#i wish i’d never made it genuinely

[shortbreadly]

my biggest regret in life is making that fucking gay panic stolas image

[moxie-girl]

[remembers that my most popular posts are all shitposts made in like 5 mins instead of the art I spend hours on] [becomes consumed by rage]

[dreamersneverlose]

For the first time in a long time, I haven’t the faintest idea what life is going to look like 1, 2, 6 months from now. How terrifyingly beautiful this will be.

[odetolovers]

it is absolutely wild the way i’ve allowed people to treat me

[lamiadrowned]

Hellooo! those jinx dating headcanons were so cute, could you maybe expand on Silco meeting Jinx's partner? 🩷

*:･ﾟ✧ silco meeting jinx’s partner

jinx x fem!reader | sfw

this made me so happy to write, the flashback we got of younger silco is heavy on my mind :,) missing him

it would definitely be a lot less intimidating than you’d expect!

in the month or so that you’ve been with jinx, silco isn’t immediately distrusting of you since she talks often about how great you are. not only that, but he can see the difference you’ve made in her life and her mental state. how cheery she becomes when she talks about you. how big her smile gets when he asks about you.

however, it seems she’s a bit embarrassed at the idea of introducing him to you. so, being the protective father that he is, he takes the initiative.

one day, as you’re heading home from work, you quickly reach for the switchblade in your back pocket when you feel a hand on your shoulder behind you.

you turn around to see there’s a woman (who is considerably taller and buffer than you) standing there, clearly surprised to see a knife pointed at her. “my name is sevika, i’m here on behalf of silco. he wants to see you in his office before the day ends. is now a good time?”

thankfully, you recognize the name. jinx had talked about going on a few missions with her. you lower your knife and shrug. “uh… yeah. yeah, now’s fine. lead the way.”

she nods and proceeds to walk with you a few streets down to the building, offering some polite conversation and reassurance– this meeting is solely for the purpose of introducing himself to you, since his daughter won’t.

she takes you to the door of silco’s office, opening it for you and wishing you good luck.

you don’t immediately see silco, but you do hear his voice. “take a seat wherever you’d like.”

once sevika shuts the door behind you, you take a deep breath and follow his instructions; sitting down at his desk and watching his own chair spin around so that he can finally come face-to-face with you.

your anxiety is through the roof and your heart won’t slow down no matter how many deep breaths you take, but you’re able to muster a polite smile.

he sees right through it, though. of course. like father, like daughter. “you seem frightened. i apologize if sevika gave you a scare.“

“oh, no– she was really nice. it’s just… i wasn’t expecting a meeting with the kingpin of the underground today.” you joke.

he laughs, which makes you a bit more comfortable. “another apology is in order, then. i know this is sudden, but jinx… she gets so bashful at the idea of introducing us. i figured, why don’t i take the big leap?”

you nod. “yeah, of course. she talks very highly of you.”

“and you, as well. she talks my ear off, a million words a minute if she finds a way to bring you up.” silco shakes his head with a growing smile. “it’s impressive, how quickly she’s become smitten with you. i’d think you were a sorceress if i didn’t know any better.”

you’re flattered by his kind words, and a bit excited by the fact that she seemingly talks about you so much. you must be doing something right.

the two of you continue on as you answer all of the questions he asks about your upbringing and your current life, and you ask questions about his. it almost begins to feel like you’re talking to an old friend, not the most feared and influential man in the lanes.

however, at one point, he suddenly becomes very serious.

“now, i feel this is an appropriate time to tell you this. you seem to be a genuinely good person, which is all too rare these days.” silco sighs. then, he clasps his hands together and casually leans forward onto the desk, resting his chin on his fists. “with that being said, if i ever come to find out that you have made my daughter suffer in any way, you will never know peace again. do i make myself clear?”

your eyes widen. you’re finally starting to see why the entire population of zaun is scared witless by him. “understood. it will never come to that, though. i can only hope you take my word for it.”

silco nods in approval of your answer. he’s very impressed by your ability to remain calm in the face of his intimidation. it only proves to him that you’re as good as you seem, and that your intentions are pure– you have nothing to hide.

after a brief silence, he opens his mouth to speak again, but he’s interrupted by the sound of his office door slamming open.

“she’s missing!”

you’re shocked to hear jinx. she sounds frantic, voice hoarse and pitchy, like she can’t contain her terror. “i checked everywhere, high and low! we need to send one of your goons to–”

she’s silenced when she sees you turn around in your chair and meet her glare. her look of horror turns into one of confusion. “what the hell is going on here? is this an intervention?”

you snort at her question, patting the chair next to you, inviting her to come sit down. her shoulders slump and she lets out a dramatic huff as she sulks over to sit beside you. her arms cross defensively. “i don’t know what you weirdos think i did, but those fireworks going off last night were not mine, and to be frank, it’s kind of offensive that you’d assume i–”

“jinx, if you don’t mind,” silco puts a hand up, imploring her to stop talking. “we’ll talk about those fireworks later.”

“what?! i just said they weren’t mine.” jinx scoffs.

“you ramble when you lie. don’t you think i’d know that by now?” silco sighs. “that’s beside the point. since you had no plans to introduce me to y/n, i decided to introduce myself.”

you hum in confirmation. “that’s all. no intervention.”

it takes jinx a long moment to process this information; it seems as if she forgot silco has eyes everywhere, and when he wants something done, it will be done.

you’re almost expecting her to be upset before a beaming smile replaces the scowl on her face. “un-fuckin’-believable! i’m searching all over zaun for you, while you’re here, kicking back with him?!” she points in his direction.

“precisely.” silco steps in for you, aware that this is one of those times where she is very happy, yet tries to pretend that she is very upset. “if it’s of any reassurance to you– to both of you– this relationship has my badge of approval.”

instantly, you feel a sense of pride in knowing that you’d made such a good impression on him. he’s a man that’s very hard to impress, as far as you’ve heard.

you reach for jinx’s hand and squeeze it. her smile is almost as big as yours now. “look at that. i aced the big interview, and i haven’t gone missing.“

[pboogerswbb]

TOO LOST IN YOU - part IX

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

Warnings: emotional rollercoaster-ish? p having her last game :( SMUT (handcuffs...)

Wordcount: 11.9K

A/N: this is it, the final chapter. i know it's incredibly long but people voted to have a longer chapter instead of two parts so this is what i did. i genuinely can not thank every person who has read/liked/reposted this series enough - i never thought so many people would show so much love for what i've written and it genuinely moves me as a writer. i'm feeling surprisingly emotional letting go of Valerie and Paige, but i know the time has come. expect an epilogue eventually, but also tune in for my next series So It Goes, which will be a much longer project! anyways genuinely, ty from the bottom of my heart, i'm grateful for each and every person reading this <3 ALSO HAPPY GAME DAY WE BETTER DUNK ON ND IDC

-

“Shot clock at four, Chen to Bueckers,”

The four seconds somehow feel closer to a minute, time slowing down around me, people moving in slow motion as I step back and get settled behind the three point line. With a flick of my wrist I let the ball fly.

“Bueckers for three…”

My eyes follow the ball as it soars in an angle, silently praying it’s the correct one I had practiced over and over as it starts coming down. I barely hear the crowd roaring, everyone on their feet. This was our last chance and it was all up to me. What could be my final game in this uniform, with these people I loved could be over in a matter of seconds. I let the gratitude wash over me. If this is it then I’m incredibly blessed, but please God, don’t let this be it.

Like instant gratification for my faith, with a swish the ball slips through the net, the buzzer going off, barely audible over the uproar of the crowd deafening me. 

“GOT IT! Bueckers brings Huskies to a two point lead, taking them to the final four!”

The waves of relief and adrenaline fill me from head to toe when my teammates run to me, all of us jumping up and down. Clammy hands are grabbing me everywhere, squeezing my shoulder and ruffling my hair. We did it, the National Championship barely out of our reach now. 

“Thank God!” I sigh in relief, looking up to the sky in a silent prayer. I’m interrupted as the girls around chant “BDB, BDB” over and over, all circling me with excitement. I feel overjoyed, all the sacrifices, challenges I’d been through were worth this moment. I feel my eyes well up as I take it all in, the girls laughing with joy all around me, the crowd cheering louder than ever before this season, and Coach walking to me and patting my shoulder. That’s all I needed to know what he meant. I made him proud. The moment is nearly perfect, only one person missing to make it complete.

-

“BABE??” Valerie’s voice comes through the phone harshly, speaking loud over a chattering crowd of people.

“Why are we yelling?” I chuckle, leaning my back against the changing room wall, cold on my sweaty back.

“BABY THAT WAS INSANE!” She says, voice excited. “I’M AT TED’S SO I CAN’T REALLY HEAR YOU.”

“I’m so happy but fuck I miss you ma-”

“Wait Paige you there?!” She speaks over me, clearly not hearing a word.

“Val can you hear me?”

“P? You there?”

The beeps stop me, the call over before it even began. Rubbing my jaw I feel a twinge in my chest. All I wanted right now was her, the lost connection only reminding me more of the distance between us. It felt uncomfortable, almost painful in my body to be so far away from her.

the connections bad ):

paige i’m so fucking proud of you, you should’ve seen me i was jumping up and down

That’s okay ma. Wish I seen it too.

Wish u were here

It was selfish of me, in fact I had been the one to tell Valerie not to come watch us play. Last time she watched me, I’d been a mess. I couldn’t risk being distracted this time.

I had found my groove quickly, the fine line between being Paige Buckets and girlfriend Paige. A lot of it was due to Valerie’s surprising patience with me while I figured all this out. Somehow it made me better on the court too - I never found myself pretending to be someone else anymore. However, having my girl in the crowd watching me, cheering me on, well that was a different subject. I couldn’t help but fear that her presence would have me messing up, getting unfocused. And now wasn’t the time to test the waters. So I had told her to stay home.

Valerie wanted anything but that, her mouth quickly turning into a frown as I told her no. But after some arguing back and forth I sweet talked her out of it. 

“I thought you’d want me there,” her words still echoed in my head. As much as it pained me to admit, Valerie was right. Now that it was all done, all I wanted was my girl on my arm.

told you

Call me when u get home?

are you tryna get rid of me? 

Never

good

 -

My voice is slurred as I lock myself in the bathroom, hands clumsily handling the lock before I coo into the phone.

“Babyyyy,”

“Paige, are you drunk?” Valerie chuckles. I nod as if the girl on the phone could see me. After we won the drinks had been flowing, me and the girls locking ourselves into one of the hotel rooms and sharing a bottle of Tito’s. It wasn’t necessarily allowed but Geno and CD were usually good sports about it, turning their backs and letting us do what kids in college did.

“Perhaps,” I giggle, which makes the girl on the phone let out a bright laugh.

“You’re really milking that Unrivaled ad huh? Never heard you say that word in my life before that,” she teases.

“Are you tryna say I’m bad with words? What about ‘work tour’ and ‘I did all I could so God could do all I can’t’? Now those went hard.”

“Paige I’ve seen the folder on your phone full of lil things like that for you to say. You’re not that slick,” Valerie laughs into the phone. She was right of course. I wasn’t that slick. I might’ve been embarrassed by the way I’d been exposed, but I simply couldn’t. Hearing her voice, even when insulting me, had me weak in the knees.

“I love you,” I sigh into the phone, leaning against the cold marble of the bathroom sink.

“I love you too, P. I meant what I said earlier. I’m so fucking proud of you,” she murmurs, voice turning softer like it always did when she was telling me something important. 

Grinning to myself a sinister thought flashes across my mind, which I would usually keep to myself but the alcohol in my blood had me feeling bold.

“Whatchu wearing ma?”

Valerie scoffs and giggles into the phone, “Bro chill!”

“C’mon Val I won big today and I miss my girl,” I whine, the foolproof method to get the brunette to bend to my will working this time too.

“Well I just got in bed,” she murmurs, I hear her shifting. “Just in that T-shirt you left and panties.”

For a moment I close my eyes imagining her, smooth legs sprawled over the blanket, bare tits so easy to expose just by pulling that damn shirt off.

“What kinda panties?” I ask, my voice now hoarse and deeper than before.

“You’re not with the girls still?” Val asks but I’m quick to answer, impatient for the detail I had asked for.

“I’m alone, I’m in the bathroom in my room. What kinda panties?”

The phone catches the heavy sigh Valerie lets out, a sign of her own arousal growing, caused by the urgency, sheer need in my voice.

“Red ones, the lace ones with the bows?”

I cuss under my breath, pressing my thighs together, eyes still closed envisioning my girl.

“Take the shirt off,” I command, Valerie shifting to pull the top off.

“It’s off,” she whispers, her voice breathy with need. 

Biting my lip I throw my head back, desperate for her. “Can you show me ma?”

She doesn’t hesitate, less than a minute later a notification comes through. Fumbling with my phone I finally get the picture open, letting out an audible groan. It’s my girl lying on her back, back arching so her breasts are perked up, the bows of the red panties decorating her body, thick thighs pressing together deliciously. I can’t help but drag my hand into my sweatpants, sliding it beneath my boxers to find some sort of relief to my need.

“Fuck ma you’re so sexy,” I groan, my fingers swirling in my folds, making my knees shake. “You should- ah shit, you should play with yourself.”

“Yeah?” she asks so innocently I nearly come.

“Yea baby, I am.”

Suddenly I hear her gasping, which only makes me groan more. The adrenaline of the game, the post win euphoria and the need for my girl had made me soaked and the picture was only spurring me on.

“Tell me how wet that pussy is,” I whimper into the phone, the sounds of Valerie’s moans turning me on even more. The marble is cold against my lower back, but I’m only paying attention to the sounds filling my ear, and the way my fingertips rub against my clit, getting me to the edge quickly.

“So- so wet P, all for you,” she whines. 

“Need you to finger yourself baby,” I order, squeezing my eyes shut, lost in the memory of how her cunt felt squeezing my fingers. “Imagine it’s me.”

The girl lets out a sharp inhale, and I know she’s working herself close to the edge.

“Fuck a dub, you’re my prize,” I murmur into the phone, trying to control my moans. My words are only encouraging the brunette, making her moan louder.

“Baby, need you here so bad,” she cries out, voice turning more high pitched. I let my head lull back as I rub my clit in sloppy circles, feeling myself teetering the edge.

“I know baby, ‘m right here,” I breathe heavily, feeling my slick cover my fingers. “I’m not gon’ last long Val.”

Hearing that does it, her moans turning desperate in that familiar way - she was there too.

“P I’m gonna come!”

“Shit baby, come on,” I let out a groan, my fingers quickly working me over the edge as I listen to Valerie’s moans on the phone. Waves of pleasure wash over me as I grip the sink behind me, watching the picture of Valerie nearly naked on my screen. I lucked out.

“Oh fuck,” Valerie breathes into the phone as she comes down, my own legs still shaking from the climax.

“I know,” I exhale and pull my hand out of my pants, allowing some space for both of us to calm down. Now that I was feeling more sober it really hit me hard, the distance. All I wanted was to wrap my arms around her and inhale the scent of her hair, feel her body molding into mine. I know Valerie feels it too when I hear her speak.

“Can’t believe you’re moving to Dallas soon,” she murmurs quietly, her voice small. 

We had been tactically avoiding the conversation, both of us having the same fears of how the discussion might go. Long-distance was hard for anyone, but I barely knew how to be in a relationship. In only the last week or so we had ran into many issues mostly caused by me and my lack of communication skills. I was learning fast and I wanted to for her - but the weight of the future felt heavy on my chest and doubt was starting to creep in. Not all the time, but in moments like this. When I saw a glimpse of what might lie ahead of us. Many nights like these.

I had grown enough to know that this wasn’t the time to have that discussion though.

“Hey maybe I’ll get drafted to the Sparks, we don’t know yet,” I joke trying to lighten the mood, as if that was any better. Well for me it was, I wouldn’t have to live in fuck ass Dallas.

“Mhm,” she mumbles and I could tell from her voice reality was hitting her quick. Last thing I wanted was for her to be upset, so I try to steer the conversation once more.

“I’m so excited for this date I got planned baby, you’re gon love it,” I murmur into the phone washing my hands. Her tone shifts, now slightly lighter.

“It better be good, I’ve been waiting,” she jokes and I let out a sigh of relief knowing the difficult conversation could be pushed off to another day.

“Oh trust, it will be.”

-

I check my hair one more time, my brunette locks in a perfect blowout when there’s a faint knock on the door.

“Valerie! It’s for you I think,” my roomie Amy shouts. I quickly grab a sweater to throw over the black long bodycon dress I was wearing in case it got cold, taking my purse to go open the door. I could feel excitement swirling in my gut for our first date. Giddy like a child on Christmas morning I tiptoe to the door, my roomies all whistling at how good the dress made my ass look - which was precisely the reason I wore it.

Opening the door I’m met with a huge bouquet of deep red roses before I even see the blonde holding them. Gasping I grab the flowers, burying my nose in and inhaling. 

“Oh my Goooood,” I gleam, letting the floral scent fill my nostrils. Finally lifting my gaze I see Paige, with a stupid wide grin on her face watching me, looking fine as hell as usual. Her blonde hair is slicked back in a bun, wearing black cargos and a white long sleeve, diamond studs decorating her ears and a chain with the number 5 hanging off her neck.

“You look so good,” I gasp and throw myself at the blonde, wrapping my arms around her dramatically and kissing her. She chuckles but kisses me back, but when she sees my outfit her face falls.

“Val, the dress…”

I immediately frown, feeling self-conscious. “Oh… you don’t like it?”

“Oh God no I love it, wanna take it off you right now,” she says her voice low and quiet so my roommates don’t overhear. “But you’re gon’ get cold baby.”

“Well you didn’t tell me what to dress for,” I say slightly annoyed, still holding the bouquet. If she wanted me to dress a certain way she could’ve let me know. I was trying to give Paige the benefit of the doubt. She wasn’t used to any of this, real dates, a real girlfriend.

“You right that’s my bad,” Paige murmurs, scratching the back of her neck. “You should change into something a lil warmer tho. I’ll put the flowers in a vase for you ma.”

“Fine.”

With a defiant groan I march into my room, leaving Paige to chat with my roommates, Amy and Layla. Neither the biggest fans of the basketball star after seeing the rollercoaster she put me through since we met. I knew they were still suspicious. I was just hoping Paige’s charms could win them over.

Taking off my dress I stand in the carefully picked lingerie staring into my wardrobe. Suddenly the door opens, the tall blonde making her way in and whistling when her eyes fall on the purple set on my body.

“NO! You’re not supposed to see yet!” I yelp and try to cover up with a pillow - unsuccessfully. Laughing, Paige closes her eyes and walks over to me bumping into my desk until her stretched out hands land on my ass.

“Well hello,” she grins, wiggling her brows, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Paige!! Stop!” I complain, though I liked the way her hands were feeling me up everywhere.

“Hey! I’m not lookin at least, gimme something,” she says and stands behind me, her hands snaking around to squeeze both my breasts, making me both flustered and giggly.

“Okay I gotta get dressed P or we’ll never get out,” I chuckle and grab a pair of white cargos and a black and white striped sweater to put on.

“Fineeeee,” the girl groans and plops herself down onto my bed, still with her eyes closed. Once the clothes are on I walk over to her, standing in between her legs as I lean down and kiss her cheek. Her blue eyes open, sparkling when she sees me.

“You look perfect,” she hums, shoving her hands in my back pockets to feel my ass up. 

“Well that dress would’ve been nicer,” I murmur, still a little annoyed. Paige, rolling her eyes, stands up and walks me out the door by my shoulders.

“Well now you won’t be bitchin’ about being cold and shit,” she says.

I had no idea what Paige had planned, but she had been acting all sly about the plans the entire week. It had grown so irritating I almost wanted to tell her off for it, but I knew it was her way of showing she was excited which in turn excited me as well.

The air is surprisingly warm despite the grey overcast caused by the cloudy sky as we head out. Paige opens the door to the passenger seat of her Jeep for me, quickly walking over to the other side and climbing in.

“Sooo where are we going?” I ask, trying to peek into the backseat for any clues. Paige proudly grins as I lean back to find only water bottles, a couple of Nike shoe boxes and a basketball in there. Way to play into every stereotype.

“You’ll see Val,” she beams, her hand coming to rest on my thigh as she accelerates on the highway. “It’s like a little over an hour away.”

Knowing it would be pointless to pry, I stare at the scenery out the car window, enjoying the comfortable silence falling over me and Paige - a rare occasion considering her mouth was always going. I felt at ease, her presence wrapping me in a duvet of calm. Of course my fears were still there when it came to the girl next to me. It would take months of building trust and communication to let go of all that had happened between us. The thing was, we didn’t have months.

In fact a month was all we barely had left before Paige would be leaving for Dallas. Obviously it wasn’t official yet, not till the draft. But we both know what the future holds. 

I look at Paige, her side profile outlined beautifully against the light shining in through the window behind her. My eyes roam the tip of her nose, the curve of her lips as she raps along to some song I wasn’t paying attention to. Paige had become a master at the art of evasion, the unmentioned topic heavy between me and her. Mentally I was beginning to prepare for the worst, to face the truth. We could barely stick by each other’s side the past few months and we lived on the same campus - how could we ever make it through long-distance while I finish my masters?

And what then? I pack my shit up and move to Dallas? Would Paige even want me there? She’s gonna meet so many new people, her whole life is about to change. Even if she wanted me now, I’m not so sure she’ll want me a year later. The idea was terrifying, causing a twist in my gut, us finally sorting our shit out just to have to give all this up. So I was just trying to soak in every moment I had with her, even if they were our last ones before the inevitable.

Eventually my eyes land on blue waves stretching across the horizon before us as Paige turns left into a parking lot. I feel excitement growing in my chest for what the girl might’ve planned, pushing away the thoughts of the inevitable end that was looming right in front of us.

“Isn’t it a lil cold for swimming?” I ask confused as Paige parks, my gaze taking in the waves crashing against the sand, only a few others walking along the coastline on the cloudy day. I had always found there to be something extremely serene about a grey day on the beach, the ocean smelled different, the humidity causing the air to grow heavy.

“We’re not going for a swim ma, I’m taking you on a picnic,” she grins and I can tell from the look on her face that she’s proud of this. Paige Bueckers, the All-American basketball star, the one I’d been begging to let me sleep over just a few months ago taking me on a picnic. My heart nearly bursts with affection and I don’t fight the urge to lean over and kiss her. The blonde smiles into the kiss, her lips fitting against mine just right.

As I reach for the door Paige slaps my hand away, the sting making me jump. 

“Ow what the hell!”

“Don’t even think about it,” she says as she gets out and walks to the other side to pull the car door open for me.

“Ma’am,” she teases but I look at her, still rubbing my hand.

“That hurt y’know,” I mumble, it didn’t really but something about Paige made me play up my theatrics.

“I did what I had to, now stand the hell up,” she commands pulling me out.

“This isn’t my idea of romantic P,” I complain as she walks me to the trunk of the car by my arm and opens it. I immediately swallow my words when I see what’s inside -  a checkered picnic blanket, pillows, a large picnic basket, a cooler and a small speaker.

“This better?” Paige asks, watching my face light up. I would never admit it but part of me thought she could never plan something like this, that it wasn’t her thing. I suppose I was wrong.

“This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” I gasp and wrap my arms around her neck and jump, knowing Paige will catch me everytime. She holds me up in the air by my waist and lets me pepper kisses all along her face.

“You deserve it ma, you deserve a whole lot,” she murmurs into my ear before placing me down, hands rubbing up and down my back. “Would give you the whole world if I could.”

Her eyes are blue and sparkling as my gaze meets hers. I wanna pause the moment, stay there with her forever.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

Paige grabs all the heavy stuff insisting I grab the blanket and the pillow instead. Picking the perfect spot we set everything down, the blonde not letting me help the tiniest bit as she sets everything up for us. I inhale the salty air, humming as the scent fills my nostrils. The high-pitched screeches of seagulls echo across the waves and I step out of my shoes, letting the sand against my bare feet ground me.

“Aight, I think we’re set,” Paige says, setting open the picnic basket. Sitting down on the blanket I watch carefully as the blonde pulls out different foods. Chocolate covered strawberries, croissants and pastries - very elegant, very not Paige.

“How did you-?”

“I googled uh, romantic foods… and the girls thought this was a good idea,” she explains sheepishly, handing me a Coke from the cooler. “Is this lame?”

There’s genuine panic on her face and for the first time I notice a slight shake in her hands. Paige Bueckers was nervous. I could barely believe it.

“Paige I love it,” I reassure her but notice the way she’s chewing the insides of her cheeks, tapping her fingers against her Coke can. Without thinking I bring my hand to hers, our eyes meeting. “I mean it. I love this baby.”

She lets out a relieved exhale, a hesitant smile growing on her face. “I did good?”. Looking for praise, as always.

I nod. “Yes, P, you did good,” I grin and lean over to peck her cheek. Smirking, the blonde lifts her arm up to flex.

“Well yeah I knew that,” she rolls her eyes and I scoff when I feel a bead of water drip down my forehead.

Paige feels it too, her blue eyes darting to the sky. The clouds are turning dark above us at a rapid rate, an ominous sign telling us the date might end before it even starts.

“Did you check the weather before P?” I ask as more rain begins to fall down.

“Fuck…” Paige sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose in frustration telling me that she in fact didn’t.

I could tell that she was starting to feel discouraged, it was all a little hard for her - the relationship stuff. For me it was enough that she was trying, but that would never be enough for Paige. Always the winner.

“Maybe it’ll pass… it’s fine!” I assure her and grab a chocolate strawberry, trying to feed it to her. But all of a sudden the soft spring rain turns into a heavy downpour, my hair and clothes getting drenched in a matter of seconds, sticking to my skin. So much for the blowout I spent an hour on this morning.

“Forreal?!” Paige groans, blonde strands darkening from the rain. 

“We should probably pack up P…” I carefully tell her, getting up and offering a hand to her. She’s looking defeated and frustrated, staring at the ground. With a heavy sigh she stands up without grabbing my hand, head nodding towards the parking lot. 

“No, lemme. You get in the car so you don’t get wet,” she murmurs hopelessly, not meeting my gaze, clenching her hand into a fist.

“No I wanna help-”

“Valerie get in the damn car.”

I knew the blonde well enough to know there was no fighting her once she got like this, so I obey, grabbing the pillows and heading towards the car. I knew exactly what Paige was thinking - that perhaps this was a sign from God of what was to come, that we just weren’t meant to be doing any of this.

Then it hits me - an idea that might save this whole day. I empty the backseat and the trunk completely, placing everything neatly on the front seats (and wondering why she needed 3 basketballs in her car but… sure). After fiddling with the seats in the back I fold them flat, opening up plenty of space in the trunk. Grateful for the hoarding Paige had been practicing, I lay down some towels I found in her car and the slightly damp pillows, setting them up for us.

“Val I told you to get in, you’re gettin’ wet,” Paige lectures as she returns, quickly stopping in her tracks when she sees what I had done.

The back of Paige’s Jeep is laid out flat, the trunk open for a view of the beach stretched out along the horizon. It wasn’t what we had planned for, but I would be damned before I give up on this day.

“C’mon,” I tell the blonde as I climb in, sitting cross-legged as I watch her wordlessly follow. Both of us are soaked, hair dripping water and the fabric of our clothes cold and sticking to our skin. Nevertheless I was hellbent on making this work somehow.

Turning to Paige I smile proudly but she’s frowning, eyes locked on her own lap. She’s upset, not with me but herself.

“I’m so fucking bad at this Val,” she murmurs disappointedly. My heart aches for her, but also for me, terrified knowing the blonde didn’t like to do things she didn’t excel at - this being one of them. Maybe it was only a matter of time when she’d decide to give up on this. On us.

“Paige-”

“And then you fix everything, when I’m supposed to be the one taking you out. Fuck, Val, you should just be with someone who can actually do this shit,” she’s rambling on and I feel that fear growing with each defeated word she says.

“Paige! We’re supposed to be a team, sometimes you drop the ball and I pick it up, so when I drop it, it’s gonna be your turn, ok?” I tell her, my voice steady but stern. She meets my gaze, frowning and shaking her head.

“Ion got time to figure this all out before…” she sighs, a deep furrow in her brows, stopping herself before the painful words slip out. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.

“Really? Now you wanna have that conversation?” I ask annoyed. She couldn’t just let me fix the date, she just had to start talking about this now. If there was something she really wasn’t the master of it was time and place.

“Well we gotta talk it out at some point ma,” Paige says, her rising voice making me feel defensive.

“Alright so during our first date then? Now?!” I say, closing the picnic basket.

Paige lets out a bitter chuckle, throwing her head back. “This ain’t counting as a date, trust.”

“Why do you have to be like that? I’m tryna fix this and you do that? I don’t need any of this,” I say pointing to the picnic basket and the cooler and the beach. “Just needed you with me and I woulda been happy!”

“Well I figured it wasn’t enough for you before!”

I know exactly what she means. How I wanted her to myself when she had a roster full of girls, how I wanted more. But the way she said it was like I was selfish, like it was too much to want her to myself. Like she didn’t want the same.

It hurts. I go quiet, averting my gaze from her. I feel my eyes burn but don’t let the tears fall. I hear the girl in front of me take a deep sigh, rubbing her jaw.

“Shit… Val, I didn’t mean it like that…” she murmurs but I don’t pay attention. 

“We should go back,” I sigh, defeated. 

“No no no, baby please, lemme try again plea-”

“I want to go home.” I say sternly and climb out of the trunk. I could feel my heart breaking, now that I got a preview of what was to come once Paige left for Dallas. We would never survive it.

We drive home in silence, but not the easy, comfortable kind. The air inside the car is heavy with things left unsaid. Once we get to Storrs Paige walks me to my dorm, leaning into the door frame as I take off my shoes, eager to get out of the freezing cold clothes, sticking to my skin uncomfortably. The red roses sit pretty in a vase on my nightstand, reminding me of the excitement of earlier and how quickly it had fizzled out. Paige was one of the most resilient people I knew when it came to her sport - however that certainly wasn’t the case in her relationships. It was as if all her fight was reserved for basketball.

“Can I come in for a bit?” She asks carefully.

“I need to get outta these clothes and shower,” I mumble to the blonde. I was hoping she’d fight me, plead to let her in.

She exhales but doesn’t, that quick to give up on us.

“Okay.”

She’s chasing my gaze, but I can’t look at her. Reality was hitting me faster than I’d like and it was so much more painful than all those times Paige went and slept with another girl. Somehow this was way worse. I don’t know how to react without starting to cry - so I don’t react at all.

“Okay.”

Paige sighs and touches my arm just for a second.

“I love you, I’ll text you.”

“Okay P, love you too.”

With that she leaves, no kiss, no hug and she’s gone. Just like she will be in a month or so.

-

“You’re so stupid Paige,” Jana rolls her eyes and the other girls nod in agreement. 

“Forreal you need like dating lessons or sumn,” Aubrey says, manspreading on the couch. I’m lying in the middle of the living room floor, retelling what happened just the other day with me and Valerie.

“I know how to date,” I scoff, throwing my arm over my face.

“No you know how to fuck, there’s a difference,” KK says and the girls hum, nodding their heads.

Azzi walks into the living room, holding a bottle of water, watching all of us gathered around me and my dramatics.

“What’s going on?” She questions, watching me sprawled out on the floor.

“Our BDB here started talking about the Dallas thing in the middle of their first date,” Kaitlyn shakes her head, making Azzi’s eyes widen.

“Girl… you’re an idiot.”

“That’s what I said,” Jana agrees. I groan and rub my face, I suppose they were right.

“That’s what I’m sayin’ tho, I dunno how to be in a relationship so how am I gonna do long-distance with anyone?” I ask, feeling dejected.

Aubrey throws a pillow on me but I was too tired to dodge, letting it land on me. “You’re so stupid.”

“What I’m saying,” Azzi hums, sitting on the edge of the couch. “You’re all about the fight and being resilient. You’ve been through so much shit and pushed through it but some relationship issues and you give up already?”

The words hit hard as I take them in. Because every single word was right. I was a fighter, a demon on the court at my best - so why wasn’t I fighting for me and Valerie.

“You love this girl right?” Aubrey asks, already knowing the answer.

“The most,” I admit, tilting my head to look at her.

“And she’s worth fighting for?”

Fuck yeah she was. More than anyone. I nod.

“Then what’s your problem?” KK asks.

Deep down I knew what my problem was. I was scared. Fucking terrified. I knew if I worked really hard for this and it all went down the drain, it would be the biggest pain of my life. But then again Valerie was worth that risk. I loved her with my whole existence, every cell in me burning for her. Letting her go without a fight might be the only thing that could hurt me more.

“You right,” I murmur and finally get up from the floor, checking the time. Her night shift had just started. “Anyone wanna go to Ted’s?”

-

The bar is crowded, the end of March bringing students from all over to spend the sunny spring day drinking and dancing. It’s pleasantly busy but not packed to the brim. Everytime I walk into Ted’s I’m brought back to the times I spent sitting in that one table by the corner, drinking Shirleys and watching over Valerie, begging that some sort of miracle would allow her to be mine. The way her mouth twisted into a smile each night I stepped in will forever be engraved in my mind. 

To my surprise, I’m met with that same, familiar smile when our eyes meet. I thought she might be upset with me, but the way her perfect face lights up behind the bar makes me feel relieved. 

She scurries to me from behind the bar counter, and hugs me tight. Without a care in the world I kiss her, not caring who might see, what the students watching might say behind our backs. Who cares, I’d be leaving in a bit anyway.

Valerie kisses me back, humming into my mouth clearly pleased about my affections. The smell of coconut enamors me, drawing me in. 

“I’m so sorry,” I murmur against her in between desperate kisses.

“Forget it, just happy you’re here,” the girl sighs, her kisses filled with a similar urgency. Neither of us wanted to fight, not knowing these were our last moments in Storrs.

Her fingertips press into the back of my head, pulling me in closer when we’re rudely interrupted.

“I love you guys but Riri I need your help,” Natalie laughs, making drinks hurriedly. 

We pull apart, her brown eyes twinkling in the low light. “Sorry Nat,” Valerie chuckles, giving me a smile that says everything’s okay. Hesitantly, we let go of each other, the girl returning to her job. 

“So I think y’all are good,” KK laughs and the girls join in. I shrug, still feeling the tingle of her kiss on my lips. “Should we go sit?”

“You guys go, I’ll be there in a bit,” I wave the girls off, taking a seat on a stool by the bar. My eyes watch closely as Valerie works, taking in every movement. Her concentrated expression, the slightly clumsy way she handles the bottles because of how small her hands are. It all makes me love her more.

I sit there for 15 minutes, 30 minutes, then an hour has passed but I barely realise, living for the stolen glances and giggles between us. I could watch her forever. For the rest of my life.

“Do you come with the drink?” I overhear some guy, definitely shorter than me and younger, asks Valerie as she’s serving him. Immediately I let out an annoyed scoff, rolling my eyes. 

“Unfortunately no,” Valerie chuckles in a friendly manner, fishing for tips. I feel myself growing more irritated, seeing the way this guy is eyeing my girl, the way his eyes lock on her chest in the white top. Now don’t get me wrong, I was the first person to understand why someone would ogle over Valerie - she always looked incredible. The way her work uniform of blue jeans and a white top hugged her body, the slight wave of her hair she hadn’t blow dried, the minimal makeup she wore to work, it all made her look so good I could’ve eaten her alive. But she was my Valerie, mine to look at, to flirt with.

“Damn, what if I tip well,” the guy continues, making me get up from my seat.

“Yoooo chill chill, not too much,” I say with slight irritation, finding to my pleasure that I am in fact taller than the guy as I walk up to him. His eyes flash with recognition as he takes me in, quickly backing down. 

“Paige uhh,” he murmurs, lifting his hands up. “My bad, she your girl?”

“She is,” I glance over to Valerie who’s smiling at me. 

“And she tips pretty well so…” Valerie adds, making the guy chuckle awkwardly. God I loved her. The guy is quick to back away.

“You can’t work here anymore,” I say jokingly, just meaning it the tiniest bit.

Valerie scoffs, giggling to herself. “Yeah then who’s gonna pay my rent?”

“I’ll pay for everything, I got that NIL deal ma.”

-

Paige has spent hours sitting on that one stool, shooing off one guy after another trying to hit on me. 

“You gotta stop working here,” she repeated to me after the fifth guy had tried to take me home. Thankfully the moment the men saw Paige and realised who she was, they were quick to back off. I didn’t wanna find out what might happen if they didn’t. 

“Alright Nat, you gonna be good for the night?” I ask as I take off my nametag, letting my long hair down, feeling it fall down my back.

“All good hun! Go home, have some fun with your lady,” she grins and I chuckle.

“Speaking of, where’s P?”

My eyes roam the crowd, the blonde not hard to find being one of the tallest women here. To my surprise she’s talking to a group of people - and not just any people. My best friends and roommates.

An unease takes over me, knowing that a conflict was likely to erupt unless my roomies could keep their mouths shut. I loved them dearly but once they disliked someone it was impossible to change their minds.

Taking hurried steps, preparing to diffuse the situation, to my surprise, everyone’s laughing, including Paige, telling some sort of story about when KK locked herself out of their dorm. 

“What’s going on here?” I chuckle awkwardly, the blonde immediately wrapping her arm tightly around my waist and placing a kiss on the top of my head.

“We were thinking Paige should come to our next dinner party!” Layla says excitedly, clapping her hands together. Monthly dinner parties had become a tradition for us, the first weekend of each month dedicated to spending time together around a shared meal. It had become important, almost sacred. Warmth spreads in my chest thinking about how it was even a consideration to include my girlfriend.

“Ohh P’s gonna be in Tampa,” I realise, leaning my head against her side. “She’s got the final games then.”

“Aww no way,” some of my friends pout to my surprise, genuinely disappointed.

“Then Val can’t come either,” Paige says ruffling my hair. I smooth over it quickly, shooting her a confused look.

“You’re coming to Tampa too, right ma?” She asks.

It’s like my heart skips a beat when her words land. The image flashes in my head, of me getting to watch my girl dominate the court and bring home the Championship if God willing. The thought alone is enough to make me emotional.

There’s a stupid grin on my face when I turn to Paige.

“Are you sure because last time-”

“I was stupid last time, I need you there with me. I’ll sort out the flights and hotels and tickets and everything.”

And hearing her say that means nothing short of everything.

-

Be You. Be Great.

Be You. Be Great.

I repeat the words to myself over and over in my head, a silent prayer. I look at my reflection, the navy Uconn jersey on my body for the very last time. It almost felt too small on me, I knew realistically it wasn’t. But something about it felt like I was close to outgrowing it. 

I remember my first game like it was yesterday, the way the jersey felt then, how it swallowed my lanky body. I was just a kid then, not that I felt like an adult now. But I did feel wiser. My arms and shoulders were bigger, filling out the jersey now. I was carrying my name and the number on my back for Uconn for the very last time.

“Paige…” Allie interrupts my thoughts, knocking on the wall next to me. Suddenly I’m back in the dressing rooms, in Tampa, and she’s watching me with a sly smile.

“Sup Allie,” I grin and wrap my arm around my freshie, wanting to savour every second of these last moments I got to spend with the girls as a Husky.

“Come with meeee,” Allie smiles, pushing me towards the cubbies where all the girls are in a half circle, smiling at me. A little creepy, I think to myself as she leaves me to stand in front of the team on my own.

“Uhhh is this when you kill me?” I ask with a grin, causing the girls to erupt into giggles.

“We got you something Paigey,” Ice smiles and walks up to me, handing me a small present, wrapped in purple paper. I feel my chest tightening as I hold the neatly wrapped box in my hands, slowly starting to unwrap it.

“HOLLUP HOLLUP!” KK suddenly interrupts and runs to me holding another present, this one much less neatly wrapped, more of a pile of wrapping paper all taped together.

“It’s from me,” the girl next to me grins.

Ice and Azzi scoff. “Hey we said no present of our own!”

“Well you don’t love P Boogers like I do,” KK sneers and turns to me. “Open mine first!”

“Okayy okay,” I laugh and unwrap the present in my hands, one layer of paper after another. 

“Damn did you use a whole roll of paper for this?” I ask, peeling away.

“Be nice or I’m taking it away,” KK scolds, giddy by my side. Finally I reach the last layers, ripping up the paper to reveal… furry purple handcuffs?

Before I can say anything KK has cuffed my left hand to her right one, painfully yanking my arm around as she cheers. 

“What the hell???” I yelp, yanking my hand back to my side and looking at the furry cuff tightened around my wrist.

“Now you won’t leave me,” KK hums and wraps her arms around me tight. Everyone bursts into laughter, including me but I hug the girl back - she was like a little sister, this whole team was my family and Storrs was my home. I was already feeling the dread of having to say goodbye itching in the back of my mind.

“Now how we gon explain this to coach?” I chuckle, squeezing KK’s shoulder and dangling our cuffed wrists in the air.

“Guess we just gotta play like this,” she shrugs. 

Rolling my eyes I shake my head and look across the room. “I’m gon miss so many layups today guys.”

Laughs erupt all around the room, except from beside me where KK is looking at me scoldingly. 

“Don’ say that,” she argues and starts unlocking the cuffs, unhappy with me.

“I get to keep these tho?” I ask with a grin, my mind already going to filthy images of all the opportunities to use these on Valerie. 

“Nasty,” KK mumbles, finally freeing my hand as I grab the cuffs and the key. Returning to the neatly wrapped gift I unwrap one corner at a time, finding a navy blue jewelry case inside. Opening it I gasp, seeing three silver rings lined up in a neat row - each one a letter. BDB.

“Are you forreal,” I chuckle excitedly, my mouth falling open as the girls cheer. I carefully take them out, placing each one on the fingers of my left hand, unable to stop the huge grin on my face.

“Guys…” I pout, already feeling tears forming but Jana is quick to stop me. 

“Not yet!”

Suddenly I feel hands wrap around my waist from behind me squeezing tight. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. I can tell just by the weight of her touch.

“Hey baby,” Valerie murmurs and places a kiss on my shoulder as I turn around. Immediately I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her in the air and letting my nose bury into her hair. I had seen her this morning before getting to the arena, but all day I’d been complaining to the girls about how I wish I could see her just for a second before we start preparing for this game. 

Valerie giggles as I spin her, finally placing her on the ground.

“Don’t tell Coach or CD,” Aubrey laughs. “We snuck her in.”

It’s then when I notice Valerie’s outfit. A miniskirt and boots which would have driven me crazy if it wasn’t for what was covering her upper body - A white Uconn jersey, with my name and number on it in big bold letters. Her face is bright, like she’s proud to carry my name on her. Proud to be mine. And it’s at that moment the tears begin to burn in my eyes.

“You’re wearing it,” I say weakly, a single tear rolling down my cheek. 

“Baby why are you crying?” Valerie asks, surprised, wrapping her arms around me tight as the girls gush looking at us.

“Remember when we first met and you wouldn’t wear my hoodie?” 

“Yes, silly that’s why I’m wearing this. I’m making it up for you,” she giggles and kisses my cheek before pulling away. Her hand however remains around my waist as we both turn to the team, comfortingly rubbing her thumb against my skin. All the anticipation, the nerves and the emotion were overwhelming me, heightening all my senses. I sniffle a little, turning to the girls, my family.

“We love you Paige,” Ice says, her voice shaky with emotion. The girls nod in agreement, many meeting my level of emotion, eyes welling up and lower lips trembling. “You’re not just a part of the team but a coach to all of us.”

“Forreal thank you, for everything,” Jana adds.

“We got it from here P,” Sarah smiles at me and it makes me feel at ease, knowing I did what I could, gave everything I had to them. That I could leave knowing I did my all, gave them all I got.

“Don’t forget us in Dallas tho,” KK says as Valerie rubs my back comfortingly, knowing without words that I needed it before my emotions took over. “Now let’s get this Natty y’all!” 

I clap as we huddle up, all my girls around me as we hug and hype each other up, Valerie so short she’s almost getting crushed by Jana and Aubrey jumping up and down next to her. Laughing through the tears I wrap my arm protectively around her and kiss the top of her head, inhaling her scent one more time. I had everything I needed right here to win.

-

Buzzer.

“And the drought has ended! The National Championship goes to Connecticut for the first time since 2016! Paige Bueckers ends her college career with 27 points in this game, leading the Huskies to a long awaited victory!”

It’s immediate, the joy, the tears. I don’t think I’m completely in my body when me and the girls all crash into poor Geno, hugging him tight, jumping up and down around him. I let my emotions take over, letting the tears run down my cheeks. I look around and see my girls doing the same, letting their tears flow. We fought for this, we earned this. I’m not saying it was late, but it was right on time.

When Coach turns to hug me, there are tears in his eyes too. I knew he wanted this for me as much as I did, but seeing the look on his face makes me feel it even more. After all the adversity, the injuries, the lessons life had thrown in my face - I was finally here. On the other side of it all, victorious. In that moment I realise all the setbacks made this moment a million times sweeter. 

“You did it kid, you deserve it,” he says into my ear and it means everything.

We finally break apart from our group hug, my mind immediately going to the one person missing. But before I can even look around, I hear her deafening cheer, her golden brown hair swaying in the air as she jumps up and down, beaming at me. 

Before my mind thinks it through I’m running to her, wrapping my arms around her and picking her up, my lips crashing into hers. The audience, the media, our coaching staff might as well not have been there. I didn’t care who saw, or filmed or whatever else. I just won the National Championship and I needed to kiss my girl.

“Paige,” she giggles against my lips but kisses me back, her careful hands wrapping around my neck. I’m sweaty and sticky and my face is wet with tears and this would be all over Tiktok tomorrow but we couldn’t care less.

“I love you,” I gasp as I pull away, shocked to find her brown eyes welling up as she smiles at me.

“I love you so much,” she sniffles as I let her on the ground, her small hands coming to wipe tears off my face. “I’m so fucking proud of you P.”

“I’m so happy you came,” I hum, more happy tears rolling down my cheeks. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

And it was the truth. All this time I had been so worried about Valerie being a distraction, something that would cause me to fail. But now I realised she was the biggest motivator, my biggest fan. Seeing her looking at me with tears in her eyes, a grin on her face and beaming brightly made me realise winning with my girl by my side felt a million times better. The best prize I could ask for. 

-

“You’re supposed to swipe it,” the girl behind me mumbles, her words a little slurred from the alcohol that had been consumed at the afterparty.

“I know how to open a damn door,” I complain, just as tipsy if not more as I fumble with the card.

“Hurry, P,” she whines, her hands wrapping around me from behind me as she kisses my upper back, making me see stars already.

“That’s really not helpin’ ma,” I groan, finally getting the door open by some miracle, crashing into the hotel room I had booked for Val just a couple blocks away from our hotel. We had stayed at the afterparty as long as we physically could, but all I could think about was having this girl bent over in front of me with those purple cuffs around her wrists ever since I finished my first drink of the night. It didn’t help that she was in the tightest, shortest purple dress for me, my hand itching to make its way beneath the hem.

The second the door closes Valerie’s pushing me against it, kissing my neck heatedly. I let out a moan, my hands flying to her ass, lifting the short hem out of the way. I feel her hot whimper against my skin when I grope her behind, feeling her up hungrily. We’re both starving for each other.

She’s trying to pin me against the door with her smaller frame, and it’s almost pathetic how easily I flip us over, taking charge. Valerie gasps as her back presses against the door and I manoeuvre my thigh in between her legs, pressing against her core harshly as I begin to kiss her, dragging against her clit.

“Fuck me,” she gasps into my mouth like a plea. I pin her against the door, both my big hands on her waist as I grind my thigh into her, already feeling a slight tremble in my legs.

“Oh baby I plan to,” I tell her, kissing along her neck leaving a trail of purple marks. “Got a lotta plans for you.”

“Need more,” the brunette whimpers, the whine in her voice driving me insane. Unable to hold back anymore myself I lift her up by her thighs with ease, throwing her onto the hotel bed. 

“Get undressed,” I command, watching the way she’s trying to catch her breath as I shed clothes till I’m in black boxers and a matching sports bra. Putting on a show for me, Valerie slowly shimmies the purple dress off her body, my jaw falling slack to find no bra underneath it. But it’s the crotchless purple panties that make me groan out loud.

“You’re such a slut,” I murmur, watching her laying on her back on the bed and spreading her legs. 

“Mmmh you like it,” she giggles. I feel my mouth watering, watching the way her pussy is glistening for me already.

“I do ma,” I murmur, dragging a finger slowly upwards from her ankle, goosebumps following my touch as I reach her knee, her thigh, her inner thigh - just ghosting where she needed me most to bring my fingers splayed on her lower stomach, watching her squirm.

“You wanna be a good girl for me?” I ask, as if I wasn’t about to fuck her no matter the answer. I can feel my boxers growing wetter as her big brown eyes look up at me, needy.

“Whatever you want baby, I’m all yours,” she tells me. The words are music to my ears.

I lick my lips as my fingertip circles her nipple, gently tucking on it to find it quickly getting hard under my touch. 

“Shit, stay right there,” I hiss and walk to my bag, pulling out the purple furry handcuffs. Valerie’s eyes widen as she sees them, but the smile on her face tells me she approves.

“You down?” I ask carefully, wanting to make sure. The brunette nods, eyes locked on the cuffs.

I tut at her, my hand grabbing her chin and forcing her gaze on me, dangling the cuffs in front of her like a prize.

“Use your words ma,” I encourage, the blush on Valerie’s face turning deeper, my dominance flustering the girl

“Yes,” she murmurs and I smirk, brushing her now messy hair off her face. She might be feisty, always putting up a fight. But once I got her wet it was so easy to get her to submit, to let me take charge. I loved it.

“There we go,” I praise, swiftly grabbing her wrists and cuffing them to the metal of bed frame, making sure I could celebrate my win without Valerie’s hands getting in the way.

She’s already squirming, too impatient to wait. Shit, so was I. I had been waiting to have my way with her all night.

I walk to the end of the bed, spreading her legs open for me, the view of her cunt in the crotchless panties driving me up the wall. Taking her ankle into my hand I begin to kiss up her leg, slowly making my way upwards to her inner thigh, leaving small marks behind.

“Mmhm, Paige…” she whines.

“Relax, you’ll get it,” I coo, pulling my own boxers down. “But you’re gonna do a lil sumn for me first.”

With that I straddle Valerie’s face, feeling my need dripping down my thighs. I needed her bad, my head spinning and cunt throbbing at this point. She lets out a moan seeing me so close and soaked for her.

“Please baby,” she whimpers, goosebumps everywhere when I feel her hot breath on my core. She’s trying to chase after me, her neck stretching to reach my core.

“Shit, you want it?”

“So bad please,” Valerie whines and I can’t take it anymore.

My hands entangle in her hair as I lower myself onto her, Valerie’s perfect mouth beginning to work immediately.

“Oh shiiiiit ma,” I groan, throwing my head back, her tongue moving back and forth in my folds just the way I liked.

“Taste so good Paige,” she moans against my clit before her plump lips wrap around it and suck, tongue circling in a way that was dizzying. I could feel the way I was getting wetter, the way I was probably making a mess all over Valerie’s face but the way she was lapping me up seemed like she was loving this as much as I was.

“So fucking good, fuck,” I moan, tightening my grip in Valerie’s perfect brown locks and beginning to guide her mouth wherever I wanted. I could feel the muscles in my thighs begin to shake, my free hand grabbing the headboard of the bed as I ride her face.

She’s squirming under me, squeezing her thighs shut to seek any friction at all which only makes me groan louder. My eyes lock onto her face underneath me, scrunched up in pleasure, mouth buried in my cunt, head moving wherever I yanked it. 

Needing more, I pull her closer, not entirely sure if she can breathe but when I feel my climax start to build, I decide I don’t care.

“Just like that Valerie,” I praise, my voice and body shaking now as I’m literally grinding myself against her face, my cunt throbbing as I feel myself near the edge. I hear her muffled moans, feel the vibrations against me as my eyes squeeze shut, my orgasm taking over.

“Oh shit, Val,” I groan, pulling her impossibly close. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it.”

The pleasure ripples over me, coming in waves as I come against Valerie’s face, watching the way her pretty hands are grabbing onto the handcuffs decorating her wrists. I grip her hair tight, pulling on it as I moan.

“Damn,” I exhale, my chest heaving as I lift myself off her. Valerie’s face is glistening with my mess, and she’s hungrily licking it off her lips, arching her back, a feeble attempt to tell me one and only thing - she needs to be touched. Bad.

“Now lemme eat this pussy,” I tell her, my mouth already watering as I crawl between her legs, wrapping my arms around her thighs to lift them on my shoulders. And I dive in. I had been waiting all night for this.

A loud moan escapes Valerie’s lips as my tongue works her, slow licks from her entrance to her clit as to clean her up. The taste of her makes me moan out loud, her arousal dripping out of her already, before I had barely touched her.

“This wet already huh? You like watching me play that bad?” I hum against her, watching the way she’s squirming, the way her hands are already tucking at the cuffs - desperate to grab my head and pull me closer.

“Paige, moreeee,” she cries, trying to buck her hips closer but unable to do anything else with the way she was stuck to the bed. Her helplessness only made me wanna drag it out for longer.

“Answer the question,” I demand my tongue now circling her entrance menacingly, licking upwards and repeating. 

She huffs and whines frustratedly. “Like watching you win.”

Good answer.

That moment I bury myself into her pussy, beginning to flick my tongue over her clit at an impossible speed, quickly overwhelming her. My eyes squeeze shut as I alternate between sloppy laps on her pussy and precise circles on her clit, Valerie’s thighs quickly closing in on my head as she writhes, handcuffs clanking against the metal of the bed frame. Her moans and the sinful sounds my mouth is making as I eat her fill the hotel room.

“Paige right there oh fuck,” she nearly screams, the alcohol in her system making her more bold. I keep eating her out, tasting every inch of her. Fuck I could never get enough, I was drunk off her pussy. I wanted to be for the rest of my fucking life.

“I gotchu mama,” I moan against her, keeping up my movements until her moans turn high pitched, and I can tell she’s on the edge. Reaching up, I take her nipples in between my fingers, fondling them as I keep moving my tongue back and forth on her clit at a rapid pace.

“Shit, shit shit,” she’s gasping now, back arching high as she releases all over my tongue, making me groan in response. My head is buried in her cunt, coaxing her through the orgasm. 

-

I’m only starting to come down from my orgasm when Paige pulls back and suddenly two of her fingers slide inside me, quickly beginning to pump in and out.

“Wait, no, too much,” I gasp, doing everything I could to pull my hands free but it was no use. Her hand doesn’t slow down despite my whining. A loud moan spills from between my lips, the stretch completely overwhelming my sensitive cunt.

“Need one more from you Val,” Paige praises, watching the way I swallow her fingers up closely. “Gonna feel so good I promise.”

I cry out, my eyes welling with tears at the overwhelming sensation, Paige’s long and nimble fingers curving inwards against my walls, making me even throb around her.

“Ohh shit that’s it,” she gasps, repeating the movement and feeling me throb once more. “Can fucking feel it.”

I squirm, legs shaking and closing around her but she pries them open with ease, the bicep in her right arm flexing as she pumps in faster, the veins of her hands popping more prominently. The wet sounds coming from inside me fill the room - almost embarrassingly loud.

“Too much,” I whine. Without stopping her movements, Paige climbs up to face me from between my legs, grabbing my jaw, licking her lips.

“You said whatever I want before,” she reminds me, her voice stern, demanding. “You’re gon take it ma.”

My eyes flutter shut, the mix of her words and her fingers moving at an overwhelming speed making my mind spin. I keep yanking on the cuffs, not because I think I’ll get free, but because I don’t know what to do with my hands, immense pleasure taking over my body.

“So fucking perfect,” Paige murmurs, still holding my face as she adds a third finger, the stretch now enough to make my whole body tremble. “Could fuck this pussy forever.”

“Open your mouth,” she coos and I do as I’m told, too weak to even think for myself. To think of anything but the way Paige’s fingers are stretching me out, the squelching sound filling my ears as she pounds them into me.

Paige leans down to kiss me, her tongue meeting mine before our lips crash. She still tastes like a mix of me and herself. I keep moaning, my mouth wide open as she kisses around it, cussing to herself.

“Shit, so fucking tight for me huh?”

“Paige,” I plead, unsure of what for when my back arches and I feel my walls tighten, squeezing Paige’s fingers. She feels it too, letting out a groan. My hips are squirming uncontrollably, forcing Paige to pin me back down against the bed, hand pressing hard on my lower stomach as she sits up to finger me even faster.

The pressure on my abdomen and the rapid speed make my eyes roll back, my climax building impossibly strong. 

“I’m so close, oh shi-” I’m gasping for air, mind spinning, Paige’s cussing the only anchor to the moment as I throb around her, teetering right on the edge.

“Tell me you’re my girl baby,” Paige moans, making me nod desperately.

“I’m your girl, shit, all yours.”

“That’s right, my good girl.”

With that, the orgasm washes over me, Paige’s fingers pressing against my walls, creating such an intense stretch I swear I’m on the verge of blacking out. My moans are deafening as my back arches uncontrollably, Paige’s other hand remaining on my stomach. The waves of pleasure are incredibly intense as I mewl and release with force, the world going black for a second.

I’m brought back by the blonde’s fingers sliding out, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness within me. I let out a whine, feeling sweat dripping down my neck, the sheets sticking to my skin. I don’t open my eyes until Paige has unlocked the handcuffs, carefully caressing over my wrists and kissing them as she pulls a blanket over me.

“Valerie?” 

“Yeah?” I whisper, still attempting to catch my breath.

“You alive mama?” Paige grins as my eyes slowly flutter open, watching her bring me water and a small present wrapped with a blue paper and white ribbon.

“Just about,” I mumble, shimmying up the bed to lean against the pillows behind me. I felt completely fucked out - and surely looked it. Paige certainly did, straight hair that had been down now tangled at the back but her usual braids still perfectly in place, mascara flaking underneath her eyes.

“What’s that?” I ask, eyeing the gift in the blonde’s hand. She chuckles and offers me a bottle of water.

“Drink a lil first, don’t want you to pass out,” she laughs as she climbs over me to the other side of the bed. Deciding she was probably right, I throw my head back and chuck some of the water, feeling the cold liquid make its way down.

“I gotchu a lil something,” Paige starts, handing the present to me. I take it with both hands, eyes flickering between it and the blonde’s bright blue eyes. 

“No, I should be the one getting you a gift, you kidding?” I ask, but Paige leans over, her big hand pressing against my cheek as she kisses me.

“I already got my gift,” she murmurs against my lips. Usually I would’ve made a comment about her corny line, but today I couldn’t. I knew exactly what she meant. “Open it.”

Slowly I unwrap the gift, finding a small box inside. I furrow my brows in confusion, but grin.

“Girl you better not be proposing because I think it’s a lil early,” I joke, making Paige let out a heartfelt laugh.

“Just open the damn box,” she complains, watching me closely. I do as I’m told, finding inside a little golden charm. Eyeing it closer, I realise it’s the number 5.

“For your bracelet,” Paige says. I let out a shaky breath, bringing the box closer to my face. It was beautiful, but what it meant was even more important to me. What it might signify.

“Paige…” I sigh contentedly, watching as the blonde with great care holds my wrist and places the charm on the gold bracelet that I wore, each day of my life. Now decorated with a golden 5. My girl’s 5.

Our eyes meet and we wrap our arms around each other, soft kisses between us as we lie down on the bed, Paige pulling me on her chest.

“I love you Valerie,” she hums, fingertips playing with the ends of my brown hair.

“I love you too,” I murmur against her lips, placing soft kisses all over them. Nuzzling my nose, the blonde pulls back. I watch her blue eyes, the way they twinkle in the dim hotel room. My national champion, my winner, my Paige. All mine.

“Come to Dallas with me,” she whispers, a surprising sureness in her voice.

Batting my eyes, I pull back. “What?”

She grabs my hand in hers and kisses my fingers, one by one. 

“Don’t make me go without you,” she pleads. “At least come and stay for the summer, and then we can think about what we do.”

“But what about school? I still got a year left P…” I remind her but she shakes her head.

“Just for the summer, and then if you hate it you can come back and I won’t even complain,” the blonde puts her hand up. “Scouts honor.”

Taking it all in, my chest fills with affection. She really wanted me with her.

“You forreal?” I ask carefully, making Paige grin.

“Val, Ion wanna even think about life without you. I can’t be away from you,” she says, pulling me into another kiss. This one is slow, meaningful. Telling me she means every word - and I trust it. I trust her.

“We’re gonna make this work no matter what,” she whispers, nose nuzzling into mine. “Gonna need you there for all my wins.”

I can already see it. Me sitting courtside, watching her win game after game, fulfilling her destiny with me by her side. Having her come home to me, waking up next to her every morning. Perhaps for the rest of my life. 

So there’s nothing else I can do but agree. There were no other options I could fathom. I would go to the ends of the earth for her. And it feels incredible to trust - to know - that she would do the same for me. It’s in the twinkle of her eye when she looks at me, the way her hands always find my waist, how her voice lowers and softens when whispering sweet nothings into my ear. I didn’t need words from her. I knew all of it without.

-

ily guys

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[hoshigray]

hmmmm, chosuki both "marking their territory" after one of reader's friends gets a little too touchy?

Love your work <3333333

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: when i tell you i was grinning once i saw this in my inbox, lol, finally chosuki yessss!! ty for loving my stuff ☆

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Choso + Yuki x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - threesome - oral (m! + f! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - anal (f! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - cowgirl 69 + missionary positions - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - biting/marking - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, honey, sweetie, sweet pea) - mild possessive behavior.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

“Damn, Y/n, you’re so lucky to have such eye-catchers fawning over you!”

“Pfffthaha, oh, stop it! You’re drunk; stop swinging around!”

There’s one thing in this world that both Yuki and Choso don’t play about — you.

You are the sweetest and most prized treasure they cherish with their very hands. Being in a poly relationship tends to be a hard thing to manage for Yuki and Choso. The two lovers were never in luck to find the right person who didn’t match their vibe or wanted to change the dynamic they were going for. But with every dark tunnel, there’s a light on the other side. And thanks to the blonde and dark brunette’s stars, you were their saving grace.

God, they adored you very much — the best partner they could ever have. The way you’d wake up to them and give them a kiss with a soft ‘good morning,’ how you make lunch for Choso before he goes on his way to work, or texting sweet messages to Yuki to check how she’s doing or telling her about this new place that opened around the area for all three of you to explore. Blind by your smile and caring charm, Yuki and Choso live in eternal bliss and happiness, knowing you have blessed them with your presence to return home to.

Their love for you is mutual and genuine, authentic in that they wish to spend their days — no, their entire lives! — being with you. They see you as their muse, as theirs. So, it’s predictable that they’d be secretly jealous when they’d have to share their piece of heaven with others.

Especially now when all three of you had been dragged by some of your old college buddies for a night out at the pub. Figuring this would be a perfect opportunity to introduce your friends to your lovers, Yuki and Choso were invited over to enjoy the merits of this occasion. What the two partners hadn’t expected was how close you all were — albeit a little too close for their liking. 

You all sat at one big round booth table, Yuki and Choso being separated from you as your friends wanted to have you by them for just the night. Again, it made the two lovers feel uneasy. Even when a girl friend grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers with hers enthusiastically, the blonde can’t fight the twitch of her ruby eyes. The friend goes on to say, “Nah, are you kidding? I think those two are the ones who are lucky to have Y/n! They’re such an angel; anyone would feel like they’ve won a million dollars if they got with someone like them.”

Then, a guy who was visibly buzzed joined the praise fest. “You’re so right! I’d do backflips every day if I scored someone so gracious and sweet as Y/n,” the drunk man brings a hand on your shoulder and nestles his cheek to your shoulder. Choso attempts to keep a neutral expression, but caramel eyes carry a tiny hostile aura. “I’d make sure to love on them every single day, kiss their feet when they walk, wash their hair when they ask—“

“Okay, lover boy,” you stop him before your drunken friend digs his foolish grave even further, and it’s hard to hide your giggles. “I think that’s enough Crowne and tequila for one night.”

You and your friends laugh and continue to strike up a conversation to catch up on material. However, you’re so engrossed in the others’ talk that you can’t sense the tension that’s brewing from the other side where your lovers sit. The two survey the scene with silent eyes, with Choso hitting his leg to stop the bounce of his knee and Yuki tapping her fingernails on the table surface.

All they could do was watch you, their treasured partner, share your attention with those who cherish you. Although, internally, they wanted you all to themselves. Yes, it was selfish; however, you can’t blame your lovers for being a little protective of you. Specifically when it seems your friends don’t appear to respect your boundaries when in their company.

So for that, it’s no surprise they instantly pull you into the bedroom once you three return home. Hungry kisses are exchanged between three pairs of lips, lustful hands stripping you of your clothes and throwing you onto the bed, where they meet in seconds to feast upon you.

“Hahhh, fuck…Hmmm, yeah, lick right there, honey.”

“Mmmm…Mmahh!! Choso, your tongue—Ohh! Feels so good…”

The brunette man is lying down on his back with you straddling above him, his face and mouth buried into our folds, licking around your labia and sucking your essence that seeps out from the pleasurable motions. His hands knead the flesh of your inner thighs as you hum along to the touch. Simultaneously, you use your tongue and mouth to give pleasure to Yuki’s slit, the blonde releasing shaky moans as she rides on Choso’s length with her ass.

The tall woman peers down to watch you orally please her. She strokes your head with a pleasant hand and sends praises. “There you go, cutie,” she bites her lip. “Lick it real good.”

Her commands egg you on to keep going, using the motion of her hips to your advantage to predict how far in you can keep lapping her chasm. Your hands crawl to her waist to massage, using the leverage to keep your lips on her at all times. And to your effort, she is sighing happily at the gratification you give her. It has her rock her hips ever harder, taking in Choso’s long shaft with hunger.

The man below you grunts at the motion, stuffing his face more into your cunt to suck harshly. And you can’t help but jolt, muffled squeals vibrating to Yuki’s core — and she relishes the feeling.

“Look at you, baby,” Choso slowly licks your chasm, sending shivers up to your shoulders. “You’re all wet and ready for us, huh? So good for us,” He kisses your clit and places lazy licks, and you fight to lose your balance.

“Hmmm, yeah, so good for us…Although—mmahh,” Yuki throws her head back at Choso’s dick scraping her insides at the right places. “Can’t say you were good when we were…Hohhh..at the pub.” You bat your eyes towards her in confusion, yet your tongue and lips remain busy. “Letting those people touch you in front of us; what were you thinking?”

You remove your mouth from Yuki to explain, her slick connected to your bottom lip. But before you could utter a word, your body jerked to the sharp instance of pain on your inner thigh. Choso had bit you, licking the place his teeth sank in before throwing in another nibble. You shriek, turning to plead to the man to be easy; however, the woman grabs your head and brings it back to where it’s supposed to be. “Don’t forget about me, sweet pea,” she chuckles at your feverish laps on her wet folds. “Give me my attention…”

She moans to your work, satisfying her with the flick of your tongue on her delicate clit. She rocks her hips even faster, prompting Choso to groan and buck his pelvis to her puckered hole, and his mouth remains glued to your chasm. He then sneaks a finger to toy around your asshole, and a sharp gasp erupts from your figure when he inserts the digit inside. 

“—Khhaaa, oooohmy fuckin’—Gaaahh!” Flicks to your clitoris tag along with the push of his finger inside your ass, playing with the texture by scraping the walls. And when his tongue goes inside your vagina, you clamp onto him with vigor. Fuck, I’m so close…! “Yukiiii, pleaseee, can I cumm?”

“Aww, why should I let you,” her sweet tone distracted you from the sneaking bit of the man’s teeth on your thigh once more. “Do you deserve to cum? After letting other people touch you like you forgot you had your lovers present?” 

“Hahhhnn, I’m sorry; I—shit… didn’t mean to upset you both…Ooof!” Choso switches his finger with his thumb, pushing it to and fro inside your tight entrance. Your eyes screw shut, “Please forgive me, you two are the only ones I love…”

“You swear on that, honey?” A glint shines in her magenta orbs. 

You nod hurriedly before placing kisses on Yuki’s thighs and trailing them back to her vagina, “Yessss, I love you both so much, no one knows how to love me as you do…” Your hips sway involuntarily — not a problem for Choso, who sticks to you no matter what. “Mmmm, only you two know my mind and body, and I wouldn’t want it any other way…”

Blonde brows eyebrows screw together; fuck, you knew what to say to make Yuki fall for you all over again. Her cunt clenching on nothing but the love your words carry. Jesus, you were too much. Without a word, she gently withdraws your body from her body so she can lift her body off of Choso. She then flips you over; now you’re the one lying on your back, with the tall woman stationed behind to snake her hands to your breasts.

Choso’s pigtails have long been drawn down for his hair to fall to his nape, and strands of his walnut-colored hair stick to his forehead. Maneuvering to his knees, he examines your anticipated expression, shaky wails coming out your puffy lips as Yuki places soft kisses on your neck. She also places bites wherever her mouth can reach, her hands busy cupping your mounds, groping the mounds, and tweezing your nipples. With how hard she was sucking your skin, you’re sure there’d be hickeys when you wake up in the morning. The man strokes his dick at the sight before him, inching closer to be between your legs.

“Choso…” The way you said his name made him feel warm; the mark across his nose exuded streaks of his blood that threatened to fall. His ears and shoulders get pinker, and your breath hitches when he slaps the tip onto your saliva-coated slit. 

“Who do you belong to, Y/n?” He says it low to your ear, and you chew on your lip when he licks your lobe. His mouth travels down, leaving harsh sucks on your neck and clavicle along with Yuki. Two mouths on your body have you whimpering like a fool, so sensitive to their touch that you could wither away. “Hmm? Who loves you most, sweetie?” He comes down to your chest that’s occupied by Yuki’s worshipping hands, popping a nipple into his mouth to suck with care.

“Hahhh, you, Choso, my darling…” you sigh into the sense of his mouth licking diligently around your bud. Your face turns in Yuki’s direction, smiling at the golden-haired woman before claiming her lips. “And Yuki, my love…”

The two of you kiss slowly yet maintain the same passion you have for each other, noses brushing against each other and tongues swirling before smacking lips together. The brunette lifts his head from your chest, straightening his posture to insert his cockhead inside your vagina. You mewl into Yuki at the insertion, and it doesn’t stop as the woman slithers a hand to your clit to swipe. You break the kiss in a huff, making the blonde snicker. 

“Mmmph…Jesus Christ,” Choso trembles at the warm snug of your cunt as it accepts his length, pushing in for every inch of him to be swallowed in. When his base meets your southern lips, you hiss at how full you feel from his size. “You know how much we love you, right, baby?”

You nod to him, Yuki placing another hickey-worth kiss on your shoulder. “Your love makes me full, honey…Ohooo…!”

“And don’t forget that…” Choso snaps his hips, drilling his long dick into you and making precise hits to the walls of your chasm. You squeak beneath him, the tip of his cock poking your sweet spots with ease, and you’re gripping the sheets to keep you steady along with Yuki’s hold on you.

The blonde woman flickers her ruby eyes to Choso and beams, “You know you’re hot as hell when you’re all possessive, right?”

“Shut up,” he shushes her with a kiss, humming to her lips that reciprocate his feelings as lovers. The only noise that fills the room is your whines and wails from the hands fondling your body and the shaft plunging so far inside you that you can’t contain the ecstatic screams originating from your inner being. Good God, this felt so fucking good; being wanted and loved by these two is a sensation incomparable to anything. You want to drown in it, be immersed within it, have your senses be robbed of their very being until you fall deep into sleep in their embrace. This feels so worth it, so satisfying…

…Until you look at yourself in the mirror and find so many fucking hickeys all over your body, all the way from your neck to the grave of your thighs. This was not a sight to see after waking up, especially on the morning your friends from last night invited you over for brunch. 

Needless to say, you pulled your lovers aside and gave them an earful. The two nodded to your words, saying “Sorry…” throughout your rant as you tried to find an adequate outfit to conceal their markings, feeling a little bad that they got carried away with you last night.

All is good, in any case. Because now they know that you are theirs both in mind and body.

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[resplendent-ragamuffin]

I have encountered issues with JVP in the past in regards to not accommodating kashrut/shabbat observance (and wheelchairs), but previously hasn’t heard about the Mikvah thing. Do you have any sources I can refer to?

Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy oh boy. The noise I made when I saw this ask.

You are probably unaware but I have literally been working on a post on this topic since February. Bless you for asking me about it and giving me a reason to share it. Genuinely. I'm delighted.

Without further ado, now that I've finally finished:

On the JVP Mikveh BS

Some of you are no doubt aware of the Jewish Voice for Peace Mikveh Guide (on JVP’s website here, and here on the Wayback Machine in case that link breaks). You may have seen the post I reblogged about it, you may have seen the post about JVP in general on @is-the-thing-actually-Jewish, or you may have heard about it elsewhere. Or maybe you’ve somehow managed to avoid all knowledge of its existence. (God I wish that were me.) Even if you know about it, even if you’ve scanned through it, you probably haven’t taken the time to read it through properly.

I have.

God help me.

I was originally looking through it to help draft the @is-the-thing-actually-Jewish post back in February, but some terrible combination of horror, indignation, and probably masochism compelled me to do a close reading, so that I could write this analysis and share it with you, dear readers. For those of you who’ve never heard of a mikvah, for those of you who’ve immersed in one, for those of you who’ve studied it intensely—I give you this, the fruit of my suffering, so you too can understand why “Mikveh: A Purification Ritual for Personal and Collective Transformation,” written by Zohar Lev Cunningham and Rebekah Erev for Jewish Voice for Peace has got so many people up in arms.

Brace yourselves. It’s going to be a long journey.

First off, a disclaimer: When I say something is “required in Jewish law” or whatnot, I’m talking about in traditional practice / Torah-observant communities; what is often called “Orthodox.” There’s a wide range of Jewish practice, and what is required in frum (observant) Judaism may not be required in Reform Judaism, etc. Don’t at me.

Second note: I myself am Modern Orthodox, and come from that perspective. I’m also very much more on the rationalist side than the mysticism side of things. I did run this past people from other communities. Still, if I’ve missed or misrepresented something, it was my error and was not meant maliciously.

Third: I am not a rabbi. I am a nerd who likes explaining things and doing deep dives. Again, I may have made errors–please let me know if you spot any, and I’d be happy to discuss them.

Now then. Before we get into the text itself, let’s give some background.

WHAT IS THIS MIKVEH THING ANYWAY?

A mikveh (or mikvah, both they and I switch between spellings; plural mikva’ot) is a Jewish ritual bath, sometimes translated as an immersion pool. Some communities or organizations that run mikva’ot will have a single all-purpose all-purpose, some have separate human- and utensil-pools, and some have separate women’s and men’s pools. The majority of the water in a mikvah has to be “living waters,” i.e. naturally collected rather than from a tap or a bucket. Some natural bodies of water can also be used, such as the ocean and some rivers (ask your local rabbi). The construction is complicated and has extremely detailed requirements. Here’s an example of a modern mikvah:

(By Wikimedia Commons (ויקיגמדון) - Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17373540)

Whoever is being dunked (the scientific term) has to be entirely immersed, and the water has to be in direct contact with all of them. That means no clothes, no makeup, no hair floating on the top of the water, no feet touching the floor, no clenched fists. You have to be completely clean as well, so no dirt is obstructing you from the water.

In essence, a person or thing is immersed in a mikvah to change their/its state from tameh (ritually “impure”) to tahor (ritually “pure”). I use quotes because “pure/impure” aren’t really good translations—they have value judgments that tameh/tahor don’t. There’s nothing wrong with being tameh, you aren’t lesser because you are tameh—it’s just a state one enters when one comes into contact with death and related concepts. (There are also different levels of both.) As a matter of fact, technically speaking even after going to a mikvah basically all people are tameh now—the tum’ah (“impurity,” sort of) that comes from contact with dead humans can only be removed by the Red Heifer offering (see Numbers 19), which we can’t do without the Temple. (Why I say “all” even if you’ve never been to a funeral is a much much longer tangent that I’ll spare you for now.) To quote one of my editors on this, mikvah is “about the natural oscillation between states of ritual purity and impurity. Men go to mikveh after having seminal emissions. Menstruating women go to mikveh on a monthly basis (emphasis added).” It’s just states of life.

In the days of the Temple, one had to be tahor to enter it (the Temple). Archaeologists have found a ton of ancient mikva’ot in Jerusalem that were presumably used by people visiting the Temple, which personally I think is extremely cool.

Nowadays, there are three main traditionally required uses for a mikvah. First, and most importantly, observant married women will go about once a month as part of their niddah (menstrual) cycle, part of practice known as Taharat HaMishpacha, or “Family ‘Purity,’” which at its root is a way to sanctify the relationship between spouses. Until she immerses, a wife and husband cannot resume relations. And not just sex—in some communities, they can’t sleep in the same bed or even have any physical contact at all.

The second use is for conversion—immersion is a central part of the conversion ceremony. One enters the water a gentile, and emerges a Jew.

The third usage is a bit different as it’s not for people. Tableware—plates, cups, etc.—made of certain materials have to be immersed before they can be used. This isn’t what the Guide is about, so I’m not going to go into that as much, but felt remiss if I didn’t mention it was a thing. If you want to know more, Chabad has an article on it here.

Aside from uses required by Jewish law, there is a strong tradition in some communities for men to go to the mikveh just before Yom Kippur, or sometimes every week before the Sabbath, to enter the holiday in as “pure” a state as possible these days. (The things they’re “purifying” from still made them tameh, it just matters less without the Temple.) There is also a strong custom to immerse before one’s wedding. Less traditional communities have also started using mikvah for other transitional moments, such as significant birthdays or remission from cancer. There has recently been an “open mikvah” movement, which “is committed to making mikveh accessible to Jews of all denominations, ages, genders, sexual orientations, and abilities (Rising Tide Network old website, “Why Open Mikvah”).”

To quote others:

No other religious establishment, structure or rite can affect the Jew in this way and, indeed, on such an essential level. —Rebbetzen Rivkah Slonim, Total Immersion, as quoted on Chabad.org

The mikveh is one of the most important parts of a Jewish community. —Kylie Ora Lobell, “What Is a Mikveh?” on Aish.com

How important? According to Rav Moshe Feinstein, one of the great American rabbis of the 20th century, one should build a mikveh before building a synagogue in a town that has neither, and even in a town where there is a mikveh but it’s an inconvenient distance away from the community (Igros Moshe: Choshen Mishpat Chelek 1 Siman 42).

A mikveh is more important than a synagogue.

I’d say that’s pretty important.

Tl;dr: A mikveh is the conduit through which a convert becomes a part of the Jewish people. It is traditionally used to sanctify the relationship between spouses. It was required for people to go to the Temple, back when we still had it. It is extremely central to Jewish practice.

So. What does JVP have to say about it?

THE JVP MIKVEH GUIDE

The document in question is titled “Mikveh: A Purification Ritual for Personal and Collective Transformation,” by Zohar Lev Cunningham and Rebekah Erev. I am largely going to quote directly from the text and then analyze and explain it.

Now let me be clear. I’m not trying to say the authors aren’t Jewish. I’m not saying they’re bad people, or that you should attack them. I am not intending any of this as an ad hominem attack. But given the contents of this document, I do think it is fair to call this appropriative, even if it is of their own culture—in the same way someone can have internalized racism, or twist feminism into being a TERF, I would argue that this is twisting Judaism into paganism. In fact, while I use “appropriation” throughout this document, an extremely useful term that’s been coined recently is “cultural expropriation”--essentially, appropriative actions done by rogue members of the community in question. One example of this would be the Kabbalah Centre in Los Angeles, which is the source of a lot of the Madonna-style “pop Kabbalah.” It was founded by an Orthodox Jewish couple, but it and its followers are widely criticized by most Jewish communities. In much the same way, the Guide is expropriation. 

We start off with a note from the authors.

Hello, Welcome to the Simple Mikveh Guide. This work comes out of many years of reclaiming and re-visioning mikveh. The intention of this guide is to acknowledge and give some context to what mikveh is, provide resources related to mainstream understanding of mikveh and also provide alternative mikveh ideas. Blessings for enjoyment of this wonderful, simple Jewish ritual! Zohar Lev Cunningham & Rebekah Erev

This is fairly normal, though “alternative mikveh ideas” is a bit odd to say. I also find “blessings for enjoyment” to be odd phrasing, somewhat reminiscent of the Wiccan “Blessed Be,” but it could be a typo.

The first main section is titled “Intro to Mikveh,” and begins as follows:

Mikveh is an ancient Jewish ritual practice of water immersion, traditionally used for cleansing, purification, and transformation. It's been conventionally used for conversion to Judaism, for brides, and for niddah, the practice of cleansing after menstruation.

This is relatively accurate, and credit where credit is due avoids making niddah out to be patriarchal BS. I do object slightly to “purify” as a translation without further explanation, as I went into above, and “cleansing” for similar reasons—it implies “dirtiness,’ which isn’t really what tum’ah is about. Also, though this is pretty minor, a bride going to the mikveh before her wedding is actually a part of the laws of niddah. I’d also note that they entirely leave out that it was important for going to the Temple in ancient times, though given this is published by JVP I’m not terribly surprised.

For Jews, water signifies the transformative moment from slavery in Egypt, through the parted Red Sea, and into freedom.

On the one hand, I suppose it’s not unreasonable to connect the Red Sea and mikveh, though I think I’d be more likely to hear it the other way around (i.e. “going through the sea was like the people immersing in a mikveh and being ‘cleansed,’ so to speak”). Though they were, rather importantly, not actually immersed in the water. However I don’t think I’d say water as a whole signifies the Splitting of the Sea. In fact, water imagery is more often used to signify the Torah, see for instance Bava Kamma 82a.

There is also a mystical connection to mikveh as a metaphor for the womb of the divine.

A mikveh being like a womb is also not uncommon. It’s found in the Reishis Chochmah (Shia’ar HaAhavah 11,58) and the writing of Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan (The Aryeh Kaplan Anthology, vol 2., p. 382; both as quoted in 50 Mikvahs That Shaped History, by Rabbi Ephraim Meth), see also “The Mikveh’s Significance in Traditional Conversion” by Rabbi Maurice Lamm on myjewishlearning. Filled with water, you float in it, you emerge a new being (at least for conversion); it’s not an absurd comparison to draw. I’m not sure I’ve found anything for the Womb of the Divine specifically, though. (Also, Divine should definitely be capitalized.)

Entering a mikveh is a transformative and healing experience and we have long wondered why it is not available to more people, including the significant trans and queer populations in Jewish communities.

So. I am NOT going to say there’s no problem with homophobia and/or transphobia in Jewish communities. It’s definitely a community issue, and many communities are grappling with it in various ways as we speak. And I’m certainly not going to say the authors didn’t have the experience of not having a mikveh available to them—I don’t know their lives, I’m not going to police their experiences.

However, while Orthodox mikvahs are often still restricted to married women (who by virtue of the community will generally be cis and married to men) and potentially adult men (given the resources and customs, as mentioned above), there are plenty of more liberal mikva’ot these days. Some even explicitly offer rituals for queer events! The list of reasons to go to the mikvah linked up above, for instance, includes:

(Mayyim Hayyim, “Immersion Ceremonies”)

Again, that’s not to say there aren’t issues of queerphobia in the Jewish community, but if you are queer and want to go to the mikvah, there are options out there. If you’re looking, I’ve included some links at the end.

When we make ritual, we are working with the divine forces of presence and intention. The magic of mikveh comes in making contact with water. Contact with water marks a threshold and functions as a portal to bring closer our ritual intention/the world to come.

This is…a weird way to put things. I would say this is the start of the red flags. “When we make ritual,” first of all, is, to quote @the-library-alcove (who helped edit this), “a turn of phrase that is not typically associated with any branch of Jewish practice; we have a lot--a LOT--of rituals, and while it's certainly not completely outside of the realm of Jewish vernacular, the tone here, especially in light of the later sections, starts veering towards the vernacular of neo-paganism.” One might say “make kiddush” (the blessing over wine on Shabbos and holidays) or “make motzi” (the blessing over bread), but not generally “make ritual.”

The next section is titled “Who Gets to Do Mikveh?” Their answer:

Everyone! Mikveh practice is available to all of us as a healing tool at any time.

The healing tool part isn’t the original purpose of mikveh, but there are some who have used it as a part of emotional recovery from something traumatic, by marking a new state of being free from whatever caused it, see for instance Mayyim Hayyim’s list linked above.

The “everyone” bit is a little more complicated. To explain why, we’re going to skip ahead a little. (Some of these quotes will also be analyzed in full later.)

We want to make mikveh practice available as a tool to all Jews and non-Jews who want to heal wounds caused by white supremacy and colonialism. [..] To us, a queer mikveh welcomes anyone, regardless of spiritual background or not. […] Queer mikveh is accessible physically and spiritually to any and all people who are curious about it. You don't have to be a practicing Jew to enter queer mikveh. You don't have to be Jewish. (pg. 2, emphasis added)

Now, I am told there are mikva’ot that allow non-Jews to immerse. I have yet to find them, so I don’t know what rituals they allow non-Jews to do. I also haven’t been able to find any resources on non-Jews being allowed to immerse. I have found quite a few that explicitly prohibit it. If there are any sources you know of, please send them to me! I’d love to see them! But so far everything I have come across has said that mikvah immersion is a closed practice that only Jews can participate in. (Technically, to quote the lovely @etz-ashashiot, any non-Jew can do mikvah…once. And they won’t be non-Jews when they emerge. There is also one very extreme edge-case, which is absolutely not mainstream knowledge or practice, and basically isn’t actually done. You can message me if you’re curious, but it’s really not relevant to this–and even in that case, it is preferable to use a natural mikvah rather than a man-made one.)

If there are any legitimate sources that allow non-Jews to do a mikvah ritual, I would assume said non-Jews would be required to be respectful about it. Unfortunately, this is how the paragraph we began with continues:

Who Gets to Do Mikveh? Everyone! Mikveh practice is available to all of us as a healing tool at any time. You don't need any credentials. Your own wisdom is all the power you need to be a Jewish ritual leader. (emphasis added)

This is where we really go off the rails. First of all, you need more than “wisdom” to lead a Jewish ritual. You need to actually know what you’re doing. You can’t just say “oh you know what I feel like the right thing to do for morning prayers is to pray to the sun, because God created the sun so the sun is worth worshiping, and this is a Jewish ritual I’m doing.” That’s just idolatry. Like straight up I stole that from a midrash (oral tradition) about how humanity went from speaking with God in the Garden of Eden to worshiping idols in the time of Noah (given here by Maimonides; note that it continues for a few paragraphs after the one this link sends you to).

Second of all, this is particularly bad given this guide is explicitly to Jews and non-Jews. As @daughter-of-stories put it when she was going over an earlier draft of this analysis, “they are saying that non-Jews can just declare themselves Jewish ritual leaders based on nothing but their own ‘wisdom.’”

I hope I don’t need to explain why that’s extremely bad and gross?

While we’re on the topic of non-Jews using a mikvah, let’s take a moment to address an accusation commonly mentioned alongside the mikvah guide: that JVP also encourages (or encouraged) self-conversion.

I have been unable to find a separate document where they explicitly said so, or an older version of this document that does. This leads me to believe that either a) the accusation came from a misreading of this document, or b) there was a previous document that contained it which has since been deleted but was not archived in the Wayback Machine. EITHER is possible.

Even in the case that there was no such document, however, I would point out that such a suggestion can be read–intentionally or not–as implicit in this document. This is a guide for mikvah use by both Jews and non-Jews, and includes an idea that non-Jews can perform Jewish rituals on their own without any guidance or even background knowledge, as quoted above. Why would a non-Jew, coming into Jewish practice with very little knowledge, go looking to perform a mikvah ritual?

I would wager that the most well-known purpose of immersing in a mikvah is for the purpose of conversion.

Nowhere in this guide is there any explicit statement that you can do a self-conversion, but it also doesn’t say anywhere that you can’t, or that doing so is an exception to “you don’t need any credentials” or “your own wisdom is all the power you need to be a Jewish ritual leader.” It may not be their intention, but the phrasing clearly leaves it as an option.

Even if this were from a source that one otherwise loved, this would be upsetting and disappointing. The amount of exposure this document is getting may be at least in part because it comes from JVP, but the distress and dismay would be there regardless. If there is further vitriol, it’s only because JVP is often considered a legitimate source by outsiders, if no one else–in other words, by the very people least likely to have the background to know that this document isn’t trustworthy. It’s like the difference between your cousin telling you “the Aztecs were abducted by aliens” versus a mainstream news program like Fox reporting it. Both are frustrating and wrong, but one has significantly more potential harm than the other, and therefore is more likely to get widespread criticism (even if you complain about your cousin online).

On the other hand, as one of my editors pointed out in a moment of dark humor, they do say you don’t have to be Jewish to lead a Jewish ritual, so perhaps that mitigates this issue slightly by taking away a motivation to convert in the first place.

Returning to our document:

We do mikvahs in lakes, rivers, bathtubs, showers, outside in the rain, from teacups, and in our imaginations.

At this point the rails are but a distant memory.

In case you’ve forgotten what I said about this at the beginning of this post (and honestly I wouldn’t blame you, we’re on pg. 9 in my draft of this), there are extremely strict rules about what qualifies as a mikvah. Maimonides’s Mishnah Torah, just about the most comprehensive codex of Jewish law, has eleven chapters on the topic of the mikvah (though that includes immersion in it as well as construction of it). I’m not going to make you read through it, but let’s go through the list in this sentence:

Lakes and rivers: you might be able to use a river or lake as a mikvah, but you need to check with your local rabbinical authority, because not all of them qualify. In general, the waters must gather together naturally, from an underground spring or rainwater. In the latter case, the waters must be stationary rather than flowing. A river that dries up in a drought can’t be used, for instance. (The ocean counts as a spring, for this purpose.)

Bathtubs and showers: No. A man-made mikveh must be built into the ground or as an essential part of a building, unlike most bathtubs, and contain of a minimum of 200 gallons of rainwater, gathered and siphoned in a very particular way so as not to let it legally become “groundwater.” Also, it needs to be something you can immerse in, which a shower is not.

Outside in the rain: No? How would you even do that?? What??

Teacups: Even if you were Thumblina or K’tonton (Jewish Tom Thumb), and could actually immerse your entire body in a teacup, it wouldn’t be a kosher mikvah as a mivkah can’t be portable.

In your imagination: Obviously not, what the heck are you even talking about

We will (unfortunately) be coming back to the teacup thing, but for now suffice it to say most of these are extremely Not A Thing.

Mikveh has been continually practiced since ancient Judaism. It is an offering of unbroken Jewish lineage that we have claimed/reclaimed as our own.

I find the use of “claimed/reclaimed” fascinating here, given this guide is explicitly for non-Jews—who, whether or not they are permitted to use a mikvah, certainly shouldn’t be claiming it as their own—as well as Jews. I find it particularly interesting given the lack of clarity of how much of JVP’s membership is actually Jewish and JVP’s history of encouraging non-Jewish members to post “as Jews.” Kind of telling on yourselves a bit, there.

(Once again, I’m not commenting on the authors themselves, but the organization they represent here and the audience they are speaking to/for.)

We want to make mikveh practice available as a tool to all Jews and non-Jews who want to heal wounds caused by white supremacy and colonialism. We want to make mikveh practice available for healing our bodies, spirits, and the earth.

Setting aside the “Jews and non-Jews” thing, since I talked about that earlier and this is already extremely long, I do want to highlight the end of the paragraph. While there are some modern uses of the mikvah to (sort of) heal the spirit, I haven’t heard of anyone using a mikvah to heal the body—as a general rule Jews don’t tend to do faith healing, though of course some sects are the exception. Healing the earth, however, is absolutely not a use of a mikvah. Mikvah rituals, as we’ve now mentioned several times, are about tahara of a person or an object, and require immersion. You can’t immerse the earth in a mikvah. The earth contains mikva’ot. Healing the earth with a mikvah is a very strange worship (IYKYK).

We acknowledge that not all beings have consistent access to water, including Palestinians.

This is a tragedy, no question. I don't mean to minimize that. However, it is also unrelated to the matter at hand. The Guide also doesn’t give any recommendations on how we can help improve water access, so this lip service is all you get.

A lack of water does not make mikveh practice inaccessible.

Yes, in fact, it does. Without a kosher mikvah of one variety or another one cannot do anything that requires a mikvah. That’s why building a kosher one is so important. I haven’t gone looking for it, but while I’m sure there’s lots (and lots and lots and lots) of Rabbinic responsa out there of what to do in drought situations, you definitely do need water in all but the most extreme cases. If you do not have water, AYLR (Ask Your Local Rabbi)--don’t do whatever this is.

The spirit of water can be present with us if we choose to call for water, so even when water is not physically available to us we can engage in mikveh practice.

This is just straight up avodah zarah (“strange worship,” i.e. idolatry) as far as I can tell. The “spirit of the water”? What? We’re not Babylonians worshiping Tiamat. What source is there for this? Is there a source??

Like all material resources, the ways water is or is not available to us is shaped by our geographic and social locations. The ways we relate to water, what we decide is clean, treyf (dirty), drinkable, bathable, how much we use, how much we save, varies depending on our experiences. We invite you to decide what is clean and holy for your own body and spiritual practice.

This is going to require some breaking down.

To start with, let’s define “treyf.” To quote myjewishlearning, “Treyf (sometimes spelled treif or treyfe) is a Yiddish word used for something that is not kosher [lit. "fit"]. The word treyf is derived from the Hebrew word treifah, which appears several times in the Bible and means 'flesh torn by beasts.' The Torah prohibits eating flesh torn by beasts, and so the word treifah came to stand in for all forbidden foods.”

You may note the lack of the word “dirty” in this definition, or any other value judgments. Myjewishlearning continues, “over time, the words kosher and treyf have been used colloquially beyond the world of food to describe anything that Jews deem fit or unfit.” While this does have something of a value judgment, it’s still not “dirty.” I can’t say why the authors chose to translate the word this way, but…I don’t like it.

Now, when it comes to what is kosher or treyf, food and drink are most certainly not based on “our experiences.” There are entire books on the rules of kashrut; it generally takes years of study to understand all the minutiae. Even as someone who was raised in a kosher household, when I worked as a mashgicha (kosher certification inspector) I needed special training. What is considered kadosh (“sacred” or “holy,”  though again that’s not a perfect translation) or tahor is also determined by very strict rules. We don’t just decide things based on “vibes.” That’s not how anything in Jewish practice works.

Water, in fact, is always kosher to drink unless it has bugs or something else treyf in it. And mikvehs aren’t even always what I’d consider “drinkable;” I always wash utensils I’ve brought to the mikvah before I use them.

We come to our next heading: What is Queer Mikveh?

What is Queer Mikveh? To us, a queer mikveh welcomes anyone, regardless of spiritual background or not.

As I’ve said above, I have yet to find a single source (seriously if you have one please send it to me) that says non-Jews can go to a mikvah. As one of my editors for this put it, “to spin appropriation of Jewish closed practices as ‘queer’ is not only icky but deeply disrespectful to actual queer Jews.”

Also, and this is not remotely the point, but “regardless of spiritual background or not” is almost incoherently poor writing.

As Jews in diaspora we want to share and use our ritual practices for healing the land and waters we are visitors on for the liberation of all beings.

I have tried to be semi-professional about this analysis, but. “Jews in the diaspora,” you say. Tell me, JVP, where are we in the diaspora from? Hm? Where are we in diaspora from? Which land do we come from? Which land are we indigenous to, JVP? Do tell.

Returning to the point, I would repeat that mikvah has nothing to do with “healing the land and waters.” It’s ritual purification of whatever is immersed in it. You want to heal the land and waters? Go to your local environmental group, and/or whoever maintains your local land and waters. Pick up trash. Start recycling. Weed invasive species. Call your government and tell them to support green energy. You want liberation for all beings? Fight bigotry—including antisemitism. Judaism believes in action—go act. Appropriating rituals from a closed religion doesn’t liberate anyone.

We have come up with this working definition and welcome feedback!

Oh good, maybe I won’t be yelled at for posting this (she said dubiously).

Queer mikveh is a ritual of Jews in diaspora. We believe the way we work for freedom for all beings is by using the gifts of our ancestors for the greatest good. We bring our rituals as gifts.

I have nothing in particular new to say about this, except that I find the idea of “bringing our rituals as gifts” for anyone to use deeply uncomfortable, given Judaism is a closed religion that strongly discourages non-Jews from joining us, and that has had literal millennia of people appropriating from us.

It acknowledges that our path is to live on lands that are not historically our peoples [sic] and we honor the Indigenous ancestors of the land we live on, doing mikveh as an anti-colonialist ritual for collective and personal liberation.

Again I would love so much for JVP to tell us which lands would historically be our people’s. What land do Jews come from, JVP? What land is it we do have a historical connection to? What land do our Indigenous ancestors come from??

And why does it have to be our path to live on lands other than that one?

Secondly, to quote the lovely @daughter-of-stories again when she was editing this, “Mikveh as anti-colonialism, aside from not being what Mikveh is, kinda implies that you can cleanse the land of the sins of colonialism. So (a) that’s just a weird bastardization of baptism since, mikveh isn’t about cleansing from sin, and (b) so does that mean the colonialism is erased? Now we don’t have to actually deal with how it affects actual indigenous people?”

I’m sure that (b) isn’t their intent, but I will say that once again they don’t give any material suggestions for how to actually liberate any collectives or persons from colonialism in this document, including any links to other pages on their own website*, which surely would have been easy enough. It comes across as very performative.

*I disagree strongly with most of their methods, but at least they are suggesting something.

Queer mikveh is a physical or spiritual space that uses the technologies of water and the Jewish practice of mikveh to mark transitions. Transition to be interpreted by individuals and individual ritual.

I have no idea what the “technologies of water” are. Also usage of a mikvah to mark transitions beyond ritual states is a fairly new innovation, as mentioned above.

Queer mikveh in it's [sic] essence honors the story of the water. The historical stories of the water we immerse in, the stories of our own bodies as water and the future story we vision [sic].

This just sounds like a pagan spinoff of baptism to me, if I’m being honest. Which would be non-Jewish in several ways.

Queer mikveh is accessible physically and spiritually to any and all people who are curious about it. You don't have to be a practicing Jew to enter queer mikveh. You don't have to be Jewish.

First off, once again whether or not non-Jews can use mikvah seems at best extremely iffy. Secondly, accessibility in mikva’ot is, as one of my editors put it, “a continual discussion.” We have records of discussions regarding access for those with physical disabilities going back at least to the 15th century (Shut Mahari Bruna, 106; as quoted in 50 Mikvahs That Shaped History by Rabbi Ephraim Meth), and in the modern era there are mikva’ot that have lifts or other accessibility aids. That said, many mikva’ot, especially older ones, are still not accessible–and many mikva’ot don’t have the money to retrofit or renovate. Mikvah.org’s directory listings (linked at the end of this) notes whether various mikva’ot are accessible, if you are looking for one in your area.  If you want to help make mikva’ot more accessible to the disabled, consider donating to an existing mikvah to help them pay for renovations or otherwise (respectfully) getting involved in the community. If you want to help make mikva’ot more accessible for non-Orthodox Jews, try donating to an open mikvah (see link to a map of Rising Tide members at the end of this essay) or other non-Orthodox mikvah.

Queer mikveh is an earth and water honoring ritual.

Not even a little. We do have (or had) rituals that honor the earth or water, at least to an extent–the Simchat Beit HaSho’evah (explanations here and here) was a celebration surrounding water; most of our holidays are harvest festivals to some extent or another; there are a large number of agricultural mitzvahs (though most can only be done in Israel, which I suppose wouldn’t work for JVP). (Note: mitzvahs are commandments and/or good deeds.) Even those, though, aren’t about the water or earth on their own, per se, but rather about honoring them as God’s gift to us. This description of mikvah sounds more Pagan or Wiccan–which is fine, but isn’t Jewish.

Queer mikveh exists whenever a queer person or queers gather to do mikveh. Every person is their own spiritual authority and has the power to create their own ritual for individual or collective healing.

Absolutely, anyone can create their own rituals for anything they want. But it probably won’t be a mikvah ritual, and it probably won’t be Jewish.

Do you know what it’s called when you make up your own ritual and claim that it’s actually a completely valid part of an established closed practice of which you aren’t part? (Remember—this document is aimed just as much at non-Jews as at Jews.)

It’s called appropriation.

With the next section, “Some Ideas for Mikveh Preparation,” we begin page three.

(Yes, we’re only on page three of seven. I’m so sorry.)

The most important part of mikveh preparation is setting an intention.

This isn’t entirely wrong, as you do have to have in mind the intention of fulfilling a mitzvah when you perform one.

Because mikveh is a ritual most used to mark transitions, you can frame your intention in that way.

To quote myself above, “usage of a mikvah to mark transitions beyond ritual states is a fairly new innovation.” I’d hardly say it is mostly used for marking transitions.

You can do journaling or talk with friends to connect with the Jewish month, Jewish holiday, Shabbat, the moon phase, and elements of the season that would support your intention.

If this were a guide for only Jews, or there was some sort of note saying this section was only for Jews, I would have less of a problem. But given neither is true, they are encouraging non-Jews to use the Jewish calendar for what is, from the rest of the descriptions in the Guide, a magical earth healing ritual.

This is 100% straight up appropriation.

The Jewish calendar is Jewish. Marking the new moon and creating a calendar was the first commandment given to us as a people, upon the exodus from Egypt. Nearly all our holidays are (aside from the harvest component, which is based on the Israeli agricultural seasons and required harvest offerings) based on specific parts of Jewish history. Passover celebrates the Exodus and our becoming a nation. Sukkot celebrates the Clouds of Glory that protected us in the desert. Shavuot celebrates being given the Torah.

According to some opinions, non-Jews literally aren’t allowed to keep Shabbat.

If you are a non-Jew and you are basing the collective earth healing ritual you have created under your own spiritual authority around Jewish holidays and calling it “mikvah,” you are appropriating Judaism.

Full stop.

This isn’t even taking into account the generally Pagan/witchy feel of the paragraph, with “moon phases” and “elements of the season.” Again, if you want to be a Pagan be a Pagan, but don’t call it Jewish.

Things only go further downhill with their next suggestion for preparation before you go to the mikvah.

Divination: A lot can be said about divination practices and Judaism.

There certainly is a lot to be said. First and foremost, there’s the fact that divination is forbidden in Judaism.

(Screenshot of Leviticus 19:26 from sefaria.org)

One method of divination they suggest is Tarot, which is a European method of cartomancy that seems to have begun somewhere in the 19th century, though the cards start showing up around the 15th. While early occultists tried to tie it to various older forms of mysticism, including Kabbalah, this was, to put it lightly, complete nonsense. (Disclaimer: this information comes from wikipedia; I’ve already spent so much time researching the mikvah stuff that I do not have the energy or interest to do a deep dive into the origin of Tarot. It isn’t Jewish, the rest is honestly just details.)

I have nothing against Tarot. I think it’s neat! The cards are often lovely! I have a couple of decks myself, and I use them for fun and card games. But divination via tarot is not Jewish. If I do any spreads, I make it very clear to anyone I’m doing it with that it is for fun and/or as a self-reflection tool, not as magic. Because that is extremely not allowed in Judaism.

The authors suggest a few decks to use, one of which is by one of the authors themselves. Another is “The Kabbalah Deck,” which—holy appropriation, Batman!

In case anyone is unaware, Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism) is an extremely closed Jewish practice, even within Judaism. Traditionally it shouldn’t be studied by anyone who hasn’t already studied every other Jewish text (of which there are, I remind you, a lot), because it’s so easy to misinterpret. I mentioned this above briefly when explaining cultural expropriation. Pop Kabbalah (what Madonna does, what you see when they talk about “Ancient Kabbalistic Texts” on shows like Supernatural, the nonsense occultists and New-Agers like to say is “ancient Kabbalistic” whatever, it’s a wide span of appropriative BS) is gross, combining Kabbalah with Tarot is extremely gross. I’m not 100% sure, as the link in the pdf doesn’t work, but I believe they are referring to this deck by Edward Hoffman. For those of you who don’t want to click through, the Amazon description includes this:

(Screenshot from Amazon)

Returning to our text:

Another practice that's been used in Judaism for centuries is bibliomancy. You can use a book you find meaningful (or the Torah) and ask a question. Then, close your eyes, open the book to a page and place your finger down. Interpret the word or sentence you pointed at to help guide you to answer your question.

Bibliomancy with a chumash (Pentateuch) or tanach (Bible) in Jewish magic is kind of a thing, but the tradition of Jewish magic as a whole is very complicated and could be its own entirely different post. This one is already long enough. This usage of bibliomancy is clearly just appropriative new-age BS, though, especially given you can use “[any] book you find meaningful.”

Also, if you aren’t Jewish, please don’t use the Torah for ritual purposes unless you are doing it under very specific circumstances under the laws for B’nei Noach (“Children of Noah,” also called Righteous Gentiles; non-Jews who follow the 7 Noachide Laws).

Sit with your general intention or if you aren't sure, pose a question to the divination tool you are using. "What should be my intention for this mikveh?" "What needs transforming in my life?" "How can I transform my relationship with my body?"

As I hope I’ve made clear, there are very specific times when one uses a mikvah, even with more modern Open Mikvah rituals. You always know what your intention is well before going—to make yourself tahor, or mark a specific event. I’m not here to police how someone prepares mentally before they immerse—meditation is fine, even encouraged. But magic? Like this? That’s not a thing. And given the fact that divination specifically is not only discouraged but forbidden, this section in particular upset a lot of Jews who read it.

Those of us already upset by everything we’ve already covered were not comforted by how the Guide continues.

How to Prepare Physically For Mikveh: Some people like to think about entering the mikveh in the way their body was when they were born. By this we mean naked, without jewelry, with clean fingernails and brushed hair. This framing can be meaningful for many people.

We went into this at the beginning of this essay (about 6500 words ago), but this is in fact how Jewish law mandates one is required to immerse. This is certainly the case in most communities, whether you are immersing due to an obligation (as a married woman or a bride about to be married) or due to custom (as men in post-Temple practice) or due to non-traditional immersion (as someone coming out); wherever on the spectrum of observance one falls (as far as I could find). A mikvah isn’t a bath, it’s not about physical cleanliness—you must first thoroughly clean yourself, clip your nails, and brush your teeth. Nail polish and makeup are removed. There can’t be any barriers between you and the water. Most mikva’ot these days, particularly women’s mikva’ot, have preparation rooms so you can prep on site. When you immerse, you have to submerge completely—your hair can’t be floating above the water, your mouth can’t be pursed tightly, your hands can’t be clenched so the water can’t get to your palms. If you do it wrong, it doesn’t count and you have to do it again. It’s not a “framing,” it’s a ritual practice governed by ritual law.

We suggest you do mikveh in the way you feel comfortable for you and your experience.

This isn’t how this works. If you have a particularly extreme case, you can talk to a rabbi to see if there are any workarounds—for example, if excessive embarrassment would distract you from the ritual, you may be able to wear clothes that are loose enough that the water still makes contact with every millimeter of skin. But you need to consult with someone who knows the minutiae of the laws and requirements so you know if any exceptions or workarounds apply to you. That’s what a rabbi is for. That’s why they need to go to rabbinical school and get ordination. They have to study. That’s why you need to find a rabbi whose knowledge and personality you trust. For someone calling themselves a religious authority in Judaism to say “you can do whatever, no biggie” with such a critical ritual is…I’m not sure what the word I want is.

The idea is to feel vulnerable but also to claim your body as a powerful site of change that has the power to move us close to our now unrecognizable futures.

The idea is to bathe in the living waters and enter a state of taharah. Though that could be an idea you have in mind while you are doing it, I suppose. I could see at least one writer I know of saying something like this to specifically menstrual married (presumably cis) women performing Taharat HaMishpacha (family taharah, see above).

For some people, doing mikveh in drag will feel most vulnerable, with all your make-up and best attire.

Absolutely not a thing. As I said last paragraph, the goal isn’t to feel vulnerable or powerful or anything. It may feel vulnerable or powerful, but that is entirely besides the actual purpose of the ritual. What you get out of it on a personal emotional level has nothing to do with the religious goal of the religious practice.

And if you are wondering how one would submerge oneself in water in full drag, don’t worry, we’ll get there soon.

For some, wearing a cloth around your body until just before you dip is meaningful.

This is just how it’s usually done. Generally one is provided with a bathrobe, and one removes it before entering. You don’t just wander around the building naked. Or the beach, if you’re using the ocean.

If you were born intersex and your genitalia was changed without your consent, thinking about your body as perfect, however you were born, can be loving.

I’m not intersex, so I’m not going to comment on the specifics here. If you are and that’s meaningful to you, more power to you.

We enter a new section, at the top of page 4.

Where To Do Mikveh: There is much midrash around what constitutes a mikveh.

“Midrash” is not the word they want here. The midrash is the non-legal side of the oral tradition, often taking the form of allegory or parable. This is as opposed to the mishna, which is the halachic (legal) side of the oral tradition. They were both written down around the same time, but most midrashim (plural) are in their own books, rather than incorporated in the mishna.

There is, however, a great deal of rabbinic discussion, in the form of mishna, gemara, teshuvot (responsa), legal codices, and various other genres of Jewish writing. More properly this could have just said “there is much discussion around what constitutes a mikveh.”

Most mikvot currently exist in Orthodox synagogues[—]

This is perhaps a minor quibble, but I don’t know that I’d say they’re generally in synagogues. They are frequently associated with a local congregation, but are often in a separate building.

[—]but there is a growing movement to create more diverse and inclusive spaces for mikveh. Mayyim Hayyim is a wonderful resource with a physical body of water mikveh space. Immerse NYC is a newer organization training people of all genders to be mikveh guides. They also work to find gender inclusive spaces for people to do mikveh in NYC.

This is true! Mayyim Hayyim is a wonderful organization I’ve never heard anything bad about, and ImmerseNYC also seems like an excellent organization. Both also only allow Jews (in which group I am including in-process converts) to immerse.

The mikveh guides thing I didn’t explain above, so I’ll take a moment to do so here. Because the rules of immersion are so strict, and because it’s hard to tell if you are completely immersed when you are underwater, most mikva’ot have a guide helping you. Depending on the circumstance and the mikvah, and depending on the patron’s comfort, who and how they do their jobs can differ somewhat. For a woman immersing after niddah, it will usually be another woman who will hold up the towel or bathrobe for you while you get in the water, and will only look from behind it once you are immersed to make sure you are completely submerged. If you are converting, customs vary. Some communities require men to witness the immersion regardless of the convert’s gender, which is very much an ongoing discussion in those communities. Even in those cases, to my knowledge they will only look once the convert is in the water, and there will likely still be a female attendant if the convert is a woman. While there are negative experiences people have had, it is very much an intra-community issue. We’re working on it.

Mikveh can be done in a natural body of water.

Again, this is true, though not all bodies of water work, so AYLR (Ask Your Local Rabbi).

Some people are also making swimming pools holy places of mikveh.

We’ve already explained above why this is nonsense.

In the Mishneh (the book that makes commentary on the torah [sic]) there are arguments as to what constitutes a mikveh and how much water from a spring or well or rainwater must be present.

The main issue in this section is their definition of the Mishneh. As I explained above, the Mishna (same thing, transliteration is not an exact science) is the major compilation of the Oral Torah, the oral tradition that was written down by Rabbi Judah Ha-Nasi so it wouldn’t be lost in the face of exile and assimilation. It’s not so much a commentary on the (Written) Torah as an expansion of it to extrapolate the religious laws we follow. It’s certainly not “the book that makes commentary on the Torah.” We have literally hundreds of books of commentary. That’s probably underestimating. Jews have been around for a long time, and we have been analyzing and discussing the Torah for nearly as long. There are so many commentaries on the Torah.

The second issue is that while there are arguments in the Mishna and Gemara (the oral discussion on the Mishna that was written down even later), they do generally result in a final decision of some sort. Usually whichever side has the majority wins. Variations between communities are still very much a thing, and I can explain why in another post if people are interested, but there usually is a base agreement.

We are of the school that says you decide for yourself what works.

The phrasing they use here makes it sound as though that’s a legitimate opinion in the Mishnah. I cannot emphasize how much that is not the case. While I myself have not finished learning the entire Mishnah, I would be willing to wager a great deal that “whatever works for you” isn’t a stance on any legal matter there. That’s just not how it works. While some modern branches of Judaism may have that as a position, it is definitely not Mishnaic.

If you are concerned about Jewish law, the ocean is always a good choice. There are no conflicting arguments about the ocean as a mikveh. As the wise maggid Jhos Singer says in reference to the ocean, "It's [sic] becomes a mikveh when we call it a mikveh." Done.

(To clarify, I don’t know if that typo was carried over from the source of the original quote or not.)

This is true. However if you are concerned about Jewish law I would very much urge you to look to other sources than this one—be that your local rabbi or rebbetzen, the staff at your local mikvah, or a reliable website that actually goes into the proper requirements. If you want to use a mikveh according to Jewish law, please do not use this document as your guide.

We recognize immersion in water does not work for every body. Therefore, a guiding principle for where to do a mikveh is: do a mikveh in a place that is sacred to you. Your body is always holy and your body is made of mostly water. Later in this guide there is more information on mikveh with no immersion required.

I cannot emphasize how much I have never once heard this before. This, to me, reads like New Age nonsense. If you are unable to immerse in a mikvah, talk to your rabbi. Don’t do…whatever this is.

Our next section is a short one.

Who To Do it With: Do mikveh with people you feel comfortable with and supported by.

This is fine, though many mikva’ot (perhaps even most) will only allow one person to immerse at a time.

Do a solo mikveh and ask the earth body to be your witness.

With this, we return to the strange smattering of neo-Paganism. The “earth body” is not a thing. Yes, the Earth is called as a witness in the Bible at least once. It’s poetic. You also, unless you are converting, don’t actually need a witness anyway. A mikvah attendant or guide is there to help you—if you were somewhere without one, you could still immerse for niddah or various customary purposes.

Do mikveh with people who share some of your vision for collective healing.

As I’ve said before in this essay, collective healing is not the point of a mikvah. If you are Jewish and want to pray for healing, there are plenty of legitimate places for this–the Shemonah Esrei has a prayer for healing and a prayer where you can insert any personal prayers you want; there’s a communal prayer for healing after the Torah reading. You can give charity or recite a psalm or do a mitzvah with the person in mind. You can also just do a personal private prayer with any words you like, a la Hannah, or if you want pre-written words find an appropriate techinah (not the sesame stuff). If you want to work towards collective liberation, volunteer. Learn the laws of interpersonal mitzvot, like lashon hara (literally “evil speech,” mostly gossip or libel). Connect fighting oppression to loving your neighbor or the Passover seder. We have tons of places for this–mikvah isn’t one of them.

Next segment.

What To Bring to A Mikveh: 1. Intentions for the ritual for yourself and/or the collective.

See previous points on intention.

2. Items for the altar from your cultural background[…] (emphasis mine)

If I wasn’t appalled by the “immersing in makeup” or the “do divination first,” this would be the place that got me. This is wrong on so many levels.

One is not allowed to have an altar outside of The Temple in Jerusalem, the one we currently do not have. It’s an extremely big deal. One is not allowed to make sacrifices outside of the Temple. Period. This is emphasized again and again in the Torah and other texts. Even when we had a Temple, there were no altars in a mikvah.

And you certainly couldn’t offer anything in the Temple while naked, as one is required to be when immersing in the mikvah.

Even when we did bring offerings to altars (the Bronze Altar or the Gold Altar, both of which were in the Temple and which only qualified priests in a state of tahara could perform offerings on), the offerings were very specifically mandated, as per the Torah and those other texts. Even when non-Jews gave offerings (as did happen) they were required to comply. You couldn’t just bring any item from your cultural background. This is paganism, plain and simple.

Now, again, let me be clear: if you’re pagan, I have no problem with you. My problem is when one tries to take a sacred practice from a closed religion and try to co-opt it as one’s own. It’s a problem when someone who isn’t Native American decides to smudge their room with white sage, and it’s a problem when someone who isn’t Jewish tries to turn a mikvah into a pagan cleansing rite. And even if the person doing it is Jewish--I have an issue when it’s Messianics who were born Jewish, and I have an issue when it’s pagans who were born the same. Either way, whether you intend to or not, you are participating in appropriation or expropriation.

Which makes the line that follows this point so deeply ironic I can’t decide if I’m furious or heartbroken.

After suggesting that the reader (who may or may not be Jewish) bring items for an altar to a mikvah, the Guide asks:

[…] (please do not bring appropriated items from cultures that are not yours).

Which is simply just... beyond parody. To quote one of my editors, “This is quickly approaching the level of being a new definition for the Yiddish word 'Chutzpah,' which is traditionally defined as 'absurdist audacity' in line with 'Chutzpah is a man who brutally murders both of his parents and then pleads with the judge for leniency because he is now an orphan bereft of parental guidance.' If not for the involved nature of explaining the full context, I would submit this as a potential new illustrative example.”

The next suggestion of what to bring is

3. Warm clothes, towels, warm drinks

All these are reasonable enough, though most mikva’ot provide towels. Some also provide snacks, for while you are preparing. They may also not allow you to bring in outside food.

4. Your spirit of love, healing, and resistance

This, again, has nothing to do with mikvah. The only spirit of resistance in a mikvah is the fact that we continue to do it despite millennia of attempts to stop us. Additionally, to me at least “a spirit of love” feels very culturally-Christian.

Our next section is titled “How to Make Mikveh a Non-Zionist Ritual.”

Right off the bat, I have an issue with this concept. Putting aside for a moment whatever one may think of Zionism as a philosophy, my main problem here is that mikvah has nothing at all to do with Zionism. In Orthodoxy, at least, Jews who are against Zionism on religious grounds perform the mitzvah the same way passionately Zionist Jews do, with the same meanings and intentions behind it. It is performed the same way in Israel and out, and has been more or less the same for the last several thousand years. It is about ritual purification and sanctification of the mundane, no more and no less.

There is a word for saying anything and everything Jewish is actually about the modern Israel/Palestine conflict, simply because it’s Jewish.

That word is antisemitism.

How to Make Mikveh a Non-Zionist Ritual: Reject all colonial projects by learning about, naming & honoring, and materially supporting the communities indigenous to the land where you hold your mikveh. Name and thank the Indigenous people of the land you are going to do your mikveh on.

If you removed the “non-Zionist” description, this would be mostly unobjectionable. We should absolutely help indigenous communities. The framing of “reject all colonial projects” does seem to suggest that there is something colonial about the usual practice of going to the mikvah, though. I would argue that the mikvah is, in fact, anti-colonial if anything—it is the practice of a consistently oppressed minority ethno-religion which has kept it in practice despite the best efforts of multiple empires. Additionally, while Zionism means many different things to those who believe in it, at its root most Zionists (myself included) define it as “the belief that Jews have a right to self-determination in our indigenous homeland.” Our indigenous homeland being, of course, the land of Israel. (This is different from the State of Israel, which is the modern country on that land.) If you are a Jew in Israel, one of the indigenous peoples of the land your mikvah is on is your own. That’s not to say there aren’t others—but to claim Jews aren’t indigenous to the region is to be either misinformed or disingenuous.

Take the time to vision [sic] our world to come in which Palestine and all people are free.

I really, really dislike how they use the concept of The World To Come here. The Jewish idea of The World To Come (AKA the Messianic Age) is one where the Messiah has come, the Temple has been rebuilt, and the Davidic dynastic monarchy has been re-established in the land of Israel. Arguably that’s the most Zionist vision imaginable. This isn’t to say that all people, Palestinians included, won’t be free—true peace and harmony are also generally accepted features of the Messianic Age. But using the phrase in making something “non-Zionist” is, at the very least, in extremely poor taste. (As a side note, even religious non-Zionists believe in this–that’s actually why most of them are against the State of Israel, as they believe we can’t have sovereignty until the Messiah comes. They do generally believe we will eventually have sovereignty, just that now isn’t the time for it.)

Hold and explore this vision intimately as you prepare to immerse. What is one action you can take to bring this future world closer? Trust that your vision is collaborating with countless others doing this work.

Having a “vision” of a world where all are free isn’t doing any of the work to accomplish it. A “vision” can’t collaborate. At least not in Judaism. This sounds like one is trying to manifest the change through force of will, which is something directly out of the New Age faith movement, where it is known as “Creative Visualization.” Even when we do have a concept of bringing about something positive through an unrelated action–like saying psalms for someone who is sick–the idea is that you are doing a mitzvah on their behalf, to add to their merits counted in their favor. It’s not a form of magic or invocation of some mystical energy.

(Once again: I have nothing against pagans. But paganism is incompatible with Judaism. You can’t be both, any more than you can be Jewish and Christian.)

Use mikveh practice to ground into your contribution to the abundant work for liberation being done. We are many.

If you will once more pardon a brief switch to a casual tone:

Nothing says liberation like *checks notes* appropriating a minority cultural practice.

The next section of their document is titled “Ideas for Mikveh Ritual,” and this is where the Neo-Pagan and New Age influences of the authors truly shift from the background to the foreground.  

We start off deceptively reasonably.

Mikveh ritual is potentially very simple. Generally people consider a mikveh to be a full immersion in water, where you are floating in the water, not touching the bottom, with no part of the body above the surface (including the hair).

Technically, most people consider a mikveh to be a ritual bath (noun) in which one performs various Jewish ritual immersions. But if we set this aside as a typo, this is…fairly true. What they are describing is how one is supposed to perform the mitzvah of mikveh immersion. However, in much the same way I wouldn’t say “generally people consider baseball to be a game where you hit a ball with a bat and run around a diamond,” I wouldn’t say it’s a case of “generally people consider” so much as “this is what it is.”

This works for some people. It doesn't work for everyone and it doesn't work for all bodies. Because of this, mikveh ritual can be expanded outside of these traditional confines in exciting, creative ways.

Once again, if you are incapable of performing mikvah immersion in the proper manner, please go speak with a rabbi. Please do not follow this guide.

Before we continue, I would just like to assure you that. whatever “exciting, creative ways” you might be imagining the authors have come up with, this is so much worse.

Method One:

Sound Mikveh: One way that's felt very meaningful for many is a "sound mikveh." This can be a group of people toning, harmonizing, or chanting in a circle. One person at a time can be in the center of the circle and feel the vibrations of healing sound wash over their body. Another method of sound mikveh is to use a shofar or other instrument of your lineage to made [sic] sounds that reach a body of water and also wash over you.

This makes me so uncomfortable I barely have the words to describe it, and I know that I am not alone in this. This is not a mikvah. If someone wants to do some sort of sound-based healing ritual, by all means go ahead, but do not call it a mikvah. This is not Jewish. I don’t know what this is, aside from deeply offensive.

And leave that poor shofar out of this. That ram did not give his horn for this nonsense.

(I could go on about the actual sacred purpose of a shofar and all the rules and reasons behind it that expand upon this, but this is already over 9000 words.)

Method Two is, if anything, worse. This is the one, if you’ve seen social media posts about this topic, you have most likely seen people going nuts about.

Tea Cup Mikveh: Fill a special teacup. If you want, add flower essence, a small stone, or other special elements. Sing the teacup a sweet song, dance around it, cry in some tears, tell the cup a tender and hopeful story, hold the teacup above the body of your animal friend for extra blessing, balance it on your head to call in your highest self. Use the holy contents of this teacup to make contact with water.

This is absolutely 100% straight-up neo-pagan/New Age mysticism. Nothing about this is based on Jewish practice of any kind. Again, I’m at a loss for words of how to explain just how antithetical this is. If you want to be a witch, go ahead and be a witch. But do not call it Jewish. Leave Judaism out of this.

They end this suggestion with the cute comment,

Mikveh to go. We’ve always been people on the move.

Let me explain why this “fun” little comment fills me with rage. 

As you may recall, this document was published by Jewish Voice for Peace. Among their various other acts of promoting and justifying antisemitism, JVP has repeatedly engaged in historical revisionism regarding Jews and Jewish history. In this context, they have repeatedly ignored the numerous expulsions of Jews from various countries, and blaming sinister Zionist plots to explain any movement of expelled Jews to Israel (“In the early 1950s, starting two years after the Nakba, the Israeli government facilitated a mass immigration of Mizrahim,” from “Our Approach to Zionism” on the JVP website; see @is-the-thing-actually-jewish’s post on JVP and the posts linked from there).

So a document published by JVP framing Jewish movement as some form of free spirited 1970s-esque Bohemian lifestyle or the result of us being busy movers-and-shakers is a direct slap in the face to the persecution we’ve faced as a people and society.  No, we aren’t “on the move” because we’re hippies wandering where the wind takes us . We’re always on the move because we keep getting kicked out and/or hate-crimed until we leave.

But there is no Jew-hatred in Ba Sing Se.

Method three:

Fermentation Mikveh: Some food goes through natural changes by being immersed in water. If we eat that food, we can symbolically go through a change similar to the one the food went through.

Again, this has no basis anywhere in halacha. We do have concepts of “you are what you eat,” specifically with reference to what animals and birds are kosher, but there isn’t any food that makes you tahor if you eat it. In the Temple days there were, in fact, foods you couldn’t eat unless you were tahor.

Jews may like pickles, but that doesn’t mean we think they purify you.

Also, the change from fermentation is, if anything, the opposite of the change we would want. Leavening (rising in dough or batter, due to the fermentation of yeast) is compared in rabbinic writings to arrogance and ego, as opposed to the humility of matza, the “poor man’s bread” (see here, for example). Is the suggestion here to become more egotistical?

As we wrap up this section, I’d like to go back to their stated reason for using these “alternative” methods (“It doesn't work for everyone and it doesn't work for all bodies”), and ask: if these really were the only options for immersion, would these really fill that same spiritual need/niche? These obviously aren’t aimed at me, but from my perspective it seems almost condescending, almost worse. “You can’t do the real thing, so we’ll make up something to make you feel better.” If any of them had an actual basis in Jewish practice, that would be one thing, but this just feels…fake, to me. Even within more liberal / less traditional streams of Judaism, there is a connection to halacha: 

“We each (if we are knowledgeable about the tradition, if we confront it seriously and take its claims and its wisdom seriously) have the ability, the freedom, indeed the responsibility to come to a [potentially differing] personal understanding of what God wants us to do… [Halacha] is a record of how our people, in widely differing times, places and societal circumstances, experienced God's presence in their lives, and responded. Each aspect of halacha is a possible gateway to experience of the holy, the spiritual. Each aspect worked for some Jews, once upon a time, somewhere in our history. Each, therefore, has the potential to open up holiness for people in our time as well, and for me personally. However, each does not have equal claim on us, on me…Portions of the halacha whose main purpose seems to be to distance us from our surroundings no longer seem functional. Yet some parts of the halachic tradition seem perfect correctives to the imbalances of life in modernity…In those parts of tradition, we are sometimes blessed to experience a sense of God's closeness. In my personal life, I emphasize those areas. And other areas of halacha, I de-emphasize, or sometimes abandon. Reform Judaism affirms my right, our right, to make those kinds of choices.” – Rabbi Ramie Arian

“[Traditional Reconstructionist Jews] believe that moral and spiritual faculties are actualized best when the individual makes conscious choices…The individual’s choices, however, can and should not be made alone. Our ethical values and ritual propensities are shaped by the culture and community in which we live. Living a Jewish life, according to the Reconstructionist understanding, means belonging to the Jewish people as a whole and to a particular community of Jews, through which our views of life are shaped. Thus, while Reconstructionist communities are neither authoritarian nor coercive, they aspire to influence the individual’s ethical and ritual choices–through study of Jewish sources, through the sharing of values and experiences, and through the impact of the climate of communal opinion on the individual. …While we may share certain values and life situations, no two sets of circumstances are identical. We hope that the Reconstructionist process works to help people find the right answers for themselves, but we can only assist in helping individuals to ask the right questions so that their choices are made in an informed way within a Jewish context. To be true to ourselves we must understand the differences in perception between us and those who have gone before, while retaining a reverence for the traditions they fashioned. If we can juxtapose those things, we ensure that the past will have [in the phrase of Reconstructionism’s founder, Mordecai Kaplan,] a vote, but not a veto.” – Rabbi Jacob J. Straub (Note: the Reconstructionist movement was founded in the late 1920s, and has gone through a very large shift in the past decade or so. I use “Traditional” here to refer to the original version of the movement as opposed to those who have shifted. Both are still called Reconstructionist, so it’s a bit confusing. This is on the advice of one of my editors, who is themself Traditional Reconstructionist.)

You may note, neither of these talk about inventing things from whole cloth. To paraphrase one of my editors, “You don’t completely abandon [halacha], because if you did how would you have a cohesive community? Even in a ‘do what’s meaningful’ framework, you’re taking from the buffet, not bringing something to a potluck. Even if you don’t see halacha as binding, there are limits.”

(Again, disclaimer that the above knowledge of non-Orthodox movements comes from my editors, and any errors are mine.)

The next section is “Prayers for Mikveh.”

As a note, I’m going to censor the names of God when I quote actual blessings, as per traditional/Halachic practice. I’ll be putting brackets to indicate my alterations.

I’m not going to go much into detail here, because frankly my Hebrew isn’t good enough, and the six different people I asked for help gave me at least six different answers, but I will touch on it a bit.

First, the Guide gives a link to an article on Traditional Mikveh Blessings from Ritualwell (here is a link on the Wayback Machine, since the original requires you to make an account). Ritualwell is a Reconstructionist Jewish website, and accepts reviewed submissions. Here is their about page. The blessings on this page, as far as I know, are in fact exactly what it says on the tin. I’m not sure the first one, asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al ha-t’vilah, is said for non-obligatory immersions (i.e. not for niddah or conversion), as it is literally a blessing on the commandment. The second blessing at that link is Shehecheyanu, which the Guide also suggests as a good prayer. This is the traditional form of the blessing, given at Ritualwell:

Baruch Atah Ado[-]nai Elo[k]eynu Melech Ha-Olam shehekheyanu v’kiyimanu v’higiyanu lazman hazeh.

Blessed are You, [LORD] our God, Monarch of the universe, Who has kept us alive and sustained us, and brought us to this season.

(As a quick note, you may notice this is not quite how they translate it on Ritualwell–I have no idea why they say “kept me alive,” as it’s definitely “us” in the Hebrew. There’s a long tradition, in fact, of praying for the community rather than ourselves as an individual, but that’s not the point of this post.)

The Guide, however, gives an alternate form:

B’rucha At y[-]a Elo[k]eynu Ruakh haolam shehekheyatnu v’kiyimatnu v’higiyatnu lazman hazeh. You are Blessed, Our God, Spirit of the World, who has kept us in life and sustained us, enabling us to reach this season.

Under the assumption that most of you don’t know Hebrew, I’m going to break this down further. The main difference between these two is grammatical gender–the traditional blessing uses masculine forms, which is common when referring to God. However, while there are often masculine descriptions of God, it is worth noting that Hashem is very specifically not a “man”--God is genderless and beyond our comprehension, and masculine is also used in Hebrew for neutral or unspecified gender. A whole discussion of gender and language is also beyond the scope of this post, but for now let’s leave it at: changing the gender for God in prayer is pretty common among less traditional Jews, and that’s fine. Some of the changes they make (or don’t make) here are interesting, though. The two letter name of God they switch to is–despite ending in a hey (the “h” letter)–not feminine grammatically feminine. I’m told, however, that some progressive circles consider it neutral because it “sounds feminine.” “Elo-keynu” is also grammatically masculine, but a) that’s used for neuter in Hebrew and b) it’s also technically plural, so maybe they didn’t feel the need to change it. Though if that’s the case I would also have thought that Ado-nai (the tetragrammaton) would be fine, as it’s also technically male in the same way. I’m also not sure why they didn’t just change ”Melech HaOlam” to “Malkah HaOlam,” which would be the feminine form of the original words, but perhaps they were avoiding language of monarchy. It’s apparently a not uncommon thing to change.

One of the responses I got said the vowels in the verbs were slightly off, but I can’t say much above that, for the reasons given at the beginning of this section.

Also, and this is comparatively minor, the capitalization in the transliteration is bizarre. They capitalize “At” (you) and “Elo[k]eynu” (our God), but not “y[-]a…” which is the actual name of God in the blessing and should definitely be capitalized if you are capitalizing.

The Guide next gives a second blessing that can be used:

B’rucha at shekhinah eloteinu ruach ha-olam asher kid-shanu bi-tevilah b’mayyim hayyim. Blessed are You, Shekhinah, Source of Life, Who blesses us by embracing us in living waters. -Adapted by Dori Midnight 

The main thing I want to note about this is that…that’s not an accurate translation. It completely skips the word “eloteinu.” “Ruach ha-olam” means “spirit/breath of the universe/world,” not “Source of Life,” which would be “M’kor Ha-Olam,” as mentioned above. “Kid-shanu,” as she transliterates it, means “has sanctified us,” or “has made us holy,” not “blesses us”--both the tense and the word are wrong. “Bi-tevilah” doesn’t mean “embracing us,” either, it means “with immersing.” In full, the translation should be:

“Blessed are You, Shekhinah, our God, Spirit of the World, Who has sanctified us with immersion in living waters.”

The Shekhinah is an aspect/name of God(dess), though not a Name to the same level as the ones that can’t be taken in vain. It refers to the hidden Presence of God(dess) in our world, and is the feminine aspect of God(dess), inasmuch as God(dess) has gendered aspects–remember, our God(dess) is One. It’s not an unreasonable Name to use if you are trying to make a prayer specifically feminine.

(Though do be careful if you see it used in a blessing in the wild, because Messianics use it to mean the holy ghost.)

“Eloteinu” is, grammatically, the feminine form of Elokeinu (according to the fluent speakers I asked, though again I got several responses).

It is, again, odd that they don’t capitalize transliterated names of God, though here there is more of an argument that it’s a stylistic choice, Hebrew not having capital letters.

The Guide then repeats the link for Ritualwell.

Finally, we come to the last section, “Resources and Our Sources:”

First, they credit the Kohenet Institute and two of its founders. I do not want to go on a deepdive into the Kohenet Institute also, as this is already long enough, but I suppose I should say a bit.

The Kohenet Institute was a “clergy ordination program, a sisterhood / siblinghood, and an organization working to change the face of Judaism. For 18 years, Kohenet Hebrew Priestess Institutes founders, graduates and students reclaimed and innovated embodied, earth-based feminist Judaism, drawing from ways that women and other marginalized people led Jewish ritual across time and space” (Kohenet Hebrew Priestess Institute Homepage). It closed in 2023.

I have difficulty explaining my feelings about the Kohenet Institute. On the one hand, the people who founded it and were involved in it, I’m sure, were very invested in Judaism and very passionate in their belief. As with the authors of the Guide, I do not mean to attack them–I’m sure they’re lovely people.

On the other, I have trouble finding a basis for any of their practices, and most of what practices I do find trouble me–again, with the caveat that I am very much not into mysticism, so take my opinion with a grain of salt.

Of the three founders, only one (Rabbi Jill Hammer) seems to have much in the way of scholarly background. Rabbi Hammer, who was ordained at the Jewish Theological Seminary (a perfectly respectable school), has at least one article where she quotes the New Testament and a Roman satirist making fun of a Jewish begger who interpret dreams for money as proof “that Jewish prophetesses existed in Roman times,” which to me at least seems like saying that the Roma have a tradition of seeresses based on racist caricatures of what they had to do to survive, if you’ll pardon the comparison. In the same article, she says that Sarah and Abigail, who are listed in the Talmud as prophetesses “are not actually prophetesses as I conceptualize them here,” (pg 106) but that “abolitionist Ernestine Rose, anarchist Emma Goldman, and feminist Betty Friedan stand in the prophetic tradition.” Given God says explicitly in the text, “Regarding all that Sarah tells you, listen to her voice” (Genesis 21:12), I have no idea where she gets this.

The second founder, Taya Mâ Shere, describes the Institute on her website as “spiritual leadership training for women & genderqueer folk embracing the Goddess in a Jewish context,” which to me is blatantly what I and some of my editors have taken to calling Jews For Lilith. Now, it is possible this is a typo. However assuming it is not, and it would be a weird typo to have, this rather clearly reads as “the Goddess” being something one is adding a Jewish context to–which is exactly what I mean when I say this guide is taking Paganism and sprinkling a little Judaism on it. If it had said “embracing Goddess in a Jewish context,” I’d have no problem (aside from weird phrasing)--but “the Goddess” is very much a “divine feminine neo-pagan” kind of thing. We don’t say “the God” in Judaism, or at least I’ve never heard anyone do so. We just say God (or Goddess), because there’s only the one. In fact, according to this article, she returned to Judaism from neo-Paganism, and “began to combine the Goddess-centered practices she had co-created in Philadelphia with what she was learning from teachers in the Jewish Renewal movement, applying her use of the term Goddess to Judaism’s deity.” The “Goddess-centered practices” and commune in Philadelphia are described earlier in the article as “influenced by Wiccan and Native American traditions, in ways that Shere now considers appropriative (“After Kohenet, Who Will Lead the Priestesses?” by Noah Phillips).” I’m not sure how it suddenly isn’t appropriative now, but taking the Pagan practices you were doing and now doing those exact same rituals “but Jewish” is, in fact, still Pagan.

Shere also sells “Divining Pleasure: An Oracle for SephErotic Liberation,” created by her and Bekah Starr, which is a “divination card deck and an Omer counter inviting you more deeply into your body, your pleasure and your devotion to collective liberation.”

I hate this.

I hate this so much.

For those who don’t know, the Omer is the period between the second day of Passover and the holiday of Shavuot, 50 days later. It’s named for the Omer offering that was given on Passover, and which started the count of seven weeks (and a day, the day being Shavuot). The Omer, or at least part of it, is also traditionally a period of mourning, much like the Three Weeks between the fasts of the 17th of Tammuz and the 9th of Av–we don’t have weddings, we don’t listen to live music, we don’t cut our hair. It commemorates (primarily) the deaths of 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva in a plague (possibly a metaphor for persecution or the defeat of the Bar Kochba revolt). It is often used as a time for introspection and self-improvement, using seven of the Kabbalistic Sephirot as guides (each day of the week is given a Sephira, as is each week, so each day of the 49 is x of y, see here). It’s not, as Shere’s class “Sex and the Sephirot: A Pleasure Journey Through the Omer” puts it, a time to “engage…toward experiencing greater erotic presence, deepening our commitment to nourishing eros, and embracing ritual practices of…pleasure.”

The final of the founders, Shoshana Jedwab, seems to be primarily a musician. In her bio on her website, scholarship and teaching are almost afterthoughts. I can find nothing about her background or classes. She’s also, from what I’ve found, the creator of the “sound mikvah.”

So all in all, while I’m sure they’re lovely people, I find it difficult to believe that they are basing their Institute on actual practices, particularly given they apparently include worship of Ashera as an “authentic” Jewish practice, see the above Phillips article and this tumblr post.

The institute also lists classes they offered, which “were open to those across faith practices - no background in Judaism necessary.” If you scroll down the page, you will see one of these courses was titled “Sefer Yetzirah: Meditation, Magic, & the Cosmic Architecture.” Sefer Yetzirah, for those of you unaware, “is an ancient and foundational work of Jewish mysticism.”

You may recall my saying something some 5700 (yikes) words ago about Jewish mysticism (i.e. Kabbalah) being a closed practice.

You may see why I find the Kohenet Institute problematic.

I will grant, however, that I have not listened to their podcasts nor read their books, so it is possible they do have a basis for what they teach. From articles I’ve read, and what I’ve found on their websites, I am unconvinced.

Returning to our original document, the Guide next gives several links from Ritualwell, which I’ve already discussed above. After those, they give links to two actual mikvah organizations: Mayyim Hayyim and Immerse NYC. Both are reputable organizations, and are Open Mikvahs. Neither (at least based on their websites) seem to recommend any of the nonsense in this Guide. In fact, Mayyim Hayyim explicitly does not allow non-Jews to immerse (unless it’s to convert). ImmerseNYC has advice to create a ritual in an actually Jewish way. I would say the link to these two groups are, perhaps, the only worthwhile information in this Guide.

They then list a few “mikveh related projects,” two of which are by the writers. The first, Queer Mikveh Project, is by one of the authors, Rebekah Erev. The link they give is old and no longer works, but on Erev’s website there is information about the project. Much of the language is similar to that in this guide. The page also mentions a “mikvah” ritual done to protest the Dakota Access Pipeline, in which “the mikveh…[was] completely optional.” And, of course, there was an altar. The second project, the “Gay Bathhouse” by (I believe) the other author and Shelby Handler, is explicitly an art installation.

The final link is to this website (thanks to the tumblr anon who found it), which is the only source we’ve been able to find on Shekinah Ministries (aside from a LOT of Messianic BS from unrelated organizations of the same name). So good news–this isn’t a Messianic. Bad news, it also seems to have a shaky basis in actual Jewish practice at best. It is run by artist Reena Katz, aka Radiodress, whose MKV ritual is, like “Gay Bathhouse,” a performance project. As you can see from the pictures on Radiodress’s website (cw for non-sexual nudity and mention of bodily fluids), it is done in a clearly portable tub in a gallery. As part of the process, participants are invited to “add any material from their body,” including “spit, urine, ejaculate, menstrual blood,” “any medication, any hormones they might be taking,” and supplies Radiodress offers including something called “Malakh Shmundie,” “a healing tincture that translates to “angel pussy” made by performance artist Nomy Lamm” (quotes from “An Artist’s Ritual Bath for Trans and Queer Communities” by Caoimhe Morgan-Feir). The bath is also filled by hand, which is very much not in line with halacha. Which, if you’re doing performance art, is fine.

But this Guide is ostensibly for authentic Jewish religious practice.

And with that (aside from the acknowledgements, which I don’t feel the need to analyze), we are done. At last.

Thank you for reading this monster of a post. If you have made it this far, you and I are now Family. Grab a snack on your way out, you deserve it.

Further Reading and Resources:

https://www.mayyimhayyim.org/risingtide/members/

https://www.mikvah.org/directory

https://www.mayyimhayyim.org/

http://www.immersenyc.org/

https://aish.com/what-is-a-mikveh/

https://www.chabad.org/theJewishWoman/article_cdo/aid/1541/jewish/The-Mikvah.htm

https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/1230791/jewish/Immersion-of-Vessels-Tevilat-Keilim.htm

https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/why-immerse-in-the-mikveh/

Meth, Rabbi Ephraim. 50 Mikvahs That Shaped History. Feldheim Publishers, 2023.

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “communication breakdown” prompts

“I’m so sick and tired of being treated as a joke by you!” 

“…I’m never fucking heard. Whatever I say doesn’t matter. And I’m just… Tired. I quit.” 

“You always seem to think you’re better than me.” “I never fucking said that—” “Well, you certainly act like it!” 

“You really think you’re all that, don’t you? You’re literally nothing. You’re worthless. Now how do you think that would feel, being told that by the one who supposedly loves you, every single day? Not very amazing, I’d assume. Then I’ve got fucking news for you, you shit stain of a human being.” 

“I deserve better than whatever you’re giving me.” 

“You keep saying you’ll do better but you never do. How much longer do I have to wait? I don’t have all of my life to waste.”

“…Because I was never enough for you, was I? That’s why you treat me like shit.”

“Just a little bit more and—” “I’ve been patient with you, time and time again, so don’t you fucking dare tell me to wait. I’ve been waiting this whole fucking relationship but nothing seems to ever improve.” 

“Because it’s always about you, isn’t it?”

“See, this is what I’m telling you! You always think the whole world is against you. But what about me? I’ve been here for you this whole fucking time. Does that not count for anything, or am I just someone who’s always going to be on the bleachers, cheering you on like the side character I’ve been relegated to?” 

“It’s almost like I’m a footnote in your story. And that’s not what I want to be. That’s not what I deserve.”  

“The difference here is I’m the side character in your story, while you’ve always been the main in mine. And that shit hurts. So fucking much.” 

“…I don’t want to cry over you anymore. I don’t want you to be the reason why I run to my friends, crying my heart out because all you’ve done is fuck me over, time and time again.” 

“I stayed for this long because I genuinely thought you’d become better, but I think I’m starting to realise you’re not going to become the better I deserve. And I sure as hell am not going to continue to help you become better for someone else. So, I’m removing myself from this shitshow before I hurt myself even further.” 

“You’re a stain. A mistake I will always come back to and wish I was smart enough to have never made. A shitty reminder of my past.” 

Join my Discord server: Steaming Dumplings Nation

[syluslnd]

Could you maybe do one where reader is a tomboy but decides to wear a skirt in front of Sylus for the first time for a date but is really shy about it? And maybe when he sees how shy she is, he teases her about it? :3

wearing a skirt for the first time in front of sylus

The restaurant was extravagant with glittering chandeliers and white linen tablecloths and you felt out of place as soon as you stepped through the doors. The soft, unfamiliar swish of the skirt you wore made you tug at the fabric, self-conscious. This was the first time you’d ever worn one and it was just for him—Sylus, who had insisted on taking you to this fancy place for a “proper night out.”

As you stood just inside the entrance, nervously smoothing your skirt, you saw Sylus waiting for you near your table. His eyes locked on you immediately, widening just a fraction as he took in your outfit—a soft blouse paired with a modest skirt that fell just above your knees.

“Well, well” he said with a smirk, moving towards you, his gaze practically gleaming. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “It’s just a skirt, Sylus” you muttered, looking down, fidgeting with the hem.

He chuckled softly, reaching out to tip your chin up so you’d look at him. “Oh, I know, sweetie. But it’s on you.” His tone was teasing but there was warmth in his eyes, the usual sharp edge of his gaze softened. “I didn’t even know you owned a skirt. Did you have to raid someone else’s closet for this?”

You scowled, though it lacked any real bite. “No! I… I bought it. Just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight?” His smirk widened, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—a glint of genuine appreciation. “Now I feel special.”

Your blush deepened, and you looked away, wishing the floor would swallow you up. “Well, don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, kitten. This is more than enough for me.” He took your hand and led you to the table, clearly enjoying every bit of your discomfort.

When you sat down, Sylus didn’t let up. “You keep tugging at that skirt like it’s going to run away” he teased, a sly smile on his lips. “Are you sure you’re comfortable?”

You glanced at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again. “I just… I’m not used to this. That’s all.” You tried to focus on the menu, hoping the red on your face wasn’t too obvious.

He chuckled, setting his menu aside as he leaned in. “I can tell.” His voice dropped, becoming softer, almost… affectionate. “You look beautiful, you know?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I—well—” You stumbled over your words, suddenly finding it impossible to meet his gaze.

“I’ve seen you in a hundred different things but this… this is something new.” He let his eyes roam over you for a moment and you could feel his gaze even without looking at him. “And I have to say, I think I could get used to this view.”

You bit your lip, fighting back a smile. “You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

“Can’t help it” he said, his smirk returning. “You get all shy and it’s… cute.” His voice softened, a warmth in it that was hard to ignore.

“Cute?” you repeated, rolling your eyes in a weak attempt to hide your smile. “Right, because I’m so cute.”

“Yes” he said simply, his gaze meeting yours, completely serious for once. “Yes, you are.”

You felt yourself blush all over again, your heart pounding as you met his eyes. There was something more in his gaze, something that went beyond teasing, something that had been simmering under the surface for a while now.

And as you sat there, fidgeting in your skirt and trying to keep your cool, Sylus reached across the table, his fingers brushing over yours in a small, reassuring gesture. “Next time, you don’t have to dress up if you don’t want to” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But… if you do, I won’t mind one bit.”

Your heart fluttered and for once, you found yourself smiling back.

[steddiealltheway]

Steve sighs as Robin cackles and opens the door to the break room to add yet another tally to the “You Suck” side of her whiteboard. He hopes she lingers for a bit so he can get a break from the constant reminder that yes, he does suck. But the stupid hat and sailor uniform is enough of a reminder already.

And okay, maybe he enjoys Robin’s company a little bit, so maybe he doesn’t want her to linger for too long.

But he’ll never tell her that. Not in a million years.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone walk into the entrance and he turns to give his “ahoy there” speech that Robin refuses to utter a single word of. Only, he gets a little choked up when he realizes he knows the person.

Well, not exactly knows him. But it’s hard not to know of Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Especially if you go to high school with him and happen to be a jock, god forbid. Not that Steve ever disagreed with the things he said, although some of it went right over his head - okay, most of it did. But! All things said, Eddie had a habit of making himself known to people.

“Ahoy there!” Steve announces louder than intended. “Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain.” He leaves out his name because what’s the point? It’s not like Eddie isn’t aware of his existence or at least his last name which sometimes made a feature in his tabletop speeches.

“Steve Harrington,” Eddie says for him, apparently knowing his first name. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” Surprisingly, it’s not said in complete distaste. In fact, Eddie is smiling widely at him, eyes roaming over the uniform and landing on the hat.

Steve sighs, “Trust me, I know. So, what can I get for you today?”

Eddie smiles wickedly and asks, “Why don’t we set sail on this ocean of flavor and you can show me around, captain?”

A blush creeps its way up Steve’s neck and begins to burn at his cheeks. Probably from the humiliation. Nevertheless, he points out each different flavor and goes into detail about what’s in each since Eddie seems to be enjoying the humiliation, but Steve doesn’t mind it too much since he feels like he’s getting his undivided attention. And something about that makes Steve feel… less sucky.

He glances up at the end of his speech about the last flavor and catches Eddie staring at him with a small smile on his face, more genuine than before.

“What?” Steve can’t help but ask.

Eddie shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, but the lie is clear to both of them. “I’ll get the USS Butterscotch.”

Something about the flavor makes Steve hesitate.

“What?” Eddie asks this time, slightly defensive.

“Nothing,” Steve says with a shake of his head. “Cup or cone?”

Eddie laughs, “Come on, you can’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Eddie gestures at him. “Make that face and then pretend like you weren’t thinking anything.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at him. “And you can?”

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he leans across the top of the glass dramatically and puts his head in his hands. “I’ll get a cone please.”

Something about the image makes Steve laugh as he grabs a cone and scoop, making the order for Eddie. "You know." he says, wishing the ice cream was the slightest bit softer, "I was expecting you to get something like death by chocolate or coffee."

"Why's that?" Eddie asks curiously.

Steve glances up at him and shrugs. “Those flavors are more…” he struggles to find the right word.

“Metal?” Eddie asks, sounding almost hopeful.

“Exactly.”

The smile on his face grows. “Well, I’m glad you see me as someone metal, Steve. But what, just because you’re a jock, I’m supposed to expect you to like some gross flavor like bubblegum?”

Steve frowns. “I like bubblegum ice cream.”

Eddie sighs and runs his hands over his face. “Of course you do.” He takes a moment to look over Steve again. “But looking at you now, I’d assume your favorite flavor would be the USS butterscotch.”

“Because of the stupid hat, right?” Steve asks as he drizzles extra caramel on the top of the cone.

“I think the hat is cute,” Eddie replies.

The comment sends Steve’s heart into a bit of a frenzy for a moment before he collects himself and hands the cone over in exchange for the bill in Eddie’s hand. He counts the change two times, trying to make sure he doesn’t make a mistake as a bunch of panicky thoughts go through his head. He hands the change over quickly but hesitates when Eddie stares at it and frowns. “Something wrong?” Steve asks.

Eddie glances up at the menu, down at his change, and takes a moment before saying, “Sorry, you just charged me for a single scoop when this is a double with an extra topping.”

Steve frowns and looks at the cone. “The topping is on the house, but that’s a single scoop.”

Eddie glances up at him and raises his eyebrows.

“A generous single scoop,” Steve corrects himself.

There’s a pause before Eddie’s smile widens, and the corners of his eyes crinkle up cutely. “I think i just found my new favorite ice cream place.”

Steve laughs, “Better than Linda’s Ice Cream Parlor?”

“Linda would call this a triple scoop and wouldn’t give me a topping but she would still make me pay the extra just for asking,” Eddie complains with a smile.

“Well, I would never do that to you.”

“Is that so?” Eddie asks, leaning forward a bit.

Steve’s eyes glance down at Eddie’s lips momentarily as he tries to come up with a response.

“Hey dingus, there was a horrible delivery you missed…” Robin trails off as she looks between the two, effectively ruining the moment.

“See you around, Harrington,” Eddie says with a wink, tongue darting out and gathering up a bit of white ice cream and letting it disappear into his mouth.

Steve feels a familiar heat in the pit of his stomach and nearly groans. Instead he hurriedly tells Robin, “I’m taking my break!” And effectively ignores the look she’s giving him.

Back in the break room, Steve walks up to the board and stares at it, glancing at the “You Rule” column and whispering, “Almost,” before sighing and putting his head in his hands.

He can’t believe that Eddie Munson is sending him into a sexuality crisis. Yet, he hopes he comes back often the rest of summer. And maybe he’ll finally be able to get that “You Rule” tally.

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel secretly keeps a close eye on you after finding out you’re pregnant and isn’t ok with how you’re treated by your mother Marlene.]

Angst, child birth

PART TWO

Your mind couldn’t stop thinking about Joel now being around. He did as he said he would and kept his distance but you would feel his eyes on you every now and then. Ellie and you had both grown somewhat close for the last few weeks and so she helped you that morning make breakfast.

“Do you actually like doing this?” Ellie asked just as you felt a strong kick from the baby distracting you from answering her.

“Ouch” you chuckled as Ellie looked over at you.

“How does it feel?” she asked curiously staring at your belly.

“Um…a little weird but I’ve gotten used to it now” you shrugged.

“Wanna feel?” You turned towards Ellie allowing her to place her hand on your belly. Her eyes widening in amazement as she felt your baby move. You had no idea that your mother’s friend Victor was watching you in the doorway in a way you would have never expected. Joel soon walked in the front door wiping his hands off with a rag after doing some work for the day. Just as he looked up he noticed Victor down the hall. Joel noticed how he licked his lips as if he was looking at something that bought him pleasure, that’s when he heard your voice and realized he was staring at you. A crease forming between Joel’s brows, he cleared his throat purposely making Victor look back at him. Distracted with Ellie you hadn’t heard a thing as Victor walked towards Joel with a chuckle.

“Something about a pregnant woman I just find…sexy” he looked back over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you outside” he patted his back and walked out not realizing the threatening glare Joel had given him.

Joel took a step closer overhearing you speaking to Ellie.

“Do you think it’s a boy or girl?” Ellie asked as she continued to help you.

“I don’t know, I kind of hope a boy. Even though I’d be happy with a girl too” you shrugged with a giggle. Joel couldn’t help but smile as he heard the excitement in your voice.

You would see Joel through out the day but kept away from him at all times…anything to avoid any suspicion from your mother.

That evening you surprisingly all sat together during dinner, something that wasn’t done often let alone with Joel. Ellie sat beside Joel whom she didn’t really know but she seemed to be the only one to notice how he would sneak a look at you.

“So you’re getting close to having the baby huh?” Victor pointed out making Joel look up. God you wished there could have been anything else as a topic other than your baby.

“Mhm, eight months now and she still managed to not tell me who the hell knocked her up” your mother spoke sarcastically. You swallowed nervously taking a sip of water and remained silent until you felt a sharp pain.

“Ow” you gasped practically dropping your cup on the table. Joel eyes were alert with concern looking directly at you.

“And that proves me right” Marlene laughed ignoring the discomfort you clearly felt. It had been about a week now since you began feeling these sharp pains.

“Maybe you should lay down” Joel’s voice made your mother, Victor and Ellie look his way.

“I um-I think I will” you quickly responded as Victor quickly stood up.

“Here, let me take you to the room” Joel, not being able to say a word narrowed his eyes on Victor as he walked you out not even realizing Marlene was speaking to him.

“Miller!” She yelled out snapping him out of it.

“Hm” he looked at Marlene.

“How are you holding up here?” She asked with a squint of her eyes.

“Just fine, why?” She looked down at his plate and noticed he hadn’t touched any of the food.

“Just making sure our guest is comfortable.” Joel wasn’t a stupid man, he could tell she wasn’t genuine in what she said but in that moment he didn’t give a shit. His only thought being you and Ellie could tell.

“I think I’m gonna go make sure she’s ok” Ellie quickly stood up and walked out of the room as Joel crossed his arms.

Victor had left you in the room and didn’t really say much. Of course, too distracted with your discomfort you didn’t pay attention to the way he had looked at you.

“I got it from here, thanks” you smiled at Victor just as Ellie showed up at your door.

“Hey you ok?” Ellie’s voice made you look up.

“If you need anything, call for me” Victor left the room as Ellie looked at him strangely.

“I’m fine. I think just tired from being on my feet all day” you sighed.

“So why don’t you get more rest?” She asked.

“Ask my mother, she doesn’t think me being pregnant means I can’t do the same amount of work. I think it’s her way of punishing me.” You shrugged.

“That’s stupid” Ellie whispered.

“Well, you get some sleep, I’ll make sure everything is cleaned up, I’ll see you tomorrow” Ellie was pretty sure you had already fallen asleep and quietly closed the door letting herself out.

Once she came back to the kitchen, she found Joel alone cleaning up. Joel was hesitant but itching to ask Ellie if you were ok but before he even asked she already knew.

“She’s fine” she suddenly spoke taking him by surprise.

“She’s asleep in bed” she turned and began to clean as if she had said nothing. Joel stopped and looked at her strangely.

“Beg your pardon” he attempted to somehow act confused.

“What, you don’t think I notice the way you look at her? What is she like your girlfriend or something?” His silence making Ellies eyes widen.

“Wait! Is that your kid?!”

This girl was smarter than he expected.

“Shut up” Joel whispered looking behind him to make sure no one heard her.

“Just don’t repeat whatever we speak of”

“I knew it!!”

“Don’t” Joel warned her.

“Duh, I’m not stupid” Ellie chuckled as Joel looked at her unsure whether to feel anxious that a child knew your deep secret or relieved that he now had another way to keep an eye on you.

“So she say anything else lately?” Joel proceeded to ask as he pushed a chair in.

“Um…she’s scared” Joel of course knew this but to hear it was different.

“Marlene is kind of a-“

“I know” Joel cut her off.

“Sometimes she doesn’t feel good and Marlene doesn’t let her rest. Like today, the only reason she let her go to the room was because you said something, she keeps her on her feet all the time. She thinks her mom does it on purpose” Ellie noticed the way Joel crossed his arms, chewing on his inner lip, anything he could do to not show Ellie how what she said truly pissed him off.

“Do me a favor alright” he whispered.

“Sure”

“Keep an eye on her for me, you come find me if anything. Understood?”

Ellie nodded as the two of them continued cleaning up.

The next morning you woke up to your mother barging into the room loudly telling you to wake up.

“Time to get up, it’s a big day, lots of work to do and-“

“Mom-“ you rubbed your eyes half asleep. An ache in your back that wouldn’t go away, your feet as swollen as can be.

“Mom…I don’t think I can today…really”

“Ah ah, honey. Now you know you don’t get to make those decisions.”

“Mom, please it’s not an excuse” she unexpectedly leaned over you with a look you knew you couldn’t dare answer back to.

“Get up and get yourself ready, today you’re working with Joel. Nobody told you to get pregnant” she left the room slamming the door shut expecting to see you outside very soon.

Of course today you would be working with Joel, how much worse could the day get?

Waddling to the room Joel was in, you saw him already stacking boxes. More cans of food had come in and needed proper organizing the way your mother liked. Joel turned not expecting to see you and instantly noticed you didn’t look right.

“What are you doin’ here?”

“I’m here to help you” you shrugged as you walked around the table towards the boxes beside him until he took a step in front of the them blocking your way.

“Oh no you ain’t, you better get back to bed. Now”

“Joel, I can’t”

“Why the hell not?” You could see the frustration clear on his face.

“My mother-“ before you could finish your sentence Joel cursed under his breath looking away.

“Look, you don’t know her. I can’t just ignore her and go to bed-“

“Then I’m gonna say somethin’”

“No!” You screamed.

“You don’t know what that would do to me, please” you whispered desperately. Joel could see the fear you felt and as much as he didn’t want to listen to you, he did.

“Fine” he grabbed a chair placing it beside him.

“You’re gonna sit right here and not do a damn thing” you sighed and gave in. Sitting down sounded like absolute heaven.

Joel watched as you sat in the chair and leaned your head back taking a deep breath with your hands on your belly. A black tank top fixed tightly around your belly as it poked out beneath.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just exhausted. I’m barely sleeping”

“Should be on bed rest not no damn heavy liftin’-“

“What the hell is going on here?” Your mother walked in to see you sitting back comfortably.

“Mom-“ you tried to sit up.

“It was me, I told her to sit down. She shouldn’t be out here”

“And who the hell are you to think you could tell her what to do?” In that moment Joel so badly wanted to tell her who the hell he was.

“I’m sorry mom, I just-“

“I don’t wanna hear a word. You can help Victor take crates off the truck-“

“Ya gotta be kiddin’ me” Joel uttered making your mother turn to him.

“There a problem, Joel?”

“No” you quickly answered for him but he had enough.

“She’s eight months pregnant, you’re gonna send her into a damn early labor-“

“Oh please, Joel. I did more work when I was pregnant with her than she’s doing now” Marlene rolled her eyes.

“The world ain’t like it was back then, she don’t have proper care, she don’t have a doctor-“

“We have a doctor here and he’s made clear she’s perfectly healthy and capable to do her part.” She turned to you with a threatening glare.

“Let’s go.”

Silently you walked past Joel obeying your mother. He watched in frustration knowing there was nothing he could do, not yet at least.

You knew your mother had lied to him, never had you been approved by any doctor to do any of this amount of work while pregnant. If anything the ‘doctor’ who saw you recommended for you to be on bed rest. You knew your mother knew how weak you had been lately. Something she purposely chose to ignore.

It had been almost an hour packing up the truck with Victor. Your back in unbearable pain, your ankles swollen as Victor handed you a box ordering for you to bring it inside. With a sigh you took hold of it and did as he asked.

Walking down the hall you passed the room Joel was in, his eyes unexpectedly meeting yours as you walked past the door.

“Hey-“ he ran up behind you as you took a deep breath. His hand taking hold of your arm and gently turning you to him, seeing how exhausted you look he brushed his hand over his face in frustration.

“Jesus Christ…look at you”

“I have to take this to the back-“ he took the box from your hands and put it on the ground not caring about what task needed to be done.

“Enough is enough with all of this already-“

“Joel” you whispered shaking your head.

“If you ain’t sayin’ somethin’ I will-“

“No!” Your eyes widened.

“Look, I don’t give a shit who your mother thinks she is. I ain’t gonna sit back and watch what she’s doin’ to you and my baby” his words leaving you speechless.

‘My baby’

This was actually happening, you were pregnant with Joel’s child. Your lips opened to speak but before any sound came out an overwhelming sharp pain struck you making you lean against the wall with a gasp. Joel’s eyes were instantly filled with concern as he moved in your direction.

“What’s wrong? What is it?” He asked eagerly. You shook your head taking a deep breath.

“I don’t know” the pain slowly subsiding.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. It stopped” you breathed in relief.

“No it ain’t fine, what if you’re goin’ inta labor or somethin’”

“I’m not going into labor, Joel. Look I know you’re worried about me but I’m fine. Now let me just-“

“I’ll take the box. Go lay down” you knew he wouldn’t accept any other response and so you quietly nodded and walked away.

The next few days Joel had Ellie stay close by your side making sure you weren’t over working yourself. Anything Ellie could do to make a task easier for you she would do when your mother wasn’t watching.

“Ellie, you really don’t have to help” you assured her.

“But I want to” she responded confidently.

“Yes but it’s not your job, you’re a child, Ellie”

“And you’re pregnant. Joel’s right, this is too much for you-“

“Joel?” You squinted your eyes at her.

“He’s the one who put you up to this?”

“Uh, no, uh I mean..he’s just worried.” she tried to explain.

“Don’t tell him I told you…please”

You sighed and assured her you wouldn’t tell him a thing as much as you wanted to.

“Well, let me check what needs to be done outside.”

As Ellie and you walked together, Joel watched from afar. Relieved that Ellie was beside you yet still wanting to stay close by.

Ellie and you laughed together before being interrupted by your mother walking towards you.

“I’m assuming all your projects are finished since you have time to take a stroll and laugh” she stopped before you crossing her arms. God your mom could really be such a bitch at times.

“I did finish most, I just was taking a minute-“

“We don’t have time for you to take a minute” she rose her voice making Joel look up.

“Mom, I’ve been working all morning-“

“And you’re still not finished. Get back to work” she began to walk away as you sighed and rolled your eyes.

“See what I mean” you whispered to Ellie making your mother turn back to you.

“What was that?” Before you could even say a word, your mother yanked you by your arm making you turn towards her, Joel immediately stopped what he was doing.

“Marlene..” Ellie spoke hesitantly.

“Go ahead, tell me what you’re mumbling on about” she continued.

“Mom, I don’t know what else to do. You have a problem with anything I do or don’t do, you’re being ridiculous-“ Marlene unexpectedly smacked you making you gasp. Just as Joel was ready to head to you Victor stopped him blocking his way.

“You gotta let them be, don’t get in the middle of that” Joel shoved Victors hands off him and walked to you ignoring his calls.

Marlene turned to see Joel pacing her way with a clear look of anger.

“What the hell do you want?”

“Joel-“ you whispered but he wouldn’t look your way.

“Joel, I suggest you mind your business this has nothing to do with you”

“But it does” Joel responded low.

Marlene furrowed her brows placing a hand on her hip as she took a step towards him.

“And how on earth would that be?”

Joel took a deep breath swallowing hard before his eyes turned to you and that’s when it hit her…

“Oh my God….” Your mother whispered.

“Mom-“

“You mean to tell me you…you did this.”

“Mom-“

“So this is why you’re here now? Is this your way to ‘help her’ after leaving her the way you did? Got what you wanted from her and you were on your way huh?”

“It wasn’t like that” his nostrils flared as he spoke before your mother continued.

“Joel” you attempted to speak again but neither listened. Ellie standing beside you noticing something seemed off with you. She watched as you slightly stumbled to the side with a wince.

“Hey guys” Ellie tried to catch their attention but once your mother began going off it was hard to get her to stop.

“I ain’t the one mistreatin’ her while she’s got a damn baby growin’-“

“Oh screw you, Joel!”

“Guys!” Ellie yelled making them both look your way. Joel’s face instantly changed when he noticed your discomfort and rushed to you.

“Hey, look at me” he tilted your face up to him as you winced.

“It’s the same pain as before, I don’t know what’s-“

“She’s being dramatic” your mother could be heard mumbling in the background.

“She’s been doing this for the past few days”

“And you didn’t think to stop pushin’ her so damn much?” Joel yelled looking back at her.

“She just does this to get out of work and-“

“Oh God I think my water broke!” Joel’s face turned pale as he looked down and noticed the clear liquid running down your legs.

“Shit-“ he whispered as you grabbed onto his jacket. Ellie looked at you in shock. Your mother could be heard saying things that you couldn’t make out. Joel stared down at you giving his all not to panic as pain slowly began to build within you.

“I’m takin’ you to Jackson”

“Excuse me?” Your mother spoke loudly as Joel lifted you up in his arms.

“She’s comin’ with me and so is she” he motioned toward Ellie as Joel walked past Marlene.

“Like hell they are” she yelled out following him as he got into his truck, sitting you in the back.

“Ellie stay next to her” he moved quickly as he got into the drivers seat as Marlene ran to his door. You could barely speak as the pain escalated.

“You can’t do this”

“I already am” he slammed the door shut before speeding off.

Thankfully Jackson wasn’t far from where your mother now was. It didn’t matter to you, you didn’t want to be near your mother any longer.

“How she doin’ back there, Ellie?” Before she could respond you suddenly wailed as you felt pain like you had never felt before. Ellie raised her brows unsure of what to do as Joel sped as fast as he could.

“We’re almost there, baby I promise” he looked up at the rear view mirror and could see you in agony as tears streamed down your face. His hands tightening on the steering as focused on getting you to Jackson as fast as he could. Your screams growing louder as Joel cursed at himself hearing the panic in your voice.

“It’s hurts so bad” you cried.

“I know it hurts, baby, I know-“ Joel tried not to panic. He tried his best to remain calm for you.

Finally arriving to where Tommy would be Joel quickly jumped out of the truck and opened the back door. Carrying you out with Ellie beside him he ran to the entrance screaming for the door to be opened.

“Tommy!” He yelled running inside making his brother look up.

“Holy shit..” Tommy whispered before running towards Joel to help him. Tommy led them to a room and quickly helped Joel lay you down as he realized what was going on.

“Please help me, Tommy” his brother could hear the desperation in his voice, he could see the desperation in his eyes.

“Here, I got her” Tommy’s girlfriend Maria walked in and proceeded to help you remove your pants as Ellie quickly covered you with a blanket. Maria proceeded to explain that she would check where the baby was, a slight relief feeling that you were with someone who seemed to know what they were doing. Joel quickly went around the bed pulling Tommy aside not wanting you to hear what they spoke of.

“They’re gonna be comin’”

“Who?” Tommy’s brows furrowed.

“Marlene…all of them-“

“Guys she’s crowning” Maria announced loudly making both men quickly turn to you.

“What does that mean?” You cried as Joel rushed to your side.

“That means the baby’s coming now” he explained taking your hand as you shook your head.

“It’s not suppose to! Not yet!” Joel could see the fear you felt, the shock in your eyes.

“You can do this, I’m right here” he spoke with genuine reassurance.

“Alright, on a count of three I want you to push really hard ok?” Maria instructed. Anxiously you nodded and proceeded to do as she told you once she asked you to push. The pain was like nothing you had ever imagined, the agony you felt you wanted so badly to be done.

Just ten minutes of pushing exhausted you when Maria finally yelled that the head was out. Your body weakly leaning to the side against Joel as you struggled to find strength to continue.

“Come on, one more push ok?” Joel whispered as he held one leg while Ellie held the other. Tommy standing behind Joel watching everything unravel so quickly when suddenly a baby’s cry’s made everyone silent.

In shock you looked down at the baby in Maria’s hands as she looked up at you with a smile.

“You have yourself a boy”

Gently cleaning him off she wrapped him up in a blanket and lay him on your chest.

“Oh my God…” you whispered looking down at your baby who quickly calmed down once you held him against you. Joel had tears filled in his eyes as he looked down at him, his hand gently covering yours. You felt his hand shaking making you look over at him. In that moment it felt like it was only the three of you in that room. Joel slowly looked up at you and with eyes so sincere began to speak..

“I promise you I won’t let nothin’ happen to our son or you.. I’m sorry for the way things happened, it was never my plan” he whispered. Quietly you nodded as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“My mom-“

“I’ll deal with her” he assured you before pressing his lips to your forehead and staying close to you both..

Tags: @harriedandharassed @locaparapedrito @untamedheart81 @rosaliedepp @illyanam1011 @hopefulatrocity @tikikiki @thewritermj @l0veang3l @moonpascal @katmoonz @joelsteinfeld @picketniffler @stcrrjoon @itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @bambisweethearts @baronessvonglitter @mangoslushcrush @guelyury @mynameistokyo @katiemarieeee

[crepezinhos]

Bohemian Rhapsody

POV: Ever since you found out that your boyfriend’s nickname has been mentioned in one of your favorite songs, Bohemian Rhapsody, you’ve not let him have a single minute of peace from it yet. You’ve been sliding puns, jokes and commentaries in every single conversation you two have had yet, and when you finally realized how cutely grumpy he’s been acting recently, he’ll finally out you back to your place by sliding something else inside you.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a NSFW piece

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Really quick oneshot

— Degradation, praising, usage of toys, bruising, hair-pulling, overstimulation, creampie and usage of nicknames such as “toy” and “pet”.

“When will this end?” That was the only phrase that has been running in your head for the last minutes.

Because how is this taking so long to end?!

Yeah, Bohemian Rhapsody is 6 minutes long, but you’ve been in this position for barely an hour! You want to rest so bad, but you’re barely in the middle of the song and Scaramouche is going to make sure that you’re 100% done with every syllable of it.

Wrists tied behind your back, legs and feet tied shut together, leaving your ass hanging in the air vulnerably to him, Scaramouche, who was sitting down at the bed with 2 pillows behind him with your chest laying down in his lap and fucking your brains senselessly like he was playing a game.

One of his hand was checking his phone for the lyrics of the music, while his other hand messed with the vibrator’s controller independently. The vibrator was shoved deep down in your pussy long time ago, thrusting you in and out over and over, and you’ve had an orgasm already, which explained your inevitable exhaustion and the creampie hanging in your folds, which he thought made you look twice as beautiful as you already are.

“Mama… ooh-ooh-ooh…” You repeated the lyrics, genuinely using the ‘oohs’ to moan your pleasure out of your body.

“Good…” He praised you while gently tapping at your buttocks with the same hand holding the controller.

“Just killed—” You were immediately shut down by his palm brutally slapping your ass for the tenth time and turning the strength and speed of vibrations to a higher level than before, causing you to scream and whimper in the spot.

“Wrong!” His tone was very ironic, but still very demanding. “Start from ‘Mama’.” He caressed the same spot of your buttocks he slapped, trying to relieve it, although his mean grin told you otherwise.

Every time you made any sort of mistake, he’d punish you just like that. Make you repeat the entire line, sometimes adding the line before it, while being brutally bruised by his hands and overstimulated by the vibrator’s intense waves around your gummy walls.

“Mama… ooh-ooh-ooh… I don’t wanna die…” You paused for a quick moment to process all the pleasure you’ve been trying to condense for the sake of your life.

“I..?” He tried to incite you into continuing with an enormous grin, enjoying every little corner of your pathetic face, whimpering, shaking and mewling with his torture.

“Sometimes—” He sighed and interrupted you again with the same punishment he’s been using, but this time you felt your hair being pulled in his direction right after bruising your ass.

“Word. By. Word.” He leaned closer and whispered in your ear in that dominant tone of his that turned you on.

“I sometimes…” You breathed in and out to process all that pleasure he was giving you. “Wish I’d never been born at all..!” You screamed as loud and quick as you could to make him stop with his punishment on your poor, abused pussy and hair.

“Good, good… Oh, look! Now is your favorite part!” Scaramouche thankful lowered the intensity of the vibrations and the force he applied to your hair, which relieved you so much, you threw your head down to his leg, drooling on his pants pathetically to grin Ally breathe properly . “Oh, no, no, no… you’re not going to relax now, not when we’ve finally arrived in hour favorite part.” He sounded more genuine with his dominance this time, pulling you back to his face by your hair, but this time using your roots instead, managing to control your head too.

So he used that newest power to make you directly stare at him.

“Say. It.” He grinned at you with a maniacal, sadistic smirk, although his other hand, which he used to begin cleaning your drool out of your chin was extremely caring and gentle.

“I see a little silhouetto of a man…” You closed your eyes and begun saying it.

“Which man?” He asked, trying to incite you to continuing as quick as possible.

“Scaramouche, Scaramouche… will you do the fandango?” You opened your eyes again, knowing that it would turn him on like hell to see you filling his ego so submissively and pathetically.

“And am I gonna do the fandango?” He asked, barely blinking in excitement for more of your self-degradation.

If only you hadn’t pissed him off by repeating that verse over and over throughout the entire week… maybe you wouldn’t have to be being so brutally punished like this.

“N-No… you are not…” You shook your head side-to-side, despite his brutal hair-pulling.

“And who’s gonna do any sort of fandango-lap-dance on my dick as soon as we’re done with this?” He touched your foreheads together.

“Me… I will…” You felt Scaramouche other hand move from your cheek to your head immediately after you said such submissive thing.

“So, let me repeat this verse...” He prepared his throat before beginning singing too. “Y/N, Y/N, will you do a fandango-lap-dance on my dick and worship it like the beautiful classic it is?” He sang the verse but in an extended, satirical version of it to degrade you.

“I will…” You nodded. “I’m sorry for pissing you off with my jokes… They weren’t even funny in the first place. From now on, I’ll be a better good girl for you and not piss you off like this again…” You said the words he’s been aching to hear ever since you began moaning the song.

Do you think he hasn’t been preparing this whole punishment and apology session for you when you realized you fucked up? He even made you rehearse that line a couple of times before doing the actual act. You’re dating Scaramouche, girl… what did you expect?

“Good fucking girl.” He slapped your ass in the same spot again, but in a more praising tone. “Now, continue, please…” And despite his satisfaction with your proper apology, he will always prefer to have you more than apologetic…

Also known as… broken.

“Thunderbolt and lighting… very, very frightening me…” You said it, but Scaramouche couldn’t hold his will to giggle at you once again.

“You’re mine… my worthless little fuck-hole to use and dominate whenever the fuck I want…” He commented while admiring the beautiful view he had of you. “Of course you’re forgiven, my love, but you’ll still have to show me just how much you regret being such a naughty, annoying girlfriend this week! So, be a good little pet f’me and keep singing the song like the pathetic, regretful and obedient whore that you are.” You nodded to every single degradation of his and swallowed all your exhaustion down.

“Yes, my mas—” He slapped your ass again, looking more serious than ever.

“Ah, ah, ah, what did I say? Keep singing.” He increased the intensity of the vibrator, chasing your whole body to tremble and arch in his direction.

“Galileo, Galileo…”

Taglist: @amoyanderes @the-stinky-winky @shyentsfoundherink @kindofshyent @bigmantiddys @luminieee @alatusorrow @goofy-ego

Sorry, the fluff is nowhere to be seen!

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it <3

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook loves to see you smile and you are the god of mischief.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff / word count: 2.6k

content/warnings: mention of childhood insecurity, mention of biting during s*x, jk is very touchy, they watch a movie and the guard thinks they’re doing sumn nasty bc they’re both a menace honestly 😭, jk accidentally bites his lower lip and bleeds

> in which masterlist!

note: hi !! this is a repost of a drabble i wrote two (?) years ago but accidentally deleted lololol so if you’ve read it before that’s why! but this is now an edited version with a new title <3

—

“baby,”

jungkook calls your attention out of nowhere, pausing the movie playing on the tablet you’re holding. the frown painted on his face is difficult to miss.

“i have a question.”

“so randomly?” you raise an eyebrow. “ask me then.”

“why do you cover your face when you’re happy?”

the wide-eyed look of genuine curiosity on his face is identical to yesterday’s, when he asked you what the word ineffable meant after hearing it in a song.

the question prompts you to take a glance at the screen, where a sophisticated woman has a hand over her mouth as she giggles with her elite acquaintances about an old but classic rich husband joke.

“it’s not that it bothers me, i just- i’ve noticed it lately and i-i wish to see you smiling and laughing more freely, you know?” he tries his best to choose his words carefully, offering you a kind smile as he lovingly caresses your head. “it makes me happy when i see you happy.”

“oh,” you blink at him, mind going blank as you attempt to form an answer in your head. his touch isn’t exactly helping you either— you just want to melt into him and not think of anything at all, float on cloud-nine and stay there forever.

however, seeing as he asked you the question out of the blue, he must’ve been thinking about it a lot. you’ve only been dating for a few months, so it’s understandable for him to eagerly seek the answers to his curiosities and observations. if anything, it feels nice to learn he gives this much attention to you— possibly notices things you don’t even know about yourself. for a split second the thought crosses your mind, that beyond a consciousness, you are tangible and real.

“it’s a habit i guess? when my teeth were falling out for the first time as a kid, i became insecure, so i decided that i’d just smile without showing my teeth from then on. like this.”

you demonstrate by lifting up the corners of your lips.

“and yeah-”

as if he’s helplessly pulled by the magnet of attraction, he leans down to kiss you and interrupt your sentence.

“i’d cover my face when i couldn’t contain my smile or laugh. and even when they grew back, it felt weird. like my smile didn’t belong to my face? if that even makes sense.”

“yah, that’s not true! you’re very pretty whether you’re smiling, or crying and-” his warm hand cups your cheek, and he stupidly grins as he’s about to say something cheesy. “even when you’re just breathing.”

the corners of your lips rise again. this time, it’s genuine.

“oh? how romantic.” you scrunch your nose cutely, and his heart flutters.

you hold onto his wrist, revelling in the way his thumb softly traces shapes on your skin.

“i’m over that, though. it was so long ago. i don’t think about it obsessively anymore at least. it’s really just a habit i haven’t gotten rid of.” you reassure him, meaning every word that you say.

we all have our secrets and fears that we keep only to ourselves, that much is understood between the two of you. there are circumstances in which withholding information is necessary. however, the one big promise you made to each other is to never lie. honesty and trust. ease and consolation. every word, every syllable hanging from your lips an addition to the naked history of your love. passed down stories. confessions. blurry memories. shutter sounds. curses. laughter. song dedications. that much is true.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you bite the inside of your cheek to conceal a smile, beguiled by his love drunk eyes seemingly stunned by your mere presence beside him.

“like what, baby?”

you shy away from his gaze. “like you’re either thinking that i hang the stars on the sky every night… or that you want to eat me alive.”

to confirm your words true, he takes your hand and sinks his teeth on the flesh of your palm where your thumb is connected. his wide doe eyes peer at you innocently, sparkling like of a little kid eating the fluffy pancakes he’s been craving since last night.

the latter might sound like a joke to others, but jungkook does eat you alive. almost. basically. you’re not even shocked at the act anymore. soon enough, you’ll memorize the mark of his teeth carving their mark on your skin, both in sexual and non-sexual setting.

“babe,” you send him a bewildered stare. “i really don’t think i taste as good as you make me out to be.”

he parts away with his eyebrows knitted in disagreement. “not true. you’re yummy.”

“oh, shut up!” you burst into a fit of giggles. your hands automatically attempts to fly to your face, but he has your wrists bound with his secure grip. you don’t resist. you only laugh harder when your sight lands on your hands tangled together.

“there’s ____’s beautiful smile.” he coos, proceeding to pepper your face with appreciative kisses.

and you fold. your back lands on the soft mattress, and your belly starts aching from laughter when he purposely blows on the spot on your neck where you’re most ticklish. hot tears gather at the corner of your eyes, and jungkook watches them fall down your temples as his lips graze your skin and your body shakes underneath him.

tears of joy and pleasure are the only tears you’re going to shed, he promises himself. you’re going to smile and make flowers bloom everyday, he promises you and the earth.

—

your teeth chattering from the cold is a shy away from your awkward smile, he notices the endearing resemblance as you shiver beside him.

“hmm, what did i tell you about cinema one?” he teasingly asks as he draws back the armrest that serves as a divider between the two of you.

“that it’s fucking cold in there-” you surrender, tone sounding annoyed. “here. whatever!”

“and who still decided to wear their smallest pieces of clothing?” he continues to taunt you while he pulls you into his body’s natural warmth.

you sigh, whether it’s in relief or annoyance, you’re not quite sure.

“i just wanted to wear my new cute clothes.” you whisper-shout.

the giant screen is still playing trailers of the upcoming movies this year, and you’re already mentally updating your calendar to accommodate them despite your hectic schedule. a two-hour vacation, you would always describe films.

he chuckles, and more shivers run down your spine at the deep and raspy sound being so close to your ear. “you do look cute today, baby.”

he catches the cloth of your skirt between his fingers, and somehow, he ends up squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh. you swallow thickly, unconsciously closing your thighs together and trapping his hand in between them.

“thank you, handsome.” you grip his wrist to move it away. you tut. “no silly business, though. i really want to watch this movie.”

his shoulders drop dramatically in disappointment. “okay… want to sit on my lap so i can keep you warm then?”

you look behind you to see that there’s no people sitting on your side, so no one’s view would get blocked if you were to agree to his proposition. the room is practically empty, with a few scattered people sitting on the sides.

you spend the first fifteen minutes of the movie in comfort and bliss, with your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around you. he took off his jacket earlier, and he splayed it over your lap as to not neglect the goosebumps rising all over your freezing legs.

“so stubborn,” jungkook muttered under his breath while he was taking off the jacket, an amused smile etched on his lips. you would’ve felt bad, but you knew he likes doing these things for you, so you only playfully stuck your tongue out at him.

look, to be fair, it is your first time in this cinema. you’ve been on many dates at this theater with jungkook, but for some reason, you’ve never watched a movie in cinema one until tonight. it’s cold in the other three cinemas as well, the kind of cold you’ve gotten comfortable with, so when jungkook booked the tickets last night and told you ‘it’s really cold in there, wear something warmer,’ you thought he was just being ridiculous.

hah, how cold could it possibly be? right?

fine, jungkook is right. you are stubborn.

and you prove it once more when a flashlight shines over your face. the security guard holding it approaches your seat- wait, no, jungkook’s seat. jungkook is your seat. what?!

“i’m sorry, but only one person can sit on the chair. please comply.”

you trace the direction of her eyes to find jungkook’s hands tucked underneath the jacket on your lap, resting on your inner thighs to steal their warmth. you send him a sharp glare, but it doesn’t affect him one bit. he only shrugs, obviously hiding a smirk as he pretends to be the most innocent person in the room.

you pull up the armrest next to you with a pout, slipping back into your original seat against your wishes.

“he was just warming up his hands. i promise!” you whisper not so subtly to the guard.

she only clears her throat and awkwardly nods in response, walking up the stairs to observe the rest of the movie watchers.

you bury your face in your hands as your body vibrates with mirth mixed with humiliation, and jungkook’s jaw nearly falls on the floor.

“sometimes i can’t believe you’re real. how do you never get shy?”

“i was just clearing things up!” you whine, hitting his arm using the side of a closed fist, which he massages with a squeaked ‘ouch.’ “you’re the one who put me in a compromising situation!”

“well, nobody told me taking care of my girlfriend was a crime!”

you carry on with watching the movie after that embarrassing scene, and you’ve forgotten that you’re cold until you’re uncontrollably shivering again. you begin rubbing your arms in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the goosebumps, but you eventually abandon all hope.

you sadly look over at your boyfriend to plead for help once more, but he has gotten too engrossed with the film to feel a pair of shaking pupils beseech him intensely. he finally opened the box of popcorn he’s been saving for the climax.

and he was the one who wanted to do something other than watch the movie.

you grimace.

you are no stranger to his confusing attention span.

after carefully studying the room to ensure the guard is no longer in sight, you unceremoniously climb on jungkook’s lap again. your actions cause some pieces of popcorn to fall from the box, and he scrambles to stuff them all in his mouth before the powder stains any of your clothes. yours are new, after all.

his face displays a puzzled expression, screaming i thought this was supposed to be a compromising situation?! and his soft rosy cheeks on the other hand-

“you look like a chipmunk who got caught in the headlights stealing food with its mouth full.”

the screen flashes a frame of the clear, blue sky in the aftermath of a ferocious storm. it sends the fleeting sunlight to shine on your face— just long enough for him to capture the image of how pretty you are when you giggle, and most of all, how your hand moves to cover your face, but drops on his arm before it could reach its intended destination.

he recognizes it as a conscious effort, and he feels a tug in his heart. his sweet, precious lover. you will never do anything wrong in his eyes, he thinks to himself as he hugs you closer for a kiss. the feeling of your smile against his lips might just be one of his most favorite things in the world.

he pulls away with a toothy grin to match yours, offering you the box of popcorn. the beautiful smile you claimed to not belong on your face lingers as you turn it down and sip on the lemonade instead. and then it simmers down to your usual mellow smile, to a deep frown, until your lips quiver as the resolution of the film reduces you into a puddle of tears.

jungkook likes to keep mental notes about you.

an excerpt from today:

1. how to make ____ smile? act cute.!! :)

2. how to make ____ cry? watch a son and mother reunite after eighteen long years.

p.s. i think i cried harder, but quieter ????

3. how to make ____ angry mad furious? kill off the said mother unnecessarily at the end of the movie for the sake of shu shock value.

the lights turn on all at the same time as the credits start rolling down on the plain black screen. your body slumps back on your boyfriend, drained by the series of overwhelming events that transpired in the past two hours. he waves his hand infront of your face, but your eyes remain unfocused and unblinking.

“this is the worst movie i have ever seen in my life. four out of five stars.”

he snorts at your unseriousness. “that is the most stars you’ve given this month. and it’s the 29th.”

“see? it’s the worst! i’m going to have nightmares!” you cry out with an exaggerated shudder, grabbing his forearms to envelope yourself in his embrace.

“honestly, pushing her off the cliff was a bit too mu-” his sentence gets rudely cut off when your shoulder accidentally hits his chin. you scrambled to go back to your seat, and this escalated to him accidentally biting the inside of his lower lip. the unusual mix of the bitter and salty taste of metal permeates his tongue as an unexplainable expression spreads across his face.

on the other hand, you’re too preoccupied with mischievously smiling at the guard standing down on the floor. she measures you up with a displeased look worse than earlier’s, but much to your relief, she proceeds to walk out after scanning the room one last time.

“baby!” jungkook yells in pain to grab your attention, jutting out his bottom lip to show you the wound that you inflicted.

“oh my god- shit, shit, shit-” you curse, digging your hand in your bag in search of your handkerchief. “i’m so sorry!”

you press the cloth on the bleeding, profusely apologizing to him with a wince. “i panicked! i’m sorry, i’m sorry!”

he pushes your wrist away for a moment, doe eyes squinting at you accusingly. “you just wanted to play around with her, didn’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, the sight of blood that has stained the handkerchief sends a pang of guilt across your chest. “sorry… her face- she was just so funny.”

“fuck, why are you like this?!” he throws his head back with a bright laugher that echoes throughout the theater. “ah, you’re so adorable!”

“come back here!” you scold him, holding his face in your hands to crane it back down.

he juts out his bottom lip again, but his body continues to vibrate with lighthearted chortles.

“does it hurt?”

“it hurts…! i think i might seriously cry!” he answers despite his high tolerance for pain, distorting the truth so that he could drown himself in the gratifying feeling of being doted on by you.

he writes another mental note as you inspect his wound, repetitive bloopers playing in the background of the love bubble the two of you share.

4. ____ likes playing games with strangers. must protect with my life.

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taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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[strawbeerossi]

Cherry

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You decide to wear a little tank top to your lecture and you catch the attention of Dr. Reid.

Content/Warnings: Power imbalance, professor/student, age gap (r 20s, s 40s), reader is a bit of a tease, tit worship, oral (m rec), tit fucking, cum on tits.

Word Count: 1.7K

Kinktober Day Twenty Seven: Tit Fucking

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

In your defense you had to do laundry and you just didn’t have the time before your lecture. You were lucky enough to find a pair of shorts, however you were stuck with a tank top that barely covered much of anything. You made sure to get your sweater before heading out, draping it over your shoulders as you were running out of your apartment. Campus was only about a ten minute walk, so you didn’t mind too much taking the brief walk.

As you’d made it to the old building where the criminal justice classes were held, you were pushing open the doors as you headed inside. Taking the same path as usual, it wasn’t long until you were making it to the lecture hall that Dr. Reid used Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. His class was always an interesting one, your love of criminal justice being newfound. At first, you’d audited a separate criminal justice class and ended up being genuinely interested.

As you walked into the heavy doors, you were blushing as all the eyes were on you. You were late, however it wasn’t too bad. Dr. Reid wasn’t on a long tangent yet so you knew you were safe. “Please take a seat.” His voice spoke up while he offered a smile, turning his attention back to the board as he was writing his layout of the lecture. “Make sure you sign the sheet as well, I need to keep track of attendance.”

As you made your way to an empty desk towards the front of the class, you were placing your backpack by your side as you kept your gaze on the board after pulling out your laptop to take notes. You’d spent a good chunk of class asking a majority of questions or being called on. Maybe you were delusional but you felt like he was putting extra focus on you today. You had hardly spoken to your professor, so you weren’t sure why the sudden interest.

It didn’t occur to you that your attire was what had his full attention. The way the white tank top showed off a tasteful view of your cleavage was enough to make Spencer want to drool. He’d always been a fan of tits, having an affinity with them. They were just.. So perfect. Soft, warm, begging to be touched. However, he tried composing himself. You were his student. This was inappropriate.

As the class was coming to an end, you were staying after to apologize for your tardiness. Not many professors accepted such apologies but Dr. Reid was understanding. He knew what it was like to be a student who was all over the place. Today though, he wished you would’ve left. “Dr. Reid, I just wanted to apologize. I know I wasn’t too desperately late but I still feel like it’s my responsibility to let you know that I’m sorry. I didn’t respect your time,”

Spencer was turning to look at you while putting his hands up. “Nonsense. I’d never hold it against you. Things happen.” His face was red as his eyes were struggling to say locked with yours. You were a bit confused by the look on his face but you had brushed it off. “I just feel horrible,” You spoke while you let your arms cross slowly over your chest.

Whenever you did, Spencer couldn’t help but let his eyes cast downwards, your arms under your breasts enough to push them up and give him quite the sight. His hand was slowly moving to straighten out his tie as he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from your smooth skin. That was hard to ignore so you let your eyes glance down before noticing just what captivated your professor’s attention. Instead of moving to cover your partially exposed chest, you were sticking it out more. You liked the attention, if you were honest. You weren’t used to getting too much of it.

Spencer was licking over his bottom lip while letting his eyes drag up from your chest to your neck, then stopping on your face. “I know what you’re trying to do and it’s inappropriate.” He stated in a simple tone while you raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean, Dr. Reid. I was just minding my own business and you were staring at my chest. I think you’re the one acting inappropriately, not to mention highly unprofessional.” You stated. There were no hard feelings actually, you just found it incredibly hot to find your professor staring at your body, a hungry look in his eyes.

“Wearing what you are wearing right now is equally inappropriate. Do you know how distracting it is whenever an attractive woman has her tits in your face for the whole lecture and after the fact?” He asked, continuing on with this little game. “You think I’m attractive? I’m flattered, sir.” You didn’t know where the rush of confidence came from, however you enjoyed this. Wearing a tank top and going braless to class wasn't a choice you’d made on purpose, however the reaction it pulled out of your professor was too good to pass up.

“I can always take it off instead?” You suggested. The mere idea being mentioned had your professor groaning lowly as he glanced at the door of the lecture hall. He didn’t have another class for thirty minutes, plus his fellow coworkers weren’t going to barge in because of their own plans. “Come here.” He grunted, waiting for you to get close enough before grabbing your tank top and tugging it down. Your tits spilled over the thin material as he did so, the male letting out a whine of sorts as he brought his hands to your chest. His hands cupped your breasts, giving them a squeeze and eliciting a whine from you. “Can’t believe you wore this to class of all places. I bet you wanted my attention.”

Your cheeks were heating up at the accusation, his hands kneading at your soft flesh as he was dipping his head down to flick his tongue against your right nipple. As he sucked and flicked at the hardened nub, your fingers tangled in his soft curls. “Fuck.” You cursed, watching as your professor was having a field day licking and sucking at your tits. He looked like a boob guy so it made sense on why he’d spend so much time in them. His warm tongue was dragging over every ounce of your skin as he alternated between nipples. While one was in his mouth, the other was being pinched and rolling through his long fingers.

By the time he’d had enough, he was pulling away with a satisfied hum as he assessed the damage he had made. There were purple marks all over your skin, nipples standing at full attention and the shine of his saliva shining under the bright lights of the lecture hall. “Get on your knees.” The man commanded. Who were you to argue? You watched as he was tugging down his pants and boxers just enough to let his hardened cock spring to life, smacking against his abdomen. You were definitely staring, mouth watering as you took in the beauty of the dick in front of you. With a slight curve and bulging veins along with a leaking head, it was a beautiful sight.

“Gonna have to have you get it wet enough so I can fuck those pretty tits of yours.” He murmured, watchinf as you were quick to take the tip of his cock in your mouth. You massaged his slit with your tongue before hearing him tell you to hurry up due to the time getting shorter and shorter until another group of students were coming in. Swallowing down his cock the best of your ability, you were letting your head move slowly along the shaft as your cheeks hollowed. Once he felt like he was lubed up enough to avoid rubbing your skin raw, his hand was roughly gripping your hair before tugging you off of him.

Your hands were coming up to your chest to push your breasts together, watching the male standing above you stroke his cock a few times before getting in a good position. His cock was sliding between them, a low groan leaving his lips. “You look so good on your knees for me.” He commented, voice low as he was starting by slowly slotting his dick through the valley of your tits. “Gonna make a mess of your chest. Gonna show you why you shouldn’t wear shit like that in my class.” He huffed, his thrusts getting a bit more intense by the minute.

As his cock slotted effortlessly through the valley of your breasts, you were dipping your head down to attempt at licking any part of him that you could with each thrust. Even with your spit lubing him up, you knew that you were going to feel the after effects later but you honestly didn’t care. His thrusts continued, eventually growing sloppy as the whines, whimpers and moans were falling from his lips. Even with some dominance, he whined and whimpered with each thrust, relishing in the feeling of your soft flesh enclosing his cock. “I’m gonna cum.” His voice slurred, thrusts still a bit sloppy but it wasn’t long until the warmth of his sticky cum was on your chest, some even on your chin from the line of fire. With his spent decorating your chest, Spencer had to grab his phone to snap a quick picture of you. “You look so sexy, I can’t help myself.” He chuckled.

As he was tucking his cock back into his bottoms and tugging them up, he was grabbing a tissue from his desk before offering it out to you, letting you get cleaned up. Once the tank top was covering your most valuable assets, he was chuckling. “You should get out of here.” He commented, making you nod as you tried to make yourself look presentable. On your way out, you stopped when you heard his voice. “Oh, by the way.” He began, making you turn.

“Never wear a tank top to my class again.”

[hazbinwhoree]

how would adam act with an incredibly insecure reader? i really wanna know what your headcanons would be about this

Adam doesn’t understand the concept of being insecure

As the first man, he’s got an ego bigger than his dick

So the concept is foreign to him

He does his best to be understanding, especially after he made you cry by telling you to “Just grow a fucking backbone.”

Sometimes, he finds it endearing, he likes boosting your ego and seeing you light up

“I feel like I look as gross as I feel right now.”

“You look sexy as fuck, I’d hit that.”

One of your biggest insecurities was Lute

She was just so perfect, Heaven’s best soldier, a beautiful face, and a nice ass body

You wished you could be her

And she and Adam were so close that you never pursued your crush on Adam because you thought you couldn’t compete

Little did you know Adam liked you and Lute acted as his wing-woman

Due to your insecurity, Adam is going to have to be the one to make the first move

So one day, after Lute had built up enough trust with you for you to admit your crush on Adam, he marched up to you, grabbed you by the waist, and kissed you

You were flabbergasted

“Did you mean to do that?”

“Holy shit, you’re insane. Of course I meant to do that.”

Asks you out and it takes five minutes because you genuinely think it’s a joke

You’re teaching him patience

He’s so sweet to you, in his own way

Always showers you in praise