#let us just get a little bit silly with it

[dilf-docs]

Hand To Heart (I'm Gonna Stay Faithful)

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: a pregnancy scare makes you realize just how deep you are in this.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., pregnancy scare, fingering (WE GET IT U LIKE IT), bit of praise kink, humilliation kink, breeding kink (they're stupid and insane acc), dacryphilia, sex thru the looking glass (there's a mirror in reader's dorm), ANGST in capital, they're starting to catch the feels™ ur honor, hurt/comfort, plot thiccens, this people are clearly NOT in a good headspace btw idk we listen read and don't judge.

word count: 4,757 words

side note: everyone calling this joel nasty but thirsting after him too? was going to hold a trial over my citizens but yk... what the hell, sure! i too want nasty bfd!joel to ruin me: he can be my baby daddy who doesn't pay for child support of our 4 kids and we'd make way to bed for our 5th LET'S GO also spam time! but i also happen to write in wattpad, and got a pedro pascal social media fic going on :) it's on spanish tho, but if u speak the language and would like to tune in, u can read it here

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It's a regular Tuesday when his phone rings at ten in the morning.

"Dad"

Joel gets up from his desk in a brash move, immediately picking up his daughter's worried tone. Tommy bursts inside, telling him to calm down, but all Joel can hear is the anxious beat in his chest.

"What's it, babygirl? You okay?" his throat tightens. "Talk to me"

There's silence before she answers, as if she's unsure to continue.

"It's not me" he feels his muscles relaxing, but then Sarah drops the bomb. "It's y/n"

Joel's heart beats with a different type of worry.

"What's wrong with her?" voice firm but emotionless.

It's almost summer again, and he's still seeing you. In a way, you had carved a space for yourself in his cold heart, so naturally, fear settles in. He'd never admit this things out loud, though.

"I don't know, dad" his daughter starts to rush the words out, panic evident on her voice. "She has locked herself in the bathroom and won't stop crying. I-I didn't know who else to call"

"Don't worry" but it sounds like he's trying to convince himself. "M' comin'. S'anyone else in there?"

There's a pause on the line before she answers.

"No"

He thinks of you. He'd seen you cry before, of course, but it'd been over silly childish stuff, like getting sent to bed early or not getting what you wanted for Christmas.

He thinks of you. Images of your pretty face, etched in pain, make his stomach drop. It isn't fair: your face was one destined to be happy for eternity, your smile so contagious Joel would sometimes find himself surrendering to your juvenile joy, his crow feet a little more notorious since you entered his life and carved your space on it by force; a light in the dark.

He just couldn't bear to see a mirror of his dullness on your face. It wasn't right.

"Stay put. I'll be there"

He tries not to think about your eyes drained of life. He tries not to think he's the cause. And then, he hangs.

As soon as Joel enters your dorm, your perfume is up his nostrils, providing him with a sense of relief he didn't know he needed. It was comforting and familiar, words that used to be hollow now carrying a knowing feeling that stung right on his chest.

"Dad" Sarah calls out, going for a hug. Joel embraces his daughter tightly while caressing her hair. "I'm so glad that you're here. I didn't know what to do"

"Breath in, babygirl. S'alright" he looks at your door, closed. Broken sobs can be heard, and his wounded heart feels like a heavy burden on his chest.

"My class starts in ten" Sarah speaks against the fabric of his flannel, "but I just couldn't leave her like this"

His daughter has a good heart. At least one of them did, anyway.

"Go to your class" he's commanding before he can fully process what he said.

Sarah breaks the hug, looking at him with a look he can't quite place.

"What? But, dad-" she tries to protest, concerned for your wellbeing.

"I'll take care of it. Always do, haven't I?" he sees her hesitation, and afraid of where her doubts would take her, Joel adds a small joke in there. "Y'know those classes ain't free, kid. Go ahead"

"Okay" she gives up. "Just... tell me if anything happens, yes?"

"F'course. Trust me"

"I trust you"

He still remembers when Sarah's kindergarten teacher handed him that drawing: Joel was wearing a cape, and she said his little girl had told everyone in class his dad was a superhero because there was nothing he couldn't do. That same admiration and faith is there in her eyes, even as the small naive kid slips from his fingers and turns into the woman that stands before him. He's not the devil, but the worst father in the world, and that is pretty much the same to him.

When Sarah is out of your dorm, he's trapped inside the small room with your heavy crying on the other side of the door. He looks at the small place, thinking about all the times he's sneaked inside during the night, hiding like a criminal as you wait for him behind the door full of scrapped stickers, ready to capture his lips with an eagerness that gnaws his chest.

Now it's just him and your sobs, his terrified reflection displayed in the mirror in front of your bed, mockingly staring back.

What are you doing? it questions, and Joel, always ready to answer, has suddenly lost the ability to speak.

Forcing himself out of such a pitiful state, he approaches the door, knocking softly.

"Sarah" your hoarse voice speaks up, and just then, he realizes how much he loves hearing your voice, no matter how it sounds. "Don't you have classes to go to? Leave me, please. I promise I'm good, I-"

Joel hears your distress, so he interrupts what looks like the start of a nervous rambling wreck. Huh, doesn't he know you so well?

"Sarah's gone" a beat, "It's me, Joel"

As if you wouldn't recognize that deep voice even if you were deaf.

There's silence before the door flings open, surprising Joel, who takes a step back, barely noticeable to the rest, but obvious to you, who has spent hours admiring him and all his small movements, he who you could draw by memory and built in your head as real as he who was standing before you, his eyes circling with a whirlwind of emotions you can't quite place, yet make your heart race.

Joel takes in the sight of you, deciding it's unfair how good you look, despite your disheveled hair, run mascara and red-rimmed eyes: you are still the prettiest sight he's ever seen, and now he doesn't know what scares him the most.

"You're wearing my shirt" he says out loud his latest discovery. It's all he manages to say: not an are you okay? nor an what's wrong?

No, Joel just happens to be very stupid(ly in love).

"Sarah didn't see me" you hug the fabric that makes your frame look smaller, or maybe it's your tired composture that makes it seem that way, avoiding Joel from enjoying the way his shirt looks on you. "If that's what you wanted to know. Been inside there for hours, already was when she came by"

The fact that you rather explain and assure him of his supposed possible worries instead of sharing your own, makes his stomach tie on a knot. Were you too kind or perhaps selfless? Maybe just stupid(ly in love).

Joel grunts, and you're not sure if it's his way of dissmissing your comment (maybe he thinks you're lying), chastising you in a shallow manner or the fact that you're poorly trying to avoid the elephant in the room. Maybe he thinks you're still a foolish careless child who can't comprehend the weight of whatever it is you're doing by being with your bestfriend's dad behind everyone's back.

"Tell me" he gets closer to you, fingers on your cheeks, but they don't dig the skin, instead, his roughness hiding a surprising tenderness to them. "What happened, y/n?"

The rawness in his voice takes you by surprise. Joel Miller, who seemed a man impossible to waver, now stood before you, wrapped in a gloom that left you at loss for words, something akin to hope planting it's seed on your heart.

"Tell me" he demands, yet his pupils move as unsteady as your heart. There's no power for command in his voice, only what you could allude to helplessness.

Was it because you were putting up walls like he did?

Was it because the consequences of being with you are starting to dawn upon him?

Whatever it is, you don't like it.

"What's wrong?" he's pushing for an answer softly, such a contrasting image to that of him in bed. "Please, talk to me"

Please.

The words slip past his trembling lips, defenses crumbling.

Joel Miller hasn't pleaded since Sarah's mother packed her bags and walked out of their shared home. He promised himself he would never be vulnerable again, never at the feet of a loved one, beggin to be seen.

To be heard. To not be hurt. To be loved.

But here you were, red eyes blown wide at a confession spoken through other words.

Please.

Your chest feels heavy, breath constricted.

"Joel..." you utter his name like a prayer. As something to believe in; something to hold.

He rushes to your side, strong arms caging around you as your labored cries fill the tiny room.

"S'alright" he whispers against your ear, burying his face on your shaking shoulder. "M' right'ere, doll"

Your hold turns more desperate, practically clinging as if your life depended on it.

"Take your time, y/n" your name so soft, you feel like crying more. "I ain't goin' anywhere"

"Promise me" you whimper, holding tightly.

"I won't go" he assures. There it is, the same unwavering strength you know. It's for you, he thinks.

"Joel" you call out again, tone terrified. "I think I'm pregnant"

It takes him at least a minute to speak. Even to breathe.

"...What?"

He feels your erratic pulse against his chest.

"Joel. Look at me"

He doesn't feel your heartbeat anymore. Just then he realizes he's backed down, embrace letting go of yours. Joel takes in your eyes, shimmering with new tears and fears.

"Joel?"

"I'm here" his voice sounds like it belongs to someone else, and the reminder like it's for himself.

"I know" your small voice speaks up, "but, just- please, look at me"

Joel holds your gaze, and it's like your air supply as been cut.

You don't want this.

"Are you sure?" Joel asks cautiously, as if you were a small animal he's afraid to scare.

"No" you breath in. "I bought the test, but I couldn't take it... I was, for the very first time in my life, scared. But there's always a first, isn't it? That's when Sarah found me"

There's always a first. You weren't afraid when he pounced you next to his sleeping daughter, neither when you didn't stop coming and he let you in everytime, and absolutely not when he obscenely ate you out while Sarah was on the phone. No, you were brave―brave enough to stand defiant when his conflicting gaze pierced through you, daring you to be the first to leave this mess and forget about him. But you were brave because you stayed, despite it all.

That had to mean something, right?

"You said you wouldn't leave me" it comes out in a shaky breath; a threat. Your voice seethes with a quiet rage. "You promised, Joel"

Like the word promise was a dagger twisting on his insides, not a sacred oath.

So he forces himself to be that hero Sarah still thinks he is. After all, he promised her he's going to solve this, didn't he?

"I did" he runs a hand through his hair. "Got the test with you?" You slowly nod. "Take it, then. I'll wait here"

You don't move from your spot, chest still moving uneven under your labored breaths.

"When you come out, I'll promise I'll still be here"

He can't promise you more. The world? It's what you deserve but not what he can give; Joel can only give so much.

"Okay" your tone is clipped, and that's all you say before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

The room feels smaller than it is, the small plastic stick feeling heavier in your fingers than it actually is. You hear the clock's tick, Joel's frantic pace and your own irrational beat. It feels like a bomb: ready to explode and destroy everything within it's range.

Time drags like a cigarette, walls closing over your shaking pale frame. Your phone has a timer going on, yet for some reason, it feels an end to your beginning. You hug your body, wishing it was Joel's arms doing so.

But you saw it: fear, hesitation. It was on his eyes, auburn cracking like wood under fire. He was weak, and so were you. All of this... it starts to loose it's meaning. What started as a summer fling now falls upon you like a second skin you can't quite wash off, and it's suffocating as much as the enclosed space where a stupid line could change the rest of your life forever.

Joel outside isn't doing much better. He's aware his walking probably set you on edge, so now he's sat at the small bed that dips under his weight. He takes one deep breath, two―then looses count.

How could he be so careless? For a brief moment, why did he let himself believe it could be?

For God's sake: you were his daughter's friend. He had seen you and Sarah play on his house, laughing on his porch, gossiping on her bedroom. Growing up.

He wanted you, a desire so consuming it sometimes kept him up at night, thoughts confusing with something else. Probably fear, probably acceptance.

Joel is aware you changed his life. You, with your wild spirit and obnoxious laugh. You whom he couldn't tear his gaze away when standing in the same room, a magnetic force making the world around you drawn to you and that dangerous allure you had that made it impossible to resist you. To forget you. To leave without you.

He feels dirty. A monster. A wolf with an insatiable hunger, sinking his canine teeth on your soft flesh. He'd drink your blood, to always keep a part of you with him; to be one. Like a lamb sent to the slaughter: but you wanted it. You had placed your head inside his jaw; trusting. As if knowing he could devour you, yet he'd never hurt you. Daring, almost.

Show me you can love me. Take a bite. Take me as yours. Mark me. Ruin me for anyone else. My blood, it belongs to you. This isn't a sacrifice―this is love.

When you exit the bathroom, hand holding the pregnancy test, it's all clear to him.

For a moment even, Joel forgets there's a world outside and sees a small baby: they have your smile, your eyes―and nothing of him, because you're the sun of his moon, the light of his darkness, and that baby is a mirror of you and your beauty. You and your warmth, devoid of his cold and far from where his filth can taint it. They have to look like you, because you are the most beautiful person in the world, and suddenly, the idea one more of you is possible, makes it feel like just you isn't enough.

"It's negative"

For the second time in the day, Joel is rendered speechless. His gaze is trained on the floor, lost in thought. Besides his lack of an answer, whatever he's thinking makes you nervous.

"Joel, are you okay?" you call out.

He swallows the lump on his throat, pose akward before he moves next to your bed.

"M' fine, baby. C'mere" he sits over it again, motioning with his hand the empty spot next to him. Joel's embrace is warm, like it shields you from the cold harsh truth.

"Are you upset?" you ask over the comfortable silence, the underlying tension stretching like a rubber band.

"No" his answer comes quick, "but I won't lie to ya', doll. Thought for a sec and ol' man like me could give a pretty girl like yourself a baby as beautiful as their mamma"

A treacherous pink dusts your cheeks. Had you lost all your common sense? Seconds ago, your life hung by a fragile thread, and now all your body can think is to go for the same risk again. Fuck it.

"Did you? I thought you were too busy freaking out"

Joel lets out a nervous laugh. "M' a busy man, doll. Learned how to do two things at once"

A fire settles in your stomach when his touch lingers over your soft flat belly, longing.

"Hmm, I see" your fingers move from his hold to his collarbone, as they play with the buttons he hasn't wore.

"Y/n" he warns. You stop for a moment, not because you're unsure, but because when you look up, his eyes don't shine with that glint of danger and hunger that gives you the thrills. Instead, they look at you with a fondness he doesn't seem to even realize―the one that gives you the hope of it all.

"I want this" you speak up, voice confident.

"I don't think that's a good idea, doll. What'ya need is-"

"You" your face gets close to his, cutting his words and breath. Joel's adam's apple bobs, your throbbing pussy going through a Pavlovian response, such action an indicator he's surrendered to you, mouth watering at just the thought. "You said you could do two things at the same time, right? The comfort me in the only way you know"

There's hesitation on his eyes, and while you think it's because he's still hung up on the idea this isn't what you need, Joel's mind is stuck in the fact you think he can just warm your bed but no your heart. It's stupid, indeed. It can't affect him that much. Ashamed, he cuts the space hanging between your lips and traps them in a heated kiss.

"Hmh, Joel" your voice barely audible as Joel's fingers grip on your hair, his sleazy tongue sliding it's way into your mouth until you can feel it in your teeth. "Please..."

He chuckles at your neediness. "Please, what?"

"Please" you whimper, feeling your back heat with droplets of sweat under Joel's shirt, the sticky feeling akin to that starting to pool in between your thighs. "Please, make me feel good"

Joel smiles adoringly, moving your body until your legs are up his shoulders. Sure, his knees covered by his dirty worn-out jeans are ruining your fresh laundry, and his joints may crack here and there, but you don't pay mind to this little things: all you care is how he's kissing your bare thighs, his salt and pepper stubble tickling skin that feels more sensitive than ever; burning almost.

"Gon' touch 'tis pretty pussy 'til you forget y'r name, doll" he breathes out. "Will ya' let me?"

You nod eagerly as he helps you get out of your panties, throwing them somewhere around the room. You smack his arm playfully at his rough manners, but then he's pressing his lips with wet ticklish kisses on your legs and laughter bubbles at the tingles it's causing.

"S-stop, Joel!" you beg, legs shaking. Your giggles are contagious, and soon the foreign feeling lifts the corners of his scowl into a smile, a concept becoming more familiar with time.

"I ain't stopping" his fingers then graze your clit, tauntingly. You whine, as Joel doesn't let up on your clit, his calloused digits coated in your arousal. "'Tis what you asked for, baby. So 'm gonna make you feel good. So good until you can't speak nothin' that ain't my name"

The threat feels like a delicious promise, so you tell him you'll behave.

"I wanna try somethin', doll. Wait" you whine at the loss of his fingers inside of you, and then he's moving your body until he's against the wall and you're on the border of the bed. With your eyes, you follow his line of view. "So needy, ain't ya'? Cockhungry slut. Jus' scared the shit out of me and now you want me inside?" he tsks. "Sick fella"

"Joel..." you breath out, desire pooling into your orbs.

"Wanna see you, doll" you see your reflection in the mirror as Joel lowers his head to whisper on your ear, eliciting goosebumps on your skin. "Want you to see yourself, too. How you'll be beggin' for me"

His middle and ring finger dip between your folds as he continues the minstrations, fingers pumping in and out as they graze your moist cunt. They start to go in circles, and even if it's not exactly next to your bed, you can see the mirror begin to fog, whines condensed in the heavy air.

His shirt clings uncomfortably to your body, but you don't care. In a way, he feels even closer to you, as if he was an extension of yourself.

Joel's body radiates heat on it's own, making the room's temperature skyrocket.

You lean your head back onto the mattress, moaning.

"Need ya' to use that pretty mouth of y'rs, doll. Say it" his fingers linger on the dip of your hips, waiting for an answer with a smirk and daring manner. "Say what ya' want; that's if you can"

It takes you a while to speak up, the slippery sound of Joel's coated fingers the only sound to be heard on your dorm.

"I... I need" you whine through labored pants, "I need you, Joel"

I need you, Joel. It's in the heat of the moment, really, yet on that very instant, he makes a silent vow that hangs unspoken in the air.

"Good girl" he bites your earlobe, making a chill run down your spine.

His fingers fuck into you just how you like it: swirling to explore your inner tight walls.

"Fuck. Love how your pussy takes me, doll. 'S mine, isn't it? Say it, say who this pussy belongs to. Who's the only man allowed to have it"

You close your eyes, but the answer comes clear. "You, Joel. Just you"

You whine, feeling him go harder in a new-found confidence. Your nails dig on his biceps, but he doesn't flich, still busy burying his fingers inside your clit as his mouth continues spilling filthy shit you barely can comprehend, mind starting to go numb.

Normally, Joel would make you cum on his fingers, always making sure to lick it after, claiming it was bad manners to leave to waste. But today, the clock ticking in your wall, he knows he must hurry.

"Eager, eh?" you taunt back, seeing how quickly he's pulling down his underwear, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance.

Your dripping cunt welcomes his cock, tip teasing your entrance.

"Don't" he seethes.

"Don't?" you laugh. "Don't what, laugh?"

His fingers grab your jaw tightly, forcing you to look behind you.

"Don't stop lookin', doll"

Joel slips the tip of his cock into you, his hands grabbing your waist to steady you. He looks at you through the mirror, seeing your dazed eyes, waiting as you bite your lip.

"That's it, good girl" he praises, purring against your ear. You see his face go down and lick the side of your neck before sinking his teeth in it. "Gonna reward you for'at"

Your mouth falls agape when he fully pushes his cock inside of you, burying himself to the limit in the first thrust. You moan, stretch wet pussy trying to adjust to his girth. He groans, his hips moving back and forth with yours, to meet his thrusts.

"R-right there" you whimper, feeling eyes starting to water. It had been a long day, and with his cock buried deep inside you, you can't think of anything else: just him―like this, for the rest of your life; you don't need more. "Fuck, don't stop"

His thumb rubs across your cheekbone, capturing a tear that had slipped past your foggy mind in a brittle moment of vulnerability, brown eyes flickering with something else. It could be.

We could be.

"Fuck, you cryin' over this cock, doll? What'a fuckin' slut" he laughs incredulously, but there's a hidden fondness to it. "S' that how good 'm makin' you feel?"

You can only moan, his dick harder now, his infatuation with your fucked-out state evident in the way his movements become more hectic.

"Can't even speak? What'a dirty minx inside 'tis sexy little body"

"Mhm" you blabber, tears running hot down your cheeks, landing on the mattress in fat droplets, noticeable through the reflection even. Joel stares back at your puffy eyes, devotion pouring at your glossy gaze, coated in a faint red tint, more pronounced from your earlier cries. Fuck. Never did he think your lambent eyes and sniffle sounds could turn him on this much. Something about him being the cause of it has his head spinning.

"New rule" he growls, "you keep those pretty red eyes lookin' at me when you cum"

You whimper at his words, the powerful aura they carry pushing your orgasm closer to the edge. You feel your tight folds clenching around his cock, hands holding to his back while your nails dig in it. You feel yourself approaching your release, multiple tears escaping down your cheekbone. In an obscene gesture, it isn't his thumb but his tongue what removes the wet stream from your body, feeling the salty drops on his tastebuds.

You were already so worked up, it was a matter of seconds before you could cum at any moment. Your walls clench around his length, and before you can process, Joel pulls your body up, caging your tits until they're pressed against his soft chest. You face the white paint of your wall, and Joel can see your back in the mirror as he's still buried inside of you. You gasp at the change in position, all of the sudden, a painfull delicious sensation flooding your senses.

"You're gonna cum, aren't ya', doll?" Joel's asking, hot breath nestled in your neck.

"Hmh" you barely manage to blurt as he fucks into you harder, your arms clutching onto him. You were being so loud now that you were sure you'd get at least one noise complain, hoping it stays there; if they found out not only had you been fucking, but with a fourty year old man who happpened to be the father of your bestfriend, you'd probably get expelled. "So close..."

"You know?" he whispers, voice fragile over the sound of your pants and worked up breaths. "I was scared, ealier. M' sorry you had to see that" your body trembles, making you close your eyes. "But I need ya' to know, for'a moment, I did think about having a kid with you"

Your forehead drips with sweat, mixing with the sodium of your tears.

"Maybe in 'nother life, huh?"

Your heart feels like it's about to burst when he sloppily kisses you, as to prevent any words come out of your mouth―humilliating or full of regret, avoiding the heart ache of a rejection. Joel, for a moment, lets his heart wander off to territories he shouldn't, thinking of things he should leave to be. Joel digs his hole deeper, but he doesn't care: he just wants to be the best grave in your cementery.

"Maybe" you answer, but it sounds like a possibility, the promise of a foolish mind betraying the guarded hidden hope.

"Fuck, Joel" you bury your face against his soft pecs, your orgasm crashing over you. Your whine comes our rather loud, trying to drown the sound against his body. He doesn't stop holding you on his arms, firm; you'd probably fallen if he didn't.

"Wait for me, doll. 'M close"

"Please" you plead, kissing his jaw. "Need you. Want to feel you, Joel"

Not daddy, but his name. I want you. I need you. Want to feel you; for you to fill me. He groans, rhythm sloppy as he crashes his lips into yours. he should stop, especially after today's events, but God, his traitorous head is filled with images of you, belly round with his child, one carved to be the spitting image of you.

Do it.

You moan inside his mouth when you feel him finish inside of you, thick, your fingers running through his dark greying hair damp with sweat.

"M' right here" he says his words from earlier, and you feel yourself hugging him to keep his body next to yours even as he pulls out.

"I know" you hum, arms around his neck. "Thank you for coming"

"What of both?"

You let out a laugh.

"Jesus, Joel" but your tone is devoid of malice, adquiring that layer to it, just like his own. There's a shift in the air, and if you felt it before, now you know there's no point of return. "You sure are something else"

dts: @ann-gell; angél de mi corazón, tkm mucho, gracias por llegar a mi vida, ah.

[star-suh]

Helping Hands

Ateez ot8 x Male Reader

—

san loves his boyfriend yn so much that he wishes he can get pregnant and will do anything possible to get it, every time his big cock enters yn's tight hole he prays that his seed impregnates him. “san silly stop that, you know i can't get pregnant” yn caresses his cheek, “maybe i just need to try a little bit more” san and yn's foreheads touched while he keeps on pummeling yn, “or maybe i could use some help”. the door of their dorm opens, one by one of san's friends enter massaging their clothed bulges. “san what's this” yn's heart beating fast and loud that it looks that it would burst out of his chest, “maybe with enough cum you'll finally get pregnant”.

the rest of his friends discarded their clothes, dicks springing around free, growing and getting hard watching the scene unfolding in front of them, yn squirming under san –flustered and shy– covering his face, “don't worry pretty, you're gonna feel soo good”...

yn's hole gripped on san's dick like he doesn't want it to let it go, his moans muffled by seonghwas's dick, his hands occupied with jongho and yeosang and the rest strokes their dicks and share some kisses between them.

“isn't he a pretty cocksucker?” seonghwa grunts, pulling out to let wooyoung use his mouth too, “right and a skilled one too. you trained him good san” wooyoung said.

seonghwa stands near jongho –putting his dick near jongho’s– “stroke it” seonghwa demanded and yn complied, the action wetting jongho's manhood too with the remaining saliva on the taller's dick. the action was repeated again but this time with woo's wet dick near yeosang's.

junho was now mouthfucking yn, his big dick forming a bulge on yn's neck due to the forced deepthroats. san pulls out and quickly yeosang takes the charge of fucking him, his already used lubed hole engulfing his meat without any problem. “such a good toy you got san” hongjoong patted san's shoulder while stroking his dick with the other hand, “yeah, that’s why i need to get him pregnant”, hongjoong laughed at san's idea, it's silly but cute.

it was mingi and hongjoong's turn now, mingi stroke his dick a few times to then ramming it with no mercy on yn's hole, his tip scrapping his walls so good that he squirms and moans but just in time hongjoong's mouthfucks him, said moans reverberating on his cock making him feel so much pleasure. wooyoung watching how yn's dick is being neglected decides to straddle him and ride it “you might not be the only one coming out full tonight” he rock his hips with a fast pace, making the bed creak and by consequence made yn fuck himself into mingi and hongjoong's dicks, his moving body going up and down on the rappers’ dicks.

mingi sat on the bed with yn still riding his dick, “come on hongjoong, there's room for one more” he taps at yn's hole, “he's been eating a lot of meat today let’s give him a little more”, inch by inch hongjoong's dick entered, yn's hole engulfing it completely “man, what a whore” he blurted out. “ok mingi lay down” wooyoung once again wanting to fuck himself into yn, “if we're gonna use him as a toy might as well use all of it” he leaned on top of mingi –his back facing him– and guide yn's pole towards his hole, “fuck yeah, open me up”, mingi was unable to move at all because now he has wooyoung's weight on top of him, but still he was feeling like in paradise. yn tight walls hugging his dick so tightly while hongjoong's rubbed itself against his fuck! what a feeling.

“okay boys that's enough or you'll cum now” they nodded, pulling out their dicks and the other hopping off of yn's. “do you think he can take it more?” jongho asks yeosang while spreading yn's cheeks, “yeah i think so” the other replies. yn's ass bounced up and down two pair of cocks sticked together, he went up and sat all the way down their shafts –balls deep– both males grunting in pleasure, “how can he be so good at this?” jongho says, panting, “is like he was born for this, to take cocks” yeosang said. “i want moo~” completely fucked dumb at this point all that was crossing yn's mind was dicks, dick and more dicks so it was the group's obligation to give him what he wanted. he was still being plowed by both yeosang and jongho when san and wooyoung stand in his sides “open up baby” san demanded, both cocks made their way into yn's mouth, when one enter the other goes out and vice versa or yn just stick his tongue out and they slid their cocks in there until it's all slobbery, dripping wet.

the group kept on railing yn into oblivion, taking turns to dp him, everyone wanted to feel that pleasure of rubbing cocks together while being inside yn. that sensation felt like a drug to them, they could spend all day doing that and not get tired of it. “fuck i almost came” seonghwa pulls out inmediately with a pop followed by junho's. “san i think it's enough edging for us, i won't last much” wooyoung complains, “you're right let's get him pregnant then”. yn was in the bed face down ass up, his legs spreading so they all can have a good look at his abused hole, dripping with their bodily fluids. first was jongho, he decide to stroke his cock and shoot his load inside him, “god this was such a good fuck” he slaps yn's ass and went out of the room to get himself cleaned. next in line was junho, he did the same as jongho, he shot it on top of his hole then scooped it with his dick tip and pushed it inside, “open up, we don't wanna waste a drop, aren't we?” he winked at yn making him blush and moan. yeosang rubbed his dick in between yn's cheeks, the friction prompting him to cum very soon, as soon as he felt his orgasm coming he thrusted inside yn and kissed him, biting his lower lip in the process, “good boy”.

wooyoung sat on yn's face, who was now laying on his back, wrapping his arms around his waist to keep his ass up, “suck it like you mean it” he demanded yn to do while stroking his dick. while this happened mingi and hongjoong positioned themselves around yn's abused hole, stroking each other's dicks, “you should lends us this pretty too again san” mingi groaned, “i say the same” hongjoong supported the idea, “let me think about it” san replied. ropes if cum came from the rappers’ dicks, “sorry i'm a shooter” mingi said when his cum landed everywhere but yn's hole –including wooyoung's face– “i'll make it up yo you ynnie” the man said, using his tongue to scoop all the cum he could to then spit it inside yn, “damn man that was hot” wooyoung spoke, his dick leaking and ready to burst, “fuck!” he exclaims, putting only his tip inside to squirt all the thick liquid inside, “fuuhhh~” he pants “need more of this” he murmurs before leaving the room.

the last one on the room were now seonghwa and san, “your turn man” san prompts seonghwa to empty his balls inside yn, “let's see if you can hold this fat load i have in store for you”, “fat load?” yn asks, curious, “how much?” san asks to which seonghwa responds “a week worth of cum” his veiny dick pummeling into the splooge smeared insides until he finally explodes, his cock throbbing inside with each pumping making yn roll back his eyes, “such a pleasure yn” seonghwa caresses his cheek and kisses his forehead –waving a goodbye.

“so much cum, you're finally getting pregnant” san fucks yn wildly in a mating press position, the room echoed with skin on skin sounds mixed with yn's pleas and whimpers. his body squirming due to the overstimulation, making him cum undone, "need to churn all this milk inside you and then add mine to the mix”. san's dick went in and out, covered in foamy bubbly cum not realizing how some of it was leaking due to his beastly thrusts. “get ready for it yn” with a few more thrusts, he slid his arms under yn to hug him while his cock throbbed, spurting loads and loads of sperm. san pulls out and realizes how much of it was leaking into the mattress but then recalling what mingi did he did the same, his tongue collecting every drop of it, opening his hole with his fingers and spitting inside it all of it, kissing gently the puckered hole, “this was amazing, you were a good cumdump and i'm gonna be a dad soon”, san showered yn with kisses and caresses. “san.. for the gazillion time i can't get pregnant”. san shushes him, “shush you're still dumb for all that cock and sperm, let's shower” san carries him towards the bathroom, still coating him in kisses.

[cuntyji]

COFFEE BREATH ౨ৎ RYOMEN SUKUNA X READER

synopsis: sukuna wasn’t the type to get caught up in things, but you stuck with him. slowly, without either of you trying, he let you in. but love isn’t always enough.

content warnings: gender neutral reader, sfw [light angst], barista/coffee shop au, he fell first he fell harder, ambigious ending [no part two].

author's note: i was thinking of @chososcamgirl as i wrote this....also please listen to "coffee breath" by sofia mills when you read :)

READ ON AO3

you had him at “fuck.”

not in the poetic, love-at-first-sight way. no, sukuna was halfway through a mind-numbing shift, barely holding onto his patience, and the last thing he expected was to look up from the register and see you—frowning at the menu board like it had personally wronged you, muttering expletives under your breath. it wasn’t loud, wasn’t dramatic. just a quiet, defeated, “fuck.”

he almost snorted. almost.

instead, he watched. watched as you shifted on your feet, clearly overwhelmed by the obscene number of drink choices. his coworkers would’ve jumped at the opportunity—flirted, recommended something ridiculous just to keep you talking, maybe even snuck their number onto your cup with a little smiley face. but sukuna just cleared his throat, and when you looked up at him—eyes wide, startled—he pointed at the menu behind him.

“matcha latte,” he said.

you blinked. “huh?”

“you’ll like it.”

you tilted your head, considering. then, to his surprise, you smiled—not the practiced kind, not the polite, obligatory kind he was used to, but something warm. something real. the kind that made the corners of his own mouth twitch in response.

“sure,” you said, nodding. “i’ll take that.”

he rang it up, and you paid, and that was that. but when you picked up the drink, you took a sip, paused, and then—still looking at him—gave him a tiny thumbs-up. he exhaled through his nose. something like amusement, something like satisfaction curling low in his chest. 

as you left, you waved. just a small thing, a flick of your fingers. and he—against all odds—nodded back. his coworkers would’ve scribbled their numbers on the cup. added a dumb little heart, a wink, something. sukuna didn’t.

you’d come back. he knew that.

you did come back, although weeks later.

sukuna noticed the moment you stepped in—hair a little longer, the dark circles under your eyes faded just a bit. you looked… better. less exhausted, more alive. and when you met his gaze, you smiled. not a polite customer-service smile. not a fleeting, meaningless one. a knowing smile. his hands moved before his brain caught up, punching in an order for a matcha latte without waiting for you to ask.

“so that’s just my drink now?”

he barely glanced up. “yeah.”

you didn’t object. just handed over the cash, fingers brushing his when he passed back the change. last time, you left right after picking up your drink. this time, you sat down. close—one of the tables near the register, where he could see you, where you could see him.

sukuna wasn’t the type to get distracted at work, but he found himself hyper-aware of you. the way you stirred your drink lazily, eyes flicking up to him every now and then. the way you’d tilt your head slightly when listening to something on your phone, lips parted like you were about to laugh. the way, when you did laugh, it was quiet but real.

sometimes he’d catch you looking at him, and when you did, you’d glance away quickly, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t. like you were embarrassed. your cheeks would warm, and that would make something twist in his stomach. 

sometimes, when you weren’t looking at him, he’d look at you.

sukuna interacted with a lot of customers every day. hundreds, maybe. faces that blurred together, voices that didn’t matter. but you? you made his heart race. 

it was silly. kinda.

it took him a week to ask you out on a date.

not because he was unsure—he knew he wanted to, had known since the second time you walked through those doors—but because sukuna wasn’t used to this. the push and pull, the glances that lasted a second too long, the way his stomach tightened just slightly when you smiled at him.

so you made it easier.

you slipped him a note with your number, pressed between the cash you handed him for your matcha latte. he didn’t react right away—just gave you your change, slid the receipt across the counter, business as usual. but when you met his eyes, both of you knew.

message received.

he did call you. waited until his shift was over, sat on the edge of his bed, and stared at your number for a good thirty seconds before pressing dial. he knew everything and nothing about you at the same time. your name, your drink order, the way you tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear absentmindedly. he knew you stored your cash in a slightly worn-out wallet—something your mom gave you in high school, something you never replaced. he knew you had a habit of people-watching, sometimes with the smallest smile, like you were in on a joke no one else could hear.

maybe knowing all of this and nothing at all was enough.

you met up after his shift. it was late, the streets quieter, lights from passing cars casting long shadows. you could’ve made an excuse to leave early, could’ve let the conversation fizzle out—but you didn’t. you stayed. asked him about his hobbies, his interests, things he hadn’t thought about in years. and somehow, sukuna found himself answering. it was strange, how easy it was with you. how you unearthed pieces of him he’d long buried beneath work and responsibility.

he found himself smiling more—real smiles, the kind that softened the sharp edges of his face, made the corners of his eyes crinkle just slightly. that was sukuna with you. and you didn’t even have to try.

that’s when sukuna realized he loved you.

he didn’t mean to. love wasn’t something he planned for, wasn’t something he thought would slip into his life so quietly, so easily. but one moment, he was just spending time with you, and the next, the realization settled in his chest like it had always been there, waiting for him to notice.

would he ever tell you?

he prepared for a week. rehearsed it in his head, thought about when and how, tried to find the right moment. but then he saw you—face bright, eyes warm, greeting him like he was something to look forward to—and just like that, all his confidence drained out of him. so instead, he made you an extra matcha on the house. handed it to you after his shift, avoiding eye contact.

you grinned. “is this a bribe?”

“shut up,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

you only laughed, taking a sip. you knew by now—sukuna wasn’t a man of words. he was a man of actions, of small gestures. you liked that about him.

you also noticed he’d trimmed his hair a bit today. “looks good,” you said offhandedly, but the way his neck flushed at the compliment made you smile against your cup.

you liked that about him too.

as the two of you walked through the quiet streets, the sky darkened, heavy with clouds. the first few drops of rain hit the pavement, and before you could react, the sky cracked open, rain pouring down in thick sheets. you ran for cover, ducking into the nearest open doorway. a hotel. sukuna hoped you didn’t get the wrong idea.

you didn’t.

you stepped inside, shook the rain from your sleeves, and glanced at him. “we should probably get a room, huh?” he nodded, wordless, following your lead. inside, you both changed into the bathrobes provided, drying off from the rain. sukuna thought maybe—maybe—he’d confess then.

instead, he kissed you.

and you let him.

and then your back hit the bed, and when you looked up at him like he was something precious, something worth giving the world to—he chickened out. again.

but you didn’t let him go. 

you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his, and pulled him down beside you.

you just talked.

about your high school years. about sukuna’s everyday life. about his half-brother, choso, who passed away. sukuna wasn’t used to talking like this, wasn’t used to opening up—but with you, it felt easy. like breathing.

at some point, your words grew quieter, sleep creeping in. neither of you let go. you fell asleep holding hands.

that was the last time sukuna met you.

he woke up to the warmth of your hand still in his, your breathing soft, steady. for a moment, he didn’t move. just stayed there, staring at the ceiling, letting himself exist in this fragile little bubble where you were beside him, where the night hadn’t ended yet. but eventually, reality called. he carefully slipped his hand from yours, stood up, and made his way to the washroom.

that’s when he saw it—your phone screen lighting up with a new text. an unknown number. another barista.

his chest tightened.

he had no right to be upset. no reason to feel the way he did. but it didn’t stop the weight in his stomach, the dull ache blooming in his ribs.

he knew then—he’d keep loving you, even if it hurt.

so the days went on, and sukuna kept working. he didn’t expect you to come back. didn’t expect another knowing smile, another quiet moment shared across the register. but still, his eyes would flicker toward the door sometimes. just in case. one evening, after his shift, he sat alone by the counter with a matcha latte. he didn’t usually drink them himself, but today, he did.

and as he took a sip, he found himself hoping—wherever you were, whoever you were with—you had one too. underneath the same sky.

[satinchicz]

BURNOUT

musician!Se-mi x fem!reader

TW: smoking

The ballpoint pen went flying against the wall, Se-mi groaned in annoyance before letting her back fall against the chair…she’d been trying to write music lyrics for practically the entire day, yet it seems the muses had started a riot against her because everytime her eyes glanced at the blank piece of paper her brain turned into red jelly.

Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for this

But if not this then what else? Music was her life- well you were her life too but that was different, the bin by her desk was practically overflowing with torn pages by now, god why wasn’t anything coming to her?!

Today- when she decided to dedicate the day to her lyricism, of course everything had to go to shit. Se-mi got up from the chair, her movements lazy, like her muscles were glued together creating a sticky uncomfortable feeling. Looking out the window in the kitchen she sighed once again, before reaching for a half empty box of Marlboro cigarettes, opting to relax a tiny bit with the tobacco instead of having another tantrum that included abusing her poor pen.

She watched the smoke moving as elegantly as a dancer, from her mouth to outside the window…mingling with the purple-y setting skyline.

Just then the sound of the front door being opened echoed through the flat, the very familiar harmony of your silly key chains ringing through her ears, Se-mi put out the cigarette before heading to seek you out, your bodies meeting right in the kitchen doorway, she smiled as she saw you- finally one good thing about her day.

“Hey, sweetheart” the brunette purred against your lips, you chuckled at the affection, your lips finally meeting in a sweet home-welcoming kiss.

“Hey, I missed you” you replied, before placing your bag down on the kitchen table. “Long day…god I’m so tired” to further showcase your fatigue you playfully fanned yourself with your hand…Se-mi chuckled, a very quite sound, before she sat down on the other chair. You could see something was bothering her, Se-mi your oh so energetic girlfriend that loved to joke around was suddenly like a snail hidden inside it’s shell.

“Se-mi?” You leaned in closer, your eyes going to her face, clear worry evident in your tone “Is everything alright?”

She glanced at you, before moving her gaze onto her hands, it was no use to lie, maybe a little confession about her feelings would help her feel more at ease.

“It’s just- these goddamn lyrics…” Se-mi started “I’ve been trying to write all day, but everytime I try and think of at least ONE line then it’s like I forgot how to write!”

And so she kept on going, by the time she finished sharing her failed attempts she felt more lighter, physically and emotionally. Maybe a minute of silence stretched out before the two of you, like some indicator getting rid of all the negative energy Se-mi had just thrown out of herself. “Se-mi…you know it’s fine to have days like this? I mean, I know how frustrating it is, but some burnout isn’t bad for you, you write amazing, beautiful, fucking soul haunting lyrics…I think you just have to let your mind rest a little” you assured your girlfriend, who was now looking you straight in the eyes, “I guess you’re right…thanks babe” Se-mi smiled lethargically.

“How about we cuddle? Let me just change out of these clothes, I must reek of office grime” you grinned, “Yeah…I’ll be waiting for ya” she agreed before moving into the living room.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” The brunette looked up at you as you began to speak, she was contentedly laying atop you, your arms wrapped around her waist, ah yes- you were talking about the sunset…it was beautiful, she loved all the gradient hues but as of now she wasn’t interested in looking out the window, her gaze stuck on you, “You’re more beautiful” the girl murmured against your neck, you giggled “That’s so cheesy…don’t stop”, a light kiss was pressed onto your skin, then another one, and another and another and another…the intensity growing with each one, “I won’t stop, I don’t even want to do don’t worry about that!” she smiled and you ruffled her hair

“I love you, you dummy.”

[almostfoxglove]

SOUNDS DANGEROUS

📧 a max phillips one shot for @jolapeno's dearuary challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 2.6k PAIRING: Max Phillips x f!Reader PROMPT: A long-distance relationship blossoms through emails, but the tension of being apart grows. CW: This is pretty goofy, a tiny bit sort of almost angsty, but mostly just silly. Reader uses a fake name.

SUMMARY: When you reply to a bizarre craigslist ad, a stranger on the other side of the country charms his way into your life.

read on ao3 | main masterlist | get notifs @foxglovenotifs

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Tue, Oct 2, 2014 at 9:39 AM To: <mp-1260-sdkss9200043239921@sale.craigslist.org> Subject: Re: Craigslist Ad

Hello! Hoping to work out if you’re a weirdo or if the ad you posted here is serious. I could use the money, but would like to pass on being murdered in some random basement or finding out the hard way that this is code for some weird sex thing. 

Let me know!

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Tue, Oct 2, 2014 at 3:21 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Re: Craigslist Ad

Dawn,

Thanks for reaching out. I can assure you the ad is very serious—unfortunately it is not “some weird sex thing” (sounds a little judgy, if you ask me), and my basement happens to be full up at the moment. And on the other side of the country, if that’s any comfort.

I need the package shipped ASAP. Looking for serious applicants only. Payment will be transferred when tracking information has been shared. Can you confirm you’re interested and available this week? Tomorrow would be best. 

Max Phillips Sales Manager - BB Corporate Salesman of the Year Award Recipient 2010, 2011, 2012, and 2013

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Tue, Oct 2, 2014 at 5:10 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Craigslist Ad

Hi,

Cool. Tomorrow’s fine with me, I’ve got an appointment in the afternoon but if it’s not too far by bike I can grab the package and mail it in the morning first thing. Can you share the address?

Just a heads up—I will be sending it to my roommate so she can, you know, follow up if I don’t make it home. Your email and ad too. I took screenshots. And I carry mace. For the record.

Dawn

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Tue, Oct 2, 2014 at 7:01 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Re: Craigslist Ad [Sent with 1 attachment]

Dawn,

Sorry, got held up in a meeting. 

Share whatever information you need to. Smart girl with the mace, though it won’t be necessary. Still, bring it along! Always best to be cautious. However, I am concerned about your “bike.” Surely a car would be much more efficient. The pickup location is a little outside of the hustle and bustle, if you will. It’s very important I receive the package on time.

Perhaps you could scrounge up a more reliable vehicle for the morning? 

I’m attaching the address of the pickup location here. Please send confirmation.

Max Phillips Sales Manager - BB Corporate Salesman of the Year Award Recipient 2010, 2011, 2012, and 2013

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Tue, Oct 2, 2014 at 7:16 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Craigslist Ad

A meeting? If you’re on the other side of the country, isn’t it like… 10PM where you are??

Also, my bike’s just fine, thanks. I can leave early and make it work. Wait - how do I know you’re actually gonna pay me? I feel like I should get half up front as a symbol of, I don’t know, good faith or whatever. 

Yeah, actually. I’m gonna need half now. My paypal uses this email address.

Best to be cautious, right?

From: PayPal <service@paypal.com> Date: Tue, Oct 2, 2014 at 7:25 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: You’ve got money

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Tue, Oct 2, 2014 at 7:27 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Re: Craigslist Ad

You haven’t heard? No rest for the wicked, honey.

Send tracking info when you have it, and I’ll send over the rest. Don’t make me regret it! Oh—I should mention, it’s very important you do not open the package. It’ll be wrapped and addressed, so you just need to pedal it over and make the drop, got it? You can ask for Victor when you pick it up, he’ll be expecting you.

Also, have you ever considered working in sales? I’m always hiring.

Max Phillips Sales Manager - BB Corporate Salesman of the Year Award Recipient 2010, 2011, 2012, and 2013

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Wed, Oct 3, 2014 at 10:04 AM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Sent your weird box [Sent with 1 attachment]

Max,

You’re lucky I’m strapped for cash. Maybe I should’ve backed out when you insisted I not open the package (super suspicious, by the way!), but I went ahead and cycled 27 miles to, oh, what’s that? A FUCKING CEMETERY.

No, I didn’t open your stupid box, but it was fucking heavy. If I’ve just mailed you someone’s head, I swear to god I’ll find your ass and take yours as reparations. Also, the guy was a total creep. Victor? Whatever. Not gropey, but like, I think I’ll sleep worse knowing I live in the same city as the fucking crypt keeper. So thanks for that!

Here’s your tracking info. I’d like the rest of the money now. 

Dawn

From: PayPal <service@paypal.com> Date: Wed, Oct 3, 2014 at 3:08 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: You’ve got money

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Wed, Oct 3, 2014 at 3:10 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Sent your weird box

Believe it or not, Victor looks pretty good for his age.

Thanks for doing business!

Max Phillips Sales Manager - BB Corporate Salesman of the Year Award Recipient 2010, 2011, 2012, and 2013

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Wed, Oct 3, 2015 at 6:20 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Request

Dawn, honey!

What are the odds I might be able to talk you into running a little package to the post office for me again?

Same payment stands.

Max Phillips Sales Manager - BB Corporate Salesman of the Year Award Recipient 2010, 2011, 2012, and 2013

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Wed, Oct 3, 2016 at 7:22 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Anniversary

Hey, you know what today is?

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Wed, Oct 3, 2016 at 7:53 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Anniversary

Hmmm… let me think. Two years since you swindled me into cycling in the pouring rain to meet the scariest man I’ve ever seen in my life? If you’re trying to build suspense, you really shouldn’t put the answer in the subject line. Just saying!

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Wed, Oct 3, 2016 at 7:57 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Anniversary

I’ll pass on the snark, princess. Two years!

But let’s not count our ducks too soon. Victor’s only the scariest man you’ve ever seen in your life so far. Still plenty of time for me to claim the title when you set eyes on me.

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Wed, Oct 3, 2016 at 8:21 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Anniversary

You know, you talk a big game for a man who won’t send me a photograph of himself. For all I know you could be gorgeous. Or extremely average. Completely forgettable.

Anyway. Guessing you need another shipment. I’ve got a couple days off this week and can go pick it up. Also, do I get a gift for two years of loyalty? Feel like I oughta get a commemorative mug or something.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Wed, Oct 3, 2016 at 8:30 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Anniversary

It’s for your own good, sweetheart. One photo of me and our professional relationship would go up in flames. Would hate to mess up a good thing.

Re: Gift—I will not be making you a commemorative mug. You know how many of those corporate sends out? Garbage, all of them. Got anything better in mind? A little more exciting?

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Wed, Oct 3, 2016 at 8:34 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Anniversary

I wanna know what I ship you every year. Please know that if it turns out to be someone’s head or any other body part, my promise to cut yours off as payback still stands. 

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Wed, Oct 3, 2016 at 8:48 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Anniversary

You wound me, Dawn. Such little faith, but alright. I’ll bite.

When you pick up the package this week, you can open it up. But no fucking with the shipping label, yeah? And no spilling anything. Be gentle.

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Fri, Oct 5, 2016 at 11:02 AM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Anniversary

I’ve been mailing you a box of DIRT once a year this whole time??? Jesus fucking christ, Max. Do I wanna know??

Forget it. I probably don’t. I’m just glad it wasn’t a head.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Fri, Oct 5, 2016 at 3:53 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Anniversary

It’s just a little something from home! Helps me sleep. Harmless, no?

Real shame, this whole across the country thing. Would kill to have seen the look on your face when you popped that sucker open.

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Fri, Oct 5, 2016 at 4:49 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Anniversary

Okay, that’s fucking weird, Max. I have, like, so many more questions. What are you doing with it that you need more once a year???

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Fri, Oct 5, 2016 at 5:11 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Anniversary

I need more when I move apartments, obviously. Not going to vacuum it up and shake it out of the little bag. Would be filthy—and not the fun kind.

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Fri, Oct 5, 2016 at 5:30 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Anniversary

Wait, you move apartments every year? No wonder you use a PO Box.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Fri, Oct 5, 2016 at 7:24 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Anniversary

Company policy. They send me in, I whip a branch into winning shape, then move right along. Gotta let the kids make their own kills eventually!

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Mon, Jun 8, 2017 at 12:15 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Call

Hey, I thought about it some more and I guess I’ve decided that if you were going to stalk and murder me you would’ve done it by now (or you’re playing like… the world’s most boring long game), and it might be nice to put a voice to the name. Maybe you have a cool accent? 

Anyway, here’s my phone number I guess?

This feels so awkward for no reason.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Wed, Jun 10, 2017 at 11:29 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Call

I’ll call when I wrap up on Friday. Should be between meetings at 6 your time!

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Thu, Jun 11, 2017 at 8:00 AM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Call

You’re totally going to make me regret giving you my phone number, aren’t you?

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Thu, Jun 11, 2017 at 6:02 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Call

Sorry, sweetheart. No going back now.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Sun, Nov 9, 2017 at 3:48 AM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: [No Subject]

Dawn,, ,

aRe you asleep? You better be aslepe. But if youre awake, call me. I like your voice,

Think this guy was rpetty drunk. Maybe high. Tha’ts my bad. HOpe my autocorrect is saving this but I mean it if you’re awake I wanna hear your voice, Okay? 

Your, s Max

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Sun, Nov 9, 2017 at 9:10 AM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: [No Subject]

You know, I don’t think I’ve ever received a drunk email before. It’s much better than a drunk phone call - these screenshots will live forever.

Anyway, I’m guessing you’re asleep right now (you better be) but you’re probably gonna feel like shit whenever you get up. I nonetheless expect a full report on my desk of all your debauchery tomorrow. Your coworkers seem rowdy as hell. I don’t know how you get anything done.

Happy headache!

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Sun, Nov 9, 2017 at 6:04 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: [No Subject]

Sorry, honey. Tales of my debauchery are far too scandalous to be immortalized in writing. All disclosures must be done in person, off record, so you’re shit out of luck—serves you right for your little screenshots. So mean.

I won’t forget this.

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Sun, Nov 9, 2017 at 6:23 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: [No Subject]

You can pout all you like, Maxwell. You like the sound of my voice and I’ve got cold hard proof. Can’t take it back now!

Okay, but really, that’s gotta be the best email I’ve ever received (you’re competing against newsletters I don’t remember signing up for and updates from my cousins about their ten thousand offspring, but still, the title stands). 

And you’ve got a pretty nice voice too, I guess. I can see how you swindle all those unsuspecting civilians into forking over their life savings!

Got plans tonight, but I could call tomorrow if you wanted. You can keep me company while I, gasp!, fold some laundry. Pretty exciting stuff for a Monday, I know. 

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Sun, Nov 9, 2017 at 7:10 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: [No Subject]

Evening plans? Don’t tell me you’ve got a date, sweetheart. Might break my heart.

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Mon, Nov 10, 2017 at 10:27 AM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: [No Subject]

Har, har. I do have a life, you know, that doesn’t include being your dirt-runner once a year. Shipper? Smuggler? I kind of like smuggler. Sounds dangerous.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Mon, Nov 10, 2017 at 5:53 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: [No Subject]

I’d like to think you know you’re more than a “dirt smuggler” to me. Aren’t we friends? Three years isn’t nothing, you know. I don’t keep just anyone around.

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Mon, Nov 10, 2017 at 7:42 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: [No Subject]

Jesus, Max. You make it sound like I should be fucking thanking you for talking to me. That feels pretty shitty. 

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Mon, Nov 10, 2017 at 7:47 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Ugh ignore my last email, sorry

Sorry. My night was shit but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I know you were joking. If you still want to call, I wouldn’t mind hearing your voice. And I really do have laundry to fold. I could use someone barking at me to do it.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Mon, Nov 10, 2017 at 11:08 PM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Ugh ignore my last email, sorry

I meant what I said, honey. That guy has no idea how bad he’s missing out, and I’d be happy to pay him a little visit on your behalf. You’d be surprised how intimidating I can be, when the need arises. Very scary.

Don’t be shy, hm? Always happy to boss someone around.

Sleep tight.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Sat, May 2, 2018 at 2:22 AM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Delivery

Thought it was about time I send you a little mail—should be arriving shortly.

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Sat, May 2, 2018 at 7:41 AM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Delivery [Sent with 1 attachment]

Hey… is this for real?

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Sat, May 2, 2018 at 7:56 AM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Delivery

I don’t joke about airfare, honey. Ticket’s real and all yours—we’re long overdue for a little meet-up, don’t you think? Wanna see my smuggler’s pretty face in the flesh.

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Sat, May 2, 2018 at 9:12 AM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Delivery

I’m picturing you in your late 60s, with a beer belly, comb-over, and black teeth. Am I close? Wait - don’t tell me. I want it to be a horrible, hideous surprise.

Thanks, by the way. I don’t really know what to say. 

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Sat, May 2, 2018 at 9:30 AM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Delivery

I’ll try not to let you down at the big reveal. 

Happy birthday. 

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Sat, May 2, 2018 at 10:09 AM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Delivery

By the way… is this a good time to break it to you that my name isn’t actually Dawn?

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Sat, May 2, 2018 at 10:10 AM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Delivery

EXCUSE ME???

From: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Date: Sat, May 2, 2018 at 10:17 AM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Delivery

You were a stranger on craigslist!! This is a burner email so I don’t get stalked and chopped up into little pieces when I reply to sketchy ads. I didn’t know we’d end up friends. I never knew how to slip that in casually. My bad. 

But you can’t be mad at me on my birthday. So don’t be mad.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Sat, May 2, 2018 at 10:18 AM To: Dawn <givemethewiggins@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Delivery

My world is shattered. You’re killing me, baby. 

I want your real email, please. And name.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Sun, Jul 22, 2018 at 5:41 PM To: You Subject: Visit

Hi. Just got word a company-wide conference has been moved up to next week. Mandatory attendance, blah blah blah. Boring. Turns out they can’t have the boss of the highest earning branch playing hooky. Boo :-( 

Can we move your flights to next month? Want to give you my undivided attention—promise I’ll make it up to you.

From: You Date: Sun, Jul 22, 2018 at 5:43 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Visit

Wait, for real? My flight’s in like… 5 days. I booked the time off work two months ago. 

I don’t mind if you’ve got work stuff while I’m there! Sorta figured you’d be working at least part of the time I’m in town - I’m happy to entertain myself. We can just hang out whenever you’re done.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Sun, Jul 22, 2018 at 5:50 PM To: You Subject: Re: Visit

Afraid these conferences tend to run a little… late into the night, and daylight hours aren’t exactly my specialty. Sort of a night owl. 

Would hate for you to come all this way and not get to enjoy you. Don’t want any interruptions.

Next month?

From: You Date: Sun, Jul 22, 2018 at 9:21 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Visit

Right.

I’ll have to check if I can move things. Can I let you know?

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Mon, Aug 15, 2018 at 4:11 AM To: You Subject: Call?

Can I call you this week? Hate that you’re mad at me. I’m sorry about our visit, baby. Just talk to me. What about next month, could you come then? Is your sister still in town? You could still come now, before end of quarter ramps up!

From: You Date: Wed, Aug 17, 2018 at 11:24 AM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Call?

I told you I wasn’t able to get my vacation time back. If you want to see me so badly, maybe you should fly here. It really sucked when you blew me off.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Wed, Aug 17, 2018 at 7:51 PM To: You Subject: Re: Call?

Travel doesn’t agree with me. Too much sunlight. It’s complicated. Plus I wanna show you my place. It’s very swanky, you know. Has a huge tub. You’d love it. And I’ll get you all your favorite snacks, hm? Won’t have to lift a finger—I’ll take care of everything. Just need you to come here, okay? I can explain in person.

I’ll call after this meeting wraps. If you send me to voicemail, I’m just gonna try again. I can be very persistent, you know. 

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Sat, Aug 19, 2018 at 1:32 AM To: You Subject: Please

This whole ignoring Max song and dance is getting old. Forgive me already! Work was out of my hands, but I miss talking to you. Like getting your little emails, even when you’re teasing me. I miss calling you. We don’t have to talk! I can listen to you fold your laundry and you can hate me the whole time. 

Feeling a little pathetic over here, baby. Put me out of my misery.

From: Lily of the Valley Florist <orders@lilyotvflorist.com> Date: Fri, Aug 20, 2018 at 3:00 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Your order has been delivered!

From: Lily of the Valley Florist <orders@lilyotvflorist.com> Date: Fri, Aug 27, 2018 at 2:15 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Your order has been delivered!

From: Rocky Mountain Chocolate <orders@rockymountaincocoa.com> Date: Tue, Sep 18, 2018 at 12:49 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Your order has been delivered!

From: Lily of the Valley Florist <orders@lilyotvflorist.com> Date: Mon, Oct 3 2018 at 12:49 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Your custom order has been delivered!

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Mon, Oct 3 2018 at 3:59 PM To: You Subject: Today

Hey, you know what today is?

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Tue, Oct 6, 2018 at 7:03 PM To: You Subject: Miss my smuggler

I know you’ve put me on ice—would still really like to talk about that, by the way—but it’s coming up on refill season, so to speak… 

Need to talk to you. I know you’ve blocked my number and that the flowers are arriving. Do you like them? Are you allergic? I had to guess. Thought you might be a ranunculus girl, but I’m open to notes, you know. I’m very trainable.

Just tell me what to do to make it up to you. Let me take care of you.

From: You Date: Fri, Oct 9, 2018 at 9:47 AM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: Miss my smuggler [Sent with 1 attachment]

Sent your box. Here’s the tracking info. 

The flowers are beautiful but please stop sending them. I don’t have enough vases and it’s getting a little ridiculous.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Fri, Oct 9, 2018 at 6:03 PM To: You Subject: Re: Miss my smuggler

So what I’m hearing is… you liked the flowers?

From: Lily of the Valley Florist <orders@lilyotvflorist.com> Date: Mon, Oct 12 2018 at 2:47 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Your custom order has been delivered!

From: You Date: Mon, Oct 12, 2018 at 4:30 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: *waving white flag*

Okay, I’ve unblocked your fucking number. Please stop sending flowers. I surrender. Oh my god.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Mon, Oct 12, 2018 at 4:39 PM To: You Subject: Re: *waving white flag*

It’s the ranunculus, isn’t it? 

From: You Date: Mon, Oct 12, 2018 at 5:10 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: *waving white flag*

What’s the ranunculus?

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Mon, Oct 12, 2018 at 5:11 PM To: You Subject: Re: *waving white flag*

Your favorite flower. I guessed it right.

From: You Date: Mon, Oct 12, 2018 at 5:14 PM To: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Subject: Re: *waving white flag*

Shut up. 

Please resume groveling on the phone. And no more flowers. I mean it.

From: Max Phillips <m.phillips@bbcorporate.com> Date: Mon, Oct 12, 2018 at 5:19 PM To: You Subject: Fwd: Your flight has been booked!

No more flowers. Cross my heart.

One little tweak—how about I do that groveling in person? Snagged a seat on a red eye.

dividers by @saradika-graphics! thanks again to jo for hosting the dearuary challenge - this was so much fun.

[sdmnpact]

Among Us. Part 2.

Wroetoshaw x Reader ff

Part 1

~~~

You were sitting at a table across from Harry. You two actually decided to go out that night to celebrate your amongus win. It's a silly thing to go out to celebrate but realistically, you two used this as an excuse to meet up in person. After all that time you two 'spent together', you wanted to get to know each other in a proper environment rather than slicing your friends up.

The more you guys spent together, the more you felt comfortable with him. You two meshed together so easily because of your similar interests and sense of humor. You two could have stayed there all night chatting until the sun came up. Being there so long, you both kept ordering beers slowly and steadily getting a little more than tipsy. A light pink flush growing on both your cheeks as you drank on.

Time passing by so quickly, too quickly. It was quite late and you knew it was time to head home.

"You reckon we should leave now?" You asked slightly slurred. Finishing off the last bit of your drink. He agreed and you lot made your way towards the uber that Harry had ordered. You looked out the window seeing the streets under the light of the full moon. You looked towards Harry to see him struggling to stay awake. It wasn't too late, but the alcohol had definitely taken effect on you both. All you wanted at the moment was to lay in your warm bed.

As you arrived at your flat, you saw the shape Harry was in and told him to come up with you.

"Let's go bog." You said pulling on his arm as he followed you out the uber. You headed upstairs and inside to your flat.

"So, what should we do now?" He asked slightly more awake now. "Don't know, want to watch a movie?" you suggested. He nodded as he made his way towards the couch. He plopped down grabbing one of the throw pillow adjusting himself. You grabbed your remote and played a random movie on Netflix.

You sat about a foot away from him trying to get comfortable yourself. "You can come closer if you'd like." He almost murmured but said loud enough for you to hear. You smiled to yourself as you scooted closer now shoulder to shoulder. He slowly moved his arm to rest on the back of the couch, behind you. You felt the warmth of his arm almost wrapped around you.

As the movie progress, you two began melting together. You didn't realize just how close you had gotten to him. You were practically on his lap as he had fully wrapped his arm around you. It felt nice, the warmth that radiated off your bodies providing enough heat on this cold winter night.

Both feeling sleepy, you fought it off so you can spend more time awake in each other's embrace. He looked at you many times throughout the film, staring at your beauty as you would sneak glances at him, admiring his handsome features.

At this moment you knew that you wanted more than just a simple friendship with this man and little did you know, he wanted it too. You were too shy to say anything, but drunken Harry sure wasn't.

"We should do this more." The words left his lips with no other thoughts than to spend all his time with you. You looked up at him as the light of the television illuminated his face. He looked towards you, looking into your eyes with adoration. You felt yourself leaning into him as he was doing the same. Your lips touched briefly as you looked up at him.

"I would enjoy that."

~~~

A/n

I was wondering if anyone would like to join a tag list? I post these sporadically and wanted to see if anyone would like to be notified when I do! If you do, can you comment for who (George, Harry or both?) and whether or not you would like to be tagged in smut! Okay well, I hope enjoyed!!

[sageispunk]

pretty like u (18+)

↳ A little lipstick never hurt anyone...

pairing: early 2000s jeff hardy x bestfriend!alt!black!reader

wordcount: 1.5k+

warnings: 18+, smut, just a lil self indulgent fic, reader is also a wrestler & southern, MUA foreplay basically, making out, lap riding/dry humping, dubcon if u squint, light choking

“You sure it’s gon’ look good, baby?”

“Mhmm, now sit still…you’re gonna mess me up.”

Kittie was playing faintly on your stereo behind you, coming off the nu metal mixtape you put together last week. Jeffrey watched as you continued to work on his face. The two of you were seated in front of your brightly lit, custom-made vanity. You straddled the fluffy brown bench and he sat in front of you, leaning forward in the chair he pulled over from across the room.

You could feel his pretty green eyes on you as you held his jaw sturdy with one hand, using the other to very carefully pen the eyeliner along his lower lash line. You didn’t want to do too much but you knew that he was okay with you playing around a little bit on his face. You could tell he was enjoying himself by the way he blushed and giggled after you’d mindlessly commented about his perfect facial structure while you were finishing up his smokey eye.

Sitting back, you scanned his face to make sure everything was symmetrical. His eyes followed yours, going back and forth until you looked away, twisting to retrieve something from the cluttered vanity.

Jeffrey tried not to stare but he couldn’t help but watch the way your body stretched and the way your clothes pulled around the curves of your body. The thin leopard print halter top you wore began to rise up on your tummy, giving him a sneak peek of the softness he was eager to lay his lips on.

The moth tattoos on the tops of both of your thighs were creeping out from under your black denim shorts. His fingers twitched in his lap, he wanted to trace them along the lines, softly, enough to get you to finally let your walls down for him.

In the few years that you’d known one another, there was almost no separating you. You’d traveled together to matches, and despite having your own hotel rooms, the two of you would often be found in yours—munching on a box of pizza together, watching Scooby Doo or some other silly cartoon. You would fly back home to NC during holidays together, visiting each other’s families before spending your own time alone.

But neither of you ever crossed that line. Sure, there were those times when you would notice his hand lingering on the small of your back as he passed by, or when he would catch you staring while he was putting on his face paint on the other side of the room. Tiny moments that the both of you brushed off as just parts of your weirdly intimate friendship, but everyone around you could see the energy there.

Like now, as you held Jeff’s jaw in your hand, with your own face just inches away from his. The pattern of his beard tickled under your fingers. A moment of eye contact had you both seizing your breath, before you tore your eyes away, focusing instead on his lips—soft, pink. You took a deep breath and popped open your black lip liner with one hand, bringing the pencil up to his face.

“Baby—” His cold hands gently landed on the tops of your thighs.

“Jeff…” You took a deep breath. “Stop calling me that.”

“Why?” His thumbs slid back and forth on your skin.

You lowered the liner back down to your lap. Jeffrey kept his face close, still in your grasp. “Just, let me finish, okay?”

“Okay.” He fought the urge to grin.

You rolled your eyes, biting your lip to hide your own smile. You quickly finished up the liner around his lips, following with a layer of your darkest purple lipstick. “Smack.”

He did as you said, and you released his face. He stayed close, and you didn’t dare to back up either. “How do I look?”

“Pretty.”

“Pretty like you?”

“Jeff-”

He leaned in just an inch. “I really wanna kiss you right now.”

You smacked your lips. “So now you wanna mess up all my ha—"

Jeffrey closed the distance between you, swallowing your words down with his lips. Your eyelids fell shut as you accepted the feelings you’d been denying for too long. Blindly sitting your materials back onto the vanity, you brought your hands up to Jeff’s shoulders. As many times as you’ve touched him before, it was nothing like how you felt him now.

His warm muscles tensed under your grasp, relaxing a second later before he slid his hands further down the sides of your thighs, tucking them under and pulling you forward into his lap. You gasped at the sudden rearrangement and Jeff chased your lips like there was nothing in the world that he needed more.

Eyes low and lipstick already smudged, he used a hand on the back of your head to bring you back in. His fingers tangled in your long, black braids, gently stimulating your scalp. Jeff’s other hand was placed firmly on your hip, massaging into your bare skin. You moaned into each other’s mouths, hands scrambling to touch as much skin as possible, to remember as much as possible.

You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his lap, already feeling his excitement underneath you. He whined against your lips, beginning to move in circles with you. The harmony between your bodies had you growing needier by the second, feeling almost regretful about taking so long to go further with Jeff. One of your hands found itself lightly wrapped around his neck, your fingers only slightly squeezing the sides. Jeff moaned, putting a few inches of space between your faces. You looked down at his purple, kiss-swollen lips, then back up to his eyes.

“C’mon baby, I’m all yours, take what ya need…”

Resting his head back against the chair, he pulled your free hand up to his neck to join the other. You took the hint and let both of your hands wrap around, squeezing just a bit tighter. Your hips bucked on as you felt him thrusting his hardness up into you, the only thing separating you being the fabric of both of your jeans. The teasing friction had you wanting more and more, and you tried for it.

You threw your own head back, sexually and emotionally frustrated and needing this orgasm to level your thoughts. “Fuck!”

Jeff squeezed your hips, providing a grounding sensation. You zeroed in, focusing on his touch and the heat growing between your bodies. You found the perfect pattern to move your body in, feeling the effects of both his cock and the seams of the jeans teasing your cunt.

You knew you were close, but it felt like you were missing something. You wanted to feel him, actually on you, or in you. You wanted to reach this high with him.

And just like he could read your mind, Jeff brought your attention back to his face, with his hands wrapped around your wrists. “Don’t stop, baby,” He whispered. His eyes were pleading, and so was his body under you.

“Cum with me?” Your voice was hushed, rasped, throat nearly dry although the rest of you felt the complete opposite.

Jeffrey nodded, slowly, moving once again with you as you picked up speed. Your eyes never left one another as the intensity of the moment increased. It was as though you were in tune with each other’s heartbeat, with the way the blood pumped through the other’s system. Everything in the universe began to make sense, like your whole life was leading up to this moment.

You used your hands on his neck to steady you as you moved with an eagerness even you haven’t seen in yourself. “Jeffrey— fuck, oh my god…”

“Mhmm, just like that baby, don’t stop…you’re so pretty grindin’ on me like this…”

You shouted out his name one last time, your entire body freezing up before it began to vibrate. White light blinded you behind your eyelids as you hit your peak, and you could faintly hear Jeff’s choked moans below, his own hips jerking up into you. You could feel every hair standing up on your body, every gentle gust of cool wind from the vents kissing your skin.

Your hips continued to move together, lazily, cooling down. You were synced, it seemed. Your hands loosened from his neck, falling down to his chest and feeling the swell of his chest under your fingertips.

Jeffrey pulled your arms in, effectively bringing your face back to meet his own. This time, he didn’t catch you by surprise. Your lips moved together as though you’d been doing this for years, tongues slipping past one another to explore. Sucking. Licking. Smacking.

When things cooled down, you were forehead to forehead, breathing in eah other's air. You could feel the dampness of Jeff's lap under you, whether from you or him, you didn't care. Your eyes opened and were immediately met with his soft hazel gaze. Turning your head to the side, you placed a quick, gentle kiss on the side of his face. A new warm feeling spurred within you at the sight of him blushing and turning away from you.

"Oh, now you wanna act all shy, huh? Don't tell me this is all I had to do to get Mr. Jeff Hardy to give up all his power..." You teased him, giggling as you circled your hips for a short second, knowing good and well that he could probably make you just as weak if the roles were reversed.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, endearingly pulling you in to squeeze himself against your chest. "Shhhh, girl...just gimme a few minutes..."

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate, or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.

[sevastiel]

"It was indeed a king that stood before him. (...) The very sight was so… Incongruous. A knight in shining armor, facing down an army of Scaldra. Protecting what was his."

From Ch 33 of Guardian Spiral

[chitinleg]

got him off-balance!

[ricky-mortis]

I drew Ted from the wonderful @nabwastaken ‘s Time Bastard Au! The original design is by the talented @midnightnautilus , and was so very fun to draw!

[zandoarts]

2025 Update:

She's gone.

10 months later. I stood beside her while they put her down this morning. I'm somehow both heartbroken and numb at the same time. We discovered she had diabetes just two weeks ago, before treatments could get underway she was hospitalized with ketoacidosis. We visited her at the vet every day for her final week.

She wasn't even 5, and now she's gone.

Mia was a carefree little cat. A silly little bean.

She was very attached to our older cat and he was begrudgingly accepting of her. She would cuddle him and he would clean her and they'd sleep together for hours.

Mia was always curious around strangers. She'd wait for them to sit down, then come sniff and let them pet her. If they stayed long enough she would even come sit with them. Head pats were her favorite, right between the ears, as gently as you could. She would shove her little noggin into your hand if you stopped. When she was feeling playful, she would "walk sassy" and flip her tail from side to side, even plop and roll over, trying to get you to kneel down for pets.

Her favorite place to nap was on the back of a couch where she could see everyone in the room.

Her zoomies often involved parkour, as she would sometimes kick off walls or furniture to outmaneuver our older cat. Sometimes she was so spastic she would accidentally fall off furniture.

We often said "she ain't got no brain" because she was so derpy when she was playful, just rolling around and thrusting her noggin' into your hand for pets. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out hand fed treats. She'd bite your finger once or twice before she found the treat.

One of our favorite features of hers was her little "paintbrush" tail, a white bit of fur that was ONLY on the tip of her tail. Her little kitten black nose turned pink as she grew up.

I loved her ears. Always little radar dishes, alert and vertical. So twitchy. She didn't mind when I rubbed them.

Poor thing never did get used to claw trimming. So dramatic. Our older cat didn't fuss at all, but she was a squirmy noodle.

She had a snaggle tooth that sometimes appeared. I always tried to touch it, but she would often dodge. So fast. Good teefs.

I'll miss seeing her in the window when I come home from work. I'll miss the way she sat in my suitcase when I was getting ready for a work trip. I'll miss the way she squeaked when I knelt down and said her name. I'll miss the way she kneaded on my shirt. I'll miss seeing her tail swaying between the furniture as she ran about.

I'll miss my little princess. I'm going to miss her so dearly.

Thank you for reading this far. It means a lot to me. I sincerely hope I can stop crying at some point... but losing my little girl wasn't on my list for 2025.

Okay ya’ll. This is Mia…. and this is the best picture I can get of her until she calms her lil butt down.

She’s ~3 months old and our incumbent cat had a good hiss when he saw her. She’s got her own room and we’re doing scent introductions for now through a closed door, but I really hope they learn to tolerate each other cuz they’re both total sweethearts and super affectionate towards us. Older cat has been an only cat for several years so we’re trying to take it slow with him.

Anyone dealt with cat intros before?

[vaggieslefteye]

CHARLIE MAGNE from HAZBIN HOTEL (2019): Pilot - "That's Entertainment" ↳ "So, I've been thinking: Isn't there a more humane way to hinder overpopulation here in Hell? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through... redemption?"

[hypewinter]

DP x DC prompts

Just a couple of ideas that have me by the choke hold right now

Danny is Jason's older brother who died and got reincarnated. After circumstances force him to Gotham, he finds out that his beloved little brother is now a crime lord

As all the others leave the league of assassins, Danny is left behind to be molded by Ra's Al Ghul. One day Ra's decides to unleash his prized assassin on Gotham

Danny moves to Gotham and starts helping out at a local pet shelter (mainly so cujo can make friends). It is there where he runs into one Damian Wayne who is setting off his must protect senses

Danny becomes a back door engineer. He fixes things for cheap no questions asked. No one can beat him when it comes to using whatever you have laying around to build something from scratch. That's why he's Red Hood's personal mechanic

Danny is a clone of Batman and Superman. Superman is grateful that he can finally do right by his clone. Conner is exceedingly jealous of Danny's treatment. Batman is contemplating taking his friend to court for custody. And Danny is just vibing because now he has two powerful dads who won't let the giw get their hands on him.

And the final one that is really rotating around in my head:

Danny is Batman's informant. He can get any info the bat needs in record time. Batman is the only one who knows about Danny and his abilities so whenever anyone else catches a glimpse of him, they think it's Bruce's secret love child. Damian is not happy about this.

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

this one's for all the yuri enjoyers out there — nsft under cut

meronia event prompt(s): scar

[jimmyspades]

"I seem to be getting a lot of gavel whacks. Is it just me?" BOSTON LEGAL 5.06 "Happy Trails"

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Bolsonaro aide testifies about plan to assassinate Lula under threat of losing benefits

New hearing to be led by Justice Alexandre de Moraes; Bolsonaro and generals expected to be charged next week

Following the discovery by the Federal Police of an alleged coup plot and plans to assassinate then-President-elect Lula, Mauro Cid—an aide to former President Jair Bolsonaro and a key figure in the investigation—will be heard again by Justice Alexandre de Moraes of Brazil’s Supreme Court this Thursday afternoon (21). The police found that Justice Moraes and Vice President Geraldo Alckmin were also targets of the alleged assassination plot.

The military officer was summoned after the Federal Police submitted a report to the Supreme Court indicating inconsistencies and omissions in his testimony to investigators last Tuesday (19). The Federal Police assessed that Mr. Cid violated terms of a plea agreement inked last year and has been minimally cooperative with the investigation.

The Federal Police have expressed doubts regarding Mr. Cid’s effective cooperation, evidenced by their summoning him to testify after recovering deleted data from electronic devices belonging to him. Investigators also questioned him about the coup plot to assassinate Mr. Lula, Mr. Alckmin, and Justice Moraes.

On the same day, the Federal Police launched Operation “Contragolpe,” which led to the arrest of four military personnel and a Federal Police agent suspected of participating in a major conspiracy to keep former President Bolsonaro in power after his 2022 election defeat.

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