#milk deliver near me

[binsar-farms]

Milk Home Delivery Near Me

Are you looking for Milk Home Delivery Near Me? If yes end your search at Binsar Farms. At Binsar Farms, you get the best quality 100% pure & natural Cow & Buffalo milk to deliver to your doorstep before 7 am at the best rates.

[hottestvirgin]

TRUST ME | PARK SUNGHOON

₊˚⊹ ᰔ plot. after months and months of convincing, you finally let your boyfriend go further.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ warnings(17+). smut, sex, virginity loss, dirty talk, corruption, manipulation, name-calling, rough sex.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ A/N. thank you sm for 1K! i'm still taking requests and i'm sorry for disappearing for damn near a month so here's a lil sumn <3

“you trust me?” sunghoon asked, licking his plush lips with a small glint in his eyes. of course you did. he was your boyfriend after all— someone you trusted more than anything.

and of course, sunghoon loved you. but he wanted more. he couldn’t kiss you without fantasizing about how you’d feel around him; snug and warm. he would fist his cock every night at the thought of your tight, wet cunt around him, squeezing and milking him all he’s worth.

he'd think about how sensitive your pretty body would be since he’d be the first man to ever touch you. and most of all, he couldn’t wait to turn you into his desperate slut who'd beg for his dick with any chance you'd get.

“of course,” you told him. deep down, you knew that those two words would change everything and finally grant him full access to your body for once. you were ready, and so sunghoon quickly found himself in between your thighs, franticly rocking into you.

“keep talking to me, baby,” he ragged, slowly and painfully splitting you open on his thick cock with each pump of his hips. “let everyone know who the fuck owns this pussy now.”

all you knew was to clench around him, the foreign pleasure sending intense shockwaves throughout your body that you couldn't handle. “b-baby—i can’t.. can’t take it!” you mewled. goosebumps formed all over your body as you held onto anything that was accessible; sheets, pillows, his thick arm.

but in sunghoon's defense, he was too lost in your warmth and wetness. he used and bruised your pulsing hole like a sex toy, rutting into you with every muscle in his body. he loved how your dripping cunt struggled to accommodate his size, fluttering walls stretching painfully just to take him.

“you’re so soft,” he grunted. his thumb slid between both of your hot bodies to stroke your swollen clit and you clenched harder around him with a sudden gasp. “mm, you like when i touch that slutty pussy?” he delivered a powerful slap against the bud, “hm?”

“yes! ah.. love it.” you hiccupped and threw your head back against the pillow, hands gripping onto his forearms as he continued to rut into your body. nothing could have prepared you for this. he was obsessed and drunk on how small and helpless you looked beneath him, each drag of his cock had you holding your breath and wanting more.

sunghoon let out a low, rough grunt. “this pussy’s mine now. say it for me.” your boyfriend licked his lips and embraced your body, stomach-churning at the lewd faces you made.

“i-it’s yours.” you moaned, voice shaky and needy. everything's so wet, sloppy, and messy. he could feel his balls getting tighter, that aching feeling in his abdomen that could only fill his mind with the idea of pumping you full of his cum. "what’s mine baby?” he squeezed your thighs and increased his pace, chuckling when your words got caught in your throat.

your breath hitched when you felt his tip stroke that spot again, “my pussy.. s’ yours.” it was almost a yell. he pinned your wrists above your head, “good girl.” he praised.

legs trembling against his body, nails digging into his shoulders, incoherent noises leaving your mouth.. you couldn't even focus anymore because all you could think about was your man and his fat cock reaching and poking the deepest parts of you.

you were drooling— sentences coming to a start before fading away. at that moment, you wanted more. you needed more. you wanted him to go deeper, faster, harder— to make it hurt so bad that it feels so good. you wanted him in ways you've never felt before.

"i'm gonna cum." he whimpered with small, shaky breaths. it made your stomach twist in arousal, it was so fucking hot. you loved how your body had him like this. he nuzzled his sweaty face into your neck, "f-fuck.. Y/N."

he continued to punch breathless moans out of you, squeezing your hips in desperation. it didn't take much time before you were convulsing around him, your body tensing and coating his base with a creamy, white ring. and he continued to fucked his cum into you, making you glad that you said those two words.

[chanelrolls]

milkman x gn!reader

genre: suspense, thrill, a bit of action

summary: you're warned abt the recent doppelganger sightings around your town while you're home alone, unbeknownst to yourself that you'd be attacked by one of your neighbours, the milk man, as the two of you play a game of cat and mouse.

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"have you been warned by the recent doppelganger sightings?", from the other side of the phone, your bestfriend's voice resonated through the line, whilst you're rubbing your hands with soap by the kitchen counters. you had just finished eating dinner with your pet, and you have been living alone all by yourself since your grandparents allowed you to take over their property.

you take note of your bestfriend's words, brows furrowing until your glabella meets. of course, you are aware of what a doppelganger is, but the sudden phenomenon of its existence leaves you perplexed. or maybe, your bestfriend is joking around again? "doppelgangers? where'd you even hear that from? so silly...", you wipe your hands with a piece of cloth, awaiting her response.

"hear? i witnessed it myself, y/n. it's on the newsflash, residents are being attacked by doppelgangers! some being injured and some in critical condition, as said. y/n, you should be careful—"

your attention abruptly shifts towards your main door, and to the windows that was situated in both sides. you almost swore you heard a faint noise from outside, specifically near your porch. you remained silent, a series of shivers running through your nerves. "y/n? are you there?", your bestfriend's voice came out as a background noise, as you slowly saunter towards the window, with every movement you make being precise and calculated.

just then, your heart nearly escapes out of your chest upon seeing someone's silhouette by the porch. you couldn't see much since the window restricted you from doing so, and otherwise, whoever the hell that is might see you. "girl, call 911 immediately.", you whispered to your phone. "what? what's happening!? you're making me worried, y/n!" you halt from your tracks when your eyes catch sight of a familiar delivery box that was resting near the silhouette's feet. it was the daily delivery milkman! strangely, he usually delivers you the milk jugs every 6PM, and it's already past 2 hours.

"nevermind... just make sure to answer your phone as soon as i call you."

"what? you haven't—", you cut your bestfriend's line on end, quietly placing your phone down. you hesitated for a few more moments, but the knocking on the door interferes with your trail of thoughts. you weren't sure whether you'd believe your bestfriend's warnings since you haven't heard of the news yourself (well, because you don't watch the news...) or just get it over with and receive the milk jugs as fast as possible.

you puff out a nervous sigh, your hand slowly reaching out for the doorknob — as your fingers touched the cold metallic surface, you twisted the handle, opening the door and facing francis mosses himself. as always, he held a lackadaisical countenance for someone whose job is as mundane as delivering milk jugs to the same locations each day. nothing really changed in his appearance... he had the same lifeless eyes, with dark and deep bags underneath. his physique is attuned by the same milkman suit paired with his silly little iconic hat on top of his head, plus, he's towering over you.

before you were able to say anything, he speaks up, "sorry for the late delivery." with a monotonous tone. you try to scrutinize any unusual differences in his physiognomy, to compare them to the previous times he made deliveries for you. as much as you wanted to ignore your bestfriend's warnings at the back of your head, your subconscious couldn't help but to act a lot more wary. you watched as his eyes locked onto yours, then momentarily shifting to the inside corners of your house. "will you perhaps... let me in?"

your breath hitched, what kind of question was that? no sane human would have the guts to ask a fellow you barely know something so outright and personal. "oh. 'scuse me for being rude, i've just been really thirsty and worn out, a glass of water would help...", he explains, his hand going up to gesture to his adam's apple, with a silent plea in his sleepy eyes.

"ah—", you promptly take the milk jugs from his hand, avoiding any eye-contact. "if all you need is water, i'll bring it out for you then. please wait outside!" you lightheartedly cheer, trying to shake off the tension building up in the atmosphere. but as soon as you turn your back on him, you hear a thud, causing you to instinctively look over your shoulder.

francis's hand is leaning against the doorframe, while the other is behind him. his eyes became peculiarly darker than a moment ago, steadily aiming at you, as his foot is almost beyond the doorstep. "i'd also need to wash a part of me, so i'll really appreciate it if you let me in?" his lips are slightly parted, exposing a bit of his teeth.

"uh-" your head then became messy with all of the incoherent thoughts flowing, and the only thing certain to you right now was how alarmed you feel.

"please?", added he, taking one more step forward, his fingers crawling from the doorframe and to the flat wooden surface of the door itself, to fully lean his elbow against the frame as a way to support his figure.

that's it. your survival instincts have been provoked, this was too far for an ordinary milkman to be acting like this- almost trespassing your personal space, at that. you run to the kitchen island, and as you do so, the sound of rushing footsteps behind you had your adrenaline skyrocketing its maximum. you frantically search for any possible weapon, thus eventually grabbing a paring knife to aim it towards the milkman's doppelganger.

his agility outmatched yours, when he wraps his hand around your wrist to twist your forearm, forcing you to drop your weapon onto the cold tiles. "no, no, no, not so fast—" francis cooed, but there's no way you would let yourself die in a situation like this, so as soon as he planned on doing his next move, you raise your knee to hit his crotch.

"gghk!" that painful strike from you elicited a grunt out of him, you didn't hesitate to take advantage of his agony and kicked him down to the ground once more. your hands desperately reach for the knife again, as if it was the only thing that could keep you alive (well, technically it is.) grabbing ahold of it and positioning the tip near his eye.

at this point, you were hovering on top of him, with your knees painfully pressed against the floor. on the other hand, francis is still wincing from the attack he had to endure, his elbows angled against the tiles to keep his torso slanted from it. "try to move, i'll stab your forehead."

if you were to be honest, you weren't sure of what you had to do next. but as of now, you were sure that you gained the upper hand.

milkman doesn't say anything, he keeps his eyes on yours, as if he plans on burning your eyeballs with just the ominous power of his stare. you watched how the corners of his lips formed a smirk, also as if to mock your attempts. "playing games now?" he leans closer, but within a blink of an eye, plunging forward to yank your arm away and pinning you down the tiles, reversing the positions. surely, you didn't have the upper hand anymore.

"how do you feel being beneath me? like this?", he says, his fingertips lightly coasting up the skin of your face. you feel his touch on your ears, you didn't understand what he was trying to do, and you still attempt to escape from his grip. however, francis had no intention of letting you go. his fingers leave your ear, moving down to wrap around your throat. his grip is firm, that you could feel his nails subtly digging into the flesh of your neck, and you're starting to feel light-headed.

"i politely told you to let me in. if you only did, then..." you gasp for air, but you didn't fail to catch how his eyes were already widened and his pupils were contracted. the expression plastered on his visage resembling a mad psychopath's. "then this wouldn't have happened to you."

just as you embraced yourself to face death, everything went black and dead silent. though you still felt the hand around your neck, but his grip loosened. it took the both of you long enough to realize that a power outage within the whole neighbourhood had occured.

you muster up the courage and strength to push him off of you while he was still dumbfounded from the blackout. scurrying away, you feel his hand grab your ankle, but you were quick enough to give his face a hit, so you crawl up bristling and ran around the house.

it was hard for you to see much, but the moonlight seething through the blinds was enough for you to catch sight of the living room materializing before your scrutiny in the dark. the first thing you did was to hide in the small closet near the TV, praying that the odds will favour you and somehow trick the milkman that you went somewhere else.

you made sure to keep yourself quiet, hearing slow footsteps as you try to process where it came from and where it led to. the reverbating echoes of the steps indicated that he was heading upstairs, to your relief. you carefully push the closet door and step outside, wandering your eyes around the vicinity. each step you made towards the main door had your heart hammering against your chest, but shouldn't you feel advantaged that the doppelganger is now upstairs? the presence of the milkman still lingered even though he's not to be seen anymore.

your hand clutches onto your chest, upon coming into the realization of having to call your bestfriend. but where was your phone? you couldn't remember where you last left it due to how much you've been panicking. "fuck, fuck. i need to calm down—"

just then, you feel someone's hot breath brush against your nape, and a strong sense of presence just right around nearby. you stop, breathing heavily as your hands begin to tremble. ghostly fingers crawl up to your arm up until your shoulder, and his breathing is getting slow on your ear. slowly, your eyes move to the mirror adjacent to where you were standing.

and then, you see him standing behind you. you take note of how the hat he wore moments prior was no longer on top of his head, and you could see that his hair is slightly disheveled from all the chase you've been doing.

"ngh—!", you squeak in surprise, but he was fast enough to cover your mouth with a hand. he looks at you through the mirror, and you look at how he had the same smirk from earlier. it was inhumanely impossible, but you swore to yourself that you could see a blood-red glint lurking beneath his irises.

"shhh."

he pulls your waist, forcing you to face him and your faces had never been this close before. the proximity makes your blood rise all the way up to your face, for some other reason you couldn't pinpoint out. you couldn't quite distinguish his features that much from the darkness, but you were able to see the shadows and the contrasts in his face.

"would you want to see my real form?", his eyebrows are tilted, creases forming in between. "it seems you do, you keep testing my patience." there was a subtle hiss through his whispers, as he pushes you down the nearest chair, pulling a groan out of your throat.

there was an undeniable tension jostling through and through, maybe even a sexual one, at that. from the amount of intimate physical touching that he's done on you, and the way francis's predatory gaze constantly skim through your body. while you're just right there, being helpless and facing no other choice but to submit. otherwise he'll use that larger knife in his hand on you, wait, since when did he have that?

"please..." you beg through gritted teeth, clutching onto the fabric of the sofa you're on.

"please." he repeats, mocking you with a pleading face that came much more convincing than yours. he's leaning forward, looking like he's the one hovering on you allover again.

you close your eyes, pursing your lips against one another. but as soon as francis makes yet another move, the wail of the siren pierces the tranquility of the neighbourhood, echoing off the silence. as the police cars prowls past, its pulsating hues of crimson and blue seeths through the windows of your house.

you open your eyes, is that the police? are they here to save you? all of the sudden, francis drops the weapon he's been holding, immediately kneeling on the ground and looking up at you, this time, with a genuine plea.

"no, don't make me go. please."

it's too late, the doppelganger has been caught. and the chase had now come to an end.

[spicyspiders]

search and destroy

Francis Mosses x male reader smut

1.7k words

This is role reversal where the reader is a milkman and Francis is the doorman. I wouldn’t say this is as dark as the fic with him I just posted is, but it’s still pretty dark. Francis uses his position of power/authority to preform a cavity search on the reader.

“Come with me, sir,” the man says from behind the window before a metal shutter falls, making you jump at the suddenness.

A door near the window opens, giving you a full view of the man. He looks bored and tired all at once, which you can’t really blame him for. You got bored too, delivering bottles of milk all day. Speaking of, it made you roll your eyes to be interrupted from your job, you had work to do.

You follow the man to a door that matches the one you just walked through. Instead of the hallway like the previous door had opened to, this one instead opened to a medical examination room. Why the fuck was this back here, you wondered.

“Lean forward with your hands against the wall,” the man said. At your look of unease, he gestured to the empty counter, “you can set that down right there.”

“Is this necessary?” You asked as you set the carrier down. The bottles were already sweating with condensation. You didn’t have time for this.

“Yes sir. I am just trying to make sure I can properly verify you,” the man says. You feel the heat of his body behind yours first before his hands are on your body, patting you down.

You had never been pat down before, and sure as hell didn’t expect to be while on the clock. It felt invasive, while also oddly intimate at the same time.

“May I take this off?” He asks, his hands on the sides of your hat. After you give a stiff nod, he pulls the hat off with much more care than you expected of him. “I will also need you to take this off.”

You gasp when you fill his hands on your hips, “I don’t think that’s necessary,” you respond, swatting his hands away before you turn to lean on the wall. You wished it would somehow open and swallow you up and take you away from this weird fucking situation.

“Sir,” the man says, looking like he’s using everything he has to keep from rolling his tired eyes. “I’m just trying to do my job,” he says calmly. “It will only take a few moments.”

Your eyes nervously look away to keep from having to make eye contact. Francis his name tag reads. When you’ve mustered up the courage to look back into his eyes, the man still standing there patiently, you nod.

“Once you’ve taken your pants and underwear off, sir, bend over the front of the examination table.”

Your heart hammers in your chest as you slowly pull the bottom half of your clothing off, your shoes going first. You don’t make eye contact with the man again as you place your clothing into his open arms.

The only thing you can do is do what the man asks and lean over the bed, trying your best to not crinkle the loud paper. Your mouth stays shut, even after you hear what sounds like the man rifling through your pockets.

You jump when a gloved hand comes into contact with your hip. You’re too in your own head to even register the way that the man says your name like he’s trying to calm a spooked animal. “Relax,” Francis commands softly, “this will go much smoother if you’re relaxed.”

You are able to register when he speaks next, “good boy,” he says, hating how the praise makes you feel better, if only a little.

Once again, you jump when one of his gloved fingers circles your hole, “my apologies for the temperature,” Francis says. The finger pushes in slowly, and as it does, your teeth sink into your bottom lip to keep from letting out the noise that you already feel growing in your throat.

“You’d be surprised where people hide things to try and sneak them in,” Francis says, letting out a humorless chuckle.

“You’ve had to do this before?” You ask, finding your voice before he presses his finger into that spot of pleasure you’re afraid he’ll find. You already feel embarrassed enough, you didn’t want to add getting a boner to that.

“It’s what I’ve heard from others,” he says as his finger goes deeper, “I was told to use any means necessary to complete my job correctly.”

So he’s never done this before? You wanted to ask before your fear becomes a reality as his slick finger finds the bundle of nerves that has pleasure shooting straight for your soft cock. You didn’t know what Francis was thinking he would find, but it seemed he found what he was hoping to find.

Your forehead, slick with sweat from nervousness falls to the bed as you try and do whatever you can to stifle the sounds that fall from your lips. However, Francis makes them tough to hide as he focuses in on the spot.

“No need to feel embarrassed,” he says, “another thing that I’ve heard is feeling pleasure is not unheard of during a cavity search.” His finger presses into the spot before the pad rubs over it, again and again. “In fact, it’s quite normal.”

Before you can bite too hard into your lips and pierce the skin, you let up and let the moans fall free from your mouth.

“I assume it does feel good?” Francis asks, dragging his fingers of his other hand down your taint until he can run his gloved fingers down your half-hard cock, “if this is anything to go by.”

“Yes,” you whisper, lifting your head to rest it on your arm. You spread your legs further for the man, and the noise of approval he makes goes straight to your cock.

“May I add another?” Francis asks, pulling his finger free.

”Yes,” you repeat.

With two of his fingers pressing deep into your body, you’re much more vocal than when you just had the one. You whine against the burn from the stretch of his two fingers, a pain that Francis alleviates when his fingers find your prostate again.

“Better?” He asks, not sounding bored, much to your surprise. “Would you like more?”

”I don’t know,” you sob as his fingers alternate between pressing against your prostate, and spreading to scissor you open.

“C’mon,” Francis chuckles darkly, “I know you can take it.”

”Please,” you whine, your hard cock aches between your legs. You didn’t even know what you were begging for. Was it for Francis to make you cum and get rid of the ache? Was it for him to stop and let you walk out on shaky legs to finish the rest of your deliveries?

”Shh, I know exactly what you need.” He whispers into your ear after he’s leaned down. What comes after the sound of his voice is the sound of a zipper coming undone.

You go tense at the feel of the blunt head of Francis’ cock at your hole. The sound of the man slicking his cock up hits your ears before it abruptly ends and his hands are wrapping tightly around your hips. Just from the feel of the head, you didn’t think just two of his fingers would be enough, but you still waited with bated breath.

You both groaned when Francis pushed in, just as slow as he did with his first finger. He doesn’t stop until his hips come into contact with your ass and his cock has carved its place inside your body.

“You walk around in that uniform,” Francis breathes into your ear before he’s pulling his cock free until the wet, spongy head is kissing your hole, “how could I not bring you back here,” he says before thrusting back inside.

The pain of the stretch from his cock is nearly too much, but the pleasure that overtakes that feeling when his cock hits your prostate makes it all worth it. It only takes a few thrusts for the pain to be a thing of the past, the only thing you’re left to focus on is the pleasure the man behind you is giving to you.

Though, giving would probably be the wrong word. You think the word hammering would be the better word as the slap of skin-on-skin echoes throughout the space.

Francis’ balls plap against your ass as yours draw up tight as your edge approaches. The only warning you can give is a jumble of noises, but alongside those noises is the flutter of your hole around Francis’ cock, which you assume is enough to warn the man before you clamp down on his cock as your orgasm rushes through your body.

From behind you, Francis moans from the stimulation to his cock. One of his hands releases the tight grip on your hips to go down to your cock to tug at your cock to get more of your cum out.

You collapse down onto the examination table, the paper wrinkled below your body. Your hips came into contact with the mess you made from your cock, making you glad that you wouldn’t have to clean the room afterwards. It made you wonder who would, and if they would come in before or after the smell of sex was gone from the room.

The hard cock pounding in and out of your hole came to a halt moments after yours had gone soft. It gave a valiant twitch as the man behind you moaned, knowing that his cock was pumping you full. In fact, it didn’t take long after Francis pulled out for his seed to start leaking from your hole.

There’s no way you were going to be able to look at your uniform without thinking of what you’ve just done. Hell, you’re going to have to burn the one you currently have and then request another one, but even then, the sight of it will be a reminder.

You hear the sound of Francis’ zipper, and then the sound of his shoes on the floor. The sound gets closer minutes later before you feel a wet, warm cloth between your legs.

“Easy,” he murmurs at the soft sounds you let out when the cloth runs over your sensitive hole and soft cock, “I’ve got you,” he says, one of his hands going back to your hips to hold you in place as he wipes you clean.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” You ask as you raise yourself up after the man steps away again.

“Yes sir. Thank you for your cooperation, you may now get dressed.”

[respectthepetty]

10 Anticipated BLs for 2024

Since I'm excited for ALL the GLs (Pluto, 23.5, Sunshine in the Wind, Chaser Game, Be Mine, y todo!), I'm making my list of the 10 BLs I'm excited for this year with brief reasons why I'm looking forward to them. In my normal fashion, I cheat my way into having more. All except one is Thai because Thailand loves to tease series three years in advance, then never make them, but I strongly believe these are coming:

The Next Prince

Zee continues to never play a poor person, and a trailer is supposed to drop in the first quarter of this year. I never knew there was so many fencers on BL Tumblr, so I'm looking forward to everyone's commentary on how well the characters poke with their sticks or whatever fencers do.

Jack & Joker: U Steal My Heart

It's a heist BL. It has YinWar. It has Prom x Mark. It has Bonz. It's Dee Hup House (we got beef). It's Director Tee and probably Cinematographer Jim. It might have color coding. There is not one thing I can find wrong with this series. It's perfect on paper, and I'm praying that translates well to the screen.

Spare Me Your Mercy

Like that lady in Titanic, I've been waiting 80 years for this series (give me a minute to cry about MaxTul), and it's finally near! I'm getting JJ & Tor in a Dr. Sammon piece, who I feel writes "Be Gay, Do Crime" very well, so I'll be forgiving any of these two gays' wrongs including murder, attempted murder, contemplating murder, and murdering each other in the bedroom (ahhhh!).

Wandee Goodday

Golf from The Eclipse is directing. It's about Muay Thai. It has an older doctor and a younger boxer who start off as bed friends (and I think one is actually a virgin). It has color coding. It has me already seated and waiting with popcorn, and I think it might be the first offering that will be delivered from GMMTV's 2024 lineup.

Sequels: Choco Milk Shake 2, Unintentional Love Story 2, My Doctor

Is Choco Milk Shake 2 gonna finally give me poly? Probably not, but I hope My Doctor brings the same heat the side couple did in Be Mine, Superstar, and the side couple getting the spotlight in Unintentional Love Story 2 will also make my side-couple-supremacy heart very happy this year.

Live in Love

It looks color coded. That's it. That's the reason. Keeping my expectations low because it might not get made since this is Thailand's favorite game.

Red Peafowl

The character reveals were absolute chaos, so I'm hoping that chaos transfers over to the actual series because it can either be a mess or a masterpiece, but it cannot be mediocre with Max, Cooheart, Boun, Mek, and Yacht as supports. Plus, it has color coding and a bird that is quickly becoming a Tumblr god.

Love Upon a Time

Even though it is a historical queer series, which means it could be sad, I think Domundi will keep the sass, so James' character won't be crying in the 1600s club but instead eating fruit seductively to encourage Net's character to put his homosexual skills into practice instead of simply theorizing about them, which is something I need more of. Plus, it has color coding.

Love Puzzle

This is one that might not get made because . . . Thailand. It's connected to Chains of Heart, but I don't care because the cast looks good and Poppy is gonna finally get to kiss a homie. If this doesn't get made, I will cry thug tears. It's 2024. Poppy deserves to kiss a man already.

My Stand-In

I don't understand the plot, but it doesn't matter because Pepzi and Khom are directing, and in case that means nothing, those were KinnPorsche's directors! Then, it has Up and Poom as the leads, plus a stacked supporting cast. I'm here. I'm queer. And I'm ready to be served.

Honorable Mention: Peaceful Property

It's about los espookys and features Tay and New. Will it be a QL? The streets are saying no, but all the characters are color coded, and all's I'm saying is what would be the point of color coding them if I ain't getting a BL main couple and a GL side couple? It's already canon to me.

Bonus: MosBank & JoongDunk

MosBank had like eighty projects announced for 2023, and I got NONE! Big Dragon 2, Big Dragon: The Movie, SunsetxVibes, where you at?! Y Journey: Stay Like a Local and Club Friday do not count. I don't want to watch their horror movie, but gosh darnit, if that comes out before everything else, I just might.

And I am a JoongDunk fan first, and a human second. Give my boys a gym BL already, GMMTV!

[mychlapci]

This woke me up last night in a cold sweat before I passed back out but here:

So off of that one mer!prowl ask about them cleaning his tank and putting him somewhere else, what if it was the Constructicons' tank? They seem to be in hibernation, just resting in a big pile of barely twitching fins and claws and Prowl, while a bitch, seems to leave other mers alone for the most part so long as he doesn't get a stick up his tail about something. For a temporary tank moving, it seems like it'll work!

What they didn't know is that it's not hibernation; it's reproductive torpor. Either they're like clownfish with only one carrier at a time (who was Scrapper that's missing/dead/etc) or they're a stud group for Megatron, but without their MegaMommy around, there's no activation to their rut, so torpor it is until the breeding season passes.

But then Prowl gets dumped into their tank, irritated and snappy and unintentionally acting like a bratty, interested carrier challenging them. So by the time the caretakers come back, first they think Prowl tank hopped somehow because they can't see him.

Then someone sees the frantically twitching edge of a doorwing/doorfin in the middle of the tight knot of the Constructicons and eventually they find the right angle to look at to see Prowl getting all the spike. Two shoved in his valve, one in his mouth, another each in both of his hands and the Constructicons have their hands all over him, fondling everywhere; especially his generously heavy titties. Mixmaster and Scavenger are even sucking on them greedily, biting and squeezing to get his milk, switching between the six titties to get them all leaking. Prowl's twitching and jerking but no one can tell if it's him fighting to get away, to get more or just muscle jerks in reaction to what's going on.

By the time they're done, he is Round. Prowl can't even move, just laying there on the bottom of the tank, limp and twitching with the occasional doorfin flutter as he stares upwards in stunned shock.

There's no removing him either. The Constructicons quickly move him into their cave nest and besides, it'd be so mean to take their new carrier away, wouldn't it?

And even after he delivers, he's immediately pregnant again; either because the Constructicons were on him the second the last egg/pup slipped out or they stuffed him so full and heavy with transfluid his body retained a near lifetime's supply's worth. So the second his tank's empty, his own body immediately refills it with the retained transfluid to start a fresh new pregnancy.

So that's now his life; fat and heavy with eggs and pups for the Constructicons.

hgrhh I remember that ask, yeah, I think I even mentioned that he gets put in with the constructicons. or someone else did. anyways, God, I need bitchy mer Prowl to get put in his place by big, strong studs. The Constructicons felt like Primus listened and sent them a cute little feisty carrier to interrupt their breeding season stupor. Finally, a tight little hole they can fill with their transfluid, and for how much Prowl threatens to bite, he's actually pretty docile once there's a spike inside of him. valve swallowing each pump of cum greedily <33

He definitely becomes a permanent resident of the tank... The staff has to leave him in there because the constructicons keep getting him pregnant over and over again and they don't want to separate him from his stud, not when Prowl gets too fat with pups that he cannot swim on his own. Letting five large mers manhandle him around the tank is actually very good for Prowl.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 407: Babysitting, p2 (Breakroom Interlude One)

“What kind of tea is that?” Melissa asked, as she sat her big butt down in the old breakroom. She’d spent most of her day in the new wings, helping get things ready, but was back in the office this afternoon. Her feet, even in these new pumps, were killing her. She felt the heels might snap at any time; she needed another pair now that she was getting so much heavier. “It smells like licorice.”

“It is kozieradka i koper włoski,” smiled Katarina, currently the medical records clerk here at FHMA, “Fenugreek and the fennel.” She, too, had been working on the other side of the building all morning, in the just-about-ready Regression Clinic. They’d just put in the new chairs and had the parturition canal delivered. “Is good lactation aid. Bring in more the milk.”

“Mmm,” Melissa nodded, feeling a little twinge as she glanced down at her blonde co-workers chest, which seemed ready to burst the buttons of her crisp white blouse, to the point where gaps were puckering below her neckline. “Looks like you need to pump?”

“Yes always need to pump,” Katarina chuckled, grasping one big breast through her top, squeezing, “Is…how do you call it…’full time job’.” 

To that, Melissa giggled, and took a sip of her own tea. Peppermint, with some honey. “Speaking of, we’re going to need to put someone new here at the medical records desk, once you start up in the new clinic next week, right?”

Katarina shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe,” she replied, “Medical record job here easy, boring. Maybe I keep doing it too? No need hire new girl.”

Melissa loved Katarina’s accent. Polish, right? It was adorable. 

“Okay, sure,” the tall brunette beauty agreed.  “But once you get too busy just let me know. We can find someone.”

Katarina nodded, took a sip of tea. 

“How are things in the clinic? Getting ready?” Melissa asked. Under the breakroom table, she kicked off her heels. Ahhhh.

“Yes, good ready,” the young blonde answered, “I meet Dr. Chou for first time, new therapist, from Evolution.”

“Yes! She’s great isn’t she?” Melissa beamed, “She’s on the team that takes care of me there.”

“Ah yes good,” Katarina smiled, “Also tub getting installed soon. Shanette calling first clients for next week, before she leave for her trip, doing schedule. I saw you have appointment with-?”

“Oh yes I’m so excited for it!” Melissa giggled, feeling herself flush and remembering how cute he looked this morning when she left him all snuggled up under the covers. Randi had better be being nice to him today! She and Jay's relationship had been growing so well, but she knew with some professional help they could go even farther. 

Another twinge, right near her nipple. “Hey can I try your tea?”  Melissa asked. 

“Sure,” Katarina replied, sliding her white mug across the table, with a hint of crooked smile. 

Melissa took a slow sip. “Mmm tastes kind of like maple syrup?” 

Katarina nodded, took back the tea as Melissa slid it back towards her. “Is good in smoothies too.”

“I bet.” Casually, Melissa tucked an errant lock of her thick, dark hair behind an ear. She’d been wearing it up all day but parts of it were starting to misbehave. “I like your eyeliner,” she said, admiring the blonde’s makeup. Despite having the twins and a husband to care for at home, Katarina always looked so nice. Having only known the Polish girl for only several weeks <check this>, Melissa already felt a nice connection with her. She was a straight shooter, for sure, no nonsense. And really pretty. Plus, Katarina had let Melissa feed Jay her pumped breastmilk recently haha - maybe she liked it, giving him his milk-. She felt like she could talk to Katarina about something she’d been thinking about. As a mom, she might have some insight. 

“So, um, Katarina,” Melissa began again. The two women were alone in the breakroom, still. “You know Dr. J and I have been getting really close?”

“You are the girlfriend-boyfriend, yes?”

“Yes yeah. We’re trying to be really open, really honest with each other now.” Well, I’m doing the best I can without freaking him out. “And, so, for a while, I’ve been able to, like, read him really you know what I mean? Like, I know what he needs, almost know what he’s thinking…?”

“Yes yes?” Katarina nodded, leaning in towards the table, listening. She’d write this down later, in her report. Or maybe not. “Is very normal, you are in love.”

“Well, yes,” Melissa responded, feeling herself flush. Love! Yes!  “But, like, I know it sounds weird but sometimes I can actually, like, see things, like his dreams or whatever he’s, like, thinking about. Like see it see it,” Melissa continued, pausing. “Can you do that, like, with your babies? Or your husband?”

“My boys?” Katarina answered, considering the question, pausing herself. “Is easy, I know what they always be thinking about.” Another pause. “Boobs. Always boobs. Bab…babies  and husband the same.””

Melissa giggled.

“But, Doctor…” Katarina asked, with new interest, “…what he think about now?”

“You mean, besides boobs?”

Katarina chuckled. “Yes, besides boobs.”

“Well, like I said, it was weird, but it was like I was seeing his memories or something,” Melissa said, “I saw what his mom looked like, when he was young, before she left him as a baby.”

“Yes?” This was new, Katarina thought. “Mother looked…?”

“A lot like me,” Melissa answered, “A lot like I look now.”

“Pretty?”

Melissa flushed again. “Yes,” she answered, “And thank you.”

“Big boobs?” Katarina continued. 

“Yes.” Mine are bigger. 

“Big butt? Big hair?”

“I guess?” Melissa answered, “He was just a baby. I think everything looked big to him.”

This was definitely going in Katarina’s report. Or maybe not. “Did she nurse him?” she asked. 

Now Melissa definitely felt a twinge behind her nipple. “I dunno. I dunno if he knows.”

Unapologetically and a bit clinically Katarina’s gaze fell to Melissa’s massive chest. “Do you feel it, like..?”

“Coming in?” Melissa replied, “I dunno…maybe?”

Katarina nodded, and took a sip of tea. “Then I bet she did,” she offered, “But not enough. Never enough for boys. My husband same way. Weaned too early.”

Omigod these twinges!

Melissa’s mind was beginning to swim, building in excitement. “S-so…what’s it like? Nursing?” she asked, “The babies, I mean?”

To that, Katarina smiled. “So, like, the feeling of the milk coming in is warm, thick but sexy, like a build putting you on edge. It just build up, feels heavy and on display,” she began, “Is hard to ignore, can get very uncomfortable after a while if not squeeze, pump, nurse.”

Melissa, rapt, nodded. 

“But the moment someone latches on and starts to feed,” Katarina continued, “each suck is like a short burst. Is like orgasm and washes over body in waves. You feel belly tighten and chest get light while the dziecko in your arms starts to weigh heavier. It is like…transfer of gravity, of weight, of love, and very very…how you say it? Pleasurable.”

“Oh my,” Melissa said, her tea forgotten. 

Seeing her audience so interested, Katarina continued. “It is like to be inside him and let love overwhelm him, whole act of nursing is just drowning him in you with breast practically smothering his face.” She took a long drink of her lactation tea. “If not careful, you can smother. But now your milk coating his insides, becoming part of him, you providing nice experience, relaxing experience.”

“Relaxing?”

“Ha yes for you both. Better than massage, for mamusia,” Katarina chuckled, “just lay there cradling him while he feed and matka just becoming… almost like hypnotized by the rhythm of his sucking and the waves of gentle pleasure that come each suck. Sometimes come slow, sometimes fast and…how do you call it?…needy.”

“Needy, yes,” Melissa breathed, “Omigod I’m so jealous.”

Katarina could not help the proud smile that had crinkled her dimples. She played with her mug, cradling its warmth in her hands and then looking up at Melissa. “He have some of mine, again?” she asked. 

“Yes, just last night, the last bottle.”

Katarina nodded. “You should measure him.”

“Oh god…Yeah, we did,” Melissa sighed, “Well, Randi did. She’s home with him now. She measured him just a couple hours ago.”

“Smaller?” Katarina asked, the pride shining through some more. 

“Y-yes,” Melissa responded. 

“That’s…how do you say?…hot, right?”

“So hot.”

Katarina chuckled, and pushed her mug across the table to Melisssa. “Is normal, how you feel right now,” she said, watching Melissa eye the steaming tea, “becoming mother-figure to man you love is natural. Is good step for you.”

Melissa took the tea, took another sip. 

“I swear you are not going to want to give him a solid meal ever again,” Katarina added wistfully. 

The idea of breastfeeding Jay was a true delight to Melissa. She already loved supplying him with warmth, now that his body supplied so little of it itself and he was beginning to depend on her for it. She loved making the money for them both, providing for them and giving him his allowance. She lived making his air, filling him with the oxygen of her kisses. She loved taking care of him and trying to keep him all to herself even to the point that often when they would kiss she would hold him above the ground so that the earth was no longer touching him. She would be his Earth. She loved holding him and carrying him around and cradling him so it was little wonder that the thought of being able to breastfeed him and provide all his body's nutritional needs was exceptionally exciting to her.

By this point, the urges were crackling through her like electricity. Melissa sat up, stood up, and pushed Katarina’s tea back across the table to her.  “I need a mirror,” she said, picturing the sink in the ladies’ room right before she stepped away. I’ve got some manifestations to do.

============================================

Thank you to PoisonedSugarPill for giving us a woman’s perspective on the experience of nursing. So…how do say?…helpful. And RiF for his edits. 

Next up:

[alkali1]

Belly Attendant 2: Early Labour

When you arrive at the temple you help Naia stuff her boulder-sized bump into her levitation harness. The magical garment of cloth straps and buckles gives her just enough lift to be able to waddle short distances, albeit slowly and painfully. You hold her hand and guide her back to your shared room. The contractions are starting to pick up in strength, making her moan and screw her beautiful deep brown eyes shut.

She coos in relief as you arrive back at your plush bed. You help heave her into bed and settle into the mattress divot created by her turgid womb over years of being mostly bedridden. You can tell that she's very near the absolute limit of her capacity as a surrogate; even just waddling a few hundred yards has her gasping for breath, dripping with sweat, and doing her best to massage her sore hips with her comparatively tiny hands.

You grab the large bottle of magically infused lotion and apply it to your hands. The burgeoning elf needs her belly lotioned twice a day in order to help her body handle the massive stretching needed to gestate such a tremendous brood. You start at the top of her belly, underneath her wobbling breasts, and work your way down. As you go, you can't help but pepper her movement-filled womb with kisses. When she experiences an intense contraction, you can feel her uterus straining and deforming under your fingertips.

After covering her heavily swollen baby bump in lotion, you fetch dinner for her. Helping her sit up in bed, propped up by a nest of pillows to keep her from being smothered by the weight and volume of her womb and bosom, you hold the loaded tray for her as she stuffs herself to the brim. When she's finished, you lie her down, giving her belly a long, thorough massage. After whimpering through a particularly bad contraction she croaks out "Can you please check my cervix?"

"Only a couple centimeters." you say. While feeling her progress it was obvious that the head crammed tightly into her strained cervix was extremely large. Noting your concern she says "I think it's the damn centaur foal. Stubborn little brat just had to wait an extra six months." Despite her feigned anger you can tell that she's anxious, resigned to what will surely be a very long and painful birth.

You realize this could be one of the biggest children she'd ever had to deliver. She'd birthed children of very large races, including minotaurs, ogres, and loxodon, and she'd had surrogate babies stay in up to a year past their due date, but it was rare that both occurred at once. You squeeze her hand reassuringly, petting her belly with the other. "You can do this, honey." "I know, but I don't want to." That night she sleeps fitfully, periodically awoken by contractions that get closer and closer together. In the middle of the night she wakes up to a splitting pressure in her lower back and can't get back to sleep. Her pathetic struggle to turn herself over wakes you up, and you help heave her onto her other side. You climb back into bed, spooning her, and she immediately wiggles her hips back against you while grabbing your hand and placing it on her pillowy breast. "Please," she whispers, "Help me get back to sleep." You pull down your pajamas and slowly rub your dick between her wet, swollen pussy lips, while lightly biting her shoulder. She bucks against you more and more clumsily and desperately, trying to impale herself on your cock but far too unwieldy and immobile to succeed. You insert your diamond-hard cock into her dripping cunt, so wonderfully swollen and sensitive from being on the very precipice of giving birth.

You thrust into her for nearly a quarter of an hour, making her fat hips jiggle, clutching and squeezing at her wobbling udders which drip milk onto the silken bedsheets. All the pressure bearing down on her juicy cunt has her maddeningly horny, but her buildup to orgasm keeps getting interrupted by contractions. Feeling her body squeeze around your cock makes it so hard to hold back your orgasm, but you know that her pleasure is paramount right now. Eventually she's too frustrated and out of breath to continue. "huff... get my harness on. I need to ride you." You gleefully oblige, getting her into a kneeling posture and sliding yourself underneath the behemoth sphere of her pregnant stomach. The harness is enough for her not to literally crush you, but her bump, just inches above the bed, still envelops your head and torso entirely. After some careful maneuvering you get your cock inside her, and she eagerly tries her best to ride you, despite her sore hips and back barely being able to support her crushing bulk. Unable to really bounce up and down, she instead rocks back and forth on your cock, grinding her fat hips on you while smothering you with her immense belly. You take in a mouthful of the soft layer of fat covering her underbelly and bite, leaving teeth marks and large, deep purple hickeys.

Her pleasure in this position is intense from being completely filled by your cock, and she's able to fight through the contractions and cum hard. When you feel her orgasm shuddering through her, you let loose your cum, filling her with so much that it immediately drips back down onto your groin.

You extricate yourself from beneath her bite mark covered baby bump and heave her back over onto her side. You massage her back gently until you feel her drifting off to sleep, then spoon up beside her, comforting her through the contractions. Tomorrow she's going to have an agonizing ordeal ahead of her, and you'll be there for her every step of the way.

[littlemisspascal]

Rockford & Roan Pt. 8

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: The idea of it, of this outing being classified as something more than just two roommates getting breakfast, isn’t entirely unappealing to ponder. There’s actually a tiny bit of a thrill unfurling in your stomach.

Rating: T. Heed the warnings y'all!

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, crime-solving, Princess Bride reference

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford. Reader is mentioned to have hair

Author Note: Thank you always for the kind support💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Breakfast

Rockford slips into the kitchen the next morning while you’re preparing Banjo’s food. The little mutt barely turns his head to acknowledge the man, his hunger outweighing his love of ear scritches. Your roommate’s freshly showered, curls fluffed up and slightly damp, wearing a casual waistcoat over his white button up and a pair of dark pants. He looks like a college professor, you think, setting the pet bowl on the floor for Banjo to dig into with relish. All Rockford needs are some elbow patches and he’d fit right in amongst the Ivy League elites.

He’d left last night shortly after you’d retired to bed. Like usual he didn’t stop to tell you his midnight plans, and also like usual his absence dwindled in your thoughts right up until sleep washed over you. Where does he go? What does he do? If only you could take a magnifying glass to the entire city, look for a trail or clues to follow. Knowing Rockford though, he’s too smart to leave traces behind. No, he can be a mere shadow of a human just like his brother.

“There’s a nice breakfast spot about a five minute walk from here.”

With your head half inside the fridge staring at a near-expired carton of milk, it takes a beat for you to realize the comment was directed at you. You shut the fridge door, turning to find Rockford staring at you expectantly. 

“Isn’t Inspector Dorrance coming over to pick up the suitcase?” you ask, although you have to admit, the idea of a stack of pancakes drowning in syrup sounds extremely appetizing to your empty stomach.

“Keziah may have been able to successfully substitute cigarettes with candy, but nothing on earth will ever replace his love of coffee.” Rockford sounds more amused than annoyed at the fact.“It’ll be several cups before his soonest convenience delivers him to our doorstep.”

“Well, in that case,” a grin grows on your face, “breakfast sounds wonderful.”

Stacked and Served is a bustling hive of activity when you and Rockford arrive, full of tasty smells and Fox Leap citizens eagerly tucking into their food. If dogs had been allowed, Banjo would’ve levitated off the floor due to the speed of his wagging tail. You’ll have to make it up to him when you return home with lots of belly rubs.

The interior is earthy colors, complementing shades of blues and browns, with a wooden bar lined with stools of happy customers chatting and dining. Throughout the restaurant are oversized, yet cozy-looking chairs arranged around tables, all occupied except for one marked with a reserved sign. It’s positioned next to the front window looking out at the busy city street, all walks of life beginning their days, some strolling along the sidewalks while others shout for cabs. 

Before matching with Rockford, you tended to avoid crowded places like this. All these people, all their shades of emotions, would have brought down an avalanche upon your empathy, overwhelming and suffocating. With the stability of the bond to rely on, their feelings are still detectable along the edges of your mind-gift, but no longer sharp and grating. Muffled like you’ve put on headphones. Ignorable white noise unless you choose to tune in.

Rockford makes a deadline for the reserved table immediately, gesturing for you to take the window seat before he claims the lone dark blue chair for himself. You slowly sit down, eyes flicking between your match and the sign, wondering if he’s going to acknowledge it, when a man in a flour-stained apron and marked with at least a dozen tattoos in thick black lines along his forearms steps up beside the table with a warm, delighted grin.

“Rocky,” he greets, voice deep as a canyon and booming over the encompassing chatter. The two men shake hands, clearly familiar with one another, and then you’re being given a menu that had been tucked under the man’s arm. “And you must be Roanie, yeah? Keziah said you were pretty, but seriously you’re way too gorgeous for this asshole. Do me a favor and let me know if you ever catch Kez with a smoke, alright? He’s a sneaky bastard when he wants to be and usually I’d find that hot as hell, but nothing’s attractive about cancer sticks. I’ll staple ‘em to his balls if he ever touches those damn things again.”

You blink. Once. Twice. “Um.”

The man stares back at you for a moment, blue eyes taking in your awkwardness. Then he slowly turns to Rockford, lips pursing into an unimpressed line. “You didn’t tell her who I am, did you.”

There’s no inflection in his voice. Definitely no question mark at the end.

“Even if I had, it wouldn’t change the fact you have a habit of running your mouth and making terrible first impressions,” Rockford replies, but his gaze is focused outside the cafe, sweeping the streets in search of something.

He earns a well-aimed slap to the back of his head as a result. You wince in sympathy, feeling the sharp pop of pain in sync with your match who rubs at the spot tenderly.

“Lest you forget, Rocky, I’m the one who makes your food here. Don’t tempt me to spit–” 

“So,” you pipe up, fumbling for a quick way to diffuse some of the brewing tension before it gives you a headache. “How long have you worked here…um.” It belatedly occurs to you that you’ve still yet to learn his name.

The tattooed-man takes mercy on you and offers a beaming smile just as warm as the one he’d initially approached with. Must’ve mastered it working in the food industry, you reckon. Or maybe warm and sunny is his natural temperament.

“Elio. And I’ve owned the place for…” he idly scratches the underside of his jaw, and there’s another flour stain there on the tendon of his neck, “oh just about three years now almost. It became mine after dear old Rocky here helped me prove to the police my old boss was skimming the cash register. Our paths should’ve split after that except then he went and introduced me to the love of my life.” His smile changes at the corners. Softens. A feeling sugary sweet and wispy flutters above your empathy, and you don’t need to bring it into focus to know it’s love.

“Introduce is a strong word,” Rockford interjects wryly. “As I recall, you saw him across the room and immediately lit up like a glow stick. I was then forced to explain to Kez you weren’t a criminal trying to escape incarceration by blinding the entire force.”

“Still ended up in handcuffs later that night.” Elio winks, but it’s the teasing, faint pulse of glowing skin that surprises you more. Reminds you of fireflies you used to see in fields back in your hometown. 

“On that appetizing note,” Rockford grimaces, but there’s nothing but amusement coloring his mood, “think you could whip us up two stacks of your specialty pancakes? It’s Roan’s first time here.”

“Oh, a first timer! My favorite kind of customer!” Elio presses a hand to his chest, looking absolutely thrilled at the news. He steals the unread menu back from your hand quicker than you can process. “Leave the food to me. And I’ll see if I can find a candle or something for the table–make this date a little more romantic.”

All you can do is sputter at that, choking on your own spit as the man scurries away.

Date? 

This isn’t–

You didn’t think–

No. No way. You fiddle with the silverware, thoughts spinning, unable to bring yourself to look at your match quite yet. A quick check of Rockford’s mood reveals he’s unruffled by the remark, not even the faintest blip resembling the line of exclamation marks running through your head. Does that mean you’re overreacting? Underreacting? 

If this really was a date, you would like to think you’d know that with absolute, 100% certainty. Surely you’re not that oblivious, or so you tell yourself, at least. So, with that in mind, Elio was mistaken with his labeling. This is definitely not a date. 

Still. The idea of it, of this outing being classified as something more than just two roommates getting breakfast, isn’t entirely unappealing to ponder. There’s actually a tiny bit of a thrill unfurling in your stomach.

Or that could just be hunger pangs.

Definitely plausible.and a lot less complicated to analyze.

You give your head a little shake, finally summoning the nerve to glance at Rockford. Except, low and behold, he’s looking out the window. Again. Not out of avoidance of your attention, no, you can tell by the roaming of his eyes taking note of every passing figure he’s keenly searching for something out there he wants to find real bad. 

Your patience runs out five minutes later after another waiter has dropped off a pot of coffee and a glass bottle of water for the table.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, pouring yourself a drink and taking a sip.

“We know now our killer abducts his villains,” Rockford answers without preamble. “He drives them to secluded, private spots where they swallow the cyanide. But there’s been no reports of abductions, no witnesses of suspicious behavior, which suggests the victims go with him willingly. They don’t put up a fight.”

“Maybe he’s got a weapon?” you suggest, resting your chin on your knuckles. “Tells them if they scream he’ll shoot?”

“Perhaps,” is his preoccupied mumble, still looking outside, lost in his head. 

Outside, the street is still full of commotion. A gray-headed businessman carries his briefcase in one hand and the morning paper in the other. Farther down the way, a pair of women point at something in one of the antique shop windows. Everybody’s got places to be, things to do. Oblivious to the dangerous predator skulking about.

Goosebumps rise up along your arms, like ice has found a way under your skin, imagining the killer out there right now. Hidden in plain sight, watching the goings-on. Hunting their next victim.

The pot of coffee goes cold. Untouched.

The Reason

Elio’s whistling when he brings the pancake stacks to the table. They’re golden, fluffy, and fucking huge, almost as round as the whole plate with a fat square of butter on top. He brings a candle with him too, which you studiously ignore, focusing instead on cutting off a small bite with your fork and dipping it in a cup of syrup.

“Ohmygod,” you utter around your mouthful, manners forgotten in the wake of tasting pure deliciousness. Elio looks very pleased with him, puffing out his chest as you all but inhale another bite. “It’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” Elio says, eyes crinkling. “Wanna know the secret ingredient? Self-confidence in oneself.”

“More like an extra helping of cinnamon sprinkled in,” Rockford says, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Oh hush!” Elio swats at his arm without heat, clearly holding back a chuckle. “Enjoy the food guys. On the house.”

You spare a moment to swallow and thank him properly before he leaves. These pancakes really just might be the best thing you’ve ever eaten in your whole life, your mother’s famous triple chocolate cake officially bumped to second place.

Your fork scrapes against the plate as you cut off another bite-sized piece to soak in the syrup. Tastes like rich maple on your tongue, a faint hint of vanilla when you lick your lips. You glance at Rockford, wondering if he’s going to ignore the food the same as he did the coffee, but you watch as the man rolls up one of the pancakes like one would a poster or a rug, delicate and precise. Three bites, that’s all it takes. Three bites to devour the entire fucking thing without even a single drop of syrup. 

“Something on your mind, Roan?” he wonders, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. 

Blinking out of your mildly horrified daze, you start to shake your head no, but stop yourself. Truth is there is something on your mind. And it’s not the efficient way he consumes pancakes or where in the city the killer will strike next. 

“You don’t sleep at home.” It feels a little strange (and a little scary), to voice the concern that’s been a thorn ingrained in your thoughts since the first week you moved to 445D Albatross Lane. Hard to say if it was the change of scenery or good food that gave you the needed boost of confidence to finally bring it up. Perhaps it was both.

Rockford frowns, initial surprise shifting into a narrow-eyed wariness. There’s a change in his posture too, a subtle straightening of his spine you only notice because you’re watching him intently. “You noticed that, huh?”

“It’s kind of hard not to,” you admit with a small shrug. “I feel the absence of your emotions when you leave at night. You also don’t ever nap around the apartment either.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while.” It’s an observation, not a question.

“Yes,” you answer slowly, uncomfortably aware of the sudden sensation of walking on thin-ice. “I’ve been worried. Thought maybe…” You bite the inside of your cheek, warring with yourself over how much to reveal, but you’ve already come this far might as well take it to the finish line, “I thought maybe you didn’t trust me enough to fall asleep when I’m nearby.”

God, it sounds so stupid said out loud, doesn’t it?

Sure enough, Rockford is as blunt as ever when he confirms, “That’s total bullshit. We share a home, Roan. Of course I trust you.”

“Then where do you go at night?” You look at him, trying to understand if it’s not about trust then what is it about? “Do you have a secret girlfriend I don’t know about?”

That earns you a sharp bark of laughter, head thrown back and dimples out in full force. “A girlfriend? No. Not really my area.”

Oh.

A short pause follows, reassembling your thoughts.

“Okay,” you say, chewing your bottom lip. “So, do you have a secret boyfriend then?”

Rockford arches an eyebrow, and it’s deliberate, you can tell it is, the way he nudges your empathy. Judgy and bemused all at once.

“It’s totally fine if you do.” You hold up your hands, fork aimed at the ceiling, a defensive gesture that has Rockford’s other eyebrow rising to join the other, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“I know it’s fine.”

“So you do have a boyfriend then?”

“No, Roan.” He shakes his head, a low grumble. “I don’t have anybody. Not looking for anybody either. Relationships like that, they’re a distraction to my work.”

That settles it then, you realize with a faint sinking feeling. Definitely not a date.

“But what about when the work’s over?” you ask softly.

“The work’s never over.”

You frown, something awfully painful pinching in the center of your chest when his emotions don’t waver. He honestly believes that notion, as true a fact as water is wet. “Alright,” you murmur, reluctantly deciding not to push the subject further. “Explain it to me, please. Why don’t you sleep at home?” 

“Because I can’t,” is Rockford’s succinct response doing absolutely nothing to clear up your confusion. “My gift won’t let me.”

Your fork slips from your fingers with a clatter, tongue tripping over words, “Wh-what? How does that even–? People die if they don’t sleep.”

He wags a finger in the air. “That’s actually incredibly rare–”

“Rockford.”

“My brain is in a constant state of perception, absorbing information from my senses and my environment,” your match tries to explain, his eyes settling on the coffee pot with a disgruntled glare like it’s personally offensive. “I can’t fall asleep like a regular person. Getting the rest I need requires locking myself in a sensory deprivation tank. There’s a health center with one not far from our apartment. I've been going there for years.”

“That’s where you go every night?” you ask, eyes widening in surprise.

Rockford toys with his napkin, avoiding your gaze. “No. Not always,” he admits, sheepishness creeping into his voice, clouding his aura. “I really do have chronic insomnia, that wasn’t a lie. Sometimes I go to the police station, point out the flaws in their filing system. Or during exam period, I spend the night at Rosasharn’s when she’s up to her eyeballs grading papers to keep her company. Usually though I set myself up at one of the dozens of twenty-four hour cafes in the city with my laptop or a good book and hang out until sunrise.”

“You…” You blink at him, completely thrown for a loop. “Seriously, you'd rather spend the night at a twenty-four hour cafe than your own home? Good lord, Rockford, why?”

“You deserve to sleep peacefully, Roan. And you can't do that with my emotions keeping you awake,” he answers. His voice is soft, yet the words slice through you all the same, boring straight into your heart.

The reason for his leaving is the same reason Rockford had separated himself from you at the crime scene. Your empathy is deeply attuned to the ebbs and flows of his emotions, the bond growing stronger with each day he allows you full, unhindered access to his mind. Dozing for a half hour on the couch in his presence is one thing, when the afternoon sunlight’s bathing the living room in streaks of gold and your empathy keeps watch. Operating on its own battery. A side effect of spending too much time behind enemy lines.

Nights are different. The battery must recharge, weary from the day’s strain of processing, filtering, blocking on loop, or else risk incurring migraines. But in the darkness, the thin line between dream and reality becomes blurred, sometimes indistinguishably so. In the service, surrounded by fellow soldiers witnessing the same horror and traumas, nightmares were commonplace. Creeping out of their mindscapes into your own, twisted horror scenes absorbed by your psyche as if it were a sponge soaking up water.

Worse were the nights your nightmares unintentionally became theirs. 

You had tried to contain your empathy on nights where there was blood in your hair, under your nails, hell, you could taste it on your teeth. Chain your mind-gift up in a corner same as a mad dog. Dr. Odair hadn’t been pleased when you told her, dropping her perfect mask of poise and professionalism to level you with a look. She told you tactics like that caused unseen damage, a tipped over domino in the chain reaction leading to the necessity of matching to prevent your own self-destruction.

Shutting off your empathy isn’t a healthy solution, and neither is Rockford blocking you from feeling his emotions. Yesterday’s misunderstanding proved how much you both rely on the bond’s stability. To cut it off night after night…it feels dangerous even contemplating it, heart lodged in your throat.

Doesn’t come close to the guilt pressing down on your rib cage though, threatening to crush you from the inside out. Rockford’s been putting your needs first, uncaring that doing so means being driven out of his own home. And he’s been doing it every night all because of your specific mind-gift.

“It’s ok,” Rockford says, a steadiness to his voice you’re envious of, and he reaches out his hand across the table towards your own. You don’t know if it’s his perception that tells him you’ll shatter under his gentle touch or if you’re subconsciously broadcasting your tumult, but either way something makes him stop before he makes contact. “I don’t mind. Honestly.”

There’s something magnetic about the mere centimeters of space separating your fingertips from his, unable to tear away your stare. “You should,” your voice miraculously doesn’t tremble like a leaf, “it isn’t fair.”

All Rockford has to reply to that is, “Life isn’t fair, Roan. It’s just fairer than death, that’s all.”

For a second time you feel his unwavering belief in his own words. And you could leave it be, let the moment pass. Nothing changes if nothing changes, your mother used to always say. 

Rockford starts to pull back his hand, only for you to latch onto his wrist. Your grip isn’t tight, you both know he can easily slip free if he wants to.  

You both know he doesn’t.

“I’ll find a way.”

He blinks, the slightest tilt of his head.

“I’ll find a way so you can stay,” you vow. "Everything will work out one way or another."

And Rockford smiles, lopsided and dimpled, warmth pressing against your empathy expressing more gratitude than speaking out loud could ever manage. 

“Better finish your breakfast,” he says, returning to the art of pancake rolling, ignoring the disturbed wrinkling of your nose at him. “You’ll break Elio’s heart if you don’t clean your plate.”

[binsar-farms]

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[babybluebex]

may i ask you for a fluff story with joe? i feel very lonely and have cried my eyes out, because my exams drain me and i’m fully exhausted, i’m doing my best to not forget eating and staying hydrated. i have crippling anxiety disorder. i’m a girl with disability, so my spine hurts out of the pressure.

can you write some blurb or fluff about joey taking care of me? <3 like making a cuppa of tea, hugging me, reassuring that he loves me and I will make it. i would be beyond thankful!!

oh darling i am so sorry to hear that you're having a hard time :( i hope this will help a little bit

He could tell that you were nearing your limit. You had practically locked yourself up in your office under the guise of studying for exams, but Joseph was starting to think that something else was happening in that room. You hardly came out, only when Joseph asked; you only ate when he delivered you a plate of food; and he tried to pretend that he couldn't hear you crying every so often. If you wanted to talk about it, you would, and he knew that, but he was a worry-wart and his heart hurt.

Finally, as he was getting ready for bed, he decided that enough was enough. He put the kettle on as he washed up after dinner, and he waited impatiently as it boiled and came to a whistle. He remembered exactly how you took your tea— a splash of milk, one spoonful or sugar, brewed endlessly until it was a deep, dark brown. For added love and comfort, he plated up your favorite biscuits, the ones with a thin layer of chocolate on them, and he carried the after-dinner snack to your office. Joseph lightly rapped on the closed door with his knuckles, and he said, "Darling? Are you awake?"

There was movement inside your office, and a sniffle, and the door opened slowly to show you. Joseph frowned at the state of you, your rumpled trackies and tear-stained face, and he stepped inside past you. There was in fact your study materials scattered around, pens and highlighters and textbooks, mountains of revisions, your computer open but abandoned. "Figured you could use a cuppa," Joseph said softly, settling the plate and mug on your desk. "I've missed you today."

"Missed you too," you mumbled, and Joseph's heart clenched in his chest. "But I've had so much work—"

"I know, it's okay," Joseph said. "C'mere, I want a hug."

"I need to—" you started, but Joseph shook his head.

"No, you don't," he said quickly. "It's time for bed, you can study more tomorrow."

"Joe, I need to finish," you protested, and Joseph only shook his head again and reached forward to slip his hands into your sweatshirt pocket. He drew you close to him, wrapping his arms fully around you, and he began to slowly rub your lower back, right where the ache persisted, and your complaints died on your tongue at the relief from pain. Your knees felt weak and you fell into Joseph's chest, and, as soon as you felt his warmth and smelled his warm cigarette scent, your tears began to really fall. "I'm so worried that I'll fail!" you sobbed, holding him tightly, and Joseph shushed you gently, squeezing you firmly. "I-I can't fail, baby, I just can't, and I'm so hungry and tired, but I need to study!"

"Please calm down," Joseph whispered, and you could tell that his throat was tight, near tears himself. "Come, sit down, eat a biscuit. I think your blood sugar is probably low and making you feel worse."

"Wanna lay down," you sighed, and Joseph kissed your head. He took up the plate of biscuits and the cup of tea, and he followed you like a little puppy to the bedroom. You sank into the mattress and sniffled, curling up on yourself, and Joe set the stuff down on your bedside table and laid down next to you. He stroked your arm and kissed your cheek, and he said softly, "Sit up, eat a biscuit."

You did as he asked, reaching out and taking the biscuit into your hand, and you nibbled on it as you gazed listlessly at the wall, trying to calm down. Joe continued to rub your back as he watched you, and he softly said, "I love you, my smart girl. You're gonna pass your exams with flying colors. You're gonna get the highest marks in the class, I know it. You're gonna make it through."

"But what if I don't?" you mumbled.

"But what if you do?" Joe pressed. "Darling, you're gonna do this perfectly, you've been studying so hard and I love you. You're so much smarter than me— fuck, I'm hopeless— but you're going to do amazingly, I have no doubt in my mind. And then when you've written your exams and passed with the highest marks, I'll take you to a nice dinner and celebrate how strong you are. Alright? Does that sound like a promise?"

You nodded, and you crawled over to Joe, settling yourself between his legs and nestling your head in the crook of his neck. He kissed your forehead and rubbed your lower back, and he said, "Now, let's watch something funny and get a laugh outta you. Wanna watch I Think You Should Leave?" You nodded quietly, reaching out for the cup of tea and sipping at it carefully, and Joe reached for the television remote, making sure to keep you in his grip. He pressed his chin into the top of your head and sighed, and he said, "I love you. Don't forget that."

[enkas-illusion]

About My Man - Part 2/5

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Choso x f!reader, Suguru x f!reader

Rating: SFW - but the next parts won’t be so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: Fluff, language

Chapter Summary: A tale of three lovers and a series of unfortunate incidents. Your heart’s a mess in this tug of war where kindling romance is fizzled before it has a chance to bloom.

Author’s Note: I love writing this shit so much dksbgsbgzgndgbjabgr!!! Hope you enjoyed reading it just as much.

~ Eren’s Birdie

Part 1 | Part 3

Song Dedication: Almost Is Never Enough by Ariana Grande & Nathan Sykes

“Hi stranger… Do you remember me?” he smiles at you.

It takes a few seconds for your words to actually escape your throat, “Of course I do, Suguru.”

The slight caution in his eyes dissipates upon hearing your words. He takes a step closer, a little too close for someone who's supposed to be an ‘estranged friend’.

Invading your space and looking down at you, he delivers a joke that reeks of arrogance, “Right, it's hard to forget someone like me.”

You see a glimpse of the guy you once knew, still feeling a weird churning sensation in your stomach as you turn on your heels to face the door again without returning his smile. 

The key unlocks your door without much trouble this time. You open the door wide, step to the side and look at him once again. He calmly walks in and you close the door behind him.

“So, what brings you here? How did you even find my address?” You ask as you lead him to the sofa, dropping your gym bag to its side.

“Damn, not even gonna ask me for a coffee or something?” he snickers.

You almost roll your eyes before playing along to get this over with quickly, “Sure… would you like some coffee?”

“Sure,” he smiles as he plops down in the centre of the sofa.

“Black? Or with milk?” You keep your questions short.

He smiles as he looks at you, who's trying the hardest to maintain a stoic face and avoid eye contact, “Don't you remember what I like?”

“Nope,” you give him a smile that can be better described as forcibly stretching one’s face muscles.

“Ouch,” his playful tone doesn't waver, “Plain milk, without sugar… just like your mom used to make for me.”

“Okay, be right back,” you speed walk into the kitchen. You make two cups of coffee and put them in the microwave as you slouch over the counter, almost collapsing completely.

My god… get a grip!

You rub your hands over your face, lightly slapping your cheeks a few times to snap out of it. With the beep of the microwave, you decide to be civil to the man sitting outside, no matter how annoyed you may feel.

You grab the two cups and walk out into the living room, placing his cup on the table in front of the sofa. He scoots to one side to make space for you but you settle down on the chair that's further away from his end.

He grabs the cup and scoots to the end near you nonetheless. You don't react. You simply blow on the steam emitting from your mug before taking a sip.

There's awkward silence as he looks at you. You don't look at him but you can feel him looking at you. 

You simply concentrate on your coffee and take one sip. Then another. Then another. Then ano–

“Can you stop it?” He interrupts finally. When you look at him, the crease on his forehead disappears as soon as it arrives, no hint of irritation visible.

“Stop what? Drinking coffee?” You ask plainly as you take another sip.

“Why are you acting like this? As if I’m a total stranger?” He asks, sincerity in his voice. 

“Because we are strangers. I don't know you… anymore,” you answer, holding his gaze.

“No, we’re old friends who just drifted apart,” he states matter-of-factly. 

“Easy for you to say,” you snort.

“What does that mean?” He pokes, his calm voice irritating you beyond measure.

Don't do it. Don't say it. Just don't. Contro–

“Well of course it's no big deal for you! You crushed me when we left for college. I cried over you for like six damn months and then moved on like normal people do. And now you're here like nothing’s wrong and talking to me as if we're old buddies for whatever reason! Suguru, I couldn’t care less about you but it's your fake serenity that's annoying the shit out of me,” you speak in one breath.

Suguru is caught off guard for the first time during your entire conversation. And for the first time today, a rancid feeling seeps in his heart – maybe you two really have turned into strangers in the last 5 years.

“Right, I'm sorry,” he says without knowing what exactly he's sorry for. You wait for him to continue so he does, “I guess I just wanted to start again on good terms since we're gonna be neighbours.”

Your eyes almost pop out of their socket as you almost yell, “I'm sorry, what?”

“Oh,” he smiles awkwardly as he puts two and two together in his head, “I guess you haven't spoken to your mom recently. Since I got a job in the city, I was looking for a place to live. My mom told your mom about it and she gave me the contact number of your landlord… he owns the apartment next to this one as well.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to say, stunned at the massive dump of new information.

“Umm… I was hoping we could start off on the right note? Be friends again perhaps?” he hesitates. 

“Right… welcome neighbour,” you smile and reduce the hostility in your voice. Figuring out your confused state of emotions can wait until after he's out of your house.

You hear a door unlock as your roommate walks out of her room in her pyjamas. 

“Good morning, babygurlll,” she says to you in her baby voice, rubbing her eyes, unaware of Suguru’s presence.

Yet when he turns around to look at her, she's stupefied by his beauty (understandably so). Unwillingly tearing her eyes off of him, she looks at you for answers.

“This is Suguru, my old friend and apparently our new neighbour,” you speak, still in disbelief, “and that's Luna, my roommate and best friend.”

“Ah, so you’re the one to replace me?” He jokes, flashing his pearly whites to her.

You clear your throat at this and he turns to look at you. The calm serenity restored in his eyes.

“I'll get going now. See you around neighbour,” he drinks his now cold coffee in one chug before getting up. You lead him to the door.

“Yup. Bye,” you say as you close the door without returning his smile.

You walk back in and Luna almost sprints to get closer to you.

“Can you believe this guy?” You whisper. 

“THAT'S Suguru?!” Luna's voice is too loud for a whisper, “Holy shit, he's hot!”

“Right,” you stare into nothingness as you contemplate life all over again… but before that, you had to call your mother and scold her for playing cupid with the wrong person.

~~~

You don’t dare step out of the house for the rest of the day, avoiding Suguru as if he were the plague. At least till you rationalised the whole situation in your brain, it was the right thing to do – or so you told yourself.

Choso and Satoru arrive on time for a change, but only because the latter got hungry and wanted to devour the pizzas as soon as possible. You ban him from touching the food, wanting everyone to eat together since Maki was only 15 minutes away.

“Then can I at least have those biscuits you baked last week?” Satoru pouts.

“Fineeee, wait here,” you roll your eyes at him as you leave to fetch the cookies for blondie.

Choso calmly follows you into the kitchen.

“Been busy?” he asks as you grab the cookie container from one of the overhead shelves.

“Hmm?” you turn to look at him.

“In the morning you hung up so abruptly, I figured you’d be busy, but then you didn't text me all day.”

“Sorry, it slipped my mind,” you sigh.

“All good? I was kinda worried for a sec… not much though,” he teases.

Your brain freezes for a second when you remember the events of the morning. You hesitate before speaking, “No, just… exhausted.”

He nods.

“Why? Missed me?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

“And what if I say yes?” he retorts, folding his hands over his chest.

“Then I’d say, I'm right in front of you. You’ve got no reason to miss me,” you tease back.

“Hmmm, what about the…” he mumbles, concentrating on his maths, “ten whole hours since the morning?”

All you can do is blush. How do you even respond when your legs feel like jelly, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms?

“Well, no worries, you can just make it up to me now,” he answers his own question, moving closer to you with a smile.

“Sure, this should do it,” you open the box and bring a cookie up to his mouth, which he bites into oh-so-delicately. You try not to stare at his lips shamelessly as you look down to close the lid.

“I doubt it. The more you feed me, the more I keep craving,” he sighs with a delighted smile, “Is this your plan to get me addicted?”

“I can bake as many cookies as you want,” you smile back at him sincerely.

“Mmhm?” Choso moves closer, caging you against the counter, “So you do plan to get me addicted…”

Choso leans impossibly closer to you – so close that you feel his soft breath against your cheek. You break eye contact to look down at his lips, bringing a hand up to rub off the tiny bit of cookie crumble from the corner of his mouth. He brings his hand up against yours to tightly intertwine your fingers, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“Are cookies really the worst thing to be addicted to?” you almost whisper, feeling the butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach.

You close your eyes when he nudges his nose against yours. You feel his soft breath fanning your lips as he whispers back, “Nope, just another excuse to be near yo–”

“I’M STARVING!” you hear an encroaching shriek, abruptly pushing Choso away just in time for Satoru to find you both standing in the middle of the kitchen like two deers stuck in headlights.

“I-I couldn’t remember where I’d kept it,” you stutter your way through the unnecessary lie as you extend the container out to Satoru.

He grins as he grabs it from you, “I’m calling dibs on whatever’s left in here.”

He takes a step to the exit and then looks back at you both again, “What are you guys waiting for? Maki’s here, let’s have dinner.”

You nod as Satoru walks out, about to follow behind when Choso grabs you by the arm and you feel embarrassment shoot through your every nerve. You turn around to look at him and he takes you by surprise when his soft lips gently land on your cheek. You place your hands over his chest to steady your racing heart.

“Choso,” you whisper as he leans down to rest his forehead against yours. He whispers your name back, his hands cupping your cheeks. You stare at the way he licks his lips on instinct and you crane your neck up as your hands scrunch the fabric of his t-shirt.

He teases you – so close, yet not closing the half-inch gap. His intoxicated eyes look into yours as one of his thumbs rubs over your bottom lip before tugging it open slightly. You hear him cuss a light ‘fuck’ as his patience wears thin. Your lips almost touch and you feel goosebumps prick all over your skin.

“GUYSSSS BEER!” you hear the same annoying voice howling from the living room, startling you.

You feel your skin grow hot like lava under Choso’s touch but he’s moving away before you get a chance to melt completely. The silence is so loud that you don’t miss the sigh of disappointment Choso lets out, one he had been holding in since the moment Satoru had first interrupted.

“I’ll take these outside,” he sighs, running his fingers through his hair in frustration, grabbing the bag of beer cans from the counter.

“I’ll get a– water,” you point towards the fridge and he nods before leaving you alone in the kitchen. You quickly turn on the sink to splash some cold water on your face. With a few deep breaths, you fix your appearance, grab the chilled bottles and walk out to join the group in the living room.

The minute you settle down, everyone basically inhales the slices. Once again, you and Choso are one clueless-blonde-friend distance away, who sits comfortably on the sofa, separating the two of you. Throughout the dinner, you catch Choso stealing glances at you because you’re busy doing the same thing, your eyes trying to find him subconsciously. 

When Satoru extends a hand out for the last slice, Choso slaps his hand away to grab it instead.

“Mine,” Choso mumbles, taking a bite of the piece he already has in one hand. It makes you giggle.

“Hey! How can you be so ungrateful? I’m your best friend!” Satoru complains.

“Have my beer… I don’t care for it,” Choso tilts his head to the unopened can on the coffee table.

“You’re forgiven,” Gojo is quick to grab it, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa.

“Wow, I’m full. What about everyone else?” Luna wonders out loud.

“I’d love some ice cream!” Maki squeals.

“Nah, I’m done too,” you sigh as you rest your head back, “Check in the fridge, maybe there’s some chocochip left.”

Maki’s faster than lightning as she quickly returns from the kitchen with the ice cream container, “There’s not much left here, maybe for two people.”

The doorbell rings. Luna gets up to answer it.

“You can have it if you want! No worries…” your voice trails off when you see Suguru enter behind Luna. 

Why the fuck can I not catch a break today?

“Hi,” Suguru smiles at you, almost ignoring everyone else.

“What are you doing here?” you didn’t mean for it to sound so rude but when Luna shoots you a look as if to say behave, you soften the frown on your face.

“I just finished unpacking and I was getting bored so I wondered if we could hang out,” Suguru explains himself, “but since you’ve got company, I better leave–”

“Are you the new neighbour? I noticed the lights were on when we arrived,” Maki asks.

“Yes,” he smiles at her, “that’s me.”

“Cool, what’s your name, neighbour?” Satoru’s next.

“I’m Suguru Geto,” the minute the words escape Suguru’s mouth, it feels as if the air changes and gets heavier… Okay, even if that might be an exaggeration, what Satoru says next might’ve just given you an embarrassing memory that’ll haunt you forever for the rest of your life.

“Suguru?” Satoru squeals, connecting the dots served to him on a silver platter, “Aww, that’s so cute! Did you really move here cause you missed your girl so much?” 

You see a faint crease form on Suguru’s forehead in confusion that further deepens when his eyes meet your petrified ones. 

“Suguru, would you like some beer?” you get up abruptly, making your way to the kitchen without waiting for an answer. He nods anyway, taking the hint as he follows behind you till you reach the kitchen.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you turn to face him as you mumble, “So, this is kinda embarrassing…”

“Does your friend know me?” Suguru questions calmly.

“Right, this is going to sound crazy but I have a valid reason,” you explain.

Suguru leans against the counter, an amused smile starting to form in the corner of his lips, he knows he’s going to enjoy this.

“Right… you saw the black haired guy outside?” you ask and he nods. You continue, “I kinda like him… well, a lot.”

“Like you used to like me,” he smiles smugly.

“Like I don’t anymore…” you glare at him but realise you might need his help so your eyes soften again, “Anyway, I was too scared to confess to him and when he asked me if I was seeing anyone, I sort of ended up lying that I had a long-distance boyfriend back home.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, pointing his index finger to his own chest, “Me?”

You simply nod.

“So I’m your pretend boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend.” you clarify.

“Right…” he contemplates, “But I’m here now.”

“Yup, that’s the problem. We’re supposed to be broken up cause you couldn’t handle long distance… hence blondie made that comment earlier,” you add.

“Hey, I can handle long distance shit! I’m not one to give up so easily,” he sounds offended.

“Right, when it’s someone you really like,” you snide.

In your desperation, you’d forgotten to realise how pathetic this seems. As much as you want to save yourself from this embarrassment, Suguru doesn’t owe you shit. He broke your heart once upon a time and you got over it long ago. It’s over, there’s no point in acting like a stubborn child and then feeling entitled to his help when you’ve been nothing but hostile towards him since the morning.

You take a deep breath to speak in a calmer manner this time, “Obviously you’re not obligated to play along. I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”

“This is so odd. I can’t figure you out,” he folds his hands to his chest, tilting his head slightly, “I felt like shit in the morning – it’s like you’re an entirely different person now, yet I keep seeing glimpses of the old you I knew so well.”

“People change. I’m sure you have too... look, no hard feelings, you’re allowed to walk out and say whatever you want, I won’t hold it against you,” you speak with a formal smile. He notices there’s no venom in your words and smiles at you.

“Okay… I’ll be your long lost, long-distance boyfriend… and it’s only cause you’re someone I really like,” he repeats your previous accusation.

“Ex-boyfriend,” you remind him again.

“Well, then we better get out before they start wondering if we’ve rekindled our romance,” he grins as he ruffles your hair before walking out, leaving you alone in the kitchen. 

Your shoulders slump as you sigh. You grab a can of beer from the fridge before regaining your composure to follow him out quickly. You hand the can to Suguru and he enjoys it throughout the whole ordeal.

Suguru is surprisingly civil throughout the entire conversation with your friends. He had a smooth lie for every invasive question Satoru bombarded him with.

“So, will you guys get back together now that distance is no longer an issue?” Satoru asks with heart-eyes and eager for gossip. Choso, who had gone quiet since Suguru arrived, looks at you.

“Who knows–” 

“No!” you interrupt Suguru’s answer, which somehow seems directed at Choso as you hold his gaze. You look at Suguru, who’s sitting on the chair you had dragged out from your room, and make another excuse, “We’ve decided to be just friends now.”

“But exes can’t be friends,” Choso speaks up for the first time since Suguru's arrival.

“Sure they can… we’ve been best friends before we started dating. We’ll be fine,” Suguru defends.

There’s an awkward silence in the air. Luna again comes to the rescue, “Guys, let’s start the movie? Or we won’t be able to sleep till late.”

“It’s Sunday tomorrow anyway,” Satoru groans.

“No, let’s begin. I’ll get the popcorn,” you answer as you make your way to the kitchen for the umpteenth time. This time you manage to get out without another breakdown-inducing incident.

When you come out with the popcorn, Suguru’s already leaving, excusing himself as he was too tired to stay for the movie. You lead him out the door and exchange no more than polite ‘good night’s. 

As Luna presses play on the TV remote and Maki turns off the lights in the room, you successfully manage to sit next to Choso on the sofa with Satoru on his other side.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” Choso turns his head to look at you. With uncertainty in your eyes, you smile at him. In the dim light emitted through the TV screen, you see him smile back at you, but for the first time, you can’t tell if it’s sincere. You slowly rest your head on his shoulder – if this was the night you’d lose the guy you really liked cause you were too chicken to do anything about it then you might as well savour every minute of it. Choso relaxes his shoulders, allowing you to rest more comfortably. 

You don’t remember when you fell asleep during the movie but you wake up when you feel movement around you. 

You get up off the sofa, squinting your eyes at the lights being too bright, “Where’s everyone?”

“They left a few minutes ago,” Luna says as she finishes cleaning up the cans and boxes.

“Did Choso say anything?” you ask. 

Luna shakes her head, “Nope.”

You touch your forehead, feeling as if your head will burst anytime. Luna calls out your name and you look at her. 

“Go to sleep. Don’t think too much,” she smiles at you. You nod and make your way to your room. Overthinking could wait till the morning.

~to be continued~

[elderberries-and-honey]

𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 "𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘦" 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥

Dear Marmee,

The bitter cold crept in slowly at first but there is no denying winter has arrived here in Wales. Everything is now covered in a sheet of white snow.

Every morning, I wake before the rooster's crow. Our friend Beth has moved in with us and she enjoys knitting very much. She has knitted me two new sweaters before Christmas has even come and they keep me much warmer than my worn-out coat from last Winter. It's a good thing too 'cause there's still much to be done on our farm, though I've made a rather decent amount of progress.

Even so, we hardly had any remaining produce leftover for ourselves after selling what I was able to salvage from our terrible blight. I won't burden you too much with our troubles but things have been rough here for us and I know Winifred is silently troubling herself over it.

You mentioned Jo is trying to get published? Please let me know how that goes for her. I think it might just inspire Winifred who is still glued to her typewriter whenever she has the time to write.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely, Lawrence

Dear Marmee,

I'm sorry to hear Jo was turned down in her quest to get published. Hopefully it won't discourage her from trying. Have you heard from Amy in Paris? How are Meg and Mr. Brooks? How does Beth like teaching piano?

Many of our animals, including the thorn in my side, Frank the Goose, passed on near the end of November. Without their eggs and milk to sell, money is tighter than ever.

Winifred has begun fretting over how we will make a good Christmas for Ozzy. So I've started working at the pub again to help us make it through the rest of winter and afford a few gifts for him. I'm struggling to come up with an idea on what to get Winifred, after all, how could I top her typewriter? If you have any ideas, please include them in your next letter.

Ozzy is doing quite well, thank you for asking. He likes to "help" me on the farm but mostly he enjoys playing in the snow with the garden shovels and trying to escape to our small pond. You would not believe the tantrums he throws when I have to wrangle him away from the edge. I can almost understand how my Father felt when I was a boy and he would paddle my bottom. The boy is like a fish the way he enjoys the water! Even bathtime seems to be his favorite part about bedtime.

It was a struggle to get him out of his crib and into a real bed but we needed to complete the transition before our new little one arrives. With Beth here to teach us patience, I can proudly declare we have finally succeeded.

Sincerely, Lawrence

Dear Marmee,

We're approaching our due date rather quickly, a little under 3 months now. Millie has been staying with Louise for the Winter (and giving her free cooking lessons) after agreeing to stay and help Winifred deliver the baby, which I'm thankful for. I know this is a huge relief for Winifred. Her last delivery was not without complications and I know she grows uneasy the closer we get.

I know Winifred believes the baby will be a girl but I have my own suspicions we will welcome another son. I'm not wholly certain I could handle another little girl after we lost Flora. Not yet, rather. The pain of losing a child never truly leaves, does it?

I did not mean to ignore your inquiry over how I'm fairing. I must keep a courageous face for my family, and consequently I've grown used to wearing my mask of gallantry. Since you so kindly asked though, I will admit that I am a little worn down as of late.

I spend long hours tending the farm and go to work even longer hours in the pub. Valerie, good hearted as she is, is not the best co-worker, often drinking herself stupid before the nights out. I suppose it's true what they say about you Irish folk.

Most of my trouble comes from myself, I suppose. I watched my father save this very farm many times over and I should want to do the same. But with every plant that refused to sprout, I found myself resentful over having ever inherited it.

I think of my wife, the writer, the poet, and how she is able to read Ozzy her stories. I think of Jackson with his pub, and his son, Patrick, who's becoming a doctor, and you with your bookshop. Even my father who provided my mother and I with food, and a roof over our heads because he cared for the farm so tenderly. All of you, with such passion.

Even if I was as passionate as my father, the farming industry is changing. All these extravagant advancements are putting farmers out of work all over. If the farm were to go under, what would I do? It's all I've ever known.

If I don't have time to write before Christmas Day - I hope you have a Merry Christmas. Send my love to your girls and wish them the same for me as well.

Sincerely, Lawrence

P.S. Don't be cross with me for the joke, I only say it in jest. The Irish could drink me under the table any day of the week and sing a merry tune whilst doing so which is rather remarkable.

next / previous / first

[adallegra]

At breakfast, you notice Vetiti at the Hufflepuff table, staring intently at Sebastian and his Niffler while sliding a long piece of butter into his mouth. The churned cream leaving the corners of his mouth all greasy.

Her morning post had just been delivered. Allegra’s hand tightened around her cup of tea, which she had recently and uncharacteristically taken to drinking black. She stared at the slim piece of parchment, jaw set hard before she took one calming breath and set the note alight.

Despite watching the edges of the parchment coil and blacken into ashes, the anger that had swelled did not subside. It was as if he was right there — her father’s ever-disinterested voice in her ear as he requested her presence at the British Confederation of Wizards’ Gala. A summons, more like.

Do not disappoint me. As if any of the gathered officials would give a flying fu-fairy her opinion on the import of Catoblepas and how it may or may not aid wizardkind in dairy farming.

Speaking of which — Allegra’s eyes raised automatically to the Hufflepuff table and she immediately recoiled; all previous thoughts dissipated. Mouth puckered around what appeared to be a stick of butter, the nifflerphile was ogling in her general direction. With an expression of utmost revulsion, she followed his gaze, and by gods — several yards down the table and opposite her, Nosy was nuzzled into Sallow’s neck, a dozing, teal-coloured pillow as he cocooned himself on the wizard’s shoulder whilst his companion was occupied with that morning’s Prophet.

The anger returned sevenfold, and Allegra’s lips curled derisively.

There had been whispers in the corridors that the Italian fiend had been educating their fellow schoolmates on niffler-milking etiquette — if there was such a thing. And if even William’s ears still perked every time cheese was mentioned, it was only a matter of time before this heretical obsession spread like wildfire and cemented itself into a commercial demand.

At that moment, Vetiti’s attention flickered over to her, and his face broke out into a slimy grin when the buttery wedge left his lips. Allegra was thankful then that the Slytherin table was mostly vacant, the younger years having already gone to class. She took a half second more to decide her course, plastered a deliberately equable smile onto her face, and beckoned the Italian scoundrel over. His reaction was instantaneous. The solid mass of dairy was quickly tossed aside as Vetiti scrambled eagerly from his seat and jogged across the Great Hall.

Keeping her eyes on the Hufflepuff, Allegra lifted an arched brow and jerked her head unmistakably in Sallow’s direction. Paired with a falsely encouraging smile, it had the intended effect. Vetiti’s features visibly burst with anticipation, and he near-dashed for the bench opposite Allegra, eyes glossy with expectant need.

Before Vetiti could ciao bella her, Allegra had cut him off. “Vincent, was it?”

Without waiting for an answer, she continued, her voice dulcet yet carried with it an underlying chill. “You know, I don’t care for much in my life. In fact,” the witch idly twirled her wand, “I can count on one hand those that I care about.”

“That darling little niffler over there?” Allegra tilted her head sideways again, a sickly sweet smile sliding onto her lips. “At the top of the list.”

As she lazily conjured a napkin, a razor-edged iciness crept into her voice. “If you have less than salubrious intentions with him, however innocent you may think they are,” she languidly leant over the table, taking her time to tenderly dab at the grease on the corners of Vetiti’s mouth.

“Well,” Allegra gave the napkin an evaluating glance and let it fall onto Vetiti’s lap before settling back into her seat. “It’s well-known how much you Italians want for la dolce vita — that easy, sweet, sweet life.” Almost absentmindedly, she brushed the ashes of the incinerated note from earlier off the table, “I’d hate to have to ruin that for you.”

Her lashes swept upward as her gaze lifted to meet the Hufflepuff before she flashed him a disarming smile. “Capisce, bello?”

[mercurygray]

Seashells from the March prompts for Marion, please?

George, I hope you don't mind I went in a slightly different direction for this. It's Marion, but it's...not. This is also for the Kind Anonymous Friend who asked for Harding's departure.

He still couldn't believe he'd left them.

His bedroom at Walter Reed was terribly empty - white walls, an iron bedstead also enameled in white, a bedside table, a small chair, a tray on wheels they could place over his bed if he wanted to get work done - if he'd had any work to do, that is. But Neil Harding hadn't been allowed to take any work with him. The 100th doesn't go off ops, and neither do I. He'd been saying it for weeks, even as he was doubled over in pain at his desk and Doc Stover was begging him to tell him what was wrong.

Well. They knew now. Gallstones - a whole lot of them. Easy enough to treat if you got to them early, but he hadn't done that, had he, and now he was back stateside, and his boys were still in it.

They needed me, and I left them.

His boys - and Marion.

There hadn't been a lot of time for good-byes, as they'd been rushing him to the hospital in London, and then straight onto an air evac flight back to the States to recover. He could do a month of bedrest just as easily in DC as he could in England, and there were boys who needed the space close to the war. The Army Medical Department seemed to think he was a total loss, as far as combat readiness was concerned, but he had things to do in England - people who needed him!

Who's going to take care of you, now? Who's looking out for my best girl?

They weren't the kind of instructions you could commit to paper. Red - please look after Marion. Look after, like she needed someone to check on her health. What she needed was someone to kiss her good night - to rub her shoulders and rub her out and fill her hot water bottle and cradle her, very gently, after having sex, at least once a night but perhaps twice. And the particular someone who should have been doing it was presently across an ocean, eating milk porridge and having a full shift of nurses fuss over his stitches and his wound dressing and his bowel movements, like he was some old fogey who would forget things if he wasn't asked.

It wasn't prison, but damn if it didn't feel close. There was a hospital library, and they delivered the papers every day. He was allowed his cigars, and if they liked the progress of his stitches they'd put him back on solid food soon. And they tried for some comforts, where discipline and order could fit them in. One of the nurses had set up his framed picture of Doris and the girls right where he could see it, on the dresser across from his bed. "That's better, now, isn't it, sir?" she'd asked with a sunny smile. "Can I get you anything else, while I'm here?"

He wanted her to take the picture down, but that would look bad. The woman herself would be here in a few days, but until then, he wanted to remain in the war, with the comforts he'd found here. "Lieutenant, there's a…a seashell, in my footlocker, in the top tray." It should have still been there, wrapped in a handkerchief. "Could you - could you put that out, too?" She nodded, and went to check his trunk, before pulling it out - a small, soft, pink spiral of a shell, the kind that you could hear the ocean in, if you held it to your ear. She set it down near the photograph like the two belonged together. "On the - the other side of the dresser, please."

She moved it, as instructed. "A good memory, I hope?"

Neil looked at it and thought of the ocean, and a walk along a barbed-wire edged breakwater in Southwold, a rare private weekend away. She'd found the shell in between the stones, tossed up by a storm. Your favorite color, he'd joked, stroking the pink with his thumb. Your favorite shape, she tossed back, and he realized how the swirl of the shell echoed the curve of a breast, peaking into a pink tip. He'd slipped it into his pocket like a talisman, careful not to break it, and that night he'd kissed those breasts over and over again like he might somehow commit them to memory.

Was it just one memory? No, more than that. But the nurse didn't need to know that. He had left - but she had stayed, and would remain until the stars went out. At least they could depend on her. Neil smiled and nodded, thinking of a woman in a pristine army uniform, laughing in his room's single chair. "The best."

[jasonthetoymakesmybbg]

(ART NOT MINE!!)

So a Billy Lenz x Male Reader?? 👀

Where Billy is a sub and Reader is dom?

I shall deliver obv with my writing power.

…..

Things had gone really heated fast, me and Billy were just cuddling and I decided to press my bulge against his and now I’m already pinned to the bed with him straddling me.

“Pretty piggy made a mistake~ Pretty piggy-get fucked by Billy’s f-fat cock?~” He started rambling to the point I couldn’t understand him. But I shiver at his words, it made me excited than I already am.

“Hm…I don’t think that’s how it’s gonna work Billy” I smirk, sitting up.

“Your gonna take MY cock.” I clarify, I felt his boner against my stomach as he seemed happy either way someone was gonna get fucked.

“Fuck~ piggy please~” He moaned softly, his saliva running down his chin messily, I rubbed his cock that strained in his pants teasingly making him grunt.

“Hm..your gonna have to beg for it Billy” I said, I heard Billy whine a little. He gave me pleading eyes.

“Please?~ Billy wants to feel Pretty Piggy cock in him~..Billy wants to get fucked hard-“ enough to convince me to pin him to the bed, i unbuckled his belt and slid it out of the hoops, tossing it to the side. Unbuttoned his pants and slid them down, his cock twitched. I gently grip it through his boxers making him moan in pleasure.

“Pretty-Piggy ngh~”

I slid his boxers down and his cock sprang free, I rub my thumb against the sensitive head, feeling the pre cum drip and stick to my thumb tip.

“aAh!..~ piggy~ mngh~~” He moaned as his head leaned back, his back arched as he was tortured by the sensation of the teasing.

I grip his cock and start moving my hand up and down, every time my hand went up I would squeeze gently near the tip, the room filled with Billy’s whines and desperate sounds. He bucked his hips to feel a little more.

I had started undoing my pants, soon my cock sprang a free.

“Come on..come suck it baby” I coo softly, he had got on his hands and knees, licking it messily and then took my cock into his mouth, I moaned softly. He started to bob his head and made sure to take it in deep down his throat.

“Fuck-baby~!” I moaned, my hand went through his hair, some points I move it out of his face so I can get a clear view. I lightly thrust in rhythm to match his bobbing, there were slight gags that would send a vibration through me making me grunt.

I pulled away from his mouth and leaned him back enough to lay back down. I life his legs as I spit on my two fingers, rubbing it against his right hole as I push my fingers in making him yelp in pleasure.

As I finger his hole I would lazily jerk him off, making him moan in ecstasy as pleasure washes over his body like sparks of electricity. His body twitched, I didn’t stop jerking him but removed my fingers out of his perky hole, I rub my tip against it and pushed.

“Oh-ngh~ y-yes~!” He moaned, finally I pushed in fully, slowly going in and out, slowly going faster each time and hitting his prostate. Holding onto his hips and listening to his rambles as I fuck him brainless.

“Fill-Billy nicely-mngh!~ aAh..~ big~ ngh~ full.” He went on as slobber dropped and his eyes rolled back at the intense abuse to his cock and tight asshole.

It would be very soon I felt tiny tingles of signal that I was gonna cum any second, so was Billy cause I felt his cock twitch a lot.

“FU-ck~! Billy’s cu-U-ming~” he moaned loudly. My sounds became more vocal as I focus on finishing, my hand worked on his cock faster.

“Come on-hngh!~ come on!-cum.” I grunted loudly, finally my hot seed started to fill his ass, milking every drop. As I sped up my jerking making him squirt on his chest.

We panted heavily before laying down enzymes to each other, slowly drifting off

(A small quick smut, I’m bored so I may make a lot more of different characters.)