#sex after herpes

[lottiecrabie]

Is it normal for your throat to hurt the next day after kissing someone?

Like I’ve been seeing this guy for the past few months, and after every make out session we’ve had, the next day my throat is sore.

He has been sick twice, and I miraculously haven’t gotten sick (when he’s sick we don’t kiss, but we still cuddle). But like clockwork, the next day after I see him (even when he’s not sick), my throat hurts. It’s never anything but a sore throat, and it usually goes away in a few days, so I’ve never been too concerned about it; I am wondering if this is normal though?

i don’t think it’s normal. it’s never happened to me or any of my friends at least. i know sometimes lips or around the face can get sore or irritated from kissing so maybe it’s something like that? or he’s like always walking around with bacteria in his mouth he’s immunized to and he’s transmitting them😭 does it happen with just him?

oh google says you could be allergic to a protein in his saliva. maybe it’s that🤷‍♀️

it’s very unfortunate if it’s lasting DAYS though like you’re saying like it’s not a big deal but i would be fuming if i had a sore throat for days because of some guy

[gay-drian]

.

[drdemonprince]

I grew up with abstinence-only sex education, and it did a real number on me. But I’ve shaken off enough of my old cultural programming to realize that the transmission of bacteria and viruses is a thing that sometimes just happens when animals come together, no matter how stringently we might try to prevent it.

I have gotten urinary tract infections when a stray microbe found its way into my urethra after sex. Lube and bodily fluids have disturbed my vagina’s pH and caused a yeast infection many times. So has wearing a bathing suit for too long without drying it, yet another “risk” worth the pleasures of swimming along the sea wall.

Once or twice I’ve had an outbreak of cold sores, just like 80% of humans. If I’m like most people, I probably caught oral herpes when I was very young, sharing a sippy cup or rolling around at a sleepover.

None of this makes me disgusting, irresponsible, evil, or dangerous to others. It just makes me a living creature that exists in close contact with other creatures. I believe I have a responsibility to get tested regularly, to alert people who have been close to me when I get sick, and to use preventative measures like condoms, PreP, vaccines, toys, and masks to prevent the spread of infections as best I can. But I never imagine I can lead a life without risk — or that such a life would even be desirable.

There is no such thing as completely “safe” sex. A friend of mine can’t use condoms because they give her bacterial vaginosis. She chooses instead to fuck raw and take PreP and get anything else she catches treated. A guy I know who masks and tests religiously caught COVID while fisting someone (with a gloved hand!) at an air-filtered party. HPV is so prevalent that most sexual wellness clinics don’t bother testing for it, and can’t do much for a patient if they do have it. Our bodies are teeming at all times with various endemic viruses and microbes that we will never have the power to purge.

Then there are the possible costs of not having sex — vaginal atrophy, pelvic floor weakening, reduced access to endorphins, loneliness, touch starvation, the despair of harboring dreams that one never dares try. I can’t decide for anyone else which dangers loom the largest, but for me a gonorrhea shot is a fair trade for the hours of leg-cramping, bed-staining, hypno-kinky sex that led to it. There’s no guarantee that the next time I have sex it will be anywhere near as much fun, but the potential keeps me throwing the dice.

I hear quite frequently from sexually inexperienced Autistic people who crave an intimate connection, but desperately wish to remain responsible and “safe.” They want there to be a set of iron-tight rules they can follow that will guarantee they remain a virtuous person who never hurts anyone’s feelings, and never catches any sexually transmitted infection.

I understand why they want someone to impose order onto an unpredictable, terrifying world. But I can’t give that certainty to them, nor can anyone. All I can suggest is that they be honest with themselves about what they want, inform themselves of the costs and benefits to pursuing their desires, and then venture forward — proudly welcoming the correct risks into their life, rather than trying to avoid any risks at all.

Life is nothing but a negotiation of risk. If a person has gender dysphoria and they want to combat it, they must risk a transition they could one day regret. If an abolitionist wants to take a stand against the police state, they must plan for the possibility of arrest or political repression. When we open our hearts to love, we expose ourselves to grief — our partners will keep changing and growing, sometimes away from us. Each step that we take forward in life closes off potential paths. There is no avoiding this.

Instead of chasing after the false promise of “safety,” trying to remain completely insulated from harm and challenge forever, we must get better at admitting risk into our lives.

I wrote about all about the messy business of risk mitigation, and how the pursuit of perfect safety is used to justify isolation, theft of bodily autonomy, and political repression. It's free to read (or have narrated to you by the app!) at drdevonprice.substack.com

[dcandmarvelimagines]

sweeter than you ever knew. (pt. 1)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, some blood, Wade being too flirty for his own good, vaginal fingering, bathroom sex, dirty talking, the relationship with Logan is a "slow" burn in comparison. More smut to come, I swear. Author's note: Damn...it's been a while huh? My last comic related fic was in 2018, funny enough also because of a Deadpool movie. I was already sappy in a post before so I wont subject y'all to it. But this was intended to be a short little oneshot and has absolutely ballooned out of control. I'm thinking this will end up being five chapters. I will upload the second chapter concurrently with my ao3 upload, so if you prefer to read there, feel free! Also as a little aside: I am so unbelievably sorry that the reader's job working in outreach to help Al is barely described and is probably highly inaccurate. I was desperate not to get lost in the weeds of research on the subject. I needed something that would keep the reader out of the apartment most of the time and let the relationship grow differently, so neighbors was out of the question. If you work in community outreach (absolute angel), please just avert your eyes.

I used to think my life was boring. It was the same day in, day out. I never met anyone interesting or experienced new things. That changed when I knocked on an unassuming apartment door in a dingy building.

I worked in government outreach, providing assistance to elderly blind clients. I had been assigned to work with Althea Sanderson. Her file had listed her as combative and she didn’t disappoint. She absolutely hated my guts at first, grumbling about how she just needed her “disco dust” to keep going. She assured me that she had roommates and didn’t need me “thundering” around her small apartment. 

For nearly two weeks, I thought her mind had to have been slipping, because no one else would come from that apartment besides me. Imagine my shock when I walked into the place and found a hulking mass of a man, only in his boxers, in the kitchen. His brown hair, streaked with white, was wet after a shower and he was half heartedly rubbing at his shoulder with a towel covered in sparkly unicorns. “Who the hell are you?” He snapped, voice gruff. He glared at me like I had personally insulted him by my mere presence. My eyes darted all over him, the thick ropes of muscles in his arms, the harsh planes of abs, the thin sheen of dark hair on his chest, the trail disappearing into his boxers. The man yanked the fridge door open and snapped me from my drooling. 

I had barely stumbled my name out before Al, as she insisted I call her when she realized I wasn’t going anywhere, came around the corner, her hands guiding her along the wall. “Leave her alone Logan. She’s like herpes and I can’t get rid of her.” My lips pursed at the comparison. The man, Logan, huffed with either annoyance or laughter before padding away, beer clutched in his hand. For how big he was, I was shocked at how light on his feet he was. In comparison, I really did thunder around. 

“Oh! Do we have a new roomie!?” The voice trembled in excitement. Its owner bounded around the corner, clad only in low slung sweatpants, nearly tripping over the scraggly dog at his feet. I drew back, sucking in a sharp breath. The new man was no less tall than the other, but lean in comparison, with a wide chest and firm arms. But I was far more distracted by his skin. It was a mixture of mottled pink and white, looking more like swirled bacon fat than anything else. He was completely hairless but I saw the skin of his forehead rise. “Al, you didn’t say you had a hot granddaughter!” 

“Oh I’m not,” I said. While I was scheduled to be here for four hours, I was already contemplating how to escape the suddenly cramped apartment. 

“Does she look like she’s related to me dick for brains?” Al growled at him. The man shrugged, a megawatt smile plastered on his face as he picked up the dog and let it lick at his face. 

“She has the same wild sexual energy you do, my sweet black Betty White.” He walked closer, carelessly dropping the dog into Al’s lap just as she lowered herself into a creaky chair. The man theatrically bowed, snagging my hand to press a too wet kiss to my knuckles. His skin was unbelievably soft as it held mine, the grip light enough that I could pull away at any moment. “Wade Winston Wilson.” 

He was so close to me that I took a half step back. I gave him my name, just my first, and wriggled my hand free. “Um, I'm assuming your Al’s roommates?”

“Roommates is such a safe for work word, I prefer to be her personal pommel horse.” A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. Wade grinned at the sound and shit, his face softened in such a charming way that I felt my defenses come down just a little. 

“I don’t think you understand what a pommel horse is.” 

“Isn’t it something you ride? Get all flexable on?” 

After that first awkward day, all four of us fell into an easy routine. Al seemed to warm to me more, though her sharp tongue never faltered. Wade was a vibrating ball of energy whenever I came over. He bounced around the kitchen as I made Al her coffee or insisted I sit with them to watch Golden Girls . I came to realize that only his right hand was so soft, the left was scratchy and blistered, which was something I refused to think about any deeper. Logan remained standoffish and reserved but he was there when I needed a break from Wade’s constant talking. I would occasionally find him sitting on the fire escape, smoking the cigar that seemed permanently stuck to his fingers. We often just sat in silence while Wade and Al argued about Ikea furniture. 

I had always found their schedule strange. They would disappear for days, sometimes weeks, at a time with no rhyme or reason. I had originally thought they might be businessmen but Logan’s quick temper and Wade’s obnoxious energy clashed with the idea. Wade often talked about going to exotic places and had brought me back a diamond that he swears up and down is not only real, but is also the tip of a woman’s finger. 

The day I found out their real profession had started horribly. The train line to Al’s apartment had broken, so I had to take a cab there. I was flustered, hungry, and in desperate need of caffeine when I trudged up the five flights of stairs to Al’s apartment, because, of course , her elevator had broken. It was customary for me to knock twice, allowing Al to respond before I used my key to come in. Today, my knocks were much shorter. “Good morning Al,” I called, slipping into the door before turning to close and lock it. I spun and nearly screamed. 

“Oh hey,” Wade said, leaning against the wall of the kitchen, a mug clutched in his hand. I was far more distracted by three massive claw marks across his chest, blood oozing down his stomach, staining his plaid underwear. 

“Oh my god! Wade!” My keys and purse clattered to the floor as I rushed to him, bracing my hands against his chest. “What happened?! Holy shit, oh fuck.” I was babbling now, distracted by how sticky and hot the blood was. But his chest rumbled under my shaking hands. I glanced up and saw a smile on his face as he failed to contain his laughter. “What are you fucking laughing at?! You’re dying here and you're laughing?!” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear. Miss good samaritan knows such nasty words.” I tried never to swear around patients but this was a worst fucking case scenario. 

“Oh fuck off! You’re dying and you're laughing ‘cause I said a bad word?!” That only seemed to make him laugh harder. 

“Calm down sweetheart,” came a rough voice behind me. Logan had started to call me that more often, but it always felt like he was insulting me with the word. It usually had a stinge of annoyance laced around it, now was no different. “He’s fine.” I peaked over my shoulder, hands still pressed against Wade’s firm chest, about to argue with the other man about how un fine Wade was. I nearly screamed again. A knife was embedded into Logan’s shoulder. There was blood everywhere . On his bare chest, his face, his hands and arms. 

“Logan!” I wanted to reach for him but couldn’t without leaving Wade to bleed out. 

“Now peanut,” Wade cooed and slid out from under my touch. “I told you, baby knife is just for the bedroom.” With that, Wade yanked the knife from Logan’s shoulder. The spurt of blood made my head woozy and I gripped the counter to hold myself steady. Logan barely reacted to the five inch blade being ripped from his skin, just a small grunt. 

“What’s going on?” My voice was thick with confusion. They had clearly been mauled and attacked in their own home, yet they walked around like nothing traumatizing had just happened.

“Target practice,” Wade said, using a kitchen towel to clean baby knife. Logan turned and dropped on the worn couch, the springs screeching in protest. 

“What?” I grabbed at his wrist before he could walk away. “Wade, please, I hope you understand how jarring that was. Now, please explain and cut all the punny bullshit out.” Wade pressed a dramatic hand to his chest like I had insulted him. 

“We’re mutants.” My eyebrows knitted together as I stalked toward the living room. Logan sat there, whiskey already in hand. He seemingly hid a bottle everywhere. Wade followed behind before collapsing on top of Logan. The older man snapped his jaws like an animal and a little snarl escaped his throat. Wade grinned, tugged at his hair, before going to the other end of the couch. 

“Mutants? Like the X-Men?” The scowl Logan shot me turned my blood to ice. Some of that shock must have shown on my face because Logan glanced away, taking a hefty swig of whiskey, and Wade tugged at my bloody pinky. 

“Ignore him, the X-men are a touchy subject for him, and never touchy in the fun way.” He scratched at his chest, some of the blood smudging. The skin was…

“You’re healed?” I knelt before the couch, hands feeling his chest. “Holy shit I thought you were going to bleed out.” It was impossible. The wounds were deep , I could have sworn I saw bone before. 

“God I’ve thought about you kneeling there for so long.” Logan’s fist cracked into Wade’s arm. My hands flinched away and I quickly stood. “Hurtful peanut. You know my arms always take too long to heal.” 

“Stop being a fucking creep,” Logan hissed. I turned to him and saw that the wound in his shoulder was also gone. Without thinking, I bent to touch the smooth skin, as if I couldn’t believe it without feeling it as well. Logan went still under my touch. I knew Wade didn’t mind the physical contact, he practically threw himself at me whenever I was around, but Logan was always just out of reach. I was too frazzled to think correctly anymore. 

“So you can heal,” I mumbled. 

“Very fast,” Wade said. He grabbed the remote and clicked on the tv. 

“You can stop touching me now sweetheart.” Once again, I snatched my hands back with a mumbled sorry , a faint flush burning my cheeks. 

“Comes in real handy with our line of work.” Wade was bouncing his leg, the couch squeaking under him. Logan’s hand shot out to still him, knuckles showing white for a moment. Wade winced and I heard another snap.

“Which is…?”

Logan answered for me, “mercenaries.” 

“Oh,” I plopped down on the rickety coffee table. The information settled like a lead weight in my stomach. My first instinct was fear. They killed people for money. Would they then turn on me now? Curiosity tugged at me as well. I couldn’t explain it but there was something so magnetic about them. The edge of danger had always been there, especially with Logan. I would have never guessed it was this. Ever since I first met them, I knew I would be fascinated. I guess I had my answer as to why they were as fit as models. “How come I’ve never seen anything? Do you guys not have…guns or whatever?” 

“He didn’t want to scare you.” Logan jabbed his thumb Wade’s way. I cocked my head at Wade, a tiny smile pulling at my lips. He actually looked a little bashful. 

“I’ve found that women don’t always respond very positively to my intestines hanging out.” My stomach flipped and I sat a little straighter. 

“Has that happened?” 

“No, but a fortune teller told me it will happen when I least expect it.” He stood with an excited jump, moving to stand in front of a small closet. There was only a faint limp in his movement. As he walked, I became incredibly aware that both men were nearly naked, only clad in thin boxers. With every step, Wade’s well defined back flexed and his legs tensed. I only allowed myself a moment to take him in before I drew my gaze away. He turned and flung the door open with flourish. “Behold! My batcave!” I glanced inside, and found a tall gun case, massive stacks of ammo, and two katanas balanced against a red suit. There was a yellow one tucked next to it as well. “Mine is the red one, a very flattering color I assure you.” 

“The yellow one is yours?” Logan just gives me a curt nod. His face is stone again, clearly done with this conversation. “Do you use any of that?” I ask, motioning to the “batcave”, whatever the hell that means. 

Snikt.  

“Woah,” I whispered. The three blades protruding from between his knuckles were shiny and looked wicked sharp. I leaned forward and pressed the pad of my thumb against the middle blade. It immediately split the skin and a drop of blood oozed down my skin. Logan watched my warily, like I was liable to jump on the claws at any moment. “Do they hurt?” There were small beads of blood around where they had pierced through his skin. With a flex of his veiny forearm, the claws disappeared. The blades slid smoothly between the bones on the back of his hand.

“Yeah, everytime.” I watch his skin knit itself together again with rapt attention. Once it finished, I ran my injured thumb over the regrown skin, our blood smearing a thick stripe across his knuckles. Logan’s hand was relaxed as I held it. Wade flopped back onto the couch, his head in Logan’s lap, baby knife clutched in his hands. Logan seemed resigned, face relaxing just a bit, and allowed Wade to rest. He withdrew his hand from mine before resting his arm across Wade’s neck. The motion was surprisingly domestic and it made my heart warm. Behind me, the Golden Girls theme played. 

“Isn’t Al in danger with you two here? Don’t you have enemies that could find her?” The briefest sad expression flashed across Wade’s face. I stood suddenly, “oh my god where is she? Did someone already grab her and that’s why you were fucked up?” 

“She’s fine, probably wandering the streets or whatever women of her age do,” Wade made a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Wade!” I stepped on his foot in my mad dash to my fallen purse. I needed my phone to do…something. Call someone? The phone call would sound ridiculous. Hi, I help a blind woman and her two mutant roommates are mercenaries and got her kidnapped. Yeah, totally believable. I had just snatched my bag up when the door opened and Al herself appeared. 

“Fucking Jesus,” she snapped as she ran into me. My body sagged in relief at seeing her. I gripped her shoulders, just to make sure she was actually there. 

“Oh my god Al, don’t fucking scare my like that.” Her hands flew up and shook out from my touch. 

“Well you were late!” I wasn’t. “Are those two done fucking yet?” I twisted to look at the men on the couch. Logan was half way out the window to smoke. I could have sworn I saw him lick at his bloody knuckles. Wade was studying me, the hint of a challenge in his eyes, daring me to say something about their relationship. I smiled, hoping it let him know I didn’t care. But that easy look might have been ruined when pieces fell together. The knife. The three slashes to Wade’s chest. Their near nakedness. 

Huh.

“Uh yeah Al, I think I ruined the mood for them.” She scoffed and shoved a grocery bag into my hands. I dutifully turned to the kitchen and began to store away the random assortment of items. She guided herself over to the coffee maker and began to load the grounds into a filter. 

“I think you are one of the biggest things that puts them in the mood honey.” I heard a growl float in from the window. 

Wade and Logan stopped avoiding me after finding out their true occupation. It never got any easier seeing their bloody bodies strew around the apartment. I slipped on enough stray bullets that I learned to watch my feet. Wade was always cleaning his guns with a concentration I didn’t think he was capable of. One night he forced me to sit down, offering his lap first and whimpered pitifully when I took the chair, and made me hold the gun, showing me how to cock it and flick the safety on and off. The name Chekhov was stamped across the side in shiny gold letters. “Do I really need to know this?” He leaned closer, cheek pressed to mine. His warm hands slid over my own, guiding me to a button that would pop the magazine out and helped me click it back into place. He had grown much bolder in his touching and I couldn’t bring myself to stop him anymore.

“Never know when you’ll need to flip the badass switch.” His bubbly finger tapped the glittering name for emphasis. I shifted in my seat to face him, my lips ghosting over his cheek. He followed my lead and our noses brushed. 

“I didn’t think I would need that with you around.” A beat passed as we looked at each other. There was something soft in his eyes that made my heart clench. “You’re going to protect me, right?” It wouldn’t take much to lean closer, to finally kiss him. I knew he was thinking the same thing and my eyelids fluttered closed in anticipation. 

The alarm for my Al’s meds broke the moment. 

I knew I was sliding into a sticky situation. I found myself staying later and later, well past my shift with Al had ended. It was absolutely forbidden for me to become involved with clients. The excuse that they weren’t technically my clients wouldn’t work on my boss. I needed to make a decision. Either stop working with Al or end any attachment to Wade, and Logan by extension. 

***

I’m not sure how Wade and I ended up on that date. He and Logan had been away on a job for a week. It was finally peaceful in the apartment but I couldn’t lie to myself, I had missed them. So I didn’t fight Wade too much when he asked “nicely”, aka demanded , he tag along while I ran errands for Al. She was the last person I had to visit for the day so I allowed him to drag me to a bar after I dropped her meds off. Logan had a dark look in his eyes when he saw Wade clutch my hand. “The old man is just jealous. He wishes someone would take him out, but he doesn’t do well in crowds, very bitey.” I smirked and let Wade choose our destination. His hand was steady around mine, giving it occasional squeezes as we rushed across busy streets. The bar he picked was properly seedy, full to the brim with haggard men with face tattoos. Normally, I would have run screaming from a place like this. But Wade was clearly well liked. He moved through the room, smiling and waving at everyone. He tried introducing me to some people but it was hard to keep their names straight. We found an empty booth tucked behind the row of pool tables. I eased onto the sticky laminate bench as Wade headed to the bar to get our drinks. I listen to the men next to my seat argue over who was supposed to break for their next game of pool while I waited. 

Wade returned with my drink, a neon green one for him, and two small shot glasses. I eyed them suspiciously as he passed me one of the whipped cream topped shots. “I thought it was only right to start our date with a blowjob.” I coughed on my laugh, examining the glass. He tapped his against mine before downing it and I followed his lead. It was pure sugar, nearly masking the burn of the alcohol. 

“Whoever made this has clearly never given a blow job. Way too sweet.” Wade grinned in that mischievous way he always seemed to when he was going to be especially gross. I had no idea why I was being so forward. But I felt light, happy. All my worries from work had melted away as Wade held my hand on our way here.

“Oh yeah? I’ve been told my cum is rather delicious. It’s all the pineapple I eat.” I rolled my eyes and matched his grin, propping my elbows on the table, head cradled between my hands. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat a single fruit. Or a vegetable honestly.” Wade copied my pose, fluttering his nonexistent eyelashes. 

“How about you taste mine and I taste yours?” I pretended to contemplate, eyes scrunching, head tilting from side to side. My hand inched across the table before I plucked the cherry from Wade’s drink. He saw me, I could tell by the minute flick of his gaze, but he let me take it regardless. I yanked it from the stem with my teeth and chewed thoughtfully. 

“Hm, I’m not sure. Don’t you think Al would talk if you were moaning my name so much?” He grabbed my wrist and dragged my hand closer. My breath caught as his lips enveloped my index finger and thumb. His tongue lazed over them before he drew back, the cherry stem between his teeth. 

“Sweetie pie, I moan it enough as is.” I blushed and my stomach grew warm. The stem disappeared, his jaw moving. “I haven’t been able to convince the old bastard to dress like you yet. But he lets me pretend.” I took a big gulp of my drink and glanced away. The patrons were starting to get more boisterous. Their shouts echoed off the peeling wallpapered walls as they called for more rounds or catcalled some of the working girls. I watched as a pretty blonde walked off with two men. Would Wade and Logan take turns? Or would they pin me between them, spreading me open on both of their- “Jealous?” My head whorled back to him but only found a knowing glint in his eyes. 

“Shut up,” I growled and took another deep drink. Wade’s tongue lolled out, in the center was a perfectly knotted stem. I shifted in my seat. This was not how I had intended the night to go. I wanted just a drink, conversation, and then home for a long awaited rest. But here I was, squirming at the mere sight of Wade’s tongue. “Impressive,” I mumbled. I reached across the table and plucked the stem from him. It looked like he was going for another kiss but my hand drew back too fast.

“I know it’s impressive. Just spelling out my name gets it all twisted like that.” I rolled my eyes with a smirk. 

“You didn't strike me as a guy who would spell his name out. I thought you might be a little more creative.” He leaned closer, eyes just a bit too wide. 

“Oh? What were you imagining I would do? I have a lot of skills and I’ll use them all on you.” Damn it . I finished off my drink and the booze buzzed down my body as it settled inside me. A small voice in my head reminded me that I needed to pick. That if I went down this road with Wade, I needed to stop visiting Al. But fuck, I craved the feeling of his hands on me. I dreamt of him and Logan anytime I saw them. My brain became more and more depraved as the weeks went on. I could barely look at them sometimes without blushing. 

“Wade,” I sighed, twirling my straw in the slowly melting ice. “If we do anything, I have to stop working with Al. It’s a conflict of-“ he held a scarred hand up and my voice died away. 

“No work talk. It’s Friday, let me show you a good time.” I sighed again but nodded. 

The night passed blissfully. Wade was a strangely great date, much better than any guy I’ve been with recently. He asked me a million questions, ranging from my childhood, food allergies, to my favorite Mexican food. He gave me half joke responses about his own childhood, but gave me enthusiastic answers to everything else . He bought me another drink after he finished his but I was careful to sip mine slowly. The last thing I needed was a hangover. He also brought some greasy fries and I dove into them gratefully. We played one round of pool, which he won by only a few points. Then he promptly annihilated me in darts. “So unfair,” I groaned. “You do this for a living, I would have never won.” 

“I thought you being sexy would distract me enough. Strip, then you’ll win.” I had that pleasant buzz running through me so his words just made me giggle. 

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.” I held up my hand to cut off his next words. “Not now you horny bastard.” He pouted, lip stuck a full inch off his face. I playfully plucked at it. “Pout all you want. You gotta put more effort in to get me naked.” 

That was perhaps the wrong choice of words because he bent down, his lips colliding with mine. I gasped but grabbed at his sweatshirt, clinging to him. He kissed like he wanted to eat me, all tongue and spit. He tasted as sweet as candy from the bright cocktails he had. It made my head swirl, skin heat. His hands moved to my hips and traced the sliver of exposed skin before they dove into my back pockets, and jerked me closer. I moaned into him as I felt the hard ridge in his pants pressed against my hip. The few whoops from our onlookers made me pause. “Probably not the best place.” Wade’s voice was a little husky, lips still close enough to mine that they moved with his words. 

“No,” I mumbled. But neither of us disentangled from each other. “I should probably go home.” Wade sighed and straightened. He nodded, tucking a loose lock of hair behind my ear. 

“Fuck you look gorgeous.” His voice was barely audible under the conversations and the music. I opened my mouth to say something but he cut me off. “I gotta hit the head then I’ll take you home.” He removed my hands from his sweatshirt, but still held one as he guided me to where the bathrooms were, situated at the end of a long hallway. “Wait here, don’t get too many men drooling over you.” Once he disappeared into the men’s room, I let out a breath. He was overwhelming, equal parts sweet, filthy, and ridiculous. The last thing I wanted to do was be responsible. To go home and ignore all the things he made me feel. I had already gone too far, what were a couple more steps? I bit at my thumb nail and watched the bathrooms intently. I didn’t see any women come or go into theirs. I scanned the bar and only found a handful of them. I knew I would have it mostly to myself. 

Cautiously, as if I was somehow breaking a law, I walked down and into the women’s bathroom. It was empty, mostly clean, and smelled fine. Which I’m sure is more than I could say about the men’s. I propped myself against the wall in the hallway, waiting for Wade to emerge again. Two men passed before I saw him. “Aw, I don’t need an escort out of this creepy hallway.” I roughly grabbed his shirt, and backed into the still empty bathroom. “Oh wow, the promised land.” 

I slammed him against the door, far too rough from nerves, but his face lit up nevertheless, a little excited laugh escaping him. “How about you show me those skills you talked about, yeah? Consider this a trial period before I let you fuck my brains out.” He didn’t need to be told twice. He hauled my body tight against his, lips crashing against mine again. This time, I gave into his kisses completely, his teeth tugging at my lips. There was a pinch of pain each time but it only made me claw at his neck harder. Judging by the groan he let out, I think I broke through skin. His tongue prodded its way into my mouth and I moaned loudly against him. His hands slid all over my body before they hooked behind my knees and he carried me to the counter. He lifted me like I weighed nothing. My head was beginning to grow fuzzy from our kiss but I refused to part, greedily sucking air from him instead. 

Wade was the first to rear back, gulping down lungfuls of air. I wanted to drag him back and kiss him till I was lightheaded again. “Goddamn woman,” he mumbled. I just hummed, moving my desperate kisses to his jaw. My hands crawled up his shirt and littered his torso with scratches. He leaned closer, my head hitting the mirror behind me, as he gripped my hips and dragged me flush against him. My legs curled around his waist, craving the feeling of his hard cock against me. 

“Wade,” I whined while I ground my hips against his. I found a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear that made him rasp my name. He cupped the back of my neck, leading me back to his greedy mouth. His thumb brushed along my jaw before his fingers delicately laid across my throat. I arched my neck to give his hand better access to the column of muscle. But his hands slipped from me entirely so he could shove my shirt over my breasts. He buried his face between them, peppering the skin with long, sucking kisses. “ Wade,” I moaned, hips bucking desperately against him, “I need you to fuck me.” His hand went to my jeans, pulling the button free and easing the zipper down. I yelped when his teeth captured a bit of flesh and bit down, hard . But the sting of pain only made me crave him more. Finally his hand plunged under my jeans and into my underwear. 

“So wet all ready,” he hummed, biting at more of my skin. He drifted over my clit in loose, but firm circles. With his free hand, he worked the cup of my bra down and captured my nipple in his mouth. I thursted against his hand in an attempt to get him to do more, to bend me over this sink and fuck me like I knew he wanted to. Instead, he traced the tip of his finger over my entrance and had the nerve to chuckle when I tried to force it inside. 

“ Jesus, Wade , stop teasing me.” My voice was airy, tinged with desire. His teeth glanced across my nipple and I nearly wailed. “Wade!” My nails went to his head and dug into his scalp, heels digging into his ass in annoyance. 

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl.” His finger drove into me, pumping in and out quickly. He sucked one last bruise onto the top of my breast before he was kissing and licking back up my neck. 

“ More , Wade,” I panted, “you aren’t going to break me.” He laughed, the sound sending goosebumps across my feverish skin. Another finger worked its way into me and my eyes rolled back at the stretch, a sigh catching in my throat.  His thumb moved into more controlled figure eights. My legs trembled around him as he crooked his fingers inside, hunting for that spongy spot inside me. “Wade, oh fuck.” 

“God you moan so nice for daddy Wade.” Something between a laugh and a sob of pleasure bubbled up from my chest. Heat oozed through my body, settled deep in my stomach. 

“I’m not gonna call you that. Ah, keeping doing that, so good.” 

“Are you going to call Logan daddy when he makes you wiggle like this?” He found his mark and stroked the spot deep inside me with complete focus. My hips bore down on his hand, chasing for the orgasm I sensed. “ Aww seems like you like the idea. You’re sucking me in so much.” He bit more bruises on my neck, tongue lapping at the skin after to soothe the ache. “I can’t wait to see you stretched on his big dick.” 

I whimper, the tension inside me near breaking point. “Yours first.” The coil finally snapped. My eyes squeezed shut as a stream of his name and half gasps fell from my chapped lips. His free hand pinned my hip to the counter to stop its wild jerks. He scattered soft kisses across my face and cheeks as he worked me through my orgasm. It seemed to last an eternity and the waves of bliss made my body tingly. 

Eventually, my body relaxed and slumped against the mirror, chest heaving. Wade’s fingers remained in me, lazily plunging inside. Now that the haze had passed, I could hear just how wet I was. The lewd noises echo off the cramped bathroom’s tiles. “Wade,” I mumbled, tugging weakly at his wrist. “You should get to fucking me now.” 

“ Ew , how about you guys don’t. Do you know how dirty it is in here?” I jumped at the voice, scrambling to cover myself. Wade shifted himself to block me from view as I did. His fingers withdrew with a pop that made my face heat even more. The woman idly scrolled on her phone to give us privacy. My bra was fixed, shirt back over my chest, in record time. 

Wade was fine to let us wait it seemed. His sticky fingers lingered on my stomach, running over the curves and stretch marks, before he buttoned up my pants. “Okay sugar bean, let’s get you home.” He helped me off the counter, my weak legs wobbling just a bit. He kept his firm arm around me for support anyways. I had half a mind to think it was just to keep touching me. I didn’t mind and leaned into his side, head against his chest. 

The night was cool, the slight bite of oncoming autumn in the crisp air, and I breathed it in. My head felt clearer with each one. I went to pull away first, to tell him that I would see him on Monday, but he kept walking. “Where are we going?” 

“Gonna take you home.” I blinked. 

“How do you know this is the way to my place?” He made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. 

“Is some light stalking a turn off?” I knew I was crazy, absolutely insane, because all I did was beam up at him and cling closer. We made our way to my apartment in long winding segments. First the train where he pulled my legs over his and kissed at my wind whipped cheeks. Then a stop at a late night burger chain where Wade promptly drowned his in ketchup. We walked slowly to my apartment, hand in hand. Exhaustion had finally reached me and my feet dragged behind me. The night had only grown colder, breath misting in front of our faces. I was wearing a light jacket as I anticipated being home before the drop in temperature. I drew Wade’s arm closer, pressing it against my chest, clinging to the bit of heat. “You know, if we were both naked you would be warmer.” I rolled my eyes. 

“That’s absolutely not how that works. Also, my place is just around the corner.” We only had to walk a few more steps before I saw the familiar entrance to my apartment. Wade followed me to my door, leaning against the rail, waiting for me to fish my keys out of my purse. Once I had them in hand, I also tugged my phone from my pocket. “I don’t have your number.” I oddly felt shy, like this was too much of a leap. It felt more official like this. When I held it out for him, he took it eagerly, fingers tapping quickly. Then he kept typing. I peered down at my phone and saw him adding information for Asshole GILF, surrounded by an assortment of hearts. Quite frankly, I didn’t even know Logan had a phone, I had never seen him with it. 

My stomach dropped when I saw Wade open a conversation with Logan and began typing. I was only able to read the words horny and get it up before I snatched my phone back. “Oh my god Wade!” I rapidly deleted the text, refusing to read anymore of his nonsense sexting. “I would prefer Logan to not think I’m trying to jump his bones.” 

“Aw come on! Live a little. Logan loves people who come on too strong, especially on his face.”  

“I think you are probably the exception, Wade. Logan doesn’t seem to want much to do with me.” His cold palms cupped my cheeks and drew me closer. 

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, just you and me, yeah?” I nod, arms encircling his waist. The warmth of his chest spread into mine. “Logan dreams about you. He growls your name. He humps me in his sleep like a teenage boy. Then he wakes up and fucks me for hours.” My face heated at his words. I could feel him getting hard against my hip. “He wants you so bad it makes him crazy.” He pushed against me, just the slightest bit. “ I want you so bad it makes me crazy.” I realized that I never repaid the favor at the bar before being interrupted. 

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Wade smirked, kissing the apples of each cheek then my nose. 

“No, I’m gonna surprise Logan. He’ll go nuts when he smells you on me.” I blinked in confusion. I didn’t smell that bad, did it? “He has enhanced senses,” he explained. “He’ll be able to smell your cum on my fingers from outside the apartment.” 

“Oh god,” I mumbled, stuck between embarrassment and arousal. “Okay, well, don’t keep Al up.” 

“She has ear muffs.” I shook my head, chuckling at the absurdity. Wade pecked at my lips but didn’t allow me more. “Goodnight baby girl. Make sure you text me so I know who you are. So many crazy fangirls, you wouldn’t believe it.” 

“Uh huh,” I teased, finding the key fob for my building. Wade left one lingering kiss on my forehead before giving me a nudge toward my door. The scanner beeped, door releasing with a click. I wedged the door open before it could lock again. “Goodnight, see you Monday.” I blew him a kiss before the door clicked behind me as I went to the elevator. I reached for my phone and searched for Wade in my contact list. Of course I found him listed as Bootycall . Instead of solely hearts, his name was circled by eggplants and hearts. 

Me: you have to send me a picture for your profile. I could have missed you 

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. I traced my usual route to my apartment, jiggling the lock open with my key. My phone buzzed on the counter as I set it down to toe off my shoes and hang my coat up. 

Bootycall: once I’m done with Logan, I’ll send pictures for the both of us. 

Bootycall: Do you have other fuckbuddies? How could you? We should be the only ones for you

I woke up late the next day to two pictures. One was blurry, but the brown hair and a pointy white tooth told me it was Logan. It seemed Wade had tried to sneak it and was caught. The picture of Wade nearly made me faint. Pearly white beads of cum were splattered across his face and dripped off his exposed tongue. 

Me: I can’t possibly make that your contact picture

Bootycall: you’re right! Make it your background!

[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ~ 𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞

word count: 1.3k

genres/tropes: romance, dealer!chris, sturniolo au, slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers

teaser: here

pt. one: here / pt. two: here

warnings: drug usage, alcohol consumption, guns mentioned and used (non-sexual context), smut, mature themes and topics

notes from bambi: this is a multi-part series, and updates will be sporadic.

Christopher's POV:

Nicolas called me for the fourth time in a row. Picking up with a sigh, I barely managed to get three words out before he began his royal tirade. “You handed four thousand dollars to a perfect stranger, Christopher. How does that fucking constitute ‘laying low’? She’s going to tell every single person she knows, and where will that leave us?”

“Death row, probably,” I deadpanned, nosing through a bowl of sweets with my finger. “Do you like dark chocolate?”

“I may seriously kill you and hang your body parts off the ‘HOLLYWOOD’ sign. Why do I have to find out these things from the finance department asking me if “we were sure we wanted to make that kind of deposit”? The device in your hand is incredibly useful for all sorts of almost-instantaneous communication across any distance, and I’ll have you know-”

“We should order a pizza for the office tomorrow. You think they’re pepperoni people?”

He answered after a long-suffering sigh. “Of course they’re peperoni people, Christopher.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Nicolas,” I hummed, grateful for more than just his crowd-sourced opinions.

“I’m taking an Advil and several melatonin,” he snarled at me. “Goodnight.”

A black sedan slowed to a stop at the curb outside as my eldest brother so graciously hung up on me. A quick glance at my phone revealed both the time (3:22am) and an email containing this week’s shipping manifest–Matthew can give it a once-over on the way.

Returning the doorman’s nod, I stepped out of the hotel lobby, through a warm, moon-filled breeze, and into the backseat of the unassuming vehicle.

“Did you get the-”

“Yes,” I said, handing my device to Matthew, who lounged in the seat opposite mine. 

“...Hong Kong is in error,” he murmured. I nodded absentmindedly, letting him work through the tables. Matthew had his methods and so far, he’d never once led us astray. The minutes passed in silence as Los Angeles melted around us, cars and shadowed palm trees and people drifting by at 45+ miles an hour.

“Why were you at the hotel?” he asked after a while.

“Met someone,” I replied evenly.

“You gonna meet her again?”

“Unlikely.”

“If you get herpes because you can’t keep it in your pants,” Matthew said, never once looking up from the manifest, “I will point and laugh.”

Our driver chuckled up front.

“What is this, amateur hour?” I snarked.

“How was she, sir?” our driver asked with a glance in the rearview mirror.

My thoughts settled on the woman from the night before, and the evening we’d shared.

“Oh, Owen, faster, faster!” she squealed, jutting her ass into my pelvis. I regretted giving her my middle name in the name of safety and secrecy–who the fuck can seriously scream ‘Owen’ during sex? Then I remembered I was having sex, which usually is a two-person affair, and I should probably focus, but I shouldn’t have worried–she was done. I waited politely for her body to finish twitching before I lowered myself onto the mattress. “That was so…oh god…” she panted.

“Thank you,” I said, granting her a half-smile. 

“You mind if I shower?”

“Go right ahead.”

As the water wished down the drain, muffled through the bathroom door, I stared at the ceiling. What was wrong with me? Normally I enjoyed sex quite a bit–the animal nature of it, base human desires brought to the surface, expression of self and pleasure through the movement of the body–but it seemed I’d outgrown such things. Outgrown may not have been the right word. I felt confused and exhausted.

As I drifted asleep, I wondered briefly about the bottle girl from the nightclub. I hoped Miss Cassie made it home alright.

“A gentleman never tells,” I replied. 

Matthew handed my phone back to me. “We’ll need to call Lee tomorrow about the reports issue but otherwise we’re good for this week. Not a lot of product coming in anyway, most is export and that’s on Nicolas.”

I glanced at him, mouth tilted. “You worry about you. I’ll worry about Nicolas.”

The car slowed to a halt in front of the estate, and I stepped out with a sigh. “Thank you sir,” I said to the driver, who nodded back at me.

“We’ll be just a minute.”

Matthew followed me up the drive to the front steps. “Why’d you pay that girl so much?”

“Hm?”

“The girl from last night, Callie? Camryn? Cornucopia?”

“Cassandra,” I chuckled. “And I haven’t paid her yet.”

Matthew closed the heavy oak door behind us. “That’s not what Nicolas said.”

Word sure travels fast around here, I thought with a scowl. “Would you two please quit gossipping? It’s annoying.”

“You can be annoyed, I just want to know what warranted four thousand dollars.” Matthew took a cigarette from his pocket, fishing around for his lighter. “That’s a hell of a bathroom blowjob.”

Music thumped through the ornate–and frankly ostentatious–house. Wonder why nobody’s downstairs. “It wasn’t a blowjob. We just talked, you dickhead.”

Matthew snorted and lit his cigarette. “Whatever you say, Christopher.”

A man rounded the nearest corner, his eyes a dull red and his nose powdery white. “Heyyy, pretty boy,” he slurred.

“Dennis Johnson?” Matthew asked conversationally, letting his cigarette hang from his lips and dropping a hand into his coat pocket.

“Thas’ me, alright…Who’s askin’?”

Matthew whipped out his pistol and shot the man where he stood, watching him fall to a heap on the now-blood-spattered marble floor.

“So messy,” I sighed, retrieving my own handgun and making my way up the stairs. “Let’s make this quick please, I’d rather not bother our brothers-in-blue.”

“Really?” my brother said with a wry, blood-freckled smile. “Simple favor for the local sheriff, huh?”

I returned his grin. “Something like that. Let’s light the place.”

Cassandra's POV:

“-a violent shooting earlier this morning, estimated to have occurred between three and four a.m. raises questions in the minds of many-” The newswoman droned on as I ate my cereal, curled tightly underneath my mom’s blanket. 

“Cass, honey?”

“Yes ma’am,” I called.

“Can I come in?”

Putting my bowl down on the nightstand, I clicked the tv off. “Sure.”

My mom fit the worrying mother trope to a T, so her concern about my job at the nightclub shocked me very little. Still, I let her sit on my bed and ramble–something about it soothed her, I think. 

“-and I just worry because, you know, there’s a lot that goes on in those kinds of establishments, and I-”

“I know, Mom,” I said. I put my hand on her arm and took a deep breath. “But…I got a massive tip last night.”

She tilted her head questioningly. “How much?”

“A little over four thousand dollars, Mom.”

She choked and clutched her chest. “What the heck?”

I broke out into a laugh. “Mom!” She never used such language!

“What…How…”

I told her everything–Christopher, the drink, the bathroom–and after a long moment of quiet, she nodded. “You keep yourself safe, Cassandra.”

“I will Mom. But hey! We don’t need to worry about bills this month!”

She tutted and shook her head as she tucked her blanket underneath my toes. “You should save it, baby. Invest in something, let it grow.”

“Or,” I replied, taking another bite of my soggy cereal, “We can go get our nails done and afford name-brand groceries.”

My mom smiled from the doorway. “Put it in the bank and we can talk about it later, okay?”

Giving her my best salute, I drank the rest of my breakfast-dinner amalgamation meal and slid underneath my covers and her blanket. The one-bedroom apartment we shared didn’t boast much in the way of comfort, but we got by. The money from Christopher was genuinely life-changing, and I wanted to find a way to let him know. Would he even care though? You know how those rich people behave…money is nothing to them. I refused to believe in a world where four thousand dollars wasn’t a lot to a person and did my best to catch some sleep. 

City lights pulsed slowly through my threadbare curtains as sirens echoed through the streets and cars honked. Planes flew overhead, carrying hundreds of people to thousands of places, and the subway hummed far below. I finally fell asleep, though I couldn’t help but wonder if that money really meant nothing to Christopher.

notes from bambi: pls let me know if you guys like this concept! mwah

taglist: @pinksturniolo @st7rnioioss @cindylcuwho @slutsformatt @st7rnioioss @slutsformatt 

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

just wanted to pop into ur inbox to share: I've found myself in a delightful little romance the last couple weeks and part of what has made it so wonderful has been our communication around intimacy!

We shared STI status as soon as we established we were into each other (I have oral herpes simplex and always tell partners b4 kissing). Once making out started moving toward sex, we stopped and took a sec to cool it and then had a conversation about how far we're comfortable going right now and set some good defined boundaries (like: under shirt ok, not under pants yet. talking about chest dysphoria and sex. etc) and have stuck to them! :) we've also had a couple conversations about what we like and don't like, as well as figuring out nonverbal cues to guide each other. I've had good communication in relationships before but it's almost always after the fact; it's so nice to talk this stuff over ahead of time!!!

It's been lovely, and I can safely say that much of my confidence in communicating with them about this has come from internalizing lessons from your blog over the years <3 thanks for making my life richer and more meaningful by proxy!

🥹🥹🥹

[cuubism]

Loooove the last post. Just imagining Dream doing an anti-magic STD laser for Hob's fun bits, only for five years later on an eclipse day and Hob to give Dream the gentlest of kisses only for his lover to explode into an eldritch horror because there was apparently dorment magic moon herpes that managed to escape notice and targets shapeshifters and only shapeshifters so Hob is just so confused as Dream is just over there becoming the physical embodiment of unknowable knowledge and everyone in The New Inn have passed out and Hob is just like Ah for fucks sake, not again before Dream pulls him into the Dreaming for a very fun impromptu weekend of monsterfucking since a certian Shaper of Forms can't hold down a consistant one. Finally Dream can isolate and eject the viral magic. It gets thrown into a black hole and now Hob is behind on grading but he knows that dating Dream comes with a whole lot of excitement, and he wouldn't change it for the world...though he does now go to a very awkward annual physical with an exhausted Johanna not-paid-enough-for-this-bullshit Constantine now to make sure that nothing else he's managed to pick up over his long life rears its ugly head.

LMAO I love Hob just being a time bomb of magical STDs, every time they have sex Dream is just taking his fucking life into his hands 😂 after the latest incident Dream is just like "my husband, you are a slut" and Hob's just like #no ragrets if you wanted to be exclusive you had 600 years to make it known, Dream. Hob may not have regrets but Dream does.

When Desire found out about it all they laughed until they fell apart into sweetheart candies, then went to find Hob just to shake his hand. "Safe sex is important Hobert, but if you wanted to get another STD there's one that's REALLY funny--" I'm imagining that supernatural STDs don't kill you they just do really weird things to you, like give you cat ears for a while, or make you float five inches off the ground. Or turn you green of course. The creation of many supernatural STDs was actually just PVP violence between jilted ex-lovers; they couldn't key each other's cars so instead they were like "virus be upon ye!" forgetting that viruses get spread to other people too. Oh well. A bunch of the other ones were a collab project between Desire and Despair. At least one was made by some anti-sex crazy guy that just really wanted to get his point across. The Kellogg of the supernatural community if you will.

Later on Hob's like "should I be a good person and do safe sex advocacy among the magical-but-not-supernatural community?" but then he tries and it turns out literally every other magical or immortal human in the whole world already knew about this except Hob. They're like "you just starting sleeping with people without asking?" he's like "yeah? you guys became unkillable and DIDN'T use it for crazy sexcapades?"

I think it's simply inevitable that Johanna misses one, and Hob and Dream have another 'incident'...

[thesuperiorgenshinaddict]

Angel Dust N$FW Alphabet

AN: i was trying to see what other ppl write abt angel dust for motivation or something but there's like almost nothing. am i crazy??? i found a singular ns//fw alphabet about him. someone please write about him thanks xoxo also for these i'm assuming that you're in a relationship w/ him or at least really friendly fuckbuddies Pairing: Angel Dust x GN! Reader Warnings: Sexual content, Switch! Angel Dust, Valentino mentioned, Self-Hatred, idk it's mainly just sweet nasty fluffy bullshit. actually disgustingly sweet blergh

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) His job revolves around sex. He's done this tons of times, makes sure you're feeling okay and gets you drinks and snacks and whatever you need. Takes a bath with you afterwards and if you're feeling too tired to get up, he'll just carry you over and clean you up and tucks you into bed afterwards. Forehead kisses, woo!

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Despite him constantly flexing about how attractive he is, I feel like he probably feels disgusted at himself sometimes. Thinks that he's just an object of sexual attraction after a long day at work. Make sure you tell him about how lovely he is. I'm highkey trying to think of a single horny thing to put in here to make him seem less depressed but I can't think of anything. Uhhh, fuck.

He loves every part of you, so I can't really think of anything in particular. Likes holding the area between your hips and waist for support or holding you under him, whatever your preference is. He's versatile.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) The dude's done so many things with cum. Would swallow it and loves seeing it all over your or his body. This was more of a brain rot thought, but I randomly thought about how he's a spider. Hear me out. His cum's like the fucking spider web material but in a more watery form. It's a bit hard to wash out and gets abso-fucking-lutely everywhere. Tastes relatively basic, but the texture makes it a bit strange. Great, just wait until future jobs pull this up and ask me if I'm attracted to spiders. I'm cooked.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) For a second I was just going to type STD with a shit ton of exclamation marks, but we can go hope that Valentino's stars are tested. I really don't think Angel Dust has a lot of 'dirty secrets' considering how his job makes him do a lot of different things.

This is like the second time I've pulled this exact thing where I turn this into a completely non-dirty secret but he loves soft sex. Is this because every character I write presents as a blatantly horny fuckwad? Gee, I might have to switch it up soon with a less horny person. Or demon. Whatever.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) We already knew what was going to be written here. He's seen and done everything. Even though his job requires him to exaggerate moaning and whatever, he knows what feels good and what's not sexy. He would catch on to where you're the most sensitive and target that.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) He doesn't have a favorite one, but he enjoys the ones where he can see your face so he can lean close and give you a little peck on the lips. Angel's main priority is to make sure you're feeling good, so if you're wanting it to be a bit more rough, he's down for doggy style or whatever kinky shit ya throw at him. I'm resisting the urge to just say 'ya' instead of you for the rest of this thing. Fuck, his talking style is worming it's way into my daily conversations too. It's infectious (like the herpes he probably has. I'm sorry the opportunity was just too perfect LMFAO)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Leaning more on the joking side. He'll say like twenty sex jokes per round, minimum. I don't even think I'm exaggerating there considering how majority of his script in the show was literally just innuendos. If you're feeling upset, he'd make sure to tone the jokes down and be a bit more romantic and everything. None of the jokes are degrading though, they're always on the lighter side since he knows how vulnerable sex is. There's this drabble I really want to put in but it's way more AMAB! leaning, maybe I'll write a little thing about him later on a separate post. (most subtle self-promotion /s)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) I'm thinking rather completely clean or trimmed. Since his job needs him to look good, he always makes sure he's in good condition. It's pretty much the same shade as his hair with maybe a slight pink tinge to it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Hope ya read the AN part because I'm assuming you're close to him. In that case, he's pretty romantic about it. Tells you how good you're doing and peppers your face with kisses. Overloads you with compliments.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Honestly, he's exhausted from work so he never really has a reason to masturbate (unless Valentino has it in one of his scripts). Usually just flops down into his bed and cuddles with Fat Nuggets. Although, he'd find some mutual masturbation attractive. If he accidentally walks in on you masturbating to him, he'd totally tease you about it. Maybe. I don't even know at this point. I think my brain's dissecting itself

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Bondage (Giving or receiving), Body Worship (Giving or receiving), damn this shit is mild asf I'm trying to think of literally anything else and I can't uhhhhhh... Idk oral probably

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) He'd probably prefer somewhere more private. I don't think he'd completely be against public/semi-public sex, but it's more of the fact that he's famous and would rather get paid for giving people a show. Horniness aside though, I think he would rather just be in a cozy place to fuck.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) This one's kinda random but I feel like he'd be super into it if you showed off one of your talents. It doesn't even have to be physical, but like if you did some shit like idk math or something (please not math) he'd call you some flirty ass nickname mildly related to the subject at hand and do some dirty talking.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) He'd definitely get fucking flaccid if you're anything like Valentino. That being if you force him into a situation where he has no control whatsoever or if you're too harsh with him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Due to his occupation, he does giving way more often since he's pushed into a power bottom role. He rarely gets blowjobs, so he'd definitely enjoy it a ton, especially if it's more of a soft, romantic mood. His skill for giving is a 9.5-10/10 since he's been doing this shit for decades.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Oh my god. If I have to write 'oh yeah his job makes him do yadadada buuuuutttt' ONE MORE FUCKING TIME I'm actually going to start bawling my eyes out. I feel like if you've read this far and intended on reading with one hand, you're probably bored out of your mind already. I'm so sorry Buuutttt youuu guessseddd it. Enjoys both, likes slow a lot too cuz he doesn't get intimate stuff often yap yap yap uhghghghghghh im so sorry dude this must be so boring to read i'm sorry reader

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Quickies are pretty convenient for him, since Valentino makes him work often so he doesn't mind a quick sesh before heading off to work. If for whatever reason he has a break (or he magically quits his job), I think he'd probably prefer taking his time, but if he's in a rush or there's something he needs to do, he'll find a random secluded area for a quickie. I read that as quiche.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) If you can find something he never did before, then yeah, totes. Can't believe I said totes in 2024. Fuck. Anyway, there's no way it's that different from what he's done before because it really just boils down to 'idk just gotta get jizz', which is his talent.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) He's used to taking long ass night shifts so he can go for a ton. I think he'd just go for 3~ when he has time, I don't think he's that desperate to fuck outside of work because he's probably pretty drained already. Thinking of that in the literal sense is lowkey nasty

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Owns a good bunch because he probably gets gifts from fans which end up just being dildos and vibrators and ass plugs or something. Like I said in the masturbation one, I don't think he really needs to use them that often, but he might use a dildo every now and then. He'd probably bring them out occasionally when having sex.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) I feel like he's teasing throughout the day since all he's apparently fluent in horndog language and only communicates in sex jokes. Slander aside, during the actual sex sesh whenever that is, I think he wouldn't do edging for that long and just skip the foreplay.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) When recording, he heavily exaggerates his moaning and it probably became a habit. Good luck with trying to be subtle because his voice alone could probably blow some poor kid's ears up.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Dogshit at playing Uno. Wow I'm so creative. Who could've thought of Uno when they read wild card! Haha. Haha. Hah. Ha. Fuck, I'm so shit at writing. Who let me have a computer again?

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Y'know, when you look at him, I don't think your first though is 'big dick energy'. When he was alive, I think it'd probably have been 5-5.5 inches. Definitely very slim with a rosy pink at the tip. I know he's 8 ft, but I still don't get big dick energy so I'm just gonna go with 6-7 and call it a day.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Probably still very high despite getting fucked constantly, but if you're not feeling sexual, I don't think he'd try to push it too far. Unless you're looking for angst or toxic headcanons, then push that shit to max. Delicious, painful angst. Yum! That's mainly prior to episode 4 though, since they speedran his entire fucking arc and ended it in like 2 episodes. Thanks pacing, I really appreciate it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He doesn't fall asleep easily for a variety of reasons, so he'd scroll on his phone for a bit or something before sleeping with you if he trusts you enough. AN: well that was dogshit thanks i hated it /jk but maybe I just have beef with 'wholesome' things. imo this is probably the type of bullshit they say when 'anthony' and 'angel dust' are different because this was definitely anthony or whatever then. man i gotta make this shit more horny next time, think i'll do val or blitzo or verosika or idk someone who's horny. like and follow for more banger content guys boom (seriously though i feel like this was super lame i'm sorry)

[sleepysloth99]

Your Favorite Martian Headcanons, pt 2 of ?

This time, I'm doing it with Gen 2.

Puff Puff

He's going into therapy now. Gen 1.5 him was an asshole and now he's trying to improve.

He's in a huge situationship with Tig, trying to be better for her, but he kinda doesn't know how.

Despite his job as a waiter, it is better pay than his previous job.

Puff Puff lives with his grandma after she left the nursing home back in 1.5, but he lives there half-time. He leaves when he's either on tour with the guys or if he vanishes since he tends to do that sometimes. He always comes back, though. Surprisingly, he is very protective of his Meemaw.

He's made amends with people he's messed things up with. Him and Deejayne aren't friends but are on civil terms now.

He eventually got back in touch with Wilton (Nerdy dude from gen 1.5) and they talk a lot.

Deejay

Him and Deejayne are still very close! They facetime very often, and Deejayne invites him over during the holidays.

He uses online therapy since it's more in his budget, and he definitely finds YFM to be a therapeutic outlet.

His change of voice was because he got vocal lessons from Puff Puff and Benatar.

He got back in touch with estranged family.

Over the years since gen 1.5, Deejay is no longer the "voice of reason" since the guys all matured more and now the role of being the voice of reason is a little more evenly distributed among the 4 members.

He's still in charge of paying Netflix, though.

Axel

He decided to get buff since constant and structured movements helped him focus on his songs and calmed him down.

He's got folks somewhere, he doesn't know where. But he does know that his number one family is in an RV.

Both him and Puff Puff stopped being too mean to Benatar after he openly expressed a dislike for it.

Over the years, the guys have gotten closer as the four of them matured and understood the need to be more deeply connected in order to be a stronger band. As a result, Axel is more open to talking about how he feels now and encourages his bandmates to do the same.

He's still crummy with emotions, but he tries. He mostly uses the drums to convey his feelings.

He's getting treatment for his herpes back in gen 1.5. He's a lot more responsible with sex now.

Benatar

He actually became more assertive over the years. He's still polite, but he doesn't let anyone disrespect him anymore.

He teaches Axel English work and literary analysis since Axel was unable to finish high school.

He was initially picked on because he was the odd one out in terms of lifestyle. The other three were poor and had physically abusive parental figures in their lives. Benatar had a nice house and was well off, but his mother was emotionally, verbally, and mentally abusive, and his father was around but he wasn't emotionally available for Benatar and would frequently parentify him. This explains his passive and quiet demeanor in the past generations of Your Favorite Martian.

He plays GTA 5 and stops at the redlights, acts nice to everyone, but gets headshots every mission, gold every mission, and he stalks pedestrians at night. Don't worry, he stalks all genders of NPCs at night. He's also terrifyingly good at escaping the cops.

He had Puff Puff sing "Real Girl" for him because he's still too shy to sing a whole song by himself. He hasn't done that since "Jupiter."

In the world where Your Favorite Martian takes place, humans in the human world are presented as works of fiction. In our world, Your Favorite Martian is a cartoon band. In the world of Your Favorite, however, humans are works of fiction. We come in the form of movies, books, and other sources of media. Each person in the world is a work of fiction of some sort. With all that said, Benatar wrote "Real Girl" because of his "fictional" crush on a girl from a movie he watched. The movie was about the girl as the protagonist and her life as a young woman navigating the world of womanhood. Benatar made this song because he knew that the screen was a barrier separating two worlds, hence why he called her a "Real Girl" even though in his world, she is a fictional character.

[cellarspider]

17/30 Inappropriate relations between hugger and face

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to the movie that is a menace to itself and society at large, Prometheus. 

Content warning for gore, death, orifice invasion, and, unsurprisingly,

Time to kill the sacrificial side characters! Well, at least, kill the ones that have names and distinct personalities, so that you are expected to feel somewhat bad for them. And I do. They didn’t do anything bad enough to deserve this movie.

I mean, they’re going to die because the movie turns them into morons to make this scene work, but hey. They’re still doing better than the guy who managed to insult his life partner’s father, faith, and infertility in the course of two minutes.

This part of the movie, in fact, leans fully into 80s-90s slasher tropes. The people who’re having sex are all going to have various bad things happen to them throughout the movie, with their severity and dignity depending on whether they display traits considered virtuous. But Fifield the geologist has committed the cardinal sin of hotboxing his suit’s air supply while they wait out the night in the creepy alien structure, so he shall be among the first to die. 

To make this work, they have decided to spend the night in the room right next to the decapitated alien body they refused to get near before. They do not seem to mind it now, nor do they find it worrying that the room on the other side of it is full of the black oil from the X-Files.

This is one of the other infamous scenes that everybody remembers about this movie. Millburn is not doing anything that a morally punitive slasher movie would declare worthy of death, but he is going to behave like a moron.

Remember I said ages ago that there was a cut scene where he apparently showed real reverence for the existence of non-humanoid, unintelligent alien life? That was meant to provide context for why he’d be so excited to see the world’s most genital-faced snake.

We, the audience, know that this is probably what’s become of some alien worms last seen being exposed to the Ominous Black Goo. Why didn’t it fully melt them like the Engineer at the start? Not explained! We, the audience weird enough to remember Prometheus twelve years after it came out, should also know that when a snake-like creature rears up, flares open a hood, and makes hissing noises, you should not try to get close to that critter. That is an angry critter, and it is going to do angry things to you.

Millburn is presented as the kind of herp-lover who finds a snakey critter cute, so he should know this too. He does not. That is impressively bad. The one impressively good thing about this scene is that the creature is largely a practical effect, save for in moments where it needs to move in ways a puppet can’t. At the same time, it’s unfortunately hard to tell that it’s real, due to its texture. This helps hide the transitions to CG, but it also leaves you less convinced that it’s there. Sometimes a more obvious puppet can still feel more threatening, because they are indisputably there.

Still, this scene is, despite the stupid context, effective at most of what it wants to do: creating a sudden, brutal spike of violence, with one small creature managing to act as an unstoppable force. Millburn’s arm is broken, Fifield is sprayed with acid blood as he tries to help and falls face-first into the black ooze, leaving Milburn to be killed by the creature as it breaks into his suit and crawls down his throat. It hits two of the usual beats of an Alien movie: acid blood, and overtones of sexual violation.

It made me feel squeamish, although that might have something to do with the fact that it has a weird parallel to a sci-fi comedy movie that had some unpleasant marketing back when I was a wee Spider: Evolution. Apparently, back in 2001, it was considered comedic to watch a giant mosquito crawl under the skin of a man’s thigh and imply that it bit him in the balls. Wee Spider did not agree with this assessment, and so now that’s burnt into my psyche.

The crew of the Prometheus is none the wiser, because nobody kept a watch on the two of them. The last interaction they had was Janek saying ‘hey, we detected movement in there with you, probably just a glitch tho, nbd’ before wandering off to have sex with Vickers.

I want to remind everyone that this is the movie that wants to deal with themes including but not limited to:

The creation and purpose of humanity

The ethical implications of creating human-level artificial intelligence

How religion intersects with science and crises of faith

Are we truly capable of grappling with any of the above

Genocide

This movie is an absolute mess. It is beautifully shot, and a competent shock-horror film when it feels like it, but that accounts for a fraction of its runtime, and basically none of the dialog.

It also fails at building tension for scenes like these, because it undercuts Alfred Hitchcock's principle of cinematic tension:

[Video description: An excerpt from a lecture by Alfred Hitchcock:

"Four people are sitting around a table, talking about baseball, whatever you like. Five minutes of it, very dull. Suddenly, a bomb goes off. Blows the people to smithereens. What do the audience have? Ten seconds of shock. Now take the same scene, and tell the audience there's a bomb under that table, and will go off in five minutes. Well the whole emotion of the audience is totally different, because you've given them that information. That in five minutes time, that bomb will go off. Now the conversation about baseball becomes very vital. Because they're saying to you, "Don't be ridiculous, stop talking about baseball, there's a bomb under the table!" You've got the audience working. Now the only difference is--and I've been guilty of, in the picture Sabotage, of making this error, but I've never made it since--The bomb must never go off. Because if you do, you've worked that audience into a state, and then they'll get angry because you haven't provided them with any relief. That's almost a must. So a foot touches the bomb, somebody looks down, says "My god, there's a bomb." Out of the window, then it goes off, just in time."

]

Prometheus tells you, over and over again, that the characters are in danger. Why are they in danger? Because they deliberately put themselves there. It's like they're a bunch of ordinance disposal experts sitting around Hitchcock's table, one of them nudges the bomb with their foot, and they look down and say "Huh! That's neat. Hey, take a poke at this, guys!"

The last bit of Hitchcock's principle is moot in this type of horror film, because there are only some characters that are positioned as being worthy of real worry on the part of the audience, which Prometheus also undermines--but not entirely. We still have a ways to go before they take his advice on that, though.

Next time: 

Many posts ago, I responded to Holloway’s behavior with an invocation of Clue:

The tables shall soon turn!

⛬

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

Citations for alt-text rambles

https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/thats-a-penis 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tooms 

https://www.buzzfeed.com/adambvary/something-terrible-has-happened-here-the-crazy-story-of-how

[richardsletters]

"Robin Hi Heres a little bit about Cleópatra… She was very inteligente speaking nine languages. A good diplomat had amazing powers of persuasion She married her twelve year old brother Ptolemy and after He passed away she married her even younger brother she then later married Marc Antony… She had four children three boys one girl after Marc Antony passed away she held na asp to her breast letting it bite her. She was 39 when she died. Heres a few jokes Woman walks into Dr's office, Dr tells her to take off pants starts rubbing her thighs asks Do you know what Im doing Yes she says chesking for health finally he tells her to take off panties lays her on table starts having sex with her Do you know what Im doing Yes she replies getting herpes thats why Im here. ha Couple were in bed girl tells guy to put finger into her pussy then 2-3-4 fingers then whole hand then she says moaning loud put both your hands inside so guy puts both of his hands in now clap your hands girl looks at him and says see I told you I had a tight pussy. Well thats all for now. Write soon. Love <3 Richard "

[drdemonprince]

Is "safe sex" even real? Never done it so idk but you mentioned risk profiles once. I feel like demographically I've got a higher risk profile and the anxiety about that really prevents me from going and trying anything. Do you think that's overly anxious in a negative way?

"safe sex" is a really misleading and binary term. There is never any guarantee of safety in anything we do. Every choice we make comes with risks. Hell, choosing not to connect with other people sexually (if you have any desire to) does ITSELF come with its own risks and costs over time.

The chase after perfect, guranteed safety will only lead to us feeling powerless and afraid, because it is an impossibility. All that we can do is inform ourselves of the risks, mitigate the risks we are the most concerned about and that affect others, and then knowingly accept what risks we still face as the cost of leading a full, enjoyable life.

When we inform ourselves about risk mitigation, we learn there are certain steps that we should probably take to protect ourselves and others if we are engaging in behavior that carries risk. If you're having sex with a complete stranger, it's probably smart to use a condom. If you have sex regularly you might want an HPV vaccine or to be on PreP to prevent HIV transmission. When you meet up with people you should get tested for COVID. You should get vaccinated against COVID. If you want to get suspended in rope from the ceiling don't use a hardware store $3 carabeener, get the good shit from the rock-climbing supply store. Things like that.

But even if you use a condom, you might get herpes or HPV or crabs or a yeast infection. Even if you never have sex, you might already have herpes or HPV or crabs or a yeast infection. I've had several of those things, including some of the "scarier" sounding ones, and they're really not that big a deal. They're just a thing that happens in life. Most people have them. You pop a Valtrex when you have symptoms, you shove a suppostiory up your vulva when it itches, you sleep without underwear on, you communicate with partners, you move on with your life.

Sure, I do what I can to avoid the risks I am most concerned about. I take PreP right now because not getting HIV would be preferable to me. But I could still live if I got it. I am informed about the realities of living with HIV today, which makes that fear more manageable. It is easier for me to make carefully considered and yet realistic decisions surrounding my risk profile because I can confront the realities that scare me and learn more about them.

The body is not separable form its environment. We are connected to our surroundings and the people around us, and our bodies get sick, catch viruses, grow old, get messy, and die inevitably and return to the earth. With our one life, we each have to choose what is most important to us and what potential costs we can stand. But with each year that passes, a cost to our bodies is already incurred, and there's nothing we can do to prevent aging and death from coming our way.

So what would you like to do while you are around? Would you like to have sex with condoms? Go on PreP? Get the HPV vaccine? Take random loads in a glory hole? Make out and dry hump with a cutie at a party and catch her cold sore? Cross the street in the dark after looking both ways? Go out dancing so late that your sleep is disrupted for the whole week? Get your heart broken? Have a great all-consuming love? Have children? Endure a torn labia while giving birth? Try psychedelics? Go on a swinger's cruise? Get a UTI from spermicide? Roleplay online instead of meeting in person? Fuck people with a strap-on?

The choice is yours. And no choice you make will be perfect or come without risk. No life is safe. Accepting loss is one of the necessary tasks of leading a life. But you can educate yourself, reflect on what you most want out of life and what you fear, and then take steps to demystefy your worst fears and mitigate the risks that loom largest to you and the people you care about.

Whatever you decide, I hope you have some fun.

[thatgoblin]

~::~ Summary: After a drunken night with a man name John, Reader finds herself in a position they had never thought they would be in. ~::~ Fem!Reader, 1st POV.

[WARNINGS: Brief pelvic exam, swearing, grief, sibling death, family issues, vague speak of abortion, cursing, unplanned pregnancy, vague-ish descriptions of drunk sex]

::AN-This is just part one of the series, I'll go through the whole pregnancy and maybe after. Enjoy!::

Tequila was always responsible for my mistakes. I should have kept my promise of never having more than one shot, but that quickly went out the window when I bumped into him. He was tall and handsome and smelled of scotch and tobacco. I was pretty sure I complimented his mutton chops and that’s how it started. A few beers and more than a couple of shots later, I was pressed against his door as we kissed like drunk college students during Rush Week. Eventually we made it into his house with giggles and drunk stumbling, at least getting to his bed before the main event. 

I was going to have beard burn by the end, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that I was half undressed as the man ate me out like he’d been starving for it. While I don’t remember every single detail, the broad strokes of the night were there, I knew I had had a good time at least. It probably wasn’t the olympic level of sex I thought it was at the time, it was still pretty good. The next morning, he made me coffee, told me his name was John and if I ever wanted to have another fun night again to give him a call.

“So, why haven’t you called him?” My friend Jesse asked as we sat at a table in a cafe, once I'd finished telling him about John. I had called him and asked for some adult talk because holy shit did I need it. 

“Because I honestly forgot, but now I really do need to call him buuuut I lost his number,” I said. 

“Oh no, did you get the clap?” He asked, shirking away.

“Worse,” I groaned, leaning back in my seat. 

“Ew, herpes?” He asked, scrunching his face up.

“Even worse,” I said, putting a hand to my belly. “A lot more noticeable than herpes in the next few months.” 

“Oh. . . Oh shit,” he said, raising his brows. “I mean, are you sure it’s his?”

“I’ve only slept with one person in the last four months thanks to my ex, so yeah, I’m sure it’s John’s,” I grumbled. I knew that would be everyone's question, probably even John's, but it still didn't feel great to hear.

“Sorry, just checking,” he said, holding up his hands. “So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. It’s. . . It’s still early and it’s not like he HAS to know as I’m not sure I want to keep it,” I said, poking my sponge cake with a fork. “I don’t even want kids. I never planned on it, not even with Paul and he was my longest relationship.”

“Oh Paul,” Jesse said wistfully. “It’s all his fault that this happened. If he hadn’t cheated on you so many times, then you wouldn’t have been looking for a rebound.”

“Well the tequila didn’t help either,” I snorted. “Doesn’t make a difference. I’ve still got to make a decision and it’s getting close to the deadline for the permanent one.”

“Have you gone to a doctor yet?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah, right after I took the pee test at home. I wanted to make sure so I didn’t panic over nothing,” I said. “They said I’m about 7 weeks along. I didn’t want to do any tests other than the blood lab, and since I could give them the date of my last encounter, they were able to figure it out from there.”

“Man, that’s wild. Have you told anyone else? Your family?”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” I choked out as I sat up. “They will never know if I can help it. No matter the outcome, they are not in my life for a reason.”

“Because they’re fucking psychotic?”

“Because they’re fucking psychotic. Damn right,” I huffed. It had been so long since I’d had any contact with my family. My parents were still back in Inverness for all I knew and my older brother was somewhere with the military. Last I had heard was that he’d made it to Sergeant in SAS and that was because I had run into an old friend from school. It had felt so sad to find out through gossip essentially. Someone I had been so close to growing up was now a complete stranger.

“So, if you keep it, can I be the Daddy?” Jesse asked with a grin.

“Jesse, you can barely keep your rabbit alive, I’m not letting you parent my fake plants let alone anything that comes out of me,” I groaned, shifting to sit up.

“Hey, Sassafras is doing amazing and he’s even getting a brother soon. Don’t be bad mouthing my babies,” Jesse pouted. 

“Sorry, sorry,” I said, rubbing my face. “I shouldn’t be taking the stress out on you. That’s not fair and I’m sorry.”

“Those hormones are messing you up, BAD,” he said. 

“Yeah, they are. I don’t get sick at least, but the mood swings are giving even ME whiplash." I was silent for a moment, contemplating the possibility of telling John. The good, the bad, and the more than likely to happen heart break if I made an attempt to have something outside of our one night stand. 

Paul had done a number on me. We’d been together since secondary school on and off, but the last four years we had become so close and in tune with each other. We could tell when the other needed something without saying anything and were genuinely happy where we were. I had been at least. It turns out he’d been fucking some hen from his work the entire time and had gotten her pregnant. When that happened, a switch had flipped and I didn’t know the man anymore. He moved out when I had gone to work one day, leaving me in a lurch with rent and a place that I had so many happy memories with him in. 

"Maybe it’s better if I just don’t tell him,” I said softly, shaking my head. “I mean, we could be really bad together. All I know is that he’s in the military and is never around. If I wanna raise anything, I want my partner to be there with me and I already hate being alone. I’d probably lose my mind if it was just me and it on our own. Besides, he probably doesn’t want something like this. Otherwise he’d have it by now.” The man was good looking, funny, and with a military career, he could have married someone and had kids with them by now. 

“True, but what if you guys work really well together?” 

I went quiet, trying not to let a fantasy of me and John form. Paul proved that it doesn’t matter how long you were with someone or how close you got, they will still break your heart when you least expect it and act like it was nothing. 

“Don’t let him ruin your future, Boo,” Jesse said, reaching over to take my hand. “He’s taken enough from you. There’s no reason to let him have more.”

“I know,” I said softly, squeezing his hand. “I just wish I knew what to do. If someone could tell me for sure if me and John would work out or not, that would be amazing.”

“Well, I’m sorry that I left my crystal ball at home,” he said, letting go. “But maybe give it a try. At least you can say you gave it a go.”

“Yeah, but I have to find the guy first and I don’t remember his number or where he lives,” I said. 

“Well, how about putting that detective brain of yours to work? You watch all those crime dramas, why not use it in real life?” He asked.

“Because this is real life and not DCI Banks,” I said, giving him a pointed look.

“Just retrace your steps. Do you remember the bar you met him at? Maybe he’s a regular,” Jesse said, rolling his eyes. 

“True. That’s actually a really good idea,” I said, tapping my chin in thought. “I mostly remember what he looks like too. Well more than mostly, I could probably pick him out in a lineup. He was really good looking.”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely going to help you find him. Just ask the bartender for the really good looking guy,” Jesse snickered.

“Shush. Well, it seems that the, uh, Shit, what do I call it?” I asked. 

“Are you asking me what to call the fetus inside you?” Jesse asked, raising his brows. 

“Yeah.”

“Just call it Bug. You know? Or even Bean. It’s like, what, the size of a grape?”

“Little smaller. I think the internet said it was the size of a blueberry.”

“That would be cute, but it also sounds like a safeword,” Jesse snickered.

“English people do really like beans,” I said. “Let’s go with Bean.”

“You’re English too!” Jesse cackled.

“No I’m not! I’m Scottish! There’s a difference!” I cried, throwing a napkin at his face that he easily caught. “Fucking American with your Mountain Man accent telling me I’m English. My Last name is MacTavish, that’s not fucking English.”

“I’m Appalachin, Darlin’. I’m not just any Mountain Man,” Jesse grinned. 

“I’ll be sending you back by punting you over the ocean if you don’t knock it the fuck off,” I hissed. 

“The mood swings are going to be killer with you,” Jesse snickered.

“Don’t,” I sighed. “Just don’t. But it seems I'm keeping the Bean after all."

“Good luck. I mean it. Being a single parent ain’t easy, but you’re not on your own with this. Even without John, okay?” He said, reaching over to squeeze my hand again. 

A few days after my lunch with Jesse, I was at the bar that I had originally found John at. It was packed for a Thursday night and the thick smell of alcohol was making me nauseous. Getting to the bar, I flagged down the bartender in hopes they would know him.

“What can I get ya, Love?” He asked, leaning in so he could hear me. 

“I’m actually looking for someone,” I said, climbing up to kneel in the seat so I could lean over the bar. “I don’t know if he’s a regular or not, but I figured I’d try.”

“Sure, what’s his name?”

“John. I don’t have a last name, but he’s tall and built, has dark sandy hair with a mutton chops beard. I think he’s in the military,” I said.

“Oh yeah! John Price! He and his men are regulars,” the bartender nodded. “Just saw him a few days ago actually. What do you want him for?”

“Well, I’ve got something for him that he left when I last saw him and I only got his first name and haven’t been able to find him,” I said. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find him other than here, could you?”

“Sorry, I only know him from here. Maybe if you come back tomorrow he might be here. He usually shows up a bit earlier than this,” the man said with a shrug. I nodded and thanked him, giving him a few quid for the help. I decided that I could hang around and see if he still shows up that night while I dug around to see what I could find on social media. 

Getting a Shirly Temple, I grabbed a corner seat and spent about an hour trying to find him online, but the man was a ghost. Nothing. No Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, not even a LinkedIn. What was I supposed to do? Give my number to the bartender and hope he remembered to give it to John? That is if he would. He’d probably just toss it. There was no way I was leaving my number on a board in hopes he’d see it. That was how I would end up on a true crime Youtube channel. 

About to call it a night and escape the bar that was building a headache in the base of my skull, I shot a text to Jesse to let him know I tried the bar and at least got a last name. As I turned to put my phone in my purse, the chair opposite of me was pulled out. Looking up, I couldn’t believe my dumb luck.

“Heard you were looking for me,” John said with a chuckle. His deep, gravelly voice was just like I remembered it as he was grunting in my ear while he-

“Yes, I am,” I said with a nervous laugh. “I, uh, know that it’s been a while since we last saw one another and I planned to call you, but I lost your number.”

“You know you don’t have to make up a story if you want to have a pint with me,” he said, a soft smile peeked from under his whiskers. 

“Oh, no, I really lost your number,” I said, straightening up in my chair. “I also have the memory of a goldfish, so when I realized I had lost it, it was too late. But you’re here now.”

“That I am,” he said, nodding with a hum. Almost getting completely lost in his shining blue eyes, I quickly gave him my full name. 

It was very clear as to why I had started to flirt with him in the first place. The way he looked at me, making me feel like he knew exactly what he wanted and it was me. 

“It’s nice to get a full name, after almost two months,” he said. “It’s lovely to meet you, I’m John Price.” He held out his hand for me to shake and damn it, I was melting into his touch. His hand was warm and rough, but firm. “So, were you seeking me out for an introduction or maybe I could buy you a drink?”

“Uh, I was actually looking for you because. . . Well. . .” It felt like the words were getting stuck in my throat, trying to choke me to make me leave and pretend nothing happened. 

“You want another go where we’re a bit more sober and able to have more fun?” John offered with a wink as he leaned forward to sip his beer he’d brought over with him.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out. He furrowed his brow, staring at me.

“Congratulations?” He asked slowly.

“That’s why I was looking for you,” I said with a heavy sigh. “I’m pregnant and about 7 weeks along. If you do the math. . .”

“I see,” he said, nodding. Sitting back in his chair, he fiddled with a coaster, staying quiet for a moment. I didn’t want to push it or scare him, so I was patient. “And you’re sure it’s mine?” 

I had prepared myself for that question, made sure it wouldn’t bother me by asking myself that same thing over and over, but hearing his tone and seeing that flash of doubt on his face made me want to hide in shame. I didn’t shame people for how many people they had slept with and while I didn’t have sex with strangers, it felt like suddenly I was this ‘loose’ person that was trying to get every single dick they could and use the system to get free stuff. The next nine months were going to be hell on my body, but sure, I only did it for free stuff and to control a man I had met ONCE.

“You’re the only person I’ve slept with in the last four months. So, yeah. I’m very sure,” I said, feeling my chest start to tighten. Anxiety began to twist my stomach like I was wringing my hands under the table. “I don’t want anything,” I added, nearly choking on my own spit. “I mean, I don’t want you to feel like you owe me or the Bean anything. I just wanted you to know, so if you did want to participate at all, you could. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Again, I just thought that you had a right to know.”

“That did go through my mind,” John said with hesitation. “I know you said you don’t want anything, but it wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t help out at all. A support check at least.”

“That. . . That’s up to you. I’m not going to take you to court over it. I figured if you ever want a relationship with the Bean, then we can work something out. I’ll keep you updated on anything you want to know or I can just leave you alone,” I said. That part was hard. I didn’t want to be a single mum and I didn’t want to be alone, but I also didn’t know John. How many relationships went sour because two people had a kid and chose to stay together instead of separate because they thought it would be better for the kid? Too many. 

“I think I’d like to know,” he said, looking up from the coaster to me. “I’d like to be involved as much as I can be.”

“Okay,” I said, twisting my napkin more. “Okay, we can do that. Um, I have a doctor’s appointment next week. If you want, you can come. It’s just a general check up.” 

“Yeah, I can do that. Just let me know the time and place. Do you want to meet there or I can pick you up?” He offered, that look coming back again. John knew what he wanted, but I couldn’t tell if it was me or the Bean. That wasn’t something I thought I would need to worry about. Would he think I wasn’t fit to be a parent by myself? Did he have family that could raise the Bean and think it would be better if they did? The prospect of being betrayed to have the Bean taken away was suddenly very real and terrifying.

“We can meet there. Here’s my number, so you can keep it and I can’t lose it again,” I said, sliding my phone over to show him my number. He added my number to his phone before adding his to mine then sliding it back to me. “I’ll go ahead and send you the details. Um, okay, I just realized how, well, how silly this sounds, especially after me giving you my information, but I just thought of it. You aren’t a crazed serial killer, are you?”

John let out a bark of a laugh, his shoulders shaking as he chuckled. “No, no. Nothing like that. I’m just a captain in SAS.” 

“That’s what it was,” I groaned. “I knew it was military, but I couldn’t remember exactly what it was.”

“To be fair, I didn’t exactly tell you,” he said, leaning forward again, much more relaxed by my ice breaker question. “So what is it that you do?”

“I’m a restaurant manager for an Italian place on the south side of town. Ciao Bella.”

“I’ve heard of the place. Always good things. I haven’t eaten there before, but now I might,” John said. 

“It’s a pretty good place. I recommend it and not just because I work there.”

The longer we talked, the more comfortable I felt with him. I still wasn't sure if he wanted me or the Bean, but it was starting to look like both of us. When I was ready to go home, he offered to drive me home and when I declined, not for lack of him trying, he walked me out to hail me a taxi. There was a bit of awkwardness at the good night part. Did we kiss? Did we high five or wave? In the end, I gave him a one armed side hug that he happily returned. 

Once I was in the taxi and down the street, my phone buzzed with a message. 

'I forgot to ask, but why do you call the baby The Bean?' I snorted and shook my head. 

'Because you English really like beans and that's the size of it right now.'

'You're English too.'

'No, I'm Scottish! There's a difference!'

'You’re right. Out of curiosity, are you related to or know a Johnny MacTavish?'

Fuck.

'Is he from Inverness, Scotland?'

'Yes. You know him?'

I had screwed up. I had seriously screwed up. I couldn't bring myself to answer him, not even when he called once I got home. It had been almost a decade and I still couldn't bear to think of him. He was supposed to be the good one. He was supposed to help me and comfort me and instead he abandoned me. If John knew him then I couldn't be around John. I couldn’t put myself or the Bean through what I had gone through the last time I’d seen him.

Once inside my flat and my door locked, I turned off my phone so I didn't have to listen to it buzz with calls and messages. How could I explain to him even the very basics to begin with? I couldn't without giving away every dirty, dark detail of why I cut him out of my life to begin with. 

Laying in bed as I felt sick, I couldn't help but think that I made a mistake. I never should have looked for John and I never should have told him. It could have been dealt with quietly and quickly and I wouldn't be so attached to it. Wrapping my arms around my belly, I started to cry. Why did I try and do the ‘right thing’ for myself? It never worked out, it wouldn’t be any different from Paul. He’d find out and he’d either leave or take the Bean or worse, would make me believe he was a good person till I truly needed him and it turned out to be a lie the whole time.

When I had ghosted John, I don’t know why I thought he’d just disappear. Why would he, after finding out I’m pregnant with his Bean, not do anything to track me down and make sure I wasn’t dead in the gutter or smuggled to another counter? While I had no information to go off of to find him other than a bar, he had plenty for me. Between my phone number, my place of work, all the information on my social media, and the doctor’s appointment that I had given the details to, I was somehow surprised to find him waiting for me at the front of the clinic the day of my appointment. It had been almost a full week since I’d seen him and had been ignoring his calls and texts in hopes he’d either talk to Johnny and find out why it was better that way or would just give up. 

“Ah, shit,” I groaned under my breath, seeing him sitting on a bench as I walked down the street from my bus stop. John had already spotted me before I could try and go another way in, giving a wave as he stood up to meet me. 

“Do you want to talk about why you pulled a Houdini on me before or after the appointment?” He asked, meeting me halfway.

“Afterwards. I haven’t eaten today and I don’t have the energy to explain everything in great detail like you’ll want it to be,” I said with a sigh. 

“Why haven’t you eaten?” John asked, frowning a bit.

“I woke up late after pulling a double shift. Turns out when you’re pregnant you get tired much more easily and if you stop moving, you do fall asleep no matter where you are,” I said, rubbing my tired eyes. There were dark circles under my eyes for sure and I probably looked like I had rolled out of bed after a week of doing nothing. My clothes were wrinkled, my trainers dirty, and my hair unwashed for the last week. John meanwhile looked put together and had done everything on his to-do list for the next month in six hours. 

“Alright, yeah. We’ll go for food after this and we can talk,” he said with a nod. Turning, he opened the door for me, letting me lead the way to the receptionist. After checking in, we found a pair of seats together in the corner. As I looked around, I felt more shame creeping up. It was a government run clinic, which meant people who weren’t well off were there and that meant stereotypes. The mum with two kids screaming while pregnant with a third, one who didn’t look older than 15 with her own mother, and one who looked like she had nicotine patches on her arms as she bounced her leg and scowled at the room. It was what I could afford as I didn’t have private insurance and John didn’t seem the type to have been in a place like that before. At least in the UK. 

I began to worry if he was silently judging me, reconsidering everything about me because we were there and not some posh doctor’s office with pleasant music playing softly while pretty people with white, toothy smiles were all around. 

“Ms. MacTavish,” a nurse said from the door to the exam rooms. Standing up, John and I followed. She took my vitals and weighed me before taking us to a small room. 

“Do you want me to hold anything?” He asked softly, minding how the room made our regular voices sound like we were shouting. 

“Oh, yes, thanks,” I said, handing my purse and jacket. I hopped onto the exam table as he held my things, moving his chair closer to the head of the table instead of at my feet. At least he was being polite. We waited a bit in silence, but it was actually comfortable. It was odd, given most people would be talking about anything and everything to avoid the fact that I was about to have to take my pants off and have someone else stick their fingers inside my fanny. 

The doctor came in after a bit, knocking then coming in without an answer from me. She immediately went to wash her hands before looking over my chart, not looking at me yet. “Okay, Ms. McTavis, you are here for a regular pregnancy check up, and is this the father of the child?” She asked, misspeaking my name. The woman looked like she was either going to ask for a manager or call the police on someone for being too loud two houses down. 

“Yes, this is John,” I said, not even bothering to correct her. I probably wouldn’t see her next time, so it didn’t matter.

“And how long have you two been sexually active together?” She asked, continuing to read over my chart and make notes. 

“Um, just once,” I said, earning a raised brow from her. “We had a one night stand. What does that have to do with the visit?”

“Ah, are you sure he’s the father?” She asked, looking down at my chart to write a few things and ignoring my question.

“Yep, the only person I’ve slept with in four months.” This was a nightmare. It was one thing to go through this with just myself, but having John there to see and hear the questions was humiliating. If we had been married or a committed couple, it would be different, but because we weren’t, I was the irresponsible one.

“All it takes is just once with no condom or pill and here you are. Alright, go ahead and take your trousers and pants off and we’ll do a quick pelvic exam.” Instead of leaving the room, she drew a curtain around me after handing me a gown. I just tried to keep any signs of embarrassment to a minimum so we could get through this. 

“I can hold those for you, Love,” John said softly, once I was changed. He was standing up with his eyes down, but holding out his hand for me to give him my clothes. 

“Thanks,” I said in a near whisper, handing him my things before getting back on the table to put my feet in the stirrups. Letting out a breath, the curtain was drawn back and the doctor scooted in on her rolly stool with gloves on and ready to go. “Lube’s a bit cold,” she said, smearing it a bit before pushing in a finger then two. It felt so uncomfortable and hurt slightly, making me even more embarrassed that John was there to see it. She had to adjust my legs, spreading them wider and higher, making it harder on my body as she did the exam. 

This was completely different from him having his head buried between my legs or him seeing me completely naked on top of him. Part of me began to wonder if I was just stupid for offering to have him at appointments with this happening. I had probably scared him off for good. Parents who wanted kids, who were trying for them, this wouldn’t bother them. We had an accident and this was forcing us to be much more intimate in an alien way.

“I need you to stay there for a moment, I forgot to grab something from the supplies,” the doctor said, pulling the curtain so I wouldn’t flash anyone when the door opened. When it closed, I tried to keep my sigh quiet, but again, those fucking rooms made a whisper sound like borderline yelling. The quiet fell over us once more, but this time, John stood up to move his chair closer. Sitting back down, he was right next to the table. He reached up and took my hand in a loose hold, giving it a quick kiss as we waited. If I wasn’t so anxious or ready to throw up, I would have cried at his sweetness. 

Once the doctor came back, she finished her exam and said everything looked good and she’d see me in four weeks. After finishing her job, she closed the door behind her after letting me know to take my time if I needed to and just leave the door open when I left. John stood up, letting go of my hand, to grab some paper towels for me. I quietly thanked him as I cleaned up myself before taking my clothes back to dress. When I was done, he took my hand in his and walked me out of there. 

Outside, I felt better, but only so much. The close interior of the clinic and the chemical smell from disinfectants were not longer trying to smother me along with my embarrassment at least. Now I had to explain everything to John and expect him to be okay with it after making him sit through that?

“If you’d like, I could get you on my health plan and you could go see a different doctor,” he offered as we kept walking. I wasn’t really paying attention to the direction as my hunger was starting to overshadow everything else, my hands getting a bit shaky had him stopping us. He looked over my face as he held both my hands, silently taking stock of where I was at. “Let’s get some food in you before we talk about anything else, yeah?”

“Please,” I said, nearly bursting into tears. Goddamn hormones. Putting his arm around me, he led us to his car to drive us to the nearest restaurant. 

After we were inside and food was ordered, delivered, then devoured, that was when he started to talk again. 

“I meant it earlier,” John said, using a napkin to wipe his face clean of crumbs. “I can put you on my health plan and you’ll be able to go to a different place.”

“I appreciate it, but this is fine,” I said, tearing up pieces of bread to sop up any juices left from my meal. “It would be a mess to change providers and this is the easiest place to get to from my place by bus.”

“You know you can ask me to take you to your appointments. It’s not a problem,” he said, looking over my plate that I practically licked clean. “Want anything else to eat? My treat.”

“I feel like a broken record a bit, but it’s fine. I’m good,” I said, fibbing a bit. Ordering a small portion didn’t exactly work in my favor, but I didn’t feel comfortable relying on him much more than I already had allowed myself to. “As for my appointments, you won’t be able to take me all the time and when I hit 28 weeks I go every other week, then at 36 weeks it’s once a week. It’s a lot to ask of you and I can do it on my own. I promise, I’m an adult.”

“Even adults need help from time to time, besides, I said I wanted to be involved,” he said. When the waitress came around to ask if we wanted anything else, John turned to look at me and waited patiently. The waitress seemed to understand what he was waiting for as she turned to look at me with a sweet smile.

“I’ll have a burger and fries. Adult portions, well done,” I said after a few seconds of panic deliberating. The man seemed unable to stop himself from trying to take care of me as much as possible. That should have been a sign to me that he was a good person and would do anything for me and the Bean. He probably did that to a lot of people around him as well. The waitress took my order with a nod then was off.

“Now, about the health plan,” John said, picking up his mug of coffee. I could see the slight smile he was hiding behind it and wanted to slap it out of his hands. Ugh. He was going to drive me insane with being so nice and helpful.

“As long as I don’t have to marry you or move in with you to be on it,” I said with resignation. 

“Done,” he said. “I’ll get you the paperwork for you to fill out and that’ll be that.” 

“Sounds good,” I said. 

A quiet fell over us as he stared at me and I refused to look at him. I knew what he wanted and until he asked, and even then, I wasn’t going to offer it up. 

“So,” he said, setting his mug down to lean against the table on his elbows. 

“So,” I said, picking up my fork to swing a bit in my fingers as I leaned back in my chair.

“You’re Johnny MacTavish’s little sister?” 

“Depends on who you ask,” I said with a shrug.

“If I were asking you?”

“Then I would say that I don’t have any siblings or immediate family.”

“And if I asked him?” I looked at his words. John was watching me, every movement, every small twitch or tell. The man was waiting for me to lie or to tell him the truth.

“Then he’d tell you he had two younger sisters. One is deceased and the other is one that he and his parents don’t talk to or see,” I said, shifting in my chair. “You didn’t tell him, did you? About me or us or the Bean?”

“No,” John said, shaking his head. “I thought you two might be estranged partners at first, but I did my own digging.”

“Yeah? What’d you find out?” I pulled my legs up in the chair to sit criss cross, unable to keep his gaze for too long. 

“I found out you went to secondary school as Johnny was starting the military and your sister was working at a local shop. Once you graduated, you went a bit wild, I would say. Partying and such. Then your sister died in a drunk driving accident and you disappeared for a bit,” he said. “But I’m still not getting the answer as to why you ran when I mentioned Johnny.”

“That is because he and I don’t speak. I haven’t spoken to him or my parents in almost a decade. Basically since our sister died,” I said, keeping my gaze on the paper straw cover that I was folding. John was quiet, letting me get the words out on my own time. “I had been at a party that night and had been drinking. So, I called Saoirse to come pick me up. All my friends were pretty pissed at the time, so I thought I was doing the right thing, you know? Not leaving with the drunk people and getting a sober driver.” I swallowed hard, feeling my chest tighten as I tried not to let the images of that not conjure up in my head. I didn’t even get to know what happened fully till my cousin Mike told me and that was nearly two days later. 

He and my other cousin Seamus were the only family I still considered to be family. They were military like Johnny, special forces in SAS, but they were older. Mike was nearly 60 and Seamus was pushing mid 40s, but they had always been kind to me and never treated me differently. Especially Mike. He’d send presents for Christmas and my birthday, things I actually wanted while my parents would give me the bland socks or clothes that I hated. He still did when he could. All he had were his brother Paulie left as his parents were gone with no spouse or kids of his own. Mike got me through the grieving, but he never spoke up like Saoirse did. 

“She was on her way there when one of the guys that was at the party left, and he hit my sister when he was trying to race someone else that was drunk. When my parents found out where I had been and why she had been there, they blamed me for her death. Johnny wasn’t around much because he was off doing military stuff, so the only story he got was from them. I never got to explain to him what happened or find out what our parents told him. He wouldn’t look at me even at the funeral when the family was gathered together. I ended up drunk halfway through and left. No one followed me aside from my cousin Mike. He let me stay with him till I could get my own place. My parents didn’t try to find me or talk to me, neither did Johnny.” 

“I’m so sorry, Love,” he said softly, reaching over to take my hand that was starting to pick at my cuticles. “That must have been. . . That’s so hard.”

“Yeah,” I said with a snort, trying not to focus on it too much and have a melt down before I got my food. “Johnny never reached out to see if what they said was true, just trusted them despite the bullshit they always pulled with me. I have no clue what I did to them, but my parents always treated me differently. It wasn’t outright abuse, but I know they never did like me, let alone love me. Saoirse always stood up for me, whenever they gave me a hard time, she’d call them out on it. Johnny didn’t get to see much of it because he was always busy and he always believed our parents. They had never done anything wrong to him, so how could they be so bad?”

“Have you tried reaching out to him? Try explaining anything to him?” John asked, rubbing my palm. 

“I did once, but he acted like I was. . . Like I was some druggie asking for help to get their next fix. It was maybe six years ago. I saw him in passing in Glasgow. He said I needed to get help and stop asking for money, before I even said anything. Johnny told me that I was an adult and couldn’t live off of mum and dad forever. Apparently our parents had been telling him that I was constantly asking for money for beer or drugs or whatever and he didn’t question it. We used to be really close, you know? Right before he turned 16 and tried to join the military, we’d always be around one another. Him and me and Saoirse. I don’t know what changed, but once he was gone, he wasn’t my brother anymore. Just a stranger who didn’t have time or want for me.” 

Just as it was getting too much to talk about, my food arrived. While I didn’t have that much of an appetite after explaining myself, even leaving a lot out, I still needed to eat. John didn’t ask any more questions as I ate, though I’m sure he had some. Finished with my food in just a few minutes, I let my meal settle before asking my own question. 

“So, how do you know Johnny?” I asked, knowing it was something that we would have to work with instead of around.

“He and I are on the same deployment team, specialized task force if you will,” John said. “We work together and see each other almost daily when we’re not deployed.”

“So this is something that he will find out about,” I said, nodding as anxiety made my stomach roll. 

“I know you two aren’t on good terms, but I can’t hide this from him. I also didn’t know how. . . Sensitive it was,” he said. “I can tell him myself or we can tell him together, but he has to know.”

“Which means my parents will find out as well,” I said, feeling like I was losing any sense of control I had over the situation. It was quickly going into a very upsetting and unwelcome direction. 

“Possibly,” John said. “I know that this is asking a lot from you, from carrying the baby to having to speak with family you cut out of your life, but I want to make this work. I want to be there for our child and you.”

“You’re right this is asking a lot,” I said, nodding as I stood up. “I can’t do this John. I’m not even sorry, but I am being asked to do so much, no I’m being told to do so much. I know you want to be in Bean’s life, but I am sacrificing everything and you get to just waltz in like the hero with the medical plan and the money and the car to take me places. I’m not-I can’t. No, it’s not happening,” I said, walking out. John cursed before following me out. 

“Love, just wait,” he said, grabbing my arm. 

“No! You wait!” I snarled as I turned on him, yanking my arm away. “I am expected to give up everything and sacrifice my sense of safety and self worth for you! Not Bean, but you! Because you work with my brother who I haven’t seen in years and because you want me to go to the nice medical practice and you want me to do this and that and I don’t want to! I don’t have to! So just leave me alone and forget I ever found you again. I’ve been on my own long enough that I can take care of myself and Bean without you.”

“You don’t have to though,” John said. He was frustrated, scrubbing his face as he looked around to see people staring at us because of my outburst. “Just-”

“No, no justs!” I cried. “I want to be left alone. Don’t call me, don’t follow me, don’t message me, nothing!”

He looked so heart broken, so desperate to help, but didn’t know how to handle being denied. Part of me wanted to just break down into tears and hug him, plead for him to never leave me, but I knew. . . I fucking knew that this was a pipe dream. Anything he and I could ever be or have was a fantasy. As soon as Johnny or my parents found out, they’d poison John against me. Help him take the Bean if they wanted to. 

I stared hard at him for a few moments before turning to walk away. I was miles from my place, but I didn’t care. The walk would help me get rid of these feelings and wants and pointless dreams. It should have been clear from the start that I wasn’t going to have a house with a yard and a bright red door with a shining white archway. No 2.5 kids with someone I loved and an old dog or cat we found while dating. I saw who I was at the clinic. The mum with two kids screaming, a third on the way while trying to handle it all on their own. That was my future.

Days passed and John kept his distance. I didn’t attempt to contact him and he did the same. After a while it felt normal again aside from getting sick at the slightest strong smell. I hadn’t escaped the dreaded ‘morning’ sickness after all. Work was hard, but I got through it, even if it meant leaving when the food began to be cooked and coming in early. Hitting 10 weeks felt like it took forever. The mood swings were still awful and my breasts were tender and swollen. I was getting a more noticeable bump too. It was easy to hide, but standing in front of a mirror in my underwear showed that there was indeed a Bean growing inside me. 

The worst part was my blood pressure. Somehow I had very low blood pressure despite the stress I was under. Low enough that if I was still for too long I would start to pass out. A quick clinic visit had me upping my salt intake and water. It wasn’t bad if I was at home, I could just sit in the floor till the feeling passed. I hadn’t experienced it outside of the house, yet. 

Mid week 11, I finally went to the store instead of eating out. I wasn’t feeling great, but I was doing what I could. Pushing the trolly up the bread aisle, I was looking for the one type of bread I knew I could stomach when fate decided that it was time for things to come to a head. 

As I was reaching for the bread, standing as tall as I could on my tippy toes, a hand reached up and grabbed it. 

“Here you go,” a familiar voice said. I turned to look at the person with wide eyes, both of us having a moment of disbelief. 

“Hey, Soap, don’t forget the-” 

Son of a fucking bitch.

“Oh,” John said as he saw me and Johnny staring at one another. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, never taking his eyes off me. “Just helping this nice lady get some bread.” 

I never had a hair trigger to cry before, but the moment he said that instead of saying he knew me, it broke me. Bursting into tears, I couldn’t even leave. I was sobbing so hard. 

“Soap,” John said with a growl. I tried to brush his hands away, to try and get some space, but John wasn’t letting me leave. 

“Do you know her, Cap?” Johnny asked, sounding anything but pleased. 

“Easy, Love,” John said softly, pulling me close and stroking my hair. It shouldn’t have made me melt into him so easily, I should have tried harder to leave, but I was just so damn tired. 

“Price?” Johnny said, getting gruff. 

“I know who she is, Soap,” John said. “I know who you are to her. We can do this here or we can do this in private, Sergeant.” His tone left no argument or even a choice. The three of us left the store empty handed. John had me tucked under his arm the whole time we walked to a nearby house. It was just a few blocks from mine and when Johnny pulled out his keys to open the front door, I began to sob all over again. He had been so close this whole time and we never once ran into each other. It meant we either had very bad luck or he knew where I was the whole time and never said a thing. 

John offered soft words of comfort and reassurance as he guided me to a sofa. Sitting me down, he looked off to the side and told someone to bring him a cool wash cloth and to make tea. 

“I’m not fucking English, I don’t drink tea,” I croaked between sniffling sobs. 

“Yeah, but I am and so is the Bean,” John said, giving me a smile that made his cheeks round and his eyes crease. It was the same one he’d given me that first night we met. 

He had been sitting at the bar, nursing a scotch when I came up wild and loud, climbing onto a stool so I could kneel on it to be able to lean onto the bar so the bartender could hear my order. I glanced at him and flashed a smile and a wave. ‘Hi!’ I said, giving him my name. ‘Do you like tequila?’

‘Hi, I’m John and I do like tequila.’

‘It’s grand to meet you, John! Have a shot with me!’

“Who’s Bean?” A voice asked, bringing us out of our small daze. Looking up, there stood a man with dark eyes and a curious look. 

“Gaz,” John said, clearing his throat. “Not the time.” The man nodded, handing him the wash cloth that he turned to wipe my face. Letting him clean me up, I was able to calm down and at least stop crying. The headache that came after didn’t help at all. I couldn’t take any medication for it either, so I only had a bag of frozen peas that Gaz had grabbed at John’s request to help soothe the pounding behind my eyes. 

“Seems we’ve calmed down enough that we can talk,” John said as Johnny joined us, standing in the doorway, leaning against it with his arms crossed and his face sour. “There’s no good way to say this, so I might as well just say it. Johnny, your sister and I had a one night stand and now she’s pregnant.”

“Bullshit,” Johnny scoffed. 

“Sergeant,” John growled in a warning. 

“She’s not pregnant,” Johnny said, not backing down. “You two may have fucked, but she’s not pregnant. She’s just trying to get money out of you.”

“I went to a fucking doctor’s visit with her. She is pregnant and she’s been trying to avoid me and push away any help I offer her because you and your parents seem to have it out for her,” John snarled, standing up. “Now, I don’t know what your parents told you, but your sister has done everything in her power to make sure I’m not in my child’s life because you and them treat her like a plague rat. She has not once asked for a damn penny, let alone any large sum you’ve made up in your head.”

“You don’t even know if it’s yours!” Johnny cried out, pushing off from the doorframe. 

“I’m the only one she’s been with, you fucking muppet! You’d know that if you’d talk to her like a decent person, let alone a decent brother!” John snapped, getting in his face. “I have been trying to do everything I can to make sure I have a relationship with my child, at least, because it is impossible to get close to her after everything you lot put her through! I gave you the benefit of the doubt even. That you were just fed lies so much that nothing else made sense! No, this is willful ignorance now and I won’t stand for it. Your sister has been alone needlessly for years. Be a fucking man and own up to your mistakes.”

The room was deathly quiet as the two men stood there, seething as they stared each other down. 

“You know shit ain’t been addin’ up, Johnny,” a low, gruff voice said. A man with a skull balaclava stood off to the side as he watched everything. Had he been there the whole time? “It hasn’t been for a long time.” Johnny turned away from John to look at the man then to me. His snarl faded as he kept our gazes locked before walking away. “I got him, you take care of yours, Price,” the man said, calmly walking after my brother. John nodded, letting out a breath he’d been holding. 

“I. . . I’m sorry, Love,” he said softly, taking a seat next to me, his head hanging as he stared at his hands. “I know you didn’t want any of this and I’ll take you home if you want me to.”

“John,” I said, reaching over and taking his calloused hand in mine. “Thank you.” He looked from our hands to my face, his brows relaxing a bit from the worried scrunch they’d been stuck in.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, leaning in to kiss my cheek. 

“I think maybe we should try things differently,” I said, bumping his head with mine. 

“Yeah?” He hummed, pulling me close to rest against his chest. 

“Dating. We should date. Start there and work our way up,” I said, nuzzling against his chest. He was wearing a soft cable knit sweater and I wanted to climb inside it with him. 

“I think that’s a good idea,” he said, his voice rumbling deep in his chest as he put both arms around me. 

“I also need the insurance papers again. . . I lost them,” I said, tucking my head under his, happy in the warm and safe spot I’d made. 

“Of course,” John said, chuckling. 

“Also. . . That was really hot, you standing up for me. I don’t think I’d ever been so turned on before,” I said, hiding my smirk.

“Brat,” he snorted. “Do you want to go home?”

“Can you come with me and stay?” I asked, pulling away to look up at him.

“Wild dogs couldn’t keep me away,” John smiled, leaning down to kiss me. 

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[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello

At which point should you ask your Partner for an STD check? I have heard some people say you should both have one before unprotected sex just to be sure/even if there is no reason to suspect but idk.

Thx for your time

hi anon,

the best time to get tested for STIs is before you have sex. the next best time is three weeks after having sex with a new partner, because that's enough time for most STIs to actually show up on the test if you have them.

everyone involved should definitely get tested if you're not planning on using protective barriers to prevent the spread of body fluids. even if you think the odds of anyone having an STI are low, it never hurts to be safe. some STIs can lay dormant for months or years before showing symptoms, some never show any symptoms at all while still be transmissible, and some (hi, herpes!) can spread without anyone having sex at all.

STIs are by and large very simple to treat and manage, but that requires being proactive with your testing so that you can find out if you have one and act accordingly :)

[the-unholy-sovereign]

[{]¤| Hail Satan |¤[}] 💀Shivah "Shiva"

[Herpes] Genital-wart/crabs: The second infection of the ovary (I.Ovarian) that does not produce ovaries can occur, being on the other side, and involving an individualized female's menstrual-cycle by resulting in a burning sensation. Thereof an abrasion because of the rigor which reappeared on the non-endometrial side (Ovary) after going down, appearing as a lump internally. Henceforward happened when an woman/female does not have ejaculation or holds back from the cervical climatic phase during sexual intercourse for long-allotted periods, thereby result of an wart on genitalia externally. (Genital-crabs) Hence discoloration upon the uterine/uterus, therefore "ovarian" I.Ovary (menstrual) is a sign of having "Gonorrhea" being cultivated with the periodic-cycle of infected feminine individuals of the opposite sex. Especially, after removal of the wart (herpes) on the genital-area, if left untreated without "Antibiotics" thereof an lump forward on the uvula/cilia leading internally is the reappearance of the genital-wart that can become transmittable.

♾NUBIAN CREED: SATANIST: THE DARK GOD OF VOODOO. . . .

[sapphic-sex-ed]

my girlfriend and i want to get more intimate with each other but im concerned about possibly contracting an STD/STI. can we contract one of we’re both clean and use no dams? or is protection always the way to go?

STD/STI are acronyms for Sexually Transmitted Diseases/Sexually Transmitted Infections and as with any disease, if you are not exposed to the virus/bacteria that causes it, you cannot transmit it. If you have been tested and have the results come back negative, you do not have the disease and cannot transmit it*.

If you have not been tested but don't experience any symptoms (and has had previous sexual partners), you can still be infected and transfer the disease. It is believed that upwards of 80% of humans are infected with herpes (HSV1 or HSV2) but most don't show any symptoms, called being asymptomatic. Other STIs where it's common to be asymptomatic are chlamydia, HPV/genital warts (only some strains cause warts), and latent syphilis (although you would have noticed syphilis symptoms like rashes before the latent phase, which is a phase that sometimes occurs before the third/final stage of the disease).

If neither of you have had partners before**, or if you have been tested negative 3 months after your last sexual encounter, you don't have an STI.

Furthermore, hand and oral sex on vulvas are considered the safest ways to have sex when it comes to transmission of STIs. Now, I don't know you or your partner's genitals but I'm guessing based on the dental dam comment that it's likely that the sex you'll be having will mainly involve vulvas. While you absolutely can contract an STI in your throat, the amount of vaginal fluid you would have to guzzle to get enough pathogens down to your throat to cause infection is a lot. Semen is a lot more effective at transmitting diseases because, uh, its purpose is to get that shit (spermatozoa) in there, so to speak. It's not risk free, but nothing in life is. This is so low risk that the Swedish organization for sexual and reproductive rights and education (founded in the 30's, leading org for SRHR in the nation) which also produce and sell condoms, at home pregnancy and STI-tests, lube, etc, don't sell dental dams at all. That being said, dams can be fun to play with vis a vis sensation (taut dam vs relaxed dam, for example) and if you want to use one I would never dissuade you from it.

I do wanna bring attention to the usage of the word "clean" to denote that you aren't infected with an STI. It's a common way to phrase it, but it does stigmatize those who have been or are infected with an STI. To say that one is "clean" to mean "not infected" directly implies that to be infected is dirty or unclean, which it is not. This is part of the stigma of contracting and living with an STI, where a moral judgement is cast upon the person. As some STIs are life long, like HIV, herpes, and sometimes hepatitis, the stigma can also be life-long. In the future, I suggest using terms like "not infected" or "tested negative" to avoid this.

-mod liz

*because of incubation time, you have to wait up to three months for some STIs to show up on a test, so if you sleep with a new partner, getting tested the next week may not yield accurate results.

**some STIs are not exclusively sexually transmitted. You can for example contract HIV at birth if your parent was a carrier, hepatitis C can spread through blood, and herpes can infect both mouth and genitals and sharing a glass of water with somebody with oral herpes can transmit it. Unless there's any reason to suspect that you have contracted HIV or hepatitis from somewhere else (like a tattoo or injection needle, or if you mixed your blood with somebody somehow like in an accident) I wouldn't be too worried though.