#so i waited until i wrote more of anything

[earlysunshines]

order for delivery!

pham hanni x fem!reader

synopsis: hanni is a terrible multi-tasker and it's very evident when her phone is in between her ear and shoulder while she orders delivery. she's messily figuring out what to tackle on her calendar first as she mumbles her order, what lecture notes to go over, when her midterms fall---and oops, she just said 'love you, bye' to the worker on the other end of the phone.

warnings: none(?) i think it's just rly silly and cute and fluffy ; anything else i didn't mention ; not proofread

a/n: ugh she's so cute and such a loser and UGH anyways i wrote this so quickly but maybe that's because i love thsi fic so much it was so so so fun to write omfg ENJOY!!

hanni is a terrible multitasker, it only ends up in her getting things mixed up and done slower. still, she does it anyway.

her phone is tucked awkwardly between her ear and shoulder, fingers tapping at the laptop keyboard while scrolling through lecture notes. “uh, yeah… chicken lo mein with extra chicken… and um also…” she squinted at the calendar on her screen. “what was i supposed to— oh, right… midterm next wednesday. right, cool.”

on the other end you listened patiently, smiling to yourself and holding back a small giggle as she mumbled half an order while clearly being busy with other things.

“wait, sorry!” she apologizes quickly, realizing she hadn’t ordered what minji and haerin had asked for. “also six steamed pork dumplings— no, twelve please. shrimp fried rice and… wait, i already said that, right? ugh—anyway, just, yeah, add that too.”

you ring it all up, smiling wider. “anything else?”

there’s a brief moment of silence until you hear, “huh? oh, no, that’s it.” she replies absentmindedly. she had been paying no attention at all, flipping through her notes and muttering to herself quietly about what she needed to review before the weekend. “uh, yeah, thanks—love you, bye.”

another beat of silence passes before you chime in, voice playful. “love you too.”

you could practically hear her freeze, the realization hits her. you hear a gasp on the other end of the phone, sharp and followed by a small curse.

‘w-wait, what?” hanni stammers, cheeks heating up like crazy. everything hanni had been bombarded with halts. her hands freeze on the laptop, her phone almost slips from her shoulder, and the papers she had been holding with the other hand have all landed on teh counter. everything hanni had been thinking about—midterm wednesday, lecture notes, module 2.2, chapter three reading—dissapear from her mind in a blink.

she hears a laugh on the other end, then a voice that sends a shiver down her spine. 

“your total is $28.41, by the way.”

“god, i’m sorry.” hanni rushes out the apology, face palming herself. “i didn’t mean it— not that i don’t love you! well, i mean, i don’t know you, so i don’t love you. not that i hate you! no hard feelings. i’m not saying you’re— okay i’m, i’m going to go. bye. thank you. sorry.”

hanni presses the red button on her phone, ending the call and cringing to herself. hanni is more than glad that her friends in the living room hadn’t heard the most embarassing phonecall of her life. if any of them were to witness it, she’d never live it down. her cheeks are fuming against her hand; she’s a mess, she really needs to stop tackling twelve things at once even though it brings her some type of comfort—less chaos during lots of chaos makes it seem like something manageable.

she clicks through a bunch of tabs, skims through a few lines on her paper, and then closes her laptop. she does this while being distracted by the whole one minute interaction from earlier, shooting herself in the head mentally everytime she thinks of it.

less than twenty minutes later, the delivery guy shows up. hanni knows it’s not the person on the phone, because when the man speaks, it’s not the same voice that sent a weird shiver down her spine when she realized they said “love you too” back to her.

she takes the two bags over to her living room, setting them down in front of two ravenous students—otherwise known as her best friends danielle and minji—watching their eyes sparkle just from the sight. she rolls her eyes at them, sitting down against her small couch and leaning against as they waste no time to dig in and unbox.

hanni’s the last one to reach in and grab something to munch on—mistake number one. mistake number two is catching minji furrowing her brows at a piece of paper, pickiing it up and reading, instead of stopping her before she can do any of that.

her best friend reads it outloud in a confused tone: “i put two extra fortune cookies in there,” minji begins, danielle scoots over to read too. “hope your fortune is as sweet as your voice. love, the girl you don’t hate, but don’t love :(“

“p.s. you sound cute when you’re caught off guard ;-)”

minji finishes reading, and then the two of her friends look up, staring down hanni.

“hanni, what’s this?”

“i— give me that!” hanni says, face burning up. she swipes the paper from minji’s hand, looking at the paper and covering it with her hand like her friends hadn’t just read it together. she cringes, closing her eyes and falling down on teh floor. “i’m an idiot.”

“hanniiiiii” danielle whines, scooting over to shake her by her shoulders while she’s on the floor. “what’s that about? do you have an admirer or something?”

“i can’t tell you, i just, i’m so stupid.”

“dude, what?” minji questions, completely ignoring the steaming, delicious food on the coffee table. “explain—now.”

hanni feels her heart beating like crazy, then she gives in and sits up. her face is most definitely beet red, maybe even worse when she glances at the note again.

“i accidentally said ‘love you, bye’ to the worker on the phone.” hanni says quietly, shaking her head. “and she said it back.”

“she what?” danielle and minji say in unison, looking at her in disbelief.

hanni lets out a weird noise, overwhelmed and flustered beyond words. she looks down at the note again through the spaces in her fingers as she covers her face, not noticing any name or anything that might lead to another encounter with the mystery girl on the other end of the line. this disappoints her a bit, but even if she were to have a name or number or anything, she wouldn’t be able to face you. 

after getting teased to death, the trio indulges in food after a very long and tiring study session. the conversation shifts to annoying professors, upcoming midterms, plans for when they all have free time—but hanni is still thinking of you, oddly enough.

—

a little over a week from that day, hanni orders takeout again. she’s somehow forgotten (for the most part) her embarrassing interaction, probably because her midterm is tomorrow and she’s completely forgotten to eat. her phone sits in between her shoulder and ear again, head tilted awkwardly to rush out an order. 

“alpha waves, altruism, anorexia nervosa… shit, sorry. um yeah, i’d like six steamed dumplings please, pork. umm… chow mein— no, scratch that. shrimp fried rice please.” her words are hurried out her mouth as she furrows her brows at her laptop screen, clicking through slides and trying to comprehend two units of psychology in one night. “that’s it, thank you, love you.”

hanni stops in place, frozen in shock. there is no way.

“wow, you must be smitten, huh?” she hears on the end of the line, followed by a small chuckle. “love you too, ‘hp.’” hanni had never used her full name when ordering things, well, only food. she always had this fear of sharing her legal name unless it was for unconsumable orders. “your total is $14.89 by the way.” 

you hear a groan on the end of the line, followed by what sounds like pens and pencils hitting the floor.

“...you alright?”

hanni, caught off guard by the whole conversation for the most part, but also the fact that you noticed how she had just spilled half her supplies onto her apartment floor, answers with a simple, “yeah.”

“that’s good to hear.”

“i’m really sorry, again, for the… you know.”

“your undying love for me?”

“what?” hanni says, completely disregarding the pens, pencils, and highlighters on the floor. “i- no! no. i’m not in love with you! i didn’t mean it—”

“i’m teasing, hp.” she hears the smile in your voice. “would you like an extra fortune? last time i had heard from you i remember something about a midterm.”

“you remembered?” it sounds a little pathetic, maybe desperate coming from hanni, but hanni couldn’t care less. she’s tired, overwhelmed, and has gone over so much work in the span of a few days that she really can’t think or function correctly.

“yeah, not many people sound as young as you. it’s usually a parent or something ordering for their family at this time. plus, you made my shift.” you confess, “i thought it was cute, you know, how frantic you had ordered your meal.”

“i’m really sorry about that, like seriously, i’m really, really sorry.”

“it’s okay hp.”

“right, yeah. i uh, i have to study. sorry— i don’t know why i’m saying sorry, ugh, sorry. thanks, bye.”

“no ‘love you?’” you ask, and before hanni can answer you respond, “kidding. i’ll throw in two fried wontons, have a good night hp.”

the call ends and hanni blinks a few times as she tries to process what just happened. she’s embarrassed beyond words, just as flustered too. there might even be a blush on her cheeks, she can’t stop thinking about how smooth you were with your teasing, plus the way your voice sounded. 

hanni thinks it’s the midterm getting to her, the stress. she cleans up the mess on the floor and goes through her vocabulary notes. she hears a knock on the door twenty minutes later which makes her jump in her seat.

she grabs the bag of fried rice and dumplings, placing it on the counter before taking everything out. hanni hears her stomach rumble a bit, she definitely underestimated how hungry she was.

before hanni digs in, she notices two fortune cookies and a note at the bottom. she completely ignores the cookies, grabbing the note and opening it up to see the same small handwriting from last time:

“i’m guessing your initials are hp? i could be wrong… 

hp like harry potter? it makes sense because you’re magical.

good luck on your midterm! hopefully you’ll order for a post-midterm celebration.

p.s. there are extra fried wontons ;p”

hanni smiles as she reads the note. pause. hanni stops smiling immediately when she becomes aware of the fact that she’s smiling because of a note. a note from a mystery woman on the other end of the line.

—

midterms are over, all of them. hanni had gone through all four midterms. all four. hanni’s burnt out to oblivion, finding comfort in her bed as soon as she gets back from her last midterm. she checks her messages and is greeted by the groupchat she’s in with danielle and minji.

minji: FINALLY i feel like a fish that’s been gutted out it’s not even finals lowk wasn’t even that bad actually how about you guys

danielle: my midterm is in an hour!  wish me luck :D how was yours hanni?

hanni: i’m about to PASS OUT why did i choose forensics

minji: because you’re a nerd don’t let one biology midterm screw you over who’s going to take care of my body parts when i suddenly get murdered

danielle: woah quite a situation, no?

hanni: uagghshhskafhjk i’m going to sleep GOODNIGHT do you guys want to come over later dani do you need time to unwind before you come over

danielle: no that’s alright! i find your apartment quite cozy i’ll just crash there right after, thanks han okay i’m going to review a bit more wish me luck!

minji: good luck mo dani!! you can do it  we love you

hanni: good luck! you’ve got this

danielle:  ❤️

hanni smiles at danielle’s message, she’s always so positive—even through text, even during these trying times. she decides to pass out for almost two hours, waking up groggy and finding herself almost tripping all the way back to her couch in the living room. she sighs as she collapses onto the cushions, waiting for minji and danielle to come over.

then her thoughts race back to you, embarassingly enough. she thinks about your stupid flirting, your stupid voice, and the stupid giggle she could hear through the phone. she thinks about how stupid she is for smiling, how stupid she is. everything is stupid.

hanni is fantasizing about some random person she’s ordered affordable chinese food from, she doesn’t even know her name. 

(hanni’s brain is mush.)

instinctively, she goes through her recent calls, dialing the number of the restaurant that serves her favorite dumplings. 

it rings for a few seconds before someone answers, “hello?”

the voice isn’t familiar whatsoever, hanni feels a strange discomfort in her stomach. 

hanni doesn’t realize that she hasn’t spoken a word until the second “hello?” is uttered. she breaks from her trance.

“hi, hello, yeah, hi.”

“hello, what can i get you?”

hanni purses her lips before replying, “oh, um.” she sounds like a sad child. “fried rice, i’ll do chicken. wontons, fried, twelve of them. could i also get beef-broccoli lo mein?”

she hears nothing for about three seconds, then a hum. “got it, could i get a name for that order?”

“hp.” 

“y/n’s ‘hp?’” who the hell is y/n? hanni thinks to herself. 

“what?”

“nevermind.” the worker says with her monotone voice. “will that be it?”

“yeah, thank you.” hanni doesn’t say ‘love you’ this time. she tells herself it’s because she’s not preoccupied with at least three things in that same moment, but a part of it is because it’s not the same voice that she had been expecting to hear. “what’s the total?”

“$24.12. it’ll be over in a little more than twenty minutes.”

“okay, thank you.” hanni says, and instead of hearing something snarky back—she hears a hum, and then the call ends.

…

you walk into work later than usual, one of your midterms had been pushed a bit later, so your hours were cut off. 

as you walk in, you catch your coworker’s head snap up. as soon as she realizes it’s you, she relaxes a bit.

“good evening haerin!” you beam, somehow upbeat and lively even after your grueling calculus midterm. “miss me?”

“just had to take more calls than i ever do in one week.” she sighs, watching you move over behind the counter and push your bag under the desk. “so maybe a little.”

“awww, you missed me so much.”

“shut up.” haerin groans, sitting down in the little chair where no customers can catch her. “you know what you missed?”

“what?”

“your girlfriend called—miss hp.”

“hp?!” you say it like you’ve just missed the train that comes every two hours. “seriously? did she say ‘love you?’”

“of course that’s what you’re so animated about.” haerin rolls her eyes at you, shrugging. “she didn’t.”

a sigh of relief escapes your lips, a very exaggerated one for that matter. then you frown, sitting down in the spinny chair nearby and rotating yourself in your seat like a little kid.

“i can’t believe i missed her.”

“you’re actually insane for flirting with a customer.”

“she has a cute voice.”

“you don’t even know her y/n.” haerin scoots over, but only to flick you in the forehead. she leans back in her seat, smirking. you rub your skin and pout at her, making her roll her eyes once more before she continues on, “she could be old, crinkly, and married or something. what if she’s like… balding? what if her teeth are falling out and she—”

“why are you assuming the worst haerin. you’re so— whatever. she sounds my age, i guess. it’s just fun to mess around, it’s cute.”

“i will never get you.” your coworker crosses her arms, jumping at the sound of the phone ringing. “could you get that? i’ve run out of social battery.”

“it’s a phone call haerin.”

“talking to you drained me already.”

you frown, making her giggle at you.

—

the next time hanni calls is two days later, because she’s a loser that can’t seem to get the thought of the chinese restaurant employee who keeps flirting with her (albeit smoothly) out of her head. the phone rings twice, then someone picks up, and hanni waits eagerly.

“hi, pledis plates, how can i help?” it’s you, it’s you. the memory of hearing ‘y/n’s hp?’ pops up in her head—could you be y/n? you have to be.

“hi.” hanni says simply, biting the inside of her lip. she hears a small chuckle on the other end of the line, slightly relieved.

“if it isn’t hp.” it comes out cheeky, making hanni blush. “missed you, you know?”

“what?”

“did you miss me too?”

“i–” yes. hanni did miss you, not like she’d admit it, at least out loud. “i’d like to order dumplings.”

“harsh.” you respond jokingly, “six, pork, and steamed, got it.”

“you memorized it?” 

“you ordered it last time.”

hanni can’t help but laugh, smiling as she holds the phone against her ear. “you must be head over heels to be remembering my order.”

“you’re the one who confessed first though?”

“that was a mistake.”

“uh huh.” amusement is laced in your tone. “it’ll be five dollars, should be there in less than twenty.”

“great.”

 hanni doesn’t know what else to say. you both pause, letting silence and the faint static ring in your ears.

“what happened to the usual goodbye?”

hanni feels herself shrinking in her bed, feet kicking slightly, blush forming. god, she’s head over heels, she’s insane, she doesn’t know a single thing about you other than the fact that you have a really endearing voice and that your flirting is enough to have her smiling like an idiot.

“thanks, bye.” neither of you hang up after hanni says it, knowing there’s something missing. hanni pinches the bridge of her nose, feeling her stomach closing in on herself and simultaneously doing a flip. her heart nearly jumps out of her chest as she chokes out, “love you.”

“i was waiting for that one.”

“a-are you— really?”

“yeah.” you simply state, and you say nothing else but, “bye hp.”

“you’re not going to say it back?”

you grin to yourself. hanni hears a small, amused laugh fromthe other end, sending a shiver down her spine. “i don’t fold that easy, maybe next time.” you hang up right after, leaving hanni dumbfounded.

hanni looks at her phone like you’re going to call back, but you don’t. she drops the phone on her bed, putting both hands over her face and feeling her skin burn against her palms. she groans, then groans again, and sighs finally. 

maybe next time. there’s going to be a next time—hanni has that at least.

—

hanni calls again the next monday, around two days after the last call. it’s the same day she had first said the infamous ‘love you’ to you on accident. she calls at around the same time, laptop on her lap as she taps lightly on the backspace key, though not enough to actually press it. she wonders to herself for a moment, is the dent in her wallet really worth it? has she really reached rock bottom?

“pledis plates, what would you like to order?”

it’s not you. hanni sinks into the cushion of her couch and feels herself deflate. she can’t always call with the assumption that you’ll pick up, there are other employees after all. this time, it’s the same monotone voice she had heard before, a stark contrast to your flirtatious, lively tone.

“hi, i’d just like—”

“ah, hp.”

“how did you—”

“i remember your voice from last time. y/n was quite sad when she realized she’d missed your call by twenty minutes.”

“what do you mean?”

“she came into work late, midterms or something.”

midterms. the information alone gives her the assumption that you’re also in college, maybe even in her grade, and if she’s pushing it maybe you even go to her university. she conjures up a better picture of you now, not quite clear or concrete, but it’s something.

“is she a student?”

“i don’t know if i can leak that, she told me to be very secretive about her. i don’t think you’ll have trouble finding out more though, she never shuts up.”

hanni snickers, so you’re a talker too. yeah, hanni’s into that.

“well now i know her name.”

“do what you will with that.” the girl mutters. hanni hears a small sigh, then another response, “hey, y/n was curious about you. are you in high school?”

“what— no! do i sound like it?”

“you sound young.” the girl on the end of the line—haerin—shrugs. she continues, “y/n thinks you’re the same age as her, she also assumes you’re cute. i guess no one will know until a miracle happens.”

“i can’t tell if you’re insulting me.” hanni chuckles awkwardly, but haerin doesn’t respond.  “but if it helps, anyway, i’m a sophomore in college. tell her i’m interested in forensics.”

“okay.”

silence follows again, but haerin hasn’t hung up, and hanni still holds the phone against her ear expecting something more. hanni decides to take another step, asking, “y/n, how is… could you like, describe her?”

“physically or…? well, i can do a brief description. to start off: annoying, jokes a lot, pretends to be all mopey when insulted. physically: taller than me—i’d say taller than a lot of women. she has a nice smile i guess, but it’s the kind you want to wipe off her face, ugh, it’s like she’s making fun of you when she does it. her hair is also always a little messy, she says its for the ‘appeal,’ but i see none.”

hanni fights back a giggle. this woman has just spilled a good amount, a perfect amount in hanni’s eyes (any amount is alright, anything more than a name). this ‘y/n’ is tall, taller than most women, and hanni is shorter than most; hanni is into that, she loves taller girls. and messy hair too? that’s cute, probably. as long as it’s not the same type of messy that men rock around—men that barely shower or do anything. essentially: compsci majors—then hanni will be alright. you sound wonderful.

“did you want to order anything? or are did you just want to flirt with the idiot.”

“hey! hey, hey. lets not— ugh, okay, could i just get um, six pork dumplings—steamed.”

“okay.” the girl says quietly, and then hanni hears some light tapping. “six dumplings for hp.”

“hanni. it’s hanni. my name is hanni.”

“got it the first time.”

“you’re bright, aren’t you?”

“your order is going to be there later, bye.” and then the girl hangs up, leaving hanni speechless.

—

hanni waits a few days to call, because she doesn’t remember dialing on tuesdays or wednesdays and hearing a voice that brings her a little thrill. she leans against her counter waiting for a response, then lights up when she hears,

“pledis plates, how can i help?”

“y/n.” hanni says, almost relieved. “hi.”

“hi hanni.” your coworker must’ve leaked that conversation, hanni thinks. “nice to hear from you.”

“likewise.”

“can i get six dumplings? pork and—”

“---steamed, yes.” you’re smiling as you say it, like an eager little child. “nothing else?”

“no.”

“alright.” you respond, clicking two tabs and ringing up her order. you don’t give her the cost or anything, staring at the screen and deciding to huff out, “forensics?” you’re starting a real conversion now, what a step.

hanni is smiling hard, she’s so giddy that she’s twirling a piece of hair around her pointer finger. 

“yeah, i think it’s nice.”

“cute.” you mumble, “i’m studying kinesiology.”

“is that so?”

“unfortunately.” you say lightheartedly. hanni doesn’t know what to respond with, she wants to continue the conversation and hear your voice longer, but there’s nothing she can think of. does she ask for your number? how you are? hanni is useless, she’s always been useless when it came to girls.

“hanni?”

“y-yes?” hanni cringes at the slight stutter.

“your total is five dollars. it’ll be there soon.”

“oh,” hanni says sadly, “i mean, um. okay.”

and then she hangs up, a little defeated, but there’s always a next time…right?

when her food gets there, she hurriedly pays the delivery driver, making her wallet cry even more. there’s a note in the bag, along with two fortune cookies. the note has your name and a number on it, making hanni gasp and smile to herself again. there’s a little ‘text me, miss hanni. i’m looking forward to it.’ and as soon as hanni reads it, she clasps her hands together, squeals quietly into them, giggles, and kicks her feet in the air.

hanni tries to do some schoolwork, managing to get ten minutes of reading down, a few sentences jotted down, and then the rest of the time she’s thinking about her new saved contact. she hasn’t texted you yet, mainly because she had been overthinking about what and when to text you. she contemplates texting danielle and minji about it, but she’d just be teased. 

this is the first time in a while since hanni’s gotten anywhere close to something romantic, or maybe this is platonic, but the flirting doesn’t support that idea. she’s tried tinder—once, once and never again—and going to parties. nothing works out, none of them make her giddy and giggly like this. 

before she knows it, two hours have passed, and so she decides to send a simple “hi, this is hanni!’ 

too enthusiastic? too bland? too basic? ugh. hanni groans, lying on her couch in an uncomfortable position.

you reply almost immediately with ‘hey, i’m off in twenty minutes. let’s call?’ and hanni has to put the phone to her chest, looking up at the ceiling in disbelief.

twenty minutes passes by too quickly, hanni hasn’t even figured out what to say. she looks at her phone, waiting for you to call, and when you do, she short circuits; hanni drops her phone on her face.

“hello?” it’s you.

it’s you.

“hey. um, how was work?”

“aw, even asking me about work.” she can hear the smirk in your tone, rolling her eyes as she smiles to herself. “it was fine, my favorite part was when this girl ordered pork dumplings though. she has a cute voice.”

“is that so?”

“yeah. hey, can i ask you something?”

“what is it?”

“i work tomorrow, but its the morning shift. i end at one, i was you know… wondering if you… wanted…” you sound nervous, this is a first for hanni. “if you wanted to share some dumplings, free of charge.”

hanni covers her mouth almost immediately, suppressing any signs of her freaking out.

“are you asking me out?”

“only if you say yes.”

you hear a giggle before you hear a “yes.”

“really?”

“mhm.” hanni smiles again, thinking of something that’ll leave you just as flustered. “okay, well… i’ll see your tomorrow. bye, love you.”

“love you too hanni.”

—

minji’s usually the one who picks up orders if it’s not delivery, and hanni is almost always taking the orders. so when hanni enters the shop for the first time, she’s quite fond of the smell of ingredients being stir fried or steamed, as well as the interior of the place. it’s very nice inside, hopefully the nice person she’s been meaning to see shows up soon.

there’s a girl by the counter, she’s only slightly taller than hanni, and her eyes are oddly cat-like. she looks up at her with those eyes, then shoots a small smile.

“hi, how can i help?” this is who the monotone voice belongs to. her image somehow matches perfectly with the voice.

“hi, i’m hanni.” as soon as she introduces herself, the workers eyes widen.

“woah, you’re real.”

“surprising, i know.”

“y/n is changing in the back—she was eager to get off fives minutes early so she wouldn’t be in uniform when you showed up.” haerin explains, shaking her head. “it’s nice to meet you, you’re very pretty.”

“thank you! i appreciate it. you’re pretty as well.”

haerin doesn’t get to respond. the person who does respond is the girl walking up to the register, scooting haerin to the side with her knuckles and tapping at the screen. the girl isn’t in uniform, and she’s also really good looking. 

you run a hand through your hair as you clock out through the system. “hey, did hanni ever stop by?” you ask haerin, not looking up from the screen because you’ve typed your code in wrong. 

“look up idiot.” your coworker snickers, and when you do, you’re met with the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen.

you notice her right away, hair flowing down past her chest, curtain bangs perfectly framing her face. her plump lips and striking features make you pause. sure, you expected her to be pretty—maybe even conventionally attractive, everyone is in their own way—but seeing her in person? she’s beyond that, practically model material. my god. your lips part slightly in surprise, and you catch yourself, quickly swallowing as you both smile at each other at the same time.

you clock out—thankfully not typing in the wrong code again from nervousness—and step out from behind the counter. a small tote bag hangs from your shoulder, and a plastic bag dangles in your hand. you glance down at it.

“twelve dumplings—steamed, pork, everything you like—for the pair.”

hanni’s smile lights up her face, and you can't help but think about how adorable she looks, how effortlessly charming she is.

“why thank you,” she says, her voice soft and playful. it sounds better in person than through the phone.

“you’re gorgeous, by the way,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, still marveling at her. “like, i expected you to be pretty, but… wow.” you can tell haerin is fake gagging or rolling her eyes or something like that from behind, she’s probably already on her way to avoid witnessing this interaction.

hanni blushes instantly, the red creeping up her cheeks. if she were at home, she’d probably be giggling and kicking her feet, but for now, she just looks away shyly, smiling. “thanks, you’re really cute too.”

“you think?”

“yes.” she meets your eyes, still flushed. “can we eat? i’m hungry.”

“right, yeah. i hope it’s not too forward, but is the park nearby good? we can settle down and, um… talk more. you know, more than just about your usual order.”

hanni laughs—you might die right then and there—before responding, “that’s perfect,” and then she nods, looking at you. her eyes are soft and warm and wonderful.

“great,” you echo.

“great,” she repeats, a small laugh escaping her.

you both walk side by side, still a little stiff at first, the mutual attraction between you creating an unspoken tension. but as you settle into the rhythm of conversation, the initial awkwardness fades away, replaced by the easy flow of natural chemistry. each step feels lighter, the distance between you shrinking with every passing word.

—

—

—

hanni hears a knock at her door, confused because she hadn’t expected any guests other than minji and danielle—who are already in her living room leeching off her netflix account. 

she opens it to see you, which immediately brings a smile to her face. she almost leaps over to hug you, nearly making you drop the large bag in your hand.

“someone missed me.”

“shut up.” hanni says before pecking your lips. she looks at you, your dorky, adorable face, and then presses another longer kiss. “come in babe. i didn’t expect you to be here.”

“i got off early because i had to cover. i wanted to surprise you, and i know you had company over.”

“oh yeah,” hanni had almost forgotten that her best friends had been there.

she leads you over, helping you take off your tote and setting it on her counter. her friends catch the two of you from their peripheral and wave, then their eyes light up at the sight of the familiar bag in your hand. you set it down, placing a the container of fried rice, lo mein, and dumpling down as they treat you like a savior.

“thank you so much, i owe you my first born.” danielle says, giving you a playful pout.

minji snickers, scooting up to the coffee table. “you’re the best thing that’s happened to us—to hanni.”

you look over to your girlfriend, that’s right, she’s your girlfriend. hanni is rolling her eyes at you, pushing your shoulder, and then pulling you in by the wrist to sit next to her. she’s not one for pda—especially in front of danielle and minji—but under the table her fingers graze your skin, which makes you smile.

you grab a secret container from behind your back, handing it to hanni. when she opens it, she opens her mouth, shocked and grateful for the six steamed pork dumplings that you brought just for her.

[ri-writes-if]

🌙 O's bonus story

I wrote a small thing for that scenario with a panic attack. It’s for O. You can read it here or under the line. I might be preparing another one for L with another idea, ehe

Your back hits the wall as you grip the clothes on your chest. It feels like your lungs are burning. Your heartbeat, painfully loud, drowns out all other noises.

As you slid down the wall, your gaze unfocused and breathing heavy, O catches you before you hit the floor. They crouch, trying to look into your face, and cup your cheek, the touch light.

They aren’t the best demon to deal with such a situation, but they wouldn’t trust anyone else with you. Even if it comes awkwardly to them, they force themselves to act as they were taught to.

O is better suited to dealing with whatever made you panic rather than offering comfort, but they’ll set aside their preferences for you. You need them here.

They slip their hand to your palm and hold it, squeezing it once. “[name], it’s all right,” they say. Their voice guides you through darkness like a beacon. “Nothing will hurt you while I’m here. You’re safe.”

You grip their wrist, unable to form words as you choke on air. O considers it a sign you don’t want them to leave. It brings them relief. They don’t know how they would leave you alone in such a state if you wished for it.

O lowers to their knees and pulls you closer. When you go willingly, they embrace you, their hands resting on your back and shoulder. Not the best position, but it matters little with you shivering against their chest.

“Try focusing on your breathing,” they say, their cheek pressed against your head. “This will pass soon. And I’ll stay with you until it does. Come on. Breathe with me.”

Several minutes crawl by while you regain your senses. When your panic abates and you can breathe properly, you slip your hands around their waist. O almost smiles. They guess you don’t want to move, perhaps having no energy now, so they raise you carefully, waiting as your hands settle around their neck instead, and carry you to a nearby couch.

They hesitate putting you down. They want to hold you longer. O remembers how they found you in the room, and their grip on you tightens. They turn to settle on the couch, still keeping you in their arms. Your head falls on their shoulder under their chin again, a position O thinks most comfortable. They could sit like this for hours.

“Do you need anything?” O murmurs, afraid of breaking the ensued silence. It feels different. Peaceful. Peace? An unattainable luxury for both of you recently. Maybe that’s why they’re so reluctant to let go of it.

“Nothing,” you whisper, your voice bleak. “Can’t move. Stay?”

As you ask, your arms press on them just a little harder. A hint of your uncertainty in the face of their potential refusal.

O can’t imagine why they would refuse. Before? Maybe. But the months have blended into a careless stroke on a canvas of their life, yet you’ve lingered on their mind like no other. It’s not because they’ve seen you at your weakest or spent quite some time with you. Their heart isn’t so easily opened.

It’s something else.

They would lie to themselves if they found a reason to refuse you and leave. And O sees no point in lying to themselves.

“I will stay,” they say.

You relax once more, and they smile. Almost laugh at themselves. What type of arrangement is this? What are they doing? Breaking their rules, closing their ears so they won’t hear the obvious. How foolish.

Fine. They will be a fool then. Sometimes it’s easier to give in than to fight against yourself.

[gideonisms]

okay because tumblr hates me it did not save my draft of a mini fic I wrote for a prompt but I'm posting it anyway. The prompt was:

the smut is DELICIOUS but my stupid romantic brain needs some fluff...so how about.....griddlehark sneaking into the library for some midnight reading? 👀

And I can't remember who sent this one, my apologies. Hope you see it, whoever you were! I promise this is fluff but I needed to write some original flavor Griddlehark so let's pretend this is what happened after avulsion ❤️

When Gideon crawls out from her nest of blankets, aware of her surroundings at last, Harrow is gone. Gideon should have expected this. If she’d thought volunteering to have her soul sucked out through her innards was enough to melt the heart of the lady of the Ninth, she would have been wrong. Even her hallucination of Harrow hadn’t stayed to comfort her.

Not that she needs comfort. After all, Gideon isn’t dead. She just feels like she is.

Groping around on the floor for her sword, the one lady who would never betray her, Gideon almost knocks over a cup of water. Harrow must have left this for her out of some misguided sense of pity after they’d stumbled back to their rooms.

Although it makes Gideon feel a little bit like a pet left on its own while its owner goes to town, she takes the water and drinks it in huge gulps, draining the whole thing. Afterwards, she feels almost like a person—if that person had been smashed to bits and then taped up wrong.

Now to find Harrow.

Gideon gets up, aching in every bone. She considers just lying back down, possibly forever. How much trouble could Harrow even get into on her own? She’s probably just passed out somewhere again and can wait there until Gideon comes to find her.

No, Gideon should check. After all, what good is she as a cavalier if she lets Harrow wander off and get eaten by a bone monster right after they’ve won another key? It would just be embarrassing.

So she checks Harrow’s room—empty, but she does find another glass of water in there, which she drinks hastily without bothering to question how long it’s been sitting on the nightstand. She rests for a minute on Harrow’s bed, clinging to her sword more for support than because she thinks she could swing it at something.

She leaves the room as silently as she can and closes the door behind her.

The corridors of the First House are empty and dark as she searches. She keeps thinking she sees movement out of the corners of her eyes, but after the fourth time she whirls around to find nothing, accepts that this too may be a side effect of the soul sucking.

She grasps her sword in both hands as she turns down a corridor she hasn’t taken before. At this point, she’s beginning to feel not only lost, but also dizzy, and is considering calling it quits and hoping Harrow hasn’t done anything too stupid.

But there, at the end of the hallway, is a closed door. And underneath the door, a light shines. Not the light of the old-fashioned florescent bulbs or even the warm, glowing lanterns she’s seen some of the priests carrying around. No, this light is a wan, flickering candlelight that only serves to make Gideon feel colder and more unwell. Gideon would recognize that light anywhere. It has to be Harrow’s.

As she creeps towards the light, she lowers her sword. When she reaches the doorway, she tries the brass handle—locked, of course. She knocks, and behind the door, she can hear the unmistakable sound of bones clattering.

“Harrow,” she tries to say, but it comes out as more of a croak. She hears a rustling opposite the door. She tries again. “It’s me, you numbskull. Let me in!”

She’s seriously not feeling good. Maybe this whole standing up thing was a mistake.

The door suddenly opens—Gideon sways forward.

“Gideon?” Harrow says. And then Gideon passes out.

When she comes to, she’s resting on a dusty couch, head pillowed by something soft and warm.

“Harrow?”

“Shut up, idiot.” Harrow sounds small and frightened. Gideon blinks her eyes open to see her adept looking down at her from quite close up, fingers hovering in midair as though she can’t decide whether to touch Gideon or not.

Gideon thinks deliriously that she might as well, since she’s already got Gideon’s head in her lap.

Gideon looks around. There are bones strewed on the floor—probably from Harrow’s efforts to get her to the couch. And they’re in some type of library—quite small, even by Ninth standards, but Gideon can tell that it once would have been cozy.

There’s a fireplace set into one wall with ancient chairs across from it. Everywhere books are piled up; this isn’t the tidy organization of someone who owns a library for the aesthetic, but the more familiar jumble of books and crumbling papers from a person who once loved their work.

She looks back to Harrow, whose face is once again painted, but hastily. The smudged circles of black underneath her eyes make her look tired and worried.

“Gideon?” she says again. “Are you all right?”

Although Gideon has looked her death in the eyes more than once this week, it’s the tone of panic in Harrow’s voice that makes her feel like she must truly be dead. She reaches up to pinch herself on the arm, but Harrow catches her wrist.

“Woah, hold it, that’s my move,” Gideon says.

But Harrow just checks her pulse. Her thumb sweeps over the place where Gideon can feel her heart beat hardest. Then she does touch Gideon’s face—fingers brushing her hair aside to feel at her forehead.

“No fever,” she mutters. “Probably dehydrated.”

“You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you? You have a lot of experience, my sickly scion. Malnourished monarch.”

“This isn’t a joke! If you had collapsed somewhere out there, where I couldn’t find you in time—”

“Dehydration duchess.”

“You could have died! Did you even read my note?”

“What note?”

“You idiot,” Harrow says again, with feeling. “I left it beside the water cup.”

“So that was you. Thought it might have been the monster.”

“There is no—” Harrow breaks off and pinches the bridge of her nose, breathing in slowly. She smudges her paint when she does. There’s a little bit of skin poking through just at the top of her nose where it meets her forehead. Gideon almost reaches up to touch it without thinking.

“You will not leave the room without my permission in the future,” Harrow says.

“Like hell I won’t! You snuck off without me. What did you expect me to do?”

It’s just like Harrow to use this as an excuse to keep Gideon locked away somewhere. What else did Gideon expect?

But Harrow looks down at her with huge scared eyes, as deep and dark as the tomb itself, and Gideon can’t even be angry. Which sucks, because she’d planned to be angry with Harrow for the next few hours at least. But now that she’s with Harrow, now that she’s assured herself Harrow isn’t dead, just holed away in some obscure corner of the House reading as normal, a sense of calm steals over Gideon. She could almost go back to sleep here.

As though Harrow can read her mind, she says, “I expected you to still be asleep.”

“Tough luck. I’m as awake as I’ve ever been. I could fight off a billion bone monsters right now. Just give me my sword, and—wait, where’s my sword?”

Harrow gestures to the edge of the couch near Gideon’s feet, where to Gideon’s great relief she finds her sword propped up.

“I haven’t taken anything of yours,” Harrow says. “I only—I needed to do more research, and I thought you were safe in our rooms.”

Gideon looks around. Books are piled up on the reading stand next to the couch, right next to an ugly ninth house candle Harrow’s using in clear violation of every fire safety rule Gideon has ever learned. Harrow has of course littered the floor with books too. The candle smells waxy and unpleasant, but the familiar flickering of the feeble light makes something in Gideon’s chest unclench.

“And was it worth it? Did you find anything?”

Harrow shakes her head. “Nothing of note. This seems to be a room for the more…esoteric interests of the Lyctors. There are books here on almost everything—anatomy, various discredited magical practices, historical romances that seem improbable at best. But nothing that helps us. It’s all just…what they liked. It doesn’t tell me anything about how they achieved Lyctorhood.”

“Do they have any skin mags?” Gideon asks hopefully.

“No, you moron.”

“But how can you know if you haven’t checked for them?”

Harrow doesn’t dignify this with a response. Instead, she picks up a book from the table and starts idly thumbing through. She doesn’t dislodge Gideon from her lap. Gideon thinks about getting up, going back to her room. Maybe forcing Harrow to come with her. But the thought of leaving this couch sends a wave of nausea through her stomach, so she decides she can best do her duty as a cavalier by staying here and watching for threats.

It's seriously weird to be in Harrow’s lap, and it would normally disgust her to be so close to her adept.

From this close, Harrow smells of bloodsweat. It’s not a pleasant smell at the best of times, and it’s grown worse over the time they’ve been at Canaan House. But the warmth of her—better than the empty fireplace in the corner, anyway. Gideon’s eyes start to drift closed.

Then something occurs to her.

“If you aren’t finding anything useful, then why are you still here?”

Above her, pages turn slowly. Harrow is silent for a long moment.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she says finally. “I needed a distraction.”

This might be the most honest thing Harrow has ever admitted to Gideon. Gideon has long suspected that Harrowhark spends so much time studying bone magic because she doesn’t have any other hobbies, aside from conjuring skeletons to trip Gideon while she’s going down the stairs. It’s nice to have that confirmed.

Maybe once Harrow has seen the appeal of books that aren’t dusty academic tomes, she’ll grow more lenient about Gideon’s preferred reading material.

Not that it will matter. As soon as Harrow becomes a Lyctor, Gideon will never have to see her again. Harrow will never again tell Gideon what she can and can’t read. She’ll never again feel Gideon’s pulse, checking for life.

She probably won’t even care if Gideon lives, once she’s a Lyctor.

Gideon squirms around. She hates to call it nestling, because it’s not. But she finds a more comfortable position on the couch. Harrow adjusts herself above Gideon too. She props her elbow on Gideon’s shoulder as she turns another page.

“Will you read to me?” Gideon says. She must be out of her mind with exhaustion.

“I don’t see why you would want that.”

“I need to stay awake. Protect us from threats and all. It’s not because I crave your dulcet tones, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried about that. I know you hate me, Nav.”

Gideon almost agrees on instinct, but something stops her. Maybe it’s the quiet of the room, or maybe it’s the warmth of Harrow’s horrible little body, but she doesn’t have it in her to put up the usual fight.

Anyway, Harrow doesn’t seem to need a response. After a moment, she clears her throat and begins:

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.”

And although this intrigues Gideon, although under other conditions, Gideon would have loved to hear a story that wasn’t about how bad nuns go to hell and good nuns get to serve the King Undying, Gideon nevertheless finds herself drifting off into a comfortable doze.

She tries to keep her eyes open, but Harrow’s clear, calm voice reads on, and Gideon’s eyelids droop until she can no longer watch the flickering of the candle. At the very edges of her consciousness, she thinks she feels Harrow’s fingers brush lightly over her forehead again, smoothing back her hair.

“You can sleep,” dream Harrow says. “I’ll kill the light.”

[souryogurt64]

wait idk if i'm reading this right but i'm genuinely curious – you showed pete wentz your essay on his book? how? and what did he say omg

Ok no but last summer I posted a youtube video that contained a part where I talk about pete and his friend. Around the same time, this person posted on social media about a different essay I wrote. Like five days later I saw fall out boy in concert front row and had a bizarre extended interaction with him where I am convinced he recognized me from the video.

In the weeks after this happened, all the copies of his book disappeared from Amazon and so did the cover art, as well as many sources I linked in my essays. Strange things also happened such as an unfamiliar Chicago IP address went through 1,247 pages of my blog seeing if I ever posted about Pete’s mother, and someone filed a complaint on my Vimeo account (complete with a name address and phone number) for a fancam of Goodnight Moon, which is Pete’s softcore porno. Whoever filled this form out claimed they were an authorized representative of the copyright holder for Toxic by A Static Lullaby.

This fancam was posted 7 years earlier and had maybe 50 views. I found this very odd considering that A Static Lullaby are no longer active and this is a really obscure video, but the bibliography of the aforementioned YouTube video linked to a different video on my Vimeo account. It seems more likely to me that someone wanted this copy of Goodnight Moon taken down than the song.

Additionally, this all happened in Julyish, and a few months later FOB began selling an edited copy of one of the interviews that had been taken down, with that quote removed. I found this also extremely odd, especially since this quote was included in the essay that Pete’s friend had posted about.

Fall out boy’s idiot fans love to like scream at me and pee themselves saying none of this is real and I secretly have schizophrenia but I do not. I have not talked about and do not want to talk about many other elements of this and why I have arrived at these conclusions because it involves 2 people who are not famous who have both made it very clear to me they are aware of my essays and blog.

But anyway, I personally feel that if two of his friends definitely know about my essays and blogs, and weeks after this happens a bunch of stuff I linked starts getting removed and his dumb book gets partially pulled out of circulation, it is very obvious to fill in the blanks that one or both of them told their friend about this and his management or whatever subsequently started excessively policing and micromanaging and trying to do damage control because he hates women and doesn’t want women saying anything intelligent about his band and anything that isn’t “Daddy spit on me.” I included these people in the essays because I wanted them to be found, but I am not happy with what happened at all.

People can say that I’m crazy and a bitch and a liar until the cows come home but I know all of these strange things are likely not coincidental. And like I was going to let it go but the persistent harassment from their fans when I was JOKING about “dictator wentz” and also his decision to pretend to be a champion of women’s free speech as long as it’s “Daddy spit on me” is like. Enough lol . I was scared to talk about it for a long time but IDC anymore and I will never be quiet forever now

[spikesbunny]

♥︎ HAVE YA SEEN HER? ♥︎

+ warnings: pet names, dehya has a cock, unprotected sex, public sex, vaginal fingering, cowgirl position, intoxicated sex, dehya is an outlaw (sorta ooc, speaks in a western accent), not proof read 'cause i wrote this in tumblr drafts

+ ft: outlaw! lioness dehya x fem reader

+ wc: 2.1k

+ desc: have ya seen her, 5'9", thick and fine? well, actually about 5'6", in her 20s, and a lioness cowgirl?? well, you have! and she walks into the same damn bar as you on your birthday night. so what happens when a town girl meets her ride or die - and takes a ride for the night?

+ notes: this was originally supposed to be the 'cowboy hat rule' , but i decided making it tyrant inspired was much much better (but don't fret, i will write that hat rule <3)

nsfw under the cut... minors + men dni !!

the small town you called your home always had something going on. rebellious scholars picking fights with locals, nightly bar fights, and of course, the shoot offs. you don't understand how this place even still stands, so much crime went around.

it wasn't like any of the locals cared, you all learned to turn a blind eye. it was better to stay out of trouble with the outlaws, especially the cowboys.

under any normal circumstances, you wouldn't even think about going to the bar. but tonight was different. it just so happened to be your birthday, and candace so lovingly invited you out for a drink or two. just for fun is what she told you.

you find her sitting there, smiling and waving you over. "i'm glad you came, you never really want to come to these little hangouts" the guardian chuckles as you settle down next to her in the cramped booth.

the place reeked of booze, vomit, and sex. all you could think about how this spot practically screamed 'please commit crimes here.'

"i'm surprised you of all people want to come here. isn't you duty over at aaru village the guardian?" you ask, looking over the menu. at least the drinks are cheap...

"we both can fight, can't we? besides, most of the ruckus happens up front. we shouldn't have to worry about this dingy old booth back here."

you smile softly. damn, she really thought this out. "well, cheers then. to another year of me throwing away my life."

your friend shakes her head, her different colored eyes peering at you. "you never give yourself enough credit. nonetheless, i won't lecture you tonight. this rounds on me, okay?" she informs, calling a waitress over to order you a round of shots.

as the night passes on, you loosen up, sharing a few more rounds with candace. honestly, you hadn't even noticed any of the no good criminals walking in and out of the place.

that was, until she came. pretty, long brown hair with amber highlights, pretty dark skin, a muscular build, and... a cowboy hat? oh no, oh no no no, this can't be good.

you try to shake away the thought of her, but there she stood, by the bar, nails resembling cat claws tapping at the counter as she waited for a drink.

damn, she even had a cute pair of lion ears to match. she was the whole package - minus the obvious crime affiliation.

candace takes note of your staring, glancing over. "oh, lord. dehya?? come on..."

"what?" you ask. "she can't be that bad."

"she's an outlaw! a very notorious one, at that. well known for hosting gunfights and starting ruckuses."

"oh, well, maybe i can change her?" you sounded so stupid, you told yourself. you can't change an outlaw, that's insane?? right?? yet why did you want to do it so badly?

"candace, it is my birthday..." you plead, looking at her.

"fine, i have a patrol anyways. stay safe though, okay? call me if you need anything." you nod, thanking her for the time. discreetly, she slides you a pair of handcuffs across the table. pink, fuzzy ones.

your face reddens at the object laid on the table. "candace??" you whisper, looking around, pocketing them into your purse. "seriously???"

"what? she's an outlaw, she's probably into that stuff." she replies, walking off. "now, bye bye, have fun and stay safe, okay?"

you nod, waving bye to her. she was more compliant than i expected... maybe this dehya isn't that bad?

you down another shot, building up the courage to approach her. after all, outlaws like talking, right?? besides, she seems more docile than the others present in the bar.

you rise from your booth, slowly making your way to where the chestnut haired women stands.

the lioness, alert to the sound of your approaching footsteps, turns to face you. "well, hello, darlin'" she purrs, a country drawl. it wasn't native to sumeru city, you could tell, she was definitely part of the western side of the desert. "what brings a pretty gal like you ta me." her tongue swipes across her crimson painted lips, almost like he was licking the air around you.

"well-" you start, a bit nervous now that this gorgeous beast of a woman looms over you. "you seemed like a sweet woman, so i was wondering if you cared to share a drink?"

damn, you were never normally this bold.

"why, of course not. i'd be a damn fool not ta throw one back with a lil' lady like ya."

you nod, letting her guide you to a new booth, more secluded than the previous one.

"so, what are you doing in this small town? i know we draw attention to a lotta outlaws, but you seem a bit... classier? than this old hunk of land."

dehya giggles, shaking her head as she sips her drink. "oh, pretty girl, no town's too small f' me. in fact, your town's quite cute n' quaint. if i didn't have the reputation i do now, i reckon i mightva settled down here." she confess, a genuine smile on her face. it was pretty, how her lips curled.

her grin turned predatory shortly, sharp canines poking out. "but, i can't deny, i love my lifestyle. the freedom, the adrenaline, rush, oh! get's me goin." she purrs, a soft rumble in her chest.

"and what about you, dollface? 's this town really enough f' ya?" she ask, her ice blue eyes meeting yours.

you take a sip of the drink she bought you - a screwdriver, which just so happened to be one of your favorites. "well, i was kinda raised here, so i'm a bit used to the usual quietness, minus all the disturbances local outlaws like to cause." you reply, giggling. "i've never really considered going further than here, ya know?"

dehya nods, understanding. "yea, this place don't seem too bad. but a pretty girl like ya deserves somethin, homier. a nice house, a lovin family, not this shitshow rundown town."

you blush at her words, hearing the genuine meaning of them. god, candace, why'd you even tell me she's a criminal? she seems so sweet...

"anyways, sweetheart," the lioness starts, her eyes roaming your body in the dimly lit bar. "a girl like you got a lucky man?"

"oh, no, no no!" you reply, waving your hands. "i, uhm, i don't swing that way. much more into women."

"ah, so a lady with refined taste? i shoulda guessed by the way ya downed that screwdriver." she winks, a predatory smile crossing her lips.

that wink caused a full array of butterflies in your stomach. you didn't know if it was her, or the alcohol getting to you.

as the night progressed, the two of you continued to discuss simple things, dehya eventually moving to sit next to you in your booth. her body was pressed so close to yours, you could feel the muscles in her biceps and thighs flexing as she crossed her legs, or moved to grab a drink.

subconsciously, you lean into her shoulder, relishing in the scarred skin. her touches on your thighs lingered, and your head slowly moved to rest against her chest.

the two of you sat cuddled up in the booth, alcohol turning your brain fuzzy, the urge to make a move filling every nook and cranny in your mind.

luckily for you, dehya made the move.

as the night dragged on, her lips slowly found their way to your neck, her kisses small and gentle at first, before developing into sloppier, wetter, hungrier ones.

her hands trailed across your thighs, searing her lust and need into your own skin.

you find yourself settling into her lap, your thighs pressing against her much more muscular, sculpted ones. those pretty calloused hands roam your waist, as her lips and fangs find their way to your collarbone.

"sweetheart, i reckon this night's gonna get a bit more rowdier... ya ever rode a cowgirl? or more specifically, a wanted outlaw?"

you shake your head no. this was definitely a first, especially in such a public setting. but with the new position, her hardened cock pressed so deliciously against your cunt, the clothes a sweet friction yet tedious barrier.

dehya takes your hips, slowly guiding you to grind against her. the rhythm started slow, your hips ever so gently rolling into hers as lips collided.

she kissed you softly, before delving into something deeper, and more primal, lips clashing and tongues mingling, hands groping and grabbing at whatever you two could.

the corner was dim, so no one could really see you two, lost in a haze of sudden lust.

the lioness wasted no time, her rough hands moving aside your panties, swiping up your slit and collecting the slick that was pooling.

"goddamn, darlin, ya're already so drenched. didn't know i had that affect on such a cute lil thing." she coos, her calloused thumbpad rubbing circles around your sensitive clit.

you hide your face in her neck, groaning softly as the outlaw leisurely works at you, dipping one finger into your entrance, her thumb still tracing shapes.

"good girl" she purrs roughly into your ear, her cock twitching against her trousers. god, she needed to be inside you now.

dehya slips another finger in, curling them in your velvety walls right against that gooey spot, earning a louder moan from you. her fingers continue their pursuit, trying to draw you to your orgasm.

"you said 's ya birthday, pretty?" she ask, her tail flicking against your leg.

you nod, unable to speak out of fear of moaning loud enough for other bar-goers to hear. her fingers drew lewd, wet sounds from your cunt, and dehya relished in it.

you groan, orgasm approaching, squeezing her fingers. the outlaw takes it as a hint, picking up the pace, her fingers bringing you down from your high.

she kisses your cheek, before licking it, purring into your ear. "think of this as a 'happy birthday gift', would ya?"

her hands go to her belt, undoing it hastily to free her dick from her restraints.

she waste no time, rubbing the head against your slit, earning a hiss from her. "fuck, baby, need to be inside"

"please?" you whine in agreement, moaning messily as her tip bumps your sensitive clit.

dehya nods, positioning herself, slowly sinking into you as you sit on her lap. she bites down gently on your shoulder, her words whispered into your flesh.

"you wanna ride, or want me to take control?"

"you."

she kisses your jaw, sloppily rutting up into you, stretching you out deliciously. the way her cockhead hits that spongey spot has you seeing stars, her lips and hands burning your body as she thrust up into you.

"shit, squeezin' me so good, dollface." she groans, kissing your pulse point.

you prayed no one in the damn bar could see how wrecked you were, after all, how would it look, the goody-two-shoed town girl getting fucked in a bar by a bypassing outlaw? who had many wanted posters?

it was erotic, to say the least.

and she did it so well, always hitting that spot in you, every roll and rock so deliciously enticing. it was the best birthday gift you could get.

you can tell dehya's getting closer, her thrust growing more sporadic and messy.

you can't help but clench around her, practically holding her inside as you cum again tonight, causing a chain reaction of her spilling into your pussy, pretty white ropes filling you up.

she stills her hips, panting softly, fixing your hair out of your bangs.

"well, dollface, why don't we get outta here, hm? i can take ya back to ya place, and, ya know, maybe see where else this night goes?"

you nod, letting dehya readjust your undergarments and skirt while zipping herself back up. she leaves the tab on the table, winking at the waitress as her hand clasp yours.

"wait, ya might need this." she replies, settling her hat over your head.

you blush, unsure of exactly what to do, but follow her out of the bar, guiding you and her home.

and that's when you remember the handcuffs.

maybe you could get her to cuff you up later?

©2024 spikesbunny - please do not repost or translate my works on other media sites ♡

[faiasakura]

Latest Line Tag Game

Rules: in a new post, show off the last line you wrote and try to tag as many people as there are words.

Tagged by @disniq

For now, he’ll keep the amnesia problem to himself.

Tagging 9 people: @sayasays @qorktrees @tinydance @bookwyrmling @overzelos @surefireshore @khashanakalashtar @alasse-irena @cardinal-paperback-historian

If you see this and want to play, tag you’re it!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

OKAY LOOK I'M SORRY I KEPT DOING THE STUPID QUIZZES AND I FOUND ANOTHER REALLY COOL ONE AND I JUST IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT OF YOU (i'm moving into your inbox i live here now) no but fr i thought it was so cool and their poem lines were so fcking good???????????? woww

i got violent; "it is the way you would walk through glass to see a smile"; "give and never take for the guilt that comes with wanting is suffocating" THIS QUIZMASTER IS COMING FOR ME a bit life-changing quotes though i hope this person is having such a good day omfg

https://uquiz.com/quiz/evn4G3?p=6133991

- @softgirlgonehaywire

NEVER APOLOGIZE MICKEY I LOVE UQUIZZES LIKE I LOVE NOTHING ELSE ON THIS PLANET its literally my love language u know the way to my heart <3333 FEEL FREE TO MOVE IN i will make my inbox cozy just for u. i can leave a pillow fort in the corner. a cat plushie . make urself at home <33

BUT okok ive done the soldier/poet/king quiz before bUT i did it again (and realized how ihtctaot coded it is that kinda stung huh) and!! i got :D

… the king!! hehe. dare i say prince!gojo coded.. u see the vision i know i can trust u. ”you are tired of being steady” ohhhh they are coming for our LIVES mickey………

AND AND ANDDD the other quiz was soso lovely i adored it!! i loovveeee quizzes w lots of pinterest image / song lyric questions they r my favorite ever <33 THIS RESULT WAS SO CUTE TOO WAHH (AND THE WAY WE GOT VIOLENT/SOFT…. the ari/mickey parallels r once again unparalleled)

THAT WAS SO FUN TYSM MICKEYY… if u have any more quizzes at any point PLEASE break in i lovelovelove taking uquizzes ppl send me and also forcing other ppl to take uquizzes i like!!

… so ofc i had to return the favor:

what are you to your friends?

what highly specific emotion are you?

i hunted down two of my fave quizzes <3 hope u enjoy them hehe. i think theyre so fun n wellwritten. these were my results!! (i resonated a lot w them tbh….) i wanna know urs so bad too!!!!!

(AND ALSO just as a side thing. if u r interested here are my top recs for jjk bf and gf quizzes <33 i got shoko and gojo life is good i think the results r soso cute and real)

[doueverwonder]

so anyway diagnosing with google obviously isn't completely reliable but I need to find something that I can pull up to try to convince my dad to let me go to a doctor; and uh, I was reading about fibromyalgia? and it said it mostly diagnosed in adults but the symptoms typically start much earlier so i went "oh, i wonder when"

11-15.

The symptoms of fibromyalgia, all of which I have, typically start the same time all my stuff did.

Hm

Hmmmmmmmmmmm

[daydadahlias]

no ok but the bad fic pitches would be a great way to get through writers block bc you’d never have to feel guilty about not posting it if it turns out bad

a bad fic pitch a day keeps the writer's block away

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

can’t wait until the hatchetfield series is finished so that i can write fanfic for it

[pandemieinverse]

i made too many damn art this year

[suiana]

wait yall i think im cooking with this one...

imagine yandere! cell mate and yandere! police officer threesome??? even better if the two of them are friends with each other???

so you do lots of petty crime right, and dear ol' police officer comes back again for the nth time to throw you into your cell until you get bailed out by your family or something. you're ecstatic to see that your cell mate is yet again the same old guy who has grown a weird obsession with you over your numerous jail visits.

you still remember the first time you met him. he was sitting on the floor, dozing off until you ruined his peace and tranquility with your yelp.

"...new bunkie huh? what you in for?"

"vandalism. i wrote cock and balls on the train floor."

"cool, I'm in here for murder."

from there, a beautiful friendship (more like one-sided love) was formed. you'd come and stay in there with him for a day or two before disappearing for a week. then you'd, repeating the cycle.

"you're back again. what did you do this time?"

"public nuisance. i shouted all men should be breedable on the streets and the straights didn't like that."

your cell mate is absolutely enamoured by you at this point and he can't help but stare at you like you've hung the stars in the sky. sure, it took a bit of time getting used to you but before he knew it, you had become the center of his life and he wanted nothing more than to have you be his bunkie for life.

can't forget about our dearest police officer too. he was actually the first one to fall for you. the second he laid eyes on you, it was like his whole life was changed. all of a sudden, everything looked like a romance movie with you and him as the main actors.

of course, the two of them realize that the other is in love with you and vice versa. yan police officer could bend the rules and have you all to himself, but he's by no means a traitor. if his best friend loves you, he should share too, right? so the two of them come to a compromise and agree to share you.

the only problem is getting you to stay there permanently. after all, you've never really done anything... major before. all just slight annoyances at most.

your cell mate can only hope and wish that you'd murder someone to land yourself a life imprisonment. your police officer totally agrees with him and even proposes a solution to their dilemma.

what if they frame you for a serious crime?

after all, nothing is too much if it means having you with them forever.

[keyotos]

he does it so well

summary ⎯ hot things they do.

includes ⎯ dan heng, gepard, blade, sampo, & jing yuan.

tana's words ⎯ struggling with writing requests rn so i wrote something short to clear writer's block. im sorry guys i'll get to them soon i promise 😭

dan heng

⎯ waits for you before turning the page on a book. he notices that you are reading along with him and waits for you to signal that you're ready before carrying on.

⎯ private > public. he will brush your hand in public but he will be all over you in private. instead of only brushing your hand, dan heng will be brushing up on you. more touchy in private than in public.

⎯ pushes the hair out of your face when it's getting in your way. but he does it in a more sensual way. his fingers graze your lips as he agonizingly drags his hand through your hair.

⎯ long day? melts into your body at night. runs his hands up and down your arms as a way to relieve stress?? leans his head into your neck and sighs so dreamily??? like hello?? lips grazing your neck???

⎯ hot morning voice. raspy and rough. also kind of scratchy. when he tells you, "five more minutes," how could you say no to THAT voice? he knows of this effect and makes sure to use it to his full advantage

⎯ very observant. knows everything you like; knows your routines; knows you. he's the first to compliment you if you got a haircut or new outfit/nails/whatever. it always make you blush bc how is he always the first one to figure these things out?!?@#$%

⎯ gets jealous a little too easily. doesn't do anything verbal about it. opts for being a little more touchy than usual. he thinks it's embarrassing and he wants to hide his face into his pillow when you tease him about it.

⎯ lip biter. not when y'all are kissing, but when he tries to hide his smile or his laugh he bites his lip. you find it so cute and you just want to grab him and just connect your lips with his.

⎯ nerd. hot sexy nerd. he'll tell you about animals and mitosis and python and he's just so intelligent. helps you with problem solving things (probably puzzles idk) and he stands/leans over you with his breath dancing on the back of your neck.

⎯ jawline kisser. if he wants something from you he gives chaste kisses to your jawline. he does that when he's bored too ig. very big on jaw kisses and secretly loves when you flush because of them.

gepard

⎯ blushes when you compliment him. he looks so adorable you just wanna pinch his cheeks and smother him. he gets even more embarrassed

⎯ big domestic guy. ntm on casual stuff or situationships. if he wants you, he'll let you know (even if he's blushing his way through it).

⎯ he is not shy. in the beginning he might be a little shy, but later on the relationship he'll get bolder. chaste kisses on the lips becomes long make-out sessions on his bed after a rather tiring day on the front lines. and if he hasn't seen you in a while... i will let you guys interpret.

⎯ leans down to listen to you. he's literally gigantic and when he LEANS DOWN just to hear what you say... and it's so innocent too but the way you look up at him doesn't make it so innocent anymore...

⎯ pins you to the wall on accident. may or may not be inspired by teenage dream. anyway, he does a lot of hot things on accident and doesn't even realize it. so you are trying not to explode while gepard is enjoying his merry day while caging you underneath him.

⎯ acts like a knight since u always make jokes that he's your "knight in shining armor." so dedicated that he kisses your knuckles out of nowhere and it makes you want to FAINT. like you could be reading and (out of nowhere) he takes your hand away from your book and kisses ur knuckles. AND HE HOLDS EYE CONTACT WHILE DOING IT.

⎯ flirty without knowing it. says something cute and flirty but doesn't realize it until you say something. and he says it so calmly too; like drops it into a convo

⎯ runs a hand through your hair before you two sleep. he just wants to keep you close and he just wants to feel you because he never gets to come home often.

⎯ ROLLS UP. HIS SLEEVES. TO HIS FOREARMS. he does this when he's particularly stressed. like come here i can show you a way to destress (i'm so sorry).

blade

⎯ he's only shirtless when YOU are around. he trusts you enough to show all of himself around you. you are reliable and trustworthy enough to be able to know the entirety of him: his body, his mind, his past, etc.

⎯ intensely loyal to you. like if he had to choose between the world and you he would obviously choose you. would do anything for you, would buy anything for you, would steal anything for you: you guys get the gist.

⎯ he's so loving only towards you. silver wolf and kafka like to tease him for it (especially silver wolf... bc how can he play a game with you and not her). he does little things for you, like picking lint off of your outfit or pulling your hair back when you're eating something. or pulling your hair back when you're doing something...

⎯ LOVES when you wear his clothing. his shirt his jacket ANYTHING. whatever it is, he will be going crazy for it. has a thing for when you wear his shirts; you just look so good and you're wearing something that's HIS. not anyone else's; HIS SHIRT.

⎯ has a little possessive streak. it's not a weird and overprotective possessive thing tho. more so, "no silver wolf you are not going to force them to play games with you." maybe it's more overprotective than possessive, but secretly he wants you all to himself and he does NOT want to share.

⎯ speaking of being overprotective, he is also just regular protective. he walks on the side near the road so you don't have to. he grabs your arm to pull you away from something dangerous. he shields you so he'll get hit before you. yk, cute stuff like that. your safety is his priority, no matter what.

⎯ he is the type to be like, "who did this to you??" and he WILL be hunting that person down. but not without urgently caring for you first.

⎯ his touch is so filled with emotion, genuineness, earnestness, and sincere. i hc that blade doesn't have much relationship experience and he isn't very wordy, so when he hugs you or touches you, all of his emotions are poured into his hands/fingers/etc. all of what he feels for you (which is very much) is shown in his physical touch.

sampo

⎯ MANSPREADS. i said it. HE IS A MANSPREADER. elbows resting on top of his knees as he says something super coy or flirty towards you, and sometimes you even have to PHYSICALLY avert your eyes away.

⎯ a tease. if you lean in for a kiss, he'll lean backwards. if he's missing you, his fingertips will dance along the bare skin of your sides, and then he'll pull away to make you want him as much as he wants you. he is so INFURIATING.

⎯ if he flusters you and you blush n try to cover your face with something (literally anything), he'll grab whatever you're holding so he could see your face. to him, you look the prettiest when you're smiley and flustered, such as in those situations.

⎯ if you're going on a long tangent about something, he'll kiss you on your lips randomly. he doesn't mind your rambling, he thinks it's adorable, which is why he does it. it always leaves you with your jaw dropped before you could continue what you were saying.

⎯ the type to lock himself in a closet with you but on accident. you guys don't know how you two even got into that situation, but sampo is with you, so he couldn't be happier. big quality time guy.

⎯ brings you little trinkets or gifts based on his "business" adventures. whenever he sees something, he gets it for you. his mind is usually racing about you anyway, so he can't help himself when he develops a spending problem because of you

⎯ sings with you to songs. you could be singing in the shower and then you hear this agitating, grating voice. he's a terrible singer, but he'll do anything as long as you're there with him, so he sings with you anyway.

jing yuan

⎯ wakes up and the first thing he does is admire you. he studies every single one of your facial features, acting as if he's never seen them before when he wakes up to your face every day. he finds beauty all around you: in your sleeping face, on the bridge of your nose, the pout of your lips when you're asleep. he just loves all of you.

⎯ a flirt and PROUD. he's bold with his quips. not afraid of initiating affection in public but he prefers private which i think is much sexier.

⎯ neck kisser. heavy on neck kisses (especially in the morning). practically an entire body kisser tbh. he can't get enough of you, and in a world where loneliness strives (immortality), he's grateful that he has you for the time being.

⎯ grabs your chin and tilts your head up if he wants you. he doesn't do it forcefully, more like a gentle smush. he locks eyes with you and omfg it makes your heart beat sm. like why are you looking at me LIKE THAT. so sensually or whateva....

⎯ urges you to come closer to him so he can whisper something in your ear. when do you come closer to him, he pulls you by the waist and gets super close to your ear. like lips brushing your ear. and he blows a raspberry in it. so stupid but too lovable.

⎯ lies down in your lap if you two are lounging together. since he's so busy, he doesn't get to lounge around often, so he likes to be as close to you as possible.

⎯ if he wants to kiss you, you will know. not because he'll tell you. but because of the specific LOOK he gives you. his eyes are narrowed under the spell of seduction, focusing only on your lips. his mouth is slightly parted like he is ready to kiss you, and the way he tilts his head down...

⎯ patient for you. will wait for you even when he is dying to feel you once again. he has to deal with yanqing so he holds a lot of patience. but he won't rush you with anything, lets you move at your own pace, and gives you help if needed. overall sweet guy.

i hope this motivates me into finishing my requests

[strang3lov3]

Bite Me

You learn two things on a particularly boring patrol shift - Joel loves to bite and you love to be bitten (5.3k)

Tags - 18+, smut, bite kink, lots and lots of biting, spitting, joel eats you out from behind because he's just in that kind of mood, brief ass eating, anything one can do with their mouth joel does to you, unprotected piv, creampie, not? gentle? sex, little dubcon bc joel is a maniac, little bit of blood, one (1) dad joke, skin tone is not described but bites and bruises in reader's skin are mentioned. Fic help - @noxturnalpascal for editing and @endlessthxxghts and @beefrobeefcal for encouraging this!! i love you all! A/N - thanks for your patience! I’m working on bigger things that are out of my comfort zone so enjoy this snack sized fic until dinner’s ready. I wrote this with my heart but most importantly my pussy, I hope that translates.

You and Joel are on patrol together at your usual post, an old two story house about an hour’s ride outside of Jackson. It’s early July, which usually means there’s more activity to keep an eye on as the summer warms; raiders, infected, strangers and the like. But not lately - there haven’t been any major threats, nothing to make your patrol shifts daunting like they usually are. It’s just been quiet and peaceful.

Boring.

So. Fucking Boring.

You’ve picked through everything in this house several times over and never found much. There’s no food or tools or anything useful, but there’s not even anything particularly interesting either. No paintings on the walls, no photo albums of old families to flip through as you like to do. There’s no books in the house either, apart from a few damaged by water and with torn pages, rendering them unreadable. 

Joel used to get on your case about this, gruffly telling you to ‘Quit fuckin’ around’ and ‘Should be payin’ attention to your surroundings, not snoopin’ through shit that ain’t there’. But eventually, he got bored too. The surroundings never change, not much to really pay attention to, even for Joel. 

There was one time Joel didn’t yell at you as you wandered off, and when you came back upstairs you found him sitting on a couch in the room with a big window, hunched over a coffee table, picking up and laying down playing cards. Solitaire. 

You leaned over the back of the couch and tapped him on the shoulder, “Aren’t we supposed to be keeping watch?” you asked, teasing.

Joel turned over his shoulder and glanced at you, then turned back to his cards and continued playing. “Smartass,” he mumbled. “You gonna rat on me?”

 “No. As long as you know you’re a hypocrite,”  you replied before rounding the side of the old couch and sitting next to him. You watched him as he flipped through the deck a couple times over, then he sighed in defeat. “Did you lose?”

“Yup,” he answered, gathering the cards and shuffling them a couple of times. “You’re losin’ next, though. You’re gonna play with me.”

“I don’t know any card games.”

Joel looked at you incredulously, “Bullshit,”  he said. A deck of cards was one of the most valuable things one could own post-apocalypse. Endless games for solo play and small groups of people alike. Not much else to do to pass the time, but then again, people stay busy in Jackson.

“Oh wait - yeah, I do know one. I know Go Fish. Do you wanna play that one?”

“Pass,” he answered. “I’d rather play nothin’ at all if that’s our only game. You know Crazy 8’s, don’t you? Gin Rummy?” 

“Nope.”

“I’m gonna rectify that, then. C’mere.”

Joel taught you three games that night. The first being War, because it’s easy and luck based - something for you to dip your toes into. The next was Crazy 8’s and then finally, Gin Rummy. 

You weren’t lying when you told Joel you didn’t know any card games, but only because you could never learn. You didn’t like the pressure of learning in groups, didn’t like the vague instructions being shouted at you. Euchre was particularly awful to learn, you were holding back tears trying to get through that game. But Joel taught you differently, he was gentle and patient and calm with an open hand of cards. He’d play fairly and wouldn’t take advantage of your inexperience. His patience paid off - after some time, he had a consistent opponent for card games and your patrols together became a lot less boring. Now Joel never has to play another lonely game of solitaire again. You play with him just about every shift now, when it’s quiet and there’s nothing going on. Your favorite games to play are Crazy 8’s and War, not much strategy involved in those but Joel enjoys them anyway. 

After taking your usual spots together on the couch, Joel reaches into a pocket of his backpack, the one on the inside that fits his deck of cards like a glove. “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath. 

“What’s the matter?”

“No cards,” he murmurs, feeling around through his items and coming up empty. “Must’ve left ‘em at Tommy’s.” Tommy and Maria recently hosted a game night and invited a couple of people, Joel being one of them. And then Joel brought you along to be his partner in group games. Playing with him one on one made you feel special, but you liked that he took you along as his date of-sorts. He shot you secret little winks from across the table before clearing his throat and furrowing his eyebrows as he examined his hand. 

“Oh,” you say. “So I guess we’re actually patrolling tonight, then.”

“‘Bout time,” Joel replies with a soft chuckle. “Maybe somethin’ of interest will happen, finally.”

“Oh god, don’t say that. I really hope not.”

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, “Me neither.”

It’s nice to watch the sunset through the big window, very relaxing and beautiful. As the light disappears, the color in the room begins to fade and looks like television in black and white. Joel looks like one of those old-timey movie stars, he has the face for it. He stares out the window and twists the end of his mustache and you think that could play the criminally handsome villain. All dark and mysterious, with his sharp nose and inky eyes. 

“Whatcha’ lookin’ at?”

Oops. Busted. “Nothing,” you lie. You don’t catch Joel’s smirk as you excuse yourself to go look through the house for the millionth time. Maybe there’s something to do around here that you’ve not seen before. Or a book, you’ll read anything - an instruction manual to a vacuum cleaner or a Cuisinart food processor even. Anything. 

But there’s nothing new, nothing’s changed. Your fingerprints on cabinets and drawers from months and months before still sit in the dust. This place is fair and squarely empty. You sigh deeply before you return to Joel upstairs. “I’m bored,” you whine in his direction.

“Hi bored, I’m Joel.”

You could make waves with the power of your eye roll. “Are you sure you don’t have your cards?”

Joel rifles through his belongings once more and sighs. “Nope. Definitely at Tommy’s. God bless it.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “We’ll live.”

You don’t know that you will live, though. Death by boredom feels more likely. The minutes pass, but they feel like hours in the deafening silence. Joel makes no effort at conversation, which is very true to himself. He’s not much of a talker anyway, but leave it to Joel to sit in silence when even light smalltalk would make a world of difference in making this a less boring night. 

Some minutes pass and you’re starting to get fidgety. You crack the knuckles in your hand, one by one by one which garners a look from Joel. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he murmurs. 

You pick at your nails next, trying to even out some jagged and split edges. Joel looks at you again, glaring as you pick and pick. He fucking hates that sound. His chemistry teacher in high school used to pick at her fingernails during tests and it always made this awful, high pitched click, which was especially grating in the silence. The noise drives him crazy, like nails on a chalkboard. “I’d appreciate it if you’d quit pickin’ at your nails, hon, that noise makes my teeth hurt.”

“What do you mean, ‘makes your teeth hurt’?” you ask, still picking at your nails. You’ve almost got that one hangnail.

“Gives me the heebie jeebies, I don’t know–” Click. You got the nail. Joel shivers while gritting his teeth and groaning. “Knock it off,” he hisses.  

“Okay, sorry,” you say. “I’m done.”

“Thank you.”

Peace and quiet once more. Joel’s bored too, but he doesn’t mind the insipidity of the evening as much as you do. He likes having the time to reflect, to slow down and collect his thoughts. He’s thinking about his day off tomorrow, what he’s gonna do. Probably harvest some vegetables from his garden, do a load of laundry and–

Click.

“What’d I just ask?”

You freeze where you’re at, the nail of one of your thumbs picking at the other, you’re caught red handed. “Shit. Sorry, Joel.” 

“Uh-huh. Sit on your hands,” he commands. 

“What?”

“You heard me. Sit on ‘em.” You roll your eyes as you wedge both of your hands under your thighs just like Joel asked and he nods in approval. “There. F’you can sit still for twenty minutes, you can have your hand privileges back.”

“You can’t take away my hand privileges, Joel. They’re hands. They’re attached to me.”

“I can, indeed. If ya do it again, you’re losin’ a finger.”

A baseless threat, but you know Joel means business so you do your best to sit still. Surely he doesn’t actually expect you to not move at all. You’re allowed to adjust, move yourself into a more comfortable position so you do, and then you feel the corner of your nail get stuck on a thread of your jeans. You pull your hand from under yourself to examine it, feel the irregularity. You’re trying to ignore it but you just can’t. 

Pick pick pick.

Joel turns to your direction and in a swift movement, grabs both of your hands in his and squeezes, shaking you gently. “Enough,” he fumes, frustration in his voice. He loosens his grip slightly and you pull your hands away before you really do lose a finger, you fear that his threat did in fact hold water. “Hey,” Joel says, his voice softened. “That’s somethin’ we could do.”

“What’s something we can do?”

“Slap jack,” he answers plainly, nodding his head like he’s waiting for you to tell him you understand. You don’t. 

“What’s slap jack?” 

“You don’t know slap jack?” he asks. You shake your head, no. “You don’t know much, do you?”

“Hey,” you complain. Rude. 

“Relax, I’m teasin’,” he says, “You know you’re a smartass. Now give me your hands.” Cautiously, you extend your hands towards Joel and he takes them gently in his own, “Flatten ‘em,” he says, “Like this.” maneuvering your hands into place so that your palms are facing the ground. He places his hands underneath yours, his palms facing the ceiling. “Ready?”

“I guess?”

Bam. Joel flips his hands on top of yours and slaps the back of your hands. “Joel!” you shriek. “That hurt.” 

“Well don’t let me hit you, then,” he smirks. “That’s the game. You gotta move your hands before I getcha.”

You giggle. And Joel really didn’t hit you hard, you were just startled. The prospect of the game excites you. “Again,” you say. 

You lay your hands out flat, Joel holds his underneath yours. He uses his fingers to tease your palms, tapping and tracing along your skin. Smack. Back in the same position once more, with your hands on top of Joel’s. He doesn’t tease this time, just smacks you again. A third time you lay your palms on his, and he teases again - fingers creeping on your skin, tickling and thrilling you. With every minor movement of Joel’s hands, you pull your hands back. “You’re flinchin’ an awful lot,” he teases. “S’usually against the rules, but I’m bein’ nice.”

“You’re gonna hit me!” 

Joel shakes his head. “I’m not gonna hit you, sweetheart. Why would I do that?” Smack. You gasp and rub the backs of your hands, smiling at Joel with an open mouth. He beat you again. “You’re terrible at this,” he says.

“It’s my turn,” you decide, laying your hands out with your palms facing up. Joel places his hands on top of yours just like how the game goes. You flip your hands to slap his and hit nothing but air. He’s too quick. Settling back into place, you try again and Joel pulls away too quickly for you to slap him. It’s the same thing over and over again until you decide you're done playing. Offense and defense, you never win, only lose.

“You’re a sore loser, you know that? Card games too, you do not like to lose, do you?”

“I don’t - you’re just–”

“Just what?”

You’re not answering that. You know what the answer is, that he’s too good at these games and you’re not but you don’t need to tell him that, inflate his ego even more. “I wanna pick a game.”

“Be my guest. One that you can win, right?” You couldn’t slap Joel’s hands but you’re sure you could slap that stupid shit-eating grin off right off of his face right now. You just take Joel’s left hand and offer him yours. “What game’s this?”

You’re retaliating. He didn’t hit you hard at any point, but you’re gonna get him back. There’s not really a name for this game, it’s just something you used to  play when you were a teenager. It’s on par with those other stupid teenager games, truth or dare and spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven.

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s the biting game.”

“Biting?” Joel looks at you incredulously.

“Yeah, biting. I bite your hand, you bite mine. See who can take it.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very nice game,” Joel says.

“Well it’s fitting then, because you’re not a very nice man.”

Joel smirks,  “No, ‘spose I’m not.”

“So, do you wanna play?”

You don’t even let him answer before bringing his hand to your mouth,  fitting your teeth over the fleshy part of it - right in between his thumb and forefinger, where his unique bullseye tattoo sits. Joel follows suit, placing his teeth over your hand and letting them rest there. You feel the heat from his mouth, the softness of his lips. His teeth are blunt, threatening to sink into you and tickling your skin as he waits for the game to begin. “Ready?” you ask, your voice muffled by his hand. Joel nods, his big brown eyes sparkling in the low light. “Okay.” 

 You bite Joel, holding his gaze. His skin is salty and warm. Joel bites with you and you’re both rather tentative at first, biting the other gently. You take the initiative to bite him harder, “Mm,” he mumbles, surprised by the pain yet won’t go further.  

“That's all you got?”

Joel raises his eyebrows at your challenge. He squeezes his eyes shut as he bites down, hard. In turn, you squeal and pull back, and Joel releases your hand in an instant. You shake your hand and rub the mark he left, laughing. “Motherfucker,” you gasp.

Joel turns on a lantern on the coffee table and takes your hand back to inspect it. “You okay?” he asks, tracing the marks in your skin. “You don’t have much of a pain tolerance.”

“It’s a sensitive spot,” you reply. 

He makes an amused sort of expression at that, still rubbing your hand as he nods in response. The closeness in proximity, the peculiar intimacy of the game you and Joel have just played - it feels like something in the atmosphere changes, charged, the way the air feels before a storm. 

Joel breaks the silence, “Bet you’re sensitive like that everywhere,” he whispers. “Should grow some thicker skin.”

“Joel–”

He takes your hand again, this time skipping that fleshy spot on your palm and instead bringing your wrist to his mouth. His mustache is prickly on your skin. Joel bites your wrist, and you can’t help but let out a little gasp, even though he’s gentle just like before. He increases pressure until you’re yelping again, but this time he doesn’t let you go. He watches you squirm, catching your lip in your own teeth as you writhe in pain. You exhale in relief when he loosens his bite, then shiver as he drags his teeth along your forearm and bites you there next, then moves up to your bicep. Each bite is harder than the last, including when he pulls the collar of your top away and bites your neck. The skin is tender and thin and it hurts, really fucking hurts as you whine in pain. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” you gasp. 

Joel soothes the bite mark with his tongue which startles you perhaps more than his teeth did. “You can take it,” he whispers against your skin before searching for another part of your neck to bite. He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts it to the side, allowing himself access to you. You feel him open his mouth and bite down, but this time it feels good. Joel notices your reaction, feeling the vibration of your moan with his mouth against your neck. “You liked that,” he says, it’s not a question. 

You’re at a loss for words. Breathing heavily, you pant, “Fu - Joel…”

“It’s okay. You can admit it.” Joel likes it too - all that flesh between his teeth. The marks of his teeth he leaves in your skin, the bruising that surrounds them - it’s his artwork, unable to be replicated. Nobody else has his teeth and nobody else has your skin. He’s not broken skin yet but he imagines the faint taste of your blood on his tongue, tangy and metallic mixed with the sweetness of your skin. Fuck, he could eat you whole. Make you hurt, oh, he’ll make you fucking hurt. He softly bites your earlobe next, “Feels good to hurt sometimes,” he purrs in your ear. The heat of his breath sends a shiver down your spine. “So I’m gonna keep bitin’, then. And you’re not gonna quit on me like last time. Are you?”

Despite the pain, the way it sort of intimidates you, you find yourself complying, nodding. You feel his mustache before his lips, his lips before his teeth, and finally his tongue, hot and wet. It’s unlike anything you’ve experienced - salacious and erotic, frightening and tormenting, all at the same time.  You feel Joel everywhere, in places he’s not even bitten or kissed or touched yet. God, you hope he touches you there.  

Joel pushes your shirt up your body, his fingers brushing over you as he reaches behind you to unclip your bra. He pushes the straps off your shoulders, you watch as the undergarment falls into your lap. Joel taps your jaw twice, “Tilt your head back for me,” he instructs. He nips at your neck and collarbones before gently pushing you down on the couch, pulling your pants and underwear down in one movement before situating himself between your legs. You’re laid out for him, bare. His canvas to paint as he pleases. With darkened eyes, Joel pores over your body - he’ll hurt you here, pleasure you there, tease you somewhere else - the horizon is endless. 

He begins with kisses down the column of your throat, cascading down your sternum. He moves over to one of your breasts and you know it’s coming, but it startles you anyway. He bites hard on such a sensitive part of you, “Shhh,” he coos, quieting you. With a strong, masculine hand on your other breast, he finds your nipple and flicks it, drags his thumb over it until it pebbles beneath his touch, effectively soothing your cries of pain and turning them into noises of pleasure. 

“Joel,” you whine. “Fuck, Joel.”

“You’re doin’ good,” he tells you. “Doin’ just fine.”

You gasp when you feel his teeth around your hardened nipple, threatening to clamp down. He bites you gently, oh so gently, just enough to secure the bud in place for him to roll between his teeth. He brings his tongue into play then, swiping it over your nipple and circling it. After repeating the action with your other breast, his head travels lower, lower. Biting at whatever he pleases, kissing when he feels like it. He bites your hips - a sharp pain, and then your thighs - dull. 

You can’t help yourself as your fingers find your sex, already so wet. You circle your clit a couple of times before Joel pulls your hand away, biting and sucking your arousal off your fingers. He replaces your fingers with his own, pushing two of his thick fingers inside you as he bites and nips at your thighs, sucking at your skin as well. His teeth, his fingers, all where you need Joel the very most - it all feels so good, so intense, you don’t quite know where pain ends and pleasure begins as he works his fingers inside you.You don’t know if he’ll bite you hard or soft, a small bite or a big mouthful of your flesh and you can only imagine the marks he’s made on your skin. He alternates between biting, sucking, kissing, licking you, using his tongue and lips and teeth to drive you wild, have you writhing and melting under him.

 Joel pulls his fingers from your core and brings them to your mouth, pushing them past your lips. “Suck,” he says, and you do, tasting the tanginess of your own arousal on your tongue. Joel takes your hips in his strong hands and flips you over on your stomach, then sits back on his knees. You hear the quiet rustling of his clothes, that discernable sound of his zipper being undone before his clothes are tossed on the ground. He bends one of your legs and leans over you to kiss and nip at your ankle, then the other, biting up your calves. He traces his tongue over the backs of your knees before he bites you gingerly, the action has you gasping and moaning. Joel chuckles against your skin. “Knew you were sensitive,” he murmurs. He kisses his way up your thighs, kisses your ass cheeks and bites where they meet your thigh. “Up, lift up, sweetheart,” he speaks softly, urging you to lift your hips. He finds his pile of clothes and bunches them beneath your hips, propping you up for him. 

Joel parts your lips with his thumbs, spreading your sick folds for easier access. You feel his hot breath on your heat and you’re nervous, anticipating that blunt feeling of his teeth on your most sensitive place, but it never comes. Instead, his nose - aquiline and perfect, tracing up your clit, your flesh until he finds your hole, his nose buried in your most private place. He spreads your cheeks and spits between them, the saliva drips down, down. He traces you with his tongue, circling clockwise, then counter. “Fuck,” you whimper, pushing your hips back into his face as your nerves tingle. He kisses the sensitive area before traveling lower, his lips finally meeting you where you need them most. “Oh god,” you whine. 

Joel dips his tongue into you, humming in pleasure as he does - he fucking loves it, the heat of your cunt and your sweet arousal soaking his face, and he knows that hours later he’ll still be able to smell you. He pumps his tongue in and out, delving into you. He drags the muscle through your folds, all wet and sticky with your slick before he finds your clit to lick and suck at that sensitive part of you. 

He eats you voraciously like he loves it, passionate and determined as he savors you. The way Joel’s lips wrap around your clit, his nose in the space he just fucked, on his knees - this is what he’s meant for, what you’re meant for too. It’s obsession. He’s all fingertips bruising into your skin under his crushing hold, his tongue a relentless assault on your sex. You feel his salt and peppery scruff scratching your inner thighs and rubbing you raw. In the coming days you'll still feel him, skin burning as the hot water of your shower runs down your legs. You love it now, and you’ll love it then. 

You’re moaning, babbling Joel’s name, begging him but you don’t know what for - For him to make you come and then to stop, because it’s too much. Begging him for more and less, the push and pull of it all. Joel smirks against your cunt, proud of the delirium he’s brought you to using just his mouth. His grip is still ironclad despite all of your grinding and wriggling, trying to right yourself like an insect on its back. He listens intently to your body and all the different noises you’re making, broken moans and those sticky, obscene sounds of your cunt being sucked and licked and lapped. When your thighs begin to twitch, your breaths become sharp and unsteady with your impending release, he doubles down on his efforts until you’re coming all over him, soaking him wet. 

You’re a mess of hazy thoughts, barely aware as he’s pulling your hips back, pushing your chest down. With one hand, he rubs soothing circles on your lower back as he holds the other in front of his face and spits into it before wrapping his palm around his cock, throbbing and angry. He pumps himself a couple of times, the leaking tip rubbing against your ass. When he’s ready, he reaches for your neck with the hand previously rubbing your backside and forces you up. He bites your ear first, then fits the head of his cock into your entrance. 

Joel offers no warning before burying himself into you inch by inch, splitting you in two. You whine as he fills you up, stretches and hurts you so nicely, he bites you harder the deeper he pushes into you. He doesn’t take time to let you get used to the ache, he knows you’ve come to love the pain he gives to you, because that’s what he’s made you do. Joel pulls out of you all the way and pushes himself right back in, harder and faster than before. “Know it hurts,” he says with your earlobe between his teeth, “But you gotta take all of it.”

Joel fucks you quickly at first, having already found the right pace and the right angle to make you squirm in pleasure. He wraps his arm around your torso and nudges your head to the side so he can bite into your neck again. You’re flush against his torso. He fucks you steadily - in, out, in, out. You keen into the sensation, losing yourself in it all - he’s hot and clammy behind you, his tuft of unruly pubic hair rubbing against you. You reach behind yourself and touch the side of Joel’s face where his graying curls are muttered against his skin, dampened with his sweat. Joel turns his head and bites into the fleshy part of your thumb. He’s a mess of curses and praises, telling you what a good girl you are between heavy breaths and sharp inhales, whispering fuck and Christ, sweetheart. 

Without a warning, he pulls out of you and falls back on the couch, grabs you roughly by your arm and sits you on top of him. You’re face to face with him now, staring into his dark, hungry eyes as he pulls you down on his cock, fucking you apart. He eyes you up and down, and then his lips curl into a crooked smile. “Look at you,” he whispers, tilting your head down to look at your body. “You’re all marked up, sweetheart. What a goddamn mess. Tried to tell ya this wasn’t a nice game.” 

He’s right. You look down to see your breasts covered in bites and dark bruises, the marks dotting your torso in the dim light. Some are swollen and angry, others not quite so. You see a bruise on your shoulder and think about what you can’t see, the bites on your neck and collarbones. “Let’s count ‘em together,” he purrs in a low tone. He fucks up into you, “One,” he grunts, “Two, three. Four. Jesus, sweetheart, you’re fuckin’ covered. But I ain’t done with you yet.”

Joel pulls you close to him, your chest against his as he thrusts into you. He brings his teeth to that place where your shoulder meets your neck and bites hard, harder than he has before. It hurts, truly fucking hurts and you cry out loudly, a choked sob escaping your throat. He’s broken skin. “Quit squirmin’, be still f’me. Breathe through it,” he instructs, finally tasting your coppery blood on his tongue. With each thrust he moans against you and his teeth sink deeper and deeper, but it feels worse than it is. You won’t scar, but he’ll be lucky if you do. “You’re doin’ so good. Know it’s a lot, I know. I know…”

He licks over the damage and brings his thumb to your clit as he does, pushing you back to examine your face. He wipes away the tears he expected you’d cry as he paints tight, steady circles into your clit, knowing it won’t be hard to bring you to the edge. He reaches up, pulls you close to his face and kisses you gently, tangling his tongue with your own in a way that makes you dizzy. “I gotcha,” he says, “Come for me.” 

You’re right fucking there, aching for release as he rounds your clit with his thumb and rolls his hips into yours. Your breaths are shallow, your moans are broken and you’re squirming - so fucking close. Joel seems to know just what you need: he sinks his teeth into your plump, swollen bottom lip as he works you with those tight, steadied circles, all the while he fucks you deeply. And then you’re there, and god is it intense, the pleasure and pain. You taste your own blood as you come, breaking into pieces in Joel’s arms as powerful waves pleasure wash over you, rough and unrelenting like the sea during a storm.

Joel comes undone with you, loudly, with grunts and groans and other noises of pleasure. With wild thrusts, he paints your insides with his hot come before he slows to a still. You climb off of him and his come spills out of you and onto the old upholstery of the couch. Joel’s breathing heavily next to you, and when he catches his breath he looks at you with relaxed eyes, eyes that go wide when he looks at what he’s done to you. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pulling his shirt from under you and wetting it with water from his canteen. You catch your reflection in the mirror and see some of the bruises and bites he’s left on you, then you look down at the rest of your body. This time, with the light in front of you, you can see it all. Marks on your wrists, your arms, your chest and your hips and your thighs. You smile. He’s added so much color to you, his very own temporary tattoos. “I don’t know what came over me,” he says. He dabs the wet shirt over your bloodied lips and then your neck, his big dark eyes full of worry as he holds one of your hands. He rests it loosely on top of yours, sort of like that game from before. He doesn’t notice you begin to wriggle yours from beneath his. “Gotta get back and clean you up, bandage you and–”

SMACK. You hit his hand, hard. Joel looks flummoxed. 

“Got you.”

When he realizes the game you’re playing, he rolls his eyes and smiles. “Nice one, smartass.” Joel lifts the shirt and examines the bite on your neck a little closer. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you too bad?”

You shake your head no. “I got you,” you repeat, smirking.

“Yeah, whatever. You got me.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog <3 i would appreciate an ask too, just tell me something good <3

[onlyhaos]

🧴 · yapper!reader x husband!Vernon , fluff

Your husband loves hearing you talk about literally anything, especially when it’s evening’s self care time

“Baby, hold still, I can’t apply the mask if you move”

You said, as you put on the face cream with a small spatula, your fingertips resting under your boyfriend’s chin.

“Sorry” Vernon mumbled tight-lipped, holding back a smile.

“Do you want to tell me about your day? You forgot to do so today” He spoke in a whisper, trying to not move his mouth as much as possible.

You smiled at his attempt to stay still, still straddling his lap as you scooped up more cream.

“Today was pretty boring, just like usual. Though my co-worker made me work overtime, as you might’ve noticed, since she forgot to do an important thing in the project that we’re working on right now. But it was okay since you were also occupied with work and weren’t alone at home. Oh- and also..”

And there you went, talking about everything that came to your mind right now.

Whether it was about that show you wanted to watch, the pretty purse you saw on your way home or the food you’d crave for tomorrow evening. Vernon always listened to what you had to say.

He never minded the way you talked about your interest or whatever you wanted to say.

And he’s thankful for you being so talkative, otherwise he would’ve never met you and would never be married to you like in this lifetime.

While he worked as a barista, he’d never seen you in the shop before. What he didn’t know, though, was that you had always peeked through the glass of the cafe when you’d walk by.

Until your friend finally dared you to go inside and talk to him you would’ve never thought you’d step foot into this comfortable and small-spaced cafe.

“And what’s the order?” The kind boy asked, and oh was his voice pretty.

A small gulp and you got over it “A normal latte, please” You answered, taking in the way his pretty eyes looked into yours.

Nodding, he placed the order. “Alright, what is your name? Today’s pretty packed, so I can easily call you over” Liar. Yes the cafe was filled with more customers than usual, but it wasn’t that packed that he had to take names.

“Y/n,” you answered with a warm smile, staying quiet. But as he wrote down your name, you couldn’t stop the words that flowed over your tongue.

“Would you also like my number?” Your eyes widening at your own sentence. You really dared to do it now.

Looking at the boys’ face, you couldn’t tell what his thoughts were. Scared that he might decline, you tried to calm yourself by saying all he can say is no.

But that doubt was quickly replaced by his gentle smile. “Sure, but maybe after I placed the other customers orders, is that okay?” He asked politely.

You quickly paid for your latte, watching as the other customers placed their order one by one. Thank god it was Saturday, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to wait those unbearable 10 minutes.

“Alright, I think I’ll allow myself a small break by letting you give me your number, since I made you wait now” The brown eyed man spoke, introducing himself as Vernon.

Getting ready to leave the cafe, his voice suddenly called out to you. “Y/n, your latte” He chuckled. Wow, his chuckle was even prettier than his warm smile.. no both of those were equally pretty.

Before getting lost in your thoughts, you immediately smiled back, letting out a small awkward smile.

“Right, sorry” Grabbing your coffee you made, or tried to, make your way out of the cafe, but now holding your latte that the cute guy made you in your hand you began talking to him.

Not that he minded, and his co-worker Seungkwan also didn’t. Well, he bickered a bit since he had to take over, but it wasn’t as bad since he knew his friend might finally get a damn love-life.

“Love, you’re telling the story like I wasn’t the guy you asked for his number” Vernon, or different, your husband said as he was now putting the cream mask onto your face.

“It’s such a cute story though, I can’t wait to tell our kids one day.” You said, slightly tired but still giggling.

Both of you, with your face masks on, continued talking in the embrace of your warm bedsheets.

It finally got more quiet as tiredness started seeping into every cell of your body, moving your exhausted body to the bathroom and finally peeling off the face masks it was time to put out the lights of your nightstands.

With a small sigh leaving your mouth, followed by Vernon’s small sigh, your eyes fell shut.

“I’ll always appreciate and be thankful for your love for me, my favorite” You whispered, sure that Vernon was already is dreamland.

So when you finally drifted off to sleep, you didn’t register the quiet response from your husband.

“It’s the least I’ll ever be able to do for you, my pretty” the familiar warm smile following as he, too, drifted off to sleep.

— ౨ৎ

I actually didn’t think it’d end up this long and definitely didn’t plan to tell how they met but I’m pretty proud of this one. Also it’s not proofread, it’s 11:20 pm and I’m deadly tired now😭😭 Much love, and I’m hoping you’ll enjoy this fic and much as I enjoyed writing it for you💓💓

[justagalwhowrites]

Just to be Sure

Your husband Joel is desperate to get you pregnant again.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Breeding kink smut. Joel really really REALLY wants to knock you up. Lots of pregnancy talk. Reader has given birth before and is at the age where she can give birth again so choose your own adventure for age gap but I picture them about the same age with Joel late 30s. Husband!Joel. No outbreak AU. Creampie. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 1k

A/N: Forgive me for this. I am completely baked and couldn’t shake the thought of Joel having an insane breeding kink. I think if there was no outbreak and Joel found a woman, he’d be DESPERATE to knock her up over and over. He is all about his family, wants so many kids to look after, he’s always begging her for just one more. This is that Joel. He’s filthy. I love him. Also I wrote this in an hour and a half while on an edible and barely proofread it fuck if we ball also sorry I wrote it half on my phone in bed OK BYE LOVE YOU!

“Fuck, Joel…”

Your voice trailed off, weak and breathless, your hands grasping uselessly at the sheets around you.

You weren’t sure how long he’d had you here like this, sweating and fucked out as your husband slowly worked his cock in and out of you. You just knew you had to be quiet, that your one year old was asleep just a room away, a feat that was damn near impossible as Joel pulled yet another orgasm out of you.

“What, baby?” He panted over you, one hand gripping the headboard as he buried himself inside you yet again.

“You…” You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus. “You don’t have to get me pregnant to..to…tonight, you know…”

“Oh I know,” he said, his voice heavy with need and scratchy with exertion. “Wouldn’t mind tryin’ with you for a few months, fucking this pretty pussy full of me every damn night, comin’ so deep in you that you’ve got part of me in you all day every day.”

“Joel,” you whimpered, you couldn’t help it, your pussy drawing tight and hot around him.

“But, see, I’m not sure I can wait that long,” he said, pressing somehow deeper into you and holding himself there for a moment, making your cunt clench around him, your legs scrambling for purchase as your next orgasm built higher and higher. “Need to put another baby in you now, need to see your belly grow, need to fuck you until you’ve got part of me in you for damn near a year.”

“Oh fuck!”

You moaned it louder than you should have, Joel’s large hand going from propping him up to clamped over your mouth as your orgasm took you, the heat of it shooting out from your core and through your entire being, your heart racing, channel throbbing.

“Oh goddamn,” he groaned, fucking into you even harder now. “That’s right little mama, pull another baby out me, that’s it…”

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you panted over and over again into his hand, mind reduced to nothing but your husband and how damn full he made you feel, especially with his bare cock buried deep inside of you.

It had been a year almost to the day that you’d last fucked without a condom. You’d been right at the end of your pregnancy, desperate for Joel and desperate for something - anything - to kick start your labor. The last time you hadn’t needed a condom, your contractions started 20 minutes after it ended.

Ever since, you’d been taking precautions. Not because you didn’t want another baby - you definitely did - but because you hadn’t gotten the OK from your doctor yet.

Today, that had changed. You’d gone to your check up and your doctor gave you a clean bill of health, including the OK to start trying to get pregnant again.

You’d figured Joel would want to get started trying that night. You just hadn’t counted on him pulling endless orgasms as a part of trying.

“Think you got one more in you, baby?” He asked, freeing your mouth to run his hand over your hair. You just whimpered. “M’close, wanna come with you. Come on, you can give me one more, know you can.”

You couldn’t find the words as he moved to suck your neck, so you just moaned and nodded and clawed his body closer and tighter to yours.

You could feel him smile against you then, the pace of his pounding cock picking up, the tip of him hitting the spot inside you he’d long ago claimed as his own perfectly with each stroke.

“Come on little mama,” he panted. “Takes better if you come with me, need you to fucking come baby, need to feel you fucking come when I make you pregnant.”

You weren’t sure Joel was fully aware of what he was saying but then, you felt like you were moving of your own accord, too, your hips rolling up against his, frantically pawing at him in a desperate attempt to pull him so close that it was like his whole being was inside you.

This orgasm claimed you quickly, going from starting to build to taking over you in a matter of seconds. You barely had a chance to warn Joel before it hit you.

"I'm gonna come," you managed just half a second before your channel started to fluffer around him. "Fuck, I'm coming! I'm coming!"

"Fuck, that's it," he said fucking into you with two more deep, devastating strokes before you could feel his cock throbbing heavily inside, the warm spread of his spend in your most intimate place drawing your orgasm out. "That's it, fuck, come while I put my baby in you."

His cock gave one final, heavy pulse before he collapsed on you, panting for breath as you went limp below him. Even as he lay there, damn near exhausted, he still managed to fuck his cock into you a few more times, driving his come even deeper.

When he was satisfied, he sat up from you and watched between your legs as he slowly, gently pulled his softening length from your aching, swollen sex.

“So damn pretty like this,” he said almost reverently. You felt the comforting warmth of his come drip out of you and then Joel’s finger was there, scooping it up and gently pushing it back inside your spent hole as it struggled to close after being opened by his thick cock for so long. “Gotta keep me deep inside her baby, s’where I belong.”

You just whimpered a little, still not positive you could form words as Joel lay beside you, his hand skimming slowly over your stomach down to the place that had grown your first daughter with Joel.

“Think our baby’s in there?” He asked softly, thumb brushing your skin in a gentle rhythm.

“I hope so,” you smiled at him.

“Don’t sound like you’re sure,” he smirked a little back. “Might just need to leave more of me in you, just to be sure.”

Your smile grew as his hand slipped lower.

“Just to be sure.”