#testing different lemonades

[ghostydrawsstuff]

I thought as a fun little experiment to keep myself entertained and learn something, I would try out some lemonade flavors I've never tried before!

Todays victim, orange + passionfruit

This is the one I bought and tried ↑

It is really good! I like it very much, it's very fruity and especially refreshing with ice cubes. I think the passionfruit is the flavor I noticed the most, but the orange makes it very good too.

This is fun, I'm not actually doing this daily, I can't drink that much lemonade XD

[mcflymemes]

PORTAL 2 PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the 2011 video game, adjust as necessary

when life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade! make life take the lemons back! get mad! i don't want your damn lemons!

best case scenario, you might get some superpowers. worst case, some tumors.

science isn't about why. it's about why not.

the next test is very dangerous.

before the wright brothers invented the airplane, anyone wanting to fly everywhere was required to eat 200 pounds of helium.

to help you remain tranquil in the face of almost certain death, smooth jazz will be deployed in three... two... one.

please disregard any undeserved compliments.

all right, i've been thinking.

what am i supposed to do with these?

do you know who i am?

oh, i like this guy.

he says what we're all thinking.

you can head on back to your desk.

well, this is the part where he kills us.

hello. this is the part where i kill you.

i know you.

no! i'm not listening! i'm not listening!

you're lying!

you're not just a regular moron. you were designed to be a moron.

i am not! a moron!

now who's a moron?

could a moron do that?

i can't see it though. maybe it fell off.

do you want to go and have a quick look?

are you alive? that's important. should have asked that first.

i'm going to work on the assumption that you're still alive.

i'm just going to wait for you up ahead.

i'll wait one hour.

brilliant! go team!

i think we can put our differences behind us.

hi. so. how are you holding up?

good, that's still working.

here are the test results.

you are a horrible person.

i'm serious. that's what it says.

we weren't even testing for that.

don't be alarmed, all right?

good work getting this far.

i wish i could take it all back. i honestly do.

i'm in space.

if i were ever to see her again, do you know what i'd say? i'd say "i'm sorry." sincerely.

i am sorry. i was bossy and monstrous... and i'm genuinely sorry.

you made it through! well done!

okay, follow me. we've still got work to do.

what's happening?

okay... don't move.

so i've got an idea, but it is bloody dangerous. here we go.

they told me that if i ever turned this flashlight on, i would die.

they told me that about everything.

i don't even know why they bother giving me this stuff if they didn't want me to use it.

look at you, soaring through the air like an eagle.

i'm different!

prometheus was punished by the gods for giving the gift of knowledge to man. he was cast to the bowels of the earth and pecked by birds.

it won't be enough. the answer lies beneath us.

oh, it's dark down here, isn't it?

i'm proud of you.

now we are a family again.

that last test was seriously disappointing.

just work with me.

some of my best friends are actually orphans.

you look ugly in that jumpsuit.

that's not my opinion.

i'll be honest. we're throwing science at the wall here to see what sticks.

no idea what it'll do.

i knew someone was alive in here!

you'll know when the test starts.

oh thank god you're all right.

i thought you were my greatest enemy, when all along you were my best friend.

the best solution to a problem is usually the easiest one.

i'll be honest. killing you? is hard.

i had a pretty good life. and then you showed up.

you know what? you win. just go.

it's been fun. don't come back.

this sentence is false.

to be honest, i might have heard that one before.

you know, i'm not stupid.

i realize you don't want to put me back in charge.

i'm being serious. i think there's something really wrong with me.

we should get our stories straight.

no, we're not stopping!

don't make eye contact, whatever you do.

i feel awful about that surprise.

oh, that's sad. but impressive.

we're running out of time.

you've probably figured it out by now, but i don't need you anymore.

i'm afraid you're about to become the immediate past president of the being alive club.

the square root of rope is string.

okay, what you're doing there is jumping.

you know what? that's close enough.

you saved my bacon.

is this a jailbreak?

the next test is very dangerous.

it's been a long time. how have you been?

i've been really busy being dead. you know, after you murdered me.

you out having yourself a little adventure?

no, don't get up. i'll be right back.

you're unqualified!

what if this hurts? what if it really hurts? oh, i didn't think about that.

get your hands off me!

i can't see a thing! what just happened?

i don't have any bullets.

did you feel that?

you were busy back there.

that's funny. i don't feel corrupt.

i've got an idea! do what it says!

look how small you are down there!

do you have any idea how good this feels?

sorry, fellas. she's married. to science.

let me answer those questions with a question. who wants to make sixty dollars?

yes, all right, okay, this is getting tiresome.

well done. good. aren't you little miss clever. little miss smashy smash.

does it actually make you feel good when you do that?

it's not impressive.

what is this, like a hobby for you now?

i'm beginning to actually take it personally.

it's like an insult to me.

oh, there goes another one.

it's vandalism! it's pure vandalism!

it's just us talking like regular people.

are you going to open this door?

where'd you go? come back!

[sofiascripts]

striking a chord!

quirkless band au w/ lemonade mouth elements! (ongoing)

bakugou x reader!

in their final year of high school, six unlikely friends—jirou, Kaminari, bakugou, momo, shinsou, and the y/n—find themselves in detention for various reasons. there, they discover an unexpected musical chemistry and decide to form a band, each driven by different motivations but united by one goal: to outshine the popular neito monoma.

as they navigate internal conflicts and the pressures of competition, their commitment to the band is put to the test. the relationship between y/n and bakugou deepens, marked by tension and miscommunications that both strengthen their bond and create new challenges.

their journey leads to a high-stakes contest hosted by the renowned producer present mic, pushing their musical talents and personal dynamics to the limit. as they uncover hidden truths and grapple with their evolving feelings, the group must confront their true priorities. will they achieve success and harmony, or will their ambitions and relationships unravel in the final showdown?

(0) meet the band

(1) detentions secret soundtrack

(3) coming tonight! xoxo OK TONIGHT FR (8/22)

let me cook...

ill try and pump out a chapter every other day since its the summer!

warnings: swearing, characters may be ooc (especially at the start </3), reader uses she/her pronouns

msg to be added to the tagslist!

a/n: very very new to the uploading on tumblr scene, ive always just been a reader so im sorry if this is disorganized! pretty sure i was supposed to upload this before i started posting chapters... im still trying to figure out the ropes here </3

[420days]

Chapter 2

masterlist

"Come on momma. We're gonna get you and my nephew something to eat." Sabrina rubbed her best friend's stomach as they walked out the doctors office.

Kaliyah walked behind her friend slowly feeling sad as ever. Considering she found out she was having a baby boy you'd think she would be happy but she was feeling the exact opposite.

Just three months ago she found out she was two months pregnant with her baby and it felt so unreal.

From the moment she found out she was pregnant she was filled with nothing but mixed emotions.

She even contemplated getting an abortion and showed up to the appointment but at the last minute she couldn't bring herself to do it. The thought of having an abortion was more to burry her feelings about Jey rather than her not wanting a baby.

She wanted to keep her baby and that's what she decided to do.

"What do you want to eat?"

"I'm not hungry. I just wanna go home." Kaliyah told her as she put her seatbelt on and turned towards the window.

"I know you're upset but you can't starve my nephew. What does he want? A deluxe combo and a lemonade?" She teased.

Rolling her eyes Kaliyah broke into a small smile. The sound of food made her happy no matter what.

These days all her son craved was Chick Fil A which was weird to her because she didn't care for it too much before she got pregnant

"Whatever, just give my son some food."

It didn't take them long to get their food considering how great Chick Fil A's customer service was. The food didn't stand a chance and was gone before she even got home.

"Call me tomorrow and stop being so sad!" Sabrina yelled as Kaliyah walked to the door and took her keys out.

"Bye Sabrina!" She stuck up the middle finger.

When she got in the house she stepped out of the clothes she was wearing and hopped in the shower.

She was exhausted because all day Sabrina drove her around making her run errands with her in order to get her out the house. While she appreciated her friends effort all she wanted to do was stay in the house until the baby got here.

As she brushed her hair into a ponytail her phone vibrated with a message from a familiar number.

Picking up her phone she read over the message before responding.

Maybe (Jey 💗): What u want?

I need to tell something important. Can I call you?

Maybe(Jey 💗): Nah, you can text me what you want before I change my mind about unblocking you

I'm pregnant

Maybe(Jey 💗): ????

Maybe(Jey 💗): So what you tryna say it's mine?

Please don't do that. You know it's yours.

Maybe (Jey 💗): I don't know nothing. Ima need a test before you put anything on me.

Nevermind, forget I even brought it up. You can just block me again.

I don't know why I even wasted my time with you.

My and my baby will be fine.

Maybe(Jey 💗): Calm down, how I know you're not fucking with me?

Why would I be wasting my time? You made it clear you don't fucking like me. I'm putting my feelings and pride aside to reach out to you so my son can have a father in his life but really just forget it.

Maybe(Jey 💗): Son?

She read over her last message and decided to just leave it alone. She was over going back and for with him. If he didn't believe her than that's what it is.

Shaking her head she turned her phone off and prepared herself for some much needed sleep.

-

On the other side of town. Jey sat in his car, smoking a unt to calm his nerves. Ever since Kaliyah told him she was pregnant his mind was all over the place. He wasn't ready to be a father but if it was his baby he wouldn't have a choice but to step up to his responsibilities.

Especially when it comes to having a son. Every kid needed their father but with a son it was just different. There were so many things he learned from his father and it was only right to pass that down to his son.

Staring down at his down he went to his message thread to see if he had any message from Kaliyah but there was nothing. The messages he attempted to her send her weren't delivering and it was pissing him off.

"I know her ass ain't block me." He mumbled to himself as he put the blunt out and turned on his car.

After turning a 30 minutes drive into a 15 minute drive he arrived at Kaliyahs house. He knew from her car out front that she was home and that annoyed him even more.

Parking his car behind hers he got out the car and knocked on her door as hard as he could.A few moments later she found these her coming the stairs and yanked the front door open.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Banging on my door like that?" She yelled at him but he was too mesmerized by her large stomach peaking from her tank top and her small pajama shorts.

"Hello!" She snapped her finger in his face making him look up at her. Her pregnancy has her looking different and he liked it. Every part of her body filled out, her hair was longer and she carried a nice glow on her face.

"Can you stop yelling? I ain't come over here for that." He sucked his teeth once he snapped back into reality.

"What do you want?"

"Let's go inside."

"No, you're coming in my house. And I just lit some sage earlier, tuh.” She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah? Did your skin start burning?" He said smartly making her squint her eyes at him.

"What the fuck ever. If there's nothing you want you can leave my home." She waved him off.

"Listen, I'm trying to fix this shit. Can we go inside and talk?" He asked her.

"We can sit in your car."

"I just smoked in there. Y'all don't need to be around that." He told her and she nodded knowing it wasn't good for the baby.

Stepping back from the door she let him inside of the house and made her way into the living room.

“That's my baby?" He asked her after they sat in slings for a moment.

"Yes, I really don't know why you keep asking me that. If you want a test pay for it when the baby gets here or don't. I really don't care at this point."

“ I can't ask? I haven't seen you in five months I don't know what you be doing Kay."

"Whose fault is that? I didn't break your heart and block you on everything." She rolled her eyes.

"Why you keep saying I broke your heart? I was honest with you from the start."

"You just don't get it." She shook her head.

"I really don't so tell me."

"You said you wanted to have sex. And that's what we did but then we started texting all day, falling asleep on the phone, going out together and then you go me pregnant. The whole time we're doing things that's more than just fucking and it meant nothing to you. Like it literally meant nothing and that's fine. I hurt my own feelings thinking that those things actually meant something so I can't be mad at you." She wiped her face.

"I never meant to break your heart. You're a good person for real and I took a liking to you but I'm really not ready for all that. I don't wanna be tied down in a relationship and that's why I distanced myself from you. I knew you started feeling a way and that's not what I intended." He said honestly, breaking her heart all over again.

"That's cool, let's just take care of our baby." She told him.

"I can do that."

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄ ⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄ ⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

tags: @bebesobrielo @trentybenty @amandairene88 @kiki1704 @paigereeder @uceyliyahh @skyesthebomb @cyberdejos2 @chloeijuana @tian-monique

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄ ⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄ ⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

[brittle-doughie]

I’d like to imagine that y/n is involved in all the adventures going on in kingdom, and considering the previous update, I’d like to see y/n casually dropping that they fought a dragon like it’s normal to their new rockstar friends and them getting instantly worried

bonus if y/n brings snapdragon cookies as proof

[Be you, hanging with Black Lemonade and Bassist Cookie one time, jamming to her tunes when she taps your shoulder.]

Black Lemonade: You know, Y/N Cookie, I’ve heard a lot of talk about you and this Cookie Kingdom you’ve got going on.

Bassist Cookie: Aw yeah! Cookies from many of our gigs have brought you up here and there, quite the big deal.

Y/N Cookie: Well, when you’ve been through and been to places as much as I have, you aren’t really easy to be forgotten about in the eyes of many.

Black Lemonade: What exactly did you do for it to be like this?

Y/N Cookie: Oh boy, it’s a LONG story. Where to begin…

———————————————————————————————————————

Y/N Cookie: Where are you taking me!? You just upped and grabbed my arm out of nowhere!

Strawberry Crepe Cookie: Calm down, I’m just borrowing you for a second! I can tell you’re different from those other cookies? I just need a further analysis on you!

Chili Pepper Cookie: Get back here with Y/N Cookie, you little!

Gingerbrave: You let go of Y/N Cookie right now!

Strawberry Crepe Cookie: Ugh, so annoying. I’ll give them back when I’m done, promise!

Y/N Cookie: I could just slip away right now…

(Strawberry Crepe Cookie suddenly grabbed you with their large crepe arms!)

Strawberry Crepe Cookie: Not happening, I didn’t even get to have some time with you because of these…basics!

Healer Cookie: Hang on tight, Y/N Cookie! We will do our best to rescue you!

Y/N Cookie: Strawberry Crepe, we can talk about this. Just put me down and we can-

Strawberry Crepe Cookie: I needed to run field tests on these arms anyway, I’d rather they stop functioning all together before I hand you over.

Y/N Cookie: WHAT-

———————————————————————————————————————

Clotted Cream Cookie: Are you ready, Y/N Cookie?

Y/N Cookie: I made sure to pack everything I needed, I am missing some clothes, but I can manage without them.

Clotted Cream Cookie: Good, it won’t be a long stay, so there’s no need for worry.

Financier Cookie: The airship is ready to take flight, Consul.

Clotted Cream Cookie: Shall we, Y/N Cookie?

Y/N Cookie: There’s actually one tiny problem left.

Clotted Cream Cookie: Oh! What would that be?

(Y/N Cookie points to their legs, showing that Pure Vanilla, Hollyberry, and Dark Cacao are holding onto them tight.)

Clotted Cream Cookie: I think I see the problem here…

———————————————————————————————————————

Moonlight Cookie: Ah, no more! Your words hurt like the terror of nightmares. Y/N Cookie, stay close to me.

Y/N Cookie: Moonlight Cookie is right, Stardust Cookie! The Wizards meant no malicious intent, you’re not a failure!

Stardust Cookie: You look particularly fond of this cookie, Moonlight Cookie…what is it about them that you cherish? What is it about them that washes away your sorrow…?

(Moonlight moves more in front of you to block Stardust’s line of sight, Stardust’s attention on you has made her on edge.)

Stardust Cookie: Move aside, Moonlight Cookie. I wish to see them, to see what makes you hold them dear.

Moonlight Cookie: N-no, please. It would bring me pain to see them hurt.

Stardust Cookie: I will not bring them harm, I just want to get a look at them closely. Y/N Cookie, was it? Step forth.

Moonlight Cookie: They do not wish to, please understand-

Stardust Cookie: Allow them to make their own decision, you cannot speak for them.

Y/N Cookie: Leave her be, I’ll do it.

(Moonlight clutched you close in her arms)

Moonlight Cookie: Y/N Cookie..no….

———————————————————————————————————————

Hollyberry Cookie: There they are!

Tarte Tatin Cookie: Y/N Cookie!

(There, sheltering in the cave, was you. You held your stomach as jam was stained on your head as you held it. Your sword laid next to you, claw marks littering the blade. Your breathing was heavy. Hollyberry was FREAKING OUT.)

Hollyberry Cookie: Y/N Cookie please! It’s alright, I’ve got you. Tell me you aren’t hurt badly!

Y/N Cookie: Still breathing and-WHOA! Hey, come on now, Holly! I can’t exactly do that now that you’re squeezing me tightly again!

Hollyberry Cookie: Haha! It’s just that I’m really happy to see you alive! You had no idea how horrified I was when the Red Dragon carried you away! Pitaya Dr-Pitaya Cookie is still fuming from that!

Pitaya Cookie: Your dough! It’s all scratched up! Grrr, that imposter will pay for this….

Tarte Tatin Cookie: You are incredibly lucky to have escape the dragon’s grasp…

Snapdragon: (worried babbling as they went to your side)

Royal Margarine: What do we do know? The Red Dragon will surely come back!

Y/N Cookie: I can still fight, we can still make it to-ARGH!

Hollyberry Cookie: I can’t let that happen, Y/N Cookie. I can carry you the rest of the way, but you’re not drawing your blade again.

Y/N Cookie: Don’t worry about me, the others are hurt too..

Tarte Tatin: Eeugh! I’ll be alright, Y/N Cookie.

Y/N Cookie: Liar…

———————————————————————————————————————

Black Lemonade: ….

Bassist Cookie: Woah….gnarly.

Black Lemonade: Are..are you being serious, Y/N Cookie? A dragon? You fought a dragon?! Are you alright?!

Bassist Cookie: Yeah, are you all good, man? No lasting injuries or…

Y/N Cookie: Outside of burnt dough, several broken ribs, head injuries, and multiple therapy sessions, I’d say I got out of that situation pretty fine.

Black Lemonade: With what you’ve told me, you really are quite a big deal at your place. I’m..actually kind of flattered now since you’re a fan of mine.

Y/N Cookie: Oh yeah, totally. I’m hoping to make Snapdragon Cookie one too.

Black Lemonade/Bassist Cookie: Snapdragon Cookie?

(Cue Snapdragon Cookie suddenly popping out from behind you)

Snapdragon Cookie: Kyaaha!

Black Lemonade/Bassist Cookie: WHAAAAAAAAT?!

Snapdragon Cookie: Buubuu!

[y3ager]

WE OUTSIDE.

— a night you initially weren’t looking forward to ends in the best way imaginable.

eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: high school au, modern au, marijuana and alcohol use, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), mild cream pie. minors dni.

DESPITE HOW YOU refused it for months, here you stand in a mansion someone had the money and connections to reserve holding the worst position anyone can have on graduation night: designated driver.

you’re the coveted mom friend, the only one in the group with a level enough head and fear of, you know, dying to make sure you and your girls don’t end up on the morning news the following day. after weeks of promising that they wouldn’t be back home after walking across stage, here they all are enjoying one last night of partying before they all go their separate ways, to different universities and states, some of them never seeing each other again.

obviously you’re not one to knock someone else’s fun, but it’s just not your thing and you knew that with the first party you snuck out to. it’s loud, crowded, and smacking the ass of your friend or fighting your way to the front for a good view of it is only fun for the first 20 or so minutes. it’s three am and no one shows signs of stopping.

you nurse your cocktail of lemonade with a dash of pink whitney because it helps to have something in your hand. you stay off towards the back and hug the wall, watching your peers have fun and dreading when you inevitably have to shove 7 shitfaced girls into one car. three are horny drunks, one does nothing but cry by the end of the night, one more tends to get punchy…

you feel a solid body bump against yours and lurch forward a bit. “sorry!” you shout, but with the bass of the music and everyone’s yelling, they probably don’t even hear you.

“no, you’re fine..” all of a sudden you smell nothing but weed, enough to make your nose wrinkle a bit. he brandishes his blunt to you, obviously inviting you take a hit. that’s what all these parties are, people swapping blunts and taking sips out of bottles and repurposed polar pop cups.

“no, um, i’m good..” your better judgement starts to kick in, even though you’re probably the only person in the entire house using some right about now. it could be filled with god knows what, what if your job springs up a surprise drug test, you’re not supposed to take anything from a damn stranger!

a little voice in the very back of your head reminds you that this is your problem: playing it safe, keeping your head down, abstaining from doing anything even mildly reckless.

you reach your hand up and pluck the glowing blunt from the strange boy’s slender fingers and pop it between your glossed lips. a quick toke fills your lungs, streams out from your nose and makes you give out a quick cough. “thank you,” you say dumbly, honestly, as you pass it back to him. who the fuck says thank you after that? “sorry for the, uh.. gloss.”

“you’re fine,” he says again, popping the joint right back into his mouth, coconut flavored gloss from the beauty supply store be damned. you finally get a chance to really look at him, the flashing strobe lights momentarily illuminating his face. tanned skin, green eyes tinted just a smidge red, and dark brown hair pulled back into a bun, a light sheen of sweat making the baby hairs stick to his forehead. he nods to your cup. “what’s that?”

“that.. oh! oh.” you look down at your cup, suddenly feeling awkward for staring so intently. “lemonade with.. uh.. pink whitney.” you realize how close he is to you, nudged forward by the many bodies and his interest in what you’re saying, and it makes you sweat. “do you want some?” looking back up, you hold the cup out to him. “it’s not that strong, i have to drive later…”

he shakes his head and chuckles lowly, pushing the drink back into your bubble. “keep it.” he looks down at you, taking in your brown eyes framed by your freshly done lash extensions, accented with a thin strip of one of your school’s colors, your cropped shirt and skin tight biker shorts, comfortable but exposing a lot of your gleaming brown skin. “designated driver, huh? your friends sound mean dumping you with that job. you having fun?”

you shrug, heating up even more under his hungry gaze. he’s so fine, if you look fast enough, a tongue ring is getting caught by the flashing lights when he opens his mouth to speak. “it’s okay, i don’t like getting shit faced, and, you know…” you look off to your left to see that four of your friends have successfully made it onto the stage. “it’s fun watching them have fun.” when you look back at him, he’s holding his blunt back out, and you take it again without even being told to. “thank you.” you blow out another cloud of smoke and pass it back to him. “it could.. be a little quieter, i guess?” another body passing through makes you lurch forward. “with less people?”

he laughs again and holds his joint between his teeth. “you wanna leave then?”

your inner mom comes back out again, and you look to your left, scanning for your friends. you’re supposed to stick together, you have to keep an eye out on them, they’re all supposed to know where everyone is in case anything crazy pops off. “i.. i shouldn’t leave my friends…” you shuffle unsurely on your feet, “i don’t know.”

“text them,” he offers. then he points off into the general direction when he assumes they’re at, based on where you’re looking. “or go tell one of them. we’re just going up to a room upstairs. they’ll be okay, and you’ll be okay. we’ll come back down when you’re ready.”

fuck it. you think. you whip your phone out of your purse and type up a quick message in the groupchat that they probably won’t check, but at least you told them. ‘going upstairs for a bit’ “okay,” you say as it sends. “let’s go.”

thirty minutes later, the blunt is completely gone and the stranger—no, eren’s tongue is deep in your mouth, working against yours while his hand holds your face firmly in place. your manicured hands have pulled his hair out of its haphazard bun with all your tugging and pulling and you’re doing everything you can to hide your wanton moans. he’s just such a good kisser…

eren pulls away slightly to look down into your glazed over eyes, the sound of your blood rushing and your heart pounding rivaling the sound of the music booming downstairs. “pretty girl,” he mumbles. your kissing has long left your gloss awry, and he rubs an errant mark away from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “feelin’ good?”

“yeah,” you whisper breathlessly, his kiss swollen lips calling you back in and he laughs as your mouth meets his again. either he pushes you down into some stranger’s bed, or you pull him on top of you, but now you’re on your back and he’s looking down at you, with one hand trailing down, down, down…

and you’re doing nothing to stop him.

deftly, eren pulls off your biker shorts, and catches your thigh before you can instinctively close them off from his sight. “so fucking wet already…” he remarks as he pulls your panties down until they eventually fall down to your ankles. you kick them off, and brazenly, boldly, spread your brown lips for him, the white of your long french tip acrylics a beautiful contrast to your chestnut skin and perfect pink center.

“fuck, ___,” eren groans, mouth almost watering at the sight. he wants to devour you so bad. “you’re trying to kill me. you were so shy earlier. that changes when you wanna get fucked, huh?” your whimper at his last comment makes him grin. “now hold these up.” he commands, reference your legs as he pushes your knees up to your chest, prostrating yourself before him for his perusal. he’s laying down now, his aching crotch now rubbing against the bed in a welcome wave of pleasure.

the noises eren begins to make on your pussy are downright pornographic, the spitting, smacking, slurping, feasting on your drooling cunt as if it’s his last meal. his tongue is everywhere, going from swirling your clit around to dragging against your inner lips, that damned tongue ring never far behind. it’s nearly too much for your poor cunt, but the focused glare he gives you with his blown out green eyes deters you from bringing your legs down and diminishing the access he has to you.

“e-eren! oh, god!” the sound of your wetness makes your ears burn in embarrassment, it’s just so fucking messy. you catch a sight of the mess you’ve made on his chin when he momentarily comes up for air, only to dive right back in. his plump, pillowy lips latch firmly on your throbbing clit, making your eyes roll back into your head and a shaky moan escape your own lips. “eren, please..!” you writhe against the sheets, his expert mouth overwhelming, you’re not a virgin but, god, if he keeps up.. “e-eren, eren, i’m…!”

“c’mon, baby,” he mumbles between suckling, open mouthed kisses, and drags of his skillful tongue. “give it t’ me, don’t be scared. i gotcha.”

his words make your greedy hole pulse around nothing, and a mix of a moan and a week sob escapes your throat. thighs spasming, you pointlessly attempt to close your legs again only for him to continue holding them open as he drowns your cunt in sloppy kisses, determined to savor every last drop.

“good girl,” his sinful voice rumbles against your core. “good, good fucking girl…” as he pulls away, that tongue darts out to sweep up the last remnants of your heavenly juices. “c’mere..” those strong hands grab at you hips pulling your pliant body towards him near the edge of the bed. “y’ready?”

“yeah, yeah…” emotions flood through your head, lust, need, want, you’re ready to beg for him inside you if he wants you to. faintly, you hear the sound of clothing hitting the floor, but that’s the least of your worries right now. “‘ren, please..” he taps his leaking, blushing tip against your pulsing clit one, two, three times to make you sigh. “please, please..”

“y’doin’ all that beggin’…” now eren’s easing in, hissing at the feeling of you gripping him so tight, walls soft and wet. he throws his head back at the new sensation of your cunt greedily sucking him in, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and his tanned fingers tightening in a bruising grip on your hips. “fuck,” he groans under his breath, the underlying whine in his voice makes your body grow hot. “fucking- relax, or-”

“oh, g-god..” you stutter, feeling full, and hot, and greedy. “‘s so.. big, eren.” your manicured hand rests against his toned torso in a fruitless attempt to stop him, but his hips meet yours and the two of you whine in unison. “fuck!”

“quit that. take it.” eren swats your hand away from his stomach and tosses your legs up to place them on his shoulders, effectively treating you like a little doll for him to fuck on. slowly, easily, he pulls his hips back only to push them forward again, progressively beginning to get drunk off the feeling of your perfect cunt. “so fucking good,” he mutters. “so, so fucking good.”

the slow drag of his cock against your walls begins to have the same intoxicating effect on you, making you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and whine, low and wanton as you clamp down onto him. you open your eyes, which you didn’t even realize were closed, and stare deep into his green-gray eyes. oh, you’re screwed now.

“fuck yes,” he huffs. eren buries his face in your neck, biting, sucking, leaving hot kisses on your damp as he chases his high and quickly begins to bring to your second. the feeling of your acrylics clawing and digging into the skin of his back only spurs him on more, the music downstairs secondary to the dizzying sound of skin slapping against. “‘s your dick, baby, cum on it for me.”

and you do, shame be damned as your back arches off from the tousled sheets and cry out his name, letting any poor passerby know exactly what’s going on just feet away from the firmly closed door, and exactly who’s fucking you just that good. eren bottoms out with a low groan that reverberates from his chest, a breathless chuckle passing his lips as his cum shoots in deep only to spill back out when he withdraws.

“pretty girl,” he calls out, pulling you out of your fucked out daze. one hand reaches up to wipe the drool from the side of your mouth while the other rubs at your spent, used cunt. your eyes roll back down to look demurely back at his.

“you got another one in you?”

a/n: obligatory plot but this has been in the drafts since january 2022…… it’s time to release her 😭 could i have updated it from high school grad night yeah i could’ve but mannnn…. just relive them days chile

[thankspete]

Swimsuits & Sangria | dob

Word Count: 8.7k Rating: M Summary: All it takes is the hot summer sun and some boozy fruit to turn good friends into a little something more. | Also on Ao3! Warnings: friends to lovers, drunk flirting, mutual pining, SMUT (oral, fingering [F receiving], masturbation, praise kink, orgasm denial, unprotected sex) ⋅ ⋅  ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ 

You knew you loved Dylan when you were sitting at his poolside minibar, all sunglasses and swimsuits, watching him place a tiny umbrella in your drink. It was a Saturday, sometime past four and the heat beating from the sun had you sticky with a combination of SPF and sweat. Guests wouldn’t be arriving for at least another 45 minutes, but Dylan invited you to come early. You’d shown up two hours ago to make your sangria recipe as he requested. It took no longer than fifteen minutes to cut up the apples and citrus, then combine them with sugar and alcohol in a pitcher. It was placed in the fridge, ready to drink, at 3:09 and the party didn’t even begin until 5:30. Knowing your friends, that meant 6:15.

Dylan isn’t an idiot, he must’ve known he invited you far too early, but you didn’t want to feed into your own delusion. You’d met eight months ago in an ill-lit dive bar on trivia night in an unintended merging of yours and Tyler’s friend groups. Your team had managed to claw your way to third place by the end of the tournament, despite you shoo-ing Tyler’s phone away when he tried Googling answers. Dylan sat across from you on the innermost part of the booth, your friend Jade to your right. Two vodka lemonades in and you were struggling not to try to get a better look at his face. Despite the tug you felt to do so, you were terrified to really look at him, terrified that the tips of your ears would get red and your cover would be blown. You pulled the claw out of your hair and let it settle around your shoulders. You didn’t think it would be more than a silly drunk crush, primed by Deep Eddy and the fact you hadn’t gotten laid in weeks. Drunk enough to feel a tug in your abdomen when you watched his hands as he shuffled a deck of cards and dispersed them among you, but not dumb enough to try to do something about it.

The only difference now is that you could look at Dylan without feeling like you were going to fall over. Barely. Pregaming the party certainly wasn’t necessary, your sangria was boozy enough, but taste testing a new cocktail recipe devolved into three and now you’re both giggly and droopy-eyed under the California sun. 

“I think the last one was the best,” he sets the glass down on the counter and pushes it in your direction. You pull the straw to your lips and take a sip.

“Hm.” Another sip. “I don’t know. The amaretto really goes off in this.”

“No, no,” he tuts, reaching for the last glass you shared. “You need a reminder.” He swaps the glass of drink three with drink two in front of you, then takes a swig and makes a face. Maybe amaretto just isn’t the liqueur for him. 

“There’s, like, nothing in this, Dylan.”

“That’s definitely a taste-worth’s amount of liquid.” You look at him in disbelief. “Look, if you’re not gonna drink it I’m gonna go ahead and lick the glass clean. You have five seconds.”

“Shut up.” You take the glass and tilt it over your mouth, with no more than seven drops dripping onto your tongue. 

“So? Definitely better.” He grabs the cup from your hand and replaces it with the drink he dislikes. 

“Definitely good, but I made it so that’s not really news.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. You’re making it for me again soon.” He’s leaning on the bar counter in front of you on his forearms, eyeing the empty glass and seemingly genuinely debating if he should lick it clean.

“Maybe if you ask politely, Dylan.” You stir your drink with the straw before taking a big sip. 

“Sorry, baby.” He grabs your hand and leans closer to your face. “Could you, please, make me that delicious drink again sometime?”

“I could send you the recipe.” You take pleasure in the way his face twists to your response. You can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses.

He squeezes your hand. “No, it’s not the same. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You laugh out loud and push his glasses up to sit behind his hairline. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean.” He takes the glass in front of you and pulls his glasses back onto his face. “Ugh,” he says after taking a drink. “We gotta end on a better note than this. I’m making a tequila sunrise.” He passes the drink back to you.

“You’re gonna let me finish this on my own?”

“Yeah.” He grins, all straight teeth and wide lips, as he pats your arm before leaning down to get a bottle of Espolon from under the counter. 

“Dick,” you grumble as you pick up your drink and stand from the barstool. There was a set of four lounge chairs on the right side of the pool and you settle on the nearest one. On your phone, you connect to the Bluetooth speakers set up behind the bar where Dylan stood. The sound of your phone unexpectedly pairing to the speaker spooks him and you hear the ice tray fall onto the counter.

“You okay over there, butterfingers?” You take your glasses off and look in his direction.

“Yeah. Play something good, will ya?” He throws a broken piece of ice at you and misses. You put Microwave’s Much Love on shuffle, the sound of crunchy guitar blasting from the wall behind him. 

Dylan walks to the chairs, two drinks in hand. You are nearly done with your drink, but happily put it aside to accept a new one. 

“Are you trying to loosen me up right now?” You cock your eyebrow at him when he sits down. “I’m gonna be a whole drink ahead of you by the time I’m done with this.” You keep your eyes steady on his face while you drink. There’s so much grenadine you can’t even taste the tequila. 

“You make it sound like it’s easy.” His voice is even and his lips settle into their neutral position. You wish he would take his sunglasses off. 

“It’s hard? I don’t know about that.”

“Maybe boozing you up isn’t the preferred gameplan,” Dylan says flatly. He lets the words settle between you for a beat. “Let me finish your other drink.” He holds his hand out and you pass him the glass. 

“Thank you.”

You sit in silence together, soaking in the sun and occasionally humming along to the music. There’s no point in dissecting whatever the hell that was, not when Jade had already texted that her, Jenny, Marcus, and Tyler were en route. But… had he done it on purpose? Just a taste, less than a taste, but more than enough to pique the part of your psyche devoted to some of your most private fantasies. Your skin felt hot, but not because of the ninety degree dry heat or the sun, far lower in the sky than when you arrived, but of the perceived intentions of the man to your right. Your sunglasses are back on, but its thin frames don’t hide your side-eye look-over of him. It’s like he was expecting it, the way he immediately turns to look at you, head tilted. You surrender and shift your torso to face him head-on, too tipsy to feel embarrassed about getting caught peeking. Maybe it was delusional, but the tightness in your lower abdomen was as real as the straw dangling from his lips. Your reflection is small in the impenetrable black of his Ray-Bans and you allow yourself to dwell on the idea that he was enjoying a far greedier look at your body than yours at his.

“Were you going to say something?” His words interrupt your train of thought, which had gone entirely off the rails as you struggled to separate your thoughts into what was and was not appropriate to say aloud. He was right, you had turned to him so confidently, but with nothing else for him to work with.

“Can a girl just have a look?”

That seemed to catch him off guard, eyebrows high and mouth ticked into a loose smile. “Are you objectifying me right now?”

You let out a noise of dismissal and grab your cup from the small glass table between you. “You love it. From the right people.” The end of your sentence is punctuated by the sound of air sucking through your straw as you finish your drink.

“You think you’re ‘the right people’?” Dylan licks his lips and finally pulls his glasses up to the crown of his head. His taunt only makes your core beat harder, body entirely uncaring of what was real and was in your imagination. If he was setting up a game, you happily play along–and win.

“I’m pretty certain, Dyl.” You shift your body again to sit up and place your feet flat on the ground. “If it were up to me, I’d be the right person.” You gather the three empty glasses from the table and get up to bring them inside.

You don’t hear him stand to follow, but you see his reflection not too far behind yours in the sliding glass door. You can’t tell if you expected him to follow you back in or if you just hoped for it. Either way, you couldn’t help but be struck with a vision as you step into his home and the kitchen island comes into view: Your chest pressed flush to the cold granite, breasts spilling out of the tiny bikini top you embarrassingly wore just for him today. One foot on the floor while your balance is supported by your knee on a stool, spread and gasping underneath the pressure of his big palms on your hips and his cock slipping in and out through the side of your swim bottoms. You attempt to get to the dishwasher without stumbling, mind hazy from the drinks and the intrusive daydreams. Dylan’s long strides bring him to the counter at the same time as you, reaching around your hip to hold you steady. His other hand opens the dishwasher and pulls out the top tray. You work together to arrange the glasses among existing dishware, awkwardly clinking against one another in an uncoordinated symphony. Despite having an approximately equal number of drinks, he was composing himself much more than you thought you even were capable of right now. Was it risk it all territory? You were unsure. LA traffic was atrocious, but not bad enough you were willing to attempt to make your wish come true. There was no way you’d be able to sneak to the bathroom, even if your little hole was already pulsing and sensitive, clenching around nothing at the sensation of his fingers resting on your side. You could do it fast, you feel like you’re about to blow, but you’re haunted by the fear he’d know. Your eyes might give you away, or maybe the way you talked to him. Even with hands freshly washed, he might smell it, might be so curious as to ask what got you so worked up while you were here, alone together. What level of desperation caused you to slip away just to get off on your own. Fuck, honestly you might even want it. 

He shuts the dishwasher door, hand remaining on your hip. “Thank you for helping.”

You don’t respond to his words, focused on the light pink color spread across his cheeks and nose. “Sunburn?” You ghost your thumb over the area. He raises his eyebrows. You press down on the area, thumb a few centimeters below his eye and fingers framing the side of his face. His hair is thick, but soft against your fingertips. His skin turns from white back to pink as the blood rushes back into the region. “That hurt?”

“No.” The shade of pink deepens slightly. Not a sunburn. 

You stand there playing a game of chicken with one another, trying to read the situation as if his palms weren’t sliding up your waist and you hadn’t removed your hand from his face. You refused to be the one who did it, especially after today. 

The sound of the doorbell causes your hand to fall from his face, but he is unmoved. Dylan presses his lips together as he looks at you, then past you toward the direction of the door. 

“Be good and get the sangria out, okay, angel?” His hands release your sides and he gently shakes your chin before brushing past you to greet your friends. You let out a breath when he’s out the room, dnomi from his proximity to your face. Your task is simple and you get to it. Six small glasses are fished from the cabinet to the left of the fridge and you get the ice tray from the freezer. Two cubes go in each glass and you refill the tray before placing it back in the freezer. You hear everyone before you see them, Jen excitedly chattering about a date last night while Tyler laments about the drive up. Once the six glasses are full, you’re greeted by a hug from Jade as the crowd enters the kitchen. Dylan wordlessly takes the half-empty pitcher from the counter in front of you, unnecessarily reaching around you for it. You savor the moment where his hand rests on your skin, warm and firm against your stomach.

 You and Jade stay behind as the group moves through the room to the backyard, shuffled rock music blasting from the speaker connected to your phone. Once the room is empty, you turn to her in disbelief. “Today was weird. Like, good weird, but weird.”

“I saw… That man did not need to get so close to you to get that pitcher,” she laughs.

“He said… I don’t know, interesting things? Like, now-I’m-horny types of interesting. I don’t know, Jade, I literally–”

“I’ve been telling you! He wants it so bad and you…” She gestures to your swimsuit, “...look so fucking hot. I’m personally struggling with not motorboating you right now.”

You laugh and hope that you’re not both too delusional to read the situation. “Ah, well… We should go, they definitely think we’re talking shit.”

“We’re not?” She giggles and picks up both of your drinks. “Alright…”

The sun slowly sets as you lounge and watch your friends play 2v2 pool volleyball. Dylan and Jade are on one team, Tyler and Jenny on the other. Marcus is sitting to your left, scrolling through Twitter and occasionally tilting the phone in your direction to show you memes. Tyler and Jenny were winning, namely as a result of Dylan’s uncoordination. It was nearly a shut-out, with Marcus eventually playing ref and calling the game once it got ridiculous. 

Dylan is soaked, cold water dripping from his hair onto your chest as he leans over your shoulder post-game. Goosebumps appear on your skin from the sensation.

“Can I help you?” You turn your head to face him.

“Can you make me that drink? A consolation prize? Pretty please.” His right hand is on your neck, thumb rubbing up and down the bones of your spine.

“What do I get if I do?” You stand and he removes his hand from your neck. He follows you to the bar, roles reversed as he sits on the stool and you stand behind the counter.

“What do you want?”

You line up the drink components on the counter and grab two empty glasses that had previously held your sangria. “I think you’re smart enough to figure it out, babe.”

“Honey…” He’s tapping his fingers on the table. The drink comes together quickly and you push a cup in his direction. He’s looking at you contemplatively and you lean on your elbows, pushing your face closer to his. He’s coated in the yellow glow of the sunset, light peeking from behind his hair like a halo. His brown features are enhanced by the warm light, your stomach doing flips as you try not to stare. You’re close enough to smell the sunscreen on his face. “Play volleyball with me and we can discuss.”

You roll your eyes, disappointed in his response. “You’re kinda ass at volleyball, Dylan. I don’t like being on the losing team.”

“I promise you’ll win, angel.”

You raise your eyebrows in amusement. “You promise?”

“With me?” You pretend not to catch the way his eyes move between your face and your breasts for a moment. “Yeah.”

You lose against Tyler and Jade, as expected. However, with the few successful spikes you were able to pull off, Dylan exhibited terrible sportsmanship. He gloated, picking you up and parading you, cheering in celebration around your half of the pool. You weren’t afraid that he would drop you, but happily took the opportunity to cling to his shoulders and press your breasts to the side of his face as he lifted you up and out of the water. It wasn’t winning, not yet, but you were lying if his grip on your thighs didn’t feel delicious.

Marcus starts up the grill while Jen begins to chop kebab vegetables on the bar counter. Tyler and Jade vacate the pool to help with the meal while you and Dylan remain. You sit closely on the steps on the far side of the pool, sunglasses on even as the sun disappears behind the horizon.

“Should we help out?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

Dylan shrugs. “I’m providing the grill, the venue, and the propane. I don’t feel too bad about waiting a sec before stepping in.” His hand rests on your inner knee.

“Can’t say those things apply to me, Dyl.”

He smiles. “But you’re keeping me company. Counts for something.”

“When you’re already deeply indebted to me…” You place your hand on his forearm.

“There was no way in hell we were winning that game, baby, you gotta know that.” You purse your lips and he continues. “But you don’t want payment now, do you?” His hand moves further up your thigh and he moves his face closer to yours. “Not with all our friends here, right, angel?” You narrow your eyes at him. You’ve reached an impasse, heart and pussy pounding in sync with one another. His free hand cups your face and you can see all of your friends distracted on the other end of the yard in your periphery.

“Dylan,” you breathe. His hand moves further up your thigh, thumb rubbing circles into your upper inner thigh, mere centimeters from your sensitive center.

“You can be patient, can’t you?” His cheek is pressed to yours. You can’t tell if you're imagining the kisses scattered down your cheek. “You’ve been so good all day for me, yeah?”

You nod limply, but pinch his forearm lightly before dragging his hand from your thigh to the edge of your swim bottoms. 

“That’s not being patient.” His tone is firm, but the tips of his fingers dip into the fabric. “We could have avoided this entirely if you just said something, baby.” You glance back at the group, still enjoying their time and minding their business. “Would’ve called it all off if I knew…” You shift your hips so he has easier access to your core. His fingers find their home between your folds, exposing the extent of your pent-up arousal. You let out a soft sigh at his touch and he pulls his face from yours to look you in the eye. Dylan continues, rubbing up and down the entirety of your cunt slowly. “Have you been like this all afternoon, angel? Thinking about when you get to go home and fuck yourself?”

“Please,” you whimper, gripping his arm.

“Do you think of me? I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for months. And now… Now when everyone is here, you’re so desperate for me. It’s torture, baby. Do you want our friends to see? To watch you fall apart beneath me?” 

You shake your head, unable to form a coherent sentence. He moves his hand from your swim bottoms and places it back on your thigh. 

“Then be patient. You’re my good girl, yeah? I know you can do it.” Dyaln presses a chaste kiss to your lips and stands from the pool. He chats with Marcus as he heads the grill, then collects empty glasses to bring inside. Your head is spinning as you get up and make your way to the bathroom, being sure to detour your route to brush past him a little too closely.

It’s a mostly bare room, walls hosting a couple of pieces of Mets memorabilia and not much else. Your reflection looks far less wild than you feel internally, the warm lightbulb making you look a little jaundiced. Your heart is pumping faster than it has since you met Dylan and you steady yourself on the counter. Desperately, one hand snakes into your bottoms and you’re hit with a rush of sensitivity. A few targeted rubs cause your orgasm to wash over you like a dam break. Your fingers stutter when it hits, body falling over on itself while your lonely pussy clenches around nothing. Your bottom lip is between your teeth, muffling any cries that manage to escape. Dylan’s fingers and voice were nearly enough as is, but the reality of fucking him was dawning on you. It was mere hours away, but the idea of adding them to your 8-month pining streak wasn’t favorable. A sigh of frustration leaves your mouth as you stand there, looking in the mirror and pressing your thighs together. You piss and clean yourself up before making your way back outside. It couldn’t have been more than seven minutes since you stepped in the bathroom, but when you lock eyes with Dylan, you know you’re fucked. He raises his eyebrows at you like you’re both in on a joke. You avert his gaze, embarrassed of how quickly he clocked you, and sit to chat with Jade.

“Hey, so… What’s your plan for the rest of the night?”

“Subtle.” She gives you a knowing glance. “Jen’s got work in the morning and Marcus and Tyler are going to a concert tonight. So… we’ll probably head out not too late after dinner. Got plans? More pool canoodling?”

“Fuck off.” You clear your throat. “Well, yeah. Actually. I think.”

She grins at you. “I’m tellin’ ya, your tits look–”

“Food’s ready!” Tyler calls from the grill, clicking the tongs together.

You gather around where the plate of kebabs sat on the bar counter, across the circle from Dylan. Over dinner you learn they’re seeing A Day to Remember tonight, followed by an apology for needing to dip so soon.

“No problem, man,” Dylan assures, but he’s looking at you when he says it. 

Once full, everyone helps by collecting plates and glasses and stacking them near the dishwasher. Marcus loads the dishes in while you, Jen, and Jade change into dry undergarments and fresh clothes. Tyler lost, found, and lost his keys again within the span of three minutes, causing everyone to search tables and between couch cushions. Dylan’s antsy, grumbling about how Tyler’s shit memory is the weed’s fault, until Jenny finds them. Once his keys are in-hand, your friends gather their things and file up at the door to leave. Maybe it was because you were experiencing the same anticipation, but Dylan seemed to rush the group out, saying something about getting to the concert in time to get merch without ridiculously long lines. 

You go to the kitchen, leftover alcohol-soaked fruit calling your name from the empty sangria pitcher. You hear everyone bid their farewells one at a time as you fish a fork from the drawer near the sink. The citrus was cut a little too thin for your liking, courtesy of Dylan’s knife skills, and slipped off the tip of the fork each time you tried impaling it. It’s fine, the apple chunks absorb wine best anyway. You are on chunk three by the time you hear the door shut.

Once the door is locked, Dylan makes his way into the room and points in your direction.

“You,” he says, walking towards you.

“Me.” You poke into a piece of apple and wave the fork in his direction. He doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for your shenanigans, but you poke the fruit between his lips anyway. His face doesn’t move and he grabs your wrist to tilt it away from his face. You accept your defeat and pop the apple chunk into your mouth instead. No need to waste it. 

“What did I say about being patient?” His hands rest comfortably on your hips and he pulls you close. You don’t know what you were expecting, maybe some more back and forth, but it certainly wasn’t getting straight to the point.

“I’ve been patient, Dylan.” You put the fork down and place your hands on his biceps. Your eyes are wide as you look up at him, hoping to charm him into fucking you now.

“Mmm… I don’t know.” He starts to press kisses to your neck. “You were in the bathroom for a while…”

Your face flushes with blood. “It was like, five minutes. Dylan… please.” You avoid verbally confirming his suspicions of what you were doing in that time. 

“You don’t need to hide from me.” He bites down hard enough to leave a mark, then licks the sting away. “But that’s not fair, is it?”

“Dylan.”

He pulls back from your neck to look at you, brown eyes dark under the soft lamp light. “Do you want to cum tonight?” It catches you by surprise, wide eyed watching him closely. “I said, that’s not fair, is it?” You blink, nod, then furiously shake your head. “Let me hear it.”

“No, it’s not fair. I’m sorry.” It takes everything not to squeeze your thighs together for some relief.

“Haven’t even had a taste yet and you’re helping yourself. I thought you were going to be good for me.”

“I am, Dylan, I promise.” Your hand moves from his arm to the nape of his neck, pulling at the short hairs that reside there. The game continues, and you can’t tell if you’re winning or losing right now. 

His lips press messily on yours. One of his hands travels from your torso to cup your core outside of your shorts. “You gonna keep touching yourself, baby? Or are you gonna let me handle it?”

“I’m gonna let–” your breath catches when he applies hard pressure over your center. “You, please.” You’re fighting the urge to pass out, breaths shallow and labored. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted, all along? You could’ve told me, angel; I would’ve done it for you.” He’s reaching under your shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your stomach as his fingers find one of your nipples. “You think I’ll live up to your imagination? Tell me, baby, how hard do you think I can make you cum?” You let out a strangled groan, senses overwhelmed by his hands and voice. “Wish I thought of getting you hot and half-naked in my yard sooner. Didn’t know that’d be what did it.”

“At the risk of getting another lecture on patience, could you politely get on with it?”

He removes his hand from your cunt to hold your jaw. His lips are in a sweet pout. “Honey… you’ve got a lot to learn.” You’re unmoving, unsure of what he has planned. “Tell me what you were thinking about.” All the blood in your body feels like it’s rushing between your face and your pussy, back and forth as the words fall from his lips. His eyes are unrelenting, holding your gaze like a deer caught in a snare.

“Well…” you let out a shaky breath. Your hands spread to the kitchen island behind you as you speak, “Us, right here.” Dylan’s still stoic, seemingly unaffected by your confession. The game was just getting fun, even if your mind was screaming to tap out, go home, figure out another way. You can hear your heartbeat conducting through the bones in your head and feel it pumping all the way to your fingertips. You’re trying to focus on the man whose face is mere inches from yours, the way he’s touching you, but the thick, heavy pump in your chest overwhelms your senses.

“Go on.” His hand moves from your jaw to your collarbone. “I know that’s not all.”

You’re trying to hide the tremble in your arms as you lean back against the edge of the countertop. “I guess…” You slowly turn 180 degrees, palms flat against the granite and his hot chest flush to your back. His hands remain on your body as you move and travel down your back. They land exactly where you’d envisioned they would. “Something kind of like this.” You raise yourself on your toes, pushing your ass into his crotch and leaning your elbows on the counter for support. 

“Kind of?” One hand moves up your back underneath your shirt while the other fiddles with the elastic on your shorts. 

“Less clothes, maybe?”

He laughs for the first time since your friends left. “I think I got that part.” His hands move again, this time settling on your outer upper thighs, gripping the area where your legs meet your torso. You don’t know what else to say. He is toying with you, seeing how much humiliation you can bear before begging for some relief. “Feeling shy? That all you wanna tell me?” You gulp and nod. Hopefully it’s enough. His left arm wraps around your torso to lift you to press tight against his chest. His right hand is still firmly on your pelvis, pulling you to rest on his semi. “You don’t need these, do you?” Dylan’s right hand moves to your front, fingers just barely dipping past your waistband.

“No.” It comes out far shakier than you intended.

“Take them off, then.” He releases you from his grip and you’re left supporting your own weight. Your arms and legs feel frail, like they should snap at any moment. You can sense his frame looming behind you, just far enough that you’re unable to touch him. Your clammy fingers wrap around your waistband and gently slide the shorts over the curve of your ass and down your legs. They fall to the floor with a gentle swish. After all the dreaming, three quarters of a year’s worth of thoughts kept between you and your bedside drawer, you feel unsure of what to do next. The anxieties of fumbling your course of action disappear as you hear Dylan drop to his knees and use a firm hand to spread you apart. You’re trying to steady your breathing, or at least reduce the noise you’re making, as he pulls your underwear to the side. “Hm.” Hm? “You put these on, like, half an hour ago. Already pr’soaked through.” Your head falls into your hands.

“Dylan.”

“Yeah, angel?” His fingers are gentle in their prodding, spreading your arousal to the outer edges of your cunt. “You’re real pretty.” He glides his wet thumb once over your clit, causing you to twitch into him.

“Please.”

“Please what?” He taps your leg and pulls a stool from your left. You’re fucking kidding. You appreciate the extra support as you lift your knee to the plush seat. With the new angle, he’s able to fully spread you with two fingers.

“I–anything, Dylan, please just touch me.” He blows air over your sensitive core and as much as you try to restrain yourself, your body betrays you. Your hole pulsates at the stimulus, as minor as it was. He circles your entrance with his thumb like he’s trying to calm the area, hysterically clenching and grasping, begging for his fingers. 

“I know, it’s not fair.” He pulls your underwear back to its proper place and pulls your leg down to stand. This is retribution. The game is sick, you’ve come to learn.

He stands up and turns you around, fingers holding your hips beneath your waistband. Your hands are pressed to his stomach. “You’re evil.” He smiles at that, proud of his ability to get you so distraught with nothing more than a few words and fingers.

“You don’t mean that.” He moves a hand to cradle your face. 

You nod. “I do mean it.” For all your begging to God to make this moment happen, you still need to beg Dylan to give it to you. 

“I keep my promises, baby.” He helps you sit up on the counter and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna win.” He kisses you deep and slow, strong hands shifting your hips to hang off the edge of the granite. One of your arms is locked around his neck holding you flush to him. Your right hand ghosts the waistband of his swim trunks before pulling the drawstring out of its knot. He grunts when your hand brushes his clothed cock as you pull the shorts down his legs. He pulls your hands from his body and holds them on the countertop behind you, pressing himself into your core as he licks the inside of your teeth. Your ankles lock behind his back and press him further into you. You groan into each other's mouths as you rock against each other. He’s calculated in his thrusts, snapping his hips right as your cunt rocks over him. The friction against your sensitive little nub pulls the strings in your abdomen tight, soon to snap. You attempt to break free from his grasp to no avail. Your movements stutter as every swipe feels like it’s shooting electricity up your spine.

“Ah, please, harder. Please!” Your legs tremble as your orgasm begins to overcome you. Dylan steps back from your body abruptly, the force of his movement unclasping your ankles and leaving them without support. Your hands are still held flat on the counter, keeping you from touching him. His eyes are dark, lips swollen and open from his labored breathing. You’re frustrated, shaking and reeling from your almost-completion. “What the f–!”

“Don’t move.” He pulls his hands from yours. He moves your thighs to spread you open for him again. He palms your cunt over your underwear, pressing firmly as you squirm beneath him. “You think I’m gonna make this easy on you?” 

“Clearly not,” you huff. 

“You haven’t made it easy on me either, angel.”

“Is this some sort of sick revenge for you?” You regret your rebuttal as soon as he stops the circling of his palm.

“You love it. Swear to God…” He pulls your underwear aside again, reviewing his work. You are glistening everywhere, cunt clenching and dripping for him. “Just need the right person.” He places the underwear back where it belongs. “Are you feeling tired, angel? Spent all afternoon lounging in the sun and now here I am, taking care of you, and you’re still unhappy?” He caresses your face, but keeps his hard dick away from your core. “Tell me, baby, do you really think I’m evil?”

“No.” You’re overwhelmed, and maybe he is evil, but you have one goal in mind. “I want you to fuck me,” you say bluntly. 

He chuckles. “You only had to say so.”

He pulls you off the counter and tugs you to his bedroom with him, leaving your discarded shorts on the kitchen floor. He’s not so coy here, open mouth on yours and hands tugging to remove your shirt. You assumed it’d be more of a marathon than a sprint with Dylan, but he had you completely naked, lying on the bed within two minutes. He was a gentleman, of course, stripping himself of his underwear to match your level of vulnerability. You try to keep your focus on his face, but his red-hot cock pressing into your thigh is understandably making it difficult.

“You’re gonna tell me what you like, okay angel?” He slips a finger between your folds, collecting your wetness and rubbing your clit vertically like he was in the pool. You nod. “How’s that?”

“Mm… it’s good.”

“Just good?”

“A little to the right maybe? My right?” He shifts slightly, finding the spot you use to make yourself cum. You cover your mouth with your hand as he uses the tip of his finger to gently brush over the area, sending shockwaves through your body. You were already so sensitive from your denied orgasm, you had no clue what you were capable of handling.

“Better.” It’s not a question, but you nod anyway. He continues, kissing up your neck and telling you to relax. “Remember, I got you. I’m gonna make you feel good, okay? I’m here to make you feel good.”

“Ah..!” You twitch away from his hand from the hypersensitivity. “Uh-huh. You got me.”

His finger moves from your clit to your pulsing little hole, circling it and spreading your wetness slowly. It wasn’t going to make you cum on its own, but it still felt divine. “Can I taste?”

“Please,” you beg. 

“So needy for me.” He bites your breast on his way down. “My needy baby. How long have you been dreamin’ about me, angel?” He’s kissing your inner thigh, waiting for a response to his question.

You’re honest. “Forever. Since I met you.” The words rush out with your breath, uneven. You sit up and look at him, big brown eyes and pink lips mere inches from where you wanted him.

“Forever,” he mumbles into your skin. “You did a good job keeping it to yourself for the first few months.”

“I’m glad I don’t anymore.”

“And why’s that?” He’s smiling up at you, far too goofy for being between your aching legs. 

“Ugh. I take it back.” You groan and lie back down on the bed. 

“Okay, okay…” He taps your clit with his thumb. “You still gotta tell me what you like, okay?”

“Okay.” You reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair as he swipes his broad, flat tongue over your cunt. You can’t help the noise that comes out of your mouth, nor the clench of your pussy that he certainly felt against his tongue. He circles your clit, saliva mixing with your own arousal and creating wet noises that are sure to reappear in the fantasies that result from this encounter. You scratch his scalp lightly. “I think vertical is a little better.” He grunts and changes his technique. You squirm at the feeling of his hot, wet tongue pressing onto you, eating like it was his first meal in months. His left arm is wrapped around your leg, hand resting on your lower stomach pulling you to his face. You’re unable to move under his grip, every twitch or flail impeded by his strength. His tongue travels further down to your hole, slipping in and out of it as excruciating intervals. It feels good on its own, but great when coupled with the way his nose brushes against your clit with every pump. “That’s good. That’s so good,” you gasp. Your forearm is clamped between your teeth, muffling your cries. 

“You’re close?” The vibration of his words against your cunt cause you to twitch into his mouth. 

“Uh-huh.”

“I can feel it.” You tug on his hair, encouraging him to allow you to finish. The way his tongue licks up your pussy, pushing and rubbing firmly against your clit, elicits a choked moan. Again, he pulls back suddenly. You thrash your hips in frustration, letting go of his hair to grip the sheets beneath you. Before you’re able to complain, he presses his wet lips to yours. His tongue tastes like you, tangy and familiar. He settles between your legs, pressing his cock between your folds. Dylan rocks across you, never moving from your lips. The only noises in the room are the wet ones coming from your two points of connection. To regain some semblance of control, you snake your hand down between you to grab his cock. It’s already well lubricated from the way it was nestled in your cunt. He bites down on your lip when you grasp him, losing control for a moment and fucking into your tight fist. Your hand twists around him so your fingers are pressing into the most sensitive part of his cock and your knuckles brush against your core. He’s gasping and biting at your neck as you pump him, clearly wound up after your afternoon of back-and-forth. He’s not distracted for long, as the sweet symphony of your cries tip him off to exactly what you’re doing. “That definitely counts as touching yourself, angel,” he says while pulling your hand away from where your bodies meet. You’re frustrated, body brought so close and kept so far from your release for what felt like hours.

“Can you blame me?” Your breathing is heavy; your eyes are looking into his for an ounce of mercy. He only holds your gaze for a moment before sitting back on his knees and scanning your body, saving its image for his own lonely nights. 

“No,” he says, caressing your thigh. “Definitely not. Roll over.” You do, making the decision not to press your hips into the bed for a twinge of relief. Dylan is being needlessly cruel, but the end has to be near. You can be good; you can do it for him, give him what he likes. You never thought you’d see this side of him, domineering, competent, and so incredibly sexy. It was almost worth the eight months of fumbling and awkward quasi-flirting–given that he actually lets you finish. The game was fun, but you both knew the feeling of clenching around him with stars behind your eyelids was infinitely better. He sighs as he pulls your hips up off the bed, finally ready to play fair. Gently, he pulls your legs apart. His fingers are no longer exploratory; his purpose is explicit as he swipes his thumb against your clit at a casual pace. His middle finger circles your hole so lightly it feels like a tickle. “This okay?” He presses onto your entrance, but doesn’t push in. “Jus’ wanna see…”

“Yes,” you say, voice muffled by the sheets pressing against your face. 

“Wanna know what you feel like,” he continues, talking to nobody but himself. His middle finger slides in easily. “Jesus.” Your body is ecstatic to finally have something to tremble around. “Why y’been keeping this from me, baby?” He pumps slowly, rotating his wrist to push down on your g-spot. His thumb still rubs across your clit in an almost excruciating manner. You’re lubricated and loose enough to allow him to put his index finger into the mix, your cunt grasping and twitching around him. 

“I could say the same thing,” you sigh. Your arms are outstretched to hold onto the mattress for support as you move your hips to softly fuck onto his fingers. He’s motionless, fingers curled and allowing you to use him for your pleasure. It’s good, it’s building, but it doesn’t fill you right. “Dylan?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not gonna let me cum on your fingers, are you?”

“Absolutely not.” His thumb picks up speed on your clit, continuing to play with you, to challenge you. Your breath hitches, sheets between your teeth. 

“Please, Dylan, I think I’ve learned my lesson.” You clench around his fingers, hoping to entice him for just long enough to want to know how his cock would feel inside of you. A soft groan escapes his throat. You’re warm and soft and wet, perfect and ready for his pretty pink dick. “I need you to fill me up. Please, I can’t–“ You’re interrupted by your own pleasure, shooting it’s way up your body as he presses into your g-spot and taps your clit in unison. 

“You need me that bad? Been waiting for so long, haven’t you?” He purrs and removes his hands from your center. Despite the shakiness in your thighs and the beat of your cunt, relief washes over you. 

“Please. So bad.” Dylan pushes your lifted hips back down onto the bed and lies overtop of you.

“Okay,” he says while tucking your stray hair behind your ear. He’s looking at you–really looking at you for the first time since your friends left. You wish you knew what his eyes were searching for. He’s the same Dylan he’s always been, but it’s different. His tousled hair was your doing, as were his kiss-bitten lips and the haziness behind his eyes. You soak it all in on the off-chance this is a fluke, that you’ll never find yourself here again. He rubs the underside of your thigh as you hook your ankles over his back. “Are you ready?” His tone is softer than it’s been in nearly an hour. 

“Yes.” He aligns himself with your entrance and gently presses into you. 

“Ah, relax…” He braces himself on one hand, placed to the left of your head. His other hand grips your side. He continues to inch himself into you, eyes watching your face to gauge your comfort. You’re gripping his shoulders, trying not to dig your nails into his skin. “It’s okay, relax, I got you.” 

“Okay, okay,” you whisper as he bottoms out inside of you. He grunts, pressing in as much as he can and holding it, pubic mound pressing to your clit. He partially pulls out, then pushes himself back in. Air escapes through your teeth as you cling harder to him, no longer giving a damn if you mark him or not. He fills you just like you hoped he would: to the brim until it stung with pleasure.

“Fuck.” Dylan finds a comfortable pace to allow you to get used to him, mumbling expletives and replacing his faded bite mark on your neck. “So wet for me.” You use the leverage from your locked ankles to meet his thrust midway, pushing him even deeper into your core. You squeak with every scrape against your g-spot, bottom lip clamped firmly between your teeth. His hips quicken their pace as his lips press to yours. You feel a shift behind your head, then Dylan pulls back. “Up,” he says, tapping your hip. He slides a pillow, silk case and all, underneath your ass to provide him with better access. He pushes your leg up so your knee is near your head and holds it there as he begins to roll into you. His head pokes into your g-spot at the same cadence of the skin of his lower stomach scraping against your sensitive clit. Your pussy clings to him each time he pulls out; its only purpose is to milk him dry. The adam’s apple in his throat bobs as he watches himself disappear within you. “Jesus Christ, how are you still so tight?” It rushes out of him in one breath. You tug him back down, needing to feel his chest on yours as he brings you, finally, to your completion. Every thrust feels like it’s stretching the rubber band in your stomach further and further, its elasticity painfully endless. 

“Ah, yeah, like that.” You can feel your cunt gripping him, pulling at him as he hammers into you. “Don’t stop, please, Dylan, please,” you cry, holding on for dear life as his thrusts begin to shake the bed.

“I know, I know,” he coos. “Me too, baby.” All his weight is on the elbow by your head, spare hand on your hip to hold you still as he stutters into you. The pit of your stomach feels like you’re on a roller coaster lift, up, up, up until–

“Oh, my God.” Your eyes screw shut when it hits you, the pulsations of your cunt reverberating up your torso and through your limbs. Your back arches uncontrollably, stomach pressed to his. Your heart is beating out of your chest, wet and heavy like the cock still pistoning in and out if you. 

“You’re so good. Fuck, you’re so good.” It’s muffled in your ears, your overstimulated body focusing on the stretch of his dick and the shakiness in your thighs. He presses himself fully into you and holds it there, a yelp escaping from your lips as he does. “Where?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you choke out. He sits up as he pulls out quickly, though you wouldn’t mind if he didn’t. Next time, maybe. Before he’s able to finish, you grasp and pump him from where his cock rests on your mound. It takes one tight squeeze before he twitches in your fist and ribbons of cum adorn your stomach. He’s holding onto your knee for support, breathing labored. You’re flat on your back, sinking into the mattress to center yourself and organize your thoughts. 

“You okay?” He leans over you again, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You nod, a small smile gracing your face as you notice the sweat on his brow. He grins and places another kiss on your mouth before getting up and retrieving a towel from the en suite. He wipes your pussy first, needing to hold you still as the feeling of the towel is still too much, then delicately cleans up your stomach. The towel gets tossed to the floor, a responsibility for another time. The room is dark, but he finds you anyway, pulling you to his chest. “Was it worth the wait?” You laugh, unsure if he was referring to the day or the year. 

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” He feigns offense at your response.

“I need a few more data points before I’m sure.” He scoffs.

“Oh, fuck off,” he laughs and pulls you tighter to him. “You don’t need some elaborate ploy to get me again, baby. I saw you–no, felt you cum so hard; no need to be coy with me.”

“Okay…” You fiddle with the hairs on the back of his neck. “Definitely worth it, but I want it again. And I don’t wanna wait.”

“I can make that happen,” he says while ghosting kisses on your shoulder. You lie comfortably together, skin-on-skin listening to each other breathe. Your mind is a haze of the day’s activities, unsure of what memories you can truly believe.

“Dylan?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“What did you mean when you said I did a good job ‘keeping it to myself for the first few months’?” He laughs and his hand travels down to rest on your ass.

“God, see this is why I couldn’t do anything. You tried making out with me on, like, four separate occasions at Jenny’s birthday party. Very persistent.” You groan as you remember, or more, don’t remember that evening. The first thing you know about Jenny’s party was walking in, already riding the high of a successful pregame, with a bottle of tequila tied with a bow for her, and taking a required shot at the door. The second thing you remember is waking up in Dylan’s spare bedroom the next morning. This was three months ago.

“That… explains a lot.” You hadn’t noticed at the time, far too in awe of Dylan’s attention, but he did act differently as the spring transitioned to the summer. He would sit next to you at group brunch, suggest outings with just the two of you, occasionally get a little handsy, and start peppering pet names in his conversations with you until it became second nature. You weren’t delusional, at least not in the ways you thought you were.

“It’s okay. It’s cute.” He rubs your thigh as he speaks. “It’s funny though, you refused to get in an Uber with Jade to take you home. You literally wouldn’t let go of my hand.”

“So fucking embarrassing.” You cover your eyes with your hand as you cringe at the thought. 

“Look where it got you, though.” He pulls your hand from your face and presses a kiss to your lips.

well. that’s it. hope u enjoyed <3 i have some (many) ideas for continuing this soooo maybe that’ll show up soon ;) pls feel free to leave me feedback, like, n reblog! 

[hotvintagepoll]

Margaret Hamilton— oh you KNOW she scrungled. and she has one of the top ten most beautiful noses of all time, in my objectively correct opinion. and look how her face lights up when she smiles in the wicked witch screen test!

Miloš Kopecký (The Fabulous Baron Munchausen, Lemonade Joe)—a weird man who had range within his weirdness. from his spooky camp cabaret turn as Hogofogo [TikTok link] to riding a canon ball in Baron Prasil [below the cut], he brings a warmth and wit to his scrungle gentlemen that is near unmatched.

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Margaret Hamilton:

Terrifying legions of children as the Wicked Witch of the West, sure, but I would argue that Margaret Hamilton was also Peak Scrungle as Miss Gulch. She also had a long career as a character actress, showing up with her distinctive profile to add a little zip to any film she was in!

was typecast in homely, shrill, and creepy character roles because she wasn't hollywood-attractive but was always so fun to watch

I feel like she's gotta be a shoo-in for scrungliness, but just in case people have lost their minds I'm submitting her. From Wikipedia, here is an intriguing meditation on the difference between scrungly actors and their scrungly roles: "When Hamilton reprised her role as the Wicked Witch in a 1976 episode of Sesame Street, 'the show's producers were flooded with letters from parents saying it was too frightening for children.' She appeared as herself in three episodes of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood, between 1975 and 1976, because Fred Rogers wanted his viewers to recognize the Wicked Witch was just a character and not something to be afraid of."

Miloš Kopecký:

[la-undercover-latina]

Knock me up already!! (AOT HC’s) Part 1

Requested by: @arlerts-angel

Summary: You tell your husband that you want a baby

Jean

“Hey baby,” you gently pull Jean’s attention from the people below your balcony. Jean had started people watching recently from there.

Your eyes had spotted a couple pushing a stroller down the street, stopping to take a break at the ice cream shop a couple buildings down, leaving you to be able to see the sleeping baby in the stroller.

“Yes Princess,”

“I want us to have a baby,” you came out and said it. There was no use beating around the bush. All that would do would be wasting time. Jean had started to sip on a glass of lemonade that you’d brought out for him when you noticed he was on the porch. Lemonade that he now proceeded to choke on when he processed the words that left your lips.

“I wanna make sure I heard you right. You want a baby,” Jean spoke and you nodded.

“Say no more. What my Princess wants, my Princess gets,” he smirked and scooped you into his arms and carried you to your bedroom that was just inside your balcony.

With only a few thrusts, he had you moaning his name, and that didn’t stop well into the night.

After a while, you two decided to take a break. For you both to recharge and for you to go use the bathroom.

There was just one slight problem.

“Baby? Can you help me get off the bed? I can’t walk,” you spoke, feeling how much your legs were shaking while laying flat on your back. There was no way you were going to try putting weight on said legs.

“Yeah one second honey,” he came in with a smirk on his face.

“What?” You asked and his smirk deepened.

“I came through on my promise earlier. The one where I told you that if you kept being a brat, you wouldn’t walk for a couple days at least,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Might want to call out of work Princess,” he told you as he scooped you up and walked you to the bathroom, setting you on the toilet.

The next day, while you were resting on the couch with Netflix, Jean had been all smiles and had a serious pep in his step. He was floating on cloud nine as the image of you, belly swollen with the baby you both made, was on constant replay. So much so that the first place he went to after leaving work, was the drugstore to get a pregnancy test.

When he came home, after checking on you and giving you kisses, he handed you the bag with the test inside.

“Jean, I can’t take this right now,”

“Why not? With how much cum I shot into you yesterday, there’s no way that’s going to come up with anything less than positive,”

“Baby, it doesn’t work that way. There’s a bit of a waiting game. We have to wait for my body to miss my next period, and then we can test it,” you explained, a smile on your face with how clueless your husband was.

“Oh. So when are you supposed to be on your next period?” He asked, a bit of his bravado diminished.

“A couple weeks from now. But I promise we can test every morning that week,” you gave Jean a smile and he kissed your nose.

“Honestly Princess, all I could think about at work today was you pregnant with our baby,”

“Me too,” you admitted and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Sure enough, a couple weeks later, as promised, every day that week, you’d taken the tests. Jean had went and got 6 more over the couple weeks between the first one and now.

After the waiting time for the test to read, you stared at the test, trying to look at it from all different angles because you honestly couldn’t tell. The one you grabbed at random happened to be one of the ones with the lines rather than the ones that you urged Jean to buy after the first one. The ones that will flat out tell you if you are or not.

Having heard your phones timer, Jean looked at the test himself, his head tilting and an eyebrow rose.

“Can you tell what that is?”

“Nope. Onto another,” you reached underneath the cabinet and grabbed another test.

After another ten minutes, you glanced at the test window. Jean had turned around to see your eyes watering, and you grabbed the test, lifting it up for him to see the clear word in the window.

‘Pregnant’

Armin

It came on your little princess’s fourth birthday, when the knowledge that your little girl was growing up finally slapped you across the face.

“What’s wrong?” Armin asked, noticing a frown between your brows as you both got ready for bed.

“It just hit me that Estelle is growing up. She’s not our little baby anymore,” you pouted and Armin smiled gently before pulling you to his chest.

“Estelle will always be our baby girl. She’s just getting a little bigger,” Armin tried to reason, and that was when you let the ball drop.

“What if we tried for another?” You asked and Armin’s eyes widened in surprise, before a brilliant smile crossed his lips.

“Please tell me this isn’t some TikTok prank Angel. I don’t know if I could handle that,”

“It’s not. It’s been enough time since I was pregnant last and Estelle is going to start kindergarten soon,” you reasoned. And like that, Armin’s oceanic eyes went to the lock on your bedroom door, ensuring it was indeed locked.

When his eyes met yours, your breath caught in your throat. Armin’s beautiful blue eyes were almost all black, consumed with the lust running through his veins.

Midway through, he had to cover your mouth with his hand.

“I can’t be sure to breed this pussy if you wake up Estelle. Now be quiet for daddy and I’ll make sure to knock you up Angel,” he told you in a deep voice and you nodded, needing to be tipped over the edge that you were now balancing on.

Sure enough, after a few more rounds of that every night, it was no surprise that the test came back positive. Armin swung you around in a circle and peppered your face with kisses.

“Now to tell Estelle she’s going to be a big sister,” you smiled brightly before bringing Armin’s lips to yours.

Reiner

It would’ve come after keeping an eye on the four teens that followed Reiner around like little ducklings. And you loved it. Specifically Gabi and Falco were the ones you had to really keep an eye on though, since Gabi was known for getting in trouble and Falco was so obviously in love- he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

When you both were in your apartment for the night, and you were behind Reiner giving his shoulders a massage, that was when you dropped the bomb that you knew all day.

“Reiner?”

“Alright this must be serious, you’re using my government name,” he’d turned around, instinctively wrapping his arms around your waist.

“So I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” you trailed off. Now that Reiner’s gentle eyes were on you, you didn’t know if you could go through with it. What if he stuck to his statement from a few years ago ‘I don’t want to bring a baby into a world like this,’

“What’s wrong Princess?” Reiner asked, seeing your hesitation.

“I don’t know how you’ll feel about this, but I want us to have a baby,” The smile that spread over your husband’s lips had you taken aback. You were expecting shock, not glee and excitement.

“Really?” He asked, wanting to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

“Yeah,”

“Well then let’s get started,” Reiner stood to his full height to ensure the door was locked and the blinds and curtains were drawn. Nobody was getting a free peep show.

And like that, over the next couple of weeks, you got a couple noise complaints, leading Reiner to stop at an Adam & Eve on his way home after the second noise complaint.

“A ball gag?” You asked with a raised brow and Reiner got the dark twinkle in his eyes.

“What can I say? You aren’t quiet when you’re gonna cum,”

“So where’s yours?” You teased, and suddenly you were picked up and swept away to the bedroom where you got to test said ball gag out.

No more complaints.

You were pretty convinced, with how much of Reiner’s seed was stuffed into you, that you were pregnant. Even before you missed the visit from Aunt Flo. So when you did miss it, your best friend Pieck had a pregnancy test waiting for you at her apartment when you came over for couples game night while waiting for Reiner to show up.

He had gotten some last minute rush paperwork that came across his desk ten minutes before he was supposed to leave, and after asking his boss, he found out that he couldn’t leave until it was done since it was time sensitive.

“I’m going to be surprised if it comes back negative,” they commented during the waiting period for the test to read the sample.

Once both of you looked at the test, Pieck wrapped you into a tight hug.

“I’m going to have a little niece or nephew!” Pieck smiled brightly.

“Yeah now just how to tell him?” You thought for a moment and Pieck got a mischievous look in their eye.

“I’ve got an idea,”

[orange-orchard-system]

I have many rants inside me about the way allergies need more attention and accomodations but I will hold those in to say that I wish it was better known that molds are used in a lot of food processing. They're used to make preservatives, additives, flavorings, powders... You can find them in sauces, muffins, candy, jelly, yogurt, juices, corn syrup, citric acid, cheese, cereal, lemonade, chocolate bars, ketchup, burritos... and more; all that's just off the top of my head.

When people think of mold allergies, they think of mold growing in people's houses, or maybe specific medicines like penicillin. But mold has a lot of uses in food production – some molds even get blanket permissions to be used however, even when they're known allergens, because they're just so damn useful for food production. And while I admire these molds for their capabilities, I hate how unknown the health problems they can cause are. I hate how no one is taught that they might be allergic to them, and I hate how often I have to learn the hard way that I'm allergic to an ingredient or food I thought was safe.

Please, if there's one thing I want people to know, it's that:

Wheezing

Your mouth going numb

Tingling in your mouth or throat

Pain in your throat

Difficulty/pain when speaking, breathing, or swallowing

Getting sores or blisters in your mouth

especially after eating something... are not normal. These are signs that you are consuming something you should not be. If you often experience these or get other strange side effects from eating seemingly random foods (especially if one or multiple of them are in my earlier list), look up the ingredients to see if there's a common theme in what they're made of/with during production. And don't be afraid to get tested for what exactly it is that's causing your symptoms, if you can afford it; having listed allergies on file is very important, especially if you end up in a situation (like in the hospital) where accomodations must be made. Plus, it's just good information to know. A lot of people will attest that it can be hard to find foods these days that don't have preservatives or additives (which, if you haven't guessed, are typically made with mold), but if nothing else, it's good to be on the lookout so you can cut out or limit pain-causing foods where possible.

In short: no, regular pizza without toppings is not supposed to be especially spicy. Yes, lemonade is meant to quench your thirst, not make you even thirstier. Yes, mold is used in food production, and it's part of a lot of different ingredients. No, you don't have to put up with pain or discomfort just because you're used to it. You deserve food that you can eat safely and happily.

[britt-kageryuu]

A bit of a content warning! Mentions of Blood, mentions of dismemberment(I think), not sure what else, but Mikey is wielding a knife. He's Cooking!

(I for a very silly reason want to say this ain't very Vegan Friendly, but that's just a weird part of my humor coming through. Let me know if I should get rid of this weird joke of a content warning!)

Mikey is doing another cooking show stream, though he switched somethings up. He's showing off some skills he learned from the high level cooking classes he took recently. And not just the new gadgets and tools he added to his kitchen.

Like he's butchering the skinned, blooded(drained the blood), body of a deer during the stream. He explained that there had been a bit of an accident when they went to visit a friend of theirs that lived out in the woods. "Todd is a total sweetheart! He runs a puppy sanctuary, makes some of the best lemonade, and he's an amazing blacksmith!"

Mikey had already removed the organs, legs and head by this point. And he was separating the main part of the rib area. All while telling random anecdotes.

"I remember hearing those jokes about people hiding weird stuff in their recipe stories, because most people never read that part. And it just made me think how weird it would be to just drop, 'My Dad was trapped in a highly toxic relationship for like 10 years, but during that time he learned the recipe for the best dumplings ever, and here it is!'." Mikey says this with such a upbeat tone, while holding the knife close to his face 'cutely', "But this could only work with like 3 recipes that my Dad taught me. Though I think one of those was from one of the assistants that worked for Barry. Who Dad meet briefly after escaping from his Ex-Fiance."

Mikey paused to chop harshly through a tough connection point.

"Hmm. I think I need to sharpen my knives, I should've been much farther in this than I am." He holds the knife at an angle to look at the blades edge. "Give me a sec, chat!"

Mikey puts the knife down, and goes to a draw, and searches for a moment before coming back with a stone.

"For those who don't know what this is. It's a whetstone, which is traditionally used in blade sharpening. Let me demonstrate by sharpening this knife!"

The audience is not very sure how to handle parts of this stream. Some are fascinated, others are confused, while some feel a bit concerned.

Mikey then demonstrates the now sharp knife by chopping right through a bone section.

"Well, that's more than I expected, but it will definitely get the job done!" Mikey chirps out, "I wonder what else this could cut through? Well I can't test that right now, especially if I want to get around to cooking something today."

He goes back to cutting apart the different sections that were still together.

"Also, I swear the most delicious thing I've ever had, was sadly also poisonous. Not really in a 'this will kill me' way, but a 'I felt boneless for 6 hours' kinda way. And I was forbidden from trying to get the recipe!" Mikey rants with a slight glare off to the side.

Now the audience is even more conflicted, and concerned.

Someone in the chat brings up that Mikey has a Psychology Degree, and some people start to wonder if Mikey is just messing with them or not.

-----------------

Masterpost

I honestly wrote this because of that 'Hide dark stuff in the recipe story' joke. And the idea of Mikey telling one while cutting apart a carcass or something.

[ohtobealady]

For the one word prompts, could I get breeze please ☺️

Well! I had about sixty different ways I wanted to end this one, but this drabble has a mind of its own. The prompt word is in there, but just barely. Short and sweet baby!cobert for ya, my sweet friend!

—————‘,—————

Breeze

Her heart raced.

Slightly alarmed, and altogether surprised, Cora pulled in a silent breath and held it as he turned his soft smiles elsewhere, to the woman at his right.

Oh, what was wrong with her? True, he’d been the kindest to her in an achingly gentle and humble way, in a way that suggested she’d somehow known him for far longer than she really had. And true again, he did seem to share her humor and as he laughed, or rather chuckled, at her joke—-“I’ve never heard so many adjectives to describe a hit.”—-she felt a little frightened of the way her chest felt tighter, but lighter all at once.

Lord Woodroth, who had asked her to the Lord’s Test Cricket match and on whose arm her hand rested, hadn’t laughed.

Cora removed her hand.

“Is this your first cricket match, Miss Levinson?”

She nodded at the woman. “Yes.”

“And you aren’t enjoying it, then?”

Before Cora could answer him, though, the woman beside him interjected. “Not everyone enjoys The Cricket as much as you, Robert.” And Cora grinned at the way he—-Robert, oh his name was Robert—-rolled his eyes.

“Not even I enjoy it as much as our Lord Downton,” Lord Woodroth added quietly, annoyed she could tell, but Cora couldn’t care.

“I don’t doubt that, Lord Woodroth,” the woman said, her voice sounding far away. “I practically had to restrain him from jumping from his seat and running to the field.”

“Oh, you exaggerate.” The apples of his cheeks looked rosier when he argued.

“Not by much…” the woman added, and then Cora heard her ask something regarding lemonade and Lord Woodroth, too, and Cora found herself having to nod at him, quickly, to disguise the way her thoughts had drifted away from him and to the way Lord Downton—-Robert—-was grinning back at her. He was grinning at her the way he had when they’d danced together three nights ago. Twice. And the way they’d danced at the ball before that. A waltz. And Cora felt breathless.

“Thank you,” she managed before Woodroth walked away with the other woman. But then Lord Downton stepped closer to her, and Cora lost all sense again.

“You’ll have to excuse my sister,” he chuckled. “She thinks she’s much cleverer than she is.”

Cora smiled. “No, no. I’m grateful to her. Truth be told, I’m not sure I enjoyed the match as much as Lord Woodroth would’ve liked. It was nice to have someone make a little fun.”

“Not enjoyed it?”

Cora snorted a laugh at the incredulity he wore. “Oh. Sorry!” She tipped her head. “I don’t mean to offend you.”

“You really didn’t like it? Not at all?”

“But I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it at all. I only said I hadn’t enjoyed it much. There is a difference.”

“I suppose you enjoy the derbies more. Or God forbid the tennis.”

She shook her head, laughing again. “No. At least I don’t think.”

“Well what is it that you do like, Miss Levinson?” His voice was lower. Softer. So soft she could hardly hear it over the breeze that moved the waves of his chestnut hair. “Please tell me.”

She hoped she smiled up at him, even if she wasn’t sure, for her face went much too warm at his attempt at forwardness. She laughed, awkwardly, and looked into the crowd to try and find Lord Woodroth.

Lord Downton, however, shifted beside her. “I apologize.”

But she shook her head and, taking a step much too close to him, she looked into his eyes. “No. Don’t apologize. It’s only …” she took in another deep breath, and with it filling her lungs, she let herself flirt back. “I think what I like should be rather obvious.”

[wisekiwi123]

The promise slacker life

Tcf and the promise land cross over

Kim Rok Soo fell asleep while reading the promise never land and woke up as Father Cale the head of Gracefield Orphanage.Father Cale was a trash caretaker who would raise kids to be eaten.He would reach his end when Choi Han protagonist would come to beat his ass while rescueing the children of Gracefield.

Determined to avoid his fate and get his slacker Kim Rok Soo now known as Cale decides to become the best darn caretaker to ever exist to obtain his slacker life.

**Characters**

Cale

The original Cale was raised in Gracefield and was recommended to become a father by Grandpa Ron and became a heavy drinker due to the guilt of having the children get eaten

Because of the heart bomb planted inside him.Cale is unable to leave the area of the orphanage so he insteads starts small by manipulating the test scores so all the kids get goods grades to buy them time.

Cale is very different from the original cale since he no longer acts trashy or irritable which makes the kids like On and Hong suspicious.

He still hates lemonade and anything bitter but Cale still works hard to figure out all the secrets in gracefield

He convinces On and Hong not to run away just yet and trains them all in ways of survival for the day they do run and also removing their trackers

Cales is still very afaird of grandpa Ron since its hard to figure out his motive and is suspicious of Brother Beacrox since he was sent by Ron to “help” him.

Cale also saves the Choi Han who was injured from breaking into gracefield, feeds him and makes a plan with him to help the kids escape

Choir han

Crossed the border between world and found himself in the forest when he was young and fought demons to survie ever since

Later finds out about the farms through farm survivors like Roselyn and Lock when he goes to Goldiepond

Joins their resistence and help free kids from the demons

One day he gets attack by a bunch of humans on the demon side while trying to break in to gracefield and is ingured.

he gets saved by Father Cale who was nothing of what he expected him to be.

Choi Han remains in hiding during his time in gracefield and learns that cale isn't evil but wants the kids to be free

got in a fight against Beacrox

They make a plan together for Choi Han escapes with all the children but unfortunately it means leaving Cale behind.

On

Is one of the orphan children of gracefield along with her brother Hong

She discovered that gracefied was a farm one day when they followed cale out of curiousity

On had been preparing to escape with her brother for years but was stopped by cale who later gave them hints on the William nerveriam book and later trains them on skills need to survie

On is very perspective, top of her class and learns how to make fog through science and the material Cale gives her that they use for their escape

Although still suspicious of cale especially when Beacrox sudden arrival one day .Shesoon learns that all Father Cale wants is his slacker life

On trusted Cale enough to follow Choi Han when escaping

Toy given: A fluffy grey cat

Hong

Younger brother to On and also an orphan at gracefield

Followed Father Cale when he was young and saw what happened to the children when they shipped

Has been planning to escape with On for years

Got caught by Father Cals when trying to climb the wall surround the orphanage

Was suspicious of Cale at first but after getting hints , survival lessons and yummy snacks he is no longer doubt fall

Has read all the books on medical herbs and knows how to make poison

Him and his sister have worked together to make poison fog that they used in their escape

Stuff toy given:A fluffy Red Cat

Ron

Used to be a father at gracefield when og Cale was young .Never really liked the farming system but can't rebel yet

Had a soft spot for Og Cale so recommend him to become a father.

realised quickly that Cale was acting different during his monthly report

Tested him with lemonade but had the same reaction

Send Beacrox to keep an eye on Cale to assist him with anything he maybe

Turns a blind to many things that Cale had requested for and Choi Hans existence in gracefield

Was very amused when the kids broke out and the Reason why cake decided to stay back

Beacrox

Former gracefield orphan and biological son to Grandpa

Was sent to assist and monitor Cale

Never really understood why Ron decided to recommend og Cale to become a father since to him Cale was a drunk with weak mental strength.

learns quickly that father Cale change and is planning something big. Becomes suspicious of Cale’s intentions

feeds him lemonade and reports his reaction to Ron. Continues to feed him lemonade due to orders.

Soon Makes a deal with Cale to help smuggle the items request to Ron. As well as to help teach the children more skills outside the curriculum.

agrees due to Ron not having a problem with Cale’s demands

Amazing cook and is in charge of all meal.Also helps keep the house clean and the children tidy

Had a small fight with Choi Han that resulted in injury

Help teach the kids especially Hong how to identify what plants to eat and which are poisonous.

At first only helped because of orders but soon became earnest in his efforts for the kids escape.

( thank you for reading and have an amazing day/night!)

[here4kpopfics]

Make My Day | MYG

Just a small thing based off a real life moment that just makes me 🤗 no smut no plot not really anything to warn about. yoonmin version on my ao3

~

Today was a day. Working in retail is and always will be physically and emotionally draining and every shift has you questioning why, only to be reminded by the never ending alerts from your bank account of the answer.

Just a few more years, your debts will hopefully be less and you can move somewhere else in the middle of nowhere and never have to use your fake customer service voice again.

That’s the dream.

But for now, you’re minding your business, have barely spoken a word to your managers or coworkers because you’re tired after a six day workweek with hours varying between six and ten hours a shift, and you’re just done.

The few customers you did take, were complete assholes. Whether it’s bitching about the return policy, complaining about lack of discounts, or just ranting about the line that shouldn’t have been thirty minutes long (it was five to ten maximum, but go off, Karen), they all had something to say to test you and your patience.

Luckily, you’ve worked in retail for far too long that the yelling and the cursing and the name calling do absolutely nothing to you anymore. If anything, it makes you giggle internally. Except that one time you accidentally laughed out loud and that set off a whole new tirade about being disrespectful to the old white guy that was calling your younger coworker incompetent trash.

Because you know, it’s not the same thing. It’s different.

So you stayed quiet for a vast majority of your shift, letting your coworkers handle customers and you handled the go backs, organizing and reticketing those that needed it. You didn’t even notice Yoongi coming up to your station until you turned around, jumping in place and almost shouting.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Yoongi. Don’t do that!” You whispered, always afraid a customer would hear you curse and another tantrum would be thrown.

“I said your name.”

“Well, I didn't hear it.”

“I said it like three times.”

“Liar.”

“You can’t prove that.”

You couldn’t even look at him or bring yourself to continue arguing. You just roll your eyes and go back to your go backs, ignoring him. You have to ignore him.

You’ve had a small crush on Yoongi for a few months now. He’s sweet, funny when he wants to be, soft spoken, his long hair usually up in a half ponytail. He’s beautiful. It doesn’t help that he loves to loiter around your station, bothering you with random questions and comments.

It also doesn’t help that he's in a very serious relationship and has been for years. So he’s strictly off limits.

But there’s nothing wrong with a little friendly flirting, right? As long as you don’t act on it. As long as he doesn’t act on it.

So you keep your space, both of you talking only while clocked in, and keeping the conversations as vague as can be. You will not be responsible for any breakups. You will just admire him from a distance.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to know about this, though.

“You good?” Yoongi speaks after a moment of silence.

“Mmm.” You hum, nodding, eyes glued to the clothes you’re reticketing.

“You don’t seem good.”

“I can’t always have a sunshine personality, Yoongi. That’s not me.”

“Fair.” He shrugs, grabbing the go backs you’ve deemed ready and taking them to the fitting room to be sorted. You sigh, wanting to curl up under the tables and hide until closing.

You go to break later, quickly inhaling something overpriced from the vending machine and a lemonade, before returning to your station.

That’s when you see it.

It’s ugly, honestly. An almost cropped jacket that is Barbie pink and fuzzy. The price tag makes you want to throw up. This jacket should not be in the three digit range. Absolutely not. It’s hideous.

It’d look stunning on Yoongi, though.

You look around, there’s probably one or two people in line, but there’s more than enough coverage from your coworkers to handle the front of the store. You grab the hideous jacket, heading straight to the fitting room where you know Yoongi is hiding from customers.

When you turn the corner into the employee only area, he’s hiding in his usual corner, just out of sight of the camera back there and on his phone. When he looks up to see you come in, he smiles, putting his phone away.

“You need another rack? Didn’t we just switch them?” Your other coworker, Miyeon, questions and you’re quick to shake your head.

“Nope.” You look at Yoongi, holding out the pink monstrosity, “I need you to make my day better and put this on for me.” It’s half a second before anxiety creeps in that he’d call you weird and say no.

But he’s admitted before to trying on women’s clothing back here when there’s no customers, doing full on fashion shows in designer dresses with the rest of the floor team.

He’s even shown you pictures that made you fight the urge to zoom in on his butt and comment.

Which is why he happily takes the jacket from you, slipping it on in an instant and putting his hair down for extra dramatic effect.

“How’s it look?” He grins, doing various dramatic fashion poses for you.

“Absolutely stunning on you, ugly as hell on a hanger.” Miyeon replies, making you hum in agreement.

“I make everything look good.”

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes again, unable to hide the smile he’s caused.

“Anything else? Heels? A dress?”

“You two are weird” Miyeon rolls her eyes with a smirk. Her eyes catch onto the little television screen above the racks of clothing that shows the front of the fitting room. A couple people approach the front, and Miyeon sighs, leaving you both to tend to them.

You watch her interaction with the customers, the slow dread feeling from earlier settling back in.

“You sure you’re okay, y/n?”

Your eyes drop to the floor, taking a deep breath before looking back up at him.

Yoongi is so pretty. His smile is adorable and comforting.

“Just a shit week. I’ll be okay. Thanks for putting on the jacket.”

“You’re welcome.”

You give a small smile back, turning to leave when Miyeon returns.

And that’s the extent of your interaction that night.

But, of course, it doesn’t always just end there. You don’t see him again for three days, schedules always being misaligned. But when you do, he’s stepping out of the fitting room in line of sight from your work area, pink fuzzy jacket on and a stupid grin to go with it, posing like an idiot to make you laugh.

[miniherodesktales]

I'm on vacation at the moment, so decided to look up the Biggles series for the first time, since it is referenced in Red Dwarf and other shows in the UK. I have an interest in children's lietrature and how it's changed over the time.

Prior to this I knew nothing about them. Just hearing the name Biggles gave me the impression that maybe they were quaint Enid Bylton / Famous Five - esq tales. Or maybe like the TinTin adventures. (plus just assumed - accurately - there would outdated themes. There is outdated language and attitudes. I wasn't surprised to hear about that.)

However, going by the GoodRead reviews I was surprised to see that they didn't glamourise war at all. They were gritty and dark, with death being a constant theme. Later reprints removed swearing and references to alcohol; for example, whisky is swapped out for lemonade. (war is ok but underage drinking? No thanks!)

So what's the story?

James Bigglesworth (the names will never not be funny) is a 16 year old, born and raised in India to civil servant parents, fluent in Hindi and Latin with a preference for writing in Hindi.

The first world war begins and James lies about being 17, so he joins the RAF a year underage.

Like so many airmen of the time he receives just a few hours instruction before he's made to fly solo. With only 15 hours of practise he's posted to France.

He sees a few colleagues killed - very quickly - and has many near misses himself. The experience turns him into a jumpy and jaded teenager, smoking and drinking to cope. Later in the series he grows into a cool and calm leader.

The initial books drew on the author's own experience of the war, and contains many accurate details about aviation and the development of its technology. The later books move towards more "adventure".

Anyway, the real reason for this post is that it's easy to see some of Ace in all this - obviously Ace is a mix of different popular heoros - but anyway I think it's easy to see how Rimmer may have shaped this persona built on what he was reading as a kid.

We don't see much of Io in the series, but as discussed before it gives off strong space imperialism vibes and a very suffocating conservative culture.

Rimmer's parents had a very clear plan for what they wanted his life to be like - the plan was that he would be a test pilot like his big brother, John.

I also think the references to Biggles provides a small hint at the conflict in Rimmer's personality. He can be very cowardly when he overthinks a situation, but then brave in other situations. Like shooing away the polymorph from Kryten. He idolises war and successful strategists but is also disgusted when he sees the consequences of fasicism happening right of him. His future self lost his morals as he rubbed shoulders with some of histories worst people, but his present day self was willing to die to avoid becoming that version of himself.

Deep down Rimmer would rather be Biggles than Napoleon, but having courage and morals is built on self-worth and self-confidence, and his parents never gave him those things. However, he does learn it over time although, Nano Rimmer does seem to be a bit of step backwards from the Rimmer who sacrificed himself in series 6 and became Ace in series 7.

In series 10, it was good to see Rimmer save the day by thinking up a strategy that didn't involve sacrificing others as pawns - like in Meltdown.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hii sex witch

im 19 afab and ive never had sex before, i masturbate sometimes but ive never had an orgasm and dont know how to "get it"?.. im generally scared of sex and identified as asexual for a long time but i dont think thats really my deal, im just scared of it. im scared of it being awkward, of my partner not finding me atractive or worse. i dont like how i look naked, and dont imagine anyone ever could. i think my vagina and my boobs look ugly and alien, i preach body positivity and being natural i think all bodies are good no matter how they look but when im faced with the reality of my own body im repulsed by these parts of it. i think something may be broken inside me because i just cant Be Normal about sex, the thought of me having it always makes me stressed and uncomfortable. i want a relationship and i love meeting new people and flirting etc. but when the person i talk to makes any sexual joke or innuendo i get super tense and scared and realise that if things get further they would probably want me to do it... and maybe i could and maybe i even want to but the thought makes me sick with the pressure. this isnt even a question, so i dont know how you could even respond but i dont have anyone i could openly talk about this in my life without feeling super weird or them just brushing it off as "you'll grow up to it" or something, and i just had to say it to someone or else i will eventually explode. hope this all makes sense ❤️‍🩹

hey anon,

come in, get cozy, grab a glass of lemonade, etc. we're gonna be here a minute.

so listen: I swear to GOD this isn't me trying to pull the "you'll grow into it" thing. I am going somewhere different with this I swear. bear with me.

first and foremost, I think the main problem you're experiencing right now is that being 19. I don't mean that in a condescending or belittling way, or to imply that you just don't want to have sex because you're 19. I'm saying that being 19 (and 18, and 20, and 21, and so on) is mostly for being worried about everything and having no idea what's going on. you have to get all that insane anxiety out of your system as early as possible in your adult years so that you can get down to business actually developing a perspective and figuring out what you want to do. I'm not even, like, a LOT older than you but trust me, by the time you're 26 you're going to feel SOOOOO different about things that you don't even realize you have an opinion about right now. when I was 19 I was made pretty much exclusively of anxiety and the cheapest bagels at the grocery store. (eating badly was not helping my anxiety.)

what I'm getting at here is that you're at like a very exciting and terrible formative age when it's the most normal thing in the world to feel like there's something uniquely awful and hideous and unlovable about yourself. when I was 19 the two most important things in the world to me were losing my virginity (lmao) and making sure I never experienced actual emotional intimacy ever because I was sure that if anyone got close enough to really know me they would realize that I was the worst person who ever lived and fundamentally undeserving of human connection. TERRIBLE place to be in; I had a lot of deeply bad and uncomfortable sex because of it.

there's a really easy solution to being terrified of sex, which I wish someone had told me when I was very scared of sex, and it's if having sex sounds like a horrific ordeal you can actually just Not Have Sex. just don't do it. it's actually REALLY easy to not have sex; millions of people do it every single day.

if you like meeting people and flirting, that's awesome! you should do that, having connections and relationships with other people is important. if you don't like sexual jokes and innuendos you can just tell people they make you uncomfortable and ask them not to do that; how they respond is actually a GREAT litmus test for whether or not those are people you should keep hanging out with. if someone isn't able to not make sexual comments about you after you've asked them not to, kick 'em to the curb!

there are tons of people in all kinds of romantic relationships who aren't having sex. that's a perfectly fine and reasonable boundary to set. it can make things a little more complicated, sure, but dating and romance and love are all complicated and messy anyway. again, great way to VERY EFFICIENTLY weed out who is and isn't a suitable potential partner. (it's also fine to not want a partner, either; there's nothing wrong with being a sociable extrovert who doesn't want to have sex.)

there's nothing broken about you for being nervous about the idea of having sex. whether you identify as asexual or not, it's perfectly fine to feel that way. it's completely fine if you change your mind tomorrow or if you feel this way for the rest of your life. and you might! maybe sex will never sound awesome for you, and that's fine! again, tons of people living very good and happy lives every day without having sex! sex isn't a measure of maturity, but knowing yourself well enough to honor your own boundaries and desires is.

I hope a kinder attitude towards your own body can come with time, and I think it will. be gentle with yourself, alright? being 19 is very silly but unfortunately very necessary, and I think you'll really like what comes after if you let yourself relax a little. whatever you feel like right now, you're actually a very normal person, by which I of course mean you have a rich and brilliant mind and will do many quietly wonderful things in your life and will be deserving of every bit of love and joy that comes your way.

also, hey - have you ever seen a therapist about anxiety? I also should have done that when I was 19.