#today is a great day to use logic

[dreamsicle262]

ok y'know what fuck it. here's my take on the skk tomfoolery that's been happening in the current chapter of bsd. it's a little out there but please bear with me here.

first of all, let's talk about the gun chuuya used and the location. he and dazai are in a very secure high end prison for ability users. this means that no one has weapons except for the staff within the complex, which chuuya had slaughtered beforehand and most likely taken the gun from. the gun he has should logically be one that is powerful and pretty much military grade, meaning that if it shot, it'd be to kill.

now let's talk about the distance between him and dazai. he had the gun pressed against his head, as you may know. at that range, if dazai really was shot with an actual bullet, the entire top part of his head would've been blown off, and even if it wasn't, a bullet directly to the head is usually a death sentence anyways, and yet he survived that and three other shots.

so that brings us to the question of what was in the gun's chamber if it wasn't a bullet. this is where this post gets a little hard to explain but i'll try my best. chuuya can control the gravity of anything he touches so hypothetically, if he were to draw his own blood and condense the gravity of it to form a 'bullet,' he could put it into the gun's chamber and then know that after he shot one bullet to make this murder look legit, he could safely shoot dazai in the head with the blood bullet and it probably wouldn't even hurt too much, plus it's blood, so it really does look like he did something there. it's like russian roulette but with which bullets are real and which is fake. i mean, we already have hawthorne with blood bullets so this isn't unlike asagiri to do.

plus, dazai's nullification works on any part of a person's body. if this applies to even their blood, then by faking killing his partner with a false bullet, chuuya has still successfully came into contact with dazai via more indirect means but it would still nullify the vampirism. so yeah, soukoku had another moment where they instantly understood what they needed to do together in order to get out of their mess.

even if this does end up being not correct on some level, i still feel the need to say this: well played asagiri, well played.

[sapsolais]

.

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Clownfall: the Election Cometh

It's a long one, lads. Buckle up, get comfy, but the circus is in town for its final run. Ambient music as you read can be found here or here, take your pick. Get popcorn. Get snacks and water and a blanket.

Are you sitting comfortably?

Wednesday 22nd May

7.12am

Household favourite and queen of our hearts Pippa Crerar of the Guardian (her who did the investigative journalism that revealed PartyGate to the world) reports that UK inflation fell to a mere, paltry 2.3% in April.  The lowest level in three years!  Huzzah! But … still smaller than the decline that was expected. 

Nonetheless, Rishi Sunak and Jeremy Cunt whoops I'm so sorry I meant Cunt haha whoops said it again make a big fuss about how brilliant this news is, and how it shows that they are Good At Maffs after all that trouble with Liz Truss and Kwasi Kwarteng, who defined themselves as being Good At Maffs and then obliterated the economy in a single day.  Remember that! Good times. But hey, look, THIS PM/Grand Vizier combo are great at this! Inflation has fallen! Stop looking at the predicted rate! A fall is still a fall!

Crerar wonders whether people will actually feel better off, though – prices and mortgage rates are still high, after all. Food for thought.

10.04am

Jeremy Hunt is asked on the Today programme whether Sunak will call a general election.

Now, the logic here is that the government is likely to do better in an election if the economy’s improving; which, SunakCunt are now shrieking from the rooftops. So, is now the time? It's a win, and they've had so few of those, but historically people really do like to fall for the right wing = better economy myth... 

BUT – the Tories are doing so very badly in the polls.  Journalists favour the idea of an autumn election.  Tories do better when the weather’s bad, because fewer people go out and vote.

 “Well that’s a matter for the prime minister, it’s not a matter for me,” says Cunt. 

... Well.  Not ruling it out, then? Diddorol.

10.30am

It's Wednesday, aka the date that Tory cabinet ministers have their weekly meeting. They are duly sent the agenda.

There is no mention at all of an election announcement, nor any plan for an election.

Fair enough! 'Twas an idle thought. Plus, it would actually be bad timing from a logistical perspective - David Cameron, Foreign Secretary and Bae of Pigs, is currently flying out to Albania for an important international meeting, and Jeremy Cunt is on TV all day today - ITV next.

12.18pm

Sunak is asked at Prime Minister’s Questions whether he’ll call a general election.  He doesn’t rule it out.

12.56pm

Fun tweet alert!

2.31pm

Pippa Crerar asked Sunak’s press secretary whether he was calling an election.  She refused to comment.

Surely it’s a terrible time to call an election! Everyone hates them!  But suddenly …

A Cabinet meeting is scheduled for 4.15pm.  David Hameron suddenly u-turns in Albania and comes straight back home, his meeting un-met.  Jeremy Cunt cancels his ITV appearance.  The afternoon meeting is cancelled. Number 10 stops responding to journalists.  Manifesto work has stepped up.  Sunak’s chief-of-staff is spotted wearing a suit and tie WHICH IS UNUSUAL.  Senior ministers have spent the last few days doubling down on dividing lines.  And Tory bosses had a meeting this week to discuss how much money they could spend before a summer election.

The UK press sense blood in the water.

3pm

Okay.

There’s something you need to understand:

People suspect Rishi Sunak doesn’t actually want to live in the UK.  He’d prefer to be in California.  He’s here because he’s an MP.

You need to know this to understand this truly historic incident.

Nadine Dorries has produced a good tweet.

...

...

...

No, we all need to sit with this one for a minute

(For the record... to us, that is an excellent joke. But I strongly suspect she wasn't joking and was trying to make a catty accusation instead, which coincidentally appeared like a roast.

Scientists are referring to this as Stopped Clock Syndrome.)

5.17pm

With great dignity, Rishi Sunak stands outside Number 10 and announces a general election on 4 July.

And by “great dignity”, I mean he’s soaked by rain, while “Things Can Only Get Better” plays in the background courtesy of an anti-Tory protestor with a big speaker and a dream; the song adopted by he Labour Party for the 1997 election, where Tony Blair famously won a landslide victory after 18 years of Tory rule. Eventually, the volume of it is raised so high Sunak is, on more than one level, drowned out.

5.37pm

According to Gabriel Pogrund of the Times, Labour can’t believe Number 10 allowed this to happen.

One Labour insider texts: “Umbrellas are woke”

6.06pm

Good tweet alert!

8pm

A later Guardian article reports that Sunak greeted around a hundred Tory activists – still wearing the same rain-soaked trousers from the announcement.

No word at all on why he doesn't have aides capable of fetching him dry trousers. Perhaps those, too, are woke.

8.14pm

A Sky News reporter is at Sunak’s campaign launch.  But, bafflingly, he’s forcibly removed.  Extraordinary scenes

Elanor's Pro Tip: Removing a journalist may not be the best PR move for the start of an election trail.

8.27pm

9.36pm

A GBNews reporter claims that some Tory MPs are trying desperately to replace Sunak as leader in order to call off the general election.  For this to work, they’d need a vote of no confidence before the dissolution of parliament on Thursday 30 May.  Except actually, that would have to happen before the proroguing of parliament on Friday 24 May.

So … this won’t work.  But how very incredible - and hilarious - that they’re trying.

10.39pm

Let's take a look at the evening headlines!

A great start to Sunak’s campaign, with newspapers - including the Tory giant The Telegraph - celebrating the triumphant launch of his campaign:

Well! WHAT a day! Let's see how Thursday goes.

Thursday 23 May

8.00am

The BBC takes a moment to gleefully throw off the shackles of political oppression of the last 12 years to reveal that Rishi Sunak's announcement of a July election, the single most important announcement for a sitting government, the most sensitive and vitally-timed event in their calendar...

Was a total surprise to the rest of the party.

Tory party MPs found out when we did that they were about to have to campaign again. For a snap GE. Three weeks after having just done it for the council elections, in which they experienced the greatest single loss of their councillors in history. Even the damn meeting agenda was fake.

Still. Perhaps this explains the lack of umbrella or trousers.

9.09am

Nigel Farage confirms he will NOT stand at the general election. 

*pause for applause*

That’s because he’s helping Trump get re-elected in the US right now.

*pause for screams*

This is good news for the Tories!  And the rest of Britain, actually (commiserations to America. Please shoot him). Farage’s right-wing populist party - Reform UK - is the spiritual successor to UKIP and the Brexit Party, who’ve been splitting the right-wing vote for years.  Farage is popular; it’s bad news for Reform if he’s not part of their campaign, but simply fantastic news for those of us who think queer folks, women and people of colour deserve human rights.

9.19am

According to BBC News and others, Sunak has hired Isaac Levido, the election strategist behind the Tories’ landslide win in 2019.  Levido knows his stuff, and advised Sunak to stick with an autumn election.

Sunak ignored this advice.  Lol.

9.20am

In the Guardian, Sunak says there WON’T be planes of immigrants flying to Rwanda before the general election.  Good news for those of us who think it’s monstrous to deport immigrants to countries with unsafe governments.  Bad news for Tory voters who were hoping to get racists to vote for them.

Now, this is particularly funny, because promising to deport refugees to Rwanda in spite of overwhelming legal opposition on human rights grounds is probably the single hill that the Tories have chosen to commit genocide on. This bill has been in and out of every court in the land since they promised it in 2019. It's been on again off again more than a tawdry tabloid romance. But, they finally managed to push it through, and the first planes were set to fly in July.

This means! That Sunak's strongest cards going into the election were the drop in inflation, and the Rwanda bill. He could sell it as "In spite of those bleeding heart liberals, we persevered and managed to tenaciously get rid of these browns and thus fulfilled our promise", and the fact that it won't actually affect the immigration numbers wouldn't be clear until after the election. And make no mistake, it is VITAL that those planes fly before any election - quoth one influential Conservative MP on the right of the party to the BBC:

“I know what question you’re going to ask us again and again. "You’ll say we’ve been banging on about Rwanda for years and we’ve only managed to fly one migrant out there - and we paid him to go”.

It took a single day for that gamble to dramatically fail.

Lol. Lmao, even. One might almost say rofl.

9.21am

Sunak is emphasising his own role in managing the economy.

The Guardian’s Rowena Mason points out that it might be better to sell this as a Tory victory rather than a Sunak victory, considering how badly Sunak’s doing as an individual in the polls.

10.45am

I'm obviously giving a lot of attention here to the funniest and most ridiculous stuff, but let’s take a moment to celebrate some genuinely brilliant journalism:

0_o

The whole article’s worth reading. It confirms that at least one more hi-vis wearer was a Tory councillor in disguise (in this case Ben Hall-Evans). Perhaps this is why they started by removing all the real journalists.

12.42pm

Sunak’s campaign takes him to a brewery in Wales!  He attempts some Bonding With The Working Man and asks the workers if they’re excited for the football.

Top tip: if you don’t realise the country you’re in hasn’t qualified for the Euros, maybe don’t even mention the subject.

6.55pm

... here is a new problem. Ish.

As mentioned, three weeks ago, England held local council elections. In that time, the Tories lost over half their councillors; an unprecedented and staggering loss in one event. We are all still bathing in the schadenfreude.

But, many of those then left the party (probably fairly, actually - monsters though Tories are, that cannot have been fun.) But, the way politics in the UK works is that when you vote, you don't vote for the party - you vote for your local representative, and then it's a numbers game as to which party gets to rule. This means, with this sudden last-minute possibly-impulsively-declared-by-one-soggy-madman election now six weeks away, those candidates all need replacing so that the Tories will have a shot at getting the numbers they need to form a majority government.

Channel 4’s Paul McNamara reports that Conservative HQ have emailed asking for candidates in almost 100 seats.  The deadline’s tight for this – and apparently, joining the lengthening list of people who weren't informed of this stupid election plan, Tory associations are livid at being left so unprepared.

Now, a lot of these seats are Labour strongholds, so you don’t necessarily need more than a token Tory candidate for them. Phew! A great relief.

But some of them are actually good Tory seats. Uh oh!  Basildon, Bury St Edmunds, Wellingborough and Rushden …  It’s a bad hit to the Tories to have so little time to find good candidates for these seats.

8.59pm

Labour launch a campaign video.  It’s long, but the message is, “Remember life before the Tories got into power?  Wasn’t it BRILLIANT?”

And to prove how great 2009 was, they’ve included a clip of David Tennant’s Dr Who saying “I don’t want to go.”

Lol.

9.57pm

Filmmaker Richard Cubitt jokily suggests he could stand as a Tory candidate, and immediately defect to Labour as soon as possible once elected.

I don’t know if the deadline’s closed, but I am now speaking to the chat. Lads: the time will never be better. Do it. Tell the Tories you'll stand for them. Immediately defect. You have the opportunity to do the funniest thing. Be the rot in the barrel. The time is now.

ANYWAY. Oh boy. Day one of campaigning was quite bad. Ah well! Onwards and upwards for Wali Heb Broli. Let's see what Friday brings.

And of course: the losses are staggering (100 candidates!), but it could be worse.

At least it's not senior MPs.

Friday 24 May

7.00am

Over 70 MPs confirm they will not be standing for re-election.

7.35am

It’ll be lovely to see this election get rid of some truly awful Tories.  But no need to wait that long!  John Redwood stands down.  I haven't mentioned him before, but let's look at his clownface eggshell.

He opposed reducing the age of consent for homosexuality in 1994 and 1999, he voted to keep Section 28 in 2003, he opposed same sex marriage, he voted to reintroduce the death penalty in 1988, 1990 and 1994, he’s argued against Greta Thunberg over the UK’s climate emissions.

Although English, he became Secretary of State for Wales in 1993, and at a Tory conference, had to mime badly to the Welsh national anthem which he hadn’t bothered learning.  In 1995, he cheated Wales out of a £100 million grant by returning it unspent to the treasury, so it could go back to England.

So, John – if by some fantastically rare chance you’re somehow reading this – it’s wonderful to see you step down.  I wish you a very warm fuck you.  And I hope the rest of your life is absolutely horrible and filled with immeasurable pain. Kisses.

7.58am

Vicky Spratt of the i newspaper announces that, with an election announced, the Renters’ Reform won’t pass.

This is a big deal, actually - this was a rare good promise in the Tories’ 2019 manifesto to protect renters by ending no-fault evictions.  A good promise!  With cross-parliamentary support, only slowed as much as it was because most Tory backbenchers are landlords and so tried to block it. But the fighting raged on, and it was finally agreed.

And now it’s broken.  Wasting months of work by stakeholders, and thus forming another election promise that would have sailed through if only the election hadn't been called for July.

8.09am

Jeremy Corbyn – remember him? Former Labour leader, who was expelled from the Labour party in 2020 – confirms he’ll be standing as an independent.  He’s continued to be a member of Labour despite being an independent MP – but standing against Labour in an election means he’ll have his membership revoked too.

9.26am

So where are we at? How do you reckon the normal Tories in the party are faring? Do you think they're positive of a win? Do you think they expect to lose?

Great Guardian article here:

Highlights - one government minister happened to bump into his equivalent opposition member, and immediately thrust his official folder towards them, saying, “You might as well have this now.”

Another Tory MP hugged a Labour colleague and cast their arm around the room.  “Good luck.  This is all yours.”

One Tory backbencher was asked if it was a good idea to call an election.  “It’s a disaster. I can’t understand it.”

Even when they’re being optimistic, the Tories seem a little glum.  One long-standing MP said: “Of course I’m going to fight it, I don’t believe in just giving up like the prime minister has obviously decided to.”

A former minister raises an interesting point.  It’s not long, after all, since the Tories suffered those major defeats at the local council elections.  That's impacted the number of candidates, of course - but, local canvassing is largely done, on all parts of the political spectrum, but activist volunteers.

That loss was three weeks ago. If you were a volunteer who just spent weeks knocking on the doors of your neighbours and community, trying to convince them to vote for the dead horse, and then lost – maybe you won’t feel like hitting the streets again so soon. Maybe you'd prefer to be able to meet your neighbours' eyes when you bump into them in the bread slicing queue at Morrisons.

Some MPs have even admitted they won’t be cancelling holiday plans to fight the election.  On top of that, there's over 70 MPs that have already confirmed they’re quitting and won’t be seeking re-election!!! Absolute scenes.

Interestingly, some anti-Sunak Tories report frustration.  They reckon they were close to calling a vote of no-confidence, in the hopes of replacing Sunak with a different leader.  No idea if this is true – and if true, whether Sunak knew it. But given the panicked speed at which it seems to have been called...

11.08am

The campaign takes Rishi Sunak to the Titanic Quarter, to be interviewed by Belfast Live.

Elanor's Pro Tip: if you’re the leader of a failing political party, maybe don’t let journalists interview you on a site named after history’s most famous sinking ship.

11.57am

How’s the campaign going, Rishi?

Oh, Rishi. Looks like someone else is not meeting anyone's eyes in the bread-slicing queue.

1.12pm

Politics UK reports that 75 Tory MPs are now standing down at the election – the same number of Tories who stood down ahead of the 1997 election.

2.49pm

Sunak’s campaign takes him on board an aeroplane.

Elanor's Pro Tip: if you’re the leader of a failing political party, maybe don’t be photographed in front of an exit sign.

7.07pm

MICHAEL GOVE ANNOUNCES HE’S STANDING DOWN AS AN MP!

I could honestly use that gif like seventeen times in this write up. You can all thank me for my restraint in choosing just one.

The 79th Tory to do so at this election – an all-time record exodus.  Hey gang, would you like to see some familiar names joining him in this?

Theresa May

Sajid Javid

Dominic Raab

Matt Hancock

Ben Wallace

Nadhim Zahawi.

It’s just … not a great sign for the party, is it? That so many prominent MPs don’t reckon it’s worth sticking around.

7.50pm

Hey, remember those parody videos of Hitler getting angry with funny subtitles?  Someone made a good Sunak one:

10.48pm

The Guardian’s Kiran Stacey reports that Sunak will retreat from the campaign trail, spending the next day at home.

Honestly... that's probably best. Let him recover from the bread excitement.

10.50pm

We round off the day with Andrea Leadsom announcing she too is standing down as an MP. Bye, bitch.

WHAT A DAY! Still, Saturday will probably be better.

Saturday 25 May

12am

New episode of Doctor Who drops! It contains Welsh faeries. I later write a post explaining this. You're all welcome. Back to the circus.

10.06am

Good tweet alert!

11.14am

Keir Starmer promises to lower the voting age from 18 to 16 if he wins the election.

2.43pm

Hey remember how David Hameron was supposed to be in Albania? And actually went there? And then had to come back because of Rishi's totally-planned-for election announcement?

The Mirror reports that David Cameron spent £60,000 of taxpayers’ money getting to Albania for that trip.  He was there for 89 minutes, before he had to come back in light of the general election announcement.

This means it cost the country £674 a minute for Cameron to be in Albania for about as long as it takes to watch The Lion King.

6.14pm

Labour and the Tories put candidates forward for 650 seats in a general election.

Of course, that's not quite all of them. The Times’ Patrick Maguire understands that Labour have only 13 candidates left to select, which is pretty good.  The Tories are missing slightly more than that. 

They need to find around 190.

(The number is rising. Chat, you know what to do.)

9.29pm

According to the Telegraph, Theresa May has said if she was still PM she would have used an umbrella to declare the election.

She probably would have, too.

10.11pm

Now then!!! Gather round boys and girls and all the rest!

Remember: the election was called based upon the following main cards in Sunak's hand:

The Rwanda bill

Inflation falling

The Renter's Reform Bill

Inflation fell, but not by as much as it should have. The Rwanda plan fell through a day later. The election itself has blocked the Renter's Reform bill.

Rishi needs a new set of promises stat, in order to shore up votes from his most important bastions of support. What can he offer?

The evening brings the answer!

At 10.11pm - note the time - in spite of having taken the day off, Sunak promises mandatory national service for every 18 year old if he wins the election.  Either a year-long army placement, or a weekend a month volunteering for a year.

Sounds like a good pledge, if you’re hoping to motivate 18-year-olds to vote against you.

10.16pm

The Financial Times’ Jim Pickard reveals that the National Citizen Service (David Cameron’s legacy project) had its funding slashed by two-thirds in a 2022 review of government youth funding - when the chancellor was Rishi Sunak.

Five minutes.  That’s how long it took a journalist to melt Sunak’s new pledge.

Still; Tories never let facts get in the way.

10.27pm

Politics UK reports that leaked documents suggest teenagers would be jailed for refusing this national service.

11.47pm

Sunak's bad ideas generator works hard, but the meme makers of the internet work harder:

Still. Sunday is a day of rest! Hopefully Sunday will be better.

Sunday 26 May

9.50am

Let’s check the Sunday tweets.

Starting to think whoever is in charge of optics for Rishi Sunak may be a Labour plant.

10.21am

Fantastic tweet alert:

I Agree With Gabby

3pm

And then... PLOT TWIST!!!

FT’s Lucy Fisher reports that Sunak’s national service pledge - including assigning up to 30,000 18-year-olds to the military - was rejected this week by one of his own defence ministers.

Defence personnel minister Andrew Murrison warned of a hit to morale, headcount and resources if “potentially unwilling national service recruits” were introduced alongside Britain’s professional armed forces.

EVEN THE ARMY DON'T WANT THIS.

6.47pm

And then:

Incredible story from Gabriel Pogrund of the Times.

St Paul’s School, if you haven't heard of it, is an expensive and famous private school in England somewhere (I forget where and don't care).  As with other private schools, they’d be subject post-election to a Labour plan to remove their VAT exemption.

Tory MP Greg Hands took matters into his own Greg hands, and messaged the school’s parents’ WhatsApp group to try and drum up anti-Labour sentiment.

I can see the logic. These are parents with money, who have chosen to send their children to a private school that often means an easy track into politics generally and the Tory party specifically. I see why he thought he was safe.

Tumblrs, he was not safe.

Parents intervened, complaining about Hands spamming the chat, and claiming his use of the chat was “inappropriate”.

One parent messaged: “Can we stop assuming everyone is a Tory in this group.  A return to more morality, less corruption and more social conscience in British politics is not something to oppose necessarily.”

Another expressed that some parents will “feel it is hard to defend private schools being vat exempt.”

Ouch. Swing and a miss, Greg Hands.

Anyway. New week, new campaigning. I am writing this on Tuesday, and so our tale is nearly at an end for now; so let's see what happened on Monday.

Monday 27 May (Yesterday)

7.40am

Britain's teenagers respond to the national service plan. I love this tweet and the video it reposts:

And here, for your viewing pleasure, is the video:

8.17am

Tory MP Steve Baker (more on him later) actually tweets a public criticism of Sunak’s national service plan.  You might be thinking "Well yes, obviously"! But no! For you see, when approaching elections, parties need to be united. Divided parties generally find it harder to win elections.

Naughty Steve.

8.41am

Foreign Office Minister Anne-Marie Trevelyan, having seen the absolute shambles of Sunak’s campaigning, wakes up this fine Monday morn and invites him to hold her beer.

Appearing on Times Radio, she’s asked whether the parents of teenagers could be prosecuted if the teens refuse to take up national service.

And she doesn’t rule it out.

NO BUT WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT ARE YOU DOING ANNE-MARIE. IS THIS YOUR FIRST DAY OUT OF THE HOUSE.

Parents are NOT prosecuted for any wrongdoing of their ADULT CHILDREN.  How do you not understand this basic legal concept. The answer to that question was “no”!  You say “no” because it makes your party more likely to be elected, and you say “no” because the answer is no.

Oh dear. What a gaffe, as the papers say. Gosh, I really hope Anne-Marie Trevelyan’s gaffe stays contained.

8.56am

The Telegraph duly reports that parents of 18-year-olds might be fined if their children refuse national service.

Anne-Marie Trevelyan’s gaffe did not stay contained.

10.55am

Looks like the Tories are unhappy that the press revealed that Sunak took a day off from campaigning.

But that’s okay, they have a new strategy!  Reported by Politico, they’ve decided to suggest that Keir Starmer is too old to be a good Prime Minister.

They called him “weary” yesterday afternoon;

Tory Party Chair Richard Holden says it’s “bizarre” for Starmer to rest at home the day before a speech (but not for Rishi to - ? You know what, never mind);

A Tory aide tells the Sun that Starmer should be dubbed “Sir Sleepy” (what a Zinger, as those conscripted into national service say);

Another Tory aide calls Starmer “Sleepy Keir” according to the FT.

Keir Starmer is 61 years old.

11.17am

Let's check Tory candidate numbers!!!

Now last we looked it was 190, but obviously, as this is possibly their most urgent priority, they've been working flat out and recruiting across the land and so they have, fair play, managed to reduce that number.

The Spectator therefore reports that the Tories have 12 days to select 160 candidates.  Would you like to see the maths?

This means, on average, they need to select one candidate every 100 minutes.  Which is slightly less time than it takes to watch Toy Story 3.

#ChatYouKnowWhatToDo

12.41pm

The FT’s Lucy Fisher reports that Tory HQ has accidentally sent out an email criticising Tory MPs for failing to campaign, and warning of financial concerns in some seats.

Cannot stress this enough: even if the Tory campaign was going really well and they were predicting a landslide their way, this would be a terrible blow.

5.02pm

The Mirror reports that Tory MP Steve Baker is on holiday in Greece.  That’s pretty irresponsible, isn’t it?  What does Baker have to say for himself?

"The Prime Minister told everyone we could go on holiday and then called a snap election. So I've chosen to do my campaign work in Greece."

… this is the greatest Tory campaign in history.

(And once again... when exactly did you decide to do this, Rishi?)

5.15pm

In an absolutely baffling move whose motives I still cannot entirely fathom, Tory MP Lucy Allan - a repugnant, malignant liar of a woman who once altered an email from a constituent so she could claim it contained a death threat against her - is suspended by the party, for telling voters in her ward to vote for Reform UK instead of the Tories.

...

...

...

...wwwhyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

6.18pm

Good tweet alert! Here's political journalist Jonn Elledge:

6.30pm

Meanwhile, a Tory chooses to contact journalist Theo Usherwood over WhatsApp, criticising the election strategist Isaac Levido:

Now this is particularly interesting, because Levido is the guy who managed to swing the last GE to BlowJo, even though Labour were riding high on Corbyn. And I don't know, maybe he is actually shit at this and all that was luck.

I just... wouldn't have said he was the reason for this one going the way it is. Necessarily.

Finally, let's finish off Monday with a last good tweet:

10.06pm

***

That's all for now, folks! Thank you for reading, enjoy the circus playing out this week!

[princessbrunette]

when did you know you loved me? pt.4/4 ♡

it was rare bunny!reader and rafe got a day off like this. one where the kook princess’s boyfriend wasn’t running off on business, dragging her along or leaving her to run her own personal errands — like getting her nails done or shopping. today, the two of them relaxed on rafe’s boat in the hazy june sunshine. bunny stares off over the water, pondering..

you’re snapped from your thoughts when rafe arrives at your side, giving your ass a little swat and grab the way he always did as you looked over the ledge across the water.

“you good, kid?” he enquires casually as his hand slides up your back to grasp your shoulder, hooking his sunglasses back into his shirt.

“mhm, just thinking.” you muse, leaning into his side a little. you always went a bit brainless around rafe — it was second nature. he did the thinking, it was his job as a provider — well, that’s what he’d tell you anyway, and he’d drilled it into your head enough times for you to remember it.

“m’yeah? thinking about what?” he converses. he’d always get worried when you looked a little too pensive. rafe was an overthinker like that, the nagging voice in the back of his head telling him not to let you think too hard, because you’d uncover all his flaws and leave him. though you knew that could never be the case, rafe had some unpacked abandonment issues that often sat at the surface.

“us.” you hum simply, and his hand slides off your shoulder.

“well what — what are… why?” he struggles his word his concern, a frown forming between his brows.

“jus’ that i love you a lot, and i was thinking about how much i love you.” you shrug, not taking in the edge in his concerned tone. he relaxes a little, nodding though you weren’t looking his way as he draws in a long breath.

“right, yeah… yeah.” he plays it cool, scratching at his cheek before stepping away in the direction of the mini bar, deciding he needed a drink to take the edge off. “well, daddy loves you too, yeah?”

the casual assurance in his tone makes you bite your lip, gaze snapping over to him as he wanders away — and you speak once more, only wanting to prolong the time spent by his side.

“when did you know that you loved me rafey?” it’s a demure request, spoken hopefully through pouty lips and batting lash extensions. he spins around, blinking at you a few times before shrugging his shoulder.

“look, uh — i don’t know. i just did, alright?” he turns his mouth down like he hadn’t given it any thought and your face falls. you forget rafe wasn’t like you. he was a man of logic. fact over feelings (thats what he’d tell people, anyway.) he didn’t have time to ponder such things.

“oh.” you whisper, nodding your head. it wasn’t a big deal. you just wished he would gush over you the way you did him sometimes. he licks his lips, hesitance in his body language when he turns away once more this time, wishing he never saw that disappointment on your face at the way he brushed you off. he was still trying to get used to the whole being open with your feelings thing. his father hadn’t exactly lead by great example.

he cracks open a beer, and five minutes later he’s lounging on the white couch out on the deck, an arm strewn along the back of the seat and the other holding the bottle, reaching out towards you to gesture you over to him.

“come sit with me, dunno why you’re so far away.” he welcomes you, and you quietly pad over in your pink bikini, never once shying away from the unabashed way he watches your body move towards him. “mm. looking good.” he comments quietly before you’re climbing onto the couch and snuggling up to his side. there was no ‘thanks daddy’ or glossy kisses being pressed into him like usual, you were pensive, distant, thoughtful. he knew he’d brushed you off and you were trying so hard to seem like it hadn’t phased you, bless your little bunny heart. after a sigh, the kook begins to speak.

“it was after the whole thing with me getting arrested. you know the… the thing with the sheriff.” he relays, staring ahead over at the water even when you turned your head to gaze at him, blinking slowly in relaxed confusion as to what he was talking about.

“i…i wanted people to respect me, you know? like- like i had proven that i was willing to do anything to protect the people i care about. anything. enough to get me sent to fuckin’ jail, right?” he rambles, before shaking his head with his tongue in his cheek, thinking. you stay quiet, curious as to where this was going. you wanted to give him space to open up.

“but like…ahh, i don’t know. when i got out, people…people didn’t wanna hang with me anymore. i used to be that guy, right like — like everyone wanted to talk to the rafe cameron but after i got bailed out i… people were scared of me. thought i was some… violent, unhinged creature like… like i was some killer.” he squints, shaking his head in disagreement.

a few moments pass as he gathers his thoughts, before he speaks once more, this time glancing at you.

“so a little while after that i was down at the club, you know just… just tryna socialise again, blow off some steam. shit, i even told everyone that beers were on me, you know? free for everyone at the club. went back to go get my golf club, came back n’everyone had left. clearly they still saw me as some kinda monster.”

whilst you was unclear on why he was telling the story, you remembered clearly this time how hard it was for rafe to drag himself back up. he wouldn’t talk about how hard things were, and sure — eventually things had blown over and he was the life of every party once more, but you remembered the shift in atmosphere clearly. it was strange.

“uh…” he clears his throat. “so yeah i uh, i come back and you’re there, right? you’re just sat there by your self at the table… and shit you… you just looked so happy to see me,” he chuckles, shaking his head fondly at the memory. “like, i had left for two damn minutes and you were still happy to see me. you didn’t even — even care that everyone else had left… and that’s real ride or die shit, okay like — someone… someone who’s not gonna just up and leave you when shit gets tough like sarah did with my dad. nah, nah you stuck around. s’when i knew i wanted to put a fuckin’ rock on that little finger.” he takes your hand suddenly, holding it between the two of you like he’s envisioning the ring on your second to last finger, taking a moment to indulge in the fantasy.

you’re grinning ear to ear, understanding the significance of the story now as you flutter your eyelashes.

“rafey…” you coo softly and he shrugs, his wall fighting to come back up.

“yeah, well. you wanted your story, there’s your story.” he brushes it off casually, but even his lips curl up a little into a fulfilled smirk, catching your gaze with an unspoken awe.

“guess what, i loved you the second i saw you so i win.” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, pulling you into his chest.

“yeah? shit i didn’t know it was a competition.” he banters lightheartedly over your giggles, his cold heart thawing at the sound.

[reidrum]

castling | s.r.

A/N: another deeply self indulgent hurt comfort angst who’s surprised…i wrote this kinda fast so if it’s messy and cheesy sorry :/

cw: gn!reader (pls lmk if i missed something that doesn’t make it gn), hurt comfort, mentions of depression, ambiguous sadness, trivialization of chess, inaccurate chess jargon?, spencer is a darling

summary: in which reader finds it hard to open up and communicate their feelings with spencer, so he comes up with an idea to help

wc: 1.4k

not proofread sry

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

_______________________________________________

It started during a game of chess, when Spencer was showing you different special moves.

“It’s called castling, the idea is that you move the king two spaces towards the rook and then switch their places to allow more protection for your king than if it was in the center.”

“Why would you want to move the king towards the outside, that seems counterintuitive.”

“Smart girl, that’s a good question,” he says fondly, “It’s kind of a last ditch effort in a sense, the rook is essentially expendable but the castling moves the king out of the line from key pieces like the other king and queen.”

“So, it’s like a rescue mission.”

He smiles, “Like a rescue mission.”

You smile back and continue with your next move. Spencer watches you in earnest as you deliberate the best plan of attack, even though he knows he’s gonna let you win by the end anyway.

“How was your day today?” He watches your demeanor change quickly, your shoulders sagging slightly and your eyebrows furrowing. He knew the answer, he’s a great observant and even more so when it comes to you.

“It was…fine.”

“Just fine?” he challenges, moving his bishop.

You nod and move your knight. You’re waiting for him to move his next piece when you realize he’s not looking at the board anymore.

Looking up you see hazel eyes staring right back at you, “Sweetheart,”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He sighs, “You know,” he moves his pawn, “this isn't the first time that you’ve had a hard time communicating with me how you feel.”

A deep sigh leaves you now, it had always been a struggle for you to show emotion so openly to those you love, mainly Spencer. You just didn’t want to worry him with the throes of your mind, and while Spencer appreciated the sentiment he reminded you repeatedly that he’s there for you through it all and just really wants you to take advantage of that.

“I just want to help you, angel.” he says softly, “I can’t do that if you don’t let me in. You don’t even have to tell me what’s wrong, just that something is wrong.”

Tears well up in your eyes, “I know Spence. I—It’s just, saying out loud that I’m—whatever—makes it real. A—And then you get so worried and I get more anxious—“

“Hey. It’s my job to worry about you. Because I love you,” he places his hands on yours, “But, I was thinking what if we had a code word or something, just a single word, and you can say it or text me or anything and I’ll know that you’re not feeling well.”

Your face softens at his proposal. The irony you face is that your brain has convinced you healing can be done alone, that if you’re the one who fucked up the road you should be the one to repair it. While you know logically healing is more effective when you have support, it doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept the help you need, that Spencer feels you deserve.

“I think…that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah?” he replies, “Do you want to pick the word?”

You think about it for a few minutes. You don’t want to do a silly word like banana or chicken, you want something that maybe doesn’t sound serious but would still convey the intent of the code word.

“Does castling work?” you offer softly.

Spencer’s face morphs into something you can’t quite decipher, but to him it’s a mix of adoration, love, and pure empathy for you. He’s just so touched by the fact you want to use that word, after just discussing the significance of that move. It’s an honor that you trust him enough to be your protecting rook.

“Yeah, that’s perfect angel.”

You give a small nod, “Check.”

___

You knew he wouldn’t judge you, that’s the whole reason you came up with this system. It felt like an emergency contact, which it was, but in a “How bad is too bad before I call?” type of way.

Laid down in your bed, you stared at the glow of your phone with your messages with Spencer open. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, daring you to make a move.

Nothing even really happened today, it was just one of those periods where you were in a funk. The voices that lingered in your brain fed you disguised truths and cynicism, and it was hard to feel afloat with support when you couldn’t even tell what was pulling you down.

It didn’t matter though, your tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes amongst the disarray of your room which satirically matched the chaos in your mind were proof enough that maybe, you weren’t okay.

In this moment it would be stupidly easy to ignore it all and wallow in your own sorrow—Spencer was away on a case and you didn’t know when he was coming back.

So in a leap of faith, or perhaps a lapse in judgment, your thumbs twiddle a message out and press send.

castling

You toss your phone aside and try to avoid thinking about it. He’s probably busy, they’re on a case so he’s probably drawing out the geographical maps or maybe he’s on a raid or maybe he’s—DING.

Cautiously grabbing your phone, you slide the notification.

I’m on the plane, going to land in about an hour or so. I need to make one stop and then I’ll come straight to you, okay?

You stare through the blurriness of your eyes caused by your tears, the words blending together. Before the guilt of texting him and making him aware of your depressed state sinks in, another text comes through.

I love you. See you soon, angel.

Another choked sob releases from your throat, and you put the phone down before any more emotions try to infiltrate you. At some point you end up falling asleep on the bed, your body curled in on itself from the lack of warmth a nice blanket or Spencer could’ve provided.

You’re only stirred awake when you feel a soothing sensation on your head, long nimble yet intentional fingers sifting through your hair. You attempt to open your eyes through the thin crust it’s formed from crying so much, and you’re squinting for the first few moments of vision before registering the human in front of you.

“Hi honey.” Spencer whispers softly as you come to.

“Spence…when did you…”

“Just a couple minutes ago,” the hand in your hair comes to rest on your jaw, “How are you feeling?”

Tired eyes finally meet his brown ones and find nothing but reassurance and concern.

Oh. You’ve worried him now.

The last string of resolve snaps as your face crumbles in and you mutter out apologies mixed in with sniffles and sobs. Spencer moves from his knelt position in front of you to slide in next to you on the bed. He gingerly gathers you in his arms and tucks you into his side whispering it’s okay and you’re safe and i’m here.

After a few long minutes your breathing evens out. “You came.” you sniffled.

He pulls back to look at you with watered eyes, “You called. I’m so proud of you.”

You mumble under your breath, “I didn’t even do anything.”

Spencer shakes his head and tucks you right back in place, feeling the floppy fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, “I know a version of you that would’ve held it all in by yourself. Thank you for letting me be here for you.”

You turn your head into his chest further, letting the hot tears and snot stain his nice button up. His hands rub trails up and down your back, his head bent down to your ear whispering sweet nothings to you. With Spencer delicately taking your defenses down maybe you can finally admit to yourself that you were just too soft for all of it.

“Where did you have to stop by?” you wonder.

He smiles and readjusts you against his body, “I picked up Thai food,” “And some candy, sour of course. And there may be a Snoopy stuffie as well because it reminded me of you.”

You feel a different weight on your heart, not one that’s constricting but one that’s embracing, comforting. In a life where you’ve rarely felt taken care of, or even being worthy of that care, you know with certainty that Spencer would never let you go a day without knowing how much love and care you deserve.

[zweiginator]

need more of the patrick and tashi x tashi's inexperienced roommate i'm going feral like i need them to corrupt her in every possible way

i see you i hear you im with you.

cuz you have had sex before. but not good sex. you lost your virginity to a guy you met freshman year of college and that was all you knew. vanilla, missionary sex that lasted maybe five minutes. six if you count 'foreplay'.

but after what happened with patrick and tashi--you're addicted. and they want to corrupt you. tashi makes patrick touch himself the next day when you're in class. lists out ideas of what he can do to you to see his reactions. everything sounded good to him. but the way his eyes rolled back when tashi mentioned teaching you how to suck his cock--she knew she had a winner.

"perfect." tashi said. "sounds like the most logical step anyway."

"you think she'll want to?" patrick asked, catching his breath. tashi found a washcloth, cleaned the sticky cum from his stomach.

"course she will. she became quite the little slut for us."

they didn't know you dreamt of them. touched your aching little pussy almost every day, too shy to ask them for more, but crossing your fingers there was more to come.

patrick was set to leave in a few days, and you were worried that it was a one-time thing.

but when you got back to your dorm room, it felt like déjà vu, the look they were giving you.

and you were so obedient. always so willing to answer their questions or please them. they adore you. you’re so sweet; they crave you.

“how would you like to learn something new today?” in reality, tashi didn’t know if it would be new. she sort of just assumed you had never given head before.

“like what?” you sat your backpack down, sitting on your bed.

“you ever sucked a cock?” patrick said it in a more lewd manner than tashi would’ve preferred—but it got the point across.

you shook your head. i mean, you almost had. once before. but you never understood why anyone would want to. that was, until you were sitting on patrick’s face. until you watched how he lapped you up, moaned into your cunt and pushed you closer than you thought was even fucking possible. when you turned your head and looked at his cock, how strained it was—god, you wanted to see it. wanted to stroke it and feel how heavy he would be against your tongue. how his breath would hitch and his hands would find your face to grab onto.

“do you want to?” patrick asked, looking at tashi.

“yes.” it was immediate. they smirked at each other. they had corrupted you, made you a dumb little slut for them.

“c’mere.” patrick motioned to you. he sat on the edge of tashi’s bed.

“get on your knees in front of him. don’t worry, we’ll go slow.” tashi said it like she was an extension of her boyfriend. in reality, she was. maybe a part of her felt like this was a release for her. a way for her to fuck you vicariously through patrick’s cock.

you did as she said. patrick’s hands stroked your hair. his thumb pressed against your lips and he told you to open up. that this would act as practice.

“let me feel how you suck on them.”

so you sucked his fingers. took one and then two and eventually three. swirled your tongue around them.

“hallow your cheeks. when it’s my cock you gotta try and be gentle. the teeth can hurt.”

you nodded, suckling harder. suctioning and swirling your tongue. patrick was getting so hard. he pulled his fingers out; a long string of your spit tethered you together.

“i want you naked.” his pretty irises were hidden by lust-blown pupils and you obeyed him. he was hypnotic.

tashi kissed your shoulder as she pulled your shirt off. she helped you with your shorts, and then your panties. she felt how nervous you were, and tilted your chin to look at her.

“don’t worry. you’ll do great. start slow. he’s big.”

you hadn’t thought about the size of him. and as patrick pulled his boxers down and his cock slapped against his toned abdomen, your hands shook.

“here.” tashi grabbed your wrist, spat in your hand. “stroke him. touch him everywhere. he likes when you play with his balls. brush your thumb against this part right here.” tashi ran her thumb over the sensitive crown of patrick’s cock. he whined.

you copied her. “like this?”

she nodded. “good. now stroke him up and down. add more spit if you need.”

you used both hands. spat on him and rubbed his balls. they were velvety; he was so soft and sensitive down there. he twitched and bucked his hips and rolled his head back when you tightened your grip and went faster, faster.

you watched him so intently, trying to see what he liked. he liked it all—but tashi was right. he loved when you played with his balls. so you did it more and more. jerked him faster. used the hot beads of precum that dribbled out of him to make him wetter and wetter.

“now put it in your mouth.” tashi ordered. she was hypnotized—addicted to ordering you around. to dominating her boyfriend without even fucking touching him.

when the head of his cock pushed into your mouth, he groaned. it was a wet, carnal disgusting groan. because he knew his was the first cock to go into your pretty little mouth. and your lips were so stretched around him, so red and wet with spit and precum.

“oh my god.” patrick and tashi said it at the same time.

you stroked what you couldn’t fit into your mouth, but you suctioned and touched his balls and did exactly what they taught you to. even looked patrick right in the eye even though yours were watering.

“good girl. good fucking girl.”

it felt so good to be praised by him. by both of them. you smiled and pulled off his cock and he looked so dejected. he wanted more. but jesus, your smile was so pretty.

“what are you doin-“ he gathered your hair in his hands.

“tashi said you like when i touch you down there.”

you couldn’t even say balls.

and then you sucked them into your mouth and patrick almost screamed. his knuckles were white as he gripped tashi’s baby pink sheets. he was sure he was sweating so hard, dripping onto them.

“fuck yes—“

tashi nodded, leaning forward to pull your hair back. she whispered in your ear.

“he’s going to cum soon. you gonna swallow it?”

you hummed, his pressing a kiss to his balls. licking up his shaft, you nodded.

“good.”

as soon as you reached the tip, you suckled on him, stroking him hard and fast and with a desperate fervor you had never felt before. you needed to make them so proud.

patrick came down your throat; he didn’t even have time to warn you. it was hot and sticky in your mouth but you swallowed it. and you showed them, as tashi held patrick’s head and kissed his forehead, talking him through his orgasm. his breathing was heavy and shallow and tashi listened to his heartbeat as patrick tucked you under his arm. he wouldn’t say it to tashi explicitly but he liked to think you were both his girls.

[mya-valentine]

Behind Locked Doors

Synopsis: After a rare bad day leaves the usually cheerful and outgoing reader hiding away in their shared room, Law uses his powers to get inside, only to find them struggling with their emotions. Concerned and out of his element, Law awkwardly makes a fool of himself in an attempt to cheer them up, showing a softer, more vulnerable side to his usually stoic demeanor.

It had been a rough day. You weren’t even sure what had triggered it, but by the time the day ended, all you wanted was to hide away in your shared room. Normally, your bright and outgoing personality filled the corridors of the Polar Tang, lifting the spirits of everyone aboard. You were the cheerful heartbeat of the crew, always knowing just how to make someone laugh or turn a bad day around. But today, you couldn’t even muster the energy to put on a smile for yourself.

Shutting the door behind you, you locked it and collapsed on the bed. Tugging a pillow over your face, you groaned into it, wishing the world would just disappear for a while. It wasn’t like you to shut down like this, and part of you felt guilty for not being your usual self. Still, something deep inside weighed you down, and you couldn’t quite shake it.

After some time passed, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. It wasn’t surprising when Law's voice came from the other side of the door. “[Name]? Are you in there?” His tone was neutral, as always, but you could detect a hint of concern.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The weight on your chest felt too heavy, and even responding seemed like too much effort.

You heard the jiggling of the door handle as Law attempted to open it. When he realized it was locked, there was a pause, followed by the faintest of sighs.

"Room."

In an instant, the telltale sound of his ability activating reached your ears, and before you knew it, Trafalgar D. Water Law appeared in the room with you. His sharp eyes immediately swept over the scene—your form curled up on the bed, the pillow partially obscuring your face, and the heavy atmosphere in the room. His brows knitted together in worry.

"[Name]..." He moved closer, kneeling by the bed. "What’s going on? Why didn’t you answer?"

You groaned softly but didn’t lift the pillow. "I’m fine, Law. Just… not feeling great today. Can you go?"

"Not feeling great?" he repeated, skepticism clear in his voice. "You're never like this. You always try to cheer up everyone else, but now you're hiding in here, not telling me what’s wrong?" His voice softened at the end, filled with a kind of concern that he didn’t always express so openly.

Law wasn’t great at emotions. He was all about logic, plans, and cool-headedness, but when it came to you, there was a different side of him that few got to see. He cared, even if he didn’t always know how to show it.

"Seriously, it’s nothing. Just a bad day." You shifted the pillow slightly, your voice coming out muffled.

Law stared at you for a moment, frustration bubbling up inside him. He hated seeing you like this—someone so full of life, suddenly dimmed. He wasn’t going to let you stay like that.

Suddenly, without a word, he stood up. You peeked out from under the pillow, watching as Law walked over to the far side of the room. He started rummaging through a nearby cabinet, pulling out random objects. A stethoscope, a chart, a spare hat. Then he started to... juggle?

You blinked in disbelief. Law—Trafalgar D. Water Law, the stern and serious captain of the Heart Pirates—was attempting to juggle three completely random items in the air, and he was terrible at it. The stethoscope flopped down almost immediately, the hat following close behind, and Law’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. He grabbed the hat and put it on his head at a jaunty angle, looking at you with an exaggeratedly serious expression.

It was absurd. You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips.

Noticing the sound, Law raised an eyebrow. "That wasn’t supposed to happen," he said, still juggling the remaining items with little success.

You chuckled again, the weight on your chest starting to lift slightly. "What are you doing?"

He gave you a deadpan look, tossing the items to the floor and crossing his arms. "Obviously, I’m trying to be an idiot to get you to laugh. I’m not exactly used to cheering people up in the traditional sense, but you’re going to have to deal with this."

You smiled, the corners of your mouth tugging up despite the lingering sadness. Law's awkward attempt at comedy was endearing in its own way, especially coming from someone as stoic as him. You could see how hard he was trying for you, and it warmed your heart.

"Okay, okay," you said softly, pushing the pillow aside and sitting up a little. "You’re definitely making me feel better."

Law moved closer again, sitting on the edge of the bed this time. He rested a hand on your shoulder, his expression softening. "You don’t always have to be the one cheering everyone else up, [Name]. Sometimes, you need to let others take care of you too."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, but in a good way. You nodded, finally allowing yourself to lean into him. "Thanks, Law," you murmured.

He let out a small, relieved breath, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. "Anytime. Just... don't lock the door next time. I don't want to have to teleport in every time you need me."

You snorted softly, resting your head against his shoulder. "Deal."

And for the first time that day, you felt a little lighter, knowing that even in your darkest moments, Law would always be there to make a fool out of himself just to see you smile.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[artificial-transmutations]

4k! Dropout Dorm 1

Hey guys! And there is even more big news today!

It seems like yesterday I celebrated 3k followers, and now, all of a sudden, I have just reached 4k! Honestly, I'm at a loss for words. I'm really happy (and a bit bewildered) that so many of you want to read my stories!

As a celebration, I will receive one previously exclusive four-part story from my once membership site (now a tip jar) here on tumblr, with new pictures! The writing is more than a year old, but I decided not to adjust it to preserve the original charm, so please don't mind the rough edges here and there. And now, enjoy

Dropout Dorm

The line in front of Marvin was long and Marvin was unhappy with himself. He should have come earlier! Who could have known that it was customary to be that early for dorm room assignment? Well, that was an easy question. Obviously, every student in front of him. 

He wasn't technically the last one to arrive, since there was one other guy that came even later, but the two of them marked the end of the queue. The student behind him, a brown haired young man with a narrow face, studied him carefully, before extending a hand.

"Hi!", he said. "I'm Aiden."

"Marvin", answered Marvin. He wasn't the outgoing type.

"Pleased to meet you, Marvin!", Aiden smiled. "So, we'll be rooming together, I suppose."

"We are?" How did Aiden know?

"I'm pretty sure we are." Aiden nodded. "College rules dictate that rooming is determined by order of appearance on the registration day. Since there are 84 people in the line in front of you, and always two are called into the office at a time, it is only logical that we will be roommates."

That made sense. Marvin didn't bother to count the line yet, but he wasn't entirely unhappy. The person directly in front of him looked like the typical meathead jock type, while the thin man behind him proved that he was capable of logic reasoning.

So, Marvin smiled. "Great. I'm looking forward to it, you seem like a good roommate! I'm majoring in computer sciences, what about you?"

Aiden grinned. "Mathematics. Sorry, that's hard to hide for me."

The grin was genuine, and Marvin and Aiden used the waiting time to get to know each other better. To Marvin's delight, Aiden was quite nerdy himself and wasn't keen on partying or taking girls home - which qualified him as a good rooming choice even more. 

Finally, they were called into the secretary’s office, where a woman with large glasses looked at them.

"You are the last ones?"

Marvin nodded and the woman sighed.

"Good. Well, here is the bad news: You too should look for a room elsewhere, outside the campus."

Marvin was confused. Why was that?

Aiden verbalized his question: "Why? Aren't there any rooms left?"

The woman sighed again. "Technically, there is one room left, and you can have it, but... room 148 has a bit of a bad reputation."

"How can a room have a bad reputation?" Aiden asked quizzically.

"Look, the room is called the 'dropout dorm'. For whatever reason, no student that ever took that room graduated. Most dropped out in the same or the following semester.

Aiden looked at Marvin, who, in turn looked at Aiden. How to put it delicately, Marvin asked himself, but Aiden was quicker again, just being honest:

"So, it's just superstition?"

The woman shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe. Maybe not. I can only tell you what happened to students in the years before."

"Did you always offer this room last?" Marvin asked and the woman nodded. He exchanged another look with Aiden and then smiled. "Thank you for your concerns, but I think we'll take the risk."

After the formalities were over, they got their keys and went up to their new room. It was located on the second floor, and when Aiden opened the door, he saw a big window facing the lake and the sun shining brightly through it.

"So, why do you think this is the 'dropout dorm'?" Aiden asked.

Marvin smiled. "Because it is the 'dropout dorm'. You see, there had probably been one or two dropouts in this room. Then, someone decided that the room was bad luck or something like that, and they started to offer it to the last students. Now, usually, the last ones in line are those students who care about their studies the least."

"Except in this year" Aiden added.

"Exactly. So, it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. They gave the 'dropout dorm' to the students with the worst starting conditions, and they dropped out, fueling the myth of the 'dropout dorm'."

"Flawless reasoning", Aiden congratulated. "Now, do you have a preference on which side of the room you want?"

Both young men settled in quickly and moved their stuff to their dorm room over the course of the day. It wasn't a bad room at all: It had a small bathroom with a shower, and a nice view from the window. Most importantly, though, it had two nice, big desks, which were quickly filled with books on Aiden's side of the room, and a powerful PC on Marvin's side. The day passed quickly, and it became time for bed. 

Aiden was slightly amused, as Marvin went into the bathroom to get changed and emerged in pajamas. He certainly didn't judge Marvin for being an introvert, but Aiden had given up pajamas a few years ago and slept in boxers since then. Still, that was nothing of his business.

Both their dreams were restless and although Aiden couldn't remember what exactly he had dreamed off, when he woke up the next morning to the sound of the shower running, he found himself with a bad case of morning wood. It was rare for Aiden to be aroused, but right now, he felt outright horny. His dick throbbed against his boxers and the outline was clearly visible since he had untangled himself from his blanked in his sleep. He just hoped that Marvin hadn't noticed.

When Aiden accidentally brushed against his erection, that was already forming a wet patch in his boxers from precum, he would have almost moaned out load. Damn, was this thing sensitive today. He looked at the bathroom. Marvin had left the door open, probably by accident. He could see the naked body of the other man moving under the stream of water and quickly drew back his head.

It looked like Marvin would still be busy for a while, so this was his chance! Aiden quickly disposed of his boxers and wrapped his right hand around his member, careful not to make noise. It was really difficult since he wanted to moan loudly so bad, but he could control himself. 

He quickly moved his hand up and down, rolling back his eyes. This felt just so good! Wave after wave of pleasure rocked through him and he was already close when he heard the water stop. It took an awful lot of willpower to pry his hand from his prick for a moment, to peek at the bathroom door. Marvin was drying up. If he hurried up, he still had time to finish. His hand went back to his erection, and he pumped on. He threw his head back as he came - in complete silence, but with wide spurts all over his chest.

Aiden had no time to recover though, as only a split second later, Marvin stepped out of the bathroom. Lightning-fast, Aiden covered himself with the blanket, soiling it with his cum in the process. Marvin hadn't seen anything, right?

"Good morning!" Marvin said, the towel around his hips, but stopped in the middle of the room. "Does it smell weird here?"

Stay tuned for the rest of the short series, following Marvin and Aiden on their inevitable journey, posted soon.

Read the next part here

[karlachismylife]

Blind Spot || The Queen of the Clan pt.3

CW: fem!chubby!reader, kinda stalking and privacy invasion (what privacy out in the savanna though), mentions of pissing/marking

You're still shaken even by the end of the day, and you're not alone in this state: no one fancies being trampled, no matter how beuatiful the wild black and white horsy lolipops are, and even the local guides look unnerved by today's brush with a horrific death. So you don't feel weird when you find yourself restless and on high alert deep into the barely moonlit night - even though Kir has it better than you and breathes evenly in the sleeping bag next to you, he mutters something like "careful" when you climb out of your tent. He understands, doesn't complain - honestly, a great fucking guy to have as your friend here.

The night is quite cooler than the frying pan that the days out here are, but it's still relatively warm and filled with loud noises, making it feel much more welcoming, even though by logic you should be more afraid of the darkness filled with so much wildlife than of a still, silent night. You and your human vision are no better than unsuspecting antilopas stocking up on some grass for an upcoming migration - an easy target for a silent predator, whose glinting eyes in the night vision camera will be the last thing flashing before it pounces you.

But then again, you have everyone around you to alert of an intruder: cautious birds, crickets, loud enough to make your eardrums vibrate as you pass their invisible high grounds on quiety rustling grass blades. Even some distant monkeys calling each other, ready to warn everyone around them like the good neighbours they are. That's probably more than your human neighbours in the city would do for you, if they even had noticed an intruder under late night TV or headphones.

Surely, you're safe enough in the confines of a camp to step aside and pee before going back to sleep.

You turn around to be greeted with a sight straight out of Conan Doyle's Hound of the Baskervilles, savannah edition. A huge, dog-like figure, looming right in the passage between tents ominously, a bare skull where its head should be.

If you didn't have to piss before, you sure do now.

The animal seems to sense the way your heart drops, fingers growing cold immediately, a potential shriek stuck in your throat, and moves. Takes a step back. Gets its lowered, unthreatening head out of the complete darkness - a pair of plush, round ears, one chipped harshly, light mane and an uneven patch of lighter fur on its mangled, but still adorable in its way, muzzle (so that's the skull) revealed.

A fucking hyena. Again. At least not the one that already took a habit of nuzzling up to you and using your backpack as its toilet - although, judging solely by size, this one would be more dominant - even though dominant hyenas don't usually go around looking like they were mauled by their whole clan. Still, who's to say it won't decide to go and spray over the other's scent just to prove who's more important? A single thought of getting your stuff double-scented makes your eyes water. Hyenas fucking stink.

"Don't you dare come piss on my stuff, you fucking Baskerville mutt," you threaten the hyena quietly, backing off into the patch of grass you intended to water. The hyena scoffs at you, but bows its head again. Its eyes - just two glistening orbs in the scarce lighting you have here - don't seem all that pleading and submissive, like the other one's did, but you know better than to judge animals by their eyes. They're not humans, no matter how similar their behaviour sometimes is, and you have to rely on indicators like their stance and vocalization.

Your ghostly visitor seems to be pretty calm. Perhaps got attracted by the unfamiliar hyena's smell you brought with yourself, and now is mostly confused and wary of the bulky tents with many humans inside - and one lucky human outside.

"There's no food for you here. You better go hunt somewhere else, or you'll be hungry," you try not to think that there is very much food for the hyena - namely, you - and back away further. The hyena that seemed quite content with just standing in one place all hauntingly, suddenly moves, pushes its ears back and whoops at you, making you stop abruptly.

The grass right where your foot would be planted moves silently and a single glint of a snake hurrying away from the big clumsy distrubance sends a shiver down your spine. You can't make out what snake it was, but you sure as hell don't mind never knowing compared to the other alternative. You shoot a glance at the hyena in its guarded position, and you find yourself able to follow the snake's path by the subtle movements of your fluffy savior's eyes. Huh. Not even a full twenty-four hours, and you're already saved twice by hyenas. If that's not the biggest middle finger to the Lion King, then what?

"Do you mind staying on watch while I pee, maybe?" you chuckle, teasing the hyena - surely it doesn't understand you, but it lets out a low whiny growl, as if acknowledging that it heard you try and communicate with it. You comtemplate hiding behind someone's tent (that's not very neighbourly, though) or a rover (too far, and who knows how many more snakes are there to taste your ankles along the way), but the train of thought lands back where you started: putting on a show in front of a hyena out of a ghost story.

You'll just have to pray that it doesn't consider you simply relieving yourself as an attempt to assert dominance or call dibs on its territory.

Surprisingly, the hyena averts its eyes as you crouch down in an uncomfortable position, your legs already cramping and the very real fear of anything crawling into your panties keeping you from actually letting go. When you finally manage, your guard's ears twitch, turning to the hissing sound, but it almost makes a point to keep its muzzle turned away - the logical explanation would be that there's actually something more interesting for the animal in the direction it's looking at. But you can dream of a respectful hyena ghost standing guard while you struggle to pull your pants back up, right?

You circle the hyena on the way back, keeping your eyes on it the whole time, and it turns its big patterned head to follow you too, wagging its tail lazily once or twice as you nearly stumble on the uneven ground. You only turn away from him, pretty much fed up with your night escapades (what did you want though, you're in the middle of the animal kingdom), as you try to open your and Kir's tent.

And then you hear the rustling and a low grumble. Alerted, you lift your head, prepared to scream as a last attempt to wander the predator off, only to find it fully laying on the ground, snout-first in the dust, rolling around and getting sand and dirt into its mane as it rubs its hide desperately at a certain spot on the ground.

The spot you just peed on.

"Ew, pervert," you react faster than you should, words slipping out as if you were actually witnessing a human do the same, not an animal that's very much used to rubbing its scent off on others and recieving the same treatment. But then again, what hyena wants human scent on its fur?

The hyena seems to hear you though. Its jolly tossing stops immediately, and you meet its huge dark eyes for a moment, before it makes another whiny grumbling noise - much more high-pitched this time, as if you caught the poor furry baby off guard and embarassed it - and scatters away, rushing silently through the night until it simply dissolves into the darkness.

Just like a ghost should.

Part 2 | Part 3.5 | Part 4

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog @creepingeva @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @sillymanjaro @ihatethinkingofnames10 @ravensfeatheruniverse @yaminax @ljh861

honestly i don't know if posting updates so fast is a good idea, but i'm an attention whore and seeing people enjoy this thing overdozes me on dopamine better than any differential equation could, so i'll try and make updates as each previous chapter reaches a 100 notes. also a reminder that i will eventually block ageless blogs interacting at least with the nsfw chapters, so please take a minute and put your age in your bio or pinned post!

you can ask to be added to the taglist under series masterlist post

[night-raven-tattler]

Love beyond spoken words - part 2

Summary: Everyone has a way of saying "I love you" without using those three words.

Characters: Jamil, Rook, Idia, Sebek × GN!Reader (separate, romantic)

Other parts of the series: Ace, Jack, Azul

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Jamil was going through his personalised version of the stages of grief while stacking away the boxes of expensive fabric Kalim brought from Silk City that he promised to give to Professor Crewel

Without his knowledge, as always

But this time wasn't too bad, since you were there to help him with the boxes

And he quite enjoyed your company, so the opportunist in him simply refused to deny himself of you when you kindly offered to lend him a helping hand

He even offered you one of his hair ties when your hair kept falling on your face

You knew Jamil had a certain possesiveness over his personal belongings, so you couldn't help but feel a bit flustered at the offer

You still accepted the hair tie, however

After your finished putting the boxes away, Grim came into the room looking for you because the Headmage requested your help with some errand

And you didn't get the chance to hand Jamil his hair tie back

Jamil was surprised by how little it bothered him that his hair tie was with you; instead of being upset you took something from him like he expected he'd feel, he was somewhat glad you had something of his with you

...Maybe it was silly, it was just a hair tie after all

Yet, it almost made him feel like he was claiming you in some way-

A thought so embarassing he had to cover his whole face with his hoodie

He was walking in the hallways with Kalim as his Housewarden talked about The Great Seven know what, when Kalim suddenly stopped himself mid-rant and fished something out of his pocket

"I totally forgot! Reader bumped into me today and told me to give this to you!"

It was a small paper bag with a snake doodled on it

Jamil snatched it from Kalim, not wanting him to hold something from you any longer, and opened the bag

Inside he found a little note and two hair ties: the one he gave you, and another one that had a small charm with your favorite symbol on it

"I know you don't like when people use your things, so I wanted to give it back. I also gave you one of mine so take care of it!"

He didn't understand the logic behind you giving him your own hair tie, but he took the bag from you and hid it carefully in his pocket, where he occasionally let his hands rest throughout the day

Jamil was very curious about your little offering, so he asked you about it over text

"I wanted to offer it to you as an apology for holding onto your stuff for too long so you won't be mad at me."

Your goody-two-shoes silly logic made him chuckle

As he was about to playfully scold you for your thinking, he saw another chat bubble coming from you that made him drop his phone

"...besides, is it really that bad that I wanted you to have something of mine too?"

Cheeks burning with fluster, he texted you a quick goodnight before he put his phone onto his nightstand, face down so not even the inanimate object could see him like this

Jamil struggled with the idea of you wanting to leave your mark on him, the same selfish idea he carried in his heart

Yet, he didn't mind either of your selfishness

That's why you found Jamil's hair tie under your desk first thing in the morning, a small note attached to it

"If I will have to carry something that belongs to you with me, it wouldn't be fair if you didn't do the same."

『••✎••』

You were enjoying your break outside when you heard a sharp object hit the tree you were leaning against, and based on the piece of paper attached to it, someone special wanted to tell you something

"My love, a whisper

My arrow, a listener

A most blessed messenger

It'll seek your heart to alter

For your blush I'm after."

Your degree in the language of Rook Hunt told you several things: 1. He was on a mission to live up to his name and hunt for your heart... or something

And 2. He really liked his "arrow of love" metaphors

Rook also was likely very amused by how on the nose he was being by sending you love poems via arrow aimed at your surroundings

It happened often enough for you to become unable to differenciate between the quickening pace of your heart from the spook and the one from knowing your boyfriend wanted to remind you of his love for you

Rook had some questionable ways of making your heart skip a beat, and it was borderline annoying how good he was at getting what he wanted

Something about the message itself was a bit off to you

Wasn't counterproductive for a hunter to let its prey know that he was after it?

You never knew what Rook was about to do next, and your heartbeat quickened once again with anticipation for his next move

...which happened soon enough

If the Headmage knew of the arrow currently stuck to your door and damaging the school property, you'd be in trouble

You just wanted to rest peacefully after your classes, but it seemed like Rook had other plans

"My eyes give gentle kisses to your heart

I want to read you, I want to learn you

The world in your chest, your own flow of art

Painted in the loveliest of hues."

You looked around, suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of being watched

At this point you were convinced he was toying with you, like a cat after it caught a mouse

But Rook had plans other than to harm you...

He enjoyed the chase, maybe a bit at the expense of your heart, which would jump out of your chest at every over the top declaration of love

You could think of only one way to somewhat get back at him

The vice housewarden was scribbling in his notebook at his desk when he heard footsteps nearing his room, followed by a knock at the door

He smiled and opened the door, revealing your flustered self, fidgeting with a piece of paper in your hands

"Roses are red

You look very merry

I'm not good at writing poems

So just kiss me already."

Rook's eyes widened for a few seconds before he burst into a delighter laughter as he wrapped his arms around you

You thought his over the top affection was what affected you the most, but you were so wrong

All along, it was the little things that made your heart explode

His laughter and the beating of your heart were the only melody echoing in your ears, while your face was being admired by Rook's lovesick eyes

"As you wish, mon amour."

『••✎••』

When you and Idia started dating, you knew he was a peculiar guy

He texted you "good morning" at 5 P.M., he liked to tease you about your grades and wishing the school system was digitalized so he could hack into the school and modify your grades, and he liked gifting you small, cute robots that he built during his sleepless nights

You were dedicated to peel off every layer of your angsty, dramatic, onion of a lover and try to understand his ways of showing he cares about you

Unfortunately, the first obstacle you had to face was his way of texting you

Idia was both a genius and a smartass: he liked sending you secret messages through emojis, but he'd never give you any hint to help you decode them

You rolled your eyes as his favorite combo of emojis popped onto your screen through the notification of your messaging app

"➡️👤🛠️👆💙➡️🤪"

You suspected he either liked testing your abilities to decypher his code, or he was to afraid to outright say what he felt

It's not like Idia was shy in his affections, as peculiar as they were

It was more like he was... hesitant

Afraid, even

"I will take that as a compliment"

You watched as the chat bubble appeared on your screen, carrying Idia's reply

"whehehe did you really look at a code with unknown meaning and assumed it was positive? lmaooooo"

Both of you knew he wouldn't do that

Not because he wasn't capable of it, but because Ortho would threaten to scratch up his P.E. gear again

"Not my fault you sent me code instead of telling me how pretty we both know you think I am"

"oooooo someone's confident 💘💘💘💘"

Well, at least that one was easy enough to decypher

The code Idia sent to you always came out of nowhere, like a sudden stream of thoughts that he couldn't keep to himself

It was sweet, really, and it wasn't like you disliked his little codes

Being a gamer at heart, Idia loved games, and they were an important part of him

If Idia needed some sort of puzzle to express himself, you decided to play along

You were determined to wait until Idia became able to tell you outright how he felt

Maybe one day

That's what Idia also told himself as he stared at the sentence he kept typing and deleting over and over in your conversation

"you make my heart go wild"

Maybe one day...

『••✎••』

"And, because of General Zephyrus, royal green has become a color in Briar Valley that represents sentiments of love and affection for your beloved. It was historically used in clothing during duels by the partner that was not participating..."

You had no idea what you did to receive a special history lesson from Professor Zigvolt himself, but you loved Sebek so you listened to him attentively

It was one of the rare occasions in which he was not talking about Malleus, and it was almost cute to see how worked up he got for topics outside of his guard duty

Not like he wasn't always cute

"Are you even listening, human?!"

...You were not stupid enough to admit you kind of spaced out a little

"Yeah, you were talking about, uh... Something about green clothes?"

Sebek raised his eyebrow and watched you suspiciously, while you were trying not to avoid his piercing gaze and tell on yourself

"... Well, yes. It was a tradition for unmarried partners to express their love through green accessories, such as scarves and..."

Even if he seemed upset on the surface, Sebek was more than eager to share part of his culture with you

The way he'd get so animated about his homeland, his liege, his passions...

You could watch him all day

Unfortunately, the bell indicating the end of your break had the both of you part ways

Before Sebek walked away, he reminded you of the equestrian club's upcoming show jumping competition against Royal Sword Academy

And before he could shily request your presence, you told him you'll be there, and sent his blushy self back to his classes

You didn't want to just be there and attend, however: you wanted to show your appreciation for Sebek

And you remembered his little rant about green accessories as showcases of love in Briar Valley

Which brought you to Sam's the next day, where you bumped into Lilia

Lucky for you, since you couldn't remember which shade of green was the one Sebek was talking about...

Your eyes fell upon a light green scarf, resembling the trademark Diasomnia green, and asked Lilia if this color was good to wear

Lilia's eyes widened before his face twisted into a mischievous grin before he agreed with your choice

So you wrapped it around your wrist the day of the competition and made sure it was as easy to spot as possible

Sebek was warming up with his horse when he spotted you in the growing crowd...

...And you watched him as he almost fell off his horse when he saw the scarf wrapped around the hand you were waving at him with

You watched how he debated between going to you and resuming his warmup for what felt like an eternity, but the beginning of the competition was announced so he settled on talking to you later

On his first break, he marched right to you, red as a tomato and vaguely resembling a broken traffic light

"HUMAN! I can't believe you would do this in such a public setting without telling me first! In Briar Valley it's custom for the knight to wrap the scarf around their desired partner after the duel to signal their engagement! Was my lecture not clear enough?!"

You were used to Sebek getting randomly agitated about stuff but-

-Wait.

"ENGAGEMENT?!"

Sebek turned even redder, something you thought was impossible

"YES?! Light green is a sign of engagement!"

You head was full of questions upon questions

Did you just publicly more or less propose to Sebek?

And he was mad because you didn't tell him beforehand, not because of the accidentally proposal itself?!

Now you wanted a horse to fall off of

[sgiandubh]

Things that make you go hmmm - the Live with Kelly and Mark October 2024 edition

I have long suspected that hostile Anons were, in reality, pre-emptive strikes of sorts.

But never has it been more clear than today.

You can watch C's appearance at the Live with Kelly and Mark Show, in full, here:

Instead of bothering you with convoluted explanations, I took the liberty of clipping the part that made me (and not only me) go hmmm. I will transcribe it for our Spanish girls, who normally use a translator.

It is almost too good to be true and goes to show one can never have 100% control over what one says. Especially when on a packed, tiresome and tedious schedule:

[FYI, this clipped portion's time stamp on the original video is 22:24 - 23:00 - nothing has been altered by me, just extracted with as much context as possible, lest you'd accuse me, or something]

A thing of beauty, indeed (thank God for days off, huh?):

Mark Consuelos (MC): 'And you've recently had a... uhm... a birthday...'

C: 'I did'

MC: 'Yeah... did you guys do anything special?'

C: 'Uhm, I had an amazing day, we were in London and we just had wrapped, like a couple of days before, uhm, so I got to, I went to, my husband took me to an art show, then to a three-hour lunch and then to the theatre.'

Kelly Ripa (KR): 'Oh, that sounds like heaven!'

C:' It was heaven and then his birthday was like five days later and I gave him a card (inaudible- if someone can make something out of it, please step forward, by all means, I feel it's sort of important, in the context). It was....'

[laughter in the public]

KR: 'That's okay. That's alright. You also gave him a son, come on, come on, come on.'

C: 'This is true, this is true. How long can I kind of run on that one?'

MC: 'A long time, a long time'.

KR:' Oh, at least eighteen to twenty-five years.'

C:' Okay, great.'

KR:' Yeah'.

One more time: 'we were in London and we just had wrapped, like a couple of days before'. I mean, this made me stop in my tracks, right?

Who is the 'we' that 'were in London'? The same 'we' who' just wrapped, like a couple of days before?' Did I miss something, here?

Since when was Tony McGill involved in the wrapping of the OL production, mind you? And if not, was it a cast trip, just after 'we' (the cast) 'wrapped, like a couple of days before'? Now that would be perfectly absurd, wouldn't it? The question was about her birthday, an intimate, family moment: why bring a collective we, like a sore thumb, in that context?

In English grammar, 'and' is a coordinating conjunction. It mainly serves to connect two words, phrases or, like in this case, clauses together.

[Source: https://www.learngrammar.net/english-grammar/clauses]

In the phrase ' 'we were in London and we just had wrapped, like a couple of days before ', ' we were in London' and 'we just had wrapped, like a couple of days before' are two independent clauses, connected by a coordinator, 'and' (coordinating conjunction). Therefore, the first 'we' and the second 'we' logically refer to the same persons.

Exactly like in the following example:

'I heard her saying this and I just had to stop in my tracks, almost in disbelief'. LOL

This grammar lesson has been brought to you for free, courtesy of Sgian-dubh, Inc.

I rest my case.

PS: ' I got to, I went to, my husband took me'. Enough said. Bless her heart, she is still a very lousy, unconvincing (yet very endearing) liar.

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Anniversary To Remember

RP / story written with @tbgblr2 Thanks for taking on the challenge of this idea and my attempt to find an inconvenient birth location that hadn’t been written before. (9.5k words)

“Wha… NO!” you snapped as you looked at the sign in front of us.

“Please?” I asked, with my best doe eyed expression. “I booked it specially for us last year… I know things have changed, but it's perfectly safe.”

“I’ll fall through.” You groan, admittedly giggling at the thought.

“No you won't, they’re not like the old days with wicker baskets, they’re proper, metal structures designed to hold 10 times our combined weight.” I retorted.

It was our second wedding anniversary today. When we discussed it last year, the day after our one year anniversary, it sounded like a great way to celebrate our second. We were going on a hot air balloon ride over the city into the countryside and staying for a romantic meal together with a night in a log cabin to follow.

Only our desires got the better of us, and here we were looking at the sign for the balloon place with you holding your hands under your blossoming belly – 9 months of it.

You had forgotten all about it with all the baby commotion, but when I pulled up to the venue near the airport, it all came flooding back.

“The doctor said you weren’t due for another week, and this will be the last chance we can do something crazy like this before the baby comes. It makes lots of sense to do it now and cross it off our bucket list… plus I can’t get a refund.” I tried to reason with logic.

You shook your head. “I think my belly is almost the size of that balloon the way I feel.” Despite your protest you’re clearly thinking about it and, warming up to the idea, you eventually smile at me.

“That’s my girl” I grin “Don’t worry, it’s only 3 hours”

~•~

I roll my eyes but my lips pull into a smile. “Okay, let’s do it. Here’s hoping we can both fit in there.” I joke, rubbing the swell of my heavy stomach.

Leaving the house was the last thing I wanted to do today, and taking a romantic hot air balloon ride? Complete madness. But you were just so excited, this was something you’d always wanted to do for as long as I’d known you. And those doe eyes, I really couldn’t say no.

As we stood and waited for the stewards to set up the balloons, I grimaced at the twinge flaring in my back.

“Oof-” I huff out, and attempt to hold up my bump that’s weighing heavy on my hips and cramping my spine.

“Baby kicking you in the ribs again?” You ask, noticing my expression.

“No… it’s just really heavy. Hoooo- I’ll be glad when this pregnancy is over.”

“Not long left to go sweetie. Here, let me try something.” You stand behind me, arms snaking my waist, and you lift up the large bump containing our baby. My head falls back against you with relief. “That feels wonderful.” I murmur, enjoying the momentary feeling.

After a couple of minutes of respite, you gently let go and the weight returns to my pelvis and I groan softly.

“Are you sure this is safe?” I ask, taking another deep breath, rubbing my belly subconsciously. “I’m not sure I’m up for this…”

~•~

“It’s the safest thing in the world” came the voice across the way. One of the representatives of the balloon company came striding up and shook my hand. “How can I help?”

I picked up my phone and scrolled through to our online voucher. “I’m here for our booking?” I asked, showing the details to the man who approached.

“Ahh!” came the reply. “You’re here to fly. Got your transport right over here. Flying it myself today. Names Jimmy. I couldn’t help but overhear the discussion earlier, let me tell you, kids are the best thing in the world, and once you’re up in the air, you’re going to have stories to tell them to get them to sleep for years to come. Just checking…” he sounded slightly unsure “are you safe to fly in your condition?”

“I have the medical certificate here, got it last week.” I announced. Jimmy looked it over.

“Good all seems to be in order, if you’ll follow me… our chariot awaits!” Jimmy was enthusiastic, I’ll certainly give him that.

~•~

I was glad when Jimmy directed us further across the field, I needed the opportunity to walk off the cramp rippling my stomach. The braxton hicks had been happening on and off today, which wasn’t particularly unusual, but I didn’t want to tell you as I knew you’d only worry. I didn’t want to ruin this once in a lifetime experience for you.

My eyes widened when I saw the basket we’d be riding in; it was huge and a lot taller than I anticipated. It was higher than my waist.

“Erm… how am I going to get in that?” I ask uncertainly.

Jimmy produced a stepping stool, presumably he was used to getting people in and out the large basket but perhaps never someone quite this pregnant before.

~•~

It took a few false starts, with you stepping on, trying to get your leg over the top, giving up, repositioning, trying again and again, but eventually you were able to use my shoulder as support as I lifted you up over the edge of the basket. “Maybe I should have gotten in first and lifted you over?” I suggested, as I scrambled in behind you.

You huffed out a breath as you smiled “I am in no condition to be lifted thank you!”

It was quite roomy all things considered. There was a small cabin to one side where the pilot could sit and do his thing without directly interfering with us. I looked over and saw the laptop computer affixed to a small tray against the wall.

Our area was open sided, exposed to the elements, but thankfully it was a nice day and aside from higher winds when we got up to a decent height, we were expecting clear views and plenty of lasting memories.

We cuddled together as Jimmy announced he was lighting the burners – the whoosh of the gas and the heat of the flames announced we were getting ready to go. I hugged you from behind and as there was a quick lurch from the balloon lifting off the ground I felt your usually soft belly harden under my fingers. “What was that?” I whispered to you.

~•~

“What was what?” I reply casually, keeping my eyes forward at the ground that was slowly disappearing beneath us.

You say my name with a hint of a scolding, knowing I knew exactly what you were referring to. My belly was still contracting under your fingers and I could see in your eyes that you could feel it too.

“It’s nothing, just another braxton hicks that’s all. Don’t worry. Look at this amazing view” I try to distract you “we’re already so high.”

~•~

I calm a little as I feel the tension ease around your middle. Taking your hand in mine we walked over to the edge of the basket. We spend a good 5 minutes with the wind ruffling our hair as we stare out over the city. “There's our house!” I excitedly point out into the distance. “There’s your parent’s place. Oh and mine.” I’m lost in the giddy enjoyment of this, holding your hand tight and don’t notice your grip tightening and tightening more on mine as the next contraction starts to grip your middle.

“If we need to get down, how do we do that?” you asked Jimmy.

“Sorry, nothing much we can do now until we’re outside the city. Nowhere clear to land. Figure we need about 2 hours minimum with this wind speed. Afraid we can’t just turn these things around and head home.” He was smiling but didn’t even look up at you as he responded, he was too focused on twisting the knobs on the gas bottles to get the mixture right and tapping his route onto the laptop to let air traffic control know where we were heading.

I turn back around and grasp you around the waist – your bump pressed in tight against me as I cuddle you close to me. I don’t notice the strained tension that had gripped it a few moments before. Kissing you I whisper “Happy anniversary. Here’s to lots of years and lots of babies!”

~•~

“Lots of babies eh? Let’s see how we get on with this one first before you start planning for a whole football team.” I shift my hips subtly side to side, trying to not think about just how low the baby felt in my pelvis.

“You were right; it is really magical up here. You can see the whole city.” I say wandering as much as I can in the small space, needing to move, looking out at every angle towards the horizon. The sun was shining brightly illuminating the tiny buildings below, clouds littered the perfectly blue sky, but it was the silence that made the experience otherworldly. It was so quiet up here. Just the sounds of the breeze and the occasional whoosh of the gas canisters keeping our balloon in the air.

I ended up leaning against the adjacent wall of the basket to you, each of us looking out at the impressive scenery, but I’m pulled out of the experience but a forceful contraction squeezing and tightening my belly. My breath hitches, pain pressing more urgently now through my body. I try to steady my breathing, long deep breathes through the pain, that’s what they say don’t they? My fingers grip the padded railing and my head dips slightly. Stay calm, just breathe, I tell myself. This might not be labour.

~•~

You suddenly feel my hand rubbing your back. “You ok?” I ask, concern in my voice looking at your white knuckles gripping the side. Your eyes dart between my face and what I’m looking at, suddenly releasing your grip.

“Yeah, fine. Just baby’s really low. Probably just the change in gravity because we’re so high.”

I caught my laugh, sniggering through my lips. “No, you’re just very, very pregnant.” My hands grip either side of your hips and press, the moan escaping your lips echoed out across the wide open air.

I lean in close and whisper so only you can hear “Just breathe through it, we’ll be on the ground in a couple of hours.”

~•~

“You know?” I whisper my reply, turning my head slightly to find you nodding, a grin twitching your lips. “Damn, I thought I’d been more- hooo-subtle.”

Slowly, I turn around to face you, holding on to your biceps as I find myself needing both the physical and emotional support.

“Ooohhhh- why now?” I quietly moan against your chest.

“Shhhhhh it’s okay.” You whisper into my hair, rubbing my back before pressing deep into my hips again. “How long do you think you’ve been in labour for?” You ask.

“Mmmm- I’m not sure. My body’s always aching and cramping these days, I- I didn’t think anything of it….” I reply softly, my breath hitching again with another contraction. My heavy rounded belly is squashed between us and I’m almost certain you’d be able to feel it through your shirt, tensing and contracting against your stomach.

~•~

The next contraction builds without warning as you grab hold of me tight, your fingers digging into my shoulders as you press your forehead into my chest, desperately resisting the urge to scream, knowing it would likely cause chaos with our pilot. My hands grip into the small of your back and you press back into them, you’re suddenly bent at the waist, your feet spread, hips swaying side to side as you groan quietly into me.

My forehead rests against you and to the outside world - or specifically Jimmy at this moment - it just looks like we’re embracing and enjoying the moment.

Suddenly there’s a splash between your legs and you find your dress is sticking to your legs. You go wide eyed. There’s no mistaking it now…

~•~

“Oh my god…” my voice is barely a whisper as I stare up at you in shock. Your expression mirrors my own.

“Erm… is everything alright guys?” Jimmy asks in an upbeat tone that feels alien to the both of us right now.

“Not really no…” I say to our bewildered pilot, before turning back to you. “Honey, I think I need to sit down.”

Your hand is around my waist as you walk me over to the small cushioned bench sitting one end of the hot air balloon basket, you steady me as I awkwardly lower myself down.

“Are you okay here for a minute while I update our pilot on what’s happening?” You ask quietly, one hand affectionately rubbing my stomach.

“Mmmm- yeah… I think so. Thanks.” I reply and watch you walk over to Jimmy to presumably tell him that I’m in labour.

Everything feels different now I’m sat down; my hips ache, my pelvis feels full and my stomach seems to sit further out forcing itself to sit between my thighs. The baby had definitely dropped and was making its arrival known.

Why now… why here… I thought to myself, this baby has a really warped sense of timing. I closed my eyes and rubbed slow circles around my stomach. I tried to stay calm and reassure myself that everything would be okay, but my broken waters continuing to leak from me served as a constant reminder of my advancing labour. My heart raced and it felt like I couldn’t quite catch my breath through the rising panic…

~•~

I look Jimmy straight in the eyes. “We need to get down. Now… if not sooner.”

He shook his head “I wasn’t lying when I said we couldn’t. You guys knew the issues before you got on. I’ll put an SOS out so the medical facilities will meet us when we land, but it’s going to be around 2 hours.”

“Shit” I cursed under my breath, as you groaned loudly, the first vocalisation of a rapidly accelerating labour.

I dashed to you and skidded down to my knees, inadvertently sliding through your amniotic fluid in the process, cursing all the way. I grasp your hands as you grip mine - hard - as your eyes look at me pleading, struggling to catch your breath.

I talk you down, calming whispering tones as you catch your breath and groan through the rest of the contraction.

Jimmy struggles putting 2 and 2 together as he asks “what’s happening?”

“We might well be pushing out a baby at 2000 feet if you can’t get this thing on the ground” I summarise.

“Fuck” came the blunt reply from our pilot.

~•~

We stay in that position for the next few contractions - offering me your hands to hold or shoulders to squeeze. Meanwhile, Jimmy is nervously pressing buttons on his map and contacting the base on the ground, trying to find any nearby suitable location to land - his laidback persona starting to fray at the edges.

“Hooo- the baby feels so low…” I huff out after a particularly fierce contraction. “I don’t think… I can sit anymore. Feels like I’m sitting on their head. Need to- oof- stand. Help me up?” I ask holding out my arms.

Your large hands hook under my arms and slowly aid me to standing. My balance is thrown off, the baby even lower, and I stumble a little but you’re quick to react and hold me steady.

“How are you doing love?” You ask me with concerned eyes.

“Okay… as well as I can b-be in the circumstances.” I attempt to joke, motioning to the basket and the open skies around us and the ridiculous situation we’ve found ourselves in.

“I guess of all places to labour, this has definitely got the best views.” You tuck a sweaty strand of hair behind my ear. You’re barely even looking at where we are - eyes focussed solely on me.

“I’m sorry… I ruined this experience for you.” I murmur quietly to you, feeling guilty that you were now missing out on enjoying this bucket-list activity.

“What? Don’t be silly. You’re having my baby, there is literally nothing more important to me than the two of you.” You kiss my forehead and pull me closer.

Before I can respond another contraction steals any words I could say and I’m left with only deep groans coming from my mouth.

The pain and pressure rages through my very core, my hands scramble to hook themselves around your neck as my hips sway and my knees bounce, pulling myself downwards against your sturdy frame, releasing a low moan against your chest.

When the contraction fades and my ability to speak returns I ask “do you think we should maybe start… hoooo… timing them?”

~•~

“Let’s give it a go” I say, glancing at my watch. At this point I’m just playing along as I’d been timing them since I first realised you’d been having contractions. We focus on each other through the course of the next few minutes not even staring out at the view at this point - you’re deep breathing, head buried in my chest and my hands roaming your body trying to rub - anywhere - to make the pain go away.

As the next contraction builds bringing you back into your previous position, hanging low off me and moaning loud through the worst of it, I’m counting in my head. The numbers reach high enough that I just give up as you finally come out the other end and look at me.

“So you know in the birthing class when they say come in when they’re less than 5 minutes apart and last longer than a minute?”

You nod, signalling me to go on.

“I think we should have been there for quite some time now. That was 3 minutes from the last one and lasted at least a minute - lost count after 50 seconds”

Jimmys face, watching all this from afar went white.

I turned and noticed. “Hey you said you’d had babies before. Any tips for this bit? All my knowledge is from videos at this point?”

He shook his head. “No. I couldn’t handle it. Seen my wife in stirrups, seen her bulge as the head came out and I passed out. Came to as she had a baby to her chest and 2 nurses fanning me looking on concerned”

I shook my head. “Great…” I wasn’t sure how much of that you had took on in you slight state of delirium, but either way, the next contraction was building and you held on tight.

~•~

On learning that we should already be at the hospital by now with how close together the contractions were coming, I wiggled out of your hold and moved away. Needing space… to process, to not be touched.

“No…. That can’t- can’t be right. Hoooo-“ I breathed heavily, hands gripping the edge of the basket in the absence of you. Unsure if it was the increasing pressure or the very real possibility that I was going to have this baby in a damn hot air balloon, my brain went into complete denial.

“Babe, I’m sorry. We can time some more to be sure, but this baby is definitely coming, sooner than we want.” You stand next to me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder which I shrug off with a gruff. I know this isn’t your fault, just a case of really unfortunate timing, but the constant pressure and pain has me taking my frustrations out at you.

“Fuck… ohhhh my back….” I whimper, leaning over the railing and jutting my hips backwards. The baby must be pressing on a nerve that has my spine screaming.

Despite snapping at you and shrugging off any contact, your hands grasp my hips and you press your thumbs deep into pressure points in my lower back. The relief is instant, pain reducing to a level that didn’t make me want to vomit, and I exhale a moan into my elbows.

“Did we- find anywhere- else to- land?” I pant out.

You turn to Jimmy, who also heard my laboured question.

“Yes I did, it’s sooner than our original landing spot, but with the wind speed and direction we’re travelling… erm it’s still going to be at least another hour and half…” Jimmy admitted to us.

~•~

“I don’t think she’s going to last an hour and a half!” I rant at Jimmy while rubbing your back. He looks at me with an apologetic look in his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“Is there anything in here that we could use? A first aid kit at least?” I ask.

Jimmy digs under the shelf where his laptop sits and pulls out a tiny first aid kit. Leaving you for just a moment I take the first aid kit from Jimmy and open it - inside a small roll of gauze, some tape and a pair of round ended scissors.

“No idea if these will even be sharp enough to cut the cord… not that we could tie it off properly if we could.” I at least sounded like I knew what I was talking about though inside I was panicking at this point.

“Quick…” you groan as the next contraction builds and I rush over to hold your hand, feeling you squeeze tight.

~•~

I take your hand, gripping hard, and twist around towards you curling into your embrace. I hang on to you as the contraction takes hold, the pain sharp and the pressure constant. You notice the sounds I’m making with each contraction are getting deeper, now lowing instinctually with every peak.

A minute slowly passes but the contraction doesn’t fade. I’m still shifting and groaning in your arms.

“Hoooooo- No…. Oh no no no…” I suddenly whimper, panting erratically.

“What is it?” You ask worriedly.

I lift my head up, seeing the apprehension in your eyes. “I- hooohooohoo- no…. not now….”

“Baby, talk to me. I need to know so I can help you.” You plead, cupping my face.

“I think… ooohh- I think I need to push…” I say as I bite my bottom lip, breathing heavily through my nose.

~•~

It was my turn for my face to go white. “Now? No! God, no… not now!” I pleaded to the open air around us. You weren’t listening, or at least not responding, deep breaths being sucked in and puffed out to try and regain a moment of calm before the contractions happen all over again.

“You can’t push. No one has checked you… are you dilated? You might injure yourself. You have to wait until we land!” I’m rambling at this point. Instinctively I know there’s nothing we can do to stop it and it happens when it happens but the only thing going through my head is ‘we’re all alone up here.’

“Please baby do your best. You can’t push… please” I plead.

~•~

The contraction eventually begins to fade, and taking with it the urge to push. I can’t help the smile that pulls my lips hearing your string of panicked questions and your flustered demeanour. Placing a hand to your chest, I calmly say “Honey, breathe.” Echoing the words you’ve previously said to me. “It’s okay, it’s passed now.”

“Oh god, you scared the life out of me.” You pull me closer, wrapping your arms around my waist. “So… you’re doing okay now?”

“Yes, I’m okay now, we both are.” I reassure you, holding the swell of my stomach that’s nestled between us.

You crouch right down so you’re eyelevel with the bump, both your hands splayed wide across its surface. Looking up at me over the swell you mutter “Can’t believe we’re going to meet our baby.”

I giggle, placing my hands over yours. “I know, hopefully not too soon though.” My breath suddenly hitches with a sharp inhale. “Oooohhhh here comes another one. Quick, hold me-” I manage to spit out before the contraction steals my speech and buckles my knees.

~•~

You sink down to your knees, your head nestling into the crook of my neck as you flop your arms over either of my shoulders and leave them draped down my back. I feel your fists clench and release through the bouncing of your forearms as you let out a groan, muffled by the fabric of my tee shirt.

I whisper close to your ears “You’re doing great, keep on doing that, resist that urge to push.”

I feel your head bobbing into me, nodding as much as you could, not able to give me a verbal response.

Your knees are spread wide and I can only hope at this time that your stance being wide doesn’t foreshadow anything happening between them.

I glance to the side to see Jimmy moving towards us to push past my back. He was fiddling with a few ballast bags on the side of the basket, pulling them in and pushing them to the opposite side of the basket.

He didn’t say anything, but after shoving the bags over the other side, re-securing their fixings and letting them out over the edge he went back to the gas controls.

Suddenly we felt the unmistakable feeling of descent, the slight jump in the pit of our stomachs.

“Are we nearly there?” You asked. The contraction was ebbing away and your voice was croaky, only barely loud enough to hear.

“Sorry” came Jimmy, and once more he sounded genuinely apologetic. “We need to drop down a bit to catch a different wind current to get to the new destination. Still got an hour or so.”

Your head dug back into my shoulder. That wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

~•~

“An hour?! Hooooo- I don’t know if the baby is going to wait that long…” I whisper quietly in your ear, not wanting to admit it too loudly as that would make it real.

“Shhhh, it’ll be okay baby.” You quietly reply as you rub my back. “You’re doing great, keep resisting the urge. It’s not time to push yet…. It can’t be” you added so quietly, whispering to yourself. Hoping.

“The baby feels so so low…ughhh… even without a contraction the pressure��� so much pressure.”

“I know darling, but you’ve got this. We’ll be back on the ground before we know it. Just hold on a little bit longer.” You look skyward, pleading to the universe. You really didn’t want to have to deliver this baby at 2,000 feet.

As the balloon dropped to its new level, the basket got caught on a rogue strong gust of wind, jolting everything and everyone inside as it swayed abruptly. With our arms wrapped around each other, we nearly toppled over but managed to stay upright as we both instinctually widened our knees for balance.

“Are you okay?” You ask me, our hearts thumping in shock.

I could only nod as another contraction started not long after the basket steadied itself.

“Jeeze, Jimmy what the hell was that?!” You shout towards our pilot.

“Sorry guys, that was a bit of a rough one.” He joked, readjusting his equipment that had dislodged

Meanwhile the contraction raged through me, every muscle seemingly tense and solid. My hips were screaming, forced apart by the large head barrelling towards my cervix. The pressure… it was too much. My knees were too wide. I couldn’t hold off any longer, I had to push…my body deciding to act of its own accord. Bearing down, a long and low grunt suddenly rattles from my throat against your neck.

~•~

I’d been paying careful attention to your grunts and moans over the past hour or so as concern grew and grew, but the new noises you were making were different. I looked at your face and saw your scrunched up eyes, the blown out cheeks and I suddenly realised.

“No!” I snapped. You didn’t respond. “Don’t push, baby, you can’t. You need to be checked. You know you can’t push until you’re fully dilated. Please… don’t want you to get injured.”

The end of the push came, you opened your eyes. There were tears there, frustration, pain, panic… who knows but all you could answer in response was “I have to push right now!” Soon you’re at it again.

~•~

“Can’t- help- it…mnghhhhhh!” My hands claw at your shoulders, using you to balance as my hips sink lower and my body pushes hard. “Oooohh… I can feel it… baby is moving…down!”

“Shit. Okay, okay.” You try and rationalise and plan, working out what the hell we were going to do now. “Baby, is this it? Is this really happening now?” You ask me.

“Ughhh! I think so… feels very real to me hooo!”

“Then we’ve got to take your panties off. We need to see if you’re fully dilated, if you should even be pushing right now.” Your brows furrow with concern and sympathy with every hitch of breath and groan of pain, knowing this was about to escalate very quickly.

Your hands disappear under my dress and find the dampened fabric of my underwear from my broken waters. You roll them down my thighs but keep them hidden from view beneath my knee-length dress, not wanting to alert Jimmy to what was happening. It was just you and me right now.

“Tell me when this contraction is over, then I can try and see if I can work out how dilated you are.” You say softly, trying to keep me calm and reassured in this far-from-ideal situation.

I nod in understanding, grunting once more in an uncontrollable push before gasping for breath at its end. “Hoooo-hoooo I think it’s passed…” I croak quietly to you.

~•~

I look up to check and see Jimmy occupying himself with his duties, not looking at us. Blowing out my own breath to calm myself I lower you down, so you’re on your hands and knees in front of me.

I stand up and move around behind you. Lifting the back of your dress up, I roll it up to expose your ass, your wide opened legs stretching your panties around your knees.

I let out an involuntary gasp. It’s not lost on you.

“What is it” you gasp. I describe the scene in front of me. Whilst your lips hadn’t yet parted, the baby’s head was definitely bulging, sitting just inside of you. I’d no medical training, but could only presume that we were at the stage where each push had the head begin to show and retreat as you stopped the effort. I explained to you that we were well past the point of needing to check your dilation, and right now we need to get you more comfortable to push… first task will be to get those panties off you so you could open up freely.

I looked up and that’s when I saw Jimmy looking straight at us, wide eyed like a deer caught in the headlights.

~•~

“I hope you’ve got some blankets or something up here Jimmy, cos this baby is going to be born before we reach the ground.” You warn him sternly, snapping him out of his panicked staring.

Ignoring our pilot, you focus your attention back to me - shifting and squirming on hands and knees, the dress still lifted showing just how close the baby was to this world.

“How are you holding up darling?” You ask quietly to me.

“Mhhhh- like there’s a bowling ball stuck in my vagina-” I snap with a gruff.

“Right let’s get those panties off before the next contraction so you’re free to move.”

My hands and knees were planted so heavily on the floor of the basket, I couldn’t move. The idea of raising either of my knees to free my underwear seemed too Herculean a task. You had to manoeuvre around me, holding me steady and pulled the garment free from my legs.

As soon as I was free my knees automatically spread opening up my hips further to ease the unbearable pressure in my pelvis. I know you wanted to move me for the next contraction, but I could already feel it approaching. Pressure was building and building, the baby pushing against my opening. With my ass still on full display I went down to my elbows, my forehead almost kissing the floor with my hips up pointing to the sky, and I succumbed to my instincts and pushed.

You held me steady as I pushed, watching in fascination as the bulge got bigger. The sounds I was making had turned primal, instinctual, and you could tell I had mentally retreated into myself and on the job I had to do.

“Oh my god… I think I can see the head!” You cried out after a forceful push showed the smallest sliver of the baby’s head appear just behind my lips.

~•~

My exclamation caused you to lose your focus, immediately stoping pushing and causing the sliver of the head to slide back in. Biology won out though as you were forced to push again only a few moments later and once more the first glimpse of our baby was clear to see again.

You grunt with relief as the contraction finally passed - with the head slipping back out of view again - but you were buoyed by my enthusiasm.

Jimmy, taking a moment to interrupt with a cough managed “sorry no towels or anything… it’s not intended to be used for ferrying the sick, wounded or I guess labouring mothers to be”

“Help me up” you gasp as you pull on my arms. I move around to grab you under the armpits and heave you up, you dress slipping back down your legs covering your modesty again.

“Here it comes” you grunt as you echo the position you’d been in only a moment ago, your arms under my armpits, one hand holding the other wrist, the other gripping tight to my tee shirt in a balled fist. You planted your legs wide and almost growled with effort as the next contraction ramped up.

~•~

My body trembled against you as I pushed, my arms so tight around you grasping at your clothes. Your frame the only thing keeping me upright, the smell of your aftershave the only thing keeping me from panicking. It was an effort to get up but I needed the gravity, something telling me to stand up, to bring the baby down.

“Oh god…” I moaned out heavily against your neck “I can f-feel the head…” my knees squatting slightly during the push, opening up for the baby to peak through.

But when the contraction was over, and the pushing stopped, the head slipped backwards and I whimpered a sob on your shoulder.

The effort of pushing had dampened the back of my neck and hair with sweat, and beads of it glistened on my forehead. Though it was early evening the sun was still bright and warm in the sky, making my temperature soar. Every pore of my skin seemed to tingle, aggravated by the fabric of my dress. My entire being was overheating. I felt like I couldn’t quite catch my breath; the air too hot, my skin too tacky.

I shifted in your arms, uncomfortable, frustrated. I needed to do something but couldn’t find the words. You noticed me pulling at the hem of my dress and knew what my subconscious was trying to do. Still holding me upright, your hands roamed my back and found the zip of my dress, pulling down, helping to free me from the cotton prison.

~•~

Your eyes opened as I reached down and grabbed the base of your dress, suddenly realising what I was doing. You stretched your arms out, hands placed lightly on my shoulders as my body raised up, pulling the dress with me as I went.

The first thing I noticed was the bump stopped the dress from coming up. I had to tug it a little to get it unstuck. I pulled it up over your breasts and over your head, then releasing it from one arm to the other until it hung loosely from my fist, draping on the floor.

The sigh of satisfaction as you felt the cool breeze rush over your exposed, overheated skin, instantly cooling you was palpable. You were now naked except for your sports bra you had put on this morning for comfort.

You gripped hard on my shoulders again, the next contraction building as you managed to grunt out “that feels so nice… but don’t you dare lose that dress. I need it to get home.”

~•~

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” You whispered back to me with a laugh.

I held on tight to you as the contraction took hold; my body pushing, squeezing, opening for the baby.

“Keep going baby, you’re doing wonderfully.” You offered words of encouragement against the moaning I was making in your ear.

“I don’t feel like I’m making any- mnghhh- progress.” I say releasing the push with a huff.

When the contraction had waned I shifted out of your hold a bit. Holding the underside of my low bump I swayed gently, facing outwards towards the stunning horizon, letting the cool breeze wash over my skin in the break I was given.

“How long til we land now?” I dared to ask our pilot, who’d been giving us a wide birth since I started openly pushing.

“We’re getting closer, I’d say just under 45 minutes.” Jimmy answered simply, completely avoiding looking in my direction.

“Do you reckon - hoooo… we’ve got any hope of making it to land before this baby c-comes?” I ask in vain, taking one hand off my bump to hold the side of the basket, my hips shifting round in wide circles.

Your hesitation gives me all the answers I need. Still you reply “Whatever happens babe, you can do this. And I’ll be right by your side.”

“Well you’re not exactly going to go anywhere.” I joke before a contraction suddenly strikes and I hiss through my teeth.

Standing in the a corner of the basket I grasp the padded railing with both hands, gripping the cushioning so hard my knuckles whiten. The baby presses lower and lower and I rock, and groan and push alongside its efforts. My hips jut backwards towards you, my back flat as I lean into the baskets edge, nearly wailing with the efforts of the push.

“Can- can you see… ohhhh…. Is it coming out now? Mghhhhh!!!” I cry out mid-push.

~•~

“I can see it baby, I can see it!” Even against all of my natural instincts to panic I’m getting invested in your progress and can’t help but get excited as things show progress. The bulge between your legs was now significantly bigger than when I had first noticed it, and whenever you were pushing, the head was forming into a genuine teardrop shape, though still not holding its place when you stopped.

“Shit” came the voice from Jimmy. Panicking, expecting to get some bad news, my eyes shoot over to him just to see him staring straight at you, focused clearly on the dark patch between your legs.

“Don’t you dare freak out or feint… there’s 4 of us in this basket relying on you to get us safely on the ground” I admonished. Jimmy in turn shook his head and thanked me, breaking his reverie and focusing back on the laptop.

Focusing back on you, you grunt as you push again. “You’re doing so good baby. I can see the head a lot when you push. Keep focused… if you want, you can reach down when you push and feel it yourself”

~•~

I tentatively release one hand's grip on the barrier, the excitement in your voice making me desperate to feel the baby. But I can’t seem to let go, the effort of pushing is too consuming and I’m scared to let go of the support. I give a loud grunt with a big push, feeling my lips starting to burn with the stretch.

But then it’s over, contraction faded, and I bring myself back up to standing. Feeling more confident without a contraction to let go of the support, I place one of my hands between my thighs and I can feel it; just behind my slightly parted lips is our baby.

“Oh my- wow!” I exclaim, making first contact with our child. “I can feel them, that’s our baby.”

“I know, and you’re doing wonderfully darling. We’ll be meeting them soon” You say, grinning ear to ear and stepping towards me.

“It’s got hair!”

“That’s not surprising, considering the amount you’ve got.” You joke and stroke the thick locks of hair that cascade past my shoulders, tucking wayward strands behind my ear.

“Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?” I ask, my fingers still delicately stroking the bit of head that’s peaking out.

“I’ve told you I don’t mind. As long as they are healthy and happy.”

“I know, I know…. I’m kinda hoping for a girl though…” I admit.

I feel the next contraction brewing, but I don’t want to remove my hand from my crotch. Instead I back into the corner of the basket, keeping one hand on my baby and the other flying out towards you for support.

My body sinks into a squat when the contraction hits and everything squeezes downwards. I take a big gulp of air and push… hard, feeling the baby’s head inch forward into my palm.

~•~

My hand reaches out to you, your hand on my shoulder and my hand in turn resting just under where your bra strap rests. As you sink down I follow you, ultimately ending on my haunches so I’m eye level with you. Whilst you’re desperate to close your eyes during the push you fight to keep them open and look into my eyes, my smiling demeanour giving you a level of comfort in this trying time. Suddenly I lean forward and place my second hand over yours so we are both cupping your lips. I feel the roundness of your hand as it envelops the bulge there and get in close. “Push!” I urge.

There’s no stopping you, your cheeks are puffed out and your brow is furrowed but you keep your eyes on me. Your mouth is wide and groaning as you make the effort but still we keep that connection.

My hand is pressed outwards as is yours as your lips part and your fingers rub the slick, surprisingly spongy mass slowly making its way out from between your legs.

You suck in your breath as you need a moment to get your strength as I say “again?” and you’re back at it, groaning loud and low, the hand on my shoulder grasping hard.

~•~

It was just you and me at that moment, the rest of the world completely shut out. You and me, together bringing our baby into the world.

My chest heaves with every rasped breath, my breasts resting atop the large pregnant swell that hung between my open thighs. My boobs had gotten bigger as I approached the end of this pregnancy and this bra was the only one that didn’t pinch.

Your eyes light up as we both feel the head sliding forwards into our hands. But the pain is astronomical and I’d lose myself entirely to it if you weren’t beside me right now. The baby fills even more of my palm and I can’t help but cry out “…Hurts…. Burning…” in between my laboured breaths.

The contraction starts to ebb away but I don’t want to lose this progress. It’s almost too much to bear if the baby slides back again now. I give a final long grunt, pushing as hard as I could while the contraction was still present, huffing as I release the push and hoping the baby stays put.

~•~

I watch in awe as I see you put incredible effort into a push, your face both incredibly contorted and at the same time, focused on it’s one task. Your hand moves away from between your legs, batting mine back at the same time. It twists and grabs my fingers, as my eyes sink down to the area that was previously covered.

Your hand squeezes my fingers as you let out a roaring sound, unlike any I’d heard so far. The hand on my shoulder digs in to the point where I’m certain your nails will leave embedded marks, but still my eyes focus between your legs.

In front of my eyes I see your lips spread around the head moving out, red, firey skin moulding outwards, spreading like a petal on a flower. The teardrop shape of the head, expanding outwards.

You gasp. “Burning… burning… burning, hurts” it’s almost incoherent babbling at this time, but whatever you were doing had some positive effect, as once I see your shoulders sag, right there between your legs was the most perfect oval of darkened, matted, soggy hair that I had ever seen.

“You did it baby!” I yell in triumph. That’s when I realised that you weren’t paying attention. It’s clear that at this point, there’s nothing you can do but focus on the ring of fire between your legs. It’s all consuming at this point, your knees are quivering trying not to lose control, your hands are squeezing and digging nonstop. Your eyes are closed and scrunched hard.

Youre gasping “Pull it out! Help me!” There’s nothing I can do at this point but sympathise as you struggle at this most gruelling stage of the process.

~•~

I can’t think, I can’t speak, I can’t move. I’m entirely lost in this moment; blinded by the pain of being stretched far beyond anything I thought possible. But it was more than just the spreading of my sensitive lips - my hips were wrenched apart, the baby shoved against my pelvis, the nauseating feeling of being so… full. I couldn’t take it.

My body started to tremble, you could feel it beneath the hold you had on my ribs and you could see me shaking in front of your eyes.

“I can’t do this!” I wailed, eyes scrunched and tears leaking past my lashes. “It’s too big! Uhhhh- fuck. Help me.”

“Oh baby…” you whispered, your heart breaking at seeing me in so much pain. “I know, but you are so close. You can do this.”

“I c-can’t!” I sobbed.

“Yes, you can. You are the strongest, bravest woman I have ever met. You can do anything, and you can do this. Just a little bit longer, I promise. Then when the next contraction comes, you push with everything you’ve got, okay? The head is almost here…”

I nod. That’s all I can manage. My head lolls forward, both my hands clawing at your shoulders, my entire body trembling, and we wait. We wait through agonising second after agonising second for the next contraction.

~•~

Soon it’s upon you. “It’s coming” you manage, before gripping me tightly again and dropping your chin down, closing your eyes and giving it all you’ve got.

I watch the oval shape between your legs quiver and a few seconds later start to move. You gasp, taking a breath and start again, still in mid contraction. More movement.

“Go! Go! Go!” I’m chanting, it seems to help. Finally your lips turn white, all blood drained from around them as they are stretched to their widest point.

You gasp and start panting, something primal in your memories from videos we have watched telling you to pant out the last push, and suddenly there’s a rush. You jump. There’s a gush of more fluid. My eyes go wide, and teary, what I’m seeing seems both the most natural thing in the world and at the same time the most unreal thing ever.

Deep in your squat, dangling between your legs, is the back of a baby’s head.

Your hand lets go of mine and reaches down to hold it. You’re bewildered, somewhat exhausted and sore, but you’ve accomplished a major milestone.

~•~

Gasping, my fingers delicately roam the whole circumference of the head that’s now outside of me. “Oh… hi baby.” I say softly to our child.

I look up at you and see the tears in your eyes. “Oh my god… oh my god…” I sob through my smile, not quite able to form any other words through the relief and awe of what’s just happened.

Your hand joins mine, cupping the head together as you lean forward to kiss me. It’s salty with my sweat and tears. “You, are incredible.” You whisper, our foreheads pressed together.

In no time at all, the respite is over and I’m squirming and shifting again in your arms from an approaching contraction. Letting go of our baby’s head my hands brace against my thighs.

“Hooooo- babe, need to move…” I groan, my legs and ankles suddenly protesting against the deep squatting position.

“Do whatever you need to do, where do you want to be?” You ask, trying to second guess what I’d want but also knowing I was acting entirely on natural instinct.

I couldn’t speak, instead my hands used your torso as a ladder - lifting myself up and getting down onto my knees, my feet pointed behind me in a v-shape. I felt instantly more stable, more in, kneeling so close to the floor.

The baby was on its way, its arrival immanent, I could sense it. Some primal instinct in my very DNA unlocked. I needed less physical support while on my knees so my hands released you, instead reaching behind to unclasp my bra. In my haste to remove my final layer of clothing, I forgot where we were for a moment and it was only on seeing your raised eyebrows I realise I’d whipped my bra off and casually thrown it overboard.

~•~

I couldn’t help it. I knew instinctively that I should be looking at you, but something made me follow the trajectory of your discarded underwear as I watched it soar over the side. My eyes followed it over the edge and as I lifted myself up off my haunches back to standing, I noticed the ground was very much closer than what I had expected.

“Jimmy… what’s happening?” I bellow out to our pilot. My brain went ‘he’s fainted, we’re going to crash’ and my natural instinct was to panic, but my eyes were drawn back to you, kneeling on the ground, hands back between your legs supporting the head of our baby. I couldn’t turn and look for him. Thankfully he returned the question with his own shouted answer.

“We’re nearly there. School field is just over there.” Relieved at his response, I briefly turned my head to look at him, to look at where his hand was pointing. I followed the direction and I saw blue lights in the distance. I saw a wide open area, which was the football and athletic fields of a school. I didn’t recognise it, but I knew we were nearly down. Your bra had landed in some unfortunate persons back garden. Might be some explaining to do for the occupants later.

I heard you grunt as my attention was drawn back to you. You looked radiant, like some sort of primal goddess, nude and backlit by the sun. I saw the baby had turned and you had started to push. Your grunts were audible as you pushed your hips forward, opening up the passage for the baby, your hands gently cupping its head.

Another grunt, and the first shoulder was free. A second grunt and the second shoulder. I dashed forward and skidded to the ground, stopping just in front of you with my hands skimming the ground between your legs, and more importantly directly under the baby which was out to its torso.

And with a triumphant yell from you, it flopped down into my hands, slick, covered in vernix, remnants of blood, and flooding my hands with yet more amniotic fluid.

“You did it baby…” I’m almost shocked thinking it’s all over.

~•~

Pure relief flooded through my entire body as the baby slipped into both of our awaiting hands. My mouth was dry, my brain in shock, and I’m only able to mumble “baby… baby…” over and over as I pick up the slippery newborn and immediately bring them to my bare chest. The need to see, to hold, to nurture was completely overpowering.

When the baby made its first gurgling cry against me I thought my heart may explode. I sagged back into the floor, exhaustion taking hold, and stared at the baby in my arms. Their little scrunched up face as they cried, their tiny hands with ten little fingers, their small feet with ten tiny toes. I had to see every inch of our baby, to check they were okay, and when I readjusted them against the curves of my body I announced “It’s a girl!”

You knelt next to me in the corner of the basket, looking over my shoulder totally transfixed and enamoured with our newborn. “You did it baby, I’m so proud of you!” You cupped my head and kissed the side of my face, my cheek, my shoulder, and eventually my lips. You couldn’t stop the emotional wave washing over you at the sight of your wife and newborn daughter beside you, wrapped in your arms.

I couldn’t quite believe it was over - the baby was here. Born in the basket of a hot air balloon. I stared down at our daughter and giggled to myself.

“What is it?” You asked, not able to wipe the beaming smile off your face.

“I can’t believe she’s here. That that just happened. That I just gave birth in a bloody hot air balloon!” The stress from the situation and relief that we were all alright had turned to exhausted hysteria, I simply couldn’t help the laughter.

“I guess she just wanted to make a grand entrance into this world.” You cooed, looking down at the infant already nuzzled against my breast.

“I think she might be a little troublemaker.”

“Just like her mother then.” You teased, kissing me again.

~•~

“Hang on tight” comes a call from Jimmy giving us a few seconds of warning where I grabbed hold of you as the balloon finally touched the ground with a thump. I threw your dress over you to cover your modesty as I got up to walk over and thank Jimmy for how well he had done in outrageous circumstances.

As I saw 2 paramedics dash towards the balloon as the gas valves were cut and the balloon itself started sinking to the ground behind us, I heard you give another groan.

“Baby?” I turn and look at you.

“I don’t know… another contraction.” You replied.

I dashed over. “No, can’t be. We had scans… there was only one baby in there.”

As the first paramedic threw their bag over the side of the basket at vaulted over the top I looked at them pleading.

“I don’t know what’s happening. The baby is born but she’s still having contractions. Is something wrong?”

“Let’s take a look see and figure this out, I’m sure it’s fine” came the professional sounding reply as his partner came on board.

They knelt down and looked you over, checking over the baby and declaring that everything was ok. They took a moment to clamp the baby’s cord, and rubbed your belly a little.

“Ok my dear… this looks good. Give me a good strong push” they instructed.

I gasped “is there another in there? We didn’t know.” The stress of the day was getting to me.

“No sir. Your wife is just ready to pass the afterbirth.” As he said it, he collected the placenta from between your legs and checked it over for completeness. “Well done, looks like this is about as close to a textbook delivery as can be… you know except for flying through the air whilst doing it.”

To say I breathed a sigh of relief would be an understatement.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Two

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Two: Saiko's Mansion

Summary: Saiko tries to impress people. It kind of works.

            “Saiki, (L/N), I hate to bother you,” said their teacher as classes ended on a day with, thankfully, much more manageable temperatures. “But could you take these worksheets to Saiko’s house? He’s absent today.”

            (Y/N) frowned. They weren’t a huge fan of Saiko since he’d abused his money and almost gotten their parents sent to remote areas of the globe. And he hadn’t proved he’d grown a little more humble or nicer yet.

            Saiki disliked Saiko for the same reason with the additional issue that Saiko had made (Y/N) cry. No one got away with that.

            But neither could say no to their teacher.

            Yare yare.

            Ah, shoot.

l

            So there they were, walking towards Saiko’s house, which would undoubtedly be something like a mansion or palace due to his riches. And, unfortunately, while the original plan was for Saiki to teleport them there to make this ordeal as short as possible, Kuboyasu, Kaidou, and Nendou had tagged along for no particular reason.

            “Unbelievable,” said Kuboyasu. “Why do I have to help that stuck-up nouveau riche kid?”

            “He’s trouble,” said Kaidou.

            “If you’re coming along, you should deliver the worksheets,” said Saiki.

            “Is it true that there’s a good ramen restaurant around here?” asked Nendou.

            “What did you come along for?”

            “Are we almost there?” sighed (Y/N).

            “We’re just turning this corner, and we’re there.” Saiki had been there before.

            Sure enough, they were met with a gleaming white mansion.

            “It’s huge!” exclaimed Kaidou.

            “That is one big ramen restaurant!” said Nendou.

            The gates opened to reveal Saiko. Flanked by a dozen bodyguards, he smirked condescendingly at their reactions.

            “What are you doing here?” said Saiko. “Did you come to borrow money? Poor peons.”

            “Saiko!” said Kaidou.

            “You skipped school, so we came here to deliver these worksheets,” said Kuboyasu. “By the way, weren’t you supposed to be in Dubai?”

            “I just flew back this afternoon on my private jet,” said Saiko.

            “That’s a lot of carbon emissions,” said (Y/N), shaking their head.

            “Oh, this must be that transfer student’s house,” said Nendou (he was a little behind). “This house is awesome! You should let us in.”

            Normally, I wouldn’t let penniless trash like them into my house, but maybe I should make them see just how amazing I am, thought Saiko. Okay, what the heck. It’s the only time you losers will have ever contact with this world.

            “Come on in,” said Saiko with a smirk.

            Yare yare.

            “Awesome!” cried Nendou as soon as they were within the grounds. “The place you live in is awesome!”

            Green grass cut around stone paths interspersed with statues and fountains surrounded the mansion. It was truly impressive, but due to Saiko’s general arrogance, he wasn’t getting much of a reaction from people (yet. Saiki didn’t have much hope for the stoicism of his group).

            “Really, it’s not all that great.” At least Kuboyasu was keeping up disinterest so far. “I mean, sure, it’s big, but the parking garage at the pachinko parlor in our neighborhood is bigger. After seeing that, everything just seems rather small.” I win, little rich boy.

            Actually, you lose. That was a terrible response.

            “Even this statue looks a bit cheap when you look closely,” said Kuboyasu.

            “That’s worth 100 million yen,” said Saiko.

            Kuboyasu jumped back from it. “Oh, god, really?! Right. Got it.” He did not want to break that. “About the same as the number of bacteria on a toothbrush. Not a big deal.”

            “What kind of logic is that?” said Saiki.

            “He’s trying,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            What an irritating guy. Whatever. Saiko looked at the rest. What about these guys? His jaw dropped open as he saw (Y/N) and Saiki speaking and not paying attention at all. What about—aha! Kaidou was staring in amazement. Saiko grinned. “What’s so impressive that you’re speechless?”

            “Those!” Kaidou pointed at a series of statues with weapons.

            “Ah, those?” Saiko smirked. “My father hired French stonemasons to make—”

            “Where’s the power switch?” said Kaidou excitedly.

            “What?” Saiko faltered.

            “They can move, can’t they?” asked Kaidou, smiling widely.

            “What?” Saiko frowned.

            “At first, you make use think they’re just normal statues, and then when we walk by, the boss attacks!” said Kaidou.

            What? Saiko was rendered silent in the face of Kaidou’s assumptions.

            “Come on, show me how they move!” said Kaidou.

            “They don’t move,” said Saiko.

            “They’re just normal statues?” All of Kaidou’s interest drained from him.

            Saiko stared at the group. The only one impressed is that guy! He looked at Nendou.

            “Let’s go check out the inside,” complained Nendou, bored already.

            I’ve had about enough!

            “It’s a pretty long walk to the lobby,” said Nendou.

            “Must be tough to do every day,” said Kuboyasu.

            Empathizing? Saiko sweat-dropped. He hated that. This is too much. I’ll show you penniless worms the glory of wealth! “Follow me!” he declared, stalking towards the doors.

            “This guy is wretched,” said Saiki to (Y/N).

            “I kind of feel bad for his need to show off,” said (Y/N).

            “Don’t tell him,” said Saiki. Saiko’s ego wouldn’t be able to take the pity.

            “Here!” Saiko threw open the doors of his mansion to reveal a corridor full of artistic masterpieces.

            “Wow, the inside is incredible!” said Nendou.

            “It’s okay,” lied Kuboyasu.

            “What’s with these weird paintings hanging everywhere?”’ said Nendou. “These are expensive too, right?”

            Saiko smirked. “Peons like you don’t understand their value, so I’ll tell you! All of these furnishings together are worth about 700 billion yen.”

            “They are pretty,” whispered (Y/N) to Saiki, not going to admit they were impressed to Saiko. Saiki nodded.

            “By the way, that painting is worth 2.3 billion yen,” said Saiko, pointing at the one Kaidou and Nendou were looking at. Bow down before me, you poor wretches!

            “Seven hundred billion yen?” Kuboyasu was struggling to come up with an insult this time. “Well, compared to Funassyi’s economic effect, it’s not that big of a deal.”

            What? Somehow, Saiko didn’t realize Kuboyasu was struggling and took his “aloofness” seriously.

            “If you rearrange those paintings, a secret door will appear, right?” said Kaidou.

            Oh, no, thought Saiko, realizing Kaidou would be bored when he found it that didn’t happen.

            “Something like this is worth 2.3 billion yen?” said Nendou. He had taken it down from the wall.

            Oh, my! Saiko grabbed it back. “You can’t just go touching whatever you want!”

            “You’re a bit stingy, aren’t you?” said Nendou.

            “Stingy?!” thought Saiko indignantly. You’re calling me stingy?

            “His self-image has shattered,” said Saiki.

            “Yikes, that’s never fun,” said (Y/N) like that was a day-to-day occurrence.

            I’ll give you all a surprise! decided Saiko.

            I’m over this.

            Saiko clapped his hands, and a manservant walked up.

            “Sir?”

            “Bring him in,” ordered Saiko. “Do you idiots have pets? Let me show you mine.” A tiger walked into the room. “This is Hanatora.”

            “Wow! It’s a tiger!” cried Nendou.

            There, that should get their attention! thought Saiko.

            “So cute,” said (Y/N), trying to keep their voice down, but it was just so cute.

            They aren’t scared by a fearsome tiger?! They just think it’s cute?! Saiko stared in confusion at (Y/N).

            “It’s about the same as having a giant housecat,” said Kuboyasu.

            It’s totally different! thought Saiko.

            “I wonder if this tiger is one of those man-eating tigers that killed its trainer?” said Kaidou happily.

            It’s not like that at all! Saiko was surrounded by weirdos.

            “Nice kitty!” Nendou and (Y/N) were rubbing Hanatora’s tummy.

            Oh, now you’re being nice! You usually just growl at me!

            Even your pet doesn’t like you.

            Okay, next! “Look!” Saiko showed them a velvet box. “I bought this diamond at an auction for 3.5 billion!”

            “Oh, what a beautiful marble,” said Nendou.

            “Put it in the eye of one of the statues so when you press it, they open up!” said Kaidou.

            “Okay, what about this?!” Saiko showed them a sculpture that just looked like poop. “This piece of art has even been on display in museums!”

            “Ew,” said (Y/N), still scratching Hanatora between the ears.

            “Well, the world-famous artist—” Saiko needed to defend himself and prove his impressiveness.

            “Oh, look at the time,” said Nendou. “We better get going.”

            “We overstayed our welcome,” agreed Kuboyasu as they headed to the door.

            “I’m feeling hungry,” said (Y/N).

            “Let’s get ramen,” said Nendou.

            “We always get ramen,” complained Kaidou.

            “I want coffee and a biscuit,” said (Y/N).

            “Café Mami.”

            “Hey, wait…” Saiko watched helplessly as they all left.

            So pathetic.

            Saiko fell to his knees as the doors closed. He narrowed his eyes. I’ve never been so humiliated! Next time, I’ll show you idiots something that will leave you dumfounded.

l

            “Rejoice, you penniless peons, I’m going to show you around my estate.” Saiko smirked down (literally and figuratively) at Saiki, (Y/N), and the rest of their friends who had visited a few days ago.

            “Who the hell wants to see that?” said Kuboyasu.

            “We were just there, anyways,” said Kaidou.

            “We can’t be bothered with that today,” said Nendou.

            “Let’s go home,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) nodded and smiled. “I don’t want to spend time with Saiko until he starts to humble himself.”

            “So never.”

            (Y/N) chuckled. Saiki frowned even more than usual as he opened the door to find bodyguards.

            “Sorry, but participation is compulsory,” said Saiko.

            “What the…” Saiki looked back at Saiko, annoyed.

            “You peons don’t have the right to refuse!” Saiko needed to prove himself. “It will only take thirty minutes, so get a move on.”

            “This is how he invites classmates to his house?”

            “Is this kidnapping?” murmured (Y/N).

            “Yes.”

l

            A giant question mark appeared beside (Y/N)’s head, and they tilted their head. Saiko’s mansion looked…different.

            “I don’t remember that,” they said.

            “Wait, was there an amusement park here before?” said Nendou, voicing exactly what had changed.

            Saiko’s mansion had become a giant amusement park, of course named “Saiko Land.” It was ostentatious and gaudy (and cheesy).

            “You came here before. This is my house,” said Saiko.        

            “It’s totally different!” exclaimed Kuboyasu.

            “Even you guys remodel your rooms sometimes, right?” said Saiko. “This is the same thing.”

            “It’s not the same at all.”

            “This is bulldozing the room,” remarked (Y/N).

            “You went this far just to impress us?” said Kuboyasu. “What kind of idiot are you? An amusement park? We’re not kids, so that won’t impress us. Right, Shun?”

            Kaidou and Nendou’s eyes sparkled as they looked at Saiko Land.

            “He’s totally excited!” exclaimed Kuboyasu. “Shun, don’t be fooled by his childish ploy! You’re just going to encourage him!”

            “Childish? Give me a break. I’m not into this at all,” lied Kaidou.

            “My father passed away before I was born,” said Nendou. “So nobody ever took me to a place like this. I finally have my chance to play.”

            Not even Kuboyasu could deny that was a good reason to go to the park.

            “Shall we go inside?” said Saiko. I can picture the surprise on your faces the moment you walk inside.

            “Act disinterested, no matter what,” ordered Kuboyasu to the others.

            “Yes,” said Kaidou.

            “I’m not interested so don’t worry,” said Saiki.

            Saiko put his hand on a scanner, and it beeped before the gates opened vertically.

            “Whoa! What a cool futuristic entrance!” Kaidou and Kuboyasu were giant suckers.

            “What happened to acting disinterested?” said Saiki.

            “Everyone has weak points,” said (Y/N). They knew Saiki’s—sweets.

            This is what you like, isn’t it? Saiko smirked at Kuboyasu and Kaidou’s reactions. Cool tech and cybernetics.

            The doors finished opened, and Kuboyasu and Kaidou’s amazement only grew.

            “A video game arcade in your house!” cried Kaidou.

            “From retro all the way to the latest machines!” said Kuboaysu.

            “And they’re set up so you can play any of them for free!” said Kaidou.

            “That’s not all! There’s a manga café over there,” exclaimed Kuboyasu. “From Naruto to Bungou Stray Dogs, a solid selection! And what everyone’s always wanted, a free drink bar!”

            “I’m tempted to check out the manga,” whispered (Y/N). “I really like Bungou Stray Dogs. There’s a character with telekinesis in it, and she’s so cool. I haven’t found the latest volume yet.”

            “Resist,” said Saiki.

            “I’m trying,” whined (Y/N).

            “This totally feels like a secret base!” Kaidou’s exuberance masked (Y/N)’s slight interest. “Pinball, darts, and a foosball game you see in American movies. And the exposed concrete is super cool!”

            “They’re hopeless,” said Saiki.

            It cost tens of billions, thought Saiko.

            “There’s a hammock!” said Kaidou.

            This house has everything a man could ever dream of! Saiko smirked. He was winning. I wonder if they can leave in thirty minutes?

            “Don’t touch that!” scolded Kuboyasu as Kaidou almost picked up a toy car. “Don’t be tempted!” He was still trying to resist.

            “Sorry, I just…” Kaidou pouted.

            It’s hopeless. Even I will be swept away if I’m not careful, thought Kuboyasu.

            “Hey, you middling peasants, take a look at the garage over there.” Saiko lifted his chin proudly. “Look at all those motorcycles!”

            Kuboyasu’s weakness. It was a solid hit, and he couldn’t help but stare. “Unreal! All my dream bikes in one place!”

            “Bullseye,” said (Y/N).

            “If you like, you can customize them,” said Saiko. “I have all the tools right here.”

            “Wow, even the tools!” said Kuboyasu.

            Aren is completely lost, thought Kaidou. In a situation like this, I’ve got to stay strong. He paused. That statue from before. Weird. He walked towards the exit. “I have to be resolute to make it out of here. There’s no way I’m giving in to temptation.”

            “Good job, Kaidou,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Creak. The statues turned to watch him go.

            Kaidou’s eyes sparkled. “They moved!”

            “And he’s gone,” said (Y/N), shaking their head with an amused chuckle.

            “Sorry, we can’t be a part of this,” said Saiki, watching the boys lose themselves. “It’s already been thirty minutes. We have to get going.” He turned towards an exit corridor.

            “Watch your step over there,” said Saiko. The lights switched open.

            Here goes Kusuo, thought (Y/N), eyes widening as giant, human sized sweets were revealed.

            “That whole area is made out of sweets, so be careful,” said Saiko. He held out a spoon and fork.

            Saiki grabbed them and dug into the wall.

            “What happened to being disinterested, Kusuo?” teased (Y/N).

            “If we leave now, he’ll just invite us over again,” said Saiki as a “defense.”

            “Uhuh, right,” said (Y/N), sitting down beside him.

            “All of these sweets were made in our in-house bakery,” said Saiko proudly. “Anything you want, they can make.”

            (Y/N) froze. “Bakery?”

            “Of course,” said Saiko. “What do you want—”

            (Y/N) nearly kicked down the door to the bakery, and their eyes sparkled. All the equipment, all the ingredients—it was a confectioner’s dream come true. Accidentally, Saiko had found their weakness.

            “This place is so cool!” said (Y/N).

            Saiko put his hands on his hips and grinned. “Come! There’s so much more to see!”

            After that, it wasn’t hard to take the group from room to room. Saiki ate every snack given to him and even rode a rollercoaster to earn some. Everyone rode the rides at the amusement park, bounced in a bouncy house, and relaxed in an indoor beach-pool. Unfortunately, the time slipped away from them way too easily.

            “Saiko’s house is so much fun!” said Kaidou.

            “I completely forgot this was a house,” said Kuboyasu.

            “I got a cookbook,” said (Y/N), shoving it into their bookbag.

            Saiki nodded. He was still eating ice cream, and he understood why they took the recipes. These sweets were just so delicious.

            “Now, you peons know just how amazing I am,” said Saiko, walking up to the group. “A completely different world—”

            “It’s awesome! We can’t compete,” said Kaidou. “You win for sure.”

            “You went to all this trouble to show us a good time, how could we not have fun?” said Kuboyasu.

            “Thanks for the gift,” said (Y/N), patting their bag. “It’s cool how much trouble you went to, even if it was kind of silly.” Still, they graced Saiko with a smile.

            “Went to all this trouble.” Saiko blinked. Now that I think about it, why did I do all this just to please these guys? I used my time and money and even found out their interests. He furrowed his brow. I did it to make them see how awesome I am. What was I thinking?

            “Thanks. Next time come over to my house,” said Kaidou, smiling. “Even the common people have some pretty fun games.”

            Saiko blinked in surprise at the gesture.

            “Yes! We will take you to the little candy store,” said Kuboyasu.

            Not interested.

            “I can make us all pastries,” said (Y/N).

            What a good idea.

            “Next time, we’ll provide the entertainment,” said Kuboyasu.

            The group turned to the door and started walking. Saiko was still confused by his own reaction to their offers (friendship wasn’t something he understood). Kuboyasu frowned and looked around.

            “Wait a second, where’s Nendou?” said Kuboyasu.

            “Still outside on the rides?” suggested (Y/N).

            “This place is so big he could’ve gotten lost,” said Kuboyasu.

            “That does sound like Nendou,” admitted (Y/N).

            “He’s an idiot.”

            “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him in a while,” said Kaidou.

            “Oh, hey there.”

            Everyone stared blankly. Nendou was stuck between the cybernetic doors, hanging there limply.

            “This is not fun at all,” said Nendou.

            “So someone ended up unimpressed,” chuckled (Y/N).

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[eevees-hobbies]

HIHIHI may I request some Sakura please, your greatness 🧎‍♀️ who despite his tough boi act, absolutely worships the ground his lover walks on and showers them in love (before, during AND after sex) oooou it’s rotting my brain i need him to cuddle me stat

Author’s Note: Ah, so you’ve come to me with a Sakura request, I see. And a cute one like this, too? I get it, anon…I do. I get it because you and I are a lot alike. Sometimes you like the idea of Sakura bending you over and delivering loud, nasty, toe-curling backshots to you as he talks shit in your ear (same, same), but other times you crave a different version of him. You crave a soft Sakura, a comfortable Sakura, a tame Sakura that doesn’t flinch when you touch him but instead leans into your touch and looks at you with absolute devotion, right? Me fucking too. So you want broken-in, house-trained, and domesticated, Sakura? My pleasure. 

Content Warning: Fem!ReaderXHaruka Sakura. Business (fluff) in the front & party (smut) in the back! Smut will be below the last divider. Sweet Sakura, who shows you love through some love-language type things. And then intimate love-making. You make love while half-asleep (mmm). Tame smut. Eve mentions Bridgerton again because there is now continuity in my stories, and I’m not sorry about it (don’t ask me about the show; I’m on season 1, episode 3, but I love the idea of it). Minors Do Not Interact.

Word Count: 2K

Divider by Saradika. Banner by me.

Sakura had watched you all day, and he hated what he was seeing. You two had planned a beach day on a rare day off for him and a light work calendar day for you. But when the universe hears about plans, it often laughs aloud and offers a wrench.

He couldn’t quite understand the intricacies of your work-from-home job beyond that shit was hitting the fan. You sat dutifully in front of your laptop, answering constant pings coming from god-knows-where and from god-knows-who to the point that Sakura felt he could time them perfectly. 

Ping

…

Ping

Yup, perfectly timed. 

And with each call or message you answered, he saw your shoulders rise closer to your neck, the tension making you hunch in a way you’d certainly feel later.

And he couldn’t help you with whatever the fuck KPIs or logic models were, but he could help you in other ways. So, he grabbed his keys and set out for the day.

As your workday concluded, your fingers found the bridge of your nose in an attempt to massage away the tension migraine that was rearing its head. Not only was today stressful, but as you looked around your empty apartment, you found Sakura to be gone. You hoped he wasn’t upset about not going to the beach, but you’d understand if he was.

As you stood out of your ergonomic office chair to stretch, ready to open the refrigerator to cook something up quickly, the door to your tiny abode opened. 

You let out a breathy laugh—Sakura is blocked from your line of vision, and only a few single tufts of black and white hair peek over the various restaurant and grocery bags in his arms. As you croon your neck to watch him struggle his way inside, you also see that he’s carrying a bouquet of flowers with an unmistakable logo tucked firmly under his armpit.

He’s grumbling as he sets the items down on the kitchen island; something about hating living so high up, but you can’t bring yourself to dial in on his ramblings as you read the names of your favorite places on the bags.

“You got us ramen, kitten?”

“Yeah. Miso with extra beansprouts like you like, with some Gyoza on the side. It’s probably cold since it’s like climbing a fuckin’ mountain to get up here, but I can heat everything back up.”

He begins removing food, snacks, face masks, popcorn, and drinks from the bags. Your heart pangs with remorse at even thinking he was upset about your inability to go to the beach. Sakura is complicated, but he’s not childish.

“Also, Umemiya said something about the flowers, but you might have to text him about that. I zone out when he starts talking plant-talk.”

“Same,” your arms find his waist, your cold hands sneaking up his shirt and rubbing at his prominent v-line as you wrap yourself around his whole person. “Thank you for this. I love you so much.”

Sakura blushes, a personal trait he’s tried to stop fighting long ago. “Sure, but go ahead and sit on the couch. New episode of Bridgerton tonight?”

You rub your palms together excitedly, “I’ll get the fuzzy socks, kitten!”

After getting through half an episode of Bridgerton, Sakura noticed you were fighting a losing battle with your sleep needs. Heavy eyelids and your head growing slack on his shoulder were all the signs he needed to turn off the TV and scoop you up in his arms.

“Bath,” you mumble against his chest. 

“Bath,” he offers in return.

“You sure?” he mumbles against your lips, “your eyes are barely open.”

“Mmm, but my legs are open, baby. See?” You wrap your thighs around his midsection, trapping him in and pulling him closer.

The heat radiating from your clothed cunt is undeniable, you’ve probably wanted him all night, and fuck, he felt the same way.

Sakura’s lips trace the curve of your jaw with gentle kisses and flicks of his tongue until his face is nestled in the crook of your neck. Your pulse is calm—so slow that he wonders if you managed to fall asleep until you shift under him and let out a sigh.

“Sakura...need you.”

“Yeah, babe. You got me. I’m right here.”

As he pulls the seat of your underwear aside, the slit of his cock already giving way to shiny droplets of precum, he sinks into you with a sigh escaping his lips at the familiarity of you. He can’t help but think of all the ways he loves you. Moments like this make him feel like the best version of himself—someone worthy of being loved and giving love. 

He briefly presses his forehead into the valley of your breasts, letting your slick walls adjust to his girth. You’re wearing one of his white tee’s and smell so unmistakably like him that he’s positive you put on his deodorant after your bath. The thought of being so connected that you dress and smell like him while still maintaining your own smell makes him want you more.

His cheeks rub against your breasts, soft and heavy even through the pesky fabric, and because even one barrier is a barrier too many, he is now lifting the shirt over your head and tossing it to the corner of the room. 

His cock twitches at the erotic sight of you, fully naked except with your panties shifted ever so slightly to the side, puffy pussy lips wrapped around his cock, and hole stuffed to the brim with him. He’d call it a fantasy if this weren’t his real life. 

His feather-soft touches—reserved only for you—cascade from your stomach down your hip before the idea of not moving and not making love to you becomes too unbearable. His hand grips one of your thighs, and he pulls his hips back slightly, dragging the length of him against your silken walls and then forward, your pussy so wet, so creamy, and welcoming for him.

In his mind, he’s giving thanks, thanks to the shitty universe that finally felt enough pity for him that he was blessed with you. 

He has to steel his resolve, however, because when he begins to think like this—think about how lucky he is to have you, to be buried inside of you—he’s prone to lose himself to you far earlier than he’d like and he wants this tryst to last. 

“Haru, feel so good.” your words are slurred and dripping with the slow drawl that comes with sleep, but your body is deliciously reactive for him. The creamy sounds of his cock mixing with your thick slick fills the room so lewdly and loudly that it makes both your cheeks heat up as your love is audibly personified. 

“You do, too. P-pussy feels amazing.” 

He loves you so much his heart hurts. His other hand finds yours, entangling his long fingers with your own. And the way you rub at his bruised knuckles, fresh from a fight, doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Even in your half-awake state, you still care for him and want to ease his discomfort. 

He slots his lips against yours where they belong, wishing that he could give you a more heated kiss, the kind that you like where he lets you suck on his tongue, but this is perfect, too.

You open your mouth, ready, so willing to accept him. He’d never say no to you, and he’s not going to start tonight. His tongue eagerly slips into your warm cavern and is immediately greeted by yours as he traces and flirts with it. 

God, the taste of you is perfect.

If he could drink every bit of your saliva, thick and minty, he would. 

Sakura pulls back, his chest aching a bit as he does so, but this question is important.

Breathy, soft whispers from a mind and body that is so lost in his lust for you can’t stop him from checking on your well-being. “Is this… you ok?”

“Mmmhmm”

His thrusts are steady and deep, practically slow, as he pulls out until the head of his dick stretches your tight hole to the thickest part of him. He’s then languidly pushing back in, savoring you and how you feel around him. He knows the feeling so well, yet it feels novel every time.

His eyes watch your face as your brows furrow; your tongue darts out past your lips to moisten them, the way your mouth falls open when he grinds the tip of his dick against your g-spot.

You’re so beautiful. 

His hand travels down and finds your clit. His thumb gently pushes the hood back, flattening the pad of his thumb he gently flicks at the sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re so warm and drooling with want from him that he lets out a whimper.

 “I love you.” 

Your breathing quickens, but you lap up his words like they are a scarcely available resource. When Haruka Sakura tells you he loves you, he means it. 

“Love you too, Kitten.”

“I want to make you cum. You think you can be a good girl for me and cum?” 

“Yes, baby, I’d love that. Almost there, please don’t stop, Haru.”

“No, never.” 

He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, moaning as your fingers rake through his hair. Every part of you is his favorite, but your breasts hold a special place in his heart. He sucks on them maybe a bit too eagerly, but you don’t seem to mind; as he pops each nipple out his mouth, they glisten with saliva and stiffen into needy peaks.

Your pussy is clenching him more now; he can tell that you’re close, and he loves that he can do this for you. 

His thrusts have picked up slightly in speed, but they’re harder—communicating more want—the headboard now bucking against the wall and making consistent banging noises. As your cum splashes out of you with every flick of his hips, your inner thighs and his abs being coated in nothing but your slick, you pull him down flush against your soft body.

You see your orgasm before you feel it like fireworks exploding in your brain and setting off each pleasure sensor as your eyes dilate. You get that wonderful lightheaded feeling that comes with taking too many rapid breaths in a short amount of time.

Sakura moans as you clench around him, your walls gripping the head of his cock and massaging that sensitive spot on the underside of his dick. He can feel hot, white streams of his cum pouring into you, filling up every inch of you until your walls are painted white with his seed. He gives you a few more final, deep thrusts to ensure that his nut is deep and buried in what’s his, his thighs trembling at the idea of you being stuffed to the brim with his love, making him absolutely weak.

“Mmm, pervert. Did you just nut inside of me?”

He pulls away, leaning across the bed to grab a towel that’s settled nearby—first to clean you up, dabbing at your folds and thighs, and then himself.

“Sorry, should have used your face for target practice. Go pee so you don’t get a UTI.”

He helps you up; your eyes are still half-open as he guides you to the bathroom. As he hears the click of the door and the sound of a steady stream hitting sitting water, he turns to continue his routine. 

Sakura grabs the previously discarded white tee, places it on the bed for you, and then heads to the kitchen. He grabs a glass of water and a granola bar, just in case, and places both items on your side of the nightstand. 

He looks down at the sheets and briefly considers changing them; streaky, white, wet stains stand out as evidence of your lovemaking, but he hears the sound of water coming from a faucet, and he doesn’t want to hinder your sleep any longer.

You exit the bathroom, rubbing your eyes and yawning. 

“Here,” he says, getting up with the shirt, pulling it over your head and down your body, and then guiding you back to bed.

You snuggle up next to him, and you drift off. Typically, Sakura might spend this time staring at you, wondering what you’re dreaming about as your face gives way to adorable expressions in your sleep, but this time, he joins you in your slumber instead.