#utopia sheets

[elbeetbetak]

Utopia Bedding Queen Bed Sheets Set - 4 Piece Bedding

100% Polyester Microfiber BED SHEET SET - Queen size 4-piece bed sheets set comprising of 1 flat sheet measuring 90 by 102 inches with a 2 inches self-hem, 1 fitted sheet measuring 60 by 80 inches with a 15 inches box and 2 pillowcases measuring 20 by 30 inches each with a 4 inches hem ALL-AROUND ELASTIC - The all-around elastic used in the fitted sheet makes it fit easily onto the mattress while giving a nice finish to the bed. “Buy now and enjoy a shopping experience that oozes quality and comfort!”

[caustic-caffeine]

I also designed a new character who I’ll be playing in a TTRPG. This character is separate from my worldbuilding (though perhaps I’ll integrate them into my world in the future).

Meet Maeve, the porcelain doll automation!

[insightcracker]

5 Reasons Why the Utopia Bedding Queen Bed Sheets Set is the #1 Choice for Comfort and Durability

Finding the perfect bed sheets can make all the difference in your sleep quality, and the Utopia Bedding Queen Bed Sheets Set is an ideal option for anyone seeking luxurious comfort combined with durability. Crafted from premium materials, this 4-piece set not only enhances your bedroom decor but also offers a restful and cozy sleep environment. With its superior quality, it’s no wonder this…

[kaiser1ns]

You couldn’t stop laughing when you scrolled through your phone, reading comments and watching endless TikTok edits that started flooding in after you posted that story—the one where you proudly wear an Itoshi Sae #10 Jersey at the Santiago Bernabéu. Fans were freaking out seeing you at the game, supporting your boyfriend and your phone doesn’t stop buzzing with notifications even when you are back home. 

“I can’t believe people are losing their minds over this,” you mutter between giggles, eyes glued to the screen as your latest posts get more views and likes than usual. Videos and articles keep popping up, cute edits of you and him together, paired with the most viral music.

You don’t hear him stir at first, but then the soft rustling of the sheets and a low grunt catch your attention. Suddenly, your phone is pulled from your hand and you blink in surprise.

“Stop giggling and go to sleep,” Sae mumbles, his voice sleepy because you woke him up again for the 4th time in ten minutes. Turning your head barely able to make out his features in the dark room, but you don’t need to see to know the exact expression he’s wearing—a tired frown.

“You will complain when I’m grumpy and annoyed tomorrow”, he adds as you pout, reaching out to try to grab your phone back. “But reading comments and watching edits is so entertaining! You should see the latest one they made of us, it's so well done!”

Sae doesn’t seem amused, instead of handing the phone back, he places it on his nightstand, out of your reach. Before you can do anything more that can disturb his sleep, he wraps his arms around you, caging you against him, His bare chest presses into your back, and you tremble at the cool touch of his necklace against your skin.

"I don’t care," he whispers because you know you'd be worse than him in the morning. "Goodnight." You huff, but the warmth of his embrace and the rhythm of his breathing start to lull you into relaxation. Despite the excitement from earlier, being here with him feels so relaxing, like you are in some type of utopia.

“Fine, fine,” you mumble, letting your body sink into his. “But tomorrow, I’m showing you the edits.” Your boyfriend sighs, clearly already drifting back to sleep, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile. "Sure. Tomorrow."

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

2025 book bingo time 📚

want a completely arbitrary set of reading goals for 2025? want to try something new in your literary diet but don't know where to start? just like a challenge for the sake of a challenge? just love a good game of bingo?

boy do I have something for you!

for anyone planning to participate, please know that I LOVE attention and talking about books, so I would be STOKED to be tagged on any and all updates about what you're reading or planning to read. I'm so, so excited to see all the different ways these prompts get filled, especially if and when they bring people away from the kinds of things they normally read. not to mention snag some new reading recs myself, hopefully!

and of course, I want to know whenever somebody gets a bingo - and ESPECIALLY if somebody fills the whole board! I don't have any prizes for you, but I can offer a sense of accomplishment :)

note that this is designed to be played as 1 book = 1 space, so even if you read, say, a fantasy graphic novel published in 1923 from an indie publisher that has a bat on the cover, you'd only cross off one space. I'm not a cop and I'm not in charge of what you read, so if it sparks more joy to check off multiple spaces per book then go nuts, but I am throwing that disclaimer out there.

EDIT: the 2025 book bingo challenge is now also on storygraph, thanks to @obi-wann-cannoli!

wondering what some of these spaces mean? seeking a couple recommendations to get you started? no idea what a zine even is, let alone how to make one? worry not! I have a guide to all 25 prompts, including recommendations + an example of what I'll be reading throughout the year to fulfill each space. read on beneath the cut!

Literary Fiction: I find that a lot of people are reluctant to check out literary fiction, as it’s often written off as not being about anything but adultery and divorce. If this is you, I implore you to take a chance, acknowledge that adultery and divorce are compelling sometimes, and also remember that lit fic has a lot more to offer than that. At Writer’s Digest, Michael Woodson describes literary fiction as “less of a genre than a category,” which “focuses on style, character, and theme over plot.” My recommendations include Raven Leilani’s Luster, Ocean Vuong’s On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, and Melissa Broder’s Milk Fed. 

I’ll be reading: Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar

2. Short Story Collection: You know, a bunch of short stories together in one book? It doesn’t get much more self-explanatory than that. Could be a collection of stories by a single author or an anthology—it’s up to you! I recommend checking out Mariana Enríquez’s The Dangers of Smoking in Bed (translated by Megan McDowell), Nalo Hopkinson’s Falling in Love With Hominids, and Kim Fu’s Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century. 

I’ll be reading: Your Utopia by Bora Chung and translated by Anton Hur 

3. A Sequel: It could be one that you’ve been meaning to get around to, one that’s not releasing until 2025, or the sequel to something you read to cross off another space on this very bingo sheet!

I’ll be reading: Heavenly Tyrant by Xiran Jay Zhao, sequel to 2021’s Iron Widow 

4. Childhood Favorite: Go back and read a book you loved as a child, tween, or teen! There’s no wrong answer here; anything from a YA novel to a picture book would be just lovely, and I can’t wait to see what people pick for this option! I’m not sure which of my old favorites I’ll be revisiting yet—should I go for the warm and fuzzy Casson Family series, or straight towards the mindfucky sci-fi of Interstellar Piggy? Or maybe I’ll go see how Artemis Fowl holds up...

5. 20th Century Speculative Fiction: For those not familiar with the term, speculative fiction can encapsulate science fiction, fantasy, and anything else that falls into the unreal. You’re spoiled for iconic choices here: the 20th century gave us Le Guin’s Left Hand of Darkness, Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale, Butler’s Parable of the Sower and Kindred, L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time, the beginning of Pratchett’s Discworld series, Diana Wynne Jones’ Howls’ Moving Castle, and countless others.

I’ll be reading: Dawn by Octavia E. Butler, love of my literary life 💜

6. Fantasy: Fantasy comes in a thousand different shades, from contemporary urban wizards with day jobs at the office to high fantasy spellslingers chasing dragons away from castles. Some examples I’ve adored are N.K. Jemisin’s The Killing Moon, C.L. Polk’s Witchmark, Fonda Lee’s Jade City, and Nghi Vo’s Empress of Salt and Fortune.

I’ll be reading: The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty  

7. Published Before 1950: This one could not be more straightforward if I tried. You have all of human history (or at least, all the parts that have surviving literature), just not the last 75 years. Dig deep! 

I’ll be reading: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, published in 1938 

8. Independent Publisher: Did you guys know that just five publishing companies (Penguin Random House, HarperCollins Publishers, Macmillan Publishers, Simon & Schuster, and Hachette Book Group) are responsible for 80% of books published in the US each year, and 25% of books globally? Break away from the big five and see what some small presses are putting out! If you need some ideas about where to start, check out this list of nearly 300 independent publishers with notes on what kind of books they put out!

I’ll be reading: Taiwan Travelogue by Yáng Shuāng-zǐ and translated by Lin King, from Graywolf Press

9. Graphic Novel/Comic Book/Manga: Despite my personal obsession with Batman, the world of comic books is sooo much wider than Gotham City—or anything else that DC and Marvel have to offer. If superheroes aren’t your speed, check out the Southern gothic of Carmen Maria Machado and Dani Strips’ comic The Low, Low Woods, splash around in Kat Leyh’s graphic novel Thirsty Mermaids, or stop waiting for a new season of Dungeon Meshi and go read Ryoko Kui’s manga, translated to English by Taylor Engel. 

I’ll be reading: The Fade, by Aabria Iyengar and Mari Costa

10. Animal on the Cover: Yes, yes, don’t judge a book by its cover—but do go find one with a critter on the cover and give it a read! Absolutely no other requirements here, get silly with it.

I’ll be reading: Shark Heart by Emily Habeck

11. Set in a Country You Have Never Visited: Fiction or nonfiction, doesn’t matter so long as it gives you a little glimpse of a country you’ve never visited in real life. If you’ve somehow visited every country currently recognized in the world, then I guess you get to go read something set in space.

I’ll be reading: A Magical Girl Retires by Park Seolyeon and Kim Sanho, translated by Anton Hur 

12. Science Fiction: A genre just as diverse as fantasy, with a little something for everybody! I recommend Becky Chambers’ Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet for those who want to kiss an alien in the stars and Jessamine Chan’s The School for Good Mothers for those who want a surveillance state dystopia that hits much closer to home.  

I’ll be reading: Womb City by Tlotlo Tsamaase

13. 2025 Debut Author: Read a book by someone who’s releasing their first book in 2025. Fic or nonfic, any genre, no further requirements. Not quite a free space, but pretty close!

I’ll be reading: Liquid: A Love Story by Mariam Rahmani, coming out March 11

14. Memoir: Per Wikipedia, a memoir is “any nonfiction narrative writing based on the author’s personal memories.” Some are funny, some are heartbreaking, some are both! I recommend Carman Maria Machado’s In the Dream House and Roxane Gay’s Hunger, because I tend to lean heartbreaking! 

I’ll be reading: Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner. Again, I like heartbreaking!

15. Read a Zine, Make a Zine: Not familiar with zines? No problem! Check out some of these digital archives for inspiration, and then craft your own zine with this simple guide (or do it your own way, I’m not in charge of you). 

Internet Archives: https://archive.org/details/zines

Gay Zine Archive Project: https://gittings.qzap.org/ 

POC Zine Project: https://poczineproject.tumblr.com/ 

Library of Congress: https://www.loc.gov/collections/zine-web-archive/ 

16. Essay Collection: Like a short story collection, but it’s nonfiction now. Some of my favorites include Samantha Irby’s We Are Never Meeting in Real Life, Elaine Castillo’s How to Read Now, Aimee Nezhukhumatathil’s World of Wonders, and Cathy Park Hong’s Minor Feelings.

I’ll be reading: A Little Devil in America: In Praise of Black Performance by Hanif Abdurraqib 

17. 2024 Award Winner: What award? Any award you like! And boy, there are tons to pick from. Any book that won any award in the year 2024 is free game. If you need some places to start looking, check out some of these:

Lambda Literary Awards, for excellence in LGBT literature: https://lambdaliterary.org/awards__trashed/2024-winners/ 

The Alex Awards, for adult books with crossover appeal for teen readers: https://www.ala.org/yalsa/alex-awards 

Ignyte Awards, celebrating diversity in speculative fiction: https://ignyteawards.fiyahlitmag.com/2024-results/  

Women's Prize for Fiction (self explanatory) https://womensprize.com/prizes/womens-prize-for-fiction/

Others: https://www.bookbrowse.com/awards/ 

I’ll be reading: Biography of X by Catherine Lacey, winner of the 2024 Lambda Literary Award for Lesbian Fiction

18. Nonfiction: Learn Something New: I know very little about archaeology, anthropology, or any other fields that involve studying ancient cities, but Annalee Newitz’s Four Lost Cities: A Secret History of the Urban Age was some of the most fun I had with nonfiction in 2024, because every page brought a brand new discovery. For 2025, find a nonfiction book about a topic you don’t know ANYTHING about, and learn something new!

I’ll be reading: Cooling the Tropics: Ice, Indigeneity, and Hawaiian Refreshment by Hi’ilei Julia Kawehipuaakahaopulani Hobart

19. Social Justice & Activism: Read a book about a social issue, the history of an activist movement, or brush up on a guiding philosophy or ideology. Arm yourself with knowledge, besties, because I have a feeling we’re going to need it! if you need a good place to start, why not try Angela Davis' Race, Women & Class, Mariame Kaba's We Do This 'Til We Free Us, or Molly Smith and Juno Mac's Revolting Prostitutes?

I’ll be reading: White Feminism: From Suffragettes to Influencers and Who They Leave Behind by Koa Beck

20. Romance Novel: Listen to me. Fucking listen to me. I mean a ROMANCE. NOVEL. Not a novel that incidentally has a romance in it. Romance novel, motherfucker. Go check out the romance section and have some whimsy as two people fall in love through the most contrived series of events ever conceived. If you really need a romance that makes you feel smart (that’s still sexy and messy as hell), try Akwaeke Emezi’s You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty.

I’ll be reading: Go Luck Yourself by Sara Raasche  

21. Read and Make a Recipe: Could be a cookbook, could be a recipe you yoinked from the New York Times, could be something your grandparents lovingly wrote down by hand. Could be as complex or as simple as you like, just make something tasty! Some cookbooks I’ve enjoyed are Sohla El-Waylly’s Start Here, Dan Pashman’s Mission Impastable, and John Wang and Storm Garner’s The World Eats Here.

22. Horror: Slashers, zombies, haunted houses, creeping paranoia, you name it! It’s time to get spooky and scary with all kinds of things going bump in the night. Maybe this is the year to finally keep up with Dracula Daily? Not for me, I'm not doing that, but you could!

I’ll be reading: I Was A Teenage Slasher by Stephen Graham Jones

23. Published in the Aughts: A throwback, but not too far back. Read something published between 2000 and 2009. Maybe it’s time to finally get into Twilight? (For legal reasons, that’s a joke.)

I’ll be reading: The Sluts by Dennis Cooper, published in 2004

24. Historical Fiction: You know, fiction that takes place in a bygone era! Please remember, this isn’t just about reading a book that’s old; we have a separate prompt for that! This is about reading something that takes place in the past relative to the time it was written. Pride and Prejudice is historical to us, but was contemporary when Austen wrote it. Think of Brit Bennett's The Vanishing Half, Markus Zusak's The Book Thief, or history + a bit of fantasy in book's like R.F. Kuang's Babel.

I’ll be reading: The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon

Bookseller or Librarian Recommendation: This one is fun, and something I always like to do when I’m travelling and visiting a new bookstore. Ask a bookseller or librarian to recommend something they’ve liked, and check it out! If going in person isn’t feasible, many bookstores and libraries have staff picks on their websites, and the Indie Next List is a monthly list of independent booksellers’ favorite new releases. 

I’ll be reading: The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse by Louise Erdrich, which I bought at Erdrich’s bookstore, Birchbark Books, this summer :)

lastly: tagging people who asked to be tagged to make sure they didn't miss this! @thebisexualwreckoning @perfunctoryperfusions @reallyinkyhands come get your bingo sheet!

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

NEWLYWEDS. 18+

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count. 987

summary. you and bucky spent the last night of your honeymoon not sleeping

warnings. 18+ only. little bit of body worship (includes foot kissing and titty stuff) unprotected pinv, lovey dovey vanilla smut. minors dni

requested here by angel 🦢anon x

With Bucky, passion and intimacy are things neither of you had to forge, two characteristics that felt effortless in your relationship.

Being newlyweds on your honeymoon was bound to intensify any love and affection you previously had, every touch and glance feeling like those firsts at the beginning. The entire vacation was filled with everything you dreamt of: late-night walks on the beach, dinners in quaint restaurants downtown, mingling with the locals and even sex in the shower overseeing the ocean. 

It was utter paradise, and neither of you wanted to leave. But tonight was your last night in your perfect little utopia, and you wanted to make the most of it. 

So now, after eating dessert on the balcony and watching the sunset, both of you were in bed, putting the super king bed to use for the final time.

You lay flat on the mattress, Bucky sitting on his knees between your thighs, each of your bodies bare - the sheets loosely encircling you both. Your legs bent, your inner knees skimming the sides of his ribs, your lower half merely enveloping him.  

His hands run off the bumps of your knees and down your thighs, his touch light and tender - simply caressing you with his eyes locked down on yours. His focus purely on you. His palms reach the very inners of your thighs before he reverses his touch - his fingers running back over your knees and down your shins behind him. 

He slips a hand under your foot and raises it, lifting your leg by the heel until it's level with him. He peppers the top of your foot with kisses, littering more around the inside of your ankle - maintaining eye contact with you below. He gives your other the same attention, practically worshipping you by peppering pecks around your feet. And then he places it down as he did to your first, setting it gently on the bed either side of him.

Leaning over you, he presses kisses up the sides of your throat, running along your jaw - circling your chin til he reaches your pretty parted mouth above. He mumbles against your lips before pulling away to resume his prior string of kisses - now working them along the opposite side of your throat, trailing down your collarbone and to your chest. His cock resting bare and heavy between your thighs.

His lips skim over the plane of your chest, ever so slowly working down to your tits. With one hand situated beside you for stability, his other is clasped on you - his fleshed hand flush with the skin of your side. He continues with his teasing line of kisses down to your tits, littering either one with faint, delicate kisses til he reaches your nipple. Giving each one the subtlest of attention before pulling away.

He peels himself away from you, sitting back on his heels between your legs - his fingers running along your stomach, touch light and teasing. He wraps his fleshed hand around his cock, his grip loose around the base as he guides his head closer to you. 

You slip your hand into his metal one, lacing your fingers in with his as he starts to graze the tip through your folds - the feel of it all making your mind fuzzy. 

He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand as he eases the head of his cock into you, the rest of him waiting for you to adjust. He hovers back over you in the same way as before - his vibranium hand beside your head for support, his other cupping your face.

More of his cock eases in, every inch of him slowly sinking into you - your pussy taking him at your own pace. No rush, no pressure, no effort, just your cunt sucking little bits of him at a time until you're full.

He stills, letting you accommodate him, allowing you the time you need to adjust to his cock. The faint, delicate kisses Bucky presses into your shoulder proves his patience.

"So beautiful," he whispers, looking down at you, thumbing over your cheek.

Your eyes soften, brows pulling together in the middle when you feel the faint wind of his hips - a small amount of his dick easing out, only to sink back in again. You reach a hand to the side of his face, fingers skimming backwards into the short strands of hair, keeping him close when you feel him do it again. It was as if you were seeking him for comfort.

He keeps his eyes on you, pretty blues half-lidded on you below him - watching your features grow pliant under his attention. And ever so slowly does he begin to pick up pace, little bits of his cock dragging in and out of you - his public bone flush with yours, the skin on skin alluding to the closeness of it all. 

You cling onto him with the mere increase in speed, your arms and legs wrapped loosely around his back and hips with the grinding motion - holding him close. 

Bodies entwined, souls weaved - both of you making the most of your final night in paradise, going slow and steady into the late hours of the night.

[fumifooms]

do you happen to have that page that talks about the beauty standards of each race?

Yeah sure. While scavenging pics for this I found this neat reddit compilation & chart & theory talk too. I had um, way more to say than I anticipated (I know you only wanted the one page. I have nothing to say for myself. Like most topics in Dunmeshi things snowball because they’re so interconnected. Mercy…) so, many races and observations are only mentioned near the bottom.

Beauty standards and race in Dungeon Meshi

Not pictured there’s also how elven society is harsh on visibly disabled people, and how the demon took away Mithrun’s silver eyes and ears to take away his pride. There’s also how Senshi might have fit in with the orcs more easily because of the dwarven wide body shape, and how they tend to have more body hair too I suppose. In the extra on orcs we see Senshi living with the orcs and he gets judged because of the hierarchy rather than his looks.

What is fashionable also differs from culture to culture, and there’s how tattoos only seem common with elves, though dwarves and others do also sometimes have some. They seem to not raise much brows, which makes sense since for many essentially they’re for professional (magical) purposes especially with elves. Gender roles also differ in type and importance, but generally they are similar to irl ones for the races we see. Elven society seems to be the least gendered, which would be an unsurprising logical outcome of having lesser sexual dimorphism aka they look more androgynous. Comparing fashions and gender roles and how they affect beauty standards would be a whole other compilation and conversation. Kui has great worldbuilding partially because she’s got such a good grasp on sociopolitics and geopolitics. History affects cultures and beauty standards greatly. Kui’s oneshot Distant Utopia was very eye opening on her way to worldbuild and the consideration she gives these things, I do really recommend reading it.

Out of the big 5, we know the least about gnomes, but their sheet does say both culture and region are similar to dwarves’ and they end up being confused together often, so we can imagine the beauty standards are similar to dwarves’ as well.

I wanted to touch on this in a post eventually, but how one daydream hour page said half-foots tended to be curvaceous like in the artwork below puzzled me for a long time, all the half-foot characters we see during canon are rather slender and lanky after all, Chil’s succubi also being more curvy than plump. Economics are for sure a factor in that I imagine, the half-foots characters we see are all implied to be some flavor of poor or malnourished, as are half-foots depicted as empoverished oppressed minorities in general. Even comparing the artwork with the half-foot sheet’s depicted average half-foot, the ones on the left seem bigger. Wouldn’t it make sense though, if unlike dwarves half-foots don’t have similar naturally wide bodies, yet due to idolizing dwarves they work towards having a similar body shape/type to emulate them?

It’s said half-foots tend to stick to pretty ethnically homogeneous regions (aka half-foots-only communities) unless they move to the big city with ambition to try and make it big (like Chilchuck and his wife & kids did), and that’s interesting imo because then that would mean that in a ton of half-foot communities, they rarely see or interact with dwarves whom they try to emulate. Of course, one thing about beauty standards is that when they get adopted, at one point it stops being "this is how dwarves look and so this is how half-foots should look" and just becomes "this is how half-foots should look", most people feel as though beauty standards aren’t learned but innate, so I figure the half-foots wouldn’t have any problem still seeking dwarvish traits when there are no dwarves around.

There’s also stuff you can glean here and there if you want to extrapolate more. Like how in the race swap artworks, Mickbell is only smiling in the dwarf portrait, and Rin’s elven portrait looks very close to her elven one- Rin who is stated to be beautiful in her profile blurb. Benichidori’s extra does teach us tallmen can definitely have harsh beauty standards, but also since the text portrays her as very dysmorphic that’s likely reflected in her thoughts to a much more intense degree than is common, not an accurate strict baseline to go off. Ah, Kabru’s blue eyes are also why he and his mother lived a rough life in Kabru’s hometown, but that seems to be regional. Good post here on the topic of Kabru’s blue eyes and ties to irl history. There’s a lot to be said about Kabru being a man that in many ways is close to elven beauty standards, and how that might have affected or been affected by his upbringing with elves + his persona as someone that can effortlessly charm most people. Marcille’s section here in this essay also goes into Marcille’s struggles to fit in with the ideal image of an elf.

Looking human

Also notable are beastkins and demihumans: Demihumans are all dehumanized which makes people treat them worse. So if you differ from the visual idea of "human" (an in-world subjective categorization just as much as demihuman is) most people do judge you negatively. Elves and dwarves get to fight about which type of human is considered the prettiest, but demihumans are below tallmen and half-foots, they are considered as simply below the beauty contest, incompatible with it.

Onis are perhaps the demihuman people we know of with the least cultural influence on the dunmeshi world, and with the least intensely different appearance than other demihumans—they seem to be technically categorized as human to people not from the eastern archipelago?— but even them are treated as lesser than human, treated as beasts to slain for reputation points or useful strength to have around and command. It’s said their "magnificient horns" and fangs are often shaven off when the oni lives in tallman towns, so you could easily make the argument that onis are denied the right to have their own beauty standards, having to conform to other people’s and going through mutilation to take away features they might otherwise have taken pride in. Inutade was bought by the Nakamotos from a dangerous sumo fighting ring that got one of Inutade’s tooth broken on her first and only fight, and kept as a low ranking servant ever since. Remember when I said different fashions existed in dunmeshi and how those could also affect beauty standards? Like the elves, if you look at the portraits pages which include a lot of characters that aren’t in the story you can see distinct cultures within the same races, for example one young elf is bald which is in sharp contrast with the usual elven long luscious hairstyles, and that’s especially true for onis I think. Maybe not only from different regions but different eras as well… They have a bit of population in the very north of the western continent, so I like to think some of the ogres live in very cold, maybe even subarctic or arctic conditions. The point I’m getting at here is that within a race, culture/ethnicity like with Kabru will also influence them it isn’t just tallmen as a whole, different communities will have differing beauty standards. The oni history blurb and third row first collumn portrait remind me of Mongolia (which historically was a lot of different nomadic communities with different cultural identities as well. Something something, the oni empire experienced a decline and then tallmen overpowered them, and now they’re governed and split apart by stronger social classes & slavers and the richness of culture was hurt for it especially if they have no real community left of their own), but obviously many of them are dressed and look rather japanese, makes sense considering living in/close to Wa, and first row second collumn portrait reminds me of ainus which again would be logical considering geographical placement, though I’m far from an expert. Interestingly, ainus are indigenous people both in Japan and Russia- Perhaps the northern western continent ogres are meant to be closer to Russia than Canada like I imagined? Ok tangent over.

The kobold sheet says they’re especially sought after as slaves because they’re "adorable", but locally in the western continent they’re repeatedly said to be seen more as ferocious and dangerous. The dehumanization is most apparent in the first comic below. The language barrier and conflicts no doubt worsen this by a lot, but I think it’d be hard to deny that their canine appearance makes the dehumanization worse. "They’re ferocious beasts, they’re demihumans, they can’t be communicated with". Most characters in Dungeon Meshi’s world are desensitized to slavery and most characters are prejudiced one way or another. Point being, kobolds are fully removed from human beauty standards, but no doubt for kobolds, other kobolds are more beautiful than humans are. They’re assumed to be an uncivilized bunch, but just like any other people they like to adorn themselves with nice clothes and jewelry and keep themselves clean and groomed; they too take care of their appearance and take pride in it.

And the orcs! This one we have the most contact with in canon, with not only there being foreigner characters from the ethnicity or hearsay of their homelands and culture but full on contact with a community. We get to see up close what they’re like and what they think, and of course in turn they’re our introduction to how demihumans are harshly looked down upon and seen as inferior, less human and thus less worth valuing and less dignified. It’s text that orcs are ugly to most humans and humans are ugly to most orcs. Since I judged they didn’t need accompanying explanation the pictures showing this are in the pictures dump at the top.

God forbid you sell vegetables to orcs my god- but then again they do basically mandate adventurers to kill any orcs they come across so yeah the world isn’t above that even a little bit.

So yes, my main point here is simply that orcs are yet another evidence of the physical ideal of "human" being an important beauty standard for human societies globally.

Izutsumi is our glimpse at how beastkins are treated in the world, and in Wa at least that’s ending up being caged and mistreated as part of a freak show. Izutsumi hates her appearance and wishes she could leave the feline part of herself behind to only be human. Interestingly, not that we have a lot of info on them so this is very much a take with a grain of salt situation, but there seems to be less stigma around artificial beastmen, those who can shapeshift at will. The main difference is of course appearance, that most of the time they simply look like average tattooed humans. Artificially creating humans is an illegal practice, and no doubt it’s not well regarded, but being able to hide that makes them less likely to be discriminated at any moment, or even just discriminated less intensely. Again, looking human is important, not only for belonging but for safety’s sake. Beauty standards rule the world with harsh hands.

Mermaids and fishmen

Ok we’re done now right? Right-! But wait… Wait…! Mermaids and fishmen are said to be demihumans too, special separate cases to the main three demihuman species however, which is also represented by how mermaids and fishmen both are in the Adventurer’s Bible chapter Monsters meanwhile ogres, kobolds and orcs are in the chapter World. They’re an interesting topic because they directly tackle this topic, not only in a meta way for the readers but also making characters themselves struggle to quantify their humanity with the goal of knowing wether they should be eaten or not, especially Chilchuck. Chilchuck’s "is it really just a matter of feelings?" mini arc.

The party asking themselves "Should we eat this?" is very common, and often they end up playing a little loose on morality, like eating the red dragon’s meat despite it having digested Falin. Not unsimilarly Marcille freaks out a little over the vegetables they harvested having been grown with fertilizer, aka largely human poo. Half of the motivation of "should we eat this perhaps sentient creature" is out of consideration and compassion, but more strongly and more often, the characters struggle with a sense of taboo at eating something too closely related to humans. Even, feel uncomfortable because of the deepseated impression that eating it would dirty them in some way. Cannibalism is an interesting and relevant topic in many ways, but what I want to mention is how there’s the more or less universal belief that committing cannibalism inherently taints you as a person and turns you more monstrous, morally but also literally depending on some myths such as w*ndigos and onis in some cases, like in Touge Oni. Marcille and Izutsumi both express a fear of eating monsters turning them monstrous. Maybe this is part of what Laios was hoping for, honestly. There are two fears here, if eating a demihuman monster constitutes as cannibalism or not, and so, will eating it taint you because it’s a human, or will eating it taint you because it’s a monster? You are what you eat, until it’s a little too literal. You morally are the means by which you get your food, and you physically are the result of your nutrition. Dungeon meshi manages to mix an exploration of humanity with the theme of food because our relationship to food is very deep and complex, psychological as much as physiological.

In the end, the characters sort of shrug and accept that they’ll never quite understand the world of mermaids and fishmen and how they operate, and what that means about them. Laios is the one always challenging these notions other characters take for granted, it’s not obvious to Laios why people are softer on mammals than other animals and plants, it’s not obvious to Laios why people would be afraid of eating a monster just because it’s a monster, it’s not obvious to Laios why some food is gross to Marcille but not fish testicles, it’s not obvious to Laios why you should immediately regard orcs and kobolds badly.

"Cows are probably closer to humans [aka closer to being human] than fishmen, though they’re clearly intelligent", dehumanization to lessen empathy towards them to be able to eat them. Meanwhile, mermaids seemingly have a less noticeable "civilization" or intelligence, they hunt in groups like fishmen, but they don’t use tools and such, they feel more primal and similarly instinct driven, and yet… Do they attract sympathy more? Mammals, humans, is it because of their nature or because of their appearance?

Both the nature and appearance of fish are ones people don’t typically sympathize with. "Fish don’t feel pain", "goldfish only have 5 seconds of memory", "it’s okay to keep fish in completely empty bowls too small for them until they die from it", so many lies and misconceptions exist that make people less considerate of them. The average lifespan of a goldfish is 10-15 years, the record is 43, but they’re not seen as lives that really matter, so a lot of goldfish die in a few weeks of bad aquarium conditions. There’s a lot of research on animals evolving to look cute and appealing to make some predators want to kill them less and parents want to care for them more, including humans. First good google research result gave me this credible short article on the topic. In Chilchuck’s weighing wether a fishman is far enough from being human or not to eat, "face is 100% fish" is his biggest argument for it being more acceptable. The face, the most important thing for empathy and recognition. The face, the decapitated fishman one that falls into his hands next chapter.

To quote @room-surprise: "Chilchuck can't explain why it's wrong to eat the merpeople, even though it's NOT complicated. But the problem is Chilchuck would have to accept and acknowledge that the merpeople might be people? And that's outside of the worldview he passively believes, so he can't just say that, because he doesn't think that's true. But that IS why he "feels" it's wrong. And it's all you'd need to say for Laios to understand! But it would require acknowledging that maybe the way they're treating and talking about the merpeople is wrong."

The idea of Chil not being able to grapple with how maybe some monsters are more humans than they seem, him who had been an advocate of half-foots rights, half-foots who get undermined and treated as inconsequential sacrifices… Grappling with how he could relate to the merpeople’s situation almost, and pulling away because it’s so existentially horrifying. I do not want to see myself into an hostile fish-faced warrior I can’t communicate with. In a way this also relates to Chilchuck being the only party member who doesn’t see Izutsumi as a cat in the relationship chart, the only one to treat her with full human dignity. He knows the struggle to be taken seriously, he knows being infantilized and he knows what it’s like to be treated as less than human.

Below, you will see Chilchuck draws the line of where they become not okay to eat as when "they already look like mermaids". Above, there’s speculation that the algae hair is partly to mimic "the mermaids’ beautiful female form". Is it because mermaids are their enemies and the ambiguity might give them extra seconds to attack or flee? Is it to trick adventurers instead? It’s striking to me that this is what works, with the adventurers. Sure the fishmen are intelligent, but explicitly here, what makes them no longer acceptable prey to Chilchuck is that they look close enough to a mermaid, close enough to human. Mermaids who of course themselves have this form to entice and seduce and charm the adventurers they prey on. Chilchuck considers the intelligence due to the tridents, but most of his internal debate centers around their appearance, and the image of a fishman skewered sickens him. The power of mimicry… Mimic being a beautiful human woman. Mimic being cute, babies being wired to make us feel protective and softened. Half-foots, sometimes pretending to be children for scams or help or avoiding trouble.

The mermaids are only concerned by their differences and not their similarities, and have no trouble treating the fishmen as food rather than peers. To an outside perspective like us, the audience, all these categorization of "more human" and "less human" between onis and orcs and elves and tallmen etc seem stupid and unfounded, but to the people living in Dungeon Meshi’s world, elves may as well be mermaids while onis are fishmen, not alike at all, unworthy of empathy and thus fine to eat.

Ultimately, Dungeon Meshi promotes unity. It’s about seeking to understand the unknown and the misunderstood, the dehumanized and the inhuman. It shows the good that comes from seeking to understand what you do not, even when that’s one another.

[chilling-seavey]

Don't Worry Darling (gr63)

↳ A/N The best part about watching movies as a writer, is being inspired to write my own spin-off of the plot. I was absolutely gagged when I watched DWD and this came of it.

↳ Inspired By Don't Worry Darling (2022)

↳ Summary: Married and thriving in an idealised community based on routine, gender roles, and arguable paradise, you and George seem to be just as perfect together as the utopia you live within - but not everything is as it seems on the surface.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Wife!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 21.7k

↳ Warnings: 18+, gender roles, smut, oral (f reciving), breeding kink to the maaaax (and the applicable dirty talk to go along with it), one or two instances of 'mommy' and 'daddy' but not in the spicy sense, unprotected sex (we're trying to make a baby here, people), some descriptions of sickness, brief mention of suicide, some mention of medical content, dark undertones.

The summer sun danced across the freshly cleaned carpeted floors, lining perfectly with the horizontal streaks from the vacuum that had been taken to it only a few moments before. The single storey house smelt of fresh linen and citrus cleaning products and the full glass windows sparkled brilliantly in the early afternoon sun. Outside in the backyard, the two rows of clotheslines were hung over pristine green grass and the crisp white sheets were hung perfectly over each line and pinned precisely on each end. The wind rippled through them in the calm breeze, wafting clean scents across the trimmed backyard and tended garden of flourishing flowers. 

In your pastel blue dress, the empty laundry basket rested on your hip as you returned inside from tending to the laundry, a gentle whistle on your lips to a tune you couldn’t quite place but had been stuck in your head for a few days. Your white kitten heels walked silently across the perfectly vacuumed carpet back towards the mudroom that was tucked beside the garage and took the last load of laundry out of the washing machine to place in the basket. 

The crisp white dress shirts were hung on the clothesline in the backyard beside the clean sheets, pinned delicately by their shoulders so the wind could take their freshness and dry them in the summer air. 

Rain was never a concern as the neighbourhood in which you lived never had a day of spotty weather. In fact, since the day you and your husband moved into the desert oasis town, there had been nothing but comfortable temperatures and clear skies. It was just another confirmation that your decision to move out of your every-day society and into this private section of the world was the correct one. 

Running your hands down the front of the final clean dress shirt, you leaned in towards it to inhale the fresh scent of fabric softener that encapsulated the fibres and filled your senses with the familiarity that was your husband. With him away at work during the days, one might think that you would get lonely. On the contrary, there were always things for you to take up your time with. If you weren’t cleaning the house for his return, preparing dinner, or tending to the garden, you had lots of opportunities to visit the shops in town, lounge by the pool with the other ladies in the neighbourhood, or attend ballet classes where you could. Life had no stress. Life was perfect. 

With the laundry drying in the yard, you returned inside to begin preparing dinner. Your white apron was tied around your waist and you flipped open your recipe book to select your evening meal. Missing your husband a little extra that afternoon, you decided to make his favourite for his homecoming. 

On freshly scrubbed countertops and over the sparkling clean stove, you prepared the meal for him delicately and with nothing but your utmost attention to detail. He deserved nothing more than perfection. The meat was seasoned by your careful manicured hands and laid in a bed of onions and potatoes and spices in the oven to roast, the timer set for an exact hour. With the vegetables cooking on the stovetop and the counters washed down from dinner prep, you began to set the dining table for two. 

The china dishes that had been a wedding gift were set between carefully placed sterling silver cutlery and two slim candles were lit in the centre of the table. You crouched in front of the fireplace that divided the dining room from the living room and lit the flame, making sure it caught on the kindling before you shut the glass to protect the pristine home you kept from the smoke or flame. On your way back to the kitchen, you dimmed the dining room lighting down to a romantic glow and stopped by the record player to set one of your shared favourite records to play softly in the background. 

When the clock struck 5:00, you had just placed the roast on the table alongside the dishes of vegetables and salad and you hurried across the carpet floor towards the bar. Your apron was pulled off and tossed under the counter and out of sight and you quickly poured a perfect amount of golden liquor into a crystal glass and took it with you to the front door. The moment you reached the foyer, you had just a second to make sure you looked your best in the mirror by the door as the headlights flashed through the frosted glass window down the left hand side of the front door. 

The sound of footsteps on the front porch guided you to open the door with an eager smile, revealing your husband on the other side. In his work shoes and black jacket, his hand was tucked casually in the front pocket of his slacks with his briefcase in his other hand. He wore no tie but the buttoned up white shirt that you had ironed for him that morning was already slightly creased from his long day and would require laundering. But your attention was all focused on his perfectly gelled brown hair and his loving eyes that sparkled in the warm light that surrounded you. 

George was already smiling as if anticipating your usual greeting after a long day away and he stepped over the threshold of your shared home and set his briefcase by the door without tearing his eyes away from you for a second. 

“Welcome home, sunshine.” you said sweetly, offering out his drink. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” he whispered adoringly, stepping closer to you and he slid his hands around your waist to rest against the small of your back and he pulled you right up against him for a swift kiss. 

Your free hand easily wrapped around his shoulders as he walked you backwards farther into your house, the two of you sharing love-sick kisses after a long day apart. 

“How was your day?” you asked softly, when he pulled away from you for a half second to lick his lips.

“Absolute shit until now.” George whispered back, moving right in once more and he let one of his hands raise to cradle your jaw and guide your lips back on his. He lingered on your mouth for a second before his hand finally dropped to take his glass from you. 

“Then it’s a good thing I made your favourite.” you said, starting to unbutton his jacket for him as he sipped his drink all while staring at you and leading you both farther into the house and towards the dining room. 

“Mhm?” George blindly set his still half-full glass on the kitchen counter with a dull clink as you both passed by briefly so he could pull you back in for more kisses. 

You smiled against his mouth and your hands rested daintily against his chest as he leaned into you, expertly keeping up with the way his lips locked with yours in feverish kisses as if he had been too deprived of you. His large hands cascaded down your body and over your hips, steering you towards your perfectly set dinner table under the ambiance of the romantic music crackling from the record player and the fireplace flickering nearby.

“Cleaned the whole house for you too.” you continued between kisses even as your hands pushed his jacket from his shoulders and let it fall to the crisply vacuumed carpet. 

“Yeah, it looks so good, darling.” George breathed into your mouth as his hands grabbed your thighs and he hiked you right up onto the end of the dining room table. 

In all reality, he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you from the second you opened the door for him. The entire house could have been trashed and graffitied and he wouldn’t have even batted an eyelash because all his focus was on you. It had been that way for as long as you could remember - ever since he first laid eyes on you - and your honeymoon phase only followed you well into your first year of marriage. The whole neighbourhood knew that well. No one was as perfect for each other or as perfect together as you and George were.

Eyes locked, you were breathing heavily into each other’s open mouths as his hands helped themselves up your skirt and you shifted to help him tug your panties down your legs. They were easily tossed to the floor and George’s lips went for your neck, trailing impatient wet kisses down your skin until he was dropping to his knees at the head of the table. 

“Oh, I missed you.” you breathed to the ceiling as he bunched up your dress around your waist and then dragged his tongue right between your legs. Your sharp inhale had him doing it again before he was wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling your legs over his shoulders. 

You fell onto your back against the table with a gasp, your hands knocking the salad bowl to the floor without concern as you messily caught yourself against the wood top. The simple touch of his mouth against your cunt had your breathing falling shallow and you gasped to the peaked ceiling of your mid-century home as you laid out on the dining table like you were dinner itself. 

George hummed gladly against your pussy as he warmed you up with filthy wet kisses. He acted like he had been deprived of you for weeks but in reality it had barely been twenty-four hours since you found yourself in a similar position. Your relationship really had nothing but strength in all aspects behind it. 

The feeling of his warm wet tongue gliding up flatly between your lips had your back arching off the table with a strangled gasp and your hands flew above your head to try and grab onto something, only knocking off the two place settings you had so meticulously set. The carpeted floor caught them delicately and without much of a sound but you were all too focused on the way George’s mouth felt to care about anything else. He lapped filthily at your clit as your breaths turned into moans and he nuzzled his face deeper into you, having craved you all day. 

“George-” you gasped to the ceiling, eyes screwing shut as he flicked his tongue over your clit in quick patterns. “Oh my God.” 

He moaned up against you and let his fingers press into the flesh of your thighs as he held your legs over his shoulders hungrily, playing with your swollen clit until your toes were curling and your back was arching. The filthy slurps and smacks of his mouth and tongue against your pussy were arousing and they easily drowned out the sound of the gentle record player across the room, harmonizing perfectly with your breathless whimpers and moans that were all for him. 

He was ruthless with it, eating you out like he wholeheartedly craved you until you were writhing against the wood dining table. Your hands flew down to his head between your legs and your fingers raked through his styled brown hair to tug pleadingly on the roots to feel him closer, to feel more of him. Mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed with pleasure, you peered down your body towards him but the voluminous skirt of your dress hindered your view slightly. Instead, you let your head fall back against the table, your back arching, and you let him urge the moans from your chest. 

“Fuck, baby.” you choked out, pulling at his hair harder. 

His tongue on your pussy had you quivering and he knew you like the back of his hand; always knowing right where you needed him and how to make you see stars. He tugged you a little closer to the edge of the table so he could get more of his mouth on you and his hands pried your thighs open wider, giving him full access to every inch of you. 

Your moans grew louder, pitchier, your hips trying to grind against his face as his tongue ravaged your clit mercilessly until you were flushing warm all over and aching for release. One of your hands reached above your head to grab the edge of the table, swatting the bowl of peas and carrots to the carpet blindly as you did so but you didn’t care. You were all too hung up on him and his perfect mouth. 

“Oh, darling-” you cried to the ceiling, “I’m gonna cum-”

George kept his tongue on your clit, lapping quickly at it at that same consistent pace that made you dizzy. Gasping and moaning through the romantic air, you let him take the pleasure from your veins until you were falling perfectly silent and your eyes rolled shut as your back arched helplessly off the table. 

George’s deep moan against you sent shockwaves up your spine as he licked and suckled at your cunt as you came for him, soaking his mouth in your creamy liquids that satisfied his cravings just so. You completely sobbed out his name once the height of your orgasm washed over you, your fingers clutching his hair to hold him against you just a little bit longer. He pulled away with a sharp inhale and a lick to his lips, standing up smoothly to let your legs fall gently back to the edge of the table. 

You brushed your hands over your once-tidy hair and peered down your body to where he stood at the head of the table unbuckling his belt with nothing but the strongest lust in his eyes. You hiked up the skirt of your dress some more and smeared your fingers through your messy cunt that was shimmering wet for him and from him. 

“Come here.” George ordered lowly as he kicked off his shoes across the carpeted floor and let his pants follow before he was sitting himself down on the stray dining chair, his hard cock standing stiff and swollen with need for you. 

You were still shuttering from your orgasm but you pushed yourself up from the tabletop and slid off the edge to land on your feet, your heels catching you silently against the carpet. He patted his thigh and then held out his hand to you, encouraging you over and helped you to toss a leg over his lap to straddle him. George shuffled up the large skirt of your dress and you helped him pull it over your head and drop it to the floor behind you, leaving you in only your bra and him in only his shirt as your lips found each other’s again. 

His hands groped your ass, pulling you closer to him hungrily as your lips smacked wetly together amid tongue-led kisses. Your arms around his shoulders allowed your fingers to tangle in his hair and you pulled his head closer until he was leaning into you to keep kissing you, sharing moans and breaths of nothing but pure erotica together. 

“Oh, baby.” you breathed out of your heated kisses, tilting your head back as his lips magnetized to your neck and your hands cradled his head adoringly. 

“I want you on my cock.” George spoke lowly against your neck, “I want you bouncing on my fucking cock.” 

“Yes, please.” you shifted on his lap to rise up slightly with your feet planted on either side of him and he reached down to angle his dick for you. 

With your hands on his shoulders, you slowly sunk down on his dick to feel every inch of it stretching you out snugly. Mouth falling open, your thighs met his lap and you moaned shakily at the warm stretch he gave you, swirling your hips lazily to feel him everywhere. 

“Good girl, darling.” George praised, resting back against the chair with his hands securely on your hips. 

Right away, you began to bounce on him, using the anchor of your feet on the carpeted ground on either side of the dining chair to keep you supported. You leaned your head back with a gentle shake to get your hair out of your face but kept your hands on his shoulders with your fingers gripping onto the once ironed white fabric. 

“Fuck, that’s my good fucking girl.” George praised through his teeth. 

“Oh my God.” you groaned out shakily. 

You were addicted to the clap of your skin together; the filthy lewd sound that was proof of your undying love and devotion to each other. How you were the pair that everyone else envied. 

When your eyes met, you could feel your insides fluttering from only his stare and the stormy mixture of love and lust that settled behind his gaze. Fingers tangled in the back of his hair, you held him close as you greedily fucked yourself on his lap, completely salivating at the feeling of his generous cock sheathed so perfectly inside you. It was hard to keep your eyes open with the pleasure that surged within you but your husband’s stare was completely addictive. He stared at you like you were the world and with his hands on your hips, he helped you guide you through your bounces until you were choking out the sweetest moans. 

George pulled you close by your waist so you could rest right down against his chest and your arms went right around his shoulders, allowing you to share another sloppy kiss as your bounces moulded into purposeful grinds. You moaned into each other’s mouths as your pussy gripped around his cock with each roll of your hips, your feet still tucked in your heels looping around the back legs of the dining chair to five yourself some added leverage to help yourself to his body. Grinding on him back and forth, a little faster, you broke your kiss with a soft gasp, letting your head fall backwards and his lips found your neck. 

George’s hands groped your ass and he pulled you into your motions steadily, making sure you were able to feel all of each other as much as possible. His teeth sunk gently into your flesh where your neck met your shoulder and he groaned tightly against your skin as you ground down on him faster, harder, whining for more. He spanked your ass before gliding his hands up your back and he let his furrowed gaze find your face, staring at the pleasure that took over your features. Your hands gripped the back of his hair and the back of his shirt, rolling your body against his hungrily as your lips were drawn together again. 

Both of you shared hungry moans and sloppy kisses as you ground yourself down on his dick and rode him purposefully on the dining room chair. The dinner that hadn’t been swiped to the ground in your initial rush was growing cold on the serving dishes but the waste of your hard work was truly the last thing on your mind. Instead, your attention was taken up by your handsome husband and the feeling of his warm skin taking you over - body and soul. 

Breaking your wet tongue-led kiss with a whimpering gasp, your head fell back for a moment as your hips lead their course on his lap, fingers clutching his hair and his shirt as you swirled yourself back and forth on his dick and watched how his handsome face was stricken in pleasure. His hands on your waist urged you to shift again and you gladly moved back into steady bounces using the anchor of your heels on the carpeted floor. 

“Oh my God, George.” you choked out, keeping your eyes on his. “Yes.” 

His deep groans in time with every bounce of your body on his lap filled the warm romantic air between you, his hands gripping a little tighter to your hips to pull you down a little harder, a little faster. 

“Good girl.” he praised lowly. 

“Are you close?” you asked shakily. 

“Yeah, baby.” his voice was strained slightly and he stared down his body to watch how you took him all with every ungraceful stroke, his feet planted firmly on the carpet as he stayed slouched back against the dining chair. “Fuck.”

“I want you to come in me.” you breathed shakily. 

“Yeah?” George’s right hand rose from your waist to hold your jaw tenderly and his thumb slid into your mouth, “Want me to put a baby in you?” 

“Fuck- uh huh-“ you groaned through his thumb, shamelessly bouncing harder on his lap until your thighs were aching. 

“Mhm?” George’s eyes flicked between your face and his lap, watching you fuck yourself on him with his feet anchroed securely on the carpeted dining room floor. He had been waiting and dreaming for his homecoming all day, desperate for this exact moment. He knew all too well that you would never say no to him. You were equals but you were such a good wife. 

George pulled his thumb out of your mouth and slid his hand around the back of your neck to pull your forehead against his as he groaned into his orgasm. You squeezed your muscles tightly around him, making his face screw up in pleasure as his cock throbbed within the tight confines of your cunt and you finally were blessed with that first feeling of him spurting warmly inside you. You shuttered on top of him, grinding down strongly against his lap as you held each other close and met his timing almost perfectly. Your moans together were harmonious and perfect and your heart soared with adoration for him as your souls connected in the dim lighting of your shared home. 

“Fuck, darling-” George breathed out of it, holding you to his chest with his entire arms around your back, keeping you grinding against him as your orgasm tapered off. 

“Holy shit.” you whimpered quietly against his cheek, your fingers gripping tightly to the back of his shirt, your thighs trembling as you sat all your weight down on his lap to take the weight off your feet. 

His hands caressed your back and you moved to be able to meet his gaze as he asked cheekily, “So, how was your day?”

You giggled sweetly and leaned in to kiss his lips, “Amazing. Even more amazing now that you’re home.” 

“Missed you so much.” George admitted. 

“I can tell.” you smiled, scratching your fingers through the back of his hair. 

George tore his eyes away from your loving gaze so he could look towards the dining room table that was left in complete disarray from his rushed entry. He leaned forward slightly to rest his head against your shoulder and you kissed his head and ran your hand through his hair. 

“Sorry for, uh, ruining your dinner.” he whispered. 

“That’s okay. Worth it.” you assured him, “But you’re cleaning it up.”

“Okay.” he chuckled and raised his head from your shoulder to kiss your lips again. 

You took his face in your dainty hands, whispering between gentle chasté kisses, “I love you.”

George smiled peacefully, staring at your adoringly, “I love you.”

His lips peppered kisses down your jaw and your neck and his hands squeezed your ass to prompt you to get up. You moved cautiously as you stood from his lap, letting a thick drop of white slip out of you and onto his thigh and he leaned in to kiss your hip as his hands guided you off of him. 

“Any symptoms yet?” he asked gently as you bent down to grab your underwear and pull them on. 

“Don’t think so.” you answered with a shrug. 

“It’ll happen.” he almost promised. 

You stood between his legs and rested your forearms on his shoulders to lean in towards him, “Hopefully.” 

“It will.” his large hands caressed your thighs. 

You shared a soft kiss. 

George patted your bum, “Okay, go wash up. I’ll clean this mess and slice up that roast for us. Looks like it survived the chaos.” 

You kissed him once more and then slid out of his arms. Picking up your dress from the floor, you headed across the open living room and down the opposite hallway that turned towards the back of the house and led to your bedroom. You pulled out your nightgown from your dresser drawer and helped yourself to the pastel painted ensuite to freshen up, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. 

Once perfectly styled hair was falling out of its pins and your cheeks were flushed from more than just the light coat of foundation and blush that you had applied earlier that day. You felt giddy and warm and yet a tinge of anxiety lingered in the back of your mind as you turned to the side and ran a hand over the flat natural curve of your stomach. You had been trying for a baby for only four weeks but you were impatient for the next phase of your perfect life with your perfect husband and with every passing day, you only got more and more ansty. George promised it would happen when it happens but you were both so familiar with things coming so easily to the two of you that not having results instantaneously was almost tortuous. 

Returning to the main space of your single storey house, George was in the kitchen in only his underwear and half unbuttoned white dress shirt, tidying up the dishes and scraping the spilled food into the garbage. To anyone else, they might have been more than annoyed that their hard-work that went into making dinner had gone to unappreciated waste but it was never that serious to you. You lived to give George whatever he wanted and when all he truly wanted was you? Who were you to deny him that? 

You leaned against the counter that divided the kitchen from the rest of the space and watched George putter around for a moment before he saw you. He smiled over at you and then brought over the plate of sliced meat that he had taken from the table and cut up himself. Setting it between you, he picked up one of the pieces and fed it to you from his fingers. 

“Little cold now.” you chuckled softly. 

“Still good.” he complimented, taking a bite for himself. 

You stood on either side of the peninsula counter and shared the plate of your half-cold dinner, one of the candles from the table resting between you and still lit. Moments like that only rehashed the idea of your perfect imperfection that was you and him. 

“You look beautiful right now.”

You raised your eyes from the plate, slipping one more piece of meat into your mouth as you met his loving stare. 

With a bashful smile, you shrugged, and spoke through your small mouthful, “I’m just in my nightgown.” 

“I know.” George leaned over the counter and captured your lips with his in a swift kiss. 

You smiled against his mouth and raised a hand up to dust your fingertips over his jaw before you were gently pushing him away from your lips. He reached over to gently tug at your pouted bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before standing up straight again and kept your eye contact from across the counter. 

“I love you so much.” you whispered. 

“I love you more.” 

The faint crackling of the record player in the living room drew your attention across the open space of your modest house and George drifted around the counter and danced his hand over your waist on his way past you. You took another bite of your makeshift dinner and watched as he lifted the needle from the turntable to remove the record and slide it back into its case. Whistling happily in his half-dressed state, George skimmed your collection of records and pulled out a new one to place carefully on the turntable. 

The tune he kept was the same tune you had stuck in your head for a few days and you inquired, “My love, what song is that you’re whistling?” 

George glanced up at you from across the living room, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth seeing you in the light of the kitchen behind your figure, and he looked back down to the record that he spun between his hands and then set it into its place on the turntable, “I dunno, darling. I think it’s just some random song.” 

“I’ve had it stuck in my head for a while now.” you explained, leaning back against the counter. 

“Mhm?” George seemed to shrug you off as he set the needle back on the record and the speaker crackled as it found its way into the groove. 

The house was filled with gentle romantic music and he turned up the volume as the voice of the vocalist flooded the space around you. George’s whistling moulded into the tune of the song playing and he did a little spin as he slunk his way saucily across the floor towards you. He climbed the three carpeted steps of the sunken living room and serenaded you with his rhythmic sways and motions as he approached you. You laughed softly at his goofiness and he held out his hands to you as he whistled along to the music. 

When you didn’t make a move to join him for a few seconds - just staring at him while leaning back against the counter with an adoring smile on your face - he requested of you simply, “Dance with me.” 

You pushed yourself away from the counter and set your hands in his, letting him pull you close to his body as he slid an arm around your waist and let his other hand stay holding yours beside you. He was the most angelic man you had ever seen and you set your hand around his shoulder as he guided you into gentle sways along with the music. 

You closed your eyes and melted into his chest, cheek to cheek, falling heavenly into the comfort of his embrace and the way his body moved with yours. His pitch perfect voice spoke right to your heart as he hummed quietly as you danced slowly in place within your cozy home, swaying to the rhythm of the record. With you in your nightgown and George in his underwear and dress shirt, you were perfectly domestic in that moment, the warmth in your heart swirling around the two of you wrapped as one. 

“Someday soon we won’t be able to do this.” George whispered to you.

The ominous nature of his statement had you shifting your head to look him in the eye, “What? Why?”

George just smiled sweetly and rubbed his thumb over the small of your back, “Because there’s going to be a baby growing between us soon. We’ll have to be a good arm's length apart.” 

You grinned back at him bashfully and leaned into him again so his lips pressed against your cheek for a quick kiss and then his head rested against yours. He led your gentle swaying on the plush carpet in the warm glow of the fireplace and your cozy home, only growing the adoring flutter in your heart. 

“I can’t wait.” you breathed. 

“Me neither.” George gave your joint hands a little squeeze. 

“I love you.” you whispered. 

“I love you.” George found your lips with his, kissing away any of your anxieties surrounding the unknown future with his love that comforted you always. 

The ringing of George’s alarm clock woke you at dawn, just like any other weekday. He was cuddled up behind you in your spacious bed, wrapping you up in the warmth of the sheets and his embrace. You sighed deeply as you were forced into consciousness and as you shifted to stretch in George’s arms, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Morning, darling.” he mumbled sleepily, his alarm still ringing from his side of the bed. 

“Morning, sunshine.” you yawned, earning another cheek kiss from your husband before he was shifting away from you to reach over and swat off the alarm. 

You rolled after him under the blankets and as he turned back around from shutting off his clock, you draped yourself across his bare chest to admire him happily in the faint morning light that peeked through the sides of your curtains. He stroked your hair and you tapped your index finger against his lips before you leaned in to kiss them softly. He smiled at you and met you halfway for another. 

“Did you sleep okay?” you asked quietly. 

“Yeah.” he lazily draped his arm around your back, “Did you?”

You nodded, still tired from your deep sleep you had just awoken from, and your gaze stayed focused on his familiar face. Reaching your hand up from his chest you caressed his cheek with your thumb and across his jaw that housed a faint dusting of hair that was in need of his daily morning shave. He moved his head slightly to press his lips against the pad of your thumb and you giggled adoringly and stretched your body out on top of his as if not wanting to let him get up. 

“Do you wanna stay in bed?” George asked. 

“With you?” you replied hopefully. 

“No.” he smiled sadly at you and stroked your hair again, “I gotta go to work and make some money for us and our future babies.” 

You bit back your smile but didn’t make a move to get off him, still staring lovingly at  his face.

“Okay?” he patted your bum over the blankets. 

You reached a hand up to gently scoop some sleep from the corner of his eye for him with your index finger and a soft melancholy hum and he scrunched his eyes closed and tried to turn away. You sighed dramatically and rested your chin on your hand against his chest to stare at him just a little longer before you would both have to get up. 

George’s finger traced the bridge of your nose and then plopped against your lips, tugging gently at the bottom one, whispering to you once more, “Okay?”

You nodded, breathing out a forced agreement, “Okay.”

You moved off of him and let him get out of bed and you watched from your cozy spot against the headboard as he trudged across the room and pushed open the curtains to let the tidal wave of early morning sun flood your four walls. Standing in the light in only his underwear, George was almost just a silhouette to you and as he stretched his arms above his head with a waking yawn and skimmed over your perfectly manicured backyard, you nearly swooned. As the man of your house, he made you weak by simply existing. How you adored him. 

Your eyes followed him as he walked across the bedroom towards the ensuite and, like every weekday morning, you let him get ready for his day without hassle. He naturally left the door open and you could see in the reflection of the mirror how he stripped out of his underwear into nothingness and then stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain shut behind him. The water turned on and then his whistle followed, waking himself up in warm water a good tune. 

Now alone in your shared bed, you stretched your arms over your head and forced your limbs to wake up, the slight comfortable tension on your muscles forcing the reminisce of your evening reunion to leak out of you and into your underwear. The sheets had fallen down to your waist from George climbing out of bed and you dropped your hands to rest on your stomach with an impatient sigh, staring down at your soft skin exposed to the morning sunlight. Sleeping bare beside him to allow your skin to touch completely was your favourite way to sleep as you so easily learned after you wed and moved into your perfect home together. He always felt so close that way. 

When your bare feet hit the carpeted floor and you rose from the mattress, you reached for his white button up dress shirt that he had worn the previous day and had discarded to the chair in the corner of the room. Keeping yourself modest within your empty house, you buttoned up the bottom three buttons, and then straightened out the creased fabric in the full length mirror. 

You stopped by the bathroom door, leaning against the frame as you called out to your showering husband, “Darling love; I’m going to start breakfast.”

“Okay, sweetheart, thank you.” George called back through the water and patterned shower curtain. 

Your bare feet patted softly down the picture frame lined hallway that was bathed in sunlight from the floor to ceiling windows opposite, and you turned into the main space of your house that had been silent from nightfall. You opened the curtains and turned on the radio to bring your house to life as you began the routine of your mornings. 

As usual, the weather was bright and clear and the sun had just barely made it above the horizon, meeting you outside in the backyard with refreshing crisp air and a wash of golden light, filtered only by the neighbouring houses and your clotheslines. The laundry that you had hung up the previous day was now perfectly dry and you unpinned one of the fresh white shirts that matched the one you were wearing and brought it back inside with you as the iron was heating up. The radio announcer spoke to the news of your uneventful town where the most interesting happenings consisted of shopping centre sales or the community pool being closed for cleaning. 

The ironing board was set up in the living room and you draped the clean shirt across it to be met with the steaming iron. The creases were steamed and ironed out of the fabric with ease and you found yourself humming that same mysterious tune as you worked, constantly stuck in your head. When the shirt was left neatly on the ironing board for retrieval by your husband, you continued on to the kitchen to put his lunch together and get breakfast started, letting the radio’s news mould into morning hits that livened your home with music. 

George joined you in the kitchen a few minutes later, lured from the bedroom by the smell of bacon and coffee in only his dress slacks and socks with his tie draped around his bare neck, his face shaved, and his brown hair already combed and gelled to perfection. At the sight of you in the kitchen in only his shirt and your little panties, George was grinning slyly and walking over to you at the stove. He wrapped his arms around your waist and dipped his face in your neck to kiss your skin. 

“Mm, good morning, beautiful woman.” he said lowly against the shell of your ear, the smoothness of his voice enough to butter your toast that morning. 

“Good morning, handsome.” you replied sweetly, setting your free hand that wasn’t holding a spatula against his around your middle as you leaned back into him to welcome his lips on yours in a few lingering kisses. When he broke your kisses, your eyes shamelessly skimmed his face and chest and you reached your hand up to touch his smooth jaw, “Mm, you look so yummy.”

“Says you in this little outfit, baby, goddamn.” George tisked, giving your ass a little two handed squeeze that made you squeak in surprise and he kissed your neck again. 

“You’re an easy man to please, my dearest.” you said as he drifted away from you across the space to retrieve his shirt from the ironing board. 

“You make it easy.” he praised right back as he shrugged on his shirt and buttoned it up on his way back towards you.

He paused as he tucked the shirt into his pants and then stopped to open the front door and grab the newspaper from the porch. 

“Coffee’s in your mug already.” you told him as he shut the door again.

Returning to the kitchen with the promise of coffee, already skimming the headlines, he answered you haphazardly, “You’re a perfect woman, baby.”

“Perfect for you, George Russell, and don’t you forget it.” you waved the spatula at him from across the kitchen and he smiled over at you as he lifted his steaming mug of coffee up to his lips for a sip. 

He stood at the island with the newspaper laid out before him and he skimmed the stories and articles as he tied his tie around his neck and set his collar down neatly and flipped through the pages as he sipped his morning coffee. You cracked farm fresh eggs into the skillet beside the bacon, watching how the grease sizzled and crackled as breakfast cooked, filling the kitchen with aromas that made your stomach growl. As the pan was left cooking, you tended to the toast in the toaster that had just popped and you placed the perfectly browned slices on a plate. 

“What is your plan today, darling?” George asked you, his eyes following you as he sipped his coffee and left the newspaper open in front of him. 

“The girls and I are going to go shopping.” you answered casually as you buttered each slice of toast. “I’m thinking my wardrobe needs a bit of a refresher but I already have a dress in mind for tonight that I haven’t had a chance to wear yet so I won’t need to buy anything new for that today. I had my eye on this set that was in the window of the department store this week - these gorgeous blue shorts and a matching blouse.”

“Blue is your colour, baby.” 

“Is that why your eyes never leave me?” you flirted smoothly.

Said blue eyes - the very ones you fell in love with - winked at you over the brim of the coffee mug. You smiled widely and cut the slices of toast in halves diagonally before delivering them to where George stood at the island. 

“Make sure anything you buy is put on my card.” he reminded you. 

“I know, I know. That’s all they allow us to do anyway.” you tisked and returned to the stove. “I must say, every time one of the employees greets me with a ‘good morning, Mrs. Russell’ or a ‘is that all for today, Mrs. Russell’ I swear my heart skips a beat.” 

George chuckled lightly at your swooning over your shared name as he took a bite of toast and then spoke through it, “It’s been a good few months now, sweetheart. Still not used to it?”

“I’m used to it.” you assured him. “I just love it.” 

He just smiled down to the newspaper. 

“I might attend a ballet class this afternoon too.” 

“Oh?” George looked over at you again, “Does that mean I get to see you in a leotard and a little tutu?”

You rolled your eyes at him teasingly as you plated the bacon and eggs from the pan, “Don’t push your luck, mister.” 

He leaned in towards you as you joined him at the island with your two plates, promising with a quiet, “I’ll be good.”

“You’re always good.” you whispered right back, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before setting the plates in front of you both. 

You ate breakfast together over the newspaper and distant noise of the radio, feeding each other bites of bacon and toast and trying not to spill egg on his perfectly crisp clothes. Soon it was time for him to leave for the day and he grabbed his lunch tin that you had set earlier on the counter peninsula and you hurried over to get between him and the door. 

“Wait,” you set your hands on his chest as he nearly walked right into you, “I forgot to tell you-”

“Mhm?” George encouraged you on with a little amused smile, already knowing what was coming after this almost daily routine…only made more insistent on the mornings that came after an evening with perfect heavenly love making. 

“You can’t go to work.” you told him, even as he started walking slowly towards the door, forcing you to take slow steps back in time with him. 

“Why not?” he pressed, his lips grazing yours with how close you stood. 

“You don’t feel well, remember?” you slid your hands over his shoulders. 

“Oh, I don’t?” 

“No.” you licked away your smile as he had you in the foyer now, “And you need to stay home so I can cuddle you and kiss you and tend to you and nurse you back to health.”

“Oh, I see.” George blindly lifted his jacket from the hook by the door, all without tearing his eyes away from yours, “And your shopping plans?”

“Canceled for you, my love.” you answered easily, sliding your arms around his waist as he pulled his jacket on and you leaned in to kiss his smiling lips. “So we should get you into bed.”

“We should?” George had you against the front door and you stood guard in front of it to prevent him from leaving. 

“Yes.” you smiled sweetly at him with your lightly frazzled hair and wrinkled shirt of his you wore. 

It would have been so easy for him to fall into your little trap and stay home with you all day - it was near impossible for him to say no to you and especially so when you looked like a golden angel in the sunlight that bathed the house. Instead, he reached a hand up and caressed your cheek and then leaned in to kiss your lips once, twice, and then lingered there for a third before pulling away. 

“I got to go, darling.”

Pouted in lighthearted defeat, you slunk out of his way so he could open the front door and you followed after him onto the porch, stopping him by the arm for one more kiss. 

“I love you.” you said. 

“I love you.” he smiled back, his eyes glancing up and down your figure and once more across your face as if memorizing you completely, “See you tonight.”

“See you.” you let your hand fall from his arm and you watched him walk down the front porch steps and around to the drivers side of his shiny car. 

The other men on your little street were also saying their goodbyes to their wives and getting into their cars like clockwork but your attention was only on your husband and the way he checked his hair in the rearview mirror before sliding his sunglasses on. He caught your gaze once more and blew you a kiss before turning the key in the ignition. 

With the rumble of the engine, you took one more step down the front porch in only his white buttoned shirt and blew him a kiss back, letting your hand stay outstretched in a gentle wave as he backed out of the driveway alongside the other men. Then, like a little parade, they made their way down the street in a single file row and out of sight. 

Sitting around in the comfy chairs of the classy department store, you and your friends sipped champagne and discussed your mornings and the ballet class you had just returned from. 

“It was more of a workout than I had thought!” one of the ladies expressed. 

“Such beautiful dancing though. Do you think they’ll have us perform a show by the end of the season? I would love to be able to show my husband all that we do!” 

“Oh, that would be so nice!”

“We should put in a request.” 

“My husband does not so much as care about what I do, I must admit.”

“Being one of the most important men in business, it’s fair to say he’s tired when he gets home every night.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t mind some attention from him.”

As your friends gossiped about their husbands and their home lives, you set your drink flute on the glass coffee table and stood from your chair to browse a few of the near-by racks. In a blue floral dress that swayed around your knees with every step, you held that soft tune on your lips as you gently swiped through each clothing option with the tags labeled without prices. The women never had to bother with money, it was just one way that life was made less stressful in your little picturesque neighbourhood. 

One of the ladies spoke a little louder so you could hear, “All of us seem to have things we wish to improve in our marriages and then there are the Russells who could not be any more perfect if they tried.” 

With a skirt in hand that you were admiring, you glanced over to your friends who all had knowing looks directed your way. You smiled and shook your head, “I wouldn’t call us perfect. No one is perfect.” 

“Oh, but you’re pretty close.” one of the ladies said before turning to the rest of the group, “You won’t believe the things I hear from even the next house over. It’s like their honeymoon phase lasts for months.” 

“Okay.” you laughed to try and brush her off as you set the skirt back on the rack beside you.

Another one of your friends added smoothly, “You won’t be fitting in these dresses much longer by the sounds of it then.”

The first friend only continued, “I know! If you two aren’t pregnant soon I think there must be something wrong with the universe.”

The rest of your small group agreed easily. 

“Yeah.” you added, “We’ve only been actively trying for a few weeks but-”

“More like six months by what we hear next door.”

“Okay.” you hushed her with a bashful blushing smile and you turned back to the rack to skim through some more clothes. You tried not to let their innocent excitement for you get under your skin but you were anxious and impatient and wanting a baby more than anything. It hadn’t been very long but when it was the thing you prayed for most in the world, each passing hour felt like a lifetime. 

You tried on the outfit you had been eyeing in the change room - that blue full skirt and matching blouse - and although it fit you like it was tailored for you, you silently wished it didn’t fit. You craved the growth of life inside you and it never seemed to leave the forefront of your mind. 

Regardless, you let your anxieties out with some retail therapy as you set your blue outfit on the cash desk along with a few more casual dresses and shoes. The man behind the counter rung up your items and folded them into tissue paper and set them in a box with a neat little bow. 

“Will that be everything today, Mrs. Russell?” he asked routinely. 

You glanced across the counter to him, “Yes, thank you.” 

“Wonderful. I will charge it to your husband’s account.” he held out the box to you, “We hope to see you again soon. I couldn’t help but overhear that it may be in our maternity department?”

You offered a polite smile and thanked him quietly as you took your box and returned to your friends who were getting ready to leave with their own purchases. Upon joining up with your little group again, you all emerged out into the sunny afternoon to make your way towards the trolley, discussing your evening in terms of your planned outfits for the neighbourhood dinner that was to be hosted at the lavish event hall in town. Your friends spoke excitedly about the dressed they had picked out and their hopes that their husbands would match their excitement at least partially. It was always nice to have a night off when you didn’t need to have dinner ready for the men’s homecoming - or so your friends touched upon. To you, everyday meant simply looking forward to George being home, regardless of what you had prepared or not. You liked to tend to him and you did so gladly. 

That day, however, you felt drained. Your physical body seemed to be taking after your emotional state in that sense and by the time the trolley stopped at the end of your street and let you off and you shared quick ‘see you tonight’s with your friends as you parted ways onto your own properties, you were ready to sit down. 

The house felt so quiet and empty when you were there alone and although it never usually bothered you, this afternoon only raised that looming loneliness that had been festering inside you. Trying to calm yourself down, you hummed that same gentle tune that had been stuck in your head and walked slowly down your hallway and into your master bedroom. After your morning tidy, the bed had been already made and any laundry was put away in the hamper, leaving a spotless room for you to set your shopping box down on the pulled tight sheets. With a hum on your lips, you helped yourself to the ensuite and ran a bath in the teal porcelain alcove tub, your gaze drifting over the alarm clock on the bedside table as the water filled and you stripped out of your dress and heels. George was expected home in just over an hour and you would have to be ready for him then so all he had to do was put on his formal jacket and dress shoes and you could be out the door and on your way to the party right away. 

The steaming bath water forced a sigh from your chest as you lowered into it and relaxed back against the edge. Your eyes closed peacefully and you rested your head back against the wall to give yourself a moment to ease your tensions that seemed to riddle your body that week, your hair still tied half-up with a ribbon that matched your day dress. In a few moments you would have to get up but you breathed yourself into relaxation to make the most of your quiet day. 

You were woken to a gentle touch to your shoulder and your eyes flew open with a surprised gasp, the barely-warm water sloshing around your body as you startled. George was sitting on the edge of the tub still in his work clothes, his expression a mix between surprise and love, and he caressed your cheek with his thumb. 

“I was worried where you were when you didn’t meet me at the door.” he chuckled softly. 

“Shit, what time is it?” you asked worriedly, your features expressing your unrest easily. 

“Just after 5:00.” George answered. 

“Oh my- I’m sorry- I was supposed to be ready to go-“ you started to get up but he set a gentle hand on your shoulder to keep you in the water a little longer. 

“It’s okay, darling. There’s no rush. We still have a whole hour.” 

George dipped down to kiss your lips and your stress lines melted into a tender smile at his touch and you leaned up from the tub to kiss him again gladly. When you sat back again, he just stared at you for a few long seconds, a calm smile on his face. The intensity of his blue eyed stare always had you needing to look away and you smiled shyly down to the bath water. 

George broke your silence with a soft, “You look gorgeous.” 

You leaned your head back against the wall again so you could look at him, admitting quietly, “I missed you today.” 

“I missed you too.” George stroked your hair before he was getting up from the wide of the tub, “I bought you something on my way home.” 

Your attention was peaked, watching him walk hurriedly out of the ensuite and out into your bedroom, “You did?”

He came back in with a garment bag and a beaming grin and he unzipped it to reveal a royal blue evening dress with a straight neckline, short dainty sleeves, and a matching bow around the waist. You bit back your smitten grin at the excitement of your selfless husband and you leaned your arms on the edge of the tub to admire the stunning new dress, careful to not touch it with your wet hands. 

“Sweetheart,” you breathed adoringly, “It’s beautiful.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking of you in it…I just had to stop and pick it up for you. You’re gonna look beautiful tonight.” George gushed as he hung the hanger up on the shower curtain rod. He started to untie his tie from around his neck as he talked on, “And I even grabbed myself a matching tie from the store while I was there just so we can match tonight. I know you always like that even if you might not always admit it.” 

You rested your cheek down against your folded arms on the tub edge and admired him shamelessly as he stepped back into the bedroom again only to return to the bathroom mirror with a royal blue tie that matched the colour of your new dress perfectly. He draped it around his neck and popped his collar so he could tie it as he spoke to you. 

“Come on, darling, come get ready.” 

You always loved going out with him and especially having any excuse to dress up but the whirling of your mind was distracting and you caught yourself suddenly swallowing back tears. You dropped your face into the crook of your arm and let out a shaky exhale to try and regain your composure. 

“Hey,” George’s gentle voice got closer and soon he was crouching beside the tub, reaching out a loving hand to caress your damp shoulder, “what’s wrong, my love?”

You sniffled and raised your head up again to meet his concerned gaze and you shrugged, mouthing a silent and passive, “I dunno.”

“Mm mm.” George shook his head gently, “Don’t do that. Don’t push me away. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I want a baby.” you whispered. 

“I know.” George let out a faint chuckle at your obvious confession but his expression stayed serious as he took in your obviously distressed state. His hand stroked over your head and into the damp ends of your hair that had grazed the water in your bath.

“I want one now.” you continued quietly. 

“I know. That’s why we’re working so hard.” he nudged your cheek teasingly with his knuckle.

You barely offered him a smile, “I’m scared it won’t happen.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Why’s that?” 

You shrugged, “Because if it hasn’t happened yet then what if it never will?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” George tisked and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “It’s still early…it’s been barely a month-”

“But we weren’t even really being safe before that. How did it not already accidentally happen?”

“I dunno.” he chuckled, “But that’s okay. I am in no rush. We have our whole lives together and it’s only been a little while of trying and I’m not giving up yet. I’m not giving up on us or our babies, okay?”

You sniffled and nodded. 

“So don’t worry, darling. Don’t stress yourself out over this because you’re just going to make yourself crazy with worry.”

“I want to give you a family.” you mumbled sadly. 

“You are my family.” George promised and leaned in to kiss your temple. “You’re all I need to be happy.”

“I love you.” you whispered, turning your head slightly to urge his lips on yours in a sweet kiss. 

“I love you.” he kissed you once more before he was standing up and offering out his hands to you, “Now let’s get you out of this bathtub and into that dress so you can be the most breathtaking woman at the party.” 

The event hall was located near the centre of town and was decorated lavishly for the evening party that was to be hosted there. George parked on the street and even at the slight distance you were from the venue, the lights and music still made their way down the sidewalk and lured you in eagerly. With your hair curled and pinned to perfection and in your brand new gown purchased by the hands of your husband, you already felt like a million bucks, only eased more by the reassurance that he offered you only an hour earlier. He was truly all you needed and anything more was just a perfect treat. 

Your hand rested daintily in the crook of his elbow as he led you both into the loud and boisterous hall and right away, other partygoers were greeting you over the music and noise. Butlers passed by with platters of horderves and George snagged you both a small serving each on the way to your table. Right up near the front, your reserved table was awaiting you, and a few of your friends were already there and in their seats, mingling and drinking. 

At the sight of you, your friends had plenty to say about your matching dress and tie and the way you just looked so perfect together. Friendly cheek kisses were shared by the ladies and the men exchanged handshakes and everyone was arranging themselves in their seats that were labeled with golden calligraphy name tags. George pulled out your chair for you and helped you take your seat in your spot before he was leaning down with his hands on your shoulders to let you know he was going to the bar to order some drinks. You reached up one hand to pat over his in acknowledgement and he leaned down to kiss your cheek before disappearing through the crowd with a few of the husbands. 

“Oh he is enamoured by you.” one of your friends gushed from across the table. 

“And this dress is stunning!” another reached over to touch your sleeve. 

“He picked it out.” you admitted - only slightly bragging, “Came home with it today and said he needed to buy it for me because he kept picturing me in it.” 

The girls swooned over that, lighthearted jealousy filling the air. 

“You two are too cute.” another one of the women said, “It’s a known fact that the Russells are all too perfect.”

“Yep. Makes me sick!” another joked. 

The one on your right nudged your arm gently, leaning in to say quietly while still being heard over the band playing, “Did you hear that your husband might be getting a promotion tonight?” 

Your eyes widened, “No. I didn’t hear that. Is it true?”

She nodded, “My husband heard at work. Apparently George has been doing an excellent job…he’s so dedicated, y’know? The mayor is so impressed.” 

“It’s a surprise?” you questioned. 

“Think so. But I don’t even know if it’s 100% true so don’t go saying anything anyway. I know you two have no secrets between you and all.”

You pretended to lock your lips with your fingers and throw away the imaginative key and you shared quiet giggles. 

The men returned shortly after and George set your drink down on the table in front of you before he was unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket and then sitting down beside you with his own drink. His hand rested on the back of your chair while his eyes took in the party around you from the crowded tables of neighbours to the impressive height of the floral centerpieces on each, sipping his drink calmly. You set your hand on his thigh as you took to your own drink, naturally keeping him within arms reach at all times even if the attention was on the conversation at your table. 

It wasn’t long before the performers were introduced to the crowd and the stage was filled with female dancers, their costumes not leaving much to the imagination other than streaks of glitter and sparkle covering them scandalously. The music guided them and the men cheered loudly as the women watched politely, you among them. But George wasn’t looking at the stage. Instead, his head was turned away from the show just so he could stare at you instead. 

Cluelessly, you sipped your drink and watched the show, unknowing to the way his attention was focused all on you. A calm smile rested on his lips and his eyes took in every inch of your face as you sat at his side so effortlessly. When his hand dropped to your lap and he gave your knee a squeeze, you finally looked at him, eyes wide in surprise at seeing him already staring at you. 

George leaned in towards you and you met him halfway so he could whisper against your ear behind the loud show music playing through the spacious room, “Wanna come get some air with me?”

You smiled innocently at him and set your drink back on the table as your silent agreement. 

He got up first from his chair and took your hand to guide you after him, moving smoothly away from your table without wanting to interrupt the show. Your friends only shared knowing glances among themselves at the sight of the two of you sneaking off. You didn’t necessarily know you were that predictable to outsiders. 

The music from the ballroom muffled as you emerged into the hallway and let the double doors close behind you, having a moment alone in peace of just the two of you. George spun you under his arm and then pulled you right up against his body, sliding his arm around your waist lovingly as his lips found yours with ease. You raised your hands up to the side of his neck to hold him there, gladly letting him kiss you deeply within the rush of escaping the crowded party. 

George pulled away from your lips only to whisper honestly to you, “You really are the most beautiful woman here tonight.”

You caressed his smooth jaw with your thumbs, “All thanks to this dress you picked out.”

“Your beauty requires no thanks to me.” he corrected smoothly, taking your hands from his face to hold in his own and he started to walk backwards to pull you after him towards the washrooms. 

You walked after him giddily, only pulling your hands from his grasp and falling against his chest with your arms around his shoulders as he backed into the empty women’s washroom. In the formal setting of the ballroom, the washroom was designed just as lavishly and the mirror framed lounge with a central circular sofa welcomed you warmly. Your lips found his again and he blindly locked the door behind you before spinning you both around and leading you farther into the elegant room. 

You could never get enough of his lips and even as he licked his way into your mouth, you were still pulling at the back of his neck to feel him closer, moaning softly into his kiss. George’s hands slid down your body and over your hips and ass and his dress shoes scuffed over the marble floor as he guided you towards the small make-up counter across the room. Often used for ladies to excuse themselves from the party to freshen up their lipstick or blush at the built-in vanity, it was now taken as a place for George to press you up against in the most erotic way, sending your heart in your throat and between your legs in eager anticipation. Only the simplest of touches from your husband sent you spiralling. 

“Oh my God.” you breathed into his mouth as your kiss broke for him to focus on shuffling up your voluminous skirt. 

Both already breathing heavily, your mouths were open in lust as lips brushed tauntingly and you shared air together. Your hands held onto his biceps over the expensive material of his tuxedo jacket and his warm hands snapped the waistband of your lacey panties against your waist. You giggled and he lowered to a crouch in front of you, holding up your skirt in one hand as his other started to pull down your underwear and his lips trailed after them in slow open-mouthed kisses across your skin. His gelled hair wasn’t easy to get your hand in without ruining it completely so you settled for resting your hands on the cold vanity countertop that you were resting back against the edge of. 

George stood back up and in one smooth motion, his lips were capturing yours in a filthy kiss. You let one arm toss around his shoulders as you kissed him back hungrily, pulling hearty moans from his throat at the way you melted into each other and he shoved your underwear in his pants pocket. His hand took its place under your skirt and pressed right down against your clit, making your next breath shutter. 

“Fuck-”

George swallowed up your words with his mouth, tasting the way you swore at his touch, locking his pillowy lips with yours perfectly. He stroked your clit lazily with his fingertips and soon had you trying to grind against his hand as he stood between your legs and was nearly leaning into you over the vanity. 

You tilted your head back to break your kiss with a exhale, “George-”

Breathing in time with each other into each other’s mouths, you held him close around his shoulders as he made you wet with ease; like he knew your body like the back of his hand. His lustful eyes were on yours, unwavering, glimmering in the warm light of the circular mirrored room you found yourselves in, companion only to the muffled music from the party across the hall. 

His fingers moved a little faster against your clit and his attention was focused all on your face as he watched the way your expression changed for him, your nose scrunching up in pleasure and your eyebrows furrowing slightly with the moan that reverberated in your chest. He stopped suddenly, forcing a gasp from you, and his fingers slowed right down to rub over your pussy instead, smearing around the sweet wetness that pooled out of you by his very own touch. 

“Fuck, you get wet for me so easy, my good girl.” he praised into your mouth, his body pressed right up against yours. 

“I’m yours.” you promised him. 

“Uh huh?” he swirled his fingers around your clit again, taunting you, “Do you want me to put a baby in you, darling?”

“Fuck, yes please.” you rushed out. 

“Want me to make you a mommy? Say it.” 

“Please put a baby in me, George.” you pleaded, tugging at his tie to try and pull his lips on yours again, your legs spreading wider to urge his touch where you craved him. “Let me make you a daddy.”

“God damn, you’re so perfect.” George groaned, rubbing messily at your clit again. 

A pleasurable shriek fell from your throat and your head tossed back blissfully, welcoming his lips to your neck in feverish kisses that he moved right up under your ear to make you shiver. His fingers created the perfect friction against your aching clit and you ground against his touch, desperate for more. You always wanted more. 

“Baby, please.” you breathed to the ceiling, “Please fuck me. Please cum inside me. I need you so fucking bad.” 

George pulled his hand out from under your skirt so he could shove off his black jacket and he tossed it behind him to hopefully land on the couch in the middle of the room. Neither of you cared enough to watch where it went because then he was unbuckling his belt and you were shuffling up your skirt some more and draping your hair over one shoulder as the heat was already rushing over your body. You didn’t separate for long and even still he stood so close to you at the counter that you could breathe into each other’s mouths, eyes locked, hearts beating as one. 

He grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up onto the edge of the counter as your hands pulled his lips back on yours for more kisses. George’s grip on your hips pulled you closer to him and the feeling of his fingers pressing into your hips had your body arching into him hungrily. You reached down to wrap your gentle hand around his dick and gave it a few impatient strokes, feeling how it only stiffened up more at your touch. It felt like you were in a rush, driven by lust and desire, and George nudged your legs open wider so he could step right up to the vanity, at the perfect height to let the head of his cock nudge against your sensitive clit. 

“Don’t tease me, you asshole.” you giggled breathily, earning a soft laugh from your husband as he kissed the corner of your mouth. You held onto his biceps as he carefully fed his thick cock into your leaking cunt, sheathing so snugly inside you that both of your mouths fell open in unison, eyes locking. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” George whispered against your lips, sliding a hand around the small of your back to urge you a little closer to the edge so he could get as deep as possible. 

“Oh my God.” you exhaled shakily, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him close and your arms slung around his shoulders to pull his lips on yours. “Oh my God.”

You shared deep sloppy kisses as he started to thrust into you slowly and your moan against his lips had his eyebrows furrowing in filthy bliss. He broke your kiss for a moment to look at your face before dropping his gaze down between you, lifting up the hem of his dress shirt out of the way even if your skirt was still covering most of it. You tilted his head back up to look at you desperately, wanting to find the love in his eyes, and he thrusted into you a little faster as your gaze sent him spinning. 

You breathed in time together, wrapped up together on the vanity counter, and as George’s feet stayed planted securely shoulder width apart in his dress shoes against the polished marble floor, he had the ability to take you as he wanted you right then and there. His lips pressed to your jaw in fleeting kisses as he held your body close and fucked you faster, desperate to feel more of you. 

Your head fell back with a moan and he helped himself to your neck, holding you in place on the edge of the counter. As the seconds passed, he only got more desperate, thrusting into you faster, harder, holding your body against his in that gorgeous blue dress he bought for you. 

“George-“ you cried out softly, clinging onto him, spreading your legs wider for him so he could get deeper. Your manicured fingernails grasped the back of his dress shirt around his waist, crumpling the once perfectly ironed material in your fist as your heels dropped from your feet one and then the other, landing on the marble floor with a sharp thud. 

“Good girl.” George praised against your cheek, his large hands caressing your thighs and your back as he held you close to his body. 

Your eyes were focused over his shoulder to the wall opposite you, hung up on the reflections that the mirror-framed room offered you of all angles. It was possessive to watch like that, how your arms and legs were wrapped around him completely, fingers of one hand drifting into the back of his brown hair as his warm breath was panted against your neck in time with his quick thrusts. It made you salivate with desire for the man you loved more than life itself. 

“Oh my God-“ you moaned out for him, dizzy on the sound of his skin clapping filthily with yours as the luxurious bathroom muted the distant sounds of the loud party music through the ballroom. Your hand tightened in his hair as he fucked the whimpers out of you, igniting warmth over your skin. “Just like that, baby, please-“

“Wanna cum for me?” George asked lowly against your cheek. 

“Yes, please.” you huffed out shakily. “Please make me cum.” 

“Yeah?” George grabbed your thighs to spread you a little wider, making you hold your legs open by linking them over his forearms as his hands took your hips to hold you in place. 

Your pleading hands pulled his lips on yours by the back of his head, sharing filthy tongue led kisses between your pants and moans together as he drew you both closer. Both of you were completely ignorant to the muffled speech going on back in the ballroom, too hung up on each other. Tossing your head back with an overwhelmed moan to the ceiling, your hands dropped behind you to the countertop and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. 

The skirt of your dress bunched around your middle and his hands were buried underneath it to hold you by the waist at the edge of the vanity, fucking you deliciously until that warmth was tightening in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows furrowed as you stared at him lustfully, you basked in the pleasure he brought to you so easily, giving him the sweetest moans that helped him closer to the conclusion you needed from him. 

“Cum inside me.” you whispered to him longingly. 

George stared back at you strongly, thrusting into you steadily as he taunted you with words that sent you whirling, “Want me to put a baby in you, darling? Cum so fucking deep inside you until you’re completely knocked up?”

“Fuck me.” you groaned through your teeth, your voice wavering, “Please, George. Please knock me up. Please give me your babies. Please, please, please-“

“Uh huh-“ he spoke over your soft begging, holding you by your waist as close as he could so he could hit as deep as possible, making your toes curl in midair. 

You tugged the skirt of your dress up and got your fingers on your swollen clit to rub quickly at that spot, desperate for those incredible waves of pleasure that came to you only alongside your darling husband. Your head fell back with a gasping groan, your pussy squeezing down around him snugly as your orgasm approached quickly and you mouthed his name to the mirrored room in a whisper. 

So many reflections to watch your sneaky rendezvous but George was only staring at the real you right in front of him, watching how you succumbed to the pleasure he brought you, “Let go for me, darling. Take the fucking cum out of me. Take it.”

Your fingers rubbed quickly at your clit, pulling the air from your lungs as your body gave itself to him completely, pushed over the edge by the way he thrusted into you so perfectly. You tensed up around him and he groaned lowly between you as the pulsing flutters of your pussy radiated bursts of pleasurable sensations up his spine. You came for him with a cry of his name, your eyes staring back at his handsome face as your expression wavered with overwhelm. 

George only fucked you faster, desperately chasing that sweet conclusion that would bring you both closer together. You slung your arms around his shoulders as you shuttered against his body with the intense pleasure that radiated over every inch of you. He shifted to get your legs back around your waist and he held you as close as possible as he thrusted into you sloppily. 

“Hold onto me.” he whispered strongly, urging your hands to cling onto the back of his shirt to keep you together as close as possible. Your ankles linked together behind his waist and your heels pressed into the flesh of his bum to keep him nice and deep as his breathing grew shallower. 

He was coming seconds later, nearly slumping into you as your arms held each other close and he forced himself as deep as he could get inside you. His moans were beautiful and you breathed him into your senses greedily as he was all yours. You took every drop he gave you, grinding against his body to pull more out of him with how badly you wanted it, whispering little breathy yeses against his cheek in time with his final few precise thrusts. 

“Oh my God.” you breathed. 

“Mm.” George dusted a fleeting kiss to your neck as he stood up straight again. 

You held onto his biceps as he pushed up the hem of your dress to allow you both to watch him pull out slowly. His dick was slick in the mixture of both of your love and he was softening slowly in the warm air of the ballroom bathroom. He grabbed your thighs to spread your legs nice and wide and you leaned back on your hands with a sultry little smile as he stared down at your pussy and licked his lips at the sight of the thick white cream dripping back out. 

“Keep it in there.” he ordered quietly. “Keep your legs up for a bit.” 

“Mhm.” you rested back against the vanity mirror and kept your legs up, clenching your muscles tightly to keep everything in for as long as he wanted you to. 

George leaned in to kiss your lips a few times, bringing a loving smile to your face at his obvious adoration that was even more apparent in the way he looked at you when you separated. 

“I love you.” he whispered. 

“I love you so much.” you replied quietly. 

He drifted away from you to tuck himself back into his slacks and he buckled his pants up again and you watched him redress peacefully, always one to linger on the domesticity of it all. George retrieved his jacket from where he had tossed it onto the centre sofa and he shrugged it back on and buttoned the two buttons once more. 

Staring at him from your spot atop the vanity, you felt your heart swell with undeniable love for him, tears brimming in your eyes with the overwhelming concept that he was yours for life and that you were aiming to make a family together. He was all you wanted, even if you wanted more of him. 

Dedicated to the growth of your family, you let your legs ache as you kept them raised and spread, willing to do anything for the cause. George stopped by one of the mirrored walls of the circular room and let that same tune play on his lips as he tended to his hair and made sure it was gelled back down and away from his face, no remnants of your fingers in it. He then returned to you and situated himself between your legs, sliding his hands up your skirt that hid you modestly and he caressed your warm skin. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. 

“Little dizzy.” you admitted, your head resting back against the mirror, “But I’m so good.” 

“Dizzy?”

“Mhm. You made me cum really hard.” you giggled. 

George smiled, his momentary concern melting into a cheeky grin, and he leaned in to kiss your lips. You shared whispered ‘I love you’s before he was helping you to lower your legs and guide you off the counter. On wobbly legs, you held onto his forearms and took a second to steady yourself until you were able to stand straight on your own. George pressed a kiss to your temple and then pulled your underwear from his pocket for you to put back on. You held onto him as you carefully pulled them up your legs under your dress and then slid on each of your heels one at a time.  

“Okay?” he asked. 

You smiled at him and nodded, blinking away the slight dizziness that lingered. You had a party to return to after all. 

When you returned to the ballroom hand in hand, the mayor was on the stage with the microphone in hand, addressing the crowd. It was otherwise quiet as if they were missing something but almost the exact moment you walked through the doors, the spotlight was on you. You raised a hand up to shield your eyes from the bright white light and George guided you slowly back towards your table as the mayor called you out by name. 

“There they are! The Russells have made their return!”

Blushing furiously with the entire town’s attention on you, you clung tighter onto George’s hand and followed close beside him to your table. 

On the stage, the mayor wasn’t done, “I have to admit that I am quite proud of these two’s dedication to helping our community to grow into the next generation. I’m sure it won’t be long until we can welcome another child into our perfect little paradise, isn’t that right?”

The crowd cheered loudly with applause and you nearly felt faint, the spotlight following you through the crowd. George’s hand rested on the small of your back as he helped you onto your chair again. 

The mayor continued, speaking into the microphone as his other hand gestured out towards the two of you, “In your absence, George, you missed my most important announcement of the night.” 

George offered him a tight smile as he sat back down beside you with a polite, “Awfully sorry about that, Frank.”

“No, no.” the mayor assured him, “I understand that you take your job as man of the house just as seriously as you take your job with us here.” 

Your dizziness was only growing into a sweat at your brow and you dabbed your napkin from your place setting gently at your temples to try and tame your rising temperature. Maybe it was the warm spotlight, you assumed, or the attention of the entire neighbourhood being focused on you that made you nervous but you really weren’t feeling too well. 

George was looking up to the nearby stage as the mayor addressed him directly, meaning his back was almost completely towards you. You set a clammy hand on his shoulder. 

The mayor continued, “Which is exactly why I wanted to bring up your dedication to your service to us and your ability to live with the morals and values of our dear community at the forefront of your mind.” 

You leaned towards George’s shoulder, whispering shakily to him, “Baby, I don’t feel too well.” 

He glanced at you briefly before the mayor drew his attention with a call of his name. 

“George Russell,”

Your forehead slumped against his shoulder blade, “I wanna go home.”

George shifted to let you lean on his shoulder and your arm naturally wrapped pleadingly around his, warmed by the blinding light of the spotlight. 

The mayor was unphased by your obvious distress as he continued addressing your husband directly, “it is with great pride that I would like to offer you a position with some of us in headquarters. It will come with more responsibility but I’m sure the pay increase will be beneficial when it comes to any little additions to your family.”

George’s attention was torn between this surprise news of an offered promotion and the way that you were nearly limp against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you protectively but his gaze was still politely focused on the stage. 

“I really want to go home.” you repeated shakily to him. 

Your friends were oblivious, too excited about the proper announcement that was now given to the man it was directed towards under the blinding lights of the decorated ballroom. You felt faint. 

“What do you say, George?” the mayor asked loudly, his voice booming across the spacious ballroom. “Will you live up to the kind of man we know you can be?”

“George.” you whispered pleadingly, too out of it to even really know what was going on. “Please, can we go?” 

George glanced at you briefly before looking back up to the stage and the expectant faces of his co-workers and mayor. He nodded to him quickly, “Yes, thank you. I would love to accept the offer.” 

The crowd broke into applause and with the chaos that it brought, George turned to you quickly and grabbed your purse from the table before standing up. 

“Come on, let’s get you home.” 

He helped you out of your chair as the spotlight drifted elsewhere across the bustling party and your friends gave you odd stares at your sudden change and out-of-character distress. George, riddled with worry, wrapped his arm around your waist protectively and led you towards the exit doors of the ballroom, the cheers of the crowd echoing in your ears and you clamped your hands over them to block out the noise. 

Once out in the crisp evening air, you were stumbling across the pavement and George was pulling you to a stop to look at him. Hands trembling, you pushed your hair out of your face and kept your gaze downcast in near shame. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” George asked, rubbing your bare arms with his warm hands. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your night.” you said shakily. 

“You didn’t ruin anything.” George brushed your apology off easily, “What’s wrong?” 

“I dunno…it just…was stuffy in there and overwhelming…I don’t feel too good.” you sniffled and he pulled you in for a gentle hug. With your arms tucked around your middle shyly, he held you close and pressed a kiss to your temple. You didn’t want to complain but you were still not feeling much better and you stood back from him again, holding a trembling hand to your mouth, “I feel so gross, George, can we please go home?” 

“Yes, my love, of course.” George took your arm and gently guided you towards the car. 

He opened the door for you and helped you in and even buckled your seatbelt for you before he shut the door and rushed around to the other side to get behind the wheel. You shut your eyes and leaned back in your seat, the world still slightly spinning around you. 

George turned the key and pulled away from the curb, “Did it come on this fast?”

You nodded, working up the courage to speak your response, “Felt really tired today and then dizzy while we were in the bathroom but…”

When your body made you lurch and you pressed your hand to your mouth, George’s wide eyes looked over at you. 

“Tell me to pull over if you need me to.” he instructed gently. 

You nodded in acknowledgement. 

“I’m sorry.” you mumbled. 

He reached over to set a comforting hand on your thigh, “Please don’t be sorry.” 

The street lamps of your perfect little community whizzed past your window as George hurried towards home, his gaze constantly flicking over to you from the street ahead just to make sure you were good. It was odd the way you so quickly felt sick and it honestly made him quite nervous, wondering what had happened to trigger such obvious illness within you in such a short period of time. 

It didn’t take long to get home since your neighbourhood wasn’t very large and George had barely put the car in park before you were tossing off your seatbelt and climbing out of your seat in a rush. George didn’t even turn off the car before he was hurrying after you towards the porch where you caught yourself on the white painted pillar and threw up in the garden. He was right behind you as you sputtered distastefully, pulling your hair away from your face for you as the nausea came over you again and you threw up for a second time right into your rosebush. 

“Oh my-“ you whimpered, eyes brimming with tears as you wiped your mouth with the back of your trembling hand. 

George hushed you comfortingly as you let out a little sob and he turned you to face him so he could easily pull you into a warm hug. You ducked your face in his neck, embarrassed, and your shaking hands grasped onto the back of his suit jacket to hold onto him comfortingly. 

“Let’s get you inside and into bed, okay?” he whispered to you, stroking your hair with a gentle hand that rubbed down your back. 

You nodded and sniffled and stepped away from him so he could hurry and turn the car off, gather your purse, and then return to your side to help you inside. Your spotless house greeted you warmly when George flicked on the lights but once glimpse at the kitchen had you panicked again. 

“We didn’t even get to eat. You must be starving-“

“I’m okay.” George assured you quickly, steering you towards the hallway so he could take you to bed, “I can find something for us. Are you hungry at all?”

“Maybe a little.” you answered softly. 

“Okay,” George pulled back the perfectly tucked bedsheets on your side of the bed and sat you down carefully, “I’ll get you into bed and maybe warm up some soup.” 

“Okay.” you breathed. 

He reached around you to unzip your dress and you lifted your arms up so he could pull it over your head. 

“I wanted us to have a nice night.” you mumbled sadly. 

“Hey,” George took your chin in his hand gently to get you to look at him, “I kinda enjoyed myself when we were there, did you not?” 

A little smile pricked at the corner of your mouth at his implication and you nodded slightly in agreement, “Yeah. I did.”

He smiled proudly back at you, your dress draped over his arm, and he reached behind you again to unclip your bra. He undressed you carefully and then helped you to shuffle into one of his sweatshirts. 

“I ruined your promotion.” you sighed sadly. 

“You didn’t ruin anything.” George assured you, gently untying the ribbon from your hair, as his voice lowered to a whisper, “It’s just a job…it’s barely a job. You know that.” 

“Yeah.” you said, “Although it’s nice that you’re being recognized. Makes this all a little easier.” 

George didn’t answer you for a second, his gentle hands stroking through your hair to smooth it down over your shoulders. When you looked up at him at his lack of response, he appeared deep in thought. 

“What is it?” you frowned. 

“Do you think you should take a pregnancy test, darling?” he asked softly. 

You almost scoffed, “What for?”

“Because you’ve been really tired and dizzy and you just threw up in our garden?” 

You bit lightly at your bottom lip and dropped your gaze to your lap. George’s fingers still danced through your hair as he stood in front of you, letting you decide on your answer for yourself. 

“I don’t think I could deal with it being negative.” you whispered to the carpet. “I can’t deal with that anymore and especially not here. I’ll fucking lose it.” 

George’s thumbs caressed your cheeks and he crouched down in front of you so you could look at him, taking your hands in his, “I know you want this more than anything but that’s the reason why we came here, remember? To have what we always wanted? You keep psyching yourself up about this like we’re still at home that you’re not even letting yourself enjoy it and think of the positives of what could be. We have this whole opportunity for us and I don’t want anything to hold us back from living this life that has been built for us.”

You nodded. 

George brought your joined hands to his mouth and he kissed your knuckles without taking his eyes off your downcast gaze and he whispered against your soft skin, “Please take a test?” 

You sniffled and lifted your head back to stare at the ceiling. 

“Please?” George said softly, pausing to kiss your hand again, “I’ll be right here.” 

Your bottom lip trembled and you shyly met his gaze, feeling warm butterflies in your stomach by the way the man you loved stared at you. It was obvious that he loved you more than life itself and you felt the exact same right back. With a moment's thought, you nodded and breathed out a barely audible, “Okay.” 

George honestly smiled and he stood up again, pausing just long enough to kiss your head before he was hurrying into the ensuite and pulled open the bottom cabinet, “Okay!”

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes as you tried to calm yourself down since your anxiety started to bubble up more in your chest. Still in a full face of makeup, smudging was the least of your concerns at that moment and you focused on deep breathing and keeping your tears at bay. 

George returned to his spot in front of you and he held out the pregnancy test to you. You could see how excited and impatient he was - even if he tried to tone it down for your sake - and the thought of having to tell him it was yet another negative made your throat feel like razor blades. Every time it completely broke your heart. He was so strong. This was your last resort. You had given up everything for this one last chance. 

You took the unopened test from him and felt the weight of it in your hands for a moment, staring down at the blank screen. 

“Where do you want me?” he asked thoughtfully. 

“Can you come in with me?” your voice was shaking. 

“Sure, sweetheart.” George stepped to the side and let you get up from the side of the bed.

You were less dizzy and nauseous but still terribly tired and he followed you closely into the bathroom just to make sure you were steady…and for your emotional support. He sat up on the bathroom counter as you shuffled your panties down and helped yourself to the toilet, holding the test between your legs while your singular evening party drink went right through you. 

You couldn’t remember what number test this was that you had taken and although it was the first since moving into this perfect little paradise of a community, the memory of your past experiences never faded. Your mind whirled with thoughts of the worst…if the alcohol in your recent drink would mess up the results, if you just had a sickness and that’s why you felt so strange all day, if you were too far lost for even a utopian community to save you and your dream.

The test was re-capped and George took it from you to rinse off while you cleaned yourself up and flushed. You wanted to be as far away from it as possible and you returned to the bedroom to sit on the side of the bed while George checked the time on his watch, test resting on the counter patiently. 

“Three minutes.” George said, following after you back into the bedroom. “Do you need anything? Some water maybe?” 

“No thank you.” you mumbled. 

He hesitated in front of you. 

“I’m going to get you some water.”

“George-”

He was already half out the bedroom door, “Be right back!”

He couldn’t sit still. You couldn’t move.

From the distant kitchen, you could hear him whistling that same tune that had been stuck in your head for ages but you didn’t have the energy to think much of it. Your leg bounced restlessly off the side of the bed, unknowing of the time, and you awaited your husband's return. He was so selfless. He was so good. 

Soon, he was returning quickly and he passed you a glass of water; always one to stay busy. You sipped a bit of it to humour him and despite the fact that your mouth was terribly dry, you did not want to drink. You almost felt sick again. Not wanting to go through the discomfort of throwing up again, you clenched your lips shut and stared at the carpet, trying to keep yourself calm. 

George checked his watch. 

You held out your glass to him as if by instinct and started to get up. 

“You should drink more, love-”

“I’m gonna be sick again.” you hurried out as you pushed past him into the ensuite. 

Dropping to your knees at the toilet, you threw up loudly, struggling to hold back your tears. George set your glass on the counter and crouched behind you to comfort you by pulling your hair from your face as your body had you lurching to throw up again. He rubbed your back and your shoulders and hummed that silly little tune quietly to try and help calm you down. 

“I’m sorry.” you mumbled weakly. 

“Stop apologizing.” he tisked, following you onto the ground as you slumped from your knees onto your bum. You leaned back against his chest and he flushed the toilet for you before wrapping you up in his arms lovingly, pressing tender kisses to your head. “Through sickness and health, remember?”

You let a small smile come to your lips at the faint memory of the quaint English church in the countryside, the gentle organ playing, and George standing before you at the altar with his hands holding yours. It felt like so long ago as if the essence of time was skewed in your mind. In a way, it really was. Life was so different now but you both were sure this would be better…be worth the end of what once was to find your new beginning together. 

“I love you.” you whispered. 

“I love you.” he promised into your hair. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” you sighed. 

He gave your hands a squeeze, “Think you can stand and we can take a look at this test of ours?”

You bit nervously at your bottom lip, “You look at it.” 

“You don’t want to look at it with me?”

You shook your head.

“You sure?”

You nodded.

“Can I help you off the floor first at least?”

You permitted him to stand up and he slowly helped you up onto wobbly legs and you returned to the bedroom to sit on the side of the bed. Picking anxiously at your fingernails, you watched as he returned to the bathroom counter directly in your line of vision. He took one last glance at you before he was picking up the pregnancy test from the counter and flipping it over to read it, not giving himself a moment to second guess himself. 

You struggled to read his expression as he read the result; his eyebrows furrowed and lips in a soft pout. You were waiting for the news you had grown all too used to. He wasn’t saying anything and you certainly didn’t want to be the first one to speak. 

George little sniffle had your heart racing with anxiety, making you near positive that it was yet another negative. He looked over at you from the ensuite, bathed in the surrounding artificial light in his tuxedo with his gelled hair falling out of place, and his soft pout was unmissable. A single tear slipped down his cheek. 

You sat frozen in place, aching for him to just rip off the bandaid, “What?”

“You’re pregnant.” he breathed, his voice breaking. 

It felt as though the air was knocked from your lungs. You blinked at him, “What?”

George broke into a grin and he nodded, reaching up to wipe his eyes with the heel of his palms before taking another look at the test. He let out a wet chuckle at the result that stared back at him, “Holy shit.”

“Bring it here.” you ordered, almost panicking in disbelief. 

George joined you on the side of the bed and you grabbed the test from him, almost glaring down at it in your hand. The screen revealed two pink lines, one just a little more faded than the other but still clearly visible to the naked eye. 

“See it?” George pointed to it as if you couldn’t see it yourself. “It’s so clear.” 

Your mouth opened as if to say something but no words came out. No words felt adequate at that moment. Opening and closing your mouth like a clueless fish, you felt dizzy with emotional overwhelm. 

“You’re pregnant, baby.” George rehashed it to you sweetly with a smile as he rubbed his hand over your back, “You have a little us growing inside you right now.” 

You couldn’t tear your wide eyes away from the positive test in your hand, stumbling over your next breath as you struggled to hold back the sudden wave of tears that threatened to overtake you. The air felt lighter and you gasped for relief, letting it out with a sob to your bedroom walls. 

“Oh God.” you cried tears of joy, your trembling hands clutching the positive test in your two handed grip and you pulled it to your chest. 

George embraced you right away, pulling you close with happy tears of his own. You turned towards him lovingly and rested your head on his shoulder with your face tucked in his neck, letting him hold you just like that, basking in the relief that was felt by the both of you. Your tears dripped onto the fabric of his tuxedo jacket even as you held open your palms again to get another look at those two pink lines. George kissed your temple proudly. 

“I love you.” he whispered shakily. 

“I love you.” you sniffled and finally turned to look him in the eye. 

Through your tears, you shared quivering grins and he reached a hand up to caress your cheek and then pulled you in for a wet chasté kiss. Both of you were smiling into your kisses but you couldn’t get enough and the love that swelled in your heart was almost overpowering, forcing you to grab onto his tie and really hold his lips on yours. Your tear streaked cheeks pressed together moistly and your kisses tasted faintly of those salty tears you shared but the warm happiness that burned within the two of you was enough to overtake even the darkest of days. 

You broke your kiss only to stare down at the confirmation you held in your hands, your palms delicately supporting the proof of your destiny. Sniffling as your tears slowed, you leaned against your husband who never once left your side, letting his fingers brush your hair over your shoulder so he could lean in beside you cheek to cheek.

“It was all worth it.” he said softly, rubbing his hand over your back, “I knew this would be good for us.” 

You nodded. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, noting your silence. 

You looked back at him with a calm smile and lifted a hand up to slide around the back of his neck and rest his forehead against yours, “So happy. And finally so at peace.”

“Good.” George whispered. “You deserve nothing less.”

“We’re finally gonna have our family, George.” you smiled sweetly, “You and me. What we’ve been waiting so long for.” 

He swallowed you up in his arms, hugging you so tightly and so lovingly that you swore you never felt the heat of his love pass onto you as strongly before as it did in that moment. You felt as light as air and you melted into him happily, a peaceful smile on your face as you held onto him and let a content tune hum pleasantly from your lips. 

The egg sizzled as it hit the bottom of the hot skillet, the kitchen filled with warm morning sunlight and the smell of cooking breakfast and brewing coffee that lured George from down the hall to join you. In only his work slacks and socks with his tie draped around his bare neck, he made you his priority over getting dressed, enveloping you in the scent of his cologne as he wrapped his arms around you from behind and dipped his shaved face into your neck. 

His hands glided softly under the hem of his sweatshirt you wore to feel the smooth skin of your still generally flat stomach, “Good morning, mommy.” 

You grinned to the stovetop at the reminder of the long-awaited news you had found out the night before and you leaned your head back against his shoulder to guide his lips to yours for a soft kiss. With his thumbs rubbing lovingly over your warm skin, you melted happily into him, “Good morning, daddy.”

Purely innocent and bursting with love for your family of two that would soon be made three, you shared a few more lingering kisses that made your heart swell. 

“You sure you feel up to making breakfast?” George asked softly with one more caress to your stomach and a kiss to your neck. 

“Yeah.” you assured him easily. “I like making you breakfast.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I’m feeling so much better.” 

George kissed your temple and then slid away from you to retrieve his shirt from the ironing board where it was left in the living room as it was every morning. 

“Newspaper is already on the table.” you told him as he buttoned up his shirt on his way back over to you. “Your promotion made the front page.”

Living in such a small tight-knit community, there wasn’t much to report upon which only made George’s promotion big news. Front page worthy. He stopped at his usual spot at the kitchen island and glanced down at the newspaper as he tied his tie around his neck under the collar of his freshly ironed white shirt. Pausing to take a bite of toast from the plate that you had set beside the newspaper, he chewed as he straightened out his tie, still skimming the article. 

“I don’t know what’s the big deal.” he spoke through his mouthful, “Not like it’s a real promotion.” 

“Well, not everyone knows that.” you answered calmly, still tending to the bacon and eggs on the stove. 

“I guess.” George flipped to the next page before reaching for his mug for a sip of the steaming coffee that you had poured him. 

“We’re lucky to even be here under these circumstances. The other wives don’t know a thing.” 

George glanced up at you, knowing your conversation was treading towards dangerous territory surrounding the topic that was to be completely silenced under your discretion. You weren’t wrong, however, and thus it allowed you to be the one couple in the community that could freely speak to it - so long as you were completely alone and out of earshot of anyone else. 

“Does it scare you?” George asked. 

You plated the bacon and eggs and merely shrugged, “Sometimes. I don’t know their stories or why they’re here…what exactly led them to be a part of this without their knowledge. I can only hope that the husbands did it for the right reasons.” 

Your two plates clinked gently against the island countertop as you set them between you. 

“Besides,” you continued, “all I need to worry about is you and me. And our baby.” 

George broke into a grin and he leaned in to kiss you sweetly. 

“I know that we’re here for the right reasons.” you rubbed your hand up his chest and around the back of his neck, staring adoringly into his soft blue eyes.

“And that’s all that matters,” he agreed. “You and me.”

“You and me.” you nodded, pulling his lips on yours for another quick kiss. “And baby.”

“And baby.” he whispered happily. “Still so crazy…going to have to get used to that.” 

“I know.” you fed him a piece of bacon, “It’s only been months and months of trying and waiting.” 

“Are you going to start telling people today?”

“Should I?”

“If you want to.”

You took a bite of bacon for yourself, staring back at him with a sweet smile you couldn’t hold back, “Okay. Maybe I will.” 

Breakfast was eaten in close proximity, taking second rank of importance behind lovable kisses and whispers of excitement and adoration for each other and your growing family. George took one more piece of bacon for the road before he was grabbing his lunch tin and you were following him to the front door to say your goodbyes. 

“I really don’t want you to go.” you whispered, standing in the warm morning light of the foyer with your arms around his waist as he shrugged on his jacket. 

“I know, darling.” George smiled sadly. “But now more than ever it’s imperative that I go every day.”

“I know.” you sighed. “I love you for that.”

George held your face in his hands and pulled your lips to his for a brief kiss before telling you honestly, “I hate leaving.”

“I know.”

You shared another kiss as he insisted, “It’s the worst.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s scary sometimes.” 

“I know.” you leaned into him to capture his lips with yours in a lingering chasté kiss. 

He sighed into it through his nose, gently sliding his hands from your face down your shoulders and arms, and as he broke your kiss, he guided your hands out from around his waist. You laced your fingers together lazily between you and kissed him once more. 

“We’ll be waiting.” you promised. 

George’s melancholy expression pricked into a smile and he took one hand from yours to dust over the front of the sweatshirt you wore and then dip under the hem, caressing your warm skin lovingly. 

“Can’t wait until you start showing.” 

“Me neither.” you gushed, holding up your sweater for him as you both stared down at what was to become your baby, fingers of your other hands still linked together. 

George sunk down onto his knees and he gently slid his hands around your waist to press warmly against your back to pull you close. He dusted a sweet kiss to your stomach, right under your belly button, caressing your skin with his gentle loving hands, and you would have absolutely swooned. 

“Bye bye, my little one. Be good to mummy today.”

As he stood up, he gave you a smooth kiss next that you were both smiling into. 

“I love you.” you grinned adoringly. 

“I love you.” he promised, his eyes skimming across your make-up free face as if you were the most beautiful thing he had seen in his life, “See you tonight.”

“See you.” you breathed, letting him slip away from you and out the front door. 

You stood on the porch and waved him goodbye as he pulled the car out of the driveway and made his daily drive down your street among the line of fellow men as they journeyed to work together in a single file line.

George whistled happily in his car as the morning breeze took him to the outskirts of the neighbourhood and towards the vast desert landscape that framed your little oasis. With one arm resting on the open window beside him, he coasted in the steady lineup of cars that navigated towards the highly confidential headquarters where all the local men were to report for work at precisely 9am every morning. He hated leaving you but only more so now that you had both found out that you were finally expecting. On the other hand, it only proved to himself that his responsibility to attend his daily expectations was of the utmost importance. 

As the glass structure atop the desert mountains grew closer on his approach, his car radio crackled to life with the expected daily recording. 

“All male citizens on route to headquarters. Schedule is one time.” 

George absolutely dreaded the idea of leaving you but he had a duty to withhold that allowed you to live your life together in your ideal oasis that was already starting to give you everything you ever wanted. So he took the drive without complaint as the road turned into the steep mountainous climb towards the building overseeing the guarded little castaway town. 

The radio spoke again with the voice of the mayor, “Security risk is low. All units expected to pass without fault. Arriving at the gate in 3…2…1-”

George’s chest gasped for air as his vision burst from light into the darkness that surrounded him, staring up into the dizzying patterns of light that were projected onto the ceiling above. He reached towards his face and carefully removed the metal clamps from his eye sockets and blinked feverishly a few times as the moisture re-settled over his irises. The wavering sound of white noise that filled the darkened room was almost invisible to him now and as he sat himself up in the bed and stretched his arms over his head and twisted his spine until it cracked in relief, he was unbothered by it. 

On his left, laying flat beside him, you laid peacefully, staring at the ceiling. The same clamps that he had been wearing also kept your eyes open, staring blankly up to the dark ceiling and the projection of light patterns that kept you stagnant. George shifted to face you on the bed and leaned down to kiss your pale cheek and caress your arm with the back of his finger. 

“I’m here, love.” he whispered, his voice slightly hoarse, “I’m still right here with you.”

Leaving you in place, he slowly got up from the bed and let his bare feet touch the cold wood floor beneath him as he opened the blackout curtains that framed the bed. The room was still pitch black outside of the canopy bed thanks to the extra safety barrier of curtains that covered each drafty window. You couldn’t be too safe. 

The floorboards creaked under George’s every step as he navigated the bedroom like he would every weekday and he pulled open the curtains from over one of the corner windows, allowing the room to be illuminated sufficiently by the morning sun. His eyes burned as the stream of bright light came flooding in and he rubbed his eyes with his fists as he once again became adjusted to the reality that surrounded him. 

The sunlight guided him to the nearby dust filled table in the corner of the room where he nudged a few of the dated newspapers and magazines to the side, ignoring the way the oldest copy of the Daily Mirror peeked out from the bottom of the pile with a headline that he always avoided looking at and yet couldn’t stomach throwing away. 

MAN & WOMAN DEAD IN TRAGIC DUAL SUICIDE

Your wedding picture was printed in black and white just below. 

George flipped open his notebook and sat down on the rickey wooden chair to write the date at the top of the fresh page and then recorded his physical status. He took his height, weight, heart-rate, and blood pressure and then did the same for you - all but weight - as you laid limpy on the bed. He scribbled the numbers down carefully and made sure to check you twice just to make sure everything was as it should be - especially since you were now in such delicate condition back in your perfect oasis. He couldn’t afford a single thing to go wrong. You were counting on him after all. 

“Perfect numbers today, darling.” George whispered to you as he closed his notebook and capped his pen, returning them both to the messy table across the room. 

Having been in only his boxers, George grabbed a folded sweatshirt from the bin under the table and pulled it on to brave against the chilly Scottish air that helped itself through the beams of the worn log cabin otherwise protecting you from the elements. He stepped out of the bedroom and made his way down the narrow hallway to the quaint and virtually untouched kitchen and living room area. The well water collection from Monday still sat on the counter and he scooped himself a glass of water to rehydrate for a moment as he took in the scenic views through the large tinted windows. 

Miles of lush forest sprawled in all directions for as far as he could see and after so long, he had started to forget which way was north or even which way civilization was. The Scottish highlands and forests were your only protection. Sometimes he wished you were able to watch the sunrise with him over the mountain peaks ever again but he had to force himself to stop missing what could be and focus on what now is. Your life was perfect together. Just you and him. 

Never permitted to set foot outside the cabin, George took the stairs down to the cellar and patted barefoot across the stone floor in the dark until he reached the sliver of light that peeked through the cellar door from outside. Hidden beneath the shallow stairs that led to the fresh air, a grey bin sat in the pitch black.

George knew the routine well so his eyes didn’t need time to focus as he crouched under the stairs and shuffled through the bin in the dark. The rustle of grocery bags drew his hands in and he lifted them up and out of the hiding spot to take back upstairs. He only reached back in for the final item - a small bouquet of flowers still wrapped in cellophane from the store. 

With a soft smile on his face, George took his time returning to the kitchen and he set his delivery on the stone countertop. The first bag contained a few food items for him such as non-perishable canned beans, peas, and cooked pastas in tomato sauce as well as a new bar of soap, a razor, and a few more similar necessities. The second bag contained a sealed medical kit in which George found needles, gause, tape, and rubbing alcohol. The medical bag of clear liquid was carefully wrapped in a clean towel alongside it. 

George organized the supplies into piles and then lifted up the bouquet of flowers again, pulling down the cellophane slightly to get a good look at the mix of brightly-colored tulips, peonies, roses, and hydrangeas nestled in a halo of baby's breath and greenery. He raised it to his nose to take a deep inhale, savouring the heavenly scent of fresh flowers. 

The card that was nestled within the flowers called his attention and he opened the little blank envelope to pull out the message inside. 

Happy anniversary 🤍

He always requested weekly flowers from his sister in order to keep some sense of romantic normalcy in your changing lives together but her little sneaky addition of the card brought a tearful smile to his face. He had almost forgotten your anniversary among the strange twists of life and time. Life in your new home was different than in the physical world…both in reality and the linear flow of time. He would have to make a point to buy you something in the shops on his drive back to your shared home that evening. 

But the generosity of his older sister never went unnoticed and he thanked the stars that he turned to her to keep your biggest secret. You had allowed George to choose the one person who would be your supplier for virtually the rest of your lives in hiding since he would be the one between the two of you who would return to the real world almost daily. It wasn’t a small ask to have her be the only person in the world to know your whereabouts and your story - to hide that from your families and friends as they grieved what they thought was your tragic and sudden death - but she was your most trustworthy and safest bet. Her devotion to her brother and you - her sister-in-law - was monumental and she managed to deliver the necessities to your secret hideaway twice a week like clockwork. George never knew how he would ever repay her. 

George took his time freshening up with the water from the well, sparingly rinsing himself off with soap and a washcloth before shaving over the bone dry bathroom sink to get the best look he could of himself in the grimy and cracked mirror. Even if you would never see him in person again, he always wanted to look his best for you. 

Then it was your turn and he took the bags back to your bedroom and set up the chair at your bedside to tend to you. You were laying perfectly still in your nightgown on the sturdy mattress with your ankles bound to the footboard and your arms resting at your sides. The IV needle was taped gently into your forearm and the bag hung on the metal pole just beside the bed, allowing a slow but steady drip of calorie-rich medicated liquid to keep your body fed and nourished while you laid in your stagnant state. 

George first replaced the flowers in the vase beside your bed, removing the week-old ones for the fresh ones that had been delivered by his sister. He refilled their water and arranged them nicely and spoke to you quietly about how nice they looked and how pretty they smelled. 

With washed hands and wearing medical gloves just to be extra cautious, George gently pulled the tape away from your skin and twisted off the IV drip from the needle that stayed nestled in your forearm. He wiped the area with rubbing alcohol to disinfect it and then retaped the needle in place. As he worked, he thought back to your conversation that morning and tried to imagine where the other husbands were at that moment and how they could tend to their wives like this without their consent. It nearly made George sick to think about that - about the possibility of having the one you loved most trapped there under his control for who knows how long simply for his own gain. That’s what made you and George different. You were in it together. You were in it for each other. 

With another clean cloth and the bar of soap, George gently washed down your body and rinsed you off the best he could, tending to you lovingly. He brushed your hair and your teeth and made sure you were lying comfortably even if you couldn’t feel anything. Leaning over you cautiously, he dropped a few eye drops into your still eyes to keep them moist as they were being held open by the metallic clamps. 

He then pulled out the new medical bag from the delivery from his sister and replaced it on the IV pole. He screwed in a fresh tube into the bottom of the bag and then attached the other end to the needle in your arm, double checking to make sure the drip was steady and as it should be. You only deserved the most precise treatment. 

To pass the day and keep an eye on you, he helped himself to a can of beans that he opened with a dull knife and hid the rest of the food stock away under the table in the bedroom. He sat at your bedside and ate quietly, keeping an eye on you and the IV as the minutes passed in the silence. 

When the food was done, George collected all of his garbage and any sign of life from the kitchen to hide away in an empty grocery bag in the bedroom until he would have to place it in the cellar bin for his sister to retrieve at her next stop-over. He locked the bedroom door behind him and returned to your bedside, straightening up the vase on your nightstand and he gently picked up the white music box beside it. The lid was topped with a baby blue decal of a sleeping puppy and framed in little stars and George smiled softly down at it as he turned it around in his hands to crank the tiny handle at the bottom. 

He had purchased it years ago when you were first trying for a baby, back when life was simple but the weight of its burdens rested heavy on your shoulders. Back then, it all seemed hopeful and exciting as newlyweds wanting to expand your family and George couldn’t help but buy something to surprise you on the eventual day you would find out you were pregnant. He never ended up being able to gift it to you but it stayed with him the whole time and found its rightful place in this cabin with you while you gave up your lives for your ultimate dream. 

When the music box was fully primed, he delicately turned it back around in his hands and opened the lid, letting the familiar gentle tune fill your otherwise silent cabin. He had shamefully played it a few times before when he would find himself alone during the days and waiting beside your still body just like that, maybe to hope for some sort of promise that things would work out. He never knew you could subconsciously hear him during the days when he left to tend to you like that but he found comfort in it too. Neither of you were ever truly alone. 

The soft tune played softly from the nursery music box and George helped himself to his side of the bed alongside you, resting back against the pillows to stare at you just a little longer in the patterned lights that were projected to the ceiling of your canopy bed. Soon, he would be called back by the passing of time to return to your true presence in your perfect little paradise with your growing dream tucked safely inside you. 

[thursdayinspace]

So I rewatched "Our Town" last night and when I sat down at my laptop this morning to do something that was not writing, I ended up writing instead. These things happen. Just a silly fluffy-ish little thing because omg that ep is so gross and also Scully has to be getting sick of being abducted all the time. Mulder feels the same way.

She can’t sleep. It’s not every day you almost get beheaded—even after everything that she’s already been through this year, it seems there are still things that can shake her up pretty badly. She rolls over on the lumpy motel mattress and tries to get comfortable. For a glorious moment, she considers quitting. Handing Skinner her resignation and walking away, finding a nice job with regular hours where people won’t handcuff her to radiators, stick her in closets, contort their stretchy bodies through cracks in her bathroom window, or drive her around in the trunks of their cars before handing her over to aliens or the government or whatever theory Mulder’s going with right now. A job where she won’t spend the end of a work day strapped into a metal harness as a guy in a mask raises an ax above her head.

In her mind she pictures a simple life: a nice house with a yard, a dog greeting her as she opens the door and walks inside after a long day at the hospital…no, a private practice? A day of teaching? Whatever she’s been doing, she walks into a kitchen that smells like home-cooked dinner, leaning up to kiss her faceless husband who’s vaguely Mulder-shaped. “Honey, I’m home!” “Dinner’s almost ready! How was your day?” “Fine. Narrowly avoided decapitation. Nothing exciting.” Fuck. Not even fantasy-Scully can escape the absurdity of this life.

The knock on her door doesn’t even surprise her. She already knows who it is. He stopped waking her unless it’s something really important, so she groans and gets up, her bones aching, weeping inwardly as she makes her way to the door. So she can’t sleep; that doesn’t mean she wants to spend the night going over their case report or whatever that infuriatingly charming insomniac wants from her this time.

But when she opens the door, he doesn’t look as if he wants to go over case reports. He looks like shit. As much as that’s even possible for him. Another thing that’s simply unfair about her life, she thinks with a sigh. Even with bags under his eyes and pale as a sheet he still looks beautiful. “Mulder?” she says.

He doesn’t answer, just steps right into her and pulls her into a wordless hug, so tight she’s a little afraid he’ll crack her ribs. She hugs him back weakly and pats his back, not quite sure what else to do since she has no idea what the fuck he’s even doing. She expects him to pull back, but he just keeps holding on, and she’s genuinely having trouble breathing.

“Uh, Mulder?” she says again, a little louder.

“You’re okay,” he mumbles into her hair, and she wiggles in his arms, trying to loosen his grip.

“Not for much longer if you don’t let go.”

“Sorry.” He drops his arms and takes a step back, but keeps looking at her like he’s never seen her before. “Sorry, I just—”

“It’s fine,” she says. “Did you have a bad dream?”

He shakes his head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah.” She grimaces. “Me neither. It’s been…a day.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, and she laughs. She’s too tired not to.

“Thanks to your timely rescue, my head is still firmly attached to my body.” It sounds a little bitter, and she’s surprised at herself before she feels another little piece of her frustration clicking into place. Ah, yes, she thinks. There’s that too. Rescued once again. She makes a mental note: fantasy-Scully in her little imaginary suburban nine-to-five utopia will never have to be rescued. She’s gonna be the one doing all the rescuing. Except nobody needs to be rescued in that perfect little world, because nothing bad ever happens to anyone.

“You don’t sound okay,” Mulder says, and she closes her eyes for a second. She’s not annoyed with him, she reminds herself. It’s not his fault that she became part of these townsfolks’ dinner plans, and it’s not his fault that she needed him to keep that from happening.

“I’m just a little tired.”

“I’ll let you sleep.” He sounds exhausted and when she looks at him, she sees leftover fear in his eyes. “No more interruptions, I promise.”

Her hand reaches out for his before she’s fully conscious of what she’s doing. It’s just that he’s here and she’s had enough of being Agent Scully for tonight, and he really looks so much like Doctor Scully’s faceless dinner-cooking husband in her nice little fantasy home. “Come on,” she says.

“What are you—”

“Bed,” she explains, hoping he won’t ask any more questions.

“Oh. Okay.”

She gets in on her side and is relieved when he lies down next to her without another word. She closes her eyes, but she can feel him stock-still as a statue next to her, she can feel the tension radiating off of him, and, hell, it sounds like he’s even trying to breathe without making a sound. So she grabs his arm and rolls onto her side, tugging him with her until he has his back against her chest, and she holds firmly onto his hand and snuggles back into him.

“Scully?” he asks, sounding a little confused.

“Relax, Mulder,” she tells him. “Sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“About sleeping?”

“You know what I mean.”

She laughs and squeezes his fingers. “No. Of course not. But honestly? I really don’t care right now.”

“Okay,” he says, and he gets it, she knew he’d get it. “Okay,” he repeats, and laces their fingers together. She feels him lift his head, feels his hot breath against the side of her face, and then a gentle kiss against the corner of her eye. “Good night, Scully.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

Behind her closed eyelids, fantasy Scully lies just like this with her faceless partner, who’s just as warm and smells just as good as real Scully’s friend-partner spooned up behind her. The only difference is that her own real Mulder is…well, real. No matter how perfect her beautiful little dream house with her beautiful perfect husband may be, she kind of prefers snuggling with someone who has a face and a name. And maybe she’d actually miss the mess.

Not all of it. Not the ax-swinging, homicidal maniacs or the lumpy motel mattresses. But a partner who knocks on her door in the middle of the night because he couldn’t sleep without making sure she was okay? Who sleeps wrapped around her with his breath ruffling the hair at the back of her neck, knowing this isn’t leading anywhere other than comfort and friendship? And…she kisses the backs of his fingers once she convinces herself he’s probably asleep…a vague hope that maybe this won’t always be all there is between them?

Yeah. She’ll take it.

[route-to-eutopia-if]

Route to Eutopia - New WIP IF

DEMO(28K) I CHARACTER DOSSIERS I PLAYLIST (TBA)

You have one year left to live.

But are you afraid of dying? Probably not. Since you don’t even know how to live your life. You have been hidden away from public eye since young. And the only friend you have is an Alter, humanoid species born to only serve other people and nothing else. Alters live so ‘people like you’ could live.

That makes the two of you. Alive. But never here. Never lived.

If opportunities arise, would you take a chance to change it? Only you can answer.

In a world where feeling nothing at all is better than letting your emotions rule over you, your choice to break those rules and make a change will paint a new shade of history that no one ever could. 

Hidden behind shut doors to live your quiet life as a secret child of Bastien Palmer, Sole Leader of Eutopia paradise, you never experience anything except for repeating the same old routine your entire life. You are the existence which should not be known, not just for the reason that you are the byproduct of your father and his secret lover. But also because of your frightening ‘Alter-like’ eye color, most of it is silver like any Stargaze–but nevertheless… tinted shamefully by crimson streaks.

You are told to stay away from public eyes for the sake of Palmer’s reputation in which you feel obliged to. However, your life of peaceful solitude will never be the same again after tonight…

Route to Eutopia is a violent dystopian loosely-conceptual interactive story where you are a bystander surrounded by The Chosen One of your own choice. You are to designate whether this story will head towards the direction of mutual peace between Alters– a human-like species believed to be plagued by uncured disease since birth– and Stargazers —a group of survivors whose ancestors once lived on a faraway planet before an inevitable disaster occurred and forced them to flee into another dimension, or towards a doom fate that cannot be reversible.

To be noted; RtE is a heavily-relationship based game (not necessarily in platonic/romantic sense) each of your interactions with any character will determine the tone and purpose of their motivation. Any choice you have chosen, make sure to embrace the consequences of your action at your own expense.

With that being said, it is also worth mentioning that you don’t need to engage into a romance or specific relationship with any character to complete the story.

RtE also rated 18+ for strong language, suggestive contents, disturbing topics such as racism, sexism, discrimination against queer people, explicit descriptions of violence, murders, drug use and sexual behaviors of certain characters with optional intercourse scenes.

Setting

RtE takes place in a post-apocalypse society where the concept of time is lost and any history known was only speculations at best and rumour at worst. Trying to maintain their sense of utopia, Stargazers built and operated their space colony as a temporary base for self-preservation (in which only fews know details about) called ‘Eutopia’. 

In this dystopian paradise people’s sole purpose of living was fixated on surviving. And in order to do that, the whole population creates a solid ground rule not to let themselves ‘feel’ about other emotions that do not serve for public favors. Hence, you will be challenged to adapt to several situations and handpick the best flavor of your actions based on the emotions you have learnt or developed from your surroundings.

Who do you play as?

For now, you will be playing as a secret child of Bastien Palmer, the leader of Stargazers who already has a wife and two other perfect children, your younger sister and brother. Ones you have never interacted with nor you ever get the chance to.

MCs subjectively considered a white sheet which you can paint anything on by your preferences. Explore the world full of colorful emotions or bottomless pit of numbness by your own choices. 

But remember, Eutopia is a place where everything goes according to one simple rule ‘To survive’ hence the marriage between a man and woman will be set as the norm and only truth, and someone who will state otherwise must face and suffer the ugliness of social standards accordingly. However, I do not encourage any transphobic/homophobic behavior of the characters in this story. Please kindly be assured of that.

There might be a chance where you can start off as other characters, that is, however, still a subject-to-change matter as of now.

Introduction to the Chosen Ones [ ROs]

**Please be aware of mild spoilers below**

Vegaris (M/F) 19 Star-crossed lovers or Nemesis route, The Rebel.

They would do anything to survive, even if it means to betray the only person who trusts them deeply… like you.

Vegaris is an Alter who has so many sides hidden behind closed doors. Unpredictable, cunning, hot and cold are the words that describe them best. Due to their traumatic childhood (much like other Alters on Eutopia), they have a deep-root hatred for Stargazers. Although they were brought in by your family and treated almost the same as one of your father’s own kids. They still witness the unfairness of being an Alter in society and never afraid to point the wrong in other people’s doings. 

Their usual mask, however, is one where you cannot crack open that easily. They always remain calm and composed in front of you, and only show their fangs when circumstances arise.

Dana/Darren Regency (M/F) 22 Childhood friends, Forbidden route, The Face.

For a person who seems to be easy to read as much as an open-book, they sure talk with silence better than with their own voice.

A poster girl/boy for Regency Academy. Your former childhood friend (for some unknown reason, they're trying their hardest to avoid you) and an only child to the Head of Deans at Regency, Sandalphon. They are the precise image of how one should raise a Stargazer. Being a honor student. A model citizen. And a perfect ideal partner. They are assigned to be married with the most capable genetic-wise fiancé. As popular as they appear to be to the public, their private life (as private as it can be) is still a gigantic loophole for most imprudent reporters trying to catch even just a glimpse.

It seems like what they are trying to avoid is not just you, but the entirety of Eutopia.

Sandalphon Regency (M/F) 40 Age-difference, Single-parent route, The Pacifist.

Do you believe in something just because it's true, or it becomes the truth only when you believe in it?

Sandalphon is the most powerful influence among the deans of Regency. A group of people that has control over governing matters even beyond that of Bastien Palmer, the President. For Sandal, they are anything and everything people could ever ask for in a Regency. Kind, generous, well-versed with every branch of knowledge in the universe. Never wrong in anything. And never judge anyone based on their bias.

If only people knew the truth, they’d probably beg to differ.

Maybe they are just good at hiding beneath that gentle facade, maybe a calculated mind with strings to pull works best with neutral suggestions... who knows?

One more hidden character will be revealed in the demo, Into the Madness route, The Savior.

[ Classified info. ]

**There will be two sub ROs and flings to be introduced later in the story.**

More info will be announced.

Demo 1st update : 24/01/2024 Chapter 1 (28k codes excluded)

Datalog is completed roughly til the end of the story. Coding and polishing will certainly take time. Any more updates will be announced solely on this blog.

Reblogging is appreciated. Thank you!

[peachesyeo]

Player 1117 ── ATEEZ OT8 0001 ─ into the game

THIS SERIES IS MATURE! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

⊹ 2k words ⊹ gamecharacters!ateez x fem!reader (ft. txt) ᭡ fantasy au, dark romance au, obsessive/yandere elements.

✧ a/n: i know you guys don't read my author's note so have fun. /: thank you @sousydive for beta reading.

✦ network: @newworldnet

⊂ warnings: -

:̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞? :̗̀➛ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? (for all works)

This cannot be true.

You stared at the young girl in the mirror before you. She seemed no more than twelve years old, her raven hair cascades in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her face like a midnight veil. Her eyes are pools of dark brown, with mesmerizing purple swirls dancing within her pupils. 

Her skin is fair and smooth, like porcelain, with a delicate rosy hue on her cheeks that speaks of youth and vitality. Her features were exactly of the Y/n in Utopia - a small button nose, full rosy lips and high cheekbones. She wears a silky sleeping gown, one that looks exactly the same as the one you are wearing right now. 

You raised your hand to touch your face, and so did her. 

You have read many novels about transmigrating - but novels are fiction. And this is real.

“I’m… in the game?” You whispered, your shaking fingers reaching to touch the mirror. But the cool touch on the tips of your fingers told you that this is not a dream, that everything is real. You looked around, the room you were in is spacious, with high ceilings adorned with intricately carved moldings and delicate crystal chandeliers. Sunlight streams through tall windows draped in dark amethyst curtains, glowing down on you.

The walls, floors and pillars were made of the finest marble, covered with sumptuous silk tapestries of flowers. You walked towards the nearest wall, running your fingers along the fine threads that form the images that seem to come alive in the flickering light of the candles and fireplace. 

In the center of the chamber sits a four-poster bed, its canopy draped in sheer silk curtains. The bed is covered in luxurious lavender silk sheets, embroidered with the finest silver thread. You walked over to them, taking a seat. They were soft and light, like you were sitting on a cotton cloud. You stared outside of the window, trying to digest the fact that you are in the game. 

But who are you?

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. You watched as a maid entered, bowing to you. “Greetings to the Star of Eternity. The Moon and Eclipse have requested your audience.” 

You nearly let out a squeak; the maid had answered your question. As two young boys walked in, you were even more certain of it.

You are now Choi Y/n, Star of Eternity, Princess of the Eternity Kingdom.

"Y/n!" The shorter one ran towards you, lifting you up in his arms as though you weighed nothing. "How is our little Star feeling today?"

"Beomgyu! Y/n's twelve, stop carrying her like that!" The taller one chided, as Beomgyu rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at his older brother in response. You wrapped your arms around his neck for support, staring up at your third brother's face.

Choi Beomgyu, the Eclipse of Eternity. He is the third Prince, known for his gift of creating illusions. Utopia did not have much of Y/n's backstory, but you knew that Beomgyu was the only person spared under Wooyoung's sword, and took over Eternity as the new King.

The Beomgyu holding you has long black hair that falls into his shoulders. He pressed a kiss onto your temple, rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat. "My little Star, so precious." He cooed, ignoring the exasperated sighs of your other brother across the room. "What would I do without you?"

You looked over to your other brother for help. He put his hand on his forehead tiredly. "Let Y/n down, Gyu. Please."

"You're all work and no fun, Soobin hyung." Beomgyu pouted unhappily, placing you gently back on the bed. "Is our little Star excited to meet her new friend?"

Choi Soobin, Moon of Eternity, the second Prince born with the gift of manipulating water. He would later become the War General of Eternity, dying to San in a battle.

Soobin shared the same raven hair as the both of you, his fringe falling in front of his eyes. He seemed to have had enough of Beomgyu, sighing loudly and flexing his right arm before casually delivering a loud smack on the back of Beomgyu's head. Ignoring Beomgyu's over-dramatic whines, Soobin approached you, kneeling on one knee to be at the same eye level as you. Taking your hand into his, Soobin had a simple dimpled smile on his face.

"Y/n-ah, remember when Mother mentioned that we have guests over? They are very important people, so remember to behave yourself, okay?"

You tilted your head in confusion. "How important are they, Brother?"

Beomgyu stopped whining and exchanged a look with Soobin. The other lifted his thumb and index, slowly pulling them apart. "It’s this important, Y/n-ah."

"The point is," Beomgyu interjected, earning a disapproving look from Soobin. "They will be arriving before dinner. Yeonjun hyung had already gone to welcome them along with Mother, so we have an afternoon for you to get ready, Y/n." He grinned, one that made you nervous for no reason. "Our little Star must be pretty too."

You glanced at Soobin. The older man nodded, wearing a satisfied expression on his face as though Beomgyu finally made sense. "I got you many dresses to try on, Y/n-ah. Shall we go?" He smiled, offering his hand to you.

You were bathed by the maids before they dressed you into a lavender dress with puffed sleeves and the hem fell gracefully to your knees. Beomgyu picked a purple silk ribbon, tying it to your hair while Soobin knelt on one knee, fitting a pair of white shoes with amethyst crystals onto your feet. When you were done, Beomgyu gushed in delight, showering you with compliments after compliments.

"Our Gem, our little Star," Beomgyu cooed as your face heated up at the praises. "Looking so pretty... I mean, you are always pretty, my Star, but right now, with my magnificent sense of fashion-"

"Our Star!" A loud voice boomed, sending everyone in the room jumping. A tall, blonde hair male barged in, his eyes lighting up the moment it landed on you. You hear Beomgyu mutter a curse under his breath while Soobin puts his hand on his chest. "Yeonjun hyung, at least announce that you're here!"

Yeonjun ignored him, making a beeline towards you and dismissing the maids in the process. "Our Star, so bright and... Why is she so purple?" His face scrunched up at the sight of the little purple crystals adorning your hair, which Beomgyu had 'generously' clipped onto your hair. "Take it off, take it off. The ribbon is purple enough; Y/n doesn't have to be a grape for the Kims to see."

Choi Yeonjun, Sun of Eternity, heir to the throne. He is the oldest out of the four of you, with an ability to soothe feelings. Your face fell slightly, remembering how Yeonjun had died when you played Utopia as the heroine. He was stabbed by...

Who was it?

"You don't know fashion at all, hyung." Beomgyu grumbled, cutting you off your thoughts. Soobin and Beomgyu had been quarreling over the hairclips, and you did not want to pick a side. Yeonjun removed all the crystals in your hair, leaving only the ribbon. "There, our Star shines bright enough like this."

"Thank you, Brothers." You smiled sweetly and the three cooed in response. Beomgyu had his hand dramatically held over his heart, Soobin covered his blushing face with his gloved hands and Yeonjun proudly grinning. "Wait until Mother and Father see you, little Star. Now, shall we run along?"

You took Yeonjun’s hand and allowed him to guide you to the banquet hall with Beomgyu and Soobin trailing behind you two like bodyguards. You could hear the activity in the hall from outside, and you gripped Yeonjun’s hand nervously.

"Announcing the arrival of the Sun, Moon, Eclipse, and Star of Eternity!" The voices of the guards boomed. Yeonjun squeezed your hand as the doors opened, revealing a quiet banquet hall. You could feel many eyes staring at you, but you remained composed, walking alongside Yeonjun to the King and Queen of Eternity. The nobles you walked past bowed respectfully, and when you finally reached the throne, Yeonjun let go of your hand.

"Greetings to Your Majesties," Yeonjun said, bowing to both the King and Queen of Eternity. You curtseyed, while Beomgyu and Soobin bowed behind you. “May peace be ever in your grace.” The King, your Father, nodded. “You may rise.” The King of Eternity is never shown in Utopia, but you knew that like Soobin, he died under San’s sword. You scanned the man on the throne. He seemed to be in his forties, with the same platinum blond hair as Yeonjun and a kind-looking face. 

You didn’t miss the subtle wink the raven-haired woman beside him gave you. Sending a sweet smile towards your Mother, the Queen of Eternity, you turned your attention to the two other presence in the banquet hall. 

Yeonjun turned towards them. “Greetings to the Queen of Mist, and Prince Hongjoong. May peace be ever in your grace.”

You froze slightly at the name, but quickly recovered when Yeonjun gently tickled your side, telling you to bow. When you straightened back up again, your eyes met a pair of golden slits. Kim Hongjoong gave you a soft smile, but you quickly looked away, your heart pounding.

Kim Hongjoong, the Prince of Mist. The one who the original Y/n had fallen in love with, and lost both her life and her kingdom to. When you played as Jiwon, Hongjoong seemed to be a normal, sweet Prince who was loyal and polite to her even if she was a commoner. However, when you played as Y/n, he was evil, nasty and horrifying. 

The Queen of Mist inclined her head slightly. “Greetings to the Sun, Moon, Eclipse and Star of Eternity. May peace be ever in your grace.” She turned to look at Hongjoong, who too bowed, echoing the greetings. When he was done, you grabbed onto Yeonjun’s sleeve, hiding your face in it. 

“Seems like the Star is a little shy, Mira.” Mira is your mother’s maiden name. Yeonjun patted your hair consolingly as your mother laughed. “Oh, Ayang. She'll recognize you soon, you even carried her as a baby.” 

The Queen of Mist and your mother seemed to know each other, seeing that they were addressing each other by a first-name basis. You peeked out from behind Yeonjun, avoiding Hongjoong’s gaze as you looked towards the Queen of Mist. She chuckled at your cute reaction, beckoning you. “Come here, little Star, let Auntie have a good look at you.”

“It’s not fair!” Beomgyu burst out dramatically. “You always favored Y/n, Auntie Ayang!” 

You blinked, confused at the turns of events. What is happening? Didn’t Beomgyu and Soobin say that they are important guests? And why is your Mother now walking towards the Queen of Mist, holding her hand as she speaks?

“Here.” Yeonjun pushed you out from his side gently. “Go say hi.” You carefully took a few steps forwards, still refusing to look at Hongjoong as you grip your dress tightly. “Y-your Majesty…”

“It’s Auntie Ayang for you, my little Y/n.” The woman bent down slightly while your Mother stood next to her, smiling. “I am your Mother’s best friend, little Star. This is a family event, we can be casual with each other.”

Your heart thumped loudly at this piece of information. So Y/n and Hongjoong had already known each other before Y/n went to the Kingdom of Mist for… For what?

Why.. Why can’t you remember?

“Now, shall the dinner start?” Your Father’s voice pulled you out of reality. You blinked rapidly, and quickly followed Yeonjun as everyone settled down on one table. Unfortunately for you, Hongjoong took the seat next to you. 

“Hello, Y/n. I’m Hongjoong.” Hongjoong introduced himself in a small, shy voice, his golden, snake-like eyes upon you. “I hope we’ll be good friends with each other.”

You stared at him, your brows furrowing unconsciously. Then you blurted out, “I don’t want to.”

“Don’t want to do what, Y/n?” Yeonjun didn’t catch the whole conversation and had fetched a napkin for you. You frowned at Hongjoong, your lips forming into an adorable pout. 

“I don’t want to be friends with Kim Hongjoong.”

previous // next

➳ series taglist: @tenebrisirae @mayonnaise-on-toast @lavishloving @hrts4hanniehae @sousydive @ddaeing @huachengsbestie01 @icouldntcareless22 @anxiousskylar @devilzliaison @saintriots

➳ pernament taglist (ateez): @watermelon2319 @levishun

➳ pernament taglist: @sousydive @yeodeulz @oddracha @jaerisdiction @yukichan67 @evidive @onysmamas

[campgender]

from In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado (2019)

In Dorothy Allison’s short story “Violence Against Women Begins at Home,” a group of lesbian friends gathers for a drink and they discuss a bit of community gossip: a pair of women recently broke into another woman’s house and trashed it, smashing glass and dishes and destroying her art, which they deemed pornographic. They spray-painted the story’s eponymous phrase on her wall. The friends debate police involvement and intragroup conflict mediation; but toward the end of the story, as they are parting ways, the problem crystallizes into a single, telling exchange:

“Look, do you think maybe we could hold a rent party for Jackie, get her some money to fix her place back up?”

Paula looks impatient and starts gathering up her stuff. “Oh, I don’t think we should do that. Not while they’re still in arbitration. And anyway, we have so many important things we have to raise money for this spring—community things.”

“Jackie’s a part of the community,” I hear myself say.

“Well, of course.” Paula stands up. “We all are.” The look she gives me makes me wonder if she really believes that, but she’s gone before I can say anything else.

Queer folks fail each other too. This seems like an obvious thing to say; it is not, for example, a surprise to nonwhite queers or trans queers that intracommunity loyalty goes only so far, especially when it must confront the hegemony of the state. But even within ostensibly parallel power dynamics, the desire to save face, to present a narrative of uniform morality, can defeat every other interest.

The queer community has long used the rhetoric of gender roles as a way of absolving queer women from responsibility for domestic abuse. Which is not to say that activists and academics didn’t try. When the conversation about queer domestic abuse took hold in the early 1980s, activists gave out fact sheets at conferences and festivals to dispel myths about queer abuse. [see footnote 45] Scholars distributed questionnaires to get a sense of the scope of the problem. [see footnote 46] Fierce debates were waged in the pages of queer periodicals.

But some lesbians tried to restrict the definition of abuse to men’s actions. Butches might abuse their femmes, but only because of their adopted masculinity. Abusers were using “male privilege.” (To borrow lesbian critic Andrea Long Chu’s phrase, they were guilty of “[smuggling patriarchy] into lesbian utopia.”) Some argued that consensual S&M was part of the problem. Women who were women did not abuse their girlfriends; proper lesbians would never do such a thing. [see footnote 47] There was also the narrative that it was, simply, complicated. The burden of the pressure of straight society! Lesbians abuse each other!

Many people argued that the issue needed to be handled within their own communities. Ink was spilled in the service of decentering victims, and abusers often operated with impunity. In an early lesbian domestic abuse trial, a lawyer noted the odd and unsettling detail that most of the time the jury spent behind closed doors was—contrary to what she’d been worried about—the straight jurors attempting to convince the jury’s sole lesbian member of the defendant’s guilt. When she was later questioned, the lesbian juror told the lawyer that she hadn’t “wanted to convict a [queer] sister,” as though the abused girlfriend was not herself a fellow queer woman.

Around and around they went, circling essential truths that no one wanted to look at directly, as if they were the sun: Women could abuse other women. Women have abused other women. And queers needed to take this issue seriously, because no one else would.

footnote 45: Among the myths tackled by the Santa Cruz Women’s Self Defense Teaching Cooperative: “Myth: It’s only emotional/psychological, so that doesn’t count.” “Myth: I can handle it—unlike her last three lovers.” “Myth: Staying together and working it out is most important.” “Myth: We’re in therapy, so it’ll get fixed now.”

footnote 46: Actual questionnaire language by researcher Alice J. McKinzie: “Is your abuser present at this festival? If your abuser is at this festival, is she present while you are filling this out? If your abuser is not present while you are filling this out, is she aware that you are filling out this questionnaire? If you answered NO to the question above … do you plan to tell her later?”

footnote 47: This No True Scotsman fallacy could bend these narratives in every direction conceivable; create a kind of moving goalpost that permitted an endless warping of accountability. In a firsthand account of her abuse in Gay Community News in 1988, a survivor wrote: “I had been around lesbians since I was a teenager, and although some of them had troubled relationships, I was unaware of any battering. I attached myself to the comforting myth that lesbians don’t batter. Much later, when I was ‘out’ enough to go to gay bars in a town that was liberal enough to tolerate them, I saw that some lesbians did indeed batter. However, I thought they were all of a type—drunks, sexist butches or apolitical lesbians—so I decided that feminist lesbians don’t batter.” Activist Ann Russo put it more succinctly in her book Taking Back Our Lives: “I had found it hard to name abuse in lesbian relationships as a political issue with structural roots.”

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: 𝕌𝕟𝕚𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞

🥀Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact 

🥀Au: royal, navy, space, sci-fi

🥀Trope: role reversal

🥀Summary: When your first mate successfully enacts a mutiny, you're left with one simple task... to be his cum bucket

🥀Kinks: uniform kink, oral (m), masturbation (f), degradation kink, mean dom! seonghwa, brat sub! reader, spitting, deep throating, choking, thigh slapping, creampie(s), overstim, marking, fingering(f)

🥀Word Count: 1,541

🥀Betas: @mejuii

🥀Day Twelve: Mommy Kink 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Fourteen: threesome/ritual

Seonghwa strode into the Captain's Quarters, his heels clacking purposely against the polished-with-wear metal. He tossed a long strand of hair out of his face, eyes looking for you. He stood in all his powerful glory before you in the bed. The leather of his outfit creaked despite the gold embroidery. He was clad in such from the tops of his shoulders starting with his long jacket, the corset like adornment along his ribcage, the straps that held the sheath for his sword and guns, and finally the pants and boots, that left nothing to the imagination, to be honest.

You were where he left you, naked and in bed. You had only the stark white sheet hiding your bare skin, but even that seemed to irk the man that used to be your first mate.

The U.S.S Utopia had been your ship, and you, its Captain. You had sailed her all along the Milky Way, plundering and stealing, after the American government fell to the people during a coup d'état. Then Seonghwa, with an evil grin, had convinced the crew to mutiny against you. You loved the Utopia and had pleaded that you would do anything to remain on board and not get plunged into the freezing depths of the dark sea, aka space. Seonghwa gave you one choice: remain as a useful tool, as a cum bucket for him, and he would allow you to stay. You agreed immediately and had remained so for several months now. And he had not tired of you yet.

The now-captain ripped his sheets off your body, eyes searching still for the dried cum on your skin. He seemed enamored with leaving his mark on you, in more ways than one.

“Lover,” he said in a sing-song voice, clueing you in that he was in a cruel mood. “I told you to remain here, in my bed, with my cum on you.”

“I did, Seonghwa!” You insisted.

Seonghwa waved a gloved hand in your vague direction. “I see nothing.”

“I was cold!” You insisted, trying not to look eager. “Perhaps the sheet brushed it off!”

You had washed his cum from your body as soon as he had left the room. You wanted him to come back and punish you. You looked forward to it, in fact.

Seonghwa sighed heavily, undoing his pants. “I don’t know how you ever were in charge of this ship. I’ll just have to repeat my handiwork and then some.”

There was some type of cruel kink for enjoying Seonghwa fucking you in an almost carbon copy of your captain’s outfit made to fit him. You loved the feel of the leather against your bare skin. There was something dirty and cheap about the way that Seonghwa couldn't be bothered to disrobe while he fucked you. You were addicted to being used by your past first mate; you simply could not get enough of it.

“Suck me off,” He said lowly after he had undone his pants just enough for his cock to be pulled out.

You took his soft cock and pulled him into your mouth. You stared up at the cruel captain with wide, eager eyes. You knew everything that he loved--and exactly what set him off. Your tongue curled around his head as blood rushed to his cock, and then he commanded you to touch yourself. You made loud noises of pleasure as you rubbed a finger against your clit and his cock grew in length even faster. Soon you were able to bob up and down him, hollowing your cheeks so that he could feel all of you.

Simply put, Seonghwa just wished to order you around. You had spent most of your career belittling him and his self-worth. So now that he was captain, he took every chance to return the favor. It never made him feel less than the whimpering second in command he always saw himself as, but still he pushed forward.

Seonghwa’s fingers floated over your head, a pretend-softness before he grabbed your hair harshly. When he pulled you off his cock, you kept your tongue out of your mouth and he spit onto it. Then he shoved you back on his cock, practically face fucking you. He wanted to see those tears form in your eyes and hear the chokes as you barely managed his length in your mouth and down your throat.

“You love sucking my cock, don’t you, you pathetic whore,” Seonghwa spat. “Always eager to have a dick in any hole you can get.”

Case and point, you pushed a finger inside of yourself, moaning loudly. That made anger burn in Seonghwa’s dark eyes. “I didn’t say to fill yourself, did I?”

Seonghwa pulled you off his length again, and you began to protest. “Seonghwa!”

“That’s Captain to you!” He snarled, and your mouth snapped shut.

He began to pace in front of the bed, brewing up a plot. How did he want you now? How did he want to cover you with his cum? There were so many options but he knew he needed to walk the ship again later, to keep an eye on his crew that had been so easily swayed to mutiny against you.

“Captain, please,” you begged. “I’ve been good.”

“Puh-lease, you don’t know the meaning of good,” Seonghwa spat his words. He pulled at his corset, and you saw your way in.

“Doesn’t fit you as well, does it, Seonghwa? Too snug at your ribcage or too small for your waist?”

“I wear this outfit better than you ever did,” Seonghwa roared, eyes like coals in his head.

Seonghwa made you ride his cock while he laid down on his bed, fully clothed of course; made you stare at him in your old captain’s outfit tailored to fit his body. He commanded you to speak of how he is a better captain than you and if you were interrupted by a sharp thrust of his upwards, you got a slap on your thigh with his leather glove. And when he came inside you, he held you down on his cock, a cry leaving his plush lips. Only once all of his cum had been pumped in you, did he allow you to raise yourself up, watching as his cum clung to his cock and poured out your cunt.

But that wasn't enough for Seonghwa, oh no, he wanted more.

He painted your body with bruises and cum, never tiring of abusing your body and seeing the stars light up in your eyes as he did. Because make no mistake, he was well aware that you loved to provoke him and what followed. But he was too drunk on his power, too drunk on you, to stop himself from giving you exactly what you wanted.

Seonghwa fucked you against the headboard, gloved hands wrapped around your throat, chest peeking above the corset, looking like a debauched pirate captain that ever sailed the Milky Way. His evil grin was apparent, eyes traveling all over your face as you made choked noises.

He released your throat, but you only whined, moving his hands back. “Please, Seonghwa, more,” you said with a raspy voice.

“Such a slut for me, aren't you, lover?” Seonghwa grinned in triumph.

“Yes, Captain,” You agreed, rocking your hips eagerly forward.

Seonghwa squeezed his hands around your throat again. He gauged by your face how close you were to your climax, and when he let sweet air invade your lungs again, you came so hard for him that your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

You were drowning in pleasure and still, you groaned about him making a further mess of your pussy. Seonghwa looked you straight in the eyes and fucked you through your orgasm. He drank in every scrunch of your nose and whine about it being too much (it was everything you wanted), until he came inside of you again. You both felt his cum slip out of your hole as he fucked your cunt, following his pleasure. There simply wasn’t enough room for all his cum and yet still he continued to unload into you.

“You exist to be my cum bucket, lover, and don’t you forget it,” Seonghwa whispered into your ear.

Later, when you were passed out in his bed and only the lights of the stars left to reveal all the ways you belonged to him, Seonghwa admired his handiwork. His cum was all over your body, marks of his teeth and hands painted on your skin. And still it wasn't enough. You had screamed his name hoarse, sounding bittersweet from your lips, red after the blowjobs and biting. But it never erased your jeering face of old from his memory.

So he pushed his hands between your legs and patted your cunt. Your body jolted and you groaned as you woke up. Seonghwa's lithe fingers played with your pussy, still wet with desire and his seed. And after everything he put you through, you reached between your legs and pressed his fingers further into your body.

Seonghwa smiled, the first one of pure glee rather than cruelty. You were programmed to be greedy for him, and that was enough.

🥀Day Twelve: Mommy Kink 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Fourteen: threesome/ritual

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

VERONA- L. HOWLETT

pairing: boyfriend!logan x fem!reader

summary: you and logan are eachothers safe space, and you indulge in the comforts of eachothers arms during a storm:)

warnings: petnames and weed smoking, thats it thats all!

word count- 700 (self indulgent fluff session for my own wellbeing)

"the party’s over and you tell everybody to leave/ you leave the windows open/ let the summer wind wash over me.... when you’re in my body/ feel you deep inside me every night/ i'm coming up empty/ tryna' find the words to describe you right/ here in my verona..."- ethel cain, verona (demo, unreleased)

i had to write this because i need to be cuddled and comforted by logan and im just so in love with ethel cain and everything she creates. i recomend listening to the song (only if u want, i love listening to music when i read) to get a sense of the vibe... or to create ur own

You could hear the tiniest little creak of the old wooden floors downstairs as you lay in bed.

A low murmur, before a door shut, lock clicking firmly. Your fingers curled, digging deep into the cotton sheets.

They were cool and crisp, the wind slithering in from the opened window to let the smoke out, and the fog in.

You had invited some friends over for the afternoon, everyone cozying up in your little cottage farmhouse to watch some movies during the storm, and to light a few up.

Your boyfriend, Logan, hadn’t left your side, sitting you between his parted legs, large body taking up the entire couch as he let your upper half lay on his chest, while he stroked your hair.

A few hours had passed, the storm sputtering to a steady drizzle, as you grew sleepy on the couch, consciousness fading in and out, pulling you under like a wave.

That was when Logan had decided to call it for the evening, carrying you upstairs to your shared bedroom, sending everyone on their way.

His heavy steps creaked below you, and you heard him walk over to the windows, shutting them firmly.

You always wanted them open, just a smidge for the cool air. Tonight was no exception, and you turned your head to the soothing sound of the rain smacking the window pane, followed by Logan's steps up the stairs.

“D’you want these blown out princess?” he asked as he stepped inside, almost having to crouch under the door frame to fit through it.

Old farmhouses were not meant for massive giants like him, but he refused to change anything that didn't need to be fixed from a safety aspect, because he knew how much the old charm pleased you.

He nodded to the few candles that were flickering on the dresser, the wax slowly trickling down the tall sticks, plopping down next to Logan's box of cigars and the fresh baby's breath he had picked for you.

“S’okay, no thank you Lo. Are you staying awake?”

He smiled softly, sliding off his plaid flannel before sliding himself next to you on the bed, it creaking under his weight. “Course I’m staying awake. Who would protect you from the monsters in the attic?”

“Don't you dare say that!” you huffed, curling into his side, his chuckles vibrating your whole body as his arms wrapped around you, engulfing you in their warmth.

The hard muscle was like a cushion for you, and you clung to him, breathing in the smell of him- tobacco and pine. You stayed in his arms, listening to the rain fall as he stroked your hair, giving you the odd murmur of reassurance and kisses to the top of your head.

It was like your Verona.

A sweet, angelic utopia the two of you formed together in this little bedroom, when it was quiet, just the sync of your breaths, nothing but eager, soft touches. It was one of the only times you found true peace, was with him.

When he made you feel protected, and cherished, and loved.

Something you had been eager to find your entire life, something that had only recently emerged two years ago- when you had found him.

Moreso, when he found you.

Now you were here, in his arms, listening to his sweet praises as you dozed.

Such a sleepy girl. You did so good today princess, my lil baby having all those people over. You did such a good job. You’re so lovable, you know that bub? My sweet sweet lil girl.

You mumbled gibberish, trying to form words that sounded close to “Love you s’much”, but nothing was able to get past your lips. He watched the candles flicker, the dainty, white lace curtains swaying with the breeze as you slept.

All he could think was how lucky he was to have you, to take care of.

All he ever wanted was someone he could pour his affections onto, and not only did you receive it with touch starved, opened arms- but you gave it back just as much.

He reached over to the side table, palming a Shakespeare book you had left dog eared and tea stained to read.

And yet as he got lost in the play, all he could think of was how Romeo and Juliet had nothing, nothing compared to your guy’s Verona.

[doodle-pops]

Bet On It

Elrohir x reader

Request: Elrohir, id love a friend's to lovers trope fic. reader can be also arwen or glorfindel's friend and they keep telling both them and elrohir to fucking confess to eachother but they refuse to because of the classic "I don't want to ruin our friendship,I can't lose them." They think they're subtle with pinning after one another but like everyone can tell they're in love. Casual physical affection, spending way too much time with eachother, "subtle" acts of service, etc. Idiots in love literally. One of them end up confessing after like a sweet moment, just a quiet whisper or a small kiss but it's enough for the other to finally confess too. Just a super fluff moment of them finally freely loving one another! - Anon

Warnings: fluff, mutual pinning, friends to lovers, confession, kissing

Words: 1.9k

Synopsis: You and Elrohir muster the courage to break old ties while recreating new ones as you begin a future together.

Walking up the familiar winding pathway that to the private getaway pavilion at the top, your feet softly padded against the steps until you made three raps to the wooden pillar. Somewhere, you heard the noticeable airy thuds of Elrohir’s feet coming your way eagerly, easily hiding a bag of jittery nerves. Casually the makeshift curtain drew back and revealed his evening radiance, attired in light blues and greys, a single braid to the right and his ebony hair loosely cascading down his back. Such was the simplicity of your dear friend, whom you cherished more than anything else in the world.

Through the momentary welcoming, your eyes dropped from his face to meet his chest, too fearful of giving away too many emotions already. Memories of Lady Arwen’s conversation replayed in your head about making a move otherwise it would be a great loss on your behalf, not before reminding you of her brother’s whereabouts.

Heart beating rapidly in your throat, you curled your toes against your sandals and exhaled. “Elrohir.”

“Y/N,” he greeted just as breathlessly as you. “Please come in. It is a wonderful surprise to have you visit.”

Gingerly you brushed past his shoulders, head dipping and eye falling to the floor as you entered his space. It was, and still is a haven of comfort and peace of mind for you when the world was hard on your shoulders. Now, it felt foreign with the looming messages of what you had planned to execute tonight…hopefully. Taking your time to observe the interior, not much had changed since your last visit, and nor had he finished the upturned book lying haphazardly on his bed.

“You still haven’t finished the Utopia Trilogy?” you laughed as you walked over and flipped the book over, scanning the page. “I thought you were a master at reading.”

Unbeknownst to you, your choice of conversational starter was an ice breaker for Elrohir, for even he was skittish and unsure of how to approach. Thankfully, luck was in the air.

Giving a lazy scratch to the back of his head, he made a guttural sound, almost like a deep whine and stomped over to pry the book gently out of your hands. Placing it back on the shelf, he spun around to purse his lips. “What did I tell you about judging my reading abilities? One does not rush a book, but timelessly enjoy it.”

“If timeless enjoying it means over a year, then by all means, continue,” you snickered and plopped onto his bed, shuffling your sandals off and making yourself comfortable. As easily as the conversation started, the rest flowed once Elrohir noticed the tension dissipating. Following suit, he climbed on the bed, sitting at the foot with his legs crossed and hands in his lap.

His honey-brown eyes flickered from the rumpled bed sheets to your feet to your face and then back at the sheets. “So,” he began quietly, “it���s been a while since we last spoke. How have you been?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Nothing new with me. Just wandering Imladris like a ghost, visiting the gardens and robbing all the local merchants,” you shrugged, your fingers idly found themselves tracing the mahogany armrest of the chair beside the bed. You were desperately fighting to keep your tone light. “And you? Last I heard, you all went as far as Forodwaith?”

Elrohir nodded with a tight-lip smile as he rocked back and forth. “Sort of. We met with the Dúnedain on the way and hunted some orcs all the way to the borders before turning back to come home—didn’t want to be away for too long. I tend to miss all my favourite people back home,” he explained, leading to you feeling a flush of warmth from his words, your heart beating a little faster prompting you to lift your head and lock eyes with him in the instant. A silent understanding passed between you two, then, with a small almost shy smile, he reached out and gently touched the back of your hand. “I’ve missed our conversations.”

You felt a shiver run through you at the contact, his touch sending a wave of warmth through your body. Wanting to duck your head or cover your face, you mustered the courage to withhold eye contact. “It’s good to be here,” you murmured lightly.

“It’s good to have you here,” he corrected.

For a while, the two of you engaged in effortless conversations, your body language morphing from tense to relaxed as your bodies shifted about the bed, slowly getting closer and closer. Discussing a myriad of topics that ranged from his adventures with his brothers and others to his daily duties and past, you covered the profound to the mundane. Topics of books, to your imagination, tales of old, uncharted dreams and future adventures beyond the lands of Middle Earth were thrown around gracefully and turned the evening into nightfall easily. The fullness of the moon rose from behind the clouds, shining glittering strands of light upon you both through the vine-covered canopy, aiding with the ambience.

Throughout your dialoguing, subtle gestures conveyed what words could not. Elrohir’s hand would brush lightly against yours as he passed you a cup of tea, a simple act imbued with unspoken affection. Your fingers would linger on his arm, savouring the warmth and closeness as you shared a moment of laughter over a shared memory. Each touch, though fleeting was charged with meaning, speaking of a connection that ran deeper than a mere friendship. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, a dance of intimacy and restraint, each gesture a silent confession of feelings that lay just beneath the surface.

As the evening wore on, the moon dipping behind a cloud and hiding its light, a comfortable silence settles between you. Elrohir glanced at you, his expression contemplative. “Do you ever think about the future?” he asked suddenly.

You couldn’t resist looking at him surprised by the question. “Sometimes,” you admitted. “What brought this on, may I ask?”

He hesitated, his left shoulder bumping against your knees as he looked up from his lying position. The proximity was enough for you to catch a whiff of the mint of his tongue. “I was on a ride this morning with Lord Glorfindel, and he left me questioning myself and other things with his…choice of word,” he breathed and reached out to hold your hand and give it a small swing. “I just wondered what the future would hold for us. You and I, specifically.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the implication of them making your breath catch. Furthermore, the fiddling of his hand with yours increased your heart rate, leaving you occasionally needing to inhale.

The tension that was in the air now, a charged energy which made the room feel smaller and more intimate was sluggishly bringing your heads closer. Elrohir looked up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. With bated breath, his voice dipped as his fingers intertwined with the hand he was playing with. “There is something I need to tell you, and I hope it doesn’t push you away or ruin things between us,” he said earnestly. “I care about you…more than a friend. I have for a long time.”

You stared at him for a long while, your heart pounding like a thunderous stampede of wild beasts. Lady Arwen’s words and teasing replayed in your mind as she told you about her brother crushing you for a long time. It was hard to see when all you saw was friendship and didn’t want to ruin the good you had. Opening your mouth to respond, no sound exited, so you closed it and remained breathless while he nervously held your hand, his thumb soothingly stroking the back of your hand repeatedly. His touch sent shivers down your spine. “I know it might come as a surprise, but I can’t keep it to myself any longer. I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship.”

His confession hung in the air between you, the declaration that seemed to make time stand still. For a moment, you could only bashfully stare at him, the enormity of his words setting over you like a warm embrace. You didn’t know how to explain the urge that came over you when you licked your lips and darted your eyes to his, something he noticed and apprehensively craned his neck upwards to bridge the gap, his eyes closing briefly as if to savour the upcoming moment. In return, you closed your eyes when you felt his other hand slide around your neck to cup your nape and pull you closer.

With deliberate anticipation, Elrohir took his time to bridge the gap until his very own teasing antagonised him, forcing him to exhale before his lips collided with yours. A muffled groan from him turned into a grunt when he felt your hands reach out to cradle his neck, fingers scraping against his scalp leaving him shivering. Elrohir felt greedy in the moment as the first continued; years of silently loving you came pouring out in waves of passion and tenderness.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other, the world around you seeming to shimmer with newfound brightness. Elrohir’s eyes were soft, filled with a deep, abiding tenderness. “I can’t believe I was a fool for not believing Lord Glorfindel’s words at first,” he muttered, shaking his head with a smile. “I thought you wouldn’t feel the same because we’re just friends.”

“That makes to both of us,” you softly laughed. “I too didn’t believe your sister, but when she told me that both she and Elladan were betting on it, I had to do something about it.”

“Wait,” he cautioned as he sat upright, “my siblings conspired through betting. Come to think of it, Glorfindel did mention something about not wanting to lose a bet…of course.”

Sliding your hand off his neck to return to cradling his hands and playing with his fingers, rocked back and forth due to the overwhelming excitement in your chest. Finally, all your emotions came pouring out and the doubt you both feared was proven wrong. Roaming your eyes over his face, you leaned in, catching him off-guard, to kiss his lips once more, loving the sensation of his soft lips on yours. Fortunately, Elrohir did not mind the distraction you provided, reducing his plotting to deal with his siblings to focus on you before him.

“I’m glad I took the leap of faith and told you my heart,” he whispered through the kiss, cradling your cheeks and leaning in for another.

The two of you sat there for a while, simply holding each other, basking in the warmth of your newfound happiness. Eventually, as the night wore on, you found yourself lying side by side on his bed with his arms wrapped protectively, yet lovingly around you as your conversation about the future returned in delight. There was a sense of peace, a feeling that everything was right with the world now that you had finally confessed your love. All the weight was off your shoulders and replaced with bliss.

“I never want to be apart from you,” he said. “I want to spend every moment with you, to share my life with you.”

Your heart swelled as you looked up at him, your eyes softening. “I would like that as well.”

Leaning in, pleased at your response, his nose bumped against yours as he pecked your lips. “I can’t wait for our future together.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings

[bullet-prooflove]

Good Morning: Michael 'Riz' Ariza x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life@danzer8705@mysoulisasunflower@msjava1972@adaydreamaway08

It’s late in the morning when you wake up, you reach out across the sheets your hand coming to rest on the empty space beside you. It’s cold to the touch, Riz had been up at least a couple of hours. He’s left you to sleep in late after your gig last night. There’s been a lot more of them since that video went viral. You stick to small, intimate venues, the kind of places you can connect with the audience.

It’s the scent of fresh coffee that leads you to the kitchen, the French press is already filled and ready to decant. The back door is open, a warm breeze flowing through the room as you pad through it wearing nothing but one of Riz’s t-shirts. You decant the coffee into two mugs before stepping outside onto your back porch.

It's the view that always strikes you, cloudless blue sky, the mountains silhouetted in the faraway distance across the desert landscape. Riz had selected the perfect place to build a home for the two of you. The warm, natural pond close by, the stunning scenery. He’s created a place surrounded by your fondest memories, a utopia of peace and beauty.

He’s chopping wood when you step outside, his hair tied back into a tiny bun. He’s gained a few grey hairs since you’ve met, he jokes that it’s due to keeping up with you. He’s wearing weathered Levi’s with a blue flannel shirt that’s thrown over a navy V-neck. You watch appreciatively as he swings the axe, splintering the wood.

You don’t know what it is about seeing him like this, but it does something to you…

He knows it too; you can see it in the way he smiles when he looks up at you. Christ, that smile lights up your entire world. He sets the axe against the tree stump before pulling off his gloves and tossing them on top of it. He takes the mug of coffee from your hand before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips, it’s heated and tender, sending a rush of exhilaration all the way down to your core.

“Good morning.” He murmurs, his body pressing along the length of yours as he cages you in against the door frame.

“Hm, it is.” You smile, giving him that look.

“Oh Songbird,” he murmurs, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek. “Did I not give my girl enough last night?”

It had been too hurried, a quick encounter in the bathroom of the bar you played a gig in. You’d been wearing that black silk dress, high off the adrenaline of performing, your eyes had been bright, skin flushed. He’d fucked you on the vanity, his jeans shoved down past his hips, the silk brushing across his thighs as he kissed you into oblivion.

“I could always do with a little more.” You whisper as his fingertips tease along the buttons of the shirt, undoing them one by one.

“You’re insatiable.” He teases before tilting his head towards the interior of the house. “Let me take you back to bed, give you the wake up call you should have had.”

Riz takes his time with you. It’s soft and playful, little nips across your skin, teasing kisses, gentle caresses. His fingertips chase over your bare flesh, mapping out all those deviant little places that make you say his name. He smiles as he enters you, filling you slowly before he withdraws and starts all over again. He doesn’t believe in edging, it’s not your dynamic, he gives his girl what she needs, when she needs it. He would never deny you anything.

Your relationship has always been about intimacy, about being connected. When Riz looks into your eyes he sees his entire world, his entire reason for being. When you come, you take him with you. He groans your name into the hollow of your throat as he spills his release inside you.

“God, I can’t get enough of you.” He murmurs, his palms ghosting along the curve of your spine as he looks up at you.

“You say that everytime.” You laugh, your head tipping back as he leaves a trail of heated kisses along the line of your jaw.  

“I mean it.” He says, guiding your mouth back to his. “I always mean it.”

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