#4 hrs on and off finally done

[herbalinz-of-yesteryear]

A study of Leyendecker’s Arrow Collar Man. I think I’ll call it “Breaking of Dawn” or “Crime Daddy’s First Portrait” or something 😂

Painted most parts in greyscale first, played around colors with curve tool and repainted using new colors, erased clothes and pendant (some bits of gold can be seen at collar converging point i kinda love that so keeping it), overlayed rough paper texture (brush) on top. Learned a lot. Need to do more.

Below the cut for variant backgrounds

#darth maul #you can see where i gave up and where i spent more time on lol #4 hrs on and off finally done #i want to do consolation with him and talzin #warming up to do better (๑•ω•́)و✧ #maul #star wars #maul fanart #darth maul fanart #star wars fanart #j c leyendecker #master study #artists on tumblr #digital illustration #digital art #art #maybe is not portrait maybe some underling snagged a photo of him while on briefing #they will be most severely reprimanded probably #but maybe maul is secretly glowing inside like the wet cat he is 😆

[starfxkr]

Have you ever done size predictions? Sorry for asking if you have xx

my time...has finally come I literally thought about this my entire 4 hr drive. in no particular order

jj: uncut king! he's uncircumcised ill die on that hill. he's more long than thick but he's got some nice heft to him believe that. his tip is a pretty pink shade, kinda thick and super fuckin sensitive, one touch and it's twitchin and leakin all over the place. always kinda clammy so it sticks to your back when ya'll are sleep and he definitely doesnt shave. its like 1976 down there. also always smells musky even when he's showered he doesnt stink he just kinda always smells like himself? cums wayyyy too much and sometimes cums really fast but thats okay because hes back up in like 2 mins and that means hes gonna put you through the mattress. baby boys cum is rancid tho please give him some water and green veggies.

john b: his dick is thick and heavy, it actually takes a bit of prep to fit him in. curves downward a bit so he very much likes sitting you in his lap because he knows it's gonna hit all the right spots. doesn't shave but he trims the hair so its not unruly because it grows in very curly.. def as tan as the rest of him but his tip is kinda mauveish and flushes darker when he's really hard. when he cums its like a slow spill but its a lot when he's horny and he gets pretty sensitive. also always kinda smells like himself even when he's just showered there's a comfy earthiness to him. cums kinda salty but not unpleasant.

pope: he's got a huge dick but is very modest about it like...you wouldn't know he's got a monster in is pants. constantly adjusting because it sticks to his thigh. absolutely trims his hair but doesnt get rid of it all he finds that weird. his dick curves up and it's just so pretty? his balls don't hang super low but they're kinda heavy tbh. brown tip for sure and he leaks a lot of precum when hes horny. has really sensitive balls and likes getting them played with. his cum doesnt have much of a taste and he always smells like a really fresh soap its so comforting.

rafe: daddy long dick has landed in obx bc he's obnoxious about it. everything about his dick is nice and pristine he maintains thickness down his whole shaft but his tip is thick and you need some prep. also gets a very angry red when turned on. shaves everything off because thinks it looks nicer that way. it stands straight up when he's standing and flops against his stomach when laying down. cum always tastes good which is a bonus bc there's always a lot of it. normally smells like clean skin and soap but if you're lucky you can smell his natural scent if he lets you have at him after working out.

#✨.txt #jj maybank prompt #rafe cameron prompt #john b prompt #pope heyward prompt

[natriae]

Chapter 4: He's a good man.

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masterlist

“y/n could you please sit down,” Kuroo asked politely. He motioned to the empty seat in between Atsumu and Suna. Atsumu had already sat down, bouncing his right leg. He totally knew what was going on. To your right Suna couldn't even look at you. His eyes bore into the corner of Foster's desk where a picture of his daughters was placed. Suna's slender fingers lightly tapped his chair's arm rest. He knew too.

Looking back towards Kuroo you couldn't help but ask, "Kuroo-san what is this about?". Your voice held no anger or fear. Genuine confusion was painted on your face and even flowed through your voice. However, your heartbeat was becoming more erratic by the second.

"Well y/n," Kuroo began, his voice did not sound the same as it normally did when he spoke to you. His voice was modulated, the way he spoke to new coworkers and ones he just about had enough of. "You see, this morning I had to clean up your mess. One that I really didn't expect from you miss l/n," this cannot be happening, "There were some photos we were able to clean off the internet of Miya Atsumu leaving your apartment, and then another with Suna's arm around you entering said apartment. However, we still don't know if there's more. Your badge could be seen as well. Anyone who did see the photo knows you work here, and it's not good for us. You of all people should know." Once he finishes he begins opening all three HR folders. He folds a familiar packet, and hands it over to each one of you. "These packets that each of you signed when you got your job were created by the JVA. The rules and standards we expect from you. As you can see at the bottom of the page each of you signed that you would not breach the contract…" He pauses for a moment with his arms crossed over his chest. Making him feel leagues above you guys. Make you feel like a child getting scolded by her father, "Miss l/n would you please read clause five for us," He commanded, the please making no difference.

Attempting to swallow the lump in your throat your eyes scanned the page landing on clause five. You could cite this clause by heart now. You swallowed again and opened your mouth to speak, however your voice came out strained and unsteady, "Under no circumstances should a relationship between Athletes and JVA employees exceed the standard; coworker to coworker." finishing you look back up to the tall man behind the desk.

"Now read the fine print below it." He commands once more.

Looking back down you speak, "No living with one another,"

"broken," Kuroo's voice rang.

"May not go to each other's place of living,"

"broken," The deep voice stated again. A tear fell onto the white paper in between your hands.

Before you could continue reading Suna's voice finally broke his silence, "Kuroo-san this is-"

"Suna be quiet. l/n continue."

"may not-" your voice uninvolvarly faded out, " may not sneak behind the backs of their bosses. If any employee is caught breaking this clause it will be resolved with immediate termination," By now your leg began bouncing like Atsumu and your anger was rising up. This is not your fault. Why won't they say anything? No matter how hard you tried you could not look back up at Kuroo's face. If you did your mask would fall and everyone would be able to see the broken person inside.

"l/n, I'm sorry to say this but we have to let you go. Please go pack your things." Once Kuroo was done talking the room remained silent for a moment. When you stood up to hand the packet back Kuroo began speaking once more. "As for you two, Miya and Suna, the coaches and I have decided that you two will not play in each of your opening matches," At this your jaw dropped and you looked up at Kuroo's face.

Not able to hold your anger any longer you broke, "I get fired and all they get is not playing in one stupid match!" you yelled at Kuroo. It didn't matter now what you said, you were fired. He wasn't your boss anymore. "you didn't even hear anyone out. Miya was only at my place because Suna invited him. I told him it wasn't a good idea, but he did it anyway," you turned your head around to the phone addicted man for backup but none came, "Suna come on tell him," Your once loud voice became hoarse and even a little whiny when suna did nothing but look away from you. You turned towards Atsumu for help, but he did the same thing.

"l/n please leave this office immediately," Kuroo gruffly answered. His face held no emotion or care for what was going on. He had to realize how unfair this was, right?

Turning around you excited the office with quiet tears dripping down your face. Bokuto saw your walk of shame and like any good person asked if you were okay. He must have been waiting. He knew as well what was gonna happen.

"y/n are you okay?" Bo asked with puppy dog eyes. You know this isn't his fault, but seeing anyone's face who was at all correlated made the tears fall faster. You brushed past him and walked faster to your office.

Entering, your body slammed the door shut and you fell to the floor. Finally being alone was enough for your body to just give out. What are you going to do? You can't go home, Suna will be there. If you go back to your family's house your parents will know you failed just as they expected. This was your dream job, and they took it away like that. And those stupid boys were able to keep theirs, because they won't be called a slut. They won't get rumors that they're sleeping around with staff because everyone loves them. Immediate termination my ass.

Standing back up and wiping your tears you click the lock on your door and begin organizing your things to be packed away. You noticed your laptop was still left open from your lunch. In the corner of the screen was a notification that you were tagged in a tweet.

Slamming your laptop shut you roughly place it into your bag knocking over a few trinkets that were on your desk. How could some people be that rude? You've seen the tweets before when anyone got caught up in a dating rumor, and you easily were able to get the rumors to an end, but now that it was you… how are you gonna stop this? How could Suna and Atsumu just sit there and do nothing?

Using your anger to power through you began slamming more things into your bag and boxes not caring if they were broken or damaged. You need to find a place to stay and fast. Through the crashes and thuds you were able to hear the soft knock that wrapped against your door.

"y/n let me in please!" you heard from the other side of the door. Turning around you look out the window to see all the boys on the court but one. "y/n please," the blond says, knocking a few more times.

Wiping your tears you reluctantly walk to the door knowing damn well he won't leave until he sees you. Twisting the knob you open the large door to see large watering brown eyes staring back at you. Not once have you seen Atsumu in a state like this. You hated to admit but there was a pang in your heart once your eyes landed on him.

"I knew…" he meekly let out, shaking his head and eyeing the floor. His hand pressed on the door to prevent you from closing it. "Bokuto.. he um- He sent me a text right before we were called in. I'm sorry." He continued, his apology falling on deaf ears. He didn't lose his job. "An-and I know yer mad. I stayed quiet," You opened your mouth to talk back but he raised his hand hoping you'd let him finish. "I was scared and fully convinced I would lose ma job as well, but I didn't and that's not fair. I know I seem like this stupid airhead, but I'm too aware, so I act stupid…and that's not an excuse. I understand if ya don't want to talk to me, but I'm gonna do everything I can for ya." He takes a deep breath before finally looking into your eyes again. You hadn't noticed before but now you can see the tears falling from his eyes. "Ma brother has an apartment above his shop. Ya can stay there. He'll make the rent cheaper too. He's a good man."

You hated to think this but you were thankful for him at that moment. Instead of getting all your anger out on him as you planned to, you responded with a small, "thank you," and shut the door.

When you had gone to your apartment a part of you expected to see Suna standing there waiting for you. Yet when you opened the door the apartment was silent. Just how you left it when you went to work this morning. It was easy to pack up your things even though the constant reminder that Suna could be back any second played in your thoughts. Now there was no trace of you left. You had giggled at the thought that this was like a break up. The last thing you wanted was to see Suna right now. He had broken your trust in several ways.

It's crazy how quickly your mind was able to end a relationship that felt like family, yet your heart felt like it was being chipped away. You know Suna's brain takes time to process information, and you shouldn't have been mad that he had drawn back from the situation as a whole, but as a friend you still wished he stood up for you, or at least spoke to you like Atsumu did.

Now here you are standing 20 minutes away from your old apartment preparing to speak to the mysterious Miya you assumed you'd never meet. Onigiri Miya. It does seem homey.

tip me!

taglist: OPEN!

@thisbicc @lovley212 @kyowdani @jacelikespp @bubblewordsofsodapop @peppersapro @kuroosluthoe @littlemochi @bai-wuxiangs-mask @anejuuuuoy

sorry for taking so long ive been super busy!!

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #atsumu x reader #atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu imagine #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu smut #atsumu fic #miya atsumu #osamu miya #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #hq imagines #hq headcanons #hq fanfic #hq smut #hq atsumu #hq #hq x reader

[mono-blogs-art]

incredible chaser game w moments (part 2) up to & incl. episode 4

the most homophobic breakup you've ever seen. just, unholy behavior. on fucking god itsuki i know you had good intentions but you're the worst for doing it like that !!!!!!!!! at least let her down easy !!!!! if i was 22 and my gf of 4 years did that to me i'd fucking go insane as well

the elevator stopped working ➡️ you are trapped in with the person you hate ➡️ you are forced to sit it out and face your fears together, ultimately bringing you closer both emotionally & physically. i love this trope and i didn't know i needed it here, but it was great. step 1 to the meowmeow-ification of fuyu complete

my prediction of itsuki running into & taking care of little tsuki and the two of them then being found by fuyu, resulting in an awkward and heartbreaking scene, came true exactly like that. i think this scene was genuinely so well done and well acted, it broke my heart. i think this was the scene that really got me to say Damn, I'm invested in this now...

^ I'm still waiting for Itsuki to bring up the similar names in conversation though. like you need to talk about that

"ohhh harumoto-san, so you're part of that team?" - itsuki (sweating in closeted lesbian): "huh? what? n-no, of course not- I'm--" - "Don't worry, it's all good, we're all into BL too!!!" ➡️falsely coming out as a yaoi fangirl to your coworkers to avoid having to talk about your own sexuality. LMAO

^ this scene only being a setup so fuyu can be homophobic on main is what makes it even funnier

why. in every gods name. would you go to your boss' home address. why on earth would you do that. at least itsuki was self-aware about it too. girl you are SO unwell

every time fuyu has kissed itsuki of her own initiative, it has been when she was drunk... can we remedy that for future episodes, please? not that consent has been an issue, their mutual feelings are obvious, but i think she should be making a move when she doesn't have any liquid courage in her. step up your fucking game, fuyu

"she's a classic tsundere, after all" - fuyu, who has been severly harassing her subordinates at work (again, there seems to be no HR department at this company) being written off as a "tsundere" by the rest of the team - I mean, you're not wrong, but you should still file a complaint against her.

fuyu's husband Kouu is the nicest man on earth. my man doesn't deserve ANY of this. he even calls her dongyu. he even calls his wife by her real fucking name like the bar is so low

fuyu treats him so badly too, man, i genuinely felt bad watching it. were the 5 years of marriage all like this? was he always just a means to you getting your revenge? i'm sick. i hope they can make up by the end of the show and have a real conversation about their feelings and relationship.

that aside, i do have some theories on kouu, his disappearance, and his own feelings as well, but i'm keeping that to myself atm...

fuyu & itsuki keep having insanely homoerotic moments in front of god and everyone on earth, I'm starting to believe the only person with a gaydar in this company is the photographer from the other office. the fact that you two haven't been found out yet is honestly a massive plot hole (lmao)

has itsuki eaten anything else but sweets (cake, in particular?) on screen yet? apart from the homemade meal at the hayashi's, whenever there's a scene of her alone or with her grandma, she's always eating cake. i wonder if it will come up at some point, but it's just something i noticed. no shade though girl i'm also (almost) 27 and if you wanna eat cake for dinner alone at home I'm your nr1 supporter

i'm never a fan of the trope of a bilingual character breaking out into their native tongue for swearing or just randomly, but it is fun that only fuyu does it and that all the other chinese characters just don't speak mandarin at all. and i'm happy they actually cast a bilingual actress for fuyu!

episode 4 was the mid-series finale, and it definitely showed. this was the best episode so far by a pretty significant margin imo.

the. silent pleading fuyu puts on to make itsuki stay at the hayashi house. the most fucking 🥺*twirling my hair cutely* AND IT WORKS TOO BECAUSE ITSUKI IS JUST AS INSANE AS YOU ARE

i would like to talk about the best scene of this show yet. i really wished it was longer and was given even more weight. in episode 4, fuyu & itsuki are sitting in the living room together at night, so far apart that they're completely out of each other's camera shots even. i found this to be the most interesting scene so far. there was genuine tension in the shot composition, the acting, the complete absence of music. just silence and their voices. "after all, it was all my fault, wasn't it? that we ended up like this?" fuyu still deep down believes that she was the reason their relationship failed. she wasn't enough, because she's fuyu, because she's a woman. she still thinks that. my heart fucking broke in two

their fight after fuyu came back home drunk was so funny. especially with their height difference... hydrogen bomb vs coughing baby

after finally learning the truth about their break-up, fuyu is absolutely devastated. "you valued your promise to my mother more than the one you made to me?" just completely broken. after all this time sitting with these unresolved emotions, feelings of guilt and deep shame, only for that to be the reason? I feel so bad for her

the mutual love confession!!!!! i'm honestly a bit surprised it came so early, i thought they were just going to sleep together and not talk emotions first. but i'm not gonna complain (i just love mess) i'm also devastated that itsuki used suki while fuyu used the word aishiteru. my friends it's so bad for me right now (and them)

did. they. fuck. on. the. floor. in. the. living room.

i hope so because 1) hot and 2) although i'm still unsure as to the exact room situation of the hayashi household, don't they all have one shared bedroom??? isn't the bedroom that they're in after they've had sex (hopefully in the living room) the same one we've previously seen, where the kid also sleeps????? WHERE WAS THE KID ITSUKI. WHERE. WAS. THE. KID. WE KNOW SHE'S WITH YOU BECAUSE THAT WAS THE WHOLE REASON YOU STARTED FIGHTING!!!!!

if you had sex while your kid was sleeping soundly in the same room i'm sending both of you to superhell. i'm praying you guys just have a totally identical bed in another room. please.

if it wasn't the same bed we've previously seen from tsuki's room, that means you guys fucked in the marriage bed, which is only slightly less gonna get you sent to superhell.

in any case, happy lesbian sex to them. i know neither of you have known the touch of a woman in the past 5 years so it was probably intense. drink a lot of water in episode 5, alright? jesus.

it was also quite funny that the scriptwriter for the show tweeted out a few hours before this episode aired that "itsuki has always taken the leader position in their relationship" and that "you should watch episode 4 with this in mind" and we were all like. oh so you're telling me that fuyu is a bottom? you're telling me water is wet? fork found in kitchen??????

their lil afterglow convo in bed was just perfectly sweet. 1 point to fuyu, now presumably much more sobered up, for having the courage to ask if itsuki's gonna stay the night after all. girl you don't have to ask. i think she's ready for another 12 rounds. she's not going anywhere.

the line delivery of the "alright" (i'm gonna stay) oh my god. oh my god... oh. oh.

the meowmeow-ification babygirl-ification of fuyu is now complete

in the preview for ep5, fuyu is wearing a mixture of white and black clothes. girl... it was that good, huh?????

in conclusion:

i had a lot of thoughts on this one and i've found great joy in going deep into the twt tags for it as well. and i'm glad to see many japanese sapphics also being super vocal about the show. it's really interesting to read and interact with that side of the fandom i haven't really seen in this capacity for a (lesbian) live action show yet. i see people slowing down & brightening up footage to analyse who's taking each other's clothes off first, people just posting close-ups of Yuuka's hands, people going into Yurika's past filmography to dig up ancient clips of other sapphic roles she's played (of which there seem to be actually quite a lot?). i love to see it lmao. on a more serious note, it makes me happy to see sapphics from so far away expressing themselves similarily to myself or my other lesbian friends. it's cute!! as for cgw, part b of the series is gonna be intense, and i'm especially curious to see how they're gonna do the inevitable breakdown of fuyu again. my girl is so deep in the trenches, her temporary being on cloud 9 right now is gonna be short-lived and i want to see it happen. i hope she can really stand up for herself and make things right after all!

#mono-loguing #chaser game w #long post #text #rambling #sorry this got so long. i just wanted to type some thoughts out. really curious to see what happens next week

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

Happy Holidaze║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ

| HAPPY HOLIDAZE | part of the A Weight Off Your Shoulders collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x plus sized!fem!neighbor (Roxy)

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 9.7k | CONTENT: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), struggles of body image and self-worth, diet culture, awkward conversations and situations with your parents, fluff with dash of smut at the end, two idiots in love who are disgusting sluts for each other

| SYNOPSIS: You and Joel finally meet each other's families.

✧this is the fifth installment of a oneshot collection✧ ✧◦◦║ Part 1 ║ Part 2 ║ Part 3 ║ Part 4 ║ Part 6 ║◦◦✧

nail color? You text the question along with a picture of the wall of options in front of you. getting a pedi too so pick two The text bubble pops up then disappears for a moment before reappearing again.

You want it to match holiday stuff or whatever? I’m not an expert at this stuff. Don’t know if there’s unspoken rules or something.

You roll your eyes and smile down at your phone. Joel was older, old enough to not always get the social implications of certain situations, especially in the dating world - not that the two of you were officially dating or anything - situations, like asking a man to pick out what color you should get your nails done.

don’t need an expert

A playful grin warms your features as you type out a few extra snippets and hit send.

just need to know what color you wanna see on my nails 

you know, for when you’re watching me grab your dick and stroke it later

You bite back a smile, teeth tucked into your bottom lip, as you wait for a reply. As expected, the text bubble flashes and disappears on the screen repeatedly. You can vividly picture Joel texting you back in a frenzy over your flirty message. You relished in getting him worked up sometimes, knowing you could get him absolutely feral to the point that he’d just rip his clothes off the second he got through the door and fuck the living daylights out of you.

You stifle a laugh when his contact picture takes up the entire screen. Of course he’s given up on trying to text you back and is just calling you instead.

“Yyyeesssssss?” you draw out in an innocent voice.

“Goddamn you can’t just send me shit like that when I’m at work, baby.” His husky voice is clear even as it passes through the somewhat scratchy receiver.

“What’s the matter, Joel? Those big ass Wreck It Ralph hands of yours couldn’t type the words fast enough?” you tease. Joel’s deep laugh on the other end of the line makes your belly feel like a swarm of butterflies are about to burst through your throat.

“How the fuck did I end up with a brat like you, huh?” he chuckles.

You hum a laugh in reply and wait patiently for him to answer your original question.

“Alright, brat. Lemme think.” He makes small, thoughtful noises as you tilt your head and scan the wall. When he makes a low, throaty noise, you sniff a laugh through your nose.

“Okay, if you are actually picturing what the color will look like while I’m … doing that–” you pause, glancing around the nail salon as if an eavesdropper would somehow immediately know what sort of filth you were exchanging “–you’re gonna get sent to HR when somebody sees you all bricked up at work.”

Joel laughs again. He’d laughed every time you said “bricked up” since you taught him the expression several months ago.

“Alright, alright. Red. I want ‘em to be red,” he decides.

“Okay. And my toes?”

He makes a weird noise on the other end, and you roll your eyes. You know exactly what he’s thinking about.

“No, you will NOT have to picture what color my toes would look like wrapped around your–” you cut yourself off when you catch a curious, disapproving look from an older woman in a chair nearby getting a manicure. Joel busts out in a belly laugh, understanding that you were probably talking too loud and got a look from somebody.

“Hm, I dunno, baby. Never been into that, but who knows. Might be my new thing if you’re the one doin’ it. I like everythin’ you do,” he murmurs. It sounds like he’s cupped his hands against his mouth and the microphone so he could talk without getting noticed like you had. 

“Joel,” you warn with no real weight behind it.

“And besides, even if it ain’t a footjob situation, you know I like gettin’ those things up on my shoulders when I’m fuckin’ you senseless.” His voice is quieter now, but it’s less to do with volume and more to do with the raspy, lewd bend to his words.

“I just know I’m going to regret teaching you this, but there’s actually a name for that,” you say low, cupping your own hand into the receiver now so you could speak without catching another disapproving glance.

“Oh?” He sounds excited, as he always does whenever you introduce him to these kinds of things. Slang. How to hide photos from his main camera roll. How to work the remote on the TV. Turns out dating someone younger had its benefits - not that the two of you were dating or anything.

“Mmmhmmm. It’s kinda like the one I told you before. The ‘your hands would make a nice necklace’ thing. So yeah, you’d say ‘I wanna wear your ankles for earrings’ or, like, ‘I’m gonna make your ankles my earrings.’”

“Damn, maybe your generation ain’t so bad after all,” he chuckles. “Certainly come up with some handy terms, I’ll give ya that much.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” you giggle. “Like you’re that much older than me. Give me a break.”

He chuckles. You hear some yelling in the background on his end and then his muffled response to whoever it was that he’d “be right there.”

“Alright, honey. I gotta go. Lemme see. Alright. Toes. Hhhmm. How ‘bout blue? Like those one pair of panties I like’a yours,” he decides.

You smile. You know exactly the pair he’s talking about.

“Mmm’kay. Only ‘cuz I like you so much,” you hum.

“Yeah, you sure do like me ‘n these Wreck It Ralph hands. Don’t mind ‘em when they’re fingerin’ your–”

“Hanging up now,” you snip playfully.

“Don’t wanna hear you complainin’ when I yell ‘I’M GONNA WRECK IT’ when I’m balls deep in you tonight,” he hurries out before you can end the call.

“GOODBYE, JOEL. And you better not!” you snicker. “Talk about a turn off. I’d cut you off for a month.”

“Bullshit. You couldn’t go a month without me. Without my–” he laughs, not getting to finish before you cut him off.

“GOOD. BYE.” you huff in a giggle.

“Bye, baby. See you tonight,” he laughs easy before making some exaggerated kissy noises and hanging up.

You shake your head, trying to keep from erupting in laughter. This man was an absolute mess and full on dork, and you loved every second of it. You nab a seasonal red and a panty blue and wait to be called. You dutifully ignore the eavesdropper from before as she glances your way a few times. It wasn’t very hard to divert your attention with all the giddy, bubbly feelings surging through you. Joel made an outstanding distraction in plenty of ways, and you find yourself smiling like a love-struck puppy most of the time because of him. He really felt like the best thing that had ever happened to you.

He was wrong when he’d said “you couldn’t go a month without me” during your call. The truth was, you couldn’t go without him, period. He had become so naturally ingrained into your life that it felt strange to think of what it had been like without him. It just felt right that you existed in tandem. It was hard to separate how you felt and what you “knew.”

You knew you were in a casual “situationship” that neither one of you sought to define in any certain terms. You felt as though spending practically every night together, going on a weekend getaway together, and neither one of you pursuing anything outside of each other was decidedly more in the “serious, committed relationship” category.

You knew that it was a “textbook mistake” to jump from an almost decade-long failed relationship into a new, serious one. It wasn’t in line with what you were “supposed to do” after such a big change, which conventionally involved something along the lines of “playing the field for a while” and “just having some fun” while getting back out there. But your heart had decided that you were going to abandon all sense and become involved with the first guy you had a meaningful interaction with post-breakup.

So, here you are, just several months out of a heartbreaking split from somebody you were supposed to marry, and completely head over heels with someone new who felt too good to be true. You can’t think of a time in your life that you’ve been happier, so why did it feel so petrifying to just lean into the obvious? Why couldn’t you just yield to the undeniable, consuming magnetic connection between you and Joel?

He so often seemed to hold back for your sake, never wanting to push you past your comfort zone or ask too much of you too fast. Biting his tongue at times that you could’ve sworn he’d nearly slipped and said the “big L” to you and caught himself at the last moment. Just a miracle of a man who was patiently waiting you out, waiting for you to give in to it all and accept what was clearly happening. Admitting that, as crazy as it seemed and felt, the two of you were in love, and one of you needed to make the first move towards the next step. The definitive kind of step that makes this “casual fling” into a real relationship.

Something or someone was bound to give, and you don’t know if you’ll ever be ready for what that brings.

Your parents had booked the cruise long before your engagement was broken off. It was a dream of theirs to go on the two week long journey, spanning several continents and all of the major winter holidays you celebrated. Naturally you’d insisted that they don’t cancel on account of your bad bit of luck. At least somebody’s year was going like they thought it would, and it felt wrong to ask them to cancel the vacation they’d been talking about since forever.

That, and the fact that you were relieved to have a valid reason for attending Thanksgiving with your parents instead of going with Joel for a quick trip to see Sarah during her college break. Even though he’d asked in an offhand way if you’d want to go with him and meet her, you could tell he’d very much wanted you to say yes. Of course you wanted to meet her and share in Joel’s life that way, but it was a major shift into the “real, defined relationship” category – the kind where you had a title attached to your name when you were introduced to their family. 

It’s how you found yourself currently sat in your parents’ kitchen, poking around on the appetizer tray, while your mom busied herself with the normal fare in addition to “lower calorie alternatives” you were no doubt expected to choose if the quantities of each offering was anything to go by. You watch your mom slice impossibly thin pieces of cheese for the crackers and wonder if you should’ve just sucked it up and gone with Joel. Then again, you’d have to offer some sort of reason for missing out on a major holiday with your family. It was a catch 22.

“Roxy, don’t eat so many appetizers. I know it’s a holiday and all, but don’t go overboard,” your mom offers with genuine kindness that stings just as bad as if she’d meant to hurt you. You set the cheese slice and cracker combo back onto your plate. You knew you were stress eating from all the nerves about the possibility of the “how’s your love life”  conversation, but you surprised yourself by only realizing you were taking so many bites after your mom pointed it out.

You’d stopped being so vigilant with every morsel of food that passed through your mouth. You ate most of your meals with Joel, and you weren’t self-conscious about eating around him or in front of him like you always were with most people. It was a hard habit to break, to not be so focused on pacing yourself, matching your rate of intake with others so you didn’t look like a pig chowing down and wiping your plate clean before everyone else had finished.

Joel was a good cook, and he often brought you bites to test or little plates of this and that to tide you over before the whole meal was done. You weren’t even embarrassed when he’d feed you pieces of popcorn while you watched movies together, snuggled up together on the couch. He’d chomp a few pieces down himself and then pop a few kernels into your mouth, always attentive. Just like he was with everything when it came to you.

But here in your childhood home, listening to your mom’s offhand comments about your intake, it brought you right back into all those years of shame and guilt. You knew she meant well. She always had. Never wanting you to struggle the same way she did, years and years of diets and exercise regimens and restriction. She’d dropped a lot of weight since taking up Weight Watchers, and you were happy for her. She was always nicer and more relaxed when she’d hit those lower ends of the yo-yoing. All the more uptight and anxious the moment her weight crept back up again.

Your dad didn’t seem to care either way what she looked like, but it was a bit of accidental negative reinforcement that he liked interacting with her a whole lot more when she was nicer to him and everybody else. It just so happened that was only when her jeans didn’t fit so tight and the numbers weren’t too frightening on the scale. She’d no doubt come to internalize the dynamic and equate her lower weight with better interactions and a more fulfilling relationship with your dad, never even realizing it was the way she interacted with him and others that brought about those pleasant times and not what size she had to pull from the rack.

“Awfully quiet, Rox,” your dad notes.

You look over to find him studying you with those astute eyes. He was never much of a talker, but god could he communicate so much with a look or a gesture. Your mother on the other hand–

“Yeah, hon. Please don’t spend the day thinking about that awful, awful man.” You suppose your unusual quiet could most readily be explained by all the feelings that might come about spending your first major holiday out of a relationship for the first time in almost ten years. You aren’t sure which is worse: that hypothetical explaining your silence, or the truth, which was an over the moon sort of romance that you couldn’t talk about yet.

“I’m not thinking about Michael,” you mumble petulantly. You didn’t want to give him any sort of win, even if he wasn’t around to know about it.

“Y’seem distracted,” your dad says plainly.

He’s watching you with those eyes that say he already knows something is up, but he doesn’t know enough to speak on it yet. Your gut pinches. It won’t take him long to figure it out. It never does if he’s got his mind set to something. It was a trait you’d always admired and envied. You shrug off his observation, but your mom isn’t so quick to let it go.

“You’ll get to a place where you can put yourself back out there, hon. I just know it. You’re a resilient girl, and you’re not going to let that loser change that,” she sniffs with an air of indignation. It’s hard to imagine this was the same woman who this time last year had been so effusive with compliments and general praise to the same man she was now deeming a loser. Still, the sentiment that he had kneecapped your entire romantic life annoyed you more than it should’ve.

“Who says I’m not ‘back out there’ already?” you grumble to the half empty tray of appetizers.

Your mom jolts like she’d been doused in ice water. Your eyes flit to your dad who gives you a knowing grin. Even though you hadn’t even actually said anything, it felt good to talk about Joel, to acknowledge his existence at least. You feel a sudden urge to just tell your parents everything about Joel. You chug the rest of your red wine to reign yourself in and wait for the onslaught from your mother.

“You’re seeing someone?” she breathes, excitement boiling over.

“Well, I mean… I guess I’ve been, you know, like, talking with somebody,” you say as casually as you can manage.

“Oh? REALLY? Oh! That’s-That’s wonderful, Roxanne!” your mom exclaims, rising to the balls of her feet and clapping her hands together quietly. “How long have you been seeing each other? Why haven’t we met him yet?”

“Take it easy, will ya, Melissa? She didn’t say it was anything serious,” your dad mutters. 

For all his faults, your dad at least grasped the concept that the dating world had changed significantly since he and your mom got together, and it was no longer the kind of landscape where you were “going steady” with the same person after two successful dates. Your mom, on the other hand, struggled with the concept of casual anything when it came to relationships.  A romantic at heart, she was always the type to believe in the sorts of things like twin flames, finding your soulmate in every universe, and so on.

You snort to yourself, considering how you were a perfect blend of the two. The logical, practical side of you knowing that you and Joel hadn’t defined your relationship with any specific terms, but you were mutually exclusive. A noncommittal sort of committal. The bleeding heart side of you knowing good and well that you were in love with him. It was the stuff of romcoms, the type that you’d make Joel watch with you on the weekends when it was your turn to pick the movie. The kind that he pretended to be annoyed by but never truly complained about and never made you feel like a mawkish idiot when you’d cry at the sappy payoff in the overwrought finale.

“Oh, shut up, Robert,” your mom snips. “I just meant I wanted to know more about him. Don’t act like you don’t, either.” She did her best to be annoyed with your dad, but she broke almost immediately when he smirked at her and poked her sides teasingly.

“Didn’t say I wasn’t. Just wasn’t gonna push her, dearest,” he mocks half-heartedly. He swigs a sip of beer and turns back to you.

“Of course we’d love to hear about him, Rox. Wanna know who’s got my little girl’s attention, ya know?” He smiles, mood and tongue steadily loosened by the beer in his hand. Your mom makes a low sneering sound. When you and your dad both look at her curiously, she sighs and shrugs.

“Sorry. It’s just- Yes, of course we want to hear all about him, serious or not. I want to know who’s got your attention, too, but I-I just…” she trails off, suddenly seeming uncomfortable as she and your dad exchange a loaded look.

“What? What is it?” you demand.

“I think what your mom is tryna say, Rox, is that we want to know more about him for the sake of knowing about him, but also because we’re both… we both hope whoever it is treats you better than.. what you dealt with before,” he finishes clumsily.

Your dad wasn’t the talkative type, but he was always better at expressing himself when he did decide to speak. Choosing his words more carefully than your mother ever did and communicating clearly despite not offering up much conversation very often. It felt odd to hear him stumble over his words, but it went hand in hand with their shared look moments ago.

They’d obviously talked amongst themselves about your complete failure of a relationship with Michael. It had been humiliating to tell them the truth of the situation, why you couldn’t “work it out” and why you had to move back home, but they were ultimately supportive.

It felt all the more humiliating on your end because your parents had been madly in love and happily married for decades. It was the kind of relationship you didn’t hear about much anymore, the childhood sweethearts who were destined to fall in love and be together forever. You’d thought that you were going to have the same thing, just a little rougher around the edges. Instead you’d ended up with a mockery of a relationship that you’d wasted years of your life on and would never get back.

“Maybe somebody closer to your age would be better, too,” your mom’s third glass of wine said. 

Your dad didn’t say anything, but his face spoke all the agreement in the world with the sentiment. Your stomach flipped. Great. Of course they were going to write off anyone with more than 5 years of seniority on you after Michael had so dutifully upheld the classic trope of “older man divorces his wife for his younger girlfriend and then repeats the cycle when she ages out of his desired demographic.” Yet another aspect of your life that he ruined despite not having spoken to him since before you left Colorado and came home.

“Maybe you should meet him before deciding you don’t like him,” you gripe defensively. The urge to defend Joel was strong, but you regretted your words the moment they left your lips.

“What a lovely idea!” your mom practically sings. Your dad’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline in surprise at your quick to defend attitude for this “casual relationship.” Right off the bat and you’d shown your hand. You wonder if your dad will clue your mom in that you obviously had strong feelings for this mystery man. You pour another glass of wine and resign yourself to divulging the bare minimum of information about Joel to your parents.

You don’t give a specific on age – “he’s older than me” – or when you met – “he lives next door.” Your mom was biting back annoyed sighs at how you danced around questions. You’d finally had enough to drink that you promised to talk with Joel about the four of you meeting up for dinner sometime in December before your parents left on their cruise. You hope that Joel will help you concoct some sort of excuse for not scheduling such a dinner, but your instinct tells you that he would probably be even more excited about it than your mother, if that was even possible.

“Joel, I don’t think this is structurally sound,” you half-joke.

The gingerbread structure, which was really just a bunch of graham crackers stuck together with store bought icing, was definitely leaning towards the left, but there wasn’t any discernible freefall motion to it. Just a slow, sinking slant towards the dining room table surface.

“Just leave it to the professionals, huh?” he snips back playfully.

“I knew I should’ve gotten a second opinion,” you theatrically mutter under your breath.

Joel pops a marshmallow into his mouth and chews loudly just because he knows how much it annoys you. “You got the best right here, baby.” He smacks his mouth in big gnawing motions. “Can’t get any better than this.”

His goofy grin is endearing, and you focus on that instead of the voice in your head readily agreeing that, yeah, you couldn’t do better than Joel and you might not even be good enough for him in the first place. 

“You up for a lil friendly competition?” he suggests. 

You shake off your negative thoughts with a loose shrug and smirk back at him. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“Whoever makes the best gingerbread house person wins,” Joel proposes in a borderline smug tone . You’re about to agree when he holds a single finger up. “But wait just a minute, let’s make it interesting. You make me, and I’ll make you.”

Your mind is already going into overdrive producing hilarious confectionary Joels, and you don’t even waste any time offering up a verbal agreement to the challenge before diving right in. It’s only a minute or two later that cereal boxes have been erected between the two of you as “anti-cheating shields.” Sprinkles and icing cover the surface of the table everywhere you look. You’d both worked in near silence as you diligently crafted holiday candied versions of each other. 

You give your creation a once over and beam at your work: rice krispy treats mashed together with extra marshmallows for a broad, strong body, brown and black sprinkles mashed into the “face” to make a patchy beard, little red licorice pieces for the mouth, a chocolate candy smeared with marshmallows for his “salt and pepper locks,” and two mismatched sprinkles for eyes.

You start to peek around the boxes, but Joel is quick to block your line of sight. “Hey, no looking until it’s done!” You put your hands up in mock surrender and giggle uncontrollably at how serious he’s taking the task. He grins big and wide before nipping at your bottom lip, cheek, and earlobe in quick succession. “Absolute brat,” he breathes out a laugh. His eyes slide to your making of him, and his smile goes even wider.

You pick it up gently and present it to him. “Ta-da!”

He wheezes in laughter as he produces his version of you, and you’re quick to join him when you see it. Two jumbo marshmallows shoved together, some sort of pink taffy crammed into it near the bottom to represent what you can only assume is your vagina, two smaller but still sizable marshmallows attached by toothpicks for breasts – pointed ends of the toothpick still visible, of course, for your nipples – and random bits of icing and sprinkles mishmashed into a face.

“Oh wait wait wait,” you giggle like a maniac. You shove three mini marshmallows onto a toothpick to give your candy Joel a penis. He arranges the two of you against the lopsided graham cracker house, marshmallow penis situated crudely into your pink taffy vagina, and you both take in the completed scene.

“Never seen a better lookin’ gingerbread family,” he chuckles.

You nod, enthusiastic with agreement at the deformed but lovable pairing. You want to shove down the urge to mention the impending dinner with your parents, but you can’t quite manage.

“Speaking of family,” you awkwardly lay out, “you sure you’re still up for meeting the folks?”

Joel only looks a touch more serious when he answers. “Wanna meet the people responsible for creating such a beautiful thing like you.”

“Can’t promise they won’t make you pay for all of Michael’s sins,” you mutter.

He just smirks back in response. “If they didn’t give the next guy shit after that colossal failure of a man you were with, I’d wonder if they actually gave a shit at all.”

As usual, Joel brings everything into focus and props the situation up on a patient, flexible perspective for everyone involved. If he was in charge of the narrative, maybe the dinner wouldn’t be that bad afterall.

The pretty green satin dress you’d finally worked up the courage to buy and wear suddenly felt three sizes too small and ten times too revealing to wear for dinner with your parents. You smooth over the already smoothed fabric, hands gliding freely over the swell of your hips and belly where the light catches, and let out a heavy sigh.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ,” Joel groans from the doorway.

You twist around awkwardly to find him staring at you. His eyes roam back up to your face, and he shakes his head with a small, incredulous laugh. His grin etches out little grooves of joy around his eyes. “You look incredible.”

And it’s as simple as that. Joel looking at you how he does and saying the things he does, dispelling those nagging, intrusive thoughts in a moment’s passing. You turn to face him directly and do a bit of admiring yourself. Crisp, neat gray slacks paired with a nice button up shirt, hair lightly gelled back, scruff a little less scruffy. Joel looks devastatingly handsome, and you tell him so.

It’s an easy atmosphere for most of the car ride to the restaurant. It’s the kind of familiarity and comfort that comes so easy that it ends up being difficult to explain to people. A sort of if you know, you know energy, and the closer you got to the restaurant, the more you were scared your parents weren’t going to “get it” at all. The nerves crept up and tightened like a vice squeezing around your chest. Your dress feels too snug and inappropriate again all the sudden.

“Hey.” Joel’s voice plucks you from your mini spiral. He’s glancing at you while he waits for the light to change, but you hadn’t even noticed the car had stopped at all. “It’ll be good. It’s gonna be a nice dinner, okay?”

You shake your head. “No, I know. I know it’ll be alright. I’m just–I don’t know why, but I guess I’m just nervous.” You give an apologetic shrug as if you might offend Joel for feeling anything less than ecstatic for him to meet your parents.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be worried about. If you get too nervous at dinner, I can handle it. I know how to steer a conversation, baby,” he assures you.

“But it’s not fair to ask you to take charge of the conversation just because I’m being overly anxious,” you grumble. “Especially since they’re my parents. I should be the one fielding questions and directing the conversation to pleasant chitchat.”

“Well, I guess that’s just one of the many things that makes me such a catch,” he teases with a wink.

You can’t help but smile a little at his attempts to keep you level headed. “Can’t argue with that.”

You focus on the lazy circles his wide hands draw on your thigh for the rest of the drive. You keep a flow of steady breaths as you pull into the lot and tell Joel not to worry about paying for valet. He grins knowingly at you. It was always a good sign if you were focused on economics and prudent money practices. His arm wraps across your back like a stabilizing bracket. The hostess informs you that the rest of your party has already arrived and is awaiting your company. Your heart jumps into your throat when you spot your parents seated in the middle of the restaurant.

It’s a bit of a blur as Joel introduces himself, offering a firm handshake to your dad and a friendly kiss on the cheek for your mother. He’s not even batting an eye as he prompts you to take a seat in the chair he’s pulled out for you. You plop awkwardly into your seat and feel like a deer in headlights. You realize now you probably should’ve prepped more for potential conversations and what sort of cohesive statements you and Joel would make in return. Your mouth feels like sandpaper, and your mother has to ask her question again when you realize you’ve missed it.

“I said, are you feeling okay? You’re just staring off,” she repeats with an edge of worry.

You snap into “fake it until you make it” mode and laugh it off. “Yeah, sorry, mom. Just realized it’s been a while since I ate something. Guess I’m a little hungry.”

It was the first thing that came to mind for a flimsy but passable excuse, and you want to launch yourself into the sun for immediately inviting the topic of food and appetite to the table. Even your dad pauses for a split second to squint at you as if he’d misheard. Your mom doesn’t take note of it, too delighted by your choice of topic. 

“OOooohhhh, is it intermittent fasting? I’ve heard a lot about that. How long have you been doing that? I’m so proud of you!”

The unspoken “I’m so happy that you’re finally trying to lose weight again” hangs in the air and makes your cheeks start to burn. You’d rather shrivel into a ball of mush and seep through the cracks in the floor than have Joel bear witness to one of you and your mother’s back-and-forths over eating and body weight.

Joel barely finishes his sip of water before wading into the disaster of a conversation you’ve started. “Intermittent fasting? Ain’t that what you do before a doctor’s appointment?” You appreciate his willingness to throw himself into whatever awkward bullshit you’ve managed to whip up in such a short amount of time, but he’s truly not well-versed enough in your mother’s history of food and diet culture to really understand just what he’s getting into.

“Oh, I guess, but this is a real winner from what I’ve heard. One of my girlfriends just switched to it from keto, but she’s still quite plump, you know? It’s supposed to do wonders for cutting back on calories and weight loss, ” she reports with glittery, tired eyes that shift to you for a split second at the word plump.

“What? Like a diet or somethin’? You tellin’ me people just cut out whole chunks of time and won’t let themselves eat?” Joel’s misgivings with the entire concept is obvious. Your mother of course further ensnares her victim into the conversation, knowledgeable or not of the verbal intricacies and diatribe lures that await them. “It restarts your metabolism,” she explains excitedly to a further perplexed Joel.

At least she was trying to salvage the discussion and didn’t seem put off by Joel’s less than stellar reception to her passionate opinions.

“Sounds a little strange to me, but I guess to each their own,” he offers, noncommittal and not entirely convincing.

Your mom deflates a bit but takes it in stride. It was more than what she normally got in those types of conversations. You thank the high heavens when the waiter comes to start your orders. You fumble with the menu and mentally thank Joel when he casually suggests something for you, exactly what you would pick for yourself had your brain not been in panic mode. Everyone is focused on their menus for a short time, muttering here and there about which special looks good and what the house favorites are. You spend the entire time dreading the thought of your mother talking about your weight, dieting, and body in front of Joel and haven’t picked a dish by the time the waiter returns. All your brain can do is hammer thoughts of the night ending badly one way or another.

Before Joel can step in and just order for you, your mother supplies you with her ever helpful suggestions. “You know, there’s a lot of really delicious looking salads. And it’s easy to get the dressing on the side to save yourself some Points.”

“Salad? Points?” Joel asks.

“Oh, I guess intermittent fasting wouldn’t be Points,” she laughs at herself like she’d just made a funny joke. “Weight Watchers does Points. You know, tracking your calories through Points. Makes it so easy, especially during these cooler months when everybody just starts letting themselves go and eat anything they see!” She’s nodding with an enthusiasm that no one else at the table shares.

Joel glances at you with a look of why the fuck would anybody waste a nice meal out being worried about calories? but he doesn’t say that – thank god. You order a pathetic sounding salad just to move things along, and you ignore Joel’s bewildered expression over your dinner choice. Your mother makes a face – over what you can only assume is the fact that you didn’t order your dressing on the side – before she orders a smaller, even more pathetic sounding salad and a bowl of glorified bone broth. It’s steaks and seafood for the men at the table, and then you’re left with the expanse of time between ordering and the food arriving.

“So, Joel,” your mother starts up again. “You’re quite the mystery man! It was a pleasant surprise when we found out our little Roxy had made a nice friend.”

Joel’s face radiates warmth and pride at the mere allusion of being yours, being your mystery man - a “nice friend.” He gives a breezy explanation of how it’s been nice for him to have such an intelligent, funny companion that’s just a stone’s throw away from his own house. Things get a little rocky when he mentions his house being more quiet since his daughter went away to college. Your dad all but freezes on the spot and pins you with a look that you can’t place.

By some divine nature, your mom doesn’t say anything and opts to just blink repeatedly at Joel with a blank stare. Sensing he might’ve opened a can of worms with the innocent comment, Joel looks to you with uncertainty for the first time this evening. Something in his search for the right thing to do at this moment gives you the drive to speak up.

“Yeah, it’s been nice for me, too, honestly. It’s the first time I’ve lived alone in a really long time, you know? And I think I would’ve been doing a hell of a lot worse if I hadn’t met Joel,” you attest.

He gives you one of his shy, goofy grins, and part of you wonders why you would ever feel nervous when you’ve got someone like him by your side.

“Well, it certainly sounds… convenient,” your mother notes with a questionably loaded emphasis on the word convenient.

Ah, yes, there’s the other part of you screaming and hopping up and down that says THIS is precisely why you would feel nervous, even with Joel by your side.

“Maybe it was destiny. Aren’t you always going on and on about that sort of thing, mom?” you shoot back with a glare. Heat prickles on your neck at the insinuation that you and Joel enjoy each other’s company simply because it’s easy and right in front of you. Your mom huffs a little at your pointed tone, but you don’t back down. 

“I never said it was a bad thing. I just think it’s certainly an element that’s made things more… speedy. But that’s neither here nor there, I guess.”

“Oh so now it’s not just because it’s easy but it’s rushed, too?” you scoff.

“That’s not what she’s sayin–”

You cut your dad off before he can jump in to defend your mom’s rude comments. “Sounds pretty clear what she’s saying, dad.” When you catch a “just so fast” and a “the whole Mike situation” muttered under her breath towards your dad, you feel on the verge of screaming. A large, firm grip on your thigh snaps your attention to Joel who levels you with a look – no, a silent request to let him take this on for you, to make good on what he’d promised in the car: ain’t nothin’ to be worried about,  I can handle it, I know how to steer a conversation.

“Hey,” he bids to you, tender but firm. “Let them say their piece. This is all new to them, alright? They’re just wantin’ to protect you is all.”

“I’m not going to let them disrespect us– you,” you grit out.

“I can handle myself, sweet girl,” he reassures you with a lopsided grin. He motions for a waiter and orders a bottle of white for the table. The brief pause has deescalated some of the tension, but you’ve yet to look at your mom for fear that you’ll want to snap all over again. Joel turns his full attention to your parents.

“Joel, I didn’t mean anything bad from what I was saying, it’s just—” Your mom is rushing to appeal to his understanding, easygoing nature, and you think to yourself she doesn’t much deserve it right now.

Joel waves a dismissive hand - water under the bridge. “Pardon me for the interruption, but you don’t need to explain yourself to me. If somebody did to my daughter what that prick did to yours, I’d probably be behind bars,” he says plainly. You swear your dad smiles for the briefest moment at that. “So I don’t take any issue with y’all wantin’ to keep her from gettin’ hurt again.”

Your mom frowns and drops her gaze. A spark of guilt nips at your gut. Maybe you weren’t being fair. Maybe you were just so keyed up from the start that any little thing was bound to set you off. When the waiter appears with the wine, you happily gulp down the entire pour. Your mom sips at hers and avoids your eye.

“Here’s to new beginnings, yeah?” Joel offers with a lift of his glass. You clink your empty cup with the rest of the table in a muted cheers. “And to the love and happiness that we all deserve,” your dad adds with a soft look in your direction. The conversation shifts to meaningless chit chat, anything safe and tame to avoid another labile interaction.

You’re happy when dinner arrives just to have something else to focus on. Without a word, Joel takes your salad and scrapes half of it onto his plate before doling out a large portion of the steak he’d ordered. He nestles the bowl back in front of you and bites back a devilish smile.

Your dad is definitely sporting a tiny grin now, no mistaking that. Your mom of course looks puzzled but thinks better of commenting. When the table is quiet long enough for it to start being awkward, your dad steps up to the plate. “Pretty dress, hon. Don’t think I’ve seen you in it before. Don’t tell me you went and bought some new digs on account of this little dinner,” he teases.

You smile softly at the compliment and taunting. “Glad you’re sitting down already because I actually did buy this not too long ago. Realized I didn’t really have any going out clothes I actually liked.” You relax into the ambiance a little and cut through Joel’s – your – steak. 

“You got my daughter out here acting strange, Joel,” your dad jokes. “Can hardly convince this one to spend a dime on anything, let alone herself. Good man.”

Joel chuckles goodnaturedly. “She’s been a good influence on me. Taught me a thing or two about finances I’m ashamed to say I prolly shoulda known at this point in my life, but better late than never I guess.” He gives you a playful nudge, and you feel like melting into a happy puddle. This is really happening. You and Joel, out and about as a legitimate, bonafide pairing, having dinner with the parents. It might be the entire glass of wine you downed on an empty stomach, but you’re pretty sure Joel is what’s got you feeling so intoxicated and fuzzy brained.

“Can’t work a lawn mower worth a damn, though,” he taunts. You groan and hide your face under your palm. Your mother zeroes in immediately on the inside joke and manages to convince Joel to tell the story. He sugarcoats none of the language or tantrum involved, and your parents both crack up at the telling. “Wish I could’ve snapped a picture of her face when she came back out to see me pushin’ that thing around without a problem.”

You’re a good sport, knowing Joel somehow finds all those less than flattering aspects of your personality more endearing than damning. He seems happy just to be talking about you so freely with others who know you and know how you can get. Joel can’t help ribbing your dad about the time you called a screwdriver a “screw gun,” and you can only laugh and shrug innocently when he claims they’re gonna “take his man card” for having his daughter out here misnaming basic tools.

You’re struck by how comfortable and confident Joel seems, how effortlessly he commands the attention of the table with his amusing storytelling and magnetic charm. Your parents are both genuinely smiling and engaged with him, and your eyes start to prick with the realization that this might actually end up okay. You and Joel stepping into this serious, committed territory might be nothing more than a no brainer, a path set in motion and followed with ease because it was just waiting for you to take the step forward and begin traveling.

You feel floaty by the time Joel excuses himself to the restroom. He plants a small peck on your temple before walking towards the back of the restaurant. You know you should gauge your parents’ impression of him before letting yourself just sit there in an unmistakable, lovestruck haze, but you can’t quite find the will or the concern to do anything else but bask in it. Joel just makes it around the corner and out of sight when your dad turns to you with a shrewd stare.

“He makes you happy. Doesn’t he?” he posits.

You blink back tears and nod with a watery smile. Your dad clucks his tongue on the roof of his mouth and nods back. “You know, your mom earlier… I think she was trying to broach a subject that we– to keep from making the same mistake twice. Her and me both—” you gently shake your head, not following the train of thought “—We had our reservations about Mike, and we didn’t say anything at the time. We didn’t want to rain on your parade, you know? But, we should’ve– we both should’ve shared our concerns we had about him from the start. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that, but we regret it, hon. We really, really do. Feel like we let you down. Like we failed at being your parents.”

The blissful tears inching towards the front of your eyes were blurring into those of rueful retrospection. Of course it made sense that they hadn’t been crazy about the freshly separated, not entirely divorced, and notably older coworker you’d found your heart embedded in. He’d lived an entire life before you’d come around, and then he’d thrown all of your pivotal young adult years down the drain like you were nothing.

“Joel’s nothing like him,” you blurt out.

“And we can see that, hon, we really can,” your mom adds quickly. Her eyes are glossy and entreating, and you sniff back the impending outpour hot along your lashline. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t hurt you, too. And we just have to be honest with you this time around, okay? If we see something, we’re just gonna have to speak on it, and I’m sorry if that’s upsetting to you.”

“We aren’t looking to make Joel pay for anybody’s sins. We just– We owe it to you to do it right this time around, Rox. Can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror if you got hurt again because we didn’t say something when we should’ve.” Your mother’s hand stays cupped in his when he reaches across the table to hold onto yours.

“It’s not your fault,” you sniff. “The only person who should be feeling bad right now is that scumbag back in Colorado. I deserve better than him, and I’m not going to let him hold me back from finding that person.”

“Of course not, of course not,” your dad agrees. “We just felt it was only fair that we be upfront with you about where we’re coming from this time around. Thankfully Joel seems like a great guy, so there’s no need to get the pitchforks out just yet.”

You snort and roll your eyes at the much welcomed turn to levity in the conversation. “Yeah, well, he’s a really good guy, and I know the more you get to know him the more you’re gonna love him.”

“Like you do?” your mom presses.

“Like I do what?”

“We’ll love him, like you love him?” she probes.

“I-I… um… I need to use the bathroom,” you announce as you stand and skitter the direction Joel headed what seems like 400 years ago. Without a second glance, you round the same corner he’d taken and make a beeline for the women’s restrooms. You’re not even cognizant enough to be startled when Joel pulls you into him.

“Where you runnin’ off to?” His smile falters when he sees the barely contained tears, and then his hands are cupping your face until you tell him what happened. You give him the quickest recap possible - dutifully excluding the part where you’d run off before having to answer your mom’s question about whether or not you were in love with Joel - and promise it’s nothing major. After the fourth time of asking if you were sure you were okay, you turn the questioning onto his whereabouts during the whole thing. You’re prepared to be annoyed with his answer, but the wind goes right out of your sails when he reveals he had given his card to the waiter to handle the bill and placed a to-go order for some dessert “in case you weren’t full from the half steak half salad.”

You don’t even allow yourself to sit with the genuine kindness and thoughtfulness oozing from Joel right now. You’re about two seconds from an emotional whiplash cry session, and you want to finish the night on a good note. Joel kisses you lightly across the forehead while he brings you into his embrace, and you take the opportunity to talk low and private.

“When we get home, I want you to turn my cervix into a dick punching bag,” you rasp. You meant for it to come out more joking than it did, but your abrupt detour into sexual frustration turned that intention right on its head.

Joel groans and sneaks a handful of your ass into the hand closest to the wall and out of sight of passerby. “Fuckin’ nasty. Baby needs some stress relief and it gets her talkin’ real filthy, huh?”

You look up to him with wide doe eyes and nod urgently. He sucks in a breath and looks to the ceiling like he’s collecting himself. He adjusts the crotch of his pants and crowds you against the wall. His breath is hot against your cheek when he murmurs, “Don’t wanna hear it later when I’ve got you pinned down with nowhere to go but to just take it, you understand?”

You gulp back a moan and bob your head yes. “S’good. S’real good because I ain’t gonna let up until that pussy is all beat to hell and raw from my cock, you hear me?”

“Oh my god,” you whimper. You rub your thighs together at the mental images he’s conjuring.

“See you back at the table, baby,” he toys. He waggles his eyebrows and is gone with the turn of a heel. You practically sprint into the bathroom and slap a towel drenched in cold water around the back of your neck. When you finally calm down enough to return to the table, Joel helps you into your chair and informs you that your parents will be joining the two of you at his house for a home cooked meal after they get back from their cruise. He manages to keep the mood friendly and light for the rest of the dinner, and your dad doesn’t even get weird about the bill when he’s informed Joel has already taken care of it.

By dad code, that has to count for something, right? Not turning it into a pissing contest over who’s going to cover the tab was as good a sign as any that he definitely liked Joel. Your mom’s full on squeeze hug and cheek pat settled any lingering doubts. Your parents like Joel. You think Joel likes your parents, too. Despite a minor hiccup at the beginning, everyone had come out unscathed. Hell, you already had plans for them to spend more time with you and Joel as a couple.

You say your goodbyes to your parents and wave them off as their valet arrives. You’re awash in the swell of your successful night as Joel walks you to his truck. You’ve got that silly, happy smile plastered across your face. You can feel it pushing your cheeks against your temples with the intensity of it. You’re brought back to earth when you see that Joel has not only opened the passenger door for you but has the rear passenger door opened as far as it will go without hitting the empty car next to his truck. You’re boxed in by the doors and the cars. Joel tosses the container of dessert onto his dash and flings your purse onto the floor of the passenger seat.

“Hey! I don’t even think it’s zipp–”

The sheer heft and heat of Joel slams into you from the back and pins you against the seat. Your arms fly up and onto the seat as you try to catch your balance. Your next round of indignant complaint is halted when Joel curves himself flush against you, arms resting atop your own. He grinds slow and steady against your backside. Your breath hitches at the feel of him fully thick and hard for you.

“You see what you fuckin’ do to me?” he grunts against the side of your head. “Wearin’ this pretty thing. Bein’ so goddamn beautiful all dinner. Then seein’ me in the back and beggin’ me to fuck you so hard your pussy goes all bruised from me slamming my cock into you. Gonna fuck you so hard I gotta kiss it all better after, huh? S’that what you want?”

“Oh sh-shit,” you gasp.

Without waiting for your stunned response, Joel shoves your dress up to your hips and kneels between your legs. His mouth is on you in seconds, and you bite into your arm to stifle the surprised sound trying to claw its way out of you. He licks into you with blinding need and only stops working you with his fingers just long enough to free his dick from his pants and start jerking himself off.

“Fuck yeah, all mine,” he growls into your sloppy wet heat. He smears some of the mess from his mouth and chin onto his hand and tugs himself harder with the added lubrication. He slips two fingers into you and works them in tandem with his stroking. You bend your head as far as it will go and drink in the sight of Joel crouched on his knees in the middle of a parking lot with your slick glistening all over his face in the dull glow of the streetlight. He locks eyes with you and grins like he knows a secret.

“You’re mine now, yeah?” He hooks his fingers and plunges them faster. Your legs start to tremble.

“Y-Yes! Mine. Yours!” you choke out.

“Gonna let me have this pussy all out in the open if I want it, huh? Got me so wound up I can’t even wait ‘til I get you home. Bet you’d like it if somebody came walkin’ by right now and saw me claimin’ this pussy all to myself.”

You sob out a moan at the thought. Joel buries himself between your legs again and sends vibrations through you with every grunt and growl. You tense against the seat when your orgasm comes barreling out of nowhere, and you cling onto the truck for dear life when your legs start to give. Joel shoves his head up into you harder, licking and slurping up your cum at the same time he presses you against the car for support. He pulls back with a heaving inhale and grips at the fat of your ass as he erupts between your spread legs and onto the concrete in thick splats.

He stands and meets the heavy rise and fall of your chest with his own. “Goddamn perfect,” he pants. You reach a hand behind you and scratch against his scalp. He leans into your mouth and kisses into it like he’s putting the final mark of his claim onto you. He tucks himself back into his trousers and rights your dress before helping you into the truck. You can feel your arousal wetting into the fabric of your dress beneath your ass in the seat, another indication of who you belong to - officially.

That little mark of pleasure had ruined your dress. You cast a pitiful frown to where the still visible line of demarcation had resisted all intervention the dry cleaners could muster. You were supposed to be meeting Sarah in a few days when she got into town, and now you had no cute evening dress in the event you went out together. You make it through a few household chores and a handful of work calls before calling it a day an hour and a half earlier than usual. It wasn’t like you to dip out before you were scheduled, but you didn’t have anything as pressing as your ruined dress.

You drag your feet the entire 2 minute walk into Joel’s house. “Joellllll,” you call out. His truck was in the driveway, wasn’t it? So he should be here. You call out for him again with the added news that he “officially owed you a new dress after ruining the green one.” Just as you’re starting to get concerned with the silence, the stairs creek. You round the corner with a heavy pout. “You ruined my dress!”

The bright set of eyes and impish smile that greeted you were an echo of Joel’s but not quite his own. You recognize her from the hundreds of photos Joel had shared with you. Sarah. Days early and looking increasingly amused and curious at your presence.

“Ruined your dress, huh?” She crosses her arms and leans against the wall. Her grin spreads the longer you blink silently back at her. “Should be an interesting story.”

Your cheeks burn, and you don’t think she’d be as amused if she knew just how right she is.

part 2 coming tomorrow :)

#fic: a weight off your shoulders #joel miller x plus size reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

[maskedtruths666]

Paid story Part 1. Denise gets a new job.

“All the best for your interview my love. I know you’ll do extremely well.” Jared said as he bade his girlfriend goodbye as he dropped her off for her interview.

“Thank you dear. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m done so we can head off for dinner okay? But if you get any long distance customers, I can wait for you nearby. Thank you for sending me here. I love you.” Denise replied as gave him a kiss before exiting the car.

Denise was excited as she finally managed to get an interview at a prestigious firm, to begin her financial journey. As she patiently waited her turn for the interview, she could feel herself getting more and more nervous as she’s seen the other candidates. They were all so confident and definitely looked prettier than her.

Finally, her name was called and she entered the interview room. In the room, there was a panel of 7 judges. 3 males and 4 females. Most were part of the HR team but a few of them were part of the investment banking side, which Denise had applied for.

Soon, the interview was over and Denise could not tell if it was a success or not. She could definitely answer all the investment related questions as well as the typical interview questions. She’s just not sure if her education background is good enough to enter.

She quickly met Jared and they spent the day together. Denise was told that she would receive an answer by the end of the day and time was passing her by agonizingly slow. Soon, she received a call at 5.45pm. With a tremble, she answered the phone. Jared was looking at her face to see her facial cues as Denise was listening to the phone. The moment the phone call ended, Denise’s face broke out into a huge smile as she cheered for joy.

“I got accepted and I start tomorrow! They are giving me exactly what I asked for and have added in a huge remuneration package for me should I hit my KPI. However, they’re putting me in the sales department, not the banking analyst department.” Denise said as she broke the news to Jared.

“Fantastic news nonetheless my dear. How much did you ask for?” Jared asked, hoping it’d be more than $5,000 a month because his meager salary of $2,800 to $3,300 a month is barely enough to support the both of them. So he desperately wanted Denise to get a high paying salary as they’ve just gotten a BTO together.

“Well, I asked them for $8,000 and they immediately agreed. And they did say that I have extra duties I could do to hit my KPI which will increase the amount of bonus I get. On top of that, after 6 months of on the job training, I’ll be able to run sales and the $8,000 is just my basic. I’ll be able to make commission and that’s extra money.” Denise said with a proud smile on her face.

The two of them spent the night celebrating and went to bed early.

The next day, Jared helped Denise choose her outfit for her first day at work. He always had this fear that Denise would leave him for a richer guy. After all, she’s way out of his league and he’s just a grab driver, driving a Vezel. He chose a seemingly normal outfit that wouldn’t attract that much attention or show off her perfect figure.

“My love, please don’t overthink okay? I’ll constantly update you within reasonable means. I want to make a good first impression on everyone there. I love you always. Remember that.” Denise said reassuringly as she gave him a kiss and stroked his cock whilst he was driving her to her new office.

“Alright. You’re all mine okay? I can’t stop the guys from staring and there’s nothing I can do. But I’ll still worry okay? If you have time during lunch, just text me a bit.” Jared said as he was trying to concentrate during the morning traffic.

Denise did not respond because she started sucking him off, to reassure him. By the time she reached office, Denise already had a huge protein filled breakfast. She viciously sucked him off whilst he was driving, ignoring his protests because she just has a magical tongue. She didn’t want him to cum all over her face or outfit so she swallowed it whole.

Seeing how he was pretty relaxed and drained out, Denise happily went to work. Jared, seemingly pleased, started driving grab to try and make up for the difference in salary.

When she reached the office, her supervisor greeted her.

“Good morning Denise, you’re early. Fantastic. My name is Joyce and I’m your supervisor. You’ll report to me and no one else.” Joyce said as she extended her arm out to shake Denise’s hand.

“Good morning Joyce. Very happy to be hear. Now, please tell me everything I need to know so I can get started right away.” Denise said, enthusiastically awaiting her orders.

The two of them hit off and soon, it was lunch time. Joyce brought Denise out for lunch where she introduced Denise to the directors of their company.

“Denise, this is Thomas, Dan, Michael and you remember Henry? He was at your interview yesterday.” Joyce said as she introduced Denise to the various directors.

Lunch passed by in a blink of an eye. The day resumed with Joyce continuously teaching Denise and soon, it was 5pm.

“Denise, director of sales, Henry, would like to see you in his office. Apparently he wouldn’t tell me why. But nothing to fear, I’ll be right outside waiting for you.” Joyce said, smiling reassuringly.

Slightly fearful, Denise walked to his office. She knocked on the door confidently and when summoned inside, she took confident steps to Henry’s table.

“Please, have a seat.” Henry said as he gestured to the chair.

As Denise sat down, she wondered what Henry would want with her.

“I’ll be very frank. You must be wondering why we hired you.” Henry said, without any readable expression.

“Yes I was. Very surprised and happy to hear that you guys have chose me out of the lot of them.” Denise replied.

“Yes. You see, out of the lot, you asked for the lowest salary and seemed to be willing to do anything to stand out from the other candidates.” Henry said.

“$8,000 is a huge sum of money for my boyfriend and I. It would totally change our lives.” Denise replied, honestly.

“And that is what I like. Honesty, humility, confidence and of course, a pretty face.” Henry said, smiling.

Seemingly relieved, Denise responded with a smile.

“Anyway, we have a dinner and drinks party later on. You can come with Joyce. It’s at 7.30pm, I trust you can make it?” Henry said, hoping Denise would agree.

“May I ask what’s the occasion?” Denise asked, perplexed.

“We had a fantastic quarter. We want to celebrate and show you how successful you can be. Of course, you said you’d do anything if you got the job, so are you going to come with us for the dinner and drinks?” Henry asked.

Not wanting to decline a director’s invite on the first day, she readily agreed.

“Oh and change out of this set of boring clothes. I bet your boyfriend chose this outfit for you. Wear a cocktail dress later, or don’t bother showing up at all.” Henry said, smirking at her, pushing her limits.

“Haha, you’re right. He chose my outfit and I trust his taste. As I’m sure I will trust his taste with a cocktail dress later on. I’ll see you there director Henry.” Denise smiled.

“Oh and, regarding your KPIs to hit your bonus, I’ve thought of it. You must wear dresses or skirts and blouses with heels to office every day and be my personal secretary. I’ll offer you an annual bonus of $250,000 on top of your salary just for that. I’ll even give you an allowance of $1,000 a month to dress up exactly how I’d want you to.” Henry said, smiling devilishly at Denise.

Playing it cool, Denise said, “Put it in writing. I want the $250,000 to be non taxable and in the form of stocks and crypto.”

“Fuck you’re smart. I like that.” Henry said.

Smiling back, Denise replied, “ I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Your first job as my personal secretary is to draft out a contract with those terms and we’ll sign in here in my office and I’ll bring you out to get a new dress.” Henry said, smiling, as he knew Denise is going to fall into his trap.

Denise, sensing a trap, decided to play along because she thinks she can outsmart Henry.

Soon the contract was done and before Henry signed, he said, “I want to add in one more term that is favorable to me.”

“What is that?” Denise asked.

“As long as you’re working for me or doing my work in my office, you’re only allowed to use your work phone. Your personal phone cannot be touched without my approval.” Henry said, smiling widely.

“So be it.” Denise said immediately and signed the document.

“Ah yes, one last final thing.” Henry said.

“Oh gosh, what is it?” Denise said.

“Get on your knees, suck me off right now and not only will I buy you a dress, I will give you $3,000 in cash immediately.” Henry said as he took out his wallet and casually took out a bunch of 100 notes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Denise said.

“No I’m not. I want to experience first hand how you’re gonna be sucking me off for the rest of the year.” Henry said.

“I am?” Denise replied.

“Your duty as a personal secretary is to assist the director, Henry, in any way that he needs for him to accomplish his day to day directorial duties.” Henry responded, reading the contract word for word.

Realizing she’s stuck and can’t escape the loophole, Denise feared the worst. She unknowingly fell into the trap of becoming a corporate whore.

“Treat me well and I’ll treat you even better.” Henry said as he gently patted Denise’s head, subtly pushing her to her knees.

THE END! Will Denise suck him off? Or will Denise find a way to outsmart Henry? Will Jared find out? Is Joyce filming this down? Is this all part of an elaborate test? Find out in the next part!

Sneak preview of Part 2.

“You’re just a god damn whore aren’t you?”

“Fuck, you’re so damn good. Please don’t stop.”

“Please make me cum.”

“The sluts always end up on their knees for money.”

“You must really want this huh?”

“Fuck me harder, I’m all yours, I’ll always be yours.”

[birthcouple]

Baby 6,s Home alone unassisted birth story

8th Sept

I was 37 weeks pregnant and not due for another 2 weeks. I was still running errands around, doing house chores and taking care of my 5 kids like how I usually did. However the whole day i was feeling braxton hix like contractions but did not think much about it as it came and go.

At 2000hrs, after settling my kids down for bed I said my goodbyes to my husband and sent him off his night shift. He was worried as I was heavily pregnant and wasn’t able to accompany me as he wasnt due for leave till next week. I assured him that the baby will not be here so soon (that’s when i jinxed myself) and everything will be fine.

I then decided to take a warm shower. During the shower I felt the braxton hix becoming more regular however i did not think much about it as my mucus plug was still intact and my water has not broke. I then went to bed early as pregnancy tired me out.

At about 2300hrs i was woken up by strong contractions and the urge to pee. I then went to the toilet and saw my mucus plug on my panties. I did my internal exam myself, however I couldn’t estimate how dilated I am. My water had broke a little but it was small trickles. I then tried to call my husband but he wasn’t picking up. There was nobody I could have called as my parents arent in town.

Things were still moving pretty slowly here. I did not want to wake my kids up hence I decide to give birth in my bedroom alone. I took off my clothes, waddled to my bathroom, took a few towels and a mirror and set them up on my bedroom floor. I didnt want to give birth in my toilet although it was easier to cleanup but i wanted to give birth comfortably in my bedroom. I just took it slow and bounced on my yoga ball and tried to rest as I can. The contractions were slowly picking up however it was still tolerable.

2345hrs

My husband gave me a call. I did not want to worry him as he was unable to leave work till 4/5 am due to an emergency call. I assured him everything was ok and promised him a video call when the birth was picking up. He also stand by to rush home once he was done with work.

At about 0030hrs my contractions were stronger and closer together. I did my internal exam every now and then but honestly i did not know what I was feeling. The pressure was getting more intense. I decided to move myself from my bed to the floor and propped my self sitting up with pillows on my back. I had a mirror facing me so i could view my birth process. My water then broke fully and it was a relief as my water appeared clear.

At about 0100 hrs I felt the urge to push. I could feel immense pressure on my perineum. I gave a small push. My vaginal opened a little as i pushed, water trickled out of my vaginal and I could vaguely see my babys head as it was far back. I then held my vagina open with my fingers as I pushed and that was when I could see the babys hair peeking out. As i let go, my vaginal vaguely stayed open and I could still see the water trickling out. When my contractions hit again, that was when I decided to push again. I held my vaginal open with my fingers and As i push, this time I could feel my baby forming a crown on my vaginal. However it did not stayed long, as i stopped pushing my baby went back in. I love to watch my progress in the mirror, although I was in pain I was able to see my unborn child making her way out and how my body was able to cope with it. In between contractions, I pried open my vagina and I was able to see my babys head, not peeking out but nestled at the back behind my vaginal walls. I tried to stroke my babys head and I could still feel her little kicks. Everytime I pushed with a contraction, my baby’s head peaked out a little and went back in as soon as i stopped pushing and that went on for a bout an hour.

At a point of time I gave a big push and i was finally at a crown. My crowning process was very long too as I did not rush it. As my babys head stretched my vagina, i was playing with my clit for pleasure. I started off with a small crown where my vaginal was making a small oval shape. As i progressed I then held a crown where my babys forhead was showing. I held that crown so long my babys head literally took the shape of my vagina. My vagina was held open so wide it was something I have not experienced before but i enjoyed it so much. I talked to my baby even before she was born out fully. The crown was so big that every movement it made, it pressed on to my clitoris and it was an amazing sensation that I love to go through again. Finally I gave a big push and with a bit of help of my fingers I birthed my daughters head. Through the mirror i could see she was facing down. I proped myself up so i could get a better view of her face. I wiped her face clean and she was making cooing sounds. I knew i wanted the birth process to be lemgthen hence I decided to stop pushing and let my body do its thing. With every contraction felt, I told myself not to push and I could see and feel her turning as she rotated to get out. My vaginal held a tight hold around her neck. Through ever contraction, i talked to her and stroked her head. My body naturally expelled her bit by bit and soon I was crowning at the shoulders. She started opening her mouth and tried to cry as soon as her shoulders were out. I let my body slowly push the rest of her body out and that itself took an hour. Soon enough she was out fully.

It was an amazing experience although it was scary to birth alone i was able to process it fully by myself and let my body do what it should. My husband also got to view the birth through video call and he told me he jerked himself off in the toilet when he saw me birthed my daughter.

#home birth #birth story #giving birth #birth kink

[barbiewritesstuff]

Wife, girlfriend or Whatever: Chapter 4

-- HI!!!! Chapter 4 is finally done omg, I’m sorry if this isn’t amazing, I’m not sure how I feel about it but yeah I hope you guys still like it lol, I will get better for part 5 tho, promise.

Thank you so much @Igg5989 for beta reading this, I cannot do this without you. 

TW. IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 GTFO, SMUT, p in v sex, oral sex (on both ends)

Previous Part

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2 @feedthemadness-sweetie @ravensmadreads @mslizziesblog @littlebadariell @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rose-sensuelle @whorunstheworldgirls @auntiegigi

(half of y’all didn’t ask to be tagged but you commented on part 3 so I thought you might like to see the update, sorry if not, feel free to ask me to remove you from the taglist)

“So, future Mrs Simpson, where do you want to go now? Back to the hotel?” Beau asked as soon as you stepped out of the restaurant and back onto the street, where the cold hit your face, flushing your cheeks.

“You promised me some window shopping,” you reminded him, following him down the road. 

“Right,” he smiled, “Wouldn’t want to disappoint my new fiancé immediately after proposing.”

“I can’t believe you did that,” 

“I told you I would make you pay,” he chuckled, “You can take the ring off, if you want,” 

“Yeah, I think I might, wouldn’t want it to stain my finger… Green really isn’t my colour,” you replied, turning the ring around on your finger. It felt strange, now that the fake proposal was over and the embarrassment had been washed away, you almost felt a little sad that it hadn't been a real ring, “On the other hand, how will everyone know I’m engaged?” you joked, trying to deal with your feelings in the only way you knew how, by ignoring them altogether.

“You make a fair point,” he said, “Maybe this will help?” he asked, grabbing your hand in his, interlacing your fingers with his.

“It’s a start,” you replied, turning away from him as you pretended to look at something on the other side of the road, “I think New York is growing on me,” you said, taking in the beautifully decorated shop window. 

“Don’t fall in love with it,” Beau warned, “NYC is a whole lot further than Santa Barbara,”

“Have you ever been?” you asked, “Santa Barbara, I mean,”

“Once or twice,” he replied, “It’s nice. The beach is beautiful, water’s warm…” he trailed off, “And eighty-third highest crime rate in California..” he added with a grin

“Says the man from Saint Louis,” you scoffed

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s like, the city with the highest crime rate in the US!” 

“I take it you’re not coming for Christmas, then?” he grinned

“I didn’t know it was a serious offer,” 

“It depends on your answer,” 

“Coward,” you poked him with a finger, “Don’t want me to meet your mama now we’re engaged? Why? Is there someone else? OH MY GOD, are you cheatin’?” you exclaimed, the Texan accent you usually tried to soften now coming through with the excitement. 

“Damn it you caught me,” he laughed, letting your hand go for a second. Before you could mourn the loss of contact, he snaked his hand around your waist and pulled you closer. Beau planted a kiss on your cheek, the feeling of it so electrifying that both of you paused for a second. You wondered if the gesture had reminded him of the kiss you had shared earlier that evening. It had made him pause, and while at that moment you had been happy the kiss had had any effect at all, now you wondered if it was because of surprise and not because of what you hoped… that he might return your feelings. 

Not that it mattered anyway. If he did, you would still be leaving, and he would still be your boss. HR would still investigate and it would still marr your record. Even if he did like you back, nothing could happen. Or that was what the rational part of your brain was desperately trying to make you understand while every other fibre of your being wanted him to never let go.

“HR,” you murmured, quietly enough that only Beau would hear, although if you had to be honest, while the rational part of your brain was trying to put a stop to it all, you were really hoping he hadn’t heard.

“You’re right,” he said, letting go of you, “Although…” he paused, “They’re not…here, are they…”

“Beau,” you tried to warn him half-heartedly

“All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t tell them, if we were a little less … professional,” he said, “Would you?”

“No,” you breathed, letting your mind wander, wondering what ‘less professional’ could mean. Your heart hoped it meant more hugs, and perhaps a few more kisses, but the heat pooling between your legs was telling you it wanted ‘less professional’ to end between the sheets. 

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” he tried to reassure you, “We’re just friends.” 

“Right,” you shot him a strained smile, “Just friends,” you added, “Just joking around.”

“Right,” he smiled back. Beau looked at his shoes, something he did whenever a situation got more awkward than he knew how to deal with, and then coughed, “I was thinking Madison Avenue.”

“Sorry?”

“Window shopping. I was thinking of Madison Avenue,” he explained, “We’ll take a cab though, I know you can walk on those, but it’s half an hour away from here on foot.” 

You hummed in agreement. Beau hailed a cab, displaying  the same efficiency he had at the airport. This cabbie, however, was silent for the entire five minute drive uttering only a quick hello when you climbed in and goodbye when you stepped out of the taxi and onto the avenue. While you imagined Madison Avenue to be somewhat impressive all year round, Christmas and its seasonal decorations had made it breathtaking. 

Beau walked you down the avenue, past Chanel and Tiffany’s and eventually past Saks department store, its front covered in impressive fairy lights, attracting everyone’s eye. You stood there admiring it for a while, until Beau tugged at the sleeve of the jacket you were wearing and motioned for you to move. 

He smiled at you, “Don’t get decorations like that in California, do we?”

“I’m thinking we were ripped off,” you laugh a little breathlessly, feeling slightly silly that you were so affected by little twinkling lights. 

“You’d get used to it,” he shrugged, “After a while it just becomes normal. Look,” he pointed at people passing by without sparing a second glance, “The locals just want to go home, they don’t even look at it anymore. The only people stopping by are parents with curious kids and tourists…”

“That’s sad,” 

He shrugged again, “San Diego has plenty of nice decorations, you don’t really notice those, do you?”

“I guess,” you admitted, “Doesn’t make it any less sad, though.”

Beau grinned, “I guess I just have to cheer you up, then,” he said, leading you into a side street on your right. You followed him as he sped up slightly until he veered right again and stepped into the biggest Barnes and Noble you had ever seen. 

“We have twenty minutes before they close,” he stated, looking at his watch, “Have fun,” he added, “I’ll be getting myself a coffee.”

You smiled and turned away from him, moving from section to section and row to row until the intercom crackled on and a voice announced five minutes until closing time. Gutted that you hadn’t even gotten to the section you had really wanted to get to and find the book you were dying to buy, you made your way to the café to find Cyclone. 

He stood off to the side of the café, leaning against a pillar, waiting for you with a cup of coffee in his hands, “Not getting anything?”

“No time, I’ll swing by tomorrow. I have a nail appointment anyway,” 

“Oh nice,” he smiled

“It’s not nearby, but I’d do just about anything for Stephen King, even if that involves braving the metro,” you joked nodding towards the poster advertising the book. An ardent love for Stephen King was another thing your father had passed on to you before his passing, and after his death, his complete collection had been willed to you. Sadly, because your apartment was so small, the fifty seven fiction novels, five non-fictions, several short story anthologies and the seven novels written under a pen name, now rested in a dark and dingy storage unit you rented for an outrageous amount of money from a horribly creepy and outrageously rude little woman with a terribly behaved dog. 

That was likely the only thing that really made you look forward to the new apartment, the living room was spacious enough to fill it with the shelves needed to host your Stephen King collection and the rest of your books too. 

“So,” Beau said with an amused frown, “Catacombs are creepy, and true crime is terrifying but Stephen King is fine? Remind me what kind of books he writes again?”

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes

“Ooh,” he said, “Crabby. Drink up,” he added, handing you his half finished coffee, “They were closing up and didn't want to make two coffees.”

“Bullshit,” you called out his lie, “you’ve had too much to drink and you forgot my order.”

“Never!” he laughed, “I don’t get drunk.”

“Liar,” you smiled

“I’m barely tipsy,” he replied with a huff, “I can hold my liquor pretty well, princess. I used to be a frat guy, you know?”

“I fail to see what that has to do with anything, I’ve met plenty of frat boys--,” you said, emphasising the ‘boy’, “-- who couldn’t hold their alcohol.”

“I’m not convinced,” you shrugged, “I say you need to prove it to me. How about a few drinks at the hotel bar?” you offered

“Don’t want the night to end yet, babygirl?”

“Not when I’m having this much fun, Adm--” you started, stopping short in front of a shop window. The outside was dark, decorations having been forgotten, the only sign that Christmas was near being a small pine tree by the window topped with a small golden star but the inside was dimly lit by a small desk lamp by the till where a woman sat hunched over a notebook, furiously scribbling things down. Hiding her somewhat, back lit unattractively, was the most beautiful dress you had ever seen. 

It looked very similar to Grace Kelly’s dress in Rear Window, a black top with a white embroidered skirt, made to seem full with a generous petticoat and finished off with white elbow gloves and a lovely chiffon scarf. It looked enchanting. 

“Everything okay?” Beau asked

“All good,” you grinned, “Pretty dress.”

---

After a long evening walk in freezing New York, you were ready for the warmth of the Edison hotel, although neither of you were keen to go your separate ways. Something had shifted in the air, Beau’s comment about dropping the professionalism had made the air charged with something neither of you could put your finger on. 

“How about we have that drink, then?” you offered, reminding him of his claim that he never got drunk. You had drunk enough at the Rivage, but a small part of you wondered, probably aided by the very nice wine,  where the evening might lead if you didn’t go back to your individual rooms.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” he said, his words contradicting his body, leading the two of you towards the lift and pressing the button for the rooftop bar. You stumbled onto the top floor with his hand against the small of your back. Beau led you to a small two person table near the edge, where you had the best view of New York. You looked at the view, the twinkling lights of the city that never slept looking more like stars than cars and buildings. You were suddenly shaken out of your reverie by Beau. He tugged your -- his -- coat off and hung it at the back of your chair. You turned around to thank him, finding yourself inches from his body. 

"Oh my God, how are you so warm?!" You chuckled as soon as your bare hand accidentally grazed Beau's shoulder. Although the rooftop bar wasn't by any means warm, the covered portion had been heated up sufficiently that keeping coats, gloves and hats on would be a little uncomfortable, but because he'd been walking around in the snow without a coat, you had expected him to be cold to the touch, if not downright frostbitten, "You're like a furnace," you added.

Beau grinned at you, extending his arms out into a T, inviting you in for a hug. You shrugged his coat off and dived in, making yourself comfortable in his embrace without a second thought, "I could live here," you said, voice muffled by his jumper and the skin of his neck. He smelled amazing, whatever aftershave he usually used had been swapped for something nicer and you couldn't deny it was doing things to you. It was musky and masculine, "I'm sorry, that was a weird thing to say," you mumbled.

"It's okay," he replied, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter, trapping you into him for a little longer, not that you wanted to go. You felt Beau bow down his head, hiding his face into the crook of your neck in the same way you were doing to him, and you wondered if he could feel your lips against his neck in the same way you felt his, and if it was eliciting the same thoughts. You tried to push them away but with no success. If you stayed any longer, you were afraid you might start to kiss any inch of exposed skin you could reach. You were dying to run your tongue against his neck, nip at his jawline, and run your hands against his bare flesh, regardless of the fact that you were in the middle of Edison's rooftop bar, surrounded by patrons and staff but you shouldn't. He was your boss, and would be for another few weeks. 

"I'd let you," he added, almost in a whisper. You weren't sure you had heard him correctly. Maybe your brain had made words out of the rustle of a coat, or you'd caught the last few words of someone else's conversation. Unwilling to face reality, you burrowed deeper into him and Beau chuckled, the sound of his deep voice crackling through him like thunder in a way that made your stomach flip. You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, the intention to never act on your all consuming attraction flying out of your mind as soon as you crossed his gaze. 

While still gentle, his eyes watched you with a sort of intensity that almost made your legs buckle. The strong arms holding you close to him in the hug moved, one came to rest at the small of your back, pressing you impossibly closer, while the other snaked its way up to your hair, his hand leading your head closer to him as he leant down. Beau kissed you, at first tentatively, almost asking if you really wanted this but he gained confidence when both of your hands moved to his chest, holding the crumbling fabric of his previously crisp shirt and pulling his upper body towards you.

The kiss, which had now grown deep and passionate, had short-circuited your brain and turned it into mush. You had all but forgotten the other patrons of the bar, or the taboo nature of your current actions, the only thing you were aware of right now, was the growing need you felt for him. 

He pulled himself off of you, coming up out of breath and flushed.

"It's shit, but if you want a drink, I'm sure we can make coffee in my room," he breathed, using up all of his self control not to dive in for a second kiss. You nodded eagerly, grabbing your bag and his coat so quickly you would have laughed and called yourself pathetic if you had had a clearer mind. 

You walked briskly out of the bar, Beau following right behind you. By chance, the lift doors opened and three men walked out right as you approached, letting you step into an empty elevator. As soon as the doors slid shut, Beau pushed you against the wall, caging you in with his arms around you and one knee pinned between your legs. He broke the kiss and you whined. Either he didn't hear you or he didn't care, but Beau didn't react, he simply kissed your cheek, going down to your jaw and then down your neck, peppering searing kisses against your skin, eliciting needy moans. 

He nipped at your collarbone and you let out a whiny "Please". 

He laughed. Beau opened his mouth to reply but the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Just in time, he flew off of you, stepping back into the opposite corner as two elderly women walked in. They stood right in the middle, keeping you and Beau separated. He seemed unaffected, hiding his tenting trousers with his coat while his other hand played around with a packet of cigarettes he had gotten out of his coat. He played nonchalance very well, but you were having trouble. Aside from the obvious flush and heavy breathing, you were acutely aware of your ruffled hair and blown out pupils. One good look at you and the two women would know exactly what the issue was. You weren't sure why you were so concerned that they would know, but your hand came up to smooth down your hair anyway. 

Under Beau's watchful gaze, which you could feel burning the back of your head with the same needy intensity he had displayed minutes ago, back when you were alone, you fixed your dress. Tugging at the back and smoothing the area over your ass, you then tried to stand casually, very aware of just how wet you were and ashamed that the women might know that too.

"You okay?" Beau asked, appearing behind you very suddenly. You jumped as he spoke, having bent down so he could speak into your ear, his breath feeling hot on the skin of your neck and fanning the flames of your burning desire.

"Bastard," you replied

"Watch your language, Miss," he whispered so only you could hear. The blush covering your cheeks only intensified and you tried to look down, hoping the downwards angle would hide your flush from unwanted spectators. The lift dinged again as it hit another floor and the doors opened to let in three middle aged couples. A strong hand grabbed you around the waist, fingers spreading wide to get a better surface area, and you were backed into Cyclone's warm and inviting chest. He coughed, you could feel it rumbling through his body, it sent shivers down your spine and you felt Beau smirk. 

Then, after what seemed like an agonisingly long time, the lift dinged again. You grabbed Beau's hand behind you and practically dragged him out to his room, only stopping short when you realised he had the keys. He let you in but you barely made it past the threshold before you pushed him against the wall and kissed him. 

Beau let his hands roam now that you were in the privacy of his hotel room. His fingers grazed over your legs, following the seams of your dress till he seemingly worked up the bravery to find his way under it. After some brief touches, he found the side of your panties and followed the hem around till he got to your ass. All pretence of shyness flew out the window as he grabbed a handful and groaned into your mouth. His hand flew out of your dress, finding the zip in the blink of an eye and undressing you as fast as he could, letting the soft fabric of your dress hit the floor with a gentle thud. Keen to gain the upper hand again, he pushed you off of him and against the opposite wall, caging you in again. He didn’t kiss you, instead, he stood back a little, admiring the underwear set you were wearing. A lacey red three piece set you wore to feel confident, consisting of a bra, crotchless panties and a garter belt holding up your thighs. 

“Fuck me,” he chuckled, “Fuck me,” he repeated, breathlessly. His arms fell by his side as he took a step back to get a better look at the ensemble. 

“Happily,” you answered, making him look back at you in stunned silence, like, despite having gotten you undressed, he didn’t expect that that would be where the evening was going. 

And to be fair, he hadn’t really thought this far. In fact, he didn’t really seem able to think at all, and he was glad you seemed to be able to. Beau looked at you, feeling very much like he had died and gone to heaven, and watched you frown. You grabbed his tie, dragging him closer to you. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Admiral,” you said in a sultry tone, “How about I fix that?” removing his tie in one swift motion.

Your fingers made quick work of his shirt, unbuttoning it with unparalleled efficiency and then of his trousers, letting the lot fall to the floor right next to your dress. You sank down to your knees and looked up, that simple action eliciting another groan from Beau, which was swiftly cut off when you leant in and ran your lips against the outline of his boxer shorts. His eyes fluttered shut, one hand coming to rest against the wall in front of him in an effort to keep himself upright. He felt your hands bring his underwear down, revealing his length. 

You let out a giggle as it accidentally bumped against your lips and Beau looked down, seeing you look up with hungry, blown out pupils and a smile on your face, his rock hard member hiding the centre of your face. You winked at him and moved, wrapping your pretty lips around the tip of his cock and licking the sensitive part of it. Cyclone let out a moan which seemingly spurred you on as you took on more of his cock, til he felt himself hit the back of your throat and your lips wrapped around the base of his dick. You gagged after a moment, tears forming in your eyes and when you came back up, you looked absolutely wrecked.

“Use me,” you whispered, popping him out of your mouth to speak, and Beau seriously wondered if this wasn’t all a dream. His brain didn’t seem to think so, though, because one of his hands automatically moved to grab a handful of your hair. You opened your mouth wide to encourage him, but Beau didn’t need it. Steadying you with his hand, he started fucking himself into your mouth at a leisurely pace, giving you time to adjust to a more comfortable position. 

Beau had always thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world, ever since you first stepped in his office, but he had to admit that while you looked gorgeous all made up, there was something to be said for the way you looked right then, with mascara streaking down your cheeks, lipstick smudged, and your lovely manicured fingers holding his thighs as he thrust himself in and out of your mouth at a quickening pace. He was getting closer to his high with every thrust and it took all of his self control not to allow himself to spill his cum inside your mouth. 

“Bed,” he said, pulling himself out of your mouth. You pouted but obeyed, jogging over to his king sized bed with an impatient smile. Beau went over to his suitcase, zipping a pocket open and pulling out a condom. You waited for him on the sheets, legs spread open so he could see your aching core. 

Moments later, the bed dipped in front of you. He kneeled down between your legs for a second before allowing his fingers to rub against your sensitive nub for a few seconds before travelling down and gathering up some of your slick. He watched it glisten in the yellow light of the hotel room before popping his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean, eliciting a needy moan from you. He then dropped to his elbows, pulling you forward towards his mouth as he threw your legs over his shoulders. Beau gently kissed the sides of your thighs, keeping eye contact with you and smirking when you whimpered and whined. Eventually, after a few more seconds of torture, he parted your lips with his tongue and explored until he found your sensitive nub. Closing his lips around it, he gently suckled, taking care to lick it at the same time until he could feel you getting closer. Your hips bucked in his face, desperate for something more than he was giving you and he smiled against your cunt. Beau held you down with both his hands, determined to have you come on his face and you did moments later with a moan he was certain the neighbours heard. 

He let you gently come down from your high before making his way back up your body for a kiss. While all the other ones had been eager and impatient, this one was more passionate and slow, Beau took his time to enjoy how your lips moved against his, how your tongue felt as it battled his for dominance. He lined himself up with you, gently pressing his member into your core. Once inside, he stilled for a moment and then thrust in and out in slow, careful movements. Beau tried to stay concentrated, savouring every noise you made and keen to make this last as long as possible but his orgasm was fast approaching. He lifted himself up til he was kneeling down, his hand travelled to your core, rubbing your clit until he felt you tighten against him, your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the sound of your orgasm. The added pressure sent him over the edge and he spilled his seed into the condom with a loud groan. 

Eventually, he pulled out of you. Tying the condom at the base and throwing it out before joining you in the shower, the hot water washing over you as you kissed. You didn’t want the evening to end, but as the clock struck midnight and the day ended with one last Frankie song floating through the open window, you fell asleep, wrapped in Beau’s arms. 

He laid awake a little longer, fighting against sleep in order to enjoy the moment a little longer before finally losing his battle and closing his eyes as Frank sang: 

"In the wee small hours of the morning

While the whole wide world is fast asleep

You lie awake and think about the girl

And never, ever think of counting sheep"

#fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #fanfiction #original fic #beau cyclone simpson #cyclone simpson #cyclone smut #cyclone #beau simpson smut #beau simpson #beau simpson x reader

[borderlinebelle]

Humble Public Service Annountment: Quit your toxic job, if you are able to! Don’t stay because they “need you”. They don’t care about you. I genuinely do though, and I want you to be appreciated and at peace.

I JUST PUT IN MY 2 WEEKS AT MY NONPROFIT JOB WHERE THE ENTIRE HR DEPARTMENT QUIT AS WELL AS THE ENTIRE MARKETING DEPARTMENT… as well as 4 other Development associates in my 8 months… it was shockingly horrifying guys.. the eye widening story times i could .. i plan to share on my page and my live streams in the coming weeks…

😈 buckle up you beautiful berky bitches…

if you’ve been following my tumblr live…

… you’ve seen me literally deteriorating with every stream. No exaggeration: I was dying slowly and on camera.

I’ve lost 10+lbs, not sleeping more than 4 hours, big under eye luggage, weeping on camera on times, pacing my bedroom, and just living with a new crushing work anxiety✨

This job has been a WILD ride and between the nonprofit corruption and horrifying stories of upper management… I’d been beaten down to a new low.

I’m so genuinely happy to share:

I’ve accepted a NEW position and plan to start April 14th as well as taking a week off before I start!

Which means I’ll be COMING BACK TO LIFE aka practicing intentional self-care, therapy sessions on deck, sharing some of my journey using all my favorite platforms: streaming on tumblr live, creating content for my YouTube channel, and generally beginning to thrive again! 🥹

I’m FINALLY GOING TO GET THOSE YOUTUBE VIDEOS DONE 🥲 can you even fucking imagine? After a 2 year hiatus 😦

pretty please consider following my tumblr, youtube channel, or my tumblr live streams ☺️

i just looking for and genuinely enjoy human connection :)

you and me… we can becoming … sweet lovingly little mutuals as I rebuild my sense of SELF and purge the toxicity I’ve been swimming through.

I’m always seeking new humans to befriend! 🥹

if you read this far, wow, i appreciate you deeply. message me the secret code word “bootyhole” on tumblr for a nonhole surprise! 😈

#panic! at the nonprofit #choose your own adventure #work burnout #black content creator #quit your job #carefree black girl #finally free #personal #tumblr live #live streaming #recovery #beautiful black women #self care

[bomberqueen17]

a week

hoo boy it has been A Week.

i keep thinking that i haven't worked all that hard this week really, but then i think about what's been going on, and like, yeah ok, i have done a lot. i've been really really tired every night. i've had almost no free time. i thought about going to see the barbie movie since everyone is, but i really truly simply just did not have time. behind the cut is just me sort of loosely recounting this week, minus the hospital adventures. (My finger is healed, if weirdly itchy in one spot, and I've got four more days of antibiotics about it?)

i spent time every day over at dude's aunt's house with his mom. i hadn't thought she'd need me thursday but then she texted to ask when i was coming, lolsob, so i got my laundry hung out and went over. i just hadn't asked, and i had assumed she'd mention it, and had built it up that i was going to get stuff done for myself that day. but then i didn't. i only went over there for a couple of hours, but it wore me out.

today we were only there for maybe an hour, not quite, and dude came too and we got a bunch of stuff removed. i keep not quite believing there's more. but there's more. there's always more.

i spent thursday afternoon and all but about an hour and a half of friday cleaning my own basement. and my own basement is not nearly so good. it's awful actually. there's so much shit that i put away not very carefully and it's wrecked now and honestly why was i keeping it anyway, and i need to just-- get rid of it, and i don't.... know... how... it's exhausting.

and i know, I know! what would make it so much easier, is that so much of the shit I have hoarded, not to put too fine a point on it, is stuff I want to use to make things, and if I just had like. IDK like maybe a week, let's say. During which I could just. Lay out and work on a bunch of projects with no other obligations. I know what would happen is I would realize that a lot of these carefully-hoarded things I've set aside to craft with are garbage really and my time would be better spent working with better materials. And then I'd throw them out! I know this sounds like wishful thinking but it has actually happened several times, I think I'm finally good enough at the things I want to do as hobbies that I feel able to let go of things that haven't worked, let go of things that aren't ideal, etc. We found out where all the textile recycling places are while clearing out Auntie's dragon-hoard of fabrics, and now I know, and I could let stuff go to that, I know I could. They take old shoes! I could do it.

I just don't have the time, which is frustrating. And so a lot of the cleaning I did is just rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. but those deck chairs are rearranged now, and the crucial thing is that when the movers come to take away our broken dryer and poorly-functioning washing machine, and give us Auntie's working ones instead (her washer is even OLDER than my nearly-unusable one from the 70s, it's kind of amazing, but ilke, you know what, why not, it would be amazing not to have to stand there holding the knob down the whole time it fills) they will be able to get in and out easily and we won't be paying them $225/hr to shimmy around my piles of junk. The front of the basement is now just like. Well I even mopped the floor, ok, so, if that means anything.

It doesn't, except to me. But there it is.

I am so tired. We got the guest bed taken apart; we're getting a fold-out couch in there instead, from Auntie's house, so that the room is more usable as an office. We'd been discussing that change for a long time. I was dreading to find out what's under that bed but it turns out almost nothing, refreshingly. Two strange boxes that contain things my sister left there when she lived in that house in 2007, but apart from that, just a whole lot of dust. Now that that's cleaned up, probably Dude's allergies will be better actually.

I knocked off work at 4:30 pm and took a shower and then we went out to dinner, and I made dude come for a walk with me around a local park, to do a Pokemon Go thing. He was amused. I asked him if he was having fun and he said "I have put myself into a place where I am enjoying this" which is familiar, honestly; I do that all the time. I realize a thing is just what's happening so I decide that I'm going to enjoy that however I can manage to, and usually it works.

I did get a tiny bit of writing done this morning, too, so there's that. But mostly this week was spent going through things and clearing out Dude's aunt's house. And that's what it is.

I'm headed back to the farm tomorrow. I need to work out how to cram things into my car effectively. I believe in myself. It'll be fine.

I'm so tired, and it's a chicken week coming up so I need to get my shit together. It'll be fine. I'm fine. God I could really use a whole day just-- mostly in bed. Wouldn't that be something! No I'd get too anxious. But a day reading. OMG Martha Wells put a new book out like a month ago and I haven't even bought it. Haven't even read an excerpt or summary. Haven't even looked at it. What would it be like to have time for that!

Someday.

#about the author #whining #hoarding #what i'm up to #misc

[moononmyfloor]

I made a Baidiequn as well!

This time I didn't follow any guides but the memory of making the Mamianqun, but now I can tell you what the heck I was doing because this time I wasn't as lost and new as the first time!

Important: Don't take this as a word to word guide, I'm no sewing expert and I'm very bad at following instructions myself. I'm only sharing what I did.

1. This time the fabric was lighter and crisper than the mamianqun one. So yay for that! I washed it and sun dried it first, because some fabrics tend to shrink after washing and better not risk any deformation after I've made the whole thing.

2. Then I considered the width I want the belt to be, and chopped a horizontal strip of that size off the fabric.

3. Then I decided to sew the hemlines. I thought it would be much easier to get that over with, than struggling to sew a consistent line after all the pleats are done and the skirt is unwieldy.

Now, don't quote me on this, but I thought if the hems are wide, it'll help the final result to be neater. Because I've had dresses with barely there hems get twisted and undone after multiple washes and wear. So I made all three (bottom and 2 sides) hems an inch wide each so they would remain flat and compliant of the numerous pleats to come.

4. Now onwards to the pleating hell! I got fed up with pinning one pleat after the other, and unlike a Mamianqun which only had two separate bundles of tiny pleats at the sides, a Baidiequn has tiny pleats throughout its length! And there was 2 and half meters of fabric to go so I just went ahead and started sewing, pushing the pleated fabric underneath the needle as I went with the help of a protractor I had nearby.

It went surprisingly well though! And the colors were SO SO BEAUTIFUL, it felt like a dream, incredibly satisfying to see it take form in front of my eyes.

5. Let me tell you, pleated skirts are a void of length! Before I knew it, the 2 and half meters had dissappeared and turned out it wasn't enough! And I have a tiny waist to begin with! Initially I planned for a baidiequn with pleats throughout, but I had to unpleat the front lapel and the lapel beneath it to gain more volume. Very sad times. I had to give up on the pleat-pocket trick that I used for the mamianqun as well.

6. Pleats done, now the time to attach the belt. I attached the strip of fabric I initially cut off, first from the underside of the skirt, then folding it over on to the good side and closing it off. (I hope you understand what I'm saying haha)

The idiotic thing I did was though, as you can see I left a good portion of the skirt inside the belt.

I thought it would give strength to the belt lmao. Only later I realised "Hoo boy, it gonna be a pain to wash, dry and iron this belt" It's CHUNKY now. Not recommended. However it's quite cusion-like around my waist now?😆

7. Finally, the tie. I didn't use a tie for mamianqun so I've been wanting to try it anyway, also I thought now the front portion of the skirt is flat due to unpleating, a tie-decoration would make it look nicer.

8. All done! It took like 4 hrs. With less idiocy and more planning, it would probably take even lesser time.

.

If you promise to not judge, here's me wearing it!🤭 Night had fallen when I finished it, and the artificial lighting only highlighted the imperfections. It doesn't look as pretty as in the photos above! :(

Anyway, lessons learnt. So that's something, right?

.

More posts by me

#Baidiequn #hanfu #dress making #personal #sewing #traditional Chinese clothing

[taycpastudies]

8/29/23

I’m finished!!!!!! Sort of.

I skipped a bunch of multiple choice questions in unit 4 and the second mini exam (planning to go back to them after my final review) so it’s throwing off my % complete, but I’m officially through all the “new” content!

Tomorrow (or rather, later today) I’ll start the final review book/lectures! It’s only 12 hrs of lectures vs 31 hours of the main course, and since none of it will be new content, hopefully I can get through it all in 3 days.

Really hoping that my exam goes super well next week…. if I walk out and feel good about it, I’m going to immediately start studying for the next one (last one!) and try to take it around October 29ish. But if I take this exam next week and feel bad about it, I’ll just keep studying for this one and push the next one off until this one is done.

🩵🩵🩵

#cpa exam #studyblr #cpa #study blog #studyspo #studying #business student #taycpa

[ohgodnotagainn]

girl in a coffee shop preview

summary → 4 times bob recommended a drink + 1 time he recommended something else.

a/n → i'm hoping to get this cutie done and posted by the end of tomorrow, but here's a little sneak peak in the meantime. i'm really loving how it's coming out - barista bob has me in his clutches - and i'm so excited to share the rest with you all. if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist let me know.

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A month had passed since your first visit and the tattered blue armchair by the fireplace was now your spot. Sure, it wasn’t written anywhere, but you were there for hours everyday like clockwork. It was common knowledge and the other regulars respected it as your territory, sometimes even going as far as leaving a jacket in place to make sure it was vacant when you arrived.

You always sat there because it was the comfiest chair, you liked the warmth that came from the fireplace, and the internet connection in that specific part of the cafe was the strongest.

You definitely didn’t always sit there because you had a stellar - and discreet - view of the bar.

Okay, maybe you did. 

But if you couldn’t actually be with Bob, there was no harm in looking, right? How could you resist a few glances here and there when his hands looked that good moving expertly around the bar?

Yeah, that was going with you to the grave.

It had been a busy morning and there was not an empty chair or table in sight. The crowd was overtaking your space and through your headphones you could hear how loud it was getting. Even the internet was struggling to keep up with the traffic. 

The most recent batch of photos was in the process of exporting and with how slow it was moving, you knew it was going to be a while.

You didn’t mind much, though. You could allow yourself generous looks at Bob without worrying so much about being caught - everyone behind the bar too preoccupied with the rush at hand to notice - and there was no guilt around being distracted from your own workload.

Without warning, Bob’s eyes snapped up and met your gaze.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. 

You had been caught red-handed, but your eyes stayed locked on his and you nodded at the freshly vacated chair next to yours in a silent invitation. The only way out of the embarrassment now was through, you had to pretend this was the plan all along.

Bob wanted nothing more than to join you in your corner, but there was a hoard of tickets still waiting to be made and Jake was scheduled to take his break first. With an exaggerated look of  disappointment, he held up a cup in one hand and a pitcher in the other, shrugging his shoulders as a way to politely decline your invitation. 

You nodded in understanding, but he didn’t miss the dejected look in your eyes as they dropped back to the laptop screen. 

God damnit. He was grateful that his business was flourishing, but he finally had a chance and he was barred from taking it. 

Unbeknownst to him, Rooster had seen the entire exchange. 

“Hey man, I got bar so you can take your break,” he stated, leaving little room for argument.

“Oh, uh, I actually think Hangman is supposed to break first today,” Bob responded, eyes downcast and sadness laced in his tone.

Jake was quick to interject, “Yeah! I’m starving and I opened so if anyone is going on break its -” 

He was cut off by Bradley’s elbow making sharp contact with his stomach.

“Nope! It’s Bob. Here’s a slice of banana bread big enough for two, do with it what you will.” Bradley winked, shoving a plate in Bob’s hands and shooing him away from the counter. 

Hangman grumbled, still doubled over and cradling his stomach, “We really need an HR department.”

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taglist:

@fogle97 @wkndwlff @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @abaker74 @starlightstories @aviatorobsessed @accioprocrastination @shanimallina87 @roostette @cassiemitchellrecs @waklman @cherrycola27 @nuvoleincielo @roosterbruiser @mayhemmanaged @genius2050 @dempy @dakotakazansky

#topgunfanfiction #topgunbob #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fluff #Spotify

[waterstar2016]

This is a personal post. I am sharing my experience to show others how much a comment can hurt. This situation happened at work.

Over the last year, I have been on a weight loss journey. We are all a result of our experiences. I had an emotional and physically abusive mother who called me fat, ugly and stupid from the time I was 9 to when my father finally found out about the abuse and kicked her out when I was 18. This woman, who was supposed to be my mother, arranged a marriage for me when I was barely 17…to a 50 year old man in Barbados, because I wouldn’t be able to find a husband.

I have had more abusive realationships than I have had good ones with men. Narcissistic, emotional and one even physically abusive.

I managed a retirement home during COVID and almost killed myself because I was caring more about others than myself.

I gained weight.

These reasons aren’t excuses. They are the facts of life that I had to deal with.

These facts are that my blood pressure was through the roof. My resting HR was well into the danger zone. I could have died.

Over the last year I have lost 70lbs. I want to lose about that much more. I have cried, sweated and injured myself (not on purpose or even by working to hard…shit just happens), all in the hopes to get my health back.

At work we have a new majority shareholder. Not my boss, but still a major part of my work environment.

I get taken out to lunch with my other coworker and what does this man say as I am eating? “Have you always been a bigger girl?”

I was so shocked I couldn’t react. I was frozen. I am in a public restaurant while a man that doesn’t know me is telling me to lose weight.

I managed to hold it together for the rest of the meal. I did not say anything. I kept myself professional.

That unprofessional, uncalled for bullshit has made me cry for the last day.

Those few insensitive words brought back that little voice in my head that says “you’re fat, you’re ugly” screaming to the surface.

I was just starting to feel better about myself even though I have more weight to lose. Guess what. I’m fucking trying.

I have been single for 4 years because I have been trying to ‘find myself’ again after a 14 year off and on emotionally abusive relationship.

I only recently started to dip my toes back in the dating pool and might even be going on a date in the near future.

I want to hide. I want to punch my pillow. I want to scream.

I will not let this destroy me or the work I have done. I will get over it.

I do however, need to pick up the pieces of my shattered confidence and put them back together.

I am sharing this for transparency. I am sharing this because I am a believer of body positivity. I am sharing this because maybe someone else is going through something similar…

You’re not alone.

The sad thing is…is that I know I’m not either.

Jenn

#personal #mental health #bullying #safe workspace

[cooganbegs-blog]

Everyone gets a second chance apparently. A first and final warning has been administered as well as disciplinary action.

- Mandated 4 day work week to sort shit and life out

- must seek help for apparent mental issues on a weekly or fortnightly basis

- must undergo bullying and sexual harassment training

- is not allowed to consume alcohol at all with employees or customers in any circumstance

The final straw was the recent industry event we hosted where the disgusting and quite frankly sackable behaviour was exhibited. The execs tried to make it out as an alcohol fuelled one-off aberration…..this denial was the spark that lit the bushfire.

I considered leaving. Another hive, another fucking pig of a white, entitled and power drunk male (and one female to be true). Something snapped in me when I heard the raft of stories that started to leak out across the leadership team level and the exec level. But everyone was too scared to speak up. The unpredictable, bullying and aggressive behaviour has left everyone running scared of his retribution if they made a complaint.

It was time. Time to stop running, time to start to to rewire my brain which has been conditioned since birth to be terrified of entitled men and let them have their way. Enough.

And so, I made the initial report. A landslide followed. Years of pent up fear and rage and disgust and frustration. This they could not ignore.

A female exec who had refused to have a 1:1 for over 6 months and has resigned and made no secret of the reasons why she is resigning

An exec who was made redundant after years of bullying

The account director who was physically stood over and threatened and regularly abused for being “stupid”

The head of marketing who had her personal life dissected and advise on her sex life administered loudly and publically at a industry function

The technical sales manager who had her HR record pulled up on his phone at an industry event and read out in front of other staff and customers

The list was exhaustive, enormous, crossed genders and levels of the business: bullying, sexual harassment and aggression.

I’m tired. So tired.

A report was compiled and anonymised, sent to the owner, the board and the person in question. It’s done and apparently over now. Everyone is shocked bla bla bla.

There’s some part of me that acknowledges that everyone deserves a second chance. But the rest of me is tired of these people getting away with this shit. Do I think for one fucking second that anyone else in the company would have lasted years behaving like this in any other role?? Abso-fucking-lutely NOT. And they definitely would have been sacked, not given a fucking warning.

There’s one other niggle. I report to the CTO and so went to home with my concerns and his response, on reflection is concerning. He was of course horrified but also mentioned that he’d seen some poor treatment for some members of the exec team but nothing to the extent that I was talking about, and he had never been treated with anything but respect. Why didn’t he call out this behaviour? His silence enabled this shit to go on. His silence made it ok for it to continue. What the fuck is going on at the exec level that they aren’t holding each other to account?? Seriously. His silence makes him complicit .

Justice has to be seen to be done, not worked around because of a job title.

[nevadas-night-time-novelist]

Main 4 - Date night

Mildly suggestive with Sanford

Hank

-He initially stops when you ask him to plan a date for you, he’s absolutely stumped on ideas and doesn’t have a damn clue where to start.

-His love comes in silent acts of service, he can hunt down snacks you like, clean your weapons, find you plenty of ammunition and clothes he’ll think you’ll like, but actually going out somewhere was unsettling to him. He’s a marked man after all, if he takes you to the wrong place at the wrong time, this sweet soirée into a shoot out.

-Picking out some casual clothes from his wardrobe, he finally settles on an idea, simplicity is best in his mind. He knows of a desolate place with an amazing view of the hellscape, why not take his favourite person to his favourite place.

-Rolling up on a motorbike, he greets you in a hushed tone as he eyes your current outfit, casual and comfortable as he’d advised. “You.. Look very nice.” He presses his metal jaw against your soft lips, the only way he could really kiss at this point, a gesture still appreciated nonetheless.

-“Hold on tight,” He traces his hands across your arms that embrace his waist before grabbing the handlebars and speeding across the shattered roads, weaving back and forth to avoid potholes and deep gashes in the tarmac.

-He’d been at the spot earlier, setting up a cute picnic lit by candles, it was awfully romantic for a man who is absolutely clueless when it comes to romance.

-But he’s not yet finished, pulling out his guitar case and a bunch of roses from a rock. “Roses? Those still grow out here?!” He gets bashful as he hands them over, one hand rubbing behind his neck. “Friend.. of a…. friend grows them. Don’t know how.”

-He sits next to you and begins to play his guitar, you can’t say you recognise the tune, and then he beings singing. He wrote a song about you, every little thing you do that makes him weak for you, how he longs to be with you until the day you both expire, and even then the hopes that in some afterlife your souls would be bound together.

-Even as the sky’s red hue fades into cold inky black he sits beside you, arm draped over your form and clinging you tightly to him. Not bad for someone who’s never done this before.

2BDamned

-He has virtually no free time, his job is very pressuring of course, but he manages to pull some strings, just for you. Sending his boys out for a mission, pushing his admin work onto the Fellows “Just this once, I promise. I will return the favour.”

-Sending off a quick message to his partner, he gets a reply that sends butterflies to his stomach. [ETA 2 HRS. Can’t wait to see you :)] For a man that’s seen shit that’s steeled his resolve, you can turn him into putty easily, and though he would never admit it, he loves it.

-Two hours and counting down, he knows he can get things ready. Ambience, he tosses a clean red tablecloth over the wooden dinner table, adorning it with candles. Rarely does he cook, but you’re special.

-His heart flutters as the door opens and you call out. “I’m back boys,” Had two hours really gone by that fast? He didn’t even get time to make himself look presentable. “It’s just me here darling,” He took off his mask and goggles and left them on the counter, opting to unravel his bandages on the way to greet you.

-With the others gone, his hardy exterior would dissolve and he would allow that hidden softer side to come out, he ensnared you in his arms and peppered your face in kisses. “Miss me that much?” “Always do my love.” “Are you ready to debrief or-” He shut you up with a long kiss on the lips. “We can do that later,” His fingers ran through your hair and he smiled. “come, let’s get you clean and changed.”

-Pushing off his usual protocol, he definitely missed you, emphasised only with his reluctance you let you out of his sight again. “That smells heavenly, how much longer will it be?” You remarked as you passed the kitchen and to your shared bedroom. “About fifteen minutes, give or take.” “That’s plenty of time to get cleaned up, c'mere,” He didn’t protest as you dragged him into the bathroom.

-It was near impossible to get some time with just the two of you, and you would both savour it as much as possible. Plus he looked pretty rough and smelled so he could use a wash too. His roughed up hands were tender as they brushed dirt and dust from your wet hair. He always admired how you kept it in good condition, unlike his own which he’d shave if it got too long.

-Now clean and dry, he tossed on a pair of sweatpants and white vest, his typical sleeping/lazy attire and parted with a kiss. “I’m going to make sure dinner isn’t burnt,” He half joked with a soft chuckle.

-The rest of the night is quiet, dishes piled in the sink and ignored, Doc just cuddles you close as you both lounge on the bed.

Sanford

-This man loves a lot of things, cooking, beer, fighting, you, exercise. Inevitably he drags you off to a gym date, always eager to work on his gains and impress you. And see you work up a sweat trying to keep pace with him. Don’t. You won’t.

-Equal parts obnoxious and encouraging. “C'mon baby, a few hundred more and you might start looking like me, haha! You’re doin so well.” He’s never one to do things halfheartedly, and that extends to loving you too.

-He lets you take as many breaks as you want, making sure you’re still having fun and keeping hydrated.

-Even if you’re sitting out he’s still going, bantering away while lifting weights. “I’m gonna be so good at cuddling after this, don’t ya think babe? Come feel my biceps, you can practically see ‘em gettin’ bigger.”

-He is absolutely showboating for you, and it makes his heart swell with pride when you can’t tear your eyes off him. That attention fills his thirst like no water could.

-He is going to push you to your limits, no pain no gain, right? He sits with his hands on your knees to hold you steady while performing sit ups. Each time you manage to push yourself up is rewarded with a quick kiss.

-Cool down consists of yoga / stretching, and Ford keeps making suggestive comments to get you flustered, grinning all the while. “Hey I didn’t know you could bend like that, do you think you cou-” You jab him in the ribs.

-Afterwards he takes you to Burger Gil’s and yall both undo the calorie burning you’d just done. Who doesn’t deserve a little post workout treat?

Deimos

-“So I’ve heard of this underground place I wanna take you to. You’re gonna love it, trust me.” He kept details short, constantly reassuring that you’ll enjoy yourself.

-He was right about it being underground, but literally, not figuratively. The underground arcade was bursting with other people eagerly kicking back and gaming.

-He 100% knows how to rig games in your favour, catch him quickly ducking down with a screwdriver and fixing the claw machines so you’ll win every time. You are going to get that elephant plushie no matter what.

-Watch tf out because the staff are giving you funny looks. He decides to purposely lose a few games to avoid suspicion. “S'alright darlin’, I’ll get you some more when the heat is off us, 'kay?” The last thing you want is to be kicked out of this haven.

-Dei is trying to hold back but his competitive spirit keeps coming out, he wants to make sure you have fun too but he also wants to crush you in every dual player game. He however sucks at table air hockey, and you thrash him game after game.

-Que the fake pouts. “Awe you didn’t have to destroy me that hard darlin’, c'mon show some mercy.” Give this man an inch and he’ll take a mile, he’s going to rub his victories in your face, only seems fair to rub it in back. “No chance in hell Dei.”

-And he proceeds to beat you at every game following that, smugly grinning all the while. His hand-eye coordination is something special, he’s very dexterous. If he’s getting too much he will pick up on it and cool off a bit, will absolutely rig more machines and add to the rapidly growing pile of plushies he’s won to make it up to you.

-Despite all his winnings, at the end he’ll toss an arm over your shoulder, cover you in kisses and sweetly say. “You got all those toys, 'n I’m still holdin’ the best prize in this place.”

#madness combat #madcom #madness combat x reader #madcom x reader #madness combat reader insert #madcom reader insert #x gon deliver to ya #hank #hank j wimbleton #hank x reader #sanford #sanford x reader #deimos #deimos x reader #2BDamned #2BDamned x reader