#“keep your hands to yourself” the pot calling the kettle black

[silverfoxphil]

grabs you hits you eats you bites you grabs you grabs you grabs you

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can we get a doctor phosphorus X reader where the reader has power similar to Deadpool. Example of unable to die and sometimes has ability to pull things out of thin air for comedic effect

You were a curious case to most, from your inability to die, to your unique ability to seemingly pull things that people needed out of thin air as though by pure coincidence. When asked about how you did what you did, you merely shrugged your shoulders - you sipped a drink you plucked out of thin air through a silly straw- and replied with something that only left the rest of the monsters even more confused;

‘Plot convenience and comedic effect for the audience reading this fanfic that author took far too long to actually get to writing.’

Many left you alone after that, deducing you a tad mentally unstable, all but Dr Phosphorus who also thrived off of the chaos and unpredictable nature that you brought to every situation you found yourself in. He found comradery in you and your ability to piss of basically everyone by getting under their skin, even him at times but he knows when to laugh with you as while everything that came from your mouth might sound insulting, that’s just how you came across and it only takes someone with a likemindedness to understand when you were being genuine or not.

Dr Phosphorus remembered the first time you interacted with one another when you scared him by accident, making him grab your shoulder with his exposed radiated hand, thinking you’ll die a violent death but imagine his surprise when you only shrug his hand off to reveal a healing shoulder where his hand once was. ‘Is it hot in here or is it just you? Oh who am I kidding it is you because of your…yeah.’ You said as you gestured to all of him and while he couldn’t smile since he was a literal skeleton, he couldn’t help but chuckle at your words now that the initial scare was over.

‘Oh you’re the wise ass who thought it’d be funny to scare the irradiated Skelton?’ Dr phosphorus says as he crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he took you in and the burnt cloth at your shoulder from his touch, your skin however -now fully healed at this point- looked untouched as though he wasn’t close enough to even hurt you. ‘Who are you newbie, I would think that I would remember a person like you.’ He adds with an almost flirtatious purr.

You smiled as you offered out your hand. ‘Of course you wouldn’t as I was hauled off here just this morning, but for the sake of keeping this fanfic a reasonable length as to prevent the possibility of stretching the readers attention span too thin, I killed a bunch of bad guys and lost a couple of limbs in the process.’ You said as though it wasn’t as big of a deal as it would be to others, ‘people were screaming, I was screaming. and here I am being called a freak, monster and whatever even by people who should probably look in the mirror before saying shit. It’s like the pot calling the kettle black.’ You finished.

Dr phosphorus looked at you then back down at your hand before looking back at you once more, amused. ‘I’d take your hand sweetheart, but I don’t want to hurt you…again.’

‘Oh then take these gloves.’ You said.

‘What gloves-‘

‘These silly!’ You exclaimed as you shoved a pair of irradiation proof gloves against dr phosphorus’s chest.

‘How did you-‘ dr phosphorus tried to ask, only to then decide that logic wasn’t all that important to you when you seemingly worked outside of logic as a person, logic and sound decisions didn’t exist within you, and it shows in the most subtlest ways that one wouldn’t notice unless they were paying attention as to how you seemingly controlled an unforeseen narrative to your very will.

‘How did I what?’ You asked.

‘Pull shit out of thin air.’ Dr phosphorus replied as he slides the gloves over his hands.

‘Plot convenience and comedic effect for the them.’ You then pointed towards a part of the room, almost as though gesturing to an audience , only for there to be no one there at all but cold walls. You two were the only ones in the room and dr phosphorus thought he was the only mentally unstable one in this facility. ‘Who are we looking at sweets?’ Dr phosphorus says as he tried to see what you were seeing, but all he could see was the cold walls that he was far too familiar with then the outside of the very structure he was trapped within, which sounded sad but to his knowledge no sane mind would blink twice at the mistreatment of a monster.

‘The audience reading this very fan fic.’ You informed him with a smile before seeing that he had put on the gloves and boldly grabbed his hand, making the skeleton jolt as he then relaxed when remembering he did put on the gloves. ‘But never mind them, it’s good to meet you dr phosphorus.’ You add as though knowing his name without him telling you was all apart of your character and dr phosphorus had to say that he was liking you more and more you spoke.

‘I don’t think I disclosed that to you sweetheart, but it’s good to meet you too.’ He chuckled and in that moment he knew that your relationship was going to be unlike any other. And he was right.

There would be times where all of you were gathered in the cafeteria, where one of the monsters nudged past you rather rudely while sneering at you. You were use to this as technically while you had abilities that went beyond human comprehension, you were still the closest thing to being a human in comparison to those who had physical appearance that screamed monster.

‘Watch where you’re going human.’ They’d spit at you venomously.

You only smiled back at them while Dr Phosphorus looked between the two of you from the sidelines along with everyone else. ‘Someone who’s going to get bitchslapped by a fish says what.’

The bat like creature scrunched up their face. ‘What-‘ before they could finish their sentence, they were then smacked across the face with a fish rather violently as they were sent to the floor. They hold a hand to their cheek, clearly unaware of what had just happened along with the rest of the room, before looking at your hand that was once empty now was grasping the tail a dead fish the length of your arm; which explained the disgusting smell that soon hit their senses a second after they realised that they were hit in the face with a dead fish.

‘Where did you get that thing?!’ They’d spit exclaimed but you shrugged.

‘That’s on a need to know basis.’ You replied as you shoved the fish into the hands of a gargoyle like being as you took your place next to dr phosphorus, who had been trying to hold back his laughter but couldn’t when you were close enough if g for him to ask. ‘A fish? That’s what you come up with when insulated?!’ He wheezed. You shrugged ‘thought you would like the image of someone getting slapped with a fish and so I went with it.’ You explained as though it was something that happened on a daily basis for you.

‘Well it was definitely a sight to behold for not just me sweetheart.’ Dr phosphorus tells you as you both carried on with your day, all the while everyone else could only watch as the irradiated skeleton and you continue your conversation before being joined by weasel who had the fish firmly liked in his jaw.

[lipsent]

݁˖  COIN MACHINE !  ⨯   ──   g.satoru  x f.reader . . .      ╲   the  coin  machine  stops  working  at  the  arcade  and  you and  your  friend  aren’t  finished  playing.  luckily  a  tall   stranger  with  a  heaping  basket  of  coins  catches  your   eye,  and  you  seem  to  catch  his,  too.

wc.  2k . . .  tags.     nsfw (18+),   car  sex,   gojo  being  half  a  gentleman    —  so sorry it ends abruptly, this is my secret santa to @goxjo!!! I’ve held back your gift for far too long and I’m so sorry for that, I’m currently sick and in a foreign country so I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to post this if not now. If you’d like me to write more, I will gladly do so. I hope this suffices for now. Merry Christmas Aki!! I hope you enjoy <33 for the @pixelcafe-network secret santa event !

“Look’it you.”

His hands slid from your waist to the expanse of your ass. His gaze—much like his head—tilted up to meet your gaze as a pool of warmth began to rise from where you sat on his lap. The driver’s seat was certainly the place to be with one Gojo Satoru.

He rolled his lips to dampen it then turned to the side and looked out his car window.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you for even a second, however, eyeing you up and down again. “You sure you don’t wanna head back to your folks’?”

You kept your hands on his shoulders, even scrunching up the fabric on your palm when he couldn’t decide between your two eyes.

It almost seemed timed by the man before you, the way it had only begun to snow a few days ago and now you’ve met the cutest guy who seemed to have brought on the snow himself. When you brush your fingers on his jaw, the tips grazed what you were convinced were strands of snowflakes from his head.

His car had begun to match him with a white coat over it since he had been parked just outside your house for a few minutes now.

“I’m sure that’s not what you sent me here for,” you replied cheekily. Or at least you thought you were even with that grin pinning your cheeks.

“Oh, that’s just a bonus sweetheart,” he said in a lowered voice that drew out a little bit more of himself than before; a kind of slippery fervor that you had somehow coerced from his tongue.

Deciding he’d had enough of your prying eyes, he leaned into your ear and his breath swirled around the shell.

“But we both know you’d like that now, wouldn’t you?”

You leaned back as your brows furrowed. “You were the one making eyes at me at the arcade.”

A snicker left his relaxed grin. “If that’s the story you choose to tell yourself, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“I’m calling you a pot—the very same one calling the kettle black.”

He squeezed your ass and you nearly let out an audible reaction.

“Come now, don’t tell me you’re getting all coy on me after everything you pulled at the arcade.”

“And what exactly did I pull?”

His hands slid back up to your waist, as if withdrawing even just in the slightest degree.

“I don’t have to tell you what you did.” Your name slithered out from his lips and the very sound bled into your reaction.

.

“Shit!” She slammed her first onto the glass.

The sudden noise snapped you out of your trance, having you look away from the tower you had been eyeing since he’d sauntered in.

A very gorgeous tower indeed. One with white hair and crystal eyes.

You turned around to gaze back at the claw machine you had just been leaning on. “Give it up babe.”

Your half-mast eyes shot back to your friend whose eyes reflected the plush keychain they’d lost in the sea of its friends.

“That was my last coin!” Your friend whined as she grabbed the sides of the machine.

You shook your head but smiled as you pulled out your wallet from your back pocket and turned towards the direction of the coin machine.

“C’mon.”

Your friend followed behind you happily as colorful blinking lights painted spots on her skin.

“This arcade’s pretty weird, huh? Needing to put your money into a coin machine so you can play the games.”

“There’s a strategy to it. It’s more common than you’d think.”

“Right.” Your friend stared off into the distance absentmindedly, her eye catching on a pleasing sight. “Hey, babe?”

“Mm?”

“That guy’s totally checking you out.”

You looked over and sure enough, that gorgeous tower of a man stared right back at you.

His smile widened when he’d realized you looked his way.

You looked back at the coin machine and just before you could insert a bill into it, you saw an ‘out of order’ sign hanging above it.

the entire row of coin machines were out of order.

“Aw.” Your friend’s shoulders slumped. “Shall we go get a drink instead?”

But you had your eyes set on the man with snow for hair.

Specifically, on his basket.

He seemed to be sharing it with his friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind if you grabbed a few.

You made your way past the noisy arcade games, weaving through people and noises that jumped out at you before finally arriving at him.

He looked down at you and raised a brow. His brunette friend bent forward with his hands in his pockets to observe the hold up.

“The coin machine’s broken and my friend and I—we kinda wanna play more games. You guys have a basket full of coins, is there any way I could pay you for some?” You asked with a smile pinned to your blushed cheeks.

You made sure to look up at him with your eyes as much as possible; your eyes would naturally be made wider, and with eyes like that it might’ve sent the right message: this wasn’t just about the coins.

He gave you that same wide smile, all too gleeful and reassuring to be letting your guard down over.

“Sure. How about we follow you around and you and your friend can use as many coins as you want, hm?” He suggested, pushing up his circular shades.

“Cool! I’ll treat you to something after we’re done, thank you so much,” you beamed.

“We’ll see about that,” he murmured under his breath but with how handsome he was, it was impossible to miss a thing that left him.

Your friend finally came over and the four of you introduced yourselves. Having to yell over the banging noises of the whack-a-moles wasn’t the best circumstance to be introduced to your future husband, but your mind wandered far too long and far into said future that it grew softer than white noise.

So there the four of you were—exploring the arcade and wasting away at claw machines. Luckily, both Satoru and Suguru didn’t seem to have a problem with your friend’s obsession with claw machines, but they did give each other looks every now and then that you had pretended to miss. You were on a mission, and it was crucial to be innocent in an already dully innocent situation.

Time went by too quick, however, and you had missed its call completely.

“Shit.”

Your friend whipped around and blinked at you. “What?”

“That—that stupid christmas party at my place, I’m late,” you groaned, grabbing your bag from the shooting game you were about to step into.

You turned to Satoru and nearly winced. You bit your lip hadd as punishment to yourself.

“Fuck, sorry—I did really have the intention of making it up to you—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s my treat. You know what? When’s the party?”

“Three.”

It was 2:40pm.

So much for your mission.

“I’ll drive you. We’ll get there in no time.”

“I live outside the city.”

“Not a problem,” Satoru insisted again. “Really, I’ll drive you. Suguru had somewhere else to be anyway.”

He looked towards Suguru, who returned the look and nodded with a quick smile.

“Satoru’s making me do all the work in our school group project.”

Satoru punched Suguru in the shoulder and they both laughed.

“Asshole.” Satoru rolled his eyes but his smile could drown people in blizzards. “So?”

“My friend … also needs a ride …” you pointed towards her, and she stepped out of the shooting game and gave a meek smile that matched your own.

You knew you were pushing it. But before a gorgeous whore, you were first a good friend.

“Oh, sure,” Satoru nodded without hesitation. “We’ll drop your friend off first.”

.

And now you’re sitting in the driveway near your house and on top of Satoru’s lap.

“Fine. Would you prefer I make demands?”

“It would be easier for the both of us, yeah.” Satoru reached for a wallet in his pocket.

“I’m on birth control,” you blurted, eyes tracing his veiny hand and you watched as it slowly retracted into his pocket along with his wallet.

“Duly noted,” he chuckled, and his hands busied themselves on the zipper of his black pants instead.

It didn’t take long before his cock was revealed to you, and he was reclining his chair just less than an inch back for slightly more room.

When you sank down on him, his lips fell loose, thumbs digging into your flesh when he grabbed your waist like he was trying to bruise you from his grip alone.

You sat on him completely and small noises escaped as you tried to get used to the sudden stretch. Lava for blood ran from your wet lips down to your legs while your arms and hands remained iced to the tips.

“Oh, you’re just adorable like this,” he grunted, a low growl falling through the gaps as he gritted his teeth. “Merry Christmas, sweetie.”

A knuckle had already found its way to your lips, your teeth biting down like paper on pencil as you tried your best to be modest in a not-at-all modest situation.

“C’mon.” Satoru chuckled when he gently held your hand in his, peeling it away from your face as you whined.

“Let me see that pretty face of yours.”

“It’s … a little … t-tight …”

“I know, I know … does it hurt?” He kissed a trail from your jaw all the way to your shoulder then down your collarbone.

“No—ngh!”

Satoru rolled a bruising thrust into you, his tip rubbing up against your cervix as he squeezed your ass with both of his hands as if they were handles.

“Fuck,” he cursed crisply into your ear when he hunched over from the pleasure he’d inflicted. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“You’re so—ah!”

He thrusted in again and then kept up the slow rhythm with a force opposite from its pace, each wet slap dragging your heart closer to your gut as your cheeks ran hot.

“Satoru—fuck—”

“Mm, you’re already shaking—” He was cut off by his own groan as he grabbed your thighs like a lifeline, fingertips digging into your supple flesh as you clenched around him.

He had only thrusted in again when suddenly someone appeared through your front door and Satoru had the instinct of dropping his backrest flat against his backseat to hide the both of you from direct sight.

You both stayed completely silent and noisy simultaneously with your pants and his heartbeat in your ear.

“You should have drove away!” You hissed in gritted teeth.

“Why, do you want to stop?”

You made an indistinguishable noise and he only tilted his head and raised a brow at you.

“That’s not an answer, sweetheart,” Satoru cooed, the saccharine from his tone so viscuous you nearly choked on it.

You slowly rose and peered out to see where the bottom of the window met the person’s head—maybe eyes—rising too much would mean having to pull out from Satoru and you had that very deeply in mind and in other places too.

“It’s my uncle.”

“The creepy one or the one you like?”

“The creepy—wait how do you know about my uncles?”

“Every family has ‘em,” he replied as you physical felt his chest inflate with pride. “Now then.”

Satoru had somehow managed to reach down and swipe a finger against your clit. You twitched, and he tried not to wince at the sudden movement.

“Satoru!” You hissed. “He’s right there!”

“And he can’t see us. Let me guess, he’s taking a smoke right now and can’t give a rat’s ass about the fact that there’s someone parked by your driveway,” Satoru practically barked.

You shushed him, but he only rolled his hips into you causing you to squeal. He rubbed your clit in circles and something about this entiee situation had painfully turned you on even more despite the attitude you were giving him.

“Satoru,” you moaned, leg twitching from the sudden flood of stimulation.

“Do you want me to drive away, princess?” He twirled the little petname around his tongue as he snickered.

[jinxposting]

Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 7

Mask

Your new friend has been busy.

The streets whispered tales of the Red Hood nowadays. How relentless he was. How merciless. How troublesome.

You loved it.

It's been so long since someone stirred things up. You grew weary of the usual suspects. When you live in Gotham - and are raised by Joker - you've seen everything. And when you've seen everything you grow bored quite easily. It was a delight to have a new party to help combat this boredom.

Red Hood was fundamentally different than you. You didn't have much to speak of when it came to morals, you just do whatever you please, whenever you please. He on the other hand was ruled by his morals. Driven by them. He overtook the drug rings just to stop them from selling to kids, sure he got money out of it but if that was the goal he wouldn't care who bought the product. Despite this, he aims to kill. No remorse or regret.

He fascinated you.

Today had been a lazy day. Slept in late, out all night. No business to speak of, simply tagging several billboards with spray paint. Graffiti relaxed you.

You shivered at the brisk breeze in the air. The temperature had been dropping recently, winter approaching. Soon you'd have to bundle up. You grimaced at the idea of having to cover up your fashion.

You stepped back to look at the finished piece you'd just graffitied. Blotches of blue and pink painted the Bat himself, his cowl forming two sharp devil horns. And of course a jagged frown to match.

"We're going for impressionist I see."

You whipped around, gun in hand, to see a familiar shade of red.

The man raised his hands. "Easy. I come in peace."

"Since when?"

"Since I need to talk to you."

You eyed him warily. You could just shoot him. His helmet is probably bulletproof, same as his armor. You holstered your pistol.

"Talk."

"You need to leave Joker."

"... Pfft-! Ha! That's a good one."

"I'm serious."

"I know, that's what makes it funny."

"Listen, I know you're loyal to him. But things are about to get very ugly very quickly. Consider this a courtesy call."

"Thanks but I'm a big girl. Nothin' I can't handle."

"You always did overestimate yourself."

There it was again. Familiarity. He acted as if he knew you.

"Alright, you want me to trust you? Start being honest." You took a step closer to him. "Who are you?"

"What?"

"You act like we've met before, but I think I'd remember a six foot something, built like a brick shithouse man in red. So spill it, who are you?"

"You do get the point of a secret identity, right?"

"Ugh! You're such a pain in the ass."

"Said the pot to the kettle."

You give up. This guy is a major headache. You haven't had this much snarky banter since...

No.

You eyed the man suspiciously. "... Take off the mask."

"You're seriously that desperate?"

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way." You flexed your hand over your gun.

"Don't make me hurt you."

"Don't make me."

You jammed the pistol into Red Hood's stomach. Unfortunately armor plus muscle equals immunity. You both struggled for the gun, you could tell he was clearly holding back. He really didn't want to fight.

You both wrestled for a while, no actual malice present. No, this fight was more... desperate. You who needed to see his face, and him, needing to hide it.

All it took was one wrong move. One miscalculation. Red Hood hadn't been paying attention to his footing, too preoccupied with keeping you at arm's length. Before he knew it his heel slipped from the billboard walkway. You grabbed him.

By the helmet.

His dead weight combined with your pulling resulted in him landing harshly below you. His feet hit the ground with an echoed slam. There in your hands was the infamous Red Hood. Hollow and silent.

You gazed over the edge. There stood the man, black hair whipping violently in the cold wind. A streak of white stood out in the darkness. He stared up at you, a snarl on his lips.

You knew that face.

"... Robin?"

[rippersz]

2. Lover’s Blood

︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦

October Challenge Day 2: Lover’s Blood

(Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader Smut) (Period sex; Oral sex)

︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦

“Well don’t you look ravishing,” she breathes, voice dipping into the sweetest purr as she slides her chin onto your shoulder and slowly winds her arms around your waist.

The feel of her clothing against your body, bare and damp from the shower you just stepped out of, is a little uncomfortable - but you find that you simply don’t care when she slowly pulls you back into her front. Letting you lean on her so she can get a better look; not even bothering to meet your gaze in the mirror and instead paying more attention to the beauty that is your nude form. All for her to admire. All for her to have.

“You’re insatiable,” you murmur, trying to hide the growing smile that pulls at your lips.

When she looks at you like that, eyes dark and focused, committing you to memory, tense with the desire to feel and touch, the cloying sensation of being wanted tends to cloud your judgment. She’s very persuasive, after all. And very talented with her fingers. And her tongue. And you watch, entranced, as the slim beautiful soft planes of her palms glide over your stomach and press into your skin. Gentle. Kind. Caressing and loving because she can’t ever get enough of you.

“Mmm, pot calling the kettle black, darling.” The little rumble in her throat, whispered right next to your ear, makes you shiver.

“I um- I-” you take in a quick sharp breath as those red lips go skating up and down your neck - hovering over your skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface, before she ends her torment and starts pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “I-…”

“Hm? You…?” Her voice is tilting, teasing, fading into blissful silence as her mocking hangs in the air and her mouth continues to leave bright red marks along your skin.

“Um-” There’s something you have to tell her, you know, but your mind is currently running around in one big flustered circle. Your eyes can’t remove themselves from the mirror. They trace her every move - even as she meets your gaze over your shoulder and keeps you there, tightening the arms that have made their home around your body. “There’s um- I have to- um.” You really just cannot remember. It was something crucial though, something that would stop the- oh.

Devilishly tapered fingers, perfectly manicured, dexterous and long, slowly tighten their sudden hold on your nipples. Twisting, tugging, all so slight and gentle, bringing your body forward to try and ease the tiniest edges of pain.

“Larissa-” you gasp, seeing how her brows set over her eyes. Is that a smirk on her lips? And a blush on her cheeks?

“What is it, my love?” Her mouth moves against your skin, huffing soft breaths to make you shudder. “Cat got your tongue?” And she takes that moment to lick a stripe up the side of your neck, her long pink tongue a delicious contrast to your heated body, forcing your lips apart in awe.

She’s slow, so slow, as she smiles. The sharp edges of her teeth revealed behind sweet red lips.

You swallow.

You have to remember, you know, before this escalates. It was something to do with- to do with-

“Oh shit,” you groan, letting your head drop forward as your arms rise and you push your forehead into your palms. “You’ve gotta be fuckin kidding me.”

You remember, unfortunately, and with that, your libido takes the hint and starts to cool. Larissa’s lips pull away instantly, and you watch through the gaps in your fingers as she straightens to her full height. There’s a frown on her lips.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Oh her compassion is so lovely, always so lovely, but the poor woman will most certainly be let down. Cursed by your body. You tsk at yourself and shake your head, letting your hands drag down your face before flopping at your sides.

“No,” you roll your eyes, “it’s just- I started my period yesterday.” And you give her an apologetic look, saying ‘I’m sorry you can’t fuck me senseless’ with just your eyes.

But Larissa doesn’t see that. In fact, she doesn’t see the problem at all. She blinks, instead, and tilts her head slowly. Then her blue eyes narrow and you fear, for just a moment, that you offended her somehow.

“I’m not a coward, darling.” It’s said so succinctly, with such dear confidence, that you can’t help but giggle. Your body jumps in her hold, making her pull back with a look of stern believability. You watch, amused, as her arms cross over her chest. “I’m not,” she states again, firmer this time.

You give her a placating smile.

“I know you’re not, my love, but still. It’s… just, no.” You can’t help the way your nose wrinkles.

Menstruation is normal, of course, and if Larissa were on her period, you’d have no qualms - but you’re not entirely sure if your lover is being truthful when she says she’s not ‘cowardly’. It’s not her obligation, after all. Sex can always wait.

Larissa disagrees.

“Why is it ‘just no’, sweet girl?”

Oh you love it when she calls you that. All combed whispers and coveted lust… god it’s like a shot of adrenaline through your veins. But it’s not enough to sway you.

“Because it’s like… gross? I dunno. It’s not gross, but you don’t- you don’t have to do that Larissa. We can wait.” You turn around to place a hand on her arm, appreciating the muscle that hides, then give it two gentle pats. “Plus I should probably get dressed. I’m gonna bleed everywhere.”

And Larissa almost lets you go when you move to walk past her. Almost.

“What if I want you to bleed everywhere?” Is the quick thing she says beneath her breath before whirling around and tugging you into her arms again. Her body is warm. Strong. Prepared to cushion you as you go stumbling back into your lover’s hold. “What if I don’t mind it at all?” Larissa whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin behind your ear.

What if she doesn’t mind it at all?

You pause.

What if she…. Hm. What if she doesn’t mind it at all….

“Larissa,” you go to warn, overlapping her hands with your own. “You’re skating on-”

“On thin ice?” She finishes, smirking at the helpless grumble you get in response. “How thin, darling?” And her hands dig into the softness of your belly, squishing you with relish. “Enlighten me. Please?” And she adds the smallest whine onto the tail end of her words; so softly and gently and wonderfully, you can’t help but feel so weak when she talks to you like that.

Evil woman. Evil woman, indeed.

“It’s j- I- I mean-” You try to speak, you really do, but then her warm palms start to rub circles onto your tummy and her nose starts to press against your neck, until she’s nuzzling you, and all you can do is let your eyes shut in complete bliss.

“If you don’t want me to, tell me no,” Larissa whispers, serious and true, as she starts to push you forward and walk you toward the bed.

The pace is slow on purpose, giving you time to turn around or walk off or stop you both in your tracks, but you find yourself melting into your lover’s hold and forgetting about why you tried to deny her in the first place.

“Are you sure, baby?” Comes your soft murmur as your knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Before she responds, Larissa grips your hips and moves to turn you around. Your eyes meet, both full of unveiled lust and unbelievable want. She looks like she’s on the edge of finding treasure; wide-eyed and secretly excited. It’s adorable. And hot. And you glance down at her lips without trying to hide it.

“There’s not a single week out of the entire year,” Larissa inhales, moving her hands to the small of your back and pulling you flush against her curves. Her head bends. Her lips fall over your neck. “when I do not want to ravage you.” Her voice dips, low and accented and velvety and you feel the need to let your eyes roll back, but you keep yourself in check. She always tries so hard to get you to blush - and once again, she’s succeeded.

“Kiss me.” But she’s already there, two steps ahead, leaning up to capture your lips in a soft indulgent press.

Warmth curls in your abdomen, matching the ebb and flow of Larissa’s tongue as it flits in and out of your mouth; running over your teeth and pulling little whimpers from the back of your throat. She loves to take her time. She loves to tease. She loves to dance around your tongue and drag spit across your lips and smile when you give her the needy little sounds she wants.

She loves to unravel you with her mouth alone - and that seems to be her mission for the evening as she walks you backward and stops when your legs hit the side of the bed.

“I’m going to get a towel,” Larissa breathes against your mouth, eyes still closed and body swaying you both ever so slightly. “When I get back,” you watch with wide doe eyes as her lashes flutter open and her dark blue gaze starts to appreciate the blush on your cheeks, “I want to see all of you. Is that okay?” She speaks softly, eyebrows lifting and furrowing all at once as she double checks for consent.

The thought is still somewhat strange, but you know that you can always change your mind no matter how last minute. And it’s not like it’s terribly unsanitary. And as she said herself: she’s not a coward. So you nod, give her a clothed mouth smile, and respond with a soft “Yes. That sounds nice.” She rewards you with another quick kiss before she’s turning around and heading toward the en suite.

—

Your lover is unforgiving. A complete maniac. So devoid of any sense and only interested in satiating her own hunger. Keeping her arms wound around your thighs, using the brunt of her muscle to hold you as she wants to: spread out and helpless. Legs bent at the knees, hands grasping the sheets; her own palms press into your hips and hold them down. Pinning you in your spot as you writhe for mercy.

But she’s never been very merciful.

No, she’s only ever been wicked.

Swirling her tongue around your clit, building you up until you’re begging her to fuck you properly, only to cut off your cries with the harsh flicking of her tongue against the sensitive bud; sending you into a round of shakes and shivers. Hips trying to buck up into her mouth but never getting close enough. You’re so wet, she has trouble finding any real friction, but that doesn’t matter. She just uses her mouth.

“F-fuck! Plea- oh god- please!”

Plush lips wrap around your clit and suck, sending a burning heat through your veins. It’s overwhelming. It’s enough to make you huff and hyperventilate and shed a few tears. When you look down at her, head heavy and eyes threatening to close, you nearly cum on the spot.

Larissa’s staring at you from her place between your legs, the lower half of her face stained red and wet with your slick and blood as she presses her lips to your venus mound and lets her tongue loll out onto your clit. Dragging it up up up in slow strokes; never minding the taste of metal in her mouth or the womanly smell of your desire in the air. Nothing but your pleasure matters. Her fingers dig into your hips. Her throat rumbles with a deep moan. The corners of her red lips lift up into an unhurried grin; full of leisure. Entirely smug.

Finally satiated.

︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦

Menstruating is normal!!! Period sex can be sexy!!! Everyone needs to consent!!! I support women’s sexual health!!!

Hope this was okay. Idc if it’s late. This is MY challenge and I’m a BUSY woman. :3 - Rip x

︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦

[horsegirlwarcrimes]

For drabble ideas: MQF and SQH feat. rare medicinal plants.

(I feel like SQH doesn't know it but on MQF's side they're totally friends)

Hope you like this one, thank you for your hard work! ^-^

I LOVE THIS. and i liked it so much that i didnt answer for like 3 weeks im s o so r r y. HOWEVER it is also twice as long as my usual prompt fills so i hope you enjoy pt 1

—

As the Lord of Qian Cao Peak, there are few things which cause Mu Qingfang to make anything like a ‘walk of shame’ across his peak. He is an esteemed scholar, a competent fighter, and a doctor who is considered by many to work miracles. People come to him to solve their problems, and when he must consult his sect siblings, it is with the self-assured confidence of an expert in one field seeking the wisdom of an expert in another.

It is with a heavy heart that he is forced to trudge across Qian Cao, over the rainbow bridge, through Ku Xing Peak, around Xian Xu Peak, and up to An Ding to knock at the Peak Lord’s door in the middle of the night. 

Shang Qinghua answers on the second knock. He appears in the doorway, backlit by the lanterns behind him, accompanied by a wave of cool air and an anxious smile. The man is still fully dressed, guan in place and ink turning his fingers black and smudging darkly across his jaw. No—a bruise, blooming purple. Mu Qingfang’s hands itch to check it, but instead he folds his hands in a shallow bow as Shang Qinghua’s eyebrows go up at the sight of him. 

“Shang-shixiong, this one apologized for disturbing you so late.” 

“Mu-shidi! A pleasant surprise. Don’t worry about it, there’s no way I would be asleep at this time. I thought you were gonna be one of my disciples telling me something was unexpectedly on fire, so really, this is an improvement. What can I do for you?” 

Mu Qingfang sighs. He really hates doing this.

“I’m afraid I must ask your expertise on a sensitive matter.” 

“Oh—? Ooooh. One of those nights, huh? Come on in.” 

Shang Qinghua steps aside, waving lazily over his shoulder for Mu Qingfang to follow him. He calls out, facing his sitting room, 

“Make yourself at home, Shidi. Sorry about the mess, you can push some scrolls over if you need to.” 

Mu Qingfang steps into the front room, taking in the familiar papers, scrolls, and cushions scattered around the floor, the desk, the shelves… he sees one booklet poking out of a plant pot. A Snow Lion Bush, red berries gleaming and viny tendrils swaying as if in an invisible breeze—maybe that is what’s responsible for the unusually cool temperatures Shang Qinghua always seems to keep his rooms at. Mu Qingfang almost wishes he’d worn an extra layer. 

Shang Qinghua starts making tea, and Mu Qingfang moves to take the kettle from his hands.

“Please, allow me. I’m the one who is disturbing you so late.” Best to step in before they both end up sipping bitter tea. 

Shang Qinghua chuckles and raises his hands in defeat, stepping away to ease himself down at his overflowing desk. Mu Qingfang makes a note—stiff, moving gingerly. Fatigue, muscle strain, or an injury he’s avoiding aggravating? He roots around Shang Qinghua’s cabinets until he locates slightly stale dried danshen and curcumin, makes a note to bring more by later as a thank you. 

“So… who’s the lucky victim?” Shang Qinghua asks. 

Mu Qingfang nudges some scrolls aside with his foot and sits in front of the man’s desk, pushing more paperwork aside to set down the pot and two cups of tea with Shang Qinghua’s consenting hand-wave. 

“You know I can’t tell you that, Shixiong.” 

“Ah I know, I know. Can’t blame me for asking. I really want it to be that one guy from Qiong Ding who keeps denying my funding requests for—anyways, it doesn’t matter. What are you looking for, exactly?” 

Mu Qingfang knocks his tea back like downing a cup of wine. “I have two victims of a spring plant. Contact based—their clothes were coated in an opalescent pink powder, fine grained. I spoke with them both individually. One described it as ‘vine like,’ the other ‘bush like.’ Both said the flowers were white and pink, with green stems and leaves and a darker pink tear drop shaped metal emerging from a soft, fur-like white bud.”

“Ahh, ‘Drawstring pulled tight upon sweet fragrance pent within’1?” Shang Qinghua asks, quoting something Mu Qingfang doesn’t recognize. He tilts his head, and Shang Qinghua waves him off. “Don’t worry about it. Those sound familiar! Should I assume the sect members in question are, ah, feeling some effect?” 

“They have refused the… ordinary methods of relief from a trained service worker, myself, each other, and any other member of the sect who might be asked. One of them has a fever that’s making them hallucinate, and the other has developed an unusual rash.” 

TBC...

1王文英 (Wáng Wényīng) Poems of a Hundred Flowers: number 70 - Purse Peony

玲珑奇巧涎欲滴

[peppymintdreams]

desperately need a fic of pickle who hasnt been sleeping for a while and isaac notices

Ofcourse my child

Insomnia Who?

Isaac Rhoades x Pickle

Pickle has been really sleep deprived and who better than Isaac the insomniac pot calling the kettle black

Isaac sat at his desk, eyes scanning over the case files spread out before him, but his focus kept drifting. Across the room, Pickle was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, their face illuminated by the soft glow of a tablet. Isaac had noticed something over the past few days—small things at first, barely perceptible, but now impossible to ignore.

Pickle was exhausted.

At first, Isaac had chalked it up to stress or a busy week, but now he could see it in the way they moved—sluggish, as though the weight of sleepless nights was dragging them down. Dark circles had begun to form under their eyes, and even now, as they sat with the tablet in hand, their head kept nodding forward, as if their body was on the verge of surrendering to sleep, but they just wouldn’t let it.

Isaac closed his file and set it aside, his gaze fixed on them. "Pickle," he called softly, breaking the silence of the room.

Pickle blinked, lifting their head as if they had just been caught drifting off. "Huh? Yeah?" they mumbled, sitting up a bit straighter, clearly trying to seem more alert than they actually were.

Isaac frowned, his brows knitting together. "How long has it been since you’ve had a good night’s sleep?"

Pickle waved a hand dismissively, though their expression didn’t match their nonchalance. "I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all."

Isaac wasn’t buying it. He stood up, crossing the room and sitting beside them on the couch. "A little tired?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "You’ve been like this for days. When’s the last time you slept properly?"

Pickle hesitated, their eyes darting away as they pulled the blanket tighter around themselves. "I don’t know... a few nights ago? I’ve just been... restless. It’s no big deal."

Isaac sighed, his hand finding Pickle’s and giving it a gentle squeeze. "It’s a big deal if you’re not taking care of yourself," he said, his tone soft but firm. "You’re running yourself into the ground, and I’m worried about you."

Pickle bit their lip, their shoulders slumping as they leaned back into the couch. "I don’t know why I can’t sleep," they admitted, voice small. "Every time I try, my mind just keeps racing. I keep thinking about everything I need to do, or everything I should’ve done, and then suddenly it’s morning, and I haven’t slept at all."

Isaac’s expression softened as he listened. He knew that feeling all too well—the weight of responsibilities and endless thoughts keeping you awake at night, despite your body begging for rest. "Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked gently. "You don’t have to go through this alone."

Pickle sighed, leaning their head against his shoulder. "I didn’t want to bother you. You’ve been so busy with work, and I didn’t want to make a fuss over something like this."

Isaac wrapped an arm around them, pulling them closer. "You’re not a bother," he murmured. "You never are."

They sat there in comfortable silence for a few moments, the warmth of Isaac’s embrace easing some of the tension from Pickle’s body. Finally, Isaac spoke again, his voice quiet but resolute. "You need sleep, Pickle. You can’t keep going like this."

"I know," Pickle mumbled, their eyes fluttering shut against Isaac’s shoulder. "But I don’t know how to stop all the thoughts."

Isaac pressed a soft kiss to the top of their head, his hand gently rubbing their arm. "Let me help," he said. "I’ll stay with you, okay? You’re not alone in this. We’ll get through it together."

Pickle didn’t say anything, but Isaac could feel them relax slightly against him. After a few more minutes of silence, Isaac shifted, pulling back just enough to look them in the eye. "Come on," he said, his voice gentle but leaving no room for argument. "We’re going to bed. No more tablet, no more distractions. Just rest."

Pickle opened their mouth to protest, but Isaac shook his head. "No arguments," he said with a soft smile. "I’m your personal sleep enforcer tonight."

Despite their exhaustion, Pickle chuckled at that, a small, tired laugh that made Isaac’s heart ache for them. "Fine, fine," they relented, letting him guide them up from the couch.

Isaac led them to the bedroom, making sure the space was calm and comfortable. He turned off the overhead light, leaving only the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Pickle climbed into bed, and Isaac joined them, pulling the covers up over both of them.

He wrapped an arm around them, pulling them close, their head resting on his chest. "Just focus on my breathing," Isaac murmured softly. "Let your mind relax. You’re safe, you’re here, and nothing else matters right now."

Pickle let out a deep sigh, their body sinking into the mattress as they finally began to let go of the tension that had been holding them captive for days. Isaac continued to hold them, his hand gently stroking their back in soothing circles, his own heartbeat steady beneath their ear.

Slowly but surely, Pickle’s breathing evened out, and before long, the exhaustion they had been fighting off for so long finally overtook them.

Isaac stayed awake a little longer, just watching over them, relieved to see them finally resting. He pressed another soft kiss to their forehead, whispering, "Sleep well," before closing his own eyes and letting sleep take him too.

[luvrrszn]

Godspeed

SIRIUS BLACK x FEM READER

summary in which sirius black leaves you with a letter

warnings angst, bad writing, um idk!, spelling and grammar errors probably hehehhe i'm writing this in the dark my eyes r a little blurry whoopsies

a/n took songspo (song inspo? idk!) from Godspeed by FRUNK OSHENNN; sirius and you are both in your twenties! u guys r married already but let's skip right over any possible plot holes please n thank u

masterlist

I will always love you How I do Let go of a prayer for you Just a sweet word The table is prepared for you

When you wake up in the morning, you can't seem to find Sirius in his usual spot next to you. You assume he's probably just getting washed up, or making a pot of tea for when you woke up.

You pull yourself out of bed, heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face before heading downstairs. You expect to hear the whistling of the kettle, or maybe a little ding from the bread toaster, but you were met with silence. Brushing it off, you continued making your way down the stairs.

However, when you reach the kitchen and still have no sight of Sirius, you feel something off. Never has there been a day where he hasn't been all over you within five minutes of you waking up.

You start thinking the worst.

What if he left you? For good?

Your heart sinks when you see a folded piece of parchment on the kitchen island. Next to it is his wedding band.

You try to keep it together as you reach for the letter, your hands trembling. Steadying yourself with a deep breath, you unfold the parchment.

Wishing you godspeed, glory There will be mountains you won't move

"My dearest bug,

I love you. Please do not think that my leaving was because of you.

Well, it was, but not for the reasons you think.

I need to leave in order to keep you safe, my love. They are looking for me, and I cannot take the risk of them finding you when they come for me.

There are no words to express how sorry I am for leaving you like this. I do not expect you to forgive me, I do not expect you to forget what I have done.

I just hope that you know that I love you. With all my heart and my soul.

I love you, my dove.

Forever yours,

Sirius"

Still, I'll always be there for you How I do

You look at the picture of Sirius on the mantle of the fireplace. It's your favourite picture of him, in which he's holding a bouquet of flowers. Flowers he gave you on the night of your first anniversary.

You notice a new picture next to it. Your heart stings a little as you stare at the picture. Sirius is blowing a kiss at you.

You kiss your fingers, and press it to the picture frame.

I let go of my claim on you, it's a free world You look down on where you came from sometimes

Slowly, you get used to life without Sirius.

You get used to buying groceries for one.

You get used to cooking for one.

You get used to not having to sort through socks to separate yours from his.

You get used to not having to complain about the toilet seat being up.

You get used to the loneliness.

But you'll have this place to call home, always

But you keep all his things.

His clothes keep their place.

His shoes remain by the front door.

HIs unopened mail rest on the coffee table.

His favourite crisps go stale in a cupboard.

You wear his wedding band on a chain around your neck.

You never, ever forget him.

This love will keep us through blinding of the eyes (oh) Silence in the ears, darkness of the mind (until it's time) This love will keep us through blinding of the eyes (oh, oh-oh) Silence in the ears, darkness of the mind (oh, oh-oh, oh) This love will keep us through blinding of the eyes (oh, until it's time we die) Silence in the ears, darkness of the mind

On the hard days, the only thing getting you by is hope.

Hope that he'll come back.

Hope that he'll walk right through the front doors and say that the two of you are free.

Hope that he'll come back and wrap you in his arms and never let go.

But that is all it is.

Hope.

Hmm-oh-oh, oh, oh-oh I'll always love you until the time we die Oh-oh, hmm

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

The Fairy Gala: Not Worth It

[Pomefiore]

[Before Vil could get too close, Marcus turned on his heel and roared at Vil, causing him to stop in his tracks. Marcus glared into Vil's eyes as if he was going to attack him.]

Yuu (Calling from the door): Marcus. He's not worth going to jail. You have a husband to care for.

Jayden (Has his hand on Darius' Shoulders): Please, Marcus. Let's go home.

Marcus (Growling before looking at Darius, then at Jayden): Fine. (Glares at Vil) Do what you have to do, Schoenheit. Just keep your distance.

[Without another wrold, Yuu lead his dorm members out of Pomefiore's Dorm and through the mirror.]

Vil: ...

For once the boys are silent before looking at Vil.

Kalim: Why didn't you let them help?

Vil, very low voice: Cause you lot pawn off everything to anyone willing and refuse to deal with an issue yourselves. *turns on his heel to glare at the fairy Gala trio apart from Ruggie* This is not something you can give to someone else to handle! You all lack self-confidence and refuse to work on yourselves! I was giving you a chance to do so!

Leona, scoffs: Don't act like you weren't trying to get rid of us yourself. Your mate was practically giving himself to you and you refused that to handle us? Ha! That's the pot calling the kettle black!

Vil: Leona, for once in your seven forsaken life, listen! You guys are not aware of what you yourselves possess, of what you are capable of! If you won't put the time in to see if for yourself then I've wasted my time and...damaged my relationship, because of you. Continue on for all I care, but you all are on your own. *walks away*

Boys: ....

Leona: ...Tch. *leaves*

Jamil: ...C'mon Kalim.

Kalim: But Vil-

Jamil: Not now.

Kalim, reluctantly follows Jamil as they leave.

Malleus: ....Something selfless for once, Schoenheit? What love does to someone... *leaves*

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Ichigo Kurosaki (Bleach) - Extra

“Ichigo.”

You smiled and he nodded as you walked over to him, holding a grocery bag.

It’s not uncommon that he’s here. His part time job is close to where you live, and his apartment is a little ways further. So times like this the both of you do run into each other on your way back.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

He looks away.

“Sure.”

You giggle to yourself as you both continue walking down the street. It’s been pretty quiet, and you suppose he prefers it. More often than not he’s yelling at you for running in head first. Although if you recall correctly, Rukia told you that Ichigo was the one who tended to go into battle without so much as a strategy.

Talk about pot calling the kettle black.

By the time you make it home, you’re slipping your shoes off and moving into the kitchen. It takes a while to prepare the meal, and Ichigo waits patiently, watching as you move round the room.

Something Kisuke had said to him is running through his head.

“Do you suppose that her abilities were a product of her parents?”

Ichigo’s head lowered.

“I’m not sure. They’re gone.”

“I see. I guess it’s good that she met you then, Ichigo.”

Kisuke was wearing a grin when he said it.

He’d learned a long time ago not to take stuff that pesky shopkeeper said too seriously, but on the inside, he wonders if you’re indeed happy that you met him. Because he’s been having a hard time thinking about much since he’s met you.

It’s a bit frustrating.

“Food is ready!!”

Your little cheer pulled his focus, and he just brushed off the thoughts as you served the food and took a seat. The meal is a needed distraction. He knows he should say something, but he’s not sure what to say. There’s so much he wants to ask, but it doesn’t feel like his place, or maybe that’s the excuse that keeps him comfortable.

“You’ve been really quiet Ichigo, something I should know about?”

You were wearing a smile and Ichigo was still wearing a frown as he continued to eat quietly. You just give a laugh. You know he’s been coming by more often just to keep you company. Since he found out you live on your own, he’s been like a puppy.

It’s sort of sweet.

“Thanks for the food.”

He placed the bowl down and you nod.

“Of course.”

You stand, taking the empty dishes as you move to the sink.

“Ichigo, I already told you, there’s no need to keep coming over because you’re worried. I’ve been on my own for over seven years now. Plus I have all of you. I don’t want to be a bother.”

Placing the dishes down, you hear his chair scrape against the ground as he rises from his seat. His footsteps are approaching and you turn to reassure him, but he’s much closer than you anticipated.

“That’s not the only reason that I come over.”

His statement makes you freeze in place, eyes trembling when you take in the look he’s now wearing. It isn’t an expression you’re used to.

“I-Ichigo you-”

His hands come down at the sides of you, and your cheeks turn red.

“Do you want me to stop coming by?”

The question makes you swallow.

“I-I..”

How do you answer the question? Your thoughts are jumbled. If you were expecting something, it wasn’t this. Your uncertainty makes him hesitant. His eyes lower, and he takes a step back.

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just turns and starts walking away. Your heart is still hammering, but the sight of his retreating form is a bit scary. You don’t want him to go.

“W-Wait!”

You rush forward and the uncalculated steps make you stumble. When he hears your yell of surprise, he turns on instinct, reaching for you. The collision makes you crash into him and you both hit the floor with a thud. You groan, and Ichigo is letting out similar sounds of pain. When he gathers himself, he looks up to inspect you for injury.

“Are you okay?”

You shift slightly, and once again, the space between the both of you is almost nonexistent. Your eyes grow wide, and when he notices the same, his breath hitches. You’re so close that he can almost feel your soft breaths. Your eyes show a bit of surprise and maybe, maybe even…

He curses internally, looking away as he’s mentally scolding himself.

“I need to apologize.”

About before for starters. It’s clear that he’d startled you, and the last thing he wants is for you to be uncomfortable around him. He can’t imagine you wearing anything but a smile when you look at him, he doesn’t want to imagine it.

“I..I didn’t mean to back you into a corner.”

He mumbles.

His eyes are directed elsewhere.

Your cheeks are still quite flushed, but you have to admit that having him look at you that way, it was unexpected, but very nice. You gulp, working up the nerve.

“Do you…do you come by so often because you like to see me, Ichigo?”

The last thing he expects you to ask is that, and when he turns back to look at you, he’s about to vehemently deny it, but when he sees that hopeful look in your eyes, he all but swallows his tongue.

“I..I…”

He’s stammering, and you lean closer to urge a response, but it’s making the matter worse.

“C-Could you stop getting so close!!”

He lifts his hand to put some distance between the both of you, but you take his wrist and press it to your chest.

His face heats up.

“W-What the hell are you doing!!”

He’s about to yell at you for making such a clearly reckless and quite tempting move, but when he feels the excessive thumping beneath his palm, his expression evens out. Your lips are quivering, and you look so vulnerable, yet taken with the idea that he might feel even a piece of what you do right now.

His expression grows soft, and when you release his hand, he can tell you’re about to explain yourself, but he doesn’t give you a chance to. His hand slips into your hair as he pulls you in. You squeak as you’re drawn in for a kiss. He can feel the slight tremble of your hands.

It’s obvious the action had caught you off guard. But now that you’re both chest to chest, he can feel your heartbeat much more clearly, and it’s going twice as fast as before. He blushed despite himself, deepening the kiss, and you reciprocate, a small sound of content echoing in the space.

He was foolish to think he could play it off, or try and act like it was a mistake on his part. He’s wanted to hold you like this for a while now.

Those few fleeting seconds end far too soon. You pull back slightly, lips parted, eyes holding so much care as you admire him above. He smiles, and your hands smoothen against his chest, your blush still present.

“Do you..want to come over again tomorrow..”

You ask a bit meekly, clearly still flustered from the kiss. He has to admit that this side of you is cute.

“I’d like that.”

You nod bashfully, burying your face in his chest as he chuckles, running a hand behind your head.

It seems there are ways to curve your hyper nature. He’s looking forward to urging more of those expressions. 

[filmtv2022]

In the Bleak Midwinter: Chapter 2

(18+ MDNI)

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

All Series Masterlist

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Chapter Summary: Tommy visits Y/N after reading the letter, and what he finds is another broken soul crying out for someone to ease the pain. In the wake of his own loss, he promises not only to keep Y/N safe but to ensure that she will never have to walk through this nightmare alone again. 

Warnings: Allusions to self-harm/suicide + description of death + death of young children mentioned + harsh language + alcohol and drug use + so much grief and loss

A/N: Please be careful and read the warning before consuming this chapter. A lot of really difficult things are mentioned in this chapter. All of it is setting up the backstory for the reader and gives her and Tommy's eventual relationship more weight. But your own mental health and well-being are more important than any story. So please keep your own best interest in mind. As always, I apologize for any mistakes.

** If you would like to be tagged in future updates, please comment and let me know.

Steady knocking on the door roused you from your stupor, the laudanum slowed your movements as you fought against the pull of gravity to stand. Your weight fell onto the wall beside the doorframe as you shakily pulled the gun from your pocket. 

“Who…” your voice gave out momentarily, your throat dry from lack of use, “who’s there? And what the fuck do you want?” 

“Mrs. Butler, I-I’m Curly. Sorry to bother you, but Tommy sent me to fetch you. He wants to-”

“Tell him…” sucking in a heavy breath, you fought the edges of black crowding your vision to speak again, ”Tell him that if he wants to fuckin’ talk he’ll have to come to see me himself.”

“He said you’d say that, but he told me not to leave until you agreed to come with.” 

Pushing away from the wall, you kept most of your body hidden behind the door as you opened it up a crack. You were met with the sight of a gentle-looking man holding his hat in his hands and staring at the floor. The sweetness in his face tempered the hostility that had taken over moments before.

“Listen, Curly, I know you’re just doin’ your job, but if Mr. Shelby wants to see me he needs to do it in person, okay?” 

“But Tommy said-” 

“I don’t give a damn what he said. I’m saying that if wants to talk he knows where to find me.”

Shutting the door, a little harder than you intended, you slid the lock into place before stumbling over to the bed. Perched on the mattress, you searched blindly in the suitcase for the larger bottle you had hidden away. The smooth glass fell under your fingertips as you lifted it from the scarf you’d wrapped it in for safekeeping. Using the pillows and headboard to support your body, you unstoppered the bottle and brought it to your lips. A few long swallows and things were beginning to go fuzzy, easing you away once more. As the strength in your limbs waned, you set the laudanum down on the nightstand making sure it was safe before closing your eyes. 

…

Night had fallen upon Small Heath by the time you returned to reality, the aftermath of your consumption left a hazy fog over your memories. Gingerly, you removed yourself from the bed and changed back into the pajamas from the night before. Mercifully, across the room were all the essentials to make a pot of tea. Putting on the kettle and fixing it with leaves, you grabbed your bottle and flask before moving to wait at the small table by the window. Below, the street was bustling with men. Some flocked in the direction of the Garrison, while others stumbled into the dark corners with a woman firmly attached to their side. 

The whistle of steam leaving the kettle tore you away from your people-watching. Slowly the tea leaves unfurled as you poured the hot water over them. A few minutes passed before a firm knock at the door forced you away from the task. Not opening it up, you called through to the person on the other side.

“Who’s there?” 

“Thomas Shelby.” 

Opening up, you looked at the man standing before you, and only let him pass after giving him a once over, “Seems you got my message.” 

“I did.” 

“So, have you come to clear your conscience, or is there something else you’d like to talk about Mr. Shelby?”

Nodding, he grabbed himself a smoke, running the cigarette over his lower lip before lighting it. His eyes roamed around the room pausing for just a moment as they fell upon the bottle and flask sitting on the table, and the lack of luggage. A nearly imperceptible look of understanding flashed in his eyes. 

“Would you like some Tea?” 

“Please”

You handed over a cup to Tommy and then poured your own. Sitting down, he waited for you to join him before speaking. 

“So,” he began before clearing his throat, “William… when did he pass?” 

“I guess we aren't exchanging pleasantries. But to answer your question, six months ago.”

“He spoke of children in the letter, but they’re not with you?” 

“No, they’re not.” a prickle of emotion burned through your nose as you struggled to keep down your emotions. 

“And where are they?”

“Buried… next to their father.” letting go of a shaky breath, you looked away, unable to stand the discerning stare of his bright blue eyes. 

“How old were they?” 

“Elizabeth was two and George was… George was ten months.” Tears screamed to let loose at the memory of your children.

“What took them?” 

“Spanish flu. Georgie got sick first and then Liz.” 

“And when did they-”

“Four weeks ago.” grief boiled hot in your chest. Talking about them, being forced to remember their tiny faces, it was all too much. 

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Me too.”

At some point during his questioning, Tommy had turned his focus back to you. His fist clenched under the table as he steadied himself after each blow. So much death, so many tragedies for one person to handle all alone. Breathing hard you pressed the back of your hand to your lips. 

“You said you’re here until the end of the week. Where will you go after?”

“Only God himself knows that Mr. Shelby.”

Silence fell over the room at your thinly veiled confession. Thomas continued to smoke as he sipped his tea, seemingly unfazed at the direction the conversation had taken.

“Is this really why you came here? To rehash the hell that has become my life? Or do you just generally enjoy inflicting pain on others?” 

“Despite what yourself and others might think, the answer to all of your questions is no. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then please, enlighten me.” 

“Mrs. Butler, I-”

“For pity’s sake, call me Y/N.”

“Y/N, I’m here because in his letter William asked me to come.”

“And why would he do that?”

“He loved you, deeply.”

“Right, well, it certainly didn’t seem like it in the end.”

“You have to understand, the war it-”

Standing up, the force of your movement knocked over the chair, “The war what, Thomas? Changed people? Rattled their brains and left them incapable of living? Of loving? Don’t lecture me about what it did. I watched it happen, day after day. Night after night. I watched the man I loved turn into a shell of the person he was before. I watched as every bit of good left in him disappeared. I’m the one who found his broken body, covered in his own blood. Don’t you dare talk to me about that godforsaken war.”  

Holding your ground, you forced yourself to maintain eye contact with Thomas. His piercing blue eyes cut deep as they waited to see what you’d hurl at him next. Finding that you’d gone quiet, he decided it was safe to speak.

“He wanted me to make sure you were safe, cared for.”

“And why would he come to you for that?” 

“Because my family has a great many resources at our disposal to keep the people around us safe.” 

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means from this point forward you are hereby under the care and protection of the Peaky Blinders.” 

Standing, he snuffed out his cigarette and started toward the door. No time was wasted with unwelcome farewells. Outside on the street, Tommy pressed his palms against the top of his car, the metal was warm under his touch. His head hung between his shoulders as focused on slowing his breathing and steadying his hands. The look in your eyes, he knew it well. He’d seen it staring back at him in the mirror more times than he could count. You were fighting a losing battle against yourself, and he’d be damned if you had to go it alone. 

[sneakersnacks]

Come Back Safe to Me

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long, I just haven't been home the past two weeks and now my fiancé and I are going to a wedding this weekend that is out of state, so more driving lol.

Please enjoy everyone, I am always open to ideas and whatnot so just shoot them my way :)

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/sneakersnacks/729235462263390208/come-back-safe-to-me?source=share

Part 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/sneakersnacks/729117150526291968/come-back-safe-to-me?source=share

When walking into Ghost's house it's everything that you expected it to be, very minimalistic, nothing on the walls, a sofa and recliner in the living room in front of a TV. A very plain kitchen that you could tell isn't used often, that will probably have to change.

He seemed a little sheepish, letting you into his space. "It's not much, but ya know, I'm never here anyways. I already have your room straightened out at the end of the hall." He explains, walking down the hallway, your bag in hand. "Mine is right here if ya need anything." He gestures to the room across from yours.

The room was a decent size, a queen size bed in the center with a dresser and nightstand. Again, white walls with white curtains draped from the window. "I really appreciate this, thank you." You say, expressing your gratitude.

He didn't respond vocally, just with a small nod. He set your bag down and left you in your room by yourself, closing the door behind him. You stood there in your room, putting away your clothes in your dresser and putting some things in the night stand; your journal, anxiety meds, a few photos of you and your brothers. You reached the bottom of your bag, and there it lay, your biggest secret. You would never admit this to anyone or let anyone see, but you carry your childhood stuffed animal with you wherever you go. It's the only thing you really have left of home.

You aren't in touch enough with your older siblings, you will call maybe twice a year to let them know you are still alive and to send gifts to your nieces and nephew but that was about it. You took out the small stuffed toy and placed it under your pillows.

You walked down the hallway and noticed Ghost's door was closed, leaving him to his privacy. You went to the kitchen to see where everything was. The kettle was on the stove, and a tiny coffee pot was on the counter. You looked in the fridge and cupboards, you'll need to do some shopping. You automatically started making a shopping list in your brain, noting what you need.

You heard Ghosts' door open, and his heavy footsteps come down the hallway. You were still looking through the cupboards when you heard him enter the kitchen. You turn around and immediately turn back to cupboards, your face bright red. It was your first time seeing Ghost in just civilian clothes. A tight black shirt that seemed to hug every muscle and some sweatpants that hinted at his thighs and well other regions. He wore only a plain black balaclava. You assumed this was just what he wore casually. He didn't need to wear the skull plate around all the time.

"I already have someone dropping off groceries in a bit, even got you some coffee and a coffee pot." He says, you try to compose yourself and turn to face him, giving him a light smile.

"I noticed, thank you, tea was never really my thing."

"Not surprised." He gruffs and rolls his eyes.

"So what do you usually do when you have time off?" You ask him, and he shrugs his shoulders.

"I don't usually take the time off unless I have to, or Price forces me. I read occasionally, hike, whatnot." He explains, and you nod your head.

"Why did you choose to do this, Ghost?" You felt a little more at ease to ask him this.

"I….I need to keep an eye on you. Keep you safe while you recover. You don't need any more mishaps." He explains. His demeanor changed a bit when you asked. He was a bit tense and shifted his weight on his feet when he was responding. He finds a comfortable stance and takes a deep breath in and let's it out slowly, "Crow, when I saw you on the helis floor with Alea trying to dig out those bullets, I have never been so afraid to lose someone before, it happens a lot in our field of work, its normal but seeing you unresponsive..... I didn't know what to do with myself." He made his way to the table and sat in one of the chairs, his head in his hands. You walk over, debating on placing your hand on his shoulder. You knew how he was, touching Ghost wasn't a normal thing to do but you lightly placed your hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

"Ghost...." you aren't sure of the words you should say, you just needed him to feel that you were okay and that you were there for him. Your guys odd friendship was an ongoing puzzle between you two, and it didn't seem to have an end. It took you a long time to trust him and he trust you.

----

Price walks into the room with you following behind him, you seem to peak everyone's interest. It has been a while since a new recruit came into the 141 and to be fair you weren't the norm of someone joining the task force.

"Everyone I'd like for you to meet our new recruit, Crow. They are a hell of a fighter and knows how to get shit done. Be nice and treat 'er like family." He states as he introduces you to everyone. Soap and Gaz seem nice, you met Price through Laswell when she first suggested to him that you join the task force. They greet you and whatnot, but one person stays in their seat, the infamous Ghost. You didn't expect to be buddy buddy with him, you've heard the stories about him and even had a chance to read his file. You wouldn't push it past him if he knew you were joining before anyone else, he probably read your file as well.

He just looked at you from his chair, his cold eyes scanning you up and down. You've dealt with men his size, they weren't as scary as him but you knew from then on you would prove to him you belonged here. You met his gaze and held it until he abruptly got out of his chair and left the big office.

"Don't worry about it Lass, he will warm up to ya." Soap says with a chuckle. You try to give him your best smile for reassurance but something stirs in you and you don't know what it is.

----

You felt Ghost place his hand on top of yours, snapping you out of your thoughts. You can count on one hand how many times you've seen him without gloves on, you try to remember all the little scars on on his hand. Everything from the little scars to the bigger ones that made you curious about what he went through to get them.

Ghost's hand on yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but notice the warmth of his touch. It wasn't a gesture you were accustomed to from him, and it left you feeling strangely exposed and vulnerable.

As your eyes met his, you saw something in them that you hadn't seen before – a glimmer of something more than friendship, a hint of emotion that seemed to transcend the boundaries of your unconventional relationship.

The two of you sat there in the quiet of the kitchen, his fingers gently intertwined with yours. You felt a growing tension in the air, a palpable connection that neither of you had acknowledged until now. It was as if the unspoken words hung in the space between you, waiting to be voiced.

The moment was cut short due to a knock at the door, both of you pulled away, the spell broken, and Ghost stood up to answer the door. A delivery person stood there with bags of groceries, and Ghost took them, thanking the delivery man as he closed the door.

"Let me make dinner tonight?" You ask taking the groceries from his hand and going back into the kitchen.

"You're supposed to technically still be resting and recovering." he says crossing his arms, "I can cook tonight".

The evening sun cast a warm glow throughout the cozy living room. Ghost watched as you expertly unpacked the groceries, a playful smirk on your lips. The moment of shared intimacy before the interruption lingered in the air, but now it was time to decide who would take charge of dinner.

You raised an eyebrow and teased, "Do you even know how to cook anything besides adding water to MREs and instant dinners? I see what you eat on base."

Ghost chuckled and leaned against the kitchen counter. "Well, I can certainly manage more than that," he replied with a sly grin.

You both locked eyes, a silent challenge passing between you. In the end, you decided to take the lead, pulling out chicken and assorted vegetables to prepare a home-cooked meal. The evening promised not only a delicious dinner but also the continuation of a moment that had been so rudely interrupted.

[trashland-llamas]

Workaholics

x gn reader

Miguel and Viktor being horrified when they realize you’ve been overworking yourself to the point of exhaustion. They’re both aware that it’s a pot calling the kettle black situation but it doesn’t stop them from worrying. Miguel had come to get you for dinner when he spots you asleep at your desk. Face planted in a pile of paper and books. He lets you sleep, telling Viktor who’s simply makes a plate, putting it in the fridge for when you wake up. It being a relatively good day for him.

‘Hello, sleepy head.’ Viktor greets you, having decided to wait in your room. ‘Assuming Miguel tucked me in.’  Not only because he couldn’t pick you up, but also the duvet feeling like a boa constrictor. Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes. ‘You deserved a nice sleep. Now, c’mon. Let’s go feed your hungry stomach and then a nice bath. How does that sound?’ One hand grasping his cane while the other was outstretched for you to take. 

‘Will Miguel be joining or is he still busy dealing with superhero stuff?’ Standing up, hand still intertwined with Viktor’s. Giving him a confused look when he chuckled. ‘You underestimate how long you’ve been asleep for, he’s been off for a few hours now.’ His cane echoing as he led you downstairs. Seeing Miguel microwaving the plate made earlier for you. ‘Ah, look who’s out of bed.’ Miguel kisses you on the cheek, letting you know he’s teasing. 'What, did you miss me?'

'Of course I missed you. Thinking about the time I spend with you and Viktor is the only thing keeping me sane half the time.' The two led you off to the bathroom, putting in a few bath bombs. The water not too hot, not too cold. Viktor decided to sit on the tub's ledge as it wasn't big enough for the three of you. Miguel sat behind you, letting you lean on his chest. Viktor occasionally swishing the water with his leg. 'Should probably get out, starting to prune.' Miguel helps you out, wrapping you up in a fluffy towel. Viktor held onto to Miguel's shoulder as he got out.

[dragonologist-phd]

Owlcatober Day 16 - Camping

With as far as Rosemary has come since her early adventuring days, it’s nice to know some things are still the same.

(also on ao3)

When Rosemary first asked to join the Varnling Host, she’d been warned that life on the road was hard. And of course she’d rolled her eyes at the warning; she wasn’t some soft-handed, silver-spoon lady of luxury. She wasn’t afraid of discomfort.

Now, she admits: maybe her life at the temple was a little soft. Maybe she’d grown accustomed to slow, easy days filled with lessons in poetry and medicine, and her peasant-girl hands have lost a few of their calluses.

She only admits it to herself, of course. To the rest of the party, she remains cheerful and optimistic. She will not act a burden and get herself sent back, no thank you. She will adjust, and in the meantime, she has magic enough to soothe her aching muscles when she wakes sore and stiff after another night sleeping on the forest floor.

She holds up remarkably well, in her own opinion, until Varn takes it upon himself to teach her swordplay.

It’s a shame. Under any other circumstances, Rosemary would be delighted to have Varn’s attention wholly upon her every evening, as he flexes his muscles and works himself into a sweat.

The only problem is that Rosemary is absolutely dreadful at swordplay.

“Perhaps it’s time to try my hand at something else?” she asks somewhat desperately after Varn disarms her for the fourth time. She kicks her shortsword over to him and casts a look around the camp. They’ve gathered a decent collection of weaponry- surely there’s something here she’s better suited for. “How about a longbow?”

“I’m not giving you a bow,” Varn says with mild amusement. “Not after you nearly took my ear off yesterday.”

“You’re being dramatic. My aim was not that bad.”

“I’m known for dramatics, I admit…but maybe aim for the monsters near Cephal next time, instead?”

Rosemary sticks out her tongue and hold out her middle finger, which only makes Varn laugh. It’s almost annoying, how handsomely amicable he is. He sheathes his sword, still smiling, and gives Rosemary a curious look. “Didn’t they teach you any martial skills at the temple?”

“We had lessons once a week, for an hour or so.” Rosemary frowns at the memory. “My instructor assigned me the rapier, but I never liked it much. I was terrible then, too, if you must know.”

“Why the assignment, then?”

“Oh, because my needlepoint is extraordinary.” Her poor performance is almost worth the look of utter confusion which crosses Varn’s face as he takes in her statement. Rosemary can’t hold back a laugh as she shakes her head at the man. “It’s a Shelynite thing. ‘Poetic parallelism between your different tools of trade.’”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He walks over to their supply of weapons and begins carefully lifting a few from the crate. “Anything else catch your eye? Daggers? Scimitar?”

“I’ll remind you I know quite a few spells. Some of them are even offensive.”

“True, but I’d prefer you know how to use something else, if you’re going to keep running into the thick of battles.”

Oh, now that is the clearest case of a pot calling the kettle black that Rosemary has ever heard. She crosses her arms and gives Varn a stern glare. “What choice do I have, when you rush in first? Duty demands I not let you skewer yourself on a goblin spear- at least not without me at hand to patch you up again.”

Varn turns to protest, but Rosemary interrupts him to grab at the latest weapon in his hands.

“How about this?” she asks, foisting the large thing away from him while he looks on in surprise.

“A glaive? It’s…heavy.”

It is, and it takes some effort for Rosemary to hold it upright. But the heaviness of it feels good. Sturdy. Like she could knock out an ogre, should the need arise.

“I like it,” she decides. “You know, I never got to try one of these before. My instructor said my calligraphy wasn’t good enough.”

“…Another Shelynite thing?”

“You catch on quick,” Rosemary says with a wink. Her flirtation is slightly ruined as the glaive nearly slips from her grasp, but she clambers it back in place before she can make a total fool of herself. “Oof. I’ll have to build up some muscles to handle this thing.”

“It’s all about consistent training,” Varn tells her. “Every night before bed.”

Rosemary is certain she could turn that into some kind of innuendo, but the glaive nearly slips from grasp again and she decides for once that flirting can wait. She does actually want to learn how to use this weapon now, and there’s no time like the present.

“Okay, then. Let’s get started.”

-

The memory of that night springs to Rosemary’s mind as she uses her glaive to knock Maegar Varn flat on his ass.

He’s still just as handsomely amicable as he ever was; hells, she’s never seen a man look so pleased to find himself bruised and splayed out on the dirt. She rolls her eyes ad bends over to offer him a hand up. “At least pretend to be trying to win, would you?”

“Nothing ‘pretend’ about this, Rose, and I’ve got the bruises to prove it. You’re more of a menace with that thing every passing day.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Rosemary quips. “As for the bruises…well, my spells still come and go, but I could try to give you a kiss and make it better?”

Varn grins readily, but Rosemary can suddenly feel the prickle of Cephal watching them with impatience. Right- they’re supposed to be demonstrating something to Varnhold’s new recruits right now. Varn must feel it, too, for he gives Rosemary a rueful smile. “Maybe later?”

It’s a smile that fills Rosemary with warmth, that simple pleasure of knowing that whatever changes, some certain things will always be there for her. “Definitely later.”

[gloryseized]

perditos asked:

❝ push yourself too hard and you become your own worst enemy. " -- Zelda to Link, pot calls kettle black

Meme Tag -- @perditos

A frustrated muscle worked in Link's jaw. Pointer and middle fingers splayed apart, thumb sticking between the two fingers, as he flicked both hands forward. Thumb curled into his palm, fingers sticking upright, which he tapped against his chin. Thumbs and pointer fingers formed rings, other fingers splayed out, again flicking his hands, palms first facing in and then turning out. << Permission to speak freely? >> He signed, motions direct and sharp--and he did not wait for a reply.

Finger tips curled together, before his hands circled around each other. Then, resting his left fisted hand on his right palm, thumb sticking out, he lifted both hands into the air. <<How does this help? >> he asked frustrated, sweeping his arm wide to indicate the pieces of exhumed Sheikah tech scattered around them. It was common talk among the castle that the princess spent all of her free time and then some buried deep within her research, some times seeming to care more about the ancient past than the current problems, the less charitable might say. And Link himself had been told by the King to keep a careful eye on her, mentioning his concerns for the coming Calamity, voicing some of the fears of the rest of Hyrule that they were not ready.

And Link at least did not feel ready. He'd just pulled a sword from a stone. How on earth was that any process of declaring him to be the Hero? Sure, he could fight well enough, but that didn't mean he could face a magical monster of legend. And he'd seen from the time spent with the princess that she certainly didn't have the power to face the Calamity. But at least he kept trying, at least he kept training, rather than allow himself to get distracted by old dusty fairy tales.

Link's eyes flashed in a challenge. Tapping the back of his hand once, he tapped his chest. Pointer and middle fingers splayed apart, thumbs sliding between the fingers as he connected his hands together, left hand on top of right. Both hands curled into fist before crossing in an 'X' over his chest. << At least I keep fighting. >>

[taiba21]

Spicing Up Menopause: Turmeric as a Sidekick

Turmeric Curcumin Benefits for Menopause

Menopause is that exciting phase of life when our bodies decide to go haywire, bringing a plethora of delightful symptoms to our doorsteps. But fear not, for turmeric is here to save the day! This vibrant yellow spice, commonly found in your kitchen, possesses several incredible benefits for menopausal women.

Firstly, turmeric is known for its anti-inflammatory properties. It can help alleviate joint pain, a common complaint during menopause. So no more wincing as you attempt to do the simplest tasks, like opening a jar or lifting a kettle. Turmeric will be your trusty sidekick in combatting those pesky aches and pains.

Secondly, this magical spice also contains antioxidants that can support heart health, which becomes crucial as women approach menopause. With a sprinkle of turmeric in your meals, you can boost your cardiovascular system and keep those heart-shaped balloons floating smoothly.

Lastly, turmeric is believed to have a positive impact on cognitive function. Menopause can mess with our memory and ability to focus, but fear not, for turmeric may come to the rescue once again. So, say goodbye to the moments of forgetfulness when you find your car keys in the fridge or forget your best friend's name at a crucial moment.

Turmeric's Impact on Menopausal Mood Swings

Mood swings are like the little dark clouds that follow us around during menopause. They can strike at any moment, leaving us feeling like a mysterious blend of Mary Poppins and Cruella de Vil. But fear not, dear menopausal friends, for turmeric might just be the ray of sunshine you need to keep those mood swings at bay.

Turmeric for Menopause

Turmeric contains a compound called curcumin, which has been shown to have mood-boosting properties. It can help increase our brains' serotonin levels, the happy hormone. So, while everyone else is drowning in a pot of ice cream, you can sprinkle turmeric on your popcorn and ride the rollercoaster of menopausal emotions with zest and enthusiasm.

Next time you find yourself teetering on the edge of an emotional abyss, grab your superhero spice and let curcumin work its magic. Remember, turmeric may not be able to solve all your problems, but it can certainly add a little dash of cheer to your journey through menopause.

Turmeric and Hot Flashes During Menopause

Picture this: you're sitting in a meeting, minding your own business, when suddenly your body decides it's time to turn up the heat. Hot flashes are the delightful symptom that menopause throws our way. But fret not, for turmeric might just be the cooling agent you need to survive this fiery ordeal.

Turmeric has been shown to have thermoregulatory properties, which means it can help regulate body temperature. So, by incorporating turmeric into your daily routine, you might just find yourself a little less like a human volcano and a little more like a cool cucumber.

Best Curcumin For Menopause

AMVital has the best curcumin for menopause in the form of Turmeric curcumin & Black pepper gummies. While turmeric alone may not completely banish hot flashes, it can add a sprinkle of relief to these steamy moments. So embrace the golden spice, my friends, and let it weave its cooling spell.

Remember, as you journey through menopause, don't take yourself too seriously. Laugh, explore, and spice things up with a touch of turmeric. After all, when life hands you hot flashes, make spicy lemonade!