#(has been reblogging pressure stuff for months)

[viibingfox]

the guy!!

+ extras under cut

[ruerock]

🧸.

[winterzsurprise]

Peaches and Cream || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f!reader

Summary: There's a stark difference with how your husband and Miguel treats you, starting with how rough the latter can be.

Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, unprotected sex, rough sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, spanking, pussy slapping (once), fluff (?), jealous!Miguel, Miguel has a big dick.

Words: 2.2k

I got distracted from writing domestic Miguel after he replaced the dad!Miguel after he got shot. This is shit, my apologies I'll do better and add more flavor next time, promiseee. Title is from the song I was listening to the whole time by Noah Davis.

I don't know how to navigate tumblr as a second blog but thank you to all your comments, reblogs and likes, it really does motivate me to write more and better stuff. Also thank you to two blogs for putting me in their recommendations! I made it guys :''DD!!

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love || hermosa - beautiful || pobrecita - poor thing (correct me on this one please) || calladita - quietly (thank you sm @eminenceplant for this)

There's a stark difference between your husband and the man hovering above you like a predator about to pounce.

Your husband's hands were soft and loving as it caressed and wandered your body as he peppered kisses down from your neck and to your inner thigh. All of his gestures are a sweet concoction of loving and adoration.

Whilst Miguel's touch was desperate, territorial as he clawed down your flesh, human nails digging into your thighs and breasts as he left a trail of purple bruises around your neck, collarbones before stopping to nip at your hip bone. Everything he does is animalistic, deprived and hungry as if he hasn't eaten for centuries.

His red eyes were clouded with dark lust, glinted with something carnal, even feral, in the dark that got your spine tingling with anticipation.

To see and feel his perpetual desperation for your skin, your scent and desire for your touch had your pride piercing the heavens. To be wanted as he does like you're the air he breathes is dizzying and you can't help but want more.

It's exhilarating, addicting even.

It hasn't been long since you found yourself in love with another version of your husband, yet you grew to crave more of him as seconds ticked by.

Miguel's muscled arms curled around your thighs, forcing them open before pulling you flush to his face with a surprising strength. A pleased sigh escaped your lips as his hot breath fans over your pubic bone, hand falling to knot onto his hair and tugging him closer.

You soon realised why he paused on top of your mound as he inhaled you in, immediately your cheeks flamed.

"You smell heavenly, baby. So wet for me as well, makes me want to taste you."

You bite your bottom lip, nodding urgently as you tug him closer and he clicks his tongue.

"Hermosa, I need your words."

"Please darling? I'll be nice I swear, eat me out please."

Miguel doesn't need to be told twice, dipping his tongue onto your dripping folds. Your back arched at the sensation, after months of no intimacy following the change in your husband, your arousal lit your nerve endings ablaze.

His left hand that was digging into your flesh then reached to splay itself onto your abdomen, pinning you to the mattress as his tongue flicked your clit with a firm pace.

With every flicker of his appendage, hot pleasure rockets into your stomach, body growing feverish as pressure builds up inside your abdomen.

As if sensing your orgasm from the hitch of your breath alone, his right arm unwinds from your thigh to trail down to your fluttering entrance, caressing the rim so sweetly it hurts.

"Miguel please."

He ignored you, focusing on suckling on your clit with a reawakened fervor. You tugged onto his hair, hard enough for it to hurt, for him to listen to your pleas yet he only grunted, sending ample vibrations to quake your bones.

"Beg for it nicely, cariño. I want to hear you beg for me."

"I want your fingers in me, please! Miguel, baby, I want to feel you in me, please."

He groaned, it rumbled in his chest before sending shockwaves down your spine. Then he shoved two of his thick fingers inside you and you jerked. The burn of being breached got your blood buzzing as it mixed with the pleasure his tongue gave you.

If your husband was gentle with his fingers, inserting them one by one with utmost care, Miguel is everything he stands against. 

His fingers immediately found a punishing pace, plunging in and out of you whilst curling up to touch the spongy spot in your walls. Encouraged by his digits, his tongue grew frantic as it sucked and flicked your clit rapidly, driving you closer and closer to your precipice. You opened your mouth to scream but it was caught short by his other hand clamping over your lips.

"Calladita, you're going to wake Gabriella up."

Miguel's gaze burns your face as he brings you pleasure atop pleasure with every thrust and lick .

To see your eyes roll back and your chest rise as you arch, the greedy monster claws at his neck, wanting for more reactions.

Bet her husband had also made her this way...

An ugly head reared out of the back of his brain, whispering taunts into his ears and reaching around with its rotten hands to blind his eyes. 

With the bitter realization, his fingers pistoned in and out of you with a punishing pace, the heel of his palm slamming into your engorged clit as a pathetic wet squelch echoed in the room. The sudden change in pace got you writhing, your mewls muffled by his hand.

"So fucking wet for me, hermosa. Tell me, do you get this turned on for your husband?"

You didn't respond and that seemed to anger him, pulling his fingers out and cutting off the intoxicating thrum of heat in your veins and you whined, displeased. Hearing this, he brought his hand down for a firm slap onto your clit.

"Fuck…"

"You don't get to react, mi amor."

He sat up, pushing down his sweatpants along with his boxers and his erection stands, slapping against his stomach. Your eyes immediately caught the dribbles of pre-cum pulsing out of his tip and your tongue grew heavy, hand reaching out to grab onto his dick.

Miguel, in more ways than one, is bigger than your husband. Your hand barely closed up around his length and dread loomed over you. He's about to ruin you, mind and body, with this dick.

Fuck, will this fit in me?

"You're so big."

He chuckled darkly, fingers pinching your chin. "No, your husband's just lacking, hermosa."

You should've been angered by his comment but you couldn't find it in yourself to reprimand him for it. Instead, you find yourself flustered at his confidence.

"On your knees."

As if hypnotized, you followed despite the disappointment rumbling inside you for not being able to pleasure him. 

You pushed yourself off of the mattress to turn but he was quicker, ever the impatient man that he is, his large hand splayed between your shoulder blades and pinned you to the cushion, forcing you to present your ass up at him.

"Darling? I really don't think it'll fit."

A resonating slap echoed in the room as he swatted your ass and you whimpered, body lurching away before strong arms dragged you back under him.

"You can and you will. I will make sure of it."

His cockhead poked your entrance and a thrill slithered down your spine. You looked down to your pussy, watching with rapt attention as he dragged himself up and down your folds.

The sight of his disheveled self with his head thrown back and mouth agape to let out groans made you shiver. How could someone look so attractive?

Miguel soon pushed in, the head of his dick immediately lodging into your small hole, stretching you wide as he slowly inserted more of his inches. The sting it brought got you gasping and grabbing tight onto the sheets, already feeling full to the brim with barely half of him in.

"Fuck, you're so tight for me. Pobrecita… your husband must've never fucked you wide open before."

Just when you thought it was done, he continued to push more of him. Your head grows light, pleasure shocking all your nerve endings awake from your legs and to the tip of your toes.

He didn't even let you rest, already pulling back and you almost shot up to grab him, scared he'd leave you hanging but Miguel left his cockhead in before thrusting all of his inches back in with one fluid motion and your mouth fell agape. 

"Fuck…! Miguel please!"

"What a greedy girl. Don't worry baby, I'll treat you well tonight."

If his slow thrust already had your mind fuzzy from the pain of the stretch and pleasure, his callous and frenzied pace got you praying as he released shockwaves after shockwaves of bliss to shatter your bones and down to your trembling legs.

You barely had the mind to bite onto the sheet to muffle your cry as he drove manically behind you. 

Seeing this, Miguel grew displeased. Despite knowing the reason for your actions, he wanted to hear how well he fucks you. It was childish trying to outdo someone he'd never encounter again but his pride is bruised.

That fucker got the chance to devour and have you pliant and panting under him for decades while he withered back in his lab trying to get rid of his unwanted addiction.

The bastard has ingrained himself into your body for years and he can't have that.

There should only be one man you should think about at night and be reminded of when you sit to feel the soreness rendering your lower body boneless.

"I'm gonna install noise suppressors in our room tomorrow then you'd be free to scream my name whenever you like, mi vida. You know how I love it when you cry for me."

You didn't say anything but instead nodded frantically. Fire licked every inch of your skin as the familiar tightness in your abdomen appeared, lightning shooting up your spine with every savage thrusts.

There was nothing else you could think of, focused on reaching your deserved nirvana and desperately shaking your hips to meet his thrust. Seeing how fucked and blissed out you were, Miguel groaned before swatting the globes of your ass, pulling a mewl from you.

"Look at you, so cock drunk for me. So beautiful… It makes me wanna tease you a little."

Feeling your orgasm being torn away as he slows, you whine and reach back to grab his hips, forcing him to piston in and out of you with a mewl. Miguel watched you with heavy lidded eyes, he has never seen such a sinful yet delicious sight until now.

If there was a scene he could ingrain into the back of his eyelids, this would be it. 

You, so desperate for a release and trying to chase it when he refused to. Eyes glazed with tears of frustration as you gave up trying to control his hips and bucked your hips like a madwoman into his dick.

There's no such thing as guilt when he got to witness you in such a vulnerable state, only gratefulness.

"Mi cielo, please! Move, I want to come so bad please…!"

He had a different plan for the evening but if you begged so sweetly like that, there's nothing he wouldn't give you.

A house, a new ring with the biggest gemstone you love, the world, the universe or something as simple as a climax becomes acquirable if you want them so badly, he'd give it all to you.

"Anything for you, cariño."

Despite the callousness of his touch driven with wanderlust and desperation to the point of passionate worshiping, Miguel differs from your husband by being love-starved and his brimming confidence in pleasing you a hundred ways before tomorrow without breaking a sweat.

A welcomed and fresh change nonetheless, the difference only led you to fall deeper in love with him.

He drove his dick back into you with a fresh yet ravenous pace, pulling back till his cockhead remains before plunging all of himself in. Miguel's nails dug deep into your flesh enough to make you fear for a permanent dent in them.

Your skin flared as the coil in your stomach reawakened, tightening further and further with every thrust. The warmth is maddening yet deliciously addictive as it lashes out, wrapping around your swelling heart.

"Let me come please? I want it please…! Ah!"

He leant down while his hand reached down to roll your clit in tight eights, decreasing his pace yet hitting deeper as he swept the hair behind your ear before tugging it hard.

"Give it to me, mi vida. I want it all, come around me."

With his proximity and whispered command, there was nothing else you could do but burst. 

Ecstasy easily drowns you as it floods your senses, white hot pleasure exploding behind your eyelids as you screamed into the sheets. Your orgasm rippled through you, shimmying under your skin and turning your limbs useless as they grew light.

There's nothing else you could call what you were feeling except 'heavenly'.

With the constant pulse of your velvet walls clamping down on him, Miguel soon followed with a deep resonating groan to his annoyance, painting your insides white with his liquid arousal.

It was a wonder he lasted this long after having only his hands to entertain him for years in the laboratory and spider hub. Nonetheless, he has his life to spend with you, years where he could discover and evoke your deepest desires. 

Placing gentle kisses on your shoulders, he grinned. "Te amo cariño."

"I love you more…" You mumbled back, exhaustion weighing your eyelids. You barely picked up his clicking tongue before he spoke up, sounding determined as if it was set in stone.

"No sleeping, mi vida. We're not done yet, I have months to make up, no?"

[kawaiijohn]

Help a queer family of disabled nerds

Hey my name is Dante, I live in the Midwest with three of my best friends. We have four cats, one of which is my babyman whom I love very dearly.

His name is Latke Library Card Mango (LLCM). He's very orange and he's the light of my boyfriend, Kris, and I's life.

Cat pics are great right? Have a few.

A few months ago, latkes chronic bladder stones condition acted up which resulted in two emergency vet visits and a week long stay with his actual vet to get the stone removed.

It was the size of a chickpea.

Here's a photo of his post surgery when he had a nakie tummy. He was very very happy to see us.

He's since recovered, but the cost of this put us back around 1300 dollars in total. He's now on a special diet with rather pricey food to prevent this from happening but it might still act up eventually.

We've paid down some of his debt, but the interest is making it become more and more as we try to pay it down.

On top of this, our pipes backed up into our basement and refused to work suddenly a few weeks ago. We live in a house that is over a century old, and the clay pipes keep getting roots growing into them that causes them to not drain.

The roto had to come out and high pressure the roots out to clear them (which required expensive equipment), This put us back another grand.

To add to everything, our 700+ auto insurance bill is due in November, which is the worst time for this bill to need due, but both myself and Kris drive over ten miles to work during different shifts on opposite ends of town- neither of our jobs have public transit anywhere near them.

We are currently barely making ends meet-

I am a lunch lady at a public high school. I love my job. I feed kids who possibly don't even eat at home some days. I do work I am proud of.

However, I can only work around 25 hours a week without risking losing my insurance as a disabled person. My job does not have longer hour positions available, and I am too disabled to work more than this without ruining my body like I have done in the past.

I have been going without buying groceries out of fear that what little money I have in my account will be needed in an emergency. I will be out of work for a week this month, around Thanksgiving, and during Xmas break- unpaid due to me working in a school. Me being out also means no guaranteed meal every day.

Kris works in a factory. He is currently working 55+ hours a week to make what we can to pay off the bills and keep our house. He only has one and a half knees that hurt all the damn time and is barely eating either just to afford everything. His factory keeps calling for sudden shutdown weeks with little notice at the worst times, and he's the main breadwinner in the house for us.

The other two in our household, one is severely disabled and can barely work 10 hr/week (he is waiting on hearing back to receive SSI) on top of having multiple medical appointments a week to figure out what is wrong with his body and why it keeps failing. The other is a freelance artist who is working her butt off to make money while carting the previous to appointments nearly every day. She is full up on commissions at the moment, but when she opens them I'll reblog her posts.

I really didn't want to make this post. I hate asking for help. But we are drowning and there's no sign of land. None of us can afford to live on our own, nor can we move back in with our parents for various reasons.

All I'm asking for is some help. I don't care how much. Five dollars is five dollars. Five dollars is half an hour less we have to kill ourselves to make ends meet.

Even if we don't make the full amount, every dollar will help us get a bit closer to paying this stuff down so we can afford gas and regular grocery trips again instead of having to save up to go once a month like we are currently doing.

Our goal is 2000 dollars.

Yes, this is the high amount. I do not believe we will ever reach it. I can hope we can raise this much at some point.

But for now that's the dream number.

It's the number that is looming over our heads, telling us to pay up or lose our home.

It's not something we need this very moment, but just what we need in the next few months to be able to afford living without destroying our body or working three jobs/ridiculous hours.

We thank anyone who can spare a few bucks to help us, and if you can't afford it just pass this post along to someone who might be able to.

Please send as friend/family if you can, PayPal is threatening to withhold money sent as transactions now if you receive over a certain amount.

This includes sending things through my ko-fi account- so here's the preferred methods:

Progress:

388.74/2,000

Thank you for reading. I love you.

[101maverick]

Damian Wayne Ah Ghul with a reader who is super shy? Like she meets his family and she's practically hiding behind Damian? No pressure, but I'm just a naturally shy person myself.

A/n: I've been thinking of a meeting like this for a while now! tho in my daydreams the reader is a lot more bubbly and stuff, but this one is super fun too! I think I might write them both out :) When it comes to Damian I tend to envision him around his canon age (12ish I think?) because it gives me agency to explore puppy love and I find it so cute! Plus I'm a sucker for school shenanigans hehe🤭 Here Damian is around 15-16 :) Hope you enjoy!! If you like my work, please consider reblogging and checking out my other works through the master list in my pinned post<3

Word count: 1642

Meeting the Family

Your hands are clammy.

Not even overtly so, just enough to make you uncomfortable, to get that unbearable out-of-place sensation one always gets when something's slightly wrong and it feels like life has decided to point a spotlight to it.

You nervously adjust your dress' skirt, fiddling with the hem to make sure it sat at just the right height. You had spent an embarrassing amount of time picking it out, having Damian come by your house earlier than necessary to make sure your choice was appropriate for this occasion, along with your hair and what little makeup you had decided to put on.

He had assured you countless times that you 'could never be anything less than far above standard' , and while that did put you at ease you still have to do your best to relax as you build up the courage to enter the house, Damian waiting by your side.

You and Damian had started 'dating' around three months ago now, and this was your first time meeting his family.

Whenever you think back to how he proposed to you a chuckle curls your lips upward, remembering how out of your depth you felt as he announced his intent of 'courting' you while he held a baby kitten out to you.

The memory loosens you up a bit, and you nod to Damian, who rings the doorbell. He's been holding your hand the whole time, something you find extremely sweet. He gives your hand a squeeze.

Sooner than you'd like, the door opens and you are greeted by the Wayne family's butler, who your boyfriend had informed you is basically like a grandfather figure for them.

He’s an older man, standing tall in a prim and creaseless suit despite his age. His eyes crinkle as the corners of his mouth uptick just the slightest bit, remaining composed as he greets you two.

“Ah, Master Damian, you have finally returned with our guest I see.” He says, looking at your boyfriend. He then turns to you. “My name is Alfred Pennyworth. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, miss…” he trails off.

You can feel your cheeks burn up, and your tongue tangles up as you haste to give him your name. You try to downplay the stutter as much as you can, and rush through the rest of greetings and pleasantries. “It is very nice to meet you as well, mr. Pennyworth.”

Mr. Pennyworth just nods curtly and opens the door wider, making space for you and Damian to enter. "I am glad, miss. Please, follow me to the sitting room." After a nod from Damian, he turns around and starts walking down the hallway to the left of the grand staircase the Manor's foyer opens up to.

The ceiling is extremely tall in this part of the house, two stories high at the very least. The ancient mahogany of the staircase is intricately carved, and the deep, rich blue-green carpet covering the steps gives the entire ensemble a much more regal look, with the way it matches the curtains that are pulled apart to let in all the midday light from the six-feet tall arch windows. It feels way too regal for someone like you.

Damian, on the other hand, looks completely in his element. Not only is this his house, he just fits in with this sort of environment, this regal, sophisticated, high-class one. The blue-green of the curtains and carpets makes the emerald of his eyes pop, and the dark mahogany compliments his tanned skin, reflecting the golden glow of the sun.

Looking at him, you feel a bit surer of yourself, and you straighten your shoulders to match his stance. You're just meeting his family. You can do this.

Mr. Pennyworth leads you to the sitting room. Damian's entire family is lounging there, the majority sitting up while a few rest on the plush couches and chairs. The moment you step foot in the doorway, all conversation stops and all eyes turn toward you.

You can't do this.

————————————

Each of the Wayne family members are here, it seems, and the more you stand there the more you want to crawl out of your skin.

All of these people have been gathered here today for a family lunch because you have come over, and dang if that doesn't make you feel like the inconvenience of the year.

Only a fool doesn't know about how important each of them is, and you certainly aren't one.

Richard "Dick" Grayson, world-class acrobat and notorious heartthrob since his teens, and he surely has better places to be today than here. Keeping up with all of his connections is basically a full-time job, with how Gotham socialites are.

Jason Todd, recently come back from his years-long trip around the world, could be playing golf with the Prince of England right now instead of meeting his youngest brother's high-school girlfriend.

Timothy Drake, at nineteen is C.E.O. of Drake Industries and Bruce Wayne's representative for Wayne Enterprises, right now he could be closing billion-dollar business deals.

Duke Thomas, had graduated from high school at sixteen and at eighteen is in the most prestigious chemistry program in the Continent, he could be studying for the cure of cancer right now.

Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne's only daughter and an extremely elusive person for the media, you're sure she'd much rather a virtual stranger wasn't snooping around in her family's home.

There are also two other people, a red-haired woman that looks to be around Dick Grayson's age and a blonde girl around nineteen.

And, of course, there's Bruce Wayne in the flesh. Billionaire, philanthrope, C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises, arguably the most important person in Gotham and certainly the richest person in New Jersey. One of his charities is always in sight every time you turn a corner on the street in Gotham Proper, his company's name is plastered on almost every single electronically device you can find, and his name is always in the mouth of the press, making headlines day in-day out.

Oh Gosh, you can already imagine it. 'Lowly peasants thinks she can date his son, Brucie Wayne obliterates her and her dynasty'.

Before you know it, your breathing has become laboured and you're standing pressed to Damian's side, trying to fuse with his shadow.

You have no idea how you're gonna hold a conversation with all of these people.

Damian, bless him, saves you. "If you all could quit ogling my beloved like imbeciles, we could go on with introductions." His chin is held up high, and he takes turns staring into each of his family members' eyes, as if daring them to object. With the way he's standing, his body almost covers you, giving you a blanket of security that allows you to relax.

The rest of the room's occupants regain their composure, and Mr. Wayne breaks out into a blinding smile, coming up to you.

"Pardon me! We just hadn't heard you coming down the hallway is all. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Mr. Wayne holds out his hand, and you shake it. His grip is gentle. "Come in, please, make yourself comfortable."

Damian guides you to a couch next to which is a window. The rays of sun catch in his dark hair, reflecting almost-blue. He looks at you, and as he does so you relax. Damian may rarely show it but he has an extremely expressive face, and you have learned to read it.

Right now you read sureness in his jaw, calmness in the set of his brow and something warm and reassuring in the slightest widening of his eyes, the one that happens specifically when e tilts his head downwards to fix his gaze better in yours.

"I must admit I've been waiting for this moment for a good while, I was very curious. Damian has talked a lot about you."

Your eyebrows raise. You start fidgeting with Damian's hand in your lap. "Oh, he-he has?" It comes out as a mumble. You'd beat yourself up over it in normal circumstances but as it stands, you're just glad you are talking at all.

This thought is overshadowed by an eruption of laughter from further inside the room.

"Oh yes he has, the brat has been talking our ears off all day for months! By how he talks, he thinks you've hung the moon and the stars in the night sky." A cackle follows the sentence. You're pretty sure your cheeks are on fire.

Next to you, you notice the tips of Damian's ears turn darker. "Quit your complaining, Todd. It is not my fault if everything you do is subpar compared to her every action."

"Da-Damian!" You whisper-yell next to him, "You can't just say that!"

"Oh, don't worry," Pipes up someone from a chair. You recognise him as Timothy Drake. "Seeing as you've put up with him for months, I think we all believe it. It takes the patience of a saint to do that." He says, a slight smirk on his face.

The rising of cackles in the air and the indignant squawk from Damian pull a little giggle from you, and you squeeze Damian's hand while Dick Grayson placates him.

Mr. Pennyworth, who had disappeared down the hallway after you had reached the sitting room, reappears at the entrance. 1679

“Masters, Misses, the lunch is ready. If you may follow me to the dining room…”

“Thank you Alfred.” Says Mr. Wayne, and after a curt nod from the butler everyone files out of the sitting room.

As you take your place next to Damian at the dining table, listening to Damian and Timothy bicker, you feel more at ease than you ever hoped of feeling while waiting on the front steps.

Your hand is warm in Damian’s still.

————————————

A/n: I wish I had been able to put more Damian/Reader interaction in this but in order for it to work in my vision of their eventual relationship I need them to be alone so unfortunately it couldn't happen for this pic :( I do have more Damian x Reader requests in my inbox tho so there's a high chance I'll be able to expand on it! Plus I'm considering making a list of head canons for Damian and Reader's relationship >:)

[supernaturalgirl20]

Hi, I would love to request a Joel fic. I love your work and appreciate all of the effort you put into your work.

I’d love something where reader and Joel have always tried to keep their distance from each other because they don’t want to get emotionally attached. But one night they’re drinking alone and reader kind of confesses her feelings without thinking. And Joel doesn’t really know how to respond.

So the next morning he acts like he doesn’t remember because he’s afraid to be with someone. And it hurts reader’s feelings, but she just doesn’t bring it up.

Until one evening they’re on a run together and they stay in a safe house for the night and reader can’t distract herself anymore and she confronts him. Maybe it turns into a passionate fight where he admits he remembered but was too scared to say how he felt.

Maybe ending with some steamy smut with a soft ending? I love a good pining/angst/smut combo and I think you’d absolutely kill this. Of course no pressure if you’re not into it! Thank you for doing what you do and I hope you have a lovely day!

Thank you so much you’re so sweet 🥹🥰 Absolutely loved this request. I changed it up just slightly but I hope you enjoy 😉

Trying Not To Love You

Pairings: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, mutual pining, oral (female receiving), hidden feelings, confessions, flirting, jealousy, little bit of angst, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

You were feeling the light buzz from the alcohol tickle beneath the surface of your skin, the whiskey warming you from the inside out as it slid smoothly down your throat. As soon as Tommy had left the tipsy bison, Joel had cracked open the good stuff. 

It was a rare occasion that you’d both get this time alone, especially since arriving back at Jackson a few months ago. You were both either out on patrol or too tired to do anything other than sleep. 

“I still can’t believe this is our life now,” you say as you sit at the bar sipping on your drink. Joel hums in agreement, shifting on his stool so he’s facing you.

 “Feels too good to be true, doesn’t it? Doesn't seem right neither, us here livin’ a normal life while the world is gone to shit.” You can feel his eyes on you as he speaks and god the sound of his voice - that deep southern drawl that gets more prominent when he drinks - stirs something in you. 

“I know what you mean but we’ve earned it Joel. All the shit we’ve been through, this is what we deserve.” 

“I guess. Just makes me on edge knowing it could all be gone in the blink of an eye.” He downs his drink and leans across the bar to pour himself another. 

You use the opportunity to take him in. The way his hair has grown slightly longer, curling at the ends, a significantly more amount of grey littering his dark locks since Boston. The stretch of his plaid shirt across his broad back and shoulders. The sun kissed skin that peeks out from under his shirt at his neck. 

Your gaze drifts to his hands and the way the bottle seems so small in comparison. You shiver at the memory of how those very hands gripped your hips last night as he drove into you from behind. 

“God, I love you,” you whisper, freezing when you see the way his shoulders tense. Fuck! I didn’t mean to say that out loud. 

You were never supposed to feel like this. Weren’t supposed to fall in love. Sure, you both enjoyed each other’s company and fucked when the need arose but that’s as far as it went. You both tried to keep it simple. No living together. No feelings. Just casual. It was easier that way because you had nothing to lose then. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. 

“I - I, you….” He stammers as he pours himself more whiskey before turning to you with a wry smile and topping yours up too. “Ellie seems to be settling in just fine,” he stated, quickly changing the subject, his eyes avoiding your gaze at all costs. 

“Yeah,” you coughed, the whiskey getting caught with your breath. “She’s eh - she’s made some friends. It’s nice, seeing her happy.” 

Joel didn’t say much after that, just nodding his head or humming in agreement and when the bottle was gone, you both got up to leave. “G’night.” He muttered as he turned away from you and walked towards his house. 

“Night,” you whisper as you wait for him to disappear inside before letting out a sigh and making your way home. Why did you have to fall in love with him?

***

The following morning you had patrol bright and early and as you made your way towards the main gate, you caught a glimpse of Joel standing off to the side having a very animated conversation with Julie.

Of course, she’s with him. She’d been smitten with Joel since you all arrived in Jackson. You weren’t in the mood for this today. You weren’t in the mood for her today. You didn’t get much sleep last night, unable to get what you’d said out of your head. Why didn’t he say anything? Does he not feel the same?  Did he even hear me? 

You’d planned to address it this morning and clear the air, not wanting to make things awkward between you both. So, taking a deep breath, you sidle up beside him not missing the glare Julie sends your way as you gently touch his arm, drawing his attention to you. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at him and his face morphs into that scowl you’ve come to love. “Can I have a word?” 

Joel nods before turning back to Julie and saying that he would see her later. “Somethin’ wrong, darlin’?” 

God, I love when he calls me that. 

“I just wanted to talk about last night. What I said…I…” Joel furrows his brows as he leans against the fence. “Darlin, I’m ashamed to say, I don’t remember much bout last night. That was some strong whiskey,” he laughs, his eyes meeting yours briefly as he looks around at the others gathering at the gate. 

“Oh! Okay. Umm, then never mind I guess.” You feel as if you’ve been stabbed in the gut as your stomach twists into knots. He doesn’t even fucking remeber. Of course, he doesn’t. 

“Come on. Best get goin’, we want to be back before nightfall.” Joel pushes off the fence and walks towards the main gate, not bothering to throw you a backward glance as he makes his way out of the town. 

Your heart aches, feeling almost like you’ve been rejected but at least this meant that you could both carry on as if nothing happened. Right?

***

Her laugh was shrill as she looked down at her feet, twirling that strand of hair between her fingers as she walked beside Joel. 

You roll your eyes for the third time and huff loudly as you watch her flirt with him. The man was oblivious. Alway has been, never believing you or Ellie when you say that someone was flirting with him. 

“You and him have a fight?” Tommy asks as he jogs up beside you, trying to keep up the pace. “Hmm?” You mutter as you keep your gaze focused on the man in front of you. The smile he has plastered across his face makes you nauseous.

“You two are usually joined at the hip. He never leaves your side and now he’s up there with….”

“Miss Jackson 2023.” Your tone is clipped and the scowl on your face deepens. Tommy bursts into laughter causing Joel and Julie to turn their gaze in your direction. 

“Who pissed in your cereal this mornin?” Tommy asked, a wide smile on his face as he nudged your shoulder. You let your gaze drift from Joel to Tommy and you can’t help but let out a little chuckle. 

“M’sorry. Just didn’t sleep much last night. Me and Joel are…we’re good.” Tommy hummed as he let his eyes drift between you and his brother, not missing the way Joel’s gaze lingered on you. 

“If you say so. Come on,” he states as he pushes forward, leaving you trailing behind. “Fucking Millers,” you mutter under your breath as you jog after him. 

Later that night, you waited for Joel in your dining room. Dinner was waiting on the stove to be heated as soon as he came but as the hours ticked by, you began to realise he wasn’t coming. 

That ache in your chest that you had earlier when you saw him smiling at Julie began to creep in again. Where was he? He always came for dinner on Friday night. It had become somewhat of a tradition since living in Jackson. You’d both have dinner here and then somehow find yourself in your bed, wrapped in each other's arms. 

The voice in your head told you to go to the Tipsy Bison and see if he was there with her, but with a sigh, you turn out your lights and have an early night. 

Maybe he’ll come here tomorrow?

***

He didn’t show Saturday either. Or Sunday and when Monday rolled around, you’d gone from feeling sorry for yourself to downright angry. 

What the fuck was he playing at? Why was he being so distant?

Grabbing your bag, you throw it over your shoulders and make your way down the street to the main gate. Tommy had come by the day before to ask if you’d be willing to make a special run for medical supplies to which you happily agreed, as long as it wasn’t with Joel. 

Fixing your knife into your belt, you’re startled when you hear that familiar southern drawl. “Hope you brought your gun too, darlin?” Joel stood to the side of the gate with Tommy. 

Both Miller brother’s gaze were fixed on you but yours was only focused on Tommy, who you greeted with a scowl. 

“What’re you doing here?” You ask as your eyes drift back to Joel, that ache in your chest returning with a vengeance. 

“I told ya before, I don’t feel comfortable with you going on runs without me.” He’s staring at you, but his face gives nothing away which only serves to anger you more. 

“I don’t need no damn babysitter, Joel. I can handle it. Besides, Jason was gonna be tagging along.” You stood with your hands crossed across your chest, eyes narrowed as you snarked at him. 

“Never said you needed a babysitter. I know you’re more than capable of handlin things, but you know I ain’t ever able to sit still when you head out without me.”

“Surprised you’d even notice,” you muttered under your breath. “Fine. If you’re insisting on coming, then let’s head out. I wanna be home before dark.” You turn with a finger pointed to Tommy. “You. I’m gonna be having a word with you when I get back.”

You turn and march off leaving both Miller men staring after you. “Good luck with that,” Tommy says, clapping his big brother on the back. Joel scoffs as he turns to follow you. 

***

You could cut the awkward tension with a knife and every time you snuck a glance at Joel, you found him already staring at you. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. 

“I think we’ve got pretty much everything on the list, we should start making our way back.” You state as you turn away from the shelf, stuffing the antibiotics into your bag. 

Joel’s keeping watch, his gaze fixed out the window and gun cocked, and you can’t help but admire him. No. You gotta stop this. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath before closing the gap between you. 

He startles when you gently place your hand on his arm. “Did you hear me? We’ve got everything we need.” His gaze holds your own for a moment and you wish he felt the same way you did. 

Clearing his throat, he steps back slightly, your hand falling away from him, and you pull it towards your chest before swallowing the lump in your throat. 

He steps around you and opens the door slowly, scanning the area before ushering you outside. You’re both halfway down the street when you make out distant voices. 

“Fuck.” He curses as his head moves toward the sound. Five men emerge from the tree line and he grabs you by the arm and pulls you along behind him. 

“Joel,” you say nervously as he continues to pull you along. His grip getting tighter on your arm and hurting you. “What - what are we gonna do? They’re blocking the way home.”

He doesn’t answer. He just continues to move through the small town quickly as he tries to get you both to safety. He turns abruptly and you gasp. 

“Tommy has a safe house nearby. We’re gonna have to stay the night and wait it out.” His face is stern, but you can see the hint of worry in his eyes as they scan your face. 

You look over your shoulder, seeing some of the men making their way to the pharmacy and Joel gently whispers your name. 

“We can’t take them on. We’re outnumbered. I ain’t risking it. I ain’t risking you.” Your breathing becomes ragged, and his hand gently caresses your cheek. “Come on, darlin’. We gotta go.” He grabs your hand in his and moves you quickly through the town, making sure to stay out of sight before you both disappear through the trees. 

***

Night has fallen and Joel is out back grabbing some wood for the stove while you heat up some canned pasta. You’d argued that it was too dangerous to light a fire, but he’d said the cabin was too far out for anyone to see the smoke. 

It beats having to huddle for warmth, you think to yourself as you stir the pot. He pushes open the door and throws a log into the stove before moving up behind you. 

“Smells good,” he hums, his breath hot on your neck as his hand brushes along your lower back. “It’s almost done. You can sit by the fire. I’ll bring it over in a minute.”

Glancing at him over your shoulder, you see he has taken his boots off and your heart aches at the sight of him looking so relaxed. The cabin and the fire and the two of you alone it’s so domestic and that makes it hurt even more.

Handing him his bowl of pasta, you take a seat on the couch beside him as you both tuck into dinner. 

It’s quiet. Too quiet and normally it doesn't bother you. Joel is always kind of quiet, but this is different. There’s an awkward tension in the air and you begin to feel claustrophobic. 

You can feel his eyes on you, and it just gets to be too much. “Stop,” you shout as you stand abruptly, turning to face him. 

“What are you talking about, darlin?” He scoots to the edge of the couch, hands held up as if in surrender. 

“Don’t darlin’ me, Joel. Ugh…. I can’t do this anymore.” You clench your hands into fist as they hang at your side and begin to storm off toward the bedroom. 

His hand on your arm stops you though as he slowly steps around the couch to face you. “Baby,” he whispers as he places both his hands on your cheeks. “Talk to me.”

“No! No, you don’t get to do that to me Joel. You don’t get to ignore me for the last four days and then come here and start calling me baby. I’m not your baby. Or your darlin’ and you made that pretty fucking clear the other night when you completely ignored what I said.”

Something shifts behind his eyes, and you know you were right all along about that night. “I don’t….” He mutters but you're quick to cut him off. 

“Oh, pull the other one. I know you heard me that night at the bar. I know you heard me say I love you and you made me fucking think you were too drunk to remember. Jesus, Joel. Do I really mean so little to you?”

He shakes his head, but you don’t want to know what he has to say, not anymore. You pull out of his grasp and try to hold back the sobs as you make your way into the only bedroom. 

“Shit.” You can hear him curse before the sound of his footsteps echo behind you. 

“You’re right. I did hear you and the reason I didn’t say anything that night was because I was scared. I am scared. We’ve been together since Boston and in that time, I’ve grown to care about you. I’ve - fuck, I love you, alright. I fucking love you and it scares the shit outta me because if anythin were to happen to you, it would break me.” 

His breathing was ragged as tears shimmered in his eyes. You stood staring at him in shock at what he’d just confessed, and you could feel your heart swell at his words.

“I love you, baby, and I’m sorry for how I behaved that night, for how I’ve been behavin. I thought I could let you go but I can’t, and I don’t want neither. Think you can forgive this old fool?” 

You chuckle, unable to believe that you both are such idiots, and you can see the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile as he slowly moves towards you. His hand reaches out, wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. 

“Well, what do ya say,” he asks as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “I think I can forgive you, as long as you promise to never ignore me again.”

He rests his forehead head against yours, his eyes closing as he lets out a contented sigh. “I swear it, baby. Can I kiss you now?”

His eyes are open now and staring down at you and you feel like you’re on cloud nine. Nodding your head he places his hand under your chin and tilts your mouth towards his own before kissing you. 

Is this really happening? 

It’s soft at first. His lips gently caress yours until he licks along your bottom lip. When your tongues meet it’s as if you’re two horny teenagers unable to get enough of each other. His hands grab at your ass, and you squeal when he places his hands around your thighs and lifts you.  

You wrap your legs around his waist, and he walks you over to the bed, laying you down gently. 

Joel is quick to rid you of your clothes, the rough pads of his fingers skimming along your curves. His own clothes join yours on the floor shortly after. His eyes glaze over with lust as he stands at the edge of the bed taking in your naked form. “So, fucking beautiful baby,” he breaths, his voice husky with need. 

You rest your head on the pillows and watch as he crawls up the bed towards you, his lips trailing light kisses along your legs and thighs. 

“What are you doing, Joel?”  His gaze moves along your naked curves until it meets yours. “Gotta make it up to ya darlin,” he rasps and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

 His breath is hot on your skin as he hovers over your aching cunt. His tongue glides along your slick as he teases you. Lifting your hips you plead with him, desperately needing him to touch you. “Please!”

He raises a brow and smiles at you before me burying his face into your curls. “Ooh!” You moan as your back arches off the bed, hands finding purchase in his hair. He moves your legs over his shoulders and buries his tongue inside you.

You writhe beneath him as pleasure begins to build. He alternates between licking and sucking and shoving his tongue inside you that you are a complete and utter mess on the bed below him. That familiar heat begins to form, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to that edge.  

“Oh God,” you moan, as your orgasm rips through you. Your body shudders as you come down from your high. 

“Taste so sweet, darlin,” he says as he moves up your body, peppering light kisses along your skin. He’s flush against you, the tip of him nudging at your entrance and with one roll of his hips, he stretches you open. He groans loudly as he fills you to the hilt, his eyes closed as he tries to calm himself, desperately hoping he doesn’t cum within two minutes. 

Once he has control of himself, he begins to rock into you, his cock pulling out to the tip before pushing back in. You're already sensitive from your earlier orgasm and the way he’s stimulating your clit with his cock has you whimpering beneath him. 

His hands grip onto your waist, fingers digging into your soft skin as he sits back onto his knees, pulling you to with him so you’re sat atop him. 

He holds you down with his right hand as he pistons his hips up into you, his left kneading your breast as he pulls your pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucks. Your head falls back between your shoulders as you cry out his name. “Joel.”

Clenching around him, he groans - his head resting between your breasts, the feeling of you wrapped around him making him dizzy.

His hands grip your hips as you begin to move with him - rolling your hips over him. You shudder in his arms as your cunt clenched around him once again - his trusts become erratic as he nears the edge.

He grips your hips and lifts you off him as he cums, coating your thighs with his release. As much as you’d love him to finish inside you, you know that it’s too risky.

His eyes are staring at your thighs. At where he’s marked you with his spend. “So pretty,” he mutters as he lifts his gaze toward you. “I love you darlin.”

“I love you too. I’m gonna need to have a shower after that,” you giggle and he pulls you into him, kissing your lips softly. 

“How about I run us a bath? Sound good?” He smiles at you, moving a start piece of hair behind your ear. 

“That sounds like heaven.”

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @hungrhay @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @tusk89 @graciexmarvel @pedrostories @musings-of-a-rose @untitledarea @your-voice-is-mellifluous @majestyjade @avengersfan25 @angstismydrug @mydailyhyperfixations @everythingfan @pedrosbum @ryangoslingstanktop @dzaga890

[daisynik7]

Hi, hi, hiiiii!! first of all, I hope you are doing fine! So, um, if it's alright with you I have two requests. One with Eren and the second with Geto.

for geto's I picked Try by Nelly Furtado, (https://open.spotify.com/intl-fr/track/1kS9d4x0ftbfq65eaBGSCT?si=2533cca641954131) a fluff/comfort with a bit of smut (of course) where Geto feels a bit guilty for not being as ingaged in the relationship as reader because of all the stuff he had been through and how bad it affected it (he is madly in love with reader, but, you know). so when he vocalizes his thoughts and feelings reader (who is just as in love and crazy about him) comforts him and makes him understand that she's willing to take all what he has to offer, with no pressure at all and that she will never give up on him and helps him get better. it's kind of, I'll be by yourself and support you while you fix yourself vibe.

aaaand for Eren Iris by goo goo dolls, a fluffy fluff with smut about the moment Eren realizes how deeply in love he is with reader and that he's ready to do anything for her.

No pressure of course!! and thank you so much!

Try

Pairing: Suguru Geto x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.5k

cw: no curses au, modern setting au, descriptions of anxiety and depression, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), cunnilingus, fingering

Author’s Note: Thank you for requesting a song for my y2k karaoke party @ichinosejager13! Ily so much, thanks for always being so supportive of me. I appreciate you so much and I hope I did your idea justice! I haven’t written much for Geto, so it’s been fun doing something a little different. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated. Thank you for reading! MDNI interact banner by @/cafekitsune.

The Eren request will be coming soon in a separate post! 

Geto lies in bed beside you, sleeping peacefully with his hair spread loosely on the pillow. 

You twirl a strand of it between your fingers, marveling at how soft it is against your skin. It’s the longest it’s ever been, split-ends frayed at the tips. When’s the last time he had a trim? Must have been months ago, so long that you don’t even remember. 

You study his face, noticing the dried streaks of tears on his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes. It’s only now that you recall last night’s heavy conversation, the reason behind his somber expression. 

~~~

The two of you eat dinner in silence, poking chopsticks into greasy take-out containers from your favorite Chinese restaurant. Geto sits across from you, staring blankly at his chow mein, barely putting anything in his mouth. The light bulb above you, the one illuminating the dining table, flickers. Out loud, you say, “Need to change that out.” 

It’s meant more as a reminder for yourself, not to your boyfriend. You notice him throw the container haphazardly on the table, breathing staggered. “I’m sorry.”

Confused, you set down your food, focusing on him. “Suguru?”

“I can’t do this. You don’t deserve this,” he mutters.

More perplexed, you stand up, stepping towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Sweetie, what are you talking about?”

He continues to stare into his lap, voice low and eerily monotone. “I can’t make you happy anymore.”

“What do you mean? I’m so happy. I really am.”

“How can you be happy with someone like me?!” He sniffles, tears dripping down his chin now. “Broken light bulbs, dinners in silence, a fucking loser who can’t even get out of his own fucking house. Who could ever love someone like me?”

Your heart aches, throat tight with emotions. It’s devastating to hear him talk this way about himself, to hear how low he’s sunken into the abyss. For as long as you’ve known him, Geto has always been forward about his struggles with anxiety and depression. He’s been an advocate for medication from the start, making it clear when you first started dated that he was on them. A few months ago he decided to wean off the pills, confident he was in a much better place. You supported his choice, encouraging him to do what he felt was best for himself.

He began to spiral about four weeks ago, when he was laid off from his job. That same week, he learned that his parents, who he hasn’t contacted in years, have passed away. A couple days ago, Satoru Gojo, his oldest and closest friend, walked out of his life for reasons Geto is still trying to comprehend. It was hit after hit after hit, and finally, he was knocked out.

But that doesn’t mean you won’t try to pull him back up. 

“Suguru, I love you. I love you so much, I promise you. I’m going to be here for you, no matter what,” you say, squeezing him.

Finally, he looks at you, defeated and in need of comfort. “You won’t leave me like everyone else did?”

You take him into your hands, kissing his forehead. “No, sweetie. I won’t.”

“And you’ll love me even when I’m broken?”

You nod with your nose nuzzled to his. “I’ll love you no matter what. You’re not broken. You don’t need to be fixed.”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him tenderly as he sobs into your shoulder. “I want to be better. For you. For us,” he cries. “I’m trying my best, I really am.”

“I know you are. I know you are, Sugu,” you say, stroking his hair. “I don’t need anything more than that.”

You spend the rest of the night consoling him, listening to him share every emotion and thought he has in his head. The guilt of his parents’ death, the shame he feels being unemployed, the confusion at the sudden departure of Gojo. You don’t have answers to any of the questions that plague his mind, but he doesn’t expect you to. You offer as much comfort as you can, holding him in your arms, brushing away the incessant tears falling from his face, kissing every inch of him as if you were kid, thinking it would heal any of his boo-boos. Eventually, the two of you fall asleep together in your bed, snuggled under the blanket, cradled in each other’s arms. 

~~~

It's been almost an hour now, listening to his steady breathing, watching the delicate flutter in his eyelashes, hoping he’s having a tranquil rest. You press a soft kiss to his forehead with no intention of waking him up. Yet, he slowly opens his eyes, a faint smile forming at his lips when he realizes it’s you.

“Good morning,” you whisper. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be. You’re the best thing to wake up to.” He locks his fingers with yours, shifting his body to face you. “Have you been up for a while?”

You lie, shaking your head. “No, I just woke up.”

He brushes the outline of your lips with his thumb, smile growing. “Liar. You’ve been watching me sleep.”

You giggle, nestling into his chest, hiding your face. “Okay, you caught me.”

His chin rests on the top of your head, his arms surrounding you in a loving embrace. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“I told you, Sugu. Stop apologizing –”

“I know, I know. Still, I want to make it up to you somehow.”

You untuck yourself from his chest, peering up at him. “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

“I just want you, Suguru. Just you.”

He smiles, shimmying down the bed to meet your lips with his. “I can give you that.”

It happens quickly; Geto strips you naked in a matter of seconds, positioned between your thighs, hidden beneath the covers. He starts to lick your clit gently at first, teasing it until it’s swelling on his tongue. You shrug the blanket off enough to see his face, indulging in your arousal, eyes gazing at you, lips curved in a naughty little smirk. He makes sure to eat you out noisily, sucking on your bud with a loud smack every time he draws it from his mouth, slurping the slick leaking from your slit. Soon, his fingers are inside you, the tips curled at your sweet spot, stimulating it until you’re gushing all over his face. 

He collects all your cum on his tongue, swallowing it. “Fuck, you always get so wet for me, he moans, kneeling in front of you. He shoves his underwear down his legs, stroking his stiff cock in his fist. “I want to make you feel so good, baby. Give you everything I have.”

“You always make me feel good,” you whimper, reaching for him.

Holding your hand in his, he brings it up to his mouth, brushing your knuckles against his lips. “I love you so much, sweetie. I wish I could show it better.”

“You do,” you assure him. “You always make me feel loved.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, surrounding you with his body, rolling you on top of him. 

“I’m positive,” you reply, smiling at him. You lean down to kiss him while you straddle his lap, teasing your swollen clit along his shaft. 

“I love you so much,” he breathes out, closing his eyes, relaxing into the mattress as you pleasure him. “You’re always so good to me.”

You sink down on his cock, adjusting to his size slowly until your ass is pressed to his pelvis. He’s buried deep inside you, your pussy squeezing him tight. He plants his feet on the bed, thrusting up into you at an even pace. 

“Honey,” he hisses, wrapping his arms around you, picking up speed. You barely move as he fucks you earnestly, bed creaking noisily below you, fingers pressed firmly to your clit. He flicks it with the wide pad of his thumb, staring at you with a hazy expression. “Come on my cock, baby. I want to watch you squirt all over me.”

On demand, you approach your climax, riding your orgasm out on his lap until you’re spent. He keeps himself inside you as you collapse on top of him, catching your breath. His hands trail up to your back, massaging soothing circles against your skin. 

With his mouth grazing your ear, he whispers, “I’m going to be better a better boyfriend to you. I promise. I’ll do whatever I can, so I don’t lose you.”

You turn your head to face him, smiling. “You won’t lose me, Suguru. I’ll always be here for you.”

[kazinsblog]

Thank You for Participating

With that! Yuma month has officially come to an end! *⸜(* ॑꒳ ॑* )⸝*

Thank you for all your hard work \(❁´∀`❁)ﾉ𖤐´-

I had to wait an extra day to post this due to timezone reasons XD and this post is also the reason why I didn’t say much in my Day 31 post as well, I tried to keep it a surprise.

Thank you to everyone who participated and for the kind words as well ;w;. I'm truly grateful, I didn’t think a lot of people would want to participate since monthly challenges are quite daunting. I love seeing all of your works and various interpretations of the prompts as well. It made me look forward to seeing them the next day!

I hope Yuma month was fun and everyone also had the chance to try something new! 

If you still want to draw or write prompts or give it a try some other time, you can tag me and I’ll still reblog it! I’d love to see more entries! :3 

This is also the first time I’ve held this kind of prompt challenge event as well. If there’s anything you’d think that could improved or be changed please let me know~! You can leave a comment, ask, or DM me here on this blog or on my main blog. I’m always open to suggestions :D If I were to make another Yuma event next year I’d probably change it to a Yuma Week. A monthly challenge may have been a bit too much XD (I apologize if I stressed anyone out ;w;)

Long post on the Thank you art itself and other stuff I wanna talk about

I designed this Yuma Month Thank You art based on all the prompts and elements everyone showed in their pieces. Sadly I couldn’t include all of the prompts due to the image being overly cluttered but I did squeeze in most of them.

The NDA and Makoto plushies stand out a bit because I noticed they were featured a lot in some prompts throughout Yuma Month so they get their own little spotlight as well :3c

And I thought Yuma doing a little bow is a nice way to end Yuma Month~ the design was also based on my Makoto Month prompt too XD I thought it would be a nice contrast to my last entry for Makoto month and the thought of Yuma bowing and thanking everyone is a nice way to end the event in my opinion :3c

Once again I’m super grateful to everyone who participated ;w; it really makes my day when I see you post a Yuma Month prompt. I also apologize (again) if I caused any stress or pressure to you during Yuma Month orz…

[the-kipsabian]

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

real downer mental health stuff below cut. sorry. it's been a real hard couple weeks and i need to get things out somewhere or i'll go crazy.

i just need to get my feelings written out because right now i feel like im going to explode and i can't afford therapy right now and i can't talk to any friends because i cant live with the guilt of burdening them with my problems. so this is the only way i can think of getting it out of me. but i still feel guilty even doing this so im turning reblogs off because i don't want anyone to feel like they need to provide words of comfort or anything like that. would turn off replies to this post too if i knew how to do it. i just need to get it Out.

a few weeks ago, my family had a discussion about putting our old dog down. he's deaf and blind and has dementia that's gotten much worse this year. and he isn't really "living" anymore. i'm not sure he even knows who i am anymore. and it hurts so so bad. i know it's time. but it hurts so fucking bad. i don't want to be the one to make the phone call and make the appointment and solidify the date i lose him forever, so i asked my dad if he could do it. my mom wanted to do it immediately but my dad said he would make the call after my mom's surgeries for her parkinsons that was happening this month. i know my dad doesn't want to put our dog down. the whole thing was brought up in the first place because my mom keeps bringing it up. and it makes her and my dad argue which is not what i fucking want right now. she tends to bring up the subject with my dad and i at the worst times, when im feeling especially terrible. she just had her last surgery yesterday so she brought it up again tonight. the way she brings it up has kind of really sucked for me. i was already feeling especially depressed because everything was just feeling so overwhelming today (stress from thinking about my dog and also hearing that my mom fell on her face and got hurt while i was at work). the past couple times my mom has brought up my dog with me, she's started it off by asking if i had been crying and then when i say that i was, she asks when we're putting our dog down. i don't know why she's doing it like this. i feel upset at her for doing it this way, but at the same time i feel bad for being upset at her because she has parkinson's and just had surgery. even though the surgery went well, i still feel guilty that i'm upset with her.

i couldn't give my mom a straight answer because again, i don't want to be the one to solidify the date, so i told her i'm waiting for dad to make the phone call. she said, "ok i'm going to tell dad." then i went downstairs and cried while she immediately went to tell my dad. i could hear my parents argue about it. it's not a subject my dad likes to acknowledge and my mom has been really pushy about it with him and me. i regret and feel guilty about asking my dad to make the call. i should have just sucked it up and said i would do it. i think i might have to be the one to do it. but it hurts so fucking bad.

whenever my mom talks about it with my dad, she always tries to pressure him by bringing up how sad it's making me. when she does that it feels like im being made into the main "reason" to put our dog down. that if we don't put him down as soon as possible, my mental health will keep spiraling. and yeah, im not doing great right now, but i don't want to keep hearing it brought up over and over like that. i don't want to feel like it's my fault. i know my dog needs to be put down. but i don't want to feel like it's because of me. does that make sense? is that selfish? is the amount of crying i've been doing not "normal" in this situation? it's not like i cry all day. i only do it at night and i try to hide it as best i can. i don't want my mom to see and tell me "this is why we need to put him down now." which she has done before. i don't know. it just hurts so bad.

i haven't been able to tell my mom about how she's been upsetting me. because she'll get upset about it if i do. and i feel bad for being upset in the first place. because i know in the end, these actions she's taking is because she's worried for me. she just. doesn't think things through all the time. she's always spoken before thinking. although im not sure if her parkinson's has made this habit worse. i can't remember if she's always been at this level or if this is something exacerbated by parkinson's. which makes me feel even more guilty about being upset at her. god. everything just feels fucked right now. so overwhelming. i wish i could see my therapist again, but i just can't afford that expense right now.

i've been having more nightmares. been having the stupid sleep paralysis shit. been having more frequent intrusive thoughts of driving off the bridge i go over on my commute or looking at my pills and wondering what would happen if i took everything in the bottle at once. i don't think i would ever actually act on these things, because i love my family too much to have them deal with that kind of hardship. it's just been exhausting for my brain. and some days the thoughts feel closer than others. but that's depression for you. been dealing with it for many years. this has just been one of those real bad times for it. if anyone is actually reading this, please dont worry. i know that's kind of dumb of me to say considering everything i wrote here. but really please don't worry. i just needed a place to put my thoughts and feel like i'm releasing them somehow. im still here. i've had these bad thoughts before and i'm still here. i will still be here. it'll get better. i just need to hold on again.

i just wish dogs lived longer.

[possibilistfanfiction]

hey!! saw you reblogging some of your butch bea stuff & just wanted to tell you that it lowkey changed my life and that if you ever want to revisit that universe you’d have at least one very avid & enthusiastic reader. there’s no pressure though — im grateful it exists at all!!

[i am going to be completely honest, i have no idea what this little prompt fill is but i love butch bea sm, it's soft & basically plotless. feeling so normal about her this pride month lol. also some lilith pov for the culture.]

//

not that you like people, but if you had to pick a favorite, under deep duress, beatrice would be at the top of your list. not that you would ever, ever tell her that, but, unfortunately, you're also pretty certain she knows. and, to your utter horror, you find that you have a reluctant soft spot for ava — you try to contribute it to beatrice being your sister, and therefore ava is basically your sibling-in-law, because they're not married yet but you watched beatrice say goodbye and you watched her grieve and you watched her fall in love, disgustingly, every second of every day, when ava returned. and, sure, ava is steadfast and faithful and far too brave and saved the world, twice, but, like. his relentless optimism and terrible sense of humor is too much sometimes.

but, you remind yourself when you get his text — he's your family too. someone who should have never forgiven you, you remember, like acid leaking in your stomach, but ava has always been too generous. and so you answer with an eye-roll emoji but also I'll be there in ten.

it's not the first day that ava has asked for help, and you're sure it won't be the last, but these days don't happen all that often anymore. you understand, though: your wings ache and sit heavy some nights when you can't sleep, and even if you fly over mountain ranges or tropical fjords or the flat, gorgeous planes of the savannah, deserts and oceans, the world — this admittedly beautiful earth, better than all the heavens — isn't quite enough to hold your sorrow. or, maybe it holds it along with you, and you can't quite put it down.

so you diligently mask your scales with jillian's annoying but very useful tech, and you put on an outfit that nun-you would have deemed inappropriate and nun-beatrice would have blushed furiously at, and teleport from your favorite room, tucked away in the middle of nowhere on a tiny island off the coast of iceland to beatrice and ava's sunny, big house on the beach. it's cool today, though, the day covered in a marine layer that's lingered for months. beatrice looks surprised when you show up in their kitchen, where she's staring off into space while, apparently, very slowly unloading the dishwasher. ava says hello from the living room, where you assume they're on the couch with korra by their side.

'hello, lilith.'

you pop a fresh grape into your mouth from the bowl sitting there in lieu of greeting.

'those are for ava,' beatrice says, and her hands shake and you can tell from the set of her shoulders that ava was right, that the world stings in your palms and up your spine, and sometimes you just need someone to see you through it until it calms.

'he can share,' you say, eat another one and swipe the bowl with beatrice scowling after you as you walk into the living room. ava is, unexpectedly, watching some reality tv drivel — so what if you're caught up on all ten seasons of vanderpump rules, it reminds you of hell if anyone asks — but she smiles sincerely when you hand her the bowl, one you're pretty certain beatrice had sculpted and glazed with her own hands.

'i can share a few,' ava says, and you don't bother to stop yourself from scratching korra's head in greeting when ava nods. you can admit that korra is awesome; she has loyalty to ava but at least you can understand that one. she's wearing a hoodie you know is beatrice's favorite, so it's ava's favorite too, and a beanie; ava hadn't mentioned it, but you know on really bad days her body has trouble regulating its internal temperature too — and if the pile of blankets at the foot of the couch is anything to go by, you're guessing that's happening too.

'you've looked better.'

ava rolls her eyes and beatrice flicks you on the back of the head. 'so have you,' ava says, but you look hot and so you know by that lackluster insult she really is in a good deal of pain.

'ava's back is bad today,' beatrice says, as if that wasn't completely obvious from the way ava has a heating pad and special pillow and is propped up on the couch with korra attentively lying next to her, ready to get anything or alert if she needs to.

'lots of hand spasms,' ava says, 'which are the worst, who knew?'

the only reason you refrain from making a dirty joke is because you'd never want them to think you have ever, for one moment, thought about their sex life. 'well, i'm taking beatrice for a bit,' you say, which is just what ava asked for, 'so maybe some heavier duty pain meds and a nap? we can bring you a late lunch.'

you feel beatrice stiffen behind you. 'i need to be here today,' she says, clipped and anxious. 'what if ava —'

'what if i what, bea?' ava says, without any malice, but with a glint in her eye that even you know to be careful of. 'i just need to sleep today and watch some stupid tv. we can go through all my rehab exercises in the evening again, like we always do.'

beatrice's jaw is clenched, and she bites her bottom lip.

'bea,' ava says, and reaches for her hand, and, not for the first time at all, do you feel a little out of place. lonely, and sad, and aching: they are in love, however much it annoys you. there's a care there that you're fairly certain you will never have, and never be able to give.

'a few hours, beatrice,' you say. 'that's all.'

ava had texted that beatrice had been losing track of time and tasks all morning, which is a sign you'd all started to understand as a bad ptsd day, not infrequently leading to a panic attack or a flashback if she's left to her own devices. usually, they won't have bad days at the same time, some divine knowledge of something, but today the stars hadn't lined up.

but beatrice sighs and then nods: she knows herself, knows when her brain is misfiring or misaligned, when things aren't quite as real as they should be. ava's hands are in painful, involuntary fists and so it's up to you today, to hold beatrice's through it.

'great, now that that's settled,' you say, when she offers nothing else. you take her wrist and, just for fun, teleport her right into the middle of the ocean, until she's spluttering and yelling but then, blessedly, lets out a laugh. you teleport her right back to her shower and even ava is grinning from inside. 'get ready,' you tell her, throw a towel at her from the neat stack in their patio bin. 'see you in fifteen.'

'don't have too much fun catching up on vanderpump rules without me,' she says, color back in her cheeks and a clarity seeping into her eyes.

'i hate that show.'

'sure,' she says, dismissing you with a wave of her hand, and, fine, you do join ava on the couch, but it's only because he's high and divulges, eagerly, beatrice's latest cooking mishap. beatrice comes in from their bedroom a few minutes later, looking a little steadier still, in soft, tailored pants and an oversized t-shirt, tucked in precisely. she's put contacts in and has sunglasses slipped into the collar of her shirt, a thick, fancy watch on her wrist. ava, even in a lot of pain, looks like they might start drooling. 'great.' you fling a pair of pristine birkenstocks at beatrice, who catches them with a scowl, 'you look fine to be in public. let's go.'

'bye, baby,' ava says, frustratingly unfazed by you. beatrice smiles, gently, her eyes clear for the moment when all she has to focus on is ava, and kisses her forehead, gently cups her jaw in her hand. 'love you, have fun.'

'i love you too,' beatrice says.

'no fun,' you say, and ava's still laughing as you touch beatrice's elbow and teleport on your way.

/

'this is my sister, lilith,' beatrice introduces, and, like, whatever, your heart swells in your chest and you feel warm and kind. you sink into it — only for a moment.

'nice to meet you,' beatrice's barber says, offering her hand with a genuine, easy smile, not batting an eye that you and beatrice look absolutely nothing alike; you feel warm and kind again when you think about beatrice talking about you as her sister to people you've never met, that you matter to her enough to mention. 'i'm xavi.'

'xavi, cool.'

beatrice sits down in the chair, comfortable and present, even though her hands still shake, but it's clear that this is a space she's always been made to feel safe. somewhere she's always been made to feel seen, which you realized, over the past few years, she had never had, despite how much you had — and still do — still love her.

'same thing, bea?' xavi asks.

bea nods. 'you can take the skin fade up a little higher, i think. it just grows so fast.'

xavi nods. 'sounds good.'

and it's not like you don't spend a fair amount of your time with beatrice and ava, because they live somewhere beautiful and it brings you deep joy to annoy them, and, like, drag brunches and queer bars are admittedly very fun, but to see your sister just be is kind of moving. and maybe she realizes that too, that it's special you're here, that it's special you're allowed to be here, in this space that is very much hers, the quiet hum of the clippers in the background, while she chats with her barber about the latest ridiculous episodes of love island — which, yes, you have watched; yes, you do participate in the conversation after beatrice includes you immediately, because you're only so strong and it's always been a summer tradition of yours to watch nightly — and they laugh together. you laugh too, and then all of a sudden beatrice is crying, and xavi turns the clippers off carefully. beatrice snakes a hand out from under her cape and tries to wipe her eyes.

'i apologize,' she says, really trying to get it under control. 'i — sorry.'

'she's having a weird day,' you offer, and beatrice nods with a sniffle. you don't bother to explain further — that's beatrice's to tell, if she ever wants to — but it seems to calm beatrice a little bit.

'sorry,' she says again. 'i — i'm just happy to be here,' she says, adds a quiet, 'as i am,' and xavi just squeezes her shoulder.

'i'm happy about that too.'

beatrice lets out a big breath and steadies herself; you feel relieved too that you won't have to deal with a panic attack in the middle of a barber shop while beatrice's hair isn't nearly faded properly. 'i never cry.'

you roll your eyes. 'if by "never" you mean five to ten times a week...'

beatrice shoots you a glare through the mirror and you just grin, all teeth.

xavi laughs a little and turns the clippers back on. 'it's okay,' she says. 'you're secret's safe with me.'

/

admittedly, beatrice's hair does look great, a clean fade and a little messy pomade on top, but you've already complimented her on this haircut twice so you're certainly not doing that again. you walk with her along the street her barbershop is on, that she knows well and it hits you quietly that you know it well too. you don't have a home — you haven't had a home in a while — but this might come close.

years ago, before the war, before all of it, on a bad day the two of you would go at it for hours sparring, blood on your knuckles and along your teeth and once mother superion had been irate when you got such a good shot in beatrice's eye was swollen shut for days — but there is no war anymore. there are small battles, but beatrice hasn't fought since she got hurt; even though she's better now, with a sturdy rod down her femur and scars that don't seem to bother her much down her abdomen, you think, unofficially, that she's not ever going to fight again.

you don't have the same fate, you know, but for today you look beautiful in an easy bright blue shift dress and sunglasses, your hair dark and long, and beatrice's hands have stopped shaking.

'sushi?' you ask, a reach, maybe, but when she smiles you know you were right.

it makes you realize, too, when you sit down at a restaurant you've come to so many times with her — and ava, too — that you know the server, who greets you both by name and brings you shishito peppers and spicy edamame without you even having to order. beatrice relaxes in her chair after a second on the patio, lets out another deep breath.

'all right?'

she takes her sunglasses off and nods. 'thank you.'

you shake your head. 'you're my sister.'

you mean it: i have not forgotten who you are; i have not forgotten who i am. you mean it: i love you. even if the words get stuck in your chest, even if you can't quite say them — you mean it.

'plus,' you say, 'you're paying, and i'm ordering the best sake on the menu.'

she laughs, bright and easy, and shrugs. 'you know the catholic church and my horrible parents are footing the bill anyway. we should order whatever we want.'

you remember when you were nineteen and beatrice was brand new to the ocs, how much you felt frustrated by her, deeply: she was earnest, and so serious, and very hurt, but kind in a way you never could be. the pressure sat heavy on both of your shoulders, but she held it with grace. 'could you have imagined this life when we first met?'

she seems as surprised by your question as you are that you even asked it, but her smile is easy and she runs a hand along her buzzed hair with a laugh. 'i think i would have had a heart attack if anyone had told me even a sliver of what my life is now.'

you wait a beat but then you do laugh, because it's true. your server brings you your sake and some sashimi you'd ordered, along with some scallops that are your favorite. ava sends a text in the group chat the three of your have — which you refuse to really participate in, but fine — saying that she's doing fine, that she had to take a fever reducer but korra's been on top of anything she needed to get so ava hasn't had to try to get up, that the protein smoothie beatrice had made her had been fine and she's just going to try to sleep some more. it makes beatrice relax even more, palpably, and you understand, in some way.

'you've retired, haven't you?'

she calmly swallows her tuna and then puts down her chopsticks. 'fighting? yes.'

it's simple and it's big and it's quiet. you knew already.

'but i'll be around. you know i enjoy research, archival, collaborations with jillian. i'm not — this will always be part of my life.' it's unspoken too: you will always be part of my life. and you know she means it.

'good,' you say, and for the first time in longer than you can really remember it feels like you're able to offer a benediction.

her eyes are soft as the clouds burn off, finally, as the afternoon turns warm. 'i — i want to live a long life.'

you can't say anything, but you can nod. you want that too — for her, for all of you. 'plus,' you say, 'ava was even worse than normal when you got blown up.'

she rolls her eyes, as glad for the levity as you are. you drink more sake and order more sushi and laugh as you watch people walk by on the street and beatrice offers — delightfully and playfully kind of mean — commentary about some of them. she's been your person for a long time, you remember, her gentleness despite bullets and arrows and bombs, despite holy wars, despite knuckles — yours, or hers, or both — split open to the bone. beatrice holds her chopsticks easily, steadily, and the scars on the tops of her hands shine white in the sun, but they've faded. you can only see them if you know where to look.

[midnightsilver]

Looking for an art activity to do this month? Or maybe you just want some no pressure Art Prompts to get the creative juices flowing? 😄

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[its-all-papaya]

hiiii friends followers etc <3

i’ve been promising a lot of stuff lately, but unfortunately i think i’ve come to terms with the fact that i am going to have to take baby steps back from fandom for the immediate future bc i am… not super well.

i recently said im not even sure what burnout feels like because i think ive been in a moderate state of it since i was about 14 years old, but i can tell you now: i know what it feels like. it’s crying in the morning before you get out of bed bc you’re not sure you have another day left in you. it’s 400mg of caffeine every day not because you need it to stay awake, but because you can’t keep your mood above water without it. it’s a million straight work days and a million chores on the to-do list and a million texts to your mom saying “im tired” and “i just want a second to catch my breath.”

i’m not a danger to myself or anything, i’m actually just sort of numb, but i DO think that my activity here has been inadvertently putting more pressure on me to perform and meet the expectations of other people in yet another realm of my life. that’s not on you guys!! that’s on me!! a lot of the time i ask for it and i over-promise and then beat myself up when i can’t deliver. and honestly, how could i expect myself to? i’ve been working at least four hours every day for TWO STRAIGHT MONTHS. i fall asleep with the lights on and wake up already behind on everything and the minute i get home i open my laptop anyway to type in a word doc mostly because i want to, but also because i told you all i would. and i’m already letting you down.

dad lando will get finished. it’s 70k already and i’m going to keep working on it, just slowly. maybe there’ll be a christmas fic, maybe it’ll be out before anything else, maybe dad lando will come in december but maybe it’ll be more like january.

you can keep talking to me, i just respectfully kindly ask that you don’t ask when things are getting published or how writing is going, because i WILL give you timelines it’s not healthy for me to deliver on and then stress myself out trying to keep them.

thank you thank you thank you to everybody who has engaged with my work in any way, everyone who has encouraged me, and everybody who’s ever added tags to a reblog, or dropped anon love in my inbox. i know i’ll probably lose some of you when you get tired of waiting, and that’s alright i guess. i’ve gotta like… stay alive. you know?

gonna try to be on here less so plz send me writing i’ve missed and hit me up for my discord if you wanna chat. love you all, love landoscar, love writing, just gotta manage what can be managed for the time being 🧡

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴏ'ʜᴀʀᴀ — ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟɪᴛᴏ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — life with an itsy bitsy spider except he's not so itsy bitsy and he's not as venomous as most people think .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — fluff infection

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 2.8k

let's say that you and miguel have been together for a good year already. you're past the honeymoon phase but you're comfortable and still love each other the way you did the first few months.

you've practically all but moved in with miguel at this point, most of your stuff are already with him and you only visit your own apartment if you happen to forget something that isn't already with him (after refusing miguel's 6th attempt to persuade you to let him buy it instead of going back for it).

whenever you two find the time to be with each other, you often take naps together. nobody is big spoon or small spoon between you. miguel makes you lay on top of him like a weighted blanket. he feels reassured that you're still alive and around with your breathing on his shoulder and your steady heartbeat matching his own.

he likes to sprawl a hand on your back under your shirt like this, just tracing lazy patterns on your skin. on the times you manage to slip away from his hold to grab a glass of water in the kitchen, he would stroll in after you still half asleep, gruff voice pleading you to come back to bed with him even if you were planning on doing just that.

the man would wake up the moment the pressure of your body on top of his is gone.

OR sometimes on his rare off days, he'd spend the whole day asleep. one time you catch him lying on his stomach in nothing but sweats, his top shirtless exposing the large expanse of his shoulders and back to you.

you just finished doing whatever chore you had for the day before you had decided to just... plop yourself on his back, cheek pressed between his shoulder blades. miguel then wakes up hours later when the sun has set but unable to get up due to a weight on his back. he turns his head around and finds your body nestled comfortably on top of him, still sound asleep.

it doesn't matter if he was starving at that point, he wouldn't dare wake you up.

you try not to mix yourself up much with his job since you know it can get dangerous but when miguel gets too clingy and refuses to go to hq for the day, he'll take you with him!

in the movie we see him standing on his platform but in this case, he rolls out a chair that he can sit on so you can sit on his lap while he works. he claims that it helps him focus better when you're there, playing with the ends of his hair on the back of his head or peppering the exposed skin of his neck with featherlight kisses that he responds to with a hum and a deep press of his lips on the side of your head.

this in turn gives lyla the freedom to take so much pictures of him being clingy, literally waits outside the bathroom stalls for you when you need the loo, and when you exit he asks if you washed your hands after, you tell him yes and then holds your hand to lead you back to his "office."

lyla teases him endlessly about it when he comes back the next day alone.

you treat lyla like she's one of your girlfriends, gossiping about things outside the spider society and in return, she would tell you all the tea in hq.

and now that you two have bonded, miguel groans and ribs his forehead because that means lyla gets all the new details about miguel's private life that she uses against him on the worst opportunities but he won't be able to tell her off when you're there because miguel would never want to make you mad.

there was one time to woke up with a start in your shared bed with miguel, a nightmare of miguel's body limp and cold on nueva york's streets and if course it freaks you out. being spider-man was dangerous and it meant having lots of enemies whether they're superpowered or not.

miguel woke up and saw you panting with your head buried in your raised knees. he would wordlessly pull you into an embrace before singing you a lullaby to help to fall back asleep.

date nights with miguel are as rare as his day offs, maybe even more so since he prefers to stay indoors to rest and recuperate. on the times he does take you out, he makes sure it's fancy and extravagant as a way to make up for the lack of nights like this where you'd enjoy candlelit dinner in a popular italian restaurant on nueva york's more posh streets.

getting ready for said date, you'd wear this jaw dropping blue dress that matches the color of his suit paired with your favorite red bottom heels and the pearl set accessories he'd gifted you on your six months anniversary. you'd exit the bathroom back into your shared bedroom where miguel was waiting for you in a fancy tux himself and he'd stop whatever it was he was doing just to stare at you with lovesick eyes.

you'd flash him a pretty smile before turning around, asking him to zip you up. he'd brush your hair aside, the tips of his fingers grazing against your nape. he'd pinch the tiny metal between his thumb and index finger and slowly drag it up, kissing your neck softly when it's zipped all the way up.

OR sometimes after these aforementioned date nights when you would return home with full bellies and wine tasting lips, you'd huff and take a seat on the couch, legs straightened before you as you groaned, head tilting back to rest on the back of the couch. miguel promptly follows you, kneeling in front of you and taking in the sight of you, all tired and lazy but still so so beautiful nonetheless.

he'd take a foot and place it on his leg, not minding the way your heels would leave a bit of a dusty print on his dark trousers. he kisses the length of your calf as his hands take off your heels, resulting another groan from you but this time in relief. it spurs him on, stroking his ego the way a simple act of taking your shoes off elicits such a reaction from you.

he does the same to your other leg and it usually ends up with him making out with you on the couch, you still seated at the edge while he kneels in front of you, hands gripping your small waist and your own mussing up his styled hair for the night, teeth nipping at each other's skin and lips until you're both red and panting.

he likes to give you kisses. one of his biggest love languages is definitely physical touch. just feeling your warmth under his lips as he presses random kisses on you throughout the day.

you'd wake up with a peck on your forehead, followed by a kid to the top of your nose as to hand him his coffee. when he finds you seated on the couch and reading a book, he'd give you what he likes to call 'drive by kisses' on your cheek as he walks past you.

in general, lots of kisses by miguel. but i think one of his favorite places to kiss you (side from your lips) is the inside of your wrist where he can feel your heartbeat pulsing as he brushes his lips against the skin repeatedly.

when it rains, miguel would complain and grumble under his breath at how wet it becomes because you'd pro a window open to let some rainy breeze in, the sounds of raindrops against glass intensified.

he would act like a grump at first before settling next to you on the couch, propping your feet up on his lap as he browses on his work on his tablet, one hand occasionally massaging your sock-clad feet as you lay there either scrolling aimlessly on your phone or reading a book.

nueva york is a city of progress so it's mostly skyscrapers and tall buildings. one time you expressed that you wanted to be able to see the stars and you can't do that here at home since the city lights always outshine them. and what did miguel do?

he took you to a different dimension, one where it's mostly nature and the stars twinkle so brightly it feels like you'd reach them if you stretch a hand out.

it's one of the rare times miguel lets you travel with him to a different dimension. he only does it to see that absolutely dazzling smile on your face, the way you quite literally lit up as you tugged his arm, pointing at a certain constellation and talking his ear off about the story behind it even if it's not exactly accurate or scientifically or canonically correct.

miguel won't tell you that, instead he'll just stare at you the whole time with the most dopey lovesick look ever i'm talking hearts in his eyes and the softest smile on his lips. and when you finally turn to face him, he's been staring at you the whole time.

sometimes his work isn't always stored in some tech like his laptop or tablet. he's old-fashioned, writing stuff down until he comes home with a bunch of papers and files.

he has an office in his apartment so he ends up just dumping them there and eventually forgetting them. so when the day comes and you're cleaning the place up, you find his office in complete disarray. i'm talking about piles and piles of paperwork on his desk, books not tucked in the shelf and his blinds drawn leaving little to no natural light in the room.

you clicked your tongue, pulling the vacuum inside. but first, you snap a pic of the office to miguel and sending it with the caption 'you live like a goddamn toddler 🗑️' yes emoji included because the whole room can be compared to a dumpster.

you clean the place, vacuuming the floors, rearranging his shelf and dusting the whole place until the only thing left to fix was his desk.

you'd grumble under your breath while working because you're sure you spent an hour and a half already with just miguel's office and you were losing daylight quickly when you still have two other rooms to clean. you were shuffling the papers and sorting them by the date stamped on the corner of each page when one paper stands out to you. it's colored a baby pink and written in miguel's scrawly penmanship.

at first you think nothing of it until its contents catch your eyes do you realize it's a love letter. addressed to you. it makes you swoon of course. miguel loves giving you letters, handing you quite a few throughout your relationship especially during important milestones in your lives but these? these were unsent letters he had written to you.

you continue to fix up his files and you see more and more of these oddly colored papers throughout the pile, in between folders and stapled papers were various love letters written in multiple shades of pastels. sometimes it's just one page, others would consist of at least three. it's sweet and really endearing but you don't read them. there was a reason miguel didn't give them to you after all.

you simply compiled all the letters you've found before tucking them in a drawer on his desk. knowing that he had done those was filling enough for your heart. it was enough to bloom warmth on the apples of your cheeks and giggle at how much of a sap your boyfriend was. but he's your sap and you won't have it any other way.

on the fourth month of your relationship with miguel did you stumble upon the knowledge that miguel cannot cook for the life of him. he tried to make you toast once and ended up burning both the bread and your toaster. since then you've banned miguel from cooking in both your place and his.

that means you are always on kitchen duty, greeting miguel when he comes home to you after work with a kiss and freshly cooked dinner. but on the rare occasions he surprises you by coming home early, he'd offer a helping hand while you prep dinner.

you were skeptical of course, having flashbacks of his toaster fiasco, but his pouty lips were making it hard for you to say no. so you ended up giving in, instructing him on what to do. you leave him be for a few minutes before he's calling after you like

"um... mi amor, is the sauce supposed to look like this?" miguel asks, tapping you hesitantly on your shoulder. your eyes practically bulge out of your skull at the purple colored pasta sauce you had told him to stir. how did he make red tomato sauce into that?

"miguel, baby, did you do something while i wasn't looking..?" he shakes his head, not saying that he was only stirring the pot like you said.

in the end you had to shoo him out, instead making him sit his too large frame on the tiny island chairs as you redo the sauce, pushing back dinner for another half hour because he had mysteriously managed to turn your completely normal sauce purple.

you kiss his lips though and tell him you appreciate the gesture but leave the cooking to you from this point onwards. you do tell him that he can just help you with grocery shopping, saying that his senses would come in handy with picking out fresher veggies and fruits.

OR you decided one day when miguel didn't need to come to hq and was working from home to do a fun little activity you both can partake in. you had everything ready and laid out on the kitchen when you call for your boyfriend in the kitchen.

"baby, can you come here real quick?" you hear his bunny slipper-clad feet shuffling as he approaches you, hair head back by a cat eared headband that originally belonged to you and his glasses perched on his nose. his appearance makes you giggle, earning him a peck on the lips.

"what did you need me for mami?" he questions you, his hand naturally finding its way to your waist. "let's make empanadas together."

this was the only time miguel wasn't a disaster to be in the kitchen.

the whole time he had his eyebrows scrunched together in total concentration, obeying your orders like it's the gospel simply because he wanted them to come out at least edible. you worked so hard to prepare this all for him, the least he wanted was for the empanadas to turn out to be good enough to be eaten and to both your surprise, they do!

some are a little disfigured, others too big or too small with stuffings coming out at the seams but they were more than just edible regardless.

now miguel makes it a tradition between you to make empanadas whenever he works from home.

you don't know how miguel finds the time to buy you gifts when he's already so busy with being spider-man and the leader of the spider society so it really does come as a shock when you would wake up every now and then to a gift on top of his pillow and a note under the neatly wrapped box saying how he had bought it thinking of you.

it's basically routine how he wakes up and leaves before you even get out of bed, sometimes he tells you that you look so comfortable asleep that he struggles to get up and get ready himself. anyways, it's a cute little surprise that he leaves you at least three times a week.

sometimes it's something silly like a fridge magnet or a bunch of sticky tabs for when you're bookmarking something on your books. other times it's so precious it makes you wonder if he's breaking the bank by buying you a diamond necklace like every week.

your jewelry box holds an assortment of accessories, rings with the prettiest rocks, bracelets with his name or yours or an important date lasered on the back, and a bunch of necklaces with delicate chains and tiny but adorable charms. oftentimes he'd leave notes for these stuff saying, 'i remember you said you liked daisies so i got you this' and inside would be a necklace with the prettiest daisy charm hanging in the middle.

miguel is funny, thoughtful and expensive with his gifts. he does believe that it's just another way to make up for having to leave you in the mornings to go to work.

but to you? it's just another thing for you to love about him. to you, it means waking up and looking forward to what life and miguel have in store for you. it makes you feel hopeful about a lasting future with miguel that would one day mean taking on his last name as mrs. o'hara.

[puckpocketed]

Tag game <3 @neonfretra thanking and cursing you for this tag my mind is poisomde… <3

Rules: post your first ever hockey art, your latest hockey art, and your favourite hockey art, then tag three hockey artists

NEONFRETRA you and oensible are 2 of my go-to tag targets for this exact game I’m shaking my fin and cryign…. Anyway . With 0 pressure or expectations . Here are my tags!! mwah <3

@18minutemajor - we don’t interact except when I scream in the reblogs of your posts and that one time but you inspire me to paint all the time every day <3

@kmercer - my comrade my sharpie lid my woolly jumper <3 hello…!

@chownkie - hello… please show us your hokcey art…… I think I saw some from you once but I can’t remember if it was a fever dream…. If it was and u ain’t ever make hockey art then please show us some stuff u like pleag……

if ur an artist and see this . Consider yourself tagged. Photography and other crafts count (TO ME!)

First ever hockey art is technically THIS piece . it’s tangentially hockey related because I got the phrase “enemy of silence” that one time a broadcast fired those exact words at TZ (current favourite annoying girl of all time). My friend Harry was describing his journey to try and pick up books and how the cashier wouldn’t shut up and Harry has MAD stimulation issues when people talk too much at him so he hit da bricks only to have to do it all over again because he’s . Got a store membership and it’s a sunk cost situation which has turned into a horrible timeloop . I drew a representation of it <3

Latest hockey art… well. hockey has actually brought me back to taking my craft a little more seriously + practicing it with so much more joy. every artist on here is so interesting and cool and inspiring waaaaaaaaa <3 So I’ve finally dedicated time to doing a nicely rendered and coloured piece,,, here is a bit of it ! I flirted with the idea of doing it in black and white but then I started having too much fun colour picking and getting my reps in . I hadn’t properly touched my tablet for painting in about a year prior to starting back up about . 3 months ago? and coming back to form has been a journey! But I feel myself improving every day and settling back into my old rhythms/styles. life is so sparklingsweet (<- all one word because that’s the only thing that feels right) I’ve said this before on other platforms but. No matter what is happening in your life, no matter where you are, if you are an artist and you haven’t made anything in a while…Hold on. You will make art again.

Favourite hockey art.. probably my recent pfp! I did the line art for this one in a daze while recovering from an illness ksjcjskjsdk anyway it’s my favourite because a friend/moot messaged me and called it my “time skip” pfp and I just about died laughing. we ARE about to bring Sasuke back to the village….. on god….

1. This is me and my mullet. 2. I wear yellow/orange tinted lenses and have done so for. the past 6-7 years? 8? I’m not counting. Why? they look cool that’s why (also they help with eye strain but I chose the colour because they look cool) 3. Those are real earrings that I do own and they are that big . Gender isn’t just fake it’s a cop inside your head and you need to kill it with prejudice . 4. This will be inaccurate as of. 4 months from now when I get a moon tattoo on my neck <3 I love moons so bad <3

[goblinontour]

I really liked that post you reblogged about being kinder to writers because it’s SO TRUE!! You could spend six months pouring your heart into something and all you’ll get immediately is “when are you writing more then???!” It’s never “I absolutely loved this and hope you can write more someday, here’s what I particularly enjoyed…” it’s just so demanding. This expectation that you can just pump out work for their pleasure like it’s nothing whilst they themselves could never produce the work they’re demanding from you. How entitled do you have to be to not realise it’s actually just rude?

I haven’t published a fan fic in over a year despite still writing them and honestly I love it so much more now because it’s actually for myself again. Sure you miss out on the positive comments but you also don’t feel like all the fun has been sucked out of something that was once meant to be enjoyable. When it starts to feel like trudge to get through then what’s the point anymore?

yeahhh, though i think that was the part i related to the least from that post because i do think i’m craving that validation in one way or another. even though i enjoy writing them, and recently i’ve even started rereading some of my own stuff because there’s literally no one else here except for 2 or 3 people, which i don’t want to pressure into writing more or quicker just because i want to read a fanfic, because i know what goes into it or at least what it’s like for me. the writing part of it has become one of the only things i enjoy doing lately and maybe that’s why it’s been getting worse and worse for me actually because there’s little to no response when i go ahead and post, safe for those mentioned 2-3 people, you know. i don’t know. maybe i’m just messed up. but it’s nice to see when someone takes the time to say something rather than just an empty reblog. and even then i find i have a hard time responding to any positive feedback because i either think ‘are they just saying that to be nice’ or i simply don’t know how to answer and then i forget and then i feel bad for forgetting because they took the time to say those words and blah blah blah.