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[slvttyplum]

my glorious queen plum🙏🏾🙏🏾would you be ever so kind and write a jealous toji fic? i understand if you’re busy and can’t get to this my queen but it would be very much appreciated if you did😍😍😍🙏🏾🙏🏾😊😊😊🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

toji didn't usually get jealous, but when he did, it was a shitshow. he did everything in his power to hold back the feelings he got when he saw someone a little bit too close for comfort near you and doing this weird thing called talking. he didn't like it; he loved when there were clear boundaries between not only him and other people but you and other people as well, and when those boundaries got crossed, it wasn't a good time—well, maybe for you.

one jealous fuck was nothing compared to the hundreds he had lined up because of everyone who tried to talk to you.

he didn't like to fuck you out of spite, but sometimes he just had to. you had a place, and he had to put you in it for you to understand. yes, most of the time the jealousy didn't come directly from what you were doing, but he always found himself having to prove to you time and time again whose pussy that was.

sometimes you would just get too close for comfort with the person you were with, and he would just go off the rails, snatching you up to take you home and fucking you until your legs were numb and you were blabbering, soaking in your fluids mixed with his cum. looking at you with piercing eyes, just to fuck you all over again.

some would say that he fucked you out of anger, but it was pure spite. if someone even walked up to you to utter one word, you should be walked away, but here you were with that beautiful smile on your face, speaking to said person. 

you were caught on to how mad he got when he would fuck you after, and it felt so fucking good it had you moaning his name and the neighbors banging on the wall, telling him you would never do it again, but you were lying off your ass. you were going to do it again until you were satisfied. you couldn't help that the mad look that he got on his face whenever he would fuck you was sexy.

toji could get his emotions under control like a normal person, but he didn't want to. seeing you close to just anyone brought a boiling rage inside his body that he couldn't get rid of. luckily, he had an outlet for his anger, and that was you. instead of just causing a scene with said person, he caused a scene in bed with you, which was way more fun.

after fucking you for hours on end, he didn't really know what he gained from it besides getting you to cum on his dick multiple times; all he knew was that it felt good to rough you up a little. you didn't know what he gained either, but you loved it, craved it, and yearned for the sex where he was putting you through the mattress and making sure he fit every inch deep inside of you.

"is this what you wanted? hm? talk to me." while pushing himself into your sweet spot continually, you were so high on the pleasure that's all you could say—yes,  that's exactly what you wanted. for him to fuck you out of your mind and make your legs sore.

sometimes sensual and slow wasn't always for you. you wanted him to pick you up and just fuck you, so you would have to take realistic measures to ensure that was going to happen, so you had to make him jealous. even when it was clear that he was trying not to get mad, he just failed miserably. 

sometimes jealousy was a good thing.

[pasukiyo]

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 | tom riddle

tom riddle x f!reader 4,488 words warnings: smut. angst. allusions to murder. horcruxes. notes: takes place in 1946, around a year after graduating from hogwarts. summary: there has always been darkness in tom riddle. perhaps you were too blind to see it before. or maybe you’ve known all along, but never acknowledged it until it was too late.

 “Tom! I… fuck! I… I love you!”

 Tears streamed down the sides of her face and pooled on the pillow below as Tom gripped her hip with one hand and her shoulder with the other. His pace was brutal, inhumane almost and it made the headboard slam against the beige wall, her fingers grasping the sheets between them to anchor herself. Her cunt clenched and her walls tightened around him as she came for the second time already, and she sobbed into the pillow, bittersweet pleasure surging through her. 

 Tom groaned at her words, tugging her back against him by the grip he had on her hair, his lips right beside her ear. “Say it again,” he muttered, and she panted, chasing air back into her lungs. “Tell me you love me again.”

 “I… I love you! I love you, I love you, iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou!”

 With something not unlike a growl emitting from his lips, he pushed her back down into the mattress and grabbed both of her hips, throwing his head back when she tightened around him again. He could feel his rage as it began to slip away, all the things that have been on his mind all day slowly melting away, and all he could think about was her and how good she felt. All he wanted right now was to come, to unravel and release himself to her. 

 But a small voice in the back of his head made all his anger surge back into him all at once, and he seemed to pick up his pace again, as if he were digging another orgasm out of her. 

 “I’m sorry, Tom. But you are only eighteen. Much too young to be a professor if you ask me. But, if you are still up for it, come back to me in a few years time. After all, I’ve never seen a student more exceptional at Defense Against the Dark Arts than you.”

 Tom narrowed his eyes at the small of her back as he fucked into her harder, as if it were even possible. He fucked her like he hated her, fucked her like she was his outlet and in a way, she was. Tom couldn’t even begin to describe the day he’d had, not until he did something with all this anger bubbling up inside of him, ready to pop. 

 And when it did, she was there for him, and she willingly offered herself up for him to take all his frustrations out on. 

 When she came for the third time around his cock, he knew that he was close, that the end of his fury was near. All he had to do was chase it, so he thrusted deeper, reaching the spongy spot deep inside of her that had her seeing stars. “Tom!” She screamed, muffled by the pillow. “It feels… oh Merlin, it feels so good.”

 Low grunts emitted from behind Tom’s closed lips as he thrusted again and again and again and again until finally he reached his end, and he fell over on top of her as she cried, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck. 

 “Tom…” she whined as he circled his hips, and he shushed her, pressing kisses to the shell of her ear. “Shhh, quiet,” he whispered as he pulled himself out of her, sliding into the spot on the mattress beside her. He watched as she writhed, and he circled an arm around her, pulling her into his side. She sniffled as she nestled into his chest, resting a hand on his stomach as his fingernails absentmindedly traced patterns between her shoulder blades. 

 A silence fell over them like a warm blanket, and she thought that she never felt so safe, and with Tom touching her so tenderly, she felt the most loved she’d ever been. Tom turned to press his lips against the crown of her head, and she blinked up at him, tears long gone from her eyes but their remnants made her cheeks swollen and sticky. 

 Tom couldn’t help but admire his view.

 “Are you feeling better?” She asked, and he hummed in reply, nodding and fluttering his eyelids closed. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, contemplating whether to question him further. “What happened today?” She couldn’t suppress the urge to ask, and he sighed, rubbing his brow with the pads of his fingers on his opposite hand. 

 Although most of his anger had subsided, it seemed to only make leeway for hate, hate for everything. He hated Hogwarts, the only home he had ever truly had, he hated Defense Against the Dark Arts, he hated Professor Dippet, the Headmaster who had turned him down for the job Tom so desperately desired. He hated everything, he hated anything he could. 

 But not her. Not the woman laying with him. He could never hate her. 

 She was the only thing he could bring himself not to hate in this moment. Hate could have fully taken the reign of his heart, but there would always be a small piece of it that loved her, that would always love her. She was the only thing he had ever learned to love. 

 Which was why it was so easy to tell her everything, to share all his frustrations, his annoyances, anything. She was always there to offer an ear to listen, a body he could lie on, someone he could love. 

 “Dippet turned me down for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job,” he admitted. “Said I am too young.” He left out the part where he jinxed the job so that no one would ever be able to keep it for too long. Except for him. So when Professor Dippet finally came to his senses and gave him the job, he’d know he was a fool for ever rejecting him in the first place. 

 Unfortunately, it would just take time. 

 But Tom Riddle was not a patient man. 

 “Oh darling,” she murmured, nestling closer into him, nudging her nose against the underside of his jaw. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she pressed kisses to his skin. Tom said nothing as she melted into him like candle wax until they were one. The silence was back to pull them in like warmth on a cold winter's day, and eventually, the woman in his arms fell into the depths of slumber, her soft breath like early morning dew on his skin. 

 But Tom stayed awake. 

 He laid there staring up into the ceiling, sinking further and further into the mattress. His mind shifted from the woman sleeping soundly in his arms to the woman who had come into his place of work just the day before. Hepzibah Smith, a foolish woman she was to reveal to a complete stranger that she was a direct descendant of Helga Hufflepuff herself. 

 Another foolish mistake was to reveal to the handsome clerk at Borgin and Burkes that she had come into possession of Helga Hufflepuff’s cup and Salazar Slytherin’s locket. Of course, Hepzibah Smith couldn’t have anticipated who the handsome clerk at Borgin and Burkes really was. She couldn’t have known what was going on inside of his mind, couldn’t have known how strong the storm swirled inside of him, couldn’t have known that she had fallen into his plan like a trap, couldn’t have known how close he was to snapping. 

 Tom Riddle was inevitable. 

 And he was coming. 

 And poor old Hepzibah Smith would have no idea what hit her. 

 The next morning, she stirred awake to find that the bed was empty where Tom would usually be. She moaned and rubbed her closed eyelids with her knuckles, her lips falling agape as she yawned. She sighed and sunk back into the mattress, staring up at the ceiling as she blinked the sleepiness away from her eyes. She guessed Tom must’ve left for work already, much to her dismay. 

 She allowed herself to lay in bed for just a few more minutes before she heaved herself off of the mattress, shivering when the cool air hit her naked skin. She padded over to the wardrobe and dressed herself in a pale blue dress, settling herself down onto her vanity stool as she wrapped a bow around her waist and tied it behind her back, soothing down the wrinkles of her skirt. She winced as she worked a brush through her hair, and when she was done, her eyes fell upon a necklace laid carefully on the edge of the vanity. 

 She picked the locket up and the phantom of a smile curved her lips as she rubbed the pad of her thumb over the deep blue pendant. It was a gift from Tom, given to her just after they had graduated from Hogwarts. He said he had seen it in a shop in Diagon Alley before the year had started, and the moment he had set eyes on it, he knew that it would look dashing on her. 

 She felt warm at the memory, like she’d been kissed by the sun itself. She reached behind her neck to fasten the chain and let the deep blue pendant rest just above her chest before she rose from her seat, making her way down the steps of their home. 

 She could see no sign that he had touched anything before he had left for work, even all the food in the kitchen seemed to be in the place they were the night before. She scowled at this as she toasted a piece of bread, wondering if Tom had even eaten at all before leaving. He’d often forget to take care of himself in favor of getting work done, which was an awfully annoying habit of his. She’d constantly scold him for it, but he’d do nothing to change it. 

 She sighed as she took a bite of her toast. 

 She glanced outside the kitchen window as the morning sun peeked through the thin, yellow curtains on either side of it. It was a beautiful day, and the sun seemed to smile down on the small town of Hogsmeade, basking the village in its warmth. It’d be a perfect day for a stroll around town. 

 She dusted her hands off on a handkerchief and grabbed her small coin purse before making her way over to the front door, swinging it wide open and welcoming the fresh morning air into her lungs. She closed the door behind her and smiled at the next door neighbors, an elderly couple that at times (much like the night before) she was grateful hadn’t the greatest hearing. 

 “Good morning Mr and Mrs Barnable!” She beamed and waved at the couple where they sat on two wooden chairs just outside their home, and they exchanged bright smiles with the young woman passing by, waving their fingers. “Morning, miss!” The elderly woman said as she tended to the scarf she was knitting in her lap. 

 She turned back to face the road ahead of her, grinning and waving at anyone she passed by. She could hear a soft meow from the valley to the right where a small tabby cat sat, and when she kneeled and beckoned it forth, it came trotting up towards her, butting its head into her palm. 

 “Good morning to you too, Miss Kitty,” she chuckled before eventually rising from where she had knelt, making her way further down the street. It wasn’t until she reached Tomes and Scrolls that she stopped, pushing the door open in front of her and stepping inside. 

 “Ah! Good morning miss!” The current owner, Alan Brown, greeted her as she smiled, nodding her head in acknowledgement. “Good morning Mr Brown,” she said, turning to search the shelves of books lining the walls. 

 “Is there anything in particular you are looking for today, miss?” He asked as she dragged the tips of her fingers along the spines of the books, searching for any title that stood out to her. “I’m not yet sure,” she admitted, “do you have any recommendations?”

 Alan Brown pursed his lips as he walked around the counter and past where she stood, and her eyes followed as he searched through the bookshelves before finally seemingly finding what he had been looking for. 

 “Now, I’m not sure if you’ve read this one already or not,” he began, passing the green hardcover into her hands. “But it is one of my favorites. It’s about a wizard who goes on a long and strenuous adventure in search of his soulmate. The author has such a way with words.” She smiled as she gazed down at the book, and she thumbed through the pages, deciding that Alan’s summary had piqued her interest. “Well, I suppose you’ve sold me,” she giggled, tucking the book beneath her arm and digging through her coin purse before passing him a few sickles. 

 “Thank you,” Alan Brown bowed his head in thanks, “and do let me know when you are finished with it. I’d love to hear your thoughts.” She smiled, “of course. I’m sure any book you recommend is certain to be a good one.”

 And when she stepped outside of the small bookshop, Tom Riddle was stepping outside of Hepzibah Smith’s home some miles away, Helga Hufflepuff’s cup— his second Horcrux— and Salazar Slytherin’s locket tucked safely away in his knapsack. 

 He looked both ways before padding his way down the street, and a part of him wondered how long it would take for someone to notice that Hepzibah Smith hasn’t been sticking her big nose in everyone’s business in awhile. He wondered how long it’d take for them to find her, and a part of him already felt a twitch of amusement when they’d attempt to find whoever killed her to only come up with nothing. 

 Fools, he thought they all were. Hepzibah Smith, the Ministry of Magic, all of them. They were nothing more than mere fools. 

 Lucky for him. 

 Tom glanced around the empty street one last time before Disapparating and in mere seconds, he was back in the little town streets of Hogsmeade, his home just up ahead. It was still early in the morning, early enough that she should still be home. 

 He opened the door to their home and looked around, but she was nowhere to be found. He made his way up the steps and into their bedroom but still, she wasn’t there. 

 He knew he couldn’t expect her to be at home all day, but still, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed to come home to an empty house, wishing nothing more than for her to be there. He found himself longing for her again, longing for her touch, her hair, her lips, her skin. She was the only thing he could turn to for comfort, for she was the only one he felt comfortable around, the only one he had brought himself to trust. 

 He trudged back down the stairs a little dispirited, but just as he was about to make his way over to the armchair in the corner of the living room, the front door swung open, and there she came walking in, a soft smile spread on her face. She blinked up at him when she noticed him in the middle of the living room, and she set her new hardcover book on the dining table as well as her coin purse, her grin widening. 

 “Oh! When did you get home, Tom?” She asked, striding up towards him and rolling onto the tips of her toes to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Just now,” he replied simply, his hands on either of her hips as she pulled away. She furrowed her eyebrows, tilting her head. “I thought you must’ve been at work. Where were you?” She asked, and she watched the way Tom’s lips curled into a small grin. 

 There was almost something… off about the way he smiled. 

 “You’ll never believe what I’ve acquired today,” he said, reaching into his knapsack and retrieving both the cup and the locket. She looked at them for a moment before glancing back up at him, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Tom. I’m afraid I do not understand…”

 “This,” he shook the cup in his right hand. “Is Helga Hufflepuff’s cup.”

 She blinked once, twice, thrice. She stepped closer and looked down at the cup in his hand, her fingers soft against the golden Hufflepuff badger, uncertain. “Is it… is it real?” She asked, still unsure what to make of this. He nodded, “one hundred percent authentic.” He held up the locket in his opposite hand, “and this, my darling, is Salazar Slytherin’s locket.”

 She eyed the green serpent in the middle of the locket, but didn’t dare touch it. She withdrew her hands away from the Hufflepuff cup, shaking her head. “But… Tom, how could you afford all this? We haven’t any money…” she trailed off as he carefully placed the Horcrux and the locket back into his bag. Her eyes followed his hands as they reached to cup either side of her face, and he gazed down at her with those strangely dark eyes, somehow darker, murkier than ever. 

 She was the only one who could read Tom Riddle. But right now, she hadn’t even the slightest clue what he was thinking, what was going on inside the strangely beautiful yet mysterious mind of Tom Riddle. 

 “You needn’t worry about that, my love,” he murmured, the pads of his thumbs soothing over either of her cheeks. “You needn’t worry about anything at all,” he whispered against her lips before drawing her in for a kiss, and she watched as his eyelids fluttered closed. Instinctively, she reciprocated the kiss, and she allowed Tom to do whatever he pleased. 

 But she couldn’t stop the storm raging inside of her head even as his kisses trailed down her neck, past the deep blue pendant around it, and to her collarbone where he sucked marks into her skin, his fingers unraveling the bow she had tied so delicately behind her back mere hours before. 

 She couldn’t help but worry over how cryptic he was being, and she wondered if she’d ever know the whole truth. She wondered where he was just before he came home, when she presumed he was at work. Surely nobody came and donated such ancient and magical items to Borgin and Burkes without a high price— but of course, she didn’t know much about the shop that Tom worked at in the first place. 

 Her pale blue dress was being slipped down her arms as Tom’s kisses ventured down to her breasts, and she clutched at his shoulders, squeezing her eyes closed when he took one of her nipples in his mouth. Something was wrong, terribly wrong and she could feel it. But she could worry about it later. She couldn’t bring herself to worry over it anymore, not when Tom made her feel this good. 

 So she let him lead her up the stairs and into their bedroom, let him lay her down gently on the bed, let him tug her dress down her legs and completely off her body. Her heart thud against her chest as she watched him undress himself, unbuttoning his black shirt, sliding his grey trousers down his legs, slipping his feet out of his noir leather shoes. She let him trail kisses all the way from the tops of her feet, up her legs, to the inside of her thighs and all the way to her center where her slick trailed down her slit, unbeknownst to her until he pressed his tongue flat against her, lapping it up. 

 Her toes curled in and she threw her head back against the pillow as Tom toyed her clit with his tongue, gazing up at her through hooded lids. He gave her pearl a long and thorough suck before trailing kisses back up her belly, between the valley of her breasts, up her neck, once again past the pendant on her throat, and creeping up her chin until he reached her lips again. He cradled her head with one of his palms and her eyes fluttered open to meet his, and he thought that this was when he felt most at home. 

 But even he knew that this couldn’t last forever. 

 In fact, it was only a couple of months later that Tom decided what he must do. 

 His heart trembled in his chest as he listened to her sobs whilst he packed his few belongings in his briefcase, and when he slammed it shut, he gazed up at her as he locked it. She, who was once always smiling, whose eyes used to always sparkle even in the darkest hour, now only cried, her eyes bleary and begging him to stay. 

 “Please don’t do this, Tom,” she managed to speak between sobs, her voice wavering and meek, on the verge of breaking. She gathered either of his hands between hers and she squeezed, she squeezed so hard because she knew that this was her one chance to be his anchor, to anchor him here so that he may stay here forever with her. “You can’t… I don’t want you to…” she shook her head, frustrated with herself and him and absolutely everything. “Please don’t leave.”

 She didn’t understand, she couldn’t understand. Nothing could have ever prepared her for this, nothing could’ve prepared her to watch him leave, to go off on a journey all alone for who knows what reason. She’d known Tom since their first year at Hogwarts and since then, she always knew that he was an enigma. But this, this leaving her without giving any reason— it was frustrating. Oh, it was so damn terrifying and it frightened her the way she could feel her heart break, and she feared that she’d never be able to mend it again. 

 For all these years, she’d always had him, always had him by her side and always sought after him on her darkest days, always confided in him and reached out for him when she needed someone. What was she to do now that he was leaving her alone? 

 She never felt like somebody until Tom came along. But with him, she felt important, she felt like she mattered. And now it just felt like he was throwing her away as if she were nothing. 

 Tom said nothing, even though he, too, could feel his heart begin to rupture in his chest. He loved her. He truly did, even though he was terrified of love at first. After all, he’d never loved anything in his life until she came around. 

 And when he allowed himself the luxury of loving her, he knew he was jeopardizing everything he had been working toward ever since Albus Dumbledore had told him why he was different from every other kid at the orphanage, ever since he stepped foot into Hogwarts, ever since he had told himself that he’d be the greatest and most powerful wizard of all time.

 But he made an exception for her, because when he tried to tear away, he found that he couldn’t, he found that he couldn’t bring himself to be without her unless he felt like bleeding. She was like his bandage, holding him together, keeping him going. 

 And so in doing that, he had made his first mistake. He gave himself a weakness. 

 But it had all been worth it, because after all, Tom could never regret loving her, and he knew that no matter what, he’d never forget her. And maybe someday, once he’d successfully split his soul into seven pieces, he’d see her again. 

 But for now, he knew what he must do. 

 He gripped his briefcase and strode out of their bedroom, making his way down the stairs. Of course, she chased after him, just barely managing to grab his elbow when they both reached the bottom of the steps, and she turned him around, grabbing either side of his face. 

 She gazed up into Tom Riddle’s dark irises and saw something more, something she thought she’d seen in a whisper just months before, back when he first showed her Hufflepuff’s cup and Slytherin’s locket. But it was evident now, and she flinched when she saw it. 

 She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed it before, how his skin had gradually become slightly paler than it was before over the months, how the sclera of his eyes were no longer pure white but a bright red. Tom Riddle was still as handsome as she remembered him to be but somehow more… ominous. 

 “What is going on inside that head of yours?” She asked quietly, shaking her head as the hand not cupping his cheek ascended towards his hairline, brushing a loose curl of dark hair away from his sullen face. Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes began to water again when she met his stare once more. 

 After a while, he finally said, “we will see each other again, my love.” He grabbed either of her hands and tenderly pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, squeezing his eyes closed as if to savor this moment. She blinked, and a tear crystal slipped down her cheek and to the floor below. “You must know that I love you,” he murmured, and she knew it. She knew he did. Which was why she couldn’t understand why he was leaving. “And I can give you the life you’ve always wanted. But I must go away for a while first.”

 She shook her head and her hand slithered around to the back of his head, keeping him here, holding him here. “All I want is you,” she whispered, pushing against the back of his head until his forehead fell on top of hers, her other hand squeezing his bicep. “I want to be with you. So please, just stay.”

 Tom squeezed his eyelids shut tight, savoring this last touch before he was willing himself to pull away. Her palm slipped down to his until his touch was ripped away from her altogether, and when he took a few steps backward, she could feel all the scars that Tom had made shine like stars, the scars that he had single-handedly stitched together rip open. 

 Because somehow, she knew that this would be the last she’d see of her Tom Riddle. 

 “We will see each other again,” he repeated in a whisper like a sacred prayer, and she had no doubt about it. But she knew that once he left, everything would change. “But for now, this is goodbye.”

 And at once, her Tom Riddle Disapparated away and her legs wobbled before she fell to her knees, leaving her to bleed all alone in the home that once belonged to them. 

a/n; a little something i thought up last night after watching a cardigan tasm edit LMAO but honestly i love this song and i feel like it kind of fits tom???

| 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

@darkmoviesquotespizza @lyis 🥹🫶

[sweetracha]

Kinky Sprinkles #2: Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin was always known for his artistic abilities. It seemed like every week he found a new outlet for his creative genius. Of course, he had his tried and true methods like dance and painting. However sometimes, when he was in a creative rut, he needed to explore more unusual mediums.

When he walked in with a paper bag from the craft store and a bright smile on his face, you knew he had found his new hobby of the week. Hyunjin sat at the edge of your shared mattress. It was clear to you that he had a question on his mind.

"I see you found something new to try. Can I see?" You sit up, trying to peer into the bag but were quickly denied.

"I did, but I need your help with it"

"Jinnie, I'm not an artist like you are. Why would you need my h--"

"I need you to be my model. It'll make more sense if you just meet me in the studio. I suggest wearing your robe...and only your robe." With a lingering sensual kiss to your lips, he disappeared.

After touching up your appearance and wearing the suggested attire, you made your way to his studio. You weren't sure what you were going to find, but having all of his equipment shoved to the walls and a singular tarp on the floor wasn't what you pictured.

"Oh, you're here! I just finished setting up. " Hyunjin slowly walked over to you. His hair was up in his signature pony tail, and he wore his painters shirt, which was an old white button-up stained in paint. "Let me help you with that." Hyunjin slender hands began to strip you from the robe.

"What exactly are we doing?"

"You, my muse, you are the canvas tonight." Hyunjin began to pull out his new paints. "Please go lie down, my love"

Hours had passed now. Your body was covered in blue and green hues. Clouds of white and pink covered your bare chest while wildflowers littered your bottom half. You weren't sure what he painted on your back, but the way he massaged your skin beforehand was intoxicating. How you didn't cum from his fine-haired bristles on your nipples shocked you. You just hope he didn't notice how your wetness was making the paint on your thighs bleed.

"And....I think...wait a second" one last flick of the brush near your clit. "And we are done! Let me help you up, my masterpiece. Couldn't mess it all up now." He outstretched his hand like a prince. You gladly accepted.

Hyunjin walked you to the mirror where you stood in awe. You really did look like a work of art. Hyunjin began twisting and turning you in the reflection so you could see everything. Your back was the same scene as before but shrouded in night. Golden yellow stars span across your shoulder blades. While you were admiring the work, it seemed Hyunjin was admiring something else.

His hands that were used to paint you began to gently caress your sides as if they were their own paintbrush. His head found its way into the crook of your neck. He slotted himself perfectly behind you and held your gaze in the mirror. Sensual silence filled the studio. Soft kisses were being left on your skin. Cascading down your back.

"Hyun, you'll mess it up" you whined.

"Y/n let the artist decide, I think it looks better this way." Hyunjin ended up in front of you now and began kissing his way down your body again. He made sure to spend extra time kissing the clouds. When he made his way to the poppies and daisies, he kneeled. Big blown-out eyes stared up at you. Hyunjin's face was covered in the paint he washed off of you. If he wasn't bracing you with hands on your thighs, you would have collapsed.

"The best part, baby?" A single kiss was left on your clit and a soft whimper left your lips. "It's edible"

[bookshelf-dust]

“the period lessons.”

gareth emerson x fem!reader

word count: 1,657

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, back/abdominal pain, other period symptoms, mentions of female anatomy; gareth is ever the empath and sweetheart

a/n: apparently i’ve got a new obsession and that’s the nickname “sugar.” so get used to it, because i’m gonna sneak it in every chance i get, i swear. i apologize if it’s chaotic as i did write the majority of this on my period and there were a lot of things happening. i hope you like it!! <333

————

He was meant to come over today. You’d given him the okay when he called a few nights ago, your voice sweet with the prospect of seeing him.

“You’re sure it’s okay, sugar?”

“I’m sure, Gare. I miss you.”

But you hadn’t planned on your period arriving a few days early, setting you up nicely with debilitating cramps and back pain, the double-sided ache making the bed call your name.

You should’ve expected it, really, what with all the stress you’d been under lately—the semester rounding out, papers due and piling up. But, here you were.

You stood in front of the linen closet, eyes scanning for the familiar pale cover of the heating pad. Finding purchase, you snatched it out, untangling the cord as you walked down the hall.

Crouching, you fumbled with the outlet near your bed, scrambling to plug the device in, your back now throbbing, pain shooting out in waves and your palm doing nothing to soothe it.

Too lazy to take any medicine that could help, and—let’s face it—wanting to prove to yourself that you could take the pain, you splayed out in bed, tucking the warming pad between you and the mattress, wincing at the stabbing in your abdomen.

You glanced at the calendar hanging on your wall, that being enough to bring you out of your stupor and remember that Gareth was probably on his way over, angry at yourself for forgetting in the midst of pre-treating your blood stained underwear.

Gareth, on the other hand, had been practically giddy to see you all weekend. He’d gone to Family Video and picked up a couple movies you wanted to see. He didn’t want anything else than to just sit with you for a while. Sit with his pretty baby.

He pulled up outside your house, but he started to worry when he got out, noticing you hadn’t bounded out to meet him. Like you always did. He’d grown used to you waiting by the window for his car to appear, hopping down the stairs and slamming yourself into him. But you weren’t there.

Maybe you’d been in the bathroom, he thought. Maybe you’re just busy. But it was so unlike you. He couldn’t help the chill that spread through his body, and it wasn’t just because it was below freezing in Hawkins.

Gareth let himself in, making his way to your room. He knocked on the door frame before peeking in. “Sugar? You in here?”

His blue eyes found yours where you lay on your side, arm over your stomach to keep the heating pad exactly where you wanted it, knees pulled up almost to your chest. You sat up, wincing at the stab of pain in your pelvis.

“Gare.” You held your arms out and he came to you, dropping the movies on your side table.

“What’s the matter baby?” He asked, brushing your hair out of the way and rubbing at the sheet marks on your cheek. “You didn’t come out to see me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got my period yesterday and the second day’s always the worst and it hurts and I kinda forgot you were coming because there’s been so much blood and I just got frazzled an—”

“Hey, shh. It’s okay!” He grinned at you, smile lines forming on either side of his mouth. “I’m not upset. I understand.”

He really did. Gareth had three women in his life: his mother and two sisters. When his sisters got old enough that they needed to prepare for periods that might start at any point, his mom made Gareth sit in on what she called “the period lessons.”

His mom didn’t want him to think it was something bad or something to be scared of, and especially not something he shouldn’t know about because he was a boy.

So, Gareth learned what a period was, why they happen, what to do when they happen, and all about female anatomy. And since then he’d gone on many a supply run, memorizing what kind and size of everything his sisters needed when they were low.

You telling him this didn’t bother him in the slightest, and he told you as much. You were pleased that he’d had a good education and hoped you’d remember to thank his mom later.

“Is it really bad this time around?” He sat on his knees in front of you, hands on your thighs while he let you play with his hair considering that seemed to calm you down.

“Yeah. They get worse when I’m stressed.” He nodded, following along. “Heavier. My cramps get worse. But my back is always the worst part. S’ killin’ me, Gare.”

His hands moved to the bottom of your spine almost on instinct, trying to rub the pain away. “What can I do for you? To help?”

“Nothing, really. Being here is enough.” The small grin you offered made Gareth’s heart sting. Your eyes found the tapes on the table. “What’d you bring?”

He pulled away from you. “Oh. Found some movies you talked about. Thought maybe we could watch them.”

You could feel your mood change, like a wave crashing over your mind. “Oh no, Gareth, does this ruin your plans? Did I mess something up? I didn’t ask the other night what you wanted to do this weekend.”

Gareth laughed softly, and your brow furrowed at the reaction. He reached up, thumb smoothing out the line in your skin.

“Your vagina is bleeding out, your body is punishing you for not getting pregnant, and you’re worried about what I wanted to do this weekend? You’re such a dumbass.”

“Wow, thanks sweetheart.” That only made him laugh harder before he scooped you up in his arms, flopping down on your bed and taking you with him.

He looked down at where your stomach touched his. “You’re hot.”

“No, you.”

“Oh, fuck off. You have the heating pad out or something?”

“Yeah, was alternating between my back and my tummy.” You looked up, met with blue eyes boring into yours, catching you off guard.

“What?” You brushed a curl out of his eye.

Gareth was scanning your face, noticing how tired you looked, catching how you’d wince every few minutes at something hurting you. He hated that you were in pain. “Sorry for tackling you. You want the pad back?”

You clocked the change in his demeanor quickly, that becoming increasingly easy these days. “What’s wrong, Gare? You don’t have to apologize for playing around with me.”

“Nothing, I just don’t like that you’re in pain. And you were probably comfy and I tossed you about. Is there something I can do for you, baby? Sorry, I just really hate that you’re hurting.”

You were kind of shocked at the admission, not because of his saying it, you’d expect nothing less from Gareth, but because no one had ever cared about your period pains that much. It was just something you got over.

You thought for a moment. “We could watch a movie and you could lay with me, and you could rub my tummy while the heating pad is on my back.” You grinned at him, liking your own idea very much.

“Sure thing, sugar. Whatever you want.”

You settled next to him on the bed, covered in blankets, the warmth helping your back. Gareth’s hand was under the hem of your shirt, rubbing at the pudge of your belly over where you’d told him it hurt, callouses comforting you by the minute.

He’d put in Back to The Future, since you’d both seen it numerous times, and that way you could talk to each other if you wanted without missing anything important. You’d save the new movies for later.

“What does it feel like? Your period. Like the blood and stuff, but also the pain I guess?” You shifted to look at him.

“Hm. Most of the time it’s not like I can actively feel the bleeding, I just know it’s happening. But sometimes when I move, or sneeze, or laugh even, I can feel a gush of blood. It’s rather unpleasant.” He wrinkled his nose, mirroring yours as you recounted the feeling.

“The back pain is just a really bad ache. But it, like, radiates? It’s all over the bottom of my back and it doesn’t pass like cramps. It just keeps on. That on top of stomach pain is fucking ass, Gare.”

He smiled at your comment, feeling shitty knowing you had to go through this and men got to just brush it off or act like it was this nasty thing.

“That sounds horrific.”

You laughed softly at him, and the sound made his stomach flip. It never failed to.

“It is. And I get really, really sad and frustrated easily. So I’m glad you’re here. I haven’t had someone to love on when I get overwhelmed before.”

You cuddled deeper into his side, slipping your hand under his shirt to rub the squish of his tummy. Your fingers ran over his happy trail, and you felt him shiver.

“Well I’m up for being loved on.” He tapped your cheekbone, signaling for you to look at him.

When you did, he leaned down and planted a sweet kiss on your lips. “Did you have a sucker earlier? Taste like strawberry.”

“I did. The girls got them for a sleepover but they saved me some. I was told, ‘Give these to your pretty girlfriend. We like her more than you.’ So naturally I took some and brought others to share.”

You laughed at him and snuck your hand up further on his tummy. Gareth’s hand found your back, securing the heating pad against it for you.

You leaned up and kissed him again, eliciting a content hum from the boy. A little while later you heard him mumble, “Doc, are you tellin’ me you build a time machine out of a DeLorean?”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[your-divine-ribs]

Kinktober 🖤 The Show

"All of your orgasms belong to me baby, you should know that by now."

Words: >1k // Prof Van // sex toys

Kinktober Masterlist Main Masterlist

The rules were quite simple. Very easy to understand and even easier to follow. Especially for 'a clever girl like you'. Thats what he'd said. Those specific words.

It wasn't a lack of intelligence though, more a desire to misbehave, challenge 'authority' and go against the grain. Break the rules. And breaking the rules can only mean one thing.

Punishment.

"What the fuck is this?"

Your cheeks are glowing with embarrassment, your hands clasped in front of you, fingers wringing together to stave off your nervous energy. Exhilaration flows through your veins like electricity, making your heart pump double time.

You weren't expecting this, to see your Professor here, in your hotel room of all places, standing by your bed, holding that particular object.

"Don't you know what it is Sir?" Your voice is thick with sarcasm, deliberately meant to provoke and it has the desired effect. A storm's brewing in his icy blue eyes, jaw clenching as he stares you down.

"Don't get smart with me," he tells you, still holding the offending object up in the space between you. The scene paints a humorous picture and you'd probably be giggling behind your hands if it wasn't for your charged stand-off, the fact that you know you're going to have to pay some sort of humiliating price for your blatant flouting of the rules. One that you're wholly looking forward to. You rub your thighs together surreptitiously under your summer dress, feeling sticky heat there.

"It's a stupid rule anyway," you venture, bravery and arousal spurring you on, taking a step further into the room, closer to the bed. "I don't know how many times I gotta tell you a girl has needs, and if they don't get fulfilled..."

"This fulfils you then?" He cuts you off, tone incredulous, thrusting the vibrator forward into your face. "Like I told you... bad girls don't get to come whenever they want. They have to earn it. And you've not been good enough. Nowhere near."

"So what am I supposed to do then huh?" You shrug insolently, letting a devious smile twitch at your lips. You'd considered lying but the notion was only fleeting. You could have told him that you'd abstained, that you'd not actually used the toy on yourself, that it had just accompanied you on your trip out of habit, that you'd not made yourself come twice with it just this morning in tune to fantasies of your hot Professor fucking you senseless on the hotel room balcony whilst the city below thrummed with life. You could have done it but where was the fun in that? Sure, being a good girl for Van had its merits, there were times when the two of you were together when he was kind and gentle and sweet, vanilla being the preferred flavour of the moment, but those times were few and far between. You craved his dark and deviant side the most, that addictive cruel streak that liked to degrade and debase you, the one that got off on watching you squirm for his own amusement.

"Get on the fucking bed... now."

His eyes flash as he barks the instruction at you, a gulp catching in your throat as you obey, kicking off your sandals and sitting down on the soft mattress before scooting yourself backwards until you're sitting facing him, propped up on the fluffy pillows.

He begins to pace as he talks and it brings to mind how he moves when he's in the lecture hall. You follow his every move, eyes flicking between his stern countenance to the vibrator he still holds in his outstretched hand. It's your favourite toy, eight inches in length and delectably thick, the soft silicone lightly ribbed with life-like veins and a slight curve at the end that hits your g spot just right. Whilst it matches your well-endowed Professor in length and girth it doesn't give quite the same pleasure, but sexually frustrated girls don't always get to choose their preferred outlet for relief, and Van knew exactly what he was doing when he got you wound up so tight that you were bound to break. It was only a matter of time and he knew that full well.

"I told you Y/N, I gave you very specific and strict instructions not to get yourself off or fuck about on this trip without my permission." He turns on his heel as he comes to a stop in front of the bed, hungrily eyeing your bare legs which are stretched out temptingly under the hem of your short dress. You look right back at him, full of excitement and anticipation as his expression slowly starts to change and morph, his lips curling into a sly smile as he considers the most appropriate lesson for your recent transgression.

"Seeing as you're so fucking desperate to get yourself off all the time it's your lucky day today." He tosses the vibrator down on to the bed next to you, turning to pull up a chair at the foot of the bed which he sits down on, leaning back in a casual pose.

"Now you're going to show me how you use this thing. I want to see exactly how good it makes you feel. I wanna see you fuck yourself with it just like the needy little whore you are... over and over and over again until I say you've had enough. All of your orgasms belong to me baby, you should know that by now."

Sorry this one’s so short and cuts off before the actual smut - think of it like a trailer for the Italy trip as I’m definitely including this scene (I’m so close to catching up on posting this story so I just hope I have the motivation to update it regularly after because I have sooooo many ideas!)

[miasmaghoul]

im tired and sad so have 1.7k of aeon/dew hurt/comfort ft light angst and f e e l i n g s

(rated explicit for a somewhat dubious handjob)

Sleeping on the bus has proven to be a challenge for Aeon.

The motion is soothing for some, likes waves on the sand, but for the first two weeks all Aeon could focus on was his lumpy mattress and every bump they hit. The exhaustion eventually set in, though, and when you're tired enough it's easy to sleep though damn near anything.

It helps that things get familiar after a while. The movement feels less like a disruption and more like gentle rocking, the mechanical sound of the bus fading into little more than white noise. By week three, the only thing that can wake Aeon is his phone alarm.

And, apparently, Dew crawling into his bunk in the middle of the night.

He was quiet about it, Aeon hadn't heard a thing, but the bunks are small. Cramped. It's hard not to be jostled awake when someone joins you unexpectedly, no matter how subtle they try to be about it.

Aeon doesn't know how late it is, but he was deep enough asleep that he can't find his voice. Instead, he blinks at Dew, bleary and confused. Trying to process, to focus. Dew, for his part, doesn't say anything either. He simply molds himself to Aeon's side and nuzzles into his shoulder. Rests a hand on his stomach, just above the hem of his shirt. It's so...new.

It's not that the pair of them haven't had their share of encounters, but never anything like this. It's always been frenzied, rushed. Filled with frantic desire that needed an outlet, always right after a show. Dew has never slept with him, has never come to him with anything approaching softness, and between that and the haze still clouding his mind, Aeon doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

He settles on wrapping an arm around Dew, asking in a thick voice,

"Wha's up?"

Dew says nothing, now fiddling with the drawstring of Aeon's pajama pants. (They're his favorite ones - purple cotton, decorated with monkeys and bananas, a road gift from Aether.) He tries again, and after a moment Dew heaves a small sigh. He won't offer anything further, thought, and Aeon doesn't pry. He's so tired, automatically rubbing small circles into Dew's back and deciding that any questions can wait until his brain is working again.

Aeon hums when Dew snuggles closer, chuffing out a soft laugh when Dew presses his nose to neck and breathes him in. He's so warm, so close, and Aeon feels himself starting to drift off. Cozy and peaceful.

That is, of course, right up until Dew's lithe fingers slip right underneath his waistband to pet at his soft cock.

Aeon gasps, jolts, but Dew doesn't seem to notice. His sleepy brain struggles to process everything - Dew's hand slowly but surely working him up, Dew's nose at his throat, those long legs tangled with his own under his thin blanket.

"Dew?" He only manages to slur the name out when Dew wraps that hot hand around him and begins to stroke. They're tight pulls, designed to hit every sensitive spot and get him leaking pre in no time.

"Shh," Dew finally speaks - more of a hiss, really - soft lips at the juncture of Aeon's shoulder. "Just...just let me do this, okay?"

It's a bad idea, he's pretty sure. Why, he doesn't know, but something in the back of Aeon's head tells him so. Warns that this isn't something he should allow, that he should tell Dew to stop.

Dew thumbs over the tip, and against his better judgement, Aeon doesn't stop him. Doesn't even try, can't. Not when that elegant hand works him so expertly. Everything's hazy, syrupy slow, and as much as Aeon feels like it's wrong...fuck does it feel good.

Dew doesn't so much move from his spot, plastered to his side with his face buried in Aeon's throat. Breathing. Not even kissing, just measured inhales and shaky sighs. He can't help the way his hips move, jerking up into Dew's skilled hand as he's dragged far too quickly to an orgasm his body and mind really aren't prepared for.

"Close," he gasps, more of a realization than a warning, eyes flying open to focus on the barely-lit imagine of Dew milking him under the covers.

Dew doesn't so much as groan in response, simply adds a delicate twist of the wrist and before Aeon knows it he's biting his lips shut to hold back his moan as he spills in his pants, dribbling over Dew's knuckles and into his own happy trail.

Dew holds him through it, until the very last twitch, and then suddenly that warmth at his side vanishes. In a blink, the little ghoul is gone, back to his own bunk with quiet steps.

Aeon stares at the ceiling, still coming down, and in the absence of Dew's warmth he can feel that the collar of his shirt is wet. So's his neck, right where Dew had planted himself. He groans as he wipes at the moisture, figuring it's spit, but even in his addled state he knows it's the wrong consistency. Aeon frowns, licks the fluid from his fingers and - his phone screen lights up, grabbing his limited attention, and he fumbles for it with a deep yawn. It takes him a long moment to make out what's on the too-bright screen.

It's a pair of texts. From Dew. Just a handful of words, but they speak volumes. D: you smell like aether D: im so sorry

All at once, the tears on his tongue make sense.

Aeon rolls from his bunk without hesitation, knees wobbly and body heavy. He slowly follows the track lighting on the bus floor two rows down, stumbling as they hit a bump. Dew's curtain is pulled, but Aeon doesn't give it more than a moment of thought before he's tugging it to the side and peering inside.

The sight makes his stomach twist.

Dew's facing the far wall, curled into the tightest ball he can manage, wracked with fine shivers. The softest sniffles emanates from his tiny form, and something in Aeon's chest goes unbearably tight.

He doesn't say a word, doesn't ask or warn. Simply crawls into the cramped space, awkwardly draws the curtain shut, and presses himself flush to Dew's back. Wraps an arm around his slight waist and holds him tight. Presses a kiss into soft hair that smells of cinnamon, burnt sugar and fresh sweat.

He knows it's bad when Dew doesn't try to push him away.

Aeon holds him until the shakes pass, until his body relaxes. Waits until Dew straightens his legs and heaves a deep sigh.

"'m sorry," he finally breathes, barely audible over the rumble of the bus, but Aeon hears it clear as day.

"'s okay," he murmurs, thought he really isn't sure that it is. His brain is swiss cheese, muddled with exhaustion and the last dregs of his unexpected orgasm. He can worry about that later, though. "Wanna talk about it?"

Dew sniffs, shakes his head, but then pauses. Seems to consider. Then he's moving, squirming until Aeon lifts his arm and shifts back, finally turning to face him. The bunk is dark, but Aeon can still make out the molten copper of Dew's eyes, as well as the moisture lining them while Dew settles in against him. While he tangles their legs and balls both fists in Aeon's shirt.

"I just," his voice sounds so small, threaded with pain and frustration, "I just...I feel so fuckin' stupid."

Aeon wraps a gangly arm around him again, rubs his back, and with a soft sob Dew's tears start to fall once more. He clings to Aeon like he's terrified he'll disappear, and Aeon shuffles closer in response. Until he can rest his forehead against Dew's and soothe him with soft sounds.

"You really miss him, huh?"

Dew laughs through a sob, a hysterical sound, and Aeon decides that talking can wait.

He moves away, just a little, and Dew seems to panic. He paws at him, grips his shirt, but Aeon just slips a gentle hand into the little ghoul's hair and kisses his forehead.

"I'm not leaving, don't worry," he assures, soft and so sleepy. Dew gulps, breathing heavy through his mouth, but nods after a moment. Lets Aeon shift onto his back, lets him rest his head on the pillow and haul Dew to his side. "Here," he says, gesturing at his neck, "if it helps, you can-"

Dew doesn't wait for him to finish, burying his face in Aeon's neck and inhaling like he's starved for air. His exhale is stilted, choked, but something in the little ghoul seems to relax with each deep breath. The tension laced through every inch of him slowly fades, but Aeon can still feel his tears soaking into his shirt. He doesn't mention it.

Soon enough, Dew's breathing evens out. He's warm and loose, one leg hooked over Aeon's thigh and an arm tight around his waist. He feels so much smaller like this, Aeon thinks. So much more vulnerable than he should. He'll probably deny this ever happened, claim that Aeon was seeing things, but that's alright.

Soft snores kick up while Aeon's still staring at the ceiling, and finally he lets himself relax enough for sleep to tug at his own lids. In the morning, whether Dew likes it or not, they'll talk about this. He'll make sure Dew knows that he always has a place at his side, if he needs it. Until he can get back to the one he really wants.

For now, he can be a stopgap. For now, that will have to be enough.

For the both of them.

Aeon presses a kiss to Dew's hair, and when sleep finally takes hold again, he swears a soft voice says thank you.

[emeryhall]

prompts: hot, humid, water & sweat

CW: bordering on explicit

Remus Lupin had ceased to be shocked by words. Bodies comprised of crooks and holes and ridges wrapped in skin that stretched and breathed—that could overwhelm him. But words? At 36 and publisher of the gay poetry zine, Assonance, he thought he had read everything. He had printed poems about blond boys in bathhouses, public masturbation, the slick sound the handle of a heavily vaselined whip makes as you work it into your lover’s ass. What he hadn’t read—that is until this morning over breakfast—was a poem about himself. 

His top floor apartment was silent and still. He could hear his bare footsteps on the kitchen’s hardwood floor. The flick of the button on the coffee maker, the drip of coffee hitting coffee, the pop of ready toast. 

He sat at the table and placed his mug on the most recent submission to Assonance, where it left a damp ring. A perfect circle around the poem’s title and dedication: 

Palm in Neon For R.L.

It was not the “R.L.” that caught his attention. R.L. could be any number of people’s initials. No, it was the title. His reaction to it was visceral. He could feel the press of a hand against his stomach. 

Summer in San Francisco is cool 50s, but thinking about that skin against his and it was the very tip of a New York summer, the slow end of August 1971. 

He took a sip of coffee and read: 

What are you thinking?

I am thinking of August on asphalt. I am thinking of fire hydrants split and spilling. The cigarette butt pulled from your lips, a tiny fire that sizzles in the crook of the curbed river streaming to the ready drain.

You could fry an egg on the sidewalk, you said. And I think of a delicate shell cracking against cast iron. Later a pool of viscid liquid. Your stomach hard asphalt, hot iron.

We clung to subway poles, touching sweat to metal, but not each other. Shuddering with the clatter and the seconds suspended in blackness released to the blank eyes of underground animals. Yours on me though, glassy with trust and alcohol. Remarkable that you would come home with me.

We ascend into New York’s silence. The mumble from stoops, glass shattering the air at 2 a.m. no different than the air at 2 p.m. in its murkiness.

The street lamps wear wet halos.

My palm leaves a damp print on the stairwell wall as I kiss you into graffiti under a dying bulb.

In my room, it is too hot to speak of touching so we drag the bare mattress. You backwards, me burdened. Still wordless. Wordless with laughter, laughter at our clumsiness our need our risk our hope. Our corner of the roof and sky.

Your skin a sunset, gold and glazed in pink and purple. I place my palm in neon against the flat of your abdomen. Hot asphalt, hard iron, sperm smeared and hazy in your sweat. It fits perfectly in pink boundaries. My wrist dispersing light.

We should not be here come morning, but we are. Folded into our corner the way you fold against my chest. Laundry flickers dull colors above us. A shirt sleeve lax in the still air. I feel you stir as I stir. The stiff fabric of starched jeans pinned on the line. I hold you motionless. It is too light for this. And yet if we are silent. Wordless. The slight shift of your leg. The sheet barely rustles. And I need nothing more.

What are you thinking?

You asked. Of our future. Is what I did not say.

— S.B. 

The mug slipped in Remus’s hand. He wiped his palms against his pajamas. He could feel the sheen of sweat on his stomach, at the roots of his hair, like his body wanted to relive the words. 

He’d met Sirius Black at a bar in Greenwich Village. Some kids must have unscrewed the outlet of a fire hydrant because water poured down the street. He’d accepted a cigarette and leaned against the brick wall feeling like it was too hot to have even this small blaze near his face. As they walked to the subway, he flicked the butt into the rush of water flowing between the street and sidewalk. 

Everything was there. The subway ride, the kiss in Sirius’s stairwell. The stifling heat of his Upper East Side apartment, so oppressive that they couldn’t bear to have their bodies next to each other, so they’d drunkenly dragged the mattress up a flight of stairs. When they emerged onto the roof, they weren’t alone. Several other mattresses dotted the tarpapered landscape, each with bodies sleeping restlessly. They’d hesitated, but found a far corner tucked behind an outcropping of chimneys. Someone had strung their drying laundry between one of the chimneys and an antenna pole and they lay beneath it. 

He’d come on his stomach from Sirius’s hand wrapped around him, and as he lay there naked and sticky, they’d realized that the building next-door had a neon sign in its window. A pink palm, purple script above it reading Psychic, Know Your Future. From that angle, the sign’s illumination left a glowing palm on Remus’s belly, and Sirius placed his hand within the outline, fitting it perfectly, the base of his palm resting in the pool of come. 

They were naked under a thin sheet on a shared rooftop when they woke the next morning, and they knew they should dress quickly, hurriedly drag the mattress back to Sirius’s bedroom, but instead they’d had sex. Spooning, barely moving, trying not to make a sound. The very stillness of it a pressure and a release. 

“What are you thinking?” Remus asked. 

Sirius said something about the heat. Neither of them mentioned the future. Remus boarded a flight back to San Francisco, never got a phone number, but he left his card behind: Publisher, Assonance. 

* * *

@wolfstarmicrofic

word count: 1000 (exactly!)

I wanted to write a fic about gay poetry zines post-Stonewall (real thing) and New York before AC was common. Then it turned into a poem.

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Watercolors (FishTank Week)

Summary: When the water takes, he creates.

Characters: Virgil, Gordon (are you surprised?)

Words: 1,840

Warnings: Past loss on a rescue. Nothing shown, just the feelings.

Special thanks to @the-original-sineater for the read through and excellent advice as always.

A/N: When we hit FishTank week, I knew I wanted to do a spin on the crafty of the bunch, so I’ve been wanting to write this for awhile. Life. It gets away from you. But this is my very late take on “Arts and Sciences” day, plus Math!Scott makes an appearance for ya. :D

And since the timing aligns, this is also for @gumnut-logic, @knyee, and @astranite, as y'all have definitely been inspiring me lately with such lovely pieces to get me off my butt. I hope you don't mind the overlap, but I feel like this pairs well with gumnut’s take on Virgil painting on the floor here, inspired by knyee’s artwork here. And astranite’s lovely watercolors of Two and Four have been such lovely reminders of this idea that's been stirring at my brain. If any of you haven't yet, go give them some love first. This is for you, and for all of the crafty fam. You all are so incredibly talented, and I don’t know how I got so lucky finding a place in this fandom.

Read on Ao3 [this is my 50th work on the archive!!]

*****

Watercolors

Virgil awoke well-rested, but with the sudden memory that they’d lost people yesterday. It had been a comfort in his dreamless, beyond-exhaustion sleep to exist where that hadn’t happened, but while awake it was all too recent to forget. The itch on his scalp scolded him for crashing before removing what remained of the gel out of his hair, but at least he’d managed to change into something resembling sleepwear the night before.

Physically refreshed but weary, Virgil took an additional twenty minutes to wash up and change, the steam from the shower lifting the world from his shoulders just that little bit – enough for his heart to accept that it was a new day. And it would be what he made of it.

He rolled his dirty clothes into his sheets and tore them from the mattress, placing them in a laundry basket he kept outside his bathroom. It was better to have them somewhere organized, just in case the machines down the hallway were already in use by someone else in the family. Luckily, they were not, and it wasn’t until he started his pile on the wash cycle that he realized he could hear the steady pitter-patter of rain on the less sound-proofed walls of the utility room.

His stomach dropped, realizing his co-pilot was cooped up without his usual outlets on a day like today. Though he wouldn’t put it past Gordon to still find solace outside in the rain if he was that determined to be among the water. Hopefully nowhere near the storm-raged sea; Gordon knew better.  Four hadn’t been fast enough yesterday, and Gordon, for all his outward carefree nature, would be feeling the loss just as much as him. It was one thing to say they couldn’t save everyone; it was another thing all together when their ships weren’t fast enough. Or they weren’t enough.

Even John had thought they could make it.

Mother Nature – she provides, and she takes.

A quick check in with Scott over comms revealed he and Alan were actually already attending to their brother in the satellite station above Earth. John had wanted Scott to check on the probability calculations of yesterday’s program, not trusting his own analysis being so close to the problem. At Eos’ absolute offense, Scott was there to provide another set of eyes, he admitted to Virgil. Smart move bringing along Alan, Virgil thought. Not just because of Three, but because Alan was best at giving John a distraction, via one of their online games or “space talk” or both.

“What have you found?” Virgil asked curiously. 

Scott grimaced, admitting he didn’t think he’d find anything wrong with the program. These things just happen. And, unfortunately, Virgil had to agree – he had the upmost faith in Scott’s math, John’s programs, and Eos’ quick computing.

“Hey, check in on the Squid when you can?” his brother asked, frowning at the numbers through a tirade from the AI. “I couldn’t find him earlier.”

His thoughts exactly.

He signed off with an FAB and sent a prayer off to the stars for his brother’s continued patience. For John’s sake. Despite the circumstances, it made him smile knowing Eos and Scott had gotten at least comfortable enough to argue math. John and Eos both were in good hands.

Gordon was in his.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take Virgil long to find him, and he hadn’t needed to start scouting the Island in the rain to do so. Gordon was safe inside, sitting at the kitchen table when Virgil entered to prepare his morning cup of coffee. The aquanaut was hunched over something – Virgil couldn’t quite see what since he had his back to him, but he recognized the poor posture of when Gordon was hyper-focused on whatever was in his hands.

He slid up to him and placed his hand gently on the curl of his spine between his shoulder blades. “Straighten up before you hurt yourself.”  Virgil was guilty of it too at times, but with Gordon’s bad back, he obviously needed the reminder this time. Obediently, Gordon pressed his shoulders down and stretched his neck from side to side where he’d accidentally formed stress in his muscles.

“Oh, ow. I forgot,” he grinned sheepishly up at Virgil, who used the opportunity to glance down at the table for just what had taken Gordon’s attention so completely to forget the key guidelines for the health of his spine. He was usually so attentive to that.

Virgil raised his eyebrow at the familiar array of art supplies in chaos across the kitchen table – a paint palette or two, his watercolors, the cup he used for his paint water complete with a selection of brushes tucked inside.

“I’ll replace everything.” Gordon at least had the good sense not to mess with his top shelf brushes, and expensive paints. So that’s where he’d been then while Scott was looking for him: in his studio. Automatically he bristled at the realization Gordon had been through his stuff without his permission, and it showed on his face despite him trying to reel in the immediate annoyance. Gordon noticed, adding, “I didn’t want to wake you. I think I found the more basic stuff, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Virgil grumbled, even though he didn’t often use his watercolors.

“Then go get some coffee so you’ll be less mad at me. Pot’s already made.”

Irritatingly, Gordon was right, and the aroma of fresh brewed coffee relaxed him while the caffeine surged through his system with a warm awareness. Feeling more himself, if not a bit more inspired by the rhythm of the rain against the closed glass despite the lack of sun, he sat across from him and grabbed one of the fresh postcard-sized, art-grade papers from the pile.

On one of Virgil’s palette trays, Gordon had mixed yellow and vermillion, forming a warmer shade of golden light for the shadows, and for the first time, Virgil inspected the artwork of Gordon’s piece, the confident movements of the brushstrokes, and the well-portioned ratio of water to paints. It was no work of a beginner.

“Wait, you’ve done this before!”

Gordon flicked his eyes upward to meet his gaze, “It’s been awhile. Nowhere near like you.  This is all the product of tutorials.”

“Still - Wow, since when?” He had no idea Gordon had tried anything similar to his own passions for art.

“There’s nothing to do in a bathyscaphe, but what there’s a lot of is water.” Gordon’s gaze darkened for just a moment, the brushed poised over the paper.  “Water is life.” He shrugged, quickly rotating his shoulders back into a better position on his own before Virgil could mention it. “Art worked for you, so I figured why not.”

That gave him pause, imagining that it must’ve gotten old quickly - the appeal of living in a bathyscaphe for an extended period of time, that is. How many little habits and hobbies had Gordon tried on his own? It seemed quite a lonely assignment to Virgil, but Gordon had been so excited to go. After, Gordon had raved about all he’d had the chance to research, the impact he’d been able to make on marine farming, and the possibilities for solving world hunger, though he’d also been equally excited about being back upon his return. As fulfilled as Gordon was during that time, Virgil remembered the first time Gordon had had the chance to skip through the rain after his deployment down below and what was probably the worst burn of Gordon’s life when the sun came out after.

Through his own tight embrace of his little brother’s return, perhaps he’d missed just how hard Gordon had returned the hug, blinded by the initial excited science babble.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Virgil knew the others sometimes dabbled in music, and it already broke him to know they often hid it away, embarrassed about their skill in comparison to Virgil’s. Though, they feared a lecture that would never come. It was unlike him to compare, and more than anything he wanted the world to know art was for everybody, in whatever capacity it inspired. For him, it was as important as air, and the main difference was that he’d given himself the time to develop his skills. He loved those brief moments where Scott would play Heart and Soul with him, and when John would grace them with his singing voice around the holiday season.

But it was Gordon that played his uke with all the confidence of a maestro. And he loved that for him. Gordon was always unapologetic about the things he enjoyed; it was a rare and special characteristic of his younger brother to be himself so fully and authentically. So, the idea that art was something he’d potentially hidden away, made him shrink in himself just slightly.

He suddenly cared a lot less about Gordon taking his supplies for this.

“Hadn’t come up,” Gordon quipped, not in the slightest affected by the swirl of thoughts in Virgil’s brain. “I just wanted to make some flowers in their memory, so I brushed off an old hobby.” He emphasized the statement with a flick of the paint brush, his eyes laughing at his own pun, despite the solemnity of what he’d just said.

When he caught Virgil’s expression, his smile faltered, and eyes widened. “What?”

Virgil shook his head, feeling light, and he swallowed his sadness. “I just can’t believe I had someone to talk art with all this time and didn’t know it.”

“Don’t get excited. I’m still not going to an art museum with you. It’s just flowers. The same ones I’ve done a thousand times at that.”

“They’re very good flowers.” He wondered where the other ones were, and if one day, Gordon would ever show them to him. If he even still had them…

“Really?” Pleased, Gordon squinted at the drying yellow petals, layered on a bed of green connected to stems that trailed down below the postcard.

Virgil nodded, finally finding his subject.

If he were among his paints without his brother here, he would want to channel every horrible thing about yesterday into his art, using the watercolors for the grey and dreary. He’s done it many times, and he would find himself there again. His art wasn’t always beautiful.

With Gordon sharing the load, as he’d done for them all so many times, Virgil found his creative self reaching for the same color of yellow. It felt just so Gordon to reach for the magnificence of what water could create to reconcile the parts that were awful. In the depths of the sea, that yellow - the first color to be swallowed by the ocean - must have been a beacon for his lonely soul, and with it Gordon's art created joy when light reserves were dim.

And so, he found himself inspired by his brother’s yellow.

Since the sky didn’t want them to have any sunlight, Virgil would make them some.

It was a new day, after all.

[specialinterestshows]

No clothes necessary for this smutty section of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic!

Warnings for this section: Kink (praise, BDSM, dirty talk), squirting

-

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 15 of ?): Toy With Me

“Finally,” Rhea said, pausing the show the two of you had been watching and giving you a small nudge, pointing at the pink toy plugged into the outlet. The light glowed without pause, indicating the battery was at full charge. You bit your lip, suppressing a smile.

“Go wash that, put it inside you, and turn it on,” Rhea demanded, her hypnotizing gaze complimenting her commanding tone, “I want you stripped down and sitting on the bed in five minutes.”

“Yes, Mami,” you can’t mask the excitement in your voice. Unplugging the vibrator, you practically skip into the bathroom, washing the silicone toy with soap and water once you get there. The texture was surprisingly soft, you note, running your fingers over what looked like the section that pulled together and apart to create thrust.

Remembering your time limit, you quickly take off what looked to be your second pair of ruined underwear today, judging by the wet spot. You duck into the bedroom, closing the blinds before removing your dress and grabbing the bottle of lube near your bed. Once slick, you gently press the toy against yourself. It enters you easily as you let out a soft moan. The design kept the toy inside you as you walked - hyperaware of each sensation - to grab a towel and throw it on the bed. Sitting down on the absorbent cloth, you gasp slightly as the toy is shoved a bit further inside of you, now pressed against both you and the mattress with very little give. Removing your bra, you stare eagerly at the doorway.

It isn’t long before Rhea enters, wearing nothing but fishnets and a corset, remote in hand. Your jaw drops, taking in the way every strand of fabric hugged her delicious curves. She smiles, slowly approaching you, almost seeming to grow more dominant the longer you stare - as if feeding on your adoration.

“Ready for me?” she asked, eyes making their way down your body. You shiver slightly, as if she had touched you, leaning back and spreading your legs to show off the toy.

“Mmm, good girl,” Rhea gives you a quick kiss before running her hands down your chest, teasing your nipples.

“Same rules as earlier?” you check.

“That’s right,” she whispered in your ear before giving it a small bite, smiling at the noise you make, “If you come without permission, Mami punishes you. So be a good girl.”

A soft click is the only warning you get before the toy inside you starts vibrating on the lowest setting. The sensation makes you let out a whine before another click turns on the lowest thrust setting, now accompanying the vibration. You moan, gripping the towel as small waves of pleasure make you twitch. Taking advantage of your desperate state, Rhea pushes you all the way down onto the bed and gropes you one last time before straddling your face, a hand resting on the wall to keep herself steady. One glance down at your blushing face underneath her and she can tell you want nothing more than to please.

“Tap my leg if you’re getting close or if the toy gets to be too much,” she instructs you.

“Yes, Mami,” you reply, holding onto her thighs with both hands and opening your mouth, tongue slightly out. Rhea lowers herself, letting out a low moan once your mouth makes contact.

“Mmm, I missed having your mouth on me,” she says, grinding against you, “Might just have to take you with me when I leave, keep you around as my personal slut.”

She chuckles as you moan against her, reveling in how much control her words had over you. At the quickening pace of your tongue, Rhea presses another button, making the vibration of your toy louder and more intense.

“Oh fuck yes,” she said, responding to your increasingly desperate moans as you twitch, the waves of pleasure becoming increasingly difficult to resist. You tap Rhea’s thigh urgently and she turns the toy off completely, easing up on your mouth.

“All good?” she asks.

“Mmhm,” you respond, aching around the toy for the orgasm you’d almost reached, “I was just getting really close.”

“Good girl” - you smile at her praise - “Now don’t ask to come until after I do.”

She waits for your “yes, Mami” before lowering herself again and turning both thrust and vibrate back on. You put all the effort and focus you can into the way you move your mouth despite your own moaning and twitching. It isn’t long before both of you are getting close to coming. Gripping her thighs, you do your best to not to give into the pleasure, your body screaming for release.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” Rhea's fingers gripped your hair as she encourages you, too lost in her own bliss to notice how close you were. A loud moan rang out as she threw back her head, squirting into your mouth. Both sexy and unexpected, suddenly being covered in her cum was what brought you over the edge. In your surprise, you’d lost focus and let yourself come undone. Your moan began muffled, still pressed against Rhea, but rang out into the open air as she moved away. Even in the haze of a strong orgasm, you felt a thrill. All motion coming from the toy stopped. You were definitely in trouble.

“And you were being such a good girl,” Rhea tuts, shaking her head, “I was going to let you come right after me, but you didn’t even ask. And now Mami has to punish you.”

Fuck.

[end part fifteen of ?]

Part 16: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/724763907433152512/absolute-smokeshow-part-16-of-you-shouldnt

-

Tag List (thank you!)

@cherryberryshine , @littlemiss-fanficlover , @elisewithak

[jenroses]

Okay, so the con I just went to was dang near perfectly accessible to my wheelchair, but right now sitting hurts my legs due to a spinal issue, and even lying down in the wheelchair (it reclines) was agony by the end of the weekend. Also I had to drive 2 hours to get to it, so we're desperately looking for Not Drive options. I literally had a memory foam mattress pad on my bed and wheelchair, an accessible room, was able to get into all the venue places I wanted to go, had a microwave and cooler in the room, this is not an accessibility problem this is a "I am 52 years old with multiple serious complex syndromes that cause chronic pain and fatigue and my spine is Not Cooperating with me being in the world right now, no matter how far the world goes to make it work for me" because ME/CFS/RA/EDS/POTS/MCAS/spinal degeneration and nerve outlet bone spurs/PEM are just not very compatible with, oh, leaving the house or being upright in any reasonable form. I'm only able to be on the computer because it is in a blackout-curtained little cubby mounted over an adjustable bed covered in pillows so my body position is absolutely supported when I type, and even so my time there is limited, too.

Anyway, cons were one of those things I could still do up until a few years ago, and now I'm coming to terms with maybe they're not something my body can handle, spirit willing, flesh weak, yadda yadda.

My response to this was done literally like the day after I got back from a con, after the two hour drive.

I was literally on the panels about surviving cons with disabilities and promoting accessibility, this is a convention which works so hard to stay accessible that it was zoom-only for a year or two longer than most cons were. Ironically, I am both immune compromised and have a hard time focusing in zoom panels.

If you're an adult...

You are allowed to read comic books. You are allowed to write fanfiction. You are allowed to play video games. You are allowed to collect stuffed animals, dolls, Funko Pops and whatever else. You are allowed to go to cons. You are allowed to cosplay. You are allowed to have a comfort show, even if it's not popular, or hasn't been "on the air" for decades. You are allowed to have anime crushes. You are allowed to have fun. You are allowed to pursue hobbies, even if you can't monetize them or turn them into a career or a "side hustle." You are allowed to take time out for yourself; that's not the same as totally neglecting all your responsibilities to their detriment. You are allowed to write your own life script, instead of following the one your parents and culture mapped out for you at birth. You are allowed to decide you don't want to have children, or don't want to get married. (Or that you'd like to do those things someday, but not today.) You are allowed to go at your own pace, on your own path. You're allowed to have a life that's not all bills and back pain, fatigue and drudgery. You are allowed to play, as well as work.

[furniture1-2]

FURNITURE

The Ultimate Guide to Finding the Best Furniture Stores Near You

When it comes to decorating your home, finding the right furniture can make all the difference. Whether you're on the hunt for stylish bedroom furniture, comfortable living room pieces, or a durable bed frame, the options can seem overwhelming. However, knowing where to shop and what to look for can simplify the process. This guide will help you navigate through the best furniture stores near you, from budget-friendly outlets to high-end showrooms, ensuring that you find exactly what you need for every room in your home.

Why Shopping at Local Furniture Stores is Beneficial

Shopping at furniture stores near you has several advantages. Firstly, you can physically inspect the furniture, ensuring the quality meets your expectations. Secondly, local stores often offer personalized customer service, helping you make the right choices for your space. Finally, purchasing from nearby stores can reduce delivery times and costs, allowing you to enjoy your new furniture sooner.

Finding the Best Furniture Stores Near Me

When searching for the best furniture stores near you, consider these factors:

Variety of Products: A good furniture store should offer a wide range of products. This includes everything from bedroom furniture like beds, dressers, and nightstands to living room furniture such as sofas, coffee tables, and entertainment centers.

Quality and Durability: Invest in furniture that is built to last. Check the materials used, the craftsmanship, and any warranties offered by the store.

Pricing and Discounts: Look for stores that offer competitive pricing. Many furniture stores have regular sales, and it's worth waiting for these events to get the best deals.

Customer Reviews: Before making a purchase, read customer reviews online. This can provide insight into the store's customer service, product quality, and delivery process.

Bedroom Furniture: Creating Your Sanctuary

The bedroom is your personal retreat, so it's essential to choose furniture that promotes relaxation and comfort.

Beds for Sale: Whether you're looking for a queen bed, a king-sized bed, or a cozy double bed, finding the right bed is crucial. Consider the size of your room and your comfort needs. Many furniture stores near you will offer beds for sale in various styles, from modern to traditional.

Mattress Sales: A good mattress is just as important as the bed frame. Look for stores that have ongoing mattress sales, as this can be a great opportunity to upgrade your sleep experience without breaking the bank.

Bed Frame Sale: Bed frames come in different materials, including wood, metal, and upholstered options. During a bed frame sale, you can often find high-quality frames at discounted prices.

Bedroom Furniture Stores: Specialized bedroom furniture stores focus on creating cohesive and stylish bedroom sets. These stores offer everything from beds to dressers and nightstands, making it easy to furnish your entire room.

Living Room Furniture: The Heart of Your Home

Your living room is where you entertain guests, relax after a long day, and spend quality time with family. The furniture you choose should reflect your lifestyle and personal taste.

Sofa Shops: Sofas are the centerpiece of any living room. When browsing sofa shops, consider the size of your space, the number of seats you need, and the type of fabric that best suits your lifestyle. Leather sofas, for example, are durable and easy to clean, while fabric sofas offer a wider range of colors and patterns.

Sofa Bed Sale: If you often have guests staying over, a sofa bed can be a practical addition to your living room. During a sofa bed sale, you can find stylish and comfortable options that double as a guest bed.

Living Room Furniture: In addition to sofas, consider other essential living room furniture pieces like coffee tables, TV stands, and bookshelves. Look for a cohesive style that ties the room together.

Leather Sofas for Sale: Leather sofas add a touch of luxury to your living room. They are durable, stylish, and available in various colors. Many stores offer leather sofas for sale, especially during seasonal promotions.

Furniture Sales and Outlets: Where to Find the Best Deals

Everyone loves a good deal, and furniture sales are the perfect opportunity to upgrade your home without spending a fortune.

Furniture Sale: Keep an eye out for furniture sales throughout the year. Many stores have clearance events, seasonal sales, or holiday promotions where you can score significant discounts on high-quality furniture.

Furniture Outlet: Furniture outlets are another excellent option for finding deals. These stores often sell overstocked items, discontinued lines, or slightly imperfect pieces at reduced prices. A furniture outlet near you can be a treasure trove of bargains.

Discount Furniture Stores Near Me: Discount furniture stores cater to budget-conscious shoppers. While the prices are lower, you can still find stylish and durable pieces. It's a good idea to visit several discount furniture stores near you to compare prices and selection.

Beds and Sofas: Finding the Perfect Match

When it comes to choosing beds and sofas, there are a few key considerations to keep in mind.

Buy Bed: When buying a bed, think about your specific needs. Do you need extra storage? Consider a bed with built-in drawers. Prefer a minimalist look? A platform bed might be your best bet. The key is to find a bed that fits your style, space, and comfort requirements.

Queen Beds for Sale: Queen beds are a popular choice because they offer ample space without taking up too much room. Look for queen beds for sale in stores near you, especially during major sales events.

Cheap Beds for Sale: If you're on a budget, cheap beds for sale can be a great option. However, make sure that you're not compromising on quality. Even budget-friendly beds should be sturdy and comfortable.

Cheap Sofas for Sale: Like beds, sofas can vary widely in price. Cheap sofas for sale can be a smart purchase if you know where to look. Visit multiple stores to compare prices, and don't forget to check the clearance section.

Furniture Stores Near Me: Convenience and Selection

Finding furniture stores near you that offer a wide selection is crucial for making the shopping process easier.

Furniture Shop Near Me: Local furniture shops often have unique pieces that you won't find in larger chains. These shops are also more likely to offer personalized service and advice.

Sofa Shops Near Me: When looking for sofas, it's worth visiting several sofa shops near you. Each store will have different styles, fabrics, and price points, so take your time to find the perfect one.

Bed Shops Near Me: Bed shops near you will have a range of beds, from traditional to contemporary styles. Visiting these shops in person allows you to test the beds for comfort and quality.

Second Hand Furniture: A Sustainable Choice

Second-hand furniture is an excellent option for those looking to save money or find unique pieces with character.

Second Hand Furniture Near Me: Many second-hand furniture stores near you offer a wide variety of items, from vintage finds to modern pieces. Shopping second-hand is also an environmentally friendly choice, as it reduces waste and the demand for new resources.

Cheap Furniture Stores Near Me: Cheap furniture stores often have a mix of new and second-hand items. These stores are perfect for budget-conscious shoppers looking to furnish their homes without spending a fortune.

Specialty Furniture: Beds for Babies and More

Don't forget about specialty furniture, like baby beds, when furnishing your home.

Baby Beds: If you're expecting a little one, finding the right baby bed is essential. Look for stores that specialize in nursery furniture, offering a range of cribs, changing tables, and other essentials.

Room Furniture: Room furniture isn't just about the big pieces like beds and sofas. Consider smaller items like nightstands, lamps, and rugs that complete the look of a room. Many furniture stores near you will have a range of accessories to choose from.

[martinarecolvice]

Salvation Army Near Me

Finding a Salvation Army location nearby is easier than you might think. The organization has numerous centers across the United States and beyond, making it readily accessible for those looking to donate or seek assistance. Simply use your favorite search engine and type "Salvation Army near me" to get instant results.

>>>>>>>>>>Salvation Army Near Me<<<<<<<<<<<<

Many people also rely on mapping apps for quick directions. These tools can provide not just locations but also hours of operation, so you know when they are open. This is especially helpful if you're planning a visit after work or on weekends.

The Salvation Army's website offers a handy store locator feature as well. Enter your zip code or city name, and it will display all nearby outlets along with their services. Each location generally hosts thrift stores where donated items are sold at affordable prices.

If you need specific services like food pantries, clothing distribution, or housing assistance, it's essential to check what each site provides. Some locations may focus more on one area than another, depending on community needs.

Additionally, many Salvation Army branches have social media pages that provide updates about events and programs in your local area. Engaging with these platforms can keep you informed about upcoming initiatives and ways to support your community further.

Types of donations does the Salvation Army accept

The Salvation Army is known for its dedication to helping those in need, and one of the ways it does this is by accepting donations from individuals, businesses, and organizations. Here are some of the types of donations that the Salvation Army typically accepts:

1. Monetary donations: These are cash or check donations that can be made online, in person at a Salvation Army location, or through mail.

2. Clothing: The Salvation Army accepts gently used clothing for men, women, and children. This includes items such as shirts, pants, jackets, shoes, and accessories.

3. Furniture: The organization also accepts furniture donations such as sofas, chairs, tables, dressers, and mattresses. These items must be in good condition without any major tears or stains.

4. Household items: The Salvation Army also accepts household items such as dishes, silverware, small appliances (in working condition), bedding and linens.

5. Electronics: Donations of electronics like TVs, computers/laptops (less than 5 years old), printers/scanners/copiers (less than 3 years old), and other small electronics are accepted.

6. Vehicles: The Salvation Army has a vehicle donation program where you can donate your car, truck or other vehicle to help fund their programs.

7. Food: Non-perishable food items are accepted and distributed to those in need through the Salvation Army's food pantry.

8. Toys: During the holiday season, the Salvation Army accepts donations of new, unwrapped toys for their annual toy drive.

9. Books: The organization accepts donations of books, both fiction and non-fiction, for their thrift stores or for their literacy programs.

10. Jewelry: The Salvation Army accepts donations of jewelry that can be sold in their thrift stores to help fund their programs.

It is always best to check with your local Salvation Army location to see what specific items they are currently accepting as donation needs may vary by location.  

Why Donate to the Salvation Army?

Donating to the Salvation Army is a powerful way to impact your community. The organization has been serving those in need since 1865, providing essential services and support for individuals facing hardship. Your contributions help fund programs that assist with food, shelter, and rehabilitation.

Another reason to donate is the commitment of the Salvation Army to transparency and accountability. They ensure that donations directly benefit those who require assistance rather than being absorbed into administrative costs. This trust builds confidence among donors.

Furthermore, donating items you no longer use helps reduce waste while supporting a cause you care about. It’s an environmentally friendly choice that aligns with sustainable living practices. By choosing to give, you're not only decluttering your space but also making room for positive change in others' lives.

Who Benefits From Your Donation?

When you donate to the Salvation Army, your contributions positively impact various individuals and families in need. The organization provides vital support to those facing homelessness, hunger, or financial hardship. Your items help create a safety net for vulnerable populations.

Additionally, proceeds from donated goods fund essential programs such as job training and rehabilitation services. These initiatives empower people to regain independence and self-sufficiency. By donating, you're not just giving away unwanted items; you are fostering hope for a brighter future.

Moreover, the Salvation Army serves communities through emergency assistance programs that address immediate needs like food distribution and disaster relief. Your donation plays a crucial role in sustaining these life-changing efforts while promoting community resilience during challenging times.

How to schedule your Salvation Army Donation pick-up

Scheduling a Salvation Army pick-up is a simple process that can be completed in a few easy steps.

1. Visit the Salvation Army website: Start by visiting the Salvation Army website, www.salvationarmy.org. You will see a “Schedule a Pickup” button on the homepage.

2. Enter your zip code: On the pickup scheduling page, enter your zip code into the designated box and click “Go.” This will direct you to the local Salvation Army donation center in your area.

3. Select items to donate: Once you have selected your location, you will be prompted to select which items you would like to donate. You can choose from categories such as clothing, furniture, household goods, and more.

4. Choose a date and time: After selecting your items, you will be directed to a calendar where you can choose a date and time for your pick-up. Note that not all locations offer pick-up services every day of the week, so be sure to check availability before choosing a date.

5. Provide contact information: Fill out the required fields with your name, address, phone number, and email address so that the Salvation Army can confirm your appointment and send you a receipt for tax purposes.

6. Confirm your pick-up: After reviewing all the information provided, click “Submit” to confirm your pick-up appointment. You will receive a confirmation email with the details of your scheduled pick-up.

7. Prepare your donation items: Before the scheduled pick-up date, make sure to have all your donation items gathered and ready for the Salvation Army driver. It is recommended to label each item with a “SA” sticker or mark it with a visible sign so that the driver knows which items are designated for donation.

8. Be present during pick-up: On the day of your scheduled pick-up, make sure to be present at the designated time so that you can hand over your donations to the Salvation Army driver. If you are unable to be there, make arrangements for someone else to be present on your behalf.

Following these steps will ensure a smooth and hassle-free process for scheduling your Salvation Army donation pick-up. Your donations will help support those in need and make a positive impact in your community.

Dropping off your donation instead?

If you prefer to drop off your donation instead of scheduling a pick-up, the Salvation Army makes it easy. They have numerous donation centers located throughout cities and towns. This option allows you to deliver items at your convenience.

Before heading out, check the Salvation Army's website for nearby drop-off locations. Different centers may accept various types of donations or have specific hours for drop-offs. Being informed helps ensure that your contributions are accepted without any hassle.

When you arrive at the center, follow the posted instructions for dropping off items. Staff members are often on-site to assist with unloading and provide guidance on what can be donated. Your generosity is appreciated and directly benefits those in need within your community.

Salvation Army Donation Process

The Salvation Army donation process  varies depending on the type of donation you would like to make. Here is a general overview of the steps involved in donating to The Salvation Army:

1. Decide what type of donation you would like to make: The Salvation Army accepts donations in various forms, including cash, clothing, household items, vehicles, and more. You can choose to donate one or multiple items.

2. Find a donation location: The Salvation Army has various donation drop-off locations throughout the country. You can use their online locator tool to find a location near you.

3. Prepare your items for donation: If you are donating clothing or household items, make sure they are clean and in good condition. If you are donating furniture or appliances, they should be in working condition.

4. Make your donation: Bring your items to the designated drop-off location during their operating hours and hand them over to the staff or volunteers.

5. Get a receipt: After making your donation, ask for a receipt from the staff or volunteers. This will serve as proof of your donation for tax purposes.

6. Consider scheduling a pickup: If you have large items such as furniture that cannot be dropped off at a location, you can schedule a pickup with The Salvation Army. They will come to your home to pick up the items at a scheduled time.

7. Cash donations: If you would like to make a cash donation, you can do so online through The Salvation Army's website or by mailing a check to their headquarters.

8. Vehicle donations: To donate a vehicle, you will need to fill out an online form on The Salvation Army's website and schedule a pickup. They accept cars, trucks, boats, RVs, and more.

9. Tax deduction: Make sure to keep your receipt or any other documentation for your donation as it may be tax-deductible. Consult with a tax professional for more information.

10. Thank you letter: After making your donation, The Salvation Army may send you a thank-you letter or email expressing their gratitude for your generosity.

Note that the specific process may vary slightly depending on the location and type of donation. It is always best to check with your local Salvation Army branch for their specific procedures. 

Can You Get a Tax Deduction When Donating to the Salvation Army?

When you donate to the Salvation Army, you may be eligible for a tax deduction. The organization is recognized as a 501(c)(3) nonprofit, meaning your contributions are tax-deductible under IRS guidelines. However, there are specific rules and limitations that apply.

To claim this deduction, ensure that you keep detailed records of your donations. This includes receipts from the Salvation Army and notes on the value of items given. For non-cash donations like clothing or furniture, it's important to assess their fair market value accurately.

Be aware of any thresholds set by the IRS regarding charitable contributions. If your total donation exceeds $500 in a year, additional forms will need to be submitted with your tax return. Consulting with a tax professional can help clarify any uncertainties about maximizing your deductions.

Conclusion

Donating to the Salvation Army through their pick-up service is a simple yet impactful way to declutter your space while supporting those in need. Whether you choose to schedule a pickup or drop off your items, every contribution makes a difference. Your donations help fund various programs that assist individuals and families facing hardships.

Understanding the donation process can make it easier for you to participate. Additionally, remember that you may be eligible for tax deductions when donating, which adds an extra layer of benefit to your generosity.

By choosing the Salvation Army for your charitable giving, you're not just cleaning out unwanted items; you're actively participating in community support and upliftment. Take action today with their convenient pick-up services or donation centers, and know that your contributions are making a positive impact on countless lives.

FAQs

What types of donations does the Salvation Army accept?

The Salvation Army accepts a wide range of donations, including clothing, furniture, household items, electronics, and vehicles. They also accept monetary donations to support their various programs and services.

How can I find the nearest Salvation Army location?

You can find the nearest Salvation Army location by using the store locator on their official website or by searching "Salvation Army near me" on a map application. You can also call their hotline for assistance in finding a nearby center.

What services does the Salvation Army provide at local centers?

The Salvation Army offers various services at their local centers, including emergency shelter, food assistance, rehabilitation programs, job training, and disaster relief. The specific services may vary by location.

What are the hours of operation for the Salvation Army in my area?

Hours of operation for Salvation Army locations can vary. It's best to check the specific hours of your local center by visiting their website, calling ahead, or using an online map service to view their business hours.

How can I schedule a donation pick-up with the Salvation Army?

To schedule a donation pick-up, you can visit the Salvation Army's website and use their online scheduling tool. Alternatively, you can call their donation hotline to arrange a convenient time for your items to be collected.

[the-duckless-pond]

Patiently waiting for my grocery order so that I can tuck in and stay in bed for the rest of the day. Today has been super rough and it hasn’t improved.

It started off just fine and normal, but it feels like my meds never truly kicked in or something. I don’t know. Maybe it was the noise. My apartment building felt loud today. One of my neighbors had like 7 kids over earlier and they only left a few hours ago.

The list of things I need to do today is growing. I still need to clean the litter boxes. Easier now that I have a big trash can to put the waste bags in. I have to put ash my groceries and wash my vegetables. I can do that when they arrive. I need to vacuum before the movers bring my furniture tomorrow. Increasingly unlikely to happen as I have been attempting to summon the will to do that since 8am and it is now almost 5pm. But we shall see. Maybe it’ll happen. Maybe I’ll force myself to do it tomorrow.

I can at least move the cat tunnel so that it is out of the way of the movers for tomorrow. I can do that much. And I can turn on the AC and close the windows and put my hoodie back on since that makes me feel safe. I can turn on the white noise machine my mom got me after I found out there were kids here and that should help some. I can lay down when my groceries arrive and tuck in and post my chapter and watch a show and feel safe under my weighted blanket.

Also there is someone living in this building that mistakenly buzzes my buzzer at least once a day. My buzzer does not always work, so that’s a blessing. But I hate it and it makes me super anxious. I would go down there and ask them to stop buzzing my number but I am terrified of doing that and refuse to be perceived by any of my neighbors and wish for total anonymity so. Yeah. That’s a problem that I just have to live with. Maybe they are pressing it on purpose and whoever used to live here would let them in? Maybe it’s an accident and they mean to buzz one of the numbers close to mine? I don’t know. I wish it would stop, though. It’s pretty anxiety provoking. Jarring. Especially when you are not expecting it and you have PTSD. Not pleasant.

I haven’t heard from my best friend in about a week now. I am still texting her updates on my life because that is what I do, but I hope everything is okay. I miss her when she goes quiet like this. Today I can’t remember what I texted her about, but I’m sure I will send at least one more before the day is done. So far they have all been basically updates on the move and how I am feeling since she knows I’ve been struggling.

Update: I have moved positions and now I am camped out in front of the big living room windows. I have to plug my phone in soon so it won’t last long, and I kind of want a fun drink of some sort so I will have to move back near somewhere with an outlet where I can set my drink. Which is a bummer, because I am tired of sitting where I was against the wall and also kind of sore. Maybe I’ll move to the bed. Use the extension cord and plug my phone in and watch my grocery delivery updates like that.

Oh! I did finally make a therapy appointment, though. I haven’t been in like a month. It’s for early next week, at which point I will have internet and my furniture and the rest of my things. And hopefully I will have ordered a real bed by then. I’m starting to get sore from the air mattress. Reminded of the time I was assaulted and, by myself, hauled the entire bed and frame to the dumpster and slept on the floor until I could afford an air mattress. I suppose this is better than that. However that was quite liberating on some level, I do have to admit.

I would feel bad about this getting kind of long but I don’t think anyone reads these or cares, and it’s my diary entry so I’m allowed to make it as long as I want. Tumblr will cut it off below a read more at a certain point anyway.

Trying to decide what kind of fun drink I want. Maybe a smoothie? Or another decaf? I guess I could order dinner and get whatever fun drink the restaurant gives me. Between my agoraphobia and my needing to stock a larger pantry and fridge since now I can cook again after having to do microwave meals for so many years since I didn’t have a real kitchen, I’ve done enough grocery orders this past week that I have a bunch of credits for restaurant orders. Seriously, like $40 credits or something. I don’t know how they work, but that might cheer me up. I’d have to look at my budget to see if I can afford it.

I guess I’ll stop this here. My grocery order is on the way. Once that gets here I’ll figure out dinner and then work on posting my chapter.

[godrej-pestctrl]

Bed Bug Pest Control Near Me: Godrej Pest Control for Effective Solutions

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Signs of a Bed Bug Infestation

Identifying a bed bug infestation early is crucial for effective pest control. Here are some common signs to watch out for:

Bite Marks: Bed bug bites typically appear as red, itchy welts on the skin. They often occur in a line or cluster.

Blood Stains: You may notice small blood stains on your sheets or pillowcases from crushed bed bugs.

Fecal Spots: Bed bugs leave behind dark, rusty-coloured spots on bedding and furniture.

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The Bed Bug Control Process

At Godrej Pest Control, we follow a complete process to ensure effective bed bug elimination:

Inspection: Our technicians conduct a thorough inspection to identify the extent of the infestation and locate hiding spots.

Treatment Plan: Based on the inspection, we develop a customized treatment plan using a combination of chemical and non-chemical methods.

Execution: Our team applies targeted treatments to eliminate bed bugs at all life stages, ensuring complete eradication.

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Preventing Future Infestations

Preventing bed bug infestations is just as important as treating them. Here are some tips to keep your home bed bug-free:

Regular Inspections: Conduct regular inspections of your home, especially in areas where bed bugs are likely to hide.

Cleanliness: Maintain a clean and clutter-free environment to reduce hiding spots for bed bugs.

Protective Covers: Use mattress and box spring encasements to prevent bed bugs from nesting.

Travel Precautions: When travelling, inspect hotel rooms for signs of bed bugs and keep your luggage elevated.

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