#had to deal with some ants

[pinksdoodles1]

some more doodles of my homebrew dnd goddess vega, 'cuz even though my brain is fried i promised myself and more importantly my homies that i'd post my art - regardless of what i thought of its quality. and also because i won't get better at drawing if i don't draw.

anyways, i'm allergic to posting drawings without at least some short text accompanying them, so here's a bunch of other scattered ideas i have had for vega that may or may not become canon for the campaign. there's a tradition in celebrations that include her to "dedicate" the first glass of wine to her - by pouring it into the ground.

she's in good standing with sun chariot (temp name), the.... well, sun god (he's the guy that looks like a bull-shaped suit of golden armor with a mane of fire) - and this has reflected on their followers, with interfaith marriages not being unheard of. and them just having generally good relations.

there was also something about ribbons being a possible gift of affection/confession but uhhh uhh, i haven't thought that far yet. tune in tomorrow for more stuff?

[piplupod]

also fungus gnats or no-see-ums have come indoors while i had the (screened) windows open down here to try to get in a little fresh air, and now I keep getting tiny bugs in my face every so often no matter what room I'm in and idk which they are bc they look so similar so idk how to get rid of them other than just keep trying to kill any that I spot in here and never open the windows again 😭

[marsbotz]

crazy awesome scary dream last night abt being stuck in sone sort of infinite labyrinth

[disillusionedjudge]

((how to kill my focus in record time: a n t s

[lohstandfound]

i so desperately want one of these 'publish me daddy' hoodies from Taco Bell Quarterly but i have discovered they also have 'publish me mommy' hoodies. choices, dilemmas, and an empty bank account

[inkskinned]

you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

[boltwrites]

Reader/Logan where reader is trying so hard to seduce Logan but mans a brick wall and when Reader just about gives up Logan confront them and reciprocates their feelings (smut?[optional])

A/N: no smut here, just because i'm working on a lot more smut for other fics. this is just kind of cute and definitely more than a little silly. Also, just general headcanons, and very gender neutral.

You've never tried so hard to seduce a man in your whole life, honestly. As soon as you met that man and Wade said he was going to be sticking around, you started thinking up a game plan.

Step one was obvious: dressing up for him. You started out casual enough - if you ever had to go see Wade about something, you made sure you looked nice. Hair styled, with clothes that made you feel confident and attractive. Maybe makeup, if that's your thing.

It didn't seem to illicit much reaction from Logan, though. He was usually involved in something else - didn't really pay you any mind. Hardly spoke to you, in fact, even when you batted your lashes at him and told you that you brought him some liquor as a "welcome to the apartment" gift. He'd just nodded at you, took it, and told you a very generic "hey - thanks." Like - he could have said that to his worst fucking enemy. Or some random fuck on the street. It gave you nothing.

So, obviously, you had to up the ante. Now you weren't just dressing nice, you were dressing slutty. Maybe for you, that was wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up over your forearms and some tight ass pants, or one too many buttons undone on that dress shirt. Maybe it was crop tops and booty shorts. Hell - maybe it was push-up bras and thigh highs. Whatever it was, you made sure to wear it the next time you sauntered on over to Wade's place.

And motherfucking Wade noticed. Made some asinine comment that you were trying to steal him away from Vanessa. You slapped him in the face as you played it off as whatever excuse you had this week, waltzing your way into the apartment so you could talk to Wade and see if Logan would look your way. Because that would be the key - if you could get him to look at you, you were sure you would know. There was always a sort of vibe in the air when two people who wanted to fuck looked at each other. You'd be able to tell.

Except - god fucking dammit - he was like a brick wall. You'd greeted Logan, waited for his eyes to dance over your outfit - and you got nothing. Maybe - maybe - his jaw clenched? but you couldn't tell. Fuck.

OK. Phase two: you'd have to get a little more assertive. You started inviting Wade and Logan out. You really didn't want to have to move on to phase two, because it meant you had to deal with Wade outside of his own apartment, which also meant you ran the risk of getting banned from fine, upstanding establishments. But fuck it, you'd risk it for Logan.

You took them out to a bar, along with Vanessa and Peter. You'd made sure to take the stool next to Logan. You did the usual - laughed at his jokes, asked him a couple questions when the conversation lulled. You leaned in when he spoke, and at one point you even worked up the courage to touch his arm.

And things had been going... well, alright, until you decided to do that. You'd been enjoying yourself - you'd even been kind of enamored with Logan for some of his answers. He'd replied to you like he would anyone else - except maybe Wade, since he wasn't rude and he didn't stab you - but there wasn't any animosity there. But when you touched him - he noticed. His eyes shot straight to your hand on his arm and his fingers had balled into a fist. You'd had to retract your arm and make a hasty apology and an even hastier excuse before he could chide you about it. You'd been so fucking embarrassed.

Whatever, OK. Setback. Not the end of the world. You take them to the club. Negasonic and Yukio even come. You're pretty sure Logan will be posted up at the bar all night, but that's fine! You still get to wear an extra hot outfit and, if plied with alcohol or other substances of your choice, you could certainly work up the courage to ask him to dance. It was a foolproof plan, nothing could possible go wrong -

Logan got himself kicked out before you could even begin to put it into motion. You had literally been sipping one of your first drinks of the night (either alcoholic or not, you needed to stay hydrated on the dance floor) and Logan had decided that, at no later that 11 at night, he needed to start a bar fight. It was hot, you weren't going to lie - he picked the dude up by the scruff of the neck and slammed him into the bar like he weighed nothing, fucking growled about it. God, you wanted to fuck him. But it still cut all your plans short.

You tried so much shit after that. Staging a movie night so you could sneak in a cuddle? Wade insisted on sitting between the two of you. Tried to ask Logan if he wanted food or to go out for a drink alone? Wade cut in and insisted on joining. Trying a thinly veiled sex joke or innuendo was out of the fucking question - Wade could smell those for miles away and would call you out on your old man crush immediately. It had to be godly intervention that he hadn't said anything so far.

Eventually? You were exhausted. You'd tried everything - and while Wade had thwarted some of your plans, most of them had just fallen flat. Logan just didn't respond to them. He didn't seem interested in seeing you in sexy clothes, didn't really seek you out in conversation. He hadn't insisted Wade stay home when you specifically asked Logan out and Wade interjected. And - it all came down to how he looked at you when you touched his arm. Maybe - maybe he didn't like you. Maybe you were too young for him. Maybe he didn't like anybody.

So, you stopped trying. It had taken a lot of energy to put in that effort, and you weren't interested in keeping that up for a man who didn't reciprocate. You'd still hang out with Wade and Logan, of course - but you weren't going to be arranging things specifically to try and seduce Logan, now.

That was, until two weeks after your decision to no longer pursue him, there was a knock on your door. And when you opened it - it was Logan. With - was that like, three garbage bags?

"Told Wade I was taking the trash out." Logan explained, nodding towards them. "Didn't want him following." Because Wade did kind of follow Logan around like a forlorn puppy - except when chores and/or manual labor were involved. But - ok, yeah, the trash bags were weird, but why had Logan specifically sidestepped Wade to come see you?

"Do you need something?" you asked. Maybe Logan was upset that you hadn't brought any booze over for a while. Maybe he needed cash. Your heart dropped thinking about it. But his eyebrow quirked up just a bit.

"You," he replied, plain as day. "You haven't been around lately." You blinked at him? Did he- "did you miss me?"

"I-" he caught himself, closed his eyes and bit his lip as he quelled something? "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

You were shocked, honestly. You were sure your mouth was hanging open. "But - you-"

"If Wade saw, you know that little shit would never let us hear the end of it," Logan posited, and your eyes widened. "So- so that was why you were acting like you didn't give a shit about me?"

He nodded, offering up a wry smile. "Mhm." Oh, for fuck's sake. "So - you do want to fuck me?" "Oh yes." His smile widened, with a low chuckle added to his reply. Oh, fuck.

You reached over the threshold of your door, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and fucking yanked.

"Then get the fuck in here, you - fucking - you tease!"

Later, with Logan curled up in your bed and nothing on except your underwear, someone pounded on your door, harsh and startling. It was accompanied by the pissed off voice of none other than Blind Al: "I almost tripped over your goddamn garbage and broke a fucking hip, 203! You owe me for that!"

[mcrdvcks]

had this idea about a possessive!reader and logan because i feel it's not done nearly enough

warnings/tags: mentions of lipstick and hickeys, gn!reader

---

It started out simply. You realized you couldn’t give Logan a hickey like he could you. You would sit in his lap, sucking various spots on his neck, only for the bruise to fade within seconds.

So, you came up with another way to show others that he was yours, kissing his neck with your lipstick on in the mornings. The first time you did it, he didn’t even know. The flannel he wore didn’t cover up the pink lip mark on the side of his neck, and it was only until Scott hid back a chuckle that he went to check himself in the mirror.

But he didn’t stop you. In fact, sometimes you left more than one colored kiss, on both sides of his neck, the front of his throat, on his chest above his beater where his fuzzy hair peaked out.

Then you upped the ante. You gave him a string bracelet with your initials on it. He kept it on his wrist, and whenever another woman—or man—gave him a second look when you were out, you didn’t even have to say anything. You’d casually grab his arm, tug his sleeve up, and flash them the bracelet. Logan would just smirk, not saying a word, but the message was clear: he was yours.

At first, Logan thought it was funny. You, marking your territory in these subtle ways. He'd smirk every time you'd tug his arm up, making a point to show the bracelet to anyone who dared give him a second glance.

But then, he started to enjoy it more than he’d care to admit. The little things—your lipstick marks on his skin, the bracelet on his wrist—felt grounding. They were soft, easy reminders of the fact that he was yours, and you were his.

It wasn’t just about possession, though. It was about the warmth it gave him, the way you claimed him without making a big deal about it. It became part of the routine. He’d wake up, stretch, and by the time he was pulling on his shirt, you were already in front of him, lips painted a fresh shade of red or pink. He’d tilt his head, giving you full access to leave your mark on his neck, and sometimes, if you were feeling playful, you’d press one right over his heart.

“Damn, you really wanna broadcast it today, huh?” he’d joke, but the truth was, he loved it.

You’d grin and shrug, saying something like, “Just making sure they know.”

He didn’t mind. Hell, he found himself looking forward to those moments. It wasn’t just the way you made it clear to everyone else, but the way it felt. Having you leave those small touches on him, like some secret code only the two of you understood.

Logan wasn’t a man of words. He’d always been more action than talk, but with you, it was easy to show affection in a way that didn’t feel foreign to him. The way you’d hold onto his arm, showing off the bracelet like it was the most natural thing in the world, sent a surge of warmth through him. You didn’t need to shout your claim from the rooftops, but it was there, clear as day.

And honestly? He liked that. Liked knowing that he was the one you were holding onto, that he was yours.

One night, after you’d left another set of lipstick marks on him before a mission, Logan caught himself staring in the mirror a little longer than usual. There they were, bright and bold, like a damn signature. He couldn’t help but smirk.

You wandered into the room, already pulling on your jacket. “Ready?”

He turned to face you, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I think you missed a spot.”

Your eyes narrowed playfully. “Oh yeah? Where?”

He stepped closer, tapping a finger against his throat. “Right here. Could use another one for good luck.”

You laughed, shaking your head, but you didn’t hesitate. Stepping up, you pressed your lips to his skin again, leaving a fresh print. He hummed, low and satisfied, before pulling you into a kiss that was a little too heated for a mission.

“Guess I’ll have to mark you next,” he muttered against your lips, voice rough, a hint of promise in his tone.

“Maybe,” you teased, pulling away, “but for now, this’ll do.”

As the two of you walked out the door, his hand on the small of your back, Logan couldn’t help but feel content. He wasn’t a man who needed much, but with you, these little moments were everything.

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with his Preggo Wife #9: At the Beach

Can be read with others in series or alone

Summary: You're not too confident at the beach with your body, but Joel's got the best remedy

Warnings: Super fluff!! Some sexy time at the end, unprotected sex, car sex, failed sex, fingering, 1 spank, heavier descriptions of pregnant body 

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You complain how hot it is, the grainy sand stuck on on your thighs, the hot sun blistering your sensitive skin, the onlookers you fear are gawking at your enormous size. The fact you have to wear a bikini now despite always having worn a full piece before the baby train docked. But it just wouldn't fit, and you had to buy a NEW (and even larger sized) two piece to accommodate your must larger figure.

 All of it makes you want to barf and hide in a closet. At the very least wrapped up in a towel—but of course, one towel doesn't even cover over your mid section anymore either!

Not that he's complaining. Joel pulls his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose to let all the light in and, with no shame, gets a glorious look at you as often as he can. You wearing a two piece with your accentuated body now so drastically changed because of him, just absolutely showcasing the evidence of your love making has him struggling to keep his cock down in his trousers. He wants to put his hands all over you and tell everyone yeah, this body? this belly? This woman? You see her? Mine. 

You didn't want to come to the beach. Okay, you did, like, yesterday, when you were scratching his arm off and begging to go sun bathe and wear your new sandals, but clearly, Joel couldn't recognize when you changed your mind last minute in the car ride without actually verbally telling him. He was so busy humming his little 70s tunes on the radio, glancing smiles at you and putting his warm hand on your fat thigh. Completely unaware, despite your reassuring smiles, that you wanted him to turn around right now and go home. Why couldn't the man just read your mind? Why do you have to explain everything to him word for word?

So here you are, a million degrees under the baking sun, sand in your sandals with the whole world of beautiful people apparently on this beach too. You stand there awkwardly, rubbing your arms hoping to shrink down to an ant and scurry away.

Trying to get to your knees is difficult at best, uncomfortable and pathetic, before settling on your bum with that massive tummy in the way of everything. You spread your legs and, fuck, you look like you might as well be pushing this baby out right now in this bloated birthing position. Could they kick you off the beach for looking like this???

Joel doesn’t pay any attention at all. He gets right to being a boy and digging a big hole in the sand like a 14 year old, despite his cracking knees and shifting groans from all the movement he’s got to do.

At least someone here is having a good time.

He carefully scoops the sand with his thick palm, making a smooth, rounded cavern. He even brought a tape measure, which he uses around your tummy first, strangely, and you don't even question it.

Once the hemisphere is dug to his satisfaction, smoothed over with his calloused fingers, he sits back and waves to you. 

You're picking little grains of sand off your moon-sized belly.

He coughs again, and you finally look up.

"Ta da!" He boasts proudly.

You throw your hands up defeatedly at his extremely unimpressive hole. "Okay?"

His lips draw tightly to a thin line, doubt crossing his face. “Wait, just—c’mere. Best part."

He grabs your hands and helps you to lie forward so that your belly has room to dip into the hole. And just like that, for the first time in months, you're lying on your front again.

It’s as if a massive ache in your back is suddenly relieved. "Oh my god! This feels amazing!" You cheer. The pressure your baby had been putting on your lower spine suddenly disappears, and all that weight is so perfectly supported by the carefully measured cradle he dug in the sand. It's been so long since you were in this position, you had dreams of the day you could again.

"Joel, you're—“

"Fuckin' amazin', I know darlin'."

He plants a special cooling pillow in front of you so you can rest your chin above the sand, no strain on your neck.

You sigh loudly, and extremely long, not even aware that it sounds like a pornographic moan.

"Behave, you," he tsks with a raised brow, his whispers tickling your ear.

"Mmmm.”

You wave him off, suddenly enjoying the warm heat of the sun on your bare back.

He lathers your exposed skin with gentle sun screen, massaging your shoulders, neck, sides. He takes special care to realllly rub your butt, 'so you don't burn.' Puts an umbrella over you too for good measure. With the reassuring feeling of Joels hands working out your muscles all over you, the crashing sound of waves in the distance and chirping seagulls, and feeling like you aren’t heavily pregnant for the first time in months, you quickly succumb to a nap.

-

Later when he's got food, double fisting some hot dogs, he sits you up and rubs the sand off your belly with a clean cloth. Joel scarfs the first one down, ketchup drooping down his wrist.

But you’re too distracted, and when you tell him its okay, he eats yours without a second thought. You laugh a little. Poor thing probably got baked under the sun too busy taking care of you.

He chews loudly, jaw working close with the amount of meat and mustard and bread bulging out. You lick your thumb and wipe away the droop of condiment spilling from his lips.

He playfully chases your hand with a bite, growling.

you shake your head. “You fucking weirdo.”

“Mmm. My pretty fuckin’ girl.”

His eyes rake over your body—skin radiant in the sun, so smooth and shiny from the oily sunscreen he had smoothed over you. Like something out of a dream. His dreams, to be exact. Not so appropriate dreams he may have already had after only the first week of dating you, and thinking about the day you might be exactly as you are—pregnant with a his ring on your finger.

Delirious with the sight of you, he leans in and starts kissing you, then groping and suckling alll down to your bloated belly.

"Joel, stop, people are gonna see!"

"Let them see, you're so fucking sexy right now.”

"STOP.” You grasp him a bit more firmly to pull his hungry mouth away from going any further down south. “We're not having sex right now. That's final. Now keep your bad boy parts in your pants.”

He pouts and grumbles, drawing away like a scolded child.

You watch as a group of kids play in the water and laugh, or two young girls collect more sea shells than their little hands can carry. Your hand absent-minded rubs over your belly, wondering what your baby is thinking right this moment. If she had thoughts. If she was listening and seeing through you, and feeling what you might be feeling right now.

Joel watches you. He can see that sense of distant longing in your eyes. 

Remembers when you first started dating, mid 20s and so young, and the first thing you said was you weren't sure about kids. He kind of knew he wanted at least one, but the more he got to know you, the more he was willing to give that idea up if it meant he got to keep you for the rest of his life. It took five years after you got married before he found you trembling but bravely presenting him a positive test, and he had to fight himself to keep all his emotions at bay in case you didn’t want this. You were so quiet, so unreadable. He wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk about it or not. 

Until you both went to your first ultrasound, and from that minute you saw the little blob on the screen, and the nurse said “meet mom and dad!” Your lives changed. The whole car ride home you were babbling excitedly about baby names, the color of the nursery, what your child might look like (you hoped she or he would look like Joel). 

You’re quiet right now like you were that day. He follows your eyes to the scene of all the kids playing together, their parents watching over and encouraging the sandcastle building or warning not to go too far out into the water: a happy family.

"I want more,” you say quietly, not really even addressing Joel as your eyes are stuck forward.

He just chuckles and shakes his head. “Baby, we still are working on getting one. Gotta wait before we can have another."

"I want her to have a sibling,” you mumble, holding your belly with both hands delicately.

He bends down and kisses your hand resting atop your swell. “I’ll give you as many as you want.... so long as it doesn't exceed two.”

Your head snaps back. “Three.”

"If there's 2, then that's 4 of us, which is the perfect number to sit at any restaurant. 4 is right. Plus a normal car sits 4 people comfortably. Do you really want a third baby being subjected to a middle seat?"

"Mini van?"

"We ain't getting a mini van. Over my dead body.”

"Well we can't use the truck!”

"Ya can put a baby seat in the truck."

You giggle at the imagery. "You've thought about this a lot haven't you, Mr. Miller?”

He's going off about why 4 also is the perfect number in most rollercoaster carts, but you can't help but just look at him, smiling warmly to yourself that you get to call this man yours.

“—I love you."

He stops mid sentence. A little jumped, but never surprised by your words. He caresses your cheek lovingly, his soft lips finding yours. "I love you too," he mumbles just hushed enough for only you to hear.

Your foreheads touch, as if you wanted your minds to meld into one. You kiss him again, then again a little more firmly. And more. Again, more—more, again. Until you're making out with him a little too passionately, your hand drifting south to his caress his Daddy belly and his Daddy parts—

He hand grabs your wrist to stop you. “Honey,” he warns. There’s a glint in his eye that is just barely keeping his mature brain functioning. With your tits all swollen and hefty with milk, spilling out of that poor excuse of a bra and begging for attention, along with your ass spilling out of that g-string-looking triangle hiding your more than likely wet flower... He’s unsure if he can't keep his erection at bay if you keep acting like this while looking like this.

"I want you," you breathe, your lips crashing on his.

"I want you too,” he hums between your insatiable teeth biting along his tongue. “But..."

"But?"

"You said no sex at the beach."

"I know. I'm waiting for you to get off your lazy ass and take me in the truck."

-

Joel had never packed shit up quicker in his life. He’s bunched up bottles and towels and sunglasses and whatever junk he had brought all up in a towel with one arm and ran barefoot to the parking lot, his other hand dragging you as you wiggled excitedly behind him. He throws it all in the truckbed and unlatches the door for you, helping you up with a quick smack to your sandy asscheek. He gets in and rolls up the windows. Not bothering to check if anyone is around. 

You pull him close and start shoving his shorts down.

Its hot and rushed and promising—until you quickly realize your baby does not want any truck-fucking business happening because there's no possible configuration the two of you can get in to have sex with the sheer size of your tummy in the way.

He can sense the tears of frustration welling in your eyes, immediately caressing you as he buckles you in and revs the truck to life. 

“It’s okay, its okay, it's okay, we'll have car sex again after she's born, how's that? Just a beautiful girl you are. Too sexy like this. Need to do it on a comfortable bed, that’s all. Can't have ya all to myself whenever I want, huh?"

You nod, desperate to suck up all your tears. Quite frankly you know that you ugly cry, and Joel knows you ugly cry, and you don’t want to ugly cry. You remember that your pussy is wet and waiting to get home so he can spoil you properly.

He continues to adoring rub over your belly, a constant affection of his touch reminding you to stay level. With one hand gripping the wheel, eyes trained forward, he glides down over your naval and urges you to part your legs.

You slip back a bit, giving him the widened access he needs to dip his middle under your bikini bottoms and between your slick folds. You moan loudly, hips arching forward to get more of his finger rubbing along your swollen clit.

“Joooeeeeeel,” you whimper impatiently. He can’t dip any more than an inch of his finger in you due to the stretch of his arm over you belly. Instead, he swipes along your slit, gathering your wetness and smearing it on your nub.

"Ahhh, oh sweetheart, you’re just drippin' me." He retracts his hand and plunges his finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue over and over and sucking your juices clean off with a pop.

You eye his bulge stabbing through his trousers. "I wish I could suck you off right now." You whine, squeezing your achy breasts and hoping he can steal a glance at you.

"Mmm, those were good times, huh?"

You groan, frustrated. Turns out the baby was cock blocking you in numerous ways from doing things you enjoyed in your youth. Your “youth” feeling like it just a few months ago when driving BJs were your favorite way of nearly getting pulled over.

Eventually you do get home, and you throw the seatbelt over. This baby was NOT stealing truck-fucking from you. Not. Today. 

Joel can’t stop your rush. You’re clambering over the dash, knee pressing into Joel’s bulge painfully and elbowing his chest trying to get into a position.

"Okay wait—just—OW! Hon—s-urgghh— HOLD ON.”

You maneuver him to sit at the center of the back seat, with your back facing him and ass hovering over his cock. He’s protectively holding your waist in your squatting position. You sit back slowly, moaning as he penetrates your slit. With both hands on either side of the front seats shoulders in front of you, you begin gently rocking and bouncing.

He holds your belly, guiding you up and down, back and forth on his dick

"Fuck. Fuck, I love you, Joel. I cant wait—nnmmm—to have your baby!"

He grumbles in agreement, watching the space where his length disppears into your sopping cunt and comes back wet and shiny from your arousal.

It feels fantastic after waiting so long, being so pent up and needy for each other since—like 20 minutes ago.

And There's about 18 more seconds of this before you're slowing down. Joel can feel it too: the awkward clench, slipping out of you every few seconds, creaking in the truck's seat, the wet scratchiness of the sand still wedged there, your hand on your back from the pain, unable to bounce on him with the weight of you, the overall struggle that’s paving way for very shitty, very uncomfortable, very unsatisfying sex. You stop altogether and sit in his lap with his cock impaling you, almost casually.

"I'm tired,” you sigh in defeat, out of breath.

Joel just nods behind you. He kisses your shoulder blade and helps you off him.

Baby: 1.

You: 0

“Bed is still open, if ya want it…” you mumble into his whiskered cheek before planting a soft kiss.

His excitement jolts him into a frenzied leap out of the truck. “Bathroom, then bed, and I expect to see your legs spread and naked.”

You giggle and the two of you part in different directions in the house.

Joel quickly uses the bathroom before tripping over his clothes while stripping, eager to finally make you cry about how good he’s going to pleasure you.

Only to find you nestled on the couch curled up with your hand perched under your cheek, drooling into the pillow. Even despite your sunkissed skin, the dryness of your lips from the salty ocean air, the sand you complained between your folds and wedged up your ass by your bikini didn't matter. As the afternoon warm sun bleeds from the drapes lulled you to a gentle rest, secure and safe in your own home. 

Joel kneeled beside you, cupping your cheek soothingly.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

You stir slightly, smiling with a hazy half conscious state. "I know," you respond cheekily, before nuzzling into his hand again and falling back asleep.

Joel stays there for hours, one hand resting over your belly, just watching the woman he's fallen so hard for, wondering what in the world he's done to deserve such a blessing.

- - - -

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[ineffectualdemon]

People have no respect to sensory issues

It's always seen like it's not a big deal. Like you're being precious or "fussy" over minor discomfort instead of incredible pain

Back when I still walked my kid to school I mentioned in passing that my husband had to change his deodorant brand because the one he had been using had changed formula and was giving me migraines

And everyone treated me like I was being a stuck up control freak about this

Saying shit like "well I don't care what my husband wears as long as he smells nice"

And I was like "I wouldn't care either if wearing certain scents didn't giving me debilitating pain"

No one believes that the lights are certain brightnesses cause headaches and pain

No one believes that sounds can be like a nail jammed in your ear

No one believes that the fan blowing on you can feel like sandpaper being dragged along your skin

It's believed you can just power through all of this

There have been times when me and my kid and have gone to enter a building and been unable to because the sound coming from it is so painful

No one respects it

When we say we can't wear some things due to the texture that day people thing it's a minor irritation that will eventually wear off

But no. It's like wearing a suit made of sandpaper and fire ants and the longer you wear it the more painful it is

And yeah maybe I can wear that fine a week from now but not today

And no I can't explain why today is different

It feels sometimes that no one believes it's that bad. Our pain is dismissed and demeaned and thought of as less

I have daily pain from fibromyalgia and arthritis, a bad back, and osteoarthritis. It's bad enough I can't get out of bed some days and I am constantly in severe pain from these physical disabilities

And days when I'm having particularly bad sensory issues? I find those worse

Because I can take pain meds and do treatments that reduce the other pain. But when existing on this plane of existence is what's hurting? There's nothing really I can do

And it's infuriating that no one takes it seriously

[golden-hearts-silver-tongues-if]

Demo: (Release Date: when i figure out twine, and then a week)

Life was never easy, but the day you first found your talent for less than legal practices, it certainly got easier. And when you finally got taken in by a nosy noble who could appreciate your talents, life finally seemed like it was looking up. But the highlife isn't all it was cracked out to be. You had to leave behind your best friend for this chance at the high life, and that's not even to mention all the enemies you've made while in service of the person who brought you in. Was it worth it? Can you keep your skeletons nice and tidy in your closet? Or will the past prove to have a few too many chips on its shoulder. ------------- This is a game about many things. Struggling to find meaning in your own life, trying to cling to those you care about as life drags you apart, and what can happen when you don't make peace before the storm. You take on the role of a peasant with a talent for the illegal, be that quick hands or a quicker wit. After years of dealing with the dirt of life to make a living, you get taken in (read, bought into service) of a noble who claims to have nothing but good intentions. They want to expose other nobility for their wrongdoings while climbing the ranks themselves. Will you be willing to remain loyal to their cause, or is money truly the only thing motivating you? That remains up to you to decide. Golden Hearts, Silver Tongues is rated 18+ for explicit language, mature themes, drug and alcohol use and abuse, violence, thoughts and mentions of suicide, self-harm, death and mental trauma. -------------

Customizable MC, choose your gender, pronouns, appearance, sexuality, romantic attraction, personality, history with some characters, potential disabilities, and most importantly, how you choose to go about your crimes. Are you a smooth talker, or someone who prefers actions over words?

Romance one of four available ROs? Will you fall back to your tumultuous Ex/Ex Best Friend? Or perhaps your new coworker or Boss? Or perhaps the most dangerous, the Ex-Noble hunting you down?

Struggle with Morality as you get pulled in different directions. What constitutes good anyways? And let's be honest, do you even care about being good at this point?

Resolve all of your lingering issue, before choosing how to move forwards. To remain trapped by the chains of your past, or to cast it all off and move forwards, unburdened. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

-------------

Romance Options:

The Rival (F, Cis or Trans selectable) - Your one and only friend in the early days of your life, and perhaps something more? You two grew up together and often were the only ones each other had. Perhaps she was your best friend, your lover, or someone you were so close to you could consider them family. Regardless, whatever she was, she isn't anymore. A fight caused a rift between you two, and now you two aren't on talking terms, much less anything else. So, when she shows up to one of your jobs, to steal the same items no less, is it any surprise things don't go well? Tropes - Exes to Lovers, Childhood Crush, Exfriends to Lovers, Rivals/Enemies to Lovers

The Boss (M, F, NB selectable) - The person who scooped you off the streets and showed you what the high life was like, and all you had to do was steal whatever they told you. Simple enough, right? You'd think. In practice, it seems like they keep upping the ante on your targets and at some point, you have to wonder whether or not this is all born out of good intentions. Though, with the looks they keep sending your way, perhaps more than just your skills have captivated them? No, that couldn't be true. After all, a noble and a peasant would cause far too much of an uproar for the already tumultuous figure that is your boss. Right? Gender Footnote - If NB, the Boss will be Agender. Tropes - Forbidden Love, Age Gap, Nobility x Peasant, Employer x Employee

The Coworker (M, Cis or Trans selectable) - A surprise your boss sprung on you just a few months ago, he is another noble who embraced your Boss' rhetoric and now wants to help reveal the darker side of the Kingdom. It's a shame he doesn't know what he's doing, but luckily (or unluckily), that is where you come in. Tasked to show him the ropes of thieving, you must figure out how to teach this eager learner what you've known all your life. He might not have quick hands, nor can he lie to save his life, but if there's one thing, he knows it's how to get up after a failure. And that surely has no correlation to all the gifts of his you've ignored over the years, right? Tropes - Coworkers to Lovers, Master x Apprentice, First Crush, Himbo, Potentially Grumpy x Sunshine

The Baron (M, F, NB selectable) - Hate is a strong word. Luckily, the Baron is a strong person. The first major noble your Boss ever sent you after, they by far had the hardest fall from grace out of anyone you know. Going from ruling an entire quarter of the Kingdom, to being nothing more than a rogue knight hunting you down for revenge. It's a shame they still have so much money at their disposal to hunt you with, and for all that it's worth, they are very good at finding you. Catching you, not so much. You always manage to just barely evade their capture....surely nothing to think about. Gender Footnote - If NB, the Baron will be Genderfluid. Tropes - Hate-Hate Relationship, Enemies to Lovers, Murder makes people hot, Villian Route, Potentially Redemption Arc

------------- Note Zone: Hey there! Thanks for reading all the way through this. This little place down here is where I plan on placing things like links in the future, and also any notes on progress or big topics and stuff that comes up. For now, all asks are welcomed, and once again thank you!

[shadowsandshapes]

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 | afab!Reader/Geto Suguru

◇ summary: Sometimes you forget Geto is just a guy. But then he shows a sense of vulnerability that surprises you. After a particularly emotionally draining battle, you run him a warm bath and take care of his aches. ◇ contains: Friends To Lovers, Pining, Reverse Comfort, Splish-Splash Water Activities, Casual Nudity, Fluff ◇ tag: @the-milk-anon ◇ wc: [4.1K] (Ao3)

Suguru Geto was just a man.

You tended to forget about that fact every once in a while. To most people, he was this mysterious, enigmatic Buddhist priest — a healer who never turned away a soul in need. A kind, smiling man who received the ill and distraught and cured their worries with a simple wave of a hand. It was a carefully crafted image that came almost naturally to Geto. You had to admire his acting skills. The truth was much, much darker than that. Geto was building an army of curses and those people were merely tools he used to achieve that, a means to an end. Their pain meant nothing to him. Only a select few people ever got to see the real Suguru Geto, the man behind the polite smiles and unparalleled poise — and they better pray to whatever god was listening they never crossed him in a bad way.

He was so kind, patient and understanding with fellow curse users. There was a deep, caring fondness in his eyes whenever Geto looked at you or the little girls he had adopted all those years ago. Every sorcerer under his wing had his seal of approval. More than just that, you were a family in Geto’s eyes — with him as your just but stern patriarch. He cared for you in his own way and built his entire philosophy on wanting to see his fellow curse users thrive in a world that had been cruel to their very existence.

A beautiful wish — in theory.

It was easy to forget that only a lucky few received such gentle treatment from him.

Each time Geto cut down a civilian, you were reminded of how monstrous he could truly be. They were ants beneath his boot. Inferior, useless beings not even worth keeping as a pet. He didn’t even blink as their blood tainted the earth beneath his feet, pooling toward him and staining the bottom edge of his robes. Their cries for mercy went unheard, morphing into a chilling scream as one of Geto’s many curses tore them limb from limb. No matter how often you witnessed the man’s cruelty manifesting like this — it never got any easier to digest. The crunching of bone and snapping of tendons sent a chill down your spine, each brutal rip of flesh echoing in your brain as you closed your eyes to the horrors. 

Curses were easy to kill — humans were not.

Geto’s eyes were cold, devoid of any emotion as their lifeless bodies slumped to the ground. He didn’t care. They weren’t people in his eyes. Dealing with them was as easy as snuffing out a candle or flipping a switch. You approached him, as you always did, and placed a hand on his shoulder. A subtle tension settled in his muscles as you touched him — like every inch of his body was on high alert, burning with adrenaline and subdued rage.

Those people, those insects, they were inferior to you and him in every way. Monkeys. Nothing but the scum of the earth.

But Suguru Geto was a man. And no matter how much he liked to pretend the faces of the people he killed didn’t haunt his dreams, he couldn’t lie to himself forever. You saw the emptiness in his eyes and knew it was difficult to distance himself from what he was doing to these people. Even if he genuinely believed it was necessary. 

“Let’s go home,” you offered, wanting nothing more than to take him away from the nightmare he had created. Geto nodded — the movement of his head was slow and sluggish like he wasn’t quite there, present in the moment with you. You couldn’t blame him. 

As soon as your soft fingers brushed against his palm, Geto blinked, regaining some of his senses. A smile returned to his face but you couldn’t help but notice how the shine didn’t quite reach his eyes. This was merely a feeble attempt at saving face — he wanted to show you how strong he was for you, for everyone, but you knew better. 

He followed you in silence, using the grasp of your hand as a tether to keep him grounded in reality. No matter how dark things got, Geto could always rely on you to bring him back to the light. How did you do it, he wondered, shuffling after you as you led him back home, staring at the back of your head while his mind came down from the mental paralysis brought about by his misdeeds. Killing the weak, shaping humanity for the next step of evolution — it was easy to get lost in his own head doing what he did. All for the greater good. Some days Geto wondered if and when he’d lose his mind. It was a grim prospect.

Perhaps he already had.

It wasn’t until you made it back to Geto’s borrowed estate that the man was able to come back to earth. His eyes locked onto his reflection in a hallway mirror as he passed by. The blood and sweat caked to his skin burned like a raging inferno as he caught sight of it. He looked — cursed. Monstrous and vile. It wasn’t right. Geto didn’t want to feel this way anymore — this soiled, broken image of a tyrant wasn’t how he wanted to be perceived. But even he couldn’t deny the truth the mirror was showing him. 

Something had to be done.

“Would you draw me a bath?” His voice was quiet, barely rising above a whisper. You almost thought your ears were deceiving you when he first asked the question.

Such an honest request — its simplicity caught you off guard for a second. When you looked at him now, you didn’t see your fearless leader or the enigmatic priest – Geto just seemed lost instead. His brow was furrowed, taut with concern and uneasiness. Deep lines, ones you had never noticed before, carved their way across his forehead, making the man look much older than he really was. Your hand tightened its grip on his palm and he smiled at the touch. It was a small and insignificant gesture, but it was enough for him. For once in his life, Geto was asking for help. He needed you.

Maybe not you, specifically, you told yourself. But you would not deny him this vulnerability.

“Of course.” You tugged the man along behind you as you headed for the bathroom without delay. Geto followed quietly, letting you be his guide both mentally and physically. You wouldn’t lead him astray, he trusted you in that and more. His sweet, loyal little sorcerer. The world was desperately yearning for more people like you. It was starved for the type of tenderness your touch could provide — Geto himself could relate to that sentiment, more than he would ever admit out loud. 

You sat on the edge of the bath, waiting for it to fill up and making sure the water's temperature was to his liking. Suguru came up behind you and gave you a pat on the back, a tired smile tugging at the edge of his lips. He was exhausted but your presence felt like a comforting blessing. This life would be miserable for a regular person but you were one of the few people able to understand his struggles.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Suguru disrobing. Without another word, you left the tub to fill up and assisted in removing the layers upon layers of ceremonial garb. His eyes softened as he watched your deft hands loosening his robes. It was always such a hassle getting them on and off—you knew he tended to struggle with that. He didn’t even have to ask for help, you just appeared whenever he needed you. 

Your brow creased as you tugged at the silks, your frustration apparent in the soft huff that escaped your lips.

“I know, I know—why do I wear this thing in the first place?” Suguru asked, anticipating the question floating around in your head.

“I know why. Showmanship. It sells the whole holier-than-thou act.” You slid the first layer off his shoulders, carefully folding the garment so it wouldn't crumple. “Doesn't make it less annoying to take off, though.”

Suguru laughed. “It's a good thing you're here then. I can use the extra hands.”

You were so adorably meticulous as you helped him undress, Surugu couldn’t help but smile at the way you carefully folded and stowed away each layer of clothing. For all your complaining about his little priest get-up, you sure did show it a lot of respect. Even though you knew it was essentially just a prop, you moved his clothes onto the bathroom counter with the utmost care. Suguru noticed the way your fingers lingered against the fabric as you smoothed out any wrinkles.

So gentle. Soft. 

In contrast, Suguru was jagged. Marred with blemishes that would never truly heal. He was willing to risk life and limb for his cause and the evidence of that could be found within the deep, unsightly scars on both body and soul.

You caught sight of these marks as Suguru removed his hadajuban—laying himself bare. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen him naked and you knew better than to pry about his healed injuries. Sorcerers who could heal others were in short supply, doubly so for your little family of rogue curse users. As a result, any injury sustained in battle would have to heal the natural way—which left a myriad of scars behind. This time, he’d gotten away with just a few bumps and bruises but that didn’t mean Suguru would be as lucky next time around. You couldn’t help but release a sigh. He looked tired. Dried blood crusted his hair and trailed down the side of his neck and chest. You made a mental note to take care of that as soon as possible. 

When the bath was full, Suguru didn’t waste time sinking into the warm water and closed his eyes with a satisfied grunt.

"Do you want me to leave you in peace or should I wash your hair?" you asked, moving a little side table closer with all kinds of soaps and shampoos, brushes and sponges. If he wanted to be by himself, you would respect his wishes but a part of you really wanted to be there for Suguru. He didn’t seem quite himself tonight.

"You can stay, sweet girl," he replied simply and opened his eyes to meet you with a faint smile. As much as Suguru loved being alone, he was always comforted whenever you decided to stick around. "Your company is nice," he added as your eyes followed the movement of his hand as he splashed the bathwater, the realization of what Suguru was implying slowly setting in. “Why don’t you join me?”

Oh. Okay.

"Give me a minute," you said and scooched to the corner of the room to unrobe.

His eyes never left you—you could feel his gaze in the back of your head as you shed each and every layer of clothing until you were completely bare. Despite this sense of awareness, you felt comfortable. Suguru had that effect. Any other man laying eyes upon you like this would make your skin crawl, but not him. The bond of trust between the two of you was stronger than that. You didn't feel the need to hide from Suguru—there was a sense of respect to his gaze, an appreciation for your body as if it were a priceless artifact.

After safely stowing away your own garments, you climbed into the warm water right alongside him–leaning on the opposite side of the tub with a blissful sigh on your lips.

"You may be the prettiest sorcerer I've ever seen," Suguru commented, the heat of the bath and the exhaustion of the day making his voice raspier than normal. Damn–he was exhausted.

"You're just saying that."

"Am I?" Suguru questioned back, staring as you waved a hand, dismissing his compliment, and grabbed a sponge to lather your skin. “Am I lying?” he prompted again–pushing you to look at him and truly think about it.

This was not the first time the two of you had bathed together–and in that time he had always found a way to steal a glance or two whenever he could, discreetly admiring just how utterly breathtaking you were. But there was no hiding his appreciation this time. There was a raw honesty to his expression that took you by surprise, making your hands pause mid-scrub as you let out a quiet chuckle in response.

"You're not lying, you're being polite," you said. "Come here, you've got blood on you."

You leaned forward in the tub, placing the sponge on his chest and rubbing it in small circles to loosen up the grime stuck to his skin.

Each stroke and drag of the sponge had an almost ritualistic quality to it. With these gentle, careful touches you managed to banish all of Suguru’s burdens and aches. If he didn’t know any better, Suguru would have thought you were casting a spell on him. He let you clean him, his heart skipping a beat as he felt the gentle touch of your hands. In the midst of everything he does, this moment, this feeling was the closest thing he had had to being human in a very long time. You were careful and concentrated as you worked, taking care to clean and wash him properly. His chest, arms and stomach all got a gentle scrub. When the grime and dirt were all gone, you turned your attention to his injuries. Nothing too serious at first glance but your brow still furrowed with worry. Your focus then shifted to his older injuries, scars that told of many battles. Your fingers reached out and traced them gently, almost absentmindedly as you quietly admired his strength.

"You know, you deserve a little tenderness every now and then," you said. It almost sounded like you were scolding him for being so rough all the time but Suguru knew you didn't mean it that way.

"A little tenderness, huh?" he echoed—wondering if he truly qualified for such a luxury.

"Mhm," you hummed in agreement, placing the used sponge back on the side table. You would take care of yourself later—right now Suguru needed some attention. Something to wash away not just the literal grime of the day, but also soothe his mind and soul. If you could help with that, you would. You scooted a little closer into his arms, sitting on your knees. "Let me wash your hair...c'mon. Then we can get out of this tub."

He was surprised by your forwardness and your little maneuver to get into his arms in particular. Suguru did not mind it one bit. He had always been curious to see just how far you'd take things between the two of you. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, nothing made him feel as safe as letting you be near him.

"That sounds nice," he replied, smiling softly at the idea.

Your fingers gently massaged his scalp, running through his long hair to detangle it gently. Your eyes remained focused on Suguru as you worked, soaping up his hair and running your fingers along all the little pressure points you could find. The touch was soothing and relaxing, rubbing away the tension on his brow and scalp with each pass of the fingers.

The more you worked, the more his stress melted away. After a while, he couldn't help but let out a quiet moan from the satisfaction your hands provided. Your touch was different—it felt genuine. There was something almost otherworldly to it.

He let his eyes drift closed, allowing the sensations to overcome him as he leaned his head onto you for more comfort. Seeing him this blissful and happy did bring a smile to your face. When his hair was thoroughly shampooed, you took a small cup from the side table and filled it with bath water. One of your hands rested against Suguru's forehead, preventing water from cascading down his face as you rinsed the soap from his hair with the little cup.

"Feeling good?"

"Very," he replied with a smile, his eyes still closed in blissful relaxation. There were few people in the world who could make him feel like this. Few people he trusted so deeply that he'd ever put himself in a situation where he was truly relaxed, vulnerable and at your mercy. "What about you? Are you feeling well?" he added with a tilt of his head, his breathing slightly shaky from your touch.

You nodded quietly, fishing a bottle of leave-in conditioner from the side table. It was yours, but you didn't mind sharing it with Suguru for once. You spread the product between your fingers before gently running it through his hair. It smelled just like you.

"I'm just glad to see you finally relaxing a little," you said, massaging the leave-in conditioner onto his roots.

Normally he would be against the idea of someone taking care of him like this. He was the strong one—the protector, after all. But he decided to surrender his pride to you and let you be the one in charge for now. You were a special case. You were the one friend that he trusted so dearly.

"I was only able to relax because..." he trailed off, deciding to show his vulnerable and honest self for once and finally admitting the truth. "Because of you, sweet girl. You always go above and beyond for me," he added, letting out another satisfied sigh.

The gravity of those words made you halt your movements for a second. But only for a second. Suguru could see you took what he had said to heart—a small, genuine smile forming on your lips as you continued to pamper and care for him. As soon as you were satisfied with your work, you rinsed off your hands in the water.

"I'm glad I can bring you some peace," you whispered. 

"I'm glad too."

You were done. Bathed, pampered and cleaned from top to bottom, which meant it was time to get out of the tub. He watched as your smile flourished and found himself smiling back as well. You always managed to brighten up any room, just by being you. No matter what misery Suguru found himself in, you were a spark of hope. Of love. And if he were a braver man he’d tell you this.

Suguru took hold of your hands and helped you up, a warmth growing inside his chest when you took his hand. "Shall we get out of here?"

"Yeah," you said being careful not to slip and fall on the slippery surface as you rose from the tub. One of the racks on the wall held clean towels: you handed Suguru one and took another for yourself, then returned to the tub to drain the water and stow away all the things you had used. Suguru took the towel and started drying himself off. Once he was finished, he returned the towel to you and put on his robe before stepping over towards you.

"Come here. I have something I'd like to show you," he said in a low tone of voice. It felt different when he spoke to other people. He had such a way with words when it came to you, and it caught you off-guard every time.

You had retrieved one of the robes too, wrapping it around yourself and tying the ends of the waist shawl to keep it closed. Your eyes found Suguru's as he approached you: they widened ever so slightly when he placed a hand on the back of your neck.

"What is it, Geto?"

He continued to gaze at you quietly, a slight grin tugging on his lips.

"Close your eyes," he said after a small pause. His voice was soft and quiet. There was a different kind of warmth to it now, a hint of intimacy that he had yet to display with you. "I have...something I feel like showing to you." Suguru could feel your skepticism even as you obeyed this command, chuckling at the suspicious little pout on your lips. You were wary of him–but decided to place your trust in his hands regardless. "No funny business. I promise."

Suguru was being a little disingenuous right now, he knew that. All he really wanted in this moment was to admire you for a moment, to work up the courage to speak on what was in his heart. But it was hard. He'd faced countless horrors and consumed the rot of the world all for the sake of his unfathomable dream. In that pursuit, he'd felt lonely. And then you came along. You meant the world to him—and the fact that you weren't aware of this was a most unforgivable deception. 

What are dreams if they’re not shared with the one you love most?

He sighed. His hands moved to cradle your face, gently resting against your cheeks as his thumbs stroked the soft skin beneath his palm. You were so beautiful—Suguru could stall no longer. He should bury these feelings. Really. It was the safer bet, but it would kill him to keep lying to you.

"Open your eyes please." As soon as you did what he asked, a smile spread across his face and his eyes immediately locked with yours. "What do you see when you look at me?" he asked. The question carried something raw–a vulnerability you were not used to seeing from Suguru. You immediately knew this was serious. "Do you see someone worthy of your time? Worth your trust?"

"What–of course I do, Geto. You have my trust and time. Always."

You could hear the relief in his breath. The pure affection shining in his eyes was in such contrast to the coldness he normally expressed that it was difficult to grasp the truth. This wasn’t one of those fake, practiced smiles he had mastered in the name of manipulation—no. Suguru looked thoroughly smitten—almost miserably so.

"I just... wanted to make sure." His voice was shaky and unsteady. "I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," you assured him.

"Promise me you won't leave me," he replied, his voice shaking with intensity. Too many people had let him down—too many souls had left his care.  "I don't have anything without you."

"I promise," you affirmed—voice steady and certain. The only thing you wanted was to make him happy. To bring him relief and peace when he needed it. Leaving him was the furthest thing from your mind. You were in this together.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You have nothing to thank me for, Geto," you said, brushing your thumb against his cheek. This must have been difficult for him to do, you realized. Confessing one's true feelings and desires was never easy. For a man like Suguru, doubly so. "Now that your cards are on the table, what's next?"

"I...I want to kiss you more than anything," he replied quietly. "I want you and I need you. Is that too much to ask?"

How could you refuse him? You couldn't. Not when he was this vulnerable and real for once in his life. The hand on his cheek continued to gently caress his face, even as you leaned in to grant his wish. Your lips found his as you kissed him, answering his question in the only way you could.

Suguru Geto was just a man. And he would never be too much for you.

He wanted this more than anything, and the moment you felt his lips on yours, a wave of relief washed over him.

Suguru wasted no time pulling you closer as he let out a quiet moan into your mouth. It felt almost unreal that he was showing this much intimacy to you. All other thoughts were lost as you let the moment wash over you, allowing yourself to sink into his kiss. Suguru felt like he couldn't possibly get enough of you. This was love. It couldn't just be a passing fancy or lust. You meant so much to him that the very thought of anyone or anything taking you away from him made him sick.

Suguru allowed himself to be weak—just this once.

"...I want you," he said, breaking the kiss with a breathless sigh.

Hearing those words, that spontaneous admission of desire, made your heart skip a beat. Suguru, who was always so deliberate and collected, was desperate enough to say something like that in the heat of the moment.

"You already have me."

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[yuriisclumsy]

After I read that Cale x flirty reader!!..I screamed..Like oh my!!.. Can I make a request where is the enemy to lovers?.. Like the reader is a villain who likes to flirt with Cale every time they meet. In addition, this reader is shameless.. Definitely a mess dan chaotic 🤣🤣🤣.. And the reader kisses Cale on the cheek before she leaves saying 'Next time we meet, I'll ask for the size of your ring finger, Bye baby.".. I want to see Cale and the many reactions too..Bye author

Take care of yourself 😘

Villains Have a Heart Too, Y'know

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,355

»»►When I got this request I was surprised many people liked Flirty Reader!

»»►I went off a bit from the request, but what can I do? When a good plot just pops up I have to follow it, no matter if it has little to do with the request. Still, I do try to make it as closely to the asker's request.

»»►I feel like, for this scenario, it would take place in the Whooper Kingdom–you’ll know why once you read.

»»►On another note, [Name] has had encounters with Cale ever since he somehow got transmigrated into the world of Birth of a Hero. The man is tired. But let’s be real, when is he not?

»»►Cale just has to deal with another headache-giving-maniac sadly.

Metals were crashing.

The clash between steel signified a battle taking place. Brutal forces wrestle against each other for dominion. 

Fighting for power. It has always been like this.

Walls and towers, buildings–whether high or low–cumbled due to the aggressiveness of battle. Many scurried off to safety, finding a safe place to hide until the warfare concluded with its victors.

In the Whopper Kingdom, where mages were deemed to be spans of evil, stood a woman of great talent. She was a genius in her field, with masses tittling her: “The Grand Magician.”

The Grand Magician had been a force not to be reckoned with ever since her ascension through the Magic Tower. Which is why she is the main target for the Rebellion; Toonka's sworn enemy.

“Come back here witch!” a wounded man yelled.

“Awww, is little Toonka unable to land a hit?” the girl said. She giggled at the man’s inability to harm her.

“Why, you little sh-t! AHHH!” The man–Tookan–charged at her with fists fully ready to punch her. He missed by a large margin.

“You missed me!~” the girl taunted Toonka. She had been flying on a broom this whole time, using spells to her advantage, without fully killing the barbaric man. She had the power to eliminate her opponent, but she found more joy from playing with her food.

She laughed at Toonka’s poor excuse of attacks.

“Get down here you demon-incarnate!”

“My my, that insult is far too sophisticated for you! Did you finally grow a brain?”

“I alway had a brain you b-tch!” Toonka leaped in the air in anger, and missed her once again.

“What foul language,” the mage manifested a staff, “I should teach you some manners!” Twirling her staff summoned a ray of spells; casting lighting in the field—all which Toonka managed to avoid. How lucky.

“Damn you woman!” Toonka screamed as he barely missed a bolt.

“Hehehe…HAHAHAHA!” The girl laughed hysterically with tears in her eyes. She loved to see people from above, scramble like ants.

“Hahaha...ahhh. Dear me, I haven’t had this much fun in a while,” she said, wiping away a tear that had formed.

An orb suddenly appeared next to the mage flashing in alert.

“Hmmm…” in amusement she took it into her hands, one hand gracefully waving above it. An image appeared on the sphere; a red haired male was shown through the ball—he seems to be inside the Magic Tower.

“Dear me, if it isn't my sweet love,” she looks at Toonka after making the crystal ball disappear, “sorry, little Toonka, seems our playtime needs to be paused and rescheduled to a later date. Hope you can keep entertaining me. Ta ta~”

Casting a spell, she disappeared slowly to the disgust of the man she bid farewell to.

She had done it on purpose.

“GET BACK HERE YOU WRETCH!”

…

The twentieth floor, the master of the magic tower’s room.

“I-I thought I was going to die…!!”

A young mouse-dwarf child had almost seen his soul ascending to the heavens above a few seconds prior, when his tiny body was lifted off the ground and flew to the top of the magic tower.

He stepped back trying to ground himself. He bumped into someone, making him turn around apologetically.

“I-I’m sorry,” he turned around only to see a cat.

“Meoow.”

His eyes meet the gaze I casted at him.

“...”

“Ah.”

How awkward.

“There is one more floor in the magic tower,” the kid said, diverting his embarrassing moment. 

“Then is the twenty-first floor the master's room?” I, in all my mercy, went on with my business like nothing happened. This was much appreciated by the boy.

“No, that’s not what we call it.”

“Then what do you call it?” I questioned him.

The real room of the master of the magic tower. A place that even the non-wizard alliance hasn’t found; a room no one knew the existence of.

At Least, that was the only thing that was stated in Birth of a Hero.

“Ground Zero,” a high pitched voice responded.

“We call it Ground Zero.”

It doesn't belong to the child, nor could it have come from him–since he didn’t know the room's actual name–the cats did not speak in this form, they knew better than that.

I can recognize that voice even if I become half deaf…

“[Name]...” I called the name of the intruder, facing her as she appeared from a mist that manifested out of thin air.

“Hello,” She smiled innocently, “it’s been a while…dear Cale.”

I stare at her with a suspicion of a hundred detectives. “What are you doing here?”

The children recoil behind me. The mouse: scared out of his mind; The cats: hissing at the intruder.

She had been causing nothing but wreck since the day I met her.

“Awww… did you not miss me?” She pouted.

“No.” I said bluntly.

In truth, although she is destructive, she’s never killed anyone. She may act like an evil witch, but she’ll alway cast barriers to protect.

The reason she acts like she does is still a mystery, even to me.

“Bo-hoo…” She pouted. She quickly got over it and spoke, “So, Want the treasure of this tower now? You know, if you called for me beforehand, I would have shown you the way.”

“Then take me there.”

“Nope,” She smiled teasingly at me. Honestly…can’t I just have a day without a headache. “If I did, you would just leave right after, leaving me all alone in this empty tower.”

“Then what do you propose?” I inquired.

“Well… I want to join your little fiasco.”

“*HISS*” the cats hissed at her. They really don’t like her.

I narrowed my eyes on her. I can’t deny that she would be really useful if she joined us. But on the contrary, the people of the anti-wizard organization would look at us in a not so good light. Tonka is my main problem. If I let her in, Toonka will follow me until the end of the world for, quote-on-quote, “betraying him.”

I don’t need more problems. But his majesty would kill me if he found out I didn’t recruit her in. Luck isn't on my side this time.

“You can join.”

“Oh, I knew you wouldn't let me—wait, what?” she paused, looking at me incredulously. “What did you say?”

“I said you can join,” I repeated.

“...”

“...”

“...”

“I CAN JOIN?!?!?!?”

We flinched back.

Jeez… Wasn’t it her idea in the first place? Why is she acting like this after I said yes? Honestly… I’ll never understand a woman’s mind.

“..yes,” I said slowly to not ignite another yell.

She jumped up and down while squealing in excitement.

“Oh, I have to go and pack my things!” she summoned her staff, with a swing in the air she started to disappear the same way she appeared. “See you soon love! Next time I’ll ask for your ring size!~”

“Oh, and little Mueller?” she spoke to the boy hiding behind me.

“Yes..!” he shrieked.

“Open up Ground Zero for Cale, will you?” She then fully vanished.

“*sigh…*” I turn to look at Mueller. “Well? Are you going to open ground zero, or not?”

“Ah! Y-yes, right away!” he scurried off to do what he was told.

What have I gotten myself into?

"Human, do you want me to obliviate her?"

"No!"

Fin

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Master-List

[steveharringtonat3am]

Free use with Steve

kinktober masterlist!!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: roomate!steve, free use agreement (fully consensual), an allusion to sex, hair pulling, degradation, a little bit of bondage, penetrative sex, edging

a/n: shoutout to the loml @ddejavvu for helping me out with some characterization!! dedicating this one to her as 1/2 of her birthday present!! <3

When I had first seen Steve’s ad for a roommate, I hadn’t paid any mind to the lack of a rent price in the ad. I figured he would let me know if he actually wanted me to move in. So after he showed me around and we talked for a bit about all the major stuff, I asked about it. And he gave the most intriguing answer I’ve ever heard.

“Well, I’m gonna offer you two options. You could pay half of the rent, so about $900 a month or…you could-could pay nothing.” This option seems to make him nervous, as he shifts slightly in his seat.

“Pay nothing?”

“See, that comes with a catch. If you choose to pay nothing then I would cover you and…you would have to return the favour.” A hint of red colours his cheeks. While I admit it suits him, it gives me a hint as to where this conversation is going.

“And how would I do that?”

“By being a-available at all times.” He smiles sheepishly and fiddles with his hoodie strings

“Available for…what exactly?”

“Sex.” When he says it I think I’ve misheard him. But…he couldn’t have said anything else. He takes my staring as a cue to explain further.

“Well…that sounds bad. You don’t have to have sex with me, especially not right away. And you’re perfectly welcome to pay your half of the rent and completely forget about this. But I like you. And my job is…pretty stressful. So if you would be okay with me relieving that stress with you, I’d be happy to cover the full rent.” He smiles softly and I take a second to process all this. I mean, I did think he was really cute. And definitely my type.

Also, I didn’t have many other options for an apartment. This place was in a good neighbourhood, I had my own bathroom, a nice kitchen, and plenty of natural light. I would be crazy to give that up. And I would be even crazier to give up living rent-free in exchange for having occasional sex with my very hot roommate.

“You know what? Sure. You’ve got a deal, Harrington. Just don’t be a perv.” His laugh is boyish, grinning as he sips his water.

“You’ve got my word.”

So, I moved in a week later. Frankly, it was a great deal. Steve was incredibly sweet and we ended up spending a lot of time together. Which of course, had its perks.

“Holy shit,” I whisper into the hot room, as Steve collapses next to me, panting.

“Holy shit is right. I figured it would take at least another month before we hooked up.” He smiles at me and I can’t help but return it.

“I really thought the only times we would do anything would be whenever you wanna take your stress out on me,” I say as he tugs me close, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“Well, I had to give you a little preview of what you’re signing up for. Would hate to condemn you to mediocre sex.” He chuckles and I smile up at him.

“I don’t think anything about you is mediocre, Steve Harrington.”

After that, he really took advantage of our agreement. He started off slow, wandering hands when I was doing the dishes, gently groping me if I was near, a lewd comment every once in a while. Honestly, I liked it. It made me feel so wanted. I found myself craving every glance, comment, and touch.

When he finally upped the ante, bending me over the counter one night after dinner to fuck me with almost no warning, it was practically a dream come true.

And boy did Steve know it.

“Fucking stupid motherfuckers.” I hear Steve cursing under his breath as he slams the front door behind him. I pause my movie, turning to look at him. He’s toeing his shoes off, furiously tugging at his tie. I know how much he hated the thing. It represented everything he hated while working at his dad’s firm.

“Bad day?” I question, finally gaining his attention. The second his eyes focus on me, they darken.

“Mhm. Very…stressful.” He crosses the room quickly. His hand gently pushes my hair away from my face before gripping it tightly. Steve knows to grab at the base of the hairs, so it doesn’t hurt as much but I still wince.

“I-I can help with that?” I peer up at him and he breaks for a second, smiling fondly.

“You’re such a good girl…turn around?” He grips the fabric of his tie in his hands, making me grin and turn. The second I’m situated, he smacks me with it. It barely stings, but the surprise makes me yelp.

“Be quiet. Don’t wanna hear you.” He grips my wrists in one hand, wrapping his tie around them. This was not a new thing, so I don’t squirm. Steve enjoyed having my hands bound while he used me.

I try not to move as he tugs my pyjama pants down just enough to expose my ass. Luckily for him, it was laundry night so I had forgone panties.

“Such a slut.” He mumbles, ever a fan of degradation. His hand runs over the fat of my ass, squeezing the flesh appreciatively. He pulls away to undo his pants, the metal of his belt buckle clicking as he drops the leather to the floor. A small part of me is disappointed. I’d been hoping he’d spank me at least a few times. It always hurt so well.

I feel the head of his cock line up with my entrance and I bite my lip hard to keep from moaning.

“Fucking hell…” He curses as he starts pushing in. He goes slower than normal, maybe trying to make this last extra long. Steve was always a big fan of spending hours bringing both of us to the edge, just to stop so that we could do it all over again.

“Please…” I whisper before I can think. He stops and I tense, ready for him to spank me hard.

“I told you to be fucking quiet.” Before I can apologize, he slams into me. I gasp, barely able to catch my breath as he starts pounding into me.

“S-such a stupid toy.” He moans softly, nails digging into me. Moans continue to slip out of me as the head of his cock slams into that spot that makes me go crazy. He doesn’t bother reprimanding though, focusing on chasing his release.

“This pussy always feels so fucking good.” He groans. I can feel my orgasm building, the coil tightening with every deep thrust. I know Steve is on the edge, so I have to cum before he does. No way does he spend extra time on me now that I made noise.

“Shit!” He curses and I feel him cum. As his thrusts slow, my orgasm ebbs away. I whine weakly but he just chuckles and pulls out slowly. Cum slowly leaks out of me and runs down my thighs as Steve leans down to whisper in my ear.

“Don’t you know? Toys don’t get to cum.”

hope you enjoyed!!

[kaivenom]

can i request for some more heartbreak high ant fics, the last of it is killing me !!

A little competition

Summary: you get to a new recreatives on town and decide to try every game, apparenty one of the boys in your high school doesn't like someone beating his records.

Pairing: Anthony "Ant" Vaughn

Warnings: none

A/N: here it is, since this precious men has so little content, almost inexistent, i decided to do it myself.

Masterlist

You were new on town and your firsts days on high school weren't the best to make friends so you decided to get ot a new recreatives to try talking to people. You talked to many people and was really fun but the thing you succeded on was to beat game records, especially you beat up "Ant's" records in everygame he was on.

You had such a great time that you decided to go there again the next day. Some people greeted you in, it was great to feel a little included. You went to a new game and saw again, the highest record was "Ant". With a couple of tries, you succeded on surpass him, you couldn't help but imagine how the person would react when seeing the news. You went to grab a snack and talk to some people.

When you came back, you saw a cute guy with a cap and some other guys on the machine you were before, you recognized them from high school.

"Fuck man, i don't know who is this person but it's breaking my records in almost every game, if i catch them i will break some," you hide yourself behind one of the stalls.

"Men, it's not that important, but if you want, we can kick them for breaking your records."

That made you really scared and you had the sensation that every moment they could catch you. You got out of the local without catching their attention but you failed.

"Hi, are you the new girl from school, right?" you try to sound confident at his question.

"Yeah, i am Y/N, you?"

"Ant, you haven't by any chance saw a person on the machines getting really high scores, right?"

"What?, me? ... no. Why would i do that?" your nervousness was revealing you.

"There's no reason to be so nervous, unless..." he made a pause, thinking about it and then his face turned surprised, "You are..."

"i am a pacifist but i heard what you said i won't hesitate to fight." you form a punch and made a feint to prepare to fight.

"What? no. I was angry and with the boys, i don't want to hit someone so pretty."

"Ah , no?"

"I don't plan to do it, do you want me to?"

"No, of course."

"But i am still angry and i want to resolve this because i worked really hard to be that good."

"A competition on a two player game?"

He gave you his hand to shake it, sealing the deal and you both went inside. You decided to fight on a game that both of you weren't really good, to make things interesting. He won the first time, then you, then he two times, then you three... and continued to do so until the recreatives were closing.

"I liked doing this, maybe it's good to have a competitor that it's as good as me." he said with a grin.

"Wait, i winned you more."

"No, i winned more."

"We need to confirm that, here tomorrow, again."

"i am not going to be defeated by you pretty face."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Because you are... well, if you win more tomorrow the i stop calling you pretty face but if i win, then i invite you to dinner." he said, giving you his hand to shake again.

"Okay, i will win but maybe the dinner it's still a good idea, but you pay."

"No, pretty face, if you want me to pay dinner the you have to loose."

You both laughed and went separatedly to your houses but really hoping that tomorrow gets fast to compete again.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

the monster trio (but make it highschool!au);

basically, what if these mf weren't illiterate?? highschool!au headcanons for the monster trio!!

m.list

luffy:

- the class comedian (and doesn't know it) - like this man is out here just going about his day, doing stupid shit. he doesn't know why the class is laughing when the teacher asks him what he's doing and he says "eating. want some?" through a mouthful of doritos and a shit-eating grin - everyday, atleast once, he gets sent to the principle (the principle is garp lmao) and garp sends luffy back to the teacher because even he doesn't wanna deal with this precious himbo

- he runs track (and he is actually so good at it) - he's that one kid that has adhd and the whole school knows but he doesnt "adhd? what's that?" "you, luffy, that's you" - his homework? never complete; his handwriting? so shit it feels like ants crawling on paper; his uniform? something has to be missing always whether it's a button on his shirt, tie, belt, something. - one time he pulled up with one sock missing and when asked, he shrugged and said "sometimes things happen" - why did he say it like that??? - somehow, despite it all, he manages to pass (nami tutored him forcefully and made him pay her later) - best friends with the martial artist!zoro and cooking prodigy!sanji - nobody knows how these three are friends??? but they are ig - also, i headcannon him as the guy who is like 4 feet and after one summer comes back stretched out (hehe, pun intended) - always so kind to others even if he doesn't know them, always willing to help freshmen out and run errands for you if you need help - nobody knew he is related to his older brothers (ace, sabo) "how are you their brother??" "idk? how am i??" - just the bestest boy ever, golden retriever energy all day every day no matter what universe it is

zoro:

- you take one look at this mf and you think, ah here is the classic delinquent, stick-up-his-ass martial artist and you couldnt be more wrong - he is never dressed right but that's cause he doesn't know how to tie a tie and listen if he had the willpower to find the right socks at 7 in the morning, he will - he is just an incompetent fool, trust me 😭😭 - gets late on the regular cause he always takes the wrong turn - the one "jock" who isn't anything like a stereotypical jock? like he hangs out with soon-to-be valedictorian nami, idiot luffy, theatre kid!ussop and cook!sanji - nobody can understand how this friend group was formed??? - actually gets asked out a decent amount of times and always says "nah, im good" and walks away to his friends - people are starting to suspect if he's dating luffy from how hard their bromance is going "zolo!!! gooDMORNING!!" luffy yells as he launches onto zoro in the middle of the hallway at 8:03 am on a random tuesday zoro casually drops his backpack to catch luffy "morning" zoro replies as if it's casual behaviour - the amount of trophies the school has in his name is insane (nation level martial artist, roronoa zoro) - he is actually decent at school, he is just average and he's fine by it he doesn't give all that much of a shit in the academic sphere - casually pulls up to the parents-teacher meet with thE FUCKING WORLD REKNOWNED MARTIAL ARTIST, DRACULE MIHAWK??? "i see he passed in all his exams. how wonderful, zoro. let's leave now." "aight" - he doesn't even think twice when asked if he knows mihawk, he's just like "yeah that's my dad what about him?" - a certified dumbass in every universe

sanji:

- listen to me this mf went to masterchef junior and fucking won and people only know this cause the school hyped him up and not because he wanted people to know "omg sanji did you actually win-" "no that was my twin brother sanjo, please leave me alone" - actually prim and properly dressed, shows up at time everyday and gives in all of his assignments and submissions well before the due date (he is partially responsible for keeping zoro and luffy on track) - he was the one making cupcakes when nami was organizing a fundraiser for a nearby orphanage, he was the one who baked cookies cause sabo wanted to hand them out on his last day of school, he was the one who baked cakes for his classmate's surprise birthday party - rumor has it if you get on good terms with sanji, a mysterious box of homemade chocolate will be there in your locker the next day - despite all the hype he has, mf still gets no girls - like luffy, he is insanely kind to those who need help - has gotten almost suspended once for beating up a senior year kid for bullying a freshmen (luffy and zoro just stood by and laughed as that kid got his ass handed to him) - he is the son of THE FUCKING OWNER OF BARATIE, A FIVE STAR MICHELLIN RESTAURANT THAT IS FREQUENTED BY CELEBRITIES ALL THE TIME "omg omg sanji is it true that the rock visited your restaurant last night?!" "yeah, his daughter wanted to eat my tiramisu, she's really sweet" - so chill always (but simultaneously losing his shit) - the kinda person you'd love hanging out with - as i said, in any universe, he is still single (feed him the rizz rizz fruit pls)

a/n: tried something new tell me do you like it or love it? m.list