#i think that's right anyway? i know it's definitely only going to be available for a limited time

[actual-lea]

Hi there! Is there a link to watch the replay of the hornetversary stream? I wanted to check it out but never saw any posts about where to find it.

I believe the whole thing will be available for the next 7 (?) days here:

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

141 as your drug dealer boyfriend

Ghost- Let's be real with ourselves, Ghost is not a good man. He doesn't care who he hurts, as long as he gets his. He will do anything to get what he wants and there is no stopping him. It's what made him a great soldier, and it's what makes him a great kingpin. He moves weight to put it lightly. There isn't a moment where an uncut key is unmoving; from a warehouse, to a plane (or car, or train), to a distributor, to a pusher, to up someone's nose. He'll try to do some damage control, make sure things aren't cut with fent, but that's only to make sure customers keep coming back. He likes to keep his hands clean, in the sense that he'll never be the one to pull the trigger on anyone that's out of line. Living up to his name, no one knows what he looks like. Hell, a lot of people don't even think he's real.

But when it comes to you, Simon's a different man. No talk about work, just you and him. Other than the multiple hidden guns around the house and Glock he sleeps with, life is normal with you. Holiday homes in the French countryside and Bahamas. Designer everything. Sports cars in all your favorite colors. You want for nothing. It's the life he wanted for you. After all those years of crying and hurt when he was away for weeks or months, you deserved the world. Want the new Hermès bag? You got it. Can't choose between the black or white louboutins? Get both. Stop eating you out because you can't feel your toes anymore? Sorry love, only thing he can't do for you.

Soap- Johnny is a small business owner. Weighs everything out by his own hand. Presses his own pills. Let's you help baggie everything up. A social butterfly, this man is at every concert, rave, or music festival. Sometimes he has a friend help push his stuff when he just wants to stay home with you, but for the most part he's his own salesman. And a damn good one. Never has overstock. No matter how much he brings with him, he'll always sellout.

Has a supernatural sense of being shorted. Can tell if a bag is even a few grams off just by holding it.

"Ye'r an idiot if ye think ye kin short me."

And when the other party denies, he always keeps a pocket scale on him, setting the parcel on it. And sure enough, he's always right.

He'll come home with a few grand, the only job you have is to sit there and look pretty. And roll his spliffs. Sitting in his lap, tucking the rolling paper into itself and licking it closed while he counts out a fat wad of cash. He hands you a fat stack,

"A've never bin good wi' money. Ye know how to spend it better than me."

He never touches the stuff he sells, no need to when all the dopamine he needs is right between your legs.

"Ten times better than any o tha' shite, anyways."

He pants in your ear while folding you in half, firm grip on your throat.

Gaz- When it comes to psychedelics, Kyle is your go-to man. He's a fucking genius, synthesizes his own DMT and LSD in a lab. It's a state of the art facility, clean with the latest and greatest equipment available. He supplies the whole Northeast. If it's a hallucinogen, it's most likely Gaz's product. And if it's good, it's definitely his. He has a cozy set up with some "organization" that he cooks for. Steers clear of actually selling to people, no need to when his clients line his pockets so well. Never brings work home, he even wears different clothes when he's in the lab.

He has a set schedule he has to adhere to but sometimes he's able to take vacations with you. And that's how you ended up bent over a balcony watching the sunset in Punta Cana,

"I work so hard to make you happy, now it's my turn yeah?"

A breeze sends a shiver up your spine while he kisses your shoulder,

"I know a private beach where you can even out those tan lines,"

Of course he doesn't give a shit about that, he just wants to fuck you silly on the seaside (and show off to anyone who might be watching.)

Price- Caring and nurturing, the man naturally has a green thumb. And alongside his prized heirloom tomatoes, he grows really, really good weed. Has a whole growroom in his basement, decked out with proper ventilation, ACs, UV lights, the works. The man grows medical grade weed that private clinics buy from him. He's legit. And of course he serves the public as well under the table, sells only to people he knows and established clients can refer others to him. He treats his plants like his babies, even going as far as to play music for them (according to him classical music helps them grow better???). You don't know where he finds the time, but he also made you rose garden for your anniversary. He brings up the idea of a family every so often. He'll finish as deep inside of you as possible,

"Let's replace that plant nursery for a real one, yeah love?"

Gonna write actual stories for each one if y'all like this ( . * 3 * . )/`

[pseudophan]

PHANNIE COOKBOOK SIGN-UPS!!

Do you have a really good recipe you think Dan and Phil would enjoy? Consider submitting it to this collaborative phannie cookbook that will be given to DnP at a meet & greet! It will also be available to everyone to download as a PDF.

Family recipes or your favourite dish from your country/culture is a bonus, but it doesn’t have to be that personal. All I ask is that you don’t go rip something random off the Internet right now just to be in the book, I want food you genuinely enjoy!

I’ve decided the most efficient way of doing this is to let you submit up to 3 different options, that way if there are any repeats (and I’m certain there will be) I won’t have to message everyone it concerns to ask if you have any alternatives. Besides, that way I can choose which version gets in based on your other options rather than which one “sounds better” to me, cause I think that would be a little unfair. I also have no idea how many people will actually participate in this yet, which is currently the biggest hurdle in terms of planning. If only a few sign up there is a chance we’ll end up using multiple recipes by some, and if somehow we get too many I’ll have to pick and choose. I do really want to include as many people as possible, but until I actually see the recipes it’s hard to tell what will end up happening.

The main focus of this will be actual food, but we obviously need to include a few desserts, so feel free to submit those as well just be aware the chances of those getting picked might be lower. The same goes for soups, I assume a lot of people have soup recipes and we might include a couple, but for obvious reasons it's a low priority.

Some key things to keep in mind:

Phil is a bit picky and has some dietary restrictions! He shouldn’t have dairy or chocolate and he doesn’t like cheese or mushrooms, among other things. That doesn’t mean you have to avoid these things entirely, but maybe your grandma’s mac and cheese recipe isn’t the best choice

While neither of them is vegan they do eat a lot of vegan food, so we definitely need some vegan dishes. I also think it would be really great if you suggested vegetarian and/or vegan substitutions you know work well with your recipe! That isn’t a must for every dish, but it’s a nice addition where possible

Tragically, Dan and Phil are British, meaning they won’t necessarily have access to all the same ingredients as you. Luckily they are also rich and live in a major city with a lot of options so they aren’t limited to what they can find at their local Tesco, but since the aim of this book is to encourage them to cook we probably shouldn’t be sending them on a scavenger hunt either. I don’t think this will be a huge issue, but if your recipe calls for something you think might be very niche or local to you it might be worth googling it or asking around

The final book will be using UK measurements, but if your recipe doesn’t then don’t even worry about it for now. We’ll get to that later. You also don’t have to worry about typing out the whole step-by-step in detail in the sign-up form, I just need a list of the ingredients and roughly how to prepare it to gauge whether it’s a good fit.

I promise I’m almost done yapping but lastly, about some of the questions on the form - you don’t need to know exactly how long the dish takes to prepare, that will depend on the person or people making it anyway, but we do need a rough estimate. The difficulty level is obviously quite subjective, but I just want to hear how you personally would rank it, and if there is a specific part of the process you think someone who doesn’t cook a lot might struggle with. As for the last question about photos, I’m asking both if you have the time and opportunity to make the food and if you are able to take a good photo of it. Obviously it doesn’t have to be anything professional, a phone camera is fine, it just needs to be well lit and decent quality.

Okay, I think that’s everything-

Here's the sign-up form

The deadline is in a week, at midnight Thursday to Friday CET :)

(I also made a blog for this @phookbook for information and updates! A lot of it will probably still be on this blog, but I'll try to post/reblog the most important things on there for those who want to keep up with everything but who may not want to deal with all the chaos of pseudophan)

[judasofsuburbia]

“what? hello?” steve mumbled sleepily into the phone.

“i’m going insane,” eddie nearly shouts.

steve sits up in his bed and scrubs his hand over his face. “woah woah, eds, what’s goin on?”

a high pitched wail is heard in the background and eddie is immediately cooing and shushing. steve presses the phone tighter to his ear.

“eds. eds, can you hear me?”

“i’m going insane i’m going insane i’m going insane,” eddie breathes. “she won’t stop crying steve she’s been crying for two hours—fuck, three hours. i don’t know what to do. i don’t know what to do steve.”

“who’s crying?” steve asks.

“my cousin. or my niece, maybe? i don’t know how it works. my cousin’s baby is here and she won’t stop crying.”

more crying and wailing is heard. steve has to hold the phone away from his ear when eddie gets closer to her. he can hear eddie pleading with her, trying to comfort her, to no avail.

“i need help,” eddie says. “i need help, please.”

“uh, okay. okay,” steve replies as he rolls out of bed and stumbles around his room in the dark to find some pants and shoes. “i can be there in ten.”

“make it five,” eddie nearly whines, anxiety pouring through the receiver.

“got it.”

steve’s tires screech into eddie’s driveway. his trailer is the only one with the lights still on and he could hear the baby crying from outside. he’s surprised no one has called to complain to the police station. though he’s sure callahan or hopper would simply hang up.

steve barrels up the steps and opens the door to utter chaos. toys and books scatter the ground, there are blankets and bottles strewn over surfaces (some definitely knocked over and spilling onto the floor), and baby clothes and diapers in the leftover spaces. and of course, a screaming infant.

eddie pops out of his room with said infant trashing in his arms. eddie has tears streaming down his fact too and steve’s heart just cracks.

“help me,” eddie mouths.

“uh, okay, okay,” steve is wracking his brain for any tips he learned in home economics about taking care of a baby. “what have you tried? i presume she’s in a clean diaper and…” god it was hard to think with the noise screeching in his ears. “fed her?” steve asks louder.

“yes fuck, i keep changing her and trying to feed her. i read her stories and rocked her and tried to put her in her crib. she’s so upset i don’t know why,” eddie’s voice cracks on the last word and suddenly, steve’s across the room. ready to comfort him.

“give her here,” steve says.

eddie’s eyes are panicky and wide but eventually, he hands steve the child. she continues to cry and thrash in steve’s arms so it takes a second for him to hold her properly.

“what’s her name?” steve asks.

“cheyenne” eddie responds, arms wrapped around himself like a hug. his whole body is bouncing and steve feels the urge to reach out and bring him in too but the more pressing matter is currently occupying those arms.

“hi cheyenne,” steve says gently. “seems like you’re mighty upset.”

she yanks at steve’s shirt with her little baby fists, definitely grabbing some chest hair underneath and ripping it. steve winces but recovers quickly.

“would your neighbors kill me if i take her outside?”

“probably,” eddie mutters.

“i’m going to anyway.”

steve heads for the front door and eddie goes to follow him but steve holds out a patient hand. “stay here, take a breath,” steve instructs.

eddie’s eyes well up with more tears. “but what if something—“

“then we’ll do something. right now, being around her isn’t good for you. let me take a crack at this, alright?”

eddie nods solemnly and backs away so steve can open the door.

cheyenne’s cries echo out into the night sky as steve starts to pace around the porch. steve starts to feel a little scared being alone with her but he’s more scared of what the stress has done to eddie.

so he decides to do it scared.

the baby starts to have this hiccuping breaths that pull steve out of his thought spiral. steve shushes her and props her up so her head is on his shoulder. he rubs her back with his hand, which takes up her entire back, and tries to stay calm when her cries are right next to his ear.

“you like music? 'course you do, everyone does.i don’t know how many lullabies eddie knows. his taste is a little more intense,” steve says conversationally as he continues to pace. “i don’t even think i know any lullabies. um…”

cheyenne cries with new fervor right into his neck and steve just panic sings the first song that comes to mind, “shake it up is all we know. using bodies up as we go. i’m waking up a fantasy. the shades are all the colors we used to see.”

cheyenne’s cries go down a peg, still loud but less wailing and more whimpering. steve’s heart is racing as he slowly continues the song.

“broken ice still melts in the sun. and ties that are broken can be one again. we’re soul alone and soul really matters to me.”

cheyenne keeps crying but it's getting softer by the second. steve rearranges her so she's cradled in his arms. he's blown away by how small she is. how helpless. everything must be so scary for her.

“i'm out of touch,” steve sings softly. “you're out of time. but i'm out of my head when you're not around. oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh.“

cheyenne's eyes open up and they're this big beautiful brown, just like eddie's. his breath is taken away as he keeps singing weakly. he doesn't even realize that she stops crying entirely and is just blinking at him, dazed.

it takes eddie slowly opening the front door for him to recognize the silence. he sits on the couch and bounces her gently in his arms, still humming and singing the occasional "oh's". eddie very slowly and quietly sits beside him.

steve looks up at eddie who is staring at him in awe. the same beautiful brown eyes are puffy and swollen, just like cheyenne's.

“c'mon eds, sing it with me,” steve jokes quietly.

eddie shakes his head. “i can't believe she's a hall and oates fan.”

“everyone is,” steve says simply and sings, “i'm out of touch.” he gestures to eddie to continue.

“i'm out of time,” eddie sings, looking incredibly pained to do so.

“but i'm out of my head,” steve leans his ear to the side.

“when you're not around,” eddie says flat, voice raspy from his exhaustion. it makes steve's stomach flip so he returns his attention to the near asleep girl in his arms.

they keep humming until she's fully asleep. steve leans back into the couch with a long exhale, his shoulders rubbing up against eddie's.

“you're magical,” eddie whispers.

“please,” steve scoffs.

“i'm serious,” eddie replies. steve turns his head to face him and nearly chokes from how close their faces are.

”i don't know how you do it,“ eddie mumbles.

”do what?“

”make everyone around you so calm. i feel like all i can do is make everyone stressed out,” eddie laughs weakly.

steve shakes his head. ”not true. just ask buckley, i stress her out on a daily basis.“

eddie chuckles and sniffles. steve sees his lips stretch over his teeth in a smile.

”thank you for coming over. i didn't know who else to call.“

”how did you end up with your baby cousin anyway?“ steve asks.

eddie sighs, tilting his head back into the cushion. if he leaned his head closer, he'd be on steve's shoulder. steve wishes he would.

”her mom is taking a much needed vacation and i promised wayne that he didn't need to take time off work to take care of her. that was a huge mistake.“

”you did your best,“ steve argues quietly.

”maybe but it wasn't enough.“

”hey, c'mon. don't beat yourself up. you did what you could and found help when you couldn't. it's not your fault this is her only form of communication.“

eddie smiles again and yawns. ”you wouldn't happen to have this album on cassette would you?“

steve beams at him. ”in my car, actually.“

”i'm getting it.“

they put cheyenne to bed with the big bam boom album playing softly on eddie's stereo. they stare at her peaceful form snoozing away and seem to forget how she looked not even a half hour ago.

”you should get some sleep,” steve whispers, nudging eddie with his shoulder.

“you're right, you're right,” eddie sighs. he gestures that he's gonna walk steve to the door. steve grabs his keys and turns before opening the door.

“thank you again,” eddie whispers.

“anytime. hall and oates always heals,” steve smiles.

eddie rolls his eyes fondly and shoves steve's shoulder. only, his hand doesn't move away. it splays out over steve's beating heart which is rapidly picking up speed. eddie's eyes slowly drift up to catch steve's.

“i was listening to that song yesterday,” steve whispers. “over and over and over again.”

“you must really like it,“ eddie says, a little confused.

”no. i mean, i do but…“ steve whispers. ”i was listening to it because... i start to go a little insane when i'm not around you.“

eddie's brows furrow. ”w-what do you mean?“

”can't keep you out of here,“ steve explains, tapping his temple. ”i don't know what to do. this is where i need help, eds.”

eddie's lips part in a silent gasp. he takes a step closer and rubs his thumb over steve's shirt. steve's hand comes up and covers his.

“i can help,” eddie whispers, tilting his head up so their noses brush.

that's how steve and eddie share their first kiss in eddie's living room, sleep deprived and unhurried. just four lips gently sliding over one another.

when they pull away with tired smiles, eddie murmurs, “in case she wakes up, you should probably sleep over.”

(inspired by @gothbat99 's wonderful steve harrington playlist)

[thethingswedotomorrow]

I love the Good Omens 'Night at Crowley's Flat' trope where after stopping the apocalypse in season 1, they go to Crowley's Flat and talk and kiss and fall in love and have a peaceful night, I do.

BUT

What if the night became 'The Night an Angel and a Demon Get Insanely Drunk and Teach Each Other How to Act'

Because honestly

They go to the flat, and ALL they know is they are going to have to swap themselves if they want to survive and finally be free from Heaven and Hell

But they have absolutely NO clue how to pull it off successfully

Sure, they know each other in and out.

Aziraphale has Crowley's eye color committed to memory (and also to paper, since Aziraphale spent 4-5 years in the late 80s trying to find a craft store in London that could help him do the color justice)

Crowley could find his angel in a crowd of millions (and not even just because only one single person in that crowd would be dressed in that ridiculous shade of tartan)

BUT they know they have to truly get this right, down to the exact detail.

So, naturally, they start by promptly opening the closest bottle of scotch that Crowley had available

Crowley was convinced this would be the easiest thing they've ever done

"Only you, Angel, would find a way to worry yourself to death AFTER stopping an apocalypse"

They begin with the easy part, switching corporations and clothing.

It was easy. Until Aziraphale realized he had to actually physically move in the very, very tight pants Crowley prefers.

The first three times he tries walking, he falls face down. And each time, realizes how it's equally hard to get back up again.

Not to mention that Crowley's corporation had learned that after 6000 years, it didn't really need all those vertebrae and bones since he never used them anyways

So now Aziraphale is just laying on the floor in terribly tight pants, very confused on how Crowley has managed all this time

(Crowley is also on the floor, having dropped there laughing after the 2nd attempt)

After they both get up (one much faster than the other) Crowley tries coaching the angel on how to walk like him

Until Crowley realizes he doesn't actually know how he walks, he just sort of wills himself forward and hopes his limbs keep up with him along the way

Eventually, after enough drinks, they settle on a technique called "Just pretend all your limbs are snakes. And you're a snake. Honestly, just as snake-y as you can manage, Angel."

Aziraphale, as difficult as this was for him, figures out that he may have gotten the easy side of this situation here. Crowley very much disagrees.

"Once an Angel, well, definitely not always an Angel, but close enough right?"

He very quickly realizes he may be wrong when Aziraphale asks Crowley to copy his walk

"Dear Lord Crowley, it cannot be that hard. You simply have to walk in a straight line"

It was indeed that hard.

Crowley has all his vertebrae now, but no knowledge of how they should be used

He tries to hold his hands behind his back and march forward, walking in what he thinks is probably, on some plane of reality, maybe a straight line

He's convinced that he's the perfect image of a stereotypical angel, head held high, an air of 'holier than thou' surrounding him

When Crowley asks Aziraphale, he only says, "Well, I suppose it will have to do for now."

Internally, Aziraphale thinks of the fact that Crowley looked identical to a bumbling penguin walking on ice.

When Crowly sits down, very pleased with himself for an impeccable performance ("As always, Angel. I've still got it." Aziraphale uncaps the vodka and drinks straight from the bottle, just staring into the distance.

He has just realized that their existence hinges on whether Crowley can figure out how to sit on a chair like a proper being with appendages and a spine.

And the odds are not in their favor, if they way the demon is sprawled out on the couch (reminding Aziraphale suddenly of a very well-done noodle, and suddenly he's starting to wonder if humans had the right idea with stress eating) is any indication

Crowley announces that he refuses to utter the words tickety boo, even if faced with destruction

"Honestly I think I'd rather have the holy water at that point" "Crowley." "I swear you just make sounds up sometimes, those aren't even real words"

4 bottles (and a very large order of takeout) later, they've got the act down well enough that it's starting to weird Crowley out

"Angel, seriously, enough with the nose. When have I ever done that with my nose? Exactly zero amount of times. I'm not a rabbit"

2 bottles later and Aziraphale has miracled Harry the Rabbit into the flat for a reason they can't quite remember

But they've got music playing from somewhere in the corner, and plenty of drinks, and the night goes on into the morning, and then they're sobering up and marching out for the most dramatic acting of their lives

And the world hasn't ended yet, so they'll probably be fine. Probably.

[the-clumsywitchtarot]

What is Your Future Husband's Type?

Because he's going to marry you anyway, so why not know, right?

Cards

4 of Wands

Queen of Cups

The Sun

8 of Swords

Your future husband doesn't really have a type in terms of looks he is truly someone that is attracted to a person for who they are. I feel like this man is looking for a wife that is emotionally available, childlike (but not immature), and has eyes only for them. And also ready for marriage like yesterday! I feel like this is a man that has had relationships with women in the past that resulted in the women cheating on him and some relationships where the women just weren't all in. I feel like when this man gets into a relationship he is all about the person he is with and he is looking for a woman that is the same way. He is tired of being with women that do not share the same intensity of feelings that he has in a relationship. He really just wants a woman that's all about him that he can be all about.

Cards

The Hermit (Reversed)

8 of Pentacles

9 of Wands (Reversed)

King of Cups (Reversed)

I feel like this man is a player and prefers women that are the life of the party and only looking for short term relationships and one night stands at the moment. This is going to sound toxic but I feel like he actually likes women that are struggling with emotional difficulties, like dealing with a breakup. Anything that would keep the woman from becoming too attached to him. Or women that are super into their careers that really don't have time for a relationship, the song "Top of the World" by The Pussycat Dolls comes to mind when I think of his type. I feel like he's also used to dating model-esque women. Obviously this is his current type and it can definitely change as he matures.

Cards

King of Pentacles (Reversed)

5 of Swords

7 of Cups

Knight of Swords

I feel like this man is looking for a woman that is very confident in who she is and knows her worth. Someone that is willing to stand up for herself but still in her receptive feminine energy. I feel like he also wants a woman that looks like what is traditionally thought of as feminine when it comes to the way she dresses and behaves. Ariana Grande's look in wicked comes to mind, essentially he wants someone girly. But he doesn't want an airhead, I feel like he's had his fair share of those. He wants a (mostly) traditional woman, someone that wouldn't mind being a housewife but not someone that is docile. He still wants an opinionated woman but not an aggressively opinionated woman. He also wants someone that can read him and know exactly what he needs at any given moment.

I hope you enjoyed this reading, please let me know what you think of it in the comments! 🩷

- Erika, The Clumsy Witch

[moonastro]

your future career

pick a picture

left to right(top)-> 1,2,3

°DO NOT take this as literal, take everything with a grain of salt as this is purely and intendedly for entertainment purposes.

°Don't be afraid to give feedback and opinions about this post (as i would entirely appreciate it).

° This is a GENERAL reading, take what resonates and leave and pass on what does not!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

pile one: I'm seeing connections related to your career. what i mean about that is that you will have close relationships with very high status people that will help you along with your journey. I'm getting the vibes of when you ask someone about a goal of yours and they tell you that they know someone that can help you with your goal. It feels very prosperous and fortunate.

A career that you worked very hard for and stayed consistent in. like I'm feeling you studied, research and looked at every aspect of the career. Very knowledgeable about what you know. I also feel that you knew what you wanted to do from a very early age and it might have been your dream/goal to pursue that path. And to say the least, you will!! This is the literal definition of aiming high and achieving it. Sidenote- this career will be very unexpected for people when you tell them your status. You probably worked quietly and that's what got you to success.

This is also a career that may consist of you being very independent and thinking for yourself. This will enable you to help your family here also. I see you being the first in your family to achieve something very big and successful. This will allow you to take care of your family and help them out financially and giving them what they deserve for all the hardships that they supported you through.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

pile two: You may be unsure of what you are truly wanting as a career. you may be overthinking or just taking some time off and planning what might be suitable for you. (take this lightly please).

Anyway, i see money coming from overseas, very much investing and saving vibes. You take risks with this career, and take opportunities that are available. You also give a lot so this convinces me that it is investing. You reach for the impossible and you keep moving. some moves that are risky and out of context will also be a theme here, so the job may require toughness and risk overall.

there is a lot of consciousness about your surroundings. there is an instant reflex that you have when it comes to making quick and instant decisions. that actually may be your specialty. people come to you to get opinions and kind of like permission?? this convinces me that it may be a boss career OR a leading position that you take care of.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

pile three: Wowww. This career will be full of success and alignments. you will be very liked in your space and it will truly feel so destined that you will stay at the job for a very long time. you will go through lots and lots of other jobs before finally settling to the one. It may feel like you are very un grounded but trust everything, do not doubt your journey!!!

Somehow i feel like this career will be a luck thing. like i see you getting offered something and you accepting or you going out of your comfort zone only to get the best results from it. This job is somewhat of a surprise to you but you will be good at whatever you do.

I feel like the career will consist of lots of speaking and thinking. Very much office vibes (not saying it is). It will allow you to stand your ground and be able to express your opinions freely. I also think that you will become more confident with this career. like it will definitely change you for the better. Also, there will also be lots of connections like pile one, but for this pile it is more like unprofessional, unlike pile one it is very structured and professional connections. like it is more of you will meet lots of new peers and generally know lots of people by just being friendly.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

that's all for this post! thanks for reading, it is most appreciated💗🤍

[blackynsupremacy]

NEIGHBORHOOD

HOTTIE

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

cw: fluff and smut (18+ mdni)

hotneighbor!nicholas that just moved in next door to you. you heard from your neighborhood girlfriends that he was living alone, single, and utterly fuckable.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you curiously watch through the blinds of your window to see what the hype is all about. it’s definitely all true: your new neighbor was foine.

hotneighbor!nicholas whose muscles would flex as you observe him lugging the largest boxes of things he needed to unpack in such scorching weather. your thighs clench at the sight of the veins protruding on his arms. you didn’t miss the stains of perspiration forming on his pristine white tank top that outlined the toned muscles of his abdomen.

hotneighbor!nicholas who would stop whatever he’s doing when he sees you coming by with two glasses of homemade lemonade. he could use a break. plus, he thought you were a sight for sore eyes with that orange sundress, glowing melanated skin, healthy natural hair, and full glossed lips. you lived right next door, so it was only fair for him to take up your welcoming offer.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you find to be so charming. he loves the lemonade and your company. you both exchange basic information about yourselves, but he doesn’t miss the opportunity to throw some game. “if i’d known my neighbor would’ve been so beautiful, i would’ve moved a lot sooner.” he finds it cute at how bashful you get when he compliments you.

hotneighbor!nicholas who obviously asks for your number for “neighborly” reasons. you happily give it to him because it’s not everyday someone this hot was putting the moves on you like this.

hotneighbor!nicholas who subtly watches the rhythm of your hips sway beneath that sundress after you bid him a farewell, so he could continue unpacking. he wanted to talk to you longer. he wasn’t sure how, but he wants to get close to you as possible, as soon as possible. if you catch my drift.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d send you good morning and good night texts or he’d just simply check on you. you’d tease that it should be the other way around because he’s the new neighbor and you should be the one making him feel welcome. he’d be such a flirt. you can make me feel welcome in many other ways. 😉

hotneighbor!nicholas who you see taking daily jogs through the neighborhood early in the morning when you go out to get your mail. he wears nothing, but basketball shorts, a cross necklace, and some sneakers. you melt as the sweat of body leaves a heavenly shine on his tanned skin. he’s so built, so fit, so thick. god, the things you’d do to have him on top of you right now.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d ask if you like to take a jog/walk with him whenever you were available. you weren’t the exercising type, but there was no harm in it because you wanted to spend time with him anyway, so why the hell not? on those occasions, you’d get to know each other better. you’d wear a sports bra and shorts that nicholas would find to be ravishing on you, but he’d think you’ll look better without them.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d help you out with various tasks like gardening. he had a green thumb, so he was a huge help to you when you wanted to plant some fresh strawberries. you love to watch him till, dig, sow seeds, and water the fruit, so it would grow to be the reddest, ripest strawberries for picking, washing, and eating.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you invite over to your house to make treats such as strawberry shortcakes or just to dip them in chocolate sauce while streaming a show on hulu or netflix. he’d use his thumb to swipe away any whipped cream or chocolate from the corner of your lip then suck it right off in front of you while holding his intense brown gaze with yours.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d watch you from his bedroom window as you’d strip your clothes before going into the bathroom to shower. he couldn’t see your actual naked body, but he’d see the shadow of your nude silhouette outlining the shape of your breasts, the erected point of your nipples, and the curve of your hips and ass. it gets him rock hard every time and he’d have to take care of it himself.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you watch practice throwing a football in his backyard shirtless. his arms are massive. you imagine what it would feel like having them secured around your waist. he could’ve went to the pros, no question, but you’re lucky that you get to see this up close and personal instead of a loud, crowded stadium.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you go to for help when your car wouldn’t start. you didn’t mean to interrupt him as he was looking like a greek god while bench pressing what seemed to be a weight of 150-60 lbs. he doesn’t mind helping you because he knows the basics, so he comes over promptly with some tools to see what’s under the hood. you spectate as he meticulously rummages and moves within the car.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’s so focused in finding the root of the issue. his brows are furrowed and he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth while his hands move like clockwork. you notice a piece of hair fall from in front of his face and he attempts to blow it out the way, but to no avail. you take it upon yourself to brush it back. he feels the lingering touch of your palm through his scalp, his mind already going to the gutter.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d ask for you to get your car keys after he’d find the solution and close the hood. he instructs you to get in the car and start it now. once you comply, the engine is purring like normal. feeling grateful, you sing your praises to him. “let’s see you have a green thumb and you’re a skilled mechanic. is there anything else your hands are good for?” you ask, crossing your arms. he’d give you a playful lopsided smirk with a flirtatious glint within his eyes, “they could do a couple things—that’s if you’re willing to find out.” he knew exactly what he was doing.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you invite over for dinner to repay him for fixing your car. you weren’t sure if you’d see this as a date, but you still wanted to make a good impression. you do your hygiene and you’d put on a black square necked top with a long black, floral slitted skirt around your waist. you prepare a spread of your speciality dishes and bring out your best wine.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’s a gentleman that shows up at your front door with flowers. he cleans up nice with a black button up that’s slightly unbuttoned to show off his signature gold cross necklace with some levi’s, dress shoes, and a rolli on his wrist. damn! you graciously take the flowers and giving him a brief hug. it was short-lived, but inhaling his clean, musky scent while he places his large palm against the slightly exposed small of your back had you feening.

hotneighbor!nicholas that enjoys every single thing that you’ve cooked for him. he’s so content in the meal, he informs you that when he settles down he hopes to have a wife that looks and cooks just as good as you. hopefully, you were picking up what he was putting down.

hotneighbor!nicholas who genuinely enjoys your company, your smile, your laughter, your humility, your confidence, your wit, your intelligence, your humor, your insight, your passion, your kindness, your empathy, your honesty, and your absolute everything.

hotneighbor!nicholas who tells you he’s now craving for dessert. oblivious to what he actually meant, you tell him there’s some leftover strawberries and chocolate sauce in the fridge, so you go to retrieve the items and go to prepare them on the counter with your back turned to him.

hotneighbor!nicholas who gets up from his seat at the table and saunters over to you to slide his large hands around your waist. a smirk rises on his lips as soon as you freeze from his touch. he bring his lips against your ear to whisper, “i’m craving something sweeter than that, doll.” he’d pull you in closer, so that the plushness of your ass would meet his hardened arousal.

hotneighbor!nicholas who peppers fiery kisses all around your neck. when you whimper out his name, it drives him to push aside whatever was in front of you on the counter. he turns your body to face him completely before hoisting you up on top, so that his lips could finally be attached to yours in a fervent kiss. your arms instantly wrap your his broad shoulders as he brings your legs around his hips while your tongues desperately swirl around another. you both had been waiting for this moment for weeks on end.

hotneighbor!nicholas who slides between the slit of your skirt to spread your thighs wider, so that he could rut his hips up against yours like an animal in heat. “you see what you fuckin’ do to me?” he rasped whenever his growing, stiff girth came in contact with your already damp center.

hotneighbor!nicholas who easily slips his hands beneath your skirt. his fingertips fidgeting with the waistband of your panties. he wants to dive straight in, but he won’t go further unless you verbally give him the green light. to him, you may be this sexy piece of ass that deserves some good dick thrown your way, but also you’re worthy of respect towards your boundaries in your house. he’s just being a good neighbor.

hotneighbor!nicholas who once he has your consent, deliberately slides your soaking underwear off for his thumb to instantly reward your clit with pressured circles. he chuckles as you beg him to delve his fingers inside of you. “damn, have a little patience, baby. m’gonna take care of you.”

hotneighbor!nicholas who wastes no time to slip his index inside just to stretch you out a little before his middle joins in the party. his thumb is still doing circles around your clit as his fingers curl and bump against the gushiness of your wet walls. with each moan of his name escaping your mouth, he gains in speed.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’s a bonafide munch. he takes his fingers away and kneels down with his head right in front of your awaiting, wet pussy. he demands that you look at him as his tongue takes a deliberate lick against your dripping slit. your hands grasp onto his head for dear life as he makes out with your pussy. his tongue may move in varying speeds and shapes around your clit. it drives you crazy when he hums while shaking his head side to side rapidly to go as deep as possible while he gets you to your high. “ah, fuck, this pussy is the best thing that’s ever happend to me—want you to cum all over my face, baby. c’mon, give it to me.”

hotneighbor!nicholas who continues to remove the rest of your clothes until you’re completely bare. he stares, mesmerized because you’re more beautiful than he could ever imagine. you reciprocate the praise after you help him out of his clothes. he finds it so sexy of how crazy you are for him. you even make the man flush with red.

hotneighbor!nicholas who already has a condom ready, but you’re on the pill and you want to feel all of him, so you let him know he’s good to go.

hotneighbor!nicholas who shudders in ecstasy as he fills you up inch by inch until his tip mingled with the edge of your cervix. he gives you a moment to properly adjust to his size before he begins to give you the immaculate strokes of his skilled hips.

hotneighbor!nicholas who has the stamina of a sexually starved madman as you go for many rounds in different parts of your house. the counter, sofa, your bed, and lastly the shower. he takes you in different positions and angles that no man has ever done with you before and he’s made you cum first each time. he could go all night, but he sees that from being so fucked out and overstimulated, he decided it was time for some proper aftercare and a goodnight’s sleep in the nude. he was by far, the best fuck you’ve ever had. what are good neighbors for?

[suzukiblu]

Day eight of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems that causes for someone who was in that situation and hasn't processed it trying to have a relationship with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Okay,” he says, more than a little relieved. “Um–okay. Cool. Sorry.” 

“You’re sorry?” Kon snorts, still smiling a little helplessly. “I’m the one who was bein’, like, pushy or whatever. I didn’t, uh–I didn’t think you’d never, you know . . .”

“Um, yeah, just . . . haven’t gotten there yet, I guess?” Tim says, boiling gently in mortification. God he must sound so lame to Kon, he–okay, no, he really needs to not think that kind of thing anymore, because if he does sound “lame” to Kon for still being a virgin, that’s not necessarily actually Kon’s opinion. Just–depending on what he . . . got taught, exactly . . . 

Tim really needs to get ahold of Kon’s dating history and just do some light investigation. 

And interrogation. 

. . . that might need to wait for the supervillainy, Tim recognizes. Like. That might need to be a thing. 

It’d just be easier if maybe mid-level interrogation was available as a fallback option, that’s all. By which he means, it’d be much, much easier to stand the process of listening through whatever, exactly, he’d have stepped up to “mid-level” over. Anyway, for mid-level he really only needs a taser or two and a few– 

“Um–is it still okay to, uh–kiss you, then? Or is that, um . . . too fast,” Kon asks, biting his lip a little as he glances down at their hands, which Tim has been ridiculous enough to forget to let go of. He assumes he was thinking about something before Kon asked him that question, but it has immediately ceased to have any relevance whatsoever to this situation. Just–all of it. Gone. Out the window. 

Bye-bye. 

“That is exactly my speed limit right now, actually,” he says, sparing Kon a wry quirk of his mouth. Kon laughs, which is a relief, and doesn’t look–his face is still flushed, but he doesn’t look as embarrassed or anxious, or like he’s looking for an out on the conversation and situation and date and entire everything about Tim Drake, so . . . 

“Oh, we real religious about our speed limits in Gotham, then?” Kon teases with a little grin, and Tim leans in and kisses him. Just–Kon had sounded so self-conscious, when he’d mentioned always being the one to make the first move, and while admittedly Kon asking about kissing being immediately followed by Tim kissing him is not exactly the ideal start to being more physically proactive, well . . . it’s a start, at least. 

Either way Kon melts right down into him and kisses him back, so Tim definitely isn’t regretting the decision. 

Just–opposite of regretting, yeah. 

Tim squeezes Kon's hands in his own and Kon's TTK squeezes him in response, which is–kinda weirdly, more a relief than anything else right now. Kon wasn't using his TTK when he was following the over-rehearsed script in his head. He was embarrassed, when he let his TTK slip earlier. Apologized for it, even. 

So–yeah, it's a relief to feel him doing it right now.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Swirlypod

Debut: Super Mario Bros. Wonder

YIPPEE YAHOO! A brand swirlin' new snail fresh for 2023! It has been quite a long time now since we've gotten a new Mario snail, and even since I've posted about one, since I covered all the snailiest Mario snails a while ago. But lookie here! Snaily snaily snail for me to see and for you to view!

Swirlypod is so delightful! To get this out of the way first, yes, its eyes are not on the ends of stalks. Yes, this is good and okay. Some snails are like that! Especially freshwater snails. And that's the kind of snail that this snail seems to be! While sometimes seen on land, it is also seen emerging from (poisonous) swamps. It can breathe that!

Swirlypod's face is just so, so precious. Its big, innocent, curious eyes experiencing the world in the way only a snail could! Its big ol' bulbous antennae, more bulbous than they have any right being, more like a nudibranch's than a normal snail's! And its mouth! I think that's its mouth? It's like three scrumbly tentacles ready to scrumble down some delicious fungus!

Did you know that the salt marsh snail Littoraria irrorata is able to FARM fungus? They damage marsh grasses to create large wounds for fungus to grow in, and even use their own poop as fertilizer! Snails can FARM!

Yes, indeed, what a wonderful snail we have here! Thank you, Super Mario Bros. Wonder!

...Hey! That shell comes right off! Now it's all Pod, with no Swirly! Does this mean Lime is The Impostor? I may have just asked you, but that was rhetorical. Don't ask me, because I don't know! Removable shells are a common ability for cartoon snails, and of course, the turtles of this world also have removable shells. I think it doesn't really mean much at all! Though, the idea of a "hermit slug" is very amusing. A snail who can't be bothered to grow its own shell. Maybe it wants to switch shells for different styles sometimes. A slow victim of fast fashion!

Wonder is one of those games where Koopa Troopas retreat into their shells when stomped, so Swirlypod is sort of a way to have Beach Koopa in the same game as the more standardly-behaving Koopa! Once it gets back on its foot, it will try to squirm back into a shell, if one is available. You can give it back! Just drop it down at your feet, and Swirlypod will have a home once more!

Another thing that sets Swirlypods apart from Koopas is that they are sticky slimy and can slither up and down vertical surfaces! Just like in real life! They don't only climb on the left and right sides of surfaces, either. They can even go on the surface facing the screen! Not just anyone is allowed to do that!

I am saving what may be the best tidbit for last! There is a good chance Swirlypod's bulbous antennae look familiar to you. That's because they look just like Leucochloridium paradoxum, the green-banded broodsac, everyone's favorite snail parasite! The flatworm that inhabits a snail's eyestalks, making them look more like caterpillars to get a bird to eat them so they can continue their life cycle! Swirlypod definitely isn't supposed to be like, ACTUALLY infected by this funny worm, but I think the resemblance is very much intentional, between the shape and coloring. And that is so awesome to see! This isn't even meant to be a scary snail or anything, but they represented a freaky parasite anyway!

[monzabee]

the name game – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you and Charles try to get through one of the first hardships of parenthood.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: pregnancy (and pregnancy symptoms), crying, angst but also tooth rotting fluff

Request: “Can I request Charles and his girlfriend or fiancé having a baby? And they are talking about names and she suggest her ex boyfriends name to piss him off and he gets really upset and mad. And they then tlak about last names and she tells him she wants their baby to have her name and he is not happy about that or hyphenating as he feels strongly about his family name” 

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’m so happy to be back after a month of exams, and what better way to kick it off with a charles fic?? the whole concept was extremely cute and i loved it so much, but i kind of wanted there to be a chaotic aspect to it?? thank you anon for your request, and i hope you guys enjoy this one! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Some people keep saying that the hardest part of pregnancy is the first trimester, some say that the hardest part is actually giving birth because, well – it’s quite literally pushing a baby from right there. But to you, the hardest part is not the nausea, or the possible pain of giving birth, or the sleepless nights to come, no. To you, the hardest part is deciding on what to name your baby. Everyone around you seems to have an opinion on what to name the baby, of course, and with the increasing amount of (sometimes uncalled) suggestions coming from you from all around, you and Charles find yourselves in the middle of a never ending game of name the baby.

“Alfred?” Charles suggests, raising his head from his phone.

The suggestion gets a groan, you shake your head to let him know that it’s definitely not the name. “Excuse me, are we about to raise Batman’s butler?”

“Good point,” he nods his head, “we are Marvel people anyway.”

“You guys are useless at this, you know that right?” Arthur scoffs, raising an eyebrow at the two of you. “Why don’t you wait until the baby is actually born? Many people say that it’s easier to name a baby that way.”

“And how do you know these people?” Charles asks, eyes narrowing at the edges.

Arthur raises his hands on the either side of his face in mock surrender. “Touché.” He takes a moment to think, “Why do you only looking at boy’s names? I thought you didn’t want to learn the gender until the birth.”

“We don’t,” you affirm, slowly perching yourself on the barstool next to Charles, “Charles just thinks that it’s going to be a boy.”

Arthur watches as his older brother nods while smiling proudly, then shares a look with you which screams, He knows there’s a fifty-percent chance, right? You shake your head as you shrug, turning your attention back to your phone. “Oh, oh! What about Luka?”

“Luka,” Charles repeats, and tests the name coming out of his lips, “Luka Leclerc?” His watches as you give him a bright smile as you nod repeatedly.

“It does have a nice ring to it,” Arthur comments from his place on the couch as he abandons the book filled with baby names in his hands.

“Luka.” Charles repeats the name again, but as he looks into your expectant eyes, he can feel a nudging at the back of his mind. Luka, Luka, Luka – has he met someone with the same name before? Well, probably, he thinks. He does meet a lot of people during his day to day life, not to mention the race weekends. He decides to let go of the worry, establishing in his mind that he probably met a fan with the same name– “No, chérie! We can’t use Luka!”

“What?” You ask him with a small pout on your lips, “Why not?”

“You dated a guy named Luka, remember?” He reminds you, expecting you to catch onto what he’s saying. “Chérie, it was right before we dated!” You look at him in confusion as you try to piece what he’s saying together, but Charles just looks at you in disbelief, “I can’t believe you want to name our baby after a guy you dated!”

“But–” You start, eyebrows furrowing together as you try and make yourself remember. “That can’t be true.”

“I’m telling you,” Charles turns to Arthur, raises his eyebrows as he looks at his brother for support, “Arthur tell her that I’m correct.”

Arthur chooses to throw him the pillow he takes from behind him. “How should I know the guy she dated before you, you idiot?”

“Would it kill you to be on my side for a change?” Charles deadpans.

You tune out the rest of their argument, still trying to remember whether Charles is actually correct or not – the pregnancy hormones definitely not helping you on your case. “Wait!” You exclaim, making both of the brothers to turn towards you. “I never dated a guy named Luka,” you raise a finger towards Charles to shut him up before he even gets a chance to speak, “let me rephrase that. I never dated a guy named Luka, because the last guy I went on a date with before we got together was Lucas.”

Charles’ voice is tentative as he asks “Lucas?”

“Yes, you idiot.” You roll your eyes at him, “Why would I try to name our baby after a guy I went on one date with?”

Arthur nods in support of you, “You have to admit you overreacted, Charles.”

“Okay, you? You zip it.” Charles snaps at his brother and then turns to you. “I’m sorry, chérie, but I thought it was Luka.”

“Well it wasn’t,” you cross your arms over your chest, “and don’t tell your brother to zip it, he’s right!” You let out a chuckle as you share a look with Arthur as Charles watches the both of you let out chuckles at his expense.

He lets his eyes narrow and he silently watches as the two of you make fun of him for his outburst. He only talks when your laughter is dying down, “Are you guys done?”

“Oh come on, darling, it was cute.” You lean towards him to link your fingers between his.

He raises one of his eyebrows as he asks, “So you wouldn’t react the same way if I just did that?”

“Oh, Charles, don’t–” Arthur warns him, but you quickly stop him.

“No, no,” you bite back a smile, “continue, my love.”

“As I was saying,” Charles gives his brother a pointed look and then turns his attention back to you, “you wouldn’t react the same way if I wanted to name our future child ‘Charlotte’?”

“Excuse me?” You stutter, frowning as your expression turns into a pout. You wait for a moment for Charles to realise what he’s just said, but when he fails to do so, you prompt him by asking, “How is that similar to what just happened? And why would you bring her into this in the first place?”

Charles shakes his head in disbelief, “How is it not?”

Arthur gets up from his place on the couch and pretends to yawn as he stretches his arms over his head, “You know what, I’m feeling kinda tired maybe I should go home.”

“You sit right back down on that couch, Arthur Leclerc.” You point a finger at him despite having your attention solely focused on your fiancé sitting in front of you, and not on the poor boy who tried to get away from the inevitable fight you and Charles are going to get into.

He lets himself fall back on the couch as he groans and presses a pillow over his face as he mumbles, “Here we go again.”

“I hope you know that these two situations are not similar to each other – like at all.” You emphasise for Charles, “I can’t believe you would even say that!”

There is a clear look of bewilderment in Charles’ eyes as he asks, “You dated ‘Lucas’, I dated Charlotte, how is it not the same?”

“I went on one date with the guy, didn’t date him for three whole years, that’s not the same, you idiot!” You exclaim as you quickly press your hand against your chest as you glare at Charles. “I can’t believe you couldn’t see that, God, Charles! You do this, you always do this!”

Maybe under different circumstances, Charles would have acted a bit smarter. He is, after all, a smart man, he prides himself of being one, but being the absolutely stupid man he is, he asks, “Do what?”

Arthur turns back from the couch, almost breaking his back in the process as his eyes widen in shock as well as he gives his brother a look which screams, How more stupid can you be, you dumbass? In an attempt to diffuse the tension, which is building between the two of you, he recommends, “How about we focus something other than the baby’s name, like the theme of the nursery?”

 “Fairy tales,” you answer at the same time Charles chimes, “Racing cars.”

“Okay I take that back.” Arthur mumbles as he watches you and Charles throw glares at each other. “Let’s just stop talking about the baby? It’s clear that the two of you are set on having all the fights you didn’t have before deciding to have a baby.”

Charles lets out a supportive sound. “We clearly suck at discussion right now, this is starting to turn into the argument we had about you taking my surname.”

“Are- are you serious right now?” You stutter once again, eyes widened with surprise. “You are so obstinate, Charles! You refuse to see the right when you’re in the wrong and you refuse to compromise!” You voice is coming more of as a groan now that he’s opened that door. “We didn’t need to have that argument, because i’ve been telling you that I am hyphenating my surname.”

He lets out a similar groan, as he tries to reason, “I just don’t understand why–”

“So our children can have your name, but they can’t have mine?” You raise an eyebrow in warning, eyes narrowing on the edges as you look at your fiancé with suspicion.

“No,” he retorts, trying to defend himself, “I never said I didn’t want the baby, or our future children, to have your surname, I said I just wanted them to have mine.”

You let out a humourless laugh at his reasoning, “So I’m just supposed to lose a big part of myself when we get married, is that it?”

Charles immediately feels a wave of guilt wash over him as he realizes the impact of his words. He jumps up from his seat and rushes over to you, kneeling down in front of you as he gently takes your hands in his. “Well, no– I didn’t mean it like that–”

“I think I know what you’ve meant, Charles.” You voice is shaky as you mumble the next words, “Can you just help me get up, please?”

“What?” Charles asks, motioning his brother to stand back. “Why?”

“Because I can’t stand up on my own, I’m six-months pregnant!” You exclaim, the tears finally start falling down your cheeks. “And it’s all because of you!”

In hindsight, Charles should’ve foreseen the way his words would cause such a commotion in your relationship – given the fact that the two of you have talked about it before. As the weight of his insensitivity settles in, a new wave of panic washes over Charles – he just couldn't shake the thought that his thoughtless words might push you away. And he knows he should’ve listened to Arthur’s warnings before, and probably should have used better words to express his feelings instead of saying things he didn’t mean in the first place; but then again, he’s never been too good at it in the first place. After receiving a very lengthy lecture from Arthur what to say, or rather what not to say, to a hormonal pregnant woman, he left the apartment the two of you share in a hurry to find you. Despite the logical side of his brain constantly remind him of the fact that you know the city well enough to not get lost, the nagging voice at the back of his mind reminded him of the worst things that could have happened both to the love his life and his baby. So imagine his frustration when you don’t answer any of his calls as he frantically rides around the city in hopes of finding you and apologising like he should’ve before you got out of the door.

After dialling your number for the umpteenth time that night, he releases a relaxed breath when you finally answer his call. “Mon amour, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“Charles?” He hears your voice play through the car play speakers, “Oh, Charles, I did something bad.”

“Y/N.” Charles can swear his heart stops for a moment, he pulls the car over quickly to give you his undivided attention. “Talk to me, love, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I didn’t mean to do it, it was an accident–”

“Chérie, please tell me what happened.” He pleads, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter with anxiety. “Where are you? I’ll come to get you.”

He hears you take a shaky breath as you mumble your next words, “I accidentally ordered both raspberry and lemon ice cream, and I can’t finish both.”

“I- darling,” Charles lets out another relieved breath, “I’m coming to get you now, okay? Just wait for me.”

Your voice is sheepish as you mumble, but the small sniffle Charles hears through the speakers is enough to make his heart clench. “Okay, can you please bring me my blanket?”

“Of course I will, just stay there okay?” He mumbles as he starts up the car again, “I love you.”

“Thank you, darling, I love you too.”

Some of the anxiety he has been feeling about your brief disappearance ease with the enlightment as Charles begins to drive towards the small ice cream parlour near your apartment. Of course, you were right around the corner when he was looking for you throughout the entire city; and of course, he should have known you’d crave ice cream after eight o’clock. Thankfully, it doesn’t take him long to get to you, and he remembers to grab the blanked you keep in the car for when you get cold during night drive the two of you go on frequently.

He finds you sitting at one of the tables right near the door, sitting by yourself as you eye the cup in front of you with a small pout on your face. “Chérie.”

“Charles.” You mumble, meeting his eyes as you exhale a deep breath. “You found me.”

“Well to be fair, love, you’re right around the corner from our home.” He drapes the blanked across your shoulders before settling next to you. A small smile forms of his face when you push the small cup towards him. “You got lemon ice cream?”

You sigh sadly as you wrap the blanket around you tighter, “I couldn’t get far because the baby wouldn’t let me, and she wanted ice cream – and it’s habit, Leclerc.” You scowl at him, quickly adding, “I’m still mad at you.” You let out a frustrated groan when you find him smirking covertly, “What?”

“You called the baby a ‘she’.” He points out, grabbing the spoon and getting some of the ice cream on his spoon, “You think it’s going to be a girl.”

“I- I- no!” You gasp as you watch him bring the spoon to his mount and gives you a dimpled smile, “You stop that right now, Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc!” You reach over to hit his arm lightly, “I’m still very much mad at you.”

“I know,” he responds grimly, “we have to talk about what happened.” He laces his fingers against yours as he takes your hand on his arm in his, “I didn’t mean anything I said, I am so sorry.”

You let out a deep sigh, eyes softening around the edges, “I need you to understand that I don’t want to lose a part of myself just because we are getting married and starting a family, Charles.” You shake your head lightly as you give him a sad smile, “Do you know how it makes me feel when you say that you want our children to have only your surname?”

“I do.” Charles replies, but after receiving the look from you, he adds, “I mean – I do, now.”

“Charles,” you begin, “I love you, and I love that we get to go on this journey together, but I am not giving up my name. And I want our children to have both of our names.”

“I’m sorry, chérie, I don’t know why I said that.” Charles looks at you with a sad look.

“Your feelings are important to me,” you tell him, “I need you to know that.”

His eyes widen in surprise, “I know that, oh God. I do know that, Y/N.” He presses a small kiss to your conjoined hands, “And you have to admit, love, Y/N-Leclerc sounds great.”

“Thank you,” you let out breathily, eyes brimming with tears, “I love you.”

“I love you too, chérie.” Charles’ smile turns into a mischievous one, “So you think the baby is going to be a girl?”

“Shut up, Perceval.” You bite back a smile as you bring your hands on your belly, “I just hope she has your dimples and not your anger threshold.”

[fox-bee926]

Who did this?

Harvey Specter x fem!reader

Masterlist A/N: Wow another one? I'm going to do one more after this and then answer an ask and put all my harvey fics on one post. Then after that who knows. I have an awesome aragorn x reader fic I've been playing around with so I might work on that. Definitely going to try and do more one shots to improve my writing. I really enjoy it but depression makes it a tad hard. Anyways! Enjoy! TW: **This story focuses on the physical abuse between the Reader character and her boyfriend. I am not responsible for the content you consume so please be advised. There are explanations of abuse, but no explicit scenes of abuse occurring.** abuse (physical and emotional), hurt/comfort, Harvey being very sweet, mention of painkillers but I'm talking like 2 tylenol or ibuprofen or something Word Count: 2.5k

You run across the street to the Pearson Hardman office building, just about soaking wet. All that protected you from the rain was a newspaper you bought right outside your building. You prayed all the way to work that it wouldn’t just completely break under the force of the rain. You had spent almost thirty minutes on makeup, twenty five more minutes than you usually spend. To go along with that, you couldn’t find an available taxi because of the rain. Not even the pain in your shoulder had let up, despite taking a couple painkillers.

Your boyfriend had gotten a bit angry with you last night after you went out socializing with some friends. It wasn’t your smartest move. You knew he didn’t like you to hang out with your guy friends without his permission. But you didn’t think it was that big of a deal. The feelings of your heart conflicted with your rational mind. All you know is you love him and he loves you. Which is why he gets upset when you go out without him. But then why wouldn’t he make time to go out with me alone?

You shook those thoughts out of your head as you swiped your card into the building. You took the time in the elevator to dry off with your sweater. Which was consequently soaked. Curses rang out in the elevator- cursing the sweater, the weather, your boyfriend, you didn’t know.

You sat down in the chair next to Donna and exchanged greetings. “How are we looking today, Donna?” You smiled as you saw Harvey sitting in his office. The only person getting into the office earlier than him was Donna.

“Full day as always. Oh, Jonathan from accounting asked for Harvey to look at his expense accounts for this last month. He won’t of course- but as long as they get to Harvey’s desk, Jon won’t speak another word about it until the next thousand dollar dinner with a client.” Donna goes back to typing rapidly on her computer. 

“And then the cycle continues,” You let out a hearty laugh for the first time since you left work last Friday. “I’ll get on that. Anything else while I’m in accounting?” You gather up different file folders that you need to take down to accounting anyway.

“Nope, say hi to Mr. Expense Forms for me!”

“Will do, Donna.”

You quickly walk to the elevator and down to the accounting department for Jonathan's expense reports. Harvey is still in the same spot as he was when you left as you open the door to his office. You make sure to open the door with your left arm, with the papers in your right. 

“I got a delivery for Harvey Specter from Mr. Jonathan Expense Forms from accounting. Fuming as always. You might want to lay off the fancy dinners for a week.” Harvey rolls his eyes at the notion.

“Sweetheart, you think I’m that good at my job that I don’t need fancy dinners to win over clients? You must think very highly of me.” He chuckles smugly as he writes words you can barely read on a legal pad. You deal his snark back just the same.

“Of course I think you’re good. You’re my boss, I’m legally obligated to think so.” You both laugh until you reach with your right arm to set the folder on his desk. You let out a noise just loud enough for Harvey to be concerned. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“It’s nothing, I just fell.”

At this, Harvey looks up. You were never one to be clumsy, let alone fall so hard as to hurt yourself. As Harvey’s eyes assess you, he notices a large dark bruise on your wrist- both your wrists in fact. 

His silence worries you, and you follow his eyes to your wrists. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry-” You quickly try to pull your sleeves down to cover the spots. Remnants of rain water drove through the foundation. 

Harvey takes a few deep breaths as you stand there in shocked silence. For the smallest second, you think he’s going to hurt you. Rationally, you know the notion is absurd, but the mind that has dealt with angry men keeps you silent.

Harvey finally speaks after taking a minute to process the information he’s pieced together.

“Who did this to you?”

You’re taken aback, that small part of your mind thinking he would call you unprofessional or weak. “My... My boyfriend. He just gets a little annoyed with me sometimes. It’s truly nothing. I’ll do better to cover them-”

“A good man being annoyed never results in bruises. How did this happen?” Harvey has to go against every part of his nature not to rush out and ask Donna everything about this man, then subsequently find him. He’s thinking that those boxing lessons are actually going to come in handy.

But he knows he can’t. He knows that if he moves like that, or moves at all, he’d terrify you. He can see how your eyes dart around. Towards the door, towards your wrists, and towards himself. He didn’t know how you would react if he even stood up.

“I fell into a bookshelf. He pushed me a bit and I lost balance.”

“You mean he shoved you into a shelf.”

The way Harvey phrased it made you feel uncomfortable. “That’s a bit harsh, but you could phrase it like that.”

He stared at you in disbelief. This wasn’t the woman he saw on a daily basis. The woman that dealt with almost every slimy man that came into the building. The woman that he had slowly fallen in love with since she arrived here.

The woman before him seemed like a shell of the woman he met three years ago, and he couldn’t help what came out of his mouth next.

“Do you know how you sound? You should never be bruised, shoved, or red eyed if you’re in love. That’s simply not how it is, and I’m sorry you’ve been made to believe that.”

At this, the dam broke.

Tears had been pooling in your eyes from the moment Harvey saw the bruises. But at his last words you let out a pained sob. It hadn't sunk in just how bad it had gotten. Your boyfriend had done this a few times before, but had never gotten so harsh until last night.

All the pain from the last year had come rushing in, and you were about to break right in front of your boss. Heavy tears started to run down your face. It was at this moment you were glad you never wore heavy makeup. You did your best to stifle the sounds and cries that tried to escape, but outside, Donna still saw through the glass. 

Immediately, Donna calmly walks in. She takes one look at you, then Harvey. With a single nod from Harvey, Donna lets out a quiet "Car is on its way."

Unfortunately that made you feel even worse. "I'm so sorry, Harvey. This is completely unprofessional-"

Harvey finally stands up and walks towards you. At this point, what you need isn't space. He places his hands as gentle as can be on your arms to coax you to look at him. And you do, but looking at your red eyes and wet tears streaming down your face up close make his heart break even more.

"I don't give a shit about professionalism. Donna is getting the car and my driver is going to take you home-"

"No! He's there, he's been trying to move in with me and doesn't have a day job. He's just been staying there..." Your sentence trails off as you’re trying to process what you’re actually saying. Are you really doing this?

"Okay, then my driver will take you to my place and give you a key. We'll talk about the next steps when I get home. I'll get you some things from your apartment, okay?"

The tears were gone purely by witnessing Harvey be so calm, and you nodded slowly. All you could do was follow the sound of his voice. Like a lighthouse in a raging storm. 

Donna entered the room quietly, "The car is here."

"Good. Donna will walk you out." You nodded, not saying a word. You turn to walk out of Harvey’s office, but he reaches out for your hand. “You’ll get through this, alright?”

You give a small smile. However, your mental state did not display the same sentiment. Your mind was reeling from what had happened in the last- what, 10? 15 minutes? 

Donna leads you out the back staircase as a gesture of mercy. She knew that you didn’t want anyone else to see you like this. Harvey wasn’t exaggerating his view of you. Everyone in the office saw you as an unbreakable force.

Harvey’s driver opens the door for you. You look back at Donna, who is smiling sweetly. “I promise, Harvey will take care of everything. The only thing you need to worry about is taking care of yourself, okay?” 

You gave Donna the same small smile you gave Harvey. You were at the edge of your sanity at this point. Now that you’ve gone through all the sadness and shock of the... situation, you were embarrassed. Angry. Angry at yourself for letting a man put his hands on you for a full year. Angry at Donna for knowing exactly what was going on and getting exactly what was needed. Angry at Harvey Specter for being so goddamn perfect that you couldn’t help the butterflies that always arose in your stomach whenever he talked to you. Angry at the world for putting you in this position.

Wordlessly, you exited the car once it stopped in front of Harvey’s building. You reached his apartment without thought. You took your heels off, and put your purse on the closest counter you saw. 

And you cried.

_______

 Harvey exited the elevator with a large box held in his hands. It was purely full of necessities. A week's change of clothes, toiletries, some books he knew were your favorite. Everything else he could buy new. He looked down and saw your heels on the ground and your purse on the table beside him.

Once he set down the box on the floor, he saw you. You looked even worse than at the office. Your beautiful hair was frizzy and pulled in odd directions. The worst part was the absolutely destroyed look on your face. Eyeshadow and liner were smudged on your red tinged eyes which stared into space in front of you. 

Harvey sees your body stiff as a board on the edge of his soft couch, seemingly ready to run at a moment’s thought. “Have you been sitting like that since you got here?”

“No. I’ve only just sat down.” Your arms leaned on your knees, hands folded in your lap.

Harvey tries to ignore the hoarse sound in your voice. “Well, you can relax a bit if you’d like. I got you some more comfortable clothes if you want to change.”

Your brows furrow as you think. “Did he give you any problems?” For the first time since he came in the front door you look at him. He was visibly more relaxed than he is in the office. His suit jacket was tossed on the coat rake next to the door and the sleeves of his dress shirt were neatly folded up his arms. He walked towards the kitchen to the freezer. 

“He didn’t get a chance. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you again.” He walks over to where you’re sitting on the couch and sets down an ice pack. His shirt was obviously wrinkled, and his knuckles held the slightest tinge of blue. The thought of Harvey hurting someone made your stomach flip, but you didn’t feel quite so bad for the receiving party.

“Let’s get some ice on that shoulder, huh?” He could tell you were still sensitive, but it felt more subdued than the scared woman he saw in his office.

You nodded in agreement about the ice pack. You hadn’t really stopped to think about it until he said something. As you unbutton your shirt to reveal your nude colored undershirt, you wince. The swelling of the bruise had gotten worse since you hadn’t taken anything for it. You hadn’t noticed the pain when you were crying, but now it just felt terrible.

“Let me help.” You give Harvey a look when the words come out of his mouth, a glimpse of that fiery woman that he knows. But you sigh and relent. You managed to undo a few buttons at least before Harvey steps in.

He unbuttons your shirt down to your stomach and pulls the shoulder of the shirt down just enough to slide the ice pack onto the skin. As soon as it’s securely placed between you and the couch, you let out a groan. In relief or pain, you don’t know. All you knew was that the cold felt absolutely wonderful on your swelled skin.

You and Harvey stay like that for a while, the exact amount of minutes you don’t know and neither does he. Harvey is the first to speak.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” 

You give him a look that says “I wonder why, dumbass.” But you refrain. “I’m thinking.”

He finally sits next to you on the couch and reaches his arm to grasp the top of the cushions. In his mind he excuses it as getting more comfortable, but the opportunity to touch you is also a bonus. Harvey was not a man of wise words for comfort, moreso actions and touch.

In a singsong voice, trying to lighten the mood, he says “Whatcha thinkin’ about.”

You smile a true smile and look towards him. Then the thoughts in your head come rushing in and the smile falls from your face. “I’m thinking about how I’ve been with him for so long that I don’t know how to live my life without him. So much of my life has been conforming to his ideals, his feelings. How am I supposed to love and be loved after him? After I’ve split my soul into so many pieces that I’ve lost track of where they all are?”

Both of you sit in silence, not sure what to say.

“I was definitely not expecting that.”

“I am... extremely sorry I said that, please just ignore-”

“I wasn’t finished, sweetheart. Firstly, I think you should see a professional about these feelings. But in the meantime, we can work on that together.” Harvey smiles, but then falters. “I- I mean, if you want. I’m not trying to get in your pants, I promise, all I’m saying is that I’m here whenever and you can stay as long as you want and-”

“Thank you, Harvey. It means a lot to hear you say that.” You laugh at the sight of a flustered Harvey Specter.

“To paraphrase, you're not alone in this. Not ever.”

You reach over with your good arm and pull him into as much of a hug as you can muster. In return, he pulls you close. Neither of you ever want to leave.

[wroteclassicaly]

so, like, my horny steve thot is almost always the same: i just love the idea of his cock being sooo uncommonly long and girthy that he has to take his sweet time getting you ready and even tho he makes you cum on four fingers and his tongue twice, he still can only fit about half of his cock inside you before you’re crying (crying for more? crying for less? you don’t even know … you’re crying for more probably) :(((( hehe

I know this is way more than a Steve thot, but I do hope you like it anyways? Hehe, thanks so much for sending it in, my dear Cece! I tweaked it a little bit ;)

Note: My vaginismus having ass could not take Steve’s monster very easily (if at all), but this is nice to think about. And I felt like having trouble, even with prep from four fingers (my god, I struggle with sometimes one and definitely two) — is relatable af!

Warnings: Language, smut, NSFW, touches on sub space a little bit, mentions oral sex, handjobs, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, and the reader has a hard time taking Steve, so there’s significant pain. I think that about covers it?

Sometimes you felt as if you were floating. Higher than the tallest cliff hanging off the quarry, rocks jagged and waters a deep, enriching blue, rippling in velvet serenity. Your particles could be scattered to the Midwest winds and you’d have yet to realize, halfway through time — maybe even space…? It happens more and more frequently now, tonight is no different.

You shift, one jut of your knee that slides into a slippery sloping press, his wiry leg hairs tickling your calf. He moves, widening your right thigh, your ankle sliding across your rose colored bed sheets, and back behind his slender form, where he’s kneeling in front of you. An electric heat flows so hot between your legs that the cool air rushing in hurts. You fist your own fingers into your air, massaging, tugging, neck stretching to expose the delicate tendons that run up your throat — ones he’s littered in his claims. God if he could suck them raw, nip the sore flesh into his teeth, enough that you whimper again, opening yourself just the way he needs you to…

Your arm is still thrown above your head, the outline of your forearm pressing into your pillow, your kiss-swollen lips shiny with spit and dormant pleas that he’d heard not long ago. He’s tried to say a few words, even used his palm to push down on your abdomen, still four knuckles deep into your soaking wet pussy. It’s to no avail, your eyes completely glassy, lash line soaked, gaze fucked over and reaching outer limits — a place he can only imagine what’s it like (from your perspective, anyways). He knows this path you go head first into. The books and magazines he had read a long time ago in his High School days mentioned how sex is obviously different for girls, how they can experience things more intensely sometimes.

But nothing could’ve prepared him for this. The very first time it happened coincided with a two hour long foreplay. Steve remembers it like the back of a Farrah Fawcet spray canister. He was prepping you to take him — all nerves and mangled, panting breaths. One finger and his mouth on your neck, two found his lips sucking underneath your jaw line and crooking against that spot just right, three had you stifling whimpers into his neck and riding his splayed palm that stayed drenched, and four… Well, four was an unremarkable set of attempts that took up the better part of the second hour.

You’d done it with Steve’s patience, his languid coaxing. And when you had berated yourself for being unable to take it much past the tip of the fourth, he’d slid between your legs and lifted them apart, his tongue finding your creamy opening and helping himself. You lost count on how many fuses he’d lit and caused to explode, only touching your senses upon hearing Steve hiss out a yes when his fourth finger easily joined the other three. It took a few minutes with him talking to you, high on a raspy ease, a delicious chorus of praises pouring off his lips — then you were back. Some sort of transitioning space, Robin had told him when he couldn’t help but to ask, wondering if it was too much for you.

And that fed into Steve’s addiction to satiate his hunger for seeing you in such an uncaring, completely melted state. All because of him.

He grabs your chin with a calloused thumb and pointer finger, pinching to tilt, your lips catching his and separating in an easy smack. His nose tucks into your cheek, another glide of his mouth, four fingers turning back into three and a stretch, and you inhale sharply — everything coming back into focus. Your breath is winded, bosom heaving and nipples dragging across his tufts of chest hair. He’s so fucking warm, his freckle splattered skin stained red with flush, his aftershave sinking into the corners of your mouth, stubble tickling your chin, and inky pupils littered with cinnamon rings. His brows pinch together, pearly white teeth grinning lazily as he presses another kiss to your mouth the moment that you sigh into a shared breath.

“Welcome back, baby.”

His free hand reaches for your forearm above your head, fingers sliding along damp and salty skin, tickling across your palm and lacing with your own digits — squeezing.

“Mhm. Stevie…” His thick fingers buried in that scorching mess between your thighs is suddenly on the forefront. Holy shit he’d gone to town on you. The evidence has slicked down your ass and onto the bed sheets, that’s no secret.

“I tap out again for a second? Fuck, you’re so good.” You coo at him, enjoying how his eyes light up in a mirth unmatched.

He hooks your right leg around his lower waist, leaving the other lowered to where you’ve got it propped. His eyes find yours and he drinks you in as he pulls his fingers from you slowly, both of you letting out a choked moan. His thumb pad caresses your clit, his digits smacking your cunt and scattering some arousal. You jump, toes curling, digging into his waistline.

“Shit, honey, let me taste you first.” He’s teasing, smirking that Steve Harrington smirk, popping his sopping fingers into that plush mouth, making a real diabolical show of it.

You practically chase his touch, eager to sample yourself — whatever he’ll let you have. He wiggles his shiny fingertips and barely touches your bottom lip, teasing you, making you raise up — the action causing his very prominent erection to nudge your folds. You jump a little, that instinctual preparation that promises a very defining pain — working its way to the forefront. Steve shakes his head and swipes his fingers across your mouth, planting them on your hip to massage in soothing circles. You’re so fucking wet that you’ve already soaked him, and that makes holding back from taking what he wants that much harder.

“Easy, okay? Haven’t even tried to put it in yet. You know I’ll always ask you before I do, right?”

You nod, breathing in a few self-comforting breaths. It’s not that you’re terrified of the pain. Hell, your little kinky ass indulges in it most of the time, but there’s also that percentage that is nervous, that worries about how much it usually does hurt, (despite many orgasms and lubrication), or if you won’t be able to take him at all this time. His walnut strands tickle your cheek as he descends to nuzzle your nose with his own, reassuring hand still on your hip.

“You want it like this tonight?”

You nearly combust on the spot, body bowing to a magnetizing nostalgia of various positions he’d fucked you in; nice and deep, or ever-so-slow and fucking filthily. You can almost taste his sweat from thrusts he’s yet to initiate, feel the goosebumps pepper your flesh as his silky mane tickles your forehead, maybe even your neck and shoulder (it all depends on which way he has you, really). You aren’t quick enough to draw in your timid answer, starting to slip again, preparing to drift and seek him out. His fingers leave your hip and pull down on your bottom lip, releasing it with a plop as the digits head towards your jaw — strumming a slow scrape. “Babe?” He’s amused, questioning. “How do you want me?”

“I..” And your throat feels like it’s overworked, yet you’ve barely spoken. It drips with elated exhaustion, slowly clambering upright. “Right where you are. Get the stuff, honey.” You flip his nickname for you back onto him, and it has a reaction that crashes into his chest, making it swell in size for you.

He nods immediately, the hand that’s holding yours — leaving, but only to work open the bedside drawer in haste, fumbling clumsily as he decides to capture your bottom lip between his teeth — leaving little love pecks as an after motion. You can barely leave his mouth, his neck straining and flushed bright red, caked in sweat. He rolls back on his haunches, his heavy cock bobbing against his stomach and leaving a connective trail of your slick and his pre-cum to both, your thighs and his.

“Jesus,” he mutters in awe. You’re always so wet for him.

You do shift a little, relaxing your legs around his lower back and connecting your ankles. He has the lube bottle in hand, cracking its lid and wiggling his brows at you. A silent signal not missed, you present your palm and he squeezes out a good amount of gel in, tossing it onto the nightstand beside your head. And fuck, you really wish you had your Polaroid right now, because watching him inhale through clenched teeth, toned waist giving into a bunch, and licking a sharp swipe of his tongue across his lips, the moment that your hand is reaching forward to take him in your grasp — it’s forever seared into your pitiful, Steve-stamped retinas. Screw your pupils, might as well be little Steve’s there instead.

His breath trembles, caressing his tongue, body unprepared as your fingertips tap a tempo up his shaft, barely grazing, before moving back down again. His cock twitches, jumping in your hand, and that’s the moment that you take your chance and wrap your fist around him. He falls forward on hefty palms, fingers splayed beside your head, bunching your sheets in a white knuckled grip. This is one of the parts that you absolutely go to the outer limits for.

He mouths at your jugular, nose pathing up your neck and dragging across your chin until he’s able to kiss you and pant against your lips. “That’s it, baby. Use it however you want to. S’ all yours. Don’t need to be afraid of it. ”

That first sticky contact where he’s finally parting your folds turns you into a babbling mess, a wanton whimper tangled at your tongue’s tip. The fingernail of Steve’s thumb scrapes at your chin, tugging and encouraging your sounds to spill free. When you oblige, he slides that very digit into your mouth and presses, salt, his saliva, and your own musky essence pouring over your taste buds.

“That’s my good girl — shit!” You roll your tongue around his finger and take him down to the knuckle, your fist gliding across his length at an easy rhythm in a simultaneous thievery.

“Monster madness.” You whisper, letting your tongue flick around his thumb, before releasing.

He meets your mouth in a shared grin — all teeth, light laughs. “So I own a monster and a python, huh?” He winds your hair back behind your ear and you know it’s almost time. Your grip on him has loosened a little.

You share a heavy stare, a connection that doesn’t falter, even through one raise of his bushy brows. You watch in a marveling, drool-lathered wonder as the tendons in his wrist flex when his fingers separate, pushing your folds apart. They disconnect with an audible squelch, making you grip him tightly again — squeezing. A diagram-deep groan punches through his esophagus and claws its way from his mouth. “Oh. Fucking do somethin’, honey. Please…”

His voice sounds wet, like a hurricane is rising inside his lungs, battering his insides, and threatening to flood his throat — a desperation that finds an adjoining link within your own desires. As he still holds you open, you bring his purpling tip to your swollen clit, and with a blinking of newly tear stained lashes — you use him. He couldn’t stop it if he tried, another beading escaping him and helping the friction you’ve begun to stimulate you both with. Your knee jerks and he thrusts into your hand, his thick, full balls catching on your ass, your wetness having found a home there too. It’s all too messy to comprehend a clean up. And he doesn’t want to, if he’s being honest.

“Baby, you have the prettiest clit. God it feels so good, you know that? Don’t stop for me.” He’s shaking in his forearms, biceps rattled, muscles caving in. He’s not even inside of you yet and he’s already drenched and throbbing, about to blow his load.

Luckily, you know him as well as he knows you. And you release, quickly lifting your ass in a slight wiggle, legs still locked and now wound around his lower back. You give him one pleading command. “Split me open, Stevie.”

He takes an intoxicating initiative, finding your left hand to hold on tight, fingers leaving your cunt and wrapping around his glistening base, curls matted with your cream. This isn’t gonna last long. “Need more lube, baby?” He checks one last time, your head shaking

You’re fucking warm and soft when he drags his dick through the seam of you, teasing, slapping your inner thigh, your clit, finally teasing his head to that ring of nerves. “Fuck.” His hand lifts on your hand, knuckles smashing into your pillow case, palms held and fitted. You’re relaxed enough that you’re close to sucking him right in, and as soon as the head pops past your opening, he sees your eyes fill with tears. You dig your nails into the top of his hand, scratching, nearly breaking skin. What comes out of your mouth before he can say anything shocks him.

“H-hold on. Fuck, I think I’m gonna cum.”

Steve’s lips find your neck and they suck, bite, licking clean the evidence of a beginning claim. He has to stop himself from fucking you up the bed at this new knowledge. “Oh yeah? Feels that good?”

“Just go slow.” You whimper into a kiss he bestows, tongue greedily slinking into his mouth to take what you want.

He sees what you mean when he presses in a little more and is flooded with a fresh wave of cream, his eyes rolling back and clouding over. And that’s the moment he knows that he has to check in, because you sniffle. There it is.

“Honey? You alright?”

You’re trying to say you are, but it comes out as a broken “mhm” and you lick your lips, eyes focusing on the ceiling, sclera burning. It fucking stings, your body is telling you what it knows — that it’s gonna be too much, that you’ll be sore. But he’s so warm, so heavy inside, and he isn’t even completely there. You try to shove your hips and seek out more, only to be rebuffed. “Baby…” he warns, composure tilting over that precipice, wavering.

And the air changes, your body goes light, and that’s it.

“Come here.” Your hand that’s unheld, is digging into his hair, its soft strands becoming rising waves in the gaps between your fingers, tumbling over yourself to get to his mouth.

His knees help keep him above you, or else he’d collapse. You breathe in deep, releasing it against his lips when you part, your nipples prodding at his slippery flesh. Smashing your nose into his own, he nudges, he shifts, and you’re caught — his thick cock sinking into you. It’s not even half, but you cling to Steve through gasping cries and tear splattered lips, everything aching and throbbing. Your heart is racing so hard that you’re sure your bones are being dusted to ash.

Despite the nearly unbearable fire his size carries, your body welcomes him halfway in without anything else needed. Steve pauses, not just for you, but for himself and the ridiculous choppiness that he can’t even call breathing. He lifts your combined hands and kisses each finger, making you tighten around him and his hips shove forward. You both curse and he apologizes, to no avail. You’ve begun to beg him, and he thinks he might be in his own transitioning space.

“Honey — Baby, hold on, m’ tryna make it better for you.”

“More, I want it all, S-Steve… Don’t stop!”

“But you’re tensing on me —“

“Please, oh god, please — Steve!”

His control vanishes and his closed fist reaches the bottom of your folds as he helps himself push the rest of the way in — in two swift, squelching glides. His tip finds that spot right away, settled like a flesh tight glove, and it sets off a series of sparks, your throat barely able to let out a scream before your release squirts from your cunt and reaches the happy trail scattered around Steve’s navel. Yep, it’s over. He pulls your linked hands up and drapes them by his neck, pumping his hips on one good time, forehead sticking to yours, eyes wide and lips parted in disbelief, and he comes. Your exposed hands that aren’t together, they find one another and match the other two, lacing, pieced just right.

Steve crumbles and collapses on you, your breasts dripping with combined exertion, his pulse racing to stabilize, face burrowing on the swell of your chest. It’s a few silent moments — his cock softening inside you, your cunt brimming with his warm spend, and then he’s looking up at you from his spot. That five o’clock shadow surrounds his mouth, his pupils trying to normalize, and fuck — his own eyes have spilled moisture. Every freckle and mole is visible, his easy grin and silent apology starting, but you brush the hair of his forehead, enjoying his reddened cheeks.

“I love you, honey. Are you okay? Want me to—“ His own voice sounds discombobulated.

“Stay a little while with me, like this? Inside?” Is your airy soft response.

And now, now you think that Steve will be floating over the quarry with you. Particles that fuse together. Of time and space.

// eat me paragraph //

[gomzdrawfr]

Bear with me here I am going to word vomit of an AU I thought of (and I literally just woke up) Idk if I have the time to write, draw or even animate this bUT

A ghostprice au where Price goes blind

Here’s a scene I had in my head, imagine a blackout panel, with a typewriting sound effect in the back that reads:

Patient Information: Johnathan Price, birth date, weight, height, number, address (something along those lines which are meant to hint this is a beginning of a medical record)

and then white blurry speech bubbles appearing from left and right

“What?”

You voiced out, or rather, Price voiced out (you are in Price’s POV)

All the speech bubbles seized, and for a moment it’s just darkness and much quieter whispers

“…Laswell?”

“John, you’re up, easy now”

He hears her from his left, but still there’s total darkness, and he furrows his brows, hands slowly reaching up to pat his face, or scratch it— there’s nothing on his skin, so he’s not being blindfolded, and there’s no sac or bag covering his head— but there is layers of something covering his eyes that he tries to pull off, managing to peek through a bit, he thinks he’s opening his eyes but—

Still black

“…?”

And then we cut to a shot of Ghost’s face, eyes wide with realization that Price can’t see anymore.

The last panel reads:

“Diagnosis: Traumatic Optic Neuropathy” (aka vision loss”

- end of scene

More rambles:

Thinking about maybe from a mission an IED went off before anyone could react— well technically Price reacted first by pulling Ghost away, which resulted in direct exposure to the blast, followed by a concussion

Ghost immediately got on his feet and dragged Price away while also making sure all units were still available, he looks down and he sees laceration and red

Well okay I haven’t figure out the clinical part but Im thinking maybe some blood pools around the corner of Price’s eyes (if, say, the laceration cut across his eyelids), it wouldn’t be as dramatic to the point where there’s blood trickling down his eyes per see cuz Idk if I plan to make the shrapnel penetrate into the cornea (in this case it would be extremely severe cause of trauma, I shall have some mercy on him)

Maybe amongst the panic he saw how Price’s left eye slowly turned red (internal bleeding) and all his alarms went off and quickly get medical on it

Of course he was praying that it wasn’t as serious, maybe it was superficial and maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him cuz it was dark and the hallway had red lamp all over

Also i just realized this is prob quite inaccurately portrayed bcuz the bandages that covers the eyes are usually tightly sealed, and that his action of ripping them off is prrrobbaaably not good since infections and increasing the pressure around his eyes are just going to make this worse (like reopening sutures or whatnot) but i think it could work (shhh ✨fiction science✨)

But nope, Price is blind, and that automatically puts him unfit for service and Ghost knows that this isn’t going to go well for the man

We always joked around saying Price is old but imagine if he’s mid 30s, prime in his years and definitely still had a lot of kick in him— only to be forcefully ripped away from it

The devastation, the angst, the anger, the unfairness of it all, the never ending cycle of guilt from both Ghost and Price

DO U FEEL IT?!

Anyways *ah hem* if you’ve read this far and would be interested to develop this yourself whether with fic or art go ahead! I sure as hell won’t be able to bring out the sheer desperation and agony from this sort of au or story so yeah XD

[wegc]

All of this perv! Talk is getting me 🫠🤤

I love the way you write Chan but how do you think the other boys would be as pervs

I feel like Han would be the nastiest perv

Seungmin would be secret like taking upskirt photos and stuff

Minho would be possessive as hellll

But let me know what you think, doesn’t need to be a full think if you want just some thoughts

Love the work you put out, can’t wait for more!🧡

If it’s available can I be 🧡anon?

first of all, thank you so much🥹

and YES omg, i agree with you completely. jisung and minho (i think) would be the nastiest and would be the only two with absolutely no shame in what they’re doing (especially minho hehe).

jisung holds first place for panty stealing and shows no remorse when he encounters you looking for them! i can picture him purchasing a cute gift box that contains all your stolen underwear—articles of cotton and lace fabric messily shoved in there.

he also definitely takes photos of you in compromising positions and fists his little cock to them, moaning and whining loudly, with zero intent to secrete what he’s doing.

and seungmin taking up-skirt photos omg. he finds you so captivating when you’re dressed up girlishly, and skirts are his absolute favourite, not only because you look so lovely, but because you’re extra accessible. he can’t help but stand behind you, pretending to look for something as he takes quick photos of your covered cunt to keep for later (he prays one day that he’ll catch you naked under the skirt).

i can also see seungmin grinding his hard-on against your ass whenever you’re sitting on his lap, sighing and squeezing your hips firmly as you look behind to stare at him curiously.

minho would be so possessive, oh my gosh.

i can picture him trying to figure out your cellphone password in hopes of discovering nudes in there when you’re not around.

once he ultimately figures it out, he steals your phone as you’re sleeping and impatiently unlocks your hidden photos, his cock swelling upon uncovering hundreds of photos of your tits and cunt—photos of you in lingerie, videos of you fucking yourself—holy shit, he thinks, were you always such a fucking slut?

he immediately sends them to himself and deletes the chat afterwards to keep you from finding out.

after scrolling through all of your photos and having his fair share of pleasure jerking himself off to all of them, he looks through the rest of your phone late into dusk, dedicating hours to examining your messages, social media, etc. who just followed you? who did you just call?

he feels himself grow irritated with the number of men you speak to, not many to the average individual but enough for lee minho—you didn’t send any of them your nudes, right?

whatever, whether you did or didn’t, you certainly weren’t going to anymore—not when he’s blocking every single man he’s concerned about from your phone. he’ll confess to you soon anyway—you’re already his, as far as he’s concerned.

[afloatinships]

So I have a theory on webtoon's Nevermore:

And it all pins back to this scene. My theory is that Annabel Lee's plan all along was just to get Lenore that new life

And I think it can all be seen right here, this scene comes right after the big reveal that there is only one new life available for all students. Annabel Lee was the only one not panicking, something that was called out by Lenore herself. Annabel Lee has been shown to be an extraordinaire liar, manipulating almost everyone in her life. She also only has one weakness: Lenore Vandernacht.

Three key scenes that indicate that:

The Physical pain on her face when she knows she has to leave Lenore for good, The Black Ribbons indicating her privately mourning Lenore's "death", and Ada's reveal of Annabel Lee's fear

Annabel Lee had to live a life without Lenore, so she knows how miserable she is whenever Lenore isn't with her. She also knows how much Lenore's mortal life genuinely sucked, compared to hers. Annabel Lee didn't exactly have the best life, however, it definitely was league's better than the hell Lenore's family put her through.

However, Lenore is selfless, so Annabel Lee could never outright just have Lenore move forward and get that new life. So she has to put up a show, create herself a chessboard with pawns and pieces. She positioned herself as the queen, one of the strongest pieces in chess. And we all know Prospero is definitely not the King in Annabel Lee's story.

In Chess, you can sacrifice a queen for a tactical advantage. So we take that into the board, and I bet Annabel Lee is 100% planning on sacrificing herself for her true king, Lenore.

With recent events in the webtoon, it has become such an engaging love story to watch. There are so many trials these two are going through and I just love the writing so much!

Anyway, sorry if this got rambling and boring, just wanted to share that thwory cause I have no one to talk to about it. Bye!