#make that bitch pasty

[rosesncarnations]

I love remembering I can just treat my sketches like coloring pages

[blorbologist]

can artists stop whitewashing Vex and Vax for five fucking minutes

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

seeing pale ass shadow is cursed as shit when I mostly play sonic adventure 2 where he’s got a darker muzzle. did eggman fucking make him white or.

[no1ryomafan]

I never like talking about specific things I know in the Japanese Getter community due to language barrier and at the end of the day it’s not my business what goes on in there but I gotta say the amount of times I’ve seen fan art of new ryoma without his god damn melanin will never not make me feel like this old ass image

[orcelito]

Sasuke is Out! Sasuke is Doing things! What will Sasuke do?! I have no idea!!! I've never gotten this far in the story before, so I have no idea how things are going from here!!!! But Sasuke is Loose!!!!!!

Quoting this post to myself as I see Sasuke walking around and doing things. I haven't seen this guy do anything in like a hundred episodes. It's so exciting

[shivasdarknight]

I don't remember if I've ever posted Lillith's updated appearance but like

it cant hurt to post again 🤭

(he/him only; nbi butch - call him a man and that's the last thing you ever do)

[dragonanon]

Getting exercise seems like a fun and good idea, until you’re on the treadmill and you’re literally SO wet with sweat that it’s physically dripping down your forehead and damn near getting into your eyes. 🙃

[togament]

i firmly believe that togame is BY FAR the best pussy eater of all the boys and no, i am not taking criticism. you straddling his face with your wet cunt in the morning is his perfect breakfast and judging by the noises he makes it's honestly hard to tell who's enjoying it more. i go will bathe in holy water now kbye.

Anon. YOUR MIND. Let me in for a little bit real quick I’m trying to see something 😳😳! But anyway yes I see!!! I see you!! I see the vision!!!!!! I agree. The man’s an undefeated eating champion. Eating FOOD ok lol puss puss eating champion does work too 😳 *adjusts glasses, stretches back* let me just work on a little somethin’—

𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞.

“Ngghh—Jo! W-wait a sec-“, you yelp, knees bent comfortably on your pillow with your plump thighs trapped in your lover’s strong clutches as he’s needlessly lapping away at your beautiful, juicy petals like a man starved. “T-the breakfast!”, you manage to add, warning him of the toast that’s definitely burning, your coffee now forgotten. Pulling away momentarily, he mumbles a slow teasing, “got mine right here,” against your flesh before he dives in again once more.

Feeling a sense of weakness in your legs, you stagger slightly and he immediately hooks his arms over your plumpness to secure you. Secure you so you won’t wobble again. To secure your pussy to his needy and hungry mouth. He licks a fat strip up your pussy before he nuzzles his nose into your clit, lapping and lapping at your juices.

Good God. You hold desperately on your bed-frame, knuckles a pasty white. You can feel him smiling into your cunt when you continue soaking his wanting lips. This bitch.

Looking to your side, you can see the sun peeking from behind the curtains—it’s barely risen, the sky a gradient sliver of azure and rust. You momentarily think back on the times he’s shown you how much of an eater he could be. Food, definitely. Never occurred to you he’d be this ravenous when eating you out. Thrown out of your thoughts, your lover sucks and laps harshly at your clit and you let out a delicious moan so loud you’re sure your waking neighbors could have heard you. Clasping a hand over your mouth, you stare down at your lover between your legs.

His eyes are shut, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. But once he feels you staring, he opens them. Emerald eyes boring into your skin, your breasts and blushing face a delicious sight to him. It only makes him need you more. With another harsh suck on your nub, he mutters, “eyes on me, doll.” and you obey. How could you not? With that voice? Yes sir.

Now you’re there, pinned underneath Togame, legs deliciously spread on your couch so obediently for him. His head’s trapped between your thighs again. The sun’s fully risen now. You both managed to make it to the kitchen to turn the coffee maker and toaster on but he’s got you in his grip as soon as they’re off.

Fingers tangled his hair, you urge him to move, your hips bucking into his tongue and clit bumping against his tall nose. He hums into it, sending shivers and vibrations up to your head you swear you feel high. A mixture of “G-god yes-!”, “You’re so good, baby-“, “right there!” and other expletives escape your reddened lips. You shudder as you squirt around him for the 5th time this morning, gripping at his hair tightly. He hums once more, tongue rapidly working away at you with his three fingers knuckle deep inside you. “Sweet-“, he says with a hungry lick, so annoyingly slow, “s’fuckin’ sweet t’me. Give me more-“ his voice grew a tad demanding, with his grip tightening around your legs he moves against the couch to ease his cock lazily. It’s been hard and leaking ever since you started. “More.” his licking grows more intense, hooking his fingers up to your gummy insides, prodding away at the sensitive bud. Your moans grow louder while he expertly devours you. You don’t want him to stop but you’re so fucking sensitive— “w-wait!! I-“ a desperate plea you mutter, but he manages to rip another one from you. You’re absolutely gushing. He hasn’t made you squirt this much—to soak the couch under your ass. But your lover doesn’t stop. Not until your legs stop shaking. God he’s hungry.

Minutes later you’re both lying there, sweaty and breathless, couch completely soaked. You massage his scalp weakly as he peppers kisses along your soft flesh. Neither of you utter a single word for a good while.

He reaches over to your side to grab some tissues to clean you up with. He pauses when he feels something hard hit his hand. He almost feels apologetic when he knew what it was.

He grabs a familiar bottle. Opening it, he squeezes a healthy amount of it on your still sensitive cunt and your inner thighs.

Flavored lube.

Your eyes widen as you feel yourself grow needier. Fuck is he grateful to have such a giver. Easing your legs open, he licks a line of the lubricant slowly, licking around your clit just to mess with you. Pressing kisses and kitty licks along the flesh, around and above the sensitive bud. You whine.

He gives you a lazy smile, fingers rubbing along your folds once more.

“Y’gonna give me another one right, doll?” he says so slowly, so low you swear it sounds like a growl. His head dips down, hot breath directly on your waiting pussy.

“M’not done yet.”

a/n: eheheHEHEHEHE. Thank you for sending that in, anon. I am now dipping and swimming in a pool of holy water. TOGAME THE EATER TOGAME THE EATEEEERRRRR 🗣️🗣️

[megalony]

A Hindrance

This is a new Emperor Geta imagine (Gladiator), thank you to the lovely anon who requested this. Please let me know what you think.

I'd love to take on any Geta requests anybody has.

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Main Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) tries to attend state meetings now she is married to an Emperor, but some of the Senates aren't so kind towards her. When Geta finds out, he makes them see reason.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft grin formed on (Y/n)'s lips before she even found the will power to open her eyes. She didn't have to look up to know that the shadows casting over her was because of her husband.

It almost felt strange to think that, to acknowledge that she was married now. That she was bound to someone from now until her last day. Someone to give herself to, someone to be herself around and to love more than anyone else; before anyone else. But it was also one of the most wonderful feelings in the world to (Y/n).

Knowing she was married to one of two Emperors was a daunting thought. It was easy for (Y/n) to separate Geta from the crown placed on his head, sometimes it was like seeing him as two different people. The stone faced Emperor the people saw, and the thawed out, doting man she had married only a fortnight ago.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was as soft and subtle as the warm breeze passing through the open window.

And when (Y/n) dared to open her eyes, she was met with a lovely sight. Geta had his right arm pressing down into the mattress near her shoulder and his head was tilted at an angle so he was looking down at her. He was leaning up on his elbow and his hip and his left arm stretched out so his fingers could create a ticklish path from the base of (Y/n)'s throat down her bare chest. It was almost as if Geta was drawing a map or following a road with the pad of his finger.

The lazy smile on his lips was infectious and seeing him now, bare and absent of any make up, it made him look warm. There was finally colour to his cheeks and a redness to his lips and a soft pale cream beneath his eyes.

It was homely and soothing to see Geta in this light, and to know that (Y/n) was the only person who got to see him like this. But she would have to admit that seeing him in his full regalia and make up was also a sight to behold. His deathly white skin when it was painted always looked so regal rather than pasty and ill. And the black streaks painted beneath his eyes made him stand out and made his gaze all the more piercing.

"Admiring the view," Geta murmured back whilst he continued his administrations, trailing his fingers down until he was creating patterns and secret words along (Y/n)'s waist just to feel the way she qould squirm and fidget beneath him.

His words set a fire blazing within (Y/n) and she couldn't help but reach her hand up to cup the side of his face. She pushed up from the pillow to capture him in a kiss that seemed to entice him until he was pushing his bare chest down against hers.

When she prepared to marry Geta, people had warned her. They told (Y/n) that Geta wouldn't give up his concubines or the women of the night he ventured to with his brother. And they also said that because he was an Emperor, he wasn't expected to either. He was permitted and socially applauded for keeping those favoured women around and having them to go to when he didn't want to be with his wife or in the event that she became pregnant.

Part of (Y/n) had tried to prepare herself for that thought and that event, but it turned out that she had no need. Geta had dismissed them all. All the women and concubines who had been at the palace to serve him had been dismissed and the only ones who remained were Caracalla's favoured women.

Geta had made it very clear that he didn't want anyone but (Y/n); he would devote himself to her in the same respect he expected her to devote to him. And (Y/n) was beyond happy with that gesture of love and trust.

"Don't we have a meeting to attend?" (Y/n)'s thumb stroked the side of Geta's face that she was still cradling in her palm and she spoke in between stolen kisses against his blushing red lips.

She liked the way his hands stopped drawing on her skin in favour of gripping her waist when she moved to sit up and he followed suit. His nose nudged against hers and his lips stole every breath (Y/n) tried to inhale like Geta simply couldn't breathe without her.

When one hand left her hip in favour of cradling the back of her neck so he could angle her lips better to his, (Y/n) could have passed out then and there. Her hands moved to grip his sturdy shoulders and she let him steal half a dozen more kisses and touches before she finally pulled back for air before her head burst.

"The meeting," She mumbled against his lips and leaned forward to leave an open mouthed kiss against the very corner of his mouth which caused Geta's eyes to flutter closed.

"This is more important."

"I don't think the Senate would agree."

"Ah, but taking care of my wife is my responsibility, not theirs." Geta's counter argument was effective, even if he wasn't using it to sway (Y/n)'s mind since he was already untangling from the sheets so he could stand up.

His touch lingered on her skin after he ventured into the smaller, adjoining room that housed all their clothes and garments.

(Y/n) supposed that she should get ready as well since she was expected to attend the meeting. She was expected to attend most, if not all, of the meetings both Emperors had regarding Rome and their conquored nations. She was the Empress now, her husband was one of the rulers and it wasn't just about being by his side and showing support for him and the people.

It was about (Y/n) understanding the governing of Rome and listening to the matters of state. (Y/n) had to know just as much as the Emperors about the land they ruled and controlled, she couldn't rely on second hand information from others.

Once she was dressed, (Y/n) smoothed her hands up and down her dress, brushing off the few wrinkles and making sure that it didn't hug too tight around her frame and flowed freely around her lower legs.

She began to pin her hair back and donned a golden band in her hair which matched the golden belt around her waist just as she felt a familiar pair of hands on her hips. She felt the growl rumble from Geta's lips through her neck and all throughout her blood when he tucked his face into her neck.

And she heard 'beautiful' and 'matching' mutter past his lips like he was singing her praises. She realised the colour of her dressed matched what Geta had chosen to wear.

Most of his and Caracalla's clothes had some element of gold in them, for gold was the colour of wealth and regal and it matched their natural fiery hair. Although where Caracalla favoured blue with gold, it was well seen that Geta favoured red.

He had streaks of red woven into the clothing he was wearing which was outwardly cream with gold embellishments and edgings. His robes didn't have sleeves as long as some of his other garments, the sleeves on this particular robe Geta wore today cut just past his shoulders and hung in front of his chest like a backwards cape.

(Y/n) murmured a soft "Thank you," When Geta unravelled himself from her and moved to stand beside her in front of the table which heldall the various pins and rings and jewels each of them would wear.

Geta had grown accustomed to sleeping with his rings still on his fingers until two weeks ago when he married (Y/n). None of his concubines had ever shared his bed all through the night so he hadn't realised that he could swing his arms out during his sleep. The rings that clad his fingers were heavy and had caused a bruise or two on (Y/n)'s soft skin when he slung an arm over her or at her during the night.

His fingers skimmed over the rings and he set about sliding each one over the grooves of his fingers towards his knuckles.

But when it came to choosing and clipping his other jewellery, he paused. His lips curved into a soft, melting smile when he held his wrist out towards (Y/n) and felt her soft touch skimming across his skin.

He watched with growing adoration in his eyes as (Y/n)slid a golden band over his wrist which looked like a piece of armor that started at his wrist and went halfway up his forearm. Next, she chose a thin gold bracelet to place on his other wrist and two golden chains for his neck.

Geta leaned forward towards her, raising a brow and curving his lips into a sideways grin as he bowed his head towards her chest so she could reach and loop the first chain over the back of his head until it hung comfortably around his neck. The pendant on the chain settled just below his collar bone, situated lovingly against his exposed pale skin and the second chain that looped around his neck hung much lower and rested over halfway down his chest.

When he raised back up to his full height, (Y/n) grinned as if admiring a work of art which in many ways, Geta was to her. The finishing touch was the golden leaf crown that (Y/n) carefully nestled into his golden hair, making sure the crown wasn't engulfed or obscured by his silky strands.

"My Emperor," Her voice was as tender as her touch when she skimmed the back of her hand down Geta's cheek and over his exposed chest.

She was sure he whispered "Yours alone." Against her lips when he dove down to steal a kiss and brush a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear.

(Y/n) slid her own rings onto her fingers when Geta finally released her so he could apply the make up he favoured whenever he had be seen by anyone other than his wife or brother. She hooked a few bracelets onto her wrist and one necklace.

Once they were both ready, (Y/n) looped her right hand around Geta's arm and stood close to his side as they left their chambers.

It had only been two weeks since their wedding, but they were quickly falling into a rhythm and routine together. Breakfast wasn't something they tended to fuss about. Before Geta and Caracalla became Emperors, during their harsh childhood, food had been something of a luxury they couldn't afford, something they didn't find often enough.

Breakfast had been cut out of their routines, they ate at midday and late evening, a lot of the times while growing up it had been one small meal a day if they were lucky. Becoming Emperors and having all the riches and luxuries in the world made them appreciate what they never used to have and they stuck to the routine of two meals a day.

And Geta preferred to get up and go straight to business, walk straight into these meetings. (Y/n) would follow Geta.

She was his wife, she wanted to show her support and show that their alliance was a loving and happy one. If Geta went to meetings and events alone it might imply that something was wrong or he didn't want her around. (Y/n) didn't want to give off that impression, especially when Geta wanted her by his side every moment of the day. He couldn't bear to be without her.

Her cheek nuzzled into his shoulder as they walked in tandem down the long corridors and down a flight of stairs.

The room in the palace where meetings were held was a large open court room that overlooked one of the fountains outside. (Y/n) thought the room was lovely, until it was filled with people.

The walls of stone were thick and high and when voices got louder, the room echoed badly. (Y/n) had never been a fan of crowds but loud noises were something she couldn't abide by. It was something Geta had figured out very early on in their courtship and something he was invested in helping with now that they were married.

Once they entered the room, a cold shiver passed over (Y/n) and she tucked herself more into Geta's side.

Apart from him and Caracalla, there weren't many, if any, people in here that she knew well enough to trust or talk to. (Y/n) was still finding her feet, she was attending these meetings more to keep on track with what was happening in Rome and to learn rather than to add any opinions or input into the room.

She was too nervous to speak unless Geta struck up a conversation and asked for her opinion and even then, (Y/n) was timid. Geta never pushed her into conversations, he was more than happy to simply have his wife by his side and on his arm. If she didn't want to speak that was fine by him, he would never push her boundaries.

It still felt unusual to sit in the centre of the room, being at the centre of the attention and focus of every other person in the room. (Y/n) was used to some attention, it came with the territory of being born into the upper class. She had to mind her manners, always be elequent when in public and hold her tongue. But being married to an Emperor was something else entirely. It was a whole new level of scrutiny and observation.

At least (Y/n) wasn't the full centre of attention. That fell onto her husband and brother in law. (Y/n) could sit silent by Geta's side and observe and he was the only person who would ask her opinion or ask her to comment. And he tried not to because he could see it made (Y/n) nervous.

When they sat down, Geta propped his chin on one hand and stretched his other arm across to rest on (Y/n)'s thigh. His fingers danced across her skin and the metal rings cladding his fingers tapped against her thigh in a soft, lulling pattern as he tried to concentrate as the meeting began.

The moment everyone began to speak, (Y/n) felt uneasy. No one seemed to wait their turn to speak. These were all men of the world, men of upper class, and yet they couldn't be polite enough to wait until one had finished speaking for another to butt in and make his point. They rose their voices over each other to be heard and to try and get one or both Emperors to listen to them before anyone else.

Their voices were loud enough without the stone walls echoing them and doubling their volume until it felt like needles were scratching down (Y/n)'s spine and stabbing into her ears.

Her fingers began to glide across each of Geta's rings and she tilted her head down to try and study each one, even though she had practically committed each design to memory by now. She needed something to focus on to calm herself down so she could listen to their raised voice in the background. It took patience to endure these meetings and although (Y/n) had abundance of patience, she wasn't sure she had the willpower.

But this was her place. Being beside her husband, listening to state affairs and the problems of Rome. This was where she was supposed to be and (Y/n) didn't dare ask to be removed from these meetings in fear of what people would say. What Geta would say. She didn't want to let him down, not when they had only just married.

Geta nodded aimlessly to the three Senates stood beside Caracalla who were now starting to raise their voices to get their invalid, separate points across. When one particular man rose his voice and his pitch seemed to bounce off the stone walls, Geta looked to his left.

He felt (Y/n) shudder.

Her fingers paused their administrations dancing across his knuckles and she seemed to shrink and jump in her seat when the particular echo vibrated through her ears.

That was something Geta had noticed a lot these past two weeks. He noticed his wife shrink back into his side or pull away when a particularly loud noise or someone's shout sounded loudly nearby. Loud noises never bothered Geta. He had grown up in a palace with strict rules and tutors and people rushing about and making clattering noises at all hours.

He was used to the roaring crowds of the colosseum and the cheering crowds when speeches were given and events were hosted. It was part of his life and his ears had become deafened to raised tones and volumes. Sometimes it slipped his mind that other people might have a sensitivity to things like this. He would have to keep an eye on (Y/n) and take note of what disgruntled her to make sure it didn't occur again.

After another debate that (Y/n) could barely keep track of, she finally stopped trailing her fingers across Geta's rings and hand in favour of squeezing his wrist to gain his attention.

She loved the way his head inclined in her direction and how his ruby red lips formed a living grin even before he knew what she was going to say. His free hand was pressing into his chin and his fingertips were tapping along his lip as if to obscure his smile so only his wife was able to see it.

The way (Y/n) silently circled her finger through the air gave Geta all the information he needed and he nodded, removing his hand from her thigh to allow her to get up. She was going to circle the room and try to get some fresh air from the open doors. Sitting down was making her go stiff and she wasn't engaged in conversation so no one could say anything if she traipsed around the room for a little while.

Her hands smoothed across her dress as if sorting the imaginary creases and her sandals glided agaginst the slabs of stone that scuffed beneath her feet. The subtle click of her sandals against the floor was a soothing sound compared to the voices and hands thrashing down on table tops to get their oblivious points across.

If it would have been socially acceptable to have Arla, her pet, in this meeting with them then (Y/n) would have asked one of the servants to bring her in. But she could just imagine the looks she would receive from all the older men in the room. The looks of distaste and irritation, the snide glances and tuts and eye rolls that it would cause.

After all, (Y/n) was an Empress but she wasn't the highest point of authority in Rome like her husband and her brother in law. If Caracalla ever brought Dondus into the meetings, no one batted an eyelid. No one wanted to be at the end of his temper and receive Caracalla's wrath. (Y/n) was different. She may have a temper, but she would never let it flare or argue with anyone, especially not in front of a crowd.

At least having Arla here with her would have made (Y/n) feel calmer and it would have given her something to put her attention to.

(Y/n) had a sudden, yearning desire to creep out of the door behind her when she stood at the corner of the room near the open doors that led out towards one of the many gardens in the palace. She wanted to disappear outside or head back into the palace and go about her day. She wanted to be away from prying eyes and wait faithfully for Geta rather than to be in here feeling useless and giving very little help or reasoning to this meeting.

She contemplated the thought for a while, that was, until she heard her title being called behind her.

"Empress." The quiet yet gruff voice caused (Y/n) to turn on her heels.

She clasped her hands together in front of her and tilted her head to one side as she looked the Senate up and down. It was Senator Arelius. A gentleman already on the wrong side of middle age with thinning grey hair and gaunt features that made him look toughened and stern.

He seemed to be smiling, but the way his eyes were narrowed down on (Y/n) made her feel unsettled and the slight curve of his lips was frightening rather than inviting.

"Arelius," (Y/n) nodded her head in acknowledgement and put on her best smile as her hands tightened together until the blood was cut off from her fingertips. She tried to be subtle as she took one step to the right so she could glance behind him and cast her eyes towards her husband.

(Y/n) wouldn't want to walk over there and interrupt Geta if he was deep in conversation, but she would rather be back at his side than stood here with a man she didn't trust and hardly knew.

Most of the Senates (Y/n) didn't trust because she knew the way they thought and how they did politics. They were all out for their own gain. When some heard of her betrothal to Geta, they began to get close to (Y/n), to try and befriend her and be on her good side in hopes that she would do them favours with the Emperors. They were wrong. (Y/n) wouldn't be used as a pawn in their games.

She would rather not talk to any of them unless it was strictly necessary.

The conversation between them quickly became stilted and broken and when Arelius turned so he was stood beside (Y/n) rather than in front of her, he looked back towards the Emperors. Both Emperors were on their feet and now stood around the table in the far corner of the room, nodding and observing the notes that they were being presented with.

It was as if Geta could sense their stares because he cast his head to the left and let a smile grace his lips when he looked at (Y/n) before he cast his eyes back down to his notes. A small acknowledgement that he still had her on his mind and that he wasn't too swept away with state business to be thinking of her and making sure she was okay.

"It seems the Emperor doesn't want to let his bride out of his sight. Does he not trust you, my Lady?"

Arelius's words made (Y/n)'s thoughts come to a halt and her expression faltered in panic as she turned to look up at him. Why would he say something like that? What would make him think that?

(Y/n) wasn't someone who needed to be watched at every moment of the day in case she did something wrong. She was not a child who needed supervision, she was Geta's wife. And he didn't have her here in the meeting with them just so he could keep an eye on her. She was here because it was her place and Geta wanted his wife by his side, not someone to keep track over.

"Pardon?" She did her best to steel her voice and hold her head high to show that she didn't believe nor take too kindly to what he was insinuating.

"Maybe the Emperor fears you might become a hinderence if you are left to your own devices."

The way Arelius smiled was as if he was a kindly parent trying to give (Y/n) some kind of advice. She didn't appreciate it. She did not appreciate what he was saying for he was acting as if she was inexperienced in state affairs like this. (Y/n) knew how to act and what to do and how to engage in these conversations, she simply did not wish to engage.

But she always acted respectfully, she never caused any scene or started arguments like the rest of the men in here. She did nothing to make Geta upset or show him up in front of his subserviant men.

(Y/n) could feel tears welling up behind her eyes that she did her best to push away as she tried to take a deep breath to control herself. The last thing she needed was to cause a scene or get upset and prove him right.

Her head tilted back and her chin raised high as she tried to hold herself together and find something to say in rebuttal but she paused when she noticed another Senate clearly listening in on their one-sided conversation. The other Senate was just a little bit younger than Arelius, and he had the kind of smile that was unnerving and made (Y/n) take a step back.

She continued to knot her fingers together as she mustered up the courage to speak her mind.

"Is it not a wife's place to be with her husband, especially an Empress? I think I should witness matters of state, Senator." (Y/n) thought she worded that rather well, and she was telling the truth.

It was her place to be beside Geta, she was his wife, she was supposed to support his decisions and what better way to do that than to witness those decisions being made. Show her support right from the start. If they didn't want (Y/n) here then they had to bring that up with both the Emperors.

"Or to be supervised." The younger Senate, Forin, muttered with one arched brow and his head twisted to the other side as if (Y/n) wasn't worth her time and this conversation wasn't as interesting as he hoped it would be.

"I think I'll take my place now."

(Y/n) took another step to the side and twisted away from both of them. Her place was beside her Emperor, no one else could say that and these two men, however high and mighty they thought of themselves, were not as high as they thought they were. At least not when compared with (Y/n)'s elevated status.

She could go and sit with Geta whereas they would have to fight to bend his ear and get any of his attention. (Y/n) never had to fight for Geta's attention; not once.

One step closer to Geta was all (Y/n) managed before a hand curled around her arm and she was suddenly halted in her pace by his firm grip. He wasn't finished, and he didn't like people walking away from him when he was clearly not done with their conversation.

"I can explain the matters of State for you, so you don't interrupt."

Did he really think (Y/n) would blunder over there and interrupt her husband? Did he think she was a child who needed watching and that she needed everything to be dumbed down and explained to her using pictures?

His words made (Y/n)'s stomach churn but his grip on her arm was what was unsettling her the most. As much as she wasn't a fan of loud noises, (Y/n) really wasn't a fan of personal contact or touch with anyone who wasn't her close family. Geta, Caracalla and her parents were the only people she was okay with being this close to her.

Having a Senate who was clearly unsettled and annoyed with her, grabbing her to pull her back and keep her from 'interrupting' her husband.

Her eyes darted between Arelius and his hand on her arm as her hands clenched and her palms began to sweat.

As if by chance, Geta turned to look behind him again. He thought (Y/n) would have been back by his side by now. She didn't often walk around the room for so long, especially when she didn't tend to talk to anyone during these meetings. She liked to be back by Geta's side and he liked to have her back with him as her presence was calming.

It took Geta a moment to scour his eyes around the hall and find his wife but when he did, his brows furrowed.

Why did Senator Arelius have his hand on Geta's wife?

Geta couldn't think of one valid reason why the Senate would be gripping her like that. The touch was clearly making her uncomfortable and that thought was riling up the bottle of rage that was held within Geta's chest. He could feel it spilling over inside of him like an errupting volcano and it made his blood fizzle and sent colour rushing beneath his painted white cheeks.

He straightened up until his spine clicked into place and he looked as straight as a board with a face that could rival the worst thunderstorm.

Before any of the Senates or his brother gathering round the table had chance to question what had changed Geta's mood so suddenly, he raised his right hand to pause their conversation.

He turned on his heels and stormed away from the table, aiming for the Senate with a blazing fury in his eyes and his jaw ground tight causing his pale cheekbones to pop out. His hands clenched into fists at his sides while he moved to stand directly beside (Y/n), close enough that she could feel his chest brushing up against her arm.

"Is there a problem?" The steely tone to Geta's voice was enough to make the warm summer air turn brisk and damp with cold as if Winter had rolled in without them knowing.

The way his eyes raked up and down Arelius made the elder man shiver and look as if he were about to melt into a puddle on the floor. The scrutiny in Geta's eyes was unnerving and frightening. He was displeased, and no one got away with displeasing an Emperor without a reprimand.

"No Emperor," Arelius smiled nervously and tilted his head back as he tried to calm his rising panic and steady himself.

"Then remove your hand from my wife, unless you wish to lose it."

(Y/n) gasped with the swiftness that Geta moved and how fast his demanour changed. Within an instant, his left arm was secured around her waist, reeling her into his side at the same moment which Arelius let go of her arm. But his right hand moved to push part of his robe to the side so his palm could curl around the handle of his sword.

A threat.

A very clear, menacing threat that told Arelius if he didn't back off, he would lose a limb; possibly his life. Geta was no stranger to being ruthless and he would easily follow through with any threat that he made.

The deep breath that Geta intook made (Y/n) tuck herself more into his side and push back into his firm chest that felt like it was fit to burst. She didn't want a scene to break out, not because of her and not when nothing had really happened except for a mere insult which (Y/n) could brush off and ignore.

"My apologies, Emperor… Empress." Arelius was quick to correct his error and add (Y/n)'s title to the end of his apology when Geta's head turned and his lips pursed into a thin line.

It was not Geta who he needed to be apologising to and if he couldn't be respectful then he needed to leave before he really got on Geta's dark side.

When Arelius backed up towards the corner of the room like a shamed child, (Y/n) glanced up at her husband. Her right hand slithered round to his lower back while her other hand pressed down on his chest as she twisted to face him. Her thumb brushed across his skin and she leaned her head forward into his chest, taking a quick moment to gather her senses and sink into Geta's unwavering embrace.

She felt his lips pressing against her temple and when she tilted her head back to look up at him, he stole a feverish kiss that managed to settle the anger that was still dwelling within him.

Maybe it was time for (Y/n) to depart. Perhaps it would be best if she left the meeting so no other disruptions were caused and they could conclude this meeting. She could meet with Geta afterwards and make sure this debacle was put behind them and reassure him that everything was as it should be.

(Y/n) didn't get the chance to offer a request to leave before she realised she was suddenly walking forwards rather than retreating towards the door. Geta's arm stayed firmly around her waist and he guided her back towards their seats. Back to where his brother was perched on the edge of the table with one leg crossed regally over the other and his hands tapping against his thighs while a smile lit up his face.

He liked confrontation and confliction. Caracalla feeded off the shockwaves and the high tension and he loved to see his twin assert dominance and show just how powerful the pair of them had become. They were the rulers, no one denied them anything or went against them. They would meet the end of a blade if they did.

"Your opinion is required to settle a debate, my love." Geta's words were murmured against the shell of (Y/n)'s ear and his hand feathered up and down her back as he sat down in his chair that was opposite the table. He had no want to stand next to the Senates, he would rather keep some space between them and simmer down.

When (Y/n) moved to try and take a seat beside him, both Geta's hands found her hips and he manovered her gently until she was perched down on his thigh instead. His arm secured around her waist so his hand could feather along her hip and he leant forward until his chin was settled neatly on her shoulder and his lips could attach to the crook of her neck.

He inhaled her scent like she was the air he needed to breathe and when his eyes diverted up to the Senates, they began their debate again.

(Y/n) moved her hands down to hold onto Geta's wrist and her cheek settled on top of his soft hair that felt like feathers tickling her skin. She could feel a point or two from his crown nestling against the base of her chin, but it was comforting rather than uncomfortable.

She loved it when Geta would wrap himself around her like this and want her as close as possible. And the way he held her and hummed into her neck showed he was happy- no, enthralled to be in her presence. He didn't think of (Y/n) as a hindrance like the Senator suggested.

She tried to focus on the way her husband was wrapped around her and how calm he was now that he was in her presence. This was why she had to stay at meetings like these.

How could she refuse when her place was right here by her husband's side?

After all, he was including her in discussions. He wanted her here and he valued her opinion, contrary to what some of the other men in this room might think. (Y/n) didn't want anyone to think badly of her when she had only just married Geta. And she wouldn't want them thinking that she didn't listen to her husband or that she liked to go against his wishes and leave when he wanted her there beside him.

Her place was here, and (Y/n) couldn't leave.

***

(Y/n) leaned her chin on her hand and began to tap her fingers against her cheek as she looked around the dome shaped room.

Another meeting.

The beginning of this meeting had been more fruitful than whatever seemed to be taking place now. For a while, (Y/n) had chipped in with an opinion and she had smiled and felt butterflies swarming through her stomach when Geta grinned proudly at her suggestions and wrote them down. She felt like she was making a bit of a difference and that her opinions were valued. At least by her husband and brother in law.

But now the meeting had turned sour. It wasn't just raised voices, it was arguments going back and forth between different people. The men seemed to have split into segments, little huddling groups arguing over vastly different ideas and topics that were making less and less sense the more they argued.

(Y/n) wanted to go. She wanted to walk out and go take Arla for a walk. She wished she had brought her faithful pet into this meeting, at least then she could have someone to focus on and something to take her mind off her growing panic.

She found her eyes diverting to Geta again when he grunted and slammed his hand down on the table. He wasn't happy. Whatever had been suggested to him was now cast to one side and completely overruled.

She heard him utter "Do shut up." To one of the Senates and as much as his gruff voice should have been off-putting, it made (Y/n) smile inwardly. There was a rough edge to his voice that made (Y/n) shiver.

He was a sight to behold when he took charge like this.

Her eyes didn't stay on him for very long when a group of three Senates began to argue loud enough to start a brawl between them. (Y/n) lifted her head off her hand and sat up straighter in her seat as she observed them with worried, narrowed eyes.

She wasn't sure what they were arguing about, but fingers were wagging and hands were clenching and one began to tut and toss his head back in annoyance.

Another groan vibrated at the back of Geta's throat and he tossed his head back when he heard the familiar voice of Horin starting up an argument. Why did all of these men have to argue like little children fighting over their toys? Could they not grow up and act like men?

Even Geta and Caracalla had never acted in this manner when they were little, although most of their childhood had been spent in rigid tutoring sessions. And fending off their father's unwarranted anger that was always unleashed unfairly onto the twins.

With one hand on the table in front of him, Geta slowly twisted on his heels and let his head loll to one side as he looked for the arguing gentlemen. One brow arched up and his red lips parted with a sigh. The unamused look in his eyes should have been enough to ward off the argument, but the men were taking no notice of him. They didn't seem to notice Caracalla huffing with growing irritation and his foot tapping against the floor.

Those men didn't even have the nerve to raise their opinions to the Emperors, they were arguing between themselves rather than talking calmly with the rest of the room. After all, they would need the Emperors to agree with them if they wanted their point to be taken seriously or their matter to be decided upon. They couldn't make any decisions themselves. That was why Geta and Caracalla were here.

"That's ludacris!" One of them shrieked, and his voice was loud and high enough in pitch to echo off the walls.

Geta took one step away from the table and squared his shoulders before his eyes were casting to the left. He saw the way (Y/n) flinched. Her arms coiled around her chest and she seemed to pull in on herself like she was trying to make herself small and compact or to disappear.

The clear discomfort on her features did something to Geta. It made something twist horribly in his gut and his usually neutral expression weakened for a moment as he looked at her.

He was torn between wanting to go over and dispell the argument and wanting to veer towards his wife and make sure she was alright. It was becoming apparent that distinct and loud noises were unsettling to her and Geta didn't want her to be in those kind of situations if she didn't need to be or if it was going to upset her.

He paused somewhere in between both directions when one of the Senates lashed his hand out and knocked a silver tray of glasses off the table. The bundle of glasses clattered to the floor and fractured into hundreds of sparkling pieces that glimmered in the midday sun and sprinkled across the stone floor.

The tray, however, bounced and each time it hit the stone and wavered back up into the air it caused a horrible thunder to crack through the room.

(Y/n) gasped. She couldn't help it. Her knees coiled up, her eyes snapped closed and her trembling hands moved to cup over her ears to preserve them and save them from the echoing thuds that were getting louder and sending shockwaves through her system.

Her back pressed into the chair and she shrank down as her nails scratched through her hair and into her scalp. She wanted them to stop. Why did they have to resort to lashing out when their arguments were getting them nowhere? Why couldn't they talk things out like calm, sensible men?

The way (Y/n) reacted sealed Geta's direction and had him turning towards her. He needed to remove her from this situation before she got upset, and he needed all of these idiots bundled up in this room to understand that this kind of behaviour wasn't acceptable.

He would have made it towards (Y/n), if it weren't for Arelius's voice that stopped Geta in his tracks and sent all his blood rushing to his head.

"The Empress is but a child; a hindrance."

Geta moved before anyone could blink. He thundered in (Y/n)'s direction but walked three feet past her chair to where Arelius was standing. Clearly he either hadn't anticipated the Emperor hearing his words or he thought Geta might agree with him. The nerve!'

But it was the movement of his right hand, gripping the sword on his waist that made all murmurs cease and had all eyes on them.

He removed the sword strapped to his waist and yeilded it expertly, twisting his wrist and thrusting forward until the end of the blade was pressing uncomfortably against Arelius's trachea. He used the blade to tilt Arelius's head back until his neck was pressing out and showing off his Adam's apple and each gulp of air he took was visible to everyone in the room.

Nobody moved. Not a single word was uttered as they all waited in anticipation and slight horror to see what the Emperor would do.

Intrigue pooled in Caracalla's eyes as he pushed forward from the table he was leaning against, being the first person in the room to make a move. Although he didn't move far. He walked until he was stood beside (Y/n)'s chair almost as if he were acting as a guard for her. His head inclined to one side and a smile lit up his face, showing off his golden tooth as he watched his twin.

He was eager to see what Geta would do and if he would be the first Emperor to spill blood during a political meeting like this. Caracalla would certainly cheer him on and back him up if that was what his brother wanted to do.

"Out."

That one word seethed past Geta's lips as his chest rose and fell like the tides crashing against the shore. It felt like his lungs were going to burst and each breath was physically paining him. It was like Geta was controlling all of the rage inside of him and it was putting pressure on each and every organ within him. His stomach was churning. His heart was desperately trying to break free and wrap itself around (Y/n) and his nerves were twisting themselves into knots.

"I- I-"

"Emperor-" Whoever it was that tried to step in to dissolve the situation clamped their mouth shut immediately when Caracalla sneered at them. His brother didn't need any help sorting out this situation. The Emperors were in charge and they could serve out any punishment and give any command they saw fit.

"Out. Before the hilt is buried in your throat." To prove his point, Geta clenched his hand tighter around the blade and pushed until the tip of the sword began to scratch into Arelius's neck.

The sharp blade easily cut through the first few layers of skin and had a slow trickle of blood slithering directly down his throat and soaking into the pale cream robes he was wearing.

If he wanted his life to be spared then Arelius needed to back away and leave the room before Geta changed his mind. Because it was becoming more and more desirable to thrust his sword through the Senate's throat and watch it carve out the other side.

But he didn't want to do that; not in front of (Y/n). Not when Geta knew seeing blood being shed by his own hands would not push his wife into his open arms. He didn't want to do anything that would push her away or upset her any further. Geta never wanted to do that.

When Arelius stepped back and slowly removed his throat from being pressed into the blade, he watched how Geta's arm stayed locked in place. Holding his threat that he was one second away from following through with.

Arelius pressed his palm against his throat, gasping and swallowing heavily as he turned on his heels and departed the room like a mutt with its tail between its legs.

Once he was gone and the doors were swung wide open in his wake, Geta finally moved. His movements felt stiff and broken as he thrust his sword back into the belt strapped around his waist and he turned in his wife's direction.

She no longer had her hands clasped over her ears, but she was starting to shake and her eyes were focused on the floor like she was too afraid to look up and see the faces of all the people staring at them. At her.

Shivers coursed up and down (Y/n)'s spine and she gasped when Geta's hand was suddenly enveloped around her own and he pulled her to her feet. Her free hand curled around his arm and she hurriedly smothered her face into his arm and glued herself into his side like she wished she could use Geta as a shield to hide herself from everyone in this room.

"This meeting is over." Geta's voice was rugged and his jaw clenched tight as he steered (Y/n) towards the doors.

He wasn't waiting around to finish this rather pointless meeting. If no one could be civil and talk like adults rather than petty children then this wasn't going ahead. And Geta certainly wasn't sitting around and waiting for this to finish when (Y/n) was upset and needed to leave.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and meshed her face into the back of Geta's shoulder, allowing him to steer her down the hall and up the stairs. She didn't have to open her eyes to know where he was taking her. Their room. He wanted to talk and he wasn't doing that until they were in the privacy of their room with no prying ears trying to listen in.

She could feel each deep, ragged breath Geta took as he stormed up the stairs and practically kicked their chamber door open.

When he led her inside, (Y/n) slowly unravelled her hands from his arm and retracted from his side so she could sit down on the end of their bed. Her feet began to tap and jitter against the floor and her hands quickly fisted into her dress and her nails began to scratch up and down her knees.

Was Geta angry with her? Did he think she had caused a scene? Did he think she was a hindrance like the rest of his council seemed to believe?

"I'm sorry… I- I didn't mean to interrupt the meeting." (Y/n) kept her eyes cast down on her hands that were almost shaking as she scratched deeply into her knees to try and gain some control over her bubbling emotions. She didn't want to cry and she didn't want to seem weak, but Arelius's recent words had cut deep.

Her teeth sank down into her lower lip in a desperate attempt to keep a stoic expression on her face and keep any tears at bay. But her eyes went round when Geta's hand suddenly pressed beneath her chin and her head was tilted back to look up at him.

He stood in front of her, close enough that he was pressing up against her legs and his chin was aimed down so he could look down on her properly. But the way Geta's thumb traced her chin and reached up to brush along her lower lip had (Y/n) at a loss for words.

"What on God's Earth are you sorry for? It is Arelius who should be apologising to you."

(Y/n) didn't have a response to that. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. Arelius had been cruel but his words had worried (Y/n). She worried she was becoming a hindrance, that Geta might regret marrying her or think she was weak or being silly or that she was interfering like Arelius had previously suggested. She would never want Geta to think of her like that.

"But you- you don't believe that I'm in the way, or need supervising, do you?"

The rage that seeped into Geta's eyes made (Y/n) want to cower down, but she knew that it wasn't directed at her. He wasn't angry with her. He was furious that someone would have suggested such a thing and made (Y/n) feel that way when there was absolutely no truth to the matter whatsoever.

Her eyes followed him as he seemed to debate whether to start pacing up and down the room or to sit beside her. He chose to sit down, against his better judgement considering how riled up he was now beginning to feel. His hand reached across to clasp around (Y/n)'s and when she leaned her head on his shoulder, Geta twisted to merge his lips with the top of her head.

"I don't believe that for a moment, my love." He murmured as he began to stroke his thumb up and down the back of her hand.

It was clear Geta was pushing the subject of Arelius to one side. He didn't want to upset (Y/n) any further and he would soon have a word with his brother and see what they could do to deal with this traitor and make an example of him. Because Geta wouldn't allow anyone else to think they could talk to (Y/n) like this or upset her.

He would try and push those thoughts to the back of his mind until he was in his brother's company. For now, he would focus on his wife and making sure that she was okay and happy.

"But you do not enjoy these meetings, do you?"

(Y/n) nudged her nose against Geta's shoulder, debating her answer and how truthful she wanted to be. "No, I don't. That room echoes, everything is too loud and their yells and anger are unnecessary; I don't like their shouts."

Anything such as those meetings or public events where they had to stand before a rowding crowd was unsettling. The games were even worse as the colosseum seemed to amplify any noise tenfold and deafen every spectator. (Y/n) didn't know how her husband could laugh and thrive in such environments as those.

"You don't have to attend any further meetings, my love." Geta's words clearly confused (Y/n) for she lifted her head from his shoulder with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

"But… but I should attend, it's my place-"

"Your place is always by my side, but I won't have you somewhere you don't feel comfortable. The Senate can't refuse if I excuse you from any and all further meetings you do not wish to attend."

If Geta told his council and the Senates that (Y/n) was not to attend any further meetings, that should be the end of it. They had no authority to question him or ask why or demand that (Y/n) attend. In the back of his mind Geta knew none of those fools would demand (Y/n) be at the meetings, they never asked her opinions, even if they thought what she said was credible once Geta asked for her advice.

They wouldn't bat an eyelid if she weren't there, although they would ask why. They could ask, but they wouldn't receive any response. Geta didn't have to explain any of his rulings to them, he answered to no one. Not even the Gods.

"You won't think bad of me?"

"Never. And anyone who questions your absence will meet their fate by my blade."

The feeling of his hand cupping her face was electrifying and when he tilted her head back so their lips could meet, his touch was heavenly. No one would question this and no one would have the right to make any comments. And Geta certainly wouldn't think bad of her.

He only wished for her happiness, and he would do whatever was in his power to make that happen.

[atelierlili]

“Appalachia is 90% white”

“Katniss is only described as olive skinned, that like so many Europeans”

“Prim’s blonde, that’s weird for a biracial person.”

Bitch shut the fuck you and just say your racist ass doesn’t accept that the Seam are stand in for minority races. Having two pasty ass group of people with different hair colours isn’t going make anyone notice or analyze the class divide between the Seam and Merchants. I fucking hate the movies for white washing Haymitch and Katniss because their Seam backgrounds are exactly why they understand each other. They have their own small culture and identity from the merchants.

It also visually shows how Peeta and her mother are outsiders. It’s important. It matters!!!!

And I get why Katniss and Haymitch were white back when the movies first came out, but times have fucking changed and I want the representation that existed in the books from the beginning.

Second of all, you can be biracial and have blonde hair as long as both parents have the fucking gene. 12 is small as shit, people get around and cross townlines from time to time. Shut the fuck up.

I fucking hate it here.

[shinigamigloss]

spring kisses!

cw: fem! reader, just fluff stuff but turns out a little bit explicit! kisses! nearly public stuff but then again it’s not a public thing? established relationships! aka i needed to write something for him after my exam and here it is

⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You page through Wuthering Heights for what is probably the hundredth time today, elbow on the checkered picnic blanket, fingertips kissed by blue bruises of pigment.

Your notebook is a mess of annotations, underlined passages, and words circled so aggressively that the hued ink of the highlighter has nearly bled through the pasty paper.

March and Mother Nature are generously mellow today – bright blue skies, a soft breeze, and sunlight pouring through burgeoning branches overhead. The campus garden, usually buzzing with student causerie, is nearly vacant. Peaceful.

Or—

It was because it isn’t anymore.

Your boyfriend, Leon, has been doing anything but studying for the upcoming English exam.

He’s lying on his back, one arm resting behind his head, a textbook abandoned alongside him. His white T-shirt has ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of pallid skin just above his belt. Navy jeans are rumpled from how much he’s been rolling around – animatedly and restlessly.

He squints upwards at the sky for a stardust of a minute, then turns his head towards you.

“Hey, what if we just drop out?” he propounds, completely in earnest.

“Dropped out, I’m saying. Started a surf shack somewhere warm. You could read all day on the beach, and I’d... hmm. I don’t know. I guess I can make smoothies or something. I’m good at that.”

You don’t even glance up at this.

“You kinda suck at surfing.”

“Okay, fair point, but I’d still nail making some damn good smoothies.”

He nudges your knee with his beat-up kicks.

“Just think about it. You and me and our little beach house. Drinking fancy stuff out of coconut husks.”

“Leon.” You do eventually meet his gaze. Looking unimpressed, but your voice is pitched in an awful exhaustion. Feeling the crushing of your heart when the dreamy blues fade out at your tone.

You can be such a sour bitch when you want to be.

“I’m sorry, Leon.” So you try again. Gentler.

“We have a Romanticism quiz tomorrow.”

“Exactly. Romanticism.” And his blues are pellucid again.

“I say we live the romanticism instead of just reading about it.”

He rolls over onto his side and supports himself on his elbow. His wind-blown hair is falling over his face.

“Like, didn’t half these guys literally just walk around through fields, reciting undying love, shouting into the sky or something?”

You glare half-heartedly.

“Did you even read the book?”

Leon grins, grabbing at your wrist, taking the highlighter away from you. “Sort of?”

“Leon...”

“What?” His fingers toy with yours, circling gingerly on your palm. “You’re so tense. Look at you bitching up. Gonna kill yourself studying.” He turns your hand around and leaves a warm kiss on your wrist. “And I don’t like you sour. I like you sweet.”

Your breath hitches.

Leon catches it. He always does.

“Leon,” you attempt to caution him, but his name escapes softer than you intended.

“Hmm?” He plants a butterfly of a kiss in the palm of your hand once more, this time holding it for a fraction of a second longer. His voice is low and teasing. “Go on, say it, doll.”

You try to pull your hand back, but he catches it, leaving kisses along your wrist up your forearm, slow and deliberate. His mouth on your skin is warm, and as he nestles into the top of your sleeve, looking up at you – adoring – you know he has the best of you.

“You’re distracting me,” you insert a protest.

“Okay,” he sings, pressing a kiss to the inside of your elbow. “You work too hard. I’ll take care of you, yeah?”

You manage to get your mouth open to speak out, but Leon gets the opportunity to sit up proper, leaning in. His hands are on your hips as he lowers his face.

Suddenly, Wuthering Heights doesn’t seem so important.

“Just five minutes,” he breathes, his lips drawing over your jaw, feathering just below your ear. “Then you can go yell at dead poets again.”

You sigh in giddiness when he nips at your skin. “You’re so annoying.”

“You like me just like this.” His smile is just present in his voice, manifestly so. Fingers sink into your waist, slipping just beneath the edge of your sweater, palms warming against your delicate skin.

Hearts racing. Blood rush in the hazy glow.

His touch is sedating, zephyr-like too, as if he’s memorizing the shape of you by touch alone. His hands, your flesh, and bones. Your nipples are hard like diamonds, and your mouth is agape.

His thumbs brush judiciously over your sides, find the hook of your lovely bra, but then—

A blast of air sweeps through the pages of your notebook, and one of your study sheets flies off.

Leon immediately stops, blinking at the chaos in front of him.

Then, quite dramatically, he flips onto his back. “The universe is cockblocking me.”

You respond with laughter, but shit – you just missed a prime motorboating opportunity.

“Maybe the universe is saying that we should actually study.”

“Nah. The universe is jealous.” He breathes in, narrowing his eyes up at the sky, before tilting his head in your direction with a touch of an arrogant smile on his mouth. “Five more minutes, Miss?”

“Ugh, no way. This is a public place, and we—”

You toss your head, but when he sulks – bottom lip thrust out just so, puppy-dog eyes, full rosy lips – you simply acquiesce.

“Fine… Three minutes,” you conclude.

Leon’s hands are on you again before you even finish speaking.

[fennecfox44]

landslide

jack hughes x reader

summary - my attempt at nice jack.. takes place years before radio nowhere so u dont need to read that first but maybe u should bc i liked it.. also might do a series idgaf who gaf id ont gaf...

Well, I've been afraid of changing 'Cause I've built my life around you But time makes you bolder Even children get older And I'm getting older, too

04 30 2019

The summer sun is burning a hot hole through your back. You feel the scorch creeping up your shoulders and you know you should flip off of your stomach already but you’re too comfortable, sun-baked. Cicadas hummed and buzzed but you only heard them in between songs shuffling through your wired headphones. 

Some time passes before you eventually decide you’ll flip over once this song ends—no, the next one—and then you finally do. You tug your sunglasses off the top of your head and push them up the bridge of your nose, shutting your eyes as you settle into your new position on your back. 

Luke had invited you to fish with him and Quinn. Jack was off on a tournament in Russia, so they let you use his rod. But your patience for it dwindled quickly, deciding your time would be better spent tanning in a bikini than waiting aimlessly for a fish to poke. You’d fallen asleep in the chair, the sun soaking up your energy, and when you’d woken up, the brothers were gone. Probably to eat. But you weren’t hungry, so you stayed on the dock.

Your eyes are shut but you can still sense a cloud or something pass over you through the thin veil of your eyelids. You squint and push your glasses up over your head, worried it’s rain and that you’ll have to make a run for it back to the house. But it’s only Jack.

Your heart might’ve lept—well, it does, but not with excitement—if you hadn’t already known he was coming back today. He hadn’t text or called. You only got your news on him relayed to you second hand from Luke. The games he won, how his practices went. Luke had even offered a handful of times to put you on the phone whenever he called, but when prompted, Jack had always just said that he had to go and that he'd call back later. 

You scowl up at him when you see his shit-eating grin, and pull your sunglasses back down.

“Is this my—hey, this is my chair,” Jack says, stifling a laugh as he pulls your legs up and on to his lap as he shoves his way onto part of the chair.

“Oh god, go back to Russia,” you grunt, tugging your headphones out of your ears. “It was so nice with you gone.”

“Hello to you too,” he grimaces as you kick at him, trying to wrestle your ankles into submission. “Fuck, chill out.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t even say hi!” you whine.

“Hi,” he smiles, snatching your sunglasses off your face. “Wow, it’s sunny. I forgot what the sun felt like.”

“Yeah, you look super pasty,” you retort, trying to grab your glasses back. He smacks your hands away. You give up and huff, laying back down against the chair.

“This is my chair,” he says again, more intently.

“Yeah. And I was using your rod earlier, too.”

“Yeah? My rod?” Jack grins cheekily, the fact that you hadn’t caught your own innuendo. “You wanna use it again now?”

You scoff, really kicking him hard in the side this time. Jack grunts, clutching at his side.

“Ow, you bitch,” he huffs. “The fuck’s up with you?”

You glare at him. “Giving me a hard time about not saying hi is really funny when you didn’t even call me once, Jack.”

Completely serious now, he pulls the glasses off to really look at you. “I called you!” 

Technically. He called you a couple times in the middle of the night so that you could help him get off, not minding the time difference or that it threw you off your sleep schedule. You had tried to talk to him after, but he would say he had to get to bed, big game tomorrow or whatever excuse and that he’d call for real after. But he never did.

“Right,” you roll your eyes, finally retrieving the glasses back. You put them on, not wanting to look at him. “You’re right. I’m wrong.”

Jack groans, exasperated, running a hand through his hair. “See, this is the shit that pisses me off about you or us or whatever. You’re not my girlfriend. We’re not dating. Why do I have to call you? Why are you so up my ass?”

You bite the inside of your cheek but can’t help how your nostrils flare, trying not to react. You lived on eggshells around him, afraid that showing too much feeling would send him running.

“We’re friends,” you mumble, drawing your legs up to your chest. Felt really naked and vulnerable, suddenly very conscious of yourself and that you were only in a bikini with him sat beside you fully clothed. “Just would've been nice.”

Jack sighs, laying his head on your knees. “Sorryyyyy,” he drones, looking up at you. He wraps his cold hands around your warm calves. Then drops his head and presses a kiss to each of your knees. “Sorry, sorry.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Stop,” you pretend to be annoyed, tangling a hand through his hair like you were gonna pull him off, but really, you only wanted to make sure he stayed.

He splits your legs open, kissing the inside of your thighs, punctuating each one with a ‘ sorry’ in between.

“Jack,” you hiss, really tugging his hair this time as he makes his way lower. 

“Sorry,” he keeps on, trailing closer to your core. At one point, he even bites at you playfully, and you whine, trying to squirm away, but he holds on to your hips, dragging you towards him. He’s knelt before you. You glance over your shoulder, and you convince yourself that the chair’s big enough to conceal him. And all the way from the house, through a window too. No one could see.

He hooks his thumbs round your bikini bottoms and tugs them down. His hands crawl back up as he spreads you open, glistening, wanting, before he latches his hands back onto your hip bones, pulling you up to his mouth. 

You mewl desperately, your head lolling back, chewing your lip as he licks at you. Reflexively your hips buck against him but he holds you down while he apologizes so kindly. This was so rare. Even if there was a chance of getting caught, you think you’d take it, if it meant having him be this nice to you.

“Fuck,” you whimper, tears brimming your eyes as you tug his hair, urging him closer. Jack grunts, a hand trailing up your body, grazing your ribs before you snag his hand in yours. Without really thinking, you mindlessly pull his hand up to your mouth, sucking a finger past your lips. He groans into you, the vibration of it shooting a bolt through you. 

He pulls his hand free, looking up at you, his mouth glistening. You whimper down at him as he wraps a bruising grip around your waist, pulling you down the length of the chair. “You little fuckin’ devil,” he says, looming over you, and you’re not sure if he’s mad or not, but decide it’s the latter when he presses his mouth to yours, kissing you hotly. "Fuck, you taste good." He murmurs against your mouth.

Jack pulls away, and you think he’s gonna really start in on you now, but he just stares. He brushes some unkempt hair out of your face, tucks it behind your ear before rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. You look up at him, hoping your internal mix of shock and fear and hope and awe don’t betray you.

“You got prettier,” he says. “I mean, you’re always pretty. But you look prettier.”

You pinch your eyebrows together, drawn up tight in the middle. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiles strangely, then pats your cheek like a child. “Keep it up, kiddo.”

He goes to pull his hand free and against your better judgement, you reach for it, wanting to keep him close.

But he’s already pulled free, yawning, stretching. “Fuck. Jet lag’s a bitch.”

You wrap your legs around his middle. “I wanna make you feel better,” you say. Too forward. Too much all at once. He’ll think you’re trying to get something more out of him, tie him down to you, but you can’t help it. All you’ve ever wanted is to make him feel good, even when he’s constantly leaving you wanting.

He pats your leg, bending down to press one last cheeky kiss on your knee. “You’re sweet. I really am sorry.”

You frown. “Did something happen in Russia?”

Jack shakes his head, grinning. “Nah. Maybe I missed you.”

It was so hard to believe him, but you wanted to. Even if it meant you knowing you were going to let him let you down again. He would never want you this way. Fully, forever.

“Gross,” you say, but you both know you missed him more. It’s why he gets away with everything he does. He rolls his eyes again. This was good as it was. It didn’t need to change. Nothing needed to change.

[kcrossvine-art]

Heya folks! Its been a bit, food insecurity is a bitch, but today on the quest of cooking our way through Lord of the Rings we're gonna be making a dish exclusively mentioned in the 2007 MMO-

We will be making a Rohan Pasty! 

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes into a Rohans Pasty?” YOU MIGHT ASKBasics. Meat n potatoes of your meat-in-dough food. .

All-purpose flour

Salt

Baking powder

Vegetable oil

Olive oil

Ground beef

Garlic salt

Ground cumin

Chili powder

Dried oregano

Waxy potato

Garlic

White onion

Egg

"A delicious local pastry filled with beef and potatoes."- LOTRO Rohan is a kingdom of humans in middle-earth, and the description point towards a cornish pasty (yes, pasty not pastry). Oddly enough the image is more of an empanada but you win some you lose some. This heritage informs much of the shape and ingredients of this dish, however we're opting to cook most of the ingredients before adding them in, contrary to going in raw as a cornish pasty calls for. I chose to deviate here because cooking beforehand allows more seasoning to be crammed in. The english hate seasoning.

AND, “what does a Rohans Pasty taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Tastes like the best pot pie youve had, less soggy

Excellent for an after-rugby/martial arts/soccer dinner

The potatoes are foundational

Despite needing the least work

Pasta salad (cucumber, olives, pepperocini) would pair well as a side

And would also pair well with beer

This meal bears the gold star sticker of not having any major issues! Hooray! Maybe its increased comfortability in the kitchen, or maybe its because of how very simple this one is. Chopped roasted bell pepper might be good in the filling in the future.

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

Get the dough ready ahead of time- its mentioned in the recipe below but i also wanted to say a foreword here that it needs to sit in the fridge for a few hours. Just so ya dont get everything out and realise itd take too long for dinner tonight. Speaking of dough, i feel like it could have more flavor added to it. Its bland and although its not part of the tradition of the meal its based off of, cornish meat pasty, it might be nice to add some spices like cumin or black pepper to the flour. 

The meal reheats perfect- wrap in papertowl and put it in the microwave for 30 seconds per pasty.

When picking your potatoes make sure theyre "new" potatoes (baby ones) or whichever potato with the least amount of starch you can get. Its important for it to cook inside the pasty that it not have too much lest it get Mushy Bad.

Another thing about its real-life inspo; Cornish pastys were workers food, stuff you could carry into the mines, stuff thatd reheat well. You could hold the crust with your dirty hands and throw it away once you ate the rest. I always feel partial to these foods. Although I'd still eat the dirty crust.

This recipe earns a solid 8/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) 

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Dough Ingredients:

370g all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

74g vegetable oil

240g warm water

Filling Ingredients:

2 tablespoons(ish) olive oil

1 pound ground beef

2 tablespoons tomato paste

Garlic salt to taste

Ground cumin to taste

Chili powder to taste

Dried oregano to taste

5 cloves garlic, minced

1 white onion, diced

Method:

Combine flour, salt and baking powder.

Add oil and water into mixer with dough hook running at medium speed. Mix for 1 minute, stopping several times to scrape the sides of the bowl.

When mixture comes together and begins to form a ball, decrease mixing speed to low. Continue to mix just until dough is smooth.

Take the dough ball, safely wrap it, and transfer to fridge. Let sit for at minimum 2 hours.

For the meat, get a large skillet, and add some olive oil over medium heat. Add the ground beef and garlic salt, cook until the beef is cooked completely.

Drain the beef and set aside.

In the same pan, add the garlic, onions, cumin, chili powder, oregano, and salt.

Cook until the onions are softened but not brown, 10 to 15 minutes. Re-add the beef and cook over low heat for about 5 more minutes.

Back to the dough, transfer dough from fridge to well-floured work surface. Roll into log and divide into 10 equal portions. 

Preheat oven to 350f.

Form each piece into a ball and flatten each with a rolling pin.

Add a layer of diced potatos down the middle of the pastys. Add the meat filling to each. Fold the sides of the dough up to seal on top in the middle.

Gently turn the pasty on its side and crimp the edge, alternating a braid pattern. Use knife to cut an "X" shaped slit in the top. Repeat for each pasty.

Place the pastys on a greased baking sheet. Lightly coat each pasty with an eggwash using a basting brush.

Cook for about 50 minutes, or until golden brown, and let cool!

[the-most-humble-blog]

🧠 🌹 💔

Between Boundaries: Revisiting the Underappreciated Anatomy (Pt. 2)

— A Loofah-Laced, Shame-Crushing, Gender-Neutral Awakening of Soft Satire

👋 Welcome back, you brave, slippery-souled, velvet-creviced pioneers.

You made it to Part Two.

That means one of three things:

You’re still processing Part One, spiritually exfoliated but emotionally confused.

You’ve looked in the mirror, whispered "Forgive me," and patted your gooch like a pet you forgot to feed.

Or… you’re new here. In which case—strap in, scrub up, and take your pants off metaphorically. Or literally. That’s between you and your office chair.

🧠 Let’s Recap:

You have a perineum. It’s not a “guy thing.” It’s not a “medical term.” It’s a biological border town between Heaven’s Gate and Devil’s Doorbell. And ignoring it doesn’t make you progressive. It makes you… crusty.

💀 Why Part Two Exists

Because one post wasn’t enough. Because your subconscious asked for more. Because when a thousand women reblogged Part One with confessions like:

“Why did this make me feel something?” “I didn’t expect to cry over my gooch today.” “No one ever told me I had one.”

…it was no longer satire. It became public service. Cultural CPR. An anatomical awakening.

And like all great awakenings?

It starts with discomfort… and ends with better soap.

🧽 The Spiritual Function of the Gooch

Let’s cut the mystic bullshit and break it down:

Your gooch is:

A tension valve

A nerve-dense shame sponge

A sensor of heat, wetness, and danger

A forgotten bridge between core and cavity

And most importantly?

A neurological trigger zone for grounding.

Yes. Grounding. As in: when you finally feel it, you’re forced to admit—

“Oh. This is real. This is me. This is my body.”

No ring light. No affirmations. No 9-step skincare routine. Just flesh. Damp. Vulnerable. Yours.

👃 The Feminine Funk: Why It Terrifies and Arouses

You ever notice how a woman can:

Light a candle with a “peony champagne” scent,

Mist herself in vanilla sugar,

Carry 12 crystals and a tote bag full of confidence…

…and still feel uncomfortable in her own scent?

That’s not body odor. That’s generational denial.

The gooch—the taint, the fleshbridge, the sin stripe—is where insecurity marinated during every tampon commercial.

Where your gym leggings collected secrets your therapist couldn’t extract.

🔬 Clinically Proven Gooch Phenomena

The “Silent Shriek” The body knows when you ignore it. Women who consciously acknowledge their perineum report lower shame, higher sexual confidence, and stronger boundaries. (See: PubMed Study 2339-DG-TNT: “Embodied Female Neutral Zones and Emotional Reclamation”)

Mirror Trauma Loop Most women zoom in on tits, hips, or ass in the mirror—but skip the strip between. That’s not feminism. That’s Photoshop syndrome.

Scent-Reality Dissonance If the smell of your gooch triggers more shame than curiosity, your self-love is curated—not authentic.

🩸 The Feminist Hypocrisy Nobody Talks About

You say you’re empowered. You reclaim words like "slut" and "bitch" and even wear them like a badge. But ask if women have a taint?

Watch the room get silent.

Watch her stutter. Watch her deflect. Watch her shame recoil faster than a conservative uncle at Pride.

✨ Psychosexual Reclamation: The Ritual You Didn’t Know You Needed

Tonight. No music. No bath bombs. Just you and a mirror.

Lift one leg.

Gaze into the space between pride and panic.

Say:

“You were never ugly. You were just undocumented. You are mine. You are not a secret. You are my sacred hallway. You are moist but mighty. You are enough.”

🧬 Gendered Terminology Be Gone: New Labels to Equalize the Flesh Frontier

Choose your fighter:

The Liminal Ridge

The Velvet Fold

Goochlight Sonata

Shame Dam #4

WAP Buffering Zone

No Man’s Land (But Yours)

The Pause Between Pokes™

The Rorschach Strip

The Whisper Mat

📉 Cultural Bias Breakdown

🧼 Hygiene As Resistance

You want to “reclaim your body?”

Don’t start with nipple pasties and protest slogans.

Start with a washcloth. Get under there. Lift. Swipe. Moisturize. Whisper its name. If your taint can’t trust you with a lather… how can your spirit?

🧘 Final Affirmation

You are not just legs and holes. You are not just tits and politics. You are a unified, weirdly moist, shame-defiant miracle of evolutionary persistence.

And your perineum is the eye of the storm.

Wash it. Own it. Whisper to it.

📩 DM if you didn’t expect your “middle zone” to spiritually wake up mid-scroll.

💬 Comment if you used the term “gooch” today for the first time in your life.

🔁 Reblog if you believe this is the final frontier of true gender equality.

👀 Tag the friend who still thinks “taint” is a guys-only thing.

✂️ Drop a ✂️ in the tags if Part 1 made you buy exfoliating gloves.

⚖️ Legal Disclaimer:

This post is satire, gender-neutral hygiene theology, and cultural parody. It is educational, spiritually protected, and constitutionally blessed under the First Amendment and the Unspoken Law of the Loofah.

If you're offended?

That’s not shame.

That’s your gooch waking up.

Welcome home.

[olderthannetfic]

On the vitiligo thing- I'm a pasty white bitch and I have vitiligo speckles AND cafr au lait spots (sometimes ppl call it Reverse Vitiligo bc it makes darker spots, at least on white/pale ppl). I have been told point blank that I "can't" have vitiligo or anything *like* vitiligo because I'm white and pale. Like ????? It's a skin condition. Anyone can get it. It's like saying POC with darker skin can't get sunburns or sun spots bc of their darker skin. Just pure stupidity.

--

[princess-glassred]

Genderbent Henry Bowers design

I wanted to make a book accurate Henrietta Bowers because everytime people draw female henry they always do IT 2017 henry, they also always make her too pretty and never draw her old, so I'M here to show you my female Henry Bowers. I simply hate it when people take ugly male characters and make them pretty as girls, especially when those characters are meant to look a certain way due to neglect or lifestyle changes.

I love henrietta, wretched little bitch. I bet she's known as the ugliest girl in their grade. She's oddly tall and muscular in a way that intimidates most boys, she doesn't know how to do make up or dress properly because her mother left when she was so young and butch can never get her clothes that match or fit, her skirts usually caked with grass stains, mud, or even manure from working on the farm all the time, she keeps her hair tied up in those braids in her meager attempts to look pretty, missing teeth, bruises always peaking out under her ruffled skirts everytime she runs, poor girl is such a mess.

I might draw Patricia Hockstetter, Vicky Criss, Regina Huggins, Gardenia Jagermeyer, and Penny Gorden some other time. I'm sure they're all equally awkward looking, i keep envisioning Patricia as just a really fat 12 year old girl with pasty skin and greasy black hair that never showers, she's often mistaken for a guy because of how gross looking and large her hands are. I love weird girls so much.

Personality wise Henrietta is definitely not a girls girl, she has so much internalized mysoginy she acts and talks like a dude most of them time and everyone finds it a little offputting. Vicky calls her "Etta go getta" in a similar way to how Vic calls Henry Hank the tank in the book. When it comes to boys she has a a rough time with them, she gets crushes like every other girl but she beats up the boys she gets a crush on more than the ones she doesn't. As sad as it is she's really just copying her father because the only reference she has for how to treat a partner is beating them, and if SHE doesn't do the beating then she might be the one getting hit. I think Butch probably treats her like a second wife at times, making her cook and clean without much thought. If any of the other gals found out about this she's never live it down.

Maybe some other time i'll draw Billie Denbrough, Rachel Tozier, Ellie Kaspbrak, Bonn(ie) Hanscom, Barney Marsh, Stacey Uris, and Micheala Hanlon. <3.