#obsessed with this with every fiber of my being

[talesofkhaos]

Spencer, on the other hand, was captivated by Oliver's vulnerability and saw in it a reflection of his own hidden desires. He longed to immerse Oliver in the depths of his own darkness, to explore the shadows together and emerge stronger for it. Spencer wished to guide Oliver into a world where their fears and passions could coexist, where they could both find solace and strength in each other's presence. "Together, we can face the storm," Spencer whispered, recalling a line from his favorite novel about finding light in the darkest places. He believed that by embracing their vulnerabilities, they could forge an unbreakable bond, one that transcended the superficial facades they both wore. This journey into the unknown was not just about confronting fears but about discovering the power of their shared connection. Spencer knew that by pursuing this path, he was venturing into dangerous territory, but the thrill of it all was intoxicating. He was consumed by his love for Oliver, yearning to feel him in every fiber of his being. The idea of their darkness intertwining ignited a hunger in him that he couldn't resist, a desire to lose himself in the chaos and passion they could create together.

From the moment they met on their first date, Spencer was entranced by Oliver's enigmatic aura. He didn't care about the secrets Oliver held; in fact, he found them alluring, like hidden treasures waiting to be uncovered. Spencer wanted all of Oliver—his beauty, his darkness, and his light—to consume him entirely, to become one with the essence of Oliver Bloom's soul. The desire Spencer felt for Oliver Bloom was all-encompassing, an insatiable craving that transcended mere attraction. It was a deep, unyielding need to unravel every layer of Oliver's being, to understand his complexities and to be fully immersed in his world. This longing was not just physical but spiritual, a magnetic pull that drew Spencer closer to the very heart of Oliver's enigmatic soul. Within weeks of their decision to be exclusive, the intensity of Spencer's hunger for Oliver only deepened. He was consumed by an insatiable desire to know every facet of Oliver, to explore the depths of his mind and soul as if they were uncharted territories. Spencer yearned for the moment when he could claim Oliver fully, to become so intertwined with him that their very beings fused into one.

Their relationship had evolved into something intensely possessive, a consuming obsession that bound them together like two celestial bodies caught in each other's gravitational pull. Spencer loved the way they lost themselves in each other, the way their passion blazed like a relentless fire. "We are like two gods, shaping our universe with every touch, whisper, breath we share." Yet, amidst the consuming passion and fiery intensity, there were also tender moments of tranquility between them. They would sit on the couch, Spencer reading softly to Oliver, their shared silence speaking volumes. These gentle interludes were cherished by Spencer, but it was the times when they lost themselves to their darker desires that truly captivated him, when their souls danced on the edge of chaos and creation.

Spencer captured Oliver's lips with a fervent kiss, pouring all his longing and possessiveness into the embrace. Pulling back slightly, he met Oliver's gaze with a fierce intensity. "And I won't let anyone else have you," Spencer declared, his voice a low, determined whisper, "You're mine, now and always." "You've always belonged to me," Spencer continued, his eyes never leaving Oliver's. "Even before we met, my soul was searching for yours, waiting for the moment when our paths would finally cross." He paused, a soft smile playing on his lips as he whispered, "It's as if we were destined, two halves of the same soul finally reunited." From the moment Spencer laid eyes on Oliver, he felt a profound sense of completion, as if a missing piece of his soul had finally been found. In Oliver, Spencer saw everything he had ever desired, and he never dared to look at anyone else or crave anyone else's presence. It was as though Spencer's heart had been waiting its entire life for this one person, and now that he had found Oliver, he was resolute in his belief that their connection was preordained.

Spencer's breath hitched at Oliver's words, his heart swelling with a fierce, possessive joy. He could feel the rapid thrum of Oliver's heartbeat under his palm, an intoxicating rhythm that matched the urgency in his own chest. "I can feel it," he murmured, eyes dark with desire, "It's like a symphony just for me." Leaning closer, he added with a teasing grin, "And as for your promise, well, I want to savor every inch of you, like a feast for the senses." "Just as you're mine, I'm completely yours, heart and soul," Spencer reassured, his voice filled with unwavering devotion. "I think of you every moment, Oliver, consuming my thoughts, my every breath. In my mind, I see you reaching into my chest, ripping out my heart, and devouring it whole, as if you were made to possess every part of me." The image of Oliver covered in him, both physically and emotionally, sent a shiver of anticipation through Spencer's body. He could almost see it—a vivid mental picture of Oliver embracing every facet of their connection, consuming his heart with an insatiable hunger. The thought alone was enough to stir something deep within Spencer, a fiery arousal that left him breathless and yearning for more.

Spencer had always been more comfortable expressing his feelings through actions rather than words. He knew Oliver might be waiting for those three simple words. However, Spencer hoped his gestures—the way he lingered in Oliver's embrace, the thoughtful surprises he left for him, and the unwavering support during tough times—conveyed the depth of his affection. Spencer's heart raced at the thought of saying "I love you," a phrase he'd never uttered before. However, he believed that in every shared moment, Oliver could feel the truth of his unspoken love. Spencer was pleasing Oliver in such a vulnerable and intimate way, he didn't feel it was the right moment to voice his feelings. He feared that the words might somehow cheapen the sincerity of the connection they shared in that instant. Instead, he chose to let his actions and the tenderness of the moment speak for themselves.

Spencer paused for a moment, his breath hot against Oliver's skin, before murmuring, "Trust me, these marks will remind you who you belong to." His voice was low and filled with promise, sending another wave of shivers down Oliver's spine. As he resumed his teasing, Spencer's fingers dug into Oliver's hips, determined to leave bruises that would linger long after the night was over. Spencer paused his ministrations, shifting slightly to sink his teeth gently but firmly into Oliver's hip. A sharp gasp escaped Oliver as a small bead of blood welled up at the bite, only for Spencer to tenderly lick it away. Pulling back, Spencer admired the mark he'd left, feeling a surge of possessiveness as he traced the indentations with his fingers, appreciating the sight of his own imprint on Oliver's skin. Spencer growled at Oliver's bold words, his eyes darkening with a mix of amusement and desire. "Careful, Oliver," he warned, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against Oliver's skin. "You know what happens when you call me pretty." With renewed determination, Spencer intensified his efforts, drawing out a series of broken moans from Oliver's lips, each one a testament to the power he held over him.

Spencer couldn't help but revel in the symphony of sounds Oliver was creating, each moan and gasp a testament to the effect he had on him. The sheer vulnerability and rawness of Oliver's voice only fueled Spencer's desire to elicit more of those beautiful noises, wishing he could capture them and replay them endlessly. Every whimper and cry was a victory, a reminder of the power he wielded, and he vowed to keep drawing those heavenly sounds from Oliver for as long as he could. Spencer leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Oliver's ear as he whispered, "I want to hear you, Oliver. I want to hear you cry out my name." His words were a command, and the intensity in his voice left no room for disobedience. With each movement, Spencer drove Oliver closer to the edge, desperate to hear the ultimate confirmation of who Oliver belonged to. Spencer's desire for control stemmed from a deep-seated need to feel indispensable to Oliver, to be the singular source of his pleasure and satisfaction. He was possessive of Oliver because, in his eyes, Oliver represented a unique vulnerability and trust that Spencer craved to protect and dominate. This control wasn't just about power; it was about an intense connection, a way to bind Oliver to him in a way that transcended physical touch and delved into the very essence of their relationship. Spencer felt a surge of satisfaction as he watched Oliver's reaction, knowing he had pushed him to the brink and back. The sight of Oliver's flushed cheeks and trembling body filled Spencer with a sense of pride and fulfillment. This was the connection he craved—the harmonious blend of power, trust, and intimacy that only they could share.

Spencer positioned himself carefully, aligning with Oliver's entrance, and pushed his length forward with gentle yet deliberate ease. He paused momentarily, allowing Oliver the time to adjust, watching the subtle shifts in his expression for any signs of discomfort. The moment he heard Oliver moan, a smirk tugged at Spencer's lips. Spencer knew he had just crossed another threshold of intimacy and trust. "I'm glad to hear that," Spencer murmured, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he brought a hand down sharply on Oliver's backside, causing him to gasp and arch his back. "Now show me just how good you can be." Oliver's eyes fluttered shut as he surrendered himself to the rhythm, letting Spencer guide him into a euphoric dance that only they understood. The pleasure built between them, an electric current that coursed through their bodies. Oliver's grip tightened around Spencer's length, drawing a groan from him as the intensity heightened. Spencer's hands took hold of Oliver's hips, guiding and urging him to move in sync with his rhythm, even as his fingers pressed hard enough to leave marks. When Oliver faltered, Spencer delivered a swift spank, a reminder to keep pace, and the sharp sound echoed through the room, mingling with their shared breaths and moans.

Spencer's heart raced wildly, each beat resonating with the intensity of the moment. His breathing grew heavier, matching the fervor of their movements, as he leaned closer to Oliver's ear. "Come on, you little fucker," he taunted with a playful yet commanding tone, "where's that attitude now? Show me that brat I know you can be." Spencer tightened his grip on Oliver's hips, guiding him firmly onto his length, and leaned in to whisper, "Ride me like you love it, like I'm the only one you want." His voice held a commanding edge, making it clear that this wasn't merely a suggestion—it was an order. Spencer's mind was overwhelmed by the sensation of Oliver's tightness enveloping him, each movement drawing him deeper into a world of raw, unbridled passion. As Oliver rode him with increasing fervor, Spencer marveled at the way their bodies moved in perfect unison. This was a testament to their trust and connection. The slick warmth of their combined juices heightened every thrust, intensifying the pleasure and driving him crazy.

"Yes, like that, you fucking little shit," Spencer growled, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he helped Oliver bounce on his length. "Show me who your god is." Spencer's voice was a low growl as he urged Oliver on, "Ride me so hard you'll forget what it's like to be anywhere else but here, with me." His words were a promise, a challenge, and a plea all at once. "I want to feel you in my bones, in my fucking soul," he continued, his grip unyielding as they moved together, lost in a world that was theirs alone. Spencer's moans mingled with Oliver's as he thrust upwards, desperate to intensify the pleasure coursing through both of them. "Come on, baby boy, make me fucking cum," he urged, his voice raw with need. "I'm dying to fill you up." Their bodies moved in perfect harmony as Spencer's hand tightened on Oliver's hips, urging him to take everything he had to give.

Oliver knows he’s intense with his affection for Spencer. he’s been enamored with him since the moment they had met and he couldn’t stop the way he fell for him- it wasn’t even like falling, it was more like . . . he walked into love with Spencer, no falling involved. he had walked so casually into it, fully and expectant, he knew what he was in for the moment they shared their first kiss. it was addictive and serene in its own way- something Oliver had decided he was going to need more of for the rest of his life. after their first kiss, Oliver decided that Spencer was meant to be his. they were to belong together forevermore. maybe he hadn’t quite realized it at the time, but now as he’s staring his lover in the eye, seeing the love reflected there, he knows this was always meant to be. there was no better person for Oliver than Spencer. out of all the people he’s seen and all the people he’s dated, no one’s ever quite matched him in his intensity. the professor was a close second and in fact, Oliver had loved him in his own way, but it was nothing in comparison to his love for Spencer. whenever they are together, everything seems to fall right into place; everything seems so right. there’s nowhere else on this earth he’d rather be than right here in Spencer’s arms.

of course, his obsession stems from the fear of being left behind and Oliver knows that. he knows he’s terrified of losing Spencer, so he clings to him in hopes that maybe if he’s a good partner, than maybe Spencer won’t even consider leaving him. it’s an unhealthy habit that his psychiatrist has warned him about, but for whatever reason, he can’t seem to shake the need to please. he wants to make Spencer happy, so happy that he never wants to leave, and if that’s obsessive and possessive, then so be it. Oliver knows that Spencer feels the same way- or at least, feels something similar. they share an intensity for each other that no one else can possibly compare to. their love is more than ephemeral- it is eternal. it would make the gods envious, for they’ve never held onto a love as powerful as theirs. only stories could ever replicate what they have and even then, they couldn’t possible understand how it feels to be this much in love with someone. Spencer is his- he belongs to Oliver, and Oliver belongs to him.

Oliver understands the darkness in Spencer more than he’d probably like to openly admit. while discussion has been minimal, they’re both aware of the darkness of each other and they welcome it with open arms. Oliver had seen Spencer’s darkness when they met- he could see it just behind his playful gaze and knew what he was getting himself into after he initiated a second kiss, pushing the boundaries of just two strangers falling into each other into something much deeper. their relationship blossomed that day in the coffee shop- something magical had come into play and they had found each other when they had least expected it- or at least Oliver hadn’t expected it. being in love with Spencer was probably the best thing to ever happen to him. he remembers that night, their first date, when Spencer decided to cook for him instead of taking him out- Oliver had been grateful, because he didn’t do well with people staring at him, and he was afraid of being the center of attention yet again. so instead, they were planning to have dinner at Spencer’s place, a calming and quiet atmosphere that was interrupted when Spencer cut his finger and Oliver had taken his finger into his hands and stuck his finger into his mouth. he hadn’t even thought about it, he just did it. he could feel the tension thickening in the room as he looked up to meet Spencer’s gaze and could see a raw hunger there that matched his own. that’s when Oliver knew for certain that this was it for him. Spencer was going to be his everything.

when Oliver kissed Spencer back, he made sure it was as hungry as he perceived it to be. he wanted to show how much he wanted Spencer- how much he had actually missed him. he wanted Spencer to know that he craved his presence more than anything in this world and now that he was home, he couldn’t imagine a better case scenario. while the situation hadn’t been as ideal as he’d have liked, it lead him straight to where he wanted to be and that’s all that matters- here, he’s in Spencer’s arms, and that’s all he really wanted. he breathes out a needy sigh, eyes watching Spencer as he speaks, licking at his lips in wanton anticipation. “i wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s,” he promises, voice thick with emotion. “you’re all i want. you’re everything i want.”

Oliver’s stomach fills with butterflies at the intensity of Spencer’s words, a low whine emerging from the back of his throat. he couldn’t help it- he’s aroused by the sound of Spencer’s voice and hearing him plan his murder sends more shivers down his spine, but in the best kind of way. he knows Spencer wouldn’t actually hurt him, but the idea is exhilarating. he’s fascinated with every single word that passes through his lips, licking at his own in anticipation. “my heart is all yours,” he tells him like a promise as he forces Spencer’s hand to his chest, letting him feel the beat of his heart. it beats rapidly for him, only for Spencer. he wonders if he could feel the way it accelerates with desire, wanting him in every way he possibly can. he wants to show his devotion to Spencer, by giving him a piece of himself, and by giving up his heart and his body, he’s reassured that Spencer knows just how much he loves him, even if he has yet to speak those words.

it wasn’t until Spencer left for this case that Oliver finally realized that maybe it was love. at first, he wasn’t so sure- he knew he fell fast and hard, but he’d been in such denial; he didn’t want to rush into things, but their relationship blossomed on that first day, and all they’ve done is rush into things. Oliver knew with Spencer’s absence that he loved him, had plans to tell him as such, too, but then Oliver had fallen asleep and then the injury . . . and now really isn’t the time to profess his undying devotion with words. ‘i love you’ will just have to wait another time. he doesn’t want to ruin this moment of intense lovemaking with three words that might -that would- catch Spencer off guard. there’s also the fear that Spencer won’t take it well . . . and well, Oliver just isn’t prepared for the possibility of rejection. it scares him to say ‘i love you’, but he feels it so strongly in his chest, he’s bursting with love for Spencer; he’s overflowing, and eventually, he’s not going to be able to stop it from spilling over. soon. soon.

hearing Spencer’s words sends another wave of pleasure throughout his body, another shiver down his spine as he gasps out loud, it’s almost embarrassing how he squirms at the words, a low whine emitting from his throat. he hates what Spencer’s voice does to him, and hearing him saying that he’s going to bite him only intensifies his arousal. he’s so hard, it’s almost painful. Spencer knows exactly what he’s doing and he does it so fucking well, it drives Oliver fucking crazy. he shakes his head in an attempt to banish the desire he feels, but it’s of no use as Spencer continues to tease him, using his godforsaken mouth on him like he’s done it a thousand times. Oliver knows he’s losing his will to fight, but he’s so goddamn stubborn that he refuses to give in until he has no choice but to do just that. “if you’re going to bite me, you better leave a mark. i want to wake up with bruises,” he tells him, his voice filled with such raw desire, he spills it out all over the floor. he doesn’t care that he’s giving in to his pleasure at this point- he wants Spencer to see just how much he wants him, how much he’s driving him crazy, he wants him to see it all.

another gasp is heard as Spencer continues his teasing, his mouth now on him. Oliver’s eyes roll to the back of his head with pleasure, letting his head fall back onto the pillow, an unfiltered moan leaving his lips. he knows he’s loud- his throat has a tendency to go raw after their vicious lovemaking and it takes him days to recover every single time, but he doesn’t care. he’d rather lose his voice than give up this kind of pleasure- the kind of pleasure that only Spencer can give. “so pretty,” he agrees, straining with his binds as he looks down at Spencer. “the prettiest boy i’ve ever seen.” then, he kind of grins, a lopsided grin, as if he wasn’t the one being a brat this entire time. “you’re especially pretty like this, sucking me off.” he likes the arrogance- it sends another thrill of pleasure down his spine. he tries to hold back another moan, digging his teeth into his bottom lip in an effort to keep the sound out. instead, he breathes quietly, watching Spencer with a familiar hunger in his eye. “i’ll be good,” he promises again, just to show that he can be.

a surprised moan erupts from him as Spencer’s tongue is suddenly at his entrance, toying with him. he squirms again, the warmth of Spencer’s tongue inside of him drives him crazy, and he can’t help the sounds that leave his mouth, no matter how hard he tries to keep them at bay. Inevitably, he bites down too hard on his lip and busts it back open, blood dripping into his mouth. the sweet taste of his own blood combined with the pleasure of Spencer’s tongue thrusting in and out of him is almost too much for him to bear, his breathing shallow. “fuck-” he says, his voice already sounding raw from all the noises he’s made. it won’t take much for him to lose his voice and he anticipates the eagerness of it all. he wants to lose himself to the pleasure and if that includes losing his voice, then so be it. he doesn’t need it, yet he clears his throat anyways, as if the lubrication from his mouth will help the dryness of it.

as if it couldn’t get any better, suddenly Spencer was administrating a finger, teasing at his entrance with the tip. Oliver, eager as ever, tries to roll his hips downwards to encourage him to just do it already. once that finger is inside of him, Oliver let’s out a few more sounds that he knows Spencer will enjoy. Spencer always has enjoyed it when Oliver gets loud and proud about his pleasure, making sure he knows that he’s doing a good job. “fuck-” he whimpers again, nails biting his palms again. with nowhere to grab other than his own skin, he feels another trickle of blood, unable to resist the temptation of digging in to his own skin. usually, Spencer’s back would be taking the brunt of his aggressive loving, but with his hands tied up, it leaves Oliver no choice but to dig into his own flesh. it’s too bad, really, because he loves leaving his mark on Spencer, a proud indication of what they’d done the night before. he’ll just have to make up for it next time.

with each thrust of Spencer’s finger, Oliver can feel himself coming undone. his legs quiver at the motion, each sound leaving his lips, repetitive like a broken record. his throat hurts from the exertion of his vocal chords, but he doesn’t seem to care as he ensures Spencer knows how much he appreciates what he’s doing. he wants to show him just how good he feels, his hips rocking a little with each thrust. then, Spencer adds another finger and it’s heavensent, forcing Oliver to lay back down as he’s assaulted with pleasure. he can barely understand that Spencer is saying as he talks to him in that husky voice of his; his abandoned cock leaking with evident desire, it throbs, missing Spencer’s touch. “please, Spencer-” he begs finally; finally giving the man what he wanted as he continues to fight the restraints keeping his hands from exploring, from touching. he hates that he can’t do anything, stuck in this position and forced to take whatever it is that Spencer wants to give him. it’s both arousing and frustrating at the same time.

his breath hitches when Spencer picks up pace, his eyes rolling with pleasure yet again. he shouts Spencer’s name, high-pitched and filled with evident love and emotion, he can’t seem to be able to control it. pleasure wracks his body as he moans, his toes curling again. it feels so good, he doesn’t want it to ever end. but of course, it does come to an end and when Spencer pulls his fingers out of him, Oliver can feel the loss of being filled up, a low whine leaving the back of his throat. he wants to complain about it, to tell Spencer to keep going, but when he lifts his head to do just that, he watches as Spencer places his fingers into his mouth, and he watches with fascination as he licks them clean. the sight makes his mouth water. he whimpers lowly and lets his head fall back against the pillow, succumbing to his reality. but before he has a chance to really just settle with his punishment, Spencer is untying him from the bedpost and pulling him on top of him and he’s left shocked yet again.

“Spencer-” he breathes, his voice shaky as he settles onto his knees, looking down at him with desire mirrored in his eyes. “i-” he cuts himself off abruptly as Spencer aligns his body with Oliver’s and pushes inside of him, a surprised moan leaving his lips as he shifts his body, his arms tightening their hold around Spencer’s neck. the sudden fulfillment is almost too much for Oliver to bear, choked up as tears prick at the corners of his eyes once again. but it doesn’t take him long to get used to the feeling of Spencer inside of him, slowly sitting more comfortably on top of him. “you’re an asshole,” he mutters just as Spencer begins to move his hips, Oliver letting out a low moan. then, he’s moving his hands to place them on top of Spencer’s chest, holding himself up as he shifts his hips a little, his breath loud. “you want me to be a good boy?” he asks after a moment, panting slightly. “t-to listen to you?” slowly, he begins to rock his hips in rhythm with Spencer’s, unbridled sounds erupting from within the walls of his chest. he picks up the pace slowly, effectively fucking himself on Spencer’s length, another shiver down his spine. “fuck- o-okay. i’ll be-i’ll be a good boy.”

[starrysharks]

reassassination's resident yuri devil

[orchideae]

We don't look at me, we don't perceive me, we don't ask questions about why this is happening right now, we simply— accept it. But Guizhong is returning and will run on low activity, alongside Yelan who will have most of my focus still. I'll be a little picky on her (her resurrection verse will also still be around) and I will resume any threads people may still be interested in writing. So if you see a little lord of dust appear in your following list (again), know it's just little 'ole me.

[mysticruinedme]

thinking about how my favorite color has been purple for like two years now and that’s literally only because that’s the color of knuckles’ eyes and i think. they’re really pretty…

[araneitela]

This is so incredibly important for everyone to know about Kafka, if you didn't know/notice the nuance(s) of her voice already. And a little bonus: if you want to know why I die, please pay special attention after 0:20.

[dain-e]

i don't need no time travel fix-its when my life be running in circles

[anxietywriter]

distance

i miss you

do you miss me too?

were you just passing time?

wondering what lovers do?

darling i am enamored with the stars

and i saw them in you

darling tell me

are we destined

to be the sun and moon?

[king-midas-fortnite]

hi kado said to flirt with you teehee hiii :3

I'm sure he did.

Keeping a personal item of mine close isn't enough, he just has to send you back to bother me.

@pea-bois Will the other two of you please wake up and take the phone before I lose my temper?

[raelinkun]

Please check out this cute pin!! He's just a rad little guy!

[mariasont]

A Puddle in Running Shoes A.H.

summary: your boyfriend finds out you have a praise kink and is having way too much fun with that information

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: some suggestive content, hotch being a menace, reader having a praise kink, end suggests something may happen but nothing explicit in this one folks im getting my libido under control swear, also count how many times r refers to hotch's face as stupid im crying

wc: 1.9k

You hated running. No—loathed it. Detested it. Despised it with every fiber of your being. If there was a stronger word, one that captured the burning, irrational rage you felt whenever someone suggested going for a jog, Spencer might have known it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to ask. Simply put, running was not your thing.

But when Aaron—your boyfriend and somehow the most persistent man alive—asked you to join you on a run, you couldn't exactly say no. He didn't beg—Aaron Hotchner did not beg—but his version of asking, that soft it'd mean a lot to me paired with an encouraging smile, was close enough to begging in your book. Besides, you figured there'd be some sort of reward when you got back home. Aaron was good at those.

So here you were, contributing absolutely nothing to your marathon-obsessed, fitness-loving FBI boyfriend's training. Sweat coated every inch of your body, your legs felt like lead, and your lungs burned with every ragged breath you managed to suck in. The sun blazed overhead, making you feel more like a roasting chicken than a willing participant in this so-called fun activity.

Aaron, on the other hand, looked like he'd stepped out of a fitness ad—shirt clinging to him in ways that felt outright scandalous. Even the sweat on his face somehow made him look even more attractive.

He was at least ten paces ahead of you and every few steps, he'd glance over his shoulder, probably checking to make sure you hadn't spontaneously combusted or snuck off to find an air-conditioned cafe. Honestly, both were real possibilities.

Aaron's pace slowed until he was running beside you, throwing you a smile so unfairly handsome it made your legs feel weaker than they already did.

"How are you feeling?" The question felt retorical—anyone, profiler or not, was sure to be able to read you like an open book right now. "Still alive, or do I need to start figuring out the best way to carry you home without breaking any traffic laws?"

"I think I'm alive," you managed between gasps, wiping sweat from your brow. "But if carrying me is on the table, I'm not above playing dead to make that happen."

"Not necessary—I'd carry you anyway, if only to reward you for keeping up this long. You're doing great."

You foot caught a crack in the pavement, nearly hurling yourself into it, but Aaron's hand was there quicker keeping you upright as you tried to ignore the terrifying way your body had reacted to his compliment.

"Okay you can't just say stuff like that while I'm trying to run," you blurted out, avoiding his gaze. "You're trying to kill me, I swear."

You planted your hands on your hips, still trying to catch your breath, secretly relieved to have a break—even if it almost involved a face-first meeting with the sidewalk.

"Stuff like what?" He tugged at your ponytail and you swatted his hand.

"Nothing," you said way too quickly, shaking your head like you could physically toss what you said aside. "Forget I said anything. Let's just... keep running."

You quickly realized your mistake as soon as you started jogging again. You would never willingly suggest to keep running. Unfortunately, Aaron was actively aware of this, moving to come up beside you. You didn't need to look at him to know he had the stupidest smirk on his face.

He didn't say anything at first, to your immediate relief, just kept jogging beside you. The silence stretched on, his calm breathing only seeming to make your wheezing sound worse.

"You're breathing too shallow," he said after a moment, his tone completely casual like he wasn't even winded. "Try to take deeper breaths—match them to your strides. It'll make it easier."

You glanced towards him out of the corner of your eye before attempting his suggestion. You had no intention of letting him know that it worked. His ego was far too substantial for that.

"See? You're a natural," he said, shooting you a sidelong glance. "Atta girl."

Your brain flatlined and you almost tripped over your feet again, every rational thought replaced by static. What was wrong with you? You vaguely remembered reading somewhere that people with unresolved daddy issues were prone to developing praise kinks. Was that what this was? Whatever the reason, hearing Aaron talk like that shouldn't make you feel all gooey inside, but here you were, a puddle in running shoes.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yup, fine!"

You stared at the ground so intensely, it was a miracle you didn't bore a hole into the pavement. Your voice had betrayed you, far too shaky and way too rushed, and you knew Aaron was probably filing away every bit of your reaction.

"Hey," he said softly, his hand brushing against the back of your neck as he spoke. "Stop staring at the ground. You'll run better if you keep your head up—it'll open your chest so you can breathe easier."

His hand lingered for a second too long than what your body could handle, leaving you completely flustered and fighting every urge to do exactly the opposite of what he said.

"There you go," he murmured, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. "That's good, honey. Just like that."

His voice—his god forsaken voice—was like a jolt to your system, and not in a good way. Or maybe it was a good way, which was the problem. It was bad enough to hearing it out here, on the jogging trail, but your brain decided to replay it in an entirely different inappropriate context: one that involved you, him, and a bed.

Your face burned, and you couldn't tell if it was from the exertion, or the very real possibility that your body was too receptive to those words. And now, not only were you fighting for every breath, but you were trying to figure out if the dampness between your legs was entirely from sweat. Surely it was sweat. Right? Gods, you hoped it was sweat.

You stopped so suddenly that Aaron jogged a few steps ahead before he realized you were not longer beside him.

"Okay, I'm calling it. I'm done. Can we please go home now?"

He jogged back to you, an easy smile on his face, and placed his hands on your shoulders as he reached you.

"Alright, we can be done," he teased, thumbs brushing lightly over your collarbones. "You survived, and you did great. I'm proud of you."

He leaned down then, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips that made the ache in your body a little easier to ignore.

When he pulled away, you barely managed to keep standing.

Aaron let out a low laugh, his hands squeezing your shoulders. "Alright. What's going on? What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said over your shoulder, practically power walking towards the car.

Aaron's laugh deepened and you ignored the funny feeling curling in your chest.

"Sweetheart," he said, gently tugging your elbow to slow you down. "Come on, talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about, I'm fine!" You avoided his eyes as you tugged your elbow free. "I'm just tired, and, uh, need a shower."

A cold shower, your brain screamed, but you shoved the thought down.

"I know, I know you're tired," he said, lips curving into a smile, "but that's because you actually pushed yourself. I'm proud of you for sticking with it."

You were pretty convinced you were you were about to go up in flames. Your obituary would read death by too many unnecessary compliments. When your heart inevitably gave out, Aaron would have to explain to Rossi and the others how his dumb smile and sweet words had resulted in second degree manslaughter.

But then you saw it—the smirk. The one that said he absolutely knew what he was doing.

"Oh my gosh, you know!" You groaned and threw your hands in the air. "You know, and you're enjoying this!"

Spinning away from him, you stormed to the car, and slammed the door like it might shield you from his stupidly smug face.

You barely had time to exhale before the passenger door swung open, revealing Aaron, casually leaning against the car.

"You know," he said lightly, his tone far too casual for your liking, "slamming car doors isn't a great habit. You could hurt yourself."

"And you know," you snapped back, pointing at him, "torturing your girlfriend isn't a great habit either!"

He leaned in slowly, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as he grabbed your seatbelt. As he clicked it into place, his face lingered close to yours.

"I wasn't trying to torture you, baby. Just wanted to give you the chance to admit it—that you liked it."

Before you could muster a reply, Aaron's hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb moving along your cheek. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was so deep, leaving you no choice but to sink into it, even as the faint remnants of your annoyance tried to surface.

By the time he pulled back, you felt like you were under his spell. Then, without another word, he shut your door and headed to the driver's side.

"That's not fair," you muttered, crossing your arms and pouting as you stared out the window.

Aaron's hand found the back of your neck as he backed out of the parking spot, rubbing gently into smooth circles.

"I don't mean to be unfair," he said with a small smile. "I just needed to hear it, because sometimes people don't even realize what they need until they say it out loud. And I wanted to make sure I didn't misread anything—though I'm rarely wrong, as you know."

"Trust me, you remind me every chance you get." Your tone was dry, but you were well aware that the twitch in your lip was giving you away.

"Alright, smartass," he said, chuckling as his fingers pressed a little firmer into your neck. "Now tell me—how does it make you feel when I say those things to you?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I don't know, okay? I just... like it! Do I have to explain it?"

"You don't have to explain it if you don't want to," he said, "but I'd like to know what it is you like so much."

Aaron's hand moved from your neck to your hand, his fingers sliding between each of yours while his eyes stayed glued to the road, a thing that only came from months of familiar motions.

You let out a long breath. "I don't know. I just like hearing it. It makes me feel good. Special, I guess."

"You are special, sweetheart." His eyes flicked to you before returning to the road. "You're my best girl."

Your stomach flipped violently. You shifted again, trying to disguise the way your thighs pressed together tightly as your face burned hotter than ever. The debate earlier in your head was officially over—absolutely not just sweat, you thought miserably.

Aaron let out a soft chuckle, fingers brushing over your knuckles. "Something I said?"

You swatted his shoulder, your glare losing all its bite thanks to the flush all over your body. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"I can't help it," he murmured, voice dipping just enough to get you on edge. "But don't worry—I'll take care of my best girl once we're home."

You slumped in your seat, muttering something unintelligible that made Aaron chuckle again. And even though you wouldn't admit it, you found yourself smiling, already dreading and anticipating whatever he had planned when you got home.

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[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.” 

[nightingale-prompts]

Godling-DCxDP prompt

Many don't understand what it's like to gaze into the abyss. To truly know the haunting moment it gazes back. Even fewer can see still stand to throw themselves into that abyss.

Tim never understood why cultists worship monstrosities, being that promised the end of everything for nothing in return. He had seen the remnants of human sacrifices, rituals gone wrong, and man-made horrors beyond human comprehension. Part of him regretted agreeing to partner with Constantine to solve these cases. But another wanted to know more.

After searching through another half-destroyed tome he found something. A location to a summoning circle, an ancient one that these cultists were searching for. The one they needed to finally successfully summon their god.

But they got there too late. The cult had finished their ritual and the "god" they had summoned stood before them.

That god was...perfect. Disgustingly perfect, dreadfully beautiful, and horrifyingly enchanting. His mind etched every detail in his memory. It felt like his mind had conjured this person from his dreams, day and night. It was like looking at an illusion. But his eyes were a hellishly bright Lazarus green.

The cultist bowed to him and his smile, his perfect unnaturally white smile was full of soft warmth. Tim understood at that moment why they worshipped him. Their minds couldn't escape this web of divine energy. They were so enraptured by finally seeing prove of the divine.

"You all have done enough. Your souls will come with me. To the abyss." He said calmly as he waved his hand and each cultist dissappeared.

He sighed softly as he turned his gave to Tim and John.

"You offed 'em? I thought they were your followers." Constantine said gruffly.

"I have no followers. These souls have caused so much damage to this world. They can't be allowed to stay here."

"So you decided to rapture them?" Constantine raised an eyebrow.

"It's complicated. Yes, they did horrible things but if they hadn't discovered the tomes of the old king they wouldn't have ended up this way. Have pity on them. They are just mortals scared and confused searching for meaning. Like I was. I have sent them to the abyss. Their souls with dissipate into the void. There will be no pain. No eternal punishment. Just an end. They will be at peace, I promise. It is what they want." The god's voice echoed, his features rippled as he moved showing afterimages of alternate forms he used.

It was odd. Every fiber of Tim's being screamed for him to bow, to worship, and to give himself to this being. Yet, his feet remained stubbornly planted on the ancient dusty floor.

"Don't look directly at it," Constantine whispered hissed.

Right. You probably shouldn't stare at the otherworldy being that likely has mind warping abilities. Especially one that just said he erased his own followers from existence and saying it was a good thing.

"I'm really sorry. I should make it up to you. Clockwork will be pissed enough that I interfereed so I have to do something to at least make up for this mess."

"You can kick off by doing one and buggering off" Constantine said immediately.

"So cold. How about you? What do you want?"

"I think an explanation would help," Tim said only to get elbowed by Constantine.

"You ain't gotta know nothing, mate. The more we know, the dodgier it gets." Constantine said firmly. "Whatever you are, you need to bugger off. You’ll wreck the noggins of everyone around you."

"I don't mean to. I don't ask people to become obsessed with me or worship me. Mortals have such weak minds they cave at my presence. But I can't help it. I lost my human body recently and can't turn this off."

The being groaned but to human ears it was similar to a purr.

"Seriously, everything I do is filtered through some sensory thing that makes you little mortals think its the greatest thing ever no matter how simple. Touching you would probably melt your brain with how good it would feel. So the trench coat man is probably right."

"You said you lost your human body. How?" Tim asked still staring at the floor as he felt the godling came closer.

"A bad fight. My mortal form wasn't indestructible but saving my family made it more than worth it. But...I haven't seen them since. Im still getting used to this while thing. I just wanted to reach out and find some answers so i reached into this universe and well...you can probably tell what happened next. I just wanted to make it right and fix it. The other ancients said this was the best option and..."

Every moment he spoke the less godly he seemed.

Constantine still wasn't willing to help and had to drag Tim away. When Tim actually tried to look up the fodling was gone.

"Never do that again." The brit said sternly. "Now help me clean this mess up."

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ dabi + taking care of you

18+ minors do not interact, toxic relationship, been thinking about this since my posture has been especially awful lately (*ﾉωﾉ)

today i’m thinking about dabi who actually really gives a fuck about your well-being, but has a bit of an odd way of showing it. 

dabi who runs a heated finger, just one degree too hot, up your curled spine, the scorching line he draws along your back snapping each vertebrae in its rightful place as it passes, his head dipping to murmur in your ear, commanding you to stand up straight, stupid.

dabi who slinks up behind you, soft, sly, to press calloused fingertips to the hinges of your jaw and grind, forcing the joints from their tight, locked position, his chin resting on the crown of your head. his voice vibrates against your back, comforting little tingles that seep past his ribs and snuggle into yours as he tells you to stop clenching, damn it; you’re gonna wear your molars down to sand. 

dabi who forcibly pulls you from the depths of your work, rough palms latching around your ribs and coarse fingertips sinking into the spaces between the bones, staining ten little prints of deep violet blotches into supple skin. s’enough of that, he’s demanding gruffly as he yanks you down onto the tattered couch with him, bony knuckles rubbing too-hard circles into your throbbing temples—knowing, already, the ache that’s been steadily building there. 

causticity twists his face at your responding wince, a pained whimper slipping from your lips, floating on a relieved sigh. i fuckin’ told ya, he spits out, concern masquerading as anger. y’been looking at that fuckin’ screen for too long. 

but his body softens as your own melts beneath his touch, soaks into his bones, the solace you find in him—the solace he brings to you, even with his too-rough hands and his acid tongue—untangling his rigidly coiled muscle fibers. 

dabi who kneads out all of the dull pain knotted in your joints, his fingers meticulous but harsh as they work the agony from your knuckles and palms and wrists, routine apologies muttered out through gritted teeth, each punctuating a tender sound of hurt evoked every time he presses a little too strong, massages a little too firm. 

dabi who, in his own unusual, twisted methods, genuinely cares about your well-being, and cares even more about enforcing it—controlling, owning, tending, keeping.

because despite his selfish greed, his obsessively possessive manner, his sharp edges and abrasive demeanour, dabi still takes impeccable care of what belongs to him—and you belong to him, too, don’t you?

[honeytonedhottie]

taking control of ur wellness (tips and tricks to be ur healthiest most vibrant you)⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✍🏽🌸

you must treat ur body like the temple that it is. love every inch of urself and out of love for urself, take good care of it. in this post we'll explore how to take control of ur wellness and overall take better care of urself from the inside out…💬🎀

THE MAINTENANCE ;

maintaining ur health by taking supplements is something that i do and its made a big difference in my health. because im taking my vitamins and supplements i feel a lot better and i dont get sick often at all.

♡ invest in a cute vitamin box to inspire u to take ur vitamins

i take a daily multivitamin in the morning and at night i take magnesium + D3 because its helped me fix my sleep schedule and just have better quality of sleep. plus its a better alternative to melatonin ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅✍🏽

DISCLAIMER : its crucial for u to do ur own research when it comes to ur health so make sure that u do that before applying anything that u learn on the internet for ur own safety!…💬🎀

♡ chia seed water every morning

make sure that ur not consuming more than 1-2 tbsp of chia seeds a day but i put 2 tablespoons of chia seeds in my water every morning cuz its an amazing source of fiber, and they're rich in omega-3 fatty acids and other vitamins and minerals.

♡ if im experiencing inflammation i'll take some warm water, turmeric and some lemon

♡ chlorophyll water (bonus points if u add a lemon wedge)

chlorophyll is an internal deodorizer! it helps to detoxify the body by binding to and eliminating toxins, heavy metals, and harmful substances. it also helps with skin concerns like acne 💕

♡ dry brushing

dry brushing is something else that i do that has an impact on my health. dry brushing unclogs pores in the exfoliation process. it also helps detoxify your skin by increasing blood circulation and promoting lymph flow/drainage. so not only am i exfoliating for softer more princessy skin, im also promoting my lymph flow and increasing my blood circulation.

THE IMPORTANCE OF HYDRATION ;

i know everyone always talks about how important it is to drink water and its lowkey overdone but its TRUE. water is so SO important. if u have difficulty drinking enough water invest in a cute water bottle with a straw. i say with a straw cuz i feel like personally, im more inclined to drink water if its out of a straw.

YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT ;

when ur eating, try focusing on how the food ur eating is making you feel. everyones body responds differently to different foods so by noticing how u feel after eating something, you can have a better idea of what u should continue eating and what u should steer clear of. with that being said, lets get into this section. 🗒️

something else that i wanted to yap about in this section is that there is a difference between restricting urself and self control. eating shouldn't be bringing u anxiety and ur allowed to let urself live. so eat to feel satiated and happy, dont eat to the point where you feel sick and like u can barely move.

something that has helped me be more conscious of what im choosing to fuel my body with is the 80-20 rule. choose the healthier option 80% of the time and the 20% of the time eat yummy pastries and cakes 💕

if ur someone who has difficulty eating vegetables, try cooking them in a different way and seasoning them adequately to make them yummy, masking them in different dishes. OR if that doesnt work for u get ur veggies in smoothies. cuz u gotta get in some fruits and vegetables.

im someone who loves to have a fun drink in the mornings and during the day so i've been super obsessed with making my own smoothies. my smoothie formula is super simple and it has never failed me.

(1-2 fruits + collagen powder/protein powder + almond milk + a bit of honey/maple syrup + ice)…💬🎀

some more wellness drinks and juicing recipes →

♡ apple + lemon + kale + honey + water

♡ grapefruit + lemon + kale + water

ALL ABOUT PROBIOTICS ;

probiotics are the good bacteria that live in your gut, working hard to keep your digestive system balanced and healthy. SO if you’re dealing with bloating, fatigue, or even skin issues, it might be time to show your gut some love.

♡ kimchi

♡ greek yogurt

♡ kefir

♡ pickles

♡ kombucha

MOVING YOUR BODY ;

moving ur body is also super duper important, not only for ur physical well being but also for ur mental wellbeing so make sure that ur getting physical activity every single day.

whether thats going to the gym, stretching, playing a sport, going on walks, dancing etc. there are literally SO many ways that u can move ur body and enjoy urself ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ some things that i like to do to stay active are →

♡ dancing ♡ stretching ♡ jump-roping (my favorite) ♡ walking

the trick to this is using the stair master machine OR if u dont have one in ur gym, u can just go on the treadmill at an incline for like 30 minutes or however long u can, and putting ur hands up to ur head and keeping ur posture straight. aim for at least a 5-10% incline, but you can go higher depending on your fitness level…💬🎀

or ofc u can go on walks with ur pet or ✨hot girl walks✨ and walk while listening to a podcast, literally whatever u prefer.

♡ pilates/workouts that i can follow along with on youtube

a fun way to keep track of the workouts that u consistently do is to make a workout book like i did. that way i can have everything at my fingertips right when i need it 💕🗒️

[manicmanuscription]

The Right Time

Feysand x Reader

Word Count: 2501

Warnings: Angst, Possible Medical Inaccuracies, Fluff, Love Confessions, Delirium, Lack of Sleep, Depression? Panicking, Dissociation.

Summary: Reader is a new single mom, and she pushed away her only support system determined to prove she could do it on her own. But on a bad sleeping night she's slipping. Luckily her mates friends are there to pick her up.

A/N: I've been really obsessed with baby/pregnancy fic's lately due to baby fever, but I have never actually been pregnant before so a lot of this stuff is based on information from family members or other fanfic's. So a lot of this might not be correct. This fic has also been playing in my head after a shit ton of pregnancy fics i read so there might be grammatical errors!

You didn’t know what you expected your life to be when you were just a faeling but it certainly wasn’t like this…

Living in a small cottage nestled in the countryside of Velaris, a wailing baby in your arms, bags under your eyes, no ring on your finger and no baby daddy in sight. Your house was an absolute mess but you didn’t have the energy or time to clean, you would’ve hired a maid but ever since your daughter was born a few weeks ago your paranoia had skyrocketed. It didn’t help that you were a valued member of the Inner Circle and not only had your life been threatened numerous times but you had been attacked just as many. 

You never expected it to be this hard though. Andromeda was squealing at the top of her lungs and you were sobbing right along with her. Rocking her up and down and desperately trying to figure out what was wrong. Not only were you still recovering from your intense labor and your homones all over the place but it was impossible to get any sleep, if your lovely daughter wasn’t having difficulty latching and by some miracle she had fallen asleep for longer than forty five minutes than you were staring at the wall cooconed in blankets a deep sense of dread overcoming every sense in your body made it diffuclt to fall asleep.

Anxiety kept your eyes awake at the thought that something would go wrong the second you let yourself relax. Your body would pass out from sheer exhaustion and Andromeda’s cries would awaken you and you started the whole song and dance over again. 

You were so, so, tired. Your mind had you seeing shadows moving across the floor and you could barely stand up straight. It was a miracle that fae get pregnant, conception taking years at a time and even then the pregnancy and labor extremely diffuclt, a lot of fae not surviving the process. You knew you were incredibley lucky to have a daughter, to have the chance to hold her and you loved her fiercely with ever fiber in your being yet you couldn’t help but regret everything.

You wished you never went to that club, never met that male, you wished that male had stayed instead of running in the opposite direction and you wished to all gods that you hadn’t pushed away your only support system, determined to prove you could do it on your own. 

Your family had been a shining star during all of this. Especially your High Lady and Lord, Rhysand and Feyre knew the deep intracies of pregnancy better than most after everything they had been through with Nyx.

Theey had stuck to your side the second they learned you were pregnant. Taking turns holding your hair back as you violently threw up from intense morning sickness, got all your cravings the second you mentioned it, held your bump when the weight started hurting your back or rubbed your feet when your ankles swelled.

They even forced you to stay at their house for weeks at a time so they could take care of you and when you insisted you were becoming a burden and returned home they had made themselves comfortable on your couch before you felt guilty and returned to the River House if only to save their spines. 

You had tried pulling away from them, guilt eating you alive every second of your pregnancy. Their actions didn’t help the absolute massive crush you had on them, in fact it only increased your adoration for them which made you shame spiral. The second your daughter was born you knew you couldn’t continue leaning on them for support, it only hurt you at the end of the day when you remembered they were mated, they had each other and a son and despite their overly flirty comments and lingering touches that just ended up causing more confusion. There was no room for you, you couldn’t keep pining after them when you needed to focus on Andromeda.

You told them you needed space, practically shoving them out the door even after they had spent 18 hours holding your hand’s and helping you deliver your beautiful daughter. Of course they had straight up refused your attempt to push them away and stayed with you a few days after labor, helping take care of you during the harsh after effects. But you finally kicked them out throwing out some cruel word’s that would haunt you to this day. Andromeda needed her mother to be present and emotionally healthy and you couldn’t provide that if you keep second guessing and overthinking every brush against your hand or every comment about your eyes. 

You could do this, you had to do this. You needed to be the best mother you could be for your little star. 

Yet you couldn’t even do that because she would not. stop. crying. The sound shredded your heart to pieces and guilt and shame turned the shattered bits of you to dust. She was fed, clean and warm and you couldn’t figure out why she kept crying. The thought made you feel like a horrible mother and you let out another sob at the same time as Andromeda as you bounced her up and down, forcing your numb feet to pace the room. “Please, please just go to sleep.” You begged. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” Your voice cracked and you spiraled at the scream she let out. 

You couldn’t do this. 

It was too hard, you were a horrible friend and an even worse mother and you didn’t deserve this little miracle in your arms. A better female would be able to handle it. You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t- 

“Oh Angel.” A soft voice broke and you turned to find Feyre and Rhys standing there, you opened your mouth to say something but Rhys was moving the instant your eyes met their’s. As soon as he was a breath away from you he reached for Andromeda, saying something about help yet the words were distorted and muffled in your exhaustive state, soft arms gripped your shoulders and you almost fell over at the weight of your baby being removed as Rhysand gently pried her away from you and into his arms, a smile gracing his elegant features.

You were too tired to fight, to do anything to protest as Feyre led you away from the bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom. She was saying something too but you didn’t hear it, all your last remaining energy focused on listening for Andromeda, making sure she was ok. Feyre titled your chin to look up at her and she pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. Your mind suddenly sharpening as her magic brushed against your mental walls as she forced you to listen to her. “She’ll be fine Sweetheart, Rhys has got her, now let me take care of you.” 

Everything felt so far away as if you were dreaming, moving through life in a haze as Feyre gently undressed you and settled you in a warm bath. She washed your hair and body and massaged your shoulders, whispering word’s of comfort that did not reach you as you floated away from your body. She fed you fruit and cheese’s your body chewing the food on autopilot. When was the last time you ate? 

The food and Feyre constantly touching you slowly brought you back down to earth. To the reality of your hunger, your tiredness, how sore all your muscles were and to the lack of Andromeda crying, you could hear Rhysand humming lowly through the crack in the door and the occasional creak of the floorboards as he calmed your daughter down. The thought had tears lining your eyes again. “She hates me.” You whimpered and Feyre brushed your tears away with the pads of her thumbs. “No she doesn’t.” Feyre she affirmed confidently. 

You shook you head in disagreement. “I can’t do anything right Fey, I said all those nasty things to you a-and I couldn’t even get her to sleep, and I’m so tired. I wasn’t cut out for this alright? I’m going to fuck her up so badly, I’ll ruin everything.” You were sobbing again, a broken sound tearing from your throat and the sound looked like it physically pained her. “Andromeda adores you alright love? We can all see it, she never looks at anyone the way she looks at you.  Your so attuned to her, you love her so fiercely and that’s the most important part. Your doing your amazing love. You’re not going to fuck anything up. You’re an amazing female and you’re an amazing mother. I forgive you, so does Rhys. We just want to make sure your ok.”

You let the words sink in, your heart beating wildly out of her chest as you cried at the tenderness of her words. “Why are you dong this to me?” You asked brokenly, you felt as if they were pulling you in all different directions. “Why are you saying all of these things when-“ when you’re mated. Were the unspoken words. But you couldn’t say that, you’d never say that and ruin whatever pieces of friendship you had. 

“When what?” Feyre asked softly as she stroked your damp hair.  

“When- I- I-“ You stuttered not knowing what to say as your mind panicked at the close confession you’d almost made. “Why are supporting me like this.” You instead asked, needing to know why they had stayed so close to your side and pulled at your heart strings so violently. “Just..why Feyre? Go home, to your son. I’ll be fi-“

“If you finish that sentance I swear to the gods-“ Rhysand exhaled heavily from the now open doorway,. “Rhys.” Feyre warned but he brushed her off as he crossed the room and  kneeled in front of the bathtub, gripping your face in between his large hands. “Do you not see how much we love you? How much we care for you. I think we have made it obvious Angel. You are our mate. Just please- please let us help you.” The last part sounded like a desperate plea, a whine leaving his lips and you didn’t have it into you to be shocked that the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court were kneeling beside you, begging. your heart froze at the love confession. 

“Wait…What?” You asked slowly, waiting for them to tell you this was all a big joke. You couldn’t believe this, you couldn’t let yourself hope. Feyre was giving Rhysand an annoyed glare but at your voice she turned to you, her expression to shifting to one of hope. “You are our mate darling.” She whispered, entertwining a tattooed hand with your’s, water dripping onto the rug, reminding you that were naked in a bathtub and an embarrassed flush crept up your cheeks. 

“And we love you.” Rhys added once again, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“We didn’t want to tell you like this, especially not right now.” Feyre added with a pointed tone, giving her - your -  mate another glare. The High Lord just rolled his eyes. “I’m tired of waiting for the right time Feyre.” 

You were pretty sure your heart was beating a milllion miles per hour and you couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle that turned into a delirous laugh. Their brows furrowed and expressions shifted to something more broken at that and you immediately apologized as you gasped for breath in between your laughter. “I- just.” Your voice cracked as you started talking, regaining some wisdom. “Do you know how long I’ve been in love with the two of you?” You whispered, your voice coming out in a high pitched tone as you tried to get it out all in one breath. “I felt so guilty-“ Lips crashed onto yours. The addicting scent of lilac and pear completely invading your senses as your gorgeous mate kissed you. Fireworks exploded in your chest and all of a sudden it felt like you could breath again. 

You felt as if you had arrived home as you finally allowed yourself to recognize the glowing bond in your chest instead of gaslighting yourself and pushing it down. It was overwhelming to feel the surge of emotions on your mates side and exhilarating all at the same time. Feyre moaned as your tugged on her bottom lip possessively. Soon her lips trailed down your neck and shoulder and a new set of lips met your own. 

Rhysand was different than Feyre yet just as addicting as his tongue clashed against yours, immediately taking control of the kiss. 

After a few more minutes of your mate’s overwhelmingly beautiful touch and you finally pulled away, panting hard. “What..What about Andromeda?” You asked timidly, knowing you would put her above yourself always, if they didn’t want another child than you couldn’t do this. Couldn’t allow yourself to hope only to crash and burn later. 

Rhysand hummed softly, taking one of your hands and kissing the inside of your wrist. “What about her darling?”

“Do…you still want me? She’s not your-“

Feyre gripped your chin firmly once again, directing your eyes to hers. “Andromeda is ours just as much as Nyx is.” 

“Your ours, Andromeda is ours. Nothing is going to change that.” Rhys agreeded with just as much conviction os Feyre. You almost started crying once again, completely overwhelmed by the revelations of the night and Feyre hummed softly as they both remembered why they were here in the first place. To take care of you and their daughter. Rhysand got up and grabbed a fluffy bath robe and you don’t remember buying and Feyre helped you out of the bath stealing a quick kiss from you. “There’s still so much we have to do and talk about.” You mentioned as Rhys slid your arms into the robe. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “We can talk later, let’s get you into bed Sweetheart.” You could feel the adrenaline  from the night starting to wear off as Feyre led you to the bedroom. Your daughter finally snoring softly in the crib next to the bed.

They dressed you in your favorite PJ’s and each pressed a kiss to your lips before tucking you in the bed, Rhys magically changing the sheets with a snap of his fingers. 

Feyre snuggled in beside you, running her nails along your spine and Rhys sat on the end, massaging your sore feet as they forced the usual dread and anxiety away and for the first time in weeks you allowed yourself to finally relax at your mate’s gentle touch, your body completely melting underneath them. One hand gripping your daughter’s finger through the bars of her crib and one hand holding onto Feyre’s as you drifted off to sleep

[jamil-s-wifey]

I saw the rules that NSFW is fine & things u don't write for the NSFW, soo may i req hcs of Savannaclaw's dorm with gn!s/o (f!s/o is ok too) where s/o asks the boys to breed them? Ummm is my req still alright? do tell me if u feel uncomfortable with this. Thank u!

Yes, of course, your request is perfectly fine! One interesting proposition towards the Savannaclaw dorm coming right up! Thank you for diligently reading the rules! ♥️ I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Nsfw under the cut!

Leona

See, he gets it. You're dating a beastman. Of course you'd want to get a taste of the wild side - the primal urges, the possessive bitemarks, the delicious feeling of being full to the brim, like a good little bitch in heat. He gets it. ...But that doesn't mean he won't have some fun with it.

"Breeding, huh? You think just 'cus I'm a beastman, that we call it breeding, that it comes natural or something? Wanna live out your little creampie fantasies through me, huh?"

Oh that accusatory tone, that sharp glare.

Just as you were about to apologise, he interrupted you.

"You'd stand correct, herbivore."

Oh, that piece of-

And he was on you, pinning you to the nearest surface, which ended up being the bed itself. (Lazy lion be lazing) Sharp canines scraped over the pulse point on your neck, as his hips ground into you.

"You wanna be bred, huh? Filled to the brim, marked and scented, so that everybody will know who you belong to? Careful what you wish for, little herbivore."

"You might just get it. Now spread your legs."

Ruggie

He right about *choked*.

You? With him? Now?!? But he's not prepared for fatherhood. He'd want to have a steady income to provide for his family and - and it's so tempting, and you're pulling him in with those glassy eyes, and delicious lips and-

Oh, you meant in like-. Oh You just really want to be filled, don't you. Okay. He can work with that.

He'd be for sure frazzled at first, but very quickly get into rhythm. The more ye imagines it, the more obsessed he gets with the image of your hole dripping with his cum, reddened, used and thoroughly bred.

He'd have to wait until nighttime, when he's free, but the moment you two were left to your own devices he was quick to shed your clothing, nearly ripping yours from your body.

Surprisingly eager, considering the state of pure panic he was in earlier that day. All teeth, and growls, and breathless moaning, and all just for you.

"Shishishi, and here I thought I was the wild one. Oh doncha worry, I'll fill you plenty~."

Somehow that sounded more like a threat than a promise and you were content with both.

Jack

Every single fiber within Jack's body was screaming at him to take you right then and there. His instincts were going haywire at the prospect. He needed you carnally, viscerally... and you were just offering yourself to him?

His tail was a dead giveaway, as to the whirlwind of emotions coursing through him, as he stared at you. His fingers were twitching, aching to get a hold of you.

"You....do realise what that entails, right? We uh...we mate for life. I know you find it..uhm.....attractive, but I have to warn you."

He figured you were aware, he just couldn't believe it. His breeding also entailed a knot after all. You had to be warned. And you already knew. Of course you knew, you'd been together for years. After hearing your wholehearted confirmation, he felt the thin thread of his self-control snap within him.

A deep guttural growl left his throat, as he stepped towards you, grabbing your face and pulling you in for the kiss of a lifetime. Big, rough hands travelled from your face, to your neck and down your body, only to lift you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"I can't wait to paint your insides white. You'd look so good, full and sated, my perfect mate."

Who are you and what did you do to my Jack?