#they keep telling me to try them for a week or so and then decide. I keep telling them that I couldn't use them

[lotties-ashwagandha]

THE FIRST TO BREAK

agatha harkness x reader x rio vidal

NSFW! when they can’t decide who indulges you more, agatha and rio find a way to settle it in competition. based on this ask i got. 1.3k words. i might have written this at 7am (that’s my excuse if it’s bad <3).

Rio’s arms rest looped around your waist as you stand at the stove. Her head rests on your shoulder as she watches you work, as you pour herbs and spices into a pot —you got up early, stalking through the kitchen to create something to prevent the illnesses that will be coming with winter soon. You use your witchcraft in the way of herbs, a potion witch as they would call you.

“You don’t need any of this,” Rio whispers. She watches you stir, and her arms around you grow tighter. “I’m not taking you from illness.”

You smile softly. You’ve tried to explain to her before that it’s not just about life and death, but discomfort — how much life resembles the gleaming, shifting ideal of thriving. She is still learning, it’s a concept too human for what is ancient, for Death.

“You’re going to keep her alive forever,” Agatha’s voice rings out into the gentle silence of the kitchen as she speaks to Rio. You turn slightly in Rio’s grasp to look over at her, and as she pours a coffee for herself Agatha raises her eyebrows at you accusingly. “Don’t break my favoritism streak.”

You shake your head. “I’ll try.”

Rio rolls her eyes. She steps away from you, leaning against the kitchen island behind her as she turns to Agatha. “If one of us is treating her with favoritism, it’s not me.”

“Really? That’s a stretch. How do I treat her with favoritism?”

Leaving the contents on the stove to simmer, you turn to watch them argue over you. It is playful, but still endearing, because you know they both treat you with favoritism.

“You answer to whatever she wants,” Rio says, like it’s obvious. “Even when she doesn’t ask, you’re always giving.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“No. Stealing diamond earrings and a diamond bracelet in the same week from a shopkeeper you threatened to kill is a little much though, isn’t it?”

Agatha is quiet for a moment, taking a sip of her coffee. She drinks out of a black mug Rio got her, wears a dark blue robe Rio bought her, wears a wedding ring Rio proposed to her with. You don’t think you are the one being shown partiality.

Agatha sets the mug down and looks at you. “What do you think?”

You didn’t think it had been worth bickering over. They had disagreed. Now as you lay on the bed with your hands tied all you want is for them to show you favor, to fuck you until they forget the petty competition they have created between them.

Two of Rio’s fingers slide into you as she takes advantage of her turn. The rules of their competition are simple: whoever lets you come first loses. You’re working up to the third time being edged, this is Rio’s second time on you and Agatha has only edged you once.

It was Agatha’s plan to make Rio go first, and now you can see why, because in the way she’s fucking you so greedily now with her fingers and in the low moans she lets slip as she sucks bruises onto your chest you can tell Rio will be the first to break. She wants to let you come as bad as you need it, her black nails digging into your hips as her free hand presses against you in a reminder to stay still.

“Look at her,” Agatha says, speaking to Rio as if you couldn’t hear, you were something to admire. “Doesn’t she deserve to come? She’s so beautiful for us like this.”

Rio lets out a frustrated breath, accusatory glance shifting to Agatha, who takes advantage of her proximity and pulls her into a kiss. You watch them above you, one of Agatha’s hands drifting to your breasts as she sits at your side. She’s trying hard to do anything she can to make Rio let you come.

Rio notices Agatha’s wandering touch. She pulls out of the kiss, pulling Agatha’s hand away from your breasts and replacing it with her mouth. The sensation elicits a gasp from you, and your back arches into the sensation of her tongue licking across one of your nipples.

“She’s so close,” Agatha whispers into Rio’s ear. She watches you with the same hunger in Rio’s eyes as she keeps fucking you with her fingers. “Think about how perfect she would look for you, how it would feel to have her—”

Just as you reach the edge of your orgasm, Rio pulls her hands from you. She compensates with kissing you — it’s not enough, though, and you can’t help but whine into the kiss. You need her touch, or Agatha’s, something to soothe the need growing in you so sharply.

When you pull away and look at Agatha, a conflicted expression occupies her features. You know she wants to give you an orgasm, but she also wants to win. As she takes Rio’s place and settles herself between your legs, head dipping down to kiss your thighs, you can see it — that there’s nothing she wants more right now than to feel you come on her tongue.

When Rio kisses you from beside you, Agatha delivers a sharp slap to the outside of your thigh. You tense, startled out of the kiss.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Agatha’s tone is demanding as she addresses Rio, who looks back at her with unbothered pride.

“I’m playing by your rules. You want to taunt me during my turn? It has to be even.”

“It will be even when I win,” Agatha says, and you’re overcome with the sensation of her tongue dragging through you. Your hands pull at the restraints above you to no avail. You want to reach down and weave your hands in her hair, or pull Rio closer to you as she watches.

Agatha runs her tongue over your clit. She does it harder, moaning against you when your legs begin to tremble on either side of her head. It’s almost painful how good it feels to have her tongue dipping inside of you and back up to your clit. With Rio’s lips crashing back into yours you can feel yourself slowly building into another orgasm — this time you need it.

“Please,” you beg breathlessly, hands pulling the restraints again. “You win, both of you can win…”

“Agatha,” Rio taunts beside you. She watches as Agatha draws you closer and closer to the edge — she watches when Agatha pulls away.

Yet when Agatha pulls away it’s not to let Rio take her place, but to slide two fingers into you and reposition herself so she can kiss you. You taste yourself on her tongue and a moan escapes you.

“Come for me, baby, give it to me,” Agatha murmurs. Your body responds immediately, any restraint you’ve tried to keep snaps as white-hot euphoria rushes over you. Agatha fucks you through it, fingers buried deep in you as she guides you through your orgasm. Vaguely you’re able to process Rio beside you as well with one of her hands between her legs — she’s gone with you, at the sight of you and Agatha.

Agatha kisses you again as you come down from it. You hear Rio breathing heavily beside you, and then Agatha is pulled away from you again so that Rio can kiss her. When they part, Rio looks into her eyes. “You fucking lose.”

“And you’re the one that got off on it.”

A smile makes its way to your lips. Playfully Rio shakes her head at you, Agatha moving to lay on your other side so that you’re sandwiched between them while Rio undoes the restraints on your wrists. You pull your hands down.

Laying down with them, Rio rests her head on her chest and loops an arm around your waist. Agatha holds her hand, and in their embrace you are enveloped by their love. There is no winner amongst you — the victory is shared.

[boomstab-papa]

Hi tumblr, middle-aged bitch here, reblogging to confirm the stuff on this post. (TW for discussion of eating disorders and suicidal ideation)

Personally, I've never been tiny or thin. Trim and muscular, maybe, but never tiny. My lowest weight happened during high school, after WEEKS of being SUPER FUCKING SICK.

See, when you're sick, your body needs nutrients that are easy to break down and absorb. But digestion is hard work. So instead of dutifully digesting the food you eat while you're sick, it starts eating ITSELF. Especially your muscles. I lost a significant chunk of weight while I was sick (and couldn't lift as much afterwards) because MY BODY ATE MY MUSCLES.

"Fun" fact: if you severely starve yourself, your body really will start digesting your other organs, not just your muscles. I know somebody who was on a starvation diet due to being a broke college student, and his body straight up ate his tonsils. They're gone. He never had them surgically removed. His body just ATE THEM.

It is NOT FUCKING WORTH IT to starve yourself try to make some of your fat disappear. Your body eats itself, not "just your fat".

It is additionally NOT FUCKING WORTH IT to be regularly, debilitatingly hungry.

Like, I get it, most of us are not the shape we were when we were younger. Maybe you feel like this is a bad trend. But this trend is true of most animals as they age. The teenagers are stringbeans, the mature adults are chonkier. Quit fetishizing youth. Quit fetishizing thinness. Get used to being old and chonky. Get used to telling people to "fuck off" if they think being older and fatter is bad. Furthermore, GET USED TO EATING ENOUGH.

Again, my experience here, I spent almost 20 years trying to stay "trim" like I was in high school and eating the tiniest lunches. I even cut that lunch into two smaller lunch breaks at work, trying to spend less continuous time hungry. But fuck, I was still hungry. Lightheaded. Dizzy. Confused. Tired. Shitty focus. MISERABLE. My work suffered, my mood suffered, and I literally wanted to die.

(Also I was overeating in the evenings, to the point of discomfort. I wasn't eating enough and my body was MAD.)

Somewhere in the last couple years, I decided "FUCK THAT SHIT".

Now I eat a lunch that's big enough to keep me from getting lightheaded until it's time for dinner anyway. I don't make myself uncomfortable with too much food in the evenings. I'm not spending most of my day half-fainting or mondo bloated. I'm also on three different medications that all warn that they might "cause weight gain".

And I'm fat now. I'm fine with that. I feel better than ever.

TL;DR go read the original post again:

"If you feel like you have to eat less than your body tells you it needs to be skinny, please just be ok with being fat."

Diet companies won’t tell you this but starving yourself is a lot worse for your health than overeating

This post is explicitly about being ok with being fat. If you feel like you have to eat less than your body tells you it needs to be skinny, please just be ok with being fat.

[baronessvonglitter]

Daddy Can Fix It

handyman!Joel Miller x fem!plus size!Reader

Word count: 5.4K

Summary: All the housewives in your neighborhood rave about the local handyman. And with very good reason.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is plus-size, wears dress and lingerie, has hair and body hair, and manicure. Reader's age not mentioned so there is only as much or as little of an age gap as you'd like. TW - fat shaming, food shaming, infidelity (by reader, and it's technically warranted) Pet names (daddy for Joel; sugar, darlin', baby, sweetheart for reader). Housewife/trad-wife vibes. Totally a bored housewife fantasy. Mention of female masturbation. Breast/nipple play, oral (f & m receiving). Fingering. Body worship. Pussy pronouns. Unprotected piv (Joel is snipped, but still.. this is fiction). Light spanking. Rough sex. Creampie. Joel's kind of a big ol' slut for the lonely housewives but is also really useful around the house, so you're definitely getting a good deal 🛠️

Author's note: it's been a hot minute since I've written a one-shot for Joel but it was impossible to resist. It all started because of this pic:

so yeah, Pinterest strikes again. How could I not write a Joel fic based on this? I hope y'all enjoy 💖

"He can come clean my pipes anytime."

Raucous laughter erupts from the group of ladies huddled near the cupcakes at the latest book club meeting. You listen from the other side of the room where one of the older members is asking you to help her with her Kindle. "I never know how to keep up with all this fancy technology," Marion huffs, adjusting her bifocals.

You're trying to be patient with her, but the conversation across the room is far more intriguing. "It just needs to be charged. Your battery is low," you say three times before Marion can even hear you.

When you've managed to extricate yourself from her, you go up to the ladies and, with a friendly smile, join in. "I couldn't help overhearing."

Some of the women exchange glances, as if deciding to let you in on their convo or not. "Becky's just showing us that she got her kitchen cabinets redone," someone finally pipes up.

"That's not all she got," another starts to crack up.

You look at Becky's phone screen. The before and after shots of her cabinets are nothing short of miraculous. "That's great, Becky! I know you've been asking Gerald for a renovation for awhile," you tell her, hoping she'll be pleased you remember the plight she droned on about for weeks.

"It is great," she says, eyeing you with something like suspicion. "I have a very good handyman."

"He does everything," a nicer girl, Isabelle, chimes in.

"Boy does he," another mutters, hiding her smirk behind her cup of lemonade while the others giggle behind their hands.

Amirah adds, "He varnished my dining room table, power washed my driveway, helped organize my garage," she counts on her fingers. "He's good for little things around the house, and his prices are decent."

"It's like he's just giving it away," Becky says with a smirk and this gets the group laughing again.

"Maybe you can give me his information later," you say politely. "I have a laundry list of things that I need help with now that Wesley's working so much overtime."

The women eye one another, and it's Amirah, the leader of the group, who gives the definite nod. "Of course, sweetie. After the meeting."

"Great!" Smiling, you try to make your way through the group, saliva pooling in your mouth at the tower of red velvet cupcakes on the table spread. You reach for a couple more.

"You've already had three," Becky reminds you, casting a not-so-subtle glance at your body. Her voice sweet as honey but her words carry poison. You know you're not as thin or as glamorous as the other women in this room. You dress the same as them, wear your hair perfectly coiffed and your nails are always manicured, but just because you're not a size zero they deem you unworthy to truly be one of them.

You hold your head high with what little courage you have in the face of Becky's bitchiness, your sinful little cupcake in your hand. "I actually had three. And right now I'm about to make it five," you say sweetly, licking a swipe of cream cheese icing before putting two cupcakes on a china plate and going back to your seat.

That night, Wesley doesn't ask about your book club. He doesn't ask how your day was. He doesn't do much except pour himself a drink when he gets home and sit in front of the TV to watch the news.

You're dressed for bed, a modest robe over a red silk babydoll chemise, a purchase you'd made on a whim in the hopes that you could spice up your sex life with him which, truth be told, has never been more than lukewarm from the start.

"Do you think we should.. go to bed?" you suggest, a naughty tone to your whisper.

"It's early," he grunts, barely giving you a glance.

"I just thought we could spend some time together.." you brush your hand across his knee but he impatiently swipes it away.

"Please, darling, it's a weeknight," he looks at you as if you'd just suggested a threesome with him and the milk man. As he leaves the room he looks back at you, but the hope that rises in your chest is soon shattered when he shakes his head upon seeing your lingerie. "Red is for streetwalkers," he tells you before he goes into his study.

Daddy Can Fix It

You run your finger over the business card Amirah gave you, with all the handy man's information. The card shows his white company van with the logo emblazoned on the side: Joel Miller, Handyman At Your Service so it says in black lettering. There's a phone number and a website as well.

You dial the number, expecting to hear a secretary's voice, but you're greeted with a rich, baritone "Good mornin', thanks for callin' Daddy, what can I fix for ya today?"

Jesus, the voice alone is enough to get you flustered. And Daddy? You weren't expecting that. "Um, hi, I got your number through a friend and I'd like to see if you're available to come mow the lawn today." You peek out your curtains, seeing how the grass has grown taller than you'd like since the last time Wesley has cared enough to cut it.

"You got a lawn mower, sugar?"

"Yes, I do, um.. daddy.."

You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. "You can call me Joel."

"Joel. Yes, I do. Is there anything else you'll need?" New to the housewife lifestyle, you're still unsure of how to make such appointments. Before you met and married Wesley, you just mowed the lawn yourself, but your husband refuses to hear of his good and proper wife performing a menial act.

"Got any bushes that need trimmin'?"

You aren't sure why that particular sentence makes you feel the blood rush to your face. "I typically keep up with it on my own, when I'm tending to my garden."

Joel gives a small chuckle and it warms your insides. "That ain't no problem. Today around eleven good for ya?"

"Eleven sounds perfect."

"Pricing'll be about fifty, but we can come to an agreement once the job is done."

"Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you." You give him your name and address, hanging up with a sense of accomplishment.

His van appears in your driveway just a minute before eleven. You're impressed with his timeliness. What you don't expect is the gorgeous stranger on your doorstep.

Joel Miller is tall, broad-shouldered, skin bronze from working out in the sun, and his dark brown hair is greying handsomely. If you had to guess his age you'd say fifties. He's in a grey tee shirt and work jeans. What stand out to you the most are his eyes: almost black in color, appraising you as you wait in the doorway, prim and proper housewife, lips parted, eyes wide.

He asks for you by name and you nod, chuckling slightly.

"If you can show me where the lawn mower is I'd be happy to get started," he offers, and the voice you recognize from the phone makes you melt.

You lead him outside to the garage and he takes out the mower, filling it up with some gasoline first. "Is there anything else you need?" you ask politely.

"No ma'am," he looks over his shoulder at you as he pushes the machine to the front yard. "Get inside and get outta this sun. I'll handle it from here," he smiles and it makes you want to giggle like a schoolgirl.

From inside you watch him through the window, deftly maneuvering the lawn mower over, trimming the grass to a neat, short length. It's not yet the hottest hour of the day, but you see him sweating, and when he stops a moment to remove his shirt, you suddenly feel your pulse in the deepest part of your cunt. You wonder what it would be like to lick up every drop of sweat off his chest.

Like a slow motion scene from a movie, you watch the motion of his arms, the rippling of his back as he guides the machine over the lawn. Biting your lip you take in the sight of him, the determination on his face redirecting your thoughts to how he would look above you: hot, sweaty, hard, plunging into your drenched pussy.

How long has it been since you've had a man? Wesley prefers his Saturday nights like clockwork. But you want more. Stupidly thinking marriage was the best way to be treated right and fucked properly, you realized it was not the title but the man, and the particular man you chose was lacking in all area which mattered.

You aren't even sure you love him anymore.

But right now, watching Joel is a treat, and fantasizing about him is a little secret you'll harbor for later in the day when you'll inevitably find yourself using the showerhead attachment.

He finishes the front and back yards, and through the blinds you peep him putting his shirt back on, running a hand through his wavy curls before putting the mower away and coming to your door.

You answer it before he knocks. "Thank you!" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. "Please come in and we can settle payment."

He cleans the bottoms of his boots on the welcome mat before stepping inside your home and following you to the kitchen. "You have a very nice home, ma'am."

"You're too kind," you're modest about his compliment, but it's thrilling to have someone say something nice about the hard work you put into keeping house. "Would you care for some iced tea? I've just made it fresh."

"I won't say no to that," he chuckles lightly, and you're happy to fill a glass with some of the fresh-brewed tea over ice.

Joel leans back against the sink, pouty pink lips pressed to the glass as he tips it back, opening just enough to take a sweet sip. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows, and you wish you could lick a stripe up along his the length of his delicious-looking neck to collect all the sweat that's beaded there.

"Is there anythin' else you need help with today?" he asks, his question carrying a hint of something more.

You blank for a moment, getting lost in the depth of his obsidian eyes, still caught up in your little fantasy. "No.. no, I don't think so." Taking a look around your eyes dart to every corner, taking mental stock of the upstairs rooms as well. "No," you finalize with a smile.

"If you're sure.." he says in that same low tone.

You give him fifty dollars and chat a little while he finishes his drink.

"If there's nothin' else I'll get goin'. Feel free to call me again if you need somethin' done, or looked at. Ain't nothin' I can't fix," he winks at you on your doorstep and you feel a waterfall in your panties.

Isabelle calls later in the day. "So? You had Joel over today, right? How'd it go?"

Dinner is in the oven and there's about an hour before your husband gets home. Phone on speaker, you start peeling potatoes. "It was fine. He did a great job. I'm sure I'll use him again."

Over the line you hear Isabelle sigh. "Isn't his dick beautiful? I swear, just thinking about it gets me so wet!"

You nearly slice a finger off, shocked by her words. Even though you're alone in the house, you pick up the phone and take it off speaker. "What are you talking about?"

"I think it's at least eight inches, and the way it curves at the end," Isabelle sounds like she's moaning.

"Okay, I'm lost. I hired the handyman that you and the others referred. That's who came over today."

"Exactly, dear! Did he fuck you? You don't have to give details of course."

Your brain is put on pause as only silence fills your throat.

"Oh dear," Isabelle continues. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

She sighs, possibly settling herself on her chaise longue out by her pool she's so proud of. "Joel Miller is a handyman, yes. But we also pay him a little extra for other services."

"Oh." You sink onto the living room settee, the closest thing to you.

"Mm-hmm. Mind you, it's not an all-the-time thing. But we've all had him. It's just something fun. You get some help around the house with your honey-do list, and then a good fucking after. Or whatever pleases you."

"And you.. you've.. slept with him?"

"I wouldn't call it sleeping, honey, but yeah I've been with him. It's all for fun. Nobody really takes it seriously."

"And everyone else at the book club?"

"Pretty much. Do you really think any of our husbands could compare to that god of a man Joel Miller?"

No, no you doubt any man could hold up to the stud who'd just helped you with the lawn.

He's on your mind constantly, but as tightly as Wesley keeps his wallet to himself, you can't validate having Joel's help every day. You make the choice to wait until the following week.

And what a long wait it is. Jealously you wonder whose house he's going to. Jackie down the street? Bitchy Becky with her face like a rat, no tits and no ass?

You consider calling Isabelle to beg for the details (which she'll probably give you without a fuss anyway). But a sordid part of you wants to find out for yourself. You already know he's well-endowed. He's at least twice as big as Wesley, who wouldn't know what to do with a big cock if he was blessed with one overnight.

A week to the day since he made his last visit, Joel comes back to replace the batteries in your smoke alarms. It's a job you've done yourself, perching on a stepladder, but it'll be more fun to have Daddy fix it.

The phone call to schedule him was practically foreplay. That smooth-as-chocolate voice had your panties drenched. When he's finally here, inside your home, inside your needy little cunt.

Your eyes rove over his form as he uses your stepladder, only needing the first rung. It doesn't stop you from staying right there with him, holding it steady on the other side. You hear his little grunts as he gets to work, watch his thick, strong fingers handle the batteries with a delicacy you can imagine he uses in other things.

Licking your lips, you realize you're face-to-face with the faded blue denim crotch of his jeans, those Levis hugging him tight in all the right places.

"I'm 'bout done here," he says, putting the smoke detector back in its place. "Anythin' else you need help with, lil' darlin'?"

Your hand presses to the bulge in his jeans, and you're delighted when you feel him twitch in response. "As a matter of fact, I do need your help with something else.."

"That right?" he murmurs, pressing your hand against him, letting you feel him grow hard under his palm. "Been waitin' to see if you'd ask.."

He steps down, keeps his dark eyes on you. "Pretty lil' thing like yourself don't get enough attention, huh?" he whispers, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

Softly you sigh, unashamed at how needy you've been for a simple touch. "No.. but I'd like you to help with that."

"That's what I'm here for, darlin'," he smiles, his thumb tracing your soft plump lips. "What do you want me to do, baby?"

"Everything," you answer quickly. "I'm not.. really sure what the usual is.."

His smile is kind as his hand traces down your neck, leaving goosebumps to rise on your skin. "You want me to fuck ya, give ya somethin' nobody else is doin'.. that it?" He places your hand back on his bulge and you respond by rubbing him, your own cunt pulsing around nothing in excited expectation.

"Yes.. I need to get fucked," you agree emphatically, pulling him into your bedroom.

Now he's here, in your room, and you think you're dreaming. He's letting you take the lead, completely at your service. All the women in your book club were probably more open with their desires, knowing immediately what they wanted and how to get it. All the fantasies about Joel you've created and harbored in the deepest part of your heart are now as impalpable as gossamer.

"You tell me what you want, honey," he drawls in that molasses-rich voice of his. His hands gently trace your waist, smoothing down your dress as he moves towards your curvaceous hips. "God damn, I bet you look fuckin' gorgeous outta this dress. Wanna show me?"

Biting your lip, you nod, tugging off your apron and dropping it to the floor. Not gonna be a damn housewife while he's with me..

A tiny smirk on your face, you gently push Joel back onto your bed, and he rights himself with an equally mischievous smile as he watches you. He palms his hard cock through his jeans as you do a little striptease, tantalizing him as you slip your prim flower-print dress off your shoulders.

"There we go, baby," he growls as the dress falls down to your hips, your scarlet satin bra revealed, your breasts practically spilling over the cups, making Joel's mouth water. You turn around for his help in unzipping the bottom part of your dress, finally feeling free as it falls away, pooling at your feet.

Joel lets out a wolf whistle as he takes in the sight of you in your ruby undergarments, the same you'd tried to seduce your husband in. Now they're finally being put to good use. "Red's your color, gorgeous," he mutters, his hands on your hips, mapping out your generous curves and the soft rolls of your belly.

You've almost forgotten what it was like, this power to entrance a man and make him see you as the only woman in the world. Marriage to an uncaring and unfeeling idiot had left you cut off from your sexuality. Now you're reclaiming it.

Joel's hands travel back up to your waist, fingers deftly unclasping your bra. He unwraps you like you're the goddamn Christmas gift he's been begging for for months. His tongue wets his lips as your plump breasts are revealed. With one hand on your lower back, the other palms your tit with a rough hand. Your nipple rises to his touch and he dips down to swirl his tongue around it, gently coaxing it further with his teeth. Your head falls back as the sensation zings straight to your cunt. "Fuck, Joel.."

He smiles against the softness of your skin. "Sensitive here, huh? Bet these ain't been properly played with in awhile. Gonna change that right now." And with that he gives another hard suck, his dick already leaking when he hears your needy moan. He treats the other breast with the same attention. You take one of his hands and lead it to the drenched front side of your panties, but he stops you.

"Not yet, baby. Want you to see yourself before I fuckin' ruin ya."

You lay on your side on the bed as you watch Joel undress. It's a sight you won't soon forget: skin tan from working outdoors, with a smattering of chest hair that's also showing some grey, chiseled arms, and a happy trail that leads from his navel to the front of his boxers, which are tented. He wears a little smirk as he pulls them off and your reaction is priceless.

Joel is fucking hung.

You've taken big cocks before, but his is formed of pure fantasy, like a dildo from your favorite sex shop. Isabelle wasn't exaggerating about his size. And his cock is so beautiful you want to cry. Watching as he gives it a couple strokes, all eight thick uncut inches, the rosy pink tip glistens with precum, the veins and ridges prominent. Even the curve Isabelle mentioned is sexy, bound to hit all the right places inside you. His balls, rounded and heavy, move with his motions.

Thank God I did my yoga this week.

You beckon him to you, pulling the boxers away completely and dipping your head to taste him. Your tongue laves across the salty slit of his tip, and you relish the hitch of his breath. He's not here for you to please him, but it gets you wet wrapping your lips around his cock, suctioning your mouth and stroking upward from his base. When you start to massage his balls he stops you. "Don't wanna shoot too soon, baby," he says breathlessly.

He pulls you up off the bed and into a kiss, his hands playing along the edges of your panties as his tongue tastes yours. His cock, still wet from your mouth, nudges against your soft belly. "You deserve to feel good," he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his tongue tracing the outline. At last he pulls your panties down, a rumble in his throat when he sees the sweet glaze between your thighs, glistening in your triangle of hair.

"Sit on my lap, baby. With your back to me," he orders in a soft growl.

His flesh is warm beneath yours, and god it feels good just to be touched again, to feel desired by someone. You haven't known it in so long. He sits back against the headboard, moving the pillows on either side. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist as he leaves soft, feathery kisses across your shoulder.

"So soft," he murmurs. "C'mon, baby, look at yourself," he nods to the mirror in front of you.

When you catch your reflection you're exhilarated at the sight: you, naked, with Joel behind you, kissing your neck, fondling your tits, thumb brushing over them and lightly pinching them to hardened peaks. "Spread your legs for me, baby," he whispers, getting started by brushing his hand from your knee to your petal-soft inner thigh.

It's lascivious, watching all this unfurl before you in the mirror. You're spread open, on full display. Your pussy is gushing over with need, and you trace your folds with your fingers.

Behind you, Joel's cock twitches, and he rubs himself lightly against your back. "Lemme do that.." he whispers, gently pulling your hand away, bringing your fingers to his mouth and sucking your juice off them. "So sweet," he murmurs, and your belly is hot with lust.

His touch is soft and careful at first, exploring you and figuring out what you like, what you need. It feels like he's memorizing every inch of you. His thick fingers glide over your lips, circling, teasing you so you'll beg him for more.

"Joel," you whine, lifting yourself to him, trying to get his hand to position itself where you need it most. But he evades you, a dark chuckle emanating from deep in his throat. "You're payin' me to do a job and I wanna do it right. Not fair to rush me."

Your eyes close in frustration. "Joel, please.."

"Nuh-uh. Daddy."

"Fuck," you whimper. "Please, daddy."

"That's more like it." His touch finds your clit, throbbing and needy, and you nearly see stars at the feeling. He presses once again before sliding two fingers into your warm, welcoming cunt. "Christ, she's really suckin' me in there," he grunts, shifting behind you as his dick becomes nearly impossible to ignore.

"Yes," you moan at the sweet intrusion, the easy glide of his fingers in your drenched pussy. "Just like that."

"So fuckin' tight," he says through gritted teeth. And Jesus, his fingers are thick, the calloused thumb swiping over your clit, making you twitch and your hips arch up for more. "She's pulsin' around me," he mutters, his rich voice in your ear, lips brushing against your lobe. His fingers glide in, stretching you as you coat him.

"Ah, she's gettin' all creamy for me," he coos as he pulls them out a moment, licking off one finger and giving the other to you. You taste yourself, salty and sweet, humming in appreciation as you release his digit from your mouth with a pop.

He returns to his work, his hand pistoning against your folds, the squishy sounds of your soaked cunt beautifully obscene to your ears. Your voice trembles as you cry out, a sweet vibrato that resounds throughout the room as Joel's fingers curl in on your g-spot. He adds a bit more pressure to your clit as he tries to get you there. Moaning, he nuzzles his face into your neck.

It feels like you break open under his touch, hips arching up, swallowing his delving fingers deeper inside you as you spasm uncontrollably around him, a string of curses falling from your lips.

You barely have time to recover before he's on you again, moving in front of you as you lay against the pillows, like Venus in a Titian painting. His hands lift your thighs, softly kneading their thickness as he plants kisses on either side, trailing up to your cunt, your scent all around him.

"My husband never goes down on me," you whisper, heart racing as quick as a hummingbird's wings.

"Ain't he a waste of fuckin' space," Joel grunts, a wicked gleam in his eye as he dives in, flattening his tongue to lick a stripe upwards to your needy, throbbing clit. Your hands grab at his hair, pushing him forward as his groan is muffled by your sweet, saturated pussy.

"God.. damn!" you gasp at the delicious feeling of his tongue on you, lapping up every drop, tracing your lips and tickling your clit. He's relentless in his pursuit of making you come, switching up the tempo, adding a finger and then another, praising you when you cry out again. "Squeezin' so hard on me.. she's just about ready, ain't she?" Before he finally suctions his lips around your puffy clit and sucks, humming around it.

It's as if your soul leaves your body for a precious few moments, muttering monosyllables in sweet relief. You've never come so hard before, ever. And when you look up at Joel you wish you could worship him.

"Like the sweetest tea I ever drank," he says, licking his lips.

"Fuck me, Joel," you whine, still not fully come down from your climax.

"C'mere," he growls, putting you on all fours so you're facing the mirror again. You look at your reflection: hair mussed, eyes shining bright, skin glowing from your orgasm. Joel lines himself up behind you, smiling as you watch yourself. "Got every right to look at yourself, darlin'.. someone as fuckin' hot as you, with these hips, this ass?" He grabs one cheek and gives it a slap. You gasp, jolting forward, then wiggle your ass at him, wanting more.

"You a naughty lil' thing," Joel smirks, teasing your folds with his tip. "Wanna get this pretty lil' pussy ruined?"

"Yes, daddy," you moan, pushing back on him.

"Fuck me, I like the way you say that." He bites his lip as he continues teasing you. "Once I fuck you, you'll never let that limp dick husband of yours touch you ever again, I promise you that."

Your reply is cut off when you feel him nudge inside, your walls breached by his thick cock. "Oh god... yes!" you exclaim, clutching the bedsheets. "Fuck.. your cock is so huge.." You can feel the tip just kissing your cervix.

"Yeah, you like it? Like gettin' fucked by this big cock? Gettin' stretched out? Gonna leave a big ol' gapin' hole for your husband to come home to."

He bottoms out, grabbing your ass cheeks with both big hands, watching the smoothness of your skin as your cunt clenches onto him. "God damn what a pretty sight.. you oughta see this. Pussy's barely fittin' me as it is. Only tighter thing would be your little ass.." and he pulls out all the way to slam back in, glorying in the way you scream his name.

"There she goes, gotta get 'er used to me," he grunts, eyes on your swollen pussy lips wrapping his cock in a vise with each steady thrust. "Jesus, sweetheart. So tight I gotta try not to blow my load."

The sound of his name on your lips, the way your body reacts to him, is like gasoline on an already raging fire. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Say my name, baby. I wanna hear it." He quickens the pace, pressing deeper inside you.

"Daddy! Daddy!" you shout in time with each delicious snap of his hips. "My god, you're so fucking deep.." you moan.

"That's it, take all of me. You like the way I fill you?"

"Yes daddy!" Your fingers clutch the sheets as the bed rocks with your movements. "So full of you.."

He presses a hand to your abdomen. "Feel me there, baby? All up in your guts. No one else is ever gonna fill you the way I do. No one's ever gonna come close. This needy lil' cunt's gonna be cryin' for me every day until I come back and give her what she needs."

His dirty talk is getting you wetter, your juices running down between your thighs, making his cock all sloppy, the sound of it making you feral for more. "Fuck me, Joel.. fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme.." you mumble, face down, ass up, slack jawed as you drool on the sheets.

He speeds up, hips slamming against yours, balls thwacking under you. "Yeah? Want me to fill ya up, blow all this fuckin' load inside ya? Got snipped years ago, baby, 's up to you."

"Fill me up, make me dirty and messy," you groan.

"You want daddy to give you everything he's got, baby?" he repeats. "You want me to fill you til you're all messy and drippin' with me?"

"Yes.. yes please," you're barely able to get out.

"Fuck," he growls, grabbing hold of your hips as he pounds into you ferociously. Once he has control he places one hand on your back, keeping you pressed down as he angles himself to hit that delicious little spot inside and he knows he's hit it when you cry out, cursing and shivering, clamping down on him like a damn vise right before he lets go, streaming jet after jet of his hot come inside you. There's so much it's already leaking out while he's still inside you.

The rest of the week you make a list of things for Joel to do next time: perhaps check out what's going on with the washing machine, or maybe he could regrout your bathroom, or help you rearrange your living room furniture right before he rearranges your guts again.

Even Wesley notices the bright and cheery mood you're in, and how attractive you've become since taking on some of the home improvements. That weekend he does you a huge favor, and sits back in his armchair as he waits for you to discover it.

"Wesley? What were you doing in the garage for so long? I heard a lot of noise," you tell him, arms crossed, a look of suspicion on your face.

He looks pleased with himself. "Well honey, you've been so agreeable these past few days that I thought I'd cross off some little projects on your to-do list."

"Like what?" you ask slowly.

He lists off everything you've had planned for Joel to do in the coming weeks. Small things, of course, but Wesley has done all of them, leaving you with nothing for daddy to fix.

"I thought you'd be happy," he says, his face cloudy now that you're unhappy again.

"Happy? Not quite." You leave a moment and return with a hammer, heading towards your husband.

He cowers, ducking as you completely pass him by and swing the hammer into the drywall of the living room wall, over and over again. When you've let your anger out and Wesley is rightfully afraid of your next move, you simply smile sweetly, holding the hammer pressed to your apron with your well-manicured hands. "Looks like I'll have to call the handyman after all!"

dividers by @thecutestgrotto 👑

tagging those who showed interest when this baby was still just a wip: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @604to647 @inept-the-magnificent @clawdeewritesfanfic @manuymesut @bitccchmood @everybodylovedcontractors

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Would love for you to work your magic on this prompt 💜 @shhhsecretsideblog

Heavily pregnant and overdue, she’s been waiting in line for over an hour to meet her favorite author. Unfortunately, the baby’s decided to arrive now. If she could just make it a little longer, she could ask her all of her burning questions about her novel and tell her how appreciative she is of her work!

(birth denial, inconvenient birth, public labor)

What an amazing prompt, your ideas never fail to inspire me!! Thanks my lovely for the ask, really hope you like it 💜

[fpreg, 2500 words]

Dedicated Book Worm

The contractions had started on the bus ride into town, but she ignored them. A few twinges was nothing to worry about, certainly not today; today Ricki was going to the release and book signing of her favourite author’s latest novel. Her stomach was bubbling with excitement and nerves. She'd been a fan of this writer for years now but had never had the opportunity to get anything signed before, let alone meet the writer in person.

Unsurprisingly it was a very popular event at the bookstore and the queue was already pouring out the doors and lacing down the street. She was glad to have gotten here so early, with only a few dozen people in front of her. The downside of arriving so early meant having to wait in line, which wasn’t so great when you were over 40 weeks pregnant.

Ricki rubbed the taut skin of her stretched belly and exhaled a long quiet breath. The cramping had started to ramp up on the bus journey and she tried to dismiss them, but after standing outside for the best part of an hour she was slowly realising these pains were the real deal - consistent and definitely getting stronger. She debated texting her partner, to tell her she was having contractions, but then she’d have to leave this event. Looking longingly through the glass window of the bookstore and seeing the rows of chairs all set up for the author’s reading of the new book, Ricki nodded to herself, determined. She would stay. She had time to get her copy of the new book, listen to her favourite author, and get it signed before she’d have to tell her girlfriend about the baby’s expected arrival. Labour took ages, and this baby certainly hadn’t been in any hurry to be born.

The line was slow-moving when they started letting people in, everyone inching forward every few minutes. As her large belly regularly tightened, Ricki found herself holding it and swaying slightly as she waited eagerly in the queue, thinking about what she might say when she met the famous writer. Her stomach flipped with nerves but then spasmed aggressively, resulting in a soft moan slipping out her mouth as she exhaled. The person in front gave her a worried look after clocking the large and low baby bump hanging off Ricki’s hips. “This little one is just as excited as I am to get a copy of the new book.” Ricki tried to joke and reassure the concerned looks she was getting. But her mind couldn’t help noticing just how frequently her belly was cramping.

All this standing around had put a serious strain on her back, but there was something else, something new; a weighted pressure sitting deeper in her pelvis. Maybe the baby had finally got in the right position. It would be about bloody time, but they wouldn’t be ruining this afternoon for her, Ricki thought to herself.

Eventually she got to the front of the line and presented her ticket for the event. Ricki would be glad to sit down, her back was killing her and the constant cramping of her heavy belly was draining all her energy. “Wow, you look ready to pop.” The bookshop employee said, scanning her ticket and letting the heavily pregnant woman into the cordoned off area. Ricki managed a half-hearted smile, trying to keep her face from showing any signs of discomfort.

Despite the need to sit down, the weight and pressure between her hips was squashing her bladder and Ricki made a beeline to the toilets before the reading started. Thankfully the single unisex toilet was vacant and she disappeared inside. She used the privacy to let out the pained groans she’d been holding in for the last hour, as her belly contracted yet again. “Mnnnnghhhh…. Oh why now…” Ricki moaned, palming the walls of the bathroom and shifting her hips around in large circles. “You can wait a little bit longer. You were quite comfy in there last week on your due date.”

When the contraction faded she used the facilities, noticing quite a bit more liquid leaking into her pad, and hoped that wasn’t the start of her waters breaking. Standing up from the toilet seat Ricki felt the weight quite literally drop back down in her pelvis, the head of the baby wedged harshly against her dilating cervix. “Ooof!—” she clasped her bump, taking a moment to get used to the heavy feeling and the pressure that it brought.

The hustle and bustle of the bookstore was getting louder, the sounds of excited people entering the event seeping through the bathroom door. “Come on bubs, let’s go hear all about the new book.” Ricki said to her bump before leaving the bathroom and going back into the store.

Unfortunately for Ricki the contractions were still coming and getting closer and closer, now almost impossible to stay standing. After waiting in another line to collect her copy of the latest book she had to grasp onto the counter and swallow down the grunt she so desperately wanted to make.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” The girl behind the desk asked, panicked.

“Mmm-hmm.” Ricki gritted and nodded her head, pulling her lips into a forced smile. “Just a c-cramp.”

She needed to sit down, and fast. The labouring woman took the first empty chair she could find in the back row and sighed a heavy breath of relief. She would be okay. She just needed to rest, yes, that was it. Her excitement was heightening everything, that’s all. Holding her copy of the new book in one hand, she rubbed her swollen stomach with the other and prayed the pains would slow down enough to enjoy this event.

Typically there was a delay in the start time, the author had only just arrived and it would be a bit longer before the event could begin. Ricki was sweating by this point, squirming in her seat and trying to keep an even and subtle breathing rhythm. The pressure in her pelvis had suddenly built to astronomical heights and she found herself rocking and quietly humming on the chair. Her hands gripped the edges of the seat, knuckles turning white, as the waves got stronger and stronger. She tried not to clasp her bump so as not to attract unwanted attention, but god did it hurt. The contracting muscles contorting the shape of her pregnant belly was almost visible through her clothing.

She was wearing a pair of wide legged dungarees patterned with sunflowers, a thin black cotton t shirt underneath. Even through the denim like fabric Ricki could see as well as feel the way the whole sphere of her belly hardened, squishing into a solid and narrow torpedo shape over her thighs. “Ooohhhhhhh….” She used the book to fan her damp and sweaty face, no doubt looking flushed in the bookstore, which was already getting steadily warmer as more and more people filled in.

Eventually the host took to the stage and introduced the special guest and Ricki’s eyes widened with glee at seeing her long time favourite author in person, standing only a few metres away. Her belly seized again in that moment, bringing forth a wave of pressure deep between her hips, and she couldn’t stop the groan from escaping her lips. Thankfully her labouring sounds were swallowed by the loud round of applause. Without thought, and focussed entirely on the beloved person at the front of the crowd, Ricki’s legs widened automatically on her chair. Unconsciously finding any way to relieve the building pressure.

Then, the room was silent, the writer stood centre stage with an open copy of her latest book. Ricki was going to hear a new extract, read aloud by the glorious female writer herself, and she waited like everyone else with bated breath.

As the reading began the heavily pregnant woman tried to focus, tried to give this once in a lifetime fangirl moment her undivided attention, but the pressure was getting unbearable. Every few seconds Ricki’s mind was pulled back to the baby in her womb, the feeling of the hard skull sinking deeper into her birth canal, her baby determined to be born today. She panted, as quietly as she could. The thought of attracting unwanted attention right now was mortifying, if anyone discovered she was in labour— No, she was not going to let anyone see her struggle, or give any reason to stop this talk and pull focus from the rightful star.

She lasted about 15 minutes into the reading before it happened, something instinctual and primal tripped a warning siren in her mind. The pressure, it had built too much and now… oh god, now she needed to push. She really needed to push.

It was automatic, she had no control. Ricki’s body slumped slightly in her chair and gripping her book tightly with both hands her uterus contracted and squeezed and…pushed the baby further down. Oh fuck. Her legs were wide on the chair, encroaching into the space of her neighbours. But she couldn’t close them. It felt like she was sitting on the baby’s head. Trapped in another bout of pushing Ricki sucked in a lung full of air and bore down once more. Silently as she could.

The labouring mother lost all track of what the author was saying or reading. Occasionally she’d hear the audience laugh or “awww”, and she was missing everything. All that she could focus on was not giving birth right here in the bookstore. She could make it. She had to. Her girlfriend wasn’t here, and her book hadn’t been signed. She had to make it just a little bit longer.

With every ounce of determination she could muster, Ricky shifted herself upright and painfully pulled her legs together. God it felt like she was sitting on a bowling ball. A whimper slipped from her throat and her eyes screwed shut. The person beside her gave Ricki a concerned look. The labouring woman gritted her teeth and forced a friendly grin.

The reading eventually came to a conclusion, Ricki having succumbed to another half a dozen pushes in that time, but any progress was halted by her posture on the chair and the unforgiving fabric of her dungarees. The owners of the bookstore advised everyone to start making an orderly queue to get their books signed, gesturing to a table and lines of rope set up nearby. Ricki was so close, so close to meeting her idol. Unfortunately the baby was keen to join in.

As she stood the boulder in her pelvis pressed fiercely against the walls of her birth canal and Ricki had to grasp the chair in front of her and instinctively bear down. Oh fuck… she wasn’t going to make it. Her primal grunt wasn’t noticed through the sounds of chairs scratching the floor and numerous conversations erupting around the room. The baby was so low, dangerously low. Feeling like it was sitting just behind her lips, bulging obscenely into her wide-leg trousers.

The crowd around her moved as one, all the guests making their way to the line for autographs. She should have said something, should have excused herself, the baby was quite literally trying to come out right here in the bookstore. Instead, Ricki got caught in the sea of people and somehow ended up in line and surrounded by excited people waiting for autographs.

Just a little bit longer bubs… please. She pleaded with the swell of her belly cradled in her palms. Sweat was dripping down her neck beneath her long hair, her black t-shirt sodden with the exhaustion of her labour. How Ricki managed to stay standing she did not know. Oddly the pain in her hips was easier to manage when upright but gravity was making the pressure unbearable. Whenever a contraction hit she was forced to give in, to bear down with the squeezing muscles, knees bendy subtly and her mouth clamping shut.

They were productive pushes… she was sure of that fact. The baby’s head was slowly but surely spreading her open, her gait unnaturally wide as the baby inched further into the world while she stood and waited in line. Oh god, just— just wait.

This queue moved faster than the one before and Ricki was shuffled forward every few seconds. The author was there, within metres, hair perfectly curled and wearing a flawless outfit. The mum-to-be looked around nervously, realising how stuck in the crowd she had gotten - the only clear way out was forward. Two people, there were just two people in front of her. She had to meet her idol, she couldn’t walk away now, not when she was this close.

Maybe she could time her pushes, was there enough time between them to say Hi, big fan, please sign my book before she had to push again? One person in front now. So close.

Another contraction, oh fuck, and Ricki widened her legs slightly, bending knees ever so subtly and bearing down. The crown in her underwear was getting bigger. It burnt, bringing tears to her eyes. The head was coming out!

“It’s an emotional time isn’t it? Meeting someone you’ve admired for so long.” The person next to her said, bouncing on their toes and excitedly watching the writer sign another book. Ricki couldn’t reply, couldn’t even nod, as her body fully committed to pushing out her baby and bringing it almost to a full crown.

Next. Ricki was next in line. Fuck, what was she gonna do? Before she could form any cohesive thought someone was ushering her forwards towards the desk, towards the friendly smiling face of her idol. The woman’s hand stretched out, ready to take Ricki’s copy of the book to sign.

“Who shall I make it out to?” The author asked kindly, despite having said it numerous times over.

“R-Ricki… w-with an ‘i’…. Oooohhhh….” She stuttered, trying to hold back the groan. Her hands were clasped beneath her contracting belly, every muscle tense and trembling as she fought to hold herself together.

“Are you alright my dear?” The writer asked, staring too long at Ricki’s swollen stomach and the way her fingers were gripped at the fabric of her clothing, knuckles thin and white.

“….no…..” Ricki admitted. “Ooooohhhhh….” The next wave of pressure suddenly hit her like a steam train and any previous plans shot straight out the window. She had to push…. She had to bear down right now…. this second. The burning, the stretching, it was all too much, she had to get this baby out—

“Mmmnnghhhhh!!!!!!!” Grabbing the edge of the desk Ricki bent her knees and dipped her hips as she pushed ferociously, bringing the baby beyond a crown, shoving it past her lips and almost birthing the head in one go.

“Oh my goodness, you poor dear. Someone call an ambulance! This woman is giving birth.” The author said, jumping to her feet and rushing around the desk. “What are you doing here in your condition?” The kind words were accompanied by the writer rubbing her back and holding her hand.

“I just— I just really wanted to meet y-you.”

[linkemon]

Scaramouche (selfship)

Selfship with a school AU and rivals to lovers for mandarynkowy-stworek.

You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested. Other selfships can be found here.

↣ You and Scaramouch didn't like each other since the beginning of the school year. His arrogance annoyed you. On top of that, you were neck and neck in everything. Whether it was studies or sports. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose but he denied it when you made accusations.

↣ Your friends didn't like him either. Mona thought he meant nothing but trouble. In fact, even his friends didn't seem to like him very much. You constantly saw Childe, always full of energy, trying to annoy him. La Signora usually just sat off to the side, fixing her makeup. They never acted like friends.

↣ One day you had the idea to join the school astronomy club. When you saw who else had the same idea, you gritted your teeth. In this way, you were kind of condemned to his company because you were the only first-graders.

Your rivalry continued even there. A few days of stargazing? No problem, each of you wants to do it. A paper for a scientific conference? Both of you already have a topic. Anything else that needs to be done? Ready to help your seniors...

↣ One day you had had enough and asked him what you had done to keep him where you were. He looked at you strangely, denied it and walked away. But since then you saw him less often. Like he was trying to stay away from you.

↣ Soon after, rumors started going around school that he was selling drugs. He denied it but everyone minded their own business. Most people in his class started avoiding him like the plague. He would shrug his shoulders when irritated and walk away. After a while, however, his patience ran out. He pinned Diluc to the wall, telling him that if he didn't shut up, he would punch him in the face. The boy was ready to fight but you intervened just in time. You had a feeling that Scaramouche wasn't evil enough to do that.

↣ After separating them, you followed him. He growled: Why did you come here? He didn't try to shoo you away though. You just sat there in silence.

↣ It was a strange but turning point in your relationship. From then on, you started spending more time with him on the peg and later also outside of it. You felt a bit sorry for him. Usually he greeted you with grumbles or complaints but in time, he stopped.

↣ Childe once came up to you and thanked you. Apparently you were the only girl he knew who didn't annoy Scaramouche, which was an unattainable feat until now. He also hinted that if you wanted to, he'd be happy to go out with you. He was perfectly aware that his friend was listening to the entire conversation with half an ear and was angrily turning a page of his notebook.

↣ Scaramouche was about to get up to intervene when you simply thanked Childe and asked if he thought you had a chance with his friend. You did it mainly to make the boy's ego smaller.

So you were very surprised when, a week later, Scaramouche proposed a bet. If he won the next competition against the Fatui team, you would fulfill his wish. You agreed, because in exchange you could get his not-so-old telescope.

It was a game he really tried. You could see it because there were a few fouls. But the surprise of the day came when he said he wanted to go to the park with you. The cherry blossoms were beautiful in the spring. When you asked if it was a date, he denied it. But those "not dates" started to appear more and more.

↣ You finally decided that things couldn't go on like this. You wanted to know where you stood. That's why you hinted that you were considering a date with Childe. Soon after, the guy broke down and admitted that this time he was inviting you for a romantic walk.

↣ There hasn't been a confession as such yet. You're afraid you'll have to start because Scaramouche won't admit that he's in love.

↣ He is very overprotective. He is always on the lookout for any dangers. He sometimes pulls strings behind your back. For example, if someone talks badly about you or makes your school life difficult.

↣ Scaramouche has trouble talking about feelings and emotions. He also tends to be inconsiderate of how others feel. You have to constantly remind him of that.

↣ Your friends have taken the fact that you're hanging out with him very hard. They warn you regularly every now and then.

But you have some new, unusual friends. You would never have thought you would get along with La Signora. You paint your nails together on the school bench. Scaramouche, on your insistence, agreed to black nails.

↣ The boy wears many hats. One summer you gave him a straw hat and he liked it so much that he didn't part with it the entire vacation.

↣ If someone asked if you were a couple, he would deny it. However, that doesn't stop him from automatically searching for your hand under the table, scaring away your admirers and blushing when you kiss him on the cheek.

↣ His adoptive mother, Ei, is rarely home, so you often spend time at his place. He doesn't like to talk about her too much. She's nice but doesn't interfere too much in her son's life.

↣ The boy has a very average room. As if he himself doesn't know if it makes sense to decorate it. You buy him trinkets so it doesn't seem so empty. He especially likes the colour purple.

↣ You're a strange, unusual couple. Against all odds. Despite that, you wouldn't trade it for anything. Now you just have to muster up the courage or get Childe to help you so Scaramouche admits he likes you...

[voids-ideas]

In the past years I've learned a lot about the us, and i know this are not good things for you to remember, but i will mention them because i want you to know you need to keep fighting

So, things I've been shock to learn about us elections as someone in a third world country:

Your elections are in a (apparently) random tuesday. Middle of the week?

Your work doesn't have the obligation to let you go to vote (In my country election day is... i don't know the word in English. But your job is OBLIGATED to give you time to vote)

Your campaign system is... a show. I don't understand it, but it's like a reality show. (In my country you have specific places where you can do campaign. You can't put it everywhere)

The financial part of a campaign. I don't know if you have rules about this, but it looks like you don't (Here there's a lot of things trying to make everything the most transparent possible)

The absent votes. It's a good idea, yeah. But why the fuck i heard people saying their votes weren't arriving? Maybe that should work. Idk. It seems important

The 40 something felonies? Like ??

Let's just say... the voting system

The amount of misinformation a candidate can say? Like, probably that shit happens here too, but... abortion after birth? It would be an amazing joke if it wasn't him

The amount of misinformation the government makes. I can't give you the link to this, but i know your government has admitted creating channels of misinformation. In foreign countries and in the country. Idk, look at it yourself. I'm just a random that isn't even from there

Musk and Pennsylvania? Wtf are you doing there, white boy?

Adding this one after posting this because it's IMPORTANT: The inscription to vote. I heard people saying they were removed? (It's recent but here is an automatic registration). Idk how easily you can do the inscription, but if you tell me you have to fight a dragon, i wouldn't be so surprised your government did that

Probably forgot something, but this is enough. Like, it wasn't your fault. Everything is against you

So please continue, try to make a difference with the most little things possibles. You have my full support

And in the case someone wants to be here like: You're not even American. Why the fuck are you talking

Babe, it was middle of the cold war. The world was full of tension... and your government decided to help putting a dictator as the head of my country. And for that, now you have to deal with my insufferable presence. Because that bastard died before I could throw hate at him

[sketchy-angel]

Custom Hualian dolls

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

I started this project in February 2022. I originally made a Puqi Shrine diorama out of an old cardboard box. I still have it and I'll post it soon after I make some minor alterations. I just really wanted to share these 2 since I spent so much effort on them.

Back then, I purchased 2 Obitsu 11cm dolls. I bought them on Aliexpress but judging by the packaging and the fact they were around $15 each I'm pretty sure they're legit.

In this blog I'll talk a bit about the process for those unfamiliar with doll customizing and everyone else who is interested in the process. I'm a doll collector but my customizing skills are very rudimentary and mostly rely on winging it and hoping for the best.

And my motto during this process was "nobody's gonna see the back."

I made the prototype clothes back in 2022 and the stitching was ass. And it took me until last week to gather enough courage to start working on the wigs. I originally purchased very cheap doll hair but it refused to cooperate and I decided to use felt instead.

. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊ . 𓇢𓆸

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His clothes were already basically done when I started over. I added the red ribbon details, added the flower nail charm, the red string and I made the wig, of course.

These outfits are by no means historically or cannonically accurate. I had to modify them to accommodate the scale and my subpar sewing skills. I've gotten much better at sewing since then so don't look at those shoulder seams...

And I still don't know what's going on with the back of his red robes. I think I ran out of fabric :-|

The braid is made using a string of black yarn. The vambraces are actually fake adjustable ear cuffs.

I'll show the wig making process more in Xie Lian's section since Hua Cheng's was easier to make. I just slapped a bunch of felt pieces on the wigcap with glue and voilà!

And E'Ming was made using pencils and gel polish on a piece of cardboard and Xie Lian's butterfly was made with the help of a nail sticker and magnetic cat eye polish. In the finished photo you can see a red gem sticker on E'Ming's eye. I don't know how I feel about it. Do your prefer the design without it? I can easily take it off.

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･.˚⊹.

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Xie Lian's outfit and hair was a bit of a challenge but it was fun. I was inspired by several designs and decided to just wing it and make my own outfit instead of recreating an existing one in its entirety.

Also, as you can tell, these dolls have many articulation points that allow for so much posability. I sewed the clothes onto them to keep it in place so they have limited range of movement, especially Hua Cheng, but I'm fine with it. They can still pose nicely.

Instead of making inner and outer robes I decided to make one pair of robes and the second pair that's folded over the shoulders stops at the waist and is hidden by the belt/sash(?) idk English forgive me.

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I tried to make the "main robes" fold over at the waist but I misplaced the rest of that white fabric 2 years ago so I just extended the edges on 3 sides with the sheer fabric from an old curtain and hoped for the best.

Oh, and the shoes are also from Aliexpress. I try not to purchase often from them but I could not find any alternatives...

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The wig making process was... Interesting. I won't show the entire wigcap by itself to spare your eyes so here's balding Xie Lian lol.

The bun was made by rolling felt into a little roll. I then stuck two bigger felt circles onto one side and glued the edges after I cut the outer edges like you would cut a pizza. Does this make sense? Probably not.

Basically, make a rose type thing.

And if you're wondering, the wigs are removable and kind of posable as well.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

And that's basically it <3

I wanted to include better quality pics but it won't allow me to post more than 10 at once so I had to stuff them into collages.

Forgot to mute the video so if you hear my cat wreaking havoc in the background no you didn't.

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I may or may not be working on another project centered around Beefleaf...

When I was a kid, I couldn't afford good quality dolls so I played with small doll-like keychains that had knitted dresses, arms and legs made of string, heads made of painted wooden beads and little beanies on their heads.

I have similar beads laying around so I plan to make similar keychains that look like fem Beefleaf.

Of course, I gotta finish that damn Puqi Shrine and hope my cat doesn't cause it to collapse. Maybe one day I'll make keychain versions of other TGCF characters as well!

ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.

[datesinredink]

Ranking the yandere rottmnt boys by how likely they are to kidnap their darling

Just a little crumb to keep myself from losing my mind while staring at google docs this late at night. Sorry if this is super bad, it's way later at night than I'm used to staying up and election night stressed me the hell out.

Donnie.

I have absolutely no doubts that he's going to at least try very very hard to kidnap you. And honestly, I doubt it would be too hard. He's a highly trained, mystic wielding, tech inventing, mutant ninja turtle. And on top of that, he's very fond of planning absolutely everything. And to finish it all off, I think it would be once in a blue moon that he actually treats his darling as an equal. He already thinks he's better than almost everyone, and when he gets obsessed, he has to make himself feel better about it somehow, so he decides to cope by thinking you need him instead of it being the other way around. As a result, he treats you a bit like a very glorified songbird, and songbirds.. well, aren't they usually put in cages anyway? You won't even care after a week or two of adjustment! (He will get upset if you aren't content with being kidnapped by then, by the way.)

2. Raph

The only reason Raph is behind Donnie on this list is because I think he would take longer to justify it to himself. He thinks you're fragile, that you need to be protected from the harsh world! I mean, he barely trusts his youngest brother, who is also a highly trained ninja, to do a simple mission on his own. How do you think he'll treat you after the obsession sets in properly? Not really as an equal, I'll tell you that. He's much nicer to you than Donnie would be, but he still doesn't respect you enough to let you handle yourself, even if that's not how he sees his behavior. At the same time though... isn't he supposed to be a hero? Do heroes kidnap their darlings? Or would this make him the dragon... In the end though, he'll decide that he's fine with being the dragon so long as he knows that the rest of the world won't be able to run their metaphorical (or maybe literal, depending on how unpopular you are in the area) pitchforks right through your heart.

3. Mikey

Mikey wouldn't just.. outright kidnap his darling, I think. I think it would start with a fun sleepover at the lair! Then he insists you stay just one more day! You're having so much fun, after all! Don't you wanna hang out with your best friend for a while longer? You agree, of course- him and his brothers have been nothing but nice to you ever since you met them, and their company is always a delight, so it's worth a shot, isn't it? Then suddenly, the weekend is over, and school's ready to chew you up again, so you do leave. Then it's finally the weekend again! You've heard of a fun game from your school friends, so you plan on trying it when you get home this afternoon- it's friday, after all- when you get a text from Mikey in the group chat with his brothers. He wants you to come over again- and, of course, you say "sure". Not like you can't just play the game on sunday, or when you go home saturday. The sleepover flies by, but you're a bit weary by the time you're pretty sure you're supposed to go home- but here's Mikey, and he's so sure that you promised you'd stay at the lair until sunday again! So, you give in. There's always next weekend, right...? I think you get the pattern, but eventually, he'll be keeping you at the lair 24/7, and you'll be rubbing at your weary eyes wondering how you got into this mess. Sometimes you can even see his brothers shoot you worried looks.

4. Leo

Leo would only kidnap his darling as a last resort, and I think it's because of two reasons. One, he's the brother who sees you closest to being an equal (Donnie and Raph constantly go against your personal autonomy and Mikey puts you on an extremely restricting pedestal), though to be fair, that's not a high bar to pass- and two he much prefers to have some sort of interesting conflict to be present because he finds it entertaining. His life is a weird, morally incorrect soap opera at this point, and he's the number one viewer. Kidnapping would only really happen with him if he thought you were either seriously leaving him (moving or getting into a serious relationship with someone else) or if the circumstances around him got too stressful and he needed something to cling to for any semblance of support outside his brothers (who, at that point, would probably also be super stressed). Think post movie, when the city is still recovering. Man, he was probably freaking out thinking that you might've died to the kraang.

[aventurineswife]

Part 2 of the last highschool au!Aventurine but make it the famous prom confession from Aventurine after trying to flirt with oblivious reader for months 🗣️ Especially when it's their final prom before graduating

“Can I have this dance?” | Part 2

Summary: On prom night, after months of subtle flirting, Aventurine finally gathers the courage to confess his feelings to you, realizing he’s been falling for you all along. Amid the soft glow of the dance floor, he admits his affection, and you finally understand the meaning behind all his teasing smiles and kind words.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, High School AU, Photography, Fluff, Slow Burn, Prom, Confession, Happy Ending.

A/N: YESSS OMGGG!!! 🤭🤭💖💖💖🫶🫶🫶

(Part 1)

The weeks flew by in a blur of exams, yearbook deadlines, and laughter shared in fleeting glances across crowded hallways. Somehow, in that whirlwind of senior year, Aventurine found himself gravitating toward you, camera in hand, searching the halls for that familiar smile that had changed something in him.

But if he was honest, his task had shifted entirely. It wasn’t just about “Moments of Joy” anymore—it was about catching you in them. And in those quiet moments, camera in hand, he’d tried everything to catch your attention beyond a quick hello or a compliment here and there, but you seemed blissfully unaware of his growing affections. Every subtle remark, every teasing smile, fell on oblivious ears, and it drove him to the edge of exasperation.

It was at the final prom of the year, under the soft glow of string lights and drifting confetti, that Aventurine decided enough was enough. The night was buzzing with the energy of finality—the last dance, the last night they’d all share as students. He’d tried to keep his usual calm demeanor, but his heart wouldn’t listen. Tonight, he’d do what he’d never done before—lay his cards on the table.

He spotted you near the edge of the dance floor, laughing with your friends, your attire catching the light with every turn, your smile as dazzling as ever. His heart sped up at the sight, but he squared his shoulders and strode over, his mind set.

"Hey, can I have this dance?" he asked, voice low, barely hiding the nervous edge beneath his confident tone.

You blinked in surprise but nodded, smiling as you took his hand. “Of course, I didn’t know you danced.”

He smirked, pulling you gently toward the floor. “I don’t. Not really. But I’d make an exception tonight.”

You both swayed together to the slow rhythm, the room fading around you, as if the two of you were the only ones there. He took a deep breath, finally ready to say what he’d been holding back all this time.

“I’ve been trying to tell you something for a while,” he began, searching for the right words. “But I don’t think you’ve quite noticed.”

You looked up at him, confused but curious. “Tell me what?”

Aventurine’s hand on your waist tightened slightly, steadying himself as he met your eyes, every practiced line he’d rehearsed over and over vanishing in the moment. “I think I… I like you. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

The realization dawned in your eyes, your expression softening as a hint of pink dusted your cheeks. “Wait… that’s what all those random compliments and photos were for?”

He chuckled, a little embarrassed. “Yes. Apparently, I’m not very good at this,” he admitted, laughing softly. “I was hoping you’d notice, but it seems I underestimated how… unaware you could be.”

You laughed, a sweet, gentle sound that made his heart swell. “I thought you were just being friendly, but now it all makes sense.”

There was a pause as you looked at each other, and he felt a warmth, a quiet acceptance, radiating from your gaze. The music faded in the background as he leaned a little closer, his heart pounding with both fear and excitement. “So… would you consider giving me a shot?”

You smiled, stepping a little closer, and he saw a spark of mischief in your eyes. “Only if you promise to take at least one photo with me for the yearbook.”

His confidence returned in full as he laughed, pulling you closer. “Done. But only if I get to keep a copy.”

With that, he gently brushed his lips against your cheek, sealing the promise of something new between you, something that he hadn’t anticipated—but was ready to risk everything for.

[lynaferns]

My old glasses are really worn out, my eyesigh got worse and I'm still using the old graduation. I don't like how I look with them anymore either so it is time to change them (also because I can get a blue filter in the glasses to protect the eyes form screens light and I really need that, and this store has a 2x1 offer so I'll have an extra pair half the price just in case :3c)

The two girls working at the store were really nice and tried their best to help me :')

I spend an hour yesterday trying on glasses... I found two models that I liked right at the end. I just. really. hope. I don't regret my choice when the glasses are done and I try them on again.

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[carcarrot]

well that was a shortlived good feeling about my job

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Me: I would really like to begin writing these specific stories from my idea list.

Me, after like one day of serious brainstorming: What if instead you worked on every single other idea you've ever had?

[fingertipsmp3]

I swear to god, if Taylor Swift ends up being the reason I take up running and stick to it, it’s going to be the most embarrassing but also on-brand thing that’s ever happened to me

[readingwriter92]

Finished watching John Mulaney’s new stand up on Netflix and it immediately reccomended night agent??? Those two things seem very different. But since I think I was seeing gifs sets of it on whump blogs i just went. Fuck it. And decided to start.

I’m enjoying. Yep.

[phagodyke]

I feel like my meds keep wearing off earlier and earlier in the day ugh.. having to lie down now im home from work I'm shattered :-(