#i need to find a time and place to clean it because it had been in storage for a While

[noisy-seelie]

Lipstick marks!

In which youre on his lap trying lipsticks, leads to making out with phainon.

Note: its 8:07 am, i never wrote a single line of fanfiction in my life. English is NOT a language im good with.Not proofread, written as my eyelids burn, begging for sleep

Word count: 1k

This contains: author never wrote ff be4, kissing, phainon x reader, suggestive ending cuz we freaky like dat, also suggestivd undertones. Because this was supposed to be smut but i got lazy. Horrifying Crappy kissing description cuz i lowkey forgot how ppl describe kissing

READ FOR PHAINON ART BY ME AT THE END👅

“this one's also not it…” you sigh as you toss aside the 6th—Or 7th?—Lipstick that you had applied tonight. Grabbing another one, a cherry colored lipstick. Applying it then turning your face to look at your pretty test rat-... Lover, phainon.

“remind me…” he stutters, his hands resting on your hips as you sit on his lap “what exactly are you doing again?” he huffs, feeling a little hot. His red face a dead giveaway.

“like i said!” you cup his face and bring him closer “im testing my lipsticks! The smudging, Transferability, and how the colors look on you” you say the last part with a cheeky tone, followed by a wink.

He huffs again as he stares into your eyes and you can't help but admire your work; his face is adorned with different colors of lipstick, his cheeks red as wine and eyebrows furrowed, a small pout on his untouched lips.

You had been teasing him this whole time. Kissing him everywhere but his lips, which you knew he loved to kiss. He was starting to get upset. The slightest pout on his face.

“can you at least kiss me while you torture me?” he dramatically sighs, his large hands going from resting on your hips to settling on the small of your back. Pulling you closer in his lap as he gives you the pleading eyes.

“What do you mean? I am kissing you. Look at all these lipstick marks!” you decide to play dumb, smiling with faux innocence. As if you didn't know what he exactly wanted.

Phainon stares at you for a few seconds before leaning in, in hopes to capture your lips in a kiss. But you were quick to put your index finger on his mouth.

“ah ah, not yet darling” you warn in a sweet voice.

Phainon’s hands twitched on the small of your back, slithering their way to squeeze on your waist. He knew he could easily overpower you, flip you over, and kiss you until his lips bled then lay atop of you to sulk. But he restrained himself.

You chuckle, pulling him closer to kiss his cheeks, nose, forehead, temples, and then the corner of his lips. Making his breath get caught in his throat out of excitement.

Phainon closed his eyes and sighed, his blood starting to rush in all places. He then opened his eyes to look at you, his nails digging in the flesh of your waist, he looks at your eyes with such need behind them, then his gaze fell on your lips. Your cherry lipstick so slightly smudged and he wished you'd let him clean it all off with his tongue.

You hum at him knowingly, and he rests his head on your shoulder with a groan, his arms wrapped around you. Securing you in a vice-like grip “you're driving me insane...” he murmurs against your shoulder, voice muffled yet the obvious need for you was not hideable.

“but you reallyyy love me” you tease, he raises his face to catch a glint of mischief that lit your narrowing eyes and he sighs, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows.

“id be a fool not to adore you, dear. You're the light of my life, I can't help but feel like a moth with how much I'm attracted to you; not in the physical sense, but I can't wander far from you. I always find my way back into your arms as if I'm bound to you by chains, pulling me towards you. which i don't mind”

You caress his cheek, you coo at him “my, such smooth talker you are, are you trying to sway me?” you pinch his cheek and to that he whines “but i must admit i am indeed swayed, id say you fairly earned yourself a ki-!”

Before you can finish your sentence, Phainon's mouth is already on yours. His hand tangles in your hair as he pulls you closer in a hungry kiss. He kisses you with increasing fervor. He nibbles on your lower lip, biting it and dragging his tongue over it like a soothing balm, eliciting a gasp from you to which you feel him grin at the sound. His other arm wraps around your torso, incaging you. Your chest pressed flush against his and you could feel his erratic heartbeat. His tongue slides in your mouth, tasting each corner and groaning in bliss like he had been granted the sweetest nectar. He drinks up your lips like a man dying of thirst and your lips were an oasis. Your arms wrap around his shoulder and your hands snake their way toward his neck, leaving trails of burning fire in their wake.

As to not suffocate, you push him away, he tends to lose himself in it when it comes to you.

Panting in his lap you look at him, flushed face, tousled hair framing his annoyingly handsome face and half-lidded eyes boring Into yours with an affectionate intensity as if he was trying to get your image burned into his irides. Lipstick marks still all over his face except his lips now are smudged Cherry color lipstick.

You stare at him and chuckle, proud of your finished piece of art and he raises an eyebrow.

“you look real cute marked up with my red lipstick, you know?” you tease, not expecting what came next.

Phainon lifted you off his lap and you yielped, he grins with his stupidly charming smile, you were thankful he was lifting you or your knees would have betrayed you when he flashed you his sweet smile.

He threw you over his shoulder like a rice bag, his hand resting on your thighs to balance you, and he headed upstairs. Humming a tune as you flailed around confused.

“you got your fill ’marking me’—as you say—with your red lipstick, so it's only fair I'd get my share too, don't you think? You'll look gorgeous with my own type of red marks”

You were in for a long night, thanks to your lipstick.

A/n: choking myself to death etf man its 8am i should be sleeping but im writting for this fuck ass man instead when im not even a writer، im so deeply in love with this man he made me draw AND write for him at the same DAMN TIME what a glutonous beast

[zottts]

warnings - size kink, degradation, breeding kink (if you squint), not really a warning but worshipping, it's sentry expect it to be mean

you and sentry had been... 'together' for a while now, and you would think he would change somewhat, and he has - just a bit. but during sex? absolutely not, he was still the same man who wanted to be worshiped like a god, who will degrade and belittle you only because he finds it amusing when you moan and cry out his name as he pumps into you at his speed - why would he slow down for you he had l reasonings to, you liked it anyways. the way you could see his cock outline in your stomach, each little "oh you poor thing". it drove you mad, it was addictive. the only time he "went slow" was to put you in your place or fuck with you.

sentry just loved filling you up, every single time, watching your pathetic attempts to squirm under his hands - your almost doe eyes look as you looked up at him, hair all sprawled out on his pillows, mouth slightly ajar as he pumps into you mercifully, being able to see his cock completely fill you, and knowing you couldn't get enough of him. or from behind when he got his hands tangled within your soft locks of hair, pulling you up towards him with a semi-gentle pull, watching your back arch into him as be whispered how pathetic, useless, and stupid you looked being fucked by his cock.

how he is going to fuck you so stupid that you won't be able to walk nor speak for the next week. every little moan, whine, whimper, he would mock the sounds, how you reacted to things which each pump, as he moved in and out of you.

"so filthy. you want more, hm? you think you deserve more?" he spoke softly, despite the fact his tone was mocking,

he would make you beg for it til you were sobbing, trembling under him. it was so easy for him to ruin you, bring you down to nothing. because to him, like this - you were nothing, pathetic.

"sentry- mnn please?" between heavy breaths, it was a pathetic attempt, really. and you knew that.

"no, do better than that, now." he would slow down, painfully slow - and practically stopping until you were up to his standards. he wasn't asking, it was a command.

"sentry" he cocked an eyebrow, the words dying in your throat before you could even finish the sentence, like he was daring you to finish it. to see what would happen

"my god, sentry, ..my everything, p-please." you spoke through a broken sob, he started to move, in and out of you - slowly, on purpose. "aah-! fuck. please, oh my god please" a whine slipped out. you couldn't help that he was big, and it hurt. and he knew he was big too, of course he did. every time he fucked you like this he could always see the outline of himself inside you, the want to bury himself within you, to fill you completely with himself.

he couldn't help the low chuckle slip out of his mouth at your behavior, mmmn. i don't know if that's good enough." he held you in place so easily with his hands, it was like you were stuck in place. "so pathetic, can't even get a complete sentence out, poor thing." he paused for a moment, running his hands against your sides "you want me to fuck you stupid, fill you up?"

you quickly shake your head, it was hard enough to get a single word out - he knew that, but he wanted to hear you say it. "use your words or I'm pulling out." you took a deep breath "please, pretty please? god- please just move i need you so badly, you are the only one i need. just move" the words spilled out before you couldn't even get a thought in your head, the words sounded almost incoherent - it was like a flip that switched on in his brain, instead of belittling you, mocking you - he actually listens.

the after math of it you are out of breath, he went way past the point of your ecstasy. you laid on your stomach panting, hair in your face. he might be a god, an asshole, but not a monster. of course he was going to help you clean up. at least a bit.

[worldsetfree]

Save Tonight - Aizen Sōsuke x Reader

NSFW. Minors do not interact. Post-TYBW, spoiler ahead.

First time writing smut. Wish me luck. Thanks to @bleachsmutfest (shout-out to @villainsrtasty for organizing this) and @byakuyacoochie for convincing me to post this.

This started as a Day 3 drabble that turned into a nearly 1000-word fic, so I present this now for Day 4 of the smutfest: my morally-contentious selfship.

Prompts: Passage + Towels + “Just because it’s dangerous doesn't mean we don't try it”

Thirty-six hours.

Kurotsuchi said it would take thirty-six hours to craft new restraints for the man before you.

The man whom Kyoraku Shunsui, for reasons he didn't express (though his eyes glimmered quite deviously), chose to charge you with. "You've always been good at keeping him in line, right?” he'd teased, like you'd ever had any control over him at all. Like you hadn't joined the very same man in a rebellion two short years ago.

"...I heard you'd died.”

Swallowed up in a sea of darkness at the end of the world, per the rumours. From the shrinking hole in his chest and the arm that crept disgustingly back into shape, you understood their conclusions.

The comment makes his lips curl with delight that's positively nostalgic to see. "A lesser man surely would have."

You hadn't bothered to censor the scoff that left your lips. Utterly ridiculous man. Still so smug and cheshire, despite imprisonment. Yet there he was, wicked and free and radiant as the sun.

For thirty-six hours.

“I missed you, Sōsuke.”

“I knew you would, my dear.”

Finding a place among the ruins of Seireitei to hold your 'captive' proved easier than you'd anticipated (Aizen himself was strangely compliant with his situation), settling into the remains of a home. Its walls were as broken and dirty as your own body in the aftermath of the war, but it would do. You shutter what remains of the curtains while an ever-watchful eye reacquaints itself with your form.

Being near him again is like rejoining a familiar dance. It wasn't long before honeyed words lured you into his desires, his forked tongue inspiring wicked temptation. You should clean yourselves up, shouldn't you? Mayuri has to replace his seals anyway, and haven't you missed the feeling of his skin against your own?

But when your hand stretches outward to remove those barriers, questions begin to burn in your mind: Can you even touch him now? Should you really unleash a god?

Aizen catches this hesitation, and his encouragement burns with the candlelight in his eyes. “Just because it’s dangerous doesn't mean we don't try it.” 

They'll call you a fool for submitting to his will, but you're a moth to his flame, helpless against the want pooling between your legs.

Aizen doesn't move while you release his bindings, allowing you to caress his face and pet his hair once you've removed the seal covering his eye. He remains patient while you reveal your own body to him, and only then does your Lord and lover pounce.

Lost in steam and hot water that envelops the two of you like a dream, Aizen Sōsuke plays a hero and enjoys the spoils of victory without care for time. His mouth renews its claim on your throat, leaving markings that will persist long after dawn breaks. His hands retrace the swell of your breasts to pinch your nipples and pull a reverent breath from your lips.

It's not until your spine begins to arch off the cold tiles and your moans devolve into a siren song that he finally fulfills your request. He greedily takes in every minute detail of your expression as he presses himself into you at last. Oh, how you've needed him.

The slow, methodical journey of his fingertips to the apex of your thighs is deliberately maddening and completely self-indulgent. With your legs wrapped around his hips, Aizen makes you plead and beg for more than tantalizing circles around your clit. "Have you thought of me like this, my love?" he coos in velvet baritones. "Have you needed me?"

His name falls from your lips like a prayer when he begins to move. You're drowning in him, drunk on the feeling of his cock pressing against spots that make you weep. His hands squeeze your plush thighs and hold you to him while he sinks into you again and again. Your own limbs tense to pull him in closer, like you could somehow make him stay if only you held on tight enough, like thirty-six hours won't tick away while you're together.

Your skin burns against his and you begin to feel that coil in your abdomen tightening up, too fast- an ending approaching too soon. Your voice calls out to him a breathless whine. "Sōsuke..." And you feel him exhale against your shoulder. "I know," he rasps. "I know." The way his own breath shakes lets you believe for a moment that maybe he, who needs no one, craved you just as much as you craved him.

Orgasm is nearly blinding and unmakes you before him. Aizen is quick to follow, his hips chasing release before they stutter and press you harder against the shower wall. His lips find your own as he spills into you, hungry and adoring and ignorant of the world beyond you. In the aftermath, you're cradled in his arms like something precious while the water cuts off.

He lifts his head and rests his face against your own once more, obsessed with watching you fall apart for him. Long digits slip between your legs again to rub your needy pearl, and the pleasure nearly ruins you, but you dare not lose yourself without his command. Aizen's gaze captures your own before he speaks against your lips. "Come for me, dear."

The clock ticks forward in a painfully consistent march as he lays you down on the bed. Aizen's head tilts to the side as he looks down at you. Clean, satisfied, and completely his, even now. Your heart swells when he smiles briefly, softness gracing his sharp features. He's beautiful, you think. You want to burn this moment into your eyes forever. But the clock ticks again to shatter your heart once more.

Aizen seems to read your thoughts yet again, his brows furrowing as he watches you. Then he leans in and presses his palms into the mattress around your head.

"Put it out of your mind," he murmurs. "I'll not leave until I've had my fill of you, my darling."

For thirty-six hours, you'll be his, and the way he descends upon you makes you wonder if the shinigami will even be able to pull him off of you when that time is up.

[tawghasa]

I endorse all of this.

I had to change careers in my early 30s (grant-gunded research scientist + four years of no grants in my speciality = redundancy with no hiring opportunities). Here are a few things I learned from that journey:

Consider doing the same job for a different employer. I spent 5 years working for a lab that, in retrospect, had a really terrible workplace culture. I got a position in another lab in the same institute, and the experience was a LOT better.

(It was still rough at times, due to the bullshit I had internalised clashing with similar bullshit my lab supervisor had internalised. But I cried in the bathrooms WAY less.)

There can be a LOT of jobs that are tangentially related to your current job, that no one in your current job is really aware of. Or if they are aware, they overestimate the barriers to getting there.

(E.g., I moved from medical research into intellectual property. I assumed that you would need some kind of legal background for that... But nope!)

On a related note, be sceptical of any career advice you get from people at your hell-job. If they haven't gotten out themselves, they are sharing conjecture, not facts.

Most people have bad resumes and weak cover letters/responses to selection criteria. I highly recommend checking out Askamanager.org, in particular this masterpost of advice for resumes and cover letters. Alison also has a guide for preparing for job interviews that I've used with success (it's free when you sign-up to her mailing list. I think I've gotten maybe two e-mails in the six years since I signed up to get the free pdf).

Being older can be a benefit in the workplace. Some recent hires at my job are in their 50s, and were REALLY surprised they made the cut... But they both have so much experience under their belts, they're very familiar with the norms of a 9-to-5 job, etc. (They're also less likely to look for another job before they retire than younger hires.)

Also, you just know more stuff. You have more experience in having a job, talking to people, doing things. You have more years under your belt of troubleshooting, finding easier workflows, cleaning up messes.

E.g., I hated my time in retail but I know a LOT about how to talk to people: how to give someone bad news without them yelling at me, how to tell them they stuffed up without them yelling at me, how to tell them I stuffed up without them yelling at me...

I have an excellent phone manner and a "customer-centric commitment to issue resolution" which has been a huge asset in both of my post-retail careers - but neither of those jobs had any kind of intentional training/mentoring in those areas! Those are skills I developed in THE shittiest supermarket in South Australia while developing bone damage in my feet because I was standing for 10 hours a day.

A few other bits of advice:

It's hard to be productive outside of work when you work a terrible job that is corroding your soul. It's hard to write a good resume/apply to further education/whatever when you hate your job and you're exhausted and everything is pointless. Don't beat yourself up if it takes longer than you'd like to get anything done.

Make things easier for yourself by asking for/accepting help. Use the Ask A Manager resources, ask friends and family (ideally ones who have jobs they like) to help you with your job search and your application materials.

(Are we mutuals? Do you want some help with a resume? Send me a DM. I can also hop on a Discord call and chat with you about interview prep and technique.)

Try to start prepping now, BEFORE the dream opportunity crosses your path. It's easier to have an up-to-date master resume that you can tailor to the role, than to scramble to pull one together the night applications close.

Reddit can actually be really helpful. There are subreddits for a lot of careers/industries, with posts every few months asking how to either break in or get out. They can also be a good place to ask what the day-to-day is like in a career you're thinking of switching to, which can help you identify any skills you already have that would be an asset/consider whether you'd enjoy the reality of the job. Keep in mind that it's all subjective, and no two people's experiences will be the same.

If you've read this far, try to find time to update your resume this weekend. Even if you like your current job. (That's usually the best time to look at other jobs - you're not desperate, so you're in a strong position to negotiate any offers.) Because if you've read this far through a thread about changing jobs/careers, you're probably interested on some level in doing the thing.

I’m thinking of doing a complete career switch- or at the very least, making an attempt to start it- and the idea is frightening for so many reasons- money, feeling like I’m behind, insecurity, family- but then i think of just sticking to the path I’m on and it sends me into a crying fit so. I think I’m going to have to be brave

Be brave! I changed industries at age 41 and it was so good for both my career and mental health.

It sounds silly to have to outright say, but if the thought of going to your current job makes you cry every day, it is time to LEAVE. You are not the first person I have had to give this advice to this week. The longer you stay in a dead-end job, the more your skills will rust and the inertia will drag you down.

It feels frightening, but you can get through the imposter syndrome by becoming a thorough note taker (assuming you are white collar, but a lot of this also applies to blue):

Capture every conversation you have

Immediately distill meetings and emails into to-do lists

Review your to-dos daily

Most importantly: write down your accomplishments, no matter how small, at the end of every week

Notes by hand helped me so much, and my little treat to keep going was to begin a fresh mini-notebook every 2 weeks, which I could decorate with ink stamps and washing tape. I used a different color gel pen every day, too. My notebooks were fun and super helpful with keeping me organized.

You will catch up soon enough. It sucks to be an older person in a junior role, but you will be more mature and hopefully adept at handling work drama. I hit senior at age 47 after doing my time, and now I'm pretty indistinguishable from the folks who beat me here.

People aren't meant to do the same thing for all their lives, if it means sacrificing other opportunities. It's ok to say goodbye to a career or hobby or whatever else, to make room for something new. Don't feel guilty sampling from life. Specialization is for insects.

[spicywreck]

Season 4 AU where Mike leaves Rachel after finding out about the kiss but doesn't want to go back to Pearson Specter. He's done living as a fraud. Harvey, feeling guilty and sympathizing with Mike's pain, offers up his guest room to stay at while he figures out his living arrangements (Mike doesn't want to go back to his apartment because it was Rachel who made it look like a home... it all feels too much like Rachel.)

It's hard to live with Harvey because Mike knows that Harvey expects great things from him, but right now he's adrift, clueless, at times he doesn't know what he likes; did he ever know what he really wanted?

Harvey tries to make it easy for him: he doesn't ask for rent, offers to pay for groceries, buys Mike a new bike when his old one ultimately falls apart. Mike wishes to return his genorosity so he starts cleaning around the house, tidies up the place, makes dinner (his famous Grammy's spaghetti sauce) on the days he knows Harvey has had too much take out.

They build a routine, Mike and Harvey. They have breakfast together. They text each other throughout the day. They plan movie nights. They go out for drinks every Friday.

(tags for under the cut: domesticity, misunderstanding, love confessions, soft & yearning!Harvey, mild sexual content, Mike and Harvey are in love and meant to be, your honor!)

Mike doesn't even realize their dynamic has changed till he watches Harvey reject a pretty waitress, "It was nice chatting, but we're gonna have to go home pretty soon. Early morning."

Which is bullshit. Harvey doesn't have "early mornings", he arrives to the office whenever he damn well pleases. Mike confronts him when they get home (and when did he start seeing Harvey's apartment as theirs?), which Harvey first rebuffs as "letting the girl down easy". Mike calls him out on it.

"You haven't brought anyone since I moved in," Mike says, feeling flustered for some reason. "You haven't gone out with anyone, actually! You spend all your free time here—with me."

"Mike," Harvey warns, voice sharp and authoritative; so reminiscent of their old dynamic. "Just let it go."

"No. I'm not letting it go!"

Because Mike is stubborn. Mike knows Harvey is lying to him. Mike's brain won't let him forget Harvey's softness in the mornings, Harvey's easy smiles, Harvey's dorky nature behind closed doors. He can't. He won't—

"Just tell me if I'm an inconvenience to you," Mike finally says. "Just... You need to stop living your whole life around my comfort. I'm a grown man. I can find a job. I can get a new place. I can stop bothering you."

Harvey stares him down, face hard, unreadable. Mike's insecurities rise to the surface at that expression.

I have been bothering you, he thinks. And starts walking to the exit, keys in hand, mind racing for solutions: to get a new place, to save his friendship with Harvey.

Mike makes it about three steps before Harvey stops him.

"You were always shit at reading people," he says, still standing exactly where he is.

Mike turns back, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Mike," Harvey sighs, letting the poker face fall; letting Mike see the vulnerability in his eyes. "I didn't invite the girl back to my place because I didn't want her here."

"Because you need your privacy—"

"Because I haven't wanted to invite anyone back to my place since you've moved in," Harvey corrects. "Because... I want to take care of you."

Mike's mouth falls open. "...What?"

"I want to take care of you," Harvey repeats, drifting his gaze down to the floor; and wow, is Harvey Specter actually nervous? "I want you here, in our home, till— Fuck, Mike. I want you in my life. I don't want anyone else."

Mike continues to stare, dumbfounded. Till his brain finally clicks it for him.

"Oh my God, you're in love with me."

Harvey shrugs, too nonchalant for Mike's liking.

"Harvey—"

"You can stay as long as you like," he cuts him off. "And I don't expect anything, alright? If you're uncomfortable, I can find you a new place right away. But I swear, Mike, don't leave before you're ready just because I said—"

Mike strides across the room on a mission.

He grabs Harvey's cheeks, lifts them up, forces those deep brown eyes to look back at him—and spots the heaviness in them.

Mike won't ever forget. He wouldn't even if he had the choice. The great Harvey Specter, looking at Mike Ross with only love in his eyes.

"You're in love with me," he whispers, dazed. "With me, Harv."

Harvey's eyes twist in pain, and no, no, no— Mike won't allow that.

"You dumb son of a bitch," Mike tells him, which makes Harvey snap from the pain, even if irritated. "I thought you read people for a living!"

"Mike—"

"Harvey, I've been in love with you from the fucking beginning!"

It's Harvey's turn to look out of place, lips parting in shock, eyes softening at the confession.

"God, Mike," and he murmurs his name with so much longing it... Mike's mind is made up.

He cuts the distance between them, smacking their lips together. It's not a perfect kiss, by far. Their noses bump into each other. The movement was too brash, too hard. But he felt Harvey sigh against him. He heard his moan. It was everything.

Harvey's perfect manicured hands come to rest on Mike's hips, pulling him further into Harvey's space. They caress his waist. They find their way under his shirt. Mike gasps as Harvey's warm fingers grip his bare skin.

"Mike," Harvey moans, before his teeth come to pull on his lower lip. "Oh, Mike. We wasted so much time."

Mike imagines brushing his hand down his hair, imagining how it might feel, how it would be like to caress the back of his head. Except Harvey is kissing him on the mouth with tongue. So he doesn't have to imagine anything. He does exactly what he wants, and is surprised at how soft his hair feels. How good it is to hear Harvey groan as Mike's fingers touch his head.

Harvey brushes his forehead against Mike's. And Mike smiles, knowing they can never go back; he doesn't ever want to go back.

"Let's not waste one more second then," he says, and brushes his lips over Harvey's warm neck, sucks a kiss right over his pulse—because if you're closing the love of your life, you go all in.

"God, Mike," Harvey moans his name like it means everything. Mike whimpers without meaning to.

At that, Harvey's hands drift below. Fondle Mike's ass.

Then pulls him up by the back of his thighs. Mike's makes a surprised sound—he did not yelp—and his legs wrap around Harvey on instinct.

Harvey looks up at him with more than amusement. A fondness, he thinks. Sees it.

Harvey smiles like he just won the biggest poker game in his life. Mike can't help but laugh at how soft he looks.

Which Harvey shushes quickly with a second not-so-perfect kiss; a bit too much tongue.

And delivers Mike to the main bedroom. Lays him down on the soft silk sheets. Kisses him, over and over; those kisses turning more perfect by the second. Harvey touches Mike. Makes him come to the point of exhaustion; so, so much, one orgasm after another, till his eyelids turn heavy and he can't help but fall asleep on Harvey's bed.

Which was totally the plan. Because Harvey wakes him with lingering kisses the next morning. Whispers, "I love you," into the back of his neck. Doesn't let him get up till Mike has had another earth-shattering orgasm given by the one and only Harvey Specter.

"I could get used to this," Mike croaks, once he finds the energy.

"Good," Harvey says, all too proud of himself. "Because I have no intention of letting you go."

The amazing Mike Ross snickers. Kisses the confusion off Harvey's face. Before proclaiming, "I was never planning on leaving either, dumbass."

Suffice to say, they don't leave their bedroom till much, much later, when their stomachs beg for sustenance other than each other.

[netflixbingger]

Cassian Andor x Senators Daughter Reader Series Sneak Peek 👀

Okay yes… I know I haven’t finished the last series yet (I swear I will, next chapter is out soon!!)

But I’ve been fleshing out this new one and… I kind of love it??

I’m really leaning into soft girl vibes with this one… something we don’t get enough of with Cassian, if you ask me 👀

So without further ado, here’s a little sneak peek of Chapter 1!!!

You wake to the sound of your name.

Not softly, not in the dreamy sort of way it usually is when your maids draw the curtains and ask what you’d like for breakfast. No, this time it’s firm, clipped—your father’s voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

“You need to get up.”

You roll over with a groan, dragging the sheet over your head like it’s armor. “It’s not even nine.”

“It’s past nine.”

“So?” you mutter, muffled by your silk sheets and stubbornness.

There’s a beat of silence. Then: “We don’t have time for this today.”

You peek out from under the sheet, squinting up at him. He’s already dressed - navy coat, clean lines, expression tight in that way that means something’s happened. Something real.

That pulls you upright.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, silk nightgown slipping against your skin as you blink yourself into the day. Your room is still a dream - soft golds, tall windows, sunlight spilling in like honey. It doesn’t feel like anything could be wrong here.

But your father’s jaw says otherwise.

“What?” you ask, voice still scratchy from sleep.

He hesitates, just for a moment, and then exhales.

“There’s been chatter,” he says. “The Empire’s been sniffing around the shipments. They’re starting to notice the rerouted funds. And now… there’s a name.”

A pit opens in your stomach.

He shakes his head is disbelief. “It’s only a matter of time before they connect the rest.”

You cross your arms. “Then we tighten things. We move accounts again. We wait it out.”

“We can’t wait this out,” he says, and now he’s really looking at you - like a father, not a senator. “They’ve already made contact with the district enforcers. One wrong whisper, one loose-tongued dinner guest, and —.”

You narrow your eyes. “I haven’t told anyone anything. I’m not stupid.”

“No,” he agrees quietly. “You’re not. Which is why you’re going to listen when I say this…your freedom, the way you move, the life you’ve had until now - it’s over.”

That stings more than you expect.

You blink at him. “Excuse me?”

He softens, just a breath. “We don’t have that anymore. The luxury of pretending.”

“So what then?” you snap. “You want me to stay inside all day like some ghost? Be quiet, be good, smile politely while the Empire circles us like vultures?”

“No,” he says, and you hate how calm he is. “I want you to stay alive.”

You stand there, breathing hard. Heat pools behind your eyes, and you hate that too.

“Someone will be arriving shortly,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. “From the Rebellion. A soldier. He’ll be stationed here until we can get you out. Maybe longer.”

You stare at him. “You’re giving me a babysitter?”

“I’m giving you a bodyguard.”

“What’s the difference?”

He only sighs. “You’ll find out.”

———————————————————————

You slip into a soft summer dress. Pale yellow, low at the back, open at the shoulders. Something expensive and breezy. It hugs you in all the right places. Your skin glows. Your hair falls in loose waves. You look stunning, and you know it.

You descend the stairs slowly, heels clicking with deliberate grace. When you reach the bottom, you pause at the final step - because there he is.

Your new shadow.

He’s talking to your father in the foyer. Dressed in black worn boots, flight jacket, stubble on his jaw like he’s never been taught what proper grooming is. He’s not tall, not particularly broad, but something about him feels… dense. Sharp around the edges.

He looks like someone who doesn’t smile unless he has to.

As if sensing you, he turns.

And for one moment, his eyes flicker down. Barely.

Then they’re back on your face, unreadable.

You arch a brow. “So. You’re the watchdog.”

He doesn’t reply.

Your father sighs. “Cassian Andor, this is my daughter Y/N.”

———————————————————-

Thoughts?!?

This one’s definitely leaning softer… less gore, less darkness, more fluff, tension, and slow-burn vibes.

I’m still debating whether to take it down a heavy sexual tension to smut path, or keep it more focused on the fluff and emotional build-up.

Would love to hear your thoughts!

Do you prefer smutty tension or tender romance?

[urautismdiagnosis-wistie]

STRANDED ON AN ISLAND KWAZII TRAUMA POST its rlly long lmk if I should split it up

No I will not provide context to how he got there at the moment,but I will let you know he was stranded for approximately 2 years from 12 to 14 (specific numbers may change) for the sake of plot while I am basing the island off of thr ogasawara islands of Japan, the island hes on is alot more isolated, smaller, and unpopulated by people 👍

Trigger warnings: a child dealing with survival issues like hunger and sickness, raw meat, wild animal corpse, mentions of intense psychological distress, small wild animals dying

They're not all gonna be in chronological order btw ✨

◇◇THE BEGINING ◇◇

so the lil shrimp wakes up on a rocky shore with a busted life boat. The suns hot, there's a bird picking at him to see if he's dead, and luckily there's a lot of resources like rations, a medicine kit, and survival guides that all survived. He'll need those

Lil dudes in shock, doesn't rlly understand what's going on, just that he's on an island that seems decently sized, but definitely not large enough for any real settlement, and that hes really glad his grandad taught him about surviving on an island. Yay family tradition ig

He spends a bit of time recovering his strength, he hadn't exactly been in great shape from even before he crashed, and follows the birds for maybe a natural water source and some kindness,the sense of horrific dread be damned.

Okay cool, so hes like stranded stranded and apparently not only did the stormy weather send his little life boat to some island that apparently NO ONE EVEN SAILS NEAR (the birds happily informed him, because they love their home thank u very much) but there seems to not be a single flowing stream or anything of the sort on the entire island :)

Water rations cant last forever, and while cats CAN actually drink salt water to survive, that's only in smaller amounts... :/ they'll get sick if they have too much... so needless to say he got quite ill for some time, luckily the first (and worst) time it happened he had rations...

This actually takes place on a smaller island near Japan, so its rather mountainous and any clean water resources on a small island would have to be a natural spring. Because of the islands isolation and little above ground water resources... They're often vulnerable to droughts and etc... fun for kwazii ain't it!

Needless to say the search for fresh water was... an endeavor. One where he did get sick from drinking unfresh water unfortunately, but he did manage to find a small spring so yay kwazii! It wasn't even too far from the lil high up cave (wall hole) he managed to claim for himself!

He did manage to figure out a fishing system (there's non sapient/sentient animals in my au) using what tools he had even though it was pretty difficult. He uh, may have gotten sick from scavenging a few times. Yk, poisonous berries n whatnot. Luckily cats can rely more on meat and less on vegetation and still be ok. That includes raw meat (still tastes BAD) in a pinch so lucky kwazii huh?

Here's a lil sketch I made of his lil cave <3 ill probably finish and color it at a later date 030

Anyways, after kwazii manages to somewhat stabilize his whole survival situation, he decided to try and yk. Escape. But uh...

Well kwazii definitely knew how all manner of ships and boats worked! But... having all the construction skills and physical strength at age 12 or 13? Esp in HIS situation? Mmnnnnahhh not happening

Not to mention he was basically just using whatever wreckage from the life boat he could repair and whstever he could get from the island

He did know where he was for the most part due to the stars and some general knowledge on where he was from before he shipwrecked. But...

Well needless to say there was a series of failed attempts. Kwazii always seemed to end up right where he started, maybe even more behind than before. Totally didn't lose more and more hope each and every time hahahah! On onenasty instance where he hit some rocks was lucky there were some friendly dolphins nearby or he wouldn't have made it to shore. They became friends afterwards, so kwazii wasn't horribly alone. After all who needs people interaction when you have wild animals :) especially in your developmental teen years!

TIME FOR RANDOM TIDBITS OF ANGST 🗣

So :) wild animals! Not always very friendly! Anyways there were alot of invasive rats and hogs on the island... and well... let's just say in my au hogs and pigs have developed to be more... predatory to fill in the gap left from certain wild animals not being wild....

black rats are an invasive species especially in the ogasawara Islands. They damage the ecosystem by predating on sea birds,snails, and insects, as well as destroying native vegetation.

In my au well.. they aren't the most intelligent animals buuuuuuuuutt.... they all know a cat is a cat. Anyways unrelated but you'll NEVER GUESS who not only kept getting their food stashes eaten, supplies damaged, and even CHASED by a lil swarm of rats every so often! Also they carry disease. Fun times!

Feral pigs of ogasawara irl mostly damage biodiversity through destroying native plants by destroying them and spreading nonnative plants. Also attacks from them to humans have been "on the rise" so...

Anyways! Guess who gets routinely chased by wild territorial boars!!! Hahaha isn't it great that even when you climbed a tree the boar still kept bashing and shaking the tree and refusing to leave for a whilleeeee. Hahahaha really fun.

◇◇◇KWAZII EATS SOMETHING DEAD AND RAW HERE

Also one time kwazii was so exhausted and tired of random rats attacking and trying to bite him or getting into his supplies- hes exhausted and miserable and constantly alert and- well instincts kick in and he swipes at the thing so hard it immediately dies on impact

This was a bit earlier on, and kwaziis food supply was especially... low. So there he was. This 12 year old in the blistering heat, exhausted and starving and at his wits end... staring at the bloody corpse of a particularly large twitching rat. The rats can only manage 2- maybe 3- words at most. yk " FOOD!!!" "MINE!!" And maybe a slur. Not very... intelligent or aware.

So maybe kwazii zoned out when he smelled the flesh. So maybe when he zoned back in he was hunched over a desecrated small corpse with the taste of disgusting nasty rat overwhelming his tongue, mouth,throat, and nose. Maybe he screamed and maybe he cried. Maybe he couldn't handle seeing mangled flesh. It was too soon, something too familiar-◇◇◇

Oh also the

◇◇◇snake thing◇◇◇ (tw snake death?)

Sooooo, let's just say that well , maybe our lil guy had been yk. Out and about, trying to tie some rope and vine for his make-shift sail boat.

Let's also say that there may have been a habu viper, not native to the ogasawara islands (where kwazii is) but the ryukyu islands. They can be very bold and aggressive, often territorial. They also lay their eggs in the summer. (Which is very rare for pit vipers, since most give live birth)

Long story short someone went to grab a rope without looking, accidentally grabbed a snake that attacked him, nearly avoided being bitten by a venomous viper by stabbing it through thr SKULl with a dagger,and then cried about it for hours and held a little snake funeral for the snake that tried to hurt him

He also may have found the snakes eggs, and feeling wretched about his crime (leaving them all alone in the world without their mama 🥺😓) ,he decided to attempt to protect and raise the baby snakes to try to make up for it. Even though he felt guilty about killing the mom snake..

Of course he did know that snakes don't form bonds, but he just wanted to take care of them. They did sorta just slither away right after hatching, instincts telling em to go hunt n whatever, but he did protect them from being eaten and help one that was stuck in its shell. Even hummed them lullabies he remembered. They did thank him when they hatched btw

..............

Thats all the specific little incidents I want to share right now lol but bro is WAY too casual about being stranded on an island istg 😭😭😭

Lmk yalls thoughts 💅

Tags for people who were interested when I asked if yall wanted this >v<

@askkwazii @hannahstales @murkywaterzz @brownyanyk @sc6rl3t @lydiabop

[abluescarfonwaston]

Getting the sense the other engineers who were concerned my job was too big for one person are very correct.

[an--artistic--autistic]

I HAVE ACQUIRED A ROLLATOR 🎉🎉🎉

[david-watts]

I want to off myself

[teaboot]

Things you can do as a security guard instead of acting like a dickhead: a vent post disguised as advice

Offer alternatives: IE, “Sorry, nobody’s allowed to hang out over there, but we have seats over here you’re welcome to use”. I recommend getting familiar with local parks, public seating, free food programs, outreach, mobile aid, etc., just in case those are needed.

Be polite: IE, “Excuse me, sir”, “I beg your pardon, miss”. This should go without saying but everyone deserves dignity.

Avoid phrasing requests as orders: IE, “Don’t stand in front of that” VS “Excuse me, could you move a bit to the side?”. This works best with an explanation, like, “There’s a sign behind you”, or, “you might get clipped by someone”. This helps communicate that you are asking for a reason, not just throwing your weight around. If you don’t have a reason, rethink whether or not you need to be doing anything.

Avoid directing blame or fault. Don’t say, “The owner says you gotta go” when you could say, “I’m not supposed to let people be here for X period” or “do X thing”. Again, try to have alternatives ready so people can use other resources or do something else instead of just abruptly changing plans.

Come from a place of compassion whenever you can. People are gonna tell you to get rid of the crazy screaming guy. They say that because they’re frightened and don’t know what to do. Your best approach is, “Hello sir”, followed by, “How are you today?”, “how’s it going?”, “are you doing alright?”, etc., depending on what the person is ACTUALLY doing / saying when you get there. You can offer help from there if needed, or leave them alone if they’re not in danger or a risk to anyone.

Remember you’re not a cop. This can mean whatever you need it to mean. For me personally, that means that with incredibly rare exception (like trying to sell to kids, contaminating other’s food or drink) I won’t report you for drugs. If I find you doing drugs on my site I’ll tell you a different place where you can do them instead and ask you to do them there. I have interrupted drug deals to ask the client and the salesman to both kindly move 15 feet to the left, I’m not kidding, I do not care.

Know who you can throw under the bus. Sometimes you gotta enforce rules and be the bad guy and if that’s the fault of some dipshit in a suit 200 miles away, you can say that. Sorry man, I can’t let you park your car on the lawn. I know you’re not hurting anyone and frankly I think lawn culture is stupid but there’s other parking stalls and if my boss sees you I’ll get a write-up for not doing my job. Shit sucks sometimes but if it wasn’t me telling you it’d be the new guy, and between you and me he’s an idiot and he’ll probably just report you to bylaw.

Don’t just act like you’re their friend, genuinely try to be a good friend. If you know that someone is doing something that will only result in a bystander phoning police, don’t let them go down like that. Let them know, “hey man, you seem like you’re having a shit time and I get it, I’ll do what I can, but we gotta have this conversation somewhere else ‘cause we’re freaking out the old ladies.”

Swallow your tongue. You can’t fix the world. People are gonna bitch at you about communists and 5G and gangster rap ruining the neighbourhood, that’s just part of the deal. Nod along, remain neutral, shut down any hate speech, redirect if you can, and keep a limit in mind where you’ll have to shut things down.

Accept that sometimes there are no solutions. Yes, that angry guy who blasts music will be back tomorrow. That homeless woman who asks you to help her find her dog that she hasn’t had in 30 years will ask again, and yes, you’re still going to take a description and promise to keep an eye out. That kid who smokes crack behind the building has been clean for a few weeks and still stops by to say hi, and you hope he’ll get his life together and be happy, but he also might relapse and OD before he hits 25. Sometimes you just have to do the best you can, even if nothing is guaranteed.

Be kind to teenagers. Being a kid is hard, and everyone’s on their ass all the damn time for everything.

Remember that the vast majority of bad people aren’t bad, just unhappy. The guy who keeps showing up drunk and puking on the carpet is unhappy. The lady who bitches about the service every single time and keeps coming back anyway is unhappy. The guy who leaves trash everywhere is probably unhappy. If they were happy, maybe they’d do better, but they’re not, and that’s kinda sad. You don’t have to let them get away with their shit, but they probably aren’t actually a worthless human being either.

It doesn’t matter if 12 is true or not. You need to believe it or you will become a harsh and bitter person. Look for evidence that people are not terrible and invent it if you have to

Don’t let yourself become a bastard

[daxisyzz]

Marked What's Mine

Pairings: husband!bucky barnes × wife!reader

Summary: You can hold your own—always have. But that doesn’t stop your husband from going full Winter Soldier mode when he sees someone laid a hand on you.

Warnings: Language, injuries, soft-but-intense husband!Bucky, protective behavior, possessiveness, comfort, fluff, violence mentioned (not graphic), "who did this to you?", lots of banter.

Word count: 1.3k+

A/n: this fic is from my poll where husband au and who did this to u prompt won. I will do the enemies to lovers in my next fic. Thank you for reading <3.

Divider credits: @saradika

Night- 1:47 AM

You turned the front doorknob with all the delicacy of a trained assassin—which, to be fair, you were.

No sound. Good.

You stepped inside, sliding your shoes off silently and tiptoeing like the floorboards might narc on you. You could practically hear your heartbeat in your ears.

He’d be asleep. He had to be.

You could get to the bathroom, clean up, hide the worst of it. He didn’t have to know. You didn’t want him to worry, to spiral. Not again.

You made it three steps down the hallway.

Then— “Don’t move.”

Shit.

His voice cut through the silence, low and lethal. It came from the living room.

You closed your eyes. "Hi, honey. I'm home."

A light flipped on.

Bucky stood by the couch, arms crossed, half in shadow. The sight of him—barefoot, hoodie loose over his broad chest, hair tousled from waiting up—would’ve been comforting, if not for the look in his eyes.

His gaze traveled from your face to your arms, your ribs, where blood had started to seep through your shirt.

He didn’t say a word.

You tried to play it off. “Before you say anything, it looks worse than it is—”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Who did this to you?”

You exhaled slowly. “Buck—”

“Don’t. Just…” His jaw clenched. “Stay right there.”

“Bucky, it’s fine. I dodn’t even need stitches—”

“You’re bleeding.” His voice trembled with something dangerous. “You’re limping. You snuck into your own damn house like a thief because you knew I’d lose it if I saw you like this. And guess what? You were right.”

He was in front of you in three long strides.

His hands—warm, shaking—came up to cup your face, careful to avoid the bruises.

“You weren’t supposed to see me like this,” you whispered. “You’d only worry.”

“I worry when you’re five minutes late for lunch. You think this is gonna lessen that?”

“I’m not made of glass—”

“You’re made of everything I live for.”

Your breath caught.

He scanned your injuries with haunted eyes. “Who did this?”

“It’s not important.”

“It is to me.”

You sighed. “I didn’t want you to spiral. Last time you saw me with a busted lip, you threatened to drown a guy in the Hudson.”

“I should’ve.”

“Bucky—”

“Tell me his name.”

You met his eyes. “If I do, you’ll find him.”

He didn’t deny it.

“And if I don’t?” you added.

“I’ll find him anyway.”

You groaned. “You are the most dramatic man I’ve ever met.”

He lifted you into his arms like it was nothing—like you didn’t have two working legs—and carried you down the hall.

“I’m intense,” he corrected. “Not dramatic.”

“You literally brooded in the dark waiting for me to get home.”

“You really thought I wouldn’t notice? Like my wife could come home hurt and I wouldn’t feel it in my chest?”

You let out a weak laugh. “God, you’re annoying.”

“You married me, doll. That’s on you.”

Twenty Minutes Later...

You sat on the bathroom counter while Bucky dabbed antiseptic over the cuts along your ribs, his brows furrowed like each mark physically hurt him more than it hurt you.

He hadn’t stopped touching you.

Even now, his thumb rubbed soft circles into your thigh as he worked.

“Doesn’t even sting,” you said.

“That’s not the point,” he muttered, placing another bandage carefully. “You came home bleeding. You flinched when you took your shirt off. You snuck in.”

“I didn’t want to see your sad little kicked puppy face,” you teased.

He glared. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“No, you’re lucky I love you. You’re high maintenance.”

“Says the woman who took on a six-foot mercenary solo and got cracked in the jaw for it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think I didn’t win?”

He paused. “Wait. You won?”

“Cracked three of his ribs and made him cry.”

He stared.

Then—slowly—he grinned.

“That’s my girl.”

You tried not to bask in it, but you totally basked in it.

Still, he wasn’t done.

As he finished wrapping the final gauze, he stood between your legs and stared at you like you held gravity in your hands.“I breathe for you,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “That’s it. That’s the only reason I get up in the morning.”

Your throat went tight. “Bucky—”

“You come home hurt, and it feels like the world’s off its axis. I can’t think. Can’t function. You’re not fragile, babe. You’re the strongest person I know. But the thought of losing you? I’d lose everything.”

God.

You buried your face in his chest, arms tight around him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Too late. You did. You always do.”

You looked up. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

He grinned and kissed your forehead.

Next Day – 2:00 PM

You woke up to an empty bed and a note on the pillow:

Had to step out. Be back soon. Don’t move too much or I’ll find out and carry you around like a baby until you learn your lesson. I love you more than oxygen.

—B <3

You rolled your eyes.

And sighed.

And smiled.

He came back at sunset. Calm. Too calm.

You didn’t even have to ask.

“You found him, didn’t you?”

He dropped his jacket. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“He’s not gonna be walking straight for a while.”

“Bucky…”

“And probably won’t be talking much either.”

You stared at him.

“He’ll live. Probably,” Bucky said with a shrug. “I was nice. For the first ten seconds.”

“Jesus—”

“He laid a hand on you. You really think I wasn’t gonna rearrange his face?”

You huffed, arms crossed, but you were secretly touched. And maybe a little turned on.

“You are so dramatic.”

“No. Dramatic is you sneaking past your literal super soldier husband with blood dripping down your shirt.”

“Fine,” you muttered, walking toward him. “You win.”

He caught you easily, arms pulling you in.

“I always win, doll,” he murmured, kissing your bruised temple. “Especially when it comes to you.”

The Next Morning – 9:07 AM

Sunlight filtered lazily through the curtains, painting golden stripes over the bed where you were curled up like a cat. One leg over the sheet. A little sore. A little achy. But warm.

Bucky stirred beside you, his metal arm slung protectively over your waist.

“You awake?” you mumbled.

“Was watching you breathe,” he rasped, voice still sleep-rough. “You twitch your nose when you’re dreaming.”

“You’re creepy.”

“You married me, sweetheart. This is your fault.”

You snorted, rolling to face him, wincing a little. He was already awake, already watching you with that look. Like you were sacred. Untouchable. His.

“You hurting?” he asked immediately, shifting to sit up. “Need painkillers? Water? I can carry you to the bath—”

“Bucky.”

He blinked.

“I’m okay. It’s just a bruise, not a broken limb. Stop hovering.”

“I’m not hovering.”

“You’re three seconds from spoon-feeding me cereal.”

“…Is that an option?”

You groaned and buried your face in his chest.

“You’re insufferable.”

He chuckled, warm and smug, tucking you tighter under his chin. You stayed like that for a while. Tangled limbs. Warm sheets. His fingers trailing soft patterns on your back like he couldn’t stand not touching you.

“Don’t do that again,” he whispered finally.

You didn’t pretend to not hear it. “Okay.”

“I know you’re strong. I know you can take care of yourself. But if something happens to you—I stop breathing. You get that?”

You swallowed hard. “I get it.”

“I love you so much it makes me a little insane.”

“Only a little?”

“I toned it down for your sake.”

You giggled. “You’re cute when you’re crazy.”

“Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”

You looked up, brushed the hair from his forehead, kissed him slow.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDS Men React To An Unexpected Pregnancy

AN: Pregnant reader. Not the boys. That genre is currently unexplored on this blog but not for long 🤭👺

Pairing: LaDS boys x Fem reader

Ingredients: 75% fluff, 25% angst.

My Fav: Rafayel's (new segment because I want to discuss which ones I liked best when writing)

Xavier:

You pass out during a mission. That’s how you find out. In the Hunter Association’s medical ward, you stare at the positive report in stunned silence.

The nausea hadn’t just been Xavier’s cooking.

How even…? You sit there, frozen, until he walks in, finding you pale and unmoving.

A child.

He leans against the wall, the report in his hand. God.

He had vanished the day he found out. Left you bitterly alone. But you didn’t need him, you could raise the child on your own. If Xavier was too weak to accept the truth, so be it.

But he returns. You don’t know where he went, only that when he comes back, he is broken.

"I couldn't change it." He falls to his knees. "The world remains unchanged," he repeats, voice hollow.

The destruction he had accepted, the grief he had worn like armor, now, it becomes unbearable. Because for the first time, he isn’t sure if he can ever manage to save it for his child.

Rafayel:

He dreams of it. Strange dreams.

He’s not one to obsess over omens, but even he, in his eternal wisdom, cannot decipher what a colony of seals playing with marbles is supposed to mean.

Then, one afternoon, he dreams of a baby seal. It coos at him, glumphing closer, making infant-like noises.

And in the dream, he bends down to pet it. Only for you to pick it up instead.

He jolts awake. Hands immediately over his stomach. Breath unsteady. No...not him...it was you. You picked the seal, that meant-

Then he stumbles out of bed, nearly tripping over himself in his rush to find you.

Drives like a madman. He counts the days. Two months. He counts the signs.

His heart refuses to slow down.

Barging into the Hunter’s Association, he’s chased by guards, by an exasperated receptionist, but none of it matters.

When he finds you, he grips your shoulders, searching your face. How could he have missed it?

By the tides, he was a fool.

And then—he feels it. A whisper, warm and murmuring, like the gentle pull of the waves.

A half-formed yawn, ringing softly in his mind.

The presence of his child.

Now all he has to do is tell you.

Zayne:

You watch Zayne eat dinner, half-listening as he talks about his day. He absentmindedly bites into another baby carrot.

Not just baby carrots, baby corn, baby potatoes, those tiny tomatoes.

"How’s dinner, Zayne?" you ask, feigning nonchalance.

He nods, smiling. "It’s good. Very healthy."

"Notice anything?"

He hums in thought. "You’re trying Italian cuisine these days." He places his hand over yours, gentle. "But you don’t have to cook if you’re tired after work."

He’s too kind to mention the small incident with the oven last week. To be fair, the bun in the oven analogy is a classic.

A week. A whole week of hints, and still, he hasn’t caught on.

Sighing, you give up on subtlety. "Darling, did you visit the pediatrics ward today?" you ask, pushing food around your plate.

"I didn’t have time. Had to miss the volunteering event for surgery."

You grin. Taking his hand, you guide it over your stomach. "Well, luckily for you, we’ll have one right here soon."

His mouth hangs open. Eyes darting between you and your stomach before his fingers brush over the nonexistent bump.

"Really? Are we—"

"Yes, you dummy!" You pull him into a hug. "I’ve been trying to tell you for days."

For a man obsessed with your health, he somehow had been ignorant of the biggest of surprises. Unplanned or not, you were going to give him the longest late night shift of his life.

Sylus:

The timing could have been better, he muses, wiping blood off his cheek.

But he had been too lax.

Not that it mattered. Everything was under control.

"Clean up," he orders, snapping his fingers. Shadows slither forward, dragging the remains of his enemies into the abyss.

The news of a child had changed things. He had let fate play its part for too long. Now, it was his turn.

Whatever slow-moving scheme he had let linger, ended now.

There was no way in hell he was letting you go on any mission while carrying his child.

Aether Core be damned. EVER be damned to NEVER. He would wipe them out if he had to.

For now, though, he had other priorities.

Leaving you safe at home, he finishes this last errand. Your only battle at the moment is morning sickness which, much to his surprise, isn’t just limited to mornings.

He wipes his hands clean, heading for his bike.

One last stop. You wanted pickles.

He smiles, revving the engine. Soon, only cars.

And then, he’s gone, speeding into the night, back to you. Back to his family. To cuddle the little dragon who gives you unrivaled heartburn and kicks like a menace at 18 weeks.

Caleb:

He knew.

Some would say he saw it coming, but just because he kept track of your cycle didn’t mean he could predict your ovulation exactly.

He was just…good at math.

Mental math.

And taking you to a convenience store for cough drops, right next to the pregnancy tests, had been pure coincidence.

Not that he totally snuck a glance at you eyeing them. And if he excused himself to grab a snack right then? Also not planned.

You hand him the test. "I think I’m pregnant."

He goes through all the expressions shock, surprise, joy, tears. So dramatic that it fools no one.

Seriously, he’s atrocious at being subtle about it.

Instantly proposes. Shotgun wedding because the baby will need a family.

Grins like a madman when it turns out to be twins.

Secretly, he’s very, very proud.

Heavens, he thinks smugly, I really am amazing at math.

[humanjarvis]

alternative medicine

synopsis: after a tough mission, you stop by zayne’s house for a checkup. but caleb thinks you should’ve come to him.

tags: condescending jealous dom caleb, stubborn reader but justified, friendly zayne cameo, caleb’s got a weird scent thing, bickering, massage, groping, cockwarming, riding (forced), non pip-squeak pet names (baby & princess), manhandling, biting, marking, boob slapping, hair pulling, rough…not sex?

pairing: caleb x fem reader/mc

word count: 2.2k 

a/n: yall didn’t think i could still write dom caleb did u. maybe i can’t and this sucks. anyway i have turned the wholesome caleb text above into a monstrosity. if ur partner ever gets jealous when u go to the doctor irl u should ditch them immediately 

The blare of a car horn outside your bedroom window rouses you from a deep sleep. 

Late morning sunlight greets you as you blink your eyes open, surveying the mess you’d left your room in when you’d flopped into bed last night. Clothes, gear, and bags strewn all over the floor…yesterday’s mission had really taken a lot out of you.

And when you try to sit up on the mattress, you find it took even more than you thought.

Because your body hurts. Stiffness and soreness in every muscle, to the point where every movement has your limbs screaming in pain. Even your worst period cramps couldn’t compare to the army of cells trying to tear themselves apart in your body right now.

You’d really overdone it.

Staring at the ceiling, trying not to breathe too hard in case that hurts, too, you rack your brain for options. 

Back to sleep? Back to sleep would be good. Would be great, if you didn’t have plans with Caleb tonight. And flaking out this late would only make him worry. 

Power through it? Maybe. But as you try to rise again, a sharp burn in your abdomen has you gasping and crashing back down. Maybe not.

Medicine? The sensible choice. But you’d been so busy with work lately that you hadn’t been to the pharmacy in ages, and everything you had that might have helped you was expired. 

Lucky for you, you have friends in high places.

“Ow,” you groan, wincing at the sudden pressure on your neck. “Yes, it hurts when you touch there.”

“As I warned you it might,” Zayne replies smartly. “Who was it that requested this exam, again?”

“Sorry,” you grumble, lips tugging into a deep frown. “You’re using your free time to see me, I know. I’ll be quiet.”

Your friend in a high place was off work today, you’d learned when you texted him earlier. And while you’d been more than happy to leave him in peace and let him enjoy his day, when he’d learned of your condition, he’d all but insisted you come over for treatment. 

So with gritted teeth, protesting limbs, and a quick stop to a nearby coffee shop, you’d made the short trip to his neighborhood. When you’d sucked up the pain and knocked on his door,  he’d welcomed you with open arms, especially when he saw the milk tea you’d brought as compensation. 

“You don’t work for the rest of the week, correct?” Zayne asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“Nope. We had it so rough yesterday, Jenna gave everyone a long weekend. I’m free to writhe around in agony ‘til Monday,” you answer, grimacing as he checks your forearms. 

“No need. You have a moderate case of overexertion—which might feel agonizing, but it’s nothing simple painkillers can’t fix,” he decides, stepping away to rummage through a cabinet. 

“Here, take these,” he says, holding out a familiar bottle of medicine. “One pill every six hours until the pain stops. You can keep them for future use, but let me know when you’re feeling better.” 

“Thanks, Dr. Zayne,” you sing, sliding down from his bar stool to give him a friendly hug. As his large hand pats your back, you breathe in his scent: clean and light, with a hint of jasmine. “What would I do without you?”

As you swing open your apartment door and flick on the main light, a hulking figure startles you much less than it should.

Freshly showered and in his nightclothes, Caleb is already inside, flipping through a book as he lounges on your armchair. An hour early, but what did you expect, coming from him?

“Hello to you, too,” you greet him wryly. “Of course you can come in. Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

“Well, this is my second home. Would be my first, if you’d let me sleep on the couch,” he quips, a boyish grin lighting up his face as he reaches you in four long strides. “Sorry for bein’ so early, pip-squeak. I just couldn’t wait to see you.” 

“Mm, I missed you too,” you admit, standing on your tiptoes to give him a chaste peck. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day—I’m just so tired,” you whine, falling into him dramatically.

A half-second after he catches you, Caleb falters. “Did you go to a cafe today?” he asks hesitantly. “You smell different.”

“…No?” you blink slowly, staring up at him in confusion. “I got some milk tea earlier, but I only went through the drive-thru. What do I smell like?”

“Like jasmine,” he frowns, scanning you with slightly narrowed eyes. 

“Oh, that. I said I was tired, right? It’s because of my mission yesterday. I could barely move when I woke up, so I went to see Zayne earlier. You know he loves jasmine stuff—his house smells like it a little, too. Anyway, he gave me some medicine for the soreness. I’ll probably take some before we go to bed,” you explain, fishing the pill bottle out of your purse and rattling it in the air. 

“His house?” Caleb asks, voice strained with alarm.

“What?”

“You saw Zayne, but not at his office. You went to his house for medicine?”

“Uh, yeah,” you shrug simply, leaving his embrace to stand up straight. “He was off today.”

On Caleb’s face is a mix of disbelief, betrayal, and envy. But you, too busy fiddling with the pill bottle, are too distracted to notice. 

When you look up again, his only emotion is cool, confident resolve.

“Alright then, pip-squeak,” he cheers with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “We gonna watch the movie, or would you rather mess with that bottle all night?”

Your movie night starts off slow, normal, with all the whispered jokes and casual touches of the ones before. 

So when Caleb puts more pressure where his hand rests on your shoulder, you think nothing of it, at first.

But when that hand starts groping and squeezing, fondling your soft flesh under the thin fabric of your shirt, you swivel your head and eye him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Just givin’ you a massage, pip-squeak,” he grins, his murmur barely audible over the gunfire on screen. “You’re still sore, right? Let me help you out.”

Unconvinced, you scrutinize him until his innocent smile dissolves your willpower. “Okay,” you say warily, turning back to face the screen as large hands caress your body. “Thank you. But don’t distract me—this is the good part.”

***

The whole third act of the movie passes, but Caleb never stops. Your shoulders, arms, stomach, hips—every part of you he can reach, pliant under his eager touch. 

And you can’t focus. 

It’s when his wandering hands greedily squeeze the fat of your breasts that you pause the movie with a choked gasp.

“You don’t have to…I’m not sore there,” you chide, cheeks flaming from embarrassment and something more.

“Hm? Is it not helping? With the way you gasped just now, I’d think it felt really good,” he mocks, leaning in to tease you up close.

“It’s not bad. You’re just…being thorough,” you grumble, retreating from his advance.

“More thorough than Zayne was earlier, I hope,” he shoots back bitterly, and it all clicks into place.

Scoffing, you turn to face him fully, making his hands fall to your sides. “You can’t be serious. Of all the things to be jealous of—”

“I’m jealous that my girlfriend would go to another guy’s house for help when she has me on speed dial.” 

“Oh my god, Caleb, you’re not a doctor! I would’ve called you if I needed a ride home or something, not if I needed medical help.” 

“When was the last time you saw a doctor just because you were sore?” he lifts a brow, slowing his movements on your body. “I can help you just like this. You’re feelin’ better since I started, right? I can tell you are. You’re less tense, and you don’t wince when you move anymore. That’s me. Not him.”

He’s not wrong. Since he started his massage, your muscles had relaxed almost miraculously, as if his hands were the antidote to your pain. 

You won’t tell him that, of course. Pride and all.

“I’d be perfectly fine with Zayne’s painkillers,” you snap haughtily. “I don’t need you for everything, you know.”

At that, Caleb freezes entirely. 

But only for a moment.

“Is that so?” he asks lowly, breath fanning the shell of your ear. There’s a threat in his voice. A promise. Things never ended well when he took that tone with you. 

“Wait,” you try to backtrack, nervously bracing your hands against his chest. “I didn’t mean it like that, I-I just—”

Before you can plead your case, Caleb hauls you up and into his lap, molding your back to his front with an iron grip.

“I know exactly what you meant, pip-squeak,” he whispers in your ear. “But I thought you’d be tired of me provin’ you wrong by now.”

As you squirm helplessly in his hold, his hands return to your chest, pulling your shirt up to pluck and grope your tender skin. It’s hardly a massage anymore, with how rough he’s being—rolling your nipples under skilled fingers, tugging them until they ache with pleasure. When he cups one breast with merciless ownership, making your flesh spill out between his fingers, you moan and wriggle in his lap, reigniting the burn in your thighs. 

“Still hurts?” Caleb asks, laying his head on your shoulder tauntingly. 

“N-no, it feels g—”

He cuts you off. “It does, huh?” he pouts with feigned pity. “Poor baby, still so tight…don’t worry, I’ll loosen you up.”

Before you can react, he lifts you slightly to free his hard length from his sweats. Under your skirt, his hand pinches the fat of your ass hard before he slides your soaked panties to the side. 

And then slowly, steadily, Caleb lowers you down on his waiting cock, inch by devastating inch. 

Your mixed gasps fill the room as you adjust to the feel of each other—you suction his length, he savors your warmth.

“This better, princess?” he grits out, one hand still fondling your breast while the other grips your hip.

“Caleb,” you groan, annoyance and arousal blending together. 

He coos in response, pressing a gloating kiss to your hair. “Aw, it is? I know it is.” 

Chuckling breathily behind you, he slaps the flesh of your breast with a reverberating smack, and you squeal as your skin ripples. “He didn’t help you like this, right? I hope he didn’t,” he jeers. “Otherwise, I’ll have to pay him a visit.” 

Hissing at the lingering sting on your chest, you stomp his foot with your smaller one. “You are so childish! It wasn’t like that.” 

“You’re melting around me, baby,” he ignores you, shifting his hips to press deeper into you. “You don’t need those pills, you don’t need him—not while I’m here. I’m the first one you tell. First one you cry to. No one else. Isn’t that right?”

Mewling at the new angle, you shake your head wildly, bringing an arm up to tug at his hair. 

Huffing out a laugh, Caleb sinks his teeth into your neck in warning, sucking harshly before lapping at the mark. “No?” he asks, grinding your hips into his so roughly that stars cloud your vision. 

“When you're hungry, you call Caleb. When you're thirsty, you call Caleb. When you're happy you call Caleb, when you're sad you call Caleb. And when you’re sick, you still. Call. Caleb,” he finishes, punctuating his last command with three punishing thrusts into you. “Say yes.”

Stubborn as ever, you deny him, still squirming in his grasp. But when he bounces you on top of him, forcing your aching thighs and ass against his swollen base in slick, lewd slaps, you lose the dignity you had left. “Yes!” you squeal in submission, digging your nails into his thighs to ground yourself. “Y-yes, I’ll come to you when I need something. Always. I should’ve this time, I’m sorry.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, it’s like the tension in the room evaporates. 

Sighing contentedly, Caleb wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you flush against his chest to lay a kiss on your temple. “I know you are. But it’s okay now, right? Lesson learned for next time.”

“Next time,” you agree dazedly, eyelids drooping as his length still pulses inside you.

“Now, why don’t you pass me the remote? We have a movie to finish.”

The movie ended an hour ago.

But Caleb was far too satisfied watching you doze off on his cock to ruin the moment. 

Now, slipping out of your heat with gentle precision, he gathers your sleeping form in his arms, cradling your head to his chest.

You smell like him now. Good.

Carrying you to your bedroom, he lays you down and slips a loose t-shirt over your head before pulling the covers to your chin.

For a moment, he watches you, a serene smile gracing his lips in the moonlight. 

And then, he dips a hand into his pocket, fishing out the stolen pill bottle and dropping it in the trash.

[catmask]

meowdy! looks like our move to a new apartment is not going to be so peaceful after all - our old apartment is currently leaking sewage water and we have to evacuate four people and two cats! donations are appreciated, but im opening an emergency sale + commissions too! (more under the cut)

KO-FI SHOP SALE + EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

DISCOUNT CODE IS 'LEAK' IN ALL CAPS

so for this section, i'm going to break down everything thats happening + when things will come off hiatus! i'm hoping that everything will be set up in the new place by JUNE 1st, so that is the hard deadline i'm setting to start all functions up again as usual.

WHAT'S HAPPENING?

two years ago, my fiance and i were offered emergency housing when we (very suddenly and tragically) became the parents to his orphaned little sister. both of us are only 26 and had to move 8 hours from where we had been living at the time, so the housing we had was the best 2 people with few connections and no established jobs could find within a single weeks notice.

since then, we have been saving up and working to finally have a proper place to live. and we did so! at the beginning of this month we found an apartment where all of us can move to. we have a friend staying with us who is helping with the move as well.

i really wanted this move to be seamless - basically, you wouldn't have had to know it was happening. we were going to pay double rent for two months while i would stream and work from the old place, and begin sleeping at the new one. its expensive, but i didn't want my real life to trouble anyone here.

unfortunately this is no longer possible. the old building we were staying at had a pipe begin to leak, then eventually flood our entire apartment. this has been a reoccurring problem the landlord hasn't seemed to find a solution for, and it's led to a biohazard where we were planning on slowly moving from - leading to an immediate and emergency evacuation for the safety of everyone in our family.

SO... STREAMING?

will be back online as soon as possible! we moved out our tech as soon as we could due to fear of water damage, and it seems like everything is A-OK. we just need to rebuild my desk and sound proof the new room, so this will probaaabbly be back online within a week? im just going to take the week off to make sure everything is set up and there are no bugs. (digital. digital bugs.)

LAIKA'S COMET?

for the sake of not losing my buffer crazystyle, i'm pausing laika's until JUNE 1st. but i'm going to post one more page right now to leave you guys on a cliffhanger because i think it's funny. (the ko-fi will still update as regular as i finish pages! tbh, in between moving i am going to be drawing.... a LOT... it's like my only self soothing activity i have access to right now </3)

SHOP STUFF?

you basically won't notice a difference. orders go out every 2 weeks anyway, and literally the day before this happened we completely caught up to date. that + all of the goods we had were already moved over because (similar to the tech) we were worried about water damage, so nothing will be yucky... (i dont know if i can say the same about our furniture or clothes ; _ ; )

FINAL NOTES

while we did manage to get out with emergency bags and a weeks worth of outfits + things to sleep on + cook with, we have no real means of knowing the extent of damage until we bring things out of the apartment and clean them here. thankfully *most* things appear undamaged, its largely the flooring and the smell that are unliveable... walking through puddles of sewage water and having to wear a mask to breathe is not really liveable conditions.

however, considering this move is sped up way faster than planned, and i wont be able to work during it - any sales or donations are hugely appreciated. ; w ;

i'm sorry to ask for help like this, and its only if you are comfortable to do so!!! i can work hard, so i don't mind doing a little extra art to make money, this is just if you feel okay to help out and would like to.

if you read this far, thank you so much - hopefully next time i will return with good news - and maybe a new apartment tour...?

[palestinianmina]

🚨🚨🚨 You can save a life! Act now‼️‼️🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉

My name is Mina, I'm 19 years old from Gaza. On October 7th, we woke up to the sounds of rockets, bombing, and destruction. By October 10th, we were forced to leave our home with nothing—(no clothes, no belongings, nothing)—because our area became a dangerous war zone. A week later, we received the devastating news that our home had been completely destroyed😔😔💔💔💔.We are now displaced, with no place to call home. We have been forced to move 10 times over the past eleven months of this genocidal war. We currently live in a place barely suitable for three people, while our family of eight struggles to fit. My aunt and her one-year-old daughter were killed by the occupation. My grandfather died due to the lack of medication and the closure of hospitals because of insufficient resources. He was a heart patient who needed regular treatment, but it was cut off due to the blockade and lack of medical supplies.I was in my first week of university, finally enrolling in my dream college (medical school) after achieving one of the highest grades in my city (98.6% in the scientific branch). Now, I lost this academic year, and it seems the second year will be lost as well, with no way to change this dire situation. My elder sister, (Salwa), was supposed to be in her third year of university. She was the top of her class and aspired to participate in student exchange programs and pursue a master's degree. Now, her university is destroyed, and she is unable to do anything. My younger sister, (Abeer), was supposed to be in her final year of school, excelling academically and aiming for a high grade. Unfortunately, her school was destroyed, and she cannot continue her education. My younger siblings, Adel (13), Jana (12), and Ammar (8), also cannot continue their education. They are in crucial stages for their development and future, but everything has been shattered.Basic necessities are almost nonexistent in Gaza: cleaning supplies are scarce, feminine hygiene products are nearly impossible to find and extremely expensive, and essentials like (shampoo, soap, and laundry detergent) are either unavailable or exorbitantly priced. Diseases are spreading alarmingly, particularly skin diseases and, more recently, polio. We are terrified of infection as the health situation deteriorates severely💔💔.We urgently need a safe, healthy, and fear-free life for me, my siblings, and my family. Please help us by donating through the link and sharing our campaign 🙏🏻🙏🏻❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹