#Hair Skin Nails Tablets

[neuherbsblog]

The Best Vitamins for Skin and Hair.

Hair, skin and nail vitamins have become a popular way to boost the look of your beauty routine. But not all supplements are created equal.

Vitamins A, C, E and Biotin help your skin and hair stay healthy and beautiful. But how can you get these nutrients in your diet?

Vitamin C.

Vitamin C is a water-soluble vitamin that is essential for a number of different bodily functions, including wound healing and iron absorption. This vitamin is also an antioxidant, which helps protect your cells from damage caused by free radicals. It is best known for its immune-boosting properties, but it can also help with the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles and improve the health of your skin.

The good news is that it’s a common ingredient in many skincare products, and topical application of vitamin C is one of the most effective ways to boost its benefits. It works to reduce the appearance of dark spots and age spots, and it can even prevent UV rays from damaging your skin.

Its ability to fight harmful free radicals is another reason why it’s a great choice for your skin. These molecules are made in the body when your diet or environment is contaminated with toxins and pollutants, and they can cause inflammation and damage to your cells.

For these reasons, it’s important to take vitamin C supplements and consume plenty of fruits and vegetables that contain this antioxidant nutrient. You should also look for skin care products with vitamin C as an ingredient to help your skin recover and maintain its health and radiance.

Because of the small molecular weight of vitamin C, it’s a natural hydration booster that leaves your skin feeling hydrated. It can also improve the texture of your skin and keep it firm, which helps reduce the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles.

You can also use a topical vitamin C serum before applying your favorite sunscreen to add extra protection against sun damage. This can be particularly beneficial for those with darker skin tones, as the antioxidant can make it more difficult for UV rays to penetrate deeply into your complexion.

Finally, vitamin C can help stimulate collagen production to increase the appearance of firmness and elasticity in your skin, according to Shahnaz Hussain, a beauty expert. She adds that it can even improve the appearance of dull, aging skin by reducing the production of free radicals and boosting antioxidant levels in your body.

Vitamin E.

Vitamin E is a powerful antioxidant that helps fight free radicals in the body. It also helps boost the immune system and promotes cell regeneration. It is particularly useful in reducing UV ray damage to the skin and easing symptoms of atopic dermatitis. It is also effective in widening blood vessels, lowering the risk of blood clots and slowing down the progression of Alzheimer’s disease.

A vitamin E based diet is essential for healthy skin and hair. This nutrient is found naturally in foods like vegetable oils, nuts and seeds. It is also available as a dietary supplement and can be used in beauty products to help moisturize the skin and reduce age spots.

This nutrient can also help prevent heart disease and cancer. It has been shown to inhibit the oxidation of low-density lipoprotein cholesterol (LDL-C) and has been linked to reduced risk of heart attacks, strokes and cardiovascular deaths. It is also thought to help protect the arteries and reduce the risk of blood clots that may lead to a heart attack or venous thromboembolism.

It can be found in a wide range of foods and is a good source of antioxidants that promote heart health. A diet high in foods that are rich in vitamin E is believed to lower cholesterol levels and prevent atherosclerosis.

The dietary recommendation for vitamin E is a daily intake of 15 milligrams. Women of childbearing age should increase their intake to 19 milligrams daily. If you are pregnant or breastfeeding, talk to your healthcare provider before taking a supplement.

In addition to its antioxidant properties, vitamin E is also known for its anti-inflammatory benefits. It has been shown to improve the appearance of acne scars and can also be a helpful treatment for inflammatory rashes and other skin conditions. It has been shown to enhance keratinization of the follicles and sebaceous glands, which can lead to a reduction in redness and swelling.

The simplest way to get vitamin E is by eating a well balanced diet that includes oily fish, poultry and eggs. You can also get vitamin E from vegetables, whole grains, and nuts and seeds. It can also be obtained as a dietary supplement or in topical creams, lotions and facial oils.

Vitamin A

Vitamin A is a key component of skin cells and is also a vital part of your immune system. It has a wide range of benefits for your body, including improving night vision, fighting cancer and helping you grow healthy hair, eyes and bones.

In the skin, it helps to produce collagen and elastin, which keep your complexion firm and wrinkle-free. It also protects your skin from oxidative stress, which is the damage that occurs when your body can't fully regulate free radicals that cause cell-damaging reactions in the tissues.

If you’re not getting enough vitamin A from your diet, it can lead to a deficiency that may result in poor vision (xerophthalmia). This condition makes it hard for your eyes to adjust to low light conditions and is dangerous if not treated.

It can also cause brittle nails, hair loss and even osteoporosis or hip fractures in older adults. In fact, it has been linked to congenital birth defects in developing fetuses.

You can get a good amount of vitamin A by eating foods rich in carotenoids such as carrots, spinach, apricots, sweet potatoes and mangoes. These contain pro vitamin A, which is converted into the active forms retinol and retinoic acid in your body.

Another way to boost your intake of vitamin A is by applying it topically, either through a topical cream or serum. The retinoids in topical vitamin A help stimulate the cells that are responsible for creating new skin cells. They can also minimize fine lines and wrinkles, reduce hyperpigmentation and even out skin tone.

Vitamin A also binds with the receptor sites on your skin cells, telling them to turn off the genes that control sebaceous glands, which can make it easier to clear up mild acne and reduce inflammation. It can also be helpful for treating rosacea, dry and irritated skin, keratosis pilaris, and other common skin issues.

If you’re looking for a safe and effective way to get your recommended daily allowance of vitamin A, it’s best to talk to your doctor about a dietary supplement that contains a combination of the active forms of this important nutrient. However, it’s not always the most convenient way to get vitamin A, as many supplements can be harsh on your stomach and liver.

Biotin.

Biotin (also known as vitamin B7) is one of the most important vitamins for skin and hair. It helps to fight off sun damage and keep your skin looking youthful, healthy and smooth. It also promotes skin elasticity and lightens your skin tone, which makes it perfect for a radiant complexion.

It's also essential for a healthy immune system and the regulation of blood sugar. The water-soluble vitamin is found in meat, fish, eggs, cheese, nuts, legumes and vegetables. It is also available in a variety of supplements, which can be very effective for ensuring you get enough of this key nutrient.

According to the Institute of Medicine, a daily intake of 30 mcg of biotin is sufficient for most people. Deficiencies in this vitamin are very rare, though they can cause a number of health problems, including hair loss or thinning and scaly red rashes on the skin.

In addition to its benefits for your hair and skin, biotin can also help prevent photo allergy, a condition that occurs when the body's immune system reacts to exposure to sunlight by producing chemicals. This reaction can lead to a rash, which spreads to other parts of the body and may be accompanied by dryness, itching, redness or irritation.

Another benefit of biotin is that it can improve the texture of your hair, making it thicker and shinier. It can also stimulate the growth of new hair follicles and increase overall scalp volume, which makes your hair look healthier.

Biotin is also essential for pregnancy, as it may reduce the risk of birth defects and keep your baby healthy. It also can help to maintain the blood sugar levels of people with diabetes.

The best way to get the most of this nutrient is through your diet. You can find it in foods such as organ meats, dairy products, avocadoes, berries, fish, lentils and mushrooms.

However, if you aren't getting enough of this vitamin from your diet, taking a supplement is the best way to ensure you get a healthy dose. Dosage recommendations range from about 1 mg to 3 mg per day.

Where to buy best Vitamin for Hair and Skin?

There are plenty of options where you can buy best Vitamin for Hair and Skin tablets. You can buy them from a lot of online shops but not all of them are reliable. It's better to buy them from a company that will provide you a wide variety of options of hair skin vitamin tablets. You can also use the Internet to find stores that sell chia seed. There is impressive brand like Neuherbs which can be good option for such stuff. For example, you can search Hair Skin Vitamin in Amazon, and you will find a lot of stores that sell them online.

[healthyheynutrition]

Selecting Your Food Supplements – Quality Matters

Are you tired of scouring the web, looking for the best food supplements or nutritional supplements? The internet is flooded with countless flooded with numerous dietary supplement options. If you are looking for the food supplements for the first time and you are new to this then you are likely to be confused with the options available. Most of us do not know how to select our food supplements and as a result, we make mistakes.

One of the most common approaches when screening hair skin and nails vitamins is to limit oneself to the cost factor. People tend to settle for the lowest priced supplements available online without paying attention to the other crucial aspects. Health supplements promise a wide range of benefits but all the benefits promised could be enjoyed only when the supplements you choose work exactly the way they promise to work. In reality, that is never the case. Not all brands are made equal. So, if you are going to look for the lowest priced supplements then it may not be the best way to select your food supplements.

You should instead make quality your priority when ordering your omega 3 fish oil capsules. Only by sourcing the finest quality food supplements you can be sure of getting the promised results or else you would be wasting whatever money you spend on them. When we take a quality-based approach it is important to find out whether the food supplements you are selecting are made of natural ingredients. Supplements made of non-GMO ingredients and natural ingredients are considered safer as opposed to chemical-based supplements. The nutritional supplements you take must fill the gap in your diet and help your overall health. It must not undermine your health.

Food supplements can be ordered online conveniently. However, you need to first screen your online suppliers. The quality of the supplements you order will depend on the suppliers you choose. Before placing the order, you must check the reputation of the supplier. You must also ensure that the supplements you order are delivered on time. When you pick reputed suppliers, you do not have to worry about such issues. You will get excellent quality supplements delivered on time.

You do not have to be paranoid, there are many reliable suppliers of dietary supplements. It is just a matter of time that you spot them. If you are going to rush through your orders without adequate screening of the suppliers and without checking the customer feedback then it would be your fault. All the information you need are just a few searches away.

Once you establish the credibility of a supplier, you will be able to go back to that supplier for all your subsequent requirements. Therefore, it is worth investing time in the screening process. Screen multiple suppliers before you narrow down on your choices. This will simplify your food supplements sourcing process down the line as you will not be required to screen your supplier for every order.

[welldrawnfish]

Do you know what its like to be trans?

[Comic description: A comic about being trans. Long descriptions follow.

1. A light-skinned trans woman with shoulder-length brown hair stands at her bathroom sink wearing a T-shirt with a fish on it, draped so that her left shoulder hangs out. The text reads, ‘Let me teach you, what its like to be trans.’ 2. A blister pack of unlabelled pills sits next to this are two prescription bottles, one of Estrodial and one of Spironolactone, the latter of which is on its side with pills spilling out. The text reads, ‘What it’s like to spend years of waiting / For the right people to tick the box to tick the box to say your sick enough to get treatment. / Treatment to be you.’ 3. The woman brushes her teeth while looking at a tablet propped up by the sink. The text reads, ‘Do you know what its like to be a prop for political power? / To know they Dont actually care?’ The word ‘actually’ is underlined. 4. The woman sticks her tongue out in concentration as she works on the clasps of a bra behind her back. The text reads, ‘Do you know what it’s like? Do wait years for your body to change?’ 5. The woman starts shaving her cheeks and chin, which are covered in cream. The text reads, ‘What its like to work (emphasis) so (end emphasis) hard to overcome every toxic gender norm?’ 6. The woman touches her own shoulders with an unhappy expression. The text reads, ‘To take stock at the damage puberty has done?’ 7. A bottle of nail polish lies on its side dripping onto the counter. Polish has been splashed against the wall. The woman’s hands are visible in the sink, with just her right thumbnail painted. The text reads, ‘Do you know what its like? / To paint your nails only to see how disgusting your hands make you feel?’ 8. The woman bends over the sink, with her eyes shut and tears streaming down her face. The text says, ‘What its like, To do your makeup wrong / and see every feature you hate (emphasis) highlighted (end emphasis)?’

9. Fully dressed with a bag on her shoulder, the woman stands in her doorway with the door open and light streaming in. The text reads, ‘Do you Know what Its like to go outside? / When all it takes is one person to think that you are large enough danger to childrens lives to end yours.’ 10. The door is closed. A single point of light streams in from the peep hole and hits the woman’s head. She has one hand on the door and is looking down at the doorknob with a sad expression. Her bag lies on the ground beside her. The text says, ‘It paralyzes you.’

11. Back to the scene in the bathroom, similar to the first panel but mirrored and with a large black X scratched over the woman’s face. The text reads, ‘Do you Know what its like? / To not be seen as a person? / Because that’s what you taught me.’ \End descriptions]

[alisaf21]

Vitabase Vitamin e tablets for Skin, Hair, & Nails. Provides complete multivitamin and mineral — no need to take multiple products!

[pro-crastinate17]

hello!! so im going to try to make a disability inclusive picrew and id like some help making sure i include as much as i can!

the person would be seated and pretty much all of the body would be visible. ill post it when im done!

its mostly focused on phys disabilities, bc i so rarely can find picrews w good diverse mobility aid options, but ofc im including non phys disabilities as well! (sorry for clunky phrasing, im unclear on the preferred term for non phys disabilities so thats the term ive been using)

what i have so far is below the read more. be warned it is a very long list! (every option/category of option i could think of)

if you think i missed something, please recommend it!!! (related note: id much rather get recommended something that is already on the list than miss something!)

category: head

various jaw shapes 

missing jaw 

crooked/misaligned jaw

category: skin

wide range of skin tones, including white/extremely pale (albino) 

freckles, lots of scar variation (including burns), vitiligo, acne, facial hair, eye bags, other skin conditions (trying to make a list)

breathing tubes, masks, bandages 

bindis 

category: eyes 

blue, grey, green, hazel, medium brown, dark brown, black, red 

heterochromia options 

lazy eye options 

clouded eye options 

closed eyes that look like winking and closed eyes that don't 

missing eyes

category: mouth 

general expressions 

variations for color 

variations for cleft lip, scars, facial paralysis 

category: ears 

ear size, shape, missing ears, deformed ears

category: eye/ear accessories 

earrings, earplugs, hearing aids, bone anchored hearing aids, headphones, earmuffs (modifications for missing/deformed ears), cochlear implant

glasses, sunglasses, blue light glasses, eye patches, eye masks/bandages 

category: nose 

various shapes & sizes, bumpy noses, deformed noses  

category: eyebrows 

lots of expression options, thickness options, color options (including white) 

one missing, scarring, eyebrow slits 

category: body 

body types: very skinny, skinny, fat, very fat (options for muscularity too if i can figure out how)

body hair, scarring, freckles, tattoos   

range of missing limbs, deformed limbs, prosthetics   

diabetes patch 

category: hair 

wide range of hairstyles, bangs, and colors 

patchy hair, scalp scarring, receding hairline 

category: head coverings

range of hats, hair accessories, headbands, bandanas    

range of hijabs, turbans, kippot (+ more variation in cultural headwear if theres space)

head bandages 

category: clothes

range of styles and colors 

adaptable to body types (+ breasts), missing/deformed limbs 

category: shoes 

range of styles 

adaptable to body types, missing foot/feet 

category: hand accessories  

gloves, bracelets, rings, nails, wrist braces, splint rings

range of types, adaptable to missing/deformed hands 

category: pins 

range of queer pride flags 

pronoun pins 

animals, fandoms/characters (def muppets, feel free to recommend characters and i'll try to include some of the most popular ones) 

general disability pride, cripplepunk, madpunk, sign union flag, & pin (for systems), specific disabilities (need some help with these, send me specific flags and i’ll include them!) 

category: seat 

chair, manual wheelchair, power chair, spinny chair, throne, rollator, electric scooter 

category: mobility aids 

cane, white cane, crutches (underarm/axillary and forearm), rollator, walker (with and without wheels), electric scooter  

joint braces (shoulder, elbow, knee, ankle, back, others?), joint tape, compression garments 

category: other disability aids

AAC tablets, word cards, glucose monitor, sunflower lanyard, inhaler, medical id bracelet

stoma bag, central line catheter, picc line catheter, heart monitor, breathing tube, feeding tube (nasal and abdominal), tracheostomy 

stim toys/chewelry, stuffed animals, phone 

service animals

[houseofhyde]

“aemond, i’m out shopping…”

pairing. modern!aegon targaryen x fem!reader synopsis. ...but you’re under aegon and he’s not stopping. ( read part one here ) warnings. modern au, best friend's brother!aegon, drummer!aegon, fuckbuddy!aegon, references to alcohol & drug usage, smut ( aegon is giving switch vibes ngl, f oral, fingering, m masturbation, pussy pronouns bc aegon straight up talks to it like it's a sentient being independent of the reader, exhibitionism, hair pulling, sweat kink?, spit as lubrication, cum tasting, one single slap, mentions of sex toys & tribute pictures, dubcon but only bc the reader protests even though she doesn't mean it ) word count. 5.2k hyde’s input. my modus operandi is making a silly smut fic ( that involves aegon or aemond fucking around with their brother's love interest ) and then ( quite some time later ) writing a part 2 that accidentally trips and falls into a whole load of plot that simply must be further explored, and then oh no! a series is born! the horrors! read on ao3.

Aegon Targaryen is no stranger to waking up naked in a stranger’s bed.

It’s an occurrence that’s marked his formative years, truly. Drinking hard, partying late. Crashing harder, waking later. Last night's clothes strewn across the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen floors, an arm gone numb with the weight of the head that rests upon it. Hair of black, blonde, brown, red, blue tangled on the pillow next to his own. He’s never been picky with who he takes to bed. A warm body is a warm body, and Aegon Targaryen is but a creature of cold blood searching for some reprieve.

This, however, is new to him.

Awakening to unfamiliar walls still dressed in last night’s clothes and laying completely alone. There’s a pounding in his head that beats at his skull, harder than his foot kicks a bass drum. The smell of cheap liquor sticks to his skin — vodka, or tequila, or rum; he can’t pinpoint which he drank more of. The spot next to him is empty, cold to the touch as a hand stretches across the mattress, searching for some sign of life.

Last night is a blur of nicotine in his lungs, glitter in his hair, and far too many broken drum sticks. He needs to stop snapping them over his knee at the end of every solo. The band had been playing at some new bar, that much he does remember. Then, their set finished, and the drinks began to flow, and more than once he was called into the bathroom for a sniff of snow.

When things can’t get worse, they often do.The scream of an alarm clock, somewhere to the left of him and completely out of arm’s reach. With a groan and a grimace, Aegon’s rolling over, tangling himself in floral sheets and, there he finds the damn noise-maker, sitting pretty on a nightstand, living in the space between a pile of well-read books and a scented candle burnt down three quarters of the jar it lives in. An ashtray filled with trinkets, and earrings, and necklaces, and a single cigarette butt, sits right next to a phone, a glass of water, and two unlabelled white pills, one simple note attached. 

Went 4 run. Don’t burn down apartment.

Aegon can’t even get offended by the comment. He once set Helaena’s carpet on fire, with nothing but a bottle of nail polish remover, a box of matches, and a whole lot of morbid curiosity. More than once, he’s left a pot on the stove and come back to find flames engulfing it. In a world of pyromaniacs, Aegon is a pyro-misfortunate, too typically present when things go up in flames — literally or figuratively.

Right now, the only fire is in his head, and the safety of water lies within a glass. His fingers scramble along the bedside table, grasping at straws to pick up the two pills. As one presses into the palm of his hand, the other slips off the edge. He tries to catch it as it falls. It has the opposite effect, the pill he’s captured slipping through the crack between his fingers and crashing against the floor, exploding in a powder of white. The other tablet is in no better state.

He could cry. He almost does, as he throws the upper half of his body off the bed, dangling down to scrape up the salvageable remnants of his pain relief.

“Every time I think you can’t get more pathetic, you prove me wrong.”

The voice of Aegon’s salvation.

You appear to him, an angel in the doorway. Upside down, clad in a sports bra, running shorts, and mismatching socks, your skin glistening with its own sweat, backlit by the unforgiving shine of an afternoon sun. And it’s all a hallucination, no doubt, because Aegon has not so much as heard from — never mind seen — you.

Not since that last Sunday you’d spent kneeling on his van floor.

He thought your words were nothing but a bluff. This can’t happen again. It was a bluff every other time, a silly thing to comfort the part of your conscience that feels it owes Aemond some kind of unwarranted loyalty, only to then forget about it the next time his text buzzes in, a misspelt nmeed you, or lemmesee you 2moro, or ur pxssy my mouth pls? lighting up the screen. Nearly a month since he watched you slip out his van door, it seems the only way to see you is in a come-down, hungover state of delirium.

But you’re moving towards him, and crouching down to grasp the tablets he’s left to perish, and sitting him up right, leaving his limp body to collapse back against the bed — your bed? A hand racks itself through his disjointed hair, a momentarily soothing touch, until it tightens into a fist and tugs at his roots, angling his head till his blues meet your eyes. A moan slips its way past Aegon’s lips, the delicious burn at his scalp waking his easily aroused mind.

“Look at you,” you practically spit your disgust at him, but the pity in your stare lessens the blows of your anger-laced voice. Your voice, oh how he’s missed it. “There’s a little more life in those eyes than last night, but, god, you look like shit.”

“Hmm, love it when you degrade me, baby,” he says, a shit-eating grin stretching his lips. “Gets me so hard.”

You recoil within an instant, hands off him like he’s a flaming ball of fire and you’re a barrel of oil, impending doom awaiting when both casualties collide. Aegon chases after you, however, and so you don’t make it far, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you down into the sheets with him.

Twisted limbs, wrinkled sheets. You weakly thrash against his hold, his arms tighten around you. Burrowing itself in the crevice where neck kisses shoulder, Aegon’s face seeks the refuge of darkness and burrows itself in the smell of skin, your skin.

“Ew, Aegon!” A cry from above, his warm tongue slivering out the cavern of his mouth and dragging itself along a patch of sweat stained skin. Salty, sweet, musky. Everything he likes, everything you. “Let me go, I’m all- You’re making me sweat all over my sheets!”

“Well, that’s no fun,” the pout practically drips off his voice, giving away his expression as if you can’t already feel it pressed right up against your neck. Mind of their own, his hips grind against the leg trapped between his, the swell of his waking cock slowly making itself known. “I’d rather make you sweat, without the s.”

“Weat,” the cooling damp of your skin soothes his burning headache, the perfect remedy to last night’s cocktail of bad choices. Undulating hips, setting an unsteady rhythm that nurtures the hardness between his thighs, feeds its growing hunger slowly. Too slowly. Too long since Aegon last felt you, since Aegon last felt anything. “You’re saying you want to make me weat.”

“Wet. Sweat without the s,” seizing the opportunity, he takes it upon himself to grab a hold of control, flipping you onto your back with a lack of elegance that can only be justified by his hungover state. With your earlier protests still echoing in his mind, you seem to have no issue spreading your legs and making a space for him between them, inviting the Targaryen boy to drape himself over you, face in neck, crotch against crotch, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. “Phonetically.”

“Wow, that’s a big word for you, Aegon!” Despite your grinning mouth and facetious words, deft fingers slip into the crack between your bodies and work at the buckle of his belt, worn leather leaving speckles of itself on your fingertips. “Did Aemond teach you it?”

“Ha, ha.” His hands pinch at your side, an unseen eye-roll at the mention of his younger brother. Perfect Aemond, always finding a way to make things about himself, even when he’s not in the room. The cut feels a little deeper when you’re involved, the only thing of Aemond’s that Aegon has ever dared try take for himself, a sick prize in the depths of his perverted mind. “Who needs big words when you have a big coc-”

The doorbell rings and interrupts him.

Both of you freeze, hands burrowed in hair and fingers tracing over flesh. Aegon’s quick to recover, dragging his attention back to the shape you make up beneath him, a sight that brings him physical ache. He lets his gaze wander over the length of your torso, over the slopes and curves and dips of your body, and hooks his thumbs under either side of your nylon shorts. 

“Ignore it,” he says, relishing in how easily the tenseness in you melts away as your eyes find his again, stiff muscles melting as easily as candle wax.

Layers of clothing shed away, his liquor-stained shirt now a pile of cotton by the door, your shorts tossed blindly over his shoulder. He sinks back down, your own limbs following suit, folding beneath his on-coming body. Mouths find one another, like a moth finds a flame, and refuse to part.

Aegon’s missed you. He won’t say it, but he feels it. In every brush of his tongue against your own, and every spine-tingling touch your hands drag over his naked back, and every breath he pulls in stained with the smell of your shampoo. It’s too overwhelming to think of, and so he forces himself to focus on a far more pressing matter: his fingers dipping beneath the waistline of your panties.

As thumb meets navel, a phone screen lights up on the bedside table.

He tries, so desperately, to chase your mouth as your head flees, and one less hand, five less fingers touch his skin, reaching out to grasp your buzzing phone, the name on the screen rousing contempt within him.

“Don’t answer,” he’s pleading, even as he watches your thumb swipe up on the green. “Please, don’t.”

Your eyes refuse to meet his own, you put the phone to your ear.

“Aemond,” a sucker punch to the gut, a name that reminds him of the pounding in his head. Aegon recoils from you, resting back on his haunches, the pathway to your thighs a trail laid out before him. “Hi, sorry.”

He wants to admit defeat. Crawl off your bed, scoop up his shirt, lace up his boots — wherever they are. Spare not even a fleeting glance as he takes his leave, let you stay focused on the brother that clearly owns more of your attention than him. And the worst thing is, Aegon cannot pretend this feeling is rational.

Aemond is your friend, your best friend. The one you call when you need saving, the one who pulls the weight of your textbooks out of your arms and into his own, the one who wins a smile out of you like it’s as easy as breathing air. Whereas Aegon can’t even claim he’s losing the race to his little brother, because he’s not even on the same track. 

Unfortunately, defeat just isn’t in his nature.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m,” his hand on your knee, you don’t even flinch. Still won’t even look at him. The hand smooths up your thigh, a light squeeze of flesh as it reaches halfway. “Not in. Aemond, I’m out shopping.”

He snorts back a laugh and, finally, your eyes are on him. Wide, panicked, and pleading for silence.

Aegon ignores it.

Fingers dance up the expanse of your thigh, a pleasant hum rumbling out his chest at the warmth of your skin. He can hear his brother on the other end of the line, unintelligible words blending with the familiar sound of his voice. He can almost picture Aemond, a wrinkle free shirt and tailored trousers, looking up at your building from the entrance, phone pressed to his ear and frown creasing his forehead. The image stays fresh in his mind as his fingers smooth over the soft skin that melts your thighs into the curve of your hips, and sneak their way under the elastic band of your panties.

He pulls at it and releases, watches the way it snaps back down onto your skin. A foot weakly kicks at his side, that stare of yours growing deadlier.

“Are you okay? What happened?” God, the way you want to comfort Aemond, it makes him sick. Or maybe that’s just his hangover. Yeah, that makes more sense.

All is forgotten, for a moment, as he traces over the slope of your mound, finger flexing to press against your clit, hidden out of sight beneath damp cotton. You try to play it cool, like his touch doesn’t faze you, but Aegon’s too quick to notice the hitch in your breath, the way you seem to take a moment too long to reply to his brother.

“Can’t you try to speak with your professor about it, Aim?”

The nickname you speak has Aegon laughing again, a facetious chuckle he presses into your knee, spine curved as he bends down to kiss it. Another kick, this one hits his ribs. Like a saddled horse, it spurs him on, tells him to move faster, touch you more.

It’s hard to pick which sight gets him harder: the peeling back of your panties to reveal the mouthwatering view of your cunt, shining with slick and inviting him to dive right in, or the way your faux composure crumbles, for an instance, back arching reflexively and teeth pressing down against the pillow of your bottom lip, your eyes glued right on his.

“That’s bullshit,” you seem to remember Aemond’s still there, ranting along his own woes in your ear. Again, Aegon wonders if he’s outside. “You’re literally the top student in your year. Hell, you’re probably one of the top students on our whole campus.”

Aegon can’t even disagree. Resident brainiac, the younger Targaryen has always been the overachieving student, winning every useless award and wearing every golden medal. And maybe, were you not two feet below him, dripping wet in nothing but a sports bra, he’d be interested in hearing where this conversation goes, find out what exactly his do-no-wrong brother has fucked up enough not even his flawless grades can save him. His finger is dipping into you before he can even let the thought repeat itself.

“My poor girl,” he mutters aloud, eyes glued on the pretty sight between your legs, hypnotised with how the digit disappears into your pussy, all the way in till knuckles kiss the pillowy soft lips. “So tight. Has mummy not been taking proper care of you, hm? Not letting someone stretch you out, fuck you real good like you deserve?”

“Would you shut up?” You hiss from the pillows, interrupting his reunion with his best friend. He curls his finger up, gently, pressing into the spongy wall of your cunt, just to delight in how easily the animosity flees your eyes as they roll back. Only to shoot wide open again, pressing the phone tighter against your ear. “Sorry, that wasn’t aimed at you! There’s- There was just some creep harassing me about the queue. Yes, I’m okay. No, you don’t have to come get me.”

“This is a private conversation,” Aegon’s free hand pinches the skin of your thigh, that devilish grin of his unwithering as he watches the subtle grind your hips give, fucking his finger deeper into the heat of your cunt. Even in anger, you want him. “Think I need to give her a present, something to keep her nice and stuffed,” he draws the word out, slipping a second finger into you.

You squirm away, for a moment, but his hand chases after you and you’re giving right in, at his mercy, one hand clutching the sheets, the other keeping the phone pressed tight against your ear. Two pumps of his fore and middle finger, until he lets them drift apart, a gentle stretch to your clenching walls.

“Or is my baby more of a Rose toy kind of girl, huh?” Whether on purpose or on instinct, words fall louder each time he opens his mouth. The very same mouth that’s leaning down to meet you in a gasp-worthy kiss, lips pressing sweetly against the throb of your clit, tongue coming out to play in a flurry of three kitten licks, all the while he works his wrist into a dull ache, each thrust forcing his fingers deeper than the last. “Something to soothe this little clit and something to fuck this tight pussy, is that what she needs?”

The hand on the mattress finds his hair, a harsh tug that has him parting with a few strands. He doesn’t care. In fact, he hopes the near-white locks get lost in your sheets if only to be found by a curious Aemond next time he can’t be bothered masking his way home and crashes at your place. What he wouldn't give to see the look on his brother’s face, holding up the hair to see it’s not even half the length of his well-groomed, pin-straight hair.

You’re talking again, doing your best to keep your voice neutral and your breathing even, hand still tangled in Aegon. He half expects you to pull again, kick him again. Tell him to focus on getting off of you, instead of getting you off. But you don’t do that. No, actually, you’re pulling him closer, keeping his mouth pressed to your soft skin, making sure his tongue continues to dance along the nerve-buzzing runway of your cunt, lapping up the taste of you till he’s sure it’s going to seep into his DNA, alter his genetic make-up so you’ll always be a part of him, even when you’re apart from him. 

The throb between his own legs is growing, pulsing your name in morse code. As much as he wants the sweet release of flipping you over, arching your back, and feeling your walls clench around the girth of his cock, he’s too attached to the taste of your skin, head burrowing itself deeper, nose smushed against your clit as the tip of his tongue knocks at your slit, soaked fingers spreading your lips open. His own desire will need to find a different method of salvation.

A free hand, switching between gripping at your waist and squeezing the meat of your thigh. It departs from your body with a muted hesitation, a momentary pause before it shrugs away his empty belt buckle and fishes out the lever to his zipper. A swift tug, his pants loosening their snug fit around his hips, leaving his fingers with the freedom to dip beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and grasp at his aching cock.

“Mhmm,” you almost moan, disguising it as an agreement to whatever his brother is saying to you now. In turn, Aegon lets himself give into it, moaning loud enough for the two of you, letting the sound vibrate into your soaked cunt. “Sorry, repeat that, I- I can’t hear you.”

Shameless as he’s always been, he lets his cock spring free from the confines of the nylon material, standing to attention and slapping against his lower stomach, the tip already dribbling with pre-cum.

“See how much I’ve missed her, baby?” This time, he’s talking to you, lips in a wicked grin, shining with your own wetness. Brushing dry fingers over the mess he’s made between your thighs, a mix of spit and arousal, he relishes in watching how easily you get his fingers soaked. One curl of three fingers, pressing teasingly at that spot he knows too well, then he’s pulling away, extending his hand out towards you. “Spit. Now.”

Your eyes watch his, wide and impatient. The cool air must be soothing, he thinks, brushing against your now abandoned pussy, yet he doubts you find any solace in it. You’ve always been the kind who wants to melt, not freeze.

Phone angled away from you, Aemond’s voice still pouring out its speaker, you lean forward and let it drip: a string of spit.

Basking in the proper attention you’re finally giving him, Aegon wraps the newly soaked hand around his cock, letting the head of it slap back against his torso before he really puts the mixture of your fluids to use. Tight fisted, lips parted, he finds himself leaning back on his haunches, free hand splayed out behind him and holding the weight of himself as he puts on a show for you, stroking his cock. The bed beneath you both creaks as he lets himself fuck up slowly into his hand, a cacophony of pretty moans and desperate whines filling the space between you. Can Aemond hear? God, he hopes so. 

The sight of your own hand snaking its way down between your legs is enough to remind him of his mission, the whole reason he’s not given into his want, his need to bury his cock inside you.

You barely brush over your clit before he’s slapping your hand away with a tut, a non-verbal protest as his lips reunite with your cunt, the hand between his own legs beginning a new pace, stroking over his hardness in rhythm with the strokes of his tongue and the speed of his fingers pumping into you.

Hang up, he wants to demand, but he’s got a mouthful of you and he intends to savour it until the end.

“Aemond,” your teeth bite down on your lip in sync with how his own drag over your clit, a silent warning against saying his brother’s name again. Next time, I’ll bite harder, he’s promising, only partially wishing you’ll tempt fate. “Shit, sorry, I have to go, I’m- yeah, next in line.”

Not even a goodbye.

Your thumb presses messily at the red button, the caller ID fading off your screen as the phone fades away into obscurity, left to get lost in the sheets as you give him what he’s been missing all alone, the sweet melody of moan, after moan, after moan falling from your lips, fingers pulling once more at the tresses of his hair.

“Hmm, d’ya think he can hear us, baby?” A nano-second, lips parted from your skin, his eyes flickering to the open window. “Think he’s out there waiting on your doorstep like a loyal hound, while you’re letting me get a taste of heaven?”

You’re close. He can see it, feel it, taste it, each stroke of his tongue greeted with a fresh wave of your sweetness. Both of you are a mess of unintelligible noises, hips rising off the mattress, and thrusting into open palms, sullying yourselves in the paint of pleasure. 

He calls your name softly, whiplash against the intense feeling swelling within you.

“Let me see it,” he’s begging, no shame. Glassy eyed, hungover, pussy drunk, wishing you’d give him the one thing he’s been missing all these weeks without you. “Cum. Go on. Cum for me. Please.”

The chord of tension snaps and at last you’re an uncontrollable mess beneath him. Eyes rolling back, back arching up, thighs shaking with a force of nature, the prettiest cries of his name. He’s there with you, the whole time, tongue, and mouth, and hand coaxing you through the maze of lust that consumes you in your orgasm, guiding you safely to the end.

You don’t calm with ease, still trembling as he places one last chaste kiss against you before he lets his face rest on the warmth of your thigh, smearing the stains you’ve left upon him onto your own skin as he continues bucking into his hand, each thrust more desperate, erratic, pathetic than the last, chasing the fast-approaching end.

Until your hand tugs at his hair and he’s frozen beneath your gaze, mouth hanging open, chest heaving in shallow breaths, hips stuttering as he fails to fully control his urges, the tip of his cock blushing red with angry desire, desperate for release. He’s awaiting your dismissal of his own touch, waiting for you to replace it with yours, remind him of just how well you know his body. Your hand does meet his skin, but not how he expects.

You slap him.

A sting in his cheek in the wake of it, and a rush of blood to his groin, eyes rolling back for a split second. “Hmm, next time hit me harder. Promise I won’t break.”

“How could you do that?” You heave out, no doubt intending your voice to hold more power, but it’s weak, and breathy, and turning him on even more. “Aemond was- He could’ve- Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen again.”

“If it’s any consolation, you tried. Haven’t answered my texts in weeks,” he’s aware he sounds desperate. Because he is. Or is that just his hangover again? “Would think you’d died or something, if I didn’t have to hear your name come out of Aemond’s mouth everyday.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s the one in the wrong.”

A blanket of silence engulfs you both, heavy and uncomfortable over your sweaty bodies. His hand still sits tight around the base of his cock, begging for attention, but he can’t bring himself to move.

Not until he knows you’re okay.

“I’m sorry,” the shape of it is foreign on his tongue, scarcely said and never with a speck of honesty. “I shouldn’t have put you in that situation. I just- I guess I just thought if you remembered how I could treat you… thought if I could just make you feel good, you’d-” He cuts himself off, words hardly making sense in his own head.

You heave a sigh, smooth your hand down the side of his face that still stings. “You don’t just make me feel good. You make me feel better than anyone else, and that’s the problem. First man to touch me, and now all the others can’t compare.”

Aegon is a fiend for praise, so used to words of disappointment and looks of disgust. But then one day, he dove between a woman’s thighs and heard her calls of pleasure, listened as she praised his efforts, revered his good job, delighted in his skills upon the mattress. It’s no wonder he began to find solace in the pleasures of the flesh, the first and only thing he’s done right in his life. 

“You let others touch you?” A silly thing to get hung up on, yet he can’t let it slip away. The hand around his cock skates forward, stroking slowly before smoothing over the sensitive tip with the palm of his hand.

You nod your head.

“Sometimes. Guys can get touchy at frat parties, but I’m sure you know all about that.” He doesn’t bother to negate it, he knows you know him too well. No doubt Aemond shared every anecdote of Aegon during his short-lived frat days. A hiss slips past his lips as he continues the slow caress of his aching length. You clear your throat. “Stop denying yourself. Just cum, it’s okay.”

Sometimes, he can follow orders.

Especially one like this, that leaves him reaching once more for the sweet relief of release, wave after wave of it rolling down his spine as his hand works himself to completion.

“Can I,” he stutters over a moan, cutting himself off and getting swept away in the rapid currents of reignited lust, each touch more frantic than the last.

You finish the thought for him. “Cum on me, Aegon.”

White, thick, hot. Rope after rope of his spoils spill down onto your naked skin, a painting so beautiful he almost wants to picture it and sell it on as modern art. It’s better than anything Aemond’s ever made with his easel and brush.

Time melts away into nothing, fading to obscurity as he floats on cloud nine, body weightless, mind rested. Tingles down his spine, up his thighs, on his face where you still touch him, thumb smoothing over his cheek.

A giggle pulls his mind back into his body.

“I told you this wouldn’t happen again, and now look at me!” Your tone is softer than earlier, even if your voice has regained its usual energy. “God, I just might be the biggest idiot.”

“Don’t say that. You’re smart,” you shoot a sceptical look his way, wanting to negate him, but he doubles down. “You are. Don’t forget I know your best friend, I hear all the shit you’re achieving on that campus. You’ve got me beat, at least. Couldn’t even make it past my first year before I dropped out.”

“I look like I belong at some conceptualist’s art exposition on tribute pictures.”

“I could give you a real tribute picture,” his eyes are glued to yours, even as he swipes a finger over his cum upon your lower belly and brings it up to his mouth, teasing his tongue with the salty taste. “Just need my phone camera, a nice big cheesy grin from you, and a printer.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“Oh, I will.”

Throwing a leg off the bed, he tests his stability, hand reaching down to tuck his limp dick back into his trousers and zip the fly up halfway. Despite the dizziness that threatens to cloud his mind, he manages to get his second foot on the ground.

“I’ll leave you to your shower, sweaty,” he calls over his shoulder, making his way over to the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” He could almost coo at you, wide-eyed gaze, legs tangled in floral sheets. You’ve sat up, and don’t seem to care about the way his cum drips down you onto the bed. All you care about is him, even if it's just for a moment, and Aegon has to physically stop himself from stumbling back over and engulfing you with his body once more.

Instead, he leaves you with a shrug and a simple explanation, “you fed me, now let me feed you.”

By the time he’s got eggs cooking on the stove and bread warming in the toaster, the sound of running water fills your apartment. A familiar buzz rings out, leading Aegon over to where his phone lays, buried in the cracks between your couch cushions. The screen lights up.

One missed call - Mother. 

Unlocking at the sight of his face, he swipes up on the screen. It opens onto a chat log. Your chat log. His stomach drops as he scans over the messages, dreading what inebriated-Aegon had gone and texted.

Needyou - 04:47 am

Plase - 04:49 am

Thinik Imgonna K Hole in nnnnn bathroOm - 04:52 am

All three messages are in blue.

Beneath them, your reply lives in a muted grey bubble, yet it somehow has his eyes watering. Maybe he just needs to turn the screen brightness down.

Send me your address. I’ll be there ASAP - 04:53 am.

The pop of the toaster scares him out his own skin. He turns his head only to curse under his breath. Flames engulf the small frying pan, the food within charred black. He gives a gentle call of your name.

“I hope you like your eggs well-done.”

+extra hyde.

so, how are we feeling? do we want more of these two weirdos ( affectionate )?

i stopped doing taglists a while back bc i lowkey always forget about them but @481theralicat dmed me a while ago asking to be tagged if i ever wrote a second part to drummer!aegon and that message was partially what gave me the motivation to finish part 2, so i feel like the least i can do it tag them. i hope you enjoyed it & the wait was worth it <3

[gilverrwrites]

I know they’re not an older man per se, but lately I’ve been thinking about Jason or Dick having a good cop-bad cop dynamic with Slade, where Slade is just incredibly mean to you but then Jay or Dick is there to coo sweet words at you

I know the obvious here is Bad cop Slade, good cop Dick or Jason. And I love that. Good cop Dick especially is MWAH! 💕 and I absolutely need to write actual smut for this, anon you beaut! Like Slade pistoning into your puffy, swollen, cum-filled sex, calling you ever name under the sun. Spanking your red raw ass, and calling you weak when you start to sob. But its okay baby, shh, shhhh. Dick is underneath you, kissing your tears, stroking your hair telling you how good your doing as if he's not contributing to your overstimulation, fuck!

But I implore you to stick with me here when I say, AK! Slade and Jason - bad cop, WORSE cop.

Specifically: AK!Jason/Bat!Reader/Slade

As per, Slade is loyal to the money, but this is definitely a darker portrayal of Jason.

Warnings: Dub-con, swearing, interrogation kinda, choking, restraints, humiliation. No smut, but maybe I’ll write an extension.

The first thing you notice is the smell, you're underground somewhere for sure. Then you feel the cold, a chill across your warm skin, making your hair stand on edge. From that, you register very quickly that you’ve been stripped down to your underwear.

Appalled, you shoot up, reaching to cover yourself but only manage to make it an inch before cold, hard metal cuts into your body. You're tied to a chair by a multitude of pressure points that both hurt and rouse something salacious.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You can’t believe you fucked up this bad. Bruce had told you to get out of the city but you’d refused. You had to be on your top game but you’d fucked it, caused more problems.

Accessing your surroundings your eyes dart around the room until then fall on your captor. Deathstroke is sat a few feet away, leaning back on his chair, seemingly examining something on a tablet. It's hard to tell, the one eye hole in his mask shrouded by shadow. You hadn’t expected him to be at the militia checkpoint. He’d taken you down easier than you’d like to admit, but you’d put up a fight. Tooth and nail. So seeing him so relaxed without so much as a chip in his armour is a little disheartening.

“Trackers in your suit, right?” His deep voice echoes through the room, making you jump. “I would’ve just patted you down, but the boss man didn't want to take any risks.”

His head turns, and you can feel his eye raking across your bound and exposed form. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You recoil into yourself, disgusted by his blatant perversion, and the warm flush it sends through your body.

“Tell your ‘boss’ to come face me himself.” You spit between gritted teeth. His response only adds to your unease.

“Don’t you worry, pet. He’s on his way.” It’s infuriating, the name, the way he words things so tenderly but laces it with obvious, sickly amused derision. If you could feel any smaller, that would do it. “And between you and me, I get the feeling he’s pretty excited to get his hands on you.”

As if on queue, the piercing sound of an opening door creaks behind you. Despite the squeaky warning, you nearly jump for a second time when it slams shut once more. Heavy boots forebodingly stamp against the concrete floor. As much as you want to, you refuse to crane your neck to get a better look. It’s all you can do to maintain even a little bit of power.

“Well, well, well.” The modulated voice is even more sinister in person. His hand grabs the back of your chair, pulling you back a few inches, no doubt just to prove that he could. To instil fear. He leans over you, close enough that the cold metal of his helmet brushes the side of your face, but still, you refuse to look at him. “If it isn’t Baby-Bat.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your venom surprises you. You haven’t heard that nickname in years and it brings out a visceral reaction. It’s what Jason used to call you in jest. Baby-Bird and Baby-Bat, heroes in training.

“Or what?” He challenges, shaking one of the wrist shackles, as though you’re not already well aware of your less-than-ideal predicament. “You’re in no position to be calling any shots, babe.”

“Not for long. Batman will save me, he’ll save the city.” He has too. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Ha.” Deathstroke’s sneer is dry. When you look over to him he gestures his head toward the top dog but you remain resolute in your refusal to look at him. “I’d keep that name out of your mouth, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Wh-“ The words are cut from you before you can get them out. The Arkham Knight, either pissed at your pitiful attempt at a power play, or the mention of Batman's name; lifts you and your chair completely by your throat, turning you mid-air, then placing you back down, precariously balancing you on the seats back legs before getting in your face. All the while his tight grasp on your neck never waivers.

Face hidden, tall, broad, he’s an intimidating sight. The whole display makes your heart race.

“He…” Red-hot rage drips from every word, and you feel your body temperature rising to meet it. “Can’t. Save. Shit.”

The sound of his ragged breathing is amplified by whatever tech he’s using to distort his voice. Each pant sends a shockwave through your body. And you press your legs together to suppress its effect.

“Get fucking comfy.” He barks as he releases you and stands back, watching as you heave for air and teeter wildly before willing the chair to balance on all fours. “Cause he’s not coming for you. Nobody is.”

“Case in point.” Deathstroke finally approaches. It takes his long legs less than 5 steps to reach your side. He stands about half a foot taller than the already gigantic Knight. The way in which they both tower almost impossibly tall makes you tremble, and you’ve no idea if they notice. You can’t stand the added authority they possess simply by being clothed and masked while you sit practically naked for them. Fear is one thing, you can handle being afraid, you’ve been trained for that, but their deliberate show of power, how they make you feel so fragile is awakening something you don’t know how to curb. “Take a look at your hero.”

A screen is thrust into your face, a live feed of a rooftop somewhere in Miagani Island. Batman is on his knees, fists pounding the floor. His mouth is moving but you can’t lip-read him from the angle. Clearly, he’s not okay. This isn’t like him, he must be dosed up on something. In the depths of your brain you know he’ll overcome it, he’ll save Barbara, you, everyone. But you can’t deny how dire things are beginning to look. The doubt must show on your face because The Arkham Knight's robotic voice lets out a short, cold laugh.

“Now you’re getting it.” The wicked pleasure he gets from teasing you is ten times worse than Deathstroke’s blatantly false niceties.

“W-why am I here?” You internally curse yourself for the way your voice breaks. It sparks you to muster a little more spunk as you keep questioning them. “You could have killed me, why didn't you? What do you want?”

“Bring us up to speed on what he knows.” Deathstroke poses. “His new hideout.”

“How he’s getting his gear patched up.” The Knight continues. Neither are looking at you, having turned the tablet back to themselves. “We know you know.”

When you don't respond The Knight slants his helmet upward to consider you, slowly cocking it to the side as you stare him down.

Eventually, Deathstroke follows suit. You wait until the device is tucked away, until you're certain you have their full attention to speak. “I won’t give in that easy.”

You keep your chin up as they turn to look at each other, but despite your bravado, you flinch when Deathstroke sharply drops into a crouched position. The rough fabric of his tactical gloves scratches the soft skin of your inner thigh as he wedges his fingers between your legs. You’d been pressing them closed, hiding how their interrogation had inadvertently been siring your arousal, but he pries them apart, shattering what little dignity you had left.

“Looks like he owes me another 10.” He nods at you before he turning back to the man in question. The Arkham Knight returns the look. Assholes, they’d bet on you. Now they’re having a silent conversation one in which you are the subject, but aren’t important enough to be privy to. Humiliating.

Finally, Deathstroke removes his hands, tracing them along your torso as he saunters behind you but before you can clasp your thighs back together The Knights boot comes down on your crotch, in a fast, precise motion. Pressing hard enough to make you keen and squirm. The chair rocks unsteadily beneath your withering.

“I thought you were better than this Baby-Bat.” No voice distortment can disguise his zeal. Something in the back of your brain suspects he’d been expecting, even hoping for this. And while you certainly hadn't been, you can't deny the sick intrigue you feel for whatever they have planned.

In shame you turn your head, screwing your eyes together as though blocking them out might make it all disappear. The grate of Deathstroke’s gloves on your face keeps you in the moment however, keeps your moral compass spinning.

“Gettin’ paid to break a cute thing like you.” He sounds wistful, gruff voice sinfully musing in your ear as he forces your head forward once more. “That’s a good day's work.”

“And you will break.” The determination in the Knight’s tone, the loudness of it has you peeking through your lids at his mask which is now inches from your face. Fear and excitement invoke a shiver that runs down your spine. “We’ll make you come apart, piece by piece, and we’ll enjoy every second.”

[chic-diet-inspired]

hiii! Do u eat any vitamins to prevent and help with side effects of ⭐ ving and do they actually work😭

Cuz i saw a post with a list of vitamins and now I can't find it

It said something like calcium for deteriorating teeth and bones

And some other stuff for hair loss, skin and nails

SUPPLEMENTS

Yes there are lots of supplements you should be taking incase you are fasting or restricting loads. Your body may start falling apart if you don't. I sometimes see people on here eat like a bag of cheerio's and a pack of biscuit and say they reached their cal limit, when they have not eaten anything that was actually nutritious (and also won't help them lose weight). I remember when I first started getting those deficiency markings on my nails. I hunted everything on the internet about it. It was either calcium or zinc deficiency. I had to look into my diet.

I know that Ed is supposed to be self-destructive and some people are okay with the deteriorating health(sometimes it is their goal) but I want to be a parent in the future and therefore I make sure to take care of myself. I do not judge anyone who does not want kids or are happy with the side effect of not having periods, struggling with an Ed is hard on itself and this community should be as tight knit as possible and support each other.

Back to the topic, I take zinc and iron supplements(Zinc for good hair and skin and iron for good periods and blood flow) because I noticed that I was having a lot of hairfall. Similarly I had tried being vegan and it didn't work out for me much, hence the white marks on my nails. I need the calcium. I also use vitamin E externally for hair and skin. Also everyone in my family takes a vitamin D3 tablet once every fortnight. I try to get all my macros in for the day, eat balanced diet with protein, carbs and veggies(roughage), and then when I have completed my daily quota of healthy eating only then can eat one thing that I like. I also practice intuitive eating. But again what works for me may not work for you.

So my suggestion, see what feels right for your body. Look at the signs and what you are lacking a consume those supplements. And again supplements in themselves can be expensive as well so if possible try to change your diet first to cater to your needs. And also consuming supplements over a long period of time can cause resistance to them. This happened to my grandma. She used (and still takes, god knows why) calcium supplements but when she fractured one of the bones in her spinal cords the doctor looked it up and found out that she has calcium deficiency and none of the supplements were working for her. They had to give her calcium shots. So be careful what you put in you body.

And again look for what time each supplements needs to be taken, how it is going to work and what foods to avoid in case you are taking them. Like lesser salt consumption in case you decide to take iodine.

Here I attached some pictures that might help.

[noparadiseinthis]

This is the first time I've posted here and it's also the first time I've written in English. Bear with me, Grammarly helps, but it doesn't work miracles.

How I feel when I see you right in front of me

Spencer Reid/fem!reader

Warnings: mention of previous drug addiction, mention of suicidal thoughts, mention of the reader's mother's cancer (sorry, it's for the plot), angst (I think)

Summary: Spencer has a new girlfriend. You're everything he could wish for. Unfortunately, you doesn't know about his previous "habit" and leaves something in plain sight. Is Spencer strong enough?

Words: 614

For Spencer, you're more than he deserves at any time in his life, but especially at times like this. Staring at the small tablet in front of him, Spencer knows he should have told you when things started to get serious, but he couldn't. He couldn't see the look in your eyes. He couldn't see the look in your eyes. He couldn't see the look of disappointment on your face when you found out you were seeing an addict - a former addict.

At least that would have avoided the situation. When you told him you'd buy your mother's medication and leave it at his house until you picked it up later, he didn't take much notice. He didn't think to ask what medicine she was taking. It seemed so obvious now. What else could a woman with cancer be prescribed?

Now Spencer looked at the morphine tablets as if they were his salvation or his worst enemy. Remembered all too well the feeling, the lethargy, the anxiety that itched under his skin when the effect wore off and he had to inject again. Morphine and Dilaudid weren't exactly the same thing, but they were close enough for her mind to flood with memories. For his skin to itch again. His arm was red and scratched, with perfect marks from the path his nails had traveled.

It's been so hard, Spence, you cried into his chest one night. Caring for a sick mother was enough to bring anyone down, he knew that more than anyone, which was why he resisted that tug on his flesh that led him to pick up a tablet. Just one, she won't notice. You didn't need him to become a burden in your life. You deserved someone better, someone worthy. Someone who didn't look at your mother's medicines as if they were a feast.

Getting sober was a long and arduous process, which he thought about interrupting several times. Now and then, when it got too hard, he thought about stopping something else too. His life. He never wanted to enter that spiral again. He couldn't throw it all away.

Spencer couldn't do many things, but it was still so easy. Reach out, take one of them, and put it in. Would such a small dose still have an effect after so long? Maybe he could try.

He grabbed his hair, forcing himself to think of you, of your proud smile every time he started telling you random facts about the least interesting subjects, but you listened anyway, with love in your eyes. A love he didn't deserve.

Sitting on the sofa, Spencer's hands drummed on his thighs. He didn't even blink anymore, staring at the morphine in front of him. The moment his fingers moved of their own accord, testing the texture of the table next to his enemy of the moment, the door to the living room opened.

"Spence, are you home? I've come for the medicine"

He had never felt so relieved to hear your voice, and immediately withdrew his hand, still horrified at the fact that he had almost reached her. Almost destroyed everything.

When you approached him, Spencer forced himself to form the most genuine smile he could manage, hugging you tightly.

"I love you," he whispered against your temple.

I love you and I'm not strong enough. Over his shoulder, Spencer was still looking at the pills. Wondering if he'd be able to hold back next time. Wondering what you'd say if you knew.

"I love you too," you said when you came out of his embrace, smiling fondly as you held your boyfriend's face in your hands.

That didn't help him.

[neuherbsblog]

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[reddamselette]

“We need to know less about each other,” Leo whispered against Jason’s lips. He swallowed dryly, closing his eyes for a simple moment before he dropped his head onto Jason’s shoulder and breathed.

Jason rested his head back against the wall behind him, staring up at the shining and twinkling stars and constellations in the dark blue blanket of a sky. His hands were cradling Leo’s head, fingers tangled in brown curls. His heart thudded in his chest, his cheeks burning and flushed with crimson red as the blood rushed to his face.

It was unfair, he thought.

How easy it was for Leo take his heart and shatter it like a stick hitting a drum, lightning crackling from the ground into the clouds. They were outside by the bar, celebrating with the others late on a summer night where it was hot enough during the day but worse once the sun had set. It was unfair, he thought, how Leo could say that after so long. “I can’t know less about you, Leo.”

Jason could never forget or unlearn what has been engraved in his mind like etchings on stone tablets. He would always remember the slightest shine in big brown eyes when he would gesture wildly with his hands as he spoke about something he was passionate about or the curl of his lips that would spread into a grin that was the most beautiful thing he could witness.

The touches that were searing hot and burned his fingertips into Jason’s skin, every nerve tingling until he was on fire. Jason memorized the specific pattern of Leo’s heartbeat underneath his palm, the scars on his arm that were shaped like a constellation, and how every curl hung over his eyes or curled up on the crown of his head; fluffy, soft curls that felt like he could fly running his hands through each strand and twirling it between his fingers.

He could never know less about Leo Valdez because his very soul was made to absorb every detail about him like the fact he would chew on his lip a few times before biting the inside of his cheek when he was overwhelmed. Leo had the habit of tapping his finger, whistling or humming to himself in concentration. How his voice was smooth but there was quirks of an accent, a rasp with certain words and a slip into the swirls of the Spanish language.

Leo pulled away, his hands sliding off of Jason’s waist to the wall on either side of his head, caging him in as if his mind and mouth was saying one thing but his body and heart were saying another. “This was a mistake.”

Jason looked at him with sad eyes, gripping his hair between his fingers as he shook his head. “Was it? Or are you saying that because you feel guilty? I don’t want to be strangers, don’t do that to me.”

“We should’ve stayed strangers since the very beginning, Jason.” Leo sighed and hovered his hand near Jason’s cheek, heat radiating from the close vicinity of his palm to his skin before he leaned away and gently removed Jason’s hands from his hair. “You’re everything to me, you know.”

“Am I? It doesn’t seem like it.”

“You are.”

“I hate you,” Jason lied and he lied painfully. His body was resting against the wall, using it as support as he stared into Leo’s features, sky blue irises roaming over his figure, his hands, his hair, his lips. He could never truly hate him because he fell in love with him but it wasn’t enough. Jason would never be enough.

Leo didn’t reply for several moments. His hands were limp at his sides, the area was barely illuminated and masked his fingers curling into his palms, nails digging into his skin and created crescent shapes. He knew Jason would never hate him but he wished he would. Leo deserved it for hurting him in such a way, for cradling him and embracing him the way lovers of so many years do. They weren’t official, they never would be, but it hurt. It ripped Leo apart. It was as if smoke infiltrated his lungs and drowned out the oxygen, stealing away his ability to breathe. “I know.”

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

They were Roommates! 3/?

Summary: We get some perspective. Jason's had a long day and all he needs is his princess to help him relax.

Pairs: Roommate!Reader x Jason Todd

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: SMUT, FEELINGS, POV SWITCH, chocking, cock warming, praise, pining, dark humor, fluff. reader gets a job, I have no excuses but this kind of hurt to write.

AN: This Chapter is from Jason's POV. I just feel like we needed some insight. Also just wanted to repost this because apparently it didn't upload properly yesterday. Hopefully this time it works.

Part 2

What a long fuckin day, Jason thinks to himself as he trudges up the stairs to your shared apartment. He's been out all night and day chasing down leads for Batman and hasn't felt this bone tired since he crawled out of the pit.

His duffle bag like a sack of bricks on his shoulder and his feet doused in concrete. But his goal is ahead of him. He knows your home right now, you told him this morning when he called to ask about your upcoming Art Show that you had pieces to get ready and you’d be locked inside all day.

The idea of you waiting for him pushes him further, faster. Just a few more steps and he'll be home. Not that he thought of you as home.  No, that'd be too much. You're friends, just friends, who haven't been able to keep your hands to yourself for longer than 2 days for the last few weeks. So maybe you’re just very good friends.

He pushes through the door, only a little grateful that Bruce made him leave his guns at the manor for Alfred to clean. Apparently, he wasn’t doing it properly. Though he’s about 90% certain he’s never going to see his favourite firearms again.

He makes a beeline for your room upon noticing you left the door open. Are you waiting for him? You wouldn’t be, right? His ears perk up at the sound of your soft humming, making his heart pound and his hands sweat. Fuck, he just needs to get his hands on you.

“Hey Jay,” you say in that velvety tone, when you see him approaching down the hall. Pulling your headphones off and smiling your cute little face at him. He can hear Taylor Swift's newest song echoing from them, but he barely even registers it. He’s so focused on you.

Fuck, you’re a wonderful sight. Your tablet resting on your crossed legs, your stylus slotted delicately between those delicate fingers, hair up in messy bun, tiny fly away's framing your beautiful face, knee high socks that nearly give him a heart attack and his fucking red flannel. Fuck, if he had your skills he’d sit down and capture how perfect you are.

His eyes take all of this in as his heart tries his best to tell him something. But he can't stop moving. His body goes limp as he flop’s down onto you, resting his head on your silky thigh. All he wants is to sink his teeth into your flesh, mark you, cover your pretty skin in signs that you're his. 

Instead, his hands dig into the shirt that’s fanned out over your legs. His shirt, if only the woman in it were his too. He thinks, grateful he’s managing to keep these confusing thoughts inside, “Princess,” he mumbles into your leg. 

“Long day at the office?” Your hands start to brush through his hair, combing the knots out that had formed throughout his search. Your nails graze along his scalp, he shivers as goosebumps spread down his neck and onto his arms. He may not remember hell, but this sure feels like heaven.

“Mmm,” he kicks off his boots, the steel caps thumping when they hit the ground. His bones start to feel gooey as he presses his face deeper into your thigh. He doesn’t mean to kiss you, but he just can’t seem to help himself.

“Bruce have you digging holes in the garden again?” your voice like wind chimes on a still day. Fuck, he could listen to you talk forever about whatever you wanted.

“He does love his family bonding exercises,” his hands drift up, wrapping around your hips, hugging you tight and hiding his face, unable to look at you. He hates the lies, hates that he can't tell you. But Dicks right, it's too dangerous for a civilian. He couldn't forgive himself if anything happened to you and if he was the one who put you in danger….

“Want me to get you anything?” 

“Just this for now.” He snuggles up into your tummy.

You lean down, placing soft kisses into his hair. He’s thankful you can’t see his face, sure that it would give away just how right you feel..

“You rest Jay, I got you.” you lay back, your hand still in his hair as you begin humming the song you had been listening to before.

“Hmm.. thanks Princess.”

You only get to the chorus before Jason’s phone starts to ring, “back pocket,” he grumbles, rubbing his cheek into you, “can you get it for me?”

“Ah huh,” your hand reaches into his pocket, “it says mother dearest?” you sound so confused but he can’t help the laugh that escapes him, “Jay I thought-”

“Jesus, can't I rest? answer and tell him to fuck off please.” you let out a tiny sound that sounds like you agree and then the bloody hollering starts.

“Little Wing, I need-”

“Umm hello?” you interrupt.

“- oh you're not Jason. Hey girlie,”

“Jason, why is Dick in your phone as mother dearest?” you whisper, scrunching your brows up at him when he looks up at you.

His eyes start to grow heavy, rubbing his cheek into your tummy. Fuck, Jason does not want to talk to his brother right now. He inhales your perfume mixed with the lingering scent of his cologne. It makes his pants grow tighter and his brain feel foggy, “tell him I'm busy and to annoy someone else,”

“Jason can't come to the phone right now, he's dead.” you joke and he can hear the fucking panic starting to form in Dick’s head.

“He's what?!” He hears Dick shout through the phone. His brother starts to ramble and Jason can imagine the man pacing through his house, his arms flailing around him like he’s going to kill someone. Jason can't help the laugh that escapes him.

“Dick doesn't get the joke Princess. Put it on loudspeaker.” he whispers to you, turning his head so his brother will hear him, “I'm not dead, calm down.”

“Don't you tell me to calm down! She shouldn't make jokes like that, because- wait, am I a loud speaker?”

“Yes,” you both say at the same time.

“I just wanted to make sure you got home ok, and now I'm having a heart attack. Fuck you both very much.” He hangs up and you both burst into laughter.

“Your brother's a bit of a drama queen.” his head jostles on your giggling stomach, “Like did he think I’d be so casual if you were actually dead?”

"You don't know the half of it," Jason says, taking the phone from you and throwing it away.

"We just doing this all night or?" 

"What you have in mind?"

"Haven't had a girls night in ages and you look like you could use some pampering." You suggest as your fingers work their way back through his hair.

XxX

He must've fallen asleep. His first clue is that you're gone and he's wrapped up in your cotton blanket, the second is he can smell the snicker doodles in the kitchen. The rich cinnamon sugar scent, almost as sweet as you.

Ducking into his room he takes off his dirty clothes and throws on a pair of clean sweats before floating towards the kitchen like a cartoon. "Princess?" He calls when he can't see you.

"I'm over here," you call back. He spots you bending over the coffee table, arranging your pamper station for him. Fuck I love you. He thinks, in a friend way. Yeah. She's my friend. But the way his shirt rises up over your ass makes him want to do some very unfriendly things to you. "Can you grab the cookies from the oven?"

"Yep," he says, with a pop of his lips, spinning on his feet towards the kitchen. 

"Thanks ba- I mean thanks Jay," you turn trying to hide your embarrassment, but he can see it. You wanted to call him babe. Maybe this isn't as one sided as he thought?

"What are we doing first?" He tries to say casually, sitting down on the couch and taking in the vast array of items you've got set out.

"Facials," you smile, picking up the little bowl of cream, "want me to put it on you?"

"Yes please," he sits back, almost moaning at how soft your fingers feel on his face, "what's in this it smells yummy,"

"Honey, lavender, oats, all the good stuff," 

"It smells great and it feels so good," he presses his face into your hands. "Princess, i-"

"Finished, you look so cute!" You say excitedly, "ok, now you do me,"

"Do you?" He raises his brow at you.

"Jay," you playfully hit him, "I want a facial too." He can't help the face he makes and you slap him again, "come on, get ya mind out the gutter."

"I'm just teasing," he swipes a handful of the cream, rubbing it into your soft features. His fingers press into the crease into your brow, your cheeks. You grin up at him and his heart feels like it might burst. Holding your chin he presses a soft kiss into your lips, "tastes good too," he beams, when you open your eyes you peer back at him so sweetly his heart thumps even faster. "What now Princess?"

"We just need to wait ten minutes then we can wash it off," you say getting up and grabbing the cookies, from the table "we can eat these while we wait."

"Princess these are delicious," he moans as the spongey cookie melts in his mouth, "tastes almost as good as you."

"Jay." You level your deadpan stare at him.

"Princess." He stares back.

"Can I do your makeup after?" You perk up, sitting on your knees.

"Can we watch Heathers in bed?"

"Deal."

"How many of these am I aloud to eat?" He asks, stuffing another one in his mouth. Fuck if he only had to eat two things for the rest of his life. He knows exactly what he would pick.

"All of them? I can just make more if you want." 

"Just for me?" He's surprised, he's not sure why. In the year you've lived here he's always surprised by just how much the little things you do for him chip away at his walls.

"Who else?" Your words circle his heart, the tips of the letters just grazing the outside.

"Princess, can I wash this off? It's starting to itch,"  he says, the honey sticking to his fingers and the lavender that smells exactly like you wafting up his nose. He's having trouble keeping his thoughts pure and not just bending you over the couch and making you beg for him.

"Yeh, I'll get the movie ready and move the snacks," 

"Fuck, what the fuck am I doing?" He says to himself in the bathroom mirror, his face still smelling like you, "just ask her out to dinner," he washes the rest off, but the scent still lingers. "What would Bruce do? Deny his feelings for ten years and wait for her to make the move. I can't fuckin do that." He wipes his hand down his face in frustration. 

Shit, he feels like he's stuck between a crowbar and an explosion. But if he fucks up this time, you could be the one to get hurt and that's the last thing he wants.

"You're taking a while in there, are you alive?" You knock on the closed door, "you talking to Batman in the mirror again?"

"I do not do that," he says as he brushes past you and into your room where you've got the cookies resting on the edge of your bed.

"You kinda do," you call out.

Fuck me, she's going to kill me. Again. He thinks, holding his face in his hands as he reaches for another cookie and savors the taste.

"Alright, Jay," you say, swishing into the room, his shirt sitting just low enough to cover your panties. Your hands drift up his bare arms, stopping at his shoulders as you step toward him, your legs spreading over his and your ass lands on his thighs. "Ready for your makeover?"

"Is this how I get it?" His arms encircle you, "Can I get one every morning?" He squeezes your ass and you jump, making his cock throb underneath you. His fingers dig into your sides making you squirm and the cutest little sounds escape your mouth. Is this your version of torture? It’s definitely preferable to other methods he’s endured, he thinks, he could get used to this kind of treatment. 

"Jay, stop," you laugh, "you're tickling me, Jay, please," squirming even more on his lap, his cock growing harder and harder by the second, "Jason, babe, stop, let me do your makeup."  

His eyes meet with yours and he stops tickling you. Did you just? No. It must’ve been a slip of the tongue. 

"Make up time," you try to smile, your eyes looking everywhere but at him, what is that about? Is he reading too much into this? "Maybe a smokey eye? What colors would you like?" 

"Red and black, please Princess." You reach back for your eye shadow pallet and he tries to think of something else. Anything else, Dick farting on Tim, Damien getting eaten by his dog. But with that lavender still on his skin and you on his lap, all he can think about is kissing you again.

You press your fingers into his face, your dominant hand holding the brush like it was made there as you lean over him. Brushing the color onto his closed eyes, your cinnamon breath fans over his face warms his heart. Your tits pressing into his hard chest have a similar effect further south.

"Jay, stop squirming," you say as you continue to wiggle on top of him. "I'm going to poke your eye out," Like he can help it. Like he can help just how much to affect him.

"I'm trying, are you nearly done?"

"True art takes time,"

"I don't know how much I got left,"

"Why's that?"

"Princess if you don't hurry up I might break your pretty brush," his hands grip your hips, hoping to keep you still. Instead it gives him more leverage to rub up into you, grinding his very hard and seeping cock into your delicate panties. 

"I'm nearly done, just one more thing." He feels you reach back, his eyes still closed. Then the softness of your kiss overwhelms him and he can't hold it back any longer. 

He flips you underneath him. You let out an adorable squeal of excitement as his cock grinds on the wet patch in your panties. "Fuck" it feels like someone finally cracked a hole in the horny pond. he tries to stop but can't, “I need to be inside you,” 

"Like right now?" You say, grinding up into him and shoving your panties down your legs as fast as you can. "But I haven't finished your makeup" Fuck, you're always so ready for him. Maybe you can finish his make up? He thinks slyly, hmm this could be fun.

“Right now Princess,” his hand fumbles as his blood thrums. He dips his fingers into your heavenly pussy and you’re already clenching down on him, "fuckin hell. You're already so wet. I got an idea," he moves back, laughing when you let out a huff as his fingers leave you. He rests his back on the wall behind your bed, "come here,"

'Ok?" You ask, seemingly confused about what he's doing. But when you see him shake his pants off and throw them on the floor, your mouth falls open and you start staring at him again. Fuck, it makes him feel like a God. 

You fall onto your tummy crawling towards him, like sin personified, like you need him as much as he needs you. He glimpses those pretty tits through the large gap in the front of his shirt, "What are we doing?"

"Since you insist on doing my makeup,” he tuts, “you're going to sit on my cock while you finish it. Don't look at me like that. Come on now,"

"I'm definitely going to poke your eye out," you side eye him as you raise to your knees.

"You won't. I trust you," he says, taking your hips in his hands, sighing when your warm fingers wrap around his cock. 

"Good girl, now sit," he takes deep breaths as your tight little pussy envelops him, your creaminess sliding down the hard ridges of his cock, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. 

"Ok," you pant, squirming around him with your eyes closed, "I've just gotta-" you pick up your pallet, swiping some black over your finger and pressing it into his eyelid. 

“Please don't make that face,” he squints, knowing what you look like when you get focused, “I'm having a hard enough time,”

“This was your idea,” you sass, wiggling your ass and he feels like he might just let you poke his eyes out. 

He thrusts up, moaning when you bite down on your lip to try and keep your concentration. His hand moves, slipping over your hip to fall right at your clit. His thumb lazily swiping up and down making you spasm and pull your hand away.

“Jay,” you shudder, falling forward and into his chest, your hands holding his cheeks as you reach up to kiss him. Pride swells in his chest, knowing that he can have you like this whenever he wants. That you’re so open and trusting of him, ready to fall apart in his arms at any given moment.

“Makeup done?” He mumbles between kisses. His cock with a mind of its own as it starts to slowly thrust into you.

“It's,” you lean back, taking in your handy work, your delicate fingers brushing over his cheeks. You’re cheeks are flushed and your beautiful eyes take him in, “kinda smudey now, but it looks good.”

“Good,” he lifts his knees bringing you even closer to him, “now about this shirt,” his hands slip in between the buttons, ripping it in half. 

“Jay,” you gasp, and the shock on your face was worth it. Until you pout at him, “that was my favourite shirt,”

“I got heaps of flannels, you can have all of them Princess,” he peels the shirt from your arms, bowing his head so he can take your tit in his mouth, his strong tongue flicking over your nipple. Moving his other hand so his thumb can do the same to your clit, “still upset about the shirt?” He pant’s when you start to bounce on his cock.

“No, Jay I-” he knows what you're going to say, he can feel how tight you're getting around him. You just need a little push, his mouth sucks into your neck, tasting the last remnants of your face mask mixing with your sweat. You keep making those noises as bites into you, the fucking sweetest sounds on the earth, he wants to have his head clogged full of them.

“Cum,” his voice muffled as his teeth move to your nipple. You arch back, your hands grip tight to his legs, nails digging into his thick thighs,  Yes, mark me, he thinks, I'm yours Princess make me look like it, but his mouth says, “cum, cum on me, then you're going to do it again and again, cum Princess,”

His cock feels like it's in a vice as you shake and shiver over him, his name like a chant on your lips and your eyes tight with his. Your face is so beautiful as you fall apart on top of him, those tiny breathy moans echoing in his ears.

His hands slide around your waist, pulling you even closer, his lips connect with yours, “you did so well, wrap your legs around me," Your eyes lidded as you gaze back at him, "I got the next one,” he lifts you, sliding his legs underneath him to get more leverage. 

“Ready?”

“Yes Jay,” your voice is so lust filled, he wants to record it for when he's had a bad day. He thrusts up, your fingers winding through his hair, turning his head towards you. 

He'll never get used to how stunning you are, your eyes groggy and your lips swollen from his kiss, "fuck your beautiful," he kisses you deeply one hand on the back of your neck, the other gripping into your ass. "Keep those pretty eyes open for me," 

He's losing himself, losing any remaining semblance of sanity inside of you as he moves faster, harder "fuck I want to cum. Your little pussy feels so good Princess"

Your hands are drifting, seeming to want to touch every part of him before settling on his biceps. Your teeth bite down into his shoulder as he finds your g spot and it feels like fireworks shooting down his neck. "Fuck me back Princess," he slaps your ass making your pussy pulse around him.

“Again,” your voice getting breathier by the second, starting to grind down into him as he fucks you. He can feel your clit grazing his stomach, your tits brushing against the sensitive y shaped scar at the center of his torso. He's alive, alive for this. So he could make you cum on him everyday for forever . He slaps your ass over and over, feeling your pussy clutch and clench around him.

“Want to fill you, Princess,” His cock throbs inside you, your moans surrounding him like a symphony, “want to see that pretty pussy drip with my cum,”

“Jason,”

“Yes, cum. Cum, cum,” he moans in your ear, trying to hold back his own release, he wants to share it, to share everything. With you.

“JASON!” you scream, his name on your lips the richest sound in the world and as your pussy begins to convulse around him, he lets go. His cum filling you up, surrounding his cock and pumping into your pussy. He keeps going, fucking into you, letting you have as much of him as you need. He wants you spent, blissed out on his cock so that you never go searching for the feeling elsewhere.

His lips caress your neck as your shaking begins to slow, “did so well Princess, so perfect for me,” he praises you, lifting you up and laying you both on the bed.

Your head rest's on his chest as your little fingers trace the line of his scar. It feels strange, nice strange. Your fingers drift down the tail end of the why and he thinks maybe you're putting the butterflies inside him.

“You're fucking perfect,” your voice so fucking soft.

He smooths out the strands of your hair, not believing that you could ever truly think that of him. Not if you knew what he had done and all the lies he told you.

“How did my makeup hold up?” He asks, noticing the black smudges all over by your pretty face when you look up at him and wanting to change the subject, “I got it all over you,” he tries to wipe it clean.

“I think it looks better this way,” your soft hands brush his hair up, so gently. You're always so gentle with him. It makes his knees weak, “Hmm. You just need a jacket and a bit more black and you'll look just like how I imagine the Red Hood looks under that shiny helmet.”

“Oh really?” He knows you don't know, he's gone to very extreme lengths to ensure it. And asking you to dinner? What was he thinking, that's only going to make things more complicated. But he's not going to deny how it makes the pride swell in his chest, “Is that a look you like Princess?”

“Don't be jealous Jay. He's just mysterious and dark,” you shrug.

“I'm not jealous, beautiful, only a little intrigued.”

“Dressing up as him wouldn't hurt,” his smart girl, too smart. How is he going to keep this up? The closer, the deeper he falls the more likely you are to be in danger. He needs to tread very carefully. The last thing he wants is for you to get hurt.

Part 4

Taglist: (let me know if you want in bestie)

@princessbl0ss0m @letmebebatmanpls

[algea]

Even Ghouls Get Sick

a/n: sorry I've been so inactive, school is very stressful, please excuse me

reposts are greatly appreciated!!!

a request by @zoro-wifey18

here's a lovely little song to go with it

pairings: sick! simon ghost riley x fem!reader (reader is over 18)

warnings: lots and lots of fluff...Simon is sick and extra clingy

Simon was sick. His head was spinning like a fucking merry-go-round when he woke up, that's how he knew he was sick. He had never really experienced migraines, deeming it that he was "too young" to get them. But when he woke up, the pounding in his head made it very clear a migraine was what was happening. He groaned as he sat up, clutching his head in his hands. Simon shuffled to the bathroom, the feeling of vertigo washing over him once more. Slowly, he brushed his teeth and combed through his hair once, then pulled his balaclava on. He then threw some shoes on and heaved himself out of his barracks and over to yours.

A heavy banging on your door woke you up. You groaned and shot out a 'hold on.' Dragging yourself out of bed, you opened the door, half expecting it to be Soap with your morning coffee. Instead, it was your loving husband, Simon Riley.

"Simon? What the fuck are you doing here so early, baby?" You whispered, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him inside. You shut the door and then reached up, tugging off the balaclava and let it drop by your side. He blinked before responding gruffly,

"Massive fucking migraine, I feel like shit."

You frowned and rubbed a thumb across the top of his hand. Slowly, you then wrapped your arms around him, where then he slumped against you. "Oof. Let's get you laid down, big boy." You half-joked, guiding him over to your bed. You felt his forehead, only touching it slightly to find his skin already damp with sweat.

"Christ Simon, you're burning up." You exclaim, standing up and walking over to the medicine cabinet, grabbing ibuprofen and syrup for a cold. Filling a glass of water up, you make your way back to your husband, who had already tossed his shoes and shirt somewhere unknown.

"Here you are, love. I know you hate the syrup, but I can't have you feeling like shit." You sighed, dropping the tablets in his hand and lifting the glass to his lips. His hand covered yours as he took a sip with the tablets in his mouth. You then filled the cup for the syrup up, and tilted it into his mouth, where he swallowed it with a slight cringe. Before you could set the cup down, his arms softly attacked your waist, pulling you down beside him. You let out a tiny gasp, then a small giggle as he snuggled into you.

"Simon, honey, you could've let me put the cup down at least." You laugh. In response, he only let out a grunt, pressing his face into your shoulder more. You sighed in defeat, letting the large man take over your bed. You ran your fingers through his soft locks, letting your nails softly scratch his scalp. Simon let out a soft groan, tilting his head back towards your hands.

The two of you laid in that position for another hour and a half, at least until you decided to tell Price that Simon was out for the day.

"Honey." You called to him softly, sliding your hands across his shoulders.

"Will you let me get up? I need to tell Price you're out for the day." You asked.

"No." Simon replied curtly, squeezing your waist slightly.

"Baby, I've gotta let him know you're sick." You pressed.

"No." And he pulled you closer.

"Sweetheart, you'll suffocate me to death squeezing me like that."

"Don't care." His hand cupped the back of your head.

"Simon..." The other hand trailed down your spine, making you shiver. A sigh left your lips before you forced him off of you, much to yours and his disappointment.

"I'm real sorry hon, but I've gotta tell Price." You muttered, going into the bathroom and brushing through your hair once. You then pulled on a pair of shoes and Simons favorite sweatshirt, which was now yours, and kissed him on the cheek.

"It'll only be a few minutes, love, I promise." And on that note, you walked out the door.

It was only a 4 minute walk to Price's office, but you knew the path so well that you could cut it down to a 2 minute walk. By the time you had reached his office, you found that your dear friend had just brewed a pot of coffee. You knocked on the open door twice, then walked in. Price's head lifted to you, where kind eyes met kind eyes.

"Ah, Y/N, how good to see you." John smiled.

"Good morning, Captain, I hope I'm not interrupting something." You responded kindly.

"Not at all, what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, taking a sip of coffee.

"Well sir, I thought I'd tell you that Simon is sick in bed." You sighed.

"Well I'm not fucking surprised, his dumb ass didn't bring an extra set of clothes to the last mission. He was freezing his ass off, that I know for sure." Price laughed, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Of course he didn't." You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. Lord knows, your husband is known for being a bit stubborn when it comes to weather.

The two of your chatted for an extra minute before you told him that you were needed by Simon once more. This time, you cut the walk from Price's office to your barrack by 3 minutes, mostly because you were sprinting back. Opening your door, you were met with Simon's chest.

"Sorry about that, Price was chatty today." You smiled at him, meeting his blank expression.

"Don't look at me like that, Simon. I know it took a little longer that usual." You frowned, reading into his expression. You were only met with his arms lifting you up and carrying you to the bed.

"For someone who's sick, you sure are extra clingy today." You laughed.

"Piss off, can I not just give my wife some love?" Simon groaned back.

"I never said you couldn't, just saying this is more than normal."

"Whatever....I love you." He murmured, slipping his eyes shut.

"I love you too, Simon." And with that, you both fell asleep.

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

a/n: I truly do apologize for not posting, school is kicking my ass, especially English (the irony, I know).

I absolutely love this request btw, it really shows the human side of Simon we probably won't ever see.

[idyllcy]

Had no chance against the Marxist girl with marijuana

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: Cupid's arrow grazes Komaeda's arm a little too hard

The bow of Cupid is ruthless.

Komaeda presses his hand to his mouth as he watches you sit at the library table. His heart rams against his chest. He had just wanted to talk to you and catch your eye somehow. It was innocent, he swears. He didn't even think as far as you staring at him. You were gorgeous. Your lips. Your hair. Your face. It was like the greeks had sculpted you of marble and brought you to life like in the myth of Pygmalion. 

Komaeda stares back at you, lips parted in awe as you stare at him.

Ah. You were...dazzling.

You snap out of your trance, and Komaeda snaps out of his.

"Sorry," You laugh awkwardly at him. "I'll pack up."

"Thank you," He smiles, praying you don't notice the red burning at his neck and ears.

He steps away from you, trying to ignore the way your eyes burned into the back of his skull. His neck is warm with embarrassment. Ah, how could he stare at another student like that? He was probably older than you were. He fans his face as he watches you step out under the moon and grimaces. He couldn't do that. Not now. He couldn't afford to fall for someone like that. Feelings are foolish things. He can't believe he caught himself in a trap he set for someone else.

Komaeda picks up a couple of books, sending a glance your way. 

He's noticed a couple of your habits. For one, you have never bothered fixing your bed hair. You drink iced lattes, preferably with oat milk. You like picking at the skin on your nails. Sometimes you rip at it until it bleeds. He doesn't like it when you do that. Yet, he's not someone who knows you, so he doesn't step out of line. Ah, you also stick stickers onto your face when you grow disheartened. It's cute.

Komaeda slips a book back into the shelf, checking the cart to see if there are any books left for where you sit. He flips through the tablet in his arms, checking off which books are back on the shelf. He glances at the setting sun through the stained glass, the colors of pink and orange reflecting on his skin. He was glad. He looked healthier these days. It seemed like the trial medicine was working. His chemo was also barely forcing him to lose hair. It was nice, even though he misses being able to eat without throwing up.

He taps the final checkbox, turning to shoot you one last glance before pushing the cart away.

Komaeda counts the final books in his arms, and the sun's completely disappeared. The stars and moon are out, and he pauses at the time. It's almost closing. He has to make an announcement. 

"This is a reminder that the library closes in five minutes." His voice rings through the intercom, and people start filing out. He checks the security cameras while keeping an eye out on everyone. The faces are a blur to him. They don't seem that important, though he remembers some of the regulars. It isn't his first year here, after all. 

As the last person leaves, he wonders where you are. Did you lose track of time again? He made sure to announce that the library was closing. He waves to his coworkers as they file out and heads to where you're supposed to be. The rest of the library is empty, and it looks almost eerie. Gothic libraries never looked good when it was night. They look too creepy for Komaeda's liking, but he supposes it covers his face a little. He wouldn't want to scare you with how ugly he was.

He finds you resting right where he left you.

He steps to the side first, adjusting the clocks.

Stepping up to you, he shakes your shoulders.

"Hey, time to wake up." He places his hand on your shoulder gently, voice just as soft.

Komaeda takes a step back as you stir, and he reaches for your hair unconsciously as you sit up. You're still dazzling as ever. He wonders if he could ever amass the courage to actually talk to you. You scare him a little. You're so attractive; surely other people have their sights on you? You deserve someone who isn't him. After all, he is hideous.

You jump in your seat, and Komaeda jolts back.

"I'm so sorry!" Komaeda watches you bow a full ninety degrees to him, and he panics.

"No, no! Don't worry about it! You seemed tired, so I thought it'd be better to have you be the last one to leave." Komaeda waves his hand. "You still have two minutes."

"I'm so sorry again!" You cry, grabbing your stuff and waving goodbye to him.

His heart races in his chest, and he presses his face into his palms. Ah. He was hopeless.

The candle above the hallway flutters gently, and Komaeda reaches to put it out. Maybe one day you'd stay behind with him and help him close the library- ah, what kind of a thought was he having? There's no way someone who doesn't work for the library would do that. He's getting hopeless. How could he expect that of a stranger who wasn't even into him?

Komaeda sighs to himself as he puts the last candle out.

Ah, the clock. Komaeda almost forgot.

The arrows of Cupid resemble the strings of fate almost. There's red connecting his fingertip to somewhere, and his heart races, knowing that it might be you. He had always been a little bit of a romantic. Maybe his destined soulmate was you. He knew it wasn't, yet he prayed that somehow it would be. 'It would be romantic,' he thinks, to fall in love with someone who was nothing more than a blurry figure connected to his pinky. 

His cheeks warm at the thought.

A soulmate. How adorable.

Komaeda finds that his skin is growing healthier as the days pass. He's been exercising when Nekomaru requests to return to normal health. The bones under his skin are no longer visible. He takes that as an achievement. That meant he was growing healthier. That also meant that his lymphoma was slowly improving. Maybe he'll be able to drink sweeter teas once spring arrives. Perhaps he could take you out for tea? 

"Achoo!" He sneezes.

Maybe he should focus on getting the leaves out of the way on the pathway first. 

The green and red are raked into a pile, and Komaeda wonders if he'd be allowed to run and jump into it. Maybe he would. He is the one who has to rake all of it, and he's not bad at cleaning. He glances around, checking to see if there's anyone. There isn't. He's jumping. 

He lands on the leaves with a satisfying crunch, and he watches the leaves fly up from his jump. It's pretty. He feels like he's in a fairytale. It was like hd was the main character was dancing in the fields. Well, that's a bit of a stretch. Behind him, he hears a giggle, and he whips his neck. There's no one there, but he does hear the sound of hurried footsteps running away. He hopes that wasn't you. He doesn't know what he'd do if you saw him doing something so silly.

He steps out of the leaves, fixing it with an obvious blush on his face.

If someone looked closely, you could almost see the smoke coming from his ears.

Komaeda fans his face as he steps back into the library, sitting at the front desk to help a couple students. He wonders if working at the library is the best choice he has ever made. He didn't believe Ms. Yukizome when she had suggested for him to work at a library, but now he had met the love of his life. Well. He thinks you're the love of his life. Maybe Cupid had shot him right in the heart as he saw you. Or maybe he was Cupid. Perhaps falling for you was a mistake he made on accident. That makes a little more sense.

Komaeda shoots another superficial smile as someone steps to the side.

"Hello, how can I help-" His throat dries at the sight of you.

"Ah, sorry," You smile, and Komaeda can't help but pray that you're smiling because of him. "I was wondering, since you're the librarian, if you had any book recommendations? I wanted to read something like murder mystery."

"Well," Komaeda collects himself with a cough. "I'd recommend Conan Doyle or Agatha Christie. Have you read And then there were none?"

"Ah, no," You tap your chin. "Which area is that book in?"

"I'll go with you," Komaeda smiles.

"Thank you..." Komaeda notices the pause and squint at his nametag.

"Nagito," He smiles. "Please call me Nagito."

"Thank you, Nagito," Komaeda steps ahead, ears and neck burning. He's hopeless. He's so far down in love with someone he doesn't know the name of. He's gone insane. He can't think straight, nearly missing the section where the book was. He apologizes, reaching to grab the book for you.

"Is that one alright?"

"Yes."

He can't see your face, but he can hear something in your voice. Mirth, perhaps. 

He turns around, muscles tensing at the sight of you almost glued to his back. "Sorry!"

"No, no!" You gasp. "I'm sorry for being so close! I was looking at the other book."

You pull out a romance book from the shelf, and Komaeda flushes. 

"Are you more into slow burns?"

"I like both," Komaeda frowns as you avert your eyes. "Ah, speaking of which. Have you read Growing Pains? I heard it's really good."

Komaeda remembers that one. It was one of the first books he picked up when he entered college. It's still his favorite.

"I have," He smiles. "It's a really good book. Have you?"

"No," Komaeda notices you perk up. "Shall I read it?"

"Yes," Komaeda grabs for it, an action he's done thousands of times. He adored the book. He hopes you'll like it just as much as he does. "How about It's a soulmate thing? You're holding I'm here, so I assumed you might-"

"Yes, please," Komaeda stammers as you nearly moan. "I'm a sucker for soulmate stories."

"I'm glad," He smiles. "and... Seashells and Sketchbooks?"

"Mermaids!" You gasp, and Komaeda brightens at your tone. You're excited. He got a reaction like that out of you. Ah, was he in heaven? "Sorry, I've read that one. I loved it."

"It's good, isn't it? I love it too." He smiles, the pink on his cheeks.

"What's your favorite?" You peer at him curiously, and he swallows slowly. You have... pretty lashes.

"Growing Pains," He mumbles, looking to the side. "It took my heart and crushed it in the best way possible. I can't get over the ending. You?"

"Hands down, it's Sketchbook and Seashells," You mumble. "I'm Here is a close second. Both of them were so gentle and fluffy. I was living in a cloud while reading both of them."

"I'm willing to bet that you'll like Growing Pains more once you finish the book." Komaeda doesn't know where the confidence is stemming from to bet with you, but he doesn't complain. "Hm?"

"Sure," Komaeda's nearly blinded by your smile. You're so pretty. You're so dazzling. Oh, what would he do with his racing heart? "What does the winner get?"

Komaeda reaches for the book in your hand. "We'll decide after you read the book."

All the way until you leave, Komaeda's heart fights his chest. He prays that you can't hear it. He can play the blushing off as the weather, but he can't play off his racing chest as anything else. You're just too pretty. He wants to wrap his arms around you until you grow tired of him. He waves to you until you leave and falls to his knees behind the desk. You're so... so... pretty. He's going insane. His heart is going a million miles a minute. He was really in love with you. He had it so bad.

He waits for you to finish the book, praying that he won. He doesn't know what he would even ask you for if he wins but hopes you like the book an incredible lot... he may have neglected to tell you that the first handful of chapters are angst.

Hopefully the other two books mend your broken heart.

"You," Komaeda jumps at the sight of you slamming the books onto the counter. "I'm going to strangle you alive."

"I take that I won the bet, then?" Komaeda scans the books back into the library system.

"Yes." You sigh. "You won, but I want you to read Lonely Kids."

"Sure," Komaeda smiles. "So, since I won, I want you to read another handful of books."

"Oh?" You tilt your head. 

"Read Stay With Me, Hold my Hand," He smiles. "It's a series."

"Alright." You mumble. "I'll scalp you if it makes me cry."

"It might," He pauses. "It's by the same author as Growing Pains."

"I'm going to cry, then," Komaeda watches you grimace. "It's so beautifully destructive. I love the way they write. The whole world is built around you so beautifully only for it to be torn into shreds."

"Yeah," Nagito smiles. "Though, this one will make you cry harder."

"I'll read it over break," You sigh. "Thank you, by the way. And Then There Were None was a really good story."

"I'm glad." Komaeda hums. "Will you be working here again?"

"Yes," Komaeda watches you rush off.

He hopes you don't cry over "Stay with me, Hold my hand." The series had no redeeming fluff compared to the amount of angst it had. Maybe you'd cry to him about it. He wouldn't mind if you wrapped your pretty fingers around his neck and destroyed him. Maybe he'd thank you. It'd be like in the story. He always felt he kinned the second male lead more than he was supposed to. Second male lead? He's not sure. The series was announced to be discontinued. Maybe you'd bring a possible ending onto the table. 

Komaeda checks in the rest of the books. Maybe you'd talk to him about it.

Komaeda blinks as you hand him a cup of coffee.

"Don't ask. I guessed your order," You mumble quietly. "I just... thought you might want one. Midterms are around the corner."

"Thank... you," Komaeda smiles. His face is on fire. Please don't notice the blush on his face. He's going to cry over it. Just from the smell alone, he knows you got it right. It was the same tea his doctor had been prescribing him lately to keep a cough at bay. He actually likes the tea for one. You're a gift from heaven; he's sure of it. He's about to get on his knees and worship you. Or bark. Maybe you like dogs. He can play one perfectly; after all, it's not like he wasn't-

"Uh, do you like tea?"

"Yes!" Komaeda beams. He can't believe you want to get to know him. "I have a preference for tea that isn't bitter. I can't taste many things because of my medication, you see."

"Medication?" You tilt your head.

"I'm being treated for a couple illnesses." He hums. "Sorry."

"No! Don't be!" You gasp. "I wish you a speedy recovery. Please take care of yourself."

"Of course," He smiles. anything for you.

Komaeda finishes half of the tea before he musters up the courage to help you out. You look stressed. He had seen your textbook a few times and was sure that he absolutely despised the seminar you were taking. He thought it'd be nice, but he guessed not. It wasn't the most pleasant class he had ever attended. If he's right... he should still have the test somewhere in his google drive. Maybe you'd want that?

Komaeda taps your shoulder gently. "Would you like some help? I took that class already."

"Yes, please?" You stare up at him with doe eyes. "I'm losing my mind over the subject."

"Does giving you the test and correct answers count as helping?"

"Yeah," You stare at him, chin tilted to the ceiling. Komaeda's breath catches in his throat. You're pretty. You have lovely eyes. He could get lost in them for hours. "Do you have it?"

"I do," Komaeda smiles. He sits down across from you, pulling his laptop open. He looks through his files and sends the right one to you.

"What's your major?" Komaeda mumbles quietly.

"Designing my own," You whisper back. 

"You're in that college? I thought you'd be in the main one?"

"Easier chance getting into that one," You stare at him, the ghost of a smirk on your face. "I wanted to live here."

"I can see that," Komaeda mumbles back. Ah, were you toying with him? He'll let you do that. After all, you are his blessing. "You suit the city."

"Thank you," You mumble, and Komaeda watches your lashes flutter. You're tired. 

"Would you like to nap?" Komaeda smiles. "I can wake you up when the library closes again."

"Thank you," You mumble, resting your head in your arms. "I owe you."

"Don't be silly," He gets up, pulling his coat off his shoulders. "As a thank you for the tea."

The coat goes over your shoulder, and he goes back to work.

The dust on the books collects a little, and Komaeda cleans it. His heart is lighter today. You don't seem to hate him. That was lovely. You seem to like him. Platonically. He doesn't mind. He'd love it if you were to fall for him slowly. He prayed that Cupid would graze you with an arrow like he was grazed. Even if he were cursed to love you for eternity, he would gladly do so. 

The sun sets, though not visibly, and the clock strikes. It's time to close. Komaeda offers to stay back again, waving goodbye to his coworkers as they leave. If he was last, he'd be able to close up with you. The method might be a little underhanded, but you wouldn't mind, right?

"Closing time," He takes his jacket from your shoulders, and you stir. "We're the last ones."

"Alright," You mumble, rubbing your eyes. "Thank you. It was very warm."

"Of course," Komaeda tosses your empty cup into the trash and heads out. 

The moon kisses your face. Komaeda holds his breath as he notices and can't help but think that you're gorgeous. How lucky was he? To be able to see someone like you under the moon themselves. He swears he'll love you forever. Just as the moon chased the sun and the red on his pinky burned, he would chase after you. Nothing would tear him from you. Not even the cutting of the string.

Komaeda wraps the bandage around his finger. He hurt himself again. He should really stop. His scabs form slower than they're supposed to because of his treatment, yet he can't help it. The papers from the printer are sharp. It really wasn't his fault. Yet, he can't help but wonder if you'll ever treat him. Maybe he should get hurt on purpose just to see your reaction. Ah. No. How could he do that? What a strange thought.

He puts the bandage back, and he stares at his phone. He has his own midterms to worry over.

The tea is warm in his hand as he steps into the library. He didn't like studying at the one he worked at, but he wonders if he'll see you. Maybe he will. He doesn't know your schedule as well as he'd like to. He likes it better with you around. Maybe you'd be willing to read with him.

He finds you huddled on a couch with "Autumn Comes when you're not yet done" in your hands. He purses his lips at the look of betrayal on your face. Are you going to fight him again? Please no. 

He sits down a bit further from you, working on his own homework. He's a little tired from the shift yesterday. Though, you seem to be enjoying the book. You're expressive, so he supposes that you've liked it so far. If you hated it, you would've put it down. Maybe that was the art of the writer. The way you couldn't put down the book no matter how hard you tried. He remembers that feeling.

"I'm going to stab him later omfg," You mumble under your breath, and Komaeda jumps. Did he go too far? As you close the book and finish it with tears in his eyes, he wonders if he should get you something sweet to eat.

Komaeda wonders if you like him some days.

His heart rams against his chest whenever he's around you, and it's somehow gotten worse with time. Would you accept him if he were to ask you out? Maybe you'd recoil out of disgust and never visit the library ever again. He doesn't even know if you have a talent. He had just forgotten completely about it thanks to how gorgeous you looked when he first met you. 

It doesn't matter. His mind is screaming at him to think properly, but he doesn't care. He likes you a lot. He adores you. He wants to press his hands on your skin and kiss you. Ah. How vile of him. He couldn't think something like that. How foul of him.

When you step up to him with a cup of coffee after midterms, his heart catches in his throat as his head spins. You? Spend time with him? What city had to be hit by an asteroid for you to ask him that? Which one of his loved ones just passed because of your words? Oh, you shouldn't fill him up with such hope like this. 

He finds himself accepting anyways. His heart is caught in his throat, a million thoughts a minute. Why would you ask him? Was it something in the books? Did you not like them? No. There's no way that's the case. You showed no signs of disappointment as you asked him to coffee. Was this your way of thanking him? You weren't blushing or dying when you asked him either. How could he ever begin to figure you out? 

As the two of you sit in the coffee shop, he's far too busy with his own thoughts to read you. He prays you won't be able to read him.

Komaeda finds that one date turns into two, and two dates turn into four, by then which he stops counting.

He likes spending time with you. He likes the way his heart breaks his ribs to try and tell you how he feels. He enjoys sitting down and reading with you, again and again, time after time. Komaeda adores you to pieces. He could pick stars and the moon out of the sky if you willed. He would leave all his past behind just to run with him. Yet, he's lonely. He wonders if his younger self would cry at the sight of someone as gentle and loving as you.

It's spring when Komaeda's hair is blown back, and his face is back on display. He watches you stare at him in awe, heart breaking your ribs. He doesn't know that. He's convinced he just scared you off with how ugly he is. His hands move frantically to try and push his hair back in front of his face, and you stop him. Your hands slide up his forehead. You stare at him for a little longer, heart racing in your ears.

"You're pretty," To you, those words might've not meant much, but to Komaeda, he felt the entire foundation of his beliefs shaken. You were just that powerful to him.

Komaeda flushes impossibly redder, his entire body in flames. You hadn't even touched him intimately, and he was already a mess in your hands. He wondered what would happen if you were to touch him. Would he melt? You would probably run away in fear of him. Maybe you'd leave him because of how weak he was. He wouldn't be surprised if you did. He wasn't as strong as his classmates, and he seemed like nothing compared to the others in the school. 

"Nagito," You breathe, staring at the male. Komaeda can hear his heart dying in his chest.

"What?" He stares at you.

"I like you."

Komaeda goes silent, and for a moment, you worry that you've offended him.

Komaeda's throat dries. You like him? Pathetically, disgusting him? The vilest human he had ever seen? The only person to destroy everything around himself until there's nothing more than shards of what reality once was? Komaeda doesn't understand you. You're such a glowing person, yet you choose to help him out in times of need. You stare at him, and he can tell you're getting fidgety.

His mind spirals. You like him? There's no way. You can't like trash like him. He can't let himself have you. You deserve someone better. Yet, who was he to reject you and turn you down? You wanted him of all people. You wanted to get to know him. You like him. You have a crush on him. He's been dreaming of this moment for ages. Surely, it wouldn't be a bad idea to agree to it? His hands grip your shoulders unconsciously, and he heaves.

"Say it again," Komaeda swallows, heart ringing in his ears. "Please. Please say it again."

"I..." Komaeda watches your lips stay open and heart pulse on your neck. "like you. I like you a lot."

Komaeda's speechless. His heart rings in his head now, the blood gushing into his mind. You like him? You like him. Holy mother of mary. You like him. This must be the best day of his life. He must be dying tomorrow. You're in love with him too. He doesn't realize he's gone silent for too long until he notices you're not looking at him anymore. Ah. He scared you. 

His hands are taken off of you apprehensively, sliding to your neck and tilting your chin upward to face him. His breathing is erratic, desperate to not scare you off. You can probably feel his hands shaking against your skin. What should he say? How should he say it? That he's been in love with you for ages? That he wants to worship you until the fall of man? How could he ever begin to tell you how much he adored you?

"Look..." Komaeda swallows slowly, voice shaking. "look at... me."

You open an eye to stare at him. 

"I like you too," Komaeda's voice shakes bad. "I like you a lot too. I'm infatuated with you. It was as though Cupid had grazed my skin with an arrow the first time we met. I adore you to pieces. I can't... I can't think of living without you."

Komaeda watches your eyes widen as he continues rambling, the blush creeping up his neck and driving him insane.

"You like me too?" You grab his wrists, cutting him off. "You do? Oh, tell me you do."

"I do," Komaeda swallows slowly. "I do adore you so much, darling."

Komaeda panics as you start crying. With no thought in his mind, he pushes you into his chest, praying that a hug will offer you some sort of solace. You might be able to hear how bad his heart is beating for you. He hopes you won't mind. Maybe you'll find comfort in his arms like he found comfort in your presence. Would that be nice? It'd be sweet if that were to happen. It would make him most overjoyed.

And you stay there, and Komaeda prays that you'll stay there forever.

For some reason, he knows the answer.

[yelenasdiary]

hello :D can i request kate bishop x vet!reader where kate always bring lucky to the clinic for "check ups" but she really wants to ask r out?? thank you! <33

Lucky's Check-Ups

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Vet! Reader 

Summary: Any excuse to bring Lucky in for a check-up is a good excuse in Kate’s eyes.

Fluff | 1.6K | No Warnings |  

AC: I love, love, LOVE this idea!! This is by far my favourite works I’ve done for Kate. I hope you enjoy it!! 

Walking into the waiting room a smile instantly took over your lips as you saw your regular client, Lucky, waiting for his monthly check up. He wagged his tail excitingly as you approached him and his owner, Kate. “How’s the Lucky boy today?” you greeted you gently patted the golden boy. “He’s good, we’re just here for his cheek ups and nail trimming as usual” Kate smiled as she held tightly onto his lead. “Just give me a second, I’ll grab his file and we can get started” you gave Kate a soft smile before making your way behind the reception to the filing cabinet. 

“Okay boy, this is it! This is the day, I’m gonna do!” Kate whispered to Lucky who tilted his head at her words, “I know I say this every time, but I mean it this time” she adds as if Lucky truly understands her words. “Just do what you do best, be a cutie” she scratched behind his ear before you returned. 

“Come this way” you smiled once more before leading the two down the small hall into an examining room, closing the door gently after them. Kate sat on the provided chair with Lucky sitting at her feet while you glanced at his file. “So, I hope we stopped giving him full serves of pizza?” you cocked a playful brow at Kate. She shyly smiled, “of course, he’s down to 3, 4 if he’s super hungry” she chuckled. You playfully shook your head, chuckling with her. “I’d like to hear that he’s at none but that’s improvement” you dotted down in your notes. 

“We’re trying but pizza is just so good! Isn’t that right lucky!” 

Lucky barked in response. 

“Oh, is that right Lucky?” you cocked your brow at him with a smile, “is there anything you’re concerned about? He’s taking his monthly worming tablets and he’s up to date with his vacations” you looked down at your notes once again. 

“He has an itch but I’m sure it’s not fleas. We keep up with his grooming regularly” 

“Mmm” you hummed before putting his file on the countertop then kneeling to Lucky’s level to give his coat a look over. “How often do you bathe him?” you asked. 

“Once a week” 

“You should only bathe him once every four weeks unless he’s really in need for a bath” you explained with a friendly smile. “Noted” Kate returned the smile, “he’ll like that, he hates bath time” she chuckled. You looked up at her while patting Lucky softly, “I’m sure he does” you said. “Now, let’s have a look at those teeth of yours” you looked to Lucky before gently lifting his lips to check his teeth. 

“Everything is perfect as should be, keep giving him his daily dental chew” you smiled once again before washing your hands in the skin, “now, let’s clip those nails, shall we?”

Lucky wagged his tail causing you to chuckle, “I’ve never known a dog to be excited to have their nails clipped” you commented, grabbing the nail clippers from the drawer. Kate watched in awe as you placed Lucky onto the bench, he instantly laid on his back expecting a belly rub, “after your nails cutie” you cooed at him before clipping his nails with care. 

Kate smiled softly at how gentle and caring you were with Lucky, “he’s such a good boy! You’ve trained him well” you spoke as you continued to clip his nails. “Oh, I found him like that” Kate replied as she brushed a lock of hair out of her face.

“And we’re done! You’re a very good boy Lucky, let me get you a treat” you grabbed the treat jar and gave him a beefy treat and one for his travels. “Don’t tell the boss I gave you two” you winked at him before allowing him off the bench. 

“Thank you so much!” Kate smiled. 

“It’s what I’m here for” you washed your hands once more, “is there anything else I can do for you today? We can book Lucky in for a reclip in a couple of weeks at the reception before you go” 

“Actually” Kate paused as she stood up, “there is one thing” she smiled, her cheeks flustered in red as she brushed down her coat from Lucky’s fur. Lucky looked between the two of you still wagging his tail, “What’s that?” you asked kindly with a smile. Kate froze, Lucky wiggled move closer to her feet, “S-sorry, it must have slipped my mind” her eyes dropped to Lucky, “thank you for today! We’ll be back in a few weeks for his nails again” Kate smiled before quickly hurrying out of the room leaving you slightly confused. 

----

Only a couple of days later did you walk out to the waiting room to see Lucky and Kate again. “Is everything okay?” you asked Kate. “I hope so, uhm, there’s this thing I noticed on Lucky’s leg, and I just wanted to see if you could have a look at it for me? If you have time” Kate replied as her eyes circled the busy room. “Sure, let’s have a look, which leg?” you kneeled down to Lucky, patting him gently as Kate pointed to his front right leg. 

“It’s like a mole or something” Kate added as you moved around Lucky’s fur, you smiled softly when you found what she was talking about, “nothing to worry about, it’s just a skin tag. He’s fine” you stood back up, brushing fur off your knees. “Oh” Kate chuckled, “now I feel stupid for wasting your time” she added. “Don’t be, you have every right to be worried if you think something isn’t right. No question is a stupid question in here” you smiled. 

Kate’s eyes dropped to Lucky once again, leaving you concerned even more. “Kate, is there something else? You seem worried or concerned” you spoke as you took the open seat beside her, “Lucky is in perfect health” you added for comfort. 

“Oh, I know, I just” she paused for a moment, gripping Lucky’s lead tightly, “I worry about him, he’s family” she added. Gently you placed your hand on top of hers and look into her eyes, “Kate, he’s very lucky to have you as his owner. I can assure you that he is healthy and living his best life. You have nothing to worry about yet, he’s still very young” you smiled softly when nodded at your words, “thank you! And again, I am so sorry for wasting your time” she spoke quickly, rushing to stand to her feet. “You didn’t waste my time, Kate, it’s okay” you replied. Before you knew it Kate and Lucky were out the door in a rush, you brushed it off and moved onto the next client. 

----

“Don’t look at me like that, I freaked out! Their hand was touching mine!” Kate looked at Lucky as she sat down on the nearest bench, “Got anything else you need checked over?” she cocked a brow at the pup who only wagged his tail at her words. “Anything would help” she adds but no reply from Lucky just a lick of his lips and a wag of his tail. 

The next day you were working the reception desk while your co-worker took lunch, you greet everybody with a smile and filled out their forms and requests. You weren’t paying much attention to the desk as you looked at the computer screen to make sure all bookings were correct, “just a second” you spoke, eyes never leaving the screen. 

“It’s okay, take your time” the familiar voice caught your attention, you looked up from the screen and smiled, “Kate, what can we do for Lucky today?” 

“Actually, I’m n-not here for Lucky today” Kate spoke nervously, Lucky’s lead in her tight grip. “Oh okay, is everything okay?” you asked, your brows turning into a worried frown. 

“Would you” Kate paused when she looked into your eyes, “I’m sorry…you…you make me nervous” she admits to your surprise. “I do?” you asked. “You do and I like it…I mean, it’s sometimes hard to talk to you because you’re just so chill and beautiful and sometimes I don’t know what to say because I’m scared I’m going to say something stupid and yesterday I just made the exc- “ 

“Kate, slow down. Take deep breath, I can barely understand you” you kindly stopped her from talking a million miles per minute. She took a deep breath and exhaled, “w-would you like to go out for dinner sometime?” she froze as the words left her lips. At first you were a little taken back but then it slowly made sense, the words you couldn’t quite understand. 

“Sure” you smiled, “I’d like that” you replied. 

“I’m s-sorry, what?” Kate looked confused at your answer, you chuckled lightly. “I’d love to go to dinner with you” you repeated. Kate’s cheeks turned rosey, “oh, right, well, great!” she smiled softly, you could tell she was shocked and nervous. “How about tomorrow night?” she asked. 

“Suits me, do you want to just meet here, or I can meet you somewhere?” you suggested. 

“Lucky and I can meet you here when your shift ends if that’s easier, he comes with me everywhere…I hope that’s okay” Kate’s thumb twirled with his lead, “I’d be upset if he didn’t join us. I’ll see you here tomorrow night” you smiled. 

“Great, I’ll be here” Kate returned the smile then turned to walk out the door, your co-worker coming in just as she left. “What was that about?” she’s jumping up and down like a child” she chuckled. You smiled at the image, “She just wanted to re-book Lucky’s nail clipping appointment” you lied. 

Taglist: @red1culous | @bentleywolf29 | @natasha-belova | @kiwiana145  | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz | @mmmmokdok |  @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145  | @valiantmugcowboyscissors | @shin-conan-kun | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @musicinourlips | @apollo2907 | @marvelfan98 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight |

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.xxxvii // Numb

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Sporadic moments of lucidity are marred by intense dizziness, the sense of keeling over with each minuscule movement of his body. His gut instinct recognizes this as the lingering effects of a sedative. Conrad just wishes it hadn’t worn off.

It feels like it just keeps getting worse for every hour that goes by. The shrill note in his ears keeps getting louder and louder, but his eardrums never rupture. He’s sure something in his body will shatter under the tension. As if his heart is a hair’s breadth from failing, or some blood vessel in his brain is about to burst. His chest and armpits and back are all drenched in sweat.

Sometimes the burning spreads from the leg to other areas of his body. It makes no sense as to why it would, but it does. It shoots up into his groin, his pelvis, his abdomen. Up into his lower back, making his whole body spasm and twitch. It’s unignorable, but so exhausting to keep track of, and it never lets up, not even for a moment. It doesn’t matter how he’s lying, if his leg is straight or bent at the knee. It doesn’t matter how hard he clutches his thigh, how many times his cracked nails get caught in the bandages. Trembling violently or winded from exhaustion, shivering with cold or suffocating under the heat of the duvet, crying or gritting his teeth, it makes no difference at all.

Several times, he has to haul his upper body to the side of the bed to retch at the floor, hands gripping the mattress so tight they turn pale. Nothing ever comes of it, but the sick, churning feeling in his stomach always returns. It’s like he has reached a point where each individual system is attempting to reject the pain, to ease it in the only ways they know how. Each time, he sinks weakly back onto the bed, and feels like breaking down in tears all over again.

It’s torture. Nobody is doing anything to him, but he is still being tortured.  

He’s lying on his side, facing the door. His eyes are open the entire time, and he sees the door open, but it’s like his brain skips over certain steps, neglects to solidify chunks of time in his mind. Next thing he knows, Davin is sitting in the chair across from the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hair falling over his shoulders, brushing against his arms. He’s holding something transparent in his hand. A glass.

“Do you think you can swallow a couple pills, hm?”

Conrad buries his face in the mattress. His hands are still clutching his thigh for dear life, as if his leg will sever if he doesn’t. Unsteady, short breaths through his nose. The bedsheets smell like salt.

“It’s morphine,” Davin says. “Strongest thing I have that works for neuropathy.” A pause. “C’mon. Try and sit up for a second.”

It takes a while, but Conrad eventually manages to let go of his leg with one hand, uses it to push himself off the mattress. The muscles of his arm shake with the effort. A wave of vertigo hits him almost immediately, and his head rolls forward. He sits still like that for a moment, eyes closed, trying to even out his breathing, to feel out his own balance. The pain in his leg makes him shudder. A drop of sweat softly creeps down the side of his face.

When he finally opens his eyes and looks up, Davin shows him the pills in his hand. Two small, cobalt blue tablets, each inscribed with tiny letters or numbers, too blurry to make out.

Conrad grits his teeth, and reluctantly holds out a shaking hand. He’s careful not to touch the other directly, but still feels a streak of disgust when the pills roll from Davin’s palm to his own, as if they’re an indirect method of skin-to-skin contact, as if that taints him somehow.

He doesn’t think, doesn’t have the capacity to question it right now. Davin could be feeding him poison, and Conrad honestly wouldn’t care. It can’t possibly get worse than it is. He puts his hand to his mouth, throws his head back. Positions the pills on his tongue as he reaches out for the glass.

“Yeah, no, I’ll hold it. You’re shaking too much.”

Conrad lets out a low whine. The pills are beginning to taste bitter. Shutting his eyes tight, he reaches out again, blindly. Feels the glass brush against his fingers, and follows its movement as it is held up to his lips. He feels the revolt in his gut when Davin puts his other hand on the back of his head for support. Freezes for a moment, mouth closing around the cup, and a bit of water spills from the gap between the lip of the glass and his cheek, dribbling down his chin. A few breaths through his nose are blown back onto his face. The taste of the pills is unpleasantly sharp, biting.

All his focus is required for the mechanical task of sucking water into his mouth. Allowing himself to swallow takes careful effort, with several breaths through his nose in between. He doesn’t get the pills down on the first try, but he does on the second.

As soon as he can’t feel them in his mouth anymore, Conrad turns his head to the side and shrinks backwards, away from Davin’s reach. Again, water is spilled with the abrupt movement, but Davin is quick to right the glass, and he pulls back without comment.

Conrad can recognize the underlying social clause it would be to finish this interaction with some sort of acknowledgement, but he can’t be bothered to show even that shred of respect. He twists his body around completely, and lies down facing the wall, both hands once again wrapping tight around the bandages on his thigh. Focuses on his breathing again, not just as a response to pain, but also to ease away the disgust lingering in the memory of Davin’s touch.

The door goes.

Conrad lets himself cry.

💵

The pills did their work, he supposes. They let him drift off to sleep eventually, which is more than what he could’ve hoped for. The pain is still there, but its noise is significantly dulled, as if it’s underwater. In its place is a comfortable, warm sort of feeling. His vision is slightly blurred, a faint glow surrounding strong sources of light. Every breath is slow and deep. It feels pleasant, like he’s dreaming.

He sits with his shoulder and head leaning against the cold wall, duvet draped over his shoulders, and his fingers run over the skin of his calf, hair giving the illusion of a rough texture under his fingertips.

There’s a border on his leg.

It starts behind his knee, goes down the side of his shin, down past the protruding bones of his ankle, down along the curve his heel and in under the arch of his foot, where the skin is usually so sensitive. You can’t see it. There’s no discoloration, no marks, no bruises. But on one side, Conrad can feel touch, and on the other side – he can’t. Not even in that numb, spinning way his body feels when he’s on the verge of passing out, when he can tell someone or something is moving him, but he can’t distinguish the specifics. When he pinches the skin on the back of his leg, when he scratches it, when he pulls out hairs, when he digs his nails in hard enough to draw blood, the sensation doesn’t register, to the point where his brain half convinces him he must be doing it to somebody else, and not to himself. It's not just on a surface level, either. When Conrad moves his foot up and down, he can’t feel the muscles of his calf contract or relax, can’t feel the tendons and bones shift in one side of his ankle. There’s just nothing there at all.

He tries to distinguish the edges, tries to paint a mental map of it. Rough estimation, he eventually concludes, is that he just lost touch with two fifths of his lower leg.

It should fill him with mourning, but Conrad can’t bring himself to care. Not now, not when he’s safe in his solitude. It was only a matter of time before they did something to wreck his body irreparably. The violence keeps escalating. It’s all predictable, if you take a step back. There is something tediously boring about all of this.

And while the apathetic resignation isn’t unwelcome, he can’t pinpoint exactly where it’s coming from. Maybe it’s the pills. Maybe he’s just tired of being in a constant state of despair. It’s been weeks. All of his fears have been systematically met, time after time after time. Conrad is running out of things to be afraid of.

He still flinches when there’s a knock at the door. His body still tenses up unwillingly, the muscles of his back and shoulders stiffening. But it doesn’t register as fear; instead it feels physically conditioned in him, like the reflex to pull your hand away from an open flame.

Gritting his teeth, he keeps his head bowed, doesn’t move to look at whoever enters the room. It sickens him that he still recognizes Davin by the sound of his footsteps.

“You doing a bit better?”

Conrad doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even move to acknowledge he heard the question.

“It’s been about four hours since your last dose. It’s going to start wearing off soon. If you’re up for taking another, I’ve got it for you.”

A pause.

“I don’t want to have you writhing around in bed again, Conrad. This isn’t some tactic. I’m trying to help you out.”

Conrad swallows. His gaze doesn’t flicker from his calf, although he feels himself half-blink, has to repress the urge to shut his eyes.

Davin lets out a sigh. “If you don’t answer me, I’m just going to l—”

“Did you like it?” Conrad’s throat is so hoarse, every word is uncomfortable to say out loud.

A silence, expanding. The air is thick with it.

Davin takes a deep breath. “I’m not like Renee,” he says. “It wasn’t sadism. I got angry.”

Conrad’s thumb brushes from skin to nothing. He finally turns his head, sees that emptiness so well masked behind a façade of open veracity. It’s so, so hard to spot, even when you know it’s there. Glass in one hand, the other cupped around the pills. The clip of the folding knife in his pocket, always visible. “I don’t think it’s anger if you planned it,” Conrad says dryly, barely louder than a whisper.

Davin cocks his head to the side, and a soft smile creeps on his face. His eyes search Conrad’s expression, genuinely curious. “What do you think it was, then?”

Conrad swallows. Feels the muscles of his jaw working. Licks his lips. “I don’t f-fucking care.”

The smile on Davin’s lips widens another fraction, and he raises a brow, snorting. Looks down. “Fair enough.”

He takes a casual step closer to the edge of the bed, and with the hand cupping the pills, waves his index finger.

Reluctantly, Conrad holds out his hand.

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