#These 4 nutrients in the kitchen

[artisanalpeanutbutter]

Trying to build muscle is so frustrating bc it's hard enough to motivate myself to eat as it is but now I have to eat more protein and my stomach is too liddol for the amount of food I need in a day

Can I get an f in the chat?

[dark-fics-4-you]

Thinking about dark overprotective Rafe Cameron with pregnant clumsy reader 🥹💕

Love Plus One

A/N: i hope this lives up to your fantasies 😉

Warnings: noncon/forced sex, coercion, smut, forced pregnancy (but reader doesn’t know), pregnant sex, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, choking, slut shaming, slapping, controlling behavior, threats of violence, reader has some negative thoughts about her pregnant body

After the first time that you slipped in the shower without Rafe there to catch you, despite that fact that you had easily caught yourself before falling, Rafe had made you promise to not take any more showers without him. “If I had been there, you probably wouldn’t have slipped in the first place,” he grumbled.

Rafe suddenly became very involved in prepping and cooking meals for you. He gave you plenty of options, planning weekly menus for you and shopping accordingly, all to make sure that both you, and his baby, were getting all of the nutrients you needed. Rafe always did love your cooking, but now he chose to cook for you practically every night. “You shouldn’t have to be running around the kitchen when you’re pregnant, baby.”

You noticed one day that there was a location tracking app on your phone that you hadn’t downloaded, when you angrily asked Rafe about it, the look of worry on his face almost made you want to cry, “I just get anxious when you’re out sweetheart. The world is full of men that would love nothing more than to hurt you, and I did that to make sure you were staying safe, Y/N.” His eyes flicked between your eyes and your growing belly, which was now beginning to show much more. After that you apologized to him for getting mad about it, giving him a big hug.

Rafe would want to spend all of his time with you, which you found cute at first, but after a while, you started to feel a bit suffocated by him. Your boyfriend was so concerned about “keeping you safe” that he would barely allow you to leave your shared house.

Even walking around the neighborhood or, god forbid, running, was completely off limits.

You knew that it was because you were clumsy, he was right. You always had been, but now was not the time for being accident prone. Not when you had Rafe Cameron’s child growing inside of you.

However, you did feel like at times he could be overprotective of you. Even demeaning occasionally. Like he didn’t trust you to make your own decisions.

When you drove to the store at just 4 months pregnant, Rafe called you 5 times before you finally picked up. You had just wanted to get out of the house for a bit and enjoy the spring air while getting some chores done, but when you returned home one would have thought that you had been skiing on Mount Everest, given Rafe’s reaction. “Why would you leave without telling me? I would have gone to the store for you, Y/N! You shouldn’t have even been carrying those bags by yourself!” Pointing out how little you had actually ended up purchasing, just two plastic bags worth of things, was pointless. “You could have fallen or-or some guy could have kidnapped you!” He huffed, and you could feel the list of locations you could go alone, or even with Rafe, dwindling down to only one place, your apartment.

Rafe had always been incredibly touchy with you, one of the reasons you had gotten pregnant with his baby in the first place. It’s not that you didn’t want kids, you had just always imagined that it would have been different, you would be older and married, and living in a 2 story house with your husband of several years.

Instead, here you were, still in your early 20s, pregnant with your boyfriend of 3 years’ child. You loved Rafe and could see yourself marrying him one day, but you were both still so young! Getting pregnant this early had never been in the plans.

Despite using birth control and condoms, you had somehow gotten pregnant, a fact that took you a while to accept, and after Rafe urged you to not get an abortion, you begrudgingly accepted that you were going to be a mother a couple years sooner than expected.

Of course, you had no idea that this was no accident at all. Rafe had been swapping out your birth control pills for placebos and poking holes in every condom he put on. Of course one of his favorite things about you being pregnant was that he could finally fuck you raw now.

Pregnancy hormones had definitely upped your libido at the beginning of your pregnancy, a fact that thrilled Rafe. He had never felt so desired by you, and he was more than happy to oblige with all of your requests.

Anytime you were feeling under the weather or upset about something, Rafe would coax you into bed and eat you out for what felt like hours. He loved your changing body so much, always kissing and sucking on your full, sensitive breasts and rubbing your growing tummy. The blond would slowly delve between your plush thighs, gingerly kissing and nipping at your soft skin before turning his attention to your already slick pussy, eagerly lapping up your juices and teasing your clit.

Rafe loved to satisfy you, but he also loved to draw it out as long as possible, keeping you on the brink of coming for ten minutes before finally giving in to your begging whimpers. He loved the feeling of you coming on his tongue, the way you tasted and how you squirmed in his grasp, tears forming in your eyes when you whined that it was too much for you.

You would come again just from him teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along your messy slit and tapping it against your already tender clit.

When he pushed all of himself inside of you, you hissed in a wonderful mix of pleasure and pain, wrapping your legs around his waist and digging your nails into his broad shoulders.

Rafe loved watching your face as he fucked you, the way your eyes would unfocus as you looked up at him, your plump lips separating and the beautiful sound of your moans and whimpers was almost enough to make him bury his load in you immediately, but the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his cock was a sensation he didn’t want to give up just yet.

He plunged himself into your dripping pussy over and over again, filling you up in a way that made your eyes squeeze shut, toes curling as you clung to him.

After you came a third time, tensing around him and crying as you mindlessly babbled through whimpers, Rafe’s large hand covered your mouth, and the doe eyes you gave him as he frantically rutted into you made him spill all of his warm cum into your soaked cunt.

Every time he pulled out of you, he would reach for your sensitive pussy, spreading your lips and watching his cum begin to drip out of you before pushing it deeper inside your pussy with two fingers. God he wished he could get you pregnant again while you were already pregnant. Just one kid wasn’t enough for Rafe Cameron, and unbeknownst to you, he had plans for the two of you to have a large family.

Gradually, as your body changed, so did your sex drive. Rafe showered you with compliments as always, reminding you constantly how much he loved your body and the way it looked now, which made you a bit torn. Personally, you felt you were now less desirable, and it made you much more reluctant to give in to his high demands.

Rafe respected your boundaries at first, although he never failed to complain about his needs not being met, and even though you were sure of your decisions, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you couldn’t satisfy him sexually every night.

After a full week of you denying him, Rafe was fed up with your ‘no’s’

“Maybe we shouldn’t have sex tonight Rafe,” you nervously stammered. “I’m just not feeling the best about my body right now.”

“So let me make you feel good baby,” Rafe purred in your ear, sensually rubbing your thighs, which you were squeezing together.

You still didn’t feel up to having sex tonight, and you told your boyfriend as much, but it was like he wasn’t listening to you.

His fingers creeped down your thighs, his strong arms slowly pried your legs apart and you flinched when he began rubbing you over the fabric of your shorts.

“Rafe, please.” You begged with him, anxiety building in your chest when he still didn’t stop.

“Please what?” He mocked you, slipping his fingers past your panties and teasing your clit. You squirmed in his grasp, a sick feeling settling in your gut when you realized Rafe was determined to get what he wanted.

When you tried to push his hand away, the other flew out, slapping you across the face, hard enough to shock you without leaving a mark.

“Stop fucking moving!” He shouted at you and you could feel tears welling behind your eyes. “You’re gonna hurt our baby.”

You tried to tell him that you didn’t want to have to fight off your boyfriend of 3 years, that you were only resisting in the first place because he hadn’t respected your ‘no,’ but when Rafe pushed all of himself inside of you with one thrust, your mind went blank and you froze beneath him.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, arms shaking slightly as he basked in the feeling of your unprepared cunt squeezing his cock. “I swear to god, you’ve only gotten tighter, baby. Y’feel so good.”

Hot tears were streaming down your cheeks, from both physical discomfort and distress at what your boyfriend was doing to you, the way he was violating you.

Every stroke of his cock was agonizing, and even after your body had adjusted and it began to feel good, the fact that you hadn’t wanted this at all tainted the entire experience. You felt ashamed by the delicious way his cock stretched you out and how your body reacted to his touch.

You had given up fighting back altogether, Rafe’s thinly veiled threat echoing in your ears every time you wanted to push him off of you, although his hands had yours gripped so tight, there was no chance you could have gotten away.

You were scared because Rafe was hurting you, but you were even more terrified at the thought of him hurting your baby.

When your release hit you unexpectedly, you felt utterly betrayed by your body. Your tear choked whimpers filled the room as you came around him, accompanied by the lewd sounds of Rafe plunging his cock into you repeatedly.

Rafe sneered down at you as he snapped his hips against yours, “I thought you didn’t want this, hm? So reluctant until I stuff my cock in you and then you can’t get enough.”

His words made your face burn with shame, and your stomach flipped in disgust at both him and yourself.

When his free hand wrapped around your throat, your eyes widened and you jerked against his touch, but his hold on you was unwavering and unforgiving.

“I’m not gonna let you walk all over me just because you’re pregnant.” Rafe seethed, his pace picking up as he chased his release. “You’ve got my kid growing inside you. Just means you belong to me now even more than you did before.”

His fingers tightened around your throat as he came, choking you so hard your vision started to grow fuzzy and black around the edges. The feeling of his sticky cum coating your walls made you want to throw up.

Rafe pulled out and you realized he was talking to you, but you couldn’t hear anything he said, you just nodded numbly, trying to come back to reality as your ears rang and his muffled voice filled the tense air that was permeating the room.

“-maybe now you’ll actually fucking listen to me,” he rambled on, and as you nervously laid in bed beside him, trying to doze off and forget everything that he had just done to you, you realized you were utterly terrified of your boyfriend.

[httpsghostie]

just a little blurb bc it's my bday today and this is my gift 4 u

masterlist

warnings: none!

roommate!ghost, who'd feed himself only to stay alive. having some tea and a cigarette for breakfast, only eating because his body needs a few nutrients to keep functioning.

ghost, who sobbed quietly in the shower on the saturday you made lasagna for him, because he wasn't used to people being so nice.

ghost, who ate so much and so fast because in his mind that was probably going to be his last good meal before he was gone, so he had to enjoy every bite, every second of it.

ghost, who left the bathroom without his mask and unexpectedly pulled you to a hug in the middle of the kitchen, burying his nose on your neck and trying to memorize the scent of your skin.

ghost, who melted when your hands caressed his damp hair and freshly shaven cheeks.

and ghost, who finally had the courage to kiss you passionately after all this time, his heart exploding when you kissed back, your fingers twirling locks of his hair.

[your-highnessmarvel]

Cantankerous

AN: So some of yall ( namely @jana-jaeynneee @delicateblues @blondegirlie )requested a part two to THIS and I mean, I must oblige the populace. So here's another brain rot of Billy Butcher.

This can be read as a sequel to THIS or as a oneshot either way. Y'all ready for some more madness?

WARNINGS: SMUT SMUT SMUT, breath play, kink size, age-gap if you squint.

MINORS DNI BELOW THE CUT

The safehouse was so quiet you could've heard a mouse walk the entire length of the kitchen. But no one was here. It was just you and the silence and the loudly walking mouse that was meandering across the makeshift living room. Oh and Butcher - Billy - whatever. But he was snoring like a cow in heat on the couch, the tiny TV droning and casting a greyish blue glow onto his sleeping features.

When you'd found him there, you'd almost padded back to your little corner and called it a night. But a growl in your tummy made you ache for something to nibble on. And now that the team was basically under government watch and the FBI's Most Wanted list, it's not like Frenchie was stocking the fridge with nutrient dense foods.

It was mostly bread, peanut butter, bananas or avocados (depending on which ones came on special first), and a few cold cuts he could swipe.

But this time, as you pulled the mini fridge open, you wanted to smack Frenchie on the shaved side of his idiot head. There was nothing but one darkening banana and a Doctor Pepper in there.

"Stupid," you mumbled, grasping onto the banana.

"You should have your head checked out, hun."

You rolled your eyes, groaning inwardly as you turned to the man sitting up on the couch like a revenant. He turned his head, snuggled his chin onto the back of the couch, and pouted at you.

"Why?" you asked, closing the fridge door with a bang.

He lifted one dark brow. "Because you're over there calling a 'fridgerator stupid."

You leaned back against the counter and crossed your ankles. "Who says I called the fridge stupid?"

He shrugged. "Who knows why you women do them things that you do." And just as you were about to tell him where he could shove his opinion, he sighed and asked, "Fancy a midnight nibble, yeah?"

You recoiled, swallowing your retort before showing him the banana from across the room. "There's only one thing left to eat before God knows when."

He made a face, more like a grimace, somewhere between pain and resolution. "Have it," he said, waving you away.

Ever since that night at the Seducer's mansion, it's like everything had changed for you while not the slightest thing had shifted for Butcher - Billy.

It's like he hadn't culled two orgasms from you.

It's like he hadn't told you those things that were absolutely not lies.

He'd barely talked to you since, waltzing into the next month as if you were just a decoration hung on the wall that you caught him looking at once in a while, but otherwise, he resorted to silence with you.

He never asked you anything. He never answered your questions. Even when it was just the two of you at the safehouse, like tonight, he'd knock out on the couch after a few beers and lull you to sleep with the sound of his snoring.

This was the first time in 4 weeks he'd spoken a direct word at you.

"I could split it," you said, gesturing to the banana.

He shook his head, raked a hand over the left side of his face. "Did I ever tell you my series of fun facts?" he asked, looking at the TV so all you could see was the back of his head.

You'd heard him have a shower an hour ago, cursing at the cold water and the lack of proper space for his abnormally large body.

Whenever the boys took a shower, in that cramped, open space beside the kitchen, you made it your mission to count how many cracks there were in the wall. Aside from the safehouse having no proper bathroom utilities, the "shower" had no curtain. It was just a shower head off the wall with a handle to open it.

So when you'd heard the shower head squeal to life an hour ago, you'd turned in your little cot and pretended that you weren't jealous of that water. Of the droplets running between his pecks, gliding down his tummy, running along the small hairs on his arms. Of the water that caressed the planes of his face, that rushed into his hair, that tumbled along the hard ridges of his back.

It had been insanely hard not to get lost in those thoughts. You were trying to forget Billy Butcher, to classify him as your leader instead of as the recipient of your antiquated school-girl crush. You knew Billy didn't think that way of you, you were certain. All those things that he told you while he'd been two knuckles deep in your cunt, even if they weren't lies, had to have been in the heat of the moment.

You thought better of Billy Butcher--higher. There was no way a man of his age, his experience, would be as cliché as to want to fuck his twenty-something coworker.

"Your series of fun facts?" you asked back, throwing those thoughts back into your head, in a drawer so deep, locked away, so forgotten you'd never risk finding it again.

He snorted. "Sounds nerdy, I know, you'll love it." He patted the side of the couch next to him, a dull invitation.

Truth is, even if you had tried to ignore him as well, a part of you had missed being close to him. He was a genuinely nice and funny human being, when he wasn't chopping arms off or punching people in the head.

Sometimes, when it was just the two of you - well, before the whole Seducer incident - he could be wholeheartedly nice to you. He'd made you a sandwich once when a pad fell out of your toiletries bag and he so eloquently yelled to everyone in the room that you were on the rag. He'd cut your hair--surprisingly well--when you had the remains of the mailman's brains gathered in chunks in your hair.

So that pat on the couch was like an old reminder of the relationship you'd had with him before...well before everything.

You padded towards him, bare feet on the cold cement. He looked at you over his shoulder, taking in the long pajama pants, the long t-shirt.

When you sat dow beside him, sinking into the couch, you took a glance at him. He was still dressed in his black jeans but he'd switched his open blouse for a long-sleeve black sweater that hugged onto his shoulders like a glove.

"They say," he started, smiling, raising a finger as if he was in deep thought. "That the same bacteria found in yogurt can be found in a blue whale's vagina."

You glazed your eyes. "I don't know why I expected anything less," you groaned.

He chuckled. "Get this, right," he continued, shuffling on the couch to get more comfortable. "Crocodiles mate by like twisting 'round each other, like some sort of licorice, and then the male uncovers his hidden penis like a gun and shoots up the female."

You leaned your head back onto the couch and groaned again. "Are these fun facts going to serve me in real life?"

He leaned forward, as if to tell you a juicy secret, his weight dipping the couch so your shoulder slid an inch closer to him. "Sometimes, male elephants use their giant dicks as a fifth leg."

That made you smile and burst into giggles. "Why would that be of any service to them at all?" you chuckled, raising your head to meet his eyes.

He shrugged, grimaced at you. "Maybe they can run faster," he offered.

"Doubt it."

"Oi, maybe they use it as a weapon of some sorts."

"What, like a sword?"

"Dunno, I'm not the one with a giant fifth leg."

You started laughing, a real laugh that tore at your gut and made you throw your head back. Of everything Butcher was, he was a walking comedian. Sure, it enclosed a multitude of unhealed trauma, but the things he could pull out of his magic hat could be the difference between a dreadful nightmare or a peaceful sleep. And that's always something you'd appreciated from him.

"I wanna ask you somethin', little Truthteller," he asked, suddenly somber, as if the lights in his head had dimmed all at once.

The little nickname, the pet name, drew the breath from your lungs and swiped the smile off your face, bringing you back the that box beneath the floor. The enclosed space where it was just you and him, and you and his breathing, his kisses, his caresses.

The grip you had on the banana tightened.

"First of all," he sighed, cocking his head to look at you. "Are you going to eat that fucking banana or keep teasing me?"

"Here!" you said, smiling, handing him the fruit. "I said take it if you're hungry."

He swiped it from you, grazing his fingers against your knuckles. "Thanks," he mumbled, peeling it and wolfing it down in three bites.

Well, you thought. There goes my midnight snack.

"Are you..." he trailed off, swallowing the last of his banana before dumping the peel on the coffee table. "Are you angry with me or something or the other?"

You frowned, taken aback. If anything, you'd thought he was mad at you for something or the other.

"Don't tell me you're that boomer who assumes every woman is mad at something," you grumbled, crossing your arms.

His eyes dipped to your chest for a fraction of a second, so quickly that you'd have missed it had you blinked. The action of crossing your arms had pushed your breasts together, making it obvious that you weren't wearing a bra.

Something dark and slow, like molasses, stirred in your belly.

"First thing's first, young lady, I'm not a boomer," he corrected, grabbing your wrist, "and secondly, please don't push up those pretty tits in my face unless you're willing to suffer the consequences," and he dropped your arm.

You gulped, feeling heat spread deep in your belly, across your chest, and into your head.

Your heartbeat picked up, like a tiny little drummer boy was kicking to life inside you.

He leaned back, dropping your wrist like nothing happened, and you hated him for it.

"I'm not angry," you answered decidedly. "I'm just... I just don't know how to behave around you."

He huffed, then turned to you and waved you over, making his chest appear like the most comfortable pillow.

You swallowed.

"Come on," he guffawed, gesturing to you again. "I want to tell you somethin' and I'm afraid that cunt Frenchie bugged up this dump."

You blinked, feeling the heat crawl up your cheeks like slow melting butter. But then you found yourself moving forward, crawling and closing the small space between the both of you until you were kneeling beside him.

He laughed silently, the dimples in his cheeks creasing. From up close, you could see the lines beside his eyes, the deep green of his irises, the way his black hair curled at the tip slightly.

He watched you watching him, following your gaze. You'd never seen each other this close before. The last time you'd been close enough to feel his breath on your cheeks, it had been pitch black.

"If you're refferin' to the last time we went on a mission alone," he said, his voice a few octaves lower, graver, raspier--as if he was straining against himself. "I'm not angry."

You nodded, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You felt his finger press under your chin, dragging your eyes back to his. They were kind, downturned as if he was concerned. "I didn't mean to force you into anythin'," he murmured, watching as you opened your mouth.

"You didn't," you answered quickly. "It was hurting so bad," you continued, pressing your hands together, held like a prayer against your thighs. "I think I would've died without you."

He smiled, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip, like he'd done under the floor.

"Come," he instructed, grabbing you by the biceps and hauling you over his lap, so your bum was pressed right on his crotch, your shoulder nuzzled against his chest. Even sitting, he was so much bigger and taller than you, that you felt like a tiny rock in his hand.

He was so warm, smelling of something woodsy, something smokey--a scent so unique to him it made the volley of butterflies in your tummy take flight across your chest.

He pressed a big, warm hand against one of your thighs and flattened your knees, his breath hitching over your head. Your heart hammered, a deep throb against your throat.

"Did you like it?" he asked slowly, pressing deep circles into the inside of your left thigh.

You pressed your lips together, feeling his other hand cradle you against his chest. "It was..." you swallowed thickly.

He pinched the sensitive skin that he was caressing, the ache swarming your head, even through the layer of your pajama pants. "Don't be embarrassed," he cooed, leaning his nose against your temple.

"Butcher, I-"

"Billy," he interrupted, grabbing your chin and lifting your head up to meet your gaze. You gasped, meeting his eyes with a sweet-sour feeling in your belly. "Love, it's always Billy for you." He looked at your mouth, trailing his finger down the column of your throat before lacing his fingers around your neck like a pretty little necklace.

"You look so tiny like this," he mumbled and you felt him then, hard and warm against your bum, before he leaned over and ravaged your mouth, kissing you like you were the imaginary oasis in a desert and he was a man parched dry.

He groaned against your mouth, grasping at your throat like a lifeline, pressing until air was taken from you and you keened against him, both of your hands reaching for his arm, digging into the chiseled skin.

"Billy," you said, breathless, your lips bruised from his kisses, his teeth nipping at your mouth like a predator.

"Yes, love?" he mumbled, out of his mind, his fingers closing around your neck like a noose until you choked against his mouth. He swallowed your sounds, groaning against you. "Can't breathe?" he mocked, loosening his fingers ever so slightly and giving you just a sliver of air to suck onto as you closed your eyes. The blood rushed out of your head and back into your body, pounding in your chest, sliding slowly down your tummy and settling into your cunt like a heavy, hard drum beat.

"Billy, I'm-"

He cut you off with a kiss, squeezing your neck, letting you choke against his mouth until he gave you a few licks of air. He enjoyed toying with you and you let him, sucking onto the air he gave you, kissing him, feeling as lightheaded as a balloon.

When your lips were red and swollen, your eyes glazed, and your breath hard and fast, he finally took his hands from your neck, kissing your cheeks and your eyelids. "You did so good f'me," he panted, lazily tracing circles on your neck, watching as you heaved in breath after breath.

Somewhere, you knew your panties were slick.

He kissed your temple. "Breathing when I allow you," he groaned, kissing your cheek. "And now look at ya, pretty head empty, eh?" You knew he was taunting you but all you could do was focus on your breathing, getting as much air in as to not pass out on his lap.

"I'm so...tired," you moaned, reaching up to kiss him, but he grabbed onto your face, dwarfing your head in his big hands, and smiled down at your sleepy little eyes.

"But I've got you right where I want you," he cooed, kissing your other cheek. "Get on your knees for me, yeah?" he whispered, and you would do anything for him in that moment, light-headed, dazed, panties wet, soaked as you fell to your knees before him.

You looked up at him from between his spread thighs. "God," he groaned, pressing his thumb to your fat bottom lip. "Look at you."

You swallowed hard when he unbuttoned his jeans, his eyes like magnets to your every movement. He took himself out of his pants, root and stem, groaning and leaning forward to caress your cheek, his eyes serious all of a sudden. "Take your time, little Truthteller, I want to see every second of this."

You looked up at him, brows upturned, nodding. As he leaned back, you got a good look at him; he was big, just like the rest of him, angry red tip leaking precum already.

Your empty little head just wanted to please him, like he'd done to you beneath the floorboards of the Seducer's mansion, but a nervousness kicked at your belly.

Hesitantly, you scooted closer, wrapping your hand around his length, the skin scorching hot, listening to him sigh and melt into the couch.

You leaned forward, giving his tip little kitten licks until you pressed the entire tip of him against your warm tongue, wrapping your lips around him.

"Fuck," he whispered, one hand gathering your hair, lifting it away from your face so he could see you. "I'm not going to last long, little Truthteller."

You wondered, somewhere where your mind wasn't so empty, if he'd been holding out for you, keeping himself from jerking off because he wanted to do it with you. If he'd been thinking of it for so long that just the warmth and wetness of your tongue was enough to rip him asunder.

You took him passed your lips, wetting him with your tongue, then bobbing back up to suckle on his tip until you'd wet him enough to start a slow rhythm.

He helped you speed things up to his desired rhythm by pulling and pushing slightly on your hair. You used one hand for the rest of him you couldn't take and the other on the inside of his jean-clad leg for support.

"God, you feel so fuckin' good, love," he slurred, his accent even thicker as you sucked him, wet him with your tongue, hollowing in your cheeks to treat him like your own little popsicle. "You can take a bit more love," he cooed, pulling on your hair, sliding himself out of your mouth with a wet pop.

You gasped, swallowing thickly, watching him watch you with hungry, deep eyes. At your slick red lips and your heaving chest and the way your eyes were still glazed over.

He leaned him, pressing a hard kiss to your mouth, his free hand caressing your warm cheek. "Yeah, a bit more?" he taunted, kissing and kissing and kissing you until you were drunk on his lips.

He leaned back and you leaned with him, taking him into your mouth again, feeling that sweet-sour wave wash in your belly when he groaned out your name.

You pressed him further in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut, bobbing him into your mouth further and further until your air supply was cut and you gagged on him slightly. Embarrassed, you slipped him out of your mouth, covering your lips as you breathed in much-needed air.

He smiled, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss on your cheek. "Too big for you, love?" he murmured, his voice laced with thick desire, watching your watery eyes widen. He was merciless. He was enjoying the taunt. He was enjoying the way you were so pliable to his demands. "Go slower, yeah, relax your throat." He mumbled those words against your cheek, inhaling you, before returning to his leaned-back position.

You swallowed determinedly, taking him into your mouth again, the hand in your hair squeezing as you started to bob your head again.

"Right there," he encouraged.

You did as he directed, slowly easing down on him, wetting him, sliding him against your tongue and relaxing your throat until the tip of his cock slid in there easily.

"Yes, right there, little Truthteller," he whispered.

Your eyes watered but you kept going, spurred by his praises until you had him almost all the way in your mouth. You kept sliding him in and out, as far as you could, feeling his tip slide down your throat further and further each time you slid your head back down.

"That's a good girl," he continued, breathless, voice lost. "Further, yeah, baby?" You knew he was spurred on by the moment so you tried, gulping him all down until your eyes blurred with tears and your throat spasmed around him. He squeezed your hair, groaning, holding you there until he was cumming inside your mouth, grunting, his hips spasming up, as if to fuck your mouth.

You slid him out slow, swallowing his release, breathing in deeply, wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

When you looked up, he was panting, head slanted back on the couch, chest heaving.

"Gods, little Truthteller," he groaned, leaning forward to wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes with his thumb. "You did so, so good for me, yeah?"

He kissed your numb lips, caressing your cheeks, pulling you back up on the couch. He tucked himself back into his jeans before bringing you close to him, snuggling your empty little dumb head against his chest.

You were cradled in his arms like a baby and when you looked up, you saw how sated he was, content and happy. He pet your hair, soothed the back of his knuckles on your cheek.

Then he smiled and leaned in, whispered in your ear, "Mine."

[bigwishes]

Big Man on Campus

(a trade with @alphajocklover)

Trent had been going to college for almost 4 years at this point, he was 21 and steadily approaching his 22nd birthday and approaching his graduation even faster. He had spent most of his time inside, working on his computer engineering degree or gaming. He didn't really care for the college party scene, he'd much rather stay in his tidy little single all weekend until monday classes.

but when it finally sank in how close it was to being over Trent couldn't help but have a little bit of regret, should he have hit the gym with the other guys on his floor? should he have joined the casual rowing team just for some fun and exercise? was computer science really what he wanted a degree in? Senior doubt and regret flooded his mind, but there was still an upside. 4 months were left, 4 months he'd make the most of.

Trent went on the college forums looking for something to do, he thought about a few of the options but found two that he really liked. The first was a dungeons and dragons club the second was listen as an exercise club but it also seemed to be a project for two sport science students.

Transformation Experiment Ground: "Our names are Brody and Clark, we are looking for young males on campus who are out of shape looking to get in shape and help with our experiment. Come form a sense of community, get the body you desire and help us with our research!" Monday came and classes went. Normally Trent would go home and smash out a few ours gaming but it was time for his clubs to start. First he had the sport experiment thing, the only issue was he only had a few minutes to get to the dnd club across campus, but he wasn't sure how sweaty he'd get or if he'd need a shower. He just had to hope there was a shower at the campus gym.

Trent checked his phone, he thought he was going to the campus gym but the address was for a room in the athlete scholarship dorms. Trent walked passed the gym and into the building next to it. The halls had photos of previous college athletes plastered up between the doors.

Finally he arrived, right on time, room 223. Trent raised his hand to knock when the door suddenly swung open. Standing before him was a jacked guy with spiked blonde hair in a black tank and grey sweat pants and standing next to him just slightly down the hall was an equally jacked dude with shaggy brown hair in the same outfit.

"hey bro what's up I'm Brody and just over there is Clark"

Brody stuck out his hand but when Trent went to shake it he realised Brody was waiting for a fist bump not a hand shake, Trent awkwardly closed up his hand and bumped Brody's fist. Clark let out a douchey laugh that echoed out the door.

"Come in man, come in"

"You are, the only one comin" Clark sighed

"oh, was I the only one who signed up?"

Trent started to get anxious, guys who looked like this normally bullied him and now he was going to be on his own with them for an hour. Trent made his way into the room, following Brody and Clark.

The athlete dorms were so much bigger than the other rooms he'd been in. There was a large lounge space with a small kitchen, a door to a private bathroom and two bedrooms either side of the lounge.

In the corner of the lounge there was a small fold out chair and table. On the table were 5 green vials and what looked to be an oculus rift stripped down to its basic components.

"so ummm, where do we start with like a workout plan?"

"nah dude, I mean I can totally write you one but this is a bit more of a series of practice experiments" Brody said as he walked over to the small table

"get him hooked up man, I'm gonna grab my laptop with the video"

Trent followed Brody over to the small fold out chair

"its nothing too fancy but our class mates got the actual sports lab, apparently our experiment is pseudo-science"

"what exactly are you guys studying?"

"we are trying to see if active suggestion and nutrients redirection can get people to actively pursue fitness"

"oh damn, I just thought this was like, a workout class" Trent sat down as Brody began setting up the make shift visor. "if you don't mind me asking, what are you guys majoring in?"

"well I'm getting a double major in bio-chemistry and psychology"

"and I'm getting a double major in computer engineering and software development" Clark said as he walked back in carrying an open laptop

Trent's jaw almost dropped to the floor, he'd come here thinking he was going to be made to workout by two dumb jocks who were just going to scribble times on a napkin, but instead he's participating in a proper experiment designed by two people probably leagues smarter than him.

"okay man its real easy, we are gonna hook up an image display for a few minutes and you'll take a shot of this" Clark said as he handed over one of the small green vials.

"errrr, is it safe?"

Clark burst out laughing and Brody couldn't help but crack a smile.

"yeah man, its just a diet supplement you can get offline, fda approved, basically it tells your muscles they want to hold water and your fat cells to burn"

Trent downed the green liquid as Clark flicked the visor down over his eyes. There was a short beep sound before images began to flash on the visor. Flashes of guys working out, of dumbbells and the words you are a jock and you love working out and muscle.

Trent couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry guys this is so corny" He laughed.

The other two began to chuckle as well as the room filled with laughter.

"Look dude, Its the closest thing I could find on YouTube, its about the suggestions" Clark laughed

Suddenly the lights in the room began to flicker and all 3 globes in the lounge burnt out at once.

"what the-" Brody and Clark said in unison, but they were interrupted when sparks began to fly off the oculus. They rushed to try and take it off Trent but were shocked by the electricity. Sparks shout out of the power point in the wall and the two boys watched helplessly as Trent began to convulse in his seat.

Trent let out a painful and stalled out moan as the electricity travelled over the oculus and shocked his temples.

The room was dark was illuminated every few seconds by a shock or spark and the two boys could swear they could see something, something happening to Trent's body. A few more seconds passed before it finally stopped.

Brody and Clark stood there stunned, the sound of beeping could be heard from the kitchen as the oven entered safety mode, but a more concerning noise echoed in the boys ears. The sound of sizzling. Clark carefully walked over to the curtains and opened them, the room filling with light and showing them what had happened to Trent.

He sat in the chair with his head slumped forward, his chin hitting his chest as smoke was rising off the device on his head and all over his body. But what the two saw in the dark wasn't a trick of the light, Trent had indeed gotten bigger. His skinny fat body had expanded, he'd become more lean, his muscles more pronounced and most of the fat on his body had melted away.

Trent let out a moan as a string of drool fell from his mouth

"OH THANK FUCK HE'S ALIVE" Clark cried out with a sigh of relief.

The two rushed over and pulled the device off his head. Trent's eyes instantly responded as he looked up at the two of them.

"wooahh bro, huhu, that was intence" Trent mumbled

"yeah, thank god you're okay" said Brody.

Trent lifted his arm to the side and flexed his bicep and let out a dumb chuckle.

"errr, dude, real quick, what's your name?"

"Trent, duuuhuhuhu, you fuckin forgetful bro?"

Trent seemed okay but something was wrong, even with the short interaction the three of them had, Clark and Brody knew something had happened to him.

"hey Trent, what are you" Brody asked

Trent smirked as he lifted his other arm, completing a double bicep pose.

"a jock, duuuhuhuhu"

Trent stood up and effortlessly pushed passed the two as he started heading towards the door.

"well at least we know his motor functions weren't damaged"

Clark and Brody quickly followed him

"Dude, I really think you should go to the medical centre"

"Nah bro, I got dnd like NOW I gotta boost"

"wait Trent!" Clark yelled out "err, dnd thats an interesting hobbie for a jock, what else are you into"

Trent spun around on the spot with a big smirk on his face

"glad you asked dude, I love three things, gymmin, gamin, dndenin..dndin.....dndining....." Trent's voice trailed off as he tried to finish forming his catchy sentence

"and, what about your major? what are you studying?" Brody asked

"errr huhuhu, like, what's a major?" Trent said turning around to leave again

"FUCK DUDE I THINK WE ACTUALLY FRIED HIS BRAIN" Clark started to panic

"I mean, yeah, but it seems like his core interests and that jock hypno video have combined into a new personality, I dunno if we friend his brain more, re-wrote it"

"DUDE NOW IS NOT THE FUCKING TIME FOR YOUR INTEREST IN THE HUMAN BRAIN WE FUCKING CREATED GYM BRO FRANKENSTIEN"

Trent walked out the door into the crowded hallway. Students were all talking over the top of each other in front of their dorm rooms trying to work out what was going on. The two boys raced out to follow Trent.

"Trent dude wait!, errr, tell me about your dnd character" Brody called out desperately trying to stop him from leaving

Trent continued to power forward through the crowd, pushing through them like water with his new powerful body.

"well bro, I was gonna play some like, lil spell caster dude, but like, i dunno bro, numbers are hard, so like, I think I'm just gonna play, like, some sick fucking, roided out minotaur with a huge axe"

Brody was struggling to keep up with Trent, they both had already lost Clark to the sea of students. Brody grabbed onto the back of Trent's shirt which caused him to stop and turn around.

"woah lil dude, if you wanted some action all you had to do was ask, I got an 8 inch python with your na-"

"WHAT!, ha, oh, no dude, errr, that's" Brody's face turned bright red as he got flustered.

"no? damn too bad, you lil fuckin, science dudes are kinda cute"

Brody was stunned, some how all this muscle and new persona had also added a level of charm to Trent that dug right through to his core. But it was too late to grab his attention again. Trent had already pulled away and gone off out of Brody's sight...

One week had passed since the extreme power surge that had hit the Athlete Scholarship Dorms. There almost wasn't a single incident other than a few blown light bulbs and some damaged electronics....almost. The college had found out about Trent, no matter how hard Brody and Clark tried to hide it. However the two got off lucky. Both the College and the investigation into what happened deemed it was an accident that unfortunately resulted in what was being called "Personality Death". Trent had an entirely healthy body and brain with no signs of damages, but something had happen to completely re-write who and what he was.

The college couldn't let Trent graduate, he couldn't even remember what he had enrolled for, but the college still found a purpose for him. The hid the extreme and sudden body transformation from the investigation and gave Trent a 'job'. His official title was research assistant but he was too stupid for any serious work. His real job was to sit there and be injected with experimental steroids. Forced to grow like some roided out lab rat. Not that he cared, every time Trent put on even an ounce of muscle he'd spend hours in the mirror flexing. He was the biggest guy on campus.

[6 years later]

"okay babe, just hold still"

"aahhh, fuck, it feels so good when it goes in"

"you are so weird, I hate getting injections"

"well huhuhu, when you got a sexy lil piece of meat to do em, its a huge fuckin turn on dude"

Brody stood up from the kitchen table and began to clean up the injection kit, chuckling as he did it.

"Trent, that's so cheesy"

Trent stood up, the sound of wood scraping against the floor filled the room as he effortlessly and accidentally moved the entire dining table.

"will it make me look like Captain America huhuhu?"

"babe...seriously, I think we passed the Captain America stage about 150 pounds ago"

"then hit me with all 6 and make me the hulk" Trent pressed his body against Brody and the table.

Brody was no stranger to 300+ pounds pressing against him "I said no Trent" a slight grin cracked across Brody's face, 'besides, for all I know that one shot will add another 50 pounds, we gotta wait and see."

Trent stood there staring into Brody's eyes with an expression that could only be described as a computer failing to load a basic program 10 times in a row.

"Then jab me with all 6 and give me" Trent stopped to count on his fingers, "120 pounds of muscle" a large smirk crept across his face, proud he was able to do the math in his head.

Brody rolled his eyes and chuckled

"that'd be 300 pounds babe" Brody packed up the rest of the kit and left the kitchen.

Trent went to follow after him, he had hit the gym already today so no other thoughts existed in his mind other than getting attention for how big he was from Brody, but as he walked out the kitchen he caught a glimpse of himself and began flexing in the lounge room mirror, completely forgetting what he had been doing just 2 seconds again...

He was so proud of the roided lab rat he had become...

[cordeliawhohung]

Of Sea Foam and Iron [4]

general masterlist | series masterlist | taglist

Hephaestus!ghost x Aphrodite!reader x Ares!soap

a love like fire

wc: 3.5k

 You rise before the dawn’s glory has the chance to wash your home in gold. 

Not even the doves are up to sing their songs as they bask in the faint glow of the sunrise curling above the horizon. Its pallid light seeps into the bedroom through the shutters over the window where it streaks on the walls in gentle beams. You are still trapped just like you are every morning; nestled between your two naked husbands as they gently snore through their dreams. Their warmth lulls you to sleep, whispers for you to close your eyes once more and rest. It takes significant convincing to coax your limbs into movement. To rip yourself from the heat that surrounds you in this elysian morning. 

Like a hare, you burrow your way through swathes of blankets, taking care not to tread on the sleeping figures on either side of you. They wake. You know they do. Snores suddenly ceasing, bodies tensing, eyelids fluttering — but they do not speak. They let you slip away; their little dove, fluttering free from the nest. 

Small beads of water clump onto the shutters of the kitchen window, dripping on the sill in tiny pools as you open them. Rain has continued to spit and drizzle over the land for a few days now, but the bulk of the storm has passed. Green foliage and fresh crops have thrived off of the nutrients, covering the oceanside with lush, singing plants. Even the courtyard hums a verdant tune with specks of yellow dandelions dancing in their midst. 

But you did not wake up early to stand in the moist, chilly air, or to watch as the brume settles and sways above the earth. You are awake to make bread. 

A warm blaze ignites in the stove with embers you steal from the dying hearth. Growing flames waltz before your eyes to a terrifying tune. Fire has always scared you. You watch their amber glow and recall the burning flesh of your fathers hands from a kitchen mishap when you were a child. Seared skin, bubbling with blisters, and quiet curses; it took him weeks to fully heal. To be able to hold your hand without tears pricking his eyes. 

Your love for the ocean only grew after that incident. An insatiable urge to let the foamy waves wash over your body, cleansing you. You suppose fire can also clean — can sanitize you until there’s no filth left — but there is more love to be found in briny water than choking flames. Fire cleans by consuming indiscriminately. Water cleans by smothering the grime until you are bare and naked. 

How odd, then, for you to be married to a man born and raised by fire. 

Simon is the first of the two to rise after you. Half dressed, he carefully shuffles down the stairs, following the scent of warm bread cooling next to a bowl of freshly boiled dandelions. Unlike usual, you hear him approaching. His steps are hardly silent these days with his knees aching from the weather, but he grunts less as he enters the kitchen. 

You turn to greet him, and an ambivalent pang twists in your stomach. Simon has been on your mind all morning — or, really, the last few days. Your conversation with John has haunted you in more ways than one, and it’s especially tortuous when you’re living with the ghost. That strange apparition who arrived in your life to whisk you to safety. Not even the simple act of breadmaking could void him from your thoughts. While kneading dough, all you could recall was the way your fingers moved along the scars on his knees in an attempt to quell the agony writhing underneath his skin. 

A small act of love — too meaningless to acquit you of your other transgressions.

“Good morning,” you say, voice shorter than you intended. 

Simon looks at you for a long moment, fingers curling and uncurling to break apart the stiffness in his joints. “Morning.” 

Thick ignominy clogs your throat, and you avert your gaze from the towering stance of your husband for bread and wilted dandelions. You distract yourself as you dress the greens with a healthy drizzle of olive oil and coarse salt, but you are well aware of the heavy feet sliding along the floor behind you. The dull scrape leaves the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, and you regret leaving the windows open. 

“What’s this?” He’s close. The closest he’s ever been to you outside of bed, chest nearly against your back as he glances over your shoulder. Heat radiates off of him like the forge he slaves over — as if the flesh of his heart has been torn out and replaced with a crucible. “Horta vrasta?” 

Every instinct within you screams at you to look over your shoulder, but you don’t. “Yes. We don’t have any lemons, though. Oil and salt will have to suffice.” 

A sonorous hum rattles his chest. “My mother used to cook this,” he recalls. 

You wish he didn’t tell you that, because now you’re thinking of him as a child. Young, small; free from scars. Fair skin kissed by the sun — kissed by a loving mother — as she attempts to fix messy strands of flaxen hair on his forehead. You imagine him being embraced by his mother. You imagine his smile before it was ruined by marks and disfiguration; before it was washed away in blood and gore. A twitch in your fingers halts your movements as you go to mix the still warm dandelions in front of you:

Does he still dream of his mother? Does he pray to the gods that you would hold him the same way she used to? How ugly of you — you think to yourself — to be so wary of a man because of the scars on his skin as if his voice wasn’t the sweetest sound you had ever heard when he spoke of the woman who birthed him. As if those scars were given to him over something other than love. 

Neither of you speak a word as he retrieves a knife and begins to slice the bread. Help that you didn’t ask for, yet help that you don’t refrain from receiving. His hands are almost as large as the loaf, and though it could easily crumble in his hands, he handles it with nothing but care as the crust breaks beneath the blade. 

He’ll keep his distance, if you let him.

You swallow. “Did… you enjoy this meal as a child?” you question. 

“No,” he admits. Blunt, but not rude. “But it reminds me of her, so I enjoy it anyway.” 

Just as Simon finishes — several slices sitting in pristine stripes in front of him — you hear a yawn from the stairwell. You turn to the source of the noise and find John, chiton hardly covering his chest as he lumbers into the kitchen. He yawns again, hand covering his open mouth, before eyes dripping with delassation land on you and Simon. A smile attempts to flitter across your lips, but it looks just as awkward as it feels. 

“You should have woken me up. I would have helped,” he says. It’s unclear as to who it’s directed to, you or Simon, but you have a feeling it’s both of you. 

Simon doesn’t bother to look over his shoulder as he replies: “You needed the sleep.” 

John scoffs, something light and playful, as he approaches the table with a wave of his hand. Wood squeaks as he drags his chair back, and sits down with a thump. “Making me obsolete over here.”

“I’m makin’ you heal,” Simon retorts. 

Breakfast is quiet, save for the savory crunch of fresh bread crust between your teeth. Everyone is too busy nourishing their bodies to stop and talk, but there is a tight atmosphere that hangs heavy in the air around your head. This discomfiture plagues you relentlessly, painfully reminding you just how sheltered you have been throughout your life. Boarded up. A bird locked in a cage. Rather than preparing you for the real world, you’re left writhing about, pecking at the hands that try to feed you, and lazily preening yourself for comfort. 

Despite Simon’s apparent dislike — or contempt — for the dish, he’s the first to finish. Plate nearly licked clean, you’re certain the man has never complained about anything in his entire life. He’s never complained about you, anyway, even when he should have. He licks his fingers clean of oil and salt before pushing away from the table. 

“I should head to the market. We’re low on food,” he says. 

“Simon, love, you’re still struggling to walk,” John reminds him. “Let me go.”

“I can walk plenty fine.”

It’s a lie; an obvious one. He always limps, but it’s been exaggerated ever since that storm rolled in, and you’re reminded as much as you watch him stand to discard his plate. Warm stones and your brittle hands can only do so much to heal the ache that permeates even the toughest parts of him.

“You have work to catch up on. Been too rainy to keep the forge running,” John urges. He’s nearly begging as he stands from his seat and chases after his lover. “Let me go. Worry about work. I’ll take care of this.” 

Either Simon is a man who refuses to accept help, or he holds a love so strong that he can’t imagine shouldering any sort of burden onto the ones he cares for; either way, when he finally accepts John’s offer, he does so begrudgingly. Mutters something about how he shouldn’t be out long before pressing a kiss to his cheek. When he decides that wasn’t good enough, he drags John closer by his chiton before truly embracing him. 

I would have liked to have married him.

Nothing settles properly in your stomach. Not the oil or bread, nor the delicious greens — the only thing that settles is the guilt. Its roots twist far and deep in your body, strangling every artery and organ until it’s got a hold of your bones. You have ruined something beautiful; become a disgusting stain on what could have been a poignant love story, and you don’t have even the slightest idea on how to mend the damage. 

“Would you like to come with me, little dove?” 

The plate in front of you scoots back along the deep, etching grains of the table, and you follow the hand moving it until John is in your view. Your brain processes his question, eyes blinking as you try to come back down to earth. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you say in a half-hearted attempt at dismissing his notion. 

His smile is faint and exhausted as it crosses his lips, but his movements are just as strong and tempered as the stories would have you believe. Wooden boards creak underneath his weight as he gets on one knee, hands slowly reaching for yours. John relishes the touch of your skin, thumb rubbing along the metacarpals in your hand like he’s never felt anything so soft before. 

“It would do you some good to get out of the house,” he insists before pausing. What was a faint smile quickly morphs into a hardly contained grin as he leans closer. You attempt to quell your thunderous heart, yet it does not listen to you. “I’ll take you to visit the ocean.” 

Zeal glimmers in the dark pupils of your eyes, and John can no longer contain the curl of his lips or the flash of his teeth. He’s lured you in; hook, line, and sinker — but you don’t care. You have not tasted the brine of home in so long, you almost fear you’ve forgotten it, and you willingly fall into him as he pulls you up from your seat like a fish dangling on thread. 

Despite the cool breeze, the market is packed. Freshly slaughtered animals hang up for display on wickedly curved hooks piercing through their meat. They’re so fresh that you swear you can nearly feel the life still buzzing through them; hear the quiet bleat of a lamb crying for comfort.  Boisterous laughter ignites as deals are struck among traders, and you find your eyes wandering to wooden tubs full to the brim with mouthwatering produce — you can’t recall the last time you were allowed at the market. Some time ago when you were still a child, surely. Before your father locked you away to keep men from spilling blood over petty vanity. 

John rarely lets go of your hand as he splits patrons apart like a knife through flesh. No one dares to brush past you. They eye the dog leashed to your hand, look at his scars and bloodthirsty smile, and they refrain from even glancing at you, lest they tempt the beast into attacking. For a moment, you’re able to be blissfully unaware of it all. Of the bodies swarming behind you as you squeeze freshly harvested tomatoes. Every voice that speaks is muted as you enjoy the artisan goods and handcrafted jewelry — the freshly pressed cheese, the expertly woven textiles, beautiful dyes. 

For the first time in years, you’re able to wander the world with child-like wonder rather than dread and trepidation, and you’re not sure what to thank for that. Have you grown undesirable? A wild woman locked up too long? Feral, untamed eyes that only know how to yearn for the world rather than seize it? Or is it because of John, the man who holds so much care for you that you are the only thing in the world that can bend his otherwise immutable stance? Is this the life your father dreamed for you? To not only be respected, but feared? 

Once the bag is heavier with food than it is coin, John fulfills his promise to you, and you find sun kissed sand between your toes in no time. Days grow warmer and longer as summer reaches its peak, and your lungs revel in the brackish air, still thick with petrichor. The ocean’s song hums low and strong, a gentle push and pull that leaves your senses tingling. You feel it calling. That insatiable allure that would have you drown in the salt and mist if it called for you to do so. 

You stare out at the waves as the wind teases your chiton. That same wind drags billowing clouds along the horizon where the sky meets the sea, drawing away the summer storm that’s been plaguing the city for days. Something swells in your chest. You pray that Poseidon shows mercy with his storms. Simon has been aching for too long. 

“Look at this.”

John begs for your attention softly with the brush of his knuckles against the back of your arm. His mellow touch still makes you jump — flinch as if you have been burnt — and you glance to your side as he comes into view. Sand coated fingers brush against a dainty, bone white disk, cleaning it of debris. A delicate fossil reveals itself underneath the grime; perfect bones preserved in sediment to create a completely whole sand dollar. You find your own fingers reaching out on instinct to brush against the fragile shell. It’s rare for you to find one unbroken. Something not shattered into pieces that litter the coastline. 

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe. 

“Keep it. It’s yours, now,” he insists. 

Warm hands embrace yours as John uncurls your fingers and presses the sand dollar into your palm. You let it rest gentle and quiet, as if a mere onerous thought would force the sediment to crack. You smile down at the object — or, perhaps you smile at John’s enthusiasm. Wild dogs are often known for biting. For reveling in the flesh they sink their teeth into, and chuckling while they savor the blood. But this dog — Ares’s Dog — loves to play just as much as he does fight. Fetching trinkets and bones like childsplay. Returning it to the people he adores most with an ivory grin. 

John MacTavish is very altruistic for a dog, and it worries you. It worries you, because you don’t know what to do with this unfamiliar feeling that twists in your stomach. 

“You are… very kind,” you note with a stiff tone. 

“Does it surprise you that I am?” he asks, sliced eyebrow quirking. 

“I think so,” you admit. Restive fingers carefully curl around the object in your hand. You stare at it as your heart thuds against your sternum, as if attempting to break free from your chest. “All other men before you and Simon love so violently. Enough that they would strike my father, or lunge like snakes poised to bite. Kindness has always been false for me. Something that precedes the terrifying reveal of what people truly want from me. I think… I am afraid to love, or be loved. I’m afraid it will hurt.” 

John is silent for a moment. The swell of crashing waves waxes and wanes just like the moon it dances to. Seagulls scream their shrill song for the ocean to dance to. They clash to make their own symphony. It is a tradition you were born and raised on. You could sway to it with your eyes gouged and ears ruptured. 

“I’ve been thinking about this for some time now,” you continue. Your toes wiggle in the sand in an attempt to comfort yourself, but you can feel the way the brine burns your eyes. “My fear. I lash out like a child. A wild animal. I do not know how you and Simon put up with such an unruly wife. Anyone else would have…”

Swallowing, you cut yourself off, refusing to finish your thought. 

“If it is violent, then it isn’t love,” John concludes, smothering any worries lingering in the cords of your heart. His fingers brush over yours, soft and comforting, and this time, you do not flinch. “Love is not gentle. It rages like fire and consumes more than you’d like it to. But it does not hurt. It never hurts. I promise. And don’t worry about Simon and I. Neither of us are unfamiliar with the strangeness of the heart, or how fear manifests into anger. It’s a fragile balance, little dove.” 

With trembling lips, you look at John. For a man with sinewy muscles and scars deep enough to shred them, he looks at you with a softness that nearly makes you crumble. The very foundation of your being weakens and cries out. You could collapse to the ground, and you’re terrified there would be nothing to break your fall. 

“You’re quite the poet for a soldier,” you say in an attempt at humor. 

He grins. “You find much to think and write about while traveling the lands. Much to love. Including you.” 

You understand what John meant when he said love is like fire. Unforgiving flames lick at the heels of your feet, and your heart flutters in preparation to flee. It’s foreign. Uncomfortable. All your life, you have known nothing but the cold, treacherous waters of the ocean — it’s all you’ve ever been — and you fear it may be too late to warm you now. 

John does not wait for a response. Does not demand gratitude or reciprocation. Instead, he turns his head where the wind pulls at the dark locks of his hair. His skin glows beneath the sunlight as if Apollo has kissed him a hundred times over, and he smiles at the warmth. 

“We’ve been gone too long. Can hear Simon’s mumbling already,” he teases while he adjusts the strap of his bag. “Are you ready to go home?”

Home. He says it like it’s the place where you’ve always belonged. Like your very essence stains the wood and stone that house is built of. It feels wrong for him to give you ownership of something you used to rage so fiercely against. You are undeserving of it. Of any softness they bestow. Yet, you crave it. John says that word — home — and you want to wrap yourself in his timbre. You would have liked to have met him and Simon sooner. It would have been enjoyable making bread for them every morning. 

“Yes,” you answer meekly.  

This time, you are the one to take his hand. John glances at you like a dog with its ears perked up, and for a moment his expression is unreadable. Shock. Startled. Then, he melts. Fingers interlacing with yours, his quiet mirth washes over you as he tugs you forward, nearly bounding off to follow fading footprints back home. Hand clutching John’s gift to your chest, you smile. It aches and burns in your cheeks as the unused muscles protest, and still it persists. 

If what John says is true — that love eats like a raging fire — you will gladly be consumed until you’re used up and nothing but ash. After all, it would be fitting to be destroyed by the only thing you have ever craved.

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 4

I finished it!! It will have 8 chapters. I'm excited for you guys to see where this goes! I'm still working on Sweet Home Indiana and will be focusing on that until ITS done. Then we'll be back our regularly schedule WIPs.

We have Eddie's big plan and Steve gets his flirt on.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

****

Steve slipped into the kitchen and there in his mother’s neat handwriting was a note telling him that there were leftovers in the fridge and that they would be home again next Friday.

He sighed and opened the fridge. He immediately closed it when he saw what the leftovers were.

Boiled cabbage with chopped bacon and carrots. It wasn’t bad if it was made correctly, but his mother boiled any flavor and nutrients out of the poor vegetables and then tossed in cooked bacon to hide its sins.

He opened the cupboard and pulled out a small can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and made that. He was craving the sodium. Eddie’s beef was good to get his body to stop shaking, but he had sweat so much he needed to replenish the salt he’d lost.

Once Steve had eaten and drank another glass of water he went to go get a shower and get ready for bed. It was no use trying to get back to his homework now. He had managed to blow up his whole evening by getting lost.

He had no idea how he got to Forest Hills or even why his feet carried him there in the first place. He could feel the weariness seeping into his bones from running for so long.

He undressed and got under the scorching water, letting the heat carry away his pains. His mind ran through all the things that Munson had done for him. The guy had no reason to be nice to him, but he had been more than gracious.

Then it hit him. Munson had called him Stevie, and without thinking Steve had called him Eds.

Eds.

Where the fuck did that come from? They weren’t friends, they could barely be considered acquaintances. Was his brain reaching out to the guy subconsciously? Is that why he ended up at the trailer park? Everyone knew that’s where Munson lived. Who knew how many times the guy had been called trailer trash, but the older teen seemed to rise above the insult.

Steve shook his head, spraying water everywhere. Just because Munson picked up lost sheep, didn’t mean he’d be willing to taken in an injured wolf. Because that’s what he was, reformed or not, Steve would never be a sheep. He would always be a wolf. A predator.

But at least as a wolf he could protect those kids with everything he had. And he would, even if it killed him.

The water had long since turned cold by the time Steve stepped out of the shower. He completed his after shower routine mostly on autopilot as he kept going over his interactions with both Munson men. He didn’t really have good interactions with dads or in this case uncles. But Munson’s uncle Wayne treated him with kindness and he could see where the older boy got it from.

He dressed into his pajamas and slid under the covers. He rolled over on his back and tucked one arm under his pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

Steve thought back to the apology. One Munson really didn’t have to give but did anyway. He thought about the other jocks that bragged about hurting his hand. He held it up and looked at the fading bruise. It wasn’t as though he was even basketball anymore. Hurting his hand wouldn’t do anything but make it hard to do his homework and all he had to do is show his teachers his hurt hand and he’d get extensions for that. Like he had for his concussion last November.

But then again Tommy H. never had reasons for the people he hurt either. He just liked the power he got seeing the person helpless.

He placed his hand over his heart and let himself drift off the sleep, brown eyes and dark curls haunting his dreams.

****

Eddie had originally bought the red heart for himself like he had told the two juniors. But staring at it now, he had a better plan for it. Because that last wall, that last bastion of defense crumbled to ashes when he realized that despite the fancy car, the big house, and the expensive clothes, Steve Harrington was more like Eddie than he thought possible.

Wayne’s approval of the boy cemented that for him. Because if he could take one look at Steve and decide he was worth saving, then Eddie raring to go full steam ahead for a rescue mission.

Eddie could tell that the hearts were made from simple construction paper, like the kind found just about anywhere. He knew it would be technically cheating to just simply make more instead of buying them, but he had no intention of contributing to a dance he was never going to go to because one, it wasn’t his year; two, the whole gay thing; and three, the one person he would want to go with if the gay thing wouldn’t get him hate crimed, wouldn’t give him the time of day.

Well, all right, that might have changed with the whole rescuing him from wandering alone in the dark thing.

He forgave Eddie about being a dumbass, so maybe there was hope for, at the very least, a vast decrease in hostility. And he was willing to take what he could get.

He decided to wait until tomorrow after school to get the construction paper and hope that the high school hadn’t bought up the town’s supply.

On his way out the next morning, Wayne stopped him.

“You don’t have to tell me, son,” he said gently, “but you got feelings for that boy?”

Eddie froze and turned slowly to face his uncle. “What gave you that idea?”

Wayne chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Boy, when you’d go on rants about the Harrington boy, you’d describe his floppy hair, his hazel eyes and how unfairly good looking the kid was. I didn’t say anything because it did sound like he’d been a bit of an ass. Only after last night I got to thinking and was wondering is all.”

Eddie closed his eyes and opened them slowly. He let out a long shuddering breath, his bottom lip quivering.

“I–I don’t...” he closed his eyes again. This wasn’t Al. He wasn’t going to get beat for admitting it, but still it was so hard to say. So he just nodded.

Wayne came up and wrapped his arms around his nephew. “It’s a hell of a lot tougher batting for the other team, but I trust your judgment. Just promise me that if he shows signs of liking you back, you take the chance to tell him how you feel because...”

“You miss one hundred percent of the chances you don’t take,” they said together.

Eddie dropped his bag to the floor and hugged him back. “I know, old man. But I promise if there is a chance, I’ll be brave enough to take it.”

“Get going,” Wayne said, voicing cracking with emotion.

He pulled back and nodded. He reshouldered his backpack and got in his van.

He had a lot to think about and that really wasn’t conducive to paying attention in class or to his friends as they talked about their upcoming D&D session.

Gareth kicked his shin causing him to yelp.

“What the fuck, dude?” Eddie hissed.

“What the fuck is up with you?” Gareth hissed back. “You’ve been going on and on about the mind flayer for weeks and now that it’s literally this weekend, and you’re off in some other realm.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment before his brain came back on. He shook his head to clear it.

“Yeah, sorry, man,” he said around a pretzel. “Weird night last night.”

“What happened?” Jeff asked, tilting his head to the side.

So Eddie told them. “He was like a ghost, guys. If Wayne hadn’t seen him too, I would have thought I was hitting Mary Jane a little too hard, you know?”

“I didn’t realize he was getting bullied,” Brian said, frowning. “I would have thought with Hargrove giving the dude a wide berth, that everyone else would have too.”

“Untouchable,” Jeff agreed. “The fact that jocks are now splintering into factions tells you what kind of control Steve actually had on them.”

Eddie rubbed his chin. “I don’t know how true this is, but if Harrington wasn’t lying, he’s a real sweetheart, too.”

Then he leaned forward and explained about the pink heart scheme.

“So,” Gareth said, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them, “you’re telling us is that we have been seriously remiss in our duties in collecting lost sheep.”

The older teen sighed and shook his head. “I’d like to collect him, but I’m afraid the wolves might decide to rip him apart before we got him to safety if we tried.”

Jeff winced. He knew what Eddie was talking about. Steve Harrington wasn’t the usual lost sheep. He might be bullied now, but as King, Harrington had run far too long with the wolves to think that they could protect him one hundred percent of the time.

“So what are we going to do?” Brian asked. “Because if we let this slide, we’re throwing our lot in with the bullies and that’s something I refuse to do.”

A grin spread out over Eddie’s face, closed lips and dimples entrenched into his cheeks. “We’re going to make the school think that he’s just as popular as he ever was.”

The other three boys looked at each other in confusion.

“So what have you got?” Gareth asked, his own grin starting to take over his face.

****

Eddie made sure to get to class early so he could see where Steve was going to sit. He tried to tell himself it was about the dude’s hand, but it wasn’t working. He wanted to see if the former Hawkins royalty would chose to sit with his old friends or by him again.

He didn’t have long to wait. Steve walked in not long after he did, just as the bell rang. He didn’t even look at his old desk near the front and beelined it for the chair he had sat in on Friday.

The teacher picked up on the change immediately and wrinkled her nose. “I am to suppose that you are taking up permanent residence in the back with Mr. Munson, Mr. Harrington?”

Steve half shrugged as he began to pull out his things for class. “I got more work done, Mrs. Dixon and I really want to graduate on time.”

Mrs. Dixon nodded. “Agreed and as long as you continue the level of attention from last week, you are permitted to stay there.”

About half way through class while Mrs. Dixon was grading papers, Tommy H. turned around and kicked Steve’s chair. “Suck up,” he hissed.

Steve puckered his lips and wagged his eyebrows. “Why? Do you want to be next?”

Tommy turned back around, his face bright red.

Eddie raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side as he considered everything about that interaction.

A little blossom of hope sprouted in his chest and he fought to keep it down. Steve had insinuated that other people were gay for years, but to Eddie’s highly trained gay ears, that sounded like Steve was offering to suck Tommy H.’s dick and that Tommy didn’t exactly turn him down.

Curiouser and curiouser, he thought tapping his lips thoughtfully. More research would have to be done.

He pulled out a different notebook, the one he used for campaign notes and song lyrics.

He wrote girls over one column and boys over the other and began tallying what he knew about the former King of Hawkins.

A shit ton went into the Steve liking girls column, but there was surprisingly more in the liking boys column then he would have thought possible. He looked up to catch Steve smirking at him.

Eddie quickly covered his notebook and stuck his tongue out at Steve.

The other boy shook his head and went back to doing the assignment. Eddie was more careful about what he left out in the open because he didn’t want Steve teased for it nor did he want him to see that Eddie was trying to figure him out.

The bell rang and the notebook was suddenly whisked off his desk.

“Hey!” Eddie cried, looking up to see Steve dancing away with the notebook teasingly. “Stevie!” He grabbed his bag and chased after the other boy. But the other boy was a jock and Eddie was wheezing for breath by the time he caught up with him at his locker.

“Give that back,” he huffed.

Steve gave him a bright smile and handed it back. “I just made a minor addition.”

Eddie frowned as he flipped through the pages but didn’t see anything. Steve took it back and turned to the correct page and leaned close so that only Eddie could hear.

“I trust you’ll keep my secret,” he whispered and then dropped to one knee to start getting into his locker.

Eddie gulped at the sight and turned to the paper to avoid saying something stupid. There in bold capital letters under his girls/guys columns was the word BOTH.

He looked up at Steve who had stood up. Steve winked at him and then walked away, leaving a shocked Eddie behind.

****

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List:

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@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

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@ravenfrog @dauntlessdiva @thelittleclare @steddieyourself @dam28lh

[catmelonwriting]

the fic of aku and chuuya where the reader has bulimia was so good omg :,)

as someone who also suffers from bulimia i found it so so comforting

if possible could i please request another one with dazai, nikolai and poe <333

please remember to take care of yourself!! <3

More BSD Men with a bulimic! Reader

Warnings: Bulimia, vomit type purging, Nikolai is ignorant, Nikolai spoon feeds you, Nikolai in general, I really fucking hate Dazai so I'm a little mean in his part, reader is not underweight b/c this is based on my experiences

Characters: Dazai, Nikolai, Poe

A/N: this is my first time ever writing for poe and I do not think I nailed his character but yk it's chill.. also I don't really like this I think the only one I really did good was Chuuya in pt 1

Part one here

Nikolai

- I'm so sorry 4 this but he probably thinks ur pathetic..

- Thinks bulimia is gross IM SORRY

- He won't try and stop u till his DUMBASS is informed by Fyodor that Bulimia, especially vomit + laxative purge types are very very very dangerous!!

- A sick part of him wants to encourage you to continue so if you die he'd feel free but ofc he pushes that away and won't encourage you

Oneshot

Catching you purge

You two had just finished eating dinner on your couch when you promptly excused yourself to the bathroom. He looks up at your standing form with suspicious eyes, but doesn't say anything and lets you wander off towards the bathroom.. just until he hears choking and coughing coming from your shared restroom.

You let out a gasp of surprise as you hear the bathroom door open with a loud bang. Fuck, did you really forget to lock it? You pull the end of your toothbrush out the back of your throat and turn around to face your loving boyfriend with tears in your eyes, who had a look of pity on his face.

He groans in exasperation, "Dove.. didn't I tell you to stop doing that?" He asks, his time filled with faux sympathy as he picks the toothbrush out of your hand, placing it back in the holder. All you can do is sigh.. he just didn't get it. "Kolya, I wish it was that easy, but it's not. It's really, really not."

"Oh please, excuses excuses." He mutters, pulling you to your feet before closing the toilet lid and flushing your dinner down the drain. "C'mon, let's get you some more food." Pulling you out of the bathroom by the arm, he drags you to the kitchen and sits you down on the floor.

"Kolya.. no.. I don't need anything else. I don't want anything else." You grumble while he digs in the fridge and pantries. "Well, you just threw up all the nutrients I gave you.. so we gotta get at least a little bit more in you." He smiles, sitting down in front of you with his legs crossed. He placed a bowl of applesauce in front of you, lifting up the spoon to your mouth. "Say aahh.." he giggles, and you begrudgingly open your mouth.

Once the bowl is finished, he places it in your sink and looks down at you with a serious edge in his eyes. "Now.. bathroom is off limits for.. let's say an hour. Cmon, I'll tuck you in."

Poe

- such a sweetheart omg :(

- holds you in his lap with his arms everytime you try and scurry off to your bathroom after a meal

- unlike nikolai he WILL stop you before you even get the chance to throw up

Oneshot

Stopping you from b/p

He had just finished cooking dinner and had placed your portion in front of you, before sitting across from you and staring down at his own meal. Poe had never eaten much himself.. but tried to start eating more to be a good example when you told him about your 'mia.

You wanted to cry. You knew you were either going to shove this all down your throat in five minutes or you weren't going to eat any of it, and you knew he knew. "My love.." He starts, his voice soft. "Can you try? Just a small bite?" He mumbles, reaching across the table and piercing a piece of broccoli on your fork, holding it up to you.

You took a deep breath, and took the fork from him, placing the food in your mouth. You tried, so, so hard. You placed the dirk down while you were chewing, making sure to go slow and take your time tasting the food.

Slowly, with his help, you finished your meal in what you two would call a normal length, around fifteen minutes, but everything inside of you told you to runaway towards the bathroom, stick the back of a toothbrush down your throat and rid yourself of all these calories. "I'll be right back, Ed." Clearing your throat, you stand up and walk towards the restroom.

You heard him sigh and his hand caught your arm, causing you to turn around and face him. You let out a huff as he pulls you down onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist and keeping you there "I know what you're going to do." His voice was soft, and gentle, you hated & loved it at the same time. It comforted you but it also made you feel so.. small, like you can't take care of yourself.

All you could find yourself able to do was lean into his touch, muttering a thank you while you rest your head on his chest.

Dazai

I fucking hate him so much I want him dead I hope the next attempt works Dazai

- Another IGNORANT man although this time he'll probably try and act like he cares

- bro probably threatens to tie you to the bed to stop you from binging

- "You can't ruin your perfect physique by binging, 'donna." Little does he know that does NOT help

- He'll say similar things about purging though too so it's fine

- "Shouldn't purge either. You're gonna screw up that pretty little throat and then I can't use it for .. other things."

Oneshot

Catching you binge

You were on the kitchen floor, stuffing your face with the pan of brownies you had made last night. You had already downed a bottle of milk, a loaf of plain bread, dry oats shoved into your mouth by the handful, anything you could think of. You wanted, no, needed, as much as you could get.

You jump as you hear a key turn in the front door, followed by the door opening and closing before Dazai stood above you, a look of disappointment on his face, and was that.. disgust? You knew people thought bulimia was disgusting, but him? Really? Your loving boyfriend?

"Okay, bella. Let's get this cleaned up." He sighs, pulling you to your feet. You were frozen, you just stood there as tears welled in your eyes from the humiliation and guilt. You needed the throw up. You pushed past him and sprinted towards the bathroom, only to be caught by the waist halfway there.

"No, no, no." He tuts, pulling your back against his chest. "There's no need for that. Remember what I said about needing that throat to be ready? Yeah, it's not gonna be if you're vomiting." He looks at you with a sickly sweet smile and all you wanted to do was collapse on the floor and sob but his arms kept you there.

Eventually, he pulled you down onto the floor with him so you sat on his lap as he whispered sweet nothing's in your ear, while you cried wishing you could just vanish.

[aurummarie]

Self-Care Sunday

Self-care is about prioritizing your well-being and doing things that make you feel good. Feel free to adjust the routine to best suit your preferences and needs. Here's a step-by-step guide:

Step 1: Set the Mood Create a relaxing environment by dimming the lights and playing soothing music. Light some scented candles or use essential oils to enhance the ambiance.

Step 2: Morning Meditation or Stretching Start your self-care Sunday with a short meditation session to clear your mind and set positive intentions for the day. Alternatively, indulge in gentle stretching or yoga to awaken your body.

Step 3: Skincare Ritual Begin with a gentle cleanse to refresh your skin. Follow up with a hydrating mask or a DIY face mask using natural ingredients like honey and yogurt. Take this time to pamper your skin and give it some much-needed love.

Step 4: Nourishing Breakfast Prepare a nutritious and delicious breakfast. Consider options like a smoothie bowl, whole grain pancakes, or avocado toast. Incorporate fruits, veggies, and protein to fuel your body for the day ahead.

Step 5: Journaling or Creative Expression Spend some time journaling your thoughts, goals, or things you're grateful for. Alternatively, engage in a creative activity you enjoy, like painting, drawing, or writing poetry.

Step 6: Relaxing Bath or Shower Take a soothing bath with Epsom salts, bath oils, or your favorite bubble bath. If you prefer a shower, use a fragrant body wash or scrub to refresh your skin. Consider playing calming music or listening to a podcast as you unwind.

Step 7: Hair Care Dedicate time to your hair care routine. Whether you're deep conditioning, trying out a new hairstyle, or simply giving your hair a break from styling, make it a moment of self-care.

Step 8: Mindful Reading or Learning Spend time reading a book that inspires you or teaches you something new. This could be a novel, a self-help book, or an article related to a topic you're passionate about.

Step 9: Nature Connection If possible, spend time outdoors in nature. Whether it's a walk in the park, sitting under a tree, or simply breathing in fresh air on your balcony, connecting with nature can be incredibly rejuvenating.

Step 10: DIY Spa Time Set up a DIY spa area and treat yourself to a manicure, pedicure, or both. Use a luxurious scrub and follow up with your favorite nail polish for a polished look.

Step 11: Mindful Eating For lunch, prepare a balanced meal that includes a variety of colors and nutrients. Eat slowly and mindfully, savoring each bite.

Step 12: Positive Affirmations Spend a few minutes reciting positive affirmations in front of a mirror. Remind yourself of your worth, strength, and beauty.

Step 13: Creative Cooking or Baking If you enjoy cooking or baking, spend some time in the kitchen preparing a special treat or a new recipe you've been wanting to try.

Step 14: Wind-Down Yoga or Stretching As the day comes to an end, engage in a gentle wind-down yoga session or some gentle stretches to relax your body before bedtime.

Step 15: Relaxing Bedtime Routine Wrap up your self-care Sunday with a calming bedtime routine. This could involve reading a few pages of a book, practicing deep breathing, or using a soothing lavender-scented mist on your pillow.

Remember, the most important thing is to tailor this routine to your preferences and make it a day that feels special and rejuvenating for you. Enjoy your self-care Sunday!

[bestanimal]

Round 1 - Phylum Porifera

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

The Phylum Porifera includes the sponges, also called sea sponges.

These animals are filter feeders that are bound to the sea bed in their adult forms, though some have free-swimming larva. Many species are important for building reefs. Their bodies consist of a mass of collagen jelly (called mesohyl) sandwiched between two main layers of cells. But they are not soft! Most sponges’ bodies are full of sharpened structural elements called spicules, which are made of either silica or calcium carbonate, so any predator biting into a sponge would get the same sensation as biting into shards of glass. Some sponges also have exoskeletons. Most sponges filter food particles via water flowing through their barrels and pores, but some sponges are carnivorous, using either sticky threads or barbed spicules to catch prey. Sponges may have been the first animals, and fossils of them date back to the Cambrian.

Propaganda under the cut:

Sponges could teach us how life began on earth.

As filter-feeding omnivores that feed on detritus, plankton, bacteria, and in some cases crustaceans and other small animals, sponges are an important part of the nutrient cycle in the ocean. Some are also symbiotic to other organisms, like algae, and provide homes for many reef animals.

Glass sponges, with skeletons of six-pointed siliceous spicules, are one of the longest lived animals on earth, with a possible maximum age of around 15,000 years!

While the spicules of most sponges render them too rough for human use, species in the genera Hippospongia and Spongia have soft, fibrous skeletons. Early Europeans used these dried out skeletons for many purposes, including cleaning, padding helmets, filtering water, painting, and even as contraceptives. The sponge industry almost brought these species to extinction, so nowadays most kitchen sponges are made of synthetic or plant-based material.

As revealed in the stage musical, the beloved cartoon character Spongebob Squarepants is an Aplysina fistularis (common name: yellow tube sponge), seen in the first image of this post.

spunch

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - City Girls Part 4/8

Yeah, this chapter is not for the kids 😮‍💨

18++

Reader plays for the Man City girls academy. She struggles a bit but gets Ruben to mentor her. The the two don't hit off despite having many things in common. It all gets worse when Reader eventually catches feelings for Ruben.

Enjoy!

You've done well in training, well enough for coach to let you travel with the first team to their away game in London. If there is one thing you've gotten in bedded in your head from training with Ruben, it would be to "play with your mind." He would shout this at you every time you tried to dribble, or dribble when a pass could be made instead.

"Play with your mind, Y/N."

It was during the last minute's of Manchester City's fixture against Chelsea when their coach called you up from the bench. It was unexpected, terrifying even. But when an opportunity presents itself you take it.

"Play with your mind." You mumbled, as you ran down the field like your life depended on it. A pass was made and suddenly the ball was at your feet. You charged towards the Chelsea defenders, sweping past one without challenging the others. With a late pass to another charging City girl you managed to assist your first Super League goal whilst taking a knee to the side of your body. A price you were willing to pay for more moments like that.

"You should have seen me Ruben, I was amazing."

Despite it being a Friday night, Ruben had been more than willing to train you. "You shouldn't have charged the defender." He said. Raining on your parade.

"I got knocked down, so what? Isn't that what football is about, sacrifice?"

"You call getting injured and missing games sacrifice? I say it was a selfish move against your own teammates."

"Whatever." You scuffed.

You didn't expect anything less from Ruben. What you had gathered from spending more time with him was that he was uptight and practical beyond what was necessary. However, he did help you collect the balls at the end of every training session and for that you were grateful.

"Some of the girls invited me to celebrate the win with them, you should come." You said.

"You're going out? Tonight?" Ruben grabbed a ball, dumping it in the bag you held. He wore a skeptical look on his face, judging you.

"Just for a few drinks." You shrugged. "I thought it'd be good. Who knows, if I get cozy with the first team coach might let me play with them more?"

"Y/N, you're rated based on your performance, not your ability to socialize. Besides, you should be recovering from a game not to risk future injuries."

"Well, how do I do that?"

You tied a knot on the ball bag, letting Ruben carry it for you.

"Recover?" He frowned.

"Yes?"

Normally you'd consider a goodnight sleep the best way to recover, however, Ruben thought otherwise. "Hydration is most important, preferably water. And you must eat somthing, not less than forty-five minutes after you've exercised."

It was strange, being invited to Ruben's  apartment on a friday night. It was big. You stood in his kitchen, his dining table overflowing with healthy nutrients. The two of you were quite comfortable with each other by now, and Ruben was nothing short of a gentleman around you.

"I've prepared the heating pod to help with your blood circulation and then you can continue recovering in my message chair."

It was a passion of his, you could tell from the way he was explaining everything to you, like he really wanted you to learn.

"But first we eat?" You said hopefully.

Ruben blushed realizing that he was getting a bit carried away. "Yes, first we eat. Could you grab that jar for me?"

"Sure."

You reached up, the jar of pasta within your reach. Just as you grasped it with your fingers, a sharp pain shot through the side of your body.

"Y/N, you okay?" Ruben rushed to your side, seeing how you winced.

"My ribs." You groand.

"Let me see."

His arms grabbed your shoulders, helping you stand up straight. Your fingers trembled trying to raise your shirt, the pain too sharp.

"May I?"

Ruben asked for consent to help you. You nodded, letting him roll up the hemn of your top.

"Fuck."

You didn't need to look down to know that it was bad, Ruben's reaction said it all. He looked to you. "Ice bath, now."

Your body shivered in the cold water. Ruben had you sit in it for eight minutes, a timer going off when it was time for you to rise.

"Y/N, you alright?"

There was a light knock on the door, Ruben's voice heard on the other end.

"Yeah, I think I'm good."

"Um...I brought some clothes."

You wrapped a towel around yourself, moving to open the bathroom door. Ruben appeared in the frame. "It's just a t-shirt but it's big enough to cover..." He coughed. "....you know."

"Thank you Ruben, the t-shirt is fine." You moved to shut the door but Ruben's arm appeared in the gap. "I um....I also brought some ointment."

"Oh."

"For the pain." He said, offering you the bottle.

"Thanks Ruben, really. I just don't think..."

"What's wrong?" He frowned.

You shook your head, seeing how worried he became. "It's nothing, really Ruben. It's just that..."

"Y/N, please. If there's somthing I can do."

"Well..." You closed your eyes and sighed. "It hurts too much to lift my arms, so you're gonna have to help me apply the ointment."

Ruben froze.

"Of course, If you're not comfortable..."

"No." He protested. "only if.....you don't mind me helping you?"

Heat rose to your face, realizing what you were asking of him. Either way you nodded. "I'll be right out."

It was awkward, so fucking awkward. You stepped out of the bathroom wearing Ruben's t-shirt. It was shorter than you had expected, cutting just above your knees. Ruben sat on the edge of the living room couch, raising his head when you approached. His hair sprouted upwards as if he had compulsively been running his hands through it. "Shall we begin?" You immediately regretted uttering those words. Ruben looked unsure weather to sit or stand so he let you decide as you stepped up to him, letting him raise your shirt until he could see the bruise on your ribs. Your legs tremble beneath you, the draft between your legs not making things easier for you.

"Is this okay?"

Ruben scooped some ointment out of the bottle, applying it to you skin. He was gentle with his touch, easing up on the pressure if his movements made you wince.

"Ruben, I'm so sorry that I..."

"Sshh." He hushed. "It's okay, I agreed to it."

"Yes but..." It was really awkward, not to mention the tempting weight you felt in the pit of your stomach.

"It's okay Y/N, I'm almost done."

"Okay."

He kept his eyes above your waist, despite you practically offering him a view of the shape of you. Your legs, your thighs...your ass. He looked so focused, eyebrows furrowed and one hand held flat against  your lower back to prevent you from moving as he applied the ointment. It was strange, being taller then him for once.

"I could have challenged that defender." You said, still thinking of the game. "If I was stronge enough."

Ruben grunted. "It's why you don't see as much dribbling in the Super League or female football in general."

"What do you mean?" You frowned.

"Well, defenders are usually the fittest players on the field. They're supposed to be. But the rest of the players..."

"Ruben are you saying women aren't capable of dribblin because weren't strong enough?" An outrageous opinion, to you.

"No, not dribbling." Ruben raised his head, his chin caressing your abs. "Dribbling is easy for men and women, but getting past a defender one on one is different and not recommended in women's football. I'm sure that's why you can't get your coach off your ass. To him, passing the ball would the most efficient way to get past another teams defense."

"So you're saying there's a chance coach will let me play football the way that I want?"

Ruben chuckled. "If your willing to gain a few pounds, sure."

You frowned. The idea of gaining weight was not that appealing to you.

"I meant pounds of muscles, Y/N. Not fat." He read you like an open book. You looked down and smiled. Ruben was done applying the ointment. His hands now caressing the back of your knees, slowly, moving up and down.

"I should probably call Ester, tell her to come pick me up?"

Ruben shrugged. "Or you could stay the night?"

"Ruben."

"If you want."

He pushed you forwards, his hands moving from your legs to your ass. You gasped as his nose nudged your belly. The nerves along your spine came to life, raising the hair on your arms.

Ruben looked up, eyes drowsy. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please, yes."

You were practically begging for it, for Ruben to touch you, pleasure you anywhere that ached. He pulled you forwards his face nuzzling against his t-shirt. "You smell good."

You smiled. "I smell like you."

It felt like unfamiliar territory, a man in awe of your body, his hands moving all over you.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes."

Ruben had gone to raise your shirt again,  serenading any exposed skin with lingering kisses.

"You have to tell me if you're not comfortable with what I'm doing."

"Ruben." You raised his head, cupping his face between your hands, his rough beared between your fingers. "I want this." You nodded, not sure if you've ever wanted anything else this bad. Ruben's eyes burned in the dimmed light. "But you're hurt." He said, arms wrapping around your body, craving something that he couldn't have. Forbidden fruit.

"Fuck me with your mouth then."

Ruben looked up, his eyes batting in suprise. You met his gaze, biting your lip.

"I'm sure."

It's all he needed to hear. Ruben's hands suddenly become less gentle. They had previously moved around the area where it ached the most, but with your permission he slid a hand up your thighs, not stopping until you drew a sharp breath.

"Yes, baby. That's the spot isn't it?"

It was filthy. Whatever was unraveling between you seemed forbidden, meant to be kept behind close doors.

"Y/N, say you want this."

"I want this."

Ruben slid fingers between your folds, moving to please the aching burn that had its epicentrum at the tip of your clit.

"Tell me what to do?" He demanded, his hand not rubbing you fast enough.

"Please, fuck me Ruben."

"Fuck you how?"

You threw your head back, the pleasure immense. "Fuck me with your mouth."

It was wet and warm. Ruben's head tilted in search for your opening. Your panties had already been pushed to the side, revealing the part of you that needed his attention the most. "Yes." Your cried, almost loosing your footing to the pleasure that shot through your body, head to toe. "Yes, Ruben, just like that."

He groaned below you, his tongue helping himself to all you had to offer.

"Fuck."

Your hands went to his hair, your eyes squinting shut. Ruben had covered your clit with his mouth, gathering it between his wet lips, sucking you dry.

"Please Ruben, I'm gonna...."

It sent you over the edge, that and Ruben's rough hands reaching under your shirt, rolling your stiff nipples between his fingers.

"Yes." You cried out. Melting into a puddle of nothing as you climaxed. Ruben caught you in his arms, immediately climbing on top of you as he layed you back against his couch.

"I want to fuck you so bad right now, but I can't because you're hurt."

"No." You whimpered, your thighs wrapping around his stem, the bulge in his pants putting pressure against your sensitive pussy. "Yes, like that. Fuck me just like that."

"You sure." Ruben paused all movment, raising his head to look at you.

"I'm sure Ruben, please keep..."

You could say no more. Your shirt came off, tossed aside. Ruben then lowered his hips against yours, his hard erection aligning between your thighs. The friction between you wet pussy and his jeans would be enough to send both over the edge. And so he began, dry humping you like a horny dog.

"Please Ruben, harder and faster." You clung to him, locking your legs around his hips. Ruben groaned, his body trembling like yours. "Fuck Y/N, I don't want to hurt you."

"Por favor, Ruben, me machuque." (Please  Ruben, hurt me.)

He continued to hold back, sucking your nipples to slightly increase the pleasure. You were horny enough to be satisfied with what he was already doing to you.

"Ruben, I'm gonna...again."

Your head fell back against cuchens, mouth open, eyes rolling back in your sockets. Ruben himself moaned into the crease of your neck, with one last thrust ejaculating his load into his pants. You were both out of breath laying on top of each other, coming down from the high together. Ruben sat up once the mist of sex seized to linger. He ran a anxious hand down his face, looking less than pleased with himself. You felt strange too, a sudden need to put your panties back on. However, Ruben rose to his feet, towering over you.

"This can never happen again."

He picked up your shirt from the floor, tossing it your way. The expression on his face said it all, it was obvious regret.

"I'm calling a cab. You need to leave."

[swabian-princess]

Domestic engineer tales - cooking 101

Hey girlies, todays topic is cooking. I know many girls that are scared to start their cooking journey and I know girls that simply don't want to cook.

Well, I believe that being able to cook and to alter recipes to your liking are so so important! It saves money in the long run, is healthier than take out and men are impressed!

I remember one instance: my bf and I were together for around 1,5 years at that time and I surprised him with a simple meal - chickenbreast with mushroom-cream-sauce on Tagliatelle. Everything but the Tagliatelle was made from scratch. He was so impressed - he literally told me a few months later, that he fell even more in love with me on that day.

I had professional cooking lessons for the majority of my schooltime and I like to believe that I'm a good cook! That's why I thought it would be nice to have some tips and tricks for you all!

1. If you want a meal to taste more like garlic do this: don't add the garlic in the beginning, instead just right before your meal is finished cooking. That adds way more garlic flavour!

2. Never overstir your pancake or cookie dough batter! It makes the finished products dense and a little bit stale - everything we don't like! Stir your batter just long enough, you shouldn't be able to see big patches of flour (a little is fine) and that's usually the perfect mixture!

3. Always let your dough rest! Especially yeast dough but also pasta and dumpling dough. This makes the dough more tender and easier to work with. If your recipe states a specific rest time - always follow the instructions!

4. If you want to make hot lemon water for health benefits make sure that your water is not boiling. If it's to hot for too long it will destroy all the nutrients and vitamins in the lemon!

5. If you're working with yeast - make sure that your liquids aren't too hot! This will kill the yeast (doesn't matter if instant or not) and your dough won't rise!

6. Don't use normal olive oil for cooking. Olive oil easily burns at a still low temperature and this can lead to a bitter taste. It's better for cold salad dressings or as a seasoning!

7. Your stove has different settings on purpose! You don't need to blast the highest setting all the time - this often leads to food that's burned on the outside and raw in the middle. I'm gonna take pancakes as an example: put your stove on middle heat, put a little bit oil in your non stick pan and wait 3-5min for your pan to heat up. Once your pan is hot enough (test it with your hands above the pan), take some kitchen towels and take off all the excess oil in the pan. Lastly, pour in your pancake batter and watch how your pancakes will cook to perfection instead of being burned and still full of liquid on the inside!

Lots of love

Selene

[pigeontrash]

Sebaciel omegaverse part 4?

So I'm posting the Pregnant Sebastian headcannons. Might be bit out of character but oh well

Neither Sebastian nor Ciel would realize this at first. Both thought that idea of producing half-human half-demon offspring was impossible so the concept of pregnancy never crossed their minds

What would tick them off would be comments from other servants about a change of Sebastian's scent when he was around 4-5th month.

After that, they would connect the dots. Neither Sebastian got his heat/ Ciel got into a rut*, Sebastian's physical appearance changed slightly, and now both of them realized that Sebastian's scent became softer with a hint of milky smell that meant only one thing: He was pregnant.

They both panicked at that revelation. What would the society say, after all relationship between master and servant is very inappropriate, but also what that child would be. But after that initial panic passed both were ultimately quite happy. Both of them.

With that revelation, Sebastian was made to step down from his butler duties at least a bit. But that did not stop him completely, he more or less became a housewife. The rest of the servants teased him about it a bit, but ultimately they were happy for both him and their young master. All of them tried their best to not mess up while doing their work.

While one would think that pregnancy would be easy on Sebastian because he is a demon after all it was not. It still was easier on him than on regular humans, but for Sebastian being pregnant with a possibly human-demon baby meant accommodating human needs that he did not pay too much attention to. Providing nutrients from the human food, having to rest and because he is not immune to it, the pain that came with changes during pregnancy. Morning sickness, swollen feet, joint pain. Unfortunately, Sebastian had to suffer a bit.

But with pregnancy craving came one that he welcomed. A thirst and ultimately need for blood. The demon part of the baby had to be satisfied too, and for that Ciel allowed Sebastian to drink his blood to feed Sebastian.

Sebastian himself does not care too much about it until his bump starts showing. Both he and Ciel are fascinated with it. And the more time passed the more both of them paid attention to it. Sebastian casually rests his hands on the bump, caressing it when the little one inside him is fussing and kicking. Ciel too loves to pay attention to it, caressing the bump, poking back when he sees little feet prints, and wrapping his arm around it when in bed. One could call it too much, but he refuses to be like his parents and he will give all his attention to his child from the beginning.

Around 5th month his bump started showing and he was still wearing his butler uniform, but then Ciel requested Nina to sew some clothing for his pregnant omega. ( She was stunned that Sebastian was the one pregnant between the two) For the rest of the pregnancy, Sebastian was mostly wearing very fancy dress shirts looking like rich housewife

.When someone points out the state Sebastian is in he is not ashamed about it. He is very proud of himself and when someone tries to bring up the fact that he was a butler to his mate Sebastian just says something along the lines of “I was true, how lucky I am to be able to provide my master with an heir” in rather sarcastic tone and goes to Ciel to be his arm candy. That is a clear signal to Ciel what is going on. And being the alpha from high society, Ciel does not take disrespecting his mate lightly.

Because he had to eat human food Bard would find him snacking in the kitchen. He would test Sebastian for it, but after that, he would also try to learn what was that the demon was craving and make sure that this thing or the supplies to make the dish were always in the kitchen.

In the later months of pregnancy, Sebastian would go into let’s say energy saving mode. He does not need to sleep but pregnancy started to wear him off and so he dozes off when he can. This results in both servants and Ciel spotting him “sleeping” in random places ( library, any couch, etc.) If he is in a makeshift nest then the person that spots him usually leaves him to sleep. If there is no nest they either wake him up or put some blanket around him Between 8th month and the birth, he becomes really annoyed and on edge. His demonic features show more and so he states more inside. Ciel is usually the only person allowed for longer periods of time and even requested to be by Sebastian's side because the demon became more possessive of his small alpha. 

About ruts and heats* I assume that ruts/heats happen more or less every 3/4 months. While mated if the omega is pregnant their heat cycle stops, but it also stops the rut cycle of their alpha

[vibratingskull]

A step in the right direction

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

Tags : fluff, domesticity, date, first kiss, reader is disabled

You have a full week to enjoy Thrawn presence before going back to work, what will you do ?

FemaleReader x Thrawn

You wake up to an empty bed. You blink and yawn, stretching your spine. You lay your hand on Thrawn’s side of the bed, it’s cold. He’s been up for a long time already. You yawn again and pass on your fluffy dressing gown, open the shutter to let light enter the bedroom and head to your living room.

You find Thrawn sleeping on the couch.

You don’t know why he didn’t stay in bed with you. Maybe he felt a bit ill… Also it is quite exceptional for him to sleep this late. You tug on the plaid to cover up his shoulders and kiss his cheek, enamored by the picture. His face is so relaxed like that, he looks like a true angel. You nuzzle your nose with his cheek and his eyes opens instantly, well awakened.

“Good morning, mister.” You caress a strand of hair out of his face.

“Good morning, cha’cah.” He responds with a soft tone, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. “Did you sleep well?”

No you didn’t. Even if you didn’t have a nightmare this night it doesn’t mean you didn’t have a bad dream about your trauma.

“Quite well.” You lie to not worry him.

He looks at you straight in the eyes with an indecipherable expression.

“Really?” He insists.

“Yes!” You smile for him, a broad, large smile.

He doesn’t believe you, but doesn’t insist more, leaving you your privacy.

“And you?” You divert the discussion to him, “Why sleep on the sofa when we have a fluffy mattress?”

“It was too hot for me.”

“You felt uncomfortable? You want to get rid of one of the covers?”

“Do not worry about that, Cha’cah.” He raises his head to kiss your cheek tenderly. “Let us enjoy breakfast together?” He proposes.

You prepare caff while he’s cutting a loaf of soft white bread for you. He doesn’t consume white bread, too unhealthy and not enough nutrients. You look at him taking out a portion of Spira salmon for himself and you get more and more distressed at how he’s prepping it.

“Thrawn, I do not think this is a good way to prepare fish, you're cross-contaminating every utensil.”

He looks at you with what you think is surprise in his eyes.

“This is how I always did.”

You frown in disbelief.

“Nobody ever told you it was dangerous?”

“I rarely cook with someone else present.”

“Do you usually cook? Like at all?”

“I prefer going to the mess halls or wardroom or eating the dishes the droids prepared for me.”

You shake your head, sympathetic. Apparently he is as clueless in the kitchen than in politics.

“Let me help.” 

You cut the flesh of the salmon in manageable quarters, and spread oil in a dish.

“First you're gonna cover the salmon quarters with butter and add a pinch of salt.”

He obeys as you grate a lemon over a bowl. His movements are swift and precise even if you realize he doesn’t know what he’s doing. You gave him the lemon.

“Now add the juice and the zest.” 

You take out some dill that you wash thoroughly.

“I remember your cutting skills being impeccable, mince that finely with this shallot.” 

And he does succeed, his blade techniques are immaculate. You cut lemons that you put on each quarter while Thrawn adds some crushed garlic and oil as you instructed him to.

“And now you let them cook in the oven. See? It wasn’t so bad.”

“Thank you, cooking is not one of my fields of expertise.” He wipes his hands with a dish towel. “You are more experienced than I am.”

“Not so much, I just learned a dozen of recipes by heart and play with them. That is nothing special.”

You remain standing against the counter when he takes your hand to pull you in his embrace. You hug him tight as he presses you against his warm body. He is so tall and broad, he could suffocate you without thinking about it, but his hugs are always so infinitely tender…

You sigh of contentment, head resting against his chest as he kisses the top of your head, listening to his beating heart. He is so muscular, it is criminal.

“I didn’t imagine you this affectionate.” You let out in a satisfied sigh.

“Does it displease you?”

“Absolutely not.” You hug him tighter “Keep going like that.” 

His hands caress your back and circle your shoulders in a chaste manner, cradling you gently. But your mind wanders elsewhere, being pressed against such a body awakes your desires and you can’t help but think about how thin your pajamas are, how warmth travels from his skin to yours, how you want him to devour you in one go. He’s such an athletic man, his stamina must be unmatched, it makes you drool just thinking about it.

“Thrawn…” You moan and you feel him tensing up under your touch, you part slightly from him to open your dressing gown “I am so hot suddenly, you want to… help me out?” you mewl.

He smiles lightly and closes back your gown, much to your dismay.

“Thrawn?”

“Do not worry, cha’cah. Everything is okay.”

You try to reach his lips and he stops you, pressing his hand on your mouth. You growl in response.

Why?

“Not now, cha’cah. Let me do it my way, I want it to be perfect.” He licks the tip of your nose, and you hear a faint purr starting.

He presses you back against him and you feel the vibration of his purr through the tender flesh of your cheek.

“Promise?” You ask, full of doubt.

“I promise you, cha’cah. You will not have to wait long still.”

“How long?” You press, at the end of your patience and on the verge of explosion.

“My, my, are you not an impatient one?” He lowly chuckles.

“I have been waiting for you for ten years.” You deadass respond.

“I know.”

What?

“You… You knew?” 

“Of course.”

You look at him with eyes round like saucers and embarrassment settling in.

“You think I did not notice how warm you get standing next to me? That I never noticed how you crossed your legs in a desperate attempt to calm down your burning core? How squeamish you became when talking to me? Do you think I am blind?” He murmurs in your ears, licking the outer shell with the tip of his warm tongue.

You gasp feeling the warm wet limb caressing your sensitive skin.

“You think I was unconscious when you tried to kiss me in the library?” he keeps teasing you.

You feel your whole body burning with desire and your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“You were awake?!” you choke.

“I was.” He blows at your ear, his hand slowly going down your body, “You did well to stop in time.”

“Or… Or what?” all your words crash in your mouth.

“Or I would not have been accountable for my actions.”

Does… Does that mean that he would have had you on the table like that or that he would have manhandled you to stop you?

“Me… Meaning?”

“Do not fret about it, cha’cah. You stopped just in time, and that was for the best for both of us.” He nibbles your ear.

“Okay…” You say a bit relieved and a bit afraid.

He keeps playing with your ear, teasing you as he chuckles and you can’t refrain your yelps under his touch.

“So… When you proposed we sleep in the same bed, you were playing with me?”

“No. I would not have disrespected you like that. It was just the most practical solution.” He caresses his fingers through your hair.

“But if you knew, why not come to me sooner? Why wait ten years?”

“You were too young for me.”

You pout at the revelation, frowning your eyebrows and pursing your lips.

“Do not look at me like that, cha’cah. You were barely 20 when I was already 40, I needed you to mature and grow, to flourish into the great woman you are today.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t count me as a possibility because I was “too young”.” You wince

“Nobody was a possibility at that time.”

“And now?”

“Now there is only you.” He kisses your closed eyelids.

His hand caresses your lower back, ever so slightly sliding the tip of his fingers past the hem of your little short. You inhale sharply at the sensation of his warm palm against your colder skin.

“Thrawn…” You moan again as his other hand slides under your shirt to caress your back.

“Mmh?” He murmurs, eyes closed as he rests his chin on the top of your head.

“I want you.” You confess.

“Me too, cha’cah.” He kisses your forehead and tugs on your shirt to reclothe your properly “But I should not get your hopes up.”

He kisses your forehead one last time and parts from you to take out the salmon out of the oven, leaving you arms dangling, mouth agape and craving for more.

“Breakfast is ready.” He announces and he starts serving the quarters.

You sit down, body boiling and mind bubbling. You eat little mouthfuls, hands trembling, you were so close to have him but he cockblocked you last second. 

Two times!

He takes a bite and his pupils widen instantly.

“This is delicious.” 

“I am happy you like it.” You try to smile through your distress.

You both remain silent for the rest of the meal but under the table he slides his feet to caress yours. Your bite almost fell out of your fork as he plays footsie with you with the sternest expression, completely unbothered.

You finish your meal as best you can trying not to flush furiously.

“Do you have something planned for today?” He asks you out of the blue.

“Hum, not especially. It was supposed to be a slow day today.”

“Good. I will be taking you shopping this afternoon.” He says standing up to clear the table.

“For what occasion?” You ask, surprised.

“I am taking you to the Pinnacle tonight. I have a table reserved for us two.” He casually explains.

Your last bite took a wrong turn.

“The Pinnacle? But you have to wait more than ten months to have a table booked here!”

“Do you think I came to see you unprepared?” He raises his eyebrow like it was obvious “We are booked for 20h.” He kisses your temple and leaves you to take a shower.

You await your turn, legs dangling off the bed, squirming like a little girl. A dinner at the Pinnacle? As a first date? He really goes strong! You giggle to yourself, excited like a child, you feel like 16 again. You let yourself lay down on the bed, listening to the water running next door and realize that there is only a thin wall separating you from his mighty naked body. Instantly your imagination starts running wild, remembering the time you spied on him at the waterfall and how good he looked at the lake with only his boxers on. You bite your lower lips, you’re way to horny for your own good.

With devious hopes you knock on the door and he invites you to enter the bathroom, you open the door in a swift movement and are immediately disappointed.

He’s already fully clothed.

Blast.

“A problem?” He asks innocently.

“No.” You pout, better chance next time.

He put on a white chemise, a waistcoat and black pants, one of his three civilian outfits. You realize he’s applying his red eyeliner under his eyes. You observe the very meticulous brush actions on his blue skin. You’re absolutely fascinated.

“You want to help me?” He asks gently.

“I can?” you’re surprised and caught unaware.

He hands you the brush and the pigment and takes a chair to sit as you delicately manipulate the brush to adorn his beautiful face. You hold your breath, careful to not make a clumsy movement and ruin the make up. He lets you do, fully trusting you with his eyes closed, you trace the lines of his favorite pattern under his lower eyelids, trying to replicate it the best you can. 

You’re so close to one another, you feel his breath on your chin and he must feel your on his closed eyelids. You gently hold his cheek to prevent him from moving, feeling the warmth spreading through your palm.

“It’s almost finished.”

“You can add some modifications if you want.” He tells you softly.

“I can?”

“Of course, you really progressed with your makeup techniques these last few years. I will be your canvas for today, be creative.”

“If I do it, you will do mine?” You propose.

“As you wish.”

You add scrolls and dots of red with the brush and a gradient burgundy eyeshadow that melt in the marvelous blue of his skin and outline it all with some golden eyeliner, giving him a sharp look.

He takes the time to observe himself in the mirror, looking at every angle.

“It is successful.”

“You like it?” you ask full of hopes.

“I do.” He confirms “Take your shower and I will paint your visage.” He tells you with a soft smile.

You undress and enter the shower, and immediately scream in pain. Thrawn comes back running, knocking at the door.

“Cha’cah? Is everything alright?”

You open the door violently, shaking.

“What kind of shower do you take?! It is scorching hot, I burned my entire body!” You fulminate, still feeling the bite of the boiling water on your skin.

He passes his hand under the water without wincing.

“Is it? I find it quite relaxing.” He seems confused.

“Relaxing?!” You repeat astonished “This water is well over 60°!”

“I am sorry, I will remember it.”

No taking showers after Thrawn, noted! He looks in your direction and immediately looks away like he is embarrassed.

“Could you please put on your nightgown instead of simply hiding behind that thin towel?” He makes the conscious effort not to look at you.

You look down at yourself, realizing you're just holding the towel in front of you, barely hiding your bare body before his eyes. You were so taken by surprise you didn’t cover yourself better.

“Out, mister!” You order, indicating the door.

He silently exits the bathroom and you take a nice, COLD shower. 

You dress up and let him enter back to do your makeup. You could fall asleep under his gentle brush strokes, it’s like a facial massage. You give him total control, letting him have his fun as he did to you. You relax under his warm, careful hands.

“There. What do you think?”

You turn to the mirror and gasp. That is not how you do your makeup at all, it is a totally different technique but the result is so… Exotic.

“Oh wow.” You let out, approaching your face to the glass.

“I tried to match our makeup.” He explains.

“I love it, actually.” You admit, admiring your profile. “When did you learn all those techniques?”

“We use makeup to express our affiliation to a family early on in our life.” He informs, tidying the makeup case. “Shall we go?” He turns to you with sparkling eyes.

You take his hand and head to the department stores of Coruscant.

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

You quickly found THE dress. You saw it in a shop window on a mannequin and dragged Thrawn into the boutique. This is a marvelous long, velvety dark green dress that hides your mechanical legs, which the other dress didn’t. With off, flared shoulders and a twirl of fabric drawing scrolls and roses on the skirt you can’t help but twirl in front of the mirror while Thrawn refuses an nth glass of champagne proposed by the employees.  You pull on the skirt to observe your legs. They are only practical and crude, not at all made for a fancy setting and you’re afraid they might spoil your fun. You know they allow you to walk again but you can’t help but hate them a bit.

“Do you like this dress?” Thrawn asks, slouching on a sofa like a king.

“Yes! It is beautiful! I love it!” 

You take the tag and choke at the price. It’s worth more than 5 months of your paycheck. 

“Ouch!”

“A problem?”

“Yes, the price. I don’t have the salary for it” You wince.

You take a final look at you in the mirror, appreciating how it hugs your forms and accentuate your complexion. Too bad…

“You are not paying that.” He simply says.

You turn to him, outraged.

“Thrawn, I won’t let you pay for that dress, it’s unaffordable!”

“Not for me.” And like that he summons an employee with the snap of a finger. “We will take that dress, do you have any set of jewels that would accord with it?”

“Thrawn!” You say, choked and embarrassed.

“Of course, sir.” The employee bows “I will show you our jewelry. Right this way.”

You’re being ushed back to the changing room with a female employe to help you dress and undress, she meticulously folds the dress and put it in a velour box and hand it to you with a broad smile.

You join back Thrawn observing the shiny jewels, listening to the advice of the employee, giving him the different carat of each piece. You take him by the arm and drag him to the side.

“ Thrawn, what are you doing?”

“I am paying you a dress you love?” He responds equally confused.

“Thrawn, this dress and those jewellery are prohibitively expensive! You can’t be serious?”

“I am always serious.” He drily answers “Why you do not want me to pay for you?”

“Because… Because…” Your mouth suddenly dries.

“Does it remind you of him?” He tilts his head.

You dig your nails in your palms, uneasy. Nather used to buy things he loved, not really caring for your comfort or taste.

“In a sense… Yes.” You let out in a shaky breath.

“Then what if I buy them on credit?” He holds his chin thinking.

“What?”

“I pay for you today, and you will repay me in the future. Would it be more comfortable for you?”

That… could work…

“I… Yes. I would prefer that.”

He delicately holds your chin and kisses your forehead.

“Let us choose those jewels, then.”

He brought you back to the jewel stall and helps you choose diamonds you truly like. It makes you feel dizzy to wear something so pricey, what if you broke them or lose them somewhere? 

You finally settle for an orichalk necklace that mimics a grapevine with little shiny diamonds as flowers here and there and a pair of chandelier earrings. You don’t even ask the price, it’s better for your heart to wait a bit.

Next stop is finding a costume for Thrawn and it is proven more difficult, no stores can accommodate his stature, it’s always too short or too tight and uncomfortable While he chooses and tries different ones you're tapping away on your comlink to find the next boutique. You’re going back to him when you localized a tailor down the road while an employee that just took his measurements embarrassedly admits they don’t have his size.

“We’ll have more chances at the next one.” You cheer him up. “We’ll have to exit the department store tho.”

“I am not worried.” He simply says, gentlemanly carrying your bags.

“It’s a little boutique but surely they would have more choice, those are artisanal costumes they should accommodate a wider range of bodies and… Thrawn?” You look where he standed to realize he’s not here anymore.

You turn back on your track and find him looking at a shop window. As you approach you realize it’s a wedding boutique, displaying their wedding dresses. His face is stern and calm but his gaze his fixed on the white fabric.

“You… Want to enter?” You ask, a bit shyly.

“No. That would be premature.” He shakes his head.

You look at the beautiful dresses. A glimpse into the store lets you see happy couples trying on the dresses and costumes, you hear laughter and joy. 

You feel his hand sliding in yours and intertwining your fingers.

“Shall we go?” He asks 

You nod with a smile and you walk out hand in hand. You’re on a little fluffy cloud. You press yourself against him and squeeze his hand as you feel lighter and lighter, giggling like a little girl.

“Why are you laughing?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“Nothing. I am just happy to be with you.” You broadly smile.

He squeezes back your hand in a dignified silence and you reach the little boutique.

It is a charming little room with false wood packed full with clothes and fabrics of all sorts. 

“What do you might want?” the Mirialan tailor asks behind his counter, working on a vest.

“I am searching for a tail coat.” Thrawn explains.

“And several civilian outfits.” You add, taking out a waistcoat off a shelf.

They both look at you, Thrawn with questions in his eyes, he only searched for a costume but you feel like this boutique could finally complete his wardrobe.

The old man stands up with his tape measure.

“Let’s see what we are working with.”

While Thrawn gots his measurement taken for the nth time today you rummage through the shelfs, hangers and mannequin.

“You are quite tall and large sir, I see why you had trouble finding a costume to your measure.” The tailor comments, unphased.

“You have something for him?” you ask.

“No.”

“Oh…” You lower your shoulders, disappointed.

“I will need to do some touch up on my costumes. You’re lucky I am quite quick at it.”

“So you can do something for us?” You inquire full of hopes.

“Yes. But searching a costume for the same day is a stupid idea.” He berates.

“We are busy people.” Thrawn explains.

“That’s what they all say, and who do they come crying to after? Me.”  The tailor grumbles, “Choose your costumes, I will touch them up.”

You have fun having Thrawn trying on chemises and vests, you try different fabrics, different colors, different shades.

“Is the buttons to your liking?” The tailor asks.

“Yes?” You respond unsure “They’re just buttons…”

“That’s where you’re wrong lil’miss” He chastises you very seriously “Buttons make or break the entire character of a costume, you have to harmonize them with the fabric, the shades, whether or not you wear rings… You don’t happen to wear rings, do you?” He turns to Thrawn.

“No I do not.”

“So those are not the correct ones.” 

He opens a very, very large drawer with a complete collection of different types of buttons.

“Oh I like those ones!” you indicate.

“I am gonna make the call if you don’t mind.” He responds, grumpy.

This man doesn't like to be told how to do his job visibly. You go back to Thrawn who’s looking for different pants.

“Find something that tickles your fancy?” 

“Perhaps.” 

“You are darn lucky I had hems to each of my pieces!” The tailor shouts from the other side of the workshop.

You pout, looking in his direction before showing your finding to Thrawn. You tried to add some pastel colors to his wardrobe but he isn’t as keen as you.

“Try it on again.” The tailor comes back with the black tail-coat.

“Already?” You ask dumbfounded?

“You think I am some kind of newbie?”

Thrawn reappears with the tail coat, suiting him perfectly. For all his bad behaviors this tailors really know his work. It's really impressive.

“Woaw.” You let out.

“Do you like it?” Thrawn asks you, observing himself in the mirrors.

“I mean… You have such a figure in this. Do you like it?”

“It seems proper to me.” He flattens the black vest on his gray waistcoat.

The buttons the tailor choosed are, indeed, better.

“Try those ones.” He gives Thrawn black costume shoes. “You know how to accord those?”

“The belt?” Thrawn answers.

“Indeed, remember: the belt with the shoes, the tie or the scarf with the clutch and never, and I mean NEVER more than 3 colors or tone on tone. If you follow those rules you should be good.”

“They didn’t tell us that at the department store.” You think out loud.

“Of course they didn’t. They burn your eyes with glitters and gold but they don’t even know the first thing about tailoring.” He grumps, tidying the clothes you didn’t choose.

You exchange a glance with Thrawn, this man takes his art very, very seriously.

“I’ll send you your touched up clothes in two weeks.” He informs, folding the tail coat in a small briefcase and putting the waked shoes in a box. He hands you a large bag and pretty much shoos you out of the boutique.

“Well, that was an experience.”

“You think? I think I appreciate this man.” Thrawn responds deadpan. “But he was right, finding a costume for the same day was risky.”

“Well, we got one. And you look absolutely gorgeous in it, so I’m not complaining.” You rise to kiss his cheek.

You feel him shiver at the contact of your lips and a low purr starts.

“I love when you purr. This is soooo… Adorable.” You nuzzle your nose to his cheek.

“Glad you appreciate this quirk of mine.” He takes your hand and guides you back to your ship.

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

Thrawn gallantly opens the flying car’s door to you and extends his hand for you to take support, you’re in no heels so you don’t need to but you still take his hand. He escorts you under the shining lights of the Pinnacle, everything is golden and sparkly and you can hear classical music coming from the dining rooms inside. You walk on the marble floor, trying not to slip on your long dress concealing your hideous mechanical legs. All around you the guests are as prestigious as Thrawn, you recognize Governors, Ambassadors, Moffs and you’re almost afraid you’ll cross paths with Tarkin. The footman guides you two to your table and the decadence starts. They brought you different entree and side dishes to start with numerous types of exotic breads.

How are you supposed to eat a full course dinner with so many plates? You’re only at the first entrees and you’re already practically full. You try your best to keep your manners in check to not shock anyone around you while Thrawn is more relaxed, his naturally elegant manners are surely not a problem for him.

“I think I am already full.” You sigh when you see another entree of vegetables is brought to your table.

“I told you not to eat too much at noon.” Thrawn grins slightly, taking a sip of water from his crystal glass.

“I was under the impression that the chic restaurants’ portions were ridiculously small.”

“You have been proven wrong.”

He keeps to plain water while you indulge in pricey champagne and wines, but knowing the place it must be pure source water of some mountain somewhere. You observe the dining room you’re in, it imitates the rococo style of some former human empire you don’t really know much about, Thrawn knows however and you let him narrate every style choices of the architecture and its cultural meaning. Him who’s usually so silent speaks so much when it comes to art and you gladly shut up and listen to his deep melodic voice explaining to you why the crystals of the chandelier are of such color and not another one. You eat all his words up, asking questions to keep him going and he gladly answers, serving you long tirades as you eat your expensive seafood.

The room is circular with a dance floor at the center, circled by the dinner tables. The musicians are on a balcony, presiding over the dining room. The floor is a waxed, shiny wooden floor supporting different white stone columns. The walls are white with golden moldings and decorations of  nymphs and fauns.

The food is delicious, rich and creamy, melting on your tongue. You almost moan of pleasure at each bite. This is so good!

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Thrawn asks softly.

“This is a delicious soiree, Thrawn. Thank you so much.” You smile brightly at him.

“My pleasure.” 

Finally the main courses are coming, the dinner finally advances.

The waiters brought you your dish under a cloche for the reveal. They come in perfect synchrony and rise up the cloche.

Your smile dies down and your stomach sinks immediately.

Meat…

You feel a cold sweat down your spine and nausea rise.

Not meat.

Everything but that.

Since that revelation…

“I said no meat for us.” Thrawn immediately warns the waiters with an icy cold tone. “Send it back immediately.” The tone calls for no discussion and the waiters turn back with the dishes in their hands, apologizing profusely.

One of the butlers sees you sending back the plates and comes checking in.

“Is everything alright Sir and Ma’am?”

You just take your napkin to your mouth, holding your stomach uncomfortably.

“No.” Thrawn answers darkly, “I specifically asked for no meat dishes for me and my fiance when I reserved and one still managed to find its way to us.”

“I am truly sorry Sir, it is intolerable. I will castigate my teams as they deserve. Maybe another bottle of wine free of charge would appease you?” He commercially proposes.

“I need fresh water…” You weakly inform.

“Of course, Ma’am. Right away.” And like that, he is gone.

Thrawn extends his open hand to you. You weakly meet him with yours, trembling.

“Are you alright, Cha’cah?” He gently asks, with worry in his eyes.

“I… I think it will pass.” You say as the malaise slowly dissipates.

You can’t touch meat since that day… You can’t even smell it without being violently sick.

“I am sorry, do you want some fresh air on the patio?”

“No… No, it’s good.” You deeply breath in and out, searching for another subject to take your mind off of it “Say, what does “cha’cah”means? It isn’t the first time I hear you say it.”

“Well, “ He smiles enigmatically, caressing your finger with his “In cheuhn it means “beloved” or “most dear”.” 

You feel your cheeks heating up instantly, you almost want to hide your face behind the menu.

“Oh…”

“Does it displease you?” He tilts his head.

“No! No at all.” You reassure him. “It is… It’s an honor for me to be called such by you.” You say embarrassed and heart puffing up with love.

He leans over to gallantly kiss your hand. You feel your heart on the verge of explosion.

“I am glad.”

“Can I give you a pet name too?”

“Of course, I would be honored.”

“Love?”

“I would be most touched.”

“Darling?”

“It sounds sweet to my ears with your voice.” He caresses your hand fondly.

The butler comes back with a jug full of water and ice and a second one with an expensive red wine bottle.

“Would this appease the worries we caused you?”

Thrawn takes the bottle to check it.

“It is acceptable.” He just responds, keeping them on their toes for what they’ve done to you “Bring me some fruit juice, I am tired of water.”

The butlers bow down and leave you for your dinner.

Red fish is brought to you with a creamy herbal sauce. You eat slower to not upset your sensitive stomach and you still feel yourself trembling a bit. Thrawn serves you another champagne glass when his juice reach your table.

“I would like to raise toast.” He announce to you.

“Oh!” You take your glass in hand, “In what honor?”

“Yours. I did not have the time to congratulate you for your recent promotion.”

That’s right! 

Your promotion to Commander.

You were so excited to see Thrawn for a week you completely forgot about that.

“Is that why you asked for juice?” You cheekily ask.

“I was not envisioning myself raising a toast with plain water.” He humbly confesses “I am happy to be able to celebrate it at your side tonight, cha’cah. My congratulations, you deserve it.”

You clink your crystal glasses and take a sip.

“Would you offer me this dance?” He asks standing up.

Your sip almost goes the wrong way.

“I… Right now? Here?”

“Yes.” He looks you in the eyes, resoluted.

“Its just… I only managed to walk with those legs, I’m not sure I can…”

“A good thing is the man who leads, then. Take support on me, Cha’cah, I will hold you firmly.”

You take his hand after hesitation and you walk to the center of the room, where other couples are already dancing. He places his hand firmly on your lower back, pressing you against him and takes your hand gently in his.

“We are not supposed to be this close.” You remind him with a side smile.

“What if I want you that close to me?” He responds without missing a beat and starts waltzing with you in his arms.

You twirl in your deep green dress like wings, a bit unsure of your legs at first but you quickly find your rhythm and dance with all your soul with him.

“Thrawn! You’ve been practicing?” You realize suddenly.

You remember the Academy ball, he managed to save his face for one dance but the way was long and tortuous, but now he seems so much more at ease, sure of his steps and not fighting against you.

“I asked Commodore Faro to help me.” He reveals.

You can’t help but laugh imagining them both trying to dance in Thrawn’s office, Karyn must have had so much difficulty to bring him to such a level.

“Well, she did a really great job. You are a fine dancer now.”

“Thank you.” He slightly bows his head to the compliment, “You still have it yourself.”

You dance, wrapped in the melody, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, eyes fixed on his face.

“Why such a blissful smile?” He asks, maybe a bit embarrassed to be fixed that close?

“You’re just so gorgeous.” You say unembarrassed, “And that tail coat suits you so well. You are such a handsome man I sometimes wonder how you can be real and how I managed to have you.”

He lets out a humble chuckle.

“Thank you for all those compliments. I ask myself the same questions about you.”

You feel your cheeks burning again and you press your cheek against his chest to hide your face from his gaze.

You keep turning, waltzing among the other couples, close to each other. You focus yourself on his beating heart like a soothing melody.

And finally the waltz ends.

“Follow me to the balcony.” He murmurs in your ear.

The night is fresh and the balcony is empty of people but full of flowers and plants. You caress one leaf with the tip of your finger as Thrawn closes the glass door behind you.

“(Y/n)?”

You turn to him with a little smile, awaiting fo him to speak his mind. He comes close to you and kisses your hand delicately again, his other hand comes caressing your cheek, you can’t help but lean into his palm with a contented smile.

“(Y/n)(F/n), I love you.” He says so low you barely hear him.

He presses his forehead to yours, still caressing your cheek.

“Do I have the permission to kiss you?” He asks.

Your heart skip a beat and your stomach ties itself in knots.

Your first kiss, finally.

“Do I?” He repeats at your silence.

“Yes!” You exclaim with joy and and excitation “Yes you have it!”

“Close your eyes, please.”

You close them immediately and lick your lips, ravenous, excited like a child.

“I am going to kiss you now.” He murmurs, holding both of your cheeks.

You feel his breath on your lips then an incredibly tender sensation and warmth as your lips finally meet. The kiss is soft, light, overflowing with love but you feel real fireworks in your stomach. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks and you hear yourself growling for more. You feel his lips stretch in a small smile and a faint purr starts. You circle his shoulders with your arm and hold the back of his head to deepen the kiss. He obliges and the soft kiss becomes something more, something ravenous and full of desires. You feel his hands sneaking their way in your back, pressing you together to his hot body. The purr is now loud and echoes in the night. You hungrily respond to his kiss, parting your lips for him to enter. He gently bites down your lower lips before kissing you again, entering your mouth to meet your tongue, hugging and dancing with it.

He reluctantly parts with you when he feels you panting for air, by reflex you try to follow his lips as he moves away to not end the kiss but he stops you in your track with a peck on the tip of your nose. You pant heavily, eyes darken with lust and desire and the feeling to be deprived of a tasty candy.

“There will be more.” He promises you to calm you down.

You damn well hope there will be more kisses!

But for now he gently holds you close on that fancy balcony, cradled by the sweet music and the laugh of the guests and for the first time in months you finally feel truly at peace.

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

The kisses are hungry and heavy, robbing you both of your breath. You don’t know how but he manages to open the door of the apartment without stopping to kiss you. You enter, almost tripping on one another and the door closes back to give you intimacy.

You deeply growl, burying your nails in his vest, almost tearing the expensive fabric apart. You suddenly push him down the sofa and he lends with a “oof.”. you don’t leave him time to ask questions, you straddle his laps and embrace him with your arms.

“Eager, are you not?” He manages to mock between your kisses.

“You have no idea.” You answer darkly, filled with a dark energy.

You dishevel his black blue hair, biting down his lips harshly. By instinct you start humping his thighs and moan against his lips. You feel his burning red gaze on you, embolding you.

“Do you like how I kiss you?” You ask between two kisses.

“Yes. Very much so.” He breathes in response.

He takes a fistful of your hair while grabbing your butt. You moan against his mouth, letting your hands travel south to his belt. You try to unfasten it,clumsy with your haste, shaking with excitement, but his hands come to seize yours, immobilizing them.

You look at him without understanding.

“No, Cha’cah.” He simply says “Not tonight.”

You lower your shoulders, clearly disappointed.

“Oh… Did I do something?” You worry.

“No.” He shakes his head and kisses your cheek. “This is me. I am the only one at fault.”

He keeps peppering your face with peck as you register that he just served you the bullshit “it’s not you it’s me.” excuse.

So you definitely did something. 

You must have.

But what?

Away from your inner turmoil, Thrawn captures your lips again for a softer kiss.

“Hold me close, cha’cah.” He murmurs in your ear.

So you hug him tight as he kisses your neck, his hands on your back, cradling you.

But you can’t help thoughts spinning in your head.

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

He sighs.

Tonight again he can’t bear to sleep next to you.

He feels his body tensing up and his muscles rolling under his skin. His breath is short and his heart pounds in his chest. He gives a side glance at your asleep self, face relaxed and breath deep as you sleep soundly.

He must get out of this bed, of this bedroom.

The kiss was a bad idea, he regrets it now. He takes a very needed cold shower and heads to the living room and lays down the sofa for another night again.

Away from you.

He sighs again, much more at ease and comfortable and finally drifts off to sleep.

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo, @germie2037

[makoredeyes]

Itty bitty baby Ginko Biloba sapling I started from seed about 18 months ago graduated into a bonsai training pot today mostly because I cannot focus on anything else and even though it had plenty of room in the 4” pot it had it was still in its peat moss seed starting media still and having some real soil will be good for it (helloooo nutrients!)

I was really shocked at how tiny it’s roots are for something that’s had significant growing time at this rate, especially compared to the canopy. I’m not sure if this is typical of Ginko or a product of not having very good soil so far, but it seems healthy and happy overall anyway. They’re tough trees.

(That’s it, that’s all it has for roots)

I also suspect the seed wasn’t very good. It was one of 5 I started and the only one to germinate, when they’re easy enough that if they were sent to me healthy they should have all gone no problem. But here’s the one! I have other bonsai experiments going outside (with mixed results, all looking particularly haggard rn or maybe dead idk yet because of some terrible heatwaves) so no pictures of those, but this little one is so young and tiny it lives inside in my kitchen greenhouse window where I can keep a very close eye on it.

(I gave it a friend cx )

I decided to take the time to clean up the window just a little so y’all can see I uh.

Like plants. And have a few.

Finding the poor little Ginko is like playing Where’s Waldo 😅

[greenlifeinsights]

10 Easy Ways to Start Your Sustainable Journey Today

Introduction:

Embarking on a sustainable journey doesn't require a complete overhaul of your lifestyle. In fact, small, mindful steps can lead to significant positive changes for both you and the environment. If you're new to sustainability or looking for simple ways to make a difference, you're in the right place. In this post, we'll explore ten easy steps you can take right now to kickstart your sustainable living journey.

1. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle:

The classic mantra holds true. Start by properly recycling items like paper, glass, and plastics. Before tossing something out, consider if it can be repurposed or upcycled. Reducing waste begins with conscious choices.

2. Conserve Energy:

Switch off lights and unplug devices when not in use. Opt for energy-efficient LED bulbs and appliances. Even adjusting your thermostat by a degree or two can make a difference.

3. Ditch Single-Use Plastics:

Invest in reusable shopping bags, water bottles, and coffee cups. Say goodbye to disposable utensils and straws. These small changes can significantly reduce plastic waste.

4. Choose Sustainable Transportation:

Whenever possible, opt for walking, biking, or using public transportation. Consider carpooling or investing in an electric or hybrid vehicle if it aligns with your needs.

5. Support Local and Sustainable Food:

Frequent local farmers' markets, and choose seasonal, locally sourced produce. Reducing food miles and supporting sustainable farming practices benefit both you and the planet.

6. Unplug and Disconnect:

Set aside tech-free time to reduce screen time and energy consumption. Encourage family or friends to join you in reconnecting with nature and each other.

7. Practice Mindful Consumption:

Before making a purchase, ask yourself if it's a necessity. Invest in high-quality, durable items that will last. Choose brands with a commitment to sustainability.

8. Compost Your Kitchen Waste:

Turn food scraps and yard waste into nutrient-rich compost for your garden. It's a fantastic way to reduce landfill waste and enrich your soil naturally.

9. Educate Yourself and Others:

Stay informed about environmental issues and solutions. Share your knowledge with friends and family to inspire collective action.

10. Get Involved Locally:

Engage with local environmental groups and community initiatives. Participate in clean-up events, tree planting, or sustainability workshops. Your active involvement can create positive change at the grassroots level.

Conclusion:

Remember, sustainability is a journey, not a destination. Each step you take, no matter how small, contributes to a brighter, greener future. So, start today, and together, we can make a meaningful impact. Stay tuned for more insights and tips on sustainable living from GreenLife Insights!