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peachesofteal · 7 months

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Simple Math / Part 8

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut. Graphic domestic violence, physical abuse, choking. Non consensual kissing. Hospital setting, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies. Drowning metaphors. Strong feelings of self loathing, despair, fear, anxiety. Suicidal ideation. Crying. Panic attacks. Bun is unraveling. Comfort. Protective Simon and Johnny. Things are happening.

The girl in the mirror hates you.

It’s easy to tell, by the way she stares, how her eyes glow in the yellow fluorescents of the staff bathroom.

You make her sick.

Your weakness, your stupidity, has cost her, again. As if it hasn’t cost her enough at this point, as if it hasn’t drained her dry over and over until she thought she would die.

Until she thought she wanted to die.

Someone knocks on the bathroom door.

“Occupied.” You snap, and they huff, turning away to go who knows where.

You peek back over to the girl in the mirror. She still stares at you in disdain, but now it’s more expectant, more… intrigued, like she’s asking, well… what are you going to do?

“What are you going to do, sugar?” Phillip’s hands tighten around your neck, white teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun of your apartment. The sound of your windpipe being crushed echoes inside your eardrums, and you flail uselessly, struggling, kicking and hissing and crying to no avail. “Where are you going to run next?” Black spiderweb strings along the outside of your vision, and your palm slaps against his forearm, a pathetic endeavor, as always.

He’s too strong. Too determined.

You’re an ant. He’s a shoe.

You’re an early high school grad, on an academic scholarship at school your mom couldn’t afford, and he’s the charismatic grandson of a Texan oil tycoon, the son of a judge, living in a fancy house without roommates in the city.

You want to be a doctor. He wants a housewife.

You want to be a mother; he promises to beat them out of you.

You want a life in the sun. He wants to become a shadow himself.

“Phillip.” You wheeze, air snaking through your teeth. He lowers his ear, like he can’t hear you, a mocking bow that you know he relishes.

“What’s that?”

“Can’t- breathe-“ The sigh that answers you is what you imagine a disappointed father sounds like, followed by a tsk, an over developed dramatic show that you’ve come to know so well, and he throws you to the ground in one motion, shoulder smacking against the hard wood floor.

There’s a tear of muscle. An immediate soreness. Stars dance in your vision.

“Gotta hand it to you, princess. You were hard to find this time.”

You don’t have an answer for the girl in mirror.

Even with the turtleneck and the very good makeup, it’s bad. There is no doubt, someone will notice.

And then there will be questions. Nonstop questions, personal questions, private questions. Questions from your boss and an HR rep behind a closed door somewhere, invasive, mandated reporting, logical questions that you must have answers for.

You chew your lip.

It’s not so obvious, maybe, with the turtleneck. The long sleeve under your scrub top covers the tender flesh on your neck, your shoulder, your forearm. It’s second nature, how easily you hide, how perfectly they tuck away, little stories beaten into your skin for no one else but you to feel.

Except for your orbital and cheek bones.

These are blatant. The ball cap pulled down over most of your face hid them well enough on your way in but now... inflamed, angry skin swells beneath your eye, and while it looks okay, you guess, when you get close, it’s obvious that something is wrong. The foundation and failed attempt at contour can only do so much.

It’s shocking to realize you’re actually mad at him for it.

For being so impulsive.

So sloppy.

But then again, wasn’t that your fault?

You’re bold. Bolder than ever before. Closer to the top of your breaking point now, angry and beaten down and dying in the black of a bottomless pit. Unable to escape. Unable to climb out.

You’ve been falling inside it for years, and it’s all you ever do.

Fall.

And you’re so, so tired. All you want, is for it to end.

“That was sick, even for you, Phillip. What are you, some kind of freak? Jerking off all over your ex girlfriend’s-“ The backhand is swift. It rockets across your face, combination of it’s force and the sting making your head spin, and you stumble.

When you lurch, he presses close, chest to your side, strong fingers digging into your forearm so tight it hurts.

“Don’t say that.” His lips drag across your cheek, insult to injury where he struck you. They press together in a kiss, a foul, rancid piece of affection, making your stomach turn.“You know I don’t when you call yourself that. I don’t like when you lie, sweet thing. It’s not very nice.”

“It’s not a lie, you Texarkana hillbilly fuck, it’s the tru-“ You’re up against the wall in a single movement, arm twisted so hard you cry out, and he shoves you into place until he’s got you where he likes, face to face, nose to nose.

“There’s my spitfire. Knew she was in there somewhere.” The nickname almost makes your retch. It’s a flicker of a memory, of yourself before the grave of your now life, the fateful twist that is Phillip Graves.

“I hate you.” You spit. His eye twitches, and he looks every bit the insane man you know him to be.

Because this... this is Phillip having fun. This is Phillip playing with his food. Phillip and his toy.

This is not Phillip’s crazed rage. This is not suit and tie Phillip, rip your hair out from the roots Phillip, beat you until you’re unrecognizable Phillip.

This isn’t the Phillip who slaughters innocent people. Who murders entire towns for pleasure.

For a very short moment, your mind drifts to Simon and Johnny. You wonder what they’re doing right now, if they’ve already had their lunch, if Penny visited today. If maybe she napped with her Da safe and snuggled, sweet and asleep dreaming of sugar plums. You think about the light in Johnny’s eyes from last night, the way he looked at his daughter, and Simon, and even you. You remember the press of Simon’s mask covered lips on your forehead, a sweet, comforting piece of affection that you’ve already locked inside your heart.

You float there. In those feelings, those memories.

You wish they were here. You wish they could help you.

The acknowledgement is terrifying. It happens so fast, hardly a second, but in that time, horror shivers down your spine.

You’d put them in danger, for yourself. Your selfish, stupid self.

Phillip’s mouth hovers over yours, and you swallow the gag rising in your throat.

“I can’t stay.” He whispers, pseudo-gentle kisses adorning your nose, your cheek again. “It’s really rotten luck, honestly, you showing back up here today. I was just saying my see you laters.” You’re not religious, but the thoughts come easily regardless. Oh god, thank god. Thank fucking god. You have a chance.“I know you’ll be here when I get back, won’t you? I’m tired of chasing you around the world, sugar.” He gives you another wet, closed lip kiss, and your jaw trembles. “If you’re not, it’ll be that much worse for ya.”

You can do this.

It’s not anything you haven’t done before.

Deep breath. You can do this.

Stepping outside the bathroom is like taking your first steps as a child. You’re slow, pushing through the burn in your side, the sore agony in your shoulder, the torn cartilage you’re sure is the cause the of the pain in your shoulder.

You can do this.

Get it together. Get yourself together. You’re not going far.

You make it down the hall without running into anyone, and once you reach the on-call room, you’re breathing long sighs of relief, sliding the lock into place after the door shuts behind your back.

Two black duffels sit on the floor, staring at you. Mocking you, just like the girl in the mirror.

What are you going to do?

The receptionist is calling your name.

You ignore her, trying to make it to the elevators, almost breaking into a run even though you’re in pain, your face throbbing, neck sore beyond belief.

“Sorry, can you-“ Intercepted on your path, she gasps. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“I was mugged.” It’s a point-blank response, even though you sound like a frog or a piece of roadkill, and it brokers no argument. You look at her with the flattest gaze imaginable, dissuading her from saying anything else.

“I- I’m sorry. We’ve been trying to call you.” The hair on the back of your neck rises.

“For what?”

“We need your room. There’s been a block reserved, and it includes the floor you're on. I'm... sorry.” You’re not able to contain your shock, mouth dropping open, heart cracking into tiny pieces.

On top of everything. Now this.

The receptionist peeks at you nervously, waiting on pins and needles for a response.

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning, I’m afraid. I’m so sorry. The hotel apologizes, the block is paying for a higher rate and-“

“It’s fine, really. I needed to check out anyway.” You know it’s not her fault. Hell, you’d be surprised if it wasn’t the hotel’s fault either. It’s not like Phillip wouldn’t move heaven and earth to force you out of hiding. He's more than capable of finding out where you’re staying.

She gives you another apologetic look before scurrying away, and the elevator doors finally enclose around you, a tidal wave of despair swelling in your heart, dropping you to your knees with gut wrenching sobs.

You’re crying again. Curled up in the on-call bed, your shoulders shake in hysteria, tears and panic overwhelming everything you have left, swallowing you until you can’t see the surface anymore.

Your throat burns. Breathing is like rubbing sandpaper down the back of your tongue, and you wheeze when you try to take deep breaths, shoulder shrieking in misery every time you shift.

You have to get it together. You have to work in an hour.

But you can’t. You dig deep and try, desperately working to pull something forward, something sane and controlled, but there’s nothing to be found, only acid in your throat. The hysteria mounts. It catches the wind and flies down the hill, crashing into you over and over until your hands are clenched together so tight, even they hurt.

You fucking idiot. You waited too long. You ran out of time.

You’re dead.

“Oh my god.” Nia covers her mouth, eyes wide. You hold up a palm.

“It looks way worse than it actually is.” Another nurse peeks around her shoulder, and gasps.

“What happened to you?”

“I was mugged yesterday, getting off the train.”

“Oh my god!”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Did you tell the police?”

“Yes, I did.” You assuage them to the best of your ability, reassuring their worry. “I filed a report, and they didn’t get anything important. I’m okay. Really.” And then the kicker: “I would tell you if I wasn’t.” You glance at everyone, four or five now, gathered around, and lay on the final piece of the puzzle. False familiarity and the ever present desire to be relevant. “Wouldn’t I, Nia?” You gesture around to expectant faces as if to say, tell them, and she readily agrees.

“Yeah, she totally would.”

Everyone pretty much leaves you alone after that. Patients need checks, meds, all of the usual stuff. You assure Nia once more in private, promising that you’re okay, and she reluctantly leaves you alone too, once you swear up and down.

The only thing that doesn’t leave you alone, is your cellphone.

>Hey, just wanted to check in, see how your day off was yesterday?

>Bunny :)

There are a few others, alternating like above, Simon first, then Johnny. Asking if you got some rest, if you’re okay, and then a promise not to push.

You ignore them.

You ignore the feeling in your chest at the sight of their incoming text messages, the proof of their care.

You ignore the way it feels to know they’re only a floor below you.

You ignore the fact that when you got here today, all you wanted to do was run to Johnny’s room and settle in that chair next to his bed, curl up close to them, where there’s love, where there’s warmth.

You ignore it at all.

Get it together. You have a job to do.

Simon appears at the pit three hours into your shift. There’s no one around, everyone trying to take breaks, cover breaks, or deal with whatever emergency is happening in the moment, except you.

And when you round the corner and spot him, waiting, it takes your breath away.

Half of your reaction is pure fear. The last thing you want is for him to see you like this. Beaten. Broken. Ugly.

The other half is… something pure. Something enamored. He came up here, why? Is he worried because you didn’t answer? Do they care?

Still-

You start to turn on your heel, eyes flipping wide and panic startling your heart. You’re barely a shadow, a clip of a person on the other end of the hall and yet-

“Hey, there you are.”

Fuck. The acid starts to rise all over again. You keep your face tilted down towards the floor.

Maybe you can pretend you don’t hear him. You leap back around the corner, practically running towards the on-call room, where your life sits in two black bags, waiting.

You can’t do this. You can’t face them, let them see.

Something desperate gnaws in the pit of your soul, a howl that begs you to turn back and let him in, let them both in, tell them everything.

It’s selfish, and cruel.

It’s unfair.

He calls your name. You still don’t answer. Your scrub pants swish together as you jog, trying to get away, but the effort is in vain. He’s too quick, long strides overtaking yours at a brisk walk, and just before you reach the door, he positions his body in front of the handle, an immovable wall.

There’s a long moment of silence. You stare up into his face, wide eyed, horrified.

You know what he’s seeing. A failure. A moron. A mess.

To his credit, his expression does not change. His brow does not furrow. He only stares at you, frozen, slow thawing fury finally glowing in his eyes after a centuries’ long minute.

He reaches, time standing still, the back of his fingers stroking the lightest touch against your tender cheek, and his voice is almost unrecognizable behind the mask when he snarls,

“Who did this to you?”

The tears come in a flood. You don’t understand why the breakdown comes in this moment, why everything crashes into a million little pieces, until you feel a strong, careful arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a broad, warm chest, face tenderly nestled into a black hoodie. It feels… safe. Like a home you haven’t had in a long, long time. Like something you never thought you’d feel again.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness. Maybe it’s your downfall, another thing for the girl in the mirror to be angry with you about, you’re not sure. You’re not sure about anything except this feeling, this feeling that lights up your heart in an explosion of fireworks, fear and panic and anxiety soothing into sadness, into a homesick feeling for a love, a life you’ve never had.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, when you sob his name, when you go limp against him and he holds you steady, a cheek atop your head, soft words washing over you in a whisper.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, but right now, you can’t seem to care.

Johnny is distraught.

Simon brings you into his room, still tucked into his side. He’s careful with you, telegraphing all his movements, letting you know where he’s going, reverence rich in his touch like he’s handling glass.

“What in the-“

“Bun says she was mugged.” Simon tells him, and you miss whatever is happening over your bowed head, hands shaking with nerves all over again. “She assures me she’s not hurt but-“

“I’m fine.” You croak, and Johnny jerks, mouth half open in disbelief. The light is dim, casting short shadow across his face, his sweet eyes drenched in worry, and you stand at the foot of his bed, tears waiting on your waterline. “I’m okay, they didn’t really get anything, and I-“

“Come here.” He cuts you off, raising both arms, extending them as wide as he can manage, scooting his hips to the side. It’s a feat, but he hides the grimace of pain well. When you don't budge, he repeats himself, firmly the second time. “Bunny. Come here.”

The shame burns, entrenched in you so deep, you know you’ll never be able to cut it out, and your tears fall unbidden, encouraged by the hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart, an ache that you need soothed so desperately.

You’re out of control. You’re losing your grip.

You had a moment of weakness but this… this is too much.

“Please, pretty girl.” He whispers, reaching you where no one else can. Speaking to you through the fog of your doubt, your hatred, your fear.

Your hands shake as you reach for his, and when you sit beside him, hip to thigh, he looks at you like he’s staring at someone other than the person who used to be his nurse. He’s looking at you the way you catch him looking at Simon sometimes. Bright gaze full of love. Of worry.

“I’m okay.”

“No, ye’re not.” He shakes his head. “Ye’re not. This is not okay.” The way he says it feels like he knows, like he understands, and you swallow dry, breathing ragged and shallow. It turns frantic, and he squeezes your knee gently, redirecting your attention. “Hey, shhh. It’s okay. Ye’re safe with us.” Simon sits on the arm of the chair, directly next to the bed.

“Do you need to count your breaths?” He cuts directly to the quick. Will this provide you relief? Will this stop the pain? The agony?

No.

“N-no.” You gasp.

“Okay. Just try to breathe, everything’s alright."

I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just this- this happened and then I found out I had to find a new place to stay, and I st-still haven’t, so I have to sleep in the on call room, and I don’t-“

“Whoa, okay. Slow down.” Simon soothes, hand slowly sliding up and down your spine. You relax into it, marginally, clocking the subtle upward tick of Johnny’s lips, firm line shifting into a small smile, and then turning cross.

“What do ye mean, ye dinnae have a place to stay?”

“My apartment-“ is trashed. Is a scene of a crime. Is a hollow rib cage housing a dead heart. “is being renovated so I’ve been living in a hotel,” Johnny nods, like he knows. Of course he does. What secrets do they have between? Probably none. “But someone reserved a whole block and there’s no vacancies, so I had to check out this morning.” It’s pathetic, the way you’re crying over this, the way you feel, but it’s all so forlorn in this moment, and you can't stop yourself from falling deeper and deeper into a well of despair, hopelessness dragging you to the bottom, trying to drown you. “It’s not a big deal but-“

“It is a big deal.” Johnny declares. “Ye had somethin’ horrible happen to ye, and now this on top of it?” Simon shifts, flat palm and fingers pushing down through the air, and you barely catch it from the corner of the eye. It’s the same kind of sign you give someone when you want them to slow down, and you blink.

What’re you doing?

“I… I’m fine.” You wince at the croak in your voice, last menthol infused cough drop wearing off, bringing back the raw pain in your windpipe, the gravel grit of bruising in your voice.

“It’s okay to be upset, bun. Anyone would be.” You wipe your face, chasing away the tracks of tears and trying not to wince when you straighten your back.

“I know, but I’m okay. Really.”

“Ye cannae stay in an on-call room.” What?

“Oh… it’s fine. It,” wouldn’t be the first time. “It’s not a big deal.” Simon is watching you, focused with that same blazing intensity that feels like he’s digging around inside your skull.

“Why don’t you stay with us?”

“What?” You blurt. “No. No, I… I couldn’t. It’s not-“

“Appropriate?” Simon finishes, head cocked. “Johnny isn’t your patient anymore.”

“And we have plenty o’ room. Penny’s still staying with Price’s a lot, because Simon’s here all the time, so it’d be nice and quiet for ye.” Say no. Tell them no.

“I couldn’t. It’s… you hardly know me. You’d invite me to live in your house?” Incredulously, you stare at them, flicking back and forth between two expectant, understanding faces.

“We know ye. Ye try to hide yerself from us, bun, but… ye cannae. Ye light up every room ye step foot in, and I dinnae think we would have made it through this without ye. Ye’re special to us, even if ye cannae accept it.” He winks. “Yet.”

“We want to help, sweetheart. Let us help you.” You’re between a rock and a hard place. An immovable force, and object. Two wills, locking in around you.

But instead of a cage, it’s warm. It’s gentle. It’s… safe.

“I couldn’t encroach.” You’re on autopilot, mouth making sounds that your heart protests. Simon sighs.

“You’re not encroaching. We’re inviting you.”

You would be putting them in danger.

“I… I can’t.”

“Why?” Johnny’s still got his hand on yours, and he squeezes, carefully. “Talk to us, bunny.”

“Tell us what’s really going on.” Simon is grave, and for a second, air gets stuck in your lungs, fighting to escape.

You cannot tell them. No matter what. You can’t. The turtleneck is too tight, cotton and polyester scratching at your sore skin, and you shiver.

“There… there’s n-nothing going on. What if the people that mugged me,“ come back to finish the job? Track me down? Words die on your tongue, the lamest attempt to push them back withering away. Simon is having none of it.

“We’re special forces, love. No one is going to get to you while you’re with us." He pauses, trapping you, holding you in stasis, and when he repeats himself, it's a dark vow, a promise. "No one.”

If you do this. You have to tell them.

You can trust them. They’ve proven that so far, haven’t they?

You hardly know them.

But isn’t that better?

“I…” Your hand raises instinctively to your throat, and Johnny’s eyes narrow.

“Bunny.” He leans forward at the waist, slow as to not hurt himself, and you sit, frozen, bug eyed, transfixed on his hand that are stretching towards your turtleneck.

You should stop him. You should tell him to back off. You should do something.

You can't. You don't. You sit there, waiting for the discovery. Waiting for the shame.

Once he hooks his pointer finger in the top and tugs, it’s over.

Your heart stops in your chest. Johnny burns, dragon flame and rage, incineration boiling over in his body.

“Bleedin’ christ.” He hisses.

“Fucking hell.” Simon echoes, and you close your eyes. You know the tender skin looks bad. Swollen. Angry.

“Please.” You whisper, lower lip quivering, floodgates trying to burst into pieces. “Please I… I can’t talk about it. I c-can’t, I can’t-“

“Okay, okay. Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now, sweetheart. You’re safe.” You’re crying violently, unable to see, trying to rasp out apologies, and Simon stands, tucking you back into his chest, big hand on the back of your head. Johnny keeps his touch at your back, consistent, reassuring pressure that rubs from the top of your spine down, and he hums delicate, affectionate phrases lilting in heavy Scots’.

The girl in the mirror screams at you inside your head. She calls you a fool. A coward. She tells you the truth, that you’ll only get them hurt, that you know better.

You don’t disagree with a single thing. You know all this to be true.

But for a moment… would it be so bad to indulge? To have one- two good things in your life, even if it’s fleeting. Even if you know how it will end, can you not just have this for yourself, in this suspended moment of time, this chance?

You want it. Them. So desperately, it swells and aches and tugs at you, just as they do.

Time ticks forward, and you do not pull away. You don't try to hide, or evade. You just... exist. Between them. The rock and the hard place.

“Alright?” Simon murmurs, your tears now stopped, only delicate sniffles sounding from his chest. You nod, shifting backward to take them both in.

“I… if you’ll have me, I’ll… I’ll stay, until I can find a place.” Inky dark shadow flickers across Simon’s face, but sunlight chases it away, happiness crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

“Are ye sure?” Johnny is hopeful, bright, and beautiful, and you tighten your grasp on his hand, holding it like you’ll never let go. You take a deep breath-

You take the plunge.

A moment in the sun.

“I’m sure.”

#simple math #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john mactavish #phillip graves

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oreo-creampie · 1 year

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, some hurt, HEAVY COMFORT, slightly suggestive, suguru bites you once, soaping up suguru's body, hinting at height/size difference, hints at smoking and drinking with suguru, toji doesn't die, NO! he lives with you his wifey and learns how to help you look after megumi, established relationship, daddy/mama/princess, toji feeds megumi with a little struggle, tired!Satoru is doing his best, hints at satoru missing dates,

𝐟𝐞𝐲: had to write some fluff after that last episode, I can't! Let me comfort them all

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

He's frozen beneath the rushing shower water. Steam rolls off his muscular back, facing toward you. Splaying his large hand on the wall, his broad shoulders tense. Paying you no mind as you slip into the slower with him.

Slipping your hand through his. "The girls are asleep in the pillow tent. With some cartoons playing for background noise." Trying to ground him, when his brain caught reliving the past. Letting your hand go, turning around, anger and hopelessness hollow his face.

Grabbing your hips, spreading Suguru spreads his large thick fingers out. "Thank you love. You good?" His cheeks are thinner, with deepening dark circles beneath his eyes. The coldness melts in his narrow chocolate-colored eyes. His frown softens to a flat line.

Holding his face, reaffirming, "We're good," as he leans down, passionately kissing you, gently groaning. Parting your lips for him to slip his tongue into your mouth. Hugging Suguru tightly.

Slowly he breaks away, trailing kisses from your jaw to your neck. Biting around the small scar left over from Toji almost slicing your head off, then leaving you to bleed out. Squeezing along your sides.

Biting your lip to keep from crying out when he sinks his teeth in deeper. "I got you sugar-bear. Lemme take care of you." He pulls away kissing your forehead. "I have a blunt waiting for us. We sit on the balcony. I'll brush your hair out." You grab his round sponge hanging next to a unicorn and dragon-shaped loofas.

He won't talk, but you could attempt to distract him momentarily. Give him the attention and care he shows the girls and yourself. "I love you sugar-bear." Pouring his wild lands scented soap onto it. The shampoo's back states a wonderful mix of eucalyptus, white birch, and cypress.

Scrubbing Suguru's broad, muscular chest, rubbing your fingers over his firm tits. Sliding your fingers over his well-defined abs. "I love you too princess.” Trailing his loofa down, scrubbing his v-line and dark short hair. Carefully smearing soap down his soft, fat cock. Careful to make sure soap doesn’t get into his cockhead.

Letting go of his cock to squeeze soap from the loofa into your palm, fondling his balls. Suguru brings up, “I was thinking of cooking breakfast with the girls." He parts his thighs enough for you to clean his ballsack.

Smiling up at Suguru, puckering your lips he lean down giving you a chaste, sweet kiss. "We got the stuff for triple chocolate chunk. You can have Mimi with the muffins. Ko can help me with the omelets and blueberry pancakes." Crouching in front of him, scrubbing down his well-toned, legs, lingering on his muscular thighs.

Lifting his foot, his pale cheeks flushing light pink. “You don’t need to do all this..I can wash myself.” Getting the other one, then standing up. “Aren’t you tired mama?" That is new, but you couldn't help but like the affirmation of his future wife and mother to both adorable girls.

Standing up, getting on the tip of your toes, he leans down for you to kiss his cheeks. Scrubbing his broad shoulders and neck. “I’m tired, but that doesn’t matter." Going down his muscular arm, grabbing his large hand, admiring the size difference between his and yours.

Switching to his other arm, "I want to daddy.” Suguru eyes widen momentarily, the corner of his lips pulling up into a soft smile. "We're a family aren't we, gotta make sure you’re taken care of." A couple of tears trickle down his cheek.

Holding your hand, rising the soap off, “All that's missing is a ring." Kissing your knuckles. "I'm so grateful I have you and the girls."

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Two hours late.

'We should cancel, 😥 it's good. See you when you can make the time. I understand you're busy 😘😘. I'm going to get cozy, order some takeout.🍴You got the key, be quiet coming in if I'm asleep.'

Unzipping your dress, slipping out of it. Walking into the bathroom to toss it the hamper of barely worn clean worn that you need to hang back up. Setting your phone down, it buzzes. It's screen lights up a text from Satoru.

'Got caught up. We can still go, I got time.'

You want to go with him on late night date, but you can’t stop thinking of his bloodshot, tired eyes the last time you got a peak. It has you thinking getting a full night’s rest sounds better.

'I know you're trying. If you can come in the next few by we chill, I'm tired 🥱 n' want to fall asleep with you watching some cartoons. 👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼You could use some rest for once, 😴😴 otherwise this is the last kiss for a week. 😤😒'

Snapping a quick video, blowing him a quick kiss. Adding I love you for the caption. You're cleaning your face when Satoru responds.

'Noooo you can't! EVIL. ✋🏻 I don't need sleep, fine 😒 😫😩😫😒 I'll sleep if you stay in the bed with me. 🥰🥰 I'll come right over in another hour 😖🥺.' 'Can you wait to eat till then, 🥺🥺 I'll bring something, anything you want. I left some work clothes over? I can walk around your naked 🥴'

Taking your fash wash, lotion, and face/eye mask out to start your face care routine. Waiting to see if Satoru would have anything else to say before texting him.

'Cleaned them so they smell like lavender. 😁 N' got some comfy clothes for you if you want them, you'll look good. 😮‍💨 But I don't mind seeing your sexy ass sleep-deprived ass resting naked in my bed.’

Opening Satoru’s blurry Snapchat video of him loudly proclaiming his love from an unknown location. There’s a loud boom marking the end of the video. Your chest tightens, breathing in till your lungs are about to burst and the slowly letting it go. Refusing to indulge obsessively thinking about everything that could go wrong.

It’s an hour later when Satoru sends; ‘I get kisses 👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼 and morning boob if I sleep? 😍😍 Also what are you craving sweetheart?’ Among setting your bed up with the squish-a-mellows Satoru adores cuddling into. You figured out what you want.

‘Cơm tấm! And the usual comfort favorite dessert. At least seven hours! ✋🏽😤 then morning boob 🥰😘’

The next time you hear from him is when Satoru announces, “I’m home! Give me kisses if you want your food.” Rushing into the living room, where he holds your take out above his head. Pointing at his cheek with an enormous grin on his face.

Loudly kissing his cheek and the tip of his nose with a “Mmmaw!” Grabbing the food once he lowers it. “Come on I got the bedroom cozy for us with some stuffed animals for you to knock off by morning.” Wrapping his arm around your waist, leaning down loudly covering your face in kisses.

Kissing your lips last, his breathy moan sounds as if he’s been waiting for this all day. Parting your lips for him for his tongue. He’s kisses are so gentle, passionate, and beautiful noisy. Slipping your fingers through his, breaking away, tugging him towards your bedroom.

“I’ll give you more kisses after I get you undressed, and relaxing before you fall over from exhaustion.” Taking the food from him, it’s crinkles sounding louder in the small space of the hallway.

Satoru scoffs, “You worry too much.” His large soft hand enveloping yours is comforting. He’s here, able to relax, and get some well needed rest.

Squeezing his hand, he squeezes back, “You shouldn’t worry, I’m the strongest.” Rolling your eyes, shuffling into your bedroom, dimly lit by vanilla and cinnamon candles.

Setting the food aside on the bedside table. “Don’t care what you call yourself, doesn't matter how strong you are," He flops onto your bed, burying his face into a multicolored squish. "You’re still mine to worry about, and care for.” He rolls over, pulling his mask up temporarily.

His dark circles have gotten bigger, the whites of his eyes tinted pink. “Can have a kiss n’ be small-“ he pauses yawning, "spoon tonight?”

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

Wiping the sleep out of your eyes, shuffling towards Megumi's bedroom. "Latch fucker, you'll like the damn food n' sleep like baby." The golden glow of the lamp lets you see frustrated Toji cradling a grumpy Megumi trying to bottle-feed him.

Megumi is pressing his lips in a firm line, failing his chunky baby arms the best he can, kicking his little feet. Silently protesting the bottle Toji has.

Keeping your voice low, "He's going to mimic you when he can speak." You sit in the second rocking chair and leaning over. Smiling at your husband and son, Megumi's grumpy face matches Toji's too well.

Toji's eyes are bloodshot. "Then what do I do? Tell me so I can start figurin’ out how to be a good dad." His voice is rough, and you can smell whiskey on his breath. He's been up having a glass after another nightmare.

Megumi holds his hands out for you Toji scoffs, “He hates me already. What the-ugh.” You hold your hand out for Megumi to grab onto one of your fingers. His grip gets stronger with each passing month.

Megumi finds comfort in holding your hand, trying to put your fingers in his mouth. Settling his kicking legs, holding them in close to his self. “He doesn’t, being a parent going to be challenging the whole time but we can do it together.” You don’t think your words reach him.

After years by his side he’s slowly divulged his fear of fatherhood. Letting you know part of his fucked up childhood in after some liquor loosened his tongue.

Megumi presses a hand to Toji’s cheek. He flushed pink, his eyes soften as Megumi grins. Kicking his little legs and cooing. You point out, “See he is just happy to see me. Since he has settled lightly put some milk on his lip. He'll lick it and then want some more.” Slowly pulling your hand away, Megumi lightly pats Toji’s cheeks with soft smack.

“Eyy! What this attacking you’re old man? I’m tryin’.” Toji gently squeezes the baby bottle, droplets of milk over Megumi’s bottom lip. His little tongue darts out to lick it, his eyes widen, letting go of your finger to try and grab the bottle. This time he latches when Toji gives it to him.

“There he goes!” You can hear the pride in your husband’s voice. Standing up kissing Toji’s cheek, and crouching down to kiss Megumi's forehead, overcome with love. "I love ya both, I'm tryin' sweetheart. At least he isn't crying at me anymore." Megumi manages to grab Toji’s fingers, digging in his quickly growing baby nails.

“We love you too Toji. Gumi will let you know when he gets a little older. It won't be too much longer and he'll be four years old running around with your grumpy face." Lightly rubbing Megumi's soft baby head, fuzzy with short, black fluffy hair.

Toji hisses, "Ow!" Looking up you, "when the kid gets older I can play some games with him. But for now, tomorrow we need to cut his nails." He wiggles his large finger that Megumi is latched onto. Standing up, yawning, stretching your arms out trying to keep yourself awake to enjoy this moment with your family.

Ghost your fluffy white cat scambles into the room, hoping onto Toji's lap. Softly sniffling Megumi. He lets go of Toji in favor of gently grabbing a tuff of Ghost's thick white cheek fur. "Hey, that doesn't mean you can join." Rolling your eyes.

You call Toji out, "You spoil Ghost more than I do. Don't act like you don't cuddle her, give her wet food, make sure her fur isn't tangled." Easing Megumi's hand out of Ghost's fur. She hops onto the side table, adoringly staring up at Toji awaiting her moment to have his attention.

You add, "I've seen how hard you've worked on yourself to be a better man for me to marry. Now I know you'll do the same for our baby." Megumi closes his eyes, his suckling slowly down. Milk trickled down his chin onto the little towel Toji put, trying to keep Megumi's onesie clean.

Toji lowers his voice leaning in for you to hear him. “Why don’t you go back to sleep, Once I put him down, I'll come back to bed, hold you too.” Frowning, taking your seat back by him, and making yourself comfortable.

Petting Ghost between her fuzzy ears. She instantly climbs into your lap, curling up. Her loud purring filling up the room. "I'm good, want to share this with you." This bonding moment is too cute for you to walk away from.

strawberry brat all works

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rosewaterandivy · 1 year

Text

petrichor

a continuation of sugar & mint

summary: a summer friday feat. long lie-ins, a doting husband, and something unexpected

pairing: dad!steve x mom!reader

W.C.: 2390 K

warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, smoking, cursing, pregnancy mention, my usual brand of filth (unprotected p-i-v, oral - m & f receiving, come eating)

a/n: disclaimer, i'm not a mom (unless you count my two pets)!! i am but a simple god mom to some feral babies, whom i adore. if pregnancy or mom!reader is not your vibe, i completely get it - i just couldn't get the thought of these two out of my head 🥹

🎵🎵 Oh, woe-oh-woah is me, the first time that you touched me 🎵🎵

pet·ri·chor /ˈpetrīˌkôr/ (noun)

definition: a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.

Waking to the sound of rain falling steadily on the roof, you blearily pry an eye open to check the time. The sheets beside you on the bed are cool, Steve having made good on his promise to let you sleep in. The clock informs you of the late hour, 1 PM, as your stomach begs for sustenance.

Scrubbing a hand across your face, you roll over and rummage around for a shirt to cover throw on before trotting downstairs. Bub is off with her aunts for one final summer weekend, and there’s a slight chill in the air. Enough to warrant slipping on your husband’s discarded gray sweatshirt.

Aside from the rain against the eaves and windows, the house is silent. Grabbing your favorite mug from the cabinet, you busy yourself making a cup of coffee before you see the post-it stuck to the fridge.

Hope you got to sleep in, your majesty. Grabbing groceries in town, see you soon. xxx - Steve

Grabbing a cinnamon bagel and your coffee you settle in the window seat of the breakfast nook to watch the rain, free of distractions and responsibilities. It’s rare that you get a moment like this, no pressing deadlines, drop-off or pick-up lanes, hosting dinners for friends, or attending a birthday party.

Eyes following the drag of raindrops on the windowpane, your hand falls to the nearly imperceptible swell of your stomach. Early days yet, but you knew the signs: nausea, exhaustion, all the usual suspects. Finishing your coffee, you trekked upstairs in search of a rogue pregnancy test— would it have expired by now?

After checking the date and deeming it worthy, you took the test and checked the time. Deciding it best to go back downstairs to ease your anxiety, you settled back in the window seat with a second cup of coffee.

“Couldn’t find a shirt?”

He laughs, shaking off the water droplets like a dog in the foyer. “It wasn’t raining when I left,” Steve says, as if that’s explanation enough. Not that you’re necessarily complaining, his hair and skin damp, tank top doing fuck all being as soaked as it is. “And I couldn’t find my—”

Catching sight of his sweatshirt grazing the tops of your thighs he smiles. “Nevermind, looks better on you anyway.” He kicks the door closed, shoes squelching against the floor as he makes his way into the kitchen.

“Baaaabe,” you whine, catching a whiff of tobacco on him, “Please tell me you didn’t smoke in my car.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, sunglasses resting against the visor of his ball cap as he sets the tote bags on the counter. ��Trader Joe’s was insane,” he says setting the keys on the counter, “It was an emergency cigarette, I swear.”

A roll of your eyes as you begin to put away the groceries. “If you bothered to wake me, I could’ve told you Trader Joes on a Friday was a bad idea.”

Steve quirks a brow in interest, grabbing a few items to shove in the freezer.

“Flower delivery is Friday, brings all the Lululemon moms to the yard.”

“Huh,” he grunts, “Explains all the spandex and lycra then.” Damp fingers trail against your thigh before wrapping an arm around your hip to draw you close. “Besides,” he breathes against your neck, “If I remember correctly, you requested to be left to sleep in.”

Failing to stifle a yawn, you eek out, “Because I’m fuckin’ exhausted, Harrington.” Setting your mug in the sink, you turn in his grasp and drape an arm across his shoulders. “Raising your daughter and dealing with your sorry ass.”

“Oh,” he pulls you closer, hips flush against one another, “So she’s my daughter now?”

“When she’s having sleep regression, yes.”

“Poor thing.”

“Yes,” you huff, “Me, I’m the poor thing because she insisted on crawling into our bed and kept kicking me in the ribs all night.”

“Hmm,” he hums, resting his chin against your head, “Explains the post-it stuck to my face this morning. ‘Help me Steve Harrington, you’re my only hope! Can you get Bub off to Aunt Nancy & Robin’s and please (for the love of god) let me sleep in? xxx —the love of your life & bearer of your child.”

“Hey,” you grouse into his chest, “I am clever and cute and you love me.”

Steve pulls back to get a better look at you— sleep mused, hair askew, barely dressed in a sweatshirt that had seen better days, and bare feet. He reaches down to link his fingers through yours. It feels so good, and warm, and you sigh almost contentedly.

“Course I do.” He takes a breath, “How could I not?”

“Steve Harrington,” you whisper against his lips, “You sweet talkin’ me?”

And with that, you crash your lips over his, sliding your tongue—sweet and heavy with promise into the space of his mouth.

He tastes like a stolen cigarette and coffee, cinnamon dancing on his tongue from the Big Red he’d swiped from the car. Kisses you slow and deep, easing you back against the counter. Chest pressed flush to yours, you let out an involuntary hiss.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

A shake of your head as your pepper his cheeks with kisses, bristles of five o’clock shadow catching against your lips.

“My tits just really hurt.”

“Huh,” he tuts, leaning back to look you over. “That’s uh… new.”

Quirking your brow, you level him with a look. “And how would you know?”

Steve’s lips curl in a slow smile, “I notice things.”

Glancing to the green numbers illuminated on the microwave, you grab his hand and make for the staircase. “Sure you do, big guy,” you toss over your shoulder playfully.

Settling him on the bed, you trot back into the en suite and return with the white plastic test in your hand. Handing it to him without fanfare, you watch as his face turns from one of mild curiosity to that of astonishment. Shock.

There was a cautious longing in your eyes and your face was measured. The air was weighted in silence, desire crystallizing as he leaned towards you, a pull he allowed himself to fall toward, closing the space between, choosing not to think, blocking out any hesitation and he was kissing you.

You were trying not to rush this, trying to savor this, slowly, carefully, tormented with the scent of his skin, all warm and washed linen, comfort laced in a simmering heat that he kept tempered somewhere deep within his soul.

Your face was cradled in his hands, pulling you closer, skin hot against palms, lips hotter still against his own when he realised the rain had stopped.

You crawl into his lap, straddle his waist, and his breath is punched out of his lungs in awe of your beauty. You undress him with deft fingers, yanking his clothes, hissing when he pulls away to peel the shirt off— as if not touching him pains you. The sweatshirt comes off— thrown carelessly landing somewhere on the floor— Steve revels in the exposure your chest—soft, heaving with love and agony.

Steve. Stevie. I love you. I love you. I love you so much.

Desperate, again.

You tug his hair, grip his chest and back, kiss him until his head spins. The bed creaks softly, as if it doesn’t want to interrupt the sounds that your bodies create together.

His kisses were deliberate towards one destination as his hands moved toward another, caressing you soft on the skin of your hips, slowly, sweetly up your sides and arching your back where you perched, a way to kiss you harder, reach you further to rediscover all his favorite parts of you.

The moan started low in your throat as he eased himself into you, sinking all the way to the hilt, delicious and easy, because he couldn’t wait and neither could you. You in all your love and splendor, always ready, always open for him, legs widening and gripping him as he began to move, slowly and agonizingly sweet.

Steve was trying to restrain himself, slow it down, revel in the feel of you, warm and wet and wonderful around him. He wanted to make it go slow, try not to lose himself through your soft sounds, the little breaths that told him the how, the when, the yes, please, right there, yes as you dissolved into moans that had him aching.

It was less deliberate now, more messy, a stuttered rhythm that had his legs feeling shaky, chasing his release, the push and pull of desire tightening, closer, hotter, tighter, and then an instant hardness that had him seeing stars, mouth tucked into the curve of your neck, your fingers threaded, gripping his locks, spilling feeling from his cock through your cunt.

He makes love to you, and even though he is bone tired from the hectic morning, he doesn’t feel it until you tremble in his arms and slump against his chest.

Your breath caught in your throat when he drew back to look at you, half-embarrassed, half a smile awash in his flushed face, hazel eyes full and wanting – utterly beautiful. Steve kissed your nose, your mouth, lingering sweetness on your lips, and you groaned as he picked you up, still buried inside you, his hands strong beneath your ass, fingers itching to trail the familiar paths of faded stretch marks. To praise the skin that grew to house you and your daughter, knew instinctively what to do, even if you were less than pleased with their sudden arrival.

Steve can’t help it - he loves your body for that, for keeping you and Bub safe. It’s something he won’t ever experience, but each time he happens to catch sight of you, pregnant or not, he can’t help but feel that he’s witnessing something sacred. Something holy.

The bed now, a comfort beneath your back, sheets scrambled beneath his palms as he balanced himself above you, then a stuttered breath as he slipped out, your muscles already missing the fullness of him. His pretty head moved lower now, your pretty hands still stroking through his pretty hair, sending pretty shivers through his spine.

The gasp was low in your throat when Steve pushed his fingers inside you, slow and agonizing, damp with you and him, all melded together and you almost winced when he dipped his mouth between your thighs, his tongue careful and deliberate, tasting you, tasting him, his mouth warm and licking you from core to clit.

This time, your legs were shaking, skin like fire and you were already too wound up, too high on just the feel on him, his hair brushing skin, beard soft on your thighs. Your fingers were fisted still through his hair, and god, he loved the way he knew how to drive you by the tension in your hands, the scrabbled grip through his locks as you got closer, more breathless, a groan and then an arch of toes before you were wrung out and writhing beneath him.

A clap of thunder sounded out as you collapsed, loose limbs and shivery skin as he came up to kiss you, shared joy and wonder, near awe that he could still bring you over the edge this way.

Steve's hair was something else now, wild and beautiful – definitely overdue for a trim and you were laughing now, face sparkling with glee.

“You look awful,” you told him, bringing your lips up to kiss him, all giggly with delight.

“Thank you,” he replied, nosing you close and drawing new breaths from your tongue as your hands drifted to the velvet skin beneath his thighs, working him slow and sweet.

“Oh, I will,” you answered, tempered smile in that face he adored so well, and shifted your body, drawing Steve onto his back as you dipped lower and he tried to hold the groan as you took him in your mouth.

He had to look away, some way to regather himself, the rushing blood through his skin, shooting straight to his cock, the warmth of your mouth on him, your tongue stroking him, the push and drag of your lips along that sensitive skin.

Steve focused on the feeling of you surrounding him, your warmth, your light, but even so, it was too much after a while and he had to change it, change the way you felt on him before he got too eager, too earnest. He lifted you, a giggle escaping your lips as you pulled off him with one last, deliberate drag of your mouth and this time, he couldn’t help the moan from his lips.

It was heaven, warm and sweet, when he pushed into you for the second time, your knees almost matched high at your chest, grazing your aching nipples as he found that special part of you that drew his most favorite sounds. You were keening, moving slowly together, trying not to lose control, trying to savor this for as long as you possibly could in this delicious bubble of time and space. _

Hours later and the pair of you had yet to leave the house. Rain pouring on and off throughout the afternoon and into the evening.

A tentative look at your belly, still smooth and firm. His hand finds the plane of it, fingers brushing the skin and over newly forming goosebumps. A surprising amount of excitement flutters in his own at the thought. It’d be good.

Steve insisted on throwing something together for dinner and made his way downstairs. He’s excited at the prospect of another baby, especially if they continued to take after you like Bub had. And she’d be adorable big sister, his heart swells at the thought.

He grabs the plates and heads back upstairs, the creak of the trick-step signalling his ascent. Nudging the door open with his hip, he pauses to take in the sight of you, and sets the plates on the nightstand.

Steve doesn’t know how someone can light up a room like you, just sitting there in his sweatshirt, doing nothing but smile. “Honey,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t want to disturb the moment but can’t help himself. He just wants to see you looking at him.

“Yeah?” You turn your head ever so slightly, peek up under flared lashes— sleepy eyes struggling to stay awake— still sparkling. “What is it?”

“Honey, I love you.” Is all he can manage. Everything else seems to fade away.

And then you smile, a slow curling of your soft lips, cupid’s bow catching a moonbeam. You smile so sweetly his heart stops in his chest. The world comes rushing back with your tired sigh and your hand linking itself with his. One beat, two beats, steadily, heavily, his blood pulses again when you kiss his cheek and murmur,

“I love you, too.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #dad! steve harrington #Spotify

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prettieinpink · 8 months

Note

Hi I really love ur blog and I was wondering if you have any tips about nails, bc my nails grow long but are so flimsy that they keep breaking off and bending easily, no pressure or anything

♡♡♡

GUIDE TO TAKING CARE OF NAILS

DAILY CARE

Avoid nail polishes that contain formaldehyde and dibutyl phthalate as they can cause your nails to weaken over time. Highly pigmented polishes can also cause weak nails. To avoid this, take breaks from nail polish and go natural from time to time.

Use cuticle oils frequently, which varies from the condition of your nails. If you don’t have cuticle oil, vaseline or a lip balm is a good alternative.

Keep your nails away from dirty or wet environments. Dirt can nurture the growth of bacteria and wet nails are weak nails. If you have to be doing things that include excessive moisture or dirt, try to wear gloves of any kind.

Stop biting your nails and picking at them. While both are difficult habits to break, both can destroy the health of your nails. Be very mindful of how you treat your nails.

Wash your hands thoroughly when needed. Before and after you eat, you go to the loo, you handle food etc. When we wash our hands, The grime under our nails is also being washed away.

Nails are not tools. Don’t use them to open cans, remove stickers or open boxes. This will weaken them in the long run and increase the chances of them being chipped or broken. Use the provided tools you have instead.

Avoid prolonged exposure to harsh chemicals like cleaning products or acetone-based products. They can strip your nails of moisture which causes breakage

WEEKLY (AT-HOME) MANICURE

If you have nail polish on, don’t peel or pick at it but use a nail-friendly nail polish remover gently with a cotton pad/ball.

After that, if needed, file or trim your nails to your desired length. For smooth cutting, wipe down your nails with a wet cotton ball or wipe.

Get a bowl of warm water and soap to soak your cuticles in. Then use a soft brush or a clean toothbrush to gently exfoliate your nails. You can usually use a little bit of your body scrub or a tad bit of sugar. Then, dry your hands & nails with a small microfiber towel.

Apply cuticle oil or any cream to moisturise your nails, then massage that it for a few minutes to stimulate nail growth.

Apply your polishes in the correct order. Base coat, nail polish then top coat.

Moisturise with a nice hand cream!

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fanaticsnail · 10 months

Text

Soft-Dom Buggy Headcanons

Taking a small break from my small break to bring you some headcanons! I've nearly completed my little crochet project, so I'll be back at it again shortly!!

Word Count: 710 (just some wee little thoughts)

(@sordidmusings, thank you for listening to my thoughts. Had to flesh them out and share them)

Masterlist here.

Going about completing duties as a crewman of the Buggy-Pirates, a small cindering infatuation develops within you every time your Captain does something slightly dominantly-leaning.

Elbows deep into the soapy water, you grasped another damp copper plate within your hands and scrub at the metal to rid it of all remnants of food. Your hair continued to fall into your face every time you looked at the plate rolling throughout your fingertips. You tried swinging your neck back to flip it, only for the strands to immediately fall back into your eyes.

You puffed out a breath of frustration, blowing at the strands that fell into your face as you made to continue scrubbing at the dishes.

Two hands rake through your hair from behind in a firm grip, starting at the temples of your head and falling back to the nape of your neck; collecting the disobedient strands away from your face and being balled within a singular fist of an unknown person behind you.

"I got you, doll-face," whispered your Captain into your neck as he expertly collected your hair and began securing it within a leather strap. You felt your body stiffen, completely halting your ability to complete your chore as he touched you; tingles shooting through your body at his firm and confident grip.

After securing the strands away from your face, your Captain hummed out in approval before turning to leave.

He halted his step, turning immediately back to you; "oh shit, pumpkin. Should've asked if you wanted your hair tied up first."

"I-its f-fine," you managed to stutter through your fluster.

"Oh, good," buggy sighed, turning again away from you to exit the kitchens in the big top.

You were left immobilized, shocked at your captain's actions with rapid heartbeat booming in your chest. Shaking off the thought, you continued your chore with a warm, rosey blush peppering your cheeks in your fluster.

“Listen, Cabaji,” you began, a small frown adorning your brow, “I squabbed the deck yesterday, and I’ll be absolutely damned if I have to do it again. I don’t care what the captain says.”

“What was that?” called the booming voice of the Captain close to the steering rudder.

Buggy stalks over with a small spurt of extreme confidence towards you.

"Get on your knees," he demands softly, flicking your chin with his gloved right hand. Immediately, you sink to the floor under the buckling of your knees; obediently bending your will to the infamous Clown-Captain.

Buggy, extremely taken aback takes a moment to collect himself, uttering quietly to himself; "that actually fucking worked? Hm.”

As both a spurt of confidence and an open act of defiance at how your captain was directing you lately, you hardened your resolve and decided to go ahead with your arrangement of clothes for the day: a striped, low cut white and muted-red cropped waistcoat, a yellow-mustard coloured neckerchief; tanned, tight leather pants hugging the curvature of your ass as you sauntered confidentially swaying your hips into the red and white tent of the big top.

Upon spotting you, your captain quirks his brow up in question before furrowing his brows in rage.

Buggy eyes your chosen outfit for the day, infuriated at your arrangement of clothes displayed in front of his crew. He descends from the bleachers and into the ring of the circus centre.

"Hey! I'm the star! I'm the one in the spotlight! Don't you dare think you can outshine me, Pumpkin," he reprimands you, briskly stalking up to you with an intimidating aura about him. He brings his hand up to shield his lips from the others, whispering intimately: "you look perfect, Sugar. Just puttin' on a show."

You bit your lip at his show of dominance with a soft groan escaping your lips. Buggy’s eyes travelled to your mouth as his pupils dilated at your moan. The two of you immediately snapped out of your trance, shaking your heads slightly and walking away from each other to commence further duties for the day. Your captain looked over his shoulder, watching your exit from the tent; gawking at you and the hold he held over you. Something he would look to exploit for his enjoyment in the future.

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #buggy #captain buggy #buggy x you #buggy fic #buggy the clown x reader #buggy headcanons #soft dom buggy

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femmefatalevibe · 1 year

Note

what "glow up tips" do you have that (actually) work?

I know some of the common ones like "ooh drink water" and whatever, which I already do (I try to eat healthy most days, drink water every day, exercise 5 days a week, etc.)

And I understand that while all these work, I was looking for more short-term glow up tips, like how to glow up your hair/makeup etc. if that makes sense.

So I guess what advice do you have for a "overnight" glow up (quote unquote)?

Love the blog!!

Hi love! Thank you so much <3

Yes, totally get what you're saying (and that's great – it's all just so important, honestly). Here are some of my "overnight glow-up hacks" if we shall call them that, which I believe fit into this category:

For your hair, use a mask on your hair the night before you want it to look extra shiny and smooth (I use this HASK one – it's $2-3 and works like magic). Wash it in cold water, and let it fully dry (even for a little while after using heat to dry it!) before putting it up or playing with your style at all

Dermaplane your face, tweeze your eyebrows and then put on an extra hydrating face lotion to lock in glowing, fresh-looking skin (I use Embryolisse Lait-Crème Concentré, it's a "dupe" for La Mer's famous face cream)

Exfoliate your entire body with a sugar scrub and use an ultra-hydrating body lotion (I use Tree Hut's Coco Colada scrub and Uriage's Xemose Lipid-Replenishing Anti-Irritation Cerat moisturizer)

Do a face massage/use a facial or body massage ball to depuff your face

An orgasm is a natural lip-plumper

Use Vaseline/Homeoplasmine to hydrate under your eyes + your lips

Apply concealer as a primer under your eyeliner (use a brush to thinly trace it before) setting powder/face powder under your eyes to "lock in" your eyeliner so it doesn't smudge (or at least way less)

Layer a cream blush with a powder blush over the top right away your cheekbones for a glowy, more lifted face

Outline your brows and lips with concealer with set powder over the top to avoid brow or lip product smudging

To help your lip color last all day: Apply a coat of lipstick, and blot excess with a tissue. Then, apply another coat and blot the excess again

Hope this helps xx

#femmefatalevibe #glow up #glow up tips #glow up era #makeup tips #makeup products #beauty routine #beauty tips #beauty advice #haircare tips #haircare #haircare routine #haircare products #q/a

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balkanradfem · 10 months

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Lately I've been pleased whenever I find a way to make use of something that would otherwise get thrown away; for instance, I learned that you can use scrunched-up aluminium foil to scrub pans and pots, instead of that ball of wire you can buy!

The walnuts that you can't completely clean out of shells, are a great bird snack, who can get their beaks in there. Fruit that is starting to go bad/already has gone bad, is a great food for butterflies. Any food that's starting to get rotten can be a great addition to a compost pile and a snack for any worm. Citrus peels can be used to infuse vinegar to make nice-smelling cleaning solution. Or they can be made into sugared candy! Lemon slices that make a great winter decoration, can be used as a halloween decoration later when they turn black. Any small carboard box you have can be used for organizing, and if you have a big one, you can put a wooden board on it and create a little shelf to put plants on! An old cracked aquarium can be used as a little greenhouse, or an extra shelf on top of a surface. Old newspapers and old clothing can be cut into strips or tubes, and weaved into baskets. Old paper egg cartons can be soaked, blended and then turned into paper. Any plastic container can get a hole at the bottom and grow a plant in it.

Please tell me more things that you know how to reuse that would otherwise just be thrown away! I want more of this knowledge.

#reusing old items #diy #upcycling #reuse #decoration #food waste #composting #feeding birds and worms

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p1nkcanoe · 6 months

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the polaroid collection: mountain

this is part six of the polaroid collection, based off of 'picture this'. you can either find the masterlist here, read on ao3, or read below:

Mountain is a predictable ghoul. Detail oriented. A strict schedule follower…

Every morning he gets up at the same time and puts on the same mud-stained apron over his work clothes, brews himself a steaming cup of coffee with a splash of milk and two sugars, and heads out to the greenhouse. He works for about four hours, sometimes more to ensure everything is growing and green, lifting heavy bags of dirt over his broad shoulders and organizing a million containers of seeds with calloused fingers until he’s sore. Then he’ll head back in towards the den around lunchtime and place his dirt-covered sandals right outside the door, dusting off his clothes on the lawn to make sure he doesn’t spatter the stone slab in front of the door with soil – because it would be so rude of him to leave such a tiny mess for someone else to step in.

It’s almost infuriating how perfect he is.

But after he gets a bite to eat, eating the leftovers in the fridge and scrubbing the dirty dishes, he then disappears into his bedroom to cleanse his body of the lingering filth of the gardens. And for the majority of his packmates, they believe that that is where his strenuous morning routine ends; a nice, relaxing bath. What they don’t know is that the earth ghoul always takes a lengthy, less-than-glamorous moment to jerk his rock hard, stress-induced erection to completion before hopping into the bath.

Always.

It’s like clockwork at this point. Swiss listens for his heavy footsteps outside the hall, listens for the quiet click of his bedroom lock, and then it’s only a matter of minutes before the soft groans begin floating in through the old vent connecting their rooms. It’s a blessing it’s there, really. It’s like music to Swiss’ ears when he hears him. That big, sweet, considerate ghoul with a huge heart and an even bigger dick…

Oooh and he really likes it when Mountain works longer hours than usual, because it means that he can smell him. And fuck does he smell delightful. A dizzying combination of sweat and stress and lustful pheromones that drive the multi ghoul absolutely mad despite only being able to imagine what he looks like on the other side. He wants to eat him up, get a taste, and it doesn’t help that he stinks particularly strong today.

His feet carry him out of his desk chair and through Mountain’s bedroom door before he can fully process the possibility that Mountain may not be alone. Cock already generously tenting the front of his shorts, the sight of the ghoul half-naked on his bed with his fist wrapped around his dick is almost enough to make him forget entirely about the camera clutched in his hand.

He looks really good – Swiss knew he would. He’s got his tight undershirt bunched up around his chest to keep it out of the way and his dirtied cargos are bundled in a heap around his ankles. The sudden intrusion into his space has the earth ghoul more than surprised, his cheeks pink and his breathing heavy, but Swiss doesn’t care.

Upon bursting in, Mountain’s scent had hit him in the face like the bus they ride around in during tour. So gross, so pungent, so thick. Swiss watches as his hand struggles to fight between continuing to get himself off or hiding himself away. Nostrils flaring, pupils dilating… Mountain cups his balls with his other hand under Swiss’ intense gaze, suddenly insecure.

“Hey, big guy,” Swiss says, an unnatural lilt to his voice as he gives the other ghoul a big, toothy smile.

The suspicion doesn’t leave Mountain’s features as the multi ghoul stalks closer, eyes raking over the other’s form like he’s sizing him up. Then he finds the camera in his grasp and things begin to click into place at the same time that the heavy wooden door clicks into its frame. That look of confusion contorts into something cunning, his lips curling into a smirk as his fingers flex around the base of his shaft, wiggling the tip like a worm in front of a hungry fish.

Green eyes flit from the camera up to find brilliant gold and a singular fang peeks out from behind Mountain’s chapped upper lip.

“You know,” he starts and tilts his head to the side, “I heard about this little photography project you’ve had going on and I was wondering when you were gonna finally let me have my turn.”

Swiss huffs, surprised at the shift towards confidence, his change in demeanor unexpected, but continues to encroach upon the other’s space until there’s only a few steps to separate them. He feels his cock stir again, pre welling at the tip and soaking into the fabric that struggles to constrain him.

“Well you didn’t think I was gonna forget about you, did you?”

Mountain shrugs. Much too smug to have his pants around his ankles like a little boy. “I’m not too sure. I was beginning to think that everyone was gonna have their turn and I was gonna be left out in the mud.”

Swiss stalks a little bit closer, close enough to reach out if he wanted to. He doesn’t. His dick leads him in whichever direction he desires to go.

“Oh, but darling, you know I love it when you get a little dirty.” A gold-tipped digit extends and begins to trail downwards over a flaky patch of dirt smeared over Mountain’s strong bicep. Swiss watches as his finger descends, Mountain watches his face. “And besides, you smell so delicious, I couldn’t possibly stay away.��

The bigger ghoul falters for a moment, brow furrowing in slight confusion at his confession.

“You could smell me?”

Swiss finally meets his eyes and there’s a dangerous glint somewhere in there as his finger continues to linger on his skin, dragging down, down, down until his touch is feather-light.

“Always. I know your schedule like the back of my hand, dirt boy.”

Mountain glances upwards towards the rusted vent in the ceiling and Swiss chuckles in a way that makes him flash hot with embarrassment. He’s certainly heard more than he’d like to admit of Swiss’ late night rides and grinds – as has the other – but he had no idea that he could smell him.

His eyes darken and he tsks at the multi ghoul, “you naughty ghoul…”

Swiss’ finger drifts over to flick at a pebbled nipple before pulling away and shifting his weight back onto his heels, arms crossed across his chest. “Keep doing what you were doing,” he says and motions to him with a flick of his hand. “I wanna watch.”

Now that Mountain knows what is up, he is happy to perform. He jerks his dick in long, slow strokes, kicking his pants off the rest of the way so that he can spread his knees and show all of himself off. Swiss stands just in front of him, so close yet so tantalizingly far away, watching intently with lust-blown eyes as the ruddy head of his cock appears and disappears in his fist.

His hands are filthy, it’s obvious he’d made the decision not to wash them, and a sticky combination of fertilizer and dirt create a muddy residue that makes his dick all gritty and messy. Something about that is arousing.

“Not afraid to get a little dirty, huh?” Swiss asks, eyes still fixed on his ministrations.

Mountain rubs the muddy concoction into the folds of his foreskin and hums all pretty, ignoring the accusation in favor of being a little nasty. He likes nasty.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked you over a fresh bag of mulch before.”

“Well we don’t have to get into specifics…”

“A little uncharacteristic of you now, is it not?”

Swiss rolls his eyes dramatically and tells the other ghoul to scoot back further onto the bed. Then he peels off his own pants, his hard cock springing up to attention and bobbing as he walks forward to crawl into the massive earth ghoul’s lap, camera placed adjacent to them on the bed. It’s on, blinking and ready for whenever he decides to use it.

Swiss gives himself a few strokes for good measure and to make sure he’s at full mast (he is) and keeps his eyes trained on the way that Mountain matches his pace with his own hand. He glances up and finds those pretty green eyes that are as blown out as his own and surges forward to capture his chapped lips in a kiss.

It’s less of a kiss that they fall into, and more of a spit-slicked, open mouthed tangle of tongues. They steal each other's air when it escapes from their lungs and drink in each other’s noises that they make in their throat, replacing them with new ones until they’re throbbing in their hands and Swiss is moaning from the fresh bite of mint lingering on Mountain’s tongue. He tastes better than he imagined he would, and he sucks the taste directly from the source, drinking up the saliva that’s laced deliciously with the cool herb.

“What’ve you been up to in there, hmm? Taste good.”

Both of their voice’s are breathless, spoken directly into the other’s mouth.

Mountain tugs at the flared ridge of his head and groans deep in his chest, “come visit me sometime and I’ll give you a tour.”

Swiss pulls him in again by a hand on the back of his nape, biting on his swollen bottom lip and sucking on the tip of his tongue, and in the heat of it all Mountain nudges his hand away from his cock to slide their lengths together. The feeling of hot, slick skin against hot, slick skin makes both of them shudder all the way up their spines and the noises they make could make a demon blush.

It’s Swiss who breaks their devouring kiss to peer down and watch as Mountain works their lengths together in one of his overly large hands. Some of the dirt already begins to rub off onto his underside.

Mountain’s fat tip kisses Swiss’ frenulum with each and every stroke, sending intense jolts of pleasure up his spine with every little touch, no matter how intense.

It feels way too good just to be rubbing their cocks together, and it looks even better.

Mountain is so large. The sheer size of his girthy appendage nearly dwarfs Swiss’ own (which is no easy feat), and despite Swiss sitting atop his thighs, Mountain’s tip nearly matches up with him in length. Swiss reaches in to gather up a slick combination of their pre on his middle and index fingers and smears the digits over the other ghoul’s lips. He pushes them into his mouth and Mountain sucks gently, cleaning them with his tongue until they're clean and holding dangerous eye contact the entire time that he does.

Gold and green, gold and green, gold and green…

They’re lucky it’s not mating season– the sight of him with his fingers in his mouth makes Swiss’ belly flip a million times.

“The things you do to me…” he whispers, nearly inaudible, and Mountain parts his lips to let out a breathy laugh, carding his clean hand through Swiss’ thick curls and tugging his head back towards the ceiling. Swiss’ fingers slip out past his teeth coated in saliva. Swiss sucks it off.

When Mountain suddenly decides to use both of his hands to get them off, squeezing an twisting his wrist and creating a pocket for them to fuck in tandem, Swiss feels himself being guided rapidly towards the edge of euphoria – and much faster than he’d anticipated. Both of their cocks are flushed dark and so shiny, and Swiss begins to spit curses through his teeth when Mountain shifts his magic touch to their leaking heads.

“I’m gonna cum,” Mountain gasps out against Swiss’ jaw. He nips at the skin with his teeth, “are you gonna cum with me?”

He almost sounds desperate.

“No,” Swiss forces out. He surprises himself with how sure he sounds. The tightening in his balls begs to differ. Mountain’s brow scrunches together and he drops his jaw, clearly doing his best to stave off his impending orgasm.

With the last ounce of control he has left, Swiss reaches for the camera, lining up the shot blindly at where they’re pressed so hotly together.

“Want it just like this,” he moans and Mountain grips them both at the base, “so hard, so flushed, fuck, Mount, you’re so big…”

Mountain lets out a moan that's so loud he has to throw his head back towards the ceiling to get it out. The muscles in his abdomen ripple and go hard.

“Swiss– I’m gonna-”

“Don’t you dare ruin my shot.”

“Fuck, you’re such an asshole-”

Swiss bites his lip hard between his teeth when Mountain’s cock jerks and jumps pressed flush against the underside of his own.

“Shut up and flex it. Do that again.”

Mountain gives them another tight stroke then holds them firmly together at the base, exhibiting them in all their filthiest glory for the lens. A thin string of pre connects their leaking heads and the realization makes Swiss jerk violently, balls tightening, and he forces his finger to press down on the button milliseconds before he shoots hot and thick all over his own thighs and Mountain’s fingers.

“So much for not cumming,” Mountain teases, cheeks pink and forehead slick with sweat, but his little poke at the other gets cut short when Swiss wraps his hand tightly around his cock. “Whatever. We got the damn picture…”

#mountain ghoul #the polaroid collection #picture this #mountain x swiss #swiss ghoul #p1nk ficlet

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najia-cooks · 1 year

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[ID: Two triangles of baklava garnished with ground pistachio and whole cloves, with a silver Moroccan tea set in the background. End ID]

μπακλαβάς / Baklava

Baklava is a layered pastry consisting of a filling of chopped nuts piled between thin sheets of dough and sweetened with syrup. It is of contested and potentially ancient origin, with similar pastries attested in modern-day Turkey, Greece, and Assyria. Today, many regional variations of the pastry exist throughout North Africa and West and Central Asia.

This Greek-style recipe layers a spiced walnut filling between sheets of homemade filo dough, then soaks them in a sugar-honey syrup flavored with cinnamon, clove, and lemon. The resulting pastry is flaky, flavorful, and über-sweet.

Recipe under the cut!

Patreon | Tip jar

Ingredients:

For the dough:

4 2/3 cup (560g) bread flour

1/2 cup + 1 Tbsp (133mL) olive oil

1 Tbsp + 2 tsp red wine vinegar

About 1 - 1 1/3 cup (240 - 320g) lukewarm water

3/4 cup (165g) butter or non-dairy margarine, melted, for brushing

For the filling:

400g walnuts (or hazelnuts, shelled pistachios, and/or blanched almonds)

1/4 cup (35g) breadcrumbs

1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon (1/2 cassia cinnamon stick)

1 1/2 tsp ground cloves (18 / 1.5g whole cloves)

Greek baklava most commonly uses walnuts, though pistachios are also used. You may experiment with nuts of your choice.

The breadcrumbs help to soak up the syrup evenly and prevent sogginess.

For the syrup:

2 1/2 cups (500g) vegetarian granulated sugar

1 1/2 cups (355mL) water

1/4 cup (80g) agave nectar or honey

1 tsp orange blossom water (optional)

Peel of one lemon

1 cassia cinnamon stick

3 whole cloves

Instructions:

For the dough:

1. Combine flour and salt in a large mixing bowl. Add the vinegar and olive oil and mix to combine.

2. Gradually add a scant cup of water and continue to mix until the dough just comes together. Continue to knead, by hand or with a stand mixer and dough hook attachment, until the dough becomes smooth and elastic, about five minutes. If the dough does not come together, add additional water 1 tsp at a time. The dough should not be sticky.

3. Divide the dough into small balls of about 40g each (for a 13" x 9" pan). You may decide to make the dough balls slightly larger if you’re a beginner at working with thin dough.

4. Coat each dough ball with some olive oil and cover. Allow to rest for at least an hour, to allow gluten to form and facilitate rolling out later.

For the syrup:

1. Scrub a lemon thoroughly and remove the outer layer of peel with a knife or vegetable peeler. Heat sugar, water, lemon peel, cinnamon, and cloves in a large pot over medium heat until simmering. Stir to dissolve sugar and continue to simmer for about 5 minutes.

2. Remove from heat and stir in honey and orange blossom water. Allow to cool to room temperature, then refrigerate.

For the filling:

1. Blanch almonds by boiling them for about a minute, draining, and pinching gently to remove their skins. Shell pistachios. Chop nuts, or use a food processor, to achieve a coarse grind (you don't want a powder!).

2. Toast and grind whole spices, if using. Combine nuts with breadcrumbs and spices in a mixing bowl and set aside.

To assemble:

Baklava is made by interspersing thin sheets of dough with butter and nut filling to create flaky layers. Several sheets of dough will be needed at the top and bottom to prevent the weight of the nuts from causing the pastry to collapse. Some cooks add all of the nut filling between two groups of filo dough, while others intersperse the nuts throughout.

1. Melt margarine in a small saucepan or in the microwave. Using a pastry brush, coat the bottom and sides of a 9 x 13" baking dish in margarine.

2. On a lightly oiled surface, roll out one ball of dough into a rectangle a little larger than the bottom of your baking dish (it will relax as it transferred). Place the sheet in the bottom of the dish, gently stretching it into the corners. Don't worry too much about small holes—there will be many layers!

3. Gently drizzle and brush melted margarine over the sheet of dough.

4. Repeat this process 4 more times, for a total of 5 sheets interspersed with margarine. I placed each sheet on top of the previous one on the counter and waited to transfer them to the pan until I had rolled out all four. You may need to re-oil your working surface as you go.

5. Add just enough nut filling mixture to form a thin layer.

6. Roll out another two sheets of dough and brush them with margarine as before. Add another layer of nuts. Repeat until the nut mixture is gone, making sure to reserve at least five balls of dough for the top.

7. Roll out and place the remaining balls of dough and brush them with margarine as before.

8. Refrigerate for 10-15 minutes to make the baklava easier to cut. Using a sharp knife, cut the baklava into diamonds by cutting in lines diagonally in one direction, and then diagonally in another direction to form points at an acute angle; or, form triangles by cutting lengthwise and then widthwise to form squares, and then diagonally to cut those squares in half. Stick a whole clove in the center of each piece of baklava, if you like.

9. Bake at 300 °F (150 °C) for an hour to an hour and a half, until the top of the pastry is golden brown.

10. Remove from the oven and allow to cool for about 10 minutes. Pour the cooled syrup evenly over the surface of the baklava. Don't add the syrup warm, or it may make the baklava soggy!

11. Allow the syrup to absorb for several hours, or overnight.

#baking #baklava #Greek #walnuts #pistachios #almonds #breadcrumbs #bread flour

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one-smuts · 2 years

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You've been a ranch hand with Millies family for years, and are none to pleased when they hired on a new guy for "extra help." even less pleased when he turnes out to be a massive douche bag. an incredibly sexy and charasmastic douche, but a douche none the less. you want him to think that you want nothing to do with him. but the walls at the farm are thin, and you rearely keep track of what your saying when you're in the heat of the moment. that's when the truth of the matter really comes out.

~~~~~~~~

Honestly there is not nearly enough striker smut out there and it is a crime. so let me try to get the ball rollin. reader is Afab and Fem, an imp, and as always, requets are open ;)

"Son of a bitch!!" You yelled as the Hell Hog threw you off. And right as you got an opening too. "I swear to Satan, I will gut you." You growled to yourself as you charged for the animal again. You didn't get very far though. Of course Striker has to show you up, jumping in to "help you out" and slicing the pigs throat easily, stealing your thunder in the process.

"Well that hog was one tough son of a bitch, huh Y/n?" He asked you with his signature mischievous grin. In your mind you always heavily equated him to a con man. He went over to offer you a hand up, but you brushed it away and got up on your own.

"Yea, whatever Striker."

"Well now darlin', you sound pissed! And why's that?" He smirked, cocking his head to the side as if he didn't already know the answer. Ever since Lin and Joe hired him to help around the farm, he'd taken a great pleasure In showing you up whenever he could. Maybe because you were a woman. maybe because he didn't like not being the only farm hand. Maybe it was just because he found you adorable whenever you got angry. Doesn't matter why, really. You just wish he'd knock it the fuck off.

"I had it handled you know." You said, answering his question without answering it.

"Oh, yea. You really had things handled from the ground." He laughed, "really had the upper hand there."

"I only missed my opening because you distracted me!"

"By being so handsome?" He smirked.

"By being so annoying. What were you yellin' about anyway?" You asked.

"I was tryna see if you had the hog slaughtered yet. The answer was no, by the way."

You rolled your eyes as you hoisted the hog onto your shoulder. Being an imp, the damn thing was almost twice your size, and you struggled with its weight. But knowing Striker was just waiting for you to buckle so he could come in and "save your ass" once again gave you the spite needed to haul it into the kitchen.

"Oh, Y/n!" Ms.Lin sighed as she saw you toss dinner onto the counter to be skinned. "Now why in the 7 rings would you carry that in here all by yourself? Wasn't Striker out there to help?"

You sighed and grit your teeth, knowing Ms.Lin met well. You had injured your shoulder a few days back. She just didn't want to lose another hand. "Don't worry Ms.Lin, I'm not made of sugar," You said as you let out a calming breath. "I've carried these fuckers in 1000 times before, I can keep doin it, on my own." You smiled.

She shook her head. "You know, you can accept help, right? It's kinda what we hired him for." Lin said as she crossed her arms and popped her hip.

"Then fire him." You retorted.

"I knew you were gunnin' for my job." Striker laughed as he walked In, "man, you should seen yourself, strugglin' to carry in that piglet." He snickered. "I wish I'd had thought to record it"

"Well, ya didn't scrub." You hoped, "now are you gonna help us skin this thing or what?"

~~~~

“Hey, Y/n? Quick question, what the fuck was that?” Sallie Mae asked you after dinner. You raised an eyebrow as you finished up the dishes and turned to her. “At dinner,” she added for clarification. “What the fuck was that at dinner?” You were still confused.

“What are you-” you started.

“With Striker.” Sallie groaned. Oh, she met THAT.

“That motherfucker kept kicking me under the table!” you burst. “He was tryna get a fucking rise outta me Sallie Mae, and it worked! What kind of elementary school bullshit was that! And then to act shocked when I kicked him back, who the fuck does he think he is?”

“Y'all we’re playin footsie under the table?” Sallie Mae asked as she crossed her arms. She looked unamused.

“What? No!” you protested. “Did ya not hear me Sallie? I said that cocksucker kicked me, it was full blown war under that table!”

“Mmhmm.” Sallie nodded, not very amused. “So you fuck him yet?” She smirked at your shocked face. Maybe you were oblivious to it, hell maybe even Striker was oblivious to it. But everyone else around you two could see a lot of your problems with each other could be solved with a solid hate fuck.

“Sallie Mae, I swear on all that I hold dear, if you were not my best friend, I would feed you to the Hell Hogs right now.” you growled at her, face flushed with either anger or embarrassment. Or, more likely, a mix of both. “Have I fucked him yet,” you scoffed, “Girl, you know I have standards!” you snapped as you walked away from the conversation, tail swishing angrily behind you.

Sallie wasn’t going to let you get away that easy though. She followed you. “Standards, huh?” Sallie laughed, “How’s that been working out for you lately, Ms.Sahara?” she would use your dry spell against you.

“Just fine thank you!” you snapped. “Even if I hadn’t gotten dick in years, I wouldn’t fuck that snake. Motherfucker has gone out of his way since he got here to disrespect me at every turn.”

“Maybe he thinks you have a degradation kink?” your friend offered.

“What the fuck about me screams degradation kink?” you scoffed.

“Your posture.”

“What?”

“People who want respect in bed dont stand like that Shug. everything about you screams ‘call me a slut daddy.’ I thought you knew that.”

You looked at your friend for a long time trying to figure out where she got off reading you like that. “I take offense to that.” you finally said. Sallie smirked.

“You're only offended cause it’s true, huh?”

“Shut up Sallie Mae.” you scoffed as you got to your room. “Look Hun, it’s been a long day, and I’m tired. I’d like to get to sleep.” you told her as you stretched to pop your back.

“Ok, well just answer this for me,” Sallie said, leaning in close to whisper to you. “Honestly, hand to Satan, have you never even thought about it?” She asked. Have you ever thought of it? What a stupid question, of course you had. You weren't too bitter to admit that Striker was an incredibly handsome imp. One that made you blush the first time you laid eyes on him, something not many men could say. Of course you imagined what fucking him would be like. But that was before he revealed himself to be an incredible ass.

“Not even once.” you said.

“Liar.” Sallie called you on your bluff. You rolled your eyes.

“Good night Sallie Mae.” you said as you closed your door in her face. You scoffed as you went over and plopped on your bed. Sallie had a lot of gaul to have that conversation with you. But, She’d had always been like that. It was why you loved her. Still. That bitch had gotten the thought of Striker stuck in your head.

There was no way in Satan's hell he would actually want you, right? If he did, he wouldn't have been such an ass about everything. This isn't middle school, you don't show a girl you like her by pulling her hair. Not that I would particularly mind if he pulled my hair. You thought. Then physically shook your head to get that thought out of it. No! No! Bad Y/n!! You’re only thinking like that cause you’re horny! You mentally chastised yourself.

Fuck, it really had been awhile, huh? A part of you considered dressing up and going out to a bar to try and get out of this dry spell. Then you remembered that you we’re in the Wrath Ring of hell, and that most of the guys here looked like inbred fuckin toads. Not all of em. Striker’s pretty. Fuck, you gotta get laid. Or at least off.

You hopped off your bed and went to your dresser, looking for old reliable. A small bright pink vibrator lovingly named Barbie. You smiled as it whirled to life in your hand. Who needs another imp when you have Barbie? You rid yourself of your torn jeans and got back on your bed, ready to get down to business. Your legs fell apart and you bit your lip as you started teasing your own clit. Involuntarily, an image of Striker entered your head, pinning you to the bed and running his fingers in between your folds. FUCK. This asshole couldnt even let you have your fucking fantasies. Well…fuck it. He’s already here, you already started, and who knows. Maybe it’ll help get him out of your head.

~~~~~

Striker sat on his bed polishing his knife. And no actually, that's not a euphemism. The man was meticulous about weapon care. He heard you and Sallie talking outside of your room, and rolled his eyes to himself. These walls were impossibly thin, and he hated it. Especially having his room right next to yours, it made it hard for him to do any business on the phone. Couldn’t risk it.

He finished cleaning up his knife and put it back in its holster. He checked the time on his phone and considered turning in for the night. Being a farm hand sucked. He was never one for early mornings, but farm work demanded it. It was a not so small part of why he left the wrath ring to become a gun for hire. Murdering people was genuinely easier for him than getting up at 5 AM. He tossed his phone to the side and laid down.

“Striker.”

Then he heard the unmistakable sound of electricity coming from your side of the wall and instantly sat back up. No fuckig way. He’d been working on this farm for weeks now and had never heard this before. He was starting to think you were a prude. He laughed softly to himself. This was gonna be great ammo against you tomorrow. There was one highlight to being a farm hand, and that was getting to fuck with you every day. You were adorable when you got mad, and it was so easy to rile you up. He quickly decided if he couldn’t fuck you, he would just fuck with you and be content with that.

That caught his fucking attention. The last thing he expected to hear from the otherside of the wall was his name. He didn’t expect the effect it had on him either. Something about the way you sounded so desperate for him made his heart race and his dick ache.

“Striker..Striker please-”

Thank fucking Satan for thin and sin walls. Striker made a mental note to personally thank the king of hell for them. He could hear you so clearly, and yet he still found himself pressed against the wall to hear you better. His hand moved to the crotch of his pants. He plamed himself through the fabric to ease some of the pain. “Fuck darlin’” he groaned out, voice just above a whisper. He didn’t realize just how bad he wanted to fuck you until now.

“St-Striker, fuck me! Please! Fuck me-” you moaned breathlessley through the wall. That was in invitation if Striker had ever heard one.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Striker laughed as he made his way to your room. The panicked ‘meep!” he heard as he left confirmed to him that you did indeed hear him. He’d never been more thankful to share a wall with someone. He got to your door and knocked, then turned the knob experimentally. It was locked. You really were inviting him in, huh? He slipped through the door and could help but smile at the scene before him.

You were glowing with blush, blanket thrown haphazardly between your legs to give yourself some sense of modesty. A hot pink vibrator, slick and abandoned, at the foot of the bed. You were looking at him, but couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. “Ya know darling,” Stiker said as he approached your bed. There was something dark in his eyes, “If you wanted me that bad you could have just asked. But I do appreciate the show ya just put on for me.” he chuckled.

“Why were you listening to me, you creep!” you lashed out in anger, trying to turn this on him and away from you. He didn’t take the bait. He laughed as he caged you into your bed, face just centimeters away from your own.

“It’s kinda hard not to when the whole farm can hear you begging me to fuck you darlin.” he chuckled softly as he ran a hand down your side. It sent shivers down your spine. “Now, the real question is; didja mean it? Or are you just the biggest tease in this ring of hell?” he asked, causing your face to heat up even more with desire.

“I meant it.” you said before your brain could stop you. Fuck it, maybe Sallie Mae was right. Strikers wicked grin alone could almost convince you of that. Stiker grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Good girl.” he said as he pushed his lips into yours. He tasted like coffee and nicotine. You shyly moved your hands to wrap them around his neck. He crawled onto the bed on top of you, finally releasing you of your kiss. His hands ran down to the hem of your shirt. “You got no idea how many nights I imagined doing this.” he rasped, taking your shirt off of you. His smirk only grew. “Black lace, huh? you really are a whore, aren't ya doll?” He tisked as he easily unclasped your bra and threw it to the floor. “They’re prettier than I imagined.” he praised as he ran his thumb over your hardening nipple.

“Are you going to shut up at any point in this?” you scoffed, finding yourself again as you pushed his jacket off his shoulders. You could feel his sculpted chest under his thin shirt and it excited you more than you wanted to admit.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it darlin’.” He grinned. He let you unbutton his vest and rid him of both it and his shirt.

“Mother fucker.” you whispered as you ran your hand along his toned chest. It was covered in scars, both healed and not so healed. You wanted to know the story behind every single one.

“Like what you see?” He asked. You could hear his tail rattling in anticipation. He was more excited for your approval than he was letting on,

“Very much so.” you smiled, finally finding the courage to look into his yellow green hypnotic eyes.

“Right answer.” he chuckled as his hand moved down your body. You tensed instinctively as he reached your cunt. “Fuck Darlin’, I knew you’d be wet, but i wasn’t expecting this wet.” he purred as his fingers ran across your folds. “All this for me?” He teased, fingers finding your clit with the quickness of an expert. You sheepishly nodded as you realized he’d definitely done this more than you had. “I knew you wanted me.” he said smugly as he began to rub circles into your clit, sending electricity soaring through your body.

“Ya like that, Slut?” the cowboy asked you. You nodded in response, focused on the pleasure he was giving you. Until he suddenly stopped.

“Striker!”

“Use your words Doll.” he warned.

“Yes, I liked it! I liked it so much, I kinda wanna punch you for stopping!” you hissed. Striker launched and continued his movements, much to your relief.

“And that's why you're my favorite.” he purred at you. His thumb had taken over rubbing your clit as his fingers began to work your pussy open. “Even when you’re the one in a compromised position, you never lose your fight.” It suddenly struck him that that was a little too intimate than he wanted to get at that moment. So he switched gears and fully pulled you under him. You gasped as you looked up at him. He was only on his knees on top of you, but he still seemed so much taller. It occurred to you just how much bigger than you he was.

“Ya know darlin’,” he stared as he leaned down to kiss your neck, “Ever since I laid eyes on you,” he began to trail kisses down your body. Your neck, your collar bone. Littering marks down your body, “I’ve wanted to know how you taste.” he groaned as he made it to his destination. Your body was on fire with anticipation. He spread your legs for him and let out a low whistle. “Never thought I’d see a cunt as pretty as yours.” he admitted as he kissed the inside of your thighs. He bit gently, sucking marks into your soft skin. He wanted whoever may be here next to know you were his first. Finally, he made his way to where you desperately wanted him most. He smirked at you one last time before licking at your clit.

Your whole body jolted at his touch, as if it was made to react to him and only him. He sucked at your clit as his fingers began to work you open. “Fuck Striker, how dare you be this good at head.” you groaned as your hands knocked his hat off and tangled into his hair. You could hear him laugh from in between your legs, but didn't really care. His fingers began to massage you from inside, quickly finding the spot that would surely make you see stars. “Fuck!” you gasped as your back arched and your legs tried to clamp around his head. Striker would be the one man you’d been with able to find the G-Spot.

He used his free hand to keep your legs open. “Careful now Sweetheart. You wouldn't want me to stop now would ya?” He asked in the most condescending tone you’d ever heard.

“Fuck, no! No, you asshole, don't stop.” you almost screamed when his fingers stopped moving. “You bitch! What the fuck did I just fucking say?!” you all but yelled at him.

“Say it nicely.” he grinned at you.

“Fuck you.”

“I know you want to Doll.”

“I'm going to kick you.”

“I’ll leave,” he threatened.

“Fuck no!” well that was more desperate than you wanted it to be. “No no! Don't leave! Just…Fuck, please don’t stop Sir! Please, I need you.” you moaned. You almost cried when not only did his fingers start going again, but he added a third.

“Good girl.” he praised, his head dipping back in between your legs. He began sucking harshly at your clit, massaging it with his tongue and tying the knot in your stomach tighter and tighter. Your hands found their way to his hair again, and you found yourself bucking into his face. You felt your body tense and your pussy flutter.

“Striker, I’m Close.”

“I know.” he muttered from between your legs.

“How?!”

“You’re not exactly hiding it sweetheart.” he laughed, picking up the pace ever so slightly, forcing you to forget the argument at hand as your vision exploded with stars and electricity ran through your body. “Fuck, fuckfuckfuck fuck!!” you yelled, your legs closing around his head and your hands pulling him closer. Striker realized he couldn't breathe, and decided that yes. This was how he wanted to die. With his fingers working you through your orgasam as he lapped up as much of you as he could. “Dear fucking Satan.” you moaned as you released the cowboy. Your legs still shook with the aftershock of your orgasam. It had been awhile since you had sex, yea. But it had been even longer since someone made you feel like that.

Striker smiled as he wiped his mouth and sat back up. “Feel good Sweetheart?” he purred to you. You nodded blissfully. He smiled and gently tucked a strand of your hair back. You nodded, your brain still unable to form words. “That's great Doll. We’re not done yet.” he informed you. “Good.” you chuckled, causing him to smile. You watched as he freed himself from his jeans, and couldn't help the blush that formed on your face. Of course, it wasn’t enough for him to just have a pretty face. Oh no, he had to have a pretty dick too.

“Fuck man, how’s it feel to be Satans favorite?” you huffed.

“Isn’t that more of a question for yourself, Gorgeous?” Striker asked as he pumped his dick a few times. He bit his lip as he looked down at your body. He wanted to remember every curve you had. Every scar, stretch mark, birthmark, everything. He wanted to own it. He wanted to own you. He dug his teeth into your neck as he began to push himself into your cunt. You screamed, the mix of pleasure and pain taking over your body as he sunk into your still sensitive cunt. You could feel him sucking a mark into your neck. You knew there would be questions in the morning. You didn’t care.

“Striker, God damn. You’re too fucking much.” you groaned, trying to turn your head to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“You feel so fucking good Y/n.” he breathed to you. “Like you were fucking made for me. Made to be a sleeve for my cock, made to be mine.” he growled. Fuck that alone send ice down your spine. You were not prepared for him to start moving, pumping into you like he was on a mission. He set a brutal pace. Your legs wrapped around his hips to keep up. You clawed into his back, determined to leave marks of your own on him. It was only fair.

His tail tangled with yours as his hand tangled into your hair. “I’ve been waiting for this for way too long” he huffed, “Do you know how many times I thought about bending you over and putting you in your fucking place? Shit darlin’ if i knew it would be this good i would have done it sooner.” he repositioned himself to stroke at the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you. It was too much.

You groaned and bit the fuck out his his shoulder, causing him to help, then laugh, but never falter in his thrusts. He was a professional after all. He pulled your hair, forcing you to release him. “Fuck darlin, we bitin’ now?” he laughed, as if he did not just leave a very prominent mark on your neck. “I-it’s only f-fair!” you argused, struggling to make coherent thoughts. He smiled almost softly and tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck to you. “If ya gonna leave a mark on me, might as well go big or go home.” he challenged. He desperately wanted everyone to know what happened tonight. And while the thin walls would assure that for the people that lived on the farm, he wanted the entirety of hell to know.

And you were far too cock drunk to think of the consequences. You buried your fangs into his neck, savoring the hiss of pain he let out. He tugged gently at your hair one last time, before using that hand for support instead, and using his now freed hand to rub almost violent circles into your clit. You let out a high pitched and breathy moan into his neck. He could feel your pussy flutter around him, a clear sign you were close.

“Fuck, you gonna come for me twice Darlin?” he groaned. As if on cue the knot inside your stomach snapped in two and you screamed into his neck, your legs clamping around him as your body spasmed with the heat of your second orgasam for the night. And shit, you we’re fucking gorguous. “Y/n, I’m close,” Striker warned as he realized you we’re not letting him go. “Y/n, let go, I-”

“Cum in me.” you moaned. He did not need to be told twice. He picked up his pace, pounding into your spent pussy before his own orgasam finally overtook him. He rode out his orgasam, shooting red hot cum into your cervix. His best move? Definitely not. But that was a problem for tomorrow Stiker and Y/n. Tonight Striker and Y/n couldn't get over how hot the whole ordeal was. Finally he slowed to a stop. He lightly tapped your thigh and you finally let your legs fall to the bed.

“Shit Darlin’ I knew you’d be good, but..fuck.” Striker laughed, causing you to swell with pride for being the reason he had that reaction. He pulled out, leaving you feeling more empty than you expected.

“You’re a good lay.” you laughed as he rolled over next to you.

“Why thank ya,” he laughed with you instead of at you for once. He pulled you into his arms, and you didn’t protest. He was warm. “So do we go back to hating each other in the mornin’, or?..” he asked, rubbing gentle circles into your hips.

“In the mornin’? Yes. buut I wouldn’t be against this happening again, so I guess we can like each other at night.” you giggled. He chuckled and nodded.

“Alright, I can get behind that. It’s a start.” he nodded, snuggling up to you. You hadn’t kicked him out of bed yet, might as well enjoy it. Suddenly, there was a loud knock at your door, causing you both to panic.

“So Y'all are done feudin’ now, right?” Sallie Mae’s almost jovial voice came from the other side.

“SALLIE I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!” you yelled from your bed as Striker laughed his ass off next to you.

#striker helluva boss #striker x oc #striker x reader #striker x reader smut #striker smut #helluva boss #degrade kink #top striker #slight romance #voyuerism #if ya squint #norman reedus #enemies to lovers

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upstartgeek · 24 hours

Text

life hack: you can get these sugar scrub miniverse balls and just use them as candy jars. it's perfectly legal!

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geobuster · 6 months

Text

Bathbombs don't actually explode

A very amateur x reader one shot featuring Anton

I kinda headcannon he just assumed anything with bomb in its title actually explodes

It's just fluff

( ´∀｀ )b

Throwing down the last few bags from your shopping haul, you take a breath and look over the table and all your assortment of goods. Candles, various types of skincare products, and probably one too many bath bombs lie in front of you. It was supposed to be your night out with Anton, but after hearing how tired he was over the phone earlier, you decided to switch plans and surprise him with a much more relaxing alternative, a nice relaxing spa night.

Looking down at the assortment of bathbombs on the table, contemplating whether you should have even gotten that many. You think back to when you walked into that shop. A wave of fragrances strong enough to push someone away had hit you. Various soaps, sugar scrubs, and other bath products overflowed the shelves. What scent were you even supposed to get? Rose? citrus? Maybe a vanilla? The lady at the shop suggested lavender, it's supposed to be soothing. Or at least that's what the lady said. Maybe she was just saying it to sell you something. But it's too late now, you've already bought everything and don't think you could return bath bombs.

The water ran out the faucet, causing a soothing crash to fill the bathroom. It was a nice warm temperature, perfect for a stressful day. Dumping in some sort of soap you watch the bubbles form. It felt a little childish, but who cared? No one else would have been in that room besides you two. A candle had been placed within sight of the tub, not wanting it to be too close to the water nor did you needed it catching anything on fire. A soft floral scent fills the air after a bit of preparation. And it seemed you finished just in time as you could hear the door being opened and almost slammed shut.

It took a bit of convincing to get Anton to agree with having a spa night. His stubborn attitude made it difficult to convince him a bath like this would help soothe him after his rough day. But after some time, he gave in, still rather skeptical about it all. He sits in the tub as you scrub the top of his head while you talk about your day. He grunts occasionally in response, feeling you hands scrub through his rough and spiked hair. A moment or so passes as Anton has sunken down into the tub. His head just poking out from above the water as you rinse his hair out.

Putting on the conditioner you remember about the bath bombs. Anton's eyes lit up ever so slightly as he watched you run out from the bathroom and come back. Pulling a purple one out from the bag, you plop it into the tub and watch it fizz. The water and bubbles turning a soft purple and the smell of lavender fills the room. The two of you watch it as it eventually sizzles out. Anton looked rather confused and began asking where was the bomb, the ball just fizzled out, that wasn't a bomb, that was a fizzy something. Explaining didn't seem to help at all. "Well why would you call it a bomb if it doesn't explode?" He says, crossing his arms as you wash out the conditioner in his hair. He wasn't wrong, but the concept of an actual explosive for you bath didn't sound really fun.

After getting out from the tub, you let Anton dry his hair himself, the sounds if the blow dryer from a room away can be heard as you lie down in bed. You yawn as you look up at the ceiling, hoping that Anton had enjoyed your alternative to a night out. And as you get comfortable, a thump can be heard followd by the sounds of the bed's springs creeking. Two arms wrap around you and pull you in closer. Anton places his chin on your shoulder, his spiked and almost sharp beard poking your cheek. He let's out a sigh as he wraps himself a little closer to you. The two of you lied there cuddled. Bits of lavender fill the air and Antons snoring can be heard. It wasn't a big extravagant night like you had hoped it to be, but it was an enjoyable and comforting one in the end.

#pls be nice to me this is my first time writing this #also any criticisms is apreciated #no beta we die like those ballbusters in boiler city #antonblast x reader #Dynamite Anton x reader #fluff

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l1ft-l1ft1ng-l1ft3d · 1 year

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What I l1ft3d from 4/1/2023 - 4/30/2023

American Eagle Outfitters:

- Rolling Stones oversized crewneck sweatshirt

Barnes & Noble:

- 7 books (4/2/2023)

- Paper Source Scantron tote bag

- San Francisco tote bag

- 6 books (4/6/2023)

- 8 books (4/8/2023)

- 5 books (4/11/2023)

- 7 books (4/16/2023)

- B&N canvas tote bag - black + gold (4/16/2023)

- 4 books (4/17/2023)

- Out of Print Library tote bag

- 7 books (4/22/2023)

- 4 books (4/25/2023)

- 1 book (4/27/2023)

CVS:

- CeraVe Psoriasis Moisturizing Cream

- Get Well greeting card

- Okabashi slides (coral)

- RawSugar Sugar Scrub (Pineapple + Maqui Berry + Coconut)

- Scünci 2-pcs Scrunchies (blue tie-dye + blue paisley)

- Scünci 1-pc Scrunchie (orange + peach tie dye)

- Kitsch satin pillowcase (Aura)

- Weleda Skin Food Light Nourishing Cream

- CeraVe Skin Renewing Night Cream

Dick's Sporting Goods:

- Nike crewneck logo sweatshirt (white)

- 47 Giants pullover hoodie (gray)

- Stanley H2O Quencher H2.0 Tumbler - 40 oz (rose gold)

- Nike crewneck pullover sweatshirt (lavender)

- North Face crewneck pullover sweatshirt (marine blue)

- 47 Sacramento Kings long-sleeve graphic t-shirt

- Nike Hydrastrong one-piece swim suit (black)

- Hydroflask lunch box

- Nike crewneck pullover sweatshirt (guava pink)

- Stanley H2O Quencher H2.0 Tumbler - 40 oz (gray)

- The North Face Pride tote bag

- Nike crewneck pullover sweatshirt (beige)

- Stanley 30 oz. Ice Flow Tumbler with Flip Straw (Lavender)

- 2 Adidas hats (blue & pastel green)

- Calia foam slides (gray)

- Body Glide Foot Glide Stick

- SKLZ Targeted Massage Ball

Hobby Lobby:

- Metal Earth 1908 Ford Model T Steel Model Kit (for Dad)

- Metal Earth 1965 Ford Mustang Steel Model Kit (for Dad)

- GellyRoll Moonlight Gel Pen set (10 pcs)

- Perler Clear Pegboards (5 pcs.)

- Perler 6000 beads bag

- Dumbo applique patch

- Winnie the Pooh Iron-On Patch Set

- Peanuts Iron-On patch

- Fabric remnant (black + white dogs)

Hollister:

- Matisse graphic t-shirt

- Sunset tie-dye hoodie

Home Goods:

- Porter 2-pcs Silicone Bags

- Eco Seroa Set of 20 Reusable Kitchen Towels

- OXO Steel Pop Container - 2.1 qt

- OXO Steel Pop Container - 0.2 qt

- Progressive silicone microwave turntable protector

J.C. Penney:

- 2 pairs Adidas tennis shoes

- Levi's graphic t-shirt (gray)

- Wrangler High Rise Vintage 3" Shorts (black)

- Wrangler Roll Shorts

- Levi's 501 cut off shorts

- 4 Levi's graphic t-shirts (black, navy, orange, lime green)

- Wrangler crop graphic t-shirt (pale yellow)

- Wrangler graphic t-shirt (gray)

- ANA 1/2 button down tunic blouse (army green)

- Puma DryCell athletic shorts

- Levi's 711 Skinny jeans

- Wrangler High Rise Rodeo Straight Crop jeans

- 3 Levi's t-shirts (2 white / 1 blue)

- Wrangler t-shirt (rust)

- Levi's 501 Original jeans (gray)

- Rebok leggings

- Rebok sports bra

- ANA short sleeve t-shirt

Lowe's:

- Style Selections Plastic Soap Dish

- Yardsmith Hand Tool Weeder (** for Mom **)

- 2 packs of weed whacker "string"

Macy's:

- Ralph Lauren pajama set (blue + white stripes)

- Calvin Klein Performance quarter zip hoodie (gray)

- Levi's cropped peasant blouse (cream)

- Levi's graphic crewneck sweatshirt (navy)

- Levi's High Rise Mom Jean Shorts

- And Now This bodysuit (black)

- Rebok full-zip hoodie (tangerine)

- Levi's High Rise Mom Jeans (distressed)

- Levi's white button down linen short sleeve shirt

- Levi's ribbed t-shirt (pink + white stripes)

- Levi's graphic t-shirt (periwinkle)

- Jenni short pajama set (chambray)

- Ralph Lauren terry cloth bathrobe (white)

- Ralph Lauren light bathrobe (gray)

- Levi's Ex-Boyfriend Trucker Jacket (cream)

- Levi's ribbed scoop-neck crop t-shirt (blue, yellow, lime green)

- And Now This bodysuit (cream)

- Ralph Lauren light bathrobe (navy)

- Ralph Lauren pajama set (gray w/white stripes)

- Levi's 501 Shorts (medium blue denim)

- Levi's graphic t-shirt (cream)

- Calvin Klein Performance full-zip hoodie (olive)

- Levi's 501 cut off shorts (light blue)

- Levi's corduroy jacket w/sherpa collar

- Rebok full-zip sweatshirt (lavender)

- Ralph Lauren button-down sleep shirt (blue + white stripes)

- Short-sleeve + shorts pajama set (flowers + smiley faces)

- Levi's 501 Skinny jeans

- Ralph Lauren pajama set (*** For Mom! ** pink + blue paisley - size M)

- Ralph Lauren button-down sleep shirt (pink + white stripes)

- Levi's ribbed scoop-neck shirt (blue + white stripes)

- Calvin Klein Performance full-zip hoodie (pea green)

- Calvin Klein Performance ribbed v-neck long sleeve shirt (gray)

- Columbia microfleece full zip sweater (hot pink)

- Ralph Lauren pajama set (navy blue + white polka dots - capri bottoms)

- Levi's graphic t-shirt (salmon)

- Levi's flannel button-down shirt (brown, black + white)

- Columbia full zip fleece sweater

- Ralph Lauren pajama set (blue + white paisley)

- 2 Wacoal bras

- Ralph Lauren pajama set (pink + blue paisley)

- Levi's ribbed button-down t-shirt

- Levi's flannel button down shirt

Michael's Crafts

- Scotch Thermal Laminator

Target:

- EOS Shea Better 24H Moisture Body Lotion (Vanilla Cashmere)

- E.L.F. Luminous Putty Primer

- Bananagrams game

- Brita Elite 10 Cup water filtration pitcher

- Byoma Balancing Face Mist

- Byoma Melting Balm Cleanser

- Mielle Rosemary Mint Strengthening Hair Masque

- TruSkin Vitamin C Super Serum +

- Rowenta X-Cel Steam Easy garment steamer

- TruSkin Vitamin C Facial Serum

- Threshold recycled glass soap dish

- Good Chemistry Magnolia Violet perfume

- E.L.F Luminous Putty Primer

- ColourPop Feather Effect Styling Wax

- ColourPop Feather Effect Brow Brush

- OXO 3-Piece Suction Bath Set

- C4 Ultimate Pre-Workout (Icy Blue Razz)

- Keurig Descale & Cleanse Starter Kit

- Squatty Potty Bamboo Flip stool

- Peds Mid Cut socks (6 pack)

- Pacifica Indian Coconut Nectar perfume

- Hero Rescue Balm

- Pixi On-the-Glow Bronze (Rich Glow)

- Pixi On-the-Glow Blush (Juicy)

- Pixi On-the-Glow Blush (Ruby)

- Revlon Oil Absorbing Roller

- Revlon Facial Roller Refill

- EcoTools Body Gua Sha

- OXO 3-Piece Bath Suction Set

- OXO Hair Catch Drain Protector

- OXO 7-Piece Clip Set

Ulta:

- Philosophy Amazing Grace Eau de Parfum

- Philosophy Amazing Grace Shampoo, Bath & Shower Gel

- Mario Badescu Facial Spray with Aloe, Herbs and Rosewater

- Hero Force Shield Superfood Serum Stick

- Bumble & Bumble BB Bond-Building Repair Oil Serum

- Bumble & Bumble BB Hairdresser's Invisible Oil

- Fur Oil (2.5 FL oz.)

- Drunk Elephant Lippe Balm

- Mario Badescu Drying Lotion

- Briogeo Farewell Frizz Smoothing Shampoo

- Lanolips Lip Water

- Bumble & Bumble Bb Hairdresser's Invisible Oil Heat/UV Protective Primer

- Cosrx Advanced Snail Peptide Eye Cream

- Drunk Elephant C-Tango Multivitamin Eye Cream

- Lanolips Glossybalms (Berry)

Walgreen's:

- Aveeno Eczema Therapy Rescue Relief Treatment Gel Cream

- Microban 24 Hour Sanitizing Spray (Citrus Scent)

- CeraVe Healing Ointment (5 oz.)

- Shea Moisture 100% Pure Jamaican Black Castor Oil

- Billie Razor Dream Pop Starter Kit

- Billie Razor Malibu travel razor case

- Differin Dark Spot Correcting Serum

- La Roche-Posay Toleriane Double Repair Matte Moisturizer

- Kristin Ess Weightless Hydration Daily Scalp + Hair Mask

- Olay Hyaluronic Nourishing + Hydrating Body Lotion

- CoverGirl Color Correcting Serum Moisturizer Primer (Redness Neutralizer)

- Essie Hard To Resist Advanced nail strengthener

- Essie Speed-Setter top coat

- The Honest Co. Gently Nourishing Bubble Bath (Sweet Almond)

- Olly Extra Strength Sleep gummies (70-count)

- Scünci 5-Pcs Headwraps

- Dr. Bronner's Lavender Organic Hand Sanitizer

- G2 Limited Edition Mineral Art Premium Gel Roller pens (4-count)

- Aveno Daily Moisturizing Body Oil Mist

- Gimme Thick Hair bands (6 pcs - black)

- The Original Make Up Eraser 7- Day Set (black)

- Shea Moisture Pink Himalayan Salt Relaxing Bar Soap

- Goli Ashwaganda Gummies

- Scünci 5-piece headwraps

VS Pink:

- Embroidered Logo crewneck pullover sweatshirt

- Logo full zip sweater (pink)

- Logo full zip sweater (cream)

- Flared yoga pants w/fold-over waistband

- Black leggings

- Short pajama set

Total: 245 items

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eating-the-inedible · 1 year

Text

Here is a list of the inedibles that will be in this bracket

Lava

Orbeez

Orange Joe (fictional "beverage" that's a combination of orange juice and coffee)

Doll shoes

Dirt

Pen caps

Mercury

Watermelon tourmaline

Comet/scouring powder

Moss

Paper towels

Play-Doh

Drywall

Marbles

DVD

Dice

Kinetic Sand

Coins

Fiberglass insulation

3DS Stylus

Plastic Bottle Cap

Chapstick

Babybell Cheese Wax

Paper

Bouncy ball

Human meat

Venus (planet)

Cascade dishwasher pods

Acrylic Paint

Magnets

Molten glass

Pens

Sea glass

Silica gel packet

Leaves

Cocoa butter lotion

Antifreeze

Pencil Toppers, the lil eraser things

Sand

Tumbled amethyst

Rubber Ducks

The rubber balls from the game Cranium Cariboo

Polly pocket clothes

Poison Dart Frog

Snow

0.1 uF Film Capacitor

The sun

Metal

Eraser

Tide pods

Phone charger wire

Those free wooden pencils you get at ikea (just the wood shell not the lead)

Liquid nitrogen

Aquarium gravel

the weird science juice in the beakers in those stock images

Origami star

Styrofoam cup

Sticky note

Collar of shirt

This submission form

Plastic straws

Glow sticks

Oil paintings

Candle wax

Glass

Nickel sulfate solution/Nickel plating solution

Silicone wristbands

Seatbelt

The wax paper under your Poutine

Forearm (doesn't have to be one's own)

Asbestos

Candy wrapper

“Okay so technically this is edible but I’ve had urges to just take a huge bite out of certain sea creatures before. Like just a chunk from an orca or dolphin or great white or seal, etc.”

“Those stupid wooden spoons”

Furbies

Scotch tape

Artificial grapes (the wax/plastic ones for display)

phone

THE FLESH OF MY ENEMIES

Crystals

Fire

The goo inside Stretch Armstrong

Headphone wire

Raw steak

Art

Small colorful rubber bands

Tinfoil

Pencil lead

Cattails (the plant)

Foamy soap

Liquid soap

Bar soap

Flourite

Shiny rocks

Grass

A hunk of random fish swimming by

A live goldfish

Toothpaste

Styrofoam

Price Tag Fasteners

The moon

Pool noodles

Smol frog

Destroying angel mushroom

the smoke coming out of the grain refineries two Mike's out of Gary, Indiana, Usa

Popsicle sticks

Cardboard

My hat

The tiny rocks in school playgrounds

Gasoline

Blue laundry detergent

Spray foam insulation

Battery corrosion

Fiber optic cables

Packing peanuts

Your mother

Pond water

Dry ice

Alkali metals

Chocolate shampoo

Ping pong ball

Bricks, like the stuff you'd build with. Minecraft bricks even, if you want

Hoodie drawstrings

Horse treats

Chalk

Copper (II) Sulphate Water / Blue Science Rock + Blue Science Juice

Ink

Floam

Fabric Paint

Oil paint

that one art piece of the banana taped to the wall

the hotdog somebody encased in resin

“the thin lego plates not the base plates but like the lego piece thats like 2x8 and they kinda look like hershey chocolate bar pieces”

One of those little hamsters

Model magic

Battery Acid (the drink)

manchineel apple

Rubber band ball

The lava lamp liquid

Blood

Rosin

Wax apples

That cake decoration that came with your slice and you're like 90% sure it's not edible... but what if ?

Soap bubble

Lush cosmetics' products

Plushies

Strawberry Shortcake's dolls with scented hair

Wood

Glue

Salt lamp

People who think children are not worth their consideration

Tarmac

Shampoo

Pennies

Poisonous berries

Chunky soft yarn

Crayons

Rock

“whatever the Chuck E Cheese Ticket Muncher Machine is eating (it's not the tickets) (or the sound itself but that's neither a solid nor a liquid so this is just kind of holding hands with the hypothetical ticket muncher food)”

Snow globe liquid

Chisel tip whiteboard marker

Raw dough

Raw fuckin cactus. alive

Grape agate

Car seat

Succulents

Keys

Lock pick

Scrub daddy

Molten sugar

Allergens

Lightning bolts

“Bark dust. Like the dirt/bark dust that's under the bark chips on a playground. Not the chips themselves. The dust.”

Clear deodorant

Apple earbud wires

Eggshells

Squinkies

Hello kitty sweatshirt zipper

Preshredded mozzarella cheese

Scrap metal

Rose

All of the rocks at a crystal shop

Origami polyhedron model

Bubbles mixture

Cupcake liners

Hair gel

Curtain rods

Incense sticks

Incense cones

Metal thing that attaches eraser to pencil

Windshield wiper fluid

Plastic pencil grips

Wooden ice cream spoon

Book

Tree

The liquid in levels

Vanilla extract

Aroace flag

Coil incense

California state testing “next question” button

Spackle

Forbidden coal iron french fries

Garage doors that look like chocolate bars

Plastic takeout box

Velvet

Weird anime girl hair

Freezable gel ice pack

Clouds

Necklace chains

Nail polish

Pencil Shavings

Pool floats

Bao Dumpling

Spray deodorant

0.1 uF Ceramic Capacitor

Vanillish (Pokémon)

Fondant

Really fancy pillars

Computers

Favorite song

Tumblr

“THE LITTLE ORBS IN THE MOUSE (aka trackballs)”

“Any cutesy anime character like Chopper or Pikachu”

Wooden fan blades

Balsa wood sticks

Those blankets that look like tortillas

Microwave

Milk and golden honey softsoap

Batteries

1x2 lego pieces

Light bulbs

Slightly melted lounge chair

Cork (the material)

Pineapple coke

Fingernails

Sparkly lipgloss

Race Car Tire Marble

Gold trophies

Konjac sponge

Shirt

Mandy the Slayer / Orange Spyderco Dragonfly Knife

Malachite

Heater

Glasses Temples

Typewriter keys

EVA foam

Airplane

Sword

Crumbs in the couch

Children

My wife's arm/shoulder

Records

Yellow ACE bandages

Neon Signs

Scented candles

#Im pretty sure i included everything that was submitted #eating the inedible #not a poll #sorry this is a bit chunky #masterlist of inedibles

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