#Eyelash hacks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

literaryvein-reblogs · 10 months ago

Note

what are some ways to describe people other than eye and hair color

I am assuming you are looking for physical descriptors. Here are some examples. I may just make a different post on psychological descriptors.

Arms: Long, Muscular, Pudgy, Short, Skinny, Thin

Back: Bent, Hunched, Ramrod Straight, Rounded

Build: Anorexic, Athletic, Beefy, Brawny, Burly, Chubby, Coltish, Compact, Fat, Gangly, Gaunt, Gawky, Haggard, Heavy-set, Herculean, Husky, Lanky, Lithe, Muscular, Obese, Overweight, Petite, Rangy, Reed-like, Scrawny, Skinny, Slender, Slight, Solid, Spindly, Statuesque, Stocky, Strapping, Sylphlike, Taut, Thickset, Thin, Trim, Underweight, Voluptuous, Well-built, Willowy, Withered

Cheeks: Blushing, Bold, Curved, Dimpled, Bold, Curved, Dimpled, Disturbed, Glorious, Glowing, Hairless, High (cheekbones), Hollow, Honey, Livid, Pale, Pallid, Pink, Plump, Puffy, Radiant, Reddened, Rosy, Rounded, Ruddy, Shining, Smooth, Soft, Sun-burnt, Sun-bronzed, Sunken, Sun-tanned, Tanned, Tearful, White

Chin: Angular, Bony, Bumpy, Chiseled, Defined, Doughy, Firm, Protruding, Round, Smooth, Soft, Square, Strong

Ears: Jug-like, Large, Protruding, Tiny

Eyebrows: Arching, Bushy, Emphasized, Near, Spaced, Thick, Thin

Eyelashes: Artificial, Beaded, Beautiful, Blinking, Dark, Dark-fringed, Dense, Dusky, Heavily-fringed, Long, Mascaraed, Sandy, Sooty, Sopping, Tear-drenched, Thick, Uplifted

Eyes: Almond-shaped, Bright, Bulging, Expressive, Frightened, Gentle, Languishing, Little, Luminous, Made-up, Round, Shining, Shortsighted, Smart, Stunned, Thin, Wide, Woeful

Face: Baby, Blood-stained, Bold, Chiseled, Contorted, Dead, Expressionless, Fair, Familiar, Fierce, Flat, Frightened, Furrowed, Honest, Indifferent, Little, Pale, Poker, Pretty, Radiant, Rough, Ruddy, Sallow, Square, Stained, Swollen, Trim, Weather-beaten, Wry

Feet: Athlete's, Big, Flat, Pigeon-toed, Small, Sore, Stinky, Stubby, Swollen

Fingers: Gnarled, Long, Short, Stubby

Finger Nails: Bitten, Broken, Claw-like, Dirty, Hooked, Long, Painted, Sharp, Talon-like

Hair: Afro, Bald, Beehive, Braided, Bristles, Bun, Chignon, Coiffure, Combed, Corkscrew, Corn rows, Cowlicked, Crew cut, Curly, Disarrayed, Disheveled, Dreadlocks, Dry, Flattop, Flecked, French braid, French twist, Fringe, Greasy, Grizzled, Knotted, Layered, Locks, Matted, Messed up, Mohawk, Mussy, Muttonchops, Neat, Oily, Page boy, Perm, Pigtails, Plait, Pompadour, Ponytail, Ragged, Receding, Ringlets, Ruffled, Shaggy, Shorn, Shoulder-length, Skinhead, Spiky, Split-ended, Straight, Tangled, Thick, Thinning, Tidy, Topknot, Tousled, Twisted, Uncombed, Unshorn, Untidy, Wavy, Wiry, Wisps

Hand: Big, Elegant, Small

Height: Big, Knee-high, Medium, Short, Shoulder-high, Sky-high, Small, Tall, Towering, Waist-high

Legs: Amputated, Bandy, Bony, Bowed, Brawny, Bulging, Fluted, Gartered, Gouty, Graceful, Hacked, Hairy, Jagged, Knotted, Leaden, Long, Lower, Muscular, Pitiful, Rickety, Shapely, Shivering, Short, Sinewy, Slender, Slim, Spindle, Stockinged, Sturdy, Thin, Thread-like, Tinder, Tiny, Toothsome, Tree trunks

Lips: Blue, Cracked, Cupid's Bow, Downturned, Dry, Fat, Full, Grim, Large, Luscious, Parched, Parted, Red, Ruby, Small, Smiling, Thin, Wet

Mouth: Arch, Ascetic, Baby, Cavernous, Churning, Compressed, Cooing, Coral, Cracked, Cruel, Delicate, Dumpled, Distended, Dry, Fine, Firm, Frothy, Full, Funnel-shaped, Gaping, Grim, Handsome, Hungry, Insistent, Irritable, Large, Luscious, Munching, Musty, Perilous, Puckered, Querulous, Relaxed, Resolute, Sardonic, Sensuous, Serious, Slobbering, Small, Sulky, Sweet, Tender, Thin, Wide, Winsome, Wrinkled, Yawning

Neck: Bullnecked, Elegant, Long, Short, Swan-like, Thick

Palm: Broad, Oval, Rectangular, Square

Skin: Acned, Alabaster, Albino, Apricot, Black, Blemished, Blistered, Blooming, Blotchy, Blushing, Bronzed, Cadaverous, Calloused, Caramel, Clear, Craggy, Cream, Ebony, Fair, Flush, Freckled, Glowing, Greasy, Ivory, Jaundiced, Leathery, Lily-white, Lined, Milky, Mottled, Nut-brown, Olive, Pale, Pallid, Pasty, Peeling, Pimpled, Pink, Pitted, Pockmarked, Red, Rosy, Rough, Ruddy, Russet, Sallow, Scabby, Scarred, Smooth, Splotchy, Spotty, Sun-burnt, Tan, Wan, Waxen, White, Wrinkled, Yellow

Stomach: Bulging, Distended, Empty, Firm, Flabby, Flat, Heroic, Hollow, Lean, Paunchy, Protruding, Unbounded

Teeth: Artificial, Black, Blunted, Buck, Canine, Chattering, Clenched, Clinched, Compressed, Crooked, Dagger-like, Dazzling, Decayed, Deciduous, Extracted, False teeth, Feeble, Ferocious, Filed, Flashing, Fluoridated, Foam-laced, Fractured, Gap-toothed, Gleaming, Glistening, Glittering, Gnashing, Goofy, Grinding, Hooked, Horrid, Ivory, Jagged, Lacquered, Large, Milky, Mottled, Neglected, Pearly, Perfect, Pretty, Protruding, Razor-like, Sharp, Shining, Short, Small, Snowy, Sore, Spaced, Straight, Sweet tooth, Tender, Tiny, Toothless, Toothy, Ugly, Unrelenting, White, Wisdom, Wolfish, Yellow

Hope this helps! If it does, do tag me or send me a link to your writing. I'd love to read your work.

More: On Character Development

4K notes · View notes

batsandbirdbrains · 2 months ago

Text

The one where the Gotham rogues are very territorial over their favorite bird

I always thought it was odd how in season one of young justice, neither Bane nor Robin acknowledged that Bane is a Gotham villain when they met on Santa Prisca. So I give u some ideas of the team encountering Gotham rogues and said rogues only giving a shit about Robin bc no one is as good as their little bird. And also if another non-Gotham villain they’re working with tries to do anything to Robin? That’s not gonna fly.

Like just imagine during that first Santa Prisca episode, when they have Bane tied up to a tree or whatever and M’gann is trying to read his mind for information, Bane straight up rolls his eyes at her, and turns to Robin.

“Tell your little sidekick friends not to announce their psychic abilities before actually using them,” Bane scoffs.

And when M’gann immediately responds with, “he’s reciting football scores, en español,” Robin straight up snorts and hides his grin behind his hands. Because come on dude why would you TELL the bad guy you’re gonna read his mind before you actually do it? Amateur move.

“It’s their first real mission,” Robin tells Bane, as if telling him it’s his baby sibling’s first time playing tee ball, an exaggerated grin on his face and his hands clasped by his cheek. Bane can just tell he’s batting his eyelashes behind the mask.

“Clearly.”

And all the others get annoyed because Robin is bantering with the enemy.

“Will you stop encouraging him!” Wally snaps, unsure if he’s directing it towards Bane or Robin.

Bane ends up helping them because he for some strange reason has a soft spot for Robin. Maybe Bane calls him something like murciélago baby, and it makes Robin straight up pout at him. He’s not a baby. He’s a whole teenager now, and Bane knows it.

Robin knew Bane was only going to help them so much, so he’s not shocked when that comes like everyone else is. He just gives Bane an exaggerated salute before running the other direction.

When the creepy Kobra guy is fighting with Robin later on? Bane does not like that. Not one bit. Once the kiddies leave, Bane kicks the crap out him.

In another mission, they have a run in with the Penguin, who just straight up groans when he catches sight of Robin.

“You again!” Robin is smothering an actual giggle at how exasperated Penguin sounds. “Tell the Bat to come deal with me himself!”

“But Uncle Ozzy!” Everyone can hear the grin he has in his face. “Didn’cha miss me? I missed you!”

The team is frozen in their spots, unsure of what angle Robin is trying to play. Also, did he just call the Penguin his uncle? Superboy is trying to figure out if that’s actually his uncle. It would explain why Robin is so short.

And when that thought goes through the mind link, Robin throws an actual birdarang at him. Rude. He’s not short he’s a gymnast and he’s a perfectly respectable height thank you!

The team ends up watching and Robin dances around the warehouse, dodging shots and taking out Penguin’s hired thugs all at the same time. By the time he’s taken them all out, he’s actually beaming as he stands in front of a very frustrated looking Oswald Cobblepot.

“Listen kid,” he somehow sounds fond, exhausted, and gruff all at the same time, “I don’t wanna see your hide around here for at least a month after this, got it? I’ve seen enough of you!”

“Aww, you didn’t miss me?” Robin is twirling Penguin’s umbrella in his hands, and no one can figure out when he snatched it.

“Fine, yes, I missed you. Even though I saw you three nights ago with the Bat!” Penguin now has his hands tied behind his back.

“Yeah but B is a sourpuss, he’s no fun,” Robin chirps. “Our games are much more fun when it’s just us!”

“I’m gonna roast you like a chicken one of these days, bird boy.”

“See! You’d never say that with B around!”

Robin is off to the side now, hacking through Penguin’s phone to find the files he wanted. They’re still going back and forth at each other, and the team is just standing awkwardly around trying to figure out how to be helpful.

“And don’t bring these goody-two-shoes kids around here again!” Penguin snaps at him. “They barely lifted a finger the whole fight, they’re useless!”

“But they’re my friends!”

Artemis scoffs when she realize Robin didnt even try to prove that they arent useless. It passes through their mind link, and Robin turns his head just enough to narrow his eyes at her.

Well then next time don’t make me fucking fight them all by myself, he thinks at them. They at least have the decency to look embarrassed when he points it out.

“Well that was fun!” Robin announces. “The Commish will be by soon to pick up you and your boys. Thanks for playing with me, Uncle Ozzy!”

“Yeah, yeah. See you next time squirt.”

“Can I keep your umbrella?”

“No!”

Robin just shrugs and rolls it under Penguin’s chair. He can hear the police sirens already.

“Well that’s our cue to skedaddle.”

Robin is halfway back to the bioship before the others can shake off the shock of whatever the bell they just witnessed and follow after him.

“How are you so friendly with them?” Wally asks once they’re flying back to the mountain.

Robin shrugs very exaggeratedly.

“Maybe that’s my super power. Did’ja ever think of that?”

“I hate you.”

I can’t rly think of any other specific idea but I do love this premise so so much I think it’s hilarious.

#robin #dick grayson #young Justice #oswald cobblepot #bane #fic ideas

571 notes · View notes

confessioncassette · 4 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐍𝐚𝐦-𝐆𝐲𝐮 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝟏𝟖+. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

summary : getting high leads to dirty, dirty things

tw : getting high, smoking, dry humping, minimal fingering, this may be dubious consent [DUBCON] due to being under the influence and the boys have been waiting for a chance with you, very small yandere themes if you SQUINT

words : 1.7k

notes : I’ve been unhinged lately. Feral. Horny. I want to be stuck between two men. I was too lazy to write a full fic or many details of this concept… AND it’s not proofread. It’s honestly not my best work… sorry…. but I still hope you enjoy!

Thinking about…

“Well, no,” You squirm over your heels, “I’ve never actually been high.”

The duo looks back at you utterly perplexed. Before Namgyu opens his mouth to question, you continue.

”I just don’t think I did it right the first time. It was out of a soda can,” Your gesture with your hands but your excuse didn’t change their glare, if anything, their eyebrows furrowed into confusion.

“And I don’t think I inhaled all the way.” You paused for a moment, eyes darting back at the two who were giving you judgmental looks, “I only took one hit.”

The air is plagued with an uncomfortably long moment of silence before Namgyu stifles a laugh and hugs his arms across his chest.

“So, what? Last time you smoked was in high school? No one has used soda cans-“

”Shut up Namgyu,” Thanos slaps his friend over his chest with a muffle thump.

“You want to try it tonight?” The purple haired man continues, his blue colored contacts scan your face in anticipation.

And that's when you find yourself sitting rigid on the end of the couch, curiously watching Thanos roll a blunt over his glass coffee table. Oldschool R&B plays low over the speaker and the glow of purple LED lights create a soft contrast to the night sky through the large windows.

His pink tongue carefully licks the paper, eyes finding yours as he does, offering a wink before slender fingers slide over the edges. Namgyu lounges over the fur rug below you, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

“I always have to roll because he can’t. You should see how fucked his shit comes out.”

“Shut the fuck up, T,” Namgyu retaliates, “I like when you do it because it’s not as tight.”

The other man ignores his friend and directs his attention solely to you.

“Okay, pretty girl,” Thanos flicks the lighter, bringing the blunt to his lips. Namgyu looks up from his phone, brows raised as he watches his friend.

”Watch me.” Thanos says, voice low with bass, before inhaling the joint, the tip growing brighter as he does. Once done, he passes the joint to Namgyu and sucks the smoke in deeper.

You squirm, rubbing your sweaty fingers together over your lap. You watch Namgyu sit up to take a hit, blowing a cloud of smoke to the side. His eyes meet yours, extending his hand to offer you a hit.

You hesitate, and they notice.

”You don’t have to-“ Namgyu begins but you cut him off.

“No, no, I want to try.”

You take the joint to your lips and suck in slowly, attempting to copy what Thanos had done. The musky taste fills your senses, warm and itchy, tickling the back of your throat almost immediately. You tried, like really tried, to keep it in but your body reacts without a second thought and you cough uncontrollably. Squeezing your eyes shut, you lean forward, hacking up a lung. Puffs of smoke leave your mouth with each cough and tears swell almost immediately.

Namgyu reacts almost instantly, sliding onto the couch next to you to pat your back.

”Yeah, it burns like shit when you’re not used to it.”

Moments pass and you catch your breath. Your eyelashes sticky from tears, most likely messing up your mascara in the process you look over to Thanos, who carries a slack smile. You didn’t even notice the quick look he shared with his friend.

“Don’t worry, baby girl, first time is always rough.”

“Do you want to try again? I doubt you inhaled anything with that.” Namgyu offers.

You suck in a breath, cringing at the man beside you, but he gently takes the joint from your fingers, his touch lingering a moment.

”Trust me, it won’t hurt as bad this time.” He gives you a sheepish smile.

”There’s nothing to worry about, baby. You’re safe, we got you if anything happens.” The purple haired man reassures you.

You nod, adjusting your frame to face Namgyu completely. You wanted to try this after all. It’ll probably be your only chance to try it anyway. You gotta live, you know?

Namgyu brings the paper to his lips, sucking in deeply while his eyes never leave yours. His intense stare ignites a flame deep within your belly, and before you know it, his palm slides over your knee. The warmth of his flesh simmers over your skin, his pinky toying with the hem of your dress before leaning close. His other hand comes up to gently caress your jaw, tilting your face up to him.

His scent has you surrounded and you’re incapable of moving. His intense stare drawing close and the wafts of swirling smoke and cologne filling your nostrils paralyzes you. For what felt like forever and a second all at once, his nose grazes your cheek, bringing you back into reality.

“Open, baby,” Thanos murmurs from across the table.

Opening your mouth for him, Namgyus soft lips graze yours and begins pushing the smoke inside. This time, the smoke felt smooth, hydrated and warm.

”Breathe in.” Thanos guides again.

You inhale slowly with every push he gave until there was nothing left. Once done, he lingered close to watch your every move. You felt his breath tickle your cheek, hot and intoxicating. Looking up at him through thick lashes, his gaze was already upon you, eyes swimming dark with desire. Losing yourself in the moment, heartbeat thumping between your ears, you almost didn’t notice that the couch dipped behind you.

“My turn.”

Thanos’s arm slithers around your shoulder to grab the blunt from the other man, once again snapping back to reality and releasing your hypnosis from Namgyu. His chest presses firmly against your back, his different scent wafts up to your nose, filling your scenes with clean shampoo, cigarettes and an airier cologne. The paper crackles when he takes a hit, incredibly close behind to your face before you feel his fingers sliding up the front of your neck. With his palm flat over your trachea and fingers splayed along your jaw, he adds pressure in turning your head into his lips.

Thanos’s lips were hungrier than the other, confidently latching onto you, pushing the smoke inside your mouth with his tongue. You take him fully, inhaling every last bit of smoke he gives. His lips were sweeter than Namgyus. Traces of candy burst your tastebuds.

The palm that caresses your neck slides up to your jaw, the pads of his fingers pet against your flesh, sending wavelengths of chills down your spine.

Once he was finished, he pulled away only a mere centimeter to allow you to exhale.

The duo continued this for another round, guiding your face back and forth between the two of them. Each time their lips lingered longer and longer, hungry to devour you whole. Like they were waiting for you to make the first move, or waiting to see who of the two would begin the downfall. It was only a matter of time that you felt the side effects creeping through your veins, viciously spreading throughout your body. It was gradual at first, until it hit you head on like a door being opened in a hurricane. Your skin prickled and crawled, while your mind grew hazy and light. Their faces became one, meshed together in a vision.

You began to giggle.

“There’s our girl,” Namgyu’s knuckles graze over your chin, his other hand creeping up your thigh, palming at your muscle.

”Feels good, yeah?” Thanos lets you lean back into his chest, his arms slung over your waist. The joint lays forgotten in the ashtray, but the musky scent lingers heavily.

You giggle and nod in response.

“I’ve never felt like this before! I feel… feel…” you nuzzle yourself against Thanos, “so relaxed.”

”Hey,” the mans chest behinds you vibrates, lulling you deeper into your high. You want him to do it again-

“Keep talking it feels good,” you mumble.

”Baby, you know what would feel even better?”

You hum, drifting, drifting… Namgyus kneading over your thigh feels too good.

“Sit up for me.” Thanos says lowly, but you remain, completely entranced by Namgyu’s ministrations.

Thanos shot his friend a look, stopping him from teasing you. You protest when his warm palm leaves your skin, only to be replaced by thick arms hooking under your pits to lift you up.

”Here we go, sweet girl, up,” Namgyu says softly before placing a chaste kiss under your ear and turning you around over Thanos.

You adjust to your newfound position, straddling the purple haired man. You open your eyes to find his face close to yours underneath you.

“Su-bong, I feel great.” You smile sweetly, tilting your head to observe him in the purple ambience. He looks so beautiful.

Blue eyes swimming with an emotion you can’t decipher scan over your face before he pulled up into a deep kiss. Large hands tug your hair and pull you impossibly deeper, and for a moment you feel like you might suffocate. It was voracious and wet, his tongue slipped past your lips instantly to taste you fully. He rumbled, a groan that came deep from his chest awakened all your senses.

Your core rested fully now over something hard and warm.

Thanos breathed into your kiss, devouring your lips like he was a man starved. His hips bucked up into you, igniting the fire between your legs. Your body erupts in a hazy desire grinding back into him, letting a sweet moan fall past your lips.

Rocking back into his thrusts, Thano’s breath becomes ragged and the hands that pull you close search your body, running over every curve like he was carefully studying you. Your mind’s completely drifting into this ecstasy so much so that you completely ignore the feeling of Namgyu flipping up your dress to expose your ass.

The other man sits up and kneels before the two of you to palm his cock over his sweatpants.

“Wish you could see the way her ass bounces from back here, oh my god.” Namgyu groans.

This earns a growl from Thanos before his exploring hands move south to grip your ass, spreading you open. Namgyu could almost cry at seeing the wet spot on your panties now spread in full view for him.

Your cunt drags along Thano’s thick shaft as he dry humps up into you. Your body rocks roughly over his between wet kisses. Your mind spins, your body completely limp in his grasp, his blunt fingernails dig into your flesh like he’s afraid to lose you.

Namgyu leans forward a slender finger to trace along your wet core over your panties, the other hand palming himself a little more roughly.

“She’s so fucking wet, T, look.” Pulling your panties to the side, you jump at the sudden intrusion of his finger.

“It’s okay, pretty girl, just want him to taste you.” Slowly, Namgyu scoops up your slick to rub between his fingers. You’re sweet and sticky like honey, and he admires the sight. He allows himself to play with the juices between his fingers, watching sticky strings expand and droop before his friend growls - a warning to hurry up. At that, he leans forward to present the sight to his friend.

When Thanos breaks the kiss, you groan, hanging your head in the crook of his neck. You inhale his sweet cologne mixed with sweat, drifting once again in pure bliss. Your core aches for release now, so you mindlessness hump and hump when Thanos turns his head to taste his friend’s fingers, moaning before he does just at the sight of your slick.

“Holy shit, you’re so sweet.” He groans.

”Let’s bring her to the bedroom, yeah? The couch is too small for this.”

#thanos x reader #namgyu x reader #thanos squid game #thanos smut #squid game smut #namgyu smut #squid game nam gyu #namgyu x reader x thanos #squid game imagine #namgyu x reader smut #thanos x reader smut #player 230 #player 230 smut #player 124 #player 124 smut

692 notes · View notes

1818havefaith · 6 months ago

Text

90s/2000s SOFT GLAM

PRODUCTS

Primer

Baby Powder

Tinted Moisturiser or a Foundation

Concealer

Pressed powder

Setting Powder

Brow gel

Blush

Black Eyeliner/Black Eyeshadow

Lash Glue/ Bonding Glue

Light False Eyelashes/ Mascara

Dark Brown/ Dark Plum/ Black Lip Pencil

Pink Lipstick or Pink Lip Gloss

Clear Lip Gloss

Setting Spray

TOOLS

Beauty blender

Concealer brush

Small eye brush

BASE

Apply primer all over your face (including your eyelids) and work it into your skin

#faithtip Apply baby powder all over your face with a powder brush for a long-lasting oil-proof base

Apply concealer to your under eyes following your eyeshape

Blend well with a small brush

Apply tinted moisturiser or foundation to skin

Blend well with a damp beauty blender

#faithtip: dampen your beauty blender with setting spray for easier blending and a longer lasting matte base

Take a powder brush and some pressed powder and apply all over your face

Now, using a powder puff or a beauty blender, apply loose powder to your under eyes following your eye shape.

BROWS

Brush through your eyebrows with brow gel

Fill in if preferred

EYES

Use black eyeliner to follow/ enhance the shape of your eye

There are tutorials on this blog that feature how to draw different eyeliner wings for your specific eye shape

You can use a brush to make your wing look softer inside but keep the outer part of your wing sharp.

LASHES

If you wear light lash extensions these next steps can be skipped

Curl your lashes then apply mascara

If you prefer, after this step apply light cluster lashes to your eye

If you choose a light pair of strip lashes, apply the mascara after putting on the lashes

STRIP LASHES

But for this step apply glue to strip lashes

Wave the lashes around for a bit so the glue dries a tiny bit and feels a little bit sticky

Place them on the lash line and adjust where needed (using tweezers or fingers)

youtube

CLUSTER LASHES

Strip lashes can also be cut into smaller pieces or use cluster lashes

Dip them into glue and wipe off the excess

Use tweezers to hold the lashes

Pull the top of your eyelid upwards so you can see underneath your eyelashes

#faithtip Wipe the glue on the part you are applying to then you can dip the lash in glue again before actually placing it underneath your lash

This make the lashes more firm and secure

Make sure it is not too close to your eye as this can be irritating

Fan your eyes if you can still feel wet glue

youtube

BACK TO THE BASE

Using a powder brush, brush away/blend out the loose powder, under your eyes

Blend VERY well, as the powder has been sat on your face for a while, so it will not move easily

After blending, for a more highlighted look apply a lighter setting powder to the inner corners of your and allow it to sit for some time, whilst you apply blush to your cheeks/cheekbones

LIPS

A common hack from this time was holding a lighter slightly close to your lip liner to melt it a little bit, making it easier to apply and slightly darker

Line your top and bottom lip

Appy a pink lip gloss or lipstick in the middle

Go over your lip liner if you must

Blend your lip liner slightly

Apply a clear lip gloss or keep it matte in true 90s essence

FINISHING TOUCHES...

Swipe away the remaining setting powder

Spray setting spray all over your face

...and DONE! xx

575 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 4 months ago

Text

Heartbreak in Overdrive Part 1

Yeah, I know this is supposed to be Spellbound, but like this has five chapters in backlog, and it really needs to be let out before it breaks containment.

The title comes I'll Wait by Van Halen, as I wanted something to do with fashion and @bookworm0690 really came in clutch with these lyrics.

Summary: Eddie is a top model know for his temper tantrums. Steve is war photographer coming out of a traumatic experience by doing fashion photography. When hotheaded Eddie runs up against Steve's cool under pressure attitude, sparks fly.

Also I tend to make up fictional brands so I don't have to keep running for google every time I need a brand name for something.

Eddie Munson fought hard to be where he was. He had climbed up from the literal fucking gutter to being a top model. Fuck that bitch for ruining that title in the minds of the masses, making it meaningless, but he earned it.

He had full creative control over every little aspect of his shoots and everyone knew it. They knew what they were getting when they hired him. Every part of him was what they fucking paid for. His whole glam metal look was a package deal. His long hair, his tattoos, his style. That’s what they got when they hired him.

His current gig was St. John Whiskey, they were trying to appeal to the younger party crowd with their new canned cocktails. Eddie had tried them and they weren’t half bad. If someone served them at rave he went to, he would happy down several of the damn things. But he wouldn’t ask for them. Like ever.

Eddie briefly wondered who was going to shoot the ad, because they hadn’t told him before he signed on the dotted line. Not that it mattered, whoever they got would try to fob it off to someone else. That little detail made the little demon in Eddie curl up and purr. That companies would trip over themselves to get Eddie to model for them, while the actual photographers were fighting over who had to photograph him.

He arrived on set which was made up to look like a club, there were about a dozen extras all tarted up in club gear. To the right was his hair and makeup artist, Vickie Cameron, to his left was his manager next to a row of clothes that Eddie would choose from for the shoot.

Tucked behind a little partition were three photographers; Jonathan Byers, Argyle Ramirez, and Tommy Hagan. They were all playing roshambo. They were playing several games before Tommy groaned.

“Fuck!” he cursed and then walked over to get his kit. His assistant Carol immediately started setting up the lights and shit from his stuff while Argyle and Jonathan celebrated their win.

“Hello, boys,” Eddie said sweetly, causing everyone nearby to jump in the air.

Jonathan had the decency to look embarrassed, Argyle just grinned at him. Tommy on the other hand, his expression soured.

“Munson,” he said tersely. “Keep the tantrums to a minimum and maybe both of us will fucking survive this day.”

Eddie’s face transformed into a feral grin. “Do you job properly and there won’t be a tantrum to be had. Be the hack you usually are and I make no promises.”

Tommy surged forward, likely to start swinging, but Jonathan held him back. Eddie batted his eyelashes at him innocently, then he turned on his heel and made straight to Chrissy and wardrobe. Hopefully they had something good in there he could wear.

Eddie walked over to Chrissy as she was separating some shirts for him.

“They want a dance club vibe,” she said as she handed him four shirts, two jackets, and three pairs of pants. “Everything here has your style but with that club flare they’re looking for.”

He smirked. “Someone, somewhere is learning.”

She swatted at his ass. “Go get dressed, dick. Then hurry back so we can get your accessories picked out so we can get Vickie started on your hair and makeup.”

Eddie nodded and took his prizes to the dressing room. The first jacket was a blueish-black racer jacket and the other was a suit jacket with black sequins embroidered in a brocade pattern. The shirts were all button ups. Of the two black options, one was a soft cotton and the other was satin. The white shirt was of the same material of the first black shirt and the remaining shirt was a silky grey. The pants ranged from tight leather to ripped denim with a tuxedo pant thrown in for funsies.

He tried on several combinations before he settled on the leather jacket, the silver shirt, and tight leather pants. He padded back out to Chrissy who had an array of watches, necklaces, bracelets, chains, and shoes.

He immediately pulled out the shiny combat boots and started layering the jewelry just the way he liked it. Once he was satisfied, he sat down at Vickie’s chair and flipped his hair. “Miss DeMille, I’m ready for my close up!”

Vickie laughed. “Let’s get this pretty face even prettier for the camera.” She got to work on his hair first, washing and conditioning it to take the hair products it would take to tame Eddie’s famous curls.

By the time he was finally ready, so was Tommy and Carol.

She eyed him and then nodded approvingly. He matched the vibe they were going for, but stood out in a fashionable way.

“Ready when you are, princess,” Tommy sneered, pulling out a camera from one of his bags.

Eddie grinned at him and then got into position. Tommy called out poses and shots while Carol managed the lenses, cameras and filters. Things were going well until they weren’t.

“Can someone please tell me why this asshole extra keeps standing in my fucking light?!” he growled.

Tommy stood up from where he had been crouched on the floor. “There is no one in your light, I’m literally taking the pictures and there is not single shade over you.”

“Not that light, dumbass,” Eddie snarled, “the light from the disco ball. It’s supposed to be glittering on my face to bring in the club vibe but some asshole is literal blocking it.”

Tommy went through the memory card and went back as far twenty frames. “Shit, he’s right.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m right, so are you going to get this asshole to stop mugging the shots or am I going to have to lock myself in my dressing room until you do?”

“I don’t even know who it is,” Tommy snapped back. “How am I supposed to find a needle in a fucking haystack?”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “The disco ball is there!” He pointed behind where he was sitting at a table and to the left. “So it’s obviously NOT the people to my right or in the foreground! Use your fucking head!”

He stood up and stalked toward dressing room, leaving a path of destruction in his wake of knocked over chairs and people glaring at him as he pushed by them.

It took Tommy and Carol about an hour to find out who had been blocking the disco ball’s light and coach Eddie out his dressing room.

All the news articles blew up that Eddie Munson threw a fit on the set of his most recent photo shoot again. Talking about what a diva he was and how unhinged he was.

Chrissy sat him down to talk about the articles. “You probably shouldn’t have thrown the chairs, let’s be fair. But all the pictures that were taken after you came back were the best shots Tommy took.”

Eddie sneered. “They were in the way and I didn’t throw them, I tried pushing them out the way and they got tangled up and they fell. I just needed to be somewhere else in that moment or more than just chairs would have been flying.”

Chrissy sighed. She knew. She knew better than anyone how much space Eddie needed when he got into his head.

“Well,” she said, “we’ll ride it out like we always do. If Tom Cruise can come out of coach jumping with a career intact, you will come of this one just fine, too.”

Eddie threw his head head back and buried his hands into his hair. He counted backward from twenty until he got his thoughts under control.

“I wish Carol was the photographer,” he said mournfully. “She actually seems to understand the artistry behind taking the perfect shot.”

“And we both know she’s never going to a chance,” Chrissy said ruefully, rolling her eyes. “Because she’s a woman. But it wasn’t her who found the extra who was getting in the way of the shots.”

That made Eddie sit up. “Yeah, then who did?”

Chrissy shrugged. “Some friend of Tommy’s who was visiting. He’s some hot shot war photographer that Tommy met in art school and was in town for a couple of days for some award show.”

“Maybe hire him next time,” Eddie said with a snort.

When Eddie heard that it was going to be Argyle Ramirez doing the shoot for the Eva Laurent cologne that he was mildly annoyed. He wasn’t the incompetent asshole that Tommy was, but he was far too laid back for his tastes.

Eddie got to the set which was in Argyle’s studio. Everything was white and would be lighted to the appropriate colors. In the middle was a single black leather chair; one of those overstuffed kind.

There were about a half dozen people milling around and that brought him up short.

“Um...” he said glancing over at Chrissy briefly. “I thought it was going to be a closed set?”

Argyle looked up at him with that hazy, dopey smile of his. “The man of the hour has arrived. Awesome!” He looked around at the other people in the room. “Don’t worry my man, once you’re ready to drop robe, most of these people will have cleared out.”

“Most?” Eddie asked, trying not squirm.

“Sure,” Argyle said, blinking at him in confusion. “I’ve got to have my assistants to move things around and shit. But everyone else will have cleared out.”

Eddie bit on his lip. He couldn’t argue with that. Though he had tried. Several times before. Whenever he pushed back on being naked in front of strangers he was told that he was baring his ass to the world, what was a few extra people on the day of the shoot.

He went to go get his hair and makeup done, with Vickie trying to ease her nerves but talking about her long distance girlfriend who also did hair, but always needed help with her smokey eye makeup.

Eddie let her chatter wash over him and he relaxed, getting out of his head and into his body. His body was his job, his sanctuary, and his weapon all rolled into one. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, releasing the last bit of tension in his shoulders.

When he came out of hair and makeup he was pleased to find there were only two other people there besides Argyle. One knelt by a bag, while the other stood by the lights.

That was more than he would have liked, but he had to let it slide. He knew that there were some photographers who had full on teams and all they did was take the pictures. But Eddie had it in his rider that if they wanted him to model for them they couldn’t use those photographers.

He was about down to his underwear when Argyle came bursting into the room. He shrieked and pulled his pants over his crotch.

“Don’t you knock?!” Eddie roared in outrage, clutching his pants close to his body as a shield.

Argyle held his hands up and backed out. “Sorry, dude, I thought hadn’t gotten undressed yet.” He closed the door.

Eddie could tell the man was waiting awkwardly outside so he hurried to get undressed and throw on the black satin robe he was given. He tied the sash tightly around his waist and slid the slippers on his feet. He slowly opened the door and peeked out to make sure it was just Argyle waiting for him.

He stepped out into the hallway and Argyle looked up from his phone.

“You ready now?” he asked.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but if you had been like a minute later or two minutes sooner, I wouldn’t have been in the middle of getting undressed.”

“I’m going to be seeing you naked in five minutes anyway,” Argyle groused. “I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Eddie bit his tongue. He wanted to say the difference was consent, but it seemed like nothing would penetrate the thick fog of weed smoke around the photographer’s head. He just strolled past, his head held high.

Once he had warmed up enough he dropped the robe and the assistant in charge of the lenses rushed forward to grab it.

He sprawled on the leather chair, the material sticking to his ass.

After a few minutes of struggling to get comfortable he finally snapped.

“Is there anyway we can put something down on the chair so my skin isn’t being peeled off with every move I make?”

One of the assistants, Eddie couldn’t be assed to care which one, rushed forward with a long golden drape and laid it over the leather chair. Then when Eddie sat back on it she draped it over his body artistically, making the shot more provocative and less in your face nudity.

“Good thinking, Karla,” Argyle huffed as he knelt to take the next shot. “Pull his hair out a little bit so that it lays flat over the drape.”

Karla hurried to do as she was told. The shoot went more smoothly after that, but he could tell Argyle was annoyed for not having thought of the drape first.

Eddie didn’t spend the whole shoot covered by the drape, but it added something special to the ad that the Eva Laurent people loved.

But Argyle told everyone that Eddie had been reluctant to disrobe in front of people and that’s why the drape was added.

It pissed Eddie off, but with people wanting to believe the worst of him, trying to refute it was like pissing in the wind.

But he made sure to tell the Eva Laurent people that it was Karla’s idea for the drape on his way out, just to fuck with him back.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Tag List: NINE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chaotic-waffle

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailitha writes #fashion model au #steve is a photographer #eddie is a model

231 notes · View notes

bits-and-babs · 2 years ago

Text

✦ 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 ✦

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader (delta) | smut, 18+ | 4.1k

summary: you, soap and gaz make a silly bet at ghost's expense for an invaluable prize.

cw: mw3 spoiler free. 141 ridiculousness, humour, attempts to remove the mask resulting in life threatening (not really) injury, mild exhibitionism if you squint, very talkative ghost, 'interrogation' wink wink, unprotected p in v sex, reference to f receiving oral.

ghost mlist | main mlist | taglist

"Y'know, I'm sure as shit that L.t's got brown hair," Soap pipes up in the middle of the silence that had settled inside the safe house.

The members of Task Force 141 glance up one by one, querying eyes cast Soap's way as the guesstimated observation hangs in the air. It's louder than chopper blades, thudding against your skull and roaring in your ears as you attempt to recall the information you have on Ghost, what little physical attributes you can attribute to him. Each time, you hit a brick wall. The only image conjured in your minds-eye is the black voids of the mask's eyes and the piercing amber of his irises.

The wind howls outside, battering the windows with Wyoming snow and creeping in through the cracks in the panes. It makes a yowling sound as it slips through the crevices, carrying your memories of Ghost's appearance with it. He truly was like an apparition, there one moment, then gone altogether.

Gaz's brows crease in the middle, little crevices in the skin showing his mind working over the sentence.

"He doesn't," he eventually retorts, eyebrow cocked while shaking his head, "He's blonde."

"What makes you say that?" Price scoffs at his colleague's certainty, "You ever seen his face?"

The silence that follows makes the Captain chuckle. A wordless 'that's what I thought'.

"You willin' to bet on that?" Soap pushes Gaz with a lopsided smirk. There it is, that ridiculous playfulness that the Scotsman continuously let slip over coms. Simon had once reprimanded him for how it would get him killed– you were almost certain if he continued down this path in particular, he'd be in a box by daylight.

"I am," Gaz counters thoughtlessly, a smug lilt to his tone as he leans the crown of his head back against the rotting wooden wall, "He's got blonde eyelashes. He's gonna have blonde hair."

"What're ya gettin' so close tae him for?" Soap grins wide, loading the new ammunition and hitting a bullseye on the first shot, "You been snoggin' him or somethin'?"

"Lads," Price warns. It's only one word, but it says a lot; 'he'll have your head.' All of you know Simon 'Ghost' Riley well enough to know it's not a joke. Seen enough of the mangled bodies he left behind to know it wouldn't be clean, either. More like he'd hack your skull from your neck, picking out the dullest blade that'd struggle to slot between vertebrae.

"Bets on, then," Soap continues, white teeth gleaming in the low light, "First to confirm gets the honour of shootin' Hassan between the eyes."

It's like throwing a match at a body doused in diesel.

✰

The parameters of this wager are as follows... First: the competition is between you, Soap and Gaz. Price was ruled automatically exempt the moment he admitted he had, indeed, seen Ghost's face. It was a revelation that caused quite a storm- and a promise from Gaz of £100 if he'd tell.

The Captain, quite frankly, told him where to stick it.

Second: None of you could just ask Ghost himself. That was boring; no fun in that.

Thirdly, there are no other rules. Acquire the information by any means necessary to claim victory. Perhaps this rule should have been revised- because to say that 141's tactics for getting Ghost to reveal his face were a little unorthodox is an understatement of the highest order.

Despite his hulking frame, Ghost is like a cunning fox, cognizant of even the slightest changes in energy and hypervigilant of those approaching. The midnight void of his grease paint that frames his eyesockets contrasts the whites of his eyes as they dart back and forth between you all. He appears to have noted the devious scheming, practically hearing the cogs turning in your heads the moment he returned from his watch. Something is amiss, and you know Ghost knows it.

He says nothing.

Day One; the grumpy, black-clad special ops soldier sits back in his seat as he crosses his arms over his vast chest, cautiously observing the minute movements the three of you made. He'd bristled when Gaz stood from the sofa simply to enter another room, poised and ready to pounce at whatever fuckery the younger soldier would attempt.

"Hey, L.t.," Soap's drawl cuts through the humorously tense atmosphere in the room, and you brace yourself for his master plan. "When was the last time ye got a haircut?"

Ghost hesitates. Waits a beat. The silence stretches almost uncomfortably until he answers, thick, bassy voice almost booming in the box room. "What're you playin' at, Johnny?"

Soap shrugs his shoulders, exuding complete nonchalance as he settles into the seat across the table from the hulking mass of man. "Just wondered if the mask ever came off. How do you cut your hair?"

Amusement ripples through you in the sound of a chuckle, both men glancing your way. Ghost peers at you, suspicion pooling thick in his pupils.

"Shave it," Ghost rumbles bluntly, with an air of finality that leaves no room for argument or for Soap to encourage him to try something stupid like curtain bangs or, God forbid, a mohawk.

You can't help but grin from ear to ear as you watch the Scotsman's shoulders slump in defeat, already waving a white flag upon seeing how unwilling Ghost is to play whatever stupid game you're all partaking in. Even you can't deny the anxiety that prickles across your nerve endings when you see the way Ghost's biceps flex beneath the camo fabric of his uniform, primed for action.

When Ghost's aqua irises slide to you, your shoulders shrug comically, putting on the performance of your life to appear as though you had no idea what Johnny was up to. You see the way Ghost's blacked-out eyelids squint in suspicion. He doesn't believe you, but doesn't say as much.

Day Three and the polite, roundabout tactics had been discarded in favour of the nuclear option. Gaz had tried ambushing Ghost in the shower, opening the door without knocking as if pretending he didn't know the Lieutenant was in there. The door slammed so quickly into his head that an egg had been steadily growing on his forehead for the past hour and a half, blood seeping from his almost certainly broken nose.

"You'll stay out next time, Bravo 2-6, if you know what's good for you," Ghost had growled through the crack in the door before shutting it with a click of the lock.

Holding his face and slinking away, mortally wounded, Gaz uttered a humiliated 'Yes, lieutenant'.

Soap, clearly not having learnt from poor Gaz, decided that the next best option was a trip, so to speak. Executing a ludicrously overexaggerated stumble, Johnny reached out to grab Ghost's mask to 'steady himself' and ultimately drag it from his superior's head.

Ghost had leapt from his seat with a roar, threatening to send Sergeant MacTavish back to Scotland in a box with the Saltire draped across the lid. The standoff only settled upon Captain Price's barked orders to stand down or hang up the uniform.

By Day Six, Ghost had bruised your opponent's egos enough that neither Soap nor Gaz dared attempt to peek beneath the mask again. They look at you like you're absolutely bonkers when you finally announce it's your turn to try and tame the beast.

"Yer fuckin' mad, hen," Johnny grumbled, watching you observe Ghost from across the room. He'd settled on a chair in the corner of the room, ensuring no one could sneak up on him. "You can't seriously be plannin' on-"

"I want Hassan," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Though, at this rate, you couldn't care less about the terrorist and the honour of dispatching him. No, Ghost had made this ridiculous game far more competitive than needed, and you planned to win.

"Have fun," Gaz scoffed bitterly, still icing the blotchy green and purple bruise that had welted on his forehead as a medal of dis-honour. You hadn't exactly helped the healing process, poking it harshly with the pad of your thumb as you laughed at his mortifying misfortune.

You wait patiently for Ghost to move, like a stake out on a mission. Lying in plain sight in a ghillie suit, a sniper rifle pointed right between his eyes and your finger on a hairpin trigger. You wait for him to break, for exhaustion to creep in. Thankfully, you don't have to wait long. The Lieutenant rises from his chair, announcing to 141 that he's headed to bed.

A quiet mumble of 'goodnight' from each member grants him leave, and Ghost walks out of the room without further word. You waste no time in hurrying to your feet.

"Are you gonna...-" Soap winces when you stand, trailing off when you start after Ghost, not allowing either of your colleagues to talk you out of this suicide mission.

Though, the moment you turn the corner, you wish you had. Ghost's broad frame practically fills the narrow hallway like someone had plucked Everest from Nepal and shoved its hulking mass into a matchbox. He's ginormous, his usually silent footsteps causing the aged, rotting wood beneath the soles of his boots to creak with the weight he applies when he turns to face you.

The dark hallway obscures Ghost's skull-face mask, but a glittering reflection of the golden light bleeding from the bulb in the living room area flickers across the wet surface of his eyes as he observes you. You can't allow the weighty pressure of his stare to phase you if you're to push ahead with your plan- so you step forward, swallowing down the nerves that Ghost's attention inevitably dredges up.

"Lieutenant, sir," you address him smoothly, voice low as you gaze up at him through your lashes. Ghost's eyebrow arches in response, noting your somewhat suggestive behaviour. "Permission to spea-"

"I'm hopin' you'll tell me what you're all up to," his eyes spear your nerve as he interrupts you, "They're not lettin' up, but I'll get it outta you one way or another."

"What... Did you have in mind?" You chance, heart slamming up against your chest when you realise just how obvious you're being. It's dangerous- you hadn't planned to be so forward. The idea that he'd be able to read your flirting so soon set off mortars in your veins.

There's a pause. It dizzies you, throwing your previously sturdy confidence off kilter when Ghost tilts his masked head slightly. He's turning it over in his mind, considering the past few days' events. Then, he turns everything on its side.

"I know what you're doing," he speaks suddenly, the rich baritone of his voice ricocheting off the walls and ringing in your ears like he's just discharged a round of ammo with each syllable. You jerk upright, standing to attention.

"I don't know what you m-"

"You want the mask off," he interrupts you again, cutting your pathetic excuse short as he steps forward. It's ridiculous, the sheer size of him as he looms over you. "You lot made a bet."

Another beat. Ghost waits for a response, an admission of guilt. It feels like he's cornered you; every answer that springs to mind is incriminating. You know he can see your rueful expression, wide-eyed and panicked by the ease with which he puts you on the ropes.

"Was this your plan?" He murmurs, reaching to grasp your chin. His palm settles on the hollow of your jaw, fingers fanning out across the bone. "Get me into bed and see if I'll take it off?"

Trembling in his hold, you whimper as Ghost's thumb stretches across to trace the curve of your lip. It follows the delicate arc, lining the shape of your mouth and trailing the dip of your cupid's bow.

"'M sorry," you mumble weakly, cheeks hot beneath his touch. Again, you fold beneath the intensity of those honeyed irises. It's a miracle your knees don't buckle when he pushes the pad of his thumb just past your lips, so that it brushes the edges of your teeth.

"That was your plan. Y'can still give it a try, love. But..." he hums, his voice throaty and quiet and settling in the pit of your stomach. It's embarrassing, the ease with which he figures you out, but his words drip over you, easy and warm, and all you can focus on is the slip of his thumb as he presses the pad against the flat of your tongue.

"The mask stays on."

Ghost’s insistence makes you giggle sheepishly and your stomach flip in dread, like a child caught with its hand down a bear trap. Despite the lewdness of him pushing his thumb past your lips, you know that he’s being serious, deathly so. You nod clumsily in recognition of his executive order, and Ghost gently taps the skin of your cheek with his free hand, the soft slap of his palm against your flesh standing your hair on end.

“Go.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighing heavily in the claustrophobic space of the small hallway. It takes a moment for your mind, rendered utterly useless by Ghost’s imposing presence, to understand exactly what he’s implying. Only when he removes his thumb from your mouth to shove you forward towards a bedroom door does his intention become clear.

Oh. Oh!

Scrambling to force your feet forward, they practically float across the threshold of the bedroom door. You can feel Ghost looming just behind you, can practically feel the heat radiating from his chest warming the expanse of your back. Fingers clasp over your shoulder, practically swallow the curved flesh, and shove you back against the bedroom wall.

The force of impact winds you, the air expelled from your lungs swallowed down by Ghost’s lips bearing heavily down upon your own. He’d ripped the mask upwards, the hem of the ski-mask balanced across the bridge of his nose. Simon’s tongue licks into your mouth– intrudes upon the space like he’s kicking down a door, like he’s swallowing the breath he’d expelled from you with his heavy hand.

Once the dazed dizziness dissipates, you moan in relief at finally getting what you wanted. Ghost’s gigantic paw takes hold of your jaw in a firm grip to fit his mouth perfectly against your own, his swirling fingerprints indenting in the soft flesh there in a mottled bruise. The soft pine he coaxes from you bleeds past your open mouth despite your attempt to suppress the frankly pathetic noise.

Fuck it, this was worth it– all of it was worth it. The fear of getting it wrong, the anxiety of being caught, the panic that Simon could turn you away… All of it seeps into the darkness in the corners of the room when your superior drags his tongue across your lower lip. It’s though he’s relishing in the taste of the aftershocks of the arousal he sparks between your legs, the dopamine that rushes through you.

“Was this your plan?” Ghost grunts, grasping ahold of the scruff of your neck. Gasping weakly, you’re almost certain your eyes roll back in your head when he uses his harsh grip to steer you towards the bed. “Get me out of my fuckin’ mind so I don’t notice you takin’ off the mask?”

“That’s–” you huff, rendered breathless by Ghost’s intruding tongue, “That’s not it–”

Your pitiful attempt to excuse yourself is made useless when Ghost practically launches you onto the mattress of his bed, the rusted metal frame screaming under the sudden weight of your body.

“No?” he queries, the usual boom of authority in his voice replaced by something that sounds far more like goading amusement as he places the hefty weight of his palm against your sternum, holding you down and thwarting any attempt to escape.

He needn’t worry. The last thing you wanted was to leave.

“Tell you what,” he muses in that smug tone you always hear over the comms, his free hand quick to grasp at the leather of his belt. The buckle clinks in the quiet as he works his fingers over it, “We’ll run through this mission, yeh? See if you can complete your objective, Delta?”

Your retort, or lack thereof, dies in your throat when Ghost pushes his crotch into your own. If it weren’t for the yelp of bliss that the Lieutenant had to smother with his palm, you’d hear the way he’d practically purred when he dragged his cock against you.

“C’mon then. Try it,” he urged.

It’s pointless, his mock-support. You just desperately reach for the waistband of his khaki uniform trousers, cockdrunk from the tease of its shape against you. Even in the low light, you can see Ghost’s scarred lips, the way they stretch into a smirk at your desperation.

“Abandoning mission, Sergeant?” He asks you, unzipping his trousers. “Price’ll be disappointed to know this is all it takes for Delta to go AWOL.”

“Shut up,” you moan into the cold air of the cabin. You can see your breath. “Shut up and fuck me.”

When Simon removed himself from his trousers, making some glib comment about you being demanding, you marvel at the size of him. Girthy, swollen, the ruddy tip leaks precum down the arch of his cock and traces the pulsing veins. He’s rock hard and throbbing, framed by a thatch of pubic hair.

Fumbling with your own trousers, you awkwardly try to remove them given Simon’s weighty palm still pins you down by your sternum. He watches, a glint in his eye in the low light that would almost embarrass you if you weren’t so focused on the task at hand.

“What was the prize?”

“H-Huh?” you stall, mind fried by Ghost’s unexpected line of enquiry. He picks up where you left off, violently yanking your trousers down your thighs and pushing your panties aside to expose your glistening cunt to his prying eyes.

“What. Was. The. Prize?”

You hesitate for a moment, feeling Ghost’s fingers press against the inside of your thighs as he probes this unexplored territory of you. His touch skirts the areas you want him most, teasing and goading you for more information. “H-Hassa-ahh!”

You barely manage the first syllable of your answer before Simon rests the arch of his cock against your slick pussy lips. His body jerks slightly at the heat of your swollen cunt, the ease with which he can slide himself through your drenched sex.

“You got to kill Hassan?” he asked for confirmation, his voice unwavering. You wonder how he manages to stay so steady– you’re coming apart at the seams, trembling as the head of his cock bumps your clit clumsily.

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes rolling back as he continues his laboured, steady torture. His free hand settles on your hip, arching your pelvis up slightly to meet his own. You grind your hips upward against his cock, and Simon expels a soft scoff from lungs, those piercing eyes settled on your contorting expression.

“Mhmm,” he hums, rolling his hips again. This time it’s even slower, teasing. “A temptin’ reward–”

Simon is interrupted by the moan that splits your lips when he drags the length of his cock heavily against your clit. It sparks arousal deep in your abdomen, clings to the inside of your thighs wetly.

Perhaps the disturbance is one transgression too many tonight, because Simon grasps your hips so hard that you are forced to stop gliding over the length of his cock. You pine in protest, but you choke on the pitiful sound when Ghost suddenly plunges his cock inside of you. It spears you open, breaks you apart, and you find your back arching desperately against the mattress.

The palm that had rooted itself to your sternum flies up to clasp against your mouth, smothering the shriek of bliss that threatened to expose your extracurricular activities to the rest of your squad. You sob through your teeth beneath his life line, tears welling in your eyes as you feel him stretch your walls open to make room for his intrusion.

You can’t help yourself. You need something to grasp onto, and opt for his wrist above your face. Digging your nails into the inked flesh there, you watch as the pain sparks something dark and twisted in Simon’s pupils, his azure irises swallowed by the expanding blackness.

He likes it. You can tell. His cock arches up inside of you, pushing deep and rocking against something earth shattering inside of you. Damp with sweat already, the skin of his wrist ripples as he tightens his grip on your face, refusing to withdraw from your pussy walls and instead opting for sharp, shallow thrusts that push you up the mattress with each connection of your hips.

“Fuck,” he spits, using his tight grasp to pull you back towards him. It’s obliterating you, ripping you apart and pushing all your pieces back together in a mangled, jumbled mess. You whimper as you suffer through his brutal pace, marvelling at how good it feels when he consistently spears your g-spot.

“When would you have done it?” Simon asks you, a little breathless now as he chases the high that begins to build at the edges of your body, tingling and pulsing.

“Shut up–” you beg him, the low rasp of his voice launching you towards that pleasure that threatens to consume you. Jerking your hips up to meet his, your body mindlessly reacts to the sound of his timbre.

“Oh, no,” he chuckles, shaking his half masked face. There’s a silver laden scar that stretches across the base of his chin. It matches the one that splits his upper lip to the base of his nose, the ski mask hovering tantalisingly over the bridge. “When?”

The seriousness of his tone makes your thighs quiver when paired with the sharp thrust he punctuates his question with. Years of training in maintaining a cover-story while a hostage are blown to bits as though Ghost has launched a mortar at your resolve, because suddenly all your state secrets are spilling out of you quicker than you can shove the incriminating words back into your traitor mouth.

“I’d– Hagh… I’d do it j-just as you’re cummin–hhah!”

“And spoil my fun?” Ghost hums, that heavy timbre licking up your spine and sparking viscous embers at the base of your spine, “Anyone ever told you that you’re very fuckin’ selfish, Delta?”

You’d offer a witty comment, but Ghost’s angled his hips just right, and your jaw is falling loose to let out a panicked whimper.

“There it is, shit. Look at you, Sargeant. Fuckin’, you’re so tight–”

You’re like a slip knot, tightening around him further with each knock of your g-spot with Simon’s ridiculously large cock-head. Prickling tears of bliss threaten to spill over the edge of your waterline, continuing to sting even when you shut your eyes. You’re shaking, trembling beneath his rocking hips as you mewl his name.

“S-Simon! Fuck–”

Wild, wet squelches of Simon sinking into your soaked cunt echo in your skull as he ramps up his violent thrusts, the springs of his mattress screaming an unmistakable rhythm to anyone walking by. He doesn’t seem to care now though, his eyes zeroed in on your expression like he’s stalking a victim with his sniper scope. Aiming for complete obliteration.

“C’mon Can feel you squeezin’ round me,” he murmurs, the steady tone he’d offered earlier shuddering slightly as you squeeze impossibly tight around him, coil threatening to snap, “You’re so close, Delta. C’mon, paint my cock an’ I’ll eat you out with my cum in you–”

✰

“He’s blonde.”

Gawping jaws drop to the floor at your very simple observation, Soap’s eyes nearly rolling across the uneven, rotten floorboards after falling out of his skull. You can’t help the smug smile that threatens to tug at the edge of your lips, especially given the sensation of Ghost’s eyes boring holes into the back of your skull.

The awe only worsens when Price gives a subtle nod of confirmation from the corner of the darkened room, crowning you the winner of this utterly ridiculous joust.

“How do you know?” Gary is as shaken as Soap by the confidence with which you’d offered your final answer, in disbelief as to how you could have possibly obtained it without being maimed, given the egg on his forehead was still throbbing despite days of icing it with the snow from outside the safehouse.

“His pubes are. I assume the curtains match the drapes,” you shrug dismissively.

The sheer incredulity that flashes across Johnny’s face is utterly hilarious. The smirk that had been threatening to break finally cracks across your lips at the confirmation of your victory. Ghost’s eyes appear to have lazered through your skull, singing brain matter with the ferocity of his scowl. Frankly, you couldn’t care less– you can see it in your mind's eye; the gorgeous contrast of a blood-red crosshair settling across Hassan’s forehead, the weight of the trigger beneath your finger as you pull it back.

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee @crissteetee67 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @akaym2 @exploremyworldsm @thriving-n-jiving @su57 @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @tusk89 @bellasbees01 @dog55teeth

2K notes · View notes

sserasin · 1 year ago

Note

thinking abt toxic ex bf!yeonjun….

toxic ex!yeonjun

cw nsfw under cut, noncon, dubcon, female reader, jealousy, degrading names, brief mention of revenge porn, manipulation, dacryphilia, fingering (reader receiving)

toxic ex!yeonjun is so much worse than a toxic fwb!yeonjun cause he’s already had a taste of you, and he’s quite literally obsessed.

ex!yeonjun who can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else, and he knows he should let it go. but he loves you too damn much.

ex!yeonjun who gets pissed and jealous no matter who you’re talking to. it could be your best friend for years and he’d send you a stupid ass text talking about how you were moving on too fast, that you were a dirty whore who was good for nothing other than being a cumdump.

ex!yeonjun who retaliates by sending the nudes you sent him to his friends, his teammates, spreading them across school. it lowers your reputation and thus, getting rid of a lot of competition for him. but then he ends up regretting it because now his teammates are talking about how hot your body is and how easy it would be to fuck you.

ex!yeonjun ex!yeonjun was a perfect boyfriend, and he’s an even better manipulator. he lies and tells you that his icloud was hacked. and you, so desperate to cling to anyone you have left, stupidly believe him.

ex!yeonjun who soothes your cries, holding you in his arms and wipes your tears away. but he’s always had a thing for making you cry, and even out of sex, you’re just so goddamn beautiful crying— he can’t help that his cock hardens at the sight of the tears.

ex!yeonjun who whispers promises of making you feel better, showing you that you don’t deserve those scum sending you anonymous hate messages, as his lips trail down your neck and to your cleavage.

ex!yeonjun sneaks a hand in your pants, collecting your juices with his fingers before mercilessly pushing two of his fingers on, muffling your gasp with his mouth. “just, be a good girl for me,” yeonjun murmurs. the painful intrusion of his fingers lessen as he quickly finds your g-spot, ramming his fingers into the spot and curling them.

ex!yeonjun whose lips curl into a brief wicked smile as he watches you pant from your orgasm, licking his fingers clean. your fingers curl around his wrist, stopping him from moving (as if he was going to) and look up at him with wet eyelashes and pretty eyes, “i want more.”

ex!yeonjun who pushes you down on your bed, pulling your pants off fully, saying, “yeah? you always just want more and more, huh?” his words don’t exactly make sense, but your brain is too fogged over with sex, sex, and sex that you don’t care. you just want whatever he can give you. “i’ll give you what you want,” he only pulls his cock out, sliding it through your folds teasingly.

ex!yeonjun who grins when you beg, raising a hand to your neck to hold you there, “say you love me.” you blink, saying it without hesitation. “good girl,” he presses all of himself in you, cutting off your moan. he hisses, “fu—fuck, you’re such a good— hole. always so tight for me.”

ex!yeonjun who demands to know who else you’ve fucked or had any bit of a situationship with while you were broken up in the middle of sex. “what was his na— fuck, name?” “how far did you go?” and when you question him, “because it fuckin’ matters. tell me.” only gives you an orgasm when you agree to block the person, and definitely watches you block them after you’ve finished.

ex!yeonjun who doesn’t stop there, isolating you from your remaining friends and family. tells you lies about them, that they’ve been talking about you behind your back. convinces you not to confront them and simply block and ignore. they don’t deserve your time. somehow always leads up to sex, or he’s saying that shit during sex ‘cause he knows that’s when you’re most compliant— split on his cock.

ex!yeonjun will probably never reveal his true colors until you somehow find out— but he won’t let that happen. he’s got you wrapped around his finger, with no one to turn to.

#cw dubcon #cw noncon #yeonjun.txt #txt.txt #writing.txt #yeonjun smut #choi yeonjun smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt imagines

529 notes · View notes

archangeldyke-all · 9 months ago

Note

Taking care of pregnant sevika I beg 🙏 she’s such a peach

YEAH my period starts tomorrow the thought of taking care of her is making me teary eyed. i just wanna hold her <3

men and minors dni

your poor wife hasn't been comfortable in months.

pregnancy is hard enough with just one baby, poor sevika's carrying two of your babies inside her. and with half of their genes being hers, your babies are big.

little fucker's favorite game to play is 'lift the belly', where she (with the help of you, of course) lifts sevika's belly off her ribs for a few minutes to let her mommy breathe. sevika always melts into your arms when you do, sighing and sometimes crying in relief, her hands twirling her daughter's hair as you hold her belly.

she practically lives on the couch now. you've bought her about a million pregnancy pillows, and over the months of her pregnancy she's built a pretty impressive nest in your living room, all her pillows properly arranged for her to get in the perfect position to rest.

most nights she sleeps on the couch. you get it-- she can't get comfortable in bed-- but it doesn't stop you from missing her. so most nights you end up on the floor beside the couch on an air mattress, your hand tangled with sevika's as she snores.

and for the life of her. sevika cannot. stop. farting.

it's the funniest thing in the world. she can't help it, all her organs and intestines are squished to high hell with the babies growing in her belly, but it manages to catch you off guard each and every time. most of the time, it catches sevika off guard too.

you woke up one night to sevika tugging your hand. "'sup, baby?" you mumble, sitting up on your half deflated mattress.

"water." sevika grunts. you giggle and reach out to grab her ice water-- freshly made before bed-- handing her the water bottle in the dark.

you're half asleep, listening to your wife gulp down her water, when a loud, long, fart rings out throughout the entire house. it's so powerful you're pretty sure it causes a minor earthquake.

you burst into laughter. sevika groans and lays back down on the couch, reaching out to smack you gently as you cackle.

from down the hall, little fucker's sleepy voice pipes up from her bedroom. "awe, mommy, that was nasty!"

even sevika laughs at this, loud and bright; before both of you start hacking as the smell of her gas catches up to you.

in the first few months of her pregnancy, sevika struggles to let go and let you and little fucker care for her. but as she grows (and gets used to the constant, protective pampering from you and your daughter) sevika transforms into quite the princess. it's adorable. your usually stoic and independent wife is now batting her eyelashes at you from the couch, asking for a foot massage and a sandwich. you can never say no to her, no matter how ridiculous the request is-- especially not when she gives you the most sincere 'thank you' and a sweet kiss each time you do.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

231 notes · View notes

undercvrfan444 · 3 months ago

Text

The TV in your living room played on with the horror movie Satoru tricked you into watching. Somehow, your planned night of pampering and going to bed early was crashed rudely when the man barged through your front door.

You despised Satoru through and through. From your very first encounter with the silver haired man, he had rubbed you the wrong way. So when Suguru said he was coming by to keep an eye on you while he was away, you honestly felt like ripping your throat out.

“If we’re going to be in the same house together then we obviously need to spend some bonding time together, duh.” Is the excuse Satoru used when he showed up on your doorstep with drinks and snacks galore.

The longer your body pressed into the plush sofa cushions, sleep overtook you. It didn’t matter what you were necessarily tired from, just that the quiet hum of the movie lulled you deeper into a dreamy sleep. Every so often the man across from you would snicker under his breath before asking if you were awake, to which you’d reply with a grumbled “yes” or “leave me alone.”

Satoru obviously knew you were asleep. He could hear the quiet snores escaping through your lips while you clung onto the blanket you swore was for warding off the cold and definitely not being used as a shield against whatever popped up on screen. It was cute, how tough you claimed to be but couldn’t stand demonic movies. Satoru could vividly remember having a conversation with Suguru one day about all the morbid true crime documentaries you’d binge. Something never sat right with your older brother at how unfazed you were when hearing how some poor lady got hacked to death.

Getting up from his spot on the couch, Satoru couldn’t help stare at you for a minute. Any other time you’d leap up to rip his face off for looking so intently at you. That’s just how it was between you two, constant teasing and frustration. Of course he loved getting under your skin to watch you turn red and bite remarks back at him, but the other part of him wishes he would get to see the softer side of you more. Deep down Satoru knew he shouldn’t hold affection for you in the way he does. Stolen touches which leave his own fingertips tingling, secretive sniffs to catch a whiff of your perfume in passing, and his least favorite was how hard he’d get when seeing how you’ve filled out.

You were equal parts heaven and hell to Satoru.

He moves the blanket off of your sleeping body slowly before lifting you into his chest. One of his arms comes to bar underneath your thighs while the other rubs your back softly to keep you from waking. Selfishly Satoru could stay like this forever and never get sick of how your body feels wrapped around his. Your arms sleepily hug his neck to stay upright, despite the fact Satoru without a doubt had enough strength to keep you safe from falling.

The door to your room is pushed open quietly and cool air sends a chill down the silver haired man’s back. “Fuck.” He mumbles ever so softly under his breath, “Dunno how you stay warm.”

Easing you out of his arms, Satoru beds over your bed and pulls the duvet over your chest. For a second he lingers. Thinking. Before brushing a messy strand out of your face and pressing his lips to your forehead.

Your eyelashes barely flutter open before you’re calling out to him. “‘Toru?”

Feeling his heart leap from his chest, Satoru moves away and hums in response. Thankfully you aren’t able to see how flushed his face is from almost being caught due to the dark.

“‘m cold.” You whine tiredly and pull the covers closer to your face. One of your hands stick out and tugs on the hem of his sweater. “C’mere.”

Letting you guide him into bed with you, Satoru lays on his back with a quiet ‘oopmf’. Sleepy and out of it, you slide towards the seam of him chest and arm. The man wraps his arm around your waist and lifts a little to situate you ontop of him. The soft cotton feel of his top against your face coaxes you to sink deeper into the older man.

If Suguru could see his little sister now, Satoru knew he’d blow a gasket. The thin shirt you wore riding up to expose the valley like curve of your spine mixed with the sweet smell lingering on your skin sent blood rushing to Satoru’s cock involuntarily. The man had always thought you were beautiful, of course. But…the older you got, the more Satoru really noticed you. From the way your curves filled out and pushed through your clothes, to the (admittedly cute) way your face would flush a shade darker each time Satoru made a dirty joke around you. The same could be said for your own observations. But unlike Satoru, you’ve had a small crush on the man since you met him all those years ago. Only

Now he’s grown at least a foot taller, his muscles rival those of a professional athlete, the once boyish rounded features he had are now sharper; sturdier. And his voice. You’ve never enjoyed hearing your name from another person’s lips until you met Satoru and from then on every time he called out to you, tingles shot through your spine.

So truthfully, you were both guilty of being selfish when Suguru’s feelings were involved. His best friend who had wet dreams and the nastiest of thought about his little sister, who couldn’t say anything different of herself.

(uh so I kind of ran out of ideas for this)

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo fluff

137 notes · View notes

lassieposting · 2 years ago

Text

So anyway I think it would be funny if Garrus kept getting a bit distracted during his extensive research into human biology

Like obviously he reads the pamphlets (helpfully provided by Mordin) and watches the porn (gleefully provided by Joker) but he also does a bunch of his own extranet deep-diving because he's Like That, he's got Detective Brain, and he doesn't half-ass anything

But he knows the Normandy extranet hub is not private: Cerberus is probably spying on all of them, EDI has unrestricted systems access and a tendency to share anything she finds interesting with Joker, Legion can hack into anything, Tali likes to gossip. So, to a) avoid putting Shepard in an awkward position with the Illusive Man and b) keep his sex life private, he uses vague search terms. Human biology. Human organs. Evolution of humanity. Human reproductive cycle. Interesting facts about humans. Interspecies workplace communication.

And then he gets sidetracked. 50 Weird Facts About Humans leads him to 10 Reasons Humans Are Scary which leads him to an article about humans as persistence predators. An Overview Of Human Body Parts leads him to 5 Body Parts Humans Don't Actually Need which leads him to articles on wisdom teeth and tonsils and the appendix, which can apparently explode at random. He gets clickbaited.

And now he has all this new knowledge he finds fascinating and wants to share! So he starts doing things like telling Kelly how many bones she has, or explaining Why Humans Evolved Eyelashes at the dinner table and then asking Jack why she evolved eye hairs, but not head hairs. Or asking Jacob how tall he is, and then thoughtfully musing about how that's short for his species.

And, in Shepard's cabin, when he nervously mentions having done some research, she slinks over to get all up in his personal space in her bathtowel and asks him what he learned. At which point he panics, all the sexy one liners about sensitive spots evacuate his brain immediately, and he blurts out that according to the extranet, the anus is the first part of an infant human to develop in the womb, so, you know, when Saren said humans were a bunch of assholes he was not technically wrong

(Shepard looks at him for a minute. Like, a really long minute. Just blinking. He's fairly sure he's about to be booted into the elevator and she'll keep the wine, to get over this disastrous encounter. And then she explodes with laughter, tells him he's ridiculous, and shuts him up by kissing him, because at least someone here has her head in the game)

#mass effect #shakarian #mass effect headcanons #garrus vakarian

972 notes · View notes

inkformyblood · 4 months ago

Text

wife-plot fireworks (SVSSS)

Cumplane, Shang Qinghua & Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu (vibes are there for both, readers choice). Canon universe.

It’s not like Airplane could be expected to remember everything he wrote about; he’s not Cucumber-bro who could simply flip through his rolodex of complaints for whatever plotline they stumble into. Writing isn’t an exact science, there’s too many scenes gutted for their edible flesh and the bones discarded onto his cluttered apartment floor for him to keep track of who, what, when, where. He’d been fucking starving, okay? Real singing-for-his-supper shit which is cute when he had been in his twenties, desperate when he hit thirty, and downright chronic when forty began to loom on the horizon. So all of the papapa scenes that got Cucumber-bro’s silken boxers in such a twist had been necessary after a point, the reasons thinner and thinner as he scraped his knife against his bread to make it stretch further.

“Disgraceful,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, each syllable as crisp as the fan he wields with devastating accuracy at the back of Shang Qinghua’s head. He’s pulling his blows, a necessity given their current situation, and Shang Qinghua takes the next corner without slowing, planting his sword in the ground to give him the leverage needed.

“Hey, bro! Not cool.” Shang Qinghua hefts Shen Qingqiu higher — fuck, there’s barely anything to him, inertia might be keeping him stable but it wasn’t doing anything to cushion the hips currently bruising Shang Qinghua’s shoulder, his collarbone — wobbles and keeps running. “Not my fault that you seem to be wife-plot catnip for every poor sucker you bat your eyelashes at.”

“I do not—” Another corner, another slide of Shen Qingqiu across Shang Qinghua’s shoulder, slight enough that if he keeps whining then Shang Qinghua is just going to tuck him under one arm to carry him. Out of the corner of his eye, Shen Qingqiu’s face is crimson, a flush covering his sharp features like a veil. “—bat my eyelashes!”

He does. Might be thinking it makes him look sophisticated or even mysterious, that lidded gaze from behind his fan, and it does. Sometimes.

“You agreed to be a human sacrifice, Cucumber-bro.”

“Airplane-bro, it’s the wife-plot for 287, I’m sure of it.”

Fuck, how many narrow alleyways did one small town need? In the distance, Shang Qinghua can still make out the mob condensing behind them, their shouts barely audible beneath the desperate pounding of his own heart.

Shen Qingqiu continues, measured the same way he must have written his novels entirely in comment-format, rapid-fire and barely pausing for breath. “She was the daughter of a village chief and Binghe encountered her during a spring festival that was held every ten years, like everytime he turned up at some small village.”

“Cucumber-bro, it was what the readers wanted and festivals are fun and convenient.”

“Hack writer.”

“Who’s carrying your skinny wife-plot arse around.”

Shen Qingqiu scowls, palpable through the very air cooling several degrees. Shang Qinghua, his heart lodged in his throat, his lungs burning for air, reflexively turns to look for a portal, waits for a heavy hand on his shoulder. Shit, he meant to send a missive to his king over an hour ago. They round another corner, Shang Qinghua’s shoulder knocking into the building opposite, bruising but that’s a problem for later, and slide to a halt.

A crowd stares back, dark eyes glittering beneath the flare of their torches, faces shadowed by the encroaching gloom.

Shen Qingqiu lowers himself to look beneath Shang Qinghua’s elbow, the ornament from his hair finally coming loose and landing with a gentle plink on the cobblestones. His hair falls freely with it, dark tresses brushing the ground.

“Give us back the maiden!” A voice shouts from the back, indignant, brash to match the flourish of a blade drawn.

“Time to run. Again!”

“Head for the outskirts,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, fumbling with the pouch at his waist as he drags himself back upright. It’s uncomfortable, a hand shoved between a press of bone against bone, a flare of energy that bursts behind Shang Qinghua’s eyes like a three-day-old headache. “If we can just set off the fireworks, then the festival will be over and they’ll stop chasing us.”

“Remind me how that’ll work? Your plan so far was to volunteer—” Shang Qinghua raises his voice to a near shout, slamming his words over Shen Qingqiu’s spluttered complaint. “—and then say ‘No time to explain. Just grab the fireworks and follow me.’ You got three steps away.”

“Without-A-Cure was your creation.”

“This entire place is my creation.” Shang Qinghua can’t let himself dwell too long on that fact because then he’d need to sit down somewhere dark and quiet and chew his knuckles until they bleed. The buildings are becoming sparser now, glimpses of the horizon visible in the spaces between them, but it doesn’t help the sinking sensation of eyes crawling over his skin, something small and fragile skittering out in the open while a predator circles overhead.

Shouts echo behind him but he doesn’t slow, vaulting over a fence and sinking into the tangle of grass on the other side. He lands on his knees in a crouch, tipping himself sideways to let Shen Qingqiu down with a grunt of effort. He’s no longer moving so the panic begins to fizz in his belly, his eyes wide and staring out at the tiny pinpricks of light filtering between the buildings. “What now?”

“Wife 287 was scheduled to participate in the festival but Binghe’s cultivation prowess caused a reaction and the spirits were appeased early.”

Shang Qinghua chews his lower lip, pulling some of the grass free in front of him and twisting it around his fingers. Lights skim across his vision, the crowd still searching for them both, and he ties a knot into the grass, beginning to braid it. “So, fireworks?”

“Fireworks. If you could?”

It’s kind of nice to just lie down and watch the fireworks rain overhead. Shen Qingqiu’s fingers twist into Shang Qinghua’s, squeezing tight before they relax.

#cumplane #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #svsss #my writing

73 notes · View notes