#Short Term Shops | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojosconsort · 14 days ago

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breaking nanami's restraint

𓂃୨ৎ as a young barista, you tease nanami kento’s calm with shameless flirting because it’s just so fun until one night, he breaks.

𓂃୨ৎ pairing. afab!reader x older!office-worker!nanami

𓂃୨ৎ warnings. mdni. age gap (reader in early 20s, nanami in mid-40s), oral (both receiving), unprotected sex, cum play, dirty talk, begging, overstimulation, workplace setting, degradation (use of terms like "slut")

the café’s bell jingles, and your head snaps up. it’s him—nanami kento, the man who’s been driving you wild for weeks. mid-forties, tailored suit hugging his broad shoulders, blonde hair neat but just tousled enough to make your fingers itch.

he’s so hot, the kind of guy who could silence a room without trying. you’re barely out of college, working this downtown coffee shop to pay rent, and every time he steps in, you feel like you’re burning up.

“afternoon,” he says, voice deep and clipped, like he’s rationing words. he orders the same thing every time: black coffee, no sugar, croissant he picks at. it’s not about the food—you can tell by the way he watches you instead of the plate.

“hey, fancy seeing you,” you say, popping your hip against the counter, letting your skirt ride up just a bit. you’re not shy about it—leaning forward, cleavage peeking out of your low-cut top, giving him a smile that’s more heat than hospitality. his eyes flick down, just for a second, before locking onto yours. it’s quick, but you catch it, and it fuels you.

“usual?” you ask, already knowing the answer. you turn to the espresso machine, swaying your hips more than necessary, feeling his gaze like a weight on your skin. the café’s dead today, just the buzz of the fridge and some soft jazz you picked to set the mood. every move you make is for him—stretching to grab a cup, letting your shirt lift to show a little skin.

he nods, settling at his window table, tie knotted tight. he’s reserved, always is, but you’ve seen the cracks—those brief glances, the way his jaw ticks when you get too close. you want to shatter that composure, make him react, make him want you the way you’re dying for him.

you bring his order over, bending a little too far as you set it down, your hair brushing his hand. “so, you ever gonna mix it up, or is boring your thing?” you tease.

he glances up, expression unreadable. “i like what i like,” he says, flat but deliberate, and you swear there’s a spark in his eyes. it’s enough to keep you hooked.

“bet i could change your mind,” you say, winking, and saunter back to the counter, feeling his stare follow you. you’re shameless—flipping your hair, licking your lips when you catch him looking, dropping a spoon just to bend over and pick it up slow.

he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blush, just sips his coffee like you’re not putting on a show. but he’s here, isn’t he? every other day, same time, same table. he likes it, even if he won’t admit it.

days went by, and you crank it up. one afternoon, it’s raining hard, and he’s the only one in the shop. you’re wiping tables near him, skirt short enough to make you blush if you cared. “you never tell me anything,” you pout, leaning close enough that your arm brushes his. “what’s a guy like you do all day? save the world? break hearts?”

“work,” he says, not looking up from his paper. “spreadsheets. meetings. nothing you’d care about.”

“oh, i care,” you say, voice low, resting your hand on the table, fingers grazing his. he doesn’t pull away, but his grip on the paper tightens. “you look like you could do anything and make it sexy.”

his eyes meet yours, steady and piercing. “you’re bold,” he says, and it’s not a compliment or an insult—just a fact. but the way his voice dips makes your thighs clench.

“you keep coming back, so it’s working,” you shoot back, grinning. you let your hand linger a second longer before pulling away, swaying back to the counter. you’re buzzing, heart racing, but he just goes back to his paper like nothing happened.

it’s maddening, and you love it.

the touches start small, always you initiating. you hand him his coffee, letting your fingers slide over his, slow and deliberate. he doesn’t react, but he doesn’t pull away either. another day, you’re passing him a napkin, and your wrist brushes his, skin on skin for a heartbeat. his eyes flick to yours, dark and unreadable, and you smile like you’ve won something.

one busy afternoon, the café’s packed, and you’re weaving through the crowd. he’s at his table, and you “accidentally” bump into him, your hip grazing his shoulder. “oops,” you say, turning to give him a coy look. his jaw clenches, just for a second, and you feel a rush knowing you got under his skin.

you keep pushing. wiping down his table, you lean over just enough to let him see down your shirt, pretending you don’t notice. you drop a pen near his chair and take your time picking it up, skirt riding up. every time, he’s stone—calm, controlled, sipping his damn coffee. but he’s here, and that’s your victory. he could go anywhere, but he picks your café, your teasing, your shameless flirting.

one night, you’re closing up, and he’s the last one left. you’re bold tonight, high on the thrill of the game. you lock the door, flip the sign to “closed,” and saunter over, leaning against his table, skirt barely covering your thighs. “you’re gonna miss your train,” you say.

he looks up, folding his paper with agonizing slowness. “i’ll manage.”

you tilt your head, letting your hair fall over one shoulder. “you know, i’m starting to think you like me making a fool of myself for you.”

he stands, towering over you, and for the first time, he steps close—close enough you can smell his cologne, feel the heat off him. his hand brushes your arm as he reaches for his coat, the touch so light you almost miss it, but it sends a jolt through you. “you’re not a fool,” he says, voice low, almost rough. “but you’re playing a dangerous game.”

your breath catches, but you don’t back down. “good thing i like danger,” you whisper, looking up through your lashes.

he holds your gaze, and for a second, you think he might break—might grab you, kiss you, something. but then he steps back, slipping on his coat. “see you tomorrow,” he says, and he’s gone, leaving you trembling and aching in the empty café.

that night, you’re sprawled across your bed, the faint hum of the city outside your window drowned out by the heat coursing through you. nanami’s burned into your mind, his sharp jaw, the way his suit clings to his frame, that maddening restraint in his eyes when you push his buttons.

you close your eyes, and he’s there—tie loose, sleeves rolled up, standing over you in the empty café. your hand’s already between your thighs, fingers slick, but it’s not enough. it’s never enough when it’s him you’re craving.

you imagine him grabbing your wrists, pinning them to the counter, his voice low and rough in your ear. “you’ve been teasing me for weeks,” he’d say, breath hot against your neck. “think i don’t notice?” you picture him pressing himself against you, his fat cock hard and heavy through his slacks, grinding into your hip until you’re whimpering.

your fingers move faster, desperate, but they’re a pale substitute for what you want—him, thick and stretching you, filling you so deep you’d feel it for days. you’d beg for it, you know you would, thighs spread wide on that counter, skirt hiked up, pleading for him to fuck you senseless.

in your fantasy, he’s not gentle. he’d yank your blouse open, buttons popping, mouth on your tits, sucking hard enough to leave marks. you’d arch into him, moaning his name—kento—and he’d growl, finally losing that iron grip on his control.

you imagine his hands, big and calloused, spreading your thighs, his cock nudging against you, teasing until you’re shaking. “this what you wanted?” he’d ask, voice dark, and then he’d thrust in, slow at first, letting you feel every inch, every vein, until he’s buried to the hilt.

your fingers curl inside you, trying to mimic the stretch, but it’s nothing compared to how you know he’d ruin you, pounding you until the café’s tables rattle, until you’re sobbing his name.

you want his weight on you, his sweat mixing with yours, his cock splitting you open while he mutters filthy things about how you’ve been asking for this, how you’ve been dripping for him every time you bent over in that short skirt. you’d claw at his back, legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper, needing more, always more.

your orgasm builds, sharp and fast, as you picture him coming, groaning low in his throat, spilling inside you, hot and thick, claiming you in a way your fingers never could.

you cum with a gasp, body trembling, but it’s hollow. your hand’s not him, not his fat cock, not his hands or his mouth or the way he’d make you scream. you lie there, panting, wishing he was there to see you like this—wrecked, needy, all because of him.

the next day, you’re wired, the memory of your fantasy making you bold. the bell chimes, and nanami walks in, same suit, same stoic face, but you’re done playing subtle. “hey, you,” you say, voice dripping with mischief as you lean forward, letting your blouse gape just enough. “usual?”

he nods, eyes flicking over you, lingering a second too long. “yes. thank you.”

you pour his coffee, swaying your hips as you move, making sure he’s watching. when you bring it to his table, you lean in close, closer than necessary, your hair brushing his shoulder. “had a long night,” you say, voice low, teasing. “couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

his hand pauses on the cup, fingers tightening just slightly. he doesn’t look up, but you catch the faintest tic in his jaw. “that so?” he says, voice even, like he’s not fazed. but you’re not buying it.

“mmhm,” you hum, resting a hand on the table, fingers inches from his. “kept me up way too late. had to… take care of things myself.” you let the words hang, heavy and deliberate, watching for any crack in that stoic facade.

his eyes snap to yours, dark and intense, and you see it—the bulge in his slacks, unmistakable, growing as your words sink in. his jaw clenches, knuckles white around the cup, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. you smirk, knowing you’ve got him, and saunter back to the counter, hips swaying. “you’re here every day,” you call over your shoulder. “guess i’m not the only one who can’t stay away.”

he stays silent, but his stare burns into you, and you know you’re chipping away at that restraint. you’re not done—not until he breaks and gives you everything you’ve been fantasizing about.

the next day, the bell chimes, and nanami steps in, suit crisp, face as unreadable as ever, but you’re not fooled. he’s here, same time, same table.

that’s all the proof you need.

you’re behind the counter, blouse unbuttoned just enough to tease, skirt clinging to your hips. “usual, handsome?” you call out, voice dripping with intent, leaning forward so he gets a good view.

he nods, eyes flicking over you, lingering on the curve of your chest before meeting your gaze. “yes,” he says, voice steady, but there’s a tightness there, like he’s holding himself in check.

you pour his coffee, making a show of it, bending slightly to let your skirt ride up. when you bring it to his table, you lean in close, your hand brushing his as you set the cup down. “so,” you murmur, low and sultry, “you ever touch yourself thinking about me? ‘cause i sure as hell do thinking about you.”

his eyes narrow, and for a second, you think you’ve got him—his breath catches, just barely. but then he leans back, folding his arms, studying you like you’re a problem he’s solving. “how old are you?” he asks, voice calm but pointed.

you grin, undeterred, propping a hand on your hip. “early twenties. why, you worried i’m too young for you?”

he exhales, almost a scoff, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “i’m old enough to be your dad.”

your pulse spikes, and you lean closer, letting your voice drop to a purr. “even better.”

his jaw tightens, and there it was again—the bulge in his slacks, betraying him. he shifts in his seat, trying to hide it, but you’re already smirking, knowing you’ve hit a nerve. “you’re playing with fire,” he says, low and rough, but he doesn’t get up, doesn’t leave.

“good,” you whisper, straightening up, giving him a view of your ass as you saunter back to the counter. “i like it hot.”

he doesn’t respond, just watches you with that heavy, unreadable stare, but he stays, sipping his coffee, and you know you’re wearing him down, inch by filthy inch.

that evening, you’re closing up, the café dark except for the glow of the streetlights filtering through the windows. nanami’s still there, the last one, lingering at his table with his coffee long gone, pretending to read his paper. you know he’s watching you, and you’re not about to waste the chance. you lock the door, flip the sign to “closed,” and turn up the heat.

you saunter toward him, rag in hand and stop at his table, leaning over to grab his empty cup, “accidentally” knocking over a water glass. it splashes across his slacks, soaking the fabric over his thigh. “oh, shit,” you say, fake-apologetic, grabbing the rag. “let me fix that.”

before he can protest, you’re on your knees between his legs, right there in the dim café. you press the rag to his thigh, rubbing slow, your hands dangerously close to the obvious bulge straining against his pants.

he’s hard—so hard—and you feel a thrill knowing it’s because of you. you look up at him, all innocent, but your eyes say something else. “can’t let you leave all messy,” you murmur, and then, bold as hell, you lean in and drag your tongue over the wet spot on his slacks, tasting the faint salt of the water and the heat of him beneath.

his breath hitches, loud in the quiet, and you feel his thigh tense under your hands. you glance up, and his control’s gone—eyes dark, jaw clenched, hands gripping the table like he’s holding himself back. “what the hell are you doing?” he growls, voice rough, but he doesn’t push you away.

“cleaning up,” you say, all coy, licking your lips as you hold his gaze. you press your palm against his bulge, just enough to make him hiss, and that’s it—he snaps.

nanami grabs your arms, hauling you up and onto the table in one swift move, papers and cups scattering. his mouth crashes into yours, hard and hungry, all that pent-up restraint pouring out. it’s messy, desperate—his tongue claiming yours, teeth grazing your lip, one hand fisting in your hair while the other grips your hip, pulling you flush against him. you moan into his mouth, tasting coffee and him, your hands clawing at his tie, yanking it loose.

“you’ve been begging for this,” he mutters against your lips, voice raw, his hard-on pressing into your thigh through his slacks. “fucking relentless.”

“and you love it,” you gasp, arching into him, skirt riding up as he slots himself between your legs. his kiss is bruising, all control and want, and you’re dizzy with it, with him finally giving in, ready to see how much further you can push him.

nanami’s hands are everywhere—yanking your hair, gripping your hips, his hard-on grinding into you through his slacks. you’re dizzy, thighs trembling, but he’s not done. not even close. he pulls back, eyes black with want, and you see the moment he decides to ruin you.

“you’ve been asking for this,” he growls, voice thick with need. your skirt’s already bunched up, and he doesn’t bother with finesse—his hands shove your thighs apart, rough and impatient, spreading you open. you’re soaked, panties clinging to you, and the way he looks at you, like he’s starving, makes your core clench.

“fuck, look at you,” he mutters, almost to himself, as he hooks his fingers under your panties and rips them down, tossing them somewhere behind the counter. you gasp, but it’s cut off when he drops to his knees, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider. his hands dig into your thighs, holding you in place, and then his mouth’s on you, no warning, no teasing—just raw, filthy hunger.

his tongue dives into your folds, lapping at you like he’s been deprived for years. it’s messy, wet, obscene—his lips sucking your clit, tongue flicking over it before plunging inside you, tasting every inch of your dripping cunt. you moan, loud and shameless, hands fisting in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan against you. the vibrations shoot through you, and your hips buck, grinding against his face, but he holds you down, fingers bruising your skin.

“stay still,” he orders, voice muffled but sharp, and you try, but it’s impossible when he’s eating you out like this, like he wants to devour every last drop. his tongue fucks into you, deep and relentless, then drags up to circle your clit, sucking hard until you’re whimpering, thighs shaking. you’re a mess—slick dripping down your thighs, coating his chin, and he doesn’t care, doesn’t let up, just licks you harder, greedier.

“kento,” you gasp, voice breaking, and he growls, doubling down. he’s sloppy, unhinged, nothing like the controlled man who orders black coffee. his hands slide to your ass, pulling you closer, tongue working you open as he moans into your pussy, like he’s getting off on this as much as you are. you can feel him, hard and straining in his slacks, but he’s too focused on you, on making you feel good.

you’re close, so close, the heat coiling tight in your belly. he knows it—senses it in the way you tighten around his tongue—and he pushes harder, sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking it with quick, brutal strokes. “come for me,” he demands, voice rough against your skin, and that’s all it takes. you shatter, crying out, hips jerking as your orgasm rips through you, slick gushing against his mouth. he doesn’t stop, lapping up every bit, drawing it out until you’re whining, oversensitive, legs trembling.

he pulls back, finally, lips glistening, eyes wild as he looks up at you. his hair’s a mess from your hands, tie hanging loose, and you can see the bulge in his slacks, bigger than before, straining like he’s about to burst. you’re panting, still catching your breath, but you manage a shaky grin. “fuck, nanami, you’re filthy.”

“you have no idea,” he says, standing, voice dark with promise as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, already reaching for his belt.

“my turn,” you purr, sliding off the table, legs shaky but determined. you drop to your knees in front of him, the café’s dim light casting shadows over his sharp features. his jaw tightens as you reach for his zipper, tugging it down slow, teasing, until his cock springs free. it’s thick, heavy, veins pulsing, and your mouth waters at the sight. he’s bigger than you imagined, and you’ve imagined a lot.

“fuck,” you whisper, gripping him at the base, feeling him twitch in your hand. you look up, meeting his dark gaze, and give him a wicked grin before leaning in, dragging your tongue along the underside, slow and deliberate. he groans, low and guttural, one hand bracing against the table as you swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the bead of precum there.

you don’t ease him into it. you take him deep, lips stretching around his girth, hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head, sloppy and eager. he’s so thick it’s a struggle, but you love it—the way he fills your mouth, the way his hips jerk slightly, like he’s fighting to stay in control. you push further, nose brushing his pelvis, throat constricting as you swallow around him.

“shit,” he hisses, hand fisting in your hair, not gentle but not cruel—yet. “you’re too fucking good at this.”

you hum, the vibration making him curse again, and you pick up the pace, sucking hard, letting spit drip down your chin. it’s messy, rough, your hands gripping his thighs for leverage as you take him deeper, faster. he’s close, you can feel it—his breaths ragged, his grip tightening, hips starting to thrust, shallow at first, then harder, fucking your mouth like he can’t hold back anymore.

“look at you,” he growls, voice raw, “taking it so well, so fucking greedy.” his words send a jolt through you, and you moan around him, letting him use you, loving the way he’s losing it. he’s rough now, thrusting deep, hitting the back of your throat until your eyes water, but you don’t care—you want him wrecked, want him to break.

his control slips completely, hips snapping, hand guiding your head as he fucks your mouth. you’re a mess—spit slicking your lips, tears streaking your cheeks, but you keep going, hollowing your cheeks, sucking like you’re starving for him. “gonna come,” he warns, voice strained, and you double down, taking him as deep as you can, moaning to push him over the edge.

he snaps, a low groan ripping from his throat as he comes, hard and sudden, flooding your mouth with hot, thick spurts. it’s so much, more than you expected, spilling past your lips, dripping down your chin as you try to swallow it all. he keeps thrusting, shallow now, riding it out, and you let him, milking every last drop until he’s shuddering, grip loosening in your hair.

you pull back, gasping, his cum smeared across your lips, dripping onto your chest, staining your blouse. you swipe a finger through the mess on your chin, sucking it clean while holding his gaze, and he groans again, like you’re killing him.

“fuck,” he mutters, still catching his breath, looking down at you like he’s seeing you for the first time—wrecked, filthy, perfect. “you’re a goddamn menace.”

you grin, voice hoarse. “and you’re still hard.” you nod at his cock, still half-erect, and his eyes darken.

“get up,” he orders, voice low and rough, sending a shiver through you. you stand, legs wobbly, and he grabs your waist, spinning you around to face the table. his hands are rough, shoving you forward until your hips slam against the edge, your palms slapping the surface to brace yourself.

he’s behind you, heat radiating off him, and you feel his cock—hard again, impossibly thick—press against your ass.

“you wanted this,” he growls, yanking your skirt up higher, exposing you completely and you’re dripping, slick coating your thighs. his hand slides between your legs, fingers grazing your folds, and you gasp, pushing back against him. he chuckles, dark and mean. “so fucking wet. you’re desperate, aren’t you?”

“please, kento,” you whine, wiggling your hips, but he slaps your ass, sharp enough to sting, making you yelp.

“not yet,” he says, voice cold, controlled, but you hear the edge in it, the hunger he’s barely reining in. “you’ve been teasing me for weeks, acting like a little slut. you don’t get it that easy.”

his fingers tease you, circling your clit, slow and torturous, never giving you enough. you squirm, trying to grind against his hand, but he grips your hip, holding you still. “beg,” he demands, leaning over you, his breath hot against your ear. “tell me how bad you want it.”

“fuck, please,” you gasp, voice breaking. “i need you, kento, need your cock, please, just fuck me.”

“not good enough,” he says, pulling his hand away, leaving you empty and aching. you whimper, frustration burning, but he’s relentless, sliding his cock between your thighs, letting it glide against your slick folds without entering. it’s torture—his thick length so close, brushing your clit, but not giving you what you need. “say it like you mean it.”

“kento, please, i’m begging,” you sob, pushing back, desperate. “i need you inside me, need you to fuck me so hard i can’t walk, please, i’ll do anything.”

he groans, low and primal, and you feel him line up, the fat tip of his cock nudging your entrance. “that’s better,” he mutters, but he doesn’t move, just holds himself there, stretching you just enough to make you whine. “you sure you can take it? i’m not small, and you’re so fucking tight.”

“i can take it,” you pant, though you’re not sure, not with how massive he feels, but you want it, want him to ruin you. “please, just do it.”

he doesn’t ease in. he thrusts, hard and deep, forcing his cock into you in one brutal stroke. you cry out, the stretch burning, overwhelming—he’s so big, so thick, it feels like he’s splitting you open.

your walls clench around him, struggling to take him, and he hisses, gripping your hips so hard you’ll bruise. “fuck, you’re tight,” he growls, pulling back just to slam in again, rough and unforgiving.

it hurts, but it’s good, so fucking good, the way he fills you completely, hitting spots you didn’t know existed. you’re moaning, incoherent, nails scratching the table as he sets a punishing pace, each thrust jarring your body, the table digging into your hips. “kento, oh god,” you gasp, barely able to speak, and he laughs, low and cruel.

“thought you could handle it,” he taunts, leaning over you, his chest pressed to your back. “look at you, barely taking half.” he thrusts harder, deeper, and you scream, feeling him bully his way into your core, stretching you to your limit. “beg me to slow down.”

“no,” you choke out, defiant even as tears prick your eyes. “harder, please, fuck me harder.”

he groans, like your words snap something in him, and he gives it to you—pounding into you, relentless, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the café. your legs shake, barely holding you up, but his hands keep you in place, fucking you like he’s trying to break you. “greedy little thing,” he mutters, one hand sliding to your clit, rubbing rough circles that make you see stars. “come on, beg for it again.”

“please, kento, make me come,” you sob, so close but not there, his cock overwhelming, his fingers merciless. “need it, need you, please.”

“not yet,” he says, slowing just enough to drag it out, torturing you with long, deep strokes that keep you teetering on the edge. you’re whimpering, pleading, but he holds you there, making you feel every inch of him, every brutal thrust. “you come when i say.”

you’re a wreck, body trembling, cunt clenching around him, and finally, finally, he picks up the pace again, slamming into you, fingers working your clit until you’re screaming, your orgasm crashing over you, gushing around his cock. he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it, chasing his own release, and you’re oversensitive, whining, but he doesn’t care.

“fuck, gonna fill you up,” he groans, thrusts erratic, and then he’s coming, hot and thick, so much it spills out, dripping down your thighs. he keeps moving, milking it, until you’re both panting, spent, your body limp against the table.

he pulls out, slow, and you whimper at the emptiness, his cum leaking from you, pooling on the floor. he steps back, breathing hard, watching you—messy, dripping, barely able to stand—and mutters, “look at the mess you made.”

you try to catch your breath, grinning shakily. “worth it,” you rasp, voice hoarse from screaming his name. but he doesn’t smile back, doesn’t soften. instead, he steps closer, towering over you, one hand gripping your hip to keep you in place.

“you think we’re done?” he growls, voice low and dangerous, sending a fresh pulse of heat through you. his other hand slides between your legs, fingers finding the mess he left, his cum dripping from your swollen cunt. you gasp, oversensitive, as he scoops it up, thick and warm, and pushes it back inside you with two fingers, slow and deliberate.

“kento—fuck,” you whimper, hips jerking as he curls his fingers, shoving his cum deeper, your walls fluttering around him. it’s obscene, the wet squelch of it, the way he’s claiming you again, making sure every drop stays inside. you’re trembling, barely able to stand, but he doesn’t let up, fucking his cum back into you with a focus that makes your head spin.

“you’re gonna keep this,” he murmurs, almost to himself, eyes locked on where his fingers disappear inside you. “every fucking bit of it.” his thumb brushes your clit, rough and relentless, and you cry out, oversensitive but helpless under his touch. he’s not gentle—his fingers pump deeper, harder, like he’s punishing you for how much you want it, how much you’re still clenching around him.

“look at you,” he says, “dripping with me, still so fucking needy.” he leans in, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot. “you’re mine now, you know that? gonna fuck you so full you’ll feel me for days.”

you moan, head falling back against the table, your body arching into his hand. his fingers are relentless, pushing his cum deeper, stretching you, and you’re already building again, despite the ache, despite how wrecked you are. “please, kento,” you beg, voice breaking, “make me come again.”

he chuckles, dark and cruel, and adds a third finger, the stretch making you gasp, his cum and your slick coating his hand. “greedy little slut,” he mutters, but there’s heat in it, like he’s loving every second of your desperation. he works you harder, thumb circling your clit, fingers fucking you until you’re sobbing, another orgasm ripping through you, gushing around his hand, mixing with his cum.

he doesn’t pull out right away, keeping his fingers inside, holding his release there like a promise. you’re panting, limp, his cum still leaking despite his efforts, and he smirks, finally pulling his hand free. he brings his fingers to your lips, smeared with both of you, and you suck them clean without hesitation, tasting him, tasting yourself, eyes locked on his.

“filthy,” he says, almost proud, wiping his hand on your thigh before stepping back, adjusting his tie like nothing happened. “clean yourself up. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

you’re left there, shaking, his cum still inside you, knowing you’ll feel him every time you move, and already craving the next time he walks through that door.

#—amy writes : kento nanami ★#nanami kento smut #nanami smut #kento smut #nanami x reader smut #kento nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x reader #divider by cafekitsune

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realestateqatar · 10 months ago

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Exploring Qatar’s Real Estate Market: Investment Opportunities in Rental Properties

Qatar's real estate market has grown exponentially over the past decade, driven by the country’s rapid economic expansion, infrastructural development, and hosting of global events.This growth has positioned Qatar as a prime destination for real estate investment, particularly in the rental property sector. For investors, understanding the market dynamics, regulations, and potential opportunities is key to capitalizing on this thriving market.

Why Invest in Qatar’s Rental Property Market?

Qatar offers a range of compelling reasons to invest in rental properties. First and foremost, the government’s efforts to diversify the economy have attracted a significant expatriate workforce, resulting in high demand for rental housing. As the majority of expats prefer renting to buying property due to residency regulations and the flexibility it offers, rental properties in key areas of Doha and other major cities often command attractive rental yields.

Moreover, Qatar’s stable political climate, strategic location, and pro-business environment have made it a secure market for foreign investors. The government has designated specific areas as freehold zones, such as The Pearl, Lusail City, and West Bay Lagoon, where foreigners can purchase properties outright. This has opened up new opportunities for investors to acquire rental properties and benefit from long-term capital appreciation while generating steady rental income.

Types of Rental Investment Opportunities

Qatar’s rental market provides various investment options, catering to different investor preferences and risk profiles. Some of the most popular rental property types include:

Residential Apartments: High-end apartments, particularly in areas like The Pearl and Lusail City, are in high demand among expats. These areas offer luxurious living spaces, modern amenities, and stunning waterfront views, making them attractive for short term rental Doha. The demand for short-term rentals is particularly strong among expats on work assignments, tourists, and business travelers, providing investors with the flexibility to set competitive rental rates.

Villas: For investors seeking premium returns, villas in upscale neighborhoods offer a lucrative opportunity. These properties typically attract families and high-income professionals who prefer spacious living environments. Investing in villas can result in higher rental income, though it requires a larger initial capital outlay.

Serviced Apartments: Serviced apartments cater to a niche market of residents and visitors seeking fully furnished, hotel-like accommodations. They are ideal for short-term rentals and can provide high rental yields due to their convenience and included amenities, such as housekeeping and 24/7 security.

Key Considerations for Investing in Rental Properties

Before diving into Qatar's rental market, investors should take into account several important factors:

Location: The property's location is a critical determinant of its rental value and occupancy rate. Areas like The Pearl, Lusail City, and West Bay Lagoon are popular among expats and tourists, making them prime locations for rental investments. Proximity to essential services, shopping centers, schools, and transportation hubs further enhances the property's appeal.

Property Management: Managing rental properties can be demanding, especially for investors who are not based in Qatar. Therefore, engaging a reputable property management company can help with tenant screening, maintenance, rent collection, and legal compliance.

Legal Regulations: Investors must familiarize themselves with Qatar's real estate laws, including ownership rights, tenancy laws, and property registration requirements. Foreign investors buying in freehold zones have the added benefit of applying for a Qatar residence permit, enhancing the attractiveness of their investment.

Market Trends: Keeping an eye on market trends and fluctuations is crucial. Qatar’s rental market can be influenced by factors such as the influx of expatriates, changes in government policies, and major events. Conducting thorough market research can help investors make informed decisions about when to buy, sell, or lease their properties.

Conclusion

Qatar's real estate market presents a wealth of investment opportunities, particularly in rental properties. The country's dynamic economy, growing expat community, and government incentives for foreign property ownership make it an attractive market for investors seeking to diversify their portfolios. Whether investing in high-end apartments for short-term rental in Doha or luxury villas for long-term tenants, the potential for steady income and capital appreciation is significant.

However, successful investment in Qatar's rental market requires careful planning, knowledge of the local regulations, and strategic property management. By understanding market dynamics and choosing the right properties in prime locations, investors can take advantage of the robust demand for rental housing in Qatar and secure profitable returns for years to come.

#Qatar residence permit #shop for rent in doha #short term rental Doha #real estate companies in qatar

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greenleafservices · 11 months ago

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service apartment in vasant vihar Delhi

Looking for the best service apartment in Delhi? Look no further! Green Leaf Service Apartments offers top-notch accommodations . Whether you're in town for business or leisure, our friendly staff guarantees a memorable stay. . Located in a bustling area like Lajpat Nagar, residents can enjoy proximity to shopping centers, restaurants, and easy access to transportation hubs, making it convenient for both short-term and long-term stays. Enjoy the perfect blend of luxury and affordability with our range of 1 BHK, 2 BHK, and 3 BHK apartments tailored to meet your needs. Don't hesitate—call Green Leaf Apartments now to book your stay at 8383915342.

#best service apartment in delhi #Looking for the best service apartment in lajpat nagar Delhi? Look no further! Green Leaf Service Apartments offers top-notch accommodation #our friendly staff guarantees a memorable stay. . Located in a bustling area like Lajpat Nagar #residents can enjoy proximity to shopping centers #restaurants #and easy access to transportation hubs #making it convenient for both short-term and long-term stays. Enjoy the perfect blend of luxury and affordability with our range of 1 BHK #2 BHK #and 3 BHK apartments tailored to meet your needs. Don't hesitate—call Green Leaf Apartments now to book your stay at 8383915342.

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thyfl3shconsumed · 1 year ago

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Happy Pride! Woke up to find that tumblr termed another TS woman without telling her (me) why!

For the past few months, Tumblr has been the source for the majority of my income through people sharing my leatherwork, and uhh pretty stressful to have that taken away.

I have so much I'd like to say on the ways TS women in particular are treated disposably, but I'll keep this short and say it would mean a lot both like emotionally and like materially if u shared this post so I could regain my friends and audience

My leather can be found at Pansy-Leatherwork.com. My entire shop is run on sliding scale, and I do my best to price things accessibly for the people I'm actually in community with

#butch #leather #leatherdyke #dyke #t4t #trans #trans woman #butch4femme #butch4butch

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syluses · 8 days ago

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thinking of sylus comforting his wife reader!!

content: insecurity, comfort, fluff, soft sylus, slight possessiveness, suggestive content

sidenote: whaaaaat a fluffy drabble?? ( ᵒ̴̶̷̤◦ᵒ̴̶̷̤ ) yes ignore me yall it’s just about that time of the month u feel me 😞 taking preemptive measures to cope with pms which means writing small comfy lads drabbles :] dunno if anybody will fw this cuz it’s purely self indulgent LOL but yeah ♡ short n sweet (1.7k 🌝)

You haven’t left the full-body mirror for several minutes, now.

No, see- there’s just something about your reflection that’s keeping you rooted in place there.

Sylus has slipped in and out of the bedroom as he gathers his things to go, his black card the last accessory needed for the evening out- tucked safely in his pocket- but now, he settles into a lazy lean against the doorway.

Watching.

There’s a slight notch in his brow as he stands there, arms folded, and lets out a forbearing sigh.

“Sweetie: You look nothing short of captivating. You’re breathtaking,” he arches an inquisitive brow, “You know that.”

Wide-eyed, held prisoner by your own portrait staring back at you— no. You don’t.

You don’t know that, and fuck if that doesn’t gut him a little on the inside, but for all the efforts he’s made to remind you of your beauty (though, that’s putting it in gentler terms; he’s inculcated you, really. Drilled it in (and in more ways than one)), your insecurities are very much built with the intent to last.

Throughout much of your relationship, they have.

Sometimes they’re a quieter thing, manageable. Other times, they stick their foot in between you both and rear their despotic heads, bent on tearing you down- and if he’s left as ruin as well in the fallout, they don’t even care.

Those wheedling, rotten voices make compelling arguments sometimes, but they eventually lose out to the greater thing: your love for Sylus, and his for you.

…That’s not to say that the battle isn’t ever close, though...

Now is one of those times where it’s advancing on you, and fast.

Right now, stuffed in your glittering, cocktail dress, with its slip in the thigh and its low-cut cleavage a hair’s width from scandalous— it’s meant to be elegant, but you feel like a fool.

A whore, even. A cheap, low-end girl insinuating herself into a space where she doesn’t belong- a world full of class and finery you were truthfully never tailored for. You’re like a bull in a china shop or a sore thumb.

Your breasts are snug, your curves are embraced by the silk, and the makeup you’d spent over an hour perfecting- your done-up hair, too- is impressive even to the most critical part of your brain.

But still, your body- it’s….

Sylus, now propping off the doorframe, eyes tracking your every expression all the while, moves to slide up behind you when your gaze flutters to the floor no different than ash and remains there. Your chest heaving with the beginnings of a mini breakdown.

Whatever it is, whatever you are— you can’t bear to look. You don’t want to. You- You won’t.

You aren’t his graceful, sophisticated trophy wife- or even half the effortlessly beautiful model you’d seen depicted in the centerfold Sylus saw you originally fawning over, the one that spurred this rash purchase on in the first place- no, what you are is ridiculous.

Your glossy eyes flit up again.

It’s all awful. But like a bad car crash, you just can’t find it in you to really look away.

He brushes aside your hair with a lithe, broad hand, exposing your neck looped with fine gold and diamond (nothing you’re deserving of, either), and stoops down to kiss your shoulder. The ruby red eyes pinned to your crestfallen face never stray far from it though, even as you close your palm over the back of his while he clasps your waist, crooning in your ear with a heavy breath.

“Kitten, what’s troubling you?”

Like he doesn’t know.

“Everything,” you shake out, tears pricking at your lashline. All that keeps you from bursting out into waterworks like a child right this very moment is the knowing that your meticulously-applied mascara will wash down your cheeks in black rivulets, effectively ruining your foundation and eyeshadow in their paths.

“E-Everything’s troubling- just look at me.”

“I am looking at you,” he hums gently, breath warm agaisnt your skin where his chin is perched on you. “And I promise you, Sweetie, I’m not seeing the same thing that you are. Tell me,” he murmurs, pasting down another chaste, lingering kiss- to the exposed nape of your neck this time- for good measure, “Do I have any reason to lie to you?”

A muscle in your cheek jumps. Your lashes flutter down. “N-No…”

“You know,” he murmurs. “Loving you’s easier than you think.”

Hesitantly, you twine your little fingers around Sylus’s forearm, his wristwatch catching a blocky highlight from the dim, flax sheen of the light fixture behind you.

“You’re gorgeous. How perfect you are—“ he mumbles at your ear, voice low and velvety as ever, composed. And yet the undertone of desperation is there; woven like fine threads throughout- it’s like a broadcasting of his eagerness. “That’s all I can see,” he breathes. “But I want you to say it, though. What do you see?”

Your answer comes quick: the first of a few others of its kind. “A whore.”

In the full-body mirror, his brow quirks in subtle, slow motion. His lips draw back from the smooth column of your dazzling neck. “What?”

A whore? …That much is new to him.

“And I feel stupid- I… I feel gross in this dress. They’d think I’m some concubine hanging off your shoulder-“ the frantically spewed words and the growing tremble in your voice is the mark of a ramble, and yet you cut yourself short. Swallowing it down as you dip your head, eyes screwing shut.

He’d preach a whole sermon if he could for all the faith he has in you. Your self-consciousness and those silly, yet disastrous little things you hold near and dear to your heart— that dictate your life while you sit back and watch— would be dismantled as soon as he got behind the podium.

…But you just don’t hear a word he says, do you? You don’t hear to begin with.

Yes- Sylus has long understood that it’s not always as easy as that. That words can fall short. He’s always considered himself a man of action, but sometimes even then it’s hard to get through to you when you shyly evade his touch and weasel out of his arms before they can even wrap around you.

Stubborn woman.

Obstinate woman.

Make him break his neck while sticking it out for you, woman.

But oh he’d lift his hand to do anything for you, woman.

The day will come where he’s made you see it.

“Concubine,” he scoffs, laughing dryly. You don’t hear that often from him, that level of bitterness, but it’s there in bounds when he huffs in your ear and turns you around to look at him, lifting your jaw up in one graceful motion.

“Let me clear this up for you, Sweetie. When people see you, their first thought they have is not that you’re some… gaudy sidepiece. The opposite. And if there’s any lingering doubts in their mind,” he explains smoothly, taking your hand in his to kiss the back of it, holding your uncertain stare all the while. “This ring puts them all to rest.”

Scarlet pools ripple with warmth, an almost playful edge to them as he attempts to lighten your mood- but you don’t quite miss the flash of woundedness that passes through.

“Besides…”

Adoration, reverence, the resolve to make you understand these truths (that you’re beautiful; pure in his sight)- a little bit of exasperation and a little bit of vulnerability— they blur together on him like winded vanes of a pinwheel. Too fast to color, too fast to catalogue.

But evidently not fast enough to pass you by completely. And so as your heart squeezes painfully in your chest—

“Does your husband’s opinion not matter to you the most?”

You bluster, “It does,” doing your damage-control as you wrap your arm around his neck and pull him impossibly closer, a hand on his jaw to cradle it reassuringly. The flutter of something so briefly small in his eyes hauls you into reality, grounds you.

“It’s all I care about, Sylus,” you implore, “But don’t you understand that if they think poorly of me, it’ll just tie back to you in their heads? They’ll think lower of you if your wife isn’t—“

“Isn’t what?” He snips back, but leans into your touch.

You fall silent.

Eyes fiery, they search yours, his breath warm and minty against your parted, floundering lips. “What they want? Well, kitten, let me be perfectly honest with you,” he chuckles lowly, tone scraping the bottom of something undeniably possessive, “I don’t want any of them to want you…. It’s pretty reasonable that the idea of somebody craving what’s mine would upset me, no?”

Not providing him with an answer- frankly unable to- he again fills the space where you can’t.

“But I like you in this dress,” he states, gaze dropping down to rake over you in a few strained breaths. Your wine lipstick. Your décolletage and the jewels draped there, blinding, hanging over the valley of your breast.

…A hickey you did a half decent job at covering, he smugly supposes.

“Much more than like, even. So if they stare, what does it matter? Let them. Like I said,… they won’t be thinking anything poor of you-“ he offers a small, blithe chuckle, “the worst will be a jealous woman or two. Nothing worthy of ruining our night out, however.”

You take a moment to ponder all of his words. Not just this evening’s- but the countless that came before, too.

You weigh your options— stubbornly continue on in your self-sabotaging ways, thoroughly exhausting yourself and Sylus out in the process; or caving to his reassurances and choosing to believe them— and then weigh your eyes shut.

Slumping into his broad chest to let him hold you, you stand against the miniature insurrection happening inside you and go for the latter.

“You really don’t mind?”

A warm hand smooths down your back; the other, petting your hair in a featherlight hover to not ruin its style, pauses for a second. “Mind what?”

You huff. “You know. Me in this dress.” Earning a longsuffering sigh on his end.

“Why do you doubt yourself? I told you. You look breathtaking in it. You act like it’s such a problematic thing, Kitten, but I only know of one person who will want to have a word with you about it…”

��O-Oh yeah? Who?”

When your husband pulls back some just to stare at you, your hands resting on either of his broad shoulders as your heart hiccups in your chest, all that keeps you from erupting in another small bout of panic and dread is the daring little quirk of his brow— the barest of grins tugging at one end of his cupid-bow lips.

As an answer, he dips his head in and angles it just so to graze his mouth over yours, the tip of his bumped nose poking your cheek as he moors you to him by the small of your back and taunts,

“Perhaps you’ll just have to find out for yourself tonight, hm?”

Something’s in his pocket, you realize as he embraces you— semi-hard, just a little insistent against your tummy— and no, it is not his credit card.

#love and deepspace #lads x reader #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus #sylus lads #love and deepspace x reader #sylus smut #sylus x you #sylus qin #sylus x mc #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds #l&ds #syluses #a lil drabble cuz i’m crazy #my glorious king sylus

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luna-azzurra · 2 months ago

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Romance List Prompts

Forced Proximity “Oops, There’s Only One Bed” & Other Nightmares (aka: trapped together, forced to talk, and now I’m noticing your eyelashes??)

✧ They hate each other. Of course they do. But now they’re snowed in at the same remote cabin. One bed. No signal. Nowhere to run from each other or their feelings. ✧ They barely know each other, just enough to be annoyed in passing. Then they get stuck between floors, in the dark, and suddenly all the things they don’t say become impossible to ignore. ✧ They agree to a long-haul drive for mutual convenience. Cue broken-down car, sketchy motel, and sharing snacks like it’s an act of war. By night two, they’re sleeping back-to-back and trying not to notice how quiet it gets when the other person isn’t talking. ✧ They’re both responsible for watching someone else's pet/kid/home. They bicker like divorced parents. They bond over chaos. And somewhere between late-night takeout and arguing over dishes, they accidentally become something like a couple.

Forbidden Romance “We Shouldn’t, But God We Want To” (aka: slow burn with a side of inner turmoil)

✧ They were raised to hate each other. But then they meet, outside the context, outside the war, and start to realize they’re not what they were taught. And it wrecks them both. ✧ They’re assigned to protect someone who is completely off limits. Flirting is forbidden. Feelings are dangerous. And yet? Every glance feels like a confession they can’t afford to say out loud. ✧ Teacher/Instructor x Student, but make it ethical and age-appropriate. It’s a short-term class, a writing retreat, a combat training course. The power dynamic is there, but so is the connection. They try to keep it professional. They fail. Beautifully. ✧ Best Friend’s Sibling... They’re off limits. Point blank. But the tension? The tension is screaming. Especially when the best friend keeps leaving them alone together, completely unaware.

Grumpy x Sunshine “Why Are You Like This?” (aka: emotionally constipated x aggressively full of feelings)

✧ Roommates from Opposite Vibes... One’s all color-coded calendars and 7AM smoothies. The other hasn’t done laundry in three weeks and growls before coffee. They clash. But one rainy day, the sunshine one leaves soup on the grump’s desk with a dumb little smiley note. It breaks them. ✧ Coffee Shop Owner x Frequent Customer... Grump runs the quiet, broody café. Sunshine comes in every morning with messy hair and too much enthusiasm. The barista rolls their eyes, but they always remember their order. Always. ✧ Hired for the Same Job. Grump is practical. Sunshine is chaotic. They’re forced to collaborate. The tension is delicious. Especially when the sunshine one starts to get under the grump’s skin and into their heart. ✧ They're on a team. The world is ending. The sunshine one makes jokes to stay sane. The grump one acts like they don’t care, until the sunshine one gets hurt. Then suddenly they’re soft, scared, and furious about it.

Extra Angst & Emotional Damage For the Writers Who Like to Hurt (and Heal)

✧ “You Remembered?” They thought the other didn’t care. They’re used to being forgotten. But then, in the quiet, the other person says something, something small, something specific, and it hits like a train. ✧ “I Would’ve Picked You Every Time” They lost each other once. Circumstances. Timing. Fear. Years later, they meet again. And this time? This time the truth comes out. And it’s raw, and ugly, and healing. ✧ “Don’t Look at Me Like That” They’re breaking. Mid-fight. Mid-confession. One of them cracks and says the thing they swore they wouldn’t say. The other just looks at them soft, wide-eyed and it’s too much. ✧ “I Never Stopped Loving You” Classic. Heart-shattering. Should only be used when you want your readers to cry at 2AM while whispering “why did you do this to me”.

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littlestpersimmon · 11 months ago

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Hi guys. Am sick rn, but had wanted to post this before I go and sleep.

Some of you may already know that patreon sent out an update that charges anyone using ios to subscribe to artist's patreons 30% more.

I immediately feel this impact mere hours later, and now, days later. I'm hemorrhaging patrons & have less income. It would mean the while world to me if you guys could please reblog this.

If you use the desktop version or the android app? you will not have to pay 30% more. Needless to say this decision of apple has completely fucked me over months and months to come, unless I somehow make up for my loss by other means.

My patreon is only a dollar a month!

I have around 400 exclusive artwork on it :)

I am working on uploading more art there, and more comics once I am done with my current contract as a comic artist.

I am currently partially homeless- so being alive in general is hard ;y; I wanted to focus more of my work on patreon, until this update- I only have one tier.

I am working as hard as I can, every month ♡ I am also the caretaker of three disabled people- as my dad, who used to do all the housework, is now too sick with a swollen liver that could possibly be connected to his heart problems, and my mama who has limited movement- she "died" of sepsis many years ago after giving birth to my sister, and was revived with nerve damage. I don't know the medical terms, but she was brain dead for however long, and was successfully brought back in a different hospital. She was comatose for months; this event has lead to my family losing everything in hospital bills, our car, our house (literally we became homeless) ah. But long story short, I am the only person in my family who works- as my sister is a teenager, and she is autistic with a very, very low frustration threshold, as she is also a picky eater and still going to school! I'm sorry, many of my followers already know this story by now, I have already doxxed myself multiple times trying to avert crisis after crisis, ahaha. But yes. Patreon added to my cart of Sorrows, and would love to have more folks who aren't using apple, or are using android and the web to come on over and maybe enjoy some of my private art up there. I post around 3-6 art a month, if I am lucky 7. I want to keep making art, and my patreon was what was giving me a semblance of stability until that silly update. Sorry for the long post, and I appreciate everyone helping, reblogging, saying kind words to me, praying for me. G-d bless you all, and stay safe

My patreon:

Direct tipping jar:

My print shop!

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cursedcola · 6 months ago

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Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle (Here) | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits You Steal:

Bargaining (Inherited AND Developed): No partner of Azul's is a shmuck. Not because of his standards (a little bit), but because you will learn to negotiate through trial and error. Being his pearl does not exclude you from daily verbal tango. He can and will still come after Ramshackle if given the opportunity. What? Just come stay in Octavinelle. He won't even charge for it, and you can bring Grim. He is always three steps ahead. Buying him a present is like the world's most daunting task, because he somehow already knows what's inside the box. Every. Time. Even if you shop a year in advance. Don't even start with arguments. He has a rebuttal for EVERYTHING. There is never a winner, only a settlement because he is so stubborn (and you equally so. Pride is contagious). As adults you're constantly exposed to business deals and sometimes have to deal with handling negotiations. Not to mention people with grudges against Azul attempting to shmooze their way through you. Only to find that you are just as manipulative.

"Pearl, Jade says that our deal with the Bas triplets for the next semester has been renewed? I hadn't scheduled their extension meeting until the first Saturday of next month. Would you have anything to say on this?" <- Long story short, the triplets tracked you down to beg for help in getting out of their work contract with Azul. He was always fair, and they entered willingly. No corruption on his part...but they were hell bent on not working in the kitchens with Floyd anymore. Solution? You managed to shmooze an extra week on their terms, in exchange for not being put on Floyd's shift anymore. Azul is so proud - but don't do that again. You're the one telling Floyd he doesn't get to play 'spot the difference' with the triplets anymore. Not him.

Smell Sensitivity (Developed): Nothing shanks the nostrils like sea brine. No pun intended. Lingering around Octavinelle equates to constantly smelling fish. Most students there come from the coral sea and don't mind it. Others only stop in for a quick bite to eat, and don't stay a moment more. The Mostro Lounge just has a potent smell that can't be found anywhere else. Like McDonald's french fries...but fish. Grim loves it, you now get nauseated when a scented candle is lit.

"Must you pinch your nose? Think of my- Octavinelle's reputation for a moment" <- Azul is brewing a scent masking potion as we speak. You're really hitting his pride here, even if you can't help it.

Glasses Wipes (Developed): Octopunk heats up when you so much as touch him in public. Then his glasses get foggy. If you wear makeup, its smears on his skin (to which he acts unbothered, but we all know it's a ruse). He obviously carries a hankey but having some wipes on hand is a nice gesture. Unnecessary, but sweet-ish.

Refined Pallet (Inherited): The cup ramen and foraged greens just do not cut it anymore. Not when Azul's made a VIP menu over at the lounge just for you. Sure, the place has a variety of options but he'll always get Floyd to cook up whatever you're in the mood for. At a discount (since Grim can eat him out of pocket). Have you ever had 100% dark, sea-salt chocolate imported from the coral sea? Ever tasted it in a rich devil's cake, baked fresh with only the best ingredients? Betty Crocker, who???

"I must say, your diet could still use some work - do not look at me that way. The twins found your hidden stash of instant noodles during our 'occupation' at Ramshackle. Under the stairs, pearl? Really? When was the last time your sodium was checked?"

Aversion to Sea Food (Developed): You will never understand how the Coral Sea students are okay with the Mostro Lounge. Neither what was running through Azul's head when he decided to open a SEA FOOD restaurant. Honestly? Red flag. One you ignored, but still a red flag. The existence of merpeople and therianthropes is still new and novel to you. To each their own, but you can't eat any sea creatures knowing that it could be - no, it can't be? Floyd's always joking that Azul is tasty but...it's just a joke, right?

"As much as Floyd loves to special make your chicken strips with wedges...why do you never order from the public menu? I assure you, Mostro Lounge is supplied with only the highest quality - h-huh? What crazy thoughts are you having?! Honestly!" <- This explains so much. He always thought you stared at the food with envy, because Grim would eat your pocket out and leave you to sip on lemon water. He had to force the special 'vip' meals down your throat at the start. is this why you're so uncomfortable having lunch with Floyd and his weekly Takoyaki binge?

Appraisal (Developed): Ever see those shows where a professional goes around to antique markets, and can point out forgeries, fake gems, etc. by eye? That is Azul. He's a collector of gadgets and gizmos aplenty - anyway. Strolls through antique marts, coin collecting showcases, and other marketing events will undoubtably train the eye over time. No scammer will ever shmooze ya out of house and home. Sorry Sam.

Habits He Steals:

Jacket (Developed): Mermen run cold. The uniform blazer Azul dons is more-so just for show than anything. Clothes are overall a novel concept, since most in the coral sea dress minimalistic (or not at all). The lounge runs quite chilly as well. Not enough to deter customers, but the perfect temperature to get uncomfortable after a few hours. Now Azul has many jealous bones in his body, and would rather drop dead than see one of the leech twins loan out their blazer so you can nap in the back room (they're doing it on purpose). Azul often offers his coat out to you the moment you walk inside - so often, that all the part-time workers know if you're on lot if he's walking without it.

"I need my jacket back, please. Why? N-no particular reason. Do I need an excuse to wear my own clothes?" <- Ruggie - Mostro Lounge's most reliable and simultaneously difficult part timer, mind you - was the first to pick up the correlation. If the VIP lounge was shut, and Azul was out doing quality rounds? It meant you were in the back, and he was in a better mood. The perfect time to sneak a platter unnoticed. Azul must take precautions.

Snitches Get Stitches (Developed): ONE perk of living with ghosts. Honey you get ALL the tea on campus. You just need to butter them up with a game of pranks and it’s ripe for the taking. Now, who do you think is going to make full use of this? Azul. They won’t give it to him directly because it’s more fun to make him frustrated. Which means he has to go through you. *Which means* he gets very crafty in buttering you up for details.

Midnight Hour (Developed): This mainly applies to his adult years. Wherever he goes - business or otherwise - you come with more often than not. As a youth his dealings were important - yes. Yet he was still getting his swimming legs in business and his primary demographic was students. Contrary to his pride, Azul wasn't someone important. Someone actually worth targeting like the Briar Prince. The real world is much more risky. You can help with negotiations and running facilities. You might 'think' he is tossing you into the end zone with all his ambitions...but no. Any dealings with high-stake confrontations are handled only after midnight.

"Two-o-clock in the am hours. That is the latest I can offer - well, it seems we've reached an impasse. This deal clearly is not worth my effort, if such 'accommodations' are beyond your capabilities. Allow one of my partners to escort you off the premises." <- Let's make one thing clear. No contract is ever worth putting you at risk. One twin (usually Jade) will remain at his side, the other (Floyd...because he's honestly not the best for negotiations. More guard dog material, and has fun hanging out with you) back with at the house/hotel. Azul doesn't trust 'anyone', and the Leech family is obviously in business with him. He takes no chances, screw probability, and can't kill the inner control-nerd in him. He's never out past three-am and would rather you feel a bit left out then dead somewhere in the Stillwater.

Land Legs (Developed): Considering he will be on land more for the foreseeable future, Azul puts more effort to building his land legs. Not that he wasn't trying before, but there wasn't any guarantee that he'd be working the land beyond NRC. So with the reassurance that 'something' (someone) will require his attention on shore, he decides to invest the effort. Azul will not get on one of those flying deathtraps past academy years though. He's getting a license and pulling up in a new Bugatti.

Pictures (Inherited): Much to Azul's chagrin, you love photos. Maybe it's because you have little to recall from your own world. Maybe it's because you're in the photography club. Maybe it's because you love his misery - but you are always taking photos. At first he insisted that you never get him in the frame. He hates them. Still does, do not misunderstand...and the idea of someone having so many with him included eats him up. Yet his insistent denials do lessen, and he tolerates them. You cannot post them anywhere. Yet...he will only 'mildly' grimace when looking at them around your house. Only because who the heck is coming over that he hasn't approved of?

"This picture? Ah...that is my dear pearl. They are breathtaking, are they not? I truly am the most fortunate man alive. Ah. My apologies, let's return to discussing the contract terms. May I see your completed punch-card?" <- And because you're in them too. As a youth, he kept your photo on his desk in the lounge. Sometimes a client would ask about you, and he'd lapse for a moment before folding the frame down and out of their view. He'd tuck it away whenever you came around, but would talk to it when alone. About his day, his work, whatever first year came crying because Floyd used them as a dart board - and dare I say that he'd keep a family photo in your later years together. Azul hates pictures of himself, but not as much as he loves ones of you. Look at him. Big softie.

—

"Of course. I have remarkable potential as an instructor, do I not? Is it not a great fortune to have me as one's partner? Take this as a lesson that your boss can influence even the most lost souls." == Azul shows no reservation. The moment he caught two part-timers gossiping about your 'conversion' to the 'dark side'. Why, he was positively beaming. His grin wide with a touch of something sinister. Gossip is fine, but they should know better than to do so in his den. Anything noteworthy would undoubtably reach his ears with time, but oh was it a joy to watch them squirm. Honestly. They're fortunate that he's in such a good mood - what was intended to be slandering has just made his day. They're still getting put on shift with Floyd though. He's merciful, yet no martyr.

Habits you steal:

Foraging (Inherited): You are always looking around for plants to propagandize. It's like stealing but not - because Crowley doesn't have any 'rules' about it so...heh. Free food. Jade's a living encyclopedia when it comes to botany and agriculture. He's the whole reason you've got a mini apothecary going in the kitchen and that instant-noodle stash got amped up in flavor. What? you ever add some fresh mushrooms and green onions to that instant chicken yakisoba? Mwah. The mountain lover's club needs to look out, 'cause the Ramshackle Prefect is about to bleed campus dry for every last specimen.

Yapping (Developed): Spinning off the above 'route'. Many people think Floyd's the talkative twin. Nah. This motherf*cker does NOT shut up. He treats you like his second conscience, asking questions he doesn't expect to be answered and giving commentary like your own personal narrator. Who needs thoughts when he literally says everything before you can think it? Floyd salutes you - 'cause finally. Finally, it isn't him subjected to Jade's inner spiels. Sorry Shrimpy, you are a sacrifice he's willing to make. If you ever break up or fight with Jade - Floyd's going to hunt you down - he can never go back. Never.

On a side note, you're an excellent listener now.

Tea (Inherited): Do you hate tea? No you don't. Not Jade's tea. There isn't much to comment on here, other than you will develop a taste for his Atlantic Twice-Seeped Water-Lily brew. You'll be craving it every night if ever sent back to our world (as if that'll happen). Mixed with honey from the Afterglow Savannah and served in a baby-blue ceramic cup that has a shimmer handle. That's your mug, by the way. He has other brews...some improvised and caution is indeed extended. They're tasty for the most part though.

“Ah, just smell that aroma. I developed this blend made just for you, my dear. I’m not one to seek out sweet floral notes for my tea, yet this flavor is an acquired taste that pulls you in for more. I finish the cup without realizing each time” -> Jade can be sweet himself, when he wants to be.

Wearing gloves (Developed): Jade makes you touch weird shit. All the time. Unprompted. He also makes you eat weird shit, but more often than not you can escape by shoveling his experiments onto someone he can get a more interesting reaction out of. Classically condition him not to feed you the weird shit by being unresponsive - off topic. Point is that with his obscene collection of terrariums? Plus being pulled along for foraging quests? You will be touching unknown and possibly poisonous plants, bugs, dirt, maybe some aquatic creatures like toads and fish. For all that is good, keep a pack of rubber gloves in your schoolbag. Keep a pair of insulated leather gloves in your breast pocket at all times too. Hand Sanitizer as well. Who knows when you’ll be elbow deep in murky water riddled with mysterious rainbow moss. What makes it rainbow? You don’t know and Jade won’t say. He does quip that it changes colors with emotions. Screw Twisted Wonderland and it’s freakish botany.

“Oh my, would you look at that vibrant shade of purple. Why are you so frightened? These are meant to be happy ‘bonding’ times for us as a couple, isn’t that what you said? Fufu - oh. Hurry up and put it in this jar. You’ll ruin the sample at this pace,” <- In truth, Jade saw red blooming at the edges of the moss and called quits before your nerves turned to anger. Fear? Amusing. Especially since you have more harmful ‘house plants’ growing on the mantle back at your dorm. Curtesy of Jade himself, of course. Azul doesn’t let him store his more precarious collection in Octavinelle and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. Yet he won’t push the jokes too far, since so few ever come out foraging with him. No no. He needs you to continue as a willing participant. Don’t get angry at him just yet, there are still so many places to explore and the day is young!

Doppelgänger Paranoia (Developed): The Leech twins tried to pull that shit where they swapped places for a day. Therefore you are now freakishly paranoid of Floyd trying to take Jade’s place to pull a prank. It is no help that Floyd is insanely good at mimicking his brother and vice versa. Sure, you could make a keyword or ask Jade to wear something special as a give away. Mark him. Maybe make an excuse of it being a thing human couples do and stick a pin on his lapel. Yet there isn’t a guarantee that he won’t just let Floyd in on it to see what happens. He’s a jerk like that, but your jerk nonetheless.

“Your caution is entertaining, and I do find all this extra attention flattering. Yet there are more taxing worries to mull over, wouldn’t you agree? Surely I’ve earned enough trust to circumvent any doubts in that mind of yours?” -> Do you know that the twin-swap was just a one time trick? Probably not. Doing it again would be boring with no novel results, but Jade does love watching you squirm with suspicion. He’ll offer an assurance eventually, and it will be your call to believe him or not. Until then? He has no problem being under your watchful eye. It’s quite cute, after all.

Habits he steals:

Grammar Control (Developed): Purely to piss you off. Coming from another world - your dialect isn't exactly the same as everyone in Twisted Wonderland. There are region specific languages, and then there is the common tongue. For simplicities sake, let's just say that everyone in TWST can speak common tongue and transferring over gave you this ability. Except (like Epel) you carry a heavy accent - and Jade loves to play grammar police. Your irritation never ceases to amuse him. That's right. He's the train kid from the 'Polar Express'. Just less nasal.

“Let’s try to capture that illusive letter ‘R’, shall we? You don’t want to give onlookers any more ammunition as a respectable prefect.”-> Says the only person using this as ammunition, except for Ace when he gets really snappy and Riddle’s mild cringe when your accent butchers a toast at the Unbirthday party. At this point you’re hearing ‘red leather, yellow leather’ and ‘mark went on a lark after dark’ in your sleep.

Routes (Developed): Another one with the need to have a bit of control. Just a bit. Get ready to roll out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn, because he will be there at five-am sharp to haul you back to Octavinelle (or on a hike. Saturday's only). Isn't it a human custom to stick close to your partner? He's just making sure you're cared for. Which is why you exist attached to his hip most days

Symbiosis 1 (Developed): Only a mild-note for Jade. His brother, noted below, takes this concept more to heart. Jade uses it as an enhancing factor to an already “well-rounded” relationship. The law of the sea dictates that those stronger will enter a ‘pact’ with weaker creatures - protection in exchange for care. You are not in need of protection with that frosh posse and stubborn head of yours. Jade mostly uses this ‘symbiotic relationship’ as a way to get you to do things for him, and to talk down your impulsive behaviors from time to time. Aka you won’t create excessive trouble if it means he feels ‘bound’ to go with (as if he wouldn’t be overjoyed to get in some chaos)

Observation (Developed?): Jade...knows everything about you. It's infuriating (to you, not him), but you are still a potential client regardless of his personal interest. Hobbies, tastes, your worst and best subject, weaknesses -all categorized. Azul and his business come first. Yet you're the only student on campus that has a 'doctored' file. Why?

“I never realized you are adverse to crowds. Yet you handle navigating Night Raven with no difficulties? Is this a mere preference, or would you prefer to find somewhere quiet while I accompany the others? What do you need?” -> (During Playful Land Event) He can't get the finer details without asking questions. There is no source for information about your world or your person other than your word of mouth. His unique magic would be easy - but it's just one question. One, and you might be too resilient for a response. Where's the fun? What makes this a habit is that Jade's keen eye becomes sharper.

Ramshackle (Developed): Bro just moved in. I’m serious. He got permission by pulling a favor. Azul doesn’t let him keep the more precarious plants in Octavinelle, so Jade has overtaken the kitchen with potted flora and fungi. Floyd is enthusiastic that he doesn't have to share a room - what? Twins don't always stick together. Those two probably fight more than they get along. Plus with Jade at Ramshackle it's an excuse to go see what's up with Shrimpy and maybe play with torture the little freshies you hang around with. It’s chapter three but you aren't booted out and have to deal with both Leeches every day. Seven preserve you.

—

“I let my excitement get the better of me for a moment…please, continue as if I am not here. My apologies.” == How rare for Jade’s mask to slip in front of his underclassmen. He was able to brush it off - giving a fib about his clubs upcoming excursion (not entirely untrue. He is excited to go for a hike with you this weekend). Yet the normally dull gossip of his dorm-mates was too much to bare. Not because your changes are becoming more pronounced, but because these little fish are foolish enough to think it’s making him soft. Enough to gossip so blatantly in his earshot? Gods, they make his job much too easy.

Habits you steal:

Leering (Inherited): Floyd...oh dear. He has this habit of staring holes into the back of your head. Anyone's head, really. His presence is intimidating, and it's hard not to pick up what’s going on in his head. There's a catch to this though. You only leer at other people when he isn't around. Too busy with the man in question to bother 'people-watching' (unless you're actually pissed). Riddle is constantly on edge now because he has TWO people giving him the heebee-jeebies. Prefect, it was bad enough you were taking influence from ADeuce. Now the Leech brothers? Well, he'd still take you over Floyd any day. At least you won't try to act on that unsettling aura...yet.

“Somethin’ on my face?…why’re you staring at me like that? Unless you want my attention? Hehe, ya shoulda just said so!” <- Floyd can do it to you, but you can’t to him. Not unless you want to be suplexed and squished tightly for hours on end.

Impulse actions (Inherited): Chaotic energy anyone? Floyd needs a partner who is one of two things - can kick his ass on occasion so he'll play nice, or who will match his freak. Since matching the strength of a Moray Eel isn't something most humans can do? Well, maybe a bitch slap here or there but be aware he is letting it happen. Just know. Better be playful too, not no actual challenge. Point being- you need to match his freak. No buzz-kills.

“Ne Ne~ Yanno, I’ve never seen those super fancy fireworks you land people like to set off. Wanna go get some and rig the - eh? You already got them?….Hahaha Shrimpy’s getting gutsy. I’m so happy” -> His eyes are practically glowing with anticipation. You’re now Azul's third headache 1000%, someone get that man an Asprin.

Snacks (Developed): Floyd can EAT. The only one with a stronger appetite is Jade, but he has a better control over his hunger. While their bodies changed to look human, their appetites did not decrease. Going with ‘symbiosis,’ Floyd gets a bit needy and talks like you’re his internal clock. Jade’s the yapper but Floyd just expects you to know what he needs. So you will always be carrying a selection of snacks (Grim gets in on this) in your bag/purse. Also fidget toys. Not for eating, but to give him when you’re stuck anywhere particularly boring. Props if you can somehow get a two-in-one with the twisted wonderland equivalent of those Air Heads Pull-Aparts.

Lullaby and Goodnight (Developed) : Instant calming effect. Merfolk are very particular with music and are sensitive to vocals. Floyd in particular is super picky. You could be the worst singer on the planet (Floyd will give you half-assed lip for it if you are, in all fairness) but the easiest way to calm him down is with music. It’s cringey and unrealistic to us land-folk but there’s plenty of singing in Atlantica. So humming a soft lullaby for him while sitting together won’t earn any looks in Octavinelle. Unless you sound awful, to which he will punt anyone that speaks out. Not that they would, since a calm Floyd is a godsend no matter the means achieved.

“Did I say you could listen in, hah? Sounds to me like someone’s in the mood for ‘my’ kinda song….don’t move, Shrimpy. This’ll be quick.” <- Good or bad - doesn’t matter. Getting to hear you is Floyd’s privilege. He’s a bit possessive of it, to be frank. So if someone butts in when he’s in the middle of calming down, Floyd’s going to be pissed to the max.

The Little Mermaid (Inherited): Drags you down to the sea at every opportunity. Don’t fight him, just guzzle the vomit-inducing potion and get a move on. Floyd doesn’t care how much a mer-transfiguration potion costs, Azul can take care of it. Floyd hates being restrained to dry land, and hey. He’s up here, so it’s only fair you go down into the sea trenches too. Don’t worry, he won’t take you anywhere too dangerous. He’ll even teach you how to get your sea legs - fish legs? Look. He teaches you how to swim in your mer-form, which he is severely disappointed does not resemble a shrimp.

Habits he steals:

Phone Privileges (Developed) : Floyd’s cellphone is normally in DND mode at all times. The only exceptions are Azul and his Momma - Jade was one too up until they came to dry land. There’s only so many mushroom photos and long voicemails about random crap that Floyd can take. Oh - and you’re an exception now. He saves all your voicemails - some for callbacks to win arguments and others to play when he’s about to sleep. You just better be careful when you call him and what for, also always pick up if he calls you. Otherwise there’s going to be one angry eel lurking by your bedroom window. With ‘first-contact’ privileges, all the unflattering candid pics he has of you are just a click away from being shared if he feels like it (teases but wouldn’t do it. Well, unless you really are ignoring him. Be warned)

Using F*cking Doors(Inherited) : Yes. Yes, you read that right. Floyd loves to parkour across campus. The amount of times he’s snuck into Ramshackle through that tiny circle window in the attic is frustrating. You’re seriously considering bolting the thing shut if it keeps him off the roof and on the ground. Y’know, for someone who can’t fly a broom? He sure has no problem climbing brick walls with his bare hands like some kinda cockroach. A Leech cockroach. Jamil’s worst nightmare good god. After the sixth-or-so heart attack, Floyd’s not allowed anywhere near Ramshackle if it’s not through the front door. The ghosts have strict instructions to punt him…to which he took as a challenge (because of course he did). Until a window was smashed, and you sent hellfire down upon him.

“I said it was an’ accident! What more do you want from me, huh? It’s your fault anyway for sicking those ghost fish on me - Urk…fiiine. I’m sorry or whatever” <- Always will back down the moment you come across as genuinely pissed. Usually with a grunt and hiss under his breath, kicking his foot before stalking off to cool down for a bit. Always fixes whatever he broke or tries to make amends once his mood is less sour.

Symbiosis II (Developed): Paired with the above 'match his freak' and second rendition of Jade's. Except Floyd is 100% serious. Floyd's going to do right by you, but you've got to do right by him. People are going to wonder why the small-pint prefect is sitting here covering one of bro's shifts (they feared for your life when you basically told him to 'fuck off', knowing he was angry after getting scolded by Azul) but that's how it is. Floyd's symbiosis is different than Jade's. He's more impulsive, yet also more predictable with what he needs. The definition of "no one can tell me to do shit except my spouse" 'cause symbiosis is a mutual respect and trade. No one can pick on you except for him. No one can help you the way he does. He is not going anywhere. Ever. Bonded for life - that kind of ‘sappy shit’.

"I already said I don't wanna... ughhh, babysitting those frosh fishies is so booooring. Can't we just ask Azul to lock 'em in a tank or somethin'?.... ALRIGHT, Little Shrimpy. I get it already so stop yammering in my ear...." <- Floyd's the softer brother, if you can believe that. Acts of service are what get him and he thrives on being needed. So you'll be doing it a lot to earn that compliance from him. Be the iron fist that gets him to back down, and simultaneously the one slipping him a few party poppers to set off at one of Heartslabyul's tea-parties as a reward.

The ✨Fashion✨ (Developed) : Surface-world fashion is one of Floyd’s special interests. Oddly enough? You’re a perfectly-sized dress up doll. It’s cute how large his shoes are in comparison to your feet. Hah! You look like a clown clobbering around in those things. He 100% gives you a pair of light up sneakers that sparkle when you walk - makes it easier to find you in crowds. Not that he needs to. Mostly it’s just for fun. He’ll even get a matching pair so you don’t feel zeroed out.

VIP Menu (Developed) : Floyd has a ‘secret’ menu over at the Mostro Lounge. He’s the head cook, don’t ya know? Makes real tasty dishes. C’mon, praise him. He’ll add a few dishes just for you since you’re so picky - that’s a bad trait to have for a broke Shrimp by the way. Good thing he’s around to make sure you’re eating.

“Oi! I told ya that was for you. If the lil’ seal’s hungry he can get somethin’ off the menu on his own…unless he’s lookin’ for a squeeze?” <- One major gripe Floyd has with Grim is how he’s always mooching off your plate. It’s fine if Azul’s picky with his food, cause that’s Azul. You’re different ‘cause in Floyd’s mind responsible for you. Again. He takes the symbiosis thing more seriously than Jade, and will poke your cheek relentlessly and comment if it’s lost it’s squish. He always serves you something to eat, even if you don’t order. Doesn’t let anyone else prepare it either.

Protective (Developed) : At the risk of sounding like a broken record, Floyd is very attentive. He’s clingy as hell and always looking for an excuse to have a good tussle - you’re his favorite person to screw with. Yet only himself, Azul, and Jade get the green card to look at you with anything other than respect. Cause he knows they don’t mean it - and even your little freshman buddies don’t get a pass. Maybe the seal since Floyd could squish Grim like a grape and he knows it. Leona’s almost gotten many challenges for the whole ‘herbivore’ thing.

—

“ ‘s nice, right? What’s better than one of me? Two, hah! Jade might have my face but now Shrimpy’s got my personality” == Finds the situation funny for like, an hour? Maybe two? Doesn’t matter because ‘Shrimpy is Shrimpy’ - plain as that, really. He gets more joy out of teasing people when they find out you’re with him. As if Floyd gives two sh*ts what other people think? Nah.

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