#90s male blue eyes

[beautifulfaaces]

Jack Bandeira

Facts

March 29, 1994

English actor

Filmography

Terry [Black Mirror: 2023]

Quill [Lockwood & Co: 2023]

James [After Forever: 2022]

Kenny [The Duke: 2020]

Scott [Holby City: 2017]

Keith [Middleton: 2016]

Appearance

Dark blonde

Blue eyes

Roleplay

Playable: young adult

[marina98s]

[hopesworlld]

౨ৎ i want you to cry, cry for me

౨ৎ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 — jealous!anakin x fem!reader

౨ৎ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 — anakin's jealousy gets the best of him once again and you have no choice but to punish him

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 — 2k

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — swearing, toxic!ani, smut ( sub!ani, degradation, reader calling ani a slut, hair pulling, ani crying for 90% of the fic, cock stepping, nipple play, biting, bondage, begging, dry humping, hand jobs, edging, dacryphilia, oral f receiving, face sitting, cuming untouched, panties as a gag, overstilmulation, face slapping, cock slapping, cum as lube ) holy fuck that's a lot

౨ৎ 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 ! — i never usually write subby male characters so i had some fun with this, hope you enjoy !

part one part two masterlist

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“you are in so much trouble,” you spat the moment you enter your and anakin’s shared apartment, anakin trailed behind you, head cast downwards, “seriously, anakin, i talk to my coworker for two seconds and you come over throwing a hissy fit? try grabbing my ass in front of my boss and his husband?” you growled and anakin whimpered, wrapping his arms around himself, “what do you have to say for yourself?” you demanded. 

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice thick but he refused to look up, eyes remaining fixed on his shoes, a frustrated groan fell from your lips as you walked over to him, grabbing his hair and yanking his head up to face you, his pretty blue eyes were glassy, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto his white shirt, glasses hazy from condensation. he hissed at the sensation of his hair being pulled, lips trembling. 

“i’m so sorry,” you imitated with a scowl and anakin let out a sob, “that’s all you have to say?” you questioned, “god, anakin, you are fucking pathetic,” you tell him, letting go of his hair and storming through the apartment. still, anakin is quick to follow you, stumbling over his own feet as you walk into the living room, tossing your coat and bag down, massaging your temples. 

“no, no,” anakin cried, “please, i mean it, i didn’t want to upset you,” he told you, “i was just, he was so close to you and…” 

“oh my god,” you screamed, whirling around to face him and anakin looked stricken, not expecting your outburst and more sobs came tumbling from his lips, he brought his hands up, wiping away the sticky tear tracks but they were quickly replaced with new ones. “we shook hands, that was it, and you come over acting like a bitch in heat,” you grind out, “do you want to embarrass me in front of everyone? is that your goal, want to make me look stupid with my boyfriend who can’t control his needy cock?” 

“that’s not it!” anakin cried, dropping onto his knees before you and wrapping his arms around your legs, clinging to you desperately, “please, i’ll be good, don’t leave me,” he begged, burying his face into your thigh. 

“you haven’t been a very good boy though have you, ani?” you asked him coldly, “i warned you, and you promised you would stop, why did you lie to me, huh? speak up, angel,” anakin’s head snapped back, eyes wide and lips parted, his tongue darted out wetting his lips as he took a shuddering breath. 

“i… um… i, i didn’t…” words seemed to escape him, his pupils blown wide beneath his glasses, his mouth opened and closed multiple times, only gasps escaping. 

“what got nothing to say now? that’s a shame, baby boy, guess i’m just gonna have to punish you,” you shrugged, leaning down and grasping his shoulders pushing him off of you, anakin hadn’t been expecting this, his body falling backward and colliding with the floor with a thud while you watched in disinterest. “pathetic,” you said with a roll of your eyes before your gaze fell, seeing the bulge in his slacks, a small laugh escaped your lips, “are you hard right now?” you asked him with wide eyes, “are you serious?” you giggled and anakin whined, crimson staining his sticky cheeks. 

“god you are such a slut, getting off on me telling you off,” you said, stepping closer and placing your foot on his chest, holding him in place. 

“didn’t… didn’t mean to,” anakin hiccuped, but he looked up at you with that look in his eyes, so full of desperation and longing.

“what did i say about lying, angel?” you asked him sternly, cocking a sharp brown. 

“no, no, i really didn’t mean it you just look so pretty when you’re angry, and you called me… called me a slut and i, i couldn’t help it,” he babbled head shaking frantically. 

“i forgot you were such a whore for degradation, gets your cock all excited even when you’re in trouble,” you scoffed, “do you think you deserve to cum after how you acted, ani?” you asked him with a raised brow. 

“yes, yes, wanna make you feel good, let me come, let me fuck you,” he begged from where he lay on the floor, you pursed your lips, slowly dragging your foot down anakin’s chest, tracing along the plains of his ab’s before finally reaching his crotch, pressing down lightly on the bulge there, anakin gasped, rocking his hips upwards. 

“stop,” you told him harshly, pressing down harder and anakin cried out. “you fucking like this? you like me stepping on your cock, god, ani,” you said, watching as he writhed beneath you. 

“i’m sorry,” anakin cried out, hands coming up and clutching the carpet, his face was still flushed and tears continued to flow, you decided to have mercy on him, pressing your foot down one more time making him screech before pulling back. 

“get up,” you commanded him, anakin scrambled upwards, stumbling slightly as he rose on shaky legs, almost falling into you but you grabbed his shoulders, “good boy,” you cooed and anakin’s face lit up. “now go into the bedroom and get on the bed,” you told him and he indeed quickly, rushing from the room. you followed him, watching as he kicked his shoes off and tumbled onto the bed. you climbed onto the bed after him, straddling his hips. 

“baby?” anakin whispered. 

“hush, now,” you told him, hands coming up and trailing over his shirt-clad chest, hovering over his nipples and tweaking them slightly, grinning when anakin whimpered. you carried on, pinching harder, rolling the nubs between your fingertips, anakin’s mouth fell agape, his hands coming up to grasp your hips. “did i say you could touch?” you asked him with a raised brow. 

“i… no but i,” you didn’t listen to his excuses, simply shaking your head, moving to untie his tie, unlooping it from around his neck. 

“keep thinking you are gonna be a good boy and then you just don’t listen,” you sighed sadly, “guess you can’t be trusted right now,” you tell him, grabbing his arms and pulling them up so they are above his head, you then loop his tie around them before securing them to the headboard. “that’s better,” you said with a satisfied smile, leaning back on your heels. 

“oh…” anakin said, titling his head to look at his now secured hands, he pulled his arms slightly but they remained in their holding, when he turned back to face you, his pupils were completely blown, you could hardly see his irises beneath the darkness. you then began to unbutton his shirt, leaving it open so that you could see his nipples, they were hard and rosy making you smile, leaning down and captured one between your teeth and bit down, anakin hissed. “fuck, baby, what…” 

“shh,” you crooned as you switched to his other nipple giving it the same treatment before pulling away satisfied. you took your own clothes off, tugging your top over your head and unclasping your bra, then shimmying your skirt down your hips leaving you in only your panties, anakin leaned up, trying to hold you but his arms jolted against the restraints, he looked up at you with large pleading eyes. “you really think that's gonna work on me, angel?” you asked him. 

“just wanna feel you,” he pleaded but you shook your head. 

“you don’t deserve to touch me, been so naughty today, anakin,” you scolded, dragging your hips along his groin, “wanna tell me why?”

“i’m… i,” he tried to say but his voice fell short. 

“tell me,” you pressed, rocking harder against him, hand coming up to his throat, holding it tightly, forcing him to look at you. 

“i… i embarrassed you in front of your boss,” he gasped out. 

“and,” you continued with a nod of your head. 

“and, i lied, didn’t listen to you, i… i got turned on when you were telling me off, please, i’m sorry, fuck,” he begged, rocking his hips. 

“good boy,” you smiled, releasing his neck and patting his cheek. you climbed off of him and unbuckled his belt before tugging his slacks down, his cock sprang free, bright red and weeping as it lay against his stomach. “oh, angel, looks sore,” you cooed, reaching out and stroking it gently, circling your thumb around the tip. 

“yes, yes,” anakin gasped. 

“feel good?” you asked him sweetly. 

“so good,” anakin nodded, and you smiled, jerking your hand up and down, using his precum as lube, he sighed in relief, head falling back against the pillow, and you giggled, continuing to play with his cock until he was squirming and crying, crystalline tears dripping down his cheeks. you felt him pulsing in your hand, so you pulled away and stared at him, waiting for him to react. 

“what?” he gaped, “no, please, i was so close,” he sobbed. 

“poor baby,” you snickered, “but you don’t get to come yet,” you shrugged, “haven’t proved how sorry you are have you, darling,” 

“what can i do? please, i’ll do anything,” he pleaded with you, sitting up against his restraints, his shoulders tensing, muscles rippling, you bit down on your lip appreciatively, you could feel the wetness staining your panties and an idea sprung in your mind so you tugged your panties down and dropped them on the bed.

“lay back,” you instructed, grabbing his shoulders and guiding him back down, crawling up his body and balancing over his chest, “you are gonna eat me out, okay?” you prompted and anakin nodded eagerly and you were balancing over his face, core pressing against anakin’s plush lips. instantly anakin dove in, burying his face against your sopping head, tongue burying into your gummy walls. he was relentless, slick dripping down his chin as he consumed you. “yes, angel,” you gasped, hands gripping the headboard as you sank deeper onto him, thighs pressing around his face, holding him in place. you could feel his arms pressing against you, but he couldn’t use them to hold your hips as he loved to, instead, you were fully in control. 

“so good,” you murmured, rocking your hips against his mouth, sinking into the feeling of his tongue inside of you, trailing up your slit, and suckling on your clit. anakin whimpered against your core sending vibrations through you. “fuck,” you gasped, “i’m gonna cum soon,” you say, grinding harder against anakin’s mouth, your words seemed to prompt him to burry deeper inside of you, tongue probing at your walls, curling upwards against you, your head fell backwards as you drew closer. “yes, yes, oh my god,” you screamed as you came all over anakin’s face, chest heaving as you came around and pulled back only to meet anakin’s guilty look. 

“what?” you say curiously, turning around and seeing anakin’s spent cock laying against his stomach, streams of sticky white cum staining his stomach. “anakin?” you asked him lowly. 

“i’m sorry!” anakin sobbed, “i couldn’t help it,” you shook your head at him, settling on his chest. 

“can’t do anything right,” you spat, raising your hand and slapping his harshly, he whined at the sensation, looking at you with wide eyes. “i tell you, you can’t cum yet and you do it while i’m not looking, fucking pathetic,” you slap him again and this time anakin moaned. “shut up, i don’t wanna hear you,” you hissed, “you know what, i’m not giving you a choice,” you tell him, grabbing your panties from the bed and shoving them in his mouth, he choked slightly around the fabric but other than that he stayed silent, simply watching you. you moved down the bed so that you were between his legs, grasping his cock and holding it tightly, his whimper came out muffled as you let it drop down into his stomach, already chubbing up once again. 

“getting hard already, angel?” you asked, landing a slap on his cock, the scream he let out ripped through his gag and you smirked, “hurt?” you asked him curiously and he nodded furiously, tears leaking down his face and onto his neck, nose running as he kicked his legs helplessly. “that’s a shame isn’t it,” you said, slowly beginning to pump his cock, once he was fully hard you stopped and slapped him once again. anakin babbled against the panties in his mouth, begging, pleading maybe, you weren’t sure as you slapped him once again, watching as a small burst of cum spurted from his tip. you rose your brow at him and he shook his head quickly, drool dripping down the side of his mouth. 

“good boy,” you murmured, looking at his cock still straining harshly, “stay like this for me okay, angel,” you said before standing up from the bed and heading to the door, “i’ll be back later,” you hummed, leaving anakin alone in the bedroom voice muffled by your panties, hands tied to the headboard and cock throbbing and weeping as he waited for you to return.

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this shit was wild lmao

tags: @johnbassplayercutie @st4rfckerz @titaniasfairy

[navstuffs]

Dry-humping Leon Kennedy, who is wearing Graves's outfit. 

Based on this mod. TW: dry humping/knee humping, masturbation, gloves, clothed male, tiny little tease at the end, gn!reader. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! lowkey dedicated to @sarahs-secrets2 biggest grave's fan i know

my leon's masterlist

If Leon Kennedy could stop time right now, he would. He had to be out of your house within ten minutes if he didn't want to be late; he was never late, but all his responsibilities were thrown out the window when it came to you. Your presence influenced his mind and sense of duty.

"There is nothing bad on putting yourself first, Leon."

And there you are, legs spread apart, humping your clothed sex against his knee, a frantic desire for someone who won't see each other for weeks. Your eyes are locked on his, drowsy with pleasure, begging for more than Leon can give now. 

"Don't do this to me," Leon whispers, his cock twitching in his pants. He wants you to give you everything, but he limits himself to helping, gloved hands on your hips, creating more friction.

Leon glances from your focused face, to your chest, your hips, to then your covered sex. His eyes lust as he notices the wet spot in your underwear. Leon licks his lips unconsciously, his hands impatiently pulling your underwear down.

His gloved hands start rubbing your aching sex, not slow as usual times, but more frantic, his gaze directed to your face again, anxious to know if he is pleasing you or not. You yelp, surprised by the difference on the texture, not his warm hands, but the raspy texture of his gloves.

And though he isn't used to dirty talk (Leon always mentions how awkward and silly he feels), he still does it for you. 

"Can I can make you cum like this? Right in my knee? Please, so I can remember you."  

You answer with a sob, fingers digging into his shoulders. You start whimpering; so close now, so close to let it rip and cum in your underwear. 

It is Leon moaning your name, his hands stroking your sex, that makes the rope rip. You finally let go, locking your lips with his. After a couple of minutes of your heavy breathing, you look at the clock. Five minutes until Leon has to leave. He notices your intentions, stopping your wrist before it touches his bulge.

"Ah, ah. Not now ,later."

"We have time." You argue. Always so stubborn. Or spoiled by him, didn't make a difference.

"Let's just stay like this for a while, okay?" Leon asks, holding you tightly in his arms, your hands gripping his vest. You both don't say anything until you whisper.

"Do not dare to not come back to me-"

"I know."

"-I am serious, Leon!" 

"I know. I will come back to you, I promise."

A promise—a promise you both don't know when Leon might not be able to keep. But Leon promises it anyway because what lengths wouldn't he go for you? 

Less than a minute now. You sigh, ready to leave his lap. You notice he makes no motion to remove his gloves, and you can't help but cringe and feel powerful at the same time. You have a full view of what started all of this: the jeans, the blue shirt rolled up into his sleeves, and those darn gloves. Leon notices you staring and blushes, looking at you in that innocent way it drives you crazy.

"Don't start." You warn him. He raises his arms up, as if not doing anything. Bastard.

It is time for him to leave. You leave his lap, dressing Leon's old shirt from an unknown band from the '90s you were wearing before his arrival. You two kiss again, this time more tender, more gentle, sealing the promise.

Come back to me.

I will.

You let your man go, and Leon doesn't look back when the door closes. You bite your lips, and the sense of dread and despair when he is gone starts growing in your chest. You can't let sadness invade you like this, not like last time. A new idea pops into your head. But for that, you must call the other man in your and Leon's life. 

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I found a probably illegal fighting range posting as a gym near my house and so, picture THIS

Engel just wanted to get a good workout near the place she lives. Not knowing German, she just googled first thing that popped near her on the map, and decided to get a first workout just so think if this place works for her.

Konig, getting his steam off in barely legal fighting range and very nasty, testosterone-filled gym while he is out of deployments. Engel in her dumb little workout clothes, with her silly water bottle, probably pink or baby blue or lavender, stands in front of the administrator desk because she was told it was a gym(((

Konig who uses her as a workout now!! Not even in a nasty way, just making her sit on him and so on, for the added weight. Bench presses with her on his back((( makes her cheer for his fight and acts like nasty personal trainer

My fellow yandere pookie!! I love this ask! 💋

I bet König would love to parade his sweet angel around some nasty, testosterone-filled gym/ fighting range :( Loves to show her off and also wants to murder anyone who dares to look at her! She’s too cute when she’s sweating and panting like that, don't you dare check her out when she's exerting herself in those dumb, tight sports clothes or else you'll get yourself a new asshole....

At least 90 % of the “customers” are men seeking a brawl so Engel stands out like a sore thumb, taking hungry gulps from her pink water bottle which is the only spot of colour in the bleak brutal gym. A kind, sweet girl just trying to have a nice lil workout, and they can’t turn her away because they have to pose as a real gym… (lol I’m not surprised Engel somehow managed to get herself into a situation like this AGAIN)

And König is so proud of her! Trying to attempt a squat PR with weights he uses for a quick warmup, it's too adorable. He cheers her on when she’s trying to do her very first chin up – he has to help her up because the bar is positioned too high.

These two are simply disgusting because Engel will flirt through the mirror as revenge for König being low key nasty, always putting his hands around her middle, trying to remind her to keep her core tight or some silly stuff like that. Climbs on his lap when he’s trying to bench press, they get a warning because they’re distracting the other “customers” and look it’s also potentially dangerous. König knows it but he’s got his pump on and it makes him a little soft in the head, besides Engel trying to help him in her own way only makes him lift more because of course he has to show off to her and to the other men. He’s the strongest male around here and he’s having fun with his darling angel, everyone else can fuck off with their warnings and rules.

And NOO not König kicking everyone’s butt at the range while Engel watches him with wide eyes 🥺 He’s being so violent again, she doesn’t know if she’s grossed out or aroused :// It might be a little sick but they both get turned on by this, König “letting out steam” and Engel being his “innocent” little cheerleader. They go home and take a shower together, Engel cleans his wounds too, whispering confessions on how scared she was – when in reality she knew all along that König would destroy those guys, like is this the same girl who screamed from joy when he bashed someone's face in lol – and König being more than happy to have a worried but sparkly eyed angel, fussing about his health after he just gave some poor guy a free nose job.

[olderthannetfic]

Until I read the comments on that one post I had no idea the Bechdel Test was a joke and wasn't supposed to be a serious measuring stick by which you gauged if something was feminist or not. Everywhere I'd ever heard it brought up, it was brought up as a very serious thing, and it was a failure of media if it didn't pass it. I remember the debate about Mako Mori from Pacific Rim and if she was a character you were "allowed" to like as a progressive person despite the fact that Pacific Rim doesn't pass the Bechdel Test, the discourse, the discussion of if the director was sexist for not writing in another woman for her to chat with about non-men related stuff, the camp of people trying to insist that having a fully realized character arc and being as developed as any of the male leads = good writing even if she doesn't talk to another girl...

And I've also had the remark about my writing not passing the test, just not to my face. I searched my fanfic's name once, curious to see if anyone was discussing it outside of tumblr and AO3, and found a Tiktok complaining about it not passing the Bechdel Test. The top comment was "motherfucker YOU don't pass the test but we still watch your ass". I cackled and moved on, but neither the commenter, poster, nor I had any awareness this wasn't Feminist Media Critique 101 theory and was, in fact, a goof.

Right now there's a segment of fandom debating if Blue Eye Samurai is feminist since when Mizu and Akemi talk, they do bring up men, since, y'know. Women aren't considered people with rights in their era in Japan and thus it's something they mention instead of only talking about being cool girlboss badasses who never bring up gender. If something doesn't pass the Bechdel Test, a smug segment of the internet high-fives itself and congratulates one another on being More Feminist Than Thou.

They then get really angry if you disagree, even though by this metric, Sleeping Beauty (the original animated one, where Aurora has only 16 lines of dialogue) is more feminist than Blue Eye Samurai.

--

*DYING*

Okay, so, nonnie....

Dykes to Watch Out For (1983-2008) was a long-running comic and major piece of lesbian media. I grew up buying compiled volumes at the bookstore. To be honest, that kind of 90s-ish lesbian culture isn't really my scene despite me being bi, but it was very nice to have this slice of life-y somewhat realistic, occasionally somewhat parody, look at the queer communities around me. It's up there with Tales of the City for me in terms of being a window into a particular culture and time and place.

If anybody is interested in queer history, in addition to looking up factual info, I think a read of the complete Dykes would give a really good overview of how people were thinking about things and what issues came up a lot. You'll see things like Barnes & Noble increasingly putting feminist bookstores out of business in the 90s, attitudes towards porn in lesbian circles—all kinds of cultural issues of the day.

I drifted away as I got later in my teens and found more genre fiction I cared about, but at one point, this comic was a very welcome antidote to the glurgey coming out stories that made up a lot of the more realistic media.

Anyway, here's the comic itself, reproduced in its entirety because I think it's important to actually understand the context.

This is from 1985, so the era of Rambo, Conan, and Death Wish, each of which you can see being made fun of here. It's based on Bechdel's friend Liz Wallace's actual rule for seeing movies.

That's it. That's the origin of this whole stupid test.

"LOL, fuck 80s action movies". That's it. That's the joke.

The fact that blockbusters still routinely fail to pass in the 2020s is shameful, but that was never the point of the strip.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Please tell me how Duke,Cass and Stephanie getting nonstop left out of Batfam content isn't because of antiblackness,racialized misogyny and a mix of gender essentialism,classism and ableism.When none of you can shut the fuck up about how 'black haired and blue eyed male is the only requirement for a Batkid!' and go as far as to include 'pale/fair skinned' sometimes when Damian and Dick are brownskin in multiple versions because of being brown in heritage and Damian and Jason have green eyes half the time and by saying 'lighteyed' when it comes to Batboys,that would be problematic but it'd at least include Duke since he's gold eyed due to Gnonom and you probably don't even know who that is since you actively refuse to meet Duke even though he's easiest Batkid to read for BECAUSE he's got so little content and Cass and Stephanie also have a small amount of material compared to the other boys

When Cass is chosen over Duke for Jason by all of you even though she hates him and she chooses Stephanie again and again against everyone's wishes and Duke canonically WANTS to be chosen for fucking once and Jason DID choose him and is the only other Batboy who called him a Robin directly outside of Robin War and Stephanie's dying wish was be 'a real Robin' and Cass' character creation purpose is to defy the idea that asian women exist only for white men and go against other asian girl stereotypes,INCLUDING being purely soft and feminine by making her a rough and tough butch who hates cis men.When you say 'Fuck canon,fanon is better!' to justify your millions of rewrites to erase Tim's Robin being a romani man and his Batgirl a half chinese girl and Jason's Robin and Batgirl being a black autistic boy and his Batgirl a bpdtistic male explotation victim and your crossovers of characters who have the perfect parents or at least caretakers in canon but suddenly,canon is your gospel when it comes to the bigotry in it's writing i.e how 'The core Batkids' came to be

And the fact is,that's like the only Batkids combo that DOSEN'T make sense!The Dead Robins Club is a no brainer but there's also the 90s Batkids trinity,the Shakespearen Robins(Jason,Stephanie and Duke),The Troubled Batkids(Tim,Stephanie,Cass and Duke),Batman!Cass Batwoman!Stephanie Robin!Maps and Trans Batgirl!Damian and the ONLY CANON Nightwing Robin and Batgirl trio we've ever gotten in Dick Tim and Cass??????You have some of the best dynamics of all time possible but nah,you'd rather pass it over for infantalizing a grown ass disabled moc into your pathetic lil pretty obsessed manchild,turning thee dead sidekick into a convuluted mess more than canon ever has and that's saying BIG words,cringeifying someone who just has the personality of an ordinary of 17 year old boy and is therefore inherently lovable into the arranged marriage lovechild of a dark romance guy and a pick me quotev girl and dehumanize a cute and sweet lil brown boy who's got that trauma already to turn him into an animal in human mold in the same breath you bash him healing enough to get a gf through trauma bonding and being kiddy together in favor of your groody ass lil age gap fantasy-Actually,that applies to ALL OF THEM

Kory,Rose and STEPHANIE are infinitely better written love interests for Dick,Jason and Tim than any older man you want them to get with,Tim most of all because he's not even a man,he's a boy.Cass and Stephanie are adults and have been for a long time in multiple incarnations so why not make Stephcass smut instead?Why not 'Duke joins the Batfam early/Jason takes Duke into The Outlaws after he has a fight with Bruce that scared him/Sleep Deprived Duke Thomas/Chaotic Duke Thomas/Duke Thomas deserves better/Trans Duke Thomas/Autistic Duke Thomas?,all of which are infinitely more implicable to Duke than they are to Tim and so is 'Token Normal Tim Drake'?When you make this content or you support it,you're saying something.You're saying you don't care about representation and perfer stereotyping and abusive dynamics because you believe they're inherently more interesting

Before you judge this post,consider the following:Which one of us has read enough comics and watched enough adaptions to know all this?Which one of us has more of a right to call themself a Batfam and Batkids fan?Which one of us is constantly gatekeeping Duke,Cass and Stephanie from their own story and pulling the 'No,YOU!!!!' card?It's absolutely pathetic how desperate the grip Batfanon has taken is and even more so that y'all refuse to move on from it like i did.It's not gonna kill you,you pissbabies.And just curious,how long was the last Batfam-centric post you rb'd?Longer than this,right?

[thebirdart]

Some features of the earth urchins compared to the four hedgehogs of the world of Sonic!

One day I asked myself the question of how would be the anatomy of Sonic and I began to investigate the anatomy of the ground urchins but I liked so many details of them that I put together some characteristics of these animals to compare them with the four hedgehogs of the world of Sonic.

us start!

Starting with obvious facts:

In the world of Sonic only showed to have four hedgehogs; Sonic, Amy, Shadow and Silver, (the green does not count because it is still Sonic)

They all appear to be of a "same species of hedgehog".

For we know 16 types of earth urchins on our planet.

On the other hand I thought Silver was of a different species like Shadow. (By the shape of its spikes) But I don’t see the point, so they must be the same species. Although Shadow might be a little authentic in his design, I’ll explain later.

(Data: the hedgehog Atelerix algirus and the hedgehog Hemiechinus auritus are the ones who take care more to be pets at home)

FOOD

-Ground urchins eat insects, worms, molluscs, snakes, some fruits, small vertebrates, acorns, young birds and eggs.

(the hedgehog thought about it a little before attacking)

-Sonic and the others eat things that could be considered human; chili dogs, coffee beans (this is done by Shadow), strawberry cake (eaten by Amy and Sonic hates it), hamburgers (by SonicBoom), apples (by a drawing of Silver), and so on.

ANATOMY

The ground urchins have very good flexibility, an arched spine and strong and flexible muscles, that allows them to become ball. Comparing it with the deformed hedgehogs (Sonic) there is not much difference since all present good strength and flexibility, except Silver that can not be made ball.

The spikes of hedgehogs are made of keratin, which is a protein substance. I guess the same applies to Sonic and so on. Although in Sonic Unleashed when he is electrocuted we can see that it does not have "bones" in its large spikes, it is a little obvious to know but data that goes without saying.

The skeleton of ground urchins is similar to other mammals, only that its spine is a little more curved, as well as other details; as that its clavicle is well developed so that it can dig hard. This is very different from Sonic’s body and so on as it would resemble more a human structure.

Although also to keep in mind Sonic’s feet are… a closed thing…

By the way the snout and mouth are very different too. Sonic has a snout but the nose and mouth are different from the ground urchin. And another fact: the hedgehogs take incredibly long walks if it is for food; something like 7.2 km/h and if we combine it with the particularity of Sonic being very fast this powerful detail does not overlook.

Time when I jumped out of my spot when I was reading this.

I love this, I have no idea if the creator of Shadow has taken this as a reference but did you know that hedgehogs have a blue border that surrounds their dark eyes? This can only be seen when hedgehogs look to the side. So the great "eyeliner" of Shadow could be a real detail of the animal but taken as a reference to leave it beside your eyes on the outside.

The tail of the common hedgehogs is bare, but the tail of the deformed ones appears to be of the same color as all their other spikes.

I think, canonically, the characters of the Sonic world can mate. But I didn’t see anything that highlighted this, I mean, we can witness Cream’s mother.

Male hedgehogs have a small penis, (bulge), located in what would be their navel and have intra-abdominal testicles (they remain in the abdomen instead of leaving through the scrotum) and the female vulva is a small button that is located in front of the anus.

I guess since they’re characters from the '90s, it’s obvious that this wasn’t thought of at the time of their creation. There’s not much to think about since they’re characters who may or may not wear clothes (Tails-Nine and Sally-Amy) and yet we wouldn’t see anything, not even the nipples! Because hedgehogs have five nipples, both female and male, and you’ll notice that Sonic has nothing.

But I found a picture of Sally where she has more clothes. I suppose it must be a hallmark that female characters wear clothes. (Although Sally is not a canonical character, of course.)

THE 5 SENSES:

Sight: they do not have good view, it is said that hedgehogs have no sense of space, but they can distinguish shapes. Although the hedgehogs are blind and may have collisions with objects, they continue to travel great distances and this does not cause them to slow down, they continue with the same speed as if they had good eyesight.

Smell: very developed, so I guess the four hedgehogs can smell very well from several meters, maybe Sonic can smell Eggman without making noise, will smell of egg?

If you hid a chili dog under the ground in a box, Sonic could find it.

Hearing: the ear of hedgehogs can detect high frequency sounds, their developed sense allows them to locate their prey underground.

Tip: If you saw the Sonic Prime series you will notice that Sonic’s ears move often before a sound. I think a good detail added for the blue hedgehog, this is also added in the IDW comics, I did not find the panel but it is when Amy stays listening to the ground and knows that two hedgehogs are close, those hedgehogs were Shadow and Sonic.

But although hedgehogs have a very sensitive ear I do not consider it the same for the four hedgehogs as they would go crazy at the sounds of Eggman machines, explosions or a simple click of the computer mouse. (Ground urchins get stressed too fast with a simple computer click)

Taste: These animals have a peculiar… sense of taste. They like the taste of a hundred feet. So it’s not uncommon for Shadow to like bitter, for Sonic to like spicy, and for Amy to like sweet, what would Silver like? Healthy or the first thing he finds in his world to eat?

Types of sounds hedgehogs make

Sounds of joy: these little things purr like a cat, and they can even mix it with whistles. Could it be that Shadow purred when he was with Maria?

Bullying sounds: they emit a sound through the nose from a strong breathing, they do it when they feel attacked or are upset. (I don’t know if they thought of it this way when they made Shadow growl annoyingly in Sonic Prime. The same with Amy and Sonic when they got jealous or bothered with each other at Sonic Boom)

Whining sound: when they feel pain they emit a sound like a scream, I could notice this in a video of a hedgehog that was in the water of a bathtub. (although there are always exceptions)

Sleeping sounds: Hedgehogs snore, I guess they all snore too?Hedgehogs fall asleep anywhere. In the Sonic game where Amy’s birthday is celebrated, Tails mentions that Sonic can sleep anywhere, even in the most unusual.

Data: the hedgehogs have nails/claws that they use to dig the earth and since the of Sonic characters are put gloves to not show their hands I think they should not have pads like normal animals but rather human hands. Well, Sticks is the only one I’ve seen without gloves and she’s a badger and badgers have pads. So all Sonic characters should have hands without the characteristics of their species.

BEHAVIOR

The behavior of one ground urchin and the other four is very different, except Shadow, he should stay on the side of the ground urchins.

Since hedgehogs are solitary, they only come together when it’s mating season. (Although Sonic likes to spend time alone…but he’s not a lone wolf like Shadow)

UNGIMIENTO (I couldn’t find the word in English)

When tasting a taste or perceive a new smell, or rare, the animal bites the source of this flavor or smell (Animals, objects, people, whatever) to then make a frothy, thick and white drool that with the tongue are smeared on the side peaks and those near his face. (Scientists don’t know why they do this) If I imagine it for the four deformed hedgehogs maybe this does not exist for them, as they smell new things all the time.

EXTRA DATA: Hedgehogs can swim but they don’t like to stay in the water too long because they can drown, I saw a documentary that mentioned this. I like that touch they gave Sonic that in the water he is scary, I don’t know if it’s something canonical or fandom but it was nice to see him be the only one with a life jacket in the Olympics.

Remember when they did that twitter and tiktok special where they asked Sonic what would happen if he was a worm? Well, hedgehogs eat worms. And did you know that the Egyptian hedgehog is prey to foxes? While it’s another kind of hedgehog this is funny. In Sonic the movie the character Longclaw is the "mother" of Sonic… the funny thing about this is that she is an owl and owls eat hedgehogs.

Who had the idea to give a friend and mother predators to Sonic?

That’s all. I hope you liked these characteristics that I came up with. See you later!

[beautifulfaaces]

Max Lohan

Facts

December 12, 1997

English actor

Filmography

Nathan [Tonight We Die: 2021]

Luka [The A List: 2018-2021]

Ricky [Doctors: 2020]

Appearance

brunette

curls

blue eyes

Roleplay

playable: young adult

[marina98s]

Brendan Fraser in “The Passion of darkly noon”

[bruh-changbin]

sweet tooth

pairing: park jay x waitress!afab reader

genre: smut, minimal fluff (minors dni)

warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe), public sex, creampie, finger sucking, minimal food play, lots of mentions of food, brief mention of male masturbation, jongseong is kind of a big desperate loser, lmk if i’m missing anything

word count: 6.7k

a/n: writing this killed me idk why it took fucking forever dawg. but hey, i’m finally giving you all an enha fic without a depressing ending!!! here’s a fun drinking game to play while you read this: take a shot every time jay says a variation of ‘uhhh’ (you will die) ALSOOOO this is for my bae’s @k-ingzo @lix-ables thank you guys for hyping me up to write this bc if you didn’t I’m 90% sure I would’ve scrapped it 😻 LOVE YAAAAA

waiting. 

the most painful game one can be subjected to.

seconds stretch into minutes stretch into hours and soon enough the whole concept of time is but a mere social construct that holds no real value. 

surely his coffee’s gone cold by now. 

the view from the window to his right has progressed from one filled with gold, yellow and orange to one filled with blue, black, and indigo. one by one the neon signs of nearby businesses have flickered on to attract the nighttime crowd. 

he tries to ignore the way his heart is sinking in his chest, much like the way he himself is sinking deeper and deeper into the red vinyl cushion of the booth he’s seated in. the overhead speakers have been blaring elvis for the past half hour and he wants to scream and smash a plate on the floor in frustration. if they play hound dog one more time i swear i’m gonna-

jennifer. 20. single. 2.3 km away. her bio read: only swipe right if you like puppies!!!!!

he does like puppies and found her to be quite pretty, so he did as he was instructed. his heart did a small flip in his chest when his phone screen lit up reading ‘it’s a match!’. he got to talking to her and things were going smoothly. well, at least he thought they were. now he’s alone in a booth constantly refreshing their online chat with some sliver of hope that she may still be coming. the same three messages stare back at him:

[5:17 pm] jay : hey! I got here a bit early so i’m just waiting in the car. let me know when you get here and we’ll go in together.

[6:03 pm] jay: it started getting busy so i snagged us a booth, i hope that’s ok… anyways, i’ll see you soon.

[6:49 pm] jay: hello?

whatever, her loss. fuck dating apps.

and fuck jake sim for making him sign up for one.

maybe tinder just isn’t for him. maybe he needs to find love the old fashion way: bumping into someone on the street; locking eyes across a crowded room; both of you reaching for the last bottle of wine at the grocery store and then just insisting that the other takes it. you know, the kind of shit you see in movies.

the only thing is he’s tried the old fashion way for years to no avail, with tinder being his last resort. things like these take time, he tries to remind himself. you can’t rush love, that’s the magic of it!

but now, seated in a booth at an obnoxiously retro themed diner with his head hung low, he has lost all faith in love. he picks up the porcelain mug to his right and downs the dark liquid; cold, just like his heart. 

he should just leave. i mean it’s obvious at this point that he’s been stood up so he should just head home where the teasing and nagging from jake that will bruise his ego even more is iminent. there comes a time in life where one must accept defeat and move on with-

“would you like a top up, sir?”

a sudden interjection from a saccharine voice to his left is what pulls him out of his trance of self pity. woah, hello you. 

it’s been a long time since he’s been rendered speechless, but you do that to him. you, looking like someone who should be on the cover of a magazine as opposed to serving coffee in a diner. a white button down hugs your torso in all the right ways and he’s envious of the red apron that’s tightly wrapped around your waist because that should be him. the blue ballpoint pen tucked behind your ear somehow makes you 10x more attractive and he can feel his throat close up at the sight of you. 

your skin looks smooth and your lips look plump and thank fuck jessica bailed on him because now all he can think about is bending you over this very table and fucking you raw. top up? more like top me, please!

the glint of the gold name tag pinned onto your shirt catches his eye and he reads it: y/n. pretty.

he notices your eyes shifting around anxiously and reality comes crashing down on him. stop drooling over her tits and answer the question you perv. focus!

“i u-uhhh yes, uh yes please that’d be great,” he stutters out embarrassingly, prompting you to bend over and refill his mug with steaming hot coffee from a pot that you hold with a perfectly manicured hand. 

“can i get you anything else while you…” your eyes dart to the empty seat across from where he’s seated, “wait?”

god this is so embarrassing. now the cute waitress thinks he’s a fucking loser who got stood up (that is exactly what happened). could this day get any worse? he was just about to leave, spare himself from more agony when you waltzed into his life and made his brain a complicated, frazzled mess. 

“uhmm no that’s ok,” he’s trying very hard not to trip over the simplest of words, “just the bill would be great.”

you nod, about to turn around and head over to the register when jay speaks up again in an attempt to preserve his image. 

“it was supposed to be a-a work meeting,” he starts while motioning to the still empty spot across from him, “but my uh….. business partner… couldn’t make it, so..”

he’s lying. you know he’s lying. someone waiting for their ‘business partner’ to show up wouldn’t be checking their phone every 1-3 minutes while intermittently wiping their clammy palms on their slacks every time the doorbell jingles and a new customer enters.

but he doesn’t need to know that, so you paint on an understanding smile before heading over to the diner counter, sparing him one final glance over your shoulder.

it’s a sad sight to see; a handsome boy patiently waiting for someone who’s clearly not going to show up. so you bring him a slice of red velvet cake dolled up with cream cheese icing and waive the two cups of coffee that were tacked onto his bill for the evening.

“it’s on the house,” you practically whisper into his ear while placing a comforting hand on his sturdy shoulder.

“oh!” his voice cracks, “t-thank you so much i-” he calls, but you’re already walking away to assist another table.

his hand instinctively reaches to where yours was placed on his shoulder only moments ago. he could sense the warmth radiating from your palm, feel the stray hairs of your bangs tickle his ear, smell the artificial strawberry scent of your lip gloss. 

either someone decided to crank the heat up in the diner or he’s becoming extremely flustered (it’s the second one). he scoffs down the cake you left him with flushed cheeks and tight pants, visions of himself prying your legs open and indulging in something sweeter plaguing his mind. 

with a hefty sigh he throws on his coat before making his way out of the diner and into his car that’s parked right out front. from behind his windshield he watches as you greet a group of other customers before turning his keys in the ignition and peeling out of the parking lot.

he doesn’t even make it home before he’s pulling into an empty parking lot and jerking himself to the thought of you and your work uniform and your glossed lips.

covet. desire. yearn for. crave.

all very real tertiary emotions that park jay would use to describe his current feelings towards you - a server who he spoke to for two minutes max and now can’t seem to move on from.

unsurprisingly, jake teased the fuck out of him for getting stood up in the way that friends do. but he doesn’t know that jay views his failed date as a complete success. 

albeit he is still mildly salty over the fact that he got stood up, all negativity is washed from his brain the moment he pulls into the familiar parking lot in front of the familiar diner and he feels the familiar pitter patter of his heart quickening its pace from behind his ribcage. 

he tried to hold off on returning the literal day after he was just there, he really did, but he simply couldn’t bear it. the urge to see you, to observe you interacting with other patrons to know if you’re nice to everyone or if he got special treatment is too strong to ignore. it’s for science! he assures himself.

the dulcet jingle of the bell as he opens the door to the diner rings in his ears, and he waits to be seated. the hostess that shows him to a booth similar to the one he was in yesterday is pretty, but she’s not you. only then does jay realize that the possibility of you not having been scheduled to work today is very real. this is only worsened by the fact that he decided to come in the late morning today as opposed to the evening like yesterday. stupid, stupid, stupid!!!

while feeling like a complete and utter idiot he decides to get to work, whipping out his journal, writing utensils and laptop for the sake of not looking like a weirdo. what kind of person goes to a diner and just…. sits there. he’s gotta keep up a facade. 

things are starting to look grim for jay as he sits and works and waits for the object of his desire to appear in front of him. while the retro cat clock on the wall continues its relentless ticking he attempts to swallow down his dismay. 

alas, the universe must be on his side after all for soon enough he catches a glimpse of you through his peripherals. yes! you seem to be a little frazzled, gnawing on the inside of your cheek before grabbing a mop to clean up the chocolate milk that a toddler has decided to decorate the floor with; your shift must have just started. 

he keeps his head hung low while intermittently scribbling in his journal or scrolling on his laptop, opting to steal an occasional glance as you assist a plethora of other patrons. the coffee he was served upon his arrival is starting to go tepid, much like yesterday, and he’s practically praying you’ll soon stride over and ask if he needs a top up. 

“more coffee…” you pause briefly, “jay?”

hold up, how’d you learn his name? 

his brow quirks upwards in confusion and with your hand - the one that’s not holding a boiling pot of coffee - you point to his leather bound journal that’s splayed across the table, opened to the first page. property of park jay is scrawled across the top in his sloppy handwriting akin to that of a first graders. he’s surprised you can even distinguish what it says to be completely honest. 

“ahhh,” he remarks in understanding, smiling ever so slightly because hey, now you know each others names. that’s a step in the right direction.

“were you looking to order something? you know, other than black coffee.”

as if on cue his stomach growls (luckily quietly enough for you to not pick up on it) and he fumbles for the plastic covered menu to his right that slips and slides in his sweaty grasp. 

“i would love to but uhh, i’m not sure what i’m in the mood for… what do you recommend?”

you roll his question around in your head for a moment, “were you thinking sweet or savoury? or if you want both, we make a pretty mean monte cristo.”

at this point if you told jay to walk off a cliff he would do it, so he orders your recommendation without hesitation.

“good call,” you purr before waltzing away from his booth and into the kitchen, leaving jay to erupt in a fit of goosebumps on his own. 

while he waits he busies himself with reading an article on his laptop, getting halfway through before realizing he hasn’t actually been taking any information in the entire time. but can you blame him? his brain is… preoccupied with other thoughts. 

soon enough you’re striding back over to where he’s seated, placing a steaming monte cristo with so much confectioner's sugar on top it looks as if there’s been a mini avalanche in front of him. he thanks you and is about to dig in before he realizes you aren’t leaving. 

“is your business partner coming today?”

…what?

“my business partner? i don’t- OH! fuck, uh y-yes my business partner right! uh no, no he’s not coming today. i usually come here to work on my own though.”

for a moment he forgot about the blatant lie he spilled to you the last time he was here to save face, but he thinks he saved himself with that last bit. 

a playful yet triumphant smirk makes its way onto your face, “that’s funny, i’ve never seen you here before yesterday.”

his eyes widen and his palms become impossibly sweaty. caught in a lie, great.

before he can come up with a witty response you just shoot him a knowing look as you walk away from the booth he’s seated in, your strawberry body spray wafting behind you and infiltrating his senses, rendering him immobile. 

ugh how you make his teeth ache! he longs to douse you in syrup and powdered sugar, drag his hot tongue across your skin as you squirm and twist in pleasure underneath him. he’s sure you’d be sweet enough to give him a cavity. he finishes his monte cristo with gusto and attempts to do more work on his laptop but finds his brain to be far too frazzled to do so.

when he decides to call it quits, he leaves you a hefty tip before driving home with the taste of sugar coating his lips and the inside of his mouth.

over the span of a few weeks the two of you become accustomed to a game similar to the likes of cat and mouse.

he shows up to the diner in the late morning/early afternoon and prays that you’re scheduled for a shift; you usually are. through the course of a few hours jay manages to get minimal amounts of work done while you check on him occasionally, offering your opinions on different menu items and then placing a hand on his shoulder with a laugh when he trips over his words. 

he’s sure you can sense the tension as well, but in case you can’t he keeps his thoughts to himself. you could just be doing your job for all he knows. 

nevertheless, it feels as if all aspects of jay’s life now revolve around you. when he falls asleep at night you’re the last thing on his mind and when he wakes up you’re the first. when he gets himself off he has to think of you or else he won’t feel satisfied, and he can only hope and pray that one day he’ll be able to feel your body against his, the warmth radiating from your body making him feel like a cake in an oven. 

sure he’d love to take you out, shower you with gifts and spoil you by taking you to expensive places that would surely break the bank, but he just can’t seem to push away all of the hardly appropriate thoughts and feelings he harbours towards you. it’s becoming quite an issue, honestly.

he thinks of popping the buttons on your blouse open one by one before diving in, scattering bite marks and bruises across your tits and neck and collarbones as you writhe and plead underneath him. i need more jay, please give it to me…

god you would sound so perfect.

his fantasies don’t stop there though; they never do. he can’t help himself from imagining what it'd be like to reach up your skirt and peel your panties down your legs as if they’re strands of red licorice. he’d go so slow, taunting and teasing you before slipping himself inside of you and feeling your cunt suck him in as if you crave him like oxygen. 

you smell of strawberries and he’s sure you taste like them too. the stripper red polish on your nails would pair so well with the scratches he’s sure you’d leave across the expanse of his back and shoulders. he longs to dig his teeth into your plush thighs like they’re mochi, snapping a picture of his bite mark embedded in your perfect skin to save for later use. 

down bad is an understatement when it comes to jay’s desire for you. infatuation is more like it.

today starts off like every other day. the smell of burnt coffee is what pulls him from his slumbers, and the clock on his bedside table tells him he managed to sleep in until one in the afternoon. when he trudges into the kitchen he sees his roommate and friend jake, who likely also just woke up and still doesn’t understand how to properly operate a coffee machine, staring at his phone. 

it’s then that jake reminds him of the plans they made to spend the afternoon at their friends house playing video games before grabbing takeout for dinner. jay curses his past self for agreeing to these dumb plans with his dumb friends since he was planning on heading to the diner today to marvel at his favourite waitress! oh well, he can still head over for an hour and a half at most before he has to return and uphold the prior promise he made. 

he turns down jake’s offer of a cup of coffee and, after a quick shower, he’s flying out the door.

when he finally makes it to the place where he spends most of his days now he doesn’t even wait to be seated, just slips into the same booth as always and waits for you. the little ritual the two of you have fallen into now so ingrained into his brain he can’t imagine straying from it. alas, it’s decently busy today so he busies himself by scrolling through his instagram feed while waiting for you to grace him with your presence.

when you finally appear in front of him you don’t say anything, just shoot him your usual friendly smile while precariously placing a napkin and mug of black coffee in front of him before leaving as quickly as you came. this sends jay into an emotional spiral. oh god, did i do something wrong? he ponders to himself, brows furrowed as he tries to remember everything he said to you during your last interaction that could have potentially been misconstrued.

only then does he notice the blue ink poking out from the napkin tucked underneath his steaming mug of coffee. with shaky hands he pulls it out and reads the short message written in your refined penmanship:

my shift is done at 10:00 pm.

wait for me? :)

y/n

and just below your neat scrawl he can make out a sticky lip gloss print, a faint hint of the fake strawberry scent that plagues his mind day and night still lingering. 

in this moment he should be happy, ecstatic, victorious even! his constant and obsequious devotion to you has not gone unnoticed, and at long last he’ll be alone with you in a place that doesn’t have checkered tile floors and posters of pin ups on every square inch of the teal coloured walls. but no, all he feels is embarrassment.

embarrassment because he was too much of a wiener to actually do something so you felt the need to take matters into your own hands. and embarrassment because your little napkin love letter signed off with your glossy kiss is making him excruciatingly horny. it’s like he’s in highschool all over again - yikes. 

he glances at the face of the silver watch that he scarcely takes off, the leather wrist strap now feeling uncomfortably tight considering his recent spike in blood pressure. with some reluctance he decides to leave early, tucking your napkin note into his pocket before driving home while barely focusing on the road and cars in front of him.

the hangout with jake and the rest of his friends is excruciating as expected. time seems to both fly by and drag on simultaneously, and he watches the hands on his watch tick down the hours, minutes, seconds until he can finally be with you - alone. when jake finally throws the towel in jay all but runs out of the door, speeding down the now far emptier city streets before pulling into the dining parking lot and waiting (he’s 23 minutes early).

with every passing minute his heart rate quickens and, when the time reads 10:06 pm, he thinks he’s going to faint when he sees you exit your place of work and scan the parking lot briefly before making your way over to his car. the sound of his passenger side door opening feels far off as he tries to make sense of the fact that you are about to be in his car, right beside him. what the fuck.

“hi.”

“hi.”

“i like your car.”

“oh, you do?”

“yep. it suits you.”

“really?”

you only nod at this, flashing him a subtle grin before flipping down the sun visor in front of you to tidy up your appearance after a long and tiring shift (he still thinks you look pretty). it feels as if his fingers aren’t his own as he fiddles with the radio while gazing at you through his peripherals, watching as you rub the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes before applying a final coat of the lip gloss that he loves oh so much. how on earth is he going to last longer than 5 minutes without falling at your feet?

“sooo what do you wanna do?” jay questions, unsure if his eagerness to hear your response is because he’s genuinely curious or because he just likes the sound of your voice.

“you choose, take me anywhere,” you offer with a smile, “surprise me!”

“okay!” he responds, narrowly escaping a voice crack as he shifts his car into reverse.. he has just the place in mind. 

the drive is somewhat of a lengthy one, although you don’t seem to mind. it’s warm enough to have the windows down, and jay greedily gulps down deep breaths of the fresh night air. from your spot in the passenger seat you ramble about your day at the diner, complaining about an old man who held the ketchup bottle the wrong way and promptly squirted it all over you when you came to ask how he was doing. despite all, you still manage to have a positive attitude. 

soon enough he’s pulling off of the main road into an opening surrounded by woods, killing the engine and the car lights and opting to bask in the natural glow of the night sky. 

“wow jay, way to be subtle.”

“what!!?”

“what do you mean what? you bring me to the city’s unofficial official makeout spot and expect me to not be skeptical?”

fuck. for the entirety of the drive over he was hoping that you wouldn’t know about the promiscuous reputation this spot has garnered over the years. he can’t give up this quickly though, he must play innocent!

“i- woahh, is that what this place is? i genuinely had no idea i just-”

“shut it jay, the first thing i noticed about you was that you’re a terrible liar.”

you’ve got him there, deception is not his strong suit. he’s about to explain himself when he notices you unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out of his car, prompting him to do the same.

“i just thought it would be a nice, secluded space where we could talk and hang out… nothing more.”

silence settles over the two of you and, upon noting jay’s queasy expression, you decide to indulge yourself and tease him (just a little bit).

“what are you trying to say?” you bat your eyelashes and fake being in thought, “that you don’t wanna fuck me on the hood of your car?”

he chokes on his saliva. 

“w-what i’m trying to say is that i’m a uhhhh gentleman. i’m a gentleman.”

yeah right, you think to yourself. a gentleman and a major fucking hypocrite. 

“okay jay, if you’re such a gentleman then why do you have a raging hard-on from literally just talking to me?”

in the pale moonlight you see his eyes widen before he scrambles to cover his crotch, not doing much to conceal his erection that’s straining against his slacks. 

“oh god i’m so sorry i can explain uhh-”

“i’m just fucking with you,” you taunt before petting his hair affectionately, attempting to quieten your giggles while jay plasters on a fake smile even though he looks like he’s about to puke. in an attempt to garner the little composure he has left he turns away from you, the cool night air soothing his heated cheeks. 

from where he’s standing he’s granted an overarching view of the city he calls home. against the nighttime sky he can decipher the suburbs, the downtown area, the cafe district. upon each building there’s a small rectangle filled with yellow or white light, windows in which individual people are carrying out their individual lives; it makes everything seem so… miniscule. i mean, aside from you, nobody even knows he’s up here - and he’s still trying to decipher if that’s a good thing or not, seeing as tonight all he’s done is embarrass himself. 

when he looks back you’re leaning against the hood of his car, your arms folded across your chest which sequentially shoves your tits together in a way that makes him wanna plunge his face in between them and give you a good old fashioned motorboat. 

his thoughts are cut off when you speak up.

 “i brought you something,” you announce before turning and opening the passenger side door of jay’s car, trifling around in your before before pulling something out and heading back to where you were standing before, leaning against the hood of his car. in your hands is a toppled over piece of red velvet cake protected by a clear plastic takeout container coupled with two disposable forks. 

“sorry it’s kinda smushed…. i forgot about it.”

“no, that’s ok!” jay thinks you shouldn’t have to apologize for anything ever, “thank you.”

with a crisp pop you open up the container, moving it to sit in between the two of you before passing jay one of the flimsy plastic forks. he lets you take the first bite, stating that after a long shift you need to get your blood sugar back up. you laugh before complying, watching as jay takes a bite right after you do, his eyes rolling back as all of the sweet, rich flavours dance across his taste buds. despite the piece of cake not being in the best condition, it still tastes like heaven.

jay’s caught off guard when your hand suddenly swoops in just as he’s about to spear another piece of cake with his fork, collecting a dollop of icing on one of your nails. he should’ve seen it coming when you reach up and wipe it on the tip of his nose with a playful laugh.

“wow y/n, so original,” he sneers while wiping the cream cheese icing on his nose onto the back of his hand. 

he attempts to do the same to you, dipping his finger in the thick frosting before moving to wipe it on the tip of your nose, but you suddenly latch onto his wrist. he watches with hungry eyes and an erratic pulse as your tongue comes in contact with his knuckle, licking all the way up to his icing-coated fingertip before taking his digit inside your mouth. the thick muscle of your tongue wraps around his finger, sucking away the sweetness before you pull yourself off of him. a faint pink ring of lip gloss on the base of his knuckle now present. 

fuck me.

not a single word is exchanged before jay pushes himself onto you, prompting you to lean back against the hood of his car that’s still slightly warm. with your body weight resting on your elbows and your legs spreading to accommodate jay’s torso, you finally let him taste you. 

your lips are soft and warm like a pastry fresh out of the oven, and when he pulls away he heaves a heavenly sigh filled with pleasure and contentment and thank fuck this is finally happening. it’s not long before you’re pressing your lips to jay’s again, one of your hands moving up to caress the shell of his ear before resting against his face.

you can feel his jaw move against your palm when he opens his mouth and drags his tongue across your sugar coated lips, inducing you to do the same. when his tongue pushes past your teeth and brushes against yours you groan in pleasure, the fingers previously gracing his face dipping down to undo several buttons of your work shirt. with his lips against yours and his tongue down your throat you can feel him giving into you, as if you’re a delectable piece of his favourite candy and he has a raging sweet tooth. 

when jay pulls himself off of you you think you might just cry. luckily you don’t go without his touch for long, for when you open your eyes you watch him dip two fingers into the frosting on top of the forgotten slice of cake before smearing it across the exposed flesh of your tits and down your sternum. he promptly shoves the two frosting coating fingers into your gaping mouth, gazing at you with heart eyes as you suck them clean. 

only then does he dip his head down, the tip of his tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your right breast before licking the stripe of icing off with one broad swipe of his tongue. he gives your other breast the same treatment before giving it teasing nips and kisses, using his tongue to soothe the pinch of his canines. 

once he licks the rest of the frosting from your sternum he continues his descent, not stopping until the insides of your thighs are brushing against his pierced ears. in one swift movement he flips your skirt upwards, your pretty panties with a subtle wet patch now on display for him and only him.

not being able to resist seeing your bare cunt in all of its glory, jay eagerly digs two fingers into the waistband before dragging the fabric down your legs. your lacy pink thong gets all twisted and tangled around your ankles as jay struggles to pull it off, eventually managing to get it around your sneakers before tucking it into his pocket for safe keeping. 

he feels his pants grow impossibly tights as he stares at you on the hood of your car with your legs spread, quite literally something that could’ve been torn right out of a playboy. without missing a beat jay dives into you, flattening his thick tongue and licking you like he would a dripping ice cream cone. it catches you by surprise and you instinctively tangle your fingers in his ebony tresses, a needy moan making its way past your lips and into the air. jay uses the tip of his tongue to explore your needy pussy, lapping up your juices and revelling in the taste on his tongue. i could die like this he thinks, and he digs his blunt nails into your thighs while shoving his head impossibly deeper. 

it’s somewhat sloppy, but what he lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm. it feels like he’s practically making out with your cunt and you can’t help yourself from tugging on his hair in approval. the groans he emits in response have you shuddering, the vibrations causing your legs to shake and tremble as you struggle to keep them pried open. in your lower abdomen you can feel the pressure of an impending orgasm begin to brew.

this sensation only doubles when jay shifts his focus to your clit, sucking on and toying with it like it’s a sugar-covered gumdrop. his actions have you arching your back off of the hood of his car, eyes squeezing shut as you cry and plead, “p-please don’t stop jay… never stop.”

your pleas boost jay’s ego to the max and he eats you out with unrestrained passion, alternating between sucking your clit and tonguing your hole until you finish all over his mouth with a canorous cry that reverberates between his ears. he hopes to never forget that sound.

with reluctance he pulls himself off of your sweet pussy, having to push your legs apart slightly to free himself from the way they were clenching around his head. he stares at you in awe as you bask in the post-orgasm sensation, mouth agape and chest heaving faintly. your eyes, when you finally pry them open, are slightly glassy and it looks like it takes you a second to come back to earth. 

your grip on jay’s hair loosened but you never fully let go, and soon enough he feels you tugging at his roots in an attempt to get him to hover over you once again. without hesitation you press your lips to his once again, tasting yourself in and on his mouth as you kiss him until you can’t breathe. 

his curious hands never stay resting in one spot on your body for longer than a second before he’s exploring somewhere else, his mouth making a path from your lips down to your jaw and neck. the tips of his fingers finally stop when they reach your hips, gripping onto your and flipping you over so your chest is against jay’s car and your ass is up in the air. 

he can’t help himself from ogling at your perfect form all splayed out for him. the curve of your ass is to die for and jay starts subconsciously unbuckling his belt, easing the strain of his pants against his painfully hard dick. 

from your spot on top of the car you begin to grow impatient. your tits are smushed and your neck is craned and even though you just came you’re already ready for another one if it means you get to feel jay filling you up like a cream puff. luckily, you soon feel the tip of jay’s cock dragging through your folds, your still-sensitive clit throbbing slightly when he bumps into it. the sound of jay spitting into his palm joins that of the crickets and your erratic breathing, soon replaced by his sighs of delight as he strokes his cock with his spit covered hand to help lube it up. 

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when you finally feel him prod your entrance with his tip, although you can sense some hesitancy. it’s not surprising when the silence is broken by jay asking: “...are you ready?”

he feels his chest tighten when you make a noise of approval followed by a meek nod, your starry eyes glancing back at him as much as you can in this particular position. with a hefty exhale he nods back before slowly starting to sink into you, a low groan making its way out of his chest as he pushes deeper and deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. 

once fully inside of you he remains stagnant for a moment, needing to adjust to how incredibly warm and tight you feel if he wants to last longer than three seconds. soon enough he feels he’s garnered enough collectedness to start moving, so he does. 

his movements are small, almost timid at first. like he’s testing the waters, garnering enough confidence to go harder, faster. your hushed whimpers of pleasure ring in his ears and he teasingly rolls his hips in an attempt to have you feel him impossibly deeper inside of you. 

“j-jay!” you cry when he seemingly bumps your g-spot with the tip of his cock, the muscles of your waist tensing up when he does. wanting to provide you as much pleasure as possible he continues his ministrations, not altering them in any way out of fear of doing something wrong. 

jay feels his stomach start to seize up as a pleasurable burn takes hold in his lower stomach, his vision blurring slightly at the edges as he shifts between groaning aloud and biting his lip so hard he’s worried he’ll break the skin and draw blood. with exercised caution he picks up the pace, ensuring that in this moment you’re still feeling as good as he is. 

his cock slips in and out of your desperate, dripping hole with ease, your hips banging against the unyielding metal hood of his car with each and every thrust. it’s hardly comfortable, but at this moment in time you think you’d rather die than have jay stop - so you persevere. 

“god you’re so good jay, so fucking big,” you praise as you feel your second orgasm of the night approaching steadily. most of your limbs have started to go numb from the position you’re in yet you can feel each and every nerve end slowly begin to burn up, to bring you closer and closer to release. when jay reaches down to toy with your aching clit, you’re done for. 

the slight ache from the way your cunt is stretched around his cock adds to the jolting sensations that come every time he bumps your clit has you so close, so close you can taste the sweet promise of an orgasm dancing on the tip of your tongue. jay feels it too, for he throws all inhibitions to the wind and fucks you from behind with no restraint. 

he can feel his release creep up his spine and spread through all of his limbs until it’s all he can see, taste, and feel. groans continue to spill past his lips as white hot light floods his senses and a blinding orgasm washes over him, which is only strengthened by the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock as you finish underneath him. he cums inside of your wanting cunt, filling it up to the brim before collapsing on top of you with a grunt. 

seconds turn into minutes and the two of you remain in place, breaths and pulses struggling to return to normal as you come down from an intense high. jay can feel his shirt clinging to his sweaty back, and he scrambles off of you when he realizes he was quite literally resting all of his weight on you.

with a helping hand he helps you sit up, chuckling slightly when your knees turn to jello when you try to stand up. so, you opt to stay seated on the hood of jay’s car for just a few more moments, patting the spot beside you to get him to sit down. you’re sure you look like a mess, but jay gazes at you with something that can only be described as awe.

smitten. captivated. enraptured. allured. 

the pale light of the moon casts a heavenly glow across your face, and he kisses your lips like they’re covered in strawberry syrup. 

a/n: tumblr’s editing system is the biggest piece of garbage i am so sorry if there are any weird glitches or anything but i am literally seconds away from whipping my laptop at the wall out of frustration as i edit this so pls lmk if anything looks weird when this posts lawl thank you

[chxrryhansen]

Warnings: 18+, choking, face slapping, degredation, slight daddy kink

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

The sound of locks being turned woke you, your head snapping to your left as you quickly sat upright on the cold floor, your mind whirring at a million miles per hour, trying to rake through memories of how you could have possibly ended up in this mess.

“Rise and shine pumpkin” a male voice called out sinisterly, the door to the dark cellar opening letting the outside light shine in, you blinked rapidly as you waited for your eyes to adjust to the bright light. “Wh-where am i? Who are you?” you ask, voice trembling.

The man slowly came into view, he was actually pretty attractive all things considered. His expensive loafers sqeaky clean, his muscles bulging in his tight black polo and at just the sight of his 90s porn stache, you felt your heat becoming wet. Shame running through your veins as you looked up at him, eyes watering with innocence.

“The names Lloyd, I’m sure your wondering how you ended up here. I can say your not the sharpest knife in the drawer sweets, but thats just how i like them” he said accentuating his last few words, his cold blue eyes piercing into you as stood, leaning his body weight towards you.

A strike of panic surged through you, without thinking of the possible consequences you bolted towards the door. Running as fast as your legs could take you, your heart beating out of your chest. Needless to say, you didn't get very far before Lloyds muscular bicep wrapped around your neck, dragging you backwards. You yelp as you attempt to wiggle out of his grasp, to no avail. "You really shouldn't have done that sunshine."

He spins you around, holding you tightly against his chest as his hand roughly wraps around your neck, forcing you to look up into his eyes as his masssive body towers over your much smaller frame. Suddenly his hand strikes out against your check, your head whips sideways, your skin instantly turning red. Your eyes fill up with tears, squealing as you stare at him in shock.

He slowly backs you against the wall “I'm sorry sweetheart was daddy too harsh on you?" he chuckled.

"Dumb little girls like you just bring out that side of me."

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

[allfortheslay25]

Neil Headcanons:

(I have more hc but these are just a few I’ve written down)

After Mary dies, Neil sleeps with a pillow against his back. He can’t sleep without it there

When Neil is scared, he doesn’t make a noise, just either flinches or internally breaks down because screaming from fear or nightmare or whatever draws attention while on the run

Neil can’t cook with flavor at all. He sucks at it

Neil is a really good driver in every way besides parking. He cannot park to save a life. Parking was not essential on the run when he was a getaway driver so he never learned to do it properly

Neil picks at the skin on his lips so they’re really dry and chapped and scarred

He’s a nail biter and sometimes bites his skin to the point it bleeds

He had very few freckles due to lack of sun while on the run, but he still had some speckled over his face until they were cut/burned off during Baltimore

Neil slowly pierces parts of his body over the years to reclaim his body

He also gets a few small tattoos

He never properly learns to fight. All the Foxes take turns/bet on who can teach Neil to fight. Matt teaches Neil to throw a punch and it’s the farthest anyone can get

He jump-ropes at the dorms sometimes if he’s antsy and can’t trust himself to go on a run

Neil sometimes hates showers and finds them to be a hassle. He’s not used to showering so much because he didn’t always have access to a shower while on the run

He actually looks nearly exactly like Mary and less like Nathan. Mary just projected her anger for her husband onto Neil since he’s their son and said it was because he looked like Nathan. Neil actually looks like 90% of Mary but has similar hair and eye color to Nathan

Neil likes skirts but does not prefer to wear them outside the comfort of his home. He is not used to doing things that make people stare

Neil has a habit of needing to do something with his mouth so he chews gum sometimes (Nicky buys packs of them for him after Neil’s pens exploded in his mouth for the fifth time in a single week)

Neil makes dry, out of pocket jokes about his trauma randomly throughout a day

His favorite fruit is actually bananas but his favorite berry are strawberries

Nathan is polish so Neil knew polish when he was 10 but Mary beat it out of him because she thought it made him sound like Nathan

After staying in Palmetto, Neil becomes a sleep kicker because his body and mind are slowly processing all the trauma he went through and it makes sleep just chaotic (a temporary REM sleep behavior disorder)

Neil can’t grow anything more than peach fuzz on his face because Nathan’s male family genes don’t grow facial hair

In Neil’s second year, the Foxes all share their own meal recipes so they can each teach Neil to cook something that actually tastes like food

Neil’s favorite color is gray but his favorite color (that’s not muted) is blue

The reason Neil is not good with his fists in a fight is because he’s got better control of his legs and should be fighting with those instead (Renee is the one to realize this but since none of the foxes know how to properly use their legs in a fight, Neil doesn’t learn much)

[astroboots]

RED FLAGS ║ PART 3

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader (hints of Marc Spector x female reader)

Summary: For the first time since that night, Steven sleeps over, but it might not be him you wake up with in your bed. Or alternatively: Marc makes a dramatic ass entrance.

Warning/content: unease around male character, distinct lack of smex... (I know trust me when I say that I am the one most surprised by this).

Word Count: 4.6k

Series Masterlist | Astroboot's Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

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For a man with a sleeping disorder, Steven sleeps like a baby, seemingly without a care in the world. 

Despite his insistence that he wanted to stay up and marathon Blue Planet together, the poor man fell asleep on you (literally) not even twenty minutes in, right around when the crabs were playing football on the beach. 

Honestly, it’s a miracle he managed to fall asleep at all in this position. He’s slumped over at an entirely awkward angle, head and shoulders nearly severed at a 90 degree angle, his cheek resting heavily on your shoulder.

Not that you mind. Sitting with him like this in your dimly-lit flat, as his shoulders rise and fall in sync with the sound of waves from the telly, is oddly comforting. Almost meditative. It would be nice if the two of you could do this together every night. Falling asleep together and waking up together, just like every other normal couple. 

You reach down, brushing a stray curl that’s fallen into his eyes, and just marvel at him for a long second. 

He looks so good like this, free from the tension that is constantly plaguing him. Not for the first time, you think to yourself how unfairly pretty he is. Golden skin, sharply defined cheekbones, curved lashes thick enough to make any woman envious. He’s a gift shop-ist, not a bloody supermodel for God’s sake! It’s entirely unnecessary of him. 

You card your fingers through his hair, raven locks soft against your skin, and gently scrape the tip of your nails against his scalp. Instinctively you await the blissful shiver and sigh that usually accompanies your attention on him. 

Not this time though. 

He’s so still. 

Tilting your head sideways, you scrutinise the sombre expression on his face. 

Eerily still. 

The usual nervous energy in his body is all gone, leaving him relaxed in a way that you’re not used to. 

Without the wide eyes and nervous movement that bleeds into every inch of his body language during his waking hours, he looks different. Not quite like your Steven anymore. 

Your chest tightens at the realisation. A moment ago, you would have attributed it to affection, but now you’re not so sure. 

You’ve only seen Steven this relaxed once before. 

Unease pricks the tip of your fingers, an uncomfortable heat swelling under your nails. You still haven’t been able to make sense of it. That distorted night when the man you love was not himself, replaced by a stranger who looked exactly like him but acted differently. Who regarded you like you were something insignificant—an insect to be quashed. You can still hear it clearly. That oddly-accented voice ringing in your ears. 

Sweetheart, he’d called you, but his voice had held not an ounce of the warm affection that Steven’s overflows with when he calls you love. 

In the quiet privacy of your bedroom, the pace of your heart quickens until it drowns out the tv, pounding painfully loud in your ears. 

This was a bad idea. 

You shouldn’t have asked him to come over tonight. 

It’s been several weeks since that first night you spent the night in Steven’s flat. Neither of you have spoken of it. Steven, for his part, still doesn't appear to remember what happened, and you've been too doped up on serotonin of the post-night love confession. Maybe it's foolish, but you've been enjoying the honeymoon phase your relationship has been plunged into and willfully ignoring anything that might derail your happiness. Most of the time you're able to chalk that night up to a one-time disturbance brought on by lack of sleep, but...

Since then, you’ve taken care to avoid this precise scenario–him falling asleep right next to you. You always leave early from his flat now. After the first few times, you learned not to look in his direction as you get dressed. That way you don’t have to face the hopeful expression in his eyes when he invites you to stay over or watch the way it inevitably dims when you make up some excuse to turn him down.

It’s not normal, and it’s not right. You shouldn’t have to be scared to sleep next to the man you love. It’s a thorn in your side in what is otherwise a perfect relationship. Except ‘thorn’ implies that it is a small issue, and this—whatever this is—is much more than that. 

It’s not a tenable situation. You know this. It’s why you invited him tonight, in the hopes that you could move past it. Past the irrational fear that you’ll fall asleep with Steven and wake up with someone else. 

Your fingers drop from where it’s threaded into his hair, slipping down to the side of his arm until your hand rests on his strong bicep. Deceptively strong. Even relaxed as he is in his sleep, the toned muscles are firm under your touch. Hardly the body you’d expect of a mousy souvenir vendor spending all his day in front of a till at the British museum. 

In front of you, his eyes are fluttering behind closed lids, and you’re afraid of what will happen when he opens them. Is he going to greet you with sleepy murmurs and a sweet shy smile? Or will there be that snide, callous smirk across his lips again? 

Every instinct is screaming at you to leave now before the answer presents itself. There’s a reason why there are so many cautionary tales about women prying into the secrets that men are trying to hide. Every version of that story ends with the woman ultimately punished for their curiosity. 

Part of you just doesn't want to find out. You have no desire to play the role of Bluebeard’s wife and find yourself at the end of an axe. But the logical, responsible part of you, the one who wants to build a long-lasting, adult relationship with Steven, knows that you’ll have to face this eventually, and sooner is better than later.

Who is sleeping on top of you right now? Steven? Or is it the other man? The stranger, who is very much not your Steven. 

You don’t know what you’re planning to do until you feel the warmth of his skin against the pads of your thumb and index finger. All you know is that you need to know. 

Taking a deep breath, you squeeze your eyes shut, brace yourself, and pinch down hard on the soft flesh between your fingers. 

A pained yelp sounds out in your bedroom. His body jolts up and away from you, the mattress bouncing from the sudden movement. You squint your eyes open to see wide eyes gazing back at you. 

“Sorry, sorry.” His words are a slur as he wipes an errant line of drool from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. 

The constriction in your chest dissipates. It’s your Steven. 

“Did I fall asleep on you?” he asks around a large yawn, “Guess I must’ve. Sorry about that, love.” 

You shake your head, and heat spreads across your cheeks at how silly you’re being. Of course, it’s Steven. Why on earth did you think otherwise? 

Next to you, Steven’s already fluffing up the pillow on your side making it comfortable for you both as he adjusts himself from where he’s slumped against the bed in an effort to stay awake this time. 

You watch him as he’s settling back next to you. There's no sign of irritation from him, as if you didn’t just cruelly wake him up for no good reason. His eyes remain steadfast on the screen where dolphins are playing catch, but it’s evident that he’s exhausted. It is only a matter of minutes before his head lolls forward, the gravitation of sleep luring him back in. 

“Steven, it’s okay. You can–” You hesitate, then steel yourself and make the offer anyway, “You can stay here tonight. You should go to sleep. You have work tomorrow.” 

“Just a little bit longer,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t want to sleep just yet. If I could, I’d want to stay awake until morning. ‘Til you’re up." 

Between the yawn that contorts his face and the soft stray curl bouncing on his forehead, any unease you felt seconds ago is gone. All you can do is smile at him. God, he’s absolutely adorable, isn’t he? 

“Yeah? And why’s that?” 

His eyes flutter closed, and for a second, you think he’s gone back to sleep, but then he strains them open again, only part-way managing. He looks like he’s barely awake, and his voice is so quiet it’s almost a whisper. “Don’t want to wake up to find you’re gone again.”

Your smile fades at that, and he must feel you tense because he shakes his head quickly.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have– I know you don’t like to talk about it– sorry.” He bites down on his lower lip, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Oh. Oh no. You thought he’d just forgotten and moved past it. But it’s clear now, with his midnight confession, that it still plagues him. His only reason for not bringing it up was to not upset you. 

In your own ways, you’re both still reeling from the events of your first night together. For all the lovely love declarations that were made, resolutions are not found at the end of the love rainbow. 

What can you say to him in this situation? That you did say goodbye that night; he just didn’t remember it? He’d think you were a complete nutter. Or accusing him of being one, and you don’t know which is worse. 

How can you tell him what’s happening when you don’t understand it yourself?

“Steven, we… um… we need to talk.”

His eyes widen, all traces of sleep vanished in an instant. “Oh god, you're breaking up with me, aren't you?” 

You blink in confusion and it takes several moments for you to recalibrate your brain before you can process the sudden panic in his voice. 

Oh, shit. Of course that’s what he’d think when you’ve chosen to open with the ultimate break up line. Bollocks. Not off to a great start, are you? Clearly you should’ve thought this through a bit more, but it’s too late now. 

“No. No, Steven. Not that kind of talk. I’m not breaking up with you,” you interrupt, cutting him off before he can spiral further. It's a little heartbreaking that he’s still so insecure. “That’s the opposite of what I want to tell you.”

Steven’s brows knit in confusion, a bewildered expression bleeding onto his face. 

“You want to tell me that… That I’m…. breaking up with you?” He starts out slowly and incredulously, but a warm smile quickly spreads across his face. The amount of open affection there steals your breath. “Now I know for a fact that is not the case.”

You huff out a surprised laugh, shaking your head “No, Steven. Definitely not that.”  

“Well then, what is it you want to tell me?” He’s still smiling, but you can see the shadow of fear in his eyes.

“Well, um…” 

You pause, trying to gather your thoughts. In the background, Attenborough’s voice is now droning on about turtles shagging. It's distracting to say the least. 

“Hang on a tic.” You blindly fumbling for the TV remote behind you, eventually managing to turn the bloody thing off. “Right. There. Now, just listen for a moment, please?”

Steven obediently falls silent, watching you expectantly.  You take a deep breath, trying to sort out what you’re going to say, and realise that you have no idea how to begin this conversation. 

‘I woke up, and you were speaking with an American accent.’ 

That won't make a lick of sense.

“Well… um… Remember that first night? Our first night… together?” 

At the reminder, those signature wide brown eyes of his darken, boring into your own as his pupils dilate.

“Yeah, I definitely remember that,” he says, voice still hoarse from sleep. Your cheeks heat as you remember staring down into those eyes, just barely visible as his mouth devoured you, hot and hungry. “Don’t think I could ever forget.”

The words are sweet, but they hit you like a bucket of cold water to the face, because that’s just the problem, isn’t it? He doesn’t remember.

“Except, well– you did forget.”

“I did forge–? What? What d’you mean, love?” He tilts his head in confusion. “What did I–?” His words trails off mid-sentence, as he looks away from you, squinting at the black screen of the telly. He huffs out a small laugh, but it’s so obviously forced that it’s almost painful to hear, and it does nothing to mask his lack of composure.

God, is this even a good idea? What if he doesn’t believe you? Or gets really upset? 

You watch Steven carefully, trying to get a sense of what he might be feeling, but his attention seems firmly focused on the telly, as though its empty screen might reveal the secrets of the universe. After a long moment, he shakes his head, eyeing the appliance suspiciously like it's done him some great wrong. 

Following his gaze, you try to see if there’s something amiss, but it’s just the same blank screen as before. Even when you lean in closer, all you see is the reflection of your own worried face peering back at you. 

Taking a deep breath, you reach out and touch Steven’s wrist to get his attention. He flinches at the touch as if startled, but then settles his attention on you. 

“So you said the other day that your memory is dodgy sometimes… That you do things you don’t remember doing? And sometimes you disappear for a while and don’t seem to remember being gone…?”

Steven nods absently, but even though he’s looking at you, he doesn’t quite seem to be following along. Despite the seriousness of your conversation, his eyes keep flitting back to the screen. 

“Steven!” you call out, snapping him out of whatever is distracting him.

He jolts back towards you, shoulders hunched with guilt. “Uhm– sorry, I thought I saw–” His eyes flicker to the screen again, but then he seems to think better of it, turning his head deliberately away and settling his eyes back on your face. 

Part of you is annoyed that his mind is seemingly faraway and he isn’t paying attention to you. This is not a conversation you are over the moon about either.  But as you watch him, you see the nervous tension in his face. It's there in the way he swallows convulsively, the way he doesn’t quite seem to know what to do with his hands, and you chide yourself for your own impatience. He’s clearly distressed. This can’t be easy for him to talk about. You soften your voice as you continue. 

“So then the other night…  I think it might have been a bit like that?  It was like…”

This time, it’s you who looks away, unable to look at his worried face any longer. You drop your gaze to the bedding, tracing the lines of the wrinkled sheet as you try to pluck up the courage to put your worries into words.

“You were… different. Not your usual self. You weren’t…”  You struggle to find the right words, not wanting to sound like you’re whinging or accusing him of anything. “Sorry. I’m not explaining this very well…”

God, you’re making an absolute hash of this, aren’t you? 

Looking up, you find Steven staring at the screen again. It’s like he’s drowning in his own reflection, face pale, eyes lost and confused. You’re not sure if he’s even hearing you at all. Maybe telling him this isn't the right thing to do. 

You drop your gaze back to the covers as you try to consider your options one last time before wading into the point of no return. You feel like you're standing in front of a locked chamber, key in hand. You can still turn back, go on with your relationship as it is, hoping that nothing will happen again (terrified that it will). 

But...There really isn’t another way around this anymore is there? You can’t keep pretending things are normal, that the reaper’s scythe isn’t looming over your relationship ready to fall at any moment. If you want this to work, this relationship you have with Steven, you will have to drag the figure that is lurking in the dark into the light. Unpleasant as it may be—scary even—you need to tell him, and there are no pretty, perfect words that can make this a more pleasant conversation. 

“Look, Steven, I didn’t leave your place before you woke up that first night. We were both awake in the middle of the night. I talked to you, but it was strange. Like you were somebody else. Like–” 

The rest of your sentence dies with a squeak of alarm when a heavy pressure seals firmly over your mouth, trapping the sound in your lungs. You jolt in surprise and rear back, trying to escape. 

You don’t get far. 

The iron grip of a large, strong hand is bridging the span of your mouth, fingers digging almost painfully into the sides of your jaw. It's keeping you motionless and unable to pull away. 

In front of you, dark, narrowed eyes, slit in anger, are boring into yours. Whatever you were intending to say dies on your lips as he hisses out a single word of warning. 

“Don’t.” 

This is not your Steven. 

You try to protest, but all that comes out is an unintelligible noise muffled against the flat of his palm. 

The initial shock fades into indignation at being manhandled. You glower at him, squinting your eyes as you attempt to convey the depths of your scathing displeasure through your glare alone. 

The man seems unimpressed at best, unmoved by your poor attempt at defiance, as his eyes pin you down with an intimidating intensity. They’re less predatory than your first encounter but intimidating nevertheless. 

“Do not tell Steven,” he reiterates. His voice is flat and commanding, like he wants you to know his word is final with no room for debate. Nothing like Steven’s chipper tone. 

The harsh grip on your jaw gradually relaxes, and his hand slides slowly to the side. Despite the fact that logically you know this is not your Steven (can't possibly be), despite the fact that all your survival instincts are telling you to be careful, there is a part of you that has imprinted on the physicality of the man before you. Every nerve cell has been wired to respond to his touch. As his fingers slide across your lips, you feel the faint spark of attraction singing in your veins. And God, how fucked up is that? 

You should be scared shitless. This man is nothing but red flags, and you should probably turn around and run away from all of this. 

Instead, you think of Steven. Of how he’s never been able to lead a normal life with the small joys that are long due to him. Simply because he doesn’t know. A protectiveness swells up inside of you that overrides any self preservation instinct you have for your own safety.

So despite yourself, the next words coming out of you are: “He deserves to know.”

Not-Steven, closes his eyes as if your very words are embedding a deep-seated migraine in his skull. “Don’t. He’s alright as he is. ” 

“That’s not for you to decide.” 

“Trust me on this. I’ve known Steven a lot longer than you have. He doesn’t need my mess.”

"He's got it though, hasn't he?” you exclaim before you can think better of it, your voice loud and sharp in the silence of the flat.  

His eyes, dark and intense flit over your face, and you find yourself sitting up straighter and lifting your chin defiantly. In for a penny in for a pound. 

“He's exhausted all the time. Missing hours, sometimes days of his life. Constantly in danger of losing his job, his flat… his girlfriend.” You think of the nasty wounds you saw on Steven's chest, black-blue bruises marring his soft skin on your first night together. “Maybe even his life for all he knows!” 

You’re suddenly furious at the unfairness of it all. At the shit hand Steven’s been dealt; at all the people who never gave him a second chance when he messed up because of it; and most of all, at the man in front of you watching you with a furrowed brow and a belligerent set to his jaw. This bloody wanker who is asking you to lie to the man you love about something that’s making him unhappy. 

You have to pause and take a deep breath before you’re sure you’ll be able to continue civilly.

"He's got the mess already. Your. Fucking. Mess," you say, quieter now, but with no less anger brimming in your chest despite your efforts, "and he deserves to know why."

There’s no answer. He’s just staring at you in silence. You press on before you lose your nerve. 

“You’re asking me to trust you, but I don’t even know you. Not a single thing about you. The only thing I know is that you’re not Steven.”

The man looks to his feet, frustrated, and for the first time the forcefulness of his voice cracks. It's almost pleading despite the frustration that runs deep. “Steven deserves to be happy. A happy, simple, normal life. That ends the moment you tell him.” 

You hesitate, and the two of you stare at each other for a long moment. Both firm in your conviction that you have the right of it, neither one willing to back down.

“Marc,” he mutters. 

“I’m sorry?”

“My name. It’s Marc.” He spits it out with impatience, like you’ve dragged it out of him and he’s begrudgingly been forced to say it when you haven’t even asked for it. 

“Pleasure,” you say on instinct, then think better of it. “Well, sort of anyway. But that’s not what I need from you.”

Right now, in this moment, he looks more like a sullen child than the intimidating person you had taken him for just seconds ago. “Then tell me what you need,” he demands, “because I can’t have you dragging Steven into all this.” 

The command draws you up short because in all honesty, you don’t know. Should your needs even factor into this? It’s Steven’s needs that are the priority first and foremost. But... does Steven even want to know? What if this Marc is right? What if whatever’s happening—this mess that Marc keeps referring to—is something that Steven would be happier not knowing about? What is the right decision in a messy situation like this? 

The honest answer is you don’t know. 

The only thing you do know, the most important factor in this ridiculously complicated puzzle that you’re unable to solve is Steven’s safety. 

“I need to know that when you disappear and go off to wherever it is you go and do…”—you wave your hands at him vaguely—”whatever it is you do that makes Steven disappear for days, that he’s safe. Steven that is. I need some reassurance that Steven will be okay. It’s his body too.”

“You’ll keep all this a secret from Steven if I let you know he's safe?” Those familiar dark eyes bore into yours with an unfamiliar intensity.

You hesitate, not sure you’re making the right choice, but what other choice is there? 

“For now, at least,” you acquiesce with a nod.

He doesn't nod back, and there's no physical cue from him that he's accepting the bargain you're proposing to him. Instead, he turns away from you, leaning over to reach for something on your nightstand. When he turns back, he’s holding a pen.

“Give me your hand,” he orders flatly.  

You hesitate, then extend your hand slowly, offering it to him.

He takes it, his touch surprisingly delicate compared to the tight grip he had on your face earlier. His fingers are warm–almost hot–against your skin as he holds your hand in his and starts scribbling on your palm. 

It tickles, but you don’t let yourself squirm, craning your neck to watch him curiously as a long string of numbers appears.

Finally he finishes, capping the pen one-handed and tossing it back onto the nightstand. Then he turns your hand over in his and looks up at you.

You meet his gaze just in time to see the change happen: narrowed eyes rounding into large saucers. The sullen anger etched into every line of that chiselled face fading into a warm vulnerable softness. And there he is, your Steven is back. 

“Sorry, were you saying something? I’m sorry, I think I must have slipped off somewhere for a second there.” 

If only he knew how right he was.

You shake your head, lacing your fingers with his, and clasp his hands in yours. “It’s alright. I was just saying that it’s probably time for us to get some sleep.” 

Steven’s lips tighten into a frowning line, clearly dubious of your answer. Even before he turns those big, round puppy-dog eyes on you, you feel the guilt in you fester. 

“Is it… um…”  he hesitates, and the uncertainty on his face breaks your heart all over again,  “Would it be alright if I sleep here tonight? I don’t want to intrude, but I’d really like to stay. So we can wake up together in the morning.” 

You want to say yes to him. You really do. But you’re still caught up in the emotional whiplash from the surrealistic events that unfolded in this very bed mere moments ago, your brain is trying to make sense of everything that happened. You don’t even know how to begin to answer him right now.

You’re sure you won’t be able to catch an ounce of sleep with him here. 

But hell, you’re not sure you’ll catch an ounce of sleep with him gone either. So you fake a smile as best you can, because maybe if you manage to convince Steven, you can convince yourself that everything is alright. 

“I’ll make you breakfast in the morning,” he throws in as an offer and you can’t help the way your smile melts into something real at the hopefulness of his tone. 

“That sounds lovely, Steven.”

His smile spreads wider, then he scoots down to lay in the bed. You follow until you are lying on your side, with your ear pressed to your pillow as you find yourself looking up at Steven’s face. His features are soft and gentle and all so familiar as he closes the distance between you and presses his forehead to yours. 

Maybe it’s just the adrenaline leaving your system, but somehow, despite the events of this evening, as Steven wraps his arms around you, you realise just how tired you are, and you let yourself succumb to it. Closing your eyes, you snuggle in closer to his chest, surrounded by his warmth and scent. As you drift to sleep, your last conscious thought is that you need to remember to write down the numbers on your palm in the morning in case it smudges. 

When you wake the next morning, blankets drawn up warm around your shoulders, it’s to an empty bed. Steven is no longer there. 

~ Continue ~

Author's note

This has truly been 84 years, and thank you to everyone who's still reading this. A big part of the delay (besides various irl factors such as me moving internationally) was that we wanted pre-write the whole series before we posted this next part to make sure that we don't just leave readers on a cliffhanger of an unfinished series. The first draft of the series is 90% done now. The rest of the parts should not take months in between to be posted (watch me jinx myself and get hit by a bus by saying this).

Big heartfelt thanks for everyone who has taken the time to read this series, and a special thanks to those who have gone above and beyond to comment/reblogged to let us know their thoughts and that they enjoyed the series. I know I'm rubbish at replying sometimes, but please know that we read these and absolutely gush like a little girl with a crush squeeing in excitement.

Dedications

I have a lot of people to thank for, while I've been trying to pound out the complete draft of this series: @jazzelsaur @radiowallet @write-and-buried @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @frannyzooey are just but some people who have been holding my hand when I've been screaming into the ether, duckrubbing and helping me with both plots, cockulations and vibes.

But most of all, I need to take time to thank my co-author, @thirstworldproblemss for bearing with me and humoring my roller coaster of -- despair, crying, laughing, more crying, debilitating horniness, utter despair again-- that has been me while we've been writing this one.

For listening to me whine and bitch and whine about furniture choices and sending 20 photos of the same damn reading chair in different shades of pink.

For not killing me when I keep giving her second by second live updates on how my ebay auctions for dinnerware sets that looks like vegetables.

For withstanding the weekly photobombs of replacement plants from Columbia Road, because I keep killing the ones I have.

For being the best friend a clown could ask for. Your presence in my life is one of the most precious and joyous things I could ever have asked for.

[lilly-chou-chou]

Evolution of Gyaru

Hello everyone the long awaited post is here!! Sorry for the delay I has gone back to my he country to celebrate Lunar New Year.

As we all know Gyaru was and still is one of the most important fashion movement in the history because it's roots of opposing the "good girl" and "submissive" societal views of women that Japan had imposed into them.

During 90's with Namie Amuro being the first idol ever to popularize the Gyaru culture created a huge wave of community in all over Japan which eventually created many subcultures under it, over the years gyarus blossomed for 2 decades heavily but around early-mid 2010's the culture slowly died because people were now really trying to shun them out of the society, gyarus was losing it's popularity and old gyarus were getting to age of finding jobs or trying to get married yet the culture is still alive. There have been multiple support and love coming from international fans too.

Egg magazine, which is holy grail for us gyarus followers is still up and running to this day <3

Today i'll show you just a little glimpse of modern gyaru. Hopefully this will help new followers too.

Gyaru of the past:-

So let's start with how gyarus are usually seen, pictures below are gyarus from their peak eras so definitely from 90's to 2000's. They are all different subcultures but they all have one thing in common the eye makeup, gyarus were and are still known for their beautiful luscious eye makeup. They are what you call

They were our guide, our mothers and everything! Gyaru has always been the most supportive community to ever exist, over here women were allowed to cuss, they were allowed to be brash, they were allowed to have male friends without the judgement of two goody shoes with insecurities, they were allowed to wear clothes that liberated them doesn't matter short or modest.

People often forget that gyaru exists more than manba, agejo and kogal, few of the modest and lesser knows subcultures are amekaji and roma gyaru, although amekaji is is blue eyed perfect grass is greener on the other side take of American inspired fashion. Either way it is one of the most fun subculture to exist.

We as gyaru followers ow everything to these past mother figures, without them and without brands like alba rosa, D.I.A and MA*RS we and egg Magazine teaching us what? How? And why? We would never thrive in this era. We owe it to them all even after decades and decades the magazines, scans and tutorials on YouTube by the OG gyarus have done it all <3

Modern Gyaru:-

The pictures below are the present models of Egg magazine. The last OG gyaru issue was stopped in 2014 which was Egg last physical print of magazine but in 2018 Egg came back as online magazine.

A lot has changed in gyaru world. Long gone are the days of owning specific clothing brand or even wearing clothes that resemble even the least of typical gyaru fashion. The only key point which hasn't changed is eye makeup because that is utmost necessary thing for a gyal to have.

Over the years of almost dying to again alive fashion culture the meaning of gyaru has changed a lot, from dressing like the OG gyarus we have now evolved to the whole "gal is mind" mindset, now in this era dressing up as gyal doesn't mean that much because you can still have pointy acrylic nails, iconic eye makeup, wear casual clothes and still be a gyaru.

These days even the gyaru slangs have changed so much like instead of poyo, atonsu, pachikoku now we use yarirafi, kyun-desu, daijuobu-so?, tobu-zo and so on.

Although there are egg models that still somewhat follow OG gyaru fashion like @ / mahiroisme (left) and @ / kae. 06256 (right) on IG.

Conclusion:-

By this post I just wanted to show that as time passes it is inevitable that everything changes and fashion changing is a no brainer. What is hate is companies capitalizing and making their own rules for lure in newbies gyals who would do anything to "fit in" and ring the nostalgia bell for old gyarus and all I have to say is that no, you don't have to spend 100-500$ on eBay trying to find the OG gyaru brands because you can definitely wear your own casual clothes and still be a gyaru because if egg magazine who raised whole generation of x gen, millennials and Gen Z of gyarus then who are we to judge them?

Although if you still wish to dress up like OG then I definitely recommend finding clothes that match the subculture that you want to follow for example I follow agejo, Tsuyome and kogal so I shop in Amazon, local stores, Instagram stores, I order clothes fr abroad the most helpful and fast way to do that finding a vendor and my vendors are all from Instagram. Hope this helps.

I will meet you all in my next post bye gyals <3

[rowretro]

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧

WARNINGS: A lil abuse, toxic/yandere themes ofc

✧taglist✧: @heeseung-min @jaeneohee @lovingvoidgoatee @neruishoon (anyone I may have missed)

✧CHAPTER 15✧

Sunghoon’s hand was planted on the girl’s neck, his grip tightening, as he glared at her darkly. “Not only did you try to fucking run… but you took the kids too?! MY kids?!!!” He seethed through gritted teeth. His little minuscule droplets of spit hitting her face as he yelled at her. The babies were upstairs, fast asleep in the safety of the nursery Sunghoon securely designed and kept beside their shared bedroom.

Y/n felt like a fool. He was so sweet, so charming, he swore he wouldn’t do it again, and she believed it. Yet she saw him stabbing a man to death. She didn’t know why. She doesn’t even know the man. Maybe seen him around a few times, but how does that piss Sunghoon off. “Sunghoon I’m fucking scared” She finally said as he let go of her throat, landing a painful slap on cheek. “Scared of what y/n?! I told you. You’re already in the safety of my arms” Sunghoon.

“I don’t like seeing you kill… y-you know? I fear you’ll hurt the kids the way you hurt me…” Y/n said, staring at the ground as Sunghoon’s  eyes widened.  “Y/n you really need to give me more credit than this. They have you 90% of the time, heck they’ll be doing many things that’ll piss me off in the years yet to come, boyfriends, revealing clothes, attitude. You think I will abuse my kids?!!!” Sunghoon asked as y/n stared up at him in shock, his fingers gripping her jaw tightly.

She stayed silent “You’re the only one I’ll ever hurt, I’ll hit you, I’ll kiss you, I’ll fuck you, because you are fucking mine y/n. Those kids are a product of our love darling… I’ll never hit my motherfucking kids.” Sunghoon yelled, his eyes telling her how sincere he truly was. “Everything I do… is purely because I'm crazy in love with you y/n… I just want to protect you, there are so many dangers out there my love…” Sunghoon explained. 

There it is again, those guilty tears and regret-filled whimpers “m sorry hoon…” she cried, hugging him.  She fell for his lies yet again. Hoon would have kept her locked in the basement like the old days, but now the babies are there, he knows she needs to be around them 24/7. Right on cue the crying of the babies was heard. 

Sunghoon softly pushed her toward the staircase as she walked upstairs to the baby room, Sunghoon following behind her. How stupid. Why did she even think that running away was going to solve anything? What would she have done if she did run away anyway?

The girl silently fed the babies one by one, the 2 now wide awake. Anaya babbled as she reached her arms up to Sunghoon, making grabby hands, the male smiled “wait a second sweety, I’m covered in cherry sauce-” Sunghoon said as he took off his shirt and went to the restroom. Y/n sniffled softly, still feeding Avaani as she kept an eye on Anaya, who was using a soft, alphabet block to hit another alphabet block, as an attempt to build. 

She glanced down at the fresh wounds on her thighs, and back at Anaya. Maybe all this pain was worth it after all. Sunghoon walked out after taking a quick shower, his clothes clean as he softly pulled baby Avaani away from y/n “Go clean up. I’ll treat your wounds after you shower.” He coldly said. Without further ado, the girl silently went to the restroom, to take a quick shower.

Avaani screamed out of the blue, giggling at Sunghoon’s reaction to her scream, seeing this Anaya, threw an alphabet block at her “No- not hitting your sister Anaya-” Sunghoon softly warned as Avaani giggled. “It’s a good thing your mommy got you the soft plush blocks.” he mumbled as he got up, walking back to the bed with a first aid kit, to treat the girl’s wounds.

"Fuck that looks so fucking painful princess... you won't run away again will you?" Sunghoon asked, his eyes meeting hers for a second as she nodded "I-I won't..." she replied, her voice barely a whisper. The male snickerred as he plasterred and bandaged the wounds. "You know what's funny?! the worst wounds are the ones you got from running away. not from my punishment." Sunghoon said finding it pretty amusing.

Anaya whined again, making grabby hands at Sunghoon seeing him kiss y/n's lips. The male picked her up and started carrying her around like an aeroplane. All the while, Avaani was staring at her reflection in the mirror, poking it. "Babe- look at Avaani-" y/n whisperred as the male snuggled Anaya, rocking her softly.

"Video her, she's so cute-" Sunghoon snickerred as Y/N did just that, the baby frowned at the mirror, then smacked it, then she whined. It was a matter of time before she started crying at her own reflection. Sunghoon gave Anaya to y/n, as he picked up Avaani, rocking her softly.

"Don't cry sweety, it's just a mirror, it shows you your reflection- that baby is you- aren't you so pretty?" Sunghoon said in a baby voice, kissing her nose, as the baby sniffled, staring at him. "Babe... what should we do for your birthdays?..." the girl asked as he turned to her, sitting beside her with Avaani in his hands.

"Well I was thinking, we can celebrate the babies' birthdays during the day, and we can just go out for a nice romantic dinner in the evening while Heeseung and Ryujin babysit our kids... We haven't had enough time to ourselves, all I really want is to spend time with you" Sunghoon said, and on cue, Avaani threw up on him. "Kay now I need to clean up so-" The male sighed, using the baby's cloth to wipe her mouth and slipped off his shirt.

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧