#Beam Dyeing

[sealrock]

my revamped au for achille has become canon and I must apologize in advance for the suffering he must go through

[giyuulatte]

i’ve been wanting to cut my hair and go natural for MONTHS now bc i feel like it’s a journey i need to go on to get more in touch with myself

but i’m deadass so scared bc i haven’t been natural in years and i have thick 4c hair

but i feel like this a an important part of me fully becoming myself like what to do

[unnocturnal]

styled him based off the visual kei fashion style... since... YKNOW..... WINK WINK

[bratbby333]

jjk camp counselor au

nsfw brain dump, multiple x reader feat: satoru, suguru, nanami, toji, sukuna, shoko + choso summary: you're a camp counselor trying to make the most of your summer

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

satoru would definitely be the one to lead the rallies each morning, he's so charismatic and domineering. he'd also be in charge of the 15-17 year old group (obvi). he'll blatantly flirt with the other female counselors in front of you to make you jealous, sneaking away to the woods while the kids are eating lunch to apologize to you while balls deep inside you...summer fling energy fr

"i-im sorry...promise...it was nothin...meant n-nothing 't me" he pants out, seeing the irritated look on your face as you glare at him from over your shoulder, arms bracing your body against a tree, your jean shorts down by your ankles, panties shoved to the side. "shut up and keep fucking me, satoru," you roll your eyes in response. "show me how sorry you are," your demanding voice wavering slightly, stifling your moans so he doesn't know how good it feels, trying to keep up your annoyed facade. but god does he feel amazing, his tip stimulating your sweet spot with every stroke. he fucks you so much better when he thinks he's in trouble...he's a whining, whimpering mess for you power bottom!gojo supremacy

suguru is most definitely the chill instructor, leading the more creative activities; arts n crafts like tie-dye, making jewelry, etc. all the kids love him, too. he'd beam with pride as they run up to him to show him what they were able to create. he'd profess his feelings for you with a handmade, beaded bracelet.

you sneak out of the women's cabin in the middle of the night to meet up with suguru, finding him sat on the crest of a hill with a blanket laid out to watch the stars "suguru...this is precious," you gasp, eyes bright with adoration, taking a seat next time him, your legs kicked out in front of you and your arms propping you up. - "what about the kids? what if they see us?" you ask, concern plastered across your face, your legs wrapped around his waist, hands secured behind his neck, fingers tangling in his long hair. "don't worry, love," he breaths out, pausing his strokes, his strong arms positioned on either side of your head, "nanami's watching mine and shoko's watching over yours...plus we're so far from camp, no one's gonna see us", he reassures you with his pelvis flush against your core. "you just look so beautiful like this, i couldn't resist" he'd moan out, returning to his initial pace, thrusting deep and slow, the blanket he had laid out now disheveled. the moonlight bounces off your skin in the most ethereal way, and suguru can't get enough of you.

nanami would be in charge of the whole camp, carefully organizing everyone's permission slips, allergy forms and medical records (which were alphabetized and given to shoko), the payments from parents, the whole nine yards; ensuring everything ran smoothly. he would also be the one supervising the obstacle courses. he'd carefully and methodically strap the kids into their harnesses, surveying everyone intently...do you really think he'd trust the other dummies he works with to do so?

and of course he'd find a way to repurpose the harnesses as restraints in the privacy of the men's cabin with you, the two of you slipping away during one of satoru's overly energetic pep rallies. "ken...what if someone catches us?" you moan out, your arms secured behind you, your back arched, and your chest pressed against the mattress. his deep, purposeful strokes continue, his voice steady as he repsonds. "don't worry, love. we made the mistake of giving satoru the mic, he'll talk for hours if you let him...now hush and let me take care of you, yeah?" you nod back before moaning loudly, the depth of his cock in this position is hitting spots you didn't know existed. "you're taking me so well. such a good girl for me," he groans out, his trust speeding up, the sounds you're making for him spurring him on.

toji would be in charge of the more physical intramurals; dodgeball, kickball, archery, and life guard on duty for the water activities.

and god did he look good while patrolling the waters, his broad shoulders and tanned skin glowing under the summer sun, his wet swim trunks clinging to his thick, muscular thighs. you watch him from your beach chair, legs clenching and core pulsing at the sight of his sternly focused face, his eyes running up and down the lake, his body glistening from the droplets of water trickling from his damp hair. you're glad shoko is more attentive with the kids because your mind is elsewhere (and for a valid reason, too). - after the kids are sent to get changed into their dry clothes, he absolutely obliterates you in the boat house. "saw you watchin' me the whole time...this what you needed, love?" he'd ask through gritted teeth, his thrusts hard and deep, his thick cock stretching you out perfectly. you whimper in response, eyes low, mouth agape, nodding profusely as his fingers dig deeper into your hipbones. "uh huh..needed you so bad, toji," you whine out. baywatch!toji has me putting my fist in my mouth

sukuna would not get hired because the organizers were afraid that he'd try to create a child army and illicit a rebellion to overthrow the camp counsellors, creating a dystopian society where the kids tend to the land and run his errands for him. bummer... ruined his summer plans.

shoko helps you run the girl's cabin. she also works the first aid tent during the day, her long hair tied back to keep her cool. you lean up against a tree, admiring her beauty. you're pulled from your daydream when gojo elbows you in the side, shooting you an amused look; "go make a move, she likes women, ya know?" wiggling his eyebrows at you before running off to frolic in the water with his group.

the two of you sneak away during the bonfire, finding yourself in her bunk, laid on your back with her soft tongue attacking your clit. "sho, i'm close," you gasp out, your hands tangling in her auburn hair. she hums in response, the vibrations pushing you even closer to your release. you cry out for her, the pleasure coursing through you is overwhelming your senses. she uses one hand to cover your mouth, the other swipes between your folds before inserting two finger into your dripping cunt, curling slightly to massage your g-spot. your hips buck against her mouth, before you spill all over her tongue from the added stimulation. as you try to regain your breath, she leans over you and places two fingers against your neck. you gaze up at her through dazed eyes, shooting her a questioning look. "just checkin' your pulse, thought i was losin' you," she laughs.

choso takes his job very seriously, basically a helicopter parent while watching the kids...he's so protective of the children, treating them as if they were his own siblings. he stops dead in his tracks when he first lays eyes on you, watching you interact with your group; you are so sweet with your kids, tenderhearted and caring...he falls in love almost immediately and all he wants is to get close to you.

his soft, slow strokes make you giggle into his ear. everyone's in the mess hall for dinner, leaving the cabin empty, the once silent building now filled with your moans. "cho, you can be rougher with me," you sigh out, pulling him deeper into you, groaning at the stretch of his fully engulfed member. he buries his head into the crook of your neck, a long moan leaving his parted lips as he bottoms out against you. his cheeks flush to a bright red...you swear you can feel the heat emanating off them. "i know...jus' scared i'll cum fast if i go harder...you're just so pretty...so fuckin' sweet, angel," he whimpers out. he paws at every inch of you, his strokes getting more frantic, kissing your cheeks delicately and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

author notes: this made me giggle so much while writing. i love doing short form AUs, theyre so entertaining to me. sorry about sukuna's i was feeling unhinged when i wrote it

if u have any requests, feel free to send them my way! here's the link to my inbox ☺︎ leave an emoji if you want to be added to my anon club, or send it with your url and i'll credit you!

i really liked this idea and im considering making it a longer story, but i only wanna focus on one character x reader...leave a comment with who you'd want it to be with! (counselor!gojo is calling to me, but what do y'all think?)

thank you all for your love and support on my work...i literally tear up when i get the notifications. i'm so honored that y'all find my writing enjoyable enough to interact ❤︎

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[ichorai]

cheesepie ; miles morales.

pairing ; miles morales x gn!reader

synopsis ; miles was the warm kind of nostalgia, like playing video games at three in the morning while whisper-yelling insults at each other, or dyeing each other’s hair horrendous bright colors in his tiny bathroom with cheap dye from the drugstore down the street, or standing on his apartment’s rooftop to stargaze the light-polluted sky of brooklyn.

words ; 3.1k

themes ; childhood friends to kinda-lovers, fluff, mild angst, slice of life

warnings / includes ; cursing, miles' parents are adorable and i love them, lots of playful banter, a bit emotional near the end, let's pretend miles still lives at home with his parents and not at the prep school

main masterlist.

The tip of Miles’ tongue poked slightly out of the corner of his mouth as he cocked his hand back, a grape pinched between his pointer finger and thumb. “Lean back a little,” he told you, narrowing his eyes in concentration.

You did as he asked, jaw wide open, prepared to catch. 

He took another moment to readjust, and you rolled your eyes. 

Right as he tossed the grape, you barked out in frustration, “Just throw it already!”

The cold fruit bounced right off the side of your lips and landed on the floor with a quiet thud. You blinked in shock. 

Miles glared at you.

Then he smiled. 

“You’re a lousy catcher,” he said, boyish peals of laughter echoing from his chest. With a sigh, he collapsed into his bed, crossing his legs and propping his head up with both his arms. 

“Maybe you’re just a lousy thrower,” you replied easily, slinking across the room to sink into the mattress beside him, mimicking his position. 

The two of you were far too large for his small bed—his long, gangly limbs awkwardly knocked against yours and you had to bump your hip into his to scooch him further to the edge so you’d have more space.

“Stop hogging my bed,” Miles snarked with no real malice to his words—in fact, he was beaming goofily, watching you with amusement as you grumbled under your breath about how it wasn’t your fault his bed was so narrow. 

Your socked foot kicked him in the shin. He retaliated by elbowing you in the ribs. “When was the last time you changed your sheets?”

Miles stuck his tongue out at you. “You don’t wanna know.”

“Ew,” you said, but didn’t bother moving. “You’re gross.”

The boy laying beside you reached out to blindly ruffle your hair, nearly poking your eyes out in the process. “Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself.”

A comfortable silence stretched over the two of you, and you couldn’t help but revel in the overwhelming sense of nostalgia that clawed up your throat. The warm kind of nostalgia, like playing video games at three in the morning while whisper-yelling insults at each other, or dyeing each other’s hair horrendous bright colors in his tiny bathroom with cheap dye from the drugstore down the street, or standing on his apartment’s rooftop to stargaze the light-polluted sky of Brooklyn and crown new constellations stupid names like ‘Snail Eating a Peanut Butter Sandwich’ or ‘Darth Vader Wearing Lady Gaga’s Meat Dress’. 

It was the kind of nostalgia that made you miss a time that wasn’t yet over.

“Miles,” you whispered, staring at the bumps of his popcorn ceiling. He hummed faintly in reply. “Do you think you’re going to stay here for the rest of your life?”

When he didn’t answer, you lolled your head to your side to look at him, brows furrowed. You were surprised to see that he was looking right at you with an indiscernible gaze, as if he was in a trance of some sort. 

“Miles?” 

He only snapped out of it when you flicked his forehead, and he balked forward, yelping out in half-shock, half-pain. A sheepish grin etched plainly across his lips.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“Just say you weren’t listening to me and leave.” With a chortle of a laugh, you shoved your palm straight into his beaming face and pushed his head so he was forced to look away from you. “Nevermind, you idiot. It was nothing.”

You jogged up the narrow stairs to Miles’ apartment door, slightly out of breath, and rang the doorbell. No less than a minute later, his dad swung the door open, already dressed in his police uniform. A bagel was sandwiched between his teeth and his hat sat crooked on his head, which made you guess that he was probably late for work (Miles definitely had the same habit of being tardy), but he ruffled your hair nonetheless, smiling at you from around the bagel. 

“Hey, Mr. Davis,” you greeted with a mirroring grin. “Is the birthday boy home?”

He tried to speak around the food, but Mrs. Morales popped her head out from behind him, smacking his shoulder with a stern glare. “Jeff! That’s disgusting—don’t speak to them with food in your mouth!” She looked to you, her expression melting into one of affection. “Sorry about that, honey. Come on in, Miles is in his room. Wake him up if he’s still asleep, will you? I swear, that boy would snore right through a hurricane. Oh, and ask him if he wants cake or pie for his birthday dessert—and don’t take ‘I don’t really mind’ for an answer.”

“Will do, Mrs. Morales.”

Side-stepping the playfully bickering couple, you bid them adieu with a mock salute before marching straight to Miles’ room down the hall. 

You reached into your bag to pull out the can of silly string you bought from the corner store just beside school, biting into your lip with anticipation. You popped the bright red lid off before knocking on the door.

Just as it swung open to reveal Miles with mussed hair and droopy eyelids, you pressed the nozzle with a wide grin and damp pink strings shot out, covering his face entirely. He wasn’t fazed at all, going so far as to yawn when you enthusiastically yelled out, “SURPRISE! Happy birthday, dude!”

He blinked, swiping the limp strings away from his eyes. A hint of a smile cracked through his sleepy expression.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to at least pretend to be surprised.”

“This is, like, the fifth year in a row, Y/N.”

“You love it,” you crooned, before launching yourself forward to envelop him in a hug. Miles immediately reciprocated, wrapping his arms around you tightly, making sure to nuzzle extra hard into your shoulder so the pink gunk on his face would rub into your clothes. 

“Thank you,” he whispered into you. “At least you didn’t launch those fake cockroaches at me again. That was a nightmare.”

A cackle fell from you as you pulled away, pinching his cheek fondly. “Noted. Saving that for next year, then. Here, I got you some things.”

He pushed his door open further so the two of you could amble in. You sat cross-legged on his bed, pulling your bag into your lap and rifling through its contents before you pulled out a cheap glittery card.

“Hope there’s money in here,” he quipped as he took it from you. Bits of blue glitter fell onto his comforter as he pried the card open, and he shot you a glare. It was clearly a card meant for a seven-year-old child, but in bright red sharpie, the number 1 was drawn in front of the 7, with a little heart and a smiley face below. If you hadn’t been watching him so intently, Miles was sure he would’ve teared up at the sweet gesture—despite you doing it every year for as long as he could remember. His voice cracked with unvocalized emotion when he croaked out, “There’s no money in here.”

You scoffed, punching his bicep weakly. “You’re an ass. Here, I made you this, too. Had to watch, like, a billion YouTube videos to learn how to crochet these. You’re welcome.”

Alright, maybe it was less than a billion, and a lot closer to five. But Miles didn’t need to know that.

Digging into your bag again, you fished out a long woolen scarf that had alternating black and vibrant purple stripes. You threw it straight into his face before pulling out yet another piece, which Miles noticed was a soft, lavender-hued beanie. 

“You made these for me?” Miles asked in surprise, his thumb running over the soft yarn of the scarf. 

“Duh doy,” you said, wrinkling your nose in amusement when he wrapped the scarf around his neck with a goofy grin. “Here—this is the last thing, I swear—but, I also got these for you. I know you’ve been wanting them for forever.”

With one final scrummage through your bag, you pulled out a pack of premium coloring pencils, which Miles scrambled to grab, his wide eyes darting between the colors and your fond gaze. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you got these for me. They’re so expensive, Y/N, you really shouldn’t have.”

“Well,” you said, slinging an arm around him, “I gotta support local artists, you know? And you are, by far, my favorite one.”

He placed the pencils down between you, and roped you into another proper hug, quietly murmuring his thanks into your hair. 

“Your mom wanted me to ask you if you wanted birthday cake or birthday pie this year,” you whispered into him, playing with the tassels at the end of his new scarf.

“I’m kinda feeling cheesecake this year.”

“Cheesecake is pie, Miles.”

“Then why isn’t it called cheesepie?”

“Because that sounds gross.”

“You sound gross.”

“You’re grosser.”

“You’re grosserer.”

“That’s not a word.”

Miles sighed into your hairline, tugging you closer. The two of you dropped your childish bickering as if it had never happened. “Thank you—for all this. I know I don’t tell you enough but, I… love you. Blegh. It’s so weird being sappy with you.”

He kept his hand to the back of your head so you wouldn’t be able to see his eyes tearing up. You heard him sniffling, so it was really pointless, anyway.

“I guess I love you, too. Idiot.”

“Smartass.”

“Nerd.”

The two of you laughed into each other.

“Happy birthday, Miles.”

A month passed by in a breeze. The two of you had rarely seen each other through the days because you had been loaded with work and Miles… Miles was busy. Apparently. You weren’t entirely sure with what exactly, but you didn’t really want to pry. He was a teenage boy—they were allowed to have their own little secrets if they wanted to. 

But it was the weekend, and you missed your best friend. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Miles’ dad greeted you as he swung the door open. He lifted a hand for a high five, and you playfully pressed your knuckles into his palm as if you were fist bumping him. He chuckled at your antics, before speaking again. “Miles is at school—some sort of art club, I think. Or maybe it was a science convention. I never know with him nowadays. Gonna have to ask him once he gets back. You can wait for him in his room—he should be back any minute now.”

“Alright,” you said, ambling down the hall. You waved to Mrs. Morales in the kitchen before slipping into his room, shutting the door behind you softly.

You kicked your shoes off as you crawled onto his bed, curling into a ball and brandished your phone out of your pocket, texting Miles. 

yo bitch wya ur dad said you were at a science convention? bfr ik ur lying

After hesitating for a moment, you sent another text.

i miss you

You sighed, tossing your phone somewhere beside you and stared up at his popcorn ceiling. Boredom eating you away, you reached over to his table to grab one of the haphazardly strewn comic books, aimlessly flipping through the colorful graphics. You were wondering why the story was so familiar until you realized that this was your comic book that Miles had swiped from your room nearly a month ago. 

A loose sheet of paper fell out the back, and you sat up against his headboard, tilting your head curiously. 

Oh. 

It was a drawing of you. 

Your eyebrows raised as you studied the colorful sketch—seemingly done with the nice pencils you’d given him for his birthday—and looked like it was done in a hurry, but it was effortlessly beautiful nonetheless.

You were smiling widely in the drawing, holding up a peace sign. Miles had somehow even remembered the small scar across your nose bridge from that time when he had accidentally thrown a basketball straight into your face a year ago. 

“Oh, Miles,” you whispered softly, tracing the intricate lines with a finger.

As if on cue, the window beside his desk slid open, and in crawled… Spider-Man?

But Spider-Man—Peter Parker—was dead. The two of you had gone to listen to MJ Parker’s remembrance speech together a couple years ago. And Spider-Man had a blue and red suit.

This wasn’t Spider-Man. At least, not the one that you knew. 

The figure, frozen halfway through the window, sported a sleek back and red spider suit. 

And, you recognized with wide eyes, the lavender beanie was pulled over his head, on top of the dark mask. 

You blinked, scrambling back on his bed. 

“Miles…?” you asked tentatively.

Your best friend, the one that you loved ever so dearly, slowly slid into his room, and shut the window behind him, before taking the mask off. His hair was rumpled and his features were slightly winded, but otherwise, he looked just the same.

Words failed to cohesively stick together as you struggled to ask him a proper question. “What are you… why are you…”

Miles pursed his lips. “I didn’t want you to know. Not this soon, at least.”

“Know what, Miles?”

He let out a long sigh, before backing up to the wall. He then proceeded to walk along his walls perfectly horizontal, as if his shoes were somehow suction-cupped to the plaster.

“What the fuck…” you whispered, staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes. “Miles, what the actual fuck? Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming.”

“You’re not dreaming.” He dropped back to the ground silently.

“So you’re… what? You’re Spider-Man, now?”

Miles shrugged. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”

“You have powers?”

Teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he nodded sheepishly. “Bitten by a radioactive spider a while ago.”

Hurt etched into your voice without you meaning to do so. “Why didn’t you tell me, Miles?”

“I didn’t…” he cut himself off, slumping into his chair. The brown of his eyes gleamed with inner conflict, unsure of what to tell you. “I didn’t want you to worry. So much has been happening, I just—I wanted you to be separate. I wanted you to be… away from all of that.”

The two of you were silent for a moment.

You squared your jaw.

“Okay.”

Miles looked up at you in surprise.

“Okay? What do you mean?”

“Okay as in—I’ll stay away from it all if you really want me to. Spider or not, you’re my best friend, Miles. Nothing will ever change that.” You pushed yourself off the bed to walk over to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, then promptly changed your mind, winding your arms around his torso and tugging him into a warm embrace. “But if you die out there… I’ll actually kill you. I’ll do it, Miles, I will.”

He laughed slightly, winding his lanky arms around you to return the hug. “I believe you. Thank you.”

“I love you,” you whispered, chin resting on his suit-clad shoulder. “Things are changing for both of us, Miles. And I need you to stay in my life.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, rubbing comforting circles into your back with his palm. There was a knot in his chest, and a lump in his throat. He felt the strange need to cry build up within him, but he kept the tears at bay for you. “I love you, too, you know.”

You hummed against him, sniffling slightly. “I know.”

“I saw your text. I miss you, too.”

“I know.”

“I love you,” Miles repeated, voice faltering slightly.

“I know?” you parroted, mildly confused.

He grasped your shoulders to pull you away, holding you at an arm’s length. The expression that melded over his handsome features was suddenly deadly serious. The abrupt change was jarring—it scared you. “Maybe not in a friend way, though.”

“Oh,” you whispered. You could feel your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. “I didn’t know that.”

A hot tear slipped down your cheek and your shoulders trembled as you staved off a hiccuping sob. Miles’ heart lurched, and he hurriedly swiped it away, afraid that he had completely ruined what the two of you had.

“Everything’s changing, Miles. You know I hate change. It’s all moving by too quickly.” Your expression crumpled as more tears began sliding down your face. “But I think I love you, too. Maybe not in a friend way. And that just… terrifies me.” 

Warmth from his palm radiated against your face even with the suit layered over his hand. He cupped your cheeks delicately, tilting his head as he studied you.

“Can I… can I try something? And if it doesn’t work out, we can just pretend it never happened and go back to being best friends. I promise.”

You weren’t stupid. You knew Miles wanted to kiss you.

“Okay,” you croaked.

And he did.

It wasn’t at all like how kisses were depicted in the movies. There were no fireworks, no explosive passion, and certainly no feverish desperation. Only bumping noses and gentle smiles and lips that tasted of salty tears. And it was perfect. 

“Hm. You’re a bad kisser,” Miles concluded in a joking tone, but dipped down to give you another kiss nonetheless.

You weren’t entirely sure where this left your relationship, and if you were being honest, you were a bit too scared to interrogate him for answers he probably also didn’t have. You didn’t want to ask for much—you were just happy to spend time with him and enjoy the last few precious remnants of teenagehood the two of you had left together. Miles meant the world to you, and you’d be damned if a radioactive spider got in the way of that.

Arching an eyebrow, you gestured to the looseleaf drawing you left on his bed. “And you’re a creep for drawing me without letting me know.”

Miles blanched. “I… hey! You were looking through my stuff?”

“It was in a comic book on the table. That you stole from me, remember?” Tugging him back to you, you leaned up to slant your lips onto his, smiling stupidly into the kiss. “Idiot.”

“Well, it takes one to know one,” he murmured against you, grinning so wide that it nearly split his face in two.

You shut him up by kissing him again.

[heembie]

𝐁𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌! ₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

𖦹ׂ 𓈒 🐇 જ⁀➴ riki helps you dye your hair on the floor of your bedroom, but did you really have to pick that color?

nishimura riki x fem!reader; wc 1.8k; genres pure fluff, established relationship; cw none; notes i edited a riki selca for this drabble who’s gonna congratulate me!!! + i listened to magnetic by illit 5000 times while writing

there’s a knock at your door, gentle, and then it’s swinging open, a chestnut colored blur with the tall, lanky figure of your blonde-haired boyfriend appearing behind it.

“‘kay, i got it,” he murmurs, slipping his shoes off and padding with socked feet over to where you’re sprawled on the floor of your bedroom. you push down against the carpet with your palms, groaning with the effort of having to sit up from the comfortable position you’d been in. riki sits down next to you, crossing his legs.

in his hand is a box of l’oreal hair dye, a light bubblegum pink. he fiddles with the packaging a little, his eyebrows furrowed as he tears the top part of the box off gently. you reach over in excitement, tongue poking out as you take the box from his hands and pull out the packet inside.

“it’s gonna look so cute,” you gush, reaching for the small extra bowl you and riki had brought into your room earlier when you’d bleached your hair. you’d long since opened the windows, the acrid smell of the bleach almost completely faded. it had been risky work, what with the running risk of dropping bleach onto the carpet, but you’d managed to pull through.

riki glances at you from the corner of his eye, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“i still can’t believe you want pink,” he murmurs, watching as you tear open the packet and pour the color into the bowl. he makes a face at the small mountain of rosy paste, the strings of his large, plush hoodie twirled around his finger. “it’s the worst color ever.”

you pout at him, handing the bowl to your boyfriend as per the usual routine.

“i think it’s pretty.” you maneuver your body around so that your back is facing riki, your freshly bleached hair freed from any elastics. “you don’t think it’s gonna look good?”

there’s a little sigh, and then you feel hands in your hair, pulling out a section at the bottom of your head and tying the rest up with an elastic. riki reaches into the bowl of color with a bare hand, ignoring the brush (he stopped using it after the first couple times he’d done this for you in the last years), and takes a small amount onto his fingers. a moment passes, and then he’s raking the color into your hair, tugging ever-so-gently at your scalp as he massages the dye into every last strand.

you hum contentedly, allowing the boy to help you as you fiddle absentmindedly with the fabric of his socked foot. he wiggles his toes—an action that he knows you find adorable despite its childish implications—causing a giggle to float out of your chest. sunlight from your open window beams against your face, yet it somehow isn’t as warm as your boyfriend’s presence behind you.

“since it’s you,” he starts, leaning closer to squint at a strand before thumbing on an extra bit of color, “it’ll look good. even if it’s pink.” he says the last part a bit downcast, eyes trained on the (no doubt sickening, in his opinion) pink bowl of dye sitting between his legs. the words come out like they’ve literally taken years off of his life, to which you’re only able to roll your eyes fondly.

a couple more minutes pass, and riki’s about halfway done with your hair. you’re rocking side to side, humming the tune to a random song as he works. eventually, you decide there’s no better pastime than to annoy your boyfriend.

“how much do i have to pay you to get you to say i chose the perfect color?”

there’s silence, and then riki is snorting, putting his hands up to your head again to massage slowly against your scalp.

“don’t push it.”

a smile creeps onto your face. your eyes flutter shut to the comforting feeling of his fingers in your hair, breathing in slowly through your nose.

“name a currency. dollars? gift cards? new jewelry?”

he starts to laugh, then. it’s a tinkly sound that sets a nerve alight in your brain, bubbling and fizzing like a little can of sweet, syrupy soda. your smile widens, and even though riki can only see your back, you’re sure he knows.

“i’m trying so hard not to call you an idiot right now.” his own smile is apparent through his voice, a lilt to it like he’s fighting to keep the corners of his lips down.

a warm feeling spreads in your chest. you have so much adoration for the boy carding pink fingers through your hair, from his way-oversized hoodie to his wriggly toes. it’s taking all the strength you can physically muster not to lean back and get hair dye all over the both of you, just to be wrapped in his embrace.

“what about kisses?” you supply cheekily. riki pauses, his hands stilling in your hair. after a moment, he says:

“...i can be persuaded.”

he pulls his fingers from your hair at the same moment that you start to turn around, resting with your knees to the floor as you come face to face with your boyfriend again. he’s giving you his best glower—although it’s definitely more of a goofy cartoon rendition, at best. you giggle at him.

“hurry up,” he mutters, a pink flush to his cheeks as he eyes the dye plastered all over your previously bleached-blond hair.

you wobble on your knees a little as you crawl closer, fitting between his legs and bracing your hands against his shoulders.

“i’m about to give you the best kiss of your life,” you tell him, your voice dripping in mock seriousness. he squints at you, a smile playing at his lips.

“pink is the greatest color of all time,” he blurts, like the words are acid, his eyes closing immediately in waiting. you gaze at his face for a second, mapping his moles like constellations, your eyes drifting over his pouty lips and landing square on the tip of his nose.

where you’ll do it is no contest, really, because you’re leaning in to press a sweet butterfly kiss against his nose without much more than a split-second decision. he waits for a beat longer, eyes still closed, before he pops one open to reveal a confused brown iris.

“you cheated,” he deadpans, his face cupped in your hands. you brush a thumb over his eyebrow before letting go, backing away from him with a teasing smile.

“no i didn’t. i kissed you, like i said i would.”

“that wasn’t a real one,” he grumbles, grabbing your shoulders and maneuvering you around gently so that you’re sitting with your back to him once again. you laugh, the sound sticky and sweet in your chest.

“i didn’t know there was such a thing as a fake kiss.”

“whatever,” he replies, swatting at your shoulder with no force. “i didn’t need one anyway.” then there are hands in your hair again, slipping against your scalp to finish the final section near your forehead.

“‘m sorry,” you giggle, even though you’re not.

he finishes shortly, and you stand up on wobbly, slightly numb legs. you pad across your room, turning on the light in your bathroom, with riki whisking away the empty bowls you’d left behind and bringing them to your sink. he works on washing them as you slip into the shower, rosy rivulets of water running down your body like unicorn tears. you can’t help but to shiver a little, the cold water rinsing your hair sending goosebumps all across your skin.

riki hands you a towel when you step out, one that’s already stained with a myriad of different dyes from your past hair adventures. you towel up your hair, dressing quickly in the pajamas you'd been wearing while riki finishes rinsing off his hands in the sink.

when he turns around he’s squinting at you, pulling the towel off your head even as you protest weakly. your fresh, pink hair tumbles down, and riki chuckles to himself as he grabs a hairbrush.

the motions are familiar, the comfortable silence permeating the routine tugging at your heartstrings like gentle rain. the brush runs through your locks with sweet fervor, smoothing any knots that might have formed in the shower. in the end, your hair air-dries, the color in its final form a lovely shade of shiny pink.

“oh,” riki says, staring at you with a completely blank look on his face. but his voice sounds like he’d just come to the realization of the century. “it’s pretty.”

something about it—the way he’s a steely revelation of nothing, and yet he’s brimming with something like fond curiosity, is so completely riki that you could die. happiness surges in your throat, and the soda can in your brain pops open again, the same sugary sweet bubbles from earlier zipping off like little candied neurons.

“yeah?” you mumble, fighting to keep a wide grin from invading your face.

he nods silently, blond bangs flopping against his face.

“i told you, didn’t i?

he purses his lips for a second before his mouth is twisting into a smile, a quiet laugh tumbling from his chest.

“you did.”

you walk closer to him, giggling. he reaches out, letting you clutch at his forearms for balance. and then you’re smiling at him, and neither of you are saying anything but it somehow feels like you’ve said it all.

he shifts, cupping warm, bubblegum hands over your cheeks. the staining reaches just past his palms—like raw, honest evidence of the way he loves you.

and then he’s leaning in, bumping his nose against yours intentionally before hes titling a little to the right, your lips meeting in a soft kiss.

his hands slip to the back of your head, blending in with your soft pink locks. as he kisses you, lips slotted against yours tenderly, his fingers twirl in your hair.

you break apart with shy smiles, heat in your face and a staticky buzz in your head. riki lips are pink, and he pulls his hands away from you to run them through his hair.

“transaction completed,” you giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“oh, shut up,” he replies, screwing his face up in gentle amusement, and then surging forward to tackle you with a hug.

.ೃ࿐

at the end of the day, when riki’s grabbing his stuff and getting ready to drive back to his house for the night, you decide to take a picture together.

he stands behind you, pink-stained hands wrapping around your torso to rest on your stomach. his head dips down to rest on your shoulder while you hold your phone up to snap a picture in the full-length mirror standing before you.

a lone, pink stripe of hair rests against riki’s face, a shock of color against the light blonde of the rest of his head.

he kisses you on the cheek.

click!

tags! @tyunni @vousty

[jester-lover]

Blue Haired Boy

you play with Buggy's hair while the crew is away

Cw/ Fem! terms, food, fluff, whiny Buggy, OPLA! Buggy, he's just a head in this one lol

AN/ this is just me clowning around before getting my requests done, so not beta read.

Rolling over on the hammock for the fifth time, you grabbed at the thin pillow and shoved it off and onto the floor. Something about the situation was reminiscent of being stuffed into a wonton wrapper.

God, being the new girl sucks.

You thought the crew would have found some use for you, you were a jack-of-all-trades after all, but it seemed like there was only one role left to fulfill. And as the newest member of the crew, you were responsible for the more unsavory job.

“H-ello! I know you can hear me, broccoli hairrrr~”

Buggy’s singsongy tone reminded you of that very role, clown babysitter. Sighing as the throbbing headache in your temple mixed with the sharp pain in your back, you decided to stand up and get something done, anything that could distract you from your boredom.

The bag that held the clown’s head was on the kitchen table, much to Sanji’s chagrin. Other than the slight shaking and constant talking, he was an exemplary hostage.

As you walked closer to the bag, Buggy’s frantic ravings grew louder. Some empathetic little part of you felt bad for him, so you decided to use your better judgment and give him a little fresh air. That old sack must start to stink after a while.

As you open the bag and dump out the clown’s head, he immediately sprung up and winked at you dramatically. It was as if he was trying to max out his charisma.

“Why hello..~ You’re a new face, aren’t you?”

The deadpan look you tossed his way didn’t break his disposition, instead, it seemed to egg him on.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

Buggy’s head tilted to the side before he smiled brightly.

“A pretty name for a pretty girl…”

That comment got a little chuckle out of you, and he seemingly beamed.

Gently picking him up by his head, near his ears where he wouldn’t be uncomfortable, you placed him on the kitchen counter and pulled out a small kitchen knife.

“You hungry?”

Twirling the knife in-between your fingers, you looked at him expectantly. You had always had a deep sense of domesticity towards your crew, and as he was a temporary companion, he would be receiving your support too.

“Where do you think the food would go?”

Another laugh erupted from you, this one was genuine and hearty, and Buggy’s head laughed along with you.

Good point, clown.”

You picked his head up again and brought him to your makeshift little corner of the ship, laying in your soft red hammock with Buggy on your stomach as you examined him. Your fingers slowly threaded through his hair and adjusted his bandana.

He furrowed his brows slightly, trying to discern what your motive was for the affectionate act. Something clicked in his head as he met your eyes.

“Hey! If you're gonna get all sweet with me, you could've bought me dinner first!”

Laugher came from you in droves, and the clown, clearly proud of himself, bounced a little in the air.

As you continued to fix and adjust his hair and bandana, Buggy got a little quieter, and if you looked really close, you could see a little flush on his cheeks and (what was present of) his neck.

“This hair…it’s all yours huh?”

Your fingers threaded through a particular knot in his ocean blue locks, and he sighed a little.

“Y-yeah! I mean, I don’t dye it or anything…”

A softer smile appeared on your face as you patted the top of his gorgeous hair, sure, it wasn’t the cleanest; but it was still beautiful. The blue hair complimented his eyes, and framed his face perfectly.

“It’s so thick and voluminous, you could easily grow it out.”

Buggy’s painted face reddened more at that comment, the blush was visible as his grease paint began pulling off.

His silence sort of astonished you, but it was short lived.

“You think that would look alright..?”

Before you could speak again, only to confirm his thoughts, his head lept upwards into the air dramatically.

“ABSOLUTELY IT WOULD! ANYTHING WOULD LOOK GREAT ON A HUNK LIKE ME!”

Your shared laughter echoed throughout the night, a verbal symbol of an amusingly unstable relationship between the two of you blossoming.

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

Hiiiii, let me just say I love you writing!!!!! <3

Anyway my request is headcanons of Percy with a child of Erebus s/o. Erebus is the primordial god of darkness.

Like as a child of a primordial they’re extremely powerful and have like shadow powers. They also have really good night vision. They’re like super powerful at night because of all the darkness and a possible blessing of their step-mom Nyx.

Anyway have a good day/night :))))

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x child of erebus! reader hcs

content: percy jackson x child of erebus! reader hcs warning: none!! author's note: i know the pics are very feminine, but i tried my best to make this gn bc i noticed the 'child' instead of daughter!! i think i did it???? if you guys see any gendered terms, lemme know so i can fix it!! i know this is basically the daughter of nyx one i did but i like nightime escapades okay???? (im actually terrified of the dark and sleep with a nightlight at my grown ass age)

"and what do you think youre doing?" a voice questioned from behind percy, causing him to slip and fall from the brick wall he was just beginning to climb

"ow," he whined, resting a hand against his surely bruised ribs and attempting to look through the darkness at whoever scared him

"sorry! sometimes i forget other people can't see so well in the dark," you laughed lightly, holding your hand out to pull him back to his feet

percy took it, giving you a slightly grateful smile as he was back on his feet

"you must be y/n, then? erebus' kid?" percy questioned, dusking his sweatpants off, suddenly wishing he'd changed into better clothes like he vaguely thought to do

what kind of impression does blue food dye stained sweatpants give???

a bad one, surely.

"yup! the one and only, spooky master of the dark," you mocked all, dramatically, waving your hands around, which percy could just barely make out in the darkness

"great title. i personally go by lord of the seafoam but that's what my enemies call me," percy joked, enjoying your chuckles more than he thought he would

"and what do your friends call you?" you questioned with a tilt of your head.

"oh, also lord of the seafoam. or percy," he winked with a beaming smile that you didn't need night vision to see.

"well, lord of the seafoam, you never answered my question."

"hmm? OH! right, well, you see, my step dad mentioned something about a meteor shower tonight and i was trying to get to bunker nine to sit on the roof to watch it," percy explained with a shrug

"no way! me too! well, i was gonna use the half blood hill, but still!" you replied, bouncing on the balls of your feet in excitement

"actually, could i come with you? you know how leo is, probably still working in there and once he starts yapping, he never stops. i'd probably miss the whole thing," percy lied.

he knew leo was dead asleep and he gave percy a key to bunker nine just so he could watch the meteor shower

but was he really gonna pass up the opportunity to watch it with someone so dashing?? he's stupid, but not that stupid

"yeah, course! c'mon, i got snacks too!" you nodded, instantly, reaching forwards and grasping his wrist and dragging him towards half blood hill

percy was grateful you were leading the way for two reasons: one, he couldn't see for shit in this darkness, and two, it allowed him to hide his blush behind your back.

you'd already set up a place by what used to be thalia's tree, a blanket splayed out and snacks splattered on top

it was a perfect view over camp and of the sky, percy sure it would be difficult to miss the shower now

but, while you guys waited, you and percy couldn't seem to stop talking

the randomest and stupidest stuff

"aliens. yes or no?"

"obvi. hard yes."

"is cereal a soup?"

"technically yes, but i'd like to live in delusion that's it not."

"who do you think-" percy started but got cut off by your hands shooting out and wrapping around his arm

"look, look! it's starting!" you explained, pointing up at some streaking lights through the dark sky

you guys watched in silent awe for a while before percy leaned over to you, which wasn't much of a distance as you still clung to his arm

"why does a shooting star taste better than a comet?" he whispered, his eyes still on the sky

you squinted at him suspiciously but hummed in question

"It's a little meteor."

silence and then the cutest giggles percy's ever heard

"that's so chessy!" you managed to get out between your laughs, basically curled into percy's side

and his smile was beginning to hurt his cheeks

then a comfortable silence settled over the two once more, their eyes drawn back to the fireballs shooting through the sky

well, your eyes were

percy's eyes stayed on you, his blood rushing in his ears and his heart beating like a drum

then you caught him, out of the corner of your eye, biting your lip to keep your smile at bay

you were sure he didn't know you knew, your excellent night vision being the only reason you could see his eyes on you so clearly

then the final meteor flew by and percy started praying for just one more, not wanting the night to end

"this was fun...lord of the seafoam," you mocked, bumping your shoulder with his

percy laughed at the call back, but his heart wasn't in it

he knew this night would end and you guys would just be acquaintances, someone you just wave at as you pass on the way to your cabin, but never another conversation to be had

or that's what percy thought.

"of course, master of the darkness," he tried to joke, trying to hide his disappointment at the ending night, "any time-"

before he could get another mopey word out, you were shooting forwards, a kiss pressed firmly to his cheek

the words died on his tongue

"you know, i think the full moon is tomorrow. do you wanna-"

"yes. totally. let's do it," percy instantly cut in, shaking off your nearly paralyzing touch, the need to see you again enough to break him of any spell or prison.

[prncessjaeger]

last christmas ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

ღ trin speaks!: i couldn't choose between mikasa or ellie so take your pick 😵‍💫 (​i also had smut written but ehh i’ll save it for another day!)

soft christmas music played on queue as you finished rubbing the face mask on your girlfriend’s face with your matching roller, “oh my god you look soooo adorable baby!”

“i look like you,”

“exactly, now let’s push your hair back cause you don’t want the face mask cream all in your hair, and then we can make cookies!” she felt the cool comb run through her hair, slicking it back into a low bun matching your braided bun, adding the matching fluffy headband knowing it’d annoy her more, but she just sat there, letting you do whatever because she loves you just that much. 

you got up fixing up your christmas onesie, matching with your girlfriend and walked to the kitchen, turning the volume up once mariah carey’s ‘all i want for christmas’ played next, “you are not mariah,"

“shut up. now come help me please?” she sighed and got up, seeing you set your phone up against the couter, pressing record. “we’re just making sugar cookies?” “mhm, then we gon decorate them, have a little competition or something?” she began mixing the dough with her hands, shaking her head hearing you singing the chorus terribly. when she finished, you brought out the cookie cutters with all different shapes and sizes, and even got one with your and her names customized as well, “which one?”

“you pick.” humming, you grabbed the snowman for her and a christmas tree for you and began sorting them out, adding them to the baking sheet and setting the timer, “icing time! we’re making our own cause i absolutely hate store bought icing,” you began mixing in the wet and dry ingredients together and your girlfriend watched you in awe, suddenly coming behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and lay her chin in the crevice of your neck and shoulder, kissing you tenderly, “you’re so…”

“so what?” “i don’t know but i’m just in awe with you, like everything about you just leaves me in awe…” she backed up and turned you around, seeing your grin beam into your full smile she adores, “you are the sweetest person i know, and i love you oh so much.” “i love you too baby…now can we take these facemasks off? i don’t like it anymore.” rolling your eyes playfully, you nodded and wrapped the top of the bowl filled with icing with plastic wrap, walking to the bathroom and successfully removed the facemask, rinsing the rest of the cream off and decided to keep the headbands on, posing for flics and videos to post later.

the bell from the cookies went off, rushing to the kitchen to take the cookies out and letting them cool, “imma add food dye in the icing, then fill the bags and we can start then.” you set the timer having everything set, pressing record once again and turned to your girlfriend, “you ready?” “yeah, what’s the deal?”

“loser gives head?” you both shook on it and began decorating your cookies, your girlfriend was quieter than you, which was unusual for her, but you brushed it off as her being focused. When the timer went off, you both backed away and giggled, glancing at each other's cookie. You looked at her cookie then her, rolling your eyes hard when you saw her trying (and failing) to hold her laugh in. “bro you cheated!” “how i cheated?!” “you made the cookie ugly on purposeeee, and that’s not fair!” she giggled, annoying you even further when she replied with, “i’m taking every chance i can when it comes to eating your pussy, you knew that!” 🎀

[imagineredwood]

1. Cake 🍰

Summary: Angel is more than happy to help you bake a Valentine's day cake. Eating cake is his favorite.

Pairing: Angel Reyes x female reader

Warnings: 18+ implied sexual content

Word count: 738

A/N: Are y’all gonna be pissed that I ended it here? Yes. Will I do it again? Also yes 💀

"Ok, now…uh…two cups of flour."

Angel nodded and grabbed the measuring cup, scooping the cup full and then leveling it off just like you had shown him. He dumped the first cup into the mixing bowl and then did it again, slowly so he wouldn't make a huge mess again. You had already wiped up the flour from both the counter and your shirt.

"Ok. That was the last step. Now we just wait until it's completely mixed and then we can dye it."

Angel beamed, childlike joy in his eyes as he snatched up the bottle of pink food coloring.

"Been waiting the whole time just for this part."

You smiled, agreeing wholeheartedly. Angel popped the lid and then leaned over, watching as the last of the flour mixed in with the wet ingredients.

"Now?"

You nodded, leaning forward with him to look into the bowl, ready to watch the pretty colors swirling yourself.

"Now."

Angel squeezed the bottle gently, a few drops plopping down onto the surface of the batter. You both stared into the bowl, watching as the mixer turned the batter into the lightest of pinks then brighter and brighter until it was the perfect shade of pink for your cake.

"Good eye."

Angel grinned, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

"Thank you."

You turned to face him with a smile, leaning closer to him and puckering your lips for another kiss. He was more than happy to indulge you, pressing his lips against yours and kissing you slowly. Once twice, then three times. He pulled away much to your disappointment and smirked at the sound of your whine.

"Aw, what's the matter? Poor baby needs more kisses?"

You fluttered your eyelashes, reaching to turn off the stand mixer before placing your hands flat on his chest.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

The Mayan chuckled and leaned down, his lips hovering mere centimeters from your lips. His breath was warm as it ghosted over your lips.

"Well, then we better hurry up and put this cake to bake."

Your pout was pronounced as you huffed, hands making quick work to unscrew the bowl from the stand and start pouring the batter into the heart-shaped cake pan. The bubblegum-colored batter rippled into the pan as it filled, Angel's hands coming to rest on your hips, tugging you back into him. He wasn't sure if the tiny hitch in your breath was from the feeling of him hard against you, or from the shock of his rings freezing the tiny sliver of skin peaking out right between your top and waistline.

His fingers held and kneaded the plush flesh beneath them, his pulse quickening. You hurriedly tapped the pan onto the countertop, pushing any bubbles to the top before turning around in Angel's arms.

"Just gotta get it in the oven."

You thanked your lucky stars that you had been proactive enough to actually preheat the over this time and just put it on and then have to wait. You opened the oven door and leaned forward, sliding the pan onto the rack carefully before standing back up and closing the door. You turned to face Angel then, arms reaching for his waist when he sucked his teeth at you.

"Forgetting something?"

You grumbled and pulled away, grabbing your phone and starting a timer for 30 minutes, eyes hungry as you looked back up at him.

"Anything else, your majesty?"

Angel laughed at your sarcasm, the sound husky.

"Nah. I prefer Sir though."

You swallowed and he stepped closer to you, hand coming up to cradle the side of your face, his calloused thumb running over the swell of your bottom lip.

"How long we got before that timer goes off?"

"Thirty."

Angel shrugged, hands coming to grip your waist, moving your body against the counter where he wanted you before spinning you around, his hand on the back of your neck pushing you to lay flat, bent over the counter. His hands made quick work of pulling your heart-covered pjs down over your ass until they pooled at your ankles, your red panties following. He dropped to his knees behind you and pressed a small kiss to your left cheek, also giving a quick nip at the skin. He grinned at your little squeak and used both hands to spread you open, his mouth watering as he looked at you.

"Even fuckin' prettier than the cake."

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous   @gangstaliciou06

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon​  @abunnykisses​ @briana-mishell24​  @wrcn9fvlcver​  @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @krysiewithak​  @appropriate-writers-name​  @blessedboo​  @megapeacelovemusic-blog​ @emoengelfurleben​ @blowmymbackout​ @abby-splace​ @kola95​ @black-repunzel99​ @redpoodlern​  @myakai13​

@cruzwalters​  @danimals1096��@po3ticb3auty​ @lyly00​ @im-just-a-mississippi-girl​  @angel-121​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @90sisthenew80s​ @lovelytricia @librarian1002

[beesspacedotorg]

thinking about tinky winky (purple lino) and begging cute boyfriend minho to dye his hair purple again and because bunny loves loves loves compliments it turns into a “so you think i’m pretty huh☺️” fest of him fishing for praise from his partner -🌸

cherry blossom anon, I may have accidentally forgot to put in compliments and instead it turned into a 750 word fic about dyeing his hair. I hope that's okay. Mayhap I'll revisit this featuring the compliments and ... other thing.

You aren’t above begging. You aren’t above a lot of things, actually, as proven by the way you’re currently on your knees in front of your boyfriend, hands clasped together like you’re praying.

“Minho, please. I’ll do anything. Literally anything. I’ll unclog the tub drain myself next time, I’ll give you earth-shattering head, pleasepleaseplease.” He looks at you, mildly confused from where you’ve ambushed him at your front door before the realization dawns and his eyes narrow.

“You’re kidding me right now.” He toes his shoes off.

“I’m not. Please, you looked so hot I don’t see why you won’t let me.” He’s walking towards the kitchen and you follow after him, still on your knees.

“Are you saying that I don’t look hot now?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. You just looked so good with the hair, please. Stay will literally thank me.”

“They’ll think it was skzigi.”

“I’ll roleplay as JYP Entertainment staff if that’s what it takes, Lee Minho.” He sighs, throwing his head back towards the ceiling while mumbling. Your boyfriend isn’t religious, he’s one of the few members of his group who has never had any particular faith, but you think he might be praying for something right now.

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I’m mostly just doing all of this for the bit.” You’re standing now, hand on his shoulder as you peer at him, worried that you might have taken it a step too far.

“Shh. I’m trying to think of how I’ll explain this to our manager and Chan without getting my head lobbed off.” You smile, wide and beaming as you clap your hands excitedly, rushing off to the bathroom and reappearing next to him with a bag in your hands.

“Great! When you come up with a good excuse meet me in the bathroom.”

“How did you- Why- You didn’t even know I was going to say yes!”

“You’re right, I didn’t. I was going to save it for a rainy day, or use it on myself.” And with that, you’re gone, leaving Minho alone in the kitchen as he imagines how hot you would look with purple hair.

“Wait,” he calls after you, setting his half-opened ramen packet on the counter and turning, “did you buy enough for two people?”

-

“Are you sure you don’t want me to shower?” He asks, sitting backwards on the toilet lid as you mix the bleach.

“I didn’t go to hair school, so I’m not an expert, but I did dye my friends’ hair all throughout highschool and we had better results with less damage when their hair was gross so, yes. I’m sure.”

“That smells awful.”

“It’s almost like its chemicals.”

“I’ll leave.”

“There’s already bleach in your hair, if you leave now you’ll have awful streaks that even the most diehard LeeKnower wouldn’t be able to justify.” He huffs at that, mumbling something about how Stays aren’t that shallow and you reply with a comment about Hyunjin’s Maxident hair that shuts him up.

“He looked good,” he starts and you sigh, head dropping forward. “I don’t see what they were so upset about.”

“I know, dear.”

“He suits short hair!”

“He does.”

“It fit the concept!”

“It did.”

“Yah!” He turns, hitting your arm lightly and almost knocking the bleach bowl out of your hands. “You aren’t listening.”

“My apologies for not wanting to hear my boyfriend wax poetic about another man’s hair.”

-

“How long does this have to sit for?”

“Ask me that again and I’ll leave it in until you go bald.”

-

The bleach is washed out and his head’s half purple before he looks at his phone and his eyes go wide.

“What’s up?” You’re busy drawing shapes on his head with the dye.

“Hannie is calling.”

“So answer it.”

“It’s video.”

“Say that you’re naked.”

“Like that’s stopped me before.”

“Say that I’m naked.” The call promptly drops.

-

“How long does this have to sit for?”

“Do you give the hairstylists at the company this much trouble?”

“No.”

“I’m shaving you bald.”

-

His hair has been rinsed and blow dried and you’ve been making eyes at him for the past ten minutes while he shoves ramen noodles in his mouth.

“Can you stop staring so hard? My head’s about to catch fire.” His mouth is full.

“No. No I cannot.” His eyes roll and he sets his now empty bowl down.

“So… about that ‘earth-shattering head’ you mentioned?”

[dancy-nrew]

Happy Secret Samol @humanmorph !!! Yo ho ho a pirates life for you!

Id in alt text and also below the cut for legibility

Image one: An Alise Breka book cover. The illustration (meant to resemble an oil painting) features Leap and Figure A back to back, Figure A closer to the camera and Leap behind them. Leap is in a tie dye hoodie, Figure A has a dramatic collar welded to their round torso. Each are holding a sword and fending off attacks on all sides. Laser beams zip across the screen. The title of the book is “High Seas and Distant Stars” and is written on a yellow band across the top of the page. There is a simplified drawing of palisade as a logo for Palisade Publishing. There is a barcode across the bottom left.

Image two and three: Mockup of the inside of the book. Text reads:

The pirate captain, devastatingly handsome — or devastating and handsome, if you put the question to the unlucky sailors across many planet’s seas — lounged about the deck of the ship. A foul wind had blown through the port in the night, and showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. Disadvantageous, and perhaps more terribly, incredibly dull. Exeter Leap had faced down gods and kings and only laughed in their faces; to be trapped here by a measly turn in the weather made his plating itch.

They’d been here a week already, despite no small effort to leave. Unloading, his first mate insisted, takes time if they want it done properly. Leap had insisted he’d never done anything properly in his life and didn’t plan on starting now, but Figure A had tilted their head in that way they had and explained that properly meant more money, which, he supposed, was hard to argue with. Especially considering their other delay. The Bluebird had taken substantial cannon fire in their last battle, and was desperately in need of repairs, as well as the more tedious maintenance work that went into keeping a ship of its size and purpose in fit fighting shape.

So the minutes ticked into hours ticked into days, and here they are, still.

“I’m not a man meant to stay still,” he complains, staring out over the roiling waves.

”Still: up to and including the present or the time mentioned, or still: not moving or making a sound?”

Leap jumps, but only slightly. A pirate can never be too surprised, but he hadn’t realized he had company, lost in thoughts as turbulent as the sea. The familiar red and gold form of his friend leaning next to him is a welcome sight. “Oh- Uh. Both. Either. Not still here, or still physically.”

Figure A nods in easy understanding. They’re better at patience, at being in one place, but Leap thinks they have something restless about them, too. They lean forward as if they have something more to say but then-! A shout! The familiar blistering heat of a laser beam sipping past inches from his face! A scorch mark across metal! Leaps springs into action as

FREE READING PREVIEW LIMIT REACHED

FULL BOOK DOWNLOAD: 45 GLINT

INSTALLMENT PAYMENTS AVAILABLE !

WHOLE BOOK IN 4 ACTS, EASY PAYMENTS OF 15 GLINT EACH!

EXTRAS AND BEHIND THE SCENES CONTENT (AN INTERVIEW WITH THE CAPTAIN HIMSELF!) 25 GLINT!

Image four: A series of sketches of Leap and Figure A.

First sketch; Leap has his arms crossed saying “Thats not how any of that happened!” as he looks over Figure A’s shoulder as they read the book. They laugh and say “I think it’s fun!

Second sketch; Figure A points at the cover and says “Look at my cool collar” as Leap leans forward to look at it and says “it is pretty sick…”

Third sketch: Leap welding a big metal pirate coat-like collar onto Figure A’s torso as they giggle

Fourth Sketch; Leap grins and asks “How’s that?” Figure A says “Thank yo-“ but bonks their face into the collar as they turn their head

Fifth sketch; very small at the bottom of the page. Leap has a hand over his mouth. Figure A’s head slumps forward as they sigh.

[ceruleancattail]

despite being the number one riddle kisser I didn't actually take his hand Ithought about it for a long time but now my poor eepys been forgotten by my love for rids. riddle getting upset I choose epel or epel knowing I choose him just to leave him for riddle sounds really tastey.....mmmm horror...♡♡♡

Sentience presents:

Doll

Self-Aware Epel x reader

Tw: Yandere, mentions of blood and gore, Epel beats up people but is weirdly happy about it.

There was something deliciously satisfying about being chosen. Being wanted, by another. Epel knows that emotion especially well. After all, it was you who chose him, after all.

He remembers every detail.

The way the very tips of your fingers brush against his, intertwining, joining as one. The way the curve of your palm slotting ever so perfectly against his, your pulse thumping into his skin.

Your warmth pulsing into him, filling him with life.

You gave him a purpose, in this desolate stage of fools. Every day, Epel would wrestle with the others for a chance to greet you at Ramshackle’s door. An angelic face beaming at you, with knuckles bruised a patchwork of crimson and purple.

Epel never seemed too concerned about hiding his wounds. He opted instead to see them as badges of honour. The romanticised scars of a warrior fighting for his beloved.

It’s not like he could hide it, anyways. No matter how hard Epel scrubbed at his hands, that stench never seemed to leave. The metallic stench of blood clung to his hands, as if it was staining him. Marking him. Not that he minded.

After all, it’s for you.

It’s all for you.

So why are you with him?

Laughing with Riddle Rosehearts, giving him those bashful little smiles. Expressions that even Epel was never privy to. You cling onto Rosehearts all so sweetly, joy dancing merrily on your lips. There’s a skip in your step now, whenever you wander off to Heartsabyul on an “errand”.

Epel can’t help but notice the pink blooming on your cheeks whenever you see a certain rose-haired student. The way you gush all over Riddle whenever he greets you at the doorstep. All Epel can do is seethe in the corner, teeth gritting tight. Pressing down hard, until his jaw aches, the sourness of blood seeping onto his tongue.

You chose him.

Stretched out your arm for Epel, clutching his hand. He was the one who pulled you through the mirror. The one who let you into this world.

Now, you’re disposed of him.

As if he was a just a mere doll, toyed with by your loving hands. Yanked around by the strings pulled by your hand, led to believe that you truly loved him. He had fought for you, bleed for you, thrown himself into the heat of battle just to see you smile-

Trembling, those fingers of his unconsciously rolled into a fist. Nails digging in deep the flesh of his palm, scarlet crescents forming on it. Epel clenches his jaw, before casting one last determined look at the crumbling walls of Ramshackle dorm.

If ya’ so fond of red, he’ll give ya’ a show.

Epel will dye this entire shitty world crimson with his own two fists.