#Which facial is better for glowing skin?

[ioniccosmetic]

Which facial is best for glowing skin ?

If you are searching a good facil for glowing your skin you should read this article today we will discuss about Which facial is best for glowing skin ? Everyone want a glowing it doesn’t matter which color which age you have.The facial is best thing you can use it to find glowing skin. Today in markets there are lots of facial available for glowing skin. Facial help to grow glow of your skin…

[universalitgirlsblog2]

🧼✨️GLOW UP GUIDE🧼✨️

🧼PHYSICAL GLOW UP

This is inspired from Glow up blueprint video by Dear peachie. Dear peachie will help you to achieve the ultimate physical glow up

.First of all, get to know your features. People who have facial features with accurate facial proportions , stronger symmetry ,brighter colours , defined lines look better in the static image whereas disproportionate facial ratio , poor symmetry , dull complexion , uneven structures can affect how one looks in static image.

Look at the glow up pyramid. Every level is interrelated to each other and is equally important . The elements at each level serves as the foundation which steps towards a higher level. The overall aspects may get affected if insufficient attention are given to fundamental levels.

Celebrities always appear gorgeous and sophiscated because they play attention they have invested a fortune and massive efforts in the detail that ordinary people never thought of.

There is a Chinese sayings which says one can recognize a beauty from 10 meters away. From a 10 meters distance, we cannot see the beauty looks like , her facial features and make up is blurry. However , we can see her body shape , posture , hair , clothing style. If we maintain 2 to 5 meter social distance , the focus point is skin , face shape and overall proportions. Body type , posture , clothing , hair , skin , face shape and overall proportion forms the impression of the body.

( A) Skin

- maintain a balanced diet

- good quality of sleep.

- stay hydrated lol ( common advice but it works )

- avoid smoking and eating too much sugary foods.

- Build a skin care routine which suits you the best.

- Visit a dermatologist regularly.

- Rub ice on face

- Do facial yoga

- Less is more

- The most simple way - just affirm that you have clear skin .

( B ) Body

- Workout !

- Maintain a healthy diet , don't starve yourself please !

- We can enhance our body proportions by wearing clothes which suit our body type.

- Love your body , don't abuse it by starving yourself or criticising it.

( C ) Posture

- You can do exercises to get a good posture.

- Try to maintain a good posture even if you are doing your daily tasks.

- Walk with a good posture , you will appear more graceful and elegant.

(D) Hairstyle

- Hairstyle is a great way to express oneself. You can choose different hairstyles which suit you.

- Healthy and beautiful hair can enhance your appearance so give some time to yourself and do hair care .

- A suitable hairstyle can draw visual attention towards your best features. For example : Long face framing bangs reduce impression of high cheek bones.

( E ) Body shapes

- Get to know your body type and dress up according to your body type.

👛🧁I didn't go into details , dear peachie has made videos for topics like posture, body shapes , hairstyles etc. I will make notes on those too . Those posts will be more detailed and in depth👛🧁

MORE TIPS BY MOI !

- Try mewing, you will get high cheekbones and sharp jawline.

- Get regular trims and hair scalp treatments.

- Yoga is so beneficial for both physical and mental health.

- Accessories to spice up your outfits !

- Develop a good fashion sense , you can take inspiration from celebrities too .

- Apply Vaseline on eye lashes .

- If you want to appear taller and slimmer, then wear high waist jeans and crop tops . ( This tip may vary from one body shape to another )

✨️MENTAL GLOW UP

- DEVELOP SELF - LOVE. I recommend you to check out these posts - how to love yourself , self-love affirmations by me , self- love affirmations by Alanna Foxx, songs for self-love. Also , read these posts - click me and click me !

- Be disciplined. Care for yourself . Cherish yourself. Love yourself no matter what.

- Listen to Guided Meditations and Podcasts

- Adopt the " OK and ? " or " So what? " mentality . They were talking behind your back , OK and ? They don't like you , OK and ? You tried something new and failed , So what ? They left you on seen and ghosted you , So what ?

- Adopt the " You are You , I am me " mentality.

- Listen to the wizard liz , Tam Kaur , Simone or Alessia.

- Watch good content. You are what you consume. You have control over it. Don't watch videos which are full of drama and negativity . Watch productive and educational videos.

- Meditate ! You will become more mindful and self- aware.

- Become selfish! No , don't use people for your own benefit but put yourself first. Posts you should read to understand it better ! - click me , click me !!

- STOP BEING A VICTIM ! YOU ARE THE CREATOR OF YOUR REALITY !!! YOU CONTROL YOUR REALITY , NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND !!!!

- Don't seek validation from others , don't listen to other's opinions . Others opinions are irrelevant.

- Watch documentaries. Read books .

- Cut off toxic people ! This is so important. If someone drains you , puts you down , always nitpicking or complaining about you or other things . Distance yourself. It doesn't matter if you know them in real life or if it's online friendship. It doesn't matter if you knew them for a decade .

- You don't need to share everything with your Close friends.

- Say affirmations out aloud while doing skin care infront of mirror or in your mind.

- Act like the person you want to become.

- Don't chase , attract

- Know you are the main character.

- Don't allow others to use you or treat you like a doormat.

- Be more organized.

- Don't compare yourself with others.

- Don't depend on others for your happiness .

- Journal.

- Try shadow work

- Have hobbies

🍥ACADEMIC GLOW- UP

-Being intelligent is hot. Prioritize your education.

- Find a reason to study. Do you want to top your exams ? Do you want to make your parents proud ? Do you want to be the smart kid ?

- Find a role model . It can be a fictional character or celebrity . Check this post to find some inspiration - click me !

- Your reason to study should be bigger than your distractions.

- Watch fayefilms and studyquill , they always have the best study tips.

-Teach your friends , family or even pet . You will be able to revise the concepts better. If you get stuck while explaining , you would know that the topic is not clear to you yet.

- Use Mnemonics

- You can use the SQ3R method. SURVEY. QUESTION. READ . RECITE . REVIEW.

- Romanticize being smart. Romanticize studying.

- I would recommend you to read these posts , I hope they help you to study well !! - click me , click me , click me , click me , click me , click me, click me , click me

I hope this post helps you too - click me !

[captainfern]

part two of you and price at the hotel ;)

the post that started it all | part one

18+ (smut, unprotected piv obviously, f!oral, etc etc), fem!reader

un-edited, super lazy writing + formatting sorry

John’s hands on your waist were blistering hot, the skin beneath prickling with a fire that you could feel smouldering in your belly. You wondered for a moment whether it was the alcohol but you knew, the moment you locked eyes in the lift, you knew it was all him.

The two of you stared at each other as the lift doors drifted shut, after John jammed his thumb into the appropriate floor button. The fire was spreading throughout your entire body, and you felt as though you could’ve melted right then and there.

But you didn’t. He kept you solid as he brought you closer to him, pinning your fronts together and caging you against the sleek rear wall. He kept one hand on your hip, the other clasping your jaw in a firm but gentle hold— a way similar to how he held his tumbler of whiskey: firm but gentle, a sort of tenderness beneath his callouses.

Angling your face to his, John slotted his mouth to yours with a hum vibrating from the back of his throat. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought it was a purr. You tapped into that air of feline delight, closing your eyes and carding your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. He grunted, groaning into the kiss as the solid weight of his tongue split your lips apart.

The lift continued to whirr around you, taking the both of you higher and higher. The entire time, he held you to him as he seemingly absorbed every last glimmer of anxiety from your glowing skin. The burn in your stomach had melted the butterflies. No more nerves now. You were running on pure desire.

Your tongues met in a hard, but pliant kiss, licking over one another like the tide against the shore. The tip of your tongue brushed momentarily over his teeth, and there you tasted the faint, bitter remains of his whiskey. It made you mewl against his lips, your drink of choice for the night no doubt a dominant taste against John’s tongue too.

The lift chimed, and the doors opened. You pulled away quickly, pushing yourself away from John but remaining nestled in his side. He pouted, a kink in his brow, as he allowed you to put a fraction of space between you both. His hair was mussed, lips swollen and cheeks painted pink beneath his facial hair.

His hand resuming placement on the small of your back, John guided you out of the lift and down the luxurious hallway. Soon, you approached a door to which John swiped a card, and pushed open.

With him right on your tail, you took a fleeting moment to take in the expensive interior. It had to be some kind of penthouse suite, with its entire lavish living area and dining area, with large floor-to-ceiling windows that boasted an incredible view (although, the world outside was pitch black, save for the glittering lights of the city below).

The door shut and locked behind you, and you soon felt John’s presence. Like a spectre, he glided up behind you and attached himself to your very spirit. His broad chest pressed flat against your back, his hands coming down to the curve of your hips, his head ducking to press a sweet kiss behind your ear.

“S’a pretty place you’ve got here, John,” you commented, eyes still peering through the low light of the hotel room. You wondered how fancy the bedroom would be.

John trailed his warm kisses down the curve of your neck, his hands rubbing gentle circles on the soft dips of your hips.

“Mhm,” he hummed, tongue pushing along the hem of your neckline. “Real fuckin’ pretty.”

The burning hot fire that had nestled deep in your belly travelled south, your core alighting with a soaking-wet warmth that made a shudder roll up your body. You knew he wasn’t referring to the room, after all.

You let your head tip to the side, exposing more of your neck and shoulder as John’s lips ghosted across the skin. Goosebumps raised in its wake, procured beneath the trail of saliva he was leaving. You released a deep exhale when his teeth scraped against your jugular, his facial hair tickling you, scraping against your soft skin so nicely. The parallel was making you dizzy.

“Sweetheart,” John started, pulling your hips backwards until your arse was held directly against his pelvis. He bucked his hips shallowly, once, twice, to grind his cock against you. You could feel it against the curve of your backside, hot and hard and throbbing within the confines of his trousers. He placed one last kiss to your cheek. “Let me take you to my room, hm? Make you feel good.”

You twisted in his hold until you could place two hands on his shoulders and pull him to you. You kissed him, deep and slow. He groaned against you, lips just as warm as the rest of him.

In this position, you rubbed your clothed front against his also clothed hard-on, the noise drawing from him downright animalistic. The sound alone had you leaking into the gusset of your underwear— your nice underwear, too. So, to satisfy the burning need within you, you slowly sunk down onto your knees— but John stopped you.

“Uh-uh, pretty girl,” he tutted, then cooed, cupping a hand to your cheek when your fingers looped through his belt. You looked up at him with an inquisitive look. He shook his head slowly. “S’not nice to have a nice lady like you on her knees, huh? S’a man’s job— s’a man’s job to get on his knees and please a woman.”

With that, he helped you back onto your feet and, after you successfully kicked off your shoes, you followed him through the lavish hotel room and into the actual sleeping quarters.

Here, with honeyed pleasure coursing through your veins, you settled into the edge of the large, white-linen bed. The mattress was firm, but still wonderfully soft, and the duvet you could feel beneath your clammy fingers was plush and feather-like. It’s a shame you weren’t going to need them much for sleeping tonight.

John, after pressing one last heated kiss to your lips, sunk himself to the floor before you. Like a man praying, he kneeled with his knees near the base of the bed, his head turned up to look at you as if you were heaven on earth. His pupils were blown wide, eyes glossy, a blush on his cheeks, his hair the perfect kind of messy.

You smiled down at him.

Both of his large hands came to hold your knees, fingers pressing gently as he spread you open before him. You giggled as he perfectly slotted himself in the space he created, and then proceeded to slide his hands up your thighs.

Your giggled turned to airy moans when he groped at the fat of your thighs, rucking up material as he went to expose your underwear to him.

He hummed, pleased, at the obvious wet patch across your clothed core. You felt your body begin to heat again, his gaze stoking that fire within you.

“Oh, my poor girl,” he lilted, leaning forward to drag his nose and lips against your inner thigh. “Look at how wet you are for me.”

You moaned, arching, your arms trembling where you desperately held yourself upright as his face finally pressed into your clothed cunt. You moaned again as you resisted the urge to rock against him, pleasure crackling up your spine as his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your clit over the material.

Then— then he was making out with your cunt with no abandon. He grunted against your pussy, muffled against your lingerie, as his tongue swiped in and out of his mouth, lapping at the patch of your arousal. His nose bumped your clit, already puffy with a desperate need for release, making you sob.

“John—” You whined, grinding yourself against his face.

He held your hips in his hands, holding you still. Kissing your clit one last time, John departed from your clothed core and looked up at you, eyes glinting with something vulpine.

“Tell me what you need,” he instructed you, his voice deep and languid. It made you leak into your underwear even more, a silent whimper bubbling at the back of your throat. He squeezed your hips gently. “Tell me what you need from me, sweetheart.”

“Your mouth,” you answered, voice shaky but laced with the confidence of the woman you were about twenty minutes ago. What happened to liquid courage? You were feeling real sobre now. “Your mouth, please, John. Need you to— oh, fuck. Need y-your mouth on my pussy.”

His smile was instant.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered, before pulling down your underwear, yanking it out from beneath your thighs and snapping it from your ankles. He tossed the fabric aside, his eyes on your cunt, watching the way your hole dribbled slick now that it was exposed to him. He grunted, eyelids fluttering, cock twitching in his trousers. “That’s a real good girl.”

Then, John surged forward and sealed his hot mouth over your cunt, dipping his tongue into your hole. You mewled, writhing against the bed as his tongue curled inside you, lapping at the arousal that had built. He grunted against you, eyes battling to stay open and look at you, the smell and taste of your pussy causing his eyelids to droop with pleasure.

His nose nudged your clit, swollen already with your arousal. The movements of his face, which he patterned in moving side-to-side every so often, had your thighs trembling. Broad hands held them to the bed though, pinning you softly. You could feel the scratch of his facial hair against your upper-inner thighs. The sensation was heavenly.

“John…” You whispered in a moan, wriggling your hips back against him, pressing his face even closer to you. He moaned, tongue still stuffed deep inside you, licking in and out. You felt as though the air was being sucked from your lungs. You panted, “John, oh fuck— please.”

John’s hands massaged your thighs, groping at the soft flesh, his eyes fully alert now and taking in every flicker of an expression on your face. Your pleasure seemed to radiate from your skin, leeching from your pores for John to take for himself— the sight of you forced a moan from deep in his chest, his cock twitching violently in his trousers, his briefs no doubt stained with his pre-cum.

He knew you wanted to come. You needed to come. Your body was thrumming with the pressure building inside you, your thighs trembling beneath the weight of his hands. He could see the way your tummy began to twitch, your orgasm building in the very base— tingly, like static, pulling at the very edges of your conscience. Most importantly, he could feel the way your cunt pulsed around him, wet walls squeezing his tongue in a steady pattern as you neared your precipice.

You arched just a bit further off the bed, and John knew you were straddling the back of your release, just one push away from toppling over. So, he kept the thrusting of his tongue into your sopping cunt level and even, his nose still nudging at your pretty, puffy clit. And then he moaned into you, the vibrations hitting you like an electric shock.

You came into John’s mouth with a pornstar moan of his name, almost obnoxious, but pulling the vowel out and around your sound of pleasure. Your thighs clamped around his head, caging him against your core while your hands fisted the sheets below, eyes snapping closed as your orgasm washed over you like a curling wave of warm water.

John kissed you through it— his lips on your pussy, kissing the tingling nerves of your clit, nose buried in the neat curls across your mound. His eyes were on you, watching as you drifted down from your orgasmic high, seemingly glowing beneath the dimmed lighting of the hotel bedroom.

“That’s a good girl…” He muttered against you, finally pulling away with one last sweet kiss to your clit. He squeezed your thighs gently, rubbing the pliant flesh as he got to his feet— knees cracking, making the both of you smile— and crawled over you.

You made the effort to push yourself further up the bed (although it was difficult, considering your first orgasm had turned your muscles to jelly). But John helped you, following your movements and using his strong arms to situate your head against the pillows. Then, he settled himself between your parted legs.

“Alright, pretty girl?” He asked, before leaning down and sealing his mouth over yours. He kissed you hard, tongue probing deep into your mouth in search of your own. When he found it, he moaned against your lips. He pulled back after a moment, a string of saliva connecting your mouths before snapping as he smiled.

“I’m alright,” you were finally able to answer. “But I need you, John. Need more.”

His eyebrows quirked. “Need more? Such a greedy girl, sweetheart. Use your manners.”

By now, he was undressing you— stripping you of your outfit and tossing the garments haphazardly across the room. In what felt like the blink of an eye, you were left bare before him, naked and stretched out beneath him like the most beautiful prize he had ever won.

John was still dressed, however. Still clothed in a nice suit and tie. You suddenly felt hot.

“Please, John— please fuck me. Need you so bad.”

“What do you need?” John asked lowly, beginning to untie his tie, starting first by loosening it with a few sideways tugs, before pulling the silken fabric loose and tossing is aside.

The sight was almost erotic. You moaned loudly, hips bucking against the bed.

“I… I need your cock,” you managed to utter, stomach tight with anticipation, your cunt throbbing and your release still leaking down the curve of arse. “Please, John.”

He had shrugged off his suit coat, and was now making quick work of unbuttoning his dress shirt. He watched you intently while he worked his fingers down his chest and abdomen.

“Yeah? Is that right, sweetheart? You need my cock?” He cooed when he finally got his shirt open, letting it hang loosely against him. His soft, hairy abdomen was revealed, littered with a few scars, making you whimper.

You nodded. “Please.”

“Aw, my poor, needy girl,” he began with a lilt in his deep voice. He was now unbuttoning his trousers, shucking them down just enough to expose the waistband of his briefs. You could see his cock straining against the dark fabric. He chuckled, eyes raking down your body. “So desperate for cock, hm? So desperate that you went back to a room that wasn’t yours, isn’t that right?”

You nodded, pupils blown across your irises as you watched him dip a hand into the front of his briefs and pull out his hard cock. You moaned at the sight of it, curling forward under the weight. He gripped it tight at the base, fisting at the patch of dark hair that grew at the end of his dark happy trail.

John chuckled at your reply, grabbing a pillow as he did so to slot beneath your hips, angling your pretty pussy towards him. He licked his lips, still tasting you there.

“You gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy without a condom?” He asked, almost as though it was a challenge. “D’you want me to stuff this pussy full’a my cum? Hm? Want me to breed you nice and full?”

You whined a loud “Yes, John—!” when he notched the tip of his cock at your hole.

The tip was flushed red, leaking pre-cum that smeared across your leaking hole. A couple of veins ran up the underside, flowing over the smooth, velveteen ridges to the very base, where John continued to hold tight.

The head teased your hole, pressing up against it and making a rush of warmth flow over your body. You whimpered, the stretch already apparent as he plugged your leaking hole, splitting you open in a gentle rock of his hips.

“You sure, sweetheart?” John asked you, your cunt swallowing the head of his cock, squeezing around it and making him grumble deep in his chest. He took a deep breath. “You don’t have a husband waiting for you at home? Wouldn’t want to go home to him filled with another man’s cum, would you?”

The thought alone made you moan, but you shook your head, your ring-less hands running down his back, pulling at the fabric of his shirt. It felt so erotic to be fully naked beneath a half-dressed man.

“Noooo,” you whined, growing impatient now. “John, please just— fuck me, please.”

He listened— with a grunt from the back of his throat, his body surged forward and, as he slotted his mouth to yours, he pushed his cock deeper into the warmth of your cunt.

The both of you moaned. Symphonic, a mess of sounds, meshing together as your lips let and tongues intwined. The noises he made were deep, tasting of expensive whiskey and bittersweet ash. To him, the angelic noises that fell from your mouth were the sweetest things on earth.

John’s cockhead plugged directly at the base of your cervix, and when he stilled, hips flush to yours, you could almost feel him prodding at your lower stomach. It made you whimper, breaths coming quicker as he waited, waited inside you with his arms caging your head and his legs bumping against yours.

He broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asked, the syllables stretched out around a hoarse whisper. A smoker’s whisper.

“Yeah… yes, fuck, m’fine,” you mumbled, eyelids fluttering, feeling slightly distracted. “You can move.”

He was so solid inside you. Stretching you open, splitting you open to fit the sheer girth of his fat cock. You felt so full, stuffed full of him, the walls of your cunt squeezing him tight.

John began to move at your request. Gently, he pulled his hips back until just the flared tip was nestled in the clutch of your heat. He stayed like this for just a moment, a moment enough to have you whimper some protest, before he thrusted himself back in with one fell swoop.

The force of his thrust made you arch as the air was knocked from your lungs and the tip of his cock pushed right up against your womb. You cried out, a breathless sob, as your hips brushed and he set a pace.

The pace rocked the mattress, creaks and groans fitting with the sounds of your dual pleasure— your moans and pleads and the slick sounds of your cunt, and John’s grunts and whispers in reply.

You felt so full. Bursting at the seams. The thick of his cock pulling your pussy taut, stretching it open and moulding it as though you were meant to take him all along. You were made for him.

And the entire thing felt so intimate. John caged his arms around your head as he rutted into you, his soft grunts falling directly to your ear. You mewled with each upwards thrust, your hands travelling up and down his clothed back, the buttons of his open dress shirt scraping delicately over your nipples.

The way his trousers bunched just below the drop of his balls made you whine, the rustle of the expensive fabric somehow adding to the pleasure. Maybe it was the fact he was half-dressed, fucking you like he had no time to waste.

You wished he kept the tie on so you could tug it.

John was losing himself within you, just as you were with him. His head tucked to the side, he groaned low under his breath at the way your warm, wet cunt sucked him in with each thrust. Your gummy walls contracting around him, pulling animalistic sounds from the very depths of his body.

But the closer he got, the more pleasure seeped into his veins, the louder he got, and the filthy words that tumbled from his rouged lips.

He snapped his hips a bit harder, hitting deeper, rougher, and moan was punched from your lungs, your fingers pressing into the soft muscles of his back.

“John…” You whined, and he repeated the action. Over and over again. He was hitting the most perfect spot inside you every single time.

Bliss. Phosphenes exploded behind your eyelids when you let them flutter closed, a kaleidoscope of colours hued from your pleasure. You felt so good. He was making you feel so good.

John turned his head, teeth grazing your earlobe, his facial hair scratching against the soft skin beneath your ear. He could feel your pulse racing, the heat of your skin radiating against his lips.

“You like that, pretty girl?” He asked lowly, right hand shifting closer to your head to cup the side of your face, holding you closer to him. His thumb rubbed soothingly along your cheekbone.

“Yessss,” you whined again, tears pricking the backs of your eyes. “Feels so— fuck, oh my god— so good.”

A grumble left John’s throat, low and dusky. It was a sound of approval, of content at the fact he was the one making you feel good. He was the one stuffing your pretty little pussy full of his cock.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered, nuzzling the side of your head. The action was gentle and delicate, and not at all similar to the way he was spearing you on his cock, thrusts rocking you into the mattress. He shifted his face to kiss your cheek. “You’re being such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

You mewled as his lips danced across your cheek and found your mouth again. His tongue delved straight into your mouth, and you dragged a hand up to fist his hair, tugging gently. You felt him grumble something into the kiss, but it was swept away like a whisper at sea. Besides, you were barely alert enough to make out your own noises.

He was fucking you to the point of static. Your entire body was thrumming like a live wire, pleasure racing through your veins and your muscles trembling with the weight of his thrusts. Moans and whimpers bubbled out of your throat, and your tongue struggled to keep up with his as he kissed you, full of spit.

John pulled away first, feeling your pussy clench around him tighter. His own orgasm was brewing in the base of his belly, abdomen beginning to tense in a similar matter to his balls, just waiting to empty themselves into the clutch of your womb.

“Fuck, I can feel you, sweet girl— can feel you squeezin’ my cock,” he hissed out, two hands either side of your head, pinning you beneath him. Possessive. “You wanna come? You wanna be my good girl and come all over my cock?”

You were nodding before the words had even finished leaving his mouth. Moaning, you trembled beneath him, body tightening and tightening, sweat accumulating across your skin.

“John, please—!” You moaned loudly, hips bucking in time with his thrusts, grinding desperately in your chase for release.

But you didn’t really have to chase it, did you? Not with the way John was fucking you. Not with the way he was talking to you.

“Come on, come for me,” he whispered, then groaned. His orgasm was so close. He could feel his resolve wearing. Quickly, he held himself aloft over you with one strong arm, trailing his fingers down your body until he made contact with your swollen clit. He rubbed smooth, even circles across the bud. “That’s my girl, come on, let go for me.”

The pleasure overwhelmed you. You moaned his name, and then you came the hardest you’d come in a long time.

Your body short-circuited. Your orgasm snapped inside you, your cunt clenching like a vice around the thick of his cock, your clit pulsing in time with your erratic heartbeat beneath the rough pads of his fingers. You arched up against him, nipples snagging on the buttons of his shirt, pulling a choked sob from you.

John spoke to you the entire time, your body fizzing with pleasure, your legs curling around his waist.

“There you go, that’s it, good girl…” he whispered, praising. “Let it all out— yeah, that’s a good girl, sweetheart.”

Your body went lax beneath his when your orgasm waned. You felt so sated.

And John wasn’t too far behind.

He rutted into you, his pace growing sloppy as his own need for release tipped further and further towards the edge. He grunted, groaning too, sweat beading his forehead and dampening his hair, strands falling free and moving with each of his deep thrusts.

“Such a good girl,” he said again, sultry and deep and enough to make your clit throb with desire, cutting through the sheer veil of overstimulation. He hummed, then grunted. “Such a good fuckin’ pussy— so wet an’ tight, s’just made for me. My good girl an’ my fuckin’ pussy.”

You moaned. His words were different. A break in character.

“An’ ‘m gonna come inside you— fuck, yeah sweetheart, gonna fill this pretty pussy with my cum,” he whispered, but his voice rang loud on your ears. He chuckled to himself, then moaned. “Yeah, gonna fuckin’ breed you… M’gon’ come so deep in this fuckin’ pussy that it’ll take, sweetheart. Take.”

You moaned again. So did he. Filthy.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want a— fuck, you want a stranger to come inside you? Fill you up an’ send you back to your husband? Naughty fuckin’ girl—”

“John!” You interrupted him with a whine, and then you were coming again. This orgasm shattered you.

The tightening of your body again, and the heat of your soft body against his tipped him over the edge.

He came with a choked moan, buried to the complete hilt inside you. He pumped you full, spurts of hot seed emptied right up against the base of your cervix. You whined as he buried his face in your neck, hips twitching against yours as your pussy milked him of every last drop of his orgasm.

Then, there was silence, save for your heavy breathing. It was like that for a little while, while the two of you caught your breaths, recalibrating yourselves. He was still on top of you, but his weight was a welcome comfort.

You ran your hands down his back.

“You okay?” You asked, placing a kiss to his damp temple.

He grumbled something into your neck, and you smiled.

After a moment, you pouted when he clambered off of you, his softening cock leaving the warmth of your cunt. He rolled to the edge of the bed to reach for the nightstand. He plucked something off of the top, and then rolled back towards you.

You watched him patiently with his cum leaking out of your pussy, making a mess of the hotel sheets.

Gently, with his body pressed up against yours again, he took your hand in his and then proceeded to slide both your engagement and your wedding ring back onto your finger. He did the same, slipping his own band onto his ring finger.

Then, he gathered you up in his arms and held you to his chest, kissing every inch of your face with the same gentleness you had come to love and admire about your husband.

“You feeling alright, sweetheart?” He asked you, lips on your forehead.

“Yeah, m’good,” you replied. “What about you, Mr. Price?”

He chuckled, nuzzling the top of your head and tightening his arms around you, one of his hands coming to rest against the curve of your bare arsecheek. He squeezed it, palming the soft flesh. “I’m good, Mrs. Price. That… was amazing.”

But, despite him enjoying their little role play, he had one dominate thought on his mind. His wedding band felt much better on his hand.

And against your arse, of course.

[yuzuocha]

HEARTSTRING FORTISSIMO. — セイヤ [XAVIER]

a spicier ending to xavier's 'heartstring symphony' memory. gn!mc

age rating ‣ 16+ [suggestive but not explicit]

warnings ‣ softcore, power play, minor asphyxiation. besides that, there's nothing much to warn about. still, beware lol

"Are 'small animals' like me pushovers? Do enlighten me, since you seem to know everything."

Perhaps it was because you haven't seen him in weeks, but it seemed you forgot what Xavier was really like. Yes, he is gentle. Yes, he is considerate. Yes, he is sweet. But his kind demeanor also held something sinister.

You haven't quite pondered about it much, but Xavier had a quiet yet possessive streak. He'd always at the very least have pinkies interlocked with yours when together. He'd always somehow teleport to you just when the enemy Wanderer was about to land a fatal blow. He always knew where you were.

He was a wolf in sheep's (or in his case, bunny's) clothing. He always has been.

“When faced with a hunter who knows my weaknesses and how to take advantage of them…” Xavier’s breath fanned your face, his right hand brushing against your temple. Although gentle, his touch felt electrifying. It felt dangerous. It was dangerous.

The breaths that were blanketed on your lips were soon replaced with lips of his own. You let out a short gasp at the stark contrast between his usual and current kisses — they were usually soft and mellow yet endearing, but now they were intense, brisk and hungry.

“Haa—”

A sigh of surprise left your lungs when you felt Xavier’s tongue glide slightly across your teeth. Rookie error — he wasn’t going to let you breathe for a while.

“...just what, exactly, do I do?” Xavier rasped in between kisses, one hand snaking up to support your body and the other coercing your head to a better angle.

With you growing increasingly lightheaded the more fervent and desperate his kisses became, a thrilling shiver crawled down your spine hearing his growl. You knew the answer to his question down to your bones.

You can only get devoured.

Xavier suddenly pulled away, finally giving you a chance to breathe. He gently tipped your chin upwards for your eyes to meet his blazing gaze while you caught your breath. You felt your body burn in places he locked his eyes with.

“...surrender,” You were able to mumble out. “You can only… surrender, or else...”

He whispered while wiping a lone tear that escaped your eye, “Or else what, I’ll get eaten or something?”

“Is that it, love?"

There was a pause of silence between your noses that were inches apart before Xavier dove down and pressed his lips against your neck, humming in satisfaction hearing you gasp every time he nipped your skin. His callused fingers started to tease your shirt off whilst kisses butterflied over his slow but precise work.

“...I’m sorry, I should’ve responded to your messages,” Xavier paused for a moment, murmuring the apology at your sternum. His hot breath on your bruised skin made you slightly arch your back. “And about my injuries and lack of reply… I promise it won’t ever happen again.”

“...will there be a day where you’ll fall asleep and never wake up?” His eyes softened at your reply as he leaned upwards. You felt his lips pecking your forehead, each of your eyelids, your cheeks and your nose before pausing right in front of your face.

“If such a thing ever happens, you—and only you—must remember to wake me up,” Xavier whispered, his hand sliding to your hips and his hair tickling your nose. You felt something graze up against your abdomen which lit up the fire burning at the core of your stomach. Your suspicions were confirmed seeing Xavier’s reddened ears gently glow through the light of the full moon.

Ah. You indeed missed him, and he missed you too. Greatly.

After a silent pause, you circled your legs around Xavier’s back and kissed his facial features just as he did to yours. His eyes slightly widened at your forwardness, however the surprise faded as quickly as it came as he cradled your body in his arms while pulling you up, the moon shining upon you and Xavier at each others’ full glory.

“I will.”

That was all he needed.

HEARTSTRING FORTISSIMO — END.

tysm for reading! comment down below if you'd like to be a part of the tag list, and if you can, please do consider reblogging! it helps out a lot ;; w ;;

yuzuocha © 2024 — all rights reserved.

[chaniceroses]

Bad Boys Ride or Die (Armando x Reader) PART SEVEN

The sun is barely out now while the darkness is slowly covering the sky. You’re seeing shadows within the woods, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It’s getting cold and you’re probably about a mile away from where Mike, Marcus and Armando were. You’re starting to regret walking away from them but what else were you supposed to do. Sit around and let McGrath find you since that’s what he’s been doing.

So you kept walking until you heard a soft sound of wood snapping which made you turn around. You couldn’t really see so you just stared into the abyss. Someone was most definitely there, the thought of it maybe being McGrath crossed your mind.

“Reveal yourself, I don’t have time for the games.”, you sighed trying to see past the trees. At this point the sun was completely gone and the moon was shining. Allowing you to see a tall dark figure move from behind the tree. You watched as the person started taking small steps towards you, it was Armando. Turning back around, you started to walk again when you noticed that the sound of branches and leaves started happening rapidly. He was running towards you so you started running too. Now we can play his games. You ran as fast as you could to get away from him, making random turns to confuse him. 

“Y/n! Stop!”He screamed while chasing you but you kept running. You tried picking up speed but were too tired so you stopped.

“Armando, have you been following me the whole fucking time.”, you asked,looking at him as he is also out of breath while walking up to you. You knew he was but wanted to play dumb, it was better that way.

“Y/n,you’re a smart girl, you knew that I was.”, he responded back pointing at you. You didn’t like how easy he could read you. How he knows you so well without really knowing you.

“Why won’t you just leave me alone man. I don’t need you.”, you knew that was a lie but it was better to say that then have Armando and the others involved in your mess when the whole purpose with us being out here is to prove Howard’s innocence.

He looked down at you, although you couldn’t entirely see his face, his eyes nearly glowed in the dark. “I don’t make promises at all because things always happen but you can trust me. Even if I don’t like you. I wouldn’t want my…a woman out here by herself. No matter what kind of “killer” I am.”, he explained, going off. He was mad and you could tell. His eyebrows were now caved in and you could tell that his breathing had picked up in speed.

You looked down and grabbed his hand and caressed his forearm. You weren’t sure whether to trust him or not, but you had no choice. You knew it would be a death sentence if you went to McGrath by yourself. You turned to look to the side and saw how you guys were overpowered by darkness, so you accepted your loss.

ARMANDO’S    POV

I watched as she looked around while rubbing my arm. Her hands were soft and her touch was making my friend smile. I could tell that she didn’t want to go back but honestly, she had no choice. I wouldn’t have allowed her to walk out here by herself, I would be a fool. 

“Come back with me, please.”, I begged. Me…Armando…Begging, this is new. 

She turned around and was now looking up at me. Her skin was as smooth as the night time, while her eyes twinkled. Damn, she’s sexy and the way she stares. I would love to see her staring at me from a different position.

“Focus.”, I whispered to myself. I watched as her facial expression changed from being worried to now being confused. Think of something.

“You..need to focus.”, I added, trying to come up with something. I watched as she shook her head in agreement.

“Well, show me the way.”, she replied, letting go of my arms and folding hers. I turned around and started heading towards  the direction that we came from. 

“Do you remember the way?”, she asked following behind me. Honestly, I didn’t but I also know that if Marcus and Mike did what they were supposed to do. We should be seeing a small fire from a distance.

“Yeah so come hold my hand so you won’t get lost.”, I commanded, handing my hand out behind me for her to grab. I was afraid that she would be hesitant to do so and for a second, all I could feel was air going in between my fingers. However once she connected her hands with mine, I could feel the warmth from our bodies connecting. It made me feel odd, a feeling I've never felt before. 

After a couple turns and a couple minutes of running, I spotted Marcus and Mike near the fire that I told them to make. We eventually met up with them and were greeted by the sounds of the woods. Not a single word was said. We both sat down, Y/n and I on one log and Marcus and Mike on the other. We could see each other clearly now due to the fire blooming out.

“So you’ve come back.”, Mike whispered looking at y/n across the fire. 

I watched as Marcus turned at Mike and whispered something to him. Y/n just stared. I wasn’t sure if she was looking at Mike or looking at the fire that was right in front of him. All I know is that she wasn’t here.

“Yeah, so what?”, she answered, still keeping her eyes at whatever she was looking at.

“What the hell is going on?!”Mike yelled, standing up while looking at every person.

“Calm down!”I yelled back. I didn’t like how he was talking to her. We all go through shit and lose people but he was attacking her for no reason.

“Seriously, this isn’t needed right now but Armando and y/n we do need answers.”, Marcus added, looking at Mike and then at y/n and I.

I turned to look at y/n, I didn’t know as much as they think I do. I wanted answers also and even personal questions to ask.

“Okay.”, she whispered looking up at Mike and then Marcus. “I say this one time and one time only with no disrespect added because I’ll be damned.”, she continued pointing at Mike and then at the log underneath him

  I watched as Mike sat down. I could tell she was sick of Mike shit because I was too. I watched as she moved her eyes to look off into the abyss within the woods, maybe trying to figure out what to say.

“My name is Y/N Smith. However, when I was undercover while working with the Cartel, I was known as Rose and was extremely close with everyone that did business within it. So I made sure that only the heads would know what I looked liked and that no one knew my real name. ”, she explained, looking at us. 

“You’re Rose…Rose Gonzalez? How did you keep your identity a secret for so long?”Mike asked, looking at her and then at me.

“Wait…you worked with my mom?”I asked, turning to look at her. At this point we were all searching for answers.  

“ I stayed hidden because I killed anyone who wasn't supposed to see me or would tell. So I guess you could say I have a lot of blood on my hands.”, she whispered, turning her hands around to look at her palms.

“I knew that you were undercover Mike because I had worked with you. We just had never met. Same with you, Armando.”, she answered, turning to look at me. I could see regret fill her eyes, what else was she holding back?

“The operation that Mike was working on, blew up in my face at the wrong time. So I had to actually become a boss in order for my identity not to be revealed because they were killing their own people to figure out who was undercover.”

“I remember that happening…someone was talking to me on the phone while I did it.”, I replied, reminiscing about it. My mind started playing back to that night, I was on the phone with a woman and she was calling all of the shots and was paying me heavy money for it.

“So, that was you that night?”I asked, keeping my attention on her. I could tell she was becoming uncomfortable with talking about her past, maybe this is why she’s been all over the place.

“This is starting to make sense but…how does this correlate with you and McGrath and Howard? How did you know him?"Mike interrogated, scratching the back of his head.

" I met your mom while she was in prison, a little before we helped her get out and with McGrath... He came up to me and introduced himself to me. At first, I was afraid, thinking it could be a set up with how deep I had gotten to my role but after a while of seeing him, I became drawn towards him. That deep harsh voice that he has, kind of like yours Armando besides the accent, pulled me in.”, she explained, grabbing the rocks that were by her feet.

“So it was one of those falling in love bullshit.”, I scoffed, rubbing the back of my neck but blushing at the fact she mentioned my accent. I watched as she snapped her head to look at me really fast. I couldn’t help but to feel jealous inside but the pieces are connecting between her and McGrath.

“It wasn’t bullshit at the time. I was hooked, although I was young, very young. And me being with him, made him look like a pervert. I was genuinely hooked.”

“I guess you can say she’s a"DILF ".”, Marcus laughed 

I wasn’t sure how to respond to his comment, I thought it was kind of disrespectful knowing what she’s been through. “So what happened for him to hate you.”, I asked, shifting my whole body towards her. I wanted to know every detail about their relationship, her past. I wanted her and I wanted to fill and complete her. Sexually and Spiritually.

“He proposed to me about a year and a half later. I was terrified because he never knew that I was undercover, and I didn’t want to get a random citizen involved. It was things within that nature that I had to think about…”

“Did you say yes?”Mike questioned moving away from Marcus to sit next to the log that was near y/n.

He was intrigued by her past, I could tell by the way he was leaning in towards her. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t too.

“I did, and I knew I was asking for a death sentence but I had no choice but to say yes.”, she replied, shaking her head. She didn't acknowledge anyone’s presence anymore, she was just talking and listening to the questions that were being asked.

“I was pregnant and I had told him, some may think he proposed to lock me down but I look at it as him genuinely loving me however, you never know with men…”

You’d know with me…

“Okay so this makes sense but still…with Howard death, and  McGrath hating you? You had to have done something.”Marcus interrogated standing up.

“I knew about you being an undercover Mike, I just never said anything because you would’ve been killed plus Howard told me so once your operation was a success with Armando’s mother being sent to prison, it became a death trap for everyone else who were still in hiding. Which is what had happened. I didn’t know that McGrath was a D.E.A Agent, I had no clue.”, she whispered.

At this point, I could tell that she was on the verge of tears. The jealousy that I once had in my body was now turning soft. I slightly moved my head to Marcus and Mike to see them looking at her with sympathy.

“I had called the heads and formed a meeting so that we could talk about Armando’s mom being sent to prison. At this point of time, I was passed being undercover, I was drawn in. I wanted her out so that’s when I called you, Armando, and formed a plan but while I was on the phone with you, the other Cartel members brought in McGrath, which left me so confused, which is why I had randomly hung up.”, she replied, getting up to pace back and forth.

“I thought…I thought maybe he followed me because from time to time I made it hard for him to see me ....so that he could be safe y’know.  I never knew that he was an undercover agent. He would talk to me about things that he would do and feed me fun facts that had honestly helped me with my operation, however it never got to me that he was being literal because he would always laugh. So when he and his team showed up, there was nothing that I could do. I couldn’t help because that would’ve gotten me killed so I sent them to one of the rooms for them to be dealt with.”, she cried, shaking her head back and forth.

I stood up, and grabbed her to embrace her with a hug. I wasn’t used to having sympathy for others but y/n was different and I didn’t care about the  stupid expression that was on Mike and Marcus faces. I just knew that she needed to be comforted and I was going to be the one to do that.

I lifted her chin so that she could look up at me. Her cheeks were wet from the tears that ran down it so I took off my orange prison shirt, exposing my entire upper body and wiped her face with it. I figured it would be the littlest things that counted.

“Are we…interrupting anything?”Marcus coughed, throwing his shoulders at Mike.

“Yeah…I’m wondering the same thing.”, Mike replied, looking at him.

I watched as Y/n grabbed my hand and stopped me from wiping her cheeks. Was she embarrassed that I was consoling her? 

“Thank you Armando but just stop. I don’t need sympathy, I just need you guys to listen, okay”, she sighed moving across the fireplace. I watched as she sat on the other side alone, so much for me trying to help.

“After I sent them into one of the rooms, I figured that they would be just beaten because I didn’t tell the others, who were allowed to be in the room with me, to kill them. But when I went to check to get information out of them, they were all dead except McGrath. Their heads were cut off and they kept McGrath alive to torture him.”, she continued, leaning her weight towards the back of the log.

“So that’s why he hates you, you chose yourself over love.”, I whispered, looking over at her. I saw as she looked over defeatedly. I wasn’t sure if that was a smart decision or a dumb one. She was young and alone, surrounded by Cartels, but that’s no excuse because  if that was me, I would’ve done something to save the person that I love. I guess we're two different people.

“He was so mad at me for my decision that it took me a while to get some information out of him, however, I eventually got it and allowed him to tell the Cartel about Mike’s operation and those who were involved so that they can let him go, which they did.”, she continued, shrugging her shoulders.

I could see that she was slowly starting to accept what had happened, which was good but I couldn’t help thinking about the decision that she made. Was it really worth it? I turned my attention to her stomach after realizing that she mentioned about her being pregnant. She must’ve been watching because she looked down also and touched her stomach.

“Yeah after he was free, and the Cartel started moving around. The word got out fast about how they were going to move and I knew that they were slowly growing suspicious about me so I went to my house off the coast to get my things to try to leave.”

“He was there wasn’t he.”, Marcus said looking at her.

“Yep, he was there and I didn’t know. I was on the phone with Howard to let him know where I was going and to tell my team to get me a new name ready with a fake background. He snuck up on me and shot me in the back twice.”, she replied standing up, while pulling her pants off her hips to reveal the two scars on her lower back. 

My heart sank, making me remember the promise that I told her earlier. I for sure was going to make sure that I keep it now.

“Yep, Howard heard it all and everything that McGrath was saying. McGrath took my phone and looked through all of my documents while i layed on the ground crying. I watched him leave at some point and I don’t know what happened after that, all I know is that I woke up in the hospital with heavy security and Howard. He was there the whole time for me while I mourned. Since then, I've been trying to figure out what to do, so that’s why Howard said what he said in the video.”

“And that being about McGrath?”Mike muttered, fidgeting his fingers. 

“Majority of it, yes. The rest is just personal, you know, starting a new peaceful life…getting married, having kids.”, she blushed looking at Marcus and then at Mike.

“She should be looking at me, I can give her that.”, I thought while watching her blush. Settling down has crossed my mind before, maybe I can do that with her. If she doesn’t continue to play hard to get. Decisions.

“Thanks for explaining everything to us, y/n. We appreciate that.”, Marcus smiled while nodding his head up and down.

“Yes…thank you and y/n, I’m sorry.”Mike apologized,  getting up and walking towards her. You watched as she got up and looked at him while he went up to her. Was she going to accept it? Or maybe make him get on his knees? Hell, I know I would for her.

“It’s okay, pull that shit again and you’re dead…”, she replied, looking at him as he threw his hand out for a handshake. I watched as he laughed and as she stared right into his eyes. She wasn’t kidding.

“I’m not joking, I will.”, she repeated this time, grabbing his hand and shaking it.

I could see Mike's face switch from laughing to serious within a second. I loved how serious of a person she is and the dominant personality follows after that. It made me want to be submissive, just for her and to make the thing between my legs cry.

I watched as she let go of Mike’s hand and started walking away.

“Where are you going?”I asked, standing up alarmingly. She said nothing, until she went and sat in front of a tree then leaned her head against it. I just watched, looking out into the thin air to be sure that no one was around her.

“What?”, she laughed, folding her arms while adjusting herself against the tree. She was tired and we were out in the woods with chilling temperatures so I knew it would be hard for her to get comfortable.

“Armando can we—”, before Mike could finish his sentence I got up and walked over to y/n. I couldn’t help it, I felt drawn towards her. The need to protect her and to make sure she was comfortable and safe. 

“What do you want Armando, I’m done talking.”, she sighed, removing her head from against the tree. I could tell that she was sleepy and that she was getting annoyed with the fact that I kept messing with her. Her eyebrows began to droop inward and she was looking up at me with her low eyes while her head was leaned all the way back. Perfect position but the wrong time.

“Don’t act like you’re annoyed with me, baby.”, I flirted squatting down to her level to be eye to eye with her. I watched as she covered her mouth while she smiled and then quickly frowned.

“No seriously, what is it?”

“Here, put this on.”, I demanded, handing her my shirt.

“What about you?”, she asked, pointing to my exposed body. Honestly, I was a little cold but I'd rather her wear it than me.

“I’m going to sleep next to the fire but first I'm going to talk to Mike unless you want me to keep you warm.”, I replied putting my shirt over her head, allowing her to put her arms through the sleeves.

“Goodnight, Armando…”, she smirked, leaning up to kiss me on my forehead and then laying back against the tree. The way she says my name, made me shy and bubbly on the inside. 

“Get a fucking room!”Mike yelled, antagonizing y/n and I while Marcus chuckled.

“Shut the hell up Mike!!!”, y/n and I yelled in unison which led to us laughing.

It felt good to hear laughter coming out of everyone’s mouths, especially knowing that in the next couple of hours. We will have to find help and eventually  kill McGrath. I playfully slapped y/n on her thigh and walked away. Mike called my name earlier so I knew that he was going to be up a little longer talking. I had been dreading this conversation with him, it’s my first time actually communicating and being around him.

I sat on the opposite side of the lit fire so I could watch y/n sleep. For the rest of the night, Mike, Marcus and I talked about Mike’s and I’s relationship and how we were going to help Howard and y/n. Truth be told, Howard wasn’t my priority anymore. Y/n was. I want her to live a life that she deserves, and I am going to make sure that she does, whether me or McGrath dies in the process.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Tony Stark + “can you do that again?” + “aw, poor baby, do you want me to take care of this for you?”

I’m such a horny slut for sub Tony and worship his cock

"Welcome home, Puppy."

PAIRING || Husband!Tony Stark x Wife!Fem!Reader

WORDCOUNT || ~ 950 words

SUMMARY || Tony's had a difficult day at work, and you're going to help him relax the best way you know how—by taking full control of him and letting him get out of his mind for a little while.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || Semi-canon compliant. Established relationship. Explicit sexual content.

SMUT || D/S dynamics. Soft Dom!Reader. Sub!Tony Stark. Praise. Praise kink. Subspace. Lingerie kink. Oral (M receiving). Deepthroating. Spanking. Cum swapping.

A/N || This drabble is part of Nicoline's Summer of Drabbles. Nonnie, as soon as I saw these prompts, I got extremely excited, and I am happy to present this story to you! I hope you enjoy it, and I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading and cheering me on during the writing process! 🤍

Photo: Source || All other graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark || Summer of Drabbles

As soon as you received Tony's text, you got everything ready. You slipped out of your clothes, applied an extra layer of his favorite dark red lipstick and mascara, and stood by the elevator doors, patiently waiting for your husband to return. The moment they opened, you heard a soft gasp from your husband, and a smirk was already tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Welcome home, Puppy."

As soon as the words slip from your tongue, he can feel himself throbbing, rapidly growing against the zipper of his tight pants. While he wants nothing more than to adjust himself, he knows better than that, and he doesn't want anything other than to be good for you. To be your good boy.

You take your time as you walk over to him. Your heels clacking against the wooden floor send shivers down his spine as the anticipation builds rapidly. His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth as he looks at you.

He observes how the dark red lace compliments your lipstick and molds perfectly to every curve on your body. It's a flattering shade as it brings out the color of your skin and compliments your hair, too. You're wrapped in a perfect package of lace, and Tony can't help but moan softly when you're in front of him.

Your long, black nails glide over the skin of his cheek and through his neat facial hair, your breath ghosting over his lips as you're face-to-face with the man you love. As your hand glides lower, you slowly unbutton his shirt, one button at a time, before slipping it off his shoulders to reveal his pale, bare chest, a soft glow of his arc reactor in the middle as it's revealed.

You carefully trace your fingernails over the scarring around it, a whimper escaping from your husband's lips. The corner of your mouth lifts slightly as you make your way down, your hand cupping his achingly hard cock in his pants, squeezing softly as he throws his head back in relief.

"Aw, poor baby. Do you want me to take care of this for you?"

Tony nods, but it's not good enough, and you let him know by squeezing just a bit harder. Your movement is not hard enough to hurt him but firm enough to get your point across. He needs to use his words.

"P-please," he whispers, his eyes fluttering shut as his mind starts to go fuzzy as he drifts into subspace - exactly where you want him to be. All he needs to think about is you and the pleasure you're delivering him and nothing else.

"Good boy."

The words slipped off your tongue in a sweet tone as you sank to your knees, your fingers making quick work of his pants before sliding them down and allowing him to step out of them. Once you're at eye-level with his cock, you don't waste any time to wrap your hand around it, making Tony moan loudly as you do.

Your hand slowly moves up and down his length, squeezing at the base and making a bit of a turning motion around his head, which earns you a bead of pre-cum, which you'll happily lap up, moaning at the salty taste of it.

"Angel, p-please," Tony says, and you look up through your lashes to meet his gaze, and you're happy to see his flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes as he's meeting your eyes.

"Please... what?"

"C-Can you do that a-again?"

He stumbles through his sentence as you keep jerking him off, but you praise him once he does, which makes his cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red. He's always craving your praise, and you're more than happy to give it to him when you feel he deserves it.

After a few more small licks at this slit, you move to take more of him into your mouth, your warm mouth enveloping his red tip and thick shaft with ease as his head falls back, a loud groan coming from deep within his chest.

As you work him over slowly with your mouth, his mind goes completely blank as he carefully grabs your head to ground himself, and your nails move from his thighs to his butt, squeezing it before raking your nails over the soft flesh.

You take notes of his cues: the way his breathing picks up, his moans turn a bit more irregular, and the tensing of his abdomen lets you know he's close and all he needs is one more thing to be pushed over the edge.

Before you give it to him, however, you move your head back until his tip is lying on your tongue, your cheeks hollowed as you lift both hands before spanking both his cheeks at the same time, which sets him off like a fountain.

Tony's brows knit together as a pornographic moan escapes him, his orgasm washing over him with such force that he can barely stay on his feet, legs trembling as he ruts into your mouth, fucking your mouth through his orgasm.

Once he's completely spent, you pull off him before getting onto your feet again and pulling him into a deep kiss. He didn't expect to taste his cum on your tongue, but it's a welcome surprise as he moans into your mouth, your fingers threading into his hair before pulling gently.

After all this, you're practically dripping onto the floor, and you can't wait to take every ounce of pleasure from your husband that you desire - and he's more than happy to give it all to you. He wants nothing more than to please you, after all.

[slutshamethesquirrels]

Infatuation (Part 2)

geto x fat!fem!reader

cw/tw: so much body talk, insecurity, internalized misogyny, flawed reader, minor suicidal ideation (talked about in a non serious/joking manner), bullying, very minor violence, gender heavy implications, mild obsession

It takes a bit for you to get back to a normal routine.

Most of it was your own perception, thoughts mixing and muddying together until you couldn't separate the real from the fantasy anymore. You felt Suguru's fingers on your skin in your sleep, smelled the familiar scent of him, heard his heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Then you'd wake up, alone, and the reality of the situation would buzz around in your head once more. Nothing had changed about your relationship with Suguru, except it felt like everything had. You’d allowed him to get too close, see too much of you. Both physically and otherwise. You wondered if he'd look at you with pity or disgust, and which one was worse.

You craved him like sunshine, you always had, but this had to stop now before you dug your hole any deeper. His attempt at being a good friend had only furthered your obsession. You didn't trust your hands to stay at your sides around him. The cold metal of his chain was the only thing grounding you. It felt like a noose, but you couldn't take it off.

You’d missed the last three days of school. There was no way to go to class and still avoid him, and you had no logical answer for him if he were to ask if you were okay. You didn't know. Part of you hoped the boys didn't care. You roll over in your bed and try to convince yourself they weren't concerned, but your phone buzzes with impeccable timing.

You click the screen on, squinting through the dark of your room at a screen that seemed to glow entirely too bright. Suguru.

you dead?

Boy language is laughable, but you know the sentiment behind it. You type back a reply.

yep!

You throw in a couple ghost emojis and hit the send button, almost tossing your phone back into the sheets beside you before deciding that wouldn't be good enough to get him off your case.

seriously, dude. im fine, just sick.

You’d settled back into your sheets and almost slipped back into the comfort of slumber when your phone buzzed again.

You ignored it.

Until it happened a second time, and then a third-

You snatch your phone again and read the series of messages that had been sent to you.

i don't believe you.

look i know i probably did too much the other day

i didn't mean to piss you off. i think we need to talk.

You don't reply, and roll back over. No more opened doors.

xxx

The week finishes and you’re glad to have the weekend to yourself. Slowly, you were starting to feel a little better about the way things had gone. You didn’t think it would ever fully cease, the embarrassment of the whole situation, but you’d hoped your absence had at least drilled it into Geto’s thick ass skull to take you more seriously when you said you were uncomfortable. Maybe the boys would even learn that not everything is a joke.

The only one you’d spoken to was Choso. Sweet, angel baby Cho. He was always the nicest of the group, a tender hearted individual who wore his feelings on his sleeve like a badge of honor. He didn’t fight you when you said you wouldn’t be attending the benefit, he seemed more concerned about your well being. You’d decided to buy his lunch on Monday to try and make up for it.

Reality TV was helping, reminding you that people had it rougher on the daily. For majority of the day you’d been glued to the couch, trying your best to remain immersed in the lives of rich scumbags who had nothing better to do than lie about which plastic surgeries they’d had and cheat on their partners.

Plastic Surgery.

It was a thought, honestly. If you had the funds to do so, you’re almost positive you would do the same. Tummy tucks and facial lifts and reconstruction until you are no longer what you are. You wanted more than the nepo babies of the world. More than just minor adjustments. You wanted to walk back into school on monday unrecognizable, sit and Barbie and Midge’s table with them, gossip about… whatever it was they talked about and act like you didn’t notice the wandering eyes of other people. Maybe Gojo would try and get Suguru to be his wingman. Maybe this time, Suguru would see you and-

Stop it.

You didn’t have the funds anyway, plastic surgery wasn’t and end all to feeling better, and Suguru– You didn’t want to think about Suguru anymore, or his dazzling smile, or his silken hair, or the way his hands felt wrapped around you. In fact, life would be better if you could find a way to never see him at all, at least that way you could grieve without the ghost of hope sneaking it’s way around your mind every time he stood just a little too close.

Destiny had other things in mind, it seems.

The turn of your lock has you jolting up from the couch, frozen in surprise for just a moment before your favorite dream and worst nightmare is pushing his way through your door.

He looks good. A little too good. His hair is half up, which isn't entirely uncommon but the sides are braided back out of his face, every flyaway perfectly tucked into twisting rolls of silken onyx, and the pieces left hanging look like they've been blown out in loose waves. He's carrying armfuls of bags, one from a department store you know all too well.

“What are you doing here? Did Gojo give you my spare key?”

You don't even attempt to get off the couch and help him. He can suffer.

He drops the bags in your living room and kicks the door shut behind him, huffing. He's irritated, you realize. He’d never been one to wear his emotions on his face, at least not permanently. He was always trying to pull himself back down to a state of disinterest, but Suguru was sensitive, and at times quick to anger. You’d seen it time and time before.

“Picking you up for the benefit?” He scoffs like you're stupid “Also, you should know better than to trust Satoru with anything, much less the keys to your apartment.”.

A scowl graces his face for just a fraction of a second before he's back to his stone charade, rifling through the bags which you now assumed contained things for him to get ready with. Studying him closer, you notice he's still dressed in loungewear, sweatpants and an old white t-shirt.

“He lives the closest, it makes the most sense.” You defend yourself, completely unshy about the discontentment that plays on your own face.

“I have a car. I could be here just as fast and I’m way more trustworthy.” He’s not looking at you, but from the sound alone you know the words are coming through gritted teeth. Something is really gnawing at him, and from his cold behavior you could endeavor that something is you.

“Are you mad at me right now?” You laugh humorlessly while rising to your feet, a habit of yours you know pisses him off but you can't care “You're breaking into my house because you knew I wouldn't answer the door and you're mad at me?”.

He shoots a mean glare up at you from where he’s crouched on the floor, fire blazing in his eyes before he sighs and takes a deep breath. Once he's collected himself he rises to his feet again and crosses his arms in front of him, white knuckle gripping the crooks of his elbows.

“I’m not mad.” Liar “I just don't understand why you wouldn't ask me to hold your emergency key– this is stupid. Get dressed.”.

“I already told Choso I’m not going.”

“Oh, so we can talk to Kamo. Funny, I thought you weren't answering texts this week.” He returns to the bags, reaching for the one from the department store earlier in the week “Not good enough to hold a key, not good enough to talk too. Great. Remind me again which one of those pricks is your personal chauffeur? Which one of them is it that your family takes on vacations? Was it Satoru or Kamo who bailed you out when you got pulled over with weed in your car-?”.

“Stop it.” You spit, teeth grit and shoulders tense.

The two of you didn't fight often, not really. Sure, he would spit awful jokes and you would call him a dick. He’d playfully shove you and you’d playfully pull his hair. ‘You’re an asshole’ had become layman's terms for expressions of affection over the years, but this?

He almost sounded jealous.

And he had no right to be. How many times had you watched him slink off to the bathroom with some bimbo at a party? How many times did you keep your calm while he and Gojo gossiped about their casual hookups? How many times did you stand beside him and smile politely while girl after girl hit on him?

You know it's not the same type of jealousy, which is maybe why it burns all the worse when he freezes in place and dares to look at you like he's soft and sorry. He had no idea what all he needed to be sorry for. Every night you’d cried yourself to sleep over one of his shitty jokes or complete lack of awareness when it came to you. Every way he’d rejected you but never directly. For shoving you into a fitting room and making you face every part of yourself–

“I’m sorry. I just…”

He shakes his head and rises to his feet, closing the distance between the two of you while he speaks. Every step winds you tighter, and tighter, and you can feel the temperature rising to a boiling heat–

“It doesn't matter. I brought the dress and some hair and makeup stuff so–”

He wasn't listening. He never listened. He didn't listen when you told him the first time. Or the second. Or the third.

I’m just as unimportant to him as I am to everyone else.

“I’m not. Going.” The words come out quieter and shakier than usual, dug out of the pit of your gut from somewhere deep.

Suguru furrows his brow, his eyes scanning your face and mind undeniably working overtime. You know what he's doing, looking for a de-escalation tactic. Little did he know you were far beyond that.

He reaches forward, and you can hear your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as he speaks “Yes, you are. Are you really so mad at me that you–”.

His hands meet the cloth of your tshirt on either side of your arms and you snap.

“Don’t fucking touch me!!” You voice comes out high pitched and shrill, crackling under the pressure and Suguru jumps backwards, showing you open palms in a soothing gesture, and it only serves to hurt you more. All six foot three of him, acting as if you could do any real damage. Would he startle so easily if you weighed one hundred and fifty pounds? One twenty? One ten? You doubted it. If you were anyone other than you, he'd laugh, grab your wrists, tell you how cute and silly you were being. But fat girls don't get exceptions, understanding. You're supposed to know your place and stay firmly in it.

“I’m not mad at you! I was never mad! I just can't, okay?!” You're slowly regaining control of your volume and he seems to relax a little, though whether that's due to your declining noise level or his own tendency towards self control is for him to know and for you to forever wonder.

“I just fucking can't. That dress looks ridiculous on me and I don't know what to do with my hair or my face and I just feel so fucking disgusting I–”

“Disgusting?” His question slices through the air like a blade, leaving a heavy silence in its wake “What do you mean?”.

He knows what you mean. He always knew. There was rarely a question he needed to ask you, and yet he asked them anyway. You stand tense and frozen, feeling like a cornered dog.

“Don't make me say it.”.

After a few seconds, he sighs and re-attempts approaching. Instead of touching you, he reaches out his hand for you to take, and after a brief moment of hesitation you do. Like always, he's warm, soft skin caressing your fingers with a sickening kind of sweetness, a mixture of skatole, benzaldehyde, and acetone. The kind of sugary bitter notes that make you nauseous, the ones you’ll never forget.

He sits on the coffee table in front of you, examining your fingers like he might find something incredible there, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he looked for a way forward.

Finally, finally he finds a way to sum up whatever was going on in that stupidly attractive brain of his:

“I’m sorry I don't understand. But I want to.”.

He kills you when he does that fucking thing with his eyes, pinning you in place with a piercing gaze. It makes you want to melt into him, to hide from it by coming closer, but it's off limits. It always has been. You were a recovering alcoholic staring into a locked display case. You wanted to run, before you did something stupid and shattered the glass.

“I’m fat, okay?” The admission burns your throat. You know it's true, and you know he's already aware of that fact, but hot shame sets fire to your cheeks anyway. Still, he has to get it through his thick skull.

“I’m fat, and I always have been, and it's never once been cute. That dress fucking exposes every roll and flab and pudge I have and I don't fucking like it.”

You don't understand it, but his expression softens, eyes warming up despite the pain in your voice.

“I just wanna sit here in my pajamas and watch tv and not worry about it. Is that too much to ask?”.

“Thank you for telling me.” He says, his tone honey soft and intentionally gentle, like he’s some sort of pastor, squeezing your hand reassuringly, “But you’re fucking going–”.

“Suguru, please-”

“No, y/n. You're going. And you're gonna wear the dress. Because I told you–”.

You attempt to pull your gaze away from him, turning your head to the side like a petulant child, bottom lip jutting out almost despite your own will, but he follows the movement, dipping down to stay in your line of vision, his hair swishing dramatically as he does so. When he knows he has your attention again, he smiles.

“--you look incredible in it. I meant that.”.

You can feel tears welling in your eyes. Fuck, what is with him making you cry recently? And why does it feel like you have no choice?

He squeezes your hand once more and you attempt to return his smile. You’re certain it looks painful. He switches to a flat palm against your own, and then slowly intertwines his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles against your flesh, attempting to comfort you.

“You're my date to this thing and I’m so excited to have you hanging off my arm. If you need me to hold your hand the whole time, fine but I’m not letting you talk yourself out of it just because you're insecure. I'm sorry, but then again, I’m absolutely not.”

His what?

He can’t say shit like that, he has to know he can’t just casually say shit like that–

“Is that was this is to you? A date?”

Your brain is short circuiting. You can’t think about anything else. Not the way he just casually called you out, not the way his tone was one of a modern mom-fluencer explaining to her toddler why he can’t have a cookie in front of millions for clout– Your heart is racing. He can’t be serious.

“Is that not what it is to you?” His smile softens a bit, eyes narrowing as he slips into analytics mode, trying to see through your forehead directly into your mind.

Part of you thought he always could.

“I–” You start to feel lightheaded and have to remind yourself to breathe “I don’t know. Did you– do you want it to be?”.

He chuckles, more air than sound, and rolls his eyes at you, like you did exactly what he expected of you.

“Go put the dress on and meet me in the bathroom, dumbass. You’re gonna make us late.”

xxx

By the time you make it to the bathroom, Suguru has a makeshift beauty salon set up in the cramped space, makeup stacked along the cheap faux-marble of your counter, a curling iron heating on a towel. He’s waiting patiently, leaned against the wall tapping away on his phone looking bored, until he sees you.

Warmth and pride swirls in his eyes, the corner crinkling as the corners of his mouth turn up. You can only look at him for a short moment before you’re freezing in place, hands moving to cover your face with an exasperated groan. You’re flanked by your two worst enemies; the bathroom mirror and Suguru. Neither you could face. Neither you could ever see yourself eating in front of–

And then a hand is tugging at your arm, guiding you until you’re sitting on the closed toilet seat. The godforsaken dress rides up with the motion, and your hands quickly fly to correct it, gripping the fabric with white knuckles and doing your best you recover yourself, which causes an amused giggle to escape Suguru.

“How the hell am I supposed to sit in this thing?” You pout, and he shrugs.

“Very carefully.”

You could murder him.

You would be baffled by Suguru’s hair and makeup expertise if you didn’t know exactly where it came from. You remembered when he was learning.

Early Highschool hadn't been easy on Suguru, even less so with the untimely passing of his aunt, leaving two cousin-turned-sisters two look after, to feed, to nurture, to teach. Suguru's parents weren't great, but they were next of kin.

You remembered him watching makeup tutorials in the public library, studying intently and taking notes like he was a pre-med student. He wanted the girls to know how to dress, how to use things no one in their lives had taught them to use before. He read parenting books, kept up with the latest trends via instagram. Hell, at one point he'd joined a facebook group for single moms just to ask for advice from time to time. Initially, the administrators didn't want to let him in, but after a few initial messages and some award winning selfies with Nanako and Mimiko, they relented. He was, like in any other social setting, the shining star of the group. He still had about seven different middle aged white women leaving comments– no, letters of devotion on his page every time he updated his profile picture.

He's gentle, soft hums escaping him as he works on your face, little chuckles when he touches you with something cold or wet and your face scrunches up in displeasure.

You’d be lying if you said it wasn't nice though, being fussed over by him.

What was also nice was the way he kept inching closer. His knee sliding in between your own, his hair toppling forward and tickling your exposed cleavage. At one point he grabs your jaw, angling you a certain way and the pressure lights you on fucking fire. You can’t even help the way your hands fly to the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric there, knuckles scraping against the washboard abdomen beneath.

You're convinced you'll never make it out alive, and the shit he says is worse than any physical action he takes.

“You're so tense. Relax for me, y/n–” As he works on your eyes.

“Open up. Mmhmm, just like that–” As he applies something to your lips.

“Bare with me, good girl–” He purrs while he applies your mascara, cooing at you when he finally releases you and watches you blink rapidly at the new sensation.

It isn't until he steps back to assess his work that you can finally breathe again, lips parted and panting lightly as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and then uses the tips of his fingers to angle your face back and forth, double checking his work.

“Perfect.” He smiles, and all you can do is nod pathetically. The air is too dense for words.

part 1

[avatar-anna]

Aaaah i am so deep in my Harry feels and you write him so perfectly…

So i have a request !

Something i cannot get out of my mind are the lines from as it was “Answer the phone, "Harry, you're no good alone why are you sittin' at home on the floor?What kind of pills are you on?" … and maybe the reader just got home and she’s the one saying that to Harry? Idk …

Anyway i love how you write ❤️ stay golden !

Grief Fic, Part One

so, this turned into a really long fic that's full of angst (perhaps too much). part of me wanted to make it even longer, but i think i ended it at the right point where i could come back to it if people wanted me to.

Part Two

tw: mentions of death, depression, grieving

"Harry? You here?" you called, walking across the threshold of your friend's house. Looking down, you ruffled the hair of the little girl who came in with you. Her hands gripped the straps of her backpack as she skipped into the house, clearly not bothered by the band-aid on her knee or the cut beneath it.

She looked around and called out for her dad, who either didn't hear it or couldn't find it on him to respond. When the skip in her step faltered and a look of confusion and hurt began to creep onto her face, you helped her out of her backpack and said, "Why don't you go upstairs, kiddo? Change out of your uniform? We can decide what to do for dinner after. Your pick."

You hoped that the distraction of getting to pick what they ate for dinner tonight would be enough, but she still seemed rather subdued compared to how cheery she sounded as she talked about her day at school on the drive home. "Okay."

She scurried off to her room upstairs, leaving you alone in the big kitchen that hardly got used anymore. When the young girl was gone, you called out to Harry again, stepping further into the house. You eventually found him in his studio, but he wasn't working.

"Jesus, H. I can't leave you alone for five minutes," you muttered, picking the bottle of whiskey off the floor and screwing the cap back on before setting it on a high shelf where he wouldn't think to reach for it.

Harry himself was sitting on the carpeted floor of his studio, staring blankly at nothing in particular. This wouldn't be the first time you found him in a similar state, but each time you hoped it would be the last.

"Is Harper alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, she's upstairs," you said.

"Thank you for picking her up again today," he said, still not looking at you.

You sat down next to him, draping your arms over your knees as you crossed your legs together. "No problem. I knew you were supposed to be working today, which leads me to my next question. Why are you sitting in here alone? I thought today was a writing session?"

"Cancelled. Didn't feel up to it today."

Harry didn't feel up to much of anything these days. It was understandable, to an extent. You knew he was going through a lot, but it wasn't just him he had to look out for. Harper needed her dad, now more than ever.

"Was it...anything in particular?" you asked gently. Sometimes Harry got cagey when you asked him about his current situation. He would snap or get defensive or ignore you completely. You'd known him for so many years, but in the span of a few months, you had to relearn how to talk to him. "Yesterday you seemed excited to work."

Harry shrugged, which drew your attention to his narrow shoulders. He hasn't been eating, you thought. You quickly scanned his face, and looking past the obvious unkempt facial hair and dark circles, you noticed his features were more pronounced, eyes sunken in some. You thought he was doing better, you thought he was healing.

"Harry," you said when he didn't respond.

Ever so gently, you rested a hand on his arm. His skin was cold as ice, and pale. So unlike the warmth and sunny glow it used to carry. The person in front of you was a shell of the man he once was, and you didn't know how to bring him back.

"Do you know what kind of pills you're on? If they're not working, the doctor can prescribe something else," you said.

"It's not the pills," he murmured. "I just...I just don't know how to function without her."

So you're not taking them, you thought but didn't say. Instead, you gave Harry's hand a gentle squeeze. "I know."

"I don't want to function without her. I—I can't do anything else but exist, and even that's exhausting."

Harry's voice was heavy with emotion, his eyes downcast as he stared at the band around his finger.

You were aware of the dangerous waters he was wading into, and the pressure to keep him from drowning suddenly crushed your chest. You'd already said all the typical platitudes—it'll get better with time, she wouldn't want you to live like this, Harper needs you. Sometimes they were enough to get him out of the house or to sit down on the couch with Harper to watch a movie, but it would only last so long, and recently Harry's mood improvement would dwindle faster and faster. You did what you could to help by taking care of Harper and checking in on Harry everyday, but he was starting to scare you.

"Daddy?"

Your head whipped around to where Harper was standing by the door of the studio. At eight years old, she looked just like Harry with bright green eyes and dimpled cheeks and curly hair. But she looked like her mother too, and though it was nearly imperceptible, you saw the bob of Harry's Adam's apple when he looked at her.

"Hi sweetheart," he said, not standing up to go over to her.

Harper waited by the door, waiting for Harry to do more. To ask about her day or tell her about his or go over to her or something. But he didn't, like he was too exhausted to move.

"Can we—Can we go to the park? The sun is still out and I finished all my homework."

"Y/n can take you," Harry said.

"Or we can watch a movie? Or—"

"Harper, I think Dad is tired. Why don't we—"

"He's always tired!" Harper said suddenly. "He never wants to spend time with me or talk to me! Why are you acting like this!" She went over to Harry and began to shake his shoulders, her cheeks red and eyes imploring. "Wake up! Wake up!"

Harry didn't do anything at first, letting his daughter shake him and pound her fists against his chest. Your eyes welled with tears and your throat tightened as you watched, caught between pulling Harper off and letting her get her emotions out, half hoping it would stir something in her father. It didn't.

"I hate you! I want mom!" she finally said when Harry was still practically catatonic.

He said nothing, but you could see the tears in his eyes as she stormed off, flinching when he heard the door to her room slam two floors up. His shoulders shook of their own volition then, accompanied by tears and sobbing.

"She didn't mean it," you said, pulling him into your chest. Harry's grip was tight despite his lack of nourishment as he continued to cry, warm tears bleeding through your shirt. "She's dealing with this too."

"I don't know how to be what she needs," he sobbed. "I don't think I can."

Your heart broke for the two people you loved most in this world. You'd tried so hard to help Harry and Harper, to take care of her while he got back on his feet. But he hadn't, and now you felt like you were standing at a crossroads.

"I think it might be time to—" you stopped, getting choked up yourself, "to maybe go somewhere."

That got his attention enough to stop crying for a moment. "Go somewhere?"

"I've...looked into a couple places," you said gingerly. "Facilities. Where you can rest and get better and meet with grief counselors and groups. Get the help that you need, you know?"

When Harry's wife died, you obviously didn't expect him to bounce back right away, but you also didn't anticipate the state he was in now. Everyone grieved differently, you knew that, but his grief was all-consuming, slowly eating away at him and leaving him hollow. You did what you could to support him and Harper, but you had your own life, your own job, which was starting to become less and less understanding every time you left early to pick Harper up from school. You did it all happily and willingly because you loved both of them, but none of you could keep going like this.

"I'm not sick," he said. "I'm not an addict. I don't need to go to rehab."

"I love you, H, and I'm worried about you," you said. You put your hands on either side of his face so he had to look you directly in the eye. "Harper loves you, and she wants you to be her dad. You have so many people that love and care for you, Harry, and we all want you to be okay again."

"My wife died, Y/n. I'm never going to be okay again," he said, pulling away from you harshly, voice sharp. "How can you say that? You really think it's so easy? The mother of my child is gone, and she can never come back, and you what? You want me to just forget about her? Forget what we had? I bet you'd love that wouldn't you. That's probably why you've been so eager to 'help' Harper and me. Don't think for one second that you could ever replace her. So just go!"

It didn't matter that you knew this outburst was one of rage filled grief, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. You felt like you'd been slapped, like Harry had reached his hand into your chest and crushed your heart. That was never your intention. Harry was a friend, a dear one, but a friend just the same. And Harper was your goddaughter. You couldn't just sit by and let the two people you considered family fall apart.

But maybe you weren't who he needed.

"I know you think you'll never be okay again, but you will," you said quietly. "Because you love Harper, you will be. One day you'll stop resenting her for not being Sophia, and one day you'll stop resenting Sophia for leaving you. It'll always hurt, I know that, but one day it'll hurt a little less."

You stood up from the floor and smoothed your trousers, sniffling a little. Harry had gone back to staring blankly, but the tight clench of his jaw told you he was listening. "Bye, H."

You didn't leave right away. You made a phone call to his mom first, asking her to stay with Harry and Harper, not explaining why you couldn't be the one to check up on them anymore. Anne had asked you to keep an eye on the pair after she went back home after staying at Harry's place for a month. You'd already planned on doing so, but you agreed. Now the tough love needed to come from someone else. When Anne told you she was on her way, you went upstairs to Harper's room to check on her.

She was crying on her bed, her body curled into a ball around a stuffed animal. Sighing, you walked over to her and sat on the corner of her bed and soothed her back with your hand. "I know you didn't mean that, Harper Rose."

"Why is he acting like that?" she cried, not looking up at you. "Why won't he play with me anymore? Or take me to school?"

"He..." You didn't even know what to say to make this better. "Your dad is...sick."

"Like my mom was?" Harper asked. She sat up, her little face red from crying.

"Not—Not quite," you said, trying not to get choked up. Sophia had been a dear friend to you too. "His heart hurts so much that he can't, or doesn't know how to...function properly. Does that make sense?"

Harper nodded as she wiped a tear from her eye. "He's heartbroken."

"I think so."

She didn't say anything for a minute, as if she was processing that information about Harry. Then, "Does that mean I love my mom less if I'm not heartbroken like that?"

Her words made you pinch your arm to hold back your tears. It wasn't fair to Harper that she had to deal with all of this at a young age; she didn't deserve to have these thoughts or ask these questions, and selfishly, a part of you deep down felt you didn't deserve to answer them.

"No, of course not, kiddo. Your dad just—you and your dad loved her differently. And I think part of him is sad that you lost your mom and not just that he lost his wife."

"I don't understand," she said, her voice trembling. "When will he be normal again?"

"Do you think you'll feel normal again?" you asked her gently. Harper shrugged, more tears silently leaking out of the corners of her eyes. "People's hearts and minds react differently when someone dies. And right now, your dad's mind is telling him not to get out of bed or take care of himself or take care of you. It doesn't make sense to you or me, but it makes sense to him."

"Oh." Harper looked contemplative again, her eyes trained on the yellow patterned bedspread beneath her. Everything in her room was some shade of yellow—walls, curtains, lampshades, the sun behind the bedframe that Sophia painted—everything was made to feel warm and inviting. "What do we do now? How do we help him?"

"Well, what do you do when you're sick?"

"Go to a doctor."

"That's right," you said. "He's gonna go to the doctor, and the doctor will tell us what we should do. And in the meantime, you just keep loving your dad, okay? You're allowed to be angry and frustrated and sad, but never stop loving him. It might not look like it, but knowing you love him helps."

"Okay," Harper said.

"I called your grandma. She's gonna come stay with you for a little while while your dad gets better. She'll take you to school and pick you up and make you all sorts of treats with you."

"Why can't you take me to school?" she asked.

"I have to work," you explained. "But, if you need anything, you know my number. Just call me and I'll be there, okay? But you and Grandma will have fun, you always do."

You stayed in Harper's room until she fell asleep, smoothing her hair with your hand once more before standing up from the bed. You planned to stay until Anne arrived, but you figured you could tidy up and get the guest bedroom ready in the meantime. By the time she walked through the door, the guest room had been made up and the kitchen was squeaky clean. Harry never came out of his studio, or he went up to his room without you noticing but you were fine with that. You wouldn't have known what to say to him anyway.

You gave Anne the names of doctors and grief groups for Harry, and the name of a good child psychiatrist for Harper. You'd been meaning to set up a meeting for her, but you hadn't had the time, and it also wasn't really your place and you didn't want to overstep. Anne gave you a long hug before you left, thanking you for taking care of her family. Having someone hug you for once instead of the other way around was overwhelming, and you almost started crying right there in her arms.

But you held yourself together for a few more minutes as you pulled away. You promised to check in and help wherever and whenever you could, then you left, slightly relieved that Harry and Harper's well-being wasn't solely on your shoulders anymore and partly sad that you weren't able to help them more.

The first few weeks, you didn't come around the house as much, giving Harry his space. You met Harper at the park when your work schedule allowed it and had her over to your place for sleepovers when she asked.

Anne kept you in the loop, even when there wasn't much to report—Harper met regularly with a counselor and Harry didn't, Harper didn't wake up crying in the middle of the night as much and Harry still wasn't going back to work. Part of you felt like Harry needed more tough love than coddling at this point. You knew he wouldn't actually go to therapy unless you dragged him by the ear or eat something if you didn't sit with him until he was done. But it wasn't your place to dictate how he was helped, so you kept your mouth shut whenever Anne said he wasn't getting any better.

However, that all changed when Harry collapsed. He was so weak from not eating, he physically couldn't hold himself up. Or so Anne claimed. You didn't want to, but part of you thought there might have been some intention behind Harry's actions, or lack thereof. That was when you knew things had to change. If this were a movie, then that moment was the point of no return, and you weren't going to let Harry destroy himself anymore.

"If you get him in a car, I'll take care of the rest," you said to Anne the day after. She'd been apprehensive, but you insisted that this was the right choice. "He can't just sit alone on the floor of his studio all day. Either we do this now or his grief wins."

So it was settled. You didn't know how she did it, but Anne somehow got Harry up and in the passenger seat of your car. He clearly was not pleased by the whole thing, but with his lack of eating, he was no match for you or his mother.

"Where are we going?" he asked, arms folded angrily.

"My place."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not going to let Harper witness your path of self-destruction. You wanna die? You don't want to take care of yourself? Then you can do it at my place instead of in front of your daughter."

It was harsh, but Harry hadn't been particularly amicable these last few days. According to Anne, instead of catatonic, he was rude, his words sharp as a knife and just as cutting. His mother didn't deserve to deal with that, and neither did Harper, but you could handle him. Whether he liked it or not.

"Fuck you," he muttered.

"Fuck you," you replied simply.

Harry didn't say anything else the rest of the ride to your house, which was completely fine by you. You had a plan in place for Harry's stay, but you went over it again and again in your head, hoping it would work. You had Harry's meds, which he had not been taking, you picked out a grief group for him to attend, or one-on-one counseling if he didn't want to go to group therapy, you worked out a schedule that made sure Harry was constantly doing something rather than withering away on your couch. But first...

"You need a shower. I'm not living with you while you smell like that. And brush your teeth too."

"I thought you didn't care what I did," he said, begrudgingly following you into your house. It was much smaller than his, but that was for the better. It would be easier to keep an eye on him in close quarters.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. We all care about what happens to you," you said, leading him down the hall to your small guest room and bathroom were.

You gestured toward the bathroom when he set his small duffle bag on the bed, but he stayed where he was. "No."

"No?"

"You and my mum can drag me around and make me sleep in a different bed, but you can't force me to take medication, you can't force me to go to therapy, you can't force me to live," Harry spat. You took it on the chin, eyeing the way it seemed exhausting for him to just raise his voice at you. "I'm not a child, and I'm not one of your patients, so leave me the fuck alone."

"Lord, give me strength," you muttered to yourself before storming over to him.

You grabbed Harry by the collar of his sweatshirt and pulled him into the bathroom, where you promptly began to pull his layers off one by one.

"What the fuck?" Harry said, too surprised to fend you off, and too weak as well. "Get off of me!"

"You are a stubborn asshole," you spat, letting all the anger and frustration from the last few weeks seep into your voice. Once Harry was down to his underwear and socks, you quickly turned the shower on and pushed him in, holding your forearm against his chest as water sprayed both of you. "And selfish. You are a parent, Harry, you can't afford to fall apart, especially not in front of Harper. You can't do this to her. I won't let you."

Harry struggled against you, but not as much. He looked furious for having brought up Harper, though. But you kept going, needing to say everything that had been rattling around in your brain since he snapped at you.

"Sophia is gone, H," you said, voice gentle but firm.

"Shut up—"

"And it hurts. I can't imagine how much it hurts to lose your wife, but I—I know how it feels to lose a parent." Your voice began to waver, but you willed yourself to calm down. You didn't talk about it much, but you could relate to the situation at hand better than most. It was part of the reason why you helped Harry and Harper out so much. "Harper is strong and brave and charismatic. She's all the good things Soph was. Stop punishing her for it and celebrate it. She needs you, H. If you can't find it in yourself to get better for you, do it for your daughter. Don't do this to her."

Harry was crying by then, and you were too. Water sprayed the both of you, but he wasn't straining against you anymore. When it felt like he was starting to slide against the tiles to sit down, you didn't let him. "Don't do that," you said, using all your strength to hold him up. "Don't let it consume you. Lean on me if you have to, but don't—don't sit down."

To your surprise, he didn't. Harry let you give him a scrub down, starting with his hair and then sponging his body with soap. You left his briefs on for his sake. As a nurse, you were used to seeing every part of the body, but Harry was your friend, not a patient. When you were done, you left him to dry off with a towel and dress with the instruction to be in the kitchen for dinner in twenty minutes. You didn't have to say what you would do if he didn't come. Harry got a dose of how forceful you could be very quickly.

So he came out of his room, and the two of you ate in complete silence. You didn't mind the quiet and were content to let Harry figure out whatever was going on in his head. You did keep an eye on him, though, making sure he didn't push his food around and actually ate it. He did, thankfully; you really didn't want to have to spoon-feed him too.

"Tomorrow I set up a group therapy session in town. It's super confidential, so you don't have to worry about that, but—"

"No."

"No? Really? We're doing this again?" you asked, only half joking.

"I don't want to go to group therapy," he said, and you could practically taste his displeasure for it across the table.

"Well, I thought you might say that, so I also scheduled one-on-one counseling, though I thought you might prefer the group. Less opportunities to talk when there are multiple people in one session." You picked up and quickly washed your plate before setting it down on the drying rack. "Tomorrow's session is at ten. Let me know what you want to do before then, but you're going to one of them. Oh, and you're responsible for cleaning up after yourself. Night."

You left Harry to his own devices after that, deciding to get ready for bed. It was going to be a long few weeks, or however long to get your friend back up on his feet, and you were going to need all the peace of mind you could get.

Three weeks later, Harry was still irritable. You knew he resented you for making him do, well, anything, but he still did them. He went to his group therapy sessions and cleaned up after himself in the kitchen. He just didn't like talking to you. Or acknowledging you. Or looking at you. You were pretty sure all the anger he had about Sophia dying and having to take care of Harper alone was now directed at you. You didn't necessarily mind being his outlet if it meant he was getting out of the house, but it did get exhausting at times. And it made for a very awkward car ride.

"I...can't pick you up from group today," you said as you neared the building where Harry's group sessions were.

"What the hell am I supposed to do then?" he huffed, crossing his arms across his chest like a child.

You gripped the steering wheel tighter so as not to whack him repeatedly on the arm. "Are you really that much of a pampered celebrity that you can't use public transportation? Or your own two feet?"

"Well why the fuck are you signing me up for this shit if you can't take me. I don't even want to go to these stupid meetings."

In a split second, you pulled over and put the car in park. "Get out."

"What?"

"You heard me," you said, the frustration you'd been pushing down the last three weeks finally bubbling to the surface. You'd been patient, you'd done what you thought was right for Harry and his family, but you couldn't be his punching bag anymore. "I've been taking you to these meetings because I want to help you, because I want to help Harper, but you have...kicked and screamed like a child every step of the way, and I—I want you to be better. I want you to be able to handle your emotions in a healthy way, but I—" I give up, you wanted to say, but even you weren't that mean in the midst of your anger. "You're an adult, Harry. I can't force you to go to therapy, so don't. Get out. Do whatever the hell you want."

Harry looked at you for a moment, surprised by your outburst. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, his eyes roving around your face. Searching for what, you weren't sure. Maybe he didn't think you would ever actually kick him out. You gave him as good as he got when he snapped at you, but you never expressly kicked him out. You were pretty sure he was deciding if you were serious or not.

"Out!" you said when he still hadn't opened the door. Now you were going to be late to work.

"Fuck! Fine," he said, then he was opening the door and getting out of the car. It shut with a definitive slam, but you didn't wait around to see Harry glare at you as you rushed back onto the street.

Work sucked, which made your mood that much worse. You normally liked your job at the hospital. It was busy and made you feel like a zombie at the end of most shifts, but the work was rewarding, and you were good at it too. You ran the Labor and Delivery room like a tight ship, everything and everyone had a place. But tonight you were slammed, one issue after another for you to solve. Normally you could handle the stress, but your nerves had been frayed for weeks, and every minor inconvenience didn't feel so minor right now.

Nothing was going your way, patients' families were being bigger assholes than usual, and the charting system was being glitchy. Not to mention you were pulling a double shift, so it was safe to say you were tired out of your mind, irritated, and not as chipper as you normally were amongst the normal amount of stress.

"Y/n, have you taken your lunch yet?"

You looked up from the computer at the nurses' station where one of your coworkers was standing on the other side. "Look at this place, Miranda. When would I have the time?"

The Labor and Delivery wing of the hospital was full of patients, excited family members in the waiting room, OB interns, and nurses trying to maintain order. You could always expect a good number of people in this wing of the hospital, but today was more crowded than usual. In-laws that wanted to be in the delivery room were driving you crazy in a way that they normally didn't, and a surgical intern tried to talk down to you, which tried your practically non-existent patience. It was safe to say that your pink scrubs were very misleading about your disposition today.

Miranda narrowed her eyes at you. "It's thirty minutes."

"I can't. I have to get these charts updated because these idiots we call interns don't know how to—"

"Y/n?"

"God, tell me this is not happening," you muttered before looking up from the computer again. Harry was standing at the nurses' station next to Miranda, who was staring at him with wide eyes. "I can't do this with you right now."

"I know. I just wanted to—"

"I can take your bitching at home, but not here," you said, going back to your computer. Everything you'd felt this morning was still simmering in you, and you didn't want to make a scene at work.

"I just came to apologize," he said, his voice lacking the harsh edge it'd had since he'd been staying with you.

You shook your head and picked up a chart as you began to walk away. "Honestly? I don't have time for that, either, H."

Perhaps you shouldn't have been so flippant, but you were at work, for one. You got into a certain headspace to keep everything and everyone in order, and you couldn't compromise that on a hectic day like this, even if Harry had come to say he was sorry.

"But, Y/n, you still have to take your lunch!" Miranda said.

Stopping in your tracks, you turned back around. Your arms were crossed as you gave Miranda a look, but she just stared right back. She was always the one who looked after you while you looked after everyone else. Sighing, you walked back over to the nurses' station to hand over the chart on your hands. "Ten minutes."

"The law says thirty."

"Fifteen," you amended, then left before Miranda could argue with you. You heard footsteps behind you, and while you knew they were Harry's, you didn't do anything to stop him from following.

The break room was small, just big enough to hold a refrigerator, some cupboards, and a table with a few chairs. You didn't spend much time here, but it did see a lot of foot traffic despite its size.

Sitting down at the table, you rested your head in your hands, your eyes closing for a few seconds now that you let yourself have this short break. Your feet hurt and your head pounded, but you managed to stand up anyway and make yourself a cup of coffee.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, though you weren't really sure you cared. Not right now anyway.

"I wanted to apologize," he said right away, like he was afraid you weren't going to let him speak.

You laughed a little. "Oh? What for?"

You knew you were being difficult, but you couldn't help it. The way Harry treated you had all come to a head this morning, and the shit day at work didn't help your mood, either. Staring at him over the rim of your coffee mug, your heart softened the tiniest bit. He looked like a scolded puppy with his head tilted down and his hands behind his back. It was hard for you to balance the anger you felt for the way he treated you and acknowledge the fact that it was his grief that was making him act this way. There's no wrong way to grieve. It was something you knew and understood, but Harry's grief process didn't make your life any easier.

"I've been...horrible to you," he said, though he still wouldn't look at you. "I—I know you've been trying to help Harper and me, and all I've done was take everything I've felt out on you."

It was hard to find the right words to say. You didn't want to just excuse his behavior by saying he was grieving, but you knew he would never treat you the way he had been otherwise. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

"What made you come to this conclusion?" you decided to ask, curious to know the answer.

Harry smiled sheepishly and chuckled to himself in a way that was embarrassed more than amused. "Therapy. I went after you kicked me out this morning. Thanks for that, by the way."

You couldn't help but grin a little, at the very least because you hadn't seen Harry smile in months. "You're welcome."

"I'm really, really sorry, Y/n," he said once the air in the room sobered again. "I don't know if I could ever say it enough, or express how thankful I am to you for being there for Harper when I couldn't. I'm sorry for all the horrible things I've said and the way I've acted. I, um, I don't magically feel better, but for the first time since Soph died, I want to be."

You believed him when he said that. There was an air about Harry that seemed different than the last few months. And the fact that he was apologizing at all and seemed to have a small grasp of his feelings said a lot. And you wanted to believe him too, for the sake of his own health and happiness as well as Harper's.

"I know it was your grief that made you...act a certain way, but thank you for apologizing," you said.

"Things won't immediately go back to the way they were, I know that, but," Harry said, wiping the corner of his eye. "I wanted to take Harper out to dinner tomorrow night, and I'm hoping you'll join us."

"Not tonight?"

"No. I think I just want to go home and be with my daughter tonight," he said, sounding a little nervous and a little hopeful. "And I'm sure you're sick of me, so I thought I'd let you have a night to yourself."

You took a moment to look at your friend, really look at him. Harry's frame was still narrow, he was paler than usual, and the angles were still a little too sharp and pronounced, but his hair was neat and his eyes were clear, and he just looked different overall.

Standing up, you walked to where Harry was still standing by the entrance to the break room and threw your arms around him. A wave of emotion hit you the second his arms wrapped around you, and you couldn't help the sob that escaped your lips as you held him tight. He felt so frail, like he could blow away with the next breeze. It pained you to feel how everything affected him physically.

"You scared me," you said. Perhaps it was too soon to admit, but you needed to say what had been weighing on your heart since he collapsed. "You pissed me of and drove me insane, but above everything, I was terrified."

Terrified of losing him, terrified of not doing what was right by him or Harper, terrified that he'd never be the same. The fear of losing Harry to his grief kept you up most nights. More than the poisonous words or cold shoulders or childish behavior, you'd been so scared of every worst case scenario it nearly made you sick.

"I'm sorry I've put you through so much. You lost her too."

That made you squeeze Harry even harder. You'd known Sophia first and had been the one to introduce her to Harry. The three of you had been friends for a long time before Harry and Soph had even started dating, and you stayed friends long after. She wasn't your sister, but in a lot of ways she was family, and so were Harry and Harper.

Eventually you pulled away, wiping your eyes and stepping back from his embrace. You felt a little awkward, but lighter too, and hopeful for the future.

"So you'll come? To dinner?" Harry asked, his own eyes lined with tears.

Harry wasn't magically healed. He still had a long road ahead of him to be healthy again, not to mention mending his relationship with Harper. But you decided to believe that he was on the mend, that he was open to getting proper help and taking the right steps to manage his depression.

"It would be my pleasure."

[yukikogazingthestars]

Fukuzawa and Mori with a S/O who is really into skincare.(Separate)

TW: None

Genre: Fluff

Mori

That man is an ex-doctor so he knows what ingredients work with what skin type.

He will take you to the best of the best aesthetic clinics.

If he doesn't know or has no time for skincare shopping, he will ask Kouyou to take you.

He will buy every gift set from every luxury brand for you to find out which brand works better until you've found the best one.

He will stare at you whenever you apply skincare or makeup until you ask " What's wrong with you?"

I doubt he used his own skincare but after seeing you're too stunning and elegant after the usage of skincares, he will want to use them too.

Of course, he will sneak your facial mask and put on his face telling how the facial masks are so relaxing

His favorite will be green tea with calming effect and collagen since he's in his 40

( He's getting older and he doesn't want people age shaming him in his back)🤣

At night, he and his S/O put on facial masks , lie down on the couch and have some quality time.

Fukuzawa

Unlike Mori, this man only knows shower gel, shampoo and deodorant.

He always sees his s/o applying so much liquid and oil on her face but he never knows what those are.

One day, his S/O ran for groceries and he's alone in the house, that's when he let his instructive thoughts win.

He rushed to the bedroom, picking up the pretty bottle one by one, smelling them one by one.

Finally, he decided to apply them on his face. Don't worry, he has seen you doing it every day so at least, he remembered the routine.

You came back and saw your husband sitting on the chair with a book.

( Something's wrong with him ) You thought quietly and stared at him for 2 or 3 minutes.

And then, you giggled.

"You used mine right? "

Fukuzawa didn't answer but his tomato face admitted what he did. You decided you should gife your husband.

Next day,You gifted him with a set of skincare which was released especially for middle aged men.

Now, you're even jealous of him because being 20 years younger than him, his skin is now better than yours , glowing and glowing.

[dawns-beauty]

Upcoming Update: Lunar Lattice Tweaks Full Release

Helloooo Ohmes-Raht enjoyers!

First off, HUGE thanks to @littlemissf for helping me fix a lot of issues I was struggling with, and for being super nice and patient with me! I would not have done the full version without you!

Secondly, this mod will not work automatically with current Lunar Lattice characters. With a little effort, I have been able to update some presets. I had been considering writing a tutorial on how to port your old character heads, but ehhhh...

Anyways, what's new?

All old .tri files have been replaced with their appropriate HPH versions: this will fix crashes, issues with sliders, etc. They will no longer have a truly unique morph, however, though original-look presets can be converted

No longer based on the Default morphs: instead, they use Wood Elf morphs. The headparts/RaceCompatibility script have been updated to reflect this. This also means that Wood Elf presets should be transferable.

Removed the HP LLK brows/scars/etc.: they are simply duplicates of HPH and not needed any more

Separated male and female ear meshes. Edited all ear options to sit closer to the new head morph. Stick-out ears look a little better connected now.

Added two new ear options: Small and Small Stick-Out. These are as close to regular elf-sized as I could get.

Changed up the ear selection: I've added the ear types as additional heads in the Face Part slider. This avoids the issue of ear parts stacking/deleting your eyes, while keeping compatibility with other head parts (like beards etc.)

All ears have been converted to BSDynamicShapes and I created .tri files: meaning they should follow some facial sliders and you can now use the Sculpt tool on them. Can't seem to get them to show facetints, unfortunately, so if the ear base overlaps with a warpaint, you may want to sculpt it down

Changed the eyeglow method: instead of using a mesh with a glowmap, the iris mesh now uses the regular environmental mapping and glows via emissive data. This allows for the iris to be cubemapped like the rest of the eye while still glowing

Changed the eyelashes to use the ones from Fair Skin

Adds the LLK hairstyles as options for all humanoids

The main caveat I've found with this version is that the regular elf ears exist under the merlike ones. As long as you don't enlarge them via sculpting or edit the ear sliders, it should be fine.

I am also releasing a new mod with RaceMenu presets for the LLT Full Release. It will have 4 Full Release Style presets, and 4 Classic Style presets that I've converted to work with the update.

Currently, I need to update all the earring meshes, which is going to be a big job.

Full-sized pics under cut (click to enlarge)

[cirusthecitrus]

People of the Galactic Horde (the OGs)

Since I'm working on a Horde Prime origin story, it was inevitable that one day I would have to come up with designs for his species aka the original spacebats. And well, it was a fun challenge!

(click/tap to have a better look!) My first attempt at drawing other bats was with the High Priests of the Four Temples - the most influential and powerful people on the planet, also known as Anillis'/Prime's teachers :)

See that last guy? That's the emperor of the original Galactic Horde! Though after his unexpected early death his wife had to become the new Prime. Gladly, Horde World was not left without a future heir to the throne^^

Fun thing is, I never planned on making designs for Anillis' parents, since they never appear in the actual story + even the twins don't remember what they looked like. But idc making fanparents is fun! (In my vision Horde Prime inherited the death stare from his mother and the sly misleading smile from his father >:} )

(I talk more about the characters and worldbuliding in my fic "Violent Youth". U can find the link in my pinned post)

I also had to design tons, and I mean tons of episodic characters of all ages, genders and backgrounds. Now after all this training I'm ready to fill the backgrounds with bats :3

Some general notes on the people of the Horde under the cut

Every spacebat is born with a white face. Any deviations were rare and considered a type of skin condition

Facial markings slowly appear once baby bats hit puberty. When spacebats' white faces were seen as blank canvases, the facial markings were their life journey drawn on said canvases. The markings were seen as the real window to the soul. Having no marks as an adult was simply outlandish, people of Krytis even had a belief that such bats "had nothing behind their soul" and thus could not be trustworthy

Facial markings (as well as ears) came in many forms. In ancient times one could tell in which of the four original provinces a person was born by simply looking at their faces. Nowadays it became nearly impossible to guess someone's homeland this way (mostly everyone are people of mixed descent), but to those curious this is how bats used to distinguish one another by their markings:

North - straight lines across/all over the face (e.g. the emperor)

South - wavy lines across/all over the face e.g. (the High Priestess of the Southern temple)

West - straight minimalistic lines (e.g. horde clones)

East - wavy minimalistic lines (e.g. the empress)

Hair never held much cultural significance on Krytis, so the styling was only a question of one's personal preference and fashion trends. Some bats (mainly from the south) saw no point in having hair whatsoever - those would choose to go bald or shave parts of the head to better show off their markings

Everyone had one set of eyes. Only local deities were sometimes depicted having 3 and more eyes. And yes, their eyes and teeth do glow in the dark

I wanted to make colorful bats to futher emphasise their whimsical and peaceful nature :) Well, if u think about it many poisonous creatures are colorful too...

I wouldn't be myself if I didn't say anything about local fashion. I don't have my own concepts at hand sadly, just references, but my main inspiration for the fashion of Krytis are late 90s-early 00s futurism and cyber aesthetic. Here and there u will also see smth similar to mall goth or streetwear style, but it's mostly something what young blood were into

Some bats like the royal family and council members would wear more classy and regal clothes but still more or less modern looking. Such choice of attire was espeically important to the empress, who, unlike her late husband, stayed far away from religion and magic and made it the main goal of her campaign to weaken the influence of the religious community and push for scientific and socio-cultural progress

If you have any questions about the people of the Horde/Krytis, feel free to ask! I'm always happy to talk more about this AU!

[himbofan]

genshin characters' bodies headcanons

ok so we all know that genshin impact's in-game models leave much to be desired, soooo I wanted to explain some of the headcanons I have about characters’ physical features that don’t really get explored in game :) aka genshin but with actual body diversity lets goooooo (no this does not include genitalia) 

I’m using Fenty Beauty Pro Filt’r foundation shades to describe skin tone (you can go to their website here for references!)

cw: description of body parts, mentions of scars/past injuries, sfw

characters: diluc, kaeya, childe, beidou

word count: ~1k

Diluc Ragavindr 

this man is BUILT! 

thick muscular tree trunk arms and legs to support that giant ass claymore he swings around; and a wide, muscular back spread

He has a lot of muscle but he’s not super cut, there’s a slight layer of fat over it all so he has that soft but bulky build (and big tiddies)

big, strong veiny hands with thick fingers that aren’t stubby but not slender, he simply keeps his nails short but doesn’t do any fancy upkeep

I imagine him to be around 5’10” because I like to think he’s a little shorter than Kaeya (who totally makes fun of him for it)

he probably has some old scars on his arms and legs, which he pays little to no mind to

he has a tall nose bridge and a strong brow so it looks like he’s always scowling even if he’s not (no more alien bug eyes lmfao)

He has naturally pouty lips, but when he smiles (which he rarely does) he looks absolutely angelic

Fair skinned but with a warm undertone (fenty beauty shade 105), it’s hard to get him embarrassed but if you do, he blushes easily

The fluffiest hair you can imagine, its so soft and so pretty but he doesn’t really take special care of it so it’s usually just thrown back in a ponytail

He has a fair bit of body hair on his arms and legs, and if he doesn’t shave for a couple days he gets stubble on his face

Kaeya Alberich

Long, lanky and slender, but still muscular

He’s got toned arms and legs from being a Knight of Favonius but he’s not as stocky as Diluc, it’s more like a lean fit situation

His hands are big but his fingers are more slender and elongated

He takes care of his nails and lets Klee paint them sometimes :)

He has a slightly crooked smile that’s oh so charming, but it never quite reaches his eyes

He has the most beautiful long fluttering eyelashes and kissable lips

I imagine Kaeya to be about 6’2” or so, most of that height is from his long ass legs

He also has miscellaneous battle scars but he prefers to keep them hidden so people don’t ask too many questions about his past

Wide shoulders but a narrow waist (for other men to grab)

Much darker skin than the in-game model, and I think his undertones are cool (fenty beauty shade 340 or 450 I can’t decide)

His hair is also fluffy but the strands are longer and coarser than Diluc’s so it falls more evenly; also his hair is wavy when brushed out, but when he wakes up it forms into curls naturally! I also imagine him to take better care of his hair than his brother

Has less body hair than Diluc and cannot grow even facial hair to save his life (he prefers a clean look anyways)

Childe/Ajax/Tartaglia

he’s very muscular and cut from years of nonstop fighting, literally a greek god

He could crush your head between his thick thighs like a watermelon

He’s pretty damn tall, standing at around 6’4” or so, pretty even proportions

This man is pasty af!!! His undertones are cool and his skin has a pink, rosy glow (fenty beauty shade 100)

He cannot get a tan to save his life, instead he gets a shit ton of freckles all over his face and body, the freckles fade in the winter but they’re always slightly visible

His body is absolutely covered in battle scars because he’s so reckless, but he wears them with pride as proof of his training and skills

He has a scar on his forehead that cuts through his eyebrow, giving him a permanent eyebrow slit

His hair is the exact consistency and color of Ed Sheeran’s

His nose has a bump in the middle and it’s a little crooked because he broke it and it never healed properly (he doesn’t care to get it fixed)

His neck is thick and he has a prominent adam’s apple

Slightly thinner lips that are a pale pink, they naturally rest in an easy smile to juxtapose his dead eyes

He has small dimples on both cheeks when he smiles

Beidou

MUSCLE MOMMY, I’d like to think shes in her late 30’s or early 40’s

She has an overwhelmingly large presence, immediately taking over the aura of any room she enters

She has a wide, muscular back rife with scars that she flexes when she’s drunk

She’s pretty tanned from being out on the sea all the time and has a warm undertone (fenty beauty shade 255)

Could also crush your head with her thick thighs or biceps (her lat spread is insane)

Definitely has washboard abs, a perfect 6-pack

She’s pretty tall, around 5’11”

Blunt and thick fingers, she doesn’t bother with fancy nail care but keeps them tidy

Her hair is very coarse, straight and thick, the kids in Liyue Harbor try to play with it using clips and braids but they always fall out because her hair is so resilient

She has deep set smile lines and crow’s feet from many years of hearty laughter

Her eyes are monolid; technically speaking it’s just one eye since the other was lost in a vicious battle a long time ago

She has a long scar running over her lost eye from her forehead to the middle of her cheek, and another smaller scar on the corner of her lips

Her nose is rounded at the end and also used to be crooked from a fight, but Ningguang made her fix it because a deviated septum is bad for breathing

a/n: this was soooo much fun i have so many more ideas for other characters but lmk who you wanna see next :3

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook comes home drunk but bam can’t speak.

> fluff / wc: 2.6k

> warnings: jungkook almost throws up once 😭

note: hello school has been so hectic so i just wrote this to relieve my stress for a bit </3

—

jungkook releases a sigh, scooting closer as if he hasn’t already crossed every inch of distance between the two of you. just by the smell of it, you can tell that he had soju and beer.

“close your eyes, baby.”

he complies with a hum, eyelids softly fluttering shut. as gentle as you can, you wipe off his eye makeup with the makeup remover.

“cold.” he mumbles, sinking deeper into his pillow to avoid the uncomfortable feeling.

you take a hold of his face with your free hand to keep him steady, moving on to his other eye. “stop. don’t want your face to feel all itchy later, do you?”

he frowns in response, opening his eyes again when he feels the wet wipes running over his cheek next. he lazily watches you concentrate on the task at hand. loving hands with the most tender of touches. blurry eyesight tracing over his skin to allow his pores to breathe after an exhausting day.

you squint under the warm glow of the lampshade, and his hand instinctively lands on top of your head, holding back the hair falling over your vision. you press an appreciative kiss on his temple as you pull out a fresh wipe. you clean the remaining thin layer of makeup on the right side of his face before sliding down to his neck, making sure to clean his skin thoroughly.

he feels so much better with his face bare, cleaner and comfier. almost like he can finally breathe after taking off a mask that covered his entire face while he was running a marathon. don’t get him wrong— he loves makeup, and he loves experimenting with different looks to showcase various sides of himself. he considers makeup products to be artistic tools that help him express the entirety of his being, just like paint on a canvas does. but the clock says it’s 1am on the dot, and right now, he’s drained. he just wants to be the human, jeon jungkook.

his eyes glitter with fondness as he watches you take care of him as if he is your most treasured cluster of atoms in the universe. his hand falls on your nape to pull you in for a soft kiss, staying still for a second before puckering up his lips for another. he allows you to assist him to the bathroom after, leaning his weight on another person for the first time in a while.

—

you practically brushed jungkook’s teeth and did the rest of his night routine for him because he claimed that his hands weren’t working, demonstrating it by dropping his facial wash on the tiled floor. you leave him on the bed after helping him into his pajamas to freshen yourself up next. however, upon exiting the bathroom, you’re rudely greeted by an empty bed, the blanket messily pushed over to your side.

“jungkook!”

you heave a sigh, padding out of the bedroom. you flick the main light switch of the living room, and the first part of jungkook you see are his feet, which are propped on the couch. you walk closer and find the rest of him sprawled out on the carpeted floor. you click your tongue and put a hand over the curve of your waist, staring down at him with a questioning look.

he looks back at you with a wide grin, extending his arms to raise the puppy he’s holding. “say hi, bamie!”

oh, so now he has the arm strength to carry a dog? when he couldn’t even raise one to hold his toothbrush earlier?

you meet bam’s drooping round eyes, slowly blinking at you as he is suspended in the air. poor thing.

“you know it takes me like two hours to make him tired and sleepy, right?”

you’d think spending an hour outdoors would tire a puppy out, but no. somehow it makes him more energetic, and you have to play with him for another hour at home before he walks away from you to curl up in his bed and rest.

jungkook pouts stubbornly, his slurred words the same plea he’s been uttering for the past two days. “but i want to teach him how to speak.”

“baby, he’s too sleepy for that right now. look.” you gesture to the puppy slowly falling asleep on his hands, his relaxed limbs hanging out and swaying lightly. “we can train him again in the morning.”

he whines as he kicks his feet on the couch, abruptly waking up bam because of the sudden harsh movements rocking his body. your boyfriend stills, and he lowers down his hands above his face to make eye-to-eye contact with his beloved son.

he faces bam to your side. “he’s awake now.”

“oh my god,” you cry out with your face buried in your hands, knees suddenly feeling weak because you’re so sleepy and he can’t be fucking serious right now.

he should’ve drank more. that way, all three of you would be peacefully asleep by now. bam would be chasing a butterfly in his dream, and you would be getting chased by a dinosaur or a shark with legs. but no, if one is awake, everyone is awake. apparently, that’s just how it goes in this household.

and so, you drop down on your knees and make yourself comfortable on the floor, pulling out the bag of plain popcorn sitting on the lower compartment of the center table.

“just five minutes, okay?”

he only giggles in response, setting down bam on the floor before lying down on his stomach beside the puppy, his hands cupping his smiling face. a young and radiant flower in the midst of spring, and you as the bright and yellow sun.

“so cute,” you pat his head tenderly, his smooth hair pleasing to the touch.

he shyly scrunches his nose. “hurry, before he falls asleep again.”

you both revert your attention to bam, who has now zeroed in on the opened bag of popcorn on your lap with an alert posture, head tilted to the side as he watches your every movement.

you bring out a piece of popcorn, holding it up between jungkook and bam. “okay- bamie, speak!”

you and your boyfriend wait for a few seconds, before you turn to him next. “jungkookie, speak.”

he snorts, pressing his lips into a thin line to swallow down his laughter. compared to yesterday, he handles it better now.

“woof!”

“good boy!” you beam at him with a dramatically enthusiastic tone, feeding him the little treat and patting his head again. bam watches him chew and swallow with satisfaction, and he turns to you again to inch closer— the tip of his paws poking your shin.

“your turn, baby.” you say to him sweetly, petting his head before grabbing another treat. “bamie, speak.”

he blinks at you, his stance and expression unchanging.

“jungkookie, speak.”

jungkook uses his elbows to drag himself as close to you as bam is. “woof!” his lips stay in a big pout with his bunny teeth showing, and you playfully slot the piece of popcorn in the space between.

he grunts when he fails to catch it with his mouth, covering the popcorn with his hand when bam makes a move to steal it away. “yah, i earned this! go get your own!”

he hides the dirty popcorn under his stomach, and you feed him a fresh one. bam barks in protest, standing up on his four paws.

“bamie, i said speak, not yell.”

jungkook laughs while clapping his hands, head falling on your lap in self-orchestrated slow motion. he rolls on his back to lie down properly and to watch bam try to earn his first popcorn. but then his vision goes black, and the world blurs and spins in brain shattering motions. he covers his mouth when he starts to feel the nausea creeping up, keeping his eyes closed until his stomach calms down.

meanwhile, for the sixth time . . .

“bamie, speak.”

bam’s tail wags, and he barks loudly. again.

“not like that, baby. quieter, and calmer. okay?” you mellowly attempt to help him understand, making lowering gestures with your hand. “just a little woof! like this, bamie.”

your voice seems to ease him down as he sits back down politely. jungkook, on the other hand, is straightening out your legs. he took a pillow from the couch and lied down beside you while you were preoccupied with teaching bam. his ink-free arm tugs you closer by your thighs, keeping it there as he nuzzles his face against your side.

he sighs in relief, basking in the comfort of having his lover as close as humanly possible. drowning, even. with the way his body is currently floating. he proves his theory right time and time again: cuddling you is the cure for any type of discomfort or pain that he feels. works like a charm. never failed him. not even once.

you grimace. “are you sleeping now?”

he hums raspily, tightening his embrace.

“but you’re the one who asked for this. i’m not even sleepy anymore.” you complain.

and let jungkook’s response be loud snores as he falls asleep as an exhausted heap on the floor, his limbs holding your body prisoner to his.

your sour expression turns into an endeared one when you feel bam’s little paw tapping your forearm to gain your attention. your heart grows three times its size as he looks at you with his dark and round eyes beseechingly.

you jut out your bottom lip, scratching his chin. “aww, my bamie. daddy bothered your sleep then left us all alone, huh? sorry. he’s a bit drunk. but i’ll give you treats to make it up to you.”

you return the bag of popcorn to its previous spot, grabbing an unopened pack of dog treats you hide in the small box beside it. you rip it open, and bam’s tail wags excitedly, more than ready to be fed.

you return his smile as you wave around the dog-bone-shaped treat.

okay, one last try and you will give up for the night.

“bamie, baby, speak.”

silence.

one more. the last time, you swear.

“bamie, speak. woof. like this, remember?”

still nothing.

“speak, bamie.”

“woof!”

it’s almost like he just said goodnight to you. calm. quiet. casual. and scarily identical to the tone of jungkook’s woof.

you gasp in surprise, eyes as big as saucers as you feed him the treat with your trembling hand. for context, jungkook has been tirelessly trying to teach bam the command speak for the past month after watching a bunch of tiktoks of adorable dogs doing it. his fiery determination deserves to be acknowleged and recognized, especially when he resorted to acting like a dog as a teaching method.

jungkook fought a dog his size at three years old and twenty years later had another fight with a random dog in the countryside when he and his hyungs went strawberry picking. and somehow everything boiled down to this. from barking contests to an anticlimactic woof. it has been entertaining and . . . painful to watch.

and then it dawns on you.

jungkook missed his son’s first word.

his drunk ass just had to deflate and fall asleep five minutes before it happened. you sigh in frustration, watching your child lick and chew on the treat before swallowing.

“can you do it again?”

he sits infront of you in his good boy pose once again, licking his lips, obviously asking for more.

“stay, bamie. i just need to get something, okay?” you say to him as you carefully free yourself from your boyfriend’s heavy arms and thighs.

you quickly grab jungkook’s newest camcorder in the bedroom (still carrying the pack of treats because you’re not as dumb as you were two weeks ago) before coming back to find bam licking jungkook’s cheek. he quickly approaches you again when you sit back down.

focusing the camera on bam, you start filming with jungkook’s snoring in the background.

“bamie, speak.”

“woof!”

the innocent puppy gazes past the camera expectantly, and you break out into a smile.

“ohh? that’s my good boy! good boy, bamie! you finally got it! i’m so proud of you. here, baby. here.”

you extend your arm to give him the treat, and he jumps to feast on it to his heart’s content.

oh, to marvel at a ball of fur made of curious senses and perplexing stamina for simply existing. to form a sacred bond using only single words and hushed caresses. to have such a creature love you unconditionally and co-exist with its guard down despite having sharp teeth that can make you bleed, does it not make you want to become a kinder human?

—

“are you crying?”

“no. why would i cry?” jungkook’s voice cracks, tear-stained eyes trained on the video he’s been watching on loop for the past ten minutes. he’s still in his pajamas, bare-faced and hair disheveled from sleep. he most probably doesn’t even remember that you woke him up and practically dragged him back to the bedroom after getting bam settled back in his bed.

the hangover soup you prepared is half-eaten and neglected, and you’re positive teardrops have fallen into the bowl so you move it over to the side.

any chance that he’s still drunk?

“he really learned it! and we sound the same, don’t we? that’s cool. it really worked.” he rambles on as the video restarts for the nth time, the hand not holding the camcorder tugging at his hair in an attempt to dull his throbbing headache.

you stand behind his chair, hugging him from behind as you watch the screen together.

“you tried to make it sound like it was the first time, didn’t you?”

you sheepishly hide your face on his neck. “bad acting?”

“if my hangover was a bit worse than this, i would’ve believed it.” he chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “i love you, baby.”

“i love you more.” you say quietly, kissing his cheek before breaking away. “now go give him his breakfast so you can experience it yourself.”

he springs up on his feet almost immediately, speeding towards bam’s food bowl. you shake your head with an amused smile, letting him have his quality time with bam as you finish your breakfast.

“baby!” jungkook yells from the living room as you put away your empty plate in the sink.

“whaaaat?”

“come here!”

“wait!” you yell back, washing your hands before heading to where he is.

you find him sitting on the floor with his legs crossed while holding up bam’s bowl. bam is standing infront of him, patiently waiting for his breakfast.

“what’s wrong?”

“look at this!” your boyfriend pouts at you. “bamie, speak.”

silence.

and then he- “woof!”

and bam responds, “woof!”

you look at them back and forth in confusion, before trying it out yourself. “bamie, speak.”

“woof!” he follows your command without missing a beat.

jungkook’s mouth hangs open, feeling utterly shocked and betrayed. you cover your mouth to stifle your laughter.

they can invent their own language if this carries on.

“this is so wrong. help me do it too! i’ve been working so hard!” he wails in agony and disappointment.

you sit beside him, breathing deeply to compose yourself because you feel too guilty to make fun of him further.

damn it, he was already happy earlier. guess you still have more work to do.

you rub his hunched back soothingly, kissing away the defeated look etched on his face. “aw, my love, i’m sorry. he’s a fast learner, so don’t be sad! he’ll respond to you in no time. but first-”

you gently pry away the bowl from his tight grip, warily side-eyeing the starving puppy drooling at the sight of its first meal of the day.

“let’s give him his reward before he yells at you.”

—

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[anticanonsposts]

Hi love so i really love your work it makes my day!💗🌷

I want to ask for something please ☹️🙏🏻, what about the reader have insecurities about their skin tone or some areas of their body, and think konig deserves better?, How does Konig comfort them and convince them after trying alot?

(it's up to you if it's NSFW or SFW)

Thank you so much!! 💓

bro would be so lost whenever you had insecurities bc you were perfection breathing to him idec this man would be so mushy to his person

but per the request here’s a little sm completely SFW!!

cw: talk about physical characteristics, negative self talk

The sun shone through the curtains, y/n’s body started to wake her up, giving a long stretch she was woken up from her sleep to see a beautiful, sunny, warm day. Usually, universally this would be a good omen, a message that today was going to be good. But all y/n could think about was how hot it was going to be and that her wardrobe would have to match the weather. Making her way into the bathroom to stand in front of the mirror, her thoughts started to spiral. The past few weeks had been a bit rough, it seemed like she could find nothing adequate about her skin, her skin that she lives in. When she looks in the mirror all she sees is the bumpy areas on top of her arms, the hyperpigmentation around her facial features, and in the crooks of her body. Everything that women in the media had, she did not. She never saw anyone else with cellulite or anyone else with dark stretch marks, acne, so called ‘beauty’ marks in strange places. She was just so sick of it. She knew that magazines and tv were fake, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

Fortunately her doom-like thoughts were interrupted by her partner König coming up behind her. He braced his left arm against the counter, curving around her body, and turning the sink on with his right hand, caging her in between his body and the counter. He gave the back of her right shoulder a small peck before brushing his teeth. At first his eyes traced across the counter top at their various items, but quickly he grew bored and started moving his eyes across her body. He appreciated everything about her, every single part of her he grew to love. In his mind, light equal to that of the sun came from every inch of her skin, she always glowed to him. If he was being honest with himself, sometimes when she would be upset with some part of the way she looked he would be in turmoil. The idea that someone he saw as so beyond perfection and beautiful could think such ugly things about themselves. He supposed she felt the same way about him at times, the ugly thoughts he would have gnawing away at his self esteem that she would always hush and comfort. He wished he could be that same voice for her and more. He in turn was drawn from his thoughts when he felt a small squeeze against his left hand by hers in response to his kiss.

Moving to stand side by side with her, he spit out his toothpaste and rinses the sink before turning to her. Today he was especially happy because they finally both had free time to go to a fancy lunch together. And seeing as the day was so beautiful, they could for sure enjoy the patio of the restaurant.

“We should probably start getting ready, no?” he says to her with a small smile on his lips, giving her cheek another kiss. She gave him a small smile in return which luckily for her appeased him enough to walk away towards their shared closet. Well in reality he had about ⅛ of the closet and her clothes filled the rest. Considering he had only a few ‘going out’ clothing items, he got ready rather quickly, first getting dressed and then returning to the bathroom to make his hair look more presentable. At which point she went to the closet to find her clothes.

As time passed, y/n got increasingly more and more frustrated. Desperately trying to find something that would cover her arms, her legs, and most other parts of her without looking like a total freak dressing like this in such hot weather. Unfortunately for her, all of her clothes that fit the bill happened to be black. ‘Great’ she thought to herself, today would definitely be difficult, uncomfortable, and she would no doubt be getting a few stares. Once she was all put together she told König that she was ready to go. He definitely did a double take at her outfit choice. But he knew her well enough that he could tell there was something off about her mood. Seeing as she usually came to him when she wanted to talk about something, he didn’t pry.

They got in his car and started driving to the restaurant, and started talking like normal. The worries he had about her mood quickly subsiding. But he definitely notices the sweat collecting on her forehead and how she is turning all of the AC fans in the vehicle towards her, but again he chooses not to call attention to it. Finally when they get to the restaurant he jumps out before she can think to open her door for her. Getting to the host stand, y/n is more warm and nervous than ever. She can feel the hot sun beating down on the top of her head, and the warmth absorbing into her all black clothes.

“Is an outside table still ok?” König asks sheepishly as the hostess is leading them to an outside table.

“Yes of course!” y/n responds trying to fane the sound of comfort and contentment.

She isn’t slick. König sees right through this but lets her sit down at least before questioning her.

“Are you sure you aren’t too warm? Those clothes look a bit hot. I can ask if we can be seated inside instead.” he starts, not wanting to bombard her too quickly to turn her away from opening up.

Once seated, y/n’s condition just gets worse. Sweat now practicall pouring from a faucet from all parts of her body. She looked as if she was getting a fever or sweating out the worst hangover of her life. So, taking matters into his own hands, König stands up and says, “Alright, how about we try out a different restaurant huh?”

“What? I thought you really wanted to try this place?” Y/n responds, knowing that she was not able to hide her discomfort very well.

“It’s fine Schatz, this restaurant will still be here in a week don’t worry I can wait.” König responds before pulling out her chair and leading her back to the car after alerting the wait staff. Once they get back to the car he pops the trunk and takes her to it.

He rifles through his gym bag before pulling out a shirt and shorts that are clean and honestly a bit on the small side.

“Here, change into these so you can cool off ok? Then we will go to (your fav restaurant) and sit inside.”

He opens the back door so y/n can climb in to change.

“Was this just your ploy to get me naked?” She asks with a playful smirk across her face.

“As much as I’d love for you to be naked in the back seat of my car for other reasons, just focus on changing right now baby.” he smirks while keeping his gaze towards the front, keeping an attentive eye out for possible peepers.

Once she changed into König’s giant t-shirt and basketball shorts, making sure to pull the drawstring and tie it tightly around her waist. She made her way back up to the front seat, met with a very satisfied grin from her boyfriend.

“Alright now how about (your favorite restaurant) huh?” he says starting the car and then immediately returning his hand to your leg.

As he starts driving y/n feels the extra heat start to melt off her body, she feels infinitely more relaxed. Thank fucking god her boyfriend could practically read e her mind at this point.

“You know schatz, if you want to start wearing clothes that cover more of your skin, I will be supportive. Will I miss seeing so much of you? Yes, but if it's what you want-”

“Oh no, I don’t really want to dress like this,” y/n starts to say but quickly her voice gets quiet again causing König to look away from the road towards her.

Feeling his strong gaze on her she continues, “lately I haven’t felt super great about parts of myself.”

His initial reaction was pure shock, if she felt ugly or insecure or whatever. How could anyone else on earth possibly feel confident? But he knew saying any of these things would just keep her from sharing similar thoughts like this with him in the future.

“Sometimes my skin just doesn’t look very blurred or cohesive. I have darker areas, areas that seem agitated, and the way that my fat sits on my body sometimes I think looks unflattering” y/n finishes, now fiddling with König’s hand on her leg.

Of course his heart wrenches at hearing this. “Surely you know that none of that is true my dear?” He says incrediously, truly not being able to process what he is hearing. “Normally I am very quick to appease your wants and desires, but please do not dress like this if it truly makes you this comfortable. Because seeing you are uncomfortable, makes me uncomfortable ok? There is quite literally nothing that I would change about your skin or you for that matter.” He finishes now parking the car at the restaurant and turning his body toward yours in the car, as much as he could at least in the semi cramped vehicle.

Sheepishly looking back over to him y/n nods and says, “Thank you baby, I’m so lucky to have you.” Before getting politely shushed and brought into a hug.

König all the while still wracking his brain trying to figure out why she was the lucky one when it was so clearly him. He had a lot of quirks and baggage so the fact that she still saw hers as a burden in their relationship troubled him a bit. But that was a conversation for another time. For now, she felt better and so did he.

The two of them then had a lovely meal at her favorite restaurant, albeit looking a little odd seeing as König was not wearing his usually loungewear and she in gym clothes. But they were both comfortable and happy.

Teehee kind of a build up to the actual request but I hope you liked it <3

[boyfhee]

⋆ NERVOUS · lhs

synopsis · something about heeseung makes you nervous

genre · suggestive, possible f2l

notes · ok. u didnt see this from me.

something about heeseung makes you nervous.

you can't point what it is, but something about him has you lost amidst a hundred different thoughts. it could be because of his eyes, the way they seem ever so uninterested and yet, seem to capture every single detail. maybe, it's the way he speaks, his voice, the tone, the faint smirk that always resides on his face for no apparent reason except adding more to his facial features. or perhaps, it's in the way his hands settle on your waist.

you don't know how you ended up on his lap.

the last thing you remember is coming out of shower and, his amused grimace when he saw you in the t-shirt he gifted you on your birthday. heeseung looked more surprised watching you wear the minimalistic piece of clothing instead of the subtle realisation of the fact that this is the first time you're wearing it in seven months. he tells you how well it suits you and how nicely you pull it off, says it would look even better if you pair it with wide bottom jeans. he offers to help you dry your hair, which isn't odd at all since you both have been used to drying each other's hair, sharing clothes— which is mostly on your side— letting the other person stay over. it's a blessing to have a friend who's willing to share everything.

heeseung thinks you look pretty. you smell like citrus and rosemary, it's as if you glow even more under the dim yellow lights of his living room. but you look pretty all the time— in heeseung's mind, there isn't a moment when he didn't associate your image with all the adjectives one could use to compliment someone. though all that aside, heeseung thinks your shirt looks prettier. it fits you so well, just ever so perfectly; it looks so pretty that heeseung now wants to take it off.

and you end up on his lap, you don't know how you got here. you can't seem to remember it. the hair drier is lying astray on the couch, the towels on the floor, a faint sound of his phone ringing up breaks through the decorum and his hands tighten around your waist to have your attention back to him. for a second, you consider getting away, for he's your friend, best friend, someone you've shared the most intricate and important moments of your life with, maybe it's the fear of losing something that's keeping you on your tip-toes, but all those thoughts evaporate out of your mind the moment his fingertips brush against the bare skin under your t-shirt.

your hands are around his neck, his lips are barely inches away from yours, your eyes refuse to leave contact with his; your breath hitches, heeseung makes you nervous. his hands travel further up your skin, leaving transparent patters all along, and it's as if his actions solely managed to get a control of your conscience, because you lean in closer to him, cupping his cheeks before brushing your thumb against his lips.

it seems as if heeseung has won again.

he pulls you closer as if you weren't already close enough, as if the two of you weren't impossibly close to be any more closer, but he manages to make it happen. while his one hand continues to rest on your back, the other one ghosts up your waist and lands on your thigh, immediately prompting you to exhale deeply. it's not your first time being in such close proximity with someone, but something about heeseung makes it feel exactly like the very first time you fell for someone. something about him is so intriguing that it makes you drop all your worries about what your actions may lead to, compelling you to give into your desires.

something in the way he looks at you is so ravishing that your hands grab the ends of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head before it's discarded in some corner of your room like any other piece of unnecessary stuff lying around. you look at heeseung, your breathe gets caught up in your lungs.

you don't think he can get any prettier.

your fingers skim against his collarbones like feathers, heeseung closes his eyes in satisfaction. you didn't know he had such beautiful layers of expressions under the nonchalant grimace that always masks his face. the nervousness wrapped around your fingers starts to dissolve, his grips against your thigh, you lean into his touch, and heeseung has been trying his best to not kiss you breathless, but he can't control anymore.

he tilts his head towards you, eyes on your lips. it freezes you in your stance. you gulp, leaning in closer, there's hesitation dripping through the cracks on your skin and it seeps under his skin. you lean in further, letting his warm breath fan against your lips. a second passes, you wait for him to take a lead, but you know something's up.

"seung," you whisper against his lips.

and heeseung backs out. "let's do this when you're ready,"

[c0la-queen]

Edd Headcanons | The Older Brother Friend

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Appearance:

My Edd has tan skin and fluffy brown hair. He's got light, scruffy facial hair but he shaves it every so often so it doesn't get too thick.

His eyes are a warm chocolate brown in my head, but because of his powers they sometimes glow green- in the dark or when he's angry.

Edd is the tallest of the crew in my timeline, a whopping 6'5. He rubs this in and will use his height as a weapon against the others. The type to send those "Send this to your short friend" to Tom and Reader.

I am a chubby Edd truther!!! My man is a big cuddly bear!! So warm and perfect for hugs and cuddles!!! But don't be mistaken, he is still fit. Probably the broadest of the group, with shoulders almost touching the door frame. And while his powers do help, Edd is still on of the physically strongest of the group- before he got his powers, he and Tord were equal in strength.

Has to wear glasses when reading or doing digital art, and to help his eyes they're blue light glasses. Has no piercings, but he does have a tattoo somewhere on his body. Won't tell anyone where or what it is. (Only person who knows is the person he made the bet with, which would be either his sister or Tom)

Family Life:

Has one of the most average family experiences.

His parents are happily married. They were always loving and doting and were objectively good parents.

He has one younger sister. They gave a good relationship, the two get along and still stay in touch even when he's moved out.

But, he also had his own struggles. Specifically during high school, he started feelings like his parents paid more attention to his younger sister's achievements than his. They never favored her or gave her better things than him. But he couldn't help but feel like she was seen as the more academic one compared to him.

Despite this, he didn't hold it against her or his parents. As he matured, he managed to fight through those thoughts.

Has his baby cat Ringo, the most precious thing in his life.

Personality:

Edd isn't the dad friend of the group. Edd is the older brother friend. He cares about the others and is considered as the "head" of the group. (Often likes to joke that he's the alpha male). But, he's not nurturing, he's a little bastard. He can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, and can accidentally take it a little too far.

Steals people's things to piss them off. Not anything super important, and he always gives it back after a short while of teasing. If there's something his roommates don't want anyone touching, he'll usually respect that. (Susan is an exception)

Holds objects over other people's heads where they can't reach it. Reader and Tom are the usual victims of this, but if he wants to do it to Matt or Tord he'll float off the ground.

Has his head in the gutter all the time. The type of friend to hear the word "come" and turn to you with a stupid grin.

"That's what she said." "Deez nuts."

Although he's a bastard, he loves the others. He'll remind them to eat or drink water, drag the group outside when everyone's been inside too long, organize the weekend adventures or the game/movie night, and he cooks dinner most of the nights.

Fiercely protective of all the roommates, but specifically Reader. He isn't afraid to slap the fuck outta anyone who is insulting or threatening any of his people.

Loves playing Mario Kart and Mario Party because he can piss multiple people off at the same time while also winning the game.

Works as a commission artist and animator for a studio. He has a whole digital art setup on his desk in his room. While he still works all week like a normal job, he can set his own hours, take breaks whenever he wants, and is able to work completely from home. He just has to get his projects done by the deadline.

He likes Oreos :D just thinks they're tasty.

His favorite band is the Beatles! It's why he named his cat Ringo- he's loved the band since he was a little kid.

Smells like coffee and mint.

Enjoys watching Studio Ghibli movies with Reader. Especially likes My Neighbor Totoro, since its got the Cat Bus.

Has a big metal water bottle that he painted. I think he'd have an emerald green bottle and paint really detailed fir trees around it.

Has a PC setup for animation/digital art, an iPad for digital art, and a sketchbook for traditional art. Likes to dabble in several art mediums. His favorites are acrylic paint, watercolor, and charcoal.

Plays Pokemon games with the Reader during his breaks from drawing. He's an "all physical attacks, no status conditions" type of player. Prefers grass types but mains cat Pokemon.

Cuddle bug. Loves taking naps with Reader. Will fall asleep with her on the couch, on his bed, or on her bed. The perfect time to nap in his opinion is during rainy days.

Would love to get matching onesies with Reader if she asked him to. Proudly takes pictures with her while wearing them.

Lets Reader sit in his lap while he draws or plays games. Thinks its the cutest thing if she falls asleep in his lap.

Takes Reader with him while grocery shopping. But will trap her between his arms while pushing the cart to keep her from wandering.

Can be really intimidating when he's pissed.

Playlist (Based off My Spotify Playlist of Him):

Hollywood Undead

Childish Gambino

Joji

Rex Orange County

Jack Stauber

blink-182

The Weeknd