#clean and clear foaming face wash

[seilon]

one of my number one pieces of advice for transmascs starting t or who want to start t is WASH YOUR FACE. when you wake up and when you go to bed. get a decent acne-preventing facial cleanser and an oil-free moisturizer or whatever works for you and have a routine– preferably before going on t so you’re already used to it. my doctor was really surprised that I hadnt gotten much acne since starting t (almost 2 years now) and though it’s also partly genetics, I know for a Fact based on how quickly my face gets oily now that it’d be infinitely worse if not for getting used to washing my face more often/thoroughly. remember. yes this is like Puberty 2 BUT you have the fuckin heads up this time and can plan accordingly and that makes a BIG difference

[matchamiko]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Lucky Undies

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Warnings: oral sex ( f -> receiving) m.masturbation, mentions height difference (reader implied shorter than Aizawa), reader implied big belly, thighs + ass (ie. not skinny), prev. established relationship, sooooo self-indulgent don’t look at me

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Note: disgusted with myself honestly.

“What are those?”

You stop in your tracks, toothbrush lodged in your cheek and foam threatening to drip down your chin.

Aizawa stands behind you in the bathroom doorway, eyes trained dark on the tug of your sleep shirt over your ass. Spitting into the skin, bending lower and offering more of a view, you finish washing your mouth with heat all over your face,

“I didn’t have anything else clean, s’all I got,” you explain yourself, eyes connecting with his in the mirror,

“And they’re your last resort because?” Arms folded over his broad chest sprayed with dark hair, Aizawa cocks his hip against the doorway, eyes never leaving the peak of your asscheek from beneath the t-shirt. It’s his and it’s soft and he offered it to you on your first sleepover years ago, a little tighter round the middle now but still long enough to pass as a nightie.

“They don’t fit!” You resort with embarrassment, “they pinch my hips and they go up my butt ‘nd roll down my belly if I bend down or even move,” you feel as though there’s steam hissing from your ears, suddenly regretting even putting on the offending underwear. You’d miscounted your laundry days and found yourself wearing either silky lingerie or old high legged cheeky style undies that were a very adorable baby pink and sported a little red rose at the front. Usually you wore comfortable high rise with a trusty band and often times sensible colours so to not show through your chosen trousers or skirts of the day. Maybe you’d wear a thong if you felt adventurous but comfort was key in your relationship with underwear, and being with Aizawa for so long helped you not only explore that a little bit but also enabled you to stay comfortable without judgement or ridicule.

And Aizawa liked your plain underwear, didn’t care much for it really because all he often wanted was them off or not even on in the first place. Complaining about his partners choice in underwear was beneath him; he’s a man, he’s mature and he’d much rather eat your pussy than muse over what’s covering it.

But these? He’s not seen these before.

“Cute,” he says with a gravelly voice, stalking forwards slowly, “you look cute,”

Biting your lip, you shake your head,

“I’ll just put some gym shorts on and do a quick wash, s’stupid to even try to do anything in these,” you grumble dejectedly, turning and even in your limited movements, the seam tugs over your cheek and makes you cringe.

But Aizawa is as sturdy as he is stubborn, a wall preventing you from leaving and a large hand sits heavy and inviting on your hip.

“I said you look cute,” he says pointedly, “not just the underwear, but you in general, seeing your skin makes me - desperate,”

That hand smoothes under your sleep shirt, fingering the thin, stretchy band of the panties with a heavy breath in his chest. The harder he pulls the band, the higher up your hip they go and the further up your -

“They’re just panties Shouta,” you blink up at him, leaning closer to ease his fondling, “stupid uncomfable panties that is,”

“Shh,” Aizawa kisses you quiet, a peck to keep you satisfied while his other hand drifts over to your ass, fisting the fat and spreading you meanly, “just - lemme look for a sec,”

His eyes catch the flash of your asshole in the mirror, panties caught taught and high over your ass and he groans low and deep from his belly. You clear your throat and whimper when he buries his face into your neck, teeth scraping the delicate skin there. Then - his hand rounds to your stomach, fiddling with the little silky rose before tickling the exposed skin of your belly from where the panties had dislodged and folded down.

He doesn’t often explore you this selfishly, having listened to your qualms and insecurities over your body, doing it to prove that no weight could distance him from desiring your body. But he touches you with a filthy selfish agenda and filthier moans.

Thick fingers tease you over the fabric, slippery with your arousal, sliding between your folds and circling your clit with loud little click. It’s shameful how turned on you are at his exploration of your underwear, but he’s no better; hard and heavy and leaking against your hip. ‘Nd when you look down, mewling at the thick forearm jammed between your cushiony thighs, you can see the flushed tip of his cock peaking from the sagging waistband of his underwear, black and tight and baring a hole just above the seam on his thigh.

And suddenly you understand exactly how Aizawa feels with you in underwear he’s never seen before. Because those are boxers you bought him three christmases ago and are also a result of not doing laundry often enough. And when you look up at him with your hand squeezing him through the thin fabric; your shameful desperation is reflected in his eyes.

All too suddenly, Aizawa is on his knees and your lower back is cradled uncomfortably against the bathroom counter, and he’s all up between your thighs with devastating groans and grunts.

“Taste’s fuckin’ divine,” his tongue is hot and so wet against the gusset of your underwear, pulled tight over your cunt and practically frothing with how aroused you are. One hand cups your ass and spreads you, the other is crude and sharply tugging on his cock. At the taste of you. At the smell of you. Nipping your clit through the fabric and sucking hard enough to send you shuddering and shaking right down to your toes.

“Shouta ! S’too much !” You grip the top of his head, hair tangled from sleep but the tugging of the knots seem to encourage him, groaning into your cunt and huffing deep agonising breaths against your pubis. You’re on your tiptoes, one leg lifting a little even to give him space and Aizawa shuffles closer on his knees, haphazardly throwing your leg over his broad, sinewy shoulder.

It’s almost like the sensations are muted, dulled through the thin fabric of your panties. But they’re still there and you fumble with your shirt for a moment before lifting it and tucking the hem beneath your chin so you can look down, down at your boyfriend so eagerly and so messily slurping at your pussy.

He’s feral like this, eyes fluttering and nose pressed hard into your clit, tongue trying to rip through into you but failing miserably. Or not, as it seems that wasn’t his goal, simply content with tasting you through the panties that had entrapped him so suddenly. You couldn’t even feel confused and weird at his random bout of arousal over your too-small panties, too thrummed with pleasure and the shivers of an orgasm to really deep dive it.

It rears its head slowly, but with a strength you’d yet to experience before. All suction and desperate licks, moans and grunts vibrating you just enough to send you jerking into his mouth. Hips moving on their own, tits falling from the grasp of your shirt and shuddering with your movements. Your underwear slips and tugs harshly as you grind through your orgasm, pulled taught only by Aizawa’s insistent tongue and fingers. He seemed to have given up on his own pleasure, or got enough from watching and tasting you, both hands clutching your thighs around his head.

“Let up, oh my god, give me a sec Shouta,” you’re still panting hard, limbs boneless and belly throbbing with every aftershock, cunt fluttering against the sodden and stained panties, “you’re such a - now I really don’t have anything to wear today,”

Your words die from a telling off to a small sigh at the sight of him, drunk on the sight and taste of you. His eyes are heavy, mouth open and shining with your spend, cheeks flushed and chest heaving,

“Good news for me then,” he stands with a grunt, coming in close enough for you to smell the remnants of your orgasm on his lower face - but he doesn’t kiss you. Instead massaging your hips and the tangled band of your underwear, “I’m having you on my face next, ‘nd keep these on,”

He’s a pervert really, snapping the band and making you tut in disapproval. But as you follow him into the bedroom with a sheepish grin and nervous lust building in your chest; you realise you are too, for letting him indulge in this and letting him.

all rights reserved © matchamiko. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[andrsnsgirl]

if you had known that opening a car washing service to raise money for your sophomore trip would have led to you to be bent down on the hood of a car with a pink, squiring dildo in your pussy, you would have done it way earlier. you must admit the idea was quite the eureka moment. it's summer and it hasn't rained for days, all sports have stopped for the summer and being back in town whilst your parents worked all day was feeling a little depressing which was leading to the cars in the town being covered by a thin layer of dust and to you being constantly hot and in need of a cold shower. it wasnt that hard to put the two things together.

you distributed flyers around, hung them up in diner’s, cafe’s and along the street, choose a large empty spot near the road and that was it. d-day was hot and dry, and you only smiled more staring at your pretty outfit in the mirror. low cut jeans shorts that barely covered your ass and your pink coral reef bikini set, one you knew was going to become transparent with the first lick of water, transparent enough to give your clients the show of your pierced nipples. after all, you knew a good show was gonna bring more money, and you didn't intend to waste that opportunity.

with a touch of gloss on your lips and throwing your hair in an up-do, you were ready to go. you had not been wrong. your clients, mostly men somehow, had enjoyed the show, whistling at you while you washed their windows, wet shirt clinging to your chest and foam all over your neck and legs. you had played along, giggling and swaying your hips while humming to the song playing on the radio, smiling widely at the generous tips. and then she had came along. abby, the new boxer trainer down at the gym. you had seen her many times there, she and dina staring at you from the glass window with the excuse of watching dina’s girlfriend, ellie training. well, dina was staring at her girlfriend. but you? you couldn't take your eyes off abby, from her arms popping with veins, tattoos littered in all the right places and sweaty long hair falling in her face as she tucked one side behind her ear.

you got aroused just by staring at her that day, and remembers a long cold shower afterwards, using your favourite clear dildo to fuck yourself open, coming, chanting abby’s name. and now she was here, with a black tank top showing off her muscled shoulders and gym shorts that gave you the perfect view of the thighs you wanted to ride with abby’s hands wrapped around your neck. you see the last car of the day pull up and make sure to refill your tub of now extremely soapy water and put on your best smile despite the main attraction being your body.

abby lowers down her tinted window, smiling at you, "hey, [redacted] right?" you simply nod your head, biting your lips, "yep, that's me" abby just nods, slowly staring you up and down, you feeling proud when you see her stare fixing on the low edge of your shorts. abby coughs and gives you her money, "uhm, thank you for this, i hope it's enough?" you just hums and nods, turning around and going to dunk the buckets in the soapy water and bring them over to her car. you’re excited, adrenaline running in your veins. you’re gonna give abby the best show ever made.

abby is flustered, her ears get all red and hot. the strap in her shorts becomes increasingly uncomfortable to be wearing as she sits behind her car wheel and watches you wash her car. but really she can’t be blamed. she’s pretty sure you are doing it on purpose to rile her up because in no way, shape or form do you need to extend like that to clean the hood, your shorts rising up until all ass is sticking out and you pause the wash before completely undressing yourself out of the shorts, leaving you in just your bikini set. she almost honked her horn because she didn’t think you were wearing any sort of underwear. water falls on your lips trailing to the chest and she curses when she see’s the outline of your nipple piercings poking through the top. you sigh and look at the progress you’ve made, you’ve been working all day without a break and was in desperate need of one.

abby thinks you must be enjoying this game when she sees you prance up to her window with a tilted head. “hey do you mind if i have a 5 minute break”, you whine “it’s hot and i’ve been working all day” abby bites her tongue to not curse, shifting uncomfortably in her seat pushing her strap down, trying to hide it, “uh s..sure.” you watch the movements of her hands and uncomfortableness and take note of her crimson red ears. you giggle, biting your lip once again “cute” you mumble.

the second your break is up you’re right back washing the rest of her car. skin tanned so perfect and on display. your dermals perfectly gleaming in the sun in front of abby, so ready to be marked kissed and ruined. abby inhales and runs her fingers through her hair turning her ac on blast to help cool herself. all she wants to do is get out her car and fuck you open until you go limp, seeing your juices around her strap and coming all over that ass she’s beginning to love. you’re staring at her, all flushed, wet and pretty and abby has her face in both her hands as she groans out loud at the sight. she breaks out of it when you tap her back window. “there is an area that i can’t seem to reach, care to help me?” and abby knows, she knows you’re playing a game and God she wishes this game would end exactly how she wants it to, which means you bent on the front of the fucking hood, moaning loud enough for every bystander to turn their heads.

abby follows you outside, and you just smile at her before bending yourself on the hood, your arms stretching in front of you, trying to reach a point near the windscreen. abby inhales sharply, hands itching to trace the skin of your back and hips, to pull down that stupid string that dangles on the sides of your bottoms and spread your legs right there and then. you wiggle below her, "can you reach it?"

abby breathes slowly, clearing her throat before lowering down, covering your body with her own and bringing the sponge in your hand where she wants it. she inhales when her chest comes in contact with your wet back, the girl beneath her letting down a soft sigh at the weight above her. "h-here you g-"

abby’s words are cut off by you bucking up under her, your ass pushing back against abby's strap, her end digging in to her clit. a whiny curse comes out of her mouth, your eyes fluttering shut getting a feel of the silicone shape. abby stands still, afraid that if she moves, or if you do it again, she wont be able to contain herself. that's exactly what you want apparently.

the smaller girl turns her head on the side, staring right into abby before you buck up again. you moan at the feeling, eyes wide still staring at abby. "i know you want to fuck me" you mumble, ass moving is small circles on abby's strap, adding more pressure very time, "good thing i haven't stopped thinking about your cock splitting me in half in days.”

abby curses before crashing your lips together, grabbing at your hips to maintain balance. abby unties the string of a bikini you wore and pulls them down your legs. when she gets up, is to the view of a pretty naked girl spread on the hood of her car, legs wide open and fingers playing with her folds and head back. "please a..abby", you whine, foam and water falling from your hair, thighs and back. abby curses, quickly undoing her drawstring and dropping her shorts on the wet ground. she wraps her hand around her own cock, slapping your pussy with "fuck look at you" she says, her finger already circling your clit, "spread out like this on my car, opening yourself up for me. you want my cock that bad?"

you whine, bucking up when abby finally pushes her fingers past the ring of muscle, stretching you out, "y-yes " you mumble, "been thinking about you ever since i saw you in the g-gym window, wanted your cock right there and then" abby hums, fingering you slowly. you are loud, whining and moaning and pushing back against her fingers, asking her to fuck you faster, deeper. "your cock a-abs, your cock" you sight, spreading your legs even wider. abby kneads her fingers in your pussy, drinking in the way you gape and suck her fingers in. she can only imagine how tight we will be around her cock.

and the reality is better than imagination in this case, because the moment you push in, abby knows you won't last long. you let out a silent moans, your walls incredibly tight around abby's cock. both of them are breathing loud, adjusting to the new wonderful feeling. abby trying to grip your waist, the skin slipper from the soap and water. after a minute, you look at her over your shoulder, wet strands of hair sticking to your forehead and neck. you look absolutely breathtaking, tears at the edge of your eyes and lips puffed and red, "move abby please", you plead, "just fuck me p-please" and abby is a weak woman.

she pulls out almost completely, before thrusting right back in, you letting out a loud moan, yours head falling down on the hood with a loud thump, "y.yeah like that". abby keeps thrusting in and out, your body moving along the hood, moans and groans and sighs filling the empty space. she knows she’s fucking you hard, and yet you keep demanding more, faster, harder.

so abby can only grab your thighs and piston with immense strength. you’re falling apart with every thrust, too gone to sound coherent anymore. "fuck you're so fucking tight.. God look at you" abby groans, clit twitching when you push back to fuck on her cock, your hips meeting midway, "taking it so well, you were born to take cock weren't you?"

and you can only nod and whine, mumbling about how good she feels, how full you are. it's when you get up on your elbows, fucking yourself back on abby's cock with the small energy you mustered up, head laid back and the muscles of her back tensing that abby tops over the edge, barely able to pull out before shooting the faux cum all over your back with a loud moan. you whine at the loss, body shaking by being so /close/ and yet not able to come yet. you wiggle on the hood, "please abs i wanna come"

and abby pushes herself to her knees the next second, pulling your cheeks apart and sucking at your swollen clit, her tongue lazily thrusting up and down your slit. with the warm wet feeling of her tongue, you double over, body spasming with the force of your orgasm, spurring white all over abby’s face and dripping on to the hood of the car. it takes a couple of minutes for both to calm down, a minute in which they kiss slowly, abby massaging the skin of your back.

you chuckle when she gets up, and sees the mess on both herself and the car. you turn towards abby, who's staring at the ground, a blush coloring her flustered face and ears seem to have an even deeper red. you just giggle and string your bikini bottom back on going to your bag to out back on your shirt and shorts, before walking towards her and ruffling her hair, "guess i owe you another service since the car is even dirtier than before dont you think?" abby laughs and nods, you wrapping your arms around her neck.

[aloysiavirgata]

Prompt! Vulnerable post-case Scully. She can be prickly (because I love your Scully) but also delicate. Case-related vulnerability is my most favourite vibe in the series and every so often I get sad that there are no more moments to watch. Thank you 💜

By the time she gets around to taking it off, her blood-soaked starched blouse has all but melded with her skin. They have to peel it from her body with a crackling sound. Her jacket is already stiffly tented in the corner.

He will burn those items later, he will burn and burn and burn.

***

Acrid scent of gunpowder in the air still. Blood like pennies baking on hot tarmac. Cortisol, adrenaline.

Terror.

Her grasping fingers, her grasping hands, her wracking sobs even as he pried her away to check for wounds.

***

Mulder helps her to his bathroom, holding her elbow as she staggers beside him like a fawn. Her hair is dried in ragged, bloody clumps.

He settles her onto the toilet lid, gets the bath running at her preferred level of scald. He squirts in a few blobs of his pine-scented body wash, which begin to foam. Scully smiles a heartbreaking smile in thanks.

“Bubbles,” he says, inanely.

Scully’s chest is caked with blood, even with her shirt removed to reveal the stained satin of her bra. Her belly is streaked with it, her black trousers rusty and stiff.

How is there any blood still inside her? How is she still here?

She has her arms crossed at her lap, her head bowed. He cannot see anything but her white shoulders and her draggled hair and her dark, narrow thighs.

“Scully,” he whispers.

She gazes up, hollow-eyed. “He didn’t…” she begins. “We never….”

She looks away, lower lip between her teeth.

“Oh, Scully.”

His hands are gentle at the clasp of her bra; he turns his eyes from her breasts even though he’s seen them.

He unbuttons the fine wool trousers at her waist, slides them down with her dark panties. He doesn’t look or touch or breathe more than he has to because the idea of connecting any of this to lust makes him sick.

Her hips, the dark triangle of sunset hair between her thighs, are also sticky with blood. The lace clings a little and she winces. Her trouser lining tugs. Finally, she is nude. She is so small and so bloody and so bare, like a newborn creature.

Mulder guides her towards the tub, averts his eyes like she is Artemis bathing. Tries not to think the name Diana.

Scully, breast-deep in bubbles. Scully dripping rusty rivulets in the steam. Her tears are silent now, streaking paths down her blood-smattered kidskin face.

Mulder fills a scuffed blue plastic Knicks cup with water, curves his palm around her eyes. “Look up,” he murmurs, and she does, distant, outside of herself.

He sluices water over her head until it runs clear, until she is sleek as an otter, a siren, a goddess. She gasps a little, spreads her fingers against her skull.

Her freckles are magnified by the falling water, her eyes a little too big. A little too round. Her nose is straight and queenly throughout however; her lips parted like a budding tulip.

He massages pearly-blue Head and Shoulders shampoo into the rare, persimmon beauty of her hair. He massages her scalp until she purrs a little. He touches her until his nerves are settled.

“Mulder,” she says, and grasps his forearm in her fine, pale hand. Her face is pre-Raphaelite. Her face is like a D below middle-C; a plucked bowstring, still quivering.

Agent Mulder is already in love.

“Padgett was crazy, he was -“ she begins.

“Sshhhh,” he says. “I have conditioner.” He holds the bottle out, a drugstore brand promising THICKNESS!!! and SHINE!!!

She laughs and it warms him like a hot toddy, like the sun in August, like the sand at Ninigret Pond.

***

Scully is clean, finally, even her smudged makeup rubbed away. They’ve drained and refilled the tub with fresh water, with fresh bubbles. She seems like herself again, not so dazed.

He passes her his robe, turns his head to hold it out when she stands.

“You’re so Victorian.”

“Oh, you know how much I love to lie back and think of England.” He glances over. “The memories are so nice, Phoebe and all.”

Scully ties the too-long belt in a big square knot. “It was kindly meant.” Her smile is soft.

“I know.”

They shift awkwardly for a moment in the small space. Scully looks like a kid dressed up as an angel for a Nativity play in that enormous robe, her bare face and bare feet and tumbled halo of hair.

“Thank you,” Scully begins finally. “I couldn’t have-“

“I’m sorry,” he says at the same time.

Scully frowns. “Why on earth are you sor-“

“My neighbor. So I feel like I..I don’t know. I led him to you.” He picks at a non-existent hangnail.

Scully sighs. “Oh, Mulder.”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t… I didn’t mean to make it about me, I know these are your choices, that you’re not some damsel in distress. I just hate when these things hurt you.”

Things is such an inadequate word, but no word ever could be adequate.

Scully blinks. She opens the door, wafts into his bedroom with the steam. Trails his bathrobe like a court gown.

Mulder follows after, wary. Watches her sprawl on his bed, far from the blood stains in the living room. He’s already called the crime-scene cleanup company.

Again.

She pats the bed next to her. “I promise I won’t take advantage of you.”

He laughs a little at that, remembers her looking a lot like this years ago in Bellefleur, in that awful motel with that terrible brown Clairol wash on her hair. He flops next to her. “Any mosquito bites you want me to check, Doctor Scully?”

She thumbs his cheek. “I was a child.”

He kisses her nose so that he doesn’t kiss her mouth. Though why shouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t they?

“I was a child and she was a child in this kingdom by the sea…” he quotes. Trails off. What are they doing, this isn’t a partnership. This is strange and awful and gorgeous. Her dying baby in his arms, her ova, her-

“In her sepulchre there by the sea…” Scully murmurs. “In her tomb by the sounding sea.” She closes her eyes.

They breathe one another’s air. They breathe artificial pine scent, dryer sheets, warm nitrogen. Faded cotton, old paper.

“Are you okay?” he asks, so he doesn’t slip a finger between her thighs. So he doesn’t say I love you the way oysters love the morning tide.

Her finger at his lips, her breath on his lashes. Her sweet, warm skin and her extraordinary brain and the scarred palimpsest of her body right here.

“No,” she says, stroking his jaw. “But I will be.”

****

She stays with him all night and he stays with her all night and they are arranged like the Lovers of Valdaro.

His coffee pot is programmed. His carpet is soaked in her blood, her gun is going to be the subject of an investigation.

He and Walter will protect her.

***

She loses the robe at 2AM, mumbling something vague about being tangled and too hot. Her naked body is now asleep against his chest and he lets go, finally, in the sweet vulnerability of her slim arms that can heal and kill.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook is too lazy to shower and you’re too weak to resist each other.

> est. relationship, fluff, v brief smut bc aftercare, some angst / wc: 4.7k

> warnings: subby!jk, implied edg♡ng and or♡l (and mention of f. receiving), brief h♡ndj♡b, c♡m eat♡ng, oc lowkey possessive oop, jungkook cries bc he is so full of love then i cried too </3 oc washes jk in the bathtub <3

> in which masterlist!

note: oc is stepping up what else can i say 🤷 and yea it’s jk at the ck event for the second part <3 this is… the sexiest time u’ll get from me i just felt the need to establish exactly how jk is smitten for oc. like i need u to understand!!!! before the next drabble bcoz 🥲 as alwaysss i love hearing your thoughts thru comments/reblog/asks !! <3

—

jungkook’s rhythmic knocking prompts you to blindly fumble for the handle with a slippery hand, sliding the glass door open to get rid of the barrier separating the two of you.

“what?” you mumble, eyes squeezed shut as you spread the shampoo in your hair.

your boyfriend gingerly wipes away the bubbles posing threat to your vision, allowing you to finally open your eyes and bask in his breathtaking beauty this fine morning. he stands by the door wearing only his black boxers, untamed hair and starry eyes softening the edges of your sharp temper. you will never not hate waking up early.

his voice is muffled by the pink toothbrush hanging from his lips as he beseeches you, deliberately using the charm of his pleading doe eyes.

“will you wash me, too…? i’m so tired, baby. i barely slept.”

“okay, babe.” you let out a sigh as you turn on the shower again. “but don’t get frisky. i can’t be late for work again.”

your approval makes his face light up as bright as a clear, sunny sky. why is he acting as if this is the very first time he will be standing underneath the shower with you? you fail to keep an endeared smile at bay.

“wait for me, okay?! i’ll just feed song and ppaeng real fast.”

he carefully closes the glass door, and then you hear it — his heavy feet stomping on the floor as he runs out of the bathroom as if he’s being chased by the hands of the clocks in the apartment.

“so annoying.” you snicker humorously, burying your face in your hands as you allow the water to wash away the thick foam from your hair.

—

“so annoying!” you exclaim as you turn off the shower for the final time, wholeheartedly meaning it this time around. you even took your time washing the conditioner off your hair and cleaning your body, but your patience has thinned and disintegrated into dust.

you reach for your towel, and in that moment, jungkook finally barges in the room.

“you’re finished?!”

your piercing glare meets his ingenuous doe eyes, and he winces guiltily.

“i got distracted with chores. sorry.” he bravely takes several steps closer, stealing a quick peck from your lips. “but i packed up your lunch so you’re ready to go.”

as of recent, your boyfriend has added cooking your lunch to his daily routine so you can spend your midday break at the park instead of a busy and stuffy restaurant. and although you’re dreading the exhausting day that awaits once you step foot outside the house, your heart melts when you think about the hour reserved for you to savor the food he cooked with love from his heart. it’s so easy to feel isolated in this world, but if you think about how the food that you eat requires effort and care to be made beyond fuel to live, doesn’t it make you feel a little lucky to be here?

“i guess i have some time to wash your hair.”

“i’ll take it!” he almost cuts you off, jumping at the offer before another precious millisecond is wasted.

you chuckle at his ardent display of eagerness. “will you fetch my robe then?”

—

jungkook comfortably settles in the far left of the drop-in bathtub where the showerhead is attached to the wall. meanwhile, you’re by his side facing him, sitting on the second step of the low white chair stool you both agreed to buy specifically for this type of situation.

with the heel of his palm, he wipes away the lone tear that trickles down his cheek as he lets go of another irrepressible yawn. he thought that the iced americano he was leisurely drinking in the kitchen already woke him up, yet here he is being lulled to sleep once more.

it was wrong of him to expect you to simply drizzle products on his hair and wash them off in a hurry. so wrong. you refuse to live your life halfheartedly, and that bleeds into your daily actions, he realizes.

you didn’t forget to comb his hair, untangling the knots painstakingly, before instructing him to sit under the shower. and once you were finished with generously applying the shampoo to cover his head, your artful fingers weave into his long hair to massage his scalp in small, circular movements. it’s not much, but you’re hoping that even with only five minutes of this small gesture, you can bring him some sort of comfort after having a bad night’s sleep.

“ah- this feels so nice. you’re healing me.” he sighs in relief, instinctively leaning into your affectionate touches.

you swoop in to plant a quick kiss on his lips before you take a peek at his phone. he has been diligently protecting it from the water, along with his hands.

“so, you’re buying a new polaroid camera?”

he nods, round eyes anchored in the screen as he reviews the product description displayed. “i couldn’t sleep so i started checking them out last night. i don’t really know what i’m looking for this time… i just want it to be black.”

“what made you think of it so suddenly?” you curiously inquire, ignoring the growing soreness in your arms as your fingers travel their way down to the lower half of his hair, consistent with the light pressure to release his tension.

“i want to do that thing.”

“what thing?”

“you know… tha-that thing, putting a photo of your favorite person on the back of your phone.” he stutters, lips curving into a sheepish smile. “you do it, too. sometimes.”

you snort, cracking up in laughter as you’re reminded of a running gag in your relationship. every time they have a new album release, he goes out of his way to ask for his photocards so he can jokingly present them to you as gifts since he’s your ‘favorite idol’. you do own quite a lot of phone cases, including a transparent that you use every and now then. the last one you put in the back of it was a random from his photofolio, the one in which he was doing a kissy face. how many people out there can say that their boyfriend was a vampire once?

“don’t laugh!” he whines grumpily. “you need to pose for them cutely, okay?”

“i’ll dress myself up prettier so you’ll look at me longer than the screen.”

a brand new camera always means having jungkook follow you around like a lost puppy, devoted to learning how to use it as an expert photographer and filmographer.

“but you better be sure not to burn my eyes with the flash again.”

it’s an honest mistake he’s done one too many times, even with his phone.

he scrunches his nose in shame, cackling. “it will never happen again. never. i really, really, really mean it this time.”

“sure, i should trust you.” you grimace, picking up the scalp brush on your lap before standing up to grab the shower head. “put your phone away now.”

swift to obey, he stands up to cross the distance between him and the highest floating shelf where you store the essential oils and small towels, leaving the device in between them for meantime. when he returns to his previous position, you begin rinsing his hair.

“wait- you hold this instead.” you hand him the shower, which he accepts unwittingly, moving it back and forth so he’s covering the entire area.

while he does that, you use his purple brush to be certain that the chemicals will be removed and washed away from his scalp, gentle fingers combing portions of his silky hair aside to reach every spot.

he cheesily smiles to himself under the stream of refreshingly cold water. as someone who goes out like a light when his hair is played with, jungkook is living his best life.

until he’s not.

“shit, shit, shit- i have to get dressed up.” you panic as your phone in the bedroom wildly blares the alarm sound that serves as your final warning. “oh well, i’m done anyway.”

abandoning the brush on the edge of the tub, you regain possession of the shower and run your fingers through his hair one last time for good measure, turning it off straight after.

“drive safe today. i love you. i love you. i love you.” you cage his wet face in your hands to kiss him repeatedly, tasting the coffee on his lips.

jungkook is left alone in the bathroom as you get yourself ready for work.

he side-eyes the bottle of conditioner with disgust. “guess it’s just you and me now.”

—

“i really need to shower but i don’t want to… aish, i wish i had someone to help me.” jungkook sighs dramatically as he rubs his stinging eyes. he expectantly looks over at your figure lying on the sofa, stroking your bare shins propped up by his thighs.

but you pretend that you don’t hear a single word he says, too engrossed in the anime ‘cells at work’ playing on the television to spare your boyfriend a glance. a sad frown appears on his face. he’s yearning for you after long hours of being apart.

he drops down to rest his weary body over yours, hugging your hips and face nuzzling the side of your chest. this impels you to wrap an arm around him, his half ponytail caught between your middle and ring fingers, but your hand remains idle on the back of his head.

he pitifully sobs as he whines, squeezing you tightly. “why am i like this? i don’t want to do anything… i’m too lazy… it’s seriously getting annoying now. what do i doooo?”

his speech is slightly slurred because his cheek is squished against your side. you can feel his warm breath fanning your skin, and your tickled laughter mixes in with the laughter brought by a funny scene. a minute later, the outro rolls in, which is your cue to wiggle out of his snuggling.

with his elbow anchored in the couch, jungkook watches you with disappointment swimming in his eyes as you pause the next episode and begin walking away.

“where are you going?”

you stop on your tracks, turning a little to the side to innocently flutter your lashes. “taking a shower so i can go to bed.”

your answer lights the fuse inside of jungkook, to put it lightly. still dressed in the all-black outfit he wore to an event today, minus the button-up and the stompers, he staggers on his feet. he hastily pulls out the hem of his t-shirt from being neatly tucked into his pants before bringing it over his head. he throws it aside without care, and there he stands with a sparkling silver chain dangling over his bare chest, looking like a walking daydream.

your droopy eyes widen as you’re taken aback by the rather alluring view. it seems that neither of you is making this game easy. “excuse me, mister? what are you doing?”

“well, what does it look like?” he shoots you a smirk, bangs falling over his eyes when he looks down to unbuckle his belt with practiced ease.

and you think that if you just play your cards right, he might wear them around your wrists next. oh no- no, no, no. the only restraint you should be thinking of right now is self-restraint, damn it.

“no, you’re not.”

“yes, i am.”

“no-”

“yes.”

your heart violently races when he begins wrapping the belt around his large palm, raising an eyebrow at you. but still, you stand your ground with a sweet, sarcastic smile.

“you’re not a baby. you’re 27 years old. i’m pretty sure you can shower on your own by now.”

and with that, you sprint to the bathroom before your hot boyfriend can strip off his pants, because you know it would be impossible to resist his charms then.

jungkook collapses on the couch, eyes turning into little crescent moons as uncontrollable giggles rack his body. at last, it dawns on him why you’ve been acting a certain way.

he may or may not have unintentionally snapped at his mother over the phone last night, rudely spitting out the two sentences you just used against him. despite witnessing him call and apologize not long after, you still have your own playful way of scolding him, it seems.

“what a brat.” he snorts as he chucks the belt on the table, having a feeling he will have another use for it later.

he sets his hair free from the ponytail and wears the hair tie around his wrist, running his fingers through the locks to tame the unruly mess. he shakes his head as another airy laugh is invoked from him by sheer amusement, tongue poking the inside of his cheek before he huffs.

“____ is really setting me straight like this…? ah, i’m angry!”

since he’s already half-naked anyway, he decides to remove his accessories, too. he starts with the silver bracelet around each of his wrists, tilting his head to the side as he reads the subtitle of the frozen frame on the television screen.

In the human body, there are roughly 37.2 trillion cells…

“i think i met the right person.” he nods to himself.

—

the air around him is sweltering and he doesn’t know how to breathe anymore.

“ohh fuck, fuck! i’m so— i’m so close, if you d-don’t stop-” jungkook cries out in desperation, losing any semblance of control he has over his body as he writhes on the mattress. “please, please… it feels too good, please. i’ve been behaving.”

“hm, go on, my love. want to taste you.”

your merciless hand pumps his length and your sinful lips scatter sloppy kisses along the tense muscles of his thighs. lewd, unrestrained moans escape his cerise lips as sparks of electricity burn beneath his eyelids, hips frantically rutting forward to chase his high. driven by lust in his dazed state, he holds himself up by his elbows to watch you reward his tip with languid licks of your tongue, sultry eyes staring back at him, and his head tips back into the pillows as he completely falls apart.

he lies absolutely boneless in the aftermath, mind and body floating in the abyss as he attempts to get back in touch with reality and recall his godforsaken name. his white-knuckled fist’s grip loosens, allowing his slender fingers to slip away from your hair when you remove yourself from between his legs. he covers his eyes with his tattooed arm as his chest heaves, catching his breath.

but then he is pulled out from the darkness by the sound of your giggles, bubbly and achingly familiar, coaxing his damp eyelashes to part from his flushed cheeks. with a blurry vision, he watches you scoop up some of the come that landed all over his chiseled abdomen. you push your middle and ring fingers past your lips, evidently debauched and delighted as you hum. your glasses hang loosely over your nosebridge, and he’s clueless how it managed to be clean while staying on your face.

all over again, the filthy scene pricks his skin with desire and coils the heat in his stomach… it looks reminiscent of your first kiss. but after being edged for what felt like an eternity, he’s afraid of what would become of him if he feels another ounce of pleasure.

“baby, you’re so fucking mean.” he croaks out, voice low and hoarse from choked sobs and begs. it cracks, sounding as though he doesn’t even have a voice left.

you’re more straightforward when you crave to be touched, whimpering a simple ‘i need you’ or ‘please take care of me’ with a pleading face as you play with his fingers. however, on the rare occasion that you get into a very… particular mood… you sigh and say ‘i’m bored’ before looking at him with faux innocence in your blown-out pupils… and because you’re just too damn enticing to resist, he ends up in this position — completely exposed while you’re cozily dressed in a t-shirt over your slip-on night dress, the one he was wearing before.

consequently, it has been making his life difficult. he instantly becomes turned on when you utter the commonly used words, even when there’s obviously no other meaning behind them. like when you’re in public. especially when you’re in public. he can foresee this moment flashing in his mind when he finds himself in the same predicament again. at this point, all he can say is heavens help him, he is so fucked. the angel they sent is well-versed in driving him wild.

“i love you.” he follows up, and your smile grows when you meet his hazy eyes.

“i love you more.” you reply in a sing-song voice, also raspy after having him down your throat. you bend down to plant a featherlight kiss on his pelvis, but he wants it somewhere else.

with his remaining shred of strength, he tugs at your arm to pull you in for a hungry kiss, his hand cupping your nape and his thumb rubbing your cheek. your tongue ghosts over the metal ring piercing his bottom lip, and he shakily breathes out a quiet moan.

you’re the first one to break away, pampering his lips with chaste pecks as you mumble, “my boyfriend is so pretty. mine. mine. mine. love you better than anyone could.”

jungkook’s heart does somersaults, the butterflies inside of him multiplying by the thousands with your every declaration.

you pout as you lovingly brush away the locks of hair sticking to his honey skin, glistening with sweat. “oh? are these sweat or tears? you cried again this time?”

with watering eyes, he can’t help but to dumbly stare at your glossy and swollen lips as you coo.

“but you took it so, so well. you were so perfect, baby boy. thank you.”

“don’t act so innocent.” he mutters, tattooed arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, longing for your weight on top of his. “you know what you did.”

you chuckle as you drag the blanket over his body, concerned he might freeze from the blasted airconditioner now that the ecstasy is ebbing away. “but it felt good, right? did i do anything you didn’t like?”

he gets a sinking feeling when you look at him, asking for confirmation as if you didn’t reduce him into this incoherent puddle of beyond satiated appetite. holy shit, he’s the luckiest man on earth.

“mhm-mhm. more than good… always. you’re too good to be true.”

he sighs in contentment when you offer your arm as his pillow, embracing him tightly. his eyelids flutter shut as he feels the soreness of his muscles taking reign. oddly enough, he doesn’t mind the pain at all. he revels in it, almost. gradually, his heartbeat returns at its normal rate.

he doesn’t flinch when he feels a metal straw nudging his lips, instead he sips heartily to soothe his throat. you have pink hearts for irises as you adore his face, falling in love with your lover all over again.

“i love you. you’re so cute.” you giggle, tucking his hair behind his ears as you hold the water tumbler for him. “you’re so red- especially your ears- it’s so cute.”

this makes him smile sheepishly, bunny teeth biting the straw. he pops it out of his mouth to bury his face in the crook of your neck, laughing breathily.

“well if you point it out, i’ll turn redder!”

“is that so bad? then you’ll be cuter.” you squeeze his cheeks together to tilt his head towards you. “come on. how do you feel…? maybe a bit better? let’s get cleaned up so you can rest.”

he frowns. “i want to taste you, too.”

want to get his payback, more like.

“later, my lov-”

he doesn’t waste time in ducking down, hooking a finger around the waistband of your underwear while he sucks a bruise on your inner thigh.

“jungkook!” you giggle, dragging him off you by his hair. “no! stop! i just wanted to play and make you feel good.”

he refuses to relent, stubborn in his defiance, chasing and chasing until his puckered lips touch your soft skin again, peppering sweet kisses. pulling his hair only spurs him on, it looks like, so you end up using both hands to guide his face inches from yours.

“your busy bee needs to go back to work.” you give his pout an apologetic kiss, knowing full well that you’ll be in bed for much, much longer if you indulge him.

you still need to finish the due project you abandoned in your laptop because you would rather do this. or him? for a lack of better term.

“you can do it however long you want if you wait.”

he beams upon hearing your saccharine promise, eagerly nodding in agreement. and with a naughty smile, he pushes his luck. “then will you wash me now?”

and when you take more than three seconds to answer, he rushes to defend himself with- “i deserve it this time!”

—

jungkook is still and silent as he sits across you in the bathtub, extremely drowsy after you gave him another one of your soothing scalp massages when you washed his hair. the scented candle melting over the sink mixes with the drops of lavender oil you added into the water, and not far from it is his phone playing mellow music.

however, that changes when he clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“you’re too gentle. are you sure i’m being cleaned?”

an irritated expression is drawn on your face as you grab his wrist, forcefully making him hold the soapy wash cloth you just started using. “then you do it yourself so i can focus on me instead.”

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding!” he winces when you make a move to stand up. he reflexively seizes your arm to stop you, lisp discernible as he grumbles. “babe, i can’t do it. i have no energy left and it’s your fault!”

you roll your eyes, reclaiming the cloth from his hand. you add a little more pressure to address his concern as you move on to lathering his tattooed arm, a coat of small bubbles decorating the diverse colors of ink covering his skin. you make a game out of neatly smoothing down his body hair.

“you know you have sensitive skin but you’re too rough when you do it. what’s the point of using a mild body wash?”

his brain fails to process your scolding, still weak and fuzzy like cotton, overcome by fragmented thoughts. the beckoning sound of your voice. the intoxicating scent of your newest perfume, strawberry clinging to your skin until now. your cleverness paired with seduction equals his blissful doom. your tenderness while you were making him cry. after making him cry. even when he’s not crying at all.

“____,”

your eyes flicker up to him in confusion. why is that you feel a little more real when he says your name?

“what?” you squeak out.

“you’re so beautiful.” he thinks out loud, ‘lovestruck’ written all over his softened features. “i wish there’s a better word for it. ehh, uhh, there probably is but…”

his forehead creases as he exerts mental power to flip through his dictionary, eyeballs pointing in different directions as if he will read the word somewhere on the walls.

“but i can’t think of one right now… my brain isn’t working.”

the compliment told dreamily makes your fragile heart beat louder inside your ribcage. concealing a flattered smile, you shake your head in disbelief.

“you think changing the topic like this will work?”

the water sloshes around as you inch closer, running the cloth over his shoulders and across his collarbones.

“i mean it.” he replies firmly, hands sneaking in to caress the sides of your waist, fingertips grazing your skin to trace amorphous drawings. “i didn’t always get the chance to look at you… like take my time and, really look at you. i hate that.”

you reach for the tallest bottle on the corner of the bathtub. as you spritz more body wash on the cloth, you give him a fleeting glance. “you’re doing it right now. that’s what matters.”

“i am.” he nods timidly.

his vision is fixated where your gentle scrubbing travels down to his chest. he sharply inhales, and exhales, choosing to pour every ounce of his attention on you. his tattooed hand slides up your body, gliding across your skin until he reaches your face. and as if he’s doubtful that you’re truly tangible and not a figment of his imagination, the back of his fingers tentatively brushes your cheek.

it rises under his touch as you sneakily steal glances of him getting lost in a trance. with droplets of water dripping from his wet hair, he blinks sleepily. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the lump in his throat, suppressing the new wave of salty tears threatening to leak from his eyes.

he doesn’t want to roam the roads of the past too much but — years after he broke your heart, has he become a man worthy of soaking in a bathtub with you? it’s an honor. it’s a joy. everything is clear. you’re not here to fill in a gap but to consume space. his body is permanently stained by the colors of your soul. he is loved.

considering that he still looks gorgeously wrecked from earlier, you only take it as a sign that he’s still not entirely present in this sphere. you want to give him more water, but neither of you feels the need to speak. wave to earth’s ‘evening glow’ is more than enough to fill the evening’s restful silence.

as he painfully yearns to do so, he takes his time, and you spread the body wash on the curves of his waist slower than you normally would.

his calloused thumb traces your jaw, and your breath hitches when he pauses at your bottom lip. he applies just enough pressure to memorize the softness of the flesh under his touch, slightly separating it from your upper lip. he fails to take notice of his own lips unconsciously mirroring yours. and he swears on his life, all the clocks in the world have stopped ticking to let him live in this moment forever.

on the other hand, you also fail to shut out your own impulses. your lips pucker to kiss the pad of his thumb with a smooching sound. he breaks out into a toothy grin, the long dimples running down his lower cheeks popping out.

he delicately holds your face steady in one hand, pointer finger digging in one cheek and his thumb on the other, before he draws in to grant you a proper kiss. his nose bumps against yours when it breaks.

“need to sit on your lap so i can reach your back.”

“i’m all yours.” he whispers while he guides you into position, softly squeezing at your hips.

with you straddling him, he can embrace you as he likes, his chest pressed against yours. he happily tucks his chin over the shoulder of your unbusy arm, and he’s on top of the world. he hums and sings along to johnny stimson’s ‘honeymoon’, harmoniously swaying in the limited space as you knead his back. he is undoubtedly, thoroughly drunk. the 80- to 90-proof bottles of whiskey gathered in the kitchen cabinet got nothing on you.

he sniffles quietly, using his wrist to pat his tear-stained eyes and cheeks dry. he plants a small kiss on the soft flesh under your ear before succumbing to the heaviness weighing on his eyelids.

jungkook’s adorable snoring contests with his phone’s high-quality speakers. almost, almost too identical to the sound of the candle wick burning.

“oh, for fuck’s sake.” you curse under your breath, splashing water on the expanse of your boyfriend’s back to wash away the bubbles.

“…it’s 9pm. did i seriously tire him out that much?”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You think you remember. Or at least you’ve convinced yourself that you do.

You go through the painstaking steps as the dark presence looms across the counter. The man walks along, just on the other side of the machines as you steam the milk. Toffee nut, yes, you’re pretty sure that was it.

You put it all together, step by step, hands shaking. Your lips move as you talk yourself through your work silently. You can do this. You still feel how the man scratched you through your shirt when he grabbed you, your skin fiery.

You give one last look to the foam and send a prayer up to whatever deity will hear it. You slowly move to the till and place the cup down. You wet your lips and clear your throat.

“Almond, toffee nut, half blond, half regular, cinnamon on top,” you declare, voice quavering as you stare at the bristle across the man’s upper lip. “Mr. Hansen.”

He clucks and leans on the counter, hooking one foot behind the other. He wraps his hand around the cup and slides it closer to himself. He stares down into as you fidget. You glance around at the baked goods.

“And a cinnamon bun?” You suggest but before you can carry through on the offer, a splash of liquid washes over you, hot despite the layer of steamed milk.

“Oat milk,” he crushes the empty cup in his large hand and throws it at your face. You sputter and blink as the foam drips down your cheeks.

“Sorry, sir, I’ll make it again.”

“Fucking right, you will, sweet lips,” he growls and stands straight, crossing his arms.

You pull the bottom of your apron up and wipe your face. You bend to pick up the empty cup and turn away. Your eyes sting and you wiggle your tingling nose. It’s fine. You can do this.

Oat, half blond, half regular, toffee nut, cinnamon on top. The smell of espresso and syrup clings to you as you make the death march back to the till. You set the cup down without a word.

Mr. Hansen, Lloyd, the boss, whatever he is, considers you as he lifts the drink and examines the careful leafy art in the foam. He turns it and inhales the scent, some of the foam catching in his mustache. He takes a breath as if about to dive into water and has a taste. The tip of his tongue pokes out as he pulls the cup away from his mouth. He hums. Does he like it?

Splash.

Another searing dousing and you stand there with a gasp, shaking off the dredge of his displeasure.

“Mr. Hansen, I--”

“First thing’s first. Shut the fuck up. You talk too much,” he tosses the cup. Bonk, right off your forehead. “Second, I changed my mind. Get me a mocha. Extra whip.”

You nod and keep your head down. You pick up the cup and stand, nearly slipping in the puddle around your feet. You dispose of the empty cup and go to the coffee machine. You begin your new task, hands clumsy and trembling. You add the whipped cream and return to the till. You put the cup down and grab onto the counter to keep from sliding through the liquid at your soles.

He lifts it and you wince, bracing for another deluge. He repeats the same deliberate examination. You swallow tightly as he samples your work. This time he doesn’t make a noise. As he lowers the cup, you flinch and take a step back.

He cackles, “relax, cupcake.”

You stare at him grimly. You flick your lashes and blow out your nerves. You hide your shaking hands behind you.

“Now you know who the fuck I am,” he says, “clean yourself up and get back to work.”

He grabs a package of the cookies along the small shelf beside the till then turns on his heel and struts to the door. You watch after him, damp and dripping. As the door opens and closes, you turn to face the mess. You sigh and go to grab the mop; you can clean the floor but you can’t do much for yourself.

You work at soaking up the excess then spray cleaner on the floor and wipe with paper towel to prevent it from getting sticky. As you work at sopping up the errant droplets from the counter, the door behind you swings open. You glance over your shoulder as Bre sweeps through.

“Alright, your turn--” She stops short as you face her. “What happened?” Her face slackens with dread and shock, “what did you do?”

“It was Mr. Jansen—Hansen,” you correct yourself, “he came by and--”

“I told you not to talk to him,” she hisses.

“I... I didn’t have a choice. He wanted a drink and--”

“Fuck. Fuck! What did he say? What did he do?” She snaps.

You recoil at her accusatory tone, “he... he threw coffee in my face? He took some cookies? I don’t know? He just... said now I know who he is. I didn’t really understand--”

“You don’t. You don’t understand. You don’t get it.”

You frown and cross your arms, “I’m sorry, Bre, I did my best--”

“Not good enough. You think it’s all fun and games. It’s not. That man is dangerous. Not just here, everywhere,” she shakes her head, “you’ll see. Out there, on your own. Give me your apron.”

“What?” You murmur.

“Get out. I’ll call Maurice and let him know it didn’t work out.”

“What? No, you can’t--”

“I am. Give me your apron. Now.”

You pout and sniffle. You reach back behind you and unlace the apron and lift it over your head. You hold it out to her, “it’s wet--”

“Just go.”

You hang your head and turn away. Your eyes begin to stream before you even get through the door. You grab your stuff from the backroom and give one last look around. You got fired. What are you going to do?

You fold your jacket over your arm and sling your bag from your shoulder. You let yourself out into the alley and head down to the street. You stop at the end and cover your face, sniveling behind your hands as you lean on the brick. You don’t want to go back home. You only just got there.

“Whatsa matter, sweet lips?” The low drawl is followed by a loud slurp, “bad day?”

[alizalayne]

Hello! this will be a quick process post so that you can see how I needlefelted a fursuit head!

I began by following the "bucket head" tutorial by Matrices, then added a layer of polyfill so that I wouldn't use as much of my merino wool. This is how I typically make a doll head, my "core wool" is often polyfill because it really likes to clump together and fuse.

Overall, this project took about two months of my spare time. This is the first fursuit head I have made, but not my first needlefelt project.

I would really like to encourage other people to try making masks this way! You can do any kind of subtle color with wool and the wool fiber is very cheap. If you wanted to make a fursuit head with the entirety of starry night flowing over it, or a head with tons and tons of complex colors, I think wool might be the best material. I also did not need to know how to pattern or sew in order to make this-- it was sculpture rather than sewing, which I am bad at.

The rest under the cut!

Another angle where you can see that I am building up the structure of the head.

I then made the ears, which are translucent because they're felted, just like real ears!

I wasn't happy yet with the proportions at this point, so I spent a lot of time figuring that out and deciding where and how I'd be placing the eyes.

I made a pair of sculpey follow-me eyes by using a little soy sauce dish as a concave circular mold and tried a foam clay nose and teeth. The sculpey eyes could be more successful, they took a lot of shaving and adjusting to get right and they eventually cracked from the strain I'd put them through while making them more shallow. For a while, I intended to make wefts of white wool to use on the sides of the head, but I ended up preferring a domestic shorthair head shape because it reads the most clearly as a cat vs any other animal.

I originally intended to have the eyes behind clear plastic domes and used "shaker domes" that people use to make greeting cards to cover the eye, but in the end they made the eyes too dull. I made foam clay housing for the eyes and painted it pink with acrylic paint. I used stick-on car window tint to create the pupils. My visibility inside the head is really good!

Finally, after fiddling, one of the eyes was deeper than the other and I had to re-set both to account for it. I added spot glitter on top of the acrylic paint on the eye using some gold watercolor paint I had, which was silly because I'll need to wash the head at some point. I will probably seal the eyes before washing and hope for the best. I intend to spot clean the head until it absolutely needs to be washed, at which point I'll remove some pieces or find a way to protect them while soaking the head in a cool dr. bronner's bath.

I glued down a layer of felt fiber on top of the foam clay "tear ducts" and then felted new fiber over the tear duct skin and cheeks to blend them into the face. I also removed the teeth and closed her mouth because I didn't have time to adjust the teeth as much as I wanted before the con that my friends and I attended. I would like to modify this head so that she can open and close her mouth.

Lastly, I added wire whiskers with little glass beads looped onto the ends and paper eyelashes that I also watercolored and sealed, like the insides of the eyes. Like I said before, it's gonna be a problematic wash, but I'm confident I'll figure it out, and I can always repair her or replace her lashes if something goes wrong.

Last thing, to keep the inside of the head nice and cool and prevent fogging since in the end I closed the mouth and had sealed eyes, I made a snorkel out of a snorkel mouthpiece fitted into two collapsible auto funnels.

I would say that realistically this entire project cost me less than $150. I had some materials lying around, like the wire and the beads and the sculpey.

I added two ear vents on either side of the head so that I had options on where to feed the snorkel out. If you look at the other pictures on the blog of me wearing the head, you mostly can't even see the snorkel mouth. However, it was a little problematic to let go of the snorkel to talk. it would be perfect for a silent suiter, but I'm lucky that so many people wanted to talk to me. I'd like to try and replace the snorkel mouth with something I can talk in, but I'm not sure what to use. It should be something that can create a seal to keep my breath out of the head. it's possible that I will be able to make something with a painter's mask.

I hid the "seam" between the head and my body with two yards of tulle tied into a big bow and sewn down onto the neck so that it wouldn't move around.

I hope that if you try making something similar you'll show it to me!

[sucka4pain]

𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝐴𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝐼𝑁𝐸~!♡︎

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒!𝑇𝑜𝑘𝑦𝑜 𝑅𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

Previous chapter, Chapter 2

wc: 3.9k

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠/𝑇𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠: 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑎𝑛𝑥𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑦, 𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑘, 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒, 𝐹𝑢𝑗𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑘𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑤𝑘𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠.

𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒈𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒅! 𝑩𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒌!!

The bright sunlight beamed through the white curtains and gazed over Y/n’s sleeping figure. The light hit her in the face making her groan and stuff her face in her pillow.

Her alarm on her phone went off, the loud noise blaring in her ears making her grumble and slam her hand on her phone to turn it off.

‘Why does it have to be so early?..’

She thought before sitting up and rubbing the sleep away from her eyes. Her vision was blurry for a few moments until the room in front of her now became clear.

Her legs shifting out of the warm soft blankets and her feet placing down on the fluffy white carpet. She stretched her body, her arms slightly shaking from the well done stretch and standing up. Her body moved along to the bathroom, stripping off her clothes and getting inside the shower.

The perfect room temperature water gliding down her skin making her sigh in relaxation. She reaches over for her shampoo, squirting some of the white liquid in the palm of her hand and rubbing it in her scalp while bringing some of the product down to the rest of her hair.

Her hands massaging the shampoo into her scalp and hair follicles, making sure it is hydrated and clean. She then takes her luffa, applying some body wash on it as she watched it foam up under the water. Her hands gripped the soft luffa and scrubbed it all around her body, making sure to not miss a single spot on her skin.

The body wash dripping down her body as she started to rinse off the shampoo from her hair. After a relaxation time in the shower, she gently stepped out the shower and dried her body off with the towel that was hung up.

A towel wrapped around her hair to get it dry and the towel wrapped around her body getting every little droplet of water. She takes the towel off of her head after her hair dried up for a bit and starts to do her hair care, making sure that her hair is fully healthy and hydrated.

It took a while but it was a good thing she woke up early since she knew how long it usually took to do her hair. Once her hair was done and finished to her likings, she brushed her teeth, put on some deodorant then walked out the bathroom and went into her bedroom. Making her way to her closet and taking out her school uniform.

‘Today is the first day….I really hope I don’t end up having a panic attack…’

She thought before putting on her undergarments and then her uniform on top.

“The top is a little tight…”

The mumble leaving her lips as she noticed her uniform top was a bit tight but not too tight. She shrugged and put on her socks then grabbing her phone, chapstick, bag, and the key for her apartment door.

She left her bedroom and went to the front door, putting on her shoes and leaving, of course locking the door behind her. She then made her way to the elevator, pressing the button to the main floor.

The ding echoed through the walls of the elevator as the doors opened and she stepped out.

Fujisiko looked up and smiled softly at Y/n’s walking figure to the front door.

“Good morning Y/n!” His voice beamed making Y/n slightly smile.

“Good morning to you too, Fujisiko.” She replied.

Her handed her a bento box that had a black cloth tied on it and white cartoon cat doodles all over it making her slightly smile at it.

“I had a lot left over so I thought I’d give you some!” He said.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to.” She replied.

He waved it off. “Don’t worry, it was the least I could do.”

She paused for a moment before looking up at him again.

“If you don’t mind, can you accompany me to school? I know it sounds childish but-“

He immediately cuts her off. “No no! It’s fine I’ll be glad to accompany you! Plus, it’ll feel like taking my daughter to her first day of school.”

He said with a soft slightly sad tone before standing up and going by her. she raised a brow at his words.

“You have a daughter?” She asked as they started to walk towards the entrance.

He looked down a bit before opening the door, letting her go out first and him behind her.

“I do but…I can’t see her anymore.” His tone was shifted to a different direction, almost a sad tone.

Y/n hummed and curiosity got the best of her.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

She felt the atmosphere of the air between them go tense when she asked him.

A small bead of sweat dripped down the side of his cheek as they began walking.

“Well…it was years ago when I was in my early twenties. Me and my girlfriend at the time, we had intercourse. I used protection just in case but, I suspected something. She didn’t take her birth control and she ended up pregnant because she apparently poked holes in the condom.”

Y/n could tell by his body language that he wasn’t comfortable with speaking of the subject from his past. She placed her hand on his bicep which caused him to slightly flinch and look down at her.

“Hey, you don’t have to continue. I won’t force you to. I can tell by your body language that you aren’t comfortable with the topic.” She softly spoke reassuring him.

He felt his eyes slightly water but her quickly wiped away the tears before they could spill.

“Do you think that I’m a good father? Or could be?” The crack in his voice from the overwhelming emotions build up in his throat.

“Of course. You seem like to be an amazing father. A father anyone could ask for, hell…a father even I could ask for.” She said.

He looked at her with slight widen eyes before shifting to a soft expression.

“You’re just like her…” He mumbled making her look at him confused before soon realizing what he meant.

In his eyes, she reminded him of his daughter.

“Well then…is it alright if I call you dad?” The word rolling off her tongue was something he never thought he would hear ever again.

Fujisiko’s bottom lip quivered as he nodded eagerly.

“Yes! Yes you can. I’ll make sure to the best father for you.” He spoke and crossed his heart.

They had made it to the school and he looked at Y/n one more time before patting her head, slightly ruffling up her hair.

“Hey! I spent all morning taking care of my hair dipshit!” She huffed and shook his hand off of her head making him chuckle.

“Sorry sorry! Have a good day at school, sweetie.” He said with a bright smile and turned his back but glanced at her one more time.

“I’ll pick you up, let me know when you’re done.” His last words rang in her ears before he started to walk away.

She nods and looked at the building in front of her. She glanced over and noticed many motorcycles in the school parking lot and saw the flags that were flying in the wind underneath the motors.

Her breath hitched and her grip on the strap of her bag tightened.

‘Baham?…Black Dragons?…Toman?…Tejiku?…Vahallah?…those gangs go here?!’

A panic thought went through her mind, making her breathing her slightly heavy. Suddenly, a female with short pinkish hair and another with medium length blonde hair walked up to her.

“Hi there! Are you new?” The short haired pinkette asked. She was pretty, a sweet smile and a beauty mark by her bottom lip. The blonde had a small pout on her lips and her hands on her hips as she had a pink and white checkered cardigan tied around her waist.

“I’ve never seen you here before, this your first day?” The blonde asked tilting her head.

Y/n felt her social anxiety rising and she started to panic. Her throat went dry and she immediately ran past them without giving them an answer.

“Hey, wait!” The pink haired girl said wanting to stop Y/n but she had already ran.

“Man…that was kinda rude.” The blonde said.

“Maybe she just got nervous? She was shaking a bit.” She replied.

Y/n kept running until she found the girls restroom and went inside. She got into a stall and pressed her back against the cold tile wall, sliding down to the floor as her hands trembled in her hair.

“Stay calm…stay calm…” She mumbled to herself as her heart raced.

‘They were just being nice, why did I have to fucking ruin it?…stupid social anxiety..’

She thought to herself before reaching in her bag, grabbing her water bottle and drinking some while taking her anxiety medication.

After a few minutes, she managed to get her breathing back to normal. She stood up and got out the stall, heading towards a sink and washing her face.

“You got this..it’s fine,” she mumbled to herself before drying her face and grabbing her bag, making her way out of the restroom. She felt everyone staring at her, making her grip tighten on the strap of her bag.

She looked down at her schedule and saw that her first period was algebra II. She looked up and down until she found the room.

‘Deep breath…’

She thought before inhaling deeply and opening the door of the classroom. Many eyes were sent on her making her scream internally.

“Oh! You must be the new student!” The teacher spoke making her nod.

“Go ahead and sit there on the right side in the back behind Shinichiro.” The teacher pointed to a short black haired boy who had an empty seat behind him.

Y/n nods and made her way to the seat, she could practically feel their eyes burning holes into her. Once seated, she kept her head down to avoid eye contact with anyone.

He looked behind him and smiled.

“Hey! My name is Sano Shinichiro, what’s yours?” He introduced.

She looked at him and then remembered that Fujisiko said to pretend to be his daughter. It shouldn’t be that hard, right?

“Kowada Y/n.” She replied quietly but loud enough for him to hear.

“Kowada?! As in the daughter of Kowada Fujisiko?!” He exclaimed with sparkles in his eyes.

“Shinichiro, lower your tone.” The teacher called out sternly making his face red up from embarrassment and his friends laughing at him.

“Chill out Shin..you’re gonna scare the poor girl.” A tall muscular man that had white buzz up like hairstyle spoke. Another man with purple and yellow mixed hair was sucking on a lollipop and just lazily grinned. Another with slicked back hair and a scar going down his left eye chuckled.

Y/n felt her anxiety rising again as she recognized them as the gang, Black Dragons.

‘Just my luck…I have to sit behind the Black Dragons, let alone the damn founders…’

She sighed mentally before hearing the teacher start the lesson and she took out her notebook to take notes.

As her day went on, the first five classes passed by like a fly. They went by so quickly that it was already lunch time. She started to walk in the crowd of students who were heading to the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was enormous, it had many tables mostly full. Her anxiety slightly coming up but she managed to keep her composure. She walked over to a vending machine and bought a drink. Her legs then brought her to an empty table that sat in a far corner, away from everyone else.

It felt like an introverts dream, being alone in a table with no one else. Her fingers untied the cloth on her bento box and opened it up. A small sparkle in her eyes as she looked down at the beautifully variations of protein and grains.

She clasped her hands together, uttering ‘Itadakimasu’ before digging into her bento.

‘This is really good…feels like I’m eating heaven..’

She thought as she savored the flavors and textures of the food. The peace she had alone was cut short when the two girls from the morning walked up to her but they had three more girls with them.

“Hey!” The blonde said with an angry pout and furrowed brows.

Her shoulders tensed up and she looked up at the girls with her leg bouncing which was normal for her anxiety.

“Why did you run away from me and Hina when we talked to you in the morning?” She asked squinting her eyes down at Y/n

“Emma-Chan please…” Hina said with her hands up In defense.

“Uhm…sorry, my social anxiety got to me. I’m not used to talking to people.” Y/n said with her head down but it was loud enough for them to hear.

Emma blinked blankly at her.

“Oh.” She said.

“Hey, how come you’re the only female wearing the boys uniform pants? You’re supposed to be wearing a skirt.” A white haired girl pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s true.” A girl with orange-ish hair spoke and crossing her arms.

“The principal said it was okay for me to wear it. I don’t feel comfortable in skirts after an incident in my past.” Y/n explained.

The girls looked at her with softened eyes and nodded their heads.

“My name is Akashi Senju by the way!” Senju introduced.

“I’m Sano Emma.” Emma spoke up.

“Shiba Yuzuha, pleasure to meet you.” A small smile on Yuzuha’s lips.

“Seishu Akane.” Her yellow lashes batted with her sparkling eyes.

“Tachibana Hinata, but you call me Hina!” She laughed.

Y/n looked at the girls and introduced herself as well.

“Hey, why don’t you come sit with us?” Hina offered since she noticed Y/n was sitting alone.

“O-oh, are you sure?” Y/n asked with her face slightly red since she wasn’t used to people being this nice to her.

“Yeah! Come on!” Senju exclaimed and started to pull on her arm.

“Quit pulling on the poor girl’s arm, Senju!” Yuzuha scolded before pulling her away from Y/n.

Y/n stood up, grabbing her things and walking with the girls to another table.

“Emma! Where’s the dorayaki you promised me?!” A blonde haired boy whines to Emma making the girl roll her eyes at his attitude and toss him a brown bag which he immediately dug into it.

“Hey, who’s that?” A lilac haired boy pointed out as he looked at Y/n.

“This is Y/n! She’s new!” Hina spoke making the whole table look at her.

‘Ughh..I hate stares…’

Y/n thought as she thickly gulped when she noticed their black jackets with gold writing.

‘First, I have to sit behind the first founders of the Black Dragons in class and now I’m here about to sit by Tokyo Manji gang known as Toman?..what the fuck!’

She groaned mentally before the girls pulled her to sit between them causing Y/n to yelp.

“So Y/n, what made you come to this school?” The lilac haired boy from before asked. He had a sweet welcoming smile on his lips making her feel relaxed just for a little.

“Well, it’s really the only one that’s close by to where I live at.” She spoke after finally managing to get the words out of her dry throat.

“That’s cool. My names Mitsuya Takashi.” He introduced.

“Kowada Y/n.” She replied.

“Kowada?!” A short blonde haired boy exclaimed making Y/n flinch at his sudden outburst.

“Takemichi hush! You scared her!” Hina scolded.

“It’s fine, it just caught me off guard.” Y/n defended.

Eventually, everyone introduced themselves which Y/n made mental notes on their appearance so that she doesn’t forget their names or what they look like.

The boys went back to doing what they were doing before. Some of them just chilling and calmly talking to each other while others were fighting over food.

“So Y/n, what do you like to do? Any hobbies?” Akane asked curiously.

“I like to draw and write. I might not be the best at drawing but I’m trying. I mostly write short stories and poems.” Y/n said, for some odd reason she didn’t know why but she felt comfortable already with the girls.

Almost as if she knew them her entire life!

“Poems? I heard that it’s also a way to vent when you don’t have someone to talk to.” Yuzuha mentions.

“Yeah, I actually turn my problems into poems and short stories.” Y/n said.

The girls turned their head towards her.

“Really?” Emma tilted her head.

“That sounds fun! Wait no- not as in fun of your trauma but-!” Hina stumbled on her words making the rest laugh.

“Don’t sweat it, I know what you mean.” Y/n waved off.

“Ken-chin…” Mikey whispered to the taller blonde making him hum.

“I don’t know why, but I feel my stomach tingling.” He said in a hushed tone.

Draken raised a brow at him and glanced over at the girls.

“Why is that?” His deep voice spoke.

“It’s only when I look at Y/n. My stomach gets this weird feeling.” Looking over at Y/n as he talked.

“So you feel it too?” Mitsuya said joining in on their conversation.

“I only get those type of feelings when I look at Emma and Emma only.” Draken said making Mikey playfully push him.

“Cmon’ Ken-chin! It doesn’t hurt to crush on two people.” He teased making Draken shove him.

“I haven’t even known that girl no longer than twenty minutes, I don’t get attached that quick unlike someone.” He huffed and aimed his last sentence to Mikey, making it obvious that it’s aimed.

“Let’s maybe not argue and try to be civilized for once?” Mitsuya said pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Taka-Chan…” Hakkai gulped nervously.

“Yes?” He replied.

“I think you spoke too soon.” The buzz cut boy said pointing to a scene where Baji jumped over the lunch table attacking Chifuyu after he took the last bit of chocolate mushroom shaped biscuits.

Watching the scene unfold made Mitsuya face palm and stand up to go separate the chaos.

“Is that normal?…” Y/n asked seeing Baji on top of Chifuyu as he was holding a box with chocolate mushroom shaped biscuits.

“They’re like cats I swear. If their past life was them as cats I wouldn’t be surprised.” Emma shrugged making the girls giggle.

“Hey! Y/n-Chan!” A voice yelled out making Y/n and some other attention from other tables look over.

It was Shinichiro who had his friends behind him.

They had caught up to the table as the black haired male flashed a smile.

“I have a favor to ask if you don’t mind.” He panted a little out of breath.

Y/n raised a brow at what his favor was.

“So I didn’t quite get the lesson for first period and I saw how good you are at solving the equations! You made it seem easy and I was wondering if you could help me out a bit?”

He asked rubbing the back of his neck nervously with red cheeks and a shaky smile.

‘Me? Seriously? My introverted ass? Dear anyone above please help me…’

She mentally sighed before nodding.

“Sure…” She mumbled.

“Great!” He said and sitting in front in front of her with his friends sitting with them.

“Hey! Hey! You guys know that this is the Tomans table, go to your original table Black Dragons!” Nahoya spoke with a vein slightly popping out of his cheek but he still had a smile on his face.

“Shut it Ice Spice.” The purple and yellow mixed hair boy said making some of the boys laugh.

“Me personally…” Yuzuha mumbled with her jaw slightly dropped.

“The disrespect..” Senju gasped.

“I wouldn’t take that to be honest, but that’s just me.” Emma replied.

“The hell you say?!” Souya said defending his older twin brother.

“Great, here comes Cold flavored water.” The male said while swirling the lollipop in his mouth.

“What?!” Baji said before holding his stomach from laughing.

“It’s not funny, it’s not funny.” Mitsuya said bitting the inside of his cheek to restrain himself from bursting into a laughing fit.

“Alright, that’s way beyond disrespectful.” Y/n said with a flabbergasted expression.

“Sorry about them.” Shinichiro apologized and elbowed the droopy eyed male.

“By the way, I’m Imaushi Wakasa.” He introduced.

“Akashi Takeomi.” The slicked back haired male spoke up with a grin.

“You can just call me Benkei.” The short almost buzzed white haired male said.

“Nice to meet you three, I’m sure you already know my name by now.” Y/n said.

They all nod.

“Okay so, am I still gonna help you with the lesson or?” She asked making Shinichiro to frantically gather his things and stand up.

“R-right! Let’s go?” He spoke as she nodded and gathered her things.

She then stood up, bidding a goodbye to everyone at the Toman table and walked away with Shinichiro to another table that wasn’t too far and was empty.

“Hey, who’s that over there?” A male with two braids spoke and pointing his baton towards the two.

“I’m assuming that’s a new student?” A male with a buzz cut and heterochromia spoke up.

“But Shinichiro isn’t a new student.” A blonde with a half shaved head while licking his brass knuckle.

A male with tan skin, short white hair and violet eyes spoke.

“Of course he isn’t a new student, we’re talking about the girl that’s sitting with him you dumb fuck.” His voice spoke with his long red earrings dangling along his ears.

Now the attention was shifted over to Shinichiro and Y/n who sat alone together. Y/n was helping Shinichiro with the lesson, getting just a little bit frustrated.

“How did you mess that up? It’s one of the simplest formulas in this lesson.” She huffed in frustration.

“It’s not my fault! I can’t remember all of these formulas. It’s too much.” He complained making Y/n pinch the bride of her nose.

“You asked me to help you because once you’re done with high school, you said that you wanna open up a motor shop. In order to get into that type of business, you need to know these!” She groaned making him frantically find a reason.

“Damn, looks like he’s giving her a real hard ass time.” Wakasa chuckled.

“Watch her probably switch schools. I bet $30.” Takeomi betted.

“You guys are seriously betting?” Draken spoke up.

“Hey, it’s only them. I’m not part of this.” Benkei blankly defended.

“I hope he’s not making her uncomfortable by how close he’s sitting with her.” Emma said as she realized how close Shinichiro was sitting next to her.

“Awwe~ Emma-Chan being protective.” Hina coos with a sweet smile.

“Can you blame me? You girls would feel the same too, especially since she’s new!” She exclaimed.

“True.” Yuzuha nodded in agreement along with the others.

Y/n could feel the tension coming from everyone around her. After Shinichiro finally got the concept, she stretched her arms out and turned her head and made eye contact with a tan blonde haired male that had glasses.

She didn’t want to seem rude so she sent him a quick smile before standing up and going back to the table she at with the girls.

“Kisaki is blushing~!” A black haired man with a blonde on front teased, pointing his finger at him.

“Shut up Hanma…” Kisaki grumbled and adjusted his glasses to try and hide his blush.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @reiners-milkbiddies, @0fftherec0rd, @simpingfor-wakasa, @melou008

(Let me know in the comments if you wanna be added to the tag list!)

[theambitiouswoman]

do you have any tips on hormonal pimples? or like teen pimples (idk what they r called) because i have so much of them but none of these toners and serums are helping.

Make sure to wash your face twice daily with a gentle cleanser. Avoid scrubbing your skin too hard, this can make acne worse.

Look for products that are labeled as "non-comedogenic," which means they won't clog your pores. This is especially important for makeup and moisturizers.

Products containing benzoyl peroxide or salicylic acid may be helpful in treating acne. Start with a lower strength and gradually increase if needed.

Prescription strength retinoids can be very effective in treating acne, but they can be irritating to the skin. Talk to your doctor and start with a lower strength and use as directed.

Here are some product recommendations:

Cleansers:

CeraVe Foaming Facial Cleanser

Neutrogena Oil-Free Acne Wash

Moisturizers:

Cetaphil Oil Control Moisturizer SPF 30

La Roche-Posay Effaclar Mat Mattifying Moisturizer

Salicylic Acid Products:

The Ordinary Salicylic Acid 2% Solution

Clean & Clear Advantage Acne Spot Treatment

Benzoyl Peroxide Products:

Neutrogena Rapid Clear Stubborn Acne Spot Gel

Acne.org 2.5% Benzoyl Peroxide Treatment

Non-Comedogenic Sunscreen:

Neutrogena Clear Face Liquid Lotion Sunscreen SPF 30

EltaMD UV Clear Broad-Spectrum SPF 46

Spot Treatments:

Mario Badescu Drying Lotion

Kate Somerville EradiKate Acne Treatment

The food you eat is super important for how your body's hormones work. Hormones are messengers that your body makes to control your growth, metabolism etc. They travel through your blood and tell different parts of your body what to do. Eating a good mix of healthy foods helps keep these hormones in check. Things like protein, good fats, fiber, vitamins, and minerals help make and control hormones. For example protein is needed for hormones like insulin and growth hormone, while healthy fats help with hormones like estrogen and testosterone.

Also, when you're stressed a lot, your body makes more of a hormone called cortisol, which can mess up other hormones. Moving your body through exercise can help with hormones by reducing stress and making you feel happy. Also, sleep is really important. Not getting enough sleep can mess up hormones that control hunger and fullness.

So, eating healthy foods, managing stress, staying active, and getting enough sleep are all really important. They help keep your hormones in balance and make sure your body works well.

Most importantly, don't let acne affect your self-esteem. You are beautiful just the way you are! Pimples are very normal and they do not take away from how amazing you are <3

[kny-agere]

Hiiii <3

Sooo, I have this headcanon of Giyuu loving bubble baths, especially when he's little, so it'll be so cool if you wrote a fic/drabble about him getting one! Idk who could be his cg tho, but I was thinking about Shinobu or Kyojuro

Wrote Kyojuro bc I haven’t in awhile :p

★彡☆彡★彡

“See how big the bubbles are getting?” Kyojuro bounced Giyuu on his lap. It was getting hard to keep the boy still. He kept leaning forward to dip his hands into the warm bath water. “It’s almost ready, just another minute or two!” He wrapped his arms even tighter around Giyuu as he continued to squirm.

Both men had already stripped down and Kyojuro was tempted to dip into the heat as well, but he thought patience was a good exercise. However the moment the bath was filled fully he wasted no time leaping in.

The water was heated to perfection and on top was a thick layer of bubbles.

As soon as Tomioka was set down he moved away from Rengoku. Instead he slowly sunk into the water until he sat with his nose barely above the surface. For a few minuets he relaxed, letting his eyes drift shut.

“Be careful,” Rengoku spoke as softly as possible, which was still quite loud. “You’re drifting.” He gently tugged the boy closer until he was back on his lap. The bath was quite large, big enough to fit the two with plenty of room to spare. “Or did you want to sit by yourself?”

He received a little grunt alongside some curious hands that pulled on his hair. That was enough of an answer.

“Let’s wash your hair then!” Kyojuro couldn’t hold back his excitement and returned to full volume.

Tomioka nodded and closed his eyes as Rengoku poured water over his head. While the younger man focused on lathering up Giyuu’s hair and combing through it, the other was slowly building a tower of bubbles in front of himself. He couldn’t make much progress as the bubbles shifted with the water but Tomioka seemed entertained regardless.

Kyojuro worked quickly on his own. The man adored how soft Giyuu’s hair would get after a fresh wash. After it had been thoroughly lathered up Kyojuro took a moment to relax and play as well. He gathered up a large amount of bubbles in his hands and built a crown upon Giyuu’s head. The boy looked up and gently patted the mound of foam. He had a rare smile on his face.

“Should we rinse it out now? We need to clean your body too!” Rengoku was sure Tomioka wouldn’t want to get rid of his bubble crown but surprisingly he sunk down into the water.

He quickly rinsed out all the soap until the black locks were smooth and shiny. There was almost a blue tint with how the light reflected off of it.

Getting the rest of Tomioka clean was a slightly more difficult task. The boy was surprisingly ticklish, but would hide (even cry on rare occasions) if he was poked and prodded. Kyojuro had to move very slowly and couldn’t scrub too hard in some places. He hoped to distract Giyuu with the bubbles once more, and even added some toys that could float over the water. It was sucessful as Tomioka went back to work building a castle of sorts. He’s surrounded one of the rubber toys— a smiling monkey —completely with bubbles before fishing it back out.

Once Giyuu is completely clean Kyojuro is happy to work on himself. His own process is much quicker. Rengoku washes his hair while piles of bubbles are spooned onto his shoulders. Truthfully Tomioka doesn’t offer much help but the company is comforting.

By the time Rengoku is done the bathwater has become lukewarm. The man happily hops out to be engulfed by a warm towel instead. When it comes to Giyuu however he has to be coaxed out. The bubbles have turned into pools of thin foam but he continues to moved them around.

Eventually his teeth start to chatter and a warm bottle sounds better than cold and clear water. The boy is enthusiastically greeted by a towel that borders on being a blanket. Once he’s properly swaddled, Kyojuro shows off his strength by easily carrying Giyuu back to the bedroom.

[tokioangelic]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Your Favourite Gustav Schafer x Reader

(cute little fluff about our underrated bbg Gustav, reposted from my Wattpad <33 also Ik my posts have such a BORING layout but I'll come up with one soon enough. kisses kisses xoxo)

You stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your cleansed body. You tiptoed over to the Bathroom counter, giggling to yourself as you drew hearts on the fogged up Mirror. You slipped out of the Bathroom and into Gustav's Bedroom, pulling out your clean clothes out of your Bag. You were spending the Weekend at Gustav's house to spend some time together before the two of you went on a well deserved Holiday during Gustav's Break away from Fame and work for the next few months. 

You got dressed and ready to go downstairs, stealing a Hoodie from Gustav's Closet and pulling it on over your comfy clothes. The two of you were going to have a cozy evening at home, maybe watch some movies and cuddle on the Sofa. You skipped down the stairs, a jaw-droppingly delicious smell in the air. Gustav was obviously cooking something amazing, and just by the smell of it you could tell it was absolutely mouthwatering. You felt your stomach rumble, already starving. You hurried down the stairs, joining your boyfriend in the kitchen. 

He was leaning against a Kitchen counter, flipping through a book. His face lit up when he saw you, putting down the book and outstretching his arms to you. Without Hesitation, you ran into his arms. He hugged you close, his hands stroking the top of your head. "How was your shower Liebchen?" he asked. You replied, your words muffled as your face was against his chest. "It was amazing" 

Gustav laughed, kissing the top of your head as you pulled away, still holding onto his hand. "There's a Lasagna in the oven, your favourite" he smiled, gesturing to the oven a few feet away from you. The Whole kitchen smelled of the Mouth Watering Lasagna. (You can imagine it being whatever food you want but I said Lasagna cuz it's my favourite) You grinned happily, leaning up to kiss your Sweet Boyfriend. He was always so caring and thoughtful, learning and making your favourite meals for you. 

*ೃ༄

You groaned, leaning back in your chair as you clutched your stomach. "I'm so full! God, that Lasagna was literally from Heaven" You had enjoyed that Lasagna a lot, and it made Gustav really happy. "Really?" Gustav asked, a wide smile on his face. You nodded, assuring Gustav. "Yes. The Best Lasagna I've ever had- and if I didn't feel so full that I could explode, I would have had even more" Gustav laughed, picking up his empty plate and yours to take them to the kitchen. "I'll be sure to make it more often, and I'll keep the leftovers in the fridge for you, Liebchen" He said over his shoulder as he made his way into the Kitchen. You cheered as you got up from your seat, helping Gustav to clear the table. 

You also helped him wash the dishes, but the two of you ended up washing each other more than the dishes, splashing each other with the soapy water as you squealed with laughter. You both ended up drenched in water and Soap suds from the dishwasher liquid you had squirted onto each other. 

You sat on the kitchen counter, wrapped in a dry towel as Gustav stood infront of you, carefully cleaning and drying your hair with a tea towel, getting rid of all the soap foam. You watched him, admiring how cute he was as he carefully concentrated on cleaning you up as you sat patiently on the counter, swinging your legs like a little child. Gustav's eyes met yours, a little smile forming on his face. 

"I love you Gustav" Your Boyfriend smiled at your words, a faint blush on his face. No matter how many times you told each other those three words, it never failed to fluster him at least a tiny bit. He cupped your face with his hand, his thumb stroking your cheek as he kissed you softly. "I love you too Y/N," He whispered before sinking his lips onto yours again.

[red-pill-to-swallow]

How to skin

Hey babes,

today I want to talk about skin. Our skin – especially the skin in our face – is one of the first things that we recognize in another person.

This is the reason why it is so important to have clean and vibrant looking skin. Your skin color doesn’t matter as long as it is healthy looking and free of pimples.

Clear skin is a universal sign for good health and it can elevate the look of a person completely.

Us humans tend to find other people more attractive if they have good skin – it’s something in our genes.

Personally, I’m blessed with good skin – I never had acne as a teenager, only some lonely pimples right before my period would start.

However, when my gynecologist put me on the pill when I was around 19 years old I suddenly developed acne and it was horrible. That’s when I started to take my skincare very serious and made a ton of research that I want to share with you.

Disclaimer: I am not a dermatologist. Those are simply my experiences and what I’ve learned over the years.

Why do we even get pimples?

A very short summary: we get pimples, because sebum is clogging our pores and bacteria starts to grow in the pore which makes it inflamed.

Is it my fault that I get pimples? Am I not clean enough?

Yes and no.

Yes – there might be people who are experiencing acne just because they don’t cleanse their face good enough. However that’s something that happens very rarely.

Most people with acne wash and clean their face more often and more thoroughly than the average person.

If you experience heavy acne, don’t try to treat it at home. Instead, seek out a dermatologist to see if the acne is fungal.

I would also recommend getting blood-work done to see if the acne is hormonal.

If you never had acne and suddenly get pimples all over your face it could also be because of your birth control, especially if your birth control is hormonal.

Like I said before, I suddenly developed acne after my gynecologist put me on the pill. The reason for that was that the pill had gestagen in it which is similar to progesterone.

Progesterone is basically stimulating the skin to produce more oils and sebum – pores get clogged more easily and pimples form.

Diet also plays a big part in acne. Personally, I don’t see a difference if I leave out dairy or gluten but some people almost see an immediate effect.

I wouldn’t recommend just stopping consuming gluten and dairy one day, please speak to your doctor beforehand.

Instead, try to limit your sugar and fat intake first before you start to take drastic actions.

My acne is neither hormonal nor fungal, what can I do?

Having a healthy skin-barrier is the key to having clean and vibrant looking skin!

Most of us fell victim to Clearasil and other harsh drugstore products in our youth. I remember slathering my face with a 3 in 1 face wash, face mask and peeling once and my skin was red for days. At that time I didn’t know that the products were simply way to harsh for the skin on my face and wondered why it didn’t work as good as in the commercials.

If you’re just starting out with your skincare journey, here are a few tips that you should consider when you pick out products and a routine:

- a healthy skin-barrier should be your first priority. Everything else can be addressed later on.

- all the products for your face should be fragrance free or contain very little fragrance.

- stick to your routine for at least one month before changing it

- introduce new products one after one and take your time to do so

How does a good basic skincare routine look like?

You don’t need thousands of products in the beginning, keep it simple and gentle.

A good routine could look like this:

am

Step 1: use a gentle cleanser to wash your face in the morning. Nothing too heavy. I like to use a foam cleanser for this.

Step 2: use a hydrating toner and apply it with your hands, so you get the most out of your product.

Step 3: while your face is still damp with the toner, apply a hyaluronic acid serum. Never put hyaluronic acid on dry skin, it won’t do anything.

Step 4: wait for the hyaluronic acid to sink into your skin and apply a hydrating face cream all over your face. Do this even if your skin is oily – it still needs moisture.

Step 5: apply sunscreen all over your face and neck. Sunscreen is essential, especially if you use exfoliants.

pm

Step 1: use a cleansing oil or cleansing balm in the evening. This is to remove your makeup and sunscreen from your face.

Step 2: use a gel cleanser and massage your skin for at least one minute. It’s important that you cleanse every small part of your face. Especially tricky is the skin around your nostrils and on your chin.

Step 3: again, use a hydrating toner and apply it with your hands.

Step 4: apply a thick face cream all over your face, best is something with panthenol.

What are the things that I should avoid?

- touching your face with dirty hands. Always wash your hands before you cleanse in the morning and in the evening. Avoid touching your face with your hands during the day.

- stop picking at pimples. I know – it’s frustrating, but the more you pick on your spots, the more inflamed they get. There also is a danger of you spreading around all that bacteria with your hands and possibly getting scars.

- Never ever use physical exfoliators in the face. They damage your skin with micro cuts that you can’t see with your eyes and damage more than they help. Always look for chemical exfoliators!

See you soon!

[cleos-monastery]

HOW I PROPERLY WASH MY FACE TO ACHIEVE CLEAR SKIN

: ̗̀➛As someone who wears make up and spends my time to create a look, I also spend my time to clean and undo my face and skin. DOUBLE CLEANSING has been part and probably the reason why it helped me so much with achieving a clear skin and I rarely break out too nowadays. Here are my steps on how I properly wash my face to achieve that clear skin.

✎STEPS 1 and 2: Prep before cleansing ✎STEPS 3, 4, 5, and 6: Meticulous process to remove make (eyes and especially lashes) ✎STEPS 7, 8, and 9: Cleansing the face with cleansing balm ✎STEPS 10, 11, and 12: Proper way of cleansing face with cleanser

༊*·˚Products that I used: Cleansing balm: I either use the Banila Co Zero Cleansing Balm or the Heimish All Clean Balm Micellar Water: Garnier Skin Active Micellar Cleansing Water All-in-1 Cleanser & Makeup Remover Cleansing foam: Senka Perfect Whip Moist Cleansing Foam (my personal holy grail)

1.Before anything else, I always wash my hands first with a hand soap. The first thing that comes contact to your skin is your hands and finger tips so it's best to always wash your hands first before you do your cleansing routine. 2. I use a headband and tie my hair into a bun so it doesn't get in the way with washing my face. 3. Using my cleansing balm, I scoop out a fair amount and start warming it up with my fingers for it to melt. I apply the melted balm to my eyes first to remove the eye make up. ╰┈➤I always always prioritize my lashes and I use my ring finger to clean my lashes to clean off the mascara. I take my time to clean my lashes until the mascara is off or any of the make up residue. 4. Once I'm done, I use a cotton pad to gently wipe of the remaining balm and residue 5. I use a q tip and wet it with a micellar water to remove any of the oil residue from the lash I use the other side of the q tip (the dry side) to clean my tear duct. 6. Once I'm done with the other eye, I do the steps 3, 4, 5, and 6 to the other eye before I proceed with double cleansing my face. 7. I use the same cleansing balm and scoop another amount and warm it up until it's melted and start to apply it all over my face. ╰┈➤Cheeks╰┈➤Forehead╰┈➤Chin These are the areas that my skin gets very congested when I apply make up so I always take my time and focus these areas by cleansing it off to get rid of dirt and any residue. 8. Before I wipe off my face, I let the balm stay for a minute before wiping it off with a clean and dry cotton pad AWAY FROM THE FACE (wiping it outwards the face)

9. Now this step, I wet my face before using a foam cleanser and squeezing enough amount unto my middle finger. 10. I emulsify my cleanser by adding a bit of water until it gets into a foamy like texture and applying to my wet face and gently washing my face. ╰┈➤Don't scrub and harshly wash it because it causes abrasions to your skin. ╰┈➤Wash your face for a minute 11. Rinse thoroughly and pat your face with a clean towel.

.୨⎯ "After these meticulous steps I proceed with my next routines" ⎯୧.

Let me know if you guys want to have another skin care routine of mine I could share! I am open for questions regarding these matters!₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎˚୨୧

[clone-anon-after-dark]

Memory Foam

TBB era Gregor x GN reader

Word count: 958

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, praise, oral (both receiving), penetration (reader receiving), unprotected sex

A/N: established relationship, this is my first time writing smut for smut’s sake, I really tried making sure this is gender neutral but if I missed something please let me know

You opened the door to the refresher and all the steam from the shower seemed to escape at once. 

“Room for one more,” you asked as Gregor turned around, looking absolutely delicious under the water.

He grinned.  “How can I say no to that?” 

You walked in and despite the fact that you had undressed in front of him many times before, he still made you blush a little as he watched you.  He moved so you could stand in your favorite spot where the water hit you just right.  He cupped your face and kissed your lips.

“I’m almost done, you know,” he said.

“That’s okay,” you replied. “You can wash me off.”

His strong hands knew exactly how much pressure to use to wash your hair and body.  After the water chased the suds off, he followed with little kisses down your face and neck.  You turned the water off and toweled each other off.  It had become very clear that he was more than a little excited to see you in your state of undress.  Of course he noticed you noticing.

“Credit for your thoughts,” he asked, winking and leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“You know, I was going to wash the bed sheets today. Maybe we could make sure they really need cleaned?”

He grinned and kissed you again.  You found yourselves in bed, Gregor on top of you, looking at you lovingly.  He started kissing your lips and down your neck.  He kissed you collarbones as he caressed your sides.  You felt him chuckle when you ran your hands through his hair, pulling him back up for another kiss before he moved further down your body.  He kissed your thigh before lifting your leg over his shoulder and kissing your other thigh, moving close to your center.  He watched your expressions the entire time.  He got such a thrill from getting you hot.

Gregor always took his time kissing and licking you in the most tender ways.  This was no different.  The lightest sucking and flick of his tongue made your heart dance.

“You taste amazing,” he said. “Absolutely delicious.”

He took his time, smiling with every moan and reaching up to hold your hand.  When you knew you were close you pulled him back up.

“Come here,” you said with a smile. “I want to at least try to return the favor.”

He wasn’t going to say no.  He kneeled next to your chest and you took his length in your hand and sucked lightly on the head.  You grinned wickedly at him, knowingly teasing him, but he had to admit it always sent electricity through his body.

It wasn’t long before he put his hands on your shoulders and gently pushed you back down on the bed, adding, “If you keep doing that, you know I won’t last long.”

His hands went back to work on you, knowing exactly how to make you feel simultaneously worked up and relaxed.  He took his time making sure you felt on fire in the best way.

“You ready,” he asked as he got back between your legs, making sure you were plenty wet.  It seemed a silly question in some ways.  He never left you unprepared.

“Yes,” you said, pulling him in for a kiss.  You took your time kissing him too, kissing each cheek and his nose, knowing it would make him smile and his heart skip a beat.  You then felt him slowly enter your body as he let out a soft groan.  He rested on an elbow on either side of you so he could lay his chest closer to yours.  He started at a lazy pace.  He wasn’t going to rush.

Your body felt so warm and your heart beat faster.  Your exhales were more like huffs of air.  A strand of hair fell from his head and as you reached to put it back, he paused and kissed the inside of your wrist.  Your heart felt so full.  You wrapped your arms around him and caressed his back as he resumed thrusting his hips. He always loved the feeling of being held.

As your bodies got hotter and more tightly coiled, he adjusted his position, but continued at the same pace.  You reached down to feel yourself.

“That’s right,” he said with a lustful grin.  “You know I love it.  Seeing you touch yourself.”

It was all the encouragement you needed and not a minute later you came undone underneath him, toes curling, muscles tightening and releasing in a glorious haze around him.  You then held on to his hips and a few deep thrusts later he finished inside you.

He rested his forehead on yours as you both caught your breath.  He moved to lay next to you, carefully pulling you into his arms and sighing when he felt you wrap your arms around him.  You laid there for you don’t know how long.  It didn’t matter.

“Credit for your thoughts,” you asked.

“If we keep going like this, this memory foam mattress is only going to remember one thing.”

You laughed and elicited a giggle from him.  

“I don’t mind if you don’t.”

He kissed your temple. “You know I don’t.”  

“I love you, Gregor.”

“I love you too, my wonderful.”

You held each other a few more minutes before you sighed.  “I guess we should clean up,” you said.

“Not yet,” he asked, eyes filled with a little plea. “I just want to hold you a little longer.

You reached up and moved the stray piece of hair out of his face again and kissed his beautiful lips.  You laid back against him, cuddled up in each other’s arms.  A little longer was just fine.

[inkformyblood]

i lose all (but not him) #3

Codywan, slow-burn, canon verse with some divergence. Written with CWW23 prompts: day 2 trading weapons. Ao3 link here

(Cody knitting is introduced in this chapter)

When the war is over, Cody is never stepping foot on to a planet that rains again. 

He wrenches his helmet up a scant few inches, the edge catching his nose and reopening the tear on his lip so the rainwater he spits out is streaked with red. It doesn’t matter, landing in the indistinguishable ground that is mostly mud and the parts that aren’t mud soon will be. With part of his face bare, the chill sets in, clawing at the edges of his gums and the exposed line of his chin, and it doesn’t slide away when he pulls his helmet back down. In the moment between the system flickering back into life, Cody waits in the delicate in-between, staring out across a bleak battlefield and wondering if he’s already dead. 

He would hope that death would feel warmer or, at the very least, be drier in places. 

His helmet systems flicker back into life, wavering between a wash of pale green that comes as standard loaded onto them straight out of the factory and Cody’s custom settings before it stabilises (much like Cody himself, factory made and manufactured and as heavily customised as he could stand). The scar on the side of his face itches before he knocks his wrist against the side of the helmet, pushing the foam lining back into place. It had been a long two weeks with a vibroblade and some borrowed cast-offs to try and mould it into something more comfortable and, even then, it still doesn’t fit quite right. 

It doesn’t matter.

Nothing else matters right now. 

Cody clicks his teeth together, pulling up the scroll of reports, scanning through them and dismissing them in the same moment. The plan is a good plan, enough variation to prevent the droids from learning their tactics and beginning to use them against the infinitely more fragile clones, but it isn’t good enough and it never will be. The counter in the top right of Cody’s helmet keeps flickering up and up and up, never moving downwards. He doesn’t know if the other Commanders have the same, he suspects Fox doesn’t. The Coruscant Guard is too far removed from the main bulk of the army for a count of their dead to be anything other than a blade Fox would craft himself, hone it to a sharp point and pierce it between his own ribs again and again and again and again with every tick of the counter upwards. Red on their armour, red on his hands, and for what? The Guard are lambs to a slaughter in an entirely different battlefield of senators who don’t see them as human, just poseable accessories. 

Another blink, another increase in the counter.

Diving into another thread, Cody pulls up a secondary helmet cam with a blink, dismisses it in the same moment and turns to another. He thinks, to himself and to the small patch of thought that isn’t his and twists around a scrap of his mind regardless — a net snarled around his foot, waiting for him to stop struggling so the whirling scavengers overhead could descend and pick his bones clean, but why, why wait until he’s grown, why wait at all — that this could be what a Jedi feels like, connected to everything and everyone and bearing witness to their deaths. Two of the helmet cams Cody taps into are still, wedged into the mud and nearly swallowed by it; one is in the medbay and Cody catches a glimpse of a medic, their face bare and their eyes wild; and several more are moving, fighting, still alive. Cody notes their locations on the map, comparing it to the plan.

He only catches one glimpse of the General. He is the General on the battlefield, a clear line of distinction drawn and held and then pushed as far as regulations would allow. He has to be because there are decisions to be made, choices that Cody would make if he needed to and that Skywalker couldn’t comprehend the need of. Obi-Wan trusted Cody to make them, he trusted him. 

(In an aftermath of one of those choices, Skywalker could be tricky. The errant patch of not-his thoughts locks on this, a scratch across Cody’s skull from the inside out, an incessant questioning why. It would take up too much time, time Cody couldn’t spare, to work through the necessary thought sequences to negate the demand so he answers.

Response: Skywalker cares for Obi-Wan. He doesn’t listen to him or obey his instructions at a rate of 64.5% but he would become unstable if Obi-Wan was deliberately injured or killed. He can’t know.)

Cody wonders why there’s a part of himself that he doesn’t know. 

He wonders if the others have it to.

An explosion echoes to his left, a distant kick-back of dirt spraying over his up-raised arm and knocking against the crevases of his helmet. His trim is barely still orange, the paint chipped away from the last campaign and he hadn’t found the time to correct it yet. If Cody’s map is right, and his map is right, then the explosion has something to do with the General. The original plan hadn’t called for any explosions but, giving Skywalker some allowance because the General asked him to, Cody had relented.

Obi-Wan and Skywalker’s relationship is strange, 

It doesn’t match to any command flow Cody knows. They had all been briefed on the practices within the Jedi Order prior to their deployment, the channel from Padawan to Knight to Master clear enough even if the promotions don’t seem to be based on anything solid. Obi-Wan had been vague about the subject of his own Knighting, merely stating that it had been a long time ago in a voice that hadn’t seemed stable enough to carry all of his grief, but he persisted through it. 

Cody waits for Skywalker to be decommissioned.

The Kaminoans wouldn’t have waited for this long.

He wonders if it would happen at all. He hopes not, dares to hope in a tiny fledging thing that doesn’t have a shape yet and is lodged somewhere in the hollow of Cody’s throat, keeping the grief-stricken scream inside because if it had been wrong — if it had been as incomprehensible to the galaxy at large as Cody thinks it might be — then why did his batch die?

Another explosion, closer this time. 

Cody flicks through the helmet cams once more, catching the raised edge of the torn skin on his lip between his teeth and pulling at it. The pain is immediate, a deep pulse that he can feel in the upper echelons of his skull and far more than the tiny scrap of missing skin would suggest. Just a glimpse. He just needs a moment to see if the General, if Obi-Wan is safe, he needs—

(Hand out.)

Cody obeys.

Several things happen in quick succession, absorbed at the time, only to haunt Cody in his sleepless nights. In some, the lightsaber slips through his fingers, or he hadn’t held his hand out in time, and he watches it sink into the mud to rot along with countless corpses that have his face. Sometimes, the lightsaber activates as it falls, often blood red instead of blue and Cody, sweat soaked and trembling in his tangle of blankets when he wakes, cannot say which one is worse, which one hurts the most when it cuts into him and slides through his armour like it isn’t even there. Other times, it isn’t Obi-Wan who slams into the bolt hole next to him, his robes long gone and his hair braided back from his face and faintly smoking, it’s an unknown figure but Cody is afraid, so afraid, and those nights he wakes with his nails cutting lines into his cheeks to keep himself from screaming.

The lightsaber hits his palm, Obi-Wan hits the ground next to him, and Cody moves, curling himself over Obi-Wan, his arm raised to shield them both. 

“Hello, Commander. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Sir.”

This close, Cody can make out the ethereal shine around Obi-Wan’s iris, the universe bleeding into him and peering through the crack in the haphazardly bolted bay door. His cheeks are flushed, not the deep hue of cherries that Cody always thinks of but the paler pink of exertion. Despite this, Obi-Wan’s breathing is regular, made impossibly more perceptible by the absence of his outer robe and the close fit of his tunic. Cody notices. He always does.

“Are you hurt?” Obi-Wan cups Cody’s helmet in his hands, his fingers marked as an intrusion on his HUD, one Cody is warned to remove as soon as he can.

“Minor impact from a droid earlier, sir.” Cody’s side aches, his breath catching at the height of his inhalation, but the likely bruise was well-earned. The droid had crumbled beneath his boot, a wail breaking off into a crackle of sparks, but the resulting blow jammed his chest plate into his torso. 

He wishes he wasn’t wearing his helmet.

Obi-Wan hums, his mouth twisting to one side as his brow furrows. It isn’t dissimilar to the expression he wears whenever a new scientific article lands amongst his paperwork, scattered throughout the regimented forms and updates that boil down the lives of an entire battalion to nothing more than a few lines of text. Cody holds still and lets Obi-Wan study him. 

It should feel uncomfortable, holding the same pinpoint attention to detail that the Kaminoans do, but Cody doesn’t feel the urge to square his shoulders or hold his breath in case the slightest flaw would betray him. Instead, he relaxes into Obi-Wan’s hold, lets his breathing slow to an easy roll, and commits the pinch of the freckle beneath Obi-Wan’s eye as he smiles to memory. Cody feels like it might be raised slightly to the touch, not the harsh line of Cody’s scar but a slow incline and fall, barely noticeable except through touch and intention. Obi-Wan’s thumb smooths over the ridge of his helmet, captured in delicate wireframe and saved to his internal memory in the same blink. Obi-Wan removes his other hand, dropping to work his fingers into Cody’s free hand, and Cody realises he is still holding Obi-Wan’s lightsaber like he intends to use it, a curled grip rather than a flat palm. Obi-Wan would let him too, Cody knows, and he doesn’t have the full spectrum words for the emotion that blooms in his chest because love doesn’t seem like it would be enough, and yet, and yet…

He loves Obi-Wan.

He’d let him die if he had to.

Both things are true.

“Breath in,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his touch nothing more than dull pressure against the thick material of Cody’s glove, but he’s pressing steadily, harder than he would for any nat-born just so Cody can feel it. He obeys, breaths in and tastes ash layering over his tongue that the scrubbers can’t fully remove from the air, the tang of a blasterpack charge, and something sweet, sweet despite everything.

“And out.”

Something clicks in Cody’s side, a bright burst of pain, and then, nothing. He raises his hand, lightsaber still clutched in his grasp, and presses his knuckles against the offending chest-plate, searching for the injury he knows is there, or had been there. 

“Force healing is not my speciality, I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan says, his nose wrinkling before he settles back into easy familiar grin. The emotional wound isn’t fresh, scarred over and buried deep but never deep enough. Cody recognises the worry, the concern that he would never be good enough, would never be enough, and his heart twists. He tips his head, presses his helmeted cheek into Obi-Wan’s hold for a moment.

“Thank you, sir.”

It feels better than bacta, as if he had never been hurt in the first place. 

“You’re quite welcome, Cody.”

Another explosion rumbles through the earth and Cody barely needs to shift to cover Obi-Wan’s head, the other man tucked close and curling himself impossibly closer. He’s taller than Cody by a head, his superior in a war that Cody had been created to fight in, but none of that matters when they’re folded together like this, conversation flowing between them like they’ve known each other for years, barely needing to try. It’s nice. Cody hadn’t expected anything in his life to be nice before.

A confession would be ill-timed for all of the literature extoling the virtues of a battlefield confession. There’s a holoshow that the shinies are particularly fond of, consumed in tiny crackling segments as they sprawl across their regulation bunks that are pressed so tightly together that they may as well be in the same bed or perched atop of shipping crates, the volume turned up loud enough that the sound echoes. Cody would turn a corner, pause by the hollowed-out tubes and listen to a story that he could feel in his bones. A few of the newer troopers, their armour plain and their faces unmarked, named themselves after the main leads, a handful for each.

Cody knows he loves Obi-Wan. That would have to be enough.

“I feel like giving Anakin this much free reign may have been a mistake.” Obi-Wan doesn’t move away from Cody as they straighten, settling into the crater next to him as easily as he would drop himself onto the small sofa in his room for afternoon tea. He tugs on the cuffs of his tunic, scuffing his fingers along the singed edge before moving on to checking his boots. Cody watches him, the feed flickering in the corner of his vision, the counter creeping ever upwards. 

Another blink, another scan through the feeds tracking the twirling glow of blue and destruction. “It is working, sir. Regretfully.”

Obi-Wan breaks into laughter, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut.

One of the main characters in the holo is clearly modelled after a Jedi, charismatic in a way that stretched beyond the allowance of disbelief, magic in a way that isn’t defined but just is, and they’re wearing robes. It isn’t specified which Jedi he is based off of, a brief glance at the holonet revealed threads and forums and one enterprising chat room that Cody is only reasonably confident isn’t entirely made of up other clones that are all embroiled in discussion over who it could be. 

Cody knows.

The shock of bright red hair when compared with Obi-Wan’s silver shot auburn had been enough of a giveaway, but a single ‘my dear’ and Cody had been hooked just as surely as he is in love with Obi-Wan. Cody quite likes having hobbies. He can see why nat-borns are so fond of them.

“I shall see you in a moment, my dear Commander. If I could just?” Obi-Wan reaches, not for the saber Cody is already offering him, but for Cody’s belt, unhooking his blaster. 

Cody nods, his ears ringing from the sudden rush of blood to his head, his face flushing. 

Obi-Wan checks the blaster like he had been made to do so. It doesn’t look as natural as it would for another clone, the motions threaded through their DNA and braided into their muscles, practiced again and again until they could complete a blaster check blind and bloody on the battlefield, but it’s close enough. It doesn’t hold the same heady weight as Obi-Wan wearing his armour, blasters are a credit a crate with no identifiable markers to them save for the serial number and whatever damage they might have accrued, but the blaster is still Cody’s for the time being, and, like Cody, the blaster is now Obi-Wan’s.

“You can use my saber, if you’d like.” The tips of Obi-Wan’s ears are pink but his voice is measured in exacting quantities. “The element of surprise can only be a benefit to us both.”

“Yessir,” Cody answer, automatic, without thinking, because if Obi-Wan only asked him to, Cody would tear the universe down and rebuild it with his bare hands. He might do that anyway. Call it a new hobby or something.

Obi-Wan winks and uncoils from the crater, throwing himself over the lip of it without a moment’s hesitation. Cody waits, forces his heartbeat to steady, and follows him. 

⁂

Cody doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the hush after battle. There’s pockets of noise, the beginnings of a rudimentary camp pooled around the main stronghold and clones sit shoulder to shoulder, pooled across each other’s laps as they compare new scars and pick up old conversations; the spills of shouts from the medtent, still fighting their own battles that will be neatly packaged into a report for Cody to despair over later. 

He moves past them all. Made apart, alone.

“Commander!”

Cody turns at the call, his brow furrowing as he scans his immediate surroundings. The battlefield is churned to near abstraction, hollows pitted over the surface from the heavy cannons fired from the AT-AT’s. A few lay where they had fallen, legs crumpled beneath them, and Cody looks towards the closest one, the chest caved in by an improvised round he is reasonably confident is inert. Obi-Wan perched atop waves down to him, his hair a halo of fire in the sun peeking through the heavy cloud cover. 

Without being asked, just because he wants to, Cody makes his way over to him, the mud clinging to his boots. They won. They’re both safe and here and together. He can love like this, in moments.

The metal creaks beneath him as he climbs, Cody far more compact than the graceful stretch of Obi-Wan and made heavier from the dense makeup of his bones and the heft of his armour. Beneath the burn of the exertion, Cody thinks about Obi-Wan, about the splash of freckles over his face and arms and the hidden constellations contained within them. Moles were commonplace and Cody had seen in the medical files that one of the shinies had patches of paler skin that had slowly grown over one arm and the side of his face while he had been in the vat, but they had nothing quite like freckles. They were different. They were new.

“Here, Cody. Let me help.”

Obi-Wan braces himself against the hollowed out chest of the machine, stretching his arm down to Cody. He’s shed more layers, the long sleeves of his tunic exchanged for the uneven colouration and broad straps of his under tunic, and Cody snaps his gaze away, unable to find a safe place to let it land. If he looks at Obi-Wan directly, even now, he’ll fall apart and not know why that would ruin them both. After the war, he thinks desperately, catching the thought in his teeth and tasting copper. He can tell Obi-Wan after the war.

Cody takes his hand without hesitation.

“Thank you, sir,” Cody says, swaying slightly as he adjusts his footing on the makeshift platform. They aren’t exceptionally high up given the hunched form, but the wind tugs at every exposed edge of his armour, working its way beneath to the thin fabric of his blacks. Sweat has dried along his brow and the divot of his spine and he feels the chill keenly there. Obi-Wan reclines back into his chosen spot and pats the ground next to him. It reminds Cody, somehow, of the low couch in Obi-Wan’s room, cosy despite the surroundings, somewhere that he would like to be. He sits next to Obi-Wan, stretching his legs out to match the other man after a moment. Obi-Wan’s arm stretches along the back of them, his fingers tapping against the edge of the metal.

“I believe you dropped this, sir?” Cody unclips the lightsaber from the new piece of hardware he had commissioned. It detaches with a fresh click and Obi-Wan watches the movement. He can’t fully describe the look on the other man’s face — a bright mixture of sheer delight and something else that feels sweet like cherries — but Cody grins despite himself. He’s still wearing his helmet and he sits forward, pulling it off with his free hand and sets it down next to him. He doesn’t hide his grin. 

His heart twists and stammers in his chest, a faulty cog left to rust, consequences be damned.

Obi-Wan breaks into laughter as the sun peers through a crack in the cloud, the universe cradling him close and bathing him — and Cody as they’re pressed so close, thigh to thigh and hip to hip, Obi-Wan’s fingertips an intermittent brand against Cody’s pauldron — in glorious golden sunlight. Cody tips his face back and closes his eyes. There’s no counter here, no steady stream of alerts and reports, just the endless comforting hush of sun-streaked evenings. Although, it could be morning. He hasn’t checked his chronometer for anything other than expected explosions for a while now.

“It’s evening,” Obi-Wan answers, his words rumbling through Cody. “And this is one of my favourite ways to spend them.”

“On an AT-AT with a clone?” Cody asks, feeling his words slip and stumble into each other. It didn’t feel worth the effort to properly move to speak clearly, exhaustion sitting heavy in his bones.

“Spending time with a friend,” Obi-Wan corrects. There’s a warm press against the top of Cody’s head, his thoughts firing like a speeder before they tick back over into idling, consumed by the knowing that Obi-Wan has tipped his head sideways and rested his temple against the crown of Cody’s head. 

Obi-Wan continues, his fingers migrating from tapping against the metal to marking out that same rhythm against Cody’s pauldron. “I did catch that last kick against the droid however. It was very fine work, Cody.”

“Thank you.” Cody pauses, swallows past the anchor in his throat. “Obi-Wan.”

He isn’t Force-sensitive, but he doesn’t need to be to feel the burst of joy from the other man, the brightness of his grin that can’t be uniquely cast just for Cody but he can fool himself that it is, just for the moment; the release of tension that Obi-Wan always carries too strongly down his right side that matches Cody down to the clenched fist on his left, his habitual reach despite everything the Kaminoans tried to implant in them so it had only made sense to attach the lightsaber clip to his left hip; the tap-tap-tap of Obi-Wan’s fingers against his pauldron slipping into a different rhythm, a repeated set of threes again and again and again.

“I appreciate the use of your blaster also,” Obi-Wan says, finally, his laughter colouring his words a trembling shade of honey. He pulls it free from his belt and reaches over to place it in Cody’s cupped hands, curling Cody’s fingers over it almost absent-mindedly. It must be an action he’s used to from the Temple, Cody can remember a similar exchange occurring with the shinies, and Obi-Wan catches himself with a soft exhalation midway through Cody’s fourth finger before he continues. “You can tell me if I overstep, Cody. I don’t want you to ever feel uncomfortable because of something I have done.”

“If you do so,” Cody says, the undertones of a vow in his words because he could follow through now, he can make that choice. “I will tell you.”

“Good.”

Obi-Wan stretches, breaking the brief moment of contact between them and Cody mourns it all the more for knowing that it would end. It’s a full body stretch, closer to the muscle-stretching bone-realigning heft after stumbling from a bed that he hasn’t had to leave for hours, and Obi-Wan’s undertunic rides up, bunching at his shoulders and exposing the curve of his belly, a line of dark hair stretching from the curiosity of his navel down. Cody averts his gaze downwards, past their feet towards the landscape beyond but something else catches his eye. 

“You’re wearing the socks?”

They’re by no means perfect or even symmetrical. Cody had studied the instructions from the holonet and the accompanying video made by a bubbling young Twi’lek until the images of her careful creation had been burned into his neural pathways and his too-big room had felt like it fit a little better, but he knew his didn’t match.  One stretches far above it’s brother, the heel catching Obi-Wan halfway up his ankle and it had bunched in the curve of his foot, the repeating pattern broke in several places, wandering back into general cohesion before slipping away once more. He had run out of the wool part the way through one as well, the remnants fuzzy and clinging to itself and everything else, and the replacement is a brighter hue, unnoticeable until the two were joined together over the toes. 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan hooks his fingers through Cody’s, squeezing them tight and Cody returns the gesture, dares to hope that he could survive like this. “They’re perfect.”

Socks is, perhaps, a slight stretch to call the garment that Cody had made. He had followed the instructions from the holonet and watched a video until the images had burned into his neural pathways while he had been folded into his single bunk in a room that felt too large for just him, but the objects he produced only bore a passing similarity to socks. 

“Thank you, Obi-Wan. I’m glad you liked them.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan laughs and everything is right with the universe once more. “I more than like them, Cody. I love them.”

[stusbunker]

How about a nice, tight little fic about Sam letting [your choice of OC or reader or character] shave his face?

The motel sink dripped rhythmically as Sam felt her drag the razor down his cheek. He sat on the closed toilet lid and watched her knit brow, lost in her own concentration. It had started as a joke, her threatening to shave his sideburns clean off. Then it turned into a bet. And well, needless to say, she won that one.

Sam’s hands felt heavy on his knees, but he didn’t want to get in her way, so he kept them there, sweaty and idle. She swooshed the razor into the water, washing it clean to start a fresh line through the white foam covering Sam’s face. Her free hand came up to tilt his chin, angling him into the meager light. Her hands were so soft, and the way she held him made Sam feel oddly exposed.

He barely noticed the familiar scrape of the blades as they slid across his skin, too immersed in the moment, in her attention. He had never noticed the fleck of amber in her right eye, or the way her scent seemed tangible from this close. Things his brain put together, but not something he’d ever dare say out loud. 

There was so much left unsaid between them it had become its own language.

She tilted his chin, easing along the sealed crease of his mouth, little strokes across the top lip and then the bottom. She was so close he could count her eyelashes. Sam forced himself to hold his breath, fearing all the damage that tiny act might set off.

Coward.

She stood up, assessing her work before cleaning off the razor once more. 

Sam exhaled, remembering to keep his head tilted back to keep his hair from getting in his face, in her way. She took his face in her hands, moving his jaw side-to-side, checking the lines were even, that she hadn’t missed any patches. Sam couldn’t help the smirk that crept up at the seriousness of her inspection. 

“Get it all?”

“I think so—.” she reached behind him and grabbed the wash cloth. “Let me see here.” 

She wiped him clean and Sam struggled to stay still, to keep his hands from holding her hips or drawing her closer. Her lips were plump and so impossibly close. He dared not look any higher. And once the last of the shaving cream was cleared from his face, she stroked over her work, caressing Sam’s skin. His jaw clenched, his body ached from inaction and his eyes closed. He waited for her on the edge of a cliff, until she would let him fall or fly.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, eyes still closed.

“Everything alright?”

He opened his eyes and swallowed everything her eyes asked him. “Uh, yeah. Am I presentable?”

He was terrible at clearing the air, and even his attempt at a chuckle just made him feel more pathetic.

“Sam,” she reprimanded.

“What?” He couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Kiss me, will ya?”

“Oh, okay.” 

He peeled his hands off his thighs, sat up and moved his hands up to her face in a near mirror of her hold on him. And just as he tilted his head, she beat him to the punch. Her lips slammed into his and she invaded his space. She kneed between his legs and licked into his mouth until Sam finally let go and met her in the middle, with tongue and teeth and open mouthed hunger.

From there they started to decipher their unspoken language, teaching each other what each pause and each look had truly meant.