#edge trimmer

[rehauindia]

https://www.rehau.com/in-en/interiors-edges-tools

Edge banding trimmer machine from German manufacturer brand in India. Contact REHAU India for the latest price of veneer wood and PVC edge cutter portable tool.

[viridianstarlight]

It's 12:30am. Why can I hear someone up the road using a whipper snipper?

[angelstrawbabie420]

how did i manage to give myself FIVE blisters cutting the lawn. jesus christ

[moomeecore]

no body gets hurt when they explode

if we get at least someone to choose each one we could take them all out

your country needs you. i need you

[astarioffsimpmain]

Astarion Headcanons

Because Astarion consumes nearly every braincell I own, here's some headcanons on how Stari finds comfort in your boobs. 

~

Warnings: Nudity; mentions of trauma; nightmares; unintentional puncture wounds

He loves to use them as his pillows; your bedroll is never your own again after Astarion discovers that you don't mind welcoming him in during the night when he's feeling exceptionally lonely and vulnerable. Not that you mind, what with how he nuzzles his face between your breasts, breathing in your familiar scent and wrapping his arms tightly around your middle. You melt a little inside when the vampire spawn fully relaxes into you after a few deep breaths, and you start running your fingers through his silver curls, always surprised at how downy they are, despite how much they'd been through. A contented shudder goes through his body and he sighs into your skin, his breath the only thing that runs hot about him, sending a shiver through you as well. You can't help but let the corners of your mouth curl upwards and your eyes fall closed at the sensations encircling you. Being entangled in him is just as comforting to you as it is to him, and you know that if you didn't have to arise the next morning in order to continue your journey, you'd be fully satisfied with not knowing where you ended and he began for as long as he allowed. 

He uses them as stress balls (and you cannot convince me otherwise); you've awoken in the middle of the night with a yelp of pain in your chest. There's several seconds of panic before you realize that the source of the pain is Astarion's sharp fingernails digging into your ample breast. He's still asleep, but he's writhing, his brow furrowed and eyes clamped shut. 'Nightmare,' you think to yourself as you gently try to pry his five tiny daggers from your flesh. But he must have felt safety slipping away in his sleep, for his grip only tightened and you had to bite the inside of your mouth as his nails punctured your skin and tiny streams of blood appeared around your areola. "Stari," you mutter, your fingers finding his hair and massaging his scalp gently as you crane your neck down to kiss his damp forehead. The pain is bringing tears to your eyes, but you know trying to toss him off is no good: his grip is like iron on you. So you shush him quietly and tenderly run your warm palms along every bit of skin you can reach, trying to soothe his subconscious horrors from your helpless place beside him. Eventually his hold on you went slack, and you were able to pull his nails from your skin, shuddering in pain as each jagged edge flayed your skin on its way out. 'We're going to have to discuss nail trimmers' you thought humorlessly as you wiped the blood away with your tunic that lay close by. "Mmm, love?" His sleepy voice froze you in your movements, head turning to find him blinking slowly, prying his eyelids open as he returned to consciousness. He reaches for you, hardly even awake enough to know where he is, but still the first thing he wants is you. You can't deny him, so you reach back for him, pulling his face to your bosom and planting kisses in his curls. But he stiffens, and you cringe, realizing that he must have smelled your blood. "Darling, did I-?" He whispers, ghosting his thumb over the clotting nail marks. "You were having a nightmare, my love." You murmur between kisses to the crown of his head, the tips of his ears, his forehead, nose, and cheeks. He tries to pull away, ashamed of hurting you, but you hold him fast, your arms circling his shaking shoulders as you pull him back to you. "I knew what I was signing up for, my darling." You thumb the skin of his shoulders where you hold him and he releases a soft sob into the valley of your breasts. "I hurt you. The one person who's never hurt me." He wails. "My dear heart, I will suffer that and much more to see you smile again. You will never suffer alone again." Gently, you tilt his chin up and wipe the tear streaks from his beautiful face. "I love you," You whisper to him. "I love all of you." Another whimper left his lips and he nodded, burying his head in the crook of your neck and wrapping his arms around you. 'One day,' you thought. 'One day he won't have to hurt like this anymore, and I'll be there to see him smile again.'

Fin

[im-ovulating]

(A/n: I got a new laptop so I can officially say goodbye to my sis's pc and get on your smut requests lmao)

(Istg my blog is just Obey me and Twilight at this point lmao; I do write for other fandoms I promise😅)

Word Count: 1,434

Summary- NSFW headcanons for our favorite boys + dick analysis

Warnings: Shibari, Creampie, Blowjobs, Throat Fucking, Choking, Belly Bulge, Tit Washing/Cumming on Chest

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Obey Me Brothers NSFW Headcanons

-----------------------

Lucifer-

Dick analysis:

6 1/2 inches and girthy

He has two thick veins running along either side, leading all the way to his mushroomed tip

Speaking of tips- his is almost constantly a pretty rose shade, just in between pink and red

He doesn't like mess and that translates to his body hair as well

He keeps himself nicely trimmed -not too much hair, but not clean shaven

The exception is his happy trail; he doesn't think his hair should come above his pants waistline

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves to tie you up and watch you fall apart on his cock -the only mess he'll tolerate

Lucifer is a master at shibari

He'll have you laid up on his bed with the most beautifully crafted knots pressing just tight enough into your skin as he plows into you

His favorite way to tie you up is on your back, arms tie up and behind your head with your thighs roped to your chest

It's perfect in every way: The satin sits beautifully against your skin as it exposes your pretty, fluttering hole to him.

Let's not forget his favorite part of all- he gets to see your gorgeous face, hot with embarrassment at being so exposed mixing with the way your mouth falls in to an 'o' as he finally sinks into you

Absolutely does slow deep thrusts

He knows how torturous it is, especially after he's wound you up so tight

He is just sadistic enough to ignore his own edging just to rile you up to your limit

-

Mammon-

Dick analysis:

7-8 inches and thin

He has a pretty narrow base with a larger head

Not quite a mushroom tip, but still flared

His tip sits at the same color as the rest of his length

He definitely shaves, at most he'll have a small patch of hair right at his base

Other than that, he keeps it clean shaven

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves downward doggy style

He loves being able to hit all the deep spots inside you as he presses your face into the pillows with a hand at the back of your neck

His thrusts are erratic and fast

With just enough control to have that coil tighten in your belly

He might not be the thickest, but he damn sure knows how to use his length to his advantage

He knows just how to make you crumble with his cock

If you can get pregnant, you better be on the pill, because he loves cumming deep inside you, watching as it squelches out around his base

His second favorite thing is watching his cum ooze out of you

It just means he gets to fuck it back into you

-

Leviathan-

Dick analysis:

About 5-6 inches and average girth

He rarely trims -just enough to keep his pubes under control without having to constantly go at them with scissors or a trimmer

He has a thick vein along the bottom of his cock that spiders out the closer you get to the tip

His tip is a pretty purple shade that gets darker the harder he is

This boy has h e a v y balls

He has breeder balls through and through

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves being in your mouth

There's something about the way you sit so prettily in front of him, sucking him off as he plays a game

The lewd sounds of your spit mixing with his precum egging him on to finish this boss quicker so he can properly fuck your throat

Once he finishes the level, his hand is in your hair, holding you in place as he bucks his hips into your face

If he's super lost to the pleasure or upset, his tip is pushing down your throat, creating a bulge with each thrust

He doesn't care if you're gagging around him

Just finish him off like a good little pet, hmm?

-

Satan-

Dick analysis:

6 inches and thick

He doesn't have any prominent veins but it almost bulges in the middle before tappering back down near the tip

Speaking of, his tip is deep red -almost maroon

He slightly curves to the left

Does not care about hair

He just lets it grow how it was intended

It grew there for a reason, why would he touch it?

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves taking you from behind while on your sides

He can simultaneously hike your leg up and choke you at the same time

What's not to like?

Not to mention the stunning arch of your back when he slams into that special spot

Or the way your head throws back, giving him unrestricted access to the column of your throat

If he's more into his feels, he'll hold you chest to chest as he grinds slow and deep into you

He loves to cum on your ass

There's just something about the way it drips down the curve of your cheeks that has his cock standing at attention again almost immediately

-

Asmodeus-

Dick analysis:

He's around 5 inches with an average girth

The shaft of his dick is a pale cream color that contrasts perfectly with his pretty pink tip

His tip is extra sensitive, the slightest touch has his dick twitching

The shaft has just the slightest curve upwards

The perfect angle for both reaching all your favorite spots and for getting jerked off

Definitely shaves all of his pubes

Why would he want to hide himself when his cock is just so pretty?

NSFW Headcanons:

Asmo loves all positions, but there's something special about missionary to him

Whether it's being able to see the pleasure he's giving to his partner or them being able to bask in the perfection that is his 'o' face

Maybe it's a mix of the two (It's mostly the latter)

He lets out the most serene sounds you'll hear in your life as he draws similar sounds from you

Doesn't matter if he's giving or receiving, it'll be the best time of your life, don't you worry

-

Beelzebub-

Dick analysis:

A solid 9, maybe 10, inches with a monstrous girth

He has a large vein that runs down the top that splits into a 'Y' shape as it nears the head

He's got a bigger base and shaft with a narrow head

His tip is a light purple-bordering red

He lightly trims his hair every other week

Except his happy trail -He maintains that to be the perfect trail starting just below his belly button and leading down to his v-line

Luckily for you, Beel's a shower not a grower

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves fucking you against a wall or on desks/counters

Hard and fast or slow and steady doesn't really matter to him

He just wants to fuck you

Don't get me wrong- he knows how to match the mood, he just doesn't have a preference

His preference is simply being inside you

Well, as inside of you as he can get

Most of the time, you can only fit a little more than half of him in you

Even that has a borderline uncomfortable stretch

Is kind of a sadist in that he loves to push down on the bulge that forms in your stomach

Doesn't mind pulling out if you want him to

Give him the chance, though, and he's nutting inside you, tip just inside your fluttering hole as it desperately tries to pull him back in

-

Belphegor-

Dick analysis:

6-7 inches with average girth

Definitely has a c-shape to it

He has a slight vein down the underside

Has a couple freckles along the length

Another member of the no-shave-club

He just doesn't care if there's hair or not

If you ask, he might trim it but otherwise it's as au naturel as you can get

His tip is generally the same color as his shaft, maybe a shade or two darker

NSFW Headcanons:

Whatever positions that require the least amount of effort are his favorite

His top ones being both cowgirl and reverse cowgirl

Don't let that fool you, he's still in control

Hands griping your hips in a bruising vice as he fucks you dumb

Edging is his absolute favorite thing to do to you

It doesn't require too much energy

All he has to do is still you once he notices your bouncing becoming more erratic

If he's not too exhausted, he'll have you on your back as he relentlessly pounds into you

He really only works on finishing you once he's had at least one orgasm (refer back to the edging)

His favorite places to cum are in you and on your chest

He likes watching your chest rise and fall as you gasp for breath and seeing his cum dribble down your torso

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

july

a summer in dunbrook, part two

a/n: SUMMER BUZZCUT! I REPEAT, SUMMER BUZZCUT!!

summary: with the dropped ice cream blissfully forgotten, a soft laugh billowed out of you, “thank you,” as your fingers raked through his dark hair, “now,” you let out a deep exhale, “are you ready to lose some of this?” and tugged gently at his locks. 

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, sequel to lilac, smut, lumberjack AU, ice cream, haircut, nightmare, crying, kissing, dirty talk, oral

word count: 1834

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Both of your feet swung gently as you sat on the kitchen table and let your gaze trace the shirtless boulder of a man who wandered around the cabin in a wild goose chase. The ice cream cone you were holding for Frank as he searched slowly melted in the scorching heat the treat helped combat. In between licks of your own cone, firmly clasped in your dominant hand, you raised up your other to lap up the streak of strawberry cream that had melted down your forearm. 

Stretching up from his molten position on the kitchenette’s floor, Enzo’s back rose to graze the soles of your feet and he momentarily paused there, happily puffing as you caressed his long spine, before he moseyed off to hop up on the couch. 

“Ah!” Frank exclaimed, the entire length of his arm stuffed inside a cabinet, “found it!” and yanked out a pair of clippers for you to see, “told you I had some lying around.” 

Crossing the living space to join you once again, he placed the trimmer beside where you sat, before he retrieved the half-melted treat you handed back to him. 

Your gaze however narrowed as you watched him devour the remainder of his ice cream in a matter of seconds. 

“What are you doing?” your teeth nearly began to ache as you watched him bite into the frozen dessert, “why can’t you just lick it like a normal human being?” 

A slight smirk then appeared on his lips as he swallowed the last bit. Holding your gaze, he grabbed your wrist, which kept your ice cream angled towards your lips, and raised it up till it was completely out of your reach. But before you could complain, his head tilted as he let his tongue trace the melted chocolaty line that dripped down and created stripes from your palm to your elbow.

“Like that?” he cheekily asked before continuing his lapping. 

Breath caught in your throat as you stared back at him, a hazy chuckle then bubbled out of your lungs as the softness of his tongue and the silkiness of his open-mouthed kisses sufficiently melted you just like the ice cream, still clutched in your grasp. 

“Y-yeah, that’s–, uhm, yeah…” your eyes fluttered as you watched him slowly sink down to the floor. 

Planting a peck on one of your knees that poked out of the thin sundress that had ridden up, he teased, “you’re such a messy eater, sweetheart,” he nipped you playfully, “I think you managed to get some ice cream down here too…” 

An airy giggle then escaped you as his beard tickled your thigh, “probably…” 

“You always eat your ice cream so slowly that you end up wearing it all,” he jested, though you both knew you hadn't managed to get any on the spot where his hot kisses were clearly on a path towards. 

His grasp then scooped around you and yanked you closer to the edge, closer to him.

“You want me to clean it up for you?” he glanced up at you as he pushed the hem of your dress up higher, his hot breath already fanning over the wet spot decorating the cotton of your underwear. 

“Mhm,” you nodded, biting down on your grin as he hooked a finger in your panties and pulled the gusset to the side, clutching it there as your legs instinctively cracked further open for him. 

As his sloppy kisses then began to devour you whole, your free hand fluttered down and weaved in with his hair, softly clutching it for purchase as his sturdy nose nudged firmly against your clit, before enclosing his attention around it, making your entire body buzz.

He eagerly lapped up your wetness, just as if it was the dripping ice cream cone in your hand, the one that swiftly dropped to the tabletop beside your seat as your thighs began to tremble on either side of his thick skull.

His name tumbled off your lips as a hazy chant before it melted into a shuttering moan that reverberated throughout the small cabin. 

Giving your puffy pearl one last peck that managed to make you jump slightly from the sensitivity, Frank uttered, “there,” and let your panties snap back into place and wetly cling against your core, “all clean.”

With the dropped ice cream blissfully forgotten, a soft laugh billowed out of you, “thank you,” as your fingers raked through his dark hair, “now,” you let out a deep exhale, “are you ready to lose some of this?” and tugged gently at his locks. 

Pulling himself back up to his feet, he stole a swift kiss before declaring, “very.”

Helping you off the counter, you then seized the clippers as he caught one of the chairs by the small dining table. With a short whistle from Frank’s lips, Enzo jumped off the couch and tottered out the ever agape front door and joined the pair of you on the small porch. 

The golden dog curled up by Frank’s feet as he planted himself in the chair, briefly bending down to scratch his ear as you studied the settings on the hair clippers. 

Standing behind him, you breathed, “alright,” before planting your palms on each of his broad shoulders and craning your neck to kiss the crown of his head, “welcome to my barbershop, sir. What can I do for you on this fine summer day?”

“Just take it all off,” his fingers swiftly ran through both his beard as well as the short waves tickling his forehead. 

“How short?” you extended the trimmer down for his sight to catch. 

He swiftly slid the guard up only a few millimetres, just enough for a proper buzzcut, one you knew he’d adorned countless of times throughout his life, though a side of him you’d never had the chance of actually witnessing yourself. 

Once all of his locks dusted the sun-heated porch and only a shadow of the dark hair remained on the curve of his skull and along his wide jaw, you clicked the buzzing of the clippers off and brushed some more fuzz off his bare shoulders. 

“Wow…” you breathed as stepped back and took in his new appearance properly. 

“What? Did you take off one of my eyebrows?” he jested, glancing back at your stunned smile. 

“No, they’re there, you’re perfect, you’re–, wow…” you giggled as you hadn’t quite expected it to suit him this much, nor stir up the butterflies deep within your belly Frank had tamed only moments before, “you look really handsome…”

Catching a hold of you, he scooped you close and brought your grin to his. The now short scruff that prickled his jaw was a stark yet welcome contrast to the softness of his lips. 

However, when the kiss began to heat up and his silky tongue flickered out to dance against yours, a laugh suddenly burst from you. 

“What?” he breathed blissfully as he gazed up at your giggling visage and let his hands wander across your bottom. 

“It’s just–,” you chuckled, “you still taste like me.”

Catching your jaw, he then guided you back down and stole another peck.

“And you still taste like ice cream.” 

Stirring awake with a shaky gasp of air, the petrifying nightmare that had haunted your slumber caused tears to swiftly sting the corners of your eyes.

Glancing to your left, you discovered that you fortunately hadn’t managed to wake your partner, though you surely would if he heard the sobs that were fighting to escape you. 

Carefully, you tried to be swift as you peeled the thin sheet off of your sweat-glistening frame and got out of bed. Your tip toes carried you all the way through the cabin, past the snoring dog by the cold fireplace, and out of the front door till you stood on the rough wooden planks of the porch. 

Shuttering weeps rocked your form and caught on the mild night breeze that rustled the treetops sprouting up around the nearby lake. 

And when the uncontrollable cries began to mellow out and morph into weary sniffles, you found yourself crumbled onto the crooked steps with your head resting against the railing. 

As you blinked down at the scar that broke up the skin on your upper thigh, nauseating images of the vivid dream began to flood you once more just before you heard the door behind you creak and a low gravel found your ears. 

“Hey,” the molasses of Frank’s deep voice flowed over you, though you couldn’t gather the strength to answer him. As he overheard one of your soft sniffles, it felt as if you only blinked once before he was sitting beside you on the steps. Catching sight of your tear-stained cheeks in the moonlight, he only exhaled softly, “do you wanna talk about it?” 

“I’m okay,” you answered automatically, though he didn’t hesitate to gently correct.

“That’s not what I asked,” clearly seeing through your white lie. 

“It was just a nightmare,” you glanced back down at your legs poking out of the borrowed t-shirt you’d slept in, “same as it usually is, so no, I don’t particularly wanna talk about it…” 

Tenderly grasping your hand in his, he simply nodded, “okay,” before the sound of paws clicked against the floors behind you.

Before you could turn your head, you felt as Enzo came up beside you and nuzzled himself against you. 

“Hey, buddy,” a soft smile crinkled up your bloodshot eyes as you briefly tangled your free fingers in his honied fur, before he sat down beside you and you slinked your arms around him completely, letting your face smoosh into his fluff. 

“You’re such a good boy,” Frank uttered as he scratched him as well.

“The best,” you pulled back and wiped your nose with the back of your hand, “I’m so sorry your family haven’t found you yet,” tears nearly began to prickle out again as you spoke, “you’re so wonderful, how could someone not turn the world upside down just to track you down again?”

“Maybe his owner was someone who didn’t treat him alright and that’s why he left,” Frank thought out loud, “or maybe it was someone old, someone who died, and that’s why no one’s found him.”

“Do you really believe that?” you glanced up at him. 

“Maybe,” he tilted his head, then slowly said, “I’ve also been thinking, perhaps if we continue to still not hear anything, that maybe we keep him.”

Sucking in a breath, “really?” the corners of your lips couldn’t help but tug upwards. 

“Yeah, I mean if you want to,” Frank shrugged, “I know you adore him, but I also know that saying yes to something like that is completely different from just giving him a temporary place to stay–”

“No, I want to,” you spat out, clinging your arms tighter around Enzo as your gaze flickered down to look at him, “I wanna–, yes.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[tojigasm]

I just wanted to do more on the trimming butcher's beard cause it's so cute and fluffy and amazing. So like. Here's a lil story for youuuuu

It was easy to forget how quickly his beard grew in. At least it was until he stopped trimming it back. Growing uneven and scraggly. Leaving an ungodly amount of beard burn on your chin, neck, and even your thighs.

You had had enough. Buying cream to soothe the aching burn he left after each heated make out session was getting to be expensive enough you considered cutting him off.

So here you were, sat neatly in his lap, thighs bracketing his hips as he sat on the closed toilet lid. A straight razor to clean up the edges that had crawled up his cheeks. Anytime you pulled away to wipe off the hairs from the blade he playfully nipped at your fingers holding the skin taught.

"So good to me doll, cleaning me up" he said, chapped lips pressing a kiss to the small bite he had made. Holding perfectly still as you moved to the other side.

"It's more for my own health than your cleaner look," you muttered, always careful as you set aside the blade. The loud buzzing fills your ears and the vibrations from the trimmer, making your fingers numb after a second. After making sure for the third time you were using the right guard, you started on the coarse stragglers.

"It's not that bad," he said through gritted teeth, trying not to move too much. Still as a statue aside from the lazy rubbing and massaging of his hands along your ass and thighs. Almost kneading like a cat as he let you clean him up.

Maybe ten minutes later of careful cleaning up did you get off his lap, letting him look in the mirror. Grunting in approval as he brushing his fingers through it a few times.

"Looks wonderful, angel." he said, giving you a chaste kiss before leaving you to clean up the bathroom. Bastard.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[icallhimjoey]

you wanna try to get back into writing? Say no more! The other day I saw a insta reel (it was in Spanish) but it was about a couple and the guy had asked his gf to shave his beard for him and that was the cutest thing ever. The delicacy of it all. So I was thinking, possibly write something like that but with joe? He needs to shave for an upcoming movie role and he asks if reader wants to do it, and it’s the most intimate thing ever!

girl... just, fuck all the way off, jesus christ Wordcount: 2.9K

---

Love You A Twelve

"So, good news and bad news,"

"Uh oh," you'd only just gotten in and toed off your shoes by the front door as Joe appeared in the hallway to welcome you home.

You narrowed your eyes to gather how serious Joe was being.

Sometimes, the bad news was hardly bad news, but just some stupid silly shit like, "You've got to hang out with me all night." and you'd pretend to be so disappointed for a second.

Other times, it was the good news that was hardly good and didn't make up for the bad news at all.

Unfortunately, going by Joe's apologetic eyes, it was probably the latter.

"Bad first," you winced as you said it.

"They need me clean-shaven tomorrow,"

Your stomach dropped.

"What? But– noo," you whined, eyebrows immediately knitting, mouth pulling into a pout.

Joe copied your face and revealed he was holding a trimmer.

"Yea, sorry... it's got to go,"

"Is the good news that you're joking?"

Out of your coat, with your shoes neatly placed to the side, you didn't waste time to get your hands on his scruff.

"No, the good news is, I thought it'd be nice to let you do it," Joe said, sticking out his chin a little as your fingers curled to scratch him underneath.

You gasped a little gasp, eyes immediately twinkling.

"Yea?" Joe asked for confirmation on your sudden excitement.

"I mean, no," you let your eyes roam his jawline. "But, yes."

You loved your boyfriend either way, but there was something about Joe with a little facial hair. Made him look extra relaxed. Extra soft. And it helped that you got to see his hands more when he had a little scruff going. Joe was a fidgeter, and when there was a little bit of beard to touch, that's just what he would do.

Smooth bare-cheeked Joe was cute.

But ungroomed bristle-cheeked Joe was just... better.

Joe moved the trimmer he was holding until it hovered right in front of your face. You used your forehead to push against it, scrunching up your nose as you did. Made Joe laugh.

"Later, let me... I want to enjoy this for a bit first," you let your fingers comb through the hair underneath his chin, backcombing it and then smoothing it back down again.

"Will have to be before dinner, though," Joe said, struggling to get the words out because your thumbs were pushing his top lip down as you stroked his little moustache.

So shiny.

The light caught it just right.

"Why?"

"You'll have wine,"

That made you huff out a laugh.

Yea, all right. You understood wanting to avoid putting a double edge safety razor into your hands when there was alcohol in your system.

You suggested sitting down to watch a new episode of the show you were watching together, then shave Joe after, and then have dinner together. That would give you at least forty minutes to touch his face.

"It's just hair," Joe said, pretending for a second that he didn't like how dramatic you were about it. "Grows back."

"If they want you clean-shaven, they're not just going to want it for tomorrow, are they?" you reasoned, plopping down onto the sofa, reaching for him with grabby hands until he sat down next to you.

"You're judging me for loving you," you cradled his full head in your arms.

"Not judging," Joe mumbled, unable to hide his grin. "But on a scale of one to ten of loving me, right now? Ten."

"Always a ten," you argued, using both hands to scratch at his cheeks, careful to not hurt him with your nails.

"No," Joe laughed, turning his head a little to look at you. "Without this?" he pointed at his own face, looked up at the ceiling to think for a second, and then concluded, "Like a six, maybe."

You gasped through a shocked laugh and bumped your shoulder into his. "Piss off, it's always a ten, you idiot,"

Joe scrunched his nose up at you through a smile and used the remote to find the right show and right episode to turn on.

You took a moment to look at him a second.

"Maybe right now it's just a little more. Like, a twelve," you leant over to press a kiss to his cheek that Joe accepted easily. "Just a little extra."

"You love me a twelve?" Joe pretended like the extra numbers added made his heart explode in his chest as the TV launched itself into a short recap from last week's episode.

"So healthy," you mused, "For us to measure love in numbers."

It prompted Joe to whisper numbers at you all throughout the forty minutes of jaw touches and chin scratches as you stared at the TV.

"Seventeen,"

"Twenty-one,"

"Twenty-eight,"

You had your full attention with what was happening on the screen, but then Joe breathed, "Ooh, fifty-four," and you looked to see him with his eyes closed, relishing under your touch. You'd just started circling a fingertip in the little area underneath his ear, sort of on the edge of his hair growth.

"That's a big jump,"

"Mhmm," Joe hummed, leaning into you a little more. When you moved fingers to rake through the hair just below his jaw, where it was longest and thickest, Joe protested, said, "No, fifty-three," and used his own hand to place yours back where he wanted it. "Fifty-four."

It was so stupidly cute, it made you break into a slow smile because you just adored him so fucking much. Made you snuggle up a little more, thinking Joe's a dork and you just wanted to eat him up.

Just when Joe started considering not shaving at all, and letting hair and make-up deal with it tomorrow morning, the episode ended and you smacked his leg as you got up.

"Okay, let's do this,"

You weren't the biggest fan of Joe's bare face, not compared to what you were looking at right now, but you were the biggest fan of getting to groom him.

You loved it when Joe let you scrunch mouse into his curls. Or when you'd get to cut a weird eyebrow hair that stuck out. The big task of shaving the beard off had you excited. Nervous, but excited.

Stood in front of the mirror, Joe got all the things out that you needed and you squealed as you gripped tightly onto the trimmer you were holding. You made eye-contact with Joe in the mirror, and your wild eyes made Joe pause a second.

"Your nerves are making me nervous,"

You gasped dramatically. "You don't trust me?"

Joe carried on, found the shaving cream to place down next to the sink.

"No, I trust you. I don't trust that you trust you,"

Okay, fair. Maybe you didn't need to look at Joe's trimmer like it was a weapon of mass destruction, and maybe you didn't need to hold it like it was one either.

You placed it down next to the tub of moisturizer that Joe placed down as the last thing that was needed.

"All right," Joe turned, ready to give instructions. You directed all your attention towards him, back straight, expression open, ready to convince Joe you were an excellent student. Valedictorian top of the class sort of thing. Joe put his hands on your shoulders and smiled through a shaky exhale which told you you were overdoing it.

You softened your face and turned actual serious for a moment. You saw how it immediately relaxed Joe a little more.

"So," Joe pointed, turning your attention to the counter. "Trimmer first. We're going to get it as short as possible before we go in with the real scary stuff," his fingers moved from the trimmer to the razor.

You nodded. Sounded easy enough.

You looked up and saw Joe looking at you in the mirror, finger still pointing at the razor, and fuck, you loved this man with a beard. Just the look of him made you scrunch your features and reach for his face to hold for one last time.

"You're so cute, are you scared?"

"I'm not scared if you're not scared," Joe cooed.

You let your eyes twinkle, fingers curling to scratch, "Can I play?"

Joe's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Play?!"

You shrugged through a smile, petting his beard then, soft touches.

"Yea, cut you all up, slit your throat,"

Joe grabbed onto your wrists in a faux panic, making you laugh.

"No, like, give you a stupid moustache first, like, full Hulk Hogan, and like– no, what if... so, no moustache, get rid of that, and then leave a stupid thin line along your jaw," as you said it, you let your fingers draw a line from his chin up to his ears.

Joe pursed his lips into a smile and slow blinked at you.

"Fifty-five."

Sap.

You made Joe sit on the edge of the bath and stood between his legs, trimmer in hand. You turned it on, the buzz of it strong in your palm, and were about to move it over when you suddenly pulled your hand back, like you'd forgotten something.

"Sorry, sorry, bye, bye babes," you leant in and kissed Joe on each cheek a couple of times, quick little pecks. "So sorry, you've got to go or he won't make any money and we won't be able to go out to nice restaurants again,"

"Stop," Joe laughed, squeezing your sides.

"Do you need to take your T-shirt off?"

"Oh, you want it off, do you?" Joe wiggled his eyebrows, nearly making you roll your eyes.

"Because we'll get hair everywhere, won't we?"

Before you'd even been able to finish the sentence, Joe'd already pulled his T-shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor right next to you.

Clicking the trimmer back on, you got to work.

Your tactic was, clean him up first. Get the neckbeard gone and get the stray hairs up higher on his cheeks. You were concentrated on your task, brow furrowed and bottom lip bitten into your mouth, and Joe loved that he just got to look at you up close for a little while. You had him stand up to be able to get underneath his chin easier, and then sat him back down when you needed to get his sideburns. Careful fingers placed his head in the position you needed it for the easiest access.

Joe thought of flinching and scream ow really loudly to scare you, but how could he? You looked fucking precious all focussed, so close to his face. Made him think of higher numbers as his scalp tingled with the attention.

When you thought you'd cleaned Joe up enough, made him look as symmetrical as you could, you stepped back and smiled.

"Look," you said, stepping back to make room for him to stand up and see himself in the mirror. "This is what you'd look like if you put effort in," it was a half-joke, commenting on Joe's laziness in beard upkeep.

Joe smiled, turned his head to view it from all angles and then asked, "Do you think it looks better like this? Or like before?"

"Before, this is awful, sit back down," you pushed him back as Joe laughed loudly, holding onto you for leverage as he got sat back down onto the bath ledge.

Time to get most of it off.

With a little less precision, you got back to work and with a little more confidence now, you trimmed all that needed trimming and let Joe hold you by the hips.

You stopped when there were just two really long weird sideburns left, the rest all gone. You clicked the trimmer off and kissed the tips of your fingers, exclaimed, "I'm an artist," pronouncing artist the French way.

Joe touched his cheeks and grimaced. "I don't even want to see this,"

"Can I take a picture?"

"Absolutely not,"

"I'm going to take a picture," you reached for your phone in your pocket.

"No you're fucking not, give me that," a little wrestle broke out where Joe grabbed onto your arm before trying to take your phone from you. It had you shouting, "The artist's canvas isn't meant to talk back!" and "It looks so good, babe!" which was so obviously a lie, you weren't able to say that without giggling.

In the end, you didn't take a picture. Instead trimmed the sideburns down too, and then it was time to get your hands dirty.

Whilst shaking the loose hair from his body, Joe instructed you on how to apply shaving cream, gave you tips on how to hold the razor, which direction to go, how hard to press down...

"You're talking to me like I've never shaved before,"

You'd argue that you'd put far more time into shaving various body parts than he had.

"Not around an Adam's apple, no, so be careful,"

"Listen," you started, slapping shaving cream to Joe's face, slightly offended now because trimming his beard had been so easy. "This isn't a vicious attack, this is a loving shave. If I can shave around my own ankle bones and– my vagina, my literal vagina, my labia, my–"

"All right, all right, all right," Joe held onto both your wrists because you were getting shaving cream a little too close to his eyes. "Just, be careful, is all I'm asking."

He straightened his back and got a quick kiss in before you could move back, getting the white foam onto your face as well.

All right.

Time to get serious now. You wiped your own face down, made sure you had all of Joe's beard covered, left some water in the sink so you could rinse the razor in between strokes and got into the right position.

Joe wrapped his arms around you this time and you felt his thighs squeeze together on either side of your legs.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

You honestly didn't understand what Joe seemed so nervous for. You had this. Joe helped by moving his mouth to the side and sticking his chin out to pull the skin tight, and it was easy. So easy. You didn't like how scratchy all of it sounded, and how Joe's arms tensed around you when you moved around his throat, but the double edge razor worked like a charm.

You were definitely going to use it on your legs in the shower later.

You spent way longer than you needed to on him. The fact that the hair wasn't very dark and a little difficult to see in some areas was a good excuse, but you didn't need it. Joe just let you work until you declared it finished and enjoyed the time it granted him to stare at your features. At everything that made you you.

He'd be unaware how he'd slowly move his face to look at you, and you had to move it back to face the side several times. He tried to hide his smile every time you did that, but it was pointless. You witnessed every single little muscle twitch in his face and loved him more for every single one of them.

"There," you finally said, patting his face with a towel and admiring your work as you moved around him to see him from all angles. "Done."

Joe smiled into the towel and before going in to touch it himself, or getting up to look at the results in the mirror, he cupped your face with both his hands and pulled you into a kiss.

"Does it look good?" Joe asked in between kisses.

"Looks amazing," you answered. "I did a great job." Joe saw how you eyed the bare skin.

"Yea? Not a six, but a ten like you said?"

You grinned and leant back down for another kiss.

"Not a ten." you whispered, fingers now sliding down the new smooth softness of his face. Not as satisfying as freshly shaved dolphin legs, but still nice. "A twelve still."

Joe was expecting you to tease and give him a stupid number, like a negative four, or whatever. Going up more made his stomach flutter. Made him pull you into him even more. Made him kiss you stupid, which was extra enjoyable, because Joe was all soft and smelled all fresh now.

"Love you a twelve too."

"Just a twelve? Was a fifty-five before..."

Joe tilted his head, squeezed an eye shut as he looked up at you and he just felt drunk with love, it was a little ridiculous.

"Fifty-six, then."

"No, I think twelve is the highest number you're allowed to love someone."

Joe let out a frustrated sigh, clearly joking. A what-the-fuck-do-you-want sort of thing that made you laugh loudly.

"All right, a twelve then." Joe stood up, kissed you once more before taking a look at himself in the mirror.

He looked normal.

Like he'd just shaved himself.

Except when he shaved himself, he didn't have a beaming girlfriend stood next to him, giddily awaiting his reaction and approval of her work.

"Looks amazing,"

"Yea?"

"Absolutely." Joe curled an arm around your shoulder to hook your neck and pull you in to kiss you on the cheek as you each looked at each other in the mirror.

"Twelve out of ten."

---

The Taglisted

@a-time-for-wolvess, @adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddie-joe-munson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @ohmeg, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thefemininemystiquee, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @yelyahcardella

taglist currently full, sorry

[sofasoap]

At the barbers

Pairing: John Price x F!Medic! Reader (call sign : Chameleon)

Summary: Part of @glitterypirateduck's John Price "O, Captain! Challenge" prompt used : 92: Giving Price a haircut and/or shave

Warning: T-M rating.

A/N: as mention previously in my Little secret series, Reader is from immigrant/non-Caucasian background. I know nothing about military. Thank you @mini-metal for giving me few suggestions and few ideas! *hugs*

Part of the Memory in a Fragrance series Part of Little secret series

Master list

“Love.”

“Hmmm?” 

“Would you mind giving me a hand here please?” John struggled as he tried to lift his injured arm to trim his beard. 

You sighed. “I am only good with surgical knives and scissors.” You took the trimmer off his hand and gently pushed his arm down. “Why not go to a barber?” 

“.... I am not quite comfortable with someone holding a blade to my neck.” 

“And you are comfortable with ME doing it?” you cocked an eyebrow. 

He hummed. “That’s because you are my wife. I trust you with all my life.” he pressed a kiss into your forehead. Wrapping his good arm around you as you sink into his embrace. 

“Well I am flattered by the great Captain Price trusting me with a knife to his throat.” you giggled, “But I really wouldn’t trust myself to trim my own dead ends off, let alone take a risk of destroying your luscious mutton chop.” You could almost feel him rolling his eyes as he mumbled something incoherent.

“How about one of the boys helping you?”

“I don’t trust them either.” he rumbled. “I trust them with my life.. But I wouldn’t trust them NOT destroying my beard. I already heard them plotting to shave my beard off in my sleep a few times.” 

You couldn't help but laugh. “ Well… We gotta think of something. Can’t let you leave your hair and beard go until your arms heal….” 

The strong leathery, lavender and cedarwood, faint hint of cigar smell hits you as soon as the two of you walk into the shop. The old radio playing some jazz music in the background, the old barber sitting on the wooden stool, reading the newspaper. It brings you distant memories. One of those rare happier moments when you were younger…. 

John finally agreed after a bit of coaxing from you to get his hair and beard done by the professional instead of you trying your luck. 

“I will go with you, how about that? And maybe I can learn a few tricks and tips from the professional?” you suggested. 

The barber waved to your husband to sit down on the chair after you explained to him what needs to be done. He was more than happy to teach you how to help John to maintain his pride and joy. 

Price couldn’t hold back his smile as he saw how focused and concentrated you are, pouting and wrinkling your nose as you listened to the barber explaining each step and how to use the tools. It helps to distract him from some strangers working so closely to him with sharp apparatus. The barber even handed over the scissors a few times for you to try out. 

“Stop moving, you are laughing too much.” you mumbled as you tried to trim the extra long strains around the edge of his jaw. “I don’t think you want me to accidentally take a chunk out of your beard, and have the boys laugh at you at work.” “I could always shave all my beard off.” “Oh so you changed your mind? You're definitely going to give them a heart attack and give me a heart break if you do that. So…  Never.” you laughed as you handed the scissors back to the barber. 

“You get to see Lieutenant John Price?” 

“As much as you were a handsome young man back then,I would rather keep that memory in the photos.” You pointed out as you sat back down, letting the professional get back to work. 

You observe your husband’s side profile with a faint smile on your face as the barber finishes off the rest of the trimming and hair cut. Even after years of marriage, you still have a hard time believing, this handsome man is your husband. 

The moment you set your eyes on him, you didn’t think you had much of a chance. The ranks, the personality, the background…. Everything. 

But he chose you. 

“I choose you? I should be thankful you chose me, my love.” he whispered into your ear one night after you confessed your insecurity. Nuzzling his face into your neck. “For bearing my temper…my imperfections.” 

“What do you think?” he looked at your eyes through the mirror as the barber dust the rest of the beard and hair off his shoulder, seeking for approval. 

Moving yourself to stand in front of him, you gently lay your hand on his face, tilting it to the left, and to the right, and finally, giving him a kiss on the lip, enjoying the smell of the aftershave.

“Handsome. And the best mutton chop I have ever seen.”

“You sound like you have seen quite a few in your life.” he chuckled as thank and paid the barber for his service.

“Maybe, maybe not.” you teased him as you wrap your arm around him. “But it’s definitely the mutton chop that always gives me a good time.” you could see his cheek redden under the beard. “Now, it’s not so scary is it? Having someone else to trim your beard for you.” 

“If you come with me again next time.” he squeezed your hand fondly.

“Gladly.”

“Oh what, you mean we missed out a chance of trying to shave his beard off?” “And You will get your mohawk shaved off too if you do that, MacTavish.” 

Thank you @glitterypirateduck for hosting another wonderful event!!!! *hug*

Tag list: @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@homicidal-slvt @mini-metal

@okayyadriana @deadbranch @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator @random0lover @devcica @nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @mmyrrhh

@mistydeyes, @groguspicklejar @roosterr

@gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot, @writeforfandoms @whydoilikewhump @tapioca-marzipan @alypink, @liyanahelena, @phoenixhalliwell

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Congrats on the follower milestone! Well deserved! Could I request a 19 with Happy Lowman?

Masterlist

What a Mess

Contains: Fluff

1.1K words

“Whoever said you can't buy Happiness forgot little puppies.” - Gene Hill

Happy wouldn't tell you where the puppy came from, he just came home one day covered in human blood and handed you a scruffy crying puppy with a grunt. After you had washed the puppy and given it some boiled chicken, he gave you a Happy style explanation about how he "found" the dog when the SONs went to visit a drug dealer.

Two days later, Juice would tell you the truth. The drug dealer had bought the puppy early that day and just gave it to Happy when he decided it was too much work. The blood came later when Happy decided that giving a dog to strangers with guns was unforgivable.

She got her name the first night when she made her way between you and Happy as you settled into bed and flopped into your pillow. Happy turned into a total dog dad, carrying her everywhere because she hadn't got her shots yet and he didn't want her to get sick.

It soon became clear that Mellow was some kind of horse because she was putting on a pound a week and the more she ate, the more she wanted. Which led you to where you were now, looking out at a kitchen covered in roast beef scraps while she wagged her tail at you, "Did your daddy put the roast too close to the edge of the bench?"

Her tail wagged and she let out a yip as she wagged her way over to you, "I hope you like that because that piece of meat was very pricy." All Mellow did in response was lick your hand, "I'm not mad at you, you're just being a dog, but your daddy's in the poo."

"Why am I in the poo?" You turned around as Mellowed rushed to greet Happy.

"Because I asked you to put the roast in the middle of the counter when you took it out and you didn't so someone ate half of it." She let out another yip, and Happy bent down to scratch her ear while her tongue lolled from her mouth, "Hap, we pay really good money for her to have good nutrition. She can't be eating stuff off our table unless we let her."

He sighed, "I know. I meant to push it further, but she took her ball to the door and I wanted to play outside with her. I forgot where I left it."

You nodded, "That's alright, there was nothing in it that could have hurt her so no harm done. How about you clean up here while I give her a bath and then you can go and get us some takeout?"

Happy nodded, "That's fair."

You bent down and tapped your legs and Mellow came bounding over to you, "You wanna have a bath, you smelly girl?" Her tail waged and she placed your growing paws on your legs as her whole body wagged with her tail, "I'll take that as a yes."

She jumped off you and raced towards the tub and you sighed as Happy followed you, "Yes you can help but after that I want to kitchen spotless."

Happy smiled, "Hell yeah."

Mellow looked from you to Happy and with a wave of your hand, she was leaping into the tub joyfully. Happy raced over to the cupboard and returned with her brush, the nail trimmers and a bag, "What's that Hap?"

"I got her some soap." He opened the back and pulled out two large bottles with paw prints on them.

Your eyes grew wide when you realised what he had done, "Hap, that stuff is for show dogs, it's thirty dollars a bottle."

He shrugged, "She should only have the best."

You shook your head, "She already gets the best Happy, I get her shampoo and conditioner at the vet."

"Well this isn't shampoo and conditioner, it's prewash and after bath fur oil." He held up a finger and reached into the bag again, "I also go her paw balm."

You sighed, "Alright, just tell me how to use it once I've brushed her and done her claws."

Happy smiled, "It's easy, the lady at the store said it would make her coat nice."

You nodded, "I know Hap." Mellow could barely contain her joy as you brushed her fur and she slammed her growing feet into your palm when it was time to trim her nails.

"She's so well trained." Happy sounded so proud.

You shook your head, "Wait until the water turns on, she's just going to want to play." Sure enough, she was sliding around the bath with suds flying everywhere when it was time to wash her, Happy laughing as her floppy jowls went in every direction.

She yipped happily and hopped out of the bath when the hair drier came out and her tail flicked water everywhere when the warm air hit her skin, "She is the weirdest dog on earth, I've never met a dog that likes all parts of getting a bath."

Mellow stayed with you while you cleaned the bathroom and Happy headed to clean the kitchen, and she watched him on the couch as he mopped up all the mess, "She had fun here."

You nodded, "Yes she did."

Once everything was cleaned up, Happy walked over to you and kissed your temple, the Mellow's forehead, before heading out to get dinner, "You want anything special?"

You shrugged, "You know what I like."

"Yeah, I do."

****

Happy served you dinner, making sure that Mellow was occupied with a toy so you could eat without her feeling left out, even though you both knew she wouldn't beg for anything.

"I'm sorry about the roast. I know how hard you worked on it." He sounded sorry too.

You smiled softly, "I know, she's a puppy, there's no harm done." You pointed to the fridge, "Plus, you brought me cake, all is forgiven."

Happy looked at Mellow and smiled, "Do you think she knows how much we love her?"

You nodded, "I do. I mean, I don't love her as much when she pushes me off the bed but I love her with all my heart the rest of the time."

The side of Happy's lips ticked up in a smirk, "That reminds me, we're going mattress shopping on the weekend. I know a guy who can get us one of those huge orgy beds."

Your eyebrows wrinkled, "Those are big enough for more than two people and a great dane, what are you thinking Hap?"

"Well, you know how much Mel likes cats right?" You nodded, she had to say hello to every cat she saw, "I thought we could get a kitten, and then I read that two was better than one. I figure if we have a bed big enough, you won't say no."

You sighed, "I'm not going to say no anyway, you know how much I love cats."

Happy smiled, "I knew you'd say yes."

You shook your head, "You're lucky I love you."

He reached across the table and took your hand, "I love you too y/n."

Fin

@darqchilddaydreamz

[shiyorin]

I was quite surprised when someone sent me a warhammer request on marshmallow, but here we go.

#Modern au. You are a designer who oftens works from home.

#Just a normal morning with primarchs

#Menu: Imperial Secundus

#I promise it only has romcom

Lion El’Jonson

Lion's eyes fluttered open. The alarm blared, jarring him from a dreamless sleep. He groggily fumbled along the nightstand, groping in vain until his palm struck the clock itself, knocking it to the floor. Finally, blessed silence.

He rolled over with a grunt, hugging the blanket tighter and started to drift back under. But a relentless pounding on his door shattered the tranquil haze.

"Lion!! Wake up!! You told me to wake you up early today!" came your insistent voice from the door.

Ugh, did he say that? Of course, he must have, you never would have disturbed his rest otherwise. Lion pulled the covers over his head, letting out a petulant growl. He'd finally gotten some leave time, intended to sleep it away after months of grueling deployments. But apparently obligation called once more.

There was an important PR ceremony today, some ribbons and handshakes to help soothe the civvie politicians. A necessary, but not how he wished to spend his brief repose. For a treacherous moment, the stubborn soldier considered ignoring your wake-up call.

But no. You would only escalate your reminders, and he cringed at the thought of what inventive method you might employ next time. Best to acquiesce... for now.

Lion threw off the sheets with a resigned sigh and swung his feet to the floor. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he padded into the bathroom, glaring at the haggard reflection in the mirror. His beard had grown considerably during his absence, an unruly rug framing the sharp angles of his jaw and cheeks.

He grabbed his trimmer and set to taming the wilderness, meticulously shaping it back into a crisp military cut. Freshly groomed, he tugs on the crisp dress uniform laid out the prior evening. Drab olive tones that do nothing for tired but befit the solemn occasion.

One last lingering look in the mirror confirms his stone-faced professionalism. No one would ever suspect the churning sea of doubts and regrets that dwell behind those cold eyes.

With a resigned sigh, he steps out into the living room. Immediately he's greeted by an unexpectedly enticing sight, you lounging on the sofa in minimal loungewear.

You were sprawled on one end of the sofa, some oversize tee and cotton shorts clinging to your languid form. A tablet danced in your delicate fingers, your face a mask of fierce concentration for whatever design you worked on. Lion couldn't help his treacherous eyes from tracing your curves, taking in expanse of naked legs on a sumptuous display.

On impulse, he crept closer behind your perch, locking onto that elegant neck arching so invitingly. He bent low, baring his teeth ever so slightly as a humid breath rolled across your flesh...

"What are you doing?!" 

You flinched bodily, whipping around with wide eyes. Lion recoiled slightly, caught like a schoolboy playing mischief. But your shocked expression melted into an exasperated look as he feigned innocence with lofty indifference.

"Nothing."

Lion cleared his throat.

"You know, you could go outside once in a while. A little sun might be beneficial."

You shot him an icy scowl over the edge of your screen before shrugging elaborately. "I get plenty of Vitamin D, thank you."

He snorted inwardly at the subtle double entendre. Of course you did. Drawing near with an exaggerated sigh, Lion jerked his chin down in clear expectation. You dutifully rose without comment and began smartly knotting his tie, making a few last tidy adjustments before stepping back to appraise your work.

Your bright eyes raked over his crisply-attired form, sparkling with unreadable thoughts before giving a slight nod of approval. "Very handsome. I'm sure they will like it."

"If only..." Lion muttered "I'll be counting the hours until I get cut loose from these."

His gaze subconsciously drifted to the framed awards and photos lining the shelves, stark reminders of his true calling, a life of struggle and valor amidst the echoing guns. And here, he felt like a caged beast, bored, aimless and shackled.

"Speaking of eating..." He turned back to you "What say we go out for a nice steak dinner tonight? I should be done with this whole circus by mid afternoon."

You cocked one shapely eyebrow, unmistakably intrigued. "A prime rib does sound tempting... and you're paying of course?"

"Better than tofu and kale, right?" Lion's eyes crinkled at the corners, indulging his rare playful side. "We could even get a nice bottle of Cabernet to go with it." 

You said with a smirk "Wait... Is this a date, sir?"

A delicate flush colored his cheeks for just a moment as he turned away dismissively. "Well, I'd say it's just dinner."

You chuckled "Alright sir, it's time to go.."

He shot you an incredulous look as you give him a wink.

"As if you're one to lecture anyone on getting out more..." He muttered under his breath once the door clicked shut.

But a smile played across his lips as he grabbed his keys and cover, already counting down the hours himself.

Sanguinius

Sanguinius slowly peels open his eyes as the first rays of dawn filter through the bedroom window.

Despite being a morning person in theory, his body protests at the early hour, muscles tight and eyelids heavy from a restless sleep. He drags himself out of the tangled sheets, padding wearily to the bathroom.

The hot shower does little to shake the lingering weariness. It clings to him like cobwebs as he towels off and slips into a plush silk robe, a small indulgence. He catches a glimpse of himself in the foggy mirror, pausing for a beat. His chiseled features and athletic physique betray no hint of the pain that gnaws at his insides lately.

Pushing those nagging thoughts aside for now, Sanguinius drifts out to the kitchen. He uncorks a deep Cabernet Sauvignon decanter to pour himself a generous glassful. Not exactly the most typical breakfast beverage, but he's long past caring about societal conventions.

When he turns to join you at the dinette table, he's greeted by the sight of his disheveled roommate cradle-hugging a steaming coffee mug. You're barely awake yourself, straggles of hair framing your bleary eyes. Despite your almost comical morning disarray, you're still the most gorgeous thing Sanguinius has ever seen.

Instinctively he opens his arms for an embrace, a silent good morning routine. You merely stare at him through slitted lids before downing the last of your coffee. Then, with neither word nor warning, you thrust the empty cup into his hands and turn to go.

Sanguinius is left bemused for only a heartbeat before chuckling softly. He rinses the mug out, refilling it with the last of the coffee and offering the fresh cup which you accept with a grateful nod. You vanish into the living room, curled up on the sofa mere moments later. Your bright LED monitor casts a blue glow across those striking, angular features, already immersed in rendering textures for another character model no doubt.

Padding over, Sanguinius gingerly retrieves his portfolio from beside the armchair. He sinks back into the plush cushions, leafing through page after page of Renaissance and Baroque masterpieces. Yet he can't seem to focus on the brushwork or chiaroscuro artistry today.

He finds his gaze drifting from the pages time and again, stealing glances at the beauty, studying the delicate shape of your lips, the color of your eyes, the effortless fluidity with which your graceful fingers fly across the keyboard.

"Don't stare at your phone and eat at the same time," He chides warmly as you start scrolling through work emails with one hand. "You'll choke."

"Fair point, from the man sipping wine at 7 AM."

You arches one shapely eyebrow but doesn't deign to reply further. Sanguinius drains his own goblet and rises to clean up. He takes his time, puttering about the loft tidying this and straightening that, all while keeping you in his sights through stolen glimpses.

Once finished with his little chores, he finds himself drifting over to your place without even thinking about it. You don't seem to notice or mind as he leans over the back of the sofa, studying your latest creation in-progress.

"Impressive," Sanguinius murmurs, genuinely awestruck by the master-level craftsmanship. "Truly remarkable."

You pause for a beat, gracing him with the faintest of smiles before turning back to the grindstone, lost in your creative zone once again. He remains looming over you for a long moment, close enough to catch the faint scent of your hair's jasmine essence and feel the soft warmth of your body heat.

Then, finally, Sanguinius straightens up with a heavy, wistful sigh. He pads across to collect his folio and jacket from the armchair.

"Well then, I should get going. I've got a gallery walk-through this afternoon for the new exhibition."

On impulse he leans down, throwing his arms around your shoulders to pull you into a tight embrace from behind. You stiffens for the briefest heartbeat before your body seems to melt and settle into him. He nuzzles his nose into your fragrant tresses for one fleeting, delicious breath.

"I'll see you this evening."

*****

Sanguinius sighs heavily, doing his best to focus on the massive abstract canvases arrayed before him. But despite the confrontational slashes of color and impassioned brush strokes, his mind keeps wandering.

Wandering to thoughts of your legs and hair as wild and as unkempt as the paintings themselves. To the smirking cupid's bow of full lips perpetually pursed in sardonic amusement at his romanticized notions.

A shiver runs down Sanguinius' spine as he recalls their very first encounter in vivid detail...

Perhaps today he might finally dare to put brush to canvas, crafting the masterpiece that's been swirling in his mind for months now. 

It may very well be the only art that truly matters in this life.

Roboute Guilliman

The pre-dawn stillness hung heavy over the apartment as Roboute Guilliman stirred awake. His body clock was precisely punctual, never requiring an alarm. But it had become a morning ritual nonetheless.

Rolling over, he lay motionless in the darkness, his soft breathing was the only sound. Exactly four minutes before the jarring beep of the alarm was due, Guilliman's hand shot out and silenced it. 

With a quiet sigh, the politician slipped from the bedsheets, feet touching down soundlessly on the carpet. As the sheets were tucked with crisp military corners, he pulled the curtain across the bedroom before retreating.

Down the hallway, he rapped his knuckles firmly on your bedroom door in passing. Just a simple courtesy to avoid catching you if you happened to be awake and roaming.

A low grumbling seeped out from behind the door. Apparently his roommate was still very much entombed in slumber at this hour.  

He shook his head with a sigh as he made for the apartment's main living area. You could easily sleep till noon if permitted. But you needed to get on a decent schedule, your deadline for that game company's new character model was rapidly approaching.

Guilliman shrugged into his robe and settled into his daily routine. First a pot of strong coffee set to brew while he goes out to the lobby for the morning paper. The brisk chill of the morning air roused his senses fully. 

As the newscasters on the television in the living room prattled about yesterday's legislative victories and this morning's planned protests, Guilliman flipped through the paper's headlines. A frown creased his brow as his eyes scanned snippets:

*...divisive new social policies expected to be blocked yet again as party ties remain locked in stalemate...*

*...public trust in elected officials is at all time low amidst deluge of corruption scandals...*

He shook his head with a weary sigh. The political realities of governance had proven far more vexing than any military campaign ever faced back in his service days. Compromise and incremental change seemed the agonizing order of the day, no matter how dire the situation.

The timer's shrill beep indicated the coffee was ready. Muscle memory took over as Guilliman retrieved the carafe, split the hot brew into two mugs, then poured in the respective milk and sugars to each's preferred taste.

Almost on cue, a sleep-tousled you shuffled into the dining room with a jaw-cracking yawn. Your silk robe hung open, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the matching negligee beneath. 

"Mmmmmorning..." you mumbled groggily, bare feet padding across the linoleum.

Guilliman turned at the exact moment you wrapped your lithe arms around his midsection from behind with a contented sigh. Your cheek nuzzled against the flat planes of his back as he stiffened self-consciously.

"What's for breakfast, hmm?" Your voice was blissfully sleepy, still thick with half-dreams and warmth.

Clearing his throat, Guilliman gestured to the set table with a prim nod. "Belgian waffles and seasonal fresh fruit compote, as requested. With the coffee you prefer."

Your answering hum of delight vibrated through his robe pleasantly. "Love you."

Guilliman felt his face grow warm as you giggled, returning to slather the unappetizing bread-slab with sugary condiments. Best to ignore such needling - especially when you have a point. He couldn't help but spoil you.

… Besides, how many other politicians were roomies with a character model designer? He couldn't be too harsh.

Before he could react further, you released your lingering embrace and flopped bonelessly into your seat. Guilliman blinked, momentarily flushed, before joining you at their customary places across the small table.

They ate in a relaxed quiet broken only by the newscasters' prattling drone. Guilliman couldn't help noticing the elegant,delicate way your lips pursed around each forkful...

A loud slam from their neighbor's door shattered the reverie, making them both jump slightly. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a shake of his head. "Honestly, can people not control themselves for five minutes..."

You reached over to give his clenched fist a reassuring squeeze. "Any luck with the proposed housing reforms? I saw it was on the docket again this week..."

Swallowing hard, he mustered a tight smile. "Well, progress remains...incremental." His eyes flicked to the  mobs of irate citizens wielding placards and crude banners on television screens. "The special interests dig their heels in deeper every time."

"Just give it time." Your tone was soothing even through your usual wry inflection. You sipped your coffee thoughtfully, ruby lips leaving a perfect imprint on the porcelain mug. "They're going to feel awfully silly someday for not listening to you."

"I certainly hope--"

Guilliman glanced down at the time on his portable cogitator, eyes widening. "Blast! I'd best get moving if I'm on time for the morning session."

He rose swiftly, tucking in his chair and gathering the dishes in one practiced movement as you watched with bemused detachment. Within moments he was already depositing the load in the sonic dishwasher, suit cuffs neatly buttoned. 

At the door, he hesitated with one hand on the knob. Glancing back, Guilliman called over his shoulder, "I may be late this evening. There are deliberations scheduled on--"

"I know, I know." You waved him off with a little smile, one foot tucked under your thigh as you sipped your coffee. "More stuffy old men yelling and accomplishing nothing, as usual."

Lips pursing tightly, Guilliman simply grunted before slipping out into the corridor. Your teasing was affectionate but still stung just a bit.

Carefully straightening the crisp lapels of his suit, Guilliman cleared his throat. "Do try and not bury yourself in laptop too deeply today, yes? Your health is as important as any project deadline."

You waved an airy hand, taking an uncouth slurp of your coffee. "Yeah yeah, mom, I know the drill. Now get going before you're late for all your super important senatorial meetings."

Pausing at the door for one final longing look at that adorably disheveled figure, Guilliman repressed a smile. He truly was a lucky man, even if his roommate could be his pain at times.

As the oaken portal swung closed and his strides carried him off to another long, grueling day of civic responsibilities, the statesman couldn't help but look forward to returning home this evening.

[cookie-crumblr]

GN!READER x 3 YANDERE OC’s

thinking about how Enix, Lucy and Issac would be the first three of my OC’s to cut our legs off if we disobeyed them or tried to run away an i MMMMMMMMMM

CW: GN! Reader, no body descriptions for reader, dismemberment of reader, reader referred to as they/them, murder, drugging, vomit(non descriptive dw), spoilers for lucky, permanent body mutilation, non con, p in whatever hole you have, somno(in Enix’s part), reader has hair in lucy’s part mentioned (not described) Not proof read!

!!MINORS DNI!!

Enix~

When you first awoke in shackles, you couldn’t imagine staying! this guy that you had once thought was just a shy nerd, turning out to be a psychopath to this extent!? You can’t!

You think of a plan to escape as soon as you can.

He let you loose after a while. you promised you’d be good, schmoozed up to him too, pretending nothing had changed. And he believed you.

You ran the first chance you got. A neighbor saw you running in your underwear and hurried you inside. You asked to call the police, she rushed to find her phone.

But too soon after, Enix busts through her front door.

He has a pair of hedge trimmers in his hand… You tried to run but you were frozen solid watching him beat the old woman to death with them. You tried to tear yourself away from the gorey scene unfolding, you tried to run, but he caught you.

“Butterflyyyy~ Looks like Ill have to rip off your wings after all…” He holds you tightly in his grasp, his tall body fully encasing you. “I really didn’t want to”

He injects you with something as he’s holding you, and you feel your body grow suddenly so heavy and your vision fades.

Now he’s looking over your precious, sleeping form, you are even easier to watch and protect! and he can’t help but love how dependent you’ll be on him from now on.

His dick throbs.

You’re so perfect, even just sleeping under anesthesia. He lifts your stumps and gently feels his work… He shouldn’t. He stops himself. Not yet anyway, he wouldn’t want to injure you while you’re in a serious recovery phase.

But soon, he’ll definitely put you back under to fully enjoy what he’s done.

Upon waking you feel terrified… Something is so very wrong! you can’t move your legs! You shoot up into a sitting position, and see the reason…

You vomit over the edge of the bed.

Your legs are gone.

(He definitely mounts them on the wall in the bedroom with a little plaque and everything like they’re one of his prized specimens)

Lucy~

You’ve disobeyed her too many times recently, you’ve ran and hid yourself inside the forbidden red doored room.

You didn’t anticipate how obsessed with you she turned out to be.

The room is completely filled in every corner with something that has to do with you. Pictures and posters of you cover the walls, they look professionally taken. The shelves are filled with photo albums, journals detailing your days and old documents. Some have your thrown out med bottles, vials of what you can only assume is cum in some and blood in the others…. You shiver. You don’t want to keep looking, but it’s all around you.

There’s what looks like some kind of Alter at the front and center of the room.

You find it hard to breathe in here…

You think you might get sick if you stay too long.

There are two windows that don’t have screens on either side of the alter. You dash to one of them and try it, luckily, it slides right open.

“Where are they!?” She screeches. You hear her heels clicking against the wood down the hall. “Find them.”

You escape down a trellis covered in blue morning glories, and run into the gardens.

All too soon you’re being tackled to the grass, as one of Lucy’s guards finds you.

Lucy walks out next, taking her time to get to you, building up even more of your tremendous anxiety. Your heart is thumping in your throat, you can see each beat pulsing in your vision. You’ve never seen her so mad!

The guard holds you down obediently.

She’s got an axe.

“You don’t need both of your legs, right Y/N?” She stands over you.

“Wh-what??”

“Hold them still.” She says to the guard.

“Lu-Lucy!?”

She brings down the axe onto your thigh, a harsh, heavy pain bursts through you and you scream out. Your bone definitely snapped but she wasn’t strong enough to take off your leg in one clean hit….

She brings it down a second time, missing the same spot and just causing you more blinding pain, you scream until you’re coughing and almost vomiting.

“LUCY!!! STOP!!!!” You beg and plead but she looks wildly ecstatic as she brutally mutilates your body.

Again the axe comes down finally separating your leg from your body. the pain is immense and your blood soaks the garden bed. You’re so dizzy and you feel sick, you’re writhing and sobbing just glad the worst is over.

“Call the doctor. And a taxidermist.” She licks your blood off of the axe before she throws it and picks up her dress instead, and steps over you. Her body falls over yours, cradling your face in her arms as she now sits on your midsection. You’re fading in and out of consciousness and weakly try to do anything, but the pain is overwhelming.

“Aw… You’re so cute Y/N, I can’t stay mad at you~!” She pets you and wipes some sweat slicked hair off of your forehead.

Her soft lips come down to yours, you barely register the sensation. As you’re fading you feel her rocking her hips on you.

(She def keeps them in her worship room)

Issac~

“This is necessary, Y/N!”

“NO ISSAC PLEASE!!!!!” You threaten to rip your vocal cords with how loud you’re screaming!

He brings the hacksaw to your thigh, right under your cheek. You feel the rough metal touch you and flail wildly.

You’re on your stomach so you thankfully don’t have to watch…

“PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!” You repeat over and over, snot and tears staining your face.

“I hate to do this to you i swear! But you’ve made me! we told you not to run!!”

“I WONT I WONT I SWEAR I WONT!!!”

“We already gave you that chance.” He states coldly.

The metal touches your flesh once more, but this time he slides it across with pressure enough to cut right down to your bone. You feel the vibrations against the solid part of your body and shiver. The pain is intense and you don’t recognize the voice coming out of you anymore.

You writhe and curl into yourself against the concrete while he pushes the saw back over you, and then again.

The pain doesn’t stop when he stops cutting.

It’s the most intense thing you’ve ever felt.

You’re biting your lip and groaning and wailing when he puts it in you.

“What!!” You cant wrap your head around what’s happening! He’s entering you, while your bleeding out from your thigh!

He spreads your legs wider, you hear him sloshing around in the puddle of your blood.

He fully shoves himself inside you without regard, he can’t help himself every time that you’re completely at his mercy.

You’re all out of wailing at this point, you’re throat is too dry and torn. Your vision is filling with black spots and you feel terrified. All you feel is the throbbing numbness of where your leg used to be, and his huge dick slowly stroking your insides.

You feel the familiar sweat inducing sensation of a saw blade against your other thigh now, You can’t even scream anymore or beg him to stop, you just feel your skin start to be torn open all over again and pass out.

He cums inside you and it spills out around his length mixing into your blood puddle.

[lunar-years]

For the first sentence of a fic thing:

The first time Roy thinks nothing of it; the second he thinks it a coincidence – but the third time, and catching the studied nonchalance on Jamie and Keeley’s faces, he begins to grow suspicious.

The first time Roy thinks nothing of it; the second he thinks it a coincidence – but the third time, and catching the studied nonchalance on Jamie and Keeley’s faces, he begins to grow suspicious. "And neither of you have seen it?" he repeats slowly, staring at each of them in turn with his most intense, patented glare, waiting for one of them to break.

Jamie's face remains completely stoic--impressive, actually. Usually he's first to crack. Keeley shrugs innocently and murmurs, "Guess you must've misplaced it again, babe...."

Roy snorts. Yeah. He'd believed that the first time, when he'd found it buried on Jamie's shelf buried amongst his many, many hair products. Roy must've confused the shelves one night. His eyesight is shit in the dark, after all. Then when he next went to use it, the thing was fucking broken, so okay. Shit happened. Order another, no big deal.

This time, though, the trimmer was brand-fucking-new. And he knows exactly where he placed it once he'd removed it from the packaging. "You know that this is important, right?" he growls. "I've got be at the club in like two hours. Looking professional."

He glances past their heads to catch a sight of himself in the mirror. He meant to get a real haircut, but after a few rounds of putting it off, it's gotten long enough now for the curls to really be coming back, in desperate need of a trim, and his beard looks utterly unruly to match. Altogether, he looks like he's an aspiring caveman instead of the fresh new manager of a Premier League team.

"Your beautiful curls aren't unprofessional," Keeley says crisply, arms crossed and looking all put out like he's offended her talking about his own damn hair. Jesus Christ. "Actually, Jamie found--"

Jamie is instantly at his side, holding out a bottle of curl shampoo. "Bit of this to reduce the frizz, lad, and some beard oil to tame you up a bit in the front...very professional, that. And if it happens to make you look dead sexy, too, well--" He shrugs and exchanges a look with Keeley, who nods encouragingly like he's really selling it. They're both ridiculous.

Roy rolls his eyes. "So you mean to tell me I haven't been able to shave in days because my trimmer keeps disappearing mysteriously, and Jamie just so happened to go shopping for fucking..." he takes the bottle Jamie's holding, "curl-defining shampoo in that same timeframe? By total coincidence?"

"Exactly!" Keeley says cheerfully.

"You know, two hours gives us plenty of time to try it out," Jamie adds nonchalantly, waving the shampoo. His eyes are fucking sparkling. He's gorgeous. He's always so fucking gorgeous. "Probably best if Keeley and I help you out. Gotta really massage it in to get the full effect. It will take all three of us. We should shower together!"

Keeley's heads bobs up and down enthusiastically.

"And my trimmer is--?"

"Oh hush," Keeley says, edging closer, "You can search for that later."

"...or not!" Jamie adds.

Yeah, he thinks, letting Keeley's deft hands work at tugging his shirt over his head. Or fucking not.

[artingabout]

Boromir's bracers from The Fellowship of the Ring

Behind the scenes:

This was my first venture into real leatherworking so there are a lot of basics included in the materials list, but now that I have them, I won't run out for a while :)

My materials:

2mm thick scrap leather

a full basic leatherworking tool kit including metal thimble, skiving knife, edge-trimmers, diamond punches and burnishing tools

leather needles

waxed thread

swivel knife for cutting the pattern in

rubber mallet

cutting boards

leather dye and scrap cloth for applying it

sewing pony

contact adhesive

four buckles

nickel studs

I'd made the bracers before, 10 years ago, for a costume party but had made them out of craft foam because lack of time/space/money for leather-working.

Since I had some time to kill over the holidays, I decided it was time to give things a go. First stage was redrawing my original pattern then cutting the leather to shape/size:

Next up was marking out the patterns onto the main body of the leather. Lessons have been learned. I foolishly decided to freehand it. It still looks nice, but now I know how I could have done it better.

Once both sets of patterns were down, I tooled the leather with the swivel knife. Learned very quickly that I should have got a slightly thicker leather to make the pattern stand out more, but for a first attempt, very happy.

Punched the main stitching holes and then did the staining to get the red-brown colouring. Took a couple of layers and several attempts to get to the right and consistent shade.

Once the dye dried overnight, burnished the edges of the smaller piece to make them smooth and shiny, then attached the two sections together with contact adhesive and started the stitching (ow my fingies)

The trickiest part of the whole thing was adding the buckles and trying to work out the best length for both of them, taking into account that the bracers are meant to be worn on top of several layers, including a quilted arm-guard.

Thankfully, I found a lovely batch of buckles that also had the pin on a separate rod from the rod that the buckle loop went around, which simplified putting it all together. I've done buckles before, but never with material this thick.

Once the straps were on, fastened with stud and stitching, it was just a matter of giving the entire thing a polish with beeswax to give it a smooth sheen all over and then adding the silver details. I did attempt foil, but it ended badly, so I switched to silver paint instead.

My Boromir-by-installments is coming together, little by little :)

[dollsahoy]

I made another word art collage to surprise someone, and this time I wanted to try making the background from advertising/mail collage, too.

I have one of those little sliding blade paper trimmers, like this

which is the best thing I've found for cutting genuinely straight edges, since I can't always keep control of an Xacto along a ruler. I inherited this paper trimmer, along with a much larger and more elaborate rotary blade trimmer that seems kind of excessive to use, so I don't 😅

I put a thin coat of spray glue on some plain paper (left over from printing postage) and carefully stuck the cut strips to that, squaring up the edges after it was all attached.

I used a glue stick to coat the backs of the words, and they went smoothly onto this background.

I'm just old enough, and from a small enough town, that glue sticks were not at all a part of my elementary school years, so that's something--along with spray glue--that I had to learn how to use as an adult.

(I grew up using rubber cement, even into college graphic design courses. Glue sticks are so much nicer. Those college graphic design courses, incidentally, had us buy and use spray glue, but never taught us how, so that's something I had to learn on my own, which happened too much later to be of any use in those classes. I really like it now that I know how to use it, but it was a sticky nightmare in college.)

I'll share the finished piece once the friend receives it, if anyone's interested 🐝