#especially the shading thought i still don't know what I'm doing

[fatuismooches]

Oml I just saw your tag on the Dadtorre with identical son post (same anon as last time here! Thank you for the kind words :3) if Traveller and Paimon meet the son it's going to be so funny but confusing for both parties 😭 It's a jumpscare!

The Traveller is in Snezhnaya, exploring the place, walking through yet another quaint scenery. Then they see a glimpse of a blury blue in the distance, a shade of blue they know all too well.

"Wait, Traveller - was that...?" Paimon whispers to her companion warily. "Uh, you saw that too right? That looked like—!" She gasps, her tiny hands cupping her mouth as she frantically whispers. "Do you think he saw us?!"

The Traveller gestures for Paimon, gaze hardening. "Get behind me."

They tail the all too familiar shadow. He may be wearing a heavy cloak to stave off the frigid heart of the Tsarista, but they would recognise that hair anywhere... It's shorter than last time, but this is not the first they dealt with a segment. The Doctor is stalking the village, what could he be up to?

It's a small village, far from the capital. What if he's here to exploit the vulnerable? There's so many ill and elderly residents here, it won't take much to station a lab here in the guise of a clinic, he would have his test subjects.

They have to stop him.

They continue to follow, but slowly, doubt starts to creep in.

What is Dottore doing? He's just... he's window shopping?

Sure enough, this familiar shadow is simply strolling through the streets without a hint of hurry, out of character for a man who does not waste time. Admiring the scenery and occasionally stopping. That's when the anxiety starts to build. Is this a trap? It must be.

If it is a trap he'd laid. They will bite - only to get closer to him.

They follow until the figure is in an isolated part of the settlement. The cloaked man is looking side to side, head turning this way and that. Not the most subtle way to check for your reinforcements, but whatever. They raise their sword—

Dottore turns around, an unfamiliar gleam in his eyes. A shine that struck the Traveller as though a snake had reared its head and bit with venom to paralyse. Not one of deep seeping crimson of blood. Kind, gentle eyes - the red of a comforting hearth, the red of a sunrise.

"Ah! Perfect, there's someone else here!" 'Dottore' chuckles awkwardly. "Uh... I'm lost? Can you help me out? It looks like you know your way around here— wait, isn't that outfit a little too cold?"

What.

What is this.

Paimon yells this sentiment for them: "Huh?!"

(Dottore's son snuck out for a little outing. He inadvertently pulled the same headache of a stunt Dottore's lover had done ages ago: sneaking off when bored. Said father is tearing Snezhnaya through looking for his boy. It's only a matter of time before the Harbinger finds his son. He lacks the rigour to cover up his tracks.)

Meeting a Harbinger so quickly into their visit to Snezhnaya was not on the Traveler's agenda. Especially since they snuck into the nation without anyone knowing. But how could they see those familiar blue locks and not do anything about it? Sure, it wasn't the best idea, considering how they planned to hide out a bit more, not to mention there was still a wide gap in strength, but they couldn't pass up the opportunity. At the very least, they don't think the scientist would kill them. There seems to be a greater plan, one beyond what they know.

Of course, the Traveler's immediate thought is that the blue-haired man is up to no good. Perhaps immediately thinking the worst seemed a bit harsh, but this was the Doctor. What else would they think, especially after what happened in Sumeru? They had to be wary and cautious - there was no such thing as too much of it when dealing with him. And cautious they are, carefully stalking behind, not a noise made even in the crunching snow.

And so they cautiously watch with narrowed eyes as the "Harbinger"... casually strolls by numerous stores? Looking at outfits that certainly don't fit his style, peeking through the glass of some local restaurants. For some reason, civilians don't seem to bat much of an eye at his presence either. It's strange. Very strange. Unfortunately, the Traveler and Paimon still can't get a good look at the man's face, but they're positive it has to be Dottore. Who else has such fluffy blue hair? Are they overthinking it? Is he pretending? There are always so many questions to deal with when it comes to the Doctor.

Until they realize it's not the Doctor.

The man in front of them bears a striking resemblance to the Harbinger, but he simply couldn't be, not even a segment. A small smile that wasn't cocky, sweet eyes that could envelop another in a warm embrace if it came to that. These features cannot belong to a man such as Dottore. The laugh and concern for the blonde was also something that couldn't be an act. After getting over their little surprise, they'd be an idiot not to take advantage of this outcome. Perhaps they could get some information... of course, they only end up more confused when they find out the truth.

(You, while also concerned for your son, know he's a capable boy and he'll be fine. You like to see how much Dottore secretly cares for his kid too, although you feel a bit bad for the poor Fatui agents who are currently dealing with his orders. If someone does end up hurting your son, however, well... you can be scarier than Dottore if you want to. At the end of it, Dottore ends up giving you both a scolding... but neither of you takes it seriously as you giggle with each other.)

[robby-bobby-tommy]

They do be looking👁👁

[elodieunderglass]

the first chapter of Moby Dick rewritten in tiresome modern idiom

CHAPTER 1. Loomings.

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - it's none of your business how many - being mostly broke, and bored with the land part of the world, I thought I would sail around a little and look at the watery part of the world. I'm probably the most mentally healthy person you know. Whenever I feel my face getting grim; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself accidentally reading the ads in the window of funeral homes, and following funeral processions through traffic; and especially when I'm hangry, and only my extremely strong moral principles stop me from deliberately going out in public and methodically slapping people's earbuds out - then I know it's high time to get to sea, ASAP. This is my substitute for getting in fights. I'm too mentally healthy to kill myself; I quietly and considerately put myself on a ship and sail myself away instead. There is nothing surprising in this. Everyone feels exactly the same way, and if they don't, they're lying.

You think I'm lying? Exhibit A: a city. Go to your local coastal city. Everyone is looking at the water. They drive over from other neighborhoods just to come to the water. They make a day of it. They're not doing anything, they're just staring at the ocean. Why? Is it because they all work office jobs? No! Here come more of them! They cram themselves up to the edge of the water and stare at it. WHAT DO THEY WANT? WHAT ARE THEY LOOKING AT. Perhaps the ships themselves all packed together, each one with several compasses on it, creates some kind of critical mass - all of the small compass-magnets on all the ships in the harbor combining into one really big magnetic field - and the people get sucked into the field and trapped there. That's science.

Exhibit 2: the countryside with lakes in it. Every path you follow in the countryside brings you to some water, such as a stream. There is magic in it. If you take your standard fool with ADHD dissociating in the middle of a supermarket and put them outside and give them a shove, they'll automatically lead you to water (if there is any nearby) (try it). Another good experiment to try is to get lost in the great American desert in a caravan supplied with a metaphysical professor! Try it in the great American desert at home!

Yes, as everyone knows, meditation and water are a match made in heaven. Married forever. That's science.

Here's an artist who wants to paint you the dreamiest, most enchanting landscape. What does he put in it? Trees, meadow, cows, a cottage with smoke coming from the chimney, obviously. He will probably put a path in it and make lots of triangular mountains in rows and have them be different shades of blue (naturally.) But there's gotta be a stream in it. Go visit the prairies in June, and wade for forty miles through knee-deep through tiger lilies. What's missing from this picture? Water!

If Niagara Falls was made of sand instead of water, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why would a guy given a handful of cash have trouble deciding whether to buy a coat (which he needed) or go to the beach? Why are all the best, healthiest, sexiest and most mentally healthy people obsessed with the sea? (You get me.) When you were first on a boat, did you not succumb to VIBES? Consider ancient Persia. Consider ancient Greece. They understood about vibes, and also gods.

SURELY ALL OF THIS IS NOT WITHOUT MEANING.

And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all! You get me! You understand it now.

Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I get weird, don't you dare imply that I buy a ticket and get on a boat. I have never had money in my life. How dare you. Anyway I don't go as a passenger - that's bougie, and something boring people do. Passengers never have a good time. And although my C.V. is incredible - I go to sea SO MUCH, you guys, I have lots of experience - I don't go as a boss, or a cook. That sounds like far too much work. Hard work. Disgusting, respectable, bougie, and far too responsible. I can literally only look after myself. Do not ask me to look after ships or shit. In fact, I have only a vague idea of what a ship is. There's so many different kinds of ships - don't get me started and DO NOT GET INVOLVED. Also, I'm allergic to glory.

It's kind of attractive to go as a cook. I mean, I'm allergic to glory and there's some glory attached to the position of the ship's cook, but, like, you're not management-track and so it's still credible. But I don't really want to cook (say) roast chicken. I really fucking love to eat roast chicken. I'm one of the best at doing it actually. I really appreciate when people go out of their way to butter, season, baste and roast a chicken for me. Picture a roast chicken and I am Looking Respectfully at it. Maybe something more, maybe I'm worshipping it. Don't make this weird. If you want to get weird about my relationship with roasted chicken, why aren't you getting weird about the ancient Egyptians? They ate roasted hippos (look it up) and the pyramids were basically pizza ovens. So it's pretty hypocritical to think that I'm being weird about roasted chicken when I've never made mummies out of chickens or built a religious pizza oven dedicated to honoring them: check and mate, haters.

Anyway - I like to go to sea as a manual laborer. A simple sailor. Salt of the earth… er… sea. Yeah, true: as a job it sucks. They make you jump around, order you around, treat you like shit. They expect you to jump around the boat like a grasshopper. And yes, at first, this sucks. It's degrading, especially if you come from a middle-class family. Worse, it's awful if you've already had some kind of professional job before signing on to be the dirt on the boss's boots - like, if you went to college and worked as a teacher and actually got kids to pay attention to you, really feeling this connection to work/teaching/identity or some shit, and now you are just literally the scum on this captain's boots, in the lowest possible job in the world. It hurts! It hurts your dignity. But the hurt, and also the dignity, both wear off in time.

So what if some old bastard sea captain orders me - ME! - to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, compared to the shit in the Bible, compared to the shit in the news, compared to the shit everyone else has to take. Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain’t a slave? Tell me that. We're all just serfs under capitalism, right, so why not just be honest about it: I prefer the honesty. Anyway, however the old sea captains may order me about - slapping and punching of course - I have the satisfaction of knowing that it's the same experience everyone else on Earth has, but more honest. Everyone else in the world is being served the exact same way. Either in a physical or a metaphysical way - sometimes people get the shit beaten out of them in person, sometimes online, sometimes emotionally, it happens to you in EVERY JOB, you sign on to get pushed around and slapped in the teeth: so the point is that when you're a sailor, it's a clean and honest slap. All the workers of the world share the same universal slap to the face that gets passed round, one slap passed all 'round the chain, like paying it forward, but it's a slap; and we should all accept this Universal Slap as the price of living, and then offer each other healing back massages, brother to brother, and slap each other and then kissed the places we slapped, and be happy.

I could examine that but I'm not going to.

Anyway: I always go to sea as a sailor. I've said that already. You're welcome. BUT THE POINT IS, they pay you. If you're a passenger, they don't pay you, at least, not that I've ever heard of [citation needed] (do they pay passengers?? Is there a job I can get where I can be a passenger and get paid?? Look this up.) Yeah so passengers have to pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. (That's Adam and Eve. You get it.) But BEING PAID. GETTING PAID IS THE BEST. NOTHING COMPARES TO GETTING PAID. EVERYONE LOVES THAT SHIT. Which is surprising, since we also apparently believe that money is the root of all evil, and isn't there something in the bible about "no rich people can get into heaven," right? And yet it's universal, literally everyone loves payday. Ah! How cheerfully we send ourselves to hell.

Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor (I've said this already) because it's FRESH AIR AND EXERCISE. Okay so think about ships. Normally, bosses stand on the "bridge" thing, and because we're sailing a boat, the nose is going into the wind and the butt part of the boat is at the back. That's how wind works. But if you think about it, winds usually go in one direction more than other directions (unless the men have been eating beans and farting: it's Pythagoras, look it up) SO if you're a boss standing on the boss-deck, the wind is blowing FROM the sailors TOWARDS you, and YOU ARE ACTUALLY BREATHING THE AIR THAT SAILORS ALREADY BREATHED. The boss THINKS he breathes it first, but he doesn't. He gets the air at the BACK of the boat and sailors get the air at the FRONT. So it's better to be at the front of the boat (sailor) for health reasons. This is a metaphor for life and work, etc.

But I have smelled the sea lots of times as a paid sailor and WHY I should decide to go on a whaling expedition - ok so you know how there's an invisible police officer of the Fates who has me under constant surveillance, who secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way? YOU get me. You know him. "The poor FBI agent tasked with reading my search engine history" YOU GET ME. Anyway, "Ishmael, why, after having a perfectly well-reasoned, and very smart of you, part-time job as a spontaneous random sailor, did you decide to escalate that to joining a WHALING EXPEDITION, which is worse in every way?" Well, ask my fucking secret FBI agent, he can answer better than anyone else. Including me. You get me. Also, obviously, this was predestined, part of the Universe's Grand Programme for its talent show, which was all scheduled way before our time. The concept of sending me on the whaling voyage comes in as a kind of interlude or solo between the main performances of the Universe's great talent show. I bet it was advertised llike,

"PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION OF THE UNITED STATES EMBROILED IN ONGOING LEGAL DISPUTE.

Whaling voyage by some guy called Ishmael.

BLOODY BATTLE IN AFGHANISTAN."

Like a commercial break in between the big acts. A filler episode. Lightens the load for everyone else. Though I can't explain why the stage managers - the Fates - chose such a shitty role for me, a WHALING VOYAGE of all things, when it feels like others were given magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces - it seems a little unreasonable at first. Why doth Ishmael get shat upon, etc. But then I think about all the circumstances, the plot points and motivations that were cunningly presented to me under various disguises - FBI agents, bouts of random hanger, gay awakenings, you get me - and you can see that actually, I was set up. And worse, between them all, these Fates and Circumstances conspired to make me believe it was all my own choice and good judgment. Is Free Will an illusion? Are my decisions bad? We will NEVER know because I, Ishmael, am just a little guy that the Universe plays head games with.

One of the ways the Universe tricked me into starring in this performance and then mocking me for it was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself (whaling expeditions usually contain whales.) Such a portentous and mysterious monster roused all my curiosity. Then of course, if you have a whale, you have the wild and distant seas where the whale rolls around with his body-the-size-of-an-island; the dangers and nameless perils of the whale; whales are also found in interesting places I haven't seen; this all tipped me over the edge. Maybe normal people could've resisted, but I am tormented with an everlasting itch for obscurity. I hate everyone else's oceans. I want the forbidden seas.

You know The Horrors? Of course you do. You might be surprised that I, the most mentally healthy person you've ever met, a person who is self-aware enough to go to sea when they're at their fucking limits, a guy who likes fresh air and manual labor and normal things, is familiar with The Horrors. Well, you'd be surprised. I know what's good, I'm an extrovert. But I'm still quick to perceive The Horrors. And how I deal with the horrors is a very extroverted thing: I'm social with them, if they'll let me. It's smart to be on good terms with The Horrors. You should always be on good terms with your permanent neighbors. That's how extroverts deal with The Horrors, and I recommend it.

I think that's enough explanation for why I welcomed the whaling voyage. The great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild figments of imagination that pushed me into doing it, the whales came marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah. They marched into my innermost soul in endless processions and occupied it, you see, I was quite helpless under this occupation - I consented to the haunting and the whales marched in to haunt me - and amidst them all was one grand shrouded white phantom, like a snowy mountain in the air.

You get it.

You know how it is, with whales.

(read the actual first chapter of Moby Dick here: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2701/2701-h/2701-h.htm)

[ferrstappen]

primero llegó verstappen l MV1

a/n: MONACO by Bad Bunny. that's it that's the tweet. this isn't very long and its all over the place but I hope you like it <3

summary: Suddenly, Max isn't annoyed about being featured in a music video.

Max couldn't stop staring at himself in the mirror of a tent full of outfits, cameras and people moving from one place to another. In his mind he already did enough promo for the team, more than enough after being crowned World Champion for the third time and a huge contributor to the comfortable win of the Constructors Championship as well.

Maybe appearing in a music video was where he draw the line?

He wouldn't have an issue if it was him on his fireproofs doing a couple of laps in some closed circuits, maybe even some hot laps, but having to pose next to his RB19, wearing a faux leather jacket and showing one of his TAG Heuer Monaco Titan, because he was a walking billboard, was a little too much on his books, especially as a make up artist mixed different shades of some foundation, and Max was trying really hard not to take offense after he told him "his dark circles were incredibly hard to conceal".

Here he was doing favors and in return was being offended by his lack of sleep and naturally pale complexion.

He almost laughed after noticing Checo staring at himself in the mirror, the same confused and uncomfortable look on his face, and the same tight jacket as they contemplated the marina from above.

In conclusion, yes, this was well above his paycheck. Max also wouldn't deny he didn't thrill on the presence of paparazzi in quiet Monaco. granted, they were looking for the big star who was doing some shots around the city, walking hand in hand with his model girlfriend, but he could still make out some yelling for him and Checo.

Then, his day took a turn.

Some crew members wearing headphones and what he assumed were the assistants approached him and Checo, telling them this wouldn't take long since all they had to do was walk around the car, get in and out of the car, with and without the helmet, all while blasting the song.

A very catchy and good song that mentioned he was the first one to cross the finish line. At least he couldn't complain about that.

But he was internally complaining when, once again, he found himself on the make up chair with the same make up artist who had a problem with his dark circles, but this time the place was much different.

A sharp suit and this time a heavy Patek Philippe on his wrist as he walked inside the Casino of Monte Carlo. Now he was greeted by Bad Bunny himself, who thanked him many many times for being a part of this, and in return Max thanked him for even thinking of him for his song. They fell into a comfortable conversations about cars when the singer motioned for two girls to come over, one Max recognized as Kendall Jenner, the other he didn't know but was eager to.

"Max, this is mi novia, Kendall, and this is her friend (y/n). They're doing some stuff on the background, don't they look incredible?"

Max swore the designer dress you were wearing was painted on you, because there was no way it could fit so perfectly on your body, with a couple of stray hairs adorning your face and long eyelashes accentuating your eyes.

"It's so nice to meet you, I'm such a big fan of motorsport," you stretched your hand and it caught Max off guard, not really knowing what to do.

So he panicked and gave you a weird handshake before lifting your hand to his lips and leaving a kiss, and he had never felt more like a creep, but he noticed you blushing and a giggle leaving your lips.

You wanted to add something when the crew called everyone to start shooting, Benito and Kendall leading the way, and the only thing Max thought of doing was to offer you his arm which you gladly accepted.

The song was blasting as everyone pretended to talk and surround the roulette, but you and Max weren't pretending to laugh or to talk.

He even left Checo by himself, he'd forgive him eventually.

"I'm pretty sure the camera is on us in this moment," you told him through gritted teeth, trying to keep a perfect smile.

"What should we do?" Max asked, trying to hide his smile while doing his best to give you his best seductive stare.

You knew he was flirting with you and it was surprising. After seeing him on screens and social media you figured he'd be cocky, not having any trouble flirting with women every weekend on different countries, figuring out a way with foreign languages, but you never pictured him as a giddy, easily flushed, good for banter man, and the only thing you wanted was to leave this shoot and have him show you the city, dressed to the nines and maybe pretending to be cold in the end so he could put his jacket over your shoulders, and that way you could see him with just a white shirt and undone tie.

But you were getting a bit ahead of yourself, especially when you heard the director yell cut and tell you and Max to pay attention to the instructions, earning you the glare of everyone in the room.

"Ey, cabrón, que se están enamorando, déjalos solos!" Hey, they're falling in love, leave them alone. Those were Benito's words.

And God, was he right.

[hisui-dreamer]

his cleaner shrimp

Pairing: Floyd Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: you had only meant to help him once, but he attached himself to you straight away

Tags: fluff, comfort, humour(?), Floyd calls you shrimpy, mentions of blood, Floyd and Jade fought, bot proofread

Word count: 1.5k+

Notes: more floyd fluff! this fic was originally angst can u believe it anyways i was inspired to do a classic shoujo manga scene hehe

Masterlist

'I did nothin' wrong!' Floyd thought to himself.

In the shadowed back alley, Floyd sat curled up against the wall, his emotions roiling like a stormy sea after a heated confrontation with Jade. Anger still boiled within him, but the sting of his injuries dampened his spirit.

His left cheek was swollen and discolored, a vivid shade of purple and blue, with a raw, angry red spot where Jade's knuckles had landed with force. A small cut near his eyebrow oozed blood, giving his face a gritty and battle-worn appearance. His knuckles were bruised and bloodied as well, the skin was broken in places from the forceful punches he had thrown.

He nursed his wounded pride, nursing his bruised ego, and found solace in the alleyway alone, away from prying eyes. If anyone had dared to even look at him funny, they would be met with a fierce glare from his mismatched eyes, as if daring them to challenge him to a second fight.

But it seemed his glare wasn't intimidating enough, as your shadow started approaching him, prompting him to look up from the floor. You were a small thing in Floyd's eyes, not the best target for a fight, and definitely easy to throw around.

'Pshh... Just small fry...' he thought as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Uhh, hey there," you said hesitantly, holding out a plastic bag Floyd could only assume contained first aid supplies from the red symbols. "I couldn't help but notice you're hurt. Your injuries might get infected if you leave them untreated."

Floyd's initial gruffness wavered slightly as he glanced at you, surprised by your concern. But he didn't want anyone's pity or help, especially not from a stranger. "I don't need any help from small fry like you," he retorted, trying to sound tough and dismissive. "I'm not that weak."

Still, you continued taking steps closer, kneeling down next to him to stare directly into his eyes. "Even strong people can get infections, you know," you said, a wry smile playing on your lips. "It'll hurt more then, so it's better to have it treated now."

Floyd hesitated, torn between his pride and the growing realization that he did need help. Perhaps it was the adrenaline passing, but he could feel his bloodied hand throbbing in sharp pain. He cast a hesitant glance in your direction, taking in the softness and understanding in your face. In that moment, he decided to let his guard down, just for a little bit.

"Fine, whatever," he mumbled, begrudgingly extending his injured hand toward you.

Your touch was gentle and sure, and as you cleaned the wounds and applied antiseptic, you made sure to warn him of the incoming sting, though he seemed unaffected by it all. Despite his efforts to stay aloof, Floyd found himself feeling strangely comforted by your presence. As you continued to patch him up, he felt a warmth spreading through his body, a soft and fuzzy feeling that he couldn't explain. He wondered if that was the infection you had warned him about, but it didn't feel bad or painful; instead, it felt like a balm for his tired soul.

With your curiosity getting the better of you, you couldn't help but ask about the cause of the fight.

"So, what happened?"

Floyd looked at you, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, he hesitated. However, the trust he had found in your compassion made him open up.

"Shrimpy's curious, huh..." he replied with a small smile. "Okay, I'll tell ya, but only cuz you're Shrimpy."

You blinked at the peculiar nickname, amused and intrigued. "Shrimpy? Is that... me?"

He nodded happily, a hint of mischief in his eyes. You couldn't help but smile wryly at the odd choice of nickname.

"I had a fight with my brother," Floyd finally admitted, his smile fading into a pout.

"It's Jade's fault!" he yelled, his frustration evident in his voice. "He kept using those weird ingredients in his cooking, even though I hate 'em! I kept tellin' him, but he didn't even listen."

He paused, his voice turning quieter as he continued, "So I broke one of his terrariums to make him stop, but he got really angry..."

You listened attentively, humming as you carefully cleaned the wound on his face. "And so you two fought... I understand how that could be frustrating," you said softly. "You know, cooking takes a lot of time and effort... I'm sure your brother just wanted you to enjoy it like he does."

Floyd glanced at you, his mismatched eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. He couldn't ignore the gut feeling that maybe you were right.

"Yeah, maybe he did," he conceded, a hint of contemplation in his voice. "But it's still annoying he doesn't listen to me."

You nodded, understanding his frustrations. "Of course, it's not nice that Jade disregarded your feelings," you replied gently. "But you should respect his feelings too. Breaking his terrarium wasn't the right way to handle it."

Your words struck a chord with Floyd, and he felt a pang of remorse for his impulsive actions. He knew better than anyone else how much time and effort Jade devoted to caring for his cherished terrariums, often staying up late into the night to tend to them.

"Aww man... Shrimpy's right," he muttered, feeling the weight of his mistake. "Jeez, what do I do now?"

You offered a reassuring smile, glad that his anger had dissipated. "It's never too late to make things right. The best place to start is always an apology," you suggested. "There, all done," you murmured as you finished placing an island dressing bandage on his face, a smile forming on your face at the job well done.

Floyd, meanwhile, stared at you in a daze, your close proximity allowing him to notice all the little details on your face. He felt his cheeks warm as a gentle affection slowly bubbled inside him. Your genuine care and gentle touch had triggered something deep within him, and he found himself feeling drawn to your presence.

"Floyd!" a familiar voice broke him out of his daze. "There you are!"

Jade stood at the front of the alley, slightly panting as if he had been rushing around. You nudged Floyd gently, having recognized that the man must be his brother, and gave him a reassuring nod.

Floyd glanced at his brother, momentarily torn between his pride and guilt. But he took a deep breath and stepped forward, his voice steady as he said, "Jade, sorry... I shouldn't have broken your terrarium, and it was wrong..." He confessed. "But I don't want to eat any of those weird things again!" he exclaimed with a pout.

Jade's initial surprise gave way to a soft smile, appreciating Floyd's rare willingness to apologize and make amends.

"I understand, Floyd," Jade replied, his tone more understanding now. "And I apologise as well. I should have listened to you and respected your preferences."

Floyd's pout softened as he realized that his brother was willing to meet him halfway. "Really?" he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

Jade nodded. "Yes, really. Though I do not wish to, I will stop using mushrooms for your meals."

"Wait..." you blurted, turning to look at Floyd. "This whole time, the weird ingredients you've been talking about are mushrooms?"

At he nodded furiously, your incredulous expression only intensified. "But mushrooms are so delicious! Why would you hate them?"

Before Floyd could even start to complain, Jade approached you and clasped both of you hands, his eyes alit with surprise and excitement. "I'm delighted to meet a fellow mushroom lover! Would you like to join me on a mushroom foraging trip in the mountains?"

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. As you tried to muster up a response, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you backward to meet his sturdy chest. It was Floyd, and you could feel his warmth and presence enveloping you, his chin resting on top of your head, his hair tickling your forehead.

"No way! Go get your own Shrimpy! This one's mine!" Floyd exclaimed, his arms tightening around you possessively to prove his point.

Jade's lips spread into a wide smile, his sharp teeth showing playfully. "Now now, Floyd, I do believe you've broken a precious terrarium of mine," he hummed as he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "It's only fair that you give me something for reparations."

"Nuh-uh! As if I'd let you steal my Shrimpy!" Floyd said. In a fluid motion, he picked you up and started running off with you, while you scrambled to hold on tight to him.

You couldn't help but squeal as the unexpected playfulness unfolded. "W-wait! Floyd! Put me down!"

"Nope! You're my cleaner Shrimpy now! I'm not lettin' you go!" Floyd declared, his voice lighthearted and full of joy.

Maybe you should have been more concerned by his words, but you found yourself so captivated by his joyful and innocent laugh, that you couldn't help but burst into a fit of giggles with him.

Masterlist

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Miracle

Aitana Bonmatí x Baby!Reader

Summary: You're a miracle

Aitana didn't take days off.

That was something Keira knew.

Aitana refused to take days off even when she was sick and injured. She always arrives ready and willing to train even though everyone knows that she'd just be sent home.

It's why this past week has been strange.

Aitana didn't come into training once. There was no hide or hair of the girl. Her phone immediately went to voicemail. The lights in her house were always off.

If there weren't still Bonmatí shirts in the kit room then Keira could almost believe Aitana never existed.

It was strange and off putting, especially because whenever she asked, Jona would respond that Aitana was off for personal reasons.

None of it made any sense until all of a sudden it did.

Keira was running later, tripping over her own feet as she hurries out of her car. She slams the door shut as she hefts her training bag over her shoulder.

The sound of another door slamming shut shocks her and she whips her head up to see which of her teammates would be having to run laps with her.

She spots Aitana though.

Aitana who is juggling three different bags and a baby.

"Aitana?" Keira asks," Are you okay?"

Aitana looks half to tears as one of the bags fall. She shakes her head.

"I've got it," Keira says," Come on. Let's get you inside."

Aitana doesn't speak as they both make their way to the empty locker room. She doesn't really do anything apart from occasionally holding you closer, breathing in your soft baby smell and pulling back with tears in her eyes.

"So..." Keira feels awkward. This wasn't how she thought her day would be going. "Are you babysitting?"

Aitana's bottom lip wobbles as she glances at you, shaking her head and Keira doesn't push about it anymore.

"Are you training today?" She asks instead," Or is this just a visit?"

"Training." It's the first word Aitana's said to her all morning and Keira counts it as a small victory.

Her friend looks distraught but you seem fairly happy on her hip.

You're sucking on your fingers and looking around, eyes wide as you garble out half words and sounds. Your happy smiling face changes though when you notice Aitana isn't smiling.

Your whole face scrunches up and you recklessly lean towards her to press what is more an open-mouthed breath than an actual kiss to her cheek.

That causes the tiniest of smiles to appear on Aitana's face. "Sí, thank you, estrella."

You giggle, kicking your little legs as Aitana moves to exit the locker room, Keira hurrying to trail behind.

Jona welcomes them both warmly and seems to forget Keira being late in exchange for greeting you.

"If you still need time," He says to Aitana," Then you're welcome to take more time off."

"No," Aitana says," I need to be back on the pitch. I...We need normalcy. The books said I need to establish a routine."

"If you need help-"

"Jona, I'll be fine."

"Of course you will but you're not alone in this. I'll help. Irene will help. You only need to ask."

"I know."

There's already a space made up for you in the shade. Aitana doesn't question who brought out the playpen to keep you enclosed but she's thankful regardless.

You'd just begun to learn how to get around by rolling and she doesn't want to have to keep one eye on you for the whole of training.

She doesn't have to do it but she finds herself doing it anyway, like she can't bare to be separated from you.

"Hey," Irene says during a little break," I heard what happened."

"From Jona?" Aitana can't help be annoyed. Jona shouldn't be airing out her personal business to anyone.

"Alexia, actually," Irene says," She said you might need some help."

"I don't need help!" Aitana snaps, fists clenched at her side," It's not the first time I've had her! I can cope!"

"Babysitting is different from being her mother."

"I'm not her mother!" Aitana insists," Her parents are going to wake up! They are!"

Paredes look tells Aitana that she thinks it's unlikely and Aitana regrets ever informing the club about what had happened. She should have known they would tell Alexia who, trying to be the ever-helpful captain, would pass on the knowledge to whoever she felt could offer the most support.

Of course, she went to Paredes, the ever-experienced mother of the group. She could have easily gone to Marta too but with her working out how to introduce Caro to her Conejita, she would be too preoccupied to offer help.

"Aitana-"

"Thank you for the offer," Aitana says through gritted teeth," But I don't need it."

She storms off then, turning on her heel. She barges past Alexia who was hovering nearby, intent on giving her a piece of her mind.

Her mouth is already open to hurl an out of character insult at her captain when she catches onto your wailing. It seems you're a bit out of character too today.

You'd slept horribly last night and the night before. You didn't eat well this morning either and you had cried all through the car journey to training. The happiest you'd been was in the locker room with Keira.

Aitana knew it wouldn't last.

But she couldn't work out what was wrong with you. You're weren't hungry. You didn't need a change. You weren't hurt.

You were just sobbing when she picks you up, hiding your face in her neck and wiping your runny nose with her training top.

"What's wrong, estrella?" She coos," What's wrong? What's happened?"

You sniffle a few more times. "Ta-Ta."

"Hmm." Aitana runs a soft hand over your hair. "You just wanted me, huh?"

"Ta-Ta."

"I understand." She sways you side to side until your sobs have turned into little hiccups of emotion and you're looking up at her with wide, teary eyes.

"Just Estrella and her Ta-Ta," She coos," This is very different, isn't it?"

Aitana sits down on the grass, digging around in one of the bags she brought for your bottle. Your parents had begun to try to wean you but the past week has been so stressful already and she doesn't want to do more to unsettle you.

You suckle aimlessly, one of your hands moving to cover the one of Aitana's that's holding your bottle.

She stares ahead as a familiar face sits down next to her.

By now, she knows that her strange behaviour has spread all over the team. Paredes and Alexia both hover uncertainly nearby like they want to offer help again but don't want to wind her up further.

Across the pitch, Aitana can spot Marta and her Conejita doing arts and crafts together.

It sends a stabbing pain into her chest and the words spill out of her mouth before Keira can even ask.

"She's not mine. I mean, she is but not really."

"Aitana, I don't understand."

"Her parents...my friends..." Her throat closes up. "I was babysitting last week for date night and they...A drunk driver hit them."

"I'm sorry. Are they-?"

Aitana shakes her head. "They're in comas. They put me down as Estrella's guardian. I...They...I'm trying my best."

"I'm sure you are. You must love her a lot."

"She's mine," Aitana chokes out," Biologically. She's mine. They-They couldn't get pregnant and I offered to donate an egg and we agreed I'd be fun Tia Ta-Ta..."

"Oh, Aitana..."

The tears are running down her cheeks now and she's can't stop them.

"They were going to have date night with her last week. They said that they'd find something baby friendly but I insisted. It was so close. She could have...Keira, she could have died."

Keira glances at you. You're so comfortable in Aitana's arms and, now that she's really looking, she can see the similarities between the both of you.

You both have the same crying face.

"But she didn't," Keira says," You were looking after her, Aitana. You had her. You kept her safe."

"Ta-Ta?" Your tone is questioning and your little pudgy hands come up to touch her cheeks.

"I'm fine, estrella," She says to you as her phone rings. She already knows who is calling. Somehow, she already knows what they're going to tell her. "Why don't you hang out with your fun Tia Keira? I'll be back in a second."

"Ta-Ta!" You whine as you're shuffled from Aitana to Keira.

"Just a minute. Then it's Ta-Ta and Estrella time."

As she answers the phone, Aitana knows that's it's going to be Ta-Ta and Estrella time forever now.

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Lipstick Test

Ft. Nanami Kento

image by @/ shoujo-dreamland

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, cock teasing, oral (male receiving), face fucking, minor cumplay and dacryphilia

Summary: Nanami gets an important lesson about different lip products.

Pairing: Nanami x Fem! Reader

A/N: This was so much fun to write! Based off of a visual description in this post by @actuallysaiyan.

Word Count: 3.2K

Nanami masterlist

Day 1 - Lip Balm

Nanami has long since learned to not question how much makeup you own. It brings you joy, you wear it for your own satisfaction, and it is arranged neatly in the vanity of your shared bedroom. He normally doesn't even give it a second thought. But sometimes when you ask him for an opinion on what looks good, what to keep and throw away, he finds himself slightly exasperated. 

“Sweetheart I don't know. If you like it, keep it. I can’t really tell you.”

“But I hardly ever wear lip gloss. Is it worth it?” 

He glances at the tube you're holding trying to think of a suitable response. “How is it different from the other one you showed me?” 

“Well, it's shiny. The other one is an actual lipstick. Look.” You twist the tube to bring up the lipstick and show off the color. Nanami's eyes flick between the two wondering what he could say without causing friction. 

“Y/n I'm still not sure if I see a difference," he says cautiously. “They look similar.”

“How are they similar? Look at this.” You remove the wand from the lip gloss tube and swatch it on your arm before repeating the action for the lipstick.

“See how different they are? This one only has a little color and a lot of shine. The lipstick is full-bodied color and has less shine.” 

Nanami looks at the streaks on your arm. “Oh yes. I see it now.” 

“How have you been with me this long and don't know the difference?” 

“Men are simple Y/n. We like it when you get dressed up but not enough to know what's going on your face,” he says light-heartedly. 

You sigh. That was the truth. Even Nanami was susceptible to certain characteristics most men had, which included not knowing the difference between lipstick and lip gloss.

A sudden idea comes into your head. 

“Ken?” 

“Hmm?” He asks absentmindedly as he fixes his tie, getting ready to go to work. 

“What if I said I have an idea that would guarantee you remembering which lip product is which?” 

“Oh?” With mild interest, Nanami finishes the knot and raises his eyebrows. “Do tell.” 

You grin wickedly. “Drop your pants.” 

For a moment he wasn't sure he heard you correctly. “Now?” 

You nod, biting your lip at the expression on his face. He checks his watch and sighs. He does need to get going soon but curiosity gets the better of him. 

“Fine. What have you got planned, you little vixen?” You smirk as he undoes his belt and zip, pulling them down with his boxers, and giggle with delight when you see he's partially erect. 

“I'm sure you'll never forget this lesson. So. Lip product one. Chapstick or lip balm.” You pull out a tube of strawberry-scented balm and apply it to your lips before smacking them once. “They usually don't have a lot of color to them. They are great for moisture, especially during the winter. You can wear these under lipstick since they don't change the shade. And they're sometimes scented.”

You grab his cock and kneel in front of him, flattered to hear a soft groan leave his lips and become fully erect. 

“Oh, Kento… nothing is going to happen just yet. You need to learn the differences before that.” You wickedly give a tiny lick over his slit, enjoying the taste of it, before pressing a firm kiss against the pink tip, lingering for a while to ensure your lips had made their mark. Sure enough, when you pull away, there's a barely visible sheen of grease from your actions. 

“Have a great day,” you say teasingly before dancing away into the shower. It takes Nanami a second to realize what happened before he checks his watch again. 

“Shit.” 

He hastily redresses himself and leaves for work. 

It was an uncomfortable morning, to say the least, his mind occupied with thoughts of the withdrawn blow job. He manages to make it till lunch before his thoughts become scattered and he quickly vanishes into the men's room to take care of himself. 

As he unclothes himself, he sees with fascination that the little grease mark you left in the morning is still there. He runs his thumb over it, remembering what you had said about it being scented before bringing it up to his nose, blushing when the smell of strawberries fills his senses. 

He pictures the way your lips looked today morning, no color, smelling like strawberries, and with gritted teeth starts to pump himself, trying to keep his moans to a minimum as he finishes and cums in his hand. 

Day 2 - Lip Gloss

He wakes to the feeling of his cock throbbing, begging for attention. You hadn't relieved him last night, shaking your head at him, stating he wouldn't learn if you just gave him what he wanted. But you were definitely putting a lot of effort into keeping him in a state of frustration. 

Before he left, today you applied a shiny lip gloss with a darker color to it and ran the smoothened surface of your lips over his tip, the lack of friction surprising him as he restrained himself from shoving his hardened length into your mouth. 

“And uh… What is this one called again?” He asks slightly breathlessly as you stop your actions.

“Lip gloss. It's very shiny and goes on very smoothly. Like lube for the lips.” You resume the back-and-forth motions, keeping your mouth shut tight. 

Lube for the lips - How much longer would he have to face your sweet tormenting?

When you're done he can see how glossy his head looks with a tinge of some berry color on it, looking like you'd been sucking on it like a lollipop instead of leisurely brushing against it. 

“Please Y/n…” He pushes forward so pleadingly but you smile and tilt your head ever so slightly so that his cock slides across your cheek instead, hot and throbbing. 

“Two more Kento… trust me I'll make it worth your while.” You stand and help tuck him back into his boxers, ignoring the sigh of longing that leaves his lips. You hated sending him to work like this, unsatisfied, but knew that he'd be thinking of you all day. That made the guilt go away faster. 

Nanami has one of the most unproductive days of his life. He sits at his desk blankly staring at his laptop wondering if some unknown divine being was laughing at his misfortune. 

Day 3 - Bullet Lipstick

Nanami approaches day 3 with trepidation when he sees the tube of lipstick set on the vanity as he steps out of the shower. You smile pleasantly at him like you’re not the reason he’s been sleeping with blue balls for the last 2 nights. 

“So this is a standard lipstick.” You remove the cap and twist the cylinder to show him the siren red shade which he recognizes immediately. This was your date night lipstick. His heart beats a little faster as you start applying it to your lips. He already knows what that color looks like on his cock; you’ve left residue on him before after giving him head and he’s not sure if he has the capacity to go to work with a kiss mark from this particular lipstick on his tip. He hasn’t even stripped down yet but he can feel precum leaking from his slit hidden by the towel on his hips. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” The question comes out husky and a little desperately as you drag the lipstick over your lips a second time to ensure the color pops vividly. You give an innocent look. 

“I’m just trying to educate my boyfriend about lipstick,” you say nonchalantly, putting the cosmetic away. “Well let’s do it.”

Knowing you were fully aware of the effect this particular lipstick has on him, he resignedly drops the towel, feeling the heat rush to his face as fluid leaked from his tip, cock begging for attention. You coo at him as you take it into your hands. He would get his reward tomorrow. 

“Aww….poor thing…Just one more day, ok? I promise.” You lick away the salty, milky drops gathering at the opening, dipping the tip of your tongue into the crevice making him hiss and thrust his hips needily. His fingers grip your hair, and you untangle them with your free hand. Flicking teasingly against the sensitive slit, you grace him with a tiny slurp as you wrap your lips around the measliest circumference possible, hearing the frustrated grumble that arises in his chest, observing the way his balls hang heavily from his body, full of unrelieved cum. You resist the temptation to play with them. He didn’t need the extra stimulation. You let go and observe the ring of color that’s left behind on the engorged head. 

Nanami’s eyes are glassy at the sight, feeling sensibility wash out of him, replaced with a burning need to stuff your mouth full and face fuck you until he cums, the hot liquid dripping everywhere. He twitches in protest when you let go, the little suction you had provided only provoking him more. You press your pretty lips to the side of the tip again, keeping them there long enough to have the color stain his skin. 

“One more day,” you whisper reassuringly, giving another kiss to the pulsing organ, veins showing up so prominently you wonder how he’s managing to think at all. Before he could say anything, you check the time.

“Gotta get to work! See you later.” You wave your hand, struggling not to laugh at the incredulous look he gives you before racing out the door. He sees the date night lipstick stuck to his dick and tries to calm himself down. Nothing works. He ends up relieving himself at home before going to work, digging up one of your used panties from the hamper, smelling the lingering scent of your pussy as he jerks off. He’s still hard when he finishes and he sees that despite the aggressive abuse he inflicted on himself, the lipstick was still there, the kiss mark only slightly mussed. A dick hickey. This day could not end fast enough.

Day 4 - Liquid Lipstick

“Now liquid lipsticks are amazing because they’re super long-wearing. And once they dry down they don’t smudge or leave stains. Hard to remove. But worth it.”

Nanami is standing naked in front of you, cock at attention, not having bothered to get dressed today until you are done. He keeps his face passive, knowing that your reckoning would come this evening. 

You take the wand from the tube and start applying the lipstick, the fluid becoming tacky as it lacquers your lips. You grasp his cock firmly, pumping slightly, a chuckle escaping your lips as he bucks involuntarily in your hand. 

“Ready for tonight?” You purr, looking up at him mischievously. His face is set in a grimace as he imagines what he has planned for you tonight. You had no idea, you poor innocent lamb. He nods curtly.

With the lipstick still feeling tacky, you press a kiss to his head for a final time and pull away, seeing the liquid matte lipstick start to dry down. To quicken the process, you blow cool air over it and Nanami bites back a grunt at the chill, pearlescent liquid beginning to bead at his tip.

“Maybe we should look into temperature play next time,” you tease, before swiping away the bead with your thumb and licking it clean. Nanami makes no comment, reeling in his tendencies with herculean effort. 

It takes another minute for it to dry down before forming a matte finish, the classic lip image one pictured in their mind. The lipstick was a dark cherry red, almost looking like a partially healed bruise on his delicate skin. You tap gently to ensure It was completely set. 

“Well… Have a good day Kento.” Like the past few days, you push his cock back into his boxers, trying not to smirk at how it tented the fabric. “I'll give you a minute to calm down. And tonight… You'll see how much I appreciate your effort.”

“Mhm,” is all he says as he waits for tonight. 

∘°∘♡∘°∘

You squeezed yourself into the tiny bits of lace and silk in preparation for him coming home that night. You had already brought takeout from his favorite restaurant and waited for him to come home. Of course you'd be giving him head. He deserved it after the impressive display of patience from the last four days. When you hear his footsteps coming near your bedroom, you feel your core moisten in anticipation. 

Upon seeing you, Nanami merely starts to undress, his ideas blooming to life in his mind’s eye.

“Y/n,” he says as he opens the buttons on his shirt. Your eyes follow his hands, feeling like your mouth might start to water at any moment as he exposes his chest, a broad, muscled wall of masculinity. 

“Hmm?”

“So far, you’ve told me about lipsticks that are designed to last. Are there any that give you color but also tend to smudge very easily?” He shrugs out of the shirt and you feel like a lech, staring unashamedly at the abs and pecs that rippled like water flowing down a riverbed. 

You rack your brain, thinking. It was very hard to focus when your incredibly attractive boyfriend was stripping down, staring at you with those wolf-like eyes, threatening to swallow you whole. 

“I think I have one like that…why?”

“Would you mind wearing it now? Please?” He starts unbuckling his belt, his expression almost light and pleasant. You were puzzled at the casual way he asks but thought nothing of it.

“Ah, yeah, sure.” You slide off the bed, knowing the tiny lace thong was probably flashing him enticingly, showcasing your round ass as you walked over the vanity. You find the lipstick in question, a lovely candy pink shade which never lasted longer than an hour when you wore it. Although Nanami’s request mystifies you, you put it on anyway, and walk back to him. 

He was wearing nothing but his boxers, the thick bulge of his erection visible through the fabric. You smile at him and without needing direction, drop to your knees in front of him. As you palm him through his boxers, you look up at him, see the way his eyes grow dark. You pull the waistband down, freeing his cock from its confines. Swollen, you can feel the heat emanating from it and you run your hands, one after the other down the length, squeezing, hearing him inhale sharply before opening your mouth and taking him in.

You lean back slightly to allow more movement for your head, bobbing up and down, enjoying the taste, seeing the way your lipstick streaked along his skin, then pull back, strings of spit forming from your lips to the tip. You take in a breath then squeal as Nanami roughly grabs your hair and shoves himself roughly back in, letting his cock slide all the way into the back of your mouth, tip sitting at the curve of your tongue leading into your throat. Your nose hits his pubes but before you can adjust he yanks again, and he’s pistoning himself in and out of you with aggression.

“Keep those pretty lips open,” he growls as he thrusts relentlessly, ignoring the noises of you trying to catch your breath as he uses you to his liking. His tip enters ever so briefly into your throat and he holds himself for a moment, peering down at you as you look up at him with hazy eyes, at his mercy. With a groan he yanks back, and you inhale deeply, feeling the relief of air for a second before he forces you back on him, teeth gritted as he fucks your mouth. 

“Shit…fuck yes, Y/n good girl…take it all…”

Saliva drips from your aching, open jaws but you do it for him, feeling it slide from the corners of your mouth, falling onto your breasts, your thighs, the floor. He somehow feels bigger right now, his thickness testing your limit, his length almost choking you everytime. Deepthroating him was always a challenge even on your own terms but today you held still and let him use you, spluttering each time he pulled out, before being filled again. 

Nanami watches with satisfaction as the pink lipstick starts to smudge, the color leaving a ring around the perimeter of your lips, some of it dribbling down to form streaks on your chin as the saliva falls. What a sight you were, eyes wide and filled with tears, jaw struggling to remain open and take him, your soft whimpering music to his ears, the vibrations further adding to his arousal. You really thought you had the last word when teasing him with your lip products? Oh you foolish woman. 

He grunts as he feels the heat in his belly, feels his balls starting to tighten, preparing to unload 4 days worth of pent up sexual frustration. Recognizing the signs, you reach out a hand to cup and squeeze him enticingly, drawing a guttural sound of approval as he keeps moving his hips. You flatten your tongue, readying yourself to swallow…and he stops. He doesn’t pull out but pulls your head back by the hair so that you’re looking directly into his eyes.

“Do not swallow,” he says in a raspy voice, a feral snarl of instruction. Your eyes widen at his words. He stares you down, making sure you heard him.

“Nod if you understand.”

Mouth full, you nod gingerly.

“Good girl.” He thrusts in suddenly, taking you by surprise as you try to use the remaining brain cells available to you to remember his command. His grunts become pleasurable moans.

“Fuck I’m close…remember…don’t swallow…want to see you messy…” he gasps in between thrusts. 

As his orgasm hits, thick spurts of milky cum coat your mouth, and he doesn’t remove his cock, leaving it inside as he empties his balls. The liquid drips out steadily, and he watches with satisfaction as some of it starts to stain pink and it slides down your chin and throat, lipstick smearing everywhere.

“Don’t swallow,” he repeats. “And mouth open.” He eases out of you and you feel all his cum pool into your lower jaw, flowing under your tongue and plummeting out of your opened lips. Namami’s thumbs rest at the corners of your mouth, and he swipes at the cum trickling out of your opened lips, relishing the way it turns pink as he mixes it with the lipstick, before brushing the mixture upwards, drawing the color onto your cheeks. 

“I think I understand now.” He takes more dripping, colored, cum and slides it down the sides of your throat. “Long wearing color really does matter.” He continues to caress your face, spreading his seed all over you, enjoying the look in your eyes.

You whimper at the ache in your jaw and he smirks at you. “You may swallow now.”

With relief, you close your mouth and down every last drop, tongue darting out to clean up anything left on your lips. Candy pink is the only thing visible on your face. 

“Next time, wear a matte lipstick. I want to see if it really doesn’t transfer.”

Next time?!

All banners by @/ cafe kitsune

@daswanj , @buttercupbitches, @byul9158 , @mirrors-musings, @jadedjane, ,@estarlias, @connorsui @starsinmylatte @harlekin6 @hunnie-lily

[knack4harlow]

“Don’t go over your budget”

“Are you still giving me the silent treatment?” 

“…”

“C'mon Y/N I said I’m sorry .”

“…”

Jack tilted his body against the wall in the doorway watching his girlfriend as she refused to even look at him. Wanting to be the bigger person, he slumped his shoulders and slowly walked over to the edge of the bed where you laid. 

“C'mon, baby it was just a joke I swear.” 

“Would it be just a joke if I said you need to start covering that 100 acres of forehead you got?” 

“Guess you aren’t so sad anymore huh?” He mumbled, quietly fixing his curly bangs.

“You know how insecure I am about my body hair Jack.” 

He sighed, “Your right baby I’m sorry, I took it too far and I apologize. You're gorgeous with or without body hair”

You silently smiled to yourself at that, but wouldn’t let it show of course.

He started to gently rub your back and give you slow kisses on your arm and shoulder. “What can I do to make it up to you sweet girl?” He pleaded in between kisses. You immediately sat up. 

“Makeup run?” you smiled.

He laughed, “Wow that was easy.” playfully rolling his eyes. 

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Princess you know I like to spoil you but you spent over 2,000 dollars last time, we can do anything else. “

“How about no sex for a week?”

“I'll go get my shoes on”

15 minutes later both of you were finally ready and we're heading out the door and climbing into his jeep. The drive to the mall wasn't that far from your apartment and before you knew it you were pulling up to the parking lot. Before climbing out of the car your boyfriend grabbed your wrist.

“Y/N you have a budget of 400.”

“400?!” you yelled, a little bit too loudly. “After the way you treated me?”

“$450”

“$550”

“$500”

“$800” 

“$200”

“550 it is.” you smiled. 

“That's what I thought” he smirked. “Watch that attitude” you smiled back as you leaned into a kiss, rubbing his beard.

He grabbed your hand as you both walked into the store feeling the brush of air. 

“God damn it's cold in here,” he whispered to himself. 

“ Baby it's 90 degrees outside.” 

“And?”  

“Nevermind” you rolled your eyes. 

“Sassy ass” you mumbled to yourself. “Don’t start,” he replied. 

After a little bit of looking around with him following close behind, you both made your way to where you get your concealer. While looking for your shade you saw your boyfriend wander and go towards some other products. 

“God damn did everybody take my shade?” you uttered to yourself.

“Baby, what's up with these names?”, “Better than sex, better than sex foreplay, shit making me horny”. You giggled at his antics “Jack please put that down.” 

“Maybe we can go to the back of the store or something,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. 

“It's official, I’m never bringing you here again,” you said walking away from him as he smacked his lips together.

You made your way over to the skin care section and started piling your basket.

“Hey remember your budget,” Jack said furrowing his eyebrows. “It's $800 right?” you joked looking up at him. He didn't find it amusing though. 

“We should really get some of this stuff for you, especially something to help with those eyebrows.” your boyfriend jerked his head up at that, “What's wrong with my eyebrows?”

“Nothing” you smiled while walking away.

“Y/N wait!”

Truthfully there was nothing wrong with his eyebrows, or anything in his face for that matter. But since he wanted to tease you, you decided it would be best to tease him back.

After walking around more, soon you both had made it over to the fragrance section. 

“Jack smell this for me, baby,” you said, spraying some in the air. “It smells nice mama, but don't you already have a full shelf of perfumes already?”

“I'm sorry Jackman Thomas Harlow, are you judging me right now? Me? After you just disrespected and hurt my feelings?”

“Of course not, baby.” 

“That's what I thought, cause let me say something about your big ass box of Pokemon cards-” you started off

“You made your point”

“Mhm,” you smirked. 

Soon you were basically done with your shopping and you and your boyfriend were heading towards the register. While on your way you passed by a new collection by one of your favorite brands.  “OMG POOKS LOOK '' you yelped. He stood behind you watching you pick up every single product in pure enjoyment.

“I know I probably went over budget but baby please” you pleaded.

“Go ahead” he frowned jokingly.

You shoved everything into your basket and both of you headed towards the cashier. 

“Your total is $630.50, will you be doing cash or card sir?” the lady behind the counter smiled, handing her hand out.

You looked up at Jack ready for him to tell you to put some stuff back, but instead he smiled to himself and took his card out.  

“Thank you for shopping with us today!” the lady smiled(a little too hard in your opinion)

After getting settled in the car you looked up at him and frowned. 

“Pooks I went over my budget, why’d you still pay?” 

“You really thought you had a budget? Baby I would’ve bought the whole store for you if you had wanted it.” He laughed

“Wow so you really had your girlfriend in there doing calculations, knowing damn well I’m bad at math, trying to save your money?” You crossed your arms.

“Yes and it was adorable watching you.” He smiled teasing you.

“You're lucky, you're cute.” You smile, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Thank you for spending your money on me though,” you mumbled in between kisses on his cheek. 

“I’m always going to do  whatever I can to see those pretty dimples.” That made you smile even more. 

“And plus, I really do feel bad about what I said baby, I’ll do anything to make you happy honestly.” 

“Thank you pooks” you smiled showing your dimples. 

As he started driving you started rummaging through your 8 full bags sitting by your feet. 

“So when are you gonna apply some of that Nair though?”

That earned him a hard smack to the back of the head and a mean glare.

“Too early?”

[rpstartersinc]

* 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝟑: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏.

feel free to change pronouns / wording! potential spoilers!

" we have been apart for far too long. "

" seems as though your business is thriving. "

" there's no need to shout. "

" you've gotten rather good. "

" do you not wish to greet me? "

" i was nowhere and everywhere. "

" the lack of interest here today shall usher me to an early grave at any moment. "

" i simply could use some peace. "

" the truth has a way of rearing its ugly head. "

" i take it you are finally done with daydreaming? "

" do you find yourself back in town for any particular reason? in search of something or... someone? "

" i do not wish to see a citrus colour, ever again. "

" you have never been one for silly romances. "

" a man cannot tell his secrets. "

" i have kept your secret exactly because i do not wish to keep revisiting the past. "

" i must make a good impression. "

" i wonder what whistledown will write about next issue. "

" what a striking gown you have on. "

" i should like a moment alone. "

" once one finds oneself on the wall, it is difficult to come off it. "

" you do not much like attracting notice, do you? "

" it is a pity you did not choose something sturdier. "

" if you are going to make me say it out loud, i miss you. "

" what you did was cruel, and unnecessary. "

" i'm sorry for intruding. "

" it pains me to see you upset. "

" if a husband is what you seek, then... let me help you. "

" what i have learned is that charm can be taught. "

" i do love a game, especially when i am so often the victor. "

" i do not fear change, i embrace it. "

" i do not care what lady whistledown writes about me. "

" i should like to see your skills as they are, first. "

" i suggest you make good use of it. "

" you agree, i am unteachable. "

" you already know how to do this. "

" it is impossible to be in society and not care what others think. "

" do you think me a magician? "

" we needed a place to be alone. "

" you don't have to be embarrassed, you know me. "

" that's exactly why i will feel even more embarrassed, because i know you. "

" somehow my character gets lost between my heart and my mouth, and i find myself saying the wrong thing or more likely nothing at all. "

" your eyes are the most remarkable shade of blue. yet, somehow, they shine even brighter when you are kind. "

" your writing... it is very good. "

" they've taken to hunting in packs. "

" you know, whenever i have a disagreement with an acquaintance, i find the best course of action is simply to pretend they are dead. "

" talents? no. unless you consider a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time a talent. "

" now i can stuff my mouth with chocolates without fear of appearing impolite. "

" i do not much care for idle gossip. "

" i think i am somehow afraid i will do something wrong. "

" despite the cover of night, there are still eyes upon us all at all times. "

" what is foolish is being unreasonable about what you can achieve. "

" men can often cause much more trouble than they are worth. "

" i bribed her to give us a minute alone. "

" a small taste of the light can lead to that most dangerous of emotions: hope. "

" once hope is lost, a lady may become reckless. "

" would you kiss me? "

" i do not wish to die without ever having been kissed. "

" i apologise for the late hour, but i had to see you, immediately. "

" you occupy my every thought. "

" you slept late. "

" i slept peacefully. "

" a week sequestered in your room, and you come down and you say this to me? "

" i noticed you have not been seen in society for some time. "

" i would certainly rather be predator than prey. "

" i think i see a corner in which to hide myself. "

" you must simply follow your heart. "

" it is the mark of a good man, to help a friend in need. "

" unfortunately, i require all pity for myself. "

" i find your frankness immensely refreshing. "

" is there some reason you are trying to escape civilisation? "

" we can do whatever we want. "

" i have heard a great deal about you. "

" that was a thrilling distraction, was it not? "

" it was a good thing no one was injured. "

" a man can be pensive, can he not? "

" i am in awe of your heroism. "

" some cannot help being heroes. "

" in need of some quiet? i have been in search of it all night. "

" perhaps we can enjoy the silence together. "

" well, then you have misjudged me. "

" i am not afraid of you. "

" courage is within us all. "

" as long as we are honest with ourselves and about our feelings, it is possible to do anything. "

" the person i was earlier today... i was pretending to be someone i am not. "

" how many yous are there, exactly? and where do you hide them all? "

" i have come to call on you. "

" i do not wish to be called on. "

" step another pace backwards, you read me too well. "

" i do not wish to interfere. "

" i cannot have you growing distracted. "

" i do not mind a stirring tale or a book of fact but, in truth i find myself drawn back time and time again to stories of... love. "

" i do not believe i have ever had a friend call to the house before. "

" a gentleman must keep some things to himself. "

" do not tell me you are holding out for love. "

" love is make-believe. "

" do you know what is romantic? security. "

" i am grateful to you, for keeping me company. "

" past lives are dangerous places to revisit. "

" if you need to keep your distance from me a while, i understand. "

" you are unlike many people. "

" i do not feel much like talking. "

" i am not a man of many words. "

" my work has such a large portion of my heart it may be difficult to make more space. "

" i cannot stand by and watch you make a mistake. "

" the only mistake was me ever asking for your help in the first place. "

" it is said that the heart is forever making the head its fool. "

" will you please let us ride home in silence and leave me alone. "

" what if i did have feelings for you? "

" i have spent so long trying to feel less. "

" these past few weeks have been full of confounding feelings, feelings like a total inability to stop thinking about you. "

" do not say things you do not mean. "

" do you think anyone saw us? "

" are you going to marry me or not? "

[early20sfailingplenty]

Lowkey, I want to see Vincent go insane because his s/o got hurt by a tourist. It’s just something about scary men who get pissed that their partner gets hurt and stops at nothing but get revenge is so 🥰🥰

I love the thought of this!

TW; canon-typical violence, discussion of canon events, dehumanisation of Dalton and Wade (canon-compliant), Bo pukes (unrelated to canon events - I'm not that strong lmfao)

I've always thought that Dalton and Wade got especially brutal deaths because of one simple fact: they messed around in Vincent's House of Wax. It's his domain, it's clear as crystal; it's his hunting ground, it's where he prepares and then displays the best of his trophies.

The House of Wax is his; Wade feigning to burn one of the sculptures was a genuinely asshole move (seriously, who the fuck sees someone else's hard work and starts melting it? Fucking ass) and earned him a place in the House of Wax; he mocked Vincent's work, so Vincent turned him into the very thing as a petty revenge.

Dalton, for his part, destroyed Vincent's latest project, tore the face off of his still cooling artwork and I don't know about you, but if I spend hours making something and then someone deliberately started messing with it, I'd be more than slightly murderous too.

(Though, in Dalton's defence, if I looked up and saw Vincent looming over me like that, I'd lose my head and squirt all over the floor too - I get it, dude).

All this to say... Vincent went apeshit on these two kids because they messed around in his domain. He's possessive, obsessive, deeply passionate and always in control of what he's doing. When Vincent puts his mind to something, he is ruthless and there's absolutely no stopping him.

So now imagine what he'd do, the acts of sheer depravity he'd perform, if his beloved got harmed? He'd be so vicious, so genuinely unhinged, that when Bo later sees what happened to the people he sent Vincent's way, the remains of the bodies would have him stomping outside to throw up in Lester's rose bushes, and even Lester would have to literally scrape them up off the floor with whatever gardening implement he can find. A shovel, maybe. A bucket of water to sluice them away would also work.

There's roadkill, there's roadkill, and then there's... whatever the fuck Vincent did to these people.

There's blood dripping off his twin blades, his overalls are caked in it, he's squelching somewhat in his worn boots as he walks, there's viscera splattered across the wax floor, and somehow there's blood on the ceiling... you know not to ask. But Bo's an interesting shade of porcelain you've never seen before, and even Lester can hardly bear to look.

And you? You're off to the side nursing your injury; nothing life-threatening, and later on you'll be joking with Bo, "'tis but a scratch", but Vincent's reaction has you feeling more than a little loved. Safe, protected, cherished, by the most relentless and brutal of the three Sinclair brothers.

[forest-hashira]

Butterflies

i have no chill so yes i'm back with a new fic a week after the last one. idk how or why i'm like this so don't ask. this is my second entry for @threadbaresweater's "summertime (and the livin' is easy)" collab event! my chosen prompt for this one was geto + botanical gardens. this got away from me literally in the first sentence AHAHA.

read on ao3 | wc: ~1.8k | cw: gender neutral reader, first date, minor miscommunication, both suguru and reader are bashful as hell and have been crushing for a while, several types of bugs are mentioned towards the end, but i think that's everything!

When Suguru had invited you to visit the local botanical gardens with him, you’d accepted without much thought, assuming that all your other friends would be there, too. You’d all spent nearly every waking moment together since the weather had gotten warm enough and the days had gotten long enough to spend more time outside, so it seemed like a foregone conclusion that this was going to be another one of those days.

You were quite mistaken.

Suguru was standing alone outside the front gates waiting for you, and while he was usually the first person to arrive whenever you all got together, Shoko, Utahime, or Kento usually weren’t far behind and consistently arrived before you did, so you were a bit surprised.

“Is everyone else on their way?” you asked as you approached, one hand above your brows to block the sun from your eyes as you looked up at him; you’d forgotten your sunglasses, again, something Satoru teased you about constantly. Even with the small amount of shade your hand afforded you, you squinted a bit up at your friend. His hair was pulled fully up into a bun, a hairstyle he didn’t wear as frequently as he did when you were all in high school, but with a heatwave rolling through the area, you weren’t exactly surprised he wanted all that hair off his skin.

After a moment you realized the sun was creating a sort of halo around him. Like an angel, you thought to yourself. He��s certainly pretty enough to be one. The thought caught you off guard, and you hoped it wasn’t obvious that you’d grown flustered by your own thoughts; you didn’t need him finding out about the crush you’d been harboring on him since you were teenagers, especially when no one else was there to save you from yourself.

His brows pinched in confusion, and he cocked his head ever so slightly to the right. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

“Satoru and Shoko and everyone,” you said, now feeling a bit confused yourself. “Are they just running late? Usually at least Kento is waiting with you by the time I show up.”

A look of understanding crossed his face then, and his face visibly reddened. “Ah,” he sighed, looking away from you and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s uh. It’s just us, actually. Sorry, I thought you knew that when you accepted the invitation.” 

“...Oh,” you uttered intelligently, feeling your own face beginning to heat as well, and not just from the sun beating down on you. It never occurred to you that Suguru would want to spend any alone time with you, away from the group; not that you didn’t get along without everyone else – you definitely did, you were just usually around the rest of your friend group – but the occasion for one on one time hadn’t arisen since you’d been partnered for assignments in school.

“We don’t have to go in,” Suguru offered gently, meeting your gaze again. “We can pretend this never happened. Or we can see if anyone else wants to join, I know Satoru’s not doing anything today.” When all you did was blink dumbly up at him, he looked away again, staring down at his feet. “I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

That brought you back to yourself, and you shook your head vehemently. “No!” you burst out, then cringed at your own raised volume and squeaky voice. “I-I mean, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. We can still go in. I looked this place up when you invited me, and I really want to see their pollinator sanctuary.”

Suguru’s shoulders dropped in relief at your words, and his small smile returned almost instantly. “I’d like that.”

As he turned and headed towards the gates, you followed barely a half step behind. You started to pull out your wallet as you drew closer to the ticket booth, but Suguru stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told you. “I bought our tickets already.”

His words had your face burning yet again, and you looked away sheepishly. “Thanks.” You followed him up to the gates, pausing long enough for the gate attendant to scan the tickets Suguru had bought – he’d printed them out, so the employee didn’t have to try and scan his phone screen, which struck as so distinctly Suguru that it made your heart flutter, though you’d never admit that to another human being.

Tickets now scanned, the pair of you were free to explore the grounds at your own pace. Ever the planner, your friend led you over to the large standing map. “Do you want to start with the pollinators?” he asked. “Or would you rather save that for the grand finale?”

Taking a few moments to consider, you looked over the map; the grounds were bigger than you thought, and you knew with the sun beating down on you, it wouldn’t be long before you were tired of the heat and ready to go somewhere with cold drinks and air conditioning. “Let’s do that first,” you said after a bit. “I don’t wanna run the risk of missing them because they’re hiding from the heat.”

Suguru nodded easily in agreement with your words. “I think that sounds like a good idea,” he confirmed. When he reached up and started tracing a path on the map from the “YOU ARE HERE” sticker to the pollinator sanctuary, you couldn’t help but watch, his hand making the sections of the map look smaller than they actually were. 

“It looks like we need to go this way,” he said quietly, and though you couldn’t quite tell if he was speaking to you or just thinking aloud, his words were enough to bring you back to yourself. “The pollinators are near the back, but this section with the trees should be pretty shaded for the walk back. What do you think?”

He turned to face you then, head tilted ever so slightly as he waited to hear your answer, oblivious to the way you’d been ogling his hand. You blinked dumbly for a moment, processing his words as you did your best not to make a fool of yourself.

“That sounds good, yeah,” you agreed sheepishly. “This way, right?”

When he nodded, you turned and made your way down the path, Suguru at your side. He was right, the path he’d chosen was pretty well shaded from the sun, offering you a bit of relief as you walked. The pace you maintained was steady; you weren’t rushing by any means, but you were eager to see the pollinator sanctuary, so you were walking a little faster than you normally might have.

Birds chirped overhead, singing to each other as they hopped from branch to branch, and the sound made you smile; summer wasn’t necessarily your favorite of the seasons, but right now the pros were definitely outweighing the cons.

“Thank you,” the raven haired man said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, and you looked up at him in slight confusion.

“For what?”

“For agreeing to come here with me,” he said simply. Then, looking a little bashful again, he added, “And for not freaking out on me when I told you it was just us after you got here.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. “I was happy to accept your invitation. And I’d never freak out on you for something like that, y’know. You’re easy to be around, and if nobody else is here it means I actually get to appreciate your presence.”

“You make a good point. Satoru does tend to demand to be the center of attention when we’re all together, doesn’t he?” A soft smile painted his lips as he spoke, and his words made you giggle a bit.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “He does.” 

Conversation was easy after that, talking about everything and nothing all at the same time, but it felt so good to talk with him; to spend time with him without anyone else around, something you rarely got to do, and never felt like you could suggest yourself until now. Now, though, you were sure you’d be spending a lot more one on one time with your companion.

“Oh, what was it that Satoru was trying to explain the other day? He kept comparing it to digi…mon…” you trailed off mid sentence as you stepped out from under the trees, completely forgetting what you’d been saying as you saw the pollinator sanctuary unfolding before you. Your steps slowed, and you looked around with wide eyes, taking in the sight of all the insects flitting between the brightly colored flowers: the honey bees climbing out of blooms covered in pollen; hummingbird moths hovering as they sipped before zipping to the next flower; bumblebees droning through the air; butterflies flitting from plant to plant.

Suguru slowed to keep pace beside you, and unbeknownst to you, he was looking at you far more intently than anything else in the garden. He paused for a moment, letting you walk a bit ahead of him as he admired you. As he watched, a few butterflies flew closer, dancing around your head as they came to investigate the scent of your shampoo. You stilled, though your eyes were wide as you tried to watch what was happening above you. One by one, about half a dozen butterflies landed in your hair, almost forming a crown around your head, making you look like some sort of nature spirit.

“You’re beautiful,” Suguru blurted out, and the sudden compliment startled you a bit. You turned back to face him quickly enough that all the butterflies went fluttering off again, now that they knew you were not, in fact, a flower.

“Huh?”

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, though a bit more bashfully this time. “I’ve always thought that, y’know? I just didn’t want to make things weird between us by telling you that.” He closed the distance between you as he spoke, and he offered you a sheepish little smile. “I hope it’s okay that I’m telling you now, though.”

“Yeah,” you murmured back, smiling just as bashfully in return. “That’s more than okay. You’re beautiful, too, actually. I’ve always thought that.”

A small laugh bubbled out of Suguru at your words, and his expression grew impossibly more fond. “I’m glad we’re on the same page about that, then,” he mused. He was quiet for a moment then, his dark eyes contemplative, before he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

The touch surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome. You felt your face burn a bit more as he pulled away, but your smile only brightened as you looked up at him.

He smiled back just as brightly, and as he spoke again, he took your hand and laced your fingers together gently. “Do you want to keep going?” “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

taglist: @mitsuristoleme @kentohours @peachdues @ghost-1-y @witchbybirth

@marinnnnnnnnn @dr-runs-with-scissors @enchantedforest-network

divider by saradika-graphics

[chochuuya]

tending to his wounds.

scenario with (a few) tr boys! ヾ(・ω・*)

"no... no it's okay," he reassures quietly.

he doesn't want to complain that you're being a little too rough with his wounds. he's already bothering you enough, he thought. still can't comprehend the fact that you're so nice to him, despite always getting into fights.

he can still remember the first time you tended to his wounds. his heart just flutters every time he thinks of the sweet memory.

you with him? it's almost like a black cat and golden retriever sort of situation. who's who? i don't even know.

"it's okay." you mocked him.

"liar. you're clearly hurt. always fighting and then asking me to patch you up. i already told you to not get into fights, babe. or maybe lessen it a little..?" you rambled on and on while cleaning up the wounds on his knuckles.

"i'm fine," he grumbled back. while it may be true that he's hurting, he's far too stubborn to admit it. he doesn't like showing his weaknesses to anyone, especially not someone as sweet as you.

his mind goes into a frenzy when he hears your pet name for him, causing him to turn an embarrassing shade of red.

"babe..?" he mutters under his breath.

you look up to him with an eyebrow raised. "what's wrong?"

"n-nothing." he quickly changes his facial expression so that he no longer looks all red and flustered. his heart rate immediately slows, although it is still pumping at a much faster rate than before.

"just thinking, that's all," he added.

you thought about it and quickly realized as you pressed your lips together and shutting your eyes in shame.

damn it. why and how did that slipped out?!

"shoot, sorry. it's a habit."

he didn't expect you to apologize. his eyebrows shoot up and he tilts his head slightly.

"sorry... for what exactly? calling me babe?" he asks curiously, taking in the fact that you, in fact, used a nickname for him.

"uh, yeah." you quickly stick on the bandaids and stand up from your chair.

"okay, all done!"

he notices that you don't look nearly as embarrassed as he is. this causes him to blush even harder and his face looks like a tomato. he watches you stand up, not really knowing how to react.

"wait, where are you going?" he asks quietly, not wanting you to leave.

"going home obviously, it's almost 5." you say nonchalantly as you put your backpack on.

"alright.." he mutters as his eyebrows furrow, watching you put your bag on. while he tries to contain his emotions, something slips out.

"do you maybe wanna hangout after school one day..?" he asks in what he thinks is a casual manner, but is actually full of nervous glances your way.

hm, maybe this is the start of something new. wink wonk

RINDOU, chifuyu, mitsuya, inui, BAJI, angry, akkun, draken, your fav ♡

please do not steal, copy, translate, repost to other sites or claim my writings as your own. plagiarism is real!

just imagining rindou acting this way makes my heart ache (-ω-、) i hope you enjoyed reading this~ reblogs & likes are always appreciated!! ♡

[southerngothicchic]

18+

Steve's always had a bit of an ego, especially during sex. He wants to hear just how good he's making his girl feel. He's used to being with vocal partners, so when you and him had sex, for the first time, he was taken aback by how quiet you were. He was so used to girls moaning in his ear, their nails clawing his back, only to have you barely making a sound.

He didn't want to say anything, at first, because he wanted you to feel comfortable with him. After the next few times, though, he couldn't help himself. Old insecurities plagued him, making him think you weren't that into him. That thought crushed him, as you were the first girl in forever that he's actually felt something for.

"How's it feel, angel?" He breathily asks, as he slowly fucks you.

You didn't respond, at first, biting your lip at his question.

"C'mon honey, I need to know if you're ok," he adds, gazing down at you.

"I am," you finally reply.

"I can stop if you want..."

"No, please don't," you plead. "I'm sorry, I'm just not-"

"Hey," he softly interrupts, his hand cradling your face. "You don't need to apologize for anything. I just wanna hear those pretty sounds you make just for me."

You smile up at him, before he leans in to kiss you.

"Will you let me hear you, angel?" He asks, against your lips.

You nod, still timid, unsure if you'll be able to do what he wants.

He presses his lips to yours once more and kisses you slowly. You feel yourself melting into him, or rather him melting into you.

He starts moving his hips again, but doesn't break the kiss. You whimper into it as his thrusts are faster now.

"That's it honey," he praises, pulling away so he can hear you.

"S-Steve..." you gasp, your hands moving from his hair, to his shoulders.

"Feeling good?"

You nod, then force yourself to say, "Yes..."

"Yeah? What if I fuck you nice and hard?" He breathlessly asks, his hair flopping onto his sweaty forehead.

You moan in response, making him smirk.

"Still good, honey?"

"Yes, God..." you breathe, closing your eyes and throwing your head back against the pillow.

"You feel so fuckin good, so wet...always so wet for me," he pants, while you bite your lip.

The sounds of his grunts and moans fill the room as he chases his release. Little whimpers escape your lips, but you're not being as loud as he wants.

"If I don't hear you honey, I'm gonna pull out..." he breathily threatens. "Is that what you want?"

"No, no, Steve, please..." you beg, your hands gripping his biceps.

"Then I wanna hear you scream for me," he breathes, before kissing you roughly.

You moan into it, your nails digging into his skin, as he fucks you. He pulls away, his focus turning to your neck. You cry his name when he sinks his teeth into your shoulder.

"That's better," he praises, against your damp skin.

With the way his hips are snapping against yours and how deep he was with every harsh thrust, you finally gave him what he craved.

His name pours from your lips, throat almost sore from how you scream for him.

"Oh, honey...fuck," he rasps, burying his face in your neck.

You repeatedly sigh his name, making him growl in approval.

He then moans your name into your skin as he's finally sent over the edge. His climax leads to yours, as you're crying for him, all over again.

Once you each regain yourselves, he presses kisses all over your face, praising you for being his pretty, perfect girl.

"You did so good for me, angel," he smiles, his nose brushing yours.

You also smile, your cheeks turning a deeper shade of crimson from his praise.

"You always wanna be my good, little angel, don't you?"

"I do," you eagerly answer, gazing into his eyes.

"That's my girl," he grins, before kissing you deeply.

[datcravat]

HI HELLO I love your art So much,,, do you have any tutorials on how you render your stuff? For example, the colors you use & how you pick them, how you get that pink tone around the Lineart (I think) (it's just rly cool). I would love to see stuff like that, cuz your art is Such visual candy (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Hey! Thank you so much, I'm glad you like my art, I worked hard to make it what it is!! Means a lot you appreciate it!!!!!!

I've had no professional art training, I seriously don't know what I'm doing and struggle making tutorials. But will try here!!

For me the colour work is really situational on the drawing! I find myself experimentally attempting to weaponize colour theory and there's a lot of instinct involved that I can't figure out how to verbalise yet. Here's an example of some thought process I have:

My main advice is to play with sliders a lot and really experiment (that's what I do for every drawing)!

To get the pink glow around your lineart, copy your lineart layer, fill the copy in with a pink of your choice (sometimes I do a gradient), blur the layer (experiment with how much blur you'd like), put it directly below the lineart layer, and set the layer to multiply (or any mode you think looks pretty)!

You may want to adjust your piece's brightness/colours after applying it and sharpen the image after exporting.

A lot of colour gradients are involved and on their own they can eventually compromise the gritty/punchy style, especially the ones that are between extreme and subtle. A good way to combat this is with screentones/haftones!! You can use them to diversify colours and imply shading/texture.

I recommend going nuts and having a lot of fun with it to find what works for you!

I often add a lot of small lens flares as they satisfyingly cut through the piece, imply flash photography (which goes well with the strong black shading), add visual noise to areas you don't want to be your main point of focus, are a great way to show speculars, and idk man sparkles are just pretty haha.

Go nuts with them and have fun!! When you get them to look good, think to yourself why that is.

I made a tutorial ~1 year ago on how I shade with black. This simple trick will really help it look good, 3D and rendered - it just requires a lot of knowledge about shadows to start with. I have a lot of experience rendering "normally" which helped me learn how to use black in an experimental way.

Minor correction that the shadows labelled "ambient occlusion" in the tutorial are actually just normal shadows, ambient occlusion is total lack of light.

I hope this is useful to you!! You have a knack for art, your work is very inspired. Please keep drawing!! I am still learning too, let's keep going baby.

-Cravat x

[sofiareidings]

Coffee Runs

Summary: The guy who's been coming to the cafe you work at finally asked why you've never called him by his name.

A/N: I'm sorry this story is so late, especially since I missed Monday's post. School has been so busy this week and I've also had a bunch if extracurricular lately. I'll try and be more on time from now on (Don't hold me to that) Also! I got the idea for this one shot from @hanllo-kitty

Word Count: 0.8k

Song Suggestions: Invisible String - Taylor Swift

It was a good job, a great job really. The cafe was in a nicer part of town and people would subconsciously give nice tips so your pay was good. Rarely were customers terrible. Most people that came in were students or really busy people rushing in and going.

There were a few regulars. Like Joe, Joe was an eighty year old man who came in everyday for a coffee and a sandwich. While he waited he would talk about the lotto numbers and how his kids were doing. There was also Lola, she was a journalist who spent most of her day sitting in the corner of the cafe while refilling the same cup until closing.

But there was only one regular you would think about while getting ready for work.

Come on, I don't know his name. Don't shoot the messenger.

He'd been coming in for the past three months almost everyday, right after the cafe opened for a coffee. He always looked a little tired and acted like it too. He barely made conversation and normally shuffled out of the store in the same fashion as the other overworked people; quickly.

You hadn't learned his name yet. He always seemed to forget to say it when you asked, which resulted in you making up something.

"Guy with the sweater vest!"

"Guy in the purple!"

"Guy with the scarf!"

You get the point.

He was your favourite regular because of his looks. God, even when he was incredibly sleep deprived he looked beautiful. He had brown hair that fell just below his sharp jaw. Brown eyes that always happened to be in the light from the cafe window, making the small gold flakes in his eyes shine. He was normally dressed in a sweater vest and neutral pants, he probably worked at some type of office. The one part of him that stood out in his outfits were his converse, odd for the rest of his outfit. You could've sworn a few times you saw brightly coloured mismatched socks.

***

The sound of the cafe bell echoed through the nearly empty shop, having only opened half an hour ago. Smiling in the direction of the person walking in you quickly noticed it was 'Guy with *whatever he had on*" who came in. Something was different, he had thick glasses on. That was new.

"Hey, just the regular coffee and donut?" You put the order into the computer, looking back up at him. Taking in the new look.

"Yeah, thanks." His lips creased into a line, you called it a tired smile, the same one he made everyday. He handed over his money and poured the change into the tip jar then stepped back to wait for his order.

A couple minutes later you came back to the counter with his order. "Guy with the glasses!"

He did his usual, smiled and grabbed his order saying bye. But just when he reached the threshold of the door he paused and turned. "Why do you do that?"

Having already turned around you paused, this was the first time he'd talked to you in a clear voice. You weren't really sure what he meant. "Do what? Did I get your order wrong?"

He cleared his throat and seemed a little frustrated. "You never say my name, you just call me guy with something. Is it just to annoy me?"

"What? No, you've just never told me your name." Laughing a little, realising the misunderstanding.

"I didn't?" His face changed to confusion, "Oh my gosh, I didn't." He realised his mistake then his face flushed a shade of red.

"Don't worry, it's okay. Guy with the glasses." You laughed, looking around the cafe for a minute, strange it was still pretty empty.

"I am so sorry, I thought I told you and you just wanted to annoy me. I feel like a jerk, you seem so nice." Genuinely sorry he apologised profusely. "Can I make it up to you?"

Deciding to take the chance, you'd been daydreaming about this guy for months. "Well, maybe you could take me on a date." A little shocked by your own boldness, your face went up like twelve degrees.

"Uh, yeah…" He trailed off, clearly flustered. "Yeah, I would really like that."

"Well then, it's a date." You beamed, internally jumping up and down out of excitement. Since when were you so forward? He made that smile he made everyday before turning towards the door again.

That's when you realised.

"Wait!" You shouted, louder than you expected. Causing your coworker to drop a cup. "You still haven't told me your name."

"It's Spencer. I'll make sure to be back tomorrow." He nodded again and chuckled lightly before finally walking through the door.

God could tomorrow morning come any quicker.

[devondespresso]

FINALLY

after NINE. HOURS. (NOT including meals and sleep) ITS FUCKING DONE.

A complete floorplan of the entire Harrington house. Including too much thought about random, throw-away lines from characters and squint-to-see-it background glimpses inside.

plently of stuff in the actual house is altered or straight up ignored in favor of following the fiction logic and because I Wanted To. A lot of this is motivated by my headcanons for the Harringtons and how I'm writing them in my fic, but I'm also certainly not an architect so it's by no means perfect. It is, however, unreasonably canon compliant in the few bits we do see.

Thought Process (for context):

the darker shaded floor areas are lower than the rest, some bits like the garages having stairs and some areas like the sun and dining rooms list being like a step lower. Windows are marked with dashes along the outside, sliding doors are two thin lines slightly overlapping, stairs change color as they diverge from the level we're looking at, and furniture is eyeballed so don't look to closely a the scale.

not all closets are labeled, just the ones i figured could be confusing. Steve and the guest rooms have closets i promise.

the laundry room and pantry are not the same size but by the time i noticed i was exhausted. so pretend they're both more reasonably sized.

i don't know what the floorplan symbol for garage door is and then i forgot to look so the headlights point to where the doors are and you can see them clearly in photos so yeah.

The general layout is based on the idea that the Harringtons are or were into hosting dinner parties and business meetings in their home, especially as a young rich couple looking for respect in their circles (Mr. Harrington taking on his father's business and reinforcing that power, Mrs. Harrington climbing her own social ladder and building an image).

So the house is laid out with hosting areas towards the right with the office big and near the dining room because it's more than just a workplace, it represents him as a businessman. In canon the entryway and living room both have very high ceilings and no second-floor above them, so I'd imagine they're also aware of how the top floor looks from below, hence the fancy double/french doors to the master bedroom which is in plain view from below. Steve's room and the guest room are's nearly as visible.

As for the kitchen and sun/pool rooms, I see them more as secondary hosting areas that aren't used as the main location most of the time and are more this background setting to these events that still feel rich. The kitchen is massive and mostly for dinner-parties and Mrs. Harrington's social events.

The kitchen and main bathroom's placement is based on a line Steve said to Barb giving her directions to the bathroom: "down past the kitchen, to the left". With the massive living room on the left and wanting to keep the dining and office close by, i interpreted the "to the left" part being like "find the kitchen, then turn left". And with the rest of the area being open-concept, the bathroom would be the only normal door over there and easy to find. it's a bit of a stretch with just that line, but it makes sense to me with the rest of the context for the layout.

the basement is similar to this, though not as openly displayed so I imagine its for slightly closer friends. Theres a garage door down there so I figured Mr. Harrington might have a cool car he shows off, like he's letting people in on a personal detail about himself. There's also a guest room down there (the only one still considered 100% for guests, more on that later) for those people.

beside the basement garage, there was originally one main garage that holds two cars, obvious Mr. and Mrs. Harrington's cars. I imagine they bought the house before having kids, so a third one wasn't on the mind but after having Steve they added the front one (either turning the carport into a closed garage or they never had a carport and added a whole new addition, up to you)

Both garages lead to the same part of the house, and that area is the only one besides the water heater room that is purely function over effect. It still looks good like the rest of the house but it's not made to be fancy because guests would rarely need to be over there if at all and it's not noteworthy from other parts of the house.

In my headcanon, Steve's room used to be a guest room, staying his room from nursery to present with Mrs. Harrington renovating every now and then. Its one of those places in the house that doesn't have to look perfect for all to see, so she gets creative and has fun with it.

The upstairs guest room is also unofficially Mrs. Harrington's room, based on a line where Tommy mentions a fireplace in "his mom's room" instead of "guest room" or "parent's room" or "master bedroom". I belatedly realized this could be a solidarity thing with Steve hating his dad and calling the master bedroom his mom's room, but that was after 9 hours of this and im not changing it but there you go. In this version, I imagine she leaves the master some nights because her marriage with Mr. Harrington is failing (cheating and all, I wouldn't want to be in the same bed with someone who cheated either)

the master bathroom was an executive decision, just looking at the house in canon and not having enough space in my first attempts, i decided the triangle roof part above the dining and office could fit a master bathroom.

Feel free to use or reference this in your own fics! Feel free to block out my furniture or walls and make your own version. If you share my image please credit with an @ mention!! (again, 9 hours) (thank you fhalsfhd)