#wanted to play around with the suit colors and patterns a bit

[eevee-in-a-flower-crown]

We don’t argue with the coin…

[lostinlovingrevery]

I loved lonely!reader, you write angst so good, she was so vulnerable. Can you write a reader with a sad past? Also lonely but add abusive parents who gave her the silent treatment, who took her childhood away. And now she is with Oldman!Logan, in a healthy and beautiful relationship where she can free her inner child, maybe he’s a little old to keep up with her but he comforts her, helps her do her hair all pretty with the bows she always wanted as a kid… you can change anything you want, your writing is amazing

Pretty Bows and Pretty Dresses

Old Man Logan X F! Reader

The teddy bear plush is a little too big.

A/N: Thank you!! Also this didn't come out as angsty, but it's implied so I hope that's okay! God Logan is so yummy...I love the idea of him becoming so soft and romantic when he's got someone. Maybe life is rough but he has you <3 Hope you like this!

Warnings: Fluff! mention of past abuse, Logan being a softie and supportive, reader seems to have a lil anxiety, random woman mistakes your relationship, but you reassure Logan, just supportiveness and love in general.

"Looking beautiful doll."

He admired you from the doorway, arms crossed and leaned against the frame. You smiled at him in the mirror, as you fluffed out your new dress a bit more.

"Yeah? It's not too much?"

His eyes trailed up and down your figure, admiring the dress and more. A faint, tired smile across his face, as he shakes his head. The dress was pretty, with a ruffled skirt that reaches your knees and hugs your waist, a floral pattern painted of baby's breath flowers, and the dress in your favorite color.

"It's perfect on you." He says, pushing himself up from the door frame. You turned your head to smile at him directly; a smile that makes his old heart skip a beat, before looking back at the mirror as you kept fiddling with the dress.

"I don't know, maybe it's too much." You shook your head, as you bring your hands together, slowly picking at your nails.

"Hey." He speaks up gently, now at your side, he gently takes your hand- stopping you from picking your freshly manicured nails. Also painted with your favorite color. "It's beautiful. You're beautiful." He reassures, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it as he looks into your eyes.

You chew on your lip and look at it in the mirror again. "I just saw it at the store today and I thought it was so pretty and I...Bought it. On impulse. I didn't even think."

"Nothing to think about if you like it." He says, and you glanced back to him. "Fits ya nicely, color suits ya." He lifts your arm, encouraging your to twirl. You obliged, a shy smile spreading across your face. Sensing your amusement, he has you do it again. "There we go. Very nice." He nods with approval.

You giggled, as he then begins to play with the fabric, tugging at the sleeves and collar, his hand sliding down over your hip as he feels how the dress fits onto your body. He hums appreciatively, as he now looks up at the area of your bosom.

"Yeah....very nice."

"Lo-" You giggled, playfully hitting him and he smirks. "You're supporting my bad habits-"

"Bad habit? No no sweetheart." He put an arm around your waist, pulling you close. "I, am the definition of bad habits. This...Is just you getting something you like. Ain't nothing bad about that."

Your expression turned into something softer. "Really?"

"Yeah." He says with sincerity. "You saw something, liked it, and got it. Ain't nothing wrong with that....I mean, I did the same thing when I saw you."

You giggled, your face scrunching into joy as heat bloomed in your cheeks. You turned your face away from him, but he gently put a finger under your chin, pushing you to look back at him. He quirked a brow, waiting, and you leaned up to give him a peck on the lips, a small giggle escaping you as his salt-and-pepper beard tickled your skin.

"Mm." He hums from the kiss, he smacked his lips, brows creasing as he tipped his chin back examining you. "You wearing the strawberry flavored chapstick today?"

"Strawberry Shortcake, technically." You correct him, he opens his mouth in realization before nodding in understanding. He leaned forward to kiss you again, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you stood up on your tiptoes. You continued speaking when you parted "It's one amongst the other things I bought on my little...spree I guess."

"Oh yeah? Let's see what you got."

Your eyes lightened at his comment, and you stepped away from him to grab the shopping bag that rest on your bed. You opened it and dug out a few things. A pack of chapstick with different flavors- and some kind of cartoon characters he wasn't familiar with, a pack of bows, various colors and sizes, a pair of earrings, a candle, some makeup, and finally a small journal paired with multi-set glitter pens.

He stepped over to the bed, observing the items, and his hand rested on your back. A small smile,

"Doll, you call this a spree?"

"What?" You looked up at him in confusion. He chuckled, pulling you closer into his side.

"This is a treat, not a spree."

"Wha-" You stammered. "I spent 30 bucks! Not including this dress."

He chuckled. "You deserve much more. As nice as this stuff is. The bows?" He reached out grabbing the pack, and observing them. Embarrassment became evident on your face.

"I...Thought they would look cute in my hair." You say, leaning into his side, turning your head to bury in his shirt, he put an arm around your shoulders, his hand gently squeezing your bicep.

"Yeah? They would." He grins, his thumb rubbing over the satin fabric of the bows.

"I always wanted them. When I was little." You looked up at him. "For my hair. I thought they were so pretty. I mean maybe it's silly-"

"it's not." He says firmly. "They'll suit you." He turned to look at your other stuff.

"What about the journal?"

"I...." You moved your head to look at the journal. "I thought about starting to journal. I never was able to before, not a lot of privacy growing up..."

"Not a lot of respect more like it..." He mutters, as he recalls all the things that you opened up to him about in your childhood. The isolation, the guilt-tripping, the immaturity of people who were supposed to be responsible, role models, caretakers.

Logan may not already have the patience of the saint, but your folks better pray they never meet him.

Since you've been together, he watched you open up from being reserved and quiet, to being someone confident and thoughtful and full of compassion. It was always there, you just needed the right thing to give you the room to bloom. Since then, you've been exploring the things you wanted from you childhood- and Logan encouraged it every step.

"Logan."

"Hm." He grumbles, squeezing you a little tighter, . "I think it's great doll. Y'know you can always talk to me too, if you want or..need it."

"I know." You nodded. "I think I'm just...Wanting to try it. Since I never felt safe enough to do it before."

Logan considers himself a lot of things, but he never considered him self safe.

Then you came along and that's exactly what he wants to be. Safe, for you. He wanted to make you smile, laugh, and blush. He wanted you to feel completely safe around him, without shame, without worry; and you did the same for him.

He counted himself as the most cursed man alive before he met you, now? He couldn't be luckier. Everything else was just noise.

He nods, turning his body to face you, his arms wrapping completely around your waists and pulling you closer to him. He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, a gentle affection he finds himself committing with you a lot.

"What time do you have to go to work?" You ask, leaning up to rest your forehead against his, your noses brushing against each other gently.

"7. Got any plans?" He asks.

"No." You say, your voice a bit dejected. "There's this festival going on, down on Main street, but I don't really want to go there alone." You say stepping back, your hands sliding down his collared shirt as you fiddled with one of the buttons. "I'll probably just change into something comfy and order in."

He frowns at that, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip as he considered what you said. You turned away to put the stuff back in the bag and he watched you.

"Hey. Give me a minute." He says, pulling his phone out, you looked at him in confusion, as he tapped away on it- a small smile growing on your face as he tipped his head back, squinting his eyes at the screen.

"You need your glasses."

"Don't start." He mumbles with a shake of his head, making you laugh. He exhales, sticking his phone back in his pocket. He glanced around your bedroom, before looking at you. "You want to go to the festival tonight?"

You blinked. "You just said-"

He quirked a brow, and realization dawned on you.

"Baby!" You laughed. "You didn't have to do that!"

"No, I wanted too." He says, he glanced over at the bag. "You wanna try out those bows?"

It took awhile- because Logan had no idea what he was doing. He helped you put a row of bows going down your hair in a pretty and neat style.

Start with large to small, he clipped them neatly from the top, before helping you add a few small braids into your hair. His hands, scared, a tad shaky as he twirled the strands together- following your movements. Yeah, he had no clue what he was doing- over his head with this; but your bright smile made the confusion completely worth it.

The bows complimented your dress - and you were pretty as a picture.

You were filled with barely contained excitement in the passengers seat as he drove the both of you to the festival. Practically bouncing in your seat and he couldn't find it any more cuter.

"You know I never actually been to one of these before?" You tell him, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I always see them, driving past them or whatever but never...Been to one."

His brows creased, and he reached his hand out to grab yours. "Well...Glad I get to be the one to take you then."

Your smile told him you were glad for that too.

He was out of breath as you dragged him through the festival. His bones ached, feet screaming at him to sit down. The crowds of people pissed him off, and the smell was a awful mix of sweat and corndogs.

He'd never complain though. He'd do this for hours and hours, and days upon days, and weeks and eternity if it meant your smile shot his way.

Your hand never left his. You wanted to check out every booth, every game, you wanted to try the cotton candy, funnel cake, and every fried, or sweet food in the place that gave Logan a stomach ache just looking at it.

Despite what he may normally complain about, he found himself enjoying it- the first time in a long time. Only because your excitement was so infectious.

He was hypnotized by the way the bows in your hair bounced with your movements. The way your dress swished as you turned around, a big smile on your face, as the string lights strung above glowed in your eyes.

He won you the biggest plush in the festival. It was nearly bigger than you- and he offered to carry it , but you refused- too giddy to let go of the giant stuffed teddy bear. A small part of him regrets it- only because he wonders if you're going to snuggle the bear instead of him tonight.

"Aw, what a lovely father daughter duo." A woman approached the two of you, smile on her face as she observed you both- eyes lingering on Logan.

Logan's face dropped, and you noticed.

"Oh- Uh..." You laughed, your arm reaching around his waist, your free arm just barely holding the large teddy from the ground. "We're together. Like..Romantically." You say, before giving Logan an adoring smile. "He's amazing."

"Oh! Sorry." The woman laughed. You and the lady politely chatted, while Logan stood there awkwardly. She finally left, and you let out an awkward laugh.

"That was weird." You shook your head. "You okay? You looked like a ghost when she said that."

He let out a sigh, and urge to smoke creeping up, enough to make his hand twitch. "Yeah, just...Just reminds me of my age." He grumbles.

"Mhm."

"Doesn't it bother you?" He looks at you, brows creasing. Pretty one like you, he often wonders if he's being selfish.

"Do my bows bother you?"

He smiled, leaning in to kiss you on the forehead. "Point taken." He puts an arm around your shoulder.

"Listen, Lo, your age doesn't bother me. You...Are the most important person in my life." You say, attempting to adjust the heavy plush in your arms. "You support me and...Let me be myself. You talk to me and....I mean you're very handsome too sooo...." You shrug with a bashful smile.

His expression softened, and a faint smile appear. He nodded to the plush. "Want me to hold the bear now?"

"Nah. I got it." You beamed, clearly proud of it. "I got to show it off!"

"Yeah? Well I want to show you off, the damn thing is covering you. It looks i'm on a date with a sports mascot than a lady."

You giggled, relenting and handing him the bear, and intertwining your fingers with his free hand. "Better?"

He stopped, lifting your hand up and twirling you once again, watching your pretty dress swish, and your pretty bows bounce.

"Much." He smiles.

[itadores]

boyfie!kiryuu mitsuki headcanons

note: kiryuu's character design is very neat to me. also posting now because i have no patience whoopsie

word count: .9k

tags: gender neutral reader, fluff

kiryuu is very much a gentleman. he makes sure to open the door before you even have a chance to reach for the handle and pulls out your chair at every restaurant you go to. he even goes so far as to tell you not to move when you’re in the passenger seat of the car so he can run around the vehicle and open the door for you.

he also knows about the sidewalk rule and makes sure that he’s the one walking closer to the street rather than you. if you somehow manage to be the one closer to the street, kiryuu skillfully moves to be on the other side of you. he moves so smoothly that you tend to not even notice what he’s done.

he likes playing games with you. whether it’s board games or card games or video games, kiryuu likes it when you can play together. it doesn’t matter too much to him if the game is multi-player or single-player as long as you’re in the same area playing.

he also definitely sends you game pigeons at any given hour. it could be three in the morning, and your phone will ping with a notification that kiryuu texted you, wanting to start a round of 8-ball. you guys typically have multiple games going at one time, starting a new one as soon as one ends.

kiryuu even gets his friends in on it, making one big group chat for you all to play crazy eight together.

if you ever forget your jacket, kiryuu always gives you his, even if you voice your protests. he just waves you off and says that his jacket suits you more as he helps you put it on. how can you put up any more of an argument when he says such sweet things like that?

as much as kiryuu likes seeing you wear his clothes, he also likes wearing yours as well, especially if it’s a bit oversized. if he’s over at your place, he’ll help himself to your closet and slip on his favorite oversized hoodie of yours. if you give him a look, he simply responds with a happy little content sound as he burrows himself further into your hoodie. (you’ve grown accustomed to his behavior and have resorted to just leaving his favorite hoodie of yours out whenever he comes over.)

you’ve also probably picked up the habit of carrying a few hair accessories on you, such as some hair pins and a hair tie or scrunchie. kiryuu is constantly losing his hair pins (even though he has an entire case of them), so you start carrying some for him just in case. if he opens his hair pin case just to come up empty-handed, you’ll wordlessly hand him a hair accessory.

kiryuu likes wearing outfits that complement your own. he likes it when you guys are dressed in the same color scheme or when your clothing is made of a similar material. he thinks it makes you look so good together. kiryuu likes it most, however, when you wear an accessory that matches the pattern of his shirt. it's a sure fire way for people to know that you're together.

kiryuu effortlessly brings out your sillier side. although he's typically a pretty cool and collected guy, he does like things that could be seen as dumb or silly. (have you seen his silicone hot dog phone case?) he's pretty comfortable with himself, which includes being a little embarrassing at times, easing any worries that you may have regarding him finding you or your potential interests childish.

if you guys are taking a selfie or are in a photo booth together, kiryuu needs one of the poses you do to be a funny pose. bonus points if the photo booth has props because kiryuu is definitely picking out props that he finds funny and that you may find absurd. he likes the way you laugh when he poses for you, even if it may be at his own expense.

texting kiryuu can definitely be a little frustrating at times. he's a prompt texter, but he's also an avid user of emojis, reaction images, and gifs. it's rare for him to reply to your text messages using only words, which may be a little irritating if you're trying to have a proper conversation with him. if kiryuu can sense you're getting annoyed, he'll knock it off and reply to you the way you desire before resuming his typical texting habits once more.

kiryuu normally has a calm temperament, but he becomes unsettlingly calm when somebody's hitting on you and can't quite get the hint that you're not interested in them. if he's not already by your side, he'll appear out of nowhere, putting himself between you and the person who can't get the hint. it's nearly scary the way kiryuu will verbally tear the person to shreds, all the while he has a little smile on his face.

kiryuu enjoys it when you play with his hair. he'll never turn you down if you ask to play with it. he likes the feeling of your hands in his hair, and he knows you have fun when he lets you do whatever you want to his hair. whether it's pinning his hair back with overly cutesy barrettes or weaving little braids throughout his hair, kiryuu will leave the house with the hairstyle you've given him. even if you tell him he doesn't have to and that you were just playing around, he'll do so anyway. he likes being able to tell people that you did his hair when he gets questions about the new look.

all in all, kiryuu is a great boyfriend. in your opinion? he's the very best.

[crystallizsch]

“Oh? *I* get to be in charge of our lovely Princes? Hehe. I graciously accept the challenge.”

[SR] Yuusha Tala -> GROOOOVY!! Glimmering Soirée (fan event by @starry-night-rose)

Groooovy!!: Hehe. If you want to dance with me, you’re gonna have to keep up with me first.

Set Home: Yeah, yeah… I know I’m just a glorified attendant and I don’t really have any say over the Princes... Look, just let me have this.

Home Idle 1: Helping Deuce act like a Prince has been really hilarious. But credit where credit is due, seeing him try his best is really charming.

Home Idle 2: Wow. Somehow Azul became less insufferable after being trained as a Prince. ….Wait. Nevermind. He’s still the same.

Home Idle 3: Kalim and Hornton seem to be a natural at this. I guess I should have expected that. It’s really nice to see them shine.

Home Idle - Login: Has anyone seen Grim? I swear I saw him lurking around here somewhere…

Home Idle - Groovy: I could go for "Belle of the Ball" if I really wanted to, especially since I'm the one who helped take care of everything after all. But alas, why would you vote for the magicless prefect..? Wait, unless.….

Home Tap 1: Where did I put that ghost camera? I was just holding it just a while ago… Huh? It’s around my neck? Well, that’s embarrassing. Oh stop laughing at me, will ya?

Home Tap 2: The others say I’m like a different person when I go into "manager" mode. …And they say it either like a compliment or an insult so I’m getting mixed messages.

Home Tap 3: Ugh. This cape is cool and all but people keep getting caught by it. So annoying.

Home Tap 4: Would I compete in being the Belle of the Ball if I wasn't taking care of the Princes? Depends. Would you vote for me? ~ ♡ …What do you mean you’ll give me a "pity" vote.

Home Tap 5: No, I’m not staring "longingly" at that band! …But hypothetically, do you think they’d let me play an instrument with them?

Home Tap - Groovy: Oh, wow. Crazy that they totally just left this violin here. Hmmm…..

notes:

i had fun with the voice lines aaah but it might have some changes when i’m done with the groovy (and i’ll properly put her in an actual card template)

also slight lore drop from one of the voice lines: yuusha has experience hosting formal parties pre-twst. basically she just locks in (a bit too heavily) when she has hosting duties.

(some of the voice lines also foreshadow the groovy 👀)

anyways i was just messing around a lot with the outfit design and the colors hgsdfjds

i tried my best making her purple color scheme agree with the limited color palette and i think it worked out??? idk idk--

also the cape was supposed to have patterns similar to the ceremonial robes so as to label her as someone from nrc.

i wanted to include a LOT more ruffles too but i had no patience for lining all of that 🤧

(bonus sketches/concepts below)

at first i based off her suit on hans frozen but then (because of pinterest giving me ideas) i realized i wanted a more fun outfit and so here i am-

(also help me i meant to have the voice lines to be just talking to anyone but it just hit me that it sounds like she’s talking to jamil 💀 girl they just can’t leave me alone they live in my head 24/7 rent-free)

[37sommz]

000.⠀⠀NOW PLAYING: season 3, ep. 4 [drive to survive]. ✼. view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request. ✼. synopsis:⠀michaela gets on the podium. ✼. warnings:⠀none :)

✼.⠀SEPTEMBER 12, 2020 — tuscany, italy

The camera pans over the rolling hills of Tuscany, capturing the vibrant greens and golds of the Italian countryside. The famous Mugello Circuit stands proudly in the background, hosting the Tuscany Grand Prix of 2020. Being the first time the track will host a Formula 1 race, anticipation hangs in the air like the sweet scent of the local vineyards pictured in the distance.

Will Buxton sits in a graying corner of the confessional room, the stage lights illuminating his excited face. “Tuscany is more than just beautiful." the roar of Formula 1 engines mirrors the excitement the viewer can feel through the screen. "It’s a place of legends. And this year, one driver is determined to carve her name into that history: Michaela Sommers.”

Inside the Alfa Romeo garage, Michaela stands poised, her racing suit clinging to her athletic frame. A fierceness rarely witnessed by the Netflix cameras fills the air with an electric wait. Her brown eyes glisten with a mixture of nerves and stern determination. The hum of activity in the Alfa Romeo garage surrounds her as the crew prepares car number thirty-seven. The scent of oil and rubber is thick in the air as they flit around her in rapid succession; a vivid contrast to the focus she fixes over the sheet of data she holds in her hands.

“It’s surreal being here." Her accent floats in the air as the words leave her perfectly plump lips. The signature blonde of her hair is twirled into a rare curl, the pattern a bit frazzled as it struggles to break through the subtle hint of heat damage.

"I’ve dreamed of this moment since I was a child, imagining the roar of the engines, the thrill of the chase." She smiles at this, lips curling at the ends. "But now, the reality is sinking in—I’m racing in Formula 1. I can’t just be another name.”

The air crackles with tension as Fred Vasseur, the Alfa Romeo team principal, strides into the garage as if in slow motion, his face a mix of focus and fierce encouragement. He observes the frenzied preparations, his mind racing with strategies. Finding Michaela tucked into herself, separate from the bustling life of the garage, he claps a soft hand onto the taller 20-year-old's shoulder.

As practice begins, Michaela slips into the cockpit, the roar of the engine vibrating through her. The car moves as if an extension of her own body. She speeds out onto the track, and the world around her blurs—a vivid tapestry of colors and sounds merging into a single, exhilarating sensation.

“Michaela has the talent. We’re here to support her, but the pressure is immense." His French-lilted words swirl through the consonants of his words.

The sun beats down mercilessly, sweat pooling at her brow as she pushes herself to the limit. The adrenaline rush is intoxicating, yet the constant threat of failure lingers at the back of her mind.

The scene shifts to the rising dawn of qualifying day—all bright and tense, the sky a brilliant canvas of blue. Michaela stands on the grid, her heart pounding in her chest, every thrum of her pulse synchronized with the roar of engines surrounding her. Fans are packed into the grandstands, their cheers rising like a tide. A young girl holds up a poster of her favorite driver, one just as female as her.

Vasseur appears once more on the screen. A gentle smile adorns his features as he vocalizes his support for the young Australian. "This weekend could define her career. We all want that first podium finish. We know she is capable of that first podium finish.”

It is Michaela's turn to provide context as she appears once more on the screen. “Qualifying is… everything." As if struggling for words, her lips purse themselves tightly against one another. Her curls bounce lightly as her head shakes for emphasis. "I have to show that I belong here. One mistake and all of this could slip away.”

As the session commences, she grips the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity, the tires screaming for grip as she navigates the twisting circuit. Every corner demands a precision that she delivers with practiced levelheadedness. Every straightaway calls for speed, she responds in kind with the expert application of her foot to the gas. The tension builds with each passing second, and her heart races as she finds her rhythm.

When the session wraps, her name flashes on the timing board in seventh place—a stunning personal best, but she knows she has another day to accomplish the impossible.

“This is huge for Alfa Romeo and me, of course. But I know it’s just the first step. The real battle is on Sunday.” Without as much as a hint of a smile, Michaela's expression is focused even in her confessionals. Her demeanor perfectly reflects the seriousness with which she approaches every reference to her racing.

✼.⠀SEPTEMBER 13, 2020 — tuscany, italy

Race day breaks with a breathtaking sunrise that casts a warm golden hue over the circuit. The air is thick with anticipation, the scent of burning rubber and hot asphalt mixing with the earthy aroma of the nearby vineyards. Michaela stands on the grid, every nerve in her body alive with energy as the Italian national anthem plays out over the roar of the home crowd.

“Seeing Michaela on that grid is inspiring." Susie's eyes crinkle with warmth. "I’ve walked that path, and I know the stakes. This is where she’ll prove her worth.” She nods to her own words, believing sincerely that the young driver would achieve her bring moment.

As Michaela glances across the paddock, she meets the eyes of fierce faces—Lewis, Kimi, Sebastian—drivers whose accolades cast long shadows. As she continues to glance across the track, she meets the eyes of familiar rivals—Alex, Pierre, Charles—drivers she had battled every moment leading up to the one offering itself up to her now. The weight of expectation presses down on her like a heavy blanket, each camera flash a consuming reminder of the history she is trying to create.

The roar of engines reverberated through the packed grandstands at the Autodromo Internazionale del Mugello as the sleek chariots of Formula 1 lined up on the grid. The air crackles with anticipation; the stakes impossibly high, and the pressure insurmountably palpable.

The five lights go out, and the race launches into an immediate chaos. Engines roar, and the world becomes a blur of color and sound as Michaela blasts off the line. Her heart pounds as she jostles for position, deftly navigating the swirling chaos around her. The noise of roaring engines drowned out everything else as the field surged into the first corner—a high-speed ballet of carbon fiber and raw adrenaline. Heart pounding, Michaela navigated through the chaos, her instincts honed to perfection, emerging unscathed but hyper-aware of the battle raging around her.

"Michaela, you're showing strong pace. Keep pushing," her race engineer's voice crackled urgently through the team radio. With every heartbeat, she demanded more from her car, muscling it through sweeping curves and daring overtakes, her determination igniting a fire within. Kimi Raikkonen, her seasoned teammate, became both a mentor and a rival as they engaged in a relentless chess match on wheels into the sixteenth lap.

In the paddock, team principal Fred Vasseur watched with bated breath, his brow furrowed in equal parts concentration and concern at the battle between his two drivers. "She's driving like a woman possessed out there," he muttered out to no one in particular, eyes glued to the unfolding drama. Crofty’s voice cuts through the noise, narrating and dissecting every twist and turn for viewers around the globe.

As the race unfolds, dark clouds gather overhead, ominous and foreboding. The tension thickens like a brewing storm, and soon, rain begins to pour, drenching the track. Michaela can feel the fear rising around her as drivers scramble for pit stops, the slick surface transforming the circuit into a dangerous challenge she just cannot refuse.

An urgent 'box, box' comes over the radio moments later, a gentle panic rising in the depths of her conscience as she questions the decision out loud to her engineer. A simple response, "We feel it is time for inters," is all that comes across the radio, a done deal.

“This is where strategy matters." Will Buxton's voice cuts through the noise of the ongoing race. "The rain changes everything. One wrong move and it could all come crashing down, like that.” With the sound of his snapping fingers, the scene shifts back to Michaela's untimely pit stop.

As she speeds into the pits, the rain hammers down as if a thousand tiny drums. Her crew moves with the precision of a well-trained unit on a mission of success, changing her tires to intermediates. She can feel the pressure rising, the hopes of her team resting on her shoulders.

Back on the track, the rain-soaked asphalt is proving to be a challenge. Drivers struggle to keep their cars on pace in the pooling water. Michaela proves to be in her element, expertly maneuvering through the chaos. The echoes of praise ring through the action as the commentators reference the "Sommer Rain", the nickname she has so fondly picked up in Formula 3 for her thrilling overtakes in the wet.

As laps tick by in a blur of tire changes, red flag restarts, and high-stakes overtakes, tension mounts. Michaela remains steely-eyed, channeling the laser focus that had propelled her this far.

Midway through the race, the red flag is waved after a multi-car pile-up, halting the frenzy. Michaela pulls into the pit lane, her hands trembling slightly on the wheel as adrenaline mixes with anxiety. The tension in the garage is palpable as her team gathers around her.

“It's now or never. I have a chance to finish on the podium, but everything can change in an instant. I can’t let the moment slip away.” Her tone is only aided by the urgency of the soundtrack as it mirrors the intensity of the race.

With fresh soft tires bolted on, she rejoins the fray as if being unleashed from her reins, carving her way through the pack with a renewed vigor. The cars of Daniel and Checo fight tooth and nail to keep her at bay, but their mistakes prove opportunities for the young Australian to lunge for their positions as if entranced in a dance of glory.

As the final laps approach, Alex's Red Bull is in an uneasy reach. One wrong move, and she'd be in the barriers.

"This is it, Michaela. One chance to make history," her engineer's words echo into the pink of her helmet. On his heels, she waits for her moment in hungry waiting.

The sun breaks through the clouds, creating a surreal glow. The reality of her position sent electric shocks of adrenaline through her body, eager for just one more position. The crowd's roar is deafening, a living, breathing entity urging her on. Just one more position.

“Michaela is making history today. She’s not just participating; she’s competing at the highest level.” This time it is Lewis who provides his resounding input. The certainty in both tone and expression serves as reminders of his support for the younger driver.

The final few laps loom, the tension thick enough to keep the rain clouds from returning to cause havoc on the Tuscan track. Michaela’s heart pounds as she battles wheel-to-wheel with Alex. Each turn is a high-stakes gamble, and with every flick of the steering wheel, she inches closer to her dream.

With sheer determination, she launches a daring move, slipping past her friend like a bolt of lightning. Caught off guard, Alex slams a frustrated hand onto his wheel, quick to swear as he watches the Australian bolt off onto the straight.

In another instant, the checkered flag waves Michaela crossing the coveted finish line, her heart pounding in her chest, disbelief mingling with euphoria. The home fans erupt into an unsettling hum of pure excitement. The history made before their eyes is not lost on their eager hearts, a frenzy of feet rushing to break through the barriers keeping them from the track.

As she pulls into the previously distant third-place slot, her team erupts in an explosion of joy, the air filled with cheers and hugs. Freeing herself from the confines of her signature red car, Michaela can hardly contain herself as she runs into the arms of her awaiting team. Tears rush down the curves of her brown face. Leaping over the barriers, Fred Vasseur envelops her in a tight embrace, tears glistening in his eyes, pride radiating from every pore.

“This is a historic moment for our team and women in motorsport. Michaela has shown that all of the sacrifice, it pays off.” Fred laughs gleefully, recalling the rush of emotions as they pumped joy into his lungs.

Michaela steps onto the podium, her heart racing as her name is called and her flag is flown over her head. The yellow, sewn laurels of her dad cap almost feel inexplicably heavy upon her head as the weight of her accomplishment lands upon her consciousness, soaring around her like a celebration of freedom. The trophy glistens in her hands, a tangible representation of her hard-won journey. The roar of the crowd envelops her, their cheers echoing like a powerful wave crashing against the shores of her dreams.

“Regardless of team loyalties," Susie laughs this time. Her white Mercedes polo stood out against the familiar gray of the confessional background.

"This podium isn’t just a personal victory; it’s a win for all women in motorsport—past, present, and future."

As the sun sets over Tuscany, casting long shadows across the circuit, the celebrations continue. Michaela stands amidst her team, her heart swelling with gratitude and disbelief. The sticky champagne doused over her head by Lewis and Valtteri embeds itself into her skin, a feeling she resolves to never forget.

The camera lingers on the beauty of Tuscany, capturing the triumph of one extraordinary driver, the spirit of the race lingering like the scent of wine grapes over the green landscape.

As the Tuscany Grand Prix of 2020 comes to a close in an electrifying spectacle, whispers of a potential contract with Ferrari for the 2021 season begin to permeate the paddock. The pressroom buzzes with excitement and speculation as Michaela Sommers' remarkable performance ignites discussions about her future in Formula 1.

Rumors swirl like uncertainty in the wind, carrying tales of secret meetings and clandestine negotiations between Michaela's management team and the more prestigious Italian racing team. Unable to remove herself from the swirl of rumors, Michaela enters the press room with a gentle air of cautiousness despite the rush of accomplishment still coursing through her.

Amidst the fervor, Michaela's every move and utterance becomes the subject of intense scrutiny, with journalists and fans alike hanging onto her every word, hoping to grasp insights into her plans.

Maintaining a poised and collected demeanor, Michaela deflects questions about her future plans with a diplomatic, easy grace. Her silence on the matter serves only to fuel the flames of anticipation, leaving fans and pundits alike on tenterhooks as they await an official announcement.

Will offers his expertise, leaning into the speculative tone of the episode.

"It's not completely out of the question that Michaela could be promoted to Ferrari." His brows raise as if eager to learn of the outcome of his narrative. "Especially with Sebastian Vettel's continued cold war with Binotto. A pairing between Leclerc and Sommers could be one of the most competitive pairings next season."

With a casual smile, the smell of champagne still lingering in the air, Michaela deflects the questions with a subtle shrug.

"I appreciate the interest, but my focus right now is on racing for Alfa Romeo. I'm fully committed to giving my best for this team, and any discussions about the future will have to wait until the right time."

Camera flashes glimmer across her smiling face, a direct opposition to her defiant tone.

"Right now, I'm excited to be here and I hope to continue working hard with the incredible team at Alfa Romeo."

She ends her statement with a soft, "Cheers," before lifting herself from her seat. The episode draws to a close as it fades to black, focusing on her retreating figure.

✼. taglist:⠀

@cha-hot @certifiedlesbianbaddie @nichmeddar

@d3kstar @thewannabewriter @hwalllllllelujah

@pacmacs-macs @thearchieves @doodlehunz

@lavisenri @evie-119 @bxdbxtxh

@seaweed-orchid @glitterquadricorn @99snse

@ginghampearlsnsweettea @alliwantisadonut @hiireadstuff

@emilyval1 @scarlettwidow3000 @anotherblackreader

@sv5beehives @mynameisangeloflife @tellybearryyyy

@melancholyy-hill @emmma323 @valluvsu

@futuristiccroissantlampsludge @treehouse-mouse @sunfairry

[carefreecoffee]

'*•.¸♡ Fluffbruary Day 5: Seashells w/ Izuku Midoriya♡¸.•*'

Word count: 875, Gender-Neutral Reader

Izuku and you had traveled to one of the beaches nearby, picking seashells. It was nice and quiet, the sound of waves hitting the sand and the rustling of the seagulls was heard all around. “This is so peaceful, isn’t it.” he said to you with a smile, picking up a pretty shell and examining it closely.

Your bucket clanked with multitudes of seashells, “Mhm, there are so many shells out this time of year!”

He nodded in agreement, setting the shell he had picked up back down on the sand before beginning to look for shells himself. He had a small bag with him, putting a few shells inside it that he had taken a liking to. “There definitely is, I haven’t been to the beach in a really long time so this is nice.” he said as he picked up a large but pretty white shell that was glistening in the light.

You hum in agreement, sifting through the sand until your fingers reach a particularly shiny shell, the polished inside adorned in green. He noticed the shell you picked up, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. He set down the shell he had in his hand, moving closer to you. “Wow! That one is really shiny. It’s beautiful.” he said, admiring the green shimmer it had. He was amazed by it.

You smile, holding it up to him, “Looks like you!”

His face warmed a bit and let out an amused hum, looking at it closely and tilting his head. “Really? How does it look like me?” he asked, a hint of a smirk present on his face as he jokingly played along with your comment.

“It's all green, and it's beautiful and bright..” you trail off

He chuckled softly, shaking his head lightly and smiling. “You’re going to make me blush, you know that?” he replied to you with a little laugh, looking down at the shell again. He was clearly enjoying the small banter he was engaging with you, the smirk on his face growing a tad as a tiny part of him was hoping the comment you said about the shell being ‘’beautiful’’ was also a lowkey compliment towards him.

“Haha, then here, you have it” You put your hand out to him, offering him the shimmering shell.

He raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised. “Are you sure? You're the one that found it first, plus don't you want to keep it?” He asked curiously, eyeing the shell as it rested in your palm. The look in his eyes was more curious than anything else.

“Mhm, you could give me one in return if it makes you feel better”

He thought about it for a few moments before nodding, a smile spreading across his face. “Then sure, i'll give you one in return.” he said, reaching into the plastic bag that he had with him that was filled with shells he had picked up. He ruffled through the inside for a few moments, trying to find something that might suit as a decent exchange. He ended up finding a bigger shell that had different shades of blue in its patterning. He held it out to you, waiting for you to take it. “Here, it's shiny and big like your personality!”

Your face burns in slight embarrassment as you take it from him, the compliment catching you off guard., taking it and giving him the green one “Hehe thank you, ‘Zuku”

Izuku smiled, taking it and examining the colors and design closely. “No problem!” he looked back up to you and chuckled, his eyes softening a bit. “That one is a really good find, you have a sharp eye.” he stated bluntly, looking back down at the shell. His eyes roamed along the smooth edges, admiring the design even more. He was clearly satisfied with the exchange.

You turn your attention to the sea in front of you, the sound of the water clashing together catching your ears. Izuku followed your gaze out to the sea, looking past the sand that he was sitting on over to the calm and smooth water that seemed to stretch on forever. The sea breeze had picked up a little bit, rustling his hair as he sat there for a few moments in silence with you. “You know..” he began, hesitating a bit before continuing, “This is peaceful”.

You hum in agreement, scooching so that you could properly lean your head on his shoulder. He seemed to be taken a bit by surprise by your action, but a small smile made its way back onto his face as you did it. He didn't even try to move away. “Comfortable?” he asked, a cheeky grin forming on his face as he slightly turned his head to look at you. 

He looked back out towards the sea, admiring the way the waves crashed against the shore. As you relaxed with your head against his shoulder, an arm slowly wrapped around you, pulling you a bit closer to him. He was silent now, listening to the sounds around him. the sound of the waves and the breeze filled his ears as he sat there with you, the sun setting and illuminating your faces in a warm orange glow.

[snek-panini]

Today I've got binderary book #3 to share! It's a lighthouse (burning) by books-and-omens. This is a really excellent canonverse (sort of) historical setting liminal ghost story-esque fic that I read practically in one sitting sometime last summer. It's fantastic, well-characterized, angsty and fluffy and fairly plotty and with some really unique worldbuilding. I honestly can't sing its praises enough; it's one of the only times since taking up this hobby that I've known I wanted to bind something before I actually finished reading it.

Have a look at the rest of the photos under the cut; this one came out really well and I'm in love with it.

For this cover we have lineco book cloth on the spine, a strip of chiyogami paper that I got in one one ChibiJay's random paper packs, and blue-gray sketch paper for the primary gray space. It's a little hard to tell in the photos but the HTV for the titles is in two different colors, silver for "a lighthouse" and pewter for "(burning)". The effect is more pronounced in person and I love it. The pewter came in a multi-pack of cricut foil HTV and I can't seem to find it on its own anywhere, which is a shame because it's beautiful. The sort of streaky effect on the cover was unintentional but I'm kinda liking it? It's a more porous paper for drawing or painting or something, and I tried to wax it for waterproofing, but when I used the heat press to get the title on the wax darkened in the spots where the glue was applied to the cover board. At first I was disappointed, but the fic features a really massive unnatural storm, and it sort of looks like water running down a windowpane, so I'm leaning into that and calling it an aesthetic. The back didn't get this heat treatment, so it doesn't have the pattern.

Top view, showing the bookmark and handmade end bands. The bookmark is a navy blue ribbon cut from the inside of a shirt, and I chose red and white because there are so many picturesque lighthouses that have red and white stripes. It's the only color in the book that's not blue or gray. The endpapers are a navy blue silk moire, and I had better luck with them than I did with the platinum ones on my Persuasion bind even though they are the same brand. Maybe it's practice or maybe navy just hides more sins than platinum.

For the title page I went fairly simple (for me anyway) with just a frame I pulled from rawpixel. It suits the story, though, being set sometime around or before the early 20th century. I also played with text colors on the title page, with some words being grayed out to mimic the effect on the cover. The section break is me getting clever with a feature of my printer. I often use a gray line to denote section breaks, but for whatever reason my printer doesn't like them and often makes them blurry. It is only these lines that come out blurry; larger images don't do this even if they are complex. So for this one, where a major feature of the story is trying to figure out what's real and what's a supernatural occurrence, I made one that was deliberately heavier in the center so it would come out sort of smoky or fuzzy, like it wasn't quite real and couldn't be clearly seen. It doesn't look this fuzzy in the unprinted file but I love the effect and I feel very clever for manipulating the printer like this.

I'm going to show off some interior shots but this bit contains spoilers for the story, so if you don't want to see that then maybe skip the rest of the post.

I wanted to get creative with my title placement since a lot of my binds look very similar inside, and this concept really let me try that out. The plot of the story is that the reason there are so many supernatural phenomena at this lighthouse is that someone in the future ran an experiment to harvest energy and accidentally cracked spacetime with it, and bits of the future and the past and the might-have-been are seeping through the cracks, and the longer the cracks exist the more seeps through them and the worse the ghostly stuff gets. At first it's not clear whether there's anything weird happening at all, and it becomes clearer that something is wrong the further in you get because the cracks are worse. So I had this idea for a vintage lighthouse illustration with an overlay of cracks in glass, that become more defined as the story progresses until something is done and they're sealed up in the end. I am not a visual artist and even this straightforward concept was too much for my skills, so I chose the lighthouse and the crack overlay and my amazing husband did the actual image manipulation. There are five different images, with the cracks invisible in the first and final chapter and most visible in chapter 10 and 11, when the characters are trying hardest to fix the problem. I'm really really proud of how well this turned out.

And that's it! I have several more binderary books to post but they are all still waiting for titles before I do the photos, so I don't know when I'll have them up.

[elderwisp]

Outfit Breakdown:

Here's a look into everyone's outfits and makeup! I might break down these scenes in the future as some of them will be incredibly relevant to certain arcs.

✩ Starting with Dan, I wanted to go with a really laidback attire. Dan is seen in a pair of vans, a cropped tank top and loosely styled hair. However! Since she is hosting, she threw on a tie and some slacks to look presentable. Meanwhile with the the makeup, I opted for a 60s style eyeshadow and eyeliner combo, I felt like it brought a lot of attention to the eyes, something I'm sure Ares could appreciate. As for Kai, I kept the green color scheme as I resonate that color with him. His cross is seen loosely around the neck with a nice button up opened just enough to show his chest. As for his makeup, there was some flecks of blue and green sparkles as well as two lines of blue and green intertwined. That was more of a symbolism of him and Atlas being two threads connected. After his evening with Alex, the colors blend to a teal until finally he rubs it all off before his conversation with Taryn.

✩ Gum and Syx's hair colors feel complimentary to one another as one is pastel pink while the other is a pastel blue. Gum really speaks through her clothing as she feels most confident in alternative attire. Meanwhile, Syx dresses in much more pastel clothing, she really likes to show off her fit figure. Gabriel (looks v pretty here btw) came in a comfortable streetwear attire. He likes to save a lot of the flashier outfits for gigs and bar hoping but is typically seen in casual yet stylish clothing. Ares on the other hand came in a very sleek outfit as well as some chromatic eyeshadow to match. Too bad those pockets didn't hold a lighter in there.

✩ BOOF! I opted for warmer colors for Icarus, picking a comfy leather jacket and some broken in jeans. I wanted it to feel down to earth and inviting. Meanwhile for Frances, there were a lot of textures in their clothing as well as sparkles reminiscent of tears on their eyes. Their whole scene in this arc did not go as planned, originally there was supposed to be a misunderstanding and while at the time it worked (their kiss at the arcade wasn't cannon at that point) the more I read it, I was like this doesn't suit them in the state that they're in. I love the way things played out, the more it sat with me, the more bittersweet things felt and I just knew I made the right choice. Icarus throughout the scene tried to help ground Frances in the present whereas Frances felt incredibly overwhelmed by the distress of it all. So I really wanted to reflect that through their clothing.

✩ Ah, hello Rowan. There's a lot of symbolism to Rowan's attire. I'll probably touch base on it more in the future but some key items! He has not kept up with bleaching his hair that stark white he's normally seen with. His charcoal eyeshadow with the two lines intensified his eyes while his clothes had a bit of a mesmerizing patter to it. He understands how to use his appearance to pull people in. Meanwhile, Atlas's was what I like to call fashionably disheveled, his eyes covered in messily applied eyeshadow and glitter. His shirt had pins as if it was barely holding together the seams, sorta reminiscent of his mental state. Seeing Rowan definitely added to that. We probably won't see Atlas for a while as I'm sure he has plenty to think about. Putting the two together, they're incredibly similar with the pallets and patterns chosen. If Taryn and Atlas are two separate, parallel lines, Rowan and Atlas are two people sitting on the opposite side of the same line.

[pictureinme]

pleasee do a dom!kitten x sub!reader

thank u so much for requesting! i've been planning on doing purely dom!kitten for a while <3

dear mistress

dom!patricia 'kitten' braden x f!reader word count: 1.7k tags: dom/sub dynamics, mistress kink, teensy bit of fluff, established relationship, vaginal fingering, choking, p in v, unsafe sex

(ao3)

Kitten comes up behind you, trapping you in her tight embrace, "Hey, pretty girl."

You smile coyly, rubbing her arms that are wrapped around your chest, "Hello to you too, little miss handsy."

Her height difference was stark whenever she wore her platforms, such as now, and you adored it. She kisses the top of your head, humming in contentment, "I missed you, doll. You been good for me?"

Your flush with warmth at her words, "Of course, Kitten. Aren't I always so good for you?"

"Don't push it, you know you have a tendency to be… naughty," she puts an emphasis on the last word, her breath hot on your ear.

Kitten traces your body's curves with her hands, feeling each contour through your thin clothing. You moan under your breath, leaning into her touch. 

"I wouldn't ever disobey you, my Kitten."

She tightens her grip, "I'm not yours tonight, doll. You're mine."

You pick up on her meaning, and smile widely, excited for her next move. It had been so long since she took the lead.

"Undress yourself for me, dear (Y/N)."

Kitten lets go, and you turn around to face her. She's wearing her faux fur jacket, along with her floral bell bottoms, both an obnoxious yellow. Her hair was in brown curls, acting as a halo framing her face, where lips were adorned with a coral color.

You bite your lip as you look her up and down, and you begin to unbutton your dress. It was simple, just a multicolor paisley pattern, but Kitten always said it suited you.

Revealing your matching bra and panties, she smiles, "All done up for me… how precious is that?"

She admires your lacy white get-up, moving to embrace your warm chest in her cold hands. You bite back a whimper when Kitten squeezes, and she giggles.

“Don’t get shy on me now, love,” she starts to unclip your bra, “Lay down for me.”

You quickly set yourself down on the plush duvet, stripping yourself of your bra in the process. She mimics your movements, unzipping her yellow jacket, and unbuttoning her blouse. As she tosses both to the ground, you look up at her with lusty eyes.

“Oh, little (Y/N), what am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you’d like… Mistress.”

Kitten’s eyes sparkle at your honorific, and she moans gently, “Naughty, naughty, naughty…”

She opens your legs suddenly, revealing the spot of wetness on your otherwise pristine panties. Her mouth opens slightly, in awe of your desire for her. A manicured finger gently presses against you, and your hips buck up.

“Now, now, you said you’re always good, right?” You nod, “Then keep still while Mistress plays with you.”

Obeying, you feel her begin to pull your panties to the side, revealing your wetness to the cool air. You shut your eyes tightly at the feeling of her slowly spreading you open with her fingers, and Kitten takes quick notice.

“Look at me when I touch you.”

As quickly as you shut them, you open them even quicker, matching her darkened gaze. You love seeing her take control.

“Good girl,” she smiles softly, her soft lips curling, “Now, what would my good girl want?”

“I…” you try to answer, but she’s started kissing up your thighs, “I want you to make me yours, Mistress.”

Nodding, she nips at your soft skin, “I wouldn’t expect anything else from my perfect little pet.”

She pushes two fingers inside of you, and you whimper gently at the very welcome intrusion. Curling as she thrusts them in and out, you feel a familiar warmth slowly growing.

The obscene noises being created from her thrusts were delicious, and caused Kitten to rub her thighs together, unbeknownst to you.

Her fingers filled you up so well, and she could tell from the nonsense falling from your lips. She rubs her thumb around your clit, and you almost fall apart right there.

“Oh, fuck… Mistress, you’re good, so good, yes!”

“Is my pretty (Y/N) going to come all over her Mistress’ fingers? I haven’t even added a third yet…”

She adds another finger as she prompted, and you know for a fact you’re close.

“I wanna come for you, please, please…”

“Poor girl,” Kitten hums, feigning pity, “Let go for me.”

Your mouth falls open, releasing a long whine as your body shudders. Her fingers stay curled inside of you, helping you ride out your orgasm. She only relents when you grasp her wrist pleadingly.

Kitten rubs your thighs as she gets up to tower over you, her lips millimeters away from yours. You don’t dare close the gap, for fear of punishment. Luckily, she doesn’t make it hard for you.

She crashes her lips onto yours, and you savor the taste of cigarettes and lipstick. Her tongue seems to claim every inch of your mouth, and you adore it. Her little moans mixed with yours sounded heavenly.

Separating from you momentarily, Kitten’s eyes look wild with desire, “Pretty girl… let me make you feel even better, yeah?”

You nod quickly, not wanting her to get any other ideas. Grinning, she pulls down your underwear fully, tossing it on the slowing growing clothing pile. Kitten rids herself of her bell bottoms, leaving her bare, minus her skimpy panties.

Of course, they matched the rest of her now discarded outfit, with lacy yellow detailings. She was always a stickler for color coordination. Normally, you would appreciate her style sensibilities, but seeing her hardness straining against the fabric, there were other priorities.

“Take them off for me, pretty.”

You jump to fulfill her request, and slowly pull down her panties. Her length bobbing up to hit her stomach, she smirks at your stunned reaction.

Biting your lip, you watch Kitten push you back onto the bed, her body moving hypnotically. She kisses your forehead rather sweetly for the mood that was set, and moves back to kneel in front of your wide open legs. 

She stares adoringly at your wetness, nearly dripping onto the duvet, and tuts, “So messy for me.”

You flush warmly at her comment, but can’t focus on that for long when she starts to tease you with her tip. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can barely hold back a whine of pure need.

Once Kitten decides her length is prepped well enough, she pushes in slowly. You will never get used to that feeling.

Her mouth hangs open, eyes lidded, but still staring at her entering you, “Good God, you’re tighter than ever, my (Y/N)...”

You exhale slowly once she bottoms out, feeling a certain kind of fullness only she could provide.

“Kitten…”

She raises an eyebrow, stilling any possible movements, “Pardon?”

Your eyes widen at your mistake, “Mistress, mistress!”

“That’s right, you don’t get to call me that right now, little one,” Kitten manages to push even deeper into you, and you stifle a groan, “Be good for me, and I can overlook that little… mix-up.”

You nod vehemently, and she smirks. Beginning to thrust in and out of you, painfully slow, her breathing is ragged. She was just as lust-drunk as you were. Emboldened by this, you clench down on her length, eliciting a high pitched moan from her.

“Naughty little (Y/N)... I love it.”

Kitten’s movements pick up, and she reaches a hand to cup one of your breasts. Arching into her touch, she kneads in time with her thrusts.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Your string of curses made her chuckle darkly, “Don’t be so crass while I’m treating you so nicely.”

She pinches your nipple to punctuate her words, and fucks you in earnest. You practically mewl at this, and it only increases her desire to ruin you.

You try to resist meeting her thrusts, but you just can’t when it feels so good. Kitten doesn’t stop you, but instead grabs your hips to force you to properly meet the movements. You loved the feeling of being used by her like this, you would give anything for her to feel the same level of pleasure she was giving you.

“Mistress, I’m close again, please don’t stop…”

“You’re not coming again before I do, greedy girl,” she maintains her rhythm, accompanied with her nails digging into your hips.

Kitten’s movements seemed frantic and desperate as she fucks into you. You grab at one of her hands on your hip, emboldened by the pleasure. Before she can protest, you bring it to your neck.

She smirks, and begins to wrap her hand around you, adding just enough pressure for you to feel every inch of pleasure heightened.

“So pretty like this, all desperate for me,” her voice cracks mid sentence, “Gonna fill you up, yeah? Make you all mine…”

You moan as loud as you can with the hand wrapped around your throat, and feel her stutter inside you. Kitten stills, all the way in, and you feel her release.

Just as quick as she stilled, she starts to move again.

“Good girl, waiting for me,” she tightens her grip, “Come for your Mistress.”

You shut your eyes tightly, feeling another wave coming on. In a flurry of ‘thank you’s’ and ‘mistress,’ you feel that coil in your stomach unfurl suddenly.

As you come down from your high, you see Kitten above you panting just as hard as you.

“Thank you, thank you, Mistress…”

She smiles tiredly, and lays against your chest, “No need to thank me, doll, you did absolutely amazing.”

You smile into her embrace, and you begin to pet her brown curls, causing her to hum contentedly. If you died in this moment, you would be okay with that.

“So good to me, Kitten,” you kiss the top of her head, “Can’t believe I’m all yours.”

“You had better believe it, love, cause you’re gonna be mine forever.”

She sits up, and slowly pulls out, making sure to not overstimulate you too much. Wincing, you feel her release dripping from you.

“Oh, my…” Kitten kneels to be eye level with your entrance, “So much dirtier than I thought, pretty girl. Guess I have to clean you up, hm?”

[kayinnasaki]

Hi I'm not a bot. =[ Awhile ago, you mentioned something about how powerups in modern day metroidvanias, particularly in the indie ones, weren't good enough compared to the classics. Could you elaborate on that using some concrete examples so I can maybe get what you meant?

I don't remember exactly what I said but it was probably more along the lines of modern powerups being overdesigned. It's not that they're not good enough. In many ways they're arguably better. But pragmatically they miss the point.

The general modern pattern (that DOES slowly seem like it's becoming less "modern". We're going to see a post Hollow Knight shift for sure) is that you have some abilities, that ability is attack, the attack is a color, that attack breaks a certain type of block. The most extreme cases of this are like Guacamelee and Ori. Something like Metroid Dread doesn't quite do this, but it focuses on SO many different types of "keys" for the various locks (there's like… what, something like 11 or something kind of 'doors' in that game and every ability is a way to open a door?)

The problem that arises in these modern designs is that they treat the "lock and key" nature of metroidvanias as literal locks and keys. The point of the game is get the green move, look on you map, find all the greenblock places you haven't done yet, then go break a greenblock. This SEEMS like the right, sensible design evolution, but it turns what is supposed to be exploration into a checklist… and in a weird way everything suffers for it too. The cool dash can't just be a good dash, it has to be some weird hitting thing, and maybe a whole boss is built around it's movement, but now it's actual use case doesn't feel emergent, it feels planned, even if the older games were just as planned, blahblahblahblah.

So we go back to super metroid. The progression is 100% "lock and key", but it's designed not to feel that way. Some early stuff is (you need missiles to open a missile door and immediately find missiles) but it is instead presented as "PROBLEM AND SOLUTION" design. You need to go into norfair. Norfair hot?? What do??? Oh you found the Varia suit, you can go back to the hot place!

You don't need a color coded map to mark all the "locks" you can now open on the map, the thing that powerup solves is largely centralized in one sensible area. Every time you're opening a literal lock with a "key" like super missiles, the lock and the key are within rooms of each other. Meanwhile when you get a fun power up, you go back to certain PROBLEMS you remember, not the long gate rooms, or ice beam to escape the red tower area. You want to move through water, or grapple. You rarely have to remember "there was a colored door all the way back there", so there is no need to label it on the map. Sure you can go back and open the powerbomb door in the big pink room in Brinstair, but that's for bonus items, not progression. You are rewarded for exploring, not for completing your map-completion-pokedex. As such the powerups can behave a bit more naturally. They don't have have some weird dual purpose.

Compare this to Dread and everything is shoehorned into a type of door, with those cringy ass stealth doors and like pressure plate doors. None of the rooms are organized with the same type of purpose where you know where you want to bring your new item. Instead of letting you solve the problem by taking your solution to where it's needed, it just railroads you there. Powerups barely feel like powerups, they're just another part of illusion. You're just playing your part as he cog in the machine.

In games about exploring, you don't want to formalize the abstract design philosophy behind the games into system mechanics. The point is to try and maintain a plausible illusion!!! I was like "Should I tag this as Game Design" but I'm super scared of what Game Design Tumblr must look like

[disasteryxs]

Pride Comes...

(Poppy Playtime OC Short Story)

If there was one thing Iris took immense pride in, it was her creativity- her bright, darting mind, her “innovative ideas,” as Leith Pierre liked to call them. Whether it was solving a technical problem or pitching a new toy concept, her brain never stopped spinning. She could conjure solutions faster, sharper, more cleverly than anyone else she worked with, and she knew it.

Eventually, that brilliance gave way to a bit of an ego. Not that it stood out much at Playtime Co.- her boss had one of the biggest egos around. So who was going to tell her she couldn’t have a little of her own? Sure, it occasionally caused tension with her coworkers, but she didn’t care. They couldn’t do what she did. That had to mean something. For once, she felt important. She had purpose. And the rush of that feeling? Addictive.

Which is why, when she discovered her latest design had been stolen, fury didn’t even begin to cover it.

It was a Ball-Jointed Doll, stylized like a circus clown, bursting with pastel colors. Poofy, patterned clothes. Hair split-dyed pink and blue. It was whimsical, unique, undeniably her. The doll had been designed not just for display like most in its category, but for play- its articulated limbs and durable plastic would allow kids to pose it any way they liked. She’d poured over every detail, refining it before she pitched it to Leith. It was going to be her masterpiece.

And someone had taken it.

A hard knock rang out against Leith’s office door. Iris stood outside, vibrating with rage. She wanted to barge in, demand answers, scream if she had to. Thankfully, she didn’t wait long before Leith’s familiar voice called her in.

“Mr. Pierre-!” she started, her voice already strained with the effort of staying composed.

Leith raised a brow, warning her with just a look.

“You have to tell me who took my design,” she hissed, pacing in front of his desk before leaning in close.

He met her eyes, unmoved. “Ms. Everhart,” he said coolly, lips curling into that insufferable grin. God, she hated that grin. So smug. So fake. It only stoked the fire burning in her chest.

He rose from his chair and placed a hand on her shoulder in a way that was meant to be reassuring. It wasn’t.

“I need you to take a breath,” he said. “You’re getting worked up, and this attitude doesn’t suit you.”

She stared at him, stunned. Calm down? Now?

She shoved his hand off. “Sir! This is serious. You know how important this is?! The ball-jointed circus doll? That’s my design!”

Leith blinked slowly, then tilted his head, expression still maddeningly smug. His smile wavered- just a hair- as a small scoff left him.

“Oh, Iris, Don’t be childish. Your job is to create ideas for the company. That’s what we pay you for. You may have generated the concept, but it doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to Playtime Co.”

If he thought that would calm her, he was sorely mistaken.

It was clear that he was maintaining his grip on power, trying to placate her while reminding her who held the leash.

“I’ll admit, though, it’s a brilliant idea. Might make us a fortune. So thank you for that.”

Her mouth fell open. Did he really just say that? That her work was now company property?

“No,” she snapped. “That’s not good enough. I deserve recognition for this!”

Leith regarded her for a long beat- then laughed. It was low, cruel, condescending. He gripped both her shoulders again, leaning in, eyes locked with hers.

“What would you have me do, Iris? Etch your name into the doll’s spine?” His voice dropped. “You forget your place. You work for me. Nothing you create here is yours. Understand?”

He patted her shoulder once- patronizing- and returned to his desk, still smiling.

“Now, if you’re done throwing a tantrum, I’d like to move forward with this idea.”

Iris trembled. Her mind raced, her body tense, her fury near boiling over.

And then she said it.

“No! I swear to God, if you don’t make it known this was MY idea, I’ll make it known you’re using the Playcare kids as test subjects!”

Silence, as if the air itself stilled, as if time had frozen.

Even through the haze of her rage, she saw his grin vanish. His expression darkened- dangerously so. She had never seen him like that before.

Her breath caught. Her eyes widened. She’d gone too far. Said too much. She shouldn’t have known that.

“I- I’m sorry…” she stammered, stepping back, hand over her mouth. His glare was razor-sharp now, cutting through her.

“A bold threat,” he said coldly, “over a drawing. You really are a child. Making a scene because you didn’t get your way.”

He straightened. “You’re dismissed. Go home.”

“No! Please, Mr. Pierre-!”

“Get out of my office, Iris. I won’t repeat myself.” Leith took a sharp, deep breath though it did nothing to calm his anger. Though- Iris could see- a small, almost scheming glint in his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Iris blinked, her fear never wavering. Surely something like this would have meant she'd be sacked... right?

“I- I’m not fired…?”

The man raised his eyebrow. “No.” Was all he said. She should be reassured that she is keeping her job, and yet… she couldn’t shake the feeling SOMETHING is going to happen.

She backed away with a nod, wide-eyed, hands hugging her arms as she turned and fled the office. Out of the room. Out of the building. She didn’t stop shaking.

How could she let that slip? How could she be so stupid?

Behind her, Leith stood in silence. Then, slowly, he moved from his desk, hands folded behind his back, thoughtful.

“Another loose end to deal with.”

[yuri-is-online]

Well, since you are feeling festive and so am I, could I have request a fic with Ortho? Just doing a little holiday decorating or some other tradition with a homesick prefect? I don’t know, I just imagine Ortho to be the type to be interested in holiday traditions from another world. Thanks!

Oh hell yeah this slaps. Originally I was going to write about tree decorating but then I had a thought and I didn't want the fic to come off as me info dumping for however many words. I hope this is something like what you had in mind, and happy holidays!

notes: they/them used for Yuu, Ortho is the main focus here but the other first years are mentioned, Yuu and Ortho decide to play Santa. I would absolutely love to hear about any personal holiday traditions of yours, dear reader, as I think those are always very interesting. As always, other fic can be found on my masterlist here.

Christmas. Ortho had searched multiple websites, data banks, and even online journals to see if he could find any mention of such a word outside of the few instances he has heard it muttered by the prefect. He initially thought his searches weren't bearing fruit because Yuu pronounced it several different ways (Chrimis, Crisis, Chrysler???) but he has ultimately concluded those were likely jokes based off of their tone of voice.

That had been what finally made him ask, not even his brother liked laughing at his jokes alone.

"Oh that's one of the big winter holidays in my world." You had told him, trying to sound matter of fact but unable to hide the way your voice cracks with the strain of your homesickness. "I made the mistake of trying to remember a nursery rhyme while Grim was around and ended up telling him about Christmas stockings and now he wants one."

And now you have to explain the concept to him, but with much less pressure as Ortho listens carefully with growing excitement.

"Putting presents in socks! That's really silly but I suppose that there are some holidays here you might find really weird too huh?" Ortho can also see why Grim would be so excited about this particular tradition, a gift (in a sock or no) that has the potential to be made up entirely of candy, fruits, and other foodstuffs sounds very much like him. "So do we just need to find Grim some socks he fits in? You already have a fireplace to hang it on... or are you thinking about giving Grim coal?"

“Well-”  It had crossed your mind.  “Sometimes adults give chocolate that’s shaped like coal but that’s not really what’s bothering me.  You don’t usually use socks for this, you make these really big fake socks.  I wanted to make one for Grim, but while I was thinking about how I wanted to decorate it I sort of… thought it would be nice to make stockings for the others, y’know like Ace and Deuce and maaaybe Jack, but then I would need to explain it to them and I don’t want to do that.”

“Oh that’s easy, we just won’t.”  Ortho laughs and takes your hand to eagerly drag you towards Sam’s before you can question just what he means by “we.”   ~~~~ "Operation sock jaw is a go." Ortho mimics rubbing his hands together gleefully, his lab wear feeling deeply out of place in the unofficial official Ramshackle craft room. A small pile of carefully picked out fabrics and season appropriate accents are neatly folded at the corner of the table as you carefully trace out what you think resembles a pattern for a Christmas stocking as Ortho carefully watches.

"You have really good aesthetic tastes," you nod as you look over the drawings Ortho had provided "this one really matches Ace's clown vibes."

"I'm glad you like it!" He laughs. "I figured a harlequin pattern in Heartslabyul colors suited him perfectly! Deuce was a bit harder to figure out... I didn't just want to slap a playing card on it and call it a day. Jack was a bit easier with how often he searches for information on cacti and succulent care. Oh I can cut the cacti out of the felt if you like?"

"With scissors?" You tentatively ask, not entirely sure how your dorm would hold up if he decides to break out the lasers. But the suggestion seems to flatter Ortho rather than annoy him.

"Oh that'd be fun! I've never really had the need to use normie tools before, this will be just like..." his voice briefly trails off as he looks down at the scissors. You wonder if he is capable of zoning out, being a robot and all, but decide that isn't too far out of the realm of possibility as his next words come out in a stutter. "Hey Yuu, does this sort of feel like an anime to you?" It's not too unexpected a question for Ortho to ask, so you look down at your crafts and really try to think about an answer.

"I guess so?" You gently place the pieces you have cut for Ace's stocking down so you can look out at the snow blanketing the world outside your window. The scene isn't too different than one you might see in your world on a card. But then again- "There's a lot of tropes associated with Christmas in anime, there's an entire genre of weird rom com movies about it, so yeah I guess making crafts like this with you does sort of feel like something I would see in an anime?"

"I thought so!" Ortho happily begins to carefully cut the felt with the scissors, mimicking what he had seen you do with the little tuna fish for Grim's stocking earlier. "That makes me glad, if something is a common enough for people to fantasize about it in an anime, then it has to be really important to the people of your world. And yet no matter where I search I will never be able to find data about it in mine!"

"Doesn't that annoy you a little?" It would stress you, does stress you how familiar and yet distant Twisted Wonderland's traditions are to your own. But the smile Ortho gives you is one of such genuine excitement you feel at least a little of that stress fall away.

"It scared me at first, but then when I got my soul I realized that it meant I had a really good excuse to keep talking to you. More data is never a bad thing! You could give me and my brother ideas for a truly unique game or show, so please, tell me everything you can remember about your world. I'll make sure it's remembered." He means every word he says. It's enough to make you cry.

"Alright, but just remember you asked for it. Where to start?"

[werecat1234]

Multiverse Madness Chapter Fifty

Dream hadn't been able to track down Killer or Ink, despite how much he looked. Killer was invisible to his detection, just like Ink was, and they were either setting things on fire in already negative timelines, or they were going to timelines that there was simply no other life there. Even after being out of the stone for so long, Dream still had troubles narrowing down negative emotions outside of sensing auras, which had grown more difficult, likely due to Bill doing something to mask Nightmare's and Shattered's presences. Out of any allies Nightmare could've made, Bill was probably the most difficult for Dream to deal with, a fact Nightmare probably enjoyed greatly.

Dream sighed, standing in front of a forest house in the Zephyrtop, whose occupants wouldn't be happy to know about what had happened to Ink. The house was in Zephyrtop, and it was... colorful, to say the least. It was a mix of gothic and circus, with primarily cobblestone walls with colorful banners around the windows. The door was wooden, painted red, and there was a smaller, Ink-sized door in the middle of it,  the windowsills were white with blots of other colors, and the roof of the two-story house was purple shingles with bits of confetti on them.

Ink had personally made the house for the Gasters he considered his father figures, and from what Dream heard, it was common for some sort of renovation or add-on to be made when Ink got inspiration for it. Dream had met them before, and they got along well, but as far as Dream knew, Top and Aster weren't aware of what happened between him and Ink, or what happened to Ink afterwards... Dream looked behind himself, seeing Error coming through a glitching white portal, and he was confused.

"error? what are you doing here?- wait, how do you know where this is?" Dream asked.

"reaper won't leave me alone, and ink dragged me here sometimes after we truced." Error shrugged.

Dream had no idea about that, honestly, and as much as he wanted to ask more about it, he needed to talk with them. He'd been putting it off long enough, anyways...

"and you're here avoiding reaper because...?" Dream trailed off.

"i don't feel like dealing with him, i don't want to talk to him about something i don't remember, much less want anything to do with." Error replied, "also if ink texts again that might be useful?"

"actually.... yeah, that would be." Dream nodded, "do you want to go in?"

"i mean that's the point of this, right?" Error questioned, and Dream sighed before nodding a bit.

He stepped up to the door, reaching up and pressing the balloon-shaped doorbell, which played a circus music theme for a few seconds before it stopped. The door opened, a Gaster standing there, who Dream recognized as Top. He was wearing a purple suit with mint green cuffs, a light yellow undershirt, a light blue tie, and black shoes.

"Hm? Oh, Dream, Error! Come in!" Top invited, opening the door for them, Dream stepping in first, and Error following him after a moment.

The inside of the house was also colorful, with a fluffy colorful carpet, which was black with splotches of color all over, or maybe it was a bunch of colors with splotches of black?... Dream didn't think he would ever be sure. The walls were cobblestone, and had several shelves lining them, most being pictures, but there was a lot of dragon sculptures, and there was countless knickknacks scattered all over the shelves. It was almost cluttered, but in a way that was homey and inviting. The living room was right ahead, with a dark purple couch with different black designs all over it, glitter in the black patterns. There were two recliners with the same designs, which were on either side of a cobblestone fireplace across from the couch. There was a black wood coffee table in front of the couch, colorful balloon coasters on it, and Top led them into the living room. Error sat down on one of the recliners, and Dream sat down on the other, watching as Top went over to a staircase over to his right.

"Aster! Dream and Error are here!" Top called out.

"Coming!" Aster replied, and Top headed back over to the living room, sitting down on the couch.

A moment later, Aster came down the stairs, wearing his black cloak, the edges outlined in light yellow on the top, fading down to light purple past his waist. His hood was down, he had two metal spikes on either shoulder, the bottom half of his sleeves were wide, tattered, and the purple on the insides. He was wearing brown gloves, mostly hidden under his sleeves, and he was wearing a beige sweater under his cloak. The bottoms of his cloak split off into three pieces on either side, the front ones having a purple and light yellow symbol at the tops.

He was wearing black pants, beige tall socks, and black boots, white had two purple straps on the bottoms and one at the tops. Aster also had a tail, skeletal and splitting off into two ends at the tip, and he wore a large black scarf that came from under his hood, but the scarf looked like feathery wings, and might even act as wings. The lines Gasters typically had were more damaged than normal, splitting off into shatter-like cracks, and his left eye socket contained a white diamond eyelight, his right eyelight a circle.

"I'm surprised to see you so soon, Error, and without Ink inviting you here." Aster noted as he sat next to Top, and Error grumbled a bit.

"sure, 'inviting' me is one way to put it..." Error mumbled.

"Speaking of, I haven't seen Ink in a while; is he ok?" Top asked, and Dream and Error exchanged glances, "I know he was upset about your falling out after Blue, but he's normally never gone for this long, even with how forgetful he can be..."

"umm... about that..." Dream trailed off, mournful, and he looked down, "something... something happened...."

"What happened?" Aster asked, growing tense, and Top put his hand on his, gently squeezing it to reassure him.

"after our umm... falling out... ink got captured... it was another version of me, but like nightmare, and he... he did something to him..." Dream frowned, looking down at his lap.

"Is he hurt?" Aster asked, his tail starting to lash, scarf ruffling up, and Top looked between him and Dream, concerned.

"well, he was pretty messed up the first time he showed up, covered in-" Error started to not even slightly gently explain, and Dream cut him off.

"he isn't as bad as he was before! something happened to him mentally, though. he hasn't drank his vials in weeks, error found them in an au, or what was left of it, and he's still going... he hasn't been immobilized yet..." Dream informed.

"That's.... odd..." Top said, "I've seen him without them before, and it didn't take long for him to lose his colors. Me and Aster had to have him drink them again in order to help him, but otherwise nothing worked. You said he's been like this for weeks?"

"yes." Dream verified.

". . . How bad is he hurt? And be honest with me." Aster left no room for refusals, and Dream frowned.

"i don't know the full extent. fresh said his left arm was messed up, though, but it seemed mostly healed, just scarred." Dream answered.

". . . What's this other version's name?" Aster questioned.

"he's been calling himself shattered." Dream replied.

"The next time you see Shattered, call me. I'll have Betelgeuse ready." Aster said.

"aster, he's-" Dream started to try talking him out of it.

"I don't care if he's powerful, he hurt my son." Aster's tail was definitely lashing now.

"Zeph, I know you're upset, believe me, I am too, but we can't rush into things. We'll need a plan.... which means me and you are going to skip game night and start making revenge plots." Top told him, and Aster smiled a bit.

"Oh yes we are." Aster agreed.

"you're gonna have to count in getting around ink, too. shattered basically turned him into a puppet. he's gonna be like a guard dog to that freak, and i don't think he'll hesitate to hurt you." Error informed.

"as much as i don't like it, error's right... i haven't seen ink hesitate to hurt anyone, including me... i've never seen him like this before, and i... if i could hate, i would hate this..." Dream's hands shook, and he looked down at them as he folded them in his lap.

"We'll get him back. Me and Aster will help you however we can." Top informed, "Just tell us when you find him, and we'll bring him home."

"good luck with that. ink's been a slippery little brat." Error huffed, "me and fresh were chasing him for a while earlier, and once we finally managed to corner him, he put up a fight. speaking of, he doesn't hold back anymore, and he's been... acting..."

"Acting?" Top asked, "Did he inherit my theatrics ability?"

"Babe, he's adopted-" Aster started.

"Shhhhhh." Top shushed softly, pressing a finger to his mouth.

Aster's cheekbones turned purple, and Top planted a quick kiss on his mouth, causing the color to darken. Dream personally found it adorable, and Error was just looking off to the side, quiet. Dream could still sense Error's emotions, some of which were pretty... complicated. Error had mixed feelings towards Reaper, half of him feeling a sense of affection towards him, and the other half of him hated that half and the emotion it made him feel. It was strange to sense, to say the least, but Error was strangely hiding his emotions well.

Once Top pulled his finger away, Aster's blush settled, and he asked, "What did you mean acting?"

"he's acting like he has emotions, even though he doesn't. he lets the act drop sometimes, but it's still freaky. he acts like he enjoys what he's doing. doesn't matter what it is. not to mention him acting sadistic and like a brat." Error described.

"That... definitely isn't like him." Top frowned.

"He may not care for everyone, only having a few he holds dear, but he's never enjoyed someone suffering..." Aster frowned.

"exactly. dream hasn't really seen it yet, which lucky him, but ink's still a brat." Error huffed.

"error, he's their son-" Dream started.

"and he's being a brat." Error cut him off.

"he's their son and he's not thinking clearly." Dream knew Error talking about Ink's behavior like this couldn't be easy to hear.

"obviously, because he's being a brat." Error responded, and Dream sighed.

"I'm sure he'll be back to normal soon." Top spoke up, "We'll help get him back, get him his vials, and kick Shattered's coccyx while we're at it." Top said.

"i hope so..." Dream mumbled.

Ink teleported himself and Dust to the abandoned genocide timeline he told Killer about, and his bones were rattling with energy. The coffee had seemed like a good idea at the time, Ink having needed something to stay awake. However, he was regretting it as he had nowhere to go with that energy, and that wasn't helping. It reminded him of his yellow paint which he no longer needed, but he felt nothing emotionally, yet physically he felt too much. He felt like he could do anything, like he could run through an entire AU from the Ruins to the Barrier, like he could fight even the strongest being and take them to Shattered, if that's what his boss wanted him to do. He felt unstoppable, but he knew he wasn't. He was hyper, not ignorant of his limits. Shattered taught him better than that. He looked around the AU, seeing Killer teleport near them before walking over.

"hey, killer!" Dust greeted, heading over to him, and they met in the middle.

"hey, dusty! ink got into the caffeine, huh?" Killer smirked.

"yeah." Dust sighed, "i told violet that it was a bad idea."

"he doesn't have good ideas often." Ink remarked.

"no kidding. heh, you almost look like a regular sans with how dilated your eyelights are." Killer remarked.

Ink tilted his skull at that, and Killer grabbed his knife, showing Ink his reflection. His eyelights were wide, and they were shaking slightly.

"oh." Ink hummed, looking around.

Those trees all looked extremely climbable, like he could race up one, jump down and climb up another, if he didn't leap to another tree from the first one he climbed-

"woah woah woah, buddy." Killer grabbed his arm, and Ink realized he'd started running towards the trees, "take it easy, ok?"

"yeah, you passed out as soon as shattered came to get us, you woke up, and then you drank coffee to stay awake. you might feel energized, but you could still get hurt if you're sluggish." Dust agreed.

"so no trees?" Ink made himself sound disappointed.

"no trees." Killer denied, and Ink made himself frown.

"i can heal from anything." Ink pointed out.

"that doesn't mean you should have to." Dust told him.

Ink was quiet at that, looking off to the side, and he asked, "then can we set snow on fire?"

"snow's not flammable, pal." Killer informed, "we've already tried it."

"damn." Ink cursed quietly.

"but those trees are." Dust said.

"do you just want to set them on fire so i can't climb them?" Ink asked.

". . . let's start a forest fire!" Killer changed the subject, Dust silent, and Ink guessed the answer was a yes.

"can we make s'mores with the fire?" Ink questioned.

"i don't think you need more sugar, ink." Dust told him, "seems risky."

"what's the worst that could happen?" Killer asked. 

". . ." Dust gave him a blank look.

". . . fair point." Killer sighed.

"what was the point?" Ink tilted his skull.

"that you don't need more energy." Killer replied, and Ink made himself pout.

"you don't gotta pout, y'know." Killer informed.

"i thought people were supposed to be annoying when hyper?" Ink questioned. 

". . . ok fair." Killer relented.

"any tips?" Ink asked him.

"yeah, killer would know." Dust snickered, receiving a playful elbow from Killer.

"no, you would know, little brother~" Killer responded.

"you're literally being annoying right now!" Dust informed.

"nuh uh!" Killer denied.

"you can't resort to nuh uh every time!!" Dust snapped.

"yuh uh!" Killer grinned.

"killer, i swear to god!!!" Dust glared, and Killer snickered.

Ink tried taking the chance to get to a tree, thinking climbing just one wouldn't be a problem, but Killer was still gently but firmly holding his arm, preventing Ink from leaving. He was so filled with energy, and yet he couldn't get it out while Dust and Killer bickered like siblings. He wasn't impatient per say, but his bones thrummed with the need to move, the urge to get the caffeine out of his body, and he tried pulling Killer towards the trees, but the taller skeleton had his feet firmly planted in the snow. Ink tried more insistently, starting to run, only to find himself going nowhere, lifted off of the ground and held in the air. Ink turned his skull to glare at him a bit, and Killer just smirked at him.

Ink made himself sigh, "you've got to be kidding me."

Killer chuckled, putting him down, only to lift him back up once Ink tried running again.

"not so fast, pal. i know ya wanna burn off energy, sure, but you gotta stay in our sight. reality's abducted us before, he might try it with you, and there's no way of tracking you." Killer pointed out, and Ink sighed again.

"how is there any guarantee he'd be watching?" Ink asked.

"how is there any guarantee he's not?" Killer countered, and Ink looked off to the side.

He had a point...

"ok, fine..." Ink relented.

"paps has a point, we could do laps around snowdin." Dust spoke up, and Ink looked over at him.

Shattered instructed him not to tell Dust that 'Papyrus' was just a hallucination, and that he wasn't real, so Ink stayed quiet. Most Dusts and Murders hallucinated their dead brothers in different ways. Some were created from grief, some were magic constructs created by the wants and desires of the soul, twisted by LV to be horrific and twisted as the minds who brought them to existence, and were visible to others, mainly monsters with LV or who had a bond.

Others were actually able to manifest from leftover magic from Papyrus himself, latched onto the Sans's soul, but they were fragments of who the skeleton had been, or twisted by LV. Ink knew a Dusttale Sans in the Omega Timeline that came from a variant like this; he was in the popular band there, if he remembered correctly. He was, Ink knew he was; he could never forget a second when he was like this.

"what about the arson?" Ink questioned.

"oh that's the fun part. run around with a molotov and throw it if you have a good shot at something. then run around the flames." Dust smirked, and Ink nodded.

"sounds like a plan to me, dusty." Killer agreed, and so they started.

The three of them went to the Grillby's, grabbing every bottle of liquor there, along with all of the curtains and bedsheets from the Sans's and Papyrus's house, and they made mototovs using some lighters they found. Despite Ink not being able to forget anything, the next half hour passed in a blur, Ink, Dust, and Killer running all over the town, teleporting back to the bottles they'd lined up, grabbing them, and continuing. By the end, when Ink had burned off most off the energy, him, Killer, and Dust regrouped, most of the town in flames. Dust made a large pile of snow before sitting down on it, Killer doing the same, and Ink followed suit. Dust grabbed one of the unused bottles, popping the lid off, and taking a drink.

"couldn't help yourself, could ya?" Killer teased, grabbing a bottle for himself. 

"why do you drink that stuff, anyways?" Ink asked. 

"eh, habit?" Dust shrugged, "used to be a crutch for a long time, and it still kinda is, even if killing doesn't bother me anymore. high lv does that to you."

"but your first kills get to you?" Ink guessed, and Dust looked down.

". . . yeah. sometimes the voices get loud and the screams get louder. the booze drowns it out, and otherwise the lv does a good job... if it doesn't wear off too fast..." Dust looked off to the side.

"lv is addictive for that reason. it makes your pain lessen, but as you get more of it, it causes more pain, and then you need more lv to take it away, if only for a little." Ink said, looking down at the snow, "by the time those afflicted realize it, they can't stop. they just want the pain to stop, so they keep killing, relentless, trying to end their own suffering the only way they know how. it isn't just the power it gives you, it's the relief."

Ink looked up to see Killer and Dust looking at him in mild surprise, and Ink stayed quiet, unsure of what else to say.

". . . that's.. actually really accurate..." Dust admitted, looking away again.

"i know everything about the multiverse, i know what lv does to people. it's one of the main fundamental facts that makes up the multiverse itself, with how influential lv can be in scripts. it exists in every au." Ink mentioned.

"scripts?" Killer asked.

"it's how an au is supposed to go; the events that take place. every timeline is another script, created by differing events. your scripts were.... unfortunate, but there's countless others like you, with countless variants. there would be more if error hadn't destroyed so many, but there's still so many regardless." Ink explained.

"huh... so we just drew the short stick, huh?" Killer questioned.

"depends on how you look at it." Ink shrugged, "you could've ended up much worse."

"that's... totally reassuring." Dust attempted, and Ink made himself laugh a bit.

"how many timelines did nightmare and dream have?" Killer asked.

"only one, this one. granted there were other alternative ways things could have gone, but each of those timelines is in an alternate multiverse." Ink answered, "some aus just simply have one set path per multiverse; one script. dreamtale is one of those."

"that has to help dream's ego, having his damn au named after him." Dust grumbled.

"what's your beef with dream, anyways?" Killer questioned, "you never said."

"huh... i guess i never told you..." Dust mumbled, taking a long drink of the alcohol in his hand, finishing the bottle, "you wanna know?"

"uh... yes!" Killer replied, "the first time you saw him you were pissed!"

". . ." Dust sighed, "alright, alright. well, i actually knew dream before nightmare even showed up." That was a surprise to Ink. "he showed up thinking i was the threat, and he helped that damn thing that was killing everyone over and over."

". . . what?" Ink asked.

"yeah." Dust sighed, fists clenching after discarding the bottle by throwing it into the forest, "he kept interfering when i'd try beating the human to the kills, he'd fight me, which gave them enough time to kill whoever i was trying to kill while we were fighting, and then he'd help them stop me at the end."

"that..." Ink didn't know what to say to that.

That didn't sound like Dream at all. It might've been some form of imposter; the multiverse was full of shapeshifters, and Ink could think of a large number who had it out for Dream and would try souring his reputation, but he wasn't about to say that. If Dust hated Dream, that wasn't Ink's problem. Shattered would actually view it as useful, so Ink didn't deny anything Dust said.

"wait, seriously? no wonder you're so pissed at that guy!" Killer responded.

"yeah, between that and what he did to cross, i hate his nonexistent guts." Dust grumbled, and Killer looked off to the side with narrowed eye sockets.

"what'd he do to cross?" Ink asked, admittedly curious.

"he didn't tell you that either?" Dust questioned, and Ink shook his skull no.

"well, after cross joined, him and dream went off on their own, remember that?" Dust started, and Ink nodded, "well, turns out dream messed with his head; tried turning him on us."

"he just said he talked to him to me." Ink mentioned.

"he lied." Dust said, angry, but it wasn't directed at Ink, "after that fight cross was off; different, and then nightmare figured out what happened. killer had to help nightmare help cross, which entailed fighting him."

Ink wasn't sure what to say to that. It didn't sound like Dream either, but this couldn't have been a shapeshifter. Maybe Ink wasn't the only one lying during the duration of their friendship. Dream had abandoned him, after all, so maybe he didn't know Dream as much as he'd thought he had. If he had emotions, that would probably hurt a bit, but he didn't, so all he felt was cold indifference to it.

"yeah, that... that wasn't a fun day..." Killer sighed, and Ink realized how tired he'd been getting.

His eye sockets were heavy, and his limbs were heavier. He couldn't sleep without Shattered nearby, though. He knew how much Shattered wanted to protect him when he was vulnerable, and how much that might be needed. His boss was the best...

"i think i'm going to head back to the castle, see if shattered's back yet." Ink informed, making himself get up before he grew too tired to do so.

"you ok?" Dust asked.

"yeah, just tired." Ink nodded, stumbling a little, but he steadied himself as Killer and Dust got up to help him.

"you need me to teleport you back?" Killer offered.

"no, i've got it, thank you..." Ink denied, grabbing Broomie from it's sash, "see you around?"

"yeah, see you." Killer agreed, and Ink teleported himself back to Shattered's castle, not missing the look the exchanged as he left.

Ink appeared back in Shattered's castle, looking around tiredly as he wished Shattered could have stayed earlier to let him sleep. Shattered had had to take care of something at that Predatortale AU, and had had Ink wake up so he could deal with it. He was still behaving strangely, as ever since the attacks, Shattered had been acting weird, and Ink didn't like it.

He'd seen Shattered angry, he'd seen him happy, he'd seen him happy and angry, but he'd never seen him like this. He didn't know how to handle it, and he didn't like that fact. Ink walked through the root hallways, heading to his room, where Shattered had informed him he'd be waiting before he'd gone to Predatortale. Ink's movements were still somehow managing to grow more and more sluggish, his feet practically dragging on the floor as he approached his room.

The hallway spun slightly, and Ink held himself up on one of the walls, standing there and waiting for the dizziness to pass. Once it did, he kept walking, nearing his room, and he finally reached the door, pushing it open. Shattered was already sitting on the bed, his back resting against the headboard, and Ink walked further into the room, closing the door behind himself.

Ink started to bow, remembering the requirement after taking a few steps in, but he lost his balance, starting to fall. Luckily for him, Shattered caught him, extending his tentacles to catch him before he hit the ground. Ink looked up at him, giving him a tired expression of thanks, and Shattered lifted him up with his tentacles, putting him at the end of the bed.

"you don't need to bow this time, ink. not when you can barely walk." Shattered informed, an amused smirk on his face.

Ink nodded a bit, crawling over to him, something that made Shattered's smirk grow, and Ink tucked himself snugly against Shattered's right leg, his skull pressed against Shattered's hip, resting on his upper femur. Shattered pulled a fluffy black blanket over him, and as exhausted as he was, he still wanted to know why Shattered had been acting strange earlier. He seemed to be in a good mood now, but otherwise he'd been... off.

"boss?" Ink spoke up, looking up at him, and Shattered's amber eyelight looked down at him.

"yes, ink?" Shattered responded.

"why were you acting weird after the attacks?" Ink asked, and Shattered looked off to the side, "am i allowed to ask about that?"

Shattered sighed, "you are, i suppose, despite it being... complicated. i'd prefer you didn't ask about it; it's nothing you need to worry about, ink. i'm fine."

Shattered rubbed his skull reassuringly, despite the fact that Ink couldn't even feel concerned or worried, just confused. The look on his face was similar to the ones Dream had always had, as much as Ink tried to ignore that fact, but with the same attire, Ink found it difficult not to make comparisons.

"boss? why do you look like dream, even though you're nothing like him?" Ink questioned.

"well, it's mainly a way of pissing him off." Shattered smirked as he answered, before tilting his skull, asking, "why do you ask?"

"i was just curious." Ink replied.

"you didn't think i had the same fashion sense as my brother, did you?" Shattered chuckled, and Ink made himself smile a bit, but it showed how forced it was more than he wanted it to.

"no, boss." Ink shook his skull no.

"good. i still can't believe he can dress like a hobo and wear a crown like that." Shattered said, and Ink made himself laugh at Shattered's joke.

He was allowed to laugh at Shattered's jokes, just not at Shattered himself.

Shattered's form shifted after a few moments, rippling, altering his clothes. After a moment, the process was finished, with Shattered wearing a black sweater and pants, an amber belt around his waist, and a black vest appeared above his shirt, with dark amber cuffs and edges. There was a flare up around his neck, which faded to dark amber, and his shoulders were dark amber as well. Ink glanced down, seeing he had high heeled boots now, which were black with dark amber around the tops and in the soles and heels. Nightmare was probably going to hate that Shattered was taller than him now. Oh well.

"i wish i could've stayed here so you could sleep earlier, but things came up." Shattered told him after looking at him for a moment.

"it's ok, boss." Ink reassured him, eye sockets heavier.

"still, you poor thing..." Shattered cupped his cheekbone, his thumb rubbing under one of Ink's eye sockets, where Ink knew there was a dark mark present from his exhaustion, "you didn't sleep enough last night?"

"error and fresh chasing me and dust wore me out, so did killing the monsters in those aus... the fight with fresh took most of what was left of my stamina..." Ink explained, "the coffee kept me awake longer, though."

"ah, i see. an eventful day then, huh?" Shattered observed, and Ink nodded, "well, at least it's over now, and you can get your rest."

Ink wrapped an arm around Shattered's waist, something that made Shattered grin, and Ink said, "thank you, boss."

"of course, ink." Shattered smiled, petting Ink's skull, "you've earned it."

"boss?" Ink spoke up again.

"yes?" Shattered asked.

"what did you need to do in predatortale before?" Ink questioned.

"oh that? you'll see soon enough, don't worry." Shattered smirked, "well actually, you can't worry, so just don't let it occupy too much of that head of yours."

Shattered lightly tapped on Ink's skull for emphasis, and Ink nodded.

"of course not, boss." Ink pulled himself closer, and Shattered grinned down at him.

"good boy. now, get some sleep. you need it, after all." Shattered purred, and Ink felt his exhaustion grow exponentially at the word 'sleep'.

It was likely from Shattered using his sleeping magic on Ink to make him sleep, so Ink didn't resist it, letting it swallow him. He closed his eye sockets, feeling Shattered petting his skull, and he felt his body go figuratively boneless. Shattered chuckled, the sound seeming faint, and that was the last thing Ink processed before he fell fast asleep.

Discord server: https://discord.gg/wQfvxyEuvj

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[harveyguilleniconodelamoda]

Style with Impact

Harvey accepted an NHMC Impact Award for Outstanding Performance in a Series last night, dressed in a stunning corseted black suit. At this time I have not been able to confirm the designer (though that cropped jacket with a single button closure screams Siriano to me), but I can break down some of the details of the suit and talk about why it works so well.

The Jacket

This is a modernized take on the classic tuxedo jacket, with peaked lapels decorated with floral lace, embroidery, and pearls. The black on black of the floral pattern lends a sophisticated subtlety and contrasts beautifully with the bright gleam of the pearls. It's a nice balance between the traditional and the theatrical.

The hem of the jacket is also modernized, with a cropped hem and a single-button closure that sits right at his waist. This, along with the peaked lapel, highlights the breadth of his chest and shoulders in a beautiful way, which in turn emphasizes the cinching effect created by the corset.

The silver on the shirt picks up the gleam of the pearls as well, and the contrasting patterns between the shirt and the jacket lapels work really well to create visual interest and make each other pop. Mixing patterns is tricky, and can end up looking loud and busy. But the harmony between the colors and the organic shapes in both patterns really make this pairing work.

The Corset

Speaking of which...instead of a longline jacket, Harvey paired the cropped hemline with a corset in the same color and material. This extends the line of the jacket visually, but creates a much sleaker silhouette than could be achieved with a traditional longline jacket. The vertical lines further draw the eye downward, with the final result being a silhouette that plays with the lines of gender expectations around formalwear. The effect is both powerful and alluring.

The Pants

The pants were also made of the same material as the jacket. They appear to be a standard wide-leg trouser cut. I like that they were hemmed and tailored for Harvey, but the drape of the fabric around the knees leaves something to be desired, just for me personally.

That being said, while I don't think the pants necessarily have as much oomph as the top of the outfit, I'm not sure they need it. If every piece of an outfit pulls focus, the result can feel too busy and incoherent. The pants are a nice, simple pairing that leave the top of the outfit to shine.

The Shoes

Once again, Harvey wears platform boots instead of a traditional dress shoe. I really like this choice! It adds a bit of edge to every outfit, and adds a bit of height instead. Nothing wrong with being short, obviously. But I know well the feeling of wanting that little extra bit of height at an event, and there's nothing like a really solid, sturdy pair of platform boots to make you feel like a badass!

All of that being said, Harvey looked incredible as always, with a little help from makeup artist Romie Macedo and hair stylist Connie Agawin, both of whom he works with frequently for red carpet events and other public appearances. I can't wait to see what other red carpet looks Harvey serves this year! And if I find out any more details about this gorgeous suit, the shirt, or those shoes, I'll be sure to post an update!

When all the other dudes in the friend group got the group discount at Prom Emporium but you were determined to make a statement.

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader: AFAB GN Character: Charlotte Katakuri Kink: #1 - Merinthophilia Prompt: Birthday Captain's Choice Gift Giver: @mewiyev

Summary: It's taken years to build up trust with Katakuri, but now you can give your beloved the TLC he desires. With about 500ft of main sail rigging rope.

Content Notes: submissive Katakuri, bondage, soft dom reader, drool, non-penetrative sex, size difference, 18+ only

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

( I was very much inspired by this art by Mew - no less - but you're gonna need to prove you're old enough to see it https://twitter.com/nsfmxw/status/1668804754825158660 ♥ )

The ropes used to bind Katakuri were better suited to main sail rigging than what you’d generally use for bondage, but given the size difference, they worked well. Your impressively sized partner had tied himself up to a certain extent, and acquiesced when you ordered him around for the rest.

Now he was on display for you, ropes crossing his broad chest in a lattice harness pattern, arms bound behind his back. The black rope was beautiful against his skin, letting his tattoos peek from behind the dark color. Blood rushed through his cheeks and chest, as he sat on his heels, knees spread wide.

It had taken more than a couple years for the two of you to reach this level of intimacy. He was hesitant to be anything other than the Perfect Charlotte, even after you had been together for some time. Candid conversation from you had helped wear down the walls, and eventually you had been providing him with an outlet he didn’t know he needed.

The ropes couldn’t hope to hold him if he truly desired to be free, but the restriction they provided was enough. Enough to make his breath come out hot and rough while the custom bit kept his mouth forced open.

The gag had been the real show of trust from him, and you knew it. Not only did it stop him from hiding his mouth, but it kept him from trying to keep his image up despite the ropes.

It’s hard to look stoic and in control when you’re drooling down your own chin and onto your chest.

You knew how much the setup affected him. His massive cock had been hard and twitching for the past twenty minutes as you’d added the last few feet of rope, pulling him into his current position. The soft grunts that passed the bit prompted you to kiss him as you finished tying him up, and the soft acknowledgements of the sounds made him twitch and flinch.

Standing in front of him, catching his gaze with your own, you begin to strip. Your movements are fluid, but slow and pointed. You’re teasing him as you slowly discard each item, using a single finger to pull your socks off, and then turning around to play coy as you removed your pants. The approving grunt makes you smile as you walk over to him.

Usually you’d talk to him, touching his body, teasing the lines of his tattoos with your fingers and mouth. Reveling in every twitch and grunt, but tonight you had something else in mind.

Pouring oil onto his cock you begin to coat the twitching member. You’re rougher than usual, pressing your body against him and pumping him against yourself with your hands.

His whole body shivers from the initial pleasure and you can hear the thick ropes groaning against his strength. His voice tumbles from his mouth like wet gravel, full of heat and desire that rumbles in his chest as much as it fills the room. Precum bubbles up from his tip, almost enough to make you wonder if he didn’t just nearly orgasm.

“Kata, my love, don’t cum yet.” You chide gently, even though you don’t ease up on your actions, causing more of the thick liquid to pool and dribble.

“Don’t cum until I give you permission my sweet,” You lean down and lick his tip and hear a garbled swear nearly shatter in his throat. “Kind,” you suck the tip and squeeze his shaft and hear his skin squeak against the tile floor as he jerks. “Gentle, Ka~ta~kuuuu~ri.”

You punctuated each syllable of his name by swirling your tongue around his tip.

He curls forward at the action, hunched over and looking at you with pleading eyes. Your name falls from his lips in broken pieces, followed by a shivering plea.

“Awww, struggling already, my love?” You tease, stepping forward enough to smear the drool on his chin across his jaw before licking along his bottom lip. “My handsome Kata is so beautiful like this. In all the ways no one else ever gets to see.” You purr.

Grabbing onto the rope harness to steady yourself you straddle his lap, rubbing your ass against the base of his cock. The position puts you almost at face level with Katakuri, even as he straightens up a little to help balance you. You put your weight on his thighs, keeping yourself balanced with the rope harness he’s wearing, and begin to grind your hips along his length.

“What a – mmm – good boy you are.” You purr, running your fingers through his short hair before you caress the side of his cheek. You move your hips in longer strokes, squeezing your thighs together and enjoying the shivers of pleasure as his twitchy, veiny, hot shaft teases your clit and folds so sweetly.

“You won’t cum, hngh…” Your fingers tighten on the harness, pressing yourself into the ropes crossing his abs as you push your hips out to his leaking tip. “Not without me, right?”

He shakes his head, his breath almost coming out in growls as his hips shift to match your movements, pressing himself into your slit more. He’s been on edge since he started lacing himself into the initial harness, and now, almost an hour later he almost needs haki to keep himself under control.

Your voice, your touch, the way you caress him as though he’s delicate, the soft purr in your words as you take control of his body. It sinks into his bones the way the resistance from the ropes sends shivers through his core. He’d pull the world apart at the behest of that gentle purr.

“Ah, Kata!” You cry, the pleasure building in you as you tighten your thighs against his slick cock. The thick veins are perfect as far as you’re concerned. Your arms tremble as you loose your hold on the harness and grab his chest.

“C-Cum!” You demand, your voice filled with pleasure and exertion. “Cum for me, Kata.” You purr the words, lips and teeth teasing one sensitive nipple as your hand stretches to tease the other.

Kata’s rough, panting growls shatter into gravel-laden whimpers as his body bucks into your thighs with less control than he had a moment ago. The ropes groan and dig into his skin as his body tenses rock hard against you. The sounds of his orgasm are enough to push you over your own edge, and you soak his cock in your pleasure as you hear the thick rush of his cum splatter against the cold tile floor.

“Haa… haa -fuck.” You swear, working to catch your breath as you lean into him while he sinks back down onto his heels. You stand on his thighs so you can remove the bit, kissing him along the line of his jaw tenderly.

“Good job.” You say, praising him, as he shifts and kisses you sweetly.

Check out the event - requests are accepted until 7/31/2023 EST

[multifandomfix]

Catch A Glimpse — Birdie Jay

Summary: Birdie unintentionally flusters you while she changes and she decides to play it up a bit.

Word Count: 1,224

Warnings: Suggestive, sexually charged, nudity, lots of teasing

You’d just arrived at the island, the glittering coastline still fresh in your mind as you stepped into your designated room at Miles Bron’s opulent getaway. The tension of the journey seemed to melt away as soon as you saw the comfort of your surroundings, the plush bed, the golden hues bouncing off the walls, the hum of soft music in the distance. But any hint of relaxation was shattered when Birdie Jay bounced into your space, bag in hand, without so much as a knock.

"Oh my God, can you believe this place," she exclaimed, twirling around the room, already peeling off her colorful kaftan like she owned every corner of the island.

You stood awkwardly, trying to give her space, but your eyes drifted to her despite yourself. Birdie was magnetic, in every sense of the word. Always too much and yet somehow, not enough. She flung her kaftan onto the bed without missing a beat, leaving her completely bared to you.

A gasp escaped your lips before you could even stop yourself. Your face burned, and you quickly turned away, eyes fixed on the floor. "I—sorry, I didn’t—"

Birdie laughed, that bright, carefree sound filling the room. "Oh, don’t be so shy. You can look if you want, I don’t mind."

You blinked, unsure whether to take that as flirting or just another moment of Birdie’s notorious carelessness. You never knew with her. Her boundaries seemed to shift on a whim, so predicting anything about her was near impossible. "No, I just didn’t know you didn’t have anything on under there," you stammered.

"Darling, please." Birdie rolled her eyes in that exaggerated way she always did, like everything was just one big joke. She pulled out a bikini from her bag, the flash of bright color, and very little material catching your eye, even though you were desperately trying to avert your gaze.

You bit your lip, trying to focus on anything else —the pattern on the rug, the painting on the wall— anything but her. Yet, your gaze flickered back to Birdie, just for a split second. And she caught you. Of course, she did.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, a mischievous smile spreading across her lips. "What, you like the view?" she teased, bending over slowly as she slipped the bikini bottoms on. She made as if she were stretching, but you knew better.

Heat rose to your cheeks again, and you immediately averted your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. "Birdie…"

"Mhm," she hummed, clearly enjoying how flustered you’d become. "I knew you couldn’t resist." She straightened up, her tone suddenly more playful than teasing.

It was hard to tell if she was just toying with you. She had that way about her, making you question her intention. Was she serious? Did she mean it? Or was this just her being Birdie, loving the attention, thriving off the confusion she could stir up in you with a single sentence?

You heard her footsteps behind you, soft and deliberate, and you felt her presence before you saw her reflection in the mirror. Your body tensed. Her fingers brushed over your shoulders before she gently covered your eyes, blocking out your view completely. You could hear her breathing, feel the warmth of her breath against your neck.

"Don’t worry, I’ll help you out," she whispered, her lips barely an inch away from your ear. Her voice had gone low, sultry even, sending a shiver down your spine. "You just gotta tie me up first," she said next, this time with her usual chipperness.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you fought the urge to turn around, to meet her gaze, to confront whatever this was. Was she really flirting? Or was this some kind of game?

"Birdie…" you managed to say, before your voice caught in your throat.

"I mean the bathing suit, silly," she said, uncovering your eyes and turning around so you could tie the top in place.

For a moment, you didn’t dare move, unsure of what would happen next. Maybe she was going to leave it at that. This had all been a harmless tease, a playful moment, nothing more. So you did as she asked and tied the suit, being sure to double knot it so there’d be no unintentional slip ups.

But when you’d finished, she turned back to you, leaning closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "You’ve always been cute when you’re nervous."

Your breath hitched, and your mind raced. Wait, was she really serious this whole time? The air between you had shifted, it felt different, heavier. Gone was the playful Birdie you’d always thought you’d known. This was a different side of her, and it was kind of exhilarating.

You turned your head enough to catch her gaze. She was so close. Too close to be playing around anymore. Her eyes were half lidded, lips curved in a smirk that said she knew exactly what she was doing. And that made it all the more dangerous and enticing.

"Is this a joke," you asked softly, needing to know for sure. After all, Birdie had a habit of blurring lines, of keeping everyone guessing.

She still smiled, but it had softened, it felt more intimate, more real. "Does it feel like a joke?"

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. "I don’t know what this feels like."

Birdie tilted her head, studying your face as if weighing her next move. Then, with surprising tenderness, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Well, I guess we’ll have to figure that out, won’t we?"

The room felt warmer suddenly, or maybe it was just you, standing there, caught in this moment that felt like the start of something you hadn’t been prepared for. You’d always admired Birdie from a distance, with her chaotic energy and her lack of inhibitions, but this was definitely different. This was Birdie in your space, in your world, inviting you into hers in a way that felt far too intimate for comfort.

"Birdie, what do you want," you asked.

Her smile widened, but there was something almost genuine in her eyes now. "I want you. But…" she hesitated, the playfulness dropping just for a moment, "we don’t have to tell anyone. Not yet."

"Not yet," you echoed, your heart pounding.

She shrugged, her smile back in place, though now there was a flicker of something more vulnerable in her gaze. "They don’t need to know everything, do they?"

You didn’t know how to respond. But Birdie didn’t wait for an answer. She took your hand, gently pulling you toward her. "We’ll just keep this between us," she told you, her lips brushing against yours, soft and lingering, sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins.

The kiss may not have been all that long, but it left you breathless and your mind spinning. When she pulled back, her eyes were alight with excitement, as if she’d just discovered something new, something thrilling.

"So, what do you say," she asked, her grin as dazzling as ever. "Are you in?"

You didn’t need to think. You nodded, still reeling from the kiss, still trying to process everything that had just happened.

"Good," Birdie whispered, giving your hand a squeeze. "Now, remember, our little secret."

For anon

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Birdie Jay: @hotshot624, @lady-darkswan3