#And i'm not good at drawing cats but still tried something

[cubur]

Oh, I'm so sorry to hear about the cat's illness. my cat has also been sick since October last year. it was hard to look at her in the fall. she lost a quarter of her weight. now I give her injections every day so that she can digest food.

maybe something with fem!sasunaru and cats? they all sleep in the same bed :3

Here〜

[cillyscribbles]

obsessed with ideas of what a fight between those two would look like...

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I am genuinely so proud of my wife for becoming a crafts person over the last few years.

Like, I was always a crafts person. I was an arts and crafts kid. My parents sent me to classes or summer camps or after-school clubs pretty much continuously from when I was about 5 years old, and over the years I did metalsmithing, stained glass, polymer clay sculpting, loom weaving, oil painting, charcoal drawing, clothes-making & tailoring, carpentry, woodcarving, macrame, miniatures, beading, jewelry-making, basket weaving, leatherworking, paper-making, bookbinding, papier mache, decoupage, sand sculpting, and probably more that I'm forgetting. There was never a day in my life while I was growing up when my entire bedroom floor wasn't taken up by 2-5 different ongoing art projects. As an adult, it's given me the firm confidence that I can walk up to pretty much any crafting skill, and get the hang of it, and enjoy doing it.

My wife never had that. She wrote, but that was really her only artistic outlet. Art & craftsmanship were just not any of her business. She always expressed admiration for my gumption when it came to making things with my hands, usually with a "bigger idiots than me have done it" attitude, but she was certain she'd be bad at it if she tried it, and that she wouldn't have fun. As evidence, she would offer every time in her life when she had attempted to learn a craft, and didn't have fun, and all the Arts And Crafts kids picked it up a lot faster than her.

Which like - yeah! Learning how to do a new craft is a skill all on its own! Fine motor control is a skill developed over time! So is spatial reasoning, and materials intuition! She wasn't just 'trying to learn wreath-making,' or whatever, she was trying to learn how to learn how to make something with her hands AND wreath-making, at the same time, so of course it would take her longer than the kids who already had the first part, and of course it would be more frustrating for her. I knew she wasn't uniquely bad at crafts: she just didn't know how to approach picking them up, because she was never encouraged to learn.

And then the pandemic hit.

And while we were all trapped inside and going insane in new and exciting ways to all of us, she tentatively decided to pick up embroidery. She probably wouldn't stick with it, she explained: she'd probably be bad at it. It probably wouldn't be fun. But she thought embroidery was pretty, and literally what else did she have going on?

And then she did stick with it. For over a year. And she got pretty good at it! She embellished a baseball hat for her sister with cactuses and wildflowers from where they grew up which came out adorable. She made an embroidered portrait of one of our friends' cat that they still have displayed in their entryway. And she discovered - and remarked on it often, with mild surprise - that she was having fun. She'd say a lot of stuff like "this stitch was so frustrating at first, but now that I get it I really like doing it," or "I kept getting this tangled but I've figured it out now. I just needed to relax."

Then she took up pottery. We did that as a couple for about a year, too. Now she's a knitter.

And it's just been so great, to see her eyes light up when she sees a sweater she likes, and hear her say, "I could make that!" She's slowly let go of the perfectionism that I think holds a lot of people back from doing crafts: that dismay when you make a mistake which leads to discarding a whole project, or starting something over. More and more she's taking on the veteran crafter attitude of "oops lol, whatever I'll just keep going." She's picking things up faster. She's taking pleasure in learning incremental steps. She's started to see crafting as something that relaxes and engages her, instead of as something inherently frustrating. I've gotten to watch her learn to find joy in making something with her hands. I always knew she was creative and artistic and capable of learning how to do anything. It's been so much fun to watch her start to take that on as part of how she sees herself.

We have this running joke about how she will prematurely declare herself to be in an era. Like, she'll go swimming twice and announce that she's now in her "swimming era," and then never go swimming again. Or she'll make one smoothie, buy a bunch of fruit, and declare that we are now in a "smoothie era," and then a week later we have to throw out a bunch of fruit that's gone bad.

The other day (while she was knitting, and I was sitting on the couch next to her doing crochet), she went, "I feel like I've gotten - like, I'm a bit crafty these days, I think. Like, I've done a couple of different crafts, and gotten pretty good at them. I think this is now, kind of, you know...something that I can say that I do."

I supplied that I would even go so far as to say that she was in her "crafting era."

Her eyes widened. "It's an era?"

I pointed out that it was something she'd been doing pretty much continuously for the last three and a half years. That feels like the start of an era to me.

"Yes," she decided. "It's an era. This is my crafts era. I'm a crafts person now."

She's planning to make me a sweater with a duck on it for fall.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Can you do an imagine about the reader going out with an F1 driver (I imagine Charles or Carlos), where the reader speaks their language, but doesn’t tell them. One day they walk in on the reader talking to someone on the phone in French/ Italian or Spanish respectively, and have a talk about it. Reader was hiding their abilities due to an insecurity about their ability. Alternatively they could be at a restaurant, where the reader is forced to use that language to order something.

Speak Baby

Summary: you are going out with Charles, you can speak his language, but don't tell him. You were hiding your abilities due to an insecurity about your ability.

Song: Heaven and Back · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! Also please follow for more! 🫶

Word count: 3.7k

MASTERLIST - F1

The soft glow of the lamp painted the room in hues of amber and gold, the late afternoon sun already having dipped below the horizon.

You were curled up on the plush armchair, a worn copy of “Les Misérables” resting open in your lap, though your attention was entirely focused on the phone pressed to your ear. The French words flowed effortlessly, a melodic stream of conversation with your cousin, Élise, back in Paris.

Laughter bubbled in your chest as Élise recounted a particularly disastrous attempt to bake macarons, the familiar cadence of your mother tongue a soothing balm to your soul.

"…and then, the oven, mon Dieu, it was like a volcanic eruption of powdered sugar!" Élise’s voice, tinged with dramatic exasperation, crackled through the speaker.

You chuckled, a genuine, unrestrained sound, “You know you should just stick to painting, ma chérie. Baking is not for you.”

"Oh, very funny," she retorted good-naturedly, “But you should have seen it! The cat even had a dusting. Anyway, how is le charmant Charles?"

You paused, a smile playing on your lips. "He's…fine," you said, a soft giggle escaping your throat. "He's been working late again, as usual."

“And still no clue about your… little secret?" Élise teased, the question a whisper of anticipation.

"No," you replied, your voice dropping slightly, a hint of nervousness creeping in. "Absolutely not. It's…it's better this way, Élise. I’m not ready."

You knew that you were holding out on Charles, but the thought of him judging you for your French was an insecurity that had been haunting you for years.

You had always felt like you were not good enough, that your accent was too strong and that your grasp on the language was not as good as it should be, even though you grew up with it.

You always felt the need to hide, to not draw attention to yourself, and so this was how it was with Charles.

It was easier to communicate in English with him, to be safe, even if your heart yearned to speak in the language that made you, you.

"You're being silly, ma belle. He'd be enchanted, I'm sure of it," Élise said, her tone gentle, trying to reassure you.

Just as you were about to respond, a distinct sound reached your ears - the click of the front door. Your heart leaped into your throat. Charles was home.

Panic seized you, and you quickly pressed the “end call” button, the dial tone a sharp, jarring contrast to the lilting French you had been immersed in moments before. You closed the “Les Miserables” book with an audible thud, feigning a casual air.

You straightened yourself in the armchair and tried to look as though you were simply relaxing, a wave of frustration beginning to wash over you for not being able to share this part of yourself with Charles, but also relief because you almost got caught.

"Hey," Charles said, his voice laced with that endearing weariness you had come to adore, as he walked into the room, tossing his keys onto the side table.

He hadn't noticed the phone in your hands and he pulled off his suit jacket and hung it up on the hanger behind the door. He looked exhausted. "Long day."

"Hi," you replied, your voice a little too high-pitched, betraying the sudden jolt of adrenaline still coursing through you.

You tried to act as nonchalant as possible, hoping he wouldn't notice the flush creeping up your neck, or the way your fingers were still tensed against the phone.

He glanced at you, his blue eyes, usually so bright, clouded with fatigue. "Everything alright? You seem…tense." He took a seat on the sofa opposite you, his gaze intense as he looked at you.

You had been with Charles for a year now, and he was always able to suss something out.

You forced a smile, "Just had a long chapter to read, that's all.” You showed him the book, hoping it would be enough distraction. “It’s quite intense, actually." You pointed to the book, gesturing with your hand. "This guy Valjean, he's been through it."

He seemed to accept your explanation, dropping back against the sofa cushions with a sigh. "Well, whatever it is, you should relax. Maybe we could order some food? I'm starving."

You nodded, relieved. The moment had passed, but the unspoken secret hung heavy in the air between you. The rest of the evening unfolded in its usual way, a comfortable rhythm you both had established.

You talked about your day, laughed at a silly movie, and shared a meal under the soft lamplight. Yet, beneath the surface of normalcy, the secret you harboured continued to prick at you.

He kept stealing glances at you, making you wonder if he might suspect something, but he never said anything.

“So you’re telling me he still hasn’t found out yet?” She asked with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“No, and I’ll keep it that way,” you replied, your smile fading. “It’s too risky, Élise. What if he thinks I’m a fraud? What if he thinks I’ve been lying?”

“Oh, come on,” Élise scoffed, “He’s clearly smitten with you, mon amie. I can hear it in your voice!”

You sighed, staring out the window at the grey sky. “You don’t know him, Élise. His native language is French, he knows it like the back of his hand. He’d notice if my French isn’t perfect.”

“And what if it is?” Élise countered.

You were about to reply, when you heard his voice from the kitchen. You jerked, your heart leaping into your throat. “I have to go, Élise. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, bisous,” Élise said, and the line went dead.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The roar of the Ferrari engines was a constant hum, a background score to the chaotic elegance of the Formula One paddock. You watched Charles, a whirlwind of charm and practiced ease, navigate the PR games with Carlos Sainz.

They were a study in contrasts – Charles, all focused energy and effortless smiles, and Carlos, a more grounded, almost playful foil. You knew this dance well, the mandatory media obligations that came with the territory of being a Ferrari driver.

You were happy to be a spectator today. You knew, with a familiar twist of warmth in your chest, that Charles would find you later.

You had a few hours of freedom, a rare commodity in this world of tight schedules and constant movement. You decided to explore. The paddock was a labyrinth of team trucks, hospitality suites, and workshops, a microcosm of the competitive energy that fueled the sport.

You wandered, absorbing the sights and sounds, the clatter of tools, the clipped conversations in a dozen different languages. You’d always been drawn to the undercurrents of these places, the human stories unfolding beneath the glossy veneer of glamour and speed.

That's when you heard it – a voice, high-pitched with panic, cutting through the general noise.

"Est-ce que quelqu'un parle français?" it called out, the words sharp and rushed. " S'il vous plaît, quelqu'un ?" Does anyone speak French? Please, someone?

The man, standing near a catering area, was clearly distressed. He was middle-aged, his face flushed, hands trembling slightly as he gestured erratically. A small crowd of staff had gathered around him, their faces a mixture of concern and helplessness.

They spoke encouragingly in English, but it was clear that they didn’t understand a word he was saying, which was why he was getting more frantic.

You hesitated. You knew French, fluently after all. It really was an insecurity you'd carried since childhood, a fear that your accent wasn't good enough, that you wouldn't be considered “truly” French.

Charles, in his easy, casual fluency, only amplified that feeling. It was easier to let him be the French one, to navigate that world without your input.

But looking at the man, his distress growing with each passing second, your resolve crumbled. You couldn't stand by and watch him suffer.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed past the people, your voice hesitant but clear, "Excusez-moi, monsieur. Je parle français. Qu'est-ce qui se passe?" Excuse me, sir. I speak French. What's going on?

The man's eyes widened, his face flooded with relief. "Ah, merci mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, his hands coming to clasp yours. "C'est terrible! J'ai perdu mon sac, avec tous mes documents et mes clés. Je dois partir cet après-midi, et je suis complètement coincé."

His words tumbled out in a rush, a torrent of worries and anxieties. This is terrible! I lost my bag, with all my documents and my keys. I have to leave this afternoon, and I'm completely stuck

You listened patiently, your own French flowing effortlessly as you reassured him. You asked him for details about the bag, about where he’d last seen it.

You found out that he was here for a family visit, and he had to catch a train in the next couple of hours. With a mixture of calm questioning and reassuring words, you helped him retrace his steps.

You spoke softly, your voice a calming balm to his panic. The staff around you, previously frustrated, looked on with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude.

You felt a small spark of pride, a quiet satisfaction in using the skill that you have always kept hidden.

After what felt like an eternity, you spotted it – a small black bag tucked behind a stack of boxes in a corner. The man let out a cry of delight, his face cracking into a wide, genuine smile. "Merci, merci mille fois!" he cried, taking the bag and beaming at you. "Vous êtes un ange!" Thank you, thank you a thousand times! You are an angel!

You helped him check through the contents, making sure nothing was missing. You even offered him some water and a seat to calm him. He thanked you profusely again and again. He finally started to relax and calm down.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you." he said again, this time speaking English clearly, even though he had not, before. He smiled warmly at you.

"It's no problem," you replied, smiling back. A small voice interrupted.

"Hey babe, what's going on here? I saw this crowd?" Charles asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He placed a hand on the small of your back.

"This gentleman lost his bag, and couldn't communicate with anyone here. I was just helping him," you explained.

"Ah, but you were speaking French? I didn't know that you spoke French. Good job ma chérie," Charles said a little surprised.

"Oh, I... I learned some in school," you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. You felt a flush creep onto your cheeks.

You could feel the lie hanging in the air, heavy and uncomfortable.

Charles tilted his head, his eyes searching your face, "That’s really cool." He turned his attention to the man, addressing him in perfect French.

You watched Charles smoothly reassure the man that everything was fine and offer him any help that he needed. The man seemed mesmerized by Charles, thanking him profusely.

You watched them briefly, the ease with which Charles switched between two languages, how comfortable he was in the role of translator. It was a stark contrast to your feelings of self-consciousness.

“So, should we get going?” Charles said to you, turning to you, his hand finding yours.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. You’d helped someone out, and it felt good. But the lie, that little secret you still held, bothered you. More so than usual now that he knew.

As Charles led you away, you could feel his gaze on you, a silent question in his eyes. You knew you couldn't keep this hidden much longer.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, dancing shadows across the Ferrari base. The air, still warm from the day’s heat, hummed with a quiet energy. You lay nestled in the hammock chair, Charles’s strong back providing a solid anchor as you sat comfortably on his lap.

The gentle rocking motion lulled you both, a peaceful rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the quiet whispers of the wind. You’d been dating Charles for a year now, and these quiet moments were your favorite.

Being alone, intertwined, was bliss.

He nuzzled his face into your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. You closed your eyes, your own breathing slowing, the world fading away.

You’d almost drifted off, the line between sleep and wakefulness blurring, when a voice sliced through the tranquil silence.

“Monsieur Leclerc, le débriefing commence bientôt!” a young voice called out, the French words sharp and clear. Mr. Leclerc, the debriefing begins soon!

You blinked your eyes open, startled, and looked around for the source of the sound.

A young woman, her face etched with a mixture of frustration and relief, stood a short distance away. She was clearly a member of the Ferrari staff, her uniform a stark contrast to the relaxed atmosphere you and Charles had created.

“Mademoiselle, je vais bientôt réveiller Charles, alors ne vous inquiétez pas,” you said, the words flowing easily, a comfortingly familiar cadence in your mind. Miss, I'll wake Charles up soon, so don't worry.

You watched her face register surprise, then a wave of relief.

“Merci beaucoup mademoiselle Y/N, je vous laisse faire,” she replied, her voice softening. Thank you very much Miss Y/N, I'll leave you to it.

“De rien, je suis désolé de t'avoir fait le chercher,” you said, a slight blush creeping up your neck. You felt a pang of guilt for making her search for Charles. You're welcome, I'm sorry I made you look for it.

She gave you a small, thankful nod before turning and heading back towards the base.

You were about to nudge Charles awake when you felt a movement in your lap. His eyes, a startling shade of blue, were already fixed on you, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"That didn't sound like 'school French' ma chérie," he muttered, a playful yet probing tone to his voice. Your heart lurched, and a cold dread settled in your stomach.

You could feel your cheeks flush, the blood rushing to your head. This was it. Your little secret, the one you'd guarded for so long, was about to unravel.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice coming out a little higher and breathier than you intended. You tried to play it off, hoping your denial would be convincing enough. "I learned some French phrases, that's all."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. "Some phrases? You just held an entire conversation with Nathalie, in perfect, effortless French. Where did you learn that?"

You fidgeted, your fingers toying with the drawstring of his sweatpants. "Uh...well...you know, it's just...I've always been a good language learner." The explanation sounded weak even to your own ears.

Charles gently tilted your chin up so that your eyes meet. His touch was soft, but his gaze was intense. “Y/N,” he said, his voice lower now. “You’re fluent. Why have you been hiding this from me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your unspoken secret. And you knew you couldn’t lie to him any longer. “It’s stupid, really,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I was always just…insecure about it. My native language is English, and I'm fairly average. When I started learning French, which was young, it just came naturally to me. I didn't think I was actually... good. I thought if I spoke it around you, you'd think I sound awful, like those tourists that always try and speak French to you.” You looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

He took your hands in his, his thumbs stroking your knuckles. “Ma chérie, that’s ridiculous. I’m fascinated by languages. I spent so much time learning other languages for the sport, plus how could I ever think you sound awful. You could never sound bad.”

His words were soothing, a balm to your wounded pride. You looked up, your eyes searching his face. “Really?” you whispered, still a little unsure.

He chuckled, a warm, comforting sound. “Bien sûr, Y/N. You’re amazing, in every language. And I am so incredibly curious. When did you learn it? How good are you even?” He had a teasing glint in his eyes now, and the tension that had been plaguing you started to dissipate.

“Since I was a kid. My grandmother was half-French and she taught me, always using French. She wanted me to have another language to use. She wanted me to have something special, so I never told anyone in school or anything.” you admitted.

“And you kept this hidden from me? For all this time?” Charles asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You nodded sheepishly. “I thought you would think I was trying to show off, I guess, and I was honestly just scared I’d be awful.”

He squeezed your hands, his thumb drawing small circles on your skin. “You are far from awful, Y/N, and I promise I never would have thought that, ever. But,” he added, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, “I do have a few questions. And you're going to have to answer them… in French.”

“bébé, il faut que tu fasses le point avec l'équipe!” you said, the words slipping out naturally in French. Baby, you need to check in on the team!

Charles only grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me, ma chérie,” he said, his tone warm and affectionate and full of love.

“I know I’m so sorry.” you said, putting your head in your hands, feeling a flush of embarrassment wash over you. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I was just so scared.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Don’t be sorry, mon amour,” he murmured, his voice husky. “It’s incredibly endearing, and it's one more thing I love about you. You have to tell me everything though from now on okay?”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”

He smiled, then his eyes glinted with a new mischievousness. “So, you’ve been keeping secrets from me, have you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Only this one, I swear.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning in closer. “I think that deserves a punishment.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, raising an eyebrow, excitement coursing through you.

His lips found yours and he deepened the kiss, pushing you gently back on the hammock. The language barrier was forgotten as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt.

You could feel the passion in him, the soft moaning as he kissed your neck. You could feel yourself falling further and further into him, completely and utterly in love.

It was a long time before you pulled away for air, your cheeks flushed and your heart racing.

“What was I saying about meetings?” you breathlessly said, putting a hand on your chest, hoping your heart would slow down.

Charles chuckled, running his hand through his slightly dishevelled hair. “They can wait,” he murmured, his eyes locking with yours, “There’s something much more urgent that we need to deal with, my petite française.”

You laughed then, and pulled him in for another kiss, knowing that your hidden language was now just another way to connect with the man you loved.

The rain outside continued to fall, a soft and gentle melody to the start of another chapter in your love story.

And you knew, with absolute certainty, that this new language you had shared with each other would only bring you closer, in ways you could never have imagined. . . .

[spicyllewyn]

Kinktober 1. - Accidental stimulation.

Marc Spector x F!Reader.

Tags & warnings. Accidental stimulation + semi-public. (+18)

Word count. 1.4k

Summary. The only space in the car is on your best friend's lap.

Kinktober masterlist.

Dragging Marc out of his apartment was undoubtedly always an odyssey for anyone who tried it. Fortunately, you had a little something hidden in your pocket called 'the best friend privilege' that always resulted in him fulfilling your whims.

That, and the slight feeling of jealousy that invaded him when you spent time with friends who weren't him.

It was a good day for both of you, after all, no matter how big the group of people you went out with was, it was as if you were always in your little world, just him and you. Chatting alone, walking behind the others, and always taking a few minutes to take photos at your request.

In the end, the rest of your acquaintances had already gotten used to it, and as distant as you might seem, they still loved and included you two. So it was no surprise to either of you that after lunch, the arcade, and the movies, they were relentlessly urged to take you back to one of your apartments.

"There's no way we'll all fit in your car." Six people in a car meant for five. You leaned a little after saying it, your eyes calculating the space in the back seat.

"Sit on Marc." The owner of the car shrugged as he jingled the keys in his hand, waiting for a response. It was a lost battle; both he, Marc, you, and the other ones knew that there was no way out other than simply accepting the offer.

"I'm not sure how safe that is." You hummed, pursing your lips before turning to Marc. "What do you think?"

He shrugged too.

"It's a short ride from here to my apartment."

You sighed; if he was convinced, it meant you were being the difficult one.

In a matter of minutes, everyone was squeezed into the car, you on top of Marc, the others having to shrink their bodies to avoid invading each other's space.

"Sit properly," he murmured, irritated by the way you were sitting almost on his knees to avoid bothering him. Because yes, both of you were basically inseparable, but Marc was a bit of a cat when it came to his relationships – sometimes he wanted physical contact, sometimes he wanted to push you into another room so that he could have some space.

He slid an arm around your waist and pulled your body until your back was leaning against his chest. Of course he didn't think through his actions and the consequences they could bring, or at least that's what he realized when the car passed its first stop and he felt you jump on his lap.

He gasped, low enough that you wouldn't hear it.

“Did you have a good time today?” You whispered as your fingers softly caressed his forearm until you reached the only bracelet Marc wore on his wrist. A gift from you.

He only could hope that you wouldn't see how the hairs on his arm stood up at how delicate your fingers were, causing chills to run down his entire spine.

“Mhm.” It was hard to concentrate with your ass pressed against him like that.

The music in the car wasn't loud enough to be annoying, but it was loud enough to cover your conversation as well as any curses that left Marc's lips. Next to him, one of his friends was dozing, the other was scrolling on her phone lazily.

Marc pretended to settle into place and mentally prayed that you wouldn't feel something between his legs starting to wake up, right against the inside of your thighs.

Was it necessary for you to wear that sundress specifically today?

Another small bump in the road and it was enough for Marc's cock to completely harden while you looked out the window and continued making those imaginary drawings on his arm. Of course you felt it, but there wasn't much you could do about it, especially with the way he held you to his body with his arm.

“Fuck.” He muttered, breathless as you shifted in your spot, returning to sit on his hip after the movement of the road caused you to slide down a few inches.

You could feel his hardness pressing between your legs, at one point the clothes being the only thing stopping him from fucking you mercilessly until your legs wouldn't work. His arm tightened around you and you swore the air was escaping your lungs, not knowing exactly if it was because of the way he was crushing you against him or because you could already feel your underwear becoming damp, a heat that you recognized perfectly in your lower abdomen and between your legs.

He pushed your entire body down with his arm, seeking to satisfy himself with that same friction that the pressure of your body gave him, until, of course, that was no longer enough. He pushed his hips up, a discreet movement, somehow, but you could feel it perfectly.

The fact that you weren't facing him gave you the chance to bite your lower lip and silence any noise that Marc tried to snatch from your throat with his actions.

The second push was less discreet, more desperate. He buried himself between your legs as if he wanted to tear both of your clothes and dig into you once and for all.

“Are they ever going to fix these damn streets?” The boy mumbled from the driver's seat. Small cement bumps provoked the car to make an almost vibrating movement for just a few seconds.

Marc almost fainted.

You knew it was too much for him when his forehead rested against your shoulder, his curls tickling your cheek and making you smile with how agitated you both were. You raised the hand that was on his arm to stroke his hair, pushing a few strands away from his forehead.

That would be the perfect position for both of you, or at least that's what he thought. Plunging into you to the hilt, your walls milking him as he listened to you moan his name loudly, with you pulling his hair and moving your hips to your liking, maybe he'd even let you keep that beautiful dress on, just lifting it up and moving your panties just a little to the side.

But for now, he'd have to settle for this. For the playful way you pulled at his curls as if it would bother him.

On the contrary, he almost made his lip bleed by having to silence the groan that was stuck in his throat. At this point your juices were wetting his pants and that was what gave him the clue that maybe this wasn't bothering you much.

Or nothing at all, he himself could feel you putting pressure on his erection as you pushed your ass down. As well as the way you spread your legs almost imperceptibly to let him settle between your thighs.

“You are going to make me cum on my fucking pants.” He whispered right in your ear, and you swallowed hard.

His left hand, which was between the car door and your body, slid under your dress, where he squeezed your thigh, his nails digging into your skin. You looked to the opposite side to verify that neither of the two guys had their attention on you and without looking away you moved your hips slowly.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

By the fourth movement you felt Marc's arm tighten around your waist to keep you still, he scratched your thigh, you could feel it. He let the air out of his lungs in a sigh of relief.

You felt the warm liquid against your skin making his jeans wetter and stickier.

“Was it left or right on this corner?”

"Left." Marc stammered, his voice slightly breaking as his forehead remained on your shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest moved your entire body now that you were comfortably leaning against it.

You chuckled.

A few more seconds of silence and you trying to ignore the way Marc's body shook as the car went over a couple more bumps.

His poor cock was too sensitive and he was getting over stimulated.

"See?"

You and Marc looked back at him in the rearview mirror. You smiled, he didn't.

“It wasn't that much of a problem.” He unlocked the car from the driver's seat. “You have to learn to accept favors.”

“Well, tell that to Marc.” You cleared your throat as you opened the car door. “He had to carry me all the way, he must be exhausted.”

He pinched your thigh and you chuckled again.

tag list. @ninebluehearts If you want to be tag please comment it, i'm not adding the usual tag list since i don't know if you want to be tagged on nsfw stuff 👀

[livingdeadhorse]

idk what this is. i like robots. i’ll clean these up later. i think.

anyways while drawing these I started thinking abt like. idk does this count as an AU.

General shit:

I didn't make it clear, but the robots that have pupils were built without a hardcoded purpose. They've always been free to explore what they want to do. The robots with fully colored "scleras" were created with a purpose from the jump, so their creators didn't feel the need to make them appear more "human".

The more expensive a robot's parts are, the less clunky it is.

Right now, I'm going with "their human family built them" but that's liable to change.

The designs are also liable to change because uh. duh.

Celestia Ludenberg:

Viewed the robots with an imbued purpose as interesting and superior (something something humanity's advancement). She wants to be praised like that, so she emulates them

Her cat loves how much heat she radiates so it's always near her.

Most of her upgrades are cosmetic but if they aren't, they're stupid. She won't upgrade her CPU or her motherboard, but she'll load up with three 4090s that her other components can't even keep up with. Yes, she does it to flex.

She'll distract from bootleg, refurbished, or shoddily painted parts by turning on her RGB. It gets annoying.

She knows that she's fairly unsettling and she revels in it.

All things considered, her cable management is pretty good.

Her gambling skill is still just luck here, but she tells everyone it's because she has a never-seen-before GPU(& CPU) that does calculations at insane speeds.

Most don't believe her but have no way to disprove her lie.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

I can't decide if he was built by his father or his grandfather.

Either way, he was built before Toranosuke's downfall, so his internals were all pretty expensive for the time. Luckily for him, that means he was slightly future-proof and has a viable upgrade path.

Unluckily for him, this means he's stuck with really old parts and his 8gb of RAM can barely keep up in a 32gb world sadge

His chassis is built from secondhand or scrap parts. It's why his joints are so ancient in comparison to the rest of him and why he has so much cabling that he can't seem to manage.

Shit chassis = shit airflow = he is always overheating

BUDDY IS YOUR CPU BURNING HOW IS THERE SMOKE

Older tech = LOUD AF. The class bought him new fans to avoid the loud ass whirring. It's not quiet but he used to sound like a jet engine.

He runs on Debian. It was originally going to be Arch since it's lightweight but Debian's whole "old but stable" reputation fits him more. I don't see him properly dealing with bleeding edge software anyways.

His room is filled with past HDDs that no longer have storage. He deems all educational material important so he refuses to delete any lessons. He doesn't have the money for SSDs.

Mukuro Ikusaba:

Is usually in reconnaissance mode, meaning she has a shit ton of hidden cameras in her chassis

This used to benefit Fenrir. Now it benefits Junko.

She can have her parts shifted around with no issue to make room for a better arsenal.

She’s durable in her reconnaissance mode but she’s nigh on untouchable in her combat mode. Her chassis gets 10x bulkier and she can split her attention to several different tasks on the battlefield.

Fenrir Mercenary Group doubles as a weapons company. Mukuro is the only model of her kind though.

They tried to give her reconnaissance model the look of a “normal girl” so she could gather info more efficiently. They failed real bad. They also didn’t account for the fact that Mukuro isn’t good at socializing.

She allocates a CPU core to a process dedicated to Junko. 24/7 365

She believes herself to be less capable of emotion than she actually is. She can’t seem to find the system process that triggers such painful emotions.

Chihiro Fujisaki

Each “fold” in her skirt doubles as a screen. Think of the skirt as having two layers: the top shell and the under shell. The top shell is what doubles as a screen.

Optimized her hardware to work on code as fast as possible (fingers, skirt, etc).

She tends to test out new software on herself regardless of their compatibility with her pre-existing shit. She constantly has to reinstall her OS, but it’s all fun for her.

Speaking of her OS, I was going to make her run on Gentoo but IDK cause of the compile times. It’d be faster if she used distcc but I can’t see her screwing over her classmates like that lol.

So I’m between Nix and Arch.

Insecure about the fact that she overhauled her original model so extensively. Got made fun of for being a ‘defective’ robot. Her father supports her modifications but she still feels bad about having ‘failed’ somehow.

Cue identity issues

She helps out her classmates when it comes to repairs.

Tendency to stay up programming leads to high uptimes. If her friends notice her lagging or crashing, they’ll try to get her to shut down. (In a computer sense lol, not an emotional shut down)

Do y’all remember the xz utils backdoor? Yeah that’s how extensively she combs through code.

Sayaka Maizono

I can’t decide if she was built to be an idol or was originally some other type of robot.

Loves to make kids smile, so she has a sort of candy mechanism in her arm.

Everything about her glows or spins. You will never get bored looking at her.

Her skirt isn’t actually see through I just didn’t feel like erasing the hip joints lmao.

If corpos give her manager enough money, she has to perform with literal ads on her.

State-of-the art facial recognition software. It makes her fans feel special to have their names remembered.

She has a regular sleep cycle due to how load-intensive her everyday life is. Has to shut down for a couple hours every week at least.

Her psychic ability is just her running a million calculations based on people’s behavior and sensing which one is most plausible. This feature is in place to avoid PR disasters during interviews or public appearances.

There really aren’t enough worker’s rights regulations in place for robots.

The company gets alerts whenever she freaks tf out, so she feels even more stifled and repressed. Chihiro helped remove this.

Kyoko Kirigiri

Can’t decide if she was built by her father or grandfather. Probably just built by Jin and he “left” her in Fuhito’s care.

Fuhito made her go through several modifications, hardcoding his own investigative skills into her system.

Her grandfather loves her but has fucked up ideas about her own autonomy.

The events of DR:K still happen. She chose not to replace her hands.

Fuhito doesn’t make much use of a backdoor in her system anymore. He used it a lot more when she was a child but he sees her as a viable heir of the Kirigiri clan now. Chihiro isolated the backdoor to a separate SSD anyhow.

Still complicated father-daughter issues

Everything about her (but her OS) is proprietary, probably commissioned from Towa Industries. Her OS is a fork of Mint. The Windows 7 UI is just because I imagine her grandfather is One of Those lmao.

Has way too many scanners and sensors. She can’t test any evidence herself but she can gather a fair bit of information. Has a vast database for cross-comparison anyways.

Same issues as Togami and Mukuro: sees herself as less capable of emotion than she actually is.

The ramen noodle incident called for actual repairs.

Byakuya Togami

His superiority complex is far worse because he was literally CREATED to be the perfect Togami. You can’t tell him shiiiiiiit.

Gold joints. Scoffs at those with unoptimized cable management or software.

He’s constantly streamlining his own processes. Brings up that he runs on his own OS when Nobody Asked.

Had a similar backdoor to Kyoko’s but Koji did check that one. Obsessively. Nobody would tell Byakuya but He Just Knew. The lack of privacy irritated him. Aloysius helped fix it once Togami finally took over.

Only trusts Aloysius with his repairs. Has a hard time admitting when he needs repairs in the first place so Aloysius hides it under “monthly maintenance”.

Does everything from the terminal even when he 1) shouldn’t and 2) can’t. Bragging rights. He has written a bunch of his own scripts though to speed things up.

Kernel and OS provided to him by Koji. (UNIX-based. Proprietary) Byakuya maintains and builds his own updates. Doesn’t trust cheapskate peasants to do it for him.

Anti-FOSS. For him at least.

Has glasses for the aesthetics. Doesn’t need them.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

God your designs are so fucking good bro, I'd love to know how the design process went

lmfao, I can give some insights

Caine's design was mostly an accident. In the scrapped initial intro animatic for this AU, he had a placeholder design until I could finalize him when I went to clean up the frames

which became this, then this, then...

He literally got designed as the animatic went on, the coat on shoulders was a subconscious approach because I blame One Piece for making me a coat-on-shoulders whore. His final coat design is mostly taken from my own oc lol

up to this point, I had no idea how he would've been colored until I did this shitpost

Pomni's is weird too

She was partially inspired by both the Circus breach crack idea, Pauline from my Unexpected Reunion AU, and Mystery!Pomni because I do love women (in suits)

so if Caine was designed overtime within an animatic, Pomni's design spanned fucking AUs-

Ragatha was literally just me thinking, "hm. what if. hear me out. maid. but tattered skirt cus puppet revolution time"

this is her VERY first appearance and it hasn't changed much since leave me alone let me enjoy women being gay

Now, Kingr is actually the closest ANY design in this AU would come to it's base inspiration Lies of P, because AUGH King of Puppets my beloved

He started as a boss design from the get go then reverse engineered to look more friendly, because by the time I was designing him, I was already incorporating the idea of Pomni having to fight bosses so she could free them from these insane forms of theirs

This idea was recycled from my other AU for fnaf btw, the Eternal Eclipse AU where Freddy has to free the other Glamrocks from their "Primal forms" by fighting them WITH THE POWER OF ROCK AND ROLLLLLLLLLL (which are GIGANTIC and INSANE, sound familiar yet?)

back to the rest, I actually didn't really know what I wanted for Jax, aside from a Cheshire Cat motif from Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland because love that mofo and Jax's constant smile reminds me of him

I guess that's why his initial design was so unnecessarily cluttered and so hard to draw, because all I knew was that I wanted it to be loose, flowy, bouncy and airy, like an actual cartoon. But, still respecting the laws of reality somewhat

and then I had to switch the outfit out, because at around this time, The Patriarch's design was finalized, and I didn't want people to start to think Jax was associated with him purely due to similar palettes. So I sneakily swapped it out with an explorer's outfit (since I was thinking of Jax as the team's scout), and tried to play it off as simply a "oh it was hard to draw"

He was even supposed to have goggles in the newer design, but I scrapped it because I'm repeating the same mistake of making him too cluttered again.

Z is a pretty straightforward one, although they diverged from the initial idea. My first thought was making them a brawler of sorts because they were initially going to be Pomni's training buddy, so I looked up "Victorian brawler" and yoinked the outfit I liked.

The concept of Z being the training dummy was then recycled to be Kingr's role instead because Kingr was more of a tank character than Z, and in turn, she became the weaponsmith

Each part of Z was also inspired by something that randomly came to mind when I was trying to wrack my brain with what parts should they have:

the hook peg is from Hiccup, the other peg is from A series of Unfortunate Events, the antler is a reference to Mystery!Zooble but combined with the Minecraft Warden's palette, spiked chokers were taken from my own sona's eel tongue. The flexible arms are very much Doc ock

Gangle... She was the hardest to design that my brain is blocking me from remembering the process because it was so traumatizing /j

I just know that like Caine, her design was also mostly an accident. Iirc, she wasn't meant to have cat ears/motif in the first place, but after I finished the mask with the <:3 face I went like "fuck it we ball" and went furry mode

I think she was also meant to have painted whiskers, and the only reason why she doesn't is I forgor 💀

There was no inspo for her outfit except maybe Disney Cinderella because I was only putting what worked and discarded what didn't (not recommended)

The double ribbon arms was literally just me thinking the ends are her little fingies, and her "feet" is just me wanting to make her ribbons look like a part of her dress and looking flowy because ew feet

anyways if you can't tell, there's a pattern here: recycle ideas, take inspo, look it up or fuck it we ball when all else fails lol

the lesson here is to not follow in my footsteps because I keep stepping on shit /lh

[haikyu-mp4]

November

word count; 1033 – f!reader

Kozume Kenma did not want to be in the library right now. If he had his way, he would be asleep under a warm duvet all day now that classes had ended for the semester. Unfortunately, he had a lot to learn before exams, and there was no time to waste.

He chose a seat by the table in the back, which was only occupied by one other student, who he didn’t acknowledge at all. You eventually took notice of him, though. The cute guy with the outgrown bleach was looking down at his schoolwork with a frown, and you were very amused. You stretched your arm out to get his attention, and Kenma eventually looked up with a face that bridged between annoyed and confused. He looks like a kitten, you thought. "What did that book ever do to you?"

"It mocks my lack of will. So if you could try not to distract me, that would be great," he answered, which ended your conversation abruptly. You smirked to yourself, picked up a pen and got to work on your next drawing after taking a sip from your water bottle. Kenma calmly put on his headphones, a sign to please leave him alone.

After about half an hour, Kenma sat back in his seat to stretch. His spine cracked, and he clapped his cheeks to stay awake. You took this as your opportunity and flipped your drawing pad to show him the newest masterpiece. Kenma turned his head at the motion, and his face quickly fell in disbelief. You had drawn him how he looked today, except with ears and a nose that resembled a calico cat. He frowned when he noticed your wide and proud smile. Annoyingly enough, he was impressed by your unusual art style. When Kenma looked down at his notes again, he couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his face. A light rosy colour tinted his cheeks despite his efforts to stay cool, and your heart fluttered. Mission accomplished.

A week later, even closer to exams, Kenma made his way to the library again. To his surprise, the woman he still didn't know the name of was there too. With a quick rundown of positives and negatives in his head, he decided to take a seat across from you.

You sat like that every day for the whole school week. Kenma tried his best to cram as many facts as he could and actually started to feel like this exam might go well. He didn't quite know what the person across from him was working on, but you had several different coloured pens and even a small box of watercolours along with a brush that somehow stored the water you needed in the handle. He started wondering, and before he could stop himself, "Are you allowed to paint in here?"

Your eyes met, unconsciously having a staring contest for one too many seconds. Oh, so he wants to talk to me now? When his eyes wandered around your face and hands, he noticed that you weren’t exactly being careful with your colours either.

"No one has told me not to," you said slowly as if trying to convince him. A small smile graced his lips, and you felt greedy for more of it.

"Sounds like solid reasoning to me," Kenma agreed and leaned back in his chair. His hand lifted to point at the back of your large notepad, "What are you creating now, then?"

Abashingly, you turned it around. You had filled the whole page, and he recognised it as the library you were currently in, but with much more sunshine and colours, orange flowers growing from the books and pink cows making their way across the floor in the back. "I study visual arts. We have to create an exhibition, and my theme is perspective." His mouth fell open slightly as he nodded in understanding when you explained.

"It's cool. You're good at that." Kenma kept his voice low, and something about it was so enticing to you. He spoke so calmly and every emotion of his was a mystery. "I'm Kenma."

"I'm y/n." After settling down from your little conversation, you kept sipping from your water bottle. Kenma’s mouth dried every time he heard the sound. He did his best to clear his throat, realising he hadn’t brought anything to drink.

“Do you have an inspiration?” he asked, mostly wondering if you actually saw the words that way.

The corner of your mouth quirked. “I’ve always like games, it’s affected the way I see the world. Sorry, that probably sounds like childish imagination.”

Kenma thought back to the things he’d imagine when he ran in high school for volleyball practice. The way he’d make it into a game. “No, I… Uh, I totally get it.”

You two naturally fell into silent, individual work again. Kenma kept glancing over at your paintings, but whenever you met his gaze, he would look away. Eventually, the sun went down, and you both started clearing the table, silently packing everything into your bags. Come on, Kenma. Just smile at her and say something. However, somewhat luckily, you beat him to it.

"Hey, Kenma?" He lifted his head swiftly, eyebrows raised, happy that you started the conversation. "Do you want to get a drink?" You weren’t necessarily nervous, but undoubtedly hopeful for his answer. The corners of his mouth lifted in a kind, small smile. You had both picked up your bags and stood beside the table.

"A drink? Yeah, sure." Kenma’s voice sent a shiver down your spine again, and you straightened up with an even broader smile.

"Fun! Cool, cool, cool- The student bar?"

"I've only been there once or twice before, never saw the charm." The student bar had a certain vibe that didn't fit him when he just wanted to drink. A lot of people were there to socialise with new people, and Kenma was not interested.

"The beer is cheaper there," you said in a sing-songy voice to try and convince the handsome man. Kenma wasn't entirely convinced, but if you wanted to go there, then he wouldn't argue.

"Lead the way."

The Schoolyear Series ║ masterlist

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Hi, can I have a request? 😇

I just loved your Steven x virgin reader fic, but what if they are both virgins and Marc talks through Steven where to kiss and how to touch 😏

HI! :D

Of course you can, feel free😊

Oooh, sounds like a beautiful idea😏

The guiding voice

Virgin!Steven Grant x virgin!fem!reader

I'm sorry in advance if there are some butchered words, mistakes or other spelling errors, English isn't my native language.

Warnings/Triggers: Loss of virginity, mention of blood, p in v, fingering, Marc being Marc.

Summary: Marc guides Steven through the process of his and your first time.

"Steven, all you have to do is to listen to me."

Steven looked up, seeing Marc's reflection in the mirror. Steven was nervous the whole time and Marc tried to calm him down. When Steven told you he was still a virgin, he got red like a Tomato, too embarrassed for his own good. But when he heard you were one too and saw you getting flashy red he cooled down.

"But I'm afraid I'll hurt her..." Steven chewed on the inside of his lip.

"You're not going to hurt her. Trust me buddy." Marc shot Steven a charming smile "Oh and I mean, you've jerked off before, you know how that feels, but with a woman it feels better, everything's better."

Steven raised his eyebrows at Marc "Lucky you, it must be easy for you sayin' all that, innit."

"Want me to do it?" Marc's words came out dry but he couldn't hide the sound of his amusement.

Steven looked back up at Marc, "What the actual f- you can't be for real now, mate..."

Marc just shrugged like he said the most harmless thing in the world, "Uhh, just saying. Worst case..."

Steven stepped back, checking himself out in the mirror before glancing back at the clock. Steven and you had been dating for quite a while now, he hasn't told you about his mental condition with Marc living rent free in his head, thinking it might scare you off, he planned to tell you about it when you two got something serious though. Steven expected you to knock at his door any minute, you two agreed to take it a step further tonight.

Steven didn't notice Marc admiring him in the reflection, too anxious about the time.

Marc whistled seductively at Steven, "Ouuh, look at that fine Brit. Mr. Grant about to get into business with a girl. Go get her buddy."

Just after Marc said that, there was a knock on the door. Steven turned back to him, "Bloody American." who in return leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and just grinned cheekily at Steven as he went to the door. He opened the door, seeing indeed you standing there with a smile.

"Hi Steven."

Steven beamed, his heart racing wildly in his chest "Wow, you look amazing!" he greeted you excitedly seeing how you blushed instantly.

"Look at this fine gentleman infront of me." You grinned as Steven stepped back to invite you in.

-

Later that night, you and Steven went into bed together for the next step. Steven was above you, gently kissing you until he heard Marc's voice again

"Quite the catch you got there. Can you feel yourself getting hard? I know I would."

If there was one thing Steven hated about the whole head sharing thing, it was the fact that he couldn't talk back mentally to tell Marc he isn't that inexperienced.

"First, you need to get her all needy. Kiss her neck and work yourself up to kiss the spot behind her ear. Gets the girls purring like a cat."

Steven almost cracked up into a smile at the last part, but he trusted Marc, moving to kiss your neck softly and working his mouth upwards to press a kiss on the sensitive spot behind your ear, which draw a soft moan out of you. Steven smiled internally, pleased with himself knowing he did something good.

"Just like that, and now move one hand slowly down between her legs, start teasing her."

Steven complied, his hand skimmed softly over your skin while wandering down until it was just above the waistline of your panties. Steven continued to kiss you, he loved hearing your noises escape your lips. You don't know how happy it makes him. He dipped the tip of his fingers under the waistband, inching closer to your warm core.

"That's right buddy, keep going, you're doing good." Steven could hear how pleased Marc is with him.

His hand now dipped into your panties, reaching your clit and started to rub it in slow circular motion. You let out a needy moan, getting wetter with every circle he drew and arched into him.

"Oho, you're more experienced?" You asked suddenly, giggling.

Steven pulled back just enough to look at you "Maybe it's natural?" He teased you, feeling more bold now deciding to do the kiss behind your ear again which surprised you, given how good he already makes you feel at rubbing your clit.

"Steven..." You began moaning softly.

Steven rubbed your clit a tad bit faster, he felt the wetness of your juices starting to get on his fingers, which is a very good sign for him.

"Ask her if she's feeling comfy enough to take one of your fingers. One, not all of them." came Marc's voice again.

In response, Steven guided his fingers closer to your wet hole "Are you alright to take one finger?" Steven asked gently with a tiny note of concern for your well being in his voice.

Once you nodded, Steven's index finger pressed gently on your entrance before entering softly.

As you felt his finger stretching you, you let out a short gasp at the intrusion, but it was easier to handle thanks to the fact your entrance was wet, thus making it less uncomfortable.

"You alright love?" Steven asked concerned.

"Yes." You nodded reassuringly.

Steven pumped his finger slowly, making sure it gets coated in your juices.

"Alright buddy, and now add a second finger but do it slow, make sure she's wet enough, rub her clit again if you have to." Was Marc's advice.

"May I add another finger? To get you more prepared, y'know." Steven looked down at you with a soft gaze.

Once you nodded, he moved his thumb to rub your clit again to get the wetness pooling before he prepped his middle finger at your entrance, coating the tip with your juices and slowly joined his index finger, stretching your hole. Given the thickness of two of his fingers stretching you, you felt a slight uncomfortable sting but it got better when Steven started moving his fingers slowly inside of you. When Steven felt you getting more comfortable he slightly sped up his fingers and kissed you again to make it easier for you to forget the stretch.

"Grind yourself against her, use your thigh between her legs to move against her if you have to in order to get more possible friction to make her feel good while making her feel how hard your cock is against her leg." Marc's voice was focused, he genuinely wanted to make it as easy as it gets for you.

"Does it hurt love?" Steven asked, grinding himself against you like Marc said, making sure to brush his one thigh against you as much as possible.

"No, it's bearable." You replied, letting out soft moans as the wetness made you feel get a good feeling from Steven's fingers and his rubbing on your clit. At the feeling of Steven's hard erection rubbing on you, you felt yourself getting more wet if it was even possible and lifted your knee up, getting a heavier pressure on Steven's erection which made him moan at the surprise.

"Gettin' a bit eager are we, love." Steven teased, leaning in to kiss your neck again and biting down gently, causing you to tighten around his fingers. Steven felt it, and when you got comfortable again he felt how you've got used to something bigger inserted into you.

"You think she's ready for you, bud?" Steven heard Marc's voice again.

"Love, you think you're ready for me?" Steven asked you, slowing down his fingers.

"Yes, I think I am." You nodded, spreading your legs wider for him to get better access as Steven slowly pulled his fingers out of you, making sure to not hurt you.

Before Steven could get his aching cock out, he heard Marc chime in again "You okay with blood, right?"

Steven paused, looking back to his little bathroom mirror to look at Marc, giving him a curt nod.

He saw Marc nodding in response before turning his attention back to you and pulling his cock out. Obviously his dick is bigger than his fingers, so when he caught you looking, he gently reassured you "Don't worry love, I'll be slow for you, gonna be as patient as you need me too."

"Thanks, Steven." You smiled softly, knowing you're in good hands.

"She likes what she sees, otherwise she didn't stare at it like that." Marc was teasing, he could hear the literal grin in his voice and Steven knew he couldn't just talk back at him in order to not scare you.

Steven slowly pulled off your panties and positioned himself between your legs but before he could get any further he heard Marc again

"Please do me a favor and don't miss it, just point it at the wet leaking hole."

Steven wished he could whack Marc mentally sometimes. He continued moving his cock to your entrance and gently nudged it with the tip.

"Alright buddy, now enter her slowly, if she makes an uncomfortable noise stop for a second, maybe ask if she's alright and then continue."

Steven obeyed, he pushed inside slowly, inch by inch. He couldn't help but moan at the tightness of you around him, loving how it felt.

"At one point she will hiss or something and you'll feel and see blood, 'cause congratulations you broke her Hymen. It'll bleed for a while before it stops, so don't panic."

Steven's girth stretched you, more than his fingers and you felt a stingy stretch slowly creeping up, making you tense a bit and gasp.

"Get her more wet. Rub her clit again, it will make it easier." Marc chimed in again.

"It's okay love, it's okay, 'm here." Steven cooed softly, proceeding to rub your clit again.

His cock stretched you further the more he pushed in, the sting was more prominent now but it was bearable with the wetness from Steven rubbing your clit.

When Steven pushed further and more of his thickness inside you felt a sharp sting, feeling like something has ripped inside you, and a second liquidy feeling getting mixed in, feeling thicker and warmer, it caused you to tense and let out a soft yelp, your eyes were watering up a bit at the pain.

Steven immediately stopped his movements, looking down to see some blood coating his cock, "It's okay love, you know what this means, right? It can't get any worse now." He smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you and wiping away some tears that had escaped your eyes "I'm proud of you, you were so brave."

He saw you smiling back at him, then asked "Want me to wash the blood off, love?"

"No, the blood is alright, we will clean up later anyways." You smiled.

Steven nodded, starting to move again. The stingy feeling was still there, but your wetness soothed it, allowing you to relax.

"There you go buddy, you popped her cherry. Made her a real woman now." It was Marc again. Oh how badly Steven wished he could talk back to him, sometimes Marc acted like an asshole, and when he did, the little American inside his head really started to get going at it.

Soon, as Steven continued to move you felt the sting getting replaced by a more pleasurable feeling, one that made your brain go numb.

"Steven..." You moaned, arching your hips up at him.

"Starting to feel good, yeah?" Steven teased, increasing his speed "God, you feel incredible love. So good."

-

You could feel something inside building up, the faster Steven moved, the faster it approached you, "Steven, I-I think I'm close." You moaned, breathing heavily at your impending release.

"Gettin' close too, love." Steven grunted, his pace increasing even more as he was now pounding into you, loving the tight sensation of your hole around his cock.

Before you knew it, the sensation became too much and you felt yourself tightening around Steven, gushing all over his cock while your eyes rolled back into your skull. Steven lost it the moment he felt you squeezing his cock, his orgasm was inevitable and he allowed himself to shoot his sticky load into you. He held himself inside you for a couple seconds before he pulled out, letting the fluid mess between your legs drop onto the towel under you.

"That was so intense." Your chest was heaving.

Steven rolled off onto the side, facing you "It was unbelievable. You did so perfect, love." He leaned in and kissed your forehead.

Both of you laid there, calming down from the lovemaking before you broke the silence "Shouldn't we clean ourselves up?" You giggled.

Steven snapped back to reality, his mind was still clouded with the experience they shared "Yeah, right." He chuckled, standing up and extending his hand for you to pull you up before grabbing the towel, and heading to the bathroom to clean up.

-

After the cleanup, you changed into your sleeping clothes, heading straight for the bed and occupying it before wrapping yourself up in the soft covers. When Steven returned he saw you already sleeping with a soft smile on your face. He placed a soft kiss on top of your head, looking back at the mirror to confront Marc, who gave him a dirty smile in return.

"I'm already scared on what you're about to say, Marc. Judging from your smile." Steven said.

"Did it feel good?" Marc couldn't resist but ask.

"Bloody hell..." Steven sighed, it sounded like the sigh someone would make as if they'd question their own existence "You're a freakin' pig, mate."

"I am just curious." Marc defended himself "Will you introduce me to her?"

Steven cracked into a smile "Of course. I'll introduce the little American man living rent free in my head."

Marc beamed, happy with the answer "Thanks!" He replied, visible excited.

Steven looked back at your sleeping from, walking around the bed to the other side to lay down beside you. "She took all the covers."

"Happy wife, happy life. Don't you dare wake her up." Came Marc's response.

Steven almost choked, "Hap- what?!"

"It's as simple as that, buddy." Marc just grinned at Steven.

-

[xxliliana-screamsxx]

SALLY FACE HEAD CANONS 💙

(I'm bored so why not)

Disclaimer: this contains mild nsfw so if you aren't into that kind of stuff, I have some general HCs too so need to feel left out ☺️ (characters are Sal and Larry 😊)

Sal Fisher 💙

He would most definitely plan treehouse dates

(TW) If you have SH scars, he will draw little stars, cats, hearts etc. Over them💞

He tries to be the giver in the relationship, but he always ends up being the one who has his head buried in your chest

Kiss him all over his prosthetic, he loves it ❤️

If you ask if you can play with his hair, he will 100% let you

Loves it when you scratch his scalp (he has a sensitive scalp so plz run your fingers through his hair)

Back to his sensitive scalp, he wants to tell you how good it feels but he can't describe it without it sounding pervy so he just keeps quiet

Would definitely rest his head on your thighs

You have boobs? Well they're his pillows now

He is great at comforting you 💖

If you're having a panic attack or you're just worried about something, he will be there to help you through it all 😚

His scent is like lavender mixed with a dash of an old book kinda smell and cigarette smoke. Ya know? Since he's around Larry a lot he'd probably have a slight cigarette smell to him.

Larry Johnson 🤎

He's a tits guy...prove me wrong

He's definitely a giver

Smoke sesh dates 😩👌 perfection

This man doesn't give a fuck who's watching, he will gladly make out with you in front of whoever

Just like Sal, he uses your boobs as a pillow

Not so great at comforting people as much as Sal but he tries okay 😭

You know how some plugs 🔌 will gives a few girls the "pretty discount"? Larry will give you that good kush for free and not just bc you're his gf but bc boobies 🧍(can't blame him, boobs are great just not when you have to deal with them 🥲)

KISS. HIS. CHEST. 👏👏

Bro LOVES when you kiss his chest, goes absolutely feral for chest kisses bro 🫠

Loves it when you braid his hair

Will definitely show the gang after you braid his hair

His scent is like fabric softener mixed with cigarette smoke, with a hint of marijuana

NSFW HCs❤️

Sal fisher 💙

He's a switch ❤️

He's a slut for chubby girls (same)

He likes giving and making you feel good but he LOVES it when you make him feel like he's on cloud 9 😌👌

When you guys both started being intimate with each other, he was a nervous boi. Ofc you guys both started out being Virgins and it was quite obvious that neither of you had any idea how to start

Sal was very nervous his first time, so he asked for you to be on top

The boy is touch starved, so when you gave him the littlest bit of skin to skin contact, oh girl he MELTED 🫠

Ever since you guys tested the waters with what you like during sex, he has come to like being the bottom a lot but he still loves making you feel good so he'll do top service 👌

He's a whiny boy, he most definitely whimpers... don't argue with me cuz me and you both know that he would 👁️👁️

Now a question that has probably been floating in all of our minds...does the prosthetic stay on during sex??? The answer is... occasionally.

Though he will take it off sometimes but he mainly takes it off when he's doing top service cuz it's gonna be hella hard to breathe with that on.

Please PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF SATAN PRAISE HIM 😩🙏

he most DEFINITELY has a praise kink, tell him how good he is, tell him that he's being such a good boy please 😩

Now for other kinks, he doesn't seem pretty vanilla but he also doesn't seem pretty kinky either. So I think he's kinky to an extent, like he'll be kinky with you only if you're comfortable with it

I feel like his kinks are edging, bondage, mommy kink. I feel like he likes receiving edging and bondage to an extent, and the mommy kink was something that he found out he had when you guys were at it

Like imagine you riding him and you keep on edging him and all of a sudden he moans out "mommy~" and it shocked both of you 💀 you guys both stop dead in your tracks and he starts apologizing for calling you mommy and ofc you kinda liked it 👀

So from then on he has gotten a mommy kink from that experience 🫠

Larry Johnson 🤎

Like I said with him being a tits guy, he ADORES your boobs.

When I say he adores them, I mean by full on worship, it doesn't matter if they're small or big as long as they are there, he'll worship them 🙏

He definitely loves chubby girls, don't argue with me about it🧍

About the body worship thing, he will spend hours on end buried in your chest

He'll run his hands over your curves and feel every curve,dip,scars, and any marks you have 🫠(I'm melting over my own HCs damn 💀)

He is a top but a service top 🔝

He's chill with whatever you wanna try in the bedroom as long as you're okay with it

I have a feeling that he would be a bottom for you if that's something you wanna try out

Not full on bottom but the type of bottom that praises you and worships you while you use them

He's good with his fingers fsfs 😩

If you have SH scars, he will kiss your scars and make you feel like the only girl in the world ❤️

I have a feeling that when he climaxes he slurs out something that just makes the butterflies in your stomach do flips like, "God you're so beautiful" "I love you" "I wanna stay like this forever"

High sex...🧍 don't lie you thought about it too

I think that in the relationship he would care a lot about you more than himself and he'd personally come to your apartment and check up on you

His kinks would be bondage, voyeur, edging

His moans are angelic 🫠😩

Okay that's all I got for now baby bats, hope you liked it and I shall disappear for the next week aka going to school and failing all classes in the process lmao. Love you all 💜

[robo-writing]

Hii. Absolutely LOVE LOVE LOVE all your work

Could I request a one shot about cuddly logan with a soft but beefy fem reader?

Like I saw this post which basically said good luck trying to breathe if you're cuddling with logan and he's on top of you because his head weighs about 20 kgs (45lbs) based on the 1/7th of bodyweight estimate. And as someone who weight trains I was like thats not a lot?!?!?!?!? light weight no reaction, why stop at just the head lay your whole upper body over me I'll be fine. He deserves the love and comfort. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to hold him tight, let him decompress and make him feel safe.

“Twenty…Twenty-One…!”

He watches you from the door, leaning against the frame while you bring the iron bar to your chest. A repetitive motion that draws his eyes towards your sweat-lined arms, bulging with exertion as you count each rep out loud.

“Twenty-Two…Twenty-three…!”

He thought he was fit, but watching you is breathtaking. He has the benefit of a mutation, but seeing you lift damn near twice your weight with ease makes him that more impressed by you. Your hard-work is displayed effortlessly for him to see, and boy, is he watching.

“Twenty-Four…Twenty-Five…Logan?”

His attention is grabbed from the sight of your muscles to the sound of your voice, looking up to see the knowing look you cast towards him.

You carefully set your weights down, swinging your legs from the bench while you wipe the sweat from your brow. “Seeing something you like?”

“Seeing someone I like,” he grins, before his eyes point to the discarded bar. “That a new record?”

“Mhm,” you answer, still very aware of how intensely he was eye-fucking you. “Care to join me?”

“Nah, not in the mood to lift,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows when you laugh.

You push yourself forward, inviting him to your side with a crook of your finger. “I meant that you’d be better as a participant than as a spectator, if you catch my meaning.”

It takes a while for the gears to turn in his head, looking at you a bit like a lost puppy before it starts to click in his head.

“You…want to lift me?”

“I do,” you giggle. “What are you? 360?”

“390.”

“I can deadlift 410.”

He eyes you warily, while you sit there oh so inviting. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, but he can’t lie to himself and say that the idea of you carrying him isn’t making his heart skip a beat.

Decisions, decisions.

“My skeleton is made of metal sweetheart, I don’t fancy driving you to the hospital,” he sighs.

“I’ll be fine! Trust me,” you plead, walking towards him with your hands together. “Please? Pretty please?”

Logan turns his head away, knowing exactly what you’re trying to do. “No means no, don’t try to convince me, I’m not cracking.”

You huff dejectedly, and he thinks he’s won—

—until he feels your hands at his sides.

“If I can’t convince you,” you grunt. “Guess I just gotta do it myself!”

“Hey—!”

You heave once, bend your knees, and suddenly his feet no longer touch the floor. On pure instinct he freezes, grabbing you by the shoulders while your hands find their way to the back of his thighs. You stand proud, his legs wrapped around your hips, holding him close while you grin like the cat who ate the cream.

“What the fuck,” he whispers, shock on his face. You jostle him around a bit, making sure your grip is secure before taking a few steps.

“See? Perfectly safe,” you muse, leaning up to give him a quick peck on the chin. “Told you to trust me.”

He’s reeling from a lot of emotions—fear, nerves, even anxiety—but underneath all that is this giddy little feeling that sits in his chest at the idea of being carried around, especially with such ease. He can’t remember the last time that happened—can’t remember the last time someone wanted to.

“I see that smile on your face,” you say, kissing at his face while he’s distracted. “You like being carried, don’tcha?”

True to your word, there’s a smile spreading across his lips, one he tries (and fails) to hide. “Just happy you didn’t break your back is all.”

There’s a lot of benefits to being your boyfriend, but this is the one thing he’ll never get used to.

[sizzlingchaosprince]

The Toy's favorite Child

Notes: This is the first time I'm doing such thing so I'm really nervous XD I didn't know what to put into the background of the drawing so I didn't put any. Maybe I'll edit it soon. Do forgive me for my shading, I'm still learning(trying to)

Synopsis: After starting to live in PlayCare, one creature you became friends with grew a liking to you...

Warning: PLATONIC, headcanon + little story, reader is 12-14 years old, reader is a chill teenager

It's been a year since you got into the PlayCare, passing through the security with laid-back face and leaving the staff confused. They kept you because you seemed useful for them...

You were quite chilly and relaxed, reserved and smart. Also, because of your personality you were almost the same with Cat Nap from cartoons. Maybe that's why you became quick friends with Smiling Critters. With most of them, at least...

The big purple cat was almost never appearing like others from his party. And this interested you.

After a week or so you finally met him face-to-face. You were as calm as always, but your heart was pounding from excitement. You said 'hi' for politeness and introduced yourself, waiting for him to do the same.

Guess what? His face didn't even shift. He continued staring at you with his dead eyes.

After understanding that you won't get an answer from him, you tried to talk about something else.

But he disappeared in blink of an eye.

You were quite disappointed, but you still had the same urge to get to know the living toy better. You knew it'll be a long while...

It was worth 3 months to make him sit and listen to your rambling for 10 minutes. It was worth more months to make him spend at least an hour with you. It took even longer for him to let you stay near him and sleep, leaning onto the puppet. But it was worth the pleasure you get from his warmth and company.

Even though you never heard him talk, it's enough for you to be near him. It's good to talk about any nonsense which randomly comes to your mind and have a listener who won't judge you. It's also good to take a great nap in his fur or stay in complete silence, thinking of your own thing.

The staff, of course, sooner found out the relationship between you and the purple cat puppet.

They tried to use you to their own benefits and new information, but instead you composed some lies which sounded like truth to tell them(Cat Nap helped you a little sometimes, nodding or shaking his head if the lie sounds truthful or not).

When the scientists were starting thinking about taking you for the test next, Cat Nap started to monitor you to make sure you won't end up in the Game Station.

It definitely wasn't him who knocked out the staff members right behind your back. It definitely wasn't him who let out some scratching noises in Home-Sweet-Home. Also, of course, it definitely wasn't his sharp gaze you felt on your gut 24/7.

You liked to use the hair brush on the purple furball. It doesn't move away so you can say that he's at least neutral to your activity(we don't talk about his really quiet purring).

[Now. The small story]

It was a normal day like any other one. More specifically, night. However, this week was quiet strange: the staff members of Playtime Co. except the workers from the PlayCare appeared more often in front of you. When they started talking about 'test', they randomly passed out because of the red smoke. You knew it was one of the Smiling Critters you were hanging out with for a while, but you didn't know why was he doing it.

You were currently sitting with your back leaning against the living cat plush, brushing your companion's tail you gently patted with your free second hand. The only thing that bothered you in that peaceful time was the fact that the purple cat wasn't purring at all. It was staring at you with its dark eyes. Sooner after, you finally asked him about this:

— Is something wrong, Cat Nap?

It didn't answer. Instead, the living toy just stared at you with expressionless eyes, not moving an inch. You weren't intimidated by the stare at all, so you just continued brushing the long tail. You weren't hoping for an answer anyway, but still a small, almost impossible dream was remaining in your heart.

The silence was broken by the raspy, low voice coming out from Cat Nap's voice box.

— The Prototype... Will Save Us.

You flinched.

Wow...

This is the first time he ever said something to you. It was surely a progress for your friendship.

You stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before shifting your attention back to the tail. You shrugged with your shoulders, your face had a relaxed smile.

— I don't know who the Prototype is, but if they helped you somehow, I think they're my saviour too. You're like a home to me.. I can't even imagine what would it be like living without you here!

You chuckled, patting the fluffy tail while Cat Nap looked at you with the same stare. However, something in his eyes changed... Maybe his gaze gained a little more... softness?

He stared at you until you fell asleep on him again. A few minutes of him sinking into his thoughts have passed, the toy putted his head on his paws, wrapping his tail around you like a blanket and soon enough closing his eyes. You would call it the same night-time scenario with Cat Nap in the next morning, because you didn't know that he was comfortably purring, nuzzling himself into your warmth last night...

Notes: OH MY GOD I DID IT :D I'll maybe do part 2, but without promises

Anyways, thank you for wasting your time reading my first-ever-made English fanfic. Do write me some comments about my errors if you find any, I will appreciate it since it'll improve my writing skills.

Have a nice day/evening/night!😘

[obsessive-valentine]

The First Steps, Guided by Gentle Hands (PT 3)

Platonic Vampire Family + Fem!Reader - (Beaumont family saga)

Progress and Setbacks- You find yourself settling in and even enjoying some bits, including Dorian being a great big brother and the warmth of a mother. Though it isn't linear progress and you stumble during some parts. But don't worry, that's what parents are for -to steady you and help in their own ways. Part 3 to 5 Stages of Grief

The following months passed slowly, they weren't particularly unkind. You'd expected worse, to be honest, you settled quicker than you'd like to admit.

Lavinia is usually at your side or close by. The two of you became almost inseparable, Lavinia treating you with a motherly tenderness you hadn’t expected. But never fragile or demeaning, in fact, she encouraged questions and exploration -she was just there for your stability, not to shelter you or keep you captive.

Soren lets you grow comfortable, giving you space to settle and get used to a new routine. He'd make small talk when you're in the same room, but it never felt forced or pressuring. It was casual and kind, warm even.

Lucian is distant to but not the same kind-distant as Soren who's giving you space but is still there for you, this is a brooding-distant. If you caught his eye, he’d glance away with a scowl, or, on the rare occasion he lingered, his expression was unreadable—something guarded beneath the surface, like he didn’t know whether to see you as a stranger, an annoyance, or something else entirely. But he rarely made any verbal jabs, he knew better, where you are Lavinia or Soren are close by.

Dorian made up for his brother in spades though.

Dorian loves having a little sister, but more so a person who's fun and matches his energy. Don't get him wrong, it's not torture living with them, but they are a very formal and work-led family. Lavinia, ever soft for her sons, often played along with her dry wit, entertaining her wild child's antics. But those were just fleeting moments, and the other two are useless when understanding good comedy. This, however, is so much more fun, so much more human- games, laughing and getting in trouble.

-

There were games of cards sprawled out on the sitting room floor, stories told by firelight that had you snorting with laughter at Dorian’s theatrical gestures, and hours spent bent over your sketchbook beside you as he tried (and failed) to master the art of drawing. Your drawing book is now a patchwork of your steady drawings and Dorian's questionable scribbles.

“This is offensive,” he grumbled one afternoon, pointing to his attempt at a cat. It looked more like a misshapen potato with whiskers. “to cats everywhere. I should be ashamed.”

“You should,” you teased, stifling a giggle. “Poor Sir Whiskers. He deserves better.”

“Art critic and sibling tormentor?” He shook his head dramatically. “What have I created ?”

Your smile lingered even after the moment passed. It was a strange thought, but you were starting to feel a quiet sense of belonging here—especially around Dorian. He treated you as though you’d always been part of his life, his easygoing nature smoothing the sharp edges of your fears.

-

Lavinia often encouraged this unconventional form of bonding too. Once walking into the kitchen where you and Dorian were for one reason or another.

Except when she rounds the corner, she sees you both balancing spoons on your noses. She holds back a laugh at the absurdity that Dorian somehow convinced you into.

"Teaching her to balance a spoon on her nose? I'm sure Soren would approve." she raises an eyebrow.

Dorian doesn't remove the spoon to look at her, to focused. "It's a skill, mother. A very serious one, it's harder than it looks." he explains with a grin.

You pipe up though laughs -after dropping your spoon again, determined to get it right you pick it up-. "He says it's a significant motor skill. Apparently, it’s vital for survival."

Lavinia smiles, seeing you so relaxed and happy "Practical, then. Carry on."

The First Steps

But while life in this new family was slowly becoming no so strange, there were unkind 'events'. Often first steps are accompanied by stumbles-

The following months of adjustment weren’t linear. You struggled with the change—an identity crisis that seemed to gnaw at you in the quiet moments—and even the culture shock of living with the Beaumonts. Just as you felt like you were coming to terms with your situation, something new would pull the rug out from under you.

Drinking blood was the worst of it. Just when you thought you could settle, you had to face something that felt so foreign, so damning, that it brought back every fear and doubt. It was gross, wrong, and an impossible idea.

Having been raised in a traditional Victorian household, you likely held some sort of religious or superstitious beliefs too. That only made this so much harder to justify.

-

The first time Soren brought you the cup, you stared at it as though it might bite you. Lavinia sat beside you at the small table in a quiet room. Dorian sat lazily on a soft armchair not far, under the guise of reading a book, but his gaze was fixed on your face, trying to read your reactions. Your stomach churned, the smell of iron lingering faintly in the air.

“Better to start now,” Soren said, his tone firm but not unkind. He set the cup gently on the table in front of you, his hands steady. “It’s easier to manage this way before hunger makes it… harder.”

He straightens up, and his face softens at the sight of an unpleasant struggle they all had faced "Take your time, but you will drink some before you go to bed." He turns to leave, letting Lavinia handle this with her gentle nature.

But he pauses "This doesn’t define you unless you let it." A tense attempt at comfort. You wish it worked.

You sat in silence for a while after Soren left. Dorian broke the silence unable to sit in such a tense atmosphere.

“It’s stranger to think about it than to do it.” as though this were a completely ordinary conversation. “Once you start, it's just routine... instinct.”

“Dorian,” Lavinia murmured, though there was no real scolding in her tone.

“What?” He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s true.” But his face falls again when his attempt at lighting the mood fails, seeing you only tense up.

You wanted to glare at him, as your eyes began to burn and threaten tears, wanting to snap, but not able to take your eyes off the cup. How can you talk about this like it’s nothing? But your anger fell short. He’d been through this too. They all had. And now it was your turn. There was no getting around it, no more delaying.

Lavinia leaned in, drawing your attention back to her. “I know this feels impossible,” she said softly. “But it won’t ruin you. I promise you that.” The back of her gloved fingers gently brush over your cheek before stopping at your chin and holding it carefully between her index and thumb, forcing you to hold her gaze.

You blinked at her, tears burning the corners of your eyes. “How do you know?” Lavinia sighed at the sight of tears welling up, letting go of your chin to rub circles on your back.

“Because I’ve been where you are,” she said simply. “And I am still myself.”

Something about the certainty in her voice made your resolve falter. Lavinia—so calm, so strong—didn’t look wicked. She didn’t look lost. Maybe… maybe you wouldn’t either.

When you didn’t move, Lavinia stood, reaching for the cup and placing it carefully in your shaking hands. “Just one sip,” she said, her tone firm but kind. “That’s all I’m asking.”

You took as small of a sip as you could- And it was as awful as you were expecting, so foreign. The morality, the taste, the texture and the smell. But worst of all you hated that you weren't so hungry now, forced to confront that this is your way of life from now on.

Lavinia stood, smoothing her skirts before leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “That’s enough for tonight,” she murmured gently, her tone soft but brooking no argument. “Let’s get you ready for bed, sweet girl.” She placed a hand gently on your lower back, guiding your quiet, troubled self out of the room.

Your steps were slow, heavy with lingering unease, but before stepping into the hallway, you glanced back. Dorian sat where he’d been the entire time, unusually still—quieter than you’d ever seen him, almost forgetting he was there. His usual spark seemed dimmed as he watched you leave, his expression subdued.

He caught your gaze and offered a small, sad smile—an attempt at encouragement that didn’t quite land. It wasn’t pity, exactly, just the ache of watching someone he cared for fight battles he couldn’t help them win.

... Guided by Gentle Hands

You began getting glimpses of what life would look like when you finally settled in.

Soren took it upon himself to become a teacher, starting with history, though at first, it was subtle—nothing heavy, nothing overwhelming. He’d beckon you into his study, voice low but firm, and give you small tasks: 'read this chapter' 'tell me what you think about this passage' or 'write down your thoughts on that event'.

Soren understood better than anyone that boredom had a way of catastrophizing unpleasant thoughts, of spiralling them into something unbearable. It was practical, of course—he had always intended to educate you as thoroughly as he had Lucien and Dorian, and even Lavinia, though her education had been more self-initiated.

But at the heart of it, this was his way of looking out for you, by keeping your mind sharp and your heart steady so you wouldn’t lose yourself.

-

It was during your third week that he decided to begin. Your disorientation had started to wane, the constant aches dulling to an occasional discomfort, and you found yourself more active, less confined to bed and wandering the manor instead. You’d begun helping Lavinia with small tasks, rearranging shelves or folding linens, as though eager to distract yourself.

One particular night, when you were more restless than usual, Soren watched you quietly from the corner of his eye. The way you fidgeted and paced was all the indication he needed. After a few minutes, he stood, plucked a book off the shelf with deliberate ease, and turned toward you.

“Come with me to my study, child.” His tone left no room for argument, though there was no harshness to it—only purpose.

You followed him with confusion and trepidation, unsure of what to expect. The vastness of his study made you feel small at first—the towering bookshelves, the rich scent of old leather and parchment. But when you sat across from him, and he opened the book, it wasn’t as daunting as you thought.

The conversation began with history, his deep voice weaving stories of wars and treaties, discoveries and downfalls. -And it wasn’t long before the discussions turned, becoming less of a lecture and more of an interview.

“The tales say that vampires turn to ash in the sun,” you hesitantly said one evening, curiosity finally breaking through. “But Lavinia used to visit me during the day... that doesn't make sense.”

Soren gave a rare, almost amused look, his lips quirking faintly. “Those stories are highly inaccurate. We don’t turn to ash in the sun. It’s only irritating—burns, at the worst, if we’re careless.”

Another night, you leaned forward in your seat, bringing up another thought you had wondered about for a few days “You’re always so busy. Do Vampires have jobs?”

He inclined his head, choosing his words carefully. “The Beaumont name is very respected. That respect comes with responsibilities. It drags us into the political side of what you might call… the Vampire Court.”

“Vampire Court?” You echoed, both fascinated and wary of the term.

“Yes,” he replied, leaning back as though considering how much to say. “Though I’m afraid the details would bore you to sleep. Now, let’s return to the matter at hand.”

There was no mistaking the faint, teasing glint in his eyes as he steered you back to the lesson.

Soren didn’t seem to mind the curiosity. So one night, you dared to ask about his maker, your voice hesitant.

“Is your maker still alive?”

Soren paused, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “Yes, he is. A very smart and serious man, though…” He glanced at you, allowing a dry, almost imperceptible humour to slip through. “Let’s just say it’s best to delay that meeting for a while. He lacks certain… refinements.”

It made you blink in surprise before you stifled a small laugh, and Soren let the moment rest there, as if it had never happened.

One night, you’d muttered about how cold you always felt, after he had asked you how the discomforts are fading. Soren had said nothing at the time, merely watching with that inscrutable expression he always wore.

From that evening on, when you woke at sunset, your fireplace was already lit, your room warm -meaning it had been for a while. You assumed Lavinia had been the one to light it, never questioning the habit.

It took weeks before you pieced it together that it wasn't the ever-attentive Lavinia lighting it for you -but Soren, who took on the task personally and routinely before Lavinia could even get to it.

...

Lavinia had always been the one to openly express her love for you. At first, she was careful—never smothering or overstepping boundaries you weren’t ready to cross. Her affection came out in sweet words and soft nicknames, in the way she always seemed close by, never far enough to leave you feeling alone. Acts of service were her strongest language of love: brushing and braiding your hair, tidying your room up and helping you do up ribbons, laces or clasps.

Slowly, as time passed, Lavinia allowed herself to do more, indulging you in the ways she had always wished to but held back. A daughter to spoil in ways her boys were either too old for or too boyish for.

Lavish clothes, jewellery handed down from her own collection, teaching you things that feel more like an excuse to bond than a lesson Soren would set up.

And then there was the bear-

Lavinia had felt, more than seen, that something was missing from your room. It was lovely, of course—she had ensured it was as comfortable and homely as a room could be, with soft wallpaper in delicate florals, plush sheets, downy pillows, and charming decorations. But as she saw more of your personality shining through—your curiosity, your humour, the flashes of humanity you were holding onto with everything you had—she knew the space didn’t yet reflect you.

It was beautiful, yes, but far too serious. Refined. Grown-up in a way that seemed wrong for someone so young (Physically and/or vampire age). She knew it would grow to be yours and be filled with personality and trinkets, that you would grow to love it as you did your old home.

But she felt you need that comfort and self-expression now more than ever, and so she resolved to change that, one gift at a time, that would increasingly become more and more tailored to your likes and comforts as they learned more about you.

The first one was a bear, a necessary comfort item for many humans. Not just any bear though, only the best. She sat at her desk one morning, as the sun rose and you slept. Writing a letter to an artisan in Russia who she'd met during one of their many travels abroad, she knew he was the person to create what she envisioned.

She spared no detail, describing what she wanted: a luxurious, sturdy bear, hand-stitched from the finest materials, with features cute enough to be loved for an eternity and stitching strong enough to endure just as long.

And when it arrived, carefully packaged, topped with a bow.

She lifts the bear out of the box—a beautiful, exquisitely made stuffed bear, with jointed limbs and cute face. Its fur is soft and plush. It’s stitched with fine care, its paws and ears trimmed with delicate embroidery. The bear’s eyes shine black like little onyx stones, and it wears a velvet ribbon around its neck with a small, silver charm hanging from it—a subtle mark of luxury and craftsmanship.

That evening, when you found it sitting carefully on your bed, your steps slowed as you entered the room. You stared at the bear for a long moment, your fingers brushing hesitantly over its fur before picking it up. It was heavier than you expected, sturdy and real—yours.

Lavinia’s voice broke the quiet, soft from where she stood in the doorway, coming in to put some of your clothes away. “A companion. He came all the way from Russia to keep you company.”

You looked up at her, eyes wide with wonder and confusion at such an extravagant gift. Lavinia didn’t linger on your hesitation, though, her tone light but full of warmth. “It is a very special gift, crafted by hand in Russia by a master artisan. One of a kind. But,” she added, with the faintest smile, “very sturdy. Created to be loved. So take care of him.”

She left it at that, continuing through your draws, finishing her task of putting clothes away as if the expensive gesture was nothing. Lavinia made no fuss about it, didn’t press you to show gratitude or admiration, not because the money was no biggie or it was simple compared to some of her precious items in her room -but because she knew she’d see her efforts rewarded in time.

And she did.

The bear never ended up on a shelf, where so many precious things might go to gather dust. No, it stayed right there—on your bed, within arm’s reach. It was too precious to put away, too yours to display as though it were just a decoration. This was the first thing in your new life that belonged to you and you alone, a token of care and thoughtfulness meant for no one else. Not out of necessity or practicality like clothes, but simply because Lavinia wanted you to have something special.

The bear became a constant presence—sometimes tucked under your arm as you slept, other times sitting proudly on your pillow when you woke. And it wasn’t long before you gave him a name, a fitting one that matched his origins, like Misha. Misha would be treasured by you for lifetimes to come.

-

-

-

Maybe this isn't so bad, maybe you can learn to accept this new -unconventional- family.

Lavinia and Dorian's consistent and open adoration, Soren's subtle but firm love and even Lucien's own form of caring that begins to show in small acts (but thats for another day).

[llamagoddessofficial]

I'm on my knees for any more crumbs with prison AU therapist Mc and Sans 🙏 the more equal(?) dynamic is just so good And to the anon that brought it up—I love you

I'll do you one better. Here's some crumbs for ALL of them

Since she's not a nurse, this Mc doesn't have a very strong stomach. Stories of Skull's crimes sometimes make her physically ill.

Generally, Sans and Mc's 'sessions' can be quite pleasant. They talk about current events, how things are going. It's only once she starts trying to explore his feelings that he starts toying with her.

... Red teases her a lot. She tries not to react to it, it's unprofessional, but he can always tell when he's flustering her. He gets this infuriating smug grin.

Since Red is a high risk prisoner, he has to have one hand cuffed to a table during therapy. He often complains that he wishes he could be cuffed alone in a room with her in different circumstances. What Mc doesn't realise is that, considering his strength, the cuffs are basically for decoration- Red just pretends he can't break out of them so she feels more comfortable alone in a room with a massive skeleton monster who openly displays interest in her.

Sans doesn't require cuffs in his sessions. And the only time he was cuffed, he snapped them 'accidentally' to make a point. It just makes it all the more nervewracking for Mc.

Skull doesn't know she's his therapist. He thinks she just really cares about him. That's why she keeps coming back to see him, right?

Red isn't the only flirt. Sans is a lot more forward in this AU, considering she knows the truth about his nature. Granted, Sans being 'clear' about something is still incredibly cryptic, but he enjoys the shock in her eyes whenever he calmly flirts with her.

Red's flirting is warm, sincere, and never crosses the line... it leaves her flushed and (though she'd never admit it) flattered. Sans' flirting is nervewracking. It makes her feel like she's a mouse, and Sans is a cat playfully batting at her, capable of clawing her to death at any moment.

Skull gains bits and pieces of speech back a lot faster with her. Unfortunately, that means he's learning how to terrify the guards. It used to be that Skull would just scream or snarl, but now he likes to say broken ominous sentences to guards he doesn't like to see them shit their pants.

He's also figured out that, when he's really upset and angry, if he screams her name enough someone will send her. It's not a great lesson to learn... but it's better than him deciding to attack people.

Whenever Mc tries to get Skull to do therapeutic art with her, he just draws the same thing over and over. The art is scribbly thanks to his tremor, but it always looks like three people; a tall skeleton, a shorter skeleton, and a human. He draws them in various positions- standing together, sitting around a table, sitting on a couch. She suspects one skeleton is him and the human could be her, but she doesn't know who the tall skeleton is.

(It's him, her, and Papyrus. His family)

Sans, for all his power and control, gets ratty and jealous when she treats other people. The first time he hears her laugh is when she realises that was why he's being moody.

She'd never seen him so delighted before.

Sans likes when she dodges his conversational traps. He'll try to lure her into talking about herself, revealing information to him, but she won't fall for it and always turns it back on him. There's not much he's been able to glean from her. It's always so fun, to play with someone who knows what they're doing.

Again, she'll never admit it. But Mc is fascinated by Sans. Most serial killers are delusional and kinda pathetic, but Sans is as if all the stereotypes of the 'genius mastermind serial killer' were true. She gets to be up close and personal, see how he works; she gets to watch his mask rise and fall in real time.

Of course, he knows she's fascinated. He uses it to keep her coming back. He's fascinated with her, too~

[otomehoneyybearr]

3rd Birthday Story Sale

Kagari Amagase: A Heart-Throbbing Moment (Gift) For You

Taglist: @candied-boys

On the morning of my birthday—

The first thing I saw upon waking wasn't Kagari's sleeping face or his green eyes, but a single cherry blossom and a letter.

.....

Kagari: "You arrived early, Princess. Were you that eager to see me?"

Emma: "Of course, I wanted to see you as soon as possible, but..."

Kagari: "Why are you looking at me like I'm some bizarre creature?"

Emma: "Because you're tied up, Kagari."

(And cutely tied up with a ribbon, at that.)

The location mentioned in the letter was Kagari’s secret hideout, known only to a select few.

There I found, for some reason, Kagari with his wrists bound together, filling my mind with all sorts of questions.

Kagari: "Gifts come with ribbons, don't they?"

Emma: "So, does that mean...?"

Kagari: "Rejoice. Your first birthday present is me."

(I’d imagined doing something like this with Kagari, but I never thought it would actually happen!)

I was so surprised that I was speechless.

But my gradually warming cheeks were proof of how genuinely happy I was.

(If he's the present, that means I get to spend the whole day with him.)

The thought of having the person I love by my side on my birthday—Well, there’s no way I wouldn’t be overjoyed.

Emma: "Thank you. I'm really, truly happy!"

Kagari: "Then untie the ribbon quickly. Otherwise, this gift might run away, it has legs, you know."

Emma: "I'll untie it right away, so please don't run away."

I hurriedly grabbed the end of the ribbon and pulled, and it easily came undone.

As soon as he was freed, he hugged me tightly, burying his face in my neck.

(This is the first time I've received such a cuddly gift.)

It was ticklish and endearing, so I hugged him back.

Kagari: "Princess, are you satisfied already? There are more presents. In fact, the next one is the main gift."

(Can there even be a present better than Kagari in this world?)

Kagari: "Take this."

(A notebook...?)

It was a small, palm-sized rectangular notebook with a picture of a sleeping cat on the cover.

(It’s a drawing made by Kagari. Haha, how cute.)

(If this is the main present, maybe there's something written inside.)

With growing anticipation, I opened the cover. Inside was...

Emma: "A coupon to eat dorayaki together?"

Kagari: "If you give me any of those coupons, I'll grant the wish written on it."

Emma: "What a tempting present. Are you sure I can really have this?"

Kagari: "I made it for you. If you don't take it, it'll just turn to ashes."

Emma: "Thank you, I'll take it!"

I carefully turned each page to see what other coupons were there.

A date while holding hands coupon, a dressing-up coupon, a birthday cake coupon, a birthday song coupon, a kiss coupon, a hug coupon...

Seeing the cuteness of the contents written in Kagari’s slightly scrawled handwriting made me smile.

(A hug while kissing, kissing on his lap, a hug from the front, a hug from the back, a hug from the side... So many variations.)

(It's so like him to have so many kiss and hug coupons. His desires are quite clear.)

I tried giving Kagari a kiss coupon.

Emma: "Mm..."

Kagari: "You really like kisses, don’t you, Princess? So do I."

His kiss was swift and took my breath away, making my cheeks hot as he slightly lifted the corner of his mouth.

(Giving him a coupon is basically saying, "I want this"...)

(This might be a present that tests my heart as well.)

Still, it didn't change how happy I was.

(Which coupon should I use next... Oh, this one looks good.)

Kagari: "The dressing-up coupon, huh."

Emma: "I thought it would be best to use this one first. I can't imagine what it entails, so I'm looking forward to it."

(Will it be a birthday sash, a hat shaped like a cake, or maybe glasses?)

As I eagerly anticipated, Kagari suddenly wrapped his arms around my back, hugging me.

Emma: "Waaah! Why am I being undressed!?"

Kagari: "Because I'm going to dress you up."

Without any room for argument, he quickly stripped off my clothes, leaving me in my underwear.

Embarrassed, I moved behind Kagari to escape his gaze.

Emma: "I can put on clothes by myself, you know?"

Kagari: "If you refuse, you'll spend your birthday in your underwear. Not that I'd mind."

Kagari: "Besides, I’m better at dressing you than you are."

Emma: "Dressing me… Oh."

Kagari took something wrapped in a cloth from the closet and placed it on the floor

When he untied it, an elegant kimono in a soft gray plum color appeared.

(Wow… It’s beautiful.)

The various flower patterns primarily in shades of red were both vibrant and softly understated, exuding a subtle sweetness.

Kagari: "A birthday comes only once a year. I wanted your outfit to feel special too."

Kagari: "You always cherish things tied to memories, after all."

(Kagari thought this through so much.)

Emma: "...It’s so beautiful, it makes me hesitate to wear it. It captivated me instantly.”

Kagari: "I'm well aware of your tastes, so this reaction was expected."

Kagari: "But seeing you actually happy makes me even more pleased than I anticipated."

Though his expression was hard to read, the air around him seemed a bit gentler.

Suppressing my embarrassment, I moved into Kagari's line of sight.

Emma: "Could you please help me dress?"

Kagari: "Of course, I'll make you look adorable. Just wait and see."

True to his word, Kagari tied the obi in a rose knot and braided my hair to match.

I couldn't stop looking in the mirror, so delighted by how cute he made me look.

(Even though I’m already overwhelmed with joy, I still have many coupons left...)

Emma: “Eek!”

Kagari gave a playful bite to my neck and looked at me with a slightly sulky expression.

Kagari: "Hurry up and give me the next coupon. Let me celebrate you more."

Emma: "Sorry, I was just so happy with how you dressed me."

Emma: "Then, next... I'll use this coupon!"

Kagari: "A birthday cake coupon and a birthday song coupon. Wait here."

Emma: "Okay."

(Since it's Kagari, it might be a gigantic dorayaki or a stack of them reaching the ceiling.)

However, when Kagari returned to the room, what he was holding was undeniably a birthday cake.

Emma: "A rose cake! I love it."

It's the classic birthday cake in Rhodolite, topped with fruit and rose-shaped sugar decorations. The difference was the little cherry blossom sugar decoration placed next to the rose.

Setting the birthday cake down on the table, Kagari and I sat on the floor facing each other.

Emma: "The rose and cherry blossom are so cute together. Well, let’s dig in..."

Kagari: "Wait, little glutton. We haven't sung the song yet."

Emma: "Oh, right. It looked so delicious that I almost forgot..."

I quickly pulled my hand back from reaching for the cake and placed it on my lap.

After subtly clearing his throat, Kagari began to sing the birthday song I knew so well from childhood.

He slightly nodded his head to the rhythm, and I clapped my hands in time with him.

(His pitch is off, but he probably practiced a lot for today.)

This was evident from the song and his serious expression, and it was so endearing that I couldn't help but smile.

Kagari: "Happy birthday, Princess. Now, open your mouth."

Emma: "Aah... mmm, it's delicious. And it tastes nostalgic."

Kagari: "What a lovely smile. You're so cute I want to shower you with affection right now."

Kagari: "Ready for the second bite?"

Emma: "Yes, I am."

I took a larger bite of the cake than before, and the sweetness of the rose and cream spread throughout my mouth, soothing me.

After that, I kept eating each piece he offered, and fed him in return, and the cake quickly disappeared.

(Ah, that was delicious...)

Kagari: "..."

(Kagari's gaze hasn't left me for a while now. Is he waiting for the next coupon or something...?)

(Now that I think about it, he usually takes every opportunity to kiss or lean on my shoulder, but today he hasn't.)

I suddenly noticed the coupons placed beside me.

(Oh, that's why...)

Kagari: “….!”

I picked up the "Kissing on His Lap" coupon and handed it to him.

Kagari approached me happily, like a cat with its tail raised, and lifted me onto his lap.

A soft kiss landed on my lips, and he narrowed his eyes at a distance close enough to feel each other’s breath.

Then, he nuzzled my neck playfully with his nose, making me unconsciously let out a soft sigh.

(Seeing Kagari so happy makes me want to use these coupons more often, even though I'll be sad when they run out.)

After that, I used the coupons as I pleased.

We held hands and went out to the town, he fed me dorayaki, we stole kisses away from prying eyes, and spent an incredibly sweet time together that could only be described as over-the-top romantic...

Before I knew it, the sky had turned a deep blue.

(There was a mysterious special coupon that turned out to be for viewing the night cherry blossoms.)

Sitting side by side on our usual spot on the tree branch, Kagari and I gazed at the enchanting, almost otherworldly cherry blossoms, which looked different from how they did during the day.

(Ah...)

As I instinctively reached out to catch a falling petal, Kagari's hand extended from the side and caught it first.

Kagari: "You really like this game, don't you?"

Emma: "I just can't help it."

I carefully took the offered petal and pressed it between my handkerchief.

Emma: "This is the first time I've received so many presents on my birthday."

Kagari: "Hearing that makes me happy too. I want to be your first in everything."

Kagari: "But look forward to next year's birthday as well. I promise to prepare an even grander celebration than this year."

Emma: "What..."

Kagari: "What's with that reaction? Ah, I see. This year alone was enough for you."

Emma: "That's not true! I'm looking forward to next year too."

Kagari: "That's right, be greedy, Princess."

Kagari: "Next time, I'll make the birthday cake all by myself... I swear it."

(Does that mean he had intended to make it by himself this this time?)

(…Next year, huh.)

(Before we became lovers, he’d never say anything like ‘See you next time’, no matter how many times we met.)

(But things are different now. He’s promised a future.)

(…It feels like I've received another present.)

I put the handkerchief in my pocket and took out the remaining coupons.

There were only a few left, most of them being kiss and hug coupons.

(It’s okay to be a bit greedier, right...?)

Emma: "Kagari, could you fulfill all the remaining tickets?"

Kagari: "I'll grant any wish of yours."

Kagari: "Besides, I haven't had enough of you yet."

Our lips met, and we passionately conveyed our happiness to each other with intertwined tongues. With every kiss, his emerald eyes gleamed with a fierce heat, and just being stared at made my core tingle with a sweet ache.

Kagari: “Did I get a perfect score for celebrating your birthday?”

Emma: “Yes. It was worth 100 perfect scores.”

Emma: “Thank you for such a wonderful birthday, Kagari.”

Kagari: “Then let me say this too.”

Kagari: “Thank you for letting me have you all to myself on your birthday.”

(At first, I thought he was happy just because I used the coupons...)

(But perhaps even more than that, he was happy to be wanted and given attention.)

Thinking that only made my love for him grow…

(For me, Kagari’s happiness is the greatest gift of all.)

This time, I initiated the kiss, and we spent a blissful time together until the date changed.

▼・ᴥ・▼

[catapparently]

Kaz Brekker Headcanons

Cat entering her hc era thanks to my maid of honor @x-liv25 . Please go read her TIG headcanons!

MASTERLIST

Kaz once said "you shouldn't make friends with crows," "why not?" "they don't have any manners." I headcanon that he tried to feed a crow and actually be nice to it but it bit him so now he forever holds the grudge

He has a stack of makeup in his desk drawer in case he needs to change his face up a bit for a job and he's excellent at it

At some point, when he was still struggling with finding a job after Jordie's death, he stole someone's purse and found bronzer/contour that he used to draw himself abs to look strong and "hirable".

He doesn't mind touching animals without his gloves

He realized that when he tried to save an abandoned kitten in the rain when he was younger

He felt bad for it because it reminded him of him and Jordie

He saw it as a debt-ish to Jordie to save the kitten

It once brought Kaz a mouse as a gift and Kaz genuinely appreciated the gesture

Kaz POV: "What a distinguished gentleman who knows I'm worthy of great gifts and appreciation"

Kaz knew he couldn't really keep a cat in his line of work, it'd be a weakness, so when it was old enough, he snuck it into Pekka's office and watched the vicious little feline tear Pekka's stuff to shreds

"A cat after my own heart"

When Kaz got the Dregs tattoo, he didn't want the artist to touch him, so he tattooed the logo himself. It was a bit shaky but then he hired a Tailor to fix the edges without touching him

Alternative solution to the bad edges: He fixes them up with stolen foundation whenever he isn't wearing long sleeves or something that would cover it up.

They day he first saw Inej and she snuck up on him, he had a panic attack but hid it well

At this point in his life, he was used to being in control, to knowing everything. Having Inej sneak up on him (and knowing that she could have potentially killed him without him having time to retaliate had she been trained) freaked him out. He felt weak, Kaz Rietveld again.

Kaz spends half an hour every other day locked in his office without his gloves, lathering his hands in hand cream.

Whenever he'd grab someone by the collar or any form of violence with contact, the last thing the victim could think about is why his hands smell nice. Nobody ever lived to tell the tale.

He's a sucker for a good chocolate cake.

He absolutely HATES ice cream. It makes too much of a sticky gooey mess for him.

He also probably has a sensitive throat so he doesn't really eat cold/frozen stuff or drinks

Once he made a deal with Nina which resulted in him going to a café to buy her a pumpkin spice latte. Once he sniffed Nina's, he quickly bought another one for himself and chugged it before he could get back. Obviously he did that in a dark alleyway so that nobody could see him and use it as blackmail.

Once he used (obviously stolen) paint to decorate his very own set of cards.

He then made another elaborate plan of his and managed to auction them off for a grotesque amount of kruge.

Probably forged DeKappel's signature on the back of each with perfect precision

For those that forgot, DeKappel is some famous painter in the series. Kaz stole a DeKappel oil painting from Van Eck.

Help I didn't realize how fun HCs were, I could make a thousand of these