#Hawaiian Wall Art

[perssonofsweden]

Aloha Poster, Hawaiian Wall Art, Aloha Beach, Typography as Art, Aloha Prints, Retro Poster, Text Art, Printable Posters, Beach House Poster, #MinimalismPoster #DigitalPrints #MinimalistWallArt #DigitalPrint #HomeDecor #OwnItOncePrintIt4Ever, #DownloadPrintFrame, https://perssonofsweden.etsy.com/listing/1739758352

[internationalemeteorologie]

Sean Yoro aka Hula

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I needed guidance, so I went to my friend’s house. He was a Hawaiian elder, a chief or something, so I knew he’d be able to help me with my problems.

While I was there telling him what was bothering me, this little gray puppy ran up and hopped in my lap, started licking me all over. He told me the dog just showed up one day, so he’d been feeding it, but he can’t touch it since he’s allergic to dogs. It was so cute, this little gray thing with dark gray eyebrows and a dark gray moustache.

The elder had to get up to get his allergy medication, and on his way to the bathroom he told me I should take my boat and sail, go see the world. I was looking at the art on his walls and decided I’d take the dog with me, as a companion, so I named him Eyebrows ‘cause of his dark eyebrows.

[freelancearsonist]

in shades of gray and candlelight

➔ Marcus Pike x fem!Reader - 7.2k

➔ Nothing good starts in a getaway car, but you sure do have fun delaying the inevitable.

➔ Rated MA for artist!reader my beloved (reader is able-bodied, basic female anatomy and feminine pronouns used, reader is described as having hair that is long enough to be put up but otherwise she’s a blank slate), unprotected p in v sex, cum swallowing, creampie, semi-public sex acts, oral (r + m receiving), handjobs, fingering, very light switchy dom/sub dynamics, a couple spanks, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, honey), heavy praise kink, light size kink, consent king!marcus, just like the song it does not end happily [please let me know if i missed any at all :)]

➔ this is my (first 😈) submission to @beskarandblasters Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! i really did mean for this to be a drabble especially since i didn't know anything about marcus before receiving this prompt but he has my whole fucking heart and mind now 😩 thank you so much for the challenge lovely kel, and special thank u to my baby @fhatbhabie for betaing and screaming with me ily <3 (dividers by the amazing and talented @saradika-graphics)

You meet Marcus Pike on a Friday night and it’s obvious from the start that he’s going to change your life forever.

He looks a little disheveled when he enters the gallery–brown hair ruffled and standing up in places, tie loose, top shirt button undone. There’s an alluring five o’clock shadow burgeoning across his jaw and cheeks. He looks like he’s had a long day, and it’s only going to get longer. It’s all part of the plan, of course. He’s supposed to look like a standard blue collar worker, and he pulls it off with ease.

It’s the exhibition’s opening night, so it’s a little more packed than the gallery normally would be. It works in his favor–he’s able to collect a plastic cup of champagne from the refreshment table and blend seamlessly into the crowd.

His eyes are diligent as they scan the faces that come and go. He tries to commit them all to memory–the tall woman with the slight limp, the short guy wearing the Hawaiian patterned shirt. There’s dozens of people that pass by, and so many of them are forgettable. It’s exhibitions like these that make him dread undercover work.

The art on the walls isn’t exceptional, but it’s not bad. Nothing that seems worth stealing, that’s for sure. But his source is good, and his source said that this place was getting hit tonight. So he keeps his watchful eyes vigilant and pretends to sip the champagne in his hand.

Until he finds your exhibit.

There’s a depth to your art that he’s come to be familiar with–something he sees often in work of high value. Anyone can make abstract art, it’s as simple as flicking paint at a canvas. But few can charge it as emotionally as you have. To convey feeling and passion and heart through abstraction is a separate art form all its own, and it’s one you’ve mastered.

He’s seen original Rothko’s, Van Gogh’s, Kandinsky’s; he’s held their frames in his own two hands. But nothing’s ever made his breath hitch in his throat quite the way yours does.

He stands in front of a canvas simply labeled “Waves In Motion” with your name printed neatly underneath, brow creased with a concentration that seems a little unnecessary given the subject matter of the painting. It’s all shades of blue and violet, swirling together in a way that seems partly sensuous, partly violent. It makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle, and he takes a step closer. That’s when he notices it: a single dot of red paint right in the middle, a focal point of all the swirling cobalts. So small that he wouldn’t notice it if he wasn’t close; so small it could almost be interpreted as a mistake.

But he knows without having to ask that it’s not an answer. He wonders who that dot represents: you, the artist? Most likely.

Without meaning to, he smiles. It’s been a long time, years really, since a piece of art provoked such thought. 

“Hi.”

The voice Marcus hears next to him is soft, dulcet. He doesn’t turn to the noise quickly–from the tone in that word alone he senses a hesitance, as if you’re a fawn that’s lost its mother and you’re bound to run if he makes any sudden movements.

And, truth be told, part of him thinks he might not be able to look away even if he tried right now. There’s something so beautiful about this painting–and underneath, something so ominous. There’s an air about the work that says he might unlock the secrets of the universe if he just keeps looking.

“Hi there.” He keeps his eyes trained on “Waves In Motion” as he responds–playing the game. He’s here to brush shoulders, after all; to be the right amount of forgettable yet memorable. 

“This is my best, I think,” you murmur while taking a step closer. “It took the least time of all of them, surprisingly. But… I think when you know exactly what you’re trying to convey, it just comes to you easily.”

“These are yours?” There’s admiration in his eyes and an air of something akin to disbelief in his voice as he takes in the group of canvases proudly displayed on the plain white gallery walls.

And then he turns and lets himself take you in. More specifically the curling strand of hair that falls out of your updo to frame your face, the deeply plunging neckline of your dress, the way your calf muscles work even standing still in your high-heeled shoes. You’re a work of art in your own right; the most beautiful piece he’s seen in a long time.

“Yeah.” You duck your head–shyly, modestly–and he’s hooked. There’s one thing in this building that deserves awe and reverence more than your painting, and it’s you. “You know, you’re only the second person who’s come over tonight.”

“No way. They’re all just working their way back here,” he whispers before he can calculate a more articulate response.

But it works in his favor–your giggle is gorgeous, if a sound can be described that way. Sweet and syrupy, it seeps over him as if he’s standing under a cracked honeycomb. He hasn’t actually taken a drink of his champagne, and yet he can feel his nervous system tingling. You’re just that intoxicating.

“The gallery closes in half an hour,” you tell him–a little wistfully at that. “In my defense, I don’t have any family or friends in the area. I wasn’t really expecting anyone to show, not with so many other talented artists here.”

It seems so indignantly unfair to Marcus. That you’re shoved into the far back corner of the gallery, that people haven’t come in droves from all over the country to see your work.

“Where are you from?” He asks as his mind finally starts to clear from the haze it’s been in the past few minutes. With only half an hour left on the job, he allows himself a small sip of the drink that he’s been cradling all night.

“New York. This is actually only my second exhibition,” you explain, and you almost sound shy about it; as if you need to be embarrassed about being young and fresh-faced in the art industry, as if you aren’t the most talented artist Marcus has ever met in person.

He hums in response, eyes unconsciously dragging over you once more. “You came a long way for this.”

You smile so prettily up at him, and in that moment he sees something in your eyes. He can’t describe it–maybe it’s something akin to longing. Something incomplete, unexplored. It’s familiar; it’s the red dot from your painting. Solitary amidst the swirling, lost yet not hopeless.

And just like your painting, he finds himself wanting to get lost in your eyes.

“Well, it’s not every day a gallery wants to host you,” you say after another sip of your drink. “Plus, I’ve never been to Texas before, and I needed a change of scenery.”

There’s something so charming, so boyishly intoxicating about the smile he graces you with. “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s hotter than I’m used to,” you say with a chuckle that he echoes. “And I haven’t been able to do any exploring yet, my flight only got in a couple hours before I had to be here.”

“That’s a shame,” he hums in a tone that reveals deeper meaning. “How long are you here for? Do you have any plans?”

“A week,” you murmur. Subconsciously he leans in closer, on the edge of his proverbial seat. To seal the deal, you lean in too. “And not a damned one.”

There’s no air between you and Marcus. You exist in a vacuum for this moment–unable to breathe, choking on anticipation. He’s so close, yet way too far away. You want to be consumed by him–for him to be swirling blue; and you, a single speck of red in his midst.

The moment shatters with an audible sound–a deep, penetrating voice. “He’s still not here, huh? I don’t think your boyfriend’s coming. If he even exists.” There’s something strange in the raspy voice that drawls these words–something strange enough to immediately put Marcus on the alert.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion into your vacuum, but you recover quickly. You have to, because this intrusive stranger is standing way too close and has way too much alcohol on his breath.

And then something strange happens–you worm your arm around Marcus’s waist and press yourself firmly into his side.

“Actually, he’s right here,” you say. There’s a quality to your voice that wasn’t there before when you were just talking to Marcus–it’s firm, clipped, bordering on hostile. “He just got held up at work. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Thankfully, Marcus has always been one to think quickly on his feet. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, unconsciously moving an inch or two in front of you. Protecting without really meaning to. “I’m sorry, honey. I got here as soon as I could.”

The man–burly and balding, probably a good twenty years older than you–scoffs. “Unbelievable.”

“Is there a problem here?” Marcus draws up to his full height–towering a good few inches over this strange intruder.

Whoever this guy is, he’s not completely stupid. He senses this isn’t going to be a fight he’ll win, so he backs off. “Not at all, man. Just didn’t want little miss standing here all alone the whole night.”

“Thanks,” you say with bitter reprehension. You wind even closer to Marcus–closer than this sudden farce demands. “But we’re fine now.”

He nods once–curt and unhappy, but seemingly satisfied that he’s not going to get what he wants. “Have a good night, ma’am. Sir.”

Marcus takes a mental inventory of the man as he storms off, committing his physical description and his outfit to memory. He doesn’t look like a casual art viewer, and he doesn’t look like a collector. He’s exactly the type that Marcus came here to look out for.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as you step out of Marcus’s personal space. “He’s been hovering all night, asking me who I’m going home with and shit.”

“That’s the other guy who came over to talk to you?” It brings a deep frown to his face, a crease forming between his brows. It certainly raises a red flag–if the guy has any eye for value, of course he would be drawn to your exhibit. And if he has an eye for value, he could be the guy Marcus came for.

“Yeah.” You rub the back of your neck awkwardly and avert your gaze, as if you should be embarrassed for drawing that guy’s attention. “It’s not been the greatest night.”

Marcus hates that. He hates that you came all this way to be let down, that this is only your second exhibition and you’ve had such a bad experience with it. More than anything, he hates that he can still see the spark in your eyes when you look up at him, and he can tell that it’s dimmed.

“Gimme just a minute.”

He doesn’t mean to be so abrupt, but he wants to make it quick. He hustles to the single-stall men’s room and tugs the radio out of his inside jacket pocket to call in the man’s description. Then he turns it off, tucks it back into its concealed pocket, and goes over to the sink.

He thought he looked perfect for the part he had to play when he left his house to come here. Now, he’s too disheveled. He wets his fingertips and tries to tame the mess on top of his head; he re-buttons his shirt and tightens his tie. He looks flustered, and he’s not even surprised by it. You’ve got his heart pounding with anticipation in a way he doesn’t think it ever has before.

Butterflies fluttering on in his stomach, he emerges from the restroom to resume his position by your side.

Except you’re not by your exhibit anymore, and the crowd has thinned considerably. He checks his watch and realizes there’s only five minutes before the gallery closes for the night. Maybe you’ve decided to cut your losses and leave early.

He hates the way his gut twists with disappointment, but then he reminds himself that he didn’t come here for you. He’s working, and he needs to stay vigilant. No distractions, no complications.

“You’re still here.”

There’s a wave of relief that washes over him as he hears your voice, and this time he’s not too timid to turn towards you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Thought I might’ve scared you off.” There’s a fresh cup of champagne in your hand and a hint of vulnerability in your voice, and it makes his heart pick up pace just the slightest bit. You duck your head–that shy, modest gesture again. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just done that without permission.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells you, more earnestly than he’s ever said anything in his life. “I didn’t mind at all, I swear. Just had to hit the head.”

You look so deeply into his eyes he almost wonders if you aren’t looking through him. But whatever you find, you must like it.

He clears his throat and tries to not show how thoroughly unraveled he is by your gaze. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marcus.” You pause for a moment, and he can tell that there’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue–so he remains silent in hopes of drawing it out.

“Do you have someone to go home to?”

There it is–the invitation he was both dreading and hoping for. He should really lie. He’s here on a job, after all–he’s supposed to avoid complications, and some instinct tells him you’re going to be much more than a simple distraction. But he’s told you the truth so far, and he doesn’t want to stop now.

“No. No, I don’t.”

This is everything that Marcus has never even considered doing. It’s late, it’s dark, it’s a little chilly for spring in Austin. The alley is grimey and drafty–your hair blows in the breeze even as you kneel down before him.

All he can do is stand there, dumbstruck with his back up against the rough brick wall, and stare down at you. 

He’s still breathless from the way you’ve been kissing him–all heat and passion, fire and brimstone. Your hands ran through his hair and undid the effort he put in while in the bathroom, and his hands clutched your waist in a futile attempt to ground himself. Your lips are so soft; he thinks he could kiss you forever and never get tired of it. He was certainly planning on finding out, until you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“You… you don’t have to–”

But the way you look up at him through your lashes makes his throat close up around whatever protest he was going to try.

“I want to,” you assure him–more of a purr than a spoken statement.

And this really isn’t the place. He shouldn’t let you do this here. But he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t make him harden in his boring gray work slacks.

Marcus has never been about excitement. He’s always strayed to the comfortable and familiar–he falls into the sweet, caring companion role with grace and ease.

And tonight doesn’t have to be that different. If you’re going to suck his dick in a dark, dingey alley, he’ll let you. But he’s going to lay his jacket down on the ground so you don’t scrape up your knees first.

You keen at the thoughtful gesture and grace him with a grateful smile as your adept fingers work his belt open. He’s straining against the seam of his pants now, begging for the attention that your gaze promises him.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think you’re every bit as eager to get his trousers and boxers down as he is.

And Lord help him, he delights in the gasp you emit when his cock springs free from its confines.

“Fuck, Marcus.” Your lips actually part as you freeze for a moment, just taking him in. He’s thick, maybe an inch longer than average, swollen head peeking through uncut skin as if begging for your waiting mouth. He curves to the left just a little bit, and you can almost see his pulse thrumming through the prominent vein that runs along the length of him.

“S’not that impressive,” he mumbles, and you know that he knows that he’s full of shit.

Your fingers almost don’t wrap all the way around him, and suddenly you’re second-guessing this back alley stint, too. You want him in bed. You want him deep inside you, kissing your face as he fucks you, hands all over your body, thrusts hard yet slow. You want it languid, you want it desperate, you want it any way he’ll give it to you. You don’t want to blow him and say goodbye.

He calculates your hesitation as something other than pure unadulterated lust, and he lifts your chin gently with his index and middle fingers.

“Hey, we don’t have to–”

Again, you cut him off–this time, by dragging your tongue from the seam of his balls all the way along his length to swirl messily around his tip. You taste every heady inch of him and then moan at the salty foreshadowing on your tongue when you catch a droplet of precum leaking from his slit.

Your hand springs into action with a long, slow stroke along his cock, and then you sink your mouth around him and he moans. Without caution or pretense, like you’re not in an alley that anyone could walk down at any moment. It’s a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be and his head thumps back against the brick wall hard enough to hurt, and even still he’s never felt so overwhelmed with pleasure before in his life.

Your nose meets the neat patch of hair at his base and your free hand comes up to his hip, effectively pinning him against the wall when he tries to buck greedily even further into your mouth.

No one’s ever taken him so relentlessly before. You’re insistent, pressing onward even as you gag on his length, and it makes his balls tighten in a way he’s never felt before. It’s like you’re hungry for him; like you’re doing this more for your own pleasure than for his.

Marcus Pike has been a giver his whole life. Tonight, with you, he finally decides to take.

He’d be embarrassed about how fast he comes if you weren’t so eager for it. You moan around him and push yourself as deep as you can, throat working around him desperately not to choke on the size of him. Before he can warn you he’s spilling into your mouth, maybe more than he’s ever come before, thick and salty but undeniably sweet too. You allow yourself a moment to savor him as he pulses in your mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive head of him in a way that makes him shiver and whine.

He’s panting, nearly light-headed, when you finally pull off of him and press one last gentle kiss over his slit.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, because there’s nothing else to say.

You giggle, and he realizes with a strange wistfulness that he would do anything to keep this girl–a girl he’s just met, a girl who’s leaving to go back to her home on the other side of the country in just a week–smiling and laughing the way she is now.

“My hotel is only a couple blocks away,” you tell him as he helps you to your feet. “Would you like a nightcap?”

You pick up his jacket and dust the grime off it–it makes him chuckle. Everything about this encounter has flown in the face of what he’s used to. 

He’s never felt so alive.

“I would love a nightcap.”

Your senses wake up slower than normal.

First it’s your eyes–they tune in on the bright mid-sunrise light streaming through the open balcony blinds on the far wall. It falls in slivers and shards over the rumpled white hotel-standard bedding–the second thing your senses tune into. Everything is so soft and light, but it’s a little cold too. Especially the other side of the bed; there’s no heat remaining there at all.

You push yourself up with a grunt and let the sheets fall away from your bare torso, tired eyes scanning around the room. You notice clothes scattered all over the floor while your ears wake up enough to hear water running in the bathroom, and you can’t help the involuntary smile that spreads over your face. He’s still here.

Marcus lets the too-hot water wash over him in scalding waves, muscles still a little sore after a long night tangled together with you.

He checked his phone first thing this morning, and the gallery was quiet all night. They think the suspect he radioed in was the guy they were looking for, but they weren’t able to apprehend him. The running theory is that he might’ve recognized Marcus and decided low-value art wasn’t worth the hassle, but one guess is as good as the next until they can bait and catch the guy.

It’s the weekend now, and Marcus is thanking his lucky stars. Not only does he have a successful mission to celebrate, but he has the most beautiful woman in the world to celebrate it with.

He emerges after a few minutes, wet hair messily scattered over his forehead and wide hips straining against a low-slung hotel towel. He’s a languid Saturday morning wet dream on two legs.

“G’morning,” he hums with a smile–he doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes dip down to hungrily take in your naked torso.

“Good morning, Marcus.”

He stalks towards you slowly, eyes darkening with each advancing step. It doesn’t take more than a second to realize he didn’t get his fill of your body last night, but you’re certainly not complaining.

He’s already starting to harden as he drops his towel and crawls over the foot of the bed, surging forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. If last night was desperation and passion, this morning is syrupy and sweet. He explores your mouth slowly, tongue sweeping between your lips and tracing every curve and ridge he can–almost like he’s trying to commit you to memory.

There are universes in the depths of his dark eyes. He may not say exactly what he’s thinking, but you can see it playing out in those baby browns of his. There’s something simmering underneath the surface–something more than just lust or desire.

Something dangerous.

You tug him closer and cup his face in your hands, enjoying the gentle scratch of morning stubble underneath your palms. He surges forward and presses you into the pillows as he settles himself comfortably between your spread legs. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs through kisses scattered along the length of your jaw.

You know you probably look like you got run over by a bus–you toss and turn in your sleep, and it always leaves your hair a matted mess. And that’s not even mentioning the slight tremble in your thighs, left over from Marcus’s enthusiastic attention last night. But there’s so much sincerity in his voice; you don’t think he would waste his breath saying it if he didn’t mean it, and that fact alone makes your heart pound with desire.

There’s a syrupy slowness to the way he moves down your body, lips leaving behind heavy wet kisses as he works down your chest and over your stomach.

And it’s almost like he senses the protest working its way up your throat when you feel his hot breath on your thighs, because he looks up at you and there’s sternness in his gaze. You got your fill last night, and now it’s his turn.

“May I?” He looks up at you from the apex of your thighs with big, round puppy eyes that are impossible to refuse–so you nod eagerly and don’t even try.

If you were eager to have him in your mouth last night, he’s desperate.

There’s no hesitation, no build-up. It’s almost aggressive, the way he buries his face in your heat. He laps like a dog at a bowl, hips canting into the mattress involuntarily as your taste floods his mouth.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growls into your sopping cunt. “You taste incredible.”

You keen at the praise and card your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the damp, spiky strands when his tongue laves heavily over your sensitive clit.

Marcus’s greedy hands grip underneath your thighs and push them as far as you can comfortably spread them. You’re still so sensitive after at least three orgasms last night–you lost count after a point–and it serves to wind your nerves tighter than they’ve ever been wound before.

One hand slides to the junction of your thigh and his thumb comes to take over the pressure on your clit as his tongue plunges between your soaked folds. It’s even more overwhelming like this, and there’s not a thing in the world that you want to do more than let him have his fun. Especially when that hand and his tongue switch spots–his lips seal and suck around your clit while he presses two achingly thick fingers into your waiting entrance.

It actually makes your muscles tighten and your back rise off the bed as he curls his fingers just right to find that spot that makes you fall apart for him. 

He can tell you’re getting close–he’s already so intune with the way your muscles twitch, the change of pitch in your moans. You whine and cry for him the tighter he winds the rubberband, and he’s eager to make it snap.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he says over the overwhelming flutter of his fingers scissoring and curling inside you. “Let me have it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut so tightly as pleasure wracks through your body that you can see constellations. Large hands come to pin your thighs open as his tongue keeps working, lapping and gliding against your cunt with ease as a wave of arousal gushes from your entrance.

You’ve never been so wet in your life, and he’s just getting started.

He trails open-mouthed kisses up your body as you catch your breath–his slick-soaked lips coat your skin with your own arousal as he works his way up to allow you a taste of yourself.

The first wet lick of his tongue into your mouth makes you moan. It’s not the first time you’ve tasted your own slick–you’ve had a moment or two of curiosity–but it’s never been quite as enjoyable as it is on his tongue. It pairs so perfectly with the minty tang of toothpaste left on his breath and makes you hungry for more.

He moves fluidly under your direction as you push him onto his back and roll to straddle his lap all in one graceful movement. It’s perfect like this–he doesn’t have to support his weight so he can run his big meaty hands all over every inch of you, and you can kiss him as deep as you want while you grind down on his aching length.

“Shit, baby,” he pants against your lips. Those aforementioned beefy palms grasp hard at your asscheeks to guide your hips, pulling you into a slow, long grind that bumps the head of his cock against your clit deliciously.

Your pulse thrums with desperation until you’re seeing white–no more teasing, no more preamble. You take his girth in your hand and give him a firm stroke; if you had a little more presence of mind, you might be embarrassed at how wet his dick is simply from grinding against you for a few seconds.

“Go ahead, baby, take it when you’re ready.”

He gasps at the first press of his cockhead against your entrance, head flopping back against the pillows as his hands squeeze your asscheeks with bruising force.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he murmurs, throat working around a thick gulp. “You can take it baby, I know you can. Did so good for me last night.”

You think you would honestly do anything he asks of you so long as he just keeps talking like this.

It takes a moment for you to work your way down his length–he’s so mouth-wateringly thick and the curve of his cock hits the most delicious spot inside you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Atta girl,” he praises breathlessly as your hips settle flush against his. “Just sit there for a minute. So pretty on my dick.”

God, he makes your entire body flush with heat. He turns your blood to molten lava with his words, lighting every inch of skin on fire. You’ve never felt a sensation like this–so overwhelming yet so intoxicating.

You start with slow movements as his hands trace up and down your sides sweetly–it’s more like you’re grinding on him than anything else. His thumbs rub abstract little patterns into your skin as his hands work up to your tits; when he finally takes them in the palms of his hands and squeezes all pretense of soft, sweet morning-after sex flies out the window.

You drop down hard on his cock and it nearly punches the wind out of him. 

“Yes!” He growls darkly. His eyes flash with something dangerous–it’s the only warning you get before his hand slaps the meat of your ass and grabs a greedy handful. “Just like that baby, use my fuckin’ dick.”

And maybe, if he was someone else, you wouldn’t be nearly as eager to follow instructions. But with Marcus, you’re nothing if not obedient.

Last night was exploration and discovery–hours into the early morning spent learning each other’s bodies, finding what makes the other squirm and whine and beg. This morning is in perfect juxtaposition to that sweet, soft, probing sex–you know what drives each other crazy now, and you each use it to your advantage. Aggressively.

He surges up to suck a pert nipple into his mouth as you set a hard pace on him, long fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave marks. He lands another sharp smack to your ass when your thighs start to shake–a reward for using his cock exactly how he asked.

”M-Marcus—”

”I know, sweetheart,” he purrs through a guttural moan. He cants his hips up to meet your thrusts at just the right moment—he hits something so devastatingly pleasurable that your vision prickles white around the edges. “I know, it’s so much, isn’t it? It’s okay, you can let go. Come for me.”

There’s a condescending note to his voice that only makes you squeeze harder around his cock, and within seconds you’re hurtling uncontrollably into ecstasy.

He fucks you through the telltale fluttering of your cunt even when your hips stop moving; strong hands hold you in place and work you through the ebbing waves of pleasure that wrack through your entire body.

”M’so close, honey,” he grunts with a particularly sharp thrust upward. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw in his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Where do you want me?”

”I-inside,” you gasp. “Come inside me, Marcus.”

He fills you as soon as he has your instruction—hard thrusts punctuated by breathy moans as he pumps you full of his release.

There’s a long, silent moment where Marcus pulls your bare chest tightly against his own and you pant into the crook of his neck while trying desperately to even-out your breathing. His fingertips dance across your skin-feather-light, soothing.

The sun is higher in the sky now and meets your eyes with blinding rays through the balcony shutters when they finally open again.

”That was amazing, honey,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. He’s caught his own breath now, but he doesn’t make any attempt to let you go. “How’re you so perfect?”

”M’not perfect,” you mumble into his shoulder; but even to your own ears, it sounds half-hearted. The truth is, he’s so earnestly honest that you believe him.

He hums his dissent with a kiss pressed to your hairline. ”You are to me.”

And you so desperately want to believe him that you don’t even try to argue.

You bask in this warm, lovely afterglow for a few moments longer before Marcus gently taps your hip. ”Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll buy you breakfast.”

You pull off of his softened cock with a whine and try not to get worked up all over again at the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs. ”Th-there’s a free continental breakfast downstairs.”

”Oh, then I’ll definitely pick up the tab,” he jokes with a smirk—all you want to do is kiss his goofy, stupidly handsome face.

He pulls you into the bathroom and starts the water running to fill the tub—he’s never really been a bath guy, but your legs are a little too shaky to endure a shower. He’s so attentive—from running a damp cloth between your legs to helping lower you into the water. He doesn’t complain in the slightest when you catch his hand and ask him to join you; he just shuffles you forward and slides in behind you like it’s a casual act that he performs with every hookup.

It’s intimate. That’s really the only way to describe it. You sit between his spread legs, back to his chest, head rested back against his shoulder while his fingers ghost idle paths over your skin. You don’t talk; you don’t really need to. Somehow, you fit together like souls who have known each other for years. Like all you’ve been missing is each other.

You drift off in his arms as he traces soap over all the curves and ridge of your body, the steady beat of his heart thumping in your ear.

It breaks his heart a little bit to wake you—the fact that you’re so comfortable with him, that you trust him with such vulnerability, makes his head spin a little bit. But the water’s turning cold, and the last thing he wants is for you to come down sick or something.

He rouses you with gentle, feathery kisses scattered over your rosy-scented shoulders and neck.

”Mmm… what time is it?” You grumble, pressing your sleep-addled face further into the crook of his neck.

”Just after noon,” he whispers into your hair after glancing up at the clock on the wall.

He can feel the way your mouth shifts into a pout. “Shit. We missed breakfast.”

The adorable downward tilt of your frown as you lift your dad to look at him makes his heart flutter. “Let’s go out, then. The first farmer’s market of the season is going on downtown. I’m sure we can find something good for brunch.”

”Kinda sounds like you’re asking me on a date,” you hum with a slight smirk dancing at your lips.

”Maybe I am.” His tone is light, his meaning clear—he knows this goes beyond a one-night stand, and there’s no harm done if you’re not wanting to cross this boundary. He’d understand not wanting to get too serious about someone who lives thousands of miles away from your home, of course. He’d never blame you.

You give him your best appraising look, staring deep into those constellation-filled brown eyes. ”You’re not sick of me yet?”

”I have a feeling I couldn’t get sick of you if I tried.” There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone, in his eyes. He genuinely wants to spend time with you, even if there’s nowhere for this to really go.

You hum thoughtfully. “I do love farmer’s markets.”

You’re with Marcus more often than not over the course of the next week.

He takes you sightseeing to some of his favorite spots around Austin, brings you to his favorite restaurants, shows you his favorite movies. But he multitasks—while teaching you about himself, he learns as much as he can about you and picks activities he knows you’ll love, too. 

He’s a pragmatist; he knows your time together is short, and he wants to make himself unforgettable. If he never sees you again, he wants you to think about him every once in a while and look back on this time fondly.

You spend your days while Marcus is at work painting or drawing or lingering around the gallery, and you fall asleep in his arms every night. With shades of gray moonlight and candlelight cast over your hotel room, it almost feels like this could go on forever.

He tells you to wear something nice before he picks you up on the last night–he wants to celebrate in style, which starts with reservations at an up-scale restaurant. 

He’s so achingly handsome. He’s in a matching gray suit over a white button-up, top two buttons undone and no tie to be seen. His face bears the slightest five o’clock shadow and your eyes gravitate to the curve of his lips–the instant smile that takes over his face when those gorgeous brown eyes of his land on you.

If you never see him again, this is exactly how you want to remember him.

“Wow,” he whispers reverently. “You look amazing.”

It’s not the most impressive dress you own, but he looks at you like you’re wearing something worth millions–like you’re worth millions.

You lean up and kiss him, and everything feels right. His hands rest on your waist and it’s so easy to pretend that you won’t be on the other side of the country twenty-four hours from now.

The restaurant is beautiful. Dimly lit and romantic, tables spaced enough to give you some privacy. He takes your hand on top of the table and holds it the entire meal. The conversation is light and airy–you’re both stubbornly dancing around what really needs to be said.

Dessert is cleared and the wine bottle is empty by the time Marcus finally works up the courage to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

“I don’t want you to go.”

You knew this would be coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier. You avert your gaze, instead focusing on his large hand wrapped around yours and the windshield wiper motion of his thumb tracing back and forth over your palm. No one’s touch has ever sent such electric tingles through your nervous system the way his does.

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing at all.

“Look, I…” He takes a deep breath and straightens his spine a little bit, hand leaving yours to gently cup your chin. He forces you to look him in the eyes as he breaks your heart. “I think this could really be something, if we gave it a shot.”

You haven’t lied to him yet, and you don’t plan to start now. “I… I think it could, too. If I didn’t have to go back.”

“Don’t go back then.” There’s a firmness to his voice, but it couldn’t be any more obvious that he’s begging if he actually got down on his knees. “Stay here with me. We’ll figure this out. Just… don’t go.”

And here–with his earnest eyes on yours and his gentle, loving touch on your skin–it’s easy to pretend that it’s that simple.

He takes you back to your hotel room and sheds you easily out of your dress. As cliche as it sounds, it’s not just sex this time. Things that it’s too early to say are buried deep within every kiss, every thrust. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and looks deeply into your eyes while he fills you and you’ve never felt so overwhelmingly connected.

The thud of his heartbeat is insistent in your ear as you come down from your high–so calming, so heartbreaking. You lay on his chest while his breathing evens out and soak up these last few moments of bliss. And then, once you’re sure he’s sound asleep, you carefully worm out of his grip. There’s one more thing you have to do before you go back to New York.

Loud, insistent ringing pulls Marcus from the depths of sleep. He tries to ignore it and go back to sleep, but now that his senses are alert, the sound in combination with bright Saturday morning sunlight won’t allow him the luxury. He presses his face deeper into the pillow that he’s somehow wound himself around in his sleep, but that damned ringing won’t stop.

He sits up slowly and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes–and that’s when he notices the empty sheets next to him. Your side of the bed is long cold, and he knows. Before he even sees the note on the dresser and your room key next to it, he knows you’re gone.

He finds his trousers discarded halfway between the bed and the door and pulls his blaring phone out of the pocket.

“The gallery got hit sometime early this morning. They took everything. Every goddamn piece. You need to get here now.”

His body moves on autopilot as he pulls yesterday’s clothes back on, fingers numb to all sensation as they work to button his shirt. This can’t be happening. It can’t be you.

He notices the note on the dresser as he’s threading his belt through the loops of his trousers, and his gut twists with a sickening sense of foreboding.

I really did fall for you, Marcus. But nothing good starts in a getaway car.

He’s not sure if you knew who he was the whole time and this whole thing was calculated, or if you just got lucky. He doesn’t want to believe you’re that cunning and cruel. He wants to believe that this is just a misunderstanding, that you’re out for ice or something and you’ll walk back through the door at any moment.

But you don’t.

The note is enough of a confession for him. He’ll have the power of the FBI on his side to find you–and he will find you. What he’ll do when he does, he’s not sure. He guesses he’ll know when he sees you.

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[deathmetalunicorn1]

That was amazing! This will be my last request around Eri!Reader until you reopen your requests so I’m not spamming you! (Thank you so much for writing these, I get so excited whenever you post since your so amazing and talented!! 💞✨)

Part 14 After returning to Water 7 to heal from their battle (And happy to learn Franky is going to make them a Ship and join them) Garp the Fist comes in, and reveals to be Luffy’s Grandfather, but before he could continue beating the snot out of Luffy, Reader stops him (Garp is happy to finally meet his one and only Granddaughter Reader!)

However Garp ends up pissed when Luffy told him Spadam hit her, and wants to get his hands on him! (No one puts their hands on his Granddaughter!! NO ONE!!)

Though Reader calms Luffy and Garp down from wanting to go back/to Enies Lobby to beat Spadam up (Garp’s cackling after learing that his sweet Granddaughter hit Spadam in his ‘Royal Jewels’, as he’s very proud of her for doing that) and leaves the Straw Hats alone after telling Luffy about his dad Dragon (Not before promising to spend time with Reader and gives her one of his Rice Crackers)

For the next 3 days the Straw Hats and all of Water 7 had a huge party, with Reader playing around with Chimney and Gonbei in her bathing suit Franky gave her (Including little Arm Floats that look like Starfish/Kitties)

And with Nami’s help, Reader calls Ace to talk with him, and Ace was holding in his rage after hearing what his little sister went through (As she told him it was scary) and the fact she got slapped, but he started laughing when Luffy told him what Reader did to Spadam’s ‘Jewels’ (Whitebeard and his sons were doing the same thing as Ace, angry and furious, but proceeded to laugh hysterically after learning what Reader did to someone’s ‘Jewels’)

I love Whitebeard so much (He’s so protective and caring about those apart of his family) he’s just a giant softie

They all see not only Zoro, Luffy, Robin and Reader’s Bounties upgraded, but everyone get a Bounty themselves (And everyone screamed when Reader’s bounty Skyrocketed again at 320-350 Million)

Reader also comforts her Brother Sanji about his Wanted Poster by giving him one of her own drawings of him (It’s a kid drawing, but compared to Luffy, it’s 100x better than his art skills and she drew it out of love)

I’ll wait until next time to ask you for a Garp and Eri!Reader Special (They’re going to spend a whole day together!) it’s just pure. unadulterated. Fluff.

-It had been two days since you and your family arrived back from Enies Lobby, as many of you were severely injured, you were luckily, being the least injured, but after overworking your quirk, you were just as tired as the rest of them.

-You were so happy that Franky was a part of the crew and that Usopp was back, as you felt protective of your family, you never wanted any of them to leave- you never wanted to be apart from them.

-Franky was super nice to you as the others were slowly waking up, both him and Iceburg treating you to breakfast as you were the first to wake up.

-You were in awe, seeing Luffy still sleeping but also eating, unable to look away until Sanji and Nami yelled at him to wake up while Robin and Usopp were laughing lightly at the sight.

-A knock then came from the door before it burst open and Franky dropped his shoulder, wrapping his arms around you, shielding you from the debris.

-A large man then entered, a marine which made you clutch at Franky’s Hawaiian shirt, scared as everyone was quickly able to recognize this man, Monkey D. Garp!

-Luffy’s jaw was dropped, “Grandpa?!” everyone quickly turned in shock, hearing this, yelling in shock while your little hands came to your face in shock.

-Garp then made you gasp as he punched Luffy, sending him flying into a wall. Zoro and Sanji were stunned, ready for a fight, seeing that he was able to hurt Luffy.

-You pushed on Franky’s chest and you managed to slip out of his arms and you ran over as Garp stalked towards Luffy, cracking his knuckles, ready to discipline him before you ran in front of your brother.

-Your arms were spread and you had big fat tears in your eyes, “Please don’t hurt my big brother!” everything froze, seeing you protecting Luffy and Garp stammered, trying to tell you that he wasn’t going to hurt Luffy, just discipline him.

-The tears fell from your eyes and Garp instantly fell to his knees, hugging you close, “Grandpa’s so sorry little Y/N! I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

-You sniffled loudly as Luffy struggled to his feet, a bit dizzy, before you spoke, “You’re my grandpa?” Garp glared at Luffy, his eyes turning red, “You didn’t tell her about your one and only grandpa?!”

-You tugged on Garp’s shirt gently, not seeing him as someone so scary now, “I have two grandpas- you’re my second one!”

-Garp turned to stone in shock before crumbling into a sobbing pile while Robin picked you up, holding you up on her hip, he cried, lamenting that he wasn’t your first grandpa.

-He then shot up, looking completely fine, looking fired up, “So who was your first grandpa?!” he wanted to find out to take that title from whoever got to you first, no matter who it was.

-You beamed brightly, your arms lifting to the sky happily, “I’ve never seen him but I’ve talked to him with Big Brother Ace- he said his name is Whitebeard!”

-The flames around Garp seemed to increase, growing hotter as his eyes turned red, furious that his adorable granddaughter had been adopted by Whitebeard of all people and that you saw him as your first grandpa, while Garp was in second place!

-He could only imagine you (in cartoon form), in Whitebeard’s arms, laughing with him as he stood on the 1st place spot of a podium while Garp was on his knees in second place.

-Garp wasn’t going to deal with your crew at the moment, instead joining you all for a meal, you sitting on his knee as you held a cup of juice.

-Garp noticed the bandage on your head, “What caused this?” you lifted your hand to your head and Nami was the one to answer, “It was that marine, Spandam- he hit Y/N for trying to protect Robin.”

-Garp froze, turning white, hearing that a grown adult- a grown man, put his hands on a child, injuring you as he was quick to get fired up, “Where is the bas-basket case!” he caught himself, not wanting to swear in front of you.

-You didn’t know why he was calling Spandam a basket, before his face appeared in your head, and his mask did look a bit like a basket.

-Your family was also still furious at Spandam, glaring and voicing their own anger while you were eating a cookie Garp gave to you.

-Nami pointed at him, scolding him, “Oi! Don’t be giving her cookies for breakfast!” you flinched as Garp just beamed brightly, “It’s fine- it’s fine!” Sanji grabbed you, “It is not fine! She needs healthy food in the morning.” Garp pouted, wanting to spoil you.

-He then spoke again, “So where is Spandam?” a few grins appeared as Franky ruffled your hair gently, “Y/N here took care of him, with a well-placed headbutt to the family jewels!”

-Garp laughed loudly, finding it hysterical, before he ruffled your head, praising you before he stood, telling Luffy about Dragon, his dad and you had question marks floating around your head, as you didn’t know any dragons.

-Luffy told you that he would tell you all about his dad and Garp gave you a bag of cookies, “I have to leave now my little Y/N~ I’ll come back to spend some time with you.”

-You smiled up at him, holding your hand up to him, extending your pinkie finger, “Pinkie promise?” Usopp was the one to teach you about pinkie promises, and Garp as well as several others around, Usopp, Luffy, Franky, Iceberg, and Sanji, all collapsed to the ground, clutching at their chests at your cuteness.

-After Garp left and all the damage caused by Aqua Laguna was fixed, everyone celebrated! There was a huge party with drinking, eating lots of barbeque, and you got to run around with Chimney in the water, being a normal kid for one, wearing your starfish shaped water wings that Franky gave you over your wet suit.

-Franky was confused why you were wearing a wet suit as he was your lifeguard, letting you sit on his leg, asking you and you pulled your arms in close, looking down at your hands, “There’s…” you couldn’t speak, instead pulling your sleeve up, showing him the scars, at least some of them, on your arms.

-His eyes were wide, seeing his as he held your hand gently, before a hand on his head pulled him out of his shock, and you both saw Luffy there who kneeled down, seeing you showing Franky your scars, “Someone hurt Y/N- badly. We don’t know much, but all we know is that he will never touch her again.”

-You gave Luffy a small nod before you all decided to head to the ship for a private party, having a bath with Robin and Nami while the boys started up a barbeque.

-You ran out to Luffy, grabbing his hand, pulling him away from the fire, looking excited as Nami grinned, walking out with Ace’s DenDen Mushi, “Nami and I are gonna call Ace and grandpa!”

-You sat on Luffy’s lap while he continued to eat, not bothering you heard it ringing before you heard Ace, “Is this my most favorite little sister~?” you giggled warmly, “Hi Ace!”

-Aboard the Moby Dick, their own drinking party, because it was Wednesday, everything went quiet as most everyone huddled around Ace, hearing the voice of their adorable little sister and granddaughter.

-You and Ace talked about your most recent adventures, including where Robin was kidnapped and then you were taken too. Ace was furious, flames surrounding him as they all heard that Spandam hurt you- and Whitebeard was ready to call for an attack before Nami had to tell Ace that you took care of Spandam yourself, taking out his family jewels.

-It was silent on the other side, all their anger instantly leaving before you flinched back into Luffy’s arms, hearing the roar of laughter from the other side.

-Once Ace was able to breathe again, he spoke, “What else happened?” you beamed brightly, “I met another grandpa- his name is Garp!”

-Ace shivered deeply, recalling his own memories of Garp before he managed to force a smile, “Oh? And how was he?” you thought for a moment, “Kinda loud- and he cried when I told him that Whitebeard is my first grandpa, while he was my second.”

-Whitebeard beamed warmly, hearing that he was your first, but he couldn’t help but imagine Garp lamenting over the fact that he was the second.

-The following day, you woke up to loud shouting and you wandered out of your room, a little delirous as you wandered over, rubbing your eyes as you grabbed Zoro’s pants, “Why is everyone yelling?”

-He kneeled down, putting his hand on your head and your eyes went wide as everyone showed you their new bounties, your eyes immediately sparkling brightly.

-Robin then smiled, “Here Y/N- this one is yours.” You looked exited, taking it while Luffy was pouting lightly, seeing your 400,000,000 beri bounty while you were gawking, “So many zeros!”

-You quickly ran to put it up on your wall, showing the other bounties as well and you beamed, feeling proud of yourself.

-You then noticed Sanji looked sad when you came back out and you quickly found out why, because the marines didn’t have a good photo, so they used a crudely drawn one by Luffy instead and Sanji was upset because it didn’t look a thing like him!

-You quickly ran back to your room, coming out with your drawing materials Usopp had given you and you got to work, making a new bounty poster to make your big brother happy!

-It took you over an hour to draw, everyone who had seen you saw the focus on your face before you ran to Sanji, “I made it better!”

-You drew your own bounty poster, including ‘bounty’ being spelled wrong, and a children’s drawing in the middle, showing Sanji making food with hearts surrounding him.

-Sanji fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he held it up to the sky, overwhelmed with happiness before he cried into his elbow, thanking you warmly, making you beam before your smile grew as he put it on the fridge, “So I can see it every day!”

-You celebrated with your crew, having a big feast to celebrate the new bounties, unaware of the, literal, darkness on the horizon.

[genshinincorrectly]

Hello, I'd like to say first that I am extremely interested in all cultures, and I love to learn about everyone's culture despite skin color. The culture of Natlan is especially interesting to me, especially because of places I've been able to visit when I was young here in America. I'm very glad I know as much about certain cultures as I do because it's very interesting to relate it all to genshin. I cannot stand racism at all, but I'm going to be completely honest, I don't think what Hoyoverse is doing with Natlan is completely racist. When Sumeru came out, I was completely surprised at how dark they made some of the characters. Because of where Hoyoverse originates from, I didn't actually expect there to be that many, and I'm actually extremely grateful that they're putting as many dark characters as they are in Genshin. I think it's amazing that they're representing so many cultures as well. I think this is a huge thing for a mainly Chinese company like Hoyoverse. I don't think they're gonna make the skin colors any better, though. I am a bit upset that some of the Natlan characters are completely white, and I'm worried about what it means, but the quests haven't come out yet, so I can't say if it's good or not. I think that the skin color situation in Sumeru is acceptable because of the circumstances in the lore, and I'm hoping that Natlan is similar. Because of what Natlan is about, I think there will be multiple groups of characters, and some of them just may be lighter for the sake of separation. I also don't think the dark characters are to light. I personally think that the response people are having to this stuff is extremely selfish, especially facing a company based in the culture it's in. I wish some fictional characters were darker, but I still think Hoyoverse is doing an amazing job of representing cultures without including skin color.

i don’t think this is the place to debate whether a notoriously racist company is being racist yet again, but i’ll address all of your points in order because you seem to be well meaning enough

1. ever since the Natlan trailer, people of every single culture meant to be “represented” have been very upset. the general consensus i’ve heard is that many people are excited their culture is going to be in the game, but are upset at the portrayal. for example, i have a Hawaiian friends who loves Mualani, but is VERY upset at the amount of racism present in her character.

2. the “darker” skintones in sumeru are actually incredibly pale. for example, cyno, a character that many consider “dark skinned” has a similar skin tone to me, a white person. the darkest skin tone of the playable characters is barely even brown, and there are new enemy npcs in Natlan who are much darker than any of the playable characters.

3. the boycott is not only about skin colors. it also includes removing of racist caricatures (dori), the removing of the blackface art on a wall in zzz, and the renaming of Arlan’s skills.

4. when it comes to the skin color situation in Sumeru, i am inclined to listen to SWANASA people, who have been saying it was colorist since the beginning. there is no “lore reason” these characters should be paler, considering the real life equivalent of Sumeru is a wide range of countries, cultures, and ethnic groups.

5. calling people of color “selfish” for wanting their culture to be represented accurately in media is incorrect and racist. furthermore, skin color is a very important part of representation, especially when it comes to the cultures Natlan is supposed to be representing, as many of the people of those cultures have darker skin. again, i’ll use Mualani as an example- Hawaiians tend to have darker skin, so it would only make sense for that to carry over. if you genuinely believe wanting a variety of skin tones is selfish, i believe you should take a look at yourself and reexamine your biases.

i’d also like to point out that during the Sumeru beta, there were several npcs who had pale skin that where later changed to be darker. the same thing also happened with the chief of Mualani’s tribe (i forgot her name). also, the open ended question on surveys have been removed, and the moderation behind the Honkai Impact 3rd twitter account has been hiding replies related to the boycott. so, they know about it. i don’t believe the boycott is pointless, and i don’t think those of us who are not a part of the cultures that have been whitewashed or misrepresented have any right to ignore this. those who are impacted directly by hoyoverse’s racism have called for a boycott, so it is our duties as allies to participate.

[redfurrycat]

White Collar and Top Gun Fusion

Special Agent for the FBI in the white-collar crimes division Bradley Bradshaw once arrested white-collar criminal Jake Seresin, alias the Hangman.

The Hangman is a charming and sophisticated con artist known as such because he cockily leaves a hangman game on each crime scene (leading to his next theft). However, Agent Bradshaw cracks his hangman code which has allowed him to finally capture the elusive criminal.

(Un)fortunately, his criminal talents in counterfeiting are coveted by the white-collar crimes division. The FBI IceBoss Tom Kazansky strikes a deal with him: serving his remaining four-year sentence as an anklet-wearing consultant to the FBI. Seresin accepts the deal as long as he gets Agent Bradshaw as his handler. (What? The guy has brains and is sweet on the eye –his moustache notwithstanding–, and he likes ‘hem smart and pretty.)

Agent Bradshaw has no choice but to obey his bossdad. He’s thus now working with the infuriating, cunning, and not at all appealing criminal alongside his newly formed white-collar team –Agents Natasha Trace and Bob Floyd. The team has a particularly high solved-cases rate, mainly due to the duo très spécial working together.

FBI consultant Jake Seresin has the time of his life: he lives in a beautiful and richly decorated house with Penny Benjamin, the charming landlady; he wears her late husband’s styled suits and hats; he finds his criminal and genius best friend Javy Machado again and often asks him for help in various FBI cases…

About that…He is surprised how much he likes using his devilishly almost-too-good-to-be-true talents (‘ugh’, says Bradley, every single time) for the other side of the law. His colleagues Trace and Floyd are really nice too: he banters with Phoenix like he would his own sister, and fondly annoys Bob like he would a little brother.

He expects even less to fall for Agent Bradshaw. Bradley. The Hawaiian-shirt-wearing and by-the-book special agent appears to be a little grumpy on the outside, especially with him, but Jake is trying to shatter Bradley’s walls, and he will succeed eventually. They have numerous evening talks during which they share personal details, and pretty much bicker about every possible subject.

Jake also meets the IceBoss’ trophy wife and Bradley’s godfather, Pete (‘Call me Maverick’) Mitchell. Maverick is a mechanic and an engineer, and he does some consultant work when the FBI needs his expertise. These two become thick as thieves, as they have similar minds, and Maverick often invites Jake for dinner (Bradley whines ‘Mav, whyyyyyyyyy?!’ meanwhile Ice is questioning his husband’s –matchmaking–motives…‘Trust me IceBaby, I know what I’m doing.’)

It is Mav who convinces Jake to go for it, because his oblivious godson would never act on his feelings, he’s too cautious (‘Ah. The snug-on-his-perch type’…..‘Well, yeah, but he has his reasons.’). However, Mav is sure he likes Jake because Ice has told him Bradley often comes in his office to rant about Hangman (‘Ice, he’s yet again charming such and such, he’s unprofessional!’… Also Ice has the patience of a saint).

Thus Jake begins wooing Bradley à la Hangman: he leaves him complimentary notes disguised as hangman games on his desk, he delivers perfect art forgeries in Bradley’s effigy (paintings, sculptures, drawings,…) at his home –Bradley’s both scandalised and reluctantly charmed– and, on one memorable occasion, Bradley’s gifted a Carrara-marbled, life-sized and very much naked statue of Jake. He stays speechless for an abnormal amount of time and can’t look Jake in the eye (héhé) for some time. He’ll deny it, but Bradley keeps the statue. Of course, he keeps the statue! Finally, Jake’s last and most romantic move is to offer Bradley a piano he's personally restored! It’s the final straw for Bradley: he jumps him so hard his neighbours call the police to report *suspicious* noise.

[After their “strenuous” activities, Jake asks Bradley if he has succeeded in accomplishing his most spectacular heist.

Bradley: And what would that be?

Jake: Have I finally succeeded in stealing your heart?

Bradley: For a seductive bastard, you are ridiculously corny sometimes…but if you must know. Yeah, you did.]

Once they get their act together, Bradley feels comfortable enough to do some wooing of his own: he serenades Jake with skillful renditions of 'Smooth Criminal' on the piano as well as old romantic ballads.

[printabledesignrf]

Hawaii surf girl art

[libras-interactives]

I have two questions about the utdm gang, mostly just for fun. How would they dress in the modern age and what would their ideal day off look like?

Marius:

Dresses very well (when he can afford it...), clothes are always clean and hair always done even if his apartment is shit lol. In modern times he'd stand out bc he'd wear "old fashioned" 1920s dandy styles, or clothes "meant for women" like crop tops and cute shorts, and bright colors.

Ideal day off in both modern and 20's is going out to eat and dance with friends. You could convince him to stay in, but he'd still want to do something engaging and invite lots of people over. It's actually nice when he gets a boyfriend bc then hes out on dates all the time instead of bugging the far more introverted Jack and Eveline.

Jack:

Already has no sense of fashion lmao,,, doesnt change much in modern times. Jeans, work boots and a tanktop. Maybe a button down or flannel if he's gotta look nice. Denim overalls if he's gotta work, a baseball cap he got for free at a feed store to keep the sun outta his eyes. Owns more work clothes than "regular" clothes for sure, and knows how to mend them.

A day off where you actually got Jack to relax: walking in a nice nature reserve or forest with no people, or a friend or two. Maybe some fishin', and grilling said fish in the evening with some friends over a fire. Going to sleep actually at peace and content with himself. God bless.

Lottie:

Wears whatever's on trend at the time, albeit with her own spin. She can look good in basically anything, would def be one of those fashion insta girlies. An ideal day off would be a nice spa day followed by shopping or a night out with her best friends. They could be doing anything - restaurant, dancing, a horror movie marathon.

Eveline:

Likes thrifting (and antiqueing in general), and prefers to alter and sew her own clothes. She's very opinionated against fast fashion haha. She'd be the one buying handmade jewelry at festivals. An ideal day off would be some restful fucking sleep with no one interrupting her enjoying a quiet morning at a cafe, browsing an antique shop or little bookstore, and going home to cook something while listening to a podcast/radioshow. Marius can come over and bring his friends if they do the dishes afterward lol.

Little Lottie:

Buying clothing for LL is an Endeavor (tm) bc of her sensory sensitivities and the fact like, trying on clothes in Walmart or Old Navy would be an awful experience for her. Also, when she likes an outfit, she doesn't want to wear anything else. So when they find a favorite thing, Lottie buys like three or five of them in increasingly larger sizes so LL can still have that specific shirt or dress when she gets bigger. She'll wear her halloween costume for months if she loves it.

Little Lottie's ideal "day off" in modern is much the same as it would be in canon; she wants a warm, secure home with no sudden noises or women shouting or strange men coming and going. She'd want to have space to lay out her legos and books and stuffed animals, and not be bothered or interrupted, but not alone - she wants to look up and see Lottie or MC close by in case she needs them. And when she's done playing she wants to go to their side for a snack and juice and be read to.

(Playing outside would be fun too, but parks and zoos are overwhelming and have lots of people - so a big backyard with a sandbox would be like, perfect)

Slyvester:

Still dresses like he's in the 50's; he is not that old in the modern times, he's just stuffy and overly fastidious. At least he doesn't wear a hat and jacket all the time. Supposedly, there's photo evidence of him in a hawaiian shirt and sandals with socks in the myriads of family photo albums his wife keeps.

As for a day off - lord this man needs it - he has a list of places his wife Viviana wants to go, anywhere from museum exhibits to weird performative art installments to a tiny hole in the wall Greek place she heard about 4 years ago to the local Renfaire. In modern times it'd be much easier for her to get about with a wheelchair, so they can go out more. They're more restricted in the 1920s, but they try to make it work whenever Slyvester's off for a few days. Alas, big shocker, Flynn doesn't allow many of those.

Lightning bonus round Malwina is a normal happy teenager who likes going to ☆spooky☆ dead malls and doing tiktok dances with her friends and little sisters. Máire never left Ireland, is the reluctant mom-friend to her coworkers at the lesbian bar, and is v active in the Dublin punk & queer community. And is properly divorced LOL.

[lostfirefly]

Life Must Have It's Mysteries (Ch.2)

Nobody asked me, but the thought of sending my beloved couple on a new journey didn't let me go. Welcome to a new adventure! No idea how many chapters there will be :) Pain continues leading me to art :)

English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) Masterlist is here.

Description: Our heroes are on a quest to find the blue diamond! Hooray!

Warnings: Fun (Sanji's small appeareance is just for fun), fluff, NSFW part is included (sorry not sorry), MDNI

Words: 4000 (sorry-y-y-y again)

Buggy x OC from my “You’ve Got the Same Dream as Me” series.

Taglist: @gingernut1314 (thanks for the red-blue striped pants idea!), @operationroots, @hey-august, @rorywritesjunk

The title is taken from "Life Must Have It's Mysteries" by Hans Zimmer (OST Inferno).

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Chapter 1

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Smack. Smack. Smack.

"Geez, if I'd known you'd react like that, we'd have gone somewhere a long time ago." Buggy couldn't contain his laughter as he looked at Catherine, who was squeaking all over the living room, clenching her fists happily. 

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!!" She collapsed onto the couch, throwing her legs over it and wrapped her arms around Buggy's neck. Smack. Smack. Smack. "I’m so happy! Love!” Smack. "Love!" Smack. "Love love love you!" Smack. Smack. Smack. "Where do we start?"

"We'll start when you calm down, Cathie-pie. Repeat after me, please" He took three deep breaths.

"Okay! Okay! I'm calm!" She made a concentrated face and took one breath. Then a second. Then blurred into a smile and started squealing again.

"Oh my goodness!" Buggy grabbed his head and fell on the back of the couch. 

"Sorry!! I promise! I’m calm! So.. you told you know the guy.. Who.. Who…" She froze and began to smile again.

Buggy looked at her intently and sighed heavily. "Okay, squeal!"

Catherine attacked him with hugs and squeals again. 

"Are you finished?" 

"Yes!" Smack. 

"You sure?"

"Yes!" Smack. Smack. 

"Ok! Our first step. I'm gonna go to a restaurant in the morning. I’ll talk to a man about this thing from your sheets. In theory, he can give us directions or if there's a map or something. We need to figure out where to start."

"Can I come with you? Ple-e-ease!" Smack. 

"Are you squealing done for the day?"

"Yes!" Smack. Smack. 

"You sure?"

"Yes!" Smack. Smack. Smack. 

"If you behave well, woman, I’ll take you with me." 

"You're the best!!" Smack. Smack. Smack. 

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In the morning, Catherine made the biggest and most delicious breakfast. Poured him the biggest cup of coffee. Gave him the longest morning kiss. She miscalculated a little with that last point, as Buggy immediately wanted to forget about breakfast after that, but she fought back. Catherine sat back in her chair, watched him eat and tried to appear calm. He sighed and told her to get ready. 

They reached a small restaurant, the sign resembled a wave, the fronts were blue-green in color. 

"Water 7. Another weird name of another weird place." Catherine whispered under her breath and squeezed Buggy's hand. "Is there someone scary inside?" 

"Nah, there's a trio running this restaurant. They and one of their little buddies really piss me off sometimes. But I gotta hand it to them, this place has good scotch." 

They went into a fairly bright room. Everything inside looked like water. Drawings and paintings on the walls, chairs in the shape of waves. 

"Oh my god! Why is he in just his underwear?!" Catherine didn't expect to say it so loudly. She threw a glance at Buggy, who rolled his eyes. 

A large man in an unbuttoned shirt that resembled a Hawaiian shirt, wearing underpants and barefoot walked up to them. Instead of the usual human nose, he had a metal nose. 

"Buggy the Sneak!" Said the man in shorts. 

"Franky!" 

"What happened in your life that you came to get scotch at 8:00 in the morning?"

"Scotch later. I'm here to see you on business. Catherine, give me the papers." Catherine kept her gaze on the man in his underpants. She considered the color of his hair, his nose. 

Franky in turn considered her. "Who's that?" He pointed a finger at Catherine. 

"She's with me" Buggy took Catherine lightly behind him. 

"With you? You mean.. Dear Lord! I can't believe someone messed with you, also sleeping willingly, Honey, if you're being held hostage, tell me." 

"Hey!" Catherine shouted.

"Let's get back to our business. Have you heard anything about this?” Buggy pointed to the sheets.

"The blue diamond? Yeah, but I think it's just rumors or maybe not. No one knows exactly. What? Why are you asking?"

"Just curious." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Stop lying to me. You're one of the biggest losers in treasure hunting. And I don't believe that you are asking me about that diamond because you're "just curious."

"Hey, you! The man in the underwear! It's not your business at all. If you need money for the information, I’ll pay you." Catherine took three steps forward.

"Catherine, calm down!" Buggy put his hand on her shoulder and tried to pull her in behind him.

"No, we're here to get information. Instead, a grown man who can't spare the money to buy his own pants sits there and insults you." Catherine glanced at Franky. "How much do you want for coordinates, information, or whatever it is you have?"

"Let's go to my cabinet." Franky patted Buggy on the shoulder and gestured him into his office.

A chill ran down Catherine's back. She felt a little uneasy that because of her inability to keep quiet, Buggy might get hurt. She put her hand on his back and looked at him anxiously.

"It's all right. I'll be right back."

Franky and Buggy walked out. Catherine sat back in her chair and put her elbows on the table. "You should be silent sometimes, Catherine.." She muttered to herself.

"Oooooh! God, what a beautiful girl I have behind my counter!!!" Suddenly there was a loud squeak or squeal.

Catherine turned around and noticed a tall blond man in a suit running towards her. "Geez, who are you?"

"Pretty-swaaaan!!!! Where did you come from?"

The stranger grabbed Catherine's arm.

"Go to hell, who are you?!" She yanked her arm back.

"Sanji-san!!! And who are you, oh beautiful girl?"

"C-Catherine!"

"God, what a beautiful name, Cathie-swaaaaaan!!!"

"Don't call me Cathie! There's only one person in the world who can call me that!"

"I’m sorry, Cathie-swaaaan!!" 

"Fuck!!!" She rolled her eyes.

The strange blond man continued to circle around Catherine and tried to take her hand until he was stopped by a loud "Hey, step away from her!" She turned around and saw Franky and Buggy.

Catherine jumped up from her seat and quickly walked over to Buggy. "Save me, this blond guy is crazy!" 

"So, sorry, clown. That's all I know about the blue diamond." Franky uttered with a slight smile.

Catherine lookd upset.

"The blue diamond? I know something about it!" The blond man stopped spinning and sat down on the chair.

"Yeah! So, honey.. Tell me!" Catherine said and put her chin on her hand. 

⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭

"Forgive me, I have a habit of writing everything down. So, first.. we’re going to this city. And there we will find her?" She pointed to the notes in her notebook. "Do you feel similar vibes, my Buggy Bear?" She asked loudly from the bedroom, started rummaging through the closet. "I've almost got all the things I need!"

"Finally! The car is ready. You're late again, my cotton candy." 

"I’m not late! I needed to pack some women's things. Stop grumbling! I’m comi…" Catherine suddenly stopped talking and scanned him with her eyes. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He imitated her gaze.

"I just…" She tried to find the words. “Sneakers, Jeans. T-shirt. The black denim jacket, and your hair is in a ponytail. You look too sexy, Buggy the Clown." She took several steps towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Are you going to hook another girl?" 

"God, no, of course not. I got enough of this little shit in my life." He pointed at her nose with one hand.

"My blue-haired asshole…"

"I’m listening."

"Stop grabbing my ass!"

They drove for a couple hours in the car. Catherine practically kept her eyes on Buggy, constantly repeating that he looked sexy and hot as hell in his outfit, with his tail and driving. He was embarrassed and turning as red as his nose.

They reached a town called Little Garden, got a motel room and at Catherine's insistence went looking for the bakery Franky had mentioned.

"Onward to Arabasta." Catherine read the name of the bakery. "Do you guys get normal names around here?"

As soon as they entered the room, they immediately saw the young woman of medium height with long wavy light blue hair.

"Wow, her hair color is similar to yours. Are you two related by any chance?" Catherine whispered into Buggy's ear.

"Do you seriously think all people with blue hair are my relatives?"

Catherine shrugged.

"How can I help you?" Asked the girl behind the cash register.

"Two coffees, five raspberry jam donuts, three blueberry muffins and we're also looking for Vivi." Catherine shifted her gaze from the display case to the girl.

"Then you're in luck. It's me." Replied a rather pleasant voice and began putting the order into a bag.

"Oh, great. We're looking for information on the blue diamond. All we have so far is information about a scepter divided into three parts, hidden somewhere in the pyramids. Can you give us any clues?"

"First of all, good morning!"

"God, here we go again!!!" Catherine rolled her eyes and dropped her forehead onto the counter near the cash register.

"Cathie-pie, you're starting conversations the wrong way again." Buggy stroked Catherine's back, took her hand and led her to a table. He went back behind the cash register counter and had a very long conversation with Vivi about something. Catherine watched them with her arms crossed and an unfamiliar feeling visited her.  She thought for a second that she was jealous.

Buggy and Vivi walked over to her and sat down at the table. Catherine instinctively pulled her chair toward him.

"Anyway, he and I have had a talk. I have a condition. I'm telling you what I know..."

"Great!!!" Catherine clenched her fists joyfully.

"But!" Vivi interrupted her. "You're going to play a game of liar’s dice with me. And every time I lose, I'll tell you part of what I know."

"Fuck!!!" Catherine grabbed her head and practically flopped off her chair under the table. "Ok! I’m in!"

Vivi silently got up from the table and walked out into the back room.

"Are you sure?" Buggy whispered.

"Do we have a choice? God, why doesn't anyone ever just want to tell everything they know. First, that damsel tricked me into some caves and I almost died there. Now that girl wants to play around so she can tell me something. Maybe she's just bored and doesn't have anyone to play with? Dear God, make friends and play with them!"

"Well thanks to that girl from our previous adventure you have me now." He laughed, put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the temple.

"Yep. And now you piss me off every day, fucking clown. I hate you!" She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. 

"Cathie-pie, that's the eighth time today. You're going for the world record!" 

Vivi returned with aspiring cups and five dice. She sat down at the table and silently slid everything toward Buggy and Catherine. They looked at each other, took one of their dice and rolled it. 

"Five." Vivi said.

"Three." Buggy said.

"Four.. Fuck!" Catherine's head fell back on the table. Buggy lifted her back up.

"I'll start." Vivi spoke.

They put dice in their cup and shook them up. They flipped the cup face-down on the table to keep the dice hidden and secretly roll their dice at the same time.

"Three 3s." Vivi replied. 

Catherine peek at her own dice. "Four 3s."

"Two 4s." Buggy said calmly.

They raised their cups.

"Three 3s.." Catherine whispered. "Fuck! Next round!".

Of the six rounds, Catherine and Buggy won only 2 of them 

They shook dice under the cups again. 

"Four 6s!" Catherine said loudly.

"Five 2s." Buggy said calmly again.

"Three 2s." Vivi replied.

They raised their cups.

"Four 6s!!! Yes!!! Tell! Tell us something more!!"

Vivi smiled. "Ok. The scepter will lead you to the diamond, but they are hidden in different pyramids."

"We know that!" Catherine furrowed her brow.

"Do you want information or do you want to argue?" Vivi questioned, shaking the dice in the cup. 

"You will need a cryptex to open the place where the diamond is stored." 

"Where to find it?"

"Next round!" Vivi rolled the dice in the cup and set it on the table.

"For fuck's sake!" Catherine dropped her head back on the table. Buggy picked her up again. "Okay. Eight fives! Buggy, you got what?"

"Five threes." Buggy said calmly. He could already hear the irritation in Catherine's voice. 

"Six twos." Vivi swirled the cup around the table. 

"Liar!" Catherine shouted and lifted everyone's glasses. "Oh my god! We won!!! Now tell me more!" 

Catherine listened intently to Vivi's story and took notes on everything. 

"Well, not as much information as I would have liked, but thanks anyway! And by the way... Where's our coffee?" 

Catherine jumped out of the bakery, squealing. "Yaaaay! Well! We have some new data, copies from the books. We'll have to see if there's anything in them about the cryptex. We also have donuts and muffins!" She ran in a circle around Buggy and couldn't hide her happiness. 

"I'm tired and excited! Tired and excited!" She threw herself around his neck. "Let's go out to eat! And have a drink! And get wine for our room at the motel!"

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They got back to the room quite late.

"God, I'm tired and I wanna sleep!" Buggy practically collapsed on the bed.

"Thanks…" Catherine said quietly.

"What?"

"Thank you for supporting me in this endeavor."

"Come on, cotton candy! Two fools in pursuit of something that may not even exist!" He laughed and sat down on the bed.

"But fools are lucky…" She whispered under her breath. "Okay, I'm going to take a quick shower and get back to you. Drink your beer or whiskey or whatever you want." She tiptoed over to him and kissed his cheek. "I love you!"

Catherine came out of the shower wearing only Buggy's t-shirt and her underwear. 

"My pajamas need more time to dry completely." She walked over to the table near the TV and poured herself a glass of wine. She looked at Buggy, who was lying calmly on the bed in red and white striped underpants, leaning his back on the headboard and clicking the remote control through the channels. 

"What are you doing?" She asked quietly. Catherine took a sip of wine and took two small steps towards the bed. 

"Nothing, just looking for something interesting, but so far I've only found shitty shows. How’s the shower?" 

"Okay. I missed you there." She tilted her head and watched carefully as the dim light from the lamp on the night table fell on his face. 

He extended his hand and called her to him with his fingers. She took another sip of wine and put the glass on the table. 

Catherine took three steps forward, climbed onto the bed, sat on his lap so that his legs were between hers and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Hi!"

"Hi, my pretty girl."

She didn’t take her eyes off him for a long time, running her hands over his hair, shoulders and arms.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Should I be afraid?" He narrowed his eyes and asked in surprise. 

"Sh-h, clown!" She looked into his eyes for a moment, took the red-and-white rubber band out of his hair, then tilted her head and kissed him on the lips. Buggy instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist. Her kiss became deeper and more passionate, her breathing quickened.

She ran one hand over his chest and lowered it down to his boxers. She felt something hard between her legs. "Well, good evening, Captain Buggy!" She smiled slightly, took off her t-shirt and ran her lips along his neck.

"Fuck, cotton candy!" He placed one hand on her thigh, then moved it on her stomach and gently lowered his hand into her panties. She felt his fingers digging into the soft skin near her crotch. 

"Do it." She whispered in his ear.

"My little Cathie-pie always swears at me when I do that, and now you’re asking me to do that?" He replied sarcastically and kissed her neck.

"Shit, clown. Are you gonna chat or are you gonna do your job?" She replied and moaned slightly when she felt his fingers found his way to her clit, rubbing it vigorously. 

"Fuck…" She arched her back and head backwards, her breasts in his face. He flicked a nipple with his tongue and she sighed in pleasure. She felt him slowly move inside her, her walls sending waves of pleasure against him. She whimpered in response, her body once again arching, not knowing what to do with the arousal. He was holding her back with his free arm, amused at how quick she was to react. 

"You ok, my little pie?"

"Stop asking stupid questions, fucking clown. Just d-d-don't.. fuck.. stop, ok?" 

"That’s my girl." He smiled widely. He adored the expressions she made. And he made sure to push his digits in and out in a rhythm that resembled that of her moanings. Catherine's moans intensified when he gradually moved his fingers to get faster, more forceful. Catherine lost her breath when she felt his fingers on her special spot. "Oh god. Fuck! That's it.."

"You like that?"

"You will be the death of me, Buggy-sama!" She whispered in his lips.

"Ugh! Don't call me that, baby." 

"Fuck you. I will.. fuck..ca-all you.. yeah.. as I wa-ant..fuck." She kissed him eagerly and couldn't stop moaning through the kiss. She clutched her fingers into his back, realizing that she was almost reaching orgasm. "Fuck, shit!" She buried her head in the crock of his neck and kept silent for a moment. He felt her heavy breath on his skin.

Buggy pulled out his hand and wiped it on the towel. "Is my pie happy now?" He stroked her hair.

"Your pie is really happy. But wait, my Captain. I have news for you. We're not done yet." She kissed him on his lips, stood up and took off her and his underwear. 

She knelt on the bed and gently ran her hand over his cock. "Tell me… Buggy the Genius Jester, do you have any orders? Wishes?" She whispered, continuing running her fingers along the entire length. 

"You're playing with fire, cotton candy.” He tried to take her hand. 

"Na-ah!" She threw his hand back on the bed. "You can watch but touch.. No!" She barely pressed her lips to the head of his cock.

"Cathie-pie…?" He looked at her with a surprised look.

"I’m listening, my silly clown. Don't you like it? Don't you want it?"

"I…I just didn't…expect…" He mumbled. 

"Okay, if you don't like it.." She shrugged her shoulders and reached out for her t-shirt.

"No, no, no!! Wait! Wait! I liked it! I loved it!!"

Catherine leaned over him. "Are you gonna be a good boy?"

He silently nodded. 

"You will be silent, won't you?"

He nodded. 

"Wanna see what else I can do?" She whispered.

He nodded again. 

She kissed him on his lips, winked at him and slowly moved down, flicking her tongue over his nipples, down his belly. She wrapped his length with her fingers and touched it with her lips. She could practically feel him arch up as she slowly closed her mouth over the head of his cock, curious, wondering if he'd beg..

He tried. He really tried. He tried so hard to remain silent for the next few minutes, but he didn't do it well. She felt his hands gripping the sheets. She could hear his weak voice, accompanied by "oh, holy shit", "fuck, baby, yes", "more, please, be-e-ging you", "that's it", "i love you, my co-t- fuck c-c-a-n.. fuck". 

After she finished, Catherine raised her head and looked at him. 

"Are you still alive, my silly clown?" She stood up and sat on top of him. Buggy's gaze was clouded. 

"Wow, I’m impressed by your reaction." She laughed and kissed his neck.

"What was that? What just happened?" He asked in a slightly high voice and shook his head to regain his senses. 

She grinned and whispered in his ear, her voice a low purr.

"My little revenge on you, blue-haired brat." 

"Fuck! You're a bad bad girl, Catherine Mitchell!!"

She couldn't help but laugh. "It's all your fault, Buggy-sama." She put her hands on his shoulders and started tracing her finger over his bicep.

"I told you not to call me that. It's ve-e-ry dangerous!" He croaked in a whisper and put his hands on her shoulder blades.

"I don't give a shit, you know that perfectly." She tilted her head and ran her lips over his lips. “I have one piece of news for you. Right now I want you inside me.”

"Damn! I can't hold you back from this but don't you dare make any claims against me again." He put his hands on her waist.

"Fuck you. You bet I will." 

"Stop talking and c’mere, my little shit!" 

She kissed him again, rose a little and slowly sat on his cock, letting out a moan. 

"Fuck, you're so good!" He whispered and smashed his lips into her.

"Yes, I’m.." She smiled during the kiss and started slowly moving her hips from back and forth. Every movement made his pulse pick up, pleasure shooting through his body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He started growling and kissing any part of her he could reach. She felt him squeeze her ass and grind herself against his hips.

With every kiss from him, Catherine quickened her pace. "I want to feel you deeper." She whispered, digging her nails into his back. 

She let her knees slide apart a little further, taking him just a little further and felt how his cock filled her completely. Inside, it felt enormous, thick and tight. She started rocking her hips again, slow at first, then alternating with up and down strokes. He kissed her hungrily, sliding his tongue against hers, moaning into her mouth when her movements picked up speed. 

"You feel so right, my Cathie-pie. I just can't get enough of you." He said between kisses. 

"It’s my superpower." She said quietly, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth. 

Catherine was grinding her body against his, her hips snapping back and forth. She took his hand and squeezed it. "I’m so– close, fuck. I want us to come together."

She picked up her pace even more, breaking the kiss just to moan his name loudly, squeezing his hand more and more tightly. The ecstasy was peaking unbearably, building every time he or she moved.

"Fuck, baby, I’m close. I’m gonna c…"

He kissed her shoulder, her hips moving in short frantic thrusts against his cock. Right before he lost his mind completely Buggy looked at Catherine to see her beautiful face intent on him, and that was the last thing he could think of as he came.

Catherine pressed her whole body against him, feeling every rapid beat of his heart. She didn't let go of his hand and ran her free hand through his wet hair.

"You ok? You're breathing so hard." She asked quietly and pressed her forehead to his.

"I’m totally fine. You?"

"S'okay." She kissed him on his lips. "You’re my other half and I love you so so much my Buggy Bear. Remember that, okay?"

He gazed intently into her eyes. "You’re not just my other half, cotton candy. You're my better half."

"Wow!! My beloved blue-haired asshole said that to me! I need to be on top of you more often so that I can hear such phrases more often." She laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

"Little shit!" He stroked her forearms, then wrapped his arms around her waist and put his head under her chin. "I love you. And I promise, I’ll never hurt you."

"I know."

[perssonofsweden]

Aloha Poster, Hawaiian Wall Art, Aloha Beach, Typography as Art, Aloha Prints, Retro Poster, Text Art, Printable Posters, Beach House Poster, #MinimalismPoster #DigitalPrints #MinimalistWallArt #DigitalPrint #HomeDecor #OwnItOncePrintIt4Ever, #DownloadPrintFrame, https://perssonofsweden.etsy.com/listing/1739758352

[icarus-suraki]

Please forgive me a moment but oh my gaw... For just $1,600,000 this narco-chic house in beautiful Raleigh, NC, could be yours.

Excuse me while I get my @mcmansionhell on but oh. my gaw. There's a lot of repainting and staging in this one, but they can't hide all the beautiful, beautiful sins in this house. Personally I think the new owner should embrace this house as a lost set from Miami Vice or Scarface. Lean into the pastels, get 1980s furniture, add so many houseplants, and get your "greed is good" on.

tl;dr: this would be a great house to do cocaine in.

Also: mirrored toilet.

Knock knock! Mr. Montana? Are you in?

Built in 1988; 4 beds, 5 baths, 5360 square feet

Of course it has a lawyer foyer--kind of.

It's like a disbarred lawyer foyer. Crooked lawyer foyer.

That chandelier looks like a shower head leaking goo and I hate it.

Now we're getting into it:

The first of many, many mirrors.

The current owners have clearly repainted the whole place in "modern" colors but you can't fool us. We see that carpeted open-riser staircase that's just perfect for Michelle Pfeiffer as Elvira Hancock to saunter down before taking another bump of cocaine.

Oh here we go:

Is that... Is that...

YEAH IT IS, BITCH. THAT'S AN ETCHED MIRROR TWO-STORY FIREPLACE DEPICTING ATHENA SENDING FORTH HER OWL HOLY SHIT. And that's not the end of the mirrors and etchings in here either:

The etched glass. The columns. The weird ceiling.

It's a shame this is the only glimpse we get into the dining room because I fucking love the rando traditional chandelier in there. There are also double doors on the dining room and I believe they're etched too. I can just make out what looks like a peacock on one of them in the last fireplace photo.

Yes, they've done their best to stage this place with (slightly ironic) contemporary furniture, but it's not really proving that this house is anything besides a great place to do cocaine.

AHOY MATEY! Love the giant gold vase + bonus faded an art.

Yes, welcome to my home. Please stand under the tube of slime. (Seriously: paint that thing and make the glass green and it's 100% Nickelodeon.)

Love how the wall of the Disbarred Lawyer Foyer interrupts the weirdly traditional wrought iron bannisters. Seriously, wut?

Bedroom photos:

MORE MIRRORS FUCK YES. Honestly I do love the 1980s-does-art-deco fireplace. I could make it PoMo. Why did they un-80s this place? I weep.

What's that? You want EVEN MORE MIRRORS???

You could snort cocaine off almost ever surface in this house. Also I love the door for your bathroom elf there by the tub. He brings you more toilet paper when you run out.

Blah blah blah, there's also a sauna, don't care. MOVING ON: the mystery of the portholes is solved!

Awww, Tony Montana has a sewing room. He mends his own Hawaiian shirts.

Blah blah blah, STILL MORE MIRRORS in another one of the bedrooms...

I didn't mention the pool, did I? Well, there's a pool:

The back: another view of the pool in its concrete hellscape and the yard where you can keep your pet tiger.

But I've saved the best for last: the downstairs bathroom. Based on the reflection in the mirrors (plural, yes), I think this room is just behind the kitchen/bar, behind the wooden door. It's basically under the portholes.

Are you ready? Are you sure? Get your spoons and your straws ready because...

You can snort cocaine off any surface in this room.

The walls, the ceilings, the countertop, the toilet lid, anywhere. Imagine being drunk as hell and trying to use this bathroom. Imagine tripping balls and trying to use this bathroom.

I am speechless.

So thanks for stopping by on this tour of an Escobar-approved narco chic classic in beautiful Raleigh. Bye!!

[onewithsharks]

Living Room: He designed the living room to be stylish. This was one of the spaces he designed to honor his father so there was a piece of art made out of metal on the wall above the sofa in the shape of a shark. The sofa was red with 2 blue/green cushions and 2 other red ones while the walls were the same color as the 2 blue/green cushions. There was a coffee table made of glass in the middle that was always adorned with flowers in a vase in the center, sometimes a book also occupied the space.

Dining Room: The dining room was colored navy blue with white drawn sharks on the top of the walls. There was also a sculpture of a shark above the stove area. There was a round table with several chairs on it for several guests. The kitchen was honestly the biggest part of the place and it was well done too because Mano loved cooking.

Bathroom: The toilet is on a step behind the bathtub, and the shower is against the wall by the bathtub, but right in front of the bathtub there is a path to a small garden that Mano maintains with Hawaiian plants to remember home by.

Bedroom: The bedroom looks a little small with the whole bed in the center, being a king bed and all, but there is a huge slide door by its side and some plants around it together with some lamps. There is an ottoman by the end of the bed with a fluffy blanket on it too. There's a dresser not far away from the ottoman, right in front of it, and it has some books on top of it.

[abirpothi]

Top 11 Castles in the United States

Exploring the United States reveals a surprising array of castles, each with its own unique charm and history. Whether nestled in scenic landscapes or standing proudly in bustling cities, these castles captivate visitors with their architectural grandeur and storied pasts. Here are the top 11 castles in the US that are a must-see for any castle enthusiast:

1. Biltmore Estate

Located in Asheville, North Carolina, the Biltmore Estate is America’s largest privately-owned home. Built by George Washington Vanderbilt II, this grand chateau features stunning architecture, expansive gardens, and a winery.

Biltmore Estate | Courtesy: Wikipedia

2. Hearst Castle

Perched atop a hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean in San Simeon, California, Hearst Castle is a masterpiece of opulence. Built by newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst, it boasts lavish interiors, impressive art collections, and panoramic views.

Hearst Castle| Courtesy: Wikipedia

3. Castello Di Amorosa

Napa Valley’s Castello Di Amorosa transports visitors to medieval Tuscany. This authentically styled castle features a winery within its walls, offering tours and tastings amidst its impressive architecture and scenic vineyards.

Castello di Amorosa| Courtesy: Tripadvisor

4. Cinderella Castle

An icon of fantasy and magic, Cinderella Castle is the centerpiece of Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom in Orlando, Florida. This fairy tale castle is beloved by visitors of all ages for its enchanting design and role in Disney storytelling.

Cinderella Castle| Courtesy: Tripadvisor

5. The Breakers

Located in Newport, Rhode Island, The Breakers is a symbol of the Gilded Age’s extravagance. This Vanderbilt mansion dazzles with its Italian Renaissance-inspired architecture, luxurious interiors, and oceanfront location.

The Breakers| Courtesy: Wikipedia

6. Iolani Palace

Situated in Honolulu, Hawaii, Iolani Palace is the only royal palace in the United States. Built in the 19th century, it served as the official residence of the Hawaiian monarchy and now stands as a National Historic Landmark.

Iolani Palace| Courtesy: Wikipedia

7. Montezuma Castle

In Camp Verde, Arizona, Montezuma Castle showcases remarkable ancient cliff dwellings. Built by the Sinagua people over 600 years ago, this well-preserved structure offers insights into Native American history and architecture.

Montezuma Castle National Monument| Courtesy: Wikipedia

8. Boldt Castle

Located on Heart Island in the Thousand Islands of New York, Boldt Castle is a testament to a tragic love story. Built by George C. Boldt as a tribute to his wife, this castle features romantic gardens, intricate stone masonry, and a captivating narrative.

Boldt Castle| Courtesy: Wikipedia

9. Bishop Castle

A remarkable feat of one man’s vision and determination, Bishop Castle in Colorado is a unique and evolving creation. Hand-built by Jim Bishop over several decades, this castle continues to grow in size and complexity, showcasing whimsical architecture and breathtaking views.

Bishop Castle| Courtesy: Wikipedia

10. Lyndhurst Mansion

Set amidst Tarrytown, New York’s picturesque landscape, Lyndhurst Mansion is a Gothic Revival masterpiece. Designed by Alexander Jackson Davis, it boasts elaborate interiors, scenic grounds, and a rich history dating back to the Gilded Age.

Lyndhurst (mansion) – Courtesy: Wikipedia

11. Bannerman Castle

Located on Pollepel Island along the Hudson River in New York, Bannerman Castle is a striking ruin-turned-tourist attraction. Built by Francis Bannerman VI as a private arsenal, it now offers guided tours showcasing its mysterious past and stunning riverside views.

Bannerman Castle | Courtesy: The New York Times

These 11 castles represent a diverse culture of American history, architecture, and culture. Each offers a unique glimpse into different eras and styles, from medieval-inspired wineries to grand Gilded Age mansions and even a fairy tale castle straight out of Disney. Whether you’re drawn to the opulence of Hearst Castle or the rugged charm of Bishop Castle, these destinations promise unforgettable experiences for castle enthusiasts and history buffs alike. Plan your visits to these remarkable sites and immerse yourself in the enchanting world of American castles.

[pidgefudge]

my gender is colorful translucent GBAs and cicada wings and stretchy red jackets that are older than i am and pokemon pixel art sprites and bird calls and shitty doodles on the corners of assignments and paint stains and the wii sports resort theme and tiny bugs exploring my desk and stickers and hawaiian shirts with graphic tees underneath and cats and home - we're finally landing and old show posters hanging on the wall and black sneakers with cool laces and troubleshooting homebrew issues and the super mario 64 soundfont

[arthurmorganshorsey]

Big Sweet Vampire Lady OC x Hurt Gender Neutral human reader with mommy issues

You got into a fight with your mother, and you ran away from home. You run into this seemingly abandoned old home to find this beautiful vampire woman, and she has worked out a deal for you..

if only there was a tall, beautiful vampire lady for this sad lil nonbinary to cry on ):

this is on my ao3 too btw

It was a cold winter night.

"I can't believe you'd say that to your own goddamn mother." My mother spoke with her eyes widened with rage. It was time for me to pack my bags and find somewhere else to go. Where to? No fucking clue.

"I did because you treat me like shit and I'm fucking tired of it!"

I ran up to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I quickly gathered all of my belongings into every bag I could find in my room. I only had about four hundred dollars right now. Not exactly survival money, but I needed to get the hell out. I quickly stuffed all my clothes into the drawstring bag I'd gotten on a trip, I didn't care how shitty this packing was. I heard my door open slowly behind me, my mother looking more distraught. She had tears going down her cheeks. The same sobby routine she'd give me after every argument.

"You know.. I love you, right?" Her voice was low, her eyes staring directly at me. I ignored her. She did this every fucking time we argued. She would make me feel guilty and forget about what she'd done. Not this time. I emotionlessly shoved all of my shit into bags. Not revealing anything to her. Not revealing how much this hurt me too.

I picked up the five bags I had packed and shoved my wallet into my front pocket.

I sprinted out of that door with zero hesitation, going past my mother. I made my way down the stairs with my heart pounding, my arms filled with bags and a backpack on my back.

I made it out of that door.

I was outside. In the middle of a remote and rural New England town. All by myself. With four-hundred dollars to my name. I sprinted out into the forest. My best bet was to make some campfire somewhere and first assess my situation. Then I'd make it a trip to start running to the nearest hotel.

As I ran mindlessly through the forest, making sure not to trip over any branches or roots, I noticed some strange little light in the distance.

I followed that light. What in the hell was out here?

As I approached closer, rain started to pick up.

Oh shit. I had on a pair of shorts, a tank top, and a hawaiian shirt. This wouldn't really protect me.

Then like a miracle, the light was actually the moonlight shining off the window of an old mansion. It looked very worn down, all of the plants and trees overgrown around it.

Could it be.. abandoned? I hoped so. Running to the front of the mysterious Victorian style mansion, the door was huge, over ten feet high at least. This place was massive. Everything about it.

The right side door had a rusty knocker, I took told of it and gave it and gave it a couple hits onto the door.

No response.

Another two knocks. I stood there impatiently.

No response.

I took noticed of the windows boarded up on either side of the first floor of the home.

It must be abandoned.

Sure enough as I took hold of the doorknob shakily, it was unlocked. As I pushed in the door to enter, it creaked loud enough to hurt my ears.

Definitely not seeming like the start of a horror movie right now...

I stepped into the old home, taking in my surroundings. The inside was much more beautiful than the outside. There was fine furniture and art everywhere. The sofa was red and elegant just in the hallway. I took a few more steps inside to find another door. Opening it, I find an even more elegant living room. Rustic wooden walls, and dark brown carpeted floors.

I stepped inside and took off my shoes, letting my tired feet sink into the soft carpet. I sighed and threw myself onto the couch face first, tears started to stream down my cheeks as I recounted what had happened in the past hour. I was all alone, nearly broke, and without a place to call home. As I curled into a ball and sobbed, I heard some noises coming from the next room over that I had to explore.

"I smell human." A deep female voice spoke, an underlying aggressive tone to it. The door was opened to the room on the right, her eyes directly meeting mine. Her eyes were cold and red, her face pale as the snow.

Oh shit. Her eyes looked me up and down, me standing up immediately, ready to run for my life if needed. There was something off about her, yet her beauty was haunting. She was over six and a half feet tall, her eyes sharp as daggers, and her black long hair protruded to the right side. She dressed in a black puffy collared blazer and suit pants.

"I-I'm sorry..." Was all I could muster out, freezing up at the sight of the large woman who stood over a foot taller than I.

"A human... That doesn't seem like they're here for my head? I mostly hunters or thieves. Trying to steal my most precious treasures. But your heart pounds and I can see it in your eyes, you have no bad intentions darling." Her voice was like honey, but deeper than what is expected. I had no idea how the hell she could hear my heartbeat. I didn't want any confrontation with her though.

"I-I thought this home was abandoned.." I answered truthfully, looking up into her haunting golden eyes. The woman let out a dark chuckle and stepped closer to me.

"Oh dear no. I live here and have lived here for centuries." She stared deeply at me, looking me up and down. My eyes were still watery from my crying earlier.

"Are.. you okay?" Her demeanor changed from mischevious to worried within a moment.

That's what got me. When anyone asked if I was okay when I clearly wasn't.

The tears came down more, standing there with my body trembling. She stared at me with full concern. I was still frightened of her. I couldn't stop crying, it all flowed out. I ran towards the door in shame, and slight fear as there was definitely something peculiar about this woman.

Her large, yet feminine hand planted onto the door above me as I tried to open it. She stared down at me with care and slowness, like she was approaching a small timid animal.

"Are you all alone? Is this all of your belongings?" She would point to all of my things being around the couch. I nodded anxiously.

"You poor little thing... I won't let you go out there alone. That is both a promise and an order. You're not safe."

She slowly let go of the door, wrapping an arm swiftly around my waist instead, pulling me towards her. Now I could really see how tall she was, my head barely at her chest level, it made for an awkward half embrace, but it was actually kind of comfortable. I continued to sob into her chest uncontrollably, not resisting her advance anymore, unable to. She had a death grip on my waist, leaving me no choice but to wrap my arms around her and cry. I didn't even know her name.

"It's going to be okay, young human.. Let's go over to the couch and I'll make some tea for you, does that sound nice?" Her hand caressed and stroked my hair gently.

"Y-yes.." I mumbled between sobs. She would take me by my waist and guide me over to the couch, me immediately collapsing into a fetal position and sobbing.

"What's your name, sweetie?" She held her gaze on me.

"(y/n)..." I sniffled and curled into a little ball, hugging my knees.

"My name is Eliza Dunn.." Her smile was warm, her teeth whiter and shinier than ever thought possible. She stepped into the kitchen for a moment to boil the kettle, then she came and sat back down next to me, staring at me for just a bit too long as I cried.

"How do you find comfort? Would you enjoy if I held you, dear?" The beautiful woman spoke words sweet as honey as she watched me cry.

I nodded silently. All I'd wanted was to be held.. She moved closer to me, pointing to her lap.

"You're very welcome to rest yourself here. I don't mind." Her deep and mature voice said, bringing me so much comfort I don't know I'd needed.

I plopped myself right onto her lap, my head reaching just her chest, my head between her large breasts. Her arms constricted tight around me, making me feel secure and safe.

"Shh... It's gonna be okay. Let it all out my dear." Her deep and beautiful voice spoke into my ear. I curled up into more of a fetal position, my head resting on her shoulder. I felt like a protected child in her strong yet gentle arms. She was cold. But the cold always comforted me.

Just as I was getting cozy, the tea kettle squeaked. She gently lifted me off of her lap back next to her as she got up and stopped the stove. Then she grabbed an antique little teacup and dish, putting in the teabag and pouring the water. She swiftly moved over and placed the tea bect to me.

"Thank you.." I looked up at her with so much gratitude. Her smile was so warm as she sat back down next to me, immediately taking me by the waist and throwing me onto her lap once again. The suddenness made me flinch at first, but I found so much comfort in her touch. She stroked my hair gently, basicslly petting me.

"So would you like to tell me what happened love?" Her gaze showed genuine concern. I shut my eyes and began explaining as I tried to keep myself grounded with her touch.

"So my mother and I got into a huge fight, I had to get up and leave. I can't go back there. She's just lost it." I explained in a quiet voice, trying to keep the tears from coming down.

"Oh honey... It's okay." Her face buried itself into the crook of my neck, her breath on it making me shiver. I could hear her inhaling there and then pulling herself back.

Her arms were tight around me, pinning mine to my sides. It felt good. I felt secure.

"I-I just don't know what to do..." My voice broke as I knuzzled her with my head and sniffled.

"Ohhh poor dear. I've thought of something." She removed one of her arms from around me and brought a cold, black gloved hand to my chin, tilting me up to face her.

"I'll let you stay with me darling. Free of charge. Except for one thing I'd ask of you."

Her hand sensually traveled down my chin and neck to reach the artery of my neck, placing her fingers there.

Oh, yeah.

I'd forgotten all of the obvious signs.

She was a creature of the night.

"Oh..." I sat there in shock for a moment.

She wanted my blood. I mean, it was better than paying rent. I couldn't afford any rent right now.

"Like.. how many times a week?" I stared up at her, noticing her gaze linger far too long on my neck.

"Oh don't even worry about that. I'll wait for you to replenish between every feeding. I can promise you that. I don't want a fainting sickly human in my care." Eliza gently pushed the hair behind my neck, examining it.

"T-then I'm in.." I was obviously a bit anxious and hesitant. It was better than dropping two-thousand a month on rent. She would smile and her lips came dangerously close to the base of my throat, hovering over.

"Don't be nervous, dear. It's not too painful. Mmm... You smell the best out of anyone I've encountered in the past century. I wonder why..." Her tongue went across my neck, making me weak in the knees.

"Are you hungry now?" I asked her a bit anxiously. My hand squeezed the couch I sat on in fear. She would hum and move her face away from my neck.

"Soon I will be. But first, I'd like to get you adjusted and comfortable here. It's not fair to ask that of you after what you've went through." Her cool arms wrapped around me, squeezing tightly. It felt so nice to be squeezed and held tightly. I felt secure. Like nothing could get me in her strong arms. I snuggled up to her without question, despite only knowing her for barely an hour. Her eyebrows raised as she watched me wrap my arms and legs around her torso, clinging like a koala to a tree branch.

"You're awfully comfortable already, sweetie. Surprising from such a timid little human." Her hands rubbed my back and she chuckled.

My cheeks flushed red and I took my arms back from behind her. She huffed and grabbed my hands, placing them back around her.

"No need to be embarrassed. You're in desperate need for hugs. I intend to provide them." She squeezed and squeezed, slightly constricting my breath for a moment, then she loosened her grip.

"T-thank you Miss.." I was in shock by her kindness. Getting the kindness I'd been refused my whole life.

"Of course." She smiled warmly and took hold of my cheek, her hand cold against my face. The cold touch of her ivory skin made me relax. My eyes were beginning to struggle to keep themselves open. I couldn't stop myself from sleeping on this beautiful stranger.

"Rest, dear. I won't leave you."