#I don't wear pink often

[rabbitcruiser]

International Day of Pink

This day uses the color pink to raise awareness and fight against bullying, discrimination, homophobia, transphobia, and transmisogyny across the world.

The International Day of Pink is set up as an International Day against bullying, discrimination, homophobia, transphobia, and transmisogyny in cities and towns all across the world. On this day, everyone is invited to celebrate diversity by wearing a pink shirt and by organizing activities in their workplaces, schools, and communities in support of the day.

History of the International Day of Pink

The International Day of Pink was started in Nova Scotia, Canada, when two straight high school students saw a gay student being bullied because he was wearing a pink shirt. The two students intervened at the moment, but they also wanted to do more to prevent homophobic and transphobic bullying in their school.

In a stroke of creative genius, these two young men decided to purchase pink shirts and wear them. Not only that, but a few days later they also got almost everyone else at their school to arrive wearing pink, standing in solidarity for anti-bullying. The result was that an entire school took a stand and began working together to prevent bullying of any type, particularly related to homophobia and transphobia.

The International Day of Pink campaign has continued to grow. It is now an international anti-bullying campaign that thrives in schools, workplaces, and communities. The International Day of Pink and the conversations, awareness, and acceptance that stem from it are making a real difference in the lives of queer and trans youth. So this is just the day to wear pink, spark some conversations, and inspire acceptance.

Get ready to celebrate International Day of Pink!

International Day of Pink Timeline

1969

Stonewall Riots take place 

A riot at the Stonewall Inn in New York City becomes a turning point in the movement for gay rights in the United States.

1970

First Gay Pride March in New York 

In honor of the anniversary of the Stonewall Riots the previous year, the first Gay Pride March in New York History takes place on June 28.

1977

Harvey Milk makes history 

As the first openly gay elected official in California, Harvey Milk is elected to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors.

2007

First International Day of Pink is observed 

Students David Shepherd and Travis Price see a student being bullied for wearing a pink t-shirt in Nova Scotia, Canada. So they get their fellow students to all wear pink shirts the next day.

2020

LGBTQ Rights are protected for employees

The US Supreme Court makes an historic decision in ruling that the 1964 Civil Rights Act protects the rights of gay, lesbian and transgender employees from discrimination based on sex.

How to Celebrate International Day of Pink

You can enjoy observing and celebrating International Day of Pink in a variety of ways, including ideas like these:

Wear a Pink Shirt for the Day

Wearing a pink shirt means more than just a one-day thing, of course! Because it stands as a commitment to allyship that spans the rest of the year through. It’s true that wearing a pink shirt on April 11th is an important first step, though. It shows that people stand together with those who have been bullied, especially with those who have been bullied or harassed in school for their sexual orientation or gender identity.

Get Educated About Bullying

One of the best ways to be supportive of International Day of Pink is to get educated about what bullying is, how to prevent it or what to do if it does happen. Some valuable information can be gained through the Stop Bullying website.

Attend an International Day of Pink Event

Those who are interested in celebrating the International Day of Pink may want to consider joining in with a community event in honor of the day. In fact, many events will be happening all weekend or even all week long in some communities, not just on the day!

Different events to participate in might include flash mobs, comedy shows, fundraisers, educational lectures and fun runs and so much more! Other resources available on the Day of Pink website include pins, buttons and much more.

Get an International Day of Pink Tool Kit

If you want to host an event or show your support for International Day of Pink, you can visit the official Day of Pink website (in English or French) to get access to a toolkit that will help you connect. T-shirts can be ordered from the site. Plus, get virtual stickers and GIFS to add to social media content, as well as supportive backgrounds that can be used for video calls. And the printable posters are absolutely adorable as well!

Make an Anti-Bullying Donation

One great way to make a difference in the International Day of Pink cause is to make a donation to charities that help provide support to the anti-bullying cause. Here are some important anti-bullying charities that might be able to use some support:

STOMP Out Bullying. The leading anti-bullying non-profit organization in the United States, it’s dedicated to making a culture change among kids and teens.

The Trevor Project. Offering counseling help to teens who identify as LGBTQ in the US.

Kind Campaign. This non profit organization, along with documentaries, started in 2009 when college students wanted to help others who were bullied.

Become an Ally for Anti-Bullying

Many people don’t think of the fact that the word ally is not only a noun, but it is also a verb. To ally oneself with someone is to be listening and learning about how to care and support people from different backgrounds or places. It is essential to work year-round to stand up not just for others, but with them.

It is only with this year-round commitment that the human race can make real progress towards eliminating bullying and discrimination in all communities. For instance, if you see someone in your community being bullied, whether that’s the schoolyard or the office, it’s time to step up and say something.

Only by being active and continuing the discussion about bullying can anyone hope to put an end to this harmful practice and help make the world a safer place for everyone in it.

International Day of Pink FAQs

What is International Day of Pink?

International Day of Pink is a day when people wear pink shirts to represent support for anti-bullying efforts in schools.

When is International Day of Pink?

International Day of Pink is observed each year on second Wednesday in April.

What is the International Day of Pink history?

This day started in 2007 when two boys in Canada observed another boy being bullied for wearing a pink shirt, so they organized a campaign for the whole school to wear pink shirts the next day.

What is the purpose of Pink Shirt Day?

Sometimes International Day of Pink is also referred to as Pink Shirt Day and its purpose is related to anti-bullying in schools.

What are International Day of Pink activities?

Each year the activities for Day of Pink change, however people usually wear pink shirts, listen to lectures, participate in anti-bullying activities and attend events in support of LGBTQ.

Source

[esprei]

a pop star and his plush 🕸⚡️💛

(oh the irony of a giant joltik plush)

[ohplasticheart]

@wintercrash tagged me (thank u bby <3) for this picrew thingy and ITS SO CUTE 🩷

honestly idk who did this already/or if you've already been tagged (if that's the case just ignore me)

im tagging (no pressure of course <3): @chef-falloutboyardee @spirallingstarcases @the-carpal-tunnel-of-gingers @nostalgicfordisasters @irresponsiblereader + if you see this and you want to do it you can just say i tagged you (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

[bookwyrminspiration]

Greetings! Disjointed thoughts again: 1) There's going to be keeper graphic novel? That's so cool! 2) Your "nonsie" nicknames are really cute, and remind me of the "anonymous animal" thing on google docs ;) 3) I haven't listened to many of those musicals, so I'll give them a listen (hopefully)! I like a bunch of musicals but my comfort musical is Be More Chill. Also, I'd love to hear about your movie thoughts! I hope you're enjoying your day! - Amethyst

OKAY! Skipping over all that to get right to the movie thing because I simply must speak of it. The movies I was referring to were RRR and Baahubali 1 and 2 (3 isn't out yet). Each one is like 3 hours long ish but they're SO good. Such delightful cinema. They're incredibly dramatic (at least by my standards, which are unfortunately american), and some parts are incredibly unrealistic but takes itself so seriously and it's so entertaining. Not in like, this is a shitty movie that embraces that like velocipastor, but like it's a really well funded and produced movie that knows sometimes realism is a detriment to enjoyment so it throws it out.

It's been a while since i watched Baahubali so I couldn't really tell you the plot (I know I had a lot of fun with it though), but I can tell you RRR is about Indian revolution against british colonies. That. is such an understatement. It's also about these two men who are best friends but also enemies (but don't know they're enemies) overcoming that difference to unite and fuck over england. I don't want to spoil anything but it's SO good and has so much more going on than I can cover. Absolutely worth the 3 hours. There's also a full dance scene in there. And it's also nominated for an oscar for the dance scene song :)

If you don't have 6 hours to watch the baahubali's (skimmed the plot to refresh my memory, I think it's about a sibling rivalry for a kingdom but one of the two didn't know they were an heir, but is also insanely powerful and Good and Things), please find 3 hours to watch RRR you will not regret it it's so so good. I have been to the cinema once in the past three years and it was for this movie and I'd do it again.

Alright back to the rest of this ask. 1) yeah!! very exciting! this doesn't really do anything for me personally because I. am not really into graphic novels or visual media (I can't really picture things in my head), but it does give me something else keeper to add to my collection! 2) thank you! it's kinda become second nature at this point as just a thing that I do, but every so often I remember "huh, I deliberately chose to come up and use that". I didn't want to use the typical "nonnie/nonny" i'd seen, so I switched it up a little and now it's just part of my blog. And also part of some other people's blogs I think, sometimes I see other people say it.

3) Oh i've listened to Be More Chill! I haven't in a while, I must admit, but I listened to the typical new age musicals--Be More Chill, Dear Evan Hanson, Hamilton, Heathers. Oh! Speaking of Heathers, my favorite song from that musical is "I Say No", which isn't even on the main track; it's an addition to the world tour or something along those lines. But when I learned that I was so excited, like woah! There's this bomb song that just isn't on the main track??? WHY isn't it everywhere it's so good!

and thank you, I'm having a pretty good day! played some games (only today learned about the charms in omori), embroidered (ish) a little bunny on my shorts, didn't have to do any homework, stimmed to some songs, etc. Might bake something (apple muffins), unknown yet. I hope you're doing well and having a good whatever time it is where you are!

[tatertotpotdish]

"If it's safe enough for a baby's vagina, I can use it on my eye balls."

[tkbrokkoli]

:v

[simstoyourdismay]

i am held captive by the ribbon round my neck each course i chart determined by a wreck the power in my hips is useless in the dark what good are red lips when you're faced with something sharp?

[teaboot]

One of the best parts about working at a sex shop is the employee discount, and yeah that means excellent deals on sex supplies but that's not the big brain part.

You come to my house. Something is cooking in the kitchen- it smells wonderful. What is it? It's novelty dick-shaped pasta. I've set up a sensual sexy Italian dinner. There are candles set up on the table. They're melting too fast, dripping everywhere- they're low temp waxplay pillar candles. For dessert, I serve you a delicious ice cream topped in penis-shaped rainbow confetti sprinkles and strawberry body paint drizzle, and afterwards, serve coffee with roasted hazelnut warming lube.

We play a board game while we drink. It's sexy monopoly. It's your turn. You roll the dice. They come up as 'whisper into' and 'butt'. I lost the original dice. We're using the sexy dice. You move four spaces.

After dinner, I run you a bath. A bubble bath. The bubble gel? Sensual ocean breeze. There are candles lined up around the tub. The scent is overpowering. Why? They're three-in-one fruit flavored massage oil candles. I'm using so much. It's so wasteful. Do you want to shave? I have conditioning shave cream that smells like limes. And an electric body razor, but you can't use that in the tub.

How about a bath bomb? You toss one in. It's cherry blossom scented. As it dissolves, three sexy bath sex suggestion cards fall out. They're all variations on doggy style, probably because fucking in a bathtub is probably the easiest way to break your hip.

The water cools. You get out an dry off with a novelty towel. If you wrap it around your chest, it looks like you have gigantic tatas bursting through the fabric like the Hulk.

You walk into the bedroom. I'm there, reading an instructional book titled "The Housewife's Guide To Every Day Stripping". I'm wearing a neck pillow designed to look like a massive curved weiner. Also a pair of fake leather bondage leggings and an oversized men's christmas T-shirt that says "Jingle My Bells" across the front.

I see you come in. I put down the book, take off the pillow. Offer you a massage. You accept. I already burned up all the massage candles so I pop a new bottle of CBD massage oil that says something wrong about Chakras on it. It's very gritty. That's because there's little chunks of amethyst in it for some fucking reason. It's fine, though. You say you don't mind.

I don't do massages very often. It's bad. You end up more tense than before. One of your muscles starts to cramp- it's okay. I whip out a bottle of Lidocane topical masculine performance numbing spray. You immediately feel like your shoulder went to the dentist. It's not ideal, but it's better than cramping.

You're not in the mood to bone after that. Which is good, cause I'm actually pretty asexual, but it hasn't come up yet so I'm relieved to avoid the conversation. Instead we get ready for bed. (The weather is terrible, and I insist you stay over.) I set up the futon, then realize it smells like cigarettes from the previous owner and shyly ask if you wanna cuddle in my room. You're down.

I crawl under the covers, placing my penis-shaped pink glitter pride bottle on the side table in case one of us wakes up thirsty. Once you're settled in, I turn off the glowing bare ass night light and the room goes black.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you look up at the ceiling. It's dotted all over with little green flourescent lights. Are they plastic stars? No. I've pinned up a thousand glow in the dark condoms. God bless

[zephyrchama]

[Thoughts about an MC who gets periods]

Getting periods in the Devildom must be pretty rough. Demons probably don’t get them, and the number of humans freely wandering around has to be incredibly low. If MC takes the form of a sheep then they likely don't have to deal with it immediately, but eventually that's going to wear off and they'll revert back to a human. Does the Devildom even have pads and tampons for sale?

MC might have to sheepishly ask Barbatos if he can acquire some in bulk from the human world. Barbatos would remain professional as always when inquiring about the use of these products and their role in daily life. He'd have to report it to the prince. They're both aware of what periods are, but only in a vague "oh yeah, humans do that" kind of way. (Perhaps in the future, Lucifer could use his secret Akuzon account to order more?)

There's surely some plant or potion that prevents them, but they're not meant for long term use. Probably tastes nasty over time and covers human skin in a weird oozing rash if consumed too often.

A month or two into the exchange program, MC might have to call up Solomon for aid.

---

“Can you help me with something?”

Solomon, not too interested in MC yet, agrees just to be amicable with his fellow human exchange student. They must be scared! They must be missing humans! “Is something on your mind?”

“You know how to do magic, right?”

What a silly question. It’s almost refreshing to hear. “I do.”

“Do you know… like, uh, smell…? Reducing magic? Something to cover up smells? Without being obvious, I mean. I feel like I stink and I was really hoping you could help me figure something out.”

How cute, he thinks. He can’t quite remember the time when he smelled fully human anymore, and he can’t really smell the distinct odor on people that demons can, but he knows demons can easily sniff out a human from afar. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It should go away on its own as you spend time here.”

MC isn’t convinced. “I don’t think it will…”

“Trust me. How are you finding Devildom cuisine? I know you’re not used to it, but eating more will help you adjust. I can whip up a few simpler dishes for you to try if you need help.”

MC is silent for a bit. Solomon thinks his job is done until they say quietly, “that’s not the problem.”

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure the brothers I live with can smell, uh, my cycle.” No use being coy about it, better get straight to the point. “They stare at me when I’m on my period. I think - no, I know - they can smell the blood. I’ve seen them sniff the air when I’m around. It's weird. And I can’t exactly stop it from happening every month.”

“Oh.” Now it’s Solomon’s turn to be quiet. He’s embarrassed and surprised, a little humbled, and also really interested in this problem. It’s not something he’s ever thought about before.

MC continues, “I think they can tell when I’m ovulating too, Asmo started lingering around more often, and Lucifer looked scarier than usual, and they all stare more, and-”

“I think I get it.” Solomon can’t stop his face from turning pink. Despite his usual grin, he doesn't think he’s ready to listen to the rest of MC’s sentence.

There should be an easy solution, but it’s something that warrants testing if MC doesn’t want the brothers noticing a sudden spell cast upon them. It could get mistaken for something malicious. Solomon says, “I might be able to help. Can you come over today?”

[rabbitcruiser]

National Pink Day

Some may say that pink is for girls and blue is for boys, but both the history of the color pink and how it is perceived today are much more complex and varied than that. Pink, which is celebrated today, is a pale color that falls somewhere between red and bluish-red, usually somewhere between red and magenta. Some shades, like the color salmon, are even orangish. The color was referenced in literature in ancient times, but its name dates to the seventeenth century when it was named for a flower that has the name.

The perception of pink in society has changed over the years. It has long been associated with femininity, and at times has been considered kitsch, erotic, sophisticated, or transgressive. It has also been associated with sweetness, tenderness, charm, sensitivity, childhood, and romance. When paired with white it has signified chastity and innocence, and when coupled with black it has conveyed eroticism and seduction.

During the Middle Ages, pink was used primarily in women’s fashion and in religious art, while during the Renaissance, it was used mainly for flesh color in paintings. Its rise in popularity in the West took place in the mid-eighteenth century. During that time, men and women wore faint, powdery pieces of pink clothing as a status symbol of luxury and class. Both male and female infants and children were dressed in the color—it was often more associated with males because it was seen as a lighter shade of red, which was a color viewed as masculine. Boys continued to wear pink well into the nineteenth century, including pink ribbons and decorations. Eighteenth-century paintings gave contrasting meanings of pink. Some depicted the color as being associated with childhood, innocence, or tenderness, while others showed it as a color of seduction.

In the mid-nineteenth century, pink shifted away from masculinity and was viewed as being delicate. One reason for this was that men started wearing darker colors, and women consequently began wearing and being associated with brighter, pastel colors. Eroticism began being associated with pink during this century as well because the color had a quality similar to nakedness. Lingerie began appearing in pink, and art and literature began referencing the color’s sexual quality, particularly the color’s relation to the female body.

The color had long been related to the higher classes of society, but during the twentieth century, there was a status shift that moved it from luxury to the working-class. This was on account of the proliferation of cheap dyes that allowed the creation of garish takes on the color. The hues became brighter and bolder, and the dyes didn’t easily fade. It was at this time pink entered what is viewed as the vulgar, being associated with prostitutes. But the connotation of luxury was not fully removed from the color. For example, during the first decades of the century, Paul Poiret, a French couturier, made exquisite dresses in shades of pink.

In the 1950s, the color became strongly associated with femininity, largely on account of Postwar branding and marketing. This is the era when pink became associated with girls and blue became associated with boys. A few happenings during the decade helped to push pink further into this direction. Mamie Eisenhower, the wife of President Dwight D. Eisenhower, wore a pink dress for her inaugural gown in 1953, and Audrey Hepburn’s 1957 film Funny Face featured many women wearing pink dresses. The color was often still seen as being frivolous at the time, which reflected a less-than-equal view of women that persisted during these pre-women’s liberation years.

When Jacqueline Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe began wearing it in the early 1960s, it once again was viewed as being luxurious. It was adopted by punk, pop, and hip-hop culture in the following decades. Pink triangles became a symbol of gay activism in the 1970s when they were claimed by gay activists and removed from their dreadful past when they were used by Nazis to identify homosexuals in concentration camps. In general, the color pink is now associated with the LGBTQ community.

In recent years, the color has also been used by women in the West as a symbol of feminist power and protest, where sexual, reproductive, and social rights are addressed. Pink pussyhats were worn at the 2017 Women’s March in Washington, D.C., on the day after the inauguration of President Donald Trump. Similarly, Code Pink is a women’s activist group that opposes war and globalization. The pink of the twenty-first century is both pretty and powerful, both feminine and feminist. Men in the West have even been embracing the color more in recent years. Still, the color is generally more accepted n the East. For example, in India, pink clothes, adornments, and turbans are commonly worn by both sexes.

The color is associated with Breast Cancer Awareness Month, during which Metastatic Breast Cancer Awareness Day takes place. A pink ribbon is the symbol of breast cancer awareness. Other holidays such as Pink Cadillac Day and Pink Flamingo Day—which happens to take place today—celebrate with the color.

Pink can be seen almost everywhere you look. It is used in idioms and phrases such as “give a pink slip” and “tickled pink”; flowers bloom bearing its color; many foods and drinks sparkle with it; clothes and makeup are shaded with its hue; and even the rising and setting of the sun greet us and wave to us with shades of pink. No matter where pink is found, we celebrate it today!

How to Observe

Here are some ideas on how to spend the day:

Wear some pink clothes, a pink hat, or some pink shoes.

Buy something that is pink.

Wear pink lipstick or blush, or dye your hair pink.

Eat some pink colored food, such as watermelon,  peeps, rhubarb, salmon, shrimp, grapefruit, ham, or cotton candy.

Drink some pink colored beverages such as a strawberry shake or pink lemonade. Some cocktail options include the Pink Lady and the Pink Squirrel.

Listen to a song  or watch a film with “pink” in the title.

Celebrate Pink Flamingo Day, which also takes place today.

Have a party and incorporate as many pink things as possible, including pink decorations, food, and clothes.

Plant, pick, or buy some pink flowers, such as roses, hibiscuses, tulips, peonies, or hyacinths.

Look for a pinkish light from the sun early in the morning or in the evening before it goes down.

Read a book about the color pink, such as Pink: The History of a Punk, Pretty, Powerful Color by Valerie Steele.

Source

[aromantic-pantyanarchy]

It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.

I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.

I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.

I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)

I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.

[wolfiesmoon]

When you wear their clothes

genshin men x gn!reader

characters featured: xiao, neuvillette, wriothesley, zhongli and itto

i've been dreaming about genshin a lot lately idk this game has possesed me or smth so i feel like i'm required to write this? Also DAMN im rusty with genshin characters so i apologise profusely for any ooc-ness

(also wrio's is kinda suggestive!!)

XIAO is confused. Why on earth are you wearing his clothes? He isn't opposed to it specifically, but doesn't understand the appeal or the reason why you do it. "My clothes don't fit you properly. What's the point?" he asks, completely straight faced. You smile. "It reminds me of you when you're not with me!" He just scoffs and says he doesn't get your strange habits before moving on with his day. Somehow though, the image of you in his clothes won't leave his mind for the rest of the day. "Dammit..." he mumbles under his breath, barely audible when nobody's around. Don't bring up his pink cheeks in the evening when he comes back to see you, he will not elaborate.

Similarly, NEUVILLETTE is also confused. This must be another human thing that he isn't familiar with. What does wearing their lover's clothes mean to humans? "Oh, I just missed you... your clothes remind me of you, you know?" You explained when he questioned you on the matter. "Oh, I suppose that makes sense. Do you want more items related to myself for when I am absent?" He asks. While you do want to know what items he would bring you, you turn him down. "I like your shirts the most, because they smell like you and feel like your hugs." He doesn't know why exactly, but he has the urge to kiss you all of a sudden.

WRIOTHESLEY feels distracted when he sees you in his clothes from time to time. He gets busy a lot, so the moments he gets to spend with you feel extra special. But, what is he to do when you look so positively yummy in his shirt? "Hey, mind taking my shirt off? It's... sort of distracting." he admits, taking a sip of his tea. "But, wouldn't it be even more distracting if I took it off now?" you asked, feigning an innocent look. He almost spit out his tea. "I did not mean it like that...! Surely you're just teasing me." You just smiled mischeviously in response, taking a sip out of your own cup. "That's what I thought. I know that look."

ZHONGLI thinks you look odd in his clothes. Odd, but not bad by any means. You actually look quite endearing. "I'll make sure to commit this to memory." he says calmly, sitting down next to you on the bed. "You say that every time you're with me." you poke his shoulder gently, smiling up at him. "That's because everything about you is worth remembering, I suppose." Still, he thinks this specific memory is one he will treasure for a long, long time. "Oh my..." you felt heat rushing to your cheeks at his words, hugging his arm. Actually, he changed his mind, you're positively adorable in his clothes.

You're basically asking to get attacked with a flurry of kisses if you wear ITTO'S clothes in front of him. That's like, a show of affection! That you're totally his and no one else's! And that also means it's a cause for celebration! "Agh, Itto- Stop!" you try and fail to push his face away. "Hehehe..." he gives you a bright smile and places a big ol' kiss on your lips. "You should wear my clothes more often!!!" he felt proud of himself, puffing out his chest. "Ummm, whatever you say..." you're kind of worried that if you do that, your face will never escape his lips.

[benegesseritofficial]

The effects of face paint on Harrowhark's psyche

I've now cosplayed Gideon Nav 3 times, with my wife along as Harrow every time. Naturally, this has included full face paint for both of us each time and I have some thoughts.

Let me start by asserting that everything Muir writes in TLT about the face paint is accurate. Rubbing off your lips first, smearing into gray where the black and white meet, the way sweat makes it ooze but not run. I can't say if Muir (a known Homestuck) ever cosplayed as a troll, but I'm positive she tested out the practicality of the skull face paint or otherwise has first hand experience with extensive use of grease paint. Also, the way she describes normal people flinching when they see you is spot on.

I've noticed while putting on the make up that once most of my skin is covered, any flesh tones sticking out start to become unsettling. Specifically, the red/pink of the inner mouth and around the eyes jump out upsettingly. Every time I've done skull paint I find myself meticulously trying to patch over these edges of skin, despite knowing that it's inside skin that Shouldn't Have Make Up On It. Once my face is monochrome, I don't want to be able to see a scrap of real human under there. Smiling, or otherwise opening your mouth wide enough to see the pink, looks UNSETTLING. My own skin causes the uncanny valley effect. You see where this is going. In NtN we learn Harrowhark disassociates often enough that Crux isn't surprised or concerned to see "Harrow" insisting she's someone else. Obviously this is due to her schizophrenia, and perhaps trauma besides. But it doesn't account for every aspect of why Harrow's "like that." On her most lucid days Harrow ignores her body to the point of sweating blood and passing out. She goes entire days without eating. She thinks of herself as a skeleton unfortunately covered in flesh. She sleeps in her paint.

All of which is heinous, but that last one has stuck with me. From age 13-18 I barely glanced down while I showered and whatever I saw I basically blocked out. I wore underwear and a bra under my pajamas to sleep every night. I was going through the wrong puberty, "my body was in open rebellion" as I liked to say at the time, and the only way to cope was to bind it down and pretend it wasn't happening. By Gideon's narration in HtN one gets the impression most nuns of the Ninth are putting their paint on after breakfast and taking it off when they get home. It's not even expected the average person wears it every time they leave the house. But Harrow regularly only takes her paint off in order to redo it. I suspect a combination of being the most brainwashed person in her own cult, knowing how she was conceived, and the regular disassociation make it very difficult for Harrow to conceptualize that she actually lives in a body. If she faced that fact head on she'd have to ask why it so often feels someone else is using her body. She'd have to cope with owning this body, being a part of this body, that was bought with the blood of 200 children who should have been her peers and friends. Instead she pretends it's an object on loan from them. And she does it with 10 layers of black petticoats and so much paint she never has to see her own skin.

Which brings me to the final thing I've noticed wearing full face paint. It dehumanizes you to yourself and everyone around you. I couldn't read my own expressions in a mirror. Even people who understood and were delighted with my cosplay were visibly nervous talking to me. You don't look like a person. Studies have shown that faces wearing heavy make up are ranked as harder to read and perceived as less empathetic. It's a particularly insidious trap of patriarchy that many women find self esteem in wearing make up, while that very act makes everyone around them treat them more callously. And, worst of all, if you stop wearing it once you're used to it, your naked face is shocking. You look sick due to your colors being less bold and the normal small flaws of your face appear unbearably ugly. With all this in mind, Harrow has trapped herself in a feedback loop of not being able to witness her own face and becoming more and more disgusted with the flesh and person underneath whenever she has to glance at it.

[theostrophywife]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ best friend! enzo who is a little manipulative. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

enzo comes off as so sweet and caring (and he is, but he also has a dark side).

he's the guy best friend that every boyfriend worries about. specifically, your boyfriend. the two of you are so close, practically attached at the hip, but you swear that nothing is going on between you two.

you're just really good friends; just friends.

there's no reason to be jealous.

you don't even see enzo like that.

there's absolutely no way that your innocent best friend would ever think of you that way either.

of course he'd never steal your favorite scrunchie — the pink one with little yellow daisies on it — just to spray it with your vanilla scented perfume and wear it on his wrist while getting himself off in his restroom, panting and pressing his forehead against the closed door, peeking through the opening to watch you make yourself comfortable in his shirt, his sweats, in his bed. the sight of it alone drives him over the edge, making him cum all over his fingers as he chokes down filthy moans of your name.

enzo definitely doesn't take a different girl to bed every night, wishing it was you underneath him, moaning and screaming his name instead of whatever random he settled on because he couldn't get to you.

cause really they're just distractions before you finally figure out that the two of you are meant to be together.

best friend! enzo has dropped so many hints over the years, he's not been subtle at all about it, but you insist that you're just friends. enzo thinks it's cute how blind and oblivious you are. but he doesn't think it's cute when you start dating your loser boyfriend.

he hates his fucking guts.

you're his girl. you belong to enzo and enzo alone. doesn't that stupid twat know that?

it's fine, though. enzo knows he'll win in the end. he has a plan.

he'll do whatever it takes to drive a wedge between you and your boyfriend; chipping away at the relationship bit by crumbling bit. enzo does everything in his power to make him seem like a terrible boyfriend.

he doesn't stop any of the cuddly affectionate best friend behavior cause why should he? who cares if you have a boyfriend? he's just for now; enzo is forever.

・❥・ best friend! enzo would give you flowers and chocolates when you ace your exams.

・❥・ best friend! enzo would pick up your favorite tea and stationary when he's at hogsmeade.

・❥・ best friend! enzo would come over with a heating pad and snacks when you're on your period.

ofc your boyfriend doesn't like this, he tries to tell you that enzo is crossing a line and you're just letting him. but you tell him that he's being ridiculous; enzo is your best friend.

you often have fights about enzo, because the little shit will purposely do things to piss your boyfriend off.

・❥・ jumping up at the chance to give you his hoodie to wear when you're feeling cold.

・❥・ leaning in so close to you while you're standing by your locker, whispering things in your ear to make you smile and laugh.

・❥・ leading you by the small of your back when the two of you are in a large crowd cause he knows it makes you anxious.

best friend! enzo does all of this in front of your boyfriend because he literally just doesn't care.

every time you have a fight, enzo comes to the rescue. it's like he has a sixth sense for it (he bugged one of your stuffed animals so he can listen in on your conversations).

like clockwork, enzo is at your door with a movie and snacks to take your mind off of things. cuddling you up in a fuzzy blanket and hugging you tight and stroking your hair while you sit and sniffle on his lap.

"another fight again? you don't deserve any of that. if I were him, I'd never make you cry, honey."

hand sliding up your back, rubbing soothing circles while he wipes the tears away. kissing your forehead and playing with your hair to comfort you.

"s'kay. i'm here for you. let it all out, sweetheart."

he hates seeing you upset, but he loves that it gives him a chance to push the boundaries. so what if you're spooning? you used to do it before, you should still be able to do it now.

best friend! enzo loves to hold you tight, his chin tucked into your shoulder while he brushes his knuckles over you ribs, the sensation of his cold rings against your skin making you shiver involuntarily.

"are you cold, honey? here, come snuggle."

just as an excuse to press his dick against your ass. like he pretends to be this golden retriever sweetheart but your best friend is shrewd and calculating. he knows how to push your buttons.

always making little comments like:

・❥・ "oh he left you to hang out with his friends? that seems a bit selfish, doesn't it?"

・❥・ "he doesn't want to take you to your favorite restaurant? don't worry, honey. I already made a reservation."

・❥・ "he forgot to give you flowers for your anniversary? that's okay, sweetheart, I picked out this bouquet for you just in case."

best friend! enzo is working overtime, but that's okay because it's all going to pay off.

cause one night when him and the boys are hanging out in the common room, you come stumbling in, obviously looking for him — teary eyed and sad.

enzo immediately ditches the boys to comfort you. taking you up to his dorm so you can talk in private.

"what's wrong, sweetheart? I hate seeing you so upset."

"we...we broke up."

best friend! enzo hugging you and whispering soothing words in your ear, "oh no, honey. come here, tell me all about it."

all the while he's smiling because hell yeah he finally got rid of that prick.

you're sniffling, telling him that you had the fight to end all fights.

"what was it this time?"

you tell enzo that the two of you fought about him, how enzo doesn't respect your boyfriend and that he's always undermining him and obviously plotting to break up your relationship so he can have you all to himself.

and your boyfriend is obviously 100% right.

but enzo tells you that your boyfriend is just insecure because he knows he isn't right for you.

"I know, and I realized that when he tried to make me choose." "what do you mean?" "he said I had to choose between you. it was either him or you." his heart stops when you look up at him, glassy eyed and pouting. "and I chose you." enzo kisses your tears away, peppering soft little pecks on your cheeks. "you didn't have to do that, honey." "of course I did, enz. I'd rather lose a boyfriend than my best friend." best friend! enzo leans in closer until your noses touch, his hand coming up ever so slowly to gently cradle your jaw. "I’m glad you chose me, y/n." "you were a better boyfriend than he ever was anyways. he couldn't even remember my favorite flowers."

"peonies," enzo says confidently while staring at you with those big puppy dog eyes. "you like them cause they bloom in the spring and they only last a week, so it makes them extra special."

"you remembered that?"

"I remember everything you tell me, honey. I know you better than anyone. your boyfriend knew that and that's why he tried to come between us. he was jealous of what we have."

best friend! enzo mumbling all of this with his eyes closed, nose to nose with his big hands gripping your hips as he holds you in place.

"but he had no reason to be jealous, right?" you whisper as his hands travel underneath your shirt, his callouses rough and scratchy against your exposed skin.

enzo shakes his head, coming closer and closer until the gap between the two of you is basically nonexistent.

"of course not, sweetheart. we're friends, right?" licking his lips while his lashes brush against your cheek. "and friends comfort each other and help them forget all about their shitty exes."

enzo’s lips are basically touching yours as you sigh, melting into him. "they do?"

"mhm," enzo mumbles against your lips. "let me show you."

he knows he shouldn’t. he should probably wait, but enzo doesn’t really give a fuck. he’s waited too long. he wants you and he’s gonna show you exactly how much.

best friend! enzo cradles your cheek and gives a look that makes you melt. you hold your breath as the gap between you closes. butterflies erupt in your stomach as his lips press against yours, the pressure of his kisses making you sigh softly into his mouth.

he’s definitely pushing it. this could be a disaster. you could push him away and it would ruin the entire friendship. but you don't.

you do nothing to stop him. if anything, you kiss enzo back just as eagerly. cause his lips are so soft and he tastes like peaches and you can’t really think straight with his big hands gripping your hips so roughly, squeezing your ass while he moves you over his lap.

his big hands moving higher and higher till he’s feeling you up, slipping a hand under your bra to cup your breasts. distracting you with hungry kisses that make you feel dizzy. all you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and tug at his hair because wow enzo can kiss.

best friend! enzo puts his whole body into it, he moans like a whore into your mouth when you accidentally roll your hips. there's a smile on his face when you finally pull away and enzo is pleased to find you glassy eyed and kiss bitten.

then he's diving back in to eat. slipping some tongue in there to really rob you of all thought like there’s not a single thing on your mind right now but enzo, enzo, enzo.

manhandling you so that the two of you are in a spooning position and making you whine cause all you want to do is to keep kissing him, but enzo just shushes you.

best friend! enzo leaves hot, sloppy kisses on your neck while he slips a hand underneath your sweats.

"told you i'd make you feel better, honey," he says in that rough sexy deep voice. "are you gonna let me?" you gasp when he rubs over your panties. "please, enz." the neediness in your voice makes enzo smirk against your neck. "good girl."

then he's tugging your panties aside, rubbing your slick all over and groaning into your ear. teasing with one finger, easing in so it makes a filthy squelching sound.

"so eager for your best friend, hm? you’re dripping, honey."

all you can do is whimper as he adds another finger, curling those long, slender digits inside of you while you gasp and moan.

"don't worry, sweetheart. I'll take real good care of you."

best friend! enzo fingers you until your eyes roll back while his other hand squeezes your tits. he’s insatiable, there’s no stopping him now. enzo scissors his fingers inside of your soaking wet pussy, spreading you wide and marveling at the sight of you greedily riding his hand.

his sweet girl is just so desperate and needy. but enzo is more than happy to help, pressing his thumb down on your clit and whispering filthy things in your ear as he coaxes you to cum for him.

the orgasm tears through you, making your whole body shudder as you ride out the high. the comedown has you seeing stars, flinging you into the far corners of space, but enzo is right there, his mouth a hot brand against your skin as he leaves love bites and teeth marks on your neck.

"you sound so pretty moaning my name, but I wanna hear you scream it, honey."

best friend! enzo hoists your leg back so he can line up. you can’t help but whine as he teases you with the head of his cock, those shallow little thrusts setting your teeth on edge.

you want him so bad you’d beg at this point.

best friend! enzo knows this. all those months of plotting and scheming brought the two of you up to this point. this is it. this is the moment.

as much as he wants to fuck you senseless, enzo restrains himself, hovering at your entrance as he releases a long suffering sigh.

"best friends don't do this, baby."

enzo pretends to stop so he can watch you panic, mascara streaking down your cheeks while you whine and groan. you’re aching for him. you need him so badly that it hurts.

"enzo, don't stop. please. I need more." "hm, so do I honey." he murmurs into your neck. "but you'll have to say the magic words for that to happen." "what is it? I'll do whatever you want." "say you're mine," enzo says while his fingers possessively wrap around your throat. "say that you belong to me." "but - but - we're friends." your head is spinning, barely able to speak as enzo squeezes. "sure, baby, and the sky is red."

his little smirk is the first glimpse that you get of his hidden manipulative side and oh it suddenly clicks that your ex-boyfriend was right all along, enzo has been scheming and manipulating and plotting for this to happen from the very beginning.

and you should be repulsed by it, but fuck why is it so hot?

"you've been planning this all along."

enzo shrugs nonchalantly. "what can I say, baby? I know what I want and I get what I want. I wasn't going to let your stupid little boyfriend get in the way of that."

"that's wrong - you shouldn't have -" gasping when enzo slips in a little more, stretching you out.

"you can be mad at me later, honey. but right now, let me convince you that I was the right choice."

"we shouldn't -" you start to protest, but it's half hearted. you already forgot what you were about to say as soon as enzo kisses your neck. he sucks at your earlobe, his breaths hot and ragged while he slowly grinds against you. both of you know that you're close to breaking.

"don't you want to feel me stretching you out, getting so deep that you feel me in your guts? I know you want it, baby. you just have to say the words."

you don't even try to fight it, because why would you? enzo would go to the ends of the world for you, that much was obvious. he wanted you - no, he needed you, and he'd stop at nothing to get you.

for the first time in your friendship, you know exactly how it feels.

so you turn over to look at him, pretty eyes brimming with tears because it hurts not to have him inside of you. "I'm yours, enzo. I belong to you."

best friend! enzo gives you a messy, filthy kiss as he finally slips all the way in. you gasp, fingernails sinking into his back as his thick cock stretches your walls. you can feel him throbbing inside of your pussy, every ridge and vein increasing your pleasure as he fully sheathes himself in your warmth.

"wanted to do this for so long," enzo grunts, nearly dizzy with how tightly you’re squeezing around him. fuck, you’re so perfect and you don’t even know it. "I love watching you fall apart on my cock. this pussy is mine and so are you. you’ve always been mine, baby.”

"I don't care that I had to lie and cheat to get you. now that I’ve got you, I'm never letting you go, honey."

meanwhile you’re reduced to a whimpering mess. you writhe and arch against the bed, wanting more and more of him.

"do you think it was easy watching him hug you, kiss you, touch you?" thrusting in so sharply as he fucks all of his frustrations out. "it was fucking hell, but I don't mind playing the long game. you should know there isn't a line I wouldn't cross when it comes to you."

the words make you moan and clench, because god this side of him is just so unhinged and sexy.

"it's a good thing I chose you, then."

and that makes enzo smile, flashing you that sweet disarming look before absolutely railing the fuck out of you.

best friend! enzo rolls over on his back and positions you on top of him, driving in deep and fucking you until you’re a blubbering mess, blissed out on his cock. enzo rubs your clit, urging you closer and closer to the edge.

"that's it, sweet girl. let go, I've got you."

best friend! enzo kisses your shoulders as his orgasm builds. enzo melts when you lift his hand up to your lips, kissing his knuckles so tenderly that his heart clenches at the sight of it. the sweet gesture sends him over the edge. his thrusts turn sloppy as he paints your walls with his cum, filling you up until he’s dripping out of your pussy and making a mess of his sheets.

the two of you lay in silence for a moment, his big arms wrapping around you as he places a kiss on your temple.

you snuggle closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "I'm still very mad at you, you know."

and best friend! enzo just smiles cause he knows you don’t really mean it. you never could stay mad at him for too long.

"would eating your pussy until you cry count as an apology?"

"enzo!"

"can't blame a guy for trying."

[tasteleeknow]

RASPBERRY PIE

minors dni. minho x fem!reader. 4k words content warnings. pet names (sweetheart, angel). mutual pining. sweet/shy reader. perv!minho. corruption kink. food play. dirty talk. oral (m rec.). soft!dom minho.

you bake your quiet neighbour a warm raspberry pie.

He's pretty sure he's utterly fucked from the jump – he finds himself attached so early he almost convinces himself you're a witch in disguise; that maybe he'd moved in next door to a creature designed to trap men like him. A siren, maybe. The sweetness was an act; all the soft tones and doe eyed looks were just a trick to lure him down beneath the waves.

He was determined not to drown.

And then you show up with the pie, a little flushed from working around a hot oven. It'd been 6 months – 6 months since he'd moved in, and as he opens the door to find you in an apron with little pink stains, a feeling of approaching and inevitable doom settles in his chest. Finally, you'd come to take him.

"Hi," you greet with a shy smile. "My friend brought me over far too many berries yesterday so..." you look down at the golden pie, carefully decorated and clearly still warm, "...well I made this. For you."

If he was wise, he'd politely decline, close the door, and never be faced with the reality of the sweet little siren in his apartment, offerings of temptation and all.

"For me?"

You look up at him through long lashes. "Do you like pie?" you ask. It's the way you say it, like if he doesn't you might genuinely hurt inside – like with a simple rejection of your offering, he had the ability to snuff out some little candle alight inside you.

"I like pie," he says.

Then you smile. Like it's the best news you've heard in weeks. "Oh, good."

He steps aside, his body betraying him. The siren enters with her warm pie and soft smiles – and he knows, unequivocally, that he's fucked.

He keeps his distance as you comfortably navigate to the kitchen to find a place for your offering. The apartments were all pretty much identical as far as he knew. The two on this floor, his and yours, were mirrored. He imagines that just on the other side of your joining wall, you took the same steps he did he each morning, in parallel.

You fiddle a little with the delicately placed raspberries atop the pie as he approaches from the other side of the island. You wear a tiny silver ring on one finger, much like one he wears on his own. He'd spotted it before, during short interactions in the elevator. He suppresses the urge to comment on it now, to ask if it meant anything to you.

He doesn't need to know you. He couldn't afford to. He was finding himself attached enough without it.

Then you pluck one little berry up in your fingers and bring it to your lips. He watches you. He watches you and he knows that he's walked willingly into a trap.

"Sweet?"

You look up. "Hm? Oh." You nod. "They're lovely. My friend gets them from this farm near his parent's place."

Friend. His. He sits in the feeling that stirs in his chest for a quiet moment. It's a rotten feeling. He doesn't like it at all.

"He brings them often?" he finds himself asking.

"Not at all. He just happened to come by after being there for a weekend. He doesn't go there often, I don't think." Your accompanying smile is almost enough to snuff out the rotten feeling before he has time to digest it. Almost.

Then he considers that this might not be the only pie. You may have made this other guy a pie just like it... maybe it was bigger, maybe you'd used the sweetest berries in his pie.

He kicks a cat toy across the floor as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, a little embarrassed by his own internal monologue. Witchcraft, turning his brain into mush.

"You have a pretty view."

He looks up to find you brushing your hands down your apron and rounding the kitchen island. You seem drawn to his floor to ceiling windows, a little moth to the light.

He follows.

"Mine isn't nearly this nice," you continue once he's standing beside you. "All I get is the construction site and a concrete wall." Then you close your eyes, head tilting back a little to let the sun's afternoon rays bathe your face. "Don't get the sun like this, either," you add, a little dreaminess leaking into your already sweet voice.

Oh, he's fucked.

"You like it?"

You blink up at him, eyes adjusting to the light again. "Hm?"

"I mean if you really like it, you're welcome over anytime, whenever." He wonders if this is part of your spell work, making him say stupid shit. Maybe he'd be better off if you were casting spells on him, if he had a reasonable excuse for being so fucking braindead. "For the sun," he adds, like it makes it better.

A small breath of laughter slips from your pretty lips. "It does get a little gloomy over there, on my side of the wall."

It was hard to imagine anywhere you were being gloomy.

"I should go," you continue after a short moment of comfortable silence, each of you basking in the sunlight. He really should appreciate that more, he notes. Then he considers the fact he'll associate this little patch of warmth with you each time he attempts such a thing.

"Sure," he says, following you from a safe distance to the door. "Thank you. For the pie."

"You're welcome."

Everything is fine. He's alone and he survived the encounter. Then he's faced with the pie. He stares down at it, warm and made with careful hands.

He plucks a berry off the top. He thinks of the berry you'd eaten in the same way.

Everything is fine.

He hesitates as he goes to pluck a second berry. Instead of lifting one from the crust, he presses the tip of his finger a little against the surface. Warm. He breaks through. His finger is coated in syrupy, red filling when he pulls it free. It's sugary sweet when he sucks it clean.

Shame. That's what he feels next. Because sweet gestures of neighbourly kindness should not trigger the kind of thoughts creeping their way into his head.

He wonders if the little siren's cunt is as warm and sweet as the little offering she brought him. He considers doing the right thing, having a cold shower and sitting in the morning sun with a slice of pie.

But apparently, today, and the day before, and every day for the past 6 months, Minho was not wise and he wasn't very good. Because he let the thoughts of his sweet little neighbour stew for months, and this is where it'd led him.

He stands there, one palm pressed flat on the kitchen counter, the other buried in his sweatpants, and he thinks of the sweet little siren with her sweet offerings, and he imagines sinking his hard cock into her warm, sweet cunt.

—

It's hard not to deflate entirely as you close your apartment door behind you. You'd expected too much from a single pie, you suppose. It would entirely out of character for him to ask you to stay for a slice, to take the opportunity to finally have a conversation longer than an elevator ride.

You sigh, dropping your forehead against the cool surface of the door. It helps a little. You're overheated, both from the cooking, the warm sun, and the heat that had bubbled up from the inside as the pretty - yet frustratingly reserved - man next door had watched you move about his space.

You hadn't lied, his apartment was far nicer than yours. You could imagine basking in that patch of sun any chance you had. You wonder if he does the same, if he sits there after a shower, chest bare and hair still a little damp - letting the sun warm his skin.

You leap back as a knock on the door jolts you out of your daydream. Sighing, you press your palm to your forehead - head thoroughly rattled - as you pull the door open.

Oh.

"Hi," Minho says casually. He's a little flushed compared to when you'd left him minutes earlier. He shouldn't be. There were no stairs between your apartments.

"Hello, again."

He glances over your shoulder, getting a clear view of your empty living room. "It is darker in here," he says, still casual.

"Oh. Mm, yeah. I miss your sun already."

His eyes fix back on you. Then he pulls his lip between his teeth slightly. He has something to say... something he won't say.

"Why'd you make me the pie?" he asks.

You blink. "I... had a lot of berries from-"

"Your friend. I know."

You're officially confused. His eyes drop down your dirty apron before returning to your face. "You only made one?"

"Is it bad?" you question.

He pushes some hair away from his eyes. "No," he says quickly. "No, it's... nice." His eyes sweep down your body again. "Sweet," he adds.

"I only made one."

His eyes jump to yours before a brief look of confusion flashes across his pretty face. He seems to remember his own question soon enough. "You didn't want to give it to," he gestures vaguely behind you, "your friend?"

"No," you answer simply. This entire interaction was drifting into territory you weren't sure you were ready for. If his questions got any more interrogative, you might find yourself wondering how to answer them in any other way than 'Oh, the pie? I baked it for you because I have a huge, embarrassing crush on you, even if you've seemed intent on not knowing me.'

"He doesn't like pies?" he asks.

You can't help following the path of his fingers as he fiddles with the chain hanging around his neck. They brush his skin as he strokes the metal back and forth.

"I... don't understand what you're asking me," you say as you pull your eyes from his neck. "Is something wrong?"

He readjusts his position in the doorway, pressing his hand to the frame and freeing you from the constant distraction at his neck. He leans over you a little like this.

God, he's pretty.

"You a witch?" he asks.

"I'm sorry?"

"Did you put something in it?" he continues, still leaning well and truly into your space. "Something to make me-" he cuts himself off, brows furrowing.

"Are you asking me if I poisoned the pie?"

His voice drops, like someone might overhear, despite you both being entirely alone on this floor of the building. "I'm trying to figure out why all I can fucking think about is how you might taste on my tongue."

Your head rushes, all the heat returning. Then your eyes drop to the floor.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

You don't. His shoes are safer. He was flirting. More than flirting. He wanted you.

His fingers guide your chin up, it doesn't take much, a nudge. "I'll leave if you want," he says. "Never mention it again. Just tell me what you want."

"Did you like it?" you find yourself whispering. "The pie."

His lips crack into a lopsided smile. It's tiny, but it's a smile. "Loved it, sweetheart. Sent me to heaven."

"Would you... would you like to come in?"

He nods.

You go to turn, to let him follow you. But then, instead, you take his hand and lead him in. He's warm. You imagine all the sun he gets over there must've absorbed deep inside him over time. Maybe he could leave some of it behind here for you - that heat might leak from him if your kept him here long enough.

He follows where you lead, his hand still grasped firmly in your own. You're not sure why you lead him to the sofa. You aren't sure what you're expecting next. It's why you find yourself simply standing beside the piece of furniture waiting for him to say something – to let go of your hand maybe.

Instead, his thumb begins brushing over your skin. He's quiet, seemingly unhurried to break the tension building.

"I asked my friend to bring the berries," you confess quietly, eyes focused on your interwined hands. Confessions were always so much easier with your eyes downwards. "I wanted to make something for you... specifically."

"Why's that?"

His thumb continues against your skin. He doesn't make you look at him like he had before.

"Because I... wanted you to - I wanted your attention."

You can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, "So you baked me a pie?"

"I'm good at baking."

"You are," he agrees. Then his other hand reaches for the hem of your apron. He rubs it between his fingers a little. "Messy though."

You look down at the patterned splotches, pink on white. Then he releases your hand, taking that warmth with him. He only allows you a few seconds to miss it though. That same hand snakes around the back of your neck, skin on skin.

Your eyes are drawn to his without thought.

"Are you always messy?" he asks.

You nod, chewing on your lip a little.

He seems pleased with your answer, a small hum escaping his throat. "I like messy," he says, sounding a little far away. "Do you like messy, sweetheart?"

Your eyes drop to his lips, a little stained from your pie filling. "Yeah," you breathe.

He tugs you towards him before your have time to suck in another breath, attaching himself to you like he's starved. You can't help gasping a little into his mouth as he presses you into him with a hand to your back.

Holy fuck. Surely you'd wake up slumped against the door any second. Maybe someone hadn't just knocked on the door. Someone had opened it and knocked you out and you were dreaming about your pretty, brown eyed neighbour.

He groans a little before taking your lip between his teeth. No. No you were definitely awake. "So sweet," he mumbles as he releases you, his breath ghosting over your wet lips. "Can I have you?"

–

It's hard to keep his head on straight as you look up at him with those big sweet eyes. Can I have you? His stomach rolls as he waits for you to say yes. Please say yes. 6 months of denial and he was desperate.

You'd made that sweet little gift for him. Just for him. His little siren.

Then you're pressing against his chest, forcing him down onto the sofa. He looks up at you, at the stained apron and the hair sticking a little to your temples from the time spent making his pie.

Then you lower yourself to your knees.

Oh, fuck.

Your hands only have to brush his legs for him to get the hint. He spreads them, allowing you to shuffle closer to him – settling between his thighs.

Then you look up at him. "Can I taste you?"

He's keeping you. His head drops back as he collects himself. Then, "You want my cock in your pretty little mouth?"

You nod, fingers pressing lightly into his thighs.

Minutes ago he was fucking himself into his own hand imagining how warm you'd feel around him. Now you're between his legs, lips wet, asking to taste him.

He's careful to keep his eyes on you as he frees himself, intent on catching each and every reaction you make – he's keeping it all.

You're a little hesitant as you reach for him. "You're good, sweetheart," he encourages. "Touch me however you like."

It seems to be all you need. In the next second your soft little hand is wrapping around his length. His head drops back again as his eyes close.

It's a mistake, closing his eyes. He's not prepared when your wet lips press to the tip of him, soft and warm. He groans, hand automatically making a home in your hair. He needs grounding. He needs –

Your lips wrap around him. His little siren was sucking his dick into her sweet little mouth. His hips jump a little. "Oh fuck, that's right. You're all warm for me."

You hum a little around him. Then, you take him deeper. Hot little tongue dancing over his sensitive skin.

"Good girl," he groans. "Take it for me, sweetheart." He resists the urge to spill himself right here, right against your tongue. "Hm? You taking it for me?"

His hips jump again as he fucks himself into your hot mouth, wet and sweet and just for him. You'd wanted his attention. You'd come for him. Just him.

"You mine?" he gasps as he forces his head up to look at you. "You gonna let me fuck you?"

Your lips pull off him slowly, a little suction at his tip sending his head spinning. "Do you want to?" you ask, lips swollen.

He leans forward enough to begin lifting you, encouraging you to climb into his lap. Each hand rests at your hips as you settle yourself there, his leaking cock pressed between you.

"So bad," he answers.

You shift a little in his lap. He imagines you squirming on his cock.

"Me too," you confess. It's quiet, like it's bad.

Sweet siren.

"Sit on me," he instructs. "Want you to bounce on me, sweetheart."

You eyelashes flutter as you blink a few times, processing, deciding. Then you shift, reaching up under your dress and tugging your underwear down.

Something in his stomach stirs when he realises you were leaving the rest on, apron and all.

You grasp him in a soft hand, guiding him beneath your clothes – then you sink down. He's transfixed by the little sound that escapes your lips as you take him in. That, and the way your cunt feels squeezing around him. He might have to keep you for fucking ever.

Hot and sweet and wet and better than he'd imagined as he'd fucked himself against his counter minutes earlier. Better than any of the scenarios he'd dreamed up over the months he'd spent thinking of his sweet little neighbour.

You fall into him with a sigh once you're full seated, cock buried deep.

"Doing so well," he says, hand squeezing a little at the back of your neck.

You mumble something into his neck in response. He can't quite make it out, but he swears, it almost sounds like a tiny 'thank you'. He has to keep himself from filling you at the thought of it.

His hands return to your hips. You must take it as a prompt because you lean back from him enough to begin lifting yourself off him and dropping again.

It's slow at first, a little swivel in your hips, grinding yourself down into him.

The apron prevents him from seeing how his cock looks slipping in and out of your little cunt. He hasn't even seen it, that sweet little hole between your legs.

Instead, he feels.

–

It makes sense that a man as pretty as him would have the prettiest cock. One you wanted to taste. One that would have you slippery and ready to take him.

There's this vein that throbs in his neck each time he drops his head back with a groan. His neck. God you want to lean forward and bite into it. But he might not be into that. Next time, you think. Or the time after that.

God you hope there's a next time.

His fingers dig into your hip as you sink all the way down again. It feels a little like he's resisting, holding back.

"Minho?"

His head lifts, eyes a little glassy as he blinks at you. "Hm?"

"You can fuck me," you tell him. "However you want. I want you to fuck me."

He blinks again. His fingers dig into your skin harder.

"Tell me when you wanna stop. Just tell me," he says.

You nod. Then he's leaning forward and tugging you against him. His lips press to your skin just at the crook of your neck.

Then you're falling. He falls over you. Then he lets go. He presses you into the couch cushions as he drives into you, hair falling over his face. He's even pretty like this, with parted lips and brows slightly furrowed.

Your skin slaps together as he fucks himself into you. Messy, he'd said. He liked messy.

That's what he gets as he continutes to drive into you, as you begin to drip around him, as he fucks that wetness into you and over your thighs and then the sounds it all makes.... messy.

"Wanna fill you," he mutters. "God, I wanna fill you so bad. Wanna fuck my cum into your sweet cunt."

You squeeze your eyes shut as he continues, overwhelmed.

"You can take it for me, angel. I know you can. Sweet little thing made just for me. I knew it." He's muttering so much you're hardly sure he even knows what he's saying. His fingers are almost painful as they dig into your skin, like he can't hold onto you hard enough.

"Fill me," you gasp.

He eyes lift from where you join together to lock on your face. "Yeah?" he asks, a slight croakiness breaking his words up a little. "I'll make you all warm and sticky inside, hm? Just like your pretty little pie? That sound nice?"

Oh god. There was something inside you, something made for this – for him. You knew this was going to ruin you forever.

"Please."

He falls over you, then he bites. He bites into you as he floods you full.

[redsray]

Batkids playing any kind of board game but make it extra competitive because whoever wins gets to choose what Bruce wears for the next gala.

Bruce, in a sparkly top and skinny jeans:

Reporter: Ah, who chose your outfit tonight, Brucie?

Bruce: That'd be my eldest, dear!

Dick, behind him, full into the gala persona: Flattering, isn't it? He should wear it more often, don't you think, sweetheart?

Reporter, flushed: Oh, absolutely.

Bruce (to Dick): Get a new fashion style. Please.

Dick: Never.

Reporter: Who would be responsible for your wardrobe tonight, Brucie? It's certainly a statement.

Bruce, head to toe in a pink suit and Hello Kitty accessories: Gorgeous, isn't it? All the credit will have to be given to Jason, though, I'm afraid.

Reporter: Your second son, if I'm not mistaken?

Bruce: The very one.

Jason from across the gala hall, trying to not cough up his drink with laughter:

Tim, next to him: He's pulling it off, though. Little spins and everything.

Jason: Still ridiculous. That's Batman right there, Timbo.

Tim, snickering: The Dark Knight, huh?

Bruce, dressed in a collared white shirt, sweater and skirt, looking like he just came out of a light academia novel:

Reporter: Wow, Brucie. Who do we thank for that wonderful outfit choice?

Bruce: Ah, flattering, is it not? Tim's choices when it comes to fashion are wonderful, if not a bit simple.

Tim, nodding from behind him: Only the finest satin skirts. Charming, right?

Tim, to Bruce: Don't call my style simple, Mr. all I wear is black.

[Jason handing Dick $10 in the background because Bruce does, in fact, pull off a skirt.]

Reporter: Oh lord, what a gown! Who influenced your fashion choice tonight, Brucie?

Bruce, in a long green and black gown with gold accessories, nothing short of royal-looking: I fear only one person I know could choose an outfit as gorgeous as this one.

Damian, proudly next to him, in a smaller, matching gown: Only the most exquisite. You lot in this flimsy country cannot compare.

Bruce: Yes, Damian has a fine taste in fashion. He gets it from his mother.

Damian, quieter: Well certainly not from you.

Bruce, dressed in an elegant white dress shirt, long black pants and a corset with red accessories, a fan in his right hand:

Reporter: What an entrance! Anyone to give credit to for the wardrobe, Brucie?

Bruce: That'd be my daughter, she certainly shines with her choice of clothing.

Cass, grinning with a matching fan: Very pretty.

Bruce: Thank you, Cass.

Reporter: Woah, that's certainly new. Any reason for this choice of clothes, Brucie, dear?

Bruce, in a snapback cap, loose jeans and a band t-shirt, complete with rings and a chain around his neck: Well, all of my children are creative, but... Duke might just take the cake for this one, love.

Duke, losing his absolute shit next to Jason, Dick and Tim: You look great, B.

Steph doesn't usually go to galas, but she participates in the game nevertheless. If she wins, god help Bruce, because it's a gamble with her. He either ends up wearing a gorgeous outfit with eccentric and trend-setting accessories or literal checkered pyjamas. Worst yet, he has to say he picked it himself, since he can't directly blame Steph.