#I was like. 'hmm I will try to get this out by the end of the week' and I keep doing. other things.

[johnbrand]

Unverified Link

“What is this link Kevin just sent me? Doesn’t he know I’m trying to study for our O-Chem exam tomorrow? Gosh it’s like he never tries to study, just procrastinating his way through Pre-Med. I wish I could be a secret genius too and ace every test without having to do any of the prep work.”

“‘Unverified Link’? This must be one of those things to make sure that I’m not some bot or whatever.”

“One hour long? Seriously Kev? Might as well take a quick study break and get a snack for this. That pint of triple chocolate ice cream has been whispering to me this whole time, but so has my leftover pizza. Hmm…so many choices.”

“Alright, I’ll just hit play and watch the first five minutes then skip to the end. I still want to play a few rounds of League and get a new dress shirt for the upcoming band concert today so hopefully this won't be too exciting. Can’t believe I already went up another size.”

“Just gotta put in my headphones and–there! What is this? Is this just a looping video? And why is the screen just–oh wait, what’s that spiral thing? It has…pretty colors. Yeah, very pretty colors. It’s relaxing sort of…the spiral is relaxing. Silky…soothing…sinking…”

“...yeah, it feels good to…good to stare. It feels…good to relax. It…feels good to…stop thinking…”

“Watch the spiral…follow the spiral…let the spiral be in control. I want nothing more than to be relaxed? Relaxed does sound…good. I want the spiral to be in control? Yeah…I want the spiral to be…in control.”

“I want what the spiral wants…I’ll be who the spiral wants me to be…the spiral wants me to be…a jock?...but I’m too chubby and I don’t even like sports an-”

“...in control. The spiral is…in control. I want to be relaxed? Yeah…relaxed…let the spiral be in control…”

“What do I want? The spiral wants…I want...I want to be…no…the spiral…the spiral wants me…to be…I want to be…no…no!...I don’t want…I don’t…I do…want to be…a jock…”

“...I want to be a jock.”

“Be honest? I…wanna be a jock…I want to be a jock!”

“Jocks are muscular. The spiral wants me to be muscular. I…want to be…muscular. Jocks are popular. The spiral wants me to be popular. I want…to be popular. Jocks are manly. The spiral wants me to be manly. I want to be manly…”

“...to be manly. I want to be muscular. I want to be popular. I want to be manly. I want…”

“...I want to…want to be muscular. I…want to…want…popular. I…wah-...wa-...wam manly…I am manly. I am…”

“I am muscular. I am popular. I am manly. I am muscular. I am popular. I am manly. I am–smelly? Wait what-…I am muscular, popular, manly…I am a jock…and jocks are…”

“Jocks are smelly. I want to be smelly. Jocks are arrogant. I want…the spiral wants me…I want to be arrogant. Jocks are stupid…No I’m not…I’m…the spiral wants…but I’m not…the spiral wants…no!...the spiral…is in control…I want to feel…good…I want the spiral…in control? Yeah…spiral in control.”

“...I want to be…smelly. I want…to be arrogant. I want…I want…to…to be…”

“...I want to be smelly. I want to be arrogant. I want to…to be…st-...”

“...I am smelly. I am arrogant. I am stu-...-pid…no I won’t…I can’t…I…please…"

"...I am…stupid…”

“I am smelly. I am arrogant. I am stupid. I am muscular. I am popular. I am manly. I am smelly. I am arrogant. I am stupid. I am muscular. I am popular. I am manly. I am smelly. I am arrogant. I am stupid. I am a jock. I am a jock. I am a jock…”

“Bro…what was that link Kyle just sent me? Has me feelin’ all dazed, like my head is stuffed with cotton or somethin’. At least, more than usual huhuh...He better not have sent me another dumb virus or…other dumb crap. Dude is even more spaced out than I am sometimes.”

“How much time have I got before practice? Let’s see uh…it’s 2:30 now and…add an hour to that and uh...huhuhuh whatever I just need to shower before then. Or I could see if anyone could do a quick round of FIFA. Yeah, that sounds a lot better. People dig the B.O. anyway, right? The man musk, yeah...Just gonna text Kyle to see if he’s down..."

[bokutosbabe]

hey hey can i get paired too? my top artist is ive and my top song is ive's off the record, have a nice day! and thank you in advance♡

if your top artist was ive and your top song was off the record, i'd pair you with...

reo mikage

AND

nagi seishiro

જ⁀♡⊹｡° forbidden fruit

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event! - masterlist -

♡ content — reo mikage x gn! reader, nagi seishiro x gn! reader, gn! reader, reader and them have been best friends since high school, set in future (nagi and reo still play together), in readers apartment, christmas time!!

♡ synopsis — you've always had feelings for reo mikage and nagi seishiro, but you can't...no you won't...ruin your friendship for your own greed.

Your apartment felt warmer than usual, though maybe it was because the three of you were crammed together on your couch, wrapped in an oversized blanket that barely managed to cover everyone’s legs.

The soft glow of the TV illuminated the living room as the opening credits of The Polar Express began to roll. The scent of freshly popped popcorn lingered in the air, mingling with the faint cinnamon aroma from the holiday candle you’d lit earlier.

Matching pajamas—red and green plaid for all of you—added to the festivity. It had been Reo’s idea, of course, to get a set for each of you. Nagi complained the whole time, muttering about how it was too much effort to change, but here he was, sitting on the other end of the couch, legs stretched out over yours and Reo’s.

Reo was beside you, a little too close for something platonic but not quite close enough to be anything more. He had his arm draped casually along the back of the couch, fingers brushing against your shoulder in a way that felt entirely intentional.

The quiet hum of the movie played in the background, but none of you were really paying attention.

“You should’ve seen their faces when Nagi scored that last goal,” you said, trying to break the tension that had been hanging in the air since they arrived. “The crowd went wild.”

Nagi smirked lazily, his head tilting against the cushion. “It was nothing. Just another game.”

“Yeah, nothing,” Reo scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You nearly tripped over your own feet trying to pull that off.”

“Still scored, didn’t I?” Nagi replied with a yawn, kicking Reo’s shin lightly.

Reo glared but didn’t move his legs from the tangle of limbs you all had going on. Instead, his hand slid down from the back of the couch to rest on your shoulder, his fingers brushing against your collarbone. It was subtle, but you noticed it immediately.

You shifted slightly, unsure if it was because you wanted to lean into the touch or escape it.

“They only went wild because Reo set it up perfectly,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to neutral ground.

Reo’s lips quirked into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Finally, someone appreciates me.”

Nagi snorted. “they're just being polite.”

“Am not,” you said quickly, glancing between them. “You were both amazing.”

That earned a quiet “hmm” from Nagi and a softer look from Reo.

The movie played on, but the tension was almost suffocating now. Every movement, every glance felt loaded. Reo’s fingers lingered on your shoulder a little too long, while Nagi’s legs stayed draped over yours as if he’d forgotten how to move.

You loved nights like this—being with them, laughing, teasing—but the more time passed, the harder it was to ignore the undercurrent running between you all.

Reo shifted closer, his hand sliding from your shoulder to rest lightly on your arm. “You’re quiet,” he said softly, his voice low enough that Nagi didn’t seem to catch it.

“I’m just tired,” you murmured.

“Tired from cheering for us so loudly?” Nagi teased, his golden eyes flicking to you with that mischievous gleam.

You laughed, but it sounded more nervous than you’d intended. “Exactly.”

Reo’s thumb traced a small circle against your skin, almost absentmindedly, and your heart raced in response.

And then Nagi shifted, his legs slipping from yours as he leaned forward to grab a handful of popcorn. He didn’t say anything, but the way his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long made you swallow hard.

They weren’t subtle. Neither of them was.

But neither were you, were you?

Because you didn’t pull away from Reo’s touch, and you didn’t stop the way your gaze flickered to Nagi, wondering if he noticed—or if he cared.

The truth was simple but impossible to say out loud: you wanted them both. You didn’t want to choose. You couldn’t.

The movie’s cheerful music and warm holiday theme contrasted painfully with the knot in your chest. You glanced at Reo, then at Nagi, and then back at the screen, wondering how much longer you could pretend this was just a normal movie night.

But for now, no one said anything.

Reo’s hand stayed on your arm. Nagi’s leg brushed yours again as he shifted back into place.

And you all sat there, tangled together in a way that felt like it could either fall apart or come together entirely, depending on who had the courage to say something first.

my nagireo x reader agenda WILL rise

i hope you liked it!

[gridzdoodle]

hmm tf2 comic 7 got me feeling things here's a one shot

December 5, 1987

(2.7k wordcount also cross posted to ao3)

December 5, 1987: 5:30 am

On the dot, Spy found his body rousing to awakeness, at the same time and in the same way it had for an irrelevant number of years. He unceremoniously shoved off the thick blanket that he recalled Jeremy had bought on discount several years ago. A small lifetime ago, he might have yearned for the fine silken thing that he’d gifted his son at some point. Now, he was just warm.

There was that one constant, even as his life took him every which way. Up before the team (save for Jane, who was easy to avoid if he pleased). Up before the kids for a moment of peace (though anything was peace to him after it all). Up before Jeremy, to relieve the man (he really was on now, wasn’t he?) of some chores so he could rest just a little while longer. He really did need it nowadays, in his condition. 

Before all though, Spy would be afforded a moment to himself.

December 5, 1987: 5:52 am

Currently clocking in at four weeks of continuous residence, Spy had found himself falling into routine. The air was cold and the sky was dark and the flame that lit his cigarette was warm and he was content. The Willis family would enjoy the cozy embrace of sunlight when it came, but this moment would remain his. In this moment, there was nothing to do, and wasn’t that beautiful? He could go about slowly, methodically, knowing that everything was going to turn out just fine. 

The sky was lightening. Judging by every other morning he had spent staring at the same sky at the same time, Spy could guess that the sun would be peeking up from behind the neighboring house. As good a queue as any to duck back inside to start the day properly. 

December 5, 1987: 6:30 am

The little ones would be getting up one by one, between now and 7:30. Jeremy might get up between 7:30 and 8:00 depending on how his body would decide to treat him that day. Yesterday he seemed more active, so the earlier end of the spectrum was more likely. That gave Spy around an hour of interrupted time to take care of things before Jeremy would be insisting that he could do it himself.

He would start off with breakfast. The kids were always starved first thing in the morning, natural of growing children. Something simple, generally applicable, and all around practical. He went to the cupboard and reached for the oats. Weaning the household off whatever prize-inside cereal their father had the habit of buying was certainly a task. But four weeks of consistent no-budging breakfasts had practically solved that problem, thank god. Now it was just a matter of who took their meal what way, which wasn’t rocket science. 

By the time Spy had fetched the oats, milk, and almost brought the water to a full boil, he could hear the squeal of a little voice ricochet from the door, to the hallway, to his ears. That would be little Tammy, no doubt. He killed the heat and followed the sound.

December 5, 1987: 6:42

“Eeek!” Tammy squeaked, and Spy was only a little surprised to find her on top of the dresser thrice her height. To his left, he found the top bunk bed vacant with poor Tommy down below clenching a pillow over his ears to try and get a few more precious moments of shut-eye.

“Quel est le problème?”

A sniff, “Spider! ‘n my bed! Get it off!!” 

Well, that was two accounted for, though he didn’t trust Jeremy’s construction skills enough to leave the girl up there for a moment more. In a few strides, Spy’s foot brushed the foot of the dresser, and he extended his arms to the top. When the girl’s squirming jostled it, he opted to plant his hands on either side to stabilize it. 

“I’m afraid I will not be taking care of that until you get down from there. Please get down from there, by the way.” and he extended his arms once more. Tammy looked about anxiously, yet ultimately decided to make her way into his waiting arms. Though when Spy went to place her on the floor, he found her limbs wrapped so tightly around his torso that something in his spine might have rearranged itself. 

Spy nearly shook her down. 

“What if it’s on the floor?” she blubbered. Spy did a once-over.

“It is not.”

“Are- are you sure..?” Spy looked again.

“Oui. Very.” He crouched to the ground, giving Tammy little choice but to part with him. There was no struggle, reassurance a success. “Where did you say it was?” She made a gesture to her own bunk. It was not a very tall one, so he simply leaned over the top and found it completely vacant of creepy crawlies.

It is gone, he would have said, if he was not interrupted by the squeal of another little voice. A foot below, Tommy flailed his arm wildly, and a little something careened and collided with the bedframe. There was the offending spider, all gangly limbs and jerky movements while making a mad dash from the danger, a sight now unfamiliar to Spy. In a swift movement, he had its abdomen pinched between gloved fingers. It wriggled with all its might before he disposed of it in a tissue, and then the wastepaper basket by the door. 

“I’m making breakfast. Be ready.” which was only a formality.

December 5, 1987: 6:55

Peace on earth existed for ten minutes each morning, when Spy quietly worked on breakfast while Tanya worked on her book as she waited. Idly, Tanya’s finger toyed with the edge of To Kill a Mockingbird . Parallel to her, Spy fussed between stirring the pot and preparing the mix-ins for each bowl. 

A splash of milk in the bowl for Tommy and Tammy, plus a glass for each while he had the jug out. Tammy absolutely refused any large chunks of fruit, so he mashed the handful of blueberries with the back of a fork. For Tommy and himself, he left them whole.

A spoonful of strawberry jam would later turn Todd’s bowl of oatmeal pink, and he knew that would be enough for him. He stirred, it was cooked by now, and filled a couple glasses with water. Heat killed, Spy reached for a little ceramic dish, and then for the highest shelf in the cupboard.

Jeremy’s bowl received a small splash of milk and the faintest drizzle of honey. On the side, a glass of water and a little dish of AM pills. The heart, pain, and renal medication met the bowl with a satisfying clink.

Now that left one bowl.

“Is there anything you’d like?”

“ I’d like to see pa at the table in the morning again, maybe with a side of Tam-Tom being quiet for once?”  Spy sighed. Her frustration had only multiplied as the weeks passed, and it seemed she could only catch her father for minutes a day when he wasn’t asleep or when she wasn’t at school. “But I could settle for a nice tall glass o’ make my English teacher stop making us do so much stuff .”

Junior high and an increasingly absent father had been tough on Tanya, but Spy knew she was tougher. The least he could do was make himself an unapologetic ally, listen to her woes whenever she came to him. It had taken them this far, through years of babysitting and now indefinite residence, and he had no intention of stopping now.

“Let me see about that one. Hmm.” Spy made a show of looking through the refrigerator, then the pantry, then the cupboard. “Ahh, I’m afraid I used the last of the ‘quiet kids’ mix last night. As for the ‘lighten the workload juice’, I believe– oh, did you hear that?” Spy noted, in perfect flatness while Tanya was failing to suppress her amusement. In a couple strides, he made it to the door and opened it.

“Now let us see this,” Spy murmured, leafing through the newspaper, serious facade unwavering as he read the headlines aloud. “Unimportant, weather, unimportant again, oh, how interesting…” he peeked up from the page, pleased to see Tanya fully invested in his bit. “This news story, ‘Local English instructor, assassinated!’ No leads, no fingerprints,” he peeled his gloves off and set them down next to the paper, “all classes to be postponed indefinitely!” At this time, Tanya’s book was flat on the table as an unfettered laugh streamed from her lips. Victory. 

Spy glanced back down for a quick moment, “Ah, but breakfast is not. What would you like to have, genuine requests only please, unless you’d like to take some plain oats.” After the girl’s laughter had trailed off, she considered, and piped up: “Cinnamon! And brown sugar in it too!” Now that was doable. He was happy to add a dash of cinnamon and a conservative spoonful of sugar to her immediate chagrin. 

“What, that’s nuthin’! You could’nt’a added a little more?” She pouted. “Non, I’m not in the habit of serving sweets in the morning.” which earned him a melodramatic slump from her. He sighed. Spy was becoming weak in his old age. “And I will remain firm in my decision. Oh. What is this. It looks like the oatmeal is ready to plate. I will now turn around, and since this matter is so urgent, I will leave the spoon in the sugar.” Which wasn’t entirely a joke. 

December 5, 1987: 7:13

“Can we go watch cartoons?”

“Yes-”

“Can we go now?”

“Have you finished your breakfast?”

“No-”

“Non.”

“But you said-”

“I would have said yes, when you finish eating.”

“Why?”

“You could tip your bowl on the couch, and I won’t clean it up.”

Todd conceded, and switched tactics to shoveling as many oats as he could eat at once. On the other side of the table, Tommy was falling asleep into his bowl while Tammy went on about nothing entirely discernible. Tanya, thank god, was taking care of the cleanup. Spy had already cleared his ingredients, so there were only the dishes to attend to. First the cooking pot, followed in quick succession by the first two bowls. She had to scrape bits of residual mush from Tommy’s bowl, but Todd and Tammy had practically cleaned theirs for her.

And then. 

“Pa’s stuff’s gonna be cold…” Tanya muttered, looking at the last dish. Spy cautioned a glance behind him, the kid in a clear struggle of indecision. He came to meet her, true to her words his fingers met a bowl barely above body temperature. Hmm. “I guess I will just have to bring it right away.”

He got to go, at which point Tanya wasted no time taking the glass of water and dish of medicine. “I got it, don’t worry!” She said, as though she needed an excuse. Spy let it happen. They made their way down the hallway, which he couldn’t help observing each time he walked down it. Dozens of frames lined the walls, little snapshots of their lives slowly connecting. There were most of the kids by far, and the stark contrast between the pigtailed toddler to the young woman before him might have given him whiplash so bad he would have dropped the water if he was the one holding it. 

He was forever grateful that Jeremy had taken so many pictures of all of the children, it filled in the seven year gap, and when he looked at them it was like he hadn’t missed a moment. Of course, pictures couldn’t compare with memories, but it was another thing entirely when they coincided. Todd’s smile of pride as he correctly guessed 1,782 jellybeans was just as infectious as that day. 

Naturally there were plenty of pictures of Jermey, granted, less pale. 

They made it to his door, and Spy turned the knob with his free hand. The bedroom was spacious, and the bed was too large for one. There were even more pictures, of Jeremy himself, of his mother, of him, of his friends, of his children most of all. A picture of Jeremy from his mercenary days was accompanied by a clock which read 7:22, and a tear-away calendar which read December 4, 1987. The practical decor clashed with the seven Tom Jones posters, but whatever made him happy, Spy told himself. 

Right now though, he was laid on his side tangled up in some sheets. It seemed that he didn’t hear the door open. 

“Jeremy?” “Pa?”

Spy set down the bowl on the nightstand, and Tanya mirrored his movement. He would have to be woken up, it seemed. She looked near ready to do it herself, but it had been too many times that Spy had to remind her to be gentle. He would have to do it himself.

Spy sat on the vacant side of the bed, the one that might have been occupied by a spouse if that sort of love decided to stay with him. “Jeremy,” he repeated, to no response. In  perfect carefulness, he connected his hand with the once sticking out of the bedding, perhaps the tactile input would rouse him like several mornings before. 

A backstabbed Sniper on his shoulder. The gibs of teammates fallen to an enemy Demo. Gray Mann. Years of mercenary work. Jeremy fourteen years ago, still moving, that slowed in his arms. A coldness and a stiffness that could never be mistaken was found in his son’s hand. 

A tiny squeak behind him. Tanya, clever and perceptive Tanya. Why did she have to come? 

“Is he okay..?” and the wavering of her little voice near made Spy lose composure entirely.

“I believe he has a fever.” he decided, and pressed a palm to his frigid face. “Merci, Tanya, but I would not want you to become ill as well.”

“What about you?”

“Please, you had better worry about your siblings instead. Make sure they have not destroyed the living room. Leave your father to me, yes?” Tanya, in her childish trust, only looked once over her shoulder as she walked out the door. 

December 5, 1987: 7:51

“My friend, you must remember that Herr Mundy’s case was a very special one–I had begun work almost immediately, a near infinite budget, all necessary parts on hand, a fully stocked infirmary–even if I flew out this very minute I doubt I could replicate my results.”

“I understand.”

 “Do you really?”

“I understand.”

“I am very sorry.”

“I understand.”

The telephone slotted neatly back in place. The room was cold. The bowl was cold. The bed was cold, except for the part Spy was sitting. The blanket cast aside when he searched for any sign of life certainly was not doing Jeremy any favors. That would never do.

With the fabric draped over him, he could pretend. Pretend that he was the grandfather when Tommy and Tammy played house. Pretend that he hadn’t seen the effects of gravity pooling blood to the parts of Jeremy’s body that rested against the mattress. 

A mad giggle and excited squeal from across the hall. What was the game of choice this week again?

“Boom!” Todd shouted. Right. This week they were outlaws in the southwest, two against two. 

“Wait, what town isn’t big enough for both of us?” Tommy scratched his head. He always preferred a more thorough worldbuilding in his pretend play. 

“How about…” Todd fiddled with his toy sword, “Teufort New Mexico! Y’know, like the place on papa’s mail!” At that point, he charged right for his brother, who jumped a foot in the air.

That day, Spy recalled, Jeremy was busy in the kitchen fixing himself another cup of coffee, but was quick to join in the fun. 

Spy had lingered alone in the room long enough, he decided. The little ones would soon look for a new playmate, and perhaps he could distract them from the fact that he was the only one who could. 

[aishangotome]

[Silvio] A Love Tailored To You Part 2

Credit to @shatcey for providing the video upload.

When I asked him about last night's events, Carlo thought for a moment and then––

Carlo: You were very drunk.

Carlo: Tanzanite liquor really doesn't agree with some people.

Emma: It seems like I'm one of those people...

Emma: By the way, what happened after the party?

Carlo: Prince Silvio took you back with him.

Emma: Was I... different then? Like a different person?

Carlo: Hmm, well, you were certainly more affectionate with Prince Silvio than usual.

Carlo: But I don't know about being like a different person.

Emma: Is that so...?

(So Silvio took me back to my room after that. I'm sure that's where...)

Silvio: You don't remember? You were incredibly erotic and bold, like a different person.

(Ugh, how embarrassing...)

Carlo: Ah, speaking of which, last night Prince Silvio was unusually––

???: Asking other people about yer drunken antics, huh? You've got interesting hobbies.

Emma: !

Just as I heard a jingling sound from the end of the hallway, Silvio came striding towards us.

Silvio: Chattin' in the hallway, huh? Looks like you have too much free time, Carlo. If you're saying you don't have enough work, I can give ya more.

Carlo: No, it's fine! I'll get back to work. Excuse me!

Carlo bowed and then dashed off like a rabbit.

Silvio: So, did you find out what you wanted to know?

He put his arm around my waist as if to say he wouldn't let me escape, and gave me a mischievous smile.

It felt like he was peering into the depths of my mind, trying to access the memories of last night that seemed to be sealed away, and my heart skipped a beat.

Emma: I learned that I was very drunk last night.

Silvio: Anything else?

Emma: I heard that you took me back to my room.

Emma: Thank you.

Silvio: Well, if I had left a drunkard at the venue, it would have been troublesome.

Silvio: But thanks to that, I got to see you make a fool of yourself. So we're even.

Silvio gave me a satisfied smile and placed a light kiss on my temple.

(Somehow, he seems to be in a better mood than usual.)

(Is it because last night was so amazing? Does that mean he's usually not satisfied?)

Anxiety sparked in my chest, and at the same time, the uneasy feeling from last night returned.

Even when I saw Silvio being approached by women at the party, I didn't feel particularly jealous.

Rather, I even felt envious.

I thought, if I could be like that, alluring and confident, Silvio would surely be thrilled by a different side of me––

(Maybe that drink made it possible.)

(A bolder, more sensual me that would make Silvio happy...)

(.........)

Silvio: You don't remember anything else?

Emma: Huh?

Silvio's voice brought me back to reality with a start.

Emma: No, I don't remember anything after that.

Silvio: Good.

(.........?)

I felt like Silvio had an expression of slight relief.

(Could it be that there's something inconvenient for Silvio if I remember last night?)

(Like, maybe he was overwhelmed by my boldness and showed a different side of himself...?)

Silvio: What are ya staring at?

Emma: Nothing.

Even as I shook my head, I was making a certain resolution.

-

That night---

I visited Silvio's room, wearing a more seductive negligee than usual, hidden under a gown.

––I masked my embarrassment with strong alcohol.

Silvio: It's unusual for you to come to my room dressed like that. Are you drunk again today?

Emma: Yes. My body aches, and I want you now...

I gently took the glass from Silvio's hand as he sat drinking by the window, placed it on the table, and led him to the bed.

(I won't blush or be shy. Today, I'm a very bold and seductive woman...)

As I told myself this, I pushed Silvio down and tried to take off his clothes, but---

Silvio: You're not that drunk, are you?

(Huh?)

Emma: I-I'm drunk.

I unbuttoned Silvio's shirt and showered his neck with kisses.

His hand slipped into my negligee, moving from my thigh to my buttock, but I managed to keep my expression unchanged.

Silvio: If you're saying you're the same as last night, then of course you can undress yourself, right?

Emma: I can. This is just a hindrance to making love with you.

Still straddling Silvio, I crossed my arms and took off my negligee.

(This is so embarrassing...! But if I back down now, it'll be the same as always.)

With my breasts exposed, I placed both hands beside Silvio's face and leaned over him.

Silvio: So, what are you going to do next? You're not satisfied with just taking it off, are you?

Emma: Of course not.

I took Silvio's hand, placed it on my breast, and kissed him.

Emma: Mmm...

I slipped my tongue between his lips, entwining them, and felt a heat building deep within my core.

Emma: Mm... ah...

As I kissed him hungrily, the hand I had placed on his chest brushed against his nipple.

(Normally I would pull my hand away, but...)

I pressed my hand more firmly against his chest, and as if in reward, his fingertips teased a sensitive spot.

Emma: Ahh... oh...

After a while, our lips parted with a soft sigh.

Silvio: It might be better to take this off too, before it gets soaked.

He lowered my underwear slightly, and I felt the dammed-up honey threatening to spill over.

(Silvio seems completely unfazed. I'm trying to be bold, but...)

I pulled down my underwear along with Silvio's fingers.

Now completely naked, I tried to take off Silvio's pants, but then---

Emma: Whoa!

Silvio sat up and pushed me back down.

He lifted my legs and pressed my knees up near my face, exposing my most private parts.

Emma: W-wait a minute, this position is too embarrassing!

Silvio: You really aren't drunk, are you?

When I flailed my legs, Silvio let go of them with a mischievous laugh.

(Was I really bold enough to accept this position last night...?!)

I hurriedly covered myself between my legs with my hands, the air feeling slightly cool against my skin.

Silvio: Seems like you didn't have enough to drink.

Silvio: Now, move yer hands. Your turn is over.

Emma: Ah...!

He moved my hands away, and his fingertips sank into my thoroughly wet center with a soft sound.

As he stirred inside me, even my resolve to "be bold" melted away––

(As I thought, just being a little drunk isn't enough.)

(That drink I had last night... I need something that will make me lose myself completely.)

After that, I was thoroughly loved by Silvio as usual, and drifted off into a sweet slumber.

-

-- The next day.

Shopkeeper: I do have what you're looking for––but are you the one drinking it, young lady?

I was visiting the tavern that was said to have the largest selection in town, my appearance modestly concealed.

Emma: Yes.

Shopkeeper: I think you should reconsider. Well, you have enough money, so...

Shopkeeper: Here you go, the strongest Tanzanite liquor I have.

.

.

.

.

Part 1 | Part 3

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[footballerimaginess]

Ugly Christmas Jumper

Christmas Prompt 21. Ugly Christmas Jumper Party Mason Mount Word Count: 387 "What about this one?" he asked as he lifted the jumper up to show you. "Hmm not sure if it's ugly enough, I do love that colour though" you say walking towards him.

"Yeah it is a pretty nice colour, but not sure if it would be in the ugly jumper competition. Maybe we should just risk it and order online" he asked you as you were looking through the rail. "That is probably a better idea, right let's go. Can we grab a coffee or something, thirsty work this shopping" he laughed as you grabbed his hand before heading to the coffee shop. Meanwhile back at home, you searched online for the ugliest Christmas jumpers that you could find and that you knew that you were going to love. "Now that may be the ugliest jumper I have ever seen, the colour is so bad. Looks like vomit. So obviously we need it, now what type do you want?" Mason asked you as he hands you the laptop as you begin scrolling the internet. "This one, the crazy cat lady is so me. If only you let me have a cat then hmm" you giggled as you pressed order as you got both of the jumpers for the party at the end for the week, hoping that they arrived. - "They are here" you shouted as you got the package as you waved it in Mason's face. "Let's try them on" Mason told you as he tried it on. "Yep, that is just as ugly as I expected" he laughed as he pulled the jumper over his head. "Oh wow, yeah sorry babe but you can;t even pull that off." you teased. "Hey, that's mean. You try yours on then" he asked as he watched you pull your jumper over your head as you tried it on. "That is kind of cute actually" he smiled. "Thanks babe, right we need to head off because otherwise we are going to be late to this party" you smiled as you finished getting your makeup done. "You look perfect" Mason complimented you before you headed out. "Aw thank you, I am soo ready for this party. This jumper is super comfy too" you laughed as you shut the door behind you, before jumping in the car to the party.

[erebussdarkdesire]

Erebus had been merrily watching the argument unfold and escalate into a fight. And then escalate further when Sage decided to get involved. He'd even gone as far as to seat himself at the half ruined bar, leaning back against it with a large cocktail in hand. One complete with a colourful straw and a little umbrella.

He would have stayed like that, sipping on his drink, till the fight ended one way or another. That was until Sage turned his attention on Emi.

In turn his focus completely narrowed on Sage. In an instant he'd put his drink on the bar and marched right up to him. He had an idea that he probably wouldn't even register him in the state he was in. So he didn't bother trying to call out to him. Instead he stepped into his path, right in front of him. He didn't give Sage time to react before he'd grabbed him. In a flash he'd slammed him into the wall on the opposite side of the room and pinned him against it.

Using his weight and one arm across his chest to keep the younger vampire against the wall, Erebus grabbed his jaw tightly with his other hand. Forcing him to look at him. And making sure he blocked Sage's view of the rest of the room. Hoping he'd focus on him. "Sage," he used his usual voice, not raising it or sounding at all worried. "That's Emi you were about to turn into a chew toy. You know Emi? Perhaps the one person in our seethe you actually like?" he tilted his head, keeping his gaze fixed on Sage's. "So why don't you be a good boy for me. Hmm? Listen to my voice, block the rest of it out and focus on me. And take a breath. I know you don't need to breath but do it for me any way. Come on," he coaxed, "Just a few nice, deep breaths,"

Andre reeled back. Shooting Emilia a venomous look, before giving her a shove away from him to tend to his nose. It was bleeding down his face. And he really hated to be dirty.

With seemingly no effort at all, Wulfe sent Stefan staggering back a step. He muttered something under his breath. Probably in Gaelic which was his native tongue. He really hated having to involve himself with his brother’s temper tantrums. But, this seemed to be inevitable. What with all the party goers gasping and screaming all around them. It was noisy. And Wulfe hated noise unless he was the one making it.

Stefan, too far in his bloodlust, lurched at Wulfe who was now the only one standing between him and Andre.

Wulfe rolled his eyes. “Such tempers.” He muttered. Clapping his hands once and filling the whole hall with light.

The suddenness of it stopped Stefan in his tracks. He reeled back as if the light burned him, like sunlight would.

Andre made a sneezing sound with a grunt of pain. Wulfe spared him a glance before turning his attention back on Stefan who was regaining his bearings.

“Blood for blood.” Wulfe singsonged. He side eyed Enzo and Sage. Enzo had long since given up his flailing and weakening blows on Sage. Who had at this point gotten covered in blood. But it seemed he intended on draining Enzo completely of all his blood.

“Not. Enough.” Stefan growled. Though he didn’t try to step forward. Knowing full well Wulfe had stepped in to control the situation.

“Clearly.” Andre replied from the other side of Wulfe. “Look what you’ve done, Stefano.”

Enzo who had gone extremely white slumped in Sage’s arms.

Sage growled low in his throat. He released Enzo who had gone limp. And was now eyeing Wulfe with interest.

Wulfe sighed. “Andre….”

Andre scoffed being far more interested in his dirty clothing to pay much attention to anything else. “He’ll stop eventually.” He sighed. “That or someone will kill him. Either way. He’ll stop.”

[lokh]

also i think if roleswap laios and canon laios met theyd immediately start fighting.

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

can't forget these losers. mondo n taka

mondo is the ultimate cyclist. he and his brother ran a bike shop that he wants to make the best in the world, which is not related to why he liked biking. he just likes going fast

his brother was in a biking accident. there's some rumors that mondo staged the accident so he could become the ultimate cyclist

he can't have his pompadour because of biking helmets but he dyes his hair still bc it's cool as fuck

taka is the ultimate martial artist. after his grandpa's misconduct brought shame to the family, he decided to try restoring it through the renowned sport of honorable combat

is never not thinking about focus and discipline. tries to hide his relationship to his family in contests and school so that he never wins or loses a match because of rage alone

his grades and school conduct are still really good

[god-of-this-new-blog]

“Sorry that it all went down like it did”

[just-someone-online]

Had this idea for a fic where Ageha picks up on Coco's rancid vibes and tries to convince Nozomi to put some distance between them. Just, like, some gentle nudging and a little advice so as not to come off as condescending or overbearing or anything like that to Nozomi, especially since they don't really know each other that well. I doubt it would cause Nozomi to drop him all at once, but it would be the catalyst for Nozomi to start reexamining their relationship, at least a little.

[pinacoladamatata]

if they Tamlen solas' ass, that might just be IT for me

[mamawasatesttube]

thinking about putting bart in a time loop...

[chrlotpony]

thinking of sunil nighttime cuddling w his "adopted" cobra child before sleep (my oc Milks Nevla).

sunil just has the TV on playing some show he doesn't even know about but he can't change the channel or turn it off bc the remote is out of his reach and he can't move cuz then he'll wake milks up. sunils usually more strict but it was a Friday night in the middle of the month, and milks wanted to watch TV w him despite near bedtime. eventually, sunil sleeps through the background noise

[eliseliedl]

lmfao i defeated the final bosses alone and without arms 😭

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

some witch! earth doodles from lunch yesterday

[whatudottu]

I have a question what were Annie's og parents like(i mean she was willing to run away with five aliens to be her fathers instead so I don't think they might have been the best😬) or maybe they're dead and were good people idk

A lot of the lore is actually written by @sweetpeaches666, who may be tagged under sugarbutterfly432, thanks to Annie technically being a 3 way OC lmao. There has been nothing solidly concrete about Annie's OG parents beyond the fact that she doesn't know her ancestry and she's had many foster homes AND orphanages to live in (plus it'd also be easier legal wise for the Andromeda 5 to adopt her if she isn't officially someone else's kid at the time)

It's actually why she does ballet, one of her foster mothers wanted to recreate her failed dream, turns out it breeds resentment and a lot of running away :P

What can be said is that Annie's been many different homes and in a constant state of transitioning between them, a prime example of being a refunded kid and all that, something something No Roots by Alice Merton yada yada 'oh no that's relatable'. Her birth parents one way or another have never been in her life, though regardless of what actually happened Annie will always believe that they left her behind like like everyone else did :P