#Rubber Production Brushes

[freshthoughts2020]

[sacramentohistorymuseum]

January 23rd is National Handwriting Day! It’s observed every year on January 23rd in recognition of John Hancock’s birthday, the first man to sign the Declaration of Independence.

Prior to the invention of Johannes Gutenberg’s printing press in the 1450s, all documents, even books, were hand written. Printing allowed for the mass production of information. Printing presses were still rare, however. The first press in California arrived in 1835 but Augustín Zamorano was the only printer in California until 1846.

For today, Howard decided to take a different direction for National Handwriting Day. Howard typeset and letterpress printed “Why handwrite something when I can print it?” in 30 point Kaufmann Bold font. This font was selected because the type mimics cursive handwriting. The Kaufmann style of font is a brush script typeface designed in 1936 by Max R. Kaufmann for the American Type Founders. This was printed with black rubber base ink using our Washington hand press.

[catscidr]

cw: emetophobia. mentionned panic attack and intercourse. fluff. hurt/comfort. f!reader. not proofread

“Suguru, can you heat up my microwavable pad?”

“Sugu, can you get me some hair clips?”

“Sugu, can I have water?”

You thought you had it under control; being no stranger to bouts of panic and random waves of nausea, you’ve mastered the art of taking deep breaths and reassuring yourself that the nauseous feeling will eventually pass.

But, as strong as you are, everyone has moments of weakness.

After finally deciding to bite the bullet, you were able to contact a doctor to get a prescription for birth control. From painful period cramps to not wanting to have sex with a condom every time you and Suguru got under the sheets, it felt like the next step to take for your health. You wanted your birth control to help alleviate the cramps that left you bedridden for days and wanted to be able to be intimate with your boyfriend without the stress of possible pregnancy.

All things considered, it’s not like you were completely unaware of the possible side effects of birth control—the infamous pamphlet that could serve as a blanket is pretty hard to miss when you first unbox your prescription.

You’ve spoken to your girlfriends about how nervous you were to start birth control, and they were all as understanding and sweet as one would expect.

After a short pep talk with yourself and your bathroom mirror, you put the patch on your arm and were officially part of the twinkie crew, formerly a toaster strudel.

…in a couple of days. Your doctor informed you to avoid having intercourse without protection for at least five days to let your body acclimate itself to the hormones flowing through you thanks to the patch on your arm.

So now, instead of having a productive afternoon, you’re sat on the cold wooden floor of your bedroom with an empty bucket across of you alongside a cardboard box you meant to throw out that now serves as a makeshift table.

“Here you are, darling.” Suguru places the glass of water on your ‘table’, silently watching how you’re holding up. His gaze lingers on the small patch on your arm, anger boiling in his gut because how dare this piece of rubber hurt my girlfriend like this, but he holds off on removing your source of pain directly knowing that it'd do more harm than good. “How do you feel now?”

You can sense his eyes on you, but you feel so ashamed of yourself for being so panicky over vomiting that you refuse to sit up from your position, all hunched over your plastic emotional support bucket. “Still gross. M’ face feels... tingly.”

He crouches beside you, gently rubbing your back to soothe you. “Do you need me to get you anything else?”

You shake your head after a second of thought, busy focusing on your self-acupuncture massage on the insides of your wrists to think of whatever else could aid your discomfort.

Observing you, Suguru sighs lightly. He sits down on the ground properly and takes ahold of one of your arms himself to replace your thumb with his. Rubbing gentle but firm circles into your tendon, he applies light pressure, and watches your brows furrow in discomfort then relax ever so slightly.

“Focus on calming your heart rate, baby. Can you do that for me? Deep breaths,” he hums softly. Nodding weakly, you try to inhale slowly but a wave of nausea hits you. Your forehead bonks the edge of the bucket and you begin to—almost—hyperventilate.

Your face feels hot, you feel pressure building up your throat and you're shaking like a leaf. “Don’t look at me,” you whimper, weakly pushing Suguru’s face to look off to the side. He ignores your plea and brushes a stray lock of hair away from your face, gently tucking it behind your ear.

“You’re okay,” he muses. “This’ll pass like it always has. The nausea you feel isn’t any different from other times you’ve felt like throwing up; you always ended up fine.“ Suguru stops massaging your arm and places his hand on your cheek. You lean into him, feeling a wave of comfort come from your chest as you keen at the cold touch of his palm.

The corners of his lips curl upward. “Can you swallow?” he asks, bending down to take a proper look at your face.

You try, straightening your back and taking a deep breath before swallowing your saliva. Suguru hums, whispering a quiet good, relieved that you're able to cooperate.

“You know, my mom used to tell me that, if I ever felt nauseous, I should try swallowing. If I was physically able to swallow, then I would be fine.” He rubs his thumb over the apples of your cheek gently, watching your eyes crack open. “There’s my girl,” he hums with a smile.

Nuzzling into his palm, you groan quietly. "Don't look at me, I look gross," you huff. Through the anxiety and nausea, your heart swells at how attentive and patient Suguru is.

The sound of the television in the living room sounds distant from your little bubble with Suguru, lost in whatever trance he held you in. "You're okay," he reassures. "How do you feel now?"

Swallowing once again, you take a deep breath and adjust the heated pad on your abdomen. You take a minute to feel, repeating Suguru's comforting words in your groggy mind.

"I feel... decent," you murmur. "Better."

His shoulders visibly lose tension as he smiles, and he leans forward to press a soft but lingering kiss to your forehead.

"That's what I like to hear. Can you stand?"

Part of you wants to shake your head, to stay sat on the ground and wallow in your despair because Gods your legs felt so numb, but you'd much rather be in Suguru's company than to be left alone with your own thoughts.

You nod, and ever the gentleman, your boyfriend loops your arm around his shoulder to help you stand up. Though your legs are wobbly, he keeps you upright, guiding you to the living room couch.

"Pick out something to watch," he says. "I'll be back with some crackers and your bucket, just in case. Any special requests?"

Leaning back into the cushions, you shake your head as you sigh, content. "No. Jus' need you with me," you hum.

As Suguru flashes you an award winning smile, he eases your worries with the same smooth voice that greets your eardrums every day. "I'll always stay with you, princess."

And you shut your eyes, comforted with the knowledge that, no matter how gross you may feel or how sickly you may be, Suguru won't ever leave your side.

[concreteburialplot]

Banana Spa

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!reader

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 9.6k

summary: you decide to treat your boyfriend to an at home spa day before he leaves for tour again :)

warnings/themes: established relationship, sugary sweet fluff ???¿ who am i??¿, briefly sad??, light sub/dom dynamics, soft dom nick, sub reader, massage, praise kink?, pet names sorry not sorry, bathtub sex, use of a shower head, v fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, orgasm delay, pnv (unprotected), riding, semi-realistic? aftercare, caregiver nick, MUSHY SORRY, again nick has a big fat one, don’t think too hard about the logistics ok, 18+ MDNI

a/n; this originally began as a nice short fluffy piece but... alas, the sad and horny demons took hostage 😅 it's just who i am okay 😭 only sad for a bit though! kinda

a/n: don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

You stamped a knee at each side of Nick’s sides, settling yourself in his lap. His hands instinctively found your hips to have something to anchor to.

“Alright babe you gotta cooperate with me, okay?” You giggled, taking his cheeks in your hands.

He blinked up at you with his aqua eyes gleaming, so enamored with you to even care what you were doing in his lap, simply happy that you were there.

You began brushing hair out of his face and gathering it into a low, untethered bun to expose the entirety of his features. He was beautiful, nothing new to you of course, but at times like then, you couldn’t help but be awe-struck of him. He was yours and you were his.

You reached over to the table beside you to pick up some toner and soaking a cotton round with the liquid. You took it to his face, starting at his cheekbones. He hissed at the coldness of it against his warm skin.

“This smells so… chemically, are you sure it’s safe?” He asked as a half-joke and with a slightly nervous chuckle.

“Very sure my love.” A reassuring grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. “You think I would put harmful chemicals on your pretty face?” You swiped the cotton round down his nose and used it to boop the tip.

A barely visible peach coated his cheeks, if you hadn’t been so close to him, you would’ve missed it.

“I don’t know, maybe you wanna scorch my face off so the fans stop liking me.” A playful smirk draped over lips.

You rolled your eyes and squeezed his cheeks between your fingers, tilting his face upwards to meet your gaze. “Oh honey,” You cooed playfully. “The fans would simp over you even if your nose fell off.”

A true laugh rumbled through his chest and tumbled out of his lips. “Yeah, whatever.” He brushed off the statement as if you just told him the sky was green. “What’s next?” He inquired genuinely, letting his eyes drop back to your arsenal on the table.

“Hmm…” You peered over behind you and tapped your fingertips on your chin. “Oh! Yes, I forgot I got this for you!”

Your fingers plucked a small yellow glass vile. You twisted the lid and squeezed the rubber part between two fingers then released it to let the pipette fill completely.

“Let me know if this smell reminds you of anything.” You slowly and carefully slid the tip of the glass pipette across his cheek, disposing serum along the way.

His nostrils flared and restricted in short consecutive spurts trying to let the aroma fill his nose entirely. His brows knitted for just a second as he processed the smell before his eyes grew sparkly and excited. “Banana?” He asked with hesitancy still lining his words, regardless of the indistinguishable scent.

You giggled and love filled your entire chest at his adorable reaction. “I knew you’d love it.” You sighed happily and utterly love drunk.

“Hm, I love you.” He countered, admiring the pointed, concentrated face you wore as you focused on rubbing in the product. “That stuff’s made from bananas?”

“I love you too baby.” You smiled and leaned down to gently grab his face again, this time to bring your lips to his. A smile curled onto his lips against yours, sweetening the kiss. You couldn’t help but mirror the grin and savor the adoration. “Hm, I think banana enzymes or something? I don’t really know.”

You straightened back up in his lap again, using your curled index finger to tilt his chin up and swivel his face from one side to the other analyzing his skin.

“Admiring your work?” He laughed, feeling a little silly and a little insecure from being studied so closely.

“Just trying to see if you have any spots that need a little extra attention.” You hummed. “But surprise, surprise the man that only uses face wash has perfect skin.”

His chest puffed out a little involuntarily, as if you just invigorated him with newfound confidence after being so foolishly insecure. “Well, would you look at that.” He smirked.

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved him off jokingly before reaching to pick up a thin packet from the table. “Still gonna make you do a face mask though.”

He groaned, “No, no not the clay stuff again.” He winced at the memory of the chalky mud you had once put on him that somehow ended up all over his hair…and eyebrows, and ears, and fingernails, and ʘ necklace, and his favorite Paul Rudd Fanclub shirt.

The Great Face Mask Incident of 2023™️

You couldn’t help but laugh at the same memory. “No, no. I would never put you through that again.”

Nick let out a relieved sigh as if he had just gone through some war flashbacks. “Thank god.”

“No, I think you’ll quite like this one.” You pressed your lips together to not give away just excited you were to show him the mask you had in store for him.

You carefully pulled the folded sheet mask from the packet, letting any excess drip back into the pouch before setting it to the side. You then began delicately unfolding the thin fabric of the mask. Nick’s brows knitted together, and his head cocked to the side slightly like a confused puppy as he tried to gather what sort of potential torture device you were preparing for him. Finally, you unveiled the round sheet with the likeness of a cartoon tuxedo cat.

His silver eyes lit up the second he realized. “It’s Jerry!” It melted your heart at just how wide his smile got, all toothy and reaching his eyes.

You giggled and nodded, “It sure looks a lot like him, doesn’t it?”

Once you were able to keep him from wiggling around, you put the mask on, tugging it here and there to get it taut and symmetrical.

“There, now you look just like your son!” You chuckled behind your hand, looking at how adorably ridiculous your boyfriend looked.

He smirked as much as could beneath the mask, “Yeah where do you think he got his good looks from?”

You rolled your eyes and gently smacked his arm but there was no malice behind either action, “At least Jerry has humility.”

He gazed up at you with a small, sweet smile painted on his lips and love coating the soft curves of his features. “Yeah, that he got from you.” He said casually, like it rolled off his tongue without even thinking twice about it.

Your heart swelled so big in your chest that it was threatening to breach your ribcage. Nicholas had Jerry long before you entered the picture but since getting together a little over a year ago, Jerry had become your biggest fan. Since day 1 he followed you around everywhere and if you were resting on any surface, he was there to claim you as his temporary bed. In your time together Nick had never once even joked about you being Jerry’s other fur-parent. It was a small frivolous thing, but you knew the weight it held. You didn’t know if he had just said it without realizing or if he truly meant it, but in your heart, you were choosing to believe the latter. Either way you opted out of making a big deal about it.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” You gasped at your own brain urgently reminding you of a crucial step. You nearly leapt off him and bolted to the kitchen. Within seconds the project at hand was executed and ready for placement.

You scurried back over to him, this time standing behind his seat on the couch. “Alright, close your eyes and tilt your head back.”

“You got it boss.” He teased and did as you asked. It made you wonder just how much he’d cooperate with taking other orders – but that was a daydream for a much different day. “Cucumbers?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You held back a giggle and placed two banana slices over each closed eyelid. “Okay, all done!”

His nose scrunched up towards the objects on his eyes, “Bananas?!”

You finally let out the laugh you’d been holding back and placed a kiss atop his head. “Now you got all your favorite stuff, cats and bananas!” You circled around his seat and climbed into his lap again.

“And you.” He smiled softly while his callused hands instinctively found your hips again.

Your cheeks heated up and your stomach filled with butterflies. No matter how silly he looked, he could always get you to melt in his hands. “Oh, shut up.”

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” He asked.

Your grin faltered a bit at his question, and you paused to think about your answer. You let your hand fall gently just below his neck, sliding down slowly while your fingers softly laced beneath the silver chain of his necklace. You let the thorny pendant rest on your fingers as you admired it. As much as you hated the calm before the storm and selfishly despised the reason for it, you knew it’s what you signed up for and what brought him the most joy. Your thumb ran over the thorny crown, grateful for the amount of time you’d been able to spend with him during this break. This was maybe your 3rd or 4th run at him leaving for tour and while you could tell that it was getting easier, it was extremely slow progress. It seemed as though each time felt like the first time all over again. Your eyes fluttered closed in a feeble attempt to tame the burning in your eyes and the tears threatening to appear. You took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in your throat knowing that letting him see you like that would not only ruin the moment but make him feel guiltier than he already did, which was exactly the opposite of what the activity meant to accomplish.

“Baby?” He pressed after you’d gone silent for a bit.

You cleared your throat and blinked the tears away, forcing a smile onto your face so that it could be heard in your words. “Sorry love,” You wrapped your hand around the pendant just hard enough that the thorns stabbed into your palm, perhaps hoping that the pain could force the ache away, or maybe in hopes that if you stamped yourself hard enough with him, he could always stay with you. “Just got distracted. What did you ask?”

“I asked why we’re doing this? I feel really silly right now.” He laughed, though a little less bright than before. You hoped that he hadn’t picked up on your energy shift.

“Oh, um,” You looked down and released the hold on his necklace, letting your palms rest on his chest. “Just wanted to pamper you a little, before you have to go work so hard.” You tried your best to keep your voice light, but the sadness in your voice was unmistakable, at least to Nicholas.

His smile fell into a small frown, and it made you wish you had just lied, but you were never much of a good liar, especially not to him. He reached up pulling the banana slices off his eyes and placing them on a paper towel on the table. Somehow, he looked even goofier with the bananas off his eyes.

You suddenly felt flushed under his gaze – regardless of the cat mask still adorning his face. It was unclear whether it was the normal affect he had on you that was making you blush, or rather the vulnerability he’d caught you in.

“Baby,” He let out a sad sigh, “Is that what this is about?” His hands moved up to envelope your hips again, rubbing small comforting circles into the flesh beneath your shirt.

You shook your head vehemently, “No, no, I’m just tryin’ to spoil you honey, you deserve it.” You tried for a smile but couldn’t quite reach.

It was clear in his eyes that he wasn’t buying it. “Oh, let me get this cursed thing off of me.” He said, his hands already going to peel up the edges of the sheet mask but failing miserably.

A grin did pull at your lips watching him struggle and decided to take over. “Here, let me do it.” You laughed, gently swatting his hands away and pulling it off yourself and setting it on the table next to the forgotten bananas. “For someone who’s so good with his fingers, that sure was hard for you, huh?” You teased, attempting to deflect from the seriousness you’d just caused. All you wanted to do was go back to the soft, happy bubble you’d created before.

His inked hand trailed up your body to cup your cheek. “I’m gonna miss you so much, you know that right?”

You rolled your eyes trying your best to hold up your strong exterior, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, we don’t have to do this. We don’t have to talk about it, okay?” It took every bit of energy you had to yank each edge of your lips into a smile.

“Hey, don’t do that.” He frowned. “Maybe I wanna talk about it?”

“But you dooon’t though.” You whined, pressing on his chest slightly. “We were having a good time and I ruined it.” You whispered. Your eyes fluttered down to where your hands met his abdomen, faintly crinkling his faded Slipknot shirt between your fingers.

“Hey.” His hand found your chin and tilted it back up to face him once more. “I’ll be back before you know it.” He reassured the obvious.

“I know.” You mumbled and found your eyes dropping once again, not bearing the strength to look at him for too long. “I know what I signed up for. I know that it’s part of loving you.” Your hand rediscovered his necklace, flipping it between your fingers for comfort.

“Just because it’s part of the deal, doesn’t mean it’s not hard, y/n.” His voice was more firm that time, trying to cement the severity of his words.

“I know.” You groaned, frustrated that he wouldn’t just drop it.

He sighed, “I’m just saying it’s okay to be upset about it. And it’s okay to talk to me about it.” His thumb grazed over your cheekbone, enticing you to look at him. “We’re a team, remember?”

You released a long exhale finally relaxing a bit under his touch. “I know, Nicky, I know. I just didn’t want you to feel guilty and,” Your hand went up to wrap around his wrist and your eyes darted somewhere far away from him. “I didn’t want you to think that I can’t handle it.” Before he could respond your fingers gripped his wrist harder and the burning in your eyes returned. “I can handle it, I can.”

The crack in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by the male and all he wanted to do was scoop you up in his arms, but he knew better than to smother you when you were that emotional. “I know you can baby.” He said gently, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that was on the verge of escape. “I never questioned that. And if I ever do, then we’ll work through it,” He gently tapped the side of his thumb on your cheek to bring your attention back to him. “Together. Okay?”

You nodded against his palm, nuzzling into his touch. “Together.”

“That’s my girl.”  He smiled and pulled you down into a sweet kiss.

You pressed your forehead against his gazing into his eyes, tonight they were particularly grey. “You’re too good to me.” You said so quietly that if he wasn’t nose-to-nose to you, he wouldn’t have heard it.

He shook his head as much as he could without disturbing the moment, “No, I’m not good enough.”

“That’s not tr-“ You began but were quickly interrupted by his lips on yours again.

“Ah, ah.” He hummed once he pulled away, “I won’t be taking any back talk.”

Your cheeks burned bright cherry red that time, no amount of makeup could conceal it. Even though his words were light, you knew he wasn’t joking. Nicholas was an expert at imbedding dominance in featherlight touches and sweet nothings.

“Yes sir.” You replied instinctively.

The energy spiraled between you two had shifted from silly to emotional, to something entirely different now. His hands trailed up your sides beneath your shirt to rest both on your lower back.

“C’mon, you took such good care of me, now it’s your turn.” Without giving you any warning he scooped you up. You squeaked at the sudden action but instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

“Where are you taking meeee.”

“Well, we’re having a spa day, aren’t we? What’s a spa day without a bubble bath?”

You melted into him, loving the idea of a warm bath accompanied by him.

Nick began drawing the bath making sure to add all your favorite additives as you stood patiently waiting instruction. Once he was satisfied with the way the tub was filling, he sat on the edge and beckoned you over. “Come here angel.”

Your cheeks flushed with warmth at the name, taking a couple steps to stand between his legs. He began tenderly undressing you until you were completely bare in front of him.

He wasn’t shy with the way his eyes wandered down your body. “God you’re beautiful.” His words riding an infatuated exhale.

The strawberry pink already present on your cheeks only worsened. “Shush.” You wave off his compliment and used your arm to cover your chest.

He stood and took your chin between his index and thumb tilting your gaze up at him. “I won’t ever stop reminding you of how stunning you are.”

You shook your head out of his grasp. “Shut up Nicholas.” You said shyly.

He took your cheek in his grasp instead this time, getting more control of you. “What’s wrong baby? Am I getting you all flustered?”

You were sure your face was beet red now. “C’mon Nicky, stop messin’ around, the bath is getting cold.”

A satisfied smirk tugged one edge of his lips, finding amusement and pride in your blatant embarrassment. “As you wish princess.” He began to undress himself until he was matching your nude attire.

Your eyes did the same as his did earlier and raked down his body, lean and inked on almost every bit of him. You’d been with him for over a year and you still managed to find new tattoos on him that you’d never seen before. His body was a spectacular and endlessly interesting museum only you had the key to.

He didn’t wait for you and stepped over the porcelain into the large oval tub, letting his body sink down into the steaming water. Almost instantly your exquisite museum was engulfed in mountains of bubbles. “Well, you comin’? You were the one complaining about water ‘getting cold’.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes and cautiously dipped your toe into the water. You hissed and recoiled at the scalding temperature. “Fuck that’s hot.”

Nicholas chuckled at your reaction, “Still think it’s getting cold?”

“Shut up.” You mutter.

“Just take it slow baby, let your body get acclimated to the water.” He sounded patient but his eyes didn’t match – the longer you were under his gaze, the more you felt like an animal of prey being stalked.

After a bit of time getting your lower body get used to the water you were finally able to sink down between his legs and rest your back against his chest. A small sigh of relief left your lips at the feeling of soothing comfort with him. No matter the problem or hindrance, Nick always made everything okay. He made you feel safe and taken care of in a way you’d never felt before. Getting that feeling from a rockstar who’s constantly touring wasn’t something you ever imagined possible, but somehow, it was with him. It took a while for him to earn your trust, especially at the very beginning, the first time he toured just a month or two after making things official. But he made sure to prove his faithfulness in a multitude of ways – from sharing his location to sending pictures and videos frequently to even sending you flowers or other small gifts to let you know he was thinking of you. Life with Nicholas wasn’t perfect, but it was a dream.

His fingers first found your shoulders, digging his thumbs into the wound-up tense muscles at the base of your neck.

“Mmm.” You hummed at the sensation and leaned further back against him. “That feels so good baby.”

“Yeah?” He asked, kissing the side of your head.

“Mhm.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you sank a little further into the water.

He spent some time working through the knots in your neck and shoulders. Wherever he pressed his fingertips felt like he was releasing a world of tension.

“That’s it, just relax.” His hands drifted down past your shoulders and onto your sides, using his thumb to rub circles into the muscles of your back - as best he could in your position anyway.

As his hands trailed lower you felt a flutter fill your tummy and settle in your core. You didn’t even realize you were squirming until his hands found and gripped your hips hard. “Stay still.” He ordered quietly just below your ear.

A shiver ran through you at his gravelly voice stealing the air in your throat. You did as he said, as much as you could, and hoped it’d be good enough for him. His fingertips lowered, beginning to run up and down the curves of your hip bones. The close proximity of his fingers to your core was starting to make you dizzy. You sucked in a harsh breath when his hands traveled further down to massage your thighs. His fingers were diligent and determined with their placement and tempo, using his thumb to rub tight circles into the flesh of your upper inner thigh. There’s no way he couldn’t feel you nearly vibrating under his touch, and you had to restrain yourself from grabbing his hand to put him where you needed him the most.

You felt his lips curl into a sinister smile against your neck. “What’s wrong princess?” He asked condescendingly. “Am I not helping you relax?”

“No, no. You are.” You almost stutter out, trying to sound as confident as possible.

“Hm.” He hummed, gliding his fingers up the inner side of your thigh. “I wonder… what you do when you get all wound up like this when I’m away?” There was an edge to his question that erased any indication of genuine curiosity.

Your eyes widened at the question and your mind went fuzzy blank. “Well…I…um.” Was all you could get out, pathetically.

“Oh, c’mon baby.” He lowered himself to just below your ear. “Use your words for me. Tell me what you do.”

Your heart felt like it was colliding against your ribcage incessantly while simultaneously pooling your rampant pulse in your clit. “I-I,” You took a breath in a feeble attempt to steady your breathing. “I touch myself.” You blurted out, knowing it was both the truth and what he wanted to hear.

You didn’t need to look at him to know how wide and proud his smirk was.

“Good girl.” He hummed. “Why don’t you show me where you do that?”

Your eyes widened once again, this time swallowing all the saliva available in your mouth. Hesitantly, you reached out beneath the water and took hold of his wrist, bringing it between your legs. “Here.”

He used his hand to slowly cover and cup your core before carefully running his fingers through you. You wanted to whine at the small sensation but knew how pathetic you’d sound. “Thank you for showing me baby.” He acknowledged your obedience. “But I want you to show me exactly what you do.”

You’d show him anything at that point to keep his fingers on you, so you nodded and covered his hand with your own. You guided him to your clit that was buzzing and begging for his attention. Your middle and ring fingers pressed into his and prompted them to start moving in circular motions.

“Mmm.” He pressed a kiss to your neck before nipping at the skin like a predator taste-tasting his meal. “That feels good doesn’t it?”

Your head lulled itself on his shoulder, already getting lost in the pleasure blooming at his fingertips. “Mhm.” You mumbled with drooping eyelids.

He took control of the movements almost instantly, starting a display of one of his many talents. He let you savor his actions for a bit, knowing that the further gone you were, the more pliable you’d be in his hands. “Is this all you do baby? Or is there somewhere else you touch?” He asked already knowing the answer, just wanting you to say it.

His plan worked, as it always did, and you were nothing but an obedient ragdoll for him now. Every cell in your body wanted to bend to him – he had magic in his touch, you were completely certain of it.

Without any verbal response you just guided his working hand down to your entrance. That’s all the convincing he needed and carefully slipped two fingers into you. He let out a small, low groan the feeling of how tight you were around his fingers. You could feel his already hardening cock throb against your lower back. The sensation of his member against your skin while he was using his fingers to fuck you was bittersweet because now all you wanted was his cock filling you up instead.

“God you’re so fucking tight.” He nearly growled against your throat. “I’m gonna miss burying myself in your pretty cunt.”

You felt like you could disintegrate into thin air from how good you felt – yeah, his fingers working magic was one thing, but his words melted you completely. Being complimented and wanted, no – needed – by him was a high that no orgasm could ever touch.

“I need your cock, Nicky please.” You whined without caring how desperate you sounded. “Please, I need you.”

“Oh bunny, you know better than to rush me.” He tsked before moving to do something you didn’t expect. He kept his one hand fucking his fingers in and out of you rhythmically while curling in ever so slightly but brought the other back down on your throbbing clit.

A gasp left your mouth as he effortlessly used both hands to fuck you in the most delicious way. You had already been close just from his fingers curling right into your sensitive spot but now with his fingers rolling against your nub you were seconds from oblivion.

“Fuck.” You spat out urgently. “Fuck, fuck, I’m close – s-so fucking close.” You whimpered out, squeezing your eyes closed trying to keep from coming undone before you were allowed. “Fuck baby, please let me cum. Please can I cum?”

All he did was hum an “mhm” against your neck before you were seeing stars. Tingles seared across your body and your walls pulsed around his fingers.

“That’s it, cum all over my fingers like the good girl you are.”

The praise only intensified the orgasm, causing your back to arch from him. Your face lulled into the crevice of his neck letting him vividly hear all the noises you were making for him. Nick loved your noises as much as you loved his words – he made a mental note to record you next time so he could have something on the road. He could get off on the sound of you alone.

He gently pulled his fingers from you and slowly tapered his action on your clit, but not completely. He retained an agonizingly slow pace on your now overly sensitive nub. He kept the pace slow enough so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable for long until you started to feel good again.

You felt him reaching beside you for something but were too fucked out to pay attention. “Tell me baby, have you ever used this to help relax?” His voice was buttery smooth like blue suede.

Your brows furrowed above your closed eyelids, wondering what he was referencing. When you blinked your eyes open, they rounded to see him holding the detachable showerhead and was suddenly grateful for the extra-long cord you’d opted for. You shook your head and answered honestly. “No.” You’d always been curious but never actually tried.

Nicholas was an expert at knowing when you were lying so he believed you. “Here.” He tenderly scooped up your hand, cupping it in his own like a spoon. With a flick of his other thumb on the showerhead, a crazed stream of patterned water jutted from it. He brought it to the hand he was holding and let the stream hit your palm. “Is that too strong?” He questioned genuinely wanting to know your comfort level.

As much as the strength of the water inspired some more flurries in your core, you nodded shyly. “Too strong.” It was typical for your responses to become minimal once you entered any level of subspace. Having that amount of trust to even fall into that headspace was a luxury you only ever found with Nick. Trusting him was easier than you’d like to admit, it came as naturally as breathing air into your lungs.

“Okay.” His thumb spun the filter onto another setting. “How about this one?” He questioned even though he figured it would be a no since it was thin streams of water lining an empty tunnel.

That one made you giggle and shake your head since it obviously wouldn’t provide much pressure. Nick smiled at your adorable giggle, filling his chest with so much warmth and love, he had no idea what to do with it all. He pressed a kiss to your head before flipping to another setting.

A perfectly tempered stream danced in your palm – not too strong, not too weak, and the jet pattern was an enticing rhythm. You bit down on your bottom lip and nodded. “Good.”

Nick’s free hand found your tummy, pressing it flat against your stomach and slid down painfully slow between your legs. Your breath caught in your throat at the anticipation of his touch. He tenderly spread your legs further apart before using his fingers to spread your lips apart, baring you open so that the jet stream of water could land precisely where it was needed.

“Now sweetheart,” He began. “You were so good for me. You did as I asked, you used your words, you asked for permission.” He lowered the shower head into the water, and you felt the jet stream hit your thigh. It was stronger than you expected and suddenly both fear and excitement pooled in your core. “I want you to know that this is a reward. This is what good girls get. Do you understand?”

Your cheeks grew warm, and your breath hitched in your throat at his words. Before you had time to properly prepare, the strong pressure of the stream pummeled into your sensitive nub. You let out a loud squeak as intense pleasure coarsed your body and down your limbs.

“Baby. I asked you a question. Do you understand that I’m allowing you to feel this good? That this is a privilege?”

Your hands gripped his thighs at each side of you and nodded your head enthusiastically, “Yes sir, I do.” You barely got your words out past your heavy breathing.

He smiled against your neck, “That’s my girl. My best girl. Now what do you say?”

Your heart flooded with lovey pride and your brain filled with nothing but him. He encompassed your very being, every cell of your composition belonged to him. “Thank you.” Your head fell back on his shoulder as he brought the shower head closer to your cunt, only intensifying the pressure. “Thank you, thank you.” You repeated like a prayer.

“God, I can’t wait to fill that pretty pussy up with my cock.” The end of his words resembled something like a growl.

His evident need for you went straight to your stomach, helping to weave a knot that was ready to snap. You were surprised you’d lasted this long since this was easily one of the best feeling you’d ever felt. Knowing that something as convenient as a shower head held so much power was dangerous, especially now that you associated it directly with him.

The jet propulsion on your clit was deliciously brutal, each wave hitting you harder than the last as your sensitivity increased. Your legs began to tremble from the sheer amount of pleasure building up in your body begging for release. “Nicky.” You heaved out while your fingers dug into his thighs. “I can’t hold it, please.” Your request drenched in utter desperation. “Please let me cum, I need to cum baby please.”

Nicholas hummed at the request, mulling it over in his head. If this were any other day, under any other circumstances, he’d string out your orgasm as far as he wanted, but it was a day of relaxation after all.

“Go ahead,” He whispered, bringing the shower head just a tiny bit closer to nudge you over the edge. “Cum for me, will you? And don’t fight it okay? I wanna hear you.”

And with that, another orgasm blinded you, this one ripping through you more violently than the last. Your entire body was in sparking, euphoric bliss. Curses, screams and moans poured from your throat, all laced with his name.

“Oh, that’s it princess, let it all out for me.”

And you did just that. He kept the stream on your bud through your high and somewhere between his grainy voice talking you through and your overstimulation, another wave of pleasure washed over you. Your throat grew sore from your incessant noises that now probably sounded like gibberish sprinkled with his name.

He slowly drew the metal shower head away from your core to carefully lull you from your high. You were nothing but a heaving, shakey, fucked out mess in his grasp.

“Good job baby.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “You did so good for me.”

A lazy smile spread across your lips and nodded slightly. His warmth was the only thing tethering you to reality.

He let you recover from your orgasms before moving on. His hands found your hips once more and pressed you against him. You felt his own arousal thick and hard against your lower back and it reminded you of the ache between your legs that only he could fill.

“You wanna turn around for me baby?”

While you felt like utter mush in his hands, his offer sparked the potential of having him inside you, and that was something you didn’t plan to pass up on. You nodded and shifted around in the water, letting the liquid slosh around tub even spilling out a bit unintentionally. “Oops.” You giggled.

“Hi angel.” He says softly with a crooked smile painted across his lips the second his eyes meet yours. Sure, he held the reigns in the bedroom and most other areas of your relationship, but it was no secret that you were the one with complete control over him. You made him weak in ways he never imagined being, he would give you anything you wanted if you just batted your lashes at him. He was putty in your hands, and he loved it.

He looked so beautiful, and you suddenly felt scammed knowing that you had your back to him looking like that the whole time. His raven hair had fallen from the makeshift bun from the couch and was now splayed over his shoulders, the ends now damp and pointy. You couldn’t wait one more second without his lips on yours, so you scooped up his face in both hands and met his lips with yours. You broke the kiss to press your forehead against his, wanting to engulf yourself fully in his stormy eyes. “I love you.” You whispered.

“I love you too.” He replied matching your whisper. His hands found your hips again, pulling you towards him – not out of desire to intensify the moment, but simply to have you closer. “God, I love you more than anything.”

Peachy pink dusted your cheeks and the smile that his words brought to your lips was embarrassingly wide. You shied away from him and shook your head, “You’re being silly.” Out of all the grand things in his life, you were sure that you were the least exciting or interesting part.

His hand trailed warm water up your arm to pick up your chin, “I’d never joke about that.” His thumb grazed over your cheekbone, cupping your cheek. “I’m so grateful for the patience you’ve given me, given us. You might be the best thing to ever stumble into my life.”

Every atom in your body begged to mesh with him. It only took one exchanged look between you two for your bodies to rearrange so you could sit on his lap. Your lips collided, followed by a messy display of clashing teeth and hungry tongues. Your passion was fueled only by the blind love you had for him and your desire to prove that his love for you was warranted. Your fingers tangled into the base of his dark hair, tugging at it slightly needing every bit of him entwined with your very molecules. He kept one hand on your hip while the other held tangled in your own wet hair.

As much as you wanted to keep telling him how much you loved him, you couldn’t bear to break away from him even for a second. If you couldn’t tell him, you’d show him.

You rutted your hips up his thighs until you felt the base of his member rest against your bare cunt. He let a groan out into the kiss at the feeling of you against him. One of your hands fell from his hair to his length, your fingers instinctually molded around the silky soft flesh. It never ceased to impress you at just how big he was and no matter how many times you’d had him it never eased the ache of taking him.

His sizeable cock was decorated with bulging veins from the blood that coursed through him. Even though your fingers had grown to be expertly familiar with his anatomy, you still loved exploring him, tracing each vein with your fingertips. This earned you another grunt from somewhere deep in his chest and you pridefully smiled against the kiss.

You finally gave him what you knew he wanted, wrapping a hand around this girth and began palming him slowly. His member had a delicious upward curve to it that helped to reach the deepest and most sensitive part of you. Your mouth was watering at just the feeling of him in your hand – in that moment you could’ve sworn that you would do absolutely anything to have it inside you. It was not a want, but a carnal need.

He finally had enough and pulled from the kiss, “Baby, please.” He breathed out against your lips, his love drunk eyes heavy with lust as he looked up at you. “I need your pussy.” His chest rose and fell in time with yours, needing you just as badly as you needed him.

You nodded quickly against him before lifting yourself up enough to hover over him. Regardless of how much you wanted it, you still had to mentally prepare yourself for the initial pain. Nick helped align himself with your entrance while keeping a supportive hand on your hip bone. You exhaled a deep breath.

Sensing your hesitation, he gave your hip a small squeeze, “You can take it baby, just go nice and slow. We have all the time in the world.” He reassured you, letting you set the pace.

You nodded and carefully began to sink down on him. A hiss escaped your mouth at the way his width stretched you open. Your hand fell to his shoulder for support as you struggled to pull yourself further down.

Nicholas’ eyes couldn’t soak you up enough, he was mesmerized at the sight of you. He wished he could burn it into his brain. “God, you look so fucking pretty taking my cock.”

His compliment only made you more determined to push past the pain and discomfort. When you felt your cervix land on his tip you knew that was as far as you could take him. While you couldn’t reach his base fully, you were still surprised and proud of yourself for being able to take so much of him in that position.

He let out a low groan at the feeling of your cunt tightly enveloping his cock. “You feel so fucking good.”

You expelled a breath then swirled your hips with him still deep inside you. The goal was to adjust to his size before riding him. The stretch burned but you knew it’d sweeten once you started moving.

The way he gazed up at you made you weak and your body gave into him, falling into the crook of his neck. You began placing open mouth kisses on his tattooed throat while your hips started swiveling on him. Light, airy moans tumbled from you lips and onto his neck. His hands gripped your hips tighter, letting out a grunt from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” He groaned, letting his head fall back into the ledge of the tub. “I need you to move baby, I need more.”

You nodded quickly, needing it just as badly. Your hands slipped off him to stabilize yourself on the porcelain ledge. It gave you enough balance to raise your hips up almost fully, before dropping them where he filled you the fullest.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good.” He groaned out, his eyes droopy and drunken by only his love for you.

The praise helped motivate you to keep going even though the stretch burned. But you got to control the pace and the depth you could handle – although part of you wished he did have control so that he would forego any hindrances and use you up fully.

You gained momentum on him, bouncing up and down on his cock. Water splashed everywhere, over the ledge and all over the floor but that was the furthest thing on your mind. The room was filled with moans, grunts and cursed from both of you. You felt the knot beginning to form in your tummy as did he. But his surprises weren’t done yet.

He reached over to where he’d placed the shower head, easily flipping it on to the previous setting. Your eyes rounded as he began to lower it towards the water and you shook your head vigorously. “No, no, no.” You cried. “I won’t last, please, no.”

His other hand drifted down your spine with a feather light touch. “Well, that’s the point sweetheart.” He hummed. “Don’t you wanna cum again for me baby?” He questioned patronizingly. You knew that tone and you knew it meant it wouldn’t be as easy as he was eluding.

He continued his actions and aimed the powerful stream of water directly at your clit. A jolt of pure electricity zipped up your spine and down your thighs. Your entire body shuddered at the sudden and intense sensation. Your fingertips curled into his skin, surely branding claw marks into his flesh. “God, fuck.” You exclaimed loudly, barely able to move.

“Now, baby, remember that cumming is a privilege remember? I could very well leave you all worked up with your pretty pussy clenching around nothing if you misbehave.” He warned. “Do you understand?”

You nodded quickly, slipping your tongue between your lips. But that of course wasn’t enough for him.

His hand tightened on your hip and brought the shower head a bit closer to heighten the sensation. “I believe I asked you a question darling.” His voice deep and raspier than normal. “Do you understand? You know I need to hear it.”

“Yes,” You shuddered out. “Yes, sir. I understand.” You couldn’t seem to catch your breath, the air in your lungs completely vacant. Your heart thumped so hard against your ribcage you thought it might shatter and burst in front of him and splinter his own chest.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Now, I don’t remember telling you that you could stop moving.”

You whined in near agony, squeezing your eyes shut and slowly beginning your movements again. “Fuck.” You lulled your head back, buzzing pleasure spreading through every bit of you.

“Faster.” He commanded. “Or I’m gonna make this very unpleasant for you.”

His sweetness was long gone and replaced by the Nick you had grown very familiar with. You’d never guess by his normal relaxed and reserved demeanor that he’d have this overwhelming dominance in bed, but you loved it. It was as though something in him would take over, like he’d try to fight it to stay sweet and romantic, but it rarely lost the fight. It was thrilling to watch his internal battle; you’d seen it so often that you had memorized the shift in his eyes and subtle change in his cadence.

You rarely chose to challenge his threats and today was no different, So, you began lifting and dropping your hips against his lap, taking in fully – or as much as you could anyway. His free hand slithered up your side to cup your breast, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp. His stare couldn’t seem to stay on any solid one part of you, darting from your tits bouncing as you moved, to your face contorting with the overwhelming pleasures you were experiencing, to down where you were connecting with him. He looked at you the way people look at monuments or ancient architecture. He didn’t care about a single other wonder in the world because he was convinced you were the only one in existence. You were an art museum to him, every single installation he could study for hours and never grow bored of your beauty and the delicate nature of your soul. He was utterly infatuated with and devoted to you.

It became difficult to continue riding him without getting sloppy from another orgasm building quickly in your stomach. Your clit was buzzing and threatening to tip you over the edge at any moment. The way he filled you up only made it worse – being full of him made the time without him even more empty. You’d never had someone fill you up so much, he made it hard to even clench around him. It was an incredible experience and one that would make having anyone else subpar. He had set the bar so high that it made it impossible for anyone else to measure up to him. If he ever decided he’d had enough of you, you’d spend the rest of your days seeking bits of him in anyone you ever let touch you. He’d certainly haunt you worse than phantom ever could.

Thankfully, from the way his cock throbbed and bounced inside you, told you that he was getting close too. Your heart thumped so hard in your throat that you questioned if you’d even be able to speak.

“I-I’m close.” You whimpered out. “Can I cum?”

He tsked at the request. “Now baby, I taught you better that. You’re forgetting my favorite word. Try again.”

Your palms dug into his chest at his rebuttal. “Fuck.” You closed your eyes attempting to stave off your orgasm. “Fuck, please.” You begged. “God, fuck, please, I need to cum. Please can I cum?”

“Hm.” He feigned a thought. “No, not yet. Hold it.”

You shook your head vigorously, “No, no, no, please I can’t. I won’t make it, I’m so close. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop it.”

“You can and you will.” He said simply. “And if you don’t, you don’t wanna know how much you’ll regret it.”

His face was serious, but you could tell that the excitement was growing in his belly too. You swore that he thrived over your desperation, he loved seeing you squirm and bringing to the edge of your limits. It was sadistic the way he was fueled by your anguish. You don’t know if you’d ever admit it, but you enjoyed being commanded and used like a plaything. Being at his mercy was a thrill you loved chasing, especially knowing he’d always catch you.

You scrunched your eyes closed and bore down on your teeth holding on to the tattered thread left holding you on to your sanity. “Fuck.” You breathed out. It was almost painful how your sensitive nub throbbed beneath the powerful stream of water and how tight the knot in your tummy had grown. His tip assaulting your cervix intensified everything and overbearing pleasure was looming merely seconds way from shattering your resolve. “Fuck, fuck.” You whined. “Fuck, please, please let me cum, I need it so bad. Please I don’t want to disobey you but I’m so close, I need to cum, please – fuck, I can’t hold it, fuck fuck, please can I cum?” Your pathetic groveling was a pitiful display, but it was one that Nicholas could barely handle himself. He could get off from the hymns of your desperation alone.

“Fuck I love when you sound like that.” He groaned. “Fine baby, cum all over my fucking cock.” If he hadn’t been so close himself, he surely would’ve stretched out the torture.

As if you needed anymore help, he brought the shower head even closer. The heightened sensation instantly blinded you, causing your entire body shudder as sparking euphoria bloomed from your core. This orgasm was more powerful than the others due to the delayed pleasure and his length hitting your sensitive spot directly. The moans and curses that left your mouth were vulgar and smeared with the unholy devotion you had for him. Every cell in your body belonged to him just as he demanded it.

Your walls tightly clenching around him was his tipping point. “God, you look so fucking good with my cock so deep inside you.” He growled, gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises behind. “Fuck baby you’re gonna make me cum.”

You were too lost in your own bliss to really hear what he said until you felt his length twitch inside you followed by his warm seed filling your core. If you weren’t so overspent, the feeling alone could’ve sent you into another orgasm – but seeing as you were still working through your own, you weren’t that concerned about it.

As you both came floating down from your highs, he flipped off the shower head and set it to the side ledge. You had fallen on his chest while your heaving chests rose and fell in time with each other’s. His fingertips raked through the slightly damp hair of your scalp. You purred and smiled at the affection gesture.

He grinned at the reaction, “I love you.” His buttery words fell from his lips in a tone just above a whisper.

Nick would never admit it, but he was extremely talented at almost anything he ever picked up. If he gave it a good honest try, it wouldn’t take long for it to become second nature. He never imagined that there would be anything in the world that would come easier than a graphite pencil or tattoo gun or almost any instrument he picked up. He knew his tattoo gun and his favorite guitar like the back of his hand and while he’d never fully believe it, he already knew you that way too. As with everything else, just because he was a master-of-all didn’t mean there were never any bumps or challenges or hardships – pencils snap, tattoo guns malfunction, and sometimes strings don’t want to tune just how you want them - above all else, Nicholas knew that the most. He knew the best things in life were never easy, but that never stopped him before and it certainly wasn’t going to stop him now.

“I love you too.” You muttered sleepily into the crook of his neck.

The satisfaction of inking a particularly difficult design or mastering a challenging new riff could never compare to the feeling he got from hearing you say those words.

“C’mon, let’s get you dry and warm.” He gently patted your hip and you nodded, using every bit of strength in your body to sit yourself upright.

Nicholas was incredible in his element. It’s one thing to be able to take control sexually, but it’s a whole other thing to be able take gentle control outside of that – and he did, effortlessly. He carefully pulled you off him and got you standing on your feet. He only allowed the air conditioning to dance on your skin for a millisecond before he wrapped a big fluffy towel around you. You tugged the terrycloth fabric so tight against your skin that you were sure you’d have imprints of the threads embedding into your skin. When you lifted your leg over the porcelain, you felt the familiar ache between your thighs that always came from loving him. It wasn’t the worst you’d felt, since you had set the pace, but the water supplied no lubrication, and you were definitely feeling the repercussions.

Nick wrapped a towel around his waist and unplugged the bath drain. When he finally made his way back over to you. When you were both barefoot it really emphasized just how much he actually towered over you. The water droplets glistening across his tan, inked skin made him look like a work of art. Your eyes traced his collarbones and landed on the thorny pendent you were fidgeting with before.

“Oh yeah, before I forget.” You didn’t realize what he was doing until he pulled the necklace from neck and gently draped it over your head. It landed way longer on your chest but it didn’t matter. Your fingers found the pendent and immediately rubbed it for comfort.

“I can’t take this.” You claimed, but the smile that had already made home on your face said otherwise.

He smiled and took your jaw into one hand and placed his other hand over yours covering the necklace. “I’ll always be with you now. If you miss me or get anxious just squeeze it, and I’ll be right there with you. Okay?”

Tears burned your eyes, but you were determined to keep it together, the last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of him naked and shivering. You nodded quickly, “Thank you.” You whispered, hiding a sniffle.

“You’re welcome baby.” He said and placed a quick kiss to your forehead.

He gently grasped your shoulders giving them a little rub to warm you up before guiding you back into the bedroom. The edges of his lips dipped into a frown the second he noticed your limping.

“Oh baby, did I hurt you? I knew we should’ve gotten out of the bath-” He always began to panic ramble if he thought he might’ve hurt you or not taken care of you properly.

You giggled at his worrisome nature and placed a finger over his lips. “It’s okay, really.” You reassured and watched his anxiety disappear. “But it does hurt.” Your lips pulled together in a pout. “Fix it?”

A small smile pulled across his lips and he nodded knowing exactly what that meant.

The time after with Nicholas somehow always felt more intimate. He was driven to love you the best way he knew how, and you relished in the safety he wrapped you in. No matter how rough he got in bed, afterwards he always handled you like a freshly plucked gardenia. He was convinced that if he even grabbed you the wrong way you’d crumble. But he loved it, he was sure that if he was put on this earth to do one thing, it was to take care of you.

After applying some numbing cream where you ached the most and getting you into some fresh pajamas, you were finally exactly where you wanted to be. You were tucked right into Nick’s side, cozy under the covers, sharing a pint of pistachio ice cream while watching reruns of your favorite mutual comfort show.

You looked up at him when he laughed at something silly in the show and the glow from the tv illuminated his features beautifully through the darkness. In that moment, he gave you every bit of reassurance you needed to handle him being gone. You were his and he was yours, and as long as you loved him, he’s always come home to you if you let him.

He glanced down at you, catching you in your admiring stare. The edges of his lips pulled taut into a wide, toothy smile.

“Bob’s Burgers is over there you know.” He teased, tilting his head across the room.

You giggled and burrowed your face into his chest. “You’re much more entertaining.”

He chuckled in disbelief, “Am I?”

“Mhm.” You hummed, getting sleepy the second your head touched his chest.

He laughed softly and precariously plucking the empty pint of pistachio from your dozing grasp to put on the bedside table. He pulled you closer to him and tugged the fluffy duvet higher to cover you both.

Before you let sleep envelope you, you felt his fingers tenderly massaging your scalp. “I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too, Nicholas.” You hummed back lovingly, nuzzling into his chest.

Taglist; @neverknoah @lma1986 @baddestomens @deathblacksmoke @philomenie @blacksoul-27 @thcfountain

A/N; Thank you so much for reading, i hope you liked it, lmk if you did<3

[ohitsjustgen]

Miles G Morales (42) x Reader

Inspired by a photo on Pinterest

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"Boy if you don't stop moving I swear."

Currently it was a Friday night 7 P.M to be exact and Miles needed his hair re-braided. Usually he would ask Mrs. Morales, but she was currently doing overtime at the hospital so it was up to you to do it. However there is just one tiny little problem..miles is VERY tender headed and he would NOT sit still if his life depended on it.

You held the rat-tailed comb to his scalp again attempting to part it into two sections. But not surprised, he moved at the slight movement.

"Ughh milesss" you groan, rubbing your eyes with your palms.

"Ok ok I'm sorry, I'll sit still this time I promise" he says trying to be reasurring

"You said that 4 times already"

There was a small chuckle escaping his lips.

"Oh so you think this is funny? If you move one more time there will be no hugs, kisses or cuddles for a week" you say sternly knowing good and well you don't mean it.

You place gel in between the crooked part and brush it out, slicking it down in the process. Then you continue to braid his hair taking three strands in between your fingers. He flinches every now and then but not as extreme as before. Once you finish the braid you give the boy a hand held mirror to look at it.

"How does it look?" You ask tying a rubber band on the end of the braid to hold it in place.

"Looks better than what my unc did" Letting a hefty laugh escape his lips he hands the mirror back.

"Before you do the other side, can we stretch?" He says craning his neck to look back at you. Almost giving you a begging expression.

You roll your eyes "fine" you say putting down the hair products you were holding.

He gets up from his criss crossed position on the floor and stretches his arms and legs.

"Do you want anything from the kitchen?" He asks letting his back pop from his stretches.

"Just a water please" you request while grabbing your phone to play your Spotify playlist.

"Gotchu"

The boy comes back shortly after holding two room temperature waters in both hands, a bag of (Your favorite chips) in his mouth and a bag of Cheetos in the crevas of his arm. While sitting down he gives you your requested items and you begin to work on his head again.

"Die for you" by The Weeknd begins to play and the reflective moonlight begins to shine throughout the room.

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A/N: I love this sm 🗿

[angel-of-the-moons]

You can definitely ignore this little thingy if you feel uncomfortable buttttt,,,,,,, do you think Steven would like the idea of being bred? Now, breeding is cool and all I love anything that has to do with it but what if it was the opposite? Like, instead of yn it was character? (Doesn't have to be amab specifically lol cuz fake cum is a thing) but like it specifically thinking of Steven having a breeding kink, both ways not just once ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ sorry if this is not your usual type of requests or food for thought haha 😞

Okay this has been sitting in my box for a while but I finally got an idea for it asfjdlndlnd

Sorry if it's like, all over the place and not as detailed as my other stuff :'> I might come in and edit it in the morning when I'm more awake!

A Little Strange

Steven Grant x Fem! Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Flat out smut, pegging, creampie (sorta), spanking(?), Steven is a crybaby, punishment, Sub!Steven, Top!Reader Reader has some hair that is long enough to be pushed back

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

The request your lovely, mousey, nerdy little boyfriend made of you was one you were not expecting.

Sure, you had pegged him before, but the most recent time, as you helped him ride out his orgasm, you heard him whimper and sob into the pillow; "Breed me, love--"

The poor thing was so embarrassed about it all, but after a little sit down with him, he'd explained that he had fantasized about it, imagined you with a real cock; pumping him full, letting it drip down his thighs as you pulled out...

So, you started looking into online forums, Discord servers for adult toys that gave you advice as well as some stores that did custom designed dildos with cum tubes in them, as well as prep and cleanup.

You showed the messages to Steven, showing him there was no shame in what he was thinking about and you noticed how much lighter he was.

So much so that you and Steven started looking at adult toy shops online together for the "perfect" toy to play out his fantasy.

Steven wasn't yet brave enough to enter actual shops so, that task fell to you, Steven completely and utterly trusting whatever decision you made.

However, one night, while scrolling through various product lines...

You found it.

The perfect one. Lifelike, even complete with soft foreskin--matching your very own skin tone to give Steven a bit more reality in imagining that you were going to be the one to fuck him full of cum, not some obnoxiously-colored hunk of rubber.

You bought some warming lube, the fake cum, a new harness to accommodate the tube as well as a vibrator you could insert into yourself. After all, if he was the only one getting off, it wasn't much fun if you didn't, too...

You loved Steven for that. Your pleasure was always his, too.

You looked at him questioningly as you adjusted the harness, "If you're not sure about this..."

Steven had practically been drooling, watching you slip the silicone dick into place. Hell, it looked so life-like he had to blink for a moment to remind himself it was just a toy.

Not that he would have minded the real thing, per se...

He nodded, a little too enthusiastically; making his wispy raven curls bounce back down in front of his forehead, "Y-Yeah, love... I'm good. So--so good. Um--yes. Comfortable, I mean. That is, I'm--"

"Steven." You laugh softly, taking his cheeks in your hands, noticing how he leaned in on sheer instinct alone; as if your comfort was the one thing he needed most in the world.

"Baby, sloooooow down."

You boop your nose to his, making him laugh in return, an obvious red hue to his cheeks. His tongue gets his lips before he speaks, "Right, sorry. Excited, is all."

"I know." You say gently, brushing your fingers through his hair to push some of his curls back. You kissed his cheek and leaned in just a bit more, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as your hand pressed firmly against the bulge in his sweatpants.

"How do you want my cock, Steven? How do you want me to fuck you?"

The way he shudders visibly makes your toes want to curl and your pussy clench around the toy seated comfortably within you. It was off... for the moment.

"I--ah--a-all fours. From behind." He breathes, pressing his cheek into yours.

"Good boy." You purred, grazing your fingers along his jawline so you could tip his gaze upwards to meet yours.

"What about you, sweetheart?" He asked quietly.

"Oh, me?" You giggled, turning away, noticing how his gaze immediately fell to the way the dildo flopped as you sauntered your hips over to your shared dresser. You decided to spare him a quip, and grabbed a small remote.

You walked back over to him and placed the device in your hand.

And Steven, being the wonderfully curious goober that he is... pushing the button at the top, turning the vibrator on at full force.

The unexpected sensation made you squeak and squeeze your legs together; you hands cradling your midsection as your face erupted in a vibrant flush.

"W-wait!" You whined as you doubled over.

"Oh, bloody--I'm sorry!" He floundered, frantically trying to turn it off--accidentially hitting several buttons in the process so you suddenly were barraged with decreases in frequency, pulses, and even warmth--until he finally managed to succeed.

You panted as the sensations finally subsided, a sticky wet heat soaking the crotch of the harness, leaking out around the vibrator tucked snugly within you.

"Take off your pants and get on your knees." You said, your mouth twitching into a smirk.

"You are in so much trouble for that!"

"I'm s-sorry--" Steven hiccuped as you withdrew your hips oh-so slowly, your eyes watching how the strap-on sunk back in welcomingly past his tight rim of muscles.

His ass cheeks were red and swollen from the spanking you had given him--you didn't actually start fucking him with it until he was drooling and crying into the pillow he had tucked against his chest, his cock a weeping mess into the blankets below.

You didn't even let him touch himself.

You pressed the toy in as deep as it would go, pressing your hips down hard until you were grinding against his prostate; Steven whining and babbling the most filthy things as he chewed his pillow, begging for you to just move, to go just a little faster.

"You want me to go faster, baby?" You coo'd, pulling back just to slam home once again, grinding in deep.

"Ye-eeeeh-eeessss!" He cried.

You huffed, pushing back some of your hair that had gotten stuck to your sweaty forehead as you smoothed your hand up the curve of his arched spine, your fingers easily swiping through the rivulets of perspiration that flowed down his skin.

"Shh, shh, I'll give you what you want..." You murmured, leaning in to pepper soft kisses across his trembling shoulder.

He had been behaving since his "punishment"... You figured he deserved a bit of a reward.

So, you pried his tight-fisted fingers open and slipped the controller to your vibrator into his sweaty grasp.

"I want you to cum. And I want you to make sure I do at the same time. If you forget and don't let me cum..." You curled your fingers under his chin, scraping his messy stubble with your nails slightly, making his Adam's apple bomb as he swallowed the lump sum of saliva that had been gathering in his mouth.

"I--I will! Or--I w-won't? I..."

"Just make sure I do, baby. Can you do that for me?" You murmured against his ear, taking the lobe between your teeth and biting down softly.

"I--y-yes..." Steven sobbed.

"Yes..?" You hummed as you pulled back.

"Yes ma'am." He gasped as he felt the dildo inch its way out of his hole.

"Good boy." You praised him, your teeth snagging your lower lip as you feel him turn the vibrator inside of you on at a nice, comfortable setting.

Comfortable, but not what you wanted.

You thrust into him in a nice, deep, steady rhythm, groaning as you watch his hole clench and try to drag you deeper.

You almost wished this was your real cock, just so you could feel how his walls clenched and gripped--desperately trying to urge you along and deeper inside of him.

A moan was torn from your throat; as you thrusted in and out of Steven, the toy would nudge at a delicious angle to just barely catch at your g-spot.

"Steven, higher..." You panted, planting one foot down on the bed as you increased your pace.

You probably should have given him a bit more time to process your request before you began to fuck him harder, the poor man. He was a babbling mess of drool and tears, and you were relentless--pounding into his ass with vigor and energy he barely had in reserves.

His thumb shakily found it, and your breath punches from your lungs when it is turned to the highest setting on a steady pulse to almost match your rolling hips.

"F-fuck!" You groaned, gripping the soft fat on his hips for more leverage to fuck him harder, the vibrator inside of you moving around in your gummy walls, massaging you wonderfully from within, driving your impending climax closer as the seam of the leather harness you wore ground against your clit with every movement.

"'m gonna c-cum, love." Steven moaned loudly, his head lifting from the pillow.

"God--ahh!--are you?" You huffed back, your eyes rolling a little as the vibrator pulses harshly within you.

Maybe you'd chosen your toys a little too well... Neither of you were going to last at this rate. Pity. And here, you wanted to play with him just a bit longer.

Oh, well... Maybe next time you could cockwarm him; slowly fill him up with fake cum until he was begging to ride your cock. Maybe fill if with flavored lube and have him give you a blowjob? So many possibilities...

You reached down and grabbed the pump from your harness--your hand lightly squeezing it to let the fake cum solution work its way up the shaft as you moaned for Steven.

You hear a furious slide of skin as you realize he'd slipped his free hand below, stroking his flushed, fat shaft as you fucked him from behind. He'd get a punishment for breaking that rule.

He hiccuped, a broken and shattered moan coming from his soft and sweet lips was like music to your ears; making your heart skip a beat in your chest.

Later. He'd get one later.

"J-just a little more, baby--you can hold on long enough for me, can't you?" You sighed, swallowing hard to try and keep your voice level as your orgasm threatened to wash through you.

Your only reply was a choked-out whimper, your name leaving his mouth like a prayer as he sniffled; his hand on his dick slowing just a fraction to allow your budding climax to swell and bloom.

"Love, please." Steven pleaded, his hand dropping the remote to your toy--leaving it on the setting that already had your toes curling--as he gripped at the sheets blindly, drooling into the pillow once again.

"You want me to fill you up, Steven?" You moaned (perhaps a little too theatrically) your hips moving in a sharp blur; chasing every backwards jerk of his hips as much as every graze of that seam against your swollen clit.

"Want me to breed you, baby boy?"

"F-fuck--yes!" He almost bellowed

"Mmmm--" You panted, leaning down to press your chest against his back, his skin almost searing against the flesh of your breasts, "Make me cum, baby."

Steven continued to whimper and sob, arching and rolling his hips back to meet your thrusts, the jostling and tugging of the strap making those flames of pleasure lick up your spine as the vibrator pulsed and buzzed inside of you; the heat pooling in your belly battering down the walls of your self restraint.

Steven gasped and twitched, his hand going still for a moment on his dick as the first thick rope of his cum shot from the tip, coating the sheets and his hand as he picked it back up again.

You kept pumping inside of him--the sight and sound of him coming undone making your muscles go taut and flex as your own orgasm washed over you, his sweet voice muttering your name again and again as his cum began to soak into the fabric below him.

You barely had enough focus to remember the pump in your hand. You thrust once, twice, and on the third and final thrust your hand squeezed a final time, your "cum" shooting from your cock and flowing into him.

And, oh, the sounds leaving his mouth were downright sinful. They surely would have blocked any person from reaching the gates of heaven had they been uttered by a holy man.

Well... maybe holy in a different kind of religion...

As your hearts stilled, you slowly pulled out of him and watched as the white fluid dripped from his twitching hole and rolled away, onto your back as you panted for sweet oxygen--the bedroom felt so hot and humid. The smell of sweat and sex soaked into the very molecules of air between you.

You rolled onto your side as Steven collapsed, your fingers shakily reaching for the remote to turn off your vibrator as your body shuddered to a stop, the aftershocks of your orgasm finally washing away like the tide.

"You alive?" You huffed at him, reaching out to comb your fingers through his soaking wet curls.

He turned his face to you, then, a blissed-out smile on his face as he blinked his adorable little doe-eyes at you.

"I... ah.... better than okay." He mumbled, reaching out to grasp your hand in his. "You?"

"I think I found a new favorite hobby..." You grinned at him as you wiped sweat from your brow.

"Oh... I'm right properly fucked, aren't I?" He joked tiredly.

You leaned over and kissed his temple, where the vein throbbed beneath your lips.

"Oh, absolutely."

[incorrectmarines]

Taking a close look at Helmeppo's room in the One Piece live action

Really nice portrait of himself (Where the hell is this painting now? I need to know)

We have stuff that seems like magazines, some perfumes, colognes, maybe stuff for his hair, beauty products, candles, something hanging from one of his mirrors maybe sunglasses?

A goofy hat on top of a fur coat on a chair, more candles, more beauty products and maybe sunglasses hanging from the mirror again? Maybe a saying he has like for shades referencing the visor he will be wearing in the future

A close look at our little friend Bearmeppo before he had to experience the horrors, a hair brush, another pair of sunglasses (seems like they are the ones he had on the portrait), candles, and a box with scissors, for hair? Or maybe embroidery scissors, maybe he made Bearmeppo's marine costume himself, maybe he even made the wig, who knows, there's also that white thing, I'm not able to figure out what the hell it is

Workout rubber bands on top of his towel?? I think he was naked because he came back from a shower, this towel is hanging to the side of another desk/table, this one's in front of a window, an explanation to his great physique! Our boy exercises

This door seems to lead to a bathroom, ad there's a shirt and a cloth? Hanging from the door, the shirt I originally thought was meant to be from a marine uniform, but looking at it closely, it doesn't look all that much like one, but maybe it is, from my understanding in the live action Helmeppo was already meant to be a marine? But he got his position thanks to Morgan and was of course taken a few ranks down after being put under Garp's command

Now... this one... He has so much fur all around... on his bed and also a carpet in front of the door that he left unlocked for some reason? Or maybe Zoro was the one to unlock it by force, who knows, but it doesn't seem like it, also I wonder how the hell he found Helmeppo's room.

But enough of that, there are more important things to analyse like what the fuck this this thing

A sculpture clearly, maybe he's one of those pinterest girlies that like weird sculptures like those creepy ashtrays and stuff, or maybe he truly just is a freak

Let's have a bit of a more general look at what's on top of this dresser though. A sculpture that sort of looks like a tv?? But also not, it has something white in the scenter I might be insane but to me it looks like it had napkins on the inside, there's two fancy lamps, that one looks like a flower, the.. thing. stuff that I can't really see clearly, headphones??? Why??? This is like that apple watch they had to remove on the Gol D Roger execution scene, why does bro have heaphones? I mean we have seen headphones like Scratchmen Apoo's and also Hibari's and Usopp's but those seem to be for noise since they are snipers', Uta also has some headphone looking things and there's also all the ones at Egghead but still, this doesn't seem like anything that would just casually be on the East Blue, but whatever he's rich There's also earmuffs?? on his bed frame, they have a little 😈 maybe he wears them to sleep??? Idk, all these things clash with the more old looking stuff in his room, like the candles, the lamps, the mirrors, the fancy buttles, the tapestry, the rugs... On the other side of Zoro there's a rug that seems to have a flower like pattern, and a little table with glass bottles, maybe alcohol?? Or maybe perfumes

That is all, I didn't notice anything else, no one will read this, but it was still fun to make, I hope you all know this all started because I randomly noticed the mouth thing and was like "WHY HAD I NEVER SEEN IT BEFORE?"

[itsyagurlchip]

@real-hot-grl-shi asked: TEE HEE YK ME maybe monoma x black reader when reader is trying to take her braids out and monoma walks in on her and tries to help?? :)))) (I don't have braids in rn but still, I miss my braids 😞) HAPPY JUNETEENTH!!!!!! BLMMMM 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Gone Ahead, Letcho Hair Down ☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ᯓᡣ𐭩warnings: cussing(!) reader has 4c hair(!) fluff(!)

ᯓᡣ𐭩this is wayyy past j19 💀💀 ermmm, i love you bee <3/p hope you enjoy this! (don't mind if monoma seems ooc- i havent watched s6 or 7 of mha yet)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Monoma loves the way your hair curls around his fingers...

"Bae?" You called, but left with silence. You were sitting down doing your hair, with your elbow paused midair as you looked towards the door. Neito wanted to spend time with you, but it was your wash day. So you simply invited him over. A few minutes ago, he said he wanted to make snacks for the both of you. You told him not to worry about it, gathering your products and supplies as he went to the bathroom instead.

Sitting on your bed, you brushed away the coils of hair that had fallen out when you started unbraiding. You had put your hair in 4 barrel braids, with the tips of your hair into a low ponytail.

"Baby? Can you come over? I need help with the back, I can't see it." You said stretching a bit, your back was already hurting. Despite that, you knew damn well you could do this by yourself.

But you wanted your lover to experience this with you.

The gradual time it takes to gently unfold each wrap, to wince when a rubber band snaps at your knuckles, to feel the relief after hours of work and the calming repeating sensation of unbraiding something. You wanted him to feel what made your hair so special to you.

Hearing him walk out, you turned to look at him. Neito was wiping his hands with a small towel. He was wearing a plain white button up, with navy blue jeans to pair it with.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Don't be impatient, I know I'm fine as hell, but you could live a few minutes without me." Monoma chuckled, throwing the napkin he had away in the tin.

You sighed heavily, rolling your eyes, while widening the trash bag full of fake hair. "Come and getcho ass here boy, this hair ain't gonna do itself." You scoffed, "and for the record, I can go days without yo' pompous ass." You said, smirking a little at his dramatic offense.

You rolled your eyes again when he clutched his pearls, gawking at your audacity to do as such.

"Says the one who can't go one day without sending me edits."

"Says the one who wants me to make edits about you."

"Touche."

And so he sat down next to you. But he was so far that he wouldn't be able to reach your head. You raised your eyebrow as you looked behind you to see him with his legs crossed.

"Um.. So, you gonna help me? Orrr..." You perked your lips, still waiting for a response.

He said nothing, but he reached forward and turned your head back around. Suddenly, Monoma pulled your shoulders down, bringing you to his lap.

"Ay-"

"Shhhh" He said, silencing whatever flirty comment you were about to say. You huffed and adjusted yourself against his knees, feeling your stomach press against Monoma's legs. He grabbed some oil, applying it to your roots, and began unbraiding.

Slowly, with each sigh getting deeper, your eyelids hung over your eyes, bringing you a sense of peace and serenity.

After two hours, which is criminal because it only felt like 30 minutes, Monoma finished your head right before the sun went down. With a brush and his fingers, he began to massage your head and untangle those knots that were left over.

You couldn't hold on any longer, and so your conscious let go. You were asleep.

I'm literally so sad that I got the motivation to write this right after you left. omg :((

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა tags: @kittykittyanon @bonefanatic @oleander-nin @towomatos @thealphagirl

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა@ziipzeepzop-eez @wheezdostuff @spongejuice @cyb3r-st4r @matteo-hamato

@clown-froggi

if you would like to be added, check my blog. if you would like to be added, check my blog. SEE? I SAID IT TWICE!!

[amagi2000]

Matthew Thomas QuartermainReFORm UK: Reigniting the Core

December 13, 2023  · 

Poor Greta. Life without petroleum and petroleum based products.

One crisp winter morning in Sweden, a cute little girl named Greta woke up to a perfect world, one where there were no petroleum products ruining the earth. She tossed aside her cotton sheet and wool blanket and stepped out onto a dirt floor covered with willow bark that had been pulverized with rocks.— with Build Backbone Better.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Pulverized willow bark,” replied her fairy godmother.

“What happened to the carpet?” she asked.

“The carpet was nylon, which is made from butadiene and hydrogen cyanide, both made from petroleum,” came the response.

Greta smiled, acknowledging that adjustments are necessary to save the planet, and moved to the sink to brush her teeth where instead of a toothbrush, she found a willow, mangled on one end to expose wood fibre bristles.

“Your old toothbrush?” noted her godmother, “Also nylon.”

“Where’s the water?” asked Greta.

“Down the road in the canal,” replied her godmother, Just make sure you avoid water with cholera in it.”

“Why’s there no running water?” Greta asked, becoming a little peevish.

“Well,” said her godmother, who happened to teach engineering at MIT, “Where do we begin?”

There followed a long monologue about how sink valves need elastomer seats and how copper pipes contain copper, which has to be mined and how it’s impossible to make all-electric earth-moving equipment with no gear lubrication or tires and how ore has to be smelted to a make metal, and that’s tough to do with only electricity as a source of heat, and even if you use only electricity, the wires need insulation, which is petroleum-based, and though most of Sweden’s energy is produced in an environmentally friendly way because of hydro and nuclear, if you do a mass and energy balance around the whole system, you still need lots of petroleum products like lubricants and nylon and rubber for tires and asphalt for filling potholes and wax and iPhone plastic and elastic to hold your underwear up while operating a copper smelting furnace and . . .

“What’s for breakfast?” interjected Greta, whose head was hurting.

"Fresh, range-fed chicken eggs,” replied her godmother. “Raw.”

“How so, raw?” inquired Greta.

“Well, . . .” And once again, Greta was told about the need for petroleum products like transformer oil and scores of petroleum products essential for producing metals for frying pans and in the end was educated about how you can’t have a petroleum-free world and then cook eggs. Unless you rip your front fence up and start a fire and carefully cook your egg in an orange peel like you do in Boy Scouts. Not that you can find oranges in Sweden anymore.

“But I want poached eggs like my Aunt Tilda makes,” lamented Greta.

“Tilda died this morning,” the godmother explained. “Bacterial pneumonia.”

“What?!” interjected Greta. “No one dies of bacterial pneumonia! We have penicillin.”

“Not anymore,” explained godmother “The production of penicillin requires chemical extraction using isobutyl acetate, which, if you know your organic chemistry, is petroleum-based. Lots of people are dying, which is problematic because there’s not any easy way of disposing of the bodies since backhoes need hydraulic oil and crematoriums can’t really burn many bodies using as fuel Swedish fences and furniture, which are rapidly disappearing - being used on the black market for roasting eggs and staying warm.”

This represents only a fraction of Greta’s day, a day without microphones to exclaim into and a day without much food, and a day without carbon-fibre boats to sail in, but a day that will save the planet.

Tune in tomorrow when Greta needs a root canal and learns how Novocain is synthesized.

[whynotshaveme]

Saturday Night At Bob's Barbershop

By whynotshaveme

Mary Greenwood and her wife Anna arrived at Bob's Barbershop around closing time. Mary is a stern woman in her early 50s with close-cropped black hair. Anna is much younger with long blonde hair flowing down her back. She flinched as her wife grabbed a number. She, however, sat down next her submissively as they waited to be called.

Bob, the owner of Bob's Barbershop, was the only barber present. Curious, once he finished up with what he'd thought was his last customer for the night, he called the two women over. Mary stood up first. Anna hesitated, but one stern glance from her wife got her to her feet and over to Bob's chair.

"Sit down," said Mary.

Then she told Bob that her wife needed a short haircut. Bob wrapped his hairs around Anna's blonde hair and held it away from her as he capped her. He rarely got to touch hair other than his own wife's, so he savored the feel of it in his hands. From how healthy it felt, Anna was clearly a natural blonde.

"Okay," said Bob, "how short? Like yours?"

"No, shave it all off. This is a punishment. She's been flaunting it around town," said Mary.

"Please Mary..." said Anna softly.

Knowing that his may be his only chance to have a beautiful woman in his chair, he decided to assist, even if he normally preferred a willing customer. Especially if he could get a lovely souvenir from the experience. He pulled Anna's hair into a ponytail with a spare rubber band that he happened to have lying around. With his best clippers, he sliced it off. Anna's hair fell loose in rough bob. She, however, didn't have that bob for long because he put one hand on her neck as he ran the clippers over her scalp. A former military barber, he decided to give her the full new recruit experience. Within ten minutes, she sported a perfect grade zero buzzcut. He took a moment to brush her off and then asked Mary if she was good with the finished product.

Mary rubbed her hand against Anna's shorn scalp as Anna shut her eyes, tears running down her face. "Can you make her smooth? She will be spending the rest of the night between my legs apologizing. I don't want to feel stubble."

Bob smiled. "Of course, ma'am."

He wrapped a hot towel around Anna's head. She watched nervously, towel around her head, as he sharpened his best straight razor on a leather strap. Once he got it to a good edge, he removed the towel and spread hot lather over her scalp. With an expert's stead head, he shaved her head smooth. He took two passes just for his own pleasure. When he finished the second, he rubbed her head clean and then used a bit of aftershave, which made her wince.

At Mary's request, she took a photo of his hand over Anna's bald head. Then she paid his fee. As they settled things at the cash register, Anna swept up her own fallen hair, looking distraught. Once the bill was settled, Mary left the shop, with her bald, submissive wife following suit.

Bob took a moment to shut his blinds and flip the sign to closed, and then, with Anna's ponytail in his hands, started to pleasure himself.

(To my Ko-Fi friends, this month's story should be sent out tomorrow or Friday. In honor of April 15th (American Tax Day), it's going to be entitled "Paying The Taxman". For everyone else, The Barber On Main Street is on my Amazon Kindle store: The Barber On Main Street - Kindle edition by From Tumblr, whynotshaveme. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.)

[lifenconcepts]

AN ABSOLUTE TON OF BARNACLES HEADCANONS !!!

Some more barnacles headcanons (I scraped the absolute hell out of my brain scraps to figure out some new ones tbh) HOPE YOU ENJOY !! @idiedtwicebitch

His shoes have special gripping features at the bottom so he can walk or even run on ice without worrying about falling (also doesn’t slip if he’s out with his bare paws out cuz his claws and fur help keep a steady grip).

Has broken a vase before and became incredibly guilty afterwards and so tends to be very careful around fragile objects, in his mind, he’s like a bull in a china shop.

Probably wears his boots to sleep as it brings him comfort and allows him to be up in the blink of an eye should a sudden alert sound.

Is quite a light sleeper and can be awoken by simply being in the same room as him.

Whenever he must make notes on some mission, he tends to mindlessly doodle his crew in the margins. Sometimes sketches the creatures he saw too.

Probably sees his bed as a sacred spot and doesn’t allow others to go on it but if someone like Peso come over in a worried state he lets them sit on his bed.

Is great at comforting others from nightmares or night terrors (as he has experience) and gives the best cuddles and advice for whoever wants to entrust him with such a vulnerable topic.

As a kid used to chew on graphite. It seems funny and like something he miiight do.

Is very intolerant to sour things and often makes a scene if his food or drink have even the tiniest amount of lemon or lime.

Is alright with spices but likely doesn’t really enjoy them.

Hides matches from Kwazii, just in case.

Sometimes likes to go up to trees after a mission/if free and just scratch his back against them, having been caught in the act a few times xD.

Can juggle and sometimes juggles rocks just to make sure he doesn’t forget the talent.

Taught the vegimals how to make paper from scratch and sometimes supplies the crew’s stash for drawing/crafts purposes.

Knows quick math but uses the grid method for any number equations over 1000.

His fur can get matted quite easily and so he spends time out of each day to carefully brush it out, avoiding any naturally occurring sticky substances such as tree sap or honey.

Keeps some medical supplies in a cookie tin under his bed so if he ever gets seriously hurt he can deal with his injuries himself. Doesn’t like to ask others for help or bother our already stressed Peso.

When he can’t sleep he sometimes looks out the window at the nocturnal sea creatures or at rare occasions goes out for a quick swim.

Likes the sound his claws make when scratching glass but doesn’t get the opportunity to do it all that much. Does always volunteer to dispose of unneeded glass for Tweak so he can have a little fun before it gets recycled.

Bianca gave him a rubber duck when he was a child and he doesn’t have the heart to throw it away or put somewhere to rot so he sometimes just takes a bath with a rubber ducky (I have no idea if they have a bathroom in their octohome but oh well. New head cannon: they have a bathroom with a toilet, bathtub, shower, sink, and a bunch of shelves for everyone’s stuff. Kwazii just has a 4 in 1 soap bottle, Dashi has a ton of different brands and variety of products, Tweak just has their personal shampoo and body wash, Shellington is insistent on having conditioner to keep his fur nice and soft, Peso just preens but at times uses just water to freshen up, and Barnacles tends to forget to restock his soap and shampoo so he tends to just borrow other people’s stuff secretly - but does make sure to always keep their preferred brands and items in fu stock.)

Has a magnifying glass he sometimes uses when on a solo mission, being inspired by a few of his favourite movie heros.

Forgets they have a fridge and often needs the vegimals to remind him to eat, yet as he’s in charge of most the supplies going in and out of the octopod, he keeps a list of everything they need and does a monthly check up to make sure everyone has their preferred meals and snacks- often forgetting his own favourites.

Has an irrational’ fear of long cables and nets after getting tangled in them when he was a young cub/on one of his solo adventures.

Has a small pocket on his jacket which he keeps a little notebook with a pen in at all times.

Sometimes insists others wear gloves when handling things but himself struggles to put them on for his paws are incredibly furry, and he refuses to cut the fur because he believes he looks more approachable and kind with big mittens for hands rather than others seeing his exposed claws and individual ‘fingers’.

Has a few signs he sometimes puts on his door to announce to others passing by if he wishes to not be disturbed or if he’s fine with being bothered.

Has a steady hand and despite being a bit uncomfortable, he isn’t afraid of needles and has had a few moments where he had to use one on himself to give himself some medication before.

He tends to squint from habit as when he was a cub the snow often reflected a lot of light and so to avoid going blind had to close his eyes almost completely.

Really enjoys the Antarctic nights which last for months.

After eating he always sneaks himself a few toothpicks to keep his teeth nice and clean.

Is probably one of the only ones who know how to use the octopod’s washing machine apart from tweak and inkling.

Doesn’t believe in much superstitions but loves to find good omens (same as Shellington (also head canon))

Makes himself a flowery perfume and wears it on inactive days so if he spends a lot of time in close proximity with the crew they won’t get scared from him, or atleast be comforted by the scent.

If/when he draws himself, he usually adds very cute and sweet eyes to his face and draws a heart or star around his head.

Is surprisingly good at making soup and has practice with cooking it for all the others, but usually lets the vegimals do most of it (when a day has been busy he sometimes finds himself wanting to make some food for others and even as the vegimals insist he should rest he sometimes makes personal meals for each of his crew friends).

Keeps fake flowers in his room so it feels like there’s some life and as he forgets to water real ones usually.

Is very serious when it comes to the almost monthly check on any medical machinery in the octopod and insists on changing anything out a few weeks before their expiration date.

Keeps a few jars of jam hidden away in his room that he and Biance make almost every year, as it helps them bond and is a tradition they had since they are little cubs. His favourite jam is probably blackcurrant, with cherry and raspberry being tied in second place.

Occasionally watches recordings of the crew on the monitor in his room, especially after a nightmare or if he’s feeling a bit down.

Had a bracelet from practically every single one of the crew and despite rarely wearing them (to not damage them) he holds them dear to him and keeps them on his bedside table. Dashi made him one out of string, Peso and Kwasii made him one out of beads, Shellington’s is from shells, and tweak gave him a rusty bolt from their first octopod. He loves each of their gifts.

Is quite sensitive to insults and often carries the weight of them long after they’ve passed.

At times helps Peso preen his feathers.

Carries around a hand fan almost everywhere he goes in case his head or paws get too warm.

His belt has an option of straightening into a stiff material and acts as a sword, part of the underside also sharpened just in case he needs to use it.

Can’t help himself around big red buttons (but who can? XD)

Offers a cup of tea or hot cocoa to anyone in his presence for longer than 2 minutes.

Has a safety pin on his jacket (iykyk)

Has a dream catcher above his bed.

Keeps a picture of each of the Octonauts in his bedside table.

worries about squishing others whenever he hugs them

Has a small statue of a white dove in his room.

Has made a plushie of himself with some of his fur inside it for Peso to help comfort him from any nightmares he may experience.

[sacramentohistorymuseum]

October 20th is National Day on Writing! Created by the National Council of Teachers of English, this day was established to raise awareness to the variety of writing styles Americans can engage in and to inspire future writers.

Prior to the creation of Johannes Gutenberg’s printing press in the late 1440s, all documents, even books, in Europe were hand written. Printing allowed for the mass production of information. Printing presses were still rare, however. The first press in California arrived in 1835 but Augustín Zamorano was the only printer in California until 1846.

For today, Howard decided to take a different direction for National Day on Writing. Why write something when you can print it? Howard typeset and letterpress printed “Writing” in 48 point Brush Script font. This font was selected because the typeface mimics cursive handwriting. The Brush Script style of typeface was designed in 1942 by Robert E. Smith for the American Type Founders. This was printed with pink rubber base ink using our Washington hand press.

[cagesofgold]

skincare

draken x reader drabble

"I just don't understand why it's so extensive." Draken mumbeled, gaze fixed on your figure as you dug around in the small cupboard that hugged the floor of the bathroom.

"Well..." You said through gritted teeth as you finally managed to find the tub of strawberry face mask residing at the back of the well embellished shelves. "Not all of us can be blessed with such lucious skin, Draken."

"Shut it." He said, tone laced with annoyance as he poked his foot into your back from his position atop the bathroom counter. "Now hurry up, will ya? I'm tired."

You hummed in response, your figure returning to it's original stature as you scanned the label on the back of the pink tub, running a fingernail down the ingredients list until your eyes latched onto what you were searching for.

"Aha!" You exclaimed, "Still in date."

You shuffled towards him, settling yourself between his long legs as his knees cupped your waist.

"This shit can go bad?" Draken questioned, reaching a hand forward to rotate the tub still in your grasp.

"of course it can, everything does eventually." You shrugged, looping your fingers around the steel knob of the drawer below the sink and aquring a rubber brush from its depths.

"So..." Draken trailed off as he watched you twist the face mask open. "What would happen if it was bad and you, i dunno, used it anyway?"

You spun the brush around the pale formula a couple of times, picking up a substantial amount of the product before setting the tub to the side. "Fungus would grow from your nose and all your skin would flake off."

His eyes filled with something that could only be deciphered as shock until it flattened into irritation. "You're an asshole."

"I know." You smiled, "Now stay still."

[dustedmagazine]

K-the-I??? & Kenny Segal — Genuine Dexterity (Backwoodz Studioz)

It was a pleasant surprise when the announcement came through that Billy Woods’ Backwoodz Studioz had a late-year release in store from Kiki Ceac and Kenny Segal. Anyone paying attention to hip-hop in the last 10 years well knows Segal’s name, most likely via Woods’ acclaimed Hiding Places and Maps. But anyone paying attention to hip-hop in the last 20 years will recognize Ceac’s peculiar K-the-I??? nom de plume from releases on Mush, Ninjatune and Big Dada. Memories are short in the rap game, though, so if anything, Genuine Dexterity serves as a welcome reintroduction to one of the finer artists working downstream from Def Jux’s late-1990s breakout.

Like others in the Backwoodz orbit, K-the-I??? has weathered the whims of hip-hop taste making over a timeline that’s taken him from Cambridge, Mass to L.A. to Chicago to Berlin and back again. He took a mid-2010s sabbatical from music altogether. As he noted in an illuminating interview with Caltrops Press over the summer, his writing has gone from paper and pen to freestyles on a phone that then get printed out so he can read them clearly from behind the mic. He’s a fan of Broadcast and Mach-Hommy alike. This is a dude who knows what it means to be older, wiser, more focused, less provincial.

It shows in the rhymes and rhythms of Genuine Dexterity. “Ionosphere” sets the album in motion as it will continue, and it’s clear right from the off that K has not come to play around — these rhymes are razor-sharp. One thing that’s always impressed me dating back to my first brush with him on 2006’s Broken Love Letter is the clarity of his vocal delivery for such high speeds of tongue-twisting spitting. If anything, what it conveys is a sense of engagement, that K is locked all the way in; you can get him rifling through his verses before pulling up the reins to make sure you notice how easily he says his mission statement: “I bet I can touch the sky so easily / even if you don’t believe in me.” Features from formidable emcees like ShrapKnel, Open Mike Eagle and Fatboi Sharif do nothing to deter this attentiveness.

For his own part, Segal aids and abets with some of his better recent beats. While K’s tearing the mic apart alongside both Woods and Armand Hammer compatriot Elucid on “Spellcasted Television,” Segal lays down a beat to match with scrawling guitar that weds spacey synths and claustrophobically dirty percussion; it recalls nothing so much as the best El-P productions. Vinyl crackle lines the sax-wailing, vibraphone-inflected “Warhammer.” More jazz sampling, this time featuring a busy bassline and more horns, hit on “Crushed Heavenly.” Rubber-band oscillations straight out of a 1950s sci-fi film drive the verses of “Season of the Sickness” before the bass weight hits for the chorus. A bubblingly bucolic, RJD2-esque downtempo tone colors “Immediate Imminent Immunity.” Together with K and company tying it all together, the album works as one despite its occasionally surprising sonic ventures.

There’s a loose union of antediluvian hip-hop vets out there — Run the Jewels, the Backwoodz crew, Open Mike, Roc Marciano, Shabazz Palaces, you know these names — that in recent years have found a modicum of fame while maintaining a respectable semblance of artistic integrity. With Genuine Dexterity, it’s safe to add K-the-I??? to that list. The game, as it turns out, needed him.

Patrick Masterson

[alphaman99]

Mark Flatt

One crisp winter morning in Sweden, a cute little girl named Greta woke up to a perfect world, one where there were no petroleum products ruining the earth. She tossed aside her cotton sheet and wool blanket and stepped out onto a dirt floor covered with willow bark that had been pulverized with rocks. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Pulverized willow bark,” replied her fairy godmother.

“What happened to the carpet?” she asked.

“The carpet was nylon, which is made from butadiene and hydrogen cyanide, both made from petroleum,” came the response.

Greta smiled, acknowledging that adjustments are necessary to save the planet, and moved to the sink to brush her teeth where instead of a toothbrush, she found a willow, mangled on one end to expose wood fibre bristles.

“Your old toothbrush?” noted her godmother, “Also nylon.”

“Where’s the water?” asked Greta.

“Down the road in the canal,” replied her godmother, ‘Just make sure you avoid water with cholera in it”

“Why’s there no running water?” Greta asked, becoming a little peevish.

“Well,” said her godmother, who happened to teach engineering at MIT, “Where do we begin?” There followed a long monologue about how sink valves need elastomer seats and how copper pipes contain copper, which has to be mined and how it’s impossible to make all-electric earth-moving equipment with no gear lubrication or tires and how ore has to be smelted to a make metal, and that’s tough to do with only electricity as a source of heat, and even if you use only electricity, the wires need insulation, which is petroleum-based, and though most of Sweden’s energy is produced in an environmentally friendly way because of hydro and nuclear, if you do a mass and energy balance around the whole system, you still need lots of petroleum products like lubricants and nylon and rubber for tires and asphalt for filling potholes and wax and iPhone plastic and elastic to hold your underwear up while operating a copper smelting furnace and . . .

“What’s for breakfast?” interjected Greta, whose head was hurting.

"Fresh, range-fed chicken eggs,” replied her godmother. “Raw.”

“How so, raw?” inquired Greta.

“Well, . . .” And once again, Greta was told about the need for petroleum products like transformer oil and scores of petroleum products essential for producing metals for frying pans and in the end was educated about how you can’t have a petroleum-free world and then cook eggs. Unless you rip your front fence up and start a fire and carefully cook your egg in an orange peel like you do in Boy Scouts. Not that you can find oranges in Sweden anymore.

“But I want poached eggs like my Aunt Tilda makes,” lamented Greta.

“Tilda died this morning,” the godmother explained. “Bacterial pneumonia.”

“What?!” interjected Greta. “No one dies of bacterial pneumonia! We have penicillin.”

“Not anymore,” explained godmother “The production of penicillin requires chemical extraction using isobutyl acetate, which, if you know your organic chemistry, is petroleum-based. Lots of people are dying, which is problematic because there’s not any easy way of disposing of the bodies since backhoes need hydraulic oil and crematoriums can’t really burn many bodies using as fuel Swedish fences and furniture, which are rapidly disappearing - being used on the black market for roasting eggs and staying warm.”

This represents only a fraction of Greta’s day, a day without microphones to exclaim into and a day without much food, and a day without carbon-fibre boats to sail in, but a day that will save the planet.

Tune in tomorrow when Greta needs a root canal and learns how Novocain is synthesized.