#and i also ignored the chair bc you cAnnot see it at all

[rizsu]

don't ignore me, snookums childe, al haitham, heizou.

sum. what happens when u dare ignore them

childe 'ajax'

★ quiz time! childe notices you've grown a little distant. now he turns on his thinking machine to assist him in this journey! while brainstorming ideas he came across three options, which one did he choose (5 points) ☆

a) he goes to your house with a bouquet of pink camellias.

b) stalks you for five days and then sends teucer to the café you're visiting to lure you back to him

c) pulls you into a random alley when you're strolling around and demands why you've been ignoring him

childe chose... option b!

he's the typa man to use his younger siblings (which you love) to deliver messages to you. so in conclusion, he dressed up teucer as a mail man and made him go over to your residence.

childe would use all petnames available to make you talk to him.

"honey munchkin, please talk to me my sweet lovely slime"

you honestly cannot ignore this man. he's too funny.

"oh? is that a giggle from my skrunky??"

he goes on with that for another two hours until you gave up.

alhaitham

notices immediately when you're ignoring him. will give you a side eye because why are you ignoring him?? + also wants to see how long you can go without talking to him so he plays along.

a fun fact: he cannot go long without being near you but his pride is too high to give up.

he gives up after a week and invites himself over to your dorm.

stomps his way over to your room and sits on your desk chair.

"hi. did you forget you have a boyfriend?" haitham probably said it more like a statement rather than a question tbh

you don't answer him at all & tries to leave the room so that results in a scoff from him.

wraps one hand around your waist and pulls you onto his lap.

"i don't know about you but i'm pretty sure i'm not a door."

you make the mistake of smiling and he teases you bc of that

"don't try me, haitham my sweet potato."

heizou shikanoin

pulls up to your house staring at the door with his hands on his hip. if you have a doorbell, he'll ring it until it no longer works..!

he doesn't care if the rain's gonna fall. heizou is standing there until you open that door.

the typa man to slide down the door with one hand beating his chest while the other wipes his invisible tears.

HONESTLY you didn't even notice he's outside....

when you open the door he either pulls a sad persona or looks at you up and down.

"now, y/n, my sugars, why are you ignoring me??"

you let him in (still ignoring) and he clings onto you until you give up.

[sugar-omi]

I been listening to 18+ audios (plz don’t hate I’m already ashamed of myself) and I came across one that was academic rivals fuck to study better, all I could think about was Cove and Mc who grew up hating each other somehow end up going to the same college and fucking their brains out every study session and because they still kind of hate each other still they’re the biggest fucking teases 

NO DONT WORRY BC I LISTENED/LISTEN TO THOSE N THEN I GO ON A SHAME STRIKE N THEN END UP PICKING IT BACK UP..... CURRENTLY ON SAID SHAME STRIKE BC MY EMBARRASSMENT ALWAYS CATCHES UP TO ME BUT WE'LL SES HOW LONG THAT FUCKIN LASTS.

but omfg that's so juicyyy... i have a absolutely sick migraine rn but I cannot ignore this.

gn reader, multiple choice dialogue.

the masochist in me likes to imagine cove pulling you into his lap, slipping his fingers into your mouth to help keep you quiet, and growls about how much of a dumb bunny you are.

you say you hate him, you can hardly share the same air without bickering. but you jump at the chance to be alone with him, feigning ignorance about the subject just so he'll come around to your side of the table n sit by you.. your hand sliding up his thigh to his growing bulge...

he helps you as if he doesn't know what you're doing, doesn't feel your hand sliding along his hardening length or undoing his pants, and tries not to moan when you're slowly stroking his heavy cock in your fist..

finishes explaining the problem, and you cheerily tell him you get it now. feigning more ignorance.

he doesn't let you though, tells you there's another problem you need to solve.

mmm, cove pushing the chair back and forcing you to your knees, even better if you're wearing shorts or a skirt and when you come up, you whine about the marks on your knees from the carpet.

telling him he's mean and disgusting. as if you wouldn't do it again just so he'd shove his cock down your throat, looking up at his pretty expressions, the expanse of his throat when he throws his head back... or the way he peers down at you with sharp, hooded eyes.

fight all you want, though. because he still pulls you into his lap, tugging off your bottoms n underwear and making you ride him.

he holds your hips, helping you grind those pretty hips so he can see your expression falter and eyes turn dreamy when his cock hits that delicious spot inside you.

pulls you into a kiss, making you use up the last of your brain power to French kiss, kisses you until he can't tell where he starts and you end.

doesn't let you do all the work too long, because even though he teases you for being needy, for having dick on the brain instead of hitting the books, he's also desperate, wants to see you fall apart on his cock, wants to make you moan his name even if someone overheats you.

he needs it. needs to carve his name into your body until all you can think about is him.

but then the sadist.... the same thing pretty much but reversed.

he's all grunts and moans, sweat dripping off his brow as he fucks into you so furiously. he hates your bad attitude, your snarky comments, but somehow he still finds himself sneaking into your dorm room at night, or jerking off to the thought of you or the risqué video you sent him in the middle of the night. teasing him.

or like right now, he has you on your back in his bed, your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapped tightly around your midriff and face buried in your neck as if you didn't give him a scowl nasty enough to kill a man and sneered words thickly laced with hate and disdain.

even now, even though you're moaning so pretty, and your cunt is making obscene wet sounds from cove's desperate fucking / your cock making obscene wet sounds in your hand, your cock leaking and throbbing in your fist.

you're still trying to growl insults into his ear, telling him he's so desperate for some ass that he'd fuck the one person he hates. you'll laugh when he has a mouthful of your cock / cunt, his tongue moving expertly along your sex from the years of sneaking around and fucking, even if just seconds ago you were glaring at each other.

but you can't deny you want him, love fucking him. and he loves it too, and he can't even say anything back when you say that stuff. because yeah, you get on his nerves so bad. and even though he can fuck someone else, women and men damn near falling over him. it's college, you'd be damn pressed not to get laid.

but you.. he just keeps coming back to you.

let's you fist his hair and tug it, let's you bite his shoulders and neck. only if he gets to fuck you, grab your hips in his big hands and squeeze the fay of your ass. smack it in retaliation for a bad hickey or three.

let's you talk shit and call him desperate, call him a slut when he pulls you out the hall into a single person bathroom, holding your hips still and his shirt between his teeth, trying to push you both over the edge quickly before your lunch break ends.

only so he gets to fuck himself stupid inside your hot walls. and only so you'll text him that same night, telling him to meet you wherever you're at, a picture of your desperation attached...

[prncssie]

caution! mdni 1k wrdz, suggestive content

miffy’s note hi bbies! just a drabble to get him out my head. it’s unedited bc this is nawt serious and i am not expecting any sort of traction 😭 this for me!!! enjoy or don’t

adrian “the alucaurd” tepes.

a blond beauty. tall, charming, witty, and with the most dazzling amber eyes.

the same amber eyes that are unfortunately, avoiding your gaze.

you like to pretend it’s not you who’s caused these chains of events but are you really to blame? all you ever do now is sit behind the castle walls and entertain yourself where you can.

sure, there’s a whole village just outside the door being built from the ground up. sure, you could set aside your personal feelings and help but why would you? after months and months of defending yourself against night creatures, foraging, and forgetting any hygiene you previously had, sitting pretty in proper heating with access to clean water had you more spoiled than you’d like to admit.

and you can trust adrian has noticed, too.

“you’ve changed,” is what he would say with a tut of his tongue when you demand a hot bath with goat-milk soap and of course he complies. who is he to deny such a pretty girl who usually speaks such sweet words.

never in his several hundred years of living could he imagine ever bending to the will of a human but he can’t help it when it comes to you. it just feels so right . . . and also keeps you quiet.

unlike now. now, you’re bored, antsy, and finding the solution to your problems in harassing your lover.

“alucard,” your drawl, dragging the tips of your fingers against the wooden table stationed by the lounge chair you’re in. you’re all curled up, knees to your chest and head dangling off the armrest.

you can see him across the room, see the pained irritation that briefly crosses his face before it’s all released with a sigh. “please, just adrian. there’s no need for such formalities.”

he flips the page of the book he’s buried his nose so deep in without sparing a glance at you. adrian isn’t an idiot. for as long as he’s lived, he’s quite far from it. he’s already aware of what’s sure to come if you’re given too much of his attention and he’s not in the mood to entertain it.

“okay. adrian, is there not a better way to pass the time? i’ve grown very tired of sleeping and all of my friends are too busy for me.” you sit up up a swift motion. your curls move in accordance and dust the back of your neck.

“perhaps you would be more delighted if you’d help them with their duties,” adrian says. it comes out more of a mumble, dulcified by his smooth way of speaking.

you can only roll your eyes and settle into a new position, throwing your legs over the chair and resting your head atop the coffee table. you swear you’ve read every book on the shelf, explored every book and cranny in the castle. you can feel your beauty wasting away the longer you sit and do nothing. “how about you do something for me, for once. suggest something i can do.”

“i do everything for you and you know that. now, i’m going to ignore you.” there’s a chuckle in his voice, light and airy. as if there’s anything funny about the disastrous situation you’re in. a castle, just to yourselves, and he won’t a single thing with you.

you huff and puff, placing your feet onto the hand-stitched rug beneath you. “you’re not serious. you can’t be.” your pillow soft lips are already fixed into a pout and even more so when you’re met with absolute silence.

not even a glance.

“adrian tepes!” you’re on your feet and marching to his side before you can even think, hands planted firmly on your hips and ready to give him a scolding.

it’s only when you’re standing beside him that he cannot ignore your presence. in fact, adrian graces you with a smile, fangs just barely visibly. “mrs. tepes,” his hand comes around your waist to rest on your back, “you’re being unreasonable.”

the cheeks of your face flush with a heat you’ve only ever felt with him. you curl your lips in on each other to disguise your growing smile. the shyness hits your body all at once and you’re at a loss for words.

“is it not my job to give the kind people resources and knowledge they’ve lost over the years? if they’re going to rebuild their village, they should be properly equipped. i am sharing my land, after all.” adrian gathers you into his lap, sweeping the fabric of your long nightgown out of the way and smoothening it out.

the silence is palpable and never-ending. it’s prompting a response, one that you’re nearly obliged to give.

“well . . ., yeah.” your press the palm of your hand against your lips in an act of both defiance and guilt. you’re wrong and you know you’re wrong. you don’t need an old vampire to explain it to you.

his fingers dance along the silk, sliding the fabric along your thighs. it brings a subtle chill down your spine and prickles goosebumps on the surface of your skin. “yeah. so this tantrum you’re experiencing, it’s unreasonable. will you allow me ten minutes? please?”

there’s a moment where you consider saying no. the pretty little thoughts in your head whir and whir with the possibilities. saying no and what? he’d listen? adrian is a bit of pushover but he’s not dense. he wouldn’t do everything your heart desires. of course, you could always agree and end up alone, ignored, and pushed aside. you’re pursing your lips again, already ready to voice your opinions but your words get caught in your throat.

you’re choking on them when the same fleeting fingers are hiking up the hem of your dress, skimming along your inner thigh. sneaky badtard he is, using unfair advantages.

“adrian,” you mewl, grasping at his forearm in an attempt to stop him from progressing. “it’s unfair.”

he simpers, his attention delving into the many words floating on the stiff paper bound together by string and a cover. “you poor thing.” adrian’s fingers hike further and further until they’re ghosting over your clothed clit, throbbing in anticipation.

“can’t sit still for even a moment. should i give you something to whine about?” adrian flicks the book closed with one fluid motion of your wrist. it snaps and becomes a desolate memory in the back of your mind.

there’s a warble that builds in your throat when the pads of his tips move your panties aside and become busy in your sticky cunt. your chest rises and falls with each breath.

any thought you’ve previously had is ripped from your brain when your eyes meet adrien’s. they’re narrow, smirky, and knowing, watching your every move.

you stay like that, seated on his lap and entranced by those amber shaded eyes and perfectly at his disposal, rolling through the pleasure as it comes.

[yurislotusgarden]

Circle of complaints

ʚїɞ aka, Welt and Kunikida complaining about having to be unassuming fathers

ʚїɞ Small mentions of reader bcs they're a menace together with either Dazai or March (There's 2 readers, one for bsd universe and one for hsr universe)

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 1.7k

ʚїɞ Idea was stolen from comes from @lotus-pear <3

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None!

“Are you sure that a pure dark coffee with 4 shots of expresso is a good decision?”

“No, it's not, but I need it.”

The older man sighed, and as he had previously noticed, the younger male was sitting completely alone in the cafe, and seeing as he, himself, was in the same predicament, he decided to join.

“Mind if I sit with you? If you don’t mind, of course.”

“No no, I don’t mind, feel free to sit.”

“Thank you.”

The brunet pulled the chair out and sat down, placing his own coffee on the table. 

Pure dark coffee, with 2 shots of expresso. He wasn't much better than the blonde in front of him, but he still had less caffeine in the end.

“Are you sure that I shouldn’t ask the very same question you gave me just a moment before?”

“How about we both ignore our coffees?”

“...That’s a good idea, I suppose. I’m Kunikida Doppo, you?”

“My name’s Welt Yang, nice to meet you.”

The both of them sat in silence for a few minutes before Kunikida’s phone started to ring. Welt had to say that the ringtone, the caller ID, and the picture of the contact were… surprising, to say the least. The older man expected the younger one to accept the call, only for him to decline it, and mute his phone when the same person called again moments later.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking but, are you having a bad day that you’re not answering the call?”

“No, it’s the fact that the caller is one of the people who are the reason behind me being here, drinking this abomination.”

“Understandable, can I know what they did?”

The deep, exhausted sigh from the blonde wasn’t giving any good signs to the brunet.

“It was sand this time.”

“Sand?”

“Yes, I opened a drawer in my desk earlier this morning only to find all of my things covered in sand, nothing was spared. Everything was either covered or full of it. Dazai and [Name], the two responsible for that stunt, were either sitting on the agency couch or their desk respectively, trying not to laugh at my expression when I realized what they did.”

“Hmm… those two, Dazai and [Name], do they do things like that often? Because it sounds like they do.”

“Let me tell you, a day where nothing would happen is a day I would consider a miracle. Both of them are always planning how to get on my nerves. I cannot tell you how many pens I lost due to me snapping them in half.” 

The older one chuckled, he had to admit that it reminded him of the things that March and (Name) would often do to the other occupants of the train. He stopped counting how many times he had found things he shouldn't have in places they weren't meant to be in.

“You know, it reminds me of something my coworkers did before.”

“Really? You also have complete menaces as coworkers?”

“Yes, one time two of them, March 7th and (Name), got buckets full of sand one night when everyone else went into their rooms to sleep. The next morning when everyone left their rooms, the entire floor was covered in so much sand that it could’ve been considered a beach, only water was missing.”

“That sounds like a nightmare to clean up.”

“It was. At first, those two troublemakers were sentenced to cleaning up alone, but we all quickly realized that they'd need help if we wanted the sand out the same day. Even then, the sand continues to be found in completely random places till today.”

“How long ago did it happen?”

“Hmm…I would say that soon it'll be 7 months since then.”

“...Now I'm praying that my idiots won't get that idea.”

“You better.”

The younger man sighed. The man that sat with him definitely seemed wise, obviously more experienced with life if he was to guess his age, and unfortunately, he seemed to be on the same boat when it came to coworkers.

“Is it normal for your chaos duo to pull such things?”

“...Chaos duo?”

“It fits.”

“...I guess it does.”

Kunikida was curious, he could tell the two people Welt was talking about were ones to expect some pranks from, but just how was the older man so used it? *At least he looks like he’s used to it* the blonde told himself, slightly amused.

“Honestly, it's completely normal for the two to pull pranks, from smaller to bigger ones. Although it doesn't happen as often as it does for you.”

“After hearing about your sand incident, I think I may be lucky with those bastards doing small pranks on the agency members.”

“You sure should be thankful for small, harmless pranks, you could be having much worse. Also don't mind me asking but, ‘agency’?”

“Ah yes, I work at the armed detective agency, we basically take care of cases that are too much for the police, but still less than what should get the military involved.”

“Sounds like an eventful though dangerous job, I’m not going to lie. I cannot say what my job specializes in, but I do travel a lot.”

“Is Yokohama a work destination?”

“No actually, we decided to have a small break, short vacation, if you will, and since we were already close by, we decided that Yokohama was gonna be our stop.”

“Do you like the city?”

“It's very lovely, I can't lie, I'm a fan of the views, especially water-related ones at sunsets.”

“They're beautiful indeed, would be even better if there was no chance to fish out a suicidal maniac like he's fish himself.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me correctly.”

“What do you mean by ‘fish out a suicidal maniac’?”

Welt was worried upon hearing those words, but for some reason, Kunikida seemed completely carefree. Was it so normal for him to call someone like that? Wait wasn't the picture of the caller earlier a person on a ro-

“Dazai Osamu, the person I talked about earlier, literally dreams about a double suicidal with a beautiful woman, but it's not uncommon at all to find him floating down a river as, or after, a suicide attempt.”

“I-”

“Please don't dwell on that.”

Alright so he had every reason to be worried, but he also guessed that Kunikida was way too used to that ‘Dazai’ person’s antics by now.

“...So what’s another prank you fell victim to?”

---------------

“So you're saying, that one time, you left your tea out on a table, just for one person to change it to coffee, then another person to change it to colored vodka (you added food coloring to it), after that yet another person changed it out to a very weird tasting tea, just for someone to change it to food colored water that someone else ended up drinking because the cups got mixed with your friend’s in that whole ordeal?”

“Yeah, it wasn't the first time something like that happened as well.”

Kunikida decided that he was actually lucky with how he gets pranked when he heard what sometimes March and (Reader) did to Welt. Or even someone else when they roped someone into their plan.

“Should I watch out for my drinks even more than I already do?”

“When I hear what your coworkers already have done, I would say yes because it may escalate at some point.”

“Just great-”

“Your cake is falling.”

“Oh shit-”

The cake was successfully saved from falling off of Kunikida's fork, which he was happy about as that was one of the best cakes he’s eaten till this day.

---------------

“-and so I-”

“Wait wait wait.”

“Yeah?”

“You found your paperwork on the roof, the only thing keeping it from flying being a singular pin?”

“Yes, I searched for that paperwork for a week before Ranpo took pity on me and gave me a hint.”

“The hint being?”

“He said, and I quote ‘Do you think that paperwork can fly?’. It caused me to check out all of the windows and then the roof.”

“...Your partner loves chaos doesn't he?”

“He adores it.”

“You actually reminded me of that one time that my research papers were taped all over my workplace, nothing spared, not even the floor or ceiling.”

“Hold up WHAT-”

#)+_)#)#

“And guess what? He had absolutely no remorse for that! The bastard!”

“We have way too many similar experiences…”

First the sand, then the broken things, messed up work - for Kunikida, and messed up documentation on some observations for welt, hair cut when taking a short nap, teasing comments, changed up drink when one was not looking (Welt laughed way too much at hearing that you changed Kunikida's water for vodka, and Kunikida had a hard time trying not to laugh at Welt’s tea being changed to water with food coloring), things completely going missing before being found days later in the most random spot imaginable he swears that Kunikida will have gray hair or aneurysm before 25.

“Way too many. I say we don't let those 4 meet each other, it won't be good for anyone around.”

“Pretty sure it would end up with half of the city hating them.”

“Half? I say most.”

“That's an exaggeration.”

“Not at all.”

Both of them had to say that the talk in the cafe was very pleasant. Sharing the memories problems that are so similar that it got kind of worrying at one point, but very pleasant indeed. Unfortunately for Kunikida, he noticed he was about to run behind his schedule if he was to stay any longer.

“Say, how long are you staying in the city?”

“It depends on my coworkers really, but we planned 2 weeks at the very least, we all need it.”

“How about we meet every now and then? Just to talk like we did today?”

“I would say that's a great idea. A talk like this can be very refreshing.”

“Great, let’s exchange numbers then?”

“Of course.”

Little did the two of them know that soon yet another person would join them. That, dear readers, is how their little circle of complaints came to be.

Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ Taglist ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

@sukiischaotic

[zmediaoutlet]

Happy WW! I have to pick your brain about established relationship wincest, because I agree it has a lot of untapped potential. Like, other the years how much does “brotherly-ness” go down, and “romantic partner-ness” go up? When was The Moment that they realized there really wasn’t going to be another outside relationship, that it could be them until the end? On the flip side, with canon, how much does Sam wonder "it could have been different with us"? Bc thinking about Dean II makes me so sad!

happy wincest wednesday!! (we enjoy wincest on all the days, it's fine)

So -- I'm taking a slightly different tack at this, but I think that with a lot of married/long-term romantic partners, the sibling-ness goes up a lot over time. Once you're out of the fresh lovey-dovey stage when flowers stop puking out of the beloved's eyes every time you look at them, it's like -- okay, so you have a long-form relationship with this person where you know a ton of their background and secrets; you've been together long enough that you act like each other in certain ways and share lots of in-jokes and common language; you find each other irritating in some ways but also fun in others, and you tease each other about some stuff and joke about some stuff and some stuff you just have to ignore/roll your eyes about for the sake of the house (unless you're those shitty siblings who insist on picking fights about every little thing). And like... that's Sam and Dean.

Now, adding in actual romance of course makes it different, but the thing is that they're starting pre-equipped with all of the intimacy and long-worn grooves of knowing each other that a married couple doesn't get until they've been married twenty years -- but Sam and Dean have that already! In the new-relationship era I can obv see a jitteriness destabilizing them some -- let's imagine for the sake of argument that they aren't hatefucking to start and instead it's a relatively nice coming-together (and coming, together) -- and so maybe there's a little period where they kind of don't know what to do with each other. But then Sam still farts in the car after a burrito and Dean still sings warbly and off key in the shower and they know each other, so the fact that they're also learning about each other's dicks can't wreck all that history. And, honestly, on the "romance" side of things -- while they maybe can be softer with each other, show a more tender side, get the benefit of lowered-barriers that pillow talk etc might bring -- I absolutely 100% cannot see them, like, "dating." Sam's not gonna pull Dean's chair out at a fancy restaurant they've inexplicably gone to, and Dean's not going to ask Sam to go on the ferris wheel except as a joke. They're going to keep doing the things they always did, because they are brothers and they aren't somehow awkwardly shoving that relationship into a romcom box -- they're gonna go on a hunt and to a pie fest and to the movies, and they'll act just like they always did, but maybe with handjobs after. That's what makes it *interesting* that it's an incestuous relationship, you know?

As far as The Moment -- that obviously depends on how you're writing the incesty bits, but in honest to g canon I think it's at very different speeds. Honestly, I think Dean's there about midway through s1, but it's obviously cemented after the thing with Lisa blows up (with the caveat that I'm not sure he believes Sam can feel the same until s10); for Sam, I think it takes until s11, really, because he's always looked outward -- asking Dean if he ever considers anything else, and then not arguing when Dean blows off the question -- and really sitting there in his life like, yeah. Yeah, I think this could be it. And it feels like a peaceful realization, and that point, and not the curse he might've considered it in s1 or 3 or 9.

(Sorry, I can't quite parse the last question w/r/t Dean II etc, but hopefully that's enough wincest to be going on with.)

[edgyandoverzealous]

Consider this, all of rottmnt brothers are the medic. @moltenatlas just in case you were still interested in that all the rottmnt boys are the medic post we talked about ages ago, this is it.

Mikey is starting as patient 0 because I am a firm believer of accident prone Mikey, it's primarily self-indulgence at this point but hush I have fragments of evidence. He's a skateboarder is the main point of said evidence bc he's going to be covered in injuries at some point. That's the way of skateboarders. Additionally that kid had his nose in some kind of fiction/comic book or Sketchbook too often to not have tripped or ran into a wall, and no you cannot tell me rottmnt Mikey didn't read anything he was definitely raised on one of the main four fantasy fiction pipelines, meaning harry potter, warrior cats, percy Jackson and the Olympians (me), or the hunger games pipelines. I am not accepting criticism. He's also way too good at cooking to not have been doing it for years and little hands make many mistakes. Also Raph being increasingly worried about Mikey the first time he goes out, ignoring the obvious mother hen instinct, indicates that Mikey is at the very least a little clumsy or accident prone I mean he even has knee and elbow pads he wears consistently ffs. Due to these many possibilities I believe each of the other brothers have a fair knowledge of first aid and medical aliments.

Raph's-

Raph learned first. Obviously. The oldest of four and babies are bound to get a few bonks as they try to learn how to do basic motor functions. Such as walking and talking, having those bonks himself he picked up what to do from Splinter and put them into practice when Splinter was going through one of his rougher more absent patches. (I am a depressed/body dysmorphia rottmnt splinter truther tm and as someone with active and diagnosed chronic depression and also suffers from body dysmorphia taking sometimes taking care of yourself feels impossible let alone four young kids so I'm a firm believer Raph had to take over some responsibilities sometimes. Not all the time, because I also believe splinter loves his sons to death tm and he tries his best, but sometimes.)

Donnie, upon seeing Mikey cheating the crawling system by popping in his shell and ping ponging around the house, tried to copy and ended up somersaulting into a chair leg leaving his entire being aching. Raph having crashed a few times himself mimicked what Splinter had done previously and whipped up a warm bath, children's bubblegum Tylenol, ice packs, and firm back scratches to help ease his brother's pain. Help which the tot insisted he didn't need though the last words, or chirps rather, as he fell asleep were a clear thanks.

Leo so badly wants to play sports-ball with his big brother, who was bouncing said ball on his knee, ran to tackle and got kneed in the gut followed directly by a ball to the face. He let out a loud "oomph" and the saddest and most distraught chirps and clicks Raph had ever heard. This insight made Leo's twin, who was peeking in front behind a nearby corner, to also start crying after he scooped Leo's face and tried to chirp a form of consolation before refusing to leave Leo's side. Feeling awful Raph brought him ice packs and snacks as well as asking simple questions and checking his eyes to make sure his brother didn't have a concussion as the twins sat, snacked, and watched movies to avoid scrambling more of their insides. Luckily he didn't, just a few bruises, a black eye, and a very worried twin.

Mikey, poor Mikey, got bumped and bruised far too often, his ping-ponging ended up with the tot popping out too early and getting a mild concussion, scrape, rug burn, or bruise from impact. It got to the point where Raph stopped knowing what to do and was running out of bandaids. Raph eventually duct taped pillows to his little brother who, like a dog, thrashed around until he was free. I'm also a firm believer that Mikey is accident prone as all hell and could bruise his knee getting a juice box, which he has.

The Disaster Twins-

I will not be swayed. I don't care who I have to fight they learned around the same time for exceedingly different reasons.

Donnie was already leaning into self-experimentation/running experiments solo. This means more unpleasantries could arise such as injury and seeing as Donnie likes having working motor functions and not being coddled by his other siblings. He cracked open all the books he could get his hands on and figured out how to cure anything from a paper cut to cardiac arrest. He learned how to do all as painlessly as possible as well, used simulated situations and robots, to ensure that he could. Once he could he immediately chipped his brothers as well as himself.

Donnie took a more anatomical and medicinal approach to learning. He learned how the body is built and designed to react to stimulus. For example he built an x-ray machine with adjustable levels to figure out the differences between his mutated muscle and skeletal form and the ones of humans in the books he found. He'll also learn why specific injuries or illnesses occur and focus more on prevention above solution for when it occurs but he's well versed in solutions should it come to be despite efforts.

Leo is a mischievous little thing. He does things he's not supposed to and more often than not ends up in wild situations. Such as chipping a tooth or losing a tooth. That hurts but he refuses to explain to his brother's and chooses to ignore the pain instead. He understands that this isn't practical so he also picks up every book he can get his hands on and learns how to handle anything from a paper cut to resuscitation. He really gets into it once Mikey and Donnie got involved in his shenanigans, Mikey in particular being accident prone meant he, as an older brother had to make sure he could take care of him.

Leo took a more situational and medicinal approach. Leo thinks that injury in his shenanigans is bound to happen eventually. He is correct because he's canonically self-destructive and self-sacrificial, that at very least, gets him hurt. So he is less interested in the why and more interested in how to negate the effects of specific accidents that may happen. IE: "I fall from a tree and land on my arm funny. It bends the wrong way what do I do?" Or "Mikey falls of the wagon as we take a sharp turn in the tunnels, he slid across concrete, and his leg is covered in blood" he thinks of specific scenarios and then learns as much as he can about the injury and how to make it better.

Mikey -

Mikey learned to repay his brothers for everything they've done for them.

He thrives to be someone his brothers can rely on as well so he started watching when he was little. He saw everytime someone else got hurt and often provided comfort cuddles. As he sat in their laps. Mostly Raph, would explain what he was doing, and how it would help as he helped with various ailments. So that's how he primarily learned.

Additionally Mikey is quite independent, don't get him wrong he loves his brothers to death, but he also doesn't like being coddled. He likes to do things his way and on his own. So he observed his brothers everytime they helped him with an injury or got injured themselves and acted as "nurse" for whoever was helping the others.

Eventually he started patching himself up when he got hurt. (Raph cried the first time he saw Mikey patch himself up because his littlest brother was all grown up tm)

Mikey is nowhere near Leo and Donnie's expertise but he can handle the basics plus having extended knowledge in burns and cuts which are commonplace accidents in the kitchen where Mikey spends a lot of time.

Mikey has fun/colorful bandages designated to each of his brothers for the rare occurrence of his brothers getting hurt around him/during family times. One time when they were little he got Jupiter Jim ones on a trip with Splinter to a local convenience store and his brothers almost seemed to get hurt on purpose to get them. Needless to say he got more but those are only for special occasions and his brothers don't know he has them.

Mikey also knows how to lower a fever better than the others because he and Raph got influenza when they were little, not tots but young kids, and both run h o t. The both of them had 104 (or equivalent for turtles idk) fevers and Splinter spent three sleepless nights monitoring them and trying whatever he could think of to lower it. So Mikey and Raph know how to lower fevers at a near expert level.

Mikey is also good with Migraines. Because the Hamatos all suffer from migraines for one reason or another I've decided actually.

[magg0tkid]

One more day

Nay one more hour til I fall asleep

And then it's Day.

The morning could be terrible. There was a terrible today and I almost lost it! I really really did. I almost got into my car to just start driving but I didn't because! My things! Are also in the truck! And I need my dad! To bring them! And if I just left! I don't know what would happen to them! Maybe my mom would set them on fire like she's threatened before :) <3 so I just didn't want to leave them my ex sister in law gave me this desk when I was 10 and Adam was a very new thing and I was so very alone and mom was gone :) and no one paid attention to me which doesn't make me special many people were ignored by their mothers and had fathers who worked constantly but it still hurt :) but then maggie paid attention to me and took me to her house and put on the fellowship of the ring and then gave me this old desk and also a bookshelf and the desk is small and the bookshelf is falling apart but I felt so incredibly loved and cared for and she was like so nonchalant about it like I'm not using them anymore it's really not a big deal and I was like literally no adult has paid me attention in like a year you have no idea how amazing this feels I love you thank you :) and then later after they got married and moved I spent so much time at their house bc they lived a block away and my brother was never around much but maggie and fyo were and he was such a cute chubby baby and he used to get so happy when I danced and I'd put on my brother's Coldplay cd bc it was the only cd he had that I liked and I'd put fyo in the high chair and dance and dance and he'd laugh and laugh and it was so nice!!!!!!!!!!!! And then they moved and Maggie attempted suicide and they got divorced and I felt like I lost a whole fucking ass sister and we just never talked about it lol she's not my blood relative but super cute super fun suicide attempt trend for the ladies in the fam I used to think about her lots and worry about her but I think she's ok ish now she has the kids on the weekends

Anyway literally not even the point

I didn't leave I stayed and she evened out and maybe tomorrow will be fine!!!! Maybe it will just be fucking fine. Maybe she will just get in the truck and her and dad will drive and I'll drive and we'll get to my aunties and I will refuse to unpack my car until my mom leaves and I'll call my auntie on the way and say if you mention anything about the amount of stuff I've brought I will throttle you and your bird in your sleep but I'll say it in a nicer way but I am so very like. I don't think I can deal with mom getting triggered by anything else it ironically is the most triggering thing I've ever experienced, I was truly physically paralyzed today in a deep, deep state of terror shaking from head to toe and I really feel like I almost died. And dad barely even noticed she was being insane which is actually great, like not sarcastically kinda great, because that means he can survive this. I cannot. And soon I will be gone. So soon. It couldn't have just been nice for me before I left. Did you know that some people just get to go to school and it's like normal for them? They just pack and then they like go? And their parents are sad to see them go but happy for their future? They don't have to fight for their fucking lives just to get through to the day they leave with hopefully all their things intact even after they've already gotten rid of so many of their things just for the sake of you?

This post is so self pitying, whatever. Soon I'll be happy and and I won't self pity no more. Insert that fucking transcendental quote from hill house the one I've been screaming in my head for weeks you know the one

[majoringinsarcasm]

I read IG comments again this is a sad ramble don’t read this. Sincerely if you read this and are rude I’m blocking you lol

I think ironically the most frustrating and sad thing about all those “why other countries hate Americans” posts is that

1) It points out very legitimate awful things that current day citizens Cannot Control or Change

2) The sweeping generalizations that, while anyone can have, feel very white American leaning

Don’t be me don’t read Instagram comments but I just read a bunch and so much of it was either your government sucks, which yes it does thanks bestie. Or just education stuff and how we don’t know geography or other cultures or history. Or a very unique “you call yourselves Americans despite other counties being in America you’re so entitled by claiming that title for yourself”

And maybe it’s bc I’m black. Maybe it’s bc my brain doesn’t like rules that I can’t follow the logical road to. But. That’s not our fault.

And what I mean by that is that we only know what we are taught. That’s not a full excuse to NOT CARE about other countries but as children and into adulthood schools only tell us So Much. And if you went to a lower income school you didn’t even learn as much as higher income schools. We’re in school for 12-14 years before age 18 and then it’s either Go To College to get a job or Get a Job right away. And things like learning other languages or culture studies are only useful For A Job if you’re going into that field.

Now. I would’ve loved if my school taught other languages. We had Spanish but it was the “memorize this thing” type and not actually teaching you how the language is formed. And it’s really hard to learn a New Language as an adult. (Which is why the insistence that people speak English when they move or immigrate here is so stupid). BUT I wasn’t. We didn’t have the money for that. And as you can see by current events what history WAS taught is trying to be BANNED as of now.

This sounds so very “be sad for Americans” or US citizens I guess if ppl are gonna be picky about what we were told to call ourselves without any alternative which again We Did Not Choose. But also the US isn’t just white people. And there are many people white included who HATE how things are run. How land is stolen and people silenced and killed. How our money is used without our permission to fund wars and not given to those who need it. Many of us who might be proud of individual roots aren’t proud of the country itself. But uhhhh good luck getting Money to Go anywhere else.

It’s like being tied to a chair with tape over our mouths watching as other counties talk about how we’re terrible and live under a corrupt government and we kill people and we kill ourselves. And thrashing and screaming because WE FUCKING LIVE HERE. THE AWFUL SHIT YOURE COMPLAINING ABOUT IS OUR DAILY LIVES. WE ARE THE ONES LIVING LIKE THIS WE ARE THE ONES WHO ARE TOLD ITS FINE TO KILL PPL AS LONG AS ITS THR RIGHT PEOPLE. AND THOSE WHO SPEAK OUT ARE ARRESTED OR KILLED

A man was killed in broad daylight on camera and when people marched for him and protested against police brutality they were met with More brutality! A woman was killed in her bed. A boy was killed going to work. In front of their kids. While fleeing a crime scene. Indigenous people ARE NOT GONE they are still fighting to keep their children in Native families. Like.

I get it. I fucking get it. I truly do. But YOU are seeing an entire patchwork of people under one umbrella. We are living day to day watching people we love and people we don’t know who deserve to just fucking live be utterly crushed. We are kept ignorant on purpose. The rise of AI makes “a simple google search” an entity new obstacle. We don’t control where our races go. Our public transit is not well funded our schools are not well funded. We don’t. Have. Places to be that aren’t Home or Work anymore.

Again this is not to take away from the Active Genocides going on. Or the way the US Government is complicit in many many crimes against humanity.

I’m just saying that many many of us aren’t running around shirtless praising the place. I don’t want to. Live. Thinking I’ll be stuck under awful leadership until I fucking kill myself man. You’re looking at the shitshow from across an ocean. We live here. I can’t explain the disconnect of seeing actual suppression of the truth and education and how fucked up it is and how helpless it is knowing that firing back isn’t as easy as yall make it sound. Not to say we just sit around and do nothing. But some Europeans talk about resistance and shit and it’s like they Kill Us In Public And Get Away With It Over Here.

Idk man. They’re not wrong about some points but it’s sad LIVING here and knowing information about other places is deliberately not taught or readily available. They called it brainwashing but clearly they don’t think about what that actually entails. Never learning about the color red doesn’t mean blue is the best. You’re just never given a chance to see other colors.

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

I don't know if this is helpful at all and please feel free to ignore -

From one socially anxious and awkward ND person to another, the technique I've found to connect with people is to act like/make yourself believe that whoever you're around already likes you. Approaching people with open body language and an affect like you are casually DELIGHTED to see them works wonders. Also, I make sure my energy and movement is low and slow, since getting wound up and moving too fast conveys tension.

You weren't asking for advice so again feel free to ignore, and I'm sorry if this comes off wrong! I just hope that I can sometimes help other people find their way more quickly and with less pain than I did.

see i don't actually have social anxiety (i have other flavours of anxiety). what i do have is a powerful awareness that when a group of people have all known each other and spent time around each other for three years and you have been there for two months and only know half of their names, it is extremely fucking hard to join in a conversation, because they are naturally talking about things and people you don't know about and therefore you cannot contribute. and while people introduce themselves once the first time you meet, when they all already know each other, they don't ever do so again bc it doesn't occur to them, so the ones whose names i don't know? yeah i'm gonna keep not knowing them because there is not really a non-rude way of inserting yourself into somebody else's existing friend group without being invited to do so

and because i have sensory issues and a mobility impairment and don't drink, i am often on the edge of a room, sitting in a chair, reliant on other people coming to me because i can't stand enough to mingle, and nobody ever thinks, "oh, that person doesn't have a friend group here, I will invite them to join our conversation". at best you get a few pity remarks from a group nearby, or one person comes to talk to you on their own because their friends have left. if they think about you at all, they probably think, "oh, that person is sitting on the edge of the room, they don't want to talk to anyone," and they don't realise I'm sitting there because my legs don't fucking work and for some goddamn reason all these goddamn social functions require people to stand up for an hour

and even if you end up with a nodding acquaintance with certain people, nobody ever thinks to invite you to anything extra because they all already have friends to invite to things. so you never get past acquaintance, and all the while the existing friend groups are getting tighter, because that's what happens

and the result is that every social event involves a couple of conversations on the periphery of a room and then a complete overwhelming sense of alienation and isolation that makes the whole thing wildly unpleasant to endure so then the next time there's a social thing i don't go to it, because why would i travel four miles to not be part of anyone's conversations, and then that perpetuates the issue, and it fucking sucks

the result is that i can count on my fingers the number of people i know in this environment and they are all closer to each other than to me so i ALWAYS feel like I am intruding when i try to be part of their conversations. there just aren't enough other new people in a similar position to me for me to have been able to form friendships outside of the existing cliques

[boopliette]

this was the only good part

(@deboracabral same hat)

[ch4nb4ng]

Affliction

Paring: chan x afab!reader

Genre: Friends to lovers, college party

Warnings: Making out, nipple play, praise, dirty talk, 69, oral (f and m receiving), cum play, mentions of erections, squirting

Word count: 4.9k

Tagging: This idea couldn't have been made without j (@jsung01) so thank you for helping me come up with this and proof reading it for me :( Also tagging el (@spilledtee) bc she said was looking forward to it so here's the notification!

Summary: The party was fun, Chan was great company, but when Changbin accidentally spills a drink you and stains your clothes, Chan is reminded of his dirty little fantasies where you happen to be the main character.

You began to laugh, simultaneously taking a sip from your almost empty red cup as you heard Jisung tell his so-called ‘scary’ story.

“Jisung dude come on,” Changbin snickers, playfully hitting him on the chest, “that was one of the funniest stories I’ve ever heard. There really wasn’t anything scary about it at all.”

The other 5 boys nodded their heads in agreement with Changbin. To be fair, Jisung forgetting his clothes in the communal dryer and then remembering as he was halfway through cleaning himself in the communal shower, then running from one end of the campus to the other with nothing but a towel wrapped around him for the second time: it was hilarious. Scary for him, but nothing but amusement for you and his 5 other friends.

However, the storytelling was one of the least fascinating things that were happening. There was a variety of things to focus on: the blaring music, the array of cups on the kitchen counter, couples, throuples, foursomes, making out in almost every corner of Chan’s house. But the main thing that was taking up all of your concentration was how close he seemed to be to you at this current moment.

You were leaning, gently sitting on the edge of the coucharm, Chan sitting right next to you on a single chair, his ankle accidentally brushing against your lower leg every couple of seconds. Although it seemed like some kind of innocent mistake, you knew it was anything but that. You could feel his eyes lingering on you with every collision of skin, the sting of his gaze burning holes into the side of your face. You wanted to stare back, see that lustful stare that you had only seen a handful of times; but with other people. You had yet to experience it, personally that was. You turned to him for a brief moment instead, causing him to freeze for a moment, a friendly smile forming on his lips as you finally met his gaze. He took his foot away, crossing his legs as a sign of defeat, knowing very well that he had been caught.

“Is everything okay?”

“Of course y/n,” he smiled, sending you a quick wink.

“Then why do you keep kicking my leg?”

He said nothing, eyes drifting to your lips for a brief moment, a flush of butterflies erupting in your stomach as your eyes followed his trail, but you ignored it.

“So,” you began, hurriedly trying to change the subject, “how was your first two weeks? I feel like I haven’t seen you much.”

“Oh it was all over the place,” he sighed, taking a small sip in between his sentences, “all my professors are really nice though, so I cannot complain.”

“Who wants a drink?”

Seeing as your cup was already empty, the call from Seungmin across the room refilling random cups was perfect timing. Jumping out of your seat, you turned to Chan, holding out your hand as if to give him your cup, cheerfully strolling into the kitchen, gently nudging Minho out of the way and filling the two cups to the brim.

“Woah, y/n,” he smirked, grabbing you by the hips, placing him in front of you and closer to the keg, “someone is eager to party tonight.”

“What can I say Minho, I’m a girl that likes to have fun.”

He gave you barely any time to speak before the hands that had been placed on your hips were spinning you around, enclosing you in the small space between the kitchen bench and his body. His lips curled into a smirk as his eyes traveled up and down your body, eventually bringing them back up to meet your own.

“You want to have fun, huh?”

“Of course,” you scoffed, unfazed by his, in what your mind, was a poor attempt at trying to win you over, “Who doesn’t want to have fun?”

“We can have fun right now”, Minho tilted his head as he knelt his body forwards, drawing dangerously close to yours. ”You want to get out of here?”

You rolled your eyes, breaking free from his grip and turning away from his gaze.

“Nice try, Minho,” you yelled at him as you began walking back to where your friends had been , “Only in your dreams!”

You didn't bother waiting for his response, chuckling to yourself as you walked up to Chan, who had a puzzled frown on his face when he saw your giddy smile.

“What was that about?”, he asked you, nodding towards the spot you walked from.

You glanced behind you. “Oh, that? Just Minho trying to get in my pants again, nothing new”

“Oh, that must be annoying,” he chuckled, a painful one as he hid his jealousy behind a hefty swig of alcohol.

Truth was, Chan was well aware of the scene that had just unfolded in front of his eyes. He saw the whole encounter, the reminder of his annoyance apparent once he looked down at his palms and noticed the crescent shaped marks left by his nails digging too far into his skin. Even Jisung had taken notice, putting his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.

He usually didn’t care who you spoke to, but Minho: Minho was another story. He had a strong disdain for the guy, especially due to his reputation that he had with other people. Using and discarding them like they were purely put in the earth for his and only his benefit. This was a minute detail, however, seeing as Minho wasn’t really involved much with Chan’s circle. He didn’t know what it was, but the idea of you ever having anything to do with the younger boy was infuriating. Not wanting to show said jealousy to you was integral to your friendship in Chan’s opinion. He still didn’t really know why he was so jealous anyway.

“It’s fine,” you sighed, quickly changing the subject. “I'm bored, do you want to go dance?”

“The fact that you even have to ask me speaks volumes about our friendship.”, Chan replied with a smile.

You shook your head, a placid smile on your lips as you stood up and took Chan’s wrist, beginning to mildly tug him to the living room dance floor. You began to giggle, but sadly you were interrupted, feeling something, more yet, someone clumsily hit your shoulder. Everything felt in slow motion for a minute, until you looked up and saw Changbin’s mouth open, two cups on the floor, and a wet patch covering your jeans.

“Changbin!”

“Fuck y/n, I’m so sorry, they just slipped out of my hand I-”

“It‘s fine dude,” Chan sighed, keeping his calm, friendly composure, “we know how clumsy you can be.”

You chuckled, admiring the way he was trying to make light of the situation.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

You nodded, following Chan upstairs to his bathroom. You were in luck, seeing as this was Chan’s house, he knew where everything was kept. Opening the cupboard in front of the vanity, you sighed, disappointed by the fact that your favorite pants were now ruined, sticky with alcohol and pure regret. You really should have worn the skirt that you originally planned to.

“Here, some paper towel,” he smiled, handing you the thin material, “do you need anything else?”

“You stood up from the edge of the counter top, looking down and seeing the wet patch coincidentally covering your crotch. A sudden heat came to your cheeks, feeling his gaze lingering in the same spot. The tension in the air had suddenly become thick, and you ripped the towel out of his hands, quickly turning around and attempting to clean yourself.

“Uhm,” he mumbled, “I’ll just be in my room, while you, uhm, help yourself. I’ll give you a pair of pants to change into when you're done.”

You ignored him, praying for him to leave the room sooner. He was making it so weird. It was just a stain that happened to be in an unfortunate place. You rolled your eyes, forgetting how immature your best friend could be sometimes. It was seriously just a wet patch.

You grunted, trying with maximum effort to dry yourself as much as possible before opening the bin and chucking it in. Ignoring your thoughts, you opened the door, striding down the hall and to the left: Chan’s room. You knocked on the door, hearing the faint ‘come in’ from the other side as you opened it slightly ajar, making sure Chan wasn’t doing anything… weird. Why would he be doing something weird? He was genuinely just waiting for you so he could help you wear dry, comfortable clothes; he was being a good friend.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you saw your friend sitting on the edge of his bed. The look on his face was odd. It wasn’t a smile, but it wasn’t a frown either. And why was he holding a pillow across his legs?

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you nodded, eyebrows now furrowed, “can I have that pair of new pants now?”

“Oh yeah sure,” he jittered, “they're just in my drawer.”

“Which one?”

The colour on his face began to drain. His legs shifted slightly. You had never seen him so stiff.

“Okay well, are you going to show me where?”

He looked at the floor, mumbling any barely coherent words comprehend.

“What?”

“I said, please don’t make me get up and show you.”

“Why not, I don’t know where they are, it is your wardrobe.”

He left you standing there. Not moving, not speaking, simply doing nothing. His stubbornness was making you frustrated, but it was when he moved the pillow against his groin slightly, that you noticed. The puzzle piece in your head was beginning to fit together, and create a perfect masterpiece.

“Why are you being so weird right now?”

“I’m not being weird,” he snapped, fixing his gaze on anywhere but your pants, “you’re being weird?”

“I am? You’re the one that’s acting like a robot right now. And why are you holding a pillow?”

He said nothing, again, making your frustration peak at a new high. Storming towards him, you gripped the pillow, giving him no time to react before you yanked it away, leaving him open, and extremely exposed.

“Y/n,” he yelled, now covering himself with his palms, “why did you do that!”

“Because,” you shrugged a smirk playing on your lips, “you were being really awkward. Now I know why.”

The chuckle on your lips was making him angry. This was so embarrassing for him. Being aroused over such a small thing. It was pathetic.

“Stop laughing,” he groaned, waving his hand in front of you, “it’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry,” you stumbled, gasping for air between each fit of laughter, “it’s just, how could you possibly have a boner right now?”

“Because of you.”

Your fit of joy came to a very sudden halt. Did you hear that correctly?

“Because of me?”

“Yes! Okay? Because of you, and because of that stupid stain on your pants.”

Your confusion was now at an all time peak. What the hell was he talking about? How could a gross beer stain make him so horny? It made no sense. You were distracted by your comedic enjoyment, completely unaware of how big his bulge truly was. Your eyes widened, cognitions solely focused on how much his cock was straining against his pants. Chan took notice, his arousal intensifying at the way you ogled him.

“You like what you see?”

“Uhm” you coughed, “I do, but what about me having a sticky stain on my pants, that obviously isn’t cum, get you so worked up like this?”

“It’s embarrassing,” he whined, tearing his eyes away from your intense gaze, “I don’t want to tell you.”

A sigh of annoyance escaped your lips. You did love him, but his stubbornness was something you wish you could slap him out of. You simply would not accept that as an answer, but there was a way you could get it out of him.

You took a couple of steps closer, inches away from him as you dropped to your knees, enjoying the choking gasp that was strangled from his lips as you became eye level with his raging erection. Placing either hand on his upper thighs, you sighed, pretending to be upset with your best friend.

“Come on baby,” you cooed, hands sliding closer and closer to his aching heat, “tell me, what’s got you so fired up right now?”

“I told you already,” he whined, momentarily moving away from you, “you.”

“Yeah, but,” you whispered, spreading his legs wide, “tell me more. Is this the first time you have thought of me like this?”

“Come on y/n, you know the answer, please don’t torture me like this.”

“Chan, come on,” you pouted, “you’re not making this any fun, don’t you want to have some fun?”

“Please,” he whined, feeling your index fingers barely brushing where he wanted you the most, “please suck me off.”

The forwardness of his statement took you back for a moment, subtracting your hands and looking up at him. His gaze was weak, but it was there. He kept them fixated on your pants. It didn’t matter anyway, the feeling of your hands softly rubbing over his still clothed cock was making you feel lightheaded.

“Is that what you want, baby?”

“Yes,” he hissed, no secondary thought coming to his mind, “I want you to suck my dick like you do to all those other guys.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, allowing his words to have maximum impact, “that would feel so nice.”

His voice, so dark and sultry, yet so needy and desperate was corrupting your thoughts entirely. Any prior hesitation you had about how this could change your friendship for the worst had dissipated. Every fiber of being wanted nothing more than to wrap your lips around his anguished cock. Make him beg the answer you so desperately needed out of him.

Your left hand moved to his zipper, right hand unbuttoning the single button one swift motion. The sound of each tooth from the zipper felt like an eternity to him.

“Faster please,” he whispered impatiently, “please y/n, faster.”

You truly wanted to take your time: you really did, but as soon as he lifted his hips and helped your slip of his pants, and you saw his throbbing member, all coherent thoughts of teasing and taking your time were gone. The fact that he was wearing no undergarments was so hot. Almost like he planned for something like this to happen.

He didn’t, but he was getting hornier the longer he went without being touched. His thoughts were all over the place. There were so many times that he sat in this exact spot, with you in this exact position so many times. He stroked himself off at his desire for him to have his cock all the way into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. The gags he pictured erupting and bubbling in your throat and spilling out of your lips had become so realistic. All of his fantasies he had created of you were basically brought to life. Chan truly thought that if he made his imagery of you participating in these filthy, naughty acts, they would satisfy his wants and needs, because he really thought that this would never happen. But it was happening right now, and my god, was he enjoying this 1000x times more than other erotic imaginations he once created.

You titled as close as you could to his shaft, coughing and parting your lips, letting a smooth line of saliva drip from your mouth, coating the tip of his slit, and causing his hips to jolt in anticipation. You continued your wet assault, pushing your tongue out flat as you licked a long, hard stripe up the backside of him.

“Fuck,” was all he could say, hands instinctively travelling to your scalp and interlocking anything he could hold onto.

You chuckled against him, finally letting yourself have a hint of how he tastes as you wrapped your lips around his tip. The hisses and groans that escaped his lips were nothing but music to your ears. The further you sunk onto him, the louder he became. You were sure someone from the party, oh yeah the party, could hear him; but you didn’t care. If anything, your excitement increased. The idea of someone, preferably one of Chan’s friends, hearing you make him feel this good was making you dizzy.

You began to take him in your mouth effortlessly, cheeks hollowing every time you reached the base of his cock. He pushed his hand in the back of your head, lightly thrusting his hips into your mouth, the gags that bubbled in your throat adding to his satisfaction to an even greater extent.

“Hmm,” you hummed, replacing your mouth with your hand to take a break, “is this how you pictured me?”

“Yes,” he grunted, looking down at you, “there’s so many things I want, you have no idea.”

You paused, taking your hand away from his cock, creeping onto the bed with your legs on either side of his hips. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smiled, your jeans hit the perfect angle against your heart and you pushed down onto him, fiercely grinding yourself against him.

“Hmmm,” you moaned, enjoying the gentle friction, “is that why you got so turned on by my pants?”

“Fuck,” he paused, gripping your hips and attempting to speed up the awfully slow pace you had set, “you don’t know what I wanna do to your right now.”

“Tell me,” you whispered, lips resting in the crook of his neck, “I’m dying to find out.”

“I want to make you feel so good y/n, you have no idea.”

“Fine,” you hissed, taking your head off his chest and looking into his eyes, then his lips. God his lips. So plump and ready to be attacked. You leaned forward, lip attaching to his as you began to move ferociously, a combination of moans and groans being shared amongst the two of you as things really began to heat up. There was so much passion, so much lust. So much want and need from the both of you, just as hungry as each other for the other’s desire.

Chan pulled away, admiring the heavy pants of your chest as he grabbed your hips, much firmer than before. He pushed you aside. Standing up, he lifted his shirt, exposing his bare body to you. You had seen him shirtless a million and one times before, but this time, it was different. You were seeing him in a whole new different light. He was always just your innocent little best friend. But now, he was the sexiest person you had ever laid your eyes on. His whole body was so toned, you couldn’t help it. Dipping your hands underneath your pants, past your panties, and into your folds was the only way to relieve the pent up stress you felt in your body at this current moment.

“You’re so hot,” he growled, following your actions in stroking himself, “does that feel good?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered, bucking your hips against your own fingers, “can you touch me?”

“You want me to touch you, pretty girl?”

“Please.”

“Stand up.”

You need say no more, as Chan brought you to your feet, swiftly discarding you of any and every item of clothing you had on your body. The heat rose to your cheeks as it hit you that your body was now completely exposed to him. He made a step closer, digits bruising against your stomach as Chan searched your body. He let his hands roam, making your body shiver under his tender touch. You could feel yourself melting, body barely able to stand as he moved closer. He let his finger travel closer and closer to your chest, softly brushing over your nipple to test the waters. Your body shuddered against him, a sharp intake of air coming into your chest in response. A smirk appeared on Chan’s face. He loved the fact that such little effort made you into a mess.

“You wanna know what I want to do to you?”

You nodded, not wanting to embarrass yourself from the lack of control you had over your vocal chords. He pressed a kiss to your lips, creating a trail across your jaw, down your neck, and back to your chest. He looked up at you once more, simultaneously capturing your left nipple in his mouth as you opened your mouth, eyebrows furrowed, and hands interlocking in his hair as he harshly sucked on the exposed skin.

“I want to,” he paused, pressing a kiss to your left nipple, “make you cum so hard,” he paused again, pressing a kiss to your right nipple, “that you’ll be shaking, begging me to stop.”

The color of his eyes had changed, nothing but black whirling inside of them as he grabbed you by your hips, setting himself down on the bed first. He turned your body around, leaving your ass in his face and his dick in front of yours.

Chan bit down on his bottom lip, hands on either side of your ass as he spread your cheeks, humming in satisfaction as he enjoyed the view. Yes, he was ogling, but you didn’t mind, especially since his cock was right in front of you. You sighed, leaning down and taking him into your mouth once more, another groan erupting from behind you as he bucked his hips, trying to get a view of him sucking his dick like he had pictured.

“Fuck,” he spat, spreading your folds with this middle and index finger, “you’re so good at that baby, fuck!”

A hum of satisfaction came from your lips, your chest feeling warm at such a nice, gentle praise. The contrast between the sweet words, and the indecent acts that you were fulfilling.

You became lost in your sexual thoughts, eyes fluttering shut as you enjoyed feeding into Chan's pleasure. His cock was also super nice to suck on. Just like a lollipop. You were truly in your element, that is, until you felt a wet substance. His noises were consistent, becoming slightly muffled as he pushed his fingers into his mouth, drowning them with his own substance as he painted a line down your core, prodding them at your extremely aroused entrance.

“Hmhm,” you whined, choking on his length. You took him out of your mouth for a moment, substituting your hand as you let out a loud moan.

“C-chan, that feels so good.”

“You like that baby?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, digging your hips into his fingers in any attempt to increase the friction, “so good baby.”

Your useless whimper was enough to send him into a buzz. He stuck out his tongue, aggressively attacking your pussy, teeth brushing against your bundle of nerves as you continued to rock against him. The moans, which were minor pants before, became an endless string of noise, the pleasure becoming immense the longer he kept his tongue against your clit. The gratification you were receiving from Chan’s minimal, yet extremely skilful kitten licks on your clit was so much, it was becoming hard to keep steady on his cock. You took your lips away once again, this time, pumping him hard with your left hand, your right hand gently massaging his balls as you saw his legs shake, committing to the desired impact you wanted to have on him.

“Oh shit,” he whispered, pushing two fingers into you, “you’re gonna make me cum right now if you keep doing that.”

“You’re close already huh?”

“Yes,” he growled, barely giving you time to respond, “don’t stop.”

His words motivated you greatly. You kept your hand on his balls, mouth now hollowed and returning to his tip. You began to suck, extremely harsh, wallowing and tracing his slit back and forth. The action caused him to jerk into your mouth; but you weren’t having any of that. Moving your grip to his sides, you giggled, pushing his hips aggressively against the bed. The last thing you needed was him helping you reach his high. You wanted to do this on your own, show him the good girl you really were and make him cum solely based on your skills.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpered, “I’m so close y/n.”

“Cum then.”

Chan said your name over and over, any and all vulnerability being exposed as his stomach coiled against your chest, legs shaking as his substance of the highest arousal coated your lips. You smiled, enjoying the taste of his orgasm that you brought him to smother you. You took a finger to your lips, sucking on them with no question.

“Hmm,” you purred, “all that pineapple juice you drink truly pays off sometimes huh?”

“Of course it does.”

You lifted your leg up, attempting to climb off the bed and stand up, but you were interrupted by a delightful surprise, Chan nipped at your ankle, hooking his arm around it as he brought you back to your original position.

“We’re not done yet pretty girl,” he growled, “turn around.”

You did as he said, his eyes now in line with your core. Hooking his arms around your knees, you gasped, taken aback by the brute force he used to bring you to his lips. You looked down at him, the look of eagerness in his eyes making your clit tingle in anticipation.

“You wanna know why your pants made me so wet?”

“Yes.”

His finger plunged into your folds once more, soothingly massaging your knub as you let out a ferocious moan in response to his attack.

“Because princess, I want to make you cum so hard, you’re squirting all over me.”

He attacked again, giving you no time to respond as he situated his palms across your chest, flicking your nipples mercilessly, lips basically suctioned onto your clit as your body jerked in response. Your head was thrown back, eyes shut tightly, as you began to lightly rock back and forth on this tongue.

“Oh fuck,” was all you could say, followed by his name in different high pitched whimpers, “Chan.”

He hummed against you, the vibrations doing wonders through your body. The knot in your stomach was forming very abruptly, becoming together with each millisecond as Chan continued his rough, yet very highly skilled blitz on you. Your head was feeling drowsy, your jaw was open wide, hips were becoming sporadic. Everything was leading perfectly to the moment you’ve been waiting for. The build up had become so intense within a small period of time, and Chan being relentless with your body was not helping.

“Right there,” you gasped, looking down to see the edge of his tongue inside of your whole, “oh my god right there please baby don’t stop.”

The begs and pleads of mercy that escaped your lips every few seconds truly was music to his ears. He wanted to stop every second moment, fill your mind with the dirtiest of words and humiliate you, but you were already too far gone, and he would feel guilty in some way if he didn’t give you what you wanted.

Your legs were beginning to shake. Your hair was disheveled, your own hands tugging at the roots as you slid yourself farther and farther down onto his tongue, letting him fuck the shit out of you with his mouth.

“Chan please,” you moaned, becoming completely lost in the pleasure, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me then,” he paused, reattaching his lips to your clit, “I want to see how good I make you feel.”

Your breaths were already extremely heavy, a soft grunt coming from your lips. Everything had suddenly become so overwhelming. He could tell you were feeling it too. The way your face was flushed, and the perspiration that had gathered across the sleekness of your collarbone; it made him want to go even harder. His tongue was now moving at an ultra fast pace. His change in tempo made you scream a little, unaware that it was humanly possible to do something as good as this. It was enough to finally take you over the edge.

Your body became numb, hips gently curling around Chan’s tongue as he let you ride out your high, the excess stimulation making your body completely shut down. You collapsed on top of him, completely unaware of doing so. Your vision had become blurred, and all you could feel now was lying beside him, hands enveloping you into a warm embrace. You looked over at him, your face turning into a state of shock when you saw the mass liquid glistening across his entire chin.You lifted a hand, trying to clean it off of his face, and save yourself the embarrassment and reminder that it was Chan, your best friend, who had brought you to such a distraught state. Over an accidental beer stain.

“Oh shit, I wanna say I’m sorry, but I’m really not.”

“Don’t be sorry y/n,” he smirked, “that’s exactly the response I was looking for.”

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Ivy & Stone, Chapter Three: London Nights

pairing: victorian au!javi gutierrez x ofc (lady florence)

chapter rating: E (MINORS DNI, period-typical class/gender dynamics, desire, pining, infidelity??, masturbation (male), angsty-ish ending)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: finally found face claims that match the idea of the Bell family that i have in my head, so if you’re curious as to what i imagine they all look like (lord thomas is lookin a lil 🤤) i linked it below. i will also being doing posts for the Gutierrez family, but not for the Morales family bc in this story he’s an orphan.

series masterlist | the bell family moodboard

One Month Later — October, 1856

“Miss Florence,” Lord Javier greeted his guest eagerly, bowing in front of her before turning to her brother, Benjamin. “Lord Benjamin, it’s nice to see you again. I trust your family is doing well?”

“They’re all in perfect health, thank you, my lord.” Benjamin, ever reserved and the perfect child, set aside his overprotective nature for the night after weeks of his sister practically begging him to arrange another dinner with the viscount-heir. “Will your mother and father be joining us as well tonight?”

“No, unfortunately they have made other arrangements for dinner tonight. It’s just the three of us along with Mr. Seaworth who’s waiting in the dining room.” Javier let his eyes comb over Lady Florence’s form, her beauty growing harder to ignore with each meeting.

She looked particularly radiant tonight, wearing an emerald green gown that complimented her golden skin and dark brown curls, a couple ringlets framing her heart shaped face. Though her dress was rather simple in design, forgoing all the ornate beading and frill that all the ladies at court seemed to love, she still would make every head in every room turn when she walked in.

Clearing his throat in an attempt to rid himself of his dishonorable thoughts, he cracked a nervous smile, turning his eyes to Lord Benjamin. “Well, shall we?”

“Let us not keep Mr. Seaworth waiting,” Florence gave Lord Javier a teasing smile as she started off towards the dining room, both men in tow behind her, seemingly accepting her dominance.

“My! You look more exquisite with each passing day, Miss Florence,” Mr. Seaworth greeted the lady with a beaming smile, grabbing her gloved hand and placing a kiss upon it as he bowed.

“Such a flatterer, Mr. Seaworth.” Florence teased as the man stood upright, his eyes twinkling with desire for the young woman.

Javier hadn’t failed to notice his companion’s attempts at flirtation, his heart thumping quickly in his chest as he watched the two jest with ease while he struggled to form a sentence in her presence.

“Miss Florence,” he interrupted, causing both sets of eyes to turn to him, standing behind one of the beautifully crafted wooden dining chairs he intended for her to sit at—conveniently right beside his. Lady Florence nodded at Mr. Seaworth before leaving him to walk around the table, joining Javier and allowing him to help her get seated. “I hope you don’t mind my keeping you close. I would quite like to pick your mind about a few things.”

“Such as?” She asked, her eyes glued to him as he seated himself at the head of the table, Mr. Seaworth sitting on his other side directly in front of Florence while Benjamin sat next to his sister.

“Such as your affinity for the country,” he took a sip of his wine after his servants made their rounds. “I’ve tried to understand it, but for the life of me, I cannot think of anything that would keep one occupied out there.”

“Life isn’t about occupation, my lord,” she quipped with a raise of her brow. “In fact, I often strive to be as unoccupied as possible.”

“One could reason the mere act of striving to stay unoccupied is an occupation, wouldn’t you agree?” He challenged, watching as her smile turned into a grin, a chuckle escaping her lips.

“I suppose you’re right.” Florence felt that familiar flame inside of her that lit every time she was in the lord’s presence, one that immediately filled her with guilt.

Though she had long harbored a girlish crush on Lord Javier, she had assumed her love for Francisco would make it disappear, but the more time she spent in his presence—his sharp wit and undeniable charm a refreshing change of pace from the usual boring conversations she had with equally boring potential suitors—the more she was beginning to realize that perhaps love didn’t quite work that way. Perhaps it was possible to want two different things simultaneously. And perhaps that made things all the more complicated than they already were.

“How has London been treating you, my lord?” Benjamin interrupted the smitten staring contest between the soon-to-be viscount and the Lady Bell.

“Well enough, but I must admit, I have a deep love for Paris, and I miss it dearly.” Javier admitted, his eyes reluctantly leaving the woman beside him to meet her brothers stare. “But I suppose the time has come for me to set aside my own wishes and tend to my family.”

“Surely your artistic genius can continue here,” Benjamin argued, his practical mind unable to comprehend a more artistic way of living.

“Let us hope,” Javier chuckled nervously, taking another, larger sip of his wine. Florence studied him carefully as he kept his eyes down, wearing a small smile. The lord looked boyish, almost, his nerves written all over his face.

Was it possible she finally met someone with as little taste for London and society as her?

“Seaworth, what time is your play tonight?” Javier changed the subject, piquing both Bell’s interest.

“Oh! Are you an actor, Mr. Seaworth?” Lord Benjamin asked with interest, having always had an affinity for theater, or the women in it at least.

“I’m afraid I lack the talent,” Mr. Seaworth chuckled and shook his head. “No, I am a playwright. There’s a show tonight at midnight, if the two of you would like to come.”

“Yes!” Javier exclaimed with a giddy grin, looking to Florence who sat with a quirked eyebrow, seemingly amused by his reaction. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture a bit and attempted to salvage his self respect. “I mean, I would be honored to have you both in my box tonight should you wish to come.”

“Sister?” Benjamin turned to Florence and asked her for her opinion, all eyes in the room now on her, awaiting her response. Florence smiled nervously and nodded, eyes traveling from her brothers to Lord Javier’s.

“We would be honored, my lord. Thank you.”

•••

While at the theater, Florence watched from a distance as Lord Javier was crowded by a flock of eligible ladies hoping for a chance to woo the one-day viscount.

“Do you think it’s all for the title?” Benjamin whispered to her as he stood beside her in the foyer, both of them studying the scene carefully.

“It surely has a part to play,” she exhaled, turning to look at her older brother. “But Lord Javier has many things going for him. I’m sure whatever lady he ends up proposing to will be happy with her lot.”

“Watch out, sister. One might get the idea you’re actually interested in a high society courtship,” he teased, bumping her shoulder with his.

“Perhaps you should keep your worries focused on your own situation, dear brother.” He chuckled and shook his head.

“Oh, I am. I’ve already begun courting two ladies of noble blood…and high dowrys.” he declared with confidence, Florence rolling her eyes at the antiquated tradition of the family paying the husband-to-be for agreeing to marry their daughter or sister.

Where was the thrill in marrying for money? For security? Where was the ache and the burning, the longing and the sweet relief of being with someone you loved? As she looked around the room it was clear to her that she wouldn’t find it here, not unless—

“My lady,” Lord Javier approached her with that accent of his and his soft, good natured smile, his hand held out for hers. She felt her hand shake as she rested her palm on his, their gloves a painful barrier. Leaning down in a bow, he pressed his lips against her knuckles and she felt her breath hitch, her eyes searching the room only to see that everyone was already watching. Slipping her hand away, she cleared her throat, watching as Javier took the rejection well, his smile never wavering as he looked to her brother. “Shall we head up to my box, then?”

“Lead the way,” Benjamin looped your arm through his, walking with you behind Lord Javier as you made your way through the foyer and up the stairs to the Gutierrez family box, four golden-framed chairs set up in the red velvet lined balcony. “How does one acquire a permanent box at the theater, Lord Javier?”

“Please, when it’s just us, call me Javi. I get so bored of hearing my name spoken so formally. It takes all the joy out of conversation when I feel I’m only being spoken to because of my title,” Javi dismissed Benjamin’s formality with a smile, Florence and her brother sharing a look of approval at the lord’s humble nature. “And to answer your question, all you must do is donate far too much money to any cause and they’ll quickly plaster your family name on a gold plaque for all to marvel at. Philanthropy, they call it.”

“And what do you call it, Javi?” Both Benjamin and Javi looked at Florence with wide eyes, the sound of such an informal nickname falling from her lips causing both men to lose focus for completely different reasons, Benjamin’s certainly more honorable than Javi’s.

“I…call it thinly veiled narcissism.” Florence chuckled and nodded in agreement, her heart fluttering in her chest with joy as she seemingly stumbled on the only man in high society that she could have a like-minded conversation with. “But even then, here I am sitting in my velvet lined box of thinly veiled narcissism.”

Benjamin cleared his throat, noticing the tension between his sister and the viscount-heir, their smiles and unwavering eye contact more intimate than he was comfortable witnessing. “So, will there be another joining us?”

“Yes, my cousin, Lady Maribel.” Javi broke out of his gaze, turning his eyes to Benjamin’s and unintentionally leaving Florence wanting more.

“I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Benjamin replied apathetically until the woman in question walked in, her skin dark like chocolate, her coiled hair slicked back in a tight bun to show off her perfect bone structure. Benjamin adjusted his collar as he felt his neck warm with desire, her smile nearly forcing him to his knees as she greeted her cousin with a hug. Though Benjamin was well accustomed to enjoying the company of beautiful women of all classes, something about Lady Maribel sent his mind and heart racing.

“Javi, I am so glad you’re back in town. It’s far too dull without the vivid color you bring with you,” she complimented, her cousin waving off her praise with his hand before gesturing at the two Bell’s.

“Maribel, this is Lady Florence and Lord Benjamin Bell,” he introduced, Florence reaching out her hand for the woman to shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Maribel,” Florence beamed at the young woman, no older than four and twenty, the same age as her brother.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Florence. All the talk of your beauty has not been exaggerated, you look absolutely radiant this evening,” Florence blushed at the high praise coming from a woman so beautiful, feeling more than thankful when Maribel turned her attention to Benjamin. “My lord, you also look quite dashing tonight.”

“I—“ Florence and Javi both fought back a chuckle as Benjamin choked on his words, clearly taken with Maribel’s beauty and grace. “Thank you, miss.”

“A man of few words. My favorite kind.” Maribel teased as she took the seat behind her cousin, Benjamin sitting beside her while you sat in front of him next to Javi. The pair chatted away behind Florence and Javi, even as the lights dimmed signaling the play’s beginning.

“Seems they’re quite taken with each other,” Javi leaned in to whisper to Florence as the overture began for the play, her smile widening at the sound of amusement in his voice. She turned her head and was shocked to find him so close to her, his chair having almost certainly been scooted a few inches nearer than it had been when the first arrived. “At least if your brother weds this season, it will provide a distraction from your own love life—or lack thereof.”

“What makes you think I am lacking in love?” She asked with a smile, her eyes darting between his and his lips. Javi blushed as he caught her in the act of admiring him, leaning away a bit to give himself some respite.

“I don’t think you’re lacking anything, Miss Florence. That’s clear as day.” His tone, though still hushed, flooded her mind with thoughts of how he’d sound when they were alone…in her bed. “Though, perhaps you’ll think about telling me the true reason for your aversion to marriage.”

“I’m not averse to marriage, Javi,” he shook his head and smiled at her with a knowing look, the two communicating their equally yoked attraction without ever needing to say a word. “It’s arranged marriage that I’m averse to.”

“I should have guessed. You’re far too clever to buy into all of this antiquated tradition.” Florence chuckled and shrugged her perfectly poised shoulders, looking away from him and at the stage to save herself from the smitten grin growing in her face.

Feeling bold in the darkened room of the theater, Javi reached his leg over to brush against the fabric surrounding hers, leaving his knee flush with hers as they sat much too close. Florence sucked in a harsh breath at the warmth of his contact even through the many layers of her skirts, but somehow kept her eyes locked on the play, her cheeks heated with desire.

“Am I disturbing your focus, Miss Florence?” Javier leaned in to whisper to her, his breath fanning over her ear.

She turned her head to the side, eyes taking in his big brown eyes that reminded her so much of Francisco’s, though they carried much more mischief in them than her lover back home.

“I…must excuse myself.” She got up quickly and whispered some quick excuse to Benjamin about needing to use the restroom, her brother far too caught up in Maribel to care about her doings.

Javi sat there for a moment, his fingers drumming on his thigh as he waited an appropriate amount of time before also excusing himself, desperate to find her and apologize for his forwardness.

Careful to look down the hallway for any stragglers that might find them, Javi found Florence outside on the balcony, fanning her hands over her cheeks and cursing at the moon.

“Miss Florence,” he started, the sight of her nearly hyperventilating enough to rid him of the less than honorable thoughts that lingered in the back of his head every time he looked at her. She turned around quickly, jumping at his presence. “I am sorry if I startled you or offended you, my lady. I shouldn’t have been so forward—“

“No,” she shook her head, dismissing his apology with a sigh, finally accepting the feelings she’d been trying to fight off out of loyalty to Frankie. “Don’t apologize, my lord. It is I who should be asking for forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness for what? You haven’t done anything dishonorable—“

“My thoughts of you are far from honorable,” she confessed in a whisper, Javi swallowing thickly as their eyes remained glued to one another. “I dare say this to you because I know that you will not judge me for it, you’re a good and open minded man who has seen enough of the world to know that there is so much more to life than honor. There’s art, romance, joy, sun, shame, lust.” She spoke enthusiastically, waving her hands to emphasize her point. Javi stood there completely enthralled, the moonlight and her voice and the passion in her eyes enough to win his heart a hundred times over. “I have tasted the forbidden fruit of lust, and heavens, Javi…it’s hard for me not to crave it again standing here in front of you when you’re looking at me like that.”

“How do you think I feel?” He whispered back, stepping closer to her until his gloved hands were holding both sides of her face. “You are…a rare breed, Miss Bell. And no matter how hard I try to remind myself that I should stay away from you—to not sully you with my sinful desires…I can’t stop thinking of you. You’re filling my every thought, from the moment I wake up until I go to sleep. I try to go on as I was before meeting you and it only feels like I’m playing a part. In order to not want you, I must avoid the truth of what I am and become someone I am not anymore.”

“Don’t,” she placed her shaking hands on top of his, lowering them from her face to her waist. “Don’t hold back anymore.”

Though her heart still beat just as much for her lover in the country, she could and would not deny the flames burning inside of her for Javi. He was completely different in every way than Frankie—mischievous, worldly, a man of art and passion, someone that Florence could not deny stoked flames of intrigue and curiosity in her heart while also satisfying the requirements of her parents.

“I cannot,” he shook his head and let out a shaky breath as Florence tried to pull him down for a kiss, his hands holding her waist firmly to keep her from reaching his lips. “You’re testing my honor, Miss Florence.”

“What must I do?” She asked with the sort of urgency only a girl accustomed to having whatever she wanted could, her patience growing thinner with every second spent in his presence.

“Nothing. I…must go.” He stepped back abruptly, rubbing his hands over his mouth and bearded chin, watching her as though she were some sort of predator waiting to pounce on him.

“Javi—“

“I can’t,” he whispered with a shake of his head. “I will see you at the next ball, Lady Florence. I must wish you a goodnight.”

He left as abruptly as he arrived, Florence watching as he stormed down the hallway, her feet quick to keep up as she followed him through the theater until he was barging through the front doors. Before she could catch up to him, he’d already reached his carriage and climbed inside, leaving her standing alone on the brisk London street as he rode away.

Something ignited inside of her as she stood in the early autumn drizzle, the street around her dark aside from the yellow glow of a couple houses and shops still open, flames dancing inside the windows. Tilting her head back, she couldn’t help but wonder why the icy rain pouring onto her face wasn’t helping to cool down her burning skin, her heart still pounding in her chest even though she’d caught her breath.

Florence felt sick with guilt for craving someone as badly as she had come to crave Javi. What would Frankie think if he could read her mind? How could she be so weak? Falling for a man so easily because of what? His wit? His humility? His charm? His brown eyes that beckoned her closer like a fire in the winter?

“Florence, what are you doing out here all alone?” Benjamin rushed out of the theater and down to his sister standing in the rain. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her soaked form, his arms holding her shoulders as he walked her back into the theater to warm her up. “Have you seen Lord Javier?”

“He…left.” Benjamin scanned his sisters features, her eyes unable to meet his. He must have stumbled upon the truth of her feelings because suddenly he softened his panic and a look of authority took its place.

“Did anyone see?” He whispered the only question that mattered. Swallowing her feelings, Florence shook her head, attempting to gather her composure a bit under his protective stare. “Good.”

“I…I don’t feel very good, Ben,” she sighed, her broken eyes finally meeting her brother’s. Benjamin softened his stern scowl, patting her arm. “I just want to go home.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “Let me just…I would like to quickly say my goodbyes to Lady Maribel.”

“Of course,” she smiled faintly, happy to see him so happy but too caught up in her inner turmoil to be able to show it. “I’ll be waiting in the carriage.”

•••

Javi didn’t know what to do with himself. He paced his bedroom a thousand times over, his head aching from the screaming voices inside arguing about what he should’ve done instead of leaving, but he knew that if he had stayed, he would have done something reckless.

The last thing he wanted was to ruin her reputation, regardless of the fantasies already swimming in his head of him proposing to her. She deserved the right to decide who it was she got to marry, not being forced into it simply because he couldn’t control his urges and someone happened to see them.

And on top of this responsibility he felt about protecting her honor, Javi was also struggling with the cold hard truth that he was a rake. A whore. Whatever you wanted to call it.

He was used to having a lover whenever he wanted in Paris, his appetite and knowledge growing with each fleeting lover. And now there was only one thing that could satisfy his yearning, only one woman he wanted to use his bedroom skills on. The most beautiful jewel of a woman, with the most clever mind he’s ever witnessed. And if his honor wasn’t already being stretched thin, he had to listen to her detail her burning desire to have him. Had to listen to her begging. It took every ounce of his strength to turn around and leave after hearing how pretty she sounded.

As he continued pacing around his bedroom, Javi’s eyes caught a peek of his latest masterpiece waiting by the window, the canvas and easel covered with a beige tapestry aside. He clenched his jaw as he walked towards it, peeling the tapestry off to look at the full painting. A newly finished portrait of his heart’s newest obsession.

Florence Bell.

He painted her from memory, her lips a little smaller than they were in real life, her bright green irises appearing more hazel on the canvas. But small imperfections aside, it did look like her, or at least enough to satisfy the yearning in his heart.

Though his chest swelled with shame, his cock also swelled with desire the longer he stared at her, his lust clearly unable to be ignored any longer. He pulled up a seat in front of the painting and unbuttoned his trousers, pulling his cock out and shuddering as he took in the sight of his purple, weeping head, his shaft twitching as he wrapped his fist tightly around it.

Lifting his eyes back up to the painting, he let out a soft moan, his fist now stroking his cock as he admired every half-accurate feature he’d painted. He imagined her lips, full and pink, spread open around his shaft, her green eyes locked on his as he fed her throat his girth. He imagined the sounds she’d make, the way her brow would furrow and cheeks would flush, the way her lips would look kiss-bitten and swollen from his.

It had been so long since he felt such a consuming desire, her mere existence testing his every virtue. Could it be possible that he finally found what he’d been holding out for all these years? A muse, a lover, a companion…a wife?

Javi moaned her name as he felt his climax wash over him, his seed splattering onto the canvas, painting her face in dripping white.

As he sat there, chest heaving, eyes glued to the way his cum dripped down the canvas, he felt more sure than ever that he was in love. Now, he only needed to do something about it.

One Week Later

Javi’s eyes scanned the ballroom carefully, standing in the corner of the room with Mr. Seaworth. He hoped to spot Florence before she could spot him, that way he could gather his composure and wits before having to speak to her.

The viscount-heir long debated showing up to the ball, having felt sick with shame after having ruined his painting of the young Lady Bell in such a lewd manner. He felt like some pervert, unable to control his desires, acting like all the other brutes in London that he tried so desperately to avoid. He wasn’t sure he could face her, flashbacks of his cum dripping down her painted face turning his cheeks pink for all to see.

“Is Miss Florence going to be here tonight?” Mr. Seaworth asked, sipping his wine and scanning the dance floor. Javi turned his head to the side to glare at his friend, totally oblivious to the lord’s jealousy.

“I expect so. Why? What business do you have with her?” Javi prodded, his brows furrowing as he continued to watch his friend.

“She needs a husband, does she not? I’m not a lord, but I’m plenty wealthy—“

“Are you out of your mind?” Javi snapped, earning his friend’s full attention, Mr. Seaworth narrowing his eyes before relaxing them.

“You’re interested in her?” Mr. Seaworth chuckled. “You’re never interested in these women.”

“I…”

A sweeping sound of awe washed over the room, saving Javi from having to confess to his feelings.

His eyes whipped over to the entrance to watch as Florence walked in, her brother by her side. He quickly found himself gawking like every other man in the room, her golden skin glowing in a powder blue ball gown and sheer lace gloves. Her skin seemed to glow, her eyes bright, jewelry shimmering. She seemed an angel to him, a picture of everything holy and pure and ethereal, and the mere chance to stand in the same room as her was enough to satisfy him for the rest of his life.

“My god,” Mr. Seaworth gasped as she neared the two of them, but her eyes were locked on Javi.

“My lord,” she curtsied before him and he nodded, clenching his fists as he stood speechless. Florence turned her eyes to Mr. Seaworth’s only for a moment. “Mr. Seaworth.”

“May I have a dance?” Mr. Seaworth asked, acting on his only chance to get her attention with every other man in the room waiting in line behind him.

“I’m afraid I was just about to ask Lord Gutierrez for a dance,” she turned her eyes back to Javi’s, the shock in them bringing a smile to her face. “My lord?”

“Yes,” he nodded and held out his arm for her, the feeling of her hand wrapping around his bicep eliciting a soft hum from the lord as he walked them onto the dance floor.

A new song started to play, the two of them beginning their waltz with their eyes locked on each other and no one else.

“You look beautiful tonight, Miss Florence,” Javi whispered, eyes dropping to the rosey pink of her lips, her skin glistening and dewy. “You’ve left everyone quite speechless.”

“You seem to be doing okay,” she reassured with a smirk, Javi letting out a breath of amusement. “I have been thinking about you.”

“Miss Florence,” he warned with a clenched jaw.

“I long for you,” she pleaded in a whisper, and he had to physically look away from her to prevent himself from kissing her in front of everyone to see.

“Florence.” He warned her again, his tone sharper.

“I touch myself and think of you—“

“Amor.”

That shut her up.

Javi turned his eyes back to hers, Florence now the speechless one as he stared at her with a mixture of authority and empathy.

“This isn’t the place.” His voice was softer, less stern.

“Then where?” She questioned, Javi sighing as the song came to an end, the couples separating.

“There is nowhere. Not in this city. Not with everyone watching.” Javi gave her one last longing look before whispering to her. “But in the country…”

“You…and I…in the country?” She suddenly looked pale, causing Javi to quirk an eyebrow at her.

“That way I can visit under the ruse of reuniting with your parents,” he offered and she cracked a nervous smile, nodding. “Sound like a good plan?”

“Yes,” she nodded, quickly swallowing her panic down. “I shall arrange everything.”

“Lady Bell,” an eligible bachelor approached Florence and held his hand out for her to take. “May I have the next dance?”

With one last glance at her, Javi walked away, satisfied with their upcoming plan.

Meanwhile, Florence felt like she was drowning in dread, her worlds colliding, forcing her to face the consequences of her treachery. Frankie would have to manicure the garden while Javi got to court her in it. The very thought alone broke her heart, she couldn’t imagine what it would feel like with him actually there in front of her, looking in at her betrayal.

“My lady?” The man that had asked for a dance cleared his throat and broke her out of her daze, her fake smile returning.

“Pardon me,” she took a breath and rested her hand upon his. “Let us dance.”

•••

taglist: @joelmillerscoffee @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @mariasabana @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @mandomover @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @vanemando15 @wickedmunson @marvel-sw-lover @jediknight122 @harriedandharassed @star-wars-fan-2005 @alwaysdjarin @jalobro @trickstersp8 @mccn-bcys @manuymesut @trinkets01 @tanzthompson @jlmaddinson @hopeamarsu @fanofverymanythings @lovesbiggerthanpride @pinkything @fireproofmarta @littlenosoul @laureliciousdefinition @alwayslurkinginthebackground (please let me know if you’d like to be removed/added)

[orange-waterfalls]

I Call This One: Bold & Brash!

The egos x artist! gn! reader

ty @pokemonpunqueen for the request!

A/N: I’ve decided that I’m gonna write for the egos when I can’t think of anything else or I need practice writing lmao. I mean I was doing that before? But I didn’t know it? listen it’s fine it’ll be fine but FOR NOW I thiiiink I’m gonna take requests. Just a few. I’ll stop when I think it gets too much. This is exactly what it says. I focused on like drawing/painting for “artist”, with some references to animation thrown in there. I did Darkiplier, Wilford, Yancy, Illinois, Google, Eric, and a Host thrown in there bc I love him and I miss him

Word count is 1.5k

Enjoy

Egos x artist!reader

Darkiplier

He’ll want to commission art from you

He makes comments about how Mark is a narcissist but also he’s a narcissist.

Oh look, Dark’s asking you for another picture. What does he want? He wants you to draw him? Again? For the fifth time this fucking month? Wonderful.

He likes looking at how you make art of him, be it stylistic or realistic

He will hang them up all over the fucking house so pace yourself

He’s fine if you draw anybody else

Except Mark. Never Mark. How can he tell, you ask? No fucking clue, but he does

Gets a bit worried that you won’t make enough money to live comfortably

Just because not everyone needs a fucking MANSION-

Will always buy things for you if you ask

Likes to be able to support your job or hobby

Sugar daddy? I mean maybe

Makes sure you eat, sleep, drink water, survive--

Leaves snacks for you at your desk for when you don’t want a meal.

Carries you to bed if you fall asleep at a desk

Recommends you wear comfy clothes at all times so you can fall asleep wherever

A bit of an enabler, he’s doing his best tho

If you take commissions don’t be surprised if he threatens to kill someone when they don’t pay or are rude to you

He loves you, that’s all

Wilford

Fucking elated

Draw him!!! Please!!!! Please draw him!!!!! He has coin!!!!! He can pay!!!!!

Ecstatic if you actually draw him like he’ll giggle for an hour straight just looking

Secretly commissions more art from you

So also sugar daddy

It’s always something so obvious so you know it’s him anyways

He likes bright colors and eyestrain for some reason

If you make that, he just. Stares at it. Unblinking. You have to snap him out of it (im not projecting what do you mean)

Gets extremely worried about you not taking care of yourself

Gets someone to fucking babysit you when he’s gone so you take care of yourself

When you get greatly offended by this he settles for texting you reminders

And when you ignore those he texts more

Don’t be surprised if you get spammed by several people and an alarm starts to play from somewhere in the house

You’re gonna be healthy whether you like it or not, asshole

Drags you to bed aggressively

He WILL NOT drug your food with melatonin because that’s illegal. B U T-

He’s a little confused, but he got the spirit

Will advertise your art to anyone and everyone and also on his show and threatens the audience with a gun

AGAIN, a little confused. he just wuvs u so much 

Yancy

I mean technically he’s kind of an artist too so he appreciates your skill and creativity

He’s very nosy and likes to look over your shoulder while you work

If you don’t like him doing that, he still does it, just more secretively

Likes to work in the same room as you. 

That is if you don’t mind constant singing or tap dancing in the background

He shows off your art to anyone and everyone and gets mad if they don’t immediately say it’s fantastic

May or may not have stabbed someone over it, you’ll never know

If you show him something you’re working on, he’ll show you something he’s working on in return

The law of equivalent exchange

You tell him you can make MONEY from things like art and dancing and he goes apeshit he gets so fucking excited

If you’re like an animator and offer to animate his dancing he might actually cry

He’ll deny it constantly every day until he dies

If you make things traditionally he hangs them on the wall Everywhere

You might run out of room

By which i mean you will run out of room as soon as possible

Will never tell you a drawing is bad ever unless it’s like Really Bad which it never will be in his eyes

He loves anything and everything you do u are so precious

You have a permanent support system within the man

Google

Used to see art as pointless

Then comprehended the chemical release it causes in the brain and thought that was fine

Then saw you get really mad with something you were working on and got confused again?

If art no make good chemical, why art?

He still doesn’t understand, but that’s ok

You tried to get him to make something once

He just. Kinda. Made a buncha ones and zeroes

You still framed it and hung in on the wall and he got embarrassed

If he could blush, he would

If you draw him he looks like he doesn’t care but it’s at that point he decides he would die for you

Primary objective: answer questions as quickly as possible. Secondary objective: make u happy. Tertiary objective is to destroy mankind

If you draw bing that will disappear IMMEDIATELY you have BETRAYED him

If you ask for a color palette recommendation he Always says the google colors. Always.

You might’ve thought he was going for an rgby type of thing. But then you realize.

He is in charge of your financing. He will tell you the most efficient ways to make money as an artist and you follow then

He is also in charge of making sure you FUCKING EAT A MEAL

“But isn’t an objective to destroy mankind?” shut up he’s not happy about it either

Despite his best efforts he loves you and that ain’t gonna change

Illinois

Doesn’t fully understand

He needs to be outside at all times and cannot stay in one place

And you’re like??? Required to stay still???? For prolonged amounts of time????? Disgusting. Anyway, whatcha workin’ on?

He might ask you to try and teach him

If you do try he gives up almost immediately

Sometimes you just get so into it that you forget to do basic things and he gets upset

(i.e. eating, sleeping, living, etc.)

He gets worried about you

He is a hypocrite bc he does the same

He will drag you to bed, motherfucker

Honestly he might lock your shit somewhere until you fucking take care of yourself. it’s like a hostage situation god

“Where the fuck did you put it” “I have no clue what you mean. I might know if you eat your dinner, though”

Asshole (affectionate)

Sometimes you like make faces when you try to draw a person and it’s hilarious and cute to him

He looks at your drawings the moment you walk away but acts like he doesn’t care

He cares a lot

Will support you no matter what but will also tell you without hesitation if he thinks something looks shit

Listen he’s out of line but he’s right

Eric

Loves you a lot and will support anything and everything you choose to do or make

Drawing? Awesome! Painting? Wonderful! Animation? Superb!

He often wants to buy you supplies or something but he does not know what anything is

Fuck is a chalk pencil???? What are gel pens vs normal pens?????? Watercolor????? What the fuck are you saying??????????

Will subtly drop hints that you could,,,, draw him,,,,, maybe,,,,, if u wanna 

And by subtly I mean he starts to ask and then starts crying

If you draw him he will cry again he loves u so much 

If he ever were to get a tattoo it’d be something u drew. Nothing else is as important to him at the moment

He enjoys photography and film, and likes to try and bond with you over artistic things

I mean. Some things overlap.

You could talk about a single drawing for hours and he’d listen intently the whole time

Don’t ask him for feedback, it’s always some version of “it’s perfect and I love you”

Even if he hates it

Which,,,,, he might hate it sometimes

He’s not a good reviewer. 2/10, very biased

He likes to take photos when you’re in the zone

If you tell him to delete them he will

While secretly making one his home screen

Host

Hey, he gets it

He writes, he understands the hyperfocus

Sometimes he wouldn’t move from his chair for a day because he was busy writing a script

That being said, you probably have to be the one to get him to take care of himself

Or you have to take turns

Otherwise you’re both gonna fucking die

He asks you to describe your art to him and tries to picture it.

He’ll tell you if he thinks it probably looks good or bad

You shouldn’t take it to heart because he can’t see it

He is a bastard sometimes

“Well, what do you think?” “I think it looks fantastic” “Thanks, babe” “...” “... you think you’re fucking funny, don’t you”

He asks if you can draw him sometimes

No, he won’t see it, but he’ll appreciate the sentiment if you do

He will ask for your opinion on his scripts sometimes

If you say it’s bad he gets really defensive

You work in the same room a lot of the time and forget the other is there

One of you has to preemptively order food or like set a timer so you can goddamn Survive

You’ll be fine

[vetrubius]

How I think the Haikyuu boys would react to if they saw you crying in your bedroom

AN: Probably gonna be my last AN because I’ve realised how annoying it is about me ranting about college lmao. Enjoy<3333

Pairings: Suna x GN Y/N!, Bokuto x GN Y/N!, Nishinoya x GN Y/N!, Kageyama x GN Y/N!, Tsukishima GN Y/N!

Warnings: - none -

SUNA RINTAROU:

-Would be coming to the room to take a nap and accidentally walk in on you wrapped in a blanket, your legs folded towards your chest and stifling sobs coming from your way.

-His heart would literally shatter to pieces (but won't change the fact that he has to sleep).

-Would walk over to you slowly and get in the bed with you, the mattress dipping down in his weight.

-Would not say a single word.

-Just make you lie down and face him as tears fall down on your face.

-Occasional "shhhh" and light head pats.

-Would stay awake till you feel tired and doze off.

- (Also give a forehead kiss before you pass out)

BOKUTO KOUTARO:

-He'd definitely be running towards your room to say some good news but would be stopped dead in his tracks once he sees you in the bed, face on the wall and sniffs in intervals.

-Now I know the fandom thinks Bokuto would just jump into the bed but honestly, I feel he'd go to get a glass of water for you first.

-After walking into the room, he'd quietly sit at the corner of the bed and keep the glass of water on the side table.

-"Hey, I came" he'd say as he raises your head slightly and keeps it on his thigh, letting you use it as a kerchief and a pillow all at once.

-Would pat your head and keep whispering "I got you" or "It's okay babe"

-Would stay there until you feel better and would definitely let you talk about what's bothering you instead of spewing his good news bc for him, your happiness is the priority.

NISHINOYA YUU:

-Little baby boy was greeted by the darkness in your apartment as soon as he came home from his evening jogs.

-Is very confused because normally, you're the one to see him at the door.

-Removes his coat and keeps the groceries on the coffee table. "Y/NNNNNN?"

-As he'd see you emerging and balancing at the door frame, he'd see your hair in a mess, your eyes with a tint of red with evident dark circles under your eyes and the same clothes that you were in yesterday.

-"Hey...Are you okay?" he'd ask while keeping a hand on your shoulder, only to be responding with sobs.

-He would not waste a second engulfing you in his arms.

-Would probably say "Shuuushh, I'm here now" or keep patting your back gently.

-Once you quiet down, he'd ask you "do you want to shower together? I can wash you, you don't have to do anything".

-Would try his best to see you smile.

KAGEYAMA TOBIO:

-Would have entered the room on the pretext of asking you where his strawberry cheesecake ice cream would be kept.

-Sees your body leaning on the border of the window and looking outside.

-"Hey, Y/N. Where's that ice-"

-Saw you wiping away your face almost instantly

-"Do you have something on your face?" he's ask cluelessly.

"No, could you leave me alone?" you muttered looking out the window again.

-He was familiar with your habit to push him away every time you cried.

-Makes his way towards you and creeps his hands around your waist while resting his head in the pocket of your neck and head.

-Would hold you in silence because you're more precious to him than that stupid ice cream. but ofc that's the only thing going on in his two braincell mind

-Would let you completely drain your tear ducts out while he holds you, ignoring whatever he has on his schedule.

-Once he realises you're done, he'd softly say "So, ice cream and chat?"

TSUKISHIMA KEI

-Since most of y'all know how mean and salty this dino boy is, i believe he's one of the softest and the most empathetic over here.

-Would pop up in your room to talk to you about some weird stuff that happened in the day.

-His eyes would be greeted with your head on your study table, buried in your arms and small hiccups from your direction.

-He knows that you start hiccuping while you cry.

-Drags the spare chair over to you and taps your head with his long fingers.

-"Hey, wanna talk?"

-As you try and explain what's bothering you to him, he'd sit and listening through and through. Absorbing every reaction, every word and analysing it completely.

-He understands your emotions even through your babbles, whines, tears and shouts.

-Slithers his hands against the grains of the table and intervenes his fingers in yours. "Thank you for trusting me with this. I love you and I promise we'll go through it together"

-You cannot help but tumble in love with him again for his existence.

series masterlist

[saintodo]

(^≗ω≗^) anon AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH irtuwiotuweituwr i know what you mean normal gojo is pathetic but in a way that makes me wanna put him on his place (lovingly) but catboy gojo? oh lord i just wanna be mean for the sake of being the one to wipe his tears away🥺he's pathetic in a way thats adorable iyroweyriw

aaaahhhh me too my back really hurts but alas let us just see how this will go😔also ik what you mean by public seggs its its... okay but like please go somewhere private?? oiruwieruwor ANYWAYS ENOUGH OF THAT UNCOMFY SHIT SO--

Imagine nanami being your co-worker who you are in good terms with in and outside of work becoming more and more smitten w your widdle kitty despite the circumstances (your satoru being a lil shit and nanami being well not) each day that it reaches a breaking point which he feels guilty for and originally thought of ignoring it but then felt guilty after learning that you and satoru just got upset about him ignoring the both of you so instead he just asks your permission (bc his mama raised him right obviously 🙄) and ofc who are you to deny such a lovely future househusband💝 coworker?

so here you are in the comfort of your home with your little kitty bare in your lap and his legs stretched apart revealing his cock and hole which you toy and treat so fucking well that your precious kitty keeps on creaming lots and lots and with nanami in front of the show and his cock free thats looking red and leaking but can't touch even himself and can only watch as you continue to fuck your kitty in front of him because obviously you need to show how to handle such an obnoxious kitty right when your not around right? and what better way than a demonstration? of course he'll get a hands-on experience but only if he gets how to treat your kitty in that head of hi (if he can even think straight that is huehue and of course you'll show him that you can treat him just as well too he needs to work really hard for it first though but thats for another time later💕)

im just gonna put everything under a read more so this doesn’t take up too much space!!!

♡ word count: 660

♡ warnings: gn!reader, sub!gojo, hybrid stuff, talk of public sex and exhibitionism, vouyerist nanami??, some sexual content

normal gojo and catboy gojo are both infuriating menaces, but catboy gojo is a CATBOY!!!!!!! he is so cute. i like the thought of hybrid catboy gojo who actually transforms into a kitty. i want him to curl up on my lap and let me pet him while im watching tv. when he’s in his more human form, he has fluffy white cat ears on top of his head and a matching fluffy tail that he swings in your face when he’s trying to get your attention.

i can understand the appeal of public sex but i get anxious super easily and i would just be STRESSED the entire time of getting caught which would make the experience not fun ://

ok ok now let’s get into the goodies. THIS CONCEPT IS SO TOP TIER !!!!! g*d i love imagining nanami slowly liking catboy gojo even though he cannot comprehend it. and he feels so guilty because you’re his coworker and friend, and he likes your hybrid. (he likes you too but that’s too much for nanami to admit.) so he begins to distance himself from you, making excuses for why he can’t talk right now or can’t hangout after work is over like you normally do.

and you cannot figure out why all of a sudden, nanami wants nothing to do with you. it’s only when you complain about it to gojo that you start to think you know why. so you confront nanami one day during your lunch break (of all times) and just bluntly ask if he likes gojo. he’s caught off guard, but doesn’t deny it. he can’t lie to you about something like that- you have a right to know. he stiffly apologizes before you wave it off. 

he’s surprised by how...relieved you appear. 

“oh, good. i thought you hated me or something, kento.” you slump back into your chair, weight sagging. “well, if that’s the only thing that’s been bothering you…” you place your elbows on the table and fold your hands together, leaning your chin on top of them. the corners of your lips curve into a seemingly innocent smile, but the gleam in your eyes says otherwise. “you wanna come over and watch me play with satoru?”

whatever nanami thought you were going to say, it surely was not that. he doesn’t say anything, only raising a slight brow.

“you don’t have to answer that right now if you don’t wanna. but you can come over to my place at seven on friday if you’re curious,” you shrug before taking another bite of your bento. the rest of your lunch break passes in silence. nanami’s thoughts revolve around your words while you look completely at ease, happily munching away on your rice.

when friday comes, nanami knows he made the correct decision. he’s unsure what will happen from this point forward, but that’s something to think about later. right now, all he can think about is how pretty gojo looks spread out on your lap.

he’s impressed by how well you’re able to tame the hybrid. normally gojo is so mouthy and bratty, but now, he’s reduced to nothing but a puddle of pleasure as you curl your fingers to prod at his prostate.

“isn’t he pretty, kento?” you murmur as you trail kisses down gojo’s neck and shoulders. the hybrid’s hips jerk when you run your hand around his length. he moans when your fingers brush over his red and dripping head, leaking from how many times he’s cum already.

from across the room, nanami sits in a sitting chair and observes the scene laid out in front of him. his cock is hard as a brick in his slacks, and he shifts in his seat to slowly loosen his belt with his thick fingers .

“maybe, i’ll even let you touch him another time,” you muse as you bite down onto the curve of gojo’s shoulder, marking him as yours.

[in-superbloom]

did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? (a.i.)

right where you left me: prologue

pairing: ashton irwin x olivia jones (oc)

warnings: uhh a kinda grieving theme i guess? but no deaths. it has a sad tone overall, but nothing major (in this chapter hehe). foul language because i can't help myself. the tiniest mention of alcohol, but as a memory. think i should probably warn you that this contains a very sad ash. also not much dialogues. this is mainly for explanation and introduction, but very important for the story. if you find anything else that might be triggering, please let me know so i can add it here !!

author's note: oof okay. so. this is the prologue of a series very very dear to my heart that i've been working on for what it feels like my whole life but really it's been just a few months. but i'm in love with the story (which rarely happens with my own writing) so i hope you can enjoy it too !! this is also my very first time posting a fic since 2013 so pls keep that in mind <3 no i am not shaking as type this ofc not also: although i have the full story ready in my head, this is the only chapter that's written. i wanted to wait until i had at least a few ready before posting this but i'm too anxious for that lmao just saying this bc it will take a good while until i have any more chapters, so <3 (p.s.: i went over this thing a million times since may so if you find any errors pls look away, i'm not fixing this thing anymore. thanks <3)

another note: anna from the future here to say that i completely forgot about the playlist i made for the story lmao here it is in case you're interested k thanks bye <3

credits: title is from taylor swift's song right where you left me. model in the picture: paola locatelli. banner by me.

i also wanted to take a minute to thank some really nice friends that i've made here over these past few months & that i'm extremely grateful for @wastelandcth @suchalonelysunflower @littledrummerangie i cannot thank you babes enough for inspiring me the way that you do & for letting me yell about this to you && for encouraging me so much 🥺 i'll never be able to explain just how much this means to me, so i'll have to settle for saying thank you at any change that i can get <3 i love you all 💜 also gem my baby, thank you for the inspo with the banner 💚

@bluesdelis look babe i did it 😌 you know how grateful i am for you & for you letting me have a breakdown every week about my writing for the past 8 years so let's not dive into that or else i will write something bigger than this prologue jsjsjdjd love you 🖤

i hope you all have a good reading and a nice day ♡

let me know what are your thoughts about the fic ! ♡

word count: 4.1k

☆☆☆

Cold. That was the first thing that Olivia’s brain processed.

Still with her eyes closed, she buried herself more into the duvet, while her arm blindly reached for the furnace in human form that she calls boyfriend. However, as soon as her arm was only met with cold sheets, her eyes shot open.

Blinking the sleep away, she sat up on the bed, searching for the infamous red clock resting on Ashton’s bedside table that was supposed to look like a vintage alarm clock. Olivia had ordered it online at an auction website a couple of years back, as a gift for his 23rd birthday, since it was something he had mentioned multiple times prior that he was looking for, but still hadn't found. But when it finally came in (two weeks after the due date), it looked nothing like the picture she saw on the website. Feeling beyond frustrated, she wanted to send it back immediately and ask for a refund and maybe leave a not so polite review on the seller's page. But Ashton stopped her right away, laughing like the situation was absolutely hilarious to him, while saying, 'I like it, it’s quirky'. So, the clock stayed and found a home right next to him in their room.

Some days, however, she would wake up at some ungodly hour because of the blaring noise of the only ringtone the clock had. But whatever annoyance she could feel towards the object, it always vanished as soon as she felt Ashton's lips gently touching her face in a good morning kiss before he would get up to start his day, leaving her to catch some more hours of well deserved sleep.

As the furthest from a morning person as a touring musician could possibly be, Olivia had always feared that living under the same roof as Ashton would turn her into an early bird like him, but she's thankful that it never happened (not that he needs to know about that).

When she sees the red clock, she smiles at the sudden but welcome memories of them flooding her foggy brain, but frowns slightly when she realizes it reads 12:13 pm. Ashton rarely lets her sleep past 10 am.

Gathering all her strength and will, she rises up from the bed, smoothly picking up a grey wool sweatshirt from the chair (way too baggy on her slim body, but it smells like him), pulling it over her head and relishing on the soft material warming up her body. Making her way to the door and calmly going down the stairs, she can’t help but stop for a minute to admire the picture frames on their walls, one in particular catches her attention – probably one of the most prized pictures and memories they had. It felt older than it actually is, but it was around 4 years ago, she's sure – a little while after the two of them met. The picture was of their group of friends that still remains the same: Ashton and his best friend, Luke; Olivia, her best friend, Calum and their old hometown friend, turned into Calum’s new friend at college, turned into everyone’s friend, Michael; and her then newly band members, Suki, Eli and Ravi. Together, their group was the life of the party through all their college years, and it showed by the big smiles and drinks in hands they all had in the picture. It was a very special night, the first time Olivia’s little band played for the public – for a small audience sure, but it was a wonderful night nonetheless. What a long road it had been since that night.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a shiver that went through her whole body, and it made her realize how oddly cold the whole house was, not only their bedroom. Which, granted, it was November in New York and the weather was just getting colder, but that’s exactly why Ashton always made sure to keep the house warm enough. As much as she loved the chilly season, the warm weather always reminded him of his hometown, and who was she to deny him that?

The smell of fresh made coffee could be sensed even before she reached the kitchen. Arriving there, the curly haired woman still found no signs of her boyfriend, so she went straight after the coffee maker pot sitting on the far left corner of the cream marble counter. Smiling softly at the tons of memories of Ashton's sleepy figure making their favorite beverage, she reached for a coffee mug on the cupboard on top of the counter and poured the remainder of the hot liquid on it (it's her favorite mug, if she must choose – it was a gift from a fan, and it had printed on it a collage of the pictures of her and Ashton that were posted on social media through their first year of relationship).

Moving to the glass doors that lead to the mini garden they cultivate, she didn't have to open them to spot the 6-feet-tall man sitting on a bench outside, looking oddly small in his oversized clothes, coffee mug tightly held between strong hands. Something about his figure made Olivia frown, however: he was staring with an unwavering look at her small but eye-catching pot of yellow daffodils that were almost as much of a pet to them as Stitch at this point. Sensing that there’s something definitely off about his semblance, she made a mental note to talk to him and find out what’s wrong later. So she goes back to the kitchen, knowing that he might need this quiet and private moment for himself.

She lost count of the minutes that went by (couldn't have been more than five) before she hears the garden's door opening and closing, and then his bare feet are dragging his brawny body to her. Except, he goes over to the sink, walking right through her, not showing any sign that he even saw her hunched figure over the counter table in the middle of the room.

Alright, someone's in a mood.

Olivia tries to swallow the annoyance already bubbling inside her – he knows how much she hates to be ignored, no matter how mad he might be – by trying to think of what she can say that won't piss him off. This is always a hard feat to accomplish when Ashton gets in these moods, but there’s a reason for them to work so well together.

“I missed my favorite body heater when I woke up,” she says in her best sweet voice, knowing how quickly his resolve crumbles when he hears that voice.

Still, no reaction.

That settles a worry at the pit of her stomach, because Ashton is never like this. Even when he's not in the mood to talk, he always gives some kind of reaction to her words; it doesn't matter how small, just enough to make her feel acknowledged.

When he's finished washing his mug and the few scattered dishes across the sink – she noticed that he already had lunch, if the lone plate in the drying rack is anything to go by –, he dries his hand in a towel, turns around and throws it on top of the same counter Olivia was leaning up against. Once again, he walks away not even sparing her a look.

Indignant, she leaves the now empty coffee mug on top of the table and follows him as he walks up the stairs, any determination to not aggravate his mood now well gone.

“Hey! In case you didn't notice, I'm right here. Whatever got you in this sour mood, I'm certainly not to blame, so can you stop being a child now and talk to me?!”

Ashton just keeps walking – more like sluggishly dragging his body – until he reaches their bedroom and suddenly stops just merely two feet inside the room, looking around with vacant eyes; like he was expecting to see something that wasn't there.

“Okay, that's really mature of you. Are you planning on ignoring me all day then?” Olivia questions exasperated, staring angrily at the back of his neck, where the condor tattoo lives – her favorite of his, but that sight doesn't bring her any peace today like it usually does.

Her glare only breaks when she hears the familiar sound of dog tags swaying on her right side. Shifting her gaze to the direction of the sound, Olivia notices Stitch, their small, black & white French bulldog – who she thought was outside in the garden – slowly trudging his way from around the bed until he stops at Ashton's feet, looking up at one of his humans with sad eyes. That realization only makes the worry in her stomach grow uncomfortably.

“Hi buddy,” Ashton's voice cracks a bit from the lack of use, but he smiles softly at the sweet dog, and crouches down to pet him.

Olivia can't help but gasp as she notices three things all at once that leave her overwhelmed: first, how she didn't even notice Stitch was in the room when she woke up – which never ever happens, in fact, most days he wakes her up whenever he deems her bedtime as finished and can't ever contain his excitement when she finally gets up; second, how the windows blinds are closed, which, again, rarely occurs under their roof, not if Ashton can help it. And third, how sad and melancholic the whole scene in front of her is – how sad and melancholic Ashton is. Pointless to say by now – that's also a very rare occasion.

A chill creeps up Olivia's spine, putting her body into high alert and also serving as a reminder of how everything looks out of place today. Trying to keep her head from spiraling down way too soon, she wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside her two favorite boys, trying once more.

“Ash? Can you hear me?” even with her throat closing, she softly asks, purposefully putting her face in Ashton's point of view. Her only answer is the low whispers he's letting out to Stitch, while cradling the tiny dog in his arms, spreading gentle kisses on his head.

“I know, bud, I know. I miss her too,” is the only whisper she could understand and immediately wishes she hadn't. The weak wail that comes from Stitch's throat seems to fit perfectly with how the three of them feel.

Ashton then looks up and for a couple of seconds, and Olivia can swear he’s staring right into her eyes. But when he shows no reaction, she knows he’s just staring ahead and not at her, with that look that says there’s too much going on inside his head. She feels the urge to embrace him and get him to talk about whatever is on his mind, so they can share that weight like they always do, but when Ashton gets up from the ground and settles on the bed with Stitch, Olivia can physically feel the crack in her heart caused by the feeling she’s left with.

While Ashton is pulling the duvet over him and the dog, with clearly no intentions of getting up anytime soon, Olivia stands up on her feet with a new-found determination – she needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

This nightmare had to be just that, right? Nothing but a very vivid dream – she's had those before. Scary sure, but they always go away, and soon enough she's back into Ashton's arms, with Stitch jumping on the bed ready to lick their faces off. She just needs to wake herself up from whatever fucked up dream this is – right?

She's running down the stairs this time, frantically in search of something, of what exactly, she doesn’t know – but she knows she needs an answer. The more she looks for something, the more desperate she gets, not knowing what to look for. Then suddenly, something catches her eyes.

The white and blue calendar that's held up by magnets on the side of the fridge. She knows their calendar is red and yellow. They got it from their favorite flower market. Slowly, as if scared of what it might be there – “It's just a calendar, for fucks sake” – she approaches the damn thing. Upon inspection, she deems it as a normal calendar – she really doesn't know what she was expecting – until.

She knows what's wrong with it now.

It's November. She knows it, because the Asian and last leg of her first world tour is about to begin November 21st, eleven days from today. Right after Mike's birthday, she knows this.

Then why does the calendar say today is January 14th?

☆ ☆ ☆

Ashton woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up, frightening the little Frenchie that was asleep right next to him on the bed. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, he roughly rubbed his face to get some sleep off of it and soon reached for the dog that was staring at him with sleepy but sad eyes. Ashton is sure Stitch understands far more than a dog is supposed to understand about their current situation.

The room is covered in shadows, almost pitch black, but he can see the sunlight even through the thick dark grey blinds covering up the windows. Ashton knows he won't be able to sleep again at that moment, so he gets up from the bed – much slower than he used to. His heartbeat is still out of control because of the nightmare that woke him up, but he can't bother to pay attention to it when Stitch is softly wailing beside him. Ashton lets out a ghost of a smile when the dog rests his head on his right upper thigh, looking up at him with an expression Ashton knows all too well.

“C'mon you little ravenous creature, let's feed you,” the bulldog excitedly jumps to the ground, already running his way down the stairs, not even waiting for Ashton to get up.

That gets a real smile out of him, but it vanishes as soon as he glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It reads 5:13 am, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But that small and inoffensive clock, with its red paint peeling off, holds a lot of memories for him. Memories that two months ago would bring joy to his heart, but now he almost wants to throw the object across the room.

It was a stupid thing, really. He had been wanting a vintage alarm clock and Olivia got one for his birthday. But the product they received was definitely not the one she bought, and if he's being honest, he didn't like it as much as he made out to. But seeing her so excited in the weeks before it arrived, and how disappointed she was when it did, he couldn't help but try his best to make her smile that luminous smile again. It's part of his nature by now.

That's also the reason why he lets her think that he doesn't notice when she wakes up at some ungodly hour (her words, not his) along with him, because of the annoying and only sound the alarm clock is able to produce. He always leaves soft kisses in every inch of bare skin he can find on her sleeping figure, so she goes back to the dream land and doesn't wake up before 10 am. No one wants to deal with that kind of bad humor, not even him.

As much as he likes being a morning person and absolutely enjoys her company in the mornings, he knows she'll take any and every extra hour of sleep she can get before starting the day. And that's why he loves that she's so stubborn that his early bird tendencies never got to her – he knows she feared that this would happen when they moved in together, but he met her like this, fell for her like this. He wouldn't change a single thing about her.

Ashton drags himself out of the bed, wincing slightly at how cold the wooden floors are under his bare feet. He doesn't bother putting some socks on, or a sweater – the cold weather in the house is uncharacteristically comforting to him. Nothing feels warm without her anyway.

While descending the stairs, he mentally curses himself for not being strong enough to look past the picture frames on the wall. One in particular catches his eyes – a picture from the night of Olivia's first concert with her band. The memories of that night are still painfully vivid in his mind: the laughter among their group that eventually infected everyone at the pub, Suki and Luke's first kiss and the silly smile that didn't leave his best friend's face all night, the standing ovation Olivia got after her three-songs set, and her captivating and breathtaking smile that made him realize right then and there, while watching her sway to the music, that he was definitely falling in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it – not that he wanted to.

So many memories held up on that wall, in the relatively short time since they met, that he can't help but wonder if that's all they'll get in this lifetime.

Ashton is abruptly taken out of his thoughts by Stitch's barks coming from the bottom of the stairs. He quickly jogs down the few steps left and goes straight after the dog's food in the kitchen's cabinet. After Stitch starts to happily devour his breakfast, Ashton goes to make his coffee, doing enough for two people like he always does, since Calum drops by most days for a chat or to drop Duke before going to work. Although all three of them know he just can't bother to make food for himself in the morning, while Ashton is the group's elected chef. Ashton always says he just needs a boyfriend – Olivia says Calum already has one who makes him breakfast every day.

He grabs an apple from the fridge and makes his way outside to their garden. Even though a lot of their memories took place there, the garden is the only space in the house where he doesn't feel like suffocating all the time. At least here, he can breathe some fresh air and look at the sky when he's feeling overwhelmed – which is basically all he's been doing for about a month now.

Yet, a lot of the garden has Olivia's name written all over.

He remembers vividly the day she came home after spending two weeks in LA doing some pocket shows, with a pack of daffodil seeds and the largest smile. She excitedly told him that a friend gifted it to her when she mentioned the little garden they were planning to build together at their new house. The friend told Olivia that daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, so as the good lover of symbolism that she is, Olivia loved the idea of having those flowers to symbolize their new beginning.

Ashton, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of the flowers at first – he just didn't see the appeal to them. But nonetheless, he indulged her, letting Olivia plant the seeds near the bench they used to sit during the quiet and unrushed afternoons, so they could admire the sunset, and she could happily look at the daffodils.

Pointless to say – the damn flowers grew on him.

Now, however, looking at them without Olivia and her contagious joy next to him, they were back to be as dull as they were before, if not more so.

Still lost inside his head without any sense of how much time went by since he sat down, Ashton doesn't hear the front door closing, and doesn't notice that he's no longer the only person inside the house until someone sits next to him on the bench. Yet, he doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement to them.

A few minutes go by before either of them speaks up.

“Luke said you didn't go to see her yesterday,” Calum starts softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the morning.

Ashton takes a few seconds to respond, “No point in doing that.” The black haired man licks his lips while thinking carefully about his next words.

“You know staying inside this house all day by yourself won't help either,” Calum turns his head to his left and takes a good look at Ashton's uncharacteristically hunched over figure, and immediately thinks that anyone can tell this man is not himself anymore. His second thought is that Olivia would hate seeing him like this.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Move on with my life like nothing happened? Like I'm not slowly and painfully losing the love of my life? Just because it’s easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me.”

Calum closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows Ashton doesn't mean it, it's the anger and frustration talking. He knows it. Doesn't make it sting any less.

“I'm not telling you to move on with your life, because that's far from what I'm doing, and I certainly don't expect you to do it. I'm just saying you need to occupy your mind or else–”

“I'll go insane? Think it's a bit too late for that,” Ashton interrupts with a bitter tone that doesn't belong to his usual chirpy voice.

“You know it's not,” Calum sighs and drinks the rest of his coffee, moving his body slightly, so he's facing the blonde man, “I got a job interview for you at that school you talked about so much last summer, the principal said you can go any day this week. I went ahead and sent her your resume as well as explained everything that she needs to know about Olivia, so you don't have to. You just gotta put on some decent clothes and show up.” he sees Ashton's face softening a little and takes it as a victory. A few beats go by and then, “Maybe take a shower too. That's gonna make you feel better.” Calum leans in closer to his friend's personal space and takes a sniff, causing Ashton to deflect from him slightly, but not to push him away – another small win.

“Definitely take a shower, you stink. When was the last time your hair saw shampoo?”

“Fuck off,” is Ashton's only reply to the younger man's inquest. But Calum can see a smile creeping up on the blonde's face, which brings out a smile of his own.

“I'll send you all the details later today,” he checks the hour on the watch on his wrist and gets up, “Just please, Ash, go. I can't lose you too.”

Calum gently lays a hand on Ashton's shoulder and squeezes a little. The man doesn't look up, but gives a curt nod to his friend, who's satisfied enough. Calum stops on the threshold of the garden glass doors to give some kisses to Stitch – who came to make Ashton company as soon as he finished his food –, and then he puts the coffee mug on the dishwater. And soon enough, he's on his way out of the door. But not before snatching a tangerine from the fridge.

Ashton is left by himself once again. As he hears the sound of the front door closing, he thinks that this might be his life from now on. Just him and Stitch, trying their hardest to make it through another miserable day without the love of their lives. While everyone else comes by just to make sure he's still breathing. Breathing, maybe, but alive?

Swallowing the tears, he looks up at the sky. It's a deep, beautiful mix of orange, pink and blue, but he knows that it won't last long and soon the rain will be pouring down. He thinks about how much Olivia loves the rain.

God, he needs to pull himself together. She would hate to see him like this. Maybe he should take Calum's offer after all, he really needs to occupy his mind.

Making a mental note to thank Calum later, and also to apologize for how rude he was to him this morning, Ashton slowly gets up from the bench to put his mug on the sink and makes his way to the living room, with the small dog loyally following his every step. He puts on some cartoon that for once doesn't remind him of her (she always lovingly made fun of him for still watching those) and cuddles with Stitch on the couch. He can take a shower later.

Not half an hour goes by, he falls asleep and has a good dream for a change. He dreams of the days he spent with Olivia in the Philippines last February, right before her first world tour started. Some of the most magical days of their lives – surrounded by delicious food, a whole new culture to learn about and the warmth of the sun. Infinite counted days full of love and passion, where they were the only people in the world.

Even his subconscious knows to hold on to that brief moment of happiness, because he might never live that again.