#and i wanted desperately to design a shirt for him at some point

[oksanas-sun]

miles the bear is a fan of ke too 🥰🥹

[fungal-rot]

Pure Instinct - Surrender

okay so i've been seeing those tiktok ads about that Pure-Instinct perfume and I had A Thot- it was originally supposed to go a different route, but i kinda went everywhere with this LOL.

summary: no outbreak; you bought a new perfume, one that's supposed to entice the opposite sex. but just how well does it actually work?

warnings: MDNI- smut (unprotected p-in-v), joel being a bit of a horndog, semi-desperate sex, oral (f receiving), use of 'good girl' and pet names (darlin', baby, pretty girl, honey), a bit of bulge riding, slight dom!joel, established relationship, no age specification for reader- lemme know if i forgot anything! - also please note i’m getting back into writing. i’m a lil rusty and still getting back into the flow of things; apologies for any mistakes.

w.c.: 2.7k

    ⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

All over the internet you've come across different videos advertising some 'pheromone perfume-' a blend of essential oils that are meant to work with your own natural scent, enhancing your body's pheromones- or something of the sort. Seeing the men become infatuated with their girlfriends and wives, clinging to them with lust-blown pupils certainly had your interest piqued.

After an- albeit, quick- internal debate with yourself, you bit the bullet and looked up the seller's site, coming across different smells like 'Crave,' 'Lucky,' 'Fallen-'

And 'Surrender.'

Sounds sexy. With a smirk you click on it, reading the description,

'Surrender has a sophisticated and mature scent which designed for the woman who wants to feel confident, beautiful, and sensual. Own any room you enter in. You won't just be noticed — you'll make heads turn. Sexy, but not vulgar.'

Sounds dominant.

There were different layers of notes, like magnolia, mandarin, vanilla, sandalwood; the list went on. Seemed like a good choice. You were about to add it to your cart, finger hovering over the button, but then you hesitated. Did you really need this? Was it that important to find out if it was worth the hype? To see if Joel would be unable to tear himself away from you, kissing you hungrily while ripping your clothes off an-

Added to your cart!

It was for science.

You even opted to pay extra for express shipping, heart racing with a giddy bite of your lip.

The day it arrived, you were practically bouncing on your feet with glee. Joel was at work, wouldn't be home for another hour or so. That meant you had plenty of time to get things together and play around with it.

Taking a quick shower then pulling a low cut shirt over your head and shimmying a pair of leggings on, you grabbed your little container of liquid-luck, rolling it over your heat points; a little between your breasts, behind your ears, along the crook of your neck, wrists, and fold of your arms. It definitely smelled alluring upon first apply. Now to let it dry and wait.

-

Keys jingled outside the door, the knob twisting a few times before the entrance swung open followed by a rather exhausted looking Joel Miller who stumbled through. The man heaved a heavy sigh as he tossed his keys into the dish and toed of his shoes before padding to the couch where you sat, pushing your cuticles back as you watched a rerun of Buffy: the Vampire Slayer.

"Hi, sugar," you greet, flicking your eyes to him as he flopped down, making you bounce softly. His hair was damp with sweat from being out in the hot Texas sun all day, thick veins protruding from his work-callused hands, trailing up his arm.

"Hm," he grunted in reply and placed his palms over his eyes as he leaned against the back of the couch, chest expanding with a deep breath only to falter for a split second. Joel took in another breath, this one loud and deliberate. With hands lowering from his face, he turned his head to you, slowly, with knit brows.

"D'ya smell that?" He asked, sniffing again with a curious glance of the room.

Now, you had to play this right. You couldn't just outright tell him you bought perfume that would have him slobbering all over you, no. That would defeat the purpose of your little experiment.

So instead you played coy and sniffed at the air just as he did, nose turning up with a gentle shake of your head and small bob of your shoulders.

"I don't smell anything."

He nods slowly, eyes narrowing with a slight slack of his jaw, tongue poking through the side of his teeth while he studied you.

"You don't smell that?" Joel pressed further, almost exasperatedly.

"Smell what, Joel?" A quiet titter sounded with your words, brows arching as an amused grin toyed at your lips.

"Jus'..." Joel trailed off, wetting his lip with a quick swipe of his tongue. The scent wasn't too overbearing. It was sweet, musky, and a hint of something so conversant. Something that always managed to get him hot under the collar. A heat that not even the dry summers he endured on a frequent basis could compare to.

That's when you leaned over him- totally not at all planned- reaching an arm past to grab one of the magazines on the end table. Joel drew another quick breath and it hit him. Before you could retreat he snatched your wrist with a tight grip, pupils dilated widely with parted lips. " 'S' you..." He murmured, attention solely on you and you alone.

The corner of your mouth twitched up into a smug smirk, "Is it?" You hushed back, feeling goosebumps erupt across your skin as he pressed a kiss to your inner wrist, slowly trailing up your arm and to your shoulder. A curt chuckle sounded from his chest as his own lips turned up. "Mm, I think so, baby," Now his lips danced on the crook of your neck, taking another whiff.

'Oh, fuck, that's good.' He thought, emitting a low growl.

"Yeah..." He purred, teeth grazing over your pulse point and eliciting a quiet moan from you, "that's alllll you, darlin'."

Hell, if Joel was tired before, he was certainly up now- in more ways than one.

"C'mere, pretty girl," He muttered and sat back, legs spread as he motioned two fingers in your direction. He watched with hungry intent as you crawled into his lap, thighs straddling his. Joel pawed at your hips, rolling them forward against the bulge straining in the confinements of his jeans with a grunt.

"Got me so damn hard an' ya haven't even done anything," With another forced roll, he throws his head back with a sigh. "Ride." He ordered with a strained voice, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. You didn't move just yet, however, and took in the sight of him; eyes shut and brows knitted softly, plush lips parted.

"Ride," Joel repeated with a firm smack to the meat of your ass, making you yelp and rut against him once more. You could feel the warm thickness of his cramped length through the thin cloth of your leggings, each continuous grind against your clit made you writhe in pleasure.

Good god, you were doing a number on him. He bucked his hips up in time with yours, panting faintly before sitting up and wrapping his thick, strong arms around your body.

Joel buried his nose into your neck again, allowing your enticing scent to flood his mind. His stomach tightened, and he had to pull you off his lap before he came in his underwear like a damn teen. You whine at the loss of friction, expression forming a soft pout as he laid you down, head against the armrest.

"I know, baby, I know," Joel cooed and tenderly cupped your jaw, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, " 'M gonna take care'a ya." He leaned down and planted a quick peck to the side of your nose.

"Always do, don't I?"

The man lowered himself down your body, hands stopping to caress and grab every now and then before slipping his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, swiftly tugging them down and watched as a string of arousal pulled, connecting the fabric to your lips. He smirked, relishing the fact you were just as turned on as he was, but what really caught his attention was-

"No panties?" He quirked a brow, a shit-eating grin apparent on his face as he continued shimmying you out of your pants. "Y'had this planned, didn't ya?"

You chuckled, biting your lip meekly and avert your gaze. Whoops! Caught.

"So, what is it?" He asked, curling a leg into the couch as the other planted on the floor, his head dipping to your center and placed an open-mouthed kiss to the inner crease of your hip.

"Surrender," You answered breathily, peering down at him as continued lavishing you with loving smooches and pecks, his wiry facial hair scratching at your body that only fanned the flames in your tummy.

His brows drew together with a vague frown as he lifted his head, "Whaddya think I'm tryin' ta do right now?"

Even though his words made you clench around nothing, you still couldn't help but laugh and bring a hand to your mouth to stop yourself. With a shake of your head you say, "No, dummy. I mean, that's the name of the perfume I bought."

Joel tilted his head back in a slight nod, uttering a soft 'Ohhh.'

"I dunno how I was s'posed ta know that," his head lowered once more, breath fanning over your wet heat and flicked his eyes to meet yours, "but it's fitting."

He didn't even give you a chance to process what he said before diving straight into your folds, tongue lapping over every crevice and drinking you down.

"O-oh, fu-fuck!" You breathed out, thighs instinctively closing around his head as your hand grasped at his sweat-matted brown hair.

He growled into your cunt, bracing his hands on either side of the soft, pillowy flesh of your legs and forcing you open again. Normally, Joel loved using them as his own personal pair of earmuffs, but now? He wanted you spread for him, needed it actually. He'd drown in you if he could, and by god he'd willingly die trying.

His mouth detached for a moment, just long enough for him to stick out his tongue and let a string of drool fall over your labia, watching with a satisfied smirk as it slid down to your entrance. Snaking a hand from under your thigh, he brought two fingers to your clit, brushing the pads of them over it with teasing glides. Your hips twitched and bucked with a soft mewl leaving your throat.

Joel dragged his bottom lip between his teeth before lowering his fingers. Down, down, then circling at your hole and slowly pushing in. A sharp gasp ripped from your chest, back arching as you finally got that stretch; so achingly sweet.

His cock twitched at the sound, begging to be let free and seek shelter deep inside your pussy. He had enough restraint (for now) to get you off first.

And they say chivalry is dead...

He latched his mouth back onto you, slurping obscenely as he licked his way up, fingers curling into the spongy spot of your canal.

"Jo- oh- el!" You cried his name brokenly, hand closing a tight fist into his hair with a tug. You could feel the fucker- no pun intended- smirk against you as he pumped his fingers in and out, picking up the pace as he suckled on the sensitive button. Your whines grew more relentless, hips rolling against the flat of his tongue and holding his head in place as the coil in your stomach began to tighten.

Joel felt you clench around his fingers and took that, along with the way you fervently bumped against the bridge of his nose, as a sign you were close. With a wince he reached his free hand to his jeans, fumbling with the button before sliding the fly down, reaching in and finally pulling out his hard cock.

Said hand went back to its rightful place against your thigh while he rutted against the cushions, pre-cum making a mess into the leather.

"C'mon, darlin'," He murmured, taking a quick glance at you and reveled in the sight of your flushed cheeks, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back against the arm rest. "Give it t'me, cum around my fingers." You didn't need to be told twice. In an instant, that coil snapped. Your legs trembled and shook as your climax ripped through your body, eyes snapping open and mouth agape, but no sound came out other than a few breathy whimpers.

"Good girl," Joel praised, still subtly grinding against the couch, desperate for his own release. "Good fuckin' girl." You had made a complete mess of his hand, your spend dripping down his fingers, into his palm and down his wrist, dribbling onto the sofa.

After your body relaxed, hand releasing the harsh grip from his hair, Joel pulled his fingers from you, making a shudder run up your spine. He sat back on his haunches, pushing his hand to your mouth and said, "Open."

Complying happily in your blissed-out state, your jaw slacked, allowing him to slide his soaked fingers into you warm mouth, palming himself with his other hand while he watched your lips close around the digits, feeling your tongue lick and clean your slick off them.

With a satisfied hum, he removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, greedily shoving his way past your teeth and licking the roof of your mouth.

Joel backed away, staring deep into your eyes. He huffed, pulling his pants down further, stepping out of one leg. He was so fucking horny and desperate right now he wasn't going to bother with the other one. This would do just fine.

"Need t'fuck you, baby," He spoke in a hushed tone, and without further warning he grabbed your leg and hooked it around his waist just before sliding right in with ease.

The two of you moan in unison. Either he was fucking huge- spoiler, he was- or you were really fucking tight.

Joel collapsed, a hand splayed next to your head to catch himself so he wouldn't fall directly on top of you as he bared his teeth with a hiss.

"Chris' onna damn bike," He slurred, gently lowering himself further and snaking an arm under you as he lazily thrusted into you.

He glanced down to where you two met, watching as he delved in further, "She's jus' swallowin' me in."

An aquiline nose sought out your neck, the sound of Joel consuming your scent filled your ears once more. He simply couldn't get enough. Hips snapped against yours incessantly, skin against skin bouncing off the walls and drowning out the sound of the tv in the background.

The man above reached a hand under your shirt, groping and squeezing your tit as he lowered his forehead to yours, half-lidded eyes boring into yours intently.

"Fuck," He muttered, eyes widening, hips stuttering, "Fuck, 'm close." Joel was a little ashamed of himself. He couldn't remember the last time he made it to the finish line so quickly.

He was quick to remove his hand from under your shirt, finger dipping to the spot where his cock pumped in and out, collecting your slick before sliding it up to your puffy clit yet again.

"Y'think you can gimme another'n, honey?"

"Y-yeah," You nod, feeling that familiar flame lick up your spine. "Wanna cum on your cock."

Joel's lip curled into a snarl at your admission, eyes rolling back before fluttering shut. His movements blundered, then he pulled out, leaving just the tip slotted in your entrance.

"Please," he whined. Whined.

That fucking did it. Your body tightened for the second time this evening, eager to let go and milk Joel of every last drop he had to offer.

"I'm c-" He interjected with a slam of his hips, making you see stars as he fucked you through your orgasm, the head of his dick tapping your cervix as he pushed himself as deep as he could, jerking into you almost feverishly. Your name fell off his tongue like a mantra while he held you flush against him, your back peeling off the leather with arms wrapped around his back as you nestled your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the musky, sweaty scent of him- your personal favorite brand of 'pheromone perfume' he wears.

After his body lightened, he turned his head and placed a listless, yet tender kiss to your temple. You made a move to crawl away, but that made his grip on you tighten.

"Not yet," he spoke lowly and leaned back, pulling you with him. "Wanna stay like this. Jus' for a minute."

His hand smoothed back your hair, the two of you laid there in silence to catch your breath. After a good ten minutes or so, you lift your head to peek at him, "So, I take it you liked the perfume?"

Joel offered a lopsided smile, rolling his head to the side with a swallow, "Loved it, darlin'."

You'd have to remember to buy more in the future.

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

hi, hello, thank you for reading. as stated above, i’m still basically re-learning to write. i’m trying to get in the hang of properly pacing out the story, not too rushed but not too wordy either. feedback is appreciated! pls feel free to interact with a reblog or comment <3

[freedomfireflies]

Bite Me*

Summary: Part of Halloween Kinktober, Freaky Fun

The one where your boyfriend, Harry, is a vampire.

And you wish you could feel what he felt.

Word Count: 3.2k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Easy…easy, sweet dove. Need to relax for me. Can smell how nervous you are. Take a deep breath, hm?”

Shaky fingers gather in front of your stomach as you nod nervously. Staring up at your boyfriend with anticipation and remorse. “Sorry, I just…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, reaching up to brush some hair behind your ear. “There is nothing wrong with you, darling. It’s chemical. You’re meant to feel nervous around me. It’s nature’s design. To keep you safe.”

You nod again, catching a glimmer of light from the sharp tooth peeking out from behind his lip. “I know, I just…I wish it would stop. I wish we could just be, you know? Without me being so…”

He studies you for a moment, a look of adoration on his face as he hums again and cups your cheek. “I know.”

You nestle into his touch rather contently before he begins to smile, now dipping down to nudge his nose with yours. 

“If you want…I can make the bad feeling go away,” he whispers with a slight purr. “Can make it all better again.”

Hopeful, your lashes flutter. “Really?”

He nods once. “Mhm. Just wanna help you, dove. Want you to feel good.”

And now you understand what he means, the thought sending a spark down to your toes. It’s rare he feeds from you. After all, he considers the act to be degrading and disrespectful. He only ever feeds from animals or blood bags unless you’ve specifically asked.

But the truth is, you love when he feeds from you. For a plethora of reasons, one of which being the overwhelming sense of need and dependance on him that follows. Or the way his eyes grow darker and his entire demeanor changes. How much stronger he becomes feeding on human blood, specifically the blood of someone he loves.

But another reason lies with his fangs. The venom that becomes injected into your bloodstream, forcing you to feel whatever emotion or desire he feels. 

It’s a trick used to lure and calm his prey into submission while he feeds, but you find another use for it. Because if he’s filled with serenity or anger or lust…you feel it, too. You feel him. Only him.

And it’s your absolute favorite feeling in the world.

His other hand now reaches for your neck, fingers gently tapping the sides of your throat. “Just say the word, darling. And I’ll give you anything you want.”

You feel your chest deflate, all the air evaporating from your lungs as he slowly urges you back against the wall. Bracing you there as he awaits your decision.

He knows what you want. And he knows that you’d tell him otherwise. 

Your fingers tangle in the dark shirt on his chest, desperate to keep him near you. “Do it. Please.”

He tilts your head back, letting his lip curl up until his fang is revealed. “Are you sure, my dove?”

Another fervent nod. “Yes. Please, Har…please, need to feel it. Need to feel you.”

He leans closer, letting the tips of his sharp teeth graze over the sensitive skin of your throat. Right above your pulse point. “Gotta be really sure, darling. Don’t want to hurt you. Or lose control.”

“You won’t,” you exhale, feeling more confident than you sound. “Know you won’t.”

Truth be told, you wouldn’t mind if he did. Even in his darkest moments, he remains your fiercest protector. Never allowing anyone to hurt you.

Not even himself.

You feel him breathe against your neck, perhaps preparing himself for what he’s about to do. Or maybe he’s indulging in your smell. Reveling in the realization of what he’s about to do. What he’s about to taste.

Then, almost as if overcome with a surge of confidence, he bites down – hard. Enough to break the skin and allow his venom to travel into your system.

It’s instantaneous, the feeling. The way your muscles dissolve into jelly, the way your mind fills with a certain haze, and the way your stomach begins to coil.

It’s overwhelming, but it’s him. And you whimper as his other hand falls to your hip to keep you steady, making sure you remain upright and in his arms.

He waits a moment or two to make sure the venom has taken effect before he slowly retracts his fangs and pulls away. You know if he’d punctured you any deeper or kept the sharp teeth inside of you any longer, the taste of your blood would have driven him mad. Tempting him beyond reason until he began to lose control.

But he knows his limits by now. Knows exactly how far he can push himself around you, and you admire him for it.

Your legs shake as you slump against the wall, held up by his grip as he studies you carefully. Looking for signs of remorse or panic.

He’s learned a trick for sucking a majority of the poison out of your system – if it were to come to that. And while it’s tricky and tedious, you know he’d do it in a heartbeat if he felt you were in danger or if you regretted your choice.

Instead, you simply smile at him, and nod languidly. “M’good, Har,” you assure him. “M’so good.”

He seems to exhale a grateful breath, thumb stroking your cheek gently as he now glances over your wound. “I need to clean it—"

“No,” you whimper, keeping him close. “Not yet. Don’t go yet.”

He chuckles, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “All right, dove. I’m here. How do you feel, hm? You feel calm yet?”

You nod again before your lashes flutter. “Yeah. Calm, and…and happy, I think?”

He hums. “I imagine. You do make me happy.”

“It’s strange, though,” you admit, brows furrowing in thought. “Feels…heightened. Or more potent. There’s this…this yearning. This need for something.”

He regards you for a moment more. Curious and seemingly amused by your confusion before suddenly, your eyes snap to his.

You suck in a sharp inhale – something akin to a gasp. “Are you…are you horny?”

You expect his surprise, but all you find is smug fascination. “Well,” he begins slowly, letting his knuckles graze delicately beneath your jaw, “the term horny is a little juvenile. And it could never even begin to describe what I feel for you.”

He steps closer, lips ghosting just above yours while you feel your breath hitch.

“But…yes,” he whispers, glancing down at your mouth with a smile. “I suppose I am. Can’t exactly help it, darling, can I? When you look…and taste…and smell so goddamn divine.”

Another whimper bleeds from your throat as he begins to guide you away from the wall and toward the bed just to the left of you.

“Tell me…how does it feel, dove, hm?” he murmurs, touch strong yet determined. “Do you feel me? Feel how much I need you?”

This nod is quick and zealous. Because you do. It’s all you feel. This desire to have – to take and ruin. In the best possible way. It’s a similar sensation to the lust you already feel for him. Your hunger to explore the dangerous but loving man you call your own.

“Yeah?” He’s grinning like a mad man at the way you so quickly fall apart. “Can I tell you a secret, darling?” 

You whimper pitfully as you gaze up at him.

Lowering his voice, he tightens his grip. “When I’m with you…I always feel like this.”

With that, he nudges you down to sit on the mattress before surging forward to press his lips to yours. Kissing you so hard, you feel dizzy. It’s perfection. Like quenching a burning flame. Like taking that first drink of water on a hot day. Fixing a desperate need – succumbing to a craving. 

And it feels as though this kiss fixes every one of your problems. Because it does – he does. Breaks you and puts you back together again all in the same moment. It’s almost addicting. You feel insatiable, hands disappearing into his curls as you yank him down until his chest is flush with yours.

The two of you roll and writhe around on the bed for a minute or two before he leans back to offer you air. He knows you won’t take a moment to breathe otherwise, and his smug smirk merely worsens the ache between your thighs.

“Not so nervous now, hm?” he muses.

You hook your leg around his hip and attempt to grind yourself against his thigh. “Please…”

“Please what, dove?” He presses his lips to the base of your throat, trailing them down your sternum and toward your chest. “What’s it feel like, what do you need?”

But you don’t have any answer for him. Instead, all you can do is stare at the stunningly generous man as he works his way down your body. As he unbuttons your shirt and kisses over the swell of your breast. 

The stain of your blood from his lips smears across your nipple before he takes it into his mouth. Sucking and licking at the tender skin while he kneads the other one in his palm.

You arch from the mattress, desperate to disappear into his strong frame while he chuckles darkly and allows his fangs to reemerge. 

He uses them sparingly – not as a weapon but as a toy. A tool in the game of your lust.

The sharp edge pricks your skin, enough to make you gasp his name and tug on him harder. He smiles a bit bigger and carries on with his quest. Moving down your stomach and toward the waistband of your pants.

Cold, nimble fingers pop the buttons free and tug the fabric down your legs. Revealing your trembling thighs to his hungry gaze. He looks at you like you’ve been served to him on a platter. But not in the way another vampire might.

No, Harry’s look of mesmeric adoration lies in the idea of your body. In the warmth of your cunt and the soft skin of your legs. In the way you draw him in, the way you hold him, clench around him.

It’s hard for him to feel most things these days. 

But he always feels you.

He settles his body near your ankles, providing him the right angle and amount of space to spread you open and study you.

His thumb reaches for you. Pushes into your clit before dragging down between your folds as you gasp.

His expression reveals nothing. No inkling as to what he’s thinking but you know his mind is running wild with ideas.

He finds your soaked little hole, circling it once before dragging the wet substance back up and through. 

“Shh,” he coos, taming your desolate cries. “It’s okay, dove. I’ve got you.”

“Har,” you whimper, fingers itching to reach for him as he settles onto his stomach. “Please…”

You can see the reflection of light on his fangs. The way they extend past his red, swollen lips and ghost above your skin.

He nips at your hip a time or two – a slight sting that dissolves into something excruciatingly pleasurable – before he dances his mouth down. Torturing you with what’s to come instead of simply giving it to you.

“You smell divine, darling,” he purrs, groaning deep within the back of his throat. “Just might kill me again.”

You’d laugh if you had the strength, instead peering down your body at him with a desperate need. “H, I need…need—”

“Need me, hm?” He exhales a gentle breath across your clit and it’s so very cold. But it makes you jump, a new wave of arousal seeming to soak the sheets beneath. “Need me to make it better, yeah?”

You nod swiftly. “Yes…yeah. Hurts, Har.”

“Hurts?” he repeats with faux sympathy. “Oh, dove. Bet it does. Bet it’s all achy.”

Your head moves on its own accord, and you feel your stomach quiver when his cool hands curl around your thighs, keeping them spread.

“I imagine,” he whispers, returning his eyes to your pussy. “Cause I know how much it aches for me.”

He dives in, tongue lapping at your warmth and wetness without mercy as you cling to the sheets and arch from the bed.

His arms fold over your hips, keeping you pressed down and pliable to his intentions as he begins. Licking, sucking, and nibbling at certain spots – but never the spot you need him most.

The tantalizing edge of his fang grazes your soft, sensitive cunt. Sometimes harder, sometimes softer. But always impatient, desperate to feel you anyway he can.

Truth be told, you suppose he enjoys feeding on you this way just as much. In fact, this is what he claims is his nourishment whenever he’s feeling weak and unwell. One taste of your pussy and he’s a changed man.

He has you every day. Makes sure you’re at his beck and call – which you already are, anyway. 

If he’s working, if he’s cooking, if he’s reading. He merely gives you a look and calls you by that familiarly loving nickname, and next thing you know, you’re sitting on his face.

The stretch of your muscles is almost distracting, but not nearly as distracting as his groans of pleasure. The way he curses to himself as he swallows you down. Nudging at your cunt with his mouth like you’re the best meal he’s ever had.

And then…those perfect lips find your clit. He sucks, and moans, and you cry out his name. Grasping onto his hair in a futile attempt at stability and more.

He lets you tug him closer. You imagine – if he were still alive – he’d be suffocated by your pussy. Which…he’d probably enjoy.

As it is, he continues his ministrations almost mercilessly while you squirm beneath him and attempt to buck up against his tongue.

“I know,” he whispers, almost soothingly, and it feels like a vast contrast to the way he forces you into so much pleasure. “Know, darling. Can hear your pretty, little heart racing. Try to breathe, yeah? While you still can.”

You suck in a greedy gasp, eager to obey, as you focus on the sounds coming from between your thighs. It’s sinful and sensual and it echoes around the room until it’s all you hear.

“Doing so good, babydove,” he murmurs, glancing up just long enough to see the first tear slip from your eye. “It’s a lot right now, I know. I know, but you can take it. Always do so good for me. Let me see you cum, yeah? Let me see this pretty pussy cum for me.”

And you want to more than anything. Chasing the need in your own belly along with the need from his venom. The combined rush of ecstasy that makes stars explode across your eyelids as more destitute sounds fall from your tongue. 

His hands suddenly slip beneath your back, forcing you from the bed as he repositions you and nearly pulls you right through him. 

Large fingers grope the tender flesh of your ass as he holds you against his mouth and sucks the sensitive nerves between puckered lips. 

“Tell me,” he ushers softly, a golden hue to those vivid eyes watching you closely. “Tell me how bad I need you. Tell me how much I love you—”

“Har,” you gasp, trembling in his touch. “Can’t…can’t…m’gonna cum, I…please—”

“Try. Tell me. Tell me that you feel me—”

“I do,” you whine. “I do, I feel you. Feel you, Har. So good. It’s so good, please—”

“All right, darling. You gonna let me taste you? Need to taste you, darling. Can’t live without it—”

“Harry—”

He pulls away just enough to raise his hand and smack it down your cunt. The cold metal of his ring catching your clit before two more spanks are laid in succession.

You moan loudly – almost undone by the eroticism itself – before he dips back down, and grazes the delicate bud with the edge of his fang.

You feel him slip a finger inside. Pumping you once – twice – before he adds a second. Wanting to fill you and finger-fuck you to the edge as quickly as possible.

It hits you then. Overpowers you and knocks the wind from your lungs. 

You fall apart in his hands, against his tongue. Moaning and whimpering as your toes curl and your eyes roll to the back of your head. It feels as though you cum twice as hard – perhaps a result of the venom or the symbolism of his need for you. The way your taste has satisfied his thirst.

“Yes, yes…there you go, that’s my fucking girl.” His tone is rough but riddled with lust. He groans like he’s never been filled with so much devotion. An anxious almost obsessed sound that drags your orgasm on at least a few seconds longer. “Give it to me, dove…fucking give it to me—”

“Harry—” You gasp his name like it’s the last sound you’ll ever make. Tears building in your eyes before they cascade down your warm cheeks. 

Ever the sadist, Harry works you through until your cunt is throbbing and far too sensitive to the touch. Despite your cries and whimpers for mercy, he carries on. Thrusting, licking, and sucking until you can hardly breathe.

Eventually he releases you and leans back. Perhaps able to hear the erratic racing of your pulse beneath your chest as he now works to hush your anxious mewling.

Crawling up your body with care, his fangs retract, and he buries his face in your neck to keep you still. Pressing his chest to yours in an effort to help calm you.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, lips grazing your skin as he speaks. “It’s okay, dove. You’re okay. God, did so fucking good for me, darling. Always taste so good, make me so happy.”

You tiredly grasp onto his arms, needing to hold onto him just as tightly as he’s holding onto you. Wanting to share in this moment as he smirks against your throat. 

“You okay?” he asks you now. “You’re nervous again.”

“No, I’m…I’m okay,” you assure him through a pant. “I just…it feels so good. So…heavy, you know? Overwhelming.”

He chuckles softly and pushes up onto his elbows to get a good look at you. Thumb finding your cheekbone as he traces the delicate curve of your face with great adoration. “Are you saying I overwhelm you?”

You nod, smiling giddily as you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. “In the best possible way.”

Grinning himself, he leans down to capture your lips with his. And it’s soft and slow and an oddly angelic end to such a devilish evening.

“Har?” you whisper, lashes fluttering shut as you nose your way under his jaw.

“Yes, dove?”

Your kisses trail below his ear, making his fingers flex. “You know what I think?”

“What's that, darling?”

You begin to smirk wickedly as you slip your hand around the back of his neck and tug him closer. Allowing the edge of your teeth to finally make contact with his skin.

He stills.

“I think it’s my turn now.”

Just wanna put in a quick note and clarify that even though she was feeling a bit of his horniness and desire, she was still very much horny all on her own HAHAHA this was 1000000% consented to from beginning to end from both parties!

Also vampire!harry is so fun?? And I loved this?? WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME??

~ Freaky Fun Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @scndsofsummer @theofficialprongs

[daisynik7]

“freak-a-leek” by petey pablo for a jean and eren threesome if that’s okay plz

Freek-A-Leak

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader x Jean Kirstein

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.9k

cw: modern setting au, explicit language, p*rn w/no plot, smut – threesome, PIV sex (missionary), cunnilingus, blowjob, sex toy use, masturbation, cum-eating, dirty talk, sex without a condom, pet names (baby, sweetheart), reader has multiple orgasms, creampies, just some overall smutty silliness

Summary: You’re on a business trip with the two cockiest salesmen in your department: Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein. After a long day of dealing with them clashing over the silliest things, you decide to unwind in your hotel room the best way you know how. 

Author’s Note: This is the last song on the y2k karaoke party playlist! Thank you so much for the request anon! I had fun with this! It’s all horny and just plain silly, so I hope you like it. Thank you so much for reading! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune. 

It’s almost 10 PM when you finally make it back to your hotel room, completely spent from today’s activities. It’s the first day of the conference here in Marley and being stuck in the middle of Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein has proven to be much more exhausting than you anticipated. 

You’re not completely convinced you needed to come on this business trip with them. After all, they’re the top two salesmen in your department, and this conference is solely for selling your product to new customers. Your boss, Hangë, encouraged you, the lead design engineer, to tag along in case they needed any technical support while demonstrating the ODM equipment. You were reluctant at first, but when they emphasized the fact that this trip would be completely paid for, including the lodging and food, how could you refuse? 

Unfortunately for you, because of the two clashing personalities between Jean and Eren, you ended up playing mediator throughout the day rather than engineer. The two bickered as usual, from where to eat, to what side of the table they wanted to stand on. In front of the customers, they were professional and charismatic, no hint of animosity lingering around them. As soon as it was the three of you alone, it was nonstop arguing and snide remarks, with you doing your best to either ignore it or alleviate it until the next fight arose. 

Luckily for you, Hangë set you up with your own room at the hotel while the other two shared the one right beside you. There’s an adjoining door for easy access into each other’s space and Jean begs you to open it when you first check in, not wanting a single moment alone with his temporary roommate. But after today’s festivities, you’re desperate for some private time by yourself.

Jean steps into your room, leaning against the doorframe. “So, should we watch a movie?” he suggests, still in his dress shirt, tie loosened around his collar.

Eren appears behind him, on his tip-toes to get your attention. “Why don’t we play video games instead?”

You yawn, shooing them away. “I’m exhausted, so I’m going to sleep.” 

You try to shut the door on them, but Jean pushes back, persistent. “You’re not seriously going to leave me alone with him, are you?” He points his thumb to the man behind him. 

Eren scoffs. “I don’t want to be alone with you either!”

“Dude, you are breathing down my neck! Give me some space.”

“Then move so I can talk to her!”

“It’s not your turn to talk!”

“Guys!” you yell, losing your patience. “I am tired. Try to get along so we can all get some sleep. Please?”

They grumble to themselves, shoving elbows at each other before they finally leave you alone, closing the door to give you your peace. You don’t bother locking in, certain they won’t be bothering you the rest of the night. 

After a nice, hot shower, you get comfortable in your pajamas, rummaging through one of your pouches until you find what you’re looking for. After a long day with those two goofballs, the best way for you to relieve stress is to have a little playtime. You carry your vibrator with you to bed, one ear bud in, and your favorite naughty audio ready to play on your phone. Only five minutes in, with the fluttering tip pressed to your clit, it doesn’t take long for you to orgasm. Ready for another, you get distracted by the muffled voices of your neighbors, bickering once again. You pop your ear bud out, trying to hear whatever dumb topic they’re arguing about now. The toy is still vibrating in your hands, the tip wet with your arousal. You let your imagination wander, thinking of Jean and Eren just on the other side of the wall. Hot, heated, raring to go. Fantasizing about the nasty, filthy things they could do to you if they knew just how horny you are, pent up with sexual frustration from all the testosterone you were surrounded with today. 

Suddenly, the door swings open and Eren stomps into the room, shouting your name. “Who do you find more annoying, me or him?!” Jean follows right on his tail, trying to grab him by the collar of his undershirt, hissing, “She’s sleeping, you dumbass!” They stop in their tracks, staring wide-eyed at you with your legs spread open on the bed, blanket shrugged off, vibrator buzzing in your hand. Completely exposed.

You quickly pull the covers over you, hiding the toy beneath your pillow, mortified. “What the fuck?!” you yell out to them. 

Both of them gape at you, blushing all the way down to their necks, speechless for the first time all day. Their silence is louder than any squabbling they’ve done today, and you have no idea what to say to make this any less awkward than it already is. 

Before you can think of another response, Eren clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey Jean. Bet I can make her come harder than you can.”

Jean glances at him, hesitant at first, then relaxes into a smirk. “Oh yeah? You’re on.”

Eren steps towards the bed, grinning at you. “What do you say? Will you help us?” 

You stare at them, befuddled and also extremely intrigued by this offer. Deciding quickly, you nod at them, releasing the grip on the blanket. They both smile at you, putting a flutter in your belly. Eren laughs, tugging on the covers slowly. “Come on. You can’t hide from us now.”

Jean joins in, dragging it down your body until you’re on display again, pussy glistening from your first orgasm. They both swear under their breaths, Eren licking his lips while Jean bites his. “Fuck, did you already come?”

“Yeah, I did,” you answer, pussy aching to be touched by either one of them. Both of them.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Eren says, inching towards you. “You’re extra juicy for me, huh?”

“Why do you get to go first?” Jean butts in, scowling. 

Eren positions himself at your arousal, his breath hot on your pussy as he replies, “I don’t want to lick your spit.”

“Well, I don’t want to lick yours either! Let me goes first.”

“Fuck you, I’m already here.”

“Then move!” 

“Guys!” you cry out, bucking your hips, desperate for anything at this point. “Just hurry up and touch me. Please.”

Eren sticks his tongue out. “You heard her,” he muffles, licking circles around your clit. “Let’s make our girl feel good.”

Jean swallows hard, positioning himself beside you, puckering his lips around your nipples and sucking. You moan, arching your back off the bed, running your fingers through his hair. “Feels so good,” you whine, feeding your other breast to him. He latches on immediately, pulling your teat between his lips while Eren laps at your puffy clit. With your free hand, you grab hold of his hair, gripping it to pull him deeper into your cunt. Soon, you’re gushing on his face, rutting your hips against him while he swallows every drop of you. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” Eren says, tongue prodding into your slit. 

“I want a taste too,” Jean mutters, giving your nipple one last hard suck before he releases you with a wet pop. 

“Not yet,” Eren murmurs, kissing the soft plush of your thighs. 

Jean crawls to where he is, shoving him slightly to stick his face into your pussy. “It’s my turn, jackass.” He laps at your clit, determined to be better than his rival. 

Eren laughs, collecting your slick slathered on his chin and lips with his fingers, licking it off. “Be honest, baby. Is he doing better than me?” He strips out of his bottoms, lying beside you, stroking his hard cock. 

You squeeze your thighs around Jean’s head, bucking into his mouth, already close to your third climax. Your eyes go from Eren’s fist jerking himself off to Jean’s face shaking between your legs, eating you out feverishly. He teases a finger inside you and when you flutter around it, he slides in all the way, adding a second.

“No fair,” Eren breathes out, stroking himself faster.

Jean chuckles against your skin, sucking on your clit while he pumps his fingers in and out of you. You turn your head to face Eren, leaning towards him to kiss him sloppily. He cradles your cheek with his free hand, pulling you in deeper, tongue swirling around yours, slurping up your spit. Once again, you’re pushed over the edge, coming on Jean’s face this time, his nose pressed to your sensitive bud as he drinks up all the slick leaking out of you. 

“Fuck me,” you beg, not directing it to anyone in particular.

Eren smiles against your mouth, licking your drool off the corners of your lips. “Go ahead, Jean. You can go first.”

Jean shoves his pants down, releasing his stiff cock, palming it. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he says, kneeling next to your head, tracing your lips with the tip of his cock. “We’re having way too much fun right here, aren’t we sweetheart?” You nod in response, moaning around his dick as you sink your mouth on it, swallowing it until it’s to the back of your throat. “Fuck, you take it so good. You wanted to get fucked like this tonight, huh? Wanted to show us what a freak you are.”

Jean slides his cock inside you, stretching you out until he bottoms out. He spreads your legs apart, holding you open so he can pound straight into you. Eren’s focus goes from his own pleasure to his friend thrusting. “Fuck her harder, Jean.”

He obeys, picking up the pace, shoving himself deeper. You choke on your own moans, pulling off Eren to catch your breath. He cradles your face in his hands, massaging your cheeks tenderly. “You’re okay, sweetheart. Take a break. Just enjoy getting fucked by this fat cock.”

“Fuck,” Jean growls, closing his eyes. “I’m so close.”

Eren licks his lips, watching. “Don’t pull out. Fill her up.”

At that, Jean loses it, spurting his hot load inside you, your pussy fluttering around him. He pulls out, switching spots with Eren, snuggling up next to you to kiss you softly. You smile at him, whispering, “Thank you.”

He plants a smooch on your nose. “Thank you, baby.”

“Hey, don’t forget about me,” Eren says, guiding his hard cock inside you. “I’m going to fuck all this cum right back inside this cunt.”

You and Jean both moan, watching him fuck you with a devilish grin on his face. Jean reaches under the pillow, retrieving the toy you used earlier. “Can I use this on you?”

Incoherent and fucked out, you nod, desperate for whatever it is they want to offer to you. He presses the button, making the vibrator buzz in his grip, pressing the fluttering tip to your clit while Eren continues to ravish you. His eyes widen when he sees what Jean’s doing. “Oh shit. She’s squeezing me so fucking tight.” 

You’re in a drunken daze, trembling all over your body from the pleasure, whimpering uncontrollably with Jean toying with your clit as Eren fucks your brains out. When you reach your final climax, Eren comes with you, burying his cum deep inside your womb. You’re stuffed to the brim with both their loads, feeling exhausted and euphoric. 

Eren pulls out, cuddling up to your other side, kissing your forehead. Jean sets the vibrator aside, spooning you from the back. You relax in their arms, actually happy to be stuck in the middle of them for once.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Eren asks jokingly, “So…who won?”

“Obviously me,” Jean grins, kissing your neck.

You laugh, snuggling closer to the both of them. “I think I’m the real winner here.”

[theillustraitor]

My human Dan design! Plus some ghost Dan to practice drawing him.

I'll explain more in depth below the cut for those who are curious, but the basic ideas for why he looks this way is that his human half is a mix of Danny and Dan(with a small sprinkle of Vlad). It was supposed to eventually match his ghost form more, but things had to be cut short on that path so he got kinda stuck with a middle of the road body(he's roughly late teens).

I'm desperate for him to not look exactly like Danny, but I also had this funny idea that he would somehow end up attending Casper High after he is decently redeemed(so his human body had to be younger than his ghost form). Like just imagine the interactions. Dan would *definitely* get revenge on Dash lol

More detailed explanation:

The clone Dan was stuck in was pretty much constantly destabilizing post AGIT. This was due to the imperfect nature of them, Dan's high power, and the physical difference between the two forms. Vlad and Danny kept it from totally falling apart by using the ecto-dejecto. They had to use it *a lot* though.

Vlad tweaked the clone to be able to be shaped by Dan's ghost(to fix the incongruence of the bodies, and to possibly make it so the body could handle Dan's power better). This is what led to the mixing of Dan and Danny; the body was going from Danny to Dan in terms of appearance. It was taking some time though and they were definitely going to run out of the ecto-dejecto, *especially* since Dani also needs it(I like to think that the ecto-dejecto wasn't a permanent fix, so she has to use it on occasion. There's also no way Danny would give a mid-morph sample at this point cause he and Dani are still pretty distrustful of Vlad.)

Since Jack had originally made the ecto-dejecto Vlad could not figure out how tf to replicate it. Jack had also forgotten how he made it because, I mean, it’s Jack(nevermind that he wouldn’t even have a reason to remember how to make something that’d help ghosts/was a failed version of an experiment)

Vlad then developed a way to convert the ectoplasmic nature of the clones to good ol’ human meat(aka permanent stabilization for Dan). Vlad ended up having to do that to Dan before his human form could completely match his ghost form, hence the mix and being physically younger than his ghost form(a note: the bodies not matching remains a problem, but not a crippling/kill him kind of one. Dan is usually in pain after going ghost, especially if he used his powers a lot, but it fades relatively fast. Additionally, he(unrelated to body stuff) cannot be ghostly for too long because the ghost half will destabilize(not goopy, time/reality)).

I also had this idea that the ghost catcher could be used to permanently fuse Dan's ghost to the human body. I doubt he's fused with the clone body in AGIT, and this would continue to be a problem with my idea; Dan is basically just puppeting/overshadowing the bodies. The catcher has a merge side, sooooo

Finally, some design stuff(and a bit about him going to Casper). As mentioned Dan looks younger, which means he is capable of attending Casper High, and he does so because he never actually finished school(and he would be able to stalk/keep an eye on Danny and the others better. By this point he no longer wants to kill them, and is instead paranoid about the possibility of them dying, so yup, stalking). He'd be put in the same grade as Jazz so they could hang out and what not.

Vlad is also glad to have any time away from Dan because they fight a lot lol

But once at Casper due to his Vlad half he plays football(Vlad fusion aside, it’s a sport where he can be violent w/o problem). Dan got a letterman jacket from that, but he still hates the popular kids so he had Sam dye it black.

The hair streak is also from Vlad, but Dan's hair style is just his ghost form's minus the whole fire thing.

His clothing style is a mix of Vlad and Danny’s(except the jacket). Shirt is from Danny, pants from Vlad, then sneakers + dress shoes = boots.

Finally, it’s a bit subtle but he has heterochromia; one eye is Danny's color, the other Vlad’s.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 8

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

Bucky read the report you made. His expression was unreadable. He closed the book and said, “Thank you. I’m satisfied with your work.” He said it as if he finally got the answer he wanted. He added, “I’ve got all I need.”

His eyes looked at the ground as if he were deep in thought. Then he returned to his cheerful demeanor and looked at his watch. “Let’s go home, it’s already late. Tom has called many times because he can’t get through to you.”

After he said that, you quickly grabbed your phone and saw the notifications of 20 missed calls from your dad. You scratched your head, realizing this was the consequence of being too focused on work, forgetting to eat or sleep.

As you headed back to your car, Natasha blocked your way. “Stop what you’re doing.”

“Why?” you asked, crossing your arms. “Why should I listen to you?”

Natasha’s face hardened. “This isn’t your business.”

You couldn’t believe her audacity. Did her ears clog with earwax when Bucky told everyone he hired you? Of course, it was your business since you were hired as an auditor in this hotel. You ignored her, got into your car, and left.

Watching the sports car get farther away, Natasha clenched her fists. She felt terrible, especially knowing that you were more successful than her. The sports car, the designer clothes, and the expensive bag you carried—gosh, she hated it.

She felt her phone vibrate. She saw the caller ID and hesitated to answer. When she finally did, her voice trembled. “I think…” She took a deep breath and released it. “Bucky has found out.”

👓

The next day, you woke up and went to Bronze Lodge again. This time, you were grateful that Natasha wasn't there. Such a great way to start your day.

As you headed to your office to continue your work, you heard someone call your name. You turned around and saw a man waving at you excitedly. He wore a blue shirt, light brown pants, and a tie. He came closer and pointed at himself with a happy smile. “Do you remember me?”

“Jake Jensen,” you nodded.

“I heard a rumor that you’re back. I thought it was a lie. Glad to see you, old friend. Do you want to grab lunch together later?” Jake asked.

You politely declined, “I’ll have to say no. I have to fix the lousy job of the previous auditor.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, the previous one didn’t work at all. Next time then,” Jake said before leaving.

You smiled awkwardly and quickly entered your office, closing the door behind you. You peeked through the blinds, making sure Jake was gone. With a sigh of relief, you sat down at your desk.

You declined his lunch invitation because you made boundaries after what he did to you.

You and Jake were friends in high school, but "friends" didn’t fit. He was more of a classmate with whom you shared some things in common—both of you were nerds and outcasts.

But the difference between you and him was that you didn’t mind being a loner. Jake, however, desperately wanted to join Bucky’s group, where the popular kids gathered. He thought there was a chance because a guy like Steve was in that group.

What makes Steve different is that he and Bucky are childhood friends. And Steve's mom used to be Bucky's nanny.

Jake tried so hard to be cool but always failed. You wanted to feel bad for him, but you couldn’t because of what he did that made Natasha and her group act like jerks toward you.

One day, when you entered the classroom, Natasha and her minions confronted you, accusing you of being a snitch. You didn’t understand what they were talking about until your teacher said, “I’m glad you saw what they did on the last exam. I’m surprised Natasha and her friends could give answers like that.”

Then it hit you. No wonder Natasha was mad at you; you were seated next to her. But you knew you didn’t tell your teacher about her cheating. You knew who the real snitch was.

It was Jake.

He sat at the back, where he could see everything. He was the one who told the teacher. He then told Natasha’s friend that you had informed the teacher, and her friend told Natasha. Jake did it so Natasha would feel like she owed him and invite him into the group. But she didn’t, and Jake’s plan was futile.

Since then, you have never trusted him. Even now.

🎩

You continued working until you heard a knock on the door. Thinking it must be Bucky, you called out, “Enter,” without even bothering to lift your head. But it wasn’t him.

“I see that you’re busy,” a voice said.

You looked up and were shocked to see the mayor of the town, Mayor Martin Reynolds, standing before you.

“Good morning, sir,” you greeted him, trying to mask your surprise.

“I won’t bother you for too long. I just want to tell you something,” Mayor Martin said.

“Yes?” you replied, feeling a sense of unease.

He rested his hand on your table, crumpling some of your papers in the process. The tension in the room grew as he leaned closer and said, “Stop what you’re doing and leave everything.” Then, without another word, he left.

You were stunned. What’s going on? Why were Natasha and the mayor of the town both telling you to stop?

Did both of them know about the money embezzlement?

🍽️

Because of what Mayor Martin said to you, you lost your focus. Bucky didn’t come to visit you either, so you decided to go home early after work.

You headed to a diner for dinner. It was crowded, and the only empty seat was at the counter. You ordered some food and waited.

A moment later, another customer sat beside you. It was Steve.

You ignored him and looked at your phone.

“I’ve talked to my dad, and I’ve sent an application to art school,” Steve said.

“Hmmm…” you replied noncommittally.

Steve continued, “I hope I can leave this town just like you. This town is too greedy.”

‘Greedy?’ That word caught your attention. You turned to him, surprising him slightly that you finally acknowledged him. “What do you mean by greedy?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

Steve was slightly surprised you wanted to talk to him; he answered, “This town’s full of greedy people. It’s all power and money. I need to get out.”

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Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[crumb]

i love how benson is, on the surface, this devil-may-care kind of character, going around shooting people, dragging randy around to fix his life and scaring the hoes in the process—but at the same time there are these little details that show how much he does care. I mean the big obvious one is his motivation for wanting to fix randy, fix randy and help him not turn out like benson and the rest of the people in the small town, we all know this and have gone over these themes. but the smaller details, unintentional or not, those are really nice. Benson being the only one at Burger Burgers Burgers who has his sleeves cuffed and his shirt tucked in. This is one of many details that shows Benson does care, he cares about how he looks and how he's perceived to some extent. because let's be honest, it does set his character apart from the stereotypical 'redneck working at a fast food joint'. Which then gives an added weight to when he walks outside for his cigarette and untucks his shirt. he's releasing himself from this more restrained version he's presented himself as up until that point. Which then ALSO makes Chris saying "Benson, why do you fucking care?" even funnier. because like... Benson basically responds by killing him which in a way is him saying "hey, you're right, why do I fucking care?" lmaoooo Benson is also the only one, other than Randy (and I guess hardy?) who is wearing BBB uniform trousers. Chris is wearing cargo joggers and Jess is wearing a mini skirt with fishnets. If benson really didn't care about that job, or how he looked at that job, would he be wearing 100% of the uniform, well fitted, cuffed, tucked, cleaned, and ironed? And then when changing outfits at his house he puts on a fuzzy yellow/green cardigan and graphic ringer tee, the choices of which feel very intentional and like they're his favorite pieces of clothing. Which I think must be true if you think about him knowing this is his swan song, he wants to go out looking good. But what he doesn't change? His trousers. You'd think after killing three people at a job you probably don't particularly like and dragging their bodies around, changing out of the uniform would be a relief, other than wanting to just get out of clothes that are recognizable to the restaurant. Which makes me think his BBB uniform trousers are the best/most well-fitting trousers he owns which in itself is interesting. I mean look at the clothes he gives randy, they're not that much different in body size so even on benson those jeans would've been oversized as hell. This somewhat cleaned up version of himself that he presents, especially pre-killing spree, juxtaposed to his home life and his car is, I think, a great representation of Benson as a person. His home life, the clutter, his Ma in the front room, the clothes he gives randy, the junk strewn around his car—versus his cleaned and cuffed and tucked uniform and his stylish cardigan and graphic tee (idc what you say i love the cardigan)—I think it shows someone who is struggling but putting on a brave front, trying to come off as put together, as someone who knows himself and doesn't care about other people's perceptions, but at the same time so desperately does care and hates that he cares, and hates that he can't seem to change things. he can only dress them up a little to look presentable to passersby. and maybe it's one of those "the walls are just blue because they're blue!!" type situations and the wardobe dept or kyle or carter or the art director and whoever else, maybe it's just simply style/design decisions by one or several of them and there's no subtextual meaning behind it all—but even if so, I love that, to me at least, it's developed this deeper meaning within the context of the film and the character.

Don't even get me started on the Kurt Cobain cardigan and Benson having a shotgun in his trunk.

[the-fictional-wife]

Finding Happiness (Itachi Uchiha x reader)- 1

This is the start of a series of scenarios for post-war Itachi (yes he lives) finding happiness with you! I miss fluff in Itachi's tag so why not make my own.

I want to mainly focus on the relationship but some chapters down the line will explain more plot also the chapter sequences might not end up in chronological order^^

This will be fem reader heads up so she/her pronouns!

Even though this isn't nsfw, some things in this series won't be exactly appropriate so imma still say MDNI!

////- means pov switch

Word count: 2.0k+

Chapter 1- Grocery Shopping + Cafe Cuties Next Chapter?

“I want to help.”

“You should want to take it easy instead,” you sigh. Itachi was up...yet again to help despite being on mandatory bedrest to help his body regain its strength back. He’s restless; it’s easy to understand; he’s banned from missions, and staying home is rather dull, but...

“Tsunade strictly said you were to rest while on house arrest. That’s the whole point I’m here.” You rest your arm on the cool kitchen countertop to grab a pen and begin writing down a shopping list with a huff.

“....”

At the silence, you turn around with pursed lips to face Itachi only to stifle a laugh when you see his face: eyebrows furrowed, lips just slightly jutted-

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s pouting.

“I would argue three weeks of nothing but bed imprisonment is adequate enough rest, don’t you agree.” Itachi huffs. 

After weeks of being detained right alongside Sasuke, Kakashi made the executive decision that Itachi deserved something better than a jail cell: temporary house arrest. 

With a babysitter. 

You glance at Itachi’s mildly annoyed face, momentarily taking in the sight.

You’ll spare him...for today.

“hm...fine, the sun would do you well anyway.” You finish writing the list and hand it to Itachi, whose eyes blankly rake the paper, then folds it into his pocket.

“Well, let’s go,” You stand at the doorway where a large black seal awaits, designed to trigger the alarm around Itachi’s ankle. Weaving the signs, you both squint at the burst of light before ushering him out the door.

As the two of you walk out of the Uchiha compound, you ponder over the last few weeks with Itachi. You can’t count the heart attacks you’ve gotten from seeing an empty bed and surprise; he was admiring the fish. 

He is a quiet, stealthy patient, somewhat akin to an 87-year-old senior citizen. On the more serious end, you think back solemnly; his eyes had often reflected his concession to emptiness. Sunken in and soulless.

‘But now…’ You peer at Itachi from the corner of your eye.

His eyes sharp and attentive; the color is back in his face; sunkissed pink cheeks, his short sleeve shirt giving view to his lean muscles-

‘He’s actually kinda...’ 

////

Itachi can’t tell if it’s the heat of your gaze or the sun flushing his cheeks.

Your gaze washes over him, a captivating light he yearns to forever bask in. Domesticity is a variable of life he is unacquainted with and…undeniably undeserving of. 

And yet, the further you expose him to gentleness, affection, and peace, the more he greedily deludes himself into that he belongs.

Encompassed in a life of peace he’s desperately craved, peace he’s found with you.

Within the shinobi existence, emotions, relationships…living. All become an unforeseeable luxury.  

It’s unsettling to desire. To be human.

Itachi silently shifts his eyes toward you, observing as you conceal your face, abashed from being caught. He finds himself smitten. 

“You were looking a little pale. If you feel weak at any time, don’t be afraid to lean on me.” 

A lie, of course. An utterly endearing one.

‘Perhaps, in this life…’

He capitalizes on the chance anyway. 

‘…I can be selfish.’

////

As you head into the village, you feel something creep around your arm. 

Neither of you acknowledge it.

+++

Your arm is still intertwined with Itachi’s as you both find purchase in a decently sized everything market. Waving to the cat perched in the front, you read the aisle numbers with its affiliated products: ‘Household items- 1, Toys- 2, Jewelry- 4,...Fruits & Dairy- 5’. After detecting where you wanted to begin, you guys head to your destination, avocados. 

Itachi lightly tugs your arm, signaling your attention.

“It’ll be quicker if we split. The potatoes are within eye range; I’ll only be a minute.” Your face scrunches in; reluctantly, you let go with a poorly concealed pout.

“... don’t trust me? I promise I’ll return to you shortly.” With that, Itachi saunters, leaving a lingering graze against your skin. 

You pause, leaving the way your heart palpitates unavowed. ‘A kiss would have sufficed,’ you snicker and return to your dilemma with hunched shoulders.

You’re on your fifth avocado before you give a groan of defeat. “I can’t tell which ones are good or not; they all look the same,” you mumble, distracted enough to miss the figure peering closer.

“May I see?”

His gentle whisper tickles your ear, you force the quiver down your spine to still- even when you feel his careless lips making one too many brushes to your ear, you wordlessly nod yes.

His broad chest and feather touch of his hair against your cheek overwhelm your senses as he reaches his arm around your waist to probe at the fruit you have in hand.

You pray he can’t feel the way your heart beats.

“Hmm...this one is ripe. You can tell by the dark color and firmness...good eye.” Within a blink, the weight of Itachi’s presence vanished, and he pulled away.

Ah. That.

“R-right, thank you,” you fumbled over your wording and rushed to the edge of the aisle. “Okay, let’s split from here to make things easier; I do the first half of the list, you do the last. Capeesh?” Fingers bend into a okay sign; you give a shaky grin and rush down to the next aisles, leaving Itachi to fend for himself.

“...” Itachi blinks, idly standing before he lets out a defeated puff of air.

 ‘...It appears I’ve made a mistake.’ With furrowed brows, he peers down at the list with a harsh, focused stare.

Your mind hasn’t left Itachi as your heart physically pains in guilt; it’s his first time out in weeks, and you flat leave him. Putting your final item in your shopping basket, you haul it down Itachi’s direction, only to find him in the exact same position as before.

Tilting your head, you ask befuddled, “Itachi, what are you doing?...” Oh. 

You steer closer, and the pitiful sight in front of you makes your shoulders pull straight; Itachi’s eyes strain, glaring down at the paper an inch away from his face at a poor attempt at reading the words.

He can’t see.

‘How long has he been-’ you quickly shuffle in your bag and call for Itachi’s attention. “You should’ve said something! I had brought your glasses with me, but I completely forgot about it-” Itachi takes it with a grateful upturn of his lips.

“Thank you..” He mutters, drawing his attention back to the list. “We are still missing the tomatoes and bread; I passed them earlier on our way in. Follow me.” Itachi gingerly takes your wrist in hand and leads you down the correct aisle.

Soon after you paid, you’ve collectively decided to grab a bite to eat. “Itachi, you smell that?” You sigh out an exhale; an alluringly sweet smell wafts itself above all the open markets along the sides from a small corner amongst the buildings. A mini cafe.

You brush against the roughness of Itachi’s calloused fingers, only grabbing his pinkie to lead him down.

You’ll pretend like you didn’t see the way he flushed. 

+++

Slouching in the seat across Itachi, you flex out the ache in your fingers from the weight of the bags as you wait for your shared order of dangos.

“I’ll assist you with the baggage on our way out.”

Looking up in disbelief, you scoff,  “Hell no- you’re still in recovery.”

“Don’t overwork yourself for my sake....”

Hypocrite.

You open your mouth to respond, only to suppress yourself at the sight of the waiter approaching.

The waiter smiles while serving your drink and food, then turns over and carelessly drops Itachi’s tea, droplets splashing onto Itachi’s lap.

With a twitching smile, the waiter laughs, “Oh, how clumsy of me, you should get yourself clean. You mutt; should be easy for a traitor, always covering his dirt.” Your mouth is agape, eyes shifting from Itachi to the waiter.

Itachi remains unfazed, his gaze fixed on the waiter with an air of nonchalance. It’s almost patronizing. The waiter scowls, turning away from the stare-down, muttering his pitiful complaints about Itachi’s mere presence.

“Geez, what was their problem?” You scoff side eyeing the waiter. Itachi sits silently, sipping his tea, looking down at his plate with a vacant stare. “...Itachi, you okay? I’ll go backhand a bitch for you, they had no right to treat you like that.” 

Itachi’s eyes shift to you at your aggressive demeanor. “Don’t. I’ve made peace with my past; their hate will only torment themself.” 

A lie. For a brisk moment, you noted how his mug trembled under the tension of his grip. You make a tsk noise, propping your head onto your hand, reluctantly letting the situation go.

Glancing up, Itachi discerns how your lips are still pulled into a snarl, glowering in the general direction of the offender. 

‘Hm, that won’t do.’

Rolling back the ache in his shoulders, he figures he could relieve your tension. If it’d make you smile,

“…besides…”

He’d be a fool. 

You turn back over with an inquiring hum.

“...they just aren’t sigma enough to control themself.” He returns to sipping his tea.

“…”

“....”

“Pfft- WHAT” You break the silence, convulsing with laughter. “I-Itachi, don’t ever say that in your life again- I’m not a good influence on you.” Still unable to break the giggles, you look at Itachi’s soft stare and slowly compose yourself under his unwavering gaze.

You cough in your hand and shift your eyes away.

“Let’s eat.”

You fall into a rhyme of chewing and idle conversation. 

“See, now you’re lying! I never laughed when you put your glasses on-” The table shifts from the weight of your knee. You firmly dangle Itachi’s wrist away from his glasses as he attempted to remove them a few seconds ago.

“...you couldn’t even catch your breath.”

“I was just surprised! I’ve never seen your eyes so…beady.” You tremble, holding back a cackle. His prescription, unfortunately, made his lens the size of a brick, but thankfully, Tsunade aided in making it more suitable.

“So now my eyes are beady,” His voice barely whispers, he looks off to the side. A look of dismay washed over your face; you cusp his face between your hands, pulling his gaze back up to you.

“Hey- don’t get all mopey; you know I think you’re cute with the glasses on.” You softly look to reassure him, guilty over your tease...until you notice the subtle twitch in his lips, a poor attempt at maintaining his stoic facade.

He was joking. 

Itachi shifts his weight into your palms, eyes closed in total serenity. “Do I?...”

‘Absolutely full of himself.’ You express your annoyance with an eye roll and flop back into your seat, leaving Itachi’s head to hang.

‘...did I displease her again.’ Itachi looks down at the final dango stick and holds it to you.

“Here, a truce for forgiveness.”

“But, that’s your favorite…and we bought that with your budget-” you sheepishly add.

“Please, I insist, I...don’t think I can finish this.” Itachi gives a light smile as he hovers the stick to your lips.

The blood rising to your face makes you dazed as you brush aside bits of your hair and savor the first dango ball on your tongue with a hum.

You swear it tastes sweeter from him.

“Thank you, Itachi; consider yourself forgiven.” You say before opening your mouth for the next one.

+++

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

“All done,” you brush your hands off proudly after putting away all the supplies and produce. When cleaning up the bags, you notice a mini bag that looks different from the rest. 

‘Could this be Itachi’s?...’ You gently spread open the bag, eyes widening in astonishment; a beautiful crystal necklace sweetly lying in a small box with a small note tagged onto the front.

It reads,

‘I hope it’s to your liking, I noticed you wear this color frequently. Let this be a mark of our friendship ~ Itachi.’

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

Note: Heyyy haven't wrote anything since like 2021 but I might be back probably, probably not- This is pretty self-indulgent but hope yall still enjoyed ^^

Do I think Itachi would say "sigma" if it meant you'd laugh for him after feeling like he depressed the mood? YES. Live with my canon.

Do I think Itachi actually likes physical touch but is just touch starved? YES. I'm projecting.

Any sort of love is appreciated don't be shy to say hi and good luck to everyone during finals week!

*Also-If you have any tips on writing + writing Itachi please let me know!

[deadboyfriendd]

Captain Seeks Mate

This is so stupid. 

At four cents a word, Early Bird had taken Steve Harrington for all he was worth. 

“Captain seeks mate– must be into pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. Mid-to-late 20s, witty and funny. Tall, dark, & handsome. Write to me and escape. Box D183.” 

He couldn’t believe himself, yet, here it was, nestled between Handyman Wanted and 1978 Plymouth Volare. The product of his own desperation, printed in Times New Roman– staring him in the face for this Sunday’s very own Early Bird edition. He wondered where it had all gone wrong, wondered where he went from Steve Harrington, local heartthrob, to an ad in the personal column of the absolute rag sheet that The Early Bird had always been. 

He wanted to blame Scoops Ahoy, those stupid little shorts and sailor hat. He wanted to blame Nancy Wheeler, who made him out to be an absolute idiot– No, he shook his head, you did that to yourself. 

And then he thought about you, golden under the blistering sun of Phoenix, Arizona. Arizona State University wreaked havoc on this life and he left with a minor in possession, 36 C-average credits in Business Administration, and a heart kicked directly in the ass. He wanted to blame you, he wanted to blame his father for sending him there– his own alma mater, he wanted to blame W. P. Carey himself, but even Steve wasn’t stupid enough to try to push this on someone else. 

Stupid, but not that stupid. 

It had been three years, and Steve had found himself settling into the comforts of blissful, beautiful stagnation. His apartment was nice– far nicer than his current job would allow him, thanks, Robin. 

It wasn’t like he frequented this place often. His home was adrift, on board The Lady May. It was an inherent truth that Steve belonged on a boat, preferably in the absence of a shirt– and this job had been the calling of a lifetime. Where Steve had struggled in the areas of statistics and business analytics, he learned the laws of the sea, learned the fishing regulations and how these animals functioned. Now, Steve got to live life as slow as the rolling waves of San Diego would take him. For that, he was thankful. 

“You’re seriously advertising yourself in the paper now?” Robin asked him, her eyes peering over the top of the paper with both wonder and disgust, “Do I dare bring back the board?” 

“What?” Steve asked her, turning around from his barstool. 

“Captain seeks mate, Steven? This has you written all over it.” 

“Why are you even reading the personal column?” 

“Because I like to laugh at them.” She said to him with her brow raised. Her hand came down to gesture at those horrible, ambiguously worded advertisements, “But this? This is just sad.” 

He reached over to her, snatching the paper from her hands. He unfolded his glasses, letting them sit low against his nose, now unabashed by his need for them– his unyielding desire to see outweighing the once debilitating vanity that overtook his ability to simply wear them. Robin never pointed this out, she was just glad to see him doing something for himself for once. But this? There was no way she was letting this die. 

He read the paper with his brow furrowed, feigning confusion and nonchalance. Perhaps he could play this off, but there was nothing he was able to skirt past her. 

“Nope. Not me.” He started, face stone cold. It was an immediate sellout, but Robin was feeling generous today. She would let him have this. 

As he handed her the paper back, she gave him a sideways glance through a raised brow, wondering what had ever prompted him to be this desperate. Maybe he had finally gone crazy, all of those hours on the water finally turning him into a regular Castaway.  

+

This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen. 

Well, second most. The first had been moving to San Diego to cut your teeth on some rag sheet with the promise of being the sole graphic designer. Something new and exciting. You could do new and exciting, you tried to convince yourself of this. You had graduated summa cum laude from one of the top ten design schools in the country– you just didn’t mention that that had been Arizona State and you had also gotten a minor in underage drinking. New and exciting was your game. 

But this? This had been one of the most entertaining things you had ever seen, staring you right in the face. You couldn’t stop the laugh that tumbled from your lips, drawing looks from the editors perched at their beige desks like the world's most modern gargoyles. Had no one else seen this? 

“Captain seeks mate– must be into pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. Mid-to-late 20s, witty and funny. Tall, dark, & handsome. Write to me and escape. Box D183.” 

It had been three years since Steve had disappeared without a trace, your golden boy under the glowing sun of your homeland. He was the greatest gem the Midwest had to offer, a diamond in the rough. Gold-skinned and eager, with a laugh like sunshine and a touch like Midas, gone back home with little to no warning. Your heart had been shattered in the process, manifesting itself in a nose to the grindstone and an early release of a BS in graphic design. The sun stung too much in his absence. You’d needed something frigid. 

Or maybe you’d been frigid enough. 

You rolled your shoulders at your desk, the cramping in your neck signaling the end of the work day and your ticket out of here– your home the promised land of naproxen and that waning bottle of Don Julio 70, a gem you’d grown to love an appreciate with all of your newfound adult money. 

You’d drained the last of your savings on a (most-likely overpriced) two bedroom a block away from the ragged coastlines of La Jolla Cove, where, every morning, you would watch the run rise along the tide pools where you’d tote your lukewarm mug of coconut cold brew, and watch the sun set over a rocky shore. It was a slow life, and you’d liked it that way. 

But tonight, as you watched the boats bob back and forth in the orange glow of the marina, you couldn’t help but to feel a semblance of nagging withing you. 

Captain Seeks Mate. 

It was ridiculous. It was stupid. But maybe something ridiculous and stupid was what you needed. Something with no pressure, something that was fun. Something that wouldn’t shatter your heart into another million pieces when it would disappear. 

So here you were, stupidly folded into a stupid, ridiculous pile at your stupid counter, drafting a big dumb letter on to a piece of paper: 

 Hello tall, dark, and handsome. 

I am writing in response to your ad in the personal columns of The Early Bird from the Sunday, June 27th edition. Three years ago, my heart was broken by another tall, dark, and handsome type. I read that the ocean heals, so I traded my land legs for sea, and now I seek a captain to guide me to smoother waters. 

 I will spare the formalities. I am not into hiking or health food. I live a life of comfort and leisure. I eat when I am hungry and drink when I am thirsty. I like to live my life in good company between work days, and you seem like the company I’d like to keep.

I am particularly fond of getting caught in the rain– when it happens, that is. I hail from the desert southwest, and I thrive on sunshine and sand. I live quietly. I like to read and paint. I keep houseplants. I am nobody’s poet, but I’m into champagne. 

I want to meet you. I want to cut through all of this red tape. 

It is true, I like pina coladas, though I prefer a tequila sunrise at the best of times. The Pisces bar on Mission and El Camino De Playa conveniently has both. Meet me there at tomorrow, noon. 

Sincerely, 

Tequila Sunrise

Box 1751.

[faithst]

LIVESTREAMS WITH ZB1

pairing zb1 x idol!reader

genre mostly comedy, maybe fluff ? reader is in zb1 🤝

warnings mentions of food/drinks in hao and hanbin’s

notes hi anon, thank you for requesting ! i didn’t want this to be romantic as idol life is,, something.. but still, i hope you enjoy this ! 🫶

masterlist<3

— zhang hao

you’re playing drinking games

and before you ask, no. it’s not actual alcohol

you mix up the most unhinged drink combinations

like soy milk + tea + mountain dew 😃

the drink literally has particles in it

you play the ‘of course’ game and it turns ugly real quick

“you know that i’m better than you at everything, right?” zhanghao says, feeling proud

“of course! zhanghao.. you know that hanbin loves me more, right?” a smirk tugging on your lips that zhanghao so desperately wanted to slap off

loses the game because of that and has to chug down every drop (he’s ok tho i think)

“you’re lucky we’re live right now.”

— sung hanbin

since he was a barista, you guys are making drinks

he teaches you some tips and tricks but it’s more complicated than you think

his drink is so much more visually pleasing than yours although you both followed the same steps 😭

like pretty gradient colors that blend well together

but it’s expected cuz he’s a professional

you do a taste test

and his drink tastes like heaven 👍

you offered yours to him and he tries it

ngl, you were nervous about his opinion

“uh, it’s definitely a new experience.”

— seok matthew

some kind of crafts live

where you both are making those bead bracelets

you make ones for eachother and also the other members !

and matthew is all like ‘oh, you’re gonna love what i made for you’

he’s so proud of his creations

and at some point he accidentally spills every bead onto the table 😭

and you both take a look at eachother like 😐

and it becomes quiet for a whole 5 minutes as he picks everything back up

after that, you both continue making bracelets for the other members 🫶

“jiwoon hyung likes this color, i know him better than you!”

— shen ricky

painting live

you guys are making paintings to hang on eachothers walls

it’s actually pretty chill with ricky 👍

but then he accidentally splattered some paint onto his designer white shirt

his honest reaction to that: ☹️

but its okay, he can just buy a new one. maybe get a car too while he’s at it

since ricky is really good at arts

you wanted to paint him smth nice too

so you just put your autograph onto the canvas

he loves it tho and keeps it in his room 😔

“i can sell this!”

— park gunwook

workout stream

it was actually supposed to be a live for gunwook and matthew

but matthew had to do smth else

so you offered to accompany gunwook instead !

gunwook shares his workout tips and you just nod and agree

you both share your workout routines and people make articles abt them 🫢

‘zb1’s gunwook and y/n workout routine: is it effective?’

oh and you also get thirst trap edits bcuz of this

flaunting your muscles and abs and stuff idk 😭

“do you guys wanna know the secret to my godly physique?”

— kim taerae

from the content we have now..

it’s 100% a karaoke live

wbk he loves singing and he wanted to invite you to ‘taerae show #2’

has his anpanman guitar, ready at hand 🤝

you both have a blast singing and taerae becomes main rapper at some point

he’s so immersed in the ballad songs, he prolly starts crying for effects 😔

biggest hypeman

like he’s all ‘OH MY GOD WOAHHHH’

and he also harmonises w you

don’t be surprised when you get a compilation of ‘y/n and taerae: 5th gen main vocals’

“100 points?! i’m so good!”

— kim gyuvin

q&a stream

answering fan questions and basically fan service

“is a butt one or two?”

gyuvin actually thinks about it for a second and is like “oh my god.” 😭

it got too confusing though so you continued reading the comments

someone asked what he did today and he started thinking

“uh..” “sorry, i forgot.” you joke, making gyuvin stare daggers to you 🫢

he looks back to the screen

and with a wide smile he said

“i’m sorry zerose! i think we have to end the live here. thank you for watching!”

— kim jiwoong

makeup stream

where you do his makeup

and he’s giving you those eyes yk 👀

the comments are going crazy bcuz of it

and when you do his lips, he smiles and it curves so perfectly (ahdguajskshaikahdh)

you accidentally went overboard with the glitter

but jiwoong pulls off everything so it still looks amazing

everyone loves what you did and your makeup style is trending 👍

“i think some glitter got stuck in my eye.”

— han yujin

i don’t know why but you both are face painting

but instead of face painting on yourselves, you face paint eachother

“i’m gonna make you into a piece of art” he says as he paints a streak onto your face

he stops to take a step back and look at everything from a bigger picture

and bursts into laughter 😃

you’re so worried abt what he did to you

he tries to regain his composure but laughs every few seconds

“what’s wrong? what did you do?” “nothing! i made you look very.. cool.” 😁

and then you look into a mirror and you look like shrek's offspring (yes, you get turned into a meme)

“this is my best piece yet! should i leave my signature too?”

© keiwook

[syluscore]

Read the camera series, and I had an idea 👀 what about a story where the reader is obsessed with Leon FIRST? Like, she watches him all the time and notices he kind of has an obsessive streak, and she likes him and decides that she wants him obsessed with HER. So she kinda leaves a trail of breadcrumbs to make him start liking her. She's sweet to him, does things for him, and makes notes of his preferences so she can match them perfectly. When he starts stalking her, she's all like "🥰 yay! Bf!"

thank you for your patience with this one <3

Perfect Subject

~Leon Kennedy x gender neutral! Reader~

Word count: 1931

Content warnings: shooting guns in a gun range, obsession, reader is a government agent, stalking, leon goes through your stuff and into your place without permission

!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!

Leon Kennedy could never just casually enjoy things. You would never find him just appreciating a thing for what it was and then moving on with his life. Oh no. If he thought a song was good, he would replay the melody over and over again until he didn’t like it anymore. If he liked a movie, instead of him thinking, “wow that was a good movie,” and then watching another, he would replay that movie until he knew every little detail about it. 

This included his work as well. Anything he did, it had to be done perfectly. He crossed all his T’s and dotted all his I’s. When you were first hired on as a government agent, he was assigned to overlook your training. There were specific agents assigned to training fresh recruits, so he wasn’t training you directly, but he would always cut in if he felt your trainer was going too easy on you or wasn’t teaching you properly. 

One day, you were practicing in the gun range and couldn’t seem to improve your accuracy no matter how much instruction your superior gave you. You huffed and threw your head back in frustration when you failed to hit the designated mark again. You were desperate to succeed and be good at your job. You couldn’t focus on anything else in your life. Everything you did, you had to do it well, otherwise it would eat you up inside.

That’s when you felt a strong form firmly press himself into your back, his arms wrapping around yours and guiding your hands to aim the gun properly. He used his heavy boots to kick your feet out into a better, more grounding stance. He slowly adjusts your shoulders and elbows and forces you to tighten your grip on the weapon. He stepped back from you and you felt stronger and more confident in this new position.

You fired the shot and hit the mark exactly in the center. You shook your shoulders, relieving some tension in your neck before getting back into the same position. You fired a second shot and hit the mark again. You spun around with a smile on your face ready to thank your trainer when you were met with pretty blue eyes and a blond fringe. 

You stammered over your words, “Oh, um, hey Agent Kennedy! I didn’t know you were here.” You shifted your gaze up to meet his eyes, “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” 

“It’s my job. Thought that would work for your height and stature,” he said simply before walking out of the room. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden emptiness of the room once his overwhelming presence was gone.

And from that point on, you had become obsessed with the man. You wanted to know everything there was to know about Leon Kennedy. Once you discovered he had an obsessive streak that matched yours so well, you knew you had to have him. His face had those soft features, but still had a prominent sense of rugged manliness to it. The messy look of his hair, which you could see the effort put into it to give it that carefree look while still being just the right amount of tidy. 

Don’t even start on the muscles protruding from his body. It’s like he had been sculpted from angels themselves. You could see the outline of every ab through his tight shirts and the way his arms bulged against the fabric of his sleeves. His aura demanded attention and he always commanded whatever room he was in, he didn’t even have to try. You noticed the way everyone else stared at him with admiration as well. You had no right to be jealous, but you were hooked and anything standing in your way would have to be eliminated.

You’d spent a lot of time trying to overhear gossip about the man’s love life, but he was so private that there wasn’t much actual information to go off of. Everything was pure speculation at this point. But what you did know was how many people had struck out with him. He wasn’t easily impressed by the flirtatious gestures, shyness or boldness. He was a case that no one had been able to crack, but you loved a good challenge.

While the other rookies threw themselves at Leon, you had to feign indifference. He genuinely cared about his job and the “greater good.” So you became the best agent you possibly could, rising through the ranks and becoming the perfect success story. You remained as elusive as possible with all of your coworkers. If Leon wanted to know anything about you, he’d have to do the research himself or ask you directly.

You were so relieved when your plan actually started to work. You could feel his stare on you when you weren’t paying attention to him. You never attempted to make small talk either. You discussed your work and would always thank him for any instruction or help he gave you, but that was it. 

A significant moment you remembered was at a mandatory reward dinner. Every single employee was expected to attend, no exceptions. Of course, you had made sure to be sat at the same table as Leon while putting on the front of not caring about the arrangements. You had both remained relatively silent during the conversations about everything and nothing at the same time going on amongst the group at your table. You’d speak and engage when called for, but avoided the small talk and gossiping as usual.

“What about you? No hot date either? What’s up with that?” one of your coworkers nudged your shoulder. You snickered as you took another sip of your wine.

“Quite a few of us at this table don’t have dates either. Maybe we should go around and share all about our personal love lives. John, Sarah, Patrick, Leon? Anybody want to share some misfortunes?” you said nonchalantly and were met with mostly silence, except for Leon who was grinning and trying not to laugh. “Oh wow, the elusive mysteries continue,” you cooed at John who was giving you a dirty look.

“Sorry, I forget you’d rather die than engage in a friendly conversation,” he spoke and huffed out a breath.

“It’d be wise of you to never forget it again, huh?” you nudged him like he had done to you earlier. He rolled his eyes before a laugh slipped from him. 

The following Monday, about an hour before it was time to head home, John pulled you to the side to talk to you.

“Hey, you’re not going to believe this,” he said excitedly.

“Oh?” you raised your eyebrow skeptically. 

He nodded his head eagerly, “Yeah! Leon fucking Kennedy was asking me about you. He wanted to know what I knew about you.” You had to hide your excitement as you continued to stare at John. “I should totally set the two of you up,” he laughed as he grabbed onto your shoulders and shook excitedly. 

You laughed at him, “Wow, agent turned matchmaker? I’m super impressed.” You pulled yourself from his grasp and went to turn and walk around the corner, escaping from the little space John had pulled you into.

You yelped when you ran into a solid object, or solid person rather. Your eyes looked up and came into contact with Leon’s. John came out after you and his eyes widened as he realized Leon was within earshot of the conversation.

John stuttered, “H-hey, buddy. What’s up?” His nervous laughter had you fighting back a smile.

“Buddy?” Leon asked as his arms crossed over his chest. John continued to fumble over his words. Somewhere in the word vomit, there had been an apology. You slipped out while they were both distracted and didn’t stick around to see how their conversation would play out. 

After that encounter, you and Leon had built a bit of a friendship. You two were always joking around and helping each other’s workload as much as you possibly could. You took advantage of every conversation you two had and utilized all the information and observations you had of him. You’d bring him coffee when he started giving his sleepy cues. You knew his favorite places to get lunch and would conveniently eat at them regularly, always ordering too much and giving him the leftovers. He never had to run his own errands around the office, because you always offered to do them for him. You never ran yours either, he always jumped up and did your little tasks as well. 

You noticed him also adjusting himself around your preferences as well. He slowly switched coffee shops to the one you preferred, attempting to keep you from noticing. But of course you noticed everything. You stopped being assigned the work you’d always complain about and tell him how you dreaded doing those meticulous little tasks. He’d drop little references from shows you’d told him you liked occasionally. Always feeding you information on top secret topics you’d shown interest in. 

You were so giddy when you noticed he had upped his game when it came to you. You started to notice things on your desk not being where you had left them. Logging onto your computer and the tab you’d left open not being up on the screen like you had left it. Your heart swooned when you noticed things in your apartment disappearing or being moved without your knowledge. You even noticed him tailing you on your errands, him in his unmarked car staying a reasonable distance as you went to the grocery store or to pay bills. 

You noticed the unmarked car in your apartment complex’s parking lot early one morning. So, of course you went outside and lounged on the balcony in your short shorts and tank top that barely covered your chest. Biting your lip, seemingly lost in thought as you drank coffee and scrolled on your phone.

He started placing himself in your path as well. One Saturday, he coincidentally ran into you at the supermarket and you walked around shopping together. He’d jog past your place, waiting for the day you’d be outside and he could recognize you. You let this go on for a few weeks, before finally deciding to get your mail from the office at the exact time he always jogged past. After talking to him for a few minutes, you invited him for some water and a snack. You spent the morning together, before he finally left to continue his run. 

So far, it’d been a few months of this back and forth. Running into each other, sharing lunches and coffee, spending more time working together, and you both suddenly were showing up to all work events. Neither of you ever rejected the offer to go out for drinks when invited by coworkers. You always stayed near one another, no matter the outing. You longed for the day something would finally happen between you two. You knew he was basically stalking you at this point and you made sure to make this job as easy as possible on him.

The longer the chase, the better the end result right? As long as you kept Leon right where you wanted him, you could keep this up forever. You imagined all of the ways he would finally make his move, finally bridge the gap between you two and mold you together where you belonged. Until then, you’d be his perfect and oblivious subject. 

~masterlist~

[trekmupf]

Kirk starring in The Pacifier 🧬🧒 💉

Pro

Love how McCoy hangs out on the bridge for no reason, again

McCoy, old timey architecture enthusiast

McCoy and Spock get to interact so much during this!

Kirk's way of dealing with the kids has such a range this episode – we go from softly and nicely interacting with Miri to literally yanking a child off a table after desperately yelling nonsense

Pointing out separately how Kirk is beat up by a bunch of children

Spock famously sniffing and almost nibbling the documents

Spock being helpless and having to deal with the possibility of his friends dying and him staying behind; also further insight in his unique position due to his heritage

McCoy also feeling helpless – and giving us insight into his character: being scared of succumbing to the illness and hurting others, trying to safe not only his friends but a bunch of children, the stress of the time constraint and him doing the logical thing in the end and testing the vaccine on himself as soon as Spock is out of sight so no one can stop him

Also him shouting for Spock immediately

Spock leaning over him is a great moment for all the shippers out there (me)

Also extra point for McCoy looking beautiful while lying unconsciously on the floor (a trend that picks up in S3)

the deterioration of sanity in the adults is actually terrifying and adds to the tension

the basic idea for the plot (a virus that kills adult and leaves a planet full of almost immortal children and stranding out characters there)

creepy atmosphere, especially in the beginning with the children's voices

Generally the tension early in the episode is held up by not knowing what's going on, then gains speed because we know exactly what's going on

great set design underlining the creepy narrative and feeling of being lost without help

Another narrative about the dangers of pursuing immortality / long-levity which ends up in great tragedy

Also This episode analysis by @trek-tracks is amazing. Major galaxy brain energy.(who doesn't love our boys suffering juuust a little bit more)

Con

The casting of Jahn is just. Not great. I know why they had to put in a „leader“ but he gets too much screentime, is everything I hate about children characters and he annoys me.

The children's group scenes are exhausting

The childrens "language", even though it makes sense and is technically a nice touch, gets old real fast

The combination of that makes parts of the episode feel almost silly (in a not good way) and are hard to watch

Even though it's sort of realistic considering Miri's narrative the jealousy plot with Yeoman Rand is unnecessary. It takes away time that could've been used to explore better themes in the episode and plays the only two female characters of the episode against each other

I wish Yeoman Rand would have more to do to do than "make Miri jealous and be scared"

after the episode takes a long time to get to certain points the ending feels very sudden

I know it looks like so many more Pro points but I love some of the characterwork, and the points that are bad are SO BAD.

Counter:

Kirk shirt-rip

One of the trio being ready to sacrifice himself (McCoy)

Quote: „And I do want to go back to the ship, captain“ - Spock Honorary: That Look Bones and Spock share when Kirk asks them to „simply create a vaccine“ Moment: McCoy being immediately ready to sacrifice himself and the dynamic surrounding that

Extra shot of beautiful McCoy with Spock gently holding his face

Previous Episode - Next Episode - All TOS Reviews

[kennahjune]

Flustered (But He’d Never Admit It)

Thanks so much to @rogueddie for letting me write this based on their post!!

( @steddiewithachance )

Desperately hope it lives up to standard 🫡

.

Eddie hadn’t planned on going out, really.

It was a Saturday and he looked forwards to sleeping until noon the next day. Maybe bothering Steve and Robin in Family Video at some point if he decided to grace the people of Hawkins with his presence.

But Nancy of all people had asked him to come. And when Big Wheels asked him to do something, Eddie sure as shit did it.

So he sat in the living room of Steve’s no-longer-really-scarily-empty house. Because Mr and Mrs. Harrington left after the earthquakes and gave the house to Steve. He’s been steadily personalizing it.

Eddie sat between Argyle and Robin on the couch, letting his gaze wander around and land on each photo hanging on the walls.

Nancy and Jonathan sat across from them on the other couch, Nancy’s feet thrown in Jonathan’s lap while he gently rubbed her calfs.

Eddie wasn’t listening too intently to the bickering going on around him, his mind in other places while waiting for Steve.

“HURRY THE FUCK UP, DINGUS!” Robin yelled. Speak of the Devil.

Eddie flinched, as Robin was directly in his fucking ear. He shot her a glare that she returned with a punch to the shoulder.

“HOLD YOUR HORSES, DIMWIT, IM DONE!” was what Steve yelled back from upstairs. Eddie and Argyle snorted at Robin’s offended gasp.

Steve appeared in the living room a few seconds later, struggling to tie his sneakers while hopping on one foot.

“You look like a worm,” Argyle pointed out helpfully.

Steve nearly face planted after he was done, his arms flailing and his hand catching on the back of Jonathan’s head.

“Ouch, dude!!” Jonathan yelled when Steve pulled his hair. Nancy and Robin absolutely cackled at Steve’s unapologetic shrug.

“My bad.”

Jonathan glared and rubbed the back of his head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Steve fluttered his eyelashes and put a hand on his chest. “You think I’m cute, Jonny? Why, you might as well get down on one knee!”

Robin clapped obnoxiously. “Congratulations on your engagement!”

Nancy gasped, pretending to clutch her pearls. “Jonathan! Another woman? How could you!?”

Jonathan groaned and threw his head back.

“See what you’re doing to this family, Jon!?” Eddie suddenly joined in, surprising a laugh out of everyone; even Jonathan, despite his efforts to remain angry-seeming.

Argyle whistled when they calmed down. “Damn, Stevie. Is that the shirt I got you?”

Robin perked up. “Hey! That’s my button up!”

Steve planted his hands on his hips. “And those are my earrings.”

Robin huffed and rolled her eyes, pretending to pout.

The outfit Steve wore was unlike what Eddie normally saw him in. The same blue jeans as always, though these ones seemed to hug his ass and thighs more (a detail Eddie most certainly saved for later). The button up (that was apparently Robin’s) was white pinstriped, hanging open and unbuttoned to show off the light purple, sleeveless turtle neck (that Argyle got him, apparently).

Eddie kinda wanted to bite him.

.

Jonathan and Steve were designated drivers. So everyone split between the two cars; Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle in one and Robin, Steve and Eddie in the other.

The bar they went to was a small one but was still packed on such a fine Saturday night. The group was quick to find a corner booth to seat all six of them.

Argyle payed for the first round of drinks, everyone just getting beer. But they were all quick to get to the vodka and other shit.

“You not gonna drink anything else, Stevie?” Eddie asked at one point when he noticed Steve was still nursing his first beer.

“Designated driver, remember?”

Eddie hummed and took his last shot, barely buzzed despite drinking so much already. “I could drive us back if you wanna just drink with everyone else.”

Steve eyed him and didn’t respond for a moment. Eddie was ready to take the offer back, play it off as a joke. It wasn’t even like he said anything flirty or whatever! Steve just made him nervous like that.

“Are you sure?” Steve finally asked, his voice timid even as he raised it to be heard over the music.

Eddie grinned. “‘Course, darlin. Lemme take care of it.”

Steve turned away and downed the rest of his beer quickly. Eddie turned back to Argyle and Nancy’s conversation and failed to see the deep red flush overtaking Steve’s ears.

.

That was maybe 20 minutes ago.

At this point in time, Steve was definitely passed buzzed and well on his way to drunk.

He was sandwiched between Eddie and Robin, his head leaning on Robin’s shoulder and his hand playing distractingly and absentmindedly with Eddie’s jacket sleeve.

Eddie tried to ignore how sweet Steve looked, his face flushed with the pleasant buzz and his hair kind of getting floppy because he kept playing with it. He looked so cute listening to Jonathan but still so spaced out and almost floaty.

Eddie kind of really maybe wanted to bite him. Maybe make him cry.

Jesus H Christ.

He took a big drink of his water. “I think I’m gonna head out for a smoke, be back in a few.” Eddie carefully removed his sleeve from Steve’s grasp, fighting off the cooing he so desperately wanted to do at the pout the other gave him for it.

Eddie left in no time, letting himself out into an alley next to the bar. His cigarette was short-lived and he went for another 2 after his first.

He refused to let his mind wander, instead focusing on the burn in his throat and the smoke in his lungs. He was sufficiently calmed down after an extra moment, finally going back in after what had to have been just shy of 10 minutes.

Maybe he should’ve stayed outside.

Because Steve was drunk now, to the point that Nancy had cut him off.

It was in that moment, walking back to the booth, that Eddie fully realized he’d never seen Steve drunk.

When Eddie came into sight of the table, Steve immediately jumped up in his seat and reached obnoxiously over the table to wave at him. It was adorably reminiscent of a 5 year old and a little puppy.

Eddie failed to keep the soft grin off his face. Not that he was really trying.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie greeted softly when sitting back down next to him.

“Hi, Ed!” Steve exclaimed loudly and excitedly, basically bouncing in place. Eddie really should’ve stayed outside.

“Steve’s a little drunk, don’t hold anything he may say or do against him.” Jonathan joked from across from them. Or, it seemed like a joke. His expression was playful but his tone was more serious than it let on.

“Oh? A little drunk? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so excited.” Eddie snickered.

“Hey!” Steve smacked at Eddie’s shoulder and immediately grabbed his arm afterwards, wrapping himself around it and holding on. Eddie felt himself grow hot under his shirt collar. “I’m always excited to see you, doofus.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. This was news to him. He shot a look to Jonathan who waved him off, turning to talk with Robin instead.

Eddie put his free hand over one of Steve’s. “Oh yeah, darlin? That’s news to me.”

Eddie watched in delight while a steady blush crept down Steve’s neck. He grinned dopily at Eddie, all teeth and gums and scrunched up nose. It was ridiculously endearing.

“Huuuuuussshhhh.” Steve pointed at him, his arm like a wobbly noodle and uncoordinated; he nearly smacked Eddie in the face. “‘Course ‘m always excited to see you. You’re you!”

Eddie stuck his tongue behind his bottom lip to avoid grinning like an idiot. Steve’s eyes followed.

“Alright, dork. I think it’s time to take you home.”

Steve squawked at being called a dork. Insisting Eddie was the biggest dork he’d ever met.

“You’re a Dork with a capital D!” Steve insisted while they weaved through the crowd. Eddie was taking Steve home early with Robin catching a ride with Jonathan.

Eddie snorted, holding back a comment on ‘capital D’ anything. He had a firm grip on Steve’s wrist, as his drunken friend got distracted at every little thing. After he ran off to talk to some stranger “because they had shiny earrings! I needed to know where they were from, Edd!” Eddie wasn’t taking any chances.

He had to physically buckle Steve up for him in the beemer, leaning over him and clicking it into place. Eddie chose to ignore the raging blush on Steve’s face in favor of a simple smirk.

Steve wouldn’t stop talking the entire ride and Eddie loved it.

“I really wanted to play volleyball as a kid but my dad refused because he thought it was too girly— and than I wanted to play hockey! And I would’ve if my mom wasn’t so adamant about it being too ‘aggressive’ and my dad just going along with it because he couldn’t care less either way— oh!! And then I played soccer for a little bit! Did you know Robin plays soccer? I think she used to be on the track team, too—“

Eddie couldn’t stop grinning. (He made a silent promise to ask Argyle about volleyball so he could play with Steve at some point.)

When he took the turn to Loch Nora Steve went quiet. A brief glance told Eddie he was staring out the window. He let him have another moment before speaking.

“You alright, Stevie?”

Steve’s response was delayed, his voice quieter than it has been all night. “Yeah, ‘m good.”

“You sure? You went awfully quiet over there, darling.” Eddie couldn’t stop the faintly concerned glance he shot to the side.

“Yeah.”

Eddie pulled over to the side of a fancy road, one side houses with huge yards and the other the trees spanning out into the woods. Steve jolted at the stop, glancing at Eddie’s faint reflection in the window.

Eddie twisted in his seat, reaching over to tap on Steve’s thigh to get his attention. When Steve looked over at Eddie he looked like a kicked puppy.

“Why’d ya stop?”

“Cause somethin’s wrong and you’re not explaining.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Sorry.”

Eddie smiled softly. “You don’t have to apologize, Stevie. I just need to know what’s wrong so I’m not sending you home while you’re in a bad place.”

Steve’s shoulders hiked up slightly. “Doesn’ matter.”

Eddie huffed, stopping his tapping on Steve’s thigh in favor of grabbing it gently. “Of course it does, sweetheart. If it’s affectin’ you this much it’s gotta matter a lot.”

Steve shrugged, trying to look away. Eddie let him, but kept his hand on his thigh and squeezed twice. Just to let him know he was there.

They were both silent for a moment. The two. Then—

“Don’t wanna.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Don’t wanna what?”

Steve response was slow, quiet. “Go home. Too quiet.”

Eddie’s breath left him in a quiet rush. Even if Steve was slowly making the Harrington estate more ‘him’, the memories it held would most likely prevent it from ever being ‘home’.

“You wanna go back to the trailer with me?” Eddie found himself asking.

Steve’s nod was hesitant, shaky like he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Eddie decided he was going to keep Steve at the trailer for as long as he can get away with this weekend.

“Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get goin then, yeah?” He patted Steve’s thigh twice and turned back to resume driving.

Steve remained quiet the rest of the drive, but he hummed along to the radio so Eddie deemed him a little better.

He parked on the side of the road, leaving the space next to the van open for Wayne’s truck when he got home in the morning.

Eddie had to help Steve up the porch stairs, letting him lean on his shoulder while fumbling with his keys. Steve was still humming to the last song that played on the radio.

Eddie gave Steve a pair of sweatpants and a shirt and silently praised himself for the flush settling down Steve’s neck. But then there was a flush settling down Eddie’s neck because Steve looked really good in his clothes.

They shared the bed like they usually did when they spent the night at each others places. Eddie took the spot by the wall and Steve climbed in to face the door. Eddie wrapped himself around Steve’s back with a hand on his waist and another under his head.

.

Did this take over a month? Nope. (Ssshhhhhhh)

I’m my defense: my biggest hyper fixation atm is ATLA 🤷

Am I happy with this? No, not really.

Am I posting it anyway? Sure am🧍.

Have fun with it ✌️

[elderwisp]

Director's Commentary !

Environment and Character Designs:

꩜ So in this scene, the backdrop is the sun setting so there are colors of orange and blues blending together! I like a lot of symbolism in colors and i've mentioned here how i resonate orange with taryn and blue with atlas. so throughout it felt like two personalities clashing a bit until the final shot of taryn, the background is a dark, stormy blue. this whole post is about choices and i felt that the blue solidified atlas's decision to not let taryn in. as for the character design, atlas has a white rabbit on his shirt as a little nod to his arc coming up as well as his nickname, bunny. another note is both taryn and atlas both have eyebags but each are for different reason. while taryn is a bit stressed out due to current events, atlas has been experiencing symptoms of withdrawals such as irritability, nausea and the most notable, lack of sleep.

Atlas's Decision

꩜ atlas has a lot of respect for taryn, so much so that he does not want to bring her along. while taryn has had a somewhat hopeful but naive view, atlas opens up about how getting better isn't linear. he's aware that his struggles with addiction won't be fixed by someone he cares about and it's not something he wants to put her through. when kai says taryn "isn’t enough to fill that hole in your chest" i think he misunderstood atlas but he's close. it's less of the fact that she isn't enough, atlas believes there's nothing to change about taryn, the issue is, atlas believes bringing taryn along could bring a harsh reality that might alter her. if atlas found himself responsible for harming another romantic interest, he would genuinely hate himself so it's much better to push taryn aside and give her an opportunity for something better (HOWEVER WISP COMMENT it's not his decision!). he also makes sure to remind her that she would have been more than enough for him as a final show of admiration. if only things were different.

Strike a Chord

꩜ sometimes the quietest person in the building can be the most perceptive, especially true for a person like taryn. throughout tessellate, she's struggled to put together who atlas is especially since atlas presented himself as who he thought taryn would like to see. however after some boundaries were set and things were communicated, atlas has slowly started to uncover himself going as far as taryn being the one person he doesn't lie to. so with a lot of truths coming out, this is the moment she speaks freely and reads him like a god damn book. the isolation is crippling, there's desperation to be seen and she could be the one but the fear of losing taryn is enough to solidify his decision. at least his own misery loves company... i'm curious what kind of company it'll bring. hmm.

Final notes!

꩜ i had a lot of fun writing this! conflict can be so difficult to write especially when it's characters you want to see succeed! but i think a lot of tessellate is built off of character development and growth as well as complex situations. while we won't be seeing these two together for a while, i think this final conversation was able to emulate something special. in relationships, there reaches a certain point where two people's mindset become unmovable objects and there is a set mentality that doesn't allow either parties to move forward. neither are wrong, both have valid reasons but to be able to break that down between two characters was so freaking cool!

[strwberri-milk]

Remember that tattoo artist Kaeya nsfw post you wrote a while back? Could I request a part 2 to that, where Kaeya finally gives reader their new tattoo, and they’re so pleased with it that they kiss him (read: make out with him)? Because as it turns out they’ve been crushing on Kaeya (and thirsting for him) as much as he has on them, only they’ve been really good at hiding it? Like a “it’s always the quiet ones” kind of way. Bonus points if there’s some nsfw included, though I’m not sure how you’d go about it, so feel free to go about it however you wish.

Extra bonus points: Rosaria’s just relieved that these two have stopped dancing around one another and she doesn’t have to deal with their thirsty asses pining after each other

Your tattoo ends up taking more a couple sessions than he initially thought. It's not entirely because of him getting distracted by you, more like the design he thought up was more intricate than he thought and since his little session with himself, he only found himself falling more and more in love with you.

You're finally at your last appointment with him, waiting patiently for him to do all of the little nitty gritty detail work and keeping quiet to stop distracting him. It didn't help, what with the camaraderie the two of you had begun developing over the time you were spending together.

You wanted to talk at him some more, tell him about your day, and ask him about his own but for now you'd be content with just feeling his fingers running over your skin even if through his gloves. You almost fell asleep with the persistent noise of the needle and his soft touch.

He lightly shakes you awake when he's finished, already having wiped off some of the excess ink and helping you out of the chair to show you the mirror. You knew he would do an amazing job but actually seeing it made you grin widely, turning to give him a hug and a kiss.

You immediately realise what you've done, staring at him as an apology starts to sit on your lips. You're not sure what to say to make this feel better, blinking at him and trying to back up when you suddenly feel yourself being pushed up against a counter.

You're breathless, hand winding into his hair as your hips lightly push against his. His eye meets yours, leaning in for yet another desperate kiss, his brain singing your praises for kissing him first. Whenever you draw back he follows after you, smiling as he presses yet another kiss to your lips.

"I've been wanting to do that since the day we met," he mutters against your lips, giving you another chaste kiss on your collar.

"Really?" you say shyly, knotting your free hand into his shirt as he nods.

"Of course. I've been wanting you for what feels like forever. I want to kiss you again."

Before you can tell him yes he's already back on you, lowly groaning your name into your mouth as his hands reach for your waist. He wants to fuck you right here, right now, but he knows he can't because he hasn't finished the aftercare for your tattoo yet.

Sadly, he tears himself away from you and seats you back in the chair, starting to finish up with your tattoo as though the front of his pants aren't insanely tight right now. You stay silent, not sure if you should try to broach the subject of what you're going to do now that you don't have an excuse to see each other regularly.

"When I'm done here you want to go for dinner? I can stop off at your place and you can wear something nice and we head over to this bar I like. How's that sound?"

Your look of shock makes him laugh, pressing a kiss to your hand.

"What? You think I'd just let you run off on me? Now come on, I'm all done here and with the money you just paid me for your tattoo I'm going to pay for our dinner."

You laugh at the statement, making Kaeya's heart flutter at the sound.

When the ding of the bell signifies the two of you leaving Rosaria finally breathes a sigh of relief. Now she doesn't have to listen to Keaya mope about your last appointment staring at him from his calendar. Hopefully, his joy about having a new partner will make him a little less insufferable.

[foreverformula1]

Chain Bear put the words I have been struggling to come out with quite gracefully.

It is one thing for drivers like Alonso and such to do this as they were born and little when Senna passed away, but it gets a tiny bit weird when drivers born 20+ years after his death do this. It feels “forced”. I don’t blame them for this, especially not individually. I am referring the broader aspect of it.

And surely I do not want the F1 community to forget about it! But the more time passes, the more this level of dedication gets weird. By “this level of dedication” I mean multiple drivers doing this almost every anniversary (or similar milestones of Senna).

I also want to add that although it is very much reasonable for companies and brands that once were affiliated with Senna to do this, it is…interesting when it’s a regular yearly thing to make projects to show respect to him. I indeed suspect that many brands in general (not just F1!) do some stuff to make it look like they have something going on for them, to look nice and respectful and I believe that some are genuinely wishing people a good Chinese lunar year and care about Bees, Earth, Friendship day etc or even I understand if they do these things “just because, but with a innocent nice thought behind”; but why would brands/people that have nothing to do with Chinese lunar year or Ramadan other than MAYBE affiliations with countries that believe in those make multiple posts, projects and products? Weather they sell merch/products with this concept or not, it feels first of all an excuse to “celebrate” and public display of “You see? We have things in our calendar, we are not a doormat company”, in this case of gratitude, sometimes it feels like a way to remind people that at least at some point, they had things going on within themselves, and they still can come back; I assume it’s maybe for the workers there, not just the public. Also to remind others of their own greatness and legacy. When products are involved it gets more obvious; they use the opportunity like a party+to release limited edition designs when they could do that any other day but they want to bank money from minimal red T-shirts for CLNY. Just to make the designers do something different (good for them) and showcase versatility. But no concrete belief or thought behind. -Assuming none o few of the people in the board don’t share the culture one bit and are just being nice. But you can be nice without making it your image for a week when don’t care that much deep down. That’s what performative means. Surely, it is different for individual people, but you get the message.

I don’t blame anyone one bit, especially it is the 25th (?) anniversary since he passed away. And it is public knowledge that the multiple of 5 are milestone years for ANY brand or person. So the emphasis this year is normal, especially considering the Netflix documentary about his story coming out soon.

I have been wondering this for at least the past 2 weeks: Would X person would want to be remembered to THIS length by individual people twice a year every single year? Because it’s kind of okay and “personal” if not every year.

In general, many public figures have been doing a lot of public over gratification. Especially the more famous the other person is. Sometimes they enhance it in the period in which the other person is getting “viral” again. Over gratification is a problem beyond late celebrities. I have been seeing it a lot in MANY ways. A lot of times pushed by the expectations of the public, seeing as the result in not publicly displaying it to them, results in nasty responses from them. This is a broader discourse for another time. But yes, in (I think) all of these many cases of different types of over gratification which has risen in the past 7 years, it feels performative. Even if they genuinely care, it always seems a bit performative for the public, to “humble” themselves. (Nowadays, people seem desperate for celebrities to get humbled-but once again, this is another long topic for another time on another blog).

An example in F1 which I can give though, is exchanging helmets. Probably some like it as it could be fun to keep a memory of the other with themselves but…If it were me, I would rather give away my trophies than helmet; helmet tell my history + I basically wore them + I wouldn’t care less of other people’s sweaty hats, I know that if I were a driver, I would customize my helmet each GP, therefore they would be collected in my home. The trophies can all stay to the team (not other drivers), except first and last and the aesthetically pleasing ones…returning to the original line of thought, maybe indeed because some drivers might not care, I would feel less confident to do this. They don’t care if they switch their own helmet for another, will they admire my helmet like I do and polish it every month or hide it somewhere because it is less important than their owns but more symbolic/pricy and delicate? Those are all theories. Take it with a grain of salt. But yes, helmet switching is a sign of mutual gratification. I wouldn’t do it but I am neutral-positive of the thought is there for drivers. Beautiful thought though, to whoever started this recently.