#and peach flavour of course

[foxmulderautism]

me 🤝 felix moran not immune to the sour cream and chives chips on sale

[woahajimes]

didn't realize that it was weird to eat cereal with yogurt?

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

A quick meal

cw: shameless smut, no use of y/n, female anatomy for reader, desk sex, dirty talk, slightly rough(-ish)? perhaps??

word count: 1,5k

eng is not my first language, please inform me if you spot any mistakes!

Viktor always knew it’s what inside that counts. And so he counted. Every rich moan escaping your mouth, every squelch of the fondly fingered pussy — it’s every prominence, fold and flexure, and, of course — exactly how much pressure you prefer on your clit. Well, at least that explanation was the only reasonably-appearing one to you, because how the hell did he know how to make you cream his fingers in coats of delicious stickiness in exactly few minutes, the stretch of them so qualitative your throbbing walls could easily accept his cock with little to no effort put into penetration. He must have used an ungodly amount of diligence to develop this specific technique just for you — his precious, lecherous sweetheart. Your whimpers are a devil on his shoulder, distracting him from being a stern, dispassionate about anything except for his research man. That little temptation invited him into the warmth of your precious core instead. It kept luring in, filling his genius mind with dreamy filth. Besides: it’s so much better to be buried within the tightness of your cunt than within the loneliness of his lab, untouched and craving you in his arms so desperately. No, he most certainly would prefer the first option.

“Relax,” sultry whisper teases your ear, while the free from fucking into you hand crawled up, preliminarily teasing the swell of each breast on its way to your throat — to be wrapped around it like a pretty collar, securely tight, not firm enough to actually hurt, but to rather keep you in place, adding to the thrill, to the longing.

He rarely fucks you like this. Viktor’s never been a huge fan of quickies — he’s a taster at heart, thorough and passionate — a sloppy kiss here, a teasing lick there — working you up even when it’s not needed anymore, for the sake of pure entertainment — more his than yours, to be completely honest, but he would never willingly admit to that.

He likes to savour you, like a fresh fruit one’s supposed to eat slowly — painfully so, even, memorising the flavour in explicit detail, letting it engrave into the taste receptors.

But there’s cyanide even in the finest peaches. Eat too many — and you’re incapable of consuming anything anymore, death plastered across your gourmand-face. It takes around fifteen peach pits to kill a curious starved soul, after all.

So tonight Viktor stays away from the cyanide. He’s had enough ravishing for now, turning a solid number of your previous intercourses into love-making. He’s eager, and he’s treating you like a quick meal — totally different from his usual ‘eat-you up-like-you’re-the main course’ demeanour. Not that you mind, of course. Dining hastily has its charms too.

“Keep your legs spread for me,” the gentle demand continues to sting your ear, and as much as you’d love to comply — you simply can’t, trembling knees doing you no favours, allowing no small mercies.

“Darling?” he repeats, the sharpness of his ‘r’ a scrumptious scratch to your brain, turning you into a mess — nearly irreparable, matching the one you’ve turned his desk into once he bent you over it, capturing tightly between his erection and the hard wooden edge, kindly depriving you off the worries about your clothes getting in the way. So thoughtful of him.

Rolled up skirt rests on your lower back, exposing the plumpness of soft hips — so grabable, they’re practically begging for his attention, but he’s reluctant to pull the long fingers out of you just yet. You’re clenching around them so perfectly, blessing him with the privilege of feeling your every twitch.

The presence of your underwear doesn’t concern you anymore — it’s wrapped around your ankles, pretty lace occasionally tickling the skin, reminding of the abrupt harshness Viktor’s sinewy hands had ripped them off you with. So brusque when it comes to fucking you from behind that a mere touch feels rougher than the deepest of thrusts. Your pussy might be able to take him without turning into a mess, but your sanity? You wish he’d left you some, just the tiniest bit to at least obey him easily.

But not all wishes were meant to be fulfilled.

You mewl something hopelessly illegible as your words drown in your own moan, lewd sounds of his fingers parting the swollen folds of an already spent cunt louder than your actual voice. And suddenly body language is not a figurative concept anymore.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” the kind threat encourages hoarsely. “Or should I spread them for you?”

You can only squeeze out a nod. Viktor releases your neck with a sympathetic chuckle, and a deft hand grabs at your left calf, helping a trembling leg to step out of the damp lingerie, leaving it completely forgotten and lonely on the floor. You’ll collect it later: if only the dirty-minded inventor lets you, of course. Which was highly doubtful, since tucking your undergarments into a pocket of his dresspants started to really grow on him lately. The possibility of obstaclessly fucking you over another surface once you’re in private again is too tempting to be pushed away so fast.

You fall on his desk, cold wood a tough pillow to your flushed cheek. However the loving hand stroking at your flesh doesn’t move to proceed with complaisant ministrations on your right limb. The buckle of his belt jingles, unfastening, negligently joining your underwear on the floor. You quirk an inquisitive eyebrow, putting a rather pathetic effort into propping yourself up, searching for an explanation to his movements. But a rough palm falls on your lower back with a thump, firmly pacifying, practically smacking.

“Don’t move, dear,” he hisses, pulling his fingers out of you right before you got the chance to cum all over them. Scarily rigorous again. And vicious. But you don’t say that. It’s not like you’re able to talk coherently anyway.

Something — which you suspect to be his foot — persistently forces your legs out of the way, sprawling you more for his hungry gaze. The toe of his shoe roughly kisses each one of your heels, spreading you open, just as he’d promised.

“How rude!” you exclaim, voice dripping with fake resentment.

“Rude?” he laughs, and the next thing you feel is a caring peck on a shoulder, the sweet heat of his breath back where it belongs — teasing the shell of your ear. “Well, please excuse me this one whim, but can you really blame me? Besides, I suppose my… barbarism happened to be quite efficient.”

His tip is pressed against your entrance, slowly working its way inside, brushing a puffy labia on its way. You’re sure it’s leaking with precum for you already — it might be impossible to feel through the lavish wetness seeping out of you, but you know Viktor good enough to be certain of pearly bitterish liquid breaking out of his slit.

You don’t lack his fingers anymore — not when you’re about to be so much more palpably filled, the thickness of his cock irreplaceable with any amount of his phalanxes. An unsolved mystery for both of you. The one leading you to an embarrassingly primitive statement — whatever it is so special about him keeps you coming back for more.

“There was no need to be so ill-mannered. I could have spread my legs just perfectly fine,” you mutter a shameless lie, already expecting a protest.

“And from my expertise you weren’t exactly competent,” Viktor mocks with a tortuously handsome smirk, and you make a fatal mistake of looking over your shoulder right when his narrow hips thrust into yours, his length splitting you with a delicious burn. It takes away the remnants of your stamina. “Because trust me, I can tell when one’s incapable of standing on their own feet — let alone moving properly. Coming from an adept, figuratively speaking.”

He bends lower, warm dry lips pressed to the glistening sweat on your temple. He doesn’t rush to have his way with you anymore, hand found peace on your chin, tilting up, gently forcing a thumb into the open mouth. You greet it with a needy bite, a wordless plea to convince him to finally start pounding into you, to satisfy the body lusting for his steady thrusts.

“You’re quivering,” Viktor notes with a pensive hum. “Shall I proceed? You look like you’re in more need of a cane than I am, my darling. So wobbly.”

The plea-bite on his thumb quickly turns into a menacing one. Canine pierces the skin, earning a muffled against the mess of your hair ‘ouch’, demanding the heartily craved resumption.

“Am I pinned like this forever or are you done with the fucking drollery?”

A sultry laugh caresses your ear, and the throbbing cock inside you slips almost all the way out, leaving you clenching purely around the bulging tip.

“Save the swearing,” utters the pretty tempter.

A rough roll of his hips into yours. Ass bounces off his pelvis, the slap of skin against skin loud and resonant, mingling with your desperate gasp just perfectly. Has you seeing numerous sparks, mouth drops open in a breathless ‘yes’.

“That vocabulary is only appropriate for an orgasm.”

[seobinghard]

pining ;

pairing: jongseob x fem!reader ✫ wc: 1k ✫ fluff, suggestive ✫ warnings: mentions of alcohol, cigarettes and drug use. reader is the same age as intak. intak mentioned ✫ synopsis: seob pines for you like a desperate pup.

♩: do or die (remix) - dpr cream

jongseob thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes upon. from the way you smile to the air of cool-headedness you exude with every breath you take to the way your body gently rocks to the rhythmic synth of the deafening edm hits—jongseob is enamoured. captured wholly by the intoxicating tuberose that bounces off your hair with every toss and turn of your pretty little head. your pretty little face that sets his heart in disarray with every eye contact you make from the crowded dance floor. eyes seemingly taunting his; an invitation?

“just fucking go up there and kiss her already,” intak slurs, downing a fifth shot of whatever blue liquor he just swallowed—curacao and tequila? gross.

jongseob smirks, staring longingly into the sea of bodies. “it’s not what you think.”

you're too perfect.

from his left, a giggly jiung leaps from the booth and makes a dash towards the dancefloor. soul joins him, but not before knocking over two bottles of half-drunken peach-flavoured soju off the table on his way out. this triggers a distressed yell from keeho. “hey, watch it—soul, come back! you’re drunk!” 

jongseob watches closely as his two friends join you and your girlfriend on the dancefloor, bodies bouncing to the electro-pop bass, your laughter merging as one with the music. crazy, he thinks, how much he wants to whisk you away right then and there and tell you how achingly tight his chest feels watching you dance the night away with another man who isn’t him. how fucking lightheaded your presence makes him feel. how much he wants you and only you. 

“i don’t understand why you can’t just go up to her and tell her how you feel,” keeho says, leaning back into the plush velvet of the booth that he paid five grand for in honour of theo’s birthday. “worst case scenario, she rejects you. that’s it. move on. life goes on.”

“word,” theo mutters. jongseob can’t tell if he’s serious or just high off his head.

“give me that.” keeho snatches jongseob’s drink from his hand. “go.” he motions him to the dancefloor. 

jongseob stares at the older man in disbelief, words caught in his throat. “i can’t—”

“yes, you fucking can,” intak blurts. “‘cause if you don’t, i’ll make her mine by the end of the night.” 

jongseob glares.

“what,” intak smirks, “you think you’re the only one?”

jongseob feels his stomach sink in rage. of course. how fucking gullible of him. you were friends with intak long before he introduced you to rest of the boys just over a year ago at a college fair. the first time he met you, he saw stars. not in your eyes but in the entirety of you. you glowed ever so mesmerisingly and even more so when you smiled and said ‘hi’. so soft, so faint—your voice. you smelled like the dawn in spring. it irked him how close you are with intak; it irked him even more that he’s younger than you. a part of him knows it’s stupid to factor in your age gap of two years, but a part of him can't help but feel he can never stand a chance for your hand, let alone your heart. not when intak is the competition.

jongseob gets up and leaves the table. he slides a hand in the back pocket of his jeans, fingers fumbling for his lighter and a cigarette but before he could pull neither out, a force knocks the air out of chest and he's eye to eye with you. your skin glistens in a thin layer of sweat, your white tank top hugs your body in just the right places, lacy bralette peaking out from the neckline.

"hey, pretty boy." a silly grin graces your lips, "come dance with me!"

you pull him into the crowd, your bodies moving along to the music but jongseob is quiet. his eyes stare into yours with a kind of intensity that makes you wither. and you would've if not for his arm around your waist, holding you upright. the harsh denim of his acid-wash baggy jeans brushes against your bare thighs with every sway of your hips as he slowly manoeuvres your bodies through the crowd and into a shadows of a quieter hallway where the heavy bass becomes distant echoes. the stinging coldness of his silver rings against your bare back sends ripples up your spine. under the glowering red lights, you spot his bridge piercing from beneath the blonde strands of his straight, tousled hair; two silver studs between his eyes, matching the one on his lower lip.

you force yourself to look away.

head hazy. you can't think. maybe it's the music, or the little line you did earlier with intak in the men's bathroom. but it can't be, he swore it's uncut.

"having fun, angel?" jongseob mutters against your ear, pulling your body to his.

maybe it's seob.

"hmm," you slur, smiling up at him, arms around his neck, "you miss me, seobie?"

jongseob shudders at your touch, eyes half-closing, addicted to the way his name rolls off your tongue ever so endearingly. so what if he does? so what if he's possessive. so what if he's crazy for wanting you all to himself. at least he's true. and god knows he'd kill for you. can intak?

you run your finger ever so gently along his lips, feeling the coldness of his lip piercing against your touch. the world around you fades into nothingness when seob leans down and kisses you. and kisses you. and kisses you. you finally give in to his touch as he drinks your moans like it's water, fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he deepens the kiss, pushing you roughly against the stone cold wall. skirt hiked up, hair a fucking mess. fuck, fuck, fuck. you really can't think now. seob smirks, lazily dragging his kiss along your jawline and down your neck. "say you don't love him," he murmurs lowly against your skin, breath hot and heavy against your neck. "say it."

you're puzzled, still drunk from his touch, "seob, i–"

"tell me i'm yours," seob reiterates, this time almost pleadingly, eyes pining and desperate as they probe yours for validation.

you connect your lips with his, basking in the scent of warm vetiver that clings to his skin; earthy and floral. your heart is his. "you're mine, baby boy."

[cheonstapes]

toji fushiguro stars in... 'PEACH GUMMY CANDY' ☆ ～('▽^人)

a/n ~ i was literally just eating these japanese peach gummies and i felt a sudden surge of inspiration, and i love toji so it was a match made in my tummy. this is a lil self indulgent cause i'm addicted to peaches and just needed an outlet to express that ( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ )

summary; toji never liked peaches. well, not until he met you.

wc; 400+

pairings; toji fushiguro x fem!reader

cw; SMUT!! toji being a hater, reader loving peaches, oral, dom!toji, sub!reader, fingering, squirtin, established relationship, he really loves you, peaches, peaches, peaches, peaches, 🍑, nawt proofread - just peaches

saying you liked peaches was an understatement. 

peach soap, peach perfume, peach shampoo, peach themed makeup, peach flavoured lip gloss, literal peaches. it was kinda overwhelming. toji hated peaches. he’s never had a sweet tooth, being the greek god he is - he refused to eat anything he deemed ‘too sweet’, and peaches were the highest on that list.

it irked you at first. the petty sneer that he’d pull whenever he sensed anything remotely peach related around him, he just couldn’t understand how you were so obsessed with the stupid fruits. but of course, toji could never resist spoiling his sweet baby. soon, you started seeing peachy little gifts all around the apartment.

the fridge stocked with peach tea, a basket of fresh peaches in the kitchen, cute peach slippers by your bed. you thought he had officially lost it. you weren’t complaining though, after seeing how happy you got with each gift they seemingly doubled in amount. 

he would never say it out loud, but toji was starting to like peaches. 

especially after he got a taste of your sweet cunt. he didn’t think it was possible but the sheer amount of peaches you consume made you taste even better than you already did. head between your thighs, stubble tickles your skin as he sucks on your clit - two rough fingers scissoring your tight hole. a fat glob of his spit trickles down your entrance, pooling under your ass as his tongue massages your insides.

“t-toji- fuuhck!”

he doesn’t respond. too focus on tasting as much of you as he could, shaking his head side to side as he makes out with your pretty pussy. his large hands grip your thighs open, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the skin, too gentle compared to the way he eats you out like a mad man. he can feel the way your legs quiver, cunt clenching rapidly on his tongue - your stomach tightening so good, locking eyes with your boyfriend as he looks up at you with smoky eyes from behind your mound.

he couldn’t stop, not even after you squirted that sweet juice all in his awaiting mouth, not after you begged so sweetly for him to slow down - hands weakly pushing his head away from your aching pussy. “move yer fuckin’ hands, baby. ‘s not my fault ya cunt’s all sweet, now let daddy enjoy his pretty girl’s pussy.” 

toji didn’t like peaches. but if peaches taste like your pussy? well, he fucking loves them.

-This one is for my one and only true love Princess Peach

Peach, you're so cool And with my star, we're gonna rule Peach, understand I'm gonna love you 'til the very end

Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches I love you, oh Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches I love you, oh

Mario, Luigi, and a Donkey Kong too A thousand troops of Koopas couldn't keep me from you Princess Peach, at the end of the line I'll make you mine, oh

Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches I love you, oh

Peaches, Peaches, Peach, Peach

[upsidedownwithsteve]

HELL YEAH BABY 🌤️

my request is grumpy!reader not liking summer because it's so hot, everybody is sweaty, bad sunburns, and thigh chafing from being forced out of wearing jeans due to the heat. maybe she overheats easily and can get irritated/snappy and starts to feel sick when she gets too hot

and, of course, sunshine!Steve (who is summer incarnate) doing everything to change her mind: taking care of her to try to help with the things she doesn't like, showing her fun things to do that make her comfortable, doing everything he can to make her at least a little bit happy that it's bright and sunny and warm, etc.

love you emmy you're so talented and your brain is so big and sexy ok bye

myo! summer steve for u 🧡

“Y’know, you’ll feel better if you get in.”

Steve was in the pool - his pool - the back yard quiet for once, empty of kids who liked to raid the freezer for popsicles and argue over the one sun lounger that didn’t have the dodgy wheel.

Your boyfriend was in the water, had been all morning, hair damp, skin slick, shoulders tanned and nose freckling. Steve was slumped over the pool edge, the sun making the ripples reflect off of his face, honey coloured eyes and last nights stubble. His lips were shiny, chlorine flavoured, chest smelling like sunscreen and the perfume you’d left on his bedsheets.

“I don’t wanna,” you lied. You were perched in the shade, lingering in the gloom of the patio awning with a frown on your face that was barely concealed by the sunglasses you’d stolen from the boy. “It’s too hot.”

You were borderline miserable and happy to wallow in it, the Indiana sun making your skin prickle under its heat, too hot for jeans, too uncomfortably sticky for anything that made your thighs touch. You sighed, mournful.

“Baby,” Steve was soft with the way he said it, a placating thing that you knew too well. If you looked over at him, you knew you’d find him pouting. He was. “The water’ll help cool you down, c’mon.” He extended a hand, dripping dots onto the tiles that dried too quick.

“There’s no shade in the pool,” you argued feebly, but you were up and walking towards him anyway, scowling when the patio had the audacity to burn your bare feet. “M’gonna die.”

Steve tutted, staving off a grin. “Dramatic,” he muttered, eyes on you as you played with the tie on your dress, staring at the blue water in consideration. “I won’t let you die, promise.”

You were still frowning.

Steve tried again, “c’mon, honey. I’m getting real lonely here. Come play.”

Maybe it was his words, maybe it was the way his biceps flexed when he lifted a hand to push back his hair, ropes of muscle down his forearms. Maybe it was just because the sun was so fucking hot.

You pulled off your dress, cotton catching on your damp skin, uncaring where it landed. Bikini already underneath, peach coloured and almost too small to be appropriate, you made your way to the stairs. Steve grinned, triumphant, treading water as he watched you walk around the pool edge. A low whistle, flirtatious enough that it made you warmer still.

“There she is,” he called out, salacious in his tone. He made his way towards you, meeting you by the steps, hands held out for you to wade into. “Can’t believe you were gonna try n’ hide all that from me. Traitor.”

The pool water was cool on your skin even if Steve was warm. Slick body, rough hands, hard muscle, soft skin; you let him manhandle you until you were wrapped around him, allowing him to carry you through the water without complaint.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, face buried in the crook of his neck, embarrassed by his flirting, even after all those years.

You weren’t frowning anymore.

[thepixelelf]

[get a taste] “What is that?” Soonyoung mumbles against your lips. He leans back slightly so he can look at your face, but not far enough to let go. “New lipbalm?”

You smile. “How did you know?”

Returning your smile with a dazzling one of his own, Soonyoung leans in for another quick peck. “I just do. You taste different.”

“Think you can guess the flavour?”

“I can try.” Soonyoung curls his lips into an exaggerated pout, almost touching them to his nose. He sniffs loudly, and you laugh. “Hmmmm... raspberry?”

“Nope.”

Even though he guessed incorrectly, Soonyoung smiles, and there’s this mischievous glint in his eyes. He kisses you again. “Peach?”

“Not peach.”

Another kiss.

“Coconut?”

“Getting colder.”

That doesn’t bother him. He kisses you again, this time for even longer to really get a taste, and it’s only your mingled laughter that ends the kiss.

“Hmm...” He smacks his lips. “Papaya.”

You tilt your head. “Are you just guessing wrong so you can kiss me more?”

Soonyoung’s hands travel up to your cheeks, cradling your face between them. “Of course not, my love. I have some integrity, you know?”

He leans in once more and moulds his lips to yours, then retreats and closes his eyes in thought.

“I’ve got it,” he says, opening his eyes with a smile. “Avocado.”

You snort and smack him on the shoulder. “It’s strawberry, you dork!”

[starry-eyesanddaydreams]

sharing dessert with sinclair? bc u know he really loves u if he shares his dessert with u 🥹

He is so Taurus coded, I love him! For this, I was going for something very cozy and domestic, on the spontaneous side. Hope you like it <3

Sugartime

Sinclair Bryant x Reader

You'd finished up work for the day in your home office and went looking for your husband. You found him in the living room, curled up in the armchair, garden catalogue in one hand and a donut in the other. The two of you were planning to redo part of the garden and had been working on plans for what you both wanted. You leant against the back of the chair, pressing a quick kiss against his fluffy blonde hair as you leant down to look over his shoulder. "Any thoughts?" you asked, knowing he probably had about fifty. "Foxgloves would look wonderful along the fence line." He answered, eyes still glued to the catalogue, "And classic climbing roses to cover the arbour." "That'd be beautiful." you agreed, looking at the photos of said plants on the page, "I like those pale peach roses." Sinclair hummed his agreement before taking a bit out of the donut in his hand. Immediately he let out a happy groan which made you giggle. "That good, is it?" You asked. after he swallowed the bit, he answered, "This is incredible. You have to try this, Darling." He said, shifting a bit to look up at you and held out the donut, "It's a new flavour, lemon cheesecake." You grinned at his enthusiasm and took a bite of the yellow glazed cream donut. You took a moment, enjoying the rich flavour, as well as the bright look on Sinclair's face. The look he always got when he was excited to share something with you. "That is delicious." you agreed, "Are there anymore?" Sinclair almost scoffed, "Oh course. There's a box in the kitchen." He hauled himself up out of the chair and handed you the catalogue, "Here, get comfy, I'll grab the rest of the donuts and some coffee for us and be back." You settled into the armchair, watching Sinclair disappear into the kitchen, thinking there'd never be any dessert as sweet as your husband.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for unknowingly finishing my sister’s ice cream by assuming she didn’t want it?

So my sister (17F), we’ll call her “Isabel”, is an extremely squeamish person and picky eater. Because of this she only eats super specific food products, to the point I honestly suspect some form of sensory issues at play. For this reason Isabel makes sure to remind me (17NB) and our mom not to finish her food because its for her and otherwise she has nothing to eat. Of course the same does not apply to her: she can finish any food i bought for me or been meaning to eat later. Tbh it’s upsetting but not such a huge deal I can’t function until the next grocery run.

For this week’s groceries we bought an ice cream pack with four fruit flavoured bars: two peach and two cherry. Isabel mentioned offhandedly months ago that she doesn’t care for the cherry flavour of this brand, so I just shouldn’t eat the peach flavour and i dis this ever since. The prev day was very taxing and tough for me, so i decided to eat something nice as an afternoon snack to make me feel better. When i opened the freezer i saw Isabel already finished the peach ice cream, so i assumed the cherry flavour was for me, as it has always been.

The next morning Isabel went to check the freezer for the ice cream. She was rightfully upset it was gone because she requested mom to get it for her. I tried to explain i assumed she didn’t want the ice cream and i though it was ok for me to eat it (to be fair she could have warned me and simply forgot about it: my memory isn’t always the best). I did feel a bit guilty about it and apologised immediately, but as per usual she wasn’t interested in having a good faith discussion with me. She was extremely aggressive: slamming the fridge closed, storming off, saying i “pissed her off so fucking much” and slammed the door of her bedroom with a bang (my mom was already out for work then btw). She’s always been the type to demand a heartfelt confession of guilt and atonement from me when wronged (“why are you not saying sorry) and simultaneously diminish any apologies offered (“and what am i going to do with your apology?”) so after that I didn’t bother.

I don’t like Isabel, it’s very much reciprocal and our relationship hasn’t been the best for years at this point. but i long since made up my mind that it’s unfair for me to deliberately antagonise her and be rude to her for no reason, so i try my best to remain calm and civil without raising my voice etc. when she’s in a bad mood to avoid a screaming match. I did snap at her when she started slamming things, saying that she was going to break something at this point and it would cost to get fixed, to which she replied “look who’s talking”, which felt like such a huge non sequitur as i sitting at the table eating.

I do feel a bit bad for eating her stuff unintentionally, and this whole issue /could/ have been avoided if i just left at least one bar of ice cream for her instead of eating two, but i still feel her reaction was excessive and unfair given she did the same to me other times and i never reacted to this scale. So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[rustyelias]

Alright tma tea headcanons!

- Martin Ktea Blackwood: he make great tea like tea that makes you think oh damn that’s a good cup of tea! But after he gets to know you this boy will know the blend of tea, how much milk, honey or maple syrup?, sugar?, sweeteners? He know this cup of tea will make you feel safe! Make you feel warm and comfy cozy!

-Jon archivist sims: yeah it’s tea nothing special plain old milk tea. But!!! If he likes you he will make you his homemade chai tea!! it is 100% his grandmas recipe. And it’s bloody good a bit bitter but nothing a bit of sugar and or sweeteners can’t fix

-Tea I mean Tim: it’s tea. BUT he will give you the most wicked sick funky mug you can imagine. This boy has a wacky mug collection prove me wrong!!!

-Sasha James <3: again basic tea nothing special but she will pick out a nice biscuit selection for you

-not Sasha: :) “of course I can make you some tea”

-Melanie: this girl can not make a good cup of tea. she drinks nothing but sparkling water (flavoured maybe like peach or elderflower) and energy drinks and we love her for it

-basira: she worked in a police station of course she can make tea

-Daisy🐺: makes you a coffee Instead and says nothing

-Georgie <33: banging tea! She also has a lot of sleep herbal tea and all of her teacups have cats on them

-Elias sexy eye guy wait what who said that…Bouchard : “Martin makes us some tea if you don’t mind” (this bitch would not make anyone tea!) or “tea? Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got wine or scotch?” if he likes you

- Graham Folger aka the one guy from mag 003 who eats notebooks: sugary tea!!

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

saw you talking about tea the other day and now i'm intrigued 👀 any flavors you're particularly fond of? asking for a friend also. please do ramble about it bc it's delightful :D

Jay! Hi! Fellow tea lover?

Hm… I love lots of teas, but really I prefer simple teas to anything super decadent or elaborate. I don’t ever add anything to my teas unless I’m sick (then I’ll add a bit of honey).

My go-to is just a simple green or peppermint tea, though I’m also a huge fan of spiced chai and earl grey. I adore jasmine tea - jasmine is probably my favourite, but it has to be a good jasmine, so I don’t have it all the time (again, it gets expensive). I always have some green or peppermint tea on hand though - a quality cup is always nice but I don’t as much mind if these are the cheaper kind.

I’m not a huge fruit tea person, though I did have a peach white tea once - that one was lovely cold - and of course a good lemon ginger is always nice. If I’m having bubble tea though, I always go for a mango or lychee green tea if they have it!

I have to say that I can’t remember what pu’erh tea was like - I know it was interesting and I liked it, but I’d need to try it again I think to recall it properly. I haven’t found a rooibos tea I’ve been particularly crazy about, but it’s nice too, just not what I’d gravitate towards.

If you want a sweet or dessert type tea, then any oolong is great, but I think I’m spoiled for that wuyi oolong now hahaha. I’ve had a vanilla black tea - it’s really good. I’d highly recommend that one. I also have this sweet apple-cinnamon tea with nuts. I don’t have it super often, as I’m not a fan of sugary teas but this one is a nice dessert on its own. It’s very nutty which makes it pretty unique.

When I’m sick, I’ve had a couple good teas. One I have for colds is a eucalyptus-mint. I recommend having this one only when you are very congested because boy is it strong. Tastes amazing though. Also my mom had several Korean friends when I was little, so I have fond memories of her making yujacha at their urging when I wasn’t feeling well as a young kid, and boricha for us to put in the fridge and drink cold. I love both.

I don’t usually have chamomile at home, but this is largely because on days when I’m really incredibly stressed (like, shaking with anxiety, actively spiralling, kind of stressed), I like to go for a walk in the evening and pick up a chamomile from a nearby café to take back with me. It’s an indulgence that way.

Other cool teas I have tried:

Butterfly pea flower tea: More of a novelty than anything but this tea is bright blue and changes to red when you add citric acid. It’s a natural pH indicator!

Lavender black tea: Incredibly good. This was another gift from my mom a few years back. Very nice in the evening.

Mushroom tea: These tend to be incredibly overpriced due to purported health benefits so I’ve only ever had samples but honestly? The ones I’ve had are very nice, a smooth, rich flavour. Not convinced they’re worth that price though.

Dandelion tea: People say this can be used as a coffee substitute. I’m not entirely sure I agree with that but it does have a dark roasted flavour that is similar to black coffee. It’s a little sweet though. I like this one a lot, but I only have this with food because if I don’t have anything in my stomach it makes me cramp a bit (as I found out the hard way) :/

Matcha green tea with roasted rice: Okay a friend of mine got me some of this as a gift when she went back to visit family for a bit and. Um. This tea is so incredibly good. We had some together and it was fantastic. I’ve been saving it and only having it at times I know I can really savour it because I want it to last. If you can find some good quality stuff I highly recommend it.

Aaaand sometimes, admittedly, I will enjoy an orange pekoe. It’s nice on occasion. I make it pretty strong hehe

I hope this was fun for you your friend! 😆

What are your favourite teas, Jay?

[oceanlipgloss]

LIPSTICK

SATAN.

+ warnings: strong language, suggestive themes.

+ female mc, feminine pronouns.

It’s said to be an art, choosing the right shade of lipstick. Perhaps it is so!

Think about it this way, now; paint—the palette painters create, to be precise—it does not matter much once it is smeared across a canvas, for a canvas is normally white (like ghosts and lightning, leeched sugar and whipping cream), and there is not one colour, be it shade or hue, that such a white fails to suit, though it will not always look good. With lipstick, however, the matter differs.

Of course, a painter does very much choose the most proper canvas for their creation, but that is only in terms of material and dimension. Similarly, it’s probably important for a woman to not merely choose the prettiest colours for her lips, but also the greatest matches for the smooth skin of her interest, who in this case is not quite her lover yet, and may never really be.

Who could possibly know how destiny is painted? Whoever can guess which swatches shall make the future up?

Back to the subject: it is pivotal to decide on a lipstick’s colour for the...aesthetic, if you will. Sometimes, you must understand, the lovelier a sight is, the more sensual it becomes. Beauty, when the time is right and the person is, too, can be an exciting thing. A dangerously exciting thing.

That was not strange advice, she thought. There were times when those erotic magazines and adult films of hers made as equal sense as science. This was one of them.

Her lips had stamped each soft muscle. His body was a hued mess. It was as though one had given a curious child dissimilar paints and a chalk-white paper to print their imagination on with no regard for the basics of art. A child would not know about those rules. At the same time, she was not an artist in the traditional meaning of that shimmering word, so she did not know anything about art’s foundations, either. Yet, she did know how to make the colourful garble on this man’s figure look like art, if only by rubbing her wine-red lips against the peach stain of a kiss to blend the two colours together. What would the result look like?

She could be impatient and quick-paced, in the hot moments often forgetting the artistic aspects and details, vivid with flowing rage, but she was still that sort of artist.

How surprising that she could even manage to know what to do next, at the minute!

The Devil was dreamily handsome. Lipstick gemmed the corner of his lips. His eyes were the colour of strawberries or hearts. His pale skin and purple veins were smudged with a range of popping colours. Some were matte, others glittered. Red Delicious. Tangy Tangerine. Raspberry Dream. Glam Brown. Burgundy Velvet. Electric Violet. Black Decay.

Her favourite? It had to be the last one. Black Decay. Pale skin, dark lipstick. The contrast! The impact! It looked stunning. And goodness, it made it seem like his wet horns had somehow melted at the red tips, mixed into the Red Delicious kisses, and dripped blackly onto his tense muscles. It was so cool.

Standing in front of mirrors again. Playing with fire is fun. Fun is never-ending. Beauty doesn’t last forever. Souls don’t necessarily go to Hell or Heaven. Humans are bound to die. Some people never find a haven. But this man, this man was the Devil. That changed everything; looks are forever, youth is eternal, the heart beats for ever and ever. So, what the fuck is death? What does time mean, then?

Immortality gives time a different flavour, kind of like how certain lipsticks taste nothing alike: one is ‘cherry,’ the second is ‘candy,’ and the third is something else entirely. Maybe ‘chocolate’? Who knows.

Anyways, it’s all very addictive. Being young. The electric sparks of attraction. Admiring a beautiful face. Worshipping a sculpted body. Burning in the fires of desire. Bloody rage.

It can be very pretty, put together in one painterly picture: a horned devil, a beautiful young king, dotted all over with the kisses of a human on her knees before him. The throb of bruises, the pulse of scratches, they aroused him. Because her anger tasted like it spread out from the purest depths of Hell. It was what a dream would taste like, feel like, be. It was what a dream would be.

His eyes were glowing a frantic red, a red redder than those hell flames from fiction’s silly little tales. The petrine crosses, they were like ink on a heart. That rage inside her, it was heroin and honey in his veins. He could not have enough of it. He wanted more. Double the dose. It boiled his blood and made his heartbeats insane!

Fuck, oh, fuck. The kisses weren’t cutting it. The pretty marks on his skin wasn’t cutting it. The colours weren’t cutting it. He wanted her breakable fingers to push his flesh in, turn him purple and blue, make him bruise. He wanted those dainty nails to dig into his skin, carve into it tiny bloody crescent moons. He wanted that delicate palm to scar his face, let it sting like a crimson wound.

It will, it will, it will, it will.

He could be a freak like that, but so what? He was sweet, too. She wasn’t sweet, but she could be his match. She was. So often their hearts and bodies played on the same frequencies. Down for a helping hand. Down for murder. Down for anger. Down for roughness. Down for Hell. Down for sex.

So, you see, ladies and gentlemen, the right colour of lipstick may very well do wonders.  

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[unreconstructedfangirl]

Get to know you - tag game

@honeyvanity tagged me in this - thank you <3!

Last song you listened to: K.D Lang singing Joni Mitchell's A Case of You. I have an eternal crush on K.D. Lang that will never end. I would, humbly and with respect, like to drink a case of her.

Favourite colour: I have two -- the bright sunshot green of new leaves in spring, and the deep teal of the submerged parts of icebergs.

Currently watching: Succession. But, I think I kind of hate it. At least, I hate everyone in it. I was hoping to develop some sympathy for someone (anyone!) in the story, but I really, really have not. They are all just straight up assholes and I am amazed by how much they resist any form of sympathy. Like, sometimes you think...oh, ok, maybe I'm starting to feel it, and then they open their bitch mouths to say another thing and I'm like...oh. Nope.

Also, I am still stuck in an endless Supernatural rewatch loop, no sign of imminent escape. I love Supernatural. It is weirdly comforting.

And also, Interview with the Vampire, which is bananas and awesome. A+ for everyone involved.

Favourite flavour: Right this minute? Summer peaches, which have been a religious experience this year, iced coffee with milk and no sugar, and also, anything that is pickled. I have never met the pickled thing I did not like. It might be out there, but so far I love all the pickled things, especially walnuts and ginger.

Current obsession: I have two: Poetry (right now by Diane Seuss and Mary Ruefle), and Supernatural, which has deep fucking hooks.

Last thing I googled: "CNB exchange rate" and "Cambridge DELTA bookings". Yes. Exciting, I know. Work, innit.

Favourite season: Spring and autumn are tied. I love them both equally for the thrill of their changing.

Skill I’d like to learn: Fluency in Czech, more methods of bookbinding, and more reliably writing poetry that I feel a bit proud of having produced.

Best Advice: Follow your loves, and be open to wonder. Let your loves guide you, and don't be ashamed of them. Let wonder in. There is not enough time in life to do anything else.

I am tagging @pleaseraisemefromperdition, @luckshiptoshore, @keziahrainalso, @aprillikesthings, @greywrenn, and @mythopoetry , and anyone else who wants to be tagged. And of course it goes without saying that if you would have preferred NOT to have been tagged, please ignore this with my blessings!

[hacked-by-jake]

I was tagged by @satveek some time ago, thank you so much, I really appreciate it. 💚

three ships: Jake and MC. V and Evey. Joker and Harley

first ship: uhh, that's hard. I guess Rose (Huntsgirls) and Jake Long (Series: American Dragon). Or Cornelius Fillmore and Ingrid Third (Series: Fillmore). It already started as kid xD

last song: Cirice - Ghost

currently reading: The Chemistry of Death - Simon Beckett

last film: Marvels Civil War (heh)

currently watching: Crime documentary - The case of Emanuela Orlandi

currently consuming: Cold Tea flavoured Peach Ice Tea

currently craving: Sleep and more Ice Tea ^^ And my bed.

Tagging: Of course, no pressure, only do it if you want to 💚 @julesisreading @itsnotzka @anabellerose96 @fem-moony @cassi0-peia @miss-celestia13 @lyon-amore @angie-01040 @rw47vr-key @mirajanemoonvale @hackerqueen @giu-world @kyras-things

[pray4saint]

hiii! can i get a tall latte with a dash of cinnamon and a donut? 🍩💖

fluffy conversations & nonsense arguments with sapnap

masterlist & descrip. pg. 13+. fluff.

a/n. ofc arissa, my favourite repeat reader 🙄🫶🏽

prompts. ”okay, mom.” / ”what are you doing?” / ”i don't deserve you.”

when you're shopping for snacks for a movie night..

you walk in front of your boyfriend, pacing faster than him. he's got a basket in hand currently filled with ice cream and energy drinks and sodas and your favourite candies. also popcorn, of course, it's movie night after all.

you stop in front of the cookies section, eyes scanning the shelves up and down. sapnap stops just behind you and sets the basket down on the ground. ”you know, the originals are always the best.” you smile at his words. ”yeah but, sometimes..” you reach for a different flavour of your favourite cookie brand. ”sometimes i crave something a little different.”

when you're getting ready to leave for a walk..

the weather had turned, but sapnap was still determined to get out of the house with you, even if it was just for a short walk outside.

you checked your phone after you'd gotten your shoes on while your boyfriend reached for a jacket.

”babe, bring an extra jacket, it's cold outside.” he looked at you and tilted his head, before reaching for another jacket. ”okay, mom.” you let your jaw fall slack at his words and you let out a gasp. ”i hope the cold air makes you horribly sick.” sap burst out laughing as he turned the door handle, motioning you out ahead of him.

when you're both sick..

despite the fact that both you and your boyfriend felt like shit, you still insisted on taking care of everything. the only help you accepted from dream or george was socialisation and taking things to sapnap from where ever you'd prepared them.

this time, neither of sapnap's roommates were home and it was your job to bring him soup. the steam rising from the bowl made you sniffle, your sinuses weren't clearing up and after all the vix you'd used you really hoped they would've cleared. ”you know you don't have to do this f'me, right?” he hesitantly takes the bowl from you and sets it in his lap, phone tossed to the side.

”yeah i know, but i enjoy helping you.” you give him a lopsided smile, and you start to feel an oncoming sneeze so you turn away, face in your arm. achoo! the warmth of your boyfriend's hand on your back makes you turn back to him, face dusted pink all over, a sign of your cold. ”i don't deserve you peach.”

”yes you do, now eat the soup, i'm going to run a bath for myself, you're welcome to join when you're done sicky.” he smiles at you, and then he runs into a coughing fit. ”i'll grab you cough drops and make more tea first.”

when you first tried cooking in his home..

sapnap figured it was just clay cooking at first, so he didn't get up from his spot in his bed. he knew you were over, but you'd only told him you were hungry and then you got up. when he looked up from his phone to see clay standing in the doorway, he was surprised. ”what are you making?” he'd asked before clay could say anything. ”what? i'm not cooking anything.”

”then who's–” clay shrugged, and the together the pair left his room, heading for the kitchen. it would've been strange for george to be cooking. he never cooked.

the only thing stranger than seeing george cooking was the sight before your boyfriend and his roommate. you were humming along to some random tune, kind of swaying around the kitchen as you moved, mixing ingredients into bowls and moving things into the sink and the oven. ”hey peach. what're you doin'?” you froze in your tracks. you turned to look at sap and clay. ”uh, just thought i'd make a little somethin'.” you sounded so nonchalant but the mess around you was anything but. ”y/n uh-” clay scratched at the back of his neck. ”darlin' this doesn't look like a little something.” you looked around the kitchen and laughed. ”i guess you're right.”

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.

[lenievi]

spones - older fics recs

seeing that people are interested in older fics, let me link some more that are not on ao3 but on personal websites (sometimes the formatting is a bit... you’d better just copy it into some text editor in order to read it comfortably) and that were written prior to 2010, but mostly in early 2000s. It’s not all of them (of course), I’m just linking those I at some point in the past three years enjoyed and that are long-ish. They can be a bit dated and sometimes a bit weird. Most of them are mature to explicit. If you want more warnings, you can message me.

Diagnosis and Treatment of Ply's Disease (explicit-ish at the end) - it deals with a disease, obviously, so proceed with caution if it isn’t something you want to read. Mention of McCoy/OC(m)

The Prayer of St. Francis (E) - I haven’t actually read this one, but one day I want to. The summary is “the triumvirate as we know them”, but it’s spones flavoured. And it’s spones who are bonded. It spans the series up to Spock’s death.

The author’s page in case you wanna read other fics by them.

Nets in the Wind - mirror!spones, has Sybok, set after Spock kills Kirk, in case you mind. It’s a bit open ended.

The World Bewitched - mirror!spones, interesting world building imho

The Other One (E) - “After the encounter with the Mirror universe, both men have some problems they have to deal with.” (I actually don’t remember this one, but I have it saved... but don’t judge me if it’s weird; read the author’s notes) sequel Sugar Magnolia. These were written in 1998.

On Vulcan genomic engineering and love - this one though is a bit weird (proceed with an open mind), but the premise is quite interesting - McCoy becomes a half-Vulcan (I think this was actually the only fic I’ve read with that theme). “Spock has wanted for a long time to become fully Vulcan and finally devices a formula to allow him to manipulate his genetic structure to do just that. But in a freak accident, he injects McCoy with the formula, causing the Doctor to become half-Vulcan. Now with pon farr on Spock's heels, he must help the doctor learn to deal with his Vulcan half, while the two of them both try to live with their feelings for each other.” some hints at McCoy/Vulcan OC(m)

My Little Town - takes place after TUC, I’m personally very fond of this one for some reason. It has a completely different background for McCoy than what’s common. “McCoy’s mother just died, and McCoy goes to deal with the house. Spock tags along.” McCoy’s parents had a huge age gap, so if you’re bothered by it, maybe don’t read it.

stories by Tempest - Blackbird has trans!McCoy, Yon t'Ashaya - McCoy and Spock both serve on a Vulcan ship, Spock goes into pon farr [these two fics are what stuck with me after reading them three years ago, but the author has a lot more]

now you can also go through this list, but a lot of the links are broken, some can be accessed through wayback machine, some can’t.

and then you can also look through the Spiced Peaches list, which has fics from 2005 and up. Just in case you’ve never heard of the online spones zine.

---

also a bonus tos!mirror!mckirk because why not. It’s a wip, unfortunately, but it’s still worth it because it’s tos!mckirk~ And like most other mirror verse fics on this list, it isn’t as dark as what’s written these days. It’s actually pretty tame. It’s by the same author as The World Bewitched and Nets in the Wind above.

The Getting or the Having & Dust - “In the Mirror-Universe Kirk finds out that his counterpart has a sexual relationship with McCoy. This makes him thinking things over.”