#and peach flavour of course

[foxmulderautism]

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

[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.”

[simplyzeeka]

Sweet Confections

A/n: this was actually the first thing I wrote for Terry that never saw the publics eyes. I remember I saw this writing prompt on tiktok that had one word only "sweet", initially I though, 'why not try to write sosmething'

And voila, it isn't long... just a little drabble.

Words: 600+

Summary: In which Terry finds his woman in every confection.

Warnings: MDNI!!, Mentions of sexual conduct. Short

Terry always had a knack of sweet confections. Anything that kept his tongue in his mouth and away from places that would help relieve a never-dying itch.

Usually he preferred anything with honey. Honey joy cheesecake, honeycomb cookies, Russian honey cake. Anything that tastes the slightest bit like Sierra's Marc Jacobs perfume.

Terry always made sure he helped himself to a lick on her neck (which often turned into hickies) when he was balls deep inside of her, digging out his favourite honey that leaked out from deep inside of her.

Then there was chocolate. The candy really went with anything honestly. He always appreciated the versatility of the rich confectionery.

It reminded him of just how quick Sierra could switch shit up. Sometimes she was good, giving Terry all she could of herself with her leg propped on the dinner table and another planted firmly on the ground. Terry taking her from behind in reckless abandon. The sound of the table scraped on the floor and their skin clapping only added to how much she soothed Terry's cravings.

Vanilla came close to chocolate. Just as versatile, but soft and serene. While the essence was used in many confections, vanilla was always what soothed a less carnal side of Terry.

Like how he tended to smell more like Sierra's vanilla candles more than his own cologne. Or the little trick she does in dabbing some vanilla essence on her skin when she wants a smoother scent on her skin.

Sometimes even the times Terry spent helping her bake her famous tiramisu cake, which always had more vanilla than tiramisu that Terry never cared to comment on.

Passion fruit isn't Terry's all time favourite, but Sierra finds a way to leave the tropical taste in his mouth and make him enjoy it.

She always tended to end a night out with her famous passion fruit martini. Although Terry swore he never liked the taste of the pulp-filled fruit. He swore with the same mouth that Sierra inhabited the taste of anything she drank or ate for a while.

Terry learned to love the taste of the tropical paradise that laid slick and leaking with pulp and reconsideration between Sierra’s thighs. Perhaps, with more practice, he could grow fonder of the fruit, especially if Sierra came mixed with it.

Peaches were often an undermined fruit, but not to Terry. Of course this statement came with bias.

While usually, the fruit reminded him of the days spent at crowded cookouts since marrying Sierra. Where her mother often baked a few batches of peach cobbler for each of their guests and a little extra. Terry made it his duty to always cop himself a few extra slices to take back home.

But the fruit also reminded him of Sierra's fragile routine of layering her perfume. Cocoa butter body cream, vanilla perfume and peaches & cream perfume oil, in that order specifically.

When Sierra used that combo, it happened very rarely that she left the house without having to take another shower. Courtesy of Terry eating and sweating her out.

Sierra loved cherry flavoured liquorice, she always made sure she was stocked up when grocery shopping, would fight tooth and nail to make sure there were at least one full jar of the stringy candy.

Her love for the flavoured candy came from her love of the fruit. As much as there was always cherry liquorice in the kitchen, best believe there would be just as many cherries in the fridge.

Everytime she went to visit her grandmother in the countryside with Terry, they would pick a few cherries everyday to snack on, before returning to their daily farming chores.

The sunny days would always be filled with joyous laughter and never-ending affection. Terry loved nothing more than watching the way the wedding band that rested on Sierra's finger glimmered in the sunlight, the rock being a reminder that he's had the honour to call such a woman his wife.

Every taste reminded Terry of her. In every food he saw a bit of Sierra. Which, ironically, did nothing to help keep his tongue in his mouth, but that has never been the goal regardless

A/n: Like I said. Short and sweet... pun intended, lol. Can't believe I forgot all about this works. I might incorporate some of these into different fanfiction since I live playing with senses in my writing.

Taglist:

@blyffe @peachbutterfly-blog @browngirldominion @blackmoonchilee @megamindsecretlair @mogul93 @earthchica @nayaesworld @cdotmvkspaz @zillasvilla

[laswells-ashtray]

First time here and already love your writing(choosing to remain anonymous simply because I can’t bear to ask you this bare faced).

But!, Sergeant Price being a bashful, sassy prick to Nikolai.

I just read the ask about Price and Mac hating each other and loved the ending, but I feel like John, in all his complexities, would be so difficult to learn for Nikolai simply because the man hates putting himself in a vulnerable spot, especially when it comes to a love interest, so in order to combat that vulnerability he’d be the most prickish little shit Nikolai has ever met(which the Russian finds endearing).

John makes it his personal mission to put an end to any interest that Nikolai might have in him by being a cunt.

Nikolai makes it his personal mission to convince John to try peach-flavoured lube, he is not deterred.

Mac absolutely does not help the situation, he is actively trying to get those two together so he can stop hearing about John's fucking pining. That and he wants the lad to be happy, no crime there.

"Nik, piss off. 'm fine."

The Russian does not piss off, in fact, the grumbling only encourages him more as he holds a cloth to John's face as it bleeds. It's nothing, really. He got lamped by some cunt with a ring and his face is bleeding just above the eyebrow and Nikolai just won't leave him be.

Nikolai smirks as John squirms under his grip, the Russian has a hand on his jaw holding his head in place as he tries to staunch the bleeding.

"Lad, there's blood in yer eye. Let him fucking help ye, ya fuckin weapon."

And of course, Mac had to be here to fucking see it. He couldn't just wallow in peace, they all had to nose him with blood pouring down his face like fucking tit.

It's fine, he'll push away the Russian like he does with everyone. Except Mac, that cunt just won't fucking leave.

"You aren't going home for the holidays?" Nikolai sounds somewhere between genuinely curious and nervous.

He grunts in response, standing in the hangar with his arms crossed as he watches the Russian look over a heli. He could be doing other things but there was nothing time-consuming so he could give himself a break. he'd earned it.

"Why not?"

His tone is so gentle it almost irritates John, he isn't a stray cat that will scratch and hiss if he isn't approached with care. He's a grown man with idiosyncrasies and he has every right not to go home if he doesn't feel like it. He just has to find a home not to return to first.

"Old man's in the ground." He answers bluntly. and God bless that.

The other man's answer has John trying to school his expressions into the token blank face he usually uses in conversation with everyone else. "That appears to be a good thing."

He doesn't answer, the look on Nikolai's face tells him that he doesn't need to.

Nikolai is concussed. He has to be given that he's been staring at John like a lovesick puppy for the past ten minutes. That and immediately after stepping out of his bird he'd spewed and about fell on his arse. John is no more worried than he would be for anyone else.

"You gonna sit still or am I gonna have to tie you down?"

Mac had sent them both to his office, turned out the lights and told them to stay there because Nikolai had lasted all of three minutes getting checked by a medic before he was muttering in Russian and trying to push their hands off of him. John couldn't blame him there.

"That an offer, sergeant?"

For fuck sake.

"It's an order. muppet."

Nikolai has no right to look so fucking fond.

He wants to desperately be annoyed, he doesn't need anything from Nikolai. But he's a tad fucking pissed and the cigarette in the pilot's hand looks fucking delectable. Maybe Nik does too but he isn't that drunk yet.

He takes the fag with a grateful nod, fumbling to grab the lighter from his pocket as he leans against the wall outside of the pub. It was a second-hand lighter, as in he stole it from Mac weeks ago and refused to give it back despite how many times he got smacked over the back of the head.

He tries to light it to no avail, he's drunk and the spark wheel has been jammed for days. He isn't sober enough to fix it today. A quick glance tells him that Nikolai has already lit his own and is watching him with a look that is far too amused for someone who just paid for the last round.

He briefly considers asking to borrow the other man's lighter, chances are he'd just thieve it when Nikolai wasn't looking.

He doesn't get a chance to as the other man leans forward, for the slightest second John thinks he's about to be kissed before Nikolai ever so gently holds his chin and uses his own cigarette to light the only in John's mouth.

Holy fuck.

"Are you going to avoid it forever?"

Nikolai leans against the doorframe, arms crossed as he looks down at John. He pauses on his knees, glancing up at the Russian before back to the pile in front of him awkwardly. He should've known not to do Mac a favour, the man could look for his own fucking lighter next time. New lighter actually, John had lost the old, stolen one.

The position is far too familiar.

"That's generally the goal."

They'd all made drunken mistakes before. getting drunk was about making mistakes and God, if John wasn't good at that.

Although, ending up with Nikolai's cum on his face might be an all-timer in those regards.

"Folk get up to stuff all the time behind the scenes, doesn't mean anything, Nik."

The other man is kind enough to step into the cupboard and close the door behind him, they wouldn't want to subject anyone else to their fucking issues.

"It could."

He sounds so sure. It's juvenile the way he wants to protest that it isn't fair. He can't, maybe some people could but John isn't one of them. He can't do serious, he can barely do casual without being drunk.

He pushes himself up and pretends he doesn't groan at the faint twinge in his knees, Mac would never let it go when he noticed the newfound habit.

"You shouldn't waste your time, it won't happen anytime soon."

"I can wait."

[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

[ninadove]

Hey there! I was just wondering, do you have any headcanons for Kagami?

DO I EVER. Thank you for asking! ❤️🐉

I stole this one from @paracosmicat, but her favourite candy would be peach rings. They mentioned it in one of our fics an eternity ago and it stuck! This girl deserves all the treats… Give her all the treats…

Her perfume smells of orange blossom. This is mainly based on the fact that orange is her André-assigned ice cream flavour.

In addition to Toulouse-Lautrec (mentioned in Lies I believe), she would like Monet’s work: same period, adjacent genres, and he drew a lot of inspiration from Japanese prints which she would be familiar with. There is a certain rebellion at the core of impressionism she would love, without fully understanding why initially.

Felix has a complicated relationship with horses, but she loves them. They’re so big and powerful and a little bit scary and she looks at them with a thousand stars in her eyes.

She paints Felix! All the time! He will pose for her of course, but sometimes she will just sketch him while he’s still asleep next to her… Generally speaking, they were both taught to rise very early and would need to unlearn that. Many of their mornings would be spent actively making an effort to stay in bed and chatting about life.

On that note — she is the incarnation of the “I’m going to get a good grade in therapy” meme. Went to Marinette after S5 and specifically asked her to teach her sewing and arts and crafts and whatever so she could unlearn perfectionism… except she somehow managed to be a perfectionist about that (“Look at this plushie I made, Marinette. Its proportions are truly mediocre. This is great. I am excellent at accepting mediocrity.”).

Freckles!!! Freckles everywhere!!! It’s one of my favourite features about her and I want them to also decorate her arms and shoulders and back.

Her favourite flowers are actually tulips! It’s something she gets to figure out once she’s freed from the very strict conception of feminity her mother forced on her.

She calls Felix “Duvet” 🥹💜🦚

She’s little Louis Dupain-Cheng’s favourite aunt!

Not really a headcanon per say, but apart from the Dragon Miraculous, I would love to see her with the Peacock, the Butterfly and especially the Cat. The overpowering nature of her emotions is such a huge part of her character — it would make for great storylines!

Speaking of her Miraculous — I’d love to see Ryuko lean even more into the asymmetrical design she’s got going on. Maybe get a huge jacket that would disrupt her very sleek silhouette and signify how much she’s grown into her own person.

And probably more I’m not thinking about right now! A lot of them arise during the writing process, so the list is bound to grow!

[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?

[characteroulette]

Why I ship Snufpollo (and you can, too!)

So I have been writing this strange crossover ship like a dog running out of time. Why is that? Hopefully, this manifesto can explain my vision when it comes to these two characters.

First of all, who are these guys?

Snufpollo is my portmanteau of Snufkin, from the Moomins series, and Apollo Justice, from the Ace Attorney series. Snufkin is a seasonal traveller, spending three out of four seasons with his beloved friend, and Apollo is a lawyer dealing with, frankly, far too much bullshit.

You'd think they'd be incompatible from their professions alone. Snufkin is, after all, some flavour of illegal in most depictions of him, owing to his grudge against the Park Keeper. But Apollo has a talent for dealing with wild rebels, being raised by them as a child and all. So the two fit together better than you'd expect.

It really helps that they're very much similar characters. I was thinking of the song Lemon Boy by Cavetown, a shoe-in for Snufkin (he's name dropped in the song!!), but realised it worked well for Apollo also. And mashing those two thoughts together led me to make connections between them, which then led me to write a fic where Snufkin is Apollo's childhood friend, and from there it very much spiraled out of control.

How can they be alike?

Apollo and Snufkin are two sides of the same coin. Apollo is Heads, Snufkin is Tails. They're both guarded and snarky, orphans who were abandoned who make the most of their lives, and truly desire to help others. Their differences make them easy to pair up as well; Apollo is put-upon by his protagonist status and not afraid to show it, Snufkin tries to keep his tone light despite being just as upset at being the focus. Both of them express their trauma in similar but vastly different ways, Apollo moving past it bitterly and Snufkin moving past it without thinking too hard on it. When they have so much to discuss with one another and clash over (this fear of abandonment tying them together can make them butt heads in the best and worst ways), it's very easy for me to plop them both down into a situation and let their dynamic guide me through the scene.

But, really, Verse said it best: Apollo is a coconut and Snufkin is a peach.

Apollo has a multitude of walls and barbs keeping others from his soft and sweet insides. He seems like a hard nut to crack, and he will be if you go at him willy-nilly. But he's also easy to give in when you hit the right points. He's incredibly vulnerable on the inside and does his best to coat over it, to guard his soft heart, because of everything that has happened to him in his life. He's outwardly brash and rude, but he's genuinely interested in solving cases and helping others. He'll moan and complain about it being a bother the whole time, but he won't abandon others who need his help. He will straight leave if he's not having a good time or doesn't want to be there. Once you start looking for that hard exterior and soft centre, it's easy to see how his mind operates and what sorts of actions he'll take.

Snufkin, meanwhile, is outwardly soft and disarming. He seems far more approachable than his counterpart, seems amicable and easy to get along with, even. This is, of course, a complete farce. He is holding everyone at an unfathomable distance so you cannot even come close to seeing his true self. You can think you know him, since he is soft and friendly on the outside. But there's a high chance you'll never get close enough to see even a glimpse of his true face. The closer you try to get, the more his hardness reveals itself to you. The more you get nicked and stabbed by his barbs and venom crafted carefully to hide his centre. He will fight you every step of the way, taking precautions such as running when it gets to be too much or being the one to bite first to make you back off. As friendly and polite as he can be on the outside, he keeps his true vulnerabilities closer to his chest and hidden beneath a mountain's worth of defences so you will never see a fraction of the true him.

This dynamic, so similar and yet fundamentally different, makes them so fun and fascinating to place together. Especially when taking into consideration my final point which cemented their dynamic to me.

Snufkin is Apollo's Clay Terran (childhood friend whom he is so attached to that he will go feral if anything happened to him) and Apollo is Snufkin's Moomintroll (childhood friend whom Snufkin returns to see every Spring and leaves every Winter).

What does this mean??

Well, to put it simply: I see Snufkin as fulfilling similar if not the same roles for him that Clay Terran does, while also seeing Apollo as filling the same roles for Snufkin that Moomintroll does.

Snufkin is the one who is going to leave Apollo (/has been leaving Apollo). Snufkin is the wanderer who, on first appearance, has his heart set somewhere far beyond the cosmos. He's someone who can help temper Apollo's abandonment issues, but never really resolve them. He's suffered the same as Apollo (no parents, a troublesome and unwanted orphan, desiring independence and self-sufficiency above all else) and therefore can be a sympathetic hand, an empathetic shoulder. He can pull Apollo out of his comfort zone, being wild and free and prone to adventure, as well as be an emotional drain on their shared heart. He has to leave to be on his own, Apollo knows this, yet it never truly stops hurting. It never truly stops being a fear that he'll leave for good and never return.

Meanwhile, Apollo is Snufkin's anchor point. Apollo is the one he returns to every Spring, whether he wants to or not. Apollo is his heart, his whole reason for sticking around as long as he does. Apollo is the reasons he acts polite and friendly as he does, for Apollo's love of the world and want to do good pushes Snufkin to mimic that behaviour. Apollo is the embodiment of the joy of Spring, the heat of Summer, the melancholy of Autumn, and the solitude of Winter. The world is a vibrant and lovely place, but it means nothing to Snufkin if he can't return to his friend. Apollo is the embodiment of yearning, of everything left unsaid in Snufkin's breast. He is a home, a place to put roots, and Snufkin hates that more than anything despite being unable to cut himself free. Apollo is both freedom in its absolute form and shackles which deny Snufkin any form of freedom. He is someone whom Snufkin would defend to his last breath, yet he also continually chooses to leave every Winter in spite of this.

Hopefully, this explains a fraction of how insane I am about this dynamic haha. They have really become everything to me and I will keep shouting about it from the tops of the mountains because I love them so.

Wait, so the appeal is just the same as Claypollo or Snufmin?

No, not even slightly. Haven't you been listening.

More seriously, there are definitely similarities there that I've built up. Clay and Apollo are practically the same character because Clay canonically has like three traits and all of them relate to Apollo in some way. (The fact that you have to build Clay's character yourself really doesn't help.) Snufkin and Moomintroll are THE classic yearning forever and pining purgatory duo. But the devil is in the details, just the same as it is when it comes to differentiating Snufkin and Apollo themselves.

Apollo has more teeth and anger than Moomintroll usually does. Snufkin is colder and more of a fully formed character than Clay could ever be. Apollo and Snufkin's friendship gets to start when Apollo gets abandoned, meaning they get both the childhood mischief and innocence as well as the adulthood pining and messiness. It's the best of both worlds with so much more to explore and dig into. At least, I've worked very hard to build it up as such.

There is so much I can do with their dynamic, from disagreements where their barbs rub too hard against one another to the softness of their love for one another. Sure, Clay has the advantage of being written as a fridge for Apollo to go insane, but I can easily twist that towards Snufkin. Sure, Moomintroll has the advantage of being the sweetest guy around whom I adore whole-heartedly, but I can lay on the pining and parallels so much thicker when it comes to Apollo. It helps that they're two of my favourite characters, bar none, also.

So what is their dynamic, exactly?

Here's a tl;dr for ya, since you're so insistent:

Snarky, reluctant protag Apollo Justice gets to have his seasonal, wandering friend whom he is very unwilling to talk about because he is a private person. Barbed but pleasant Snufkin gets to have his anchor point whom he is pining ridiculously over but is unwilling to break past that barrier of friendship and so will just devote himself to his sunshine dragon despite also wanting to tear himself from this tie. They're easily seen as being similar to one another, from their penchant for leaving situations they want no part in and their guarded handling of others, but their differences make them come together in softness and in clashes in equal measures.

Anyway, recc time. Because I have written like 30+ fics of these two and have made my argument in those as well.

Lemon Boy is the very first! And while also technically not Snufpollo (it is Klapollo ultimately), it does showcase them coming together in their childhood. (For more on that, see Savoury and Bittersweet.) This one also continues in The Tramp and the Sun!

For a more focused Snufpollo experience, I've got A Tune of Sunshine as well as Hand in Hand, Your Heart in Mine! Both small little fluff pieces where these two see another again in the Spring.

And then for my money, You Cannot Possess the Sun is the best unhinged Snufkin I have ever written. Take that as you will.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading about my silly crackship!! Glauxspeed to y'all!!

[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!!

[m-jelly]

Your Leather Gloves

Episode 4 - The ways he worries

Pairing: Erwin x Fem! Curvy!Reader

Genre and tags: Modern AU, romance, falling in love, confident Erwin, flirting, Curvy reader, possessive Erwin, slight yandere traits

Concept: With things being very serious with you and Erwin, he starts to worry about different things.

Tagged on series as requested: @ladycheesington @watyousayin

Irritation was rolling off your tall, muscular, and deadly mafia man. No matter how much he paced and thought over everything, it didn't improve his mood. The only time he seemed to feel better was when he took a moment to gaze at you. Thick muscular legs shifted as powerful hands flexed.

"How? How could I let this happen?" He let out an exasperated sigh. "I planned everything and made sure. How? How did this happen?"

A little cough escaped you. "Erwin."

Thud. He dropped heavily to his knees. "My little peach."

"You can't protect me from everything." You couldn't help but giggle when he flopped onto your lap. "Erwin." You played with his wonderful soft hair. "It's just a cold."

"It's your first cold since we've been a couple." He raised his head and gazed up at you. "I failed to protect you."

"Erwin, you can't protect me from a cold. It happens." You coughed hard. "Ow."

Passion and love rushed through Erwin as his hands ran up your back. He tugged you closer and kissed your chest. "How dare this cold hurt you."

You squeaked when bit your chest. "Erwin, you can't fight my cold."

"I want to do something."

"Soup and medicine would be good."

He shot to his feet, pulled his phone out and started making calls. The apartment became busy with people rushing in and out. Food, medicine and gifts were delivered. It was a normal thing to have countless gifts delivered to you or Erwin hand them to you, but this was almost madness.

The stampede of people ended leaving you alone with your handsome beast of a man. It was like there was a fire inside him because he was moving with purpose in the kitchen. The incredible flavourful smells of food drifted through the apartment.

Seeing your man wearing his reading glasses and a cute apron tied tightly around him made your heart sore. After cooking for a bit he approached you with a hot cup of tea with honey and lemon. The flavours were incredibly soothing and made you feel better.

"Mm, thank you, Erwin. This is delicious."

He sat with you and pulled you close. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit better." A delicious shiver ran through you as Levi began nipping and sucking at your neck. "Erwin, wait."

He pulled back. "What's wrong?"

"If you kiss me you'll get sick." You cupped his handsome face and felt yourself melting. "I love you so much. I don't want to make you sick."

He nuzzled his nose against yours. "I don't mind getting sick if it's from you." He smiled. "It'd be romantic. I get your cold."

You covered his mouth with your hands. "No kissing." You squeaked when you felt his hot big tongue move on your hand. You pulled back. "Erwin!"

He dove for you. "Come here, little peach."

You slammed a cushion into his face. "No! I don't want to get you sick."

He grabbed the cushion and yanked it away from you. "I want to kiss you."

You turned your head making him kiss the corner of your mouth. "I care about you. I want you to be okay."

Erwin pressed his face against your breasts as he released a sigh. "You always know how to get my heart racing." He nuzzled a bit before pulling back. "Soup!"

You giggled and began coughing a bit. "Thank you."

He placed a tray on your lap. "Take your medicine first before you eat."

You downed everything and sighed. "All done. Can I have the soup now?"

He hummed a laugh. "Yes." He sat with you and watched over you as you ate. When you got messy, he would clean your face for you. "How is it?"

"Delicious! Thank you."

"Can I get a kiss?"

You hummed a laugh. "Only if it's on your cheek."

"Of course."

You leaned to kiss his cheek, but at the last second he turned his head and you kissed his lips. "Erwin."

"Whoops." He smirked before tangling his fingers in your hair and kissing you. "Mm, you're so wonderful."

You pouted a bit. "Don't blame me if you get sick."

"I won't." He chuckled a bit. "Promise."

When you laughed and smiled, Erwin's heart sang with joy because it was all for him. However, when you do those for someone else, it gets to him. There is no blame towards you, it was the men to blame. No matter how much Erwin let people know you were the love of his life, people wouldn't listen.

Erwin would take you anywhere that was safe for you because he adored your company. So, when he visited places he owned like bars, clubs and casinos you were right by his side. Dressing you up was a joy for him because he really loved buying you a lot of things.

Today he'd taken you to one of his casinos with a hotel, it was his best one and most loved by many. The clothes you wore slightly matched with colours and Erwin worshipped the ground you walked on as you walked around with him.

Sometimes Erwin needed to step away from you to do some work because if they didn't, they'd pester him in front of you and he didn't want to expose you to some of the things he did. The bullet you pulled out of him was the first and last time he ever wanted you to be involved with his mafia life.

After stepping away for a moment, he returned to the main floor to see a rather powerful mafia partner who was making you laugh and smile. The man crossed the line when he started lightly touching your arm and waist.

"Ed."

Ed turned and flinched a little at the murderous Erwin had. "Mr Smith! I was just chatting to your beautiful woman here."

"I saw."

Ed was beginning to sweat. "I uh...I should head out a-and leave y-you two alone."

Erwin glared at him as he left and only turned to you when he was out of view. "Little peach."

You pocked his cheek. "You left me waiting."

He hummed. "I had a job to do."

You pouted a little making you look so tasty and plump like a peach. "You work a lot. I miss you and I get a bit scared. I mean, someone shot you once and I had to pull out the bullet."

"Sweetheart."

You swatted his hand away when he tried reaching for your cheek. "It's fine, I shouldn't have gotten upset. You are a very important man in this city and beyond. You are needed." You checked your phone for the time. "I'm going to head home, it's late and you have work to do."

Erwin grabbed your upper arm when you started to leave him. "Peach."

You looked up at him. "Erwin, it's okay."

"No, it's not, my juicy peach."

"Erwin."

He scooped you up into his arm making you squeak. "We're going home together, you're not allowed to go by yourself." He adjusted you in his arms as your cheeks burned. "Besides, you are more important than my work and I failed you tonight."

"Erwin, it's okay."

"You're more important." He kissed you and hummed in delight. "My darling peach." He hugged you close. "We'll go home, have comfy clothes on and order some junk food."

You hummed a laugh. "That sounds lovely." You hugged him. "I'm sorry for how silly I got."

"Don't be sorry. I left the most important thing to me alone. I'm not surprised some man approached you." He looked down at you. "You're as cute as a peach and tasty like one. Any man would want you."

"Just because you adore me doesn't mean others do."

He let out a deep chuckle. "If you only knew how others gazed at you." He looked winked at you. "Do wonderful and delicious."

[thecclover-fanfictions]

The Letter

Part Two to "See You Again"

Good morning, my darling…

Yes, “darling”…I will call you darling throughout this letter and in every single letter to follow. I will call you “my darling” `cause it´s the truth, and you know that...it was the truth from our first second on, and it´s the truth even more as we both went through the battlefields of life.

I will call you darling here `cause you can´t veto, as you sure would do in front of me, out of your modesty. But not out of your heart.

I don´t know if I´ll ever have the courage to tell you all the things I´ll write to you now. And it´s not my loving heart which prevents me from doing this. Believe me, I would scream it to the world loud and continually, if I could rescue us from this paradox situation.

Maybe it is all my fault, at least the most of it. I made the wrong decisions (you will deny this now, I know…), but I had the choice. And I chose a life which ended in a half-world. Doomed to foul lies, back-to-front, toxic, an evil-smelling cesspool.

And I put you into another half-world. Safe and quiet, but not happy (one of my greatest torments to know you in this life, as you deserve all the happiness the world has to offer). Anything I do will make it worse, for you…And so I have to keep quiet. Quiet to the world, and I also should be quiet to you now… but for once I have to open my heart again.

If you´ll put this letter aside now I will fully sympathize. But I know too well that you will read my lament, and please, darling…I beg you to forgive me to throw you into the next pain.

I guess you couldn´t sleep last night, and of course you know that I didn´t also. I was full…full of you. My heart started to beat again since yesterday, since you entered the door and looked up to me with your lovely gaze, so trustful and intimate, tearing down the wall around my soul within a second.

My lungs were filled with fresh air the moment you touched my hand and whispered my name…you brought me back to the surface, out of my dark hole, back to life (the ridiculous remains at least).

I will never forget the way you looked. ..

I will never forget the moment I could smell your wonderful flavour again…peaches and wild roses (and your last cigarette)…and still now everything I smell is YOUR peaches and wild roses…the air around me, the paper I use, my bed linen at night smelled of you…in the darkness it felt as if you laid beside me…your flavour and the stars outside my window, staring at me with your wonderful eyes, even in the same shape of blue…the wind whispering my name with your voice…still my arms couldn´t reach you! But I had the fresh memory of touching you, holding you for good-bye, feeling you near to me the most precious few hours we could spend together.

The heaven-like bells of your voice, of your laugh, your chuckles still sound in my ears, sounded in me the whole night.

But what was more hurtful? My body and soul craving for you, the awful constant in my life for years? Or the bittersweet feeling of being granted the greatest wish: seeing you again…but almost like in those nightmares, being so close to you but not able to really reach or to hold you, and knowing it will be like this forever. Never again the way we always were.

Though this is the only way we are meant to be, we both can´t deny that.

.

.

No, no…I will stop this now. I have to. I can see you in front of my eyes, rolled up on your sofa in pain, tears in your eyes…I have no right to hurt you once more.

X

Darling, please, forgive me. I put this letter in my drawer, tried to forget, to focus on something else. Instead all I could think of was you. I strayed up and down my office, like a tiger, ending up dialling your number, determined to tell you all, out of my confused mind. In the last second I hung up, luckily. Before I would do the next thing to ruin you (I can´t ruin me, I am already).

I don´t know if this letter ever will reach you, it probably shouldn´t. I still have the choice to rip it into pieces, to burn in the chimney…but how could I ever burn the words my heart wants to tell you?

You made me very happy yesterday.

And while I´m staring at your photo here tears are running down my face, tears of joy and sadness at once. Because you gave me this wonderful smile again yesterday, all over your face, the smile which gets me weak knees till the end of my life. And those eyes who have nothing to hide and show me the way to your soul. But I can´t caress those smiling lips, I can´t kiss those beaming eyes, I can´t bury your lovely face in my chest again. I so much wish to listen to these three magical words you´d whisper into my ear while I´m holding you as tight as ever possible...

Do you know that yesterday you looked like on this photo here? Your hair tousled from the wind, or simply because you didn´t take enough time for doing it (which I always loved, you know). The same earrings, Father Christmas once brought them…rosy cheeks (I blame the healthy country life, not me…), the same gaze, the same smile.

Back then, after I took this photo of you, I kissed you. Because you were so wonderful. You still are wonderful. I have kissed this photo so often, I´m afraid I will destroy it shortly. It´s ridiculous to kiss a photo, but my whole life is ridiculous, I can´t care any longer.

Oh darling, how did this all end! Where did this all end?

My life exists on memories, the letter I write to you every morning and the letter you send to me every day. The rest is fog, a thing I somehow have to come through. The sun rises if the envelope with your lovely handwriting lies in front of me, if I impatient but carefully open it to devour every single word. Multiple times. Until I could sing it.

Our quiet but lively conversation is essential to me, more than ever. It keeps me through the day, let me feel alive as much as I´m yet able to. If you´d know how often I grabbed my telephone to call you, sometimes I even dialled your number in almost a rage of longing for you! As I did right now…oh, it hurts so much…

Do you know this feeling when your heart aches so heavy that you only can rest, stock-still and rolled up on your bed, waiting for this pain to leave your body and you exhausted fall into a dreamless sleep? Waking up in the middle of the night, still in this position, and your first thought is the person on the photo beside you? And the pain comes back, but relieves you with endless tears, until you falls into sleep again?

Yes, you know it. You know it all too well…

Sometimes I take the dried rose out of the little case in my desk drawer. You remember, the one you gave me on your last visit here. It still sends a rest of its strong flavour, even more if I keep it closed long enough, which is not always easy for me. But this scent is you, and I only have to close my eyes and I´m back.

Back to the days we spent together, the wonderful life you gave me, the crazy things we did. Well, not so much crazy for you, but for me, Fred from another planet. I´m back on the holidays we had. All of them in paradise, as it seems now. You were always so curious about the rest of the world, and I was happy to show you some parts. And…God…how much I wish you could join me wherever I go…

I remember the cheeky things…when you run along the beach in Greece, naked…just to tease me, and I had problems to catch you before anybody would find out…See, now you made me laugh again!

I recall the walks, the talks, the parties, the laughs, our kisses, our nights…your body…I still can feel your skin, every curve, your gooseflesh when I kissed you on the parts I love most…your running breath in my ear, your whispered words, your hands, your lips, your tongue on me…your eyes locking mine when we were one…No, I´m dying if I won´t stop now.

You see…my worlds is upside down, darling. From the day I got the joyful news to finally, finally meet you again I couldn´t sleep, barely eat, barely work…and I was rewarded. But now I have to pay a prize again. Knowing more than ever that my life is a farce, confused,

I want to come home, darling.

My heart is yours forever.

Charles

Maybe I will never send this letter to you. I really shouldn´t. If I do…I have to apologize for hastily putting it into the envelope, probably rumpled, crooked taping it up…leaving it to the post office before I change my mind…

[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?

[dexrall]

Decided to send some asks! ^^ (I hope this doesn't bother you)

Do you like monster energy? If so, what flavor?

What's your favorite cartoon or anime? (if you have one, if not, TV show)

Favorite song ever?

and speaking of music, favorite musician or music group?

do you like horror movies?

what is your favorite brand of makeup? (if you use it of course)

What's your favorite dessert ever?

sun or moon?

Coffee or tea?

The best color, in your opinion

1. I like the original flavour the best, but if I’m feeling extra sweet I will get peach or blue 🍑💙

2. Bee and puppycat forever!! 🩷🩷🩷🩷

3. I don’t think I can pick an ult favourite, but right now is “new brain by skye riley”

4. again I could never pick a favourite >.< there is too many!

5. I LOVE horror, the conjuring is my favourite mainstream series!!

6. Nyx or essence and rimmel!

7. Anything lemon 🍋🍋🍋🍋

8. 🌙 moon!!!

9. Coffee!! Especially iced! I like mine black usually!

10. Yellow and pink :3

[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

[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