#but i think i should have left the glaze for brushing it on in the last 15min

[dokyeomini]

roasted some veggies for lunch and i think i found a new fave in celery root it's really nice with the glaze i made

[thefunkfactory]

Biker Breath

Zane was riding home from work on his bicycle when he passed a pile of stuff sitting on the curb with a sign attached saying “For Free”. Zane stopped to inspect what all was left out on the street and saw a super nice looking biker helmet, carefully picking it up he noticed some scratches and dings on the helmet but besides that it was still in perfect working condition. While he was examining it Zane noticed the rancid scent emanating out of the helmet. Holding his nose, Zane began to put the helmet back onto the curb when he heard a voice in his head that wasn’t his, it was a deeper, more masculine voice demanding him to put the helmet on. Wanting to resist, Zane set the helmet down and turned his back to it and the other stuff on the curb when the voice again demanded “Put on the helmet”, Zane was overcome with the need to put the helmet on. As he lifted the helmet up over his head Zane pleaded with the voice “Please…No…It reeks”. Feeling the voice command him to lower the helmet on his head, Zane’s mind and body obediently obeyed as he lost control of both. Upon lowering the helmet onto his head Zane could smell the reeking stench of the helmet. It reeked of sweat and B.O., the previous owner had obviously never even attempted to clean it.

Regaining consciousness and control of his body, Zane tried to take the helmet off, but quickly he heard the voice command “Breath in deep wimp” Zane once again obediently followed orders and took in a deep whiff of the helmet’s noxious stench. Zane would have normally been disgusted but he wasn’t, in fact he loved the rancid stench of sweat trapped in the helmet. Zane heard another command echo through his head, “Get on your puny bike loser”. Zane sat on his metal bicycle and began to pedal away. With every pedal, he bike became more akin to what a real man would ride. It slowly transformed into a fast and slick motorcycle.

Zane revved the bike instinctually and he felt his dick shoot to life at the same time, it was weird, Zane never was interested in motorcycles but his body was aching for more. Zane’s puny body was sitting atop a nice expensive motorcycle now but his body and face were still that of a wimpy nerd. That was soon to change, the voice started describing what a biker boy should be like. “Biker boys are unhygienic beasts who never wear deodorant, shower once a week, and never brush their teeth, all of that is for weak pussies” Zane could suddenly remember why the helmet smelled so bad, it was HIS stench that was infused into the helmet. Zane breathed in another deep whiff of the stink HE cultivated and let out a pleasurable sigh, breathing out a torrent of funky smelling breath, Zane added to the stench and made himself more loopy. Feeling his weak body get light and tingly Zane kept riding his newly minted motorcycle, he stopped at a red light and looked over at the car next to him, “Had I always had such big muscles?” Zane thought to himself as he saw his reflection in the car’s window. “No…can’t be I…” he took a breath in and inhaled more of his noxious B.O. and bad breath, “…I have always been this buff duhhh” Zane pulled off and sped home away from the stop light. Arriving home his brother was getting out of his car in the driveway, pulling up was surprised when he saw the man on the motorcycle, he looked like a stranger to him. “Hey man I think you got the wrong address” Zane’s brother told the now insanely ripped Zane, “Whatchu mean bro this my crashpad!” Zane said loudly. “Nah my brother lives here with me and my dad not you” Zanes brother remarked. Zane got off his bike and walked up to his little bro, “Heeeeeeeeeeey man chillax…no need to get your pantiessssss in a bunch” Zane drew out certain syllables on words so that he could breathe out his nasty breath that smelled like he had just eaten garlic, and fish, and hadn’t brushed his teeth in weeks. Zane’s brother’s eyes glazed over upon smelling his older brother’s stale and stinky breath, “Oh hey bro welcome home” Zane reached an arm around his brother’s shoulder and they walked to the house together. “Yeaaaaaaahhh you love your big bro’s stinking breath dont cha lil man” Zane laughed and purposely let out a blast of his funky breath into his brother’s face, “Yea…bro I- I love how…stinky…your breath i- is…I wish I was m-more like you”His brother said mindlessly as if in a trance. “Well in that case lil bro I wanna take you on a ride tonight okay? You can wear my helmet I jusssssst got it” Zane breathed out more of his rank breath while he spoke. “Yea…uhh like…totally bro…” His lil bro responded not knowing that the ride would seal his fate just how his brother’s was.

[shalomniscient]

you’re seven years old and barefoot on the beach of yaoguang shoal with sand between your toes and salt-brushed wind in your hair when ningguang makes her first and only promise to you.

“when we grow up, i’ll marry you.”

the words are big, heavy on her child’s tongue but she speaks them with conviction nonetheless. her hands are laced with yours, your small fingers slotting perfectly with one another. the sunset makes her eyes glow like how you imagine the amber does at jueyun karst. you’re too young, too childish to really understand the weight of her vow—but you nod with a smile, squeezing her hands tighter.

“i’ll wait for you,” you say, hoping she can hear the sincerity in your voice. it’s a foolish hope, because you know that ningguang knows you better than you even know yourself. she returns your smile with one of her own, her hand never leaving yours as you walk back to your village, the sunset at your backs. the light paints ningguang in gold, and you can’t help but think at seven years old that this is how things should be—hand in hand with the girl you know you love before you even knew the meaning of the word, barefoot together in the sand.

you’re seven years old when you learn how things should be, but you’re fifteen years old when you learn how things are.

ningguang leaves for the city. she tells you before she goes, of course, holds you close as you weep selfishly into her shoulder. her hands are gentle as she sifts them through your hair, along your scalp and down the nape of your neck before wrapping around your slim, hunger-carved shoulders. i have to go, she’d said, or else how will i afford our wedding? and you’d wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter at all what kind of wedding you had, as long as she stayed with you—that all the riches in the world are worthless without her. but for as much as she knows you, you know her, and you know that ningguang is not to be deterred once she sets her mind on something, so you send her off with a delicately packed mora meat and a prayer in your heart that she’ll come back soon.

you’re fifteen years old when you learn how things are, and you’re twenty-one years old when you learn how things will be.

it’s been six years since ningguang left. even in the backwater village you call home, tales of ningguang’s exploits reach your ears. how she runs circles around liyue’s businessmen and businesswomen, how she effortlessly finds her place amidst liyue’s social elite, how she’s rising, rising, rising like an unstoppable eclipsing star. she keeps writing to you, always keeping you updated on her progress, and you always write back, filling your letters with the mundanity of your day-to-day life—about the way the glaze lillies have been blooming, or about the way everyone around you says you’d make a fine wife.

my parents are getting restless, you confess in one letter. i’m getting older, and they think i should get married soon.

the reply that returns the next week is simple, but succint. i haven’t forgotten. wait for me, please. and you know she hasn’t, which is why it kills you when your new husband forbids you from ever writing to her again. you weep yourself to sleep on your side of the bed for the next week following your wedding night. the distress of wondering—if ningguang is worried, if she’s upset, or worse, if she’s hurt by you—drives you near insane to the point you worry yourself sick. your husband only tells you to stop holding on to naive childhood promises and perform your duties as a wife. it is the only thing you are good for, now.

you’re twenty-one years old when you learn how things will be, but you’re twenty-nine when you learn that things can change.

in the years you have been married, your husband has grown—not in character, but in wealth. he is rich enough, now, to take you and himself from your village and to the big city to further his business. a small spark flickers to life in your chest that you might see her again, but it fizzles out when your husband makes it clear that you are just to stay at home. you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about anything other than the house, he’d said. i’ll give you everything you need. and you know better than to argue with him, so you resign yourself to staying at home, spending your days gazing up at that palace in the sky and wondering if its lady even remembers you—or if she, like you, has decided to let go of naive childhood promises. after all, she has the world now, can see it from the edges of her floating sanctuary. what need has she of the memory of being barefoot in the sand at seven years old?

(selfishly, you pray she hasn’t forgotten, even if she has no need for remembrance. you pray she chooses to remember.)

change comes when a woman in a white fur jacket and the prettiest emerald eyes you’ve ever seen breaks into your house. it’s certainly a very unorthodox meeting, and you come dangerously close to throwing the knife you were using to finely dice some cabbage at her. the woman only laughs, nimbly prying it from your hands and setting it on the counter. before you can even ask her what in rex lapis’s name she’s doing in your house, she says the words that make your blood run cold.

the tianquan wants to see you.

ningguang wants to see you.

the woman promptly leaves after delivering her message and additionally telling you not to breath a word of it to your husband, leaving you standing in your kitchen reeling from the shock. the mora meat you were working on putting together is forgotten as you swallow your nerves and take the chance you’ve waited nine years for. you’re nearly sick with it by the time you’ve ascended to the jade chamber in all of its opulence, feeling like you stick out like a sore thumb.

but the moment you see ningguang again, everything else fades to white noise. archons, she’s as beautiful as the day you last saw her. she was lovely dressed in commoner’s clothes, and she is just as lovely dressed in finery no doubt worth more than a year’s worth of your rent. she will never be anything other than lovely in your eyes.

“it’s been a while,” she says softly, the first to break the silence. you nearly cry at finally hearing her voice again. instead, you stifle it with a wet chuckle.

“only took fourteen years.”

ningguang manages a small laugh, lips curving upward in a smile you know—you remember—is reserved only for you. she offers you a seat by her desk, and two secretaries file in to place a tea set down by both of you, before disappearing as quickly as they came. and then ningguang is telling you about the real reason she asked to see you; your husband, as you are quite unsurprised, is involved with some sort of fraud, and the prosecution—the tianquan’s office—needs a witness. namely, you. after all, who better than the wife of the man himself? you try not to let your disappointment show, though, and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking her if she remembers—or worse, if she missed you. your conversation with her is pure business, and when you descend from the chamber later, it’s only with the taste of sweet tea on your tongue and half your heart; the other half you seem to have left with her, up in the clouds.

your husband, to his displeasure and rage, finds himself in millelith custody the very next day. and the very next week, you, to your pleasure and joy, find yourself lacking a husband. the millelith who take him away politely point you to an office down the street ran by a pink-haired half-adeptus, who takes care of your divorce affairs with a cheery smile in less than four days. you’re both scared and impressed—is this just how people move in the big city…? you don’t have time to dwell on the question, because unfortunately, without your husband you are also without your income, and without your income you are also without your house. which would be a very big problem; were it not for the fact that ningguang once again invites you to the jade chamber, but this time, to stay with her. you nearly decline because of the sheer insanity of the request, but the part of your heart there with her wins out. you relent, and now, you find yourself playing house with the tianquan of the liyue qixing.

it’s almost frightening, how quickly you fall back into old habits. ningguang, you find, hasn’t changed much. she is still whip-smart, still as cunning as she is devious, but she is still just as kind as she was before. something in you aches viscerally when you see the way she speaks with the children, offering them candies and goodies as she goes. (things neither of you had the luxury in indulging as children.) you smile and tell her, you haven’t changed at all. she only looks at you and returns it with, have you? the answer eluded you at the time, but thinking about it more, you would say that yes, i have. but the parts that loved you never did.

(you don’t say this out loud, of course. it’s too early, and the chasm of years between you both yawns achingly large. but by the glint of her eyes, you think she knows. and if she didn’t, the time and care she spent relearning you would have told her as well.)

since you’re not sure how long ningguang will let you stay, you decide to make the most of it. you’re almost thankful for the nine dull years you spent with your former husband—since at the very least, it taught you how to be a half decent wife. it’s all you’re good for now, after all. ningguang’s meals are cooked by you, and you’re the one who brings her tea in the afternoons and evenings. you talk with her over your cups like nothing ever happened, and you walk with her round the perimeter of the jade chamber as the sun sets, her hand close enough to hold. rumors dance in the wind like dandelions about the tianquan’s new companion; some call you an old friend, others, a lover. the answer is somehow both, yet neither. she is everything to you, and more.

(and you are everything to her and more. the infinte she has been searching for her whole life is right there in your eyes. it always has been.)

you’re twenty nine years old when you realise things can change, and you’re thirty years old when you remember how things should be.

ningguang takes a rare day off, and invites you on a little excursion to yaoguang shoal. it’s been a year since you started living with her. a year since you’ve been freed from a man you never loved, and a year since you’ve come to realise that it’s because you’re still in love with ningguang—and that perhaps, you never stopped. it’s not as difficult as an epiphany to come to terms with, but it does make your chest ache every time you look at her. especially now, in this place, where the waves carry salt-brushed wind and memories of a distant time. the sun hangs low in the sky, and ningguang is kicking off her heels, barefoot in the sand. all of a sudden you’re seven years old again, watching her watch the waves and wondering if her eyes glow the same like the amber at jueyun karst. you slip your own footwear off too, standing by her side in the sand, the water lapping at your ankles. she speaks first.

“i still remember,” she murmurs, and your heart catches in your throat. when she looks at you, it’s with all the bare innocence she looked at you with twenty-three years ago. “do you?”

“of course,” you answer, without a beat of hesitation. “how could i forget?” how could i forget you?

ningguang smiles. “then you remember what i promised you here?”

“yes,” you breathe. “i remember.”

the woman before you exhales, the sound nearly drowned out by the sigh of the waves as they crash onto the shore. her geo vision glimmers, and a crystalline box manifests in her hands—her hands that tremble as they open it, revealing a simple golden band inside. “will you forgive me for taking so long?” she whispers, and you clasp your hands over her own, steadying them. you rest your forehead against hers, caught halfway between a sob and a laugh.

“i would have waited for you forever, ningguang.”

she exhales again. catches her breath. “then, will you let me fulfill my promise and marry me?”

you answer her with the only possible answer, catching her lips in a kiss twenty-three years in the making.

yes.

[batterygarden]

toxic!armin x bimbo!reader with a breeding kink

18+ MDNI

cw: fem! Afab reader, Armin's only kinda mean—some light degradation is included but then he’s sweet too!, bimbo reader, dumbification, mating press, cream pie, breeding kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation, mult. orgasm, reader referred to as mommy once, also pretty girl, Armin referred to as daddy twice, 1k words, sooo self indulgent and not proofread don't mind me

Armin’s noticed you’ve been spacing out a lot today—more often than usual which sort of alarms him. He’s never expected you to be quick-witted, but the entire time he's been over tonight your responses have been especially slow, eyes glazed over more often than not. He thinks of it like a fun puzzle to solve, trying to guess what could possibly be troubling your pretty little head, but you end up revealing where your thoughts have been all on your own once he's balls deep inside you. 

He has you folded up on the edge of your bed, legs around him and staring up at his face with little hearts floating around your head when, for the first time today, you have conviction in your tone. 

“So I decided something…” 

He picks up the pace of his hips a little, tilting his head to encourage you to elaborate. 

“Decided I want you to breed me, ‘Min. Wanna have your kids. S’that okay?” 

The ruthless pace of his thrusting has your water line on the verge of spilling over and Armin almost laughs at your vulnerable expression paired with your words. So this is what’s been stirring the air in your skull. How cute—he finds you so cute. Like a puppy he’s itching to kick. 

“Pretty girl,” he’s panting from the squeeze of your pussy, fighting to keep his tone gentle, “you sound psychotic.”

You hum like you disagree, but the sound only warps into a high pitched cry as Armin pries one of your legs off his hip and folds it up by your chest. The new position is almost uncomfortable but you can hardly complain when his cock reaches even deeper inside you, filling you till you can hardly breathe—giving your body what it didn’t know it needed. 

You try to grind against him as you chase a fast approaching high, and Armin rakes his fingers down your soft skin as he watches you grow drunk with the feeling of him. He loves looking at you like this. He loves the give in your flesh while he abuses you, while he pounds the last of your senses out of your mouth in a jumbled cry, the way whatever fragile composure you held dissolves behind hazy eyes. He loves that all that’s left is a body, clinging to him like that’s your only remaining instinct—he loves that he can make you even stupider.

But it’s unexpected when you somehow come around to cry to him when you cum, tears streaming and nails digging into his shoulder when you whimper,

“Ngh, Armin I wanna have your babies. Please, please, please… want your cum!” 

At this point you’re too gone to even realize that you’ve accidentally struck a chord. The feel of your cunt clamping down on him, sucking him in so tight that he can’t remember what it feels like to be apart, paired with the image of you round and glowing and filled up with his kid. Armin wants it. Suddenly he needs it. Your relentless begging and crying while you cum only spurs him on—Armin’s lost any resolve to say no—forgetting why he even should.

“You wanna have my child?” He almost whines, fucking you through your orgasm and struggling to maintain his composure while your pussy throbs around him—maybe it’s already long gone. You can only nod and reach a limp hand to brush some hair temporarily from his forehead, you wanna look in his eyes but you can hardly concentrate enough to keep yours open. 

“Want me to—god—fill you up? Gonna be a mommy with my baby in your tummy?” 

Armin’s words are breathy, and his grip below your folded knee is so tight you’re losing feeling in your foot. Your pussy has him in a trance. 

You find your voice through the overstimulation to cry out “uh huh! Wanna make you a daddy, ‘Min.. Let me make you a daddy...” 

He huffs as his own release edges near, using his other hand that’s been bruising your hip to wipe tears off your cheeks before folding your other leg up. Now you’re in a mating press—brain mush while he absolutely obliterates you.

“You’re so… you’re so annoying. Ugh.” 

His hips start moving even faster. 

“But yeah… I’ll give you what you want… guess you deserve it.” 

You don’t have to power to respond, only nodding in encouragement while Armin’s heavy cock rams into you with the kind of force you're pretty sure could give you a concussion—you’re past overstimulation, you’re on the brink of another orgasm right along with him.

Everything is Armin—that’s all you can focus on, his breaths turning to wanton sighs as he approaches release, his grip tightening on the dewy skin of your thighs where he holds your legs. When he finally tips over the edge, you manage to peek a heavy eyelid open and watch the angelic face he wears—the way his eyebrows crinkle together and his glossy lips part in a little “O”, the whiny moan he lets out—it’s pornographic. But you can only steal a glimpse before your forced to squeeze your eyes shut again as you topple almost painfully over the edge with him, head going fuzzy with the overstimulating feeling of his dick twitching inside you, emptying his heavy balls till you can feel his hot cum in your tummy. You can hardly even hear Armin's strangled cry when you clamp down on him a second time, twitching on his cock till he’s seeing stars.

When you both finally finish, and your twitching slows enough that he can pull out without wincing, he’s hypnotized by the way cum pours out of your abused cunt, starting to pool onto the mattress below you before he fingers it back in. Then he’s pulling on some boxers before taking inventory of your lifeless body, collapsed on the sheets with closed eyes. 

He rubs a palm over your tummy not unkindly, thinking about how it’ll get bigger. 

“You okay, pretty?” 

You can barely nod. 

[azzibuckets]

attitude [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: paige catches attitude and azzi keeps her in check

a/n: basically the nyfw and ny liberty game fic yall requested. @makethemhoesmad to thank for the prompt!!!!

masterlist

Paige had never been a big fan of side parts, but that was before Azzi Fudd.

Now, as she stared at her girlfriend, her soft curls tossed to the left and framing her doe brown eyes in just the right way, Paige wanted to tangle her fingers in Azzi’s hair and kiss her and kiss her.

But knowing Azzi likely wouldn’t take kindly to messing up her makeup after hours of sitting in her chair, Paige settled for merely inching a little bit closer to her best friend on the couch where they were sitting. Azzi’s cheeks turned a faint red when Paige brushed her pinky against hers. “I’m not gonna lie, you look hot as hell right now,” Paige said lowly, voice thick with want.

Azzi’s blush turned fiery. “You sure know how to woo a girl,” she said sarcastically.

Paige leaned in closer. “Is it working?” she asked, her lips only a few centimeters from Azzi’s mouth. Azzi’s eyes flicked down before she inhaled and scooted back. “You’re gonna mess up my makeup.”

Paige looked wounded at the distance between them. “You weren’t saying that last night,” she quipped, earning a smack to the head. “Yo, you’re gonna mess up my hair,” Paige complained, turning to face the mirror and adjust some strands.

“Good, maybe all the bitches will back off,” Azzi joked lightly.

“At least those bitches would kiss me,” Paige grumbled, eyes glazing over as she stared at Azzi’s lips.

“Control your face,” Azzi chastised, though her heart warmed at how Paige looked more in love with her every time she saw her. “Especially in front of the cameras later.”

“I know, I know.”

•••••••••••••••••••••

Paige was not controlling her face.

She had done a pretty good job at the beginning of the event. Hell, she’d been beaming and shit seeing the crowd she was intermingling with, filled with celebrities she’d never thought she’d meet in person.

That was until that same redheaded slut kept approaching her girlfriend and smiling at her in that slinky way. It didn’t help that she was unable to secure neighboring seats with Azzi, forcing her to sit across the room and burn holes into the ginger’s head as she laughed at everything her girlfriend was saying.

“Remind me to play poker with you some day,” Brittany piped up from next to her. “I would walk away a millionaire.”

Paige clenched her jaw. “You think this is funny?”

“You really think carrot head holds a candle to you?”

“Her boobs are sticking out and shit in that dress she’s wearing,” Paige gritted through her teeth, completely ignoring Brittany’s words.

Brittany smiled, enjoying the show unfolding before her. “Maybe you should do something about it,” she goaded.

“Fuck this.” Paige slid out her phone, hoping to distract herself by scrolling through Instagram. Her grip tightened, almost cracking her phone when the first post she came across was a picture of her and Azzi posing from the hour before, and all she saw in the comments were people thirsting over her girlfriend like animals (Aka me). “People have no civility these days,” she decided, shoving her phone back into her pocket.

Brittany only smirked.

As soon as the runway ended, Paige leapt from her seat and started making her way towards her girlfriend. All thoughts of wayward cameras left her mind as her vision tunneled in on the way the redhead’s acrylics scraped lightly over Azzi’s bicep.

“Hey,” she said lowly, hands tracing down Azzi’s sides before settling at her hips. “Who’s this?” She nodded at the girl but kept her eyes on Azzi.

Azzi’s eyes furrowed in confusion at Paige’s carelessness, her hands subtly covering the blonde’s and gently pushing them away. “This is Odelia. She’s one of the interns coordinating New York Fashion Week!”

“That’s nice.” Paige’s voice dripped with fake enthusiasm as she leaned her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, arms going back to circle her waist. “I bet you’re an amazing intern.”

Azzi shifted at the condescending way Paige emphasized intern. She stepped away, causing Paige’s hands to drop. From the way Azzi’s eyes glared daggers into her, Paige knew she was in for it later. Oh well. The look in Odelia’s face had been worth it.

•••••••••••••••••••

“I’m hungry,” Azzi announced as soon as she slid in the back seat of her car.

Paige stared out the window, her neck stiff. “Maybe you should’ve eaten that redhead bitch.”

Azzi stilled, only halfway into the car before she realized her surroundings and climbed fully in, shutting the door behind her. “That redhead bitch?” Azzi repeated, mocking the same tone Paige had used.

Paige slumped low into her seat, pulling down the drawstrings of her hoodie that she’d replaced her sweater with. “Fucking looking at her like she was a four course meal,” she muttered under her breath, her gaze stilled fixed on the buildings whirring past outside.

Azzi decided to ignore Paige, not wanting to have a conversation like this in the backseat of the Uber. “Can you make a stop at McDonald’s?” she asked the driver, who nodded and started to shift lanes.

“Bro, let me just go home,” Paige complained.

“Drop the attitude,” Azzi warned, her tone deadly. Paige glowered even more but immediately shut up.

“You want anything?” Azzi asked as they pulled up to the drive through.

No response.

“Paige Madison Bueckers.”

“A cheeseburger and fries.”

When they were given their food, Paige made sure to start munching loudly, knowing Azzi’s pet peeve was loud chewers.

Azzi set down her burger and rubbed her temples. “So you’re gonna keep being a brat?”

Paige chewed louder.

In one quick motion, Azzi snatched the fries from Paige’s hand and dumped them into the bag. Paige immediately reached over to grab it back, but Azzi quickly menauevered it, putting the food between the door and her body. “Act like a kid and get treated like a kid,” Azzi said, her voice hard.

••••••••••••

If Paige had been mad last night, she was furious now. After they’d got home, they’d had a little fight before Paige had stubbornly went to the couch for the night. With the business of their trip, they hadn’t had time to talk about it since, and it was killing Paige not being able to hug and kiss her girlfriend for the entire day.

Did Paige know she was being bratty and stupid? Yes. But Azzi was always so sexy when she was worked up.

Paige did have a tactic. She was trying her hardest to not let her gaze settle, but for the tenth time in five minutes she found herself staring at Azzi again from across the arena. Her girlfriend’s hair was up in a bun now, slut strands framing her face. With the sunglasses she was wearing and the gum she was chewing, she looked perfectly poised, but Paige knew Azzi was still tense from their argument.

In all honesty, Paige wanted to be in Azzi’s lap, not sitting here watching the game. She’d tried to take her mind off Azzi’s long legs by striking up a conversation with Klay Thompson, who sat next to her, but as soon as the NBA star opened his mouth to respond, her thoughts returned to Azzi Azzi Azzi.

After the game, Paige tried to rush through all the pictures, but Azzi, who seemed to know what she was doing, merely smirked and took her time. She must’ve said hi to every single person on the Liberty and Aces roster before joining Paige at the exit.

“Someone’s in a rush,” Azzi noted as Paige sped walked to the car.

“Shut up right now.”

••••••••••••••

As soon as the door clicked behind them, Paige’s mouth was pressed feverishly against Azzi’s, her hands roaming across every single part of the younger girl’s body. “Looked like such a good fucking girl in this outfit,” she panted. “Got everyone fooled, but I see right through it.”

Azzi pressed Paige’s hips against the wall, holding her there. The blonde squirmed under Azzi’s stare coming from half lidded eyes. “Let’s talk about last night,” Azzi jabbed back. “Acting like a little fucking brat.”

Paige raised her hips, trying to roll them against Azzi’s, but Azzi’s grip was too firm. “You gonna punish me?” she breathed out, hands going up to Azzi’s shoulders to steady herself.

“I know your game,” Azzi husked, teeth dragging over Paige’s earlobe. “You think you’re so smart, huh?”

“Want you,” Paige whined, fingers hiking up Azzi’s shirt. “Need you.”

Azzi tsked, backing away from Paige. It took all of her self control not to take her right then and there, with the blonde slumped against the wall, eyes glazed over and hair a mess as she pouted. “No touching,” she said lowly. “Keep your hands to yourself.” Azzi slowly dragged her thumb down Paige’s jawline, relishing the heat of her skin and the way the older girl trembled under her touch. “Gonna make you regret all your attitude.”

Paige’s eyes fluttered shut. She fought back a smile. Azzi didn’t know it, but Paige had won.

[thebearer]

rosé flowing with your chosen family | carmen berzatto x reader|

anyways here's a blurb inspired by my lil friendsgiving i hosted and how i think it would be with carmen bc im delusional in my head lolz

"Carm, look at this for me." You frown, turning the bronzed pumpkin at the center of the table.

"Yeah, one sec," Carmen muttered, turning with the pot in his hand, stirring the whipped potatoes vigorously. "What am I looking at?"

"The table." You tilt your head to the side. "Should I just move the pumpkin? It's too much with the candles, right?" You huff, the tapered candles flickering in their brass holders.

"No, baby, looks nice. Leave it. We can move it if it gets too crowded." Carmen hummed, a tiny curl of his lips had your heart swooning. "Need to go get ready. It's six-thirty."

"I just have to put my clothes on." You wave him off, fixing a napkin so it was centered on the plate, each place card in it's assigned place. "Are you sure you don't need help?"

Carmen shot you a look, rolling his eyes playfully. "No, I got it, alright? Go get ready." He shook his head gently, pushing the asparagus around in the pan.

You scurried behind him, pinching his jean clad ass gently, grinning at how he jumped before pressing a kiss to Carmen's cheek that left him blushing.

Your first Friendsgiving hosted at your place. An apartment a little bigger than Carmen's old one, but still cozy and all your own- the two of you. What better way to spend your first holidays together than to invite your friends over?

You were fussing over the glazed carrots on the counter when Sydney arrived, always early. "Hey," She crept in awkwardly into the kitchen, her head poking around the corner. "I, uh, I brought a dessert."

"Wow, that looks amazing." You grin, taking the dish from her, hugging her briefly in greeting. "What is this?"

"It's-"

"-It's a champagne cake with whipped butter cream frosting and a light raspberry spread." Marcus finished, stepping in behind Sydney, balancing a bottle of wine and his coat. "Don't let her take all the credit. I made it."

"Ok, well, I told you to add the raspberry-"

"-Well, I was the one who made it and added it-"

"-Alright." Carmen huffed, his voice edging on the tone he used at work. "Glad you both are here, alright?. The cake looks amazing."

Marcus whistled dramatically, peering over at the food laid out on the counter tops. "Looks good in here, Chef." He grinned.

"Thanks." Carmen muttered, brushing the rolls with butter, checking the oven again.

"Do you guys want anything to drink?" You ask, pulling the fridge open. "I have rosé or wine or anything?"

"I'll take a glass of rosé." Sydney nodded, shedding off her coat and hanging it over the back of the couch.

"Yeah, better get some now." Carmen snorted lightly. "Before Alicia comes."

"I have her a backup bottle." You smirk, pulling out the bottle proudly. "Alicia and I were watching the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills reunion, right? And she-" The door closed and you turned, your best friend walking in with a huge grin.

"-And she literally brought her own bottle of rosé." You laughed, shaking your head at her.

"I did." Alicia beamed, hugging you tightly. "Carmen, I promise I will not throw up or sob on your couch this time. I'm very stable now." She grinned at Carmen's huff of laughter.

The kitchen was packed, crammed at the table, laughing and swapping stories over the food. Carmen looked at you, the glow of the candles you insisted having to make it feel more homey- they did. How you were grinning, laughing at Fak and Richie bickering, giggling to your own friends and reminiscing.

For once, the holidays didn't feel like a chore. Carmen had been dreading this dinner, not the cooking or the setting up, but having people in his space. He didn't dare say anything, you were too excited and he'd never ruin your glee like that. Still, for him, the holidays were chaotic, everybody tense and scared.

Not here.

Not next to you, surrounded by all your friends.

Carmen finally got why people loved the holidays so much, why it was the most wonderful time of the year and all that. In his tiny apartment, sitting next to the love of his life, your hand holding his gently under the table, thumb swiping over his knuckles, squeezing it lightly when you'd look at him, eyes crinkling in a smile.

[writtenbyaperson]

"Touch Base" Zuko x Reader

Summary: You get to touch Zuko's hair and it means a lot more to him than he expected. Word Count: 872 Genre: Fluff, F!Reader

"Wow, soft."

Zuko's hair slides between your fingers. Your wish is being granted by him today. A lucky indulgent day.

"I expected the texture to be…" you form a claw and rake through his brown hair like a school nurse inspecting for lice "like Appa."

"…"

He's offended.

"Like Appa." Zuko repeats with a flat tone. Appa grunts, responding to his name.

"She means that in a good way, buddy." Aang says. Always the mediator.

"Don't make me regret this." Zuko says.

He crosses his arms. If he had eyes on the back of his head they would be staring at you pointedly.

"Sssorry" You whisper faintly. You shut up as to not cut this moment short with your marathon runner of a mouth.

Gingerly you pet and rub the new hair growing on Zuko's scalp with your finger pads. The strands are surprisingly healthy and thick. Does he take care of his hair? Your hands brush from the roots to the ends to even out the hair oil. Occasionally scratching down the back of Zuko's neck. The tension in his neck eases. His whole head even bending to the side a little as you pull back his sideburns with fingernails. Zuko closes his eyes, subdued by the massage. Be damned with how he looks. Every vibration cascades from apex of his skull to the base of his spine. He can't ever remember being given treatment like this at all. "Maybe I could braid-"

"T-that's enough hair touching." Zuko waves your hands off his head. A light pink colors his cheeks. You smile and apologize. At least he was nice enough to entertain you.

"Why don't you ever let me touch your hair?" Katara asks Aang. He mocks a laugh as he cracks walnuts into a bowl.

"You did have hair for a while there, Aang." You say.

"Yeah… it didn't feel right." Aang rubs the back of his head with a bashful toothy smile. Probably trying to forget about what lead up to that hair growth.

--

Cricketfish sit on the lillies in the lakes. Filling the night with incessant chirping. Zuko tosses and turns. It's stupidly loud for a peaceful building. Plus the bed roll fibers prick him at every angle. He grunts. Giving up, he gets out of bed. Screw sleeping again. The gaang already had dibs on the bedrooms that didn't cave in from being abandoned. So he was left with the depressing children's play room. Sokka made sure to take a jab at him when they gave him the room. There's no way to check the time, so he'll have to wait out the sunrise. Quietly as he can, Zuko leaves the room.

The straw door is permanently pried open. Walking out into the hallway he can see walls lined with rounded windows and the view is extravagant, he never noticed it before. Being too caught up in pointless chases. Tall mountainous islands covered in verdant moss peak through dreamy clouds. Rushing water and peaceful creatures add music to the background. A thin lining of trees surround the building.

"Zuko."

Zuko turns his head, his heart switching gears at being caught up roaming the temple. He calls your name thinking he recognizes the tone. There is no response. Maybe he misheard.

The southern part of the temple was coaxing him, he follows, despite resistance pulling at his stomach. On the way, carvings of Airbenders being jovial and participating in ceremonies lay in the weathered stone. Whimsical imagery by day is haunting at night. Laughing monks mock him as he lights a small flame in his hand to guide him the rest of the way.

He's closer to the source of what called him. Curiosity licks. "Hello?" Zuko whispers.

He pauses.

All of the noise disappears, he could only hear his breaths and the crackle of fire. The south end of the temple bleeds out into a balcony that overlooks the land. The rails thick and crumbling. A blanket is folded up off to the side. He lets the fire go out and goes to the edge.

The sun should come up in a few hours. Fresh moon light glazes the edges of leaves on the trees underneath. Dewy fog coats everything.

Zuko looks at the blanket. Unlike the architecture, it looks fairly new. Plush.

The past month dragged on too long, treacherously tiresome. After pleading his case to the group, the guilt still ate at him. If he didn't get any sleep he'll get sick just like last time.

Zuko's not sure if he would admit it to you, but when you brushed out his hair and massaged his head, he felt peace. A stillness from the turmoil inside him. Each breath was clear and refreshing. The tightness capturing his body let him go for that fleeting moment.

Zuko isn't one for conversation. You were so delicate with him. He'd been touched by people before but even when you were just gratifying your want of touching his hair, you were still so attentive to him. The care you gave satiated a hunger he ignored.

Moving to the middle of the balcony, he sits cross legged. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He manages a smile.

"Thank you."

[acourtofquietdreamers]

“Why don’t you ship Elain with her mate? Don’t you know Sarah is a fated mates author?!”

Let’s take a look at Elain’s mate vs….

The person Feyre pictured with Elain and smiled.

“Autumn Court males have fire in their blood—and they fuck like it, too.”…Lucien caught me cringing at him when her words replayed for the tenth time an hour later…I shook my head, trying not to imagine Elain subject to that…fire.

“And I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.” I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together.

The person willing to save her himself.

Lucien was shaking his head, panting, and whirled to us. “Get her back,” he snarled at Tamlin over the ranting of the king.

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

The person who made her feel at ease during their first meeting.

As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain. She cringed away from the coat, from him

But Azriel’s attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.”

The person she can sit in comfortable silence with.

It was the most uncomfortable thirty minutes I could recall.

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.

The person who knew she didn’t need anything.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

The person who understood her and saw her when no one else did.

“Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek. Whatever he’d felt, it wasn’t what we were looking for.

Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.

It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not…Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.

The person Elain enjoys spending time with.

Elain, at least, would be too polite to send Lucien away when he wanted to help. She was too polite to send him away on a normal day. She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left.

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. Whether he cared about such things, I had no idea.

The person she has palpable chemistry with.

Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.

The person who gives her a gift that she wants to wear right away.

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings.

“It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?"

The person who looks at her and only thinks of her.

But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda.

Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

This supposed “fated mates author” has made it really difficult for me to ship Elain with her mate when a much more compatible option is right there. Four books with moments that solidify Azriel as the person for Elain, mate or not.

[itsmepage]

One Less Lonesome Bride

Delores x Dead Bride! Reader || Okay so- I know I said I’ll make something for BJ after the movie but his ex wife was looking a little TOO FINE😩 I couldn’t keep my eyes away y’all you have to watch it for yourself SHE IS GORGEOUS. I sprinkled a little backstory for her because she’s deserves it

Summary: After being left to die by your ex and play the piano by yourself for so long, you meet Delores

Romantic Fluff

Warnings: Talk of death, murder, cult, hints that reader grew up in the victorian age, and just descriptions on being dead.

POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR “BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE!!!”

_✍︎︎

One lonesome Bride that’s what you are. Wandering in the afterlife by yourself still in your white grown isn’t you imagine for your dead life to be nor wanted it to be; on your ceremony, you imagine a long filling life, where you and your lover grew old together, have children, things that were normal to want in your day in age but for one second you’re at a wedding and the next your were here: at the Netherworld, dead. You spent some time finding your groom-to-be, thinking he met the same unfortunate fate and he just got lost from you, however after maybe like… 178 years still no sign. It’s funny that’s how long you’ve been dead for but you couldn’t tell. They don’t keep track down here.

You silence your thoughts to a piano, something you did often in your life: letting the gentle music playing from your fingertips relax the nerves within yourself and despite being dead it still had its effect. A crowd never did show up to come to watch you, which has never been a problem to you, well that was kinda of a lie. Before your death you’ve dreamed of being a musician, which was silly for women from when and where you were from regardless it was still a big dream; you’ve longed to be a part of those concerts you would read on the paper or see on paintings and how magical it looked. It was a big promise your partner made before you passed on your wedding. A shame you never got to see it, alive but you were content playing your emotions away. Occasionally some do pass by to view your playing, but, most of the time, it was always newcomers. You didn’t blame them either: the piano was so out of tune almost completely broken but you kept playing anyway, only listening to the song in your head. Swaying along to its beat.

As you press the keys of a broken instrument a gust of wind flew past you, way too fast for you to think it was just the wind. You paused your playing for a quick second, checking if a ghost came into the room to hear you play, but there was nothing. You brushed it off quickly and turned back to your notes, after all, it was the Netherworld. The music blinded your senses, deafening you from the threat echoing around your music room. You spammed your notes when you glazed up feeling your dead heart beat for a second at the woman in front of you.

She was dressed in all black in a gown that looked like a wedding dress- in a completely different style than yours. Her black curly hair matched the dress and her lips were the only color to pop from her complexion. She was stitched up just as you’ve imagined the face of Dr. Frankenstein’s monster, the only difference being that you wouldn’t describe her as horrid and monstrous.

But as memorizing and beautiful.

You patted your eyelashes feeling like you were staring much longer than you should the silence being overwhelming and the absolute dominance she had over you sent a pleasant shiver down your dead spine. She looks down at your hands-glued to the piano keys- then back at you, her dead black eyes staring into you. “Who are you married you?” She asked her accent echoing in the room. “Hmmm..” you hesitated, understanding her question, but found it difficult to find the words. You told your lover’s name: giving her an open book on your backstory, even though that’s not what she asked but you ramble on anyway like a nervous young man trying to talk to a lady. The mysterious dead bride made a satisfying ‘hum’ tilting her head as her eyes roam on you again, making you gulp. Her eyebrows narrowed when she fully observed the instrument in front of you. She looked.. confused? “What’s this?” She asked and you couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. “Why, it’s a piano.” Her lost expression didn’t change she just looked back at you. “Piano?” So she was serious, she generally didn’t know what a piano was.

You spent the rest of your time educating the enticing woman- now next to you sitting on a stool- what a piano was and what it did. The lesson shifted into a conversation of your story another thing she didn’t ask for but when you turned to look at her: she was smiling. Her eyelids resting on her black eyes, her soft warm glaze turning you into mush. Your breath hitched as you felt your cheeks warm up despite no blood pumping through your system. You cleared your voice, tracing back to the previous lesson before you got distracted. You moved your fingers to the previous song before she interrupted, your nervousness melting away as you broke into a song without even realizing it. Delores glued her eyes and mind to you feeling that spark of life she hadn’t felt in a long, long, long, long, time. In her human life, she only knew the supernatural, the folklore, the mythology, a cult she vowed to say loyalty to. When you live on nothing by power, survival, or vengefulness, you don’t live. She hasn’t lived in a long time and she thinks she realizes that now.

From then on, it became a tradition. Whenever you were not alone in your music room, she was right, there; listening to you sing and play becoming one of your most, and only, honorable guests. Because of this little hangout, the two of you grew to know each other more even enjoying each other’s company outside of the music room where you really got to clamps of who she was and why the dead screamed and scurried away from you when she was close by, eventually, the two of you locking your arms together. Delores had everything in her power to end your life twice and you knew that now, -she probably would’ve ended up doing that at your first meeting if she wasn’t so curious about your piano- however, she treated you like an angel she saw you as; her cold nail rubbing gently on your dead skin locking arms and holding hands to make you feel safe, her eyes being on your when you perform earning all of her attention, even going as far as to dance together at the soul train stop. Where the two of you shared your first kiss. She pulls you in mid-spin, slamming her cold lips on yours at a similar temperature sending warmth to your body.

Time seemed to pause at the moment and it felt you were alone with her, regardless of the dancing dead around you. She held your cheeks as you stared into her space-like eyes, feeling your dead heartbeat and you didn’t feel like you’re lonesome bride anymore, because of her.

[patheticpeoplesupreme]

TW// Panic Attack// Derealisation /Derealization //

Multiple names used interchangeably// ambiguous ending

read the side notes at the end!//

Sometimes, this world feels fake. Sometimes, he doesn’t feel like he lives in it.

When he was Houhua, he tries wave the fog away and picks up his brush and does his duties. He makes way too many mistakes in those days but no one pays any mind to him. No one pays any mind to his bruises anyway.

No one would care to find out. Why would they?

He was just a pathetic, puny little mouse, scurrying to survive. Canon fodder destined to die and return to the earth below for his sins.

This was his world. His story brought to life.

When the sun glimmers through his window, he wonders if the glow is artificial, like the failing bulbs he used to change when he was falling behind in his rent.

He opens his eyes, trying to blink away the fog, trying to bring back clarity , but to no avail, time slips by again. It’s warmer now, so he forces his limbs to move.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he takes a deep breath and reaches out for a hair tie before locking eyes with himself in the mirror.

Distantly he thinks, ‘this isn’t who I am.’

The colour of his hair was as bright as a chestnut, different from what it should be, shorter dark curls floating in the wind instead of being in a bun. His eyes glaze over— his bright amber compared to the hazelnut shade— scanning himself in the mirror.

His height—the body’s height was shorter by a few inches. He tries to breathe. It only serves to tighten the space in his chest. Finally, with his clumsy fingers, he wrangles his messy, unbrushed hair into a low bun, having no energy to do his usual high bun.

He wished he could cut it.

His hand lifts up to touch the body’s face . Shang Qinghua’s face. Shang… Houhua…?

He tries to think about true name.

He remembers projecting himself into his story, the story that he loved so much, even if it devolved into horrible cliché plots that never went anywhere. Even if the stories were left buried under, he still loved this world.

洛梅花

Luò Méihuā

A plum blossom. Blooming in the midst of winter.

Haa…

He feels like he’s wilting. He steps outside of his room, dizzily fumbling with his accessories, the buttons, the sashes messily wrapped around him

He thinks he smells smoke, a Pringly feeling rubbing against his fingers. He remembers the day he dies, the currents and volts electrocuting him. The sound of thunder never used to scare him.

Now he trembles at the sight of a storm. The percentage of getting hit by lighting is low, but it still terrifies him. To die. To feel that excruciating pain, to feel that excruciating loneliness at the same time, it was unbearable.

~~

Feiji blinks, suddenly standing right infront of his office door, a disciple of his holding the side of his shoulder. He remembers watching her stumble around as a young student, her name being on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t write her, he knew this, yet he couldn’t stop the wave of unease.

“Shizun?” She frowned in concern. He tries to smile and pat her head. Her frown doesn’t disappear, but she does scatter out the front gate.

Feiji wonders if Gua-xiong (Cucumber bro) feels like this sometimes. Like the world is floating away against his will.

“Shang-shidi?” He blinks again. A different person steadying the body— he didn’t even know the body was swaying.

Hm… Yue Qingyuan should be pretty and likeable… but no one likes a one-dimensional character. Though, they really don’t care as long as the protag gets their wives huh… hm…

Maybe I can scrap the Xiao Jiu storyline? The sect leader is gonna die anyway… it’ll be super bittersweet.



Yue Qingyuan’s brow was furrowed as he stared at the body. Shang—Hua flinched, remembering the descriptions that he’d thought of to make the pair suffer even more.

“All you do is apologise, and for what!? You left me behind!” Meihua laughed slightly as he wrote Xiao Jiu’s lines, thinking to himself, this will surely satisfy the readers angsty desires!

Meihua grinned with the artist he had commissioned to make official art of the peak lords, “this is exactly what i think they look like in my head, thanks!”

Shang Qinghua opens his mouth—

and chokes on a sob, “S—“

he gasps as his knees buckle beneath him, “Sorry.”

Fortunately, Yue Qingyuan jumps in quickly and reaches out to steady him, lowering him slowly instead of plunging to the ground. “Shang-shidi? What’s wrong? Your disciple ran into me and told me that you were acting weird—“

His eyes go wide though he’s not quite sure why and his hearing suddenly shuts down, muffling everything the worried man is saying.

Feiji is sorry, Yue Qingyuan— he’s sorry—he’s so incredibly sorry—!

—

“Are you sure there’s nothing that could’ve possibly sent him into such a severe qi deviation?” Mu Qifang questioned once more, desperate to get any answers on how to help his patient.

Yue Qingyuan shakes his head, grimacing, “No, the disciple I saw told me that he’s been that quiet since the start of the day.”

He paused thinking for a little longer before sighing, “She did not mention if Lord Mobei had visited either… there was nothing that could have triggered it. And nothing is calming him down.”

Mu Qingfang gazed over to the sobbing man boy, “I wish I knew how to help him.”

“Perhaps we should ask Shen-shidi for assistance. He…”

Yue Qingyuan’s expression closed as he thinks about it, “The two of them has been quite close in the recent years.” He reminds himself to calm down.

Shang Qinghua to him, is like having a younger brother, he could feel totally at ease with the oddly anxious peak lord. Despite that, it’s hard to let go of one’s protective instincts. One day, he hopes his instincts will protect the younger as well.

—

“Hey,” a familiar voice called out from the darkness, “Bro?”

Feiji opens his eyes—he didn’t even know he had closed them— and sees the Scum Villain he had created. His breath hitched, thoughts running at a million miles per hour.

The—The backstory that he had scrapped in order to chase the trends and feed into popular tropes—

“Sh—Shen—“ Feiji stuttered out. Shen Qingqiu softened (!???) his expression, before holding his hand out.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me, Shang-shidi. Mu-shixiong told me that you have—“

shangshidishangshidishangshidi

In a burst of weird emotions, He swats his hand away from him, his voice almost going to a shrieking level, shocking everyone in the room.

“STOP—! That’s not my name—! Please! Shen—Shen—Shidi.”

The two names were fluttering in his mind.

Yuan. Jiu.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He didn’t understand what was happening anymore.

“Yu—Yuan—xiong please—! That’s— that’s not my name!” He pleaded, “N—Not Shang Qinghua, not Houhua! That’s not me!”

He remembers vaguely the destiny of the body he’s residing in. “He’s not me—“

The two peak lords behind him blink in shock and panic, both frozen, not knowing what to do or say. ‘Yuan…?’

“Okay, I’m sorry, I know you’re not, you’re not him,” Shen Qingqiu nodded comfortingly, “It’s okay, Feiji—ge Gua—xiong is here.”

Feiji shudders at the nickname, one that would usually make him feel safe when it’s Shen Yuan uttering it, yet— all the name does is remind him that he had written all of these characters, all of their suffering, caused by him.

He shakes his head desperately.

Luckily, the man understands. “Alright, this master won’t call you by that name, it’s okay. Can you tell me what you want me to call you?”

It takes a very long time for his mind to catch on, for his mind to send signals on how to respond, he shivers, bowing his head, he grasps at the strings, pulling the cord that would finally make his voice work.

“Meihua— L—Luo Meihua! That’s—“ He sobbed, cutting himself off and desperately clinging to the one person he knew was real. “This one—Gua—Xiong.”

Despite not being good with physical touch, Shen Qingqiu allows the mousy man to grab on as a crutch, he nods along to his mumbles, gesturing Mu Qingfang to help put the panicked and stressed man to rest. “Okay, thank you for telling me Meihua, This one won’t leave you.”

—

“Please. We will explain it all, but please just trust us.” Shen Yuan whispers as the author in his arms falls quiet with his breathing at ease.

—

Blue =Airplane(Feiji)/Meihua(my Airplane’s original name) / & Shen Yuan / Gua-Xiong (cucumber bro)

Green=Shang Qinghua /Shang Houhua( Sqh’s original name?)’s body and original self (or what he perceives to be the original)

also, green refers to SVSSS characters in general and differentiates from real people

It’s honestly super cool I can do this on tumblr

Also side note:

PIDW to Shen yuan feels like Miraculous Ladybug to a lot of fans

it’s so funny

In general, a lot of mlb fans absolutely hate the way Chat and Ladybug is written and I just can’t help but think of Shen Yuan. But at least here, Airplane is likeable haha

[martiny0rk]

You're going to be a good dad!

Request:Dad Turcs where he isn’t a dad yet but his wife is pregnant. I don’t have anything else specific in mind.

Word Count:853

Alex had just gotten home from practice to find you laying on the couch which was now a more of a daily occurrence to find you as that was the only place you could get comfortable now being in your third trimester with your guys first kid which you both found out at a recent appointment that it was going to be a little girl. He was stoked about it.

He carefully closed the door making sure not to wake you up as he knew you had a hard time finding rest so far into your pregnancy. Alex started to remove his shoes, putting them on the rack by the door while doing so, laying his keys in the dish by the door before making his way over to your sleeping figure. The boy slowly squatted down to become face to face with your sleeping one slowly reaching his left hand up to gently rub his thumb over your cheek bone with a soft smile on his face.

He slowly brought his hand down to rub your exposed swollen stomach. Alex could feel his smile wide even bigger when he felt his little girl kick his hand but he did have a small worry that it would wake you up so he looked back up at you to notice you were still fast asleep so he places a gentle kiss on your forehead still with beaming.

Alex continued to rub your bump gently watching you sleep just admiring his beautiful wife and the mother of his child. He would every now and then place kisses on your nose which slowly woke you up from your slumber. You slowly start to stretch which scares alex little which makes him stand up and remove his hand from your bump.

“Oh Princess, Did I wake you? I didn’t mean to if I did.” He spoke softly to you trying not to scare you while gently running his fingers through your hair watching you rub the sleep out of your eyes trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light.

You slowly shake your head letting out a yawn saying “when did you get home?.” He helps you sit up brushing your hair out of your eyes, squatting down resting his hands on either side of your knees.

“Not too long ago baby. Have you eaten yet?.” still having the soft tone he was speaking with before to which you shake your head yes but then spoke up “you know i can always eat again. This little girl keeps me hungry.” He lets out a soft chuckle at your response kissing your head before pulling out his phone.

“What do my girls want to eat?” He spoke, pulling up doordash on his phone, moving his glazes from his phone to looking at you, putting his other hand that was not holding his phone on your bump gently rubbing your stomach.

“Hm..” you think for a moment before saying “Tacos.” which was honestly funny as that has been your main craving throughout your whole pregnancy to the point that Alex has made you Taco at three in the morning just to make you and the baby happy which he would do anything to keep you both happy.

“I should have known it would be tacos.” He softly chuckles before saying “same place baby?” to which you answer with a nod as you now have a go to taco place since finding out you were pregnant which was a family owned business that made amazing brisket tacos.

Alex puts in the order in on doordash after doing so setting his phone down turning his attention to you saying “it has been ordered. Now baby, what do you want to do?” You carefully stand up to which he quickly takes your hand into his hand helping you stand up putting his other hand on your bump.

“Let’s watch a movie in bed and cuddle?” you questioned him looking up at him to which he spoke “sounds like a plan babygirl.” Alex helped you to the bedroom noticing that your clothes that you had on were actually his.

You had on one of his plain black tee shirts with a pair of his gray sweats to which he found you absolutely adorable in them. He helps you lay down in the bed before handing you the remote making his way to the closet to get into something more comfortable.

After Alex got changed into something more comfortable he made his way back to the bed getting into the bed on his side and noticed you had put on a random romcom which made him chuckle but he doesn't say anything about it.

He made sure you had everything you needed before he got into bed so Alex pulled you into his arms holding you close to him kissing your head gently rubbing your bump with a smile on his face so happy you were the one carrying his baby. He just held you close whispering sweet nothings into your ear while you guys wait for your tacos to arrive.

[jarofstyles]

Mean dom h but his pov? Please!

Of course! We love writing Harry’s POV.

Check out our Patreon for early access to things like this and exclusive writings

WARNINGS- mean dom h, degradation, impact play, spit play, etc. filth!

wc- 1k

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“You’re so hot when you’re mean.” The sweet whisper made me smirk, feeling her nails dig into my wrist as I held her throat. The warm column was soft under my palm, holding her firmly against the wall as I took in the sight before me.

Lipstick smudged against her face, the deep red making me feel something a bit feral in the root of my stomach. Y/N was such a sweet creature, so kind and gentle. She had a delicate touch and a melodic voice, she baked her pies and rescued bugs from being killed. It shocked me how much her tastes in the bedroom when against anything you’d ever expect.

The sweet girl loved to be degraded. Being dragged around, manhandled, getting the rough treatment. Her eyes rounding and glazing over as soon as I spoke about how needy she was, how only a slut would grind against my hand, how she shouldn’t be able to fit all of me inside of her. It was something I hadn’t even meant to do, but I noticed immediately how much she seemed to melt over a bit of teasing, a bit of roughness.

You’d never guess it if you knew her. She had the most delicate and detailed touch. You’d never imagine she liked her ass hot from spankings and to be reduced to trembling mush from overstimulation, that she loved when I called her my whore.

“S’a little pathetic, don’t you think?” I crooned, tightening my grip. “Such a sweet little thing like you, but you get off on being a whore? Silly little slut for my cock, for me being mean to you?” I clicked my tongue, taking my opposite hand and roughly sliding it inside of her panties. A shaky gasp left her throat, her body squirming slightly as I let my fingers brush her hot cunt.

“Soaked. As fucking usual.” I laughed under my breath. “All I’ve got t’do is tell you to be quiet, to shut your pretty little mouth and I’ve got you soaking through. Shouldn’t even bother with panties anymore. Should I?” My lips formed a faux pout. “Ruining the things I buy you. Doesn’t seem quite right, does it? I think we should keep these off from now on.”

A shake of the head was a taunt. She knew her safe word, and she knew how to use it. She wanted me to continue. “No? You don’t want to walk around with easy access for me?” I raised a brow. Her cunt was clenching around nothing, I could feel it clearly. “Hm. I don’t think you get to tell me no, my love. I think… that if Daddy decides something, you’re supposed to be my sweet, stupid little slut and go along with it.” I reprimanded. “You’re just supposed to say yes and spread your legs.”

It had taken me a tiny bit to get fully comfortable degrading her, not wanting to truly ever make her uncomfortable or actually hurt her feelings, but seeing just how wet it got her, having multiple conversations about how it was really ok and got her off,I had fallen into the role like a second skin.

“Y-Yes Daddy.” She whimpered, breathing labored as she leaned back against the wall. Y/N was waiting for it. Loving every second. She taunted me and poked me to be mean and melted the second I did it. Sometimes she didn’t even have it in her to be a brat, she just liked to comply.

“That’s what I thought. Open your mouth.” I tapped my thumb against the hinge of her jaw, smiling slightly to myself as she opened as ordered. Her pink tongue peeked out a little, laying flat. Waiting for whatever I gave her. It went straight to my cock each and every time, seeing how compliant she was and how much she absolutely fucking loved it. “See? You can be good sometimes.” I chuckled, leaning over her slightly as I gathered some spit under my tongue, making her wait a few moments to get her to squirm. A little edging went a long way with her. Just as I could feel a slight vibration of a whine in her throat, I spit thickly on to the flat of her tongue.

I waited for a moment, seeing which way she wanted to play it. Luckily for her, she held it there with her pleading eyes, breathing a bit quicker through her nose. “There. You got a little treat for being so good.” I muttered, removing my fingers from her panties and slipping them into her mouth. The wet digits slid around the spit on her tongue, spreading it as she held her mouth open for me. “Now you taste both of us on your tongue. Can’t believe you let me do this shit to you, baby.” I shook my head. “Deprived little cunt. That’s what you are. Let me do whatever the fuck I want to you, let me own you… degrade you…” I sighed, pushing my fingers back and watching as she widened her eyes slightly. I pulled them back, resting them in her mouth. “Suck them clean.”

It was immediate. I had to think about how lucky I was, how lucky we both were that we were both into this shit. We understood the trust, the things it took to get her. My fingers slid from her lips with a soft ‘pop’, her eyes on me waiting for more. I loved her so much.

“You okay?” I asked in my soft voice, checking in on her. Her nod was quick, reassuring me she was still very happy with what we were doing. I slipped back into the other role as soon as I knew. “Perfect. Sit on the table and spread your legs like you’ve been begging for. If you can keep your hands to yourself and let me taste that pretty cunt, maybe I’ll let you cum. Don’t deserve it, but Daddy can be nice for once.”

[greytongue]

Hi! I really like your fics, so I will be glad if you write for me!

Leon x f!reader please

Let's say that f!reader doesn't like the taste of mint, but since Leon chews gum (we know that this guy offered Luis gum instead of cigarettes in re4) with the taste of mint and kisses with him always have a mint taste. Eventually, the reader starts chewing mint gum because he misses Leon while he is away. Leon should definitely tease reader a little about this when he gets back

hi!!! tysm, you’re the first person to request something from me and i am so honored!!!! hope you like this one <333

minty fresh

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cw/themes: leon is obsessed with gum. reader hates it. no smut. yall kiss. he steals your gum.

+

leon is a chronic gum chewer, always has been. the day you met him, he was working on a piece in between his molars and when you two actually got around to talking, you could smell the freshness of the mint on his breath. it wasn’t too intense, but it was there.

he chews gum pretty often. most days you’ll see him with a piece in his mouth, especially when he’s stressed.

now, you weren’t very fond of the flavor yourself. but you thought that his little habit was cute. especially when his jaw and temples flexed when he did do it.

he would definitely offer you a piece if you were around. you always politely declined, mentioning that you didn’t really like the flavor. he shrugged his shoulders, mumbling a “suit yourself.” before placing the strip onto his tongue and flicking it into his mouth. you were quick to turn away so he couldn’t tell by your expression that little trick he always did made you feel a certain way.

you began to associate the type of gum with him. if you saw the brand in stores or commercials, it’d make you think of leon. sometimes you’d buy a pack and leave it where you know he’d find it. he’d always seek you out to thank you, sometimes giving you a gift in return.

you’d been around his mint gum so much that when your mutual feelings were established and the both of you were involved with each other, kissing wasn’t a problem, really. leon ventured out into trying other brands so the flavor wasn’t as strong. but in all honestly, you’d grown fond of how fresh he always tasted. one time he left the gum in his mouth during a make out session, and you thoroughly shocked him by taking the piece into your mouth to have for yourself. he was turned on, to say the least.

it sucked when he left for missions and assignments. you missed him, missed knowing you weren’t the only one in the house. going to the grocery store and buying things you know he likes. knowing he was at least in the same city as you.

it was embarrassing admitting it to yourself, but… you missed how he tasted. you missed the damn gum. your hands gripped the handle of the shopping cart, staring at that certain gum. leon’s favorite. you bit at your lip in deep thought. he had been gone a month and you hadn’t heard much from him, it was getting unbearable. you caved, grabbing the packet and throwing it into the cart.

you fell asleep that night on his side of the bed, one of his shirts in place of the usually pillow case, and a piece of gum that you had passed out with in your mouth. little did you know, leon would be arriving home.

it was late, bordering on 4am when he entered the bedroom, jet lagged out of his mind until he saw the scene before him. dropping his bags, he gently made his way over to his side of the bed where you laid, smiling when he saw the shirt.

“hey there,” he slowly sat by you, carefully taking his hand to brush the hair out of your face and you began to stir.

that’s when he saw it, partly smelled it, on the bedside stable. his brows furrowed as he looked back at your face, glazed over with sleepiness. you rubbed at your eyes and began to yawn. that’s all he needed to confirm his suspicions. he saw a glob of white loosely placed on your tongue.

‘is that…?’ he had a thought.

you gazed up, eyes adjusting before registering that it was him. your leon, in front of you.

“le-“ your eyes widened, about to say something, he was quicker.

“open your mouth for me.” he whispered softly, one of his hands gripped the sheets and the other cupped your jaw, thumb bringing your chin down to part your lips slightly. the blond man immediately leant down to capture your lips in a kiss, humming at the freshness your mouth provided. it was different coming from you. you sighed into it, arms lazily sprawling over his broad shoulders, hands gripping over his shoulder blades as an attempt to ground yourself.

your lips moved in sync, sides of your noses brushing up against each other. his thumb came back, nudging in between your mouths. not allowing the intrusion to stop the motion, the pad of it gently nudged your lips to part more and his tongue invaded in, dipping to scoop up the gummy substance into his mouth, finishing the kiss off with one more press of his plush lips to yours before pulling away.

you inhaled deeply for air, on the borderline of panting. your lids fluttered open and were greeted with a smug looking leon, chewing away at the piece of gum you previously had.

“missed me that bad, huh?” he teased, giving a wide grin as you rolled your eyes, covering your face.

“shut it, kennedy…”

[vivalarevolution]

𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓪 𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶

Neteyam x Human Reader

Request: „Neteyam having a wet dream about reader‟

A/N: Idea sent by anon. I tried to create a bit more than the request itself said. I hope you will like the story and enjoy reading it.

English is not my native language, so mistakes can happen. The work contains smut, minors do not interact.

*Characters are aged up.

She moved so sweetly. Moaning and whimpering right into his mouth, which brushed against each other but did not connect, driving him crazy. His hands tightened on her hips, trying to pull her closer, but she didn't budge, stubbornly gliding up and down his manhood.

-My Teyam - she barely managed to choke out, her eyes glazed with tears, her hair scattered over her body, sticking to her in some places through the sweat on her skin - So good, oh so good.

His golden irises couldn't tear themselves away from her face contorted in a mimic of pleasure, even though such an unholy sight was within reach of his hand, all he had to do was look down at the place where they were joined to see the bulge that grew larger with every time the tip of his member reached her cervix.

But he kept his eyes up, something in the girl's expression was even more sinful, even better. The way she looked at him, the way she opened her mouth to make such sweet sounds, the way her cheeks flushed intensely, the way her skin glowed giving her a godly charm.

-My beautiful angel, you're doing so well - he praised her, cupping her left cheek with his big hand - So perfect for me.

-For you - she repeated, pushing her ample breasts forward so that they pressed into his chest, giving both the feeling of being even closer - I do this only for you, my Teyam, because I am yours.

Yours to take.

Yours to love.

Yours to dream about.

Suddenly his eyes opened, and the feeling of intimate warmth was replaced by a cold realization that slowly melted into his mind.

Neteyam wiped his face with his hand, scolding himself silently. It was just a dream. An unreal, sinful, passionate dream about her.

His beautiful angel.

She couldn't be anything else. When his father explained the meaning of the word to him, he knew it was describing Y/n because only she had recreated that immaculate description. And like an angel, she was too good for him, too beautiful to look at and too tempting to resist.

The young man couldn't forget her, not when she haunted his mind all the time and not when his eyes could see her so often.

He tried to be secretive but he knew he had fallen long ago, he also tried to be tough but one inviting glance from her beautiful eyes was enough to make him follow her, he tried to be relentless but the touch of her hand on his cheekbone broke him.

-Is something bothering you? - girl asked, walking next to him, their hands rubbing against each other from time to time, spreading electrifying shivers on Neteyam's body.

-I...-he started, but stopped, thinking hard about the answer - Yes - he replied, sighing, and when his eyes met those of Y/n he continued - For a long time.

She frowned in concern, looking at him more closely, after a moment hesitantly intertwining their fingers with each other. Difference in their size was significant, the na'vi's blue hand almost engulfing the one belonging to the human beside him.

-Do you want to tell me? - she asked more quietly, still not taking her eyes off him.

Boy thought for a long time. Walking across the empty beach, the only witness was the moon.

-I'm in love with a woman I can't have - he confessed, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice, failing instantly.

Y/n, unknowingly, stopped at these words, but she came to her senses quickly, putting on a serious expression on her face.

-You should tell her - she admitted honestly - We are adults, Neteyam. We can't hide our feelings, we have to face them.

Yes they were adults. Yet they still had young hearts, so fragile and so vulnerable ,so easy to break.

-I don't think you understand how much I love her - he said, as if the girl knew who he was talking about -If hiding my feelings gives me the assurance that she'll be there beside me, then I'd rather keep my mouth shut and never open them again.

-You'll only hurt yourself more than you hurt yourself now - she said in a soft voice - When you love someone, don't wait because you might lose them forever. And only regret will remain.

Neteyam stared at her intensely. His gaze pierced not only her body, but also her soul. She wasn't sure what to do, so she waited patiently, watching his actions as suddenly the whole world was plunged into darkness and nothing else mattered except the person in front of them.

As his hand moved slowly towards her, finally finding its place on her cheek, she didn't stop him. When her body was pulled closer to his torso, she let him. When his warm lips met hers in a gentle and sensual kiss, she melted.

With every minute that passed, Neteyam dreams became reality. Their dance from seemingly innocent and sweet turned into a full repertoire of heat and lust as their hands roamed both bodies, trying to memorize every shape or birthmark with their fingertips.

-You taste so sweet Y/n - he whispered into her mouth, his big hands rubbing her thighs.

-Teyam - she whimpered as he pulled away from her swollen lips, marking her neck with wet kisses.

Soon the boy knelt in front of her, but he still had to bend down to have convenient access to the girl's chest, which was hidden behind the nets forming her upper clothes. His fingers involuntarily glided over her round, firm breasts, agonizingly slowly tucking the bright material up, revealing one of her private parts.

Her nipples stiffened against the cool air, and a gasp accidentally fell out of Y/n's mouth. When Neteyam looked up, he met the girl's face ,who was watching his actions as if in a trance.

-How does it feel? - he asked close to her ear, pressing down on her ample breasts, his thumbs rubbing a pair of nipples.

-Pleasant, so very pleasant - she replied, closing her eyes, surrendering to the feeling.

-And now? - he asked again, after a moment kissing her chest, unable to stop himself from sucking on her soft skin where large red marks began to appear.

-Addictive - she confessed timidly, looking at the dark sky from under her half-open eyelids.

Neteyam merely grunted in delight, placing his hands on her spine, carefully pushing her backwards. Y/n settled down on the sand beneath her without protest, too curious to see what would happen next.

His lips didn't leave hers even for a moment, worshiping her little body that trembled with excitement and desire.

He took his time, exploring every inch of her body with his tongue. Her belly, her navel, her hips, her thighs, her knees, her calves, her ankles. Nothing has been missed.

-Will you let me? - he asked, his fingers gliding along her inner thighs, feeling how wet and warm they were.

-Of course, Teyam - she whispered, running her fingers through his hair, carefully grabbing his braid so that he could feel at least a little of what she felt right now.

The boy moaned softly, pressing their foreheads together. He was so sensitive that even the slightest touch of her fingers on his kuru sent shivers down his spine.

-No - he said suddenly, and Y/n looked at him with questioning eyes - Tonight, I want to worship you my Y/n, nothing more. It's only you that counts - he added, looking at her with his golden eyes, from which adoration poured out.

Young woman, smiling tenderly, kissed him one last time before getting comfortable, spreading her legs for Neteyam, who followed her movements. His hands massaging the skin on her ribs.

-I'm yours my Teyam. Do whatever you want with me - she said softly, and he almost got a whiplash.

Those words. He felt like he was dreaming again, but the warm skin under his fingers, the sand under his feet and the girl's rapid breaths made him realize that everything was real.

The dark-haired na'vi lay on his stomach, placing Y/n's legs on his broad shoulders. His lips pressed against her swollen womanhood, which was dripping with juices, twitching and begging to be taken care of.

Her body arched as he began to feast between her legs, ravenous, devouring everything her flower of femininity was giving him. She writhed under him, moaning and whimpering alternately, unable to stop herself. And when Neteyam slowly inserted two of his fingers inside her , filling her up to the brim, the girl couldn't stand it, screaming in ecstasy that took over her body.

Feeling the walls of Y/n tighten on his fingers, making him barely able to move them, he sped up, wanting to hear once again the beautiful sounds that were directed only to him, his tongue not even for a moment detached from her folds, riding lazily up and down, occasionally entwining around her clitoris.

And then he felt her sweet nectar, sweeter than anything else he had eaten or drank.

He felt enslaved, but he didn't care. As long as he could feast between her thighs, listening to her sweet moans and whimpers he didn’t care. 

Because his sinful dream became an even more sinful reality.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Steve's arm is an anchor, keeping you from drifting away from him. You lay awake, staring at the shadows on the wall, watching them shift with the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Each time you think to pull away, his embrace gets tighter yet his snores assure you of his slumber.

As the sun rises slowly, the hues rolling from blue to pink to orange to yellow, the tension in your muscles only winds tighter. You can't bear it anymore. The scent of his sweat or that glazed along your back.

You squeeze his arm and push your elbow into the mattress. As you attempt to sit up, he pulls you back and groans. You whimper and tap him frantically.

"Please," you squeak, "I have to..." get away from you, "...use the bathroom."

"Mmm," he grumbles and drags his arm off, falling flat on his back. You sit up as he stretches, the bed quaking with the intense span of his body. "Alright, sweetheart."

You get up, fighting not to run. That won't do anything but rouse him further. You go to the bathroom door and pause, peering through the doorway to your left and down the hall. Could you make it?

You think better of it. You're still unsteady. Your head is hollow and your limbs ache from the night spent rigid in his hold.

Instead, you seek safety behind the door. You flick the lock into place and look in the mirror. You turn on the faucet and splash lukewarm water in your face. You take your time, your mind racing for any sort of escape.

When at last you find the courage to emerge, you find the room empty. You grasp the doorframe and search the morning light. The bed is neatly made and there is no trace of that man. Oh god, are you going crazy? He was here, right?

Your sanity is assured you hear the scratch of the record player. The familiar notes of Otis Redding's infamous song begin to play. The careless and wistful tune turns ominous in your present circumstance.

You tiptoe down the hall, past the spare room and the room across from it where your grandfather's office once was. It's still there but you don't go in there often. You near the banister and touch the wooden orb atop the post. You peek down to the front door. So close.

"Sweetheart," Steve startles you as he emerges from the kitchen, "we should get started on today, huh?"

"I... uh, sure," you swallow and reluctantly part from the banister.

He wears a pair of dark jeans and a plain grey tank. You wring your hands and shuffle on your feet. What does he want from you? What do you do?

As he nears you, you wince and shy away. His brow twitches and you stop yourself. He touches your arm, caressing you as if the texture is something luxurious. He watches his fingertips brush over your skin and purrs.

"Why don't you work on breakfast and then we can figure out everything else."

"Everything else?" You fold your hands over your chest, shielding yourself as he toys with the strap of your nightgown.

"Well, we have company coming this afternoon. We have to get this place in shape. Oh, and maybe you can find a song to play."

"Company?" You echo weakly.

"My mother likes Mozart. She's a classic gal, but you could something more contemporary. Do you know any Patsy Cline?"

"Uh, I don't... I don't know, I... your mother?"

"I didn't want you to be nervous, sweetheart, but I think it's only right I introduce you. She's so happy to have a daughter-in-law. At last!"

"What?" Your heart thumps, louder and louder in your ears like that frightful Poe tale.

"It's okay. She's so nice and she's going to love you! I'll be here the whole time too." He takes your hands in his. So big and strong that you can't bring yourself to pull back. You stare at his chest, just along the top of the tank where his tattoo peeks out, "a nice old-fashioned girl like you, how could she hate you?"

"I... I'm not ready," you sputter.

"Not ready? I'm sure you can find something to wear. Something pretty. Red looks so nice on you, I saw a dress in the closet--"

"Steve," you say shrilly and struggle with him. He keeps your hands locked in his as your panic overflows, "please, I can't--"

"Oh, sweetheart, calm down. It's okay. How about once we get this place tidied up, we can go out and look at something new? We should have enough time to find you a pretty new dress--"

"Please, please, I can't--" you quaver as your eyes sting, "it's too much. It's... it's crazy!" You rip your hands away and clutch your head, "you're crazy! I don't want you here. You or your mother--"

"Sweetheart, just relax, you can't be getting yourself worked up."

"Worked up?! Worked up!! This is my home and--"

"This is our home," he grabs you by shoulders and shakes you. Your head snaps back and you bite your tongue, nearly choking on it. "Get a hold on yourself because I promise you," his voice deepens and rolls from his throat, "you don't want to get me worked up."

"I... I..." you babble.

"You can't act like this around my mother. It's unacceptable. Understand?" His thumbs press painfully against your shoulders, "if you keep on, I have no choice but to punish you so don't make me."

"Wha-- I--"

"Now, when mom is here, you call me sir, like a good wife, and you don't raise your voice," he brings a hand up to your chin, cradling it as his thumb reaches up your cheek, "and put a smile on your face, sweetheart. You are so precious when you smile."

You clamp your lips shut, holding back the shriek building in your chest. This can't be real. You know whatever he thinks is going on isn't but he just can't see it. It's all just so twisted and you have no idea how to untangle it.

🎹

You stand in front of the open closet. You chew your thumb as you stare aimlessly at the hangers. You don't want to do this. None of it. You want him to leave. You want this to all just be a nightmare.

You hover your hand over a hanger with a red dress but move away from it. No, not what he wants. You take out a navy dress with little silver flowers embroidered all over it.

You go to the bed and lay out the fabric, from far away it looks like simple polka dots. You take off your night gown and pull on a fresh pair of panties and your bra. You lift the dress and look it over one last time. The dread coils around your neck like a noose.

You unzip the back but a click interrupts your despair. You turn as the door opens and Steve enters, stopping short as he catches sight of you. His eyes stray from your face and you raise the dress to shield yourself.

He shudders and spreads his hand over his chest, running it down his torso as he exhales through his nose. He clenches his jaw and his cheek tics. He lifts his chin and his lip twitches dangerously.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I thought you were still in the shower," he says.

You stare at him blankly. He's changed. Dark slacks and a pristine white button-up. He holds a silk tie in his hand, his thumb rubbing the fabric firmly.

"Since you're not... you think you could help me out?" He lifts the tie and waggles it before you.

Your mouth is arid and itchy. You close it and nod. He doesn't budge. You're too nervous to ask him to leave. You turn away from him and quickly step into the dress, pulling it up your body and slipping your arms into the sleeves.

"Let me get this," he comes closer and you flinch but don't move away.

He steps behind you and his fingers brush the bare skin between the open zipper. A shiver ripples through you and he grabs the tab, pulling it up slowly. You hold your breath until he's done, spinning to make some space between you.

"I..." you look at the tie, "okay, I'll help."

"Sweetheart," he smiles and swoops the silk around his neck, "you're so good to me."

He angles to sit on the bed and tilts his head back, letting the tie hangs around his neck freely. You tiptoe towards him and take both ends. You sense his gaze on you, fervent and fiery.

"I promise," he reaches to tickle your hip, "I'll be just as good to you."

[syaolaurant]

My watercolor sharing (1) - Favorite art supplies ~

First of all, I am happy that my paintings have gradually been recognized in the fandom lately (//ω//) Thank you so much!!! 😍😍😍 Honestly I think I am nowhere near a professional watercolor artist and there's still so much to learn. But I also would love to share my watercolor process (and I'll try to post step-by-step tutorial after some of my paintings). I hope my sharing could be helpful in some way, and I also would love to learn more about painting methods & techniques with you all. So please feel free to discuss :"D

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This post only focuses on some of my favorite art supplies I always use for my paintings

I don't have the budget to experience different brands so I always have to search for what my favorite watercolor artist recommended before purchasing.

Paints: Currently I'm using 2 watercolor brands: Holbein and Van Gogh, which I prefer using Holbein as it is more transparent and glazes better. I think when it comes to watercolor, brands and price should be considered. Professional grade watercolor paints have totally different effect than student grade paint.

Paper: For watercolor, the results are different mostly depending on the paper you choose. When purchasing new paper I always look for at least 300 gsm (for full background paintings), which is more absorbent and I can add multiple layers on the same area without worry that it will buckle or get torn. My sizes of choice are a5 and a6, since I always feel more comfortable painting on small-size paper. And also mostly because I prefer drawing chibi characters 😅😅.  

When it comes to paper texture, I personally prefer using cold press paper because of its better absorbability and better for wet on wet technique. But the problem of cold press paper is its rough surface will make it hard for detail line work. Hot press paper, however, is better for precise brush detail and gives you more time to correct your mistakes.

Pen: Most of the time I use watercolor for lining details. But sometimes I get lazy, so I just use Pentel brushpen or Pigma Micron set of lining pens instead. In short, I use brushpen to make much more expressive lining (mostly for illustration) and a regular pen for quick paintings or short comics.

The left one I used brushpen, the right one I used regular pen for lining, you can see the difference.

I always finish my painting by highlight notable details with white gel-pen . My preferred is Uni-Ball UM 153 Signo Broad Point Gel Pen, this is also the brand recommended by Stephanie Law. She’s one of the most amazing watercolor artists and I admire her works so much. 

Finally, for brushes, I don't have any personal preference since I just buy whichever brush I feel comfortable and suitable for my super tiny paintings. My most frequently used size is size 0 -4, bigger brushes are mostly used for background and large area.

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So that's it for today I think :"D I will upload my WIP Progress for my lates "Sun Light" artwork tomorrow. Feel free to share your opinions in the reply, I'd love to learn from all of you :"D ~

Goodnight <3 ~