#candy ferocity

[mxbequiet]

ugh i love this show so much and i KNOW it's such a dumb thing to be mad over (especially after how spectacular their performance was) but the continuity error at the very end, where their beautiful, type 4, thick BLACK hair is all of a sudden DRY?!?! 😩 drives me fucking bananas lmfao. it just seems like such a weird thing to overlook after how amazing their costumes, makeup, and dance were. and it's supposed to be their tribute to Candy and kind of like, Pray's sendoff so...? idk idk I'll shut up now.

[twunkass]

dance party in heaven

[canonqueercharacters]

The canon queer character of the day is:

Candy Johnson, AKA Candy Ferocity, from Pose, who is a transgender woman.

[hannahwashere97]

To say I bawled my eyes out is an understatement.

You are unapologetic, loud, black, femme. All the things I try to hide about myself when I go out into the real world. You are all of them.

POSE   —   2.4 Never Knew Love Like This Before

[bullet-prooflove]

Sfogliatella - Chef Luca x Reader (The Bear)

Tagging: @Princesssunderworld @djlnkaled @kmc1989 @ineedrickgrimes @imjustheretoreads-blog

One of the things Luca loves the most about living on a boat is the sound of the waves lightly lapping against the hull as he falls asleep at night, your body curled up against his, his fingertips combing lightly through your hair.

In the mornings he leaves you sleeping in his sheets, your hair a bird’s nest from the previous night’s adventures, his lips brushing over your forehead before he starts his shift. He spends the rest of day thinking about you as he creates the most awe inspiring desserts based on the tours you take of the city during his days off.

You’ve been working as a translator for a few years now, residing in Copenhagen while attending meetings all over the world when required. You take to languages the same way he took to baking, with a ferocity that refuses to be sated.

It makes things interesting in the bedroom when Luca discovers he loves the way you speak Italian. You whisper the filthiest things against his skin as you ride him, your fingers tangled in his hair as he fucks up into you because you make him lose his god damn mind.

In the aftermath you lay draped across him, your fingertips tracing over the freckles on his chest as he asks you to tell him about the best dessert you’ve ever eaten.

“In Naples they have this thing called Sfogliatella.” You tell him, propping your chin up on his chest as you describe it. “It’s like a shell shape and the pastry is layered. It has a sweet custard-like filling made with semolina and ricotta. Sometimes they add chocolate or candied citrus fruit. It’s spectacular, I remember taking a bite of it and I swear I saw God.”

“That good huh?” He says, his fingertips tucking a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“I’ve never had anything like it.” You tell him, the edges of your mouth tipping up into a smile at the memory. “It’s one of the things I miss the most about living in Italy.”

He’s never been to Italy, he’d done some travelling before he landed in Copenhagen, shifted from restaurant to restaurant in pursuit of his passion but he’d never ended up there. He thinks he’d like to one day, that maybe the two of you could go together.

In the meantime he sets himself a new challenge.

Making the Sfogliatella.

The first thing he learns about the pastry is just how time consuming it is to make. It takes over twenty seven hours and that’s just the test samples, which go horribly because he’s still finding his footing.

He slaves over the recipe for months, making adjustments, consulting with Carmy and experimenting with different fillings to get the right texture and consistency.

“This is starting to feel like a proposal pastry.” Carmy remarks during their seventh Zoom call, while they’re discussing the merits of using apricots or lemons for the centre and Luca doesn’t respond.

He doesn’t know when the pursuit of the perfect Sfogliatella  became more than just a challenge. He thinks it was the day you took him to the Glyptoteket, your fingers linked through his as the two of you explored the Winter Garden. He can’t explain just how stunning it had been, stepping into that oasis, being surrounded by that plush greenery. He’d sat there for hours sketching ideas in his notebook while you explored the other exhibits. He’d been lacking in inspiration at the time, he’d confided that to you the night before because he’d become frustrated with the menu he was working on and you’d brought him to this place filled with beauty and magic. It was at that  moment he realised just how much you understood him, you’d known exactly what he needed even when he didn’t.

“Good luck.” Carmy signs off and Luca’s left to make a decision between apricots and lemons without him.

It’s on the eve of your birthday that he finally achieves perfection. He carefully packs the pastries away to take home for tomorrow when he’s going to make every single one of your dreams come true.

When you wake up the next morning on his boat it’s to the scent of Earl Grey tea and freshly baked pastries. You can’t believe your eyes when you sit down at the kitchen table and he sets down the Sfogliatella in front of you. He will never forget the expression on your face when you bite in into it, the look of joy, the moan of appreciation.

“It’s better than the one in Naples.” You tell him, pressing your fingertips to your lips because you’re starting to get emotional. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“You deserve the world.” He tells you as he gets down on one knee in front of you, taking your hand in his. “And I want to give that to you as your personal chef and your husband.”

You laugh then because you’d never imagined when you’d taken the job in Copenhagen that you’d end up falling in love with a man as wonderful as Luca, one that has spent months striving to make you feel so special on your big day.

“Yes.” You say as he slides the engagement ring on your finger. “Of course I’ll marry you Luca.”

Love Luca? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[fandomtherapy44]

Dean x reader Oneshot! : Try to be quiet

Summary: Dean and Y/n have a little morning of spice together.

Warnings: SMUT 18+

Divider from

Firefly Graphics

Reblog Banner and 18+ Banner From

cafekitsune

WC: 500

AN: Hey ya'll, so this is just basically a quick smut with Dean enjoy!

I blink my eyes open at the kitsch hotel art hanging on the wall and I feel Dean’s big strong arms around me. We had just finished a case and last night we had our own little celebration. Sweat was stuck to my skin like sticky glue it also being summer in Georgia did help. We had a couple of rounds last night and we finished off with me giving him a slow and drawn-out hand job. I could feel the outline of his cock pressing against my backside due to us still being naked. His fingers slip down feeling up and down my body.

“Mhh Dean what are you doing.” I groaned out starting to get turned on. He goes up and nips my ear.

“I am returning the incredible favor you gave me last night.” He licks a spot on my neck and starts to suck on it like it was sweet candy. His hands go to my chest finding my stiff nipples licks his fingers and makes slow circles on them.

“Dean! Keep going!” I moaned loudly keeping his hand steady.

“Shh try to keep quiet Sam is in the next room over.” He kisses me and our tongues meet in a tough fight he wins. One hand goes to my folds. It goes down the slit at a fast pace it already getting pretty wet.

“This is one of the many things I love about Y/n always so ready for my touch.” His thumb goes to my cilt. My body in response thrusts up to it begging for more. He uses the slickness to rub and to make a pace that I love. With his thumb on my clit his fingers go to my opening. One plunges in deep. My pussy is still easy to go into due to last night.

“Dean you are always going to take number one in this.” I get lost in the euphoria going on between my legs. His finger makes slow pumps in. My soft warm walls clenching with each one. Wanting it stay there more and more slickness is being let out each time.

“Can I insert a second one?” He asks his green eyes staring into mine. I nod with ferocity. He adds it in. They go faster and faster. His other hand moves back up onto my nipple to really get me there. I can feel I was almost there. “Are you ready?” I nod yes. He speeds up hitting my G-spot and that does it for me.

“Ahh! Ahh” I moaned out breathing deeply. My orgasm spread through my body. I turn to him to kiss him sweetly. “Thank you.”

“Anytime sweetheart.” 

Dean and I finally get out of bed and get ready to meet Sam at breakfast.

“Okay, you two please remember there are other people when you have your… fun time,” Sam said half embarrassed and grossed out to think about his brother like… that.

I guess I did need to be quiet.

[hannahwashere97]

Candy! 💖🌈

POSE - Episode 2x04

[sgiandubh]

Have you seen the official Getty pictures of Sam and Eleanor from tonight and this below? I’m not sure how to best express my feelings but it’s making me question the special chemistry I thought S and C had and believing they are a couple. I’m trying not to be sad but I’m questioning everything I have believed.

https://twitter.com/cashmyeshaybabe/status/1719822928714596696?s=46&t=PwRUwYJkImTt7ctbAQQkKw

Thanks for a weary and distraught shipper.

(*Testing 1, 2. Testing 1, 2, 3. Can everyone hear me?*... is the Austen-esque style civilized enough for your crowd?!)

Dear Weary and Distraught Anon,

I have Reasons to believe you are neither Weary, nor Distraught (or a Shipper, for that matter), since you are making The Rounds in the Hope that you will Elicit a New Convert, or at least Stir Shite like it's God's Work. Let me, therefore, Inform you that @bat-cat-reader has Blocked you on the spot, which I believe prompted this Last Resort solution of turning to me.

I happen to share the Same Sentiments as you, Anon. I am also Weary of People Like You, immediately popping in our inboxes with your Puerile, huffing and puffing Fake Tantrums, every Single Time S or C get out of Their Bubble and have a public apparition. And I am also Distraught at the Very Thought that People Like You still think we are Candid enough to even consider your intellectually Precarious Arguments, even for a Single Second.

These are the Earth-Shattering pictures that ruined your Evening, Anon:

Exhibit 1: a bit of eye-candy for 'your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses'. Promo-shtick 101.

Exhibit 2, or as your Chief, the Dimwit would dementedly shout every time one of you, Anons, makes it alive back to Mordor: MARRIT! FUCKING! (I believe the Third Interjection in her Dedicated and Minimalistic Vocabulary was...MARRAPAZ? 🙄)

Ho-hum. He doesn't even touch Tomlinson in this second picture, Anon.

Have a chicle, Anon. Then, repeat after me:

Eleanor Tomlinson is C's Good Friend. C has publicly okayed the project on X when they started shooting the series.

Eleanor Tomlinson is MARRIT to Will Owen since 2022. Their first marriage anniversary was Paper.

Eleanor Tomlinson and Sam Heughan have On-screen Chemistry only. They do not have a Ten Year-long History of Innuendos and decently substantiated occurrences, allowing for a pretty Clear Theory of life/love status - unlike Those Other Two you are so readily doubting, Liar Anon.

When you are done repeating those, please write 120 times in a row the following:

I have the attention span of a Highland midge and the ferocity of a rattlesnake.

We're done now, Anon. Please pack your belongings hit the Copy/Paste buttons for a Fuming Anon to Dimwit citing All Subsequent Comments to this Post and kindly (but quickly) see Yerself Oot.

[tashacee]

Ok, hear me out. I'm replaying AoC and got to the part where age is monching rocks with Daruk. Which got me thing. How many boys are rock munchers? Age and wild confirmed rockers, Time has enough fae grimlin energy to monch. Hyrule? Probably not. His poor teeth couldn't stand it. So I offer the idea oh great master. Aspect of a Rock

Wild takes Age under his metaphorical wings. THIS is his second child. Wind has another brother to add to the smother pileat night. He's just so happy to have another brother. Wilds off humming as he cooks, keeping an eye on Hyrule who tries to help, but is gently moved away. Hyrule moves off to talk to Legend as Age meanders over to help with dinner, but freezes at a horrible bringing MONCH/CRUNCH behind him. Spins around so fast his hat lightly slaps Legend. Eyes enormous, Wild freezes, rock in hand as he offers one to Age. Hyrule begins to sign with a terrifying ferocity only to stare in horror as Age just.. MONCH. Now completely distressed for their health, he turns to Time to get them to. Just. STOP and his brain freezes. Time, confidant, Master of the Ocarina, Stong, wise mysterious leader is holding a rock. A grin full of pure gremlin and teasing, he cronches. Nope, Poor Hyrule begins to sign with vengeance. 'SPIT THEM OUT ALL OF YOU YOUR TEETH WILL BREAK.' Delighted grins form on Wild, Age and Time as they in scary harmony bite. Wind and Spirit, absolutely delighted runs to grab a rock, only to be halted by a Frantic Wars. Twilight stared at his mentor with baleful eyes. Four collectively, begins quietly debating if those three have Goron in them (Is it even poasible? Debates begin in full, Four has officially checked out). Sky is just confused as Fi chiming in laughter. Dinner was late, but oh, so worth it.

(Spoilers, it was just rock candy, but the possibility to prank them was too tempting)

Anyways, that's all. Have a great day and drink some water😶‍🌫️ You can ignore this if you want

honestly I have nothing more to add this is wonderful and I love it. Also: one of them was eating real rocks and not candy but they will NEVER say who!

[topazadine]

Writing Notes: Seasons

I noticed a few leaves falling from my tree, which means only one thing: it's time.

Time for fall. My favorite, blessed, most beloved season. Pumpkin spice lattes! Candy apples! Cherry pie! Haunted houses! Chilly weather that makes me snuggle up into my hoodie! Candy!

And, of course, it means that I have to share some writing notes with you about seasons.

So today, we're going to share a few different perspectives on seasons. We'll talk about the "traditionally accepted" associations for seasons, but also share other options and how you can infuse them into your work.

Why Use Seasons at All?

You don't have to if you don't want to. Maybe you want to focus entirely on the plot. But, you might add some hints of it for these reasons.

Gives a sense of place. This allows you to show how this place is impacted by particular seasons. Winter in Kampala, Uganda, is going to be wildly different than in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Offers worldbuilding options. In a fantasy setting, seasons are an element of worldbuilding. (Just look at Game of Thrones.) There may be different dangers according to seasons, or unique holidays that can allow you to demonstrate how people interact with this world. Provides templates for description. You can get a lot of mileage out of showing a nice grassy field in spring or the leaves fluttering down during autumn. Don't go on for ages, but you can certainly add a few little flickers here and there. (just remember to put them in the right places for maximum momentum.) Deepens characterization. How characters feel about and interact with the seasons can tell us a lot about who they are. Someone who loves winter could love it because then they can ski, or because they want to cuddle up and be left alone. Someone who loves summer might like lounging around on the porch eating ice cream, or they might like it because it's time to go surfing! Suggests new challenges. If your character lives in Montana, winter is going to be horribly cruel. "The Hunter's Wife" by Anthony Doerr is all about how the seasons challenge the characters and help them grow. But in your story, it might be summer that's the worst. Or fall, or spring, or all of them but in different ways. Creates subtle symbolism. The season of your story can use certain symbolism depending on what kind of plot you have and what your overall theme is, as we'll discuss now.

So, now that we understand why seasons are important, let's look at each one and consider why it might be the best time for your story.

I will note that I am coming from the perspective as a person in the Midwestern United States. What I associate with the seasons, particularly the descriptions, may be utterly irrelevant to you depending on where you are from. If I made a wholly comprehensive list considering the entire world, we'd be here all day.

Keep that in mind and workshop some options for your setting and personal associations.

I'm not omniscient, so take what seems useful to you and leave the rest.

Spring

Ah, the flowers are blooming, the world is warming up, and we're finally crawling out of doors now that we're not buried in slush. Spring is generally associated with positive emotions, but there could be some dangers here, too.

To get some good symbolism, focus on spring's unique place between two fixed, more stable seasons, where we know what to expect: winter and summer.

There is a fragility and shifting balance in spring that can veer good or bad depending on what you're trying to show. Spring also has a sense of expectation, which can pay off (good summer) or fail (icky bad summer).

Associations

Positive

Warmth

Renewal

Hope

Rebirth

Childhood

Innocence

Potential

Change

New beginnings

Reunions

Optimism

Negative

Fluctuating emotions (spring can be quite unpredictable!)

New challenges on the horizon

Feeling exposed

"Nakedness"

Vulnerability

Growing pains

Feeling underappreciated, like a stepping stone to summer

Ferocity (like intense spring storms)

The fragility of life (not every baby animal will survive)

Descriptions

Positive

Wildflowers pushing through the soil

Baby animals

Trees blooming

New blades of grass

Budding leaves

Sunny skies

Life-affirming rain

Warming breezes

Slightly chilly nights

Weak sunrises

Days growing longer

Richly scented flowers

Negative

Sudden cold snaps

Dreary weather

Grey skies

Hard rain that traps one inside

Snow (a reminder of the past)

Flooding

Melting snow revealing last year's trash

Cold mornings

Shivering

Being too hot or too cold

Hard ground

Mud

Summer

Summer fun! Those lucky enough to live by a beach want to splash in the water or go kayaking above the cool waves. We can drink an ice cold soda as we head to outdoor festivals. Kissing as the summer frogs sing a chorus, or partying late into the night: how beautiful!

But summer can be awful, too. Too much beer at a festival and you throw up everywhere, or too much humidity and you die of heatstroke. There's a reason that gun violence goes up when it's hotter: people are pissy and itching for a fight.

There can be a great push-pull here as characters attempt to moderate themselves while also indulging their sense of adventure.

Associations

Positive

Adventure

Childhood

Freedom

Exploration

Warmth

Togetherness

Community spirit

Serendipitous meetings

Happiness

A sense of endlessness (longer daylight hours)

Puppy love

Negative

Long agonizing waits (again, longer daylight hours)

Exhaustion

Overwhelm

Oppression (sociological or environmental)

Excess

Sloth (if characters like to lounge)

Lack of control

Rage

Frustration

Disappointment

Descriptions

Positive

Droning insects

Fireflies (depending on area)

Warmth

Blue skies

Bright green leaves

Active wildlife

Butterflies

Cool drinks

Unexpected cool breezes

Fresh fruit

Whirring fan

Outdoor music

Sunshine

Beautiful sunsets

Negative

Loud, cramped festivals

High humidity

Extreme heat

Dehydration

Glaring sunlight with no shelter

Tornadoes/summer storms

Mosquitos

Broken fan

Sweating

Baking trash (ugh sorry)

Sore joints from the humidity

Spoiled/soggy food

Flat fizzy drinks

Autumn

Okay, I'll try not to be too biased here, so I'll point out that autumn can be both beautiful and terrible. On one hand, we've got the cooler weather, the gorgeous foliage, and the contentment of harvest time: a job well done, and a time to rest.

Many people feel like this is when they are closest to their past loved ones and can commune with those long gone, which can be a good thing or a bad thing. It's a good time for when someone is putting their demons to rest and moving on.

We can also feel cold, dread, and fear during autumn. The nights are getting longer, and there could be all sorts of scary things in the shadows. They, too, are gearing up for the freezing winter months - and they're hungry.

Associations

Positive

Maturity

Adulthood

Rest

Slowing down

Introspection

Thinning of the veil (Halloween)

Spirituality

Retrospection

Harvest and bounty

Change

Reflection

Negative

Fear

Dread

Decay

Lost opportunities

Dwindling time

Anxiety

Limitations

Closer to the end

Feeling one's age

The unknown

Breaking down

Past coming back to haunt one

Descriptions

Positive

Falling leaves

Brisk wind

Crackling campfires

Warm drinks

Busy animals

Frost sparkling on grass

Seeing your breath in the air

Freshly baked pie

Crisp apples

Decorative pumpkins

Cozy hoodies/cloaks

Mulled wine and spices

Harvested grain

Baked bread

Sudden warm days

Negative

Fog shrouded, isolated roads

Creeping cold

Howling animals

Dark nights

Rotting fruit

Bitter wind through cracks in the house

Cold rain

Spoiled grain

Meager harvest

Insufficient clothing

Dead creatures

Skeletons

Icy mist

Barren trees

Creaking houses

Winter

Winter gets the short end of the stick when it comes to symbolism. People focus on the horrible things (cold, loss, sadness) without considering the positives: family, togetherness, comfy mittens, warm hot chocolate and presents.

After all, humans have developed our very own symbolism just to cheer the time up; winter celebrations happen all around the world. You've got so many options here, both in terms of themes, activities, and descriptions. What you focus on will determine how your story feels.

Associations

Positive

Togetherness

Community

Family

Resilience

Perserverence

Joy and whimsy

Caring for others

Possibilities

Planning

Companionship (or solitude)

Optimism

Pushing one's limits

Quietude

Introspection

Better days ahead

Negative

Cold

Nature's fury

Helplessness

Poverty (in any form)

Feeling trapped

Unpleasant relatives

Death

Old age

Broken relationships

Barrenness

Struggle

Endings

Sorrow

Lack of empathy

Hatred

Descriptions

Positive

Roaring fires

Soft heavy blankets

Thick socks

Cozy mittens

Jams and jellies

Hot drinks

Presents

Winter decorations

Christmas cookies

Candles

Softly drifting snow

Clear night skies

Conversations in another room

Clinking glasses

Mulled cider

The contrast between chilly room and warm blanket

Dead quiet nights

Negative

Freezing cold

Driving snow

Stuck in big snow drifts

Tense muscles

Dry skin

Running nose

Barren cupboards

Tense conversations with distant relatives

Frozen hands

Harsh wind

Stuffy rooms

Cold floors

Animals scratching at the door

Lack of ventilation

Can't get warm

Shivering

So there are my thoughts on the seasons! Hopefully this sparked something for you.

Now, perhaps, you will consider reading my book (now cheaper than ever!)

9 Years Yearning is a whirlwind look at two men growing up and finding themselves - and each other, wink wink. It features Uileac, an orphan determined to protect his little sister and become the best soldier he can be. However, this is complicated by Orrinir, a blustery young man whose bravado hides a surprisingly sensitive heart. In just under 34k words, they experience the whole range of human emotions - and beat a few people up. Ooh la la.

If you do decide to read 9 Years Yearning, don't forget to leave a review!

It can even be a bad review if you want. Amazon uses ratings of all shapes and sizes to determine whether a book is worth getting shown to other potential readers.

Lack of reviews = Jeff Bezos breaks my door down with a baseball bat and drags me to the Hell Sphere.

So please, I have dogs that want their snackies. For $2 and a few nice words, YOU can help buy this small child her favorite treat (bully sticks).

[hannahwashere97]

Candy and her hammer. 💖🌈🔨

It’s Hammer Time, Bitch !

[monicahar]

the wanderer despises the day of love; valentine's, was it? whatever, it's just a foolish mortal event that he swears to never participate on. he finds each nook and cranny of sumeru completely abhorrent when the day comes. sucking each other's faces in public? are you serious? handing each other cheesy flowers and gifts? what? and the irritable songs he'd heard that were sung to people perched on their windows and balconies—not much unlike a pathetic attempt of some animal's mating call? disgusting. absolutely puke worthy material.

which is why you're led to nothing but disappointment when he doesn't even mention the name of the special occasion you've looked forward to.

“it's today, huh?” he says airily to no one in particular, as if he could care less when his eye catches onto the fact that there were more flowers and bouquets around than usual, and there's a lot of those heart stuff around, much to his dismay and unfortunately keen observation.

red ceramic mugs, heart shaped candies, heart balloons, tulips and other florals with much more vibrant colours than the normalcy of contrast he's used to seeing around the city. it grates his nerves.

he hates this. all of this.

“hey—wanderer!”

[name].

he says the sacrilegious name in his mind, turning around to meet your approaching form whilst struggling to keep his lips from creeping up a smile.

his solemn and hate-filled day is immediately better with your appearance, but he'll never mention that outloud.

“and what's got you here, pipsqueak?” the former harbinger eyes you up and down, finding the whole conversation immediately suspicious with that nervous smile on your face. he'd also be an idiot not to notice the slight shake in your voice when you called out to him. fortunately for him, he's far from one.

although, all that ferocity and harshness of his—gone in an instant.

a bouqet messily bunched up with pink and red flowers is shoved onto his face before he could even add another insult to his less-than accomodating greeting—his eyes widening as he stares at the petals that seem to somehow also stare back with how small the proximity is.

wait, don't these colours mean...ugh! the power you hold against him is demeaning! he curses mentally as he tries to pull down his hat to quickly hide the rising of temperature that would show on his pale face.

in a split second, meeting your bashful face behind the main focus of his line of vision, which is hilariously slowly turning into the same hue of the flowers you're gripping. he wants to laugh at something—your face, the whole ordeal of foolish gift giving, the evident and embarrassing romanticism laced in your actions—but instead, he finds himself utterly speechless. unfathomably impossible to let out words at the moment.

no one had ever done this before, and he had never expected anything from anyone at anything at all.

muttering a near silent gratitude towards you, he gently accepts your generous gift, his first instinct being to put the flowers onto his face to have a small whiff. he deliberately ignores the cute and expectant look you have on your face, probably trying to search for a new reaction from him.

aha, as expected. he smirks against the flowers, hiding his smile in the bouquet. they're fake and scented, that much he could pick up, but he couldn't bring himself to return it to you and complain. he knows it's within your capability to get real flowers, but you probably got these fake ones because you both know that he'd just forget to water them.

it's the thought behind it that counts, even if he preferred something real. i mean...it's not like he'd water it everyday for your sake or something, right? pfft. who does that anyway? haha...

...?

staring at the bouqet for a second and then back to you—he promptly pats your head gently. once, twice, before he runs off once again, leaving you to melt in a puddle after his small act of affection.

he's a certified and avid hater of this type of love and whatnot but perhaps...valentine's isn't so bad after all when it's with someone he cherishes.

just a short drabble for my man lel happy valentines everyone!

[dirtylittlecubbs]

[08:38] - Candy

𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐

“Hyung, did you buy those candies I put on the grocery list?” Jisung asks, searching through the cupboards for said bag of candies. “I did. Top cupboard in the corner.” Minho calls back to him from the living room. Jisung smiles triumphantly when he finds the bag of candies right where Minho said it'd be.

After a bit of a struggle opening the bag and remembering scissors were invented for a reason, he pops a small cat shaped candy into his mouth with a satisfied hum. Grape flavored, Minho’s favorite. Suddenly, Minho walks into the kitchen. “Want one?” Jisung asks the older man, lightly nudging the bag of candies in his direction. “Sure” Minho replies but he doesn't stop to take the bag.

Instead he keeps walking around the island, making his way towards Jisung. Jisung looks at him in confusion, turning around to face him as Minho strolls up beside him. He's about to hand him the bag of candies when Minho's hand snakes around his waist and pulls his body into his. Before Jisung can even comprehend what's happening Minho connects their lips.

Jisung's brows furrow in surprise and confusion for only a second before he begins reciprocating the kiss. He never passes up a chance to kiss Minho. A shiver runs down his spine and into the pit of his stomach when Minho's tongue slips into his mouth. Minho's tongue moves around Jisung's mouth like he moves around his own house. Knowingly. Every surface familiar to the touch from having been there so often for so long.

Minho's kisses always make Jisung's head fuzzy, their lips slotted perfectly together, moving in tandem to the beat of whoever's heart is beating fastest at the moment. They light a fire within him that has heat flooding through his veins in a matter of seconds. Jisung has to grip onto Minho's biceps to try and steady himself.

A soft moan escapes Jisung's lips as Minho steps closer, pushing him back against the counter, successfully trapping him. His grip on Minho's arms tighten when Minho hooks his right arm past Jisung's waist and down his backside to softly knead the flesh of his ass. His left hand leaves his waist to gently cup the back of his head. Minho tilts Jisung's head to the side more, deepening the kiss. Another moan tries to escape but it's completely swallowed by Minho's mouth. When Minho finally pulls away Jisung is left red and panting.

Jisung looks up at Minho with hooded eyes and the smirk on Minho's lips only makes the heat in his stomach burn stronger. That's when he notices it. “You took my candy,” Jisung pouts, his burning red cheeks puffing out with the action. He looks like a tomato Minho thinks. Minho's smirk only widens, a giggle hiding at the back of his throat. Jisung's eyes fall to the piece of purple candy poking out from between Minho's lips before it disappears within his mouth again.

When Jisung locks eyes with him again an idea sparks to life in his head. A smirk forms on his lips and he doesn't give Minho any time to question him. Jisung grabs the back of his neck and connects their lips again. This time Minho is taken by surprise but not for long before he returns the kiss with just as much ferocity as Jisung.

His left hand finds Jisung's ass again, trying to pull him closer but Jisung presses his knee between Minho's legs, pushing against his semi-hardened crotch to keep a small distance between them, which only confuses Minho. Minho isn't given much time to ponder though when Jisung nips at his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth before letting it go.

When Jisung pulls away, Minho keeps leaning in, chasing after Jisung's lips again. “Nu-uh” Jisung playfully chastises Minho, putting a finger in his face and waving it side to side. Then, taking advantage of Minho's confusion, pushes him off himself, grabs the bag of candies and runs out of the kitchen and towards Minho's bedroom.

Minho was only able to understand what Jisung was doing after he caught a glimpse of the piece of candy he stole pressed firmly between Jisung's wide grin. He didn't even realize he took it back. Minho smiles, amused by the younger man's antics before he chases after him.

.

.

.

.

.

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

╭✧────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ *.☽ .* ☆ﾟ. ──────────✧╮

@skzms @stayconnecteed @starlostastronaut

╰✧────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ *.☽ .* ☆ﾟ. ──────────✧╯

Note: This was inspired by Minho's weird desire to pass food from his mouth to his members' mouths.

© 143-hornycore 2024 | Do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works onto other platforms without my permission.

[okartnerd]

Fic based on a rp me and friends did, Character analysis of Quackeret

@the-quackity-competition

By this point, Eret and Quackity were living with each other. Sure, they each had their own house, but Leo’s stuff was strewn between the two houses and each of them had a room in the other’s house. Quackity had already made a few off handed jokes about the fact they were practically raising the kids together, and he wasn’t wrong. They made a decent team, Leo was one of the better behaved eggs of the server, and Quackity had them both chasing around five awful toddlers. There was a reason Bitchass was named Bitchass. Still, all things considered, they did a good job of raising them so far. Even if Quackity was and forever would be a bitch. 

The one good thing about living with Quackity was that he was, of all things, predictable. Whenever an argument started, or Quackity decided to start moping again, you were walking in a labyrinth, not a maze. After about five rounds of dealing with him, you knew the path was leading right to the center and you had to get out of the other side. 

It wasn’t a dance, or anything rhythmic like that, he would come up with new ways to weasel around a topic or put himself in the right, even in repeat circumstances, but it was predictable when the conversation would end and exactly where everyone would stand at the end of it. Eret started to be able to participate in the conversation without hearing the other side.

Quackity had started pacing and moving, throwing his hands around in frustration. He had scrolled back up in the group chat again, to see again *exactly* what Sneeg and Slime and El Quackity wanted to do with his dead body. It fucked him up like this every time, but trying to pry him away from looking at it was like prying a kid from candy. Eret had given up a long time ago and just waited for Quackity to get so upset about it that he stops, like he would one day.

Today was not that day.

“They want fucking *pictures* of my body. *Pictures*. They’re gloating about killing a man!” Quackity started pulling on his own hair.

Eret was disturbed the first about three times she heard this, still worried about it, but it had gotten to the point of just plain annoying to hear Quackity talk about it. Eret let out a noise of disgust, then adjusted her hair, turning off her hearing aids on the way. 

Maybe they’d feel a little guilty about ignoring Quackity, if it weren’t for the same conversation over and over. It was probably traumatizing, yeah, but Quackity was forcing himself to look at it, it was his own issue. 

And maybe Eret would care a bit more if he knew Quackity wasn’t lying to his face. 

Quackity made a habit of lying with such ferocity that even Leo was starting to pick up on it. Even with the stupidest lies imaginable, like Quackity’s broken arm, which he still refused to see a doctor about. To be fair, Quackity said every doctor on the server had threatened his life, but who’s to tell if that’s a lie as well. Eret wanted to know how Quackity broke his arm, with how strongly he was clinging to that lie, the truth must have been something vile. Maybe someone Quackity cared about broke it, maybe he did it doing something he really shouldn’t have. Any way it went, Eret had learned that Labrynth wasn’t as easy to find the exit of as others. He’d need a back door to get that answer. 

After about five more minutes of just sitting and waiting, making a couple of agreeing noises when Quackity panted to gather his angry breath. Eret noticed Quackity calm down and met Quackity’s eyes. She scooted over, making room for him on the couch. “Sit. You’re tired.” She mumbled and looked his face over. Just keep hugging right and you’ll get to the end of the labyrinth from here.

Quackity stilled from his argument with the cold air, then slowly moved to sit next to Eret. Quackity leaned back against the arm of the couch and hissed, mumbling something that was about how tired he was of Sneeg and all of them. Eret didn’t need to turn on her hearing aids to know.

Eret reassured Quackity that he would keep him safe, then nudged Quackity’s leg. “No one’s hurting you or the kids again. They’ll have to go through me.”

Quackity shifted to lay on his side and stare forward for a few minutes, just sitting in the silence. At the end of the labyrinth. 

Eret turned on his hearing aids, listening for how this conversation always ended. She smiled at the idea of going out for a drink with Quackity and drunkenly stumbling home again, as was their usual. 

Quackity sat up on the couch, looking at Eret with eyes wetter than they usually were at the end of this conversation. Sure, he’d tear up when he was angry, but he had had long enough to wipe them. Quackity wiped his own tears and pulled at his hair again, then got up. “Do you want something to eat?” He mumbled, already stumbling to the fridge.

Eret tilted his head, considering they had already had dinner not too long ago. They got up from the couch, stretching out their wings a bit. “I’m not hungry.” 

Quackity started making food anyway, getting out steaks for Eret and noodles for himself. Creature of habit, Quackity barely ate anything besides noodles. Eret rolled her eyes and sat back down while Quackity cooked. Quackity returned to Eret’s side and put down the steak in front of her, his own food nowhere to be seen. Maybe he ate while he was cooking, noodles to take less time to cook than steak, it probably wasn’t anything to worry about. Hopefully.

Quackity sat down on the couch again, glancing at the food every so often. 

Eret laughed and stood up, taking the steak to the fridge, “I think you’re the one who needs his hearing checked.” She teased, opening the fridge to find the noodles, still warm, just sitting there. Odd.

She turned around to ask Quackity when Quackity cut her off. “You need a drink.” Quackity stretched his wings out, then went over to the cabinet by the fridge and pulled out the wine. 

And now they were back on script. Quackity suggests the night club, they go drink the most vile thing they can find, then giggle and laugh on the couches downstairs before stumbling up the ladder and collapsing at home. Routine, simple, couldn’t fuck it up. 

Having the alcohol already in the house was a change of setting, but Eret could improv. She smiled and took the cherry wine Quackity got specifically for her, then retrieved some wine glasses from the cabinet. Eret poured half the damn bottle in each one, then passed the glass to Quackity.

Quackity gave Eret a look he wasn’t used to, then wrapped an arm around her and took her to the couch. Weird, with how much they had pounded bottles of wine before, even standing, but fine. She could get up to refill their glasses, if Quackity was feeling that lazy. She started sipping her wine, but Quackity set his to the side, not even touching it.

This was all not right, an unease that made Eret almost angry at that confusion. “What’s wrong?” She set her own drink down, looking Quackity up and down for why he was being so miserable.

Quackity met her eyes through her sunglasses, slowly laying down so he could look up at the ceiling. He shrugged and wrapped both his arms around himself as best as he could. “I haven’t been wanting to drink lately.”

Eret laughed at that. It was comical really, to hear. Quackity downed twelve bottles of wine not too long ago, and now he wasn’t in the mood for even one. “Quackity, you’ve been getting drunk almost daily. You’re practically an alcoholic, what do you mean?”  

Quackity laughed, “I don’t- I don’t even-“ he shivered from head to toe, then sat up fully and looked at them directly, “look. Just-“ he got up and started pacing again. Maybe this would become a new labrynth to traverse, but currently neither of them knew the passages to this one, so here they were, Eret listening while Quackity rambled.

Quackity pulled on his hair while he talked, “I don’t want to drink and it’s freaking me the fuck out. I don’t- I’m not tempted to go over there in the morning and just pass out.” He gestured to the nightclub, “it’s weird, for me. It’s-“ Quackity laughed humorlessly and covered his face, curling in on himself. He mumbled something into his hands.

“Come again?” Eret called out.

“I think dying cured me of being a drunk.”

Eret snorted at that concept and got up, stepping in front of a still pacing Quackity. “You’re tired, let’s lay down.”

Quackity tried to stiffen his body to be harder to move, giving Eret sad eyes between his fingers, but Eret picked him up with complete ease. 

Quackity went down shockingly quietly to bed. He stayed in the bed, just staring at the ceiling.

He was swimming in a ocean of whatever his brain was dragging to his thoughts and tonight was not going to be a good night. He wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t going to rest. He couldn’t, he was stuck exactly where he was, remembering how sick he was a few days ago.

Quackity wouldn’t have minded if Eret or Leo dropped dead.

The nausea he felt from the memory dug into his stomach, strong enough that he rolled over and hid himself into a pillow. He got up and grabbed a fistful of diamonds, then stepped out of the room. 

Eret grabbed him by the shoulder, having waited by the door. Still predictable as ever.

“You’re going to bed.” She said with finality.

“I’m not sleeping.” 

“Too bad.” Eret grabbed him and carried him back inside, “I can do this all night.”

Quackity grunted when he hit the bed, “you need to sleep at some point.”

Eret chuckled and laid down next to him, “fine.” 

Quackity glanced at him, then grumbled something and rolled over to lay on his stomach, stuffing his face into a pillow.

[hannahwashere97]

💖💖💖

[rebeliz7]

AUGUST - DRABBLE #6

Drabble 6 - August, crush

Throwback to Daisy’s first days in the Compound

…

Daisy is--a natural. Wanda couldn't understand Natasha’s and Fury’s insistence on bringing the girl to the Compound, but now that she’s had the opportunity to meet her she can only agree with her wife, and admit that Daisy belongs here. 

She’s smart, a hacker that often challenges Tony’s ability in the topic. She has enough childish energy in her to rival that of Sam’s, and the patient of a saint when it comes to listening to Steve’s old war stories. 

“She’s young.” She tells Natasha as they see Daisy smiling like a kid in a candy store, when she’s being introduced to Clint and you. 

“She is.” Natasha smiles, her hand barely touching Wanda’s as they share a look across the lobby. “She’s got heart.”

Your laughter reaches their ears, prompting them to look over where you’re blushing, and Daisy is staring at you with a proud little smile on her lips. 

“Is she flirting?” Wanda asks, and Natasha chuckles to herself. 

“You don’t need to sound so jealous, babe.” Natasha teases, and Wanda looks at her. “I’m sure you’re still Y/N’s favorite.”

Wanda rolls her eyes playfully and welcomes Nat’s wanton lips, and the comment is filed away for the time being. 

It means nothing, she tells herself, she’s married and Natasha is the only person you consider family now that you have no one left on your own. She’s protective of you, as one would be with extended family. 

…

Daisy’s crush on you is so ridiculously obvious, that it starts to rub her in all the wrong ways. 

It’s unprofessional, she’d argue whenever Nat would laugh at whatever crass comment comes out of Clint’s mouth. 

… 

“It’s not like Y/N’s even picking up on it.” Kate chuckles one afternoon when you’re sparring with Steve on the mats, and Daisy is paying more attention to you than to Natasha's lesson of the day. 

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying something she shouldn’t, but that crawling hot feeling of jealousy washes over her skin like a boiling blanket that she can't get rid off for the rest of the day. 

She huffs to herself at any given moment when the memory of Daisy so openly ogling you, pops in her mind. She can’t understand the nerve of that girl. Who does she think she is to just come in here and think she has a chance with you? She’s a newbie---she’s a nobody!

… 

“Oh, hello.” You say when you find her in the surveillance room and her stomach drops, her lungs struggle to follow a normal pattern in breathing and her chest--her chest feels pressured. 

“Good morning.” She still smiles and the way you trip over your own feet at seeing that smile, makes swallowing difficult. 

You’re so adorable, and this crush you’ve had on her has never seemed more real in her eyes than it does now. 

“I didn’t know you’d be up here.” You tell her as you take the empty seat next to her, and try to focus on the monitor in front of you. 

You always do this. You always look away from her, and you always make sure to never be alone with her. She hasn’t noticed it before but now, seeing you type with such ferocity on that keyboard, trying to get away from her as soon as you possibly can--is so telling. 

“I wanted to see what happened in the garage. Clint needed stitches, you know?” 

You stop typing and she holds her breath as you turn to look at her, and you’re so beautiful--so beautiful that she has to catch herself before she blurts it out. 

“Clint was being an ass.” You tell her with a pointed look. “Bucky punching him in the face was merciful.”

“He needed stitches on his upper lip.” She tells you as a wave of protectiveness takes over. Clint is Nat’s best friend, and subsequently hers as well. 

“He deserved that punch, Wanda. We all joke around here but he always has to take things to the next level, and for what? If Bucky hadn’t done it, I’d have probably done it myself.”

You go back to typing, and she goes back to staring. Of course you’re right, Clint tends to get on everyone’s nerves and Natasha’s always assumed someone would punch him sooner, or later. That doesn’t take away Wanda’s feeling of protectiveness towards him though. 

“We’re a team.” She tells you and you stand up, having finished what you came in here to do. 

“We don’t all need to be friends to do our jobs, Wanda.”

You’re gone before she can even think of a response to your words, and whatever she was feeling earlier vanishes completely. The team is important, the team means a lot more than work for the rest of you, and you’ve been here a while already. 

You need to start seeing it that way too, because you’re part of it now. 

…