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quizzicalwriter · 11 months ago

Note

Hi! Idk if you do headcanons but if you do can you do boyfriend headcanons for Dallas? It can be up to you to make it general things or just smut related things.

Dating Dallas HC’s

Despite what you may think, I don’t see Dallas being an overly possessive boyfriend. You two go about your business and that’s that, but the moment he catches someone flirting with you he’s bounding over and making sure everyone knows you’re his. Beyond that? He’s alright with PDA, but he’s not about to make out in front of his friends, that’s private stuff.

He’d let you wear his jacket, necklace, rings, everything. He loves seeing you in his clothing, and he’d certainly notice the moment you aren’t wearing one item that you usually do - and it’s not even for the reason you think, he’s just worried you’ll lose his stuff and he’ll have to find another one.

He has no problem remembering birthdays, anniversaries, all that jazz. He loves surprising you by remembering important dates for you. But the moment you ask him if he remembers someone you met last week he’s pulling a blank. He’ll remember eventually, but he sucks at remembering faces.

You ever need something but don’t have the money for it? Dallas does! Don’t ask where he got it, most of the time he doesn’t remember or doesn’t want you worrying about him - he doesn’t know which is worse and he ain’t about to find out.

On the topic of money, if you tried to pay him back he’d act personally offended and never accept the money. I’m talking full-on mouth dropping open, loud scoff, all of it. You’re his girl, why the hell are you trying to pay him back? Just give him a kiss or something.

Loves driving you places, and lets you control the music in reasonable amounts - meaning, you cannot play the same song over, and over. He’d let you get away with three replays max before he’s groaning and turning the radio off and tossing the mix out the window. He’d apologize afterward and buy you a new cassette.

I do not see him being a kind driver, the man has road rage and you’ve seen it. There have been multiple instances where you’ve ducked into the passenger seat and whisper-yelled at him to shut up - he never does.

The man is like a corpse when he sleeps. You want him to move over? Good luck. You’d have a better chance rolling over onto him to get sleep, he wouldn’t wake up either way unless you pushed him from the bed.

Speaking of sleep, if you’re ever cold and plaster your morgue-like hands against his back, he will shriek. His back will arch, his legs will shoot out, and he’ll throw every curse known to man your way as he moves away from your hands - your hands still end up warm.

His friends are his family and he takes their opinions seriously, I can see him genuinely fretting over their view of you if he cares enough for you. Hell, he’s got feelings for you, of course, he’s going to want his family to like you. They will, it’ll take a while to get used to their form of joking, but you’ll be at home with them and it’ll make Dallas smile.

On the subject of family, Dallas doesn’t mention his much. He might if you’re close enough, but you’re likely to get bits and pieces as time goes by until he’s sure you won’t leave either. When he finally tells you about his upbringing it hurts your heart, you’re both mentally spent by the end of it and you promise him to never mention it unless he does first. He appreciates you for it.

If you stay over at his place often enough he’ll try to make the place look more presentable. Mainly rearranging stuff that he hasn’t touched in months, maybe buying another set of bedsheets. You notice every time something changes in his room and whenever you mention it he’s happy to talk about it, even if he tries to play it off cool.

He watches you sleep, not so much in a creepy way, but it’s something he loves to do. If you talk or snore in your sleep he will imitate it in the morning. In the moment he finds it cute, but he’ll never admit it.

His version of helping you cook breakfast, lunch, or dinner is standing behind you with his chin on your shoulder, or leaning against the kitchen counter with a cigarette between his lips. The man can’t cook, maybe he could, but he likes watching you cook too much to try - that and the one time he tried to help he burnt the shit out of his hand.

If you smoke he’ll light your cigarettes or share his own, if you don’t he’ll appreciate you standing beside him while he smokes, but he ain’t gonna force you to be near him when he does - just don’t nag the man, he’s been smoking since he was a kid, I don’t think he could stop even if he wanted to.

Whenever he smokes he’ll blow the smoke to the side, always ensuring it doesn’t blow in your face. But, if the smoke follows you he’ll murmur some cliche line like “Smoke follows beauty.”

Any music he’s into he will show you in a heartbeat. He thrives on showing you things you haven’t seen yet, whether it’s movies at the drive-in he’s sneaking you into, or a cassette he snagged from a nearby store - either way, his eyes watch you for any reaction.

Definitely considers going on a walk or eating food in Buck’s T-Bird a date. You’ll have to specify what you want if you want anything different, otherwise he’s content with the routine. If you ask for something different he won’t take offense to it, but he might chide you for it.

Words aren’t his forte, actions are. He’ll try his best to be kind, but he’ll occasionally slip and might say something rude. If you can shoot back your own sarcastic quips it’ll make him swoon, he loves nothing more than someone who can fire back at him.

Likely won’t tell you that he loves you for YEARS. You can say it first, he’ll nod and likely kiss your cheek or forehead in return. You know what he means, but he’s not the type to say it until he feels absolutely certain about you. Dallas knows how he feels about someone rather quickly, but he’s wary when it comes to love. He wants to mean it, mean it in a way that scares him.

The first time he tells you he loves you will be when you’re asleep. He’ll continue doing that until one day when he randomly springs it on you. It’ll likely be around a cigarette, but you’ll be able to tell from his eyes how deeply he means it. Don’t expect him to say it often, but know that he always feels it.

A/N: This is so short, I’m so sorry. I’ve never done headcanons before, so I hope this was good! I think about Dallas’s character so much that I actually had a bit of fun with this! This is a late night post for me, but I finished it up and figured I’d post it for y’all anyways. Thank you all for the continued love and support you’ve shown me and my work!! I appreciate you all more than words could ever describe! <3

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whaleofatjme1920 · 9 months ago

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Passing Autumn Nights

[Proxies (Toby, Masky, Hoodie) X GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

[AN: also known as the 'fuck me i just miss autumn' fic and LOVE writing slice of life things.]

[1356 words <3]

Reblogs are appreciated!

Moments like these never last forever. Fleeting, careless, and bittersweet, they remind you of a time long, long passed. The moon is rising and a chill runs through the air. It oddly warms you and reminds you of friends that pass in and out of your life just as freely, though in your past life it might have caused you minor concern.

You sit on the hood of this stupid car Toby stole. It’s sporting a giant dent in the side, and some of the paint near the tires is rusting but it’s taken care of the four of you so far. In your hand is a pack of cigarettes. You don’t smoke. You tried it once and hated it, coughing up like a crude imitation of a dragon lighting up your first attempt, and never tried again after that. They’re actually Tim’s; he wants you to hold them to help kick his habit.

Brian says it’s a sign he’s trusting you more and more. After all, no one knows Tim like him, and you trust your right hand’s judgment.

Laying in the back seat is Brian himself. His forearm is over his eyes to shield them from the harsh overhead lights in the parking lot. He smells like pine, the woods, a bit of whiskey but not too much. He’s got his back windows rolled down as he waits with you for Toby and Tim to finish whatever the hell they’re doing inside the grocery store. You all needed some cash, and Tim has ways of getting it without any suspicion raised. Whole registers, wallets, purses, things lifted without so much as a smile on his face and an oddly friendly, ‘have a nice day’ in response.

In your hands, you play with the lighter Tim also left with you. You flick it a few times before finally hearing your right hand’s voice.

“Leave it,” he hums tiredly, not bothering to move his forearm from his closed eyes. “Thing’s low enough.”

You smile softly and cap it before resting it back in your jacket pocket. For a mid October day, it’s only a little cold, which is surprising. You expected it to be chillier. Or maybe that’s just your proxy blood telling you to not register cold the way a human might. There’s scrapes all over your body, some from missions, others from training, only one from The Operator himself. You trace over the heated mark on your clothed thigh and internally wince, remembering when you upset him. “Sorry,” you apologize half heartedly as you run your thumb in slow circles over the smooth box of cigarettes. “Just get antsy waiting.”

Brian hums again in response as if to ask ‘why’, but makes no further move to press. He just smiles slightly in response to your presence. “You can always ask them how they’re doing,” he says. When you glance over your shoulder to peer at him through the windshield, he tapes at his temple. Head talk, of course.

You squint a bit across the parking lot and feel a small bout of relief wash through your system as Tim and Toby step out of the store, bags in hand from legitimate purchases, and well, you can feel the things they acquired outside of legal bounds. “No need to,” you say in response to Brian.

“Get off the hood,” Tim chides you slightly, but he makes no further move to disturb you. It’s said much like an older brother would to a pesky younger sibling.

In solidarity, and out of a love for annoying his leader, Toby haphazardly opens the trunk of the car, tosses the bags inside which earns a scowl from Tim, and then bounds over to sit on the hood with you. He leans back a bit, resting his tired body alongside yours. “Kinda crowded in there,” he says to you, knowing you’re curious about how it all went. “Bit too crowded for a Thursday at 8pm,” he muses further. He runs his fingers through his chopped brown hair, gazing at the night sky. The moon has always captivated him. Reminds him of simpler times. He likes autumn just as much as you do, and this feels like the best it’s going to get.

“What took you guys so long, then?” You inquire as you and Toby listen with half attention to Brian and Tim’s conversation. Something about future work, run of the mill proxy lifestyle things.

Toby rummages around in his pockets and pulls out a handful of dum dum lollipops he lifted. He gives you a toothy grin and nods for you to pick a flavor before he settles on blue raspberry after you’ve chosen. He crinkles the wrapper, shoves it in his pocket and then holds his hand out for you to give him your wrapper as well. He pops the sweet thing in his mouth and savors the taste before shrugging a bit, “you know Tim. That’s how it always is.” He smiles when Tim taps the windshield in slight annoyance.

“C’mon, get back in the car. We got somewhere to go,” Tim says as he starts the car up. Either you two get in, or he’s driving with you two strapped to the top of the car.

“Shotgun-!”

“Sh-oh come on,” Toby sighs in defeat as you snicker in triumph and slide off the hood of the car. You pat his shoulder and then round your way to the passenger seat, settling in and feeling oddly warmer despite not registering you were cold to begin with. You watch as Toby slouches his way to the backseat with Brian, who at first, does not want to move for the former runt. When Toby shoves him, Brian only laughs and tells him to ‘not get your panties in a bunch’.

“So, where are we going?” You ask as Tim puts the car in drive and smoothly leaves the parking lot. You’re always surprised at the places proxies end up. Right now, you’re in southern Illinois right around Ruth’s hometown. You wouldn’t tell her, but you visited her family’s farm and left a small gift. She would say it’s far too much, and even dangerous for proxy influence to be near her folks and younger siblings but The Operator’s always been fond of her. He wouldn’t hurt them. Not while she performs beautifully for him.

Tim props his left arm up on the sill of the car window, resting his head there as he drives with one hand. He’s very relaxed, preferring driving at night as opposed to dealing with everyone else when the sun is out shining. He won’t admit it either, but he loves autumn nights like these too. He watches the lights of the town start to fade as you head further south. “Stopping in a small proxy town, meeting with EJ, then Jeff is gonna tag along. Something about… a farm? Lotta farms lately,” he chuckles tiredly. “It’s kinda perfect for Halloween - I’ve never seen The Operator so fascinated with a witch before. So, that. He said he wanted us with those two, and we’ll get further directions once we’re at said farm.”

Brian clears his throat and adjusts his posture so he’s sitting up. “That farm gonna have pumpkins?” He asks. It’s surprisingly out of character for your right hand, arguably one of the most brutal proxies in your team.

Tim shrugs. “Fuck if I know.”

You laugh softly, “why? You wanna carve some?”

Some part of Brian’s old world personality shines through. His smile, the crinkle in his eyes despite him being older and no longer a college student but a weathered, jaded proxy is visible as he nods slightly. “Yeah,” he sniffs slightly, gaze now falling out the window at the orange, red and yellow trees visible from the car’s headlights as you pass, only to see them disappear as the four of you roll through. “Always liked autumn,” he says.

There’s that warm, gentle feeling again. You focus on your lollipop, feeling the presence of something mulled and sweet. This is as good as it’s gonna get.

“Yeah,” a pause, “me too.”

#creepypasta x reader #proxies x reader #marble hornets x reader #masky x reader #toby x reader #ticci toby x reader #brian thomas x reader #hoodie x reader #creepypasta x you #marble hornets x you #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #masky x you

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androgynealienfemme · 2 years ago

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"Yes, it's true: I was the type of young femme who managed the girls basketball team in high school, just to be able to take in the sight of all those butches parading their muscles up and down the court. I found Girl Scout camp to be femme heaven and reveled in being able to explore my athletic self and still maintain my femmeness. And, to my horror, I have to admit pushing Tina away from my breasts in the back seat of a Buick while attending Mount Saint Mary Seminary. And then there was feminism... Although I came out as a "gay" woman before reading The Feminine Mystique, the seventies brand of white feminism had me trimming my nails and cutting off my hair. Soon I was outfitted in farmer jeans and high tops. And still I was told by my "sisters" that I didn't "look like a dyke" (read: I didn't look butch). I began to lead two lives- one as an outrageous, skirted, lipsticked femme while I worked in and traveled with carnivals, and another as an imitation butch back home in the women's community. Eventually, I pulled the pieces of my being back together and proclaimed boldly, "I am a working-class lesbian femme." So I had maybe six years reveling in unleashing my seductive femme self when, as lives go, mine changed: slowly at first and then more dramatically. Recurring back pain and limited range of mobility were finally diagnosed. Soon after came decreased mobility. No more mountain climbing. No long mall walks in search of the perfect piece of sleaze. No more standing against kitchen walls being gloriously fucked by some handsome butch. I stopped using alcohol and drugs, became ill with what is now known as CFIDS (Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome), and began to use a three-wheeled power chair. The more disabled I became, the more I mourned the ways my sexual femme self had manifested through the nondisabled me: cruising at the local lezzie bar, picking up a dyke whose eyes refuse to stray from mine, dancing seductively, moving all of me for all of her. Cooking: love and suggestion neatly tucked into the folds of a broccoli quiche. Serving my date in varying, sleazy clothing, removing layers as the meal and our passion progressed. And making love... feeling only pleasure as my hips rose and fell under the weight of her. Accomplishment and pride smirked across my face as her wrists finally submitted to the pressure of strong persistent hands. There are the ways I knew to be femme, to be the essence of me.

It's been five years now since I began using my wheelchair. I am just awakening to a new reclamation of femme. Yes. I still grieve the way I was, am still often unsure how this femme with disabilities will act out her seduction scenes. I still marvel when women find passion amidst the chrome and rubber that is now a part of me.

There have been numerous dates, lovers, relationships, sexual partners, and fliterations along the way. Cindy, Jenny, Ellie, Emma, Diane, Dorothy, Gail, June, Clove, Lenny, Cherry, Diana, Sarah I, and Sarah II. You have all reminded me in your own subtle or overt, quit or wild ways that I am desirable, passionate, exciting, wanted.

Yes I am an incredibly sexual being. An outrageous, loud mouthed femme who's learning to dress, dance, cook, and seduce on wheels; finding new ways to be gloriously fucked by handsome butches and aggressive femmes. I hang out with more sexual outlaws now- you know, the motorcycle lesbians who see wheels and chrome between your legs as something exciting, the leather women whose vision of passion and sexuality doesn't exclude fat, disabled me.

Ableism tells us that lesbians with disability are asexual. (When was the last time you dated a dyke who uses a wheelchair?) Fat oppression insists that thin is in and round is repulsive. At times, these voices become very loud, and my femme, she hid quietly amidts the lists.

Now my femme is rising again. The time of doubt, fear, and retreat has passed. I have found my way out of the lies and oppression and have moved into a space of loving and honoring the new femme who has emerged. This lesbian femme with disabilities is wise, wild, wet, and wanting. Watch out.

-"Reclaiming femme... Yet again" Mary Francis Platt, The Persistent Desire (Edited by Joan Nestle) (1992)

#lesbian #lesbianism #lesbian history #disabled lesbian #lgbt history #gay history #butch femme #femme lesbian #feminism #lesbian feminism #the persistent desire #intersectionality #disability history #disability rights

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artifacts-and-arthropods · 4 months ago

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Brenthia Moths: these moths can mimic the appearance and mannerisms of a jumping spider so convincingly that actual jumping spiders will sometimes attempt to court them

The markings, posture, and movements of a Brenthia moth (genus Brenthia, also known as a metalmark moth) all contribute to its disguise; the moths move around in short, jerky motions that mimic the movements of a jumping spider, and their hindwings are covered in black-and-white bands that strongly resemble the tucked-in legs of a salticiid spider, especially when the moth displays its unique wing position. The disguise serves as a defensive strategy, enabling the moth to avoid being preyed upon by actual jumping spiders.

In some cases, that disguise may work a little too well, as jumping spiders may actually mistake the moth for a potential mate and then attempt to engage it in a courtship/mating dance (which must be a pretty awkward and bizarre experience for the moth, tbh).

The resemblance between a Brenthia moth and a jumping spider may not seem terribly convincing to us, as human beings, but as this article explains:

When discussing animals mimicking their predator, it is important to remember that we humans are not the target audience. This means that the imitator may not look too convincing in its mimicry to us, but still manages to trigger a desired response from said predator.

Jumping spiders have also been known to respond to Brenthia moths by exhibiting a territorial display, which is yet another behavior that the spiders generally reserve for other spiders.

This study expands on the adaptive benefits of the moth's disguise:

In controlled trials, Brenthia had higher survival rates than other similarly sized moths in the presence of jumping spiders and jumping spiders responded to Brenthia with territorial displays, indicating that Brenthia were sometimes mistaken for jumping spiders, and not recognized as prey.

The illustration below shows the basic/general resemblance between a Brenthia moth and a jumping spider:

Sources & More Info:

New Scientist: Moth's Disguise is so Good, Spiders Love it Instead of Eating it

Animal Behaviour: Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

Science: This Moth Could Pass for a Spider

PLOS ONE Journal: Metalmark Moths Mimic their Jumping Spider Predators

Gil Wizen: Jumping Spider Mimicry in Brenthia Moths

Moths of North Carolina: Brenthia pavonacella

#lepidoptera #entomology #moths #peacock moth #brenthia #metalmark #mimicry #animal camouflage #cool animals #insects #cute bugs #jumping spiders #animals #arachnology #spiders #animal facts #salticidae #arthropods

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fashionsfromhistory · 7 months ago

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Jacket

c.1630-1650

Italy or England

Several examples of knitted jackets or waistcosts survive in museum collections are waistcoats, with well-known examples in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London (473-1893, 346-1898, 106-1899 and 807-1904). Both men and women wore these items of clothing either as undergarments during the day or as informal déshabillé or undress at home in the evening to provide additional warmth. These items tend to fall into two categories: Italian waistcoats that open down the front, sometimes known as Florentine waistcoats, and those that pulled over the head. Italian waistcoats were knitted using one or two colours of silk yarn, in imitation of patterns found on woven silks, the effect often enhanced with the use of purl stitches. The fine gauge of these waistcoats suggests that they were hand-knitted in professional workshops, using extremely fine metal knitting needles, known as ‘wires’, for wealthy classes to buy as ready-to-wear clothing. The garment is constructed from rectangular knitted sections; two front panels, two back panels and two sleeves. Several have triangular gores inserted to provide additional width over the hips, at home by the wearer or a member of their household. Their name suggests that they were made in Italy and exported to northern Europe, but it is now known that fine silk yarns were imported from Naples to London from the late sixteenth century to supply the native knitting industry. Because knitted waistcoats were for informal wear there are no known sources showing them being worn, making it hard to give them a more specific date. They appear to have originated at the beginning of the seventeenth century. Lady Elizabeth Howard, the wife of Lord William Howard (1563–1640) ordered ‘a pound of woosted for wastecotes’ for 9 shillings in 1618 and the Danish Royal family used knitted silk waistcoats for children’s shrouds during this period. Knitted waistcoats continued to be worn throughout the century. There are records of waistcoats being relined during the course of their use. Sir Thomas Isham (1656/7–81) is billed £1 5s 6d from his tailor for ‘new Lining A Purple and gold Silke knit wastcoate’ in April 1680. There are continuing references to them also in the early eighteenth century, including a London newspaper report of the theft of a ‘green silk knit waistcoat with gold and silver flowers all over it’ in 1712.

Glasgow Museums (ID Number: 29.126)

#knitwear #fashion history #historical fashion #17th century #stuart era #1630s #1640s #1650s #silk #yellow #italy #england #glasgow museums

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mirrology · 7 months ago

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— Doldrums .ᐟ ʚɞ

୨୧ Doldrums (noun) is a state of inactivity.

Ft. Aventurine, male reader, platonic. wc: 762

Content: child reader, reader is kinda stoic, dad aventurine, reader can't sleep, he takes child melatonin gummies, reader is refered to as son, kiddo and my little prince, reader likes to play outside, he's silly. / After playing outside and accidently falling down, leading to getting your clothes dirty, you get a bath and put to sleep after your shenanigans.

Notes: Umm, this took some time, but at least i posted, also trying a new layout (sort of), a mizi & sua fic coming soon!!

You stood in the doorway of the front door of your and your dad's house, covered head to toe in mud and grime. you shifted your eyes to the side and sweat dropped at your dad's intense stare on you, although your face was still blank. "So, my dear, son" He raised an eyebrow and smiled in amusement, "Would you mind telling me how exactly you ended up like this?" Aventurine said.

A small pout formed on your lips at his teasing tone whilst fiddling with the edge of your shirt — the edge that wasn't completely caked in mud.

"I... f..l.." You muttered, your words barely gracing Aventurine’s ears. He raised a brow, "Hm? I couldn't hear you, kiddo. Can you repeat what you said?" He encouraged as he kneeled down to be at your height. You shyly looked up and made eye contact with him. " I fell..." You repeated, this time louder than before, Aventurine paused for a second, looking at your embarrassed face, then laughed lightly and pat your head, making your already ruffled hair, messier.

Your cheeks felt hot, and it was quickly spreading all over your face from the way your dad practically "made fun" of you. "Not funny..." You complained as you crossed your arms over your chest, "No, I suppose not. My little prince could have gotten hurt!" Aventurine dramatically exclaimed, putting the back of his hand on his forehead and imitating a distressed tone.

Your once frown turned into a small smile as the edges your lips twitched upward, your dad always knew how to cheer you up. Nevertheless, you were still dirty and in need of a bath, you face scrunched up in distaste as the mud bled through your shirt and pressed against your skin. Aventurine quickly noticed your discomfort and picked you up in his arms, so you were sitting on his left forearm. "Let's get you cleaned up." He rubbed your back in an attempt to distract you from the feeling of being dirty.

You nodded and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as you were trying to ignore the discomfort that you felt.

You sighed, feeling much better now that you had taken a bath and dressed in clean clothes, known as your pajamas. A content smile graced your face as you sunk into the mattress of your bed, laying on top of your sheets in a fetal position.

"(Name)?" Your name was called out, interrupting your moment of peace. You opened your once closed eyes. In Aventurine's hand was a squared shaped bottle, and on the inside were purple half-moon shaped gummies. These were your melatonin gummies. Ever since you were much younger, you've had trouble falling asleep. Never once had you fallen asleep at your own fruition, you had to be helped somehow, so your father made it his mission to help you fall asleep one way or another.

You hummed in acknowledgment and sat up, you stretched out your arms and put out both of your hands, awaiting the grape flavored goodness. Two crescent shaped gummies were put in the middle of your hands, you quickly popped them into your mouth.

Aventurine let out a light chuckle "eager, are we?" He teased. He moved to be sitting at the edge of your bed. You nodded. You didn't want to stay up anymore. Your body was fatigued from all the running you did, and the warm bath that you took had drained the remainder of your energy.

You crawled underneath your soft blanket, and you turned to your dad. "Can you tuck me in?" You asked all while putting on your best puppy eyes. Which were not exactly needed because he would have done it even if you hadn't asked. Aventurine smiled. "Of course I can." He reached over and brought the blanket up to your chin, smoothed out the sides where your shoulders were. He proceeded to tuck in the loose sides underneath your torso.

"There" Aventurine muttered, looking quite proud of his work. He reached up and stroked the top of your head. You yawned as the melatonin finally caught up to you, making your eyes feel heavy. You sunk deeper into your bed, relishing in the warm feeling of being wrapped in soft cloth as well as the presence of your dad's hand radiating warmth.

"Goodnight, Papa." You slurred out, your eyes finally closing as you fell into a deep slumber.

Aventurine smiled softly and leaned down to give you a kiss on your forehead.

"Sweet dreams, my little prince"

#platonic relationships #honkai star rail #reader insert #x reader #hsr platonic #hsr x reader #hsr x reader platonic #male reader #aventurine honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader platonic #hsr #found family #platonic

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gureumz · 2 years ago

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coffee and mathematical physics

rating: explicit

member: jake

notes: fem!reader, university au, student council vp jake x student council secretary reader, a very speedy friends to lovers, clothed sex, spitting, shy jake 180-ing to dom!jake, unprotected sex

a/n: i really wanted to write something nasty for jake (tho i can get nastier than this wink wink) after hearing him ramble about quantum entanglement bc hello nerdy boys are so hot ugh so anyways enjoy!

the words in front of you are starting to blur and the only other thought in your mind is that you need coffee at the soonest time possible.

end-of-year reports were always a pain in the ass, especially for the student council secretary, which, by your luck, is you.

"sunoo, can we get someone to buy us coffee?" you ask, shuffling through the papers in your hands.

"we can ask jake. he's on his way," sunoo points out, taking a seat beside you. he types away furiously on his laptop, the click-clack of the keyboard grating against your ears.

"great," you grumble. "text him."

sunoo makes a sound akin to being offended. "the last time i checked, i was vice president for internal affairs, a rank higher than you."

you turn to sunoo, scowling. he's smiling, obviously having not taken your command to heart.

"okay, okay, i'll text him," sunoo soothes, patting you on the back.

you feel a heaviness in your head as you try your hardest to remember the order the documents have to be in.

annex a, then annex b, then annex c-1, annex c-2...wait, was there an annex b-2? what's that supposed to contain? officer info? council info?

your internal tirade against the university bureaucracy is interrupted when sunoo gasps, giggling right after.

"how sweet, jake's already bought coffee even before i told him to."

"classic jake," you supply, a hint of a smile on your lips.

jake, as the vice president for external affairs, was expected to be the outgoing and agreeable one. true to his job description, jake always made an effort to make sure everyone in the council's mental health was accounted for. he knew when jay was about to bust a vein (and how to prevent it from happening altogether), he can tell when sunoo's getting overwhelmed with university grievances, and jake always somehow knew when you needed a cup of coffee.

always. without fail. just as you were thinking about it, jake would offer you a trip to starbucks.

"he does this whole coffee thing for you, you know," sunoo points out, nudging you with his arm.

"he does not," you argue, slamming the clear book cover shut. you push the papers away from you, your temples throbbing and your eyes aching from the strain.

"he does," sunoo insists, closing his laptop as well. "he told me once how he'd never bought coffee for someone so many times until you started working together."

"i never told him to do that," you mumble, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. "i don't tell him to pay, either, but he does about half the time."

"he's so down bad for you," sunoo giggles, getting up. he packs away his laptop, rummaging around his bag.

"are you leaving already?" you question, disappointed, as you thought you'd have another set of eyes and hands to help you with the report.

sunoo nods, pouting apologetically. "i promised ni-ki we'd eat dinner together."

you make a face. "he's so down bad for you," you repeat, imitating sunoo's high-pitched teasing.

he laughs, swatting at your shoulder.

before any of you can get another word in, the door to the council room opens. in walks jake, a paper bag in hand, and his oh-so-dazzling smile plastered on his face.

"someone asked for coffee?" jake says, eyes meeting yours. you can't help but smile back at him, having known for quite some time that jake's smile was just that contagious.

"we did!" sunoo replies cheerily, skipping over to jake. the latter hands him a cup.

"the usual," jake informs. "mint choco frappe, albeit disgusting, is a must for our mint choco lover."

sunoo punches jake lightly on the arm.

"and for our hardworking secretary," jake begins, walking over to you at the table. "an iced caramel macchiato."

you accept the drink, thanking jake as you do so.

"so caring," you comment, giving him your sweetest smile. "my dream guy, indeed."

"and that's my cue to leave," sunoo declares, walking over to the door, his bag in hand.

"let me know if you need any help, ______! i'll get back to you as soon as i can," sunoo calls out as he pulls the door open, exiting swiftly, but not before shooting you a knowing glance over his shoulder.

jake, most likely oblivious to the exchange of looks, takes a seat beside you, rifling through the papers you had just organized moments ago.

"these all look in order," jake observes, tongue sticking out from the corner of his lips. you stare, albeit unintentionally, cursing inwardly at how attractive this little habit of his is.

not that you'd admit that jake was attractive, not out loud, at least. sure, he was extremely good-looking, with sharp eyes and an equally sharp nose, and lips that are to die for, not to mention that personality that toed the line between warm golden boy and reckless frat boy. you don't even want to get started on how he gets around girls, especially the pretty ones and—

"what else is missing?" jake asks, turning to you. you blink rapidly, trying to regain some coherent thoughts in your head, but the only thing you can focus on at the moment is how good jake smells.

"uh...," you begin lamely. jake grins, raising his eyebrows as he moves his face closer to yours, the same way you would when encouraging a child to tell you about their day.

"evaluation forms," you conclude, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. "the evaluation forms from last year's events."

jake nods, turning away momentarily. he pulls his laptop out before powering it up.

"jungwon should have that covered, right? he's the one who audited and liquidated them, after all," jake wonders out loud as he types. your eyes drift down to his hands and an internal monologue threatens to fire up inside you once more.

"yeah," you reply, willing yourself to stare at his laptop screen instead. "i think he just hasn't come around to printing them, yet."

"but they should be in the drive," you add.

jake hums, focused on the task at hand. in the meantime, you busy yourself with your coffee, taking a long sip, and immediately feeling your headache ease up.

"thanks again for the coffee," you say, lightly bumping your shoulder against jake's.

jake turns to you, smiling. you stare at each other for a few seconds as you take another sip. after a while, jake chuckles.

"what?" you ask, fingers swiping at your cheek. "did i get something on my face?"

jake transitions to a full giggle before shaking his head. "no. it's just cute that you're drinking out of a cup with my name on it."

you cock your head to the side before turning the cup around. sure enough, jake's name is scribbled on the side. nothing unusual, seeing as he was the one that ordered your drink.

"okay...?"

"nothing, it's nothing," jake says with a shake of his head.

"no, tell me," you insist, pulling on jake's wrist. he giggles some more, turning away from you in an attempt to hide his face.

"jakeeee," you whine, tugging on his arm. he meets your gaze, and it's only then you notice just how close he's gotten.

"okay, don't get weirded out, but like, imagine if i posted a story of you drinking from that cup," jake explains, gesturing to the drink in your hand. you nod, your curiosity building.

"and it has my name on full display. and you're drinking from it. the cup, with my name on it," jake continues, eyebrows raised once more as he gesticulates broadly with his hands, as if trying to get an obvious point across.

"and? is that supposed to mean anything?" you question, crossing your arms in front of you.

"i guess? i mean—well, i don't know!" jake stammers, collapsing into another fit of his adorable giggles. you laugh along, genuinely lost at what he's trying to get at.

"what, is it supposed to come off as like some romantic gesture that you bought coffee for me?" you ask, not expecting any particular answer, but jake's face blanks out at your words, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to find the right words.

"i mean, yeah," jake says timidly.

"but, you buy coffee for everyone on the council," you point out.

"because i didn't want to seem so obvious," jake admits, scratching at the back of his neck. you stare at him for a moment, unsure of where this is going.

"obvious? obvious about what?"

jake sighs, wiping his hands on his pants. "that i was trying to impress you with the coffee."

your eyes widen almost comically at this admission. jake was trying to impress you?

"you didn't have to do all that," you protest, suddenly guilty at how oblivious you've been. in your defense, you didn't want to read into it too much, if at all, for that matter.

"but, we're having this conversation now, so i guess it worked," jake says with a shrug. silence washes over the two of you as you try to think of what to say next.

"sorry," jake mumbles, clearly embarrassed.

"what? no! it's cute. you're cute," you blurt out and jake catches onto the last sentence, eyebrows almost shooting off his forehead.

"no, for real," you continue in a rush. "it's very sweet of you, jake."

jake grins, unable to hide the blush blossoming on his neck and ears. you feel your own face warm up.

"right," jake replies, clearing his throat. "it's nothing, really, i mean, i was gonna ask you out eventually, but—well, i wasn't really sure when, it's just—"

jake cuts himself off, covering his face with both his hands.

"god, sorry, what do i even say to that?" jake complains, laughing, obviously too embarrassed to speak.

you laugh, reaching over to pull his hands off his face. he looks at you with wide, puppy-dog eyes and you're convinced you've never seen anything as adorable as jake in this moment.

"relax," you say as you take jake's hands in yours. you set your coffee cup down. "tell you what, let's just put that conversation away for now."

you pull your chair closer to jake's, your knees knocking against his. you thread your fingers between his own, turning your full attention to him.

"tell me about your day instead," you suggest, laying your other hand on your clasped ones. jake seems to visibly relax at this, squeezing your hand.

"okay," jake begins hesitantly. "well, i had one class today, which was mathematical physics."

you nod, encouraging him to go on.

"i don't wanna bore you with the specifics, so...," jake warns, seemingly unsure of whether to continue or not.

"you could never bore me," you reply, smiling. jake's whole face turns red this time and he can't help the peals of laughter that erupt from his lips.

"you can't say stuff like that," jake says with a pout. "you just can't!"

you grin, amused at jake's flustered state. "okay, okay, i won't. please, tell me about mathematical physics."

jake clears his throat again, cheeks still a shade of pink. "right, so it's a class that i really enjoy because, if you didn't know already, i love math and physics, so this is like their genius lovechild or something."

you nod, leaning closer to jake. if he notices, he doesn't say anything.

"it's mostly just theory since it bases on the mathematical foundation of theoretical physics," jake pauses. "duh jake, theoretical physics, so, of course, it's mostly theory."

you snicker at his little side commentary.

"so yeah, we had a lecture today, and not going into specifics again since you probably wouldn't understand much of it anyway, we touched on statistical mechanics."

you nod along, and as much as you hate to admit it, you've tuned out most of what jake's saying, too focused on the way his face lights up and shifts as he explains. he still uses his hands as he goes along, even the one that's holding yours.

it's cute.

you don't realize that he's stopped talking until he suddenly laughs, getting closer to your face.

"you're not listening, are you?" jake challenges, grinning mischievously.

you stutter for a few seconds, mentally kicking yourself because you're the one who convinced him to talk about his day and you're not going to listen to him in the end?

it's your turn to be embarrassed as he lets go of your hand in favor of resting his arm on your chair behind you, circling it around your shoulders.

"sorry," you murmur, a sudden warmth spreading over you. "i don't really care about physics. i just wanna hear you talk about it."

jake smiles. "oh?"

"yeah," you nod, shifting closer to him. you swing your legs over to rest on his lap, meaning it to be a wholesome gesture, just something to bring you physically closer to him.

jake doesn't seem as flustered now because he catches your legs, tucking his forearm behind your knees before pulling you completely off your chair and onto his thighs. his other arm supports your waist now, leaving you seated sideways on his lap.

your skirt has flipped outward and you were now sitting your bare ass on jake.

"you're such a nerd," you comment with a laugh, circling your arms around jake's neck. his eyes flick up and down between your eyes and lips.

you get the message.

"a hot nerd, i hope?" jake asks, tilting his head to the side.

"the hottest," you confirm before leaning in to press your lips to his.

jake groans, fingers curling into the material of your blouse as he pulls you even closer. you part your lips, his other hand delicately tucking strands of hair behind your ear. he grips one side of your face right after, angling his own head in order to kiss you even deeper.

your own hands find purchase in his perfectly gelled hair, the soft strands gliding in between your fingers. something about jake walking out of this room with messed up hair because of you sends a jolt of excitement through your body.

"sit on me, baby," jake requests, pulling away. he's panting, eyes dark as he looks at you with want.

"i already am," you say with a hint of confusion.

"you know what i mean," jake says, voice gruff as his hands grab your waist, maneuvering you around. you hurriedly slide off his lap, but only for a second.

you straddle jake, your thin lace underwear and his cotton sweatpants the only barriers between your heated core and his hard-on.

you swivel your hips forward experimentally and the friction has you moaning. jake throws his head back, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

you continue your movements at a steady pace, the only sounds coming from both of your labored breathing. it should be embarrassing how you're like a couple of horny teenagers just humping each other at school of all places, but neither of you has the capacity to care at the moment.

jake reaches under your skirt from behind, palms smoothing over your ass before he grabs at your cheeks, controlling your movements.

"fuck yeah," he curses under his breath, looking up at you through his long lashes. you reach down, undoing jake's button-up, all the way down to the last button, exposing his toned chest and abs.

"get off" jake whispers. "bend over the desk."

you inhale, practically scrambling off jake's lap. you do as you're told, pressing your upper body against the table, documents and all, exposing your ass to jake.

he flips your skirt over, dragging your panties down until they fall at your ankles. you step out of them, kicking them off to the side. you squeal when you feel jake's fingers running up and down between your folds, coating himself with your wetness.

"who knew a few cups of coffee over the course of a semester would lead to this," jake says, slipping a finger in. you bite your lip, trying to conceal the sounds that threaten to escape your lips.

jake adds another. "spread wide open for me."

jake slowly drags his fingers in and out of you and you have to clamp a hand down on your mouth. you clench around the thick digits, the pad of jake's thumb ghosting over your puckered rim. he teases it ever-so-slightly and you can't stop the whimper that leaves you.

jake covers the lower half of your face with his large hand. "sshh," jake coos in your ear as he leans down. "don't want anyone to discover the student council vice president and secretary getting it on in the council room now, do we?"

you shake your head, grabbing at jake's wrist. you mumble against his palm, but it comes out a garbled mess of words. he seems to take pity on you because he removes his hand momentarily to let you speak.

"please," you try to say as quietly as you can, despite jake's fingers shoved deep inside you. "fuck me, please."

you turn to look at jake and it's like all traces of the previous jake are gone. his face is serious but a dark glint is in his eyes, and you somehow know you're about to get fucked within an inch of your life.

jake forces your head down on the table, your cheek smushing against the smooth plastic. jake removes his fingers from inside you, leaving you clenching around nothing. you hear a wet pop and you immediately know he's helping himself to your arousal.

"delicious, babe," jake comments, leaning down to plant a kiss on your temple.

"if anything gets too much, our safe word is 'coffee'," jake reminds, kissing you again, this time on the cheek that isn't being pressed against the desk.

jake lets go of you for a second, but you don't dare move, both afraid and exhilarated at the idea of what might happen if you do. you hear rustling from behind you and you know jake has pulled his pants down.

you turn to take a peek and what you see has your mouth watering.

jake is of a highly commendable size. you'd say around 6 inches from where you're looking and girthy.

jake catches you staring and he snickers, giving his cock a few pumps.

"like what you see, sweetheart?" jake asks, thumbing at the precum spilling from his tip.

"yeah," you breathe out. "can't wait to have it inside me."

jake chuckles lowly. "no need to wait, baby."

jake rubs the length of your core once, twice, before pushing right in. a sound between a groan and a sigh escapes you, the feeling of fullness hitting you head-on.

"fuck," jake curses. "fuck yes."

jake starts to move, pulling out almost all the way before plunging back in. he goes in so deep, it. has your head spinning. you lay there, splayed out against the work you were poring over merely half an hour ago, wondering if the office would accept cumstained documents.

"up," jake commands. it takes you a second but you manage to hold yourself up with trembling arms, the desk's mechanical creaking loud inside the room.

jake takes hold of your neck his other arm wrapping around your waist. he pulls you flush against him, thrusting up shallowly into your dripping pussy.

"good girl," jake croons in your ear. he tightens his fingers around your airway. "you're my good girl, right?"

you let out a sound, unable to find proper words to confirm that, yes, you're his good girl and you'd do anything he asks of you, whatever it is he wants, you'd gladly do it.

your meek whimpers turn into a whine of protest when you feel jake pull out. he leans over, shoving papers and other things to the very edge of the desk. some papers flutter off the table completely but both of you fail to notice.

"lie down," jake instructs, pushing you towards the desk. you turn around, hoisting yourself up on the desk before laying down as jake had said.

jake enters you again, resuming his previous pace. pressure builds up inside of you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head with every brush of jake's cock against that one spot within.

"open," jake's voice cuts through the haze in your mind. you blink at him, unsure of what he's asking you to do. he makes a sound of impatience, grabbing your jaw.

"open your mouth," jake says, leaning over. you part your lips and jake aligns his face above yours. he gathers spit between his lips and before you can register what he's doing, he lets the liquid fall right into your awaiting mouth.

"swallow," jake orders, forcing your mouth shut. you oblige, your whole body flushing at the filth he's making you do.

jake speeds up his movements, seemingly satisfied. you gasp, grabbing onto jake's arm. he's holding onto your hips as if you were nothing, his grip on you so tight, like he might fling you around with no problem at all. he's fucking you like a man starved and you're loving every second of it.

"g-gonna cum," you whimper, fingers clumsily rubbing at your clit in an attempt to bring you closer to your orgasm.

"yeah?" jake responds. "gonna cum all over my cock, hm?"

you nod frantically, back arching off the table as you feel it approach.

"come on baby, cum all over this cock," jake eggs on. "so fucking hot, baby, cumming from this cock alone."

you cry out, a wave of pleasure crashing into you. your mouth hangs wide open, breathing labored as euphoria grips you from every side.

you hear jake groan from above you and you watch as your orgasm is fading away, jake pulling out and pumping his cock furiously. he finishes all over your exposed cunt, some of his cum staining your skirt.

yours and jake's breathing comes out loud, both of you spent from the harsh fucking you just did.

"fuck," jake mutters, rubbing his softening dick all over your swollen pussy. "that's hot."

you laugh breathlessly, propping yourself up on your elbows. jake looks at you, immediately bursting into laughter.

"well, damn," jake says, pulling back to survey the scene in front of him.

"that's one pretty picture if i've ever seen one," jake concludes, giving you a thumbs up.

you roll your eyes, peeking down to assess the mess you both made.

"shut up and help me clean up," you tease good-naturedly, sliding off the desk. jake smiles, leaning in to peck your lips.

"of course, my ever-so-hardworking secretary."

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #jake smut #jake scenarios #w: jake

2K notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 2 years ago

Text

soft

harry is y/n's best friend, so she thought she knew everything about him. but, it looks like they both had some secrets: harry thought about her a lot more than she realized and y/n has really soft hands.

wordcount: 6.2k+

—————

"C'mon, (Y/N), let's go to bed."

Harry's voice in her ear had (Y/N) jumping out of the half-asleep limbo she found herself in. Going back to his place after a gathering at Mitch's house had left her a little more than exhausted after she managed to wipe her makeup away and change into a sleep set she had buried in the back of his closet. Her previously styled hair was piled into a mess on the top of her head as she knuckled at her eye, letting Harry help her up off the couch with his fingers looped around her wrist.

"Your room?" she asked, voice a bit rumbly as she readily followed him.

"Yeah, that alright?" he checked, her hooded eyes barely catching the way he looked at her over his shoulder.

"If I can have your fluffy pillow," she bargained, coming more alive after the walk with her bare feet on the hardwood of his floors.

"You know," he started, (Y/N) able to imagine the roll of his eyes, "y'can jus' say you're spoiled."

"Is that a yes?" she prodded, climbing atop his bed while he went to his closet in search of his own pajamas for the night (which was really just going to be a pair of sweatpants that would very quickly turn into boxers after he shed the pants in the middle of the night).

"If it'll keep y'quiet," he called from the closet, door cracked to keep him concealed while he changed though he could still talk to her.

"You'd be devastated if I never talked to you again," she countered, snuggling right up to the fluffiest pillow in the bunch on his bed, the quilted puffs of his comforter settling around her form

"I have other friends."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. She knew he would say that—as if she wasn't his best friend. "You're a dick!"

Faintly, from the crack in the doorway, she could hear him imitating her in a crackly, childish voice, repeating her words as if it were the strongest comeback known to man. She only rolled her eyes.

Leaving his closet, Harry came out with a bare chest and low sweats, the band of his underwear hugging his hips—his typical bedtime uniform. He looked much too smug as he tossed his clothing to the hamper in the corner of his room.

"You've got quite the attitude for someone who's getting to sleep in m'bed when it would be very easy to kick you out to the couch."

"You'd never kick me out—you like to cuddle with me too much," she countered triumphantly as he climbed into bed with her.

"I do not," he argued, features scrunched as if he couldn't believe she would ever suggest such a thing.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, the sleep that had taken her before beginning to creep in again now that she was cradled in warmth and the scent of her best friend. "I give you twenty minutes then you'll be all over me."

"Y'wish."

And, maybe she did. But, that wasn't something she was ready to analyze this close to sleep.

"Goodnight, Harry," she settled, burrowing into the fluff of her pillow with the warmth of the quilt lulling her to sleep.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he answered in a decidedly gentler tone, the sound of his shuffling to get comfortable filling the space between them.

Just as (Y/N) figured he would, it was almost thirty minutes after she shuttered her eyes and sunk into the mattress with her back to him, that she heard him shuffling about again. The rustling of the sheets sounded once more, the mattress dipping just before she felt the warmth of Harry's arms wrapping around her middle. The quiet sigh he let out when he pressed his chest to her back let her know that he probably figured she was asleep, his covert cuddling going off without a hitch.

As much as the annoying best friend in her wanted to twist around and tease him for falling into exactly what he had denied, but that other part of herself that she tried to keep tied up and locked away in the back of her mind had her staying silent. Was it really such a bad thing to have her Harry cuddling into her, getting comfortable and warm before falling asleep? Was teasing him and telling him I told you so really worth halting the way he nosed into her neck, his breath fanning across her skin?

Besides, she was too tired anyway. At least that's what she was telling herself.

(Y/N) sunk into him, her body conforming to the strong lines of his own, feigning a stretch so she could drape her hand over his own where he settled into her softness. A few moments after she relaxed, she felt the way he carefully hooked his ankle around her own, socked feet curling together as Harry shuffled as close as he could behind her.

The strength of his thighs could be felt against the back of her own where she curled into him. Every block of his muscles were pressed against her back with the help of his bare chest, warm and strong though he softened himself to hold her in his half-sleep. The blanket on her form had nothing on the length of his arm thrown across her waist, hand and palm set against the soft of her tummy, only flexing once he felt her own touch find his own.

Yeah, there was no way she was leaving this.

Finding a soft place to sink into, (Y/N) allowed herself to be lured into the limbo of sleep for real this time, her breathing evening out as she began to lose touch with what was happening outside of the bubble of contact cradling her.

Until something changed in that bubble—something decidedly less soft than the rest of him curled around her.

Against the curve of her bottom, (Y/N) felt something hard pushing against her. Even with the haze of sleep having begun to blanket her, it didn't take much for her to connect the dots and realize what was going on.

He was hard. Holding her tight against his chest with her butt pushing against his lap, Harry was hard.

As far as she remembered, that wasn't the case when he had climbed into bed with her or even something she noticed when he first wrapped around her. Now that she had softened in his hold, conforming around his body and sinking into his warmth, she could feel that something poking against her ass.

Maybe she hadn't hidden her shock as well as she had hoped, at least with the way she felt Harry nose against the back of her neck and pulse his hold around her. "What happened?" he drawled sleepily, "Why'd y'wake up, (Y/N)?"

She knew there was no doubt a much more tactful way to broach the subject, but that wasn't anywhere on her mind as she spoke: "Ar-Are you hard?"

That had Harry stiffening up behind her, shuffling in the sheets and drawing away just enough she couldn't feel the pressure of his body directly behind her. Despite that, he still attempted to feign nonchalance with a breathy laugh fanning across her skin. "Uh—Maybe?" he laughed out, sounding just as stiff as his hold began to feel, "Sorry."

Just as he started unwrapping around her, his arm slipping from where it was anchored from over her waist, (Y/N) stopped him with her fingers lacing through his with her palm pressed to the back of his hand. "Wait, no—You don't," she stuttered, cutting herself off when she heard just how flustered she sounded, "You... You don't need to move if you don't want to."

"Oh?" he sounded, his body staying stiff though he didn't make any further movements to slip away, "Y'sure?"

(Y/N) didn't want to think about why she was so sure about him staying just where he was, if not moving to get back into the position that warmed her in the first place, and she decided now wasn't the time to analyze it all. "Yeah, it's fine," she chattered, her voice an octave higher than what was natural, "It-It's not a big deal."

He swallowed behind her, making careful movements to resume his hold on her, allowing that hold she laced over his hand to guide him back into place. "I—uh—I thought y'were asleep."

"Almost," she peeped, trying to remind herself this was only Harry. No reason for her to be nervous and stiff with him—he's her best friend. "Were you almost asleep?"

"Not quite, obviously," he joked, his smile audible as he gave a delicate pulse of his fingers with hers. While it definitely wasn't the first time they'd ever held hands, (Y/N) tried not to think about why this time felt different.

It's just Harry, It's just Harry, It's just Harry was the mantra playing in her head as she voice rose to her throat. "Can I ask you something kind of weird?"

"Sure."

"Were you thinking about anything? Like when you..." She didn't need to finish her sentence to make it clear where she was going with it.

A beat passed, silence having settled in the bedroom like an extra person.

"You don't have to answer that, by the way. I don't even really know why I asked, actually."

"No, 's alright," he told her, hand flexing under hers, "I jus'... I thought it was obvious."

She doesn't think she's ever been so grateful for the fact Harry couldn't see her face as she processed his words. "What do you mean?"

"I—Uh...I mean," he floundered, the tip of his nose brushing her skin as he ducked his head behind her, "I was holding you—touching you, so..."

Her mouth ran dry at the implication, her heart bubbling at the verbal confirmation of what she had been thinking—hoping. "So, you were thinking about... me?"

"I mean," he breathed the faint fan of a laugh, humorless, "yeah. I thought you kind of knew that. I don't think I've ever really hid it before."

(Y/N) wasn't even sure if she was breathing when she realized exactly what he was telling her.

He's thought about her before in a way that's had him in this situation? Had there been other nights like these where she really had fallen asleep and she had no idea she had been on his mind? How long had he thought about her like this? And, he'd supposedly never hid it? What did that even mean? Were there signs th—

"(Y/N)," he sighed out her name, beginning to slip away from her, "'M gonna go ahead and sleep in the guestroom, alright? I—uh—I didn't mean to have this conversation, especially not like this so..."

She hadn't even realized just how long she had gone silent until his voice filled the room, filling the void. After giving her a small pulse of his fingers around her own, he unhooked his ankle around hers and left her back cold after drawing away. Despite the sleep that had been moments away from cloaking her limbs, (Y/N) twisted between the sheets in a haste.

"Harry, wait," she bubbled out, finally catching sight of him for the first time since she bundled into his bed, "D-Don't go, please."

He looked resigned as he shuffled to the edge of the bed on the opposite end. His silhouette revealed the heave of his bare chest as he gave another sigh, the deep breath filling his lungs with his nose flaring. Dropping his gaze to his lap where he was stretched out with his arms stationed with his elbows sinking into the mattress on either side of him, he shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea, (Y/N). I think I need to... be alone for a second."

If not for the dark, (Y/N) liked to think she would've seen a tint of pink on his cheeks.

(Y/N)'s mouth ran dry as she tried to find the right way to show him he didn't need to leave if he didn't want to. "You don't have to be alone, though," she swallowed, the comforter shifting around her as she inched just the barest length closer to him, "If you don't want to be, anyway."

A beat passed. Harry shifted just enough to look at her in the dim of his room, the glisten of his eyes barely glinting in the limited light.

"Do you want me to stay?" When she didn't immediately answer, her throat dry, she could see the way Harry's fists wrapped tight before he raise one hand to linger through his hair. "You have to tell me or I can't do anything. We need to be honest with each other, right?"

The deep rumble of his tone was almost as warm as the feel of his arms around her. The perfect coaxing method. "I want you to stay," she peeped, her voice a whisper between the two of them, "I want to help you."

"Help me?" he prodded, settled amongst the sheets once more though he kept his distance.

"Yeah," she said, a small nod of her head, "with—um—you know, that."

A quiet laugh left Harry's lips at her words. "Yeah, that, huh?"

His gentle teasing was enough to have her shaking her head against the fluffed pillow with a roll of her eyes. "H, stop," she complained, biting back her smile, "I'm trying to be nice."

"Being nice, to you, is offering to touch my dick? You've been pretty mean to me for years, then, and I had no idea," he prodded, throwing his hands up in the air as he sunk down into the mattress, feigned exasperation.

"You don't have to say it like that, sicko," she chided him, taking the initiative to shuffle just the smallest bit closer to him, the dips in the mattress joining together.

"Since when are you shy, hm?" he countered, turning to face her with a lopsided smile on his lips, cheek cushioned by the pillow.

"You don't know if I'm shy or not," she argued, feeling a warmth hit her cheeks, "We've never been in bed together like this before."

"What is this then, huh? How is this different than before?"

In the limited light, she could see the way he looked a little too smug at his line of question. She knew he liked to play around, but she never really allowed herself to think about what it would be like to see him playful between the sheets. This wasn't something she was going to be able to forget.

"You know what I mean, stop being annoying," she complained half-heartedly, rolling her eyes in an attempt to match the energy he was giving. As much as she was comforted by his teasing, that demeanor was hard to meet when her mind was somewhere else—stuck where he had been pressed tightly against her back.

Maybe she should have pulled her head out of that moment, thought a little more before she opened her mouth once more, but the slight pause after her words was too much of a temptation to let slip away. Despite the fact she could see Harry gearing up for his own teasing stab, she stopped him with her hands tightly bundled in the fluff of his comforter.

"Can I, though?" she whispered out, swallowing before elaborating "Touch your dick, I mean."

In the limited light, she could spot the way Harry's gaze widened for only a moment before he chanced a slide down from her eyes. He touched over the planes of her face, skating over the line of her nose and the pillows of her cupid's bow before flicking to her eyes once more.

"Alright, c'mere," he relented as if he had no other choice but to give into her beggings—as if he wasn't the one with the hard on at the moment, being propositioned by the person who caused it. With his back on the mattress, he opened his arm out to her, beckoning her to his side. "This is gonna be like the first time I taught you how to take a real tequila shot, isn't it?" he prodded, his arm wrapping around her form as she settled into his warm.

(Y/N) huffed at his question, nudging her elbow into his side with her arms bundled between them. Laying on her own side, she was granted his chest as her pillow, his hand spanning along the planes of her back. "This isn't the first time I've done something like this, you know that right?" she told him, one of her hands settling on the bare of his stomach, the position familiar despite the new circumstances.

The static around her shifted, telling her Harry had drawn closer. She felt him before the touch of his nose brushed through rogue strands of her hair. "But, you've never done it with me before, have you?" he murmured, his free hand slipping under the covers and finding her own, "Y'sure y'want to?"

She didn't even need to think before she was nodding her head, cheek smushed against the warmth of his chest. "I want to."

A gentle kiss was pressed to the top of (Y/N)'s head, something silly enough to get her cheeks heating despite the fact she had plans to do something much more scandalous than a little kiss.

"Wanna see?" he asked her, voice dripping down the length of her spine with his hand pulsing around her own.

If not for the fact he was loosely holding her hand, she's sure her entire body would have clenched to match the way her tummy did at the sound of his question. "Please."

"Ooh," he sung, "Polite now, aren't we?"

His teasing tone fell on deaf ears, her attention transfixed on the way his hand shifted from laying over hers to push the fluff of white comforter out of the way of his lap. The low waist of his grey sweats and the peeking waistline of his underwear were the frame around the bulge she had felt earlier pressing into the curve of her bottom.

She didn't even have half the mind to be embarrassed at the way her breathing hitched at the idea of seeing what was underneath, not even when Harry gave his own breathy laugh at her reaction. Her hand on his chest felt restless then, wanting to pluck through the layers of clothing covering him and following through on her offer to help him.

Her fingers curled, the tips pressing into the soft skin of his tummy. "Can... Can I touch you?"

His heartbeat under her ear stuttered, pounding hard against his ribcage just as he swallowed. "Yeah, go 'head, love. Let me jus'—"

Cutting himself off, Harry clutched her close to his side as he used his other hand to shuffle his sweats and underwear down his thighs. His cock sprung up once the waist of his briefs cleared his flushed head, ruddy and warm as he let out a muted hiss at the contact. (Y/N) was grateful for the fact he couldn't see her reactions with the way she was curled against his chest, leaving her to freely widen her eyes and mouth to drop open with a breath puffing out.

Sure, they'd been friends for a long while and weren't necessarily shy around one another, but there was always a line when it came changing or stripping down bare around one another. She'd never seen this much of his body this way—bare lengths of thigh, soft hips, and heavy cock was all new to her.

Harry's hand flexed against the planes of her back, a steadying weight against her form. "Alright?"

Gone was the teasing and the silent laughter. His tone was mellow and attentive, a whisper as if there was anyone around to overhear.

"Uh-huh," she breathed, watching the way the blocks of muscle lining his stomach jumped at the fanning air grazing his skin, "Just... It's big."

As much as she didn't want to add to his inflated ego, there was no way she could lie to him with the evidence right in front of her. He was thick and flushed, a ruddy mushroom head with a vein snaking along the length of his cock. A trimmed nest of hair bordered his base, dark and curling. She itched to wrap her hand around him, feel how heavy he was, the warmth he would carry. Would her fingers complete a circle around his shaft or would she just barely make it? Would he be as soft as he looked?

"Y'can touch if y'want, love. Don't need to be scared—'s jus' me."

The soothing rumble of his voice under her cheek brought her back to reality, finding her fingertips denting the skin of his stomach. Her nails made tiny crescents in the soft skin just under his butterfly tattoo, anchoring her down to keep from reaching despite the clear permission she'd been given to do so.

But, like he said, it's just Harry. Her best friend. Who apparently got hard while thinking about her.

"It's alright?" she prodded, sliding her hand just a fraction of an inch lower over his tummy.

"Promise, (Y/N)," he murmured, dropping another kiss to the top of her head.

When she didn't immediately move, she caught the movement of his hand from the corner of her eye, the same one that had stripped his lower half. He placed the span of his palm over her hand, warming her skin before he curled his fingers gently around. Using that tender grip, he tentatively moved her hand for her, gliding across the strength of his abs and down the stretch of his pelvis. The skin grew soft as her fingertips met the dark curls at his base just before Harry tugged her upwards, guiding her to wrap her fingers around his shaft with his own mimicking the hold around her.

"This alright?" he prodded, his thumb running along the outside of her own in a soothing stroke.

All she could manage at the moment was a small nod of her head, cheek skimming the bare of his skin. It didn't take any prompting of his hand to get her to begin a slow stroke over his length, Harry's hand following right over her. A quiet shifting in his breathing happened under her ear, lungs stuttering at the first shallow touch. His hand dropped then, leaving her to take care of him while he reached for the creases in the sheets at his hip instead.

She familiarized herself with the weight of him in her palm, warm and heavy. The vein snaking around his length pulsed every time she tightened her hand in an experimental flex. His head was spongey and warm when she chanced a small skating of her thumb over his slit, wetness beginning to seep out the longer she touched him. Harry's breathing was shallow though quiet in the silence of his room, leaving her to concentrate on the movements of her hand and the gentle reactions he gave her.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, love?" he responded, a lot less composed than he was a mere moment ago.

"Do you like how I'm doing it? Do you like it this way?" Her questions were shy, but he had told her he would show her how he liked it. As much as she knew he was teasing her before, she hadn't ever done this with him before, obviously, and wanted this to be good for him. The fantasies that had him budging up in his pants, she wanted those to fall flat against the reality.

The hand that had been spanning her back, warming her skin through her thin top traveled upwards until he was stroking over the messy strands of hair on her head. Gentle fingertips carded through, scratching over her scalp with a tender ease. "Doing really good, love, real good," he breathed out, a smile in his voice she would have wanted to see if not for the enticing sight in front of her, "Maybe a little tighter, though, sweetheart. Y'can be a little rough, 's alright."

She nodded her head, cheek cushioned by his stomach. "Okay, let me just..." she trailed off, reluctantly slipping her hand away from his length as she shuffled over his form. Running her clean hand through her hair, she caught a glimpse of him through the strands from the corner of her eye, his gaze dark and heavy on her with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

That gaze followed her as she bent over his length, her breath fanning across his flushed tip as he twitched with a sigh falling from Harry's lips. "What are y'doing, love?" he murmured, his hand that had been warming her back now coming up to brush her hair out of her face.

"I-I don't want to hurt you," she started, bracing her hand on the thick of his thigh, "So I was going to..."

(Y/N) cut herself off as she pursed her lips, saliva falling from between them to drop on his prick. From her peripheral, she could see the way Harry's gaze could have been perceived as pure black the way his pupils blew up. His hand in her hair tightened, keeping the strands from obscuring his vision. The warmth of his eyes traced over her profile, heavy and hot as she used her other hand to pass her fist along to spread the drop of spit. The pad of her thumb swiped over his head, bringing her saliva and the blurt of precum that made it's way out as he watched her over him, slicking over his length and covering him.

A whispered curse fell from Harry's lips, fanning through the warmed air between them with his eyes fighting to fall closed. Slick noises escaped from under her fist as she stroked over his length, warming him with her palm. She took his request, tightening her hold on him and quickening her pace to something rough. In reaction, she saw the way his thighs tensed, fist clenching in the wayward sheets at his hip while his other held her hair in a firm grip.

"Better?" she prodded, looking to him with a flutter of her lashes.

"So good, baby," he nodded his head, trying this new petname for her without much thought, "So nice to me." It was a bit silly what he was rambling out with hooded eyes and puffy lips, but that didn't stop her heart from attempting to beat out of her chest and her stomach from tightening. "Settle down on me, (Y/N). Relax with me."

His hands on her hair trailed down her body, returning to her back as he urged her to replace her spot on his chest. Cushioning her cheek on his tummy, (Y/N) warmed him, the movements of her hand lagging for only a second before she picked up again. This way, she could hear the rhythm of his heart, the pacing of his breathing underneath her. She felt each of his reactions before she heard him.

Harry had to prioritize his breathing, small moans and curses falling from his lips as he ran his hand in sporadic circles across her back. (Y/N) stayed as quiet as she could, insisting on hearing every tiny noise he made while she worked over him. She wanted to remember every detail of this moment.

Her hand glided over his length, feeling every ridge and vein with her thumb swiping over his spongy tip. Everything was slick and sticky, exactly how she felt between her thighs as she watched the way she took care of him.

The hand in her hair tightened for a moment, grabbing her attention just before Harry's rumbled tone filled the bathroom."This might be kind of weird to say but—"

"I think we're kind of past weird at this point," (Y/N) let out a laugh, feeling Harry's chest heave with his own breathless one. His laughter was cut off with a shuddering breath as she circled his slit with the pad of her thumb, precum following out right after.

"I was jus' gonna say that y'have really soft hands," he continued, voice sounding strained as he finished, "Like—Like, I know we hold hands sometimes, so I knew they were soft, but I don't think I've ever realized how soft and warm y'are, love. 'S re-really nice."

Normally, she would have ribbed him with a tease for going so soft on her (as if that didn't make it heart flutter, but that wasn't something she wasn't going to talk about), but all his compliment elicited in her was warm cheeks and a stuttered heart. "Thanks," she smiled.

"Don't let it go to your head," he chided, his hand squeezing down to her shoulder as if to scold her, "You're already a narcissist."

As much as she was sure he wanted to sound biting, just like he was when he really teased her, everything he said came out with a sigh and a gentle squeeze to her skin. There wasn't much bite to be had with a breathy voice. Instead, (Y/N) only turned her head just enough to press a soft kiss to his tummy, her hand bundled between her chest and his side reaching out to pet over his skin.

Her eyes were glued to his length as he jumped in her hand, another streak of warm precum falling down the length as she roughly stroked her hand down his shaft. He was covered in a pearly sheen, her hand coated in his spit and the slick of him. She could feel the way the prominent vein along the bottom throbbed, his thighs wound tight and tense on either side of her hand.

"Are you close?" she prodded, noting the way he was forcing himself to keep his hips from bucking upwards into her fist.

"Um—Yeah," he got out, swallowing around his tongue, "Kind of lame, but, y'feel really good, love. Not gonna take much more to f-finish me off."

"I'm happy you feel good," she murmured, quickening her pace and tracing her thumb over his tip just the way she was learning he liked. A quiet laugh could be heard under her ear.

With her hand tight over his length, she worked him over faster and tighter than she had started, the slick noises loud in the quiet of Harry's bedroom. She saw each reaction of his prick in her hand, along with the pounding of his heartbeat under her ear. His hand on her back turned heavy, fingertips digging into her back. Even his hips twitched as he tried to restrain himself from fucking into her hand.

"I-I'm gonna cum, baby, okay? Ju-Jus' let go if y'don't want the mess, fuck," Harry prattled, sounding a bit out of it as he tried to speak. A string of curses interrupted him before he was able to continue, "So good, baby, so fucking good. Can't believe you've been h-hiding this from me."

"I didn't know you wanted me to touch you—wasn't hiding," she countered, sure it was falling on deaf ears.

"Always wanted you, baby, can't believe y'didn't know that," he grumbled out, his hips shifting just as she felt another twitch of his cock in her hand. "F-Fuck, love, 'm cumming, 'm cumming."

Just as he spoke, his thighs clenched, balls tightened, and cum spurted out of his tip. Despite his warning about the mess—a completely warranted warning as far as she could see—(Y/N) didn't remove her hand. His warmth roped down her hand, dropping down over her fingers and slicking her even more as she continued working him through the high. Every pump of her hand granted her a whispered curse or a stunted breath. Harry's hand on her back kept her squished against his side, warming her more than the crewneck she had adorning her body.

The mess he made came to a dribble, only small streams coming out when (Y/N) squeezed with her stroking. Ropes of his cum mostly decorated her hand with small spots having landed on the curls bordering his base and the strength of his thighs. Soon enough, it was too much, Harry hissing as she continued to touch him, (Y/N) taking the cue and removing her hand.

She felt drained as she laid on his tummy, hearing the erratic rate of his heart as he softened. Her eyes came to a close as if she had been the one that had been drained of an orgasm, breathing along with him as he hugged her as well as he could with only one arm around her. (Y/N) cuddled close to him, placing a distracted kiss to his stomach once more.

Allowing him extra moments to come down, (Y/N) used her clean hand to help ruck up his pants, tucking him back inside his underwear and sweats. The displaced comforter he had pushed out of the way what felt like hours ago, had been tugged back up over his hips, cushioning around him.

"C'mere, sweetheart," Harry crooned, voice tired as he spoke for the first time with clarity in his tone, "Let me clean y'up."

(Y/N) turned to face him with a soft smile on her lips, shuffling closer to him despite the arm he refused to drop from around her. He sat up in lethargic movements, back against the headboard before he reached towards the box of tissues he had standing on his bedside table. He gave her a tender look as he reached for her wrist, a gentle grasp around her hand.

"You alright?" she asked as he cleaned off her hand, twisting and folding the paper as he dirtied it.

A breathy laugh fell from his lips, the sound not feeling the same now that she kew what it was like to hear it from his chest. "Yeah, I think 'm doing alright. You?"

"I'm good," she smiled, twisting her hand so he could clean up her fingers where he had dripped over her.

"Give me a minute, and we'll take care of you, yeah?" he told her, looking at her through his lashes before he dipped his head down and pressed a delicate kiss to her fingertips. He tossed the soiled tissue in the bin sat a few feet from his bed, the discarding something of an afterthought as he lingered in his kiss.

"What do you mean?" she asked, mind swirling as she replaced herself against his chest, cheek on his shoulder.

A careful kiss was pressed to the top of her head, his arm wrapping familiarly around her waist. "'S not fair that 'm the only one that feels good tonight, is it? Gotta take care of m'girl, too."

My girl—something else she was going to have to think about later.

Tipping her head, she looked up at him with a quiet shake of her head. "We don't have to do that, it's okay."

A furrow touched his brow, his other hand coming up to cradle her jaw. "I want to, baby. 'M not trying to take advantage of y'being so nice to me—can't be the only one cumming tonight."

"No, no, it's okay," she stopped him once more, giving him a gentle smile, "I'm too tired, I just wanna sleep with you."

His gaze dropped over her features, tracing each plane before stopping on the pillows of her cupid's bow. He looked unsure until he matched her eyes once more. She really was too tired, she wasn't lying, especially after the work she put into that.

"Can I kiss you, then? If it's not too... weird."

"I think we're kinda past weird tonight, right?" she smiled, the grin growing when Harry nudged his nose gently against hers. "You can kiss me."

That was all Harry wanted to hear before he dipped his head down and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was decidedly softer, less urgent than what had happened in this same bed only a few moments earlier. It was a funny thought, (Y/N) tried to fend off. She had jerked him off before she had ever even kissed him.

The contact was innocent, quiet and fleeting. Harry shared small pecks with her, seals of his lips over hers over and over before he slotted his bottom lip between her two. His body was her anchor, arm around her waist and his hand on her jaw keeping her settled in the moment. He only stopped when he could feel her smiling against his kiss, drawing just enough away to nudge his nose against hers once more.

(Y/N) fluttered her eyes open to catch him already looking at her, a smile on his lips that matched the one that had bloomed on her own. His hand on her cheek grazed his thumb over the height of her cheekbone before he dropped to wrap both arms around her waist. He hugged her tightly against his body, prompting her to cling to him with a hug around his middle.

Her face was tucked against his neck as he spoke to her, the full of his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of her neck. "You're m'best friend, baby. You know that?"

She couldn't help but feel like he meant it a little bit differently than when he'd said it before.

"You're my best friend, too, H."

She definitely meant it in a different way than she ever had before.

—————

thank u smsmsmsm for reading and to whoever requested this little idea a super long time ago!!! sorry for any mistakes and ig you have any ideas or requests of your own pls send them in !!!

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artist-faur · 6 months ago

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@northern-passage's Raffle for Palestine is live, and I'm one of the artists! The fundraiser post here goes in more detail regarding the details of the raffle. Go to the post and donate now!

As for more details regarding my art, because, uh I haven't posted before lol: it's all going to be done traditional, in dip pen, ink washes, fineliners and pencils, in black and white. I am offering a half-body of a single character. The character can either from a piece of interactive fiction or something else - though I would personally prefer that that something else is a smaller, lesser known piece of media (game, story, etc,) an OC (D&D characters also fall under this!) or otherwise something that would not get art otherwise! I tend to be comfortable with historical clothing (research is my jam! Send me on as many rabbit holes as possible!). I am open to references you would like to send, as well as imitating specific items of clothing, jewelry, poses and so on. Backgrounds will be kept simple - nothing that interacts with the character - and elegant! Higher resolution versions of my works above and details under the cut!

Elizabethan rascal! Their clothing is inspired by a variety of Elizabethan portraits of nobles. I used fine liners and ink washes!

A tiefling character! This is a "line-art" style. I used a reference from @adorkastock (that I cannot find again for the life of me) for the pose! I used dip pen and ink wash for the background.

Victorian butch lady! This is a sketch with ink wash and I used a brush to ink.

Minoan lady! I really like Minoan art and its depiction of people and their clothes, and I really wanted to do a sketch inspired by that in my own style. Here, I used fineliners and ink washes.

#GO DONATE!!! NOW #And make sure to reblog! We need as many people as possible seeing this!#I really hope that the b&w style is up to people's taste haha!

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idakyrie · 2 years ago

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(This is part of an AU and a LOT OF TEXT asdfg) WHAT IF.... That weird deformed shape of Fake Peppino (AKA Bruno) is actually that way because of a brain problem (known as TBI)? That would explain that peculiar way of behaving (Silly? Goofy? Childish? Doesn't think straight? Doesn't know what he's doing? Almost 0 common sense, that almost permanent expression on his face, that strange way of moving... He is doing his best to stay on his feet and not melt completely (even if it shows a bit), he can barely speak coherently, among many things (WE MUST PROTECT HIM).

I'd like to think that the brain is the only organ he has, because the rest is just... Mmh, slime? amalgam? xD, it could be a HUMAN brain that Pizzahead (his creator) got (I like to think he is actually someone insane in a bad way and too different when it comes to his lab, just pretending to smile, hints of psychopath), that brain belonged to another chef, here I clarify about getting 2 adns: Peppino and Bruno (this last I mean the one from the abandoned pizzeria and yes, he is dead, where the hell Pizzahead was going to get that brain from? Actually dead for trusting a humanoid pizza)

So Fake Peppino has 2 adns? Yeah, that makes sense... Although Peppino and him don't look quite the same (Although Pizzahead's goal was that, to be the perfect impersonator), except for the clothes BUT here comes my favorite part, his stable form.

Actually, his brain problem can be treated, he would still have 2 forms: stable and unstable, this unstable form is the one we all know, it would be present whenever he feels threatened, in danger or any other negative emotion (although he can take any form whenever he wants and be a mix of both forms).

Some history: Bruno is the first "clone" to be created, it went well, everything was perfect and one more minion... UNTIL... Pizzahead has a complicated, abusive, stupid, manipulative and ignorant attitude, basically he never treated him well, it started with scolding and even abuse (And yup! it was Pizzahead himself who caused him great injury) Why? He is a demanding and perfectionist guy, the clone had to come out EQUAL to Peppino (the irony is that he hates him and only does it to fuck up his life, to be able to replace him with some of the SO MANY clones out there) at the time he thought it was a GOOD IDEA to mix both adns and come out the same as the original, I repeat that this guy is an idiot?

Something funny is that after that he made other prototypes of clones (Classified as second generation idk) but these... None came out well, they are aberrations and can be found in a frozen chamber, he doesn't want to relive that moment and kept trying until he finally succeeded, the famous Peppino clones that can be found everywhere in the lab, inferior versions, weaker and more animal behavior than the first "clone".

Here comes another problem, Pizzahead paid more attention and was nicer to those clones, making Bruno jealous and annoyed, he never received a good treatment from him (Still he was loyal) and he had to fix and clean up all the atrocities the clones did, that means ALL the time, he could not defend himself and lived in silence, developing a great hatred towards them, precisely his behavior changes drastically to the most aggressive, just hearing a "croak" makes him angry (MODO BERSEK GOES BRR)

Many years enduring physical and emotional pain until he ends up in what? In an abandoned pizza restaurant? Just him being abandoned being very bad in all aspects? Completely alone for years, the only contact he had with others were those clones that invaded his "new home" (explaining why there are so many peppino corpses in that pizzeria).

(that girl in the image is an oc of mine hshs)

Bruno still has that silly and innocent personality, sensitive but at the same time disturbing if something bothers him. Paternal sense, playful and a big fan of Peppino, sometimes he annoys him by imitating him HAHA. Does he keep that frog behavior? YES! It's not as obvious as the clones because he knows how to control it.

At the beginning he doesn't like to be touched, after all the problems he went through he doesn't even know if there are good people in this world, so gaining Bruno's trust is a bit complicated but if you talk nice to him (as you would do with your pet XD) the interaction will be effective.

Does he have traumas? Besides he doesn't want to see Pizzahead and the clones again, or there will be a massacre, it's the first time someone is nice to him, he's afraid of abandonment and losing the little progress he has made... AND NEVER EVER SEE OR HEAR ANYTHING RELATED TO ANY LABORATORY AGAIN, his life was hell there, anything related either scares or angers him.

If you have any questions, you can ask and also, sorry if there are errors in my English, it is not my native language, I hope you can understand ;w;

#pizza tower #pizza tower fanart #fake peppino #pizza tower bruno #peppino spaghetti #peppino clones #gustavo #pizzahead #theory time #pizza tower au #pizza tower oc #doodles #my art

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samgelina-jolie · 2 years ago

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It all started a week ago. Steve had come along to The Hideout, decked in his darkest polo shirt. It was the first gig he'd come to since him and Eddie had officially- as Robin put it- 'got their shit together'.

Steve had met the band plenty of times already, and while they'd been pretty standoffish at first, he liked to think he got along with them pretty well. Jeff actually shared a similar taste in music (even admitting to liking ABBA because it reminded him of his mother) and he'd known enough about Star Wars and a mix of Dustin's interests to win over Seth. It was harder to read Gareth, but Steve had assumed they were at least acquaintances.

That was until Steve had walked up to the bar where Gareth was talking to some girl, and then Gareth had said the meanest thing imaginable.

"He's my buddy's boyfriend."

Eddie hadn't seen what the big deal was. But Steve understood the importance of befriending your partner's best friend.

Well, back in high school, Steve had never really bothered with his girlfriend's friends. He'd focused on putting in effort with the girls he found attractive, wooing them with flowers and gifts. The girls who he wanted to like him did, he didn't really care how much the other girls didn't. The only job the best friend really had in his mind was picking up the pieces after he left those girls in the dust.

That was all before Nancy, of course. She'd been so adamant about him making an impression on Barb, so he'd tried. He invited her to parties, kept Carol and Tommy off her back, even tried to back her up once or twice when Barb and Nancy were bickering.

And it worked out... kind of. Barb had still rolled her eyes whenever Steve opened his mouth, but she was also the one who pulled him aside and saved him a whole lot of embarrassment and heartache.

"I'm telling you this because I would want to know, and because I guess you're not the worst person in the world. Nancy has been hanging out with Jonathan a lot lately... I just think maybe you should pay a bit more attention to it."

But besides him and Nancy as a couple not working out, he'd realised how important being on good terms with the person you're dating's friends is to being a good boyfriend. Which is why it was integral that he became proper friends with Eddie's best friend.

"What are you wearing?"

Steve had just walked into the Munson trailer. He'd spent nearly an hour trying to perfect his hair, so he's mildly offended that his outfit is the first thing his boyfriend noticed. Steve glanced down at his shirt with the huge Green Day logo printed onto it. He wasn't sure why Eddie looked so appalled, it wasn't dirty or anything.

"Oh, Gareth let me borrow it. Cute right?" Eddie's nose scrunched up even further, full on glaring at the offensive item.

"I can't let you into my room with that shirt on."

"Well hopefully once we get to your room neither of us will have our shirts on" Steve chuckled, leaning in for a kiss but Eddie turned his head.

"I'm serious, big boy. The polos and tight jeans, you're whole hot preppy look actually, that all really does it for me and you know it. But this?" He pulled at the fabric of the shirt. "This is the one piece of clothing I never want to see you in."

Steve scoffed. Eddie pushed him gently away with a shake of his head.

"I'm turning off the benefits."

"What benefits?"

"The sex benefits, no more sex until you admit you're not a Green Day fan and we burn that shirt."

"Eddie this is my in with Gareth! He's finally starting to warm up to me." Steve whined. "Besides, you can't just, like, turn off us having sex!"

"Oh yes I can. All I have to do is think about you in this abominable outfit and my boner just-" He whistles, imitating his finger deflating. Steve pouted. He knew rationally he could just give Gareth back the shirt, but that would mean embarrassingly admitting he didn't like Green Day to Gareth and then trying to find another in with him.

So no, Eddie was just being unreasonable.

Anyway, he was totally bluffing about the sex. Steve hoped.

"It's been five days Robin! I mean, we haven't gone that long without having sex since.. since we started having sex!" Steve cried, following the woman around as she restocked the shelves. Even though he couldn't see her face he could tell she was rolling her eyes.

It was a serious situation though, at least in Steve's opinion. He and Eddie hung out all the time, and while he obviously enjoyed doing other things with his boyfriend, he wished the other man would at least have the decency to not be so sexy while performing daily tasks. Steve had been this close to jumping him in the frozen food section of the grocery store yesterday.

And he knew he wasn't the only desperate one, Eddie was suffering too. Obviously he'd assumed Steve would cave after a day, because he'd been all jumpy and grouchy for nearly a week. And he kept making that face that Steve recognised all too well whenever Steve did anything even slightly suggestive. Like when he'd bent down to put his laundry in the dryer, and when he turned back around Eddie was beet red and avoiding eye contact.

"Have you tried breaking out the old Harrington seduction techniques yet?" Robin shrugged, obviously not bothered by the fact her best friend was on the verge of death due to lack-of-sex-with-his-really-hot-boyfriend disease.

The thing was, he had tried his old methods. He tried wearing tighter shirts, that strained around his arms and showed off his midriff (but always making sure he was wearing some kind of Green Day memorabilia, because damn him if he wasn't going to be right about this). He'd invited Eddie along to his and Lucas' basketball game. He even tried straight up begging, knowing how much that usually gets Eddie worked up.

And nothing!

Although, there was still one move he hadn't tried yet...

"You want to what?" Eddie shot him an incredulous look.

"Help you study, of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't help you with your problems? Besides I have this really neat method to help you revise." Steve let himself into the trailer and Eddie's room. He wasn't wearing a Green Day shirt today, but he did have a wristband, something he knew Eddie had spotted already as he walked into the room with his arms crossed.

"Right. And what method would this be?"

"Every time you get an answer right, I take off a item of clothing, and vice versa." Steve plopped himself down on the unmade bed, which he'd missed dearly. Eddie hadn't even let them take naps together in his room, insisting 'spooning almost always leads to sex with you'.

Eddie considered his offer carefully, before nodding with a shit eating grin. Steve cheered internally.

"Great!" Steve smiled before adding "Your rings all count as one item by the way." He tried not to look too smug at the way Eddie's confident grin faltered.

The game reached its boiling point very quick. Eddie had known more about Geography then Steve had expected, which reflected in the fact he only had his boxers and one sock left on. Eddie, however, wasn't doing too much better, sat in only his jeans (and Steve suspected no underwear underneath).

He's not sure who kissed who first, but suddenly Steve was pressed against the mattress, Eddie's thigh between his legs. Excitement coursed through him, his body so receptive to Eddie's touch after so long he wasn't even embarrassed at the noises he was letting out. His hips bucked up, causing Eddie to groan into his mouth.

"So the Green Day thing?" Eddie mumbled between kisses down Steve's neck. The noise Steve made was loud and high pitched, almost drowning out the man's next words. "It's over then?"

Steve paused, the hand that had been trailing down his boyfriend's chest pushed firmly against him as he pulled away.

"Over because you've let it go, right?" He mumbled. Eddie pulled back, his lips red and glossy.

"No, over because you let it go?" Steve huffed, sitting up and pulling his clothes back on. He tugged his jeans on in annoyance, storming out of the bedroom.

"You know what, I'm turning off the benefits now! No sex until you admit Green Day are better than... than Dio!" Steve yelled. He was irritated and extremely worked up but he was also incredibly stubborn. He heard a squawk of protest from behind him as he made his way outside.

"That wasn't even the rule!" Eddie called out, but Steve ignored him. He was not loosing this fight.

Listen, Metal music was fine, Steve endured listening to it with Eddie like he endured watching sports games with Steve. He was content in the knowledge that not loving every single one of each other's interest didn't mean they didn't love each other.

Punk was fine too, it still wasn't Steve's thing really, but it was okay and while Steve couldn't tell the difference, according to Gareth there was one. A huge one, if the way he'd been ranting about it for the past hour was anything to go by.

But between fighting with his boyfriend (because it was a genuine fight at this point), not having any sex for nearly two weeks, and being stuck listening to someone talk about something you have no interest in for hours, Steve couldn't take it anymore.

"I don't like punk music! I listen to Queen and Cyndi Lauper and sometimes Madonna and happy music that I can dance to without thinking about America's political landscape!" He blurted out. Gareth stopped his rambling about how Rob Harper was a better drummer than Pete Something, flashing Steve a confused expression.

"Then why were you pretending to?" He asked.

"I... I just didn't want you to just see me as 'Eddie's boyfriend'. I wanted to be your friend and Jeff told me you like punk music so I brought it up and..."

"Look, you are Eddie's boyfriend. Yeah, you're an okay dude, but I can acknowledge that without us having to do the whole friendship thing too, you know?" Gareth shrugged. Steve deflated.

"Right." He said, quickly making an excuse and leaving. Gareth shrugged off the weird feeling the guy's sad puppy dog eyed had given him, grabbing Steve's fries.

He felt kind of embarrassed that he'd been talking for ages with someone who didn't even care. He supposed it was nice of Steve to make the effort, Gareth wasn't aware he'd been trying so hard honestly. Jeff and Seth had warmed up to him pretty quickly but he thought that was just because they were just softies that were no immune to the 'Harrington Charm'.

"Steve?!" A loud yell startled him out of his thoughts.

Eddie stormed into the bar, wearing- holy shit, Gareth felt like he must have hit his head and started hallucinating. This day had taken such a weird turn, because there Eddie Munson stood before him decked out in a 'I heart Green Day' shirt. He also looked like it was taking every ounce of self control not to rip it off his body like it burned.

"Finally come around on the punk scene, Munson?" Gareth chortled. Eddie threw a fry at his face.

"Shut your trap, I need to find Steve before one of the gremlins sees me in this, they're too impressionable." He muttered, taking a seat as he looked around the bar.

"If this is a Steve thing you can stop anyway man, he admitted he doesn't really like them that much. It's kind of weird I mean, who lies about being into something to get someone to like them?"

"Dude, I spent the whole summer eating ice cream as a lactose intolerant person because Steve worked at Scoops Ahoy. He was just trying to find something for you to be friends about." Eddie shot him an unimpressed look, which Gareth thought was a bit high-and-mighty considering he just admitted to basically poisoning himself on a weekly basis for a guy he'd thought was straight at the time.

"Why exactly?"

"I don't know, Steve likes being close to people? He's basically besties with his ex girlfriend, man. Why are you so adamant he can't be yours?" Gareth considered this.

He remembered when Eddie had first told the band he was dating Steve Harrington. They'd all thought he was kidding, but there he was at their next rehearsal, cheering them on and spending his breaks holding Eddie's hand.

Gareth thought maybe it was a joke to Steve. Messing with the guy who likes men by making him think he has a shot with the former prom king. He thought it would end with Eddie in tears, and that had probably made him a bit more defensive than he needed to be. Maybe there was a small part of him, no matter how great Steve seemed, that still believed the guy was setting his best friend up for heartbreak.

"Look, I get that you might have reservations about him. But all I'm saying is- and I've got about a dozen preschoolers and multiple full grown adults that would back me up- Steve Harrington is a pretty great friend to have. So if he offers you friendship, you should take it." Eddie snatched a handful of fries as he got up, leaving Gareth alone at the bar.

Steve was half way out the door, wearing nothing but Eddie's Dio vest and grey sweatpants when he saw Eddie. He was standing in front of him, eyeing Steve like a starved man presented with a stake. Steve guessed he probably had a similar look, smiling at the Green Day shirt the man was wearing.

"Oh my god take your pants off." Eddie basically growled, slamming the front door to Steve's house shut as he stalked towards him. He pulled Steve into a ferocious kiss, hands quickly travelling down to his ass.

"Leave the shirt on." Steve gasped out. Eddie let out a muffled groan into his neck. They ran to the bedroom, loosing the vest and both of their pants on the way.

"Steve? You home, man?" Gareth heard a loud noise inside, followed by hopping, then Steve opened the door slightly. He was sweaty and shirtless, and his hair was a mess. He'd probably just been working out or whatever jocks did in their spare time.

"Listen, I'm sorry about what I said at the bar. You're a cool guy, I'd like for us to be friends, really. I even thought of something we could bond over; haircare. I've actually been meaning to ask you for some tips anyway." He admitted. Steve beamed, Gareth was almost scared the incredibly sweaty man was about to pull him into a hug. He didn't, he just kept smiling.

"That's real nice for you two, maybe next he'll ask you to prom!" Eddie's voice rang out from somewhere behind the door. Steve flushed a little and hushed him. Gareth was kind of confused as to why Eddie voice sounded so coarse and breathless, he didn't think Eddie had ever voluntarily exercised in his life.

"I would really like that, Gareth. I'll tell you everything you need to know, come by anytime. Except right now." He smiled again before slamming the door. Gareth heard more noises inside, wondering what the fuck they were up to until he heard a loud moan. Oh God, Gareth started running.

Still, he couldn't help but smile. It was always nice to make more friends.

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doveywovy · 4 months ago

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A drabble trade with @domoz, with the prompts "marriage hunt" & "cultural differences"!

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This was the first time in over two hundreds years that the Senju had allowed another clan to be present for the midsummer hunt, much less partake. An act of trust, Hashirama had called it. Tobirama wasn’t entirely opposed, but he did wish Aniki had bothered to explain the details of the ceremony to the other clan.

The Senju Midsummer Marriage Hunt was a celebration of life. It was a matter of connecting to nature, reconnecting to their place in nature. The intricacies of the rituals surrounding it, as most long-ago formed religious practices, were as detailed as they were endless. Dressed only in cotton, bringing only bow and arrows as their weapons, and all of them barefoot- the Senju had taken great efforts to ensure the event remained connected in all ways back to nature. Hashirama had reassured him multiple times that it wouldn’t be trouble- that the Uchiha, as a clan well known for their hunting prowess, would not disturb things where it mattered.

The sun high, the day hot, and the Uchiha’s arrival to the meadow was already proving his brother wrong.

They arrived in a burst of color through the brushwork, making noise that shinobi normally are naturally devoid of. Some are playing instruments, drums and flutes, and there’s laughter and yelling and the clatter of wooden geta knocking together. Tobirama makes a mental note to direct the hunt in the opposite direction from which the Uchiha had come; there would certainly be nothing to catch along the trail after that terrible racket.

Despite all the noise, it’s a smaller group then Tobirama would’ve expected. No children, no elderly; only a small group of presumed-shinobi.

Hashirama’s welcoming smile grows strained, but he still calls out to the procession. “Hello, hello! So glad you accepted our invitation!”

Madara Uchiha makes his way to the front and accepts Hashirama’s excited hug with good nature. As the noise finally died down, the two groups were able to observe each other- and Tobirama is surprised to find matching looks of disdain across the way. Both the Senju and the Uchiha clearly do not approve of each other’s choice in clothing.

The Uchiha are dressed in finary. Delicate silks, layers of jewelry. Even Madara has bothered to tie his hair back in an imitation of a presentable style. They look dressed to meet the daimyo, not for a day and a half of hunting on a boiling hot summer day.

Izuna shoves his way forward. He’s dressed even nicer than the rest, with bright red makeup smeared at the corners of his eyes and his hair a glossy well-groomed braid along his back. He gestures at Tobirama, turns to face Madara, and says, “I told you!”

“Izuna.” Madara responds, in a reprimanding tone near-identical to Hashirama’s. It’s a little funny, but Tobirama hides his mirth for fear of making the situation worse.

Hikaku- and ah, unusual for so many members of the Uchiha main family to have come all together- makes his way to Izuna’s side and pats him reassuringly on the shoulder. “We mustn’t judge the Senju for….aesthetic differences. If their tradition calls for more practical clothing, we should respect it.”

He says it very nicely, but it certainly sounds judgemental. Tobirama would be offended if he wasn’t practicing a very similar judgment of the Uchiha tradition. Dressing up for hunting in old growth forests seems unbearably foolish, regardless of historical precedent.

“Look, look, this is my fault. I really should’ve explained it better.” Hashirama offers, which does seem to mollify both halves of the crowd. “We Senju host a hunt every midsummer in honor of all the marriages in the past year. It’s a way to reconnect with our place in the natural order, which is why we tend to dress down and-”

“Honor the marriages?” Madara stutters out. All of the Uchiha, in fact, seem more confused at Hashirama’s words.

“Yes, exactly! Because of- you know, the spring babies growing up and…” His voice trails off.

“The Uchiha,” Hikaku explains, face flushed a bright red, “Have our own tradition called a marriage hunt. A tradition where a shinobi can catch a spouse. We had assumed…”

Tobirama waits until the clamor from his own clan dies down- outrage from some, certainly, but more laughter than anything. Such an outrageous miscommunication, it’s hard for any of them to find anger and not humor.

“I believe, with some effort, our traditions could be merged.” Tobirama offers politely, and ignores the weight of a very intense stare at his words.

#i wrote this as #tobiizu #but its honestly open to multiple ship interpretations #including multiship actually. that would be a very fun additional cultural difference #the uchiha all dress nice because its a WEDDING to them #meanwhile the senju are going full hippie #truly the worst combo

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angstics · 2 years ago

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i finally articulated my opinion on my "is gerard way doing drag" question. my definition of drag is when a person impersonates, exaggerates, or appropriates a mode of gender expression. drag can be artistic or political (or both). drag can be an identity. drag and transgender identity are confused as the same thing. for some, it is. what is considered cross dressing can also be considered drag. it's important to note that drag is essential to queer culture, and how the us government harasses queer people through cross dressing, and now anti-drag, laws. we wouldnt be here talking about pop artists doing drag without drag performers and nonbinary-trans-gnc people.

to some people, a self-identified man in a female-identified dress is drag. "cross dressing" depends on cishet norms. queer people, especially nonbinary-trans-gnc people, have called to dismantle the assignment of gender to clothing. under that lens, a man in a dress is just a man in a dress -- for it to be drag, context and intent matters. that's how you get women doing female drag, or androgynous people doing what gerard way's been doing this last year on tour.

in asking "is gerard way doing drag?", im assigning importance to the topic. does it matter? within my understanding, drag is about intent and context as much as gender presentation. intent and context is what makes something important. therefore: understanding why the question is important solves it.

male music artists have a long history of cross dressing and doing drag. there's a good chance plugging any dude into a search engine with "drag" or "skirt" will bring something up. bowie, queen, nirvana, manic street preachers, placebo. here's a list. newer artists: lil nas x, harry styles, anthony green, pete wentz, young thug. some are impersonating female caricatures, some are masculinizing female clothes (long, ill-fitting, straight). some, like molko and lil nas, wear feminine clothes without exaggerating or masculinizing. gerard is in that same grey area.

male music artists have a long history of cross dressing and doing drag -- photos: "i want to break free" mv by queen (1984) / placebo in london (oct 1998) / lil nas x at audacy beach festival (dec 5, 2021) / fall out boy at rock for people (june 17, 2022)

all that history is why it was so weird when kerrang called gerard's riot fest "dress and heels" "a compelling show of contrarian anti-rock star eccentricity". it is not anti-rock star, at least not as described. it may be compelling, contrarian, and eccentric, but no reviewer really cares to analyze why. the closest they get is by identifying non-binary connection (them.us) and its relation to the "minefield that is American gender politics today" (latimes.com).

fans were struck by way's outfits for a lot of other reasons.

1. we have to get it out of the way that they just looked hot -- gerard is perpetually attractive, skirts are pretty. easy equation.

2. he has a long history of gender nonconformity. more on that in my #mcr queer studies tag. gerard is a 45 year old famously androgynous person who doesnt do labels, aligns himself with gender nonconformity (2014 reddit ama, 2018 advocate article, 2015 he/they tweet), and doesnt seem to care to be known as a man.

3. the tour outfits were well-fitted. many were crafted by skilled designer marina toybina and her team. which leads to ->

4. the outfits were very casual and very feminine. as mentioned, most men opt for masculine, ill-fitting skirts. which is to say they are NOT showing leg and they are definitely not showing ass. gerard doesnt steer clear from shortness or tightness or movement. he also dresses in ways people dress day to day -- the miniskirt is as casual as the shorts as casual as the jeans. there's some discussion to be had about what casual means -- he could be imitating expected presentation or just using basics, like his frequent shirt and pants.

the miniskirt is as casual as the shorts as casual as the jeans -- photos: firefly music festival (sept 23, 2022) / uncasville (sept 1, 2022) / eden project night 1 (may 16, 2022)

5. there was variety. many outfits, many types. he wasnt just doing pure femininity. some looks were high concept, some low concept. some gendered, some genderless. some feminine, some masculine. it was playful. its honesty evident in its fluidity yet cohesiveness. expanded in the next points ->

6. they incorporate elements of masculinity and gender neutrality concurrent with the feminine. his aggressive, energetic performance style often doesnt mind what people are seeing when his skirt lifts or shirt droops. he has little to no make-up -- if he does, it's stage and not glam. the closest he gets is the agender black swan look at boston night 1, the stage contour at wwwy night 3, and dubious lipstick at firefly. he also maintains the same hairstyle: barely styled, not straightened-curled. pinned a few times, gelled back some other times.

he has little to no make-up -- if he does, it's stage and not glam -- photos: boston night 1 (sept 7, 2022) / when we were young night 3 (oct 29, 2022) / firefly music festival (sept 23, 2022)

7. the character outfits weren't caricatures, like green's sleazy hooker or queen's uptight housewives. gerard's characters were appropriated but not exaggerated. cheerleader, nurse, manson girl, jackie o, princess diane, st joan. all figures of pop culture. he wore them as they were. even comparing green and way's similar white-green cheerleader costumes there's a difference in presentation. green wears long leggings, way wears shorts. green's costume is based on a stranger things character, way's is a custom remade vintage outfit. green exhibits the masculinization of feminine clothes which way subverts. this comparison highlights what makes way's outfits different, and therefore exciting to talk about.

green exhibits the masculinization of feminine clothes which way subverts -- photos: saosin in garden grove, ca (oct 27, 2022) / mcr in nashville, tn (aug 23, 2022)

8. and when he played with masculinity, it was in a way that was dubbed "boydrag". the new jersey night 2 casino singer look was a dramatic caricature that heightened masculine features until they were pure style... the defintion of camp. he had a mustache -- thin like john waters or a confirmed bachelor, and drawn on with eyeliner. he had a suit -- a pink-gold, glittery woman's cut jacket with a glittery bowtie and pleated shirt. the dramatic flair is accentuated by the black eye make-up, the frank sinatra "my way" cover, the drum tag: "the house always wins".

the defintion of camp -- photos: new jersey night 2 (sept 21, 2022) 1 / 2

when i asked which outfits others considered drag, all replies identified the casino singer and jackie o as drag and the rest as "just clothes". this relation made me understand why the rest couldnt be drag despite all the connections i talked about above. the jackie o outfit doesnt exaggerate the source like casino singer, but the source itself is both highly dramatic and highly gendered. cheer is gendered but not highly dramatic, st joan dramatic but not highly gendered. diane is gendered and dramatic, but not highly. the list goes on and on. it's a fine line. especially cheer could tip into drag for me.

but the source itself is both highly dramatic and highly gendered -- photos: mcr at riot fest (oct 12, 2022) / jackie kennedy onassis (jan 3, 1971)

if drag is understood in this way, simply wearing gendered clothes isnt drag. the look itself has to be about the performance of gender, however that may be presented. that’s the importance of classification. we can see what the artist is doing.

#mcr #gerard way #mcr queer studies #mcr performance studies #qessay #mcr fashion studies

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