#like sure its nice and would be handy but its not needed

[i-am-simply-here]

My boss is mad at me bc I'm refusing to become a notary 😩 I knew he'd take at as me saying a simply didn't want to no matter my reasoning but its frustrating that he won't listen when I say its honestly a waste of my already little amount of energy

[carebearbussy]

𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙, 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙨 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙮 𝙨𝙠𝙮𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙪𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙮𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙪𝙥.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩, 𝙥 𝙞𝙣 𝙫, 𝙥*𝙨𝙨𝙮 𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩h (𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙙), 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣, 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨, 𝙘𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙨, 𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙟𝙤𝙗, 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙟𝙤𝙗 (𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙚𝙣𝙙).

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 4.3𝙠 (𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮…)

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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You were sooo tired.

Sukuna had woken you up at the crack of dawn, seemingly out of nowhere. He had apparently informed you about your early awakening, but you cannot recall such events from him. But you knew how he became when he was upset, you you sucked it up and got out of your comfortable bed, leaving behind its warmth, for what exactly?

Another one of Sukuna's meetings, where he would sit hours on end in his large throne, as he awaits an endless line of citizens, listening to every one of their requests. The throne room at the estate was massive in size, being able to house thousands of people on end. And in the middle of it all, was Sukuna himself, nicely sat in it, legs spread slightly with one hand holding his drowsy head. You on the other hand, were seated right on his lap, one of his lower hands holding you close by the stomach, making you squirm in his lap every once and a while. Your kimono draping down your legs, covering most of your body. You looked ethereal, as you became the center of attention very quickly due to your appearance.

A civilian stood up, as he walked the crimson red carpet up to the steps of the throne. With a skittish look on the mans face, he respectfully bowed to the floor of the stairs, hovering his hands over his forehead, making sure to not make any unnecessary peeking, somewhat aware of the notorious temper Lord Sukuna gets when somebody oversteps their place when it comes to you. With a slightly shaky voice, he spoke.

"My Lord, you see, my family is in desperate times at the moment. My wife has fallen under an unknown illness, and we have no way of telling whether she will survive or not. Please, it is with my greatest esteem, if you could bless my family."

You furrow your eyebrows as you hear his story. To Sukuna, he has no reaction over such ridiculous things, but to you? You become very sensitive to such things, as you try to hide your discomfort by ajusting yourself on Sukunas lap, making him ever so slightly groan. He side eyes, you, as he continues to talk with the man kneeling before him. "I do not think you are worthy of my blessings, tiresome human. You may take your leave now." He says sternly, not giving any second thought.

Besides the throne on your left, is Uraume, keeping watch and a handy count over everybody who comes in and out. On your left, is a group of butlers, ready to take orders at any given moment. They stood tall, wanting to thoroughly impress Lord Sukuna to the fullest. And it seemed as though one particular one had wanted to impress you even more. He was tall, not as tall as Sukuna, but still tall compared to you. His eyes were dull with need, as they eyed your frame up and down, silently admiring you through his vision. God, he wished it was him instead of Sukuna. If he had a woman like you sitting all pretty on his lap like that, thats all a man like him could ask for.

Meanwhile, the man cowering on the floor was left in shambles, disappointment filling his system as he hears the words of Lord Sukuna. He stays on the ground for a while, not moving out of sheer disbelief. But his moment to himself was cut short. "Lord Sukuna said move, lackey." Uraume had said with a flick of the wrist, causing the man to quickly get up and make his leave, not wanting to disrupt the dwindling peace in the throne room.

"The nerve of some people to request such deplorable things from me, it makes me laugh, truly." He says, laughing to himself, causing you to slightly bounce in his lap, not going unnoticed by the same butler ogling at you from behind. But Sukuna is faster. He never makes any indications that he knows somebody is looking at you, but he is well aware of his staring. Sukuna has superhuman senses from all directions, making it a point to protect you from harm. He brings you in tighter to his chest, as he rubs the skin on your thigh under your kimono, causing shivers to crawl up your spine.

He brings your head closer to his with one hand as he pushes against it, his mouth coming dangerously close to your ear, as you can feel his hot breath gently fan against your neck. "I'm sure you are completely oblivious to this, but there is a man looking at my woman. You will know who I am talking about once I let you go." he says, squinting his eyes in annoyance at the man he can feel lingering his eyes on you. He is blissfully unaware that Sukuna knows what he is doing. He truly has no clue what he has gotten himself into.

Not only have none of the other butlers informed him on Sukunas constant desire for you, but the other butlers take note of what he is doing, too scared to move from their current position to stop him. They are afraid that interfering meant death, because they know what is about to happen shortly after this whole ordeal is over.

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It was nice to relax after a while, you thought.

The meeting with the civilians had lasted hours, your intuition being correct. You had come so close to just resting your eyes during the whole thing, but the tight grip Sukuna had on your waist prevented you from doing so. You were exhausted to say the least, needing a nice, well deserved bath to soothe your nerves.

You step into the large dimmed bathhouse with two handmaidens, immediately being enticed by the warmth of the atmosphere. Steam seemed to sprout from all sides, making you feel drowsy. But you felt at ease. You stepped over to a large bath, as it was slowly filled with warm water by your handmaidens with pitchers. You sat by the bath, as you watched them fill it to the brim with warm water. Your toes hit the water, making you hum with contentment.

"I'm ready." You say, signaling for the ladies to help you into the bath. You slowly strip yourself of all of your clothes, your handmaidens helping you do so. One of them holds your used kimono, as another slides off your shoes and undergarments. As you are fully undressed, both of your hands were held out in front of you, as each of your handmaidens take hold of each one, helping you keep your balance as you enter inside. You close your eyes, being content with the temperature. As you ease yourself into the water, you think back at todays events.

You had also somewhat noticed the man staring at you, only after Sukuna had mentioned it, and once the event had come to a close. But it couldn't have been that bad, right? Sukuna had a tendency to overreact to things like this when it came to you. This must have been one of those cases, surely. Or maybe, he was correct to think this way. After all, the butler had been starring for what was considered too personal. You could not see him, due to you being seated facing forward. But it was evident that he was thinking about more than what meets the eye. But as you relaxed into your string of thoughts, you were externally interrupted.

A large commotion could be heard from outside of the bathhouse, making you flinch and startling you by natural reaction. You turn your head in the direction of the noise, realizing it was the sound of one of the sliding doors slamming open. The doors in the estate were made with heavy material, so it could only be opened with such brute force from somebody as strong as Sukuna. The only person being as strong as him, being himself, of course. You knew how Sukuna got when he got mad, and you did not want him to be unattended when he got like this.

Wasting no time, you got up out of the bath, not thinking to put on your clothes, but instead grabbing the large bath towel that was next to you in the tub, instead of the robe that was freshly ironed for you. With hurried steps, you almost slipped as you exited the tub, causing your handmaidens to go into safety mode. "My lady, please! You should wear proper attire, and i'm sure another butler can handle Lord Sukuna at this moment!" She says, reaching for the robe, trying to hand it to you. But you were quick to ignore her, as you help up the towel to your body with one hand, as you stepped outside in broad daylight.

And to your horror, you had wished you stayed inside.

With your own two eyes, you saw Sukuna in all of his glory, basking in the feeling of strangling the poor butler that decided to linger his eyes on you for too long. The mans hands were trying to claw away Sukunas much larger ones, but to no avail. The sound of the air being knocked out of the mans lungs rung throughout the openness of the estate. Sukuna looked at the man, as he held him high in the air with one hand. He rested the rest of his hands on his hips, clearly unpleased by his previous actions.

"Tsk, you're pathetic. Laying your puny eyes on whats mine? Has nobody taught you any manners? Foolish." He says, smirking through his reactions. His face was turning more of a purple hue by the minute, seeming like he could pass out at any minute. He looks over to Uraume, who is smiling with him through the servants pain. "Yes, my lord, he made a very large mistake." Uraume says, agreeing. "Hm... what if I just..." He says, teasingly tightening his grip on the mans neck, as a loud 'pop' can be heard. This only amused Sukuna further, pushing himself to do more.

As you stood there watching in pure shock while resting your body on a wooden post, you really couldn't stand to see it any longer. You had to do something. You walked along the wooden floorboards of the foyer, trying not to make nay sound, but you fail miserably. A painfully loud 'creek' is heard from your direction, causing everybody in your vicinity to advert their attention towards you. You felt yourself grow how in embarrassment, realizing what you were wearing was highly inappropriate. Everybody except for the butler seemed unnafected, but on the inside, Sukuna was fuming.

So you're trying to show off now? He had seen your half naked body loads of times, but in front of another man? You were really pushing it at this point. His nose scrunches, as his eyebrows furrow in irritation. He eyes you up and down, not wasting any time before dropping the man before him, not taking into consideration his safety whatsoever. He walks towards you, each step making you more jittery than the next.

"Kuna, what are you doing to that poor man-!" You say, calling out to him as you stand on the foyer, almost standing at the same height as him, but still having to look up as he stood in front of you. "What the hell do you think you're wearing, woman?" He says, adding fuel to the fire, and completely disregarding the fact that he had just strangled a man. You look at him with wide eyes, as you scoff to yourself, trying to peek over his shoulder to get a better look of the man, but to no avail due to his tall stature. "That's not what's important right now, now tell me what happened!" You say, still searching for answers.

"Yes it is, do not make me ask twice. Go put some clothes on before anybody sees you in such a state." He says, starring daggers at your body. But you aren't focused on that, but instead on what was happening to the butler, who was clutching his bruised throat for dear life, making quick breaths in and out as he pants on the stone floor. Its uncomfortable to watch, but Uraume and Sukuna don't seem to care at all. You go to move past Sukuna, wanting to make sure the dying man on the floor was alright.

As you walk to where the man was, he instinctively tried to move away from you, not wanting to test Lord Sukuna's patience any further than he already has. But he finds himself unable to do anything other than stay still, as he watched the girl come closer to him by the second. Sukuna would let you have your moment, before he would decide how to penalize you for acting out of line.

You knelt down in front of the man, still holding up the towel wrapping your body. You looked at him with so much care, something Sukuna was selfish when it came down to it. "Hey, it's okay..." You say, reaching your free hand out to rub his back, hoping to soothe some of his pain. You knew what you were doing would be overstepping, but in the moment it really didn't matter. It seemed to work, as you noticed his breathing become ever so slightly more sturdy as you stood there. You smiled down on him by natural reaction, forgetting that a fuming monster of a man was watching this all unfold behind you.

This didn't last any longer, as Sukuna made heavy steps towards the two of you, as Uraume observed from afar. But you are too focused on helping the butler get back to his feet, as you attempt to try and hold him up with one hand. But all the sudden, your free hand that was once carrying the butler, now carried nothing, as Sukuna snatched your wrist into his tight clutch. This made you wince in shock, completely diverting your attention towards Sukuna. His eyes squinted as he looked at you, jealousy taking over his system once more.

"First you have men looking at you, then you walk outside practically naked, and now you are trying to seduce another man? I think I need to teach somebody a lesson." He says, forcibly bringing you up by the thighs, carrying you so your chests are pressed together. You wrap your arms around Sukunas neck, as you squeel from the shock of being carried so abruptly. You kick your feet as Sukunas hands lock underneath your thighs, making sure to not move the slipping towel. His hold on you bounce ever so slightly. "How was that flirting-"

"And you're also going to learn how to not talk back to those above you."

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"Please, m' sorry-"

You said, your eyes lolling back into your skull. It had been roughly an hour after Sukuna had brought you back to his quarters, and he planned on using this time wisely.

You were propped up nicely on the cozy comforters on the bed, but the comfort was far gone, with Sukuna edging you for what seemed like forever. It was getting tiring, as you chased upon a non existent race, which was your orgasm. Somehow, Sukuna always knew whenever you were about to release, having a sixth sense embedded in his body dedicated to you. His upper arms hooked under your upper thighs, his lower hands holding your hips up to maneuver you how he pleases.

This position he had kept you in made you feel practically numb, bringing you speechless. Your mouth squeezed shut from the pressure of his tongue secured onto your clit. He latched his lips, sucking on the bud, bringing you too much pleasure that you can handle at once.

"F-fuck, please let me come 'Kuna!" You say, barely able to look him in the eyes, hell, he wasn't even letting you touch him, let alone yourself. But this in his words, was to be deserved. "Tsk, acting like such a whore today, arent you?" He says, taking a pause in his antics, before giving your pussy some nice, playful slaps with his upper hand, making your hips jolt up, your eyes going wide as you yelp out. "Sensitive for your king, aren't we?"

He resumes his assault on your cunt, making sure to linger at your reactions. What he wants most, is a reaction out of you. And a reaction he is getting. You feel your legs start to tremble under his constant sucking, as you feel your body pulse every time he hits a nerve. You can't help the whimpers that fall from your mouth, from the combination of ungranted release, and the tingling due to the numbing sensation from how long he had been toying with you. But you could tell Sukuna was enjoying it. But you needed to cum, and soon. You felt as if you were going to explode if you didn't, and there was really nothing you could do to stop him.

The grip on his thighs tighten, as he soon realizes you are close to your release again, which seemed to pattern the last three? six? ten times? You couldn't keep track at this point the amount of times he had edged you, especially the way he swishes his head in the crevices of your folds, eating you out like a starved man deprived of nutrients. He blew into your wetness, causing waves of vibration to be loud enough to make a noise, almost sending you over the edge, before Sukuna halts his movements, then looking up at you. Your face was red, sweat trickling down every inch of your body. You felt hot, inside and out. Why did he have to be so difficult?

"Noooo, please just let me cum! I'll be good!" You plead, whining about your missed orgasm. You fiddled your hands above your stomach, eager to grip his silky pink hair, reaching out to it by instinct. But he notices this, and stop you by grabbing you by the wrist. "Ah ah ah, you have to wait a bit, brat. I'm not sure you quite deserve your reward." He says, crushing your high hopes in one sentence. You practically had tears in your eyes from how frustrated you were. "Beg for what you wish."

You shut your eyes, a loud exhale from your nose being heard. You looked down at him, still between your legs. He starts running his lengthy fingers along your slick, squishing your puffy folds each between his index and thumbs. You look away, not wanting to look him in the eyes at the thought of how pathetic you looked. You open your mouth, trying to find the right words for your tireless begging.

"Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to try to entice anybody, I was just worried, but that has nothing to do with this, please 'Kuna!" You say, looking down at him with glossy eyes, filled with need, You try to close your legs out of sheer shyness, but he stops you with two firm hands. He rewards you with a couple particularly harsh pussy slaps, making you jolt once more as he watches the way your hips buck upwards. He stays in his current position for a while, contemplating his decision.

He gets up from the edge of the bed, unhooking his arms as he towers over your resting form. You watch him slowly get closer to your body, crawling up the bed while looking at your face. He finds himself enticed by your neck, as he watches you extend it to the other side to hide your face. But that only shows off a noble part of your supple body that he adores. You peek up at him, as his face is mere inches away from yours. But he decides to attack your neck, going in like a moth to a flame. Sucking on the soft skin of your neck, he creates a multitude of different bruising, further marking you. Yeah, you were going to have a hard time trying to cover this up.

Coating your neck in his thick saliva, you whimper at the feeling of his thick fangs sinking ever so slightly into your neck. You try to grab onto his hair, but he stops you once more, pinning your hand to the bed with one of his upper hands, his lower hands reaching down to rub rough circles on your sensitive bud. You felt yourself bring a plethora of different emotions to yourself, no knowing what part of your body to focus on. You lifted your head back as a natural reaction, letting Sukuna fully dwarf you on the bed, as well as accidentally grant him full access to your neck. You try to close your legs, bringing your knees to your stomach, but his girthy hands keep them plied open.

He lets go of your nape with a 'pop', as he slowly pulls away, basking in the sight of his marks on your nimble skin. You are left panting, the combination of pain and pleasure seeping into you. He truly didn't mean to go too far, but he cant help it when it comes to you.

"Y'know, I was planning on having my fun with you until I tire, but since you asked oh so nicely, and the way you look right now, god, I think you're ready."

At his words, you felt a smile of relief hit your face, happy that after all this time, he is finally giving in. He felt his cock throb with precum, but one thing Sukuna is good at, is gaslighting you. He looks at you with a sinister smile, tilting his head as he moves his robe off of his body, pointing down at his pulsing length through his pants. "You see this brat? You did this. This is all your fault, and I know how you can fix it." He says, following with a loud sigh.

With one swift movement, he tugs off his undergarments. Your face contorts into that of surprise, being shocked every single time without fail whenever you see his two lengthy cocks, proudly pulsating against your thigh. You know you'll be able to take it, but with the kind of mood he is in right now, you are unsure. Sukuna is a very unpredictable man, after all. But one thing you were not expecting, was for him to be the one sitting up. His chest hit your back, as his legs resting on the floor at the edge of the bed for leverage. His lower arms held your hips up nicely, his upper arms hooking under your knees.

With another swift movement, no prep involved, he slipped inside of you with his bottom cock, his top one sliding against your pubic area. You moan out upon his arrival inside you, unprepared for the sheer size he was. His teeth connected to your shoulder as he slouched down to accommodate your height. "Wait-" You said, but were interrupted as he began to move at a moderate pace, as you sucked him in and out of your gummy walls repeatedly.

Wanton moans threatened to come out every second, as he plunged himself deeper into you, smacking his hips against yours as he did all of the work. You felt like you were floating, as you were being used like a ragdoll for Sukuna's pleasure. "Shit, just sucking me in like a vice, arent'cha? Are you gonna be a good little whore? You adore your kings cock that much?" He said, finding it amusing how your body reacts to his treatment. "Look down woman, theres something else there besides just the one inside you." He says, signaling to his free cock that was sliding against your lower stomach.

"Kuna, I can feel it in my-" "Your tummy? I know, you can handle it, it'll all be worth it. Now pay attention." He says, shutting you up once more. It was hard to focus, the bouncing of your body paired with the tight position Sukuna had kept you in being key factors. You slowly reach down with your right hand, cupping his free cock in your now wet hands, soaking them in pre cum. The squelching of the wetness of his cock thrusting in your hand, his hips and your pussy smacking against each other, and the sounds of your uncontrollable moans filled the room.

"You wish it was that pesky butlers cock in your tight, pretty hand, huh? Well i've got news for you, he is nothing compared to me. I shouldn't even be giving him a second thought, but thats what happens when you are in the picture."

You lazied your head on his bicep, trying to gain leverage on yourself. You were sooooo close. "What if I just..." He said, hitting the spot inside you that only he knows, repeatedly driving against the sweet ridge that sits nicely in your canal, thus almost sending you over the edge. "F-fuck! Right there-, holy-! I'm about to-"

But he stops everything, seemingly placing your world at an everlasting halt. That was to be your most intense orgasm of the night, but he ruined it. You were devastated, to the point where you tried moving yourself again, but the grip he had on you prevented you from doing so. You let out a loud sigh, tired of your release being denied.

"But you said you would let me, you said-!"

"Aww, whats wrong? You thought you would get it that easily? Now get on those knees of yours and put yourself to use, show me that you are truly sorry, brat."

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[otaku553]

Straw hat women redesigns :) I was trying to doodle some of the crew and came to the realization that I just Could Not with Nami so I wanted to play around with it a little bit

Some more design notes below:

Nami’s design actually went a lot smoother for me than Robin’s! I think canon post timeskip Nami is a very low bar. While you can argue that to some extent Nami being vain and seductive is part of her character, I do feel that there are many more integral parts of her character that can be highlighted in her design, namely map making and her combat. Though not one of the stronger straw hats, Nami does seem to be well practiced with her staff outside of its use for weather manipulation, and I think her being a physical combatant, even slightly, can be better reflected with more loose clothing for better mobility.

For her mapmaking, I wanted her to have constant easy access to her tools and to information about the locale, so around her waist she has one large pouch at the back for books and scrolls and maps in progress and one small pouch to the side for writing utensils and measurement tools. As backup she also has 2 pens in her bun, which also act as pins for keeping her hair up if she ever needs to move a lot.

I’m not sure how clearly it shows up in the notes, but Nami’s shoe soles are also made from whatever artificial cloud material makes up the weather island she stayed on during the timeskip, so that it both pads her steps to make them soundless and bounces for better mobility. The shoes are naturally shaped like heels but without the actual heel, since she tends to move around on tiptoes anyways- a nod to her epithet as cat burglar and her past as a thief.

I made her shoulders a bit broader because I think they probably get a lot of exercise with her staff, and changed out the bikini top for a more supportive chest wrap, with a loose tank over it for breathability. The compression socks and sleeve are more stylistic than anything, since I like layers, but they might come in handy for her if she spends extended amounts of time sitting down making maps for the crew.

Robin’s was a bit more difficult for me to figure out, and I might go back and revisit it at some point. For Nami, it was a bit easier to imagine what would pair well with her combat methods and her needs as a mapmaker, but with Robin, she’s an academic who fights almost completely hands off, without a specific weapon to her name. Because her strength lies mostly in her devil fruit, she has a bit more room for style over functionality, but I also still wanted her to have something that made sense with what she was. I don’t really think I succeeded in that regard, but it’s also hard to convey what she does visually— she’s more of like a professor than a field archaeologist I think.

I really really enjoy her cowboy hat but I didn’t think it would match with the rest of the outfit so I switched it out for a wider brimmed hat and kept the orange sunglasses on it, as a nod to the revolutionaries with the combination of headwear and eyewear. She deserves a trench coat. I don’t make the rules. And the rest of the fit mostly came down to things I think I would enjoy wearing, haha

The trench coat is partially a nod to the scholars of ohara, who seem to wear white coats like lab coats in some screenshots of robin’s backstory. I think also the reading glasses help to make her seem a bit more academic, but aren’t prominent enough to leave a strong impression. All in all I do wish robin’s design had more functionality in it but I also think that robin is a character who probably enjoys dressing up nicely like this, especially in the comfort and stability of the straw hats.

[zombvic]

hi, i love your writing can you do one where marc guiu is secretly dating lewandoski's daughter and he finds out?

MR LEWANDOWSKI (marc guiu x lewandowski!reader)

summary : in which the polish barcelona player finds out his daughter is dating his teammate

face claim : no-one exact

notes : ty for the request !! im gonna do some requests asap (theres like twenty so plsplspls be patient <3) also im gonna go on vacation soon so ill be less active.

pairings : marc guiu x fem!lewandowski!reader

BEING THE DAUGHTER of the Polish striker, Robert Lewandowski, came with its perks. Some of the benefits was the opportunity to meet your favorite players, attend exclusive events, and see important matches, such as the World Cup and UCL Finals. But managing the constant media attention and living up to the Lewandowski name were only two of the challenges that came with it. The hardest challenge of them all was keeping your relationship with the Barcelona striker, Marc Guiu, a secret.

You knew dating Marc was going to make you slightly insane. The constant hiding and sneaking around was annoying, tbh.. But if you managed to keep this a secret for over seven months, you sure weren't going to fuck it up now.

Hector quickly caught onto your little facade. All three of you were classmates, and it was clear by the looks you exchanged across the classroom, the way Marc spoke to Hector about you, and just the overall way he admired you. Hector was certain you were dating.

Him knowing would actually come in handy. It was a little easier to keep the secret when Hector was on your side. When needed, he helped cover for you by coming up with excuses in case your dad was on the edge of figuring things out.

One afternoon, while your father was out, Marc came over to your house. It was a unique chance for the two of you to have the house to yourselves, and you both wanted to make the most of it.

You were in your room, cuddling on your bed with Marc as a movie was playing on your laptop. It was relaxing, finally a moment of comfort without any worries or the anxiety of getting caught.

"This is nice," Marc murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I wish we could do this more often."

"Me too," you replied, pulling in closer to him. "But you're aware of my dad's history with my ex-boyfriends. If he found out, he would freak out."

Marc sighed as he played with the strings on your hoodie. "I know. Yet, sometimes I picture us going out on a typical date night. No concerns about your father catching us. You know maybe if he got used to our relationship, he could come along."

Playfully poking Marc with your shoulder, you mocked, "Are you using me to date my father?"

Marc gave you a gentle giggle and an amused look as his eyes met yours. "Maybe I am," he answered. "But in all honesty, I just want to go out with you—no sneaking around, just a regular 'I'll have her home by nine, sir' type date."

"Wow, real cute, Marc." Just as you were about to lean in for a kiss, you heard the front door open. Your heart stopped, as you and Marc exchanged panicked and confused looks.

"Oh fuck. He's not supposed to be back yet," you whispered urgently, scrambling off the bed. "You have to hide. Like now."

Marc quickly got up, looking around the room for a hiding spot. "WHAT?! Where should I go?!"

"Jesus Christ, Marc. I don't know just.. just get under the bed or something!" you whispered, trying to keep your voice down.

Just as your father yelled something from the living room, Marc dove under the bed. "Y/n? You home?"

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before opening your bedroom door. "Yeah, What's up?"

He walked down the hallway, a frown on his face. "I thought I left my other keys here. Have you seen them?"

You shook your head, trying to look casual. "Nah, I haven't seen them. Maybe you left them in the locker room after training?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe. I'll call someone to check if someone found them. Are you okay? You seem... off."

"I'm good, Dad," you said quickly, hoping he couldn't hear the nervousness in your voice. "Just tired, I guess.."

He looked at you for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright. Well, I'm going to head back out then. Let me know if you find the keys."

As he turned to leave, you heard a muffled cough from under the bed. Your eyes widened in horror as your father stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing.

"What was that?" he asked, turning back to you.

"What do you mean" you said quickly, desperately trying to think of an excuse. "I didn't hear anything. Is your hearing alright?"

"Hey, I'm still only 35 years young. Anyways, I'll just head out, I guess. See you later, honey." He said as he walked out the front door.

As you walked down the hallway to reach your room, you exclaimed, "Marc, what the fuck was that? The one time you NEED to be quiet, you actually cough. How on earth is that possible?"

"Hey, I didn't put all that dust under your bed," he playfully said while hugging you. "Calm down, babe. He didn't even see me."

"Yeah, but he heard your silly ass. Anyways you should just go. He might come back soon."

At least three hours had passed before your dad returned, which was kind of annoying because you had the chance to finish the movie and still had two hours left to hang out without interruptions.

"Hey honey, I'm back home," your dad said as he walked into the house. You were sitting on the couch, watching Suits (a goated show btw).

Your dad's voice startled you, making you jump slightly. You quickly paused the show and turned to face him. "Hey Dad," you replied.

He looked around the living room with a curious expression. His eyes fell upon the hoodie that Marc gave to you. The hoodie that exclusively Barcelona players got. His brow furrowed slightly as he picked it up, examining it with a puzzled look.

"Whose hoodie is this?" he asked.

You swallowed nervously, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. "Oh, uh, that's Marc's," you said, mentally cursing yourself for not changing beforehand. "He gave it to me last week."

Robert's gaze shifted from the hoodie to you, his expression unreadable. "Marc's?"

"Yeah," you nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. "We… we've been hanging out a lot. Last week i was cold so he gave it to me."

He studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge your sincerity. "Hanging out," he echoed, more a statement than a question.

You nodded again, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "Okay, yeah. So, Dad, we've been dating for.. a while now."

His eyes widened in surprise, shocked expression on his face. But he didn't look angry. Instead, he let out a slow breath and nodded.

As he stared at you for what felt like an eternity, processing the information, he finally spoke out, his voice calm yet tinged with disbelief, "You and Marc... have been dating?"

"I… I didn't know how you'd react," you admitted, feeling a pinch of guilt for keeping it from him. "And I didn't want you to worry."

Robert leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "I see," he said. "And how long has this 'while' been?"

Marc cleared his throat, speaking up, "About seven months, Mr. Lewandowski."

Your dad looked at Marc with a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Marc? What are you doing here?" he asked, seeing him in the living room unexpectedly.

"I'm sorry, sir. Y/n messaged me to come over, so I did," Marc spoke out, trying to explain his sudden arrival.

"Sorry for not telling you sooner, Mr. Lewandowski," he said earnestly. "We didn't mean to keep it from you."

Robert eased his expression and laughed. "I understand," he softly said in response. "While I can't say I'm not surprised, I appreciate your honesty. Also, Marc, we've known each other for some time now. Just call me as usual." Your father joked with his teammate, your boyfriend.

You felt a wave of relief when you realized he wasn't upset. To be honest, he looked more interested than angry. "So, what do you think, Dad?" You questioned him.

Robert leaned forward, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, if Marc here has managed to win your heart for seven months without my knowledge, he must be doing something right," he said, his tone teasing yet approving.

Marc and you exchanged a relieved smile as you felt the tension ease. Despite his reputation for being serious, Your dad has surprised you today by showing you compassion and comprehension.

You said, "Thank you, Dad," appreciating his understanding.

He chuckled loudly and replied. "Please just promise me that you will keep me updated. I'm happy for you both."

It was impossible not to feel an overwhelming feeling of relief. The secret was finally out.

[kitkat13001]

☆⋆｡𖦹° 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎!𝙻 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

>> l lawliet x reader

i feel like he’d thrive with a pet. he’s never had any exposure to animals so it’s definitely a new experience for him. i think the unpredictability of a cat would suit him. its irregular behavior keeps him on his toes, given his tendency to analyze patterns. he’d be very affectionate with a cuddly cat 

i think he would also like the loyalty of a dog. he needs stability in his life 🫶 and a cute little puppy that’ll grow w him is just perfect for him. plus, im sure it’d force him to exercise a little more (couldn’t hurt him tbh) w all the running after it he’d be doing

he watches true crime for background noise—if he actually sits down to watch it, he’ll figure it out in the first five minutes (if he didn’t already know the case outcome himself). he needs to multitask in order to genuinely enjoy it, so he usually puts it on while he cooks or cleans so he’s not dedicating his full focus to it and proceed to act like a mom watching a telenovela 

*gasp* “they found the body in the lake!”

“hmm…that was anticlimactic.”

“‘breaking news’? i had already figured that out three episodes ago.”

“oh, i worked this case!”

his cooking is shit at the beginning. you have to be patient with him. he goes in thinking bc he’s so smart it’ll come out good no matter what. (this is the case with a lot of activities he’s now discovering due to the new lifestyle). he is wrong. 

HOWEVER…he does improve with time. he’ll follow a recipe to perfection and study it until he gets it right. the only downside is his food tends to be on the more plain/bland side, so if you like strong flavors i’d keep seasonings handy. he grew up in england, what do you expect? he does excel at making sweets and baked goods though, those tend to come out more flavorful.

for all his previously normal ‘secrecy’ he’s actually a chronic oversharer. because you’re bonded for life now, he feels the need to tell you everything, all of the time. his brain runs a mile a minute and he voices pretty much every thought he has. 

“does the fan seem louder to you?”

”no, ryuzaki. go to bed.”

“but we’re not doing anything tomorrow, so we can sleep in. there’s no need to go to bed right this instant.”

“…”

“that won’t be the case next week, though, we’ve got that birthday dinner to attend.”

“…”

“dinner sounds nice enough, but i loathe the thought of shopping for a present. maybe—“

“ryuzaki. go. to. sleep.”

“hmph.”

similarly, he has a tendency to notice your patterns (he calls it a “detective’s habit”). he’s freakishly accurate with it too. sometimes it’s useful, like when he stops at the store to pick up your favorite snacks and hygiene products when he knows your time of the month is approaching. however, sometimes it’s…just weird

“darling, do you need to use the restroom?”

“um…no?”

“really? interesting. your diet hasn’t changed the last couple days, and you usually use the restroom at approximately this time for about 10 to 12 minutes every day.”

“…what the fuck?”

even though you’ve both changed your names in order to secure your identities and safety, he still calls you by your real name when it’s just the two of you. in public he prefers to call you pet names instead of your newfound aliases

he has no issues switching back n forth and he’d never slip up for fear of exposing you both, but he just tries to avoid calling you by your cover name. he feels a little guilty because if he was a ‘normal person’ you wouldn’t have had to undergo all these procedures just to be with him. he’s used to using different names for himself, but it makes him a little sour that you now have to do that too :(

speaking of sour, he’s a veeeryy jealous man. he’s not obnoxious or even outright about it, but he doesn’t like when other people get too close to you (physically and emotionally). part of it is him being paranoid that they “know something” about you, but part of it is just bc he’s just a clingy lil guy 🥺 and he just wants to be your only special guy

he’s like a territorial cat

he gets nightmares about the kira case and all of his other past cases. he doesn’t make a scene when he wakes up from them, but if you notice he’s awake don’t ask him about them. it’s unlikely he’ll answer you, and he’ll feel bad thinking he woke you up. just pretend to still be asleep and subtly cuddle closer

it coaxes him right back to sleep knowing you’re safe and sound beside him. if you’re brave you can ask in the morning, but it’s likely he’ll have forgotten the dream by then

pleeeeassee take up yoga with him. since he doesn’t need to be crouched in his heightened-deductive-skill position 24/7 anymore, it’s a worthwhile investment to fix his posture and his numerous back problems. he might enjoy the calmness and flexibility yoga provides

he might be open to the idea of children. according to canon, he only interacted with the wammy kids once very briefly, but i like to think he was fairly involved with the orphanages considering they were raising his successor. it only makes sense they’d need to get to know him at least a little—and it would explain why near’s mannerisms are so similar to his. 

i think contrary to popular opinion he would be good with kids—in his own special way. he’s not exceptionally cuddly, but he won’t reject affection either. and his intuition and reflexes are so keen that it’s not like the kid would ever be in danger. 

he’s such a homebody. i mean, we already knew that—but him being able to go out in public now has not changed his desire to want to be alone (w/ you)

he has mixed feelings about crowded places. on the one hand, the anonymity of it is kind of nice and it sets his mind at ease that no one will be able to recognize you two in such a swarm. but on the other, someone is touching him and all the noise n stuff sorta overstimulates his nervous system

the next best alternative? take him to places that are still public and out-and-about but a little more secluded. a corner booth in the back of a little restaurant, a sprawling botanical garden, an independent cafe that’s not overcrowded, etc 

HE CANT DRIVE LMAOOO. a helicopter is one thing but cars??? on the road??? with other cars?????!!! he cannot. he’s a MENACE. hopefully you can drive, but if not then it comes to public transportation 🤷‍♀️ 

[sirfrogsworth]

Dinner with Aunt Denise & Uncle Jeff A Tale of Science Fair Photography

Ever since my parents died my aunt and uncle have done their best to fill some of the hole left in my heart. It almost feels like they adopted me in a way. They check on me. They help me clean. They helped me sort through all of my parents' belongings. And from time to time they invite me over for dinner when I'm feeling up to it.

Last week I got a new invitation. I had been feeling pretty lonely as of late so I graciously accepted. Before I left I saw my camera sitting on the table and realized I had this fancy new lens which is especially suited for taking pictures of people.

I thought to myself...

"This lens has only taken pictures of bridges at sunset."

Which is cool and everything, but I don't really want my only photos to be of bridges at sunset. I like taking pictures of other things.

I didn't have any lighting equipment handy—just a single external flash. And without a solid plan for how I was going to use it, I quickly packed said flash and headed westward. As I saw the sun lowering in the sky above the highway my big photography brain had an idea...

"I should take pictures of *people* at sunset."

I needed a reflector of some kind to bounce my flash against. I thought poster board would probably suffice so I stopped at Walmart and headed to the arts and crafts area. I found these tri-fold poster board thingies that grade school kids use to display their science fair experiments.

I got 2 for $7!

What a deal!

After I arrived I asked if my aunt & uncle minded having their photo taken. My aunt said she was fine with it but warned me that no one had ever been able to take a decent photo of her.

I'm typically not one to be braggadocious, but I replied...

"Well, that's because you've never had your photo taken by ME."

I'm not sure I should have been so cocky considering my lighting equipment is typically used to display the life cycle of earthworms, baking soda volcanos, and... potato batteries—which was the delightful and totally real project I just found on Google.

Science Fair Entry from Billy, Age 10

After a delicious feast of bratwurst, salad, and non-electrified potatoes, I convinced my aunt and uncle to sit for a sunset photoshoot. They even helped me set up my science fair project.

Science Fair Entry from Froggie, Age 42

I decided to do a quick test indoors to make sure my plan would work. Jeff volunteered for my first experiment.

Without my contraption...

With my contraption...

I think my experiment was quite promising. But would my idea hold up outside during the sunset with constantly dimming conditions?

We moved everything to the backyard. The tri-fold poster board was a bit ornery regarding its uprightness and needed to be tamed. My Uncle Jeff used a large rock, some pillows, and a step ladder to keep the makeshift reflectors in place.

I started taking test photos without the flash to figure out the background exposure.

Those pesky power lines were going to need to be zapped later in Photoshop, but I was really digging the scenery.

I dialed everything in, started taking photos, and even on the little rear camera screen I felt like they were turning out well. With the sun setting the sky looked like it was on fire. But then the batteries died in my flash and I was starting to lose that fiery sky as darkness began to creep into view.

Unfortunately, all of the potatoes were in our bellies so my aunt scrambled to find regular batteries in the house.

This photoshoot had become a complete team effort with everyone doing their part to make it a success.

Surprisingly it was my Uncle Jeff was giving me some bona fide model poses. He just naturally has some sort of... resting model face. Very masculine and authentic. And my Aunt Denise is just pure sunshine manifested as a person. So I had no problems getting nice expressions from her.

So... would you like to see the pictures?

Will I get a blue ribbon on my science fair project?

Am I building up the suspense too much?

Okay, here we go...

I suppose the only validation I really need is from the person who has never had a decent photo taken of them.

Let's see the verdict.

All of those hours and hours of photography training helped me learn the problem solving skills I needed to pull off a photoshoot with seven dollars in supplies.

Take a small light source, bounce it off something larger, and you get a big light source.

And big light sources make people look snazzy in photographs.

Easy!

Are you kidding me?

I lost to the potato kid?

What kind of rigged nonsense...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Monster, Inc. 5

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is an asshole, you know this. But what happens when he turns his wrath upon you? (plus!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, this reader is known as Missie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You flip the switch and step back with a smile as you admire your work. Lloyd’s hair is nearly back to its normal hue. Your no professional, but at first glance, most people won’t notice the difference. 

“How lucky that you had a blow dryer, sir,” you chime as you follow the cord to the outlet and bend to unplug it. 

“Mm, always keep a travel bag handy,” he grumbles. “Hey, hips, grab me a mirror, will ya?” 

You stand straight and spin around, suddenly conscious of your bottom. You wrap up the cord and put the dryer back in his black bag. You sift around and pull out the small circle mirror inside. You hand it over to him as he watches you. 

“Needs some gel,” his eyes flick down to his reflection as he holds up the mirror and flips his fingers in his hair. “Comb.” 

You take his terse demands in stride. You’re just happy you didn’t ruin his hair. He probably is too, but he’d never admit that. 

You retrieve his comb and gel and set it on his desk. He shoves the mirror toward you and you wince. You take it and he grabs your wrist, guiding you to angle it towards him.

You stand there like an object as he opens the tin. He spreads the gel over his hair and uses the comb to tidy it. You look around. 

“Stay still,” he demands. 

“Sorry, sir,” you face him. “Mr. Hansen, it looks really good, I think.” 

“Mmm, it’s even,” he shrugs and tosses the comb down. He snaps his fingers and you trade the comb for the tissue box. He takes one to wipe his fingers. “I always look good, sweet cheeks.” 

He sits back and looks at you, arms crossed. You nod and tidy up the mess he left. 

“Of course, Mr. Hansen,” you agree as you pack everything away in his bag. 

“So you agree?” 

“Agree, sir?” You turn to him again. 

“That I look good.” 

You lower your brows and think. You don’t want to be unprofessional but you also can’t hurt his feelings. More like it would dent his ego. 

“Your hair looks really nice--” 

“Not the question, hips,” he huffs. 

You shift and sway nervously, “well, sure, sir. I think you clean up nice. You always look spiffy.” 

“Spiffy?” He frowns, “Get out.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

You go to leave and he tuts, “ah. I’m gonna need a fresh breakfast. This is cold.” 

As you spin back again, the wrap lands on the floor in front of you. You step back as it explodes and the fluffy eggs litter the floor and the toes of your low heels. You bend to clean it up, swallowing your agitation. Sometimes, he really does get to you. 

“Good girl, hips, but try not to wag your ass like that outside these walls. Someone might get the wrong idea,” he scoffs. 

You stand up, “sir, would you like a fresh coffee too?” 

He leans his chin in his hand, his scowl dull with disappointment, “fine. Go.” 

You’re content to get some space from your boss. After so long tending to him, you can’t help but feel smothered by his persistent nagging. You can still smell the remover and dye as the scent clings to you. There’s another scent mingled in, maybe his cologne. 

You get a new wrap and coffee and return to the office. As you dip into Hansen’s office, he’s on a call. You leave his breakfast with him and duck out again. You sit behind your desk with a breath of relief. Finally, some space. Back to work. 

You skip lunch to make up for the time spent fixing Hansen’s hair. He emerges only to drop his garbage on your desk for you to clean up and with a few demands here and there. Nothing out of the usual. Everything’s back to how it should be; including his hair. 

You want to giggle as you think of it. You really should’ve tried to get a pic. No, that would be too much. 

Your phone vibrates and you rub your eye as you peel your gaze from your monitor. You open up the message from Peter. It’s a reminder of your plans. Seven o’clock! You add it to your calendar just to be sure. 

“Listen up, cheeks,” Hansen struts out as he checks his watch, “I need you to make me a reservation tonight. Six-thirty. Maestro’s. I got a buddy coming into town.” 

“Sure thing, sir,” you answer. “I’ll call the restaurant. Table for two.” 

“Get a booth, hips. You can come.” 

“Uh, Mr. Hansen?” You hesitate. 

“Uh, Missie,” he mocks, “just do what I tell you.” 

“I understand, sir, I can get the table but I have plans--” 

“You have plans?” He stomps his foot and tilts his head. “Since when do you have fun, Missie? Don’t tell me some freak wants to eat cake of your ass.” 

“Sir!” You exclaim. 

He snickers, “oh, come on, tell your little girlfriends to do something else. You’re coming.” 

“But sir, I finish at six--” 

“You finish when I say you do,” he snarls and jabs his fingertip at you. “Don’t test me. I’ve had a fucked up morning and I don’t need you ruining the rest of my day.” 

You stare at him and flick your lashes. You’re disappointed. You really did want to see Peter. He was always so much fun. 

“Alright, I’ll tell my friend not to bother--” you lift up your phone but before you can do anything, Mr. Hansen snatches it from you. 

“Peter? What kinda cuck name is that?” He snips. 

You stand up and reach for your cell. He keeps it out of your grasp as he keys with one thumb, looking up at the screen. 

“Sorry, Petey boy,” he types slowly, “found a bigger dick to ride.” 

He drops his arm and tosses the phone at you. You catch it against your chest and gape at him. He laughs again, “aw, Missie, don’t give me that look. You might actually make me feel bad.” He pinches your cheek and clicks his tongue, “get me a fucking reservation.” 

[yukipri]

Some thoughts on Cara

So some of you may have heard about Cara, the new platform that a lot of artists are trying out. It's been around for a while, but there's been a recent huge surge of new users, myself among them. Thought I'd type up a lil thing on my initial thoughts.

First, what is Cara?

From their About Cara page:

Cara is a social media and portfolio platform for artists. With the widespread use of generative AI, we decided to build a place that filters out generative AI images so that people who want to find authentic creatives and artwork can do so easily. Many platforms currently accept AI art when it’s not ethical, while others have promised “no AI forever” policies without consideration for the scenario where adoption of such technologies may happen at the workplace in the coming years. The future of creative industries requires nuanced understanding and support to help artists and companies connect and work together. We want to bridge the gap and build a platform that we would enjoy using as creatives ourselves. Our stance on AI: ・We do not agree with generative AI tools in their current unethical form, and we won’t host AI-generated portfolios unless the rampant ethical and data privacy issues around datasets are resolved via regulation. ・In the event that legislation is passed to clearly protect artists, we believe that AI-generated content should always be clearly labeled, because the public should always be able to search for human-made art and media easily.

Should note that Cara is independently funded, and is made by a core group of artists and engineers and is even collaborating with the Glaze project. It's very much a platform by artists, for artists!

Should also mention that in being a platform for artists, it's more a gallery first, with social media functionalities on the side. The info below will hopefully explain how that works.

Next, my actual initial thoughts using it, and things that set it apart from other platforms I've used:

1) When you post, you can choose to check the portfolio option, or to NOT check it. This is fantastic because it means I can have just my art organized in my gallery, but I can still post random stuff like photos of my cats and it won't clutter things. You can also just ramble/text post and it won't affect the gallery view!

2) You can adjust your crop preview for your images. Such a simple thing, yet so darn nice.

3) When you check that "Add to portfolio," you get a bunch of additional optional fields: Title, Field/Medium, Project Type, Category Tags, and Software Used. It's nice that you can put all this info into organized fields that don't take up text space.

4) Speaking of text, 5000 character limit is niiiiice. If you want to talk, you can.

5) Two separate feeds, a "For You" algorithmic one, and "Following." The "Following" actually appears to be full chronological timeline of just folks you follow (like Tumblr). Amazing.

6) Now usually, "For You" being set to home/default kinda pisses me off because generally I like curating my own experience, but not here, for this handy reason: if you tap the gear symbol, you can ADJUST your algorithm feed!

So you can choose what you see still!!! AMAZING. And, again, you still have your Following timeline too.

7) To repeat the stuff at the top of this post, its creation and intent as a place by artists, for artists. Hopefully you can also see from the points above that it's been designed with artists in mind.

8) No GenAI images!!!! There's a pop up that says it's not allowed, and apparently there's some sort of detector thing too. Not sure how reliable the latter is, but so far, it's just been a breath of fresh air, being able to scroll and see human art art and art!

To be clear, Cara's not perfect and is currently pretty laggy, and you can get errors while posting (so far, I've had more success on desktop than the mobile app), but that's understandable, given the small team. They'll need time to scale. For me though, it's a fair tradeoff for a platform that actually cares about artists.

Currently it also doesn't allow NSFW, not sure if that'll change given app store rules.

As mentioned above, they're independently funded, which means the team is currently paying for Cara itself. They have a kofi set up for folks who want to chip in, but it's optional. Here's the link to the tweet from one of the founders:

And a reminder that no matter that the platform itself isn't selling our data to GenAI, it can still be scraped by third parties. Protect your work with Glaze and Nightshade!

Anyway, I'm still figuring stuff out and have only been on Cara a few days, but I feel hopeful, and I think they're off to a good start.

I hope this post has been informative!

Lastly, here's my own Cara if you want to come say hi! Not sure at all if I'll be active on there, but if you're an artist like me who is keeping an eye out for hopefully nice communities, check it out!

[ddejavvu]

dbf!spencer x hotchs daughter!reader 👀

the team (+ families) over at rossis for a cookout and pool day and reader just got a brand new bathing suit, and spencer cant take his eyes off of her. 🥵

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+ (and so are its characters; reader is an adult), minors dni.

You're showing off your new bathing suit to Emily, which gives Spencer a good reason to ogle you. After all, he's just listening to what you're telling her.

"The size I tried on at first was too big," You lament, hands motioning to your chest, "But I had Penny bring me a size down, and this one fits much better."

It fits perfectly. It hugs your chest tightly, though it doesn't look painful, just snug. The black fabric slopes down your stomach and your hands smooth it down your waist, "And there's this cutout in the back, see-?"

You turn, showing off the broad expanse of your bare back. It's skin Spencer rarely sees exposed, and his teeth work at his tongue like he's trying to bite right through it.

"Isn't it so cute?" Penelope appears beside Spencer, knocking him out of his trance. He readjusts his grip on his drink to take a sip, mumbling an, 'Mhm,' to Penelope.

"I helped her pick it out," She brags, and Spencer sends her a tense smile.

"You did a good job," He promises her, "It's a nice color on her."

"Isn't it! She was going for red at first," Penelope divulges, and oh, Spencer's pants feel tighter all of a sudden, "But the only one they had was three sizes too small, she would have been spilling out of it."

The soda can Spencer's been nursing crunches as his fist clenches.

"Woah, hulk," Penelope eyes Spencer apprehensively, "Everything okay?"

"I'm fine. I need the bathroom," Spencer excuses himself, and it's not a lie. He just so happens to choose your bathroom, hoping someone's occupying the downstairs one so that his alibi holds up.

You hadn't been expecting anyone to use your bathroom, so it's sloppy, but Spencer doesn't mind. It's quite the opposite, really, when he finds your lacy red thong discarded on the floor. Hopefully you won't miss your panties now that they're tucked snugly into his pocket. He's sure you won't even notice, after all, maybe you hadn't even realized you'd dropped them in the first place.

Three hours later, when the guests are gone, and you traipse upstairs to take your nightly shower, a sick smile grows over your face as you find your bathroom floor devoid of red lace. Spencer had taken the bait, had snatched up the gift you'd left laying out so nicely for him, and the showerhead is going to come in very handy while you fantasize about how he's using your present.

[marticoresims]

THE SIMS 2 ULTIMATE CALCULATION You need to copy it and save on your account to be able to use it. I can't risk letting people edit the calculator so they can just wipe out the whole thing.

I made a calculator for The Sims 2 that makes it easier for me to choose certain things for Sims such as aspiration, career, hobby and to get a clear idea of who this Sim is.

How does it work? Here's an explanation for all modules!

Aspiration I rarely use this part of the calculator because usually I look at a Sim's personality and already know. This module is not perfect, but definitely comes in handy when I'm not sure. So basically you put in the Sim's personality points into the teal-colored category, and the burgundy-colored one counts itself (giving "negative" points for a trait, e.g. 6 in Neat is 4 in Sloppy). Each aspiration takes different traits into its formula, giving a certain number of points. The more points, the "better" the aspiration fits the personality. Of course this is very simplified, so only use it when indecisive (which I always am). Here is a general idea on which traits suit which personality in my opinion. Except now I think the difference between fortune and knowledge is how nice the Sim is.

Interests finally matter! The calculator has two systems based on interests that I think make a lot of sense and actually make the interests mean something other than if Sims are going to argue while talking. This calculator makes NO SENSE with VANILLA interests system!!! Interests are based on age which means kids and adults are interested in specific things "according" to their age, e.g. kids like animals and adults like culture. In the vanilla system, this calculator will end up giving you the same results over and over! So I recommend getting this mod that makes interests random and not change in the child→teen age transition.

So go ahead, type in your Sim's interests! Expand the interests panel to have them in the same order as in the calculator (counting by columns left-right top-bottom, so starting with Politics and ending with Sci-Fi).

Career Without this calculator, I would give my Sims the same jobs over and over because I wouldn't even remember all the 25 careers + a few custom ones I have. Each career has a formula and takes different interests into account, you can find them listed next to the career name. It also counts in aspiration, so don't forget to give a few points there! I add in 5 points for aspiration.

One True Hobby I often just leave whatever OTH the game calculated for the Sim based on personality mainly. But sometimes I like it when the hobby and the job align. I also don't like that certain OTHs seem to repeat a lot, so I recalculate it if need be.

The calculator highlights 22+ points in careers and 12+ points in OTH. You can also mark all the career numbers and look in the bottom-right corner for the "max" value to navigate it more easily.

EXAMPLE! This is John Mole's calculation. His aspiration is popularity, so I gave him 5 points for it and put in his interests numbers. The perfect career for him is Slacker and his OTH could be Tinkering because he's very interested in toys. But he could just as well work as a veterinarian and take up fitness or sports as his hobby, for more variety. This calculator will give you a few options to choose from instead of the entirety of game features. And that's what I love about it!

[cakepoppresent]

No. Just No.

Yay for sibling reunions!

Transcript Under The Cut~

[Malcolm]: This place looks like shit

[Luna]: At least he got an apartment in a brownstone. It must be nicer inside.

[Malcolm]: Yeah fucking right. Look at all the needles on the damn ground.

[Luna]: Whatever! Ignore those and DON’T bring it up once we get inside.

[Luna]: He absolutely did not kidnap you

[Malcolm]: Wait...before we go in. That man you're seeing basically kidnapped me

[Malcolm]: Yes he did and he forced me to come to Mt. Korembi with you for the holidays

[Luna]: What did you say?

[Malcolm]: I told him to go straight to hell

[Luna]: Does it look like I’m laughing?

[Malcolm]: *tsk* I agreed to go. He was pretty adamant that he would get me to go no matter what I said

[Luna]: You play too god damn much

[Malcolm]: I did tell him he fucking sucks. That’s never changing

[Luna]: I don’t have time for your nonsense right now. You better be on your best behaviour or I swear to fucking God

[Malcolm]: I’m not a child! I can control myself!

[Luna]: Yea, sure you can. Just stand there and keep quiet!

[Luna]: I'm so sorry to barge in like this but we're looking for Andre. We're his younger siblings Luna and Malcolm...Is he home?

[Seb]: Oh! Um...he just stepped out real quick

[Luna]: Okay...Do you mind letting us wait here for him?

[Seb]: I’m not sure. You came up unannounced...

[Malcolm]: So you want us to wait outside in the cold? Are you insane or stupid?

[Luna]: My brother is crude, but I see a table right behind you. Malcolm and I will take a seat, and you can join us.

[Luna]: So you are?

[Seb]: Roommates! We’re just roommates!

[Malcolm]....

[Luna]: Hahaha I meant your name

[Seb]: Of course! hahaha I’m Sebastion. I’ve been Andre’s roomate that last few years

[Luna]: That’s nice. You must have helped him out a lot

[Seb]: Its more like he helped me out a lot. He’s actually super handy around the apartment and he pays most of the rent!

[Luna]: Oh? Is that so?

[Andre]: What are you guys doing here? This place isn’t safe

[Luna]: Well we got tired waiting for you to reach out. I think its time for everyone to get answers

[Andre]: I still wished that you guys would have called me first

[Luna]: Get over yourself and take a seat at the table so we can talk

[Malcolm]: I’ve been in the cramp ass apartment too long. I’m ready to leave and I need you to hurry this up. Now.

[Andre]: /Deep sigh/ Alright.

[the-s1lly-corner]

How would follower!bishops react to a disciple!reader who's very giving and accommodating to them when they first join the cult? As in giving them care packages and showing them around, doing it out of their own free will. The reader knows who each of them are too maybe?

Follower!bishops x kind!disciple!reader

Anon you don't know what you've done because this is exactly how my main cotl OC is I'm about to get silly

Also I could NOT find a decent gif ignore Danny

Notes: reader is GN, you are a disciple of the lamb, you're one of the few people in the cult who knows who the bishops are (something something its been a very long time since theyve all been taken down, passage of time)-- implied that reader is either immortal via a gold skull necklace or other means OR they just keep up with history, follower bishops, more platonic than romantic, crushing if you squint

CWs: none

LESHY

if youre a bit of a pushover he might put some of his chores onto you- will grumble and mutter to himself if you put your foot down though... average youngest sibling activity who had a taste of godhood blah blah hes spoiled

genuinely doesnt know if he feels offended that youre putting so much time aside for him or loving that youre doing your best to make things as comfortable for him as possible- are you doing this for pity or for something else?

will get jealous if you apply the same energy to his siblings, youre his buddy!!

probably thinks hes swaying your faith before you just outright say youre doing all of this out of the kindness of your heart- still teases the lamb about it to stir some drama

HEKET

feels she doesnt need a caretaker or a friend, shes not going to let anyone think that shes gone soft after falling from grace- she takes the longest to warm up to your kindness

either lashes out at you or the lamb due to feeling that youve been assigned as a babysitter to make sure she doesnt do anything- sure, the lamb has no reason to trust her or her siblings to behave themselves in the cult BUT that doesnt make it any less humiliating!

she does get used to your company with time- youre stubborn... talking together is easy because youve taken the time to learn sign language and youre more than happy to teach her

you leave her baskets with various teas and medicines to help soothe her throat on days where it hurts more- due to strain or weather or its simply one of her worst days... shes thankful for your effort but she shows it through guiding you on what works for her and what she likes

KALLAMAR

torn between him expecting you to tend to his every need and him being too nervous to push things and risk punishment from you or the lamb- you are a disciple after all, you can do things other followers arent permitted to do - and... oh youre... spending time with him because you genuinely want to?

he doesnt know what to make of it, too scared to really try anything to risk you leaving him alone

i personally headcanon that hes hard of hearing, probably deaf in one of his ears... he can still hear just barely- he takes you up on any offers to teach him sign to help minimize problems down the line

loooooooves the little care packages you leave for him- treats, goodies, and generally stuff he can use to upkeep himself- its nice still receiving "offerings" after everything!

SHAMURA

you... actually come in handy in helping keep them on track as well as reminding them of things they need to do or things that have been said- things have gotten so much harder since theyve lost their crown so your help is appreciated

one of the things you leave for them is ink and journals so they can keep track of things on their own when youre not around as well as generally granting them a space to put down their own thoughts in a private setting

your kindness makes you easy to talk to, you both do a lot of that... well... actually its mostly you doing most of the talking. shamura does a lot of listening but they prompt you to keep going or tries to find a subject to fill the silence

even if you were sent by the lamb to keep an eye on them theyd understand- if they were in the lambs place and decided to spare them theyd have someone to keep an eye on them... not really that offended about it plus they get a companion!

[see-arcane]

Blood of My Blood: Longest Night

I imagine it's tricky for a family that's 3/4 vampires to celebrate the regular batch of holidays. But a kid deserves to be festive now and then and there is a handy time of year for nocturnal sorts to celebrate.

December 21st, the winter solstice, the Longest Night.

You can read under the cut or on Ao3 here.

There were three holidays in the castle.

One was St. George’s Day Eve, which neatly held hands with the boy’s birthnight. Father was always called away for the hunting of blue flames, but after the celebration of the night with Papa and Mum, Father would be waiting for him by his coffin at sunrise. He would have a coin harvested early from the earth and some gift of his own to give. It was good.

Another was New Year’s Eve. To the boy’s knowledge, this was considered the birthnight of Time itself. He would get to unwrap a fresh calendar to hang and do something called a ‘toast,’ though there was no hot crisp bread involved. Papa would down a glass of something that burned the boy’s nose to smell, then Father, Mum and the boy would take a single quick sip and welcome the New Year. Papa’s blood always tasted different after those drinks, a little singed, but somehow nice and swimmy on the tongue. It was good.  

But the best was Longest Night.

Longest Night was preceded by the crucial private magic of Shortest Day. No one was allowed to be up and awake during the Shortest Day, or else the joys of Longest Night would not happen. The Visitors that came by daylight were swift and skittish and would not stop to deliver their bounty if anyone was up to spy on their work. They might skip by regardless if they were not left the token of food before all were in bed by sunrise.

“What do they eat?”

“Whatever a home has to spare for a plate,” Papa told him. “Sweet things, usually.”

“Like the pep mints?”

“Peppermint, yes. Biscuits, cake, chocolate.”

This had worried the boy at first. Papa tasted sweeter in December from all the Longest Night things he and Mum put together in the kitchen. Once, Papa had been doing something with pieces of fruit, cloves, and spices, the result pouring perfume out of the bowl and through the air. And, perhaps not quite by accident, Papa allowed one of the hard little cloves to cut his thumb.

“Oh dear. Could you help me, Sweetheart?” Under his breath, smiling, “Quick!”

The boy rushed to put his mouth to the cut. Papa’s blood hit his tongue in a new way. He thought of the red-white candy that had shown up after Papa’s last errand—

“You had pep mint!”

“Peppermint. Yes, I did. Is it any good?”

“Have to check.” Another sip. Another. “Checked. Very good.”

“Good.”

Good, but sweet. What if..?

The Visitors will not come for Papa, Dearest.

Mum’s hand on his shoulder, her smile on her face and in her son’s mind.

He is for us alone. Besides, he would not fit on a plate. On that note…

The boy watched his mother’s gaze float to Papa, something of either mercy or conspiracy in her look.

…it need not be desserts alone. It is cold out for those who are not like us, and the Visitors would surely appreciate something with more heat in it. Supposing Papa is willing to part with some of his paprika.

“Absolutely.”

Something to keep in mind for the Eve before Shortest Day. But for now, we need to hunt for the tree.

The tree was very important for the Visitors. They were wild folk who were used to taking and receiving bounty in wilderness. Unless the boy wanted the gifts from them all left piled against some random trunk in the forest, the castle needed a tree of its own. One they could shelter and dress so that there was no mistaking it as the tree to stop for. The boy was scrupulous in seeking this particular quarry. It could not be too tall or too short, too spindly or too thick. There must be no animals living in it, not even the bats; though he knew already from Father that they had all taken off to their caves for the winter. It must be just right.

Eventually they came upon it, powdered in snow and sweet-stinging with its aroma.

This one?

“This one!”

Mum cleaved the trunk from its roots, hoisting it as airily as she might have carried the boy. They returned to the castle and set it within the stand that Papa had built for it. Then came the decoration. Threads of nutshells and dry berries hardened to beads were wound around the boughs, ready to turn to kindling once it came time to break the tree up into firewood. Give or take a few wooden ornaments the boy painted himself. He was still hanging them when Father appeared. Standing and staring and silent as the boy worked.

Father had allowed Longest Night to happen because of Papa. The boy knew so. Young as he was, there were some realities that one accepted without needing the Lesson laid out in words.

It was especially easy to accept as the boy had spoiled his own attempt at wheedling Father about holidays not so long ago. He had found one in a book on a high shelf in the library. The boy had clambered up to it for the sake of its pretty leather spine and flipped through it in awe of its illustrations. One in particular had arrested him. Even what little bits of the poem-story that went with it seemed somehow simpler to ingest than the rest of the dense writing about a king named Arthur and his many legendary knights. The image that held him was all holly greens and reds, with a wide-eyed young man gawking up at an emerald giant in knight’s armor, holding his own severed head as it rained blood. Beyond them, rows of knights and King Arthur himself stared over their banquet tables.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight had much the same bones as other fairy tales he was privy to, but the boy had caught on a word that had yet to show up anyplace else in his storybooks. A word that carried with it implications of revelry that was meant for adults as much as children, a thing of games and gifts and feasting and joy that nobody grew out of. A miserable fate that seemed to be the case with birthnights. The boy was alone in celebrating his, despite Father, Mum and Papa surely having birthnights of their own. It suggested to him that birthnights would go without celebration on some distant grownup year. But a holiday! Those stuck. And they were for everyone.

All this in mind, he had come to Father with the book under his arm and asked, “What’s Christmas?”

 Father declared that Christmas was two things. First, a dreamed-up fiction for the imaginary knights in the book to celebrate. Second, a topic the boy was not to mention again. Now give him the book, diavol. 

Foolishly, the boy had hugged the book to himself, citing the fact that it was in the library, and Father had said he could read whatever he liked in it, and—

“Boy,” Father had said, soft as a knife cutting snow, “you have a moment to consider whether you wish to disobey me.” Father’s eyes had flared. “There, it has passed. Now give me the book.”

The boy had given it. Father had given it to the fireplace.

Knowing he wasn’t to cry and waste blood, the boy had held his tears in. At least until he was outside, far from the courtyard and tucked up in a tree, weeping until he was the color of Papa’s hair. Mum had found him. They’d returned home only when they felt sunrise plodding toward them. The next nights had been odd. Different in the way they had been after Father had torn Hoppy to shreds.

That time before had ended with Father taking him aside for a lecture on the folly of pining for weak animals that would only break one’s heart with their frailty, capped with the gifting of a wolf crafted from downy fur and glass eyes. The boy had managed to tamp back joyous tears then, embracing his Father through an armful of plush.

The atmosphere of those preceding nights had settled thickly again. And it came, as it had before, from Papa. It was not so fiery as Father’s presence or as icy as Mum’s, but it was there. No one was more aware of it than Father. It might have been funny in a book: Father growing more and more agitated the more sedate Papa turned, until Father was left pacing and fuming while Papa went silent and almost frigid with patience. Until, finally, a week’s worth of nights passed and Papa and Mum came to the boy with talk of Longest Night. A thing left uncelebrated thus far because Father was not one for frivolity and Papa and Mum had left off holidays when they came to live in the castle.

Why?

“Your parents want for so little here, diavol,” Father had broken in, lupine smile back in its place. “It seemed unnecessary for us to bother with such rites. But you are here and young and new enough to want such things.” A clawed hand had flapped as Father dismissed them and himself. “Revel with it as you like.”

 And that had been that.

Now here was Father, scrutinizing the tree, curling his lip at the decoration.

“Is something wrong, Father?”

“Not for me. I am not the one expecting a tree wearing nothing but nuts and berries to stand out from every other in the forest. Even painted, it will hardly catch any Visitor’s eye.”

The boy sat up with a shiver, “It won’t?”

“I am afraid not. Your Papa and your mother, they hail from a choked and choking city with little in the way of nature. It is no wonder any meager flash of green caught attention there. But here, in our verdant mountains, there would need to be more applied. This?” He flicked one of the nutshell cords Mum had helped him with. “Will be as good as invisible.” He held up his hand before the boy could speak. “I have something that may be of use. Supposing you wish to bother with it.”

The boy was already adhered to his side. Off they went, up, up, up to Father’s own bedroom. There, piled in the corner…

“The coins will not hang, of course. But these?” Father hooked a dust-caked golden necklace. A ruby huge as a hen’s egg and bright as his own brooch dangled on it. The boy was already enamored with a chain of twinkling emeralds and a bracelet dewed with diamonds. “If these do not snare attention, the Visitors must be blind.” They were perfect and the boy told him so, pausing in his elation to embrace his Father’s leg tight enough to break an ordinary man’s bones. “Yes, yes. Take your bounty, magpie, and be off.” But Father lingered to watch as the boy loaded himself up with chains and cuffs enough to make him jingle all the way downstairs.

“Mum! Papa! Father had more decorations!”

They saw. Mum kept her expression even while Papa straightened with something like recognition. Yet this moment passed as the work of stringing the gold along the boughs began. The tree glittered and blazed as though it had been crafted by a giant’s jeweler. Given the chance, the boy might have sat up with the tree all day just to stare at it.

“You need to rest, Sweetheart. There’s more to do tomorrow.” Papa held out a sheet of paper and a sharpened crayon. “Remember?”

The boy squirreled himself away with the stationery, scribbling carefully in his coffin. Another important thing to remember about Longest Night was that the Visitors were not like himself or Mum or Father. They couldn’t just dip into someone’s mind and know what they wanted. If the boy did not write out what he wished for and have it sent out, the Visitors would be left to guess. Papa was entrusted with delivering his list in the post on his next errand in town. Father even let him seal the envelope with his own stamp, the wax writhing with a scarlet dragon.

With that done, now he had to consider what gifts he would bring to the tree. For the Visitors were not responsible for every present brought. Families wrapped and traded gifts among themselves too. But oh! What could he give that his parents, who wanted for nothing in the castle? Worse, how could he do what even the Visitors couldn’t, and guess the answers? He was not as smooth as Mum or Father when he peeked into a mind; even Papa caught him at it. There was simply no knowing without being found out. So…

“Mum?”

Yes?

“If…someone wanted to get you something for Longest Night, what would it be?”

 I need nothing and want little, Mum assured, her hand soft in his hair. But I suppose if I had to want something, it would be my loves, safe and happy.

That hardly narrowed it down, but the boy didn’t say so. He went to Papa.

“Papa, is there anything you want that you didn’t ask the Visitors for?”

“My family safe and happy.”

“No, I mean something that can go in a box.”

“Do you not still fit in the coffin?”

The boy huffed away, still puzzling. Surely Father would have something he wanted. Father was never satisfied. There had to be something he—

“The things I want are not delivered to me, diavol. If I want a thing, I take it. Besides,” Father’s teeth shined bright and sharp as icicles, “I have you and your mother and dear Papa. You are gifts that give every night in new and wonderful ways. As to anything I want beyond that?” A shrug. “Those will come to me in time. …Oh dear, such a look. Whatever is the matter, child?”

“I can’t wrap any of that! Mum and Papa didn’t say anything I could wrap either! Longest Night is only a few weeks away and I don’t know what to make or to find or—or anything!” He stared glumly out the frosted window as the moon stared glumly back. “I don’t want to be the only one who doesn’t give anything.”

“Mm. So you shouldn’t. Folk such as the Visitors do take such a sour turn if they think they spy someone being selfish. Yes,” Father nodded with solemn weight, “you must have something to offer. I dread to think what would happen if the Visitors discovered you left your poor parents with nothing. Come.” Father rose and turned on his heel. The boy scrambled after him. “We shall find them something fitting.”

Again, the trip to Father’s chambers. The boy left it beaming, his new treasure hidden inside a blanket.

“But Father, this is all for Mum and Papa. What about yours?”

Father only grinned, insisting, “The Visitors know I am lord of this castle and Count of these lands. I would draw ire myself if I went bothering anyone for excess. No, diavol, that you would give these gifts from my hand and yours is fine enough.”

Time passed. Games were played. No titanic knights came around asking to have his head lopped off, thankfully. Although the boy did treat himself to one snowman he dappled all over with coniferous green before knocking its head off with a twig.

Other than that, he built up a whole snow family with Papa. Father took him flying to see the entire valley from above, mute and lovely in its winter white. Mum started a snowball battle with him that stretched for some nights off and on. It might have been shorter had Father not joined his side and made a war of things. And that too might have ended in a short victory if Father were not distracted by the boulder of a snowball that struck him from behind. Papa dashed away from his vantage point and into the trees. Father, being himself, gave snarling grinning chase. While they were off playing hunt, the boy pleaded a tired and happy truce to Mum. Towards dawn, Father tromped home with ice on his boots and Papa in his arms, drowsy and swaddled in Father’s cloak.

After that was the Eve before Shortest Day.

The boy could scarcely sit still all night. He would swear the clocks were going slower and that Father was somehow stretching the night out even further by covering up both moonrise and sunrise with extra helpings of cloud. It wasn’t until Mum and Papa sat by the fire for stories that he ceased fretting. This was Longest Night tradition as well.

“I thought grownups always did story time all quiet, reading to themselves.”

“Usually we do. But on this evening, and on through the last nights of the year, we like to tell stories to each other.”

Often frightening ones. We understand if you do not wish to listen.

But the boy was already in Mum’s lap, sharp ears up and mind alert. Mum told her stories. The boy shuddered through some and gasped over others.

Would you like to stop?

“No…” came from under the boy’s blanket.

…Would you like Papa to tell one?

“I’d be happy t—,” The boy popped his head out the blanket and twisted in his mother’s lap. Papa told his stories. They were not half so scary as Mum’s. A few even made him laugh. It was at the end of one of these that he heard the rooster outside begin to crow. The boy sat up as if pinched and went running to the nearest window. Too many clouds and a new swirling of snow and no hint of daylight yet, but the rooster always knew when the sun was coming. It was time.

“The plate! Mum, Papa, we need to set out the plate!” They set it out. A thing with biscuits and hendl and a helping of hot chocolate in a little cup. The boy pinned a note of thanks under fork for good measure. “I’m ready to sleep now.”

Dearest, the sun isn’t even up. Are you sure?

“Very sure. It’s time for everyone to sleep. Please.”

“Mm,” Papa nodded. “And you won’t be up running circles around the vault past sunrise?”

“No. I’m going right to sleep.”

Some hours and a sunrise later, the boy was up and pacing. Just to tire himself. That was all.

That doesn’t feel like sleeping.

The boy returned to his coffin. It was tricky to lay there with all the secret flotsam hidden inside with him. He managed to keep his eyes shut until roughly noon. Then he went slinking toward the stairs. Just to see if the Visitors had come. Nothing more. Nothing—

“Were you going somewhere, diavol?” This time the boy almost yelped aloud. Father almost never bothered to be awake during the day. But for Shortest Day, he had sat and lurked upon the stair. Waiting. “Were you?”

“No, Father.”

“You were just stretching your legs, perhaps?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. I was stretching mine too. Now sleep.”

The boy dragged himself back to his coffin and flopped despondently into his covers. Shortest Day was a lie, he decided. It was actually the Longest Day. Perhaps even an eternal one. It would never ever end and he would be doomed to toss and turn in the coffin forever and ever and…

He woke to the tell-tale shift of day falling to dusk. It bristled in his bones. Carefully, carefully, the boy peeked from his coffin. Mum and Father were still in asleep. He gathered up his hoard of gifts and crept on half-mist feet up the stairs and away to the tree. Elation almost made him fumble the crookedly wrapped packages.

The Visitors had come and gone. Presents stood waiting under the twinkling branches. The plate and cup were empty. Scrawled on his own note in tiny block letters was a message of thanks in return from the Visitors; they looked forward to next year’s trip. The boy snatched the note up for his pocket, tucked his gifts behind the tree, and ran.

Up to the tower, dashing to Papa’s bed. How could he still be asleep!?

“Papa! Papa, Papa, Papa—,”

“Yes, yes, yes?” Papa asked into his pillow.

“They came! The Visitors came and it’s Longest Night! You have to get up, come look!”

Papa lurched upright, bloodshot but smiling.

“I’ll be down soon. I have to put my coffee on. Are we the only ones up?”

“I’ll get Mum and Father!”

And he raced away before Papa had gotten both feet on the floor. He paused only for another giddy glance at the tree, then onward again. Mum was already sitting up in her coffin, taking a moment to stretch and stand.

“Mum!”

Yes?

“It’s Longest Night!”

So it is. Did the Visitors come by?

“Yes! There’s so much and it’s so pretty and Papa is getting up but he has to do his coffee first and Mum you have to go look at the tree and is Father up yet?” He wasn’t. Mum watched the boy lunge toward the great black coffin. The boy pressed himself right up to the lid, whisper-shouting, “Father. Father, it’s Longest Night. Are you up, Father? Father, you have to get up, come see! Father, Father, Father, Father—,”

The lid opened a crack. A red eye gleamed.

“I will rise when it is time I rise. Go with your mother.”

The lid closed.

Mother and son went up. Papa was there, a steaming cup in hand.

Counting a missing head, Papa asked, “Did he want us to wait?”

“Wait for what?”

Papa and the boy jumped. Mum narrowed her eyes. Father was in the room and wearing a robe the boy had never seen before. A thing of deep arterial scarlet lined in ermine. He dragged the largest armchair up to sit and watch as the boy assailed the bounty around the tree. Toys and books and a new little fishing pole and a music box and a dozen other fun little oddments were waiting, some from the Visitors, others from his parents. The boy was so dazed by it all that he nearly forgot his own part. Nearly.

“Your turn!” the boy announced to Mum and Papa who had just taken their own seats after clearing the mess away as paper flew. The boy took his own offerings from behind the tree and placed them proudly in their laps. Father’s grin sharpened as Mum and Papa unwrapped two leatherbound journals with fine fountain pens to match. “Father helped me find them. He said you were both such good writers when you all first met, but lost your diaries when you came to live in the castle. And see!” He shuffled some of the gifts aside to dredge up his own new sketchpad. “We can all do writing and drawing together! I want to make a book, maybe.”

Mum and Papa continued to smile, but a flint of hardness passed in her eyes and a melting fatigue polished his.

You would make a wonderful author, Dearest. You could illustrate your own adventures.

The boy pretended not to notice how her claws pricked the cover as she set the journal aside. Papa put his own down gently. His hand now free, he laid it on the boy’s shoulder.

“Are you forgetting one, Sweetheart?”

“Oh!” He was. The boy ducked back around the tree and came up with the third gift; one Father did not know of. Father’s grin actually faltered as the boy rushed up with the little package in hand. A tiny box smothered in butcher paper. The boy bounced on his heels as Father opened it with agonizing slowness. The paper revealed box of weathered secondhand shop velvet. This had not come from the boy, but his Papa. The gift inside had his touch too. “Papa waded out to get them before the river iced up. They came out all clean from the water.” Father said nothing, casting a steady glance at the back of Papa’s head. Papa nursed his coffee from one hand and twined his other with Mum’s. Father switched the box from his right to his left hand and gingerly wedged it open with his thumb.

Inside, gold shined in the shape of two coins. Their already-rough images were smoothed from the river and the metal was brighter than any token Father had dug up from under his blue flames. He stared at one and the other, turning them in his fingers.

“…These are quite old,” he said at last. “My own father would know them only from memory.”

“Papa said they were special since the blue flames wouldn’t show up over anything but dry ground to tell where treasure was, so those,” the boy pointed to the coins, “would’ve been hidden forever if they stayed stuck in the riverbed. And he taught me how to do buying with them.”

“It was a bargain,” Papa hummed. “I bought such a fine piece of quartz off you with my two little coins. Practically a steal.” So saying, Papa cast a smiling glance at Mum. Mum cast her own back, turning her gift from Papa over and over in her free hand, the firelight filling its pale crystal like magic. It turned out that Papa had taken the lump of quartz into town to have a man chip it into the shape of an owl for Mum. Mum had written Papa a slim storybook all her own and it now sat tucked within Papa’s robe, flat against his heart.

“A steal you say,” Father huffed. “It might be, if my eyes do not deceive me. Or have I gone without a gift from my friend and the mother of our son?”

Your eyes deceive you, Mum intoned, her gaze still firmly nailed to the clear stone owl. The gift is from us both. In the tree.

Father and the boy looked up. A large envelope the color of ivory balanced in the branches, wrapped in a red ribbon.

“I can get it!” The boy misted his way up for it, pondering the crinkling weight inside. He turned it over to find Mum’s own elegant swirling script penned along the flap.

For Future Consideration

—J, M

Father took the envelope from him with even gentler, almost tentative care. He even sniffed it. Mum and Papa gave him only an idle glance. The boy fidgeted again.

“I can open it if you want.” He reached for the ribbon. Father swatted at his knuckles.

“Shoo, thief. Go play with your own spoils.” The boy retracted his hand and even went to sit among his presents, but his eyes stayed with Father and his gift. After some endless seconds, the red ribbon fell away, the envelope was opened, and out came…paper. A thick sheet so large that it had to be folded twice to fit within its broad container. Father frowned at this until he opened the entire thing. For once, the smile on his face seemed actually to reach his eyes.

“Father, what is it?”

“Art,” Father beamed. “Of a very particular kind. Perhaps intended to lure me away to France.”

“What?”

Father turned the paper around. It was a poster done in reds and blacks, showing a smiling woman with a narrow sword on a stage. A man had dropped flat past her feet while beyond them an audience sat and watched. There was another man dangling by a rope around his neck, looking annoyed. Above it all were the words Le Grand Guignol on a banner. It looked scary, but the style of it made the boy think of the funny comics Papa let him clip out of his newspapers. Light, almost silly, like the fearful things were there for the crowd to enjoy. The lady with the blade certainly seemed happy.

“It is for a certain theatre recently founded in Paris,” Father went on, raising an eyebrow again at Mum’s writing on the envelope. “They put on the most amusing plays, I’ve heard.” His gaze leveled first at Mum, then at Papa. “This is a fine thing to consider. Perhaps as a family outing some night.”

The boy sprang up.

“When?”

“When you are old enough, diavol.”

“But how long until that?”

“Long enough that you need not fret about it for some time, Sweetheart. Now, would you be kind enough to hand me one of the ribbons from your pile?” The boy wondered at Papa, though not deep enough to spy in his head. There was a surprise pacing somewhere behind the clear eyes. Another red ribbon was fetched. Papa took it and bound it around his wrist in a bow. It covered half of the boy’s past kisses. “Longest Night comes with feasting. I must fill myself up before I can be decanted.”

Mum and Papa took themselves to the kitchen and the boy followed at their heels. In time, Papa found himself seated at the dining table, trying to both stuff and pace himself between different portions, some heady, some sweet, some rich. He sipped a creamy drink with a funny name—the boy would whisper nog nog nog to himself off and one for the next few days in his coffin, giggling over the sound—and a little of cider and of chocolate and, when Father set down a gleaming bottle of it, something called Tokay.

Eventually Papa pulled away from the table, sighing.

“No more. I will burst.” He unwrapped the ribbon from himself and tucked down the heavy robe’s collar. “I fear I might sleep until the New Year after this.”

“You will do no such thing, my friend,” Father murmured into his neck. “We shall roll you down the stairs if need be.” He slipped his teeth into the bend between Papa’s throat and shoulder. The boy thought he did so with a lighter kiss than usual, almost nipping in the way of a wolf nibbling at his kin in play. Blood welled just the same and Father lapped it clean. Mum went next, just as gentle, nursing in a steady stream. When she pulled away it was with a bloodless kiss to Papa’s jaw.

Thank you, Darling.

Last came the boy, fitting himself carefully on Papa’s wrist. He couldn’t say whether it was the bliss of the holiday or the seasoning of Papa’s meal or some dizzying blend of both, but the kiss tasted better even than his birthnight sip after Papa had sampled the cake. The boy sucked every droplet from his teeth and gums, savoring as best he could.

“That was a really really good kiss, Papa. Is that part of Longest Night too?”

“Perhaps,” Papa said sleepily. “Or else it was the nog.” The word set the boy snickering into his hands again. The Longest Night unspooled and the boy swore again the names must be tricks. How else to explain how infinite the Shortest Day felt and how brief the Longest Night was? Too soon he felt the sunrise coming to herd everyone away to bed. Mum walked with Papa up to the tower. Before the boy could follow up and give his good days, Father halted him with a long white hand at his shoulder.

“Leave them for now, child. There is something waiting for you below.” The boy fought against the urge to race down and ahead. He stayed dutifully parallel to his Father’s long strides, hustling in his own short steps to keep pace. Down in the vault they strolled up to Father’s coffin. “I had my own trouble sleeping during the day. Such was why I was up on the stairs. I believe there is some lump in there that bothered me. Can you see it?”

Father lifted the lid. The boy saw.

Here was the last gift, another tell-tale rectangle whose solid weight spoke to a book hidden in its skin of crimson paper. The boy unwrapped it delicately at first, then in an unstoppable gleeful rush.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight was in his hands again, this time only a solitary volume in its immaculate cover of gold and green foil lettering. He saw it was still made thick with artwork in a spread of fantastical painted visions.

“I shall be glad to bring you all of King Arthur’s legends should you still wish them some night in the future. Such are an old and favorite collection of myths penned in your Papa’s distant England, but many tales are not quite suited for a child. I had thought I’d made the library safe for your eyes and burned my mistake to spare you. But this?” Father tapped the cover with his claw. “This I shall be happy to read and explain, should you desire its deeper meanings. But the lesson at its very top is something clear even to one so young.” Fangs flashed and eyes burned. “The weak live by the mercy of Powers greater than themselves.” The smile softened then, almost musing. “And I suppose the illustrations are to be commended if nothing else.”

The boy nodded at all of this but found his throat too tight to form words. He peered up at his Father’s face, high as the moon above him. His eyes asked. Father nodded and opened his arms. The boy leapt up and locked his small arms as far around Father’s shoulders as they could reach. Father held him close in turn. His throat stayed strangled with heat and his eyes threatened to betray him with the ruby twinkle of tears. He fought them back.

“Thank you, Father. I love it.” His face buried in the black fall of hair, his brow rasped against the trimmed wilderness of winter’s growing beard. “I love you.”

Father was quiet for a moment. His down-spotted hand stroked the small curve of the boy’s head.

“I love you too, diavol. Happy Longest Night.”

The boy wished him the same. He gave his love and his happy wishes to Mum on the way back up, racing against dawn.

Hurry, Dearest. He was half-asleep when I left him.

The boy all but flew. Papa was in bed, eyes still open for him. If only just.

“Did you enjoy your first Longest Night?”

“It was better than anything I thought it’d be, Papa. Why haven’t we done this before?”

“You were a babe,” Papa smiled, eyelids drooping, “and your parents had forgotten celebrations for quite some time. I cannot speak for Father, but your Mum and I did not have much celebration even when we were small. Our lives were very thin as children and stayed much the same as we grew up.”

“But then you met Father,” the boy beamed. “You came to the castle where everything is and he loved you like the princes in the books do.”

“…Yes. He did. And I loved your Mum. And now we live in the castle, where everything is, love and all. And where we forgot much of holidays, for there was no point to them. Not here.” Papa’s hand settled on him, light and cool as snow. His eyes shined like wet ice. Perhaps quartz. “Not until you. We might never have remembered the 21st of December without you, son. Thank you. Come here.” The boy came, folding himself into his Papa’s arms under the covers. His ear pressed to the faint drumming of the man’s heart. “I love you, Sweetheart. So much.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

“Mm.”

“Happy Longest Night.”

“Happy Longest Night…”

Soon Papa was asleep. His chest lifted and dropped with his breath, the boy clinging to him and the sound. He left a bloodless kiss on his Papa’s cheek as the first rays of sun arrived, lining the mountains in gold.

Down the steps.

Into the coffin.

The boy laid his head down and began to dream of the next Longest Night.

(This goes out to @ibrithir-was-here in particular. Happy Nearly Birthday, Merry Christmas, and a gothically grim-sweet Longest Night to you, friend.)

[coweye]

Commitment Issues - Part 10

Pairing: Benjamin Miller x Reader Words: 6k Summary: When you try and take your friends with benefits relationship to the next level, Benny’s response isn’t quite what you were expecting.

A/N: I'm a piece of shit when it comes to updating, I know this. You know this, but its finally fucking done. I hope it gives you all the feels it gave me writing it and thankyou for sticking with me. ily all.

I have rewritten the whole fic, slight changes to the story but nothing major, if you need a refresh cause its been a while might I suggest ✨this one✨ instead. It is now in 2-handy-dandy easy to find parts.

➢fic masterpost PREVIOUS PART

“Everything is looking good - your perineum has healed very nicely.” Dr Clarke announced from her sensitive position between your stirruped knees. The doctor pushed herself back on her rolling stool as she began to remove her gloves to dispose of them before she turned to you with a cheerful smile. “I’m happy to sign you off with a clean bill of health, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but to return her infectious grin after, of course, you lifted your legs from the stirrups to allow for a smidge more dignity. 

“So… Sex? I’m all good?”

“Yes, Y/N, you’re all cleared for sex. It's been seven weeks since your labour and everything looks good, no pain. Obviously if that changes during and you get any red discharge, well, just make sure you keep an eye on it and get in touch if anything worries you. ”

That was two hours ago and you weren’t ashamed to admit you were already in the middle of an everything bath. Every surface of your body was buffed smooth and slowly being moisturised by the bath bomb fizzing away. 

A glass of red wine sat on the ledge, as you lay back basking in the candle light despite it being midday. 

Tonight was the night. For weeks on end you had fallen asleep aching and whilst clitorial stimulation was a powerful thing, nothing could replace that beautiful cock inside of you, stretching you to your limit making you cry for… Ahem. 

It had been a somewhat gradual development over the past six weeks; your transformation into a teenage boy with uncontrollably raging hormones. 

 The deprivation had amounted in essence to a month and half of edging and you were one bad afternoon away from mounting Ben’s leg like a bitch in heat.

Benny was resolute in his decision and had apparently saint-like (read as masochistic) restraint and would not go any further until he had confirmation from your doctor that it was safe, nevermind that you were a highly trained combat medic who knew her own body. 

Despite his refusal to go past third base, the two of you had become reacquainted in your dating period, he’d been at the back of your throat more nights than you could count and you were so desperate to feel him inside you again.

Sure, you’d come more times than you could count in the past two weeks - Benny ate pussy like the fucking champ he was. The man had made you come on his tongue three times in one night and yet when you fell asleep wrapped in his arms, your insides felt hollow. 

It was like having a prime rib in front of you and only being able to eat the french fries. Sure, they were salty and delicious but they didn’t fill you up quite the same way.

So, when you heard the front door open downstairs you were elated. 

The pounding of Benny's feet as he took the steps two at a time was music to your ears and your good mood continued as after a minute of searching for you he began to open the bathroom door. 

There he found you in a bath full of bubbles, in what you hoped was a seductive pose with your elbows poised on the tub - your collar bones were popping in the very least.

“Well.. hello.” Benny gave you a sleazy smirk as he advanced. Leaning over the bath to greet you with a deep kiss. And boy, was it deep - you could taste his coffee order on his tongue as it swept leisurely against your own. When he had finally had his fill, he pulled back if only slightly, resting his forehead against yours and  crouching next to the tub.

“You look like a goddamn angel.” He whispered, running a thumb down your spine gently caressing every sud covered joint. “All good at the docs? Everything where it should be?”

“She gave me a clean bill of health.” You tell him, slightly disappointed with the mood change but as always overwhelmed by the concern he held for you.

“You tell her about your ankles?”

“Please, Ben. Let's not talk about my swollen ankles, right now.” You wrapped your wet arms around his neck and pulled him forward with every intention of having him join you in the tub.

“Woah, tiger. Did you forget? It’s Santiago’s Bon Voyage party! He’s waiting downstairs with Mag’s.” He grinned as he pulled away, training sweats now covered in bubbles. 

Unable to stop yourself, you pouted. “Ben, if we had a party every time that man leaves the US we’d never stop being drunk. Come join me, please?” Ben’s brows furrowed for a moment and you dared to believe you'd won before a second, much more annoying voice, chimed in from the hallway.

“Now that is hurtful mi corazón!”

Benny chuckled as you rolled your eyes. He used your momentary distraction to pull away, stood to his full height and turned the bathroom lights on.

“You ruined my bath.” You sighed as you pulled yourself up and turned on the shower to rinse yourself. “I had so many juicy scenarios of us, that funnily enough all ended with you soapy and glistening.” 

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me about them?” Benny smirks as he begins shaving. 

“You're really not gonna join me?” You pout yet again.

“Baby, if I go anywhere near you whilst your tits look like that, I won’t leave this house tonight.” 

It's the eye contact that gets you, it makes your knees weak and that near constant ache flare up. With a huff you shut the water off, you were slow as you climbed out of the bath, in part because you didn’t want to slip and die, the other; a seductive dance. 

Benny was doing his best to ignore you and stick to his task, though you could see his eyes follow you in the mirror, especially as your breasts bounced as you hopped your leg out of the tub. 

Granted, not quite as graceful as you imagined, yet it didn’t seem to matter to him one iota. 

Slowly, with the towel as a prop you took your time to dry off, you ran it along every inch of your entirely exposed flesh, watching as his enraptured eyes followed its path. 

Completely unable to help yourself, you leaned forward, pressing your bare breasts up against his arm. Your hands wrapped around the long bottle of cocoa butter as you backed away innocently. 

As you were yet to get a rise out of him, you decided to raise the stakes in an all out act of war. Under the guise of hanging your towel up on the rack beside the bath, you turned on your heel. 

With your back now exposed to him, in one fluid movement you bent at the waist, exposing everything to the father of your child. 

It was a cruel wanton decision. 

At his inhale, you knew you’d met your mark, so, as if you weren’t currently splayed out showing him your pussy, you began rubbing your cocoa butter into your newly smooth legs despite the less than ideal position for lotioning.

Once your legs were thoroughly lotioned, you looked over your shoulder to see Benny’s eyes trained on your exposed pussy, almost salivating at your incorrigible offering.  

A part of you was happy, he was finally feeling what you had been non-stop for three months. 

With that thought in mind, your brain cooked up a delicious little plan. 

Benny, as unrestrained as you currently were, driven to the edge over and over unable to tumble the precipice. He’d be an animal. The one he usually reserved for the fights. The ravaging wouldn’t quite be the love making he wanted but it would soothe the ache deep inside you.

Utterly resolved, you stood back up. You moved the bottle from palm to palm, suggestively stroking the phallic shape. He was completely entranced in your seduction, you were half convinced he’d completely forgotten Santiago's name as he watched your every movement with lust laden eyes.

As you reached across like before and your erect nipple brushed his bare arm, he turned to you. You placed the bottle back in its spot before you looked up at him. 

“Ooh Baby,  you cut yourself,” Slowly, all whilst maintaining eye contact your tongue brushed the pad of your thumb. Rising up on your tippy toes, your nipples barely brushing against his t-shirt clad chest, you wiped the line of blood from his chin. “Careful, love. I don’t want my seat to be hacked to pieces for later.”

Benny was, to put it lightly, stunned. 

It was fair to say, Benjamin had always been the aggressor in your encounters. 

It wasn’t so much that you were shy around the topic of sex, it was just that Benny was so outgoing. He told you what he wanted, not with words so much but with his body - that wasn’t to say that he didn’t have a dirty mouth to boot, but he was always the first to make a move and you liked it that way. 

This new desperate need had bought out a side of you neither had seen before and if the jostled mess of a Miller you left in your wake was any indication, you both liked it. 

Unfortunately instead of being pounded into your head board until you couldn’t walk straight as you should by all rights currently be doing, you were sat in Will’s lounge nursing your third glass of merlot openly eye fucking the father of your child.

In your defence, you had not hidden your desire to leave and for the most part everyone was pretty understanding, except for Benny. 

Who refused to leave or acknowledge you.

You were frustrated - no - you had passed frustrated two weeks ago;  you were furious. 

It had been three hours, you’d made the small talk, your daughter had been paraded around her doting uncles and the party herd had thinned to your inner circle. 

You loved Santiago so much, but even he understood; a girls gotta eat.

Consider it a by-product of three months of edging or maybe it was just plain childish revenge but his refusal to leave made you want for him to feel as desperate and as needy as you had been.

So, you constructed your three point plan. 

Turn him on

Leave him wanting more

Reap the benefits

It wasn’t a difficult plan, sure.

In theory giving the father of your child blue balls was pretty straight forward, but it was complicated when he was very deliberately avoiding looking your way; It seemed you’d made quite the impression in the bathroom. 

A burst of feminine pride overtook you at the thought of that and it gave you the courage for your first step. 

Eavesdropping, you joined Val and Santi’s conversation by the wine table. You were in the direct eye line of Benny, where he was currently talking with Frankie, Will and would you believe it-  Jen from Christmas! 

(It seemed like they had a cute little ‘will they/won’t they’ thing going on and you were here for it. )

As you filled your glass with the dregs of the bottle you joined their conversation, it was about Santi’s plans in Australia. Now you didn’t believe the majority of them as he used the word retire about six times, but you were happy he was happy, and that was enough. 

You’d almost forgotten your plan as you laughed with your friends, gossiping about Will and Jen.  

“I really hope they make it this time.” Val sighed heavily to the two of you. “She makes him so happy. It’s nice to see him smile!”

“I’m sure they will, they keep finding their way back to one another.” You added. 

“Plus, she’s great in bed.” Both women fixed Santi with a glare, he had the wrong crowd. “Will. Will told me she’s great in bed. Ladies, ladies - I would never do that to my boy.”

Rolling your eyes at your friend's joke, you surveyed the room. 

Ben still wouldn’t look your way and you felt that was unlikely to change any time soon. You were racking your brain for ideas on how to wind him up and short of a bend and snap you were coming up empty. 

At least, that was, until you saw the table.

You see, Marianna had a multipack of suckers, open on the coffee table in front of the couch she was currently watching her iPad on. 

Abandoning your glass of wine after politely excusing yourself, you took one and sat beside the child who paid you very little heed as you plopped down.  

Unwrapping a strawberry flavoured pop, you brought it to your lips. 

Benny was deliberate in his avoidance of eye contact, however, your eyes must have burnt a hole in his head as finally his eyes swept to the right, almost as a scan of the perimeter. They caught your own and the image you must have painted… your lips were slick with saliva and strawberry syrup. 

Your tongue wantonly ran along the pop whilst you maintained your very best bedroom eyes, it was difficult to do whilst also making sure Marianna never looked your way. 

A good thing too because you wouldn't be able to cover the fee of therapy for the young girl.

Slowly you placed the lollipop back in your mouth, wetting it once again with your tongue. As you pulled it back out you made sure your lips dragged along the surface. 

Benny stared at you as if you were prey, his hands tightened on his beer bottle as his chest moved in heavy deliberate breaths. 

Your pièce de résistance to bring it home is when you stuck your tongue out and bobbed it across. It was positively vulgar the way your spit dragged behind the ball, but Benny was mesmerised, which just so happened to draw Will and Jen’s attention. 

Very quickly your tongue was back in your mouth and your lollipop was resting on the inside of your cheek.

“Really, Y/N? You’re a mother and Mari’s right there!” Will huffed with your daughter in his arms, before he turned back to Ben.  “Seriously Ben-” 

Happy with your display you turned to Marianna, wrapping an arm around her. “What we watchin’?” 

Will had gone back to fawning over Maggie and Benny’s eyes strayed your way once more.  You shot a second wink at the man who had driven you to this insanity, deciding to be kind - well, kinda - You removed the pop from your mouth and with one clean swipe, licked all of the strawberry residue from your lips and promptly placed the lollipop between your molars and bit down, cleaving the treat in two. You couldn’t resist smiling innocently as you chobbled the hard candy, you couldn’t help the pride you felt as he discreetly attempted to rearrange his trousers. 

After being caught by Will and catching up with Marianna on the goings on of JoJo Siwia you headed over to Val, Santi and Jen with every intention of saving the new arrival. 

However your journey across the room was interrupted by Margaret and it wasn’t truly until you raced over to comfort your crying daughter that you came to the realisation that the man you loved was a monster. 

You were at Frankie’s side after a mere moment, her wails pierced your soul. 

“I think she's hungry.” Frank murmured whilst stroking her head and whispering in Spanish that was both too quick and quiet for you to make out, however Margaret’s cries had died down into whines. “Bottles in the bag?” 

“I think Ben left it out in the hall. You good with her?” You smile gratefully when he didn’t dignify it with a response, only cradling her closer and whilst patting her nappy clad butt rhythmically. 

You were in the coat cupboard under the stairs, searching through the coats and bags as you whispered distractedly to yourself. “Where’s your daddy put the diaper bag, Mags?”

The door creaked closed behind you, curious, you turned towards the noise and before your brain could even process the fact it was a trap, Benny had you pinned up against the wall with a hand over your mouth. 

A coat hook dug into your L3 yet as he pushed his hardened cock against your thigh; you can’t find it in you to care.

“What you did in the bathroom was mean. What you did with the lollipop was even meaner. Now I’ve gotta’ be the meanest and you don’t know how much I wanna take you home and-” He grunted into your neck.

“Mggie-mmmhgry–” You interrupted beneath his hand. He released your mouth and you repeated. “Maggie’s hungry.”

Benny ignored you entirely and began devouring your low neckline. “I was in the kitchen making her a bottle, mama.”

“God-” Your eyes clenched shut as his mouth explored the expanse of your throat “You’re such a good daddy, baby.” 

He goes rigid. 

For a solitary moment, you’re not sure if it's a good rigid or a bad one. 

Then he bit your lip. 

“Oh. You like it when I call you Daddy?” You whispered, pulling away from his mouth for a moment, before you joined your lips again. You had begun grinding your thigh into his bulge, phase one of your plan. 

In between hot kisses, you reached down and undid his trouser button. Your hand was sliding into his pants and wrapped around his member before he even knew what was happening. You had switched positions, now his back was up against the opposite wall and you were in control. 

Benny’s head fell back as you teased him. You dropped your mouth to his neck, kissing and biting the chorded muscle there as he rested his head. Eyes squeezed shut as he wrestled for control. 

His gasps were completely wrecked. Part of you felt vindicated; he now knew what you had suffered for the past few weeks. The desperate need for release. 

Benny sounded insanely close already just from a dry handjob in his brother's coat closet. You almost felt bad when, alas, just like that, you pulled your palm away.

“Y/N?” His voice was dazed as his eyes opened and his breathing remained ragged.

“It was a real dick move making us stay so long.” You pouted angrily, though there was no real heat behind your words as your body stayed pressed against his. “You don’t even know how wet I’ve been for the past five hours,”

Taking his strong lithe hands in yours - one of your favourite parts of him, back before you discovered a few new favourites - and lifted your dress. He was like a rag doll, pliable. You’d never seen Benny Miller so… submissive. 

He groaned as you lifted your dress to reveal your bare core. His two fingers looked giant as your much smaller ones guided him down, of course he helped, eager for anything you’d give. 

It had been a while and despite the labour you were incredibly tight, but your arousal more than lubricated the way. You were positively aching as his fingers dipped straight inside your channel. The groan was that of a tortured man as he felt the sheer amount of slick. He had bent down, his head resting on your shoulder for better purchase. 

Benny seemed to remember himself as he delved deeper, now scissoring his two fingers inside you. 

You’re big enough to admit that as you gave a gasp of pleasure, you were tempted to abandon the plan entirely, in favour of riding his cock in the cupboard under the stairs. You grabbed his long hair, your fingers weaving through to his roots. Not pulling, per say but enough that you had regained control. It helped that he had bent slightly to push his fingers deeper inside of you, in what you assumed from the pleasure coursing through your veins was an attempt to reach your cervix, meaning you were now the same height. 

Your voice was breathy as he had yet to pause his ministrations. Yet you placed a wet kiss on his lips, nipping at his bottom lip as you parted. 

“You’d slip right in, and you’d be so, so deep and delicious and it’d feel so good … but now you’ve gotta wait.” 

Your hand grabbed at his forearm, stopping his movements. Ever the gentleman, despite his desperate want, pulled back. 

You had yet to release your hold on his forearm as you bought his slick fingers up to your mouth and cleaned them off for him.

Denying yourself the quickie was worth it for the wounded groan of defeat as he pinched his eyes closed with his head thrown back. It almost broke your resolve as he stuffed his still hard cock back in his pants with some difficulty, looking all sad. 

Yet you stayed strong and rejoined the party, looking a little frazzled yourself. 

One and a half excruciating hours later, when you finally make it through your front door, you are burning for him. 

Which coincidentally means that your daughter decides that this is the perfect opportunity for a complete and utter meltdown. 

It was like the girl knew and had to throw down one last roadblock to fuck with you. Honestly, you were contemplating abandoning her at a fire station when Benny began rocking the wailing baby against his chest, soothing her cries and crooning softly to her. 

“You go up - I’ll get her a bottle.” Benny whispers to you, squeezing your palm. Weekends were important to Ben; giving you time to yourself, after spending all week with the newborn - he utterly cherished the time spent with his girl.

You placed a kiss on his cheek and stroked her head as you passed. 

Rushing to the bedroom, you grab a nightie from your drawer, it was the cute one you hadn’t worn in nearly a year. The one with matching, barely there, shorts beneath it. It left just enough to the imagination, not that you imagined you’d be wearing it for long if Benny had his way. 

You brush your teeth, your hair and throw on some deodorant for good measure. 

Fully prepped you return to your bedroom, no Benny in sight. 

Now, it's worth mentioning, you had been turned on for hours at this point. Your core was practically pulsating from watching the father of your child well… father Maggie. But, put it down to the four glasses of merlot or the long nights with a newborn, but as you seductively pose against the pillows waiting for Benny to join you, you find your eyelids become heavier and heavier until you find yourself drifting off into a light sleep.

There’s no telling how long you’ve been asleep, as you have fallen deep into the pillows, no longer sexily poised ready for his arrival. Benny has dipped the warm lights low and Maggie’s white noise machine is soothingly playing Mozart from the bassinet in the corner of the room; it's a perfect night.

“It was selfish of me to wake you up.” Benny’s face is equal parts reverent and guilty as he stares at you, mirroring your position in the pillows. One hand runs up your exposed arm with a delicate soothing touch, one that does little if nothing to soothe you.  “You need your sleep, being a total milf must take it out of you.”

“You’d know.” Your voice is thick with sleep and your retort barely makes any sense, but he breathes through his nose, shaking his head at your delirium. 

“Go back to sleep baby.” He pulls the covers up over your legs. 

For a moment you are stunned; you had literally been edging him all night, and yet he still prioritised your rest. 

It was hard to associate him as the man who had broken your heart all those months ago for merely asking for a relationship. Yet it was him who was scared to take that step towards caring for another person. Benny had grown so much, as a father, as a partner; as a man. 

He had proven himself time and time again, worthy of the unspoken feelings between you, the three words which the two of you held captive, weighed heavy on your tongue. Despite all of your confessions both of you are too afraid to say them, both as complicated mess of commitment issues as the other.  

It wasn’t a game, withholding them, per say. It was fear; plain and simple, to say them, as if those words would somehow make this real. This thing between the two of you, the thing you had been chasing all those months ago, when you had confronted him outside your building. 

Benny opens his arms; an invitation you’d be a fool to refuse. His chest is bare and he’s clad only in his underwear. A discovery you’re happy to make as you burrow into his warm toned chest, though you have no intention of sleep anymore. 

For a moment, you breathe him in. You take stock of all the hurdles, the hurt and heartbreak, the relief and joy the two of you had gone through to get here. Whilst you may wish you’d taken a less scenic route, you can’t begrudge the pain, because it got you where you are now. 

“I love you.” Your voice is thick with both sleep and emotion when you say the words you’ve never spoken romantically to another person. 

He goes stiff and you're proud to say, you’re not afraid. 

Benny has proven himself. 

He has earnt that time, the moment or two he takes to pause, his arms rigid around you in shock at your earnest words. 

You trust him with your heart, because he has shown you beyond doubt he would guard it more ferociously than his own. 

For your faith he rewards you, grabbing your chin and crushing his lips to your own in a soul rendering kiss. One that holds the words he can’t seem quite able to get out, yet you know he feels as strongly as you. 

Benny pulls away and stares at you for a long moment, his blue eyes taking you in as if he’s seeing you for the first time. He manoeuvres you into the downy pillows, so smoothly you’re not entirely sure it wasn’t your idea to move.

Those baby blues glide across your body, taking inventory in a way he’d either never had the time or inclination before.  He is revenant in his reintroduction of your anatomy. 

Benny’s large hand finds your thighs and pushes them apart so he can take his seat between them.  Languidly he crawls above you bearing his weight on his elbows. 

He joins your lips once again, though this time he instantly deepens it, his tongue meeting yours as he licks into your mouth. 

Those hands you love so much, drag down the expanse of your tummy, sliding into the waistband of your night shorts. 

There's a slow drag of his tongue on your bottom lip, as his fingers drag across your soaking wet slit before his two fingers plunge knuckle deep, stretching you with very little resistance. 

You let out a deep moan though his hot mouth swallows your cry. You swear you feel his lips curl in a smile against yours. 

Evidently Benny remembers your body like the back of his hand, as his fingers curl against your walls in just the right way that has your toes curling. His thumb dips into your heat and gathers your slick, before it finds purchase on your bud. 

With military precision he swirls his thumb on your clit and after a few rotations you’re basically a goner. You grab at his hair, as you come hard from just his fingers. His mouth on yours continues to swallow your cries as you ride out your high. When it finally all becomes too much he pulls his sodden fingers from you only to lick them clean. Unable to help yourself, you let out a moan at the wanton show of debauchery. He pulls back for a moment to pull your nightie over your head, leaving you only in your soaked shorts. 

He kisses down your chest, nipping and licking along your breasts - his tongue lavishing your nipples in worship. Benny pushes your wet shorts down your hips, ready to dive in head first and devour your core, however, you’ve had six weeks of agonising foreplay, you are eager for this gorgeous man to be inside of you and ease this painful ache. 

“Benny… Please, I want you inside of me.” For years to come this will be a point of contention, whether or not you begged for his cock that first time. 

But right now, he simply nods pushing himself back up your body, his boxers are kicked down his legs as he makes the journey, desire overflows in your belly, as you look down and see how swollen he is. 

Unable to resist you wrap your hand around him, he grunts in surprise as you stroke him. 

“Careful.” His voice is strained and you realise your calm and collected Benjamin Miller is as desperate and needy as you. 

He crawls up your body and you find yourself in the missionary position, you don't have time to smile at how domestically quaint it is. Before the tip of his cock is rubbing along your clit; once, twice before he lines up and breaches the walls of your cunt. 

It's a tight fight and its slow going. 

You’re newly healed and he’s considerate, though his commentary makes you think the slow pace may also be for his benefit.

“Fucki- shit– you’re fucking tight angel. Tighter than before - fuck, I’m not gonna last.” Inch by delicious inch, you swallow him up.

“Fuck Benny, I forgot how good you-” His hand covers your mouth as hes finally sheathed fully inside of you - he’s fighting for his life not to come early. 

You’re utterly full of him, as your legs wrap around his lithe hips, you’re desperate for him to move.

Finally, he asks; control seemingly regained after a moment or two of splitting you open. “You okay… no pain?”

“I’ll be a whole lot better if you fuck me.” You retort cheekily, to which he grins and kisses you hard as his hips pull back nearly all the way before he spears you with his cock. 

Benny’s thick member drags against your walls, making your eyes roll back at the sheer size of him; your fingers and toys hadn’t done him justice. 

Benny’s hand dips to your cunt, seeking out your bundle of nerves. Which he finds with a combination of his expert touch and his intricate knowledge of your body.

Driving hard into you, you feel the pressure building again, before a tidal wave of pleasure overtakes you. 

“Fuck, Benny…” You have enough about you to remember to whisper as you plea. “Oh fuck- I’m gonna come.”

“Let go, Angel.” He continues his steady rhythm continuing to grind his cock deep inside of you. It hits you like a truck as your whole body clenches around him - a guttural moan leaves your body and your legs lock around his body whilst your heels find purchase in the dimples above his ass. 

Benny’s pace slows but doesn’t stop as he leisurely rolls his hips to draw out your climax. He kisses you deeply, his tongue is slow and deliberate as he explores the plains of your mouth. This intimacy had never been afforded to you, this slow love making, it was new terrain and you fucking loved it. 

With his cock still buried deep inside of you, Benny pulls away licking along your neck. One hand rises from where it had been leisurely playing with your nipple to push your displaced hair behind your ear. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous when you come, your pussy gets so fuckin’ tight.” He tells you, your eyes locking with his baby blues. “...and you’re gonna’ give me another one.”

“Benny … I-” You pant as you’re already straddling the line between pleasure and overstimulation. 

He shushes you, as he begins picking up his pace. His filthy words help build you back up to your peak when he suddenly draws back, pushing your knees up against your chest and a pillow under your hips. This new position drives him deeper and harder with his own knees powering his thrusts. 

“Fucking sweet mother of-” His hand covers your mouth and your moans are drowned out by Ben’s heavy breathing of exertion and slapping of skin on skin. 

“Baby.” He whispers breathily, reminding you of your snoozing dependant in the corner as he continues to pound relentlessly into your core. 

Ben's hands grab at your hips holding you in place as you do everything in your power to angle yourself up and get him as deep as you can. You swear your eyeballs have rolled back into your head permanently as your hands find the headboard, pushing yourself back up and into him, somehow he manages to burrow even deeper. 

“Fuck -” He grunts, his skin is now bathed in a dew of sweat as his long blonde locks fall forward onto his forehead. His eyes are clenched as he chases his pleasure, still fighting it off so that you get there first. 

“Fuck baby … fuck, I need you to come.” Benny groaned. “Give me something nice and tight to come into.”

He needn’t have asked twice. 

The combination of his filthy words, the world devastating thrusts making his balls slap rhythmically against your ass and his practised thumb drawing shapes on your clit had your world shattering once more. 

Benny buried his face in your neck as he came, filling you up whilst you clenched around him with one hand wrapped in his hair and your toes curling against his chest. 

Lingering for a moment, he shifted, keeping himself still inside of you, letting your joints relax either side of you.

The two of you basked in the closeness of one another, time seemed to slow as you lay there stroking Ben Miller's blonde locks as he flourished your chest in kisses with his cock slowly softening inside of you. 

Two Months Later

“Ben … come on we’re going to be late! He’s proposing and if we’re not there he’ll kick your ass.”

“Why my ass?” Your boyfriend questions as he walks down the hall whilst simultaneously knotting his tie. 

“I’m the mother of his favourite niece, he can’t hurt me.” 

“No need to burn Mariana like that, Baby.” He smirks, placing a light kiss on your lips.

“You should’ve heard what that little shit said about my shoes yesterday…” Your feuds with the youngest Morales were both passionate and seemingly never ending. 

Grabbing him by the mess of his tie, you undo his shoddy work. 

“Who’s holding us up now?!” He huffs, though there's ample teasing behind his tone. 

“Oh shush.” You reply whilst you adjust it.  Benny's long arms snake around your waist to rest on your lower back before he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. 

It starts off sweet, honestly! It's nothing more than a peck really, before his tongue presses against your lips and his hands have the meat of your ass squeezed in his palms now somehow underneath your sundress. 

Pushing against his shoulders, you remove yourself from temptation. 

“Did I tell you you look like a fuckin’ angel today?” He murmurs against your throat as he places kisses along the neckline of your dress. “ … C’mon, back of the truck… we can make it to Will’s next engagement.”

“That’s mean.” You huff, knocking his cap off his head before grabbing the car key and the baby. 

He snickers as he grabs his belongings from the dish on the side table preparing to leave the house, it's as you’re just about to cross the threshold with your daughter in your arms that he speaks again.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You pause for a moment utterly stunned at the words you'd been dying to hear for the past 10 years. For all of two seconds you contemplate taking him back upstairs.

“I know.” You simply reply, schooling your face to show none of the emotions currently coursing through your veins.

The booming laugh that follows you out of the house makes absolutely everything worth it. 

THE END.

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[riseoftheangstywriter]

And here is the part 2 to this post!! Part one with Donnie and Mikey can be found there! :))) This was a fun ask to answer!

Leo

"Are you sure you don't want help?" you offer with a glance over at Leo's current predicament. On top of a pizza box he balances two soda cans and a small container of donuts from your favorite bakery in the city. Of course he's doing this all with one hand.

"Hermosa, please. I've got this. No need for you to lift a fin-" As he says that, something on the concrete makes him just slightly loose his balance, the soda cans rolling off from their position. Landing right into your own hands. "...ger."

Pausing for comedic effect, you grin, an unspoken agreement being made to not bring up what had transpired.

After all, it was your one year anniversary. Not to mention he had gone out of his way to make the sweetest little set up on the roof of this building so you could watch the sunset. Fuzzy blankets, string lights. and Leo. It's more than enough for you.

You settle in your spot, playing with the chain of your brand new necklace, Leo's present to you. It's hard not to admire the glint of the sapphire jewel pendant. Blue, just like his mask. You knew it wasn't intentional, having an affinity for the gem long before your feelings for him ever existed.

It was ironic however, like your heart had always known who it would belong to. Blue blue blue..

You felt strangely sentimental all of a sudden. Yes, it was only a year, ad yet the two of you had been through a lot, individually and together. Not to mention the years of friendship before that awkward stage of desperate yearning and denial.

You were.. proud. Of him, and also the "we" the two of you had become.

Leo enters your space, shoulder pressed against yours. A strand of hair is pushed away from your face. He had this ability to turn you to goo. Despite his occasional shyness, he knew exactly what did it for you. Frustratingly charming, but also way sweeter than he gave himself credit for.

He takes your hand, squeezing it. "Hey, y/n. You ready?" He coos in that deliciously soft tone he used only towards you. "Thinking about me when I'm right here?"

Lost in your head, you turn at his query. Knowing that his ego was just a front by now, you roll your eyes, returning the gesture as you rub memorized patterns into his palm with your thumb. "Maybe." You remember something suddenly. "Actually, I have a favor to ask first. Could you open a portal to my place? Just a small one right over my desk, need to grab something."

"Oh? Forgot something?" Grabbing a small pen from his handy side pouch, it comes alive with his signature ninpo as he draws a small circle in the air, a bright portal appearing.

Sticking your hand through, you feel around for what you're searching for, grabbing it firmly. What you pull out is a flat box, topped with a shiny blue bow, for a touch of flair.

You present it to Leo, a shy smile on your face. "For you. Happy anniversary, Leo."

His initial shock is replaced by a smirk, a signal he was about to make one of those silly jokes you loved. "A box? Y/n, you shouldn't have. And such a fine material?"

"Searched all over, last of its' kind," you play into the bit, trying to ease your growing apprehension about your actual gift to him.

His laugh soothes it, and you lean closer, wanting to see his reaction.

"Whaaaat...?" Leo says when he opens the box, the humor in his words gone and replaced by awe. "This is... the last Jupiter Jim comic I need for my volume 1-6 collection."

You nod, biting your lip. "In mint condition too."

"Y-Y/n, you shouldn't have," he repeats, and you don't miss the slight shake in his tone.

"Hey, don't worry," You lift the comic out from the box, not letting it crinkle to reveal the same exact one directly underneath. "I was able to find another copy. Not in mint condition, but still nice enough where you can read it! This one is just for display, since I know you've been dying to get your hands on it."

Hoping your explanation would make things better, you let him piece together his thoughts. Giving him all the time he needed.

But, what you get in response is what you least expected.

"I.. don't deserve this," like he can't stand to see it anymore, he attempts to move the box back into your lap. "I-I'll ruin it by accident, or whatever, and then all the effort you went through to get them will go to waste." He smiles, though it's fake, not reaching his eyes. "I appreciate it, you have no idea how awesome this is but- I shouldn't have it. Give it to Donnie, he wears gloves while reading his comics for crying out loud."

"Leo.." you say, softly at first. "Leo?" A question this time, because how could he even say that about something he's wanted for so long, and especially directed so negatively towards himself?

You make him look at you, tracing the stripes on his arm knowingly, comforting him. "I'm listening, and I hear you. But... no. No, I will not be giving this gift, your gift to anybody else."

"But I-"

"But I do deserve it is what you better have been trying to say, Leo," you scold gently. No anger or frustration is felt by you. Just an overwhelming amount of love and the need to tell him how he actually deserves every good thing ever, and if you could be an ointment to any pain he's ever felt, you would do so gladly.

"Donnie is just being Donnie, comics are meant to be read anyways right?" You hold his face, staring into his eyes. "I'm more offended you're refusing the box I thought you loved so much."

That line cracks a genuine smile, and you lean in. "There it is. It's fine, I'm hilarious I know. You can laugh."

He does laugh, after he slots his mouth with yours and savors your warmth towards him in a kiss. "You... are perfect. Have I told you that?"

"Mm," you hum, happy. "Yes." And don't ever stop.

You tap the sides of his face, garnering flushed cheeks and a series of churrs that fill your heart.

"Y/n...." He mutters through affectionate chirps. "You can do this later."

"When's later?" you say, relishing in teasing him for a moment longer.

Leo stills you, grasping your wrists. "After we eat, and after we go through the new issue," he kisses you again, making a promise. "I want to read it with you."

To that you could never say no, so you nod. "Okay. Fine. Truce! I surrender. No more more taps until then."

"Thank you.. not for that. For the gift," setting the box aside, he takes you in his arms, running his fingers through your hair.

"Anytime." You mold into him like putty, feeling grateful and content and Leo.

Even if the pizza ends up getting cold because of how long the two of you stay in the embrace, you can't say it wasn't worth it.

Raph

"Y/n, can Raph ask you somethin?"

You glance up from the book you're reading, the turtle mid-rep with the barbell he's working out with held in the air.

"Yeah, of course." you respond, seeing something was on his mind. Clear by the "Raph-chasm" as his brothers always called it.

Raph sets the weight down with ease, sitting up from the bench. "Do you think.. I'm strong?"

Your knee jerk reaction to his question is an exasperated scoff, but you backtrack immediately, feeling like Donnie for a moment before going full support mode. "Raph, come on, you already know you're super strong that its ridiculous; but that's not bad! It's amazing."

He smiles, but just barely, expression going back to a frown. You wonder what must be bothering him so much that he's questioning his own strength.

"Right. But," he exhales, like he's finally letting something off his chest. "Do ya think I'm, well, big?"

Book snapping shut, you set it aside, abandoning it at the sudden shift in tone of this conversation. Having the hindsight to realize it was an important one.

"What do you mean by that? You ask, wanting clarification instead of making assumptions. It was Raph, your patience could never run out towards him.

The snapper grumbles to himself, the regret and frustration in his eyes making your heart twist. "It's silly, I know I'm big. Just.. am I too big?"

Suspicions confirmed you jump up, going by his side. "No. You are not too big," you reach out a hand to touch his shoulder, feeling protectiveness overcome you "Where is this coming from? Did someone say something?" You'd fight them, if you had to.

"No. Nobody said nothin," he takes your hand, letting the gesture calm the storm swirling in his head. "Don't you notice how many things I can't do because of my size?"

"No," you answer. "Who cares about the things you can't do, what about all the things you can? Oh Raph.. your size isn't a detriment, you know that right?"

He looks into your calm, concerned pupils, sighing heavily. "... I do y/n. Raph tends to forget sometimes, that's all. Specially' when I slow the team down, or break something by accident, or I can't wear neat clothes or costumes like the others."

Heart breaking for him, you hold him close, trying to hug him as tightly as you're able. "I'm sorry. I don't know how to fix this, but I'll never love you any less for being who you are. Actually, it makes me love you more."

"Really?" he asks with a voice so small and an embrace so gentle you'd truly never be able to guess what he looked like if you'd never met him before.

"Really." You reply with the certainty you knew he needed. In the back of your mind however, you were thinking of ways to make his situation better.

........................

"Hey! You coming?" You peak your head into Raph's room, where he's standing over his bed, arms crossed as he looks deep in thought.

"Yeah. Be there in a sec." Tonight was the annual Lou Jitsu marathon, everyone dressing up in various versions of their idols' (and also their dads'?) signature outfits.

Raph is struggling to pick from his small collection of accessories he typically wears during such occasions.

You, with innocent intentions and a smile that seems too wide for no reason, enters to intervene. "I can always pick for you, if you want. Hm, how abouttt," you set down a bag. "This."

"What's this supposed to be?" He pokes a digit in the bag to peer inside, your furious nodding urging him on to actually see what this mysterious package is.

"Surprise!" You shout out the moment the blue and orange jumpsuit appears in his hands. Looking like it came fresh off a movie set.

"Is this..." like he almost can't believe it, Raph holds it out, amazed by the fact it actually looks like it might fit him. "Mine?

"Yes! I got it made for you!"

"You did?" you see him search for words, only able to ask. "Why?"

"Because, I know you said how it bothered you not being able to dress up with your brothers. So.. I wanted to show you that it's possible! Sure, it takes some effort, but I don't mind. I'm more than happy to do something like this for you," you never wanted his size to be an insecurity for him, because he wasn't just the "big guy" to everyone. He's the big guy with the biggest heart and humility of anyone you've known.

When tears start welling in his eyes, you can't help but get emotional yourself, letting him take you up in his arms as your feet leave the ground.

"Y/N.. you don't have to go and do stuff like this for me, but it means a lot. Thanks for makin me feel special, I really love ya," he says while almost cradling you back and forth and pressing kisses on your forehead.

"I love you too," you close your eyes, hoping this put his mind at ease, even if it's just for the night. You'd be there for any tough day after the fact.

When Raph offers an arm to you before joining the others, all dressed up and ready for the reaction he's about to get, you realize there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

[sugarbombs-n-stuff]

Companion Birthday Headcanons

Ada: June 7th, She sees her birthday as when Jackson found her, she celebrates quickly but she finds it fun nonetheless.

Cait: February 20th, She never celebrated before sole but now that she does she loves it. Definitely a chocolate kinda girl.

Curie: April 12th She was powered on for the first time on this date! All Mister Handys/Miss Nannies sing themselves a little happy birthday jingle like the mars rover. Now that she's a synth her favorite cake flavor is strawberry. She loves celebrating with everyone, think of like a 5 year olds peak birthday and that's what Curie wants. She loves being gifted anything from prewar.

Codsworth: September 30th. He was purchased before shaun was born and was powered up a bit after he popped out. He loves wearing a party hat and like Curie, sings himself a birthday jingle. He loves the festivities of birthdays.

Danse: March 15th. In the brotherhood it was a quick happy birthday and then back to his duties. He feels indifferent about his birthday until Blind Betrayal, for a few months after he refuses to even think about anything that indicates he's human but when does accept that he's a synth he appreciates his birthday. His favorite flavor of cake is German Chocolate.

Deacon: December 25th. Though no one would ever find out except for Sole, he is a Christmas baby. Anytime someone asks what his birthday is it changes every time. He will celebrate his birthday with friends once he starts trying to find the real him but for years after Barbara's death he wouldn't even acknowledge it. He enjoys a good party but also likes something simple, he doesn't expect much cause it falls on a holiday though. His favorite cake flavor jokingly is funfetti, his actual favorite is just simple yellow cake with chocolate frosting. He will heavily appreciate any gag gift or fiber art craft thing that comes his way.

Dogmeat: January 1st. No one really knows so they celebrate on New Years Day. He gets plenty of brahmin ears as gifts though.

Piper: August 18th. She celebrated plenty when her parents were still alive and Nat tries to make her a present or two and she is very grateful. She enjoys spending her b-day with Blue and everyone as well. She doesn't care for cake, so she gets cookie cake.

Preston: November 3rd. He celebrated with is family and the early minuteman but after the quincy massacre he doesn't have the time or energy. If he had a choice, he would want to spend his birthday on the river outside sanctuary with a BBQ. His favorite flavor is lemon!

Nick: Human Nick's birthday was May 23rd, Synth Nick wanted some separation from him so he celebrates his birthday on February 14th, Valentines Day. He doesn't need any gifts or a big party, he's perfectly fine with a birthday card and since he doesn't really eat anything, a nice cup of coffee.

MacCready: June 2nd. Duncan's birthday is the day after so they normally celebrate together. He likes parties and gag gifts. His favorite cake flavor is actually orange with chocolate frosting. The only way he can get said flavor however is pouring Nuka Orange and using that instead of water when baking, duncan thinks its really nasty though.

Hancock: August 28th. When they were kids his brother would always make sure his birthday was good but after he left Diamond City and started celebrating with chems and shitty beer. When the sole survivor and their merry band of misfits rolls up he starts celebrating with a big meal among friends where he tries to cut back on chems. He's happy to get any gift and his favorite cake flavor is tarberry.

x6-88: October 1st. He never celebrated his birthday until sole showed up. He appreciates getting candy, weapon mods, and pre-war toy kits where you can build your own car. He doesn't mind sitting on the beach as a bonfire is being built. He enjoys swimming and eating whatever was packed and he finds that he actually enjoys his birthday. His favorite cake flavor is coconut with red frosting.

Strong: Pre-War, Strong's birthday was November 27th. He doesn't remember now and doesn't care.

Gage: January 13th. He celebrates by putting on a record and target practice, he'd prefer a rager with plenty of chems and loud music, Afterwords, go home, eat cake, and listen to some pre-war audio drama. His favorite cake flavor is vanilla with mutfruit frosting.

Longfellow: May 16th. He doesn't celebrate cause he doesn't really care. He drinks a beer at the bar then goes fishing with Diamond City Radio playing. His favorite cake flavor is coffee cake with tarberry jam on top.