#man’s got a gob

[pixiemage]

Being a Mythical Sausage watcher is occasionally checking to make sure the video you’re watching isn’t accidentally set to a faster play speed then normal

[mokutone]

your art makes me wanna start testosterone

i can't read tone well, so this is either an incredibly touching ask, or an extremely funny one, and in the absence of confirmation: both!

i'm in a chatty mood, so i'll share some thoughts about testosterone and my art.

i liked being on testosterone a lot. i had an IM injection every two weeks (on tuesdays!) and because that's a sizeable dose every 14 days that slowly disperses, it can cause some mood fluctuations (every other friday i would have a crisis about not feeling like the world had a place for me in it) but even those were far more manageable than the ones that would come with my previous and current monthly hormone cycle (every month i spend a solid week thinking the world will never have a place for me in it)

It gave me a patchy little bit of scruff on my chin and a whispy mustache under my nose that still struggles on, despite adversity!

It redistributed my fat a little bit, but that's long since gone back to pre-T shape.

it lowered my voice! that hasn't changed :^)! even if i never go back on t, that won't change. it was the thing i most wanted, and its the one i'm most grateful for. Pre-T, I didn't speak much. I'm getting better and better at talking and getting more and more comfortable communicating with people because of it.

having been off t now for 3 years, i don't pass anymore—not as a cis man, or a cis woman, certainly not as anything approximating straight. if people look at me and see anything, i'd hazard a guess that they see me as A Queer (the noun—for all it's complicated connotations).

i'm not surprised that my art might make somebody want to start testosterone! a lot of my art was made out of the aching grief that came with being kicked off of testosterone, and how neatly that loss of autonomy over my own body knits in with yamato's loss of autonomy over his own.

how my body started doing things i disliked, how i didn't have the support necessary to access the healthcare i needed—how my inability to give myself what i needed made me feel as though i were trapped inside of myself and abandoned (by both myself and the world at large)

when i write comics about yamato as a trans man, i don't take away his testosterone, because that hits a little too close to home for me. for Ninja War Town Reasons, he has plenty of access to all the HRT he could ever need and nobody questions his need for it—instead, i project my own horrors onto the way Danzō defined his identity for him as a child, the way that Kabuto and Obito dehumanize him as an adult in their war efforts, and reduce him to the thing his body holds (the Mokuton). I give him a kneejerk compulsion to dehumanize himself (out of a feeling that he has a duty to his community to do so) and I give him a slow-growing resistance to that impulse (which comes out of a feeling that the people he loves would frown upon seeing him reduce himself like that)

it's dysphoria! it's not gender dysphoria, but it's a loss of self, and a need to reclaim it. it's a war between the hollow shell of a thing he thinks he has to be, and the vibrant and messy person beneath it that he is. it's a desperate need to say "this is who i am—only i can say it"

I enjoyed HRT a lot. it was a really useful tool in helping me feel like my body was my own, that i didn't have to fight it, that we were the same entity. It's not the only tool, but it was a really good one, and one day I hope to use it again.

(as for the being off of it—it's unpleasant, but i'm enduring! being somebody who now doesn't really pass as anything has put me in a weird and interesting position, where I'm constantly having to declare myself to people, because nobody knows what to make of me on any front. they don't know if i'm a man, a woman, nonbinary, nor even what age i am (Augh!!!!) it forces me to be brave and vulnerable more than I'm comfortable with—if I tell somebody I'm a man, there's no way that they will believe I'm cis, but I'm not about to recloset myself—and I don't think I could at this point anyway.)

(there's something fascinating about the position i find myself in, and while i'd leap back on t the moment that an opportunity presented itself to do so, i do feel like i'm experiencing something interesting and important in this weird zone i find myself in)

[mostofthingsmostofthetime]

Just finished the show a few days ago, so that's why I'm only just posting this now.

[artemis-fowled]

@quinnmorgendorffer your tags omg

instead of killing characters off at random for shock value, may i propose a hip new trend: keeping characters alive at random for shock value. by all logic, this character should be dead. there’s no possible explanation for how they continue to shuffle ‘round this mortal coil. maybe we literally saw them die onscreen back in the passe era of shock value deaths. and yet, there they are. alive before our eyeballs.

[timeisacephalopod]

Merry Christmas to me my sister called my family's reaction (for the better) to my severe mental health crisis a couple years ago "boohooing" over me. Because I guess to her it's FINE if I commit suicide and you know what, idk why I ever expected anything better out of a bitch who used to laugh about how funny it was she tried to kill me as a baby and also lost a bit of my dad's cremated ashes. But she shat the bed, I ain't ever speaking to her again because I'd NEVER forgive anyone who wasn't a sibling for saying something that fucked up about the worst time in my life including watching my father die for 4 years of cancer before he actually finally bit it. Oh, and also she accused my dad of faking his cancer so how nice of her to lose a piece of his body to rub salt in my wounds.

But fine, that's how she feels she can avoid me like the plague because if she doesn't I'll ream her ass so hard she'll be obliterated into the next millennium if she's lucky enough to land that close to present day.

[gobspeaks]

i wanna go to death mountain and do the last temple but el went to bed and it wants to be there for the experience so instead I guess I have to do anything else orz

[transurgender]

dear god

[aquasoftware]

Big dick neighbor. ୨❤︎‬୧

wc : 666/fic type: Drabble || cw : neighbor! Toji x f!reader, backshots, creampie, cheating, dirty talk, (Good girl/Doll used once), whiney! reader, Toji’s egotistical as hell, pwp, Mdni. Lmk if I missed sum + RB 2 support

Every time Toji was giving you backshots, it felt like someone was knocking the lights out of you. Blaring whimpers were echoing throughout the room as you tried your best to hold up, stumbling on all fours, your red nails nearly piercing through the sheets while taking in all thick seven inches.

He could feel your poor needy pussy tightly hugging his cock for dear life, forcing him to hold back harsh grunts, "Fuck... Toji, you're fucking me so gooddd." A dragged whine slips out of your mouth as the deafening thwapping sounds attempted to compete with your loud moans.

"Yeah? Better than how your man fucks you?" Toji smirked, chuckling to himself, raising an eyebrow deeply curious, heisting his robust leg on the bed, pounding deeper into your squelching pussy.

"Y—yes, sooo much better, Toji.." Stammering at how difficult it was to answer, especially while having your insides rearranged.

Unfortunately, your husband was never home and worked long shifts, so he could never give your cunt enough attention. Even when the two of you did have sex, it was so impossible to not yawn.

Which of course you got your neighbor to fill in that awful blank; he was doing an amazing job at it too. Your words, alongside those pretty mewls, were only feeding Toji's already rotund ego as well, causing him to form a demonic speed.

"Shit, Y/n that's what I like to hear."

His hand had an unholy grip on your braids, tugging it, faintly messing up your hair, except you couldn't care because with the way his tip deliciously kissed every single sweet spot, you were definitely close.

And your neighbor clearly knew that, the way his hips slammed back and forth into those slippery velvet walls as you began to rub your sensitive clit in tender circles, gasping when his massive hand spanked the fat of your round ass; it was almost pitiful that it stung so satisfyingly.

"Toji I'm," You paused for a moment seeking to compose yourself; unluckily for you, it was too late because your delicate pussy was spasming around what appeared to be splitting you open, provoking your sore arms to fall limp on the pearl-white sheets, where your plump lips left a bit of drool on.

"You comin'? That's a good girl." His raspy voice murmured, almost choking on his breath at the feeling of you orgasming around him.

One last striking thrust was enough to put you in a trance, making your eyes roll to the top of your skull. The only thing you could see was stars; the next thing you knew, your cunt coated Toji's dick all over the shaft was gobs of milky arousal.

"Goddd Y/n." His breathing became ragged, eyeing down the mess you made on his length only turning him on more. It wasn't long before his pace began to get sloppy balls tightening up, sensing them slap your against pussy as his heartbeat increased faster than a pendulum, on the chase for his own climax.

"Fuck, can I cum inside you, doll?" He questioned, firmly gripping the sides of your hips, before you could give him a small "Mhmm.." Eyes currently droopy from the climax you had; face smashed towards the silky grey pillows alongside your expensive makeup tainting it.

Now that he had the green light from you that he needed, a string of curses splashed out of his scarred-lips, the grip Toji had on you grew even more tense as his hips gave a final few thrusts, shooting his warm, hefty load into you.

Once he pulled out within a few seconds, out escaped mounds of cum from your used hole onto the soaked sheets, giving a light smile as if he were an artist staring at his work.

The next few minutes would be hell for you since both of you were too in the moment to hear the old wooden door creak open paired up with an appalled gasp.

8/1/24 12:19 pm masterlist.

[hanasnx]

normally clark only goes one or two rounds, not bc he can’t go longer bc he definitely CAN! he just overthinks and doesn’t want to hurt you, he likes when you ride him bc that means you can go at your own pace, not going part your limits. he forces himself to barely touch you, still scared of his own strength when it comes to you. he only ever softly praises you, and takes about an hour with aftercare. really the most sensitive and attentive man you’ve ever been with…

until he gets ‘poisoned’ by red kryptonite and he’s pushing you around, slapping you, spitting in your mouth, choking you, calling you every name under the sun. taking you anywhere and everywhere he doesn’t care if jesus himself walks in, he’ll keep going. over and over as if it’s nothing (and it IS nothing to clark). he won’t bother with aftercare and you’re left shaking like a leaf, bruises everywhere, not able to move let alone walk. and when he finally returns to normal he freaks out and beats himself up over it to the point where he can’t talk to you… but you’re like ‘soooo clark can we do that again’ *twirls hair* and he’s shocked and immediately flushes, embarrassed (but also embarrassingly hard)

you surely read the vibe anon your timing is impeccable

the first paragraph being all about how clark normally goes about things like this conveys his sense of reverence towards you. sex is still sacred to him, and he takes your safety extremely seriously. it is his top priority, above even his and your pleasure. it’s satisfying for you, yes, but there’s something to be desired. not necessarily an edge of danger, but just more of it. you want multiple rounds, you want him to touch you all over with eager and impatient hands, you want him to show some passion. and praising you is all well and good but what about switching it up every once-in-a-while?

and that’s exactly where red kryptonite clark comes in. he shows you a new clark, one he claims is “better.” no more of that sappy vulnerable clark who can’t dish it out, no. now you’re dealing with the real thing, or so he claims. he’s got the stamina for multiple rounds but he’s also got the drive, it’s not about what you want it’s about how long he wants to go for. and you’re so fucked out and physically weaker compared to him, there’s not a way for you to stop him, really. you get swept along for the ride. that bit about him “pushing you around, slapping you, spitting in your mouth, choking you, calling you every name under the sun…” is exactly the way to describe it. if you get on his nerves he simply pushes you off of him and onto the nearest surface and calls you dramatic when you land so helplessly or try to scold him. he slaps you when you give him attitude or when his dick is in your mouth because he’s that sleazy and you like it. and when he spits… it’s not just in your mouth but on your pussy and asshole too. he’s a spitter. the form of a true farmer. whole mouth gets put into it, blowing out a fat loud gob onto your clit and letting it slide down to finger you with it—held your pretty gaze doing it too. when you’re lying on your back and hanging your tongue outta your mouth, he leans down while he’s hitting it to spit right into the back of your throat, and you swallow it down like the eager little thing you are. choking you is self explanatory, it’s one of his favorite ways to bring you into a kiss, knocks you right down into that pliant sub space. and when he’s calling you names, you know he’s bringing out “bitch” and “cunt” and your pussy gets wet about it

all of this horrible behavior is something you learn to expect from clark and it gets you weak in the knees. no wonder he’s blindsided by your display of interest for it. twirling your hair and twisting your body and looking up at him with those for eyes asking for it all over again. he can’t give it to you like he used to, but he tries to bridge the gap for your sake and meet you halfway. it’s softer, a little more humanity to it, but it’s just not the same. it’s a part of clark but it’s not all of him

[libraryofolive]

candy please!

featuring: Modern AU!Husband!Suguru Geto x fem!reader

genre: fluff, drabble

word count: 1.2k

synopsis: You and your husband decided to take your twin daughters trick or treating for the first time.

part two of spooky section, my 2024 Halloween event!

Nanako and Mimiko coming into yours and Suguru’s life truly was a blessing. The two young girls had fitted into your lives so seamlessly that sometimes you couldn’t even remember what life was like without them. So, when it came to their first Halloween with the two of you, you knew you had to make it special.

The idea for your family costume came quickly and easily, straight from the girls’ current favourite TV show. Suguru had taken some convincing - “but they’re dogs,” he had protested - but one pleading look from you and his daughters had any other objections dying in his throat.

The lead up to final day of October had been full of many other Halloween traditions: you had carved pumpkins (only slightly destroying your kitchen whilst doing so), taught the twins how to bob for Apples, and even taken the girls to a corn maze. But what everyone in your household seemed most excited for was the promise of free sweets in the form of trick-or-treating.

You and Suguru were stood in front of the girls, who were sat on your kitchen island, various different colours of face paint and cheap make up strewn all over it. The two of you had yet to do your own make up, deciding it would be easier to quickly do it yourselves whilst your little rascals got themselves into their outfits. Said rascals were giddy with glee, large close-lipped grins taking up most of their face as you painted Mimiko orange and Nanako was being painted blue by your husband.

“How much candy do you think you girls will be getting tonight?” You asked the two as you gathered more orange onto your sponge.

“Millions!” Nanako squealed in reply.

“Millions? You’ll still be eating it when you’re on old granny!” You joked.

“Yeah, you’ll still be eating it when you look like Uncle Satoru.” Suguru joined.

“Is Uncle Toru really an old granny?” Mimiko asked quietly.

“Mhmm - Nana, I need you to stay really still for this bit - yeah Mimi, Satoru is really old.” You looked over at Suguru to see his tongue peeking out of his lips slightly as he coloured in the tip of Nanako’s nose with a black pencil.

“How old is he?” The currently half-orange Mimiko asked.

“96.” You responded, a sly smile gracing your lips. You would be visiting your husband’s best friend later, and couldn’t wait to see what this conversation brought.

“Wow, that is old.”

“Oh yeah, you should ask him what life was like before cars.”

“He’s older than cars?” a gob-smacked Nanako gasped.

“Oh yeah.” Suguru agreed, “he’s like, super ancient.” There was a pause, “Right, you’re all done Nana, go get your costume on. Be careful of your make-up though!” He lifted the girl off the counter, and as soon as her feet were on the ground she was sprinting off to the costume neatly hung up in her room. Mimiko was soon following her, scurrying off to complete the transformation into her favourite cartoon animal.

You and your husband sat down at the counter, picking up hand mirrors and sponges to start your own make-up for the evening.

“I still can’t believe you talked me into this.” The man next to you sighed as he rubbed blue paint into his cheeks.

“As I recall, there was no talking needed. All we had to do was unleash the puppy-dog eyes.”

“Fitting, really.” You hummed, focusing more of your energy on perfecting the brown spot over one of your eyes. “You’ve really put a lot of effort into this.”

You sighed, “I mean, I just want them to have fun. And you know I’ve always loved Halloween.”

“The amount of costume parties you’ve dragged me to since before we were together speaks volumes in that regard.”

“Exactly. I just want them to love it as much as I always have.”

“Have you seen how excited they are for this? Honey, you go so above and beyond for our girls. They love you so much. And your enthusiasm has always been infectious.”

“What do you mean?”

“Babe, Halloween was always neither here nor there for me before we met. It was mostly just Satoru using it as an excuse to eat bucket-fulls of sweets and get himself shit-scared at some crappy horror movie. Then I met you, and all of a sudden I couldn’t imagine not dressing up, or going to a party, or even carving a pumpkin.”

“Don’t you dare make me cry my make-up off.” You threatened at his heartfelt words.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He stood up, officially finished with his make-up. “I’ll go see how the girls are doing.” He kissed the top of your head as he made his way out of the kitchen.

“And get your costume on! I want photos together before we head out!”

You pulled up to Gojo’s house, his being the test-run for the girls’ trick-or-treating. You had decided to trick-or-treat around his outrageously wealthy neighbourhood, and he had even offered for you all to stay at his home afterwards (although you and Suguru theorised it was an excuse to convince your daughters to share their stash of candy with him). You got the girls out of their booster seats and walked them to the front door, explaining what they should do.

“You shout ‘trick or treat!’, okay?” The girls looked at each other and nodded, before yelling it at the top of their lungs.

“No, sweethearts, you do it after he open the door, okay? How else will he know its you?” Suguru said through chuckles. He knocked on his best friend’s house, the door swinging open rapidly.

“Candy please!” The girls exclaimed, holding out their little pumpkin baskets to Gojo. You shook your head, half sighing-half laughing, whilst Suguru let out a roar of laughter. Nanako wandered straight past Gojo, as if to go and make herself at home, Mimiko trying to drag you with her as she followed her sister.

“You’re the family from Bluey!” Gojo said excitedly, looking at all of your costumes.

“No, Nana, Mimi you can’t just go into random stranger houses-” You rushed after your daughters, ignoring the white haired man completely.

“But he’s not a stranger, he’s Uncle Toru!” Nanako yelled from the sofa, where she had made herself comfortable.

“Yeah, but we’re going to lots of people’s houses tonight, and you can’t just walk in, okay?”

“Maybe we should try that again…” Suguru suggested from the doorstep, where he was still stood with his best friend.

“Good idea. Okay, girls, come with me.” They took your hands as you led them back outside, Gojo closing the door after you.

“Remember, you say trick or treat when he opens the door, okay?” Suguru said as he knocked on the door.

“Okay!” The two kids chorused. The door swung open once again to reveal Satoru Gojo.

“Is it true you’re older than cars?”

Like this? You can find my smaus here and my drabbles and other fiics here!

Do you have a request? You can find my rules for requesting here!

[seat-safety-switch]

"Man, I've had enough of all the goddamn castles back home," complains my cousin Pressione Dell'Olio Switch, fresh off the plane from his place in Florence. At least partially as a favour to my mom, he is visiting the New Country for two weeks.

Ol' Pressy, as nobody calls him, is a famous architect in Italy. They ask him all the time to refinish churches, or build community centres, or clean up a public stables as part of his court-ordered service. He hates all of that shit. I asked him once why he got into the business, if he doesn't like working on those types of buildings.

"I want to work on rooftop race tracks only," he spat, before doing a double downshift and sending my piece of shit Volare into a frankly remarkable high-speed corner entry, during which it crossed the centre line twice and began to glow with an otherworldly fire of pure driving intensity.

This is an understandable career goal. Yet, rooftop racetracks are famously a Turin thing, like on the Fiat factory, where they only occasionally eject a tiny Italian shitbox into the streets below. Why did you think you could pull that shit off in Florence, the home town of Galileo, the guy who specifically proved that the entire universe is basically just a really shitty circle track course in the hick end of the galaxy?

He didn't answer. Sure, Pressione was focused on outrunning the cops at the time, but I know the foibles of my family. No doubt he figured out that he could have simply passed it off as a "lost da Vinci drawing" and then gotten a gob of money from cocaine-addled tourists from Florida to replace the top floor of the Duomo di Firenze with a bandit-racing course. Such a plan is folly, of course: anyone with any sense knows that the best place to put a race track is straight through the middle of the nearest conservatory. Who needs to hear flutes playing when they could listen to R-compound sidewalls screaming for dear life?

[hyperfixationstati0n]

Sejanus who holds your hand when you walk through crowded areas because he doesn't want you to get lost (and definitely not because he gets nervous being in the middle of a lot of people).

Sejanus who, even though he can and will spend gobs of money on you, prefers to take you on smaller dates. Lesser known restaurants, the library, a picnic in the park. He likes having more private time rather than showing off.

Sejanus who ALSO considers napping a date. This man lives off of cuddling you. He will invite you over just to hold you in bed, listen to music, and take a nap. Preferably with his head on your chest but he's not that picky.

Sejanus who tries to recreate one of his Ma's recipes with you. He has the cute little apron on and everything, trying to read the recipe for cookies she left out for him. But it just ends in both of you and the kitchen, covered in flour and half-decent cookies. And he is actually a really good baker like Ma but just got really distracted because you were there.

Sejanus who if you have a hobby like music or art of any kind, will vehemently take interest in it as well. Or if it's a certain book, he just wants to talk about it with you because he knows it makes you happy to be able to ramble to him.

Sejanus who does end up becoming a medic and living his life out with you in peace because that's actually what happened and Suzanne just made a little error when writing it.

[theygotlost]

good afternoon here's my big rant on my pet peeves for subtitles in movies and tv

This is a post that I’ve thought about making probably for years now but never got around to. I might add more later if I realize I’ve forgotten any

When it comes down to it, the purpose of subtitles is this: to reflect exactly what the audience can hear, precisely when it can be heard. If you fail to do this, your subtitles are bad and you should feel bad. Although I don’t have concrete examples for most of these off the top of my head, I promise I have experienced them all firsthand at least once.

-> Watch for spelling and typos. Obviously.

-> Syncing issues.

This should go without saying, but the captions should be synced as closely as possible with dialogue and sound effects. Subtitles that are out of sync are worse to me than no subtitles at all. They’re unbearably distracting and I have to turn them off. I’m fortunate enough that I can keep watching without them, so imagine how frustrating this is for someone who needs to keep them on no matter what.

-> Jumping the gun.

This is basically an example of out-of-sync subtitles that are slightly too fast, but it gets its own category because it ruins the viewing experience in its own unique way. In particularly dramatic scenes, actors will often draw out their lines or pause between phrases. Captions sometimes fail to reflect this by displaying the entire sentence all at once, allowing the audience to read what someone is about to say before they actually say it, which deflates all the dramatic tension of the scene.

-> Phantom captions.

This one is less self explanatory, but it’s kind of similar to syncing. Sometimes there will be significant intervals of time between lines of dialogue, especially after a scene ends and a new one begins. The interval may include music, sound effects, or complete silence, but what I’m calling a “phantom” is a caption that stays on the screen after that last line of dialogue is delivered until the next line is spoken. I don’t remember what I was watching, but there was one that was glued to the screen for SEVERAL MINUTES over what was supposed to be an atmospheric break between scenes and it drove me nuts. In my experience this happens more often with older subtitling for DVDs and some old videos and less with modern streaming. 

-> Straight up spoilers.

Sometimes, a character will speak whose true identity has not yet been revealed to the audience. If I’m not supposed to know the character’s name yet, don’t just… tell me right there in the captions whenever they say something. Descriptors like “disembodied voice”, “man”/”woman”, “mysterious figure”, etc. will suffice.

-> Lack of musical descriptors.

It usually helps to describe the genre or emotion of the music that’s playing rather than just writing [music] or 🎵. That being said, if there is a song playing that’s particularly well known in the mainstream, I think it’s useful to actually include the name of the song. This one I do have a concrete example for: in Arrested Development, Gob always blasts The Final Countdown during his acts. But the captions on my DVDs for the show always describe it as [stagy pop]. Like yeah I would say that song is some pretty stagy pop, but I think a lot of the humor comes from knowing that it’s specifically The Final Countdown by Europe because it’s such a perfectly corny selection that Gob would make.

Another musical failure is not transcribing pertinent lyrics. If the song is playing in the background, then that’s understandable and it can be kind of distracting if there’s dialog happening on top of it because the audience isn’t actually meant to be paying close attention to the song. But if the song is front and center, like for a musical number or montage, then the lyrics can be pretty important. Last year when I watched Arcane on Netflix with my family (a recent, high budget production from the biggest streaming platform ever), the show had the nerve to write [man rapping] over a musical sequence. Imagine if all subtitles ever just said [person speaking] for the entire movie.

-> Affectations.

If a character starts using a silly voice or accent, or if the sound of their voice changes in any way, describe that. If the audience can hear the difference, the subtitles should reflect that difference. And they should reflect it informatively and accurately; for example, don’t just say [mock accent], but specify [mock French accent]. 

-> Paraphrasing.

I don’t even know why this is an issue, but it’s alarming how many times the subtitles just… straight up don’t match what the characters are actually saying. It’s like the transcriber was forced to write all the captions from memory, so they kinda sorta say the same thing, but the wording is different and some sentences or phrases are missing. When I brought this up with my mom she theorized that the transcriber was working off the script for the movie because hey, that’s all the dialogue already written down, right? But it completely fails to account for revisions, improvisation, or actors delivering their lines even slightly different than how they were originally written.

And last but certainly not least, one of the biggest offenders in bad subtitling…

-> [Speaks foreign language]

If someone says something in another language, please, for the love of god, do not just write [speaks foreign language]  and call it a day. Specifying the actual language is an improvement, but this descriptor only works if the audience members are truly not meant to know what’s being said (which is sometimes the case). If a character is only saying a single word or phrase in another language, transcribe it. As in, write down the actual words that they said. If you don’t speak that language, find someone who does. You are insane for transcribing a character saying “hola” or “abuela” in an otherwise English sentence as [speaks Spanish] (real examples I saw respectively in Rango and JANE THE VIRGIN. THERE’S SO MUCH SPANISH IN THAT SHOW). 

If the audience is supposed to know what someone is saying in another language, English subtitles will usually be hardcoded. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, LET THE CAPTION SAYING [SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE] COVER THESE UP. This is actively impeding understanding, not helping it. Jesus christ

* Please keep in mind that I’m not deaf or hard of hearing and I don’t have auditory processing disorder; I almost always watch movies and tv with subtitles whenever the option is available because it helps me absorb information better. If I don’t even strictly NEED subtitles and these are issues for me, I can only imagine how much more difficult it is for those who rely on them more heavily. I invite you to add your own perspective!!

[princesslexa444]

Part 1 of ???

Summary: You work at a new tennis club where Art Donaldson and Tashi Duncan have secret plans for you. Meanwhile, Patrick Zweig, has already direct move on you from day one. You're caught between the 3 of them before you know their history.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, extreme smut, degradation, rough bj, ass eating, etc.

Side notes: Not canon compliant, takes place when Tashi/Art/Patrick are in their 30s and reader is in her 20s.

You sat in the chair behind the receptionist’s desk at the new tennis club. Although you’d only been working here for a month, so had everyone else; the club had just opened. The courts were state-of-the-art, and many important people began coming here, including Art Donaldson and Tashi Duncan.

They came early almost every day, except when Art had a match. It was clear she was in charge, always leading him around. When they left, he always looked dejected. She often looked mad at him, and you hated to admit that you liked it, secretly wishing she’d get mad at you too.

It took exactly one month for Art to start talking to you, beyond the usual hello when they came in. Now, he always had some excuse to flirt, like needing a towel or asking about the schedule.

Of course, Tashi noticed. She probably saw him watching you before he even realized himself. But what you didn’t know was that she wanted you too. She thought he could use someone like you, someone younger and eager and not like her; it might make him better at tennis. And perhaps, she just needed to use you to blow off some steam.

Tashi devised a plan to draw you into their orbit. She began compliment you every time she came in, which always made you nervous. She was beautiful, and her husband was really attractive too. You noticed a glint of jealousy in his eyes whenever she praised you, prompting him to up his own game, unaware that Tashi had orchestrated the whole thing.

One morning, Art had lingered at your desk, striking up a casual conversation about a tennis match he had recently watched. He mentioned they were hosting a small gathering at their place that weekend and insisted you joined them. Tashi, who had come to find him, chimed in with agreement, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Flattered and curious, you agreed to come over.

Little did they know, the man they deliberately avoided at the tennis club-adjusting their schedule to avoid overlapping with his, even resorting to bribing you for information on his court reservations-had already had his hooks in you from the day the club opened.

Patrick Zweig had a different style than Art and Tashi. While Tashi was more calculated, taking her time to make her moves, and Art appeared nervous but likely had a hidden strategy, Patrick was fast and direct. On the day the club opened, he wasted no time in making his intentions known. Coming close to you, he reached across the desk to grab your hand and compliment your nails, asking for your number right then and there. You couldn’t help but say yes. How could you refuse, especially when he looked at you like that, with sweat glistening, only adding to his appeal. There was something about his rawness that drew you in.

He came to your apartment that night, and it only took 20 minutes until you were on your knees, tits out, taking his thick cock into your mouth. His head dropped back while your head bobbed up and down. He got around a lot, typically hopping from tinder date to tinder date to get a free place for the night, but he still hadn’t had anyone sucking on him with so much vigor in a long time. You were practically choking yourself on it, tears streaming down your face while he looked down at you slack-jawed.

After a few minutes you pulled off, prompting a “W-what are you-,” from Patrick that was immediately silenced when you took his balls into your mouth, moving them around with your tongue. You could tell he showered right before this, which you appreciated, but would like to experience him after he practices one day.

The gobs of spit flowed out of your mouth, getting all over your face as you nuzzled yourself into his sack. You moved back up to his cock, taking it in your hand and slapping yourself in the face with it. He grunted with approval, the spit strung out in between slaps, you went insane for it, slapping it on your tongue while you looked at him with wide eyes.

He can barely take it anymore, watching you do all the work to defile yourself on him. He takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you off, bending down to your level, whispering in your ear, “Use your words, what do you want me to do?”

You catch your breath, “Take control, Patrick, use my mouth, make me cry, be mean, hit me, spit on me, please.” You meant it all, wanted him to use you however he saw fit, wanted to be the perfect girl for him.

“Get the fuck back on my dick then,” he shoves your head down, holding it in place. He jerks in and out of your mouth, you feel the tip hit the back of your throat over and over. Your tears coated your face, spit pooling around the sides of your mouth. The gagging sounds echoed in your bedroom, it was disgusting. Patrick loved it.

Once he pulled you off for a break, you start to move your mouth further down, shifting your body under his legs, and pulling your mouth away for a second, “Can I-,” before you can finish, he eagerly interrupts with, “Yes, yes please, baby, oh my god.” He loses himself when you put your lips on his puckered hole, licking up the earthy taste, reaching around to jerk his cock at the same time.

“We haven’t even- fuck- we haven’t even kissed yet and you’re already making out with my ass, huh, dirty girl.” He says between moans. You let out a whimper at his words, your wetness pooling in your underwear. “You know, when I complimented your nails today it was because I was- fuck- picturing them wrapped around my cock.” You hum in agreement, pumping his slick cock faster, sending another jolt through his body.

He wondered where you’d been all his life, he thought maybe a girl 10 years younger than him eating his ass could help him finally forget about Tashi and Art. It wouldn’t, but he could try.

[anonymousewrites]

Pearl of the Sea Chapter Six

Found Family! PoTC Cast x Teen! Reader

Platonic! Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow, Tia Dalma x Reader

Chapter Six: Outrunning the Pearl

Summary: Elizabeth, Will, and (Y/N) try to escape, and Elizabeth and Will see a new side of (Y/N).

            “You keep looking behind us,” said Elizabeth, glancing at (Y/N) worriedly. “I would have thought you would be watching the ocean go by at the front.”

            She had recognized for years (Y/N)’s fascination with the sea, so, while they were sailing, she anticipated their eyes would be trained on the water. Instead, they were looking at the clouds and fog behind them.

            “The wind’s changed,” murmured (Y/N).

            “What?” said Elizabeth.

            (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed as a dark shape emerged from the clouds. They turned and shouted at Gibbs and the crew. “The Black Pearl is here!”

            Instantly, the pirates were running to let down all the sails catch as much wind as possible.

            “Bloody ship is gaining on us!” cursed Anamaria, standing at command at the helm.

            Elizabeth looked behind them in astonishment. “But this is the fastest ship in the Caribbean!”

            “Obviously not,” said (Y/N).

            Elizabeth grimaced and looked at Anamaria. “We’re shallower in the draft, right?”

            “Aye,” said Anamaria.

            Elizabeth gestured to the starboard side. “Can’t we lose them amongst those shoals?”

            “We don’t have to outrun them long, just long enough,” said Gibbs.

            “It’s the only plan we’ve got,” said (Y/N), looking at Anamaria. Even if it wouldn’t work, (Y/N) would rather fight than just wait to be caught.

            She nodded sharply. “Lighten the ship, stem to stern! Anything we can afford to lose, see that it’s lost!”

            The crew of the Interceptor hurried to throw barrels overboard, trying fruitlessly to outrun the Black Pearl as it gained.

            “Don’t throw the cannonballs!” snapped (Y/N) as someone nearly threw one over. They stood on the side of the ship and held the ropes as they watched the Black Pearl. “We’re going to need those.” The ship was drawing closer.

            Anamaria grimaced and looked at Elizabeth. “It was a good plan, up until now.”

            “Gibbs. We have to make a stand,” said Will. “We must fight.”

            “How?” said Anamaria.

            “With anything we have left,” said (Y/N), stepping forward. “Do you want to sit here and wait for Barbossa or do we want to be taken fighting? I don’t intend to be a coward.”

            Elizabeth, Will, Gibbs, and Anamaria stared at the teenager glaring at them all, and Will was once again struck by the look in their eyes, as wild as it was when they gazed at the sea, now focused and ferocious.

            “You heard them!” snapped Anamaria.

            The pirates jumped to it, firing cannons towards the Black Pearl. They struck, but the ship kept coming. If (Y/N) had to guess, the curse extended to the ship, too.

            “The Pearl’s gonna luff up on our port quarter!” alerted Gibbs. “She’ll rake us without presenting a target.”

            “Lower the anchor on the right side,” said Elizabeth. “On the starboard side!”

            “It certainly has the element of surprise,” said Will, nodding to Gibbs and Anamaria.

            “You’re all daft!” said Anamaria, wondering who the hell Jack had gotten involved with—a crazy man, woman, and teenager all on the same ship.

            “Daft like Jack,” said Gibbs, grinning. He turned to the crew. “Lower the starboard anchor! Do it, you gobs, or it’s you we’ll load into the cannons!” That got them moving.

            The anchor dropped into the ocean, and everyone on board tensed. The anchor hit a shoal, and the Interceptor jerked to a halt. The entire thing tipped to the side, and the ship swung around as the crew braced and tried not to slide with it.

            “Let go of the helm!” shouted (Y/N), holding onto a rope.

            Anamaria let go and allowed the ship to turn as it wanted, free of human control. The waves and momentum carried them around to face the Black Pearl. They were extremely close now. They couldn’t outrun the Black Pearl, so here they were, fighting. Both ships were ready with cannons and jeering at one another.

            “Now!” shouted (Y/N).

            “Fire!” ordered Barbossa.

            “Fire all!” cried Elizabeth.

            “Go!” commanded Will.

            Boom! Boom! Boom!

            Cannons exploded between the ships. Each metal ball landed in the hull of the other ship, blowing a large hole. (Y/N) watched until Elizabeth and Will pulled them back to stay away from the side being broken open.

            “We could use a few more ideas!” shouted Gibbs over the booms of the cannons. “Lass, laddie?!”

            “Make your own!” said Elizabeth.

            “We really should have made sure we had proper cannonballs before we sailed here!” said (Y/N).

            Anamaria narrowed her eyes and grabbed Elizabeth roughly. She pulled her pistol. “We can give them her.”

            (Y/N) lunged, but Will pulled them back. “She’s not who they’re after,” he said, swallowing as he came to a realization.

            Elizabeth looked down at her empty neck. “The medallion,” she breathed.

            “Will, don’t—” (Y/N) grabbed for him, but he ran away. “Will!”

            He dropped into the hull of the ship as it flooded. He needed to find the medallion, now.

            However, while he searched, the Black Pearl crew continued to fire. One cannonball hit the mast of the Interceptor, and it fell to the deck below. Elizabeth covered them as the wood fell and debris rained down on them.

            Barbossa grinned as the ship was crippled. “Pistols and cutlasses, men!” he ordered. “Koehler, Twigg, to the powder magazine!” It was time to board the Interceptor. “And the rest of you, bring me the medallion!”

            Grappling hooks swung onto the Interceptor, and the crew of the Black Pearl climbed over. Elizabeth grabbed a rifle and fired. (Y/N) picked up a fallen pistol and shot towards the pirates.

            Bang!

            The man jerked and fell into the water below.

            (Y/N) paused and waited for shock and disgust to settle in at their actions. Yes, the curse would let him survive, but his body was tumbling to the depths of the ocean, never to be seen again. That was as good as dead. However, (Y/N) felt nothing. They had fought on instinct to protect the ship, Elizabeth, Will, and themself. They felt like fighting.

            (Y/N) gripped the pistol tighter. There was no time for hesitation. These were bad men hoping to do bad things. (Y/N) wouldn’t force themself to feel guilty for acting on instinct.

            Bang!

            They shot again, side-by-side with Elizabeth as men crowded the ship. Unfortunately, the Interceptor crew was being overrun. The Black Pearl’s crew couldn’t die, and the pirates were swarming around.

            “Jack!” Gibbs exclaimed in surprise as Jack appeared, swinging across.

            (Y/N) looked over in surprise, but they were a bit busy fighting with Elizabeth against pirates, so they didn’t have time to pay attention to what he was up to. Several pirates grabbed at them and Elizabeth. (Y/N) kicked at them while Elizabeth rammed her empty rifle into them. Letting out an indignant and slightly fearful cry, (Y/N) thrashed against the pirate. A punch hit the pirate, who fell back. (Y/N) fell to the ground where two arms caught them and hauled them to their feet.

            Jack tutted and looked at the dazed pirate. “That’s not very nice.”

            (Y/N) slammed their foot into the pirate’s stomach, and he fell backwards into the ocean.

            “(Y/N)!” said Elizabeth, grabbing (Y/N) protectively as she spotted Jack. She narrowed her eyes. “You! Wretch,” she hissed.

            Jack looked at her bare neck. “Where’s the medallion?”

            (Y/N) and Elizabeth looked at each other.

            “Ah.” Jack saw the glance. “Where is dear William?”

            “Will,” said Elizabeth, looking back at the now-blocked entryway to belowdecks. She ran to a grate where hands were reaching out from below. “Will!” He was stuck below.

            “Elizabeth! (Y/N)!” shouted Will.

            While Jack noticed the monkey with the medallion, (Y/N) ran to help Will, not caring about whatever Jack was getting up to. Elizabeth and (Y/N) tried to push the debris from the grate.

            But then hands grabbed them. Elizabeth cried out, and (Y/N) thrashed against the pirates dragging them back.

            “Elizabeth! (Y/N)!” cried Will in worry.

            The pirates of the Black Pearl dragged the remaining crew of the Interceptor to the Black Pearl. (Y/N) fought against them, but they were roughly shoved back and hit the wooden deck hard.

            “Gents!” Everyone looked up at Barbossa as he loomed over Jack and stood with the monkey on his shoulder. “Our hope is restored!” He held the medallion over his head. The pirates cheered wildly.

            (Y/N)’s hope plummeted, and they looked at the Interceptor. Will was still there, in danger, drowning. (Y/N) couldn’t stand that, they wanted to help him, but they were stuck because of Barbossa and his men.

            Ragetti and Pintel had been assigned to watch the captives, and they circled the group with sneers. Pintel held his pistol tightly and glared.

            “Any of you so much as thinks the word ‘parley,’ I’ll have your guts for garters!” he growled.

            Boom!

            The Interceptor exploded from the gunpowder the Black Pearl had left there. Elizabeth gasped, and (Y/N)’s eyes widened.

            Will!

            “You godless pirate!” shouted Elizabeth, running at Barbossa.

            He grabbed her before she could hurt him. “Welcome back, miss. You took advantage of our hospitality last time. That was mighty rude of you.”

            “Let her go!” shouted (Y/N).

            Barbossa turned to look at the furious teenager, the only one who had been willing to speak up against him.

            “And who might you be?” sneered Barbossa.

            (Y/N) flinched back, but before Barbossa could take another step, a shout cut through the air.

            “Barbossa!” Soaking wet, Will stood by the side of the ship and held onto a rope.

            “Will,” breathed Elizabeth in relief.

            Will held up a pistol and jumped onto the deck. “She and the child go free!” he demanded. He was instantly negotiating to protect the people he cared about.

            “What’s in your head, boy?” sneered Barbossa, walking towards Will.

            “They go free,” repeated Will.

            Barbossa scoffed. “You’ve only got one shot, and we can’t die.”

            “Don’t do anything stupid,” groaned Jack pleadingly.

            Will leapt onto the edge of the ship and held the pistol to his own head. “You can’t. I can.”

            “Like that…” sighed Jack.

            “Who are you?” said Barbossa, frowning.

            “No one. He’s no one,” said Jack. “A distant relative of my aunt’s nephew, twice removed. Lovely singing voice, though. Eunuch.”

            I’m confused, does he want to use Will’s identity or not? (Y/N) was really wondering what Jack was doing. Maybe he wanted to use it to his own advantage and couldn’t do that if Will revealed it. That was the most likely.

            “My name is William Turner!” announced Will, shredding any last semblance of anonymity. “My father was Bootstrap Bill Turner. His blood runs in my veins.”

            “He’s the spitting image of ol’ Bootstrap Bill, come back to haunt us!” said Ragetti.

            “On my word, do as I say, or I’ll pull this trigger and be lost to Davy Jones’s locker!” said Will.

            “Name your terms, Mr. Turner,” said Barbossa sullenly.

            “(Y/N) and Elizabeth go free,” said Will.

            “Yes, we know that one. Anything else?” said Barbossa, rolling his eyes.

            Jack gestured to himself.

            “And the crew. The crew are not to be harmed,” said Will.

            That’s Will, always trying to do the right thing, thought (Y/N).

            “Agreed!” spat Barbossa.

            (Y/N) knew in their heart that Barbossa was going to fuck them over in some way.

l

            Sure enough, as soon as they had found themselves near shoals once more, Barbossa men had grabbed (Y/N) and pulled them towards the plank. They thrashed against the men, but they were shoved towards the edge, and sharpened cutlasses prevented them from going back as they fought to keep their balance.

            “Stop it! Let them go!” cried Elizabeth.

            “Don’t worry, poppet, your turn is next,” said Barbossa.

            “Barbossa, you lying bastard!” shouted Will, trying to run forward. Pirates held him back. “You swore they’d go free!”

            “Don’t dare impugn me honor, boy!” snapped Barbossa. “I agreed they’d go free, but it was you who failed to specify when or where!”

            Will was gagged and pushed back to the other crewmembers.

            “Now, I would apologize, laddie, but if you follow pirates around, you gotta reap the consequences,” said Barbossa to (Y/N).

            “I hope your curse gets broken so someone can shoot you,” spat (Y/N).

            Barbossa let out a barking laugh. “Look at that, the civilized one has a tongue! A pity we’ll never hear it again.”

            Cutlasses poked towards (Y/N), and they backed up farther. They narrowed their eyes and glared at Barbossa. If they somehow survived this, they were going to make sure no one tricked them again. (Y/N) would not be a defenseless child.

            They turned and faced the sea. They took a deep breath. They jumped.

            (Y/N) fell below the waves, and as the water drowned the sounds of the pirates above, (Y/N) could close their eyes and push out all their fears and troubles before they faced their oncoming death. For just a second, (Y/N) floated, at peace.

Taglist:

@slytherinroyalty16

@aew-kun-age-regression

@grippleback-galaxy

@andsoigotabutterfly

@insomniacneedssleep

@painstakingly-juno

@kitkatlover015

@chronicallybubbly

@froggyisfriend

@elliottheidiot2007

@paastaboi

@urlocalsabito

@speckle-meow-meow

@dmitrytherat

@vanessa-boo

@ohimjustagirlidrathetnotbe

[b-yeonder]

Bringing Them Breakfast In Bed (Brothers + Undateables)

↬  Genre/Content Warnings: Fluff. Someone gets a boner.

LUCIFER:

When you walk in balancing the breakfast tray Lucifer is already sat up in bed checking his D.D.D for any important news from RAD, but his attention is quickly diverted to you. The spread you offer him? Buttered toast, two different types of jam in cute little decorative jars, a full wine glass, and a cup of tea.

"Wine in the morning? What do you take me for," he chuckles putting his phone down. Grinning you tell him that it's just grape juice to which he laughs and accepts the tray from you with a sincere thank you. Finds it incredibly endearing and can't stop smiling - calls you his good girl/boy with a wink. Will definitely put him in a good mood for the rest of the day.

MAMMON:

"For me? All of it? Really?"

Yup! He's flabbergasted, blinking stupidly with his mouth hanging open as his cheeks redden before eventually catching himself and clearing his throat, putting on his usual bravado.

"Well damn, I definitely deserve this huh, being the Great Mammon after all!" Cheeks are still red despite his demeanor change. Takes the tray and starts tucking in with gusto.

"Ya gonna help me with this right? Here, I'll feed ya a pancake look--"

He does, insisting on feeding it to you by hand and is a happy bubbly fella all morning. Why? Because his human pampered him and he feels s p e c i a l. (Because he is, of course.)

LEVIATHAN:

Shakes off his tiredness in an instant when he realises what you're handing him.

"Is this that Limited Edition Ruri-chan cereal!? WHOOOAAH!"

A million thank yous before he takes a million pictures to post on his social media (probably with cute captions like "I have the best gf/bf lololololol") and is loathe to eat it but it looks so good and ohhh man he's caved already and it IS good. You can't help but laugh at him as he eats it with his eyes closed, humming happily.

"I can't believe you got these. Just for me? Really? Like, the whole box, you don't want any at all?" Blushes reaaal hard once it dawns on him how difficult it must have been for you to get and that you made all the effort for him and him only.

"What if I feed you a spoonful? They're really good." Blushy blush, hide behind that fringe cutie pie.

SATAN:

"Ohh well well well, what have we here?" A smirk as you hand him his tray. Freezes when he sees what's on his plate and his cheeks redden quickly. You can't help but grin as he just stares. Cat pancakes. Cat-head shaped pancakes with syrupy faces.

"You okay there?"

"I....they're..." He clears his throat and blinks up at you.

"Cute right?" Your grin widens as he nods.

"I don't know if I can eat them..." At his mumbled confession you laugh and plop next to him on the bed, offering to feed them to him which has him blushing more. What can I say, sleepy morning bedhead Satan is easily flustered.

ASMODEUS:

"Oh darling this is amazing! But really all you had to do was show up nude and that would have been all the breakfast I need--"

"ASMO!"

He giggles and licks his lips at the delicious looking spread laid before him. "G A S P, is this GLITTERY JAM!?"

"Yes! Isn't it cool?"

Squeals and tucks in, rolling his eyes in his head. "Oh my gosh it tastes as good as it looks. This would make a good lipstick colour, we should go looking for one later." Uses it as an opportunity to gossip and get a few little flirtatious moves in before the day has even started. Dabbing jam on your nose just to lick it off making you snort with laughter and shove him away. 

BEELZEBUB:

Presented with a full English breakfast, a giant stack of pancakes, and orange juice - his eyes are the size of saucers as his pupils flick from the food to you.

"What's wrong, handsome?"

"I'm trying to decide what I want to eat more right now - the food or you." Because yes the poor sausage is overwhelmed and gets hard with excitement over all the deliciousness before him. Ends up shoving some egg in his gob followed by a pancake and half of the orange juice before pouncing on you. "Lemme love you!"

"BEEEL-!" He's grinning and smothering you with breakfasty smooches leaving you a giggling mess.

(Would want to finish his breakfast with you wrapped in his arms after because hugs and food are the best.)

BELPHEGOR:

"I've never seen you eat breakfast so I didn't know what to make you therefore I am serving myself," you say, gesturing to yourself with a flourish.

"Perfect." Instantly grabs you and starts biting and gnawing at you making you erupt in a fit of giggles and try to push him off. "Mmmm human, so delicious!" Keeps going, pinning you down and climbing on top.

"BELPHIE STOP THAT TICKLES." Evil grin plastered on his face, eventually ends the antics with a kiss on your nose. Then bites it.

"Just for future reference though, I love a good omelette. Make me one of those and I'm yours forever."

"You're not already mine forever?"

"No, you suck, make me an omelette." Collapses on top of you so you can't go and make one even if he wasn't just winding you up. 

DIAVOLO:

Has a massive grin on his face the moment you set foot in his room, getting even bigger when he sees you've brought food. You serve it professionally, pretending to be Barbatos and making him laugh. 

"Your breakfast, young Master."

"Ooo, my birthday must have come early? OH! Is that...a foam Cerberus in my coffee!?"

Devours everything eagerly, insisting on sharing with you no matter how much you protest. 

"Come now, you deserve to taste the fruit of your labours. It's wonderful!" Like a big kid, smothers you with kisses when he's done. "I'll have to think of a proper way to repay you..."

BARBATOS:

Completely taken by surprise - it was usually him that was serving meals after all and here you were up at an even earlier hour than him handing him a breakfast tray? Doesn't know what to say at first, eyes roaming over the food you'd prepared for him until he spots the little flower-shaped strawberries you'd cut for him - something he'd done for you once to cheer you up when you were sick. 

"Seeee," you say with a playful nudge as you settle next to him. "I've been learning."

"You have...this looks wonderful, thank you." He leans over to press a delicate kiss to your lips and you mumble a quiet you're welcome against them. The two of you share a rare moment of solitude chatting idly and enjoying each others' company before another busy day at the Palace begins.

SOLOMON:

Eyes you and the food warily. "You trying to poison me again?"

"Dude it was just gone-off milk it wouldn't have killed you. Also that was a whole year ago why are you still holding that against me?"

"Yeah well..." Sniffs it just to be sure then flashes you a playful smile. "I'm just messing. This looks really good - thanks."

Halfway through tucking in: "Y'know I'd offer to return the favour but you'd probably die so I won't bother."

"Yeah please don't," you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. 

"Although....what if you were my breakfast next time? Worth a thought," he mused, tapping his spoon against his bottom lip as you rolled your eyes.

SIMEON:

Oh...this is awkward...

You both are bearing breakfast trays intended for the other, and you both burst into laughter before making your way to his room where you swap trays and tuck in. 

"I can't believe this..."

"We're too in tune with each other," Simeon smiles, sipping at his tea. 

"Yeah, I guess we are." The food was delicious - heavenly even and you found yourself closing your eyes from pleasure while eating it. "This is amazing, Sims."

"Glad you like it," he replied with a grin. "You've made these eggs perfectly."

"I'll have to make them for you more often."

"I'd like that a lot."

Simeon definitely tries feeding you at one point, laughing sweetly at your eagerness to take it from him.

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