#michelin men

[publicdomaincharacters]

Here Is a public Domain cryptid,Michelin Men or Balloon Men they were given the name Michelin Men due to them being look like Michelin's mascot Michelin man

[snootyfoxfashion]

Bram Stoker's Dracula Collection by La Femme En Noir

[batsplat]

How well is Marc actually doing on the GP23 cause I know he’s ahead by a lot to the other GP23s and no disrespect to them but I feel like they aren’t a good comparison because Marc is just better and has a lot more experience so how do you judge how well his season actually is would it be by adaptability or by looking at how good Martin and Pecco were on the bikes last year or by an entirely different criteria cause he does do well to keep up with the GP24s it’s really impressive. And Aragon and Misano did showcase how amazing he is in tricky conditions kind of like Sachsenring 2021.

y'know, in motorsports you can never know these things with any certainty. there's just too many confounding variables. like we know the gp23 is worse than the gp24, we can be reasonably confident it's a bigger gap between specs than in years past... but beyond that? it's not as much worse as bez is making it look, for instance. sometimes it really just comes down to how a rider adapts to a specific bike, whether they're being hindered by any pesky changes to the tyres, that sort of thing... but it is a problem, because bez was kinda supposed to be our benchmark going into this year. right now, marc doesn't have a great benchmark. again, we know he's adapted well, we know he's doing a 'really good' job, but obviously that's all pretty vague. you also can't compare what he's doing right now to what jorge/pecco were doing last year on the gp23... I've seen some people compare lap times between seasons, which, no!! don't do that! the reason why EVERYONE'S lap times have gone down by so much is because michelin have introduced a new rear tyre. it is a completely meaningless comparison. keep it away from me

so, yeah, we don't really know. I'm interested in misano next time out and the flyaways to get a sense of what marc's performance is right now in a 'normal' weekend. like, those two wins were undoubtedly impressive, but also they don't tell me anything I didn't already know. he's very good at anti-clockwise circuits! specifically sachsenring, cota and to a slightly lesser degree aragon... the margin he had over the field was exaggerated by track conditions all weekend, which were of the slippery low grip kind he's always been incredibly strong at, but this was always marquez territory. he also took full advantage of the brief rain at misano to do his thing - and he kept up a very impressive pace when it was drying out, though we were perhaps denied a more extended battle by pecco's physical condition and championship considerations. as marc said, he didn't have anything to lose in that race. but y'know, again this is all in line with expectations. during the summer break I did kinda think that marc's best chances of winning this year were a) aragon and possibly phillip island, or b) a gross ever-so-slightly wet race. his pace in austria was also strong, albeit half a step behind the two gp24 frontrunners - which is what you'd probably expect with the machinery deficit. it's obviously important that he's gotten back into a winning habit again, maybe ironed out a few of the gremlins in the gresini set-up. everything he needs to finish the season strong and come out firing next year

the one slight question mark I still have is the whole qualifying situation. he currently leads his teammate h2h 8-5 which... well, given the kind of disgusting beatdowns of gifted qualifier dani pedrosa he used to deliver,, it does raise an eyebrow. I'm perfectly open to the argument that this is all just about adaptation, about being unfamiliar with the circuits on a ducati, circumstantial factors and a string of bad luck... but, well. just something to keep an eye on. he did need a slice of good fortune in misano - otherwise you just wouldn't be in victory contention at that track from ninth. that's a problem! prime!marc would go entire seasons without qualifying lower than sixth; I know he has a reputation for being a crasher, but back in the day he was able to walk that fine line extremely well to give himself the lap he needed in qualifying without binning it. maybe it's a question of the margin for error still not being quite there at the moment (outside of aragon, obviously), maybe it's something about the risk/reward calculation... who knows. maybe he'll be closer to prime!marc again in qualifying in 2025. but obviously it's worth mentioning in this discussion; by every other metric, marc is completely brutalising the other gp23's

let's quickly compare average grid positions of marc versus his teammate throughout his premier class career

(btw, updating this made me see that marc's average grid position is still the third best on the grid, which.... I mean it's a gulf to second... but given how much I've been bullying him for his qualifying, this makes me deeply unimpressed by what certain other riders have been doing this season)

anyway, look, no cause for alarm, not got a terminal case of being washed quite yet. qualifying can sometimes be the thing that declines first... valentino was never close to the qualifier marc is (defo not a bad qualifier but very much a sunday man)... but that part of his game definitely declined sharper and earlier than everything else and he had some horrendous qualifying seasons when he was still otherwise competitive. it'll be interesting to track next year for sure, defo curious to see how the h2h shakes out with pecco

[chaoswillcalmusdown]

i keep thinking about this scene and sydney talking about how all she wants is to cook for people and make them happy and season 2 when sydney says she wants a michelin star and carmy goes ??

like is it 1) her actual dream to have a star and she just kind of didn't think it was possible bc she was consumed with her catering failure and working with carmy made her think it could actually happen

or is it 2) the highest level of success in the food industry but not acTUally what she wants (and what she wants is actually much more in the vein of michael jordan's steakhouse which is not a michelin star place) ??

[k-wame]

no you dont understand he's so hot

[pygian-weapon]

the power Jeremy Allen has over straight men, he has the potential to be this generation's Ryan Reynolds

[milltownhistoricalsociety]

This Day in History: June 28th, 1916

"In the discussion that followed, it was stated by the respective managers that to permit Kelleher to continue on the Michelin roster would be an injustice to the other teams." #Baseball #OTD #Michelin #Milltown #Factory #local #sports #History

Factory League Rules Kelleher Ineligible to Play With Michelin Kelleher will not play with Michelin any more this season, unless he changes his employment. This action was taken by the board of managers at a meeting last night. Kelleher has been catching for the Tires and was rated as the best in the league. He was a sure thrower to the bases and a dangerous man with the stick. In reporting…

[dekuneho]

five in the morning ☆ ( ​prohero!katsuki x reader ) mdni | suggestive

The digital alarm clock seated on your bedside table flickers, casting a glow that reads 5 AM in the asscrack of morning. Your boyfriend is dead asleep and probably won’t wake up for a while, hopefully. You don’t waste opportunities that the universe has clearly granted on a silver platter, and so you set to work right away.

You slip off the bed, skillfully slithering away from Katsuki’s grip. He stirs momentarily, legs sliding over the warmth you had left; you hold your breath, watching him carefully. Katsuki continues snoring.

Mission accomplished.

Katsuki’s the better cook, and he had been spoiling you rotten all this time with his three-star Michelin cooking. Considering how well he treated you last night, you want to treat him by waking up to breakfast in bed this morning. It’ll be nothing special, but he’d be on the other end of the princess treatment this time, and it’s at least something.

A traditional Japanese breakfast would take a while, but you had prepared beforehand with leftovers and freezer foods. Now, the real challenge is perfecting Tamagoyaki the way Katsuki does — an impossible feat, but you wouldn’t be Katsuki’s favorite person in the world if you weren’t stubborn and headstrong.

As the rice boils, you move to reach for a cutting board but instead, startle at a warm figure pressing against your back.

Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to wake up right away! You barely started. Did he wake up once he realized you were missing?

“Katsuki,” you say, twisting around to meet your boyfriend’s half-asleep daze. “Can you go back to bed and pretend to be surprised in preferably an hour or so?”

“Nah,” he rasps out, octaves lower than usual. “Don’t wanna waste my view.”

Your plans have been foiled, but whatever. The heat emanating from Katsuki’s body makes you want to leech off him for a little longer. This morning had been a little too cold for comfort.

Katsuki keeps quiet as you work, his chin resting on the curve of your shoulder. He doesn’t murmur any complaints or criticisms, so it could either be because he’s approving of your methods, or it could be because he’s dozing off on your clavicle. He’s pliable as you glide through the kitchen, back and forth — and still, Katsuki’s like a cat perched over you.

“Hey,” Katsuki says. You feel his voice rumble over his chest, and it meets your shoulder blades. “Baby, look at me, please.”

A please so early in the morning? What a miracle.

You shift around, meeting Katsuki’s sharp and heated gaze. Seems like he enjoyed watching you a little too much. You smile, your arms slowly winding their way around his shoulders as his nose brushes against yours.

“Hi,” you whisper in the space you share, grinning.

“Mm,” hums Katsuki, expression turning fierce.

Without warning, he ducks and bites over your nose. It doesn’t hurt, just the threat of his sharp teeth on your skin. Still, you jump in his hold, bewildered and possibly a little aroused?

“Katsuki—”

He licks over your mouth, humming like a cat purring in approval. 

Well — scratch that. He’s more like a dog, licking your face like that, what the hell? You hide your face with an arm, ignoring the heat pooling in your stomach at how Katsuki’s staring at you like he’s mistaken you for breakfast. Breakfast that you worked hard to prepare!

“Down, boy,” you scold. Is he experiencing cuteness aggression?

“Had some on your lips,” Katsuki explains, like he couldn’t have just wiped it off with his thumb. “Tastes good.”

He pokes his tongue out, and you go cross-eyed, trying to follow it. There’s a trace of sauce on it, and you have to summon the power of a thousand men to hold back from sucking on it. He cages you on the island counter with two beefy arms.

“You, I mean,” clarifies Katsuki.

The thousand men are failing miserably.

“Katsuki,” you warn, sounding winded. Pointedly ignoring his grin, you push on his chest. “Let me finish your damn food first, ungrateful brat.”

“You ain’t my ma,” Katsuki snarks back. “Could make you one, if you—”

“Katsuki!” You push on his shoulders with more force, ears burning. Katsuki barks out a gleeful laugh, sounding too lively at this hour, feeding your mess of irritation and arousal.

Katsuki skids to a halt before you can reach the dining table, leaning forward to capture your lips in his. You inhale sharply, fingers twitching uselessly by his side. Katsuki pries your lips open with his, licking into your mouth some more. You can taste the residue of the fruits of your labor ( the breakfast that will get cold soon if Katsuki doesn’t cut this shit out ), and his hand sliding down to cup your ass is all it takes for you to melt against him.

You jerk away, needing to breathe. Katsuki watches you with a frown. You feel lightheaded.

“Fuckin’ cute,” he mutters, pinching your cheek. “Cookin’ breakfast f’me like that. So good to me, baby, you know that?”

“I — I should be the one saying that, Katsuki,” you say, embarrassed. “‘s why I wanted to surprise you.”

Katsuki scowls. “Stop acting all cute so damn early in the morning. I don’t want to fuckin’ marry you on some random fucking Wednesday.”

Breakfast is quiet, with you steaming from embarrassment and Katsuki preening from his win, all smug and stupidly handsome. It didn’t work out as planned, but maybe it was just an opportunity for you to share a Wednesday morning with your Katsuki, who’s criticizing the lack of spice but inhaling every grain of rice on his plate. 

You smile at your food. Maybe marrying him on a Wednesday wouldn’t be so bad.

[nanaslutt]

Can we get a part 2 of when reader asks satoru and suguru if they fucked before

of course ml!! tysm for asking <3

part 1 here~

contains: fem reader, fluff, crack, choking, hair pulling, anal sex (gojo gets fucked) spanking (geto spanks gojo once), dirty talk, overstimulation, dacryphilia if you squint, dare i say sub satoru, sub/dom dynamics if you squint, suguru and reader are competitive, u tag team gojo together

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“so, when we’re you guys gonna tell me you’ve fucked before?” you asked, raising your eyebrows

gojo froze in place, pausing his efforts to get a towel to clean you up, he slowly turns to you, faux innocence on his stupidly pretty face, a big hand coming to rub the back of his neck

both you and geto stare at him, a smirk plastered on sugurus handsome features, heavy hand holding up his head, awaiting his response,

“now what on earth put that idea in your pretty little head?” he questions, hand falling on his hip sassily as he does an absolutely awful job lying

“oh i don’t knoww,” you drawl, pretending to think, “maybe geto telling you he was going to fuck you like it was the most normal thing in the world,” you scrunched your nose, shrugging

“but what do i know!” your eyebrows raised, suppressing a smile,

“nothing, you know nothing,” he replied, wiggling his finger back and forth in front of him like a child

“don’t tell me you forgot satoru, you might hurt my feelings.” geto teased, from his place between your calves, tilting his head to the side, “i know we were a little tipsy, but you told me i was an unforgettable fuck.” he pouted, faking offense, “you weren’t lying to me were you?”

satoru’s hand still on his hip like the sassy man he was, his mouth just flopping open and closing like a fish out of water, trying to think of a quick retort but failing to come up with anything, because the raven haired man was right

he was a truly unforgettable fuck

“now my feelings are hurt, he didn’t say I was an unforgettable fuck..” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest,

“your mouth almost sucked the soul out of me,” he echoed from the hall

he had taken the opportunity of getos attention on you while he was ‘consoling’ you to slip out of the room, walking back in with a few damp towels, “course you’re an unforgettable fuck, way more than that monkey brained freak,” he hisses at geto, sitting next to you on the bed, using the warm towel to wipe his cum from your cheeks,

“oh? really?” geto let his head fall from his hand, landing against your knee, squinting his eyes at satoru while the blonde continued cleaning down your body, wiping up any fluids the two men had left

“think i remember making you cum..how many times was it again? 4? you were shooting blanks before i was even done with you” he smiles, rubbing your knee fondly with his strong hand while staring at gojo challengingly,

gojo looks away from your breasts, staring back into geto’s deep brown eyes,

“n they only made you cum once..” suguru mumbles into your knee,

“woah! woah, okay, I didn’t know i was competing with you in the first place!” you defend yourself, front half of your body shooting up, making gojo sigh as you accidentally knocked his hand back, “‘s not about quantity anyways, it’s about quality” you said smugly,

“n toru here, said I almost made him die so id say my quality is michelin star,” you proclaimed, narrowing your eyes at him before gojo pushed ur torso back down,

“i’m surrounded by a buncha babies jesus christ,” gojo shakes his head, pulling your leg out of sugurus grasp to access your leaking cunt better, pressing the harsh cloth against you and wiping you as gently as he could,

“sorry,” he winced for you in sympathy when you groaned out a protest, trying to close your legs on his hand at how painfully sensitive the rough towel made you feel, “anyways, you’re both good in bed, kay?” he continues,

“when suguru fucks me, it feels like my fucking guts are getting all messed up to make room for his stupidly big cock,” looking up through his lashes at sugurus smug expression, then back down to focus on what he was doing before making eye contact with you,

your arms still crossed over your chest, “n your throat squeezes me so fucking good i thought i was seein the pearly gates,” hand coming up to pinch your cheek, discarding the towel somewhere on the floor, standing once more to look for someone’s shirt on the floor he can put on,

“ ‘fucks’ as in you’ve had sex multiple times?” you stared in disbelief between the two of the large men, before settling your eyes on suguru

continuing your teasing you spoke up again, “and my compliment still sounded better,” you challenged him, a smug looks gracing your features

“you think so?” the raven haired man scrunched his eyebrows together, before turning his head to look straight at gojo’s supple bent over ass as he picked up a shirt and started to pull it over his head, “well, only one way to be sure which of us is really better.” he says to you quietly before standing

coming up behind gojo and grabbing his raised arms, preventing him from putting on his shirt, “hold that thought satoru, we’re in the middle of a little debate right now” yanking the shirt from satoru’s hands and throwing it back to its prior home on the floor,

“think you can help us? hmm?” he whispers, right into the shell of his best friends ear, sending goosebumps down his neck, “we’ll make it worth your while.”

———————————————————————

almost two hours later and the three of you were still in the same room, on the same bed,

gojo on his back, suguru fucking his cock right into his prostate as you face gojo, bouncing on his overstimulated dick, a thick ring of yours and his combined cum on the base of his overstimulated cock,

“c-cant cum anymore p-please- haaah- fuck please!” gojo whimpers out, thrashing his head back and forth on the sheets as fat tears drip down his face, making his cheeks shine under the light, “‘s too much ‘m too sensitive, ohmygodd” he drags, curses spilling from his lips one after another, his hold on your grip sure to leave nasty bruises as his hips fuck into your warm cunt without his brains permission,

“not till you tell us who’s better,” geto emphasizes with a heavy thrust, hand coming up to choke you out while he gives gojos poor hole the meanest treatment,

“‘s me right? ‘ve made you cum inside me so many times.” you slur, voice strained from getos rough grip on your throat

“bold of you to think that was your doing,” geto scoffs at you, “cmere,” he pulls your head back to press your lips together, other hand interlacing with gojos on your hip

satoru whines underneath the two of you, watching you makeout and feeling your cunt pulse around him because of suguru’s expert tongue work in your mouth had him spiraling

your hands coming up to grab geto’s wrist while he hums into the kiss, biting your lip between his teeth and pulling on it, letting it go before he chases after it and connects your lips once more

“‘m gunna cum again- please fuck- nggghhh i c-cant cum again,” gojo whines, squeezing getos hand and your hip for support as he’s falling into yet another orgasm and fast,

suguru pulls away from the kiss, releasing his grip on your neck as he pushes your lower back down twords gojos chest, “yes you can,” he growls

the raven haired man grabs your hair by the roots and pushes your face into satorus, “help him through it baby,” not needing to be told twice, you grab gojos cheeks with both your hands and slot your lips against his,

“mmmmph- mmm- can-t- p-please i-“ his protests being cut off by your lips, not letting him catch a breath

“got you, cmon” you comfort him in between your assault on his lips, geto reaching between his bestfriend and your body, finding your neglected clit, and rubbing sloppy circles on it, helping you get closer to your own high

“right there with you,” geto grits his teeth, resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and tip his head back, so he can watch the show unfolding in front of him,

“gonna fill up this tight ass while you cum inside them, okay? and you’re gonna take everything we give you, right?” geto’s hips losing their rhythm, teetering on the edge of his own orgasm

gojo just whimpers into your mouth, hes trying to speak, he really is, but it’s all too much, he’s completely fucked out

“need to hear you say it satoru,” he emphasizes with a mean thrust, fucking impossibly deeper into his tight hole,

getos hand rubbing sloppily on your clit almost becomes too much, “yes! yesyes please ohmygod- gonna take it- shit-“ gojo’s whiney voice gets out just before he feels your cunt start to squeeze him,

“toru! fuuuuck me!” you whine, the blondes hips mindlessly fucking up into you helping you ride out your high as he cums so fucking hard, bordering on painful as spurt after spurt of his warm seed fills you once more,

and he’s gasping, barely coherent broken moans of both of your names on satoru’s tongue

geto not far behind you as he stills, balls deep inside gojos ass, the last push he needed seeing the two of you cum all over each other,

“yesssss fuuuuck” he clenches his teeth together hard, toothy grin emerging on his face, finally letting his head fall back, eyes following suit, rolling to the back of his head, “take it f-fucking t-take it.” fucking each rope of his cum deep into gojo’s ass

all three of you bask in the aftershocks of your intense orgasms, core clenching and unclenching around gojo’s length as you finally come down, picking your head up from gojos neck and smiling at his current state,

he was sniffling and gasping, red faced, tears decorating his lashes, making them look like glitter, he appeared more fucked out than ever

geto behind him slowly pulls out his softening cock, and gojo lets out a long groan of overstimulation when he does so, digging his fingers into the fat of your sides and wincing, “fuck, please don’t move yet, might pass out if you do” he says to you, his poor dick crying for relief, still snug inside your pussy, twitching every so often against your walls

you giggle, peppering kisses all over his face, he lets his eyes shut, finally relaxing a little as he relishes in the feeling of your soft lips on his skin,

suguru coming around to sit by his head

when you stop your assult of kisses on his porcelain face geto grabs gojos cheek furthest away from him and makes him turn his head into his thick thigh, “so,” geto starts, rubbing his thumb on gojos cheek, “who was better?” he asks, cocky smile finding home once more on his face

gojos eyes shoot open, looking at him slightly panicked, squeezing your upper thighs for support before he speaks, looking back between the two of you,

“i….im afraid if i don’t answer we will never leave this room.” he gulps

geto confirms his fears, tilting his head to the side, face sporting the fakest smile of comfort gojo has ever seen, “you would be absolutely right.”

[cheyisagirlkisser]

݁ ˖ ◜You're Vi's prison wife: 18+ HCs

•Vi who was never quiet in prison. She loved mouthing off, especially to the guys who had egos 20 times the size of their dicks. She usually stuck to using people for her own gain in Stillwater. Men were her entertainment, and women her pleasure. Anything between could serve as both, depending on how annoying they were.

•Vi who was sent to share your cell after she tortured some poor guy in the cell next to hers. The warden's orders were final, and she was banned from even stepping foot in that floor. You resided in the third floor for petty crimes, but you were a Zaunite, so of course you were given more time than necessary.

•Vi who was always either punching the walls of your cell or making sarcastic comments. It was honestly entertaining for you, a blessing in a place like Stillwater. She warmed up to you quickly, probably out of pure boredom and loneliness, but she didn't mind sharing a cell if it meant with a pretty undercity girl. She was starting to get...ansty, though.

•Vi who (mostly) jokingly asked you to be her prison wife. You laughed in her face at first, confused as to what the term 'prison wife' even meant. She explained to you, in great detail, that prison wives are like short-term relationships without the actual love. It was just a way to combat the loneliness that set in with the environment and to have a physical stress-reliever. Then she asked you forreal, and you ended up agreeing with the pathetic but desperate feelings that swarmed you. Everyone had the need to feel loved, even if it was pretend. It was just human nature.

•Vi who liked sneaking over to your bed at night when the guards didn't really care to do rounds after midnight. At first, it was for cheeky reasons such as talking to you, sometimes flirting around. Then, she'd plop down onto your bed and pull you in for late-night make-out sessions. Her lips felt so warm against yours, even if they were chapped and she was rather brash. Her kisses felt desperate in a sense, as she always sought out your tongue with hers, and after the first few times, quiet laughs and small sessions turned into her mouth finding its way down your body, her eyes remaining on yours as she ate you out like you were a Michelin-level meal in a world of canned beans.

•Vi who was a MUNCH. She loved taking her time, smothering her wet, sloppy kisses all over your thighs in the late hours until you cursed under your breath and only encouraged more. Fuck, she loved taking care of her prison wife. She'd finally slide her tongue between your slick folds, dipping deeper into your hole and letting her nose brush up against your swollen bud. Soon, she'd attend the mass that was your clit, her tongue swirling around it as she used her heavy hands to pry your legs further apart. You would be dumbed down to absolutely nothing, a blabbering slut for her to mold however she wanted. You would beg for mercy after the third orgasm, and Vi would feign sweetness, climbing up your body to clamp a hand over your mouth. When you finally began to relax, she gave you a shit-eating grin and slid two(or three if you can handle it) digits into your cunt, loving the way your whines created vibrations through her other hand that muffled your sounds.

•Vi who was more than just pleasure for you. Being a wife and all is always more than what you get from simply fucking. For instance: the prison food in Stillwater was unbelievably horrible, but you did like the peaches they'd serve. Vi, like clockwork, would shuffle over to you and hold out her tray to you, peaches the only uneaten food. In return, you had her back. If a guard asked you if Vi had anything to do with the guy with a broken nose? You didn't see a thing.

•Vi who was obsessed with your tits. Sometimes, she'd spend what felt like hours with her mouth latched onto one of your nipples, your breathing heavy from the pure intensity of her touch. She wouldn't even need to fuck you on those nights, and if she did she'd still have a hand groping a tit while she had her head buried between your thighs, or leave hickies on both as her fingers sought deep inside you.

•Vi who noticed you had a huge problem with not being able to shut up during sex, so she opted for slipping her fingers into your mouth. That choice turned out much different than she had even hoped for, because the feeling of your soft, wet tongue swirling around and tasting her skin? God, it’d send jolts straight to her core. It became a routine to practically finger-fuck your mouth while she was actually finger-fucking you.

•Vi who fell much harder for you than she should've. She wasn't immune to feelings, but at least tried to keep everything impersonal in prison. You, however, wrecked any efforts she made. You were addictive and made her weak in the knees with a smile. You were somehow so soft and sweet, and you didn't truly belong in a cell. Still, she was grateful you were, so she could have you all to herself for as long as possible.

•Vi who got out a few months before you, and when you finally returned to the under-city, she didn't hesitate to stake a claim on you forreal. You were hers, inside or outside of that fucked up prison. Just now, she could have you moan as loudly as she could possibly cause, and she could fuck you in her own bed.

[artsninspo]

"FLAGS? CRIMSON 🚩" - RIO X READER

Authors Note: Monday Morning 🍵 , this one is based around the asks, the girls wanted filthy rio, I tried 😘

Summary: You have your concerns and reservations. Rio doesn't give a damn ... usually but then you stand on business, staying away for two weeks. Rio doesn't like that and lets his presence be known.

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Black Reader

Warnings: Spicy🌶️🌶️🌶️, theres possessiveness, stalking?, hair grabbing, mild-spanking & dub-con elements.

Word-Count: 2.5K

Full Masterlist

RIO MASTERLIST

You and Rio have been in a standoff for the past three weeks. It started with him snatching your phone out of your hand as you attempted to take a picture of the two of you. He’d wined and dined you after a busy work week. He had his place turned into a restaurant to hold the intimate date. How often does a girl get Michelin grade food with a side of five star dick? Rio was something new, he chased you mercilessly but there was never that ‘let me show you off’ phase that you’re typically used to. There were no meetings or greetings from friends or family.  You were excited for a relationship that was private but you didn’t sign up to be a secret. You already made it clear to him that you wanted to know if he was sleeping with other people. You’d asked him countless times if he was seeing someone else, secretly married, everything. Each time Rio’s been dismissive, more present and somehow better in bed to prove his point. It was only you. Still your suspicions beat out every single affirmation of his. As good as it’s been physically, the flags are crimson.

Swallowing hard you make your way to the country club for tonight’s benefit. Your phone rings again. Rio’s name flashes and you respond with another customer service-esque response, that delays your meeting citing being busy and exhausted as the reason. At first Rio was giving you time to cool off but now he’s relentless. If you were the only one perhaps his hand just isn't cutting it anymore. Rubbing shoulders isn’t typically your favourite thing to do but socialising is better than sitting at home and forcing yourself not to think of him. you see a few childhood friends among the opportunists and the schmoozes that frequent this kind of social climber opportunity. You dance and drink and enjoy the night out with your peers who are going off the rails. They encourage you to mingle with the eligible men but you know better. Thankfully your father’s wealth has purchased your freedom. There’s no need to pretend to be interested in them or the woman ‘worth’ settling for, to gain the opportunity for a more ‘financially free’ life.

It’s after two in the morning when you’re finally headed home. You tip your cabby and head in the lobby. It's been three weeks since you’ve been taken care of properly and you feel it every time you have to sit in the house alone. You make a mental note to buy a vibrator to take the edge off until you can find Rio’s replacement. The ding of the elevator gets your attention and you head to your apartment unlocking the door. The cold floor feels perfect against your sore feet. You let out a sigh of relief picking up your heels as you lock up behind you. You’re nearly down the hall to your bedroom when you freeze in place. Rio’s seated dressed in all black on your sofa. He stands furious and you take a step back so startled your heart is racing. Maybe it’s the liquor. You squeeze your eyes shut but when you open them he’s more clear.

“How was the party?” He asks.

“What are you doing here?” You ask. 

“My girl has been sick for three weeks dodging me, you’ve been moody and shit so I’m wondering if you're down bad. I come here to be supportive and you don’t answer the door. I worry and get the spare key from management. I come in and you’re nowhere to be found. Now I just know you’ll be back soon but then I’m sitting here waiting and what do I see?” Rio asks before pulling up your social media, all the reposted stories from the girls night are there. You feel caught. His energy is menacing.

“And you didn’t leave and think maybe I don’t want to see you anymore?” You snap and Rio moves quickly grabbing a handful of your hair at the back of your head to pull you in. Your heart races and you feel your body begin to betray your brain, relishing the contact.

“You’re still lying to me?” He challenges. You look up at him in defiance and he smiles loosening his grip on your hair. “I should really leave you high and dry,” he threatens.

“Then let go of me” you respond, challenging him and his grip on your hair releases but he doesn’t step back. You can feel his breath on your face as you look up at him. You stare back at his angry eyes. He’s the only man who’s never cowered at your defiance.

“You think you can quit me just like that?” He asks settling into his usual disposition. Calm, challenging, maddening.

“It'll be pretty easy actually, no pictures, no mutuals, Rio who?” You taunt raising a brow before fearlessly turning your back to him. It strikes a nerve. Sighing to maintain his cool he wonders why he likes strong willed women while admiring  your frame in your selected outfit for the occasion. If it were anyone else he’d be out the door, he wouldn’t put up with it but you have him by the balls and have no idea. He hears the shower running and makes himself comfortable in your bedroom.

“You’re still here?” You respond sarkily fresh out of the shower and better equipped to handle the uninvited guest currently occupying the lounge in your bedroom. Rio’s eyes make note of your tone and that you have nothing under your robe, using it as a more secure towel.

“Mama, I know you’ve got liquor in you but tread lightly. Ya hear?” He warns still in his seat. All you want to do is be his baby. To take care of him, for him to take care of you. To have multiple orgasms to  pass out in his arms throughly fucked and a little sore. To be his road dog on his runs listening to music and eating snacks. To surprise him with blowjobs when he’s stressed from his work and watch as he loses control.

“I’m not drunk” you respond with folded arms.

“C’mere” Rio sighs, relaxing in the lounge chair. Usually it would work but he’s too comfortable. Instead you ignore his request heading into the bathroom to finish up your nighttime routine. You’re looking in the mirror and finishing up your skincare routine with hand lotion when he appears behind you. His expression is serious and you hear metal clanking. Looking down you see he’s unfastened his belt. Your eyes hold his and you watch as his hands slide up your thighs lifting your robe. His lips don’t offer praise or affection; a rarity. Anticipation builds as his hold tightens around your hips. Bringing them back against his growing manhood. He doesn’t need to promise a lesson. His eyes tell you it’s going to be sweet punishment. His hand swipes against your folds to find you’re already ready. He applies pressure before sliding a finger into you. Watching your expression change in the mirror.

“You’re lucky no one else has been in what’s mine” he comments possessively.

“You’re lucky” you contest moaning as he finds his rhythm with his fingers.

“Keep talking shit” he warns but it feels too good to talk back. “What’s that?” He asks finding your spot. Edging you closer and closer to your release.

“Mmmmm” you moan as he changes pace.

“That’s what I thought” he says onto your ear before giving your neck a kiss. You can feel him fully hard pressing into you from behind as he makes you come with his hand. You’re throbbing for more as you pant trying to recover. You want to kiss him but his eyes tell you all is not forgiven yet. He leaves a stinging slap on your ass. Punishment. Your brain chemistry alters making you wetter. It’s sick and twisted what Rio’s capable of bringing out of you. The quickness of the orgasm affirms you haven't stepped out on him, it pisses him off that you've been deliberately depriving him of sex. “When I call, answer the phone, don't send me any more automatic texts, or stupid distant responses.” He says laying down the law. “Dont ignore me” he adds.

“If you want me to behave differently treat me better” you manage standing upright and looking at him in the mirror again. He should walk out now. He should be done with you but he isn’t. You watch his jaw clench. He sees what needs to be done in spite of it being early morning, your defiance energises him. When he smiles your heart catches and it’s the moment he slides in full hilt. Gasping, your eyes close as he fills you completely, fitting snug. The feel of your walls around him nearly makes him lose control but he has a point to prove. When you wake up he wants you to see and feel him all over you. Pulling back before going back in repeatedly you feel your breaths grow shallow. The feeling is second to none.  It’s why Rio’s so different. Your chemistry is always enough foreplay. He leaves you satiated every time. He’s no slouch and your moans affirm the truth. Instead of putting on a show most of the time you’re fighting to hold them back. But Rio knows how much you enjoy when he’s inside you. The slickness of your walls, the responsiveness of your body, how soft and malleable you become. Gripping the counter you brace for his impact as he fucks you into it. His hand protectively palms your stomach to keep you from falling forward into the faucet. His pace and strength is punishing in the best way possible. You come hard again.You want a break but when he pulls out he lowers. Gripping your thighs bringing you closer to claim you with his mouth. He hoists you onto the counter to better his leverage before sucking and driving you crazy.

“Leave me for who” he asks, somehow still dominating you while in a submissive position. He continues like his appetite for you is insatiable and it must be because in  moments you find yourself beyond the point of comprehension. You moan yeses and other sounds of praise. He’s so good you can barely enjoy the sight of him pleasing you. Your head is back for most of it. You come even harder the third time absolutely spent. Rio gets up slower this time he knows you’re worn thin. He knows he has you in the palm of his hands. You look at his manhood standing at attention. His pants aren’t fully off, neither are his boxers. That’s how much he needed you. Your robe is still on too, you albeit not properly. There wasn’t even time to undress. Looking at him you go to return the favour but Rio stops you.

“No, I want to be in my pussy” he tells you, turning you around again.

“Let’s go to bed” you offer.

“Shut up be a boss and take it standing up” he continues goading you. Your legs are tired from standing all night and worn in from your orgasms.

“Rio please?” You whine and he chuckles.

“Now you want to be nice?” he asks.

“Baby please” you add.

“Now I’m baby?” he smiles pecking your cheek, having omitted his usual intimacy.

“Mhm” you nod.

“Words” he challenges.

“Rio!” You snap and he silences you again with re-entry. His hand over your mouth stifles a curse before he lets you taste your arousal on his fingers. His strokes are lighter than before and his rhythm is lethal. He’s a man that listens, he hits just where you need, and you feel the last bit of resistance and tension leave your body like a spool of thread being spun out. Your body is pliable and responsive. You lose your restraint, your moans affirming his talent and everything you feel. Rio’s moans follow, so do curses. Your body buzzes with satisfaction as you feel his pace hitch and the tension of a coming release. You prepare for the loss of contact but it doesn’t come. He thrusts deeper coming inside of you. You’re surprised for a millisecond before the feeling makes you relax. Your body settles completely. You feel goosebumps pepper your flesh as he hums emptying all of his pent up lust into you. You dare to look up into the mirror. His eyes are watching you. The anger is out of his face, his expression is blank and distant. You don’t recognize it as you feel his arousal dripping down your leg. His palm is against your stomach again. You hold it tighter and he comes to. You realise he’s sated and the unfamiliar look is a mix of exhaustion and euphoria. You want to kiss him so bad, he steps back pulling out and robbing you of the contact. His manhood bounces as it falls. You feel sore instantly. It takes him some time to catch his breath. Catching yours, you don’t know how to feel. If he’s still upset or if you’re back on solid ground. Rio answers the question when he turns on the water in your shower and holds out a hand inviting you in. You both get naked and he kisses you hard under the water before washing you up with care. He’s unpredictable and you are relieved he hasn't walked out to make you eat your words. After washing you up he gets dressed, choosing from the clothes he’s left for times like these, and to mark his territory.

“It’s quiet” he comments as you get into your night dress. A smirk plays on his lips. You roll your eyes climbing into the bed incapable of further defiance and too exhausted for a witty retort. Rio follows suit, pulling you in and spooning you. You know sleep won’t be far.

“Nite” he whispers.

“Nite” you respond.

When you awake you’re happy until you see Rio getting dressed. Rolling over you check the time to see it's 8am. Not enough time has passed for a full rest. You don’t have the energy to argue with him. Putting on a T-shirt Rio snickers pleased with the fruit of his labour. Now dressed in a sweatsuit he walks over to your side of the bed leaning in for a kiss. You oblige and he steals a few extra pecks before standing to look at you.

“Get some rest, I have a meeting. I’ll be back with some breakfast around 11:30, then I want you on the road with me” Rio says casually.

“Rio-“ you start, he knows you’re about to protest by your tone.

“I don’t want to hear about that shit anymore. You want to be public, now everyone will know I’m fucking you when you start to show in a few months. You won’t be able to get rid of me for years.” He says shocking you. You sit up scared straight and he smiles.

“Later … mama” he says walking out with a wink.

———-

Authors Note: Rio’s hell right? But we love our bad boy 😉 This one’s for the anons who wanted it nasty. I did my best to keep it Rio. Let me know if I got the vibe you were looking for. Like, comment, reblog.

[snootyfoxfashion]

Universal Monsters: Creature from the Black Lagoon x Micheline Pitt Collection

Dive into the depths of classic horror and timeless style with our newest collection, a thrilling collaboration between Vixen by Micheline Pitt and Universal Products & Experiences. Celebrate the legacy of Universal Monsters and the 70th anniversary of Creature from the Black Lagoon with meticulously crafted replica pieces and stunning digital prints featuring iconic art from the original film movie posters. This collection pays homage to the iconic wardrobe worn in the film which remains etched in cinematic history. Each piece reflects the elegance and allure of the costumes and vintage fashion of the era of the film from the unforgettable white one-piece swimsuit to the sophisticated 1950s silhouettes that defined the character's style.

[ozzgin]

The Mean Girl Bully Reader x Nerd Loser Yandere story sparked another red flag reader idea I had 😈

Imagine a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere. Unlike our favorite monster whore gal, and two-faced bully, this new reader insert is super vocal about her distaste in just about everything. Hardly anything is up to her “standards.” She not only complains, but whines too! 🥳

Then her poor beau weirdly loves her despite her horrid personality. I don’t know how, I’ll leave that part of imagining up to you, but there’s my request 🥺

I just like morally grey or blatant antagonistic readers. A lot of times, it’s more fun if the reader is attractive this way to a yandere, than having stereotypical good traits, like being compassionate or respectful 😔

So please, a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere?

-👘

I was wondering if I should just incorporate this into the Yandere CEO draft I have, but I had this sudden idea for a downright shameless relationship between a beloved, well-respected politician and a perverted, needy brat of a Darling. (I don't like politicians but alas, I needed a high-stakes public profession for this)

Yandere! Politician x Bratty! Reader

Mr. Politician is a true rarity in his field of work: well-mannered, articulate, and most importantly, genuine in his dedication. He works tirelessly for change and improvement, earning the adoration of the people. There's only one exception to his loyalty: no country ever comes before his Darling. And what a demanding Darling you are...

Content: female reader, older yandere, NSFW, some exhibitionism

Many would describe their interactions with Mr. Politician as follows: he's disciplined, confident and resourceful. A natural born leader, you can tell within seconds of meeting him that he is a man to rely on. He's spent many years in the game, and nothing can shake him out of his signature calmness. He keeps everything in pristine order, and nothing escapes his scrutiny.

There is, however, one quirk only few select people know about. A detail no one dares to discuss. It is common knowledge that Mr. Politician has a partner, yet the particularities of it are kept private. His beloved is a much younger girl, rotten to the core. It is unclear how this pairing came to be; the day Mr. Politician won his place in his prestigious office, he showed up with the mysterious feminine figure at his side.

What's certain and obvious to all witnesses is that his vocabulary quickly discards any meaning of refusal whenever he's dealing with you. It almost feels like the man worships you. He's never alluded to being religious, most likely because that role's been taken already. His eyes soften whenever directed at you, gleaming with raw adoration.

Splurging on expensive things is a given. Money has never been an issue for someone of his status. In fact, it's a handy and convenient tool he frequently uses to dampen the damage of your tantrums.

"Disgusting", you spit between your teeth, pushing the plate away and crossing your arms. The renowned chef of the Michelin star restaurant can only stare in horror before Mr. Politician intervenes with a chuckle. "Not feeling it today, huh?", he coos at you with loving strokes. "May I ask that you bring everything else from the menu?" he says in a sterner voice to the employee. "E-everything, Sir?" the waitstaff questions. "Well, naturally. I can't let my Darling starve."

"I'm bored. Let's leave now", you mention bluntly, standing in front of the heavily ornate table with a huff. "Are you sure, Darling? It's an important meeting for the country", Mr. Politician tries to plead. Around him, the other men sit baffled, observing the outrageous exchange. "Now!" you conclude louder. Before anyone can protest, your boyfriend stands up obediently and reaches out for your hand. "Then allow me to guide you, love."

A paradox. His earnest work is put to a halt if you require anything from him. Somehow, he has until now managed to juggle the two with little effort, and to his credit, there have been many instances requiring nerves of steel. Such as you paying him an unannounced visit to the office, and disliking the fact he was unavailable due to a meeting. So, you marched over to the window and promptly flashed your chest against the glass. Everyone else was focused on the opposing whiteboard; he was the only one who immediately noticed your arrival. "As you can see, the expected result is irresistible", he continued with a professional smile, tapping the graph with a marker.

Everyone knows Mr. Politician is fervently devoted to his principles. Take his last public speech, for example. Knuckles white from gripping the podium, he'd nearly choked during an eloquent -but passionate - conclusion. His face was red, his jaw tightened. He needed a moment to recollect himself, and the public waited with bated breaths, visibly emotional. Of course, they couldn't tell the outrageous truth: that you were shamelessly kneeling at his feet, pumping and teasing his erection until, at last, he let go all over your face.

"I wanted to see if you'd stumble on your words", you explain afterwards, wiping the sticky liquid off with a damp cloth. "That would've been unpleasant", he responds with a shiver. "It was live on national television."

He does not seem too bothered by the potential risk of being caught. Truly, his nonchalance knows no bounds when it comes to you. Or perhaps it is part of the charm. There's something quite depraved yet tempting about this perpetual contrast.

To return your daring favor, he gently places you onto his desk and spreads your legs, leaving trails of kisses along the inner surface of your thigh. A quick glance down confirms his suspicions: your bare bottom lays on top of confidential, rather important documents he dutifully signed hours ago. How thrilling of a feeling! He already smiles in anticipation, picturing himself as he hands over the folder to the oblivious party. He's not breaking any rules, now, is he? Nowhere in the book of etiquette does it state you mustn't fuck your beloved on top of official papers.

You gaze at the disheveled face underneath you. "One day I'll get you in trouble", you blurt out between whines. "Me? Oh, Darling. You know I always have everything under control." He lifts himself up and gives you a quick, desperate kiss. "Including you."

[hairmetal666]

Eddie stands at the bar, sipping at the whisky in his glass, eyes flickering over the crush of bodies and dark mahogany. He's at a premier party at TIFF, doesn't remember what movie it's for, is supposed to "mingle" according to his agent. And sure, he's charismatic, got a big personality and a loud mouth, but he's not good at networking; resents having to perform when he's not playing a role. Resents it more that he's an Oscar nominated actor, that his work doesn't stand for itself.

And then there's the Steve Harrington of it all. Heartthrob. America's Sweetheart. The boy next door. He's across the room, deep in conversation, but his eyes--they keep finding Eddie, scanning him with unmistakable heat.

They starred in a movie called Dying on the Pass. Played life-long best friends who became elite chefs and opened a restaurant together. The movie follows the dissolution of their friendship as the stresses of pursuing a Michelin Star drive them apart. It was a critical and commercial hit, cue awards noms, and offers pouring in, and--

Steve Harrington is his bed.

They promised, when filming wrapped. They swore it was the last time. They promised--

They basically shared a hotel room during awards season, woke up tangled together every morning.

They spent a torrid weekend in Atlanta after Steve wrapped on a Netflix action movie.

Six months after, they had a quick, furious fuck in the bathroom at a club in London.

Dangerous, stupid, but no one caught them. And here Steve is in Toronto, surrounded by press, staring at Eddie like he wants to eat him.

Eddie tries to ignore it. But every time their eyes meet, warmth pools low in his abdomen, and he wants.

They meet up eventually, pose for a couple of pictures, Eddie trying to ignore the way his skin tingles everywhere that Steve touches. Steve slings an arm around his waist, lets it linger.

After, Eddie goes out for a smoke, the patio blissfully deserted. He's half way through his cigarette when Steve steps out the sliding door, wrapping his hands in Eddie's hair, pulling him into a kiss. The cigarette drops as he grips onto the other man, a whimper slipping from his lips.

He should stop this, they're outside, anyone could see, and Steve isn't out--isn't--he's straight to the entire world, the straightest man alive. And Eddie, he's open about his preferences, identifies as queer, though lately he's been more interested in men--in one man, specifically-- and Steve isn't out, isn't ready to be and--

"Come back to my room?" Steve asks. Their mouths are still pressed together.

"Uh-huh," Eddie answers.

Steve whispers his room number before disappearing back inside. They're in the same hotel, on the same floor, like the universe wants them to keep hooking up. But Steve is being reckless.

Eddie goes to Steve that night with every intention of telling him they need to stop, to slow down, that they're going to get caught and he knows Steve isn't ready, but he doesn't. He doesn't that night and he doesn't two months later when they bump into each other in Venice, or four months after that in New York, or--or --or

It's dangerous, impulsive, too many close calls for them to keep it up and then--and then he's at a house party in the hills, an industry thing, the host is a wannabe big shot producer trying to get in good with the Hollywood elite. Steve is out of town. In Europe filming or maybe Australia for some event or--

Striding through the party, eyes locked on Eddie, and they're in a hallway, in a hallway where anyone could see them, but Steve is kissing him. They're kissing and it's rough and possessive and it stings.

Steve pushes him through double-doors, to the room at their backs, and Eddie wants to protest, to remind him they don't know if it's empty. But Steve is tugging the tie out of Eddie's hair, digging this hands into the now loose curls, and Eddie whines, lets himself be lead.

He's pushed against a table, and in the weak light from the windows, he realizes they're in the dining room. Steve grinds against him, muttering, "missed you so much, baby. God, it's been too long. Need you so bad."

Eddie moans, shifting to press more against Steve. "Missed you too, sweetheart, fuck."

They're kissing and Eddie's high on it, on Steve, can't get enough.

There's a loud burst of laughter outside the door, and reality smashes back into focus.

"Stop," he whispers to Steve.

Steve does in an instant, stepping back. Even in the darkness, Eddie sees the confusion and hurt mingling in the squint of his eyes, his light frown.

"Steve we--this is dangerous. There are people everywhere. Anyone could come in. There's a TMZ guy here, and we--need to be careful."

"Fuck," Steve breathes. "Eddie I--fuck." He presses his hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. "I can't get enough of you, man. Whenever I see you I just--I don't think--I see you and I want you so bad it hurts. Once every few months isn't enough. Hookups aren't enough. And I know that's not what we agreed to, and--"

"Steve," Eddie gently cuts him off. "I'm crazy about you. It hasn't been hookups for me for--" ever, it had never been, but he shakes his head instead of saying that. "But we've been reckless, sweetheart, and I don't want to see you hurt."

"It's not fair to you, though, right? Hiding and sneaking around with me."

"You need time, Steve. You deserve to come out on your terms, when you're ready. And if that means we're not public for a while, then we're not."

"What if I'm never ready?" He whispers. It breaks Eddie's heart, but it's a fair question for a man who got famous as an angelic child star in a series of fantasy-adventure movies before playing a quarterback with a heart-of-gold on the CW for seven seasons. He's always kept up a squeaky clean image, never in trouble, name rarely in the tabloids.

"Then we'll deal with it together."

"Okay," Steve whispers. A smile spreads slow across his face. "I'd like that."

--

Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are seen around town together often. Getting lunch, at parties, shopping. In an interview Steve says that Eddie's his best friend, they do everything together. There's speculation online, of course, but it's pretty quiet. So, they go to premiers and award shows and events together.

A year goes by and it's easy, light, fun. They're in love.

Eddie's messing around on his guitar, not with any intent just for the joy of it. He's on the loveseat in the office of their apartment--their apartment. Steve is in the kitchen, he thinks, or puttering in the garden.

They haven't talked about Steve coming out; haven't needed to.

"Hey," Steve says from the doorway. Eddie jumps.

"Hey yourself."

"It's Bi Visibility day."

"Is it now?" He's not sure where this is going

"I want to come out."

He puts the guitar down. "You sure?"

Steve nods. He doesn't seem nervous, just calm and steady.

"How do you want to do it?"

He crosses the room, climbing onto Eddie's lap, making Eddie laugh. "Works for me." Eddie gives Steve's ass a playful squeeze.

They start kissing then, Steve snapping pics on his phone randomly as they make out.

Steve won't let Eddie peak as he crafts his Insta post, not until it's done and live for his 15 million followers.

The picture he picked, it's a soft kiss, mouths open but lips only just brushing, noses pressed together in a sweet little bump. But the thing about, the thing that makes Eddie's stomach swoop, is the way they're both smiling, the way it's obvious just how in love they are.

Steve's captioned it with the words "Witness Me" and the bi flag.

He pulls his boy into another kiss, says, "Hey,"

"Hmm?" Steve doesn't pull away.

"Wanna go be visibly bisexual with me in the bedroom?"

Steve hops off his lap, strides across the room, turning to flash Eddie a devious smile. "Thought you'd never ask."

[connorsui]

You know, something that I was thinking about while I was walking my way towards my car was how the lads' men would treat you on mothers day with their kids?

Like think about it? — the morning hasn't even started yet, and they are already up and ready for the day before you could even crack a centimeter of your eyelids. and that's not because they didn't bother to wake you up on such an important day…

But because they promised their kiddo, they would serve you breakfast in bed

Like Xavier?... Now you cannot tell me Xavier wouldn't guide his toddler on how to properly stir the pancake batter from the bowl– like this man is patient, gently guiding their tiny hands with his own– he would soften and tender his voice as his baby tells him how much they want their momma to love it – that I even bet you by the time you wake up to the smell of pancakes and fruit on a tray …Xavier is already standing by your bedside with your child proudly presenting their new creation.

“Papa, is this enough?” they ask, holding up a slightly uneven cup of flour. Xavier glances at it, his blue eyes soft with patience.

“A little more,” he murmurs, placing his hand over theirs to guide the pour. “Careful, not too much.”

They continue working together in silence, Xavier focused on making sure everything is perfect, while the child chatters excitedly about surprising you.

“I bet Mama’s going to love this!” they exclaim, cheeks dusted with flour. Xavier’s lips twitch into a small smile, his voice steady as ever.

“She’ll love it because you made it for her.”

Sylus: now we know this man can cook ..and if he could ..he would prepare an entire cuisine that would rival Michelin star restaurants…he can make it basic ..but we all know he won't..it ain't gonna be some cereal with milk and maybe an orange on the side..NAH ..he gonna be wide awake in the morning with your toddler bouncing all over him in the kitchen eager to help at all costs to give you what you deserve – like he would task your baby to give your favorite drink in the morning in a glass cup as he whisks eggs and butter together.

“Daddy, I think I made a mess,” she says, eyes wide with innocence.

Sylus smirks, wiping a streak of flour off her nose with his thumb. “It’s not a mess. It’s art,” he declares, glancing at the bowl of slightly lumpy batter.

She giggles again, bouncing on her toes. “Mommy likes art …right?”

“Yes, she does," Sylus says, his red eyes gleaming with amusement as he pulls the tray together. “But maybe next time, we’ll leave the drinks to me, alright?”

Zayne: …now zayne tho …zayne is a different story ..he always lets his actions speak louder than his words and this is no different like he doesn't need to tell you how much he appreciates you but the gentle way he guides your toddler as they cut fruit says everyyyythingggg — like he would let them take the lead and offering quiet encouragement as your baby carefully cuts another strawberry in half

They frown, concentrating hard as they carefully slice the strawberries, while Zayne watches quietly, offering the occasional word of encouragement. “You’re doing great,” he says, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he slices the melons beside them.

“Is Mama still sleeping?” they ask, their voice soft with excitement.

Zayne nods, his green eyes glowing with quiet pride. “She’ll be surprised when she sees what we’ve made.”

As they finish assembling the fruit salad, Zayne picks up the tray, balancing it carefully with one hand while resting the other on his child’s shoulder. “Ready?” he asks, and they nod eagerly.

When they walk into the room, your child bounces onto the bed, proudly holding up a forkful of fruit. “Mama, look! I helped!”

Zayne sits beside you, his voice low and warm as he says, “Happy Mother’s Day, love. We wanted to make this day special for you.”

Rafayel: …oh my lord ..rafayel ..listen you walk into that kitchen and it's gonna be mess …ur toddler still gonna be smiling in the corner all proud of themselves saying how much they love you and prepared you sum scramble eggs with toast— only for it to be burnt and half baked. Flour is everywhere…the fruits they planned to put together that your toddler suggested they should make a smiley face with the eggs as eyes?? …all over the place. But it doesn't mean the morning went to waste!? – the whole scenery is adorable and filled with affection that you bet Rafayel is still going to say it was made with love.

You wake up to the unmistakable sound of chaos coming from the kitchen. There’s laughter, the clatter of dishes, and... the smell of something burning? You sit up, rubbing your eyes, just as Rafayel strides into the room, a lazy grin on his face and your toddler trailing behind him, still beaming.

“Mama! We made you breakfast!” your toddler shouts, bouncing on their toes with excitement.

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. “Yeah, ‘breakfast’ might be a generous word for it.”

Consui random thoughts

[k-wame]

no you dont understand he's so hot