#that he found at goodwill when he was a kid

[nostalgicfun]

"Obscure Games from My Childhood” | Wallace and Gromit in Project Zoo | (3/7) 🌈

[truckstoptigers]

i feel like i need to tell my sister's mom about what he did

it doesn't sit well with me that there could be a possibility he's hurting her or has hurt her the same way. she's eleven just like i was when it stopped

i feel like i'm responsible because i'm the one that left. i feel like i left her. i left her with him and i didn't look back why didn't i say anything she was so little why didn't i tell?

i don't really believe in god but i pray our father hasn't already done the same to her

i don't know if i could take it

[eccentricallygothic]

| Forbidden Fruit |

Description: Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. 

Pairing: Pedri | Naive Rodrygo's Gf!You. 

Disclaimer: This is merely a fanfic which does not represent anyone mentioned in any way. It contains mature content and morally grey themes so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.  

Warning: Possible angst, infidelity (you), rough sex, unprotected p-in-v, Pedri is mean, doggy style, dirty talk, hair pulling, cunnilingus, Pedri’s beard, Pedri is morally grey, the Barca/La Masia boys are a bunch of meanies, minor exhibitionism, Daddy kink, minor spanking, hair pulling, deep throating. 

Note: I am an outrageous slut.

. 

It was supposed to be a harmless little term; a gesture of goodwill. 

The rivalry had gone on between the two clubs for too long. 

After careful deliberations and many dialogues, you were handpicked as the answer. 

The very private girlfriend of Rodrygo Goes who just happened to be one of the best English instructors available in the country as you had found employment in Spain since you didn't like to depend on others -like your dear boyfriend- too much. 

You.

Plain old little you; 

Gullible, naive, sweet, kind, helpful and passionate towards your profession. 

An attempt at peace, for good. 

Although your boyfriend and his club mates were dubious to let you go into the ‘enemy's’ den, you had innocently assured them that it was your duty as an instructor and that you would be fine since you were a big girl. 

… Until you walked through the doors of the room that had been made into a classroom for you and the relentless younger line like the La Masia boys had you teary-eyed under 10 minutes. 

And so you learnt the hard way that you weren't that big a girl after all.  

Hushed whispers, chuckles, taunts, snickers, anonymous yells and the like were thrown at you one after another. 

“You telling me this little girl will teach us English?” You looked around the many faces to see who it was but Gavi was so quick with his words that his mouth was motionless before you could locate him. 

“Go back to your pretty little white palace Princess!” Your bottom lip quivered as you looked at Fermin and felt betrayed since he had seemed nice enough when you had first entered. 

The laughing was the worst part.

They were loud, fast, cruel and overwhelming. 

Though every cell of your body made you want to rush out of the room, you tightened your laces and raised your chin up high before somehow managing through the rest of the session. 

That, and some kind interventions by the older players and Xavi, of course. 

It was only when you had jumped upon being approached by Pedri while waiting for your ride to arrive had you realized just how badly you still trembled even though the class had ended some long minutes ago. 

“You okay?” He was the only one who had remained completely silent during the entirety of the session, contributing to neither side and remaining aloof in a corner with his dark hawk-like gaze set on you. 

Though you had naively thought it the innocent stare of a student, you lived to learn it had been anything but. 

“Y- Yeah” as if on cue, your bottom lip sensitively wobbled again and Pedri's gaze didn't spare a minute flickering down to the movement. 

His Adam's apple bobbed as he silently gulped, wetting his mouth with his pink tongue as he let out a little sigh. “They're… Just… You… It's not…” One of his hands escaped the pockets of his sweatshirt to run over the back of his head. You quietly stared back with your brows raised curiously. “Don’t take them too seriously. They like to play around and sometimes they get real rough real fast” a small smile made its way onto your face. He felt responsible for them and was considerate of your feelings. “But it's not coming from a bad place, honest. They're just stupid kids is all” what a sweet guy, you thought. 

If only. 

You didn't know how it escaped your notice.

It wasn't like he didn't make it obvious. 

Always making it a point to visit you after sessions, staying with you until your driver arrived, seeing you off, sometimes leaning a bit too close or letting his friendly touch on your arm linger for a bit too long. 

But it was still all fun and games until one day he declared that he wanted to return the favor by teaching you some useful things in return. 

He had realized from the way you spoke of your relationship that you weren't much experienced and so you were sweetly content with whatever your tender lover gave you.

Of course, you panicked at first when you found yourself being backed against a table in a dark little storage room after you had skeptically agreed to the offer, whimpering next to the intimidating guy who always stared at you like a predator despite your friendship 

“Don't you want to learn how to make him feel good too? Or are you a selfish little girl who only wants to take and take but never give back?” Your bottom lip jutted out at his mean words. 

“O- Of course not!” You huffed, feeling the blood boil under your cheeks. “I am n- not like that! Who doesn't want to make their partner feel good?!” 

You weren't that stupid. 

You knew exactly what he was doing. 

And though you pretended to be outraged by the proposition at first, you were equally -if not more- excited to have his body on yours. 

So you let him teach you.

And boy, did the guy know how to fuck. 

His thick, hard and veiny cock felt hot and arousing in your fist that day as he nearly devoured your face with his mouth. 

Pedri took his sweet time with you by going one step at a time.

Carefully molding and shaping you according to his tastes to make of you the perfect little fucktoy. 

“Yeah, baby. Just like that, such a good girl” his voice would always deepen so dangerously low as he would often dip his head down so his warm lips would move against your ear. “Such a fast little learner, aren't you? So enthusiastic to learn how she can be good for her Daddy” that was the name he had chosen for himself since he couldn't be called your man.

You weren't sure if he even wanted to.

It was wrong. 

So, so fucking wrong. 

Unfair.

But it felt good. 

He felt good. 

Great. 

Immaculate.

Pedri taught you how to give, same as he taught you how to take.

“That’s a proper little girl right there” he grunted when he taught you how to ‘properly’ suck cock for the first time. “Just like that baby, tip that pretty little head back for Daddy” his manly hands that had gathered all your hair in a makeshift ponytail gently tugged you back to grant himself better access to your throat. “That's it,” though he was good at remaining calm and composed, you could hear the breathlessness in his voice. Your insides burnt hotter and you felt yourself clench, hollowing your cheeks as you curled your fingers around his muscular thighs while your other hand fondled his heavy ball sack. “You're a natural, aren't you, baby?” Your eyes filled with tears when you finally moved northwards and let the whole length of his cock disappear between your flushed, swollen lips.  

Your nostrils flared and your lungs churned for air, the lack of it causing your head to spin when Pedri didn't let up and instead began to give short and powerful thrusts to the fleshy channel of your slippery throat. Your head began to cloud and your thoughts started to float around just like his seed did everywhere in your oral cavity when he came. 

The internet people could say whatever they wanted. 

His beard and stubble eras were your personal favorite.

Because the coarse facial hairs felt so good against your tender skin. 

Like when Pedri once had you twisted outwards as your body writhed on the table of the storage room you had become well acquainted with at this point, legs trapped in his arms that he had looped around them to hold you firmly in place. 

The length of his devious tongue swiped across your worked up folds to lap at the mess you had made, beard digging into the soft skin of your inner thighs as the coarse hairs dragged against the junctions of your hips and legs every time his jaw flexed to eat you better. A loud moan forced its way past your reluctant lips when you felt a nerve twitch in one of your sides. 

“That's it, sweet girl. Just like that” your toes curled at the huskiness of his voice while your fingers tightened around his thick dark locks. “Let me hear those pretty moans” as if on cue, your body complied and your back arched even more when the pointy tip of his tongue prodded against your entrance. “That's it, baby. Tell me who is making you feel this good?” Your ears burnt hot as sweat trickled down one of your temples, heart heavily thumping in your chest. 

Though you were barely coherent, you knew better than to ignore his command. 

“Y- You are, Da– AH!” Your eyes widened and your palm slapped against your mouth in an attempt to stifle your delirious moans when he released one of your thighs only to intrude your tight little pussy with his fingers, the grainy muscle of his tongue toying with your clit all the while. 

“That's fucking right” he let out between slurps and sucks, occasionally making you jump and whine whenever you would get too quiet by landing a cruel spank directly onto your sensitive folds. 

Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. 

You had always thought it no more than a harmless little proverb. 

Until you learnt its accuracy firsthand.

When you were pressed face down against the same table that had witnessed the entire affair of your infidelity to your lover one dark evening. Your arms were spread out wide besides you as one of your cheeks rubbed against the smooth wooden surface with each powerful thrust that was pounding its way into your leaking pussy. Your lips were parted and a small puddle of drool lay next to them as you lazily whined each time a spank was delivered onto one of your ass cheeks, your body violently shaking due to the speed at which his cock was pistoning in and out of you. 

Pedri had made you feel things no one ever had, there was no doubt about that. 

But the intensity with which your orgasm ripped itself out of you and you were nearly deprived of all your senses due to the immense pleasure when the door suddenly opened and Pedri wrapped his hand around your hair to pull your head upwards to make you face the person who nonchalantly stared at you with glossy eyes had your limbs trembling in what you could only describe as the best way you had ever known. 

You lost track of time as you mindlessly let yourself get fucked while staring directly at Rodrygo who had decided to receive you himself that day only to find you bent over for Pedri in a storage room. Sensuous groans and gasps were all you could let out as the faint realization -due to your dimmed faculties- of how this looked only made you clench harder. 

The visitor eventually left you two alone all to your nefarious activities with no words exchanged and the door closer allowed you privacy again until the man in charge decided he was done with you for the day. 

When upon finally coming to your senses you began to panic, your head was patted condescendingly in that peculiar manner of his. “That's not for you to worry your pretty little head about.” And then he fixed your disheveled outfit before taking you for himself. 

.

Man, I am so out of practice. 

[harveywritings92]

[PART 2 OF THIS]

[After R/n’s calamitous phone call attempt to Simon, she ran a good five blocks before she felt safe enough to breath and think of a plan.]

R/n, sitting on a curb: okay...okay, I really regret not going to the gym with Si now....Shit!

{She swallows hard and looks behind her, the people chasing her were probably a two blocks away that only gave her small window of time.}

R/n: Okay, R/n. You managed to get, ah... Some distance from the guys chasing you, that’s the first thing Simon you told to do...Now next would be to find a place to hide, too bad it’s too freaking sunny out to do so!

R/n: And I can’t hide in plain sight since they know what clothes I’m wearing...

{R/n looks around and recognizes what street she’s on, there was goodwill shop across the street from her, she quickly got up and ran inside; knowing the van was probably around the block.]

R/n: Okay...they’re finding me a bit fast for comfort...

(R/n thinks and looks at her purse/mini-backpack...Could there be a tracker in it? she didn’t dwell on it too long, R/n quickly grabbed some pants a large hoodie, a hat and neck gaiter. she quickly ditched her old clothes and bag; taking just her wallet with her. R/n practically threw the money at the confused clerk as she speed walked passed the checkout.]

Clerk: Wait! ma’am, your change!

R/n, not looking back: Keep it! 

(R/n pulls the hood and neck gaiter up and walks out the back. she exits the alley in time to see the van pull up and two men rush into the good will. the y/ht(your height), woman knew they were not gonna be happy when they find R/n was long gone, and with that R/n calmly walked away towards a more populated area and hopefully she can get ahold of a phone so she can get through to Ghost this time!)

(Meanwhile)

[Ghost and the rest of the 1-4-1 arrived to his house, which was completely trashed, Ghost looked around his livingroom frowning under his mask as he found his wedding photo on the floor. it wasn’t some grand fancy event,  just a small court house wedding with your parents/guardian and couple of your friends, Ghost stomach churned at the memory.

Despite him being the one who proposed in the first place, Simon had tried to talk R/n outta of it...He warned her, he warned her that if they went through with it; R/n would be a walking target, she wouldn’t have a normal life anymore and yet... She still said yes.)

Soap, as he looks at the photo over Ghost’s shoulder: Steamin’ Jesus, he wasn’t fookin wit’ me, he really is married!...(to Price.) Did ye know?

Price: I knew he had a wife. That’s about it, Ghost doesn’t really speak about his home life much.

[Then everyone looked around the house it was clear someone was looking for something...and judging how a good number of Ghost and R/n’s valuables were left out on the dining room table, they were probably coming back...or. 

*The stairs creaked* 

They never left...Everyone freezes as a young man in his late teens to early twenties dressed all in black comes walking down the stairs; talking loudly. He probably assumed the 1-4-1 were his buddies coming back for him and their loot.]

Robber, while holding R/n’s jewelry box: Jeez, you guys took yer sweet time how hard is it to catch a woma...*Sees the group of giant armed men staring at him.* ...aaan?

Ghost: Don’t you fucking move...

[the Robber throws the box at them and tries to bolt out the backdoor! He gets clotheslined by Gaz who was camping around the corner. Cut to the kid being tied to a chair as Ghost stands over him menacingly]

Ghost, cracking his knuckles: Now...Let’s get acquainted shall we?~

[heckyeahponyscans]

One of the benefits of vending at real-life toy shows is you get to chat with real-life people. I complimented a guy's shirt and found out there are marble racing leagues, I helped a guy track down some Shopkins because the ones belonging to his daughter (now a college grad) had accidentally been donated to Goodwill and she was nostalgic for them, and I learned that the vintage action figure of Allura is still one of the few toys she's had.

I also talked with a woman who asked if I had any Cabbage Patch Kids in my booth. (I did not.) She said, "I had one as a child and I always wonder . . ." She smiled, looking across the booths full of toys.

She got her Cabbage Patch doll in 1983, the year of "the craze". They were THE big toy. No modern toy that can compare to that phenomenon. Parents were getting into fistfights over these dolls, buying them from scalpers, or standing in long lines.

The woman at my booth said her aunt was the one who stood in a long line to get her a Cabbage Patch doll; she smiled as she described the doll, she obviously remembered it so well.

Then she said: "I used markers to give her makeup. I wanted to make her beautiful, but my father didn't see it that way. He saw it as me ruining the doll that it took so much effort to get. In anger, he threw it in the trash right in front of me."

She kept smiling wistfully as she was talking, without any apparent ire, even though after all these years she was at a toy show "wondering" about her doll.

As a collector, I love finding a mint condition toy. But when I was a child I cut holes in the vintage baby doll diapers (because I didn't like baby dolls but did like stuffed animals) and I gussied up Little Red Riding Hood's hair with streaks of eyeshadow that never washed out. I do not think it is possible for a child to "ruin" a toy. (Unless they make it physically unsafe to be around).

The purpose of a toy is to bring a child joy, fun, and help them grow. Sometimes that will mean dolls with cut hair, action figures dramatically buried in a grave after an imaginary battle, or, yes, Magic Marker makeup on dolls "to make them look beautiful." And if a child regrets what they did to a toy, that too helps them grow. Learning that a doll's hair, once cut, remains cut forever is such a mild and safe way to learn the importance of foresight.

For an adult looking back on childhood, it can seem idyllic. But one of the main experiences of childhood is a lack of control over your own life.

But a child should at least have control over their toys.

Adults: if you want to guarantee that precious toy you spent so much money on stays pristine . . . buy it for yourself and put it on your own shelf. It is not a child's job to be a caretaker to an object for twenty years.

I hope that lady finds her Cabbage Patch doll.

[rayshippouuchiha]

For the tsunami au

I really like the idea of Naruto being curious, and kind of like asking nudging questions towards Zabuza and Haku 

Asking where the name Uzumaki (his name his mothers name, not that he knows that yet) came from, where his clan (he has a clan) comes from ,out and away from the listening ears of his sensei and teammates, asking for stories and details and *answers* that he would never be able to get from Konoha. Not trusting (never trusting he’s been hurt too much) but hoping that for once his questions will have answers that they won’t just be ignored.

That Zabuza will see another child (like Haku) lost and hurting and well not take him in (Konoha would never allow it) but just fill the void that his sensei (to filled with grief to look pass the ghosts clouding his vision) and teammates (a boy stuck in a cycle of fear and hatred, and a girl who has not found herself yet) have never tried to fill.

I just desperately want Naruto to get some answers even if they have to come from a missing-nin when it should have come from people who care and love him

~🐍

If Naruto was to start probing Zabuza for Answers you had best believe Zabuza would give them.

Because look, Zabuza isn't stupid enough to think that he'll be able to make off with the kid, not here where the brat's blood is strongest, not with Hatake looking a little more on edge with each passing moment Zabuza spends around the little fishcake.

But ,,,

But it's too good of a chance to pass up. Not only as a way to get a subtle sort of fuck you over on both Hatake and Konoha as a whole but to garner some goodwill with the kid.

With, as far as Zabuza knows, one of the Last Known Uzumaki.

Plus Haku is fond of the brat, not that Zabuza is taking that too far into account of course.

And it never hurts to build connections, especially to someone whose sympathy to them and their cause might one day actually mean something.

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

“This is fuckin’ boring,” Mickey complained. Ian shot him a look and shushed him. 

Ian had gone through a Goodwill bin to rummage through for a nice toy to give to Yev. He found a small wooden train set and a few little action figures to go along with it. Yev was delighted by it and played with it all the time. 

“Mickey,” Ian said scoldingly. 

“Quit your whining. Ain't gonna traumatize the kid or anything.” 

“Daddy, here,” Yev handed him a blue train. Then he pointed at which track Mickey was supposed to push it along. “You go there, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Mickey mumbled, and did what he'd said. Except, it just must not have been good enough because Yev frowned. 

“Daddy,” he said in a voice not unlike how Ian's had just been. “You didn't do it right.” 

“The fuck you mean I didn't do it right?” Mickey said, exasperated. 

“You have to do it again,” Yev said firmly, or as firm as a five year old could be. When Mickey didn't respond fast enough, he decided to bring in the reinforcements. “Ian, can you make Daddy do it again?” 

Mickey rolled his eyes as this set off Ian into laughter. “Fuckin' fine.” He repeated the action, looking unimpressed at his son. “Fucking happy now?” 

“It'll have to do,” Yev heaved a sigh. 

Mickey playfully glared at him. “Smartass.” 

Yev pushed his own train along the tracks, making explosive sounds under his breath. It was kinda cute, Mickey had to admit. He’d never had the chance to be like this at his son’s age so there was some part of him glad that Yev was able to experience this for himself. 

The train came to a stop with Yev contemplating what to do next. On either side of the tracks there were little action figures laying there. 

“Which way do you wanna go, Yevy?” Ian asked. 

Yev’s face scrunched up, then he took the one action figure laying on the left side to bring it to the right side of the tracks. Mickey assumed he’d push the train that way now. 

Except all he did was ram it straight into the action figures on the right side, making them scatter on the floor. 

“They’re dead!” He exclaimed happily. 

Ian laughed. Mickey was trying to suppress his own laughter. “Why did you kill them?” 

“They owed me money,” Yev said matter-of-factly. “They didn’t pay up and now they’re dead.” Fuck yeah, Mickey was grinning. Probably not the shit you’re supposed to do but what the fuck ever. 

Ian sighed, long and heavy. Mickey’d remind him later that he couldn’t really be surprised, could he? “Like father, like son,” he said dryly. 

[rumor-weed]

JOHN MULANEY STARTER PROMPTS

Kid Gorgeous Edition.

“He was a man most acquainted with misery.”

“None of that matters, but it's important to me that you know that.”

“He did not look like his job description.”

“He looked like he should be the conductor on a locomotive powered by confetti.”

“But, instead, he made his living in murder.”

“He was the weirdest goddamn person I ever saw in my entire life.”

“He could look at a child and guess the price of their coffin.”

“Shut up! You're all gonna die. Street Smarts!"”

“You remember the scourge of muggings when you were in second and third grade.”

"Man, I need cash for drugs right now.”

“Okay, you can get these at any haberdashery.”

“Buy a money clip. Engraved, question mark?”

“Hey, Dad. Can I have a silver money clip with a $50 bill in it, please?” (Or sub “dad” for character name, if you’re a coward)

“The man with the mustache told me to do it.”

“Let's say a kidnapper throws you in the back of a trunk.”

“You kids have no upper body strength.”

“Yeah, he was not a "spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down" kind of guy.”

“Brush your teeth. Now, boom, orange juice. That's life.”

“Fight the guy off using weird, psych-out, back-room Chicago violence.”

“I chewed up a tab of Alka-Seltzer I carry with me at all times. This created a foaming-at-the-mouth appearance that made it look like I had rabies.”

“Now I've thrown him off his rhythm.”

“Okay. Your odds of coming back alive from the primary location, about 60%. But if you are taken to a secondary location, your odds of coming back alive are slim to none.”

“I am 35 years old and I am still terrified of secondary locations.”

“Nah, sister. You're not getting me to no secondary location.”

“I thought I was going to be murdered my entire childhood.”

“Top three colleges? I thought I would be dead in a trunk with my hand hanging out of the taillight by now.”

“I just got a letter from my college, which was fun 'cause mail, you know?”

“So then I had to speed to Goodwill really fast.”

“It was charitable, but it was also fast and violent.”

“I was throwing boxes at people. The boxes were so heavy I couldn't even say what was in them.”

“This one's shirts. I got a bunch of shirts! Take 'em away!"

“How do I write that on my taxes?”

“My mom said it could be a sleep shirt. Please deduct this from my 2017 income.”

“So rather than violate these meaningless politeness rules, I'll just go to bed in a smock like goddamn Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“I'll tremble off to bed in my long Victorian nightgown.”

“Was there ever even a ghost, Mother, or was the dead Victorian girl you saw just me all along?”

“And that's why you shouldn't give to charity.”

“I found out recently that jokes don't do well in court.”

"Hey, that lawsuit with my neighbor is still dragging on.”

“Hey, do you want me to kill that guy for you? Because it sounds like he sucks and I will totally kill that guy for you.”

“Okay. See you at improv practice.”

“Strange, the passage of time.”

“I'm not that old. I'm 35, that is not old.”

“I never knew about this, but I am now gross.”

[nicolesainz]

Darling (JB 22)

Jenson Button x f!reader (Mark Webbers Daughter)

A/N: Ya’ll can blame the Brawn Doc (which btw was great, go check it out)

Summary: A little visit to your dad’s old friend after the Goodwill festival wouldn’t hurt,right?

Warnings: minors dni, +18, suggestive smut, edging, fingering, p! in v!, age gap (reader is 22)

“Hey Jense, would you mind keeping an eye on her? Missus and I will fly back to Australia but she’s staying here for a friend’s party”

My father would’ve never let me stay in a hotel. It had to be Jenson. Out of all his friends, all the people in the fucking UK, it had to be him.

And reminded that I’m 22. Not underage. And I can legally drink, thank you very much.

“Of course mate. I have a spare room she can use. I’ll barely be home this weekend.” It was the British Grand Prix and he is a presenter for Sky Sports, hence why he won’t be around.

To be fair, I only watch the post race show just to admire him. But my dad doesn’t need to know that, or Jenson himself. He doesn’t have to know how handsome he is or how smart he sounds given his knowledge in Formula One.

What’s more attractive than that?

And the fact that I have secret screenshots of his shots in my phone, but again, no one needs to know.

“Let me get her luggage full of god knows what type of dresses. I don’t even know when she bought them!”

"I hope you know how old I am, dad" I roll my eyes at his comment as Jenson lets out a small giggle, earning a death glare from my dad.

"Before she leaves the house, please make sure to see what she's wearing. And if there are any boys in sight." my dad warns him, as if I am going to enroll myself in the army and fight the enemy, which to him, would've been more preferable compared to a party.

"Got it. We definitely know that you think she's 17" Jenson replies and my mother laughs along, as I try not to burst out.

"If you side with Y/N, I will break your Porche." My dad's voice raise and I glance at Jenson who has a look plastered on his face as if he was offended and scared by the threat.

"I have kids myself, I think she's going to be safe with me. Come on Mark! I was the only driver you never crashed with, kinda." He takes the luggage away from my mother's hands and waves them goodbye as I go and hug them.

"Take care kiddo and if you need anything, im a call away. Also if you want to go to the paddock, the passes are under my name" he kisses my head after having me squeezed in a tight hug.

"Y-yes dad, I know. Now please let me go because I cant breathe."

"Sorry" he sets me free and I join Jenson's side. God he's tall and broad.

"Alright now, shall we?" he looks down at me and I nod, unable to utter a single word, even though I've know him my whole life.

The boys in my university were dying to hear stories with the senior formula one drivers, coming from a daughter of one. It's a nice feeling to narrate all the success and glory of this sport.

"Seriously though, your bag is very light. Are you even carrying anything in here?" Jenson asks, weighing up and down my luggage, flexing his muscles as I try not to drool all over the place.

"Only necessities. Dresses, shoes, makeup, few outfits for the race and condoms." the last one quite shocked him but also was a way of teasing him, given my major crush.

"You have condoms, yet I didn't hear you say panties"

"Won't be needing any"

"And why is that, may I ask?"

"Cause I like to be free. More access and more fun" I wink at him and I stare at his lips, a smirk is growing as each word is leaving mine.

"So you are telling me, that right now, underneath this short but nonetheless breathtaking dress, no panties are worn?"

I get closer to him and whisper softly in his ear:

"Wanna see for yourself?"

Honestly, don't ask me where I found this much confidence and especially with someone twice my age. And a friend of my dad's.

"Behave yourself darling" he coughs lightly to clear his throat and grabs me by the waist, so my dress doesn't float from the summer breeze.

"And what if I don't want you, Mr. Button?"

"Then you'll wish you had never said that" he growls and immediately opens me the door to his McLaren.

When he gets in the drivers seat, he wastes no time and gets on the road instantly. During the ride, there's a comfortable silence filling the atmosphere, until the air coming out of Jenson's window pulls up my dress and his hand quickly falls on my thigh, holding it down once more.

Jenson decides to roll up his window but his hand remains on my thigh and this time, is holding it firmly and starts caressing it from the inside.

Soft sighs leave my mouth, but controlling them is inevitable when his touch was all I have been craving since I turned 18. His foot hits the gas harder, speeding and driving in between the other slower cars. He reminds me of the Jenson back in his Brawn days and I can feel myself pooling just at the thought.

It was the very right time when his hand cupped my bare pussy, feeling the wetness caused by barely a thought of him. The slight touch of his fingers on my trembling self has my knees going paralyzed. I feel like crying from pleasure and yet I don't even know if he's doing that on purpose to embarrass me or if he's actually enjoying it too.

"Oh baby, you're definitely not behaving yourself" he says as his index finger draws circles around my clit. My legs are clenching his hand inside me as the other one holds the steering wheel, looking at his knuckles that have turned white.

"Jenson" I breathe out and moan simultaneously as he starts pumping two fingers inside me fiercely, letting myself to his mercy and unable to react.

"This behavior will have consequences young lady. I warned you" he lets a soft kiss on the crock of my neck and feeling his beard scratching it, I go absolutely insane.

"Then punish me sir" I blurt out without thinking and Jenson drives in seconds at the spot in front of his house, stops the car and places me on top of his lap with just one hand.

Jenson's lips crash into mine without wasting a second as his fingers play with my uncontrollably wet pussy. The feeling of moaning is surely necessary and I don't hold back. My tongue dances with his and the kiss gets deeper like his fingers, hitting perfectly my soft spot.

"You are going to be the death of me" Jenson says as his mouth falls on my neck, sucking it off like there's no tomorrow. My hands try to unbuckle his belt and eventually make it to the part where I can feel his erection growing. It's true what they say, older men do it better.

In other instances I would have been furious, but Jenson ripping my dress, just so he can have better access at my breasts is incredibly hot. I don't care that I am left vulnerable at his sight. At this I was pleading it.

My breast hurt from his kisses and I know in a few hours small red dickies will be covering the surface. My fingers decide to trace the shape of his thick cock but I can tell he wants to feel me. I have teased him and he me, for way too long.

"If you keep being naughty I won't let you cum, dear" a groan escapes his body as I take his length in my hands and caress the veins that have popped out.

"Then I want you to fill me up with your cum" I take him by surprise and I can sense his heartbeat raising from worry. He regards me as something innocent, precious and fragile. Which I am. But I feel ready and I am.

"Are you sure? I mean, have you? Uh? Had sex before?"

"I-uh-well, no. But-"

"Baby we can't do it here. You don't deserve to have your first time on a car. You deserve to be worshipped."

Jenson's words make me blush and my heart was flattering as if I was a fifteen years old again, simply watching him race and get multiple podiums.

He looks around and opens the door of his house and then quickly rushes with me inside and shuts it with such force, my legs started trembling.

Suddenly, he picks me up and carries me all the way to his bedroom. A dark room filled with some of his most iconic trophies and with his smell that has been covering my entire body since the moment I entered his car.

He turns on the soft baby lights on the bedrest and takes a look at my flushed self, covered with hickies he's gifted me. His eyes scan me from head to toe as if he's about to feast.

"I want you to tell me to stop whenever you feel uncomfortable in any way." He kisses me softly and I nod my head, knowing that he would never hurt anyone.

Jenson stands up and with his strong arms parts my legs so he can have a clear vision of my already swollen womanhood. My breast are half showing from inside my bra and my lips are bitten to the core. I am a mess but he seems to like it.

He removes his shirt in quick motions revealing his god like crafted body with the hints of dark ink covering his lower v and shoulder. I had never seen them before and I am was very pleased with what was in front of my eyes.

It doesn't take him too long to strip off his trousers and be left with simply his boxers that were trying to hold in his hardened cock and my patience as well. They were giving me a preview of what was about to happen.

As Jenson lowered his body his hands were hoisting down his boxers, revealing himself and it wasn't just my mouth that was drooling but also my pussy.

His hands now were on the insides of my thighs, holding them fiercely, whilst mine were hanging around his neck. I felt like my heart was about t burst out of my chest.

"Are you ready baby?"

I was at loss for words so I gave him a final kiss for reassurance that he could continue.

In slow motions, he lowered even more and started inserting himself inside me, pumping slowly as I was trying to get used to his size. My cries were out of control as Jenson was deepening himself and my pussy was stretched to its limits.

"Jesus, you're clenching me so well darling" he breathed out and I tried to open my legs wider for his pleasure. Jenson was panting on the hem of my neck and upping the pace of his thrusts.

"Dear lord this feels so good" It feels better than good. As if I am in the seventh heaven. I don't think any man will ever make me experience this. And I don't think I want to either.

"Say that again" he demands with a harder thrust, hitting my G-spot, earning the biggest moan of the night, echoing at the entire house.

"You make me feel so damn good Jenson" I gulp hard as I try to catch my breath and scratch his back from the pain that this gives me.

"And I shall be the only one darling" he hoists me up and removes my bra with a single movement, freeing my breasts and enjoying the sight, as they are bouncing up and down along with the trusts.

"Only you Jenson" I scream his name as loud as I can and his chest fills with pride as I am reaching my height.

"Cum sweetheart. Let go" I can't hold it in much longer and I cum all over his cock. He doesn't remove himself from inside me and I don't want to. This felt so right even though for some it's very wrong.

"That was, perfect" I say in a whispering manner as I am unable to speak louder. I am so wasted but full of thrill.

"You deserve it. You deserve to be treated like that dear"

[renmedys]

SAY HELLO TO THE ANGELS

higuruma hiromi has killed for the first time and it makes him think of you. (or: now that he has killed, higuruma realizes that his condemnation of you those many years ago was, perhaps, wrong.)

pairing: higuruma hiromi/reader warnings: description of violence & murder, reader is a lil crazy words: 1.7k notes: title namesake is interpol's "say hello the angels"

HIGURUMA thinks of you often. At the heart of all his tolerance and patience and pro-bono work that he does, it’s you who reminds him that there are people worth saving. It’s you who reminds him that protecting the weak and fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves is a noble way of life. It is precisely because of people like you, who show no remorse or shame for the crimes they perpetrate, that he can continue to believe in those who are truly innocent. 

He had… disliked you, the first you met. Hate is too strong a word, and Higuruma makes a point to try and not hate his clients. He remembers being baffled by who you presented yourself to be, there in the detention center, a wall of glass between you. 

When he pulled the chair out, you’d looked up from inspecting your nails, around your wrists a pair of handcuffs that chained you to the table. He knows now that you could’ve broken free of those confines with ease. He saw your eyes rake over Higuruma’s neat suit and pristine appearance until they landed on his face. He watched your eyes flit about in the slightest of  circular movements, tracing the dark circles that had started to build beneath his eyes.

“You’re my lawyer?” you had said with a scornful laugh. 

Higuruma only sighed as he sat down, flipping open the case file he had brought along with him. “(l/n) (y/n),” he read, skimming through it. “You are charged with the murder of three adults and two children at 5:28 PM on March 23. I’ve reviewed your case, and I recommend that your course of action—”

“You think I did it, don’t you?”

Higuruma raises his gaze to yours. You have a crooked grin sitting on your face and a knowing look that makes Higuruma feel like you see right through him. It makes his skin crawl.

“No, I—”

“That’s alright, Mr. Rookie Lawyer,” you chirp. “I did do it. So I’m going to plead guilty.” Higuruma blinked, at a loss for words. “I killed them,” you say again, as if Higuruma didn’t hear you the first time, smiling without a care in the world. “I just wasn’t expecting to get caught.”

Your lawyer’s face was struggling to remain stoic, and you found that notion strangely pleasurable. Behind his eyes, you could tell that he was disgusted with you.

“Why?” he finally asked.

“I wanted to,” you shrugged. “I thought it’d be fun.”

“That’s it?”

“I thought it would make me happy,” you told him, “and isn’t that what life is? The pursuit of happiness.”

“For reasons like that,” he says slowly, “you murdered five people.”

“You look like you don’t know two things about happiness, Mr. Lawyer,” you said, wagging a finger at him. “You can look down on me all you want, but even you can see the difference between us. You’re not happy in that line of work, are you? It’s cute, you know, seeing these public servants preaching goodwill. What brought you to the law, Mr. Lawyer? Vocational calling? Were you one of those kids who thought you could make the world a better place? Did you think you’d be the valiant hero who defends the people wrongly accused? I bet you’re just overjoyed to be defending people like me—”

“Enough.”

Higuruma wanted to leave. The pressure of your gaze and corruption of your soul were the reason his job was so unbearable sometimes. He couldn’t fathom what you were saying. To kill for pleasure, for happiness—sure, he knows that people are twisted and have sick urges, but you believe your worlds so wholly that he cannot be sure any longer that these ideas can be boiled down to delusion. Perhaps some people are, at their core, just horrible beyond repair. 

“You can plead guilty,” he had said, standing to leave. He was wrong to take your case, no matter how desperate he was to get his practice off the ground. He had read your file, and assumed you were one of those people caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. After all, who would think on first glance you had the capacity to rip out the hearts of three men and tear apart the bodies of two children? Yet after speaking to you, he realized he was wrong—and even if he wanted to believe, even if he knew defending you was the right thing to do, he could not deny that somewhere deep inside he despised you. “We’ll try and figure out a way to reduce your sentence. You can tell me the order of events in detail another time.”

But he never got the chance to see you again, because the next day he was served with a notice that you’d requested a new lawyer. Your case was open-shut, and the trial lasted barely an hour. He wondered how you could’ve ever been happy perpetrating violence.

Until now, years later, as his client is staring at him with contempt after all of Higuruma’s efforts and sleepless nights scrounging for evidence that would prove his innocence, he hadn’t a clue of what you meant about happiness. This case isn’t his fault. Higuruma Hiromi is not to blame for the gavel that is about to hand down his client’s sentence. The anger and hatred for the actions of higher authorities he is subjected to is not deserved. A man he worked tirelessly for, a man he believed in, a man for whose sake he had shown time and time again he would not give up on now looks at him with a stare that is icier than yours, and it fills him with a rage Higuruma doesn’t know how to calm. The ramblings of the court proceedings turn into garbled static as blood rises to his head. When he hears silence, Higuruma stands and demands a retrial on the spot.

In that moment, he wonders if killing them would make him happy.

HIGURUMA finds you in the same prison he first met you. The Culling Games had begun not long ago, and it’d been mere hours since he spent all his points on a new rule and transferred the remainder to Itadori Yuuji. Now that the onslaught of aggressors out for his life finally seemed to calm, he resumed his search for your whereabouts. The prison is within the boundaries of the colony he’s currently in, and when he arrives he finds the grounds desecrated by blood and ravaged bodies. He sees the decapitated head of a guard lying on the stone floor. For you to have survived—and he’s sure you have—you must be a strong jujutsu sorcerer. That makes your easy submission to the conviction of your crime those many years ago all the more puzzling.

In the chaos, most of the convicts escaped. Higuruma walks through empty hallways and pries open jammed doors, climbing over fallen rubble. He had half expected you to be gone as well, but he finds you in one of the cells, lying on the floor. With your hands behind your head, you look as if you’re on a grassy hill cloud watching, eyes closed in content.

“It wasn’t you,” is the first thing Higuruma says to you. This much is now clear with his newfound abilities.

“No,” you hum. “It was the curse I was there for.”

It makes more sense that way. “Are you one of them?” he asks. “Those sorcerers?”

You laugh. “No, no. Not for a long time now. Since even before I met you.”

“Ah.”

“So, why seek me out, Mr. Lawyer? You need some wisdom in this new world of yours?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I wanted to ask you something.”

You crack open an eye to peek at him. “I think I can guess what about.”

“Why did you plead guilty? You didn’t do it.”

Shrugging, you feel your shoulders brush against the concrete. “I wanted to see what it would be like.”

“That’s all?” he asks quietly.

“Isn’t wanting to enough justification?” you ask. Then you click your tongue. “I guess maybe not to a lawyer.”

“But you’re innocent.”

“For that crime, maybe. But I’ve killed before, for the same reasons I told you back then. And what about you, Mr. Lawyer? Are you still innocent?”

Higuruma lowers himself to the floor, sitting against a chunk of rock outside your cell. “No,” he says quietly. “No, I’m beyond saving, I think. When this is all over, I’m going to turn myself in.”

“Now why would you do that?” you tut, and Higuruma thinks it’s ironic you’d say that. Despite the ceiling and walls of your confines being blown apart and merely the remains of a wreckage, you act as though you are still trapped, not leaving. You’ve also willingly turned yourself in. 

“You've killed people too, (y/n)-san.”

“Plenty,” you confirm.

“I couldn’t understand you back then, when you said that you thought it might make you happy.”

“You still can’t, Mr. Lawyer.” His eyebrows raise slightly. “When you killed those people, how did you feel?”

You sit up now, turning your body towards him. Higuruma knows you’re a killer, and he figures that you could probably kill him in the blink of an eye. There’s no fear, though. He feels strangely calm in your presence, and it reminds him of all the cases he fought where he thought back to you. People who do not want to be saved cannot be. So all the other clients he had over the years, who pleaded innocent and needed someone to trust them—Higuruma knew that there was a chance for them to be absolved. You taught him that.

His eyes fall to the floor. “It felt awful.”

You let out a gentle laugh, retreating into the corner as you lay back down on the concrete, rolling onto your side so that your back faces Higuruma. “Then there’s still hope for you yet, Higuruma. You’re a lawyer, aren’t you? Protecting the weak is your job. Go.”

Higuruma seems somewhat moved by your words, and it is the first time he hears his name in your voice. He stands and dusts himself off. “After this, (y/n)-san, what will you do?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” you tell him. “I’ll stay here, probably. At least until the games are over.”

“I’ll come back,” Higuruma then says, and this time it is his turn to catch you by surprise.

“Why bother?”

Higuruma’s lips curve upward slightly. “I just want to,” he says, and the sound of his fading footsteps make you wish that perhaps you had lived a more righteous life.

[atsucry]

Beyond the Thorn Vines

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝐈𝐈

Malleus Draconia x gn!reader

warnings: Incredibly boring. Actually this chap is jst like PURELY info dump so like if ch. 4 is out you can like siim over this and move on. COUGH COUGH this was made on a deadline.

content warning: none

3:12 pm, Royal Sword Academy. Dorm room

"Could you stop it with that?!" You reprimanded your friend, balling your fist and slamming it down on the bed by the side of your lap. As you read, Che'nya has been swishing his tail back and forth nonstop over the book and flipping the pages.

He laid floating above your canopy bed, enjoying the elevation over ground. And when he bent backwards to face you; it was an uncanny sight.

"You've been analysing that for a while now, don't tell me you have trouble with comprehending the material!" The cat snickered.

"Ya know…you could ask for my help," he suggested. "If you want!"

You slouched back into your pillow, holding the book open over your stomach. "Oh please, you'd word it as more complicated than it already is." You hadn’t noticed, but your eyebrow started slightly twitching.

Taking a double look at the page, you found that you still hadn't understood it, not one bit! It had messed with your head all morning, that or it was just Che'nya's interruptions.

The feline flipped over on his stomach and looked at you with owlish eyes, resting his head in folded arms. "Hm, Tomorrow's Magi-shift against NRC. You comin' to watch or are ya just gonna watch from the sidelines?"

"Ugh," you let your head drop to the side. "but the headaches…" You grumbled in displeasure. It was one of those headaches that would feel like knives that stabbed into your cranium. An awful one Indeed. You swear that one of these days you would pass out from the severity, though, hopefully not sooner or later.

"I'll get ya headphones if the whole stadium is too loud—!"

"It's not the noise!" You shouted in a whisper. Somehow you could never watch past anything near the championship round, so you never really saw who the winners were. Though you were certain that it was always RSA. NRC hasn't won against you all for 99 years.

Your friend grinned from ear to ear, a bemused noise left him and nodded his head from side to side akin to a bobble-head figure. "By-the-bye," he interrupted. "If you want to get rid of that 'awful headache' as you say…" Che'nya had always been the type of friend who you could never anticipate what action they might pull off next. But you could always tell If it leaned on more mischief or genuine goodwill.

"You should try seeking someone."

What he said was so stupidly blatant that it might've been a bigger, mind crushing headache than the ones you got occasionally.

"I've already tried that! I mean—of course I'd go to a doctor for migraines that won't go away. Who wouldn't—"

"That's not what I was referring to, silly," He chuckled, pressing his fingertips against his lips to…attempt to conceal the mockery. "But take it as ya will."

You raised your brow, He looked at you knowingly. His intentions weren't quite clear to you, but you could only hope for it to be rational, but what were you kidding?

"...Are you withholding information from me? Or what?"

"Aha! no no! not at all! I'm only suggesting, as any good friend does," He said with a dismissive hand wave, ascending down slowly at the foot of your bed to lay down, stretching his arms before flipping to face you.

"...You sure do love messing with me, don't you?" Your friend only responded in an amused shrug. "Well, I'll be off. Knowing you, this conversation won't go ANYWHERE till you turn over every rock. Buh-bye!" Che'nya's laugh resonated throughout him, trembling. He disappeared starting from his tail, his body followed. His legs were next and then his head—leaving behind a grin before it poofed away too. He frequently crashed at the Heartslabyul dorm to meet up with his childhood friends, his ability to turn invisible helped him stay low.

"Oh..that cat…" You wondered if Che'nya's teasing had a grain of truth to it—was there something more to what you were seeking, something you hadn't yet realised? The idea nagged at you, even as you tried to push it aside.

You managed to push yourself off the bed, tidying the sheets and led yourself to the front of your door, turning the knob to head for somewhere, anywhere. Though, no clear intention really presented itself to you. 'What to do with myself…I suppose a change of scenery could do me some good. For once. Not that I had anything else to do.' You thought to yourself.

After a few minutes well into aimlessly wandering, you stood at the threshold before walking inside, the mouth of the library engulfing you and its doors magically closing on their own—crashing in with a loud thud. The smell of old parchment welcomed you.

It seemed to only be you here. And the librarian.

You made a beeline for the literature section, the bookshelf was curtained in dust. Most thought of old things as borish, so it's to no one's wonder that it hadn't been touched.

You pulled out a book from the fourth shelf using a ladder, a book of turquoise leather binding and a golden spine. The cover had an engravement of a simple rose, peculiarly, its centre spiralled inwards and sometimes shone at you. You read the title: 'The whispers from no end, the collection.' It was a small thing. No bigger than your hands by 2 inches. The cover was still intact and wasn't actively rotting away in your hand…deducting that you were its first reader in ages. Atleast that's how you thought it worked.

Its charming cover attracted you, almost as if handing itself over to you. you slid down the ladder to make your way to one of the desks as you already began flipping through the pages.

You settled for a random page and began reading.

And when shadows swirled

around a solitary candlelight,

aware that it was seen

only by virtue of its glow.

At an opportunity to take leave

it scampered toward the exit,

yet with every step,

a cold breeze pushed it back.

In a moment of realisation,

it retreated into the depths

of the desolate manor,

unfurnished and shrouded in darkness.

You murmured the lines to yourself, jotting down notes for dissecting later. The notes didn't necessarily have to be done neatly, but just legible enough for you to understand.

From the right of you, you heard a sudden crack. Your eyelids burst open as you picked up the sound of glass shattering, but the windows in front of you seemed intact—The mystery of it confounded you.

Your eyes landed on the book you had just picked up, bringing it up close to your face once more to inspect it. It shone yet again in your eye, forcing you to jar your head and avoid the ray. At once, you picked up on a glass bead at the centre of the spiralled rose.

A crack ran along the delicate glass, atypically managing to break itself with no external force, that's what you thought, anyhow.

Your attention was engaged to the peculiar object, it almost lured you in. "...What could've possibly happened to you?" despite being something inanimate, you spoke to it as if you were referring to something that was animate. People would wonder why they'd always catch you doing this.

Your fingers ran along the fissure, untill it cut the tip of it. Pulling your hand back to your body, pinching the fingertip and swiping away the droplet of blood. Your blood seeped into the glass. Dropping the book and leaving it open.

It was that awful jabbing headache again. You've had almost enough of this tantalizing torture. But there was little to nothing you could do. "And if I had sought medical help, I'd have to down another useless pill."

Knowing that practically every item in here was laced with magic, you knew that you must have managed to involuntarily trigger something. And with such an anomalous appearing cover nonetheless.

"Agh…No, wait! Ack! I already have a curse on me—! I don't need another!"

With the senses that you had left, you managed to clasp the book shut with a loud slam—the pressure and force could've compressed the pages back into its former crisp and straight state. And by luck, your troubles were gone—and it only puzzled you even more so than answering anything.

Even the library seemed to hold its breath, anticipating another sudden outburst to happen. But nothing came after. And this became your telltale sign that it was time to leave.

Cautiously picking the book back up, you checked to see if it would come back alive, which it didn't—fortunately. You didn't bother to ask the librarian if you could borrow it—not wanting to show that you have…broken it.

By then, the hallways were painted in orange hues that reflected off of the pristine marble pillars and floors, your heels clicked against the tiles and echoed throughout. You eventually made it to the grand staircase that led up into the dorm rooms, though quite a hassle to walk up—since by every stop you'd have to catch your breath—it was gorgeous nonetheless.

You stumbled a bit on the way, but you ultimately made it back to your room safe and sound, removing your shoes— lugging the book onto your desk and crashing into your bed—Allowing yourself to melt into the sheets. Inward and outwardly exhausted.

"I can't exactly sit here and do nothing…can I…? Haha…" You chuckled to yourself. picking yourself up and sitting down at the edge of the bed, swinging one leg over the other. "'Go seek someone' He says! I've already gone to a doctor before, and if it did work, I wouldn't be complaining now!" You sighed into the palm of your hand.

“Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, it’s like I hit a wall. What am I even missing?”

“Well, at least the day's winding down,” you said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. “Maybe a break will do me some good. It’s not like I’m making any progress here.” With a resigned sigh, you pushed the thoughts aside, resolved to get some rest. You lay back on your bed, letting the soft mattress calm you.

As you closed your eyes, the room fell silent, save for the faint echoes of your own thoughts drifting into the night.

Note: HEYEYEY srry for the lobg update i was dealinf with problems, my bad gng🙏 APOLOGIES FOR ANY WRITING ERRORS😊

[dat-town]

short n sweet

Characters: Riwoo & female reader

Setting & genre: fluff, coffee shop au, mutual pining

Summary: So what if you have a favourite customer? It’s not like you would do anything about this silly crush. It's not like it's mutual... right?

Warnings: birth name used (is there like an official romanization of his name though?), introverts trying to “flirt” with extroverts’ help

Words: 0.87k

Author’s note: happy bday to this cutie pie! (yes it looks like i'm doing a bday project for the boys...) title inspired by Sabrina Carpenter because i just wanted to write something short and sweet for Riwoo's birthday

“Stop staring, you are awfully obvious,” Haewon hisses beside you and you yelp a little bit too loud in surprise.

“I wasn’t staring!” You protest (lying through your teeth) but there’s no convincing your older sister slash boss who has been folding napkins beside you for the better half of the last hour. With not many customers around sometimes it gets boring and you have to find ways to pass time. For her it's little tasks like that, for you it’s sneaking glances at the cute boy sitting in the corner with headphones over his ears, feet tapping on the ground.

He’s a regular, he always orders a simple latte and two or three different desserts from your menu. He has a sweet tooth, you can tell and it makes you smile fondly because it fits him. He has the sweetest smile and cutest moles you have ever seen.

The first time he showed up at your sister’s coffee place during your shift he seemed like just another customer you would forget about but then he stuttered at the French word financier and he shyly rubbed the back of his neck as you repeated his order, his teeth slightly peeking out in a small smile. It was cute just like the rest of him. The way his eyes widened and sparkled when he found a new delicious dessert or the way his eyes turned into small crescents when you remembered his coffee order the third time he visited.

He comes two or three times a week, mostly alone but sometimes with a friend, a loud and puppy-like one. He always sits at the same table if it was unoccupied and being a small, independent coffee shop outside of the touristy or busy college spots of Seoul it usually is. His name is Sanghyeok, he teaches kids dance at a nearby dance academy (which you know because one time an enthusiastic twelve-year-old who came in with her mom saw him and declared it to the entire street to hear), he’s a Pedagogy major (which you know thanks to your nosy sister and Sanghyeok’s blabbermouth friend) and his ears get red easily (which you know because well… one time you forgot to filter your thoughts and called him cute out loud). Haewon teases you that he’s your favourite customer and the sole reason why you help her out which is so not true! He is not the only reason, you’re also doing this out of the goodwill of your heart because you are a good sister.

Haewon, not being so nice, suddenly pinches your side and you turn to glare at her before you notice the reason behind her action on the other side of the counter.

“Hi, would you like anything else?” A smile immediately blossoms on your face as you look at the boy. He recently dyed his hair a red-ish colour like autumn maple leaves and it looks so good on him like the colour was invented just for him.

“Uhm, yeah, actually, can I…” He speaks up, sounding slightly nervous, which makes you raise an eyebrow curiously. Come on, there’s no shame in ordering more dessert, you have a sweet tooth too. You’re ready to reassure him, desperately hoping you would come off as casual and still professional while trying to find a common topic. However, Sanghyeok is faster and the words that come out of his mouth sound unreal. “Can I get your number?”

Oh my gosh, it’s happening. Okay, now act normal.

Not surprisingly you fail at doing so. You blush like crazy and it doesn’t help that you hear Haewon whisper screams two steps from you:

“Her shift ends in like twenty minutes in case you wanted to know that too,” she has the audacity to wink at her own customer with no regards to the fact that she could lose a regular if things go south.

“Uhm, yes, you can and please ignore my sister, you don’t have to wait for me,” you chuckle shyly as you fish out your phone exchanging contacts with the equally embarrassed boy. Introverted things, you guess.

“Actually, if that’s okay with you, I would be happy to,” Sanghyeok smiles and then goes back to his table after a polite bow to Haewon who’s practically perched up on your shoulder.

“Hah, I won. Not to be rude but I knew you would never initiate. Myung Jaehyun now has to bring all his friends here,” she says with a giddy smile while your eyes widen in shock.

“You made a bet with his friend over us?”

Honestly speaking you shouldn’t have been so surprised about it. You were more taken aback that it meant so-called Jaehyun placed his bet on you and now he lost.

“Well, yeah but you can’t really say it didn’t work in everybody’s favour,” Haewon ruffles your hair which you sulkily fix before sneaking a glance at your favourite customer only to catch him looking as well. You both giggle and look away.

Argh, would it be too low to beg for Haewon to let you off sooner? She would never stop bringing it up but maybe it would be worth it. Yeah, looking at Sanghyeok’s smile, it sure would be.

[feyd-meowtha]

Gale snuck into his room that night as he sometimes did. He had started after John’s parents installed the new trellis, creeping up it like a cat burglar and tap, tap, tapping at John’s bedroom window like Cathy’s fucking ghost. This time, however, John didn’t really feel like letting him in.  “I’m saving myself for marriage like a good little christian girl,” he said, the latest Vampirella comic in his hands and Scooby Doo forgotten on the TV, lotion ready and waiting on his bedside table. “So you better scram, else my daddy’ll be up here to kick your ass.”  “And that might scare me if your dad’s car was in the driveway. I reckon he’s out at the golf club like he is most nights which means we have all the time in the world,” Gale said, deftly undoing the catch and poking his head into the room.  “What are you doing here, man?” Bucky asked, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his comic. Gale was wearing the blue bowling shirt that they found at the goodwill last year and it made his complexion glow like Georgia peaches in the summertime. “It’s late, we got an algebra test tomorrow.”  “Algebra?” Gale asked, his face a mask of neutrality as he picked up John’s comic by one corner, peering at the scantily clad Vampirella tearing through a gang of unfortunate bikers.  “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”  John rolled his eyes and swiped for the comic, but Gale kept it out of reach, holding it with his other hand and flipping smoothly through the pages before raising his eyebrows.  “None of em are even stuck together yet,” he said, tutting softly, “Now I know why you’re so pissy, I caught you right in the middle of something.”  “Yeah, as a matter of fact you did, so maybe you just better go out the way you came so I can get on with it. I mean, why are you even here huh? Isn’t there some other bedroom window you should be climbing through tonight?”  Gale didn’t respond, too engrossed in the blood splattered across the page of the comic book, the titular character’s boobs a millimetre away from popping out of her barely there outfit.  “Huh? Vampire got your tongue?” John asked, snatching the comic back and cursing internally when a corner of it came off in Gale’s hand.

“There are a lot of guys at this school who’d be humping her fucking window-sill by now but not you, right? Man, you’re the only guy who's ever managed to get a girlfriend only to come off looking even gayer than before.” John said, followed by a flurry of frustrated swearing as Gale flopped down on his bed, still looking at the comic book and clearly not in the mood to talk about Marge.  “If you need to get your rocks off I’m sure there’s a late night rerun of The Exorcist or something, here, let me turn over the channel,” he said scornfully, reaching for the remote and flipping around until he found something that would work. It wasn’t The Exorcist but he figured The Texas Chainsaw Massacre would do just fine.

Snippet from It's a Scream, coming to feyd_meowtha on AO3 this Halloween!

[oowadakisser]

hi lotf fandom !!!

so my lotf hyperfixation kinda ended but i do still love the book and i’m not leaving the fandom or anything !!! i just wanted to share this art i made of simon on the wii AND i finally got a conch shell today !!! i found it at goodwill for only $5 :3

i recently moved houses so i havent really had any energy/motivation to draw, but i did graduate high school !! i passed all my finals and classes !! :DD

i also drew this speed racer for my english teacher bc he watched it when he was a kid and he’s my fav teacher :3 i think it made him cry 😭

[houseofbrat]

Have it on good authority that Angelina was known as crazy at the UN by many of the staff members, and the actual reason she left is because she demanded to be made a Diplomat instead of Goodwill Ambassador and gave them an ultimatum, make me a Diplomat or I will leave. They said no, and she left.

Angelina has such a long history of using her children in the press I can't believe more people aren't critical of this.

Not taking away from what a nightmare Brad is, obviously he sucks.

Thank you for bringing this up. I have heard similar things from friends working in international aid organizations often contracted to work with the UN. Also, remember all of the press and accolades she received due to her association with William Hague and how they created an Initiative for violence against women in conflict zones? It was basically abandoned shortly after its creation. Granted Hague retired so she shouldn’t shoulder the entire blame, but considering Angelina continues to receive special treatment as an actress who isn’t like the rest of Hollywood — sHe AcTuAlLy CaReS — I find it astounding that this has had no impact on her. If she needed to take a step back due to family or health issues, that’s okay! It doesn’t take a lot to do a handoff to other (more qualified and capable!) individuals and cut a check and continue to support with fundraising. But to have an independent governmental body say that you’re “letting down survivors” due to your inaction or lack of interest is absolutely something that deserves attention.

Here’s a Guardian article which gives a great summary: https://amp.theguardian.com/global-development/2020/jan/09/letting-survivors-down-criticism-for-william-hague-angelina-jolie-sexual-violence-in-war-zones-scheme

And here’s the report: https://icai.independent.gov.uk/psvi/

Also have it on good will that when she visited the Houses of Parliament she was a diva nightmare from hell, so there’s that too

Her move to the UN was motivated by public relations. She contacted them and pitched that she be a representative for Unicef, the UN agency that provide humanitarian aid children. The UN said no. Her image at that point wasn't what the UN wanted associated with children. So she ended up working for refugees.

Not surprised by this at all. I knew a few people who did international aid work in various places and Jolie was well known as a opportunistic fake who came, took pictures, and then returned to her 5 star hotel.

I know someone who knew Brad and AJ in similar circles and his biggest takeaway is how very “not bright” they both are.

I’ve posted about this before and most people don’t believe me but that’s ok .. Brad wanted the kids to be disciplined, in school, not be spoiled - and Angelina wanted to be their bestie, buying whatever they wanted and letting them do whatever they wanted. Now she just talks shit about him, brainwashing them into to believing he’s the devil. He’s not perfect by any stretch, but from what I know, she’s way worse than what is presented in the media. Very manipulative, calculating and nasty. Source: I’m an almost 60 year old woman who used to work in the entertainment industry and still have many friends in their circle.

Everything you say! I have two solid sources who are a-list and one of them works with her, the other share a team member. Shes a menace. Im team no one but their kids but truly she is dangerously manipulative. Perfect example she paid someone to build her fashion line, promised them co-creator credit and when it was time for it to be debuted in Vogue, called the editor and specifically said don’t name the main designer. The main designer found it and when confronted Angelina continuously denied and eventually pretended it didn’t even happen. Shes not all there. Source: been in industry for two decades and around these two quite a bit

This is essentially what I had heard as well. He had a more traditional approach to parenting, like set bedtimes, cooked family meals together, time-outs when the kids acted up, asking them to do their share of chores, etc. and she just didn’t believe in any of it. It was a constant source of friction. He was supposedly really unhappy that the kids ate a lot of junk and fast food as their meals. And yes, when things tanked between them, she worked on them to alienate them from him.

I used to work in the executive offices at Warner Bros in the late 00’s and this absolutely tracks with everything I heard about them from the other assistants and receptionists.

That seems like her PR spin though. I’ve heard (from reliable sources) that her refusal to set any kind of boundaries or discipline of any kind with the children was the main issue between them and ultimately was the match in the powder keg of the ugly airplane incident. Her older kids especially have no respect for authority. He wanted more structure and discipline. Now they are *gasp “troubled.” Who could have foreseen it? He “lunged at” the oldest kid (who is also “troubled” now) and Angelina jumped on his back. Not his best moment for sure but he doesn’t have a history of violence. Since then he’s been sober for eight years.

[secretsandwritinggs]

The first one of these did so good I figured why not make the second part to it so here’s the continued part for random Lawrusso family headcanons:

Anthony has a special container/box type-thing for his many notebooks

Daniel actually had to place a limit on Anthony and his notebooks (Anthony is only limited to having two notebooks monthly but if he’s good he gets three of them)

Sam and Johnny have a habit where they’ll speak to themselves when no one is around

Anthony out of everyone has the least amount of clothes while Robby has the most amount

Sam tends to donate a lot of her clothes to places where they can be recycled into other items

Robby saves every single birthday, holiday, note he’s ever received from the family

Sam has a random chocolate bowl in her room that Robby and Anthony steal chocolate from

Sam and Daniel started a savings and checking account for both Robby and Anthony

All the kids drink different milks for different reasons

Robby drinks lactose free (he found out he was lactose intolerant at a doctors appointment), Anthony drinks almond milk (he likes the smell, taste, and color of it), and Sam drinks 2% (she claims it makes her coffee taste better).

Everyone likes different types of coffee depending on the day they just had

Johnny has arthritis and Sam has it mildly but both are bed bound whenever it rains because it hurts too much to move

Sam on her period, especially if it’s heavy, can hardly move so whenever she butt scoots or rolls down the stairs

Anthony and Sam enjoy going to Goodwill for cds and beanie babies

Johnny has given Sam the most of his old stuff and vise versa with Daniel and Robby

Sam has every type of charger or plug you’ll need for things and at the airport she’s in charge of the technology for the whole family

Everyone has noise canceling headphones for plane rides and has a particular seat on the plane

Sam sits either in the aisle or the window seat, Robby prefers to sit in the middle (because he likes getting both the arm rests), Anthony likes the aisle seat (because he gets to pee first without shimming through people), Johnny mostly sits by the window on the plane, and Daniel sits in the middle or aisle seat.

Anthony unironically says he’s going to start “tweaking” if he doesn’t get his 24 pack of Dr. Pepper for the month

Daniel also had to limit him on his Dr. Pepper intake because no such child should be “tweaking” from not having soda and claimed it was making him addicted

Both Robby and Anthony are on the minimal while Sam is more of maximal type of person

Anthony and Sam share a jack-and-jill bathroom

Robby mostly sleeps downstairs in the media room while Anthony sleeps in his gaming chair down there

Sam keeps the guest bathrooms stocked with bath products for whoever

Sam tends to do Anthony’s hair treatment also braids his hair time-to-time

Daniel buys the kids random gifts on weird days

Sam is the one who made them a new kitchen table after the first one broke on itself

Robby self assigned himself as the mail boy of the house so every morning he would go out and get the mail

Sam is the self assigned cleaner of the house - she tends to stress clean a lot and they just let her get at it and not disturb her

Johnny often makes fruit salad for the kids for how much they consul of fruit

Robby and Anthony unironically say or text to each other, “What’s up brother 🤓☝️”

The kids have a group chat outside the main family group chat

Anthony steals Sam’s perfume to smell nice

Sam can 100% fit into some of Johnny’s clothes

Oh gosh, there’s still so much I can add to this list but I’m going to cut it off right here and of course these are all loosely based on my own family. If you couldn’t already tell that my family is a weird bunch then, I’m going to hold your hand when I say this to you hun… 🧍‍♂️

Parts in order: one