#these two images were close in my gallery and I just had to take a screen

[ortofosforico]

YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND.

IT WAS A KEYCHAIN-

FROM HIS MOMMY.

AND HE KEPT IT FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS.

[bpmiranda]

Request: This is my first request ever btw!! Would you be able to write logan is your dad’s friend and and the reader is teasing him and trying to distract him. (Age gap n dom logan 🙈). I hope this made sense

Spoiled Rotten (Logan Howlett) nsfw

A/N: age gap, 18+ f!reader, dom!logan, rough sex, brat!reader, light bondage?, kind of mean!logan

It was easy for her to make out Logan’s voice downstairs in the kitchen, joking around with her dad. A smile curled on her lips as she closed the book she had been reading and gave herself a once over in the full body mirror that hung behind her door. Her feet quickly and lightly hurried down the staircase and she popped into the kitchen with a smile.

“Hi Logan!” She greeted cheerfully and he smiled at her. “Heard you from upstairs.” She had walked over to where he was leaning against the kitchen table sipping a beer and gave him a hug, pressing her chest into his side and rubbing his back lightly with her hand.

“Hey, sweet girl,” Logan chuckled, squeezing her arm and then letting her go. “How was your first college semester?” He asked.

“It was fun. Some friends and I went to the beach for the weekend. Wanna see some pictures?”

Her dad cleared his throat and she looked at him, almost forgetting he was standing in the kitchen too. “Hold on, dear, Logan and I are having a conversation.”

“Oh, sorry.” She excused herself and sat on the counter behind her dad so she was still facing Logan and she bit her lip as she watched him nod and focus on her father, which irritated her in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

As they made plans on how to go about tearing out the old deck and putting in a new one, Y/N grew tired of waiting and she unlocked her phone and scrolled through her gallery until she found the pictures she wanted to show him. The first was a mirror picture of her in a bikini and she turned the screen towards him. Logan’s eyes caught the light of her phone and they went wide at the image she was showing him. Her teeth bit down on her bottom lip as he took a deep breath and refocused on her dad.

The second picture was of her in the beach hotel bathroom, topless and leaning onto the sink so her breasts were pressed together and she turned it to him with a wink. Logan repositioned his stance, clearly growing uncomfortable and annoyed as she continued to be a distraction.

The final picture was the final straw, and she knew it. While she knew it was her longest and closest girl friend that had helped her take the picture, Logan did not. The last picture she showed him behind her father’s back was taken from the foot the hotel bed where she was lying naked on her back, hands shyly covering her face so her breasts were once again pressed together and her knees were brought up slightly to her chest, ankles crossed just barely hiding her exposed cunt. Logan’s jaw tightened as did his grip on the beer bottle and it suddenly shattered in his hand.

Y/N gasped, quickly locking her phone and hopping off the counter to grab some paper towels while her dad exclaimed in surprise. “Woah, you alright, pal?” He asked Logan who nodded, shaking his hand off, and giving her a small nod as she handed him the paper towels to quickly dab at the blood.

“I’ll grab the first aid kit.” She announced before hurrying up the stairs and to her bedroom, having no intentions of getting the kit since she knew Logan didn’t need it. Instead she hid in her bedroom, chewing nervously on her lip as she heard the two mens’ voices downstairs. Fuck, she thought to herself, knowing she had probably pushed it too far.

It wasn’t long before Logan’s heavy feet stomped up the stairs and she trembled as he barged into her bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him. “What the hell was that?” He demanded, undoing his belt as he stared down at her sitting criss-cross in her bed.

“It wasn’t my intention, Logan. I swear, I was just playing around.” She apologized, hiding her hands between her legs as he was looping the leather belt together.

“Couldn’t wait two damn minutes for me to finish up with your dad?” He asked, holding onto the belt and rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. “Turn around.”

“Logan,” She began to protest, pouting while he only looked at her with flaring nostrils and a shaking head. “What about my dad?” She asked nervously.

Logan grew impatient and he pulled her off the bed harshly, spinning her around, and pushing her back down onto her mattress. “He ran to the store, so you’d better do as your told unless you want him to find me up here.”

Her hands were tied with the belt behind her back and she felt a hard smack land on her ass that made her cry out though she grew wet from the sting. “Logan, I’m sorry, please be gentle.” She begged, shaking as he tugged her shorts off to reveal she wasn’t wearing any panties. He never was gentle when she upset him, and that was something she knew going into this.

“Should’ve thought about that earlier, sweetheart.” Logan muttered as he straddled her ass and she suddenly felt his swollen tip push into her tight cunt. “Next time you’ll think twice before you pull a stunt like that again.” His thrusts were immediately hard and deep, her eyes watered as he barely waited for her arousal to properly lubricate his dick. His grip was tight on the belt that held her wrists together and he lifted her onto her knees while keeping her head shoved into the mattress. “Fuck!” Logan grunted as she was much too tight for him, much too young to handle what he gave her, but he always made it fit.

“Ah! Logan, it hurts!” She cried, her hands fisted into tight balls as all she could do was take his incessant pounding, driving her deeper and deeper into her bed until she was slobbering and crying from the girth of him stretching her out so roughly and quickly. “Logan!”

“Quiet down before you get us caught.” He snarled into her ear, rutting into her so deeply she felt him against her cervix and she sobbed at the feeling of her intense orgasm crumbling her down to nothing but a blubbering mess. “Who the fuck took that picture of you?” He demanded, tugging on the belt with one hand and holding onto her throat with the other. “Probably some asswipe that won’t know how to handle you.” He said through grunts as he smacked his hips harshly against her ass while he fucked her right through her orgasm. “You’re gonna turn into a spoiled brat messing around with boys too soft to put you in your place.”

“It wasn’t a boy,” She moaned softly, the feeling of his cock throbbing inside her made her want more, another orgasm, a harder one. “It was a man.” She lied, and she bit her lip, grinning as he used both hands to hold her down so he could jackhammer his thick cock into her tiny, abused hole. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Fuck, Logan!” She screamed, her body shook violently with another release and he growled as he pumped her full of his load.

The sounds coming from her drenched and flooded pussy made her shudder and Logan gently kissed her shoulder and her neck, still pulsing inside her as she squeezed and milked his cock with her tight walls. “Who took the picture?” He asked again.

“My girl friend,” She sighed breathlessly. “I only want you, Lo.” She murmured, exhausted and aching everywhere as he pulled out of her with a squelching sound. “Just you.”

“That’s my sweet girl.” He praised, untying her hands and helping her clean up before leaving her to rest in her bedroom while he headed back downstairs before her dad returned. Logan knew she was already spoiled, and perhaps that was his own doing.

🫣

[oval3000]

Chapter 3

Yandere Teacher Nanami x Student Reader

Warning: Abuse, Smut, Abduction, Violence, Rough play, toxic behavior, age gap, everything from all above. Mainly from his point of view...somewhat... modern au- idk. College teacher x student.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

-------------------------------------------------------

He could hear the voice of his fellow female colleague, trying to get his attention. He could hear her light heels speeding up against the floors, "Mr. Nanami? Could you help me with the new test sheets? I have to print a lot and my students are going to come in a few minutes." He rolled his eyes. Not the first time his colleague asked for help even though it was her responsibility to do so herself.

"You were supposed to have them ready the day before," he turned around to face, having his head tilted a bit. He had things to do, and he was a busy man so when someone came in and stopped him, it irritated him dearly.

"I know, but I got caught with the time." She placed her hand on his biceps, she looked at him with a sad expression on her face, "Please."

At that moment he saw another colleague, "Mr. Yamagachi, can you help Miss. Ito with her work?"

"I'm pretty sure Mr. Yamagachi is busy." She smiled letting out a bit of laughter.

"So am I. Next time plan more so you can actually do your job." Nanami turned back around and exited the building. He got into his nice car and drove off.

He pulled up to his new two-story house brick, victorian, home. He closed the dark brown wood door behind him, dropping his briefcase on the floor. He took off his tan blazer off, hanging on the coat rack at the corner of the front entrance. He opened the door to his office and placed his items on the desk. He pinched the bridge of his glasses, pulling them off his face. As he sat down on his chair, his head swung back making him stare at the ceiling. He side-eyed his computer, moving the mouse to turn it on. quickly logging in and going through his gallery. He saw the portfolio of pictures and images of you. Pictures that he took of you during his class. They weren't clear pictures, mostly blurry due to the fact that he had to zoom through the lens to take the pic of you and no one else. A perk of having a bunch of students that don't pay attention is that students won't notice Nanami, sneaking, pulling out his phone, and taking a few pics of you. He made it seem like he was just using his phone, scrolling through whatever. Sure, he has the photo of you that you took when you got your school ID, but it just wasn't enough.

He looked around his desk and imagined the empty space to be filled with pictures of you and him together. Pictures of you holding children. If he wanted to go through this, he needed a nice home. A home that resembles having a family with plenty of rooms and space. He got up and went towards the master bedroom. He walked over to the windows, opening the white curtain revealing a big wood board that covered the whole window, behind the board was another set of white curtains. He tugged on the board to test the strength and smiled to himself to see how secure it was. It wasn't a permanent thing, he'll eventually take it off once you are comfortable. He doesn't even how you'll react towards this, towards him. Are you going to scream? Are you going to try and escape? Or are you going to accept him a be the perfect wife for him? Questions that he wants clear answers to, but the only thing he can get is theories.

He went towards the bed, tugging on the rope that was tied to the headboard, again smiling to himself on how secure it was. He quickly swept the empty side of the closet so it was ready for all of your things. He dusted off half of the empty drawers, ready to be stuffed with your undergarments. The room is fairly large. A nice comfy armrest chair in the corners with a matching stool at the front. The bed, a king-size bed, perfectly centered, the headboard up against the while, and two nightstands on either side of the bed. On the other side, across from the bed, is a door that leads to the bathroom. He picked up the brown, paper, bag from the chair and opened the door to the bathroom. He grabbed all the items from the brown, paper, bag and placed them on the bathroom counter. He crumbled the paper bag and tossed it in the trash. He placed the extra toothbrushes and toothpaste in one of the drawers. He placed the box of pads under the bathroom sink. All hygiene products, he placed them in their designated spot; shampoo, body wash, conditioner, and body scrub. He went back to the room and placed all other products into the white vanity that he built and got for you; hair brush, moisturiser, sunscreen, all types of serums, spray facial mist, hair ties, hair oils, hair blow dryer, lip oils, lip balms, and some nail polishes. The cashier who scanned of of his items was calling him sweet for getting all of this for his significant other. Nanami smiled and thanked her. It was sweet, so you would be happy to be here, right?

He quickly cleaned the rest of the house, settling everything in. Tidying up the kitchen and living room, leaving everything simple and clean. Of course, things can change once you're here. If you want to move things around or add things, Nanami made sure to keep it simple that way you can add your personal touch to the house. Nanami, resting on the couch, turning on the flat-screen TV, resting on top of the fireplace, pulled out his phone and went through your social media post. He never used social media, but he knew he was to get to know you a lot more, so he quickly downloaded them and made fake names. You kept things private so it was a hard time for him to get through, you had friends and relatives who weren't private and who posted things about you. He saw posts that your friends and relatives have put out like the day they took you to celebrate your birthday at a restaurant or when you went to the movies and they posted a 'best day ever' selfie with you in the background. He was lucky to remember the people you talked to when he saw you at the college campus or else he wouldn't know more about you.

He went through many scenarios in his head. Was this the right thing to do? Is this necessary? Would it be easier if he just talked to you and confessed his feelings towards you? After all, what's the worst that can happen? Him being rejected? No. He just can't accept that.

Not when he could feel your body heat as he leaned closer to you, hovering over you. "I'm having trouble with this one Mr. Nanami?"

He placed his hands in front of you almost caging you in. Your back was turned to him as you were sitting down, staring at the question with a wooden pencil in your hand. You were so oblivious about everything it made Nanami go feral. He leaned closer to you, his mouth near your neck, "What are you not understanding, sweetheart?"

"Which formula am I supposed to use when they didn't give the percent number on how much it's been missing?" You said, rereading the question in your head.

"Which one do you think would work the best when one variable is missing, love." His cock felt like it was going to explode with cum on how close and how cute you were to him. He loved this. He enjoyed this.

"This one?" You pointed to one of the formulas tilting your head a bit.

Nanami smiled, "Yes, correct. You're doing amazing." His lips parted, feeling his crotch area getting tight. He thought he was able to control himself by now but clearly, he wasn't. He was thankful that the chair was blocking his hard boner from your back or else his plan was going to come to an end and all of his hard work would've gone to the trash. he saw the way you quickly solved the question of how easily you cached on. His high hopes were showing. Maybe it wouldn't be hard?

Days would go by and eventually, you fully understood everything he had taught you that you miss. You asked Nanami if you were ready to retake the test and he was trying to insist that it's okay to take more time to study, but you told Nanami that you are ready. Nanami enjoyed these moments he had with you even though you had no idea what was going on, he didn't want it to end. He needed you.

He knew that his time was coming close, so when he saw you outside the campus building, sitting on one of the benches, he walked up to you. "Everything alright, (Y/n)?"

You looked up from your phone, "Yes, I'm just waiting for my cab"

"Well," he looked around to find no one. The time stamp during this moment is where there are fewer students, and less crowded. "If you want, I can take you? I'm heading out for my lunch break, I can take you home." You weren't really sure about it. Nanami could see that you were hesitant. "It'll be no problem. Besides you most likely have things to do. Don't want to waste time waiting, right?"

"Right. Okay." You got up, quickly canceling your ride." Thank you, Mr. Nanami." You followed him to his. He opened the passenger side for you. When you got inside his car you were quite surprised at how neat and clean his car was. "You have a nice car, sir."

"Really? I mean, it's just a car in average condition." He said, starting his car and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Well, I guess I've never seen a guy keeping his car in good shape." You said, trying not to keep things awkward between the both of you. You never head a teacher driving you home or anywhere. Yes, you went inside strangers' cars, mainly cab and Uber drivers that you contacted before, but never someone that you sort of knew and definitely never a teacher.

"Never seen a guy have a clean car?" He questioned, giving you glances.

"No. My ex-boyfriend was really messy. He always had a messy and smelly car." You clutched your bag close to you.

Nanami felt his throat a bit dry. His hands were gripping the steering wheel. "Ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I used to date this one guy. He was my first boyfriend. We only lasted like three months so I wouldn't really call him a boyfriend. We hardly did anything together." You said. You looked out at the window and realized something. "Wait," Nanami pulled over to a curb in an area where it was isolated, and pulled out a white cloth while you stared out at the window, "I never even told you where I lived, I liv-" You couldn't finish the sentence because Nanami quickly covered your mouth.

The cloth had two pills in it, "That's it." Nanami felt his arm getting slapped repeatedly by you. He could hear your muffled screams, which made him pull you closer, lifting your head up so the pills could go down. You felt the small pills going down your throat. You felt like you were going to choke, so you had no choice, but to swallow them. It was painful and soon you felt weak. "Good girl." Eventually, you fell into your sleep. He got your phone and took out the memory card and battery before tossing it out. Nanami continued to drive off.

He pulled up to the house and parked in the garage that was connected to the house. He opened his door and quickly went towards yours. He opened the passenger door and carried you out bridal style. He entered the home and headed upstairs. He placed you on the bed and quickly tied your hands with the ropes that were tied to the headboard.

He finally took a deep breath, falling down on the bed next to you. He looked over his side and stared at you. He stared at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat slowing down a bit. His palms began to feel less shaky and the sweat forming finally calmed down.

He sat up covering his face with his hands. "What the hell am I doing?" He got up and paced around the room staring at your unconscious body. He got on the bed and hovered over you. "You're driving me crazy," he whispered to you. He placed his hand on your waist, " You're doing this to me." He placed a light kiss on your lips.

He got up and headed down to the kitchen and decided to make a light sandwich. After he finished he went to the car and gathered the rest of your things. He went through your bag and found your wallet. He found your IDs and cards.

He heard light noises coming from upstairs. He got up from the chair and placed the cards on the kitchen table. The closer he got to the second floor the more he could hear more of the noises and groaning. He opened more of the bedroom door and saw you opening your eyes. You moved to your side buring your face into your hands. He saw the way you peeked at the entrance and saw him which made you quickly sit up. He saw the way tears were forming in your eyes. You curled yourself up, bringing your knees up to your chest. " Please don't hurt me."

He shut the door behind him.

"Please."

He walked closer to you. "I won't hurt you."

"Where am I?"

"You're at home. With me."

@black-swan-blog27

@srae123

@foggyturtleknightangel

[demonslayedher]

Today I went to the Zenshuuchuu-ten (Total Concentration Exhibition) for the Swordsmith Village and Hashira Training arcs today!

This is basically a chance for Ufotable to be like, "remember that cool thing we did?" and for we the fans to be like, "yup, sure do, that's why we're here."

It's not quite as extensive as other KnY events I've been to, and it doesn't particularly provide any new information, but it's fun to see some glimpses of the process from animation cells to finished clips. There's always a handful of fun displays to interact with, scrolls of character designs, and nice panels to display screenshots, especially centered around character arcs and impactful moments.

This time it was roughly as follows:

1. A room with large screen shots of Muzan the Upper Moons that appear in time with lines from the show and twangs of a biwa

2. A small room with a small swordsmithing game that they hurry everyone through. You need to strike the sword with just the right amount of force to get a ball into the middle of three slots, which I did, so I got handed a little piece of paper which is my certification as a master. I mentioned this to a friend afterword and her response was "of course you did."

3. A room in two parts dedicated to Muichiro's arc in SSV, with a hazy curtain you pass through sort of like Muichiro gaining his memories, and a model of his sword backlit in turquoise

4. A room dedicated to Mitsuri's arc in SSV, including a model of her sword which curves all the way across the room, and a little Mitsuri whom you could challenge to arm wrestling. She beat me pretty easily.

5. A Genya room of screenshots, and models of both his short little sword and his gun. Forgot to mention that their lines were playing overheard in each room!

6. A Gyokko and Hantengu room. A Gyokko only appeared over a model of the vase if you took a photo with flash, and there was a little Hantengu figure to look for, and if you found it, they'd give you a piece of origami paper on your way out of the gallery (pretty much everybody found it, but it was tiny).

8. The dedicated to Nezuko's mastery was not in-your-face triumph, but instead had a TV screen playing the Nezuko tribute music video version of her song, with the lyrics as scattered across the grey walls as the stream-of-consciousness lyrics.

9. Right after that, the staff ushers you in to the Hashira meeting, as though you were late.

Next to the meeting taking place, there is a model of Tanjiro's new old sword.

8. After that is a room dedicated to Giyuu's back story. I liked the design of the hanging screenshots in this one. Although the overall image is "water" because of the blue, the water design with light cast on the floor, and water droplet sounds mixed in with Giyuu's lines, the half-and-half effect was perhaps not intentional, but it was there. When you turn back to look through this room, the hanging screenshots--memories of Sabito and Tsutako--are all black.

9. The rest is a room dedicated to the different stages of Hashira training, with 3-D displays like riceballs, paper airplanes, pancakes with honeycomb and a ribbon, a board with ropes and sword cut marks (yikes), scuffed wooden swords, and a boulder you could push on. Along the tops of these displays were some eyeballs scoping everything out...

10. After that they put you in a theater room with three wide screens and headphones. At the last Zenshuuchuuten they did a reedit of the Akaza and Rengoku fight across three screens, so I figured this would have has plunging into the Infinity Fortress. After a preview review of Hashira Training highlights and Muzan's walk, yup, sure enough things got explosive and they plunged us in via the big screen, including some extra disorientation by zooming really closely in on some moving shots, or having multiple things happen at once across the screens.

11. Then they funnel you into a place with a TV playing the announcement for the Infinity Castle movies. No new content or news.

12. After that, these things tend to have a bright and happy Kimetsu Academy room! You could take photos, but there was a chalkboard with the voice actors have let their signatures and messages for the fans. I appreciated how they seemed to reflect their characters in their comments and handwriting, to some extent (certainly not Matsuoka (Inosuke) or none of it would be legible, but Hayami (Shinobu) has very legible, handwriting, and Hanae (Tanjiro) has comments like "I hope you'll feel like GUWAAA and GAAAAA!"). You could not take photos of the signatures, but you could take a photo of Mitsuri's art and figment of her imagination who says disparaging things to her (despite how she wants her art to make the world happy?? Oh, the irony):

13. The gallery concludes with a hall eyecatch illustrations, and a hall of Ufotable staff art paying homage to their favorite characters and scenes. Always treat seeing things in Ufotable style, but with individual craft and taste!

14. After that, you buy things. This is where they get ya.

Kind of thankfully, it's late enough in the exhibition's run that they've already run out of a lot of the smaller items I was intrigued by, so I behaved myself. I got the t-shirts I was planning on (I love the simplicity of them so so much, and really had to resist getting the paper airplane one too), a Daki ribbon item leftover from the last exhibition (though what I really wanted was Daki shoelaces), and an official pamphlet of the event. My friend got a couple Osaka-only badges,but since she got doubles of Zenitsuup the Umeda Sky Building, she gave one to me.

I really love that "nanikore" ("what the...?") design. It's so simple, and if you don’t know KnY, you might think they're just silly little circus dudes. But people who know will be like, "!!!" and their day will be a little brighter for having seen it.

Gonna do a quick self-reblog now with some extra photos!

[weirdkpopgirl]

Smitten | Jaemin Imagine #7

Title: Smitten

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff that might make you want to throw up

Word Count: 594

Author's Note: Just another idea that came to my head. My inner romantic tends to take over whenever I write stories like this. Then when you combine that with Jaemin, it's kinda hard to stop me lol. Anyway, I hope you guys like it. Thank you for reading ^ ^

𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪

The gentle aroma of vanilla-scented candles, combined with the inviting coziness of your living room, enveloped you and Jaemin in a relaxing embrace. Nestled in the corner of the sofa, both of you found a comfortable position, arms, and legs entangled with one another. Your head rested against his chest, allowing you to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, while his fingers delicately caressed your hair. As you cuddled, your attention was drawn to the phone in your hand, as you scrolled through the cherished moments captured in your photo gallery.

“Remember this one when we saw the cherry blossom trees?” You showed him the selfie you had taken of you two surrounded by the pink flowers.

Jaemin chuckled as he admired the picture alongside you. “Your eyes look like they’re about to burst with joy in that photo.” 

Amidst laughter, your thumb glided over the remaining photos. As you ventured to the latter segment of your gallery, Jaemin's gaze widened in surprise upon encountering an array of images featuring him—from electrifying concerts to captivating photoshoots, even selfies he had shared on social media.

"You save all of these?” Jaemin turned to you with a curious look.

A delicate hue of crimson rushed to your cheeks as if you had been unexpectedly caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. Feeling a touch of embarrassment, your eyes stayed anchored to your phone screen.

“It’s just this habit I have whenever I find a picture of you online,” you shrugged. “Sometimes I just like having something to look at when you’re away.”

Recognition swiftly lit up Jaemin's eyes, a sense of understanding dawning upon him. Your words had an instant effect, gently warming his heart. The reassurance that you held him in your thoughts mirrored his sentiments toward you—a comforting reciprocity he cherished.

A soft smile graced your lips as you casually swiped to the subsequent photo taken by a fan. “And how can I not when my boyfriend has a smile that could light up the whole room?”

Observing the love brimming in your eyes as you admired the image overwhelmed Jaemin’s heart with this delightful tingly sensation. You glanced up from your phone and met his affectionate gaze. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, a renewed blush on your cheeks.

Unable to take his eyes off you, he leaned in until the two of you were mere inches apart.

“You are so adorable,” Jaemin whispered before closing the remaining distance between the two of you.

His hand gently cradled the side of your face, guiding your lips into a slow, tender kiss. Your eyelids fluttered shut as your fingers instinctively threaded through the nape of his neck. Surrendering to the moment, you savored the softness of his lips against your own.

You were the one to pull away first, not wanting to get too carried away. Jaemin still had that lovesick grin on his face that almost made you want to smack him. Bubbling giggles erupted from both of you, as you seamlessly eased back into your previous cuddling embrace.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair.

Smiling, you squeezed him a little tighter. “I love you too.”

Na Jaemin stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you. Although your mind sometimes tried to trick you otherwise, what you had with Jaemin was real and extraordinary. You were so lucky to have him in your life, and he never hesitated to ensure you knew that he felt the same way about you.

𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪

[retrocesosdestacion]

FORMIDABLE MEMORIES OF US. | laura freigang

laura freigang x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none.

notes: idk i hope tumblr dies, enjoy it guys bc now it is ready. most german nicknames are related to cute things :)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Your memories will never be obsolete, they were meant to be yours.

It's gonna be

You and me,

It's gonna be everything you ever dreamed.

Disclosure.

Going to every place on earth was wonderful, and it was twice as good when it came to going out with your beloved girlfriend.

But it was a thousand times better when you could remember all those trips, all the little details that turned those moments into gigantic memories.

And the best way for this to happen is when you can see it every day in your gallery and imagine each scene in your head.

❝  Liebchen, what do you think? ❞  It's impossible to forget the deutch accent in Freigang's english, even if you had your mind in a book.

❝ Hm? ❞ Your eyes fell towards where the call came from, gradually closing the book between your fingers, to mark the page.

❝ I made a little castle for you. ❞ In fact, it was just a pile of wet sand with molds made by the bucket and some random holes; but you love Laura's creativity and imagination.

You laughed lovingly at the situation, not because it was funny, but because Freigang looked like a nine year old playing.

❝ This is more like a tower than a castle, Liebling! ❞ Giggling, you slowly got up from the beach towel and crawled to where the midfielder was, a few meters away.

❝ Huh, use a little of your imagination. ❞ Freigang said as she clapped her hands, knocking the grains of sand onto her own body.

A year ago, the hot summer in Europe was huge and the two of you decided to spend the weekend at the beach. Laura loved going out with you to new places, especially to take pictures of you.

Watching the German girl take photos and building in the sand on the beach was your favorite hobby. And that's exactly what you were doing.

❝ So at least add some shells! ❞ You opined, as you pulled the small jar of shells from the top of your bag; the ones you two had collected a few hours ago. ❝ I don't want a boring castle. ❞

Picking up the diverse little shells on the shores was another thing you and Laura loved to do. Anyone would say that if they saw how many of you two collect them.

Freigang had a smile on her face, the kind you remember forever. She also had the adorable camera around her neck, hanging from a small band appropriate for it.

❝ Oh, I'm sorry, Eure Majestät! ❞ The blonde woman played with your demand, gesturing surprise.

❝ Laura! ❞ A playful laugh left your lips, accompanied by the fragile slap you gave the German woman's shoulder.

You collected the small shells from the pot and began to slowly stick each shell into the wet sand of the supposed Freigang castle.

The midfielder watched you carefully, admiring your every move to decorate the sand. It wasn't long before you heard the pleasant sound of the camera taking a photo.

❝ Hey. ❞ Your eyes went to the woman beside you. ❝ Hey, hey, hey! ❞

Laura laughed.

❝ I already told you not to take photos of me distracted! ❞ You released the shells and carefully brought your hand to the front of the camera.

❝ Oh, please. You look like the cutest thing ever, [reader]! ❞ Freigang said while waiting for the image to load. ❝ Check it out. ❞ She turned the camera screen towards you.

You gave a silly and embarrassed smile, finally releasing your fingers from Laura's camera.

The German kept her passionate smile as she spent long minutes looking at the photo.

❝ Why are you looking so much, hmm? ❞ You moved even closer to the midfielder's side, taking the opportunity to wrap your arm around Laura's.

❝ I'll keep this one. ❞

❝ Huh, but do you always keep my photos, no? ❞

❝ Hm… It’s special. ❞ Freigang sounds with an embarrassed tone. ❝ It's the first time we go to the beach together. ❞ Despite everything, she was adorable and cute; and still is.

She put her fingers on the back of her head; obviously, shames. You couldn't contain your laughter, Laura's smallest details were what fueled your happiness so much.

❝ So at least have a photo of the two of us together. ❞ You said, discreetly taking the camera from the German woman's hand, removing the band that comes with.

The blonde German girl always lets you touch and use her stuff, no matter what it is.

❝ I'll take it, [reader]. ❞ Laura slowly released her fingers from the camera, even though she was saying the opposite.

❝ No, no. You always take our photos. My turn. ❞

You turned the camera around before stretching your arm diagonally upwards, aiming at the two of you. You took one last look at Freigang, who kept the silly and nervous smile on her lips.

❝ Ready? ❞ You asked.

Laura shook her head, agreeing.

Seconds before pressing the button to take the photo, you turned your face and touched your lips to the midfielder's cheek. Freigang wasn't quick enough to react, as originally in the photo, it was as if this attitude was planned.

Taking photos with Laura every day is so good, remembering them is even better. Especially those that show how sweet they are.

It was the best thing that happened in your life, remembering your lips touching the midfielder's skin.

Laura's wide blue eyes that matched the color of the sky and yours bodies pressed together turned this photo into the best photo in the world.

She loves you, Freigang loves your unpredictable way.

The German smiled like you could be sure was one of those that hurts because you have it on your face so much. You still remember how red she turned, so red that she looked like she had just eaten the hottest pepper ever eaten.

Laura was ashamed to admit in words how much she loved you, but her body didn't know how to hide it. She loves, she adores - every detail and attitude you have.

She will never get used to you and your surprising actions, and she loves it.

Driving with Laura is fun, you don't need photos to prove it; She talks to you everytime, she misses the route even with GPS and she loves to tease you by saying she's going to stop to go to the bathroom every five minutes.

But sometimes, it could be a disaster. Not because Freigang was driving, but because you two didn't respect the order of the music playlists.

❝ Laura! Let me put my songs on now! ❞

She took a while to answer because she spent minutes concentrating on the road, but gradually turned to face you.

It wasn't always that Laura drove when you were out and about, it was usually you who was in charge of being the driver. But on that day, the blonde German volunteered for it.

❝ What? ❞ Freigang sounded like she didn't understand the question. In fact, she understood very well, just didn't want to change the song.

That was her way.

You accepted it with a distrust, since Laura driving was synonymous for danger.

❝ Disconnect your phone, it's my turn to put it on! ❞ You repeated in a humorous and threatening tone, looking at the German woman's face.

❝ But you've already repeated your playlist, [reader]. ❞ Freigang said with eyes only on the road. ❝ And the last time we went out, you were the one who put on the music! ❞

❝ You only have Frank Ocean and Kendrick on your playlist, Liebe! ❞ You had nothing against listening to them, but spending an entire trip listening to just them was getting tiring.

❝ And what’s the problem? ❞ It was even adorable how naive she was and almost never understood your tastes and opinions; especially when she kept that cute face.

You kept your mouth shut, since the last time you talked about one of Freigang's favorite artists, you had to listen to her argue for several hours.

Face turned to the window, you stopped watching Laura drive to patiently observe the landscape and enjoy the sound coming from the radio. Arms resting on top of the window area; such that it was completely open.

The wind hitting your face and the noise of cars passing at high speed was the only thing that dispersed you at that time.

And you stayed like that for long minutes, until the German woman stretched out her arm holding her own phone; delivering it to you.

❝ Ersatz. ❞ (change it) She spoke as if she were giving orders to a dog.

❝ Why? ❞ You turned back, showing enormous confusion on your face.

❝ Put whatever you want before I change my mind. ❞ Laura murmured without looking at you; Maybe because she was paying attention to the road or embarrassed to face you.

Suddenly, you had a huge smile on your face, the kind no one can't get rid of because it makes you so happy. You grabbed Laura's phone with the greatest desire and played any of your generic songs.

Freigang looked at you discreetly, putting a smile on that beautiful face. Despite everything, she loves to see you happy with every little thing.

❝ I must admit, you have good taste. ❞ You said as you slid your finger across the German girl's phone screen, looking at each song in her playlists.

Laura had great taste, it was undeniable. She listened to everything, but not everything. You two have different tastes - very different and distant tastes; like a line, where you were at one end and she was at the other.

❝ Glad you recognize that, Schätzchen. ❞ She laughed shamelessly, raising her hand again, but this time, to squeeze your cheek as if you were a baby.

❝ Ugh, hey! ❞ You grunted and laughed, carefully pushing the German woman's fingers close to your face. ❝ Stop being an idiot. ❞ You joked.

❝ I want an apology. ❞ Laura murmured, creating a pout on her lips.

You knew exactly what she meant by that.

❝ Apologies for what? I didn't do anything wrong, ma'am. ❞ You giggled.

❝ For complaining about my songs! ❞

You didn't answer, just looking at the shameless woman next to you. It was obvious what she wanted, Freigang always wants kisses from you.

And you couldn't deny them.

Your body automatically took charge of starting close enough to Laura, even though your belt was almost blocking it. Long fingers touched the midfielder's skin, so much so that she didn't take her eyes off the road, even though she knew what was getting.

Pressing your fingers to Freigang's chin and pulled her to your side, slowly so she wouldn't lose sight of the road. Your lips touched hers, like the thousand times this always happens.

Once, ten, maybe fifty times this has happened. You were totally used to giving her quick and magnificent 'sorry' kisses, and they always carried the same affection and love as always.

And Laura's reaction was always the same: laughing and blushing. Maybe she reacted like that because at that time it was playing some electric pop from the 90s.

❝ Stop laughing. You always laugh when we do this! ❞ You said giggling - in an embarrassed and angry tone.

❝ Sorry, but you tickle. ❞ What a lame excuse. In fact, Laura loves seeing how easily you give yourself to her.

You let go of the German woman's face with a little violence, returning to your seat properly. ❝ Pay attention to the road, Liebling. ❞ Your arms crossed automatically, obviously out of embarrassment.

She laughed once again ❝ Right. ❞

The last thing you remember is how Laura was smiling the whole trip and laughing to herself. It's funny how you always smother Freigang in a sea of ​​love and fun.

Well, this time, your songs stayed playing until the end. They stayed for so long that the German blonde memorized all the letters.

And you can say that with conviction, because to this day she sings these same songs. Maybe because these songs remind Laura of your kiss.

In the end, you remember every possible detail very well. Of everything Freigang has ever done to you, good or bad.

Casual moments that turn into formidable memories, memories that are stored in the touches between you and Laura; kept in your gallery.

You won't forget so easily, the same for your favorite German girl.

Stars don't disappear from the universe so quickly, much less your best memories with Laura Freigang.

GALLERY.

[sugartitstownley]

💙 A Trikey Lookbook 🧡

Here’s a collection of some fun Trikey stuff. I forgot Tumblr has a 10 image limit, so I had to combine some images, and there’s definitely going to be a part 2 and possibly part 3 because I have so many things in my gallery.

Warnings: Talk of violence but nothing too graphic, rude comments over weight, explicit language, sexual innuendos and but no actual smut.

Michael watches with a disapproving look as Trevor hangs up newspaper articles and images of their various dealings across town.

“T, do you have to hang it like it’s fuckin’ artwork?” Michael huffs, pointing at the paper on the upper left. “I feel like I’m comin’ too close to landing my ass in jail. That Lawrence guy named me for Christ’s sake — and it’s your fault!”

Trevor smirks. “Ah, come on, Mikey! It slipped out. Whats the big deal? We’ll be in a new town tomorrow.”

“The big deal is that I prefer not to have my name plastered on the evening news!”

“Relax,” Trevor rubs his hand up and down Michael’s tricep. “Wear it like a badge of honor. Your name is in the paper, and those idiots still have no idea who you are. You’re a fuckin’ legend!”

At that, Michael finally cracks a smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And you’re hot, too,” Trevor says while taping up the sticky note next to Michael’s picture, his smirk growing as he listens to the shorter man laugh beside him.

“Now that I knew already.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

Overplayed Christmas songs and the faint smell of gingerbread fill the house. Michael can barley make out the sound of Amanda griping to her father over his questions about her chosen profession and when she was going to “grow up.”

He knows he should be out there pretending to enjoy the family bickering and Christmas cheer, but he honestly feels like a fish out of water.

The family, the gift wrapping, the normalcy — it’s certainly better than any holiday he spent during his youth. Still, he can’t help but compare it to every year with his maniacal counterpart, Trevor.

“Mikey-boy, got those beers you were wanting,” Trevor says, dropping the six pack on to the motel bed. “I better be rewarded. It was hell out there.”

Michael glances over from his spot on the bed, his eyes immediately drawn to Trevor’s once-clean outfit that has now become disheveled and stained with dark red within the short time the man was gone. “The fuck happened?”

“This fucking family,” Trevor starts while stripping from his clothes, not bothering to warn Mike since it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. “All I did was tell the father to watch his fucking kids before they get hit by oncoming traffic.”

Michael, knowing there’s way more to the story than his partner in crime is telling him, shoots him a look. “Jesus Christ. Did you kill him in front of his kids?”

“What? No! God, M. Who do you think I am? I killed the kids first obviously since he clearly didn’t give a shit about them,” Trevor shrugs, pulling on a fresh pair of sweatpants.

Seeing Michael’s face pale, Trevor quickly continues. “I’m kidding! Sweet Jesus. I hit a deer, so I gutted him a little for meat. You’re welcome.”

Michael sighs softly, relieved that Trevor hasn’t done anything to prematurely set off alarm bells to local authorities for their next score. “Sorry, T. Just on edge, I think.”

“Come on,” Trevor grabs the beer pack and pulls Michael up by his hand, leading him over to their portable oven. “Let’s bake some cookies, probably ruin them since that’s our tradition, and then just watch one of those fruity fuckin’ movies you like.”

A knock on the door brings Michael out of his flashback, and a few seconds later, Amanda‘s head pops through the door, followed by her hands holding two decorated Christmas cookies.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Amanda asks, gesturing to the letter beneath his hand.

“Nothing, nothing,” He stands up, dropping the marker, vowing to finish the letter later and send it out in the morning. “I’m coming.”

He grabs the sugar cookie out of her hand and takes a bite as he follows her back into the living room. Somehow, the golden brown cookie with a soft center and a delicate balance of sweetness is no match for the dry and crumbly cookie sporting burnt edges and artificial flavors that he’s used to tasting every year with Trevor.

God, he misses him.

“How the hell did you even get into my office without security stopping you?”

Trevor looks up from his office chair at the Vanilla Unicorn to see Michael standing over him. “What?”

“This,” Michael drops the paper in front of the other man. “What does this mean, Trev? I thought we were over this shit.”

“First of all, Michael, I will decide when we are over it,” Trevor snaps. “Second — can’t a guy joke around anymore without there being some deeper, psychological reason for it?”

“With you? I think there’s always a deeper, psychological reason,” he grins. “But c’mon, how’d you get this in the studio?”

“I’m a seasoned robber, pork chop. Don’t you think I could get in without anyone knowing?”

“Uh, you’re more the type to be so loud and brash that everyone ends up knowing you’re there.”

Trevor shrugs, knowing his running buddy has some sort of point. “Alright, I told them we were married, and I needed to see you.”

Michael laughs, but his amusement is short lived when Trevor’s face stays earnest. “You didn’t.”

“I sure did, Mikey. And a few of those assholes weren’t very supportive, so you need to watch the company you keep, man.”

“Trevor! I work with those people! They all know I’m married to Amanda. What did they say? Were they shocked?”

“Not one soul was shocked,” Trevor huffs out a laugh. “Eighty percent of Vinewood is in the closet.”

Michael falters. “But … I’m not. I’m not —”

“I think we both know that’s not true, sugar.”

First dates. They were one hundred and ten percent first dates — or were they? What even is a date?

Longing looks, some sort of nerves, maybe a sprinkle of sexual tension for a lot of people — Christ. By that definition, he and Trevor had been on nothing but dates their whole lives with one another.

It’s not that Michael didn’t know there is something between them, but what that something is often eluded him.

He had miraculously talked Trevor into going to a Los Santos Panic game. Neither guy was a sports fanatic — Trevor choosing to forgo watching sports altogether for the most part because, in his words, “if I wanted to watch a bunch of guys touch balls, I’d just watch porn,” and Michael was undoubtedly more of a movie buff since most games only reminded him of what could have blossomed out of his high school football career.

Nonetheless, Michael indulged in a game or two — if not for the game itself, at least for the buttered popcorn and greasy hotdogs.

“You know that shit is bad for you, right? One day, I’m going to have to call the paramedics to haul your fat carcass out of the bed after you have a heart attack in your sleep.”

Michael rolls his eyes before halfheartedly giving Trevor a shove. “Ha, ha. Very funny, cocksucker.”

“It’s not a mean insult if it’s true, Mikey.”

Their next “date” is at Beachwalk Bistro near Vespucci Beach. Both men slipped into some unspoken agreement that they are delicately walking the line between friendship and more.

Michael fidgets with his napkin, glancing over at Trevor who seems uncharacteristically uneasy as well. The air crackles around them with an energy, a blend of nostalgic and unexplored feelings.

Michael clears his throat. “So, uh, how’s life?”

Trevor smirks, his eyes glistening with amusement. “How’s life? You mean since you last saw me yesterday?”

Michael gives a subtle sigh before changing the subject completely. “Amanda and I are getting divorced.”

At that, Trevor nods. “Yeah, Jimmy told me.”

A look of shock crosses Michael’s face, but before he can ask, the waiter comes over and interrupts them. They hastily place their orders before retreating into silence.

As the night unfolds, their conversation sticks — for the most part — around work, upcoming plans with Franklin and Lamar, and anything else but the emotions lingering beneath the surface. That doesn’t stop Trevor from brushing his hand against Michael’s while grabbing at his plate for a taste or Michael from taking an extra long glance at his best friend.

With plates emptied and stacked, they both leave the restaurant, choosing to make the short trek to Vespucci Beach and walk.

There is a hesitant pause before Trevor breaks the silence. “This wasn’t terrible, Mikey.”

“It was different.”

Trevor hums in agreement, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, different. In a good way.”

Their eyes met, a shared understanding between them. The unspoken tension that’s been building since Trevor made his way back into Michael’s life gave way to a warmth that only hinted at the depth of their connection.

Michael reached out his hand and tentatively linked his fingers through Trevor’s, and the taller man reciprocated immediately by giving a subtle squeeze.

“We’ve been through a lot of fucked up shit, Trev,” Michael says, stopping along the water to look at Trevor. “I know we’ve worked through most of it by now, but I didn’t really expect things to turn out like this.”

“Life’s full of surprises, sugar.”

Their eyes meet, and suddenly one — or both — are leaning in to finally close the distance. The first brush of their lips ignits the metaphorical spark that has been smoldering for months.

As they pull back, neither man is quick to say anything. Instead, Michael just tugs on Trevor’s hand, and they head down the beach once again.

“So, Mikey. Kissing your best friend on the beach under the moonlight. A little cliche, even for you, don’t you think?”

Michael just grins and shakes his head. “What? You’ve never had a fantasy?”

“Well, there was one,” Trevor starts. “We kill a bunch of those bikers, dump their bodies in the river, then fuck in their van — or keep their bodies in the van … you know, if you’re into that.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Michael mutters. “Let’s just keep our thoughts to ourselves from now on.”

“Your loss.”

Yeah, they were definitely dates.

“You’re ‘embarrassed’ for us? You’re the one who spray-painted that in the first place!”

“I was trying to be loving,” Trevor huffs. “At least I didn’t take a picture of my meal like I’m a middle-aged white mom on Lifeinvader.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael says, running his hands through Trevor’s grown-out hair. “Make fun all you want. You wrote ‘Trevor plus Mikey’ on the wall. You love me.”

“Shut the fuck up before I tell Amanda about the time you wore her underwear.”

Michael points a finger at his boyfriend. “That was one god damn time, and it was only because you asked.”

Trevor laughs. “You looked pretty, sugar. Don’t worry.”

“You can’t avoid her forever, Mikey.”

Michael groans, his head resting in his hands as he lays on their shared bed. “Tracey saw the notes, T. She knows.”

“Well, we do live together now. I’m pretty sure she already knows.”

“No,” Michael drops his hands to meet Trevor’s eyes. “Christ. She knows what the notes said. How the fuck can I look her in the eyes now?”

Trevor’s face scrunches up in confusion. “You divorced her mom to shack up with her uncle. How the fuck could you look her in the eyes before?”

Michael tries to glare at him, but it doesn’t come off as menacing as years prior — it never does now. “I know you ain’t wrong, but you don’t have to say it.”

“She loves you. Stop worrying.”

“But —”

“‘No buts,” Trevor cuts him off, placing a kiss on the top of his head. “She just wants you happy. So stop moping like a sad sack of shit and come cuddle me.”

“Now who’s the one hanging shit like it’s art?”

Michael feels Trevor wrap his arms around him from behind and place a kiss on his neck. “What do you mean, T?”

“Has your memory deteriorated already? You used to hate when I’d pin up pictures of our various … activities.”

“That was different,” Michael links one of his hands with Trevor’s, who are still wrapped around his waist, and uses the other one to sort through more photos before landing on one. “Do you remember this night back in North Yankton?”

Trevor lets his gaze fall down to the photo, which shows a young Michael and Trevor sporting a buzz cut and long hair respectively. They’re standing in front of a fire, the soft glow from the flames highlighting their features. Trevor, who has one arm around the shorter man’s shoulders is flipping off the camera, and Michael is smirking up at Trevor like he just said something amusing before the flash went off.

“Sure do, pork chop,” Trevor says. “Think Brad took this one. More importantly, I couldn’t forget this night if I tried. Your questionable singing still haunts my nightmares.”

Michael chuckles, reaching for another photo. “I thought I sounded pretty good.”

“Keep dreaming,” Trevor unwraps his arms around Michael to look through the remaining photos. “Can I add stuff to this board too?”

“So long as it doesn’t scar anyone,” Michael jokes.

“No promises, Mikey.”

[carlosainzgf]

till the sun comes up

part 2 of handle me if you can

miguel o’hara x f!reader

warnings: unprotected piv, degrading, dirty talk

through the meeting all you could think about was how he felt on your skin. he left you waiting and even though he said you'll get what you want when you stop being a tease but that wouldn't stop you. so as he exchanged ideas with the team as the sun went down. you pulled out your phone to send a photo to miguel. a suggestive photo, to be exact.

you scrolled through your gallery to find the perfect image to send him. you decided on sending him a photo of you wearing a red lingerie set that covered, oh, so little. the red fabric only covered your nipples and the smallest amount of meat of your pussy. you hit 'sent' and heard his phone ding and immediately looked at him to see his reaction.

he looked at his phone and then looked at you questioningly when he saw your name. you just raised your eyebrows innocently in response. he rolled his eyes and clicked on the notification. his half lidded eyes widened in surprise and immediately closed his phone and slapped it on the table. everyone turned their head to look at him due to the loud noise caused by him as you just giggled silently.

"we can, um- that's all for today. you can go...thank you guys." he stuttered out as his eyes shot daggers at you.

everyone gathered their stuff and walked out while you took your time because you knew you and miguel had something else to take care of. as you slowly walked towards the door you felt miguels big hand holding you by the back of your neck and harshly turning you around for you to face him.

"what do you think you're doing? sending me those pictures... fucking attention slut." he gritted out between his teeth as his grip on your neck got harder.

"well if you hadn't left me on your desk waiting, i wouldn't have done that." you said as you batted your eyes at him, looking all innocent.

"you don't have to wait no more now because i'm gonna fuck you till the sun comes back up."

he bent you over the desk and leaned in close to your ear.

"gonna make sure this pussy is raw and thoroughly fucked, baby... gonna fill you up so good, you'll be dripping with my cum for days." his words alone made you moan. he chuckled at the sight.

the room smelled strongly of sex and sweat, loud moans along with praise mixed with degrading echoing from the walls. you've been at it for hours, the desk -where your teammates and you will have a meeting at- were wet with sweat and other bodily fluids, your ass felt hot from all the spanks Miguel generously delivered. your throat felt sore from all the moaning.

miguel yanked your hips up higher, getting a firm grip on your waist; he shifted a bit, placing one foot on the desk for better range of movements. a string of loud mewls along with shameless moans poured out of your swollen lips.

he pounded your poor dripping pussy with so much force that your body shifted forward with each thrust, heavy balls slapping against your clammy skin with loud smacking sounds.

"love this needy fucking pussy... taking my cock like the slut you are—shit!" he said between gasps. the pads of two of his thick fingers reached down to your clit, rubbing smooth circles into the sensitive bud as he looked at the curve of your waist and the fat of your ass moving with each of his firm thrusts.

you pathetically held onto the edges of the desk, trying to balance yourself as you were reaching your climax which made your legs shake. his eyes went soft before he leaned down to kiss your shoulder, "my pretty girl... that's it, let go f’me.”

your eyes snapped shut, hot waves of pleasure washed over you, your fucked out cunt squeezing around miguel's cock, coating your thighs and his body, too.

he groaned deeply at the feeling of you, as his thrusts picked up speed, the slapping of your skin louder due to your slick. his heavy balls smacked against your ass, tightening as he edged himself closer and closer to finishing.

his hips stuttered, a low set of curse words left his mouth as he pulled out. his hand stroked his length once or twice and he was spurting thick loads of warm cum on your ass, coating it.

as you both rode through your orgasms you saw sunlight coming in from the windows. “look at that, miggy…you really did fuck me till the sun came up, huh.”

[xycuro-illuminati]

Bitter exes stuntdevil lore masterpost

Ok so here's the full lore of the bitter exes stuntdevil (Daredevil/Stunt Master divorce) story with how it went down and everything lol (images have alt text)

Big reminder that this would be my version of DD so keep in mind that Matt is Latino here and that I will be taking certain elements from shadowlands here (I'm sorry fellow dd mutuals I just like the whole demon possession aspect by itself. I don't like shadowlands and I think it sucks I just wished they made him into an actual beast demon yknow).

To give a summary of how it goes: The Hand is not involved with the Beast demon at all, they're not going to show up whatsoever. In this version, the beast demon is just a parasitic demon that was hiding in a flower that a group of cultists summoned and when Danny Rand and Matt went to investigate, Matt got too close and was exposed to the pollen, therefore, got infected. The beast demon would shut off his nervous system over time and made Matt unaware of things before completely taking over and transforming him into a monstrous demon that acts like a zombie. Matt would be in a comatose state while the Beast demon was using his body and did whatever it wanted and fed off negative energy. Shadowlands isn't a big marvel event, it just lasted for a short time with only the Heroes for Hire involved and after the exorcism (here's the art showcasing that), Matt was left in a distraught state where he wanted to rebuild himself and clear his head since all he could remember was strangling Foggy (comic here). It made him feel not only horrible and guilty, but he also felt like a burden bc Foggy was juggling between running the law firm and visiting Matt to help him recover. During this, Matt wanted to go back to San Francisco to try to regain his footing again and Foggy decided to let him do so thinking it might help him. It would be this version of the Daredevil Reborn arc (or at least, takes place after it).

And that's where Stunt Master comes in.

For those that don't know who Stunt Master is, George Smith was one of the early villains in Matt's rogues gallery dating all the way back to volume 1. He's a classic vol 1 type villain that wants nothing but fame and fortune, along with getting in Matt's way. His dynamic with Matt during that time was standard antagonist interaction but they also held a playful banter along with some really strong trust bonds and some homoerotic dialogue as per usual.

However, during the Death's Head arc, George has a change of heart after being forced to kidnap Karen Page and wanted to be good. He lead Ghost Rider (Johnny Blaze) and Matt to Death's Head and the three of them stopped him. After this interaction, George was no longer considered a villain and even becomes friends with Johnny during the older runs (which he originally met up with Ghost Rider bc he wanted to make up to Matt for his kindness).

George doesn't show up that much again but going back to where Matt is going through it post demonic possession: the two of them meet up. Matt tells him his identity as Daredevil and what happened during their catching up, and George tries to help him out by going on stunt rides to help get Matt's mind off of things. Since Matt had felt like a burden before, for George to treat him as if nothing changed, it made Matt feel better in some weird way. That was how Matt fell madly in love with George. All those wild stunts and running around as vigilantes, plus Matt being in a vulnerable mental state, it all added up for Matt to quickly attach himself to George and would do anything for him.

Matt and George began dating and Matt adopted some of George's cowboy aesthetics into his costume.

At first, they were doing a few good things here and there trying to do the right thing. But George has always wanted fame and fortune, so that fame got to his head and he started to fall back to his old criminal ways. Unfortunately, because Matt was so down bad and lovesick, he went along with it without acknowledging the repercussions. Matt returned to NYC to reunite with Foggy, but after Foggy learned about what George was doing, he wasn't a fan of this relationship (literally the smartest mf here and yes, Foggy was PISSED OFF rightfully so). Matt was getting worse and worse over the few months, and he eventually ditched the law firm and left Foggy to deal with work by himself while he and George went on a road trip to Las Vegas where they eventually got married there. Matt fully adopted the cowboy aesthetic and had a criminal cowboy daredevil suit made for him as both a wedding suit and a vigilante costume.

The two idiots kept causing a shit ton of crime including vandalism and theft, specifically robbing trains. Some of those crimes eventually caught Johnny Blaze's attention, making him surprised that his good ol' friend George was going back to being a criminal again. When Johnny confronted them, George rambled about wanting fame again and that any attention is good attention no matter what. Matt had even convinced George that Johnny's disapproval shouldn't mean anything to him, to which made Johnny believe that Matt was enabling him (here's the full comic that I drew here).

(It's also a little secret addition to this little exchange where Johnny expresses how he feels about Daredevil when asked:

Doesn't wanna say anything about the whole cowboy phase so he says this instead lol. But that's just me).

The three of them started beef with each other so whenever Ghost Rider was involved, it was a whole shit show.

(Full post of this image here)

Matt and Johnny fought the most while George would either watch from afar and root for Matt or continue with whatever scheme they were up to. Along with all of this happening, post marriage was starting to make Matt slowly wake up from his lovesick phase and he was realizing that George was not a good partner after all. The two would get into petty arguments while also doing some headass shit to spite the other. George was insensitive to Matt's feelings while Matt would constantly ignore George whenever he tried talking to him. Not only that, George was so bad at sex that Matt completely lost his sex drive. These two were not a good couple and over the year, Matt was slowly figuring that out.

George has done shit from putting the motorcycle in the bed, only caring about The Mets and watching their games during sex, played the worst disco songs Matt has ever heard, and he was overall just a shitty partner. The two of them eventually fell out of love and barely tolerated each other, whether it was during domestic moments or during their crime schemes.

At one point during a fight, Ghost Rider ruined the veil on Matt's suit along with using a heated chain on him and burned a section of Matt's left bicep. After that fight, Matt realized that fighting Ghost Rider for George wasn't worth any risk and refused to fight Johnny no matter what George says. George went after Ghost Rider by himself only to get absolutely smoked while his costume got tarnished in the process.

Matt later on went back to NYC to visit Foggy, and by visit, he basically showed up at Foggy's doorstep in the middle of the night during a rainstorm while still wearing the cowboy outfit.

Foggy was reluctant at first, but Matt admits being a stupid fucking idiot and apologizes for leaving Foggy to run the law firm by himself. After being let in, Matt begs Foggy to help him divorce George, and Foggy agrees to help him out just this once. Matt goes back to George to talk to him and after another argument, they both agree on getting a divorce since at this point they can't stand being around each other anymore.

After the divorce, Matt was finally improving on himself and then the events of vol 3 and 4 starts. During Matt's whole identity-being-revealed, whenever someone asks him about the whole cowboy Daredevil fiasco back in San Francisco, Matt made up the excuse that the cowboy Daredevil wasn't him but instead some random guy. A faker. An imposter, if you will.

George comes back during vol 4 in issues 11-12 where he decides to take the opportunity for more fame and fortune by orchestrating the entire Kid Stunt Master arc where he faked his own suicide and took drugs to make sure Matt couldn't tell he was lying. He also did this to spite Matt as well so there's that to add onto.

Since it's been a few years after interacting with each other and George (pretending to be) being desperate for his help, Matt decided to give him a chance and had truly believed that George had changed over the years. And Matt was genuinely sadden over his (fake) suicide.

Matt started reminiscing the good ol' days when they were friends and even the beginning days of their developing relationship. Of course, after finding out the truth of George orchestrating the entire thing, Matt quickly snuffed out those reminiscing feelings and went straight back to completely hating on George.

After that ordeal, he wants his ex husband to get hit by a truck. He wants nothing to do with George Smith whatsoever.

After Kirsten learned about the entire divorce, her, Matt, and Foggy decide to celebrate the divorce date as a fun little anniversary. A few years later, Johnny and Matt finally sit down and have a conversation about the whole criminal cowboy phase and after learning both perspectives, there was an understanding (comic I drew here). But despite learning the truth, Matt and Johnny still have some grievances between each other, they just learn to keep a distance and be respectful when necessary.

Which is why there's a hate triangle guide I made for the three in the first place lmao.

There you go, that's the entire lore for this crack hateship of mine. If I were an official Marvel writer, I would definitely use this to reveal Matt's bisexuality being canon. It would be the worst way to reveal a bi character but it would be so funny and so worth it.

Here's a playlist of it. If you have any cheesy, funny, or over the top dramatic bad break up songs lmk I'll add it to the list.

[just2bubbly]

I know this can be a bit distressing but I want a story where Kai is older where he remembers his love what he still feels for Cinder, this is just a story please thanks for the answer

Masterlist

Thank you for sending in this ask, nonnie, it was a bit distressing since I couldn't find a new reason to make these two fall apart but not to worry about that, I used my big brain and was creative enough to make something up. Hoping it serves you well! :)

Old Roses on a Summer Breeze

Ship: Kaider

Words: 1.7k

Genre: Angst

A/N: SOSN isn't canon in this fic, Future fic

Kai's Perspective:

"Yes, Torin. Do make time on my schedule for this coming Saturday evening. There's an event at Tara's school." He informs, shuffling through the pages of the manuscript Torin had brought.

"Are you the guest?" 

"Ha, for once I'm not. They have some school performance, I'm going to see her," he says.

Torin smiles fondly, both the men thinking about the little kid that made Palace delightful. 

"Boo!" someone cheered loudly.

"Fu- oh my stars," he cuts his swear word as he sees Tara," we did talk about this, no coming here alone."

"But Da, I wanted to surprise you," she reasoned.

"I mentioned it multiple times, Da's office has important documents." 

"Well I came in to show you something," she said, trying to save herself from scoldings.

"And couldn't it wait till we sat down for dinner?"

"Maybe not," she goes, coming ahead to sit in the chair before him.

Kai nods at her antics, Torin eyeing him. 

Sighing he closes the document he was reading, "Then off it with, love."

"Can Torin-da give us a moment?" she asks politely.

"Tara, are you sure it can't wait till dinner, I have some work to complete."

"I'd take only 5 minutes," she begged, making puppy eyes at him.

"Kai, it's ok. I'd come back again in a while. Does that work fine for you Tara?" Torin chuckled, coming to rescue the child.

"You are the best, Torin-da!" she announced, giving him a cheeky smile.

Exasperated, Kai gave in to their schemes, signalling to his advisor that he would ring him once he was done with Tara. His daughter brought her precious thing to his table as soon as Torin was out of the room. 

"I drew us," she says with pride lacing her voice, "You, me and Mama."

"That's wonderful. Can I see it?" He requested.

"Obviously," Tara murmurs, her words carrying a trace of sarcasm, a trait she had inherited from him.

The picture she drew was wonderful and he wasn't biased towards his daughter. She had a certain level of artistic skills that was beyond her age. She drew pictures better than her parents, provided none of them were good artists themselves.

"You will be such a fantastic artist in the future. I have to admit you look very beautiful in this," he comments.

"You always say I look beautiful," she said accusingly.

"Because you always do," he chuckled.

"Would you like to hang it?" she questioned. 

"Maybe. We can put it in the drawing room or the living room."

"I mean in the office," she clarifies.

"Oh," he says," You think so?"

"Yes, you have a portrait of you and Mum and me when I was a kid. You don't have a family picture at your desk," she explains.

"That's quite thoughtful of you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you are clever to notice I don't have a family photo at the desk."

She nods and remembering her manners she thanks him.

"I think my desk has too many pictures already, how about we hang it on the wall? So every time you come here you can see it."

"But you said not to come in here."

"And let's change that to when 'you come here accompanied'."

He cleared as they walked towards the gallery in his cabin, where he had hung images of significant events in his life. His parents and him, later his dad and him, Torin and his family, his wedding day, Tara's birth and so many uncountable events.

"We would have to remove something for this to fit in?" he said aloud.

"We could remove that one," she said pointing out to a frame in the top left corner.

"Let me see," he said looking towards the picture she pointed. It was the Rampion Crew on Scarlet and Wolf's wedding day, young people with dreams of immense happiness. 

"That has many of Da's friends. Maybe something else," he convinced, trying to not think much about the picture.

"I have never seen them. Why don't you invite them for New Year like we invite Mum's friends?"

"They live far away and are just too busy to come, Tara."

"Friends make time for each other, that's what Mum says," she countered. 

Having nothing to say to that, he changes the topic," Let's find some other picture."

"This one? " she suggested to the set of the same individuals in different places.

"Maybe we could take that one down," he concedes unwillingly.

They do remove it, much against his wish. Once they do, he smoothens the corner of his daughter's drawing to put in the frame. 

"Tada," she cheered when their work was done, both staring at the wall. 

"It does look nice," he admires.

"I'm born talented," she bragged, drawing a chuckle out of Kai. Tara is lost in her moment of glory and pride, her father holding himself from going down a path of nostalgia and grief. 

"Are you sad because we removed your friends from your gallery?"

"No darling, Da is so happy to see your drawing in his gallery."

"Then do you miss your friends?"

"Yes, Da is sad because he misses his friends," he says, trying to keep his sorrow from coming back to him. 

"Then you can call them and tell them you miss them," she suggests like a wise lady. He wishes he could find enough courage to do so.

"This New Year, we will invite them over. What do you say?" he asks, taking his child in his arms and carrying her to the couch. 

"Yes, I'm excited to meet all your friends," she cheered, her hands taking the old photo from the table and looking at it closely. 

"I know this lady. Teacher Yamin taught us about her. She is the Queen of Luna before forming a demo-mo something," she fumbles "--democratic government," Kai provides.

"Yes, she is the Queen Selene Blackburn of Luna, the last of her lineage," Kai explained, but to him, she was just Cinder, the mechanic, the revolutionary, one of his past mistakes- nothing that Tara needed to know. 

"I didn't know you were friends with the Queen, Da."

"I'm friends with the Queen, I'm friends with a lot of famous people. Even Queen Camilla."

"You don't have Queen Camilla's picture on the wall," she pointed. 

His daughter was a wise lady he thought.

"Queen Selene was better friends than Queen Camilla," he explained. 

"How is she?" she asked incredulously.

"Like all Queens are, Tara." He gave away nothing, Cinder had no place in his present especially not as a role model for his daughter. Daiyu was enough of a role model for her.

Before she could go on being a curious child, Kai decided to cut the conversation short. Glancing at the time and in relief said, "Your time's up, love. Torin must be waiting for me. I'd see you at dinner."

She said her goodbyes and walked out of the room, leaving Kai sitting behind on the couch. 

Going against his better judgment, he picked that photograph. It was years ago- when Kai's only worry was being able to follow in his father's footsteps. Cress had clicked it while Thorne and Cinder had teased him to no end about his first time eating street food. Those were some happy days, he remembered. 

He stood up, walked towards the wall and smiled proudly over his daughter's drawing. His eyes were drawn slowly to the other pictures on the wall, the ones he hadn't paid much attention to in the latter years.

Scarlet's wedding, Cinder's coronation, the first Lunar Ball, Kai's failed attempts at baking cakes- some scattered images of friendship and love all hung around on this very wall. 

With how slowly things fell apart, Kai didn't have much scope to pinpoint where things went wrong. One moment there were talks of forever and the other moment he had just never found time to know her, for her to know him. When visits became infrequent and talks always began with 'talk to you later', Kai knew it was a slow change but it had crept on them like dust being ladden on old clothes. And just like that he didn't feel so giddy about proposing and when they had opportunities to meet his excitement had a lingering feeling of impending doom. 

Kai was 18 when he fell in love with Cinder, 6 when he was fascinated with Selene and at 25 he had fallen out of love with both Cinder and Selene. Somewhere along the way she did too. No one to blame but themselves- not the distance or prejudice that separated them. Just not quite knowing each other after years of dating, "You were the best thing that happened to me, Kai." She had said the last time they had talked. 

From what he had learned, Cinder had moved on quickly too. Just because you find new people doesn't mean you stop loving old ones, Kai even after his marriage and children was still harbouring a soft spot for Cinder. No remorse over his situation now, he won't change his wife and daughter for anything in the world. He just felt sad over a possibility that could have happened if he was a simple man with basic needs. He had found his love in Cinder and his forever in Daiyu, his feelings for Cinder were just a recollection of the past like old roses on a summer breeze. Something pain strikingly beautiful but not meant for you. 

The phone rang and saved him from further getting carried down an old road he had memorised by heart. It was Torin.

"Yes, she went. You can come along. Also could you please arrange a box for me, I'd like to keep some things aside," he requested.

He collected all of the images of his friends and set them aside. If Tara continued her musings, he would need a bigger space to hang her paintings. Only one remained, Cinder's coronation with all of them smiling down at the camera thinking they had seen the worst of days.

_

A/N: This fic felt like writing about 'Sometimes Love Stays' from Kai's perspective and it's just better to accept things and move on than lament over it and I know it's easier said than done but it's the harsh truth, I hate it too.

Taglist: @gingerale2017 @salt-warrior @slmkaider @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @impossiblesuitcase @kaider-is-my-otp @cosmicnovaflare @fangirlforever0704 and lemme know if anyone wants to be tagged.

[g0dspeeed]

A Taste

John Seed told her he was simply "curious". A hookup with her ex's sibling proves to Cappie De la Costa that there might be more to it than that.

Sexual content ahead

Cappie couldn't tell what it was that stirred her, but upon feeling something warm tickle her inner thigh, she knew the answer wasn't a complicated one. 

Her head rose from the cold, wood floor, the effort sending it swimming with the familiar aches of a hangover, all to regard a very sleepy, very naked, John Seed snoozing between her legs, his cheek rested on the soft skin of her inner thigh and breath fluttering against her sex.

"The fuck?"

Voice was raw and her throat stung, the act of swallowing monumental for Cappie. Everything hurt from her thighs, her neck, and her arms. As she laid out on her back, her bare skin was chilled by what she recognized to be the floor of his bedroom. Their clothes were scattered about the sunlit room amongst broken wine glasses, a knocked over crystal decanter beside what she guessed was a puddle of bourbon, countless cigarette butts, a lotion bottle, two dabs, condom wrappers–

Her green eyes zeroed in on the last items, the scraps of thin foil.

"No…"

"Oh, yes."

Horrified, Cappie stared down at the bright blue eyes peering up from the apex of her thighs, unaffected by his position inches from her pussy.

"Good morning," he crooned in a rasp. 

John then had the audacity to regard her crotch, eyes hooded and dreamy.

"Good morning to you, too," he whispered.

Her legs snapped shut, closing his head in a vice grip. Twisting her hips was all it would take to end John's life, to crack his neck, but Cappie had enough impulse control to override the automatic thought.

"Don't ever talk to my pussy again," she hissed.

The hold loosened and of course John responded to her warning with a grin.

"Last night teemed with riveting conversation, at least what I recall. And I can still taste you. I hope I don't forget–"

His words were cut off as Cappie made a move to rise from the floor with shaking legs.

She could feel John scrutinize her, and when her own eyes observed where his landed, Cappie flinched.

Her skin was a muddied canvas of their late night affairs. Bruises the size of fingertips speckled her wrists, hips, shoulders, and thighs, along with a smathering of suck marks all over her neck, breasts, and legs. Cappie became aware of the burning sensation at the cheeks of her ass, no doubt that the flesh there, too, would bear a gallery of–

"You're disgusted."

The words were spoken aloud with a smile, but Cappie was observant, too. In his voice lived an anger. The voice stirred with accusation in it's cadence.

So she laughed.

"Nah, ain't disgusted," she breezed. "Just shocked, I guess."

His smile faltered, and in the rare speechlessness of one John Seed, Cappie saw her own handiwork. His skin bloomed with bruises, scratches, and nips of teeth, a trail of hickeys from his neck to the border of his sparse, pubic hair. Her brows lifted at the line of purple on his right wrist.

"Kinky shit," she blurted.

"Hardly," he sniffed. "But your enthusiasm was certainly enamoring."

"Oh, enamoring? Ha! You were pretty excited yourself there, pretty boy."

John rose from the floor, his joints popping as he straightened and stretched. He chuckled at the way her cheeks warmed, at the coyness daylight brought.

Cappie De La Costa was far from his typical interest. Lean with the toned frame of an athlete that had no business for someone who drank and smoked so much, she lacked the softness John usually found himself drawn to, save for her full ass, he could admit. 

Blunt, brazen, and impulsive. An arbiter of mischief and a grater of his nerves, she repulsed him on purpose and flirted with his temper.

Never would admit it to her face, but John, too, found himself shocked at how erotic their coupling was the night before, his mind supplying images and sensations from the fun and games in rapid fire.

"Maybe I still am," chided John, his eyes drifting over her breasts and sex. Cappie could see how his pupils already started to swallow the blue.

Not to be outdone, Cappie took a step closer. Their smiles matched, devilish and wont for tasting, as her hand reached out to cup his balls and tug at his half hard cock. She relished in the small gasp that left him.

"Sure you are," challenged Cappie. "All talk–"

Fingers then dug into her scalp as John pulled her mouth to his, his trim nails tangling her hair and scraping the tender skin. The kiss hurt before she allowed him more access, his tongue urgent as a groan hummed in his throat.

Their kiss broke as Cappie moved back to the untouched bed, her thighs hitting the edge of the king sized mattress and the cool softness of the navy silk topper. John allowed no more than a foot between them, already following and making her move up the mattress in a rush, blue eyes committing to memory the way her chest rose and fell with hardened nipples, green eyes dilated, and how that signature cheeky smile spread across her plump lips. His own latched on to her throat as Cappie settled back with a sigh, enthused as she gasped when his fingers, those twitchy things, dipped to her sex and found her wet. He sucked hard on her pulse to leave a bruise atop a bruise.

Cappie writhed at his touch, at how he worked her quick and to the point without any fanfare. That's how it was the night before, she remembered, between dabbles of substance use they fucked each other into oblivion, smearing pleasure and pain like watercolors. 

Dark locks of hair were gripped in her hand to yank John away from her throat. The muscles in his face twisted at the discomfort.

"Just do it," she groaned in the shell of his ear. Her hips rolled, starving for stimulation and earning a circling of her clit with the heel of his palm. "Just, just do it–"

John silenced her with his mouth again before rasping, "Take a deep breath."

Cappie did just that as his cock shoved all the way inside her, leaving no time for adjusting. She arched at how he filled her, at the sting of his fingernails in her thighs, the heat of his own gasp.

"Fuck! " he bit out with clenched eyes.

She laughed something breathy and cupped his cheek.

"You almost lost it, didn't you?" Cappie teased, rolling into him. "Almost came like a, like a fucking teenager–"

His hips snapped, burying himself deeper, and shutting Cappie up.

"Please," mocked John while moving to seat her in his lap, lifting her so he could kneel on both knees. "Don't flatter yourself."

The annoyance in his features fell away with each thrust and the lift of her cries.

He knew what he was doing, Cappie could give John that much, and boy was he a sight. 

Locks of dark hair that were typically stylized in top dollar pomade stuck to the sheen of sweat on his forehead, if not falling over blackened, hooded eyes. The gallery of scars and tattoos glistened in the sun, flesh flush and lean muscle flexing underneath. His full lips, swollen from her own, gaped as he worshiped her, at their joining, at the way John made her breasts bounce with each harsh snap of the hips and the little curses that fell from her mouth like prayers.

And when John caught her, caught Cappie marveling at his body, at the fullness, the friction, drunk on how he made her feel, his pace slowed.

"I get it now," he breathed.

Fingers rubbed at her clit, harsh, forcing her eyes shut and her body to arch.

"I get what all the hype was about. Why Jacob neglected his part so much. You're fucking addicting."

In a last ditch effort to shut John up and to chase that delicious end that he teased so well at her core, Cappie shifted her leg to rest against his shoulder. A warm hand steaded her thigh, grip tight and massaging the thick muscle. John spread Cappie to slot himself with a sloppy kiss against her calf.

A flicker of uncertainty, a foreign thing that didn't seem to belong there, danced across the features of John's face.

Cappie smirked and pat his hip.

"Spit it out, Johnny."

Little crescents joined the bruises on her legs, a punishment for her teasing, she knew, but Cappie didn't care. Her emerald eyes held their playful light, much to John's chagrin, and didn't break the magnetism in the pull of his stare.

"You can."

The words were small and quiet.

But she said them again.

"You can," she whispered with a roll of the hips. "Just fucking fuck me ,  John, Christ."

Never until meeting John Seed did Cappie see madness spread like wildfire so fast in the mind. It overcame him the moment her words registered, in the blues of his eyes, the twitch of his lips, the pace quickening and brutal. The fire that had dulled from his uncertainty roared as his heated body crowded hers, as he folded her because holding her leg just wasn't enough, John had to kiss her, to bite her, to taste her as he buried himself deeper and deeper.

Cappie came in a cry, in writhing, and against a rough kiss. 

A hand snatched her jaw, forcing her to face him, to witness. 

In her sweaty, twitchy high Cappie grinned up at John, watching as his face twisted and his hips stuttered, becoming erratic and wild like his thoughts. He came against her throat, against her fluttering pulse, buried inside her and with a sharp 'Fuck'. John all but collapsed on Cappie, panting and running an open palm up and down her body.

Green eyes observed the elaborate woodwork of his bedroom ceiling, at the twisted iron of the overhead light. Dramatic, but Cappie didn't know why she was surprised.

John still was inside her, softening and quivering. His arms trembled, but he seemed resolved to make their coupling last.

Her tongue wet her lips before she spoke.

"Never thought you as a cuddler–"

"And I never thought you to be so quick to move on from a breakup, but alas, I don't want to let you go. Don't think I could now."

She winced at the wetness of his pulling out, at his victorious smile, and how his words both excited and wounded her tender feelings at the same time.

John laid on his side to hold her face in the palm of his hand, against the scarred cheek to loom over, to pick through her thoughts like a scavenging animal. 

"A stranger to tenderness, aren't you?" she replied. 

He laughed, but there is no humor in the echoes of his high ceilings.

"You're deflecting," cooed John.

"Mm-hm–"

"Horribly so."

"'Kay, ass, then why did you come to the Spread Eagle last night?"

John grinned, all white teeth and vibrant blue eyes.

"I was curious."

Her brow knit, but he continued on. Those devilish fingers found her hair, twirling a curl.

"Jacob just seemed so… sad and told Joseph that he was committed to our cause now more than ever before."

A lump as thick as wet sand formed in her throat, but Cappie shook off the sting of his explanation.

"He, he said that?" she asked.

John paused to think, to torture her, and cocked his head.

"In less words, but yes. And I thought it odd. So 'busy' in the last year, and suddenly so dedicated."

"You're such an asshole–"

"Fine, sure, I'm an asshole, but I had to know–"

"Know what?"

His mouth was upon hers the moment the words fell out, capturing whatever upper hand Cappie thought she had. She gasped at the prick of pain she felt from his teeth to her bottom lip.

"I had to know," he breathed, hot and rasped in the shell of her ear . "I had to know if your madness matched mine. If you're as unhinged as me, as trapped as me. And I think it does. And I meant it. Oh, did I mean it! Now that I have a taste, I don't think I could quit you. I don't want to let go."

Before Cappie could find any words to respond to that , John released her. He pinched a nipple, laughing as Cappie cried and failed to slap him.

"Come shower with me, darling," he sang. "Let me take care of you!"

The echoes of his light footfalls quieted, leaving Cappie in a stupor of a good fuck and turmoil.

"Fuck."

[justforbooks]

Roger Bamber, who has died of lung cancer aged 78, was a leading photojournalist covering music, riots and politics for British newspapers from the Sun to the Guardian. He won photographer of the year for each of those newspapers – a unique achievement.

While at the Sun, he snapped one of the defining images of Freddie Mercury performing at Live Aid in 1985. Among his many memorable photographs for the Guardian is a black-and-white image of a lone boy on Brighton beach, pointing and laughing at a Punch and Judy show. The simple, yet perfect image was part of Roger’s portfolio when he won the photographer of the year award for the Guardian in 1992.

Roger had begun working as a freelance for the Observer in 1988, then the Guardian soon after I had arrived to run the picture desk and was charged by the then editor, Peter Preston, to take on the Independent – which had made a name for itself with its great photography.

Through his slew of awards and accolades, as well as his eye for a good picture and endless energy and enthusiasm, Roger helped our team to do just that. It was my belief that readers of the Guardian visited art galleries and watched good television and films, and, as such, they deserved to be stimulated by the photographs they looked at in the Guardian. Bamber’s pictures made the reader think and smile and even look twice. He was a picture editor’s dream.

A true pictorialist, he enjoyed capturing the beauty of shape and form, always with a wry sense of humour and even a twist of anarchy. He specialised in finding quirky people in arts and crafts up and down the country who he instinctively knew would make great photographs. Roger was a lover of trains, and one of his best photographs, entitled The Station Under the Station, shows an avid collector as a giant, looking through a miniature station at his beloved train set. The sense of scale in the image is extraordinary, and looked incredible in the paper.

He would photograph the same scene 50 times from ever so slightly different angles. To me it often looked like the same picture on six different contact sheets – sometimes I just used a pin and randomly chose one; they were all great.

Born in Leicester, Roger was the younger of two children of Vera (nee Stephenson), who worked in the local textile industry, and Fred Bamber, a telephone operator. It was while growing up close to the Great Central Railway line that Roger developed his fascination with steam trains, which was to become a lifelong obsession.

In 1960, after leaving Beaumont Leys secondary school aged 16, Roger began a graphic art course at Leicester College of Art. But once he had blown his entire year’s £80 student grant to upgrade his Rolleicord camera to a Nikon, it was clear that his future lay in photography, and, after graduation in 1963, he worked as junior photographer for a local advertising agency, Fleetway Publications. The following year, the college launched its first photography course, and Roger was invited back to teach on it, aged only 19.

A year later, in 1965, on his first day in London shopping his portfolio around, Roger got his first Fleet Street job, covering news and features for the Daily Mail, then a broadsheet. While there, he won commercial and industrial photographer of the year in the British Press Awards (1967).

In November 1969, he was poached by the launch team of Rupert Murdoch’s new project – the tabloid Sun newspaper. Over the 19 years he spent there he covered hard news and soft features all over the world, from war to rock and pop, and won many awards, including photographer of the year for his 1973 image of a bloodied, injured barrister being helped to safety after the IRA bombed the Old Bailey.

During this time, he hung out on tour with the likes of David Bowie and the Rolling Stones. A handwritten note on hotel stationery from 1976 confirms the Stones granted him permission to photograph rehearsals for the first night of their European tour, at the Festhalle, Frankfurt. A 1983 image of Mick Jagger and Jerry Hall in Barbados depicts Jagger strumming a guitar and laughing his head off, not because Hall is pregnant with their first child, Elizabeth, but because Roger had been swallowed up by a huge wave – nevertheless he got his picture.

Roger had moved to Brighton in 1973, and in 1999 he worked with Brighton and Hove council in its bid for city status, his portraits and images of favourite places contributing to its success.

In 2005 he was awarded an honorary master’s degree from the University of Brighton, “for his distinguished photojournalism and the wealth of images of Brighton inspired by the city”. He was chuffed to receive this honour, given that he had left school without a single O-level.

Despite living in Brighton, Roger was always seen in a Leicester Cricket Club sweater under a sports jacket, even though he hated cricket – Leicester City FC were his first love.

Roger continued to win awards until his retirement from mainstream newspaper photography in 2009. He carried on photographing anything and everything that caught his eye, and encouraged young photographers with endless patience. In the days before he died Roger was thrilled to see (and was correcting to the last) the proofs of his forthcoming book, Out of the Ordinary – he certainly was.

He married his long-term partner, Shân Lancaster, a journalist, in 2004. The couple had met while covering the Falklands war for the Sun and were together for 40 years.

Shân survives him, as does his sister Valerie.

🔔 Roger Bamber, photographer, born 31 August 1944; died 11 September 2022

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[a-not-so-sure-artist]

More Twinsomnia headcannons because I am bored and lazy (pt 2)

Sorry I’ve been gone for a few days, but to make it up here’s more fnf Twinsomnia headcannons because I’m procrastinating from doing my homework :’)

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If Boyfriend’s parents were to be shown in the mod, they’d follow the gag that we’re only be able to see their legs up to their mid-torso, pretty much anything BUT their faces like the teacher from Charlie Brown or Ms. Bellum from the Power Puff Girls.

Even tho it’s clear they can teleport wherever they want to, Boy and Girl like to shrink themselves down in order to fit in a kid’s pockets whenever they or their family are going out ‘cause it’s more fun! Also, the turn smaller to play in dollhouses and do little puppet shows and whatnot.

You know what would be super hilarious? The twins being able to understand baby gibberish. And they think it’s hilarious when they hear this adorable little infant discuss their plans of taking over the planet and wreaking havoc upon humanity to the parents who are like “awww, yes that’s very interesting to hear honey.” They do get concerned with the takeover part though..

Boy and Girl’s job of babysitting is complete once the child grows up, of course. The way this happens is when time is close for Boy n’ Girl to leave, it’ll manifest simply as a feeling from within and they’ll just KNOW exactly when that day is. Once a child/children fall asleep on that final day, their memories of them will begin to fade away, either being replaced with a different version of a memory or simply disappearing by the time they wake up the next day.

That being said, it isn’t news when they ask the King and Queen to extend their “work days” if you will. I imagine the day they’re supposed to leave is always random depending on how quickly the kid fully matures, so they’ll usually only ask if said day is inconveniently before their birthday or something like that.

Girl loves pulling small pranks on her bro every so often to get back on pranks he pulled on her. A good example of this is that one time she told Boyfriend to tell him that the Boogieman had gotten in the house again. When he checked around the place and assured Bf no-one was there, Boyfriend just gave him this empty stare and slowly whispered “behind you”, and Boy turned around only to get jump-scared by Girl.

If Kid were canon to the Twinsomnia lore, they’d either be Boy n’ Girl’s babysitter-in-training who’d rather be playing Mario Kart or CS:GO than look after any kind of human toddler, or the chaos younger sibling who’s only there to be a menace and the twins can’t do anything about it ‘cause A) That mf is scary as shit, and B) The king and Queen told ‘em to.

The twins don’t mind if a kid they’re babysitting suddenly gets a new babysitter who happens to be fairly young (like in their late teens or around that age). They’ll make themselves visible to them to help them out, teach them a thing or two on looking after children and have fun while doing it!

Do NOT tell Boy and Girl to “get real” or “be realistic,” they WILL take it literally and it’s not pretty. Like c’mon, have you seen that one image of them in the mod’s gallery??

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Uhh I dunno how to close out this post. Enjoy…these words? I guess?

[deasbanker]

Weekend treat: visit an art exhibition featuring Kenzo Takada and subsequently, take part in a night cruise on Tokyo Bay on Tokyo's election day/Tanabataday, or the star festival!

7/7/2024

As a night cruise on Tokyo Bay was to start at 7:15pm, we didn't necessarily leave home until after noon. This slow-paced excursion let us feel so free, and I liked that.

Firstly, we headed over to an art exhibition taking place at Tokyo Opera City Art Gallery, which is now featuring the late Kenzo Takada, a fashion designer based in Paris and the founder of "KENZO", and shows part of his work from clothing to self-portraits. I was learning the history of fashion, something on haute couture/prêt-à-porter（including renowned designers）, and issues with fashion like cultural appropriation a bit in college, developing a deep understanding of the exhibits there. He's been also called "poet of cotton"; it was named after his unorthodox work in high-end fashion industry in those days, such as preferring cotton to silk, or valuing prêt-à-porter. As well as that, he loved to combine elements of traditional garments from various regions and brought ethnicity in the Eurocentric fashion industry（he turned a disadvantage as an Oriental into a kind of selling point. That's why he named his first brand "Jungle Jap", which I find a bit problematic nowadays, though）. I was pleased to see the pieces of clothing designed by him so closely in person that you can see details from many angles unlike two-dimensional images. For instance, I could happen to learn that a simple gray coat had tartan ribbon on the back. Plus, I appreciate that I could feel texture or weight of fabric without any distractions there.

Next, on our way to the ferry terminal, we stopped by one of Japanese key tv studios Nippon Television（aka: 日テレ）/channel 4. It had been about 10 years since I last went to this studio, of course, for sightseeing; it seemed to change a lot and not as prosperous as once. My mom has been absorbed in "Detective Conan", whose anime has been airing on channel 4, recently, so I took her to a store in this facility. Afterwards, we headed to the giant Ghibli clock designed by Hayao Miyazaki on the side of the building. It never gets old!

Owing to the date of the star festival, the cruise ship was packed with so many couples in yukata. Therefore, we mom and daughter appeared to be a bit out of place and were yet to be used to its party atmosphere. However, once the ship left port, we were so into the scenery from the water that forgot about trifles. As it was my first time night cruising, I might have expected it too much, as far as I'm concerned. To be honest, I didn't feel satisfied with the view, because it was too dark and far to capture such highlights as Tokyo Tower and Tokyo Skytree. Yet, I found a sea/night breeze pleasant at that time and rejoiced that mom was really enjoying watching airplanes flying just above us, at least.

[papercherries]

Interpretation and AI

In an essay by Susan Sontag (you'll have to forgive me for not remembering which one (it's either Against Interpretation, On Photography or Regarding The Pain of Others. Though I'm also not 100% sure on that)), she explains an argument the art world has been having for over a century. Is photography/film truly art? Many people have and do believe that because of the nature of the photographic image, it cannot be art because it is objective. It is factual. It's not like a witness statement which can be removed from the truth or a reporter piece which has a sense of hyperbole. It is a cold, hard objective perspective. Sontag then disagrees with this, she view photography and film as an interpretation of something. Her point being, that two people can take a picture of the same thing and have different results.

This crude summary doesn't do the piece justice but it helps me make a point. I agree with Sontag, photography and film are interpretation art, especially when it comes to photography. Film can be moulded and is mailable due to it's theatrical nature (if we ignore experimental film). Therefore it could be described as a theatre art or a narrative art. Where as photography doesn't fill the same boxes, photographs can be staged but in this essence they represent a painting or a drawing. If I were to put it in a rough summary, I'd say films are a continuation of theatre and opera (though I do believe that film is also a continuation of photography/fine art due to the more experimental side of film) and photography is a continuation of the gallery. Fine art and such. Hence why these two mediums usually find themselves in those environments.

Some people, who may have had their head held too close to the wall as a babe, would then say that AI is the next step toward artistic expression. Why, it's not so different from photography! In photography you are just taking something from the real world and capturing it. AI is very similar in that sense. To these people I would express my sincerest apologies, for they have missed the point of photography by such a mile, their arrow has curved the earth and penetrated their own skull. A husk of a person remains, saliva dribbling out of their mouth as they consume their next ration of black steak.

AI cannot produce art, or at least in a way that we express it. The first reason is it's non-communicative. It is not a communication created by a human, it is an amalgamation of centuries of human thought and expression, condensed into a single image. It communicates something in the barest sense of the word, in the same sense that light is reflected from our eyes to make an image. It's only form of communication is the fact it exists. Besides that it is devoid of meaning and soul. It literally can't mean anything because it doesn't consider this.

Secondly, most, if not all the art used in the creation of these poisonous engines, is stolen. For centuries artists have been abused and ripped off, at the moment it is at it's peak. Starving artists fuel the engine because they must, they must upload their art to the internet because it's their revenue. Some of them draw pornographic images that couldn't have existed 10 years ago and some of them make graceful crochet bags and socks. The internet has been the most liberating invention for the modern day artist, but it has also been it's crown of thorns.

Finally, AI art can't be an interpretation. This is to say it is always as literal as it can be. If you were to give an AI a prompt, it would try to create the closest thing possible. If you tell a person to take a photo of a dog, the results will be different every time because of the interpretive nature of humans. The millions of factors that play into what goes into a picture of a dog being taken. Is the dog outside? Is it sunny? What's the dog doing? What type of dog is it? But most importantly, who is taking the photo? where do they like to point their lens? Do they like to leave dead space? Where do they want the dog in the image? What is the most aesthetically pleasing placement of the dogs nose? Do I even want to take a picture of this ugly dog? (all dogs are adorable). The point being, an AI can't think like this, it will just churn out the most literal version of what you typed. It has no room for exploration and no room for experimentation. If neither of those existed in art, we would still be stuck with boring portraits and INTERPRETATIONS of biblical events. (Not to say there wasn't experimentation within these genres of art).

Using AI as a tool can be an incredible thing, lessening the amount of labour we have to do is the dream of the future. But it is being pointed in the wrong direction. Without the proper infrastructure, humanity would fall apart if AI were to take over the work force because there would be no support for people who required those jobs. Which we shouldn't have to require, at least not for basic necessities like food, water and shelter. Why that's a radical thing to say is beyond me.

The only way, I'd ever accept AI art is if AI becomes sentient. But then we would have to consider what that means for the human race. We would be creating something smarter than ourselves. Releasing it onto the world, it would be like a teenager experiencing the true world for the first time. AI doesn't have time to build character. We don't live in a kind enough world to allow a powerful sentient species to grow. Let alone, an powerful sentient AI.

[lacefuneral]

okay so. i've been away from twitter forever but. i want to talk about my OFMD SMAU concept that never exited the drafting/planning stage.

because i am a person that really struggles to complete things, i didn't want to start a story and then not finish. i wanted the entire SMAU written, images edited, posts planned out, etc. in advance. and then just... take my time letting updates come out, knowing that the entire story was already done.

but like. i never got around to even starting it so. no one knows about it. except for my close friends. and i will likely never finish it. so!

I started writing this SMAU in 2022, when they were at their peak. things like piña coladas, etc.

and around this time, i had also just recently come out as gay, i was fresh out of a breakup, and i felt really alienated and alone. i wanted to try and reach out to members of my community and make friends locally, so i started going to events and potlucks. started going to the library and checking out books about queer history. and i also discovered an app called Lex.

now..... when i was drafting this document, Lex was a VERY different app. it is unrecognizable now, compared to the one i first encountered.

and i thought to myself "this app is terrible. it would be an incredible setting for a story where two people fall in love. there is so much room for error."

i also just imagined like, a 50 year old man trying to use an app primarily frequented by millennials and gen z and that cracked me up

so here was the premise.

the story begins with texts between a husband and wife. neither of them are named. the reader assumes that this is stede and mary, and they're right! but they're also wrong. because, you see, stede is the wife. and mary is the husband. and they are two queer transgender people who do not know this yet.

their marriage is falling apart. mary is never home, stede feels overwhelmed with the kids. mary realizes that she's trans and secretly orders a dress, which she hides from stede. she is fired from the corporate design firm she works at (not explained in-universe, but it was due to transmisogyny). she breaks down, fails to find work for a while, and eventually comes out to stede as a trans woman.

for a while, mary and stede's lives seem much better. mary is in therapy, on HRT. she has a new job with the Widow Collective, which is a highly-respected group of woman artists that showcase in galleries and such. her new hours means that she spends more time at home with the kids. she's going on date nights with stede.

but stede feels... off. like something about their marriage is still wrong. he thinks the problem is depression. he seeks therapy, only to realize that he is also transgender.

their lives actually get even worse after this. stede still doesn't understand what's wrong with him. mary worries that stede doesn't see her as the same person, or maybe doesn't recognize her as a woman. she's also afraid of stede's.... well.... stedeness. he's very flamboyant and loud and puts all sorts of crazy decorations in their yard. and she is so scared that he'll direct too much attention to their family, and that because they're both trans, people will want to take their children away. she tells stede to stop being so childish (which she later apologizes for)

finally, stede forgets to delete his search history and mary discovers that stede's been looking at gay porn. like. a LOT of gay porn. she's relieved, and realizes the problem is that stede is only attracted to men. this comes as a legitimate surprise to stede when mary tells him this, even though he was literally the one looking at gay porn

mary and stede amicably divorce and stede moves into an apartment by himself. mary retains custody over the kids (although they are friends, and stede visits with his children when possible) as mary is the more responsible parent, has a better paying job, and is home far more often. she also starts dating doug. bisexual queen.

stede takes this opportunity to learn about himself and to make friends in the gay community, despite spending the first 50 years of his life living as a straight cisgender woman, and is deeply out of his element.

he meets lucius, who is working at the library and guides stede to the LGBT section. stede tells him that he's "making up for lost time" and the two exchange numbers.

stede decides to try and make more friends, and googles around various search terms until he discovers Grindr. believing it to be a social media app, he downloads it, only to be bombarded with unsolicited dick pics. he finds lucius' profile by mistake, and reaches out to him for help.

lucius tells him that he's on the wrong app, and that because he's old he should try facebook. stede refuses, and asks about twitter. lucius warns him away from twitter. eventually, lucius admits that he's heard of an app called Lex. while he hasn't used it, he knows friends of his have to learn about local events like clothing swaps

now. here is when the specific timeframe matters. because lex is different now.

you used to not be able to comment on people's posts. you could only DM or make your own public post. (this was funny because when people made discourse it covered the entire page). and lex had (has?) a limit of like. 5 posts per month. and each post has a character limit.

so i thought it would be very funny if stede burned all of his in one go by mistake, one message broken up into five parts, and the people on the app made fun of him for this.

also, ed sees his posts, but because you can't comment at this time, he just leaves Roses. which, on the app, have a romantic implication. it's like, flirty.

anyway. stede has one rose from Ed, who has no profile pic, so he just shrugs and ignores that. but his DMs are filled with spam and the timeline is mocking him, so he's dejected.

but then, jim (my friend zach pointed out that, actually, this role makes more sense to be Oluwande, and i agree. so. Oluwande, actually.) reaches out to stede via DM and informs him that there is a combination potluck knife-throwing event that he and jim are holding, and that he's welcome to go

at the potluck, stede meets Ed (who is also a trans man), but is quickly glared-away by a scowling izzy hands. stede tells lucius about this (describing ed in great detail) and lucius informs him that he Simply Must make a Missed Connections post about the hot leather daddy he saw. he drafts one for stede, which stede deems too sexual.

he writes his own, which is very dorky and earnest. platonic.

his post receives a rose from Ed again. this time, stede looks at ed's post history. he notices that Ed has made his own Missed Connections post, which is romantic and flirty in tone.

after showing it to lucius, lucius tells stede that the post is about him, so stede rushes to look at the profile itself again.

ed still has no profile picture, and barely any information. but his "Looking For" section lists two things: events and hookups, and stede's heart sinks.

at this point in time, stede is just trying to make friends. he isn't ready for romance, let alone sex, and he's worried that ed doesn't want a friend (stede's own profile reads "Looking for: Friends, Events"), so he doesn't message him.

a few days later, stede is riding his bike in the park and crashes. ed stands over his mangled form and helps him up, and stede thinks that he's died and is seeing an angel. ed takes him to urgent care to get checked out for serious injuries (stede, it turns out, just has bruises and scrapes.) and this event allows them to talk and become friends

later, stede expresses his relief that ed wanted to be his friend, explaining that he isn't ready for a relationship at this time. (ed, meanwhile is like. completely and utterly enamored by him, but is respecting his boundaries.) and talks about his marriage and how he never really felt right with mary (probably because stede was never a woman), but that they were married for 14 years. that they'd met on a cruise ship and neither of them had found love yet, and had they decided to settle for one another. he wonders if he felt pressured to do the "get married and have kids" thing because of societal misogyny, but he cares about mary and adores his children, so he doesn't regret his choices.

now. this is where my document stops. but ed and stede grow closer, and they eventually start dating and stede has good sex for the first time in his life and they move in together and start a business together and everyone lives happily forevar aftar. yey!

oh i forgot to mention this but like. izzy is one of those unpleasant trans guys with a ton of internalized transphobia, and jack is a chaser.

ed has his own trauma/issues because of these men. and stede helps him to find the courage to tell them to fuck off. and once izzy is gone ed feels more comfortable experimenting with his gender presentation. ed's also been out since the 90s and has lived through a lot of homophobia and has been in the leather scene for a long time. and actually won several leather competitions. this is all stuff i never got around to writing down because. [gestures to this post] i was writing a lot of stuff already.

also mary is a recovering alcoholic. and she and stede met at the bar on a cruise ship because it was Singles Night. and mary was there to drink, but stede was there to find love. and stede just assumes that mary is there for the same reason as him, and she doesn't correct him. and their marriage leads to her sobriety, which is great. but she experiences a relapse after her firing, and then goes back into recovery.

stede, because of his ex wife's struggle with alcoholism, avoids alcohol himself (which he started when they got married, and simply never picked up a drink again after that). but he's totally fine going to bars. so ed and stede will be in like, this dingy biker bar and ed's knocking back shots and stede is like. politely sipping on his little glass of plain orange juice. which i think is silly visual

anyway. that's the general concept. the SMAU never even had a name, even. i had no idea what to call it. but i still think about this AU fondly. smiles