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#Anon
nessieartss · 2 days
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the way you draw sukuna... makes me fall for him harder... that's not supposed to happen 😭 i'm supposed to be his biggest and most devoted hater... why is your art so good 😭😭😭
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then I’m afraid ur not ready for this one anon. This might be the best sukuna that I’ve drawn
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rafeysdoll · 21 hours
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omg ur rafe x reader arguing drabble had me thinking what would happen if reader (keyword) TRIED to break up with him or take a break?
hehe thank you for requesting sorry this took sooo long, thanks to the lovely @hewwokitti3 for helping me with this request and @oceandriveab and @rafecameroninterlude for proof reading <3
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you shut rafe’s truck door, quickly running back inside tannyhill and climbing up the stairs, heart beating so fast you thought it could explode.
you burst in rafe’s and yours shared bedroom, him sitting on the edge bed with his phone, looking up at your shaking figure. “you good?”
your manicured nails that have the initial ‘R’ on them claw harshly at rafe’s chest, tears now streaming down your cheek. “fuck you!” you yell, fist slamming at his chest. “we’re over!” you cry, turning to the closet and grabbing whatever bag and starting to shove whatever belongings you own.
“hey, the hell is the matter with you?!” rafe spits, snatching your bag from your hands and throwing it across the room, eyebrows furrowed as he grabs at your shoulders tightly, scanning you. “i know you’re cheating on me! i-im not stupid!” you scream, bottom lip wobbling as you thrash against his hold.
“cheat.. cheating on you? where the fuck did you get that idea from? huh?” rafe replies, tightening his grip. “i saw with my own eyes, rafe!”
“well.. well you’re fucking blind then.” he retaliates, slightly pushing you to the closest wall— taking a big breath as he tries to calm down. “n-need you.. to tell me what the hell you think you saw so i can correct it, a’ight? breathe with me?”
you sniffle, looking down at the ground as your chest heaves— snot running down your nose. “you need to calm down. breathe.”
you close your eyes tightly, taking a deep inhale as you try to slowly regain a steady breathing rhythm, rafe taking a small step back, hand on hip.
when you feel ready enough to speak, you peek back at him, shoulders shaking. “i-i.. went to get my eyelash curler from your truck and.. and the passenger seat was down! all the way down! my seat rafe, mine!” you confess, voice cracking slightly.
he rolls his eyes, hand moving up to rub at his temple, tonguing his cheek. “that’s why you… you threw a fucking tantrum? that was wheezie messing around with my shit.. had to drive her to the store cause she wanted fucking snacks yesterday, not because i’m screwing some chick behind your back.”
your cheeks heat up, embarrassment creeping up your spine. “oh.”
“yeah, oh.. you feel ashamed of yourself now? driving yourself crazy like that, fighting me and shit. why.. why don’t you c’mere, gonna teach you to control yourself.” he prompts, sitting back on the bed, patting his lap.
you whimper, knowing your fate was decided for you now— slowly walking up towards your boyfriend. “some time today,” he urges, grabbing your arm when it’s in reach and laying you flat on his lap, ass up.
“want you to remember this when you think of freaking out on me before talking to me like an adult again, alright?”
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paper-mario-wiki · 3 days
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Why you look so angry
my grandma described that look as "it's like you're smiling and not at the same time, like mona lisa" when i came out to her, and that kinda cemented it as my go-to look for selfies.
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arttuff · 2 days
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holy squishable cheeks anon!!
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donatellawritings · 3 days
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thoughts on best friends dad!rafe!
introducing bfd!rafe & dolly!reader
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there was pathetically sick part of rafe that got off on knowing that he still had it — especially with such a young girl like you who was an absolute knockout, absolutely eager and willing to bend to his every whim. he had watched you bloom into the young woman you were today, but the moment you turned eighteen, you became a bit more forward with your intentions. from wearing skimpy bikinis whenever you joined his sweet son on family trips, to the thin satin dresses that tented with your hard nipples on thursday dinners — you made sure to always look your best for mr. cameron.
but what made rafe melt was the way you were so immersed in him, you completely dismissed how his son was head over heels in love with you — and you can call rafe a sick man, but he always craved being the center of attention, no matter the costs. his little boy would just have to move on, not that he ever stood a chance against his overpowering and domineering father.
so, when rafe’s son asked if you could spend the summer at tannyhill, rafe was eager to oblige, masking his reasoning with ‘wanting his next of kin to be happy at home’, despite his true intentions of having you surrender all of yourself to him, now running rampant is his tainted and somewhat deranged mind.
on the first night of your extended stay, you found yourself sat beside your best friend’s father, your tooth-achingly sweet and doting best friend seated directly across from you, completely oblivious to the way his father stared at you with that same sense of longing and desire.
you liked mr. cameron — he was always so sweet to you, he bought you the finest birthday presents, complimented your girly, but borderline inappropriate outfits, and he always seemed to know exactly what you needed at any given time.
and maybe, just maybe there was a part of you that knew he felt the same way about you too.
carelessly leaning over the dining table, you fought back a knowing smirk as your swollen tits bulged against the hem of your sleeveless romper, the ribbed fabric clinging to your warm frame as you reached for a piece of bread, “thank you for having me, mr. cameron,” you sang, your sweet voice all light and airy as you glanced at the older man, your heart jumping as you caught his eyes stuck on the fat of your plush ass cheeks that managed to swallow the romper.
masking his faux pas with a forced clearing of his throat, mr. cameron licks over his lips with a smile, “well — ahem, f’course, my wife and i really appreciate how good of a friend you’ve been to our boy, isn’t that right, honey?”
rafe knew exactly what he was doing, his trained blue eyes carefully taking in the way your plump smile faltered into a brief frown and how the sparkle in your eyes dimmed. your bubble of security had been popped in that very moment as you tugged on the top hem of your romper, your nailed fingers lightly grazing over the baby pink bow that had been sewn between the valley of your breasts.
your oh so pretty and fake smile only intensified as mrs. cameron sauntered into the dining room. you absolutely hated how your shared likeness towards mr. cameron had soured your perception of the clueless woman who still viewed you to be the daughter she always wanted.
placing a manicured hand atop of mr. cameron’s shoulder, you watch as the woman leans down to capture rafe’s lips in a quick kiss, “mhm. you know that we love having you over, sweetie. you keep us on our toes, dolly” she laughs, gently nudging the apple of your cheek as she makes her way to her seat, directly across from mr. cameron.
dolly — the dear nickname that you’d been given by mr. cameron, you’d always been so wet behind the ears, dainty, and entirely too vulnerable. but, it didn’t feel right coming from her.
answering with a short nod, you are a bit too eager to change the topic of discussion, a silent huff of stress leaving your faded plum stained lips as your best friend furrows his brows at your standoffish behavior, “y’okay?” he mouths, softly nudging your shin with the tip of his converse.
“i’m okay,” you mouth back, a soft smile on your pillowy lips as you steal a quick glance at mr. cameron who catches your sneaky gaze, sending you a quick wink as he takes a sip from his glass of chilled red wine.
licking over your dry lips, you swallow thickly, popping a warm and fluffy piece of bread into your needy mouth as mr. cameron’s long and slender leg brushes against yours. fighting back a smile, you remain silent as mrs. cameron enlightens the table about her new endeavors at cameron development, your eyes glazed over as you quietly hook your leg over his firm thigh.
honing your focus into chewing the piece of bread in your mouth, you watch from the corner of your bambi eyes as rafe inconspicuously slides a large hand over the smooth skin of your waxed leg.
now lost in the sensation of mr. cameron’s hand gently kneading soothing circles around your ankle, your eyes widen as rafe’s voice cuts into your dazed state, “y’seem pretty sleepy over there, dolly — everything a’ight?” he questions knowingly, his buzzed head tilted to the side as his pink lips part in anticipation of your next words.
feverishly nodding, you send rafe a forced courteous smile, “yes, mr. cameron — just sleepy,” you answer politely.
returning his attention to his son and wife, rafe keeps a tight hold on your small ankle, the cold bite of his wedding band digging into your warmed and bronze skin. you always loved to prance around tannyhill barefoot, you’re pretty pink toes on full display, ever since your younger days.
and rafe was painfully reminded of that, a feigned smile of interest on his handsomely structured face as he gave your cute little toes a gentle squeeze, every now and again.
all while his poor son and unsuspecting wife sat and ate their overly priced steak dinner.
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princessbrunette · 1 day
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i need puppy!reader with rafe sooo badd. I just need to climb all over him and bite him and lick his face
ok so puppy!reader + rafe universe is that she was a pogue her whole life but one of her parents just got a fancy new job that’s changed their life as a family, and the company moved them into the house right beside tanny hill. she still acts like a pogue and does all the things she usually does, just in a big house! she’s forced to attend all these kooky events now on this side of the island and she doesn’t know how to act, always with food on her cheek or a tear in her dress and the other girls make fun of her so bad and she’s just :(
rafe, being her new neighbour is forced to show the new girl around and at first he turns his nose up because ugh… this family will always be a pogue family in his eyes, but obviously can’t help but fall for you bc you’re just so sweet and naive and excitable !! people can’t believe it when she starts showing up places with rafe, the messy little puppy girl hanging off the king of kildares arm as he begrudgingly wipes her face and yanks her in the correct direction she’s meant to be walking so she doesn’t wander off. “focus, kid. m’not a fuckin’ babysitter.”
he stands up for her when people are being mean at kook events at the country club and gets real mad too. she starts to invite him over to her house like every day because he’s her “only friend” and at first it feels like a drag and he’s like what have i got myself into 🙄, standing in her room with his hands in his pockets as she rambles away at him, but soon he realises how he can use this to his advantage, esp as your parents are so thankful for him and trusting of his presence…… starts to find his way into your bed getting humped on by his sweet new ‘bestie’, letting her kiss him all sloppy if it means she’ll do the same to his dick.
tries to teach her how to behave to fit in better but she can’t change who she is and in the end he just gives up and accepts her😭 once he’s comfortable in the relationship he’s not afraid to put her in her place and can get really mean, gripping the back of her neck saying shit like “dont forget i fuckin’ own you alright? you — you need me. without me you’re just a dirty little pogue puppy from the litter. y’understand?” whilst he’s digging her out in backshots . sighh
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ponett · 3 days
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Do you have any favorite superheroes?
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usereddie · 3 days
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hi so I just looked up what proship means. and I just wanted to ask if you like/support incest or pedophilia ships?
i support uncensored media. does that mean i like all of it? no. do i believe it’s important it exists and continues to exist? yes.
you don't have to like/support "problematic" content to believe it shouldn't be censored. censorship affects all of us, but especially lgbt and poc creatives. it starts with the things that everyone agrees is bad — no one, not even the people who read underage, thinks harming kids is okay in any capacity.
but it never stops there. it doesn't stop at underage or incest or rape. once a corporation realizes it has your stamp of approval to censor shit, they'll keep going until it's a white cishet conservative's dream. nothing queer, nothing where poc struggles are a focal point and it's talking negatively about white people and white supremacy. no sex. no sex no matter how vanilla. that's a problem. everyone, especially people who fall into marginalized identities, should be really, really against that.
this purity culture that's started to run rampant in fandom, this need to sanitize everything, to make sure everything exists very neatly within the box of Morally Right is harmful. fiction is not inherently good or bad because it's not real.
reading about siblings having sex doesn't actually hurt anyone, neither does writing it.
this shame surrounding taboo sexual topics, though?
that hurts people. that hurts kids. purity culture is spreading in fandom but it didn't start here. people are so worried about being "morally good" about media that has no moral responsibility in the first place that they completely ignore the real life repercussions of telling children that talking about sex is wrong, that if you've ever had thoughts that don't align with the purity mindset that you're gross, that if something ever happens to you you shouldn't talk about it, that if something happens to you and, in your trauma, it becomes something you're into in a consensual, pro-kink context that you're dirty.
the vast majority of people i know and have seen both online and in person with rape or ageplay kinks are victims of sexual abuse.
fiction is a comfort and it's allowed to be no matter how weird someone else thinks it is.
no one's telling you you need to go on ao3 dot com right now and filter everything with "underage". no one's telling you to make nsfw fanart of siblings if you don't want to. the point of being pro-ship is that you're in favor of people doing what they want with fiction. i know it's got "pro" in the name, but the point of being pro-ship is to be anti censorship.
(and, yeah, i ship the brothers from supernatural.)
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moonchildstyles · 2 days
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would Élan!Harry ever get jealous with (Y/N)? Seeing as to how they don't make their relationship public (yet!), people would still definitely hit on her, so how would he deal with that?
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—————
"One more?" 
Harry's lips grew into a lopsided smile at (Y/N)'s request. It would never lose its shine, would it? 
"One more, but I don't want to be the one in trouble for your lipstick this time," he conditioned with a raised brow. 
"Okay, fine," (Y/N) answered right away, waving his terms off with a fluttering hand, "Just one more before we have to go inside." 
Pressing his lips to her own perfectly painted pair, Harry was determined to keep it light and fleeting, knowing that there were cameras lurking just up ahead. It wouldn't be a good look for either of them to emerge from the back of this SUV with (Y/N)'s lipstick smeared and the remnants on Harry's own mouth. 
Of course, his determination hinged on just how well behaved (Y/N) was going to be. Which, as he'd learned through the course of their tabloid facade, wasn't something that happened often. It was her that deepened the kiss with a tip of her head, fitting his bottom lip between her two. 
How was he supposed to say no to that?
She knew he'd given in as soon as he felt the faint curl of her lips against his, a smug victory smile. 
Though, her victory didn't last much longer than that. 
The ever patient—and discreet—man he was, Sully knocked on the partition as a warning that they were quickly approaching the venue of the night's party. It was Harry who had to have the power to pull away first, leaving (Y/N) with a puffed pout and only slightly smudged lipstick. He didn't even want to think about how much of the red was now painted over his own mouth. 
"Don’t give me that look," he told her, swiping a thumb over a smudge just under her bottom lip. 
His command only garnered him a set of narrowed eyes to go along with her pout. "I don't even want to be here tonight, why can't we go home?" 
"Because," he said, canting his head as she did the same, "Y'told Francesca you'd be here tonight, and I know y'wouldn't leave her by herself." 
"She'll make friends," she huffed, though Harry knew he'd won her over as soon as she turned away in search of the compact in her purse. 
"It's gonna be alright, darling," he told her, slinging an arm around her shoulders as she clicked open her mirrors and touched up her lipstick, "We'll go home early if y'really want." 
"I do really want," she petulantly mumbled, cleaning up the slight smudging outside of the line of her mouth. "H, you messed up my lipstick." 
That was enough to have him throwing his head back with a laugh.
By the time Sully had pulled up to the entrance of the high-rise the party was taking place at, (Y/N) had primed her appearance and put on her socialite facade. Harry had sat at her side, being her anchor as she centered herself and let the side of her personality that loved cameras and attention take over. 
"Ready?" he'd murmured once they pulled up to the entrance of the building.
She chirped out and Mh-hm a small smile on her lips. "Ready to be my bodyguard?"
"If y'can behave," he countered, sliding his arm off of her shoulders once he saw the first flashes of the camera aimed at the SUV. 
"We'll see," she smiled just before sliding down the leather seats and pushing the door open. 
Harry had no choice but to follow after her, shaking his head just before stepping out into the flashing lights with her. Schooling his features, he slipped on his own facade. Despite what the tabloids wrote and the blurry photos supposedly circulating online, when they stepped in public, Harry was her bodyguard. Especially when it comes to parties like this.
He'd be her lover later, he had to make sure she was safe first. 
The entrance wasn't packed with photographers, but there were still enough people for Harry to hover just behind her. He'd learned his lesson well while in Paris that summer—it didn't matter just how few paparazzi were following her, it only took one to push the limits. 
She kept her head down when the few waiting outside the event started talking to her, speaking over one another with calls of her name. None of them acted particularly invasive, speaking rudely to her or invading her space, especially seeing as there wasn't anything particularly scandalous circulating about her at the moment. Nonetheless, while (Y/N) politely smiled and kept her space, Harry was the intimidating presence behind her that reminded others just how important it was for them to keep their distance. 
Following as her quiet shadow, Harry kept his hands to himself as they were escorted to the penthouse floor for the party. If not for the attendant in the lift, he may have attempted to get one more touch of her skin against his, though he instead settled for a sidelong glance that had her lips tipping into a small smile. 
When the doors opened directly to the penthouse space, Harry tipped his head, gesturing for (Y/N) to go first. She thanked the attendant with a quiet thank you before she stepped into the fluttering party.
It was a decidedly more low-key event compared to the many that (Y/N) frequented, most of the attendants having spilled out towards the open air patio. The rest of the space was full of modern, minimalist decor. Walls were made of glass panelling, everything coming in different shades of cream and nude, manicured greenery being placed throughout the space in an attempt to make it look more lived in than it most likely was. Staff traipsed through the space with trays of hors d'oeuvres and flutes of bubbly alcohol. 
"Do you see Fran anywhere?" (Y/N) murmured, her fingers joining into a fumbling bundle at her middle. 
Continuing his scan over the crowd, Harry stuffed his own hands into his pockets to keep from plucking (Y/N)'s up in an attempt to soothe her. "Not yet. Do y'know if she's here yet?" 
"I don't know, she hasn't texted me since before we left." At that, (Y/N) pulled out her phone, most likely pulling up Francesca's shared location. Her expression fell at whatever she saw on her screen. "She hasn't even left her apartment yet." 
"That's alright," he told her, keeping his voice low, "She'll be here soon. Do y'want a drink?" 
Just as she opened her mouth to give an answer, (Y/N) was interrupted by a voice Harry didn’t recognize. Though plenty of strangers approached her while they were out and about, especially at events such as this, it still put him on edge. Peering around the perfect style of (Y/N)'s hair, he found a man with dark hair and grown in facial hair approaching her. He was inches shorter than Harry, but with the way the group he'd drifted away from admired him, he could have been seven feet tall. 
"Hi," (Y/N) politely answered. Harry didn't have to see her expression to be able to picture the neutral set to her mouth and the practiced light in her eyes. 
"Sorry," the man said, voice accented with lilting vowels and an undulating melody. His eyes never  strayed from (Y/N). "I don't mean to interrupt, I was just hoping I'd run into you while I was in the city. I'm Luca." 
"Oh, no worries," she answered, just as perfectly pleasant as always, "Nice to meet you." 
Harry watched on as she reached out a manicured hand for him to shake, only for Luca to bring her hand to his lips and press a kiss to her knuckle. 
His hands in his pockets clenched. 
This was the downside to keeping their relationship on the down low—everyone loved to assume she was available for the taking. 
"Nice to meet you as well," Luca drawled, looking at (Y/N) through a fan of dark lashes. It was with a sudden glance in his direction that Luca seemed to realize she hadn't been standing off by herself. "Excuse me, I didn't mean to be rude. I'm Luca." 
With a clenched jaw, Harry offered his own greeting, reciprocating Luca's outstretched hand for no other reason than to ensure he wouldn't let it wander back towards (Y/N). 
"Nice to meet you," Harry said, voice a bit stifled as he assessed the man before him. 
"Are you—uh—a friend of (Y/N)'s?" Luca asked, taking a step back with his hand giving a slight flex before settling it into his pocket. The action had Harry's lips quirking into a small smile; it was entirely intentional just how tight his handshake was, but he would never admit that. 
"I'm her bodyguard." 
It was always with that statement that Harry had assessing eyes tracing over his form, taking stock of who he was as if his merits for his profession were painted on his clothing or tattooed on his arms. 
"I bet she keeps you busy then, this one," Luca attempted to tease as if he knew anything at all about he or (Y/N).
Before Harry could manage to snip out his own reply, (Y/N) took over. "Luca, have we met before? Sorry, if I've forgotten—I have the worst memory," she laughed, "You look familiar." 
That seemed to be just the question Luca had been waiting for, a dazzling smile settling on his features. "Ah, well," he started, suddenly—deceptively—bashful with his eyes dropping to his feet, "I am an F1 driver—for Ferrari, actually. You may have seen one of my races." 
Harry had to make a point to keep from rolling his eyes. 
"Oh wow," (Y/N) bubbled, perfect persona in place, "That's really cool! I have a friend who really enjoys that kind of thing, so maybe I've seen you on T.V." 
"Yeah?" he chirped, decidedly more willing to talk about his profession now that (Y/N) may be familiar with him, "I was just in Las Vegas for a race a couple of weeks ago. Have you ever been before?" 
Harry had to tune him out then, instead opting to look for Francesca through the new faces that had entered since being huddled in the corner with Luca The F1 Driver. Slipping into bodyguard mode, he only heard the polite mumblings of the conversation at his side, attempting to provide (Y/N) with as much privacy he could manage. 
"Right, H?" (Y/N) asked, suddenly pulling him back into the moment from where he'd zoned out pretending to look for Francesca. 
"Hm?" he hummed, blinking back into reality to find (Y/N) looking at him with Luca seemingly unimpressed with his inclusion. The thought had a lopsided smile touching at the corner of his lips. 
"We're going to be in Milan next month, right?" 
"Yes, from the ninth to the seventeenth. Why?" His question was aimed at Luca, forcing him to pay attention to him.
His smile looked especially pasted on this time when he matched Harry's attention. "I was just telling (Y/N) that I'll be racing again in Monza next month. Perhaps, you can catch the race while you're out there?" 
"Maybe," (Y/N) answered noncommittally, "I'd have to check in and see what we have planned, and Harry usually has to—" 
"No need to worry about that," Luca interjected, "I have a box you could spend the time in—I doubt you'll need any security up there." 
A tick appeared in Harry's jaw, hinging it tighter. To be fair, it wasn't the most blatant attempt to get him out of the way he'd ever heard before, but it was certainly an attempt. 
It was (Y/N) that had shrugged her shoulders, piping up first before Harry had a chance. "Oh, no," she waved Luca off with a polite smile, "Harry would be coming with me anyway."
At that, Harry could spot a small crack forming in Luca's facade. (Y/N) wasn't quite playing into whatever he had been hoping for when he meandered over to her. 
"You just let me know, then," Luca settled on, features schooled into perfection though he did stray a glance towards Harry. "Sorry, I'm being so rude—can I get you a drink, (Y/N)?" 
It took (Y/N) only a split second thought before she was jumping on the opportunity. "Yes, please, actually! Anything sweet works for me." 
When (Y/N) made a move to pull out her phone, her own quiet way of dismissing Luca to the bar, Harry had to keep his features from showing his amusement. She had casually turned to face Harry, giving her back to the bar Luca had disappeared to.
With her eyes still low, she murmured, "Is he far enough away?" 
"Mhm." 
Looking up at him with wide eyes, she whispered, "Oh my god, is he being annoying or am I just in a bad mood?" 
The exasperation in her tone was enough to have Harry letting out a chime of laughter. "No, he's definitely being annoying. Did y'really recognize him, or were y'jus' saying that?" 
"Kind of," she waved off, whatever app on her phone taking a backseat for the moment, "I half-watched a race one time with Toriana but that's it. I just wanted him to stop talking to you."
"Of course, Fran had to be late today, right?" Harry joked, sharing a small smile with her before noticing Luca on his way back with bubbling drinks in hand.
"Seriously," (Y/N) sighed before spinning on her heel to face Luca once more. "Thank you so much!" 
Now knowing how (Y/N) truly felt about her companion, Harry had to make a point to keep his amusement from touching his face when listening to the way she forced herself to pep up for him. It was interesting to him now, just how different it had been in the beginning, how difficult it had been for him to spot those differences in her personas—the split between who she truly was and who she hid behind. Now, all he needed to hear was the inflection of her voice, the arch of her spine, the gesticulating of her hands, and he could tell just where her comfort was sitting.
Luca's voice became a mumbling of monotone syllables to him, nothing to pay attention to as Harry observed the party and the patrons. He kept an ear out for (Y/N), ensuring she wasn't in need of him, though he had to make a point to keep from laughing at the sound of her faux-giggles between sips of sugary alcohol.  
Though he wasn't a fan of hearing others hit on his girlfriend, it was rather funny to hear just how clueless they were to her disinterest when it was so clear to his own ears. 
Of course, until Luca put his hands on her. 
It was slow, the way he'd grown closer to her after noticing Harry had averted his attention some. He took small steps, shifting his weight and leaning in as if he couldn't hear her over the low music playing. Once he deemed himself close enough, Harry saw, out of the corner of his eye, his hand landing on the small of her back, sliding around to settle on the curve of her waist as if he wasn't clearly flinching away. 
A too loud laugh filtered from her mouth then, enough to have Harry's attention sharpening and pinning on the interaction. 
As casually as possible, (Y/N) attempted to step out of Luca's grip. Though it didn't appear that he caught the hint with the way he shifted towards her once more, closing the gap she'd opened. 
There was a moment, with the sight of his hand on her waist, fingertips dipping into the folds of her dress as they curled to the line of her body, that Harry wondered just how many grainy videos and opinionated essays would be posted if he stepped in and pushed Luca away. 
 He'd bet it would be more than either he or (Y/N) would care to see. 
It was when (Y/N) looked at him over her shoulder, a fleeting glance, one that could have easily been mistaken for a flip of her hair, that Harry stepped in. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, greedily pulling her away from Luca's grip. 
"Francesca's here," he murmured, voice just loud enough for Luca to clue into the fact that his time with (Y/N) was over.
Spinning to face him, (Y/N) looked to him with relief in her eyes. "Really?" she bubbled, glancing back at Luca for a moment though she was already heading into Harry's arms, "It was nice talking to you, Luca!" 
Harry almost wanted to gloat when he saw how Luca stuttered over himself, absently reaching out as (Y/N) slipped through his fingers. 
"Oh—Um—Let me know about Monza, yeah? I'd love to see you again before I leave the city, maybe tom—" 
"I'm really busy this week, but maybe! I'll see about Monza and have Harry reach out!" 
It was with that final remark, that (Y/N) began leading the charge away from Luca and the corner he'd huddled her into. Harry followed after her, shifting his arm until he had his palm on her bicep.
"Thank god," (Y/N) sighed once they were far enough away, "Did you hear him?" 
"I tried not to," Harry murmured, guiding her through the throngs of people, slowing when unfamiliar faces said greetings in passing, "What did he say?" 
(Y/N) shook her head. "I know more about his racing stats than I think I know about myself." 
Typical, Harry figured. Of course, once the veil was lifted, would Luca leave the shy act behind to boast about his job in hopes of impressing (Y/N).
"'M not surprised," he said, just before (Y/N) changed their course.
Instead of following the line of the bar and those gathered in the living area, she turned them towards a hallway branching off the main room. It was decidedly quieter than where the party was. 
"Do you think there's a bathroom down here?" (Y/N) muttered, scanning her eyes down the few doors lining the hall, "I want to hide for a second."
It was (Y/N)'s request—that she wanted to hide away after speaking to Luca—that had him trying his hand at his own exploration. Even if he didn't hide a restroom, he would find somewhere quiet for his girl to decompress. 
On a whim, he reached towards the handle of a passing door. Pushing it open, a pristine bathroom sat inside. Convenient. 
Gently pulling her over the threshold first, Harry made a point to take a look around, intending to catch if anyone had wandering eyes that had landed on them. Though he couldn't be sure no one had caught them stealing away together, at least no one was watching as they went into the bathroom together. 
Setting her drink on the counter, (Y/N) sat on the edge of an elaborate tub with a heaving sigh. Her shoulders settled down, sloping downwards as she looked up at the ceiling for a second. 
"I don't know if I've been that annoyed since Paris," she muttered, rolling her neck. 
A small smile settled on Harry's lips then. Leaning against the marbled countertop, he crossed his arms over his chest as he gazed at her. "Maybe we should've stayed home, hm?" 
"I told you so," she countered, looking to him with amusement in her eyes. "How much do you wanna bet that Fran hasn't even left the house yet?" 
He watched as she pulled out her phone from her purse, checking through whatever tabs she had open before he unfurled from where he was leaning against the counter. Crossing the pristine tiles under his feet, he crouched in front of where (Y/N) was huddled on the edge of the tub. 
Placing a hand carefully on the bone of her ankle, he whispered to her despite already being alone in the space. "Y'alright?" 
"Yeah," she sighed, slowing her tapping on her phone before she dropped her phone to rest on her lap, "He was just annoying—he wasn't, like... scaring me or anything." 
"Good, good," he murmured, stroking his thumb over the curve of her leg. 
"Are you okay?" she prodded, settling her hand on his cheek. 
Leaning into her touch without a second thought, he shuttered his eyes in a lingering blink. "'M okay. I don't know why, but it was hard to watch him—or listen to him." 
She tossed him a shrewd glance. "Yeah? You didn't like watching him ask me out?" 
He shook his head, cheeks stretching around his growing grin. "I didn't, actually. It actually made me a little angry. I wanted to punch him when he touched you." 
"Really?!" she bubbled, a plume of laughter falling from her lips, "I didn't think you could get jealous! You're always so calm!" 
"Was I jealous?" he prodded, tugging on her leg in a teasing pull, "Is that what happened?" 
"It sounds like it! You wanted to hit him?" she asked again, leaning towards him with a conspiratorial gleam to her eyes. 
"Maybe," he mused, "If he'd done anything to upset you, I might have. He was already annoying enough." 
There had to have been something in his answer that she enjoyed seeing as she pressed forward and sealed her mouth to his. He smiled into the contact for a moment, dimples in his cheeks before melting into her touch. Slotting his lips to hers, it was (Y/N) that deepened the kiss with a trace of her tongue over the pillows of his lips. 
The sounds of their lips parting and coming together filtered through the bathroom as Harry reached towards her hand on his face, wrapping his fingers around the fine bones of her wrist. It was when he scraped his teeth over the full of her bottom lip, a small nip, that she parted her crossed legs and drew him between her thighs. 
He was hyper aware of the party going on outside the door, and the fact that this was the apartment of someone he'd never met before, but at the same time Harry didn't care. 
If she liked seeing him jealous this much, he wasn't going to stop her. 
At the movement of her legs, her phone was tossed to the floor, landing on a bathmat at her feet. Neither had acknowledged the thump, until it started vibrating with a call. 
(Y/N) reluctantly pulled away with a sigh, resting her forehead on his. "It's Fran, isn't it?" 
"Probably," he muttered, blindly reaching for her phone before handing it off. 
Harry only had to see the way she pulled in a long breath, an affectionate roll of her eyes, before she pressed the device to her ear that told him their suspicions were right. 
"Hello?" she answered, drifting her hand from his cheek to card through her hair. 
Getting only one side of the conversation, Harry had to put the pieces together while watching the expressions that crossed her face. As far as he could tell, Francesca was especially amusing today. 
"Yes, we're here," (Y/N) continued, nodding along to whatever Fran was bubbling about. "Yes, me and Harry... No, she's not here—as far as I've seen anyway... When are you going to get here?.. We'll still be here; we're just in the bathroom right now." She paused just before a peal of laughter rang through the room, her nails grazing over his scalp. (The touch had a certain shiver streaking down his spine). "No! We're hiding from some F1 guy that keeps inviting us to some race next month... If you want, you can go instead. I don't know if he has a yacht, but I'm sure you could convince him." 
Gazing up at her from where he sat before her, Harry felt his own lips curving into a lopsided smile. He loved seeing her stripped down like this; she'd told him more than once that he was one of the only people he was able to vulnerable and herself around, but he'd seen just how young she was around Francesca. He could see glimpses of who she was before he'd met her, the girl who'd been around before cameras were documenting her every move. 
It had his heart rattling against his ribs. 
With his wandering head, Harry hadn't realized she'd ended her call until she hung up the phone and placed both of her hands on his cheeks. 
"Do you know how many times I've wished I could be in your head?" she told him, a small smile to her lips, "I just want to know what you're thinking—you're so hard to read." 
"'S you," he said, sincerity rivaling the lighthearted tone to her voice,"'S always you."
She looked at him with amusement in her eyes, the same way she always did when he said something adoring: as if she didn't believe him, instead waiting for the joke to land. 
He could do nothing other than surge forward and press his lips to hers. He'd always been better at showing than telling her how he felt. 
—————
thank u sm to whoever requested and for everyone who read to this point! so sorry for any mistakes, and please let me know if you have any fun ideas of your own:)
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wildpeachfarm · 1 day
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oof it seems patches also posted her piece on dream...
https://www.reddit.com/r/DreamWasTaken2/s/2t4s9yjEVc
i think she has valid points, though i wish she also addressed milo's shitting on the bed allegations 😔
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this is killing me😭😭😭
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cadaverkeys · 1 day
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Are you a Minecraft gay or a Stardew gay?
This qualifies as a micro aggression
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shittyjunedaily · 18 hours
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Do you think June could do a kickflip on a skateboard?
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yeah definitely -mod kari
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rafeysdoll · 2 days
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what would rafe think if u get a build a bear with his name on its shirt !! n record his voice for the lil heart in it ૮꒰ྀི -᷄ -᷅ ꒱ྀིა
he would probably think its stupid but :(
honestly i think he’d like it in the sense he likes being needed by you, you know? and reader having a whole tiny clone of him would make him go crazy a bit after the initial shock
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when you eagerly lead him into your bedroom after he comes back from a business trip he has a completely different idea. that same eagerness transferring to him for a whole different reason, smirking to himself at how excited you were.
you open your door and quickly drag him to your frilly bed, giggling to yourself. “close your eyes please, i have a surprise!”
rafe closes his eyes, already imagining you in some new cute getup. one that would ultimately end up torn up and discarded on your floor.
“okay, open!” you squeal.
he peeks, thrown off guard when he sees you holding a light brown teddy bear — fully clothed might he add — wearing a mini polo shirt he swears he has somewhere in his own closet, small letters that spell his name engraved in the middle.
“it’s you!”
“me?”
“yeahh, look, press his hand!” you smile, lifting his hand and guiding it to the fluffy bear paw. when rafe squeezes it lightly he quickly tenses up a bit when he hears his own voice say — ‘hi baby. love you.’
“w-what the fuck?” he whispers to himself, caught off guard completely. you pout, ears starting to burn with embarrassment. maybe this was a bad idea.
he looks up at you with bewilderment, quickly shaking his head when he sees your pitiful expression. “no, no i-i didn’t mean it like that baby. just- just confused me. has my.. uh voice and everything.. how did it do that?” he asks, staring at the stuffed animal with wide eyes.
“from build a bear.. saved one of your voice memos,” you mewl bashfully — unable to meet his gaze.
“that’s.. that’s real cute baby.” he reassures, standing up and kissing your cheek. “you.. don’t think it’s weird or stupid?” you frown, hugging the plush to your chest.
he shakes his head, making you smile again. “good! now when i miss you i’ll have this!” you beam, giving it a small hug before placing it on your bed.
it made his heart feel tight and warm — sinking into the feeling of being needed. it was addicting, to say the least.
he smirks, kissing your lips softly. “mm, the real things right here with you right now though, so uh.. why- why don’t you show me how much you missed me, yeah? must’ve missed me a lot huh baby? even got a mini clone of me and everything.” he speaks softly, totally contradicting from the way he was trying to lightly pick at you.
but you loved it, always having your stomach fill with butterflies with the way he was able to make ‘mean’ so deliciously sweet.
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paper-mario-wiki · 1 day
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i don't mean to be rude because it's really possibly you didn't see the name. but just letting you know you reblogged that ship post from someone named feminismisstillahatemovement. . . took a cursory look and that person is both a terf and a zionist. Okay bye bye
whoa what the fuck i didnt even notice. it was a pic of a sunken ship with a fun fact i cant believe they tricked me. ah well, fuck that bozo.
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bulletsxlattes · 2 days
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Tim calling Jason beautiful and Jason blushing
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I honestly think Jason is the type to either cringe at compliments/nice words or just not know how to respond. And then he'd replay the moment in his head over and over while laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. It'll haunt him in the shower the next day for good measure.
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shanastoryteller · 2 days
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Happy birthday!!!! More FMA!
He’s fucking tired.
In Xerxes, he’s Van Edris. In Xerxes, he’s the son of a former slave, having narrowly escaped being born into his father’s fate by virtue of him being awarded freedom by the time of his birth. In Xerxes, he’s an uncommon commodity, an alchemist with a skill that hasn’t been seen since his father fucked off to who knows where.
In Amestris, he’s Edward Elric. In Amestris, he’s the son of Trisha Elric who was born free and died free because while there are lots of different forms of freedom, in Amestris there’s one that everyone shares. In Amestris, he’s unknown and unremarkable and no one gives a fuck about what he does.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says flatly.
This is what he gets for visiting his father’s country. It’s just fucking unfortunate that the really good alchemical texts are here.
He should have let Al (Van Altun, as they know him, even though the two of them having been using their Amestrian names almost their whole lives, regardless of what country they were in) do it. They’re not nearly as weird about him.
Pakor is alright, as far as kings go. He’s freed a lot of people, is poking at the laws of ownership that has governed his country for centuries to see if he can do anything about them without getting beheaded for it. He’s also known Ed since he was a barely able to walk, back when his father still made court appearances and brought the family along with him. Former slave against most talented alchemist in the country, and people tended to politely ignore the former. Hell, Ed’s been counting on the same thing since he was twelve.
Of course, now it’s coming back to bite him. People say he’s a genius, but if he was really smart he would have stayed far, far away from court. Like in Amestris, perhaps.
“You’re fluent in both languages,” Pakor says, coaxing.
“So are you,” he says accusingly. “We’re speaking Amestrian right now!”
Pakor sighs and switches to Xerxian. “You also speak Xingese and Drachman. You’re a difficult man to keep secrets from.”
“I’m also Amestrian!” he shouts. “And free, might I add! You can’t sell me off to slavery just to get some intel!”
“It’s not like we’ll brand you,” he says, affronted, and Ed is reminded that alright for a king is still pretty shitty. “We just need someone to do a little – double checking. To ensure the situation in Amestris is as it’s advertised.”
“You want to gift me to the Fuhrer to spy on him and you’re, what, just hoping he doesn’t notice that I understand everything and know everything and am, oh yeah, one of his citizens? I’ve been to Central before! With my luck, I’ll get recognized the first day here and then run out of Amestris! And, again, Amestris doesn’t have slaves! The leader of the country really can’t have one.”
Pakor sighs. “You’re very dramatic, Edris. It won’t be so bad. Here, I’ll say you’re my personal slave and that you’re on loan. It’ll be for cultural exchange purposes. He speaks Xingese, so you can communicate in that language without letting on you know Amestrian.”
Ed pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is a stupid fucking idea.”
“If you do this,” Pakor says, “I’ll give you the key to the royal library.”
Ed slowly lowers his hand, eyes narrowing. “I’ve been asking you to let me in there for years.”
“I figured I’d need to bargain it away eventually,” he says. “I was hoping you’d marry one of my daughters for it.” Having even light court obligations is bad enough, he’s in no way stupid enough to marry in. “You’re very difficult, you know. I’m your king. I shouldn’t have to bargain with you.”
“Tough shit,” Ed says, because Pakor may have known him for nearly twenty years, but that knowing goes both ways. Besides, he can’t piss him off because then he and Al will stop reparing all their shit bridges and infrastructure. “Fine. But if I lose my Amestrian citizenship over this, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Noted,” Pakor says brightly.
Uhg.
It doesn’t help that everything he’s heard about Fuhrer Mustang makes the man sound insufferable.
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