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rafeandonlyrafe · 9 days

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reckless

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, male receiving oral, aged up!rafe (28), age gap (reader is 20), reader kinda dumb and stupid tbh, breaking and entering but actually technically she didnt break anything so just entering, urban exploring

“stay away from that house.” your friend warns, following your eyesight to get light shining from only one window, the rest of the house covered in shadow.

“why?” you question, curiosity growing.

“some asshole lives there. i guess he got real rich when he was young and now he spends all his time inside hiding. the whole island hates him but nothing he did was bad enough to land him in prison…” your friend gives you a serious look. “or at least nothing they can prove.”

you're new to the outer banks, but she already knows your personality. you're defiant and confident, afraid of nothing.

it's why despite her warnings the next night you're scaling up the fence and hopping over to the other side. you note the well taken care of yard, whoever this guy is must still employ a lawn crew.

you keep your footsteps light but unhurried as you walk around the exterior of the enormous house, still just the one window with a light on, like no one else has been in any other part of the home for a long time.

you figure a house like this might have security, but you live only a block away and would certainly get to your house before any cops would show up.

you peer in a few windows, but it's too dark inside to really make out anything. you make your way into the backyard, looking down the long dock to see a yacht. you consider exploring that first before shaking your head and focusing back in on the house.

in your old city, you had a habit of breaking into places. not to steal or damage anything, just for the thrill of getting in and looking around, knowing you're not supposed to be there.

you peer in through the glass doors. it's not that late, only 11pm, but you figure the old man who lives here must already be upstairs and hopefully asleep as you grip the handle.

you wait to hear an alarm from just your touch, but when the house remains silent, you attempt to turn the handle, surprised and happy that it's completely unlocked as you slide it open.

you step into the living room, looking around at the intricate and clearly expensive decorations. your friend was definitely right about this guy being rich, but of course he is if he lives in a neighborhood like this.

“damn.” you mutter to yourself, stepping closer to a fancy vase sat on a table. you purposely leave the glass door open in case you need to make a quick escape out.

your eyes take in every piece of art hung on the wall and gold detailed lamps as you head further into the house, peeking into rooms as you quickly map out the layout. you note the stairs in the center hallway leading up, able to tell there's one light on and deciding quickly to avoid it.

you make like the rush of breaking into places, but you certainly don't like getting caught as you tiptoe into the kitchen next. out of pure curiosity, you open a couple cabinets to find them well stocked.

you focus in on the fridge next. you don't intend to steal but maybe this guy has a couple bottles of beer that won't be missed.

you frown when you realize it's mostly healthy food and energy drinks as you close the fridge, practically jumping out of your skin when you realize there's a tall man with his arms crossed, leaning against the cabinet.

“what are you doing here?” you yell, backing up and putting the island between you and him.

“bold of you to ask me that considering you're the one breaking into my house.” the man's voice is easy going and gentle despite the circumstances.

“your house?” you look the guy up and down. “i thought the guy who lived here was old.”

he moves to the island, placing himself directly in the middle so you can't bolt away, a movement you're very aware of.

“and what made you think that?” he questions. it's hard to tell in the low light, only the faint glow of buttons on the fridge and a bit of moonlight creeping in, but he looks young. your guess is late 20s or early 30s, not like the senior citizen you were picturing.

“my friend told me some asshole-” you cringe at the bad choice of words but continue on. “lives here who got rich when he was young.”

“hm, yeah that does sound like me.” the guy hums. “so what, you were gonna steal from me?”

“no.” you quickly shake your head. “i don't steal, i have no need. i just… like urban exploring.” you decide on saying.

“mmm, isn't that usually exploring abandoned places?” he questions, somehow still carrying on the conversation so naturally, like you're an invited guest rather than a trespasser.

“i thought this place was basically abandoned. like i said, thought you were old.” you shrug.

“well, im only 28, so if you consider that old.” he crosses his arms, muscles bulging.

“im 20.” you say, swallowing thickly.

you can see the gleam in the man's teeth as he smiles. “interesting… come with me.”

his command is so effortless, you find your feet moving before your mind catches up, following him deeper into the house and up the stairs.

“what are you going to do with me?” you ask, worrying he's going to call the cops. your parents would be pissed if only a week after they move you out of the big city you get arrested again.

“did your friend happen to tell you why i stay in this house?” he hums, opening a door and beckoning you in. you quickly realize this is the bedroom with the lights always on.

“um, just that you did something and no one likes you.”

“that's exactly right, even though i did nothing wrong. i only ever wanted to protect my family.” you see anger briefly take over his features as he relieves whatever memory that made him so hated. “but still, it's hard being lonely.”

he takes a couple steps forward, swinging the door shut behind him to keep the two of you in there, alone. “it's why id like your company…”

“y/n.” you mumble your name. you don't bother to give a fake name.

“y/n.” the name rolls seamlessly off his tongue, like a purr. “im rafe.”

“what do you mean by company, rafe?” now that you're in the light and can get a good look at him, you're hoping it's what you're thinking.

“isn't it obvious?” he quirks his head to the side. “i want you to sleep with me.”

“okay.” you whisper. you're certainly not inexperienced or against sleeping with random guys, even if your friend did warn you about him. you've already gone two whole weeks without getting anything, and you're starting to feel a little high strung.

“perfect.” rafe crosses past you, placing himself on the edge of the. neatly made bed. “undress.”

his command is once again so simple and effective that your hands begin moving instantly, pulling off your tank top to reveal your bright pink bra before sliding your shorts down next to show off the matching underwear.

you turn your back towards rafe and look over your shoulder as you slide your panties down, revealing your bare ass and pussy before kicking off your sandals.

you walk over to rafe slowly, a smile on your face as you undo the last piece of clothing covering you and let your bra drop to the floor.

“fuck, you're sexy.” rafe leans forward and grabs you, hands gripping your ass, squeezing the plump flesh there. he doesn't bother to wait for you to recover as he sits you onto his lap, cunt being pressed into his thigh as his mouth devours yours.

you can feel his need in the kiss, how starved he is from touch as you begin to kiss back, hands rubbing all over his front.

you only briefly stop the kiss to yank his shirt off. you're not surprised by his muscles, you could tell how perfectly built he was even in the dark kitchen.

rafe begins to slide your pussy against his pants, wetting his thigh as your clit drags against the material.

“fuck, you're already so wet.” rafe moans into your mouth. you don't pause to tell him that you always get a little bit wet in excitement when breaking into a new place.

“let me blow you.” you slide off, already missing the feeling on your pussy as you pull at rafes pants. he lifts his hips to help you and you waste no time, pulling his underwear down as well.

rafes cock pops up, hard and ready for attention. you push his thighs open with your hands so you can nestle between his legs, smiling as you watch a bead of precum from before licking it clean.

“god.” rafe groans, a hand fisting in your hair, tangling his fingers into the strands. “it's been so long since someone else has touched me.”

you feel bad for rafe in that moment, but it's quickly forgotten in favor of wrapping your lips around the head of his cock and giving it an intense suck, wanting to show him a truly good time.

you begin to bob your head, slowly taking more and more of his length into your mouth. he's not the biggest you've ever gotten with, but his girth certainly makes up for it as you get used to him pushing at the walls of your throat.

you'll certainly need more attention to your pussy to be able to take him as you reach down and rub your fingers against your clit, wanting to jump on his cock the second you're done blowing him.

“how are you only 20?” rafe asks, talking mostly to himself considering your mouth is occupied. “you suck dick so well.”

you don't want to comment that you've had lots of experience, but you have a feeling he won't judge you for it. so many guys sleep around yet want every girl to be a virgin, and that's certainly something you don't subscribe to.

with a final push, you're able to take rafe all the way down as you nuzzle your nose into his skin, gagging slightly but able to hold for a decently long time before you need to pull off to take a deep breath.

“come up here, baby.” rafe says, tugging your hand that isn't still playing with your pussy. “want to fuck you.”

you wipe your mouth before standing up, glad you weren't on your knees for long as you move onto the bed.

“fuck me good, daddy.” you purr out, staying on your hands and knees and swaying your ass to entice rafe as he moves behind you.

“oh, i will baby.” rafe rubs his cock through your folds, not bothering to offer to put on a condom when you so clearly don't care.

rafe teases you, pressing slightly against your entrance before going back to rubbing against you until you're frustrated and aching. you're about to open your mouth to complain, to tell him to hurry it up, when his cock plunges inside of you in one quick motion that has you screaming out.

“oh, fuck!” you squeal as rafe instantly begins pounding into you.

rafe smiles as he looks towards the window, slightly cracked. he hopes the neighbors hear your screams and moans of pleasure and learn that he's not just willing to stay inside for the rest of his life. no, rafe is crafting his revenge against the town and when the time comes, they will all regret the way they treated him.

rafe looks down at you as he thrusts into you, your head hung forward and curls bouncing with every movement as he punishes your cunt.

“shit.” rafe groans, pulling out to quickly flip you onto your back.

his mouth meets yours just as his cock reenters you, kissing you wildly while he thrusts without abandon, letting himself loose on you.

rafe can feel himself swelling inside of you and tries his best to hold back from cumming, fingers reaching to your clit to focus on your pleasure before his own, wanting to extend this as long as possible.

“god, you feel so good.” you moan out, jaw slackened even as rafe continue to kiss around your mouth, eyes glossed over in pure pleasure.

“yeah?” rafe smiles. “you gonna cum for me?”

“mhm. keep- keep rubbing.” you tilt your head back as he swipes over your clit, back and forth, building you up while his cock fills out your insides.

“come on, baby.” rafe moans out, kissing you again, unable to stop even though he wants to hear your moans. his hips move faster and faster until he can't hold back anymore, pulling out and releasing all over your stomach in long ropes.

you squeal out as he pinches your clit, triggering your own orgasm as your entire body shakes, back arching off the bed.

“fuck!” you shout. “rafe!”

you both flop against the mattress, breathing heavily as you recover, pussy dripping wet onto his blankets.

“thanks for the company.” rafe smiles, causing you to laugh.

“yeah, always happy to stick around.” you giggle, leaning into his side. there's certainly no shame cuddling up to him after what you just did.

“would you… would you come back tomorrow?” rafe asks, pushing a strand of hair off where it was sticking to your face.

“first week in a new town and i already found myself a fuck buddy? hell yeah ill come back tomorrow.” you kiss rafe quickly before standing up off his bed, putting your tanktop and shorts back on but leaving your wet panties and bright bra on the floor.

“but have pizza, im a classy girl after all, i only let you fuck me once before buying me dinner.” you walk out of the bedroom to rafes deep chuckle.

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kotohq · 2 months

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##. MY HEART'S GOING LUB-DUB

♡ things he has said that flustered you.

♡ contents and warnings: established relationships, mentions of making out (nirei), mentions of marriage (sakura), reader’s ears are pierced in suou’s, mild, mild, possessiveness in suou's but not really 🐧

♡ characters: sakura haruka, nirei akihiko, suou hayato (x gn! reader)

Anyone who knows SAKURA HARUKA probably knows that contrary to the delinquent facade he puts up, he is actually quite innocent. A little naive, if you will, blushing at every show of romantic affection. And everyone in Boufuurin knows that’s why he’s become subject to Suou Hayato’s teasing when the brown haired boy needed a good chuckle. And of course, you, as his very lovely partner, had to also jump on the bandwagon of endearingly poking fun at your boyfriend.

“Y’know, Haruka, you should stop me or else I’m gonna get carried away and keep teasing you even after we get married!” This was a sentence you often say for laughs after you had yet again successfully made Haruka agitated and his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red, all the way up to his ears. Granted, the first time he heard it he couldn’t look you in the eye for two whole days at the mention marriage (it’s not that he doesn’t like it, in fact it was because he likes it a little too much that he couldn’t even make eye contact without imagining you in fancy white attire). But now, he barely bats an eye at it now with how often you say it. But today, it’s evident that that particular sentence had poked at someone’s curiosity as you can sense someone staring at you as you banter with your boyfriend.

“You know, Sakura-kun, I barely see you reacting to... that. You’re really planning to marry them in the future, huh?” Ah, it's Suou again. His soothing voice drips with mischief, the purpose of his question is obviously to tease his heterochromatic eyed peer yet again. Haruka’s features morph into one of confusion, brows furrowed as he turns to face his vice captain.

“Hah? What are you talking about?” Haruka inquires like suou’s question is the most ridiculous question in the world. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought suou was asking him if he believed pigs could fly, or if the earth was actually a hexagon.

(Of course, you can’t lie, suou’s question made you nervous despite how lighthearted he said it. Your self consciousness has already prepared itself for a heartbreak trip as you await your boyfriend to continue his response.)

“Why would I date someone I don’t intend on marrying?”

Ah, now it’s your cheeks that are heating up.

“Are you done?” The only answer SUOU HAYATO offers to your inquiry is a focused hum. His hand fumbles with the earring, his earring, as he tries to carefully slide the hook into the small hole on your right earlobe. Though, you have to say, you have nothing particular to complain about as you wait for your boyfriend to put the earring on you. After all, you’re getting the privilege of being in the front seat staring at Suou Hayato’s face as he carefully tries to put the earring on you. Lips pursed and eyes squinted a little, he looks extra handsome when he’s focused, you note.

“Just need to secure them with the back. And... done!” he heaves out a breath as triumph takes over his features, pulling back slightly to admire his (hardly) hard work. His lips stretch into a smile, satisfied at how the red and yellow of his earring highlights your features more.

“How does it look?” you feel quite nervous as you wait for his reply, shyly peering at him through your eyelashes. Being so close, you have the advantage of watching closely for any twitch of his features that might indicate satisfaction, dissatisfaction, anything that can indicate what kind of reaction he’s going to emit.

You twitch slightly at the sensation of his pointer finger and middle finger grazing your chin, touch gentle as he settles them there. You swear you see something flashing in his usually gentle ruby eyes. Something akin to satisfaction, or, even, possessiveness. But you don't comment on it. He moves your head from your side to side as if to examine you thoroughly. (he quietly notes how cute you are for compliantly moving your head.) It’s only when you feel the earring faintly brushing against your right shoulder that you become hyper aware of how empty your left ear feels without an earring weighing it down. You also become hyper aware of the fact that the earring’s pair is still dangling from his left ear, eyes instinctively flitting to it. Your cheeks begin to heat up. Oh, it’s almost as if you’re wearing a couple ite-

He interrupts your thought before you can finish it.

“I quite like it, it’s pretty on you,” his voice breaks your train of thought. His smile is quite literally dripping with mischief, and now you can clearly see it. The tint of greed in his eyes is back as he moves his fingers that were formerly resting on your chin to stroke at the earring on your ear. His composed facade would have fooled you if it weren’t for the words he utters next.

“It gives off the feeling that you’re mine.”

Oh he likes it, alright. Too much, maybe.

“Sorry. D’you need a break?” NIREI AKIHIKO’s voice is devoid of any teasing lilt, instead dripping with concern as he gazes at you through his eyelashes, eyes half lidded and cheeks flushed with a pretty tint of pink.

It’s not the words by themselves. It’s the fact that he’s saying those words in this kind of situation. By this kind of situation, you mean with you perched up on his lap, legs splayed on either side of his thighs as he lay seated on a couch beneath you. He had uttered those exact words after what felt like 10 minutes straight of kissing

(it hadn’t even been 5 minutes, but you could barely think with how clouded your mind is).

His question was thoroughly leaking with worry, caramel orbs boring through you as he awaits your reply. You wanted to say yes, hell, your lungs were begging you to say yes as they heaved desperately yes. You have to give your boyfriend credit, though. Sweet like always, he had noticed he had gone a little too far when he felt your lips part with breathless whines on his, and had asked if you needed a time out. Though, you don’t think he’s aware of how his voice shakes with want, or how his fingers that are resting on your hips squeezed hard like he was trying to ground himself, or how his eyes are swirling with something akin to need.

(or how he barely sounded apologetic when he apologized, and you suspect it’s because his pride soars with the knowledge that he’s the one making you breathless.)

“No,” you’re surprised at how hoarse your voice sounds, though, that is to be expected after you quite literally just had your breath taken away. Your thumb reaches out to swipe at his quivering bottom lip, gleaming with saliva and a little swollen from pressing against yours repeatedly. He leans into your touch, and you gulp away the feeling of your tugging heartstrings. “Keep kissing me, lover boy.”

And as he lurches forward to clash your lips together again, the last thought that etches on your mind was that he really should put this on his resume: Nirei Akihiko, 16, not good at fighting (yet), hella good at kissing.

#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker x reader #suou hayato x reader #nirei akihiko x reader #sakura haruka x reader

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luveline · 2 years

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𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary You ask your best friend Eddie to give you your first kiss. Eddie's not really in the habit of saying no to you. [4k]

warnings fem!reader, fluff, first kiss, eddie being totally sweet on his best friend, wrist kisses, sharing a bed, eddie reads to you, you hurt your arm and eddie is overprotective/doting etc, unspoken mutual pining, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

"This is way heavier than you implied," you say, words followed by a startled, pained gasp as you lose your grip on the amp and it almost pops your wrist from the socket trying to keep it up.

"Shit," he says.

Eddie quickly shoves the bigger amp he'd been carrying into the back of the van and makes to help you, his fingers pushing into your stomach as he lugs it up into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he says, and for once you think his apology might be genuine. "I forget how heavy they feel at the end of the night."

Your arms ache. You definitely pulled something you didn't mean to, a sharp pinching pain climbing from your wrist to the crook of your elbow. "Eddie, I think I hurt myself."

He shoves the last amp into the van and doesn't bother closing the door, turning back to you with a concerned grimace. "Yeah? Your wrist?"

He holds his hand out and you extend your arm, wincing. He's tentative, taking your wrist in one hand while the other grasps your upper arm loosely.

"What's it feel like?"

"Like I twisted my ankle, but in my wrist."

He laughs under his breath at your explanation, sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes as he looks you over. "The word you're looking for is 'sprained,'" he informs you jovially.

There's no physical evidence of any injury, not that either of you had expected that, and he has no real reason to be touching you. His thumb smooths over the flat of your wrist.

"How bad is it? Amputation?" you ask, suddenly all drama. You put on a tearful frown and pinch your eyebrows together.

Eddie – who's used to this, who encourages this – nods gravely. "You'll likely never use it again."

"Good heavens, doc. Is there really nothing you can do?" you implore, leaning away from him with your uninjured hand thrown to your forehead.

"Nothing… unless you're willing to undergo the most invasive, painful, gruesome operation any one girl has ever undergone."

"Anything."

"Close your eyes."

You close them, always willing to play these fanciful make-believe's with him. He's charming, it's funny, but you can't say you expect the hot press of his lips against your pulse. If it had been a smacking, playful thing with too much spit you would have laughed about it, but it hadn't been. It's gentle. It's sweet.

He pulls away. You open your eyes to find him lingering, staring at your wrist. A split-second.

"Fixed, right?" he asks smugly.

You take your arm back and curl it towards your chest, twinging with pain. "Definitely. Good as new."

Eddie slams the back doors shut and stretches with a groan, cool night air kissing the shining sliver of abdomen that emerges. He's always sweaty after a gig. You know you should find it gross.

You should.

"Alright, get in the van, sweet thing. It's way past your bedtime."

You laugh and climb into the passenger side, skirt riding up and tights featuring a brand new ladder thanks to some idiot who'd almost broken your leg. You point it out to Eddie as he starts the engine, "Did you see this? S'my last good pair of tights."

He tugs at the ladder and you squeal, pulling your thigh up and over the other so he can't reach it.

"There, they're punk now. Do it on purpose and you're cool," he says sagely.

"Are you staying?" he asks, the question so familiar it doesn't need a proper end.

"Thanks for that."

There's lost minutes of a comfortable silence. You watch the roads change as you draw nearer and nearer to home.

"If you shower first."

He sighs like this is very tortuous of you to ask but agrees. "Yeah, whatever. Always get what you want," he mutters, taking a rough turn that has you gripping your seat. "My bad."

"Learn to drive!" you demand, laughing.

"You learn to drive! Then you wouldn't need a ride every night!"

"Baby," you say earnestly. "Rides to your shows."

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. You turn to him, perplexed by his uncharacteristic silence. Usually he has something quick to say, an uppity comeback, too witty for his own good and twice as fast.

"What? Wait, don't tell me, you're having a total epiphany right now on why I'm the best friend you've ever had." You nod to yourself, leaning back in your seat with your chin held high. "It's easy. I'm extremely dedicated, I'm sharp as a whip. I'm funny, I'm confident-"

"Humble."

"I'm humble. And obviously very pretty."

He hums to himself. "I kind of hate when you joke about stuff like that."

You blink and drop your chin. "What?" you ask. Weaker than you mean to, your chest feels that heavy weight of an unexpected argument, but Eddie doesn't look angry.

"Because- 'cos I know you don't mean it." He draws his eyes from the road, a familiar stretch of black top leading into Forest Hills, and gives you a well-meaning grimace.

"Sorry, I-"

He clears his throat. "No, don't be. I guess I wished you actually believed that shit. Do you know how many people would come to all of my shows? Listen to the same ten songs, drink the same shitty beer and then help me pack up at the end of the night?" He sounds back to normal. Punchy, a hair's width from incensed. "Nobody but you."

"I'm your best friend," you say firmly. "Of course I'm gonna do all that."

"Right." He laughs and scrapes a hand through his dishevelled hair.

You pull into the parking spot and climb out of the van. You slip like you always do, giggling to yourself as Eddie comes around to roll his eyes at you and shut the door.

"We'll leave it for tonight," he says after he's retrieved Sweetheart, his prized guitar, traipsing up the steps to the front door. "Don't want you straining your poor wrist any further."

You kind of agree. "Or you could do it all by yourself and I'll watch."

"Maybe tomorrow. Are you hungry?"

You ignore his question and waltz straight into his bedroom, throwing yourself down on his rumpled sheets with a harrumph. He puts Sweetheart back into her rightful place and presses a kiss to his fingers. You can't help thinking of the kiss he'd given you, bringing your wrist to your chest where he can't see. It feels the same as it had before, but different. It still aches.

Eddie throws himself down next to you and climbs up over your back, a hand on your shoulder. "Is it still hurting?"

You squeeze it. "Not really."

"Let me see? If it's swollen I could get you some ice. Or, like, a bag of frozen peas. Not that I think we'd have anything that green in the freezer," he corrects himself.

"I don't think they have to be peas to work."

"What if that's where you're wrong? What if we totally need the power of the peas?"

You turn on your back so he can see your wrist. Hovering above you, all his smells and sounds are amplified. The gentle hum as he looks over your arm. The smell of sweat under deodorant, cigarette smoke and something funkier. Then, mixed in with everything, cedar.

When his kind attention on your wrist becomes too much you wrinkle your nose and make a big show of moving away from him. "God, you stink."

"You're fucking horrible," he says, putting your arm down carefully. "I'm gonna shower. Find your pajamas."

"Did you wash them?" you ask as he climbs off of the bed.

"Nope."

You grumble about dirty clothes and search for the pajamas you'd left here last time. Eddie disappears into the cramped bathroom and you can hear every sound he makes, the clipping of bottle caps, even his footsteps moving from the cabinet under the sink and into the shower.

Water sloughs heavily against the glass partition and you try not to listen, try not to think about him and what he's doing and where his hands are.

When he comes in he's in a towel and nothing else. You squeak and pull his covers up past your eyes. "Christ, Eds."

"What? It's my room. I forgot to take clothes in with me."

"You're sullying my eyes."

"Like you've never seen it before."

You scowl. "I've never seen you naked."

"Can you come out? You're being ridiculous."

You hear him go into the bathroom and let the sheets fall from your face, blinking at the sudden brightness. Yellow lamp light bounces of the poster-covered walls, shiny as egg yolk.

He's left the bathroom door open. You peer out into the hallway and then stop yourself, feeling guilty. You don't actually want to see him naked. You're curious.

"Fine," he says as he trudges back in, plaid pants low on his hips. He shrugs into a t-shirt and it sticks to his damp torso, leaving his dark happy trail on show for the second time tonight. "You've never seen me naked. It's not like you've never seen any guy naked."

You feel a tepid mixture of embarrassment and defensiveness. "Who says I've seen a guy naked?"

His eyes are owlishly large, dark lashes not far from kissing his eyebrows as they pinch together. "What?"

You don't repeat yourself.

"You fucked Jerry Mandoza."

"Did not," you say, startled.

"I gave you condoms."

You resist the urge to glare at him. "And you can have them back, if you like. They've been in my nightstand for a year."

"I thought you liked him."

"I did. I just wasn't… ready."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "That's fine, babe. Swear. But, you never told me. Why didn't you tell me?"

He sits heavily at the end of the bed and takes the towel from around his neck, scrubbing ruthlessly at his wet curls.

"That's exactly why your hair gets so frizzy," you chide lightly, climbing on knees to his side. You ease the towel from his hands and are much kinder than he'd been, drying the skin before his hairline and behind his ears and then moving onto his pretty curls.

"He didn't do anything creepy, did he?" Eddie asks. He smells like toothpaste.

You laugh as you wring excess water from his hair as carefully as you can. "No. He was actually really sweet. Said all the right things. He was a gentleman," you drawl dropping the towel back to his shoulders.

"But?"

You sit back and smile at him. "I don't know. He leaned in for a kiss and I just… I got so nervous about it. He closed his eyes and I didn't think, I turned my cheek. He didn't call me for another date. Can't say I blame him."

You're not sure why you never told Eddie that story before. He tilts his head to one side and squints. "Why were you nervous? He was in marching band."

You snort. "It wasn't about him. I guess I was worried my first kiss would be awful."

He rubs the back of his neck with his towel. "First kiss, huh?" he asks.

"Right."

He pulls the towel away, holds it in his lap. You notice his rings are missing, likely still in the bathroom. "I mean, I think you did the right thing. If you weren't ready it can't hurt to wait. And first kisses, they can really suck. Mine, with fucking- fucking Darren Harmon, that sucked. He spit in my mouth so much I think I tasted his dinner from the night before."

You laugh in shock and disgust. "That's gross."

"Tell me about it."

"Why did he spit?"

Eddie brings his legs up onto the bed and his tone is gentle. "Well, when you kiss someone, there's like-" He raises his hands and drops them, lost for the right words. "You know, tongue."

"Is it weird?"

"Sure. Of course it is. But it's really fucking fun, too. Or it can be, if the spit is kept to a minimum." He purses his lips, eyebrows raised. "Actually, spit can be kinda nice if you like the person you're kissing. It's hard to explain."

You spread your legs to fall into a W-shape, hands braced on your knees. "Sorry, I'm not trying to harass you for details."

"You're my best friend. I'll tell you anything you want."

You smile at your legs.

Eddie reaches over to put his hand atop yours. He's leaning toward you, hair falling in his face as he catches your eye. "It's fine. Keep your first kiss for someone you actually like, babe. You'll like it better."

He squeezes your fingers and leaves the room. You can hear him filling a glass of water and turning off all the lights he's left on.

"Did you want anything else?" he asks, offering the glass.

"No, I'm just gonna brush my teeth really quick."

"Take your time."

You take a little bit more than you need to, staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror until your heart is pounding, thoughts coming a thousand a second. Lately, Eddie's touches – his hand around your wrist, his thigh over your thigh, even the thud of his rubber toed converse tapping yours – have become individual events in time. Even when you can't remember the conversation, you can remember his skin on yours. You look at photos from gigs and instead of thinking, Oh, that's the night we made fun of Gareth's new haircut, a truly momentous occasion, you think, That's the night Eddie tugged me by the belt loop. That's when he brushed an eyelash off of my cheek. That's when he leaned in so close I thought he was gonna kiss me.

Even now, the conversation about kisses is fading though you desperately want to remember what he'd said. The sound of his voice slips away. The heat of his fingers curled around yours remains.

You wash your hands twice and don't feel any better.

As if destiny or some higher power feels the need to taunt you, you slide into bed with an amicable handful of inches between your thigh and Eddie's and he totally ignores the gap, sidling up to you with a smile.

"You'll like this," he says, spreading the paperback in his hands open on your thigh. "'A pockmark of matter that can dissolve any light that threatens to eradicate, to nullify, to quantify. An indelible darkness, spreading from one universe to the other, the pristine pages of a tome sullied by a piercing fountain of ink,'" he reads to you, his voice smooth and unhurried. "Guess what she's talking about?"

"Dark matter?"

"What? Keep your astronomy to yourself, dork. She's talking about the Puppet's heart. How sick is that?"

You grin. It is pretty sick.

Eddie's smile grows with yours, though his lips part when he notices something on your face. "You have-" He brings his thumb to your mouth and brushes it roughly, tugging the soft pillow of your upper lip up.

You turn your face. "Jeez. Keep your hands to yourself, Munson."

"Sorry," he says, not sounding very sorry.

"You wanna read some more of your book to me?" you ask. "My eyes are tired."

You lay down flat with one of his pillows smushed under your head and Eddie reads, sitting with his back to the headboard. "'You turn the page and find the ink has eaten into the next page, and the next. The damage is expansive, Dolly says, lifting her chin. But not limitless. Eventually, a page will turn. Eventually, the page beneath remains plain.'"

"I thought Dolly and the Puppet loved each other," you murmur, watching his finger slide up the back of the book.

He gives you a knowing smile. "They did."

"Not anymore?"

"I don't know. He's not the same anymore. He really is evil," Eddie says. "'The Puppet becomes a man of flesh and bone before her, nothing like she had remembered and yet the same. His voice, slick as oil, becomes a malfeasance of sound where before it had been her most treasured melody. And if the tome were sullied to begin with? The Puppet asks. If the darkness subsisted where I only lay my hand?"

"They speak in riddles," you complain.

Eddie shushes you. "'Don't act as though you didn't bring about this war, Dolly says, her voice harsh as tree bark. The Puppet draws ever closer, his wicked grin softened. A puppet once more. I did it for you, he says.'"

You gasp so loudly it makes your throat burn. "He did not!" you whisper-shout.

Eddie chuckles, hand dropping to your shoulder. "He didn't."

"Keep reading!"

"'Dolly refuses to acknowledge his pleading tenor. You did not, she shouts. You created this conflict to become what you wanted to become.

"'Someone you could love. The Puppet places a frozen hand over her cheek. She hits at his chest with the brunt of her palms, hands growing limp as he murmurs. Someone you could kiss.'"

You miss the rest of his reading, eyes slamming shut as if you'd been stuck. You catch small parts. An attempted reunion, a sword tipped in biting silver from the coldest recess of the moon. A short fight, a retreat.

"Are you sleeping?" Eddie whispers.

You swallow. "Almost," you whisper back.

Eddie tosses the paperback onto his desk and pulls the covers over your shoulders and curls toward you. "You should get some rest, sweetheart. It's been a long day."

You nod and turn to him, refusing to open your eyes. "Goodnight," you say, rubbing your cheek against the brushed cotton of his pillowcase.

"Goodnight."

Long minutes of silence. You can feel his warmth beside you like a heating pad under the sheets. You know his hand lies an inch away, if that, his fingers lax. You could stroke the length of his pinky with yours.

As if he knows, as if he can read your mind, a fingertip reaches out to tap yours. "Are you okay?" he asks.

You open one tired eye and lift your face enough to open the other. He looks beautiful. Hair half-dried and flat to his cheek. You reach out to push it from his face slowly. If you were any braver you'd tuck it behind his ear, scratch his scalp lightly with your nails.

"Is it your arm?" he asks.

You drop your hand. "'M just thinking."

"I can't help with that," he jokes, turning his gaze to the ceiling.

You laugh under your breath but even to yourself it sounds odd.

"Do you think you'd ever kiss me?" you utter eventually.

He doesn't answer for a while. Your heart races fast enough that it's all you can hear, like the wind rushing in your ears.

"Is that what you want?"

"I want my first kiss to be a good one."

"And you think it would be, with me?"

"You said to keep it for someone I actually like."

He takes your wrist into a kind hand. Calluses slide over your skin. "I meant someone you have the hots for, babe."

Dangerous territory. Wary to admit anything else, you try to take his rejection with grace. "It's okay if you don't want to. Was just… wondering," you murmur.

He strokes your wrist. "I'll kiss you if you want me to."

"No, I-" You laugh, all nerves and too much blood. "I don't want a pity kiss, Eddie."

"Who said anything about pity?" he says, voice quiet as yours had been and harbouring much less panic.

He pulls your arm like he's encouraging you toward him and you hiss. His grip slackens. "Sorry, I should've-"

"It aches, that's all," you say.

Understanding lightens his eyes. Honey melting into a woody brown. "Shit," he mutters, lowering his head. "I'm sorry." He presses his lips to your wrist in a small kiss. "If it's hurting you should've said."

The words come out hot.

"It…" you drift off as he gives you another kiss. Another.

Close-lipped, Eddie dots pecks down your arm until he reaches the crook of your elbow. He slows and stays. You take the initiative and drop your hand into his hair, stroking behind his ear like you wanted to, like you've wanted to for a while, and shiver as the tip of his nose ghosts against sensitive skin.

He draws away, pulls up, his face much closer than you can remember it ever having been before. You try to breathe normally but the look on his face prompts breathlessness, his eyes steady, bordering impassive. His lips hint a soft bemusement.

He raises his chin. "This okay?"

"This," you repeat, fingers curling into his hair.

Eddie moves in, bringing a hand to your face to guide you to one side. His lips bump into yours and you let your eyes close, overwhelmed by this new feeling. There's a tenderness to how he holds you still, worse when he pulls you in, his kiss hot and soft as water.

He slides his fingertips under your sleeve, palm hot to the breadth of your upper arm. His grip tightens incrementally and you try not to pull his hair in response, your knee hitting his thighs as your body seeks him out.

His lips part against yours and you both suck in a breath before he's kissing again. You try your best to follow his lead, though quickly find yourself a laughing mess as he wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you close.

"What's funny?" he asks.

You honestly don't know. It's a giddy feeling to be this close, more so when he smiles back and tries to start up another round of sweet kisses, his lips pressing to yours insistently. He caresses the length of your back until you sigh, your open mouth an invitation that he sinks into.

You scrunch the hem of his shirt in your hand when he sucks on your top lip, nonplussed.

Eddie pulls away. Your eyes open in tandem.

You're noticeably out of breath and he isn't unaffected, his chest rising and falling almost as quickly as yours. "So," he says, inhale a struggle though he tries to hide it, "how was that? A good one?"

"I don't know. I don't have anything to compare it to."

"No?" he asks, already leaning in for another.

You weave your hand into his hair and he rubs his hand down your arm until your aching wrist throbs under his fingertips, callused by metal strings and somehow impossibly soft.

"I'm sorry about your arm," he murmurs.

You hope your hum against his lips conveys your forgiveness.

When you've been kissed to the point of dizziness you break it to hide in the space under his chin, breathing in his new smells, his skin, his hair. The remnants of soap; a sharp citrus, mandora awash in something heady.

He pushes his arm under your chest and wraps you up. You hug him back, languid in his hold as he starts to rub your back. Broad, sweeping lines. Your shirt pulls up and he smooths it back down.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," you joke lightly, quickly chased by a big yawn.

"If you're tired, you can sleep," he assures you.

"It was a good kiss."

"Tell me all about it in the morning, okay? Sleep, pretty girl."

You're feeling more and more tired with each passing second. Fatigue hangs heavy and his wandering hands make it worse.

"'Nother kiss in the morning?" you ask, burrowing your face into his shoulder.

He takes a little while to answer, turning his lips down into your temple. "Y'always get what you want, don't you?"

With Eddie? Just about.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist

if you enjoyed, please think about reblogging! I promise its a big help ♡

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic

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milksockets · 8 months

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why scan?

scanning is something i've done for probably about 12 years now (i'm ancient, for this site), with varying degrees of regularity, intensity, etc. it has ratcheted up since the dawn of 2023, though, which begs the question: why? why put so much time into what could not-wrongly be considered a passive activity, hunched over a piece of clunky machinery with the express purpose of preserving others' creations? the answers are several, and fascinating (not really).

i am a [sober] drug addict. anything i pursue, consume, create--more often than not--ends up taking on addictive qualities. i'll eat the same specific food item for a month, then never want to see, let alone taste it, again. i'll listen to one song on repeat for days until i'd rather hear nails on a chalkboard than have it shuffle on and assault my ears. one of the reasons that my scanning has increased in volume recently is that i acquired library cards to the 3 nyc library systems: nypl, brooklyn, and queens. as soon as i was able to, i pillaged + plundered those fine centers of learning, leaving any given library with as many hefty scan-worthy books as i could [barely] carry. here, finally, was a *free* way of obtaining more + more + more visual media to consume.

2023 saw me get my first legal, full-time job. as such, my adjusting to that hellish reality resulted in a steep decline in my own personal creative output. collaging, writing, and rapping all fell to the wayside as i slowly acclimated to a life of work that almost everyone else my age has known for over a decade is generally unbearable + detrimental to the maintenance of outside pursuits. in times of famine within my own artistic harvest, scanning, archiving, and sharing others' work is a means of feeling as though i am still contributing to the global oeuvre.

there’s an element of losing my mental self in a series of physical motions that becomes almost automatic after some time. “zoning out” is not something endemic to my daily life; if anything, i’m almost always too zoned in. relief is necessary. especially considering the shitshow this past year has been in terms of my personal life.

i am a product of capitalism’s cultivating a craving for constant consumption.

it seems that visual content is only going to continue to get more + more uninspired. has everything been done? did social media ruin it all? in any case, i feel a need to document the past. to a degree, it’s my version of doomsday prepping. (god forbid books go extinct altogether.)

i have always gravitated towards solitary activities. this topic could be a thesis in its own right.

i thrive on external validation. this reliance is something i’ve improved upon over the past several years, but it hasn’t been altogether extinguished. even though the materials i scan are not of my own creation, i nevertheless feel a vague pride in showcasing them. occasional appreciation thereof satisfies this fixation on others’ attention, albeit in a diluted form.

i am fortunate to live in a city bursting to the gills with cultural institutions. i am also lucky enough to have some disposable income that can be directed toward fulfilling my ravenous desire for visual media.

((i keep getting messages about the specifics of my scanner + "process":

i have a cheap ass hp envy 6055e and i just use the software it comes with.

there's nothing special or fancy happening here, and i could definitely invest in a better and/or a large format scanner, etc. but i really just don't care enough and it's not like i'm getting paid for this lmao))

#words #working girl #me

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markrosewater · 10 days

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Elegance

Here’s my original article for Elegance.

This is a topic I’ve wanted to write about for a long time. Ironically, the words needed to explain the concept kept the column from being elegant. So I did what all artists do. I found a way to say a lot in a little space.

Enjoy,

Mark Rosewater

[NOTE: EACH OF THE ABOVE FIFTY WORDS IS HYPERLINKED. BELOW IS THE FIFTY HYPER LINKS. THE HEADERS SHOULDN’T BE ON THE LINKED PAGE. I’M JUST INCLUDING THEM SO YOU KNOW WHAT EACH LINK IS.]

ELEGANCE

Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary has five definitions for elegance:

• refined grace or dignified propriety

• tasteful richness of design or ornamentation

• dignified, gracefulness or restrained beauty of style

• scientific precision, neatness and simplicity

• something that is elegant

The common elements appear to be dignity, simplicity, and taste.

THIS

Elegance requires thinking, but it also requires feeling. Elegant prose is judged by how it makes the reader feel. It needs to generate a sense of calm that puts the reader at ease. Everything in your writing should feel as if it was carefully positioned to create the proper effect.

Pound for pound, the writer’s greatest writing tool is the verb. Nouns add substance and adjectives add flourish, but it’s the verb that drives the sentence. Choose a strong, descriptive verb and the sentence has flair and purpose. Choose a weak one and the sentence lacks any sense of drama.

Here’s a little game to test an elegance relevant skill (based on an old game called Inklings). Randomly choose a noun. Try to convey that noun to the other players using the least number of letters possible. You’ll be surprised how much you can communicate in just a few letters.

TOPIC

One of the greatest stumbling blocks to elegance is the inability to choose a single focus. Elegance requires simplicity. Simplicity requires a single purpose of thought. This means that elegance starts before you write a single word. A good sculptor must know his image before he picks up his chisel.

I’VE

One of the common misconceptions of elegance is that it requires a writer to be fancy. Elegance though is more about familiarity than formality. You shouldn’t be afraid of friendlier language such as slang or contractions, assuming that such language adds an element of ease rather than one of laziness.

WANTED

An important element of elegance is a sense of passion. Brevity does not mean pulling away emotionally from words, but rather the opposite. When you find yourself limited to fewer words, you must pack each individual word with extra emotional punch. You are not reducing your message, simply your messenger.

A good tool in understanding elegance is studying poetry. Poetry is the most concise of all written art forms. It strives to maximize impact while minimizing expression. Each word carries the burden of evoking some essence of the poet’s message. If it cannot carry its own weight, it is excised.

WRITE

To be an elegant writer, you have to become a student of prose. You have to study the mechanics of language to understand how it can be shaped. Once you have learned how to transfer the feeling in your head into meaningful words, you are on the path to elegance.

ABOUT

Be careful not to fall in love with ambiguity. While intoxicating in its beauty, it is the enemy of elegance. Remember, the goal is not to make the reader struggle for comprehension. Rather it is to lead them to the obvious conclusion. Elegance should be used to illuminate, not confuse.

FOR

Elegant prose requires connecting with your reader. To do this, you have to understand who that reader is. Nothing should come before this task. It needs to be done before writing can begin. I like to compare this to planning a trip. Maps are useless until you know your destination.

Another major key to elegance is the understanding of the importance of the tiniest detail. Just as a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, a piece of prose is only as tight as its messiest detail. A good writer doesn’t stop at the nouns, verbs and adjectives.

LONG

Don’t confuse elegance with brevity. Elegant things are short not because they have to be but because the difficulty to craft an elegant piece of prose combined with the limitations of time forces writers to be brief. Elegant novels, for example, do exist, but they are few and far between.

TIME

To quote Roman orator (and letter writer) Marcus T. Cicero, “If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”

Simplicity takes more time not less. Anyone can get a point across with ten thousand words. But a true artist can do it in ten (or possibly fifty).

IRONICALLY

Irony is a potent tool for commentary. Its genius lies in the fact that it comments not on what is, but rather on what isn’t. Like all good humor, irony makes you laugh. But like the best type of humor, it also makes you think. It’s both funny and funny.

THE

Elegance in writing is about more than words. Equally important is how the words are woven together. Tempo, pacing, rhythm – these are the tools that set the mood for the piece. Try reading aloud your text. The natural beat of language is more suited for the ear than the eye.

WORDS

To realize the power of words, you must first understand how they work. Art is expressive; words are connotative. That is, words draw their power from their ability to extract different ideas from different people. A circle is a circle, but the concept of “scary” varies from person to person.

NEEDED

Elegance is not the result of any one attribute. It is the combination of numerous factors coming together in harmony. This is why it’s such a hard skill to master. Most people can pat their head or rub their tummy. But put them together and it’s not quite so easy.

An elegant piece of prose needs to hit the reader at a gut level. Often they won’t know exactly why they like it, but they will recognize that something about the piece moves them. There are many types of writing where subtlety is lost. Elegant writing isn’t one of them.

EXPLAIN

There are many ways for you to explain an idea. The most elegant one though is not through definition but by example. By connecting your idea to one already known by the reader, you’re leaving the work of teaching to someone in the past. Education is hard. Comparison is easy.

THE

If writing is like building a house, the structure is like the foundation. Its design will dictate how the house is built. If it’s faulty, no amount of fancy brickwork will undo the damage. So take the time to ensure your structure is building the kind of prose you want.

CONCEPT

Never underestimate the power of a concept. An important part of elegance is condensing big ideas into little words. This is far from an easy task. It often takes a genius an entire lifetime to create a truly innovative concept. So take advantage of all their hard work and inspiration.

KEPT

A common barrier to elegance is the belief that only one way will work. Often a writer is unable to abandon a beloved piece of prose even when evidence demonstrates otherwise. If something doesn’t add to the larger sense of the piece, you have to learn to let it go.

THE

Readers notice things at a minute level far beyond their mind’s ability to interpret. This means that although they may not consciously notice many of your tiny details, they will do so unconsciously. Aesthetics teach us that it’s this unconscious structure that will determine whether or not it feels “right”.

COLUMN

All communicators, whether through speaking or print, need to find a voice. A voice provides familiarity and it teaches the listener or reader how to more quickly absorb the information. Elegance is all about the conservation of ideas. Having a pre-learned voice to guide you is a very valuable tool.

FROM

I’ve spent some time talking about understanding your reader. But there is one more person who is even more important to understand – yourself. Writing is about sharing your ideas with others. If you haven’t spent the time to figure out what you think, how can you possibly communicate it?

BEING

“A picture is worth a thousand words.”

Or so the saying goes. What the cliché forgets to mention is how many words a single word is worth. For example, take the word “being”. To capture the essence of what “being” represents is tens of thousands of words if not more.

ELEGANT

What is the value of being elegant? Why should you care? Elegance adds aesthetics. It evokes poetry. It grants beauty. Elegant prose draws the reader closer because it gives them something to not just learn but to admire. Good prose stimulates the head, but elegant prose resonates in the heart.

Who, what, where, when, how - all important questions. But for a writer they pale next to why. If you don’t understand the reasoning beneath the surface, the other details are irrelevant. The act of elegance is cementing the why. It’s taking the purpose and engraining it into the piece.

Elegance is a very personal thing. If something doesn’t resonate with you, there’s no way for it to resonate with your reader. Writing is an art, not a science. There is no rulebook for how things must be done. If your instincts are telling you that something isn’t working, listen.

DID

An important tool in your toolbox is time. Elegance cannot be rushed. Mental ruts only get deeper the harder you focus on them. Make sure to work time into your schedule so you are able to walk away from your writing. An hour next week is worth a day today.

WHAT

Don’t let attention to detail pull you away from having a larger sense of what you’re writing. Take this column as an example. While I spent a lot of time fine tuning each entry I never lost sight of the effect they created when all the entries were put together.

ALL

Elegance requires taking a holistic view of writing. Every word, every sentence, every paragraph is a piece in a larger puzzle. It’s not enough to understand the impact of a single element. You must understand how any two elements interact if you want to understand the potency of your text.

ARTISTS

Elegance and art are very intertwined. Both seek to achieve a similar goal: to illuminate and inspire with a conservation of expression. If you’re trying to be elegant, I think it helps to think of yourself as an artist. The instinct for the latter mirrors the needs of the former.

An important part of any writing is understanding the feeling you’re trying to evoke. And then realizing what mechanic tools you have available to evoke that feeling. Diction, verb tense, sentence length, alliteration, word flow, phonetic juxtaposition – each of these will control the mood and tone of your piece.

A writer’s life is the ultimate fodder. Don’t be ashamed to plumb your own experiences. You understand them deeper and more personally than anyone else. No painter would refuse to use his finest paints. And, as a bonus, by using your own experiences, you will become better educated about yourself.

FOUND

Don’t forget that the act of revealing is also an act of exploration. Don’t be afraid if you learn more than the reader you’re trying to educate. Writing is not an exact science. (Or even an exact art.) Often you will find that the road to salvation has a fork.

Your future is paved with your past. If you want to learn how to grow as a writer, you need to look back at what you’ve written. With time and a detached eye, your will find your mistakes become clearer. Remember that it’s failure, not success, that bests drives education.

WAY

The problem with looking for a single solution is that you’ll never find more than one. And the first one isn’t always the best. But if you’re open to the possibility that every problem has an infinite number of answers, you’ll have the freedom of choosing the solution you want.

Sentences are filled with freeloaders. Because writers seem to love overwriting. (I include myself in this camp.) Make sure to create time for the editor side of you to prune unnecessary words. If a word can be excised without any harm to the sentence, it has no right being there.

SAY

I’m spending my time today talking about elegance in prose, but most of what I’m saying is applicable in speech. The key difference is that prose has less defining attributes like appearance or tone. The key to elegant speech is making people focus on the words rather than everything else.

It’s ironic that something designed to be so simple can be so complex. But that, my faithful readers, is the joy (and mystery) of elegance. Like an onion, elegance has numerous layers that reveal themselves as you slowly peel them away. Oh yeah, and it can sometimes make you cry.

LOT

An interesting exercise is to look at each word you’re using and think about how much content is loaded in that word. Then explore what other words exist that fulfill the same role but with added content. Once you’ve found the word you can’t best, move onto the next word.

A good way to get better at understanding elegance is to look for it in every day life. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised where and how often you find it. Study each example carefully and try to see if you can put your finger on what makes it work.

Writing is a shared endeavor. No one owns the words. If someone uses a technique that works, there’s no shame in borrowing it. Like science, writing creates technology that’s brought back to the group to spur further advancements. Elegance is hard enough to accomplish without refusing to use the toolbox.

LITTLE

How big should a piece of text be if you want it to be elegant? The answer is as big as it needs to be – and not a word more. Just think of it as playing the game Jenga. Keep pulling words out of your prose until it collapses.

SPACE

One of the most important lessons in art is learning the value of negative space, the idea that the eyes are equally drawn to what isn’t there. Prose has a very similar quality. When writing pay careful attention to what you aren’t saying. Often it will speak the loudest volume.

ENJOY

For some reason people tend to equate dignity with seriousness. And as such they come to the false conclusion that elegance has no room for humor. Ironic as humor is one of the most elegant of styles. A good joke is no longer than is necessary to do its job.

MARK

As is always true when I head off the beaten path, I am curious to hear your feedback. What did you think of this article? Was it entertaining? Was it educational? Did you actually read all fifty links? And if not, why not?

Tell me. Inquiring mind wants to know.

ROSEWATER

I couldn’t end this week’s column without my trademark closing. I mean, how inelegant would that be?

Join me next week when I go from being a letter man to a Letterman.

Until then, may you learn to appreciate now just the “what” but the “how” and “why”.

Mark Rosewater

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bluecollarmcandtf · 2 months

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Cash Slave, reporting in...

Good morning, master. State Trooper Hernandez reporting!

I hope you're doing well since the last time we saw each other. Again, I can't apologize enough for pulling you over on the highway. I had no idea you were such an amazing hypnotist. Thank you again for letting me get off easy and only making me taze myself twice! I was paralyzed in that muddy ditch for awhile, but you could've given me a helluva worse punishment!

Your instructions aren't negotiable, so I made sure to snap a photo before I started my shift today. As you suggested, I've been eating a box of donuts every morning, and I've packed on a hefty 30 lbs since I've started. My wife has complained, but I know you want me to look more like a cliche of law enforcement!

I'll stop by your house to drop off my paycheck tonight after work. I won't forget to pick up some pizza for you and your friends on the way: extra sausage, just like you said!

See you tonight, master!

Hello sir.

It's been a week since you came into my shop, and I've followed everything you said. I didn't agree with it at first, but you convinced me with that little pendant.

You were right! I really am beneath powerful men like you. Filthy blue-collar workers aren't worthy to lick the dirt off your shoes. You were right to point that out, and you were right to tell me to embrace it. When the world looks at me, they shouldn't see a man. They should see a grease monkey at the bottom of society.

That's why I haven't showered or changed in seven days. My BO is uncomfortable to work in, but I know it's just a reminder of what I am. I used to be proud of my job. Ha! I used to look down on suits like you, but I'm nothing in comparison; just a tool at your disposal.

Anyways, I cleaned and waxed your old car as fast as I could. I know I lent you my convertible, but you're welcome to keep it. I put a lot of sweat and blood in fixing her up, but like you said, fancy cars are meant for you to drive and me to maintain.

Stop back in my garage anytime. White-collar men like you get free service here! It's not the place of any lowly laborer to get in the way of what you want.

Thank you again, sir.

Hello boss.

Just started another long day of window washing! It's another hot one, but I'll keep my head down and sweat through it like usual.

I've gotta say, it's days like this that make me miss the comforts of my old corporate desk job. I'd kill for some AC right now, but I remember how much you made me realize I hated that career. Like you said, I'm much better suited to a life of mindless cleaning.

It turns out you're the real one with a knack for business strategy because all of your advice has been genius! The income is dependent on the hours I put in, and since I'm working for half the price of all competitors, I've gotten a monopoly on the market! I've fully booked all seven days for the next five or so weeks, so I'll be washing windows non-stop!

The business is already booming! I've been billing customers to your bank account, so you should already see all the profit in there!

Later today, I'll make a note of the minimum I need to replenish the cleaning supplies I'm running through. I'd also be grateful if you loaned me a bit for personal use, but it's understandable if you can't spare any! We agreed that I wasn't working for a salary, and I'm fine with that! I've been sleeping in the company van the last few weeks and it's more than good enough for me!

Don't worry, boss. I'll get back to work!

Tell my wife hello for me, master!

Working on a rig has been isolating. The job is brutal, the days are long, and every night I head back to our bunks covered in oil. I thought I'd at least get to bond with the other guys, but most of us are too tired to do anything but eat and sleep after our shift.

The only thing that's getting me through it is thinking about you. I know I also have a girl at home, but you were the one that gave my life purpose. I was never going to make money as an actor, and you helped me see that! You were the one that convinced me to go for this ridiculous job in the middle of the ocean, and now I'm making a ton of money!

You deserve it all.

I wouldn't have seen any of this cash if I hadn't stuck around after your stage hypnosis show. I still remember the wild look in your eyes when you came up with this idea for me. I also remember that hungry look you had when you saw my wife. It was impossible to say no.

Oh, and thanks for keeping my wife company while I'm gone. A man like you deserves her attention more than I do. Like you said, I doubt I was pleasing her to begin with. The only thing I'm good for is earning money, and I hope you're enjoying it because it sure isn't easy to earn!

I gotta get back, but I wanted to let you know that I signed up for another six months like you suggested. It's lonely, but I'm happy to do it, master!

Son, or should I still call you 'sir'?

I'm not sure if I your new title applies through text as well? Being your dad and your servant can be a bit confusing, but I don't mean disrespect you! Just let me know.

My workout is done and I'm headed back to your house. I signed the deed over to you this morning, so you officially own it now! Like usual, I'll clean the place from top to bottom. I've got all the mops and cleaning supplies in my van and ready to go. Since it's Friday, I'll start on the weekly yard work; mowing, weeding, etc... I don't want to bore you with the details, but it'll take the majority of the day to keep your place in tip top shape!

As I understand it, you are having friends over tonight, so I'll prepare a three course meal for eight. I ironed my apron this morning so I should look like a more presentable waiter than last night when I served your food!

As always, please let me know if there's any other way I can be of service today or tonight.

I'll be awaiting your return, sir.

Hey little bro,

I just finished my workout at the gym with dad. We're both hitting PRs and we're really starting to see some results! Still can't believe you hypnotized his dumb ass to think he's your butler! That man looks so stupid changing from gym clothes into a bowtie and gloves. He's constantly calling you 'sir' too, even when you're not around.

He's such an idiot.

Anyways, I'm all dressed and ready for my new job. You were totally right. I'm going to be so much happier as a clown instead of a wrestler. I'm about to head out to my first gig; a ten year old's birthday party. I think he's the kid of someone I used to compete with. It might be a little awkward, but it won't affect my routine. I've got an afternoon of pies in the face and self-deprecating humor ahead of me.

I made sure to tell the guy who hired me that I'm willing to stay after and clean up. Kids make a huge mess after all. I just hope he won't be too weird about me being a clown at his son's party. We may have been rivals in the past, but that was back when I wrestled. Now I'm just a joke for hire. He's technically my boss for the day, so I'll have to get used to taking orders from him.

Wish me luck, bro. I'll give you the money after the dad dismisses me. Let's hope I make a good clown!

#mind control #gay hypnosis #hypno story #gay ai art #hypnotized #servant

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cursedcola · 1 year

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Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle (Here!), Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe

Azul Ashengrotto

Fortune. Azul is one fortunate soul. At least, not he thinks himself to be.

and to think that it's because of sheer luck. He did not work for you. He did not climb or claw or plan for you. He did nothing.

No, you chose him. You saw him at his lowest and decided that he was worth becoming friends with. You actively sought him out...just to spend time at his side. Regularly. You enjoyed Azul's company

and over time, he grew to enjoy yours. Immensely. Like a giddy school-girl, his heart fluttered at the thought of you and all his notebooks were covered in doodle hearts.

This was it for him. Azul is a one and done kind of man. It’s you or it’s no one. Which means that it obviously is going to be you because hello??? Azul is not a quitter.

During your younger years as students….he may have been a bit too ambitious. In other words, Azul has proposed many times

And in turn has been rejected. Many. Times.

It began passively. He’d mention here and there his future plans for after schooling. Try to talk himself up, yeah? He’s going to be a big business man, isn’t that just perfect husband material? He can take care of you easily so there’s no need to stress.

Naturally you pushed off these moments as daydreaming and casual joking. Nothing serious. So he ups his game. It just so happens that he mistakenly got a bridal magazine in the mail…oh, look at these dresses and suits! So fancy. So beautiful…oh, you would look absolutely darling in one.

….oh sweet merciful seven please take the HINT. He is LITERALLY throwing himself at you

He ups his game. Again. A romantic candle lit dinner for two. The works. Jazz music, slow dancing, good company, and the casual proposal y’know just your average date.

You have to be doing it on purpose

In your defense. He did not flat out say “will you marry me,” because he chickened out. Instead he asked if you’d like to live with him after graduation as…roommates.

The world is out to get this poor man. It is. It truly just wants him to crash and burn in embarrassment. The way you laughed and went “I think we’re a bit more than that, don’t you think?” HAUNTS him

He screamed into his pillow that night. For hours. Floyd still gives him shit for it

Life continues this way. For reasons unknown…he just couldn’t bring himself to be direct. Which is so unlike Azul considering he spent years toughening himself up.

Maybe deep down he did fear that things wouldn’t work out. A merman and a human…what if you did not want to lige in the sea? What if his body could not sustain human form for long term? Maybe he wanted you to take initiative and prove him wrong. Eventually he did give up.

At least until you both aged into the “roommates”he dreamed about. There were trials and compromise. He never thought to have two homes, one by the ocean and one literally inside of it. Life was perfect….just without the title. And on one random night, Azul thinks “One more time,”. No elaborate ruse. No trickery to get you to ask him. Just….

“Will you marry me?,” Azul whispered into your shoulder. You both lay together in your shared bedroom with nothing but the sound of crashing waves coming in from the outside. Your steady breathing halts, proving that you heard him. With a sigh, he reaches to massage your scalp, “I do not know if you have realized by now…no, I am sure of it. No one is that dense. I won’t pry for why you have ignored my past attempts…all I ask is that you answer this. Will you marry me, (Y/N)? Having you at my side has truly made me the most fortunate man alive,”

{ A black pearl over a gold band. One of the most ultimate displays of wealth. Azul is well aware that this is not the traditional pathway. He could have easily acquired a ‘genuine’ Pearl, perhaps a diamond - but no. You are a rarity. A true jewel. Only a ring worthy to reflect that is worth buying. You were the most unexpected thing and are now the most cherished. This ring represents that,}

Jade Leech

The want caught him by surprise one day, which is rare. Jade is never thrown off guard. At least, not easily.

Then again, you have always been the most difficult person for him to predict. Something he finds very charming since there is always an upbeat atmosphere wherever you go. If his days were a dimming flame, you would be just the right amount of Co2 to spark some fun - not that he would easily admit to it.

Albeit so, Jade is not blind to his emotions. He hides them well underneath a polite smile - but they are there. He is aware of them.

Which is why he snatched you up early on. A relationship was the last thing he thought to find on the surface (or in general, honestly), but Jade knows what he wants when he sees it.

He merely asks you on a date with confidence. You accept, and the process repeats until an unspoken bond formed between the two of you. Not a soul in the nearby vicinity would dare make a move on you with his lingering presence. Jade was pacified, entertained, and happily content with your circumstance.

A circumstance that Jade gets maybe a bit too comfortable with. Just like surprise, it takes a lot for Jade for feel secure. The only person he has truly felt that with is his brother. This lack of overbearing responsibility, where something is being unspoken. No ulterior motive or underlying tone in your actions that make him have to over-analyze.

In the beginning he thought of your bluntness as an extra entertainment factor. Something that he could count on to make those brief unpredictable situations amusing. Yet, as time passed he notices that it's comforting. When he's with you, Jade turns his brain off. Not entirely, of course. He still needs to throw in witty quips and fluster you at LEAST twice per day.

but it's different. It's a different comfort than what he feels with his sibling or with his friend. It's new, and strangely similar to how he feels when he forages while hiking. Perhaps finding peace in another person...maybe there is merit. Hah. Yet another surprise.

On an evening long past curfew, Jade was tending to his botany collection and miniature greenhouse. You sat on his bed, watching videos on your phone. It was almost like you weren't there with him, yet not since he felt your presence. However, there was no pressure to talk or be attentive. He found himself enjoying your presence alone, and it slipped.

"If this is how our days will be when we live together, then perhaps sharing one life is not as inconceivable as I once thought," he said amidst trimming one of his herb plants. Jade turns curiously when he hears a thump from behind, and sees you gawking at him. You had lost your grip on the cell phone, and it fell to the ground.

He eyes you suspiciously. What's startled you? He doubts that any video could render you speechless.

....he spoke aloud, yes? Not in his head. Now it's Jade's turn to lose his composure.

Another surprise, but this is his own doing. Jade has not had a slip of the tongue since his childhood. Even then it was rare. He's never experienced this kind of mess-up...yet, you don't appear appalled.

Jade places the clippers down, and coughs into his gloved hand, "well, it appears I have gotten a loose tongue. It must be from your influence, no doubt". He stands, and moves to sit next to you on his bed, "I've never spoken out of place before, you know. Do you know what this means? I've become weak...and perhaps it it is time you take responsibility for these newfound emotions. I fully intend for many moments like these to happen, and for you to not leave my side. When it is time to leave this place, I believe you will join me. No, I am certain of it"

{An eye of lapis. A reminder that he is always watching - waiting, to see you again. The gem is not see-through. It’s a tough stone. Yet it is beautiful and is appreciated nonetheless. Enough said}

Floyd leech

At first, you believed him to have an obsession. Many did, actually.

The judgement isn't uncalled for either. Floyd's emotions towards you are very strong. With the way he loves to tease and follow you around - he's got a deep attachment. He's always demanding your attention, pulling you from your duties, starting trouble, and nosy. Floyd is oh so nosy and into everything in your life.

You're a toy. His little Shrimpy. The plaything that he absolutely adores and loves to watch. You're the Friday night sitcom to his late-90s grandma.

That's how you see it because that's how he portrays it. With others in agreeance, it is easy to overlook the small undertones in his actions. Especially since he's a touchy and emotional person normally.

Somehow, Floyd had himself tricked as well. He didn't akin his emotions to obsession, but he did think that you were a toy that he would

eventually out-grow. At the start, it really was just a game for him. He liked your reactions and therefore decided to keep you around.

Yet, he never got bored. Eventually the fun events around you stopped being what he found interesting, and instead he liked you alone. Floyd being Floyd instantly tried to confess this, not wanting to waste another minute. Yet you never believed him.

He brushed it off. You'd come around. Not a day went by without him by your side. To the average onlooker (and you, to Floyd's dismay) this still appeared normal. Weeks past by like nothing.

Only the people closest to Floyd see the small giveaways. Like how he glares holes into the mirror portal every morning, or gets snappy with customers if you take too long to visit the Monstro Lounge at night. There's a booth saved, every evening with no student brave enough to go near it unless they want their head chopped off.

When he gives you a 'squeeze,' he never wraps his arms around your stomach. He instead smothers your head and goes tightly around the shoulders. Your squeezes are special. He loves them.

or the name 'Shrimpy'. How he says it to you in public, but in private he occasionally lets your real name slip out. This normally happens during moments when he feels "bored,"(i.e has nothing to talk about) or lighthearted (the rare moments when you get him to relax). Floyd has never said that name with anything other than a positive emotion, despite his mood swings. Shrimpy is his calling card for you, and only his. Yet your name is different. He feels a tummy-twisting kind of weird when he says it.

but the biggest change is Floyd's attitude towards danger when it comes to you. Before, he thrived on it. He liked to hear your stories and be part of the fun. He took joy from the scary adventures you got wrapped into; heck, he was one of them.

Now he gets morbid. Not like how he was before, with eerie threats and a suspenseful aura. He never actually acted unless told to do so, since the over-blots and delinquent students were your problem, not his.

One afternoon, you didn't show up to have lunch with him. That already made him irritable since you know better than to no-show. Did you want a squeeze? Huh, Shrimpy? He'll give you one later.

Then two students come in, all snickering and acting suspicious. Strike two. Now Floyd is upset AND annoyed. Others in the area can feel the animosity in the air.

"Did you see their face? Psh. That'll teach some snot-nosed no-mag to act all mighty. If they know what's good for them, they'll go back to whatever sh*t-hole they came from alrea-" The no-face couldn't finish his sentence. Not with one of the infamous Leech twins gripping his arm tight enough to snap bone.

Floyd smiled, "oh~ So you're the reason my little shrimp isn't eating lunch with me, aren't ya? So. What'd ya do? C'mon guys, I want to know what 'lesson' ya taught, " as Floyd spoke, his grip gradually tightened and he stared straight into the other student's eyes. Each word came out harsher than the last.

They broke quick, as he suspected. With a rough shove Floyd pushed them aside to find you. He had their faces memorized. Let them live in fear for a bit until he collects due payment. For now?

Floyd finds you at your home. He doesn't bother to knock and bursts through the front door, only to see you nursing a black eye on the couch with some ice. He wastes no time in taking it and kneeling in front of you.

Floyd holds the ice to your eye - a bit too harsh- and clenches his jaw when you wince. You won't meet his eyes and it only pisses him off more, "Oi. Look at me," and you do with your one eye. "Why didn't you call me. Why'd you not show up," You sigh and reach a hand to cover his, "because I knew you'd be pissed... I handled it, okay? No need to fake the whole 'I will protect you, my little Shrimpy' scenario. We both know that's not your thing, "

You're wrong. It's not a scenario. You can dismiss his flirting all you want, but even Floyd has a limit. Do you not see how absolutely wreaked overhearing those airheads made him? He's going to do worse than you can think. He won't kill them. No, he'll make sure that no one messes with you anymore. You can't see it, but on the inside he is over it. Done. Finished. Officially has 0% patience.

"Did you know that every time you spout crap like that, it pisses me off? I don't 'act,' because that's boring. I'm not lyin' when I say I like you, and you better start believin' it because I'm over the niceties. If someone messes with you, they mess with me. You're in deep (Y/N) and I'm not letting go, so wait here while I handle some little pests. I love ya. I act this way BECAUSE I love ya. Quit denying me already,"

No one will ever mess with you again. Not with the sparkly little gem on your ring finger, tying you to one of the largest and most threatening groups in the undersea world to date.

{ An aquamarine tear. In all honesty, Floyd did not put much thought into his gem. It sparkled. It is the color of his hair streak (or close to it). He imagined it on your finger and thought that it would stand out - ensuring that anyone and everyone could see it. He thought of your possible expression upon seeing it, and was sold}

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juuuulez · 2 months

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📋 | carmen berzatto nsfw alphabet.

don’t ask what possessed me today. it was definitely all the weed.

soo much nsfw under the cut….this is just paragraphs of porn.

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act):

whatever ur carmy kink headcanons are i think we all agree that he’s really sweet afterwards :( he might suddenly get nervous or anxious and overthink everything you’ve done (“are you sure you’re alright?” “i know, i know, baby ‘m just.. i wanna take care of you, yeah?”) and you’ll have to assure him it’s okay! you loved it, he was perfect, he didn’t hurt you. he just wants some reassurance and then he’ll be finding you some water, a snack, whatever you need! (“just crackers? ‘cus i’ve got this new recipe, it’s a soup, i can make it—“ “nobody wants soup after sex, carm.”)

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers):

carmy doesn’t like many things about himself, initially.. until you’re quick to vocalise exactly how amazing he is. immediately, carmy is enamoured with just what he can do with his hands. his palm covering the entirety of your neck when you kiss, or how his fingers looked splayed over your hip. and fuck, his fingers! they’re really thick, and carmen secretly gets off on the fact that your fingers are so much smaller, so even alone, you’ll never be able to finger yourself as good, never be able to reach those spots that carmy touched with ease.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it):

let’s be so honest carmen berzatto marking kink is so real. it starts out as a practicality, pulling out to spill over your thighs, sticky white liquid that clung to your curves, and carmy found himself growing more aroused the longer he stared at it. now, even if you’re on the pill, carmy will pull out for the sole purpose of pumping his cum wherever he can, a physical reminder of what’s his, because despite all his flaws, you belong to him.

however, assuming carmy can hold back cumming well enough for this is bold, so it usually ends in covering your already sticky cunt and lower stomach in it.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory):

he jerked off with your panties once. it was near the start of your relationship, and carmen was so busy with the re-brand, he barely got to see you. so, one of the rare days he was over, he’d done some laundry for the both of you. and found some pink lace panties. and kept them. and, those nights he’d come home late and exhausted and slightly miserable, unable to call you for you were at home fast asleep, carmen.. used them to jerk off! sue him! he felt so guilty about it (poor baby) and admitted to it after a couple months of dating. he seemed so ashamed that you couldn’t help but go easy on the punishment… tying him to the bed and getting him off by only grinding over his swollen cock, wearing those same pink lace panties.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing):

of course he doesn’t. not properly, at least. carmy’s never had girlfriends, and maybe had a hook-up or two at fancy chef events in New York or Paris or wherever. nothing that mattered, at least. so this time, he’s careful and attentive. asking questions like he’s studying for a test, watching every single movement, every reaction. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking notes.

F= Favorite position:

ooof carmen definitely wants to see your face. he likes holding it in his big palms, whispering sweet words over your lips and swallowing your moans (“c’mon sweetheart, you can do it.. just one more for me, huh? fuck— your cunt fuckin’ wants it yeah? that’s it..”). probably missionary mostly, maybe he fucks you from behind one early-morning, his forehead pressed to your neck while the sun seeps in through the blinds.

G= Goofy (how serious are they):

not exactly serious, but he definitely gets into the zone. for him, sex isn’t casual, and it’s a time that means a lot to him. he’s choosing to be vulnerable for someone, and in turn, feels special that he’s allowed to see you like this. carmen can loose himself in the moment, his mind going uncharacteristically blank, too focused on the pure sensation and emotion connected with it. despite this, carmy can always be found gently tapping your cheek, pushing through the haze to ask “you with me, baby? feel good?”, because his pleasure only comes when you’re still into it.

H= Hair (grooming habits):

carmen doesn’t particularly allocate time to grooming down there, it’s not really a priority, unless his partner explicitly made it clear to him that was of interest. however, i don’t think carmy has the thickest of hair, just dark little curls in all the normal places. idk guys just thinking about shirtless lip…..he’s a pretty smooth guy.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty):

definitely depends. i wanna say a mix of both? when you’re into it carmen is so lovely, making sure to express how much he loves you, how much you mean to him. but private time doesn’t come around very often, so it’s usually instigated with a needy carmen coming home, exhausted from a long shift, his hands gripping at your waist before the words come out. his actions aren’t demanding at all, still gentle, but hurried and desperate to get inside your cunt.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often):

carmy is so a shower jerk person. i know guys i just know. he doesn’t like making a mess anywhere else, because it’s just an inconvenience, and cleaning the sheets or another shirt is just another useless task he doesn’t have time for. it’s rare he begins with the intention of jerking off, either. the hot shower melts away a day of tension, and carmen finds himself finally relaxing, finally tuning into his body, only to realise how much he needs this.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual):

we’ve already established the marking kink… and now listen 😝 i am a sub carmy truther guys! i can’t help it he’s so baby i need him to cry for me ;( but carmy definitely likes being bossed around, being told what to do, when he gets to cum.. it’s a change from being in control of literally everything, which most of the time carmen feels all he does falls apart, so he enjoys not having to think (which usually means second-guess and reconsider and debate and obsess).

L= Location (where they like to get it on):

every single carmen office quickie fic is SO SO SO SO SO SEXY they always have me foaming and barking like a rabid animal….however i’m gonna have to say his or your bed! he likes the idea of you being comfortable..bonus points for you guys probably fucking more often on the couch, since needy carmen can’t wait long enough to split you open :(

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons):

there are a variety of ways to get carmen in the mood, but his #1 is a confident partner who takes what they want. imagine carmy obsessing over the new menu, spending endless hours in the living room, papers and recipes and notes scattered over the table. you’ve barely gotten any attention all night, not necessarily in a needy way, just that this was supposed to be your night off together. the solution is actually quite easy: climbing onto the table, obscuring carmen’s vision of his work. before a protest can leave his lips, brows furrowed in confusion and slight distress, your hands are firmly pressing down on his shoulders. “you’re gonna eat me out, yeah? like you promised?” and he is DOWN on his knees, mind fucking short-circuiting, because suddenly there is nothing he’d rather do.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do):

carmen really doesn’t like seriously hurting you, so no intense spanking or choking. however i really love choking 🙄🙄 so i think he’d wrap his hand around your neck, his finger rubbing the hinge of your jaw, his warm palm a gentle assurance of the power he has without fully exercising it.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are):

pussy eating champ…carmen genuinely gets off on being able to make you feel good. his strong arms bracketing your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, holding you to his mouth while his tongue fucks deep. carmy can’t help but rut against the mattress, hips hastily thrusting in tune to your moans, the swollen head of his dick rubbing against the sheets. “please, baby, please.. c’mon, just a little longer, please— i need it so fuckin’ bad.” he’ll cry into your cunt after your first orgasm, needing to eat your sopping pussy in order to cum.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed):

soft, grinding rolls of his hips against yours, holding your cunt against the base of his cock, letting your clit rub against his skin. carmen takes it slow, making sure to hit the spongy place right up inside you, the one that makes you cry and squirm.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard):

carmen prefers to take his time with it, but more often you find yourself hurriedly making love on the couch, bench, shower, maybe even his car. clothes scattered around the room, a bra on the chair, carmen’s boxers under the coffee table. he’ll take you wherever he can, whenever the time finally allows it, and he makes it deep and fast.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things):

anything you want, he’ll hear you out. carmen loves to learn, he wants to know everything that makes you tick, and will willingly absorb anything you have to teach. that’s not to say he isn’t nervous, as he finds himself always double-checking you’re still alright, asking if it still feels good.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts):

definitely a multiple rounds kinda guy. he can’t help it! the sight of you laying there, stripes of cum over your stomach and shiny slick on your thighs, carmen finds himself hard all over again. expect a round two, maybe three from him, and even then he’ll probably eat you out again.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers):

carmen doesn’t see the use for sex toys, since he’d much prefer to be the one providing you pleasure. definitely not fully opposed, though, he’ll fuck you long and slow with a vibrator on nights where he just wants to watch and study you.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves):

i 🩷 edging so carmen 🩷’s edging! carmy puts on this needy desperate front (“please, fuck, i need’a cum, ‘m not kidding.”) but there is NOTHING alike to carmy’s mind going completely blank after denying his third orgasm in a row, his cock swollen and throbbing with each pass of your hand, only for you to finally give him permission (“cum for me, carmy, i’ve got you.”)

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk):

think about the lowest, guttural moans you’ve ever heard. as carmen gets closer, they taper off into higher whines, soft whispers into your skin about how much he wants this.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort):

now, carmen does not take disrespect in the kitchen, and clearly doesn’t tolerate people talking back. but you? there’s a certain fire in his stomach, when you glare at him over the pass, or don’t back up whenever he gets into your personal space. if you stand your ground, firm and sure about whatever you’re doing, carmen feels himself fostering a growing mixture of respect and arousal.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants):

i just KNOW carmen is thick…the stretch seems impossible every time, his cock filling up every inch inside your hot cunt, while carmen whispers that it’s going to be alright, that you can take it.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level):

higher than carmen has time for. hence the jerking off in the shower, and fucking you on the couch. he’ll take anything that he can get, for he knows time isn’t on his side.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after):

carmy will ask you a hundred questions about how you’re feeling, if you need anything, what he can do, before finally settling in beside you. sometimes he’ll lay there for a few minutes, before dragging himself up, uttering some excuse about needing to revise the new menu. you’ll fuss, try and pull him back down, and he’ll fold almost instantly.

#the bear fx #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #the bear smut

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miserycanary · 19 days

Text

MISSION: LOVE KILL ᡣ𐭩 [trailer]

pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: the trailer to my very first full-length series set in a soulmate AU.

pairings: (applies to future parts) angst, smut, fluff, mutual pining, misunderstandings, rivals to lovers to rivals, featuring Ghost's inability to communicate, graphic mentions of violence, might hint to sexual violence, BARELY PUT TOGETHER, torture, one bed trope, i-will-wait-for-you trope, loving-you-is-like-breathing trope, slowburn (unless I get bored and rush this), poor poor attempt in crack, will add more as we go on

The subtle searing pain on the back of his neck is enough reason for Ghost to hate the idea of soulmates existing. It wasn’t just the fact that he has lived up to his 30s feeling like a fire wasp is buzzing under his skin, it was that the government fully developed their system with pairs in mind. You mean to tell him that he has to have found his partner—who’s probably cities or even continents away—just so that he could fucking own property? Utter fucking bullshit, he calls it.

‘Nutjobs! The lot of them’

It was also the fact he had to watch his mum’s so-called soulmate almost beat them up to death each day. How could someone whose single purpose in life is to torment them be his mother’s soulmate? Fate either has a weird take on the concept of love and the whole shenanigan or it’s fucking wicked. Either way, the S-word has left a bad taste in his mouth—and memory. He would rather die, not having property—or anything really—to his name if it means that he wouldn’t comply to the fucking standards of pairs.

Or so he thought because, once again, life is fucking wicked like that.

When he first broke the news that he would be retiring from the army, he expected his future days ahead full of smooth-sailing lounging. Maybe a cup of tea in hand or even some biscuits if he was feeling fancy. Imagine his shocked face when he inquired with a real-estate agent to finally have something to call home, no longer needing to stay by some cheap hotel with what his little pay could afford, that he cannot fucking do that!

“Yeah, this would be good. Really nice stuff here,” Ghost gruffs. “Yeah? Well, let’s get started then. Um, here are the paperworks that you need to fill out. Uhh, you just need to input your government code and your partner’s. It is policy that you bring your pair in with you when it comes to legal documents, but I’m sure that we could make an exception for our veteran here,” the agent smiles; one that Ghost did not reciprocate. “I ain’t got a missus with me. Haven’t found them yet.”

It was a simple explanation, not wanting to dwell too much on his reasons. Before he could even take the papers in his hand, the man retracts. Confusion etched on Ghost’s face while pity is on the man’s. “Oh, I am really sorry but you are legally required to have a partner before you could own property—or anything for that matter.” Ghost looked this agent for a good few minutes, anticipating the ‘sike’ that he desperately wishes to hear but only dead silence echoes. “Surely you could, say, make an except for a veteran?” he nervously chuckles out, trying to weasel his way into a fucking home. Nothing. Dead fucking silence that’s heavy with pity. Ghost loathes it.

Without even saying a word, he turns his back and starts walking towards the car he rented today, because you can’t even own a car in this government! He should have flagged it as weird when the lady in the car shop insists that he should rent first before buying something. So, now he sits in the dingy bar that Soap has dragged him into after he informed the force that he would not be settling anytime soon. After explaining his circumstance, he expected them to react like he did before, but no. They all replied like they knew this. Even saying stuff like, “you didn’t know?” Of course he didn’t! It wasn’t like Ghost was invested in property or anything for that matter while he was serving. All he cared about was surviving each day, and that is it.

“Aye, cheer up, lad. Life ain’ that bad. Ya’ just gotta get them lassie, and all yer problems would go away,” the Scot on his right drunkenly offers advice—a shit one at that. Did he really think Ghost hasn’t stepped foot on every land they got deployed with heavy hopes that he’ll find whoever he needs to find there? He fucking hates it here. He should have not retired this early if he knew this would happen. Now he needs to go around the world and search for the lassie whose presence—or her lack thereof—is the root of all his problems.

If finding a needle in a haystack is hard, imagine finding a lady that’s probably moving countries as he speaks with Soap. “Yeah, like that’s fucking easy,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes before lifting his mask just enough to down his shot of whiskey. The fiery burn of the alcohol down his throat is nothing compared to the one on his neck. He would rather have it cut at this point than to go on about this miserable lifetime any longer.

“Should I just cut and peel it off?” he mumbles to no one in particular; probably to Fate if that shit is listening. Seeing that no one else in the rundown bar is really paying attention to him, Soap takes the honour in replying to him instead. “According tae what I’ve seen, jobby pain is hee haw compared tae th' pain ye will feel in yer heart. Doctors say that th' pain goes tae th' heart instead while tripling”. Unprompted, Ghost curses like a fucking sailor. Saying stuff that will probably get him on the government's watchlist if he wasn’t part of the military serving this goddamn country. He risks his life daily and this is what he gets? Ungrateful bastards.

With a slam of the glass on the mahogany table, he stands up with a new profound determination. “Fuck it, I’m finding that missus if it’s the last thing that I do”. “Eyy, that’s the spirit, matie,” Soap drunkenly encourages him, which should have been the first red flag on this idea. Any idea supported by Soap is an immediate botch.

Well, what could go wrong? He’s retired anyway.

Turns out, many could go wrong. Well, here’s to the fucking shit-show of his life.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: please give this love!!

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! @hotvinimon

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

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stariikis · 3 months

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐧𝐫𝐤 ˖ ࣪⭑

synopsis ; like the moon needs the stars, riki's whole life would crumble without you. his inspiration, greatest motivation, and his muse.

pairing ; artist!nishimura riki x muse!reader genre ; fluff, established rs, realllly really short drabble of thoughts

this love's possessing me, but i don't mind at all

There are a million ways to say, 'I love you.'

Aren't there?

One chasing after their certain eye-candy may purchase a whole bouquet of that person's favourite flowers. Another would pour their heart and soul onto a piece of paper, a subtle love confession decorated with stickers and fanciful designs. Another might try their hardest to impress them with whatever their forte is.

Riki, however, takes all these and mashes them into one gorgeous painting on an easel.

He emerges from his 'workplace', one of the study rooms in your shared apartment. A blank canvas, about the size of his hand, accompanies him out. Not to mention the various brushes, the bristles sticking out all over the place revealing how loved they are. The paints, watercolour in a small box, acrylic aligned in their designated tubes, and oils of any colour possible.

Lips puckered in a pouting motion, he scans you as if wondering what light he wants to paint you in today. Where he wants to set up his painting station for the next few hours.

The reasons for his choice of background go from the smallest of things to the most obvious. It could simply be the style of your choice of clothes, but once it had been because of the way you reacted when he woke you up in the morning.

He used a fiery red base colour for that artwork. Perfectly encapsulating the constant frown you wore the rest of the day. His words, not yours. They could only ever be his words.

When he finally dismissed you from 'work', he paid you for your efforts with a kiss.

Your sour expression morphed instantly. In the blink of an eye, it was almost as if you had never woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

it's taking over me, don't wanna fight the fall

Today he quietly brings you to the edge of a field, just as sundown occurs. He looks up at the sky, cotton candy clouds bleeding into a warm hue of orange. Nothing leaves his mouth. An absolute silence has overcome him.

And knowing that there's no need for you to break it, there's no need to coax him out of this state for the better, comforts you deep down to the core.

It's like you know exactly how to go about routine, as you settle yourself in the wispy, tall grass and wait for him to set up his materials. However, after propping up his easel, he doesn't unpack his paints and brushes like he usually does. He doesn't unroll his scuffed-with-paint marks apron.

He merely gazes at you, soft and mesmerised.

As an artist, he should have neutral feelings towards his muse. He should be evoking surrounding emotions and feelings. He should be drawing them from deep within himself, and expressing them on the canvas before him.

A muse is only meant to be an inspiration. At times, it's the subject of the art piece. However, it's never the sole purpose.

But the way Riki looks at you proves all that wrong. The way his calloused hands held yours on the way to this destination. The way he scoots closer to you just as you drift off into sleep, and whispers all the newest paintings he's made. He confesses all the sketches he makes are of you. He can't get you out of his mind, he murmurs in a shaky tone, he can't rid himself of your influence on his artistry.

But he's so in love.

Why would he ever want to?

it's like supernatural ₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖

thank you for reading! i'm so sorry to anyone expecting me to write any other members. i'm just too addicted to writing for riki... i promise they will have their own fics soon. pls scold me if i don't churn them out... TT

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forgeofthenine · 1 month

Note

Also another one for Rolan, since some people seem to have a mod that replaces Gale with Rolan or something? I've only seen screenshots... Anyway, how does Rolan's magic play into his romantic life? Is he also into super weird astral projection threesomes? Does he summon pianos to play music in the background? Does he entangle his partner? Questions upon questions

I think I've come across that mod while modding my own game! I considered figuring out how to use it to kiss Dammon and then decided not to, maybe I should reconsider? Either way, I hope you enjoy the headcannons even if half of them are SFW, I actually used my new mechanical keyboard to write them instead of my phone (this fancy keyboard makes me so excited lmao)

NSFW under the cut

CW: Double penetration, Voyeurism, clone sex, bondage

Everyday magic with Rolan

SFW

Rolan LOVES some mundane magic, any opportunity is a good time to practise his magic

Your houseplants are looking a little sad? Don’t worry, he’ll use a spell to summon some water for them

You don’t have enough hands to multitask cooking a fancy dinner? He’s ready to help and doesn’t even need to stand

You hate cleaning the much too high up windows in Ramaziths Tower? Rolan has that handled too, don’t worry about it

He’s always looking for new ways to reinvent spells and impress those around him and that extends to his domestic duties as well

Sometimes, if he’s feeling a little cheesy, he’ll summon a gentle gust of wind to knock you off balance just enough for him to swoop in all romantically and be your prince charming

You’ll also generally find him perusing his library with an assortment of books and quills floating near him, or being moved off to the side when he doesn’t have need of them anymore

Mind your head if he doesn’t know you’re there, the room is essentially filled with projectiles

Rolan is also a master at summoning things over to his desk as he works so he never has to get himself up

That is, until you insist on dragging him away for a break

NSFW

If you don’t think Rolan uses his magic during sex then you don’t know this man

He loves some good vanilla love making, and it’s usually his go to, but using his magic simply adds some spice to things

Rolan is fully willing to make a magic clone of himself for the sole purpose of fucking you, whether he’s off to the side simply watching or getting in on the action himself he’s happy either way

He’s surprisingly into spitroasting you with his clone, especially when he gets to tease you as you’re moaning around said clone

Another thing he’s into is double penetration, there’s nothing Rolan loves more than seeing you spread out and taking two of his cocks

That’s not the extent of how he can use his talents in the bedroom however, far from it

Having magic abilities also makes bondage much, much easier luckily for Rolan

He could work it out ‘the normal way’ if he wanted, but this wizard would rather just skip to the good part

Silk ropes or thorned vines, Rolan just loves to see you bound and at his mercy, writhing with every touch of his skilled fingers

You’ll be feeling the fleeting touches of fingertips over sensitive spots for what seems to be hours (but is truly mere minutes) before he finally pulls you against him and has his way with you

Rolans not usually one for manhandling, rathering sweet kisses and declarations of love while taking care of your needs in bed, but using his magic in these ways lights a particular fire in him

Hopefully you’re able to hang on for the ride

#bri answers #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 smut #bg3 smut #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan x reader #rolan x reader smut

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ddyberzatto · 8 months

Text

just the two of us.

Strictly 18+. Super sweet but also pretty explicit smut. Not a ton of context, mostly steam. Very passionate vanilla. This is Carmy truly in love. I love this dynamic tbh.

⋆ ୨❀୧ ⋆

It can be hard to tell if he’s anxious or if something has happened, but you know not to push. He’s been like this again. Withdrawn, distant, his mind anywhere but with you. It’s all new to you, being there for each other like this, but you’ve learned how to look after each other just by doing the little things. You cook a meal for him - nothing fancy. You’re always a little self-conscious cooking for him, but he is always appreciative. And you know he needs you right now.

“I’m worried about you, Carmy.” You say once dinner is finished.

You weren’t sure how to approach it, or when. Here, in his apartment, in his living room, seems like the easiest place. In truth, it’s been hard to see him at all and going to his restaurant felt off-limits to you, at least whilst he was like this.

“I know, I–” He pauses, unsure what to say.

“I’m not trying to force anything. I just want you to know I’m here. I just don’t know if there’s anything I can do, or–”

He extends his hand to yours and pulls you onto his lap when you grasp it.

“You are honestly the best thing going on in my life right now.” He runs his hand through your hair. “Just— just don’t go anywhere. Stay, even if I fuck up.”

“How would you fuck up?” Your voice rises with concern.

“I don’t know, I just… I always do. I’ve pushed so many people away, I fucked every good thing up. Now you’re the good thing and I can feel you slipping away from me already and—“

He sounds panicked.

“I’m not. I promise I’m not.” You touch his cheek gently then place his hand on your chest.

It doesn’t take long before your breathing is in sync, deep and purposeful. Almost without meaning to, you begin to inch towards each other. He brushes your hair behind your ear and leans to whisper.

“I’m not perfect, I’m often not good enough at all. I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve not been here, I’ve been neglecting you, I’ve been–”

You hush him and grab the hand that’s resting behind your ear then cup your cheek in it.

“I want to be close to you” You murmur.

“Yeah?” He smiles gently.

His first smile today.

“Yeah.”

“How close?” He grabs your chin and pulls you in for a kiss. He’s gentle and it seems as if he’s holding back. “This close?”

“Closer.” You kiss him back.

With your lips intertwined in a deep kiss, he grabs your hip and leads you softly towards the bedroom. With each step you take towards the door, you feel the burning passion growing between you. Carmen is needy, groaning in your ear and you feel his cock twitching for you in his pants.

He’s worn out from another long day of work, sweaty, and his hair is a mess but you couldn’t care less. You love him like this. You love every version of him but this one, the one whose body is sore from work but still yearning for you, and whose voice is hoarse from shouting but gentle for you, is your version of Carmy. The one you will never have to share with the world.

“You’re so fucking sweet. Here, lay down.” He speaks softly in your ear.

Your body is now rested against the bed’s headrest and Carmy pushes himself between your pushed-up knees to kiss you. He places his hand under your top, his fingers gently grazing over your belly and working their way up towards your breasts.

“I missed you today.” You purr.

“Me too, baby.”

He pulls up your top and starts kissing your bare breasts, eager. As his kisses wander lower and lower, you feel your thighs tingling in excitement.

“Let’s get rid of that.” He says and pulls off your leggings and panties.

The anticipation is now almost unbearable. You feel his fevered breath close to your most intimate parts and his lips grazing ever so lightly. He’s teasing you. You push back his hair, trying to encourage him to continue. He spares you. His tongue glides against your clit, with just the right amount of gentle pressure. The pleasure is overwhelming and you arch your back, only for him to push you back in your place so he can savour you. He moans into you, his tongue still stroking you in a beautiful pattern. Your quiet whimpers turn into desperate moans, which only encourage him. One of his hands is still resting on your hip, holding you in place firmly. The other hand wanders to your opening and he gradually slides two of his fingers inside you. His fingers pushing on you from the inside make the sensations all the stronger and begin to feel the intense build-up.

“I’m almost there Carmy, I–”

He maintains a steady rhythm and the sensation soon becomes too much to bear. Your body fills with pure ecstasy and your moans now sound like filthy cries. You don’t know how many times you said Carmy’s name, how many I love yous slipped in as the pulsing tension of your pussy continued around his fingers.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He looks up at you, his hand gently stroking your inner thigh. You’re feeling very sensitive and although he knows your body so well, he doesn’t seem to be able to stop himself any longer. He undoes his belt hastily and quickly places himself at your opening. He’s so hard for you, his tip already soaked in his arousal. His gaze once again meets yours and he looks at you as if seeking permission. You can hardly breathe, let alone speak, so you nod and brace yourself.

His cock works itself into you bit by bit and soon you feel his entire length penetrating you, the tingling pressure filling up all of you. Your belly feels full of butterflies, full of love, full of Carmy. Once again your moans begin to rise, you move your head to the side but he grasps your chin to face him. He wants you to look at him, and only him, as he fucks you.

“Oh, I know, baby. I know.” He murmurs.

The tempo between your bodies speeds up and his movements become more rhythmic. Some strokes are deeper than others, but the deepest ones, when you feel his entire length, never fail to take your breath away.

“You pretty little thing.” His voice is raspy and makes you clench even tighter around him.

He’s eager and almost sloppy as he gets close. As soon as you feel his cock twitching, he quickly lifts you up by your back so that you are sitting on top of him in the lotus position. His manhood is still planted firmly inside you, you can feel every twitch as he fills you up. Nothing can beat that feeling, the closeness of your bodies right against each other as he orgasms inside you. His heavy breath is buried in your hair, in your ear, your neck.

“I love you.” He says in a breathy voice. “I love this.”

Your bodies finally untangle. He rests his back against the bed and lights a cigarette. You lay your head on his lap and he strokes your hair lightly.

“Carmy?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to worry... About messing this up. I won’t let you push me away.”

He exhales, a little shakily.

“I know. It will be different this time.” He says and takes another puff.

You believe him when he says that because everything has been different since you fell in love too. You both used to run but that was back when things never felt quite right. You fall asleep to Carmen’s gentle touches over your neck, shoulders, and back and it feels like home. Everything about this is right.

#carmy x reader #carmy smut #the bear fx #the bear #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fan fiction #Jeremy allen white #the bear smut #Carmen Berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #Carmen Berzatto x you #carmy Berzatto imagine

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lynk-zee · 28 days

Note

I'm a new follower after binging to your writings akejwjeej anyway, I've been craving for some angst lately and here's what I got so far,

reader who started acting cold towards the MLs because they've been hanging out way too much with MC (not the reader) so they started not replying to them, talking or just not going out to them at all until the reader just ghosted them.

though I'm not sure if u write angst since it's not written or indicated.. it's up to you if u want to write this. if not, feel free to ignore XD

Envy

AN: Hi nonnie! Since I didn’t specify that i prefer to write hunter/ambiguous!Reader (basically not rivaling with the MC) before you sent in the request, I will write this for you! :)

Future asks should either MC!Reader or Ambigous!Reader please! Ty 🩶

It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t paying attention to you enough lately. And he was supposed to be your boyfriend! He promised that they were just friends, that it was nothing more than work, but now you didn’t know…

So when he texted you last, you turned off your phone, not wanting to deal with his bullshit.

Knows there’s something wrong immediately. You always answer his texts. Whether it be an emoji or a full-blown paragraph, you’ve never left Zayne on read. Ever.

So, he goes to the flower shop and buys you a bouquet. It’s not enough, but it’s a start. He texts you that he’s picking up your favorite dinner on the way back and asks what kind of macarons you want. You don’t answer, so he goes the safe option and gets your favorite. You almost don’t answer the door when he drops by, but you can’t hide from this forever. So with a heavy sigh, you swing the door open to see Zayne with a bouquet of flowers with dinner and dessert.

Zayne: Can we talk…?

You let him in, of course you do, and you eat dinner in silence. But Zayne is adamant about having this discussion.

Zayne: She’s my patient…and my friend.

You: I understand that, but that doesn’t mean you need to hang out with her all the time!

In the end you both discussed your feelings and set clear boundaries with him. It’s a step in the right direction. Later, he cuddles you on the couch, stroking your hair while whispering affirmations in your ear.

Zayne: I’m sorry, dear. You’re the only one for me… Never doubt that.

This was the third date he blew off. For her. Yes, she was just his body guard, and yes Rafayel has always been naturally flirty, but that didn’t mean his fondness for her didn’t affect you. You were his significant other! All his flirty affections should be yours and yours alone. You couldn’t stand the fact you had to share his attention. Apparently, Rafayel couldn’t either.

Rafayel: It’s not that big of a deal! She was just helping me gather metapearls to make into pigment— Yes, I could have called you. But she’s my bodyguard! She’s more cut out for it!

Sweet whispers and reassurances turned to broken promises. What was supposed to be one hour away turned to five and you were sitting alone in the fancy restaurant yet again. You didn’t even wait for him at home like you usually do. After turning off your phone, you opted to crash at a friends house.

This turned into a big fight.

Rafayel: What’s with you— You were never this clingy.

Clingy? Not wanting to share your boyfriend with a potential lover is clingy? When you brought up the b word (breakup), he got his act together real quick.

Rafayel: Okay, okay. She’ll be my bodyguard at PR events only… And I’ll only contact her for business purposes.

Though you’d rather her not be his bodyguard at all, you understand they have a deal regarding hunter work so it’s a compromise. While you’re at your desk doing some work, he wraps his arms around you from behind, nuzzling your into your neck.

Rafayel: ‘M really sorry… I was a real jerk… I love you…

The worst part about having this problem with Xavier is that he has no idea what’s going on. She was his coworker, his work partner, and his neighbor. There wasn’t much he could do to stop seeing her.

Xavier: I can’t just move out of my home because of you have a problem with her…

You: Yeah, but she doesn’t need to come over all the time to “teach you how to cook”. I could do that!

It gets worse when they go on missions together. He had promised to call you every night. But he didn’t. And you were fed up.

So, you blocked him. Only for the duration of his mission. But it’s long enough to send a message. The next day, he comes to your house with an arm full of plushies and a nervous look in his eyes.

Xavier: I read that in order to maintain a strong relationship, you have to communicate and set boundaries… Can we discuss this? Together?

You guys both end up having a heartfelt discussion at the table. You heard his side, he heard yours, and you came to a compromise about the situation. He takes you out on a sweet date as an apology. It isn’t the end all be all of apologies, but it’s a start. He holds your hand tightly, leaning over to kiss your forehead.

Xavier: I promise we’re in this together for the long ride, just you and me…

#☀️l&ds #⭐️l&ds #love & deepsace x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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ruija · 3 months

Note

Well I really love your art, may I ask how do u color? I struggle with coloring turtles and I wasn't to know how do u do that?

Hi anon! That's a very broad question, so you've given me a great excuse to ramble anything I want about my coloring, eehehehee~! This will be in two parts and I'll start with talking about my simpler coloring style.

As in, when I color characters on a white background, with a limited or light palette.

The driving force behind this style is me being lazy. My time, energy, and attention span are pretty limited, so if I want to finish anything, I gotta do it fast. And with fanart, I'm usually just doing it for fun and relaxation, so there's no need to push myself to polish it too much.

Despite that, I rarely post just black and white sketches or line arts. I always try to add at least a little bit of toning or shading, because that makes the image easier to read. The characters and their shapes pop out and catch the eye of the viewer better.

However, in this particular example, just the couple toning colors don't quite do the job. The way Don and Leo are entangled makes the center area of this illustration very busy and hard to read.

As a comparison; this pic has only one tone + mask colors, and it works. This is because all the characters are standing separately and their poses are very stationary and simple.

So for the Don + Leo pic, adding some shadows helps in bringing out shapes and depths. Also in general, if you don't feel like drawing BGs, it's good to at least add a shadow below the characters. It grounds them and makes them feel like they exist within a space.

Sometimes if the posing looks too complex and busy, it might just be best to color in the characters fully.

However, even if I do full flat colors, I tend to use a lighter palette. Putting characters in their neutral/default color on a white BG can look a bit jarring as if they're floating in a void. It feels less immersive and like the picture is unfinished.

Using lighter colors makes the image more cohesive, and fits the characters into the white environment a bit more naturally.

If I'm too lazy to draw a BG, I prefer using stylized and limited colors. It feels deliberate and that the whiteness is just part of the palette, whereas the character-accurate colors on white don't match as well, even if they're more pastel.

That being said, there's nothing wrong with just slapping the flat-colored characters on a white background. As you know, I do it too. I'm just exposing my 'fancy coloring style' for what it is; me being lazy, hah!

Limited and monochromatic palettes are a nice shortcut even when you do actual backgrounds. It's faster and you don't have to worry about clashing colors. And you can still convey atmosphere and mood.

Also, on the topic of conserving your time and efforts; I think it's very common among younger/less experienced artists to think that the amount of time you spend on your art piece = how good and well received that piece will be.

Which has some merit to it of course, but it can lead to putting too much effort into areas where it's not necessary. E.g. filling the piece with tons of details and clutter that don't serve an actual purpose, but rather make the image hard to read. Or doing really complicated shading for a meme/comic, where simplicity would deliver the joke better.

So whenever I'm drawing something I intend to publish, whether it's a quick doodle or a more polished piece, I try to follow these two principles: Make it easily readable and do the bare minimum that needs to be done to convey what I want to convey.

Putting time into practice is important, but if you draw for work, it's also crucial that you know how to prioritize and use your time efficiently!

Anyway, thanks for reading! In the next part I'll go into how I do my fully colored pieces, so stay tuned for that!

#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #ruija replies #drawing tutorial #art tutorial

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snipersfucker · 11 months

Note

Hello :)

I saw that you were taking Mirage request and I wanted to ask if you can do Mirage x a fem reader were Mirage has a crush on the reader and has the habit of holding her like she is a cat and also maybe a confession? :D *the picture is a example XD*

this is so cute oh my

Mirage was a good friend.

Ever since Noah introduced him to you, he's been nothing but kind. Always finding time to talk to you and see you, even though he had his Autobot duties, always making sure you were either laughing or smiling, never allowing you to feel down when you were around him.

It's always been like that. And the idea that these little, innocent touches of his metal skin on yours, his optics that stayed on your face just a bit longer than anybody else's, the sweet, teasing nicknames he'd use when talking to you, would be anything other than Mirage being a good, caring friend has never really crossed your mind.

A robot fancying a human? That sounded absolutely insane.

But not to him. Oh, not once has he thought of his feelings towards you as not possible, strange, inappropriate. He'd rather describe anyone not being completely head-over-heels for you as such. It was just so easy for him to fall for you, it came naturally.

At the same time, as much as he'd love to just be around you all the time, hold you like the most precious treasure that you were, and call you his, he'd rather fight Scourge again than risk ruining your friendship because you didn't reciprocate his crush. And as self-confident as he might sound, he was quite unsure of whether you felt the same or was just being friendly.

So he didn't tell you anything. He stayed silent, bottling everything up, just trying to enjoy his moments with you, occasionally allowing himself to do something more, to get a bit closer to you than he normally would. Something that'd be more intimate than just sitting next to you, something that'd let him actually feel you.

And, God, he felt bad. He did feel bad for his touches not being completely innocent, even though he couldn't even imagine disrespecting you by crossing any of your boundaries. He just needed something more.

So there he was, standing in front of you, his servos on his hips as he looked down at you with his signature smirk.

"You seen these muscles?" he asked nonchalantly as if he wasn't going to flex his strength just now, lazily motioning to his upper half with a digit, "I could lift seven trucks with one hand," he added, his tone not changing its colour.

He might've been exaggerating but it was for comedic purposes only so he could do that.

When you asked him how many pounds he'd be able to lift, you weren't exactly expecting an honest answer. Mirage both liked to act all tough and strong, but you also knew that he's never really checked how much weight he could actually pick up. So the conversation just turned into a playful banter as per usual.

"I weight eight trucks," you said with a straight face. These words left your mouth not because you were trying to sound like an insecure attention-seeker, but because you wanted to tease him. And it was best done by doubting his abilities and deflating his huge ego. "Don't think you can handle that."

It was childish and you were well aware of it but you enjoyed it too much to stop. It's always been like that and you hoped it'd never be any different.

"Oh, you should see the things I've handled..." he trailed off, the look on his face indicating that the stuff he was referring to was at least impressive. He knew you weren't serious, and you were aware of his actual strength.

His tone was funny. As if he was trying to appear at least a bit humble but failing tremendously. With his chin higher, optical ridges slightly raised, a confident smile on his face plate, he looked like a typical show-off, almost typical Mirage.

The sight made you snicker quietly under your nose.

You didn't know the direction the conversation was going in but he did. He knew what he wanted to do and he knew it was one of the rare occasions in which he was be able to allow himself to do something more, just like he'd craved for a long time.

His reaction to your small laugh was immediate. Even though you weren't making fun of him, he could pretend that it offended him. That you provoked him to prove you otherwise, that he could, in fact, lift you up with ease. So he lowered himself just enough for his servos to meet your body, wrapped them gently around your waist and picked you up. Just like a person holding a cat.

Now that your eyes were on the level of his optics, although not close enough for your warm breath to hit his face plate, you could see his confident smirk in its full glory.

"Show-off," you muttered under your breath with a small smile, even though you knew he could hear you, his audio receptors picking up on most sounds in a very big radius.

She's so soft. She's so soft...

"Oh, yeah," he scoffed, shaking his head in amusement, not letting you see how much he wanted to just keep you between his servos forever. "It's okay, dude, you can just say that you wanted me to hold you, I won't judge," he added, his tone light, casual, projecting. He shrugged with nonchalance on his face as if it was actually the truth and he wouldn't be mad at you if you wanted him to touch you like that.

Projecting.

And he called you dude. He called you dude because sweetheart felt too intimate at the moment, too heartfelt, as if he was scared that the position you two were in and that nickname rolling off his glossa towards your ears would make you realise he likes you. And he didn't want that.

"I feel like a damn cat, M..." you muttered again, placing your hands on his in a poor attempt to push them away for your body. But your smile betrayed you.

His spark almost exploded when he felt your warm hands on his metal ones.

"I'll let you sell me if you meow right now."

He had to say something, otherwise you'd notice the hearts in his optics that appeared when he was staring at you.

His words made you giggle and shake your head in amusement. "I'd sell you without you even realising it," you decided to respond with something more sassy, a smirk and a raised eyebrow only adding to the whole effect.

"You'd get rid of that pretty face?" He tilted his helm slightly, attempting to sound offended and hurt by your statement.

You shook your head in amusement again, letting out a soft sigh.

Mirage gasped dramatically, his face again showing pretend hurt. "You don't think I'm pretty?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.

He loved every second of it.

You looked up at him, turning your lips into a thin line, as if you didn't have enough courage to tell him that you, in fact, didn't find him pretty, even though you did.

"You..." he gasped again, and if he wasn't holding you in his hands, he would put his servo on his spark just to add another dramatic effect. Then, a brilliant idea crossed his mind, "Air jail."

He turned his head to the side as much as he could to still be able to see you in his peripheral vision, straightening his arms fully so that you were as far from him as possible but still touching him.

"Mirage," you said his names as a warning. He knew you wanted him to place you on the floor again but air jail was definitely a real thing in his world.

"You deserve it," he said, his tone mean but not actually sounding like he meant it.

She's so cute. So cute...

"Mirage," you repeated his name sternly, although still playfully enough for him to know that you wanted this to continue, and his spark sped up.

"Tell me I'm pretty."

He sounded like a little toddler throwing a fit which nearly made you giggle but you decided to play along.

"...No."

So warm, so warm...

He scoffed at the word. Dramatically. Just to let you know you didn't actually hurt his feelings.

"You asked for it," he said nonchalantly, fake offence still lingering somewhere in his tone.

He felt smart. So smart for making something up just so he could hold you for a little longer, hoping you wouldn't mind if he did it playfully some time in the future again.

A few moments passed. The only thing he could focus on was your skin against his. The silence normally wouldn't bother him much but this time he felt as if you could practically hear his thoughts about yourself.

"Okay, Jesus. You're pretty," you muttered, rolling your eyes. The slight curl of your lips betrayed you again.

He was not expecting you to actually say that. His helm turned in your direction way faster than he wanted. He thanked Primus his optics didn't get as wide as they probably would've if he hadn't stopped them in time.

He knew you said it only because you wanted him to put you down on the ground. But the warmth that spread all over his metal body felt nicer than it probably should.

"Somebody's gotta crush on me..." he cooed teasingly just to cover up his own sudden nervousness.

You rolled your eyes again with a smirk.

"Floor, M."

Her voice is so soft...

He obliged. Of course he obliged, you told him exactly what he wanted to hear, you looked so pretty in his hands, you felt so warm...

You were standing on the ground again, hands on your hips as you looked up at his satisfied face plate. Cocky as always.

...And so that little thing that he came up with on spot became a part of your daily playful banters. You'd say something he didn't like, you'd end up in air jail.

You didn't mind, really, and found it rather amusing than any other thing. And this time was no different.

A few weeks after the invention of air jail, he did it again for the tenth time.

"You know I'm not putting you down till you say it, man."

Again, any other pet name sounded too intimate and it has not changed since the first time he had you in this position.

You were aware what you had to do, but it didn't stop you from being a disobeying little shit, denying him the things he wanted to hear from you.

"Airazor wouldn't date you."

He knew she wouldn't, he knew he didn't even want her to, but it was another excuse for him to hold you in his hands.

"Wrong."

"Ask her."

"I can't hear you."

"Ask her if she'd date your annoying ass."

He gasped, shaking his helm in disapproval as he looked at you with fake disappointment.

"Damn..." he pretended to feel hurt by your words, a sad expression on his face plate.

You frowned, at first with confusion at his sudden change of demeanor, and then with worry. You were worried that you actually said too much, that you said something wrong.

And noticing the look on your face, Mirage's immediately lightened up, showing him that he was joking as per usual.

"I hate you," you said as soon as you noticed he wasn't actually affected my your words.

"Nah. You love me," he said nonchalantly, shrugging, acting as if it was actually true.

"Nope." You shook your head. "I'm afraid it's one-sided,' you added with fake pity, acting like it was him who loved you without you reciprocating it.

And even though you were absolutely joking, he panicked.

Could you possibly know about his feelings? Has he been too obvious? What was it? Was he supposed to play along? Or was it the right time to tell you that he fell for you so hard he couldn't bear the thought of not being around you for more than a minute?

"I love you," he blurted out and cussed himself out in his mind for doing it in such a... disappointing way.

It wasn't him. He knew it wasn't him. Old Mirage would have never confessed his feeling like that. He would have never even feel anything so strong towards another being, the idea of confessing it too distant that it would never even cross his mind.

You changed him.

It felt strange. It felt strange to say these three words to you, he stopped feeling like himself for a few moments.

Strange but at the same time... good. He could sense the relief washing over his body as the confession left his mouth but the weight of the fear of rejection was still suffocating.

He wanted to repeat it. The three words threatened to roll off his glossa again but he swallowed them, noticing the way you reacted to them the first time.

"M..." you trailed off, too stunned to say anything else.

He wished your voice was less soft. Less careful.

"Yep," he said awkwardly, putting you down on the floor immediately. He nodded to himself. "Shouldn't have said that."

He was close to cussing himself out in front of you but he wanted to both do it in his helm and then later when you'd be gone.

Gone from his life forever...

"Nope, I actually meant it," he corrected himself, not really knowing what to say, feeling extremely out of place, acting more awkwardly than ever. "Friend."

He called you a friend just to save himself but he was fully aware it might've been too late for that.

"I love you as a friend, dude," he added again, making a finger-gun with one of his servos and pointing it at you.

It was getting worse and worse with every passing second.

He looked at you, standing without any movements, searching for any positive reaction on your face.

"Mirage..."

You used his name which meant you were most likely about to tell him that you were sorry, and that you didn't feel the same, and that you didn't want to have him in your—

"I love you."

His spark stopped.

He kept staring at you but then finally managed to get the courage to ask, just to make sure, "As a friend?" His voice was sceptical, as if he was expecting a negative answer. Which he obviously was.

You took a deep breath in and gave him a soft look.

"Not as a friend, got it," he interpreted your non-verbal response, nodding to himself a couple of times, breaking eye contact to look at the garage wall in front of him to collect himself. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, "Well, unfortunately I love you as a friend, so..." he trailed off with an unserious look on his face plate, his funny self finally making a comeback.

You scoffed, crossing your arms on your chest and shaking your head in both disbelief and amusent.

The audacity this man had...

"Alright, fine," he groaned, pretending not to like what was about to leave his mouth, "I love you as maybe just a bit more than a friend."

"Mirage..." you warned him for the third time today.

"I love you as a lot more than a friend," he corrected himself, not wanting to push it too much.

The eye contact was back.

"You're makin' me wanna giggle right now," he said randomly, as if it was a normal thing to say after confessing his undying love to a woman.

You snorted.

"The giggles are getting stronger. I can't hold 'em back," he said in a slightly warning tone, the seriousness in it making your smile grown bigger.

You both stared at each other just for mere second before you both erupted with laughter.

He did giggle.

"I love you, man," he repeated when you both calmed down after a few moments, "And I will stop calling you man. Someday. Promise," he added when he realised he didn't use sweetheart this time either.

"Yeah, of course." You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement as you both looked into each other's eyes with warmth. "I love you, too."

And he smiled, finally feeling at home.

A/N: i used an insecure attention seeker instead of a pick-me even though i hate both but i couldn't really describe it differently lmao also, emotions give me an ick so it may be a bit cringey but we roll. and it's so bad (im just saying that so yall could give me compliments) cuz i haven't written anything in a while..... and the ending made me nearly throw up.....

#mirage #mirage x my pussy #mirage x you #mirage x reader #mirage rotb #mirage transformers #transformers rotb #transformers #mirage smut #mirage fluff #mirage angst #rotb

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