I’m gonna post the finished page in max 2 days, but I’m honestly quite proud of just the lineart, so I wanted to post it before I start the coloring (not actual coloring, like the past pages type coloring, greyscale type thingy, srry i’m tired).

The Doll House

Yan! Modern Childe x 'pet'! Fem! reader x yan! modern Pantalone (Xtra Dessert!)

Minors do not interact or better yet, if you're uncomfortable with dark fiction. You may look away and nothing will be gone from you.

Thirsty fans, come git yer round 2 dessert. I know you guys have a separate stomach for it. Have a mood board for this fic too.

Warnings: R18+ Explicit content, Using Childe's actual name, Dub-con/non-con(?), bondage (ribbons), cosplay, use of titles/pet names: Sir, kitty, sweetie etc.., And more unnamable things to come. (+ Bad writing of smut)

This is my apology to you guys since I ran into some difficulty making the requests given in my inbox or chat, because I'll be busy for the next couple of days for personal reasons. - Puppeteer

"Y'all are thirsty, ps. Scribe doesn't know about this so please keep it between you and me." - Falaila

¶🗡️¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥🗡️¶

"Give me a little twirl, Darling." Pantalone commanded as you move your body around in the black lolita style cosplay.

"A-ah… " letting out a low moan as you took a step. Feeling the cat tail wag inside of your rear, no doubt that Pantalone got it just for his entertainment. Sweet chimes of bells ever bounce along with you as you get near the Regrator who sat upon a red velvet-y couch.

"Now, that's a good girl. Big improvement from last time." He smiled, having you on his lap, nipping at your exposed skin. Savoring the sight of you wearing the things he picked. Especially that collar of yours, customised embossed on the leather with his title. Hands roam around your body while your head rests on his chest. You couldn't do anything with your hands tied by a ribbon.

"Pan-!" Feeling the sharp pain on your bare bottom under your skirt making you yelp.

"Tsk, tsk, _. We talked about this, address me properly." Pushing up the frilly skirt before resting his hand on your butt cheek, rubbing it.

"I'm s-sorry, master." Whimpering as you buried your face against his chest out of humiliation.

"Mm, there we go." He hummed seemingly satisfied, it had been at least a few months after taking you in. His other gloved hand stroked your head, occasionally playing with the cat ear headband. Meanwhile, the hand that's on your ass teased you by pushing the tail a bit further in before rubbing your exposed cunt.

"Does my little kitten miss her master filling her up?" Teasing as to get a lewd reaction from you, while leaving love marks all over your neck. Knowing this would be enough to piss off Ajax once he comes back.

"We have all the time to ourselves, sweetie." Inserting his fingers in your sopping wet hole. "Oh, rose." He hissed when he felt you rubbing against him on his lap. Pulling his digits out and forcing you to lick it clean. Hesitant lips pried open as your tongue identifies the substance. “ Tasty?” Another jest, a humoured chuckle resonated from his throat.

He retreats his hands from your body, first you hear the jingle of his belt, then his zipper. It caused you to shiver in fear. " Don't be scared now." He mused before forcefully pulling you down on his lap, entering your warm entrance.

"Ngh… Master… It's too much..!" You were about to say his name again but rather not get humiliated. Tears welled up in your eyes as the pain slowly subsided into pleasure. He could feel you squeezing him tight, another spank is earned this time, his hand just squeeze your buttcheek.

"Shush, you take it as it is with pride." Kissing the side of your head before moving your hips to meet with his, letting your mouth make incoherent, lewd noises. What adds to your mortification is that the immoral act is on display to whomever enters or opens the door.

Jealous eyes met with his, the Regrator merely smirked and thrust his hips more. Hearing those sweet melodious moans from your lips satisfies him along with the saccharine tolls of the bells. Baby blue eyes that peered from the crevice of the door, stared coldly at him with an ill intent. His grip on your ass hasn't left, with one final thrust, he came inside of you. Some of his cum dribbled out, biting his lips as he felt you also came all over him.

"Mm, fuck… Who do you like better, doll. Me, Or a child?" He's asking a rhetorical question. Because he knows you'll choose him, right? It is also to taunt the little peeping tom in the room who made eye contact with him. His smile turned smug when he saw a child giving him the middle finger from the crack between the doors. In response to that, Pantalone's hand made contact with your pinkish butt cheek again earning another moan from your candied lips.

Before you could even speak, the door slammed open. "You fucking bastard, getting a head start!" Looking back at Ajax who had his shirt tattered a bit, he got into a fight earlier. While Pantalone just hummed and pulled you closer to his chest.

"Look, you're scaring her.." He cooed, kissing your forehead. It irked Ajax as you started to dread the sounds of him taking off his pants. "Oh, I'll fucking show you." Grumbled the 11th seat.

"W-wait-! I'm not ready- ah!" The cat tail is removed from your teased asshole as his cock slowly sinks in, replacing it. Letting out a loud groan, both men felt how your gummy walls clenched around them.

But that didn't stop the ginger haired combative man. "H-huu.. s-sir..!" He didn't hear your plea as he grabbed onto your bound hands from behind and used it to pull and push back into you.

"Fuck..! So, tight!" Ajax huff in your scent as your voice bounces off the room he can't even hear the sweet sounds of the bells placed on you.

Not seeing that scheming smile on Pantalone's face, he wasn't lying when he told you that he'll have more time with you than with Tartaglia. Especially when Ajax just came back from work. He figured that Pierro would assign the youngest to another turf for another shake down soon, leaving less time with you.

"Hope you don't mind working overtime, sweetheart. Unless you want us to breed you just before our wedding tomorrow."

𝐃𝐄𝐉𝐀 𝐕𝐔 • TEEN!MICHAEL AFTON

# chrt. MICHAEL AFTON

ʚ ◠◠ syp. YOUR TIME IS running and you don't have much to live. even before death, your boyfriend comforted you, making the pain less hurtful

❑ cw. Heavy angst bcs I'm xtra angsty today<33

DATING MICHAEL was one of the greatest gifts life had given you. he was sweet and soft when it comes to you but was rough and rocky when it comes to people surrounding him. you noticed how much of a big softie he really was since then. how he tries to deny he's soft when it comes to his siblings and how outright he was protective off of you over nothing.

you once again collapsed for the 3rd time in this month, and your condition is even worse; having to lose huge amount of blood while collapsing headfirst on a hard wood, what surprised you was that you're alive and barely breathing.

noticing how droopy your eyes were, bags forming under because of the endless amount you cried last night. your hands were frail and pale and so was your face.

your body had grown weak. and you couldn't walk without a cane or even a wheelchair. you're stuck inside this hospital once again, the smell was familiar, to be honest this hospital was your second home because you're always confined in.

the doctor and you had the talk, informing you about small chances of living in a month or so, you knew it since the start.

that you'll die in this hospital and leave everyone out. but still it cuts you deep, you don't want to die yet, you still wanted to marry him. Michael Afton.

but you couldn't do anything to prevent it anyway, no matter how much you're trying your best to survive you knew you'll die soon.

you were due by the end of the month. you don't have any guts to tell Michael or even Rephrase it, afraid that he'll go through even worse. you wish you could've told him about it. but you're too weak.

Today was your last day. the sound of the soft 'beeps' and the IV attached on your hand was heavily nostalgic. Michael's head nesting the crook of your neck while saying sweet nothings to your ears.

how he will take care of you and marry you once you're out of the hospital, how he will do anything to keep you alive and safe by his side. you wanted to cry; you don't wanna leave him. deciding to suck it up as you hummed softly.

"I love you N/N. I swear once I'm out that hellhole I will take care of you, and be the best boyfriend you've ever had. I will take care of you and give whatever you want." he said

"I love you too Michael." you whimpered, shifting your hands and clasping it to his. Michael smiled and softly kissed your jawline. holding your hands so gently as if you'll break in his hands.

he had always wanted to marry you considering that you're barely in your 20's. he is 16 and you were 15. 1 year age gap.

Today would be your last day before tomorrow you'll be put down and be set free. it sounds good having to not live in pain anymore, but still. you don't want to let go.

Michael had already gone home, he said his Father will get mad at him for staying up even late, you've always told him to always go home early and take care of himself, but he never listens to you anyway and insist that he'll do just fine.

the moon light filling the whole room, it felt so relaxing and relieving. your eyes had gone heavy and the next thing you knew you were off to sleep.

Sept 14 1985.

[MONDAY]

your breathing had stopped already. and the last thing you did was smile feebly. today, Michael woke up a bit too late, it wasn't a surprise because he came home quite later than usual.

deciding to stop by at some flower shop to give you some flowers. and like what his friends advised him to do; to be cautious with which flowers to give as each indicates different meanings.

he decided that, Pastel Carnations; both red and white, and a Red Roses he would give. he chuckled proudly as he left the flower shop with a bouquet on his hands.

soon as he stopped at the hospital he couldn't contain himself, knowing that you'll love these and because he had always wanted to give you a gift.

"a-ah...! Michael! I'm glad seeing you here." Mother M/N said, her voice was horse and she looks like a mess, Michael felt quite saddened because of what she had to go through.

"Mother M/N, I'm glad to see you here. how was Y/N?" as soon as Michael mentioned about the recently deceased person, M/N couldn't contain herself and cried. to which Michael looked over at her; puzzled.

"a-are you okay?! here sit here, please calm down for a little bit, everything will be fine." Michael panicked, letting her sit on an empty seat by the hospital lobby.

"y- Y/N .. mY POOR Y/N..!" she weeps.

Michael gently pat her back, letting her cry out every pain and misery she kept hidden inside of her.

however, poor Michael didn't seem to crack the code yet. all he knew was M/N cried because she was worried over Y/N.

"w-what happened Mother M/N? is.. Y/N alright?!" his face tainted with anxiety and trepidation. the bouquet he had bought sat on his lap as he comforts M/N.

"my poor baby..! didn't make it! they were in pain and I c-couldn't do anything.." Michael looked over at her; his heart racing and pumping way too hard. his eyes starting to get even watery.

there's no way you're dead right? you were healthy and doing just fine the past few weeks?!

"Mother M/N, n-now's not the time to be joking around y'know..?" he was smiling as if she was joking. she didn't even replied, loudly weeping. Michael's smile gone into a frown, as tears and tears flowing at the side of his eyes. his eyes fluttered and soon enough he remained silent.

denial, confusion, anger and sadness. all mixed in and diluted with every emotions he was feeling. you're not dead. no, you're still here, just hanging around inside of your room and waiting for him.

his hand on his mouth, muffling every moans and yells he makes. the bouquet had already slipped from his lap to the floor. as he lets himself cry harder and harder.

next thing he knew. he had gone to a very depressive and went into a hiding for 3 days.

your funeral had ended. Michael didn't get to set a glimpse upon your pale looking face. your mom was right. you were dead. and you didn't even bother to tell him that you're gonna die soon.

tears after tears slipped down his flushed cheeks. your dad was standing right beside him. tracing circles on his back while your mother stood behind Michael, still crying.

"Michael. Y/N loved you so much, even after they were put down, you were the last thing they've wanted to see before they die." F/N choked into a sobbing fit, his voice trembling and M/N was crying too.

Michael couldn't talk, his voice was husky and he couldn't think of anything except you. he nodded.

"here. take this, Y/N took their time writing this. and they wanted to give it to you once they're dead." F/N with a box on his hand, handed it over to Michael; he even insisted to get Michael home, but Michael turned them down, saying that he'll be alright.

now he is stuck inside his dark room. with nothing but a box on his hand. the only source of his solace. opening the box as his eyes widened.

pictures of you and him, a bunch of recorders; music and some were recordings of you doing dumb teen stuff. and a tiny handsewn teddy bear that you were so proud of. he knew he's gonna miss you. he wants no one but you.

his eyes were swollen and he couldn't cry anymore. he held the teddy bear close to his chest, as he plays the video recording of you and him.

"why.. why did you leave me..?" he muttered, his body trembling.

now that you're gone, he felt lost. and everything doesn't seem so entertaining to him anymore.

losing you means losing himself.

[A/N] i am crying real bad. and i'm also not sorry <\3

MIDAS TOUCH! ⁂ [ ryūguji ken ]

18+ content! minor, ageless and blank blogs will be blocked if they interact with this work.

﹡come getcha fics!

﹡synopsis: gold is a dangerous thing for someone like draken to have, especially when it’s in his mouth.

﹡wc: 2k+ words.

﹡includes: female reader. use of petnames (princess) use of the word cunt. car sex. public sex (parking lot) cunnilingus. fingering. spit. dirty talk but not much. clit stimulation. allusion to multiple orgasms. implicit mention of spanking. overstimulation. draken with his hair down. nuff said.

﹡xtra! repost from my old blog w a few changes. we back. see visual. and godspeed.

“One more time.”

“Babe.” Ken groans, head thrown back into the headrest of the carseat as he drags the sound. “This is the sixth time you’ve asked, y’know.”

“I know but-”

He cuts you off. “In the last fifteen minutes.”

“I know. But this is the last time, I promise! Seventh’s time the charm, just show me and I won’t bother you again. Pleaseee?”

You don’t even have to pout. It’s not like he has the mental fortitude to deny you of anything you asked of him, although he should be the least bit used to this by now, being together as long as you have.

“Last time,” he says, but it’s spoken more toward himself than it is to you. Neither of you believe it.

Slacking his jaw, Ken obliges you and lets his mouth fall open a fraction, bottom lip separated by its top counterpart by about two inches. Two inches is as far as his generosity goes. He’s granting your request with two measly inches for ten measly seconds before he’s trying to snap his mouth shut again, but you’re quicker. Two fingers beneath his chin bring his face closer to yours with gentle force while the thumb works at his lip, pulling it downward so you can feast your eyes on what you want to see— for as long as you want to see it.

You strike gold… literally. The whites of his teeth have been replaced entirely with the stuff, weaving his entire bottom row in the opulence of real karats, shaped to fit every dip and curve of his teeth to the letter. You almost forget you’re holding his mouth open, bewitched by his tongue as it swipes over the gold-plated canines, rose pink leaving the metal lustred in spit. That’s when it hits you—the gravity of what you’ve done.

There isn’t anybody in this world more influential than you. No billionaire, president, or popstar that could ever hold a candle to the flame of power you possess. You were the one who got Ken Ryuguji to wear grillz. Could Jeff Bezos say the same?

It was a hedonistic gift to yourself from yourself, a concept manifested from a I think they’d look good on you, Ken that you just had to see through to the end. Your belief in the idea was so strong, it made Ken a believer too. He felt persuaded as he accompanied you to the jeweler to pick out a design. Curious as he spared time out of his day to get his teeth molded. And while he’d never admit it aloud, excited as he hand-delivered said mold to the jeweler alone because you were too busy gleefully bouncing on the balls of your feet to be of much help to him.

He could barely get you to sit still when the call came in informing you that the finished product was ready.

“Starting to regret my decision to make you wear this for the rest of the day,” you tell him, angling his jaw from left to right. “Feels like I’m punishing myself.”

“I feel like I look stupid,” he confesses with a shrug, unaware of how offended you’d get when he said it.

You’re bug-eyed, staring at him incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” He leans into his rearview mirror and pulls his cheek back with his fingers, surveying the piece fully before letting go with a soft pop. You, on the other hand, can’t believe your ears.

“Ken, smile.” He listens. You nearly moan. How could a man be so dense? “Babe.” You start laughing, really laughing, because the innocent hilarity of Draken— out of everybody on this fucking planet, Ryūguji Ken—thinking something had the capability to make him ugly is too good to ignore. “Ken you just- you have no idea.”

He truly doesn’t, brows pulled together as he regards you with visible confusion. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about them all day.”

This, he knows. You’ve been at his side the entire day, but he can list on one hand the amount of times you’ve looked at him without your gaze falling to his mouth and lips. “You don’t think I know that?”

“About you eating me out while you’re wearing them,” you clarify.

That… changes things.

“Wow.” The shock lasts only for a second. “That’s what you’ve been thinkin’ about?” Reaching up, he holds your face the same way you held his earlier, but it feels different. More forceful from the strength he has over you. He leans into your face, taking notice of the hearts in your eyes and how they’re lidded. “Yeah, there isn’t shit in that pretty head of yours but my tongue, huh? Want me to make you cum on it?”

Your answer is a meek nod of the head, but he won’t accept it. You were too bold a second ago to chicken out now. “Use your words,” he commands, authority in his tone reminding you that any power you hold over him is what he allows. That any power you hold over him can be stripped away. Easily.

“I want it, Ken,” you whisper back to him. “I want you.”

So said, so done.

You’re under him before you know it, his head nestled between your legs like he was drowning and your cunt was the only source of oxygen left. He’s had you every way imaginable: on your back with your legs wrapped around him like a necklace, from behind where he spat in your ass, slurped the wad up when it started to drain down to your cunt, and laughed when you twitched and a reverse where he’s the one lying flat and you’re on top, riding his stiffened tongue like it’s a job you get paid for. It’s baffling how many positions he can mold you into, cramped up in the backseat of your car like that, but it’s nothing to him. With Ken if there’s a will, there is a way.

The way right now is on your back, one leg haphazardly propped over his shoulder with your toes folded against the car door, and the other dangling precariously off the edge of the seat, the towel he placed beneath your ass out of respect for the leather seats useless since you’ve soaked it through completely. And Ken? Ken’s sandwiched between both of your hickey-littered thighs, smiling up at you like an idiot.

“Still with me, baby?” He doesn’t expect you to answer; you’re busy using what little brain power you have left for motor function, rolling your hips greedily to the lazy pace his index and middle fingers set. But before you can even think to, Ken taps two fingers of his freehand against the hood of your throbbing clit roughly, laughing at the speed in which you wet the pads. “There you are.” His wide grin grows wider at your reaction to the gold in his mouth, knowing that they’re the cause of the fresh wave of slick gushing from your messy hole. “So fuckin’ nasty,” he whispers and then dives in, because he’s not one to waste a meal when it’s prepped so nicely.

It’s hard to tell whether your boyfriend loves you or hates you when he goes down on you.

Sure, there’s traces of devotion in the way he kisses your clit, but you can’t deny the menace present in his attention when he gives the nub harsh sucks, grazing its swollen skin with the bluff of his teeth. Trying to run from him and his affection is futile too; your ass and thighs carry the dull sting of what happened when you tried that. Your best bet is to receive what he gives you—no matter how he gives it.

“Ken!” The sound that comes from your throat is a toss between a mewl, a moan and a whine as his tongue laps at your puffy folds, fingers twitching limply at the feeling of the hot muscle working its way through your slit with vulgar finesse. And when his tongue isn’t moving you can count on his fingers to, large digits building a mind-fogging rhythm within you.

And just when you start to think it’s over, that maybe, just maybe, he managed to tire himself out between your legs, you prop yourself up on your elbows and peer down at him as he slides his fingers out of you completely, calluses sodden with your arousal. “Baby?”

“Hm?” Ken won’t even look at you, eyes locked wholly and unmoving on your cunt. You’re about to ask him what he’s doing, but you find out soon enough when he puckers his wet lips, allowing a fat wad of spit to pour out on his fingers and fucks them right back into you, relishing in the loud squelch that comes from it, as well as the way your walls clench filthily around him. “Lie back down, princess. Haven’t had my fill yet.”

“Oh,” you moan weakly, falling back into the seat like he told you to.

The reward for your obedience comes fast when his hand shifts, sending him up against that spot inside you that makes you squeal, writhe, then thrash as he hits it again. And again. And again.

The fourth time tells you this is no fluke, the fifth (unfairly accompanied by the return of his mouth on you) tells you to find something to hold onto.

That’s how you reach for his hair, weaving through the black strands and tugging a fistful upward, though you’re not sure whether you’re trying to pull him closer to you or farther away. Either way, your boyfriend doesn’t budge, pain turning him on more than it’s supposed to deter him. He moans face deep into your pussy, sending an overkill of vibrations to an already oversensitive bundle of nerves.

You won’t last long—no way you could think to with him scissoring your cunt like this, tongue circling around your clit as he licks, sucks and spits on it. It all makes for a cohesive kind of messines. The sloppier he makes you, the easier his fingers can move, always lubricated by a flurry of spit, cum or a mixture of the two. Every slosh coming from between your legs is louder than the last, the sound eventually trumping all others in the car.

It’s obscene, it’s lewd and it’s.. going to make you cum.

“Ken, I-oh fuck-I!�� Words evade you, but you don’t need them.

Not when he’s there to pick up every cue you give and meet you halfway, thumb reaching up to rub quick circles onto the hardened nub he’s been toying with all day. “I know, baby. Just give it to me. Cum pretty on my tongue like you always do.”

Your hand shoots to his wrist, but you don’t have strength to do much else, face and body locked in a pleasureful chronostasis that a few more swipes brings you right out of. Back arched, legs jerking, hips bucking, walls fluttering—both around his fingers and his tongue—you cum into Ken’s awaiting mouth, sobs rising and dying while he swills down every bit of your juices that come streaming from your spasming hole. He even goes as far as to put his lips to your pussy and suck on it, as if you were somehow holding out on him and he was coming to collect the full thing himself.

It’s not until you intervene and push his head away that he actually moves, your leg sliding off of his shoulder as he hauls himself up to hover over your shuddering body. The smirk on his face is shit-eating.

“You were right,” he admits, teeth slowly creeping out from their hiding place behind his plump lips, gold overcoming the prominent pink in increments. “These don’t look so bad on me after all.” Sunlight filters through the car glass the same time he speaks, breaking through his hair and enveloping his body in an ethereal glow like a spotlight.

There’s nothing on him that it doesn’t catch. His chin completely drenched by your wet, his hair matted down to his forehead from the thin sheen of sweat covering his body, and of course it doesn’t miss his golden grin, competing with the smile for the right to blind you.

By the time the sun retreats into the clouds, your thighs are clamped shut, the slick spread thickly between them completely new as you gaze up at your lover, stunned dumb by his beauty.

Devilish men really shouldn’t look so angelic.

leo x reader relationship and intimacy hcs pt 2

As with all steamy/nsfw works all characters are 18+

1.2k

Sooo

Let’s get started ‘,:)

Aight i’m gonna say it if i haven’t before i genuinely don’t remember-

Leo and Nico are tied for first place in terms of stamina

Percy is in a close second and he’s very salty about it

And pretty much everyone else is within the reasonable to high stamina zone

So this boy could just

He’s non stop

Relentless

Insatiable if you will

Aka at least a little horny all the time 

But like in a sweet way

He loves you so much it’s always coming from a place of wanting to be close to you and make you feel good

Loves to go down on you

A lot

Like could spend hours between your legs

And has at least once or twice

Goes apeshit when he’s going down on you and you grab his hair

I have a personal headcanon that he’s great at rapping seamlessly between spanish and english so uh 

Do with that what you will

To quote min yoongi, Leo’s got some tongue technology

And knows how to use it

You never fail to return the favor though

The only word that comes to mind for him is euphoric

He’s come to the conclusion that he can’t compare which is better, when he goes down on you or vice versa

It’s apple orgasms with the hottest person in the world and orange orgasms with the hottest person in the world

They’re different but both fucking fantastic

He holds your hand a lot in the bedroom

Like he’s pretty grabby

We can all agree on this

But as soon as one of his hands finds yours, he doesn’t let go

The other one will kind of roam around jumping from place to place cause he can’t get enough of you

But his other hand will be locked with yours, fingertips brushing lovingly against your knuckles, thumb rubbing the side of your hand

Makes out with you a lot when things get heated

Like a lot

He’s very kissy

Doesn’t like positions or situations where he can’t kiss you nearly as much

If you get embarrassed or flustered by eye contact he kisses your neck and collarbones more

You being comfy is his top priority

Also I feel like I need to mention

Demigods either have massive horse choking schlongs or ultra gorilla grip coochies

Like “shouldn’t logically be able to fit but can bc of god magic” kinda dicks

I’m talking exclusively buying durex xxl xtra wide xtra long condoms

This goes for all the fellas

You can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands

Or could if I was capable of being killed

Anyway

Shopping for stuff is always fun with him

You two end up laughing and giggling like middle schoolers in a sex ed class

Not in like a tee hee sex is scandalous way

But I feel like being able to laugh abt stuff w your partner is rlly important 

Also sex doesn’t always have to be super serious all the time yk??? 

“raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens” “sticking my dick in rotisserie chickens” is funny for a reason yk

Plus there’s not much you wouldn’t be able to laugh about with Leo 

I ended up writing a one shot about last minute condom shopping with leo by accident so i’ll link it once it’s posted

God help me

He dances with you a lot

Does he feel you up and grind a little??

Or a lot???

Yes

More like a lot

Definitely a lot

Especially in the kitchen

He thinks dancing in the kitchen is really cute

You’ve gotten a lot better at dancing since being with him

He also likes giving you piggy backs cause you have full access to his neck

Do with that what you will

Especially if it’s neck kisses and hickeys

Any way shape or form he can be physically close to you he will

And he loves it

Still doesn’t 100% expect you to reciprocate his feelings

Little ones like loving to cuddle you and instigating it

Cause like

Have you met you

Thinks you’re so fucking beyond incredible

He still doesn’t really know how he got you

He can’t think about it too much or it freaks him out

He just ends up giving you a lot of attention when that happens

Usually pulls you aside somewhere to make out

If you get asmr tingles easily

He’ll take full advantage of it

He’ll whisper shit really close to your ears and you just like

Get anime spiky shivers all over your body

Emotional intimacy is also like a huge turn on for him

Like that one scene from new girl (2:10)

So like dirty talk is fun or w/e

But if you really wanna get him riled up

Just kinda run your hands up and down his chest 

Rest your head on his shoulder

And whisper about how much he means to you

“I love being around you”

Leo: on

“You make me really happy”

Leo: on

“I dunno what I’d do without you”

Leo: on

“You’re so important to me” 

Leo: on

Punctuate it with a kiss and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck

Leo: fucking on

Make sure to take a lot of pictures and videos of him and the two of you

Cause he gets a lot of pictures of you

Like a lot

He likes using a polaroid cause he can physically hold them, yk

He has one or two physical pictures of his mom that mean a lot to him

Once you got a butt ton of copies of those two pictures made for him

“Just in case something happened, this is too important to lose”

He hugged you so fucking tight

He’s surprisingly good at photography and shooting videos

Like he has good instincts behind the camera

You’re really surprised when you notice there’s not one picture he’s taken of you that you hate

You each probably have at least a few hickeys somewhere at any given time

Also if I haven’t brought this up yet

Leo in just his boxers is uuuuuh

Really really nice

You usually see him like that one of three (or four) times

He’s either gonna be hovering over you with his hair in his face taking in the sight of you before things escalate further

Lying on his stomach tangled in your sheets first thing in the morning, still reeling and blissed out from the night before

His back muscles also look especially nice then

Or standing behind you kissing your neck while you pour some coffee, his hands on your waist under his shirt you’re wearing

Or, bonus, when you’re straddling his hips, his face bright red as you roll your hips just the right way to get him to buck up a little, and he stops biting his lip to tell you to stop teasing him

To which you happily comply

A lot

I’m gonna stop here or i’ll just go on and on forever and never stop

Just like leo

🧹what kind if witch do you think you'd be?

hey bestie!!!! ur so smart 4 putting the question w it, thank u 💛💛💛💛

I'd b the kindof witch that's Known in town for helpin everyone out!! I'd probs run a bakery w my wives and our familiars, (one of my wifes is a witch, the other is a rly good baker!!!) nd a few lil witchlings that either need a place or some xtra funds

if ppl r ever short on cash or like sadly put smth back, or say mb next time, I'd always give it to em w a smile, and tell em it's on the house, dear :~)) bc we have 2 look out for each other

I'd make spells nd potions nd have a study w a bunch of lavender nd amethysts arnd, w purple lighting and curtains, kinda like my lil crafts room in ac!! old, dark wood furniture, and knickknacks nd tchotkes n trinkets I've collected thru the yrs!! like maximalism but w purples instead of greens

I'd b rly pretty nd have an aysmmetrical bob, nd could speak cat, nd to other animals/creatures

I'd have a bunch of cute tattoos, some magical, some not, nd ofc my hair would b a lilac!! I'd have lil dangle earrings that r topaz wrapped in 2 silver half-bands that end in a slant, nd I'd have a ruby necklace nd a rose quartz choker (topaz for u, one of my wives, nd then a rose quartz for the other, and a ruby for my familiar (socks)

my own lil witchshop (witch workshop) would b connected to the bakery by a magic door, but would actually b in a building down the road. I think I'd have a hmc door system goin on, or smth close to it.

I'd deal w herbs n spices, nd also b able 2 invoke my magic to emanate elements like light, fire, water, lightning, etc, nd I'd use it 2 b showy or help cook n stuff!!! magic is all abt imagination and intend, so like!!! rly if I put my mind to it, I can do just abt anything, given practice, time, nd resources

I'd b a witch who loves and helps others, and I'd make my goals to make others both in and out of my life happier, and to lead easier lives. I'd b rly confident nd bubbly, nd sure of myself, and I'd wear a big pointy, curly witch hat when I went out, nd it would have lil danglies, nd a charm on tied near the tip of it, nd socks would run alongside me n help out, bc he's my emotional support boy!!! but he's also my familiar :~)))

Can I get a cocky Trevante being out in his place by a big girl he was chasing after a bet with his friends? Like ... I love him but I neeeeeds this one.

“I genuinely don’t know who the fuck you thought you were dealing with but I’m not the one to fuck with, okay?” You stood in front of Tre, the house silent since your outburst had caught the attention of most of the people at the party.

“Sweetheart, what are you on about?” He attempted to reach out towards you and you smacked his hand away. You took a step back and crossed your arms, your eyebrows had rose to your hairline.

“Whatever fucking game you thought you were gonna play with me, it’s done. I know about that dumbass bet you made with your backwards ass, ass licking, dick riding ass friends and let me tell you, I’m more than unimpressed.”

There a few murmurs and sheer embarrassment covered Tre’s face. If he’d been lighter he would be red as a cherry. “Babe, let’s just go somewhere private and talk about this.”

You chuckled and shook your head, making your way to walk around him. “I’m honestly sick of you fucking frat boys thinking that you respect women when you obviously can’t even respect women you don’t find attractive. What type of backwards bullshit is that?”

“I am attracted to you. Look, I know it was a bet but—“

“But what? You fell in love with me? Saw the real me? Boy, fuck you. Had you really even been a decent person you would have realized that I’m a human being and not some dumbass social experiment you and your friends could laugh at when it was over.”

Tre gulped as you turned to his group of friends. “Let’s not even y’all about how Dennis’ little dick ass has made multiple attempts to make me his secret fuck buddy. I have screenshots so don’t test me.”

Trevante pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t how it all was supposed to go. You weren’t even supposed to find out. Yeah, he’d grown to really like you but why call off the bet when he could have you and a little bit xtra cash in his pocket. You seemed so nice and quiet but strong and fierce. He now sees how fierce you can be.

“I really don’t know what you expected to happen. Like I don’t. You thought we were gonna ride off into the sunset with me completely oblivious to the nature of the situation? You know I have ears, right? You know when you’re on the phone I can hear you, right? You know that your homeboys have the biggest fucking mouths and can’t keep shit to themselves, right?”

“Baby, please...” his voice cracked slightly and you laughed. His eyebrows knitted together. Did she really just laugh?

“Oh, are you gonna cry? Fuck you. You get no type of sympathy for me. You put yourself in this fucking situation. Now get one of these desperate ass girls to warm your bed for the next couple of nights and kiss my fat ass.”

With that you pushed your way through the crowd, when a girl didn’t wanna get out of your way you bucked and she flinched. You turned to Tre and pointed to her. “Oh look, a double pussy for a double pussy. Hope you got a strap on.”

Back to the streets- 017

Head- Genus Project- Classic Head 001- [Mainstore]

Hair & Base- Babe- Lux Hair and Base- [THE GRAND]

Earring- Xtra- Zodiac Playboa- [Marketplace]

Phone- Movement- LED Cell- [Mainstore]

Watch- November- Menace Diamond Watch- [LEVEL EVENT]

Body- Inithium- Kupra Body- [Mainstore]

Bra & Thong- Majesty X Rossi- Back To The Streets Set- [CAKE DAY]

♥

Pose- Foxcity- Selfie 2 Pose Pack- [Mainstore]

Backdrop- Foxcity- Rose Bathroom (Selfies)- [Mainstore]

hi hehe can i get a taehyung getting nervous for a new piercing (wit jungoo) n then he gets Xtra nervous when he sees yn (aka his ex-classmate he hasnt seen in years but has had a crush on her on b4 yanno) in parlour as His Piercer lmao all in all just shameless flirty but nervous tae n sassy yn pls thank u in advance!!

send me an au + boy and i’ll make a scene out of it

                                      ≿————-　❈　————-≾ 

Pairing: Taehyung x Piercer!Reader (Angel) (ft. Jungkook) 

Warnings: piercing, taehyung was one big cheesy dork, really this whole drabble is cheesssyy. 

                                       ≿————-　❈　————-≾

It’s be fine, he said. Nothing to worry about, he said. 

Jungkook led Taehyung into the piercing parlour on a calm afternoon. All he wanted was a little one on his brow while his friend wanted one on his nipple instead. Taehyung loved piercings but his sensitive places was a little too sensitive for needles. 

What he did not expect however was to have his old college crush be the one to stick things through his skin. 

Bloody hell she still looked so beautiful. Grey-ish blue hair reaching her shoulders, curled to perfection, rose pink lips with a winged liner so sharp it could cut through his heart. When she walked to the both of them, her smile had butterflies fluttering in his stomach. 

“Tae!” The sweetest voice rung in his ears. 

“Angel…” Taehyung spoke in a dream-like voice. “I—I wanted—I wanted a—what did I want?” He whispered to Jungkook. 

“He wants a piercing on his brows.” Jungkook smiled at the woman. 

Angels’ gorgeous eyes flickered from both men and settled on Taehyung. “Sure. I can do that for you.” 

“Thanks—” Taehyung chuckled nervously. 

As she turned on her heel, Jungkook whispered. “You need to chill, okay?”

“Says you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His brows furrowed. 

Taehyung raised a brow before looking behind Jungkook. “Oh look there’s Belle.” 

Jungkooks’ head shot so far to the right it may have snapped off. When there was no one there but a large tattooed man glaring at them, he let out a deep sigh. “I’m not—I don’t—shut up.” 

The two men were separated to their own rooms and Taehyung was now left alone with the beauty getting her tools ready. 

“This shouldn’t be too painful since you’ve done quite a few already.” Angel caressed his pierced earlobes before wiping sterilising agent over the skin near his left brow. “Did you still want a numbing gel though?” 

Taehyung almost didn’t catch her question but quickly snapped himself out of it. “Y-yeah that’s fine. Anything you want—” He chuckled. 

Angel smiled before placing the numbing gel and pushing him gently to lay down on the chair. 

Taehyung tried to fill the silence with a few conversations about what they had been doing since college. Even though it was pretty obvious what Angel was doing, he still wanted to hear her say it. Apparently she was also selling a few of her artworks to galleries which helped her live with a bit more luxury. 

“Can I be honest with you?” Angel asked. “It’s stupid now but—I kind of had a crush on you back in college.” 

His breath caught in his throat. “Wait, what?” 

“I know it’s silly to mention it now.” 

“No! No of course I—wait, you don’t have a crush on me anymore?” 

The girl stammered a little. “Well—we hadn’t talked for a very long time…and I don’t know I didn’t think you liked me back so I guess—I just didn’t think about it for a while until I saw you.” She shrugged. 

“Oh—” He chuckled nervously. “I had a crush on you too.” 

Angel paused her actions for a moment, meeting his gaze. “You serious?” She laughed. “Well—that would’ve been interesting.” 

“I mean—we are adults.” Taehyung cleared his throat. “We can always start going out whenever we want. Maybe like on Friday at 8?” He winced. 

The woman let out a small giggle. “I’d like that.” 

So maybe he didn’t regret this visit that much. 

WIP for pages 7-8

Aight the peeps have spoken, srry again it’s taking me so long.

❍—welcome to Jaehyun's bio .. !i

︶︶︶︶︶︶爱你们 : : :

🌑 ︶︶

⌇ ❑:: basics

➫ ｡ full name :: Jung Jaehyun

➫ ｡ nicknames :: Jaehyunie, Honey, xtra

➫ ｡ birthday :: 27th March, 2001

➫ ｡ nationality :: South Korean

➫ ｡ sexuality :: Heterosexual

➫ ｡ status :: In a relationship

⌇ ❑:: appearance

➫ ｡ height :: 5'10

➫ ｡ weight :: 144 pounds

➫ ｡ tattoos :: none

➫ ｡ piercings :: ears

➫ ｡ hair color :: brown

➫ ｡ eye color :: brown

⌇ ❑:: personality

➫ ｡ overall mood :: overall ⌁ He's a very sweet guy, on stage he may seem very intimidating and serious but he's nothing like that in person. He's quite the sweetheart. 

➫ ｡ rare mood :: actually pissed off

➫ ｡ likes :: Roses, food, youtube, naps

➫ ｡ dislikes :: overworking, shopping, HAVING to do things

➫ ｡ hobbies:: pranking, napping, going for runs

➫ ｡ habits :: Going a little too far with his pranks.

⌇ ❑:: Triva

➫ ｡ Began training in 2014

➫ ｡ Shares a room Akane

➫ ｡ Has one older brother Changbin

➫ ｡ Was scouted out due to his vocal skins and looks

➫ ｡ Dropped out

➫ ｡ Called Honey by Devin

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Candy by Dave Wakely https://ift.tt/306W3OW Dave Wakely's character has to look after his estranged fifteen-year-old daughter for a few days.

"God, you're so useless!" She stands before me, two skimpy candy-pink tops dangling from their hangers like the discarded skins of lurid reptiles, her ferocious glare expecting me to choose. Decisions, decisions... Luminous Lycra or acrylic machined-lace the colour of bubblegum. I scratch my chin while her right foot counts out the seconds on the rough concrete floor. Tap tap tap. This is her second day with me after half-an-hour's notice, after what passes for an explanation from her mother. Just a text, neither predictive nor predictable. Hasn't her daughter told her? Abbreviations are sooo last year.

Moved in new house but hv chickenpox + R on business in Singapore. B not had it. Don't kno neighbours so cant ask. Yr office sed u r on study leave, so sending her over w driver. Shd be ok in 2 wks. Will xfer £s to yr a/c. Spk later. J.

Since she arrived, we might still be in my town but we're in her world now. Mine never smelt of fast food and unisex perfumes. The lighting was kinder, and it was quieter there. How's a man to think? More to the point, what would the man she now calls Daddy do? Would he even allow her in a place like this? The tapping stops, and then comes the outburst. "You're supposed to be GOOD at this!" Her tantrum is, I understand, designed to drag me back into the moment. I've been lucky to escape so long. She lives for now, not for later, even if that's when most of her life is going to actually happen. At fifteen, hormones trump strategic thinking. Frankly, it's still a tussle at thirty-eight. For twenty minutes now, I've lurked in the shop's darkest corner while Bonnie has ransacked the rails, the gum-chewing sales assistant eyeing me like I'm an old paedo lurking behind a playground fence. Above my head, a speaker booms like the daytime disco Bonnie probably wishes she was in. Eddie would cope with this so much better than me. He usually says I'm trying to be kind when I tell him I envy his deafness, but right now... Still, it's her mother's money I'm spending, I remind myself, not mine. B nds new summer tops: put xtra £150 in yr a/c, this morning's text said. No sign-off - not even a J, let alone an x - but Jess has an encyclopaedia of reasons to hate me. My uselessness isn't news, just an echo sounding down the years. Whether I dress her daughter as a teenage hooker or a day-glo Edwardian vamp, it will be just another erratum slip tucked inside the bulging catalogue of my failures. I wonder if she ever reads them to Bonnie, bedtime stories with a pinch of deadly nightshade. Bonnie was twenty-three months old when Jess finally realised the main reason I'd spent the afternoon on the balcony, our baby girl cradled in my arms. Not to revel in the sunshine and the miracle of my daughter's existence, but for the view of the man next door and the shadows flickering across his sunburnt-pink back as his muscles danced the lawnmower to and fro. My life started then, or at least the life I lead now. I'd seen the pain in Jess's eyes when she gave birth, heard her screams, but I gave birth to myself - to the honest version - in the spare-room, on my own. No gas, no comforting hand, no drugs beyond the illicit. If Jess heard me cry, she didn't say. Tap tap tap... Bonnie's left foot jerks me back into the day once more. "Hold them up against you," I tell her, buying time I've no urge to spend. At least not here, not now. She holds first one hanger and then the other against her, arms signalling a bad-tempered semaphore. I admire her energy, but with every flourish of her elbows I get the message: I am rubbish, a desperate case. Eventually she pauses, the skimpier blouse's lacy material as transparent as her mood. "The other one?" I ask. "Just for a few seconds?" I watch her dial her loathing up another notch, glowering as she slams the second hanger against her collar-bones, letting the first fall to the floor. I expected Till Girl to complain, but she just scrolls her head from left to right like a security camera, purple hair swishing as she scans first Bonnie and then me. Her lip-stud winks with every grind of her jaw, a twenty-first century beauty spot. Maybe, behind her carefully applied overlay of tedium, she's as baffled as me. It's not just the fashions that I'm out of touch with: it's the girl. For twenty-four hours we've skirted each other, any moments in the same room an uneasy truce. I'm like a wary gardener, too daunted by the thorns to venture a nostril nearer to the rose. I've seen Bonnie grow, but in giant leaps rather than baby steps. Standing on the porch, face caught between smiling and blankness as I drove away in a borrowed car after six months of sleeping on an old sofa, stemming the draughts under the garage door with the boiler-suit I'd worn to half-finish painting her bedroom. Outside the divorce court three years later, beaming and waving as she held Roger's hand. "Daddy," she called out, till she was shushed into silence. "I'm right here, darling," I heard him say. Then at nine-and-a-half, when Jess's mum died and her father invited me to the funeral, still preferring me to Roger. Close enough to see her tug Jess's sleeve while she pointed at me, for Eddie to lip-read her mother calling me 'Uncle Desmond'. Since then, mostly snatches of conversation at weddings or old friends' parties before Jess or Roger could steer her away. Perfunctory paragraphs in Christmas cards, letters send via lawyers' offices. As I wait for her scowl to turn vocal again, I remind myself that I am the adult here, even if I'm not the precise adult either of us might have chosen. She knows me as little as I know her, and taking a gay man shopping hadn't turned out as fabulously - and that would be the word, wouldn't it? - as she'd hoped. I turn to Till Girl, her face dead-pan. "I need your help here," I tell her, shouting over the music. "This is Bonnie. She's fifteen years old..." "I'm nearly sixteen," Bonnie interrupts with a shrill squeak of outrage. "She was fifteen four months ago," I continue, hearing my voice coarsen into a bark. "Her mother's ill, so I'm looking after her. She needs a new top." I can feel my emotions bubbling like a percolator, finer manners sinking like silt. "One that doesn't make her look a total slut." As the words leave my mouth, I hear the shame under the rage, feel the realisation that it isn't really Bonnie I'm angry with. Till Girl flicks her tongue across her lip, a snake tasting the air. Contempt, or contemplation? One hand drops below the counter and the music abruptly dies. Bonnie is silent now too. The girl steps round from behind the counter, nods once at me and strides to a rail by the changing-room. "What size, please?" she asks, her crystal vowels a surprise. I motion Bonnie to reply. "Six," she mutters, absorbed in staring at her feet. Till Girl's fingers fly through a mass of hangers, pulling out a blue velvety creation with an asymmetric hem and sparkling embroidery. "This suits your colouring more," she tells Bonnie firmly, "and the cut will make you look taller. Slimmer." There's a subtle emphasis on the second adjective. "And I think you're more like an eight." She pushes open a changing room door and waits as Bonnie half-drags, half-stomps her way across the shop. As the door swings shut behind her, the girl raises one artfully-pencilled eyebrow at me and struts back to her counter. A seemingly eternal silence later, Bonnie re-appears, tugging down the shorter side of her new hem. Till Girl knows her stuff: she looks taller and more graceful, almost adult. Differently dressed, she has the beginnings of a figure, shaded and outlined without anything being underlined or underwired. "Well?" she says, more tremulous than truculent. Till Girl beats me to it. "Quite sophisticated, actually. Yes, I like that," she says. There's an undertone of surprise. "What does your father think?" "I think you look great," I say, before Bonnie can speak. Before she might deny my existence, or I might do the same. Even here where it would never matter, where it's already assumed, it seems an acknowledgement too far. "Not that my opinion matters, I suspect. I'm just the wallet carrier. Is there a younger man she might impress?" Till Girl almost smiles, and turns her head towards the back of the store. "Jamie!" Her shout would stir a catacomb. A boy of eighteen or nineteen shuffles out of the stock-room, all ear-tunnels, piercings and ink-black tattoos, halfway between Meccano and a badly-photocopied medieval map. He moves inside his baggy clothes like a man wrestling inside a duvet cover, the waistband of his unbelted jeans sitting below under-developed buttocks. There's a flash of gaudy yellow underpant, bright as cupcake icing, the only hint of sweetness he's allowed himself. "Trade Descriptions Act," Eddie always says when he sees a boy dressed like that. "If it's not for sale, don't put it in the window." Till Girl does her security-camera head-swivel thing at Bonnie, and then back to the boy. "Cool," he says, his voice as flat as Lincolnshire. "Wicked." Whether from shyness or lust, he rubs his palms on his thighs, a blush spreading through the few patches of bare skin left on his neck. Is this how straight teenagers flirt nowadays? It's like watching a wildlife documentary. Bonnie's face is as pink as the clothes she would have chosen, but she's clearly persuaded.

Twenty minutes later - after she's convinced us both that her new look requires black metallic leggings and, two stores down, petrol-blue patent leather stilettos that of course she insists on wearing - we walk the mall's marble walkways, a stable-hand leading a prize filly into the dressage ring. Each time I hear a pause in her erratic clip-clopping, I take her hand for a second before she teeters, sparing her more the embarrassment of toppling than the pain of a twisted ankle. I watch the eyes of teenage boys as we pass, scanning her like bar-code readers assessing some new exotic fruit. Whenever a woman Jess's age comes close, I try to read her expression as if I might read Jess's mind by proxy. As if I ever could. Bonnie's eyes dart from window to window, feverish with the shopping bug. Each time we stop, it's not the display I dissect but our reflection. The young woman, dumped on an almost-stranger but bursting to be happy. The gangly man in the biker jacket and faded 501s, sullen as a teenager and anxious to be somewhere else. And the way they avoid each other's eyes, stranded in a no-man's-land between anger and apology. We pause on the benches by the fountains in the open courtyard, faces splashed with spray, pretending that an icy slab of damp marble under our buttocks comes as some kind of respite. I take her picture on her phone so she can send it to Jess. My new look, her message says. Like it? B x. There's no reply. As we drift back into silence, I watch her attention scampering from one boy to another, so blatantly she triggers more blushes than smiles. Maybe this is the kind of moment Jess and Roger would never allow her, a chance to make mistakes. Perhaps she's even enjoying being here, with me, just a little. I police my own gaze more carefully. Here and there, middle-aged fathers sit with teenaged daughters, carrier bags at their feet and shoulders turned a fraction against each other, seeing the world at different angles. Maybe this is what teenage girls think fathers are for: for presents and treats, but not for company or conversation. "I'm sorry I made you lose your temper," Bonnie says, looking down at her feet as she breaks our silence. She's shaken off one of her new shoes and there's the start of a blister on her heel, already rising a livid red. "I'll buy you some plasters," I tell her. "Unless you want to put your trainers back on?" I pat the growing pile of carrier bags beside me. "Thanks," she mumbles, shaking her head, "but I can afford Elastoplast, at least." She takes my proffered tissue and folds it over, wrapping it round her heel before she slips the shoe back on, trying not to wince. "And I know me being here isn't your fault. Just 'cos Mum's using you doesn't mean I should. It's not like you're responsible for me or anything." I want to protest, though it would do no good. Jess didn't get herself pregnant: if I'm not responsible for her, who on earth is? Without me, Bonnie wouldn't be anywhere - wouldn't even be. But it's not what she means, and complaining won't help. Roger's her father now: I abdicated and I can't expect loyalty. "It's ok, I'm sorry too. I know I'm kind of the last resort," I tell her. "Like being promised a trip to the zoo to see the tigers and winding up in the reptile house with some cold-blooded thing staring at you through the glass." She looks as embarrassed as I feel. The fountains spray our faces with cold water as the silence grows again. "How about I treat you to something?" she asks me, suddenly a child again. A fifteen-year-old girl wanting to impress. "Have you ever had bubble tea?"

The concession stall is a cartoon-coloured laboratory of bubbling liquids in luminous columns. Their high-buttoned uniforms as white as surgeons', Asian boys barely older than Bonnie strain alien concoctions into transparent beakers, inscrutable stewards in a Martian cocktail bar. I scan the menu, pretending to understand. "Extra bottom, 50p," it declares. With Eddie, I could have pointed and laughed, but not now. I turn to Bonnie. "Help me out here?" "OK," she says, "are you more milky? Or more fruity?" "I guess I'm more the fruity type," I say, stifling a snigger I can't quite prevent. "Apple, if that's possible?" "How are you with things that burst in your mouth?" she asks, all wide-eyed curiosity, and I wonder if she's trying to provoke me, testing my boundaries, or if being fifteen is still as innocent as I dimly remember. The students I teach are older: nineteen, twenty... women, not girls, though their counterparts are still more boys than men. "I'll try anything once," I say. Her face stays straight. My offer to pay refused, I perch on a ridiculously tall barstool while she places our order, passing over her little sequinned purse from her backpack when she remembers her new outfit has no pockets. I watch how she keeps it hidden below the counter-line, too girly now for her chic ensemble, for the suddenly mature Bonnie. Young enough to blush and giggle, but old enough to play the scene to suit the audience. She passes me a see-through cup filled with something bile green. There are viscous black lumps clumped at its base and a thick purple straw sticking out like a drainpipe. Hers is a shade of lilac only chemicals could conjure, but she slurps at it happily. We swivel on our seats, our feet dangling in mid-air, two satellite dishes scanning the ether for different channels. "Go on," she teases. "Try it." I lower my head and suck. The glowing gunge fills my mouth, cold and thickly chewy. I give silent thanks that I've mastered my gag reflex, and swallow with what little elegance I can muster. "So, how does it taste?" she asks, apparently blind to my discomfort. Preoccupied with not throwing up, my manners go AWOL. "Like it looks," I mutter, scrambling for tissues to wipe stray globules from my chin. "Dragon sperm." I watch her roll her beaker across her cheek, either hiding a blush or cooling one, and wonder if I've gone too far. There's a pause before she replies, but no coyness in the question. "You recognise the flavour?" Her eyes signal a smile that's yet to reach her lips. "I've had... similar." It's taken twenty-four hours, but finally I've made her laugh. "You're much more fun than Roger," she tells me. "Or Mum. And it's ok - leave it if you don't want it."

The concrete park bench feels warmer than the mall's marble, although the landscaping's manicured scrubland is no more sincere. In the dogwoods behind us, I can hear the underground pump that sends the curiously tidy stream trickling down through the artificial hills. She wants me to choose a place for lunch, but where would she enjoy? I can hardly take her to The Taverners and spend an hour explaining the difference between bears and otters, cubs and twinks. That menu would mean as much to her as the bubble tea bar did to me. What have we got in common? She has my nose, my eyes, but it's only genetics. What do we share beyond a woman neither of us seem to love anymore and a weakness for letting our eyes wander over the bodies of men we don't know? Bubble tea might be thicker than water, but blood? I ask a question that I probably shouldn't. "So, what kind of boys do you like?" She looks a little flustered. I'm probably creeping her out more than earning her interest, but my mouth keeps moving. "I mean, what kind of boy do you dream of being with, one day?" I wonder if I'm blushing now. "Intelligent," she tells me. "Clever. Someone that reads. Proper books, not comics." Hardly the answer I expected, but heart-warming: maybe Eddie might like her after all. I won't tell him she asked me yesterday why I 'went for' a deaf guy, like he was something sub-standard I'd settled for. As if I'd told myself that was what I deserved. She didn't say it quite like that - although he did, once. "Just checking," he said afterwards. "Making sure." I wonder what she'd make of him, proof-reading in his brother's spare room to escape a girl he's pre-judged as shrill and vacant, if she got to know him. Maybe she'd see what I love, if she took the time to look. "Someone who cares about more than money and deals and profits and all that," she says. "Not like Roger." I feel an eyebrow rise and I struggle to keep it level. "Or like Mum. Thinking a turtleneck jumper or a squirt of scent covers everything. Even when it gives her away." My eyebrow drifts aloft like a balloon slipping from a child's hand. "Last time she farmed me out, she said she had a migraine..." Bonnie pauses, her face wondering if she should tell me. "When I got home, I sat on the sofa with her. The cushions smelt of cologne. I recognised it." She's looking down at her hands, her fingers knotting and unknotting. "It wasn't Roger's." She unclasps her hands and they lie in her lap, palms upturned. "Not that he's any better. Coming home late reeking of breath mints, a plaster over a love bite and some crap about cutting himself shaving." She looks almost like she's going to cry. I slip my arm round her shoulder and she nestles her head into my chest. I can't think of a thing to say. "So I'd like a proper man. Classy. Faithful." She's almost mumbling now. "Not like someone you'd find in a shopping mall then," I say. Her smile is half-embarrassment and all charm.

The canal-side bookshop café's an oasis after the mall, tables far enough apart for your conversation to be your own. Away from the neon and the noise, Bonnie's quieter too. We take a balcony table with a view out over the water, a gaggle of Uni students messing about in punts. She chooses mushroom risotto - no meat, Jess's texts had reminded me, she's veggie now, apparently - although she seems to live on Haribo and Diet Coke. She has a sweet tooth and the world is her candy store, eyes still darting from one man to another with the indiscretion of youth. Mine too, pretending to soak in the view but drawn more honestly to the rowers. One of them wears only cut-off jeans, torso already lobster-pink and shiny with sweat. He must have been in the water, thick hairs flattened against his legs, droplets catching the sunlight in his dense black beard. He could be a satyr from an old Greek vase: all he needs is a horn to blow. I barely register when Bonnie asks if I'd mind if she reads the paper, although I notice it's a broadsheet she brings back from the rack, unfolded to the crossword and pen in hand. "The waiter guy said it was ok," she says. "Although he doesn't think I'll manage it." I look occasionally as she starts to fill it in, resting the paper on the table's edge as she either writes in an answer or stares into space, temples lined in concentration as she grasps for solutions. My cheesecake devoured, my attention drifts back to the other temptations. I don't even notice when she gets up to go to the loo. It takes a second or two before I realise the insistent throb in my pocket is my mobile - another command from Jess, no doubt. But I'm wrong: it's a message on Grindr. "Well, this is kind of sweet ☺" There's no profile photo, just a name - Huxley92. Checking Bonnie's not back yet, I send a simple "?" "Her watching me watching you watching him." I'm scanning the room, trying to work out whose eyes are on me, whose fingers are tapping away. "Behind the counter. Goatee. Glasses. Reading Brave New World. Or pretending to ;-) As I turn my head, he smiles casually, paperback propped against a serviette dispenser. I recognise him now. Graham, a former colleague of Eddie's. Cheeky, Eddie says, and flirty with it, although it's only ever just words. We met at some Department evening, me joking with Eddie that every time I turned round I caught Graham pretending not to be looking at me. "Oh, you're his type," Eddie told me, laughing. "Scruffy." Then a pause that could have been shorter. "And gorgeous with it." He planted a theatrical kiss on my cheek, making sure Graham saw him pinch my arse. "She's my daughter," I type back. "It's complicated." "Sure is! Still, she has taste. You too, dude. Eddie's always said so." "Thx. I think." "She's coming back now, btw - you want coffees?" I nod, grinning sheepishly, before I'm distracted by a noise outside. The rower has capsized his boat and he's spluttering in the water, spitting out the rancid taste of city centre canal. As Bonnie sits back down, Graham's right behind her, bringing two large lattes. We each get a shot glass full of Smarties. "Enjoy," he says, as he glances over Bonnie's shoulder. Her crossword puzzle is complete, her handwriting all the more girlish for the pink pen she's been using. "Oooh, cryptic," Graham tells her. "I'm impressed. Where did you learn that?" He's looking at me as he speaks, and I could swear there was a wink. "This hip dude here?" Yep, definitely a wink. "It must just be genetic," she says, cool and coy. As I sip my coffee, I realise my phone is still on the table and Bonnie's been reading it out of the corner of her eye. I play it deadpan, face as inscrutable as an exam invigilator till she looks up at me. I nudge my glass of Smarties across the table. "You have these. My eyes are bigger than my appetite." She nudges them aside and smiles back. "Well drink up, then. We've got more window-shopping to do." She giggles as she reaches across the table to take my hand. Her mother's laugh, perhaps, but her father's sense of humour.

These people are entasked with saving the planet.. oh boi.  

Black Butler Ciel and Sebastian Figurine Collection-Review

I honestly don’t know much about these figures. I’m pretty sure that mine are knockoffs, so I don’t know if I can use the box to figure things out, and I can’t find much online... Based on the box these figures are a product of XTRA by tsume. It’s all a little confusing though...I think the language on the box is French. It translates to: “Tsume invites you to discover the work of Yana Toboso through beautiful collectible Black Butler collectibles.” and “The Xtra by Tsume figurines from Ciel and Sebastian are complete! Their compatible pedestals are the most refined duo in the world of manga.”. What makes me think they are knockoffs other than the language (It is possible that it is just a collab that I’m unaware of-Someone please help me with this!) is how the figures look themselves. I’ll go over this below, but essentially my issue is that they do not look like the product images from ‘official’ sources.

Price: I paid $25 for both together. 

Packaging: The two figures, even though they go together, do not come packaged together. Each has its own box. The boxes are quite simple (kind of flimsy) with no safety packaging within. I seem to remember that the figures were inside plastic bags, separate from the other accessories. However, they got knocked around a lot within the box itself. The outside of the box has the inside character on the front and back of the box, and then has pictures of the two characters combined on the sides. Each character box comes with accessories. Sebastian’s comes with a stand and his silverware. Ciel’s comes with his stand and a rose. One of them comes with a larger stand with the contract seal that they can both stand on. I don’t remember which box it was though. 

Ciel: The ‘official’ image above shows Ciel’s paint job to be much more rich and vibrant. My figure’s colors are a bit more dull. Rather than a royal blue, Ciel’s clothes are a jean blue color. I don’t mind the differences in color too much. I actually think he looks more realistic with this color change. Anyway, The figure is quite cute. I like the Ciel figure best of the two. His eyes are surprisingly accurate. There is something about the face/head that I don’t like, but I’m not too sure what it is. I think it may be how flat his hair is...? He comes with a tiny top hat that is decorated with a white and blue ribbon and roses. The roses in the above picture are blue, mine has much darker roses (gray/black). Around his neck is a collar of white lace. The lace around his collar, neck-bow, and wrists each have the same embroidery. It’s a little hard to see the embroidery on the lace at his neck because it is on the side that faces towards his neck. He does have buttons on his vest, and a frog and chain on his jacket, as well as a painted pocket at his breast. However, those details are a little...messy. It really doesn’t look that much better in the image above, so that makes me somewhat relieved. I think it would have been better had they given the frog and chain a little more texture so it didn’t look like an afterthought. This figure does not come with the appropriate seams with very few exceptions. Honestly, I was shocked to find that there was a seam indicating his pants opening. He has white socks and brown shoes with black and silver buckles. He has one of his rings on, but is missing his thumb ring (not that you would be able to see it), and he does not have earrings. The rose is a cute accessory-it is done in much deeper red and green than pictured above. 

Sebastian: He has a horse face. Sebastian’s face annoys me. I can already tell I’ll be having Ciel facing the outside of the display when I get my curio set up. Sebastian’s face is just really long and thin. I realize that this is how he is supposed to be, but this figure seems to have taken things a little far. Or, perhaps, it is the positioning of his head that gives off this sense of wrongness. Despite this, his facial expression is quite nice. His eyes are spot on. Some of his hair is a little chunky (probably looks that way due to the face shape), but it is also mostly accurate. Some of the hand painted (I assume) parts of his suit are a little messy. My Sebby also has what appears to be a crack down his hand. The hand that faces outwards is supposed to have more detail than mine does, but is missing much of that. I may end up fixing that myself later since it is very glaring. His suit is actually decent. He has all of his silver parts (pin, buttons, fob watch), and they looked quite detailed. His fob watch chain is even braided and ends in his pocket as it should. Sebastian doesn’t have all of his seams either, but he does have more than Ciel does. Also, some of his creases make it look like he has seams, so it’s not so bad. I’m not sure what to think about his crotch area...don’t ask. His shoes appear to be detailed enough, but it’s hard to tell with all of the shiny black being the same color and all. His other hand also looks poorly painted. Sigh. He comes with 6 pieces of silverware (3xknives, 3xforks). I haven’t tried putting them in his hands yet. I’m hoping it doesn’t go poorly. I’m worried about having to take him off the base to put in the knives that go behind his back. I’m not looking forward to that.

Overall: I actually do like these figures. They’ve never been on the top of my list of figures to buy. The only reason I bought them now is because I had money that needed to be spent immediately, and not enough to get a better quality item. The imperfections (most of them) are not overly apparent unless you get up close. The only major issue that I found is the crack in Sebastian’s glove. I think I can cover that with paint. We’ll see. They are not the best quality, but they are cute. I especially adore that they can share the same stand. I have zero intention of putting them on separate stands. This is just so perfect. The only problem is if I have to remove them from their stands. They were horribly difficult to put on their stands. Even now they are coming up off them. I may have to get some sticky stuff to tack them down. It doesn’t help that you have to kind of force apart their legs to get them onto the pegs. Sigh. Anyway, I do recommend these to any Kuro collector. However, I would get them towards the end of your collection, or when you just have a few dollars in your pocket. I certainly would not spend more than $20 or so for the set (unless the official version is better) though.