Visit Blog
Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.
#they are very cute even if they are invasive
adobe-outdesign · 14 days ago
Photo
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
[8/11/20] European Wool Carder Bee, Anthidium manicatum.
These guys steal fuzz off of plants and use it as nest lining.
145 notes · View notes
therenlover · 6 hours ago
Text
The Boy With The Easel (A Young Artist!Helmut Zemo x Reader Oneshot)
Tumblr media
(Hey! If you end up enjoying this fic, it’s the first chronological part of a new fun expanded AU I’ve created with @creme-bruhlee​! Their fic Bliss is part of the same timeline and takes place about a year after this one, so you should check it out!!!)
Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.
Tags: Meet Cute, College AU, First Meetings, Coffee Date, Artist!Zemo, Embarrassment, Awkward College Kids Falling In Love
Rating: T
Warnings: Very Vague Mention of Sexual Content, Swearing, Zemo Says The Word Daddy In Reference To His Father and The Reader Thinks It’s Kinda Hot
Word Count: 7000~
This fic has been crossposted to my AO3!
------
                                    The University of Novi Grad
                                                 Fall 1996
Mornings in Novi Grad could be beautiful if you knew what to look for.
Sokovia was… different from America in many ways. From the language to the scenery, you often found yourself adrift in the strangeness of it all. There had been nothing quite as old as the buildings in the historical district of Novi Grad back home, no towering grey behemoths serving as a reminder of a bygone fight against Soviet invasion in the memories of your childhood. Still, though, there was beauty in the strangeness nonetheless.
From your tiny room in the Helena Lyudmila International Scholar’s dorm, for instance, you had a perfect view of a large campus courtyard hosting a statue of the donor by the same name. She was some royal who had invested in education a few hundred years ago, and by the looks of her metal likeness, she had been quite pretty. The sight of her shining in the early morning sun was one of the things that made uprooting your whole life seem worth it in the end, no matter how silly that seemed.
There were other small comforts that you had found beauty in during your first month attending your prestigious university, too.
You found beauty in the way the sunlight streamed over the rooftops like the opening to an Oscar-winning film. In the sound of traffic below and the overcast skies above. Sandwiches from corner stores, wildflowers growing in the median of the road, cups of the worlds best black coffee served steaming by scowling attendants at the cafe; Everywhere there was something small and kind and just familiar enough to relish in, more than able to distract you from the stress of living hand-to-mouth in a country where you didn’t even know the language. It made it all worth it.
That being said there was something else too…
Someone else to be specific.
The campus tended to run like clockwork. The same groups of students would walk past your window to their classes, the same professors would get their coffee and lunch at the little cafe across the square, and every weekday morning at 8 am on the dot, easel boy would set up his palette and canvas and paint the same bustling street.
He was talented, that you couldn’t deny. Even from the 6th floor, which was a considerable distance away, it was possible to admire the detailing and consistency with which he painted. His talent wasn’t when kept you captive at your window in the morning, though. Though you were sure his art was beautiful, he himself was a thousand times more stunning.
All dark eyes and dark hair and dark clothes, he parted crowds with his piercing gaze alone. He was always dressed like the protagonist of some awful artsy film. Massive argyle sweaters, untucked button-ups, corduroy jackets, and flare bottomed pants that must have survived his father’s wardrobe from the ’70s… his style was as close you could get to atrocious while still being impeccable as possible, and that wasn’t even getting started on the smudged black liner always present under his persistent gaze. You had never had the pleasure (or embarrassment for that matter) of meeting him in person, but you were sure that you would have had the same awed and slightly frightened reaction if you ever did. He could have been plucked entirely from the pages of some awful romance novel.
You were well and truly smitten with the idea of him.
If you looked at your morning routine through the eyes of a stranger, you’d consider yourself odd for your strange obsession with him, but you didn’t look at it like that. It wasn’t an obsession. You never overstepped your bounds. He was simply pleasing to look at and so you did. That didn’t constitute as obsessive, right?
Even if it did, you weren’t causing any harm.
Easel boy, as you had come to refer to him, was simply a tool you used to ground yourself in your new and frightening environment. Nothing more. If you ever met him, you would surely hate him from the short interactions you’d seen him have with strangers. They never ended well. He would remain an unattainable, attractive ideal in your mind until he eventually faded away into a funny memory you’d share with your kids one day.
Until then, though, you would watch him from your window before your morning classes and refused to feel guilty about it. So, that was that, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
On the morning in question, you had woken up a little late and in a foul mood. In preparation for a test in your foundations of algebra course you had spent the better part of the night pouring over formulas while your upstairs neighbor’s bed slammed repeatedly into the wall and floor. Though you were sure they were having an excellent time, you were most definitely not. It all culminated in you missing your original alarms and despite the fact that your first class started at 10, you were exhausted, furious, and not looking forward to missing breakfast to finish the assigned reading you had put off the night before. The only thing keeping you from throwing in the towel and just giving up was the promise of seeing the painter.
So, when he arrived for the day at 8 am sharp, you were positioned at the ledge by your window, textbook in hand with a mug of instant coffee at your right. It was like a breath of fresh air.
As usual, he retrieved a small pack of cigarettes from the back of his eternally paint-stained jeans only to bring one to his lips and light it quickly. He always smoked before he worked, and just like always, he took an extra cigarette from the pack to tuck behind his ear for later. Then, he got to work setting up his easel and the small stool where he set his palette.
Pulling tubes of acrylic, brushes, and pencils from his well-worn messenger bag, easel boy flipped out the kickstand without any problem and set his thick, pre-primed canvas on the worn metal. You watched in fascination. Art had always seemed so unattainable to you. Instead, you were drawn to the more academic. The man before you, though, created beauty with an ease that had evaded you all your life, and it had you both jealous and entirely intrigued. Slowly, you reached down to take a sip of your coffee as you let your eyes drift back to your reading.
Learning about ancient Babylon was far less interesting than watching him, though.  
When you next looked out the window and away from your work the handsome artist had created his base sketch already. How did he do it so fast? You assumed it was practice. He had been drawing the same 3 buildings every weekday morning for at least a month, so after a while, it must have been second nature to measure out the lines and put things into perspective. You smiled. He tended to have that effect on you.
The process was repeated until a little before 9:30. You would read a few paragraphs then look up to watch the painting progress from a sketch to a full-fledged work of art. It was good today from what you could see. The colors were a bit more muted than usual, but that was only on account of the awful, dreary overcast sky that threatened to dump rain on the city at any time. Overall, you would have considered it a masterpiece. Easel boy didn’t seem to think the same.
He regarded the painting with a sort of begrudging satisfaction that bordered on disappointment before he pulled the second cigarette from behind his ear, lit it, and began the process of packing up his materials. You finished the last of your coffee watching him do so. Smoking, well, smoking tobacco at least, had always been a vice you had avoided and yet you often wondered what it would feel like to take a drag of one of his cigarettes after it had been between his lips. Then, the magic lifted.
He folded up the flimsy easel, tucked it away with his materials back into his messenger bag, hoisted the stool under one arm and the painting under the other before taking off at a brisk clip down the street away from your window. You watched him until he was out of sight.
You were snapped from your concentration by a knock at your door.
“Y/N,” a heavily accented voice called, sending you scrambling for your bag, “If you are not outside in the next 15 seconds I will break down your door,”
Shit.
“Coming, Sasha!” You wailed. It took about 10 of those seconds to grab your backpack and shove your textbook inside, an extra 2 to check your appearance in the mirror- you looked slightly disheveled, but it was the best you were gonna do after the night you’d had. Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing anything important. You didn’t need to be dressed for a date -and you were opening the door for a quick save at the 14th second. Your door was safe for another day.
Out in the hall waited Sasha Balandin, arms crossed and grey eyes piercing in the flickering light of the terrible overhead fluorescents. As a fellow international student, you had become fast friends with Sasha. He was a little rough around the edges, and definitely didn’t take your bullshit, but he was a rare friend. “I have been waiting for 10 minutes,” he griped. You tried your best to look apologetic. “Don’t do that,”
“Do what?” You asked, closing and locking your door behind you as you began walking down the hallway.
Sasha huffed. “Do not pretend you were not too busy ogling that painter in the courtyard to hear me knocking on your door,” His Russian bluntness was on full display now as you shook your head in mock disbelief.
“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of something like that!”
“It is not an accusation if it is true,”
“There’s no way you know for a fact that I was watching him again,”
“But you were. This happens every week,”
You sighed, pausing at the top of the stairs. “I was,”
Taking the stairs in twos, Sasha sighed. “You are too soft, Y/N. Besides, you have said so often that he seems like an asshole. Why do you continue to get all mushy at him out the window if this is the case?”
“Because… well, because…” for a moment, you floundered in search of an answer that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete freak, but you found that there really wasn’t one. It came down the one small factor. “He’s just really hot, okay?”
The look Sasha gave you could have killed. He kept his mouth shut, though, choosing to let his silence shame you more than anything else did. It worked. For the entire trip down the stairs and the mile-long walk to your lecture hall, you felt the weight of shame heavy on your shoulders. Or maybe it was just your backpack. You didn’t know which you’d prefer. He did start speaking again eventually, going on about some party you had missed in favor of studying, but the feeling never left. Even as you sat down for your lecture it was still at the forefront of your mind. In fact, you were so busy thinking about your crush on easel boy and the problems with it that you barely paid attention to the professor’s rehashing of the Epic of Gilgamesh.
Your error only hit when the professor flipped the PowerPoint to the final slide.
“Before you go, I want to remind you that you have a paper on the importance of Enkidu in the Epic is due at the beginning of class this Friday. The details and requirements should be listed in your syllabus. Class dismissed,”
Fuck.
Friday was only two days away.
You were so screwed.
The problem was, you didn’t have a spare copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh just lying around your dorm room. Usually that wouldn’t have been an issue, the professor for your current history course used English for her slide because her particular history course was specifically for first-year international students. Unfortunately for you, though, you hadn’t been taking notes. Instead, you had been daydreaming about how it would feel to have easel boy blow his cigarette smoke in your face and then subsequently scolding yourself for having thoughts like that about a total stranger. In a terrible twist of fate, the professor only held office hours after her last classes on Mondays and Fridays, so even getting the information from her then was off the table. Dread began to pool in your stomach.
Any other student would have been able to cut their losses, rent a copy from the library, slog through it in a night, and write the damn essay even without the help of the classroom slides for context. The only problem was all the books in the library were in Sokovian, and you still barely knew how to order a coffee correctly. Reading the language in a full Cyrillic alphabet would just be impossible, especially for a book as stupidly old as the Epic of Gilgamesh.
In short, unless you could get your hands on a copy in the next day or so, you were absolutely, well-and-truly fucked.
Sasha was quick to find you as the hall cleared out, waiting near your seat as you packed away your notes. “That was all bullshit, no?” He asked, but the second he took in your slightly panicked expression he stopped short, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply. You knew what he was going to say before he ever said it.
“Something is wrong. You were not paying attention. Were you thinking-”
“Yes. Okay? Yes, I was thinking about him,”
He shook his head slightly. “I am concerned for you,”
“Who isn’t?”
Despite his usually stoic demeanor, that made Sasha huff out a soft laugh. “You got yourself into this mess, Y/N, you will get yourself out somehow,”
Your jaw dropped as you slung your bag over your shoulder and started making your way towards the door. “You’re not gonna help me?”
“Though I would love to be helpful, you forget that my English is poor. It will do me better to read the book in Sokovian myself than to use the information from class,”
Oh, yeah. You winced. “Sorry, Sash’”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he shrugged as you walked out onto the lawn, chilled to the bone by the wind that whipped in every direction.
A storm was brewing. It might not fully take hold of the city for a few hours yet, but it would make the walk to your evening class absolute hell if the rain fell as hard as it had several weeks prior. You could only hope that it wouldn’t start until after you had walked home. Your odds were looking slim, though, based on the way you could already hear thunder clapping in the distance. After a moment you hit the edge of the sidewalk where your paths would diverge.
“Good luck with the paper,” you offered weakly.
Sasha replied with a sharp, “Good luck with your crush,” and then he was off in the opposite direction without another word. Sasha was blunt like that, never overstaying his welcome or lingering when he didn’t need to. There was something enviable about it. What you wouldn’t give to be able to simply say things as they were without an unnecessary sugar coating to save face and spare feelings. It lingered on your mind for the whole half-mile walk to the campus bookstore. Speaking of which...
There was only one place where you might possibly find an English copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh. It wasn’t the big student bookstore, most of the textbooks there had been in Sokovian, Russian, or German and you hadn’t even tried to set foot in their actual book section. No, your only hope was the tiny hole-in-the-wall bookstore you had stumbled upon during move-in. It was only about half a mile away from your dorm from any of your lecture halls, so you often found yourself wandering inside when you had time to kill. They were one of the only stores you’d come across that sold anything in English, magazines included, so despite the fact that the young cashiers rarely spoke your language you often found that the back shelves of that tiny shop kept you from going mad.
Now, they might also be keeping you from ruining your GPA.
You could only hope. If anybody could save you, it was them.
Ducking in through the small doorway, you were greeted by the soft ring of the bell above your head. The attendant at the register simply regarded you with a polite nod. You had seen her there before and she knew you barely spoke a lick of Sokovian, so she didn’t attempt a pleasantry. Instead, she simply let you wander through the entrance and into the towering bookshelves, passing a few other faceless shoppers on your way towards the back. You were grateful for her nonchalance.
If there was anything worse than feeling foolish for not knowing Sokovian, it was being talked down to in perfect English by a Sokovian citizen. Most interactions left you wishing you’d actually taken anything away from your high school French class other than emotional trauma from your teacher and a caffeine addiction. Damn America and its terrible public-school language programs…
The path to the English classics section was one you’d walked many times since discovering the book store. It was right in the very back corner of the shop, tucked away where the city natives wouldn’t have to address or see it. You had snagged a copy of Pride and Prejudice a few weeks back, so you knew exactly where to search. The only problem was slogging through every single book on the shelf in search of the one you were looking for.
Your eyes scanned the wall.  
Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh…
Gilgamesh!
On the 6th shelf up sat one small copy. Score! You were saved! As you reached up to grab it, though, you were met with yet another roadblock. The shelf it was on was juuuust a little too high for you to reach. Oh, come on…
You hopped a little, extending your hand up as far as it could go, but your fingers just barely brushed the spine. Somewhere behind you, you could hear footsteps. Then someone coughed to suppress laughter. The shame was plain on your face. As your flannel rode up and you stretched up in one last desperate attempt to grab the book when suddenly someone, you assumed the same person who had been laughing at your misfortune, spoke.
“They have stools, you know,” he said, accented voice thick with amusement. The English surprised you, but you assumed they used it for your benefit. You were in front of the English language books after all. Besides, the shame of it all kept your mind from questioning it too much. “For reaching the top shelf,”
Of course they had stools.
If your face hadn’t already been burning with embarrassment it definitely was now.
In a split-second decision, you decided playing dumb was the only way you could walk out of the situation with any dignity left at all, so you plastered on a confused smile and spun around to greet the stranger. “Really? I had no cl-”
You stopped short.
Oh.
Oh no.
You’d know those paint-stained jeans anywhere.
There, with his hands in his pockets and the most self-important, thin-lipped smirk you had ever seen, was easel boy in all of his cocky, intimidating, hot glory. Had you really noticed how hot he truly was before? It didn’t feel like it. Not now that you’d really seen him close up and reveled in the way his dark eyes hypnotized you with their smudged liner that felt borderline obscene. You could smell him too, all charcoal and turpentine and cigarette smoke. If you had it bad before when he was just a blurry ideal out your window, you were completely and utterly smitten now.
He regarded you with a sort of practiced annoyance, and yet there was a strange softness to it that you hadn’t found in many native Sokovians, especially ones that saw you as the stupid, bumbling American wandering blindly around their country.
“Would you like my help?”
“Huh?” You were so lost in his eyes that you couldn’t even focus on his question.
“To reach your book. Would you like my help?”
“Oh!” With a brisk nod, you stepped away from the shelf to make room for easel boy, “yeah, I’m just trying to grab that one there. The, uh, Epic of Gilgamesh,”
In one swift movement, he was stepping right beside you to easily reach up and grab the offending piece of literature. The closeness of it all nearly sent you into a tailspin. That wasn’t even mentioning the way your heart thudded just a little faster when he finally handed the book to you, his calloused fingers brushing against your own. You barely find a grip on your brain strong enough to thank him through the fog of embarrassment and attraction. Eventually, though, you managed to choke out a placation as your eyes explored the cover of the book.
“Thanks for that,”
“It was no problem,” he shrugged. He didn’t move though, still standing just inches away from you. When you looked up from the book you found his eyes were still on you, watching intently as if he expected something from you. The answer to what he actually expected was a mystery but you could tell he wanted something. When you didn’t speak, he spoke for you. “So, The Epic of Gilgamesh? That’s definitely a bold choice,”
You looked up at him sheepishly through heavily lidded eyes. “It’s not a choice at all, actually. I’m only buying it so I can write an essay,”
“Ah,” Something about his tone was almost disappointed as the conversation stalled.
You quickly changed the subject to the first thing you could think of.
“Your hair is really nice!”
“My hair?”
“Yeah… your hair,”
Smooth move, dumbass.
Easel boy’s expression seemed to soften once more as his signature grin crept back onto his face. “Thank you, I grew it myself,” Between his accent and the way he was looking at you like he was going to eat you alive, you weren’t exactly sure how you hadn’t had a heart attack yet. Still, the attention was nice, even if it was bourne out of you repeatedly embarrassing yourself in a never-ending cycle of fuckups. He ran a hand through his loose brown hair. “I like your shirt. Very American,”
Silently, you cursed yourself for not taking a few extra seconds to pick out a better outfit when you woke up. Standing next to him, even while he was dressed in his paint-stained jeans and undone button-up, you looked like a wreck in comparison. He didn’t seem to be speaking from a place of judgment, though.
If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was being nice, but that couldn’t be the case… could it?
“Maybe it’s just that I haven’t met very many Sokovians that are fond of America, but I’m not sure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult,” You joked. It was a bit sarcastic, the lilt of your voice masking your deep insecurity, and to your surprise easel boy laughed. He really laughed. From your place beside him, you could almost feel the warmth radiating off of him as he shook his head.
“It was definitely a compliment,”
Oh.
Your heart skipped a beat.
That was a new revelation.
You steeled yourself with a deep breath. Fuck it. It was now or never.
“I, uh… I’m Y/N, and you are?”
He regarded you once again with that strange expression of expectation. “What?”
“I asked for your name,” you repeated, and yet he still stood, slightly dumbfounded, staring down at you with that same expectant expression from earlier. For a moment, you almost thought he expected you to know it already. That fact was quickly glossed over when he moved to rub the back of his neck with his hand, eyes drifting down to the floor.
“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I’m not very good with people. My father thought college might help me finally connect with my peers, but I don’t think he expected that I was the problem, nor do I think he expected me to pick a degree in the arts,” Suddenly, he paused and stuck out his hand to you. “I’m Hel. It’s very nice to meet you Y/N,”
With only a moment of hesitation- because wow, your name had never sounded more right on someone’s lips -you took his large calloused hand in your own and shook it gently. His palm was warm, his fingers lingering on your own for just a moment even as he pulled away. It wasn’t much, just a soft brush against your flesh, but it sent a flash of heat and liquid confidence through your chest.
“Is that short for something?” Your eyes met his in the soft yellow glow of the overhead lamps. Seeing him like this, so up close and personal, he looked a lot more human than he had from your window. Sure, he was imposing. Underneath the initial harsh facade, though, was something softer and almost poetic. You weren’t an artist by any means but if you had been, you had no doubt that he’d be your muse.
“It’s short for Helmut, but only my father calls me that, and only when he’s cross, which, unfortunately, is most of the time,” he chuckled, “Besides, it’s an old man’s name. It doesn’t suit me,”
The words left your mouth before you knew what you were saying.
“Well, it’s better than calling you easel boy,”
Shit.
Today really just wasn’t your day, huh?
In the split second where you were mourning your chances with the most stupidly handsome guy who had ever shown any interest in you, you almost missed the way Helmut’s eyes lit up at the admission.
“Easel boy?” His voice was teasing, but not demeaning. That didn’t do much to ease your mortification, though.
“Is there any chance that I can get you to forget I said anything?”
“If you already have a nickname for me when we’ve barely met, I think you already know the answer to that question,”
His knowing smirk was enough to get you pleading. “You can’t just let me off the hook this once?” you begged, scrubbing a hand across your forehead in a desperate attempt to get away from his piercing gaze. The things those brown eyes did to you could be classified as obscene… “I will genuinely do anything if you don’t make me explain myself right now Hel,”
Hel quirked up an eyebrow. “Anything?” The way your stomach turned at just one word from him was both terrifying and extremely exciting. It felt like a promise. Without hesitation, you nodded. That made him smile. “In that case, get coffee with me today?”
Once again, you were rendered speechless.
“My treat,” he added, “unless you’re not interested…”
“No!” Your answer left your lips embarrassingly fast, “Or- yes? No, no, I think I meant no. No; I am very interested. Yes; I would like to get coffee with you,” There was a hint of shame in your words, but only a hint. After the day you’d had already, there wasn’t very much there to be ashamed of. Still, that same pit of dread began to open up in your stomach as you mulled over your choices.
Thankfully, Helmut continued to take it all in stride. “Wonderful! Is there anything else you’d like to do here before we go? It’s best we leave soon if we want to beat the rain,” He offered up his arm as he spoke like some sort of Disney prince. It was, by far, the cutest gesture you had ever been lucky enough to receive.
You linked your arm with his without hesitation. “As soon as I pay we can get going,” He was warm. It radiated off him in waves just like the warm hints of tobacco and wintermint that seemed to seep from his skin and clothes. With that, you made your way to the front desk as Hel shot you a sly smile.
“Who said anything about letting you pay?”
True to his word, he didn’t let you pay for a single thing for the rest of the afternoon.
The two of you made your way up to the cashier together, and Helmut only separated from your side to grab his wallet before you could grab yours. He then spoke in rapid-fire Sokovian to the lady at the register and pulled what could only be described as a wad of Sokovian koronas while you set the book on the counter, and from the looks of it, she seemed more than pleased with the two of you. Who wouldn’t be, especially when Hel seemed to insist that she keep the excess? In the end, after the book had been wrapped nicely in a paper bag and deposited in your backpack, Helmut held the door open for you like some sort of gentleman and followed you out into the grey afternoon.
Then, you were off down the street on Hel’s arm, pushing through the wind and the biting chill that had settled in the air.
“So, you don’t sound like a big fan of your dad,” you asked, half laughing as you attempted to broach conversation once again.
Helmut groaned beside you. “My father is a menace who is unable to understand that some people want more in life than to sit behind a desk all day making phone calls. In fact, most of my family is the same way. The only reason I haven’t completely cut them off and changed my name is the money,”
“I assume you get a lot of it if it’s worth sticking around someone you hate so much,”
“Never ask a man about his net worth,” he chuckled, gently elbowing you in the ribs, “but yes, I’m very comfortable. I have my own apartment just far enough away to be considered off-campus with my own car and as much money as it takes to keep me happy and getting good grades; Daddy makes sure of that,” The word daddy was a deep sneer, barely there in the wind, but something about it sent butterflies through your stomach. Well, that was never something you thought you were into… “Little does he know, I’m not here to make money. I’m here to find inspiration worth my time while out from under his thumb,”  
You snorted softly. “Artistic and rich? You’re just ticking all the boxes, Hel,”
“Good for me. Would offering help on that essay of yours endear you to me further?”
“Absolutely,”
The next 5 minutes you spend discussing the Epic of Gilgamesh. Surprisingly, in one of the first stokes of good luck you’d had all day, Helmut seemed to be one of the only people on earth who knew plenty about Enkidu off the top of his head. When he was the one lecturing you in his smooth, heavily accented timbre it was so much easier to pay attention to something so very tedious than when you heard it from your aging and often monotone professor. In fact, you were so enthralled by his retelling of the tale that you barely noticed you’d made it all the way to the cafe that sat across from the international dorm.
If you didn’t consider Hel to be smart as a whip and twice as clever as he was smart, you would have thought it was a coincidence. It couldn’t be though. No, there was no way anything was a coincidence with Helmut around. You shot him a smile when he opened the door for you and ushered you inside.
“You know Hel,” you muttered, “I’m starting to think you might know more about me than you initially let on,”
He shrugged. “You’re American, so it’s unlikely you live anywhere else and I wanted to make the walk home easy. It’s supposed to rain, you know? Besides, despite the… interesting waitstaff, they make the best pastries in town right here in this cafe,”
“Did you mean it when you said you were paying?”
“Absolutely,”
“Then I can’t wait to try one,”
The two of you were seated quickly (you assumed it had to do with the waitress finding Hel as hot as you did, because you caught her looking at him from behind the counter and whispering excitedly in Sokovian to her coworker at least twice over the course of the meal) and the conversation flowed easily as you waited on your coffees and the deserts Helmut insisted on splitting to let you try. Millefeuille, pear tart tatin, chocolate devil’s food cake, and a towering plate of apricot kołaczki awaited you, and they kept you sitting and talking and snacking for over an hour as you really got to know each other. The more you learned, the more you fell in love with the man across from you.
Over the course of the afternoon, you learned that Helmut was majoring in studio art while minoring in psychology just because it interested him, he hated the Beatles almost as much as he hated Freud’s theories on women, his favorite color was purple, and he spent most of his free time reading or getting high off his ass in his massive studio apartment in what you now knew was one of the most expensive areas in the city. He, in return, sat at rapt attention across the table as you gushed about your life in America, your reasons for going to university in Sokovia, your favorite books, and the ridiculousness that was trying to pass college-level classes in a country that seemed to avoid English at all costs.
Eventually, though, you did touch upon his nickname.
“I just thought it was really interesting that you did the same thing every single day, no matter what,” you explained, grabbing one of the last kołaczki from the plate and ignoring the powdered sugar that stuck to your fingers, “and by watching you… I don’t know, I guess it kind of felt like I had another friend who’d share breakfast with me in the morning if that makes sense,”
Hel nodded, swallowing his last bite of chocolate cake. “I understand completely. It can be lonely, coming to a new place without any friends or connections, but you were brave enough to take the leap. I admire that,” He brought his napkin to his lips before crumpling it and setting it one of the now empty plates before him, “But I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed that you didn’t watch me because I’m attractive,”
You nearly choked on your pastry. “Well, I wouldn’t say your pretty face didn’t help…”
The grin that spread across his face was heartstopping. He grabbed a napkin from the little holder next to the two of you and grabbed a pen from one of his pockets as he spoke. “In that case, you should join me tomorrow morning. Bring coffee if you can, I never have enough hands to bring a cup for myself, but even if you can’t bring some, if you want to come and watch me work I’d be more than happy to have a companion for the morning,” he paused for a moment, flustered, “or every morning, for that matter,”
“That sounds like a deal,” Your cheeks were hot, but not from embarrassment this time. No, it was anything but, because here you were across the table from a kind, attractive, intelligent Sokovian boy with money to spend and time to spare for you. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud too. He wanted you back, after all. You could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than he should, and even more plainly in the way he wrote his phone number in bold blue ink on the napkin and signed it with a doodle of a heart before passing it across the table to you.
“I’m going to go pay,” he said quietly while standing, “but I’ll be back in a second to walk you out. Alright?”
“Alright,”
There was something strangely similar to sorrow sitting in your chest when you watched him walk away. The sight of his ass as he went made up for it, though. Once he was obstructed by other patrons, you turned your attention to the napkin in your hands. Hel’s handwriting was neat as far as artists’ handwriting goes, but it still held a sort of looseness in its curves, a freedom in the way the numbers had flowed effortlessly from his pen. You popped the last kołaczki in your mouth as you admired the blue ink before devouring the final bites of pear tart and millefeuille. How had you gotten so lucky to have someone like him giving you his number and buying you pastries? You pondered the bizarre nature of it all until Helmut returned.
You stood quickly, folding the napkin and putting it away in your pocket. “Ready to go?”
“If you are,” he replied. In an instant, you were standing beside him again as he opened the door for you. The wind was even stronger now, strong enough that his loose hair whipped wildly around his forehead from the force of it. You couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance.
He caught you off guard as he walked you across the street. “You have such a pretty laugh,”
It was like you were seeing him again for the first time. You fiddled with the strap of your backpack as you got closer and closer to the door to your dorm. “Thanks. I’m pretty fond of your laugh too,”
Then, you were there, just two college kids standing awkwardly before your first departure.
“So,” you said before you could stop yourself, “when I tell my one friend all about this afternoon after my math class tonight, should I say it was a date?”
Hel’s cheeks flushed pink. “You can call it that, if that’s what you would like it to have been,”
“I think I would,”
“Good, good,” he let out a little chuckle, “I’m glad. Would you… would you consider going on another? I promise I have much more to offer than just small talk and tips on where to buy the best pastries,”
Looking into his brown eyes, so full of uncertainty and hope, you knew you couldn’t have denied him even if you wanted to. Still, you weren’t going to give in to his advances without a little bit of taunting. It made it fun, a game to be played where, hopefully, you both would win big in the end.
“That depends,” you teased, letting your lower lip catch between your teeth, “what do you have in mind?”
Helmut shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels, pensive. “If you want to, we could go to my place and I could actually show you all of the paintings I’ve been working on while you watched me. The view from the rooftop is lovely too. We could have dinner up there while looking out over Novi Grad. I have to warn you, though, it’ll probably be takeout. I’m an atrocious chef,”
Slowly, a brilliant smile spread across your face. “Does Friday work?”
The smile Helmut shot back was as bright as every star in the night sky and even more enthralling. “Friday is perfect. Can I pick you up at 7?”
“As long as you come in that fancy car you were talking about,”
“Then it’s a deal,”
“Well,” you turned away, walking up the steps towards the door before turning back to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Hel, and I’ll bring coffee. Have a good night,”
“You too, Y/N. Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that,”
With that, he gave one last short wave before turning on his heel and pulling out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. You watched him walk away until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Only then did you enter the punch code and race up the stairs to your room.
Your back was pressed to the door of your dorm room the second you had shut it, your hands clutching at your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your heart from beating right out of your ribs. The second you were in the privacy of your own place, your cool facade had melted away to reveal just how much of a wreck you really were.
He had invited you over to his apartment.
He liked you.
Easel boy really, honestly liked you.
No, not easel boy. Helmut. Hel.
Hel liked you, and he invited you over to his apartment, and you had plans to meet him with coffee as he painted the next morning.
You smiled softly under the fluorescent lights and pulled the book that had brought you together from your backpack. It seemed so unassuming now, just a fresh paperback with an unbroken spine, but in reality, it was so much more than that.
Hel.
It was such a nice name. You liked it a lot.
Now you couldn’t wait to see what else you liked about him too.
------
a/n: I have been so excited to start sharing this AU with you guys, and it’s finally here!!! If you liked this fic, I once again will direct you to Bliss by @creme-bruhlee​ because that’s technically next in chronological order for this AU. I hope you enjoyed!!!
TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @your-pixels-are-showing , @shit-post-things , @bbarton​ , @sux-ubus , @halefirewarrior , @janelongxox , @rax-writes , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ , @be-cautious-around-bri​ , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ , @frothonthedaydreams​ 
90 notes · View notes
anime-nymph · a day ago
Text
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Kenma x f!reader
wc: 1.7k
Tags/tw: jealousy, pining, invasion of privacy(?) + theft of explicit art depicting reader, public masturbation, just general filth with a dash of bad bromance.
Tumblr media
A text notification has Kenma dragging tired eyes away from his computer screen, and seeing the time for the first time in hours. It was almost ten… He hadn't realized it had gotten so late.
Kuroo had helped him out with this job to supplement his income while his stream was kicking off. He was getting a fair amount of views but he wasn't making enough to support himself on yet. Being the temp definitely had its drawbacks, late nights at the office were inevitable, but seeing the text box with your name brought a small smile to his face. Working in the office had its perks too, the main one being Kuroo's really cute secretary. 
Tumblr media
y/n: Hi! I'm so sorry, I know it's late but I need a favor. Are u still at the office? >w<
K.K.: As if I ever leave. What do you need?
y/n: I meant to download a file before I left today so I could work on it at home over the weekend, but I forgot. Could u go on my computer and email it to me? Pretty please?
Tumblr media
With a soft smile, he replied with a quick affirmative and got up from his seat wincing and stretching sore muscles, a courtesy from staying seated for so long.
Kenma had highly doubted Kuroo's words when his best friend predicted that she and him would click when he first laid eyes on the girl. She was pretty, and dressed smartly as her job required, very professional looking. But he ate his own assumptions from day one. You were bright, energetic and polite… and very much a nerd. Not only did you know the game titles he mentioned, you had played them- avidly. The pair of you spent lunch breaks arguing game strategies and character builds, optimizing ability rotations, and you even gave him a few recommendations for his stream that ended up being extremely helpful. 
It wouldn't be an understatement to say you quickly captured his attention. It wasn't often that someone made it past his social walls in such a short amount of time, the only other person to have done so far was Shoyou back in high school. You and the ginger were actually a bit similar now that Kenma thought about it. So if you needed a favor, Kenma wouldn't be able to turn you down if he tried.
But this wasn't how he expected it to turn out, a hot blush creeping up his neck with his eyes fixed on your computer screen. 
He'd found the file you asked for without issue, some kind of expense report, but when he opened your email… he wasn't prepared for what he found. You hadn't shut your browser properly, so the last thing you had viewed was still open on the screen. 
You were a woman so it's not like he wasn't aware that you had... urges… he just hadn't thought that far ahead in his infatuation with you. But now it was staring him in the face, his heart twisting painfully while his body and mind were wrung both arousal and confusion. 
It looked like you and K- 
Kenma shook his head, not wanting to think about it. 
It looked like an art commission, and it was very well done. Whoever had done it was skilled, and had intimate knowledge of both male and female anatomy. As Kenma's eyes scanned every lewd detail, he was shamefully aware of how tight his pants had become. 
His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he was beginning to perspire, so he tore his eyes away to read the caption beneath the photo.
Y/n-chan! I finally finished it. I didn't notice until I was done that the character you requested from that otome looks a lot like that sexy boss of yours that you're crushing on. I bet that's just a happy coincidence huh ;)
Tell me what you think and let me know if it needs any changes! xoxo
Fuck. His heart sat heavy in his chest though that did little to abate the heat curling low in his abdomen. Kenma had suspected. He saw the way your eyes lingered on Kuroo in the office, the way your posture straightened eagerly every time he spoke to you. At first he thought it might just be a bit of brown nosing, but he came to notice that you were far too relaxed and your eyes were too warm for that to be the case. 
Kenma had just decided to ignore it. He didn't want to consider you a lost cause, but based on the message and the art Kenma might just have to face the music. 
The man in the picture had a familiar mess of black hair and one hazel eye was peeking out from behind your shoulder, darkened with lust. It was amazing how much he looked like Kuroo-If it weren’t for the little message, Kenma would have outright assumed it. His lips were attached to your neck with a devious looking smirk and your eyes were screwed shut in pleasure. One of the man's hands had reached around your waist, two fingers spreading your pussy lips to give a wonderful view of the way his cock was stretching you open. The detail was incredible, from the sweat glistening on your cute tits, one of your nipples caught between the man's fingers, to the slick clinging to the man's veiny cock. Kenma froze as he realized he'd begun to palm his straining erection to your lewd expression, wondering if that was truly what your face looked like when you came. 
His golden eyes glanced around the abandoned office. Everyone else had gone home a couple hours ago so it would probably be fine if he… 
A soft whimper sounded in the back of his throat as he undid his belt. Was he really going to do this? As he shoved his pants down his thighs and leaned back, he knew the answer was yes. His cock slapped against his lower stomach as it sprung free of its confines. His body was nowhere near as conflicted as his mind. He wrapped his hand around his throbbing length, pretending it was yours. Kenma locked his eyes on the depiction of your bliss, imagining that it was himself making your face twist with unadulterated pleasure. 
Kenma wanted you. 
You wanted his best friend.
Kenma was a little upset and very jealous. Kuroo had always had it easy with girls, something Kenma usually didn't mind or just chose not to focus on. Kuroo was tall and good looking and not as socially awkward as Kenma, he could usually pull any girl he wanted. 
But you? Kenma had hoped that he was more your type, you had more in common with him than Kuroo after all. 
Kenma saw a little bottle of that sweet scented hand lotion you were always using and snatched it up, knowing it would make things smoother. He moaned as the floral scent hit his nose, it smelled like you and when it mixed with the smell the pre cum seeping from his flushed tip it made it easier for him to imagine that you were the one stroking his cock so nicely. 
His breath came in heated pants, endorphins rushing and Kenma's mind began to grow hazy as his fantasy took over. Kenma had always had a good imagination, it took little effort to picture your soft body and recreate your voice in his head.
Kenma made the mistake of looking at the damn picture again, gritting his teeth in frustration. It almost felt like the Kuroo-character was mocking him, that one hazel eye seemed to be glaring at him, that smirk saying "As if you could ever have this."
Kenma shut his eyes and envisioned himself in the other man's place, thought about how your velvety walls would flutter and cling to his cock. He began pumping his hand faster, muted moans falling from his lips as the telltale tingling sensation grew at the base of his shaft, pleasure blooming in his abdomen. He imagined your voice crying out his name, needy and desperate, as he suckled at your nipples or any of your soft skin that he could reach, covering you with dark marks that would leave behind a visible trace of the pleasure he brought you. 
It was the thought of marking you as his that had Kenma spilling into his own hand with groan that was much louder than he intended, somehow mindful enough to cover his cockhead with his other palm as his eyes glazed over, white hot euphoria rushing through his body. The thick seed seeped through his fingers, dripping down over his thighs as a hot wave of shame chased the haze of lust from his mind. 
He can't believe he just did such a thing at work, at your desk no less. With a red face, Kenma grabs tissue and cleans himself off, making sure he hadn't gotten his spend on anything. 
Kenma checked his phone and saw three separate texts asking if he found it, if he needed help, and lastly asking if he had fallen asleep somehow. 
With shaking hands he completes the original task, but finds himself frozen as the cursor hovers over the 'x' to close the browser. 
He'd already given into one temptation but this one was even more alluring, and much much worse. You would never forgive him if you found out.
It's not like you have a chance with her anyways, you might as well. The sullen voice at the back of Kenma's head whispered, and with that, the blonde caved. 
A few short clicks later and the tone to his email notifications that echoed throughout the empty office sounded like a gong of condemnation.  A few more clicks erased the evidence. 
Tumblr media
y/n: Did u find the file? It should have been on the left corner of my desktop.
y/n: Or maybe it wasn't, I could call and help u through it if u need:)
y/n: Haha I know it's late I hope u didn't fall asleep. Management might get mad.
K.K.: LOL. Sorry. I sent it just now. There was just something I had to take care of first. 
y/n: oh! Haha. Thank you so much, I really owe u(>y<)
K.K.: Don't worry about it, you've done more than you know already. Goodnight :)
Tumblr media
Kenma's eyes hardened as your final text came in, his golden eyes illuminated by the small screen.
Tumblr media
y/n: aww ur sweet! See you at work tmrw buddy:)
Tumblr media
Taglist: @prxttyalisa @cuillen @chaotic-fangirl-blog @kageyamakock @shadowkunoichi @ochakoakabane @sgwrscrsh @softandsweetbts @starlessnyx @sigynelisa @arixtsukki @ukaisprincesss @darlingg77 @marin-e-westward @thevillagehiddenintheinternet   @unfazedrose @starboychanyeol @planetofthebarbz @anejuuuuoy @bokutowo @satorisaur @ems1des @zbops @clawsbox @mattsunsbaby @kittycatkrissa @xobabyalina  @crapimahuman @kaieoh @random-734 @crystal-lilac @divineteaty @purpleiiaesthetic @megumiya @yamigooops @semisgroupie @gojocumslut @sullen-angel24
Tumblr media
104 notes · View notes
besteestores · 2 days ago
Text
Tolkiens Dead J K Rowling said no philip pullman couldnt make it shirt https://besteestores.com/product/tolkiens-dead-j-k-rowling-said-no-philip-pullman-couldnt-make-it-shirt/ https://cdn.besteestores.com/image/2021/05/03/tolkiens-dead-j-k-rowling-said-no-philip-pullman-couldnt-make-it-shirt-classic-mens-t-shirt.jpg
New Post has been published on https://besteestores.com/product/tolkiens-dead-j-k-rowling-said-no-philip-pullman-couldnt-make-it-shirt/
Tolkiens Dead J K Rowling said no philip pullman couldnt make it shirt
Tolkiens Dead J K Rowling said no philip pullman couldnt make it shirt .besteestores Comfortable. It covers the besides I will buy this body yet stylish, no dupatta to carry around all day, no awkward moments while sitting or while moving around. A girl can be careless about her taking care of her dress once she wears jeans and tops. Invisible means no more cat-calls or whistles, which is good. It also means servers/clerks ..pretty much everybody you deal with treating you as if you no longer have a brain or exist. Everybody looks past you to see that cute young girl next in line, or at the next table. You might sit at a bar alone and the bartender will come to chat with you. At my age, you get your drink (eventually) and he’s gone. And nobody else will come by. Go to a gym, nobody helps you or talks to you. There is a lot of age discrimination in this country, it’s why so many are tempted by plastic surgery. We are very youth-oriented. I’m married so it doesn’t bother me as much, it’s just something I notice, but I have friends who are single, and finding a man who wants an older woman is not possible. They want women in their 20s or 30s, no matter how old they are. Nobody looks at us-we are old, useless and uninteresting, at least they think so. I’m not saying you should enjoy true invasions or constant boob staring or whatever – but do realize that youth has power in the US and enjoy your status. Whatever you decide to wear. The attention will be gone sooner than you think. No, impeaching a criminal President doesn’t hurt at all, if the image you want others to have of your country is that of a functional democracy capable of protecting itself from attacks against its Constitution and its most fundamental institutions. If, in turn, the image you want to create is that of a failed democracy, in which the personality cult of the President is considered more important than the laws that serve as the foundation of the country, and in which Constitution is only nominal — then, by all means, impeachment can undermine that particular brand you pursue. If you now go on to impeach another President, only this time due to blatant high misdemeanors and crimes, other democracies will let out an audible sigh of relief, thinking that America has finally come to its senses.
Tolkiens Dead J K Rowling said no philip pullman couldnt make it shirt, hoodie, sweater, longsleeve and ladies t-shirt
Classic Women’s
Long Sleeved
Unisex Sweatshirt
Unisex Hoodie
Classic Men’s
  Tolkiens Dead J K Rowling said no philip pullman couldnt make it shirt .besteestores The work of the besides I will buy this mechanic can be very complex, so this is not meant to be a comparison. What I understand is that you believe that the work of a doctor can be codified into simple individual skills and relatively clear decision paths. In my experience, even people with no formal training can pick up useful medical reflexes, as evidenced here on Quora. Furthermore, many believe that by reading guidelines and applying medical decision algorithms you are as useful, or even better, than a doctor. However, the real skill comes with the part that cannot be put down on paper. You see, the part that you can find in guidelines, research papers, and textbooks is the obvious part, the baseline. People mistakenly assume that by acquiring this kind of knowledge, which is a lengthy process if you look at the volume of the stuff, you are a good doctor. This is false. The hard part is actually realizing that practicing medicine is a work of interpretation, in the sense that you have to apply rigorous, formal knowledge onto a fuzzy problem, a patient that does not necessarily come with hard measurements or even with clear objectives. This requires a huge amount of experience, empathy, and communication skills. Now, the distance between a good doctor and someone who simply applies reflex knowledge is the distance between the above definition and a real beautiful shirt that goes well on you. Sportive, fit, and tall. Finnish girls tend to go to them and do sports, and being fit belongs to beauty standards. Facial beauty, make-up, and jewelry are OK but not grossly overdone – being slutty or giving a tarty impression is frowned upon. Tan, be it real or fake, is good. Eyes are on great importance, and most make-up is around the. Most girls prefer either all-blonde or all-black hair, and usually long. Older women prefer their natural color. The buxomer you are, the better, but not overtly – it is a sign of a disorder. It is OK to be a bit overweight, providing you are sportive and/or muscular and do not resemble the Michelin Man. lothing tends to be tight and fitting, but not too revealing. Jeans, pastel color trousers and leggings are the thing. If the weather is hot, loose dresses are favored. In winter, either woollen long coats, fur-lined jackets,and parkas or Thinsulate or eiderdown stuffed jackets are the thing as it is cold. You Can See More Product: https://besteestores.com/product-category/trending/
0 notes
besteestores · 2 days ago
Text
Truckers dont go gray we turn Chrome 2021 shirt https://besteestores.com/product/truckers-dont-go-gray-we-turn-chrome-2021-shirt/ https://cdn.besteestores.com/image/2021/05/03/truckers-dont-go-gray-we-turn-chrome-2021-shirt-classic-mens-t-shirt.jpg
New Post has been published on https://besteestores.com/product/truckers-dont-go-gray-we-turn-chrome-2021-shirt/
Truckers dont go gray we turn Chrome 2021 shirt
Truckers dont go gray we turn Chrome 2021 shirt .besteestores Comfortable. It covers the besides I will buy this body yet stylish, no dupatta to carry around all day, no awkward moments while sitting or while moving around. A girl can be careless about her taking care of her dress once she wears jeans and tops. Invisible means no more cat-calls or whistles, which is good. It also means servers/clerks ..pretty much everybody you deal with treating you as if you no longer have a brain or exist. Everybody looks past you to see that cute young girl next in line, or at the next table. You might sit at a bar alone and the bartender will come to chat with you. At my age, you get your drink (eventually) and he’s gone. And nobody else will come by. Go to a gym, nobody helps you or talks to you. There is a lot of age discrimination in this country, it’s why so many are tempted by plastic surgery. We are very youth-oriented. I’m married so it doesn’t bother me as much, it’s just something I notice, but I have friends who are single, and finding a man who wants an older woman is not possible. They want women in their 20s or 30s, no matter how old they are. Nobody looks at us-we are old, useless and uninteresting, at least they think so. I’m not saying you should enjoy true invasions or constant boob staring or whatever – but do realize that youth has power in the US and enjoy your status. Whatever you decide to wear. The attention will be gone sooner than you think. No, impeaching a criminal President doesn’t hurt at all, if the image you want others to have of your country is that of a functional democracy capable of protecting itself from attacks against its Constitution and its most fundamental institutions. If, in turn, the image you want to create is that of a failed democracy, in which the personality cult of the President is considered more important than the laws that serve as the foundation of the country, and in which Constitution is only nominal — then, by all means, impeachment can undermine that particular brand you pursue. If you now go on to impeach another President, only this time due to blatant high misdemeanors and crimes, other democracies will let out an audible sigh of relief, thinking that America has finally come to its senses.
Truckers dont go gray we turn Chrome 2021 shirt, hoodie, sweater, longsleeve and ladies t-shirt
Classic Women’s
Long Sleeved
Unisex Sweatshirt
Unisex Hoodie
Classic Men’s
  Truckers dont go gray we turn Chrome 2021 shirt .besteestores The work of the besides I will buy this mechanic can be very complex, so this is not meant to be a comparison. What I understand is that you believe that the work of a doctor can be codified into simple individual skills and relatively clear decision paths. In my experience, even people with no formal training can pick up useful medical reflexes, as evidenced here on Quora. Furthermore, many believe that by reading guidelines and applying medical decision algorithms you are as useful, or even better, than a doctor. However, the real skill comes with the part that cannot be put down on paper. You see, the part that you can find in guidelines, research papers, and textbooks is the obvious part, the baseline. People mistakenly assume that by acquiring this kind of knowledge, which is a lengthy process if you look at the volume of the stuff, you are a good doctor. This is false. The hard part is actually realizing that practicing medicine is a work of interpretation, in the sense that you have to apply rigorous, formal knowledge onto a fuzzy problem, a patient that does not necessarily come with hard measurements or even with clear objectives. This requires a huge amount of experience, empathy, and communication skills. Now, the distance between a good doctor and someone who simply applies reflex knowledge is the distance between the above definition and a real beautiful shirt that goes well on you. Sportive, fit, and tall. Finnish girls tend to go to them and do sports, and being fit belongs to beauty standards. Facial beauty, make-up, and jewelry are OK but not grossly overdone – being slutty or giving a tarty impression is frowned upon. Tan, be it real or fake, is good. Eyes are on great importance, and most make-up is around the. Most girls prefer either all-blonde or all-black hair, and usually long. Older women prefer their natural color. The buxomer you are, the better, but not overtly – it is a sign of a disorder. It is OK to be a bit overweight, providing you are sportive and/or muscular and do not resemble the Michelin Man. lothing tends to be tight and fitting, but not too revealing. Jeans, pastel color trousers and leggings are the thing. If the weather is hot, loose dresses are favored. In winter, either woollen long coats, fur-lined jackets,and parkas or Thinsulate or eiderdown stuffed jackets are the thing as it is cold. You Can See More Product: https://besteestores.com/product-category/trending/
0 notes
besteestores · 2 days ago
Text
Its not waterboarding if you use diesel shirt https://besteestores.com/product/its-not-waterboarding-if-you-use-diesel-shirt/ https://cdn.besteestores.com/image/2021/05/03/its-not-waterboarding-if-you-use-diesel-shirt-classic-mens-t-shirt.jpg
New Post has been published on https://besteestores.com/product/its-not-waterboarding-if-you-use-diesel-shirt/
Its not waterboarding if you use diesel shirt
Its not waterboarding if you use diesel shirt .besteestores Comfortable. It covers the also I will do this body yet stylish, no dupatta to carry around all day, no awkward moments while sitting or while moving around. A girl can be careless about her taking care of her dress once she wears jeans and tops. Invisible means no more cat-calls or whistles, which is good. It also means servers/clerks ..pretty much everybody you deal with treating you as if you no longer have a brain or exist. Everybody looks past you to see that cute young girl next in line, or at the next table. You might sit at a bar alone and the bartender will come to chat with you. At my age, you get your drink (eventually) and he’s gone. And nobody else will come by. Go to a gym, nobody helps you or talks to you. There is a lot of age discrimination in this country, it’s why so many are tempted by plastic surgery. We are very youth-oriented. I’m married so it doesn’t bother me as much, it’s just something I notice, but I have friends who are single, and finding a man who wants an older woman is not possible. They want women in their 20s or 30s, no matter how old they are. Nobody looks at us-we are old, useless and uninteresting, at least they think so. I’m not saying you should enjoy true invasions or constant boob staring or whatever – but do realize that youth has power in the US and enjoy your status. Whatever you decide to wear. The attention will be gone sooner than you think. No, impeaching a criminal President doesn’t hurt at all, if the image you want others to have of your country is that of a functional democracy capable of protecting itself from attacks against its Constitution and its most fundamental institutions. If, in turn, the image you want to create is that of a failed democracy, in which the personality cult of the President is considered more important than the laws that serve as the foundation of the country, and in which Constitution is only nominal — then, by all means, impeachment can undermine that particular brand you pursue. If you now go on to impeach another President, only this time due to blatant high misdemeanors and crimes, other democracies will let out an audible sigh of relief, thinking that America has finally come to its senses.
Its not waterboarding if you use diesel shirt, hoodie, sweater, longsleeve and ladies t-shirt
Classic Women’s
Long Sleeved
Unisex Sweatshirt
Unisex Hoodie
Classic Men’s
Its not waterboarding if you use diesel shirt .besteestores The work of the also I will do this mechanic can be very complex, so this is not meant to be a comparison. What I understand is that you believe that the work of a doctor can be codified into simple individual skills and relatively clear decision paths. In my experience, even people with no formal training can pick up useful medical reflexes, as evidenced here on Quora. Furthermore, many believe that by reading guidelines and applying medical decision algorithms you are as useful, or even better, than a doctor. However, the real skill comes with the part that cannot be put down on paper. You see, the part that you can find in guidelines, research papers, and textbooks is the obvious part, the baseline. People mistakenly assume that by acquiring this kind of knowledge, which is a lengthy process if you look at the volume of the stuff, you are a good doctor. This is false. The hard part is actually realizing that practicing medicine is a work of interpretation, in the sense that you have to apply rigorous, formal knowledge onto a fuzzy problem, a patient that does not necessarily come with hard measurements or even with clear objectives. This requires a huge amount of experience, empathy, and communication skills. Now, the distance between a good doctor and someone who simply applies reflex knowledge is the distance between the above definition and a real beautiful shirt that goes well on you. Sportive, fit, and tall. Finnish girls tend to go to them and do sports, and being fit belongs to beauty standards. Facial beauty, make-up, and jewelry are OK but not grossly overdone – being slutty or giving a tarty impression is frowned upon. Tan, be it real or fake, is good. Eyes are on great importance, and most make-up is around the. Most girls prefer either all-blonde or all-black hair, and usually long. Older women prefer their natural color. The buxomer you are, the better, but not overtly – it is a sign of a disorder. It is OK to be a bit overweight, providing you are sportive and/or muscular and do not resemble the Michelin Man. lothing tends to be tight and fitting, but not too revealing. Jeans, pastel color trousers and leggings are the thing. If the weather is hot, loose dresses are favored. In winter, either woollen long coats, fur-lined jackets,and parkas or Thinsulate or eiderdown stuffed jackets are the thing as it is cold. You Can See More Product: https://besteestores.com/product-category/trending/
0 notes
Text
Tumblr media
Sunday, 2nd May 2021
Picture: from yesterday after the mass.. there was the 1st May manifestation..
My Becc is always at ease with Josh’ friends haha.. Laurent is one of my 70x7 fave KT babies.. Josh likes to hang out with Thomas, Laurent, Samuel.
Why am I writing on my phone this early in the morning? Haha because I have time.. I am going to mass at parish .. while I woke up very early this morning.
Did I pray? Thank God I did. This is the mission of this month hahaha I am going to stick at morning prayer. Because I kinda skip much last month. And geeezzz I worry for my soul .. when physically I am tired and my soul has not oil either hahaha then it’s a danger alert.
Of course I know these basic rules, but geeezz when I am tired physically I can’t get up for prayers hahaha.. even though I talk to Jesus a lot during the day. It’s still different .. first thing to do is to sleep early. Do you think I can make it? See, after work I still have a zillion things to do at home hein.. and when everything is done .. do you think I can sleep without emptying my mind and my heart? Dunno.. will try and see.
Anyhow.. I am posting because this morning after morning prayer I saw Val’s sms asking for the PU hahaha I totally forgot about it. We usually use the PU from prions en eglise.. and it’s been 2 months that we don’t receive the Prions en église. I promised Val that I’ll scan the one at parish.. and I forgot hahah..
So, the fun this morning was diana running out from bedroom put the doudoune on and ran to parish jajaja no make up jajaja bed hair. I was still wearing the jogging I had last night hahaha.. ran to the nuns first but I don’t remember their door code.. called them no answer.. so I went to parish.
It’s done.. met Helene only.. no priest hahaha nobody had to get the shock of diana wake up look. Hahaha I am hyper white with pink cheeks and brown freckles hahah
——- 4 pm
I am going to nap.. late but I cannot open my eyes anymore and my headache needs to be calmed down..
--------- evening 
It’s late, I don’t think it’s good to write a lot today. I just ended my day with cooking. 
ok what to tell? quickly one?
Mass was really good..Fr Bapt was probably tired much.. he got confused .. he skipped Heureux les invités au repas .... he went directly to que le corps et le sang du Christ nous garde pour ... hehhe I was confused hahaha but he realised it and went back to redo this part kekekek ..
I was happy to be back at parish.. I arrived quite early to welcome people haha I mean, I wanted to say hello to people and get to know new faces. Which I did.. before and after mass. It’s not as if I am collecting people’s phone numbers hein, but I meant to get to know faces.  Before mass I met Jean-Victor, a Cambodian student. And after mass, I met a new family, from Lebanon.. who have 2 cute children, Charbel and Zélie!  Impressive choice of names kekekkee.. 
The fact with these new people, I might look too ‘invasive’ to them.. dunno.. No matter what, going through priests somehow is better for them. The new family doesn’t reply to my message to ask for their email hahaha.. while I meant to give it to Sophie, for Eveil.. the mother told me that she’s interested but then no replying my message? hahahha. Well, I’ll give them time, they don’t know me that much either. Yesterday, I met a young woman, named Marley.. she has story hein.. hehehe. Well, for the least time I have at my parish, I am trying my best to give my heart fully to meet people, to make them feel at home.. Elisabeth said that our parish is very warm, welcoming and there is life. heheh I take this as compliment.. not for me but for parish hehehe Elisabeth is not that easy to please hehehe... now, with new curé, she’s pleased hehehe.. She didn’t like Fr Steph that much.  
Me? I love my parish.. it’s my home, my family, regardless who is the curé.. Where I can run just like this morning in doudoune and going without make up? hahaha Didn’t need to ask anyone, hahaha since I have keys? kekekek.. The priests don’t need to feel insecure with me being around, because really, really, I am sincere, honest and genuine kekekeke.. It’s really my family here, I am doing my best.
Btw, Elisabeth thinks that parishes at the other side of Paris are warmer.. people say hello after mass, hehehe is it really? probably? because over there, there are more practicing catholic families? dunno..
She thinks St Albert can do better hahhaah I think they are much better now comparing to 2 years ago kekkekeke..like seriously.  But sure, they need warmer vibes.. now it’s still a bit distant and cold? Dunno.. it’s probably French too? In our parish it’s different, since there are a lot of Africans hahaha now Asians too.. 
St Albert is doing fine, they are making progress..  In spite of the Covid measures, they are making progress and this is good. 
Btw, as we are ending the curfew etc, our parish is going to put back activities in the evening kekekke.. the Re-découvert thingy will go back to evening.. I don’t know how soon I’ll get myself used to evening schedule again hehhee..  because it’s also good to end the day earlier.
Anyway, as I don’t have much time, hehehe let’s see how much I can write, while too bad, I  had a lot to tell.. yesterday was a good day to tell nonsense hahha  it vanished for good. Today... homily.. I think it was good .. a bit too reading style .. but at the end Fr Bapt managed to do it better.. a sharing hehehe.. even Josh remembered what he said hehehe.. good. Actually, yesterday, Jérôme,  Claire’s husband shared his faith life at work, as part of our St Joseph mass.. AND Jérôme said, he puts alarm at noon for Angelus, a 15 seconds pause to reconnect with the Lord.. hehehhe..Why do I need 1 mins? hahaha
I think he does 1 Hail Mary .. Because the full Angelus needs at least 1 min.
And Fr Bapt today said that by research, psychologists conclude that we need about 17 seconds to change our mind, to cut ourselves from something we are doing and change the whole thing, the whole direction of what we were doing.. Cool hein?
Yeap.. It’s actually a Hail Mary pause to put everything back on the good path. 
Yesterday, I had a hot discussion, kinda much in annoyed vibes, with Josh.. Because he told me that he’s not feeling like doing anything at all and tomorrow he has 4 exams hahaha.. 
I was very surprised. I told him that it can’t be haha we are the third day people, we can’t be depressed hahah we are not allowed to be like any other people.. All others are excused, because they might not have experienced God’s love in their life, but we do, we know we are loved and we are the light the world.. we are the salt on earth.. No hahaha we are not allowed to be ‘lost’ like others, we are supposed to be people who know that we have to bear cross, jump into raging sea, walk, float whatever, it’s going to hard much, but we have the third day! hahahaha.. 
I am asking much hein.. But I just couldn’t bear it, why he can feel that way, unmotivated, doesn’t want to do anything at all.. Just want to be like his friends doing nothing at all..
Of course, peeps, I  know that I couldn’t convince him 100% as he himself has to come to realise all this by himself.. discovering faith and experiencing God’s love personally in him..in his life.. not mine. So .. yeap, yesterday, we read Fr Thierry’s edito hehee.. which arrived at perfect time, still about discerning of what to do in his life. And today, the 17 seconds might help Josh.. I am hoping, that whenever he needs to decide what to do, or having the moment of laziness he would take 17 seconds.. say a Hail Mary and makes the right choice.
Hail Mary or any act of faith, act of confidence in the Lord.. it can be simple.. Linking to today’s Gospel, Fr Bapt chose to quote the vine and branch, to remain in the Lord. I.. personally like how it is Fr Thierry’s Edito and homily.. in the same line, to remain in the Lord.. with Love as the standard, the measure, the commandment.
Dies est amour, qui demeure dans l’ amour demeure en Dieu et Dieu demeure en lui.. <<<<< fave heheh it’s my ringtone too.
And Fr Thierry’s homily has realist part.. how to know if it’s the right choice, the right thing to do..
Pour vérifier ce que vaut ce que je vis aujourd’hui, il suffit donc de se demander si Jésus est effectivement bienvenu dans tout ce que je fais, dis, pense, etc. 
- Nous pouvons nous poser simplement la question : ce que je fais habituellement, est-ce que je le vis avec lui, pour lui, par lui ou non ? Et qu’en est-il de ce que je veux faire aujourd’hui, demain, toute la semaine : mon travail, mes occupations, mes loisirs… ?
Yeap.. Josh needs to read this with me again hehehe.. will do, will do, today I didn’t want to add more stress on him who is worrying for his 4 exams..  my baby is always freaked out when he has exams.. whatever it is.. He’s stressed out, worse than me.. I was not the person who stressed out for exams hein hehehe but for other things.
Nevertheless, Josh went to bed telling me to not worry, that he doesn’t want me to not sleep thinking of him and his exams hehe He knows.. hahaha the only reason that can make me sleepless at night would be my children only.. Just like mom is not sleeping well now because of my sis.. Mom is losing weight and keeps getting nervy because of sis.. snifff.. We had phone call today, while making mask.. I didn’t finish the mask hahaha.. went to sleep..  it’s ok, nothing emergency.. Everyone has lots of masks already.  I am not making the white one that Fr Thierry used last Friday... It was not mine, he uses that one a lot.. I need to take a closer look to see how to make that style.
Mom, sis and brothers.. everyone is doing fine. I even had messages with my aunt.. yeap, family day. Cried with mom though.. we both said to each other, let’s not tell people to get married HAHAHAHA Like seriously.. yeap.. We both don’t see any good in it hahaha.. but cross. Marriage is supposed for 2 persons. While we both feel like being alone most of time hehehe.. And children, once we have children, it’s for lifetime that we have to be parents and worry about them.
But hahaha if I had to choose between marriage life or single life.. For my babies I have to choose marriage life again hehhee.. I can’t have life without my babies. 
How much the Lord loves me? He gave away His only Son to save me.  John 3:16. This said it all.. TT__TT The mother-heart of mine feel His love. This impressed me when I was 12 yo, still does 33 years later.
Love is the most impressive word of all. It’s God, it’s Holy Spirit, it’s Jesus.. It’s Cross, it’s the Third day, it’s life, it’s The law, it’s the standard for judgement, decision making, the measure to be used in the everything. And many more... and remember, it brings joy through tears..? haha
I have to sleep.
Is my parish my home or is Catholic Church my home my family? hahaha I don’t know..
Yesterday hahaha..I went to St Fr d’Assise for confession.. since it was too late for Sacré Coeur..after my long discussion with Josh. And Fr Hervé said that I had to wait after mass for confession hahaha.. they were about to have evening mass. Ok, I hesitated hahaha but well.. it’s ok.. I love going to mass anyway.. I needed a pause too.. so I went to their mass. Around 30 elderly only.. 
Peeps.. I didn’t think at all.. I suddenly gave out songs papers hahahaha.. to people.. because we were singing, and some of them, looked confused and looked around for songs papers.. So, do you think I would sit and do nothing? HAHAHAH Of course, I couldn’t.. it’s not my parish, still it looks normal and natural for me to go to take papers to give to people. 
I think, whenever we are, feel free to be at home whichever parish it is, it’s our Church. Sure, it’s not our parish, I can’t go to do the quete hahaha don’t cross too much line either but just be Christian, don’t limit love within which parish. 
Peeps.. twice yesterday I went to mass hahaha and both was in jeans.. I felt bad hahaha a bit, since it was a Sunday mass .. 
Carine was so surprised to see me yesterday, at St Joseph mass in Jeans HAHAHAHA Peeps, I go to daily mass at parish in jeans.. Yesterday was a lack of planning one hahaha.. I woke up with thought  of making flowers and skipping the fact that we’d have 11 AM mass. So I was in jeans haha while my kids went later in Sunday dress kekekeke.. And to make me feel even worse hahaha at the offering, Fr Chris came to ask me to give communion, of course I can’t say no.. I love bringing Communion to others.. But geeezz.. the horrified me thinking that I’d walk to choir in jeans hahaha.. not in alb, not in dress but in jeans HAHAHAHHA For Sundays, at least I was always in dress.. but yesterday I looked like a youngster in jeans AAAAAAAAAAA hahha but well, I tidied up myself a bit.. and all seemed ok. Vero hahaha smiled when I have her communion hahhaa..because I said Corps du Christ, Véro hahahaha to Elisabeth too.. I don’t know if it’s ok hahhaa.. but I said the name of all people that I know hahha during communion, unplanned ..I think it’s from the hospital.. As I give communion to my patients with their name too..
And Carine today saw me again, hahah said, ah you’re back to your dress hahaha not jeans hahah Sunday, peeps.. kkekeke..  Even Val said, she is in awe because until now I have always had skirt at work hehehe.. ok, it’s my Asian habit, when I worked bank I have never had pants nor jeans hein hehehehe.. Jeans are for daily life, informal activities. I don’t wear pants though heheh I don’t like pants.. I love jeans, shorts, skirts and dresses only.
Sleep.. 
Will go with Anne to St Albert tomorrow.. that’s the planning, and I hope that Fr Fred won’t make it difficult for me to leave.. I don’t want to cancel Anne at last minute..
oh peeps.. Elisabeth said she messaged Fr Thierry saying that I was giving them away hahaha.. I don’t know if she was joking or she really messaged him yesterday hein.
Yesterday, when we have done with flowers.. 10.30 AM, Vero asked Elisabeth to go to have coffee. I said, Nope, cannot.. we were about to have mass hein!  Vero said it’s ok since they won’t put sugar.. HAHAHAH just water + coffee, that’s all.. Elisabeth said, it’s ok, since they won’t have madeleine. hahahhaha  I said no ok, since we really have to 1 hour fasting before mass hahahaha. They said nope, it’s not the rule. hahhaah I took out my phone and pretending that I was calling Fr Thierry hahahaha.. Allo, père Thierry, vos copines veulent aller boire un café juste avant la messe, il faut venir sauver leur âme! hahaha BUT of course I didn’t call him hahha.. 10.30 AM hahaha he would be puzzled with my nonsense hahaha 
Elisabeth said, it’s because Fr Thierry doesn’t know how coffee tastes delicious hahahaha No, no, I think he likes coffee much hahaha Vero said, if he makes vow to not drink coffee, it’s his thing not theirs HAHAHA true hahaha but 1 hour fasting, before mass is for everyone hahaha..
Well, we still went.. I didn’t have coffee of course.. or anything... I still can’t have coffee.. my hearttbeats go crazy.. kekkekee.. lately..I often feel uncomfortable at my chest already, I don’t want to tempt heart attack because of coffee hein.. kekekek nor falling in love because of coffee hahaha 
----- it’s the rumour that when you fall in love, you get faster heartbeats.. kekekkeke OR when your heart skips a beat.. kekeke All is nonsense kekekekek.. My heartbeats get faster because of coffee only hahah and if my heart skips a bit, I’ll die I think hahahah Basically I am saying that falling in love doesn’t exist. hahaha only Love does exist.
Elisabeth and Vero are in good mood lately.. we were discussing about many things.. I can’t tell now hahaha it’s late.. Vero went to look for new apartment with Patrick today.. 
Enjoy May, peeps.. it’s the month of love hehehe.. the month of Mary.. and we were in the year of St Joseph.. Pentecost happens in May too kekeke it’s my month kekekeke..
geeezz..I have to read la mort d’Ivan Ilitch.. 
———-
How when I need to sleep that I think of 1001 things that Fr Bapt hasn’t done? Even though I have sent him an email about things to do? Sigh.. geez I’ll have a busy morning on Tuesday.. how to make him work tomorrow? I can’t geeezzz
My son have 4 exams .. mommy can’t sleep hahaha have stomachache hahha anxious me.
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
0 notes
gingersnaaps · 3 days ago
Text
tetraphobia
maybe seijoh's revenge doesn't always have to be on the court. maybe seijoh's revenge can come in the form of fucking kageyama's sweet little girlfriend.
wc: 3.3k
tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, noncon, gangbang, mindbreak, victim blaming/guilt, forced infidelity, hints of sadism, anal, double penetration, deepthroat, cunnilingus, sorta overstim? idk this is very nasty, fem!reader with inner genitals, timeskip!characters
a/n: this is for @somecravings' gangbang collab! this work features the seijoh four.
i don’t want minors interacting with my content
Tumblr media
“I wonder where Tobio-chan found himself such a cute girlfriend.”
The words freeze you in your tracks.
A tall, well-built, man leans against the wall of the hotel hallway, the cramped space making him loom large in front of you. You think he’s a stranger at first - but a closer look at the waves of his chestnut hair, his molten hazel eyes - and memories of the pictures Tobio had shown you flood back into your mind.
Oikawa Tooru, he’d told you. Teammates at Kitagawa Daiichi, and then rivals at Karasuno and Aoba Johsai. I took away his last chance to make it to nationals in high school. Now he’s on Argentina’s national team. Looked up to him a lot, but we had a… strained relationship.
His eyes flicker back to the faded yearbook photos, an unmistakable note of bitterness in his voice.
The very same Oikawa Tooru from his pictures stands in the hallway leading to your hotel room, arms crossed and eyes glittering with amusement.
Almost as if he’d been waiting there for you.
“He’s out celebrating his win, isn’t he?” he says, cocking his head to one side. “Along with the rest of his team.”
He steps closer, walking towards you until he’s mere feet away. You can see where the hem of his blue jersey peeks out from beneath his jacket, the white of his teeth glinting as he grins. Up close, he’s even more intimidating, and you suppress the sudden surge of discomfort that crawls beneath your skin.
Your eyes flit back and forth, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “Is there something you need?”
“Yes,” he says, his hand reaching out to stroke gently along your cheek. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor, sweetheart.”
Panic seizes you when his cold, calloused, fingertips brush lightly along your skin, your heart thudding as discomfort rips through your body. You don’t know what his intentions are, but his words scare you. There’s nothing genuine about his tone, nothing kind, and years of too-close encounters with men have left you wary and alert. His touch is invasive, contemptuous, mocking, and you jerk away from his hand in an attempt to backpedal-
Warm hands clamp down around your shoulders in an iron grip. Your heart sinks as you realize you’ve got nowhere to go, dread seeping into every vein in your body.
“I’m a little late. Sorry.”
The voice at your ear is a low rasp, his tone nonchalant, but you can hear the message that undercuts it as clear as day: you’re not going anywhere.
“Don’t worry about it, Iwa,” Oikawa says, fingers curling around your chin, tilting your face up forcefully until you’re staring directly into his eyes. “You got here just in time to help me out. She looked like she was about to run away for a while there. Can you imagine?”
The man behind you - Iwaizumi Hajime, you recall - chuckles. “Wouldn’t get very far.”
Your blood runs cold at the implication of his words. Your stomach churns, an awful, nauseous feeling that makes you feel sick, shoulders tensing as you struggle against Iwaizumi’s hold.
“Hey,” he warns quietly. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”
His words almost make you want to laugh; he says them like he’s trying to help you, like he genuinely cares about your well-being. You remember the late-night talks you and Kageyama would have, the ones where he’d describe his days spent in middle school, secluded and walled off from the other players on his team. There was always one name he spoke with a particular reverence: Iwaizumi Hajime. Tough. Strong. Kind. A good man, he’d emphasized. I’m glad he was there during those years.
Well, this certainly was a reality check, wasn't it?
He removes his hands from your shoulders and wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you pressed close to his side, as if a reminder of you how powerless you are in this position. “Come on, baby,” he says. “Let’s go.”
“It’d be rude to keep Makki and Mattsun waiting any longer."
Oikawa slides his fingers into yours until the two of you are holding hands, humming happily as Iwaizumi escorts you down the hall towards your own hotel room. It takes every last ounce of self-control to stop yourself from crying and screaming on the spot, to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over, to save yourself the embarrassment of breaking down pathetically as these people - these assholes - watch.
You get the feeling that they’re not going to leave you alone out of pity.
They escort you to your hotel room, passing by rows and rows of rooms that blur as your vision tunnels. Their presence is suffocating; Oikawa’s fingers brush against your wrist, rubbing tender circles into your skin, and you can feel Iwaizumi's warm breath on the crown of your head.
Oikawa grabs the key card from your purse, sliding it into the scanner, and pushes the door open when it lights up green.
Your heart stills with fear as they drag you inside, flicking the light switch open until the room glows softly.
There’s two more people sitting in the bed.
A tall, lanky man waves in acknowledgement, nudging his companion in the side as his eyes flicker appraisingly over you.
The other man looks up, tossing his phone aside, blowing aside a stray strand of strawberry-pink hair.
“Hmm. I hate to say this, but Oikawa was right,” he says, a wry grin on his face. “What a pretty girl.”
You feel so vulnerable with four pairs of eyes roaming over every inch of your body, your mind running rampant with fear and anticipation as they admire and scrutinize. And you’d be right to be scared, because there’s so much they can’t wait to do, so much of you they’ve been dying to explore, so many of their little fantasies that they’ve been waiting for the right girl to help them act out.
You’ll help them out, won’t you?
Without warning, there’s a pair of hands on your waist insistently pushing you downwards, applying steady pressure until your legs collapse and you’re forced to your knees.
“So impatient, Iwa.” Oikawa clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You won’t even let her get settled in?”
There‘s a huff of annoyance above you. “The more you talk, the less I’m going to enjoy this.”
“Alright, alright.”
Oikawa slides a hand onto the back of your neck, the other moving to grip your hair. His touch is gentle, fingers stroking along your pulse point, but you know it won’t last if you misbehave. You have no illusions about the kind of person he is, not when his hands maneuver your mouth and throat into nothing more than a warm fleshlight for his friend.
Iwaizumi palms himself in front of your face, hands skimming over the bulge in his jeans as he groans in pleasure, and pulls out his half hard cock, veins throbbing and flushed with arousal. Cupping your face in his hand, he fits the tip to your soft lips and tilts your chin upwards to meet his piercing, lust-filled eyes, his gaze swirling with want.
“Open up for me like a good girl, okay?” he growls.
You can’t help the way your cunt pulses at his tone, an intoxicating rush of fear and desire that leaves your mind hazy and mouth dropping open. He doesn’t waste the opportunity, pushing his cock into your warm, wet, mouth, a moan falling from his lips as he thrusts his hips forwards. You retch at the intrusion, instinctively jerking your head backwards, but Oikawa’s grip on your neck tightens as he holds you in place. He crouches down, lips finding your ear as Iwaizumi starts sliding in and out of your mouth.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers, warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “If you take it like you’re supposed to, he won’t last too long.”
At those words, his hands push your head forward, impaling your throat on his cock, holding you down as you choke and drool and retch. Your eyes redden as silvery tears drip through your lashes, panic rising, vision turning to static, the pain in your lungs growing unbearable as Oikawa’s smile turns razor sharp. “Atta girl,” he encourages softly, his thumb wiping away one of the tears running down your cheek. “I think he’s gonna cum soon if you keep this up.”
If you keep this up. As if you have a choice.
Iwaizumi’s thrusts grow more erratic, fucking you rougher and faster as he slams in and out of your throat. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “Such a good fucking girl for me. Got such a - such a perfect little mouth, taking me so well,” he says, breath catching.
Just like Oikawa had predicted, he doesn’t last much longer after that, hips stuttering when he spills down your waiting throat. He tastes warm and slightly salty, the last few drops of his cum dripping down your chin as he presses a thumb to your lips and wipes away the drool collecting at the corner.
There’s a horrible, sinking, feeling settling inside you as he grabs the collar of your shirt and hoists you up with him onto the bed, your limbs going limp as you let him press an open-mouthed kiss to your trembling lips, his tongue slipping inside of your slack mouth.
You feel used.
Up close to Iwaizumi, you can see the flush of arousal coloring his bronzed cheeks, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, all the physical evidence of just how good you made him feel, and your stomach churns.
Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel fingers softly stroking at your clit, light, teasing strokes back and forth that leave you whimpering. A twinge of arousal pulses in your cunt as you hear words murmured against your inner thigh.
“Didn’t even try to fight back, did you?” There’s a gentle laugh from the pink-haired man beneath you, soft and terrifying, and the light brushes turn into more insistent circles. “It’s almost like you wanted it.”
Iwaizumi’s tongue curls deeper into your mouth as he deepens the kiss, leaving you gasping for breath.
“I had no idea you’d turn out to be such a slut,” he hums, mouth latching onto your thigh. “Although I’m really not complaining.”
“C’mon, Makki, don’t be so mean to her,” Iwaizumi chuckles, his teeth scraping roughly against your lips.
“I’m only telling the truth.”
The fingers circling your pussy creep upwards, grabbing onto your hips and pushing you down against the mattress. “Keep those legs spread nice and open for me, okay?” Makki says, voice sweet and cloying.
When the flat of his tongue brushes against your clit, his breath huffing warm on your folds, your thighs twitch involuntarily. It’s as if he’s made it his mission to eat you out as slow and light as possible, his kitten-licks and teasing strokes sliding along your folds and circling around your sweet spots without ever truly giving you the satisfaction that your cunt craves.
And he can tell you’re starting to break.
As Iwaizumi’s mouth moves down to suck at your neck, lips brushing along the erratic heartbeat of your pulse point, your hips jerk upwards against Makki’s waiting mouth as a moan slips out from between your lips.
He sucks at your aching clit, the steady, constant pressure making you writhe in his grasp. “Cute little cunt wants more, doesn’t i?” he coos.
You don’t dare say a word, face flushed with embarrassment as you bite your inner cheek in embarrassment. Makki’s right.
He’s right, and you hate that he’s right, hate how good he’s making you feel with every long, languid, lick, with every brush of his lips that leaves your walls throbbing in search of more.
A hand picks up your limp wrist, guiding your fingers until they wrap around something warm and hard, something incredibly thick and so, so, long -
You freeze as you realize it’s a cock.
“Mattsun’s blessed, isn’t he?” Makki laughs from between your thighs. “Maybe now you’ll understand that I’m really trying to do you a favor. We want these sheets stained with cum, not blood.”
You swallow nervously. That monster cock, so big you can barely fit your hand around it, is going inside you.
You’re paralyzed with dread, not even bothering to fight back as he maneuvers your palm up and down along his length, wrapping his much larger hand around yours as he uses your fist to help jerk him off.
All the revulsion in the world can’t stop the slow, mounting, wave of pressure building inside your core, growing stronger as Makki sucks with more force against your clit. Crooked fingers push inside your slick, needy, hole, his nimble digits searching and prodding, the pads of his fingertips rubbing insistently at your g-spot.
“See?” he murmurs. “‘m making you feel so good. You’re gonna be nice and ready when I’m done with you.”
You want to scream. You feel like a whore for enjoying anything at all; bile and guilt rising in your throat as white-hot arousal throbs in your cunt.
You’re strung out along the edge when you feel another mouth descending on your body, a tongue flicking out to tease at your nipple. You see a flash of chestnut brown hair as Oikawa looks up at you, a smirk curving at the corners of his mouth, almost as if he knows exactly what he’s doing, knows where your limits are and how to push right past them.
It’s too much for you to handle, too much for you to take. Three mouths ravage your body, tongues flicking out to lick at your neck and suck at your nipples and drag along your clit, silky and sensual against your soft skin, all while your slack hand pumps steadily along the shaft of a huge cock.
When an orgasm rips through your body, it’s like something stolen, something taken from you, and as your hips buck and thrash wildly, an emptiness settles in your stomach after you’re all fucked out from their ministrations.
What’s wrong with you?
At this point, you don’t feel like much more than a sex doll for the four men, all spread out and useless as you lay your head in Iwaizumi’s lap. He strokes gently at your hair, brushing a stray strand out of your face.
You barely even react as Mattsun manhandles you up, large hands positioning your hips until the head of his fully hard cock sits at your entrance, sliding just the tip into your loosened, clenching, hole.
“Ready?” he asks, his half-lidded eyes glinting with amusement.
He doesn’t really care about your answer.
“One… two… three.”
He forces you down on his cock, pushing your hips further and further down as you squirm and struggle and moan from the stretch. Your mind goes foggy as you feel the drag of his cock against the front of your walls, burying itself so deep in your cunt you can almost feel it in your stomach.
Mattsun likes it when his dick makes girls feel good, of course, when he fucks them better than their boyfriends, when he makes them cream and gush after barely moving.
He likes it better when he makes girls go stupid.
As he looks down at you, a warm rush of arousal twists in his gut. Your eyelids flutter in pleasure, mouth open and panting, small hands fisting at his shirt as you moan softly. It’s just too big for you to take, isn’t it? You can't handle being used like a pretty fuckdoll, or eaten out until you cream, or to be impaled on a cock so nice and big you can barely think straight. A string of drool falls from the corner of your mouth, but he doesn’t bother cleaning it up. You look better ruined, he thinks.
You’re dragged out of your fucked-out daze when a voice crawls into your ear, taunting and cruel, and a warm dick presses and slides along your ass.
“Bet Kageyama’s never tried this before,” Oikawa says.
A spurt of terror grips you as you hear the thinly-veiled anticipation in his voice, his fingers trembling with excitement as they grope at your ass.
He holds back a laugh at the way you freeze, shuddering in a mixture of fear and pleasure as Mattsun rolls his hips up and thrusts his cock even deeper. He knows he guessed right, judging from your cute little reaction, a high-pitched, pathetic whimper dropping from your lips as brushes his cock against your hole.
He hopes it hurts.
When he presses in, it’s a slow, aching, stretch that leaves you feeling raw and split wide open. Unlike the dull pain from Mattsun’s cock, this one is a searing, brutal, torment, a stinging intrusion in your tight hole that forces a choked gasp from your lungs.
“Wish your boyfriend could see us right now,” he breathes, pressing a gentle kiss to the crook of your neck. “Feels so good squeezing my cock, so fucking nice and tight.”
Tobio.
Panic races along your veins. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, breasts bouncing slightly as your breaths come shallow and rapid.
“I can’t imagine how he’d feel - seeing his perfect little angel getting stuffed so full in both her precious holes.”
The tightness in your chest bursts as tears stream down your face, cries and moans coming out thick and stuffy as you sob. You know he’s right. It didn’t matter that it was forced, that you said you didn’t want it - you already came once, didn’t you? And judging by the tense pleasure pulsing at your clit, you were due for another sooner or later.
Oikawa laughs. “It’d be awful if he came back right now, wouldn’t it? Just in time to watch his precious little girlfriend getting raped by his former senpai.”
Mattsun snickers, bring a hand up to swipe at your clit. “Look,” he says softly, tilting your head until you lock eyes with Makki.
He’s fisting his cock rapidly, a hungry, predatory, expression on his face, tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he lets out a pleasured groan.
It’s better than almost any of his gross little fantasies. He’s not sure his favorite porn videos will ever be able to compare to the sight of you being fucked stupid and split in two by his friends, two cocks sliding in and out of your tired holes as you cry.
You squeeze your eyes shut as the first waves of the orgasm begin to roll over you. Mattsun’s deft, long, fingers toy with your clit, stroking you insistently through the wild jerking of your hips as he feels your walls fluttering and creaming around the base of his dick. The pleasure is intense, unbearable, almost impossible to hold back, even as disgust crawls beneath your skin at the feeling of being stretched wide open.
Maybe they were right.
All those times you’d thought about what you’d do if this happened, every single night when you’d lie awake and tell yourself, i’ll fight back. i’ll resist. i’ll make them regret ever forcing me -
They were all lies.
Oikawa feels a sick sense of satisfaction as he watches the turmoil in your expression. He can tell by the slump of your shoulders, the bitterness in your gaze, the way you turn over to your side and curl up into a fetal position - they broke you, turned you into a mindless, slutty, fuckdoll, showed you who you really were.
Kageyama can have you back now. He’ll come into this hotel room, horrified at the sight of you passed out and naked, and call the police. Maybe he’ll help wash you up, bring you a cup of tea as you sob and insist that it wasn’t your fault. Maybe he’ll even believe you, despite the way you’ve stained the sheets.
But things won’t ever really be the same for you.
They made sure of it.
Tumblr media
if you liked this, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! my inbox is always open :)
308 notes · View notes
veenxys · 4 days ago
ummm hi mel! its my first time requesting at your blog! it's been a couple days following you and i really like your content!! uh if you r still opening your request can i req for shinsou and shoto /or any of your choices a hcs reacting to their s/o (or crushes that'll be cute) who has cramps (or anything related) but if you arent taking any request rn, just ignore this! ilysm pls stay dehydrated luv <3
ps. im on my 'period' and your blog really comforts me シ♡
»»————- ★ ————-««
a/n: hi darling, i'm happy to know that I can bring you some comfort! please take care of yourself okay? i hope you get better soon. <3 
»»————- ★ ————-««
⤷  Shoto
Shoto always looks at you, after all you are his crush
So he quickly notices your behavior change, and he is very concerned about it.
He doesn't want to be invasive or look weird about asking you what happened since you didn't say anything, he just looks at you while trying to think of some excuse to go talk to you or ask if you're okay.
His expression of confusion is quickly replaced by concern when you place your hand on your belly, as if you are trying to relieve the pain through small massages.
This makes him even more worried and not knowing what to do. Of course he wants to help his crush/best friend, but... how?
You were getting ready for bed when you hear a soft knock on your door, you sighed deeply and reluctantly went to the door. You didn't want to receive anyone now, the pain was unbearable and you just wanted to go to sleep to try to relieve it.
‘’... Shoto?’’ You say confused when you open the door and see Todoroki biting his lip, a bag in his hand and the other hand in his pocket.
‘’Oh, hi... I realized that you were kinda… bad today. I hope this helps.’’ He says and hands you the bag. You smile at him, happy to know that he cares about you.
You open the bag and your smile grows even more when you see some meds, water, tea bags and your favorite sweets. Shoto's heart is racing in his chest and he can't help but smile when you hug him in thanks.
»»————- ★ ————-««
⤷ Shinsou
Shinsou knows your body language, so he quickly realizes when you are feeling bad or sad.
And he asks if you need something or if has something he can do for you, after all you are best friends! well, he wanted something more but...
Anyway, there is no point in lying and saying that everything is fine, he will do everything possible and impossible to find out what is happening and help you in the best possible way.
Shinsou's reaction is a little unexpected when you tell him that you have cramps. He really wants to help you but he has no idea what to do in a situation like that, so he gets a little shy and confused.
‘’It’s okay, Shinsou.’’ You say laughing ‘’I’ll be fine… I guess.’’
He looks at you with a concerned look when you grimace in pain.
‘’Is there anything I can do to help you?’’
You look at him for a few minutes and smile in embarrassment.
.
''I was expecting a better ending..'' Shinsou says teasing you, smiling against your ear as he snuggles up to you even more, still massaging your belly.
You roll your eyes and try to explain to him (for the second time) the end of your favorite movie. He just smiles and closes his eyes as you speak, enjoying every moment with you.
If someone told Shinsou that he would spend the night taking care of his crush while watching their favorite movie, he would just laugh and say it would have no chance of happening. But well, look where he is now...
»»————- ★ ————-««
173 notes · View notes
sideblogformindtrash · 5 days ago
Text
I let Blue have some of my memories mixed in with his so… oddly personal, this one. And a tad bit less Blue-being-fun-and-cute.
CW: No-con/dub-con; Pet whump; dehumanization; alcohol/intoxication; low self-esteen; memory loss;
…It nuzzled at Master Warren’s leg. It was starting to get really bored, and struggled not to yawn. Master petted it, without even looking.
It had some friends over today, and they were chatting happily. With first Master, Blue would have been terrified. Visits were always the worst…
But Warren always said he wouldn’t let anyone touch it. Blue was only his. And when his friends asked to hurt or touch Blue, other times, he was quickly into defending the dumb pet. So, Blue wasn’t worried. It was safe. And well, just a little bored.
Master casually took a glass down. Blue looked at him, and he nodded softly, so Blue took a sip. It tasted a bit weird and not bad. Bitter. Blue liked it. It smiled. But also… It felt familiar, bringing back some hazy little memories.
It was that of…. Color. Changing at a steady beat to loud music that filled the cramped space where people bumped into each other, smiling, flirting, and drinking. Drinking, drinking, the place smelled of alcohol, and it got worst as time went on, but by then it didn’t matter. It never mattered.
And there was this large mirror. Checkered walls of big black-and-white squares, and someone painting on their lips with dark lipstick, and someone talking about their breakup and crying into its arms, as it told them they were the most amazing person ever despite never seeing each other before, or after that day.
It was followed by an even shadier memory of walking down on a dimly lit street in odd morning hours. Stumbling, more or less falling over three other people, that were also laughing and happy and nothing made much sense as alcohol turned everything into a blur. It’s body was tired, but it was good. It wasn’t exhaustion, or fear or stress, it was just… tired. Craving a bed that was there for it to lay on. A memory smelling like alcohol and bitter cigarette smoke, drunkely laughing. Of being followed by this vague notion that something was off, almost laminar, and that the world would break down and disappear because those were not good hours to be outside.
…Vague memories that Blue should not have because Blue was a dumb pet, had always been a dumb pet, would always be a dumb pet. It never was outside unless with Master, it never had alcohol like that, it didn’t have any friends to laugh with it.
Vague, distant, and belonged in that little corner of its mind, with the other stuff Blue wanted to forget. So it did.
But the alcohol expanded the frontiers of that corner, it seemed, as its entire world turned into a vague, foggy place, populated with ghosts.
Warren smile at him, and returned his attention to his friends, as Blue nuzzled Bonnie, closing its eyes. It could almost sleep there, despite the voices and the light. Warren was nice. Warren wouldn’t get angry at it.
But soon enough, he smelled alcohol again, close enough to fill and burn its nostrils. It obediently opened its mouth, taking another sip. And another one soon after.
Blue wanted to sleep. Sleep this night away. But Master was getting it drunk, with the very casual, innocent-looking little sips at his drink. It noticed by the way things got hazy, and the little tremor on its hands, its face getting flushed. It kept drinking anyway.
It also noticed Master’s hands getting more invasive, on the crook of its neck, its face, its lips, inside its mouth. Blue accepted Master’s fingers, licking on them like an obedient dog. But… a tad bit, as something else too. Someone else, so long ago.
Blue didn’t even mind when his friends left, and Master – also kind of drunk, face flushed – lifted it and pressed it against the wall. Master kissed Blue then. Master never did that, when he was sober, he thought Blue was disgusting. Now he didn’t care, and neither did Blue, as it returned the kiss with as much passion as it could.
Blue held Master’s back, and the words whispered – “You are beautiful”, “I love you” – where someone else’s words, clothes falling into the ground. Right now, alcohol clouding his brain, Blue could pretend he was someone else… And almost believe it.
Someone who was whole, worthy of love. Someone who was happy, and that Blue had been, once.  
Tagging:@whumpropaganda​ @whumpzone​ @lave-whump​ @freefallingup13​​ @fanmanga1357-blog​ @lightdrinker​ @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @tears-and-lilies​ @temporary-whump-sideblog​
28 notes · View notes
sailorhyunjinz · 6 days ago
Imagine skz realizing their s/o reads smuts about them .... sksksksksk
PLEASE I SO WANNA DO A HEADCANON ON THIS 
LEZ GO HEADCANON/REACTION (i swear i know the difference i just dont know what to call these LMAO)
Warnings; SMUT!!! mentions of rough sex, mentions of pegging, mentions of threesomes, mentions of degredation, sub/dom!skz x gn!reader
bangchan
“o-oh”
he just needed to check the weather on your phone or smth
but was instead greeted by hardcore smut with him choking and fucking the reader
I MEAN,,, HE KNEW 
BUT STILL VERY SHOCKED 
“why dont you read the cute like fluffy stuff? like going on dates by the beach or getting a dog together or something?” 
you try to act innocent like “read? i do read book with those themes if you didnt kn-”
“no i mean the things about me”
realisation just HIT 
“chan,,, how much did you read??”
“maybe like 3 or 4 pieces, all very rough??”
smile through the pain, you’re busted and theres nothing you can do about it lmao
minho
“here i am,,, thinking my partner was so excited over news articles but no,,, oh no they reading about wanting to dom me. never baby”
he says it in such a serious tone so you’re cracking up, half embarrassed, half amused.
but he doesnt even blink
“also why the fuck does changbin get to fuck but im stuck jerking off in a random ass corner?”
so defensive
justice for minho in fics
starts judging how its written
“the writer doesnt describe my handsome face?”
changbin
“Y/N!!! COME HERE!!”
you skip into the room, your buff boyfriend sitting infront of your computer scrolling through a smut post you hadn’t bothered clicking down
“this is pretty hot not even gonna lie”
you punch him playfully on the shoulder but it doesnt make him move an inch
“c-can you not?! thats invasion of private property!!”
“ ’ah fuck yes changbin, im yours’ doesnt sound like private property”
you slam the computer screen shut and walk out but he grabs your wrist
“do,,, do you wanna try?”
“try what?”
“you know,,, recreate those,,,”
hyunjin
“b-but im right here?”
so confused??
like why would you need to read about having sex with him
WHEN HE WAS THERE??
rolls his eyes and starts making fun of you 
“y/n wants to be called a whore!!”
but then discovers smth really kinky that you like
idk like being tied up or restrained or smth
eyebrow wiggle 
“hey y/n i just wanna test something” 
you’re cooking food and you nod
he takes both of your hands behind your back and CLICK
mf had handcuffs behind his back 
“WH- HYUNJIN WHERE DID YOU EVEN-?”
he leans in real close to your ear, pressing his chest against your back
“dumb baby didn’t know that i would have found out, hm? reading those dirty things behind my back every night”
jisung
“my dick is not small”
you’re like wtf,,, he just says it randomly while you were grabbing a snack from the kitchen
“in that story you’re reading, it says that i have a small dick”
FUCK FUCK FUCK YOU LEFT THE DAMN PHONE UNLOCKED
you cant even say anything, you just frozen, with a packet of crisps in your hands
“what more stories are there of me? are there any with me and a big dick?”
“JISUNG, SHUT UP”
felix
GIGGLY BOY
he vibes with it but kinda pouty because why didnt you tell him what you wanted to do in bed
baby starts worrying that maybe he’s not good enough :((
highkey loves the sub fics OOP
“y/n, i wanna try this”
he says, showing you a fic about him getting pegged/buttfucked
you’re all like static tv noises at first cause how the fuck did he even find out
but ya know,,,, it opened door ;))
seungmin
“do you want to fuck my bandmates?”
bruh you choke on your mf water
“w-wha? why would i-”
“especially jisung, theres just countless links of jisung smut in your history”
you’re impressed over how calm he is?? 
“s-smut? pffft,,, i dont read that,,,”
he pulls out his phone cause he took a picture of what you were reading and you just wanted to sink underground and stay there forever.
“I quote; ‘jisung grabbed his leaking cock an-”
“IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY I WAS JUST CURIOUS, SPARE MY EARS”
he just chuckles, looking up from his phone with his sharp eyes
“should be me instead...”
jeongin
“wait is that the new volume of that manga?”
he says all pouty before he jumps on top of you, you lying on your stomach on the bed, deep into the story until you scrolled down and boom
the smexy scenes started ;)))
you quickly scroll up again but he’s all like;
“wait scroll down,,, im pretty sure i saw my name”
he grabs the phone out of your hand and runs away
“WAIT PEOPLE WRITE THIS ABOUT ME?!”
flops down on the floor out of embarrassment 
and you flop down on top of him
just a pile of embarrassment
164 notes · View notes
welldonekhushi · 6 days ago
Text
Superhero
Tumblr media
This is written for the special "Superhero Day"! I know I might be late but timezones suck oof :')
Anyways, enjoy this imagine! Even if it's just a stupid random idea but I did it anyways lmao—
Summary: Tony saves you during the Chitauri invasion.
Timeline: The Avengers (2012)
Warnings: Superhero stuff? But something cute is coming up when you go further ;)
It was the battle of New York. Strange creatures from space were attacking the entire city, maybe further with the world, and destroying every property and life of people. You were one of them, trying to survive from those evil space monsters, as you called, but in real they were the Chitauri. Running along with the messy crowd, who's were not sure where to go and hide from the massacre, because of being trapped in a huge building on the top floor, where danger is imminent. To escape, a lot of choices were not possible of the face, courtesy to the alien attack.
Your breath hitching and adrenaline secreting, panic filled your wake. It felt like it was over for you, but looking at many other people trapped with you around was what made you feel a bit encouraged, hoping that they can think of something quick soon.
The attacks increased, soon and each after every building was being destroyed by them, meeting screams and shrieks by their side. You didn't cry or shout because everything was just like a horror movie to you with bad things happening.
But, the moment everyone's expectations increased when the mighty Avengers, arrived at the scene. You suddenly smiled when you saw Iron Man and Thor, flying towards the almost damaged building you all were in, smashing through the glass, and everyone cheered that they were finally safe and sound. You too sighed in relaxation and relief, smiling.
Just then, Iron Man started speaking through his suit.
— Alright, hiding time's over. Time for the pickup. Thor, you help the others, I'll for the rest.
Thor grabbed some of the people in his arms and then using his hammer to safely move down the ground, whereas for the Iron Man? It was different.
— Okay, everyone else will hold onto me tight, or else one of us is gonna have a bad landing.
Everyone nodded in agreement, holding onto him but for you it was kind of.. weird.
Since there was no space for you to handle him, he quickly thought of a plan to set you along.
The building started crippling from it's surface, threatening to fall. After that, he turned to you.
— I want you to sit on my lap and hold my chest.
You gasped, what did he just say?
It let out a blush from your side, but you had to be very quick since everyone too were to be rescued. He forwarded his thigh in front of you, as you gently sit and then hold onto his chest. He started his repulsors and then flew off from the now destroyed building. Flying everyone to safety, he gently landed over the road, letting the people go and run somewhere safe. You were still held onto his chest, with your eyes clenched.
— Dear, you're safe now.
Gasping, and opening your eyes. You see around yourself, no longer in the building and were held onto the billionaire genius, for no reason. Quickly holding off, you blushed and tried to forget what happened.
— S-sorry, I was just too afraid.
— No problem, when I'm with you, why do you even need to be?
Turning back at the genius, your blush increased more. Tony did notice that, making him slightly chuckle.
— Anyways, I gotta go. The city is in trouble. Oh! I think you forgot this.
Tony handed your wallet, shocking you to the core.
— It was in the building. You would have lost it.
— O-oh, thanks..
You take your wallet away, waving him goodbye.
— Stay away from everything you see, and don't trip like the last time.
— Of course!
Iron Man left after dropping you, flying across the sky. You sighed in relief and thankful that the billionaire genius had saved the day once more. Looking if you didn't lose anything in your wallet, your attention went towards a card. You take it out to see it was written, it has his number with a note — "Call me once this bullshit's over. Love ya~"
You squealed and covered your mouth in surprise. Really? He gave you his number? The Iron Man itself?
— Damn it Stark, who knew you could be such a surprise?
Smiling heartily, you couldn't stop your happiness at all. This could have been the best day ever.
20 notes · View notes
ducktales-wco-oo · 7 days ago
Text
✩ { @calvinssins​​​ } ✩ - Continued from ★
{ ☆ } Angel likes Blake... If one were to ask him why he puts up with the testy and admittedly-dangerous swan, then the far-more-vulnerable-appearing call duck would have an interesting answer: ‘Because they let me.’ They let him. It’s clear that Blake isn’t accustomed to having people around. Especially someone as invasive and consistent as Angel. Yet here the small male is, plopping himself down onto a lap as if it was second nature, deciding to test just how far he can push his luck. Push the demeanor Blake is so set on showcasing for themself.
Stupid? Perhaps... Fun and interesting? Definitely. And when it’s all said and done, Angel would fervently defend that this is just as much for Blake’s benefit as his own. Because there’s no way Angel will believe that loneliness is preferable to having someone— even if that someone is HIM —cuddled up close, soft and warm... and very tired at the snippiness that normally Angel would attempt to handle with more tact.
Puffing out a gust of air at Blake’s response to the new nickname— that Angel fully attempts to use again at a later date —bangs fluff into the air for a moment from the force of their sass, eyes rolling at the chastising about their appearance. As if Angel needs to be told that. Frankly, they pride themselves on looking pretty and enticing for Blake, knowing how much the swan enjoys having a cute little thing to destroy... and Angel would be lying if he claimed that he didn’t fill with excitement at the way Blake would hungrily gaze at him, blatant pleasure— sadistic or not —arising in that stunningly-purple eye at the thoughts of everything they could do. No, it’s definitely a mutually-beneficial relationship, as it SHOULD be.
But Angel hadn’t been planning on getting any from Blake tonight, so appearance isn’t exactly an issue. At least, that’s Angel’s reasoning behind it. Pretty sound logic, if they do say so themself. What isn’t sound logic is the way eyes widen with surprise at the flash of steel against their throat, gaze flickering down to the blade and body instinctively tensing... before irritation causes their brow to knot, beak puckering in a slight pout that screams ‘I’m too tired for this shit’ as golden hues raise to look at violet with far more impatience and far LESS fear than they should. Leaning away from the knife, a hand moving to attempt and push Blake’s hand a smidge further away, Angel honestly doesn’t care if the gesture proves futile.
It’s simply about doing it in the first place.
❝  How about- choosing neither?  ❞  Remaining mostly still to avoid being nicked or worse by the knife if it remains by their throat, Angel snips,  ❝  I don’t belong to you right now. I’m not yours to share...  ❞  Defiant as those words might be, the following statement does confusingly-soften them, even if the tone is far from respectful towards ‘Blake or Sir’.  ❝  I’m here because I want to be. Not because I have to.  ❞  Which is the better of the two options, in his opinion. For BOTH of them.  ❝  And the only thing I’m telling you about him is that he was amazing in bed... Well— more like, against a wall but y’know.  ❞  Most usually wouldn’t cheekily shrug when in a position like this... but Angel isn’t like most. Frankly, if they get their throat slit because of this- so be it.
It’s been a pretty good day... and there are far worse ways to go than after some good sex and while sitting on a comfortable lap of someone Angel actually likes. 
They definitely aren’t about to surrender the poor schmuck to a fate of literally being skinned alive just to avoid it. Not that Angel would consider themself friends with or even fond of the mystery man. Frankly, they can scarcely remember his name. But he doesn’t deserve to face Blake’s wrath, no matter how rude or pushy he might have been. In the end, Angel had decided it’d be easier and more beneficial to consent to the larger male’s blatantly crude whims, and he’d gotten some pretty fantastic sex out of it. As did the apparently very pent-up co-worker... A win-win.
As are ALL of Angel’s sexual escapades.
❝  Besides, I’m not the only one who has sex with other people.  ❞  The small duck points out, arms crossing and a brow raising as they object,  ❝  You can’t mess up people and then get mad when someone else does the same thing to me. That’s not fair.  ❞  Statement is firmly made, Angel surprisingly adamant when it comes to what they deem as ‘fair’.  ❝  You have the choice to make. Either only have sex with me, accept that other people are going to hurt me too, or cut my throat and then NO ONE gets to.    
❝  But I’m not stopping unless you do.  ❞  { ☆ }  
1 note · View note
cawforbrandon · 8 days ago
Text
Coming to Terms with Citrus
Before we get into this Wednesday’s topic, I need to put out a disclaimer so that we’re on the same page. What I am about to say is coming from a place that takes the story at face value. I am NOT good at this, and I will definitely get things wrong. So please, 
Go NUTS in the comments...(No, really. Please share your thoughts after this. Help me know what I got wrong.) 
Tumblr media
I put off writing my thoughts on this particular series for many good reasons. For a start, I am but just a straight man and given that I’m about to judge a series about two lesbians....It doesn’t look like a good sign for me. But, seeing as how I have been joining several groups and observing comments towards this particular subject. 
I feel like I can finally make a good statement as to what my thoughts are for this series while explaining a little deeper in regards to the audience this series has attracted. Let’s discuss...
- < Citrus > by Saburouta -
< Citrus >, if you didn't know. Is an infamous Yuri incest Manga that follows our first main character, Yuzu. (the blonde) whose mother just remarried to a man and said man has a daughter who is of the same age as Yuzu. Upon her first day of attending the new school that she was transferred to, Yuzu unknowingly ran into the student council president; Mei (the ravenhead) who to her shock, turns out to be her new stepsister.
As a lovely time of first night bonding over what’s it like to kiss someone. (He says sarcastically) They did...THIS. 
Tumblr media
Description: Mei getting on top of Yuzu and forcefully kissing her. See why I don't want to talk about this series now?
While this isn’t the only series that involves Yuri (Girl’s love) and Incest. It was my personal introduction to what the Anime community considers as “trashy fan-service shows” Given that the Anime ended with a cliffhanger. I decided to read the Manga to give it a chance of redemption.
Believing myself to have gone through heaven and hell over this very series. I wondered to myself. Despite it being “trash”, why can’t I look away from it? After joining several forums and interacting while observing the community. I think I’ve developed several theories.
- Just Cute Girls, Doing Cute Things -
A little archaic as a pointer but, its just the truth. Upon first impressions, the creation of Saburouta is just plain pretty. From the settings to the main characters, to the designs of the supporting roles like Matsuri, Harumi and Himeko. Even the one-off characters like Sara and Nina are just as pretty.
Tumblr media
But at its core, < Citrus > is a very lackluster and fan-service series with little to no substance to the actions of certain characters with an all too vile display of invasive scenes and moments between certain characters. From Mei’s tendency to non-consensually attack Yuzu, to Matsuri getting all too close to both MCs on occasions. In summary, just a Gay old time!
For context, I read the series for a whole three days and while reading. I can’t help but feel that the drama feels hollow and the ending (trying not to bring up spoilers) was unearned. While I may have not struggled with questioning my preference, I do understand some of the reasons as to why Yuzu and Mei chose to keep their relationship hidden from their family and friends. 
Chalking it up as just “being very close to my step-sister” Adding on, if the situation was a real-life incident. It would get very messy and awkward during family gatherings.
Tumblr media
Several forums speculate that while Saburouta’s intent was to make a wholesome Yuri with incidental Incest. She had to make more “commercial” changes to ensure that the series sells. As an old marketing saying goes “sex just sells” 
While that is based on purely speculation. Its not that strange of a theory. Romance in any shape or form is always exaggerated in media. (Just ask the heteronormative ones) Like it or not, by creating more raunchy scenes between the characters. < Citrus > managed to make bank and with the anime in the works while the manga is nearing the finale. 
Uta was given the confidence to take the narrative deeper with a more liberating direction in < Citrus Plus >. Expanding on what happened in-between the several last chapters and removing the raunchy tendencies little by little. On the forum, several commentators recommended a stark contrast when compared to < Citrus > The critically acclaimed Yuri Manga; < Bloom Into You > by Nio Nakatani.
- A Modern Yuri Fight -
When discussing the more modern Yuri scene, < Citrus > is often compared to < Bloom Into You >. Which is not surprising since the respective Anime’s came out on the same year in 2018 under different seasons. (Citrus on Winter and Bloom Into You on Fall) 
Tumblr media
As a comparison, The relationship with the MCs; Touko and Yuu (the light pink haired girl) are far healthier and less invasive. The series is less fan-service and more about the characters discovering themselves and learning the meaning of love. To prevent myself from ranting, I highly recommend < Bloom Into You > to new audiences of the Yuri manga scene but for the sake of this post. Let’s just say while it may not be perfect, its just better.
As for the fans of both series, we are well aware as to why and how it is better. Instead of invasive fan-service incest, we have a cute one-year-older senior and junior relationship with friendly banters and teasing. As a bonus, we also have a rather complex and relatable character like Yuu. (Further expansion required)
Tumblr media
Needless to say, I’m a far bigger fan of how unpreachy < Bloom Into You > was. Showcasing the romance itself as just simply...love. Here in lies our second problem. < Citrus > and < Bloom Into You > are two very different stories centered on just the fact that WE the audience, classify them as Yuri (Girl’s Love).
Like comparing apples to oranges, < Citrus > feels like something written for an audience that fetishizes same gendered relationships while < Bloom Into You > feels a lot more relatable and realistic to actual people who too, struggle with their preference. Pealing away the fetish aspect and making it about the internal turmoil's of a complicated character. As mentioned in an old post of mine;
Being queer in real life is complicated and is often met with prejudice and strong judgement. In some countries, you could even die just for being queer so, to see queer characters being represented in a certain media or to even watch a character learn to come to terms with their preference is a proud thing.
That being said, it still doesn’t answer the main question. What was the theory? Pretty characters, questionable motivations stacked with the issues of how the industry views romance in any form. It sounds like there is no salvage to this ship. For that, we will have to turn to Uta’s newest addition; < Citrus Plus >
- I Want to Love -
Tumblr media
When joining the forums about the Yuri scene, I managed to stumble across this question to the followers and members of said community.
“Why is it difficult to be a straight person but liking same gendered relationships, even if it’s from a Manga?” 
The question may sound like an odd Segway but to entertain the idea. I decided to read the comments to get an inkling as to what the discourse thinks. By pure observation, there is an issue of the audience hypersexualizing same gendered characters and relationships which speaking from experience, can warp our perception to the subject. 
The problem with say, a straight male liking Yuri manga or Yuri media despite it being just a piece of media one prefers to consume. May come across as a viewer seeing what they consume as all that it is. A Fetish. While unintended and its no fault to someone like say, Saburouta. It is after all, a piece of public media. How the audience interprets it is up to them.
That being said, some of us just like warm, fuzzy, less angsty romance stories. I personally, am a hopeless romantic as mentioned in [The Thing With Shipping] But even I have moments where I fall into this tendency of shipping two female characters together, way too hard that it becomes very dangerous. At the same time, Even I have standards as to what makes a ship good.
Tumblr media
The First Volume covers for Citrus on the left and Citrus Plus on the Right.
Description: Yuzu being hugged from the back by Mei with several differences. On the left, Yuzu looks bashful and uncomfortable while Mei gazed in a lustful way. On the right, its the same pose except Yuzu is brightly smiling and its Mei being bashful. On their hands there is a clear display of matching rings on their fingers.  
< Citrus > was a tough spot for me personally because while it is a pretty looking Yuri. Its core plot and resolves are extremely questionable with hollow substance as to why I should support the ship itself. But, thanks to the addition of < Citrus Plus > The audience, (or the ones who stayed because they are completionist. cough* ME!) The relationship between Yuzu and Mei becomes a little bit more understanding. I still hold my initial comments the same as I did after catching up to < Citrus Plus> until I realized something through one picture.
Tumblr media
Description: Yuzu cuddling with Mei, with earphones to one side of their ears. listening to music in the cold dark night. Resting peacefully...
Out of context, this is just a typical fluffy fanart to tug on the viewer’s heartstrings but when you are like me, someone who is invested in the series from the very beginning to its current state. You’ll recognize it more. The works of Saburouta IS IN FACT, an incest Yuri...but so much more. 
Its about Mei finally being able to open up her heart to someone after being cold and distant for so long. Its Yuzu learning to come to terms with herself and the love she had for her step-sister and partner. Its Mei being able to find genuine comfort with Yuzu and vice versa.
Its about acceptance to one’s feelings while also being aware of the messed up situation that they’re in. Its the character’s respective turmoil being put to rest and them finally given peace with themselves after the various obstacles they had to go through. A quick PSA;
This post does NOT condone Incest or any blood related/ not blood related conoldle doodling.
For a messed up story, < Citrus > is perhaps similar to the likes of a < Domestic Girlfriend >. An all too fictional-but-could-be-real drama that just keeps getting more interesting and we can’t turn away from it. After struggling to find a proper statement as to why I liked and hated this series at the same time. I think I may have found my defense.
Tumblr media
In the end of the day, for all the messed up moments they bring us. We just want to see them happy. I want to see them happy. What I've learned to come to terms with < Citrus > is that, just as how a good story can have messed up moments. A messed up story can also have a good moments. In fact, I liked some of the more tender moments Yuzu and Mei shared every once in a while. Yes, I am aware that there are stories out there with better representation.
I STILL feel the same as I did with the overall plot and I believe that the ending was still, heavily unearned, but this series truly was much less about the ending and more about the journey. The series < Citrus > has now become a household name for "Trashy fan-service Yuri" consumers will always have a strong opinion for which I will like and strongly critique, always.
Thanks for Reading
- B -
59 notes · View notes
polnareffenjoyer · 8 days ago
Text
random polnareff headcanons
polnareff my beloved (also some mild cursing ahead)
He's a big dumb bitch but he will go above and beyond to make you feel loved and special. The only thing that's bigger than his boobs is his heart. This man can go from 0 to 100 in seconds, from barely being able to stop himself from blushing like a madman in your presence to chivalrous and confident, throwing compliments your way. Giving you cute little personalized gifts whenever you're having a tough day or week. Your favourite flowers, favourite cake, a little thing you mentioned liking once. He remembers all of it. He's always happy to see your face light up whenever he brings you gifts. He's basically a puppy, awaiting your praise.
He'll literally worship you like a goddess. A random guy is harassing you? He'll be by your side in a heartbeat to put him in his place. Someone talks down on you? Oh honey, they got a big storm coming. He's never afraid to jump in your defense when there's a need to do so. You're extremely special to him and he had already lost enough loved ones in his life, can't risk getting you hurt. He might become invasive sometimes or paranoid, especially if you don't answer his texts for a long time. If you feel he's being too pushy, just tell him and he'll respect your boundaries, or at least try to.
He'd never flirt with other women while being with you. He might be known for his flirtatious nature, but if Polnareff finally found someone he truly loved, you BET he would never look at another person again. He's literally blinded by your divine beauty. Congrats, you managed to completely bewitch him.
Will tell you amazing stories from his past. All of the adventures, his journeys with the crusaders (if you weren't there with him, of course). He might leave out the more violent parts, just to make sure you're not uncomfortable. Also you bet he'd NEVER talk about toilet accidents. This shit stays in the past.
Listening to soft music together, dancing in the warm sunlight. Little moments that make you melt, like watching old french movies together while cuddling on the sofa, his hand resting on your hip. He'll talk to you in French, whispering declarations of his undying love into your ear, calling you all kinds of pet names.
Speaking of pet names, this man LOVES them. Everything from mon coeur to mon cherie, he loves muttering them into your ear right after waking up in the morning, holding you close. He also loves it whenever you use them on him, use a French pet name on Polnareff and he's putty in your hands, even if you can't speak french. It makes him feel extra soft on the inside.
Helping him with trauma, caressing his cheeks softly while letting him talk about anything he needs to get off his chest. His late sister, the friends he had lost, his childhood. You're his shoulder to cry on and only person he can truly confide in, he couldn't be more grateful to have you in his life.
He's a great listener too, will let you rant for hours and cry your eyes out if you feel like you need to. Would never judge you, no matter what you did or what your past was like.
Will teach you some of his native tounge. No matter how hard you'd butcher it, he'll just laugh it off and tell that you're doing great. It's not that he's making fun of you, you're just so precious and cute to him he can't help but to smile while listening to your attempts at French. Deep down it makes his heart warm and fuzzy just thinking about how hard you're working for him, even trying to speak his language. Always happy to help you with pronunciation and with translating some words. If you happen to speak french already, he'd be very happy to chat with you and drop some sick punchlines that no one else can understand.
He LOVES amusement parks. Take him to one and he'll act like a kid. Not that he doesn't act like a kid all the time, but while there he just gets extra excited. Will buy you cotton candy and take you on all the biggest rides while there.
Cooking. This man loves to cook, he'll prepare some of his favourite dishes just for you. Also appreciates when you cook for him, he'll eat anything you prepare, even if it's a flop. It's burned? It's not, just extra crispy. Don't worry about it.
This man is all about PDA, he wants to show you off. He won't go to far if you're not comfortable with it, but little things like hand holding or resting his arm around your waist is a MUST!
Might make more of these, I just had to get it out my system. A little warmup y'know.
56 notes · View notes
besteestores · 9 days ago
Text
Rottweiller 4th of July Independence day American flag shirt https://besteestores.com/product/rottweiller-4th-of-july-independence-day-american-flag-shirt/ https://cdn.besteestores.com/image/2021/04/26/rottweiller-4th-of-july-independence-day-american-flag-shirt-classic-mens-t-shirt.jpg
New Post has been published on https://besteestores.com/product/rottweiller-4th-of-july-independence-day-american-flag-shirt/
Rottweiller 4th of July Independence day American flag shirt
Rottweiller 4th of July Independence day American flag shirt .besteestores Comfortable. It covers the besides I will buy this body yet stylish, no dupatta to carry around all day, no awkward moments while sitting or while moving around. A girl can be careless about her taking care of her dress once she wears jeans and tops. Invisible means no more cat-calls or whistles, which is good. It also means servers/clerks ..pretty much everybody you deal with treating you as if you no longer have a brain or exist. Everybody looks past you to see that cute young girl next in line, or at the next table. You might sit at a bar alone and the bartender will come to chat with you. At my age, you get your drink (eventually) and he’s gone. And nobody else will come by. Go to a gym, nobody helps you or talks to you. There is a lot of age discrimination in this country, it’s why so many are tempted by plastic surgery. We are very youth-oriented. I’m married so it doesn’t bother me as much, it’s just something I notice, but I have friends who are single, and finding a man who wants an older woman is not possible. They want women in their 20s or 30s, no matter how old they are. Nobody looks at us-we are old, useless and uninteresting, at least they think so. I’m not saying you should enjoy true invasions or constant boob staring or whatever – but do realize that youth has power in the US and enjoy your status. Whatever you decide to wear. The attention will be gone sooner than you think. No, impeaching a criminal President doesn’t hurt at all, if the image you want others to have of your country is that of a functional democracy capable of protecting itself from attacks against its Constitution and its most fundamental institutions. If, in turn, the image you want to create is that of a failed democracy, in which the personality cult of the President is considered more important than the laws that serve as the foundation of the country, and in which Constitution is only nominal — then, by all means, impeachment can undermine that particular brand you pursue. If you now go on to impeach another President, only this time due to blatant high misdemeanors and crimes, other democracies will let out an audible sigh of relief, thinking that America has finally come to its senses.
Rottweiller 4th of July Independence day American flag shirt, hoodie, sweater, longsleeve and ladies t-shirt
Classic Men’s
  Rottweiller 4th of July Independence day American flag shirt .besteestores The work of the besides I will buy this mechanic can be very complex, so this is not meant to be a comparison. What I understand is that you believe that the work of a doctor can be codified into simple individual skills and relatively clear decision paths. In my experience, even people with no formal training can pick up useful medical reflexes, as evidenced here on Quora. Furthermore, many believe that by reading guidelines and applying medical decision algorithms you are as useful, or even better, than a doctor. However, the real skill comes with the part that cannot be put down on paper. You see, the part that you can find in guidelines, research papers, and textbooks is the obvious part, the baseline. People mistakenly assume that by acquiring this kind of knowledge, which is a lengthy process if you look at the volume of the stuff, you are a good doctor. This is false. The hard part is actually realizing that practicing medicine is a work of interpretation, in the sense that you have to apply rigorous, formal knowledge onto a fuzzy problem, a patient that does not necessarily come with hard measurements or even with clear objectives. This requires a huge amount of experience, empathy, and communication skills. Now, the distance between a good doctor and someone who simply applies reflex knowledge is the distance between the above definition and a real beautiful shirt that goes well on you. Sportive, fit, and tall. Finnish girls tend to go to them and do sports, and being fit belongs to beauty standards. Facial beauty, make-up, and jewelry are OK but not grossly overdone – being slutty or giving a tarty impression is frowned upon. Tan, be it real or fake, is good. Eyes are on great importance, and most make-up is around the. Most girls prefer either all-blonde or all-black hair, and usually long. Older women prefer their natural color. The buxomer you are, the better, but not overtly – it is a sign of a disorder. It is OK to be a bit overweight, providing you are sportive and/or muscular and do not resemble the Michelin Man. lothing tends to be tight and fitting, but not too revealing. Jeans, pastel color trousers and leggings are the thing. If the weather is hot, loose dresses are favored. In winter, either woollen long coats, fur-lined jackets,and parkas or Thinsulate or eiderdown stuffed jackets are the thing as it is cold. You Can See More Product: https://besteestores.com/product-category/trending/
0 notes
besteestores · 11 days ago
Text
Bitcoin 2021 Dogecoin Who Let The Doge Out shirt https://besteestores.com/product/bitcoin-2021-dogecoin-who-let-the-doge-out-shirt/ https://cdn.besteestores.com/image/2021/04/24/bitcoin-2021-dogecoin-who-let-the-doge-out-shirt-classic-mens-t-shirt.jpg
New Post has been published on https://besteestores.com/product/bitcoin-2021-dogecoin-who-let-the-doge-out-shirt/
Bitcoin 2021 Dogecoin Who Let The Doge Out shirt
Bitcoin 2021 Dogecoin Who Let The Doge Out shirt .besteestores Comfortable. It covers the also I will do this body yet stylish, no dupatta to carry around all day, no awkward moments while sitting or while moving around. A girl can be careless about her taking care of her dress once she wears jeans and tops. Invisible means no more cat-calls or whistles, which is good. It also means servers/clerks ..pretty much everybody you deal with treating you as if you no longer have a brain or exist. Everybody looks past you to see that cute young girl next in line, or at the next table. You might sit at a bar alone and the bartender will come to chat with you. At my age, you get your drink (eventually) and he’s gone. And nobody else will come by. Go to a gym, nobody helps you or talks to you. There is a lot of age discrimination in this country, it’s why so many are tempted by plastic surgery. We are very youth-oriented. I’m married so it doesn’t bother me as much, it’s just something I notice, but I have friends who are single, and finding a man who wants an older woman is not possible. They want women in their 20s or 30s, no matter how old they are. Nobody looks at us-we are old, useless and uninteresting, at least they think so. I’m not saying you should enjoy true invasions or constant boob staring or whatever – but do realize that youth has power in the US and enjoy your status. Whatever you decide to wear. The attention will be gone sooner than you think. No, impeaching a criminal President doesn’t hurt at all, if the image you want others to have of your country is that of a functional democracy capable of protecting itself from attacks against its Constitution and its most fundamental institutions. If, in turn, the image you want to create is that of a failed democracy, in which the personality cult of the President is considered more important than the laws that serve as the foundation of the country, and in which Constitution is only nominal — then, by all means, impeachment can undermine that particular brand you pursue. If you now go on to impeach another President, only this time due to blatant high misdemeanors and crimes, other democracies will let out an audible sigh of relief, thinking that America has finally come to its senses.
Bitcoin 2021 Dogecoin Who Let The Doge Out shirt, hoodie, sweater, longsleeve and ladies t-shirt
Classic Women’s
Long Sleeved
Unisex Sweatshirt
Unisex Hoodie
Classic Men’s
Bitcoin 2021 Dogecoin Who Let The Doge Out shirt .besteestores The work of the also I will do this mechanic can be very complex, so this is not meant to be a comparison. What I understand is that you believe that the work of a doctor can be codified into simple individual skills and relatively clear decision paths. In my experience, even people with no formal training can pick up useful medical reflexes, as evidenced here on Quora. Furthermore, many believe that by reading guidelines and applying medical decision algorithms you are as useful, or even better, than a doctor. However, the real skill comes with the part that cannot be put down on paper. You see, the part that you can find in guidelines, research papers, and textbooks is the obvious part, the baseline. People mistakenly assume that by acquiring this kind of knowledge, which is a lengthy process if you look at the volume of the stuff, you are a good doctor. This is false. The hard part is actually realizing that practicing medicine is a work of interpretation, in the sense that you have to apply rigorous, formal knowledge onto a fuzzy problem, a patient that does not necessarily come with hard measurements or even with clear objectives. This requires a huge amount of experience, empathy, and communication skills. Now, the distance between a good doctor and someone who simply applies reflex knowledge is the distance between the above definition and a real beautiful shirt that goes well on you. Sportive, fit, and tall. Finnish girls tend to go to them and do sports, and being fit belongs to beauty standards. Facial beauty, make-up, and jewelry are OK but not grossly overdone – being slutty or giving a tarty impression is frowned upon. Tan, be it real or fake, is good. Eyes are on great importance, and most make-up is around the. Most girls prefer either all-blonde or all-black hair, and usually long. Older women prefer their natural color. The buxomer you are, the better, but not overtly – it is a sign of a disorder. It is OK to be a bit overweight, providing you are sportive and/or muscular and do not resemble the Michelin Man. lothing tends to be tight and fitting, but not too revealing. Jeans, pastel color trousers and leggings are the thing. If the weather is hot, loose dresses are favored. In winter, either woollen long coats, fur-lined jackets,and parkas or Thinsulate or eiderdown stuffed jackets are the thing as it is cold. You Can See More Product: https://besteestores.com/product-category/trending/
0 notes
besteestores · 11 days ago
Text
Chef Your Opinion Wasn’t In The Recipe shirt https://besteestores.com/product/chef-your-opinion-wasnt-in-the-recipe-shirt/ https://cdn.besteestores.com/image/2021/04/24/chef-your-opinion-wasnt-in-the-recipe-shirt-classic-mens-t-shirt.jpg
New Post has been published on https://besteestores.com/product/chef-your-opinion-wasnt-in-the-recipe-shirt/
Chef Your Opinion Wasn’t In The Recipe shirt
Chef Your Opinion Wasn’t In The Recipe shirt .besteestores Comfortable. It covers the also I will do this body yet stylish, no dupatta to carry around all day, no awkward moments while sitting or while moving around. A girl can be careless about her taking care of her dress once she wears jeans and tops. Invisible means no more cat-calls or whistles, which is good. It also means servers/clerks ..pretty much everybody you deal with treating you as if you no longer have a brain or exist. Everybody looks past you to see that cute young girl next in line, or at the next table. You might sit at a bar alone and the bartender will come to chat with you. At my age, you get your drink (eventually) and he’s gone. And nobody else will come by. Go to a gym, nobody helps you or talks to you. There is a lot of age discrimination in this country, it’s why so many are tempted by plastic surgery. We are very youth-oriented. I’m married so it doesn’t bother me as much, it’s just something I notice, but I have friends who are single, and finding a man who wants an older woman is not possible. They want women in their 20s or 30s, no matter how old they are. Nobody looks at us-we are old, useless and uninteresting, at least they think so. I’m not saying you should enjoy true invasions or constant boob staring or whatever – but do realize that youth has power in the US and enjoy your status. Whatever you decide to wear. The attention will be gone sooner than you think. No, impeaching a criminal President doesn’t hurt at all, if the image you want others to have of your country is that of a functional democracy capable of protecting itself from attacks against its Constitution and its most fundamental institutions. If, in turn, the image you want to create is that of a failed democracy, in which the personality cult of the President is considered more important than the laws that serve as the foundation of the country, and in which Constitution is only nominal — then, by all means, impeachment can undermine that particular brand you pursue. If you now go on to impeach another President, only this time due to blatant high misdemeanors and crimes, other democracies will let out an audible sigh of relief, thinking that America has finally come to its senses.
Chef Your Opinion Wasn’t In The Recipe shirt, hoodie, sweater, longsleeve and ladies t-shirt
Classic Women’s
Long Sleeved
Unisex Sweatshirt
Unisex Hoodie
Classic Men’s
Chef Your Opinion Wasn’t In The Recipe shirt .besteestores The work of the also I will do this mechanic can be very complex, so this is not meant to be a comparison. What I understand is that you believe that the work of a doctor can be codified into simple individual skills and relatively clear decision paths. In my experience, even people with no formal training can pick up useful medical reflexes, as evidenced here on Quora. Furthermore, many believe that by reading guidelines and applying medical decision algorithms you are as useful, or even better, than a doctor. However, the real skill comes with the part that cannot be put down on paper. You see, the part that you can find in guidelines, research papers, and textbooks is the obvious part, the baseline. People mistakenly assume that by acquiring this kind of knowledge, which is a lengthy process if you look at the volume of the stuff, you are a good doctor. This is false. The hard part is actually realizing that practicing medicine is a work of interpretation, in the sense that you have to apply rigorous, formal knowledge onto a fuzzy problem, a patient that does not necessarily come with hard measurements or even with clear objectives. This requires a huge amount of experience, empathy, and communication skills. Now, the distance between a good doctor and someone who simply applies reflex knowledge is the distance between the above definition and a real beautiful shirt that goes well on you. Sportive, fit, and tall. Finnish girls tend to go to them and do sports, and being fit belongs to beauty standards. Facial beauty, make-up, and jewelry are OK but not grossly overdone – being slutty or giving a tarty impression is frowned upon. Tan, be it real or fake, is good. Eyes are on great importance, and most make-up is around the. Most girls prefer either all-blonde or all-black hair, and usually long. Older women prefer their natural color. The buxomer you are, the better, but not overtly – it is a sign of a disorder. It is OK to be a bit overweight, providing you are sportive and/or muscular and do not resemble the Michelin Man. lothing tends to be tight and fitting, but not too revealing. Jeans, pastel color trousers and leggings are the thing. If the weather is hot, loose dresses are favored. In winter, either woollen long coats, fur-lined jackets,and parkas or Thinsulate or eiderdown stuffed jackets are the thing as it is cold. You Can See More Product: https://besteestores.com/product-category/trending/
0 notes
besteestores · 11 days ago
Text
Unicorn Drink Corona Because Murder Is Wrong shirt https://besteestores.com/product/unicorn-drink-corona-because-murder-is-wrong-shirt/ https://cdn.besteestores.com/image/2021/04/24/unicorn-drink-corona-because-murder-is-wrong-shirt-classic-mens-t-shirt.jpg
New Post has been published on https://besteestores.com/product/unicorn-drink-corona-because-murder-is-wrong-shirt/
Unicorn Drink Corona Because Murder Is Wrong shirt
Unicorn Drink Corona Because Murder Is Wrong shirt .besteestores Comfortable. It covers the also I will do this body yet stylish, no dupatta to carry around all day, no awkward moments while sitting or while moving around. A girl can be careless about her taking care of her dress once she wears jeans and tops. Invisible means no more cat-calls or whistles, which is good. It also means servers/clerks ..pretty much everybody you deal with treating you as if you no longer have a brain or exist. Everybody looks past you to see that cute young girl next in line, or at the next table. You might sit at a bar alone and the bartender will come to chat with you. At my age, you get your drink (eventually) and he’s gone. And nobody else will come by. Go to a gym, nobody helps you or talks to you. There is a lot of age discrimination in this country, it’s why so many are tempted by plastic surgery. We are very youth-oriented. I’m married so it doesn’t bother me as much, it’s just something I notice, but I have friends who are single, and finding a man who wants an older woman is not possible. They want women in their 20s or 30s, no matter how old they are. Nobody looks at us-we are old, useless and uninteresting, at least they think so. I’m not saying you should enjoy true invasions or constant boob staring or whatever – but do realize that youth has power in the US and enjoy your status. Whatever you decide to wear. The attention will be gone sooner than you think. No, impeaching a criminal President doesn’t hurt at all, if the image you want others to have of your country is that of a functional democracy capable of protecting itself from attacks against its Constitution and its most fundamental institutions. If, in turn, the image you want to create is that of a failed democracy, in which the personality cult of the President is considered more important than the laws that serve as the foundation of the country, and in which Constitution is only nominal — then, by all means, impeachment can undermine that particular brand you pursue. If you now go on to impeach another President, only this time due to blatant high misdemeanors and crimes, other democracies will let out an audible sigh of relief, thinking that America has finally come to its senses.
Unicorn Drink Corona Because Murder Is Wrong shirt, hoodie, sweater, longsleeve and ladies t-shirt
Classic Women’s
Long Sleeved
Unisex Sweatshirt
Unisex Hoodie
Classic Men’s
Unicorn Drink Corona Because Murder Is Wrong shirt .besteestores The work of the also I will do this mechanic can be very complex, so this is not meant to be a comparison. What I understand is that you believe that the work of a doctor can be codified into simple individual skills and relatively clear decision paths. In my experience, even people with no formal training can pick up useful medical reflexes, as evidenced here on Quora. Furthermore, many believe that by reading guidelines and applying medical decision algorithms you are as useful, or even better, than a doctor. However, the real skill comes with the part that cannot be put down on paper. You see, the part that you can find in guidelines, research papers, and textbooks is the obvious part, the baseline. People mistakenly assume that by acquiring this kind of knowledge, which is a lengthy process if you look at the volume of the stuff, you are a good doctor. This is false. The hard part is actually realizing that practicing medicine is a work of interpretation, in the sense that you have to apply rigorous, formal knowledge onto a fuzzy problem, a patient that does not necessarily come with hard measurements or even with clear objectives. This requires a huge amount of experience, empathy, and communication skills. Now, the distance between a good doctor and someone who simply applies reflex knowledge is the distance between the above definition and a real beautiful shirt that goes well on you. Sportive, fit, and tall. Finnish girls tend to go to them and do sports, and being fit belongs to beauty standards. Facial beauty, make-up, and jewelry are OK but not grossly overdone – being slutty or giving a tarty impression is frowned upon. Tan, be it real or fake, is good. Eyes are on great importance, and most make-up is around the. Most girls prefer either all-blonde or all-black hair, and usually long. Older women prefer their natural color. The buxomer you are, the better, but not overtly – it is a sign of a disorder. It is OK to be a bit overweight, providing you are sportive and/or muscular and do not resemble the Michelin Man. lothing tends to be tight and fitting, but not too revealing. Jeans, pastel color trousers and leggings are the thing. If the weather is hot, loose dresses are favored. In winter, either woollen long coats, fur-lined jackets,and parkas or Thinsulate or eiderdown stuffed jackets are the thing as it is cold. You Can See More Product: https://besteestores.com/product-category/trending/
0 notes
besteestores · 12 days ago
Text
Snoopy Ill do it tomorrow shirt https://besteestores.com/product/snoopy-ill-do-it-tomorrow-shirt/ https://cdn.besteestores.com/image/2021/04/23/snoopy-ill-do-it-tomorrow-shirt-classic-mens-t-shirt.jpg
New Post has been published on https://besteestores.com/product/snoopy-ill-do-it-tomorrow-shirt/
Snoopy Ill do it tomorrow shirt
Snoopy Ill do it tomorrow shirt .besteestores Comfortable. It covers the also I will do this body yet stylish, no dupatta to carry around all day, no awkward moments while sitting or while moving around. A girl can be careless about her taking care of her dress once she wears jeans and tops. Invisible means no more cat-calls or whistles, which is good. It also means servers/clerks ..pretty much everybody you deal with treating you as if you no longer have a brain or exist. Everybody looks past you to see that cute young girl next in line, or at the next table. You might sit at a bar alone and the bartender will come to chat with you. At my age, you get your drink (eventually) and he’s gone. And nobody else will come by. Go to a gym, nobody helps you or talks to you. There is a lot of age discrimination in this country, it’s why so many are tempted by plastic surgery. We are very youth-oriented. I’m married so it doesn’t bother me as much, it’s just something I notice, but I have friends who are single, and finding a man who wants an older woman is not possible. They want women in their 20s or 30s, no matter how old they are. Nobody looks at us-we are old, useless and uninteresting, at least they think so. I’m not saying you should enjoy true invasions or constant boob staring or whatever – but do realize that youth has power in the US and enjoy your status. Whatever you decide to wear. The attention will be gone sooner than you think. No, impeaching a criminal President doesn’t hurt at all, if the image you want others to have of your country is that of a functional democracy capable of protecting itself from attacks against its Constitution and its most fundamental institutions. If, in turn, the image you want to create is that of a failed democracy, in which the personality cult of the President is considered more important than the laws that serve as the foundation of the country, and in which Constitution is only nominal — then, by all means, impeachment can undermine that particular brand you pursue. If you now go on to impeach another President, only this time due to blatant high misdemeanors and crimes, other democracies will let out an audible sigh of relief, thinking that America has finally come to its senses.
Snoopy Ill do it tomorrow shirt, hoodie, sweater, longsleeve and ladies t-shirt
Classic Women’s
Long Sleeved
Unisex Sweatshirt
Unisex Hoodie
Classic Men’s
Snoopy Ill do it tomorrow shirt .besteestores The work of the also I will do this mechanic can be very complex, so this is not meant to be a comparison. What I understand is that you believe that the work of a doctor can be codified into simple individual skills and relatively clear decision paths. In my experience, even people with no formal training can pick up useful medical reflexes, as evidenced here on Quora. Furthermore, many believe that by reading guidelines and applying medical decision algorithms you are as useful, or even better, than a doctor. However, the real skill comes with the part that cannot be put down on paper. You see, the part that you can find in guidelines, research papers, and textbooks is the obvious part, the baseline. People mistakenly assume that by acquiring this kind of knowledge, which is a lengthy process if you look at the volume of the stuff, you are a good doctor. This is false. The hard part is actually realizing that practicing medicine is a work of interpretation, in the sense that you have to apply rigorous, formal knowledge onto a fuzzy problem, a patient that does not necessarily come with hard measurements or even with clear objectives. This requires a huge amount of experience, empathy, and communication skills. Now, the distance between a good doctor and someone who simply applies reflex knowledge is the distance between the above definition and a real beautiful shirt that goes well on you. Sportive, fit, and tall. Finnish girls tend to go to them and do sports, and being fit belongs to beauty standards. Facial beauty, make-up, and jewelry are OK but not grossly overdone – being slutty or giving a tarty impression is frowned upon. Tan, be it real or fake, is good. Eyes are on great importance, and most make-up is around the. Most girls prefer either all-blonde or all-black hair, and usually long. Older women prefer their natural color. The buxomer you are, the better, but not overtly – it is a sign of a disorder. It is OK to be a bit overweight, providing you are sportive and/or muscular and do not resemble the Michelin Man. lothing tends to be tight and fitting, but not too revealing. Jeans, pastel color trousers and leggings are the thing. If the weather is hot, loose dresses are favored. In winter, either woollen long coats, fur-lined jackets,and parkas or Thinsulate or eiderdown stuffed jackets are the thing as it is cold. You Can See More Product: https://besteestores.com/product-category/trending/
0 notes