#but i have so little to be proud of myself about
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beautifullilacsky · 7 hours ago
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oh honey. I have this feeling flowing through me, asking me to let it all out. Whatever it is that is in here. Could you tell me what is in here? I feel the need to put it on paper, but I don't know what to put on the paper. I hope the paper sees right through me and gently pulls it out of me.
I am happy to be in my childhood room, I truly am. I like my bed. But baby, ever since you've held me in it, it's not the same by myself. I crave feeling your arm wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to you. If I could hear any sound right now, it'd be your satisfied tiny sigh when you are comfortable. I want to feel it so close to me, letting me bathe into the same level of comfort.
It feels lonely without your "goodnight". I just really want to feel loved right now. Loved by you. I wish I'd feel wanted and craved the same way I do you. Are your feelings like mine? Sometimes I look down into the body of water that represents my feelings. Sometimes, the water seems to go so deep, I'm afraid to talk about it. I am afraid to overwhelm you with it. Maybe even more importantly, I am afraid your waters don't run that deep for me. This fear could be totally off; we just have different ways to show our love. I recognize mine, and I can feel my water get deeper and deeper at times, not even allowing one to see its deepest corners. I cannot see your water, though. I wish you took me there and showed me that it is just as deep as mine. I wonder if within there, lie the same wishes. I wonder if you also crave to hold my hand as we lay on the grass, watching the stars together. If you wish to listen to my voice as I talk, your head on my heart, allowing you to feel it beat and to hear my voice move through my upper body before leaving my mouth and finding you. If you also crave to learn about all of the tiny details about me; if you crave to know me on a level even deeper than my waters. If you wish to sit down in the dark together, and talk about topics that make you ponder, such as the reasons for being alive. The things that shaped you most in life, and your biggest wins. When you felt most proud of yourself, and if there was ever a time in which you wished you weren't born. I wonder if you want to trace your finger along every single centimeter of my entire body, exploring it. To feel the ground beneath your knees as you kneel down in front of me, feeling my hands cup and caress your sweet face. To lovingly stare at you in awe as we make love, admiring every inch of you. Do you also miss our deep talks? Our late night conversations?
Anyway. I guess that's what the paper pulled out of my filled mind. It is now late. I do not wish to keep you awake while you need to work early tomorrow, but still I wish for you. I wish for a moment in which you whisper me the same words, "we have all the time in the world". A little space for just us, where the passing of time doesn't matter.
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daeniradraconis · 2 days ago
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The Leafs Legacy - Auston Matthews
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Okay, so @tonyspep you gave me the sweetest idea with your comment! I know you were hoping for a more gentle Auston teaching his daughter to skate, but I thought the first game could be way more exciting! Hope you still love this take though!
So, here's daddy Auston being the proudest coach at his baby girl's first game. A few Leaf players make an appearance too. It's all about the fluff and cuteness! I just needed to write something like this today to make myself smile, and I hope it does the same for you! 💕 For more fun: masterlist❤️
—-
The arena buzzed with excitement—a lively mix of proud parents, devoted fans, and an entire section filled with Toronto Maple Leafs players, all gathered to witness history: the very first game of the newly established Leafs Girls' Program. And at the heart of it all, standing tall behind the bench in his team-issued jacket, was Auston Matthews—head coach of the future generation of hockey stars.
You still remember the promise Auston made when Clara was born. At the time, you thought he was joking about starting a Maple Leafs girls’ team, but that stubborn fool never let it go. For nearly a year, he hounded the directors and senior managers, relentless in his mission. You’re pretty sure they only gave in just to stop him from spamming their inboxes with proposals and cornering them with passionate speeches. But now, seeing the pride in his eyes as he watched his team, you knew—he had won.
From the stands, you held little Auston Jr. close, his tiny Maple Leafs onesie making him look impossibly adorable. At just three months old, he had no clue what was going on, but nestled in your arms, surrounded by the bright lights and the roar of the crowd, he was completely content. And in that moment, so were you.
You and Auston had talked about having more kids after Clara turned one, but life didn’t unfold as expected. Months turned into years, and despite your best efforts, nothing happened. Eventually, you both quietly let the topic go. But then, just as you were getting ready to settle into your life as a family of three, at nearly 36 years old, you found out you were pregnant. It was a shock—a miracle.
When you told Auston, he cried like a baby, overwhelmed by emotion. And to be honest, you were a hot mess too, crying and laughing at the same time.
You may not have ended up with enough kids to fill a hockey team, but you were surrounded by love—cherished by your little ones, who meant the world to you. The small moments of chaos and laughter, the sleepy snuggles, and the endless hugs were all you needed. And as for Auston, he never let you forget, that he was right about one thing: you were an absolute smoke show MILF.
But then, your attention naturally shifted. You glanced over at the ice, where Clara stood, her little figure tiny against the rink. She wore an oversized Leafs jersey, her pink and purple helmet snug on her head, and her tiny hands gripped her stick with surprising confidence. She looked so small out there, but the look in her eyes? That was all Auston. You could see the fire, the determination—just like her dad. In that moment, you knew she was going to make her own mark, and maybe even take after her father in more ways than one.
Auston paced behind the girls on the bench, hands on his hips, barking out encouragement like he was coaching a Stanley Cup Final.
Mitch, sitting right next to you, burst into laughter, nudging William. "Oh my god, look at him," he snorted. "He’s gonna lose his mind before the game’s even over."
William grinned, shaking his head. "I’ve never seen him this hyped, and we’ve played playoff games with him."
The rest of the guys joined in, chuckling at Auston’s visible excitement. Your heart swelled with warmth. You knew how deeply Auston loved his team, so seeing them here—supporting him, even if they were absolutely going to tease him about this later—meant the world to him.
You laughed along with them, bouncing little Auston Jr. in your arms. "He’s ridiculous," you said, shaking your head. "But you all know you’re going to be just as bad in about two seconds." You shot them a teasing grin, but Mitch and William both shook their heads in disbelief, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence.
And sure enough, the game finally started.
"Alright, ladies! Keep your sticks down, eyes on the puck! Clara, get ready!" Auston called out.
Clara looked back at her dad, giving him a firm nod before turning her attention to the faceoff. You couldn’t help but smile—she was only five, yet she carried herself with the same intensity Auston did before a big game.
The puck dropped, and the game was on.
Clara skated forward, her tiny legs working overtime as she chased after the puck. The other girls scrambled in every direction, but somehow, she managed to gain control. She took a few unsteady strides before taking what could only be described as the most adorable shot attempt ever. It wasn’t the hardest shot, and it wobbled a bit, but it went straight into the tiny net.
The arena erupted into cheers.
Auston lost his mind.
"YES, CLARA! THAT’S MY GIRL!" he shouted, jumping up and down. He turned to the Leafs players in the stands, waving his arms wildly. "DID YOU SEE THAT?! GOAL SCORER GENES!"
And as you predicted, Mitch and Willy shot up from their seats, cheering like maniacs.
"Future first-liner!" Mitch called out, clapping his hands.
McMann grinned and joined in. "She’s got her dad’s shot. Go, Clara baby!"
You shook your head, laughing as Auston continued his excited antics on the bench. Clara, meanwhile, looked up at her dad, her little face beaming with pride beneath her helmet.
She skated back to the bench, nearly tripping in her excitement, and Auston scooped her up the second she reached him. He lifted her high in the air, twirling her around.
"You did it, baby girl! First goal of many!"
Clara giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. "Did you see, Daddy? I scored!"
"I saw!" he beamed, pressing a kiss to her helmet. "And I think that means ice cream after the game. What do you think?"
Clara gasped, her little eyes going wide. "With sprinkles?!"
"With all the sprinkles in the world," Auston promised, setting her back down on the ice. "Now go get another one, superstar."
She grinned and skated off, ready for her next shift.
Back in the stands, you turned to the guys beside you, only to find them still on their feet, cheering as if Clara had just won the Cup.
Mitch was cupping his hands around his mouth. "SIGN HER TO AN ELC RIGHT NOW!"
William was whistling, and Bobby nodded approvingly. "She’s a natural."
You smirked. "And here I thought Auston was the only one who’d lose his mind over this."
Mitch turned to you, completely serious. "Are you kidding? That was ELITE."
William grinned. "We should be scouting her already."
You just shook your head, laughing as they continued their proud-uncle act. Meanwhile, Auston stood at the bench, hands on his knees, grinning from ear to ear as he watched his daughter—eyes filled with pride—like she had just scored the game-winning goal in the Stanley Cup Final.
Little Auston Jr. stirred in your arms, and you glanced down at him, brushing a soft kiss against his tiny forehead. "Looks like you’ve got some big skates to fill, little guy."
The game continued, filled with more adorable chaos, but in that moment—watching your husband on the bench, your daughter on the ice, and your newborn son in your arms—you knew one thing for sure.
This was happiness. This was everything you had ever dreamed of—and more.
Note: ELC = Entry-Level Contract. An ELC is the standard contract given to rookie players entering the NHL, typically when they're signing their first contract after being drafted.
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idrawprettyboys · 2 days ago
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Advice for Aspiring Commissions Artists
I recently had someone ask for advice on how to sell art commissions, so I thought it would be nice to compile a list for others aspiring to do so, as well as to remind myself of some important things to keep in mind.
1. Have one tumblr blog strictly for art. People will follow it specifically because they like your art, and it will be easy for them to find your artwork without having to scroll through a jumble of other stuff.
2. Draw and post just about every day! Most people will say to draw every single day, but please let yourself rest. You will end up being miserable if you force yourself to draw when you aren’t feeling well. The more you draw, the more your art will improve, and the more followers you will naturally accumulate over time.
3. Post fan art to bring in fans. You don’t have to strictly draw fan art, of course. But people are more likely to interact if they’re familiar with the character already. A lot of people will follow you for fan art initially, and some of them will grow to love your original art as well.
4. Develop your own unique style. This will occur naturally over time. Learn from artists you love, and over time, your art will evolve into a mix of art styles you like into something uniquely yours!
5. It takes time to find supporters who are willing to spend money on your art. Building an art business is a slow process, and it takes patience and perseverance. Only a small percentage of social media followers will pay for commissions or Patreon support, but those few are precious.
6. Use every platform and website you can to share your art and have links between platforms, so your fans can find you in multiple places. Examples of places to share your art are social media sites like Twitter, Instagram, BlueSky, and Pillowfort, as well as art sites like Cara and Pixiv.
7. Get a Patreon and Ko-Fi account and be sure to provide links to these means of financial support on your art posts (especially the art pieces you’re proud of).
8. Make use of as many means of making money with art as you can. Sell prints on inprnt, sell stickers on Redbubble. Youtube videos can eventually give you ad revenue. If you make comics, Tapas is another option to make a little bit of ad revenue. You can use Etsy to sell originals, prints, or even commissions! Some people may feel more comfortable buying commissions through an official store like Etsy rather than on social media, so it’s good to have that as a back-up in addition to selling through other sites.
9. Use a secure payment method that you’re comfortable with! I recommend using PayPal with invoices, so that you have proof of their purchase in case anything goes wrong. A lot of artists use Ko-Fi as well.
10. Post your commission guidelines on all the sites where you post your art! Don’t be afraid to reblog/repost your commission price list multiple times!
11. Art commissions are not a steady job. You might get nonstop commissions for a couple months and then not get any for a few months. There are some times of year when people are less willing to spend money. I’ve noticed this happening towards the end of the year. At times when you aren’t getting commissions, I recommend doing a limited time sale!
12. Price yourself appropriately for the amount of effort it takes for you to get the work done! Don’t overprice or underprice! Ask your friends for advice on what you should charge. You’ll probably want to start low and slowly increase your prices as your work gets higher demand.
13. Make your commission price list legible! Check out other people’s sheets for guidance!
14. Have patience and perseverance! It may take years after you start posting before you get a commission, but the more you put yourself out there, the more you’ll get noticed!
15. Draw what you enjoy! Maybe cater to your audience once in a while, but your own happiness is important to give yourself the drive to keep on going!
16. Don’t be afraid to reblog your own art at various times of day, for maximum visibility! Not all of your followers will be online at the time that you initially posted it.
@artist-kreating-stuff
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incorrect-seafam-quotes · 7 hours ago
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Percy, taking to his siblings: Listen up here you little shits-
Percy: Not you Tyson, you're an angel.
Tyson: Yay!
Percy: The rest of you bastards.
Triton & Kymopoleia: Not-
Percy: And gods.
Triton & Kymopoleia: Dammit.
Percy: Dad is having a hard time recovering from the war. So we are not going to stress him out unnecessarily, okay?
Percy: That means, no eating each other.
Polyphemus: Dammit.
Percy: Or sacrificing them.
Antaeus: Dammit.
Percy: Or creating large storms that damage old or newly repaired parts of the castle.
Kymopoleia: Dammit.
Percy: Or nagging him with non-critical reports about the kingdom.
Triton: Dammit.
Percy: That's it. I will know if you bother him, and I will make you suffer. Any questions?
Tyson: Can I still ask him to read me bed time stories?
Percy: Yeah that's fine, Tyson.
Amphitrite:
Amphitrite, in awe: It's like watching myself in the mirror. I'm so proud.
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fronzie · 3 days ago
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technically has to do with this but you tend to teach your friends things unconsciously solely because they’re that interested in you.
I have this friend (one of my closest best friends that I met last year). I was really hesitant to meet them bc I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself again but that’s beside the point. They’re in one of my classes and before I met them was very prone to anger if something ticked them off but was capable to mask it completely.
When we finally talked we clicked immediately because we had a lot of the same interests so we already had an emotional bond instantly. They started rubbing off on me with little things like their accent (a mix of Greek and Puerto Rican) and the ability to mask my anger to some very beneficial stuff like starting to take care of myself and being proud of what I do! Why? Because what they say about what I do is just so motivating that I’m starting to strive more and more to do the best I can to make them proud. When I’m around them I get butterflies and I just wanna tweak out and hug them and just tell them how much I love them (platonically). To say I owe my life to them is an understatement. They saved my life time and time again.
Back to the story though. So a few months into our friendship (5 months), I had a breakdown on a face time call with them. To calm me down, they started to talk about what I’ve done for them. One thing stood out from what they said.
“You made me be patient”
“what.?”
I somehow taught them to be patient although I myself am not patient. I asked them to explain and they did. I was always patient and waited when they were busy w/ god knows what, I stopped what I was doing to help them in any way I could. If they needed a break, I’d wait till I got word that they were okay now. I thought that was just being nice???? they said I had the unconscious tendency to make sure they’re okay before I took care of myself which made them take care of themself.
your friends like you so much more than they put on. i really do mean it.
Notice: not only do your friends actually like you, they secretly like you twice as much as they let on
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lilgarbitch · 2 days ago
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lovesick - Noah Sebastian
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Beside You Pt. 3
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader
CW: groveling, anxiety, angst, the whole shabang
Word Count: 4.5k
Author‘s Note: 🫵🏻 HAHA SUCKERS jk i hope you enjoy
Tags: @theanarchymuse95 @dontwantthemoney @chey-h @badomensgoodomens @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @enemiestolovershoe @blade-dressed-in-red @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thatchickwiththecamera @tosoundlessdarkistare @lacy1986
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Y/N
I had to force myself out of bed again today. Some days are better than others, but days like these, ones where I don‘t have work or anything planned, I have to give myself a reason to actually get up. Sometimes just the walk to the living room is all I can do, but today I‘m making myself do some shopping. The cupboards are running dry and I‘ve been surviving on delivery for too long to be healthy. After throwing on presentable but comfortable clothes, I make my way to the grocery store. 
My mind has been in a fog for as long as I can remember, so as I shop, I have to repeatedly check my list to make sure I don‘t forget anything, causing me to circle the store a few times. As I make it to the wine aisle, far back into the store, I hear a bit of laughter nearby. Like a bunch of college kids on their first grocery trip together who can‘t help but laugh at everything. It puts a small smile on my face, remembering what it was like to try and do things like this with the boys. Folio always doing whatever he could to make us laugh, Noah tripping over his own feet (Or Nick‘s) and almost crashing the cart, and Nick pretending like he hated us for causing a ruckus, even if he was constantly adding to it. 
I let the small sweet memory play in my mind as I scan the aisle, debating on what I wanted. I‘ve been good with drinking away my sorrows in the last few years, calming down after the first one, but I never know when those days will creep back in, so I decide on two bottles of a sweet, low ABV wine, and place them in my cart. I pause to take one last glance at my list, making sure I got everything, before looking back up to start heading to the check-out. 
And that‘s when my eyes land on someone. Someone in a cap, sunglasses, too familiar long hair, and an identical sleeve as Nick‘s. Every cell in my body froze as I watched him walk towards the aisle near mine, eyeing up the rows of beer. I watch as he decides on a case, grabbing it and finally lifting his head. His eyes barely grazed mine, before he did a double take. And then we just stand there, staring at each other. After a few moments, he blinks, glances behind him for a second, and then turns back towards me. I can practically hear the gears spinning in his head, debating how he wants this interaction to go. Or maybe they‘re the gears in my mind, thinking the same thing. Finally, he starts walking towards me, an awkward yet warming smile on his face. 
‘‘Y/N…Hi,“ He practically whispers, knocking me back into reality as I finally hear his voice again after almost 4 years. 
‘‘Uh..Hi. How are you?“ I almost grimace at how awkward this is, when, for years, we used to be able to talk about anything.
‘‘I‘m good. The boys and I are actually playing a show at the Canal Club tonight,“ He rushes out, like he needed to explain why he was finally here after so long. I nod, trying to show how proud I was, and not the pain and fear I was feeling, knowing that they were all back in Richmond tonight, ‘‘How have you been?“
I take the most subtle deep breath I could, needing to put all my energy into putting on a front. It would be embarrassing for him to find out that I‘m still hurting all these years later. That to this day, I‘ve yet to move on and I still miss them all more than anything. 
‘‘I‘m good!,“ I reply, maybe a little too enthusiastically. I try to keep a smile on my face, trying my best not to make it seem too forced, “Still at the same house. Still waitressing at the same place. Not much has changed.”
I almost see a small hint of shock on his face, but he just nods. He’s probably thinking about how I’ve gone nowhere with my life since they left, which was true. Them leaving destroyed me. I haven’t been able to do much other than the bare minimum. But I don’t want him or anyone else to know that, so I just let him know that life is the same old shit as before. 
“Well, you look great. I like what you’ve done with your hair,” He says with a small smile. I mirror his smile, ignoring the fact that he’s talking about the grown out, faded hair that I was currently covering with a beanie. I give him a small thanks, before I see a face pop up out of the corner of my eye. 
My stomach drops, I knew he wasn’t here alone, but I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could handle at the moment without fully preparing myself. All I saw was a tall, tattooed man with long hair walking our way in my peripheral, and I was silently begging to any higher being watching over it wasn’t who I thought it was. And thankfully, they answered. In comes their new member I haven't met yet. Nick glances to the side and gives him a small nod. 
“Jolly, this is Y/N. Y/N, Jolly,” Nick introduces us. I reach my hand out with a small smile, truly happy it was him and not any of the other guys. I pretend I don’t see the small look Nick gives Jolly before we shake hands. 
“Nice to meet you,” I say with the best sweet voice I could muster at the moment. 
“You, too. I’ve always wanted to meet some of the boy’s home friends they talk about,” he replies, with one of the thickest accents I’ve probably ever heard around here. I ignore the way he called me their friend, not knowing if he knows the full story or not. 
“Yeah, we were just uh..catching up. I mentioned that we were playing here tonight,” Nick throws in, trying to keep the conversation going. 
“Oh? They didn’t tell you already?” And there was my answer to if he knew our history or not. “Well why don’t you come down to see us perform? I bet we can hook you up with a ticket.”
I glance at Nick as I debate my answer, and surprisingly, he has an almost hopeful look in his eyes, making me rethink everything. 
“I..Uh..I’ll see if I can free up some time,” I lie.
”Well, we’ll tell them that there’s a free ticket waiting for you with your name on it. Why don’t you text one of the guys when you figure it out so we know. Maybe we can hang out after the show? I bet it’s been a while since you’ve all seen each other,” Jolly says, to which I nod. 
“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. I’m still at the old house, like I said, so we can hang there if the others are up for it,” I awkwardly ramble, already feeling a pit forming in my stomach at the invitation I almost wish I didn’t give, both desperately wanting to have them in my home again, but also knowing I won’t be able to handle it.
Nick nods with an even more hopeful look on his face, and Jolly has a pleased, relaxed look, completely oblivious to what he’s about to witness if we all come together again. They talk a bit about the show, still sounding hopeful I’ll come, before we say our goodbyes, Jolly’s being a “See you later,” as if he already knows I want to see the other boys more than anything. 
My mind was racing even more than before as I pay for my groceries and make my way home. As I look through my closet, trying to find the perfect outfit to wear. As I stare at my appearance, knowing I’ll see Noah again tonight.
Do I wear something from the time we spent together? It’s not like I’ve gotten that much clothes since then, other than outfits that aren’t really ‘going out’ wear. My hair’s a mess. I have a few hours until the show. Do I redye it? Do I present myself as someone who hasn’t been slowly dying on the inside since the day they left? 
They’ve all changed so much in the last few years, so do I want to show that I have as well? Even though my version of change wasn’t for the better? Or do I show up looking like a day hasn’t passed, wearing what I always used to and bring back old memories like they will for me?
I already know I’m going to spend the next few hours freaking out over everything, knowing it’s going to be an emotional night as well. 
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Noah
Folio swats at my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts and causing me to pull my fingers from my mouth as I was chewing my nails with anxiety. I go to glare at him before Nick catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. I asked him to run to the store for snacks and drinks, specifically requesting some type of alcohol in hopes it would ease my nerves just a little bit, so I was thankful he was finally back. But as our eyes met, I see that he has this sheepish look on his face. Then Jolly bounds through the door, as excited as ever. 
“We ran into your friend at the store! She’s really pretty,” he exclaims, causing me to completely stop breathing. I look back over at Nick, probably looking absolutely terrified, and he just nods. 
“You ran into Y/N?” I ask, trying not to sound too excited or worried.
”Yeah! I told her she should come to the show tonight. She even invited us back to her place after, if you guys are up for it,” Jolly answers. 
“She…She’s coming to the show tonight?” I ask slowly, and he nods, completely oblivious to how freaked out I was right now. 
“She didn’t confirm, but I assume she will. I mean, why wouldn’t she want to see you guys after so long? Especially now that we’re touring. I told her to text one of you if she can or not.”
I stare at Jolly for a few moments before turning to Nick, then Folio, all of them staring back at me. Jolly, confused with my reaction, and the other two with a pitying, yet hopeful look on their faces. 
“What am I missing?” Jolly asks. Thankfully, Nick responds.
”Y/N used to be…family. Even more to Noah than the rest of us.” He looked at him even more confused, not catching on yet. 
”Well? What happened?”
”I left.” I answer bluntly, making him turn back to me. 
“What do you mean?”
”I up and left. We were friends since childhood, dating for almost three years���and I left her to move to L.A.” He stares at me, waiting for me to continue, but I don’t.
”And I’m guessing she didn’t take it well?” I shook my head. 
“I purposely didn’t want her to take it well…I completely dropped her. The second I made the decision to leave, I decided it was best to get her to hate me so it wouldn’t hurt more in the long run. But it did. At least for me. It’s been almost four years since I pushed her away and it’s my biggest regret…And now, tonight, I might see her again.”
”Dude, what the fuck? Why the hell wouldn’t you at least try? I understand long distance sucks, but we’re getting big. We could’ve easily covered flights. You could’ve talked on the phone. She could’ve fucking moved out here with you.” Jolly practically berates me. 
“I couldn’t do that to her. I didn’t want to drag her along into my dream when she could’ve chased her own. I couldn’t have her constantly waiting for me while I lived this life, bringing her out here, knowing no one, and never being there for her as we all worked on our band. She’s probably so much better off with this freedom.”
“Noah…When I talked to her earlier, she didn’t look great. She told me she was still living in that house, and hasn’t even changed jobs. She looked like life has been dragging her down ever since. She needed you. Needs you.” Nick cut in, completely catching me off guard. I stare at him as I let his words sink in, not knowing if I hated the regret I felt knowing I absolutely destroyed her by making this decision, or if I was grateful to know that she still needed me as much as I needed her after all these years. 
I let out a sigh and fall back onto the couch, draping my arm over my face as the pain resurfaced once again, this time more confusing. I knew I fucked up, but I kept her waiting all these years. I destroyed a once amazing, happy girl, who was always there for me and my brothers. I made them cut her off too, assuming it would ease the trouble of leaving. This whole time, I was killing us both. As terrified I was, I needed to see her. I needed to make this right. Because I missed her more than anything. 
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Y/N
I step into the crowd, hiding myself in the mix of people. I knew from the countless shows that the boys and I went to that I needed to stay off to the side so I didn’t deal with too many pushing people and crowd surfers, definitely not in the mood for that tonight, but I wanted to be close enough to the stage that I could see them well. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited. I watched my boys perform together countless times, just always in someone’s garage or dingy little stages in random tiny venues around town. This would be the first time I was actually seeing them perform their dream. 
Apparently, Cane Hill was playing first, then them, so I had a little more time to prepare to see them all for the first time in so long. I was still freaking out over seeing Nick after all these years that I didn’t know how I was going to handle seeing Folio and Noah. Especially Noah. 
I was terrified that they’d be looking for me in the crowd, so I was making sure I was blending in as much as possible, and then I could either sneak back home after if this was too much, or try and find them once they got off stage. 
As the lights finally turned off and the first band took stage, I couldn’t focus. Their music was good, but I couldn’t stop checking my phone, counting down the minutes of their set. I kept fixing my clothes, hoping my skirt wasn’t riding up too much and that I wasn’t over or under dressed. My mind was a mess. I didn’t know how tonight would play out and I was terrified. I kept running possible scenarios in my head of how everything could go wrong or if anything would go right. How do we fix any of this? Was it even worth fixing? 
As Cane Hill walked off stage, I had to close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. My stomach was hurting with anxiety and I could hear my heart racing out of my chest. I didn’t open my eyes until I heard cheering around me once more. 
Folio walked on stage, his large smile the same as it’s always been. He walked up to the drum set as Nick and Jolly stepped out, guitar and bass already slung across their fronts as they sauntered into their spots, looking confident as ever. I couldn’t help but smile. Some of my anxiety started to ease. They looked like they were meant to be here. To have a large crowd cheering for them, excited to hear them perform. They deserved this. And that proud feeling was just enough to distract me for the main attraction to sneak onto stage.
There he was…
The love of my life. The one who kept me sane for as long as I can remember. The one who brought me comfort in the darkest times. The one who created even darker times. The man I’ll never forget for as long as I live. Noah was once again standing in front of me. 
I watched as his eyes scanned the crowd, probably looking for me, but thankfully it was dark enough that he wouldn’t be able to see. As they started their first song, I couldn’t help but get emotional. To hear his voice in person again, even if it was through speakers like it has been since they released their album, brought me both pain and comfort. He was here. We were once again in the same room. 
As the show went on, I found myself singing along. The music allowed my nerves to calm a little, and being hidden from his sight and just being able to admire him from afar allowed me to feel a sense of peace for the first time in a long time. He sounded amazing. He was meant for the stage. As I let myself join in with everyone else cheering and singing along, I took the chance to really appreciate how much he’s grown. How confident he’s gotten being in the spotlight. How perfect he looks standing in front of hundreds of people, getting admired for his talent. 
And I get so caught up in finally enjoying my time that their set eventually comes to an end. And he speaks into the mic, letting me hear his voice one more time as he introduces the band and thanks everyone for being there. And I listen to his velvety voice being blared through the speakers one last time before they all step off stage. 
And now I wasn’t sure what to do. Do I watch the rest of the show, staying hidden from them? Do I leave? Or do I search for them? The room was practically pitch black as everyone waited for New Year’s Day to come out, so I didn’t think there was much I could do anyway. 
But then I feel my phone buzz in my hand. I look at it and see a text, surprised to see that he hasn’t changed his number and his nickname was still unchanged in my phone.
Nicky- Come to the left side of the stage
I glace up and see his face illuminated by his phone, and without thinking, my legs take me towards him. It was a bit of a struggle to get through the crowd, but finally, I was facing him for the second time today. Once he sees my legs in front of him, he looks up and gives me a small smile.
”So…how was it?” He awkwardly asks. I give him a smile back.
”You guys are unbelievable. I’m so proud of you, I can’t even put it into words,” I say, the comfort of being near him already back like nothing changed. He visibly relaxes at the sound of my tone and his smile grows bigger at my words.
”That means a lot, especially coming from you. I’m really glad you showed tonight, by the way.”
”I’m glad, too. But to be honest, I’m freaking the fuck out right now.” He changes to a warm smile and turns to sling an arm over my shoulder like he always used to when he wanted to comfort me. 
“Trust me. So is everyone else. And I truly mean it when I say I’m glad you showed. I know we fucked up real bad and made a really bad decision, and I couldn’t be more thankful that you don’t hate us for it.” He said with a soft voice as we finally started walking away from the crowd and towards back stage. 
“I could never hate you guys. I definitely felt something close to it when you all left, but I quickly understood why you all did what you did. But I can’t say I’m not still upset with you three, one more than the others.” He nods like he understands what I mean.
”Well that one may be the most regretful of all of us,” He says as he pauses outside their green room, “Folio hasn’t shut up since we told him we ran into you earlier, so you’re going to need to spend some time with him first, but just give me the word, and we’ll give you and Noah some space to talk.”
I give him a soft smile and nod, and he finally opens the door. Within a second of stepping through, I’m being tackled into a hug by Folio, instantly recognizing his scent as my face gets shoved into his chest.
”I missed you so fucking much, Y/N. Holy shit, I’m so happy to see you.” I hug him back for a few moments before patting his back, needing air to respond. 
I let out a soft laugh as he finally pulls away and looks down at me with an apologetic smile. I watch as his eyes take in my appearance and I catch my breath after he practically squeezed it out of me.
”I missed you, too. So much. And you fucking rocked out there,” I said as I grabbed his shoulder and brough him back into another hug, truly missing them. 
“I really hope you aren’t mad at me. I wanted to keep in contact but I didn’t want to hurt you more. Please don’t hate me,” he whispers in my ear as he holds me tight.
”Like I told Nicky, I could never hate you. I love you guys more than anything and am just happy to finally see you again,” I whisper into his. 
We pull away after a minute of our much needed embrace and I greet Jolly before I’m immediately pulled into Nick’s arms.
”It wasn’t fair I haven’t gotten a real one since I’ve seen you,” he mumbles as he squeezes me tight. I laugh softly but just let myself take in the feeling of peace and comfort I’ve been missing all these years.
These boys were my family and even after not seeing them for so long, the love has yet to die. And to know that they’ve missed me just as much as I’ve missed them is making me emotional again. I really hope I don’t cry just yet. I still had one more boy to get to. I can feel his eyes on me. His presence filling the room and running my nerves rampant. Nick finally pulls away, laughing at something Folio said as my eyes instantly drift to where he sat.
In that moment, I think we both stopped breathing as we just stared at each other for a few seconds. Seeing him so close again brought back so many feelings. Feelings from our time spent together. Feelings of our time apart. The love and the anger. The longing and the resentment. The grief. 
“Y/N…” he practically whispers out as he slowly stands up from his seat and makes his way towards me. 
“Noah..” I croak out, my emotions already collecting in my throat. 
As we finally stand in front of each other, I hear the other boys step out of the room, giving us our space without me even asking for it. I almost want to be mad they left me alone with the man that has haunted my every living moment, but I’m also thankful, not knowing how this is going to go and not wanting to cry in front of anyone but him. 
“I-…How are you?” he softly asks. I just stare at him, letting his voice play in my head after not hearing it for so long. 
“I’m…good,” I finally answer, lying. His eyes trail over my face, already knowing my expressions better than me, and definitely catching my lie. 
“I’m not. I-…Y/N. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice cracks towards the end, and I can feel my eyes starting to well up with tears. 
“Noah. I just…Why?”
”I love you so much, Y/N. I love you so fucking much and I regret everything I’ve done. I thought I was making a good decision at the time, but I’ve regretted it ever since,” he gushes. 
“So you never reach out? You just leave me in the dark for four years? You drop me out of the blue one day, get your life together, and leave me in the dust? All alone? I couldn’t even talk to Nick or Folio!” I can see him grimace as I raise my voice. 
“I thought it was for the better. I thought it was selfish to ask you to join us. I thought that if I…if we left you behind, you wouldn’t feel overshadowed. I knew our focus was going to be put into the music and I couldn’t drag you along just to make you feel unappreciated.” His eyes were now turning red and he was waving his hands, reaching out for me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was about to drop to his knees and beg me for forgiveness. 
“Noah. I’d do anything for you. I still love you. Despite the fact you did me so wrong. But you told me that you loved me and then you went and left me. I just..” I sigh and turn around, moving to sit on the couch, burying my face into my hands as my voice turns into more of a whisper, “Why’d you do this to me? I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I can’t do much of anything at all… I’ve been so sick since you left.”
He moved to crouch in front of me, trying to look into my eyes. I sniffle and look up at him, desperately needing to see more of his face after so long, even if it’s covered in pain. His hand slowly reaches out, debating on touching me before finally placing it on my knee. 
“I’ve been dying on the inside since we left. I need you, Y/N. I can’t keep doing this without you…I now know how wrong I was.”
”Noah…”
TO BE CONTINUED
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meanbossart · 9 hours ago
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I'm not sure if it's been asked before but first of all your writing skills are just incredible🤌 After reading "A Novel Experience" it was like scratching an itch that I couldn't quite reach after years of reading burnout. In summary I was genuinely interested in how have you improved and developed your writing skills? Like honestly your writing is so addictive and captivating that (respectfully) there just has to be some kind of exposure to expression through literature, or perhaps you are just simply into reading. (That's a lot of yap and sorry if it's personal in a way or another. Also thank you for inspiring me and other people alike, you are a phenomenal artist 🙏)
Oh, thank you! I am beyond flattered and I truly appreciate that you enjoy my writing so much. To be honest I am actually very dissatisfied with my work for about half of A Novel Experience - when I started it, I had no audience, I just wrote and posted the first chapter as an epilogue for the game since the canonical ending felt pretty abrupt (we didn't have the official epilogue with the extended dialogue or Wither's party back then).
Then, I just felt like I had more to say, so I kept writing and by chapter 4-5 I had this huge story plotted out. I wrote a lot of those early chapters very quickly, and often while a little drunk, and considered them rough outlines rather than a finished work. When the story and my art began picking up traction I started to put more effort into my style and presentation, which is why chapters take a LOT longer to write nowadays - but I can confidently say that I am very proud of everything that came after The Compound.
I'm not really a reader, I'd be surprised if I read more than 30 books in my entire 28 years of life, and frankly I only started to enjoy fantasy very recently through admiring many of the fromsoft games from afar, and of course by finally playing Baldur's Gate 3.
One thing I will say is that the fictional books I've read that really stuck with me - and that I would consider to have influenced the way I write - have all had very unorthodox styles. Blindness by Jose Saramago is page after page of overwhelming walls of texts that read like a slowing-down clock or an agonizingly tight turning of screws; Blood Meridian is a nearly incoherent babble written by a man who outgrew the need or patience for commas or proper sentence separation, who knowingly disregarded grammar for the sake of feel. The Consumer is a collection of borderline pornographic and horrible, horrible stories where every character is abstracted into a wider social phenomenon, point of view is irrelevant and there is no line between narrative, dissertation, or poem.
Unlike the aforementioned works and their authors, I'm not talented (or crazy) enough as a writer to COMPLETELY forego construction and grammar, but I do feel perfectly confident in prioritizing feeling and flow over what is "correct" and experimenting with text in the same way I would on a drawing. I don't think any of this makes me good at it, but hopefully it makes it interesting or unique enough to stand out. It also means that, despite disliking those first few chapters, I don't really mind having them out there, since my purpose with them was to just have fun and try to capture "a vibe" rather than show myself off as some sort of wordsmith.
Well then, I've definitely outyapped you so we're even now. Hopefully this was interesting in the slightest!
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mattnottrecs · 2 days ago
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good fucking morning to me and everyone else reading this masterpiece, because my humor is already on point after this 😼
theo and mattheo were sprawled on the couch next to each other, passing a joint between them. mattheo was completely naked and theo only had his concert tank top on - a tight and cropped little black thing that perfectly showed off the lean muscles of his torso. their legs were spread, mattheo's right one thrown over theo's left thigh, and their hands were on each other's cocks.
first of all, i’m imagining this and let me tell you, what a good image my brain made me see, thank you for that. second of all, i was expecting everything but not this (kinda surprised, but i’m not complaining at all). in fact, this just made more 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ than anything I NEED TO SEE THIS
"baaaaby," mattheo drawled, giving you a stupidly adorable grin and extending an arm towards you, making a grabby hand in your direction.
i just came to the conclusion that this reader lives my dream life, and now i’m proud of her but jealous :( i want mattheo to call me baby while he’s being taking care off :’)
they exchanged a look and simultaneously dropped their hands from their cocks.
theo's lips were parted, and mattheo was wetting his, taking shallow breaths through his mouth.
you write so well that i could totally see everything happening in my mind. please, this is so so so well executed 😫
your tongue swirled around, gathering his slickness, and you pulled away enough to spit it back, your fingers spreading the liquid along his entire length before diving back in.
she’s having her best meal and i’m here rotting in my bed, reading about her while she executes my dream, but it’s okay because it’s kira’s writing, so i can experience a part of it myself 😤
— pause because i need to talk about the smut; genuinely, i forgot to take screenshots of my favorite parts because everything was so fucking good. i was reading and squeezing my legs the entire time. the way they grabbed the reader’s hair and squeezed her throat had me BAWLING MY EYES OUT, and i was drooling because fuck you, the imagery is fucking perfect. i need both so bad
they were now lazily and sloppily making out, catching their own breaths after their intense orgasms.
his thumb rubbing soft circles on the flushed skin. they were adorable like that, and truthfully, you could watch them for hours.
they’re adorable, but i lowkey need to be included 👩‍💼
but you still had your arousal unattended to. both of them shifted their attention when you cleared your throat, identical smirks appearing on their lips when they saw your raised eyebrow. you definitely weren't leaving the dressing room any time soon.
kira, you CANNOT leave and leave me here. you better do something right NOW.
anyway (i’m mad) BUT THIS WAS SO GOOD, need them need them need them need them need them need them need them 😔😡
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⋆౨ৎ bassist!reader helps drummer!mattheo and lead singer!theo unwind after a show
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nav // aus / band au // more
finally writing for this au. couldn’t get this out of my head for a while now, and it’s also my first time properly writing a threesome of any kind, so hopefully you enjoy <3
warnings: 18+ mdni, drug use, oral threesome, blowjob turned rough, throat bulge, gagging, some spitting, masturbation (m receiving), mutual masturbation (m x m), bi mattheodore, praise, cursing
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lorenzo went off somewhere again – probably to the tour bus to have fun with another groupie. you were just a little miffed about that, because you wanted to get some, enzo was the first to volunteer before the other two could get a word in, and now he was nowhere to be seen. you couldn’t be too mad at him, though – he’d always been a lighthead, in more ways than one.
you walked into your shared dressing room and were immediately greeted by a sight that wasn’t a surprise, yet never failed to amuse you. theo and mattheo were sprawled on the couch next to each other, passing a joint between them. mattheo was completely naked and theo only had his concert tank top on – a tight and cropped little black thing that perfectly showed off the lean muscles of his torso. their legs were spread, mattheo’s right one thrown over theo’s left thigh, and their hands were on each other’s cocks.
they lazily jerked each other off, unhurried and completely relaxed, the weed seemingly taking effect by that point. once the door behind you closed, both of them looked at you with cheeky, knowing smirks on their faces. theo blew out a small whiff of smoke and put out the joint against the table next to the couch, leaning further back into the plush surface.
"baaaaby," mattheo drawled, giving you a stupidly adorable grin and extending an arm towards you, making a grabby hand in your direction. you chuckled, shaking your head, and made a few slow steps towards the boys. they didn’t even think of stopping what they were doing, their hands still moving up and down on each other’s hard and, as you could notice under the dim lighting of the room, dripping cocks. you knew that they got especially horny under the influence, which amused you even more, but also gave you a perfect idea.
without a word, you knelt on the floor in front of them, and they perked up a bit, though their poses were still as relaxed as ever. they exchanged a look and simultaneously dropped their hands from their cocks. mattheo put his by his sides on the couch, and theo rested one on his stomach, the other one ending up on mattheo’s thigh. both of them gazed at you with as much hunger as their glassy eyes and widened pupils allowed; theo’s lips were parted, and mattheo was wetting his, taking shallow breaths through his mouth.
"cazzo, principessa… come sei dolce," theo murmured, a content smile quirking up his lips as your hands started kneading their thighs, approaching their aching cocks inch by inch. mattheo hummed in agreement, all of you having gotten used to theo’s italian by now and even starting to understand some stuff.
"you’re dolce," you answered, a teasing lilt to your voice, and theo chuckled in response, undoubtedly at your accent. his chuckle stuttered, turning into a low moan as your hands finally wrapped around their lengths, mattheo’s grunt joining him with more volume.
you didn’t spend too much time jerking them off since they did a pretty good job on that themselves – by the amount of precum leaking from their tips you could tell it wouldn’t take them too long to cum, and you wanted a taste before that happened. you scooted a bit to the right, mattheo being the first whose cock ended up in your mouth. your tongue swirled around, gathering his slickness, and you pulled away enough to spit it back, your fingers spreading the liquid along his entire length before diving back in.
"fuck," he breathed out, his hand loosely clutching the edge of the couch as his half-lidded eyes roamed over your face, fixated on your lips wrapped around him in the most enticing way. slowly, you started sucking, hollowing out your cheeks to provide more friction, while stroking theo’s dick at the same time. both of them were moaning above you, their hips twitching up every other second, and theo still had some sense in his hazy mind to caress mattheo’s thigh, which only made the latter’s pleasure more intense.
a couple of minutes later, when you started feeling theo getting restless, the movements of his hips growing a bit more sloppy, you pulled away from mattheo. he barely noticed, too lost in the world of bliss, especially since the stimulation never stopped, your hand coming in to take the place of your lips. you switched to the other side, finally taking theo’s cock into your mouth, which made him groan and impatiently grab your hair. you giggled but decided not to tease, since it was painfully obvious just how eager he was. you head started bobbing up and down as you sucked theo off, the sounds getting wetter and wetter from the amount of drool you produced due to theo being deliciously big. you choked a bit when his tip slipped into your throat, but you quickly adjusted – you were pretty used to his size already.
when you felt his cock starting to throb, you took it as a sign of him getting close, which prompted you to switch to mattheo again. a low, needy growl rumbled in his chest as he caught the sight of your pretty lips wrapped around him, his hips instantly rutting up, pushing his entire length right down your throat. you gagged again as you felt his thick cock stretching out your walls, and you were pretty sure that if you placed a hand on your throat, you’d feel his tip grinding against it from the inside. mattheo was very clearly impatient, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair as he started shoving you up and down. he had always had a thing for throatfucking, and you didn’t mind at all, eagerly allowing him to use you as a means to get off.
theo was watching the scene through his thick eyelashes, moaning louder from time to time when your hand squeezed him just a bit tighter. when mattheo started getting close, he immediately caught that. without a word, his head turned to the side, and his hand made its way up mattheo’s body to the back of his head. theo pulled him into a messy kiss, his fingers getting tangled in mattheo’s curls, both of them groaning against each other’s lips. when you looked up, met by the sight of your boys passionately making out, you felt the heat that had been building up in your stomach increase tenfold, and you knew right that moment that you had to make them finish as soon as possible to take care of your needs too. you picked up the pace under mattheo’s insistent hand, and soon, he was loudly panting against theo, string after string of his cum releasing into your mouth.
you quickly lapped up the remnants and switched to theo, who was already on the very edge. as your lips closed around him, his hips pushed up, and you knew you’d be hoarse as hell the next day when his tip roughly hit the back of your throat. theo desperately licked into mattheo’s mouth, the latter’s jaw still hanging slack as he came down from his high, and in a matter of seconds, his cum was also dripping down your throat, hot and slightly bitter from his constant smoking.
you were breathless when you pulled away, and your throat was already starting to hurt, but a smile spread on your face at the sight of the guys on the couch. they were now lazily and sloppily making out, catching their own breaths after their intense orgasms. theo’s hand was carding through mattheo’s hair, making him let out quiet little moans into theo’s mouth, while mattheo’s hand cradled the other boy’s cheek, his thumb rubbing soft circles on the flushed skin. they were adorable like that, and truthfully, you could watch them for hours. but you still had your arousal unattended to. both of them shifted their attention when you cleared your throat, identical smirks appearing on their lips when they saw your raised eyebrow. you definitely weren’t leaving the dressing room any time soon.
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ineedpaigebuckets · 60 minutes ago
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your world
an: i don't know who the fuck let me write this, or why it was even written but i hope you enjoy.
this is dedicated to my wife @ldapper of course because she thinks i don't love her like what the fuck.
also this isn't proof read AT ALL so have fun.
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azzi pov
it all started the day we won gold. my best friend and i, we did it we won the championship, together. and the second the buzzer sounded and everyone started screaming i saw a certain blonde turn around and before i could wrap my arms around her she grabbed my jersey and pulled me into her chest. i hugged her with the biggest smile i think i could ever imagine.
things had been rocky recently, we'd been with eachother 24/7 for so long that we'd just developed these feelings, these confusing feeling neither of us new how to deal with. so i guess we just mutually decided, they didn't need an explanation. but right now, in this moment, her head turning and i feel her lips brush against my neck pressing a soft kiss to the skin, everything feels just right.
"so fucking proud of you az." i hear her soft voice in my ear but before i could respond she pulls away but keeps her hand across my back for a second too long.
in that moment i realized that the is wasn't some bullshit, one sided feelings. it was something about the way we just fell into each others arms, melted in each others embrace like we needed eachother. we did need eachother, in ways nobody else would ever understand.
i was still in disbelief as i walked into my room, stripping off my jersey and throwing on a sweatsuit, laying on my bed and just closing my eyes basking in the glory of winning a gold metal. a huge smile across my face.
paige pov
the second i step into my room the weight of the win hit me. i promised myself i'd get the girl, i promised myself i'd fucking make her mine before we won the title. i'd been trying to make her mine since i first watched her tournament in 2015, but she didn't want anything to do with me. the second i saw the way her messy curls bounced out of her braids, her big soft lips, and her dark sweet eyes, i knew she just had to be mine. by the time we officially met on team usa in 2017 i'd gotten far enough to make her my best friend, but no matter what i did she never seemed to understand how fucking in love with her i was. every small touch, every meaningless kiss to some random part of her skin, went completely unnoticed. i was always set on my goals, i'd do anything physically possible to make my deadlines on time. so, i knew what i had to do. i had to make that girl mine by midnight.
i'd somehow found a florist that was open at 9:30 pm and i'd never called an uber faster in my life. i'd managed to pick up a fairly small arrangement of pink flowers, her favorite color. i'd ran to the convenient store nearby, flowers in hand looking like an absolute idiot, but i was on a time crunch what could i say. i'd picked up the cutest little jellycat, a small pink heart with a lock connecting it to a purple heart. it was absolutely perfect, i'm the purple to her pink, or so i like to think. i wandered the store for a while longer finally finding what i wanted. a small olaf blanket, i just needed a little of everything for my girl.
now here i was standing like an absolute idiot outside of azzi fudds door at 10 pm. flowers in my right hand, my left holding the jellycat, and the blanket thrown over my arm.
"az open up." i mumble through the door trying not to wake anyone else on the floor up. i hear a soft groan as she opens the door causing me to chuckle. i didn't even wanna know the amount of blush covering my face right now. i watched her stand still her breathing not fast, not slow, but different.
"who's this for?" she asks in a low voice opening the door a little more to let me through. she knew damn well this was all for her.
"it's for you. i gotchu flowers because, i don't know every beautiful girl like you deserves as many flowers as she can get." i place the flowers down taking a deep breath not even close from stopping my rambling. "and, i found these hearts, purple for me pink for you. and there's a lock like, like we're locked. uh, best- we're locked." i fight the urge to say best friend, everything going downhill as i fumble over my words. and she's just fucking standing there. leaning against the dresser, her eyes big and soft looking up at me. her lips parted slightly asking me to just feel them against my own. "and here's a blanket, olaf, your favorite." i keep it short and sweet trying desperately not to mess up any more sentences.
"what's it for?" i close my eyes and set everything down against the dresser. i muster up the last bit of confidence i can, and walk up to her cupping her delicate cheeks in my hands.
"it's for you azzi. no other reason than- fuck." i couldn't get a fucking sentence out. i let my forehead rest against hers and close my eyes. "you deserve the world baby, if you just give me a chance, imma give it all to you, and more." i whisper, the feeling of having my eyes closed giving me just enough confidence to say what i finally needed to say. i push back my eyes still closed as i pressed my lips against her forehead. those big brown eyes never coming off of my face.
"holy shit, holy shit, that's what this has been this whole time?" she asks almost surprised and i feel her hands grab my shirt right by my shoulders. she shakes my shoulders but the smile on her face is irreplaceable. if only i could see that everyday.
"you're an idiot paige." she giggled and before i could even think her lips were on mine. i melt into her body, letting any ounce of confidence move right from my body into hers, as my hands grip the back of her head. her hands find my waist bringing me in closely and i think i could just die right here.
"give me your world paige, and i'll give you mine." the second the words left her mouth i knew she'd be my wife. azzi jazlyn fudd was mine, what fucking idiot would i be to ever let her go again.
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ladykissingfish · 3 days ago
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*Hashirama and Madara, walking slowly to a tavern in the village* Hashirama: So you're sure you're ready for tonight, Mads? Madara: Yes. Just because I'm not much of a drinker doesn't mean that I won't show up to my own little brother's surprise birthday party. Hashirama: That's not what I mean. I'm talking about Tobirama and -- Madara: Ah, it's alright, Hashi. Granted I don't like your brother, and I probably never will, but ... he makes Izuna happy. And I have to admit that his organizing this entire thing was a very thoughtful gesture. So I promise to behave myself tonight, if only for Izuna's sake. Hashirama: *kisses Madara's cheek* I'm so proud of you for showing such maturity, and learning to put aside personal differences for the sake of others' happiness and comfort. *lowers his voice* What kind of ring do you think Tobi picked out? Madara: ... Ring? What ring? Hashirama: He wouldn't show it to me, he said it was going to be a surprise. What kind of gems does Izuna like, though? I bet Tobirama asked him before -- Madara: WHAT FUCKING RING, HASHIRAMA?? Hashirama: Babe. We talked about this, didn't we? Remember me telling you that the reason Tobirama was making this party such a big event was because he's planning on proposing to your brother tonight? Mm? Madara: Madara: *swiftly pulls out a sword and tries to go running to the tavern where Tobirama is there early, setting up* Hashirama: *grabs Madara before he can get away and locks him in a tree-branch cage* Hashirama: I figured something like this might happen ... hun, what happened to you just saying that Tobirama makes Izuna happy, and that's all that matters? Madara: HAPPINESS MY ASS! HE JUST WANTS A WAY TO RULE OVER MY BABY BROTHER! THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL I'D EVER ALLOW SUCH AN ABOMINATION TO TAKE PLACE! I ABSOLUTELY FORBID -- Hashirama: What if, a year from now, we're walking to their house to go and play with our newborn niece or nephew? Madara: Madara: If I promise to just throw one single punch, and behave myself the rest of the night will you let me out of this thing? Hashirama: Perfectly acceptable. Izuna, hiding in the bushes nearby:
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ajfoxships · 2 days ago
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kakagai valentines week day 1
prompt : first dates
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Me: hmm I think I should add a background, maybe a noodle shop or something. It shouldn’t take too long…
*me two days later covered in blood, pencil shavings, & ink* : I HAVE GRAVELY MISCALCULATED
I am genuinely pretty proud of this work, it took some serious effort but I like how it turned out! (Tho at the end of it kks & gai are barely visible lol, I think it counts tho)
@kkgiweek
if you for whatever reason are interested in hearing me yell about background art it’s below the cut
Can you tell this took forever? Because this took forever, I mean seriously like half this canvas is covered in white-out. I wanted to add a little background but noooo I had to draw an entire frickin’ village and screw up my wrist in the process, good going AJ!
I’m pretty sure that everyone in my general vicinity has now heard me swear about architecture for the 18th time today,.
I mean seriously how do people draw this stuff without tearing out their hair over it, i redrew most of this and the perspective is still jacked up! I didn’t even finish this I just quit!
So yeah… I think I’m done with backgrounds for the rest of the week.
god I spent so much time on this, why did I do this to myself…. i-I think I’m gonna take a nap now…
I’ll be back with more tomorrow, but for now sleep beckons me…
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zepskies · 1 hour ago
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Aw thank you so much for giving me the idea and letting me run with it!! 🥰
Oooh I feel like with Big Sky you can start from the last episode of season 2 and more or less understand why Beau is there. Whereas with the Boys...yeah, you definitely need to see season 1 and 2 before you watch 3. 😉 Still, I'm so glad you could still have fun with this batch of HCs!!
Aww no worries on 10 Inch. It's not the best movie ever, but Priestly is oh so very adorkable in it! 💜💜
Hahaa yay!! Another Friends fan! 💕
I was imagining MEV reader again, and as I was writing this I kept getting myself confused because I’m relating her to Monica’s love of cooking. But Dean is a bit of a mother hen and fussy with the cleanliness of his room, so he’s definitely got some similarities with Monica there haha - role reversal when the ‘bossy’ one gets bossed - just go to bed Dean!
Awww honestly it makes me so happy you were imagining the Midnight Espresso-verse reader! 🥹 That version of her and Dean live in my heart rent free always. But you're right, she totally embodies Dean's love of cooking while he holds her down in a similar way that Chandler holds down and supports Monica. She also dotes on Dean a lot though, so it would make sense to me how she'd be taking care of Dean and making sure he slows down to take care of himself. 💞 (Yes, go right to bed, Dean!!)
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I’m really surprised by Beau’s character. I’ve read a couple of fics where the big 3 were all present, granted they were crackish, but I was under the impression he was a little more grounded and sweeter? And I guess he probably is, I’ll give him a pass because he has the man flu, but I didn’t realise he was such a work-a-holic. Then again, he’s a sheriff, makes sense. And at least he listens eventually, even if there were a few, I’ll say instructions. Man runs a right ship. “And can you get me…”
Aw yeah, Beau tends to be more grounded and a little more mature than Dean, but he still has a playful aspect to him, along with a hidden edge of trauma in his past (you'll see when you watch the show).
Yes! The idea was that he's the sheriff and really gets into his work, but once he caves to her telling him he needs to take it easy, it was my HC that he'd settle into being her patient. More sweet but annoying, in a "can you get me just one more thing, baby?" kind of way lmao.
He’s just a dick, a grumbly one, but also a softie and wants some love deep down right? You won’t win it with yachts, mate, although I guess it’s worked for him before?
Oooh yes, Ben is selfish and an asshole, most of the time. Taciturn and grumpy, but for someone he actually cares about I feel like he'd try to soften up just for her. 😉
LOL he's learning that love isn't just throwing money around. 😆
I’m going to see if I can watch Ten Inch Hero 🤞 - but now I really want to know if I was to read one of your Ben fics (being a super hero interests me the most), is there one I could read where I wouldn’t have to watch the show first? 👉👈 spoilers don’t bother me, I read supernatural fics set in the bunker before I’d even gotten there 😅 but I want to check one out and Break Me Down is looking very appealing ❤️
10 Inch Hero is an easy watch! Though with Soldier Boy, I reeeeally recommend you watch The Boys first to get a sense of the world, the characters, the background of SB's story. It's a wild ride lol, but I would truly love it if you read Break Me Down! That's the SB series I'm most proud of, and was my first foray into figuring out how to write Soldier Boy. 🥰💚 Hopefully BMD emulates the tone of the show. I tried to do justice to SB's characterization, as well as the other Boys characters, like Butcher, Hughie, Annie, M.M. etc.
However, if you do decide to dive into BMD before watching the show, the main thing you need to know is that Soldier Boy (real name Ben) is a Boys parody of Captain America...if with a Winter Soldier "captured by Russians and tortured for 40 years" storyline. 😅
At the end of season 3, there's a big showdown between Homelander, SB, Butcher, and the rest of the main characters. BMD is canon divergent from how season 3 ended, but you can read up on the canon plotline here.
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HEADCANON: Man Flu
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Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader || Beau Arlen x Reader || Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader || Boaz Priestly x Reader
HC: When Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Boaz Priestly get sick, how would they act when you (try to) take care of them?
AN: After reading I Got You by @bettystonewell (Dean x Reader) and The Best Kind of Medicine by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Soldier Boy x Reader), I realized that I've never actually written a sick-fic before. Here it is in headcanon form, since you guys seem to like these! lol 💜
Also adding Priestly to this lineup for the first time because some of you have been requesting more of him recently. 😉
Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, sick-fic, some needy affection-starved men who don't want to admit they're needy, lots of fluff.~
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Dean Winchester
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He's not sick. Because he doesn't get sick.
Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.
He's too busy interrupting himself, namely by coughing half a lung, wheezing, blinking teary eyes -- the whole phlegmy nine yards.
Sam shakes his head, casting you a look that frankly says, Good luck.
He knows his brother is stubborn as hell, and one of the things Dean dislikes most is being fussed over for "no reason." Being seen as weak. Not being able to just shrug his shoulders and shake it off.
To be fair, Dean tries. Except this time it's accompanied by a body shiver and a reluctant sniffle. His pallid face is drawn, and his usually strong and solid frame looks unsteady as he leans a hand on the War Room table.
"Okay, come on, Rambo. Let's get you back into bed," you say, guiding your boyfriend back to the room you share with him.
"I'm find," he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.
"Sure you are, baby," you say with a smirk. "You're in the primb of libe."
Dean shoots you a narrowed look. Damn you for forcing him to binge-watch all those episodes of Friends late at night when you both can't sleep.
Right now he's Monica, trying to convince you he's in tip-top shape, while you're Chandler, just trying to get him to use tissues instead of his flannel sleeve to wipe his runny nose.
After taking his boots off, you get him to change out of his jeans and back into his sweatpants. Then you manage to get him to lay down under the covers with the promise of coming back with medicine and soup.
"I don't want soup, damn it," he grumbles. You just roll your eyes and rub his arm.
"Just rest. I'll be back with the Vicks."
As you might expect, Dean is not an easy patient.
He refuses to drink tea, but he does down the pills you bring for him, with a measured toss of his head that still makes his head swim. He groans.
He swallows a couple of cautious spoonfuls of the soup, pausing when he realizes that its warmth actually feels good down his sore and scratchy throat. It tastes pretty good too, especially with the warm, buttered slices of bread on the side.
"You made this?" he asks.
"Mhmm," you nod, smiling. If nothing else, good food will pacify this man. "Chicken and wild rice, made especially for you."
"Hmm. S' good," he nods in reply. He manages to finish the bowl.
He has to admit, if just to himself, that he does feel like shit.
He won't admit that the way you're rubbing his back, the gentle pressure of your nails between his shoulders and down his spine relaxes him, makes him feel better.
He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.
It's a little overwhelming. A heavy swell of pressure fills his chest, so he tries not to let himself think about it for very long.
(He fails.)
After he's done eating, you take the plates away and help him back into bed. You linger there, slipping your fingers through his soft brown hair and pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead.
"I really need you to rest, okay," you say quietly. "If you need anything, just text me or Sam. Don't get out of bed."
Dean grasps your hand before you can move away from him. Since you're probably going to wash your hands anyway, he lays a kiss on the back of your hand.
"Thanks, sweetheart."
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Beau Arlen
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Sheriff Beau Arlen is the type to run himself into the ground because he's so damn into his work.
He wants to do well in his station of responsibility, and he feels like he has to make up for his performance during the summer madness of Buck Barnes and Avery...and everything in between.
You just have to make Beau realize that he needs to slow down, before he well and truly burns himself out.
You put your foot down one morning.
He tries to get out of bed but has to pause, his head swimming. He takes a couple of steadying breaths while sitting on the edge of the bed.
You notice with a frown. "Hey, you okay?"
"Fine. Just fine," he answers a little too breathlessly. He raises a hand to his head. His throat is sticky and coarse. He wrinkles his nose when he also feels a sneeze coming on.
"Just need a...a...mugh-ah-ha-hugh."
His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn't even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.
"Aw, babe. You're sick," you say as you move over to him, resting a hand on his back. He shakes his head and groans.
"Nah, can't be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today," he says. His voice is like gravel blended with broken glass. It would actually be sexy, if for the distinctly un-sexy way he tries to clear the great wad of phlegm from his throat.
He tries to rock himself onto his feet, but there he sways on the landing. You hurry out of bed to grab his arm and steady him.
"Oh no, you don't. Back into bed," you say.
"Aw, sweetheart. I'll be fine--"
"No. Lay down. You're not going in today," you say more firmly, all while you tuck the man back into bed with the blankets covering him.
"All right, all right. No need to be so pushy," he can't help but tease.
It earns a small smirk on your face. It seems like his man flu hasn't yet deprived him of his sense of humor.
"I thought you liked that though," you reply. You sit on the edge of the bed and rub his chest. He groans in defeat.
"Can't believe this," he grumbles. "Today of all days--"
"There's always going to be another case. This is your body telling you that you need to slow down," you tell him. "So how about this. I'm gonna call in one of my sick days, and we'll bunker in together."
You stroke his bearded cheek. He quirks a smile, grabbing your hand and squeezing warmly.
"How long until I'm allowed out, warden?" he asks.
"Until you can stand without keeling over," you dryly reply. A smile tugs at your lips. "Remind me to stop by CVS to grab you a Life Alert."
"All right, har har haugh--" His sarcasm ends on a very real, wheezing cough. Your amused smile drops. You relent from your teasing and stroke his chest once more.
"Okay, just rest. Let me get you some actual medicine and I'll be right back."
He stops you by grabbing your wrist. "Hey, uh...can I have some chicken noodle soup later?"
"Of course, baby. I'll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you."
"And some saltines?"
"Saltine crackers on the side. Got it."
You're about to head to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you start getting ready to go to the store, but once again, Beau's needy hand stops you.
"Before you go, some tea with honey and lemon would be good. Just something for my throat," he croaks.
You smile and nod. "Yeah, for sure. That'll be better for you than coffee."
"Oh, and can you gimme that quilt over there?" he asks, pointing to your favorite knitted blanket at the edge of the bed. You graciously lay it over his form and drop a kiss onto his forehead.
"And some cough drops. Thank you, darlin'," Beau adds.
Your lips begin to press together, but you nod and continue getting dressed.
You can already tell this man is going to settle into you taking care of him just fine.
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Soldier Boy (Ben)
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Neither of you thought it was possible, considering his super genes that allowed him to eat and booze and drug harder than Andre the Giant and Keith Richards put together.
But one day, your over six-foot super soldier goes down hard. The warning signs came the night before, when you could hardly sleep with the way he was snoring like a grizzly bear.
In the morning, he wakes bleary-eyed with a runny nose and a coughing fit hard enough to shake the bed.
"Fuck," he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back. "This's gotta be some kind of bullshit hangover."
You move over to him in bed and feel the intense warmth of his clammy forehead. Your brows draw together in concern.
"No, I think you're sick."
"Not possible," he grumbles. "I haven't been sick since..."
Well, since he was a kid, probably. He won't admit it, but he's surprised he still has that memory lodged in the back of his mind.
It comes to the forefront now: your hand on his cheek unknowingly mimics his mother's gentle touch, her soft, kind voice.
"Aw, my sweet boy. Let's get you feeling better."
He can almost recall the floral scent of her perfume, echoes of it in the shampoo you use.
Ben claims he's fine, that he doesn't need your help or want the medicine and tea you bring for him. (He tries the tea, grimaces, and spits it out when you're not looking.)
He's a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to. He doesn't mind lying around and watching movies all day, not to mention episode after episode of Below Deck. It reminds him that he wants to get back into boating.
"Hey, sweetheart," he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. "I'm getting you a yacht for Valentine's Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim."
You roll your eyes to yourself when you step back into the room. You're carrying a tray with a large bowl of soup and a fifth of whiskey. He claims the latter will help soothe his throat, and you don't have the heart to argue with him when he's clearly feeling so shitty.
"You mean you're getting you a yacht," you reply wryly. "We live in the city. Where the hell would we put a boat?"
"In a yacht club, where it belongs," Ben retorts. He hooks an arm around your waist and peruses what you've brought him on the tray. He doesn't look all that interested.
"Look, I know you're not exactly a soupy kinda guy, but this'll make you feel better," you say.
"Why can't you put some fucking steak in it or something?" he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough.
"Why can't you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you," you snipped back.
He rolls his eyes at your attitude, but he pipes down. In that silence, he's conceding that you have a point. There was a time were all he had to do was glance in someone's direction, and there'd be some fucking moron to fulfill his every whim.
Now, you're probably the only one in the world that would actually do what you're doing...
Cooking for him, putting your heart into it, for the simple reason that you do care.
Ben takes the bowl of soup from your hands. Raising a brow, you offer him the spoon as well.
He eats without further complaint.
You smile and reward him with a sweet kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back as you do so.
"See? That's not so hard, huh?" you can't help but needle him. "It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."
He eyes you dryly, but he won't admit that there's a different kind of warmth coiling in his chest.
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Boaz Priestly
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"Uuuughhh, babe," he groans. "I feel like death on toast."
You're standing beside the bed with a smile playing on your lips. You brush back his for once un-gelled hair back from his face. It's weird to see it all limp and lifeless, slightly damp with sweat.
"Unironically, I should make you some toast," you reply. "What kind of medicine do we have?"
Priestly unearths his head from under his pillow to look up at you with miserable red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling, stuffy nose. "Can we count the tequila in the mini bar?"
"Maybe later," you laugh. "How are we on groceries?"
Priestly struggles to think. He takes your hand and rubs it back and forth across his chest. Maybe your sweet, loving touch has the power to clear away his congestion without him needing Vicks. Too minty.
"We have that pastrami I brought back from the shop," he says.
"That's six days old already," you shake your head.
"Aw, that's still good," he argues. "But uh, other than that, I think I have half a cheeseburger left from last night."
Last night's date at TGI Friday's, he means.
You heave a sigh. "Okay, clearly I'm going to the store. You just stay in bed and rest. Drink your tea."
He grimaces like a child. "I don't like tea."
"I know you don't like tea, but you need to drink it. It's good for your throat and your immune system."
He groans and flops back over onto his stomach. You bite your lip against a smile. He's such a whiny baby when he's sick.
Talk about Man Flu.
"Come on, be a good boy for me," you say, smacking him lightly on the ass. "Soon enough you'll feel better."
A smile creeps across his face where it's pressed against his pillow.
"Know what would really make me feel better?" he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.
"Oh, no. You're not gonna get your germs all over me," you say.
"Hey, what happened to in sickness and in health?" he croaks. Even while under the weather, he's still plenty strong enough to grapple with you. He manages to yank you down. Laughing, you stumble into a seat on the edge of the bed.
"Huh, I don't remember exchanging any vows. You see a ring on this finger?" you tease, flashing your bare hand in his face to try and distract him and weasle out of his grip. "I can jump this ship anytime I want."
Priestly pouts. His arm hooks tighter around your waist. "Huh, guess you got me there..."
He turns his head and coughs roughly into his arm. Your amusement fades into concern and sympathy. You lay a hand over his chest while he struggles.
Once again, he clasps his free hand over yours. He glances up a bit hesitantly into your eyes.
"Well, maybe it's time there should be something on this finger," he murmurs.
You blink your eyes wider. Your head tilts, wondering if you just heard him right. Is this delirium fever talking, or is he serious?
"O-Oh yeah?" you ask.
Priestly tries to gauge your reaction. Seeing your face break out into a cute, shy smile raises the corners of his lips. Hope blooms in his chest, right beneath your hand.
"Yeah," he says, trying to clear his cracking throat. "I mean, if you're okay with that. If it's not too soon--"
You slip your fingers over his plush, chapped lips, and your smile brightens.
"When you're feeling better, you can ask me that question properly."
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AN: 😆 I hope you liked the first ever addition of Priestly!! It was so fun to try and write him again (it's been a while lol). Feel free to imagine this vignette in the same storyverse as The Miracle Man and Code Red.
But I also hope you enjoyed the "Big 3," as I call them, even though Russell is starting to give Beau a run for his money on one of those slots. 😂 Let me know which guy you had the most fun reading on this one! 💜
And if you want even more fluff before Valentine's Day, check out my friend @waynes-multiverse who just posted her set of V-Day headcanons with Dean, Soldier Boy, Beau, and Russell: Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕
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theonlyqualitytrash · 2 days ago
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Dear Quality,
Do you think Fyodor and his wife Reader would have wanted to have children, or would they have preferred to live a child-free life? What do you imagine his views about him having a kid would be like?
.
.
.
All right, listen to me. I was watching one of Chloe Chua's videos. You can also check it out if you want. :>
https://youtu.be/WT9jOZLFaEY?si=VCkz7fuBhK9HOpz0
Meanwhile, I was also browsing on Pinterest when I came across John Collier's painting "The Sonatina."
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Then, for some reason, this scenario popped up in my mind. 🥺 We know that Fyodor is already a skilled cello player, and he presumably also spent many years of his life practicing a variety of other instruments in his free time, given his love and appreciation of classical music. I thought to myself—Fyodor having a child who was just as passionate about music as he is, and I thought of them playing together, Fyodor being so proud of his little one—it was just adorable to think about.
Anyway, I just wanted to share this random idea with you. What I'm really curious about is your answer to my earlier question.
My own answer to that would probably be like this: If I stop daydreaming, I think that although Fyodor may like children, he wouldn't want to have a child of his own for reasons you can reckon. BUT let's say hypothetically he meets the love of his life. He already knows that he will outlive her due to his ability. Therefore, he might not be against having children with his beloved if she wishes to.
Despite the fact that he knows he will have to watch them pass away, he would have wanted to make sure that their shared moments together were the happiest it could possibly be for her - so if she had really wanted to have children with him, I think he would have agreed to it. Besides, he would have liked to have a perfect mixture of them. After all, they have a limited amount of time, and he would have tried to make the most of it. He would have stayed by their side even in their final breaths.
And a child would be the fruit of their love, wouldn't it? Years pass, and his descendants live on, unaware that one of their oldest ancestors is still very much around. After all those portraits he spent countless hours painting her, they are the only flesh and blood reminders he has of his darling wife, whom he misses terribly. And Fyodor keeps a keen eye on them from afar. But no one would know about his connection to them except himself.
Okay, I started to daydream and talk nonsense again despite saying I wouldn't do it, lol. 😭 Feel free to respond whenever you want. Love u.
Hello, dear Berry! <3
AHHH—thank you for this question! I’ve spent far too much time contemplating the idea of Fyodor and fatherhood, and let’s just say… it’s a complicated dream. On paper, he is the absolute worst candidate to be around children (I mean, the man has literally used children strapped to explosives as part of his grand schemes—joke, but also not really). And yet, if we set aside that rather damning detail and indulge in a little fantasy, things become much more complex.
The video you sent me? Absolutely enchanting. Chloe is a true gem—so expressive in her artistry. It was wonderful to hear that she’s still doing well, even years after this performance. ^^ I also loved seeing how warmly the other musicians treated her. And don’t even get me started on the comments—equal parts delightfully wholesome and gloriously unhinged. :))
As for the painting—it carries this timeless, wistful elegance, and I can’t help but see Chloe’s performance within it. The title, "The Sonatina", is also such a poetic touch. A sonatina is, in essence, a short sonata. In naming his work, John Collier may have been likening the young girl he painted to a sonatina herself: a melody not yet fully realized, brimming with potential but still small, still tender. Perhaps, had she been older, the title would have been The Sonata instead, reflecting growth and completion. To me, this name captures something fragile: a moment of youth suspended in time. If anyone ever called me something so achingly lovely, I think I would simply dissolve on the spot.
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But back to Fyodor—because as much as I want to dream, I cannot. I don’t believe he was ever destined for fatherhood. As you pointed out, there are countless reasons why he would never bring a child into this world.
To him, children are the epitome of purity—beautiful, fragile, untainted. And above all, he would love them too much. So much that the thought of them growing up in a world so corrupted, so uncertain, so riddled with suffering would be unbearable. So he would refuse. He would be against it.
And yet, for his beloved wife, he would waver. He would never seek fatherhood, but if she pleaded—truly pleaded—perhaps he would give in.
The only world in which he could accept raising a child is the one he envisions—a purified world, stripped of ability users, free from the sin he so despises. But what is Fyodor himself, if not the embodiment of that very sin?
In the end, his pursuit of perfection would demand the ultimate price—his own existence. He would carve his utopia into reality with blood-stained hands, only to erase himself from it. And in doing so, he would leave behind the woman he loved—pregnant, perhaps—to raise their child in the world he died to create. A world without him. A child who would never know their father, except through echoes of his ideology, shadows of his absence.
And then what? Would his name become a whispered legend, a martyr for a cause too grand to hold love within it?
The mere thought of it makes me want to claw my own eyes out. :(
But let’s step away from doomed inevitabilities and take the hypothetical path—one where we entertain the thought of Fyodor as a father, no strings attached. Like you, I do believe he would want children, even knowing he might outlive them. He would love his descendants quietly, distantly���never smothering, never overbearing, but always there.
I also think he would search for traces of his late wife in them.
He seems like the type to linger in the shadows, watching over them unseen, ensuring they are safe, protected, untouched by the horrors he himself endured. A silent guardian, orchestrating their happiness without ever stepping into the light.
I can see him leaving anonymous gifts—books filled with cryptic annotations, letters never signed but unmistakably his. Little traces of himself, scattered through generations, proof that he was there even when he wasn’t. His great-grandchildren might grow up with the quiet knowledge that someone—some enigmatic presence—has been looking after them all along.
And when death inevitably comes for the ones he loves, I do not think he would bury them. Graves are too final, too absolute. No, Fyodor would keep their ashes, refusing to let them return to the earth so easily. Perhaps he would scatter them somewhere meaningful—a place only he knows, where the wind can carry their presence across the world. Or perhaps he would keep them close, hidden away in a place untouched by time, a shrine of memory that only he visits. A way of preserving them, as if to defy death itself.
And yet, no matter how you twist it, it is always tinged with sorrow. He either never gets to see his child, or he will see them die before him. More than anything, he longs for rest. For peace. But peace, for someone like him, is as fleeting as a whispered prayer.
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Now, let’s imagine a scenario where Fyodor does have a child—and teaches them to play.
Berry, thank you so much for submitting this. It truly made me happy, and I hope I’ve answered your question. I love you too, and I hope you’re taking care of yourself. <3
Word count: 2,000
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The evening at home unfolded in its familiar embrace of gentle, comforting quiet. Nestled beside your husband on the couch, you let your knitting needles work, the quiet click of yarn looping together marked the steady progress of a scarf for your darling daughter. Beside you, Fyodor reclined slightly, a book in hand, his expression as calm as ever. The air carried a serene harmony that bound the three of you together. 
You had always cherished these moments. The rustle of turning pages, the reassuring warmth of Fyodor’s presence, and the way silence never felt empty but full—rich with the quiet understanding shared between family. 
Then, breaking the gentle silence, a small voice emerged. 
“Papa,” came the tiny, curious question. “Do you only play the cello?” 
Dunya—Avdotya, though always Dunya to you both—had just turned four. Her dark curls framed her round face, her eyes bright with curiosity as she peered up at her father. You smiled as she wordlessly wiggled between you, pressing close in the way only a child could, small hands reaching to claim his attention. 
Fyodor set his book down, its cover closing softly with a deliberate thud. His gaze softened the instant it fell on his daughter, the cool detachment in his eyes dissipating in favor of something rarer—something infinitely more tender. A small flicker of warmth crossed his features, subtle but deep, before his lips curved into the faintest smile. 
"No, myshka," he whispered. "I play many instruments." 
Dunya’s eyes widened with wonder, her small hands latching onto the sleeve of his shirt. “Then… what was the first instrument you ever learned?” 
You watched, utterly taken by the quiet exchange between them. Fyodor’s gaze grew distant, his usual composed exterior wavering as he considered her question. A brief pause settled over him, a rare moment of stillness where even he seemed to step beyond his carefully measured presence, touched by something close to vulnerability. 
Then, with a soft, knowing smile, he answered. “The gudok.” 
Dunya blinked, lips parting in a quiet pout as she processed the unfamiliar word. Then, as understanding gave way to excitement, she grinned, her whole face alight. “I want to learn it too! I want it to be my first instrument—just like you, Papa! Please teach me!” 
Her enthusiasm was so pure and untouched by the weight of the world, unburdened by doubt or hesitation. She had no reason to question her place in it. And that—more than anything—was what Fyodor had always longed for. What he needed. Hope. Hope in a world he saw as tainted. 
They talk of hope as if it's a fragile thing, something transient, wrought from whispers and spider silk. But his hope was another story altogether—bloody, dirt-filled, trampled by the world. His hope never flinched—it always got back up for the next bout. 
You didn’t know exactly what Fyodor was thinking at that moment, but you were certain of one thing. He was happy. 
Your heart swelled as you watched them, father and daughter, wrapped in something so simple yet overflowing with love. 
He reached out, resting a gentle hand against the crown of her head, fingers threading through soft hair. “Is that so?” he mused, amusement threading through his tone. “Then we shall begin at once.” 
The joy that filled the room was clear. Fyodor’s gaze softened further, the shadows that so often clung to him dissolving in the light of his child’s presence. And for that fleeting moment, you saw it—the weight of tenderness in his touch, the quiet promise that no matter the cost, he would shape and protect this little life with everything he had. 
With that promise, the lessons began. 
As the days passed, a quiet ritual took root. Fyodor’s words were always calm, measured—yet laced with a warmth rarely seen in his dealings with others. When Dunya had expressed her wish to learn the gudok, he hadn’t dismissed it, nor had he treated it as a passing whim. He had seen the spark in her eyes, the determination brimming just beneath the surface, and he had made a silent vow—to nurture and guide her with the same care he gave to precious things. 
The first few lessons were slow, methodical, just like him. Dunya’s small fingers fumbled, uncertain of where to press, the bow trembling in her grasp. But Fyodor, ever patient, never sighed, never furrowed his brow, never let frustration touch his voice. 
He would sit behind her, hands hovering just above hers like a guardian angel, ready to guide but never to force. His quiet, steady voice guided her to understanding. “Hold the bow lightly, myshka,” he would murmur, careful never to let his words shake her confidence. “Like holding a breath—gentle, not too tight.” 
Every now and then, you would catch them in some hidden corner of your home—his hand resting on the shoulder of her smaller frame. Dunya's face tilted upwards in purposeful listening, as though she saw the world through his eyes. Fyodor was not a man who granted his full attention readily, and yet in those moments, something in him yielded, something held back came to life—something that only existed for Dunya. 
Now and again, you would be shooed away, welcomed with a firm yet teasing, "Not now, Mama. It's Papa's time." Their studies were inviolate, a world that belonged to them alone, cut off from the world as though it existed in another time altogether. 
Yet, even from a distance, you would hear Fyodor’s voice as he adjusted Dunya’s posture or murmured quiet praise for a well-played note. What they were building was more than music; it was something deeper, something unspoken. For Fyodor, teaching had never been just about the notes, the bow, the strings—it was about passing down something more. 
Every lesson carried with it a quiet kind of love. A love he might never say aloud, but one that was felt in every patient correction, in every steadying hand, and in every fleeting smile that softened his otherwise sharp edges. 
It was in the way he watched over her with quiet intensity, ensuring she was never rushed, never forced—only guided. He let her move at her own pace, teaching her not just how to play an instrument, but how to be patient, to endure, and to strive quietly yet steadily toward something greater. 
And Dunya, for her part, was a model student. Her resolve was a mirror image of his, steady and unshakeable. With each new day, her modest but consistent improvement was a testament to his patient teaching. She was developing under his attentive eye—her spirit undefeated, her affection for her father, this silent, cautious, and reflective man, growing with each lesson. 
Occasionally, when the lesson was over, Fyodor would reach out—tucking in a stray curl, brushing a gentle kiss against her temple in a rare moment of affection. “You’re coming along nicely, Dunya,” he would murmur, his voice low and affectionate. And yet, even as he spoke, his gaze remained distant; it was as if he saw something beyond the present moment—something only he could understand. 
For Fyodor, this was never just about teaching her to play. It was about giving her something of himself—a piece of his soul, a gift she could carry long after the lessons had ended. 
Weeks passed, and the lessons continued, steady and unhurried. Dunya’s grasp on the gudok grew firmer, her fingers more certain, her small efforts beginning to shape into something real, something resembling music. Every practice session became a quiet, careful dance—his focus on her, and her eager determination to live up to the father she adored. 
The understanding crept in gradually, unfolding like a gentle melody in your chest. But when it finally formed, it caught your breath. Fyodor hadn't been passing on a love of music. He had been preparing the way for something more—something personal, something for you. 
He had been teaching Dunya a song. A song for you. 
The day itself came on a still afternoon, the yellow light outdoors growing softer as evening set in. Something in the air held a particular heaviness, an unspoken expectation you couldn't quite define. 
"Sit, dearest," Fyodor whispered, easing you onto the couch. His eyes, fixed and inscrutable, didn't leave Dunya's face. 
As you settled in, Fyodor sat beside you, his expression as serene as always—although beneath it, there was something you couldn't quite grasp. His fingers traced over yours, drawing slow, soothing circles on your skin, grounding you in the here and now. 
Over by the window, Dunya sat stiffly on her small stool, the gudok held delicately in her lap. The bow shuddered a little in her hand, but her face reflected only steadfast resolve. 
The room fell silent. 
With a small inclination of his head, Fyodor nodded to her. 
And Dunya started to play. 
For a few seconds, it was as if you were standing in a vast concert hall. You and Fyodor were used to go to such places—beautiful theatres, ornate opera houses—but this? This was different. This was private, sacred. Your daughter, this little shining creature, was more gorgeous than any spectacle you had ever seen. 
The initial notes trembled, uncertain, slightly off-key—but they were deeply moving. Unpolished and raw, yet painfully sincere. The melody, searching and fine, filled the space, a mirror of her small hands navigating something much larger than merely music. It was love, crafted into sound. A song formed by her father's quiet devotion, borne by her own earnest heart. 
And it was for you. 
You could hear him in her every movement. In the way she adjusted her posture, in how she eased into the rhythm, in the careful precision of her small hands. Every note carried his voice—not in sound, but in guidance. But it was more than just a song. 
It was a message. A gift. An unspoken vow, shaped by his hands and entrusted to hers. 
The music was simple—a gentle lullaby, exquisite in its quiet elegance—but to you it was the most beautiful music you had ever heard. As Dunya's bow danced across the strings, her confidence increasing with every note, you knew what this really was: a silent message from Fyodor. A message of love, time, and effort, crafted solely for your ears. 
And when the final note faded into the room's silence, your throat swelled with a lump. You were so proud, so unbearably moved, and you swore you wouldn't cry. 
Dunya's eyes met yours, expectant and wide. 
You clapped, your palms striking together in love, your heart aching with fullness. But before you could say anything, Fyodor's fingers brushed against your shoulder. 
"She did well, didn't she?" 
His tone was low, but in it was something unusual—something tender. When you faced him, you smiled gently and nodded. And then you saw it echoed in the blurriness of his eyes: a tender pride, a soft love he rarely spoke of but wove into every lesson, every moment spent molding this little miracle in front of you. 
His fingers drifted down, tightening around yours for a moment before his gaze was back on Dunya. He didn't miss a beat as he whispered, "Well done, myshka." 
Your heart brimmed with so much love at this moment, it felt as if it might overflow. Smiling, you extended a hand, placing it on Dunya's face and kissing her forehead. 
"You were wonderful, Dunya," you whispered, your voice warm, full of all the things you couldn't quite say. 
Then you settled back into the couch, your head against Fyodor's shoulder, as Dunya climbed into his lap. He didn't shift, didn't pull away—his hand stayed in yours, firm and certain. A silent vow. A bond as profound and unshakeable as the music that had filled the room. 
And for that moment, everything felt right. 
Fyodor, ever reserved and calculating, had given you something priceless—not just his time and care, but something far more profound. His love. Woven into every note of the song he had taught your daughter to play. 
A quiet concert, where words weren’t needed. 
Because love had already been spoken in the melody. 
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Now some interesting things about the gudok! It is an ancient (similar to Fyodor) three stringed Eastern Slavic musical instrument, played with a bow. Its design and playing technique bear resemblance to other instruments like the Bulgarian gadulka and the Byzantine lyra. One would hold the gudok on their lap, like a cello or viola da gamba (but I have seen the gudok being held as a violin as well).
Feast your eyes:
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Dividers: saradika-graphics
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yannasuniverse · 2 days ago
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𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐁𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮? | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏
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𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Dominique Darius x Reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Domi have been rivals since y’all have entered college, You didn’t like her and she didn’t like you plain simply but what happens after you and her have a altercation on the court leading you and her become close with one and other and soon realizing all that hatred was love all along.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: There will be cussing, smut, arguing.
𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: This is a slow burn so if you don’t like that this is not for you if you wanted to be added to the taglist dm me or comment.
𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚: This is my first time writing for Domi and I need her so BAD # NEED THAT BAD
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“You know your going to lose again for a third time again right?” Dominique taunted in your ear looking at you with that smug smirk that you hated. Rolling your eyes at her words beginning to walk away.
“Have nothing to say? Why because you know it’s true?” She says taunting you even further as she followed you. Turning around pushing Dominique hard on the floor with a angry look on your face.
She sat there confused for a sec before getting up shoving you back “What the fuck is your problem!” Dominique said making you getting up immediately hit her back.
Next thing you know your being drag away by your teammate Aubrey with blood dripping down your nose while Dominique had blood running down her lip.
“Stupid bitch! Fuck you!” You yelled struggle to get out of Aubrey’s grasp.
“Fuck you too!” Dominique yelled as one of her teammates lead her into the tunnel.
Once she was out of site Aubrey finally sat you down on a chair while medic immediately rush to you trying to stop the bleeding. You sat their getting medical attention as Geno yelled in your ear.
“What is wrong with you?! Your one of my best players I can’t have you acting like this!” “Yeah but she literally!-” you tried to protest but only to be cut off “That’s no excuse! You have to ignore stuff like that!”.
Putting your head down as he continued to yell at you, tear’s welling in your eyes. “Do you understand?!”
Nodding your head “Yes sir..” you mange to mumbled out “good now go in the back and get cleaned up” He said dismissing you, patting your back as you stood up walking to the back.
Walking into the locker room going to your locker. Sitting down burying your head in your hands, frustration and anger filled you as you let Geno’s words sink in.
Grabbing your clothes, changing out of your jersey. Walking into the bathroom, whining as you saw your nose bruising purple.
“Just fuck my life” you said walking out to the locker room, reaching the court seeing the fourth quarter was about to end.
Walking over to the bench sitting next Azzi “Are you ok?” Azzi said looking at you in concern as she examined your face.
Giving her a nod and a small smile “Yeah am fine, just you know a little mad at myself that’s it” You say try to shrug off your real feelings.
She gave to a look not believing that your a little mad at yourself “Don’t lie too me, don’t beat yourself up it’s not your fault” she said rubbing your back before giving you a side hug.
The buzzer went off, the game ending with USC winning by 2.
Feeling eyes on you, looking around seeing The Dominique Darius staring right at you man spreading with her curls falling over her face perfectly and her busted lip you have gave her. Damn did she look good.
Y’all kept eye contact not nether of y’all Break it, You can feel your heart speed up a bit but dismissing it quickly breaking eye contact, following your teammates to shake hands.
Mumbling a small good game as you made your down the line. You had made it to the end of the line which of course she was at the end. Rolling your eyes as you got to her
Y’all stared at each other eyes never leaving each other’s. “Nice bruse” Domi said grinning ear to ear looking at your nose proud at what she did. Your eyes narrowed a bit getting annoyed again.
“Yeah I could say the same thing about you” You said with nothing but venom in your tone.
“It’s ok pretty don’t beat yourself up, am sure you beat me someday” She said walking past you to her team. Leaving you alone in your thoughts.
God did you hate Dominique Darius with every will in your body.
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©𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓
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nichoskittycorner · 3 days ago
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Bad Dragon ( &Team Leaderz smut)
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>> Its breeding season for the highland dragons and Euijoo is still struggling after several attempts over the years. Having never even been touched before, hes wondering how he'll make it through, especially after being rejected by just about every dragon there is. Calling in a huge favor from a senior dragon and friend, Fuma, hes ready to learn the ropes.
>> Threesome (Euijoo x reader xFuma), oral sex, virgin!Euijoo, Dragon!Fuma ,Dragon!Euijoo, size kink, bulging, creampies, lots of cum, y/n is a proud monstefucker (yes that's important), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight breeding kink, Euijoo is also massive loser energy and says stupid things-dont mind him,
Word count: 6.2k
A/N: I'm back on my monsterfucker bullshit! >:D. Okay so this was actually an old ass draft I didn't finish for some reason for months but it's completed now. I hope you enjoy this dumpster fire
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Mating season for dragons was a difficult time, especially for the inexperienced. There was an entire ritual, presentation, dance and then the actual act of mating itself-
Unfortunately for Euijoo, a young dragon, he was bad at all of it. He could never get the ritual right, his hoard was never glamorous enough to impress a mate, he tripped up the dance and lord knows actual mating was out of question. Hell he was practically scared of it.
All of his attempts to charm any female dragon was met by many reactions. Cooing at his pitiful attempts, cringing in disgust, shaking their heads in pity- hes seen it all. He was ready to give up after several years of trying.
Euijoo wasnt an ugly or weak dragon either. In his dragon form, he had a strong but lean frame. His scales are a lovely shade of royal blue that would catch anyone's eye. His eyes were a dazzling gold and held a warmth not many dragons held.
His human side had an almost opposite appearance. He was round in the face- his squishy cheeks, large eyes and soft smile were adored. But only in the way that little kids loved their brothers and grandmas loved their grandkids. Even with his little horns and the few patch of scales every dragon showed, he was still so soft in appearance.
In dragon society, his softness was seen as weakness. Even if he was a killing machine, mates wouldnt be easy to attract with his softness. As a result hes failed at attracting a mate successfully.
He was getting desperate at this point, so he went to the only person he knew could help, Fuma. A mentor and friend hes known for centuries.
Fuma was an older silver dragon. Strong, fierce and quite the gentleman. He knew the ins and outs of courting and had helped many a young desperate dragon. Not just with mating but he was a sweet dragon who loved helping people.
Euijoo had met Fuma after one of these failed attempts in the past. Embarrassed and dejected, Euijoo was sulking under a willow tree- gnawing on a branch to stop myself from biting his own tongue in frustration.
Maybe he could accept that this rejection was his fault- his treasure was a pretty small collection, it makes sense. He could try later after growing it! His little cave could use a bit of redecorating while he was at it!
But he quickly fell back into his sulking when he accounted that he had done this over 100 times. The branch between his lips snapping into pieces as he clamped his jaw down.
A low growl emitted from him before it melted into a groan. Leaning back onto the trunk of the grand tree. Kicking his shoes off before picking up another lone branch.
His branch biting streak ended with the arrival of an unexpected guest. In the distance, a beautiful silver dragon was looking for a place to rest after his flight.
Finding a lone and lovely willow tree, he circled it a few times from the sky before coming to a rest- wrapping his large body around the trunk.
The silver dragon stretched his wings and let out a great big yawn as he got comfortable. Resting his dragon head on his claws and closing his eyes.
Alas, his plan to sleep failed- disturbed by a squirming creature beneath his tail. He tried to ignore it but the squirming never stopped.
Lifting his tail, the dragon heard a loud gasp of air. Whatever was under there was clearly fighting for their life.
Red faced, shaky legged and rustled appearance, another dragon but still in his human form appeared from the other side of the tree.
Euijoo was beyond frazzled. One minute hes in his head under a peaceful tree and the next hes being suffocated by a scaly dragon tail. He was almost certain he would die but thankfully the bigger dragon got the hint and freed him.
"How?! Why?!"
The sight was ridiculous. Euijoo was tall by human standards but next to this large beast, he just size of a mere child. So him yelling and flaining around trying to scold the beast looked beyond outrageous.
Clearly the other dragon was amused by his antics. Chuckling in a way only a dragon with many years could before shifting back into a human state.
A man a bit shorter than Euijoo stood before him. He may be shorter but he was very fit and handsome (but so were all dragons). His eyes crinkled with a soft amusement and stuck his hand out to him. "Sorry about that buddy, are you okay?"
Euijoo was a little taken aback but shook his hand anyway. The handshake was firm but still kind. He nodded slowly as he continued to take in all aspects of the newcomer.
It was a silly meeting but that's how Euijoo and Fuma became friends. Fuma was clearly like the dad friend of the pair. Keeping Euijoo out of trouble and helping guide him through dragon life and all the little trials that came with it.
Euijoo was an adult dragon who could manage everything… well almost everything. A competent fighter, a skilled treasure hunter (somewhat), and even a kind neighbor- but Euijoo was a terrible lover.
He had the romantic competence of boiled eggs according to Fuma. It was attempted to be said lovingly but the point was missed.
Another failed mating attempt left the younger huffing in frustration, blowing a bit of fire as a result. Even as he lay on his pile of treasures, his spirits werent raised. Fuma even brought him a fresh goat to eat and he still whined.
"Euijoo, maybe we should try a different approach." The silver dragon tapped on his horn to get his attention, making the younger shiver.
"Different how?! I've tried everything I can think of and others ideas too! Maybe I'm destined to be a lone dragon!" He whined, picking up a golden necklace bedazzled in gems and woefully swinging it in between his fingers.
Fuma rolled his eyes and snatched the necklace away, tossing it aside. "Have you tried practicing? I got my start courting humans, it might work with you too!"
Euijoo sat up and said an eyebrow, his eyes stated doubt but his tail wagged enthusiastically. "Are you sure?"
"Of course- they're much easier to court and get in bed. You'll sharpen up your skills and humans dont mind causal mating interactions." Fuma's confidence in this method oozed through every aspect of him. How could he say no?
So, with a hope in his heart- he would give this one more shot…
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In order to blend in with humans, Euijoo and Fuma had to hide their dragon features. So they just resembled very tall and handsome humans.
The two had turned up at a club, a casual place to meet strangers. That and Euijoo could excuse his odd behavior on alcohol. Bright lights, loud music and the smell of sweat and cheap perfume filled the air.
Except Euijoo was already shaking, eyes darting around as his palms sweat. Fuma patted his back to try and ease his nerves. "Ju… relax. If you look like you'll pee your pants, no one is going to want to talk to you."
He nodded and took a deep breath- before he hiccuped and a puff of smoke left his mouth. Slapping his hands over his mouth to cover it up and burned red in the face.
Fuma groaned and pinched his brow. "That's not relaxing. Here, just go up to that girl over there and start a conversation." Fuma pointed to a lone girl relaxing by a bar, a fancy looking cocktail in her hands.
With his support, Euijoo wiped his hands and stood up straight. He fixed his hair and marched on over to her. Remembering all of Fuma's tips, he leaned against the counter and stood close but not too close to the stranger.
His presence caught her attention. His pretty face made her eye him up and down- a smirk growing on her lips.
"Well hello there pretty sir- who might you be?" She leaned in, fluttering her eyelashes as she looked at him.
From behind, Fuma had ordered a simple drink to look busy and support Euijoo from behind. So far, he was doing great! A great approach, confident posture- all he had to do was keep going-
"Would you like to do the mating ritual with me?"
Fuma choked and spat out his drink. That is NOT what they practiced?! He was so nervous he started to ramble his words- the girl was just as confused. Tilting her head and blinking as if she didnt hear him properly.
"I-Im sorry? What does that mean?"
"Ah that's the fun part! The mating dance, the presentation of the treasures, the - OW." Fuma hit him in the back with his elbow to shut him up.
"Oh, is this some type of furry thing?"
This was falling apart faster than a stone in the ocean.
"Furry? No I'm not furry-."
Fuma screamed into his hands and grabbed his friend- pulling him out of the club before he could say anything else.
Euijoo whined as his arms were yanked harshly. "Heeey- That was going so well Fuma! What happened?!"
"Well?! Euijoo you had her thinking you were a furry!"
" Not you too Fuma! We're scaly not furry! Maybe your drink was too strong."
Fuma groaned and started heading in the direction of another club. "Okay, let's try again… And stay away from the mating and furry talk."
Euijoo nodded proudly and followed behind Fuma.
If Fuma thought the first attempt was bad, he had no idea what he was in for. Somehow each attempt was a little worse than the last.
Even when Fuma kept trying to remind him to stop mentioning the dragon thing or the mating dance and whatnot he kept babbling about it. At some point, they had exhausted just about every option and sulked out around 3am.
Euijoo near tears at all his failed attempts and Fuma ready to just make a bride for Euijoo at this point.
"How… how are you not able to flirt with humans and dragons?!" He was only met with a defeated shrug. Fuma sighed and tossed his arms around his shoulder, pulling him to his side as they continued to walk.
"Don't… Don't beat yourself up Ju. Theres someone out there willing to be with you!" He beamed and dragged him along until they ended up in an open park. Sitting down at a lone bench and taking in the night air to reevaluate.
Euijoo sat back and looked up towards the dark sky. He wanted to keep up hope but it felt like it was waning. Would he really be alone forever? Was he really not made for anyone else?
His eyes shut as he tried to hold back the tears. No there has to be! You cant give up hope yet Euijoo!
His little pep talked continued until he noticed Fuma tense near him and a new scent arrive. It was sweet and yet very calming. Making his eyes peel open to meet a bizarre sight.
A pretty girl was staring down at him. Oddly close to his face and blinking with eyes full of wonder. "Woah, hello! You're so cool looking!"
Cool looking?! Euijoo sat up and stared in confusion at this girl, his face burning red at the compliment. Who was she?? Where did she come from? And why was she so close to him?
"Oh um, thank you! I'm uh Euijoo by the way." Euijoo smiled as the strange girl sat in between them, forcing Fuma to scoot over to the end of the bench and peek over. The older leaning over so Euijoo could see his panicked expression.
"Eui-joo? Well I'm Y/N! Where did you get such a cool costume?" Y/N asked and did something he couldnt have expected. Tapping at his forehead exactly where his horn would be. Euijoo froze and tried to remain calm.
He was in disguise, there should be nothing visible! She didnt say anything to Fuma though, was it that his magic had slipped and revealed his original form?
Y/N continued to tap his forehead before trailing her fingers down his cheeks, running down his neck and peeking into his shirt. "This body paint is amazing too! What's your secret?"
Euijoo was frozen, worried how you were able to see his dragon markings beyond his disguise. But the hot chill that sparked from your touch was even more concerning. His brain had completely shut off and he stopped thinking.
"Um, you- me- mate? Mate ritual!-"
Fuma's eyes went wide as he started to make a 'cut it out' motion with his hand. He knew the younger was panicking and was about a few moments from another failed attempt.
But you didnt squirm, cringe or laugh at him. Instead your eyes lit up as he continued to ramble eventually breaking down into giggles. Euijoo shut his mouth after that. That had been the most normal reaction he had seen all night and was gearing up for another rejection.
"Mating ritual? Is that a funny way of telling me you have a breeding kink and want to fuck?"
Fuma's jaw dropped before quickly recovering and gesturing for Euijoo to chase this chance. Euijoo was still malfunctioning but tried his best to catch the signal. Taking your hands and looking into your eyes.
His body lighting up by an unknown energy all the while. "Are you saying… you want to be with me? Like, in bed?”
A giggle overtook his shy question. "Sure why not! Come on, I'll lead you to my place. You too Euijoo's friend!" The two weren't going to question it and followed you back home silently. Euijoo in a panic and Fuma trying to calm him down the whole time.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Once you all arrived back at your apartment, you wasted no time showing them to the bedroom. Euijoo never stopped shaking the whole time but he was determined.
"Alright, so let's get this started yeah?-" Your hand already reaching for the bottom of your shirt before Euijoo stopped you. Large hands took yours into his, his eyes sparkling at just the sight of you.
"Wait, let me do something first-" The dragon man blushed and tried to keep his composure. It seemed you were down for anything and agreed to let him lead the way. His face brightened up and his dragon tail wagged.
From behind him, you could see his friend staring into him. Almost pleading with him mentally about what he was doing.
But Euijoo didnt bother with Fumas burning gaze. Instead pulling up his bag and digging into it- pouring out the contents onto the bed.
Shiny golden treasures fell from the bag. Necklaces, crowns, bracelets, plates- just about anything he couldve fit in there, he had put in there. Fuma's jaw dropped as he watched Euijoo covering your sheets in the precious metal, jewelry and treasure. It was part of a dragons ritual to present the hoard or collection of goods but you weren't a dragon!
“Don't worry, I'm just gonna be a fucktoy with feedback, do as you please!” Euijoo said, sounding somewhat proud of his display but his face was burning up as his body shook slightly from nerves.
Fuma was ready to drag him out and apologize for this embarrassing display but instead you seemed fascinated. Eyes twinkling as he finished clearing out his bag.
Euijoo stood proudly (nervously) by the mess he made, his face still blushed as he waited for your response. Flattered but unsure of how he wants you to respond, you rested your hand on his shoulder and made him sit on the corner of the bed.
Giggling and kissing his cheeks before landing on his lips. He gasped, parting his lips and allowing you to deepen the connection. Pulling away after a moment to see his flustered reaction.
"Well, this is what you wanted, right?" Euijoo nodded eagerly and never broke eye contact. You took his hands and laid them on your hips, straddling his lap and ran your hands around his body.
“H-How did you know?” Euijoo managed to stutter out, as his body and mind were in some form of a meltdown. Here you were, touching him, inviting him in and even kissing him now!
“Well, from what I know about dragons, showing off gifts and a hoard is part of a mating ritual, right? Plus you just called yourself a fucktoy so I'm guessing that's your goal huh?”
Your fingers brushed against one of his horns, making him jump and accidentally moan a bit. The dragon almost apologized but your lips cut him off swiftly.
Just by the way he kissed you so softly made you smile. He was being so gentle with you but also, it made you curious. Pulling away again to not only see him still wearing his current state of mind on his face, but to feel him clearly getting riled up.
"Euijoo, have you ever been kissed before?" It was clear he had been found out. He was ready to deny and explain it off but his silence gave it away.
Oh he was just so cute! Your hands slid down his body, slipping under his shirt. His bare skin was cold and scaly underneath his clothes. It was fascinating just how much detail your fingertips were able to pick up.
You had only heard about dragons through the grapevine. Some believed they were real and others still convinced they were fully myth.
Despite being a full time dragon believer, this was your first time meeting one, well two! Normally, a humans reaction to meeting what was once thought impossible was to freak out or call the police.
But not you. Not only did this dragon man give off huge adorable loser vibes which was already cute to you; You were what they called a certified monster fucker. Only in theory though as you never had actually met a non human before.
Still- your treasure chest full of monster dildos and sleeves was all the evidence you needed for your dirty little secret.
So when you wandered into a man who's appearance screamed dragon along with his otherworldly aura, you had to take the chance. Like a moth to a flame, you wasted no time chasing your prize(s).
As you lead the kiss that quickly became heated, you let your body do more of the talking. Wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers into his hair. Grinding your hips into his already hardening cock.
Who knew just a little making out would rile him up so badly? He either had sensitive or virgin written all over him. Maybe there was a small part of you that found the idea of a human like you overpowering a cute dragon in bed super exciting. Corrupting his fantasy and frail understanding of what he was capable of.
Breaking up the kiss, you removed your shirt and pants, leaving you in your underwear before him. Doing a little 360 spin to show him your entire body, you took his hands and laid them on your hips. Letting them sit on your squishy flesh for a moment before trailing one up to your breast and let the other explore your thighs and ass.
Euijoo's face was completely red and he sounded like his breath wanted to stop coming out. That and the tiny puffs of smoke seeping from his mouth showed his emotions were heightened in a way he couldn't understand just yet.
“Do you like how this feels, my body? Are you ready to see it all?”
He nodded eagerly, making his first move by pulling you closer by the hips and tugging at your underwear and burying his face in your belly. His actions reminded you of a desperate puppy, especially as his nose was in your stomach and he was looking up at you with pleading eyes.
Before you could properly remove either, Euijoo's nails had elongated into claws and shred away the thin pieces of fabric. Leaving you completely bare and naked.
Your body was so gorgeous to him, so alluring and sexy. Just looking at you would be enough to make him lose his cool. Not like he had much to begin with.
“Hey, if I'm going to be naked, you've gotta join me-” You teased as you started to pull away at Euijoos clothing.
He was so excited and turned on, he clearly forgot Fuma was also in the room. Honestly, Fuma would be okay with that as long as Euijoo didnt mess this up.
He had seen and slept with his fair share of women before so he was doing okay. That was until you were stripped completely naked and bent down to help his friend undress, flashing your glistening pussy directly in his face.
Fuma could compose himself to remain still but the rush of pheromones and your scent of arousal was getting to him already. Making him cross his legs to stop himself for having an obvious boner at a time like this.
Once Euijoo was naked his worries faded away. He was here, he could do this! At least he thought so until you pushed his legs open and got on your knees.
His half dragon state was also stunning. Horns sticking out of his hair, silky skin bedazzled in patches of shiny and colorful scales leading to a thick tail and his wonderful dragon cock on full display. Large, scaly and ribbed along the top down to the very base.
Your stomach stirred in excitement. Youve had plently of practice, you could take him with a little prep. But first, you had to get a little taste of dragon.
Taking his tip into your mouth without warning and making him yelp, a tiny spurt of fire following along with it.
You could save your cooing for later, for now, you were going to have a little fun. Swirling your tongue around him and sinking him down your throat to see how far you could get. It took a little gagging but you were able to get his entire dick in.
Slowly pulling off before repeating the process, and earning a low moan from Euijoo. An unrestrained response to a pleasure hes never felt before. He couldn't tell if his body was heating up due to pleasure or embarrassment.
Neither mattered to you. Loosening your jaw before taking him back into your mouth at a quicker pace, using your hand to substitute when you werent taking him entirely in.
It had been less than a minute before Euijoo was panting like crazy, twitching and fumbling around odd sentences. He was trying to tell you that he felt something weird- It was both pleasurable but concerning because he felt like he was about to drop. His words didn't make it out in time before his body reacted and came.
Your only proper warning was the twitching of his cock in your mouth before the thick salty fluid filled up your mouth. Leaking out of your mouth and down your throat before you could comprehend fully what had happened.
Apologetic and embarrassed, Euijoo pulled out fully and started to speak clearly. “Oh my god I'm so sorry Y/n! I'm sorry I didn't think that would happen so quickly! Oh no I fucked up again ah, I'm sorry-”
You werent mad, only surprised by how fast and how much had come out. Coughing to clear out your throat so you could speak.
Fuma was honestly speechless. There was nothing he could say or do to remedy the situation. Maybe prepare romcoms and liquor back at home for when Euijoo sobbed about this failure too.
To the distraught dragons surprise, you waved off his apology as you caught your breath. “I'm not mad! You don't need to apologize, accidents happen. I assumed that would considering how new you were to this.”
“Wait, so you're not rejecting me now?”
“No? Plus, dragon cum tasted way better than I expected so no hard feelings times two.” You said in joking manner before changing the subject. Looking up, you could still see his dick was plenty hard. Dragging your finger up it's length and making him sigh.
“Looks like you still got some left in you. Are you ready for the main event?” You spoke in a low and sultry voice, standing up and trailing your hand up his body as you went.
“Uh, I uh-” Unknowing what to do, Euijoo looked to Fuma to help, who only gestured towards you with a “Don't look at me- And don't fuck this up!” expression.
Euijoo gave you a nod, not trusting his voice to reply in dirty talk.
Although it wasn't the most ideal, you knew he would probably enjoy this more if the treasure was still on the bed. Moving some of the more dangerous and fragile pieces aside before climbing onto the bed on all fours. Not meaning to, but facing Fuma, who was both watching attentively and absentmindedly. Once in position, you used one hand to spread your ass to invite him into you.
“Go on, it might be a little tight at first but I'll manage.” You were bursting with eagerness. This had to be a dream come true for you both.
But of course, Euijoo was overthinking something else. Your hole looked… a little small? There was no way he was fitting into your pussy when it didn't even look the size of his pinky.
His gaze found Fuma, who just gave him a thumbs up before he turned his attention back to you. Noting the eager look that Euijoo couldn't see as you were ready for this. Almost drooling in anticipation for this moment. He had to avert his eyes from you.
From behind, Euijoo took a deep breath before just following his instincts. He knew what to do, he shouldn't overthink this. Even if he messed up here, he never had to see you again if all went to hell.
Running a finger down your wet folds, he spread your lips to get a better view. Summoning all the confidence he could, he lined his tip along with your hole before letting his body do the rest and push in slowly.
Instantly the stretch was more than you expected, but along with the discomfort was the sweet pleasure as he pushed in further. Moving painfully slowly and allowing you to adjust as he moved. You expected the slight pain, it was always there until it melted away after you were soaked enough.
The texture of the ridges and ribs on his cock had your legs shaking so fast. “Are you alright Y/n? You're shaking.”
“Y-yes fuck, god just fuck me already!”
He wasn't completely assured but he couldn't stay still forever. Pulling his hips out before driving them back inside. Fully inserted and causing a slight bulge in your stomach.
Places you didnt even know could feel this level of pleasure were tingling as he picked up the pace, finding a steady rhythm to pull in and out to. Little cries and pleas of pleasure for more encouraged him to keep going.
His confidence grew, reaching over to grip your hips and pull you back slightly with every thrust. Lowering himself to kiss along your back as he plowed into you.
Your orgasm came quickly, not as fast as him previously. But just as you continued from before, so did he. Driving your mind up the wall once again very quickly.
Euijoo had to admit, it felt amazing to get you to cum, quite fast even. His pride and confidence fully restored as you begged him to fuck you harder and keep going.
It wasn't long before he had you cock drunk. There was no need to use words as your body did all the speaking for you. Nipples hard from arousal and being teased, tongue hanging out lazily and your eyes dazed but content. Not to mention the fluids from your pussy squirting and soaking with every thrust.
The whole time you were lost in the pleasure, you had Euijoo on your mind but Fuma in your sights. It was obvious he was happy and proud for his friend but he looked lonely in your eyes. And horny.
After another orgasm shook you, you took a pause. Pressing your back against Euijoos chest, who instantly ran his hands down to your clit and played with your breast as you spoke to him. Keeping your mind and body on a pleasure trip even with his little movement. Even Fuma was impressed that he knew how to do that.
His cold scales contrasted your hot skin and egged his teasing on further as you tried to speak with him buried inside you. Your hand running into his hair to run your fingers along his horns, an obvious sensitive spot as he didn't even hide his shiver.
For once, Fuma was the one let in the dark as you whispered something to Euijoo through breathy moans. He quickly agreed, getting in a cheeky bite at your neck before letting you back down.
Letting your front lay down on the bed, you looked at Fuma with needy eyes. Gesturing him forward with your hand.
Confused, but still being the man(dragon) he was, he came forward. “Is something wrong Y/n? You're not stuck, right?’
He spoke so gently and full of concern. You almost wanted to make up some excuse to keep him talking but that could wait. Especially not as you were eye to eye with his raging boner.
“No, no issue.” You said bluntly as you reached for his pants. Digging your fingers into his boxers and tugging to pull them down.
“Wait what are you doing? This isn't about me-?”
“Oh shut it. It wouldn't be nice to let you watch us fuck and not get in on it.” You were blunt as you pulled him closer.
Fuma didn't want to encroach on a moment that wasn't his. This was about Euijoo and him finally having his chance. He was going to ask him if he was okay with it, but seeing the happy look on his face as he kneaded your ass cheeks told him it didn't seem he minded.
Rejecting the invite could be rude, so he nodded. That and seeing you getting roughly fucked and staring at him the whole time had admittedly turned him on. Some relief could be nice.
Within seconds, you had his pants off, nearly getting spooked by his silvery girthy cock popping out. Oh yeah, he was definitely trying to play it cool with how hard he was in reality. Precum was already seeping out from his tip and adding to the shimmery appearance. Or maybe dragon cum just was sparkly?
You didn't dwell on it before taking him into your mouth like you had done with Euijoo before. Getting a similar hiss of pleasure as you started to suck him off.
Once you had found your rhythm with your mouth it was quickly disregarded. Euijoo took the lead, moving at an animalistic pace to pick up where you left off.
The force pushing your body back and forth- From choking on Fuma to having Euijoo deeper into your walls. A consistent cycle of head turning sensations that only was making you lose yourself.
Tears of overwhelming euphoria as well as the gagging started to spring from your eyes. This was your mosterfucker dream come true! Being used like a cocksleeve for hot dragon men? Sign you up all day, any day!
It was hard to stay focused on the task at hand. Not that you needed to be engulfed in the moment, they were doing what they pleased and you wouldn't complain. Especially not when they were making you feel this amazing.
Your body was tingling, both numb and burning alive as you peaked your orgasm over and over again. Surprisingly but also not, dragons could go for a long time and had a lot to unload.
And you were more than willing to let them use you to take it all in. It felt like a rough fucked bliss you had fallen into as you were filled up and swallowed as much dragon cum as you could take.
Fuma was experienced enough to always know when he was about to snap and warned you. Petting your cheeks and hair and wiping your pretty tears before using your mouth once again.
Euijoo was clearly the novice of the two but that didn't mean he was any less intoxicating. If anything, his lack of experience made every time he came a surprise to you both. And for each time he did, he laid a harsh bite somewhere along your skin. Like keeping a tally for himself.
The amount of cum they let out was also insane. Not only did your body feel slightly heavier from the amount, it coated your sheets past the treasure pile and left them white and sparkly. Maybe the stains wouldn't be so bad.
Even as you wanted this dream come true to last forever, your body was starting to get overstimulated. Quaking with every thrust and your throat and jaw aching all the same. Your legs were on the verge of collapse.
With how this night had been going, it shouldn't be a surprise they weren't going to stop suddenly.
Euijoo picked up one of your legs, changing the angle of which he was driving his dragon cock into you and wrapped his scaly tail around your thigh to hold it up. His hands, claws protruding out, held onto your hips. Clearly, he was giving it his all to end this.
Fuma held onto your hair to keep you upright. Slowing his pace to a painful crawl. Savoring every twitch, suck and swirl of your tongue on his cock. Tracing the ridges and scales that you could feel along his tip.
It didn't take much before your orgasm tore through you once again, sending stars into your vision and taking the strength out of your body.
Although you nearly collapsed, supported up by Euijoos arms, your entire body shook as you came. A stream of squirt spraying out as the cherry on top. A muffled squeal of pleasure ripped through your exhausted throat.
The others weren't far behind. Fuma, nicely pulled out this time. Decorating your face and chest with his cum. Quite the lovely sight on your fucked out face.
Euijoo held you still as he rutted into your tired pussy. Pushing in as far as he could go and breaking out into a mix of a whimper and a moan, sounding somewhat like your name before marking your skin once again.
He shook wildly as his cock twitched. Dumping whatever cum he had left in him into your caved out hole. A perfect space for him to remain as he, in his dragon heart, hoped to breed you.
Exhausted and messy, there was no strength left in your body. Even if you wanted to move, there was no way you could. Thankfully, Euijoo had laid you down, mostly on his chest and hugged you tightly.
In your haze, you hadn't even realized Fuma left and returned with some paper towels to clean you up and gave you some water.
“Uh, sorry about the mess. We'll pay for anything we can't clean.”
It was very kind of him but you wouldn't mind. Instead extending your weak hand and beckoning him to bed with you both.
“Don't worry bout it. Come cuddle.”
Fuma nearly laughed but agreed. No one had the energy to argue. Draping an arm over your side, he was almost immediately asleep.
As you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, you felt the unmistakable kisses of Euijoos lips against your skin. “Thank you Y/n…”
A smile came to your lips as you acknowledged his words. Thanking them in their own way too. Even if they were gone in the morning, you wouldn't regret this night for as long as you lived your human life.
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kingsmoot · 10 hours ago
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ok i'm not sure if people aren't reading the post or if i wasn't being clear but the tags on this are driving me up the wall so let me break it down another way
i'm not saying that joff is a sweet delicate cherub who has never done anything wrong. this would be stupid and in direct opposition to the text.
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agot, chapter 7, arya i
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agot; chapter 9, tyrion i
we are told and shown as soon as joff is introduced that he's a git. he's haughty and proud and mean. he delights in violence and in cruelty. he is truly a little shit.
we are also shown that physical violence is a staple of the lannister household, and even the crown prince of the realm gets beaten:
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agot; chapter 9, tyrion i
i could wheel this post around and talk about how normalized physical violence is in the lann fam:
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acok; chapter 3, tyrion i
but i won't.
the introductory chapters of agot are very clear on who and what joffrey is. where tommen and myrcella are sweet babes, joff is a raging asshole. he is a brat prince. it's archetypal. he's a dick.
so that's what i'm not saying. i'm not saying that joff is a good sweet boy who has been lead astray by the conspirators who surround him. i am not cersei lannister.
what i am saying is that joffrey baratheon is a beaten and neglected little boy whose behaviors derive from the abuse of his parents (all 3), his grandfather, his uncle, and everyone at court who has failed at every step of the way throughout the whole of his very short life to care for him in the way that adults are responsible to care for children.
children need boundaries, something the crown prince of the realm was never given. it would be sort of silly i think to start raving about how child rearing in westeros could stand to be improved somewhat, so i'll focus on how the utter failure of the adults around joffrey to control his behavior is pointed out in the text. by characters who are living under the consequences of his brutality and should by rights have less perspective on this than you, person in the real world reading this at a distance.
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agot; chapter 69, tyrion ix
tywin blames joffrey's ineffectual council for not guiding him sufficiently as he transitions from bratprince to boyking. tywin. not the most reasonable of guys expected to give out the benefit of the doubt to those who deserve it. and yet he is the one to tell tyrion explicitly that he blames the council for not curtailing the boyking's tyranny.
as a supplement, here's link to a post by @greenbloods and myself about joff's "impulsive" decision to kill ned after being counseled to let him take the black being littlefinger's idea: https://www.tumblr.com/kingsmoot/775141938411225088/probably-a-dumb-question-but-is-it-confirmed-in
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acok; chapter 2, sansa i
even sansa, an eleven year old girl who is being beaten bloody on a daily basis after having her father murdered in front of her, points out to us that joffrey's kingsguard dole out the punishment he asigns them to dole out without stopping for a moment to think whether it is wrong or just or acceptable to backhand a little girl in a lobstered steel glove while you are a 30 year old superpro olympic athlete killing machine. yes, this is one of very many examples where sansa becomes disillusioned with the concept of chivalry and knighthood and defense of the weak. but it is also an instance where grown adult men with extreme physical power let a 13 year old boy command them to beat on an 11 year old girl. joffrey is their king, yes, and it is not their position to question him, yes. but is it unreasonable for the audience (us!) to conclude that it is bugfuck insane for this group of people to bow to the whims of a despotic pre-teen? no. it is not unreasonable, it is expected.
to provide a canon counter to this behavior from sers meryn, boros, oakheart, preston, and mandon, i'll ask you if you feel that ser barriston selmy, the recently dismissed and disgraced ex-commander of the kingsguard, would have followed these same orders.
i also think sweetrobin is a clear textual parallel to joffrey as another despotic boyking figure. joffrey is said by the lords who criticize him to be indulged too greatly by his mother. robert wants to send him away to foster as he was sent to the eyrie with ned, but cersei will not allow it. cersei is framed as the problem for being lax with joffrey and letting him do whatever he wants. and while cersei does see joffrey as beyond reproach, her perfect golden boy, i think the far greater problem is robert beating joffrey so badly cersei and stannis thought he'd killed him. or tyrion smacking him when he mouths off. or robert's open disdain of him that joffrey clearly feels very strongly even though robert acts like it's a secret.
to in-world observers, joff and sweetrobin are products of the same treatment at the hands of hovering, overindulgent, manchurian candidate mothers. but in reality, joffrey is both beaten and neglected, while sweetrobin is coddled. joffrey's behavior is a reflection of the violence of his household (from both the lannisters AND from robert) and an indulgence of the adults around him who have real physical power and weild it on behalf of a little boy's violent whims.
i have a greater problem, actually, with the responses to this post that claim joffrey is a monster (he is a child) or that there is something inherently rotten/wrong with him that maybe the abuse brought out, but he was just a baaaad apple to begin with, but i'm running out of images so i'll talk about that in a reblog.
joff is literally 13. how is this lost on the vast majority of asoiaf's audience. have you ever met a 13 year old? he's a 13 year old boy who was beaten and neglected. the fact that a traumatized child has the "power" to doll out life and death sentences is in fact a structural issue. the fact that a bunch of 30+ year old professional body guard attack dogs nod along and happily beat the living shit out of the 11 year old girl joff is engaged to is very pointedly not joff's fault. would you, tumblr user reading this, beat the shit out of a child if another child told you to? probably not, right? that would be fucking insane, right? you would feel that it was your responsibility to NOT beat the shit out of a child no matter what position the other child telling you to do so had above you, right? you know that the smallfolk of king's landing, who were literally being shot at and murdered by joff with his automatic crossbow, also said that it was the adults on the counsel's responsibility to reign in the boyking on the throne? ok well they are imaginary people being shot with an imaginary crossbow and you as the real flesh and blood audience have so much more perspective on this situation than them. OK, GOOD TALK.
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