#date with golden child

[cringelordofchaos]

Actually I have just now decided I really like Luke (I just gave him mommy issues ☠️ and it worked)

[blood-orange-juice]

Ok, so I've been listening to Childe's battle theme and just realised it's a tango

[im2tired4usernames]

Ugh I was excited for today until I found out I'd have to spend it with people that actively make me hate being alive hate the future and drain me off all energy physically mentally spiritually like a vampire I can't stand to be around her she is the definition of stupidity and even then that's generous as fuck this bitch has filled her brain with so much garbage I watch her brain cells die at alarming rates every single time she uses her vocal cords her giggles make me want to jam a sewing needle into my ear repeatedly so I can never have to hear it again its a friendly reminder that my parents decisions this time my dad's constantly makes me want to die

[hecula-propaganda]

Hector becoming possessive of Dracula 😏 Dracula starts to be nice to Isaac, and Hector doesn't like it 😏

Me warping Hector OOC to fit in my issues 👍

~

“When I think you couldn’t improve more, you keep surprising me. This wyvern will be perfect for your next expedition. Well done, Hector.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Hector responds with a polite bow of the head, followed by his creation screeching in delight. An uncomfortable feeling of dissatisfaction gnaws at him: it has become too easy to please his Lord, to the point that even his compliments feel like courtesy. He misses the times where the smallest praise would warm him up from the inside.

Well, he figures, he has grown past the role of a simple Devil Forgemaster.

After reserving him a tiny smile, Lord Dracula stops to scrutinize Isaac’s creation, a tall knight with a frayed armor and a thin blade clutched in its arms. Even from the corner of the eye, Hector can sense Isaac tensing, bracing himself for yet another disappointment.

“Bold design. Were you inspired by the tales from the East?” Lord Dracula passes a finger on the half-moon stapled on the Devil’s helmet. “Impressive, Isaac. Keep going.”

Both Isaac and Hector breathe a sigh of relief. Isaac has been insufferable, the past few days, always seeking a pretense to argue, when it’s obvious what is the one thing that is eating at him. Both Isaac and Lord Dracula call him a spoiled brat, but only one of them utters it with endearment.

And then he does it.

He places his hand on Isaac’s cheek.

Lord Dracula has never done that, before.

Isaac lights up like a match, and Hector doesn’t need to have a keen vampire hearing to know that his heart is about to burst out of his chest. He knows that sensation all too well.

But Lord Dracula has never done that to Isaac before.

Hector smooths his face in a mask of professionality, before the Lord can notice him. He should be happy for Isaac. He is happy that he has finally managed to please their Lord.

However…

“My Lord. Why did you touch Isaac?”

Lord Dracula’s stare pierces through Hector. A lesser man would keel over under the pressure. Thankfully, Hector is not a lesser man, but even he resists the urge to cover his mouth at the words that tumbled out of it.

This is not the kind of cheekiness that the Lord finds endearing. For the very first time, he fears that Lord Dracula will push him off of his lap.

After a long, uncomfortable silence that makes Hector’s skin prickle, Lord Dracula asks: “Whatever do you mean, precious?”

He cannot have forgotten. Only Lord Dracula can make Hector feel like he has a leash on his neck, ready to be led somewhere, after a few words. Nevertheless, he presses on: “Today… you stroked his cheek.”

As if to mock him, Lord Dracula repeats the same, identical gesture on Hector. Unlike with Isaac, it’s familiar to him: when his Lord’s hand is not on him, Hector feels the void, like he’s missing a piece. Lord Dracula can’t get enough of touching Hector, and Hector can’t get enough of the chill of his Lord’s skin, the closeness forbidden to everyone else but him. He closes his eyes, surrendering to the goosebumps.

“And what of it? Can’t I compliment your friend for a job well done?” He chuckles. “That would be cruel.”

��Yes… yes, of course, my Lord. But not… not like that.”

Hector bites his lip in frustration. How undignified he’s sounding to his own Lord. He doesn’t even know why he’s insisting. Lord Dracula is free to do however he wishes. If he… if he wants Isaac… Hector has no right to object.

Does he?

“Hmm.” Lord Dracula brushes Hector’s hair away, to whisper in his ear: “Hector, dear, don’t tell me that you are jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” retorts Hector a second too quickly. No, he is not jealous. Jealousy implies insecurity.

“Then what is this fit about? Such childish behavior is unbecoming of you, after all I did for you. Do you think I’ve been lying to you?”

“No, I would never think that, my Lord!”

“Then why do you feel so threatened?” With his back straightened and a serious glare, Lord Dracula doesn’t sound amused anymore. Hector’s heart drops. “I’m disappointed, Hector. I didn’t teach you to be this evasive. What is it that you want?”

It has been ages since Hector last hoped that the ground would swallow him. He’s making a fool of himself, he’s disappointing his Lord, it shouldn’t happen!

Lord Dracula is right. He should stop acting like a whiny child. He should stop bowing his head and muttering like he’s ashamed of living. That is not what he wants from him, and it’s not what he is. Lord Dracula taught him that he has worth, and Hector believes him.

So he looks into the vampire’s crimson eyes, and admits: “I want you to touch me like that, and only me.”

“I see.” Lord Dracula smiles a genial smile, and just like that, Hector knows that he has been led where he wanted. “Now, why in the world should I, the Lord of this castle, bend down to my General’s whims?”

But Hector is not a dog.

“You already do, my Lord,” he dares.

Lord Dracula’s smile vanishes, and Hectors knows that he’s dead.

There are worse ways to die than reminding your own Lord of his transgressions, however.

“Insolent, arrogant brat…” he hisses, and yet, he pushes Hector’s closer to his chest, hand splayed on his back to trap him. He can’t help but smiling against Lord Dracula’s cravat.

“Yes, your brat. My Lord,” he adds, perhaps without the due respect, but surely he’ll be forgiven. “That’s what you say, isn’t it? I’m yours. I’m only yours. And I’m the only one who makes you feel alive.”

He’s starting to sound like Lord Dracula to his own ears. He wants to believe that it’s something to be proud of. Hector looks up to the vampire, challenging him to deny his words, his own words that the Lord always murmurs in the middle of ecstasy, when the world melts away and only they matter to each other.

He is the one who always makes Lord Dracula proud. He is the one who comforted him when Lady Lisa has been executed. He’s the one who is brave enough to push back, instead of quietly, mindlessly obeying.

No one else understands what we have.

“Yes, you’re the only one who…” Lord Dracula sighs, hiding the words that Hector can hear just fine, that make his heart flutter, and he bows to kiss him at last, the only one who Lord Dracula would ever kiss and hold like a missing part of him.

“Oh, Hector, you’re growing up so fast…”

[seafoamplant]

If I could impart one thing on the tumblr media discourse, it would be the idea of framing. Sometimes characters are bad on purpose. Sometimes they're bad on accident. Both instances say something about the story

[steence]

i really wanted to give him a wallet anf have it be one of those cringey fnaf wallets but then i realized. i cant draw wallet.

The idea of William Afton genuinely loving his children is so much more interesting to me than the alternative, not just because it's more tragic and makes his motivations make more sense, but also because it's fucking hilarious.

You are about to be obliterated from this Earth by a six-foot-something zombie rabbit, and your last moments are spent terrified and deeply confused as he shows you pictures of his kids in a blood-stained wallet: a clearly haunted bear costume, a limitlessly unnerving chrome clown doll, and what looks like Grimace's corpse left to shrivel in the sun.

[confettiibunny]

ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ!ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ʜᴄs ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

Nanami editors on TikTok are cooking a little too hard and now they got me all soppy about him ☹️

🎀 Husband!Nanami who’s manages to quell every single one of your outbursts without letting the situation scale into an argument. His way of approaching any relationship issues is just so inexplicably healthy, unlike anything you’ve experienced before. Whether you’re panicking, lashing out, or even crying he is present. Anything you have to say tumbles out of your mouth and when you’re done, his arms do all the talking as he tugs you close, rocking you back and forth in a soothing motion. All your emotions fizz away and you’re left a mushy mess in his arms, sniffling and nodding your head as he finally starts to talk you into calming down.

🌼 Husband!Nanami who is a big believer in spoiling you. Your hair is always glossy, your skin seems to glow from within, and your nails and clothes are nothing short but impeccable. But he also believes in spoiling you rotten with love. He has to hold you when it’s just you two alone, sitting you in his lap as his hands keep a reassuring grasp on your hips. And as you cling your arms around his neck and press your nose against his pulse, the world is quiet and peaceful and you feel like you’re falling in love all over again.

🎀 Husband!Nanami who is a sucker for feeling you scratch his back. It sounds a little strange but after a stressful day of work, all he wants is to strip down and flop onto the bed, knowing that you’ll always appear and give him what he wants. You insist on doing this anyways, settling your body on his lower back and raking your freshly manicured nails down his back to elicit rewarding little sounds from him. Low groans, gentle sighs, and cooes of “love you, baby” leave his lips and make their way to your ears, making you feel all fuzzy inside.

🌼 Husband!Nanami who lets you do makeup on him during his days off. Perched in his lap with him back against the headboard, you carefully curl his lashes before applying an even coat of mascara to his stubborn lashes. It’s not much makeup but it honestly suits him well; a cushion foundation, some concealer for his under eyes, and cheek and lip tint, and mascara. The fact your husband was so comfortable within his own skin and masculinity that you could doll him up so cutely made you giggle like a fool. And once you finish the everyday look, he’s so quick to ask about all the products and techniques you used with genuine care for what you have to say.

🎀 Husband!Nanami who slowly but surely becomes a biter. It all started when you tried to bite his cheeks while cuddling, only to pout when you nearly hit into his cheekbones. Of course he had to return to favor and nibbled on the squish of your cheeks, making you burst into laughter and squeals. From then on he’s expanded, leaving purplish love bites upon your chest and when you’re both feeling a little cheeky, on your collarbone and neck as well. It makes him flush with a little shame when he thinks about it, but the silent display of possessive affection never fails to leave him grinning like a child when he’s alone.

🌼 Husband!Nanami who has a photo of you everywhere and makes it known to anyone asking that yes, that lovely lady is his wife. His lock screen is a snapshot of your hands after a spa nail, pretty pink nails and a golden band that is your wedding ring. There's a small pic of you in his wallet from the times you were just starting to date, caught in a frenzied laughter after being told a joke. Ooh, and if anyone asks who you are after seeing such photos of you, he’ll say with all his chest “that’s my wife in these photos. I love her very much,” all while having a rare smile in public on his face.

🎀 Husband!Nanami who loves you like there’s no tomorrow. Who holds your hand everywhere outside and watches over you with critical eyes, glaring at anyone who even remotely gives you a strange look. He’s a man that drags out every kiss, a hand on your neck as he gently groans into your mouth. Who hugs you so tightly you feel like you’re about to burst at the seams, thick and burly forearms encircling your waist as you snuggle against his chest. This is where you belong, the both of you: nestled in each other in a heart-to-heart embrace.

[sammydem0n64]

I've also been thinking about Rinoll a lot recently and like. Guys she. She kinda wins in the end? SPECIFICALLY in regards to her relationship with Chocip. She gets what she wants in the end with NO consequence. Dude.

[maopll]

thinking about husbands who have a habit of running their fingers over your wedding rings.

whenever he would be working, his eyes would snatch glances at the golden band around his finger, symbolising your marriage and oath to live together forever and grow old together.

he would sometimes go into deep thought, remembering the day when you two finally exchanged vows while he kisses the band and holds it close to his chest.

His heart would giddy up at the thought of a spouse waiting for him at his home and sometimes he would even quiver at the thought of you.

Thinking about how there would be a stark change in his personality because now he can't keep you waiting for too long because he misses you too much

imagine how he celebrates a small "monthsary" with you by gifting you your favourite flowers or anything that you ever mentioned to him about how you wanted to get.

He would wake up every morning with you right beside him and he just can't help but feel a warmth surge up inside his heart, a shade of pink evidently dusting his kissable cheeks.

thinking about how he shares basically everything of his with you. starting from his clothes to even his shoes, pens, you name it. also how he would notice you feeling cold when you two would be out for date nights and how he would remove his coat and drape it over you shoulder, his scent, the familiar scent of that one cologne he always wears, wafts through the air and fills your senses.

— WRIOTHESLEY, alhaitham, ZHONGLI, KAEYA, neuvillette, DILUC, ayato, CHILDE, kazuha, GEPARD, Dan heng, DR RATIO, AVENTURINE, vil, MALLEUS, AZUL, MAMMON, DIAVOLO

tagging: @fictoculus @poison-demon @mitsvriii @pianopuppygirl @sleepy-waffle @imhere2dosomething

[brie-annwyl]

“How come Cass gets a pass for killing people but I don’t?”

“Cass didn’t kill anyone Jason, she would never”

“There is MULTIPLE VIDEOS-“

“I will not let you slander her name like this, remember to use rubber bullets tonight on patrol. Cmon Cass.”

Insert that meme of that large dog being carried but it’s Cass and Bruce.

Bruce: Cassandra has done nothing wrong ever in her life

David Cain: she killed a man

Bruce: no she didn't

Cass: I killed a man

Bruce: no you didn't

Bruce, watching a video of Cass killing a man: this is fake.

[honestsycrets]

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it. 

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free. 

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--” 

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.” 

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face. 

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets. 

“She likes it.” 

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.” 

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar. 

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.” 

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.” 

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,” 

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face. 

“As many as will make you happy.” 

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?” 

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for. 

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father. 

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.” 

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."  

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable. 

 Low sperm count his ass. 

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it. 

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.” 

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.” 

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel. 

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them. 

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.” 

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly. 

“Sí, Miggy?” 

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so. 

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that. 

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place. 

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder. 

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.  

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck. 

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day. 

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is. 

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready. 

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall. 

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.” 

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.” 

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.” 

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck. 

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.” 

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest. 

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see. 

“The balcony, then.” 

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?” 

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter. 

“Bend over.” 

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now. 

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.” 

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”  

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth. 

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?” 

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again. 

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back. 

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability. 

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable. 

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach. 

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body. 

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs. 

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days.  “Like… not this.” 

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging. 

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--” 

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?” 

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”  

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe. 

“Are you sure? I know--” 

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.” 

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?” 

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

[lewisvinga]

como no te voy a querer | jude bellingham x alonso! fem! reader

summary; when the princess of the paddock is dating the golden boy of real madrid but she happens to have a grid full of drivers who are very protective of her

fc; rita mota

warnings; cursing i think, suggestive comment

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03 @c-losur3

note; saw fernando at the benrabeu at the semifinals and i had to…. BUT WE’RE GOING INTO THE UCL FINALLLL!!! A POR LA 15😭🤍🤍🤍 pls don’t mind the misspelt bernabéu in one of the tweets lollll

masterlist !

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liked by judebellingham, fernandoalo_official, and others !

yourusername: when in spain….

tagged; judebellingham

fernandoalo_official: siempre tan linda, mija😍 [always so pretty, my daughter]

yourusername: papáaaa🥹🥹

judebellingham: wowwwww

judebellingham: well aren’t you a lovely lady 🥴

yourusername: ur fine too i guess…🙄

yourusername: jk ur very fine 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

maxverstappen1: she’s a child.

yourusername: i’m 20????🤨

charles_leclerc: a child.

username: omg her sign for el clásico 😭what a queen tbh

username: y/n 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

username: jude can u fight? 🤔🤔

carlossainz55: pq estabas en españa sola??🤔 [why were you in spain alone]

yourusername: because i’m spanish and my bf lives here?🤔

fernandoalo_official: you’re with your boyfriend alone???

yourusername: no edu is always there 🙄

camavinga: 🤗🤗

judebellingham: edu😘😘

landonorris: and why are you flirting with someone else when u have a girlfriend ….

yourusername: oh like your bromance w carlos doesn’t exist !

username: nah the drivers comments are always so funny😭😭

yourusername: oh it’s torture, can’t even appreciate my sexy bf in peace 🙄

camavinga: OUR sexy bf😘

username: CAMA OH??😭

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liked by judebellingham, carmenmmundt, and others !

yourusername: i guess you could say i get my cuntiness from my dad xx

tagged; fernandoalo_official, georgerussell63, carmenmmundt, landonorris, judebellingham

location; miami 🌴

username: not her tagging jude on her lips 😭😭

username: me n who ong

fernandoalo_official: i’m cunty or whatever the hell it is you guys say

yourusername: tea 💅

username: THE CHEETAHHH PRINT😍

username: here before simp jude

judebellingham: wow.

judebellingham: just wow.

judebellingham: you are unbelievable 😍😍

yourusername: 💗💗💗💗

landonorris: STAND BACK 🤺🤺🤺

judebellingham: a lot of talking for a man who asked for my jersey🥱🥱🥱

yourusername: he got you there….

landonorris: okay fine… you win this time…

username: the alonsos are so cunty

username: PARTY NANDOOOO

username: i will never get over her n jude sawrry😖😫😖

maxverstappen1: well you better.

username: HUHHH???😀

charles_leclerc: stinky man around y/n, you’ll get over it

yourusername: you guys are sooooo…..

judebellingham: max is just mad abt el clásico score 😬😬

maxverstappen1: damn right.

carlossainz55: only time jude is tolerable 😁

yourusername: not very madridista of u carlos

judebellingham: yeah🙄🙄🙄

carlossainz55: y/n protector first sorry🫡

carmenmmundt: gorgeous gorgeous girl❤️❤️

yourusername: ily🥹

yourusername: also tell george to stop sending jude threats over instagram

georgerussell63: no.

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yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; going back home hungover 😬] [caption 2; morning 💗 judebellingham] [caption 3; date night fit 🤺] [caption 4; mi amor 🤍🤍 judebellingham]

judebellingham wow😍😍😍😍

judebellingham u single ??????

yourusername yeah:/// my bf has another bf:///

judebellingham HES MY BFF!!!!😖😖

yourusername cus why did cama see u in the showers almost naked after signing a new contract…..🤨🤨

judebellingham like you haven’t seen less🙄🙄

yourusername whyd u say that my dad saw and now’s he’s questioning me😭

yourusername he said why aren’t u preparing for the match 🙄

judebellingham ur dad is scary

judebellingham tell him the match is in 7 hours i still have chill time 🙄🙄

judebellingham DONT mention the rolling eyes emoji he is scary enough

yourusername fernando alonso??? scary??? a menace maybe,,,,🤣

yourusername good luck my love 💗 take it easy on the knee though!

judebellingham i’ll try, it’ll be a tough match:/

yourusername papa alonso said good luck too

judebellingham tell him i said tyvm😁😁😁

georgerussell63 why is he shirtless 🤨

yourusername you’re one to talk…

maxverstappen1 🤮🤮

yourusername ahhhh u madddddddd

yourusername la liga champion😛😛

maxverstappen1 i have 3 wdcs🙄🙄

yourusername and yet, real madrid won la liga!

maxverstappen1 tap in merchant 😒😒😒

yourusername ……

yourusername he scored a banger at el clasico i wouldn’t speak if i were u

maxverstappen1 😒😒😒😒

lewishamilton u should’ve been at the met 🙄

yourusername gf duties calls😞

charles_leclerc …..

charles_leclerc why is he around u naked🤔

yourusername bc he’s my bf????🤨

charles_leclerc why

yourusername bc i love him??

charles_leclerc but why

yourusername bye charles 🙄🙄🙄

charles_leclerc WHYYY

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liked by judebellingham, vinijr, and others !

yourusername: como no te voy a querer?🤍🤍 [how am i not going to love you?] congratulations on making it to the final, mi amor, te quiero mucho🤍🤍 [my love, i love you so much] and so so proud of you and the squad 🫶🫶

tagged; judebellingham, vinijr, lukamodric10

judebellingham: my lucky charm

judebellingham: i love you so much

judebellingham: te quiero 😍

yourusername: when he speaks spanish for you🥴🥴🥴

fernandoalo_official: so that’s why i can hear y/n giggling…

username: jude speaking in spanish for y/n, this is so sick

username: ME AND WHO😩😩

username: thank u y/n for blessing us w jude 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

username: can’t believe joselu scored a brace 😭

username: we gonna get a bellingol soon #trust

carlossainz55: A POR LA 15😍😍 hala madrid🤍

yourusername: now u wanna act fine w jude 🙄

carlossainz55: WHO CARES WE’RE IN THE FINAL!!!

maxverstappen1: I CARE!!! heja bvb or however it goes!!🙄🙄

oscarpiastri: you gotta respect max for keeping up the hater act icl

judebellingham: he sure hates a lot for someone who lost his win streak

maxverstappen1: hey watch it…

carlossainz55: can we get back to the fact real madrid is in the ucl final???🤍🎉🎉

judebellingham: yes😁

vinijr: Y/NNNNNNN HALA MADRIDDDDDD

yourusername: HALA MADRID NUESTO MOTM !!! [our motm/man of the match]

fernandoalo_official: good game, jude👍

judebellingham: omg thank you so much, sir! it means a lot!😊

camavinga: who are you and what did you to do my jude

aurelientchm: that’s not jude…🤣

rodrygogoes: ‘😊’

yourusername: well, he’s MY jude and he’s just scared of my dad🙄🙄

charles_leclerc: good.

landonorris: good.

lewishamilton: good.

maxverstappen1: good.

georgerussell63: good.

alex_albon: good.

judebellingham: oh! 😀

yourusername: don’t mind them🙄

[pr1cesgirl2]

Older!bf price headcannons

•Olderbf! Price who has gained weight since he left the military and is insecure about it. But you on the other hand love to worship his chubby body, so when you’re laying together you always lay on his man-boobs and softly caress the rolls of his stomach. John always gets very flustered by these acts.

•Olderbf! Price who comes home late from his new job to a very pouty girlfriend, he chuckles at your state as he tries to cuddle up in bed with you, repeating sorry over and over again until you’re both fully cuddled in bed

•Olderbf! Price who admires you anytime you do anything, like when you’re cooking and washing dishes when the golden sun shines through the white curtains, illuminating your hair and face or when you’re asleep in bed and the moon light is shining on your sleeping face, or when you’re holding your child in your arms or breastfeeding them.

•Olderbf! Price who - any chance he gets will do something nice with you. Wether it be going on a date to a restaurant or, going to the movies or, simply just going on a walk in a field together, he would gladly do that.

•Olderbf! Price who will listen and give advice whenever you feel down. Wether it be, you being overwhelmed or, the kids are giving you a hard time or, if your job is burning you out.

•Olderbf! Price who wouldnt pick anyone else to be the mother of his children. The way you care and can always make them calm is admirable, the way on a night when hes worked a very long shift you would get up and calm the kids down doing whatever it takes and taking your time with it.

•Olderbf! Price who, whenever you’re alone will start becoming quite sexual around you, making you all flustered. His eyes roaming you as you wear your tiny pyjamas with an apron on that points out your ass and breasts while making him breakfast makes his hard-on grow. Him, getting up and walking over to you, you’re hips swaying from the sound on the radio before gasping at him groping your cheeks.

•Olderbf! Price who will grope your ass and tits whenever he can, even when your breasts are sensitive just after a feeding. He loves hearing you whimper that you’re sensitive. His head buried between them before taking your large, sensitive and pulsin nipple into his mouth, lapping at it and sucking at it while grabbing the other one.

•Olderbf! Price who loves big booty and big tittied bitches, so basically just you. So when you send him a photo hes always drawn to the ones of you squeezing your tits or showing your ass out of your new little dress you bought

•Olderbf! Price who will lick at your needy pussy for hours, just wanting you to squirt all over his face, occasionally leaving hickeys on your thighs. Then raising his head he goes back up to your plush lips as he kisses you softly, one hand on your neck, the other shoving two fingers in your pussy

•Olderbf! Price who always praises you, when you squirt atleast 3 times. “Good girl” “Thats it love” “Fuck, you love me touching your little pussy, hm?” “This pussy belongs to me”. But occasionally you’re hit with some degrading “Such a slut, wanting more hm?” “Dont make a noise, brat”

•Olderbf! Price who when he first shoves it in you, lets out a groan and leans down to your ear whispering, “i want to get you pregnant again, you being all round and swollen and wanting to get fucked even more is what i like. And you’re tits becoming all sensitive and swollen just how i like them” he would groan into your ear. But he stayed there listening to your soft moans of approval.

•Olderbf! Price who when he starts pounding into your lets out another groan, but of discomfort this time and he stops, you look up at him and then down at his leg and realise hes got a cramp, you chuckle and pull yourself out of him, laying him down on the bed till the cramp goes away

•Olderbf! Price who when the cramp goes away, gives you the best aftercare, he runs you a bath and helps you wash all the sweat off of you and your hair. And after he helps you into bed, you both being still naked he buries his head into your breasts, falling asleep

[hylorien]

These are my Drow Durge twins! Forgive my handwriting:

SHOW ME YOUR TAV!

Reblog this with a screen shot or fan art of your favorite/current BG3 Tav! I wanna meet em all! I'll comment on every one I see 😍 with compliments.

I feel like in fandom, often characters created by fantastic artists get the most attention. This makes very obvious sense 😅 but I wanna hype you ALL up and not everyone's an artist, (tho if you are please share here too! I wanna engage with everyone, no discrimination, popular OC or not!)

So show me a picture, tell me about them! Anything you wanna say. Class, romance partner, personality, back story, and I'll engage with you about them as best I can with positive words 💕

[kaivenom]

One Piece men reaction to you stealing their signature clothes

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Trafalgar Law, Eustass Kid, Killer

Masterlist

Luffy

He is running thru the deck, absolutely nervous and irritated, ¿where is his hat?, he is almost having a panic attack.

Suddently he saw you fishing on the border of the deck with his hat on.

He instantly deflates like a balloon, you two are dating and he ussually lets you use his hat but it's the first you steal it without permission.

He approaches you from behind and wraps his rubber arms around yourself, enough silent to scare you but enough strong to not let you fall.

"Hi captain, how are you doing?"

"I tought my hat disappeared, i was scared, you know it's important to me." his voice sounded a little sad, you must have given him a lot of trouble.

"Sorry gorgeous, i wanted to fish but the sun it's too hot and you were sleeping so i took it, i shouldn't have done that."

"You can take my hat, but please, tell me next time."

"Of course i will, not doing this again, i don't want you to have another rough wake up." you give him a little kiss on the nose, you know he loves it.

"And if you want to fish tell me first, i want to fish with you..." a little of his ussual child behaviour is back.

"But you were sleeping," he hid his face on your neck.

"Then wake me up."

"You don't like that."

"I like it when you do it, and i can always sleep here." he placed his head on your lap and fell asleep again.

Zoro

It was a crazy idea, but you wanted to try it.

You stealed his haramaki while he was sleeping and you had a goal in mind with that.

You were in front of the mirror, trying to clip the haramaki tight enough to make a top for you.

You almost got it, it was starting to look good.

Then the door opened and Zoro appeared with an irritated look.

Then he saw you and his mouth dropped almost to the floor.

"What were you..." he didn't finish the question, instead he was doing hand signals.

"I thought it would look good." you are now blusing, a lot.

"You.... you can't...." it sounded like Zoro couldn't talk properly, that's when you saw he was blushing too, "You look very good on it," he covered his face with his hand.

"Thanks, i am glad you are not mad."

"I am mad but you look pretty, i hope you didn't break it."

"No, i am just clipping it, no sewing." he got behind you and put his hands on your waist.

"I can help, but later i will get a reward for contributing in this model's look." you laughed.

Sanji

He has a set of jewelry which consists on a necklace, a ring and a bracelet.

There are some ocasions that he lets you have one of the three, but you wanted to try it all.

Today he was doing dinner and you hugged him from behind.

You felt him tense but he was still cutting the vegetables, but now at a slower pace.

You were already wearing the ring so you showed it to his face and then got to his neck and unclipped the golden chain.

His breathing was starting to hitch, he isn't sure if he would be able to turn around and ask you what you were thinking.

You put the necklace on you neck and then you move your hand to his wrist.

Now he is completely unable to continue doing his chores.

You uncliped the third item and put it on yourself.

He finally turned around and saw you admiring how his yewelry looks on yourself.

"What are you doing." he was trembling.

"I wanted to see how good they look on me." you showed the ring and bracelet on his face again.

"And you need it to do it like that? mon amour." and then Sanji got a nose bleed and needed to sit down.

Trafalgar Law

He was so inmerse on his book that he didn't sense you enter the room and take his hat from the table.

He told you he couldn't sleep with you that night but you needed to feel him close so you stealed the hat, carefully.

At the end he finished his readings sooner so he got to your bedroom, he was so tired that he didn't noticed he wasn't wearing his hat.

The surprise came when he got to your side and saw his hat on you.

He blushed a lot, almost tripped, you looked so cute in his eyes.

He is not the one to think someone is cute but you always manage to make him flustered.

He wanted to wake you up and kiss you but after some thinking, he realize he is too tired to do it, so he waited to next morning.

When you woke up you were really surprised, Law tends to sleep on his side of the bed keeping distance from you, but this night he was trapping you with his arms.

You were unable to leave his embrace, but you aren't complaining about it.

Eustass Kidd

You were really cold, the winter island was giving you a hard time.

So you took his coat to get out of the ship to do some shopping.

When you came back his yellings were audible from miles away, apparently he tought someone was making jokes on him.

When he saw you getting on the deck with his red coat, he almost choked.

He really liked seeing you with his coat (his nose almost bleed) but he needed to keep his reputation.

He yells at you trying to discipline you on public (not to much).

When you both got into your room he tried to make it up.

"Don't think i will forgive you." you said while laying on bed.

"I have a reputation, but i didn't meant to be so rude."

"i am not hearing an apology."

"Sorry." He is red as a tomato.

"Good boy." you patted his head carefully while his arms embrace you.

"It suited you very well." you laugh when he hid is face on your chest.

Killer

Another heart attack, he never goes outside without his helmet, so when he wakes up and couldn't find it, he starts to anxious.

Early enough he discovers that you are on the bathroom cleaning it, repainting it and fixing it.

When he opened the door it was like you both became deers looking at car lights.

You were sure he was going to be mad at you but seeing someone being so preoccupied with his favourite.

"You could have said something:"

"I wanted it to be a surprise, plus this thing is nasty as fuck." his big muscular arms went to your waist.

"Thanks." he rubbed his head to yours and lowered himself for you to put the helmet on him.

"No." you pated his blonde hair, "this thing is still wet, so you have to wait."

"Kid is going to kill me if im late."

"Don't worry, we can manage to dry it fast."

[agaypanic]

One More Problem (Rodrick Heffley X Jefferson!Reader Smut)

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Summary: You were a good girl; straight-A student with extracurriculars, nice to your brother, the worst curse word you’d say in public was “damn.” But behind closed doors, your boyfriend Rodrick can turn you into an entirely different kind of girl.

A/N: inspired by a jefferson!reader ask i answered. did i go overboard with this? who knows lol 

C/W: corruption kink, dom/sub dynamic, dumbification kink, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!!), degradation kink, praise kink, cockwarming

***

Nobody could really wrap their head around why you and Rodrick were dating. You were different, too different. You were the good girl. Model student, a golden child, practically perfect. Rodrick, on the other hand, was a complete neanderthal who would probably end up dropping or failing out of high school. 

You supposed that that was something you liked about Rodrick. He was different from the expectations that you had to live up to. He practically lived on energy drinks, played loud ass rock music wherever he went, and wore eyeliner that was always smudged beyond any kind of definition. When you were with Rodrick, he made you feel alive.

Plus, the sex was amazing.

You sighed for what felt like the thousandth time, staring a hole into the homework that sat on your desk. Rodrick had come over to hang out, mainly because the rest of your family was out of the house, but you wanted to finish your homework before goofing off with him. But for some reason, this math worksheet was kicking your ass.

“Babe, just take a break,” Rodrick said, sitting up on your bed.

You shook your head, rubbing your eyes. “Just one more problem.”

“You said that four problems ago.” Suddenly, Rodrick was standing next to you, looking down on you. “Don’t you want a break?”

With the way you were acting, you should’ve said yes. But instead, you shook your head. What you wanted was completely different.

Rodrick noticed the pleading look in your eyes and had to stop himself from laughing. “Do you want me to help you?” You nodded. “Say it.”

“Yes.”

Any other person would immediately say no. But you knew that Rodrick wasn’t offering to help you with the math. 

Rodrick grabbed your wrist, helping you get up. He scooted the chair back a little before sitting down and unbuckling his studded belt. Your mouth watered as you watched your boyfriend pull his half-erect cock out of his jeans and boxers.

“Come on, baby.” He said, one hand stroking himself while the other went under your skirt, cupping your aching pussy through your panties and making you mewl. “Aw, you’re soaking. Needy thing.” 

Rodrick moved you to stand in front of him. He tucked the hem of your skirt into the waistband and moved the seat of your underwear to the side before guiding you to sit on his dick. You let out a whiny moan when Rodrick bottomed out, filling you to the brim. You leaned against his chest, trying to adjust to his size while he stroked your hair.

“You’re just useless without my dick in you, huh? Isn’t that right, pretty girl?” He hooked your legs over his spread ones to put your stuffed pussy on full display. Rodrick looked at the sight from over your shoulder. “What a pretty pussy. Look, baby. Look at how my fat dick is stretching your little cunt.”

You shuddered at his words, incredibly aroused by the way he talked to you. If you had told yourself a year ago that not only would you be dating Rodrick, but you’d also love the way he degraded you during sex, she would’ve thought you were fucking crazy.

“Okay, you know the rules.” Rodrick brought you out of your thoughts by grabbing your chin and making you look at the neglected paper you had been working on. “Finish your homework, and you can get fucked like the dirty girl you are. You only have one problem left, right?” You nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for Rodrick. His hands went down to your hips and pulled you even further down on his cock, making you squeal. “I thought you were a good girl.”

“I am.” You whined, gripping his wrist. “I am, I am.”

“Then answer me. You only have one problem left, right?”

“Yes!” Pleased, Rodrick let go of his iron grip on your hips, making you both relieved and disappointed. His hands settled on your inner thighs while you grabbed your pencil and started to read over the problem again.

But he just felt so good. You tried to discreetly grind on him, but a hard slap to your thigh deterred you from any further action.

Rodrick must have sensed that you were still having problems. “I thought my dick was supposed to help you, baby.” He cooed, fingers ghosting over your clit. “But you’re just getting dumber and dumber, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh.” You gripped your pencil as Rodrick pinched your clit, making you jolt. 

It felt like a million years before you finally finished the math problem. With every second that passed, you just became more and more needy and cockdrunk. It didn’t help that Rodrick would play with your clit every time you actually started to concentrate.

You set the pencil down on your desk. “Done?” Rodrick asked.

“Uh-huh.”

He looked over your shoulder, smiling when he saw that the paper was completely filled out. He, of course, didn’t know whether or not you were actually correct, but the fact that you finished the problem was its own accomplishment. “Looks like my girl deserves a reward, huh?”

You furiously nodded, and Rodrick grabbed your chin to smash his lips against yours. It was a sloppy battle of tongues and teeth. Not wanting to ruin your work, Rodrick moved the worksheet to the side before standing up, bringing you with him, still impaled on his cock. He broke the kiss and had you bend over the desk, staring out the window that was right in front of you.

He slowly started to pull out, spreading your cheeks so he could see how soaked his dick was in your juices. He stopped when just the tip was in, smirking at the sound of you whining about feeling empty before slamming back into your greedy cunt. Rodrick kept up a brutal pace, balls slapping your clit with every thrust.

Your eyes rolled back as Rodrick grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up so you were arching your back and looking out into the neighbor. “Imagine your family saw you like this.” He grunted in your ear. “What would they think? Seeing their precious daughter being a dirty, cockdrunk whore for me right now.” You whined loudly, incredibly grateful that the house was empty. “If only everyone knew that the golden girl gets dumb from me dicking her down.”

Rodrick reached around to start rubbing at your clit, making your legs tremble. Thank god the desk and Rodrick’s grip on your hair were holding you up. “Roddy!” You whined, screwing your eyes shut. “Roddy, I’m gonna come. Can I come?”

“Beg.” Your boyfriend responded sharply, keeping up his relentless pace.

“Please, please, please. I’ve been such a good girl for you.” You whimpered at the feeling of Rodrick continuously brushing against your G-spot. “I’m your dirty little girl. I wanna come so bad, please!”

“So fucking needy.” Rodrick groaned, speeding up the pace on your clit. “Since you wanna come so bad, do it now. All over my cock.”

The coil in your tummy snapped, and you let out a high-pitched scream at the feeling of your intense release. Your entire body shook as you covered Rodrick’s dick in your cum, which just made it easier for him to piston in and out of you. He fucked you roughly through your high, making you whimper and squirm as he chased his own.

“Fuck, gonna-” Rodrick cut himself off with a groan, spilling into you while his pace stuttered to a stop. 

Slowly, he leaned on top of your worn-out body, both of you hissing at the feeling of him going deeper in you. You were quiet for a few minutes, trying to collect yourselves.

When Rodrick recovered, he left a couple kisses on your shoulder. “You okay?” 

You looked back at him, a lazy grin overtaking your features. “Never been better.”

***

Rodrick Heffley Taglist: @tweedledipshit @screechingsandwichtriumph