#gold stocks to buy now

[avelera]

Thinking about Hob Gadling in 1589, or rather in the decades leading up to 1589 when we see him as Sir Robert Gadlen

Thinking about how he went north, twice, to come back as his own son, presumably to build the myth of the Gadlen family. Before that, as a soldier, a brigand, and a tradesman in printing, he probably didn't have enough money to need to "leave it" to a son, because he'd had no real assets. No houses, no businesses, nothing besides his weapons and armor, the proverbial clothes on his back, and what spoils of war could be carried with him.

But to make money you have to spend it, you have to have it, you have to invest it. 1389, the year of Hob gaining immortality, corresponds to the birth year of Cosimo de' Medici, the man who would establish the great banking dynasty of Florence, Italy. I note this because this transformation in Europe corresponds with Hob's progress through immortality and rather roughly corresponds to when, as I see it, he would have moved from an individual soldier of fortune to make his living to needing some sort of continuity of identity if he was going to move beyond that.

In this instance, pretending to be his own son (or relative) would be a necessity to inherit his own wealth so he could carry it forward for the next 10-30 years, before he'd have to reinvent himself again. The money to buy a knighthood would be the work of generations.

I'm thinking about Hob building himself up from being a printer's apprentice (because printing was so new a trade that it was probably one of the few where he could get in as a man perpetually in his 30s, most apprenticeships would require you to begin as a child) to gaining his knighthood. By his own admission of faking his death twice by 1589, he'd be Robert Gadlen the Third, possibly the Fourth (not that this was a naming convention back then for commoners, but more to illustrate where 1589 Hob stood in the line of his own fictional family inheritance).

The first half of the 1500s in England under Henry VIII still saw a predominance of nobility holding the lion's share of power, but it did see something of a shift where you had noteworthy men rise to great heights from common origin, like Thomas Wolsey and Thomas Cromwell (yes, I'm rewatching Wolf Hall, why do you ask?).

But now to the point that got me thinking about this: imagine Hob in the 1500s. At the beginning of the century he is the first of his name, building his fortune. Robert Gadlen, who made his money in the printing business then invested it, through a great stroke of luck in to the powers-that-would-be that century: the Tudor shipyards. Hob building himself from very nearly nothing, peasant stock, nothing more than a soldier and a brigand before that. It's still grubby to build oneself up from trade, better to have been born to wealth of course, this isn't American Yankeedom and we're before the Puritans, where showing one's hard work was a virtue rather than an ugly necessity of the common people. But Hob still did it, with his own hands.

Imagining Robert Gadlen II, and Robert Gadlen III, the "scion" of a family on the rise, sniffing around the edges of the Tudor court, eventually finding his way in, having enough gold to buy himself a knighthood.

Imagining Robert Gadlen, meeting one of those common men in the service of Henry VIII, noting with chagrin their own common birth, the sons of blacksmiths and butchers, unlike Sir Robert, whose father was a man of means who left a growing fortune to his son.

And I can't help but imagine Hob smiling, a little slyly because he did it, he slipped passed the censors, no one knows of the fact he was born to peasant stock almost 200 years ago, and no one ever will. As far as anyone knows, he was born wealthy, a gentleman in the rising social consciousness that all it takes to be a gentleman is to have the money to act as one.

But I can't help but wonder if that smile would be just a little uncomfortable, too. Because no one will ever know. No one will ever know that Sir Robert Gadlen didn't inherit his money, that he's not some child of nepotism and generational wealth who has never worked and never starved. He is the founder of his own family, he built it himself and with each generation that goes by he has to leave more and more of that story behind him. Except with Dream.

[jobean12-blog]

Let Me

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader (Mafia/Mob AU)

Word Count: 1,191

Author's Note: I can't get enough of super softie Mob!Bucky and I was thinking about how after a shit awful day it would be so lovely to come home to him and of course he prioritizes you above all else. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: softness and fluff and sweetness and love and a bad day but Bucky fixes everything!

I picture him with the long hair/bun and beefiness and looking classy and amazing but not to flashy! You know- just right for someone as powerful as him 🫠

You walk in the door, dropping your bag to the floor and toeing off your shoes so fast they bounce off the wall. With a slight wince your shoulders jump before you deflate and drag yourself toward the kitchen.

A comforting aroma fills the hallway the closer you get and you start to hear the clinking and clanging of pots and pans.

You were expecting to come home to an empty apartment.

“Bucky?” you ask quietly as you round the corner.

He looks up from the stove, his smile faltering when he sees the look on your face. He rushes toward you with his arms outstretched and open.

Your eyes well with tears and you launch yourself into his embrace, burying your face against his bare skin and taking a deep breath.

“You’re home,” you mumble.

“’Course I am doll,” he states. “You sounded terrible on the phone so I wanted to be here when you got back.”

“But…” you sniffle. “You said you had a very important meeting tonight…”

“Steve can handle it for now,” he murmurs and kisses the top of your head, “you’re more important.”

You tighten your grip and look up, resting your chin on his chest. “Thank you.”

He dips his head, the light brush of his lips making your eyelashes flutter closed.

Without a word he leads you out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. He stops in front of his closet and shuffles through his folded tee shirts. After pulling one out he moves to your dresser and gets a pair of your most comfortable cotton panties and a fuzzy pair of socks.

Then he sits on the edge of the bed and crooks you over with his finger, positioning your body between his spread thighs. He starts to unbutton your blouse; his movements deliberate and slow. Once he has all the buttons undone he carefully slips the silk from your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

“Want to tell me about it baby doll?” he asks softly before running his fingers along your collarbone.

He gently grabs your chin and brings your eyes down to his, then brushes his thumb across your lips.

“It was just awful,” you blurt out, leaning into his touch.

Your fingers trace his jaw, falling lower until they meet his necklace. You toy with the gold, dancing your fingers along the outline and over his chest.

As you ramble on about the shit day you had he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, delicately letting it fall forward until your free of the constricting lace. You sigh in relief but shiver at the chill of air against your bare skin.

“Absolutely stunning,” he murmurs as his eyes sweep over your skin.

He grabs your hips and pulls you closer, placing soft kisses along the swell of your breasts.

You sigh contentedly and rest your hands on his shoulders.

He reaches for his tee shirt. “Arms up,” he instructs and you lift them.

When he has his shirt secured over your arms he lets it fall down your body and you’re instantly surrounded by soft warmth and his soothing scent.

“And then I lost one of my diamond earrings,” you continue, sniffling between every other word.

He listens intently while he changes your clothes, removing your skirt next and then your stockings.

“Aw baby doll. But it’s ok, I’ll buy you another pair,” he assures you.

He takes your hand in his and ghosts his lips across your knuckles.

When he gets to your shoes he lifts your foot into his lap and unstraps your heel. Before he sets your foot down again he gives it a little massage, making your groan as you go on with your rant.

“But you gave those to me on our honeymoon in Greece. It was such a special moment and…”

He looks up at you lovingly as he hooks his thumbs into your lace panties and tugs them down your legs and off your feet. Once he has your cotton pair in his hands he slides them up, adjusting them before pressing his lips to your stomach, his soft butterfly kisses making you giggle.

“And?” he says, waiting for you to finish.

“I would have been heartbroken to lose it but thankfully, I ended up finding it in my bag. It must have fallen out and into there.”

“Good thing,” he says. “I can’t have you heartbroken over anything. And I would have figured out a way to fix it.”

“I know,” you answer.

He takes the fuzzy socks and slides each one on, then stands and tucks you under his arm.

“I like when you help me get dressed,” you tell him.

“As much as you like when I undress you?” he simpers, throwing you a playful wink.

“No way, that’s my favorite.”

“Mine too,” he croons with a sweet kiss as he leads you to the living room.

“Wait here,” he says, “and then you can tell me about the rest of the day.”

You nod and watch him leave then lift the collar of his tee shirt to sniff it.

“Smell good?” he muses as he walks back in with a plate of food.

You smile sweetly. “Almost as good as you.”

He sits on the couch with a smirk and pats his thigh. “Come ‘ere doll.”

You shift and move into his lap, resting against his chest.

“So finish telling me what happened,” he gently prods as he picks up the fork of food and lifts it to your lips. “But make sure you chew first.”

You take the bite and moan around the delicious taste, chewing well before you let the rest of your problems out. With each bite he waits patiently for you to talk and chew and all the while you mindlessly fiddle with his wedding ring, twirling it around his finger.

“I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” you say, opening up for another bite of food.

“Did you eat anything after we had breakfast this morning?” he asks pointedly.

You drop your chin. “No.”

“Doll face,” he admonishes. “You have to eat throughout the day!”

“I was busy and it was such a shitty day,” you whine, trying to defend yourself even though you know he’s right.

“I know,” he coos softly, placing the plate down and grabbing dessert. “But promise me you’ll be more careful.”

“I promise,” you tell him, sealing it with a kiss.

Once the dessert plate is clean and you’re licking your lips for the last drops of deliciousness, he puts down the plate and then pulls his hair tie free, releasing his bun so his hair falls loosely at his shoulders. You grab the tie and slip it over his wrist with a smile.

He lays down on the couch, taking you with him until your cocooned in his arms.

“Want to watch something?” he asks as his hands reverently wander over your skin.

“Can we just cuddle for now?”

You nuzzle his neck, softly running your nose along the strong muscles before placing a soft kiss to his scruffy jaw.

“Anything you want doll.”

@book-dragon-13 @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @sebstanwhore @hallecarey1 @kmc1989 @goldylions

[sunaluv]

WAGs

WAG: A wife or girlfriend of a sports star

Featuring: k.sakusa, r.suna

[ushijima,atsumu] vers.

Note: happy new year! I love how I posted like 5 things then dipped but I wanted to write some more on here 😭 enjoy!

Sakusa:

You had met sakusa whilst he was making a name for himself. He wasn’t as big as he was now, but his name would be floating around the internet somewhere.

That’s actually how you first saw him. One of your friends had shared a photo of his in a groupchat, and the whole chat was going crazy over this insanely hot insanely talented upcoming volleyball star.

Of course you found him attractive, but you were absolutely certain he would be yours. There was no mindless attraction. You geniuinely believed your friend had just send your future husband directly to you.

She kinda did tho

Flash forward a couple months, you were doing some early morning shopping as one does. The store was quieter, everything’s was in stock. It was perfect. It was SO PERFECT.

because just as you were picking out snacks for your apartment, you saw a masked man dressed in a black hoodie that may have been a bit to small for him, seeing as you could make out the definitions of his muscles through the fabric.

You knew that man from anywhere, after all you had only been dreaming of him for the past few months.

Not wasting this opportunity, you bravely approached him, making small talk about the stuff you were buying.

‘This was no one and done situation though, ‘you thought.

The next store runs, you slowly grew closer, sometimes going to the shop only to talk to him.

He eventually gained the courage to ask you on a date and from there your relationship progressed until you took his last name.

By now, sakusa was bringing in BANK, not that that was the reason you were with him but still.

He vowed to spoil you like you deserved whilst you were in the talking phase, and boy did he keep his promise.

Eventually, you quit your job after your husbands persistent pleads that he makes enough money to support the both of you. All you had to do was support him in his games.

And with your new free time, you were seen at the majority of them, looking pretty on the Jumbotron with your hair done, dressed to the t with the finest jewelry, the most noticable one being the gold necklace with his jersey number on it that sat in between your collarbones.

Naturally, you gained your own cult following on social media, and you were often photographed at games and events due to your great fashion sense.

Speaking of

You met the rest of kiyoomi’s team at an MSBY exclusive event, aswell as the other wives and girlfriends of the players.

Sakusa loves you dearly and will spoil you at every given chance.

SUNA

You and suna were highschool sweethearts

You had supported him ever since the inarizaki days and continue to to so as he plays for EJP.

People have known about you for YEARS. It was almost like you grew as he did.

But it was mainly because he still has the cheesy romantic highlights of you from inarizaki, so as he gained more followers, more people viewed the highlights.

Even if they didn’t, his actual feed is full of pictures of you.

When it comes to spoiling you, he sees gift giving as more as a thank you or appreciation for sticking with him all these years, because you played a big part in shaping his career too, looking after him when he didn’t.

That being said he really does appreciate you, shown by the various Swarovski crystals adorning your neck and wrists, the sleek sports cars he bought for you claiming ‘they’re our children’, or the random, but costly furniture you obsess over dotted around your shared penthouse.

The man introduced you into a world of luxury and endless princess treatment, and vowed to never take you out of it.

[some-thrilling-heroics]

the way I see it, wyll had to learn on the road how to feed himself. sure maybe he knew how to fish, but did he pack a fishing rod when ulder kicked him out? I don’t think so 😔

so with very limited means and lots of try send error he learns to forage and hunt and do stuff so it's all edible and can sustain him on the road from town to town and village to village, bc supplies are nice but they cost gold and he goes after monsters so I think his gold goes mainly towards healing potions and such

but! all those people he's saving, not all of them have means to pay in gold and riches (if he's lucky the monster is a hoarder) so I imagine some pay by giving him a bed for the night to sleep under a roof for a change, maybe somebody pays / shows gratitude by neatly stitching the hole in his shirt, and of course feeding him. but my point is. imagine wyll going all over the coast, collecting recipes from grateful townsfolk and peasants, and treasuring it, but being unable to make those things (for the most part) bc he's on the road and also bc he hasn't learnt it so even if he landed in a fully stocked kitchen he wouldn't know what to do with some of it

and then he meets the tadfools, and he goes to forage with halsin and listens to everything the druid has to say on how to spot safe berries and shroom, and what you can do with them with nothing but the campfire and a pot of water. and it's not all brand new for wyll, he had to figure it out for himself, but it's nice to have stuff sorted and confirmed with a good reliable source. and halsin shows him how to find and forage herbs so it's not just bland sustenance (bet your ass wyll would not 'waste' precious coin on spices when that money could buy him a temporary roof over his head in a blizzard)

and then he likes to watch gale cook, bc there's this practiced confidence to how he does things, it's not even that they share the same tastes, tho maybe a little, but I headcanon that wyll would be very self conscious abt sharing his culinary skills with the group. surviving on his own is one thing, but these ppl were plucked from their homes (presumably at first at least) and it's intimidating to think of their judgment.

and with a group, a bigger coin purse and some luck he ends up having the opportunity to not just cook with spices but also feel free enough to learn and fuck up some of it ('waste')

just. baby wyll going from harsh survival mode with a heroic facade to finding a family that encourages him and takes care of him as much as he wants to take care of them 😭

he has this whole book of recipes given to him by ppl he saved who were so grateful they shared their own traditions and family heirlooms with him to take on the road. and he now has people to share those with 😭🥲😌

[therealcocoshady]

Dating Marshall Mathers HCs - Love languages edition

Author’s Note : Hey Stans 🥰. I am a sucker for Eminem Headcanons so I decided to give it a shot ☺️. Let me know what kind of HCs you’d like 👀. These HCs are based from the vibe I get from him, from his music, appearances or interviews - I might be wrong though, or you might disagree. Or not ? Either way, let me know what you think ❤️

Acts of service 

On some things, he is a bit old-fashioned and he will see some things as « his job ». He knows you can carry your bags or put that Ikea shelf together yourself. Doesn’t mean you have to. 

Absolute gentleman. Contrary to what he says he has manners. He just doesn’t overdo it. 

He is pissed when you ask for someone else’s help instead of his 

« Why didn’t you ask me ? » 

Also annoyed when you don’t ask for anything at all 

That being said, he hates asking for help

As much as possible, he will do his best to make your life easier with small gestures like : 

Picking you up at the airport // Driving you to and from work if he can 

Having your favorite food delivered to you when he is not there and he knows you are too lazy/tired/sick to cook 

Taking care of you when you are sick, tired or simply having a bad day 

Making sure his pantry is stocked with your favorite drinks and beverages 

He enjoys helping you when you are cooking/cleaning… 

Once he is comfortable around your place he will even do it unprompted 

Gifts

Might be his least favorite love language 

He enjoys giving gifts far more than he likes receiving them 

He is very hard to shop for anyway 

What do you get for a man who has the means to get everything he wants for himself ?

He is grateful for gifts but he is not really the materialistic type 

He low-key doesn’t believe he deserves gifts anyway 

When he gives you a gift, you can expect it to be meaningful and thoughtful

He pays a lot of attention to details 

Or it can be something you mentioned you needed 

Big, expensive gifts are for special occasions

Just because he has the means doesn’t mean he will gift you a Chanel bag on a random Thursday. Sorry. 

When he splurges, he doesn’t half-ass it but it doesn’t happen too often either 

Before he buys you something expensive, you have to be together for a while

Trying to win a woman over by spending money on her ? Yeah, not for him. He is too scared of gold-diggers. 

Also, if you have a fight, he might try to suck up to you with a gift or a bouquet even though he is the first to criticize how shallow gifts can be 

When he is away and doesn’t see you for a while, he might arrange for a surprise delivery, to make you smile and also make sure you don’t forget about him (as if it were possible)

Physical touch 

He is a bit guarded at first, so much so that you start doubting that he actually likes you (« Surely, he would have made a move by now… » - nope that man is just slow)

If he actually likes you, he makes it a point to behave like a gentleman and he will try and pick the best time for a first kiss or even simply holding your hand for the first time 

Great kisser. 

Not a big fan of public displays of affection (for obvious reasons)

If the two of you are ever spotted together, people might mistake you for a member of his team because he will not even get caught holding your hand 

That’s partly because he values your privacy at least as much as his - he doesn’t want his girl to get harassed or bothered 

However, when it’s just the two of you, he is all over you 

Whenever the two of you spend time together, he enjoys having physical contact with you, even if it’s just holding your hand while watching a movie 

Definitely makes up for his busy schedule with physical touch. 

Quality time

Probably his love language of choice 

Overall, he is really mindful of your schedule and appreciates that you respect his 

If you don’t, it’s not going to work between the two of you anyway 

Most of the time, he is punctual and he will not show up late to one of your dates 

If it happens, he will profusely apologize and make it up to you 

Might get a little pissed if you do (but he knows that girls will be girls and you are most likely late because you wanted to be extra pretty for him) 

He has a hectic schedule but he if he loves you he will make time for you 

Him making time for you is actually one of the telltale signs he actually cares about you 

If you are as busy as him, he really appreciates that you manage to make time for him

No phones rule during your dates 

Like, seriously, it’s a huge red flag for him if his date spends too much time on her phone instead of enjoying the moment 

Speaking of phones… He doesn’t text you too much. Instead, he tries to find moments when he can call you and have an actual conversation. 

When you are talking, you have his full attention 

He pays attention to everything you say and and do, even when it doesn’t seem like it 

He remembers everything 

He enjoys hearing you talk about things you are passionate about

If it’s something he is not too familiar with, he asks questions and he might even make an effort to do some research of his own, just so he can keep up with you 

And in turn, he really appreciates if you do the same 

Doesn’t seem like it at first, but he actually enjoys a good conversation. Even if you’re gorgeous, if you’re not interesting… Hard pass. 

He also gets really talkative if he’s talking about a topic he is passionate about. Like hip-hop culture, pop culture, sports… He will talk your ears off. And he likes talking about it with you. 

Even better if you are able to have an actual debate with him. He might not agree with you but he respects someone who can stand their ground and have actual valid arguments. 

Because you might not be able to spend too much time together sometimes, he will do his best to make your dates special 

As your relationship evolves, he includes you in some more mundane activities, just to enjoy more of your company 

Don’t expect to spend too much time at the studio with him. He keeps his work and personal life separate. 

That being said, he might invite you to spend time with him there once or twice. And it means a lot. 

Words of affirmations 

We all know this man has a way with words 

When he praises you or compliments you, he means it 

A perk of dating a dictionary nerd : he chooses his words carefully 

Never a dull compliment 

He is a great motivator : when he encourages you and tells you you can do it, you actually start believing that you can 

He is good when It comes to giving words of affirmation but receiving them ? Nope. 

When you compliment him, he gets a bit awkward and doesn’t know how to react 

That being said, he enjoys it 

Compliments he enjoys the most are not necessarily the ones about his professional skills or physical appearance but genuinely about his character 

Any fan could tell him he is a great rapper or that he looks good. But having his girl tell him what an amazing person she thinks he is and being specific about it ? YES. 

Basically, just show him that you care about him (the real him) 

With how guarded he is, it might be some time before he actually says « I love you »

It might not come with a big declaration either. Just « I love you ». Simple. 

Definitely catches you off guard the first time he says it, with a super casual tone. 

However, when he says it, he means it 

He leaves you small notes, too 

[orangelionfurandtaxidermy]

Hi, I have some fur farm questions if you don't mind answering.

I've seen you mention that Sapphire is questionable. Why is that? Is it bc of the bleeding and CHS? If so, is Mansfield's Pearl also questionable to breed? And can CHS or bleeding issues be bred out or are they inherently part of the color?

On that note, do you have information on other color mutations that are linked to health issues?

Lastly, how does one get into fur farming? It seems really expensive to set up and buy all the foxes, and I struggle to find fur farms to follow online bc of how taboo it is let alone finding farms to buy live stock from, especially of rare mutations. Is finding farms to buy from more of a word of mouth + trust thing? And is mentorship of new farmers a thing or is fur farming too competitive for established farmers to want to do that?

Bonus: feel free to talk about your favorite mutations or anything else you wanna share.

Hi!

Yes Sapphires seem to all carry genetic illnesses. Some look to be only mildly affected, I’ve been following a few foxes friends of me carefully bred after they discovered some of their Pearls are Mansfield Pearls. So far the animals look to be doing ok, so it’s surely not a death sentence.

However I fear not all farms will be so careful about their breeding or using unhealthy animals because they want to get that special color. You’ve probably seen or heard about Mouse, the Sapphire fox Save a Fox bought from Northern Fox and Fur (a fur farm) several years ago.

Sadly Mouse did have severe CHS and had to be euthanised. There are very strong suspicions the farm bred “special needs” animals so the rescue could profit from the sob stories. Eventually Save a Fox bought out the whole farm. As of today it’s still about half filled with foxes because they can’t place the animals anywhere. Every rescue is full.

Mansfield Pearl alters the way in which blood behaves, foxes of this color seem very prone to excessive bleeding. I acquired this female Pearl Cross (suspected Mansfield Pearl Cross) “secondhand” a few years ago from the US. From what I see in the picture, it’s not a place I want to support. However this girl had already been culled for killing her whole litter of pups. When my tanner skinned the fox, they found that the bones were super weak and easy to snap. The skin had an unusual amount of bloodvessels and also the gums and teeth were quite funky. I’m still waiting for the cleaned skull.

In red foxes there’s not that many bad mutations luckily. Pale eyed foxes do experience sensitivity to the sun, we’ve seen them squint in direct sunlight. Mixing Whitemark/Ringneck/Platinum/Georgian (Snow) creates a lethal effect in homozygous form. Platinums can be anemic but it does seem to be worse in certain breeding lines than others. There’s probably others I’m forgetting but sadly there’s not much research being done anymore.

Finding a farm to work with is very hard nowadays. I somehow got myself a contact 5-6 years ago and it’s snowballed from there. The number of farms is very low now though, many of my own contacts have decided to stop farming because it’s essentially two full time jobs for the pay of half a job.

At least here in Europe it’s pretty much impossible to start up your own farm unless you have serious cash. No bank will want to provide you a loan because there’s little money to be made in the industry. Mutation foxes are very rare, most of what is produced is mink fur, arctic fox fur (‘bluefox’) and some raccoondog fur. You’ll find some Silver and Gold fox, but even those pelts are currently being sold in bulk at rock bottom prices to overseas buyers.

A picture of a Smokey Platinum pup for those who read this whole thing lol. This is a newer mutation for us, last year we had one male and this pup is one of his. Can you see the differences between this cage vs the one the female Pearl Cross lived in (she could barely turn around)? The cage in the background gives a better view of the size. There is also a nest box attached.

[dellalyra]

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

pixie says: this is my first foray into writing for genshin but neuvilette is too pretty to ignore and if you notice i am writing for another tall man with white hair no you didn’t.

The Chief Justice of Fontaine was an elusive man. Aloof, serious, logical. The air of grace and elegance that flowed from his body and being put the most beautiful of swans to shame. The way he carried himself with such poise and dignity, made it clear why he was so very respected throughout Fontaine. His air of unattainability was echoed by the ever polite, kind-yet-distant way he interacted with others. That, and the obvious - that level of otherworldly beauty. It was what first struck the traveller upon meeting Neuvilette - such beautiful features, graceful and sharp like the man himself. Hair as white as freshly fallen snow with those odd blue horns (it became quite clear to the traveller that they were horns - since there was no way in Celestia that the Iudex was not the Hydro Dragon).

Yet - that day, at the grave of Navia’s father - it was clear as day that there was a deep, painful, lingering sadness in those beautiful eyes.

Lumine hoped he wasn’t alone.

The life of a dragon can be a lonely one.

An invite to dinner had arrived for Paimon and Lumine, from Navia - a thank you for their help during the trial. Following the etiquette she had been picking up on in each nation, it was customary to bring a gift to the host in Fontaine which lead her to wandering the streets in search of a florist. Lumine may have been very adept at gathering flowers and plants - however floristry arrangements were never a skill an intergalactic traveler and the sword of Teyvat had ever picked up on.

The pale blue front of the flower shop was immaculately painted and decorated with gilded lettering ‘la gueule de loup’ - which according to Paimon meant Snapdragon.

What an odd name, she hadn’t seen a single snapdragon in Fontaine.

“Bonsoir! If you need any assistance, please let me know!” A cheerful voice echoed from the door behind the cream counter.

“Hello! We would like to buy a bouquet please!” Paimon responded - ever the duo’s spokesperson.

At that, a woman in a pale pink apron came around the corner. Hair haphazardly pulled up atop her head secured with a pencil and a dark blue ribbon - a cream, soft blouse tucked into a dark blue layered skirt atop white stockings and navy and gold boots, a n embroidered blazer sat atop a chair which matched the woman’s skirt. She smiled brightly at the pair in front of her - and Lumine’s breath hitched when the shining tone of her eyes caught the evening sunlight, an otherworldly quality to her aura.

“A bouquet? Well, good thing you’re in a flower shop! I might have some flowers we could piece together!” She said, giggling as she gestured to the sea of flowers engulfing the store.

Paimon smiled and laughed and Lumine followed suit.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lumine and Paimon - I was hoping I would get to run into you soon.” She said as she collected a basket to gather her supplies.

“You know us?” Paimon asks.

“Sweetheart, I think everyone in Teyvat knows you. The brave and beautiful outlander and her clever guide. However, my husband was in attendance at the most recent magic show and trial - so I became privy to all of the inside scoop.” She smiled.

“You did not attend? I thought all of Fontaine was there.” Lumine spoke up.

“Ah, I tend to not get involved with the trials, I am delivered a rundown of the days events in the evenings. Yet I have been to several of the twins magic shows, such fantastic entertainment! I do love them so. Such gentle children, too, Lyney and Lynette.” The woman’s eyes lit up and an air of an excited child permeated her face. Lumine quirked a brow at the woman calling the twins ‘children’ for she looked no older than 25.

“Now! What’s the occasion?” Hands placed on her hips, the woman smiled at the travellers.

“Miss Navia asked us to dinner this evening, and we’ve been told a gift is a Fontainian custom.” Paimon speaks.

“Ah! Well, for Miss Navia you will need some clematis - her favourites. Edelweiss for courage, which you have both shown in the past few weeks. Hydrangeas for understanding - blue, I think. Iris for trust. Nasturtiums for victory. Rosemary for scent and also for remembrance of her dearest father, with some added sweet pea as a thank for you a lovely time.” The woman says, mostly to herself as she wanders the store - quickly picking up bunches of flowers from the jars in which they lay. Paimon and Lumine’s eyes were wide as if the woman spoke in tongues.

“Wow! I didn’t even know flowers could mean all that! Lyney only told us a few! You sure know your stuff, Mrs. Florist!” Paimon squealed, amazed.

The woman threw her head back in laughter.

“Y/N is fine, sweethearts. A book could be told in flowers alone. Flowers are nothing but truth, they exist for beauty and healing - and I admire them greatly.”

“You knew Miss Navia’s father?” Lumine asks, gentle voice contrasting Paimon’s outburst.

“I knew him well. A very good man, loyal endlessly and thought of Navia as his entire world. A life taken too soon in protection of his child - I lay flowers on his grave every month, mortal lives are so fragile - they must be treated with respect, no matter the circumstances.” She says, hands deftly manoeuvring the flowers into a piece of sponge.

Lumine quirked a brow.

“Mortal?”

“A state in which neither of us reside, Miss Lumine.” The woman responds with a wink and a smile.

It was logical that Lumine was not mortal, yet the explanation of this woman before her also not being so seemed to make many things far more understandable.

Just then, a patter of footsteps outside the store came trotting in through the front door.

“Mama!” A small voice called.

“Liath! Hello, sweetling!” The woman pauses her arranging and comes around the counter and leans down. Lumine spins and expects to see a child - perhaps with the florists hair.

What she didn’t expect was a Melusine.

“Papa wishes to know if you’d like to have a picnic together this evening, when he is finished at the Palais.” She asks, picking a small rose and placing it in her mother’s hair.

“Tell him that sounds wonderful, I am closing the shop soon and I meet him at the office. Thank you, Liath. Come here, let me fix your ribbon.” Y/N smiles and adjust the ribbon on the lapel of the melusine’s lapel.

“Thank you, mama. Bye bye!” She says, kissing her on the cheek and skipping out the door.

“Mama?” Lumine asks.

“Ah - not biologically. Yet, my and my husband’s nature has led us to a parental standing with the melusine’s. They are all our children, regardless of what soil they grew from.” She says, wrapping up the bouquet in a swathe of blue ribbons. Lumine wonders if by nature, did she mean they were both parental figures by nature or something to do with her not-mortal being. Perhaps her husband also was not human.

Lumine decided to press on the matter no more. Everyone deserved their privacy, after all.

“Et, voila! One bouquet for Miss Navia.” Y/N says, handing the bouquet to the traveler.

“How much do we owe you?” Lumine smiles, the bouquet truly was something exquisite, a talented woman indeed.

“Nonsense, lovely. You have done Fontaine a great service, consider this a small thank you. Miss Lumine, please take these peony roses also - they are a symbol of happiness, which you make me as I have heard you show great kindness to all of my children, for which I am so very grateful. For you, Madame Paimon, some purple Iris - meaning respect and intelligence for the Outlander’s clever guide.” She hands them all of the flowers, and winks at Lumine when she addresses Paimon, knowing that such words would fill the floating pixie with glee. True enough, Paimon squeals and dives to hug the woman who chuckles and kisses her cheek.

“Thank you so so much, Miss Y/N! We love them so much - Lumine, you could put it in your hair with your Inteyvat! I’ll put mine under my tiara, then we can match!” Lumine smiles and does as suggested.

“May I ask where you are meeting Miss Navia?” Y/N asks.

“Café Lucerne, however I’m not quite sure where that is.” Lumine responds.

“Ah! Well then I can walk you, if you wish?”

Just as she speaks, the door opens with a jungle of the bell as Lumine secured the flower in her hair she sees Y/N smile and walk around the counter.

“Hello, mon ange. I thought I was meeting you at the Palais.” Ah, must be her husband, Lumine thinks and she sees Paimon turn and freeze.

“Mon trésor, I am taking you on a picnic so it is only right that I collect you myself.” The deep rumble of a voice makes Lumine freeze too.

“YOUR HUSBAND IS MONSIEUR NEUVILETTE?!” Comes a squeal from Paimon.

Lumine spins on her heel and sees the owner of the familiar voice. Y/N’s hand is pressed to the far taller man’s cheek in a tender display of affection she would not have associated with the Chief Justice.

The gentle smile on the man’s face as he looks at his wife with such love is one she figures the melusine’s learned from him.

“Miss Lumine, Miss Paimon. A pleasure to see you. I see you have met the Madame Neuvilette.” He nods his head toward them.

“MADAME NEUVILETTE?!” Paimon seems on the verge of a meltdown at this information.

“Indeed. Apologies, I got so caught up in making such a wonderful bouquet I didn’t even introduce myself properly. Do forgive my lack of manners.” She says, turning and removing her apron as she begins to shut down the store for the evening.

Everything clicked into place just then.

The wife of the hydro dragon would hardly be a mortal woman. She mentioned the Palais, his attendance at both the magic show and the trial and of course the melusine’s would view the hydro dragon as their father.

The logical side of it all did little to curb the shock of seeing the intimidating Ludex and Hydro Dragon of Fontaine, the man who had taken out Childe with a simple slap being so gentle and enamoured in the face of his wife.

They way they looked at each other - that level of love had been a rare delight to find across her journey. Perhaps in how Zhongli spoke of Guizhong or Cyno and Tighnari - or how that certain someone looked at her and she at them…

“Neuv, we must show Lumine and Paimon to Café Lucerne on our way to our picnic.” Y/N says, ushering them all from the store before locking the door behind her.

The walk was short, as pleasantries were exchanged and Paimon and Y/N did most of the talking in the wake of the quiet counterparts.

“And here we are! I do hope you have a wonderful evening. My regards to Miss Navia. Do come and visit again soon, I would love to exchange tales of adventures!” Y/N smiles, before pressing a kiss to each cheek of the two outlanders.

“Indeed, the melusine’s speak very highly of you both - you must forgive the children if they become over zealous.” Neuvilette adds with a fond smile.

“Au revoir, enjoy your meal!” Y/N says, grasping her husbands arm and smiling at him. Lumine looks at them walk away toward the aquabus station entrance.

She could not quite believe her eyes when she sees the hydro dragon press a large pale hand to the smooth, undisturbed lower belly of his wife.

The sunset brightened ever so slightly.

Fontaine surely was full of surprises.

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

For your wounded heart

Pt.1

Pairing: Mizu x reader

Word count: ~2k

Notes: If there will be interest for it, I'll continue the story, because so far there isn't really a Mizu x reader going on lmfaoo but we'll seeeee

Ps.: Mizu's pronounce is he/him in this part

Here's Part 2

The molten gold disc of the sun slowly crept up the horizon, pouring gray onto the world from the darkness. It rose drowsily, languidly among the tall canopies, leaves lighting up as it projected onto them as thousands of thalers appeared next to the shining disk.

The songbirds ruffled their feathers — ready for the challenges of another day, and sang happily to their companions.

A strong draft escaped from under the wooden door, making the embers of the flickering fire dance before running through your covers.

The sudden cold bit into your skin; grabbing you from the realm of dreams, dragging you back to the world of the living with its icy fingers. You opened your eyes with a terrified sigh; waking up from the warm and caressing dream you pulled yourself under the covers.

Another day, another task ahead of you.

Wearly, you dressed up before trying to gather your belongings, which you would need shortly.

A scalpel, a knife, gloves and a deep basket soon graced your side as you set off into the awakening forest.

Three days ago, you were approached by one of the most influential merchants in town. His wife caught the chills-fever, which her priests had not been able to cure with any of their treatments. Realizing that needles, prayers and incense would not help here, the nobleman visited you the day before, when the noises of the market in the main square seemed to dull down, when you started packing your goods to go home.

It had been a long time since you were last offered such a sum - too long for your liking. Short of money - and because you would have faced the wrath of a powerful man if you refused - you accepted his offer to heal his spouse.

Early in the morning, when the rooster hadn't even crowed, you were already ready to go collect the ingredients for the potion.

The sharp autumn air crawled over your skin, penetrated your bones and breathed newfound strength into your heart. Listening to the soothing soft melody of the forest, you set off towards its thickets, hoping that you would find enough ingredients for your tonics today. Everything was ready to take care of the sick wife- all you had to do was get the hojicha flower, of which you had run out of stock a while ago.

Pulling your cloak tight around your shoulders, you stepped on the wet moss carpet, careful not to slip on the rutted ground. Soon the ground would start to freeze- you thought as you tried to remember which tree trunk you marked, where you should turn right or left to reach your usual harvesting location.

"If I want to have everything in the winter, I have to collect them in time..." You sighed, stepping over a taller ditch. "Maybe I should look at the market to buy seeds and-"

"To the best of my knowledge, you have to go the other way to the nearest market." A harsh, sharp voice spoke from your left.

You immediately screamed and if the cold didn't do it until now — the stranger who suddenly stumbled here had certainly frozen your blood. The pounding of your heart only made it worse as you spun backwards, trying to face the source of the sound. Your foot slipped and you fell to your knees, hitting a wet log while you turned your head trying to find the source of the sound.

After a while, three men appeared in front of you; one from the nearby bushes, while two crept out from behind the cover of the trees; like wild dogs lurking in wait for their prey.

"The lady must be lost, people can disappear quickly in the forest..." The other man nodded with a vile grin, rubbing his palms together while approaching you.

"Certainly, it is not recommended to walk alone in such remote places at the crack of dawn." The third man took over, turning his attention to the basket lying on the floor next to you. “It's better if we accompany you… so no one attacks you.”

"I didn't, I just-" You stammered, but your voice got stuck in your throat as the three strangers walked closer and closer. Their ragged and dirty clothes, their darkly glistening dreadful eyes ruled out that they were simple wanderers.

You ran into bandits on the road, alone, in the middle of the forest. Your heart was pounding in your throat and kept yelling for you to move, escape, run — otherwise you will take your last breath here forever.

Your eyes darted to your overturned basket – deep inside your knife was glinting in a cold light. If you could be fast enough to get it out of there...Fight for your life. You fight or you die.

But instincts were stronger than reason; the Gods opened a third way for you at that moment.

You pushed yourself away with your hands, your heels digging into the ground hard, almost scraping it up as you jumped up to run away like a chased deer. You could barely feel your legs, could barely breathe as you ran through the trees with all your might, jumping over bushes, rocks, and pits. With your heart in your throat, with the sound of the bandits' steps and shouts in your ears, you kept going forward, not even daring to look back.

Your ability to navigate had left you, you didn't even know if you were running towards or away from them, there was just the feeling that you still had to go, still run, still fight. If you stopped you were dead, if you fell you were dead, if they caught up you were dead.

A huge thorn bush appeared in front of you, too high and wide it would have been almost impossible to jump over it, to get around it; so for lack of a better option you tensed your muscles, pulled your neck in, closed your eyes and ran into the branches, shielding your face with your arms.

The pain that ignited in the darkness flashed through you as a hundred and a thousand spikes dug into your exposed skin; then you felt the ground open under your feet, suddenly you began to fall.

You didn't even have time to cry out when you hit the hard ground with your side.

Lying there injured and exhausted, with a bursting heart, you realized that it was all over.

You just sealed your faith.

Panting and choking from crying, you heard the rustling of the bushes behind you, then the trampling of feet.

"Here's the little slut" One of the men chuckled, but the cheering stopped almost immediately.

You did not dare to look up from the ground, did not dare to move; you were left lying on the ground trembling, awaiting death...

But nothing happened.

Another second, but there was only silence, no more footsteps, no giggles, no shouts.

Blinking away the dirt and blood, you looked from behind your lashes and then realized why you were still breathing.

The attention of the three thugs no longer plagued you. They turned almost motionless, to the left, watching ahead of them.

You followed their gaze and saw that you had fallen on a road. On a road where a fourth stranger was now standing in front of you.

A tall, lanky stranger in blue traveling clothes, the bamboo hat he wore pulled low over his face, obscuring his features.

A stranger with a sword in his hand.

Suddenly everything around you seemed to be silent; the chirping of the birds died away, the trees and twigs no longer creaked and cracked, as if the wind itself had stopped to watch the unfolding scene.

Not wanting to break the silence, you stared at the fourth stranger, holding your breath, wondering what would happen now.

Was that your savior ahead of you? Or was he just a wanderer who didn’t care what troubled others, who would only solve his own problems, regardless of if he made others ill-fated? Maybe you got out of the frying pan into the fire?

"There's nothing to see here." The nimblest bandit growled, a rusty knife in hand. "Everybody's minding their own business, right?"

"This matter belongs only to us and this woman, there is no need to cause difficulties for anyone." The largest one with a long mustache spoke slyly, the one closest to you clutched a heavy cudgel in his fist, his knuckles white from the force with which he gripped it.

The blue-clad stranger didn't answer immediately, instead tilting his head to the side, he peeked out from behind the brim of his hat, flashing his yellow-tinted glasses in the light.

"Looking at you, I suspect you are road thugs." The sword bearer spoke, his voice softer than you would have expected. "You rob those who come here." His words didn't seem like a question.

At this, the third man - the fox with a smile, who had a katana, spat down his side stepping forward in front of his companions.

"If you want good for yourself, you turn back or walk past us without another word." He snapped in his raspy voice, grabbing the hilt of his sword as the other two tensed with their weapons as well.

Barely able to handle the shaking and the hitching of your breath, you lifted your torso off the ground with challenge, turning to the blue-cloaked stranger desperately.

"Please…" Your voice trailed off as sobs broke from you. "Don't let me die, please!" Your voice cracked; hot tears washing away the mud and blood from your face. "Help me, please!"

The lanky stranger moved his arm back, revealing the hilt of his sword as he reached towards it with his right hand.

You inhaled through your teeth when you heard the deep clang of metal and clattering footsteps as the bandits charged towards him.

You dropped back down, pulling your knees to your chest as the battle began. Only daring to watch the scene from the cover of your arm.

The swordsman reached first the blue-clad savior, swinging an upward blow from the left, but his sword met another steel.

The man in the hat drew his sword from the sheath with the speed of a viper, breaking the first attack with almost no effort. Before the thug could react to it, the man was already flying to the ground, his legs entangled as the blue clothed one pushed him away to answer the next blow.

The rusty knife reached him second, and while his companion seized the stranger with his blade, he thrusted his knife towards your helper's neck. The cloaked man shoved the katana wielder away with his foot as he turned his torso to the side, the knife still flying towards him mid air.

Taking advantage of the movement, he turned to the right, placing one raised foot in front of the other, cutting across with his blade in front of him.

In a blink of an eye, red rain shot from the arm of the knife-wielding bandit - the sword almost cut his arm off. He staggered with a sharp wail, then fell to the ground, where he continued to shriek.

The one with a cudgel on the other hand did not attack yet, instead he stopped from a decent distance so the sword of the man in blue could not reach him, seemingly considering his next moves.

But this proved to be only a distraction when the first attacker reappeared, this time springing into action behind your savior's back.

The one in blue could hear this, as he turned to the side keeping an eye on both of his attackers, but then the largest started to move suddenly in order to attack at the same time with his other partner.

Seeing the impossible situation, you already had the mental image of the swordsman slashing your savior while the other beat him to death with the heavy club — you whimpered in terror, burying your face in your arms to shield yourself from the sight.

You heard a shout and the clang of steel meeting again, something heavy falling to the ground. A dull, more watery pounding - the cudgel! Bubbling, frothy snoring- a moan of agony and then silence.

You were next, you were sure of that.

Sharp cuts, bone-crushing blows and then slow, lingering death awaits you.

But there was no movement, not even a single grunt from the fight.

Panting, you raised your head to shorten your wait, but you did not find yourself facing the person you were waiting for.

You caught the gaze of the blue-cloaked stranger. You watched with a dry throat and roaring head as he stood over the three bloodied, dying bandits, his sword still clutched in his right hand.

The bamboo hat was no longer on his head, it probably fell off sometime during the fight when you weren't looking, and now was lying at his feet, waiting to be dusted off and put on again.

But instead, the stranger staggered, his knees buckling as he took two steps forward, finally slumping forward onto the ground, leaving you alone in the field of vigilance.

[n-s4kayaky]

𝒮𝒾𝓇 𝒞𝓇𝑜𝒸𝑜𝒹𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈! (𝒩𝒮𝐹𝒲+𝒮𝐹𝒲)

warnings: Mentions of female reader, not safe for under 18!

a/n: Aside from loving Buggy I love Crocodile, and Mihawk, in general the Cross Guild! So headcanons and stories of these characters are waiting for you, I hope you enjoy it!

Well, this is more than clear! This man will buy and give you all kinds of expensive and luxurious things, what's more, taking away from now will force you to throw away all your old clothes and replace them with the luxurious dresses, skirts and blouses he gives you. If you refuse to throw away your old clothes he won't hesitate to break them with his big hook, before you retort and scold him he'll shut you up by putting a pile of bags and boxes of new clothes in your face. He will enjoy giving you beautiful jewelry to wear on your beautiful body, she will give you lotions and oils with a delicious perfume so that every time she touches and tastes your soft skin smells the sweet aroma that she previously chose for you

Obviously he will give you lingerie equally, and something she won't tell you is that she has chosen a size a little smaller to be able to delight in her tired eyes, your beautiful body and curves being pressed by the luxurious lace, she loves to see how the bra makes your breasts slump due to the lack of space, how your hips are pressed by the beautiful thong that fits so well on you and how those delicious stockings squeeze your beautiful thighs

I think Crocodile is the type of couple who spends most of his time working of course, he doesn't want to get into business or that kind of thing so he prefers that you wait for him at home, once he arrives he will give you affection and love. Despite being a cold and somewhat serious man, he can show his affection towards the person he loves, obviously he will not be cloying by any means; But he reminds you every day how he loves and appreciates you, for him you are a beautiful and undoubtedly unique jewel.

Crocodile will treasure you, as I said you are his beautiful and unique jewel, he will not let anyone look at you and much less touch you, he will protect you and take care of you from anything that torments you and will kill you without any problem if necessary

It is clear that our great mafioso is possessive and jealous at a high point, if there is opportunity and you can accompany Cocrodile to one of his meetings he will have his good hand or hook around your hip at all times, he will even make you sit on his lap while he is having his meeting, he will keep his good hand resting on your thigh and caress this, He will squeeze it gently whenever someone irritates him. The same goes if you go to the casino with it, it will keep its big hook around your waist and keep you glued to it at all times

Apart from making it clear that you are his by keeping his hands on you, he will give you a high quality leather necklace, with several diamonds encrusted to it (If you are not a fan of diamonds and you have another favorite precious gem he will take it very much into account) from the middle of the necklace will hang a large "SC" of Sir Crocodile of solid gold to let everyone know that you are HIS property And no one can lay their filthy hands on your beautiful neck. I even think that she gave you to match the necklace a small gold bracelet with the same initials in small and as a small detail a small accessory in the same shape as her hook only dwarfed

I think that Crocodile, with the passage of time of having a relationship with you, will reach the point of asking you to marry him. He wants to have you as his little wife, to take care of you, to take care of you and to have you just for himself, just like he wants you to be your husband so that he is the only important man in your life and the only one who can love you as he does. On the day he declares he will take you to a luxurious restaurant and in the privacy of your VIP lounge he will come up to you, take out of his pocket a beautiful gold ring encrusted with jewels and drop the big question. Your wedding would be private, I don't think Crocodile will invite many people on his side, some important people from his social circle and will allow you to invite your family if that's what you like. It won't be a big celebration; But she'll certainly be luxurious, she wants to show you how much she cares about you and how much she loves you

I think that for him your thighs, breasts and butt serve as a de-stressor, as long as they get on his nerves and you are there he will take some part of the aforementioned and squeeze and massage it as if it were a de-stressing ball

Over time Crocodile will trust you enough to let you clean his big hook and even take it off when he is alone with you, he knows that you are not going to hurt him, in fact with you he feels a calm that he has never had before. Apart from letting you clean his hook he will allow you to gum and comb his hair in his characteristic hairstyle, although yes, he will not let you use a comb, he wants you to comb his hair back with your little fingers, he loves the feeling and will close his eyes totally relaxed while he lets out small grunts of satisfaction

He loves baths, especially if they're with you. You will have a great, but GREAT bathtub in which you let it fill to the top with crystal clear water, so it will be fine; But if you like to add some salts, oils, soaps or bath bombs to the water, it will certainly allow you to do so. That tub is so big that water will easily reach your neck, that's why it always grabs you by the waist and will sit you on its big lap. While you take a bath he won't stop kissing your sensitive neck, plus his hand will wander over your soft skin, baths usually end with a delicious fuck ;)

I think Crocodile has a slight insecurity with the scar on his face, he's not the kind of person who would cry because of such insecurity but he does often not feel like seeing his reflection in the mirror. That is why if you kiss and caress that scar will be supported by your affection, the insecurity will disappear and without a doubt his love for you will grow

OBVIOUSLY, if you ask your big man to lend you his huge, warm coat, he'll give it to you without any objection. It will definitely look huge on you, that's why Crocodile will let out a little laugh when he sees your small body with his big coat

We all know that Crocodile, as its name says and does it justice, has crocodiles, that's why if you ask him with puppy dog eyes to let you pet the big reptiles he will end up giving in. Obviously at first he won't leave you out of a slight fear that something will be done to you; But after many pouts and supplications it will allow you to be with the big animals but with their constant vigilance and caution. It ends up being that your pets behave like big dogs that seek your attention and caresses.

Well, the way I think Crocodile smells is that it definitely smells like a cigar, just like some Whiskey and of course a highly expensive cologne smell with a strong masculine aroma

I think this great man has a great fetish for getting you pregnant. The mere thought of filling you with her great burden and that she will get you pregnant, that you are going to be the carrier of her child, that your beautiful body begins to gain weight, that your belly becomes bigger and that your breasts become heavier and full of breast milk undoubtedly puts it to a hundred, That's why she loves being able to inside your warm inner

It's clear that Crocodile while he's in a meeting with you on his lap will start joking with you, his hand will squeeze your thighs and go up to your pussy, caress it over your luxurious underwear that he gave you until he gets completely soaked in your arousal, he will push the fabric aside and play with your delicate pussy, Sticking his big fingers in and out of you while smoking his cigar like it's nothing, even though mentally he's praying that this stupid meeting is over and he can fuck you properly, even though he wouldn't mind taking you right there in front of everyone. Obviously, while playing with your pussy, he will give you the command to stay quiet the moment you let out a louder than normal moan he will stop abruptly, leaving you with the desire and the needy pussy. Eventually, at the end of the meeting, he will continue with his work and fuck you properly

Part of sticking his fingers into your pussy while you're in a meeting will make you sneak down under the table in front of him and he'll pull out his big cock, silently giving you the command to suck it. While you're doing your work under the table, Crocodile will keep his serious side in front of everyone while smoking; But inside of him he's holding back so he doesn't grab your beautiful hair and fuck your tight throat. It's true that he'll sneakily grab your hair and force you to swallow more, but it won't be as brutal as when you're alone

I believe that even if you have a loving relationship, in private and in bed you have a Master/Submissive relationship. You will have your rules and punishments as well as games and so on

Speaking of punishments, the one that Crocodile would use the most with you would be spanking, he would not use any punishment shovel, his big hand is enough for him. He will keep you lying on his thighs with your butt up while he hits it with his wide hand, he will stop once he sees your beautiful ass completely red and with marks of his hands, he will be more than satisfied to see the beautiful work of art that is in front of him, you lying between his big thighs, with the butt up and completely red with the marks of his big hand, Even in the underwear that's wet and ruined by your dripping pussy

Wearing common underwear for yourself is over as you entered Crocodile's life, from now on you will wear high ranges of lingerie sets, which will be mostly black and green, some will have a buckle with Crocodile's initials, a small detail that he himself had made. You have many pairs of lingerie and you will be giving more every day, why? Simply, usually Crocodile rips them off and smashes with his hook in the urge to fuck you. He always repeats that he doesn't mind breaking it, he will always give you another pair

Crocodile is a marking man, he will bite your soft skin until it turns purple or red, he will slap your butt until your buttocks are with the mark of his hands embedded in it. He will bite your delicate thighs and suck them until they are full of marks and more than once he has fantasized about extinguishing his cigar on your delicate body as a personal brand, he will ask your permission at first, he appreciates you very much and does not want to scare you, if you give him your approval he will not take long and will press the burning tip of his cigar on some visible part of your body

Due to its LARGE size, Crocodile takes its beautiful time to stretch properly, being able to stand for several hours with its big fingers buried in your extruded pussy, opening up your rubbery walls while taking you more than a vaz to the top of the weather. After an hour of pure orgasms thanks to her skillful fingers, comes the main event

Crocodile is the type of person who would like to try BDMS with you, after all you have a Master/submissive relationship. It will make a contract and everything where you confirm your consent and where you put your risks and safe word. The moment he is doing something that makes you uncomfortable and you don't like it, if you say the safe word he will stop right away, ask if everything is okay and comfort you while repeating that he will not do it again and that he regrets having done something you do not like

Many times, when you go to meetings or even to the casino with him, he orders you not to wear any type of underwear. More than once you've gone with your beautiful and luxurious Crocodile dresses to the casino and meetings with nothing underneath, this makes it easier for Crocodile to play with your needy pussy

Crocodile is a deepthroated man, I mean, he loves being able to fit all his fat cock into your tight little throat, forcing you to take him for the good girl you are. He loves seeing your little face full of tears and drool as you choke on his big cock, it certainly makes it harder. It will carefully grab your hair and force you to go deeper while setting a rough and steady pace

Many times he will humiliate you and force you to rub your bare pussy against his big metal hook, he will make you rub your clit against the solid gold arch while watching with delight as you rub your wet pussy against the cold metal of his hook. After you've on this one he'll make you lick it with your beautiful tongue that he loves so much

He drops a BIG but BIG load, you can't imagine what he gets to throw away. It always fills your throat with its warm cum, forcing you to swallow it while you choke a little, just like it always fills your insides, you feel it hit your cervix directly, like knocking it down, until it cums inside you, filling your uterus with its thick seed. Eventually, when it comes out of you, it will stick its fingers in, forcing you to keep its load inside

I think that due to her breeding fetish Crocodile has acquired a special plug which she inserts into your pussy once it is filled with her cum, thus preventing a single drop of her precious cum from coming out of you

Lastly, this man lets out a lot of grunts of pleasure as he hits you like there's no tomorrow. He looks like a beast as he hits you and lets out such grunts, apart from growling he will whisper in your ear with his deep voice "Good girl"

[shellshocklove]

Maybe a blurb about Peter freaking out on trying to find a gift for reader for Christmas cause he waited until the last minute and all reader cares about is that he makes it home safe? 👀

that was the worst christmas ever! | peter parker

pairing: peter parker x female!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: christmas stress, self-deprecating peter, fluff

a/n: ok so hi! It’s been a while. these last few months have been hectic af– like on another level of hectic. i’m trying to get back a little to writing now that things have calmed down a little bit– so this is me dipping my toe into writing again. i hope there’s someone who’ll like this and merry christmas if you celebrate <3 (btw the title isn’t really connected to the story but gold star to the people who recognize the song)

main masterlist / ao3

Slow. Sweaty. Loud.

The buzzing of humming conversations. People’s winter shoes clacking obnoxiously against the tile floor. A distant ‘Ho-Ho-Ho’ from the creepy mall Santa, slapping the thigh of some poor little girl screaming for ‘Mommy’ as the camera flashed with saved memories.

The guilt gnawed at the back of Peter’s neck as he hurried from store to store.

“Sorry, that’s out of stock.”

“If it’s not on the shelf, we don’t have it.”

With every no, Peter’s guilt was starting to mix with panic. His winter jacket was too hot, suffocating him like the thought of you tomorrow morning with no present from him to unpack. He knows he fucked up. Who in their right mind buys his girlfriend her Christmas present on Christmas Eve?

Peter Parker– that’s who.

He didn’t intend to leave it to the last minute – it just happened! He swears!

With a sigh and a shaky hand running over his face, Peter fished out his phone from his pocket. Entering the notes app, he felt his stomach start to turn. Reading over your wish list, he scrolled to the bottom where he hovered his thumb over the red x emoji. Ready to mark himself a boyfriend failure.

Suddenly, his phone came alive in his hands. A picture of your smiling face lighting it up. Guilt’s teeth scratched harder at his neck as he pushed the little green button.

“Hi baby!” Peter greeted, a fake smile spreading over his face even though you couldn’t see him.

“Oh, thank god! Peter– where are you? We’re leaving for your Aunt May’s in half an hour.”

Peter could hear the worry in your tone. He couldn’t help but hear it every time you called. A worry that he wouldn’t answer because something had happened. That he was lying in the street somewhere bleeding out.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut while a hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yes,” he nodded to no one, “I know! I’m-I’m on patrol and I lost track of time– But I’m heading back now.”

“Peter,” you sighed down the phone. Peter stayed quiet, just listening to your breathing. He knew you worried about him – how could you not? You had every right to worry.

When you didn’t say anything, Peter drew a shallow breath, “I know– I’m sorry.” And he meant it – he always meant it – even when it felt like ‘Sorry’ was the word he told you more often than ‘I love you’.

“Peter– It’s okay… It’s okay just– just please hurry home.”

“I love you,” he hurried. A band aid over his bullet wound of disappointing you.

“I know– I love you too, Peter.”

Hot air washed over him as he exited through the revolving door of the mall. Out on the street he didn’t linger long. Busy New Yorkers hurried past him, splashing wet snow with every step. Digging his hands in his pocket, Peter made his way down the avenue while the wind bit at his cheeks.

Aunt May’s hugs were Peter’s favorite. The way she squeezed him just a little too tight, the smell of her signature perfume she’d worn since forever, and the wet kiss placed on his cheek. A few years ago, he’d playfully groaned and rubbed the kiss from his cheek with a roll of his eyes, but now as a twenty-something, he embraced them.

You were late, and it was Peter’s fault, but Aunt May didn’t seem to mind. The apartment looked the same as it did the last time he was here, sans the Christmas decorations and the smell of… cooking? Peter couldn’t believe his own nose as he snuck sneakily into the kitchen, leaving you and Aunt May in the hallway to catch up.

“May! Don’t tell me you actually cooked,” he called out with a disbelieving laugh.

Soon he could hear footsteps approaching before Aunt May passed through the doorway with you in tow. Peter caught your eye. Those kind eyes he always got lost in. He forgot to breath for a second. After three years together, you still managed to steal his breath.

“Damn right I’ve cooked,” Aunt May replied, a teasing lilt to her tone, “Don’t sound so surprised, Peter.”

“I’m not surprised– I’m impressed,” he teased, lifting the lid of one of the simmering pots.

A teasing pinch to his side made him yelp as Aunt May shooed him away from her stove.

Your sweet giggle filled the kitchen and Peter’s heart. He turned his head sheepishly to look at you where you were leaning against the door frame. An overwhelming urge to touch you came over him. You’d dressed up a little, it being Christmas Eve and all, and Peter thought you looked so pretty. Walking over to you he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You looked at him with a smile, one that felt warm around his heart.

“Hi, rude boy,” you teased.

Knitting his eyebrows together he gave you his best fake-offended look, “Hey.”

Your only response was that same sweet giggle he loved to hear. Your eyes were soft, with smiling crinkles around your eyes. He loved when you looked at him like that– so much that he couldn’t help but press a soft kiss to your lips. It was short (to spare Aunt May of your PDA), but still tender. When he leaned back to look at you again your smile had grown even wider.

Aunt May’s dinner was surprisingly good. She’d been diligently watching some cooking show every night and gotten inspired to try to start cooking– for real. So, the dinner was great. The laughter hung in the air the whole night, making Peter almost forget about his earlier failure and nagging guilt.

While getting ready for bed, an idea popped into Peter’s head. He finished brushing his teeth in record speed, spitting harshly in the sink.

“Ew,” you mumbled through toothpaste, “Ook at that ig blob,” you pointed to the toothpaste he’d spat out that stuck to the porcelain. He locked eyes with you in the mirror – your teasing smile through the swipe of your toothbrush.

“Shut up,” he laughed and bumped his hip against yours before wiping the toothpaste away with his finger.

“Just making sure you’re not leaving poor Aunt May to clean up your mess,” you winked after spitting out your own toothpaste.

Sneaking away was the hardest part. You loved to snuggle before bed, never able to fall asleep until you’d laid in his arms and talked for at least half an hour. But Peter was patient – even if his eyelids felt heavier than the train he’d stopped that one time. When he started to hear your breathing start to get heavier and those small noises you always made escaped you; Peter crawled as gently as he could out of bed.

The living room of Aunt May’s apartment was bathed in a soft yellow glow coming from the Christmas tree in the corner. A strange forgotten feeling of the past clouded Peter for a moment. Memories of waking up in the middle of the night to sneak into the living room to see if Santa had come pushed their way to the forefront of his mind. This time though, he had to make sure Santa had left some presents for someone else.

“Who’s next?” Aunt May asked.

Outside a Christmas miracle was falling from the sky shaped as heavy white snowflakes.

“I have no presents left,” Peter said from where he sat at the edge of the lounge chair, his Christmas presents taking up most of the space.

“I have one left,” you said from where you sat pretty on the floor. The plaid pajamas adorning your body matched ones he was wearing. Peter watched with a bated breath as you picked up the homemade envelope.

“To my baby, from Peter,” you read his chicken scratch.

“Aw,” Aunt May cooed from the couch.

Peter had to fight the urge to cringe as he watched you open the envelope. His heart drummed in his chest, and it made him feel ridiculous. Digging your hands into the envelope you pulled out a handful of small paper squares. Watching your eyebrows knit together in confusion, Peter pressed his lips harder together.

“What’s this?” you asked, curious hands picking up a paper square to read. “Oh!” you laughed, slightly embarrassed but still sending Peter a mischievous smile.

“What is it?” Aunt May asked.

“It’s…” you laughed again, eyes dancing over the paper squares.

Curiosity killed the kat – or in this case Aunt May – as she leaned forward to snatch a paper square to read. You jumped at her movements before you chased after her.

“No, May,” you pressed, managing to steal the paper before she could read it, “Read this one instead!” You handed her another paper square before sending Peter a chastising but grateful look.

“Oh, it’s love coupons!” May exclaimed, “That’s such a good gift idea, Peter! So thoughtful of you.’1 movie night where you pick the movie’,” May read loudly from the paper coupon.

Dropping all the coupons back into the envelope, you stood to your feet and made your way over to Peter. You cupped his head in your hands and tilted his head to look up at you. Then you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thank you, Peter,” you said against his lips before placing another kiss to his lips.

“You liked them?” he asked with uncertainty.

You just smiled before you gave him a nod, “I loved them,” you clarified and sealed it with another kiss. When you broke away you wrapped your arms around him to pull him in for a hug. A relieving warmth spread throughout his chest as he nuzzled his face in your neck. He felt you press a tender kiss to the spot behind his ear that made him weak.

“Can’t wait to cash them in,” you whispered in his ear, “Especially the ones who’ll put you on Santa’s naughty list.”

tagged: @hollandweather

© shellshocklove, 2023

[retrozephyr]

KUROSHITSUJI/Black Butler ⚰️keycharms![link below!]

⚰️HELLO EVERYNYAN!⚰️

Kuroshitsuji charms r officially for sale on my kofi:3

Here's Ciel, Sebastian, Grell, and the Undertaker! All with gold bunny hooks and a backside!

Please consider checking out my shop. As of right now I only ship within the US, sorry overseas friends! 💔

My stock is limited but once I see people are buying then I will totally restock

[because-of-a-friend]

A Day At The Library

MASTERLIST

Thanks for the request friend! This is a very cute idea!

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.9k

The call of the guards announcing that Prince Wonwoo is approaching has nearly become a daily occurence in your life. He will stop in your library at any moment, he always does. It used to puzzle you, how often he came. But then you remembered he lived in a castle. The library he had there was sure to never be overwhelmed by any number of books he purchased from your shop.

It also explained why he came so often. That wing of the castle had only just been built. He had plenty of shelves to fill with books. You had found yourself admiring the fact that he came to handpick his own books himself. You knew there were many scholars and tutors within the castle who the prince could have sent out to fill the library instead.

Although, the first time he had come to your little shop, he had come on his own after sneaking out of the castle. You had heard the little bell above your door ding, signaling someone had entered. "Welcome!" you called, "I'll be right with you!" You had quickened your pace in stocking the shelves with a new shipment of the books, wanting to be available for your customer.

You had bent over to grab another stack and stood up only to meet eyes with someone through the shelves. His eyes had widened for a second before his they crinkled in the tell-tale sign of a smile. You let the stack of books collect in your arms as you smiled back, "Hello, there. I'll be right here if you need me!" You assured.

"I'm just looking, but thank you," the man said. You nodded and continued your work. Once the shipment of books had been completely sorted into the correct places, you took your place behind the counter. The man looked carefully at each of the books that made their home in your little shop. Although he gave attention to all of them, you could see his gaze consistently drawn back to a red, leather bound book with gold lettering. It was an astronomy book, one of the most beautiful in the shop. Also one of the most expensive, which was what kept most people from buying it.

But eventually the man picked it up and ran his fingers over it carefully. He gazed so lovingly over the pages that you couldn't help but stare at him with a smile on your face.

"This one, please," he asked, setting the book gently on your counter.

"I'll be sad to part with this one, but I'm happy it has finally found a home," you state, taking the man's coin from his hand.

"You talk about the book as though it's your friend," he chuckled.

"All these books are my friends," you gestured around your shop. "If I didn't think they could be, I'd get rather lonely around here."

The man smiled while taking the small coins he received in change from your hand, "Well feel free to come visit your friend anytime." He held the astronomy book up. "But for now, we must both take our leave." He looked out the shop window at two palace guards passing by then quickly walked in the opposite direction of them.

"Librarian! Librarian!" three children ran into your shop.

"What is it?" you had asked, alarmed by their volume and suddenness.

"What business did Prince Wonwoo have in your shop?"

You had been shocked to learn that it had been the Crowned Prince himself in your shop, mortified that you hadn't realized it was him, and worried after finding out he had snuck out of the castle that day. But then he had started visiting town more often on adventures that had actually been permitted by his parents.

His purchases from the bookshop had given you a journey through the interests of the prince. First it was all astronomy. Then he had gone through a phase of clearing out your poetry section nearly every week. He had dabbled a bit in cartography books. In his current phase, he had been buying up your botany catalogues.

You wouldn't admit it, but you had been stocking up based on what had been sparking his interests.

And Prince Wonwoo would never admit it, but the reason he came to a small bookshop in the town instead of getting someone in the castle to fill his library, was because of you.

Prince Wonwoo felt light and airy as he stepped into your shop to be greeted by your smile, "Welcome, Your Majesty."

"Good afternoon [Y/N]," he gave a smile back, only hoping his could be as radiant as yours. "How is my favorite librarian?"

You laughed softly at the comment, a sound that always made Wonwoo's smile grow even larger. "I'm doing better than ever. The future of my bookshop is promised since it has become the main vendor for a certain prince."

Wonwoo hoped he wasn't blushing. "Well that's a relief. I would be quite disappointed if this place were to shut down." He was already amongst the shelves of books. He noticed that you had already restocked the botony shelf, the fact made the tips of his fingers tingle. He reached immediately for one with light green binding.

"I figured you would like that one," your sweet voice sang through the shelves of the shop. "It includes plants out of our region. I thought you might have enough books documenting our native selection."

Wonwoo flipped through the pages, his eyes taking in the sights of flowers he couldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams. "I do like it," he confirmed. He paused before deciding to take a bit of a risk. "I also like having a librarian that seems to cater so carefully to her clients." There was silence for a moment, Wonwoo felt his heartbeat all the way down to the tip of his toes.

"I do my best," you responded, a laugh accompanying your words. You always laughed around him, that was good, right?

"You wouldn't happen to have a zoology section?" Wonwoo asks, the light green book now held firmly in his grip. It would certainly be going home with him.

"Zoology now, huh?" you call, stretching your arms to stock books on the highest shelves.

"My professor was telling me of incredible creatures from other lands. It sparked an interest, I suppose," Wonwoo offers shyly. You appear from around a bookcase, ever-present smile on your face.

"Exotic zoology. My, what incredible studies our prince takes part in," you say. Wonwoo notices that your tone is not one of mocking, but of genuine praise and awe. He uses an imaginary scratch on the back of his head as excuse to duck down. Hopefully it will keep you from noticing the way his face flushes. "I figured this was coming, so..."

Wonwoo watches as you walk a few bookshelves over and then place yourself in front of a specific section. He tries not to read too much into how you seem to already have books in mind for him as you pluck them from the shelves. There's three books in your arms making a sizable stack of themselves as you make your way back too them.

There's a thick one with deep black leather bound to it, "This one covers just about everything. Although, it is a more difficult read. I haven't forgotten that you like a challenge."

Next there's a red one. Slightly muted in pigmentation compared to the astrology book he first bought, but still beautiful, "This is exotic animals."

The last is a light yellow one. Wonwoo thinks every time you pick a book for him, the cover becomes his favorite color. He's commissioned several paintings based on the hues you've made him see. "This one is local fauna, since I know you'll want it eventually." He had been careful taking the other two books from you. But after you explained the third, he let his finger slide over yours as he accepted it.

You don't react, just smile at him the way you always do.

Wonwoo doesn't know what this means, but he hopes to find out.

The seasons pass and Wonwoo finds subject after subject to study. In reality, his professors have told him many times that he is a well-rounded student who is knowledgable on many subjects. But he insists that he needs to learn more. There's always more and there are still empty library shelves.

After some time, Wonwoo's parents send his professors off to take a break. Wonwoo is devastated. His parents think he may really just love learning that much. But truthfully, Wonwoo now has no excuse to go to the librabry without subjects to learn. He stares at the number of empty shelves in his own library. He can find one, he's sure.

The shop door dings as someone enters. "What is it today?" you say as you see the prince's ruffled black hair. "Are we off of local history and onto history of foreign lands? Or have we moved off of history entirely?"

"I actually came for fiction today," he grins.

You pause dramatically in your movements, "I'm sorry? Our prince of many interests is looking for simple fiction?"

Wonwoo laughs before he nods, "I'll need much to entertain myself while my professors take an extended break."

"Then let me introduce you to all of my favorites," you say excitedly. Wonwoo has the largest stack of books that he's ever had in your store by the end.

"You have a lot of favorites," Wonwoo admires each and every title, excited to follow behind you on the adventures you've taken before.

"Well I wouldn't keep a shop full of books if I didn't like them," you shrug. You take a moment to study Wonwoo and the pile. "Would you like help taking those back?" His head snaps up. "I don't mean to intrude," you back off immediately, "it's just a lot for one person to carry."

"Oh I didn't feel any intrustion. I was just surprised," his expression softens as he realizes he looks like he took offense. "Technically visitors are only allowed in the palace on invitation from the King and Queen."

"Ah, I understand," you stew with him in silence for too long. "Well you could also store some here for the time being and take them back overtime. I don't mind holding them for you. You could even read them here if you like."

"That's a nice offer."

"Well, we should enjoy it while it lasts, right?"

"What do you mean 'while it lasts?'" Wonwoo looks concerned up at you.

"Once your library is filled, you won't be coming around here anymore," you share a look with him. "I hope I'm not out of line if I say that I will miss your company when that day comes."

Wonwoo feels content. He has his answer. You gave it to him willingly. Without saying words. Without him having to ask.

"Well you don't have to worry about that," he says nonchalantly.

"Oh?" you inquire.

"No, I mean, once my librabry is complete, I'll need someone to help me tend to it," Wonwoo hesitates before he lays his hand over yours where it rests on the books. The ones you handpicked just for him.

"If I didn't know any better," you say, "I'd say you wanted to keep me around for awhile longer."

"Yes [Y/N], I'd like to keep you around for as long as possible."

[desmond69miles]

An Artists Eye

I don't know why but every time I try to update a post it doesn't work until I do it three times?? Boo. This isn't exactly how I wanted it to turn out but I'm semi-happy with the finished work, soooooo have fun.

I'm working on a 'part-two' (it's more of a part one, it takes place before this). Not sure when it will be posted, but it'll be out sometime. (Read it here!)

Arno finds your sexual drawings and offers to live them out with you.

AO3 LINK

Warnings: Fluff and smut, Google translated French, oral (r receiving) fem!reader, vaginal sex/fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (I hate that word), grinding/dry humping.

Word count: 3,491. It's been awhile since I wrote something this long.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Three years ago, you had the pleasure of Arno knocking you over. The streets of Paris had been bustling one fall morning, and you were late to a client meeting, scuttling down the street with your sketches haphazardly secured in your arms. You weren't looking - or maybe you were but didn't process it in time - when a man walked straight into you. It was somewhat theatrical--your papers flew up as you fell down. The man immediately bent down to help collect your sketches while muttering apologies, but it was too late; a good majority of your work had fluttered straight into a muddy puddle you narrowly missed. 

As the brunette picked up what papers were still preserved, you worked on dusting yourself off. Once the two of you stood, you finally looked at the man's face, one of his gloved hands moving to push his hood back. "Je suis vraiment désolé, madame," he said, "I'll buy you a new stack of sketching papers." You blinked at his offer - somewhat distracted by his handsome face - and politely rejected it. "Non, c'est bon. I wasn't looking where I was going." The man nodded and handed you back your work, dismissing himself with a slight nod and smile before disappearing back into the crowd. You stood there for a few seconds while people passed you, their shoulders occasionally bumping yours, and you moved to put the papers in your messenger bag. 

A few days later, the man randomly arrived at your door around eleven at night. When you opened the door, you were no less than shocked - he actually brought you a new stack of sketch paper! Then you asked yourself, how did he find my house? "Bonsoir Madame," he said. His brown eyes danced over your face, the same you had done when he knocked you over, and he extended his hand with the cartridge paper that was wrapped in a thin cloth to keep from dirtying. You take it from him, and your mouth flubbed open in search of some words. Finally, you decided on nothing more than an awkward "Merci... May I get your name?" The man chuckled, "Arno Dorian, and yours, madame?" Arno repeated your name once you said it, nodding along in confirmation. He left after denying your offer for coffee with a goodnight, and after you returned to your sofa, you undid the covers to the paper. 

A small card with a fancy gold trim sat on the stock. You turned it around and looked at the fancy swirls of writing--If you wish for more paper, run into me at Café Théâtre. You couldn't help the wide smile that formed on your face. 

Now, it will be your and Arno's second anniversary in a day.

You sat in front of your easel that held up your latest work, and one of your hands mixed up a beautiful blue on the wooden pallet held by your other hand. It was seven-ish, the sun hazily setting in the dimming sky, and the warm air of summer blew through the open windows of Arno's chambers. The ambient buzz of crickets and the fuel of early nightlife gave way to your soft humming of a lullaby. Occasionally, you'd hear the claps from the Cafe down below, a recitation of Hamlet playing tonight, and you've seen the show so much that you found yourself rehearsing the lines to yourself every so often. Your fingers plucked through your paintbrush jar until you found a suitable one and began to paint the shading colors of Arno's coat. Shading was the last thing that needed to be done, an easy task that could be completed quickly.  

Arno was indeed your favorite subject to draw. Often, when you found yourself unable to sleep, you sketched him while he was resting--or when you found yourself with free time, you drew his body's familiar lines and curves in practice. Sometimes, these anatomical figures found themselves in... precarious positions, such as in nude drawings. Those were your personal favorites, your sexual admiration for him going past just intercourse, but that sketchpad had been stowed away in the very back of your closet in a box. Hiding your drawings wasn't something you liked; you were proud of your work, and you didn't shy away from drawing nude bodies. In fact, Élise's favorite work of yours was of a sexually deviant nun she had nicknamed 'The Sin.' But, you always hesitated to show Arno the drawings and paintings you have done of him. Neither of you was sure why; you argued they weren't perfect, and Arno argued you were worried that he'd judge (in truth, you were a little more than embarrassed to show the numerous sexual positions you had put your lover and yourself in through pencil). 

However, you decided to face that embarrassment with your second anniversary, hence your eagerness to finish this portrait of your lover. Hours had ticked by reasonably quickly, and soon enough, you heard the grandfather clock chime twelve times, indicating the strike of midnight. You pause to look over your final work and give a more than satisfied smile, grabbing the canvas sheet you had and covering the painting so Arno didn't see it (you also had to make sure he didn't peek; he seemed fond of doing that). Your hands had been stained with colors, and your apron had a few new splotches--you didn't mind, but you still hung up your apron carefully for washing and quickly scrubbed your hands clean. 

With your hands a tad bit achy from the repeated holding of brushes, you stripped yourself of the painter's gown. You didn't even bother with a chemise or undergarments and instead grabbed one of Arno's button-up shirts that had a smear of purple paint. The mark was seemingly impossible to get out of the cotton, so he had unofficially gifted it to you, telling you that he'd wear it if you ever wanted to fling paint at him again. You grabbed one of the two pillows Arno claimed and tucked one between your thighs for comfort--the pillow usually replaced by his thigh. That, sadly, was the reality of being with an assassin; most nights, he wasn't around to fall asleep with. Thankfully, it seemed like you always woke up in his arms, your lover either sleeping soundly or admiring you. 

You heard the chime of 12:30 on the grandfather clock before you shut your eyes for the night and fell asleep. 

Awaking in the morning was a chore. The bed was so warm, cradling you like your mother did when you were a babe, and when you shuffled to get comfortable, an arm tightened around your waist. A knowing smirk cast onto your lips - Arno was back and pressed tightly to you. "Arno," you whisper, quiet enough so he could hear if he were awake. No response. Good, you hoped he was asleep - allowing you to get up and prepare your present for him. 

So, carefully, to not wake him up, you moved Arno's arm from off of you and gingerly rolled out of bed, slowly standing up so as not to make the wood creak. Once your feet were planted on the cool floor, you stretched fully before walking away from the bed. Your easel still sat in the same position with the canvas sheet covering it; the oak stool pushed out to the side with a dirty jar of brushes resting on top of it. You noted that Arno had closed the windows and drawn the curtains, only slivers of sun peeking through. You first moved to open them just a tad so the chambers would be more illuminated--mainly so you wouldn't topple over something. Then, you moved over to your easel. 

You took a deep breath and hoped that it looked okay after drying. Your hands gently took the cover off, and for the second time, you smiled proudly, hands clasped together. It wasn't alright; it was... almost perfect. Something was missing, and you couldn't put your finger on it. Then, it dinged in your brain. The drawing of us! You made your way back to the bed, but instead of getting in, you opened the dresser beside it and rummaged around until you found your trusted sketchbook. You flipped through it until you found the page already torn out and signed with a small love note. You paused, though, and your tummy did a flutter.

You forgot about this drawing. It was one of the first sexual ones you drew, a rather raunchy drawing of none other than Arno laid on his stomach, arms wrapped around a faceless woman's thighs and his face pressed to her cunt. This was still when you were too ashamed to draw yourself in these drawings - hence the faceless woman - but it made you fuzzy. 

It wasn't like you and your boyfriend never had sex; quite the opposite. Many nights you had been spent on the bed, Arno deep inside you while some serious French kissing went on (not to mention the time when Arno's mentor had walked in on you deepthroating the brunette's cock in none other than the Assassin's base under Cafe Theatre, but you're too embarrassed to talk about it. You still get hot when you hear Bellec calling Arno 'pisspot'). While you've had amazing sex, you've never got the confidence to ask for oral. Arno offered it, but you said no; what if you taste bad or do something Arno doesn't like? The thought of a mouth down there always intimidated you, but that doesn't mean you haven't fantasized about it. 

You were so caught up in staring at the drawing that you jumped when a loud crash came from outside, dropping the sketchbook onto the floor. "Merde," you almost immediately cussed, recoiling your foot from the damage of your toes being hit by the journal. It was enough to wake Arno up, and while you bent down to retrieve the book, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Everything alright, cherie?" He said, and you were startled like you were caught doing something bad. "Oui, sorry to wake you." Arno gave you an understanding smile, sliding to the edge of the bed and leaning forward to find your waist. You tucked the sketchpad to your chest as he pulled you in for an embrace, his face resting between your shoulder blades. 

"What were you drawing?" Arno muttered, and you tensed for a moment. "Sketches, love, it's nothing too important." You replied, and he hummed. "Everything is important when made by you." You didn't protest when his hand snaked from your hip up to your hands, his fingers grasping the edge of the book and pulling it free. His head moved back but still rested against you, and you heard him chuckle. Your face warmed, and for a moment, you willed the floor to open up and swallow you or for you to turn into a gnat and fly away. 

"Is this woman you?" He asked, and you quietly said no. "Then you envision me eating another woman out?" You let out a defeated breath, shoulders slumping. "Non, it is me." 

"But you did not draw your face?"

"It was awkward."

"Ah, then we should make it less awkward. Experiencing it may give you confidence."

Your head turns to peer at him from behind your shoulder. He has a cheeky grin that he knew he was doing - and you chewed your lips. "It's our anniversary, too. How will I marry you if I've never tasted you?" You blinked and chose to ignore the marriage comment, but as he pulled you into his lap, you knew you weren't getting out of this one too quickly. "I've heard from other women that it's relaxing if that quells your worry." One of his hands slides up your thigh and rests near the apex of your legs, thumb rubbing small circles into your flesh, and he kisses your cheek. You turn your body, legs swinging to rest on the bed and lean into Arno. He gives you a sweet look, brown eyes filled with what could only be described as love, and kisses your lips. He didn't get far once he pulled away; your hand brought him back in.

Your fingers undo the red ribbon, keeping Arno's hair tied while he bites your bottom lip teasingly. Once his hair was free and you could run your fingers through it, you allowed his tongue to slip past your lips and tangle with his. He tasted faintly of expensive red wine, and you drank the groan he let when your nails scratched his scalp. The hand resting on your thigh slid under the shirt you wore, warm fingertips running over your curves. Your noses bumped accidentally when you moved to tug on the buttons of his nightshirt, and neither of you went too far from the other. Your breaths still mingled as his hands aided yours in tugging his shirt off, the fabric falling onto the floor. Arno then moved both of you, so now you were lying against the pillows with your lover hovering above you. You exchange soft, loving smiles, eyes studying each other. Your hands ran down Arno's arms and rested against his wrists.

"Do you want to try oral?" He asked, genuinely curious, and you pondered. "Will you go slow?" You query, and you get your answer with the gentle, warming kiss Arno places against your forehead and then lips. His hands grab a pillow you are not resting on, and he says to lift your hips. You comply without question, and Arno slides the pillow under your butt, then moves your thighs apart so he can adequately slot himself in between them. The pillow gave a perfect angle for his hips to slot against yours, his semi-hard cock pressed into your inner thigh, and you could feel the wettening of your folds. 

His lips find yours for a small kiss before he moves to your neck, sucking in a few light marks that can be hidden, and one of his hands trails down your body to your stomach, resting there patiently until you give the go-ahead. The attention placed on your pulse point made you let out a quiet whimper, and you circled your arms around Arno's shoulders so you could tug his body closer to yours. His bodily warmth was nothing short of what you called home, the south trail of his hand at your happy whisper of 'more,' the press of his thumb against your clit--it gave an almost sentimental feel. 

There was loving, and then there was loving. 

And he loved you like you loved him. 

The way Arno loved you was nothing short of amazing? Spectacular? supercalifragilisticexpialidocious? There was no word for the way he treated you. 

After slicking his fingers in your cunt, he pressed a final kiss to your lips before descending your body, leaving kisses every place he could reach. You shifted awkwardly once you two were positioned like the drawing--Arno on his stomach, his cheek pressed into your thigh, hands holding your legs apart. You did have to admit that it was an ego boost to see your lover between your legs with such a hungry look in his eyes. Arno pressed a kiss to where your thigh meets your leg, impossibly close to your cunt, and you felt his breath over your puffy clit. It caused you to shift your hips, a hand coming to rest on his, and Arno peeked up at you from his position. 

Your insides became mush--there was absolutely no right for him to look heavenly, and you moaned as his index finger teased against your slit. "Do you want me to?" Arno asked, dipping his finger inside, teasingly curling in a way that he knew wouldn't feel terribly pleasurable. You debated--a new experience and most likely an intense orgasm, or you'll have to listen to your girlfriends rave about cunnilingus without knowing what to say next time you all met up. Most, if not all, your nerves of appearance had vanished and instead replaced by the anxious want of indulgence. Arno pushed his finger deeper, pulling back and repeating those actions slowly, awaiting your response. 

"Mhm, oui. I'd like you to." 

Arno smiled, and when he exhaled, you wiggled at the cool air against your warm cunt. "Merci," he hummed and leaned in, pressing his lips to your clit. Arno was gentle at first, careful not to overwhelm you. The rough pad of Arno's tongue pressed flat against your clit, and he let you move your hips, allowing you to draw your pleasure in what felt good. Once he thought that you had enough of a taste, his hands moved to your hips and pushed them down into the pillow. Your hands moved between Arno's resting ones or his head, moaning loudly when he sucked your clit with fervor. "Dieu," you exasperatedly said. Your thighs closed around Arno's head, not tight enough to hurt him but snug enough to keep him there, eyes closing when the tip of the pink muscle drew figure eights on your cunt. His finger slipped back in, this time pumping with a little more vigor, and when he curled them just right, that beautiful edge came into feel. 

"S'il te plaît, oh mon Dieu, s'il te plaît," you whined and swore you could feel Arno smile into you. Your hips rocking against his face as well as your thighs clamped tight around his head, caused a slight burn from his stubble, but, shit, you couldn't care as long as he kept going. Arno's lips move up once again and slurp your clit, and "There, fuck! There, Arno, don't stop!" pours out from you. Another finger adds to your wet hole, and he gives a rough suckle just before you send hurdling over the crescendo of an orgasm. Arno lets you ride it out by grinding on his face, his nose bumping your clit in delicious aftershocks, and you eventually come down enough to release Arno's head from your thighs. 

His head popped up from between your thighs, and he crawled up, bouncing down onto the bed beside you. One of Arno's hands rested on your stomach, and he asked, "How was it?" You gave a weak chuckle, "Le meilleur, fuck, the best." 

"Another round?" He suggested. 

"Always another round." You enforce. 

Before Arno could move, you crawled on top of him and gently pushed your hips down so your saliva-and-slick-ridden cunt pressed perfectly against his hard cock. He gave that devilish smirk, hands finding your waist to push the nightshirt over your head, and you moaned as his hips met yours with equal enthusiasm. In more-or-less semi-clothed dance, you rocked against each other until Arno's hands slowed you, one going to slightly push you back just so he could free himself from his now wet undergarments. The fabric didn't get farther than his knees before you scooted back up and took him in your hand, running the head of his cock through your folds. After a few teasing passes, his tip catches your hole, and you slowly - yet easily - sink onto him. Once your lower half was pressed against his pelvis once more, Arno gave a few shallow thrusts and cupped one of your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh and playing with your nipple. 

A few more seconds passed, and with a quick kiss to Arno's forehead, you tensed your thighs, hands pressing against his chest, and you began to set a steady rhythm of riding him. Your lover met your thrusts halfway with quick motions that effectively created a shlick shlick when either of you moved. The friction inside you felt good but just not enough to reach climax again, and Arno knowing this, moved his fingers to rub small circles against your clit. Arno cursed and rolled his head back onto the pillows. You watched his Adam’s apple bob with each thick swallow, and his thrusts became unsynced--a tale tail sign of impending orgasm. 

With a few more messy thrusts, Arno pulled your hips flush to his and spilled deep inside of you. The warmth of his cum had made you unexpectedly orgasm, toes curling as you moaned. You stayed still and savored the moment, your spine failing to keep you upright, so you lay down on Arno's chest instead. Arno rolled over onto his side and took you with him, grabbing the closest blanket and covering you both up to keep from getting cold. 

"Je t'aime," Arno whispers against your hair, and you softly hummed. "Je t'aime plus," you countered, but he won the battle with an "I love you the most." 

"I peeked at the painting," he said after a peaceful silence, "I love it. You'll have to paint me nude next time."

[merakiui]

we have discussed clingy, codependent boyfriend azul, but now allow me to present to you: scummy, sleazy floyd.

(nsfw + female reader)

scummy, sleazy floyd who you meet at some club deep in the shadowed corner of the city. he smells of alcohol and cigarette smoke, and he’s leering lasciviously as he leans against the bar, blocking your view of another guy who’d been attempting to strike up conversation. he doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s interested, and you only let him stay because he keeps you on your toes with his witty and blunt retorts. you tell him you’re not looking for a quick fuck and his lips spread in an easy grin and he answers with: “and i’m just here to hold hands and make friends.”

he buys you a drink; you gaze at the flashy silver and gold adorning his fingers when he passes the cocktail to you. some of those rings look expensive: bejeweled with the brightest gemstones and glittering with sterling silver. his sleeves are rolled up; he’s got tattoo sleeves of what looks to be various marine creatures, all predatory with their curling tentacles and sharpened maws. his ears are pierced, too, and so is his tongue. not that you’re looking at his lips, but when he smiles his entire face lights up. one moment he looks pure and sweet with his broad grins; the next he looks as if he’s just undressed you with his gaze alone. and under the dim, sensual neon lighting, something about the latter look has you rubbing your thighs together in anticipation.

you talk to him as you drink. horrifyingly enough, he’s good company. you almost wish you’d come with a friend so you could have an excuse to leave. it’s not that you’re uncomfortable. it’s just that you weren’t expecting to find someone here who’d genuinely listen to you—and not just so he can wheedle you into sex! he’s a rare specimen, or maybe you’re just too buzzed to see through the deceptively appealing haze that’s fallen over him.

“so why are you still here?”

“cuz you’re fun to talk to.”

“but don’t you want to fuck?”

“do you?” he smirks at your flustered sputtering. “don’t ask for somethin’ you don’t want.”

“huh…”

“you’re cute.” it catches you off guard, but then so does the nickname he throws out next. “like a little shrimp. think i’ll start callin’ ya shrimpy from now on.”

“please don’t.”

“too late.”

you quirk an amused smile and reach out to shove him away. he doesn’t budge. not that you put any force into it. you don’t want him to leave. not yet.

“you never gave me your name.”

“ya never asked.”

“okay, smooth talker, what’s your name?”

he smiles, gleeful mismatched eyes flicking to your fingers as they curl around the handle of your empty glass. he gazes at you next. “floyd.”

“nice to meet you, floyd. i’m (name).”

“s’pretty, but i still think shrimpy sounds better.”

you roll your eyes and angle your body so that you’re facing him entirely. you know you’ve been sitting here for quite some time now because suddenly he’s the only one you want to look at. maybe it’s the alcohol, but you feel so stupidly incoherent when you stand on unsteady legs. it takes you a moment to balance on the wedge platforms, and floyd offers a muscled arm for you to lean on. you grab it and squeeze his bicep out of drunken curiosity. he’s strong…

he’s eyeing your mini skirt and fishnet stockings with sharp eyes. you know it’s bad news; you know you shouldn’t get carried away like this, especially since you just came out of a very vanilla, very normal, very non-sexual romance. but that relationship didn’t work out; this one…is different. it’s not a relationship. it’s a hook-up. it’s temporary. it’s not permanent.

your eyes tell him all he needs to know. he giggles as he guides you through a tight hall to the bathroom. the music is a muffled hum now, bass reverberating through your rib cage as if it’s a heartbeat. impatiently, he pushes you into a stall, not bothering to lock the door. you scramble for purchase when he shoves you up against the wall. it’s been graffitied with all sorts of nonsense: magicam usernames, some circled and others crossed out, phone numbers, dirty words, incoherent scribbles of poorly drawn penises… it’s filthy and you wouldn’t fuck even your worst enemy in a place as horrid as this, but tonight it feels right.

you fumble to grab his shoulders while his hands hike your mini skirt further up your hips. it feels fast and slow all at once. is this happening? are you even alive right now? did you pass out from the alcohol? is this a dream? his voice brings you back to earth next.

“changed your mind?” he teases, pressing his thumbs into your sides to gauge just how plush your waist is. and from what he’s feeling he seems to approve, for he squeezes you playfully. the coolness of his rings settles your overheated nerves.

“s-shut up…”

“ya ever had sex before?”

it takes a long minute for you to process that, but once you do you hurry to respond. “of course i have!”

“liar.”

“’m not,” you mumble, shaking your head.

“yeah, yeah. lemme guess. you want it, but you’re too scared to take it.”

“…not true.”

he barks out a laugh. “ya serious? really? that’s it?”

you push his face away. he’s still laughing.

“that’s not true!”

“ya ever use any toys?” at your limp shrug, he throws his head back and whistles. “man. why’re you even here? what’s an inexperienced thing like you doin’ in a club?”

you stare hard at the floor, suddenly ashamed. “i… i wanted to lose it…tonight…”

or something like that.

“don’t ya have someone special who can take it? not that i ain’t special, but ya know… s’different. a partner or somethin’ like that.”

“there’s no one.”

floyd hums as if he’s considering something before promptly lowering to his knees. he doesn’t seem to mind the sticky floor, but then he’s more focused on the space between your legs. he winks when he catches your gaze, lips peeling to reveal rows of sharp, pearly teeth.

“then i’d better treat ya extra special tonight.”

you don’t object. he wasn’t expecting you to.

maybe if you were more sober and level-headed you might find the sensation unusual. but his tongue (and the cold metal of his accompanying piercing) feels so unfathomably good against your clit. he braces himself against your legs, strong hands wrapped firmly around your thighs as if they’re garters. his nose is buried in your crotch while he angles his head to lave his tongue over your slick pussy, leaving you a shuddering, gasping mess above. you grab at his hair, tugging teal strands to keep yourself afloat amidst inebriation and waves of tantalizing pleasure, each crashing into you as if you’re a poor, fragile sailboat on a vast, tumultuous sea.

he’s the best (and only) fuck you’ve ever had, so when his tongue flashes into your pussy you throw your head back against the stall and wail, your stomach untying its many knots as you come undone. you’re a mess, shuddering and panting, reduced to nothing before something so… so… great? perfect?

something so floyd.

and while you grind against his mouth he laps eagerly at your wetness, unbothered by the shower he just endured. he’s laughing when he pulls away, voice raspy and thick with good-natured mischief.

“shrimpy’s so easy…”

you scowl at him, but it falls apart the moment he licks his lips.

“you’re just too…”

“yeah?” he nods, encouraging you to continue. “too what? you can say it.”

you almost don’t want to give him that satisfaction, but then he’s pinching your clit and you’re melting against the stall. suddenly being vindictive is the least of your priorities.

“t-too good!”

“see? shrimpy knows the right words.” he rises to his feet in the cramped space, shucking his trousers as he goes. they pool at his ankles, momentarily forgotten. you stare at the outline of his half-hard cock against his boxers. “good girl.”

that... wow. okay. that’s…something new. you don’t want it to hit, but it does. and you hate that it does. you try not to let it show, but he’s so eerily perceptive despite all of the carnal lust and physical attraction. how he’s even able to focus all of his attention on you while he lazily works himself in one hand is beyond you, but then you surmise he’s likely had plenty of experience and so by now he knows the basic steps by heart. it hurts a little—that you’re not his first, that you aren’t anyone special to him, that you’re just another body he’s pinned to a dingy stall wall—but you don’t dare let your sentimental feelings spoil the mood.

you watch him roll a condom on one-handed and—god, even his dick is pierced—your anticipation couldn’t be any more palpable. he rocks himself against you, his leaking cock pressed to your stomach. he pokes at an area just above his tip.

“you think it’ll go all the way up to here?” he hums while you try (and fail) to say something coherent. “only one way to find out, yeah?”

“mhm…”

floyd laughs. “don’t go gettin’ dazed on me now, shrimpy. i haven’t even put it in yet!”

he turns you so you’re facing the wall and lifts one of your legs. the position stings for a moment, but then his dick is prodding at your pussy and if you had any doubts now they’re all washed away when he snaps his hips forwards, filling you all at once, so much that the breath is punched out of you and you crumple against the wall. you scramble to grab onto something, but he keeps you plastered to the wall, one hand curled around your waist and the other holding your leg up so that he’s fucking you at an angle. each thrust pushes you up against the stall, and you howl like a mutt in heat, no longer worried about slipping.

it’s so gross. you’re tacky with sweat and your panties are soaked through, and every time he connects his body to yours you can hear the lewd squelching of skin on skin. it’s vile and loveless, but god it’s good. everything about him is temporary; he’s not your forever. you know this, but for tonight he’s your temporary and that feels like a dreamy eternity.

he fucks you like you’re the only one left in this world, and your lashes flutter against your cheekbones, vision whiting out. you shudder through your orgasm, sobbing pleasured relief, and it takes just a few more well-aimed thrusts until he’s spilling hot, groaning lowly in your ear.

he stays pressed to you for a few seconds, rolling his hips slowly as if riding out a glorious high, and you blink rapidly as you return to yourself. he waves his hand in front of you and, stupidly, you reach out and clasp it tight. his fingers entwine with yours. temporary, you remind yourself.

it’s sweaty and sticky and so unbearably hot when he separates himself, slipping out with ease. you almost lower yourself to the ground, exhausted and in need of a bath, so he supports you with one arm while he tugs the now-filled condom off.

floyd peers at you with glazed eyes and leans in to kiss you on the cheek. it’s the cherry on top—a job well done.

“you got a friend nearby?”

“what?”

“someone to pick ya up.” he tries to clean you, balling toilet paper and using it to wipe you down. it doesn’t really work. you still feel filthy even after he’s adjusted your panties and pulled your mini skirt down. it’s the effort that counts, though. “shrimpy’s not really in the right mind.”

“i’m in the best mind, thank you and fuck you!”

“kinda did that last one already.”

he lets you tear yourself away from him. as he observes you clinging to the wall for support, he fits himself back into his boxers and yanks his trousers up.

“gimme your phone.”

“no way. you might do something weird.”

floyd rolls his eyes. “lemme call ya a ride. you need it.”

“ooh, chivalry isn’t dead…”

you pass it to him after fumbling to unlock it. floyd spends an awful long time typing, but before you know it he’s calling someone. you listen to him as he talks, his voice a playful drawl. alcohol aside, he definitely rearranged your guts and your brain. it’s a wonder you’re still conscious.

“hi, jadeee. do me a favor, yeah? will you come pick us up? we gotta drop shrimpy off at her place.” there’s silence; you strain to hear the person on the other side. “nah. s’just a little lady i met tonight. she’s cute. maybe your type if you don’t mind sloppy seconds.” there’s more silence; your skin prickles when you realize he’s talking about you to whoever this jade person is. “kay, so you’ll pick us up?”

the exchange lasts another minute before he’s hanging up and sliding your phone into your pocket. you’re relieved when he tells you he’s found you a ride home because it allows you to mumble your address before you lose yourself to exhaustion entirely. you don’t remember the ride home or how you even got into your apartment or what your roommate said when a mysterious man carried your unconscious body inside like you were a sack of flour he’d slung over his shoulder. but when you wake up the next day, hungover, sticky, sweaty, and still tired, you aren’t spared the details from your roommate. it’s a story you find hard to believe.

you, going out to a club and hooking up? as if. you can hardly fit a dildo inside without tightening up out of fright.

but before you step into the shower, you check your phone for any proof. sure enough, after scrolling through your contacts, there’s a new one. his name is floyd. you stare at the number and it all comes rushing back.

horrified, you text him: why is your number in my phone?

he responds minutes later: thought u might want it.

well i don’t want it.

then delete it :p i’m not stopping u, he writes back.

you stare at his message long enough for those three dots to return.

he sends another message: gonna take a guess and say u wanna keep me in ur phone :)

you hate that emoticon. there’s nothing to smile about.

i’m going to delete you after my shower!

we’ll see

you shut your phone off. you hate that you allowed yourself to get so swept up last night, but most of all you hate that he’s right. you do want him to stay. at least now you have a means of staying in touch. not that you’ll utilize it! but…

it never hurts to talk every now and then, right?

[mrepstein]

The Flat That Epstein Bought - Liverpool Echo - July 11, 1964

HOME - with the man behind the Beatles, Gerry and the Pacemakers, Cilla Black, Billy J. Kramer, etc, etc.

Reported by Barbara Anne Taylor

---

I don’t want to brag or cause any jealousy, but I used to queue for the Saturday matinee at a cinema that was next to a furniture shop that was called Epstein and Son and that Epstein’s other son manages the Beatles.

And that is as exciting as dancing with a man who danced with a girl who danced with the Prince of Wales.

The other son is Brian, who has in his time pursued many careers until he found his present crock of gold. He did originally embark, with no lack of enthusiasm, on a career in his family’s furniture business.

CRAFTY CHERUB

“I was 21 at the time,” said Mr. Epstein, who looks like a sharp-clothed, crafty cherub, “and extremely interested in design and interior decorating - still am. I served,” he added stoically, “my apprenticeship with the Times Furnishing Company in Liverpool.

“I was fanatically keen on what I regarded as contemporary at the time. I felt quite a missionary zeal about it, so I wasn’t fired with enthusiasm about the furniture in my father’s shop. It all looked to me like greasy great walnut bedroom suites.

“I was full of notions about the customers really wanting the sort of furniture I wanted them to have. I overlooked the fact that my father is a successful business man because he knows what his customers want. However, I persuaded him to stock some of the furniture of my choice.”

When I asked Mr. Epstein if his chosen furniture sold, he received the question a trifle incredulously: “I saw to it,” he said stonily, “that it did” - and having subsequently witnessed something of his adroitness as a salesman, who can fail to believe him?

Mr. Epstein is clever at picking people; he picked his parents very wisely, for his indulgent father then set him up in his own furniture shop in Hoylake.

He was able to revel in the furniture of his choice and provide an interior decorating service to boot. “It was the interior decorating side I enjoyed most, I had lots of ideas and I love experimenting with colour.”

When I asked Mr. Epstein if he was able to submit his clients to his ideas he replied: “The customer is always right.”

Mr. Epstein inhabits the top floor and the roof, where he has potted plants and wrought iron furniture, and swinging chintz hammocks and a splendid view.

He has two bedrooms and a study and one large, long combined living and dining room, which is decorated in white, grapish green and amber and is inspiringly tidy.

“I can’t bear clutter, I’m obsessive about plainness and simplicity, in fact, this room looks cluttered to me,” he said, eyeing with some distaste this positive precedent for orderliness.

The Buyer of Antiques

“I like buying antiques, although I have no knowledge of them. I don’t care about their period or their history. I just care about their shape. I couldn’t live with only modern furniture now, you grow out of such utter devotion. It’s rather sad really.”

“I find it completely absorbing searching for exactly what I want but there’s really not much choice, is there? I mean, there appears to be a lot but when you get down to it there is really very little.

“And isn’t it sad when finally you’ve found exactly what you want, then you discover that it’s exactly what hundreds of other people want too. It sort of spoils the specialness of it.

“I found it an exciting experience furnishing my first home, it takes a lot of time and thought, because you are imprinting something of yourself there. I think there is something of me in this flat, though it’s not exactly right. I long to have a separate dining room... well, what I really long for is a house.

Knows What He Wants

“I know exactly what I want. I can’t describe it to you, I could perhaps draw it. It is certainly nothing like the castles and follies I keep being offered. It’s a house I’ve had in my head for ages, I’ll know it the moment I see it.

“Till then I’m happy here. I look forward to coming home, that’s the big test, and my friends seem to like it and that’s also important because I love entertaining.

“Yes the Beatles approve - at least they approve of most of the furniture: they were a bit scornful about the antiques. Paul is very fond of the rocking chair, but what they all approved of most was the way I had their photographs framed. Cilla thinks it is all fab.”

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

for funsies because i got covid AGAIN

quarantine is back because y/n got COVID. skeleton house chaos ensues. what happens in those 7 days?

Undertale Sans - He's the guardian of the main door lol. No one has the right to enter, except if they make him laugh with a very good knock-knock joke. Everyone failed. They're doomed to stay outside. No one really knows it's because you have Covid because Sans forgot to mention it lol. You are so confused when one of your best friends calls you to ask you if you're sequestrated by Sans.

Undertale Papyrus - He watched some video of the first confinement and assumed buying a lot of toilet paper was the thing to do. He got a bit confused but went to the store to buy their entire stock of toilet paper. Since he didn't know where to put it, he built a toilet paper fortress in the middle of your living room. You won't have to buy toilet paper ever again you think.

Underswap Sans - He caught it too, but has no symptoms, like most monsters. He is now going crazy inside his own home crawling on the floor because he can't stop thinking about going out. After a week, your house is a war field as Blue had to find new ways to make himself busy. He tried to cook, which he failed, he painted the walls again, but ran out of paint and screamed when he realized he couldn't go out to buy more, he took a soup bath just because he could... Yeah, never again.

Underswap Papyrus - He would not say he's glad you caught it, but look at that, you're stuck home for an entire week with him! He's going to cuddle with you on the couch all day. He doesn't care if he gets ill, at least that will give him another week with you. He's having the time of his life and he wants to live like this forever, watching Disney movies while hugging his S/O in the couch, with a big plaid and hot chocolate.

Underfell Sans - With the fever and you sleeping 20 hours a day, Red isn't sure you're still alive sometimes. So randomly during the days, he's going to poke your ribs with a broom to make sure you're not dead lol. You better show you're alive quick though or he's panicking and calling rescue services. It happened twice already lol. You woke up so confused to rescuers trying to prove your boyfriend you're actually ok.

Underfell Papyrus - You told him no one has to enter the house and it took it a bit too literally. He trapped the garden and the main road leading to your house to make sure no one got close. He caused three car accidents already and a Karen screamed at him because her kid stayed three hours hanging upside down to a branch of his tree. Edge doesn't care, he's protecting. No one will get in.

Horrortale Sans - He's embracing the golden retriever kind of life, following you everywhere in the house, sleeping at the back of your bed, staring into your soul when it's time to eat to make sure you're eating... You barely manage to keep him out of the bathroom lol. Yeah, Oak is a bit anxious about it and kinda thinks you're going to die or something. You keep telling him you're fine but he's not convinced.

Horrortale Papyrus - Your food tastes like hand sanitizer because he's washing everything with it, food included. You feel even more sick now. You're begging him to stop but he keeps telling you it's for your own good. Man... You just want McDonald's right now...

Swapfell Sans - He's using you as an excuse to not go to work with Toriel and he's so proud of him. You swear he's trying to make the quarantine longer because he really doesn't want to go again. He's a bit paranoid about you though. When you're coughing more than 5 seconds, he's running to make sure you're okay.

Swapfell Papyrus - He will call you nothing but "mutant pangolin" for the entire week and will call all your friends and family to tell them you have started your mutation and won't be able to join them for a week. You're going to have a lot of calls asking what the hell is happening to you. Your mother even thinks you're pregnant. Thanks Rus.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He's sleeping in a tent in the garden and refuses to get close to the house lol. You told him wearing an anti-radiation suit was too extreme, but he doesn't want you to contaminate him so he won't listen to you. Wine is maybe a bit paranoid about human viruses.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - You told him you will sadly not be able to cuddle him all week. He gives you the ultimate offended hurt kicked puppy look. He could never forgive you. He's sulking in his room for three days before daring to get down for food.