#he got braces ig

[kazusys]

i feel like kazuha, after being with you for a while and gaining feelings, would be insecure about the gap in his teeth 😔 COMFORT HIM

don’t worry i personally think he’s adorable <3

[eyrieofsynapses]

why Aurora's art is genius

It's break for me, and I've been meaning to sit down and read the Aurora webcomic (https://comicaurora.com/, @comicaurora on Tumblr) for quite a bit. So I did that over the last few days.

And… y'know. I can't actually say "I should've read this earlier," because otherwise I would've been up at 2:30-3am when I had responsibilities in the morning and I couldn't have properly enjoyed it, but. Holy shit guys THIS COMIC.

I intended to just do a generalized "hello this is all the things I love about this story," and I wrote a paragraph or two about art style. …and then another. And another. And I realized I needed to actually reference things so I would stop being too vague. I was reading the comic on my tablet or phone, because I wanted to stay curled up in my chair, but I type at a big monitor and so I saw more details… aaaaaand it turned into its own giant-ass post.

SO. Enjoy a few thousand words of me nerding out about this insanely cool art style and how fucking gorgeous this comic is? (There are screenshots, I promise it isn't just a wall of text.) In my defense, I just spent two semesters in graphic design classes focusing on the Adobe Suite, so… I get to be a nerd about pretty things…???

All positive feedback btw! No downers here. <3

---

I cannot emphasize enough how much I love the beautiful, simple stylistic method of drawing characters and figures. It is absolutely stunning and effortless and utterly graceful—it is so hard to capture the sheer beauty and fluidity of the human form in such a fashion. Even a simple outline of a character feels dynamic! It's gorgeous!

Though I do have a love-hate relationship with this, because my artistic side looks at that lovely simplicity, goes "I CAN DO THAT!" and then I sit down and go to the paper and realize that no, in fact, I cannot do that yet, because that simplicity is born of a hell of a lot of practice and understanding of bodies and actually is really hard to do. It's a very developed style that only looks simple because the artist knows what they're doing. The human body is hard to pull off, and this comic does so beautifully and makes it look effortless.

Also: line weight line weight line weight. It's especially important in simplified shapes and figures like this, and hoo boy is it used excellently. It's especially apparent the newer the pages get—I love watching that improvement over time—but with simpler figures and lines, you get nice light lines to emphasize both smaller details, like in the draping of clothing and the curls of hair—which, hello, yes—and thicker lines to emphasize bigger and more important details and silhouettes. It's the sort of thing that's essential to most illustrations, but I wanted to make a note of it because it's so vital to this art style.

THE USE OF LAYER BLENDING MODES OH MY GODS. (...uhhh, apologies to the people who don't know what that means, it's a digital art program thing? This article explains it for beginners.)

Bear with me, I just finished my second Photoshop course, I spent months and months working on projects with this shit so I see the genius use of Screen and/or its siblings (of which there are many—if I say "Screen" here, assume I mean the entire umbrella of Screen blending modes and possibly Overlay) and go nuts, but seriously it's so clever and also fucking gorgeous:

Firstly: the use of screened-on sound effect words over an action? A "CRACK" written over a branch and then put on Screen in glowy green so that it's subtle enough that it doesn't disrupt the visual flow, but still sticks out enough to make itself heard? Little "scritches" that are transparent where they're laid on without outlines to emphasize the sound without disrupting the underlying image? FUCK YES. I haven't seen this done literally anywhere else—granted, I haven't read a massive amount of comics, but I've read enough—and it is so clever and I adore it. Examples:

Secondly: The beautiful lighting effects. The curling leaves, all the magic, the various glowing eyes, the fog, the way it's all so vividly colored but doesn't burn your eyeballs out—a balance that's way harder to achieve than you'd think—and the soft glows around them, eeeee it's so pretty so pretty SO PRETTY. Not sure if some of these are Outer/Inner Glow/Shadow layer effects or if it's entirely hand-drawn, but major kudos either way; I can see the beautiful use of blending modes and I SALUTE YOUR GENIUS.

I keep looking at some of this stuff and go "is that a layer effect or is it done by hand?" Because you can make some similar things with the Satin layer effect in Photoshop (I don't know if other programs have this? I'm gonna have to find out since I won't have access to PS for much longer ;-;) that resembles some of the swirly inner bits on some of the lit effects, but I'm not sure if it is that or not. Or you could mask over textures? There's... many ways to do it.

If done by hand: oh my gods the patience, how. If done with layer effects: really clever work that knows how to stop said effects from looking wonky, because ugh those things get temperamental. If done with a layer of texture that's been masked over: very, very good masking work. No matter the method, pretty shimmers and swirly bits inside the bigger pretty swirls!

Next: The way color contrast is used! I will never be over the glowy green-on-black Primordial Life vibes when Alinua gets dropped into that… unconscious space?? with Life, for example, and the sharp contrast of vines and crack and branches and leaves against pitch black is just visually stunning. The way the roots sink into the ground and the three-dimensional sensation of it is particularly badass here:

Friggin. How does this imply depth like that. HOW. IT'S SO FREAKING COOL.

A huge point here is also color language and use! Everybody has their own particular shade, generally matching their eyes, magic, and personality, and I adore how this is used to make it clear who's talking or who's doing an action. That was especially apparent to me with Dainix and Falst in the caves—their colors are both fairly warm, but quite distinct, and I love how this clarifies who's doing what in panels with a lot of action from both of them. There is a particular bit that stuck out to me, so I dug up the panels (see this page and the following one https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-30/):

(Gods it looks even prettier now that I put it against a plain background. Also, appreciation to Falst for managing a bridal-carry midair, damn.)

The way that their colors MERGE here! And the immense attention to detail in doing so—Dainix is higher up than Falst is in the first panel, so Dainix's orange fades into Falst's orange at the base. The next panel has gold up top and orange on bottom; we can't really tell in that panel where each of them are, but that's carried over to the next panel—

—where we now see that Falst's position is raised above Dainix's due to the way he's carrying him. (Points for continuity!) And, of course, we see the little "huffs" flowing from orange to yellow over their heads (where Dainix's head is higher than Falst's) to merge the sound of their breathing, which is absurdly clever because it emphasizes to the viewer how we hear two sets of huffing overlaying each other, not one. Absolutely brilliant.

(A few other notes of appreciation to that panel: beautiful glows around them, the sparks, the jagged silhouette of the spider legs, the lovely colors that have no right to make the area around a spider corpse that pretty, the excellent texturing on the cave walls plus perspective, the way Falst's movements imply Dainix's hefty weight, the natural posing of the characters, their on-point expressions that convey exactly how fuckin terrifying everything is right now, the slight glows to their eyes, and also they're just handsome boys <3)

Next up: Rain!!!! So well done! It's subtle enough that it never ever disrupts the impact of the focal point, but evident enough you can tell! And more importantly: THE MIST OFF THE CHARACTERS. Rain does this irl, it has that little vapor that comes off you and makes that little misty effect that plays with lighting, it's so cool-looking and here it's used to such pretty effect!

One of the panel captions says something about it blurring out all the injuries on the characters but like THAT AIN'T TOO BIG OF A PROBLEM when it gets across the environmental vibes, and also that'd be how it would look in real life too so like… outside viewer's angle is the same as the characters', mostly? my point is: that's the environment!!! that's the vibes, that's the feel! It gets it across and it does so in the most pretty way possible!

And another thing re: rain, the use of it to establish perspective, particularly in panels like this—

—where we can tell we're looking down at Tynan due to the perspective on the rain and where it's pointing. Excellent. (Also, kudos for looking down and emphasizing how Tynan's losing his advantage—lovely use of visual storytelling.)

Additionally, the misting here:

We see it most heavily in the leftmost panel, where it's quite foggy as you would expect in a rainstorm, especially in an environment with a lot of heat, but it's also lightly powdered on in the following two panels and tends to follow light sources, which makes complete sense given how light bounces off particles in the air.

A major point of strength in these too is a thorough understanding of lighting, like rim lighting, the various hues and shades, and an intricate understanding of how light bounces off surfaces even when they're in shadow (we'll see a faint glow in spots where characters are half in shadow, but that's how it would work in real life, because of how light bounces around).

Bringing some of these points together: the fluidity of the lines in magic, and the way simple glowing lines are used to emphasize motion and the magic itself, is deeply clever. I'm basically pulling at random from panels and there's definitely even better examples, but here's one (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-16-33/):

First panel, listed in numbers because these build on each other:

The tension of the lines in Tess's magic here. This works on a couple levels: first, the way she's holding her fists, as if she's pulling a rope taut.

The way there's one primary line, emphasizing the rope feeling, accompanied by smaller ones.

The additional lines starbursting around her hands, to indicate the energy crackling in her hands and how she's doing a good bit more than just holding it. (That combined with the fists suggests some tension to the magic, too.) Also the variations in brightness, a feature you'll find in actual lightning. :D Additional kudos for how the lightning sparks and breaks off the metal of the sword.

A handful of miscellaneous notes on the second panel:

The reflection of the flames in Erin's typically dark blue eyes (which bears a remarkable resemblance to Dainix, incidentally—almost a thematic sort of parallel given Erin's using the same magic Dainix specializes in?)

The flowing of fabric in the wind and associated variation in the lineart

The way Erin's tattoos interact with the fire he's pulling to his hand

The way the rain overlays some of the fainter areas of fire (attention! to! detail! hell yeah!)

I could go on. I won't because this is a lot of writing already.

Third panel gets paragraphs, not bullets:

Erin's giant-ass "FWOOM" of fire there, and the way the outline of the word is puffy-edged and gradated to feel almost three-dimensional, plus once again using Screen or a variation on it so that the stars show up in the background. All this against that stunning plume of fire, which ripples and sparks so gorgeously, and the ending "om" of the onomatopoeia is emphasized incredibly brightly against that, adding to the punch of it and making the plume feel even brighter.

Also, once again, rain helping establish perspective, especially in how it's very angular in the left side of the panel and then slowly becomes more like a point to the right to indicate it's falling directly down on the viewer. Add in the bright, beautiful glow effects, fainter but no less important black lines beneath them to emphasize the sky and smoke and the like, and the stunningly beautiful lighting and gradated glows surrounding Erin plus the lightning jagging up at him from below, and you get one hell of an impactful panel right there. (And there is definitely more in there I could break down, this is just a lot already.)

And in general: The colors in this? Incredible. The blues and purples and oranges and golds compliment so well, and it's all so rich.

Like, seriously, just throughout the whole comic, the use of gradients, blending modes, color balance and hues, all the things, all the things, it makes for the most beautiful effects and glows and such a rich environment. There's a very distinct style to this comic in its simplified backgrounds (which I recognize are done partly because it's way easier and also backgrounds are so time-consuming dear gods but lemme say this) and vivid, smoothly drawn characters; the simplicity lets them come to the front and gives room for those beautiful, richly saturated focal points, letting the stylized designs of the magic and characters shine. The use of distinct silhouettes is insanely good. Honestly, complex backgrounds might run the risk of making everything too visually busy in this case. It's just, augh, so GORGEOUS.

Another bit, take a look at this page (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-15-28/):

It's not quite as evident here as it is in the next page, but this one does some other fun things so I'm grabbing it. Points:

Once again, using different colors to represent different character actions. The "WHAM" of Kendal hitting the ground is caused by Dainix's force, so it's orange (and kudos for doubling the word over to add a shake effect). But we see blue layered underneath, which could be an environmental choice, but might also be because it's Kendal, whose color is blue.

And speaking off, take a look at the right-most panel on top, where Kendal grabs the spear: his motion is, again, illustrated in bright blue, versus the atmospheric screened-on orange lines that point toward him around the whole panel (I'm sure these have a name, I think they might be more of a manga thing though and the only experience I have in manga is reading a bit of Fullmetal Alchemist). Those lines emphasize the weight of the spear being shoved at him, and their color tells us Dainix is responsible for it.

One of my all-time favorite effects in this comic is the way cracks manifest across Dainix's body to represent when he starts to lose control; it is utterly gorgeous and wonderfully thematic. These are more evident in the page before and after this one, but you get a decent idea here. I love the way they glow softly, the way the fire juuuust flickers through at the start and then becomes more evident over time, and the cracks feel so realistic, like his skin is made of pottery. Additional points for how fire begins to creep into his hair.

A small detail that's generally consistent across the comic, but which I want to make note of here because you can see it pretty well: Kendal's eyes glow about the same as the jewel in his sword, mirroring his connection to said sword and calling back to how the jewel became Vash's eye temporarily and thus was once Kendal's eye. You can always see this connection (though there might be some spots where this also changes in a symbolic manner; I went through it quickly on the first time around, so I'll pay more attention when I inevitably reread this), where Kendal's always got that little shine of blue in his eyes the same as the jewel. It's a beautiful visual parallel that encourages the reader to subconsciously link them together, especially since the lines used to illustrate character movements typically mirror their eye color. It's an extension of Kendal.

Did I mention how ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL the colors in this are?

Also, the mythological/legend-type scenes are illustrated in familiar style often used for that type of story, a simple and heavily symbolic two-dimensional cave-painting-like look. They are absolutely beautiful on many levels, employing simple, lovely gradients, slightly rougher and thicker lineart that is nonetheless smoothly beautiful, and working with clear silhouettes (a major strength of this art style, but also a strength in the comic overall). But in particular, I wanted to call attention to a particular thing (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-12-4/):

The flowing symbolic lineart surrounding each character. This is actually quite consistent across characters—see also Life's typical lines and how they curl:

What's particularly interesting here is how these symbols are often similar, but not the same. Vash's lines are always smooth, clean curls, often playing off each other and echoing one another like ripples in a pond. You'd think they'd look too similar to Life's—but they don't. Life's curl like vines, and they remain connected; where one curve might echo another but exist entirely detached from each other in Vash's, Life's lines still remain wound together, because vines are continuous and don't float around. :P

Tahraim's are less continuous, often breaking up with significantly smaller bits and pieces floating around like—of course—sparks, and come to sharper points. These are also constants: we see the vines repeated over and over in Alinua's dreams of Life, and the echoing ripples of Vash are consistent wherever we encounter him. Kendal's dream of the ghost citizens of the city of Vash in the last few chapters is filled with these rippling, echoing patterns, to beautiful effect (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-14/):

They ripple and spiral, often in long, sinuous curves, with smooth elegance. It reminds me a great deal of images of space and sine waves and the like. This establishes a definite feel to these different characters and their magic. And the thing is, that's not something that had to be done—the colors are good at emphasizing who's who. But it was done, and it adds a whole other dimension to the story. Whenever you're in a deity's domain, you know whose it is no matter the color.

Regarding that shape language, I wanted to make another note, too—Vash is sometimes described as chaotic and doing what he likes, which is interesting to me, because smooth, elegant curves and the color blue aren't generally associated with chaos. So while Vash might behave like that on the surface, I'm guessing he's got a lot more going on underneath; he's probably much more intentional in his actions than you'd think at a glance, and he is certainly quite caring with his city. The other thing is that this suits Kendal perfectly. He's a paragon character; he is kind, virtuous, and self-sacrificing, and often we see him aiming to calm others and keep them safe. Blue is such a good color for him. There is… probably more to this, but I'm not deep enough in yet to say.

And here's the thing: I'm only scratching the surface. There is so much more here I'm not covering (color palettes! outfits! character design! environment! the deities! so much more!) and a lot more I can't cover, because I don't have the experience; this is me as a hobbyist artist who happened to take a couple design classes because I wanted to. The art style to this comic is so clever and creative and beautiful, though, I just had to go off about it. <3

...brownie points for getting all the way down here? Have a cookie.

[transgenderfabianseacaster]

continuing my tradition of projecting various parts of my identity onto the bad kids (riz has an autoimmune disease)

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

[tangledinink]

... the fuck you mean you've had too many teeth broski.

OH well when I was like eight I had an extra tooth that was trying to grow upwards, like, into my nose, so they had to go in and surgically remove that one. smh. it fucked up all my other teeth somehow so then i got braces immediately after. i have really good mouth genetics actually.

[dearhaos]

its so funny how much i dislike visiting doctors when thats my moms like. fave thing to do

[orphicmusings]

giving a sleepy, overworked viktor head late in the lab..? and because hes so tired he's just dumb and needy....???? (ig somno if you squint)

18+ ᴍᴅɴɪ

“what do i have to do to pull you away from that?” you sighed, practically hanging off the back of your lover’s chair. you took a quick glance at the clock in the corner of the room, soon to approach midnight. viktor answered you with a simple, deflective hum and you rolled your eyes. if he didn’t complain about the exhaustion making his chronic pain flare up, you would have pulled him away from that desk with your bare hands and throw him on the nearest plush surface. you sighed again, a little louder this time, a little pointed.

“am i boring you, love?” he rasped, exhaustion heavily coating his voice and thickening his accent.

“you really can’t take your eyes off that thing for just a second?” you leant down over his shoulder, exasperatedly nodding toward his project. “not. one. second.” he answered, not even raising his eyes to meet yours, focused entirely on scribbling down what looked to be an equation.

oh. you took that as a challenge.

wordlessly, you gently nudged the wheels of his chair away from its place flush against his desk. he barely noticed, only giving you a slight furrow of his thick brows. you rounded the chair in front of him and slowly sank to your knees. “not one second?” you tilted your head coquettishly. at your words, he allowed himself to spare a glance at you, kneeling before him, under his desk. his breath hitched in his throat, trapping his response in his chest. a glance was all he could afford if he wanted to focus. even in the dim lamplight, you could see the faintest brush of pink across his cheeks. smirking triumphantly, you carefully reach up for the zipper of his pants. he loudly clears his throat when he feels your fingers so close.

“darling.” he called as a warning, stopping short in his work but still refusing to tear his eyes off of it.

“you want me to stop?” you asked earnestly, though you were sure you already knew the answer. he fixed you with a look. a permissive look, but a firm look, like an ‘i can’t resist this but i also won’t endorse it’ kind of look. you bit down on your grinning lip and pulled his pants down entirely. you could feel him tensing his muscles under your hands, willing himself to keep his focus on his work. you slowly pulled his cock from his constraints, giving it a single kiss on the head.

a soft groan rumbled in his throat, one hand dropping his pen and moving to cover his mouth. he could not look at you. he could not look at you. if he looked at you, he’d be done for the night, his brain would be absolutely fried and, oh, goddammit. your cheeks are hollowed, pretty plump lips wrapped around him, mischievous eyes glinting up at him. “fuck.” he groans again, closing his eyes and letting them open in your direction, finally. you braced your hands on his thighs, making sure to dig your nails into the pillowy flesh of his good leg. you finally got those pretty whines to come out. “evil…” his chest rises and falls heavily with each labored breath, becoming more and more ragged the more you fill your mouth with him. “evil woman.”

you giggle as much as you can with him on your tongue and it vibrates oh so good around him, causing him to toss his head back and whimper, “please…” one hand blindly reaches for your hair, gently tangling his long fingers in your locks, guiding you. oh, you’ve got him now. “oh, god, please don’t stop…” you will yourself to take him as deep as you can, and he hisses as he feels his cock hit the back of your throat. he opens his eyes to check on you, pulling you off for a moment. he takes the brief respite to tilt your chin up and give you a few quick kisses, babbling things like sweet girl and i love you so much and i’m sorry for neglecting my poor little darling and i could never say no to that pretty face in between. you can’t help but giggle at his sleepy verbage, more mushy than usual.

“that’s cute.” you take his hand off your chin, threading your own fingers through his. looking at his achingly hard cock. “i wasn’t done, though.”

he gives you one of his cocky, lopsided smiles and pats his lap. “no, no you weren’t.”

[lightseoul]

HOLD ME CLOSE (HOLD ME TIGHT) (3.8k)

pairing. k. bakugou x reader

synopsis. masaru has a stroke that nearly kills him. bakugou handles it well—until he doesn’t.

cw. pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (32), established relationship, mentions of illness, themes of grief, discussions of past trauma (bkg's)

a/n. i hope y'all cry because this made me cry lmao. writing really is easy if you take heavy inspiration from your personal experiences lol. this is written from bkg's pov, and serves as a mini character analysis as well ig?

bakugou remembers it clear as day.

it was only a few weeks after the two of you celebrated his 32nd birthday in a secluded resort out of town when he got the call.

he was in the middle of chastising his klutz of a sidekick’s ear off for forgetting to submit an important case report when his phone started ringing, and the very fact that it wasn’t your ringtone further soured his already worsening mood.

with a final reprimand laced with an hr-appropriate amount of expletives, he dismissed the rookie, leaving him alone in his pristine, corner office.

he recalls sighing in annoyance upon seeing the caller id, as well as his clipped tone when he greeted the old hag with a curt, “what.”

that annoyance was immediately replaced with alarm, however, when his usually bright mother spoke into the microphone, her typically level voice shaking with unmistakable fear.

“it’s your father, katsuki…” she started, and he instantly braced himself for the impact.

mitsuki takes a shaky inhale. “…he’s having a stroke. we’re on the way to the hospital. please, come here.”

he didn’t need to be told twice.

he remembers being on autopilot—the entire way to the suburban peripheries of musutafu where his parents decided to move after he got his own place at the age of 22. he’s not entirely sure—the journey over now a hazy blur—but he might’ve sent you the link to his location, because you magically arrived at the local hospital around fifteen minutes after him.

the moment he saw you burst into the entrance of the emergency room, a huge, tidal wave of relief immediately washed over him, he thought he could’ve collapsed. the second you lock eyes, he witnessed a whirlwind of emotions dance across your beautiful features, before you ran over to where he stood near the vending machine, unceremoniously crashing into his arms.

at that point, he had no idea what made you drop everything—including the precious work that you do—and just follow him based on an ambiguous gps locator he sent you without context, but he was glad you did.

because it was only as you held him so close to you all the while soothing his back and chanting soft ‘it’s okay’s’ in his ear did it hit him.

the fact that he’s fucking terrified.

it must’ve been at least three hours of stewing in tense silence in the emergency room’s waiting area before the two of you finally saw mitsuki.

he remembers the way his heart ached when he first laid eyes on his mother, someone who’s typically radiant and spirited and happy, now looking too frail and painfully vulnerable.

words weren’t exchanged as the three of you walked towards each other, and he promptly engulfed his mother into a tight hug before he could talk himself out of it.

“how is he?” he whispered into the side of her head, choosing to ask then, in the middle of a hug, because he didn’t know if he could stand the look on her face when she answered.

“he’s alive,” she managed to get out, but she said it so tentatively that he knew it was too soon to feel any sort of relief.

“but…?” he recalls asking with bated breath.

“it was a hemorrhagic stroke. it’s… it’s bad, katsuki.”

it wasn’t until a few more hours later, when the two of you were finally granted permission to enter masaru’s hospital room together with mitsuki, did he realize what bad meant.

some parts of this story are blurry now, but the way his stomach dropped at the sight of his father remains to be unforgettable.

the sight of him paralyzed, head to toe.

masaru remained confined in the hospital for a few weeks more after that. the three of you took turns—one would go home to clean up and catch some sleep while the remaining two kept watch and assisted the man.

you almost got booted out of there on the second day, with the nurse saying only immediate family was allowed due to overcrowding in the hospital, but bakugou was quick to step in and say you were practically married.

when the nurse politely pressed for more details while looking pointedly at your ring finger and the lack of a wedding band, he lied and said you forgot to wear it in your rush to get there.

she didn’t seem too convinced, but she thankfully let it go, probably because it was #2 pro-hero dynamight who said so, eventually exiting the room after checking masaru’s vitals.

he remembers you heaving a sigh of relief once the three of you were left alone, tossing him a small smile that sent a familiar shot of longing straight to his veins.

one day, he recalls thinking to himself, you will be married.

just—not now.

the first day home was as much of a nightmare as he expected it to be.

growing up, and until that moment, he never really found himself wanting siblings.

sure, it got pretty lonely during his childhood, but he almost always had kids following him around what with how flashy his quirk is, and he had izuku, which he can now admit was (and still is) his best friend.

plus, you always said you loved how he’d roughhouse you, which you chalked up to him being an only child and not having had the opportunity to do that with anyone else.

but, as the three of you struggled to lift masaru out of the car and into his newly minted wheelchair, he remembers wishing for a brother or a sister who could lend a helping hand and make sure all of masaru’s numb body parts were carefully looked out for.

it’s fucking hilarious, how he didn’t just lift his father all by himself with his pro-hero muscles, but the fear of accidentally hurting him even more turned out to be more paralyzing than he anticipated.

not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

not even you.

but as he watched you and his mother fluttering around, tending to masaru’s needs not even a minute you get in the house, it struck him that maybe he should.

you might not be his sibling (thank god, no), but you will most likely become his parents’ daughter if things go his way.

and, whether he liked it or not, he’s got to do something about the growing ache in his chest that’s only growing wider by the second.

the next few weeks he spent busying himself with the stuff that came with looking after a stroke patient.

mitsuki, who’s done nothing but throw herself into caring for her husband, insisted on helping him find the people they needed, but bakugou didn’t even let her get a word in.

when he tucked himself into bed right next to you later that night in his new bedroom (you moved in with him to his parents’ despite his protests), he recalls ranting about how the old hag was getting on his nerves with her inability to just let him handle shit.

“have i ever been incompetent?” he huffed, turning on his side so he could lie facing you. “it’s like she doesn’t even trust me.”

“i think the two of you just want the same for the other, kats,” came your steady yet gentle voice, not missing a beat and totally unfazed by his petulant behavior.

“…waddya mean?”

you reached out to caress his cheek, and he remembers how soft your fingers felt and how his eyes momentarily fluttered close at the warmth.

at the sight, you flashed him a sad smile before pressing on.

“you’re both hurting, but the two of you would rather carry the weight by yourselves instead of burdening the other. it’s how you and mitsuki show you care.”

he didn’t say anything after that.

at least, for a while.

finally, he spoke up. “…i just don’t like to be bossed around, is all.”

to that, you only tossed him a knowing look. “yup, just that. definitely. never mind your immense sense of responsibility and the stubborn yet admirable way you carry everybody’s bur—”

“yeah, yeah,” he cut you off before you could ramble any further. “i get it.”

seemingly satisfied, you grinned up at him before pulling him close, cradling his head by your chest.

with the new position, he could feel your familiar, rhythmic heartbeat.

your heartbeat that he liked to listen to for reassurance—telltale evidence that you’re alive and right next to him, and that no villain has wrestled you out of his firm grip.

and as he lay there snuggled into you and listening to the consistent pulse, he found his frantic, loud thoughts slowly but steadily being lulled to a hum.

thoughts that he knew you’d kick to the moon if you found out he’s been thinking them.

thoughts like maybe he’s just selfishly gatekeeping all the tasks so he could distract himself from the pain that’s threatening to swallow him whole.

thoughts like maybe he deserved this for all the wrong he’s done growing up.

thoughts like maybe his mother would be in far less pain if it were him instead of his saint of a father who had to go through this.

he fell into a fitted sleep that night.

after a few more weeks of searching for and screening applicants, and with your and mitsuki’s approval, he finally settled on a stay-in caregiver and physical therapist.

it took quite a while for the two to learn the ropes and master how he wanted things to be done around here, but they eventually got there, and when they did, they cleared a lot of stuff that has been on everybody’s plates ever since masaru had the stroke.

with that, mitsuki insisted the two of you go home to your shared condominium and get back into working full-time again, but neither of you relented. he tried to get you to return, not wanting to hold you back from the important things that you do, but you were quick to dismiss him.

he didn’t tell you then and there, but he secretly wished you would.

he’d never confess this to anybody, but he’d definitely crumble without you around.

he remembers one specific thursday, when you first started getting masaru into exercising his left, albeit non-dominant hand, by drawing.

it was silly, but he recalls not even being able to look his father in the eye as the two of you sat across from him who was plastered in his wheelchair, a small coffee table between you, on which sat a piece of paper, a pencil, a box of crayons, and an all might plushie you swiftly grabbed from his bedroom.

and as he sat there avoiding his father’s gaze, he watched you as you talked animatedly to the man, explaining the deceivingly simple activity: he just had to try and draw the plushie, after which, if he still had the energy, he could color in using the crayons you dug out from bakugou’s drawers.

but masaru wasn’t having it.

the man only stared at you in disinterest as you tried your best to engage him. despite himself, bakugou felt indignation creep up his spine.

he knew. fuck, he really did. after he made sure you’ve fallen asleep, he had spent nights researching his father’s condition, poring over mountains and mountains of information all in the name of being able to better understand and help him.

so he knew—he knew that strokes, especially severe ones, can cause noticeable changes in one’s personality, at least in the short term. it can turn someone sensitive and in tune with others’ emotions into someone who’s apathetic and seemingly self-absorbed.

still, that knowledge doesn’t stop him from jumping on his feet when masaru, his kind, sweet father, angrily wiped off the table with his left arm, sending the materials you worked hard to gather scattered all over the floor.

and, before he could stop himself: “hey!”

you were onto him in an instant, a soothing albeit restraining hold on his shoulder. “katsuki, it’s okay.”

he was about to open his mouth to spit venom when he felt you tighten your grip. he didn’t have to glance at you to know you were looking at him the way you always did when you were begging him to stay quiet.

and because he loved (loves) you, he did.

and as he wordlessly picked up the papers and pens in silence, he couldn’t help but mourn over his father, and the patience and calmness that characterized his being.

the very patience and calmness that he always wished he had, instead of his temper and aggressiveness, because that’s what you, of all people, deserved.

and then the all-too-familiar guilt hit him again.

because why was he acting like his father died, when he was still very much alive?

simple, bakugou thought to himself.

it’s because it feels like he has.

his relationship with masaru didn’t get better after that.

he’d been trying, he really had been. if not for you, who’d been tending to his father like he was your very own, then for his mother, whose fatigue and sadness have been chipping away at her by the minute.

he was washing the dishes in the kitchen after you’ve had dinner—all the while his parents watched tv in the living room—when you walked in, a couple more dirty plates in tow.

he wouldn’t have noticed he was glaring down at the brick of butter on the shelf if you didn’t point it out.

“a few more seconds and that’s gonna melt,” you quipped.

he looked back at you, gears in his head turning for a beat, before he chuckled half-heartedly and turned back to the sink.

behind him, he recalls hearing a click, which he now identifies as you putting down the plates on the kitchen island, before he felt your arms wrap around his middle, encasing him in a hug.

your voice was smooth when you drawled out, “what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, baby?”

still, and despite all the shit that’s been going on in his life, he still found himself shuddering at the pet name.

“nothing.”

“really?” came your immediate response. “because i was getting kinda jealous with how hard you were staring at that butter.”

at that, bakugou couldn’t help but snort. you followed suit, that delightful laugh echoing across the small room.

“stupid,” he simply retorted, although both of you knew there was no bite to it.

you didn’t press him for more after that, choosing to just hold yourself against his back in comfortable silence—which he now knows he’s grateful for.

because at that time, he couldn’t have told you he was feeling nothing but resentment for his pitiful father.

his pitiful father who loved to put butter in virtually every dish he whipped up.

his pitiful father who probably wouldn’t be pitiful if he just led an active lifestyle, monitored his health, and made better choices so that his poor mother wouldn’t have to go through all this.

his train of thought was interrupted, however, when a pang of that same old guilt hit his chest, and then he was once again flooded with scalding shame.

because what else should he be feeling for his father aside from empathy, as someone who has had far too many brushes with death itself?

“…katsuki?”

he recalls jolting ever so minutely, before turning his head to look at you, who, by then, was already standing behind him, apparently already having released him from the hug.

“huh?”

“i was just asking you,” you continued as if he didn’t just zone out. “our friends want to come by and visit, if you’re okay with it. is that alright with you?”

the last thing he needed was for his nerd-ass friends to visit and witness his family’s dirty laundry, which would inevitably be aired out for them to see given the circumstances. his entire life, he always, always, kept those from prying eyes, even if they were his closest buddies’.

but, at the mention of his friends, he found his heart clenching in yearning despite himself.

and so, before he could talk himself out of it, he nodded in approval.

“…and so that’s how i saved the little girl who was convinced i was the bad guy!”

he remembers everyone in the room erupting in laughter at kirishima’s story, even masaru, who’s been steadily gaining control of the left side of his body back.

his right has seen little to no improvement, but you and mitsuki have been making it a point to celebrate every win, no matter how small.

at kirishima’s gag, bakugou himself couldn’t help the somewhat imperceptible smirk that encroached on his face, which izuku, unfortunately, caught sight of. the #1 pro-hero beamed at him, and it took bakugou every ounce of self-control not to roll his eyes at the nerd.

“what about you, midoriya-kun?” asked mitsuki, who’s seated on a stool right beside her husband, who’s nestled comfortably in the reclining chair you got him about a month ago.

at the call out, the green-haired man shifted his attention to the lady, before sheepishly retorting with: “oh, i just try to be funny.”

that granted him his round of laughter, and this time bakugou finally allowed himself to give into the visceral urge to roll his eyes.

he must’ve been being so obvious with his expressions, because it’s you who managed to catch him again, shooting him a chastising but nevertheless playful look.

before he could wink at you or do anything in response, though, he recalls mitsuki standing up quite abruptly, startling the five of you.

you shot her a question before anyone else could. “what is it, mitsuki-san?”

“i didn’t notice! we’ve run out of tea and snacks. sorry—” she leaned down to get the trays, “—let me get some mo—”

“i’ll do it!” volunteered the ever-good-natured izuku, who moved so fast the plates were on him before the rest could blink.

“i’ll help the nerd,” bakugou added, standing up before taking some of the cups from his rival lest the latter drops them.

at the uncharacteristically generous offer, izuku once again beamed at him, which bakugou immediately dismissed with a wave of a hand.

the short trek to the kitchen was quiet amidst the background noise, which has been brought up a notch thanks to kirishima’s vivid storytelling.

without a word, bakugou gestured where to get a refill on the snacks while he busied himself with brewing more tea.

the silence that engulfed them was comfortable—familiar—that was, until, izuku broke it.

“thanks again, kacchan.”

bakugou felt his eye twitch at the nickname. “for what?”

izuku turned on his feet to regard his best friend, a grateful smile gracing his boyish features. “for letting me and ei visit. i just wanted you to know i appreciate it. i’m sure it’s not easy having guests around while, you know…”

he wasn’t about to tell the nerd he and kirishima were the only ones he felt comfortable enough to visit at the moment, so he merely nodded.

(un)fortunately, the greenhead took it as a sign to continue.

“she’s been amazing, huh?”

bakugou met the man’s soft gaze, which was directed toward you.

“yeah,” came his sure reply. he remembers not even knowing where to start, so he just simply left it at that.

a pregnant pause.

“you’ve been doing great, too, kacchan.”

that caught him off guard.

he must’ve looked stunned, because izuku shrugged quite timidly, before: “we all see how hard you’re working.”

the #1 pro-hero hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether or not to say the next thing, ultimately deciding for it.

“…but don’t forget to take care of yourself, too, alright?”

and just as fast as he scooped the trays back in the living room, izuku patted him on the shoulder before taking the cups from him and waltzing rather clumsily out of the kitchen.

later that night, bakugou found himself unable to fall asleep.

it’s been ages since you both got into bed, and you were now on your side with your back turned against him, probably already fast asleep.

he recalls just staring up at the off-white ceiling, playing back in his head the earlier conversation he had with izuku again and again and again.

“you’ve been doing great, too, kacchan,” was what the nerd said.

if he only knew.

if he only knew the terrible thoughts that had been plaguing his mind since shit went down.

there’s a reason why he hasn’t said a single word about the things he’d been thinking since day one.

there’s a reason why he’s kept all of this shit to himself even though they were fucking heavy to carry all on his own.

it was because he was scared of them, and even more scared of what people would make of him when he finally verbalized them into existence.

what you would make of him.

he’s spent most of his life running away from who he used to be, that the mere thought that he might have just always been that guy this entire time is like a fucking 100% detroit smash to the gut.

he didn’t even notice he was crying until he felt a single tear go down the side of his face.

he quickly reached up to wipe it away.

to his horror, he felt you shift beside him, and he found himself frozen in fear as he waited for you to settle into another position in your sleep.

but that didn’t come.

instead, he remembers so, so clearly how you turned to face him—absolutely, evidently wide awake—with such a worried expression on your gorgeous face, and how he just completely lost it at the sight of you.

he remembers how you scooped him into your arms as ugly sobs finally wracked his body, how you led his arms to wrap around your waist to help anchor him as he cried into your chest.

he remembers the soothing circles you rubbed on his back as you started to cry with him, your sniffles the only thing he heard aside from his own weeping.

he remembers the way your voice cracked when you started whispering ‘i’m here’s’ in his ear. and, he doesn’t know if it’s because that line carries a massive fucking weight for him, or that it’s you—the love of his life—who’s saying them, but the words wash over the entirety of his exhausted body like a violent storm, leaving him shivering in its wake.

he remembers deciding then and there, that he was going to tell you everything.

maybe tomorrow, but not now.

for now, and in the safety of your arms, he finds himself finally allowing the grief—the grief that he’s unknowingly been trying to tamp down—to come forward and make itself known.

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 have a nice day!

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Maybe, Baby?

Summary: You and Frankie aren't trying for a baby just yet, but when your weird symptoms start to throw your body for a loop, you start to wonder if you actually might be pregnant

Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), Unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap, silly gooses), creampie, praise kink, size kink (if u squint), unintentional breeding kink (lmaoooo, it's me, sorry not sorry), birth control/family planning, pregnancy (or maybe not? part 2 maybe? hehe) symptoms, Frankie and reader mention being closer to 30 than 16 (turns out when you're an adult, it's not a teen pregnancy anymore), reader has hair that can be played with, Frankie being the sweetest husband alive (all the gold stars for him), Frankie is so excited to be a dad that I just may pass away

A/N: I know y'all voted for me to finish chapter 20 but i lied (I'm so sorry), but I wrote this in a day and husband Frankie was really speaking to me on this one 😭 This one is brought to you by my raging baby fever and perhaps some real life inspiration WHOOPS, art imitating life on this one ig 💀 Poorly beta'd bc that's how I roll!!!

Ever since getting off birth control a few months ago, your body had felt… different. 

While you were glad you had made the change for yourself, you still found yourself shocked every month when a new sort of symptom decided to appear at some point in your cycle that you had never dealt with before- acne in new places, weird cramps, and crazy mood swings that showed up out of nowhere before your period were just a few of the things you were learning to manage as you figured out your body post birth control. 

Another symptom you hadn’t expected was that now, you were insatiably horny. 

All the time. 

While Frankie had been more supportive and caring in helping you deal with all of your not so pleasant symptoms than you could have hoped for, he was also more than happy to help you with your newly found positive one, too. 

The only problem was, after so many years of not having to worry about the consequences of your sex life on birth control, you and Frankie were finding it very hard to adjust to be more… careful. 

As you got hornier and hornier, the box of condoms that Frankie had bought after you stopped taking the pill had been seeing less and less use, and to be honest, hadn’t really seen the light of day from the back of his nightstand drawer in about a month an a half- and if you were being even more honest, on top of that, Frankie’s pull out game was almost nowhere to be found. 

You both knew that you wanted a family in the future- That was a part of your reason for getting off birth control to begin with. The two of you had agreed to hold off at least for a little longer to try and get your life more in order before bringing a baby into it, but with with your new lack of protection when it came to sex, and constant horniness around the clock, you both were beginning to have a feeling that that your agreed upon timeline for having a baby might be harder for you to maintain that you thought. 

Especially when you found yourself morphing into an unspeakably horny monster when you were ovulating. 

So little did you realize, that as you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom as the two of you were getting ready for bed and you caught a glimpse in the mirror of Frankie, stripping out of his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers as he searched around in your dresser for pajamas, that was the reason you nearly spit out your entire mouthful of toothpaste to try and get a mouthful of something else. 

You couldn’t help but ogle at your husband's broad body and freckled tan skin, muscles flexing as he shuffled through your drawers, pulling out an old, worn gray t-shirt and tugging it over his head, running his hand through his messy, curly hair before searching for his pajama bottoms.

At this point, you had honestly braced yourself on the edge of the bathroom counter to keep yourself from falling over at how mouth-watering he looked, already feeling the wetness beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear at the thought of wanting to rip his clothes off just as fast as he had put them on. 

Letting out a yawn, Frankie raised his hands above his head so a sliver of his soft belly peaked out between his waistband and shirt hem before making his way into the bathroom, sleepily padding along the tile floor until his body was behind yours, chest flushed against your back and arms wrapped around your waist. Even more prevalent, his bulge pressed against your ass, making the wet spot in your underwear grow damper by the second. 

“You ready for bed, querida?” Frankie cooed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder and smiling at your reflections in the mirror. 

While you were absolutely ready to get into bed, sleeping was not going to be your activity of choice.  

“I think that maybe…” You paused, turning around to face Frankie, his body caging yours against the counter, palms splayed flat on either side of your hips, looking down at you with his sweet, brown eyes, “I think that maybe we should do something else before we go to sleep.” 

“Something else, huh?” Frankie smirked, raising his eyebrows at you as your hands began to run up and down his arms, slightly squeezing the muscles of his biceps as your fingers crept under the fabric of his shirt sleeves. “And what might that something else be, Hermosa?” 

“You know exactly what it is, Fransisco. You expect me to watch you just roam around shirtless in our bedroom and not get all hot and bothered? God, you’re so fucking hot.” You moaned, letting your hands run up his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him in for a long, electric kiss. 

“Damn, what’s gotten into you, babe?” Frankie chuckled, trying his best not to blush at your comment, sliding his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“I don’t- Fuck, I don’t know, I just know that if you don’t fuck me right this second, I think I’m gonna explode.” 

While your statement may have had a flair for the dramatic, it was just about as close to the God’s honest truth as you could get- You were so worked up, you felt practically feral, the ache in your core so strong that you really did feel like you were on the verge of implosion. 

Before you even gave Frankie time to respond, your lips were crashing into his with a ferocious intensity, your hands grabbing fistfulls of his t-shirt as you stumbled back towards your bedroom, bodies bumping and bouncing against the walls and door frames, mouths never parting as the back of Frankie’s knees finally hit the mattress, forcing him to fall backwards onto the bed. 

Crawling overtop of him, you were already straddled over his hips, grinding your bottom half on the bulge growing in his pajamas as your hands crept under the hem of his t-shirt, running along the tanned, soft skin of his chest, making him let out a low groan that rumbled in his throat. 

Frantically shuffling himself further onto the bed, Frankie’s hands dug into your hips and over your ass as your hands slid down from his chest to his waistband, fingers tugging at the elastic to shuffle his bottoms and boxers down his legs, quickly followed by your own, dropping to a crumpled pile on the floor. 

Feeling your fingers wrap around his cock, already painfully hard, you swirled the precum leaking from his tip with your thumb before dragging your hand up and down his length, leaving Frankie sitting up in surprise while he watched you begin to hover over him, dragging his dick through your folds. 

“Hermosa, are you sure you don’t need me to-” But before Frankie could finish the rest of his protest to make sure you were ready to take him, you were already sinking down onto him, whimpering at the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness, followed by the ragged moan escaping Frankie’s lips. 

“Oh fuck… Nuh uh, Frankie. I need to feel you, baby. Needed to feel you inside me.” You whined, taking Frankie cock inch by inch until he had bottomed out inside you, his tip kissing your cervix, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure. 

Normally with Frankie’s size, you would have needed to warm you up first, but with how wet and worked up you already were, you were able to take him with ease, desperate to feel him buried deep inside you. 

“Jesus fucking christ, queirda, you’re so fucking wet. Fuck, baby.” Frankie moaned, feeling you begin to slide up and down his length, coating him with your arousal with each swirl of your hips. 

Arching your back, you jutted your hips forward, bracing your hands on Frankie’s strong thighs, circling your bottom half against his, whimpering at his fullness and the hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your clit, selfishly already longing to chase your own high to ease the ache that had been burning in your core. 

“Fuck, Frankie, you feel so good. Feel so fucking full with you in me.” You whimpered, bouncing even harder and faster on Frankie’s cock, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping his and wetness dripping from your heat coating the walls of your bedroom. 

“Yeah? This what you wanted, pretty girl? Wanted me to stretch this pretty little pussy out and fill you up?” Frankie groaned, gritting his teeth as he began to jut his hips up into yours as you rode him, the added depth of his thrusts making you cry out in pleasure. 

And for as fucking good as it felt, the horny monster you had morphed into had you greedily craving more- to have Frankie stretch you open in a way that had you seeing stars, so much that you could still feel the next day, long after the two of you were finished. 

“I-I want more, p-please, baby. Fuck- Fuck me harder, Fransisco.” You cried, your sweet voice whimpering his full name turning him almost as feral as you were, letting out a low growl as he grabbed you by your hips, flipping you so that your back hit the mattress and he was caging his broad body over yours. 

Practically ripping the t-shirt still covering your upper half off your body, Frankie dove face first between your breasts, groping one while hungrily sucking at the other, flicking your pebbled nipple with his tongue, his free hand reaching down to line his cock back up with your entrance, sliding back in to your aching core with ease. 

Frankie let himself sink all the way back in, filling you to the brim before hooking his arms around your knees, pressing your legs against your stomach, smirking to himself at the ragged moan you let out as the new angle opened you up even further. 

“You want me to fuck you harder, Hermosa?” Frankie mewled, slowly dragging his length out of your heat, looking down to see your shiny slick soaking his cock before looking back at you and the wrecked expression plastered across your face, frantically nodding in desperation. “Tell me how badly you want it, sweet girl.” 

“Fuck, I need you so bad, Fransisco, please.” You begged, damn near close to tears with how deeply you needed to feel Frankie ease the emptiness inside you. “Please, baby, I- oh fuck-”  

Before you could even finish the rest of your plea, your breath was already hitched in the back of your throat as Frankie began to pound into you at a relentless pace, tightening his grip around your thighs while he pressed them closer to your chest, grunting with each rut of his hips into yours. 

“This what you want, querida? Meirda- so fucking wet and tight, baby girl. You feel so fucking good, holy fuck.” 

It didn’t take long for the all too familiar tingle at the base of your spine to start spreading through your body like a wildfire as Frankie continued to slam into your g-spot, making you chant his name like a prayer, your brain at a loss for any other words than “Fuck, Fransisco.” 

And as if you already weren’t close enough, when Frankie reached down to thumb at your clit, rubbing in relentless circles against your sensitive nub, you knew you were a fucking goner. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. Cum for me, baby. Want that- oh fuck- want that prefect pussy to fucking soak me.” Frankie groaned, feverishly pounding into you, desperate to feel you come undone for him giving him long enough to fight off his own high that was rapidly building in the pit of his stomach. 

A few more thrusts were all it took to have the coil snapping in your belly, crying out Frankie’s name as you came, orgasm ripping through your body with a blinding intensity, eyes scrunching shut and jaw hanging open while pleasure and euphoria flowed through every ounce of you. 

Still blissed out and wrecked out of your mind, your eyes shot open as Frankie’s mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your whimpers and moans in a messy dance of tongues and teeth. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum. Jesus fuck-  fuck, I’m close too, baby. W-where do you want me, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, barley holding on long enough for you to answer, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as his hips began to stutter, gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow with every ounce of self control he had left. 

Still barley coherent enough to form a sentence, your brain blurted out the only thing you could think of, and the only thing that you really wanted in the moment. 

“Inside, Fransisco. Fuck, cum inside me, baby.” 

That alone was almost enough to send Frankie over the edge, letting out a long, low groan, sloppily rutting into you as his brain went blank alongside yours, starting to babble incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- you want me to fill you up, queirda? Fuck, I’ll fucking fill you up so good you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Oh fuck, shit baby, fuck, oh I’m gonnaahhhhhh-“ 

Just like that, Frankie took one last thrust, spilling deep inside you, coating your walls with his spend as his body slumped into yours, the pair of your chests rising and falling in sync as you both came back down to earth. 

“Jesus Christ… Holy fuck, Frankie.” You giggled quietly to yourself, blissfully filled with post orgasm ecstasy as your husband carefully pulled himself out before rolling over next to you on the bed, pulling you close against his chest. 

“Fuck me, Hermosa, holy shit.” Frankie chuckled, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead, tracing small circles on your back as he held you, heat radiating off of each other's sweat-ridden bodies. “God, I love you. We should probably get you cleaned up. You wanna shower?” He asked, smirking as your face lit up at his nearly rhetorical question. 

“Only if you’re up for round 2, Morales.”   

“My eyes are up here, Fransisco.” 

“Hmmm? What did you say?” 

“Exactly my point. Can you stop looking with your man eyes and look with your normal, helpful people eyes to help me decide on a dress for Benny and Victoria’s wedding?” You sighed, laughing to yourself as you raised an eyebrow at Frankie, his gaze still fixed on your chest. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be helpful.” Frankie huffed, overdramatically rolling his eyes at you, playfully throwing his hands up in defense as he leaned back against the dressing room door, looking you up and down in one of the cute floral dresses you had picked to try on for your friends’ upcoming wedding. “It’s just that… Nevermind.” 

“It’s just that what, Frank?” You asked tilting your head in confusion at your husband as his eyes traveled back to your breasts, furled look in his brow like he was really staring there to prove a point. 

“It’s just that- Baby, I don’t know if it’s just the dress or what, but your boobs look huge. Like, they always look good, believe me, but like… Whew.” Frankie whistled, practically shaking his head in disbelief at how good you looked. 

“Really?” You asked, turning around to face the mirror in the dressing room, gently cupping your breasts, grimacing as you held them in your hands. “Yeah, I guess they do… Honestly, I was gonna complain about how sore they’ve been all day. I wonder if maybe my period is just coming early?” 

“Maybe? You did ride me pretty hard the last couple nights and put on a good show, so maybe they hurt from all that bouncing and-” 

“Frankie! We are in public!” You playfully scolded, giving him a flimsy slap to the chest to cut off the rest of his thought, the two of you quietly giggling to yourselves and trying to “Shhhh” each other from drawing too much attention to your dressing room stall. “The dress, you goofball, yes or no? Sooner we pick, the sooner we can go get food, because your wife is starving.” 

“I vote yes on the dress. You look beautiful in it, querida.” Frankie smiled, stepping behind you to press a kiss on the side of your head. 

“You just like it because it makes my boobs look huge.” 

“What? Can you blame me for wanting to stare at my gorgeous wife’s boobs all night?” 

“God, you are ridiculous, Fransisco. Fine, boob dress wins. Now let’s get out of here and go get some food before you get stuck in a titty trance and I die of hunger.” 

While the rest of your Saturday was spent enjoying the delicious Mexican food that you had picked up on the way home and a much needed night in on the couch with Frankie, there was a tiny part of your brain that couldn’t seem to shake his comment from earlier about how big your boobs looked. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree with him, because truth be told, they felt huge, too. They had been sore since you had woken up this morning, and while you had chalked it up to what you and Frankie had been up to the past few nights, or bad PMS symptoms, there was still just something about you that felt off. 

Later that night, during your movie marathon, you had paused whatever new action movie Frankie had been begging to watch since it had popped up on Netflix a few days ago for a popcorn refill. 

While Frankie meandered around the kitchen waiting for the next bag of popcorn to finish popping, you stayed curled up with your blanket in your corner of the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, until a sharp twinge began to cramp in your lower stomach. The feeling took you by surprise, digging your fingers into your side to try and ease the dull and achy sensation as your face scrunched in confusion, wondering why in the world you had what felt like period cramps in your belly. 

“Hey, you okay, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, returning with popcorn in hand, his face painted with concern to see the pained look scrunched between your brow as you curled deeper into the couch. 

“Oh, y-yeah, I’m fine. I just um, I just had a weird cramp I guess. Probably just ate all that popcorn too fast.” You replied, trying to convince yourself just as much as you were trying to convince Frankie that you were overthinking whatever mystery symptoms had just flashed through your lower half. 

“Here, lemme just set this popcorn down and then I can rub your back while we finish the movie, okay?” Frankie smiled softly, setting down the bowl on the coffee table before crawling back under the sea of blankets on the couch with you, laying your head against his thigh like a pillow while his hand traced up and down along the small of your back. 

“Thanks, Frankie.” You whispered quietly, taking a few deep breaths as the familiar warmth of your husband’s palm worked up and down the worn fabric of his shirt that you had put on earlier. 

“Of course, baby. If you need anything else, just let me know, okay? Just promise me you’ll take it easy on the popcorn if you have any more there, Killer.” 

The two of you laughed quietly as Frankie leaned down to press a soft kiss into your messy hair laid across his lap before picking up the remote to let the rest of the movie play as your eyelids began to get heavier and heavier as you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

“What’s inside this box?” 

“Open it up and find out! It’s a surprise for you!” 

“Okay? Huh, why is it just a pregnancy test in there?” 

“It’s yours! Congratulations! You’re having a baby!” 

“Ahhhhh!” You shrieked, panting as you woke from a cold sweat, shooting up from the couch. “What the fuck…” You whispered to yourself, coming to and realizing that you were now awake and had only been dreaming moments before this. Running your hands over your face, you blinked a few times to be greeted by the dim light of the TV still flickering in the background, Frankie sprawled out and snoring by your side where the two of you must have fallen asleep on the couch during the movie. 

“What a weird fucking dream…” You sighed to yourself, shaking your head as you quietly pushed yourself off the couch to stumble to the bathroom, pulling your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to check what ungodly hour of the night it had to be since the two of you had crashed on the couch. 

2:07 A.M. 

You let out a low grumble, pushing your sweatpants down to your ankles as you sat down to pee, blinking your eyes open wider to look through the notifications piled on top of each other on your lockscreen. Mindlessly swiping through a few junk emails and text messages from group chats, one notification in particular caught your eye, rousing you from your half awake state. 

“Feeling down? As you begin your Luteal Phase of your cycle, it’s normal to be less cheerful compared to last week when you were Ovulating! Click to track your cycle symptoms for today!” 

Oh shit.  

You could feel your heart beginning to race as you opened up the app, scrolling to the calendar tracker for the month. Swiping through the days, it didn’t take you long to realize that despite all of your weird symptoms you had been chalking up to PMS, you were almost two weeks away from starting your period. Frantically scrolling backwards, you began to try and rack your brain of all of the times in the past week that you had sex with Frankie while you would have been ovulating, and out of that number, how many times he hadn’t finished inside you, let alone even attempt to pull out. 

And that number was a big, fat zero. 

That’s when it hit you like a fucking freight train- You weren’t PMS-ing.

More than likely, you were pregnant. 

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling and heart pounding as you buried your face in your trembling hands, your mind flooding with a million different thoughts all at once. 

How could you not remember that you were ovulating? Would Frankie be upset? The two of you weren’t even trying for kids right now. Would you be a good Mom? What were you even going to need to do to prepare? Your house was starting to get small for just you and Frankie, let alone a baby. How were you going to find a new place to live in 9 months? And get a new car? How were you- 

“Baby, you good in there?” Frankie groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stumbled into the bathroom, letting out a yawn as he opened the door, bright light flooding into the hallway and revealing the sobbing mess you had become, still pants down, hunched over the toilet. 

“Woah, hey, hey, hey. Baby, baby, what’s going on? Talk to me, Hermosa. Are you okay? What happened?” You could feel Frankie’s demeanor immediately switch as soon as he saw you in the bathroom, instantly dropping to his knees by your side, his hands gently grabbing your face to shift your gaze towards him, carefully swiping his thumb to dry the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks. 

“Frankie, I- I- Fuck.” You stuttered, gulping hard as you tried to catch your breath, fighting back your nervous sobs as you locked eyes with Frankie, wondering how in the world you were ever about to brace him for the news you were about to tell him. 

“Hermosa, what is it? Please, tell me baby, what’s wrong?” Frankie pleaded, softly squeezing your face in reassurance as he waited for your response. 

You took a few more deep breaths, composing yourself enough to at least try to get a coherent thought out, swallowing hard as the words left your mouth. 

“Frankie, I-, Frankie, I think- I think I’m pregnant.” 

Frankie’s eyes went wide, his jaw practically hanging open as he tried to process what you had just told him, wondering if he hadn’t heard you right in his groggy state. 

“W-what?” 

“I think I might be pregnant, Frankie.” 

Before you could even bear the thought of looking at his face again, filled with fear that it would be a look of shock and disappointment, you buried your face in your hands again, fighting with everything in you not to cry and keep your composure. 

Frankie sat quietly for a moment, his hand covering up the gaping hole his jaw had made as it nearly hit the floor, shaking his head in disbelief before wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulling your hands to look at him. 

“R-really? You- fuck- You really think you’re pregnant?” 

As your eyes met his, you couldn’t believe the look on your husbands face- Not only was Frankie practically grinning from ear to ear, the sweet brown of his puppy dog eyes were welling with happy tears of their own, waiting on your every word as if he still didn’t believe what he was hearing. Silently, you began to slowly nod your head, biting down on your tongue, your heart feeling like it was about to shoot out of your chest. 

“You’re...y-you’re not upset?” You stammered, sitting up a little taller at Frankie’s reaction. 

“Upset? Hermosa, why in the world would I ever be upset?” Frankie laughed quietly, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as his other hand cupped your jaw. “Querida… There’s nothing more I want on this earth than to have a family. And-fuck- The fact that it gets to be with you? That you might give me a family? How could I ever be upset about that? 

“Well it’s not like we were really trying for a baby, Frank. We said another year or two. With the house and money -” 

“Hey. We’ll figure it all out, okay? I promise, we’ll be more than okay.” Frankie smiled, his goofy grin still stretched wide between his cheeks, finally easing some of your worry. 

“I don’t even feel like I’m old enough to have a kid. I feel like I need to call up MTV to tell them I’ll be on the next season of 16 and Pregnant.” The two of you snorted, shaking your heads in awestruck disbelief that a stupid joke about a reality TV show could soon become your reality. 

“Well considering we’re married, have a house, and most importantly, are much closer to 30 than we are 16, I think they may have a hard time pitching the show “Married Couple Has a Baby”.” Frankie teased, giving you a playful nudge as the two of you laughed, giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before trying to dig into details. “Did- Did you take a test? How long have you known?”

“No, I don’t know for sure yet, Frank. It’s… It’s just a feeling, I guess. But the huge, sore boobs, weird, period-like cramps and the fact that we really haven’t been the most careful are all pretty good clues.” 

“Well, I mean, I don’t know, we’ve tried to be care-” 

Before Frankie could even finish the rest of his thought, you were already giving him the sassiest look you could muster in your overwhelmed and sleepy state, making the two of you laugh again he let out a sigh of defeat. 

“Okay, yeah, we really haven’t been that careful at all. Sweetie, listen, I- I know it’s not what we had planned, but… I mean, if you are pregnant…” Frankie paused, smiling at your stomach as he gently place a hand over your belly, tears welling in his chocolate brown eyes, “Baby, I would be so excited. Nervous as hell, but so fucking excited.” 

“Me too.” You sniffed, looking down at Frankie’s palm splayed across your stomach, heart swelling at the thought of Frankie being dad, thinking of how sweet and caring and perfect he’d be as you grew your little family together. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Frankie in close, letting out a shaky sigh, whispering your words through happy tears. 

“I love you so much, Frankie.” 

“I love you so much too, Hermosa. More than anything.” 

For the sake of Frankie’s shoulder, you pulled away to wipe your tears to keep from soaking your husband’s shirt, quietly laughing to yourself at the fact that this whole time you had been talking to Frankie, you had still been pantsless, hunched over the toilet. 

“It probably would have been way more romantic to tell you all of this not at 2:30 in the morning, pantsless and hunched over the toilet like a little gremlin.” You snorted, Frankie following suit as he shook his head, running his hand through the sleepy curls of your hair. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, mi amor. C’mon, let’s get you up to bed.” 

As the two of you sleepily trotted your way upstairs, curling together under the warmth of your comforter with Frankie’s chest pressed against your back, you couldn’t help but smile as his arm draped over your stomach, hand resting on your belly while his thumb traced soft circles on your skin, imagining what it would be like if a few months from now if you really were getting ready to add another member to your family. 

The next morning, as the sunrise began to spill through your curtains, casting bright orange and pink shadows on your bedroom walls, you couldn’t help but stir as the familiar scent and warmth of Frankie’s body was missing from his side of the bed.

 As you sat up in the sea of blankets and comforters, softly rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you saw Frankie’s frame quietly sneaking through the bedroom door, fresh mug of coffee and bag of breakfast in hand with a stupid smile plastered across his face as he was greeted with your barely awake grin. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” Frankie cooed, setting down the coffee and breakfast down on your nightstand as he sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, pressing a tender kiss into the sleep-ridden ends of your hair before wrapping his arms around you in a long embrace. 

“Good morning, handsome.” You yawned, stretching your arms over your head, letting out a little grunt and laying your head on Frankie’s shoulder. “What’s all this for?” You asked, gesturing towards the coffee and oversized McDonald’s bag, assuming it was the reason for Frankie’s absence when you woke up. 

“I- I don’t know, I uh- I was just really excited when I got up this morning. It was early, and I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I made a trip to CVS to buy some pregnancy tests for you and figured I’d pick up breakfast on the way home.” Frankie smiled sheepishly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, brushing past his untamed morning curls. “I know- I know you can’t really take the tests yet- I spent a lot of time reading the boxes in the store and wasn’t really sure what the best one was to take, so I got like, 4 different ones for when it's time.” 

“God, you’re so sweet. You’re the best, you know that? It’s about to be a long week of waiting before I can take one of those. Do you- fuck, Frankie, do you think it could really be positive?” You asked, tears beginning to well in your eyes again as you smiled up at your husband, already beaming back at you, picturing the two pink lines showing up on all of the tests he had bought for you. 

“Maybe, if we’re lucky.” He smirked, gently cupping your face, swiping his thumb across your face. “But if it’s not, then maybe… Maybe we start trying for a positive one on purpose.” 

“R-really?” You grinned, biting down on your lip in excitement. 

“Really, really.” Frankie replied, bringing his lips to yours in a long, slow kiss, soaking in the sweet taste of you on his tongue. “And maybe…” 

“Maybe, what, Fransisco?” You giggled, bringing your mouth back to his in a sweet and sloppy kiss. 

“Maybe…. We start trying right now, ya know, just to be sure. Wouldn’t want all those pregnancy tests to go to waste.”

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @amyispxnk @samgirl4life @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3

[mikobeautifulheart]

JJK men when you flinch/think they would hit you.

TW: Assumed past abuse and the misleading idea that they would have hurt you (They wouldn't) AND UNEDITEDDDDD

aha kinda angst ig but kinda fluffy to?

INCLUDING: YUJI AND MEGUMIIIIII

~Yuji~

"Look I didn't know she liked me okay? Kugaraski just texted me to show up to the cafe, she didn't tell me anything."

"Really Yuji? But you knew her before didn't you? Could you not have seen this coming?"

Yuji pulls his hands down his face in frustration. He never thought going to a cafe would make him more annoyed.

"We talked once in High school okay? I didn't know she liked me."

"Its just, its not I don't trust you but she's been messaging me since yesterday about you, I DIDN'T EVEN GIVE HER MY NUMBER!" You said your voice over run with panic.

Yuji takes a deep sigh.

"OKAY, SO BLOCK HER." He yelled, his arm going up to scratch the back of his neck furiously when he noticed that you flinched and let a little gasp slip.

"Y/N-did you just...did you just flinch?" Yuji asked stunned you would ever think that.

He never knew about your previous relationships because you didn't like to talk about them or when ever someone brought your EX up you'd just change the subject or walk away.

"I...I don't know..." you whispered feeling something ripping you inside. You couldn't help it, it was just built into your system.

"I'm sorry Yuji...I just...I didn't see you for a second..." You paused.

He slowly took a step closer and you leaned backward.

"Y/N I would never-I wouldn't hurt you, I'm sorry I just got frustrated, I would never hurt you" He took another step a bit more confidently after seeing you didn't move back any further.

"Yuji i'm sorry" You broke down wiping the tears out of your eyes with his jacket sleeve, which you happened to be wearing.

He finaly reached you and closed the distance with an embrace, hidding your head into his chest.

"Did you really think I would hurt you?" Yuji said tears swelling in his eyes to.

"No, no no no, Yuji I know you would never hurt me because you love me, I just forgot what it was like to be loved by you. You Yuji, you" You burried your face deeper into his chest.

"I love you" he said wiping away his own tears

-Megumi-

You had just finished a mission and you were totally drained. All you wanted to do was go home and lay in Megumi's arms, you wanted it so much you could practically feel it on the whole trip home.

You fumbled with the keys before finally opening the door and walking in.

"I'm home" You mumbled to your self.

All the lights were out so you figured that Megumi was still away on a mission.

You peeled your clothes off and had a shower, crashing face first into your fluffy bed, it felt like heaven, the only thing missing was the angle.

Your phone buzzed beside you, it was Megumi.

"Hello?"

"I'm coming back now, don't talk to me when I'm back."

"What? Why-"

the phone beeped. He hung up on you. You rubbed your eyes in a daze, did you accidently hang up on him? You checked and no, he had just hung up on you.

An hour passes and you heard someone shake the door knob before a frustrated punch sound echoed through your dorm.

The door flung open in frustration, letting in a very agitated Megumi.

"Stupid cursed fingers and dammed curses I'll kill him myself I swear to god- " he muttered under his breath.

You could tell there was a lot of tension on his shoulders and that something bad happened today.

"Megumi? Do you want me to do anything or-"

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO TALK TO ME OVER THE DAMM PHONE WOMAN." He yelled angrily punching the wall next to him making your eyes widen.

Sighed and he walked over to you, making you step back stuck against a wall.

"No, Just UGH, LOOK Y/N Today I just-" Irritation ran through his body so much he didn't even notice that he had raised his arm to run his hand through his hair before he noticed you visibly flinching and whispering

"no" weakly, shutting your eyes tightly, your facial expression like you were going to brace yourself for something painful.

His breath hitched like he just came back to reality. He saw the tears swell in your eyes and he also saw the small cuts on your face. You had been through a lot to, the last thing you probably needed was Megumi being angrey.

"I-I'm so sorry Y/N" He said not even knowing what to do.

You were so tired and pushed to your limits that your body was even struggling to stand up right now. His face changed immediatly.

"I wasn't going to hit you- I swear, I just, 'was so frustrated at stuff and I- I'm sorry." he said taking a step back from you, watching you slowly slide down the wall looking at him.

It was like you were just waiting for it, like this was the end and you had accepted it.

"I, I don't- you weren't Megumi to me for a moment-" You said finally letting the tears go.

"I didn't think you would hit me but you looked like-him- for a moment..."

Megumi took a step slowly crouching Infront of you, holding both your hands.

"Y/N, listen to me. I'm so sorry but I want you to know I would never hurt you, and I never want to see you hurt, even if it meant that I would have to die, I never want to see you injured or scared of me, please forgive me." He said bringing your hands up to him mouth.

You silently nodded as Megumi helped you up and you both laid together in the bed, letting you cry it out.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: So I haven't uploaded in a while because...yeah. I have 2 more fics on the way, 1 Gojo angst and a different multi-character fic coming so stay tuned. (Reblogs welcomed if u were curious) Thanks for reading.

[inuyassa]

HELLO!!! Can i make a Luffy x F!reader (not dating YET but mutual pining) request where the reader gets injured during a fight but hides it from the crew because the victory party started, (and because after everything Luffy has been through recently the reader doesn't want him to worry) BUT she goes down half way through the party?

What is Luffy's reaction??

Angst to comfort ig?? does that make sense???

THANK.

OMG YOU KNOW I LOVE ME SOME ANGST!!!!!!! I hope this is what you were thinking/hoping!!

Luffy x F!Reader

Request

Angst/Comfort

Warnings: Mentions of Death, Blood, and Implied Injury. Some mature language.

Wake Up...

She gripped the edge of the bathroom sink as she placed another round of antiseptic on the wound.  It was a fresh laceration, bright red and still bleeding.  She had only received it a day ago while the crew was ashore and attacked by a local gang.  The fight was short lived, but she still took quite a few hits, and when one came at her with a knife…

It would be so simple to just go to Chopper and ask to be patched up, but by the time everyone made their way back to the ship, the party was underway.  Drinks and food and music, complements of Zoro, Sanji, and Brook respectively.  It was one of the first times since reuniting that the crew was able to celebrate a win together.  Luffy was overjoyed, his smile was back after so much pain…how could she ruin that by making him worry?

After another painful round of wound cleaner, she made her way back onto the deck.  Brook was jamming away on his violin while Sanji pined after Robin and Nami with plates of sweets and mugs of tea.  Zoro laughed through a half drunk bottle of sake while Luffy devoured a full serving of meat on the bone. The sounds of laughter once again filled the deck of the Thousand Sunny.  She smiled, her eyes growing heavy.  She braced herself against the nearby pillar and tried to stop the world from spinning. 

“Hey kiddo, you doing okay?” Franky walked up beside her, he had been making his way to the spread of food when he saw her loose balance.  She looked up at him, his smile faded when he saw how pale she looked, her skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat.  “Woah, buddy, you don’t look too good,” he said, putting a large, strong hand on your shoulder.  “You need me to get Chopper?”

She grinned, feeling the world swallow her up.  “Hey, Franky,” she began.  “Don’t let me hit my head okay?” Her legs buckled beneath her and she fell.  Franky lunged forward to catch her, easing her onto the ground.  “Kid? Kid! Hey, we need help over here!”

Franky’s voice cut through the jovial music, causing Brook to freeze and the rest of the crew to look towards him.  When Luffy saw her on the ground, he rushed over, leaving his half eaten meat behind.  Chopper followed closely behind, grabbing his bag from off the bench.  The rest of the crew shot over, hovering as she lay in Franky’s arms.  Her breath was short and shaky, her brow furrowed in pain.  Luffy looked her over with panic, that’s when he noticed the blood soaking into her shirt.  She was hurt.  He faltered backwards several steps before he fell to his knees, his heart beating loud and fast in his ears, his eyes full of fear.  Zoro noticed his Captain and knelt down in front of him.  “Luffy, you’ve got to stay with us okay?”

“Blood…” Luffy said, his voice hoarse and soft.  “She’s bleeding…”

Zoro grabbed his shoulders.  He might be the future Pirate King, but right now, he was that same little kid who just lost his brother.  “Look at me Luffy,” Zoro said, his voice stern but comforting.  “This is not like then, this is now.  She’s going to be fine.  You won’t lose her, understand?”  That’s when Zoro noticed the tears welling up in Luffy’s eyes.  He stared blankly ahead, his face locked.  “Blood…” he breathed.  “So much blood…”

“We need to get her inside,” Chopper said.  “She’s responsive but in a lot of pain.”  Franky nodded and stood up, slowly cradling her tense body in his arms.  She let out a pained yell as he did, and Luffy’s breath caught in his throat.  He stood up, shoving Zoro out of the way and running towards her.  He was tackled by Usopp who pinned the manic Luffy down.  “Calm down Luffy,” he yelled.  “You won’t be any help to her the way you are now.”

Luffy clawed at the ground, his fists filling with grass and dirt, he yelled for Usopp to get off him.  “I’m your captain,” he screamed, his voice raw.  “You do as I say and get the hell off me!”

A large, leather clad shoe pinned Luffy’s head to the ground.  Sanji stood above him, his eyes filled with rage and worry.  “You need to calm down Luffy,” he sneered.  “This isn’t helping anyone, especially not her!” 

Luffy fought against the pressure, but with his arms bound by Usopp, he wasn’t going anywhere.  His breath became fast and heavy, his body slowly losing the will to fight them off anymore.  Hot tears streamed from his eyes and he sobbed.  He let our months of repressed worry and fear.  Pain he thought he was over all came rushing back into him like a flood he couldn’t control…

***

“You gave us all quite a scare,” Chopper lectured her as he changed her bandages.  It had been two days since she collapsed at the party, and in that short amount of time, Chopper’s treatment had all but healed her.  “You’ll have a nasty scar, but other than that, your wound looks really good!”

She smiled, caressing the small doctor’s cheek.  “Looks like I owe you my life yet again Doctor.” Chopper began to blush, assuring her that her compliments could not fool him, and that she was a liar.  She laughed.  “Is Luffy around?  I haven’t seen him since I woke up.”

Chopper paused.  “He hasn’t really talked much to anyone on board.  He just sits at the helm and looks out at the sea…we’re all sort of worried about him.”

She sighed, looking out the small window at the ocean.  In an attempt to save Luffy the pain of seeing her hurt, she ended up making the situation much worse…

*** 

Luffy sat cross-legged, letting the sea breeze run its invisible fingers through his hair, his hat dangling around his neck.  The sun was getting ready to set, that would mean three days since he last saw her…

”Is this seat taken?”  Luffy’s head shot around to see her standing behind him, a small blanket wrapped around her.  His heart dropped to his stomach.  She looked so tired…

She must have taken his silence as a response and lowered herself down next to him.  His eyes never left her, afraid that if he so much as blinked she would disappear forever. “You don’t need to blame yourself, you know,” she began.  “I hid it from everyone.  I didn’t want to make you worry.  I guess that plan sort of backfired though huh?”

Luffy still only stared at her…”You were bleeding,” he began.  “And then you collapsed…just like he did.”

She looked at him.  “Luffy…”

“I thought you weren’t going to wake up too…”

Before he could say anything else she threw her arms around him, pulling him into her arms.  Luffy held onto her tight, burrowing his face in between her neck and shoulder.  She felt his body shake with silent sobs.  “I’m right here,” she whispered.  “I’m right here.  I’m not going anywhere I promise…”

[darlingofvalyria]

❝—Aemond, just shove your fist up my skirt!❞

part 02 | baby, all you gotta do is trust me

chapter summary:

[ Cregan is a menace in bed (sexily), Aemond is a menace on social media (derogatory), Helaena is a menace (lovingly). ]

[ 4,715 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— smutty beginnings, a bit angsty, mostly fluff - nsfw: p & v sex, orgasm denial, degradation kink, mating press - lemme just introduce you to firefighter!cregan stark ahe - toxic alysmond but both of them are at fault, fwb situations, fake dating, slow-ish burn - sad sack aemy is a pathetic meow meow - viserys i has a spank kink, no i will not elaborate further - no use of y/n - no gods, no kings, no betas.

a/n— it's entirely my fault, i know. i made cregan too hot. aemond might be a bit op w/ his relationship with reader, but he & her have a comfortable past...soz. comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

There's this thing that Cregan does with his hips.

It's always that sweet spot when your legs are either over his shoulders or haphazardly splayed against his waist, wide open as he drilled into you like a miner trying to find gold (and he would argue that in fact, your orgasms are gold to him)—

There's that moment when he feels you clenching, when you're so close to the precipice of seeing heaven that the motherfucker of the North slows down, sweat-slicked and breathing hard, he slows down enough at the haze of you reaching orgasm where he just.

Produces waves across his body, keeping a slow, toe-curling momentum with his hips, body-waving his dick in and out of you in a slow but purposeful movement— and he's smirking down atyou're fucked out state growing irritated doing something for him.

And before you're truly out of that orgasmic state, about to curse his entire bloodline of ruined orgasms forever or push him off his own godsdamned bed and break his stupidly good penis, he's bracing himself against the side of your head, laughing— not meanly, just amused, the asshole —and asks, almost like he's just asking you for the weather, "Does the pretty little slut want to cum?"

And he's not really asking, because he's grasped your thighs, shoving you into a mating press, and having you see stars in seconds.

"You think my neighbours called 911?" he muses, fixing his hair while in front of the floor length mirror in his room as you lounge about lazily on his bed, already washed and dressed for your own shift at Meleys, sans your pants. That's still in the living room from where Cregan yanked it.

"Hm?" you ask idly, not really focused on the conversation as you scrolled through IG, rolling your eyes at Aegon's post; Hel's big brother was in Ibiza getting sun-tanned in the morning (as much as his pale as fuck skin could tan) and getting it down at clubs at night, liking it nevertheless.

"Your scream at the end there was so loud, I'm pretty sure you broke Mrs. Beesbury out of her coma." You look up at Cregan's menace of a grin, playful and goofy in his tight shirt and thick work pants for his shift at the fire station. "I might be expecting five jars of honey from Mr. Beesbury as thanks."

You roll your eyes at him, laughing. He always got like this post-orgasm; loose and goofy and prone to making the dumbest jokes. It's cute, and on a good day, it does it for you.

It's not like you don't find Cregan attractive. It's how you got into this FWB situation with him in the first place; the dark hair, the scruff on his face, the firefighter bod— and by the Seven, what. A. Bod — when he and his co-workers stumbled into Meleys two months back, seeing your former high school crush aged up and hot had you on your knees for him in the back alley faster than he can hold you from the roots of your hair and grunt.

On a good day, it's easy to see getting past the easy arrangement of sending emojis to alert you wanna get dicked down and him sending a tongue and a heart, sending memes just for the hell of it at random parts of the day— breaking the easy friendship, the nice arrangement, and see where it gets you two, with Stark. On a good day, you can be submerge in the what-if, cute couple-y scenarios and giggle.

But despite the orgasm that could shatter a septa's vows quicker than you can say 'Oh holy Mother', your good day was tentative, broken with a click.

Aemond had made his first social media post since breaking up (the latest one) with Alys.

A darkened bathroom with explicit, orange-glowed lights that covered most of his person but not the slick show of water, freshly showered, against his torso, his chest, his abs. Droplets clung in places one would imagine licking him all over.

You know that bathroom to be the one in his high class gym, one of his favourite places. Since the toxic cycle with Alys started, he frequented it more. Aemond Targaryen was a man of routines and sharp o'clocks, so you know this isn't particularly off-key for him. But the posing (mostly) completely bare with water on his wiry muscles?

"Oh, this whore." You can't help it, as much as it irritated you— because it is clearly a means to get it across that he is newly single without actually saying anything, you can just imagine his DMs firing up with notifs — you couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity.

Aemond Targaryen. Publicly posting a thirstrap.

As public as his social media can get, it's a private account with less than 200 people.

A call rings in your phone, Helaena's face flashing, and you're still giggling when she half-shrieks, "DID YOU SEE HIS IG STORY OH MY GOD."

Your gaze meets Cregan, his bushy, dark eyebrows firing upward upon being able to hear Hel's voice while you winced. You put her on speaker as Cregan giddily comes closer to the phone.

"Good evening to you too, Helaena," you say warmly, giving Cregan's arm a light kick, mouthing, 'Don't you have work?'

Stark had the audacity to shush you, pressing a finger against his lips. You mouth, 'Gossip.' In a mature response, he stuck his tongue out.

Truly a wonder that not twenty minutes ago, this man had you keening over an orgasm.

Helaena continues on, "— I've had enough of this. I already have one slutty brother, I cannot have another one. There can only be two sluts in this family and no more. And that backlit? Seven hells, the whorishness."

"Hel, babe, you are not a slut." You meet eyes with Cregan who waggles his eyebrows, pursing his lips in an air kiss. "Trust me."

Hel snorts. "I know that, I meant my father. The whore of Babylon got nothing on Viserys first of his name, spank king extraordinaire."

If you could simultaneously choke on air and saliva, you would. "Helaena Targaryen!"

Cregan smacked his entire face down on his bed and ate his covers to muffle his laughter, his body shuddering as he did his best. His ass did look good in this view.

"What? Stranger may have mercy on me, but I tell you, before he died and before their marriage imploded, and at times traumatically problematic, they sure did get it freaky when they could. They gave it a good run and traumatised me in the process. I shouldn't have insisted my room was that close to them, maybe I would have ended up being an upstanding citizen of the community."

Cregan flips up, giggles spilling him as he muffled it with his hands. You kicked him again, trying to keep him away from your phone lest Hel figure out where you were again.

"Helaena, my love, compared to your brothers, you are such an upstanding person of the citizenry, the mayor should be giving you an award at this point."

"Right? Maiden have mercy, how busy do you think your shift is going to be tonight?"

You bit your lip guiltily while Cregan smirked, standing up as he finished lacing his boots. Hel thought you had gone straight to work, making up excuses about trying out a new recipe for next month. "Um. Not sure? Probably not by much, it's a weekday."

You don't lie, not really. Cregan mouths 'liar' and throw a pillow at him.

"Good, I'll send Aemond to you tonight. I already told him yesterday and he kind of just made a noncommittal hum— praise hands for another traumatised child of Alicent Hightower who has his own brand of communications issues —" You can just see Helaena's hard eye roll, and you massaged your lips to keep your laughter. The first time you met Hel, you never would have thought she slapped-back self-deprecating jokes out of her pockets faster than you can think a response to the last one. She was sweet, kind, a floral, bohemian girl with her pastel lavender pants and daisy flower clips.

And then you met her, vibed, and there was a dark funny humour to Helaena Targaryen that you always fought just bursting out laughter at the most inopportune of moments.

As sweet and floaty as she appeared, she was a menace.

"— anyway, Mr. Social Whore is going there later tonight, I made him promise. I said if you don't tell me he didn't come, I'm posting every photo I have of him from his naked baby pics to pre-pubescent Teen Teeny-Weeny Aemond, I do not care."

You whistle. "Damn, Hel, okay, I'll tell you when he comes."

"Good. OPLAN Get Aemond Out of This Bad Track Before He Fully Becomes Aegon 2.0 has now commenced. I love my brothers, I truly do, but I can only handle one Aegon at a time. I cannot be scrolling through social media in fear for my life times two, bestie, I refuse." Hel's voice pitches. "I'll talk to you later, bye, babe."

"Bye, Hel!"

Before you could put the phone down, she calls out, teasing, "BYE CREGAN!"

Silence. Then Cregan laughs, calling out, "Bye, Hel!"

The last thing either of you heard is her tinkling giggle before she drops the call.

"Fuck," you mutter, call finished.

Cregan wolf-whistles. "She's good."

You throw another pillow. "It's because you kept giggling like a schoolgirl!"

"Excuse me, that was a manly schoolgirl giggle, I'll have you know." He picks up his keys, winking. "Come on, I'll drop you off at the bar before I pole dance the night away to my job."

You cracked, snorting through the mental image of Cregan Stark, Lead Firefighter of the Ice Wolves Division, shaking his ass on the pole. You pad to the living room. "I'll give you a dollar for your troubles."

"Cheap ass!" he shouts after you.

Aemond arrives two hours into your shift, a little awkward— no doubt remembering your silent judgment of him the morning of his post-break up affair as that has also been the last interaction you've had with him before this, almost a week ago, and now here, meeting you at the insistence (and plotting) of his sister.

Your eyes meet ice water blue. He freezes, then straightens up, giving you a shrewd tilt forward. A nod. It's jerky, mechanical. You roll your eyes, mouth twitching, before you motion him over.

You are already making his favoured drink starter, Sazerac, when he slides into an empty seat on the bar. Your back is to him, refusing anymore interaction, and you know the usual comfort he finds in the eased silence you provide is nonexistent.

Out of all of Helaena's brothers, you've always liked Aemond the most. You teased him it was because the others are Aegon, duh, and Daeron, still in high school and never really around you "old people", but it's also because it's so easy to be around Aemond. When Helaena introduced you to the tall, lithe man who hummed politely at his sister's introduction of you, you found him intriguing.

It's not just the scarred eye, or the pretty, almost marble-statue visage (because by gods, seriously. The Mother took her sweet, loving time crafting the fourth Targaryen, bloody hell— like those cheekbones? With that cupid's bow lip? Okay, Mother, you have your favourites, we get it), or that he tended to keep himself in the background, let everyone else stretch into the conversation.

He often dipped in and out of the social pool like a mirage; a trick of the eye. A nod, a hum— almost, always an answer to someone else's direct question or someone— usually Aegon — dragging him into the conversation with an anecdote needing an input, not matter how inane.

And it intrigued you.

You took yourself and your drink of choice at the time— a Shirley Temple — and sat right beside him. He looked up at you, that one eye of violet widening slightly because you had just. Plopped beside him, thighs touching, before he smoothens out his expression, shifting at your direct eye contact and small smile.

"Can I... help you?" he finally asks, thoroughly waylaid but trying not to appear so.

"The scar." You nodded to his face as he froze. "Tell me about it."

His face had been so controlled, so guarded, when he tersely said, "My sister didn't tell you?"

"Nope. It's not something for her to tell me, isn't it? It's a personal thing. Most scars are." You shrugged. "Even if they aren't, I'd prefer if you tell me. It's your body. Your body your story."

He stared at you for a quarter of a minute before he asked, "Are you drunk?"

"No, why?"

"You're too... forward."

You smirked. "I've been told. So are you telling me or nah, pretty boy?"

And he stared at you for a minute longer, or two, or three— the stare flickers to emotions so fast; shock, confusion, flatter, his own intrigue — before he told you about a stupid fight between children, about a stupid reason par another, and though his words had been concise, obviously keeping a hell of a lot more between vowels and tightened jaw, you don't press him. You let him talk.

At the end, you said, "Badass. Definitely less of a lame reason than what I was imagining, but 9/10 story. Your voice really sold most of it. It's good for telling stories."

In his brain, you could just see the click when his eyes flicked to his sister and back to you. Ah, so that's how they're friends. And he hums, truly, more than anything, stumped by you. And you smiled.

"You're definitely going to be my favourite Targaryen Brother."

It's no wonder then, that you two had gotten close. You had forced a friendship out of him, and the very unattached guy to literally anything new— suspicious of offerings, angry at pity, wary of kindness — had taken into it with a white flag.

So when the whole Alys situation happened, things shifted.

"Sazerac," you announce finally, placing the drink in front of him. He thanks you with a quiet hum, having stopped fidgeting now that you've acknowledged his existence. You raise your eyebrow as his sips turns to gulp, crossing your arms.

Just because you had promised Hel you were going to help him, doesn't mean you were going to make it easy for him. He knows you're pissed; despite the calm structure he had composed himself in, you can see the twitch in his fingers, the way his eye turned away from you the moment you refused to project your normal, warm aura with him.

He settles his drink down, watching the rim of the glass for a minute before he speaks, low and steady. "You're angry with me."

You snort softly. "Wonder why you think so?"

He sighs. "I didn't mean to. To let it get this... messy." He winces at the word, hating it.

You sigh. "Aemy." He comes alive at the familiar nickname, sitting straighter, a relief on the edge of a cliff. "Honestly, I don't give a shit. You want to be trapped in this mess? You don't want to listen to other people tellign you, 'hey dude, maybe no?'"

He winces, remembering the third time he and Alys had broken up. The police car, Aegon vomitting, Hel crying. It makes you roll your eyes.

"Sure, have at it. Have fun, in fact. There's only so much sympathy I can give you for seeking out the problem that you know is a problem before I get tired. Before I stop giving a shit, because there's someone else I love that is starting to get hurt by it. I can only love you enough as much as you are willing to help yourself." Your eyes then narrow, half-glaring into him. "But what I'm truly getting angry about is how much this is affecting Helaena."

"I understand." He sighs again, calling your name but you raise a hand.

"Hold on, I have a bone to pick with you."

"Okay."

You look at him. A second. He waits. And waits.

He speaks up. "Yes?"

You sigh. It's hard to stay mad at him, you've always found so. "I don't know. I had paragraphs to say to you in front of a mirror, but now that it's you I'm looking at, everything just went away." Under your breath, you mutter, "stupid pathetic meow, meow face."

His mouth twitch. Ah. The familiar Targaryen smugness. Pinch Cocky Aemond is back. "Did my face distract you too much, ñuha riña my lady?"

You roll your eyes, unable to hide your own smile. If you called him Aemy, he called you the High Valyrian, his ancestral tongue, my lady. To tease, to establish comfort. You've always liked this better, being closer to Aemond than despising him for his stupid choices and big feelings he has a hard time unraveling, so he makes said stupid choices.

It's ease, it's familiarity, and you both fall into a high step.

"Okay, nerd, so what did Hel—" A customer calls you. "—One sec. Sorry about that, what can I get you? Ooh, nice choice, alright give me a minute." As you pulled a measuring cup and gin, you nod back to Aemond. "What did Hel tell you we're doing exactly?"

"That you're helping me... with Alys." A hesitance. "I know you don't like her—"

"— whoa, hold up, Aemy, I like her. I like her very much. I think she's a bad bitch, absolutely sexy, and clearly, she has good tastes which I respect her for." He had the good graces to blush, still sort of unused by the compliments you so freely give him. "What I don't like is how your relationship with her— here, hey, you're welcome! — has evolved. You were so good with each other, Aemy. And then..."

You mimic a sound of a crash and burn, and a tiny person screaming. He huffs out a laugh before sobering.

"I know." He sighs. "I don't... I don't understand it myself. There's a part of me that recognises I should walk away. And then there's another part that is just... it's Alys."

His palms, open and upturned, falls on the counter. Pensive. Begging. A confused, wanting penitent looking up at a god asking for direction. "I've loved her for so long." His voice quiets, like the words are sacred.

"I've loved her for so long," he repeats as if the words have worn itself out on his tongue, "it's hard to see past her. Ñuha riña, she has always been my future. It's all her. I don't know anything else outside of her."

You pour an Arbor Gold in a stemmed glass and pushes it to him. It's his favourite drink and he smiles at you, at the care, at the memories.

"I understand that," you say carefully. "And I already promised Hel I'd do it, whatever you need of me, to make her see you. But you should know that I'm doing this more for her than for you because... Aems, I believe you deserve so much more. A love that's exciting without it being harmful. A love that's pretty, as easy as breathing. One that doesn't hurt at the edges and pinches like a barbed wire."

"Is that possible for me?" he asks ironically, trying for a joke but you catch that lilt at the end. At that exhale. So much of his history had been broached by pain, borne from it. There are injuries that run so deep, they continue to bleed.

"Honestly?"

He places the wineglass down. "Yes."

You smile. "Yes."

You don't know if he believes you, or if he just indulges in your starry-eyed view of his future, but he smiles nevertheless, as best as he can and murmurs a gratitude.

It's pacifying, insecurity. You let it go for now because there's nothing you can say to a person truly down to trust your words.

"You're going to do this, then?" he asks. "For Alys and I?"

You shake your head. "I'm doing this for Hel and no chores for a month." And you, to show you that there's more past a future that you and I both know doesn't exist anymore. That if you prolong it, ignore how deep the barbed wire has gotten into your skin, it'll be too hard to untangle it when you realised you've bled out enough.

So will you just wear the pain proudly after that?

You shake another order in place, pulling ice and mint. You raise an eyebrow. "I've always known I was going to help. Are you willing to do this? Honestly Aemy, this can go two ways. One, she'll realise losing you is the worst thing that can ever happen— truly losing you to someone else, or two, she thinks you're truly moving on from her. And that's assuming she even thinks it's real, like I mean come on, it's me and you."

He arches a perfect silver eyebrow. You had already asked him if he gets his eyebrows done, and apart from Helaena messing with him back in high school, has been all natural. You think he's lying.

"And what is me and you?"

"Aemy, come on. I'm your sister's best friend. We're like... I dunno, family? She's always known that."

"Doesn't mean she's never felt jealous of you," he hums, swirling his wine with pinch fingers. It's elegant. Entrancing. The red liquid swirls and there are knots and strain in his hand, going through his arm.

And despite the bags under his eye, he still looks so good. Silvery blond hair wrapped in a low half updo, the shirt that hid nothing of his muscled chest.

His words sink in, breaking you from the hypnotizing reverie of looking at a marbled statue. "What? She felt jealous of me?"

He smiles gently, a little bit cockily. "Ñuha riña. Of course she did. Just because she understood your place in my life, in Hel's, doesn't erase the fact that you're gorgeous and we get along well. She liked you, truly, but she isn't blind. It's nothing that you've done, even she knew that. You're just too perfect."

You blink at him, unable to stop yourself from blushing. He chuckles meanly.

"Shut up."

He exhales a laugh. "I didn't say anything!"

"You know what you did." You give him the stink eye before you serve two more customers, thanking at a pretty hefty tip from one of your regulars, bidding him goodnight as he left. It is a slow night, you didn't lie to Helaena.

You almost don't catch Aemond murmuring, "I've missed this. I've missed you. I never like it when you're pissed at me."

"Good," you joke. "So you can watch yourself better. But yeah, I've missed you too. So how are we doing this?"

"I thought you had an idea, having agreed to Hel's plan before I even knew there was a plan."

You roll your eyes. "Well, I've had a few ideas here and there... it's more your comfort I'm worried about."

He frowns, pouty lips pursing. "My comfort?"

You place your palms behind the bar and hitch yourself up by your physical strength. He leans forward, confused still. You smirk. "Well, Aemy, I'm wearing a skirt."

"I... I don't know what that means, ñuha riña." He blinks his one good eye. "Nice skirt? You look pretty."

You force a pout instead of getting flustered by the compliment out of the blue. "I forgot you weren't all that popular in high school."

"No need for insults," he deadpans.

You laugh. "We're going to make Alys jealous, right? It'll be too much to hard launch my new status of existence in your life when you just broke up... but... if we can allude, at least..."

"I-" His frown deepens, the skin on his other eye, the scar, pinches as you see his mind whirr and whirr where your mind was reaching. "I'm still confused."

"Gods, alright, I'll just show you."

"Dude, bro, just put your hand under my skirt—"

"Ñuha riña—"

"Yeah, you know what, godsfuckingdamnit, if I alienate you that bad just shove your fist up my skirt, yes, Aemond, just shove your fist up my skirt!"

He calls your name, tips of his ears beet red, as a few patrons turn to you two, bewildered and a little amused. You wave at them but you sigh noisily at him. You're sat beside him on the counter, your phone on one hand with the camera app open, and you're glaring at him.

"Are you seriously telling me you've never placed your hand on Alys' thigh?"

"Of course I have!" He lets out a strangled sigh and groan.

"What's the difference?"

"I've never done it so publicly," he explains as calmly as possible, as if he's talking to a child. "And with the idea of posting it for everyone else to ogle. I've always just done it... under a table. Or. On her knee..."

"You're blushing so hard, you look like a tomato?" You snort. "I'm your fake Alys now, and we're soft launching an intimate relationship. This is basic."

"You're not my fake Alys. You're not my fake anytihng and you're not Alys." he says seriously, frown sharpening into a point before he exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can't it just be my hand over yours?"

 You frown, forgoing the uncomfortable twinge from not my anything and not Alys. "Is this uncomfortable for you? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"It's not that, never that." He purses his lip. "It's the opposite. I don't want to make you uncomfortable with my touch."

"Aemy," you say softly, smiling slightly. "I am giving you permission. Wouldn't have suggested it otherwise. And you touching me has never made me uncomfortable. Now, come on. Hand on my thigh, pretty boy, so I can take this pic and get the ball rolling."

There's a second more of restraint, of holding back, and before you sigh and suggest something else— maybe he is truly uncomfortable with you, with you not being anything to him, and not being Alys, but is too polite to say anything — he places his palm, warm and heavy, against your exposed thigh.

It's a... new sensation. You've held hands with Aemond before, smacked it a few times even, but it's different when it's on a more... well, when it's not on a non intimate area of your body. New skin, new nerve endings to his familiar warmth and crease.

It makes you swallow how big his hand is compared to your whole ass thigh. Thumb to pinky and he nearly swallows the gaps.

He really has pretty hands. Knotted veins twisting upward to muscled arms.

Both of you nestle in the quiet, just staring at his hand over your thigh.

"Okay," he says, voice even. He's taller than you, always taller even when you're both sat down, and he's closer to the top of your head at this distance, his breath flutters against your hair. "What now?"

"I... take the picture." You blink, shaking your head slightly, as you take his drink and add your hand within the frame so it looks like you mean to take a photo of your drink and not the glaringly obvious hand on your thigh, before you you angle it. You take one, two, three. A few different angles before you feel you've got a few nice ones. "Okay, done."

It feels cold when he takes his hand away, giving your thigh a soft tap before it's back on the counter. He hums.

You get back on the work, choosing one and posting it promptly on your stories. You place Meleys' location and a kiss mark emoji before you post it.

"It does look intimate," Aemond hums, observing the story from his own phone. "But why did you post it on your account and not mine?"

"She's your ex, Aemy," you say, hopping off the chair and moving back behind the counter. The world re-orbits. Everyone back in their positions, the lines clear. The planets move in their normal trajectory again.

"She'll know it's your hand. And if we post it on mine, it has more of an impact, don't you think? We're friends on IG. She sees it on my stories, a man's hand on her thigh, in a background that's no doubt a bar. The hand is sorta familiar. And you posted that slutty mirror pic earlier tonight."

He blushes, you smirk. Planets and moons orbit back, their pace slow, their lightyears fast. Best friend's sister. Sister's best friend.

"If she doesn't recognise your hand at first, your story will prompt it on her brain. It's not a hard connection, you've been together for years. It's a girl thing. An exes thing. Bingo bango, the brain is running. Surely it isn't Aemond's hand? Even if it is... is it truly romantic?"

He exhales. "You're... kind of an evil genius."

"Just kind of? Damn." And you smile because he laughs, the sound spreading warmth across your chest.

Yeah, this is better. It always feels good when you and Aemond are on the same team, when you're not mad at him and vice versa, no matter how stupid the reason.

Saturn rings snap, black holes sink and swim in galaxies so far, far away.

You put your phone on DND as soon as the first five notifs pop up, prompting a barrage of other notifications. When you took a glance at it, it's all a varying degree of 'WHAT THE FUCK', 'WHO THE FUCK', and 'GO GET THAT DICK, GIRL OMG!!'

Only Helaena's message matters, and it brings a smile on your lips.

 'Noice'.

Another ping.

'Also— what a bunch of harlots'.

You show it to Aemond and both of you burst in stupid laughter.

TAGLIST (message to be added! please ensure you are able to be tagged to get notifs): @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr

[propertyofkylar]

kinktober day 11: tender (m!whitney x f!reader)

word count: 1087

tags/warnings: tenderness (im a deredere whitney truther), canon-compliant violence mentioned, regular whitney name-calling, penetrative sex, public sex kinda ig they're in the school bathroom

“You really are such a stupid slut.”

Your feet dangled beneath the bathroom counter you were sitting on, the pile of used and crumpled up paper towels growing each minute. You clenched the hem of your shirt in your hands. “I’m sorry.”

Whitney rolled his eyes, dabbing blood away from your nose with a surprising amount of tenderness as he stood between your legs. “Don’t apologize. That’s stupid. Just don’t fucking do it next time.”

You opened your mouth, another apology about to spill out almost automatically, but you quickly closed it, opting for a brief nod instead - one that didn’t impact Whitney’s cleaning of your face. “…yeah. You’re right.”

He sighed and added the paper towel to the pile. “I don’t know what you were thinking.”

You frowned. “I was thinking I could take those guys in a fight…”

Whitney shook his head and held your face in his hands, examining you closely. “Should’ve just got me. I could’ve made it all go away. Dumbass.”

He was acting nonchalant, but you could tell that your boyfriend actually was worried about you. Despite the pain you were in from having the shit beaten out of you, your heart swelled with affection, and you gave him a small smile. He quickly looked away, but the tips of his ears were turning red. “Whatever,” he muttered, clearing his throat and turning back to you with a smug look on his face. “Though, I gotta say, slut. You look pretty hot covered in blood.”

“Oh, do I?” You said teasingly, placing your hands on Whitney’s shoulders. 

He nodded. “Yeah. So now where’s my thanks for patching you up, mm?”

Your lips met with Whitney still cradling your face, and you sensed a bit of hesitancy from him. He was holding himself back to not aggravate your bruises, you realized. The uncharacteristic gentleness from Whitney further aroused you, and you deepened the kiss. 

Whitney groaned into your mouth, bracing his hands on your thighs now as he leaned into you. You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible. He slotted perfectly between your legs, his groin pressed right up against the edge of the counter. Needing him impossibly closer still, you wrapped your legs around his waist, enveloping him in you. Now, he was right in front of where you needed him most, your aching cunt bare under your skirt and just inches away.

That movement made Whitney chuckle. “Needy little slut,” he breathed against your lips. And you couldn’t deny it, you were desperate. The heat was growing inside of you, and you needed to share it with him. So all you could do was nod. 

He quickly undid his pants, exposing his thick, hard cock. Just the sight of it made you moan involuntarily, and Whitney smirked as he spit into his hand and idly stroked his shaft. “I’ve trained you well,” he said smugly. 

At this point, you were starting to feel like you might go crazy if you didn’t have him inside of you. “Please, Whitney,” you whispered, and felt pleased when his face turned pink.

But he shook it off. “So desperate you’ll beg without me even telling you to,” he muttered, hiding his face from you. Then he leaned forward and slid himself into your sweet, aching heat. 

You started moaning the instant his tip entered you. Whitney was still moving slowly, as if any sudden movements could break you. It was sweet; the odd ways your boyfriend showed he cared, since he seemed allergic to any other forms of affection. But it was also frustrating, considering how horny you were - how horny he had made you.

Soon, his full length was buried in you, and you whined at how full you felt. “Feels good,” you mumbled, your head dropping to his shoulder. 

You heard him laugh in your ear, but it was breathy. “Such a slut, you even want my cock when you’re injured. No sense of self-preservation, eh?” 

You shook your head, tugging at his hair. “More.”

Whitney started to thrust into you, slowly at first but gaining speed each time he moved. “Feel s’good around me,” he groaned, biting the shell of your ear and trailing wet kisses down your neck. One hand came to rub at your clit, and the feeling had you arching your back.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your fingers threading through his hair further. That seemed to ignite Whitney, whose hips were moving quicker still while his thumb rubbed circles on your most sensitive spot.

“Falling apart - hah - right in front of me,” Whitney groaned again, though he seemed to be falling apart himself. “Glad those guys just beat you up and nothing more, I - ngh - don’t want anyone’s hands on my slut.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as the heat intensified in your belly. “‘m your slut, Whit,” you whined. “Harder!”

He did as you demanded, slamming his cock into you and bumping the perfect spot in your walls. “J-just like that! Ah, ah, Whitney, please…” you were babbling and you knew it was complete nonsense, but he had you so fucked out you couldn’t form comprehensive thoughts. He always did that - Whitney knew your body as well as he knew his own at this point, and he knew exactly the right angles and touches to have you come undone each time.

It was too much to bear. Your fingers practically yanked his hair out as you came around his perfect cock, stars dancing before your closed eyes. A cry slipped out of your mouth as the climax hit, and Whitney’s shaky grunts as his hips pistoned into you signaled that his own orgasm wasn’t too far behind. 

“F-fuck, slut,” he panted. You opened your eyes to see his face red and sweaty. Now Whitney definitely was the one falling apart. He suddenly pulled out of you, stroking his twitching dick as ropes of cum shot out and splattered across your bare thighs. Once he was finished, breathing heavily, he leaned in and gave you a rough, biting kiss.

“There,” Whitney said as he pulled away, running his hand through his hair and looked down at the cum on your legs. “Now you’re marked. Those fuckers’ll leave you alone next time. I’m sure of it.”

He tucked himself back into his pants, swept the crumpled paper towels into the trash, and then grabbed your hand to pull you off the counter. “Now let’s get the fuck outta here, slut. This place is nasty.”

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

Ghostface!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader PART II

TW[updated]: Stalking, Breaking and entering, bandages, insert of foreign deadly material into privates, somnophilia, dacraephilia, Non-con, dubious con, Con-Non-con (at sm point i hope), bondage, knife play, rape kink, possessive!Spencer, murder threats, kinda forced bj, Creampie, degradation, dvp, BWC ig,(Idk what else BUT BRACE YOURSELF)

He continued to watch you, how you reacted to his light touches. He wanted to laugh at how you seemed to think it was a dream. However his patience kept being overrun by his need to corrupt you, every single inch of you. To ruin you for any man you dared to run to.

He thought about you, hickies splayed all over your neck, lips swollen, cum all over your breasts, cum also leaving out of both your holes.

He felt his cock tighten in his briefs.

Now

He took of your shirt with his knife and started to kneed your breasts, your breaths came in heavy but quiet sighs. You were enjoying this. He wanted to know how you'd feel if you realised who was making you feel this way.

He kissed down your neck leaving visible hickeys all round. He watched in awe as your pussy started to leak, how your hips seemed to grind into thin air.

He took caution to the wind and leaned in, he nipped the groove of your neck as he went down to your breasts he took one in his mouth.

Like clockwork your back arch a moan escaped your lips. For a moment he wondered what his cock around your lips would feel like.

One at a time.

First he was going to fuck you awake.

He remove his belt and kept it to the side, he might need that for you later. He brough out his cock and held it firmly in his hand. For weeks he'd been dying to know how your soft little cunt felt like.

And today was the day.

Now.

He slipped the head through and felt euphoria wash over him. That's when you woke up. He got harder as he watched you trash around. The very sight made him harder. He gripped your hips and planted them into the bed.

"Easy now, fuck, you feel so good around my cock," he thrust in sending your back into an arch. You started to cry at the intrusion.

"Fuck even when you're crying you're still so dam fuckabke, fuck I've wanted to see how you'd look around my dick for so long," Your breath started to get heavier as your orgasm approached. "Fuck i should have brought a camera fucking record you,"

"Please...please..." You didn't know whether you were begging for him to stop or for him to go fsster. He went faster ramming into you at an inhuman speed.

"You wanna cum so badly don't you, alright, he leaned in, "Cum for me," he said as he bit into your neck.

You came with a scream, your body feeling ten times lighter, buzzing away. You almost forgot about the man inside you.

"Will you be good girl for me? Hmm?" He says as he cuts your bindings, you're too weak to do much. All you could do was just be. Spencer chuckled as he stayed in you.

"Come here," he said. "We're not done yet," You were soon on his lap, warming up his cock, occasionally he'd thrust up and then make your hips thrust down on it hard and fast leading you to come even more. You were so sensitive that you started to cry.

"I'll have so much fun with you, turning you into my little cumslut"

***

Taglist:

@controversialkattyluv

@bunny-script

@futuremrsreid

[akascow]

lol viktor and jayce mutually just one upping each other in terms of Pretty but through progressively more fucked up ways in the show HAHA

in the beginning its normal theyre both like oh no hes hot and autistic and he likes science ?? fuck me up or wtvr

n then viktor emerges from The Goop (naked) with this shiny ourple body and unkempt Wet Cat™️ hair and rainbow eyes and jayce is like wtf he rejected me ? thats kinda hot i can fix him

n then jayce fucks off to the deep trenches and only kinda goes mad and sees viktors face in the fire while he hallucinates but climbs up to the top of the tower and yells at the mage and the mage turns around and its DILF VIKTOR with long hair and a cute lil Nickleback beard who basically says i love you in every timetime and jayce is like well i didnt know i was into older guys but *kink unlocked* okay ig

n then mage viktor blasts present viktor with Gay Thoughts like hey ur bf is coming and he looks hot as fuck u need to brush ur hair and add some lil blonde highlights and start levitating while only wearing that fuckass blanket he gave u so that when he walks in he accidentally gets an upskirt shot of ur hextecles hashtag make him jealous or wtvr

n then jayce emerges from the Anomaly all fucked up with long messy hair, covered in blood and battle scars, a matching leg brace and a depression beard trying to kill him and viktors like oh fuck *kink unlocked* HE GOT HOTTER ??

n then viktor emerges from the Life Support Orb all Machine Herald'd out looming over jayce with his bigass feet and brand new Cunty body still wearing that fuckass blanket and grabbing him by the neck and jayce is like holy shit *kink unlocked* and also hes taller than me now ? i need him in me on top of me right now

n then they meet in the Astral Plain and theyre [naked] both basked in all the colors of the rainbow surrounded by pretty stars and the cosmos, just them alone together with no outside world distractions and theyre both like OH FUCK HES GORGEOUS im gonna propose to him

n jayce is like youve literally always been beautiful to me and viktor is like ily but u need to go bc i cant let u die and jayce is like we're all in this together ur not gonna die alone lets hold hands and kiss and also save the world ig but thats not important rn

n theyre both like wow i love him so much i need him in a way that transcends universes and timelines and all mortal life. so they die like that HAHA

meanwhile mel has been watching them on the side as the most beautiful goddess ever created in animation easily topping both of them this whole time without lifting a finger while they claw at each other like angry horny honey badgers

[harlowtales]

Jack is jealous when Y/N goes crazy for another rapper 😡

18 PLUS ONLY - ADULT CONTENT

(Unedited)

“You ready baby? Happy Birthday to my girl. Are you excited?” Jack said holding you from behind and kissing your neck as you checked yourself out in the full length mirror.

“Baby you’re wrinkling me!” You said smoothing out where he had bunched up your dress wrapping his arms around you. “But thank you baby I can’t wait!”

“If I was a bad bitch I’d wanna fuck me too!” You said jumping up and down as if you were already at NLE’s show in the front row. Jack surprised you with tickets and because he knew NLE you were going to meet him. Jack just looked at you and walked away. He was a bit jealous if he was being honest. This was all you talked about since you found out like you weren’t dating an even more famous rapper.

“Hey, calm down and don’t you think you should wear something that covers you more baby? What about this jeans and hoodie? It’s just a concert.” Jack tried to reason to make himself feel better. You looked gorgeous and that was the problem. NLE was as funny and charming as Jack was.

“Um no thanks I like this dress but maybe next time.” You said unknowingly kissing him on the cheek. “Let’s go!!!”

“Can we listen to NLE on the way there?” You begged as Jack didn’t like noise when he was driving.

“We’re going to the show isn’t that over kill?” He said starting to get annoyed.

“We’ll listen to older stuff he might not play tonight. PLLLLLEASE” you said pouting.

“Ok fine.” He relented kissing your forehead. You were adorable when you begged.

“Going down a narrow ro oh oh oad, going down a narrow road oh oh oad!!!” You sang NLE’s earlier hit Narrow Road at the top of your lungs with the roof open. Jack was already regretting buying you these tickets. He had to make you go to Gazebo Fest and you complained the entire time of being too hot, hungry, and tired.

Jack wasn’t much for concerts and when he went he usually sat higher up in box seats but because he knew you wanted front row you got front row. Baby gets what baby wants. This was a smaller venue anyway so Jack didn’t have much of a choice. You let out a squeal when you grabbed the barricade and Jack rolled his eyes taking his guarded boyfriend stance firmly behind you where he planned to be the entire time. He looked around and he felt old. NLE’s crowd was about 16-25 so he grumpily put up with pushing and shoving as the crowd built up.

“Yo!!! Oh shit Jack Harlow is here!” He was hearing around him as cell phones quickly came out of pockets and flashed before he could say anything. He wanted a date night feeling with no security and was beginning to regret it. You on the other hand were chatting away with someone beside you about how funny NLE was and his latest shenanigans on IG.

“Girl that red see through top and red leather pants at Fashion Week??? OMG!! He looked SO GOOD!” She gushed to which you nodded and Jack pretended not to hear. That’s when the lights went down a few opening acts you didn’t care much about came on. Jack was concerned you were bored.

“You ok baby? You’re barely dancing” he observed sweetly as he held you tighter. He was bracing himself for your reaction to the main event.

“Just waiting for my man is all.” You said “Saving my energy.” You didn’t yet know you were going to meet NLE afterwards.

After a brief intermission and endless people coming up to Jack the lights dimmed and you started screaming. “He ain’t even on yet.” Jack said dryly and slightly embarrassed.

Then it got pitch black and smoke filled the stage. Through the mist NLE emerged with his signature look shirtless, tatted from head to toe, low riding black jeans. He directed a megawatt, diamond grilled smile to you and winked. “Jack Harlow done brought his girl to see me y’all!!!” NLE said playfully as he darted to the other end of the stage. Jack smiled back but the joke irked him. You on the other hand were mesmerized.

Then NLE did the Slut Me Out trilogy it was a wrap. By this time Jack was hiding how mad he was. NLE had you. He jumped down from the stage drenched in sweat and as he went by the front row he kissed your hand like a perfect gentleman. You sang along just as loud as in the car then it happened. NLE pulled you up on stage and walked around you like his prey as he rapped “Is we fucking or what?” and made his famous humping gestures in the air. You were escorted back to Jack who just stood there in disbelief.

“Having a good time now?” Jack said angrily

“Baby I…Baby it’s all just fun.” You apologized thinking because Jack and NLE knew each other and both always joked around it was all fine. You tried to kiss him but he dogged it.

“I have a surprise for you that unfortunately we can’t back out of now or I’ll look like a punk.” Jack explained as the crowd thinned out after the show and he led you to the backstage area following security that came to get you.

“Wait what’s happening???” You asked incredulously as you were now standing in the hallway in front of NLE’s dressing room door. Jack just stood there not saying a word.

“Baby I am so sorry if I acted way over the top and made you feel bad.” You said as you titled your head up to kiss him. Jack couldn’t resist and felt your butt as his tongue met yours.

“You owe me after this” Jack said giving your butt a light but stinging tap that served as a warning.

“You’re a lucky man legend” you heard a voice say in a thick Memphis drawl. You turned around and there he was. NLE standing there freshly showered with grey sweatpants on and a towel on his head.

You tried not to appear remotely interested in looking down at the package NLE was toting. Jack’s eyes were on you.

“You must be y/n so honoured to meet the princess of Kentucky” he said holding your hand too long for Jack’s liking.

You shyly replied “Um that’s me” fixing hair behind your ear. All mannerisms that Jack didn’t like.

“Oh fuck now she getting all SHY??” He said seething in his mind.

“Sup.” He said to NLE and dapped him up not showing how agitated his was as he felt NLE poured it on thick during his show.

“I hope you don’t mind me bringing this gorgeous prize on stage. I just wanted to make her birthday unforgettable.” NLE said eyeing you

“Preciate you man.” Jack replied stiffly in complete bro mode.

“Oh boy Jack is acting all hard he is PISSED.” You said to yourself. Him and Jack talked shop for a bit off to the side recounting the XXL freshman class they were both in. Jack seemed to loosen up and was smiling and laughing to which you breathed a sigh of relief.

On the way home he was silent in the car and you didn’t ask to play any music especially NLE’s. You reached over and felt his bulge and he responded immediately shifting in his seat as he stared at the road. “That’s right, you know how to make everything up to me birthday girl.”

“Pull over.” You ordered “Imma take care of you like it’s YOUR birthday.”

@itsyagirljaz @jackharlow502