#i am always drawing this pose i swear

[brutalitybunny]

kagurabachi is one year old im so proud of her

[ryukatters]

don’t go - k. bakugo

a/n: I’m so horny for this man I can’t even think straight. This was supposed to be short and fluffy but now it’s turned into this. I would say sorry but I’m not. (Yes I am alive)

pairing: katsuki bakugo x fem! reader

wc: 1.5k

content/warnings: smut, unprotected morning s*x, begging, overstimulation, bkg is obsessed with you, also completely not proofread

Your boyfriend Katsuki is clingy. Very clingy— in all senses of the word, and you’re convinced that if you open a dictionary right now his name would show up as the very definition of it. Bakugo would live under your skin if he could, or at the very least come up with a way to keep you in his pocket. 

As lovely as your boyfriend is, his innate urge to smother you in affection poses a problem in times like these— early mornings where you have to get up and get ready for work. 

“Katsuki, I need to go to work. Go back to your side of the bed.”

“Just quit,” he murmurs, “I’ll take care of ya.” 

“As appealing as that sounds, no. I need to get up and do my part as a functioning member of society.” Any attempt to leave your shared bed is shut down by Bakugo, his strength easily overpowering yours as he wraps his arms around you and lays on top of you. 

“But you’re my pillow,” he says with a bit of a sigh, pressing his into the crook of your neck, melting further into you. His hot breath tickles your skin, and it’s enough to have your heart pounding along with a familiar warmth in between your legs. Katsuki is observant to a fault, he knows you better than the back of his own hand, and knows just what to do to turn you into putty. 

His hands snake up under your (read: his) shirt, kneading your breasts. You let out a sharp gasp as he tweaks your nipples and sucks a love bite at the junction of your neck. He hums in appreciation as he slowly leaves a trail of wet kisses down your stomach, stopping just as he reaches your underwear. 

He traces your slit, eyes darkening as the fabric begins to dampen with your slick. “So wet for me already, baby.” It’s not a question, it’s a fact that he already knew. Katsuki wastes no time sliding the garment down your legs. He takes a moment to run his hands up and down both your thighs before prying your legs further apart, exposing yourself to him completely. He can feel his mouth water at the sight of you. 

Katsuki can’t help but moan the minute his lips attach themselves to your clit, sucking fervently. “Always taste so good, princess.” 

You take a moment to glance down, which proves to be a mistake. Katsuki’s practically making out with your pussy, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re nothing short of lovesick. His vermillion orbs draw you in, and they’re absolutely magnetizing. You have to close your eyes to stave off your orgasm for a little longer. 

Katsuki can’t help but grind against the edge of the bed to feel some sort of release. He’s so fucking hard. He thinks he’s growing delirious. Katsuki swears he can cum from the taste of your pussy and the sound of your angelic voice filling the room with a sweet symphony. When you let out a particularly breathy call of his name, he has to will himself not to finish in his boxers, which is already usually a difficult enough task on its own, but now it's almost impossible from how impossibly hard he is with morning wood.

You grind against his mouth, hands carding through his hair as your orgasm rapidly approaches. Katsuki is more than eager to be used as a means of getting there. Even as you cum, he continues to fuck your hole with his tongue and lapping up your pussy. It’s only when you begin to push him away does he feel the need to lean back, a loud pop reverberating as he does. 

“You gonna be a good girl and let me take care of ya?”

“Mmm, fuck. Yes, ‘ki.”

“Good girl,” he coos, his lips pressing against yours with fervor. You allow him to deepen the kiss, sucking on his tongue. He moans appreciatively, hips stuttering as he continues to grind against you. The head of his cock bumps against your clit over and over, smearing precum all over your pussy. His tip just barely presses against your fluttering hole, and you can feel your insides ache with anticipation and utter need.

He’s teasing you. You’re overstimulated yet somehow unsatisfied. Your pussy is craving to be stretched out, and Katsuki is making sure he’s doing everything but that. He likes getting you like this— needy, clingy, nearly delirious as you beg for him. He likes to think of it as reparations for how insane you make him feel on the daily. 

You’re not sure how much more you can take. 

“Katsuki, please,” you whine, lifting your hips to grind against his dick, hoping to get what you want, what you need. You look up at Katsuki and for a moment, you think you’ve got him— think that you’d be able to look at him with those doe eyes and get what you want easily, like always. He never could refuse you.

But he merely smirks, and uses one hand to press you back down into the mattress. 

“Tell me what you want, princess. You know I’ll make it good for you.” 

“Want you to fuck me, ‘ki.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whine sweetly. 

“I’ll give you what you want baby,” he affirms, the timbres of his voice reaching the depths of your soul. He uses both hands to press both of your legs by your shoulders, cock lined at your entrance. I always do, don’t I?

You can’t stop the moan that tumbles out of your lips as he fills you up. Katsuki presses a kiss against your forehead, relishing in the way you tighten around his dick. 

The familiar coil that’s been forming in your tummy is threatening to unravel, if your stuttered moans and breaths are any indication. Katsuki seems to know this too, as he pulls out right before you hit your climax. You whine at the sudden lack of overwhelming pressure, and Katsuki’s quick to silence you with a hard stare. 

His breath ghosts against your lips, vermillion eyes burning into yours with intense, unspoken passion. “What’s wrong, princess?”

You shake your head in the negative. “Wanna cum, Katsuki. Please.” 

He starts thrusting again, slowly and with purpose. His eyes never leave yours. It doesn’t take long for you to be on the brink of an orgasm again. “You want to cum, right baby?” He smiles when he sees you nod. “You can cum,” he says carefully, “but only if you do one thing for me.” 

“I’ll do anything Kats,” you manage to choke out. Katsuki continues to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. You really would do anything, Katsuki’s own desire and utter want for you is so persuasive that you feel compelled to follow. 

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, lips pressing a chaste kiss against yours. “Stay with me, today.” There’s an urgency behind his words despite them being said so softly. 

Fuck it. 

You barely manage to let out a stuttered “yes, ‘ki,” before you reach your peak. The pleasure rolls over you in waves, tears threatening to spill as Katsuki continues to drill into you, chasing his own high. A few particularly rough thrusts punctuated by staggered moans let you know that he’s cumming. 

Katsuki manages to plop right next to you, bed shifting under his weight. You lock eyes as you both try to catch your breaths. He gives you a quick smile before pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple, one arm wrapping around you to pull you against him.

“So…” he starts, his eyes brimming with satisfaction, lips upturned into a smirk. He knows he’s won. “Ready for round 2?”

[dizzybizz]

hai here is a sketch dump with too many fandoms :) sorry about the ungodly amount of men here i have been going through it and by it i mean gay

ok wait i ran out of tags??? it wont let me tag them all😭😭😭 im gonna have to be sparing with them uhh i guess i will have to ramble under the cut then cus i like rambling in my tags but i cant with this one 😭

(ok im back from the ramble: it is way too long.... proceed forward if you want to see some guy just absolutely talk nonsense for entirely too long)

no cus i swear i have tried tagging more stuff than this before and never hit the limit but whatever

hello i really use this like a fkn blog huh

i just wanted to provide some thoughts on the harper and rosé one first bc its important to me 😌 cus i was thinking abt harper and how in my head and heart of hearts she would be the kid who thought you get pregnant from kissing and i dont think she ever really grew out of that belief. <- this ended up spawning the idea of harper being a sex-repulsed ace and i will die on this hill actually. fight me or die, you die either way actually nvm

this is just a buncha blorbos i dont know what to tell you really. sketch pages like these always end up so weird for me bc for some reason my brain always wants the characters in them to interact in some way. whether that be talking or just reacting to what the other is doing... its something i cant stop with, its so stupid and silly and i hate it and i love it. where else would i see kabru slowly losing his mind with how loud phoenix wright is in court????

I THOUGHT I HAD GOTTEN OFF THE RAILS WITH THAT BUT THEN THE NEXT PAGE HAPPENED. and all i could do was laugh and ask "what the fuck am i drawing??? HOW DID WE GET HERE? WHY IS THISTLE HERE WITH LEOPIKA HELP" LIKE that page started with the big leopika and then i was like "man i miss thistle lemme draw him real quick" but the curse struck and now hes being homophobic so </3

i rlly like how the nic(k) page turned out ... i just have a lot of nicks i like drawing idk.. the lil guy is an oc,,, one day his ref sheet will be finished and itll be awesome but not for now, sorry baby, no can do. im weirdly happy with how the hands turned out for all of them tho?? so thats a W

yotasuke, murai, nick (youll never know which one im referring to. .. jkjk its hoult i love the pose there ehehhe), nic and the entire last page r my favs. i like em all but those rlly get me yknow- the olly too ofc but ive already posted him, dont mind him being here, hes part of the set. AND OVER ALL IVE BEEN HAVING SO FUN WITH SHADING BLACK AND JUST LEAVING SPOTS BLANK ITS SO ?`????

WHY IS THIS SO LONG PLS DONT READ ALL THIS THIS IS STRAIGHT UP EMBARRASSING AGHSDFGSDHJSGD im all like "yeah i dont like talking about myself or whatever" but as soon as i get to my process or blorbos or smth the floodgates fucking break open, not even burst man.

also dont mind how i havent even acknowledged pingas twink pokemon counterpart. hes just here for shits and giggles i dont know the guy like at all, i watched a handful of eps of horizons and that was it RIP

[thegreatstoryteller]

The Great Shift: Turning 30

The Great shift was a huge time in many people’s lives. Especially those with birthdays who fell around the time of the great shift. Some turning 18, others turning 80! But still others had their hearts set on a time in their life that was quite pivotal. However, because of the shift some may have to wait a little longer to reach that milestone, while others have jumped leaps and bounds beyond it!

Harvey Singh (30 years old)

Fuuuck my head… and my clothes apparently. Damn. This is not what I imagined turning 30 would be like! 

Before the world went insane, I was so close! The damn great shift just had to happen right before my birthday. I was working at this law firm, a pretty shady place at first. Lots of scummy people taking advantage of others, but my boss was trying to turn it around! We kicked out those idiots who were causing trouble, got them arrested! I was gonna get promoted and help lead the charge for helping others… but not anymore.

The great shift landed me inside of Skyler Marlo! 18 year old quarterback for the local university. And right after a big party too. I couldn’t find a stitch of clothes to fit my new larger body. I was really lucky this frat house I woke up in had a towel nearby. But that was just the beginning of my nightmare. 

You see that smile of distress? Yeah that’s me. Instead of writing briefs and taking on clients in need, I’m here on the football field. Apparently after the upheaval the shift caused people are having trouble verifying identities and gaining access to their property/funds. That’s totally something I could be helping with! Instead I'm stuck back in the life of a teenager again. I wasn't a big fan of 18 last time I was in college.

The only thing that could get me after the shift was taking on this guy’s college scholarship. It gives me a place to stay and access to their college library, but I had to join the college football team. Some organizations like college athletics don’t seem to care who is shifted or not! As long as they got the players they need to draw in a crowd, they seemed perfectly content letting anyone play. Though who can blame them. If they saw me before I doubt they’d want some angry short king running their drills. No… now I’m not the 5’0 Indian guy who got overlooked in school. I look the picture of boy next door prom king that rules the college. 6’2, 195lbs of lean muscle, and size 15 feet. That last one took awhile to get used to! Finding cleats that size was the hardest part of this change. 

So here I am, sweating it out day after day to maintain my scholarship, while I wait for the day I’m recertified with my state’s bar! Once I’m a lawyer again I swear I’ll help out others like me forced to cling on to new lives while the system sorts things out. It sucks having to practice every day and do all these drills and grunt work! The college even has me posing for their promotional material to draw in bigger crowds at the game! Who would want this kind of life?!

Then again… it’s already been a few months… I may as well get used to college life… I was a nerdy brown kid my last run in college, mostly studying and doing what my parents wanted… now at least I can get a look at how the athletes lived… That frat did ask me if I wanted to join… I guess it couldn’t hurt to have a little fun while I wait to get my life back.

After all, I do get pretty excited after an intense practice, and judging by some of the looks from my teammates, I may not be the only one eager to get to know my new body better. 

Phil Inver (30 years old)

People need to learn how to relax. I don’t know what the big deal is. So a bunch of people swapped bodies. What’s there to worry about? See me? I don’t have a care in the world. When I was turning 30 doctors told me I was overweight and at risk of diabetes, my work would always be on me for not applying myself, and my girlfriend said I was always too lazy in our relationship! 

But my mindset since the shift hasn’t changed! It landed me in this nice smooth and lean body! I’m glad that this guy kept in such good shape. Having actual abs is insane! Same for these toned arms! I’m not sure if he’s the shaving kinda guy or if he’s naturally smooth, but it sure as hell beats taking care of an unruly beard and body hair!

Turns out now that I look like this people are a bit more receptive to my ideals! Doctors say my heart is as healthy as a horse! Says my stress free lifestyle is a large part of that! My work? They now say my chill attitude makes things a lot more zen around the office. Guess they don’t care I don’t get too much done whenever I flash them a smile. And my girlfriend… or my boyfriend as he goes by now, certainly thinks I’m taking an active role in the bedroom. Who knew that my new stud of a boyfriend had a thing for Asian guys!?

So what am I gonna do now? Listen to music, chill as my boyfriend showers, and wait out the day as normal. Sure I’m turning 30, but it’s just another day in paradise for me! Oh what’s that? This body is only 21? Even better! I’ve got plenty of time to relax before I turn 30.

Devon Lin (30 years old)

So I was a bit nervous about turning 30. I feel like I haven’t really done all the things I wanted… and all my friends were joking saying it’s all downhill after that. I wasn’t dealing the best with the stress… Well like it or not the shift had me face that hurdle a few year further than I expected.

And I gotta say. It’s not as bad as I thought it was gonna be. Sure I’m a bit older, but hell  I look a hell of a lot more manly! Could it be that the shift landed me in a handsome 37 year old with a built body, tan skin,  and perfect beard? Maybe… but hey. Age is just a mindset… but these muscles sure aren’t! Boom!

You like that? So do the guys at the bar! They keep insisting I don’t shave my chest or pit hair too. I think I could pull off that look. That being said, I think anything looks good on a 6’5 stud like me. Tall, dark, and handsome all the way!

Before I would jump around from job to job. Bartender, janitor, waiter, and housekeeper, but lately I’ve found my job as a bouncer at the local bar a lot more rewarding. You’d be surprised how many fights stop once I take my shirt off and start playing pool with the patrons. I’ve won nearly every game of billiards I’ve played! Though I have the sneaking suspicion it may be due to the guys staring more at me than the balls.

Guess that’s one of the benefits to working at a chill gay bar! You know, I was always a bit insecure about my body and experimenting sexually. Being a shorter gay man with a chip on his shoulder would do that to you. Now… well let’s just say now I feel like I’ve got a lot more confidence! I may have missed my 30th birthday, but I think I know how I’m gonna spend my 38th!

Marcus Garcia (30 years old)

They say when you get older you begin to value things differently. Honestly I didn’t know what to expect when I turned 30. Was I supposed to be wiser all of a sudden? Have a plan for things? In truth plenty of people younger than me had their life together compared to me. Partners. Kids. A stable job. A house.

In short. I thought I had more time. But we don’t always get to choose how fast life comes at us. I mean look at me. Didn’t expect the shift to make me 55.

Losing 25 years of my life was definitely not the easiest. The great shift nearly tears the world apart and I’m running for my life looking like retirement is right around the corner. That first day was definitely a wake up call that I did not have the same stamina that I used to. In that opening week of the shift I was pretty much running on adrenaline and coffee wherever I could get it. I took lots of naps just to stay sane. 

As the days went on and society slowly readjusted to some version of normal, I began to actually have time to look at my body. I mean I was a pretty skinny guy before, my sister would always say I needed to workout more. But I guess all it took was 25 years of my life to finally get in shape. 

Not only that, but I’m admiring the body hair. This guy was a pretty hairy dude. The salt and pepper stubble had guys starting me daddy at the gay bars, while the chest hair was still dark like my eyebrows and made my impressive physique pop. 

My feet were pretty big too. Size 14! Twice as big as my old feet, but just as hard to find shoes my size. 

Needless to say there were highs and lows to my new life. Was I happy that i was 6’6 now? Sure! Loved being tall and nearly bonking my head on doorframes. Was I upset lots of my joints were sore and that I could only take my coffee black to avoid dairy and sugar? No… that sucked. I liked my sweet drinks and I missed not waking up in pain.

Omar LeRon was a guy that lived along my street. He was a single dad raising his 5 year old, all at the age of 45.

I later learned he had a few wild days in his early 40s that lead to Omar Jr. And now in his mid 20s again he’s glad he could be more present for his son! Even if his son is the same age as him now.

He told me all of this one day when we both left our house for a jog. He found that doing some running in his new body helped him vent some much needed energy from his body, while I needed to do something physical if I was to have any hope of maintaining healthy workout routines for mine! 

Needles to say he offered some words of wisdom growing up and it really helped put some things in perspective. Meanwhile, I gave him some tips about helping his son. Turns out all those years working at my aunt’s day care counted for something, even for post shifted kids!

Our conversations started as friendly advice and then grew into more! Talks became dates. Dates became moving in. Moving in became an engagement! Now a few years after the wedding I guess you truly can call me a daddy now. Jr. sure does. He’s doing great in school and is looking forward to next week when my sister is gonna watch him for the summer.

My husband and I are gonna take our first real vacation since the great shift! We’re looking forward to it! We’ll be celebrating Omar’s 30th birthday in his new body now! He keeps making jokes saying, “Well I’ve done it before. Nothing to it the second time around.” And “Well here I thought your 30th birthday was extreme. I doubt I could top that”

He also never stops teasing me about how he loves being married to an older man and that I’m not as young as I used to be. We know it’s all in good fun. I mean, I can still keep up with him in the bedroom, where it counts… as long as he gives me a few minutes to recover after. Young guys like him are insatiable. I’ll try to power through though. After all, you only turn “30” once.

[accihoe]

Still The Most Beautiful to me

Pairing: Current!James Hetfield x fem!reader

Summary: Cheering him up when he feels that you're too young and good for him.

Warnings: Two swear words.

A/n: He makes me want to rip all my hair out and scream he's so beautiful.

Also in this story Y/N is a virgin. You can decide on the age gap in your mind, but be conscious that as I write this I am talking about two adults, well over 25. If you'd like to imagine a younger Y/N, that's on you.

Xxxx

She could see it from where she sat across from him in the hotel room's lounge; James's thoughts were getting the better of him.

He sat in the white loveseat, left ankle resting over his right knee, knuckles of his right hand pressed under his chin as said elbow rested on his thigh.

His lips pouted, along with a deep crease between his brows. As sexy as he looked in that pose dressed in all black, Y/N could see the worry etched into his frown, the droop of his shoulders.

Unable to watch a moment longer of her man in despair, Y/N crossed the lounge and went to him, joining him on the loveseat. She rested her hand on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze to draw his attention.

"Hey, you alright?"

She whispered. He exhaled, nodding his head, seemingly dazed. It was as if her presence snapped him out of a trance. Y/N gave James a worried glance, wondering what could be bothering him. Was it to do with the tour? Was it to do with the missing luggage? Were his children alright?

"Jamie, talk to me."

She pleaded, and he rubbed a hand across his face before turning to her with a tired smile.

"I'm alright,"

His voice was hoarse from the little use and the morning's cigar. He moved his hand to rest across hers, sparks igniting within his stomach at the feeling if her skin. Those sparks, however, were drained with the dreadful feeling of guilt. His eyes raked across her face, observing her features, taking them in as if for the last time.

"Hey,"

She brought her hand up to his face, cupping his jaw, a frown now carved into her face as well. James put his free hand over hers, stroking her skin with his thumb. '

"You're so beautiful."

He whispered, barely audible. A smile took over Y/N's face, but it did little to deter the worry.

"James."

She gave his cheek a little pinch, dragging him from the hole his mind was creeping into. His eyes glanced over her again, taking in every detail of her figure. Y/N's pulse started to increase, worried about whatever she could see he was about to say.

"I need to talk to you about something."

His eyes met hers again, and he pulled away, shifting back a bit as if to get a better view of her. Y/N's stomach dropped and her mouth went dry, she leaned her hand on the loveseat, nodding. He inhaled sharply, eyes darting to her left hand that he so yearned to adorn with a band and a ring.

"I-... I don't..."

He sighed once again, hand reaching out to hold hers lightly, she gave his hand a light squeeze.

"Y/N you're so, so beautiful. Inside and out. You're an amazing woman. Smart, kind, caring, funny, fun to be around, and did I mention beautiful?"

He chuckled lightly at his joke, and Y/N squeezed a small smile.

"And me... I'm not what I used to be. Not by a long shot. I'm old, and fading. I know that no matter what age I was, or will be, you'd have been and will always be the most beautiful to me. You'd always have been and always will be the one I adore the most."

Hope started to flicker within her chest as he spoke. Was he going to propose? His next statement, however, shattered her heart.

"But Y/N... I'm ran through. I'm old and dilapidated. You being with me, is the best gift I could've been given, especially at this age. But I can't continue to hold you back anymore. You've got a whole life ahead of you to live, and I don't want to be the old meat weighing you down. You deserve someone young and vibrant, someone closer to your age. I love you, I love you so much. I always will. And shit it's killing me to have to do this... But... I-I think it's time I let you go. Let you live your life."

She knew better than to interrupt him and tell him how utterly wrong he was, she knew that he needed to get what was inside his head off his chest. Toward the end, the last two sentences, his voice dropped to below a whisper, throat straining as he fought back tears. Her silence cracked him inside, and he withdrew his hand, wanting to get up.

"James,"

She eventually breathed, moving on the loveseat to sit right up against him, hands reaching up to cup his face. Delicate and beautiful. She gently turned his face to look at her, eyes searching across his face.

"I love you. And there is nothing you can say or do to change that. I chose you, remember? I was the one who influenced this relationship. If I thought that you'd hold me back, I never would've went to you at the wine tasting in the first place-"

"You may not see it or feel that way, but I know that I am. I'm dragging you down. I'm ripening you before your age, Y/N/N. With me you're going to settle down soon, you'll be a mother even before you've lost your virginity, well step mother, but still a mother. You're closer in age to my kids. So with me, you'll just about be fulfilling grandmother duties. Instead of partying on the weekends you'll be stuck at home, or out hunting with me, or something boring to you-"

"James Alan Hetfield. Shut your mouth. Who ever said that I didn't enjoy 'grandma duties'? And who ever said that I want to be out partying on the weekends? I enjoy the life that we have, James. I enjoy being domesticated. And most of all, I enjoy doing it with you."

"But even if you do enjoy all that it doesn't defeat the object of my physical being. I'm not who or what I used to be. I don't look the same. You're a fresh and beautiful ripe grape, and I'm a raisin-"

"Hey, you listen here to me. You are still the most beautiful man in the whole wide world to me. You are the most beautiful man I have laid my eyes on. You are so much more handsome than you realize, James. You are divine, inside and out. You, James Hetfield, have aged like that expensive wine that prompted us to meet. With every year added to your age you just get more and more attractive and delicious. I promise. Shoot me dead right now if I'm lying. You truly are so, so beautiful."

His eyes had begun to gloss over with tears, relieved by her words, and his hands came up to gently clasp around her wrists.

"And I know that you feeling this way was most likely influenced by the media. But I want you to remember this, James. I am not in a relationship with the media, the press, the public, tabloids, Instagram or anything. I'm in a relationship with you. So I frankly could not care less about their opinions. All I care about is you, James. So if you feel the need to let me go, and it is entirely your own decision, then I will respect that. Otherwise, I'm staying put."

By the end of what she had to say he gave up on holding in the tears, by the end of all that he was sure he could be comfortable around her. A soft smile broke out over Y/N's face and she leaned closer, nudging James' nose with hers. She kissed him gently, and his eyes fluttered shut. For the first time in years, he fully allowed himself to accept and embrace the love given to him. He no longer feared a potential breakup when things don't go as planned, when a hurdle comes to path. He knew that together, they'd jumped over the hurdle together, hand in hand.

She was the first to pull away, stroking his tears away with her thumbs.

"Please come to me when you need me, I promise I'll be there to the best of my abilities. I love you."

She sealed her promise with a kiss between his brows, ironing out the crease. James smiled, brighter than he had in a while and took her hand, kissing her left knuckles. She got up, taking her phone, he frowned in confusion with a tentative smile.

"Sit like you were just now, with your ankle over your knee and your chin on your fist- yes, just like that."

James shifted, sniffing and fixing his hair when he realized what she was doing, and put on his 'handsome thinking expression'. She took a photo before joining him on the loveseat.

"Look at you, model. You're hotter than all of those Victoria's Secret chicks combined."

She grinned, showing him the photo. James took the phone, holding it far enough to see, and a smile spread across his features.

"Send that to me, please."

She put her phone aside, moving to sit on his lap, and draped her arms across his shoulders.

"We're not done with this topic yet, sweetheart."

She'd adapted to using his pet names. His hands moved to lightly rest on the base of her spine.

"I love you. I love everything about you. I want you to always be aware of that. And please don't ever think that you are weighing me down, or keeping me from things. If I want to do something, I will. But I'll have you as my partner. That's the only difference. And obviously I don't expect you to go along with everything, but I expect you to know that not once have you ever held me back from doing something I wanted to do. Alright?"

James nodded, gazing up at her with a gentle smile. Her hands moved to cradle his neck and the back of his head as he pulled her into a tight hug, face tucked into the crook of her neck.

"I love you so damn much."

"I love you too, more than you'll ever know."

xxxx

Fin. If I'm correct I think this is my first publicly posted James fic. Hope it was good :)

[i9messi]

Hi love ❤💃 could you maybe write something with charles leclerc x girlfriend reader, maybe shes a actor and does a movie with harry styles maybe like don't worry darling and charles is jelous because every where are scenes of them kissing and having ,,sex" from the movie

Acting — Charles Leclerc

Word count: 720

a/n: fluff

charles' masterlist

"Charles, baby, are you alright?"

You and your boyfriend had just arrived from the premiere of your new movie. Charles had been there to hold your trembling hands, to remind you that you were doing great, and also to bring you calm in all that commotion. It was your first starring role, a very important moment for your acting career and you didn’t want to ruin it.

Everything had gone very well, you had posed for the cameras and then in the cinema room you had sat next to your other co-workers and of course, next to your boyfriend. The film was applauded and you were happy with the result of your performance. It was a film that you had put a lot of time and effort into, and now that the movie had come out, you were proud of your work.

However, your boyfriend has been acting a little weird since he finished watching the movie. At first, he kept smiling, but once you finished watching the film, Charles had driven home quietly. Something was wrong, you could tell by the way his brow was furrowed and he didn’t say anything. Now that you were in the comfort of your home, your boyfriend went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.

You took off the heels that hurt your feet and waited for his answer. Charles finally spoke.

"Did you have to kiss so much?"

"Excuse me?"

"You and that guy. In every scene you were practically doing it, well, in a lot of scenes you were doing it."

You finally understood what was happening to him. Some scenes had been quite intimate between you and your co-star, that was true, but everything was fake and for the sake of the movie.

"It’s called acting. It wasn’t real, Charles."

"It seemed quite real to me."

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

Your boyfriend was a bad liar. You looked at him for a moment, his face showing how much he had bothered to see you kiss another man. He was serious, just like when during a bad race. It was a face you knew a lot, because whenever things went wrong, he would come to your side to find comfort.

"No way.... You’re actually jealous."

"Maybe I am a little bit jealous. But who wouldn’t be? You were kissing him!"

"Nothing was real, is just my job, Charles. It’s a movie, I’ve acted before and I can swear I never developed any feelings for my other teammates."

Even the scenes of sexual intercourse had been completely taken care of, you and your co-star had shared nothing but fake kisses. Charles remained upset about what had happened and you had the amazing idea to start laughing. It was funny because he didn’t have a real reason to be jealous, you couldn't care less about the other actor, not at least in the way he was concerned about.

"What are you laughing at? I don’t see anything funny..."

"You’re cute."

You narrowed the distance between you and him and decided to kiss your boyfriend. Charles seemed a little calmer once your lips came together, maybe all the questions and doubts disappeared once he knew you were there with him. The kiss you shared was true, his lips made you tremble and feel something in your heart. However, the kisses in the film had no meaning, you had felt nothing. You were in love with him.

"I love you, Charles. I choose you, I always choose you. It was just a movie and I was just acting, you don’t have to be jealous of anyone because I’m yours."

Charles finally opened his eyes and looked at you through his eyelashes.

"You’re mine?"

"Yes, I’m yours."

"Good."

This time, he kissed you. His lips joined in a warm kiss and his hands approached your face and your hair, in a desperate grip to draw you even closer to him. His hands then went down to your waist, leaving soft caresses on your skin, above your dress. You took your time to be able to breathe again, Charles had a unique way of making you feel loved.

"Sorry for everything. I just didn't like that too much, alright?"

"It's fine, love."

"I love you."

"And I love you."

"Kiss me again."

"But- mmph"

[only-lonely-star]

Fic request:

Twobits little sister gets mad at their mom and runs away from home and ends up getting lost and terrorized by some Soc kids after she wanders into their side of town. Darry is over there roofing when he spots her wandering all upset and scratched up amd immediately goes into protective mode? I feel Darry is good with kids and I just want to see that more please 🙏

❤️ stay gold

୨୧ ☁︎ Too Young ☁︎ ୨୧

~ Darrel Curtis, Two-Bit’s kid sister (PLATONIC) ~

This is NOT an ‘x Reader’ story.

Warnings - I feel like classifying this as angst is a better description, so there are obviously a few warnings. Mentions of drinking, running away from home, minor pain inflicted on a small child, manhandling, harassment.

Summary - Karol Matthews has had enough, her plan to run away from home not going as expected. Luckily for her, a brotherly figure comes to her aid.

Author’s Note - This one is a bit of a longer fic compared to the other ones I have posted, so sorry for the long wait! Other requests may take a few days since I am a bit behind. Besides that, I thank you so much for this request! I could totally see Darry becoming protective when it comes to defending someone so special to him. I hope you enjoy it, Stay Gold! 💞

Word Count - 2.6k.

࿐ •°. *࿐ •°. *࿐ •°. *࿐ •°. *࿐ •°. *࿐

(Quick A/N: I try to keep things as accurate as possible to both the book and movie combined. For appearances I go based on the movie since it's easier for me to imagine. BUT it is canon that Two-Bit has a little sister although she is unnamed. I felt like this story would run much smoother if it was in a complete third-person perspective, making this not an 'x reader' story.)

Karol Matthews sat perched atop the armrest of the sofa, her wide eyes filled with curiosity following Keith's every move. He paced around the kitchen, absolutely raiding it and chugging down a cold beer before taking a seat beside his kid sister.

Keith couldn't sit still for the life of him, always buzzing around or out and about with his friends. His leg bounced up and down, sipping on his drink. It was obvious to Karol he was about to venture off and get into some trouble - but their mother didn't mind much. She practically supported his troubling antics from time to time.

Karol tapped on his shoulder, preparing her tiny voice to engage in conversation with him. Keith was zoned out, his consciousness coming back to reality at the gentle tap. He turned his head to face hers, a small grin evident on his face. "What's up?" he posed, the soft tone in his voice typical for her to hear.

"Where are you going?" Karol asked, her voice soft and quiet. She adored Keith and found him to be the funniest person she knew. Even at six years old, the girl had a slight understanding of what exactly her brother would be getting involved in. Late-night drives, smoking and drinking with his buddies, maybe even going out to see a girl. She was aware of the different blonde girls he would bring home, him swearing it was the same person each time - Kathy. She wasn't stupid, she knew they were all different.

"Going out with Dally and some others," he replied simply, expecting a soft sigh and for her to head back to her bedroom. Instead, she smiled and tapped his shoulder again.

"Can I come?" Karol's sweet voice spoke up, her enticing smile attempting to draw him in.

"No," Keith said, taking his free hand to ruffle through her blonde wavy hair affectionately. He found it rather amusing that she wanted to tag along. He chuckled and took another large sip of his beer as Karol pouted and let out a huff.

"Why not?!" she protested, demanding a real answer from him. Karol loved Keith and would rather spend her day out and about with him instead of being stuck at home. She crossed her arms and glared at her brother.

"You're too young," he replied, standing from the sofa swiftly, "Besides, Dally ain't too good with kids."

Karol's irritation only grew from there, souring her mood for the day. She tugged on Keith's arm like a lifeline - pleading to come along. "Please...? I'll be quiet!"

He shook his head firmly, stepping for the door without another word on the matter. He took a deep breath, "Heading out! Be back around seven!"

A woman's voice could be heard shouting back in response, stepping for the door before Keith could leave. "Six!"

She enveloped him in a side hug and kissed his cheek, staining it with a dark hue of pink lipstick. He grinned softly, smearing it off and turning the doorknob. "Six-thirty. Bye, ma,"

She let out a sigh, watching her son dart for his car - beer in hand and all. She turned to Karol with a lopsided smile. "What are we going to do with him? Hm?"

Karol sat back down on the sofa, a frown still intact. "I wanna go," she stated with crossed arms.

Her mother glanced down at her with a slight frown. "You shouldn't be hanging around those boys, you're way too young, honey."

Karol didn't like that. In fact - she hated being referred to as 'too little' or 'too young'. In all reality it was true; she was six years old and nowhere near old enough to befriend a group of teen hoodlums...even if they were her brother's best friends.

"I don't wanna be young! I wanna play with the big kids and be cool," she fumed, eyebrows sewn together and tiny fists clenched.

"Karol... you don't understand. Little girls shouldn't try any of the things they do," her mother shook her head, attempting to calm her down. It was obvious how badly this was affecting Karol's mood, sending the child into an upset rage.

"I'm not a little girl!" she shouted, hopping off the couch and reaching for the doorknob at a moment's notice. "And I'm running away from this place! I'll go find Keith on my own!"

Her mother only rolled her eyes. Karol had done this countless times - attempting to run off and merely making it down the street before she came crawling back. "You'll be back," she muttered under her breath as she watched her daughter pry open the door and step outside into the blazing summer heat.

Karol's dark expression meant business. She didn't intend on coming back this time, she was determined to prove herself as a big kid. With heavy stomps, Karol made her way down the sidewalk, thinking of where her brother could possibly be. He'd taken the car and everything, not even mentioning where he was heading off to. She turned her head around to notice the door had already been shut - stranding her outside for good.

"I'll show her,"

Karol continued on with her journey, wandering down streets she'd never been to before. Every house she passed seemed to appear bigger and bigger. The one-story shacks turned into two-story houses with beautifully painted fences surrounding them. She stared at a few in awe, wondering how she could manage to buy one of her own and prove she was all grown up.

All was well until a few snickers could be heard off into the distance. Karol turned her head and squinted to have a better look at the trio of teenage boys coming her way. Her mind instantly thought those could be Keith's friends. Maybe if she asked them where he could be then she could hitch a ride with them. Her tiny legs strode to stand in front of the boys, a charming smile on her face.

The first to speak up, a tall brunette with khakis and a white button-down, kneeled to her level. A sly grin arose on his lips, his voice coming out overly sweet. "Well... are you lost, kid?"

It was quite obvious Karol wasn't from the area. Her tattered sandals and colorful- yet floral sundress gave it away. No Soc child would wear something so bright and bold. The little girls were typically dressed head to toe in fancy skirts, headbands, and bows. Karol was a misfit.

"I'm looking for my brother," she beamed with a sweet tone in return, oblivious to the evil intent in his tone. The other boys circled around her as they stifled their snickers.

"Who's your brother?" the Soc asked with a raised brow at Karol's revelation. He looked to the other two, motioning for them to stand close by.

"Keith," Karol spoke excitedly, expecting them to immediately welcome her with open arms, "He said he was with Dally. Can you take me wherever that is?"

All three of the boys's ears perked up at the name. 'Dally' was an easy name to remember - recognizing the infamous greaser left quite a small crowd to narrow down from.

"I ain't ever heard of a 'Keith' who hangs 'round Dally," the slim and blonde-haired Soc spoke up, exchanging glances between the others.

The third boy shook his head, furrowing his brows as he tried to recall the person he had in mind. He ran a hand through his jet-black curls. "No, she means Two-Bit. That guy with the funny sideburns."

The brunette Soc who had originally spoken to Karol let out a soft snort. "Two-Bit..." he nodded along, testing out the name on his tongue. "He wear a Mickey Mouse shirt, kid?"

Karol's smile only grew, nodding to confirm that was indeed her big brother. "Yes! That's him!" Her arms pumped up in victory, a gleam of hope in her eyes.

The sight was precious, they didn't even have to push her for answers - she willingly gave them away. The boy chuckled dryly, standing to his feet with a smug smile. "Well since Two-Bit thinks it's funny to swipe cash that ain't his..."

The other boys had a similar look of cruel intent written all over their faces. The blonde boy stood behind her, a singular arm snaking around her small torso to lift her up. Karol yelped in confusion, not expecting such a move.

"Hey!" she hollered to them, her voice almost a whimper. She was roughly tossed in a soaking wet puddle of mud, hidden beneath the grass on a stranger's front lawn. "My dress..." she pouted, tears welling to her eyes.

The boys didn't hesitate to terrorize the poor girl further. They jabbed their hands into the muddy puddle, one holding her down as the other two slathered the mud all over her. She let out a wail, one that anybody in their right mind couldn't brush off.

"Tell your brother to not touch what ain't his next time," the Soc in the white button-down cackled, his hand running down the side of her cheek.

Just as Karol felt she couldn't take any more of the torment - pounding footsteps could be heard coming closer. Her screams and cries for help had paid off, and none other than Darrel Curtis had come to her aid. He grabbed the collar of the brunette's shirt from behind, scaring the other two off. They ran without hesitation, sprinting up the street the same way they came. The boy managed to slip out of Darrel's grasp, speeding off before he really had his world rocked.

Karol still sat in the puddle, wailing and hollering like she never had before. She truly felt those boys would help her find Keith. Darrel cursed under his breath until they were completely out of sight. He quickly turned his focus back to Karol.

Gently helping her up, he placed both hands under her arms to stand her back on her own two feet. He sighed and assessed the situation, looking over her body and face for any signs she was hurt. "You alright?"

Karol used the back of her hand to wipe away the overwhelming amount of tears that flooded her eyes. She nodded and tried to calm herself enough to speak. Darrel was no stranger to her, they had met numerous times before since Two-Bit was close friends with him.

"Darry~" she whimpered, clinging onto his leg as she went in for a hug. She cried softly against him and didn't show any intention of stopping.

Darrel was a bit taken aback, but he rested a hand on her shoulder nonetheless, patting it gently to bring her a bit of comfort. She was muddy all over and was soaking Darrel in the mess but he didn't mind it one bit. The poor child had to have been hurt from the way she had been screaming. "Karol, look at me."

She reluctantly tilted her head upwards to meet his eyes, her pout seemingly stuck on her face. His heart sank at the sight of the girl's dirtied clothing along with a few minor scratches along her face and arms. "What happened? Tell me everything."

He subtly maneuvered her arms off so that he could begin to walk her to his car. He held his hand out to her, opening and closing a fist to motion for her. Her small hand wrapped around his pinky finger, melting his heart further. He listened intently to her soft cries.

"I was looking for Keith...I ran away," Karol explained with a deepening frown, her mind racing with thoughts of him and how she could only hope he was safe out there.

"You ran away?" he echoed, his words almost full of disbelief, "Why would you do that, kiddo?" Darrel guided her to the backseat of his car, the last thing on his mind being the muddy mess she would leave behind. He followed her inside the car, grabbing a hand towel which was stuffed into the back pocket of his denim. He gently dabbed at her cheeks, mentally reminding himself to be gentle around the scratches.

Karol sighed deeply and glanced down to her lap shamefully. She winced every now and then, the burning sensation on her skin still lingered. "I don't wanna be a little girl anymore, Darry... I want to be like Keith. To be cool."

Darry's expression turned from one of shock to one of empathy. He could already imagine how left out Karol must feel. Her brother always out of the house and getting into all sorts of trouble with his friends, her mother housekeeping constantly and working hard to make ends meet. The Matthews' home could often leave Karol feeling lonely and unwanted.

"And you wandered all the way here... on foot?" he implied, the question sounding surreal to even ask a six-year old.

Karol nodded and watched as Darrel tried his best to finish wiping off the dried up mud from her arms. He was unable to do much about her dress - but what he could do was give her a ride home. He finished tidying her up, setting the towel on the floor beside her feet. He smiled at her warmly, his thumb gently running over her cheek. “Lemme take you home, get you all freshened up with your momma.”

Darrel had a tendency to be good with children, Karol being no different. His instinctive protective nature came in handy in situations like this. He would do so much as to drop everything in terms of his job to tend to Karol’s desperate cries for help.

The car ride home was mostly quiet, the soft music playing as Karol settled herself into the backseat, her head resting against the car door. Darrel pulled up, the car coming to a halt as Keith and their mother swarmed the vehicle in a panic. They were both worried sick - her mother expecting her to return moments after ‘running away’.

Darrel immediately emerged from the car, opening the backseat door and revealing the child to them. Two-Bit was first to sling her into his arms, a powerful hug between the two. He didn’t mind the crumpled clumps of dirt that fell from her body. “Karol - we were so worried about you…” he began, his voice almost a quiver.

Darrel smiled softly, admiring the sight of a little family reunion between the three. He stuffed his hands in his pocket and observed. She was set back down, stepping closer to Darrel in an instant. He crouched down in response and held out his arms for her. Karol obliged and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, his hands rubbing her back soothingly. “Karol, look at me,” he whispered quietly, only for her ears to hear only.

She leaned in, the expression on her face displaying curiosity. Her undivided attention was on Darrel. “You are the toughest, bravest - coolest gal I know,” his tone was nothing but tender and loving with her. He was already aware of how she felt being babied and portrayed as nothing more than a little girl. He chose his words carefully, “And don’t you ever forget that, you hear? You’re just as cool as your brother… maybe even cooler.”

The wink he added onto those last words sealed Karol’s belief in. She felt a strange sense of newfound confidence within herself. Darrel had done more than just protect her today, more than scaring the boys off before they could harm her more, more than rushing to help assess the damage….

Darrel left her feeling important. She felt noticed for once, her strength revealing itself since the terror inflicted on her today. Karol tightly hugged him, her grasp not loosening a single bit as she prolonged the hug to its fullest.

Her soft voice whispered back, a smile plastering all over her face - the first one in a while, “Thank you, Darry.”

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: The Maritime Finale

This is definitely the last one of these, as it's rounding up a bunch of sea creatures I've missed. I assume by this point everyone who sees this knows what it's about, but just in case: https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting. (I'll get the rest of the entries on there soon.)

The entry people are working from is here:

The one for next week does not exist. (Also I apologize if I seem rushed, this is a busy week for me.)

Art below the cut!

@pomrania (link to post here) has us off on a weird start with their interpretation of the Fatrihrukh. I don't have any particular nostalgia for rage-face comics (I was online during that era, just not in circles where they were common), but honestly this made me smile. Also I like imagining some fisherman on a dock, still sitting in a normal pose and holding his fishing rod, just full-throat screaming at the sky, apparently apropos of nothing in particular. This is a fun one, is what I'm saying.

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) has an uncanny ability to make me think, "sure, that looks like an animal that could be real" even when they're drawing something like Fish With Tentacles, which I am 99% sure is not a thing. Though if fish did have tentacles, they would look like that. This is of course also the Fatrihrukh; apparently people like that one.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) has done the whole set. A lot of these turned out really well -- I think the Ormlalaehr is stealing the show here, but the Bursgaenga is pretty darn cute. The linked post has details on each of them, which I recommend checking out. (Also thank you for providing alt text.)

@wendievergreen (link to post here) continues to impress with their delightful art style. Love the little space-invader Magtlegyegs, and the Lungyoggeas are just... wild. Extremely cool looking. (Also, thank you for providing alt text.)

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) joins the broad consensus that if you're only drawing one of these, it's the Fatrihrukh. I love the (medieval-art-appropriate) choice to give it human-like parts since the entry doesn't say otherwise. The colors are also really pretty; I like the effect on the background.

Okay. Aberdeen Bestiary. No illustrations for this one -- this whole section is just blocks of text.

Ahrmegyaeb

The wording is ambiguous as to whether whales and dolphins also do this -- but the creature in question is the seal. I have no idea how this works; either baby seals are way smaller than I think or I have completely the wrong idea about how seal mouths look.

Bursgaenga

This one is of course the scarus or escarius, which does not exist. Bestiary.ca notes that Scarus is a genus of parrotfish in modern taxonomy, and that the Rackham translation of Pliny the Elder has decided they are wrasse. No idea how well that reflects medieval understanding.

Chraekhret

Another one that doesn't exist, the echenais. Apparently Pliny has heard of some magical applications in love-charms, litigation, and obstetrics. The fish that anchors ships is a good addition to a fantasy setting, I think.

Dhrakyetor

Naturally the fish that looks like a serpent is the eel. More spontaneous generation, too, which is always nice. I swear I've heard that "giant eels in the Ganges" line somewhere before, but can't place it.

Eavbechtgi

Here we have the lamprey. I kind of wonder if this "head vs. tail" thing has something to do with its unusual head shape?

Fatrihrukh

Honestly I probably should have redacted the "many-footed" thing, because the name given is polippus, which... yeah, that actually tracks. I thought maybe this was the result of someone not bothering to actually count the limbs on an octopus, but it's apparently an obsolete umbrella term for octopus, squid, cuttlefish... all manner of tentacled cephalopod.

Griggkhraz

This is the torpedo, which is some fun etymology. The modern usage of torpedo is inherited from non-self-propelled naval mines, which were named after this torpedo, an electric ray. (Presumably they named mines after it because it hides itself & zaps you if you accidentally step on it.) The rays were named for their effect on people whom they zap: torpidus, 'numb'. This is of course cognate with English torpid. Which is a strange word to be cognate with the thing you shoot at boats.

Also:

...if a torpedo from the Indian sea is touched by a spear or rod, even from a considerable distance, the muscles of the fisherman's arms, even if they are very strong, grow numb...

Would that work if it were a metal rod?

Hretchngin

This is the crab. I did not know all of that about crabs, especially the basil thing.

Khaboghrad

Meet the sea urchin. That's why it specifies "the maritime kind" -- the other kind of urchin is a hedgehog. I don't know why the author calls it "worthless and contemptible", especially since they go on to say it can do this really cool thing. Just seems unnecessarily mean.

Lungyoggea

This one is just shellfish. All of them, apparently. The words given are conca and concle -- Latin concha covers shellfish in general.

Magtlegyeg

Naturally the pearl-bearing shellfish is the oyster, but I love the imagery of oysters going ashore to be fertilized by dew from heaven. The idea of going out at night to watch the oysters migrate onto land and catch the dew is another thing I'm taking note of for a fantasy setting.

Nolthrigyo

Someone probably clocked this one: it's the murex snail, source of the famous "tyrian purple" dye.

Ormlalaehr

Really pushing the definition of "fish" here is... the tortoise. Technically also the turtle, I guess, since the author specifies that this includes land and sea varieties. This is, I think, one that makes total sense once you know what it is, so we're moving on to our last one, which is also really pushing the "what is a fish" envelope...

Riggmungku

This is the frog, also obvious once you see it. The fact that it's being called a fish really throws you off, though, I think.

And that's the whole lot. This has been fun, but I'm also glad to have it completed. (Well, completed with the exception of any responses to this one I've missed or that came in late.) Thanks to everyone who's been looking in on this project -- thanks doubly to everyone who contributed -- and thanks triply to the handful of people who drew something practically every week.

[aemondsbeloved]

You’re Not Like The Regulars [Part 2]

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x reader

summary: on the night his father’s health fails him, Aegon prepares the leave with the woman from the street of silk he has fallen in love with. as he leaves the Red Keep he runs into the last person he wants to see and he will not be soon to see them again. He can almost forget him as the years passed and a life with children was made with you, until someone arrives on your doorstep ten years later (5.3k)

warnings/notes: no major warnings, king!Aemond, greens win au where aegon gets on that ship, read part one here!

That night when he went to the castle to bring precious belongings and some finery he could trade for coin for his new life, Aegon had seen Aemond.

“It is unlike you to be in the castle this late brother,” Aemond said casually from the wall he leaned against as he lurked in the darkness.

Aegon was frozen in the moment, the bag heavy with belongings he would sell. Turning around he looked at his younger brother wearily.

“Going somewhere?” Aemond asked, eyes looking to the bag then back to Aegon.

The silence was thick but Aegon had enough sense to know he could not outrun Aemond should he choose to keep him here.

“Nothing to say?” Aemond asked, amused. “That is a first.”

The truth seemed the right thing for once. Aemond knew it already.

“I am leaving on a ship to Essos.”

Aemond appraised him in silence. “Why would you do that?”

“Father will be dead soon,” Aegon told him bluntly. “Any day now I’d say. Do you really think I want to be King? Do you think I should be King?”

His brother hummed, an answer in itself. “You never did care about your duty.”

Aegon briefly thought of his love who was packing to leave and wondered if his brother would stop him. He wondered what he might say to convince him to let him go.

“You know I would be a terrible king,” he sought his brother’s eye that connected with his. The brothers who had more contempt for each other as the years had passed considered each other in silence. “But you would not.”

Aegon did not know much and had been doubted by his family for his entire life for reasons that he had caused. But he knew what Aemond wanted, what Aegon had been given but never wished for.

“You know it should be you who will get our father’s throne. So take it.”

Aegon knew that Aemond was considering it but when had Aemond ever taken something easily?

“Why do you want to leave?” Aemond posed a different question than he had before.

For another time that night, the truth seemed to be the only solution.

“There’s a woman that I love,” he admitted. “I desire her beyond lust. She is meant to be mine and already has my heart. I am going to leave with her, Aemond.”

“You fell in love with a woman from the street of silk?”

Only his brother would not say the word whore. Aegon nodded.

“I have never known you to lay with a woman so dearly.”

Aemond’s words were menacing. “It is not like that,” Aegon told him tersely. Suddenly he sounded like Aemond and he hated it. So dignified, so stiff, everything he had never been. “She has made a man out of me and does not even realize it.”

And he wasn’t talking about the fact that they had laid together so many times. Aemond did not know sometimes he would just lay in bed with her as she stroked his hair, tangled limbs without seeking pleasure. Her company had always been grounding and enough for him.

“Let me leave Aemond and you will see the back of me, never to be found again. I swear it.”

The younger considered the elder, biting the inside of his cheek with thought. “Come with me,” he said, not waiting before turning on his heel and going to his chambers.

Aegon followed him without thinking about it.

He felt awkward in Aemond's rooms that were just as grand as his were, though undoubtedly cleaner. Books neatly stacked on a shelf and a sword hanging besides his bed. Typical, Aegon thought.

This could be a king’s room.

Aemond was purposeful as he went to one of his draws taking out some objects. Some jewels, fine silvers and golds, before striding over to Aegon.

He tugged the bag from Aegon’s hands, opening it and without saying a word, looked into it. Humming, he sounded pleased as he unceremoniously dumped the finery in his hands into the bag before closing it again.

“That will be enough for a modest home and to start a new life in the free cities, brother.”

Aegon stared at his brother. He had expected to fight him, tear at him even if it meant he would lose whatever battle would occur between them, but never had he expected generosity.

“Leave through the hidden passage, I trust you are well acquainted with it,” Aemond instructed. “Many of the guards are outside father’s rooms on the other side of the castle after his poor health tonight. You should leave soon, dawn will be here in a few hours.”

Aegon nodded. He had the urge to do something for his brother he never had before.

“Thank you, brother.”

It was not the first time he should have thanked him. Better late than never, he supposed.

A nod from Aemond was the only acknowledgement. He would take it.

Turning to leave he moved to look at his younger brother and tilted his head down, out of respect. It was akin to a bow to a king.

“Be a better king than I would have been, Aemond. Be better than our father.”

One last look between brothers was all they had before Aegon left. For the first time he found himself missing his brother.

That late night he had found himself at the docks of King’s Landing with you in common clothes to not draw suspicion. His hair had been shaved and no one could see his Targaryen hair thank the Gods. He was glad to be rid of it.

When you got to Essos he could grow it back. No one would care about a Targaryen in Essos as he knew another was there already. He was thankful for your hand in his the entire voyage. It was the one thing that grounded him.

He thought of the small home you could fill with children, the wedding in front of a Septon pledging yourself to each other, the endless possibilities of happiness.

“Are you frightened?” you asked him on the ship. With his shaved head and common clothes, he blended into everyone else on this ship. Your hands were holding his arms as you stood on the deck, watching Westeros disappear into the night.

The land finally disappeared from his view and all left of his old life, his family and duty disappeared too. “No,” he told you in a whisper. He looks at you for the first time in what feels like nights but might have been only some minutes. Again, he thinks of the future, the humble home, the freedom, the family he wanted. “I want to make you my wife on this ship,” he says without thinking.

You smile. “With who for our witness, my love?” you tease, though you want it too. “And where is the Septon to hold the cloth over our arms while we make our solemn vowels?”

He faces you now, turning away from the sea. “We have no need for a Septon, only one another,” he says and even now he looks desperate. You wonder if it will ever leave him, the desperation to know what he wants will never leave him. But then he is ripping off a piece of his cloak, holding his arm and waiting for you to do the same. You do.

He begins to wrap your joined hands in the woolen cloth. You look up at him and somehow understand what he will say.

Father

Smith.

Warrior.

Mother.

Maiden.

Crone.

Stranger.

The cloth is around your arms and as a light shower, a drizzle really, falls down on your cheeks, but when he leans down and kisses you, the feeling of raindrops kissing your skin do not faze you. The droplets fall past his hair that has been cut so short it seems to skid right past what is left of his silver hair.

None around you on the deck seem to notice the solemn vows you had just made. Any that do glance would only see a young man and woman embracing and foolishly being outside in the rain when they ought to be asleep. “Let us rest,” you whisper to him, tugging his hand to go with you under the deck where your meager bunk is.

The piece of cloth falls from your hands. Aegon puts it in his pocket, refusing to let it disappear from his possession.

                                                         * * * * * *

The home you found was a modest one. Small enough to be humble but with enough rooms for the children he had spoken of with you. After the first night spent in a modest inn, Aegon had left you only to return with an iron key. In your hands, he pressed the key of the home you would live in while you sat on the bed. Sitting on his knees before you, he whispered, “Marry me.” Not a question, not a demand, but you smiled before agreeing anyways, taking his head in your hands for a kiss.

“We said our vowels already,” you remind him after a kiss.

“The Gods know you are mine,” he tells you, “but I want men to recognize this too.”

You can hardly protest.

Everything compared to the Red Keep and luxury he grew up in appeared humble, but everything compared to the filth of Flea Bottom was something to be marveled at to your eyes. Both your pair of eyes who had seen to much, cruelty in both squander and luxury, made you see Volantis for what it might give you.

Soon, Volantis would recognize you as man and wife. You were commoners now and there was no grand ceremony, only an room and coins in the hand of a priestess.

Somehow, many things fell into your lap easily and Aegon had met the right people at pubs, falling into friendships with merchants and owners of bars. Being a wine merchant suited him while you redirected your efforts to lesser children. With a golden band on your finger that matched his and a stomach not yet growing with a child, life had gone on easily enough for you both. Aegon had his wine merchant business where he distributed fine wines between bar owners and wine makers. Before long he was climbing up the Essossi hierarchy, but even as his social standing grew in Volantis this was nothing the dynasty he had been born into. Then again with the wealth he brought in from being a merchant of the finest wines, he supposed he had a kingdom of his own.

Before long you were not only helping orphanages and running some of them, but had children of your own. Your modest home grew and Aegon had never realized that the home would fill up so quickly and with so many children in it, two daughters and a son. It was a home full of fine things and love, something neither of you had truly had before.

Your children did not have Targaryen names, because that would be too dangerous even in the safety of the Free Cities. Alia had been first and there had not been a babe that every cried so loudly and was as fierce. Daria had been after, coming before her twin brother Dario. They were all alike in coloring having your hair so different than Aegon’s silver tresses.

His has remained cut short, not just for the safety of not looking quite like a Targaryen but for the hot and dry weather Volantis boasted. Selfishly you were pleased they had his eyes. Purple eyes were not so strange in Volantis and they could not endanger themselves.

For many years yet they would not know that they could be dragonriders, but you and Aegon decided to protect them. In Westeros they would be bastards, nothing more than the children a Targaryen Prince had whelped off of a girl who worked in the Street of Silk. But in Volantis they had a mother and father who loved them and that was all. Dragons were the last thing on their minds.

Some days Aegon still lingered in the past as much as he would not want to ever return there. But many years ago when your Daria and Dario were babes in the cradle, the news had come: the war in Westeros had ended. Prince Daemon had died by Prince Aemond’s hand, Rhaenyra left imprisoned and eventually died in her cell. With Rhaenyra’s eldest sons dead and Aegon presumed dead, Aemond had been crowned in the Sept. Her younger sons were being raised in the Red Keep and King Aemond had made Aegon the younger his heir until he had children of his own, if the rumors were true. Prince Viserys would be his cupbearer. You would be lying if you rarely listened to these rumors, but it was only for Aegon’s sake as you knew he more eagerly listened for anything of his family.

Many years after your journey to Volantis, ten exactly, your routine and family had been set in stone. The balcony in your home at the back of the property was well used by Aegon who would sometimes look at the city and sea with a strange sense of melancholy.

“Do you miss him?” you asked him from where you both stood on the balcony overlooking the busy streets of Volantis and the water down below.

His fingers gripped yours as your hand came to rest at his side. Aegon brought your intertwined fingers to rest on his chest. “On occasion,” he admits with a trace of amusement. “He has been a good king, I have heard. Fair and strong, the words I hear, strange. Kinslayer he is called and fair in the same breath. And I will never see him again. I am uncertain if I would want to.”

“He knows you did your best,” you had whispered to him, a soft smile in his direction. “Now he has done his best as we all must.”

Still, Aegon looked across the city and the water, never looking at you and gripping your fingers all the same. “Come to bed, my love,” you urge. He complies, following you to your bedroom, his hand never leaving yours.

For the past years the news came in trickles: the war and the result of Aemond on the throne, Aemond’s marriage to a Baratheon lady, Rhaenyra’s youngest sons brought into the Red Keep not as prisoners but as the King’s heir and cupbearer, Dorne being brought into the seven kingdoms (though reasons are unknown), the children by Aemond’s lady wife, and many minor things that mean little to anyone who was not the elder brother of a king.

Aegon would have a slight melancholic expression on days where such news spread throughout the town, but your daughters and son never noted such news. All that mattered to them was what went on in the school they learned at, what they and their friends loved best at the moment, the newest treat Aegon had a habit of picking up from bakeries during the week, and so on. Theirs was a simple, joyful existence and Westeros was a world away.

Until today, it seemed. Aegon had gotten back from work of the day, but he had been tired as of late. A new shipment and another contract with an owner of several fine restaurants had him rising early this week and retiring late. So as the sun begun to set he had retreated somewhere within your home, perhaps attending to the twins while Alia was by your side as you prepared dinner.

You were cutting vegetables as she placed ingredients on the table, standing on her step stool, when a careful knock was heard against the door. “Cut these, why don’t you, my darling?” you ask her, smiling down and giving her braided hair an affection rub. She is eagerly cutting the carrots when you go to the door.

Evening visitors were not uncommon. On occasion, friends of Aegon through his business had come and over time your home been known to always have a plate for any friend of the family. Aegon’s oldest, most boisterous friend from Volantis rarely knocked and yet you could never begrudge him too much.

This is no friend on the other side of the door, you realize, but two strangers. An older man in a dark brown cape and hat with the darkest eyes and a tanned complexion is at the front, while another in a darker cape has his head bowed down, so you cannot see him at all. Feeling troubled, you look back inside and are relieved to see Alia still happily cutting carrots. “Gentlemen,” you address them wearily. “Is there something I can do for you?”

You expect the first man to answer you right away but he turns his head to the tall man behind him who nods. It is only then he addresses you. “This is a delicate matter, lady,” he says hesitantly, thinking over his next words. “Might we come inside? We are looking for someone.”

You stiffen. No one calls you lady, first of all, and you were not set upon letting strange men into your home unless you knew them. “I think not,” you tell him stiffly, holding the edge of the door. “Volantis is a large place, gentlemen. I doubt I would be any help.”

Your words hold a finality that has the first man glancing at the other again worriedly, opening his mouth to refute this. But you can hardly refuse as hands are tugging your skirts from besides you.

Alia has peeked out from behind the door. Oblivious to the tension, she smiles up at you. “Mama, I cut up the carrots. Are we going to cook? Should I get papa?”

Trying not to grimace at her intrusion, you lean down to whisper urgently, “Go to your father now.”

She crunched up her face. “But you said I could cook with you!” she protests, not letting you answer before she notices the two men. “Who are they? Are they eating with us?”

“No,” you begin to say firmly but like her father, you are no match for her persuasion.

“Why not?” she looks up at you before glancing at them. To you, she poorly conceals a whisper, “What wines have they bought? Father says the people he sells to dress finely, not like that.”  

“Your father,” you remind her, brows raised as you fight to not looked peeved. “Go to him if you want to cook.”

Huffing, she turns away dramatically and stomps away to where Aegon will be, oblivious to everything you are in the midst of trying to discover. In your focus of Alia you had not noticed the tall man look up at last and were caught off guard yet again when you saw the eyepatch and what’s more, the peaking of silver hair from his hood.

As the air changes around you, the expression the first man wears changes too. The man with the eyepatch does not look at you, staring at the space where your daughter once was. He seems to be putting together a puzzle as he finally looks at you.

“Who are you?” you ask him directly, but he does not move a muscle. You hum in distaste before looking at the man with the tanned complexion. With a hand on your hip, you regard him coolly. “If he tells me his name, I will let you both into my home. If he says the name I’m thinking of then you could both have dinner at my table.”

“Lady, we came not to answer riddles,” the man says with a terse tone, but is not unkind. He moves to say something else, but the man with the eyepatch speaks first.

“I am Aemond,” he says so softly, you might not have heard it if he was not he you thought.

“Our children know nothing of their father’s birthright and their parent’s pasts,” you tell him quietly. “Best to keep it that way. Come in, I will begin making dinner. He will be on the balcony.”

Both men were silent as they walked in, the first one nodding in thanks and the one you know to be Prince Aemond, or rather King Aemond, followed behind silently.

Aemond walked in slowly as he took in your quarters. It was an organized clutter, warm and inviting, all proof of a loving family that resides here. He seemed curious more than anything else as he looked around at the cups of paint that had been living on the end of the long wooden table besides the kitchen. Aegon had gifted those to Daria for her sixth name day four moons ago and she had not stopped using them at the table since.

“I will stay with the lady while you go to him,” the other man said kindly, but with sterness, almost that of a father.

Aemond said nothing but hummed, perhaps in affirmation as he took off his hood, carefully placing the cape across a chair. He moved through the room quickly, walking out of your line of sight where Aegon would be on the balcony, most likely with Alia.

“Need not call me lady, ser,” you assumed his title with your gentle manner of speaking whilst cutting the meat into pieces for the stew. “Such niceties belong in Westeros.”

“You know I am a knight?” he asks, turning to you.

“Who else would accompany a King?” you simply ask him, placing the meat in a bowl above the stove. Reaching for the seasonings to be added to the stove, you turn from him. “I lived in King’s Landing all my life, albeit a different part of the world as Aegon. Knights are common things, Kingsguard fewer.”

He says nothing but his posture begins to relax. “Ser Criston Cole, my lady,” he says at last.

“Not a lady,” you remind him, a rueful smile peaking at your lips. Sprinkling the seasons in, followed by the addition of vegetables, you let your stew simmer. “Why have you traveled with the King to Volantis?”

The second question you gaze asks is what are you going to do to us?

You had heard tales of King Aemond, the brother of your husband before you left Westeros. Dutiful, envious Aemond, Aegon likened him as he often spoke of his distaste of his brother and how it was reciprocated well. Overtime, especially once you were in Essos the insults seemed to stop. Despite the brutality you had heard of over the war you both lef tbehind, this same Aemond had let him disappear, depositing many riches in his bag before letting Aegon leave. This Aemond had also killed their uncle to secure the throne against the elder half-sister that he had imprisoned. It was difficult to hate him.

Still, how does someone trust a person like this? You daughters and son were his nieces and nephew, but maybe he wanted to make sure his elder brother’s whore and offspring could not challenge him. It was an ugly question to ask yourself and here you are, thinking it all the same.

“The Dowager Queen Alicent has been despondent as of late,” he admits with reluctance, perhaps being sworn to secrecy.

“Her health fails her?” you immediately ask him, setting down the kitchen tools you had been washing. For all the trouble Alicent had given Aegon, you knew he loved his mother and had felt leaving her was the last time he would fail her.

“Not quite,” he says, “but the truth of what has happened has recently reached her ears. His Grace had confided in me ten years ago, swearing me to secrecy for no one to know Aegon’s fate, but he recently told her.”

You squint your eyes in confusion. “She implored her son to ensure Aegon is well,” he tells you. “Aegon was her first born and has aggrieved her most of his life, but a mother’s love is rarely rational. Aemond knew only that his brother came to Volantis with a woman he planned to wed. It was difficult to track him down until we traveled to some finer establishments.”

“Nicer pubs, you mean?” you snigger at that, leaning on the counter across from him. “You mean to tell me that he will not harm our children?”

“Never,” he said, looking offended almost.

“We disappeared for a reason,” you responded, shrugging. “The children cannot know who he is, who his brother is. They are too young. Alia loves to talk. I cannot risk her telling other children of her uncle who is a King.”

“I understand,” he says and as he does, Aegon comes into the room followed by his brother.

You would be as weary as Aegon’s eyes seemed to be if not for the way Alia trailed after him, curiously peering up at the tall man. Lacking all decorum, she opened her mouth, soon to ask another question. You doubt she had stopped since she saw him for the second time on the balcony.

“Why do you have an eyepatch?” she squinted at him. “Do you not like your eyecolor? Neither do I,” she huffed at that before beginning to tell him about how her one eye was lovely, the perfect shade fo the palest lilac, but the other was greyish green, which she hated. “I would cover up mine too if I could.”

“Alia, enough,” Aegon said, though affectionately, as he place a hand on her head.

“What?” she protested, looking up at her father. “I would! Green is a stupid color, I have half a murky lake in one eye while Dario and Dario have lovely eyes. The Gods are cruel to me alone.”

“She is often dramatic like this I am afraid,” Aegon says, smiling at her.

“She gets it from her father,” you muse, urging Alia to come to you. “Come, let us cook. Your father has much to talk about without you getting every word in.”

Huffing at your words, Alia follows you nonetheless. As she stirs the pot happily, you can barely hear the words being shared.

“She sounds ill to me,” Aegon says, looking at Aemond with strangely narrowed eyes. “How long as she been so melancholic?”

“Do not pretend you are the one who has been dealing with matters of the family instead of fleeing,” Aemond replies and though Ser Coles opens his mouth to buffer this, the two men are too quick.

“If you came all this way to tell me how I failed the family speak not,” Aegon hisses at him. “There was nothing for me there.”

“Your family was not enough?” Aemond replies, though it is obvious this is not how the conversation had been meant to go.

“Do not act as though I had ever been help to our family. It is you who kept mother and Helaena together these years.”

Aemond cannot disagree with Aegon this once. “She worries for you,” he admits after a long while. “I promised her I would go with Cole to see you, so she might be content knowing you are fine, or perhaps dead in a ditch.”

Aegon coughs a laugh. “Neither are true,” he tells Aemond. “I am neither dead in a ditch or fine. I have a family. Tell mother she has additional grandchildren, a girl of eight and twins, a boy and a girl of five. Tell her that her eldest sons affinity for wine has served him well.”

“I will not,” Aemond says snidely, though a small laugh that is but a huff of breath escapes him. You do not know him but you know this is a rare thing. The air seems to relax as you glance at them. “I will tell her you have made your place as a prosperous merchant, nothing more. The mention of honeyed wine might have her on bedrest for a week, I fear.”

Aegon laughs this time and it is louder, easier than when it came from Aemond. “I would not dream of it,” he smiles with ease. After a long moment of pause he asks, “Helaena?”

He does not need ot say more as Aemond tips his head down slightly, smiling so faintly you barely noticed it. “Married to the Prince Qoren of Dorne,” he finally tells Aegon. At last, he leans back in the chair they had been sat near. “Princess Arianne of Dorne is quite fond of her good sister. Helaena’s presence made the negotiations of peace easier before talk of marriage alliances even began. Dearest Helaena intrigued the Princess and before long Qoren Martell was besotted. They too have twins, a boy and a girl.”

You never understood what people meant when they said how the weight of one’s shoulders could be lifted but you had seen it as you left Westeros behind, entered your home for the first time, and when Aegon had held Alia for the first time. Still, it has never been more powerful than when Aemond told Aegon of his sister’s happiness.

“Good,” he says, the word sounding like he was short for breath. “That is good news,” he adds on, his breath sounding sparse. Without catching his eye you smile and turn back to Alia who merrily stirs the stew.

She peers up at you, smiling eagerly as you whisper assurances and praises of her cooking. “Who is that?” she asks again, this time truly whispering as she glances at the three men.

“Old friends of your father’s,” you say easily, the lie too natural. She nods after a moment, knowing there is more but not asking.

One day you can tell her without the flurry of questions that will follow about her father’s younger brother and the knight sworn to protect them as boys and men. One day you can tell her about the dragons they rode as boys, the home her father had grown up in full of exceeding opulence that did not fill a hole in his heart. You can tell her about how her father fell into the arms of a woman and found more than she was meant to give him, but took it anyway. You could tell her about how he fell in love with someone he shouldn’t have but fled from him family and duties for her; For you.

There is a lesson in there for her ears to hear once she was older. A lesson about love, sacrifice, how happiness is not so simple and easy to achieve.

A lesson about how two brothers you loathed each other as boys still loved another in a strange way. About how one left so the other could have what he was not meant to bear. How the younger went across the sea to make sure his brother was well. These lessons were there, but you would not tell her. Not yet, anyway.

Trying not to easedrop, you watch as Alia finishes the meal and before long you are pouring it into the bowls. A fine wine, one of the ones for special occasions is brought out and the four adults drink it as your children drink water. Daria sits at the table with her brother and sister, but like her elder sister she cannot stop from looking to the man who is her uncle. She shows him the paintings she has made after the meal, laying them across the table. Aemond smiles, compliments her in a softer tone. Daria does not know he is her uncle or that he is a King. He is simply an old friend of her father’s, one that is kind and somber and listens to her and her brother babble away.

In the midst of it all your eyes meet Aegon’s and you smile too, because it is not easy, nothing is. But his brother is here and the melancholy has left Aegon for a moment. Your children do not know what this means to him and even if the brother’s cannot say it to one another, you know that this visit was not for their mother, but for Aemond himself. 

                                                       * * * * * *

note: any feedback and reblogs are appreciated for this writer!!! also, might have to add another part to this at some point who knows

[mushiewrites]

(I'm about to kill you here Mushie) I just realized, no one has ever written about this position. Let's use snf as an example (for Sap's thunder thighs)

Sapnap chilling on the couch until George decides to be annoying and sits between his legs on the floor, constantly jostling his comfortable position, talking through the whole movie, tugging his leg hair. Sapnap eventually just leans forward and snatches George’s tiny wrists, pulls them out so he's T posing in a way and sets his legs over his biceps. When he releases George’s wrists, the weight of his legs pressing his keeps his arms pinned out, he can't even reach past his thighs with his bent elbows. Sapnap just takes out his annoyance slowly and methodically, working all of George’s tickle spots in just the way he knows how, to drive George crazy, even worse for him is he's so close to grabbing him but he can only brush his fingers against his wrists

first off. i am so so sooooo sorry im so late on this (i know you dont care but IM SORRY ANYWAY)

second. i adore the trope of a lee almost being able to stop the ler, but stopping just short of it. it's so incredibly cruel for absolutely no reason. its perfect

….anyway, lets get into it

we all know how much of a little shit george is - he's a natural brat, he just cant help it! its not his fault he was born like this! but regardless, there are people who take it better than others. dream and sapnap being the perfect example. i mean, dont get me wrong; dream absolutely gets annoyed by george, but hes just so fond of him that he normally just lets it slide

but sapnap? absolutely not.

the day he learns how ticklish george is is the best day of sapnap's life. he uses it for everything; to get george to give in to whatever sapnap wants, to cheer george up when hes grumpy, to punish george when hes annoying. and boy is george annoying

so its no surprise (even though it always is to george somehow) when sapnap suddenly growls out a quiet "that's it" from between his clenched teeth before grabbing george's wrists, pulling them quickly out to the sides against the couch cushions behind him. sapnap throws his thighs quickly over george's arms, successfully trapping his arms and his body in place from where hes sat between sapnap's legs on the floor

george is immediately pleading, never having been in this vulnerable of a position before and finding it incredibly flustering. sapnap can tell, and he plays it up. he pokes his pointer fingers under each of george's arms once, making him yelp and try to yank his arms down. but sapnap's weight keeps him practically immobile from his waist up, trapped between and under the strong thighs of his friend

sapnap would coo at him, reaching a hand up to ruffle his hair as george let's his head fall back into sapnap's lap to look up to him. his boba eyes are glassy and wide, clearly full of nerves and excitement at the compromising position hes found himself in. sapnap would laugh, loving how much of a mess george was already before slowly drawing circles in the middle of his underarms, sending him into hysterics

he digs into each and every rib, making sure to take his time to really dig between them. he makes sure that george feels every single tiny spark of ticklish energy as intensely as he can, and george swears fireworks are exploding under his skin. his eyes are wet, and whenever george flings his head back to laugh sapnap can see the trails of wetness down his cheeks from the tears. sapnap flutters his fingers over george's stomach, making sure to press gently at the lower tummy a couple of times to make george buck his hips up into the air....it's much easier for sapnap to latch onto them this way :D

eventually sapnap makes his way back up under george's arms, and it's then he remembers just how sensitive his triceps are. so he drags his nails there experimentally. just a tiny scratch on the soft skin of george's right tricep. the reaction is insane. george screams like someone is killing him before breaking out into the most ridiculous high pitched cackles sapnap has ever heard. his cheeks are bright red and he’s pleading every chance he can.

unfortunately, it goes without being acknowledged

sapnap switches to lightly dragging his fingers over both triceps, and george enters a whole different level of hysteria. george is frantic, bending his arms as much as he can. his fingers are outstretched and lightly brushing against sapnap's knuckles, but never reaching far enough to grab them to stop the tickling. it's a never ending loop of torture, and being so close to successfully putting an end to it makes everything ten times worse. sapnap uses both hands on one of george's triceps and his laugh goes silent, signaling to sapnap that it's time to stop

of course sapnap slides down onto the floor with george, cuddling into him and hugging him tight. george continues giggling deliriously, still feeling an overflow of ghost tickles all throughout his body. he whines and complains to sapnap that it's not fair, that he hates him, but george stays glued to sapnap's side the rest of the night, just absolutely floaty and giggly and completely satisfied

[heylosers06]

Hey!! Just so you know I love love love your art and that it's my daily source of protein <3 I'd love to have it injected in my veins andjwkxjwk

Anyway, do you have any tips to get consistent at drawing? Where does your inspiration usually come from?

AHHHHH THANK YOU SM this is genuinely so sweet thank you thank you!!!

So for tips on how to stay consistent for me I will be honest and say that it’s quite hard not to get bored. I normally turn on the tv and watch a good show while I am drawing and that’s for keeping me in the zone. A lot of the time I give myself hours of break time to let myself to enjoy other things and just let myself refresh.

A lot of the time I scour Pinterest. It’s literally my number one place to look for poses and art references I use. I even look at other fan art for inspiration and create my own style inspired by different artists art style or the way they design certain characters.

Or I will get bursts of inspiration for different characters just from my own imagination. I like to call them aus in my head because I can make a character I like into an OC of sorts and I just play around. The thought process is simply “oh what would they look like as…” or “oh it would be cool if-” hit in order to map out my ideas I do always go back to Pinterest to help with the composition and the visualization of the ideas.

For the actual art I have since I was in 5th grade tried to try new art styles and I had a problem with “mimicking” art styles which I’m glad I got over in order to find my own personal art style. It can be hard to stay consistent especially when you’re new to art because for me it’s the urge to do better and practice.

This may sound like a repetitive statement but it’s true. I practice so much. Like my entire art history is just so much practice. It doesn’t have to be all day everyday but if you spend your time studying the anatomy of art or the lighting, shading, composition, etc your art will get better and more consistent I promise. I look at old art and I see how bad it is and two years from now I hope I also improve.

This was probably more than what was asked but I actually finding the will to do it and practicing makes it easier and better. It also helps of you’re drawing something you’re hyper fixating on! It makes me more engaged and I see all these characters and I’m like I GOTTA DRAW THEM NOW!!!

I hope this helps! And I hope I actually answered your question correctly 😭 putting on a fun show/movie you like helps me so much I swear idk why but it does!

[shewassaying]

💛💫 1000 DOWNLOAD CELEBRATION 💫💛

Thank you for 1K downloads!! To celebrate, we've put together a little surprise. This will be the first installment of 3-- we hope you enjoy!

✨️✨️✨️✨️

Art by @minthe-drawings

Upper Hand

By Cath, editing by @crescencestudio

You lay sprawled out across the bed, comfy in your pajamas as episodes of your current guilty pleasure played. It was a crappy reality TV show. Meaning it was bad, trashy, very un-reality for a reality show– everything anyone could ever want in a guilty pleasure. But as you rewatched the show, things just weren't quite hitting the same. 

Maybe because the newest episodes were released last night. 

You'd promised Theo you wouldn't watch ahead without them. Since they had a meeting at some ungodly early hour today, they'd gone to bed early last night. Which meant you hadn't been able to watch it yet. 

They had even made you swear upon the life of your freshly drafted manuscript that you wouldn't watch until they got home. 

Twice. 

But… how would they know? You could just clear the watch history and act surprised, right? Maybe just for one episode… 

You queue up the first new episode. The theme song plays in your room, only to be interrupted by the sound of the door unlocking. 

"Shit shit shit...!"

You scramble for the remote, somehow losing and finding it in the blankets a half dozen times before you manage to smash the power button. As the TV shuts off, you resume some kind of casual pose on the bed. 

Wait... This makes no sense. Why would you be sitting on the bed in silence? You should have–-

The door swings open. You're out of time. 

"M'love?" 

You roll over from your mock-lounge position to greet them, and your words die on your tongue. 

Theo is… in a suit. 

You'd been sound asleep when they left this morning, and hadn't seen them get ready. You didn't even know they owned a suit!

They blink a few times at you, adjusting the sleeve of their shirt before sliding the jacket off, apparently entirely unaware of the car wreck they just caused in your brain. 

"... Are you okay?" They ask slowly, movements slowing to an uncertain halt. Their jacket hangs from two fingertips, about to be discarded on the armchair near the bedroom door. 

"F-fine! Hi!" Your voice is too loud. What in the hell is this doing to you? You've been together far too long to be so easily undone by a simple outfit change, but… but.. 

You clear your voice roughly, trying your damnedest to act natural. Why is your throat so dry??

"Hi," Theo echoes. A small smile curves their lips, and they let the jacket fall to the chair. Their eyebrow arches, and you know you've been caught. 

Dammit.

"You're making a face." 

"..."

Their smile grows. 

You try to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks and glare at him. 

"I am not making a face." 

"Right... And I use box cake mix." They take a few steps forward, closing the distance between you. Their legs press against the bed, and they look down at you with a nearly smug expression. "You're blushing." 

The sound that escapes you is something between mortified and outraged. You always have the upper hand when it comes to Theo. That's one of your favorite things about them. How easy it is to fluster them. The way their cheeks flush when you tease them. The way they stutter when you praise them.

But that damn suit has thrown you for a loop...! 

You gnaw your bottom lip and avert your eyes, scanning the room for some way to get them back for this. For making you so–

Fingers find your chin and firmly but gently redirect your gaze. Their gaze is affectionate. 

And heated. 

It sends a thrill through you, and for a moment, you can only stare up at them. At the curve of their lip as they smirk at you. 

Fuck it.

You rise up on your knees, unsteady on the mattress. Their hand leaves your face, and their expression morphs to surprise as you grip them by the collar of that crisply pressed shirt.  You pull them to you. 

Their hands find your waist—as if by reflex—but their eyes only widen, looking increasingly stunned, as you press your body against theirs. You bring your mouth a hair's breadth away from those slightly parted lips. This close, you can smell the bakery off him—sweet vanilla and warm cinnamon.

Their face goes scarlet. The smile you give them is undeniably wolfish. And appropriately so. You could absolutely devour them. 

"Now you're blushing." You whisper. Your voice is husky but steady. Just like that, you've gotten the advantage once more, and it's delicious. 

You pull him down over you, and they offer absolutely nothing in resistance, catching themselves on their elbows. Their eyes never leave yours, and you get lost in the overwhelming blue of their gaze. 

"S-So… good suit?" 

"Very." 

You tug their collar again, and suddenly, you're pressed between plush blankets and Theo's firm body. There's a surprising amount of strength in their lean form. Your bodies slide together, puzzle pieces. Made to fit against each other. A slow, controlled release of air passes their lips–the exact reaction you were looking for.

Their mouth drops towards yours. They wrap an arm around you once more, to pull you ever closer, like the two of you can never be close enough. Their touch is tender, but there's an edge—a fervor—to the way their fingertips dig into your sides. You relish moments like this, when you can coax them past their usual gentleness, and into the kind of desire that overrides their instinct to treat you delicately. 

You wrap your arms around their neck, blood racing with anticipation–

There's a sound. Music…?

It almost sounds like...

Your eyes widen. The TV is on. Showing the exact episode you had sworn on your newborn manuscript not to watch—

Theo's eyes snap wide, and they whip their face towards the television. You scramble in the blankets, trying to find the remote, but their arm locks around you and holds you in place. You're scrambling fruitlessly as they pin you. Their gaze turns back to you in horror. 

"You were going to watch… without me??!"

"I– I–" You sputter, trapped and entirely uncertain of how to proceed. How did the TV...? Then it dawns on you. Your weight must have shifted just right, pressing the remote still tangled in the blankets. You swear under your breath. You know that means you have to face the consequences. 

"W-Wait, Theo...!"

An impish grin spreads across their face, and they sit back on their heels so they're kneeling over you. For less than a heartbeat, fear shoots through you. It's entirely irrational, of course, but you can't deny the relief that floods you when they grab hold of one ankle and begin to tickle your socked feet. 

You laugh and thrash and struggle, attempting to crawl away only to be tugged backward into a breathy, giggling kiss. You don't even notice the echoes of fear leaving you, can't even remember the feeling existed at all as you submit to your partner's kisses. A consequence you would gladly bear.  

Hope you enjoyed!

If you'd like to check out Titan Arum, find it here:

[guppygiggles]

Rules for drawing my characters 💙

Hi! Since people have been drawing my guys more frequently, I thought I'd lay down some boundaries.

First let me say, if you like my characters enough to draw them, I'm honored. I have loved every piece of fanart I have received so far. 💙

Aside: Coming up with poses is difficult and time-consuming work. For me, it is the most difficult part of making art. There is nothing wrong with using references, but if you want to use poses from someone else to draw my characters, you need to make sure it's okay with them, and you need to credit them if they let you.

1. If you're a minor, you shouldn't be interacting with me at all. This is posted all over my blog. Don't follow me, don't draw my characters.

2. Do not draw them nude or doing sex acts. Shirtless/swimsuits/in underwear/skimpy outfits are all okay, just keep in mind that Casper always wears a binder.

3. Do not draw Avery swearing.

4. Do not draw them using substances, including (especially) drinking or drunk. I'm open to hypno stuff, but please ask first.

5. No violence or "scary" stuff. My characters are soft and sensitive and so am I. No guns, knives, blood, gore, or anything like that. Restraints are fair game as long as they aren't painful. Blindfolds are okay. No gags.

6. I'm open to different body types, gender-presentation and even species for both of my characters, but if you want to do this, please ask me first... especially if the one you are changing is Casper.

7. Don't "ship" Avery or Casper with anyone other than each other. All tickling is fair game and they are both very physically affectionate to their friends, just please don't draw them making out or in "suggestive" situations with other people. If you're not sure, ask.

That's it! Thanks for reading this! 💙

[hxneyfarm]

I am always always thinking about different scenarios where Eddie could have gotten mixed up in The Mess (tm), and I just think that season 2 would have been great for that tw: reference to kidnapping and child murder

Hawkins has always been a weird fuckin’ place, even before the Byers kid went missing last year. Eddie’s never really been able to put his finger on what it is, but he sees it on the periphery of everything Hawkins touches. It’s not something you can see if you look at it head on, like a migraine aura or one of those floaty things you get in your eyes sometimes.

A couple of days after Halloween, though, Eddie plummets headfirst into the weird that makes the town of Hawkins churn.

He’s skipping school, because O’Donnell has it out for him, swear to god, and he’s flying up a back road on the outskirts of town when the weird comes striding out of the woods to his right. 

It’s a fucking kid, and he’s driving too fucking fast to be able to stop in time but he slams hard on the brakes of his van anyway. The back fishtails and the brakes screech and the air smells like burning rubber, but he comes to a halt, and he didn’t feel the sickening thump-thump that he’s been bracing for. His heart is in his fucking throat, his head pounding, hands sweating, and he is trembling from head to toe.

Eddie launches himself out of the driver’s seat. The kid - the girl, middle school aged, curly hair that falls just to her ears, flannel and jeans - is standing there with her hand out toward the van. She’s posed like a comic book superhero, feet planted, shoulders back, and… her nose is bleeding. The van’s grille is dented like… Eddie can’t even bring himself to think about it. It’s like she stopped the fuckin’ thing with her mind ro some shit.

He definitely needs to cool it on the weed.

Eddie scrambles for something to say, but all he can come up with is a choked out, “Holy shit, kid.”

And that’s how he ends up with ‘Jane’ in the passenger seat of his van. That’s not her real name. Eddie’s not sure how he knows it but he knows it. She says she’s going to see her mother, and Eddie’s not good with silence so he tries to ask her questions, make conversation. She does what she can, but her grasp of language isn’t… great, and Eddie finds himself trying to fill in the blanks and coming up short.

He thinks she must be a runaway who's finally grown tired of not being home. She’s clean, though, and she looks fed, but she looks like she doesn’t sleep all that much, and Eddie wonders what it was about her home life that made her run in the first place. And the further and further they get outside of Hawkins, the more he wonders how she ended up in his little town anyway.

“Hey, kid, uh,” Eddie begins, unsure how to even say what he’s thinking. “You’re not, like, a kidnapping victim or anything, are you? You didn’t escape from, like…” At the word escape, Jane draws in an anxious breath. 

Eddie hears about it in the news sometimes, about kids that are snatched and murdered and the awful, awful things people do to them. He remembers Adam Walsh in eighty one.

“Kid, are you safe?”

“I am safe,” says the girl, but she doesn’t seem so sure.

When they pull up in front of the little house, the last name Ives painted in swooping curls on the mailbox, Eddie puts the van in park and shuts it off.

“I should probably, uh, talk to an adult,” he says. “This is very weird, Jane, and I just want to make sure, uh…”

He doesn’t know what he wants to make sure. Make sure he’s not dropping this kid off into a death trap? Make sure there’s an actual human person behind the door of this house, and that that person isn’t some weirdo who wants to hurt the kid he almost ran over with his van? If she’s just a runaway, though, pulling up at home alongside an eighteen year old boy with long hair that smells like weed will just get the cops called on him.

“No,” Jane says when Eddie unbuckles his seatbelt. “It is okay. You do not have to come with me. Thank you for the ride.”

It might be the most she’s said at one time, the whole way over here. The urgency in her voice just makes Eddie even more anxious to leave her. 

“I really, really should. There’s some sketchy people out there, okay? I just need to make sure this is someplace safe for you.”

Why the fuck does he even care? She’s just some weird kid that he almost hit with his van on the outskirts of his very weird town. He might as well just drop her here and go, get the hell out of dodge and away from whatever brand of weird he’s just stumbled his way into.

But if he sees this kid’s face on the news in two days, Eddie will never fucking forgive himself.

“Wait here, then,” Jane says. “And once I go inside, you can go. This is a safe place. My mother is inside. Please.”

“Fine. Fine. Go ahead, then.”

She goes. She’s walking slow up to the house, like she’s nervous too, and it makes Eddie all the more uneasy about letting her walk away.

She knocks (at her own house?) and then there’s a woman behind the door. There’s no recognition in the woman’s expression, and she closes the door in Jane’s face again. And just as Eddie is about to get out of the van and go up there, Jane puts her arm out toward the door, just like she’d done with his van, and the door swings inward.

What. The fuck. 

He must be hallucinating. Right? The woman who answered the door before must have just opened it back up again. Right? Because that’s not possible. Magic isn’t real. This is real life. …Right?

Eddie sits there, trying to make sense of what he’s just seen, but he convinces himself he must have just been seeing things wrong. It must have been someone inside the house opening the door for Jane.

And if that's not the case? If this kid has magic fucking powers, if she can stop Eddie's van and open up the front door of a house she is clearly not welcome in, why shouldn't he want to fucking hightail it in the other direction? He's no hero. This isn't a Hellfire campaign. Maybe Jane isn't the one that's in danger, here. Maybe Jane is the dangerous one.

Eddie goes, but after about five minutes his paranoia and worry for this little kid gets the better of him, and he turns around.

He’s just gonna drive past, just circle the block to see if everything looks okay. One more time won’t hurt. Maybe he got a fucked up bag of weed, making him more paranoid than usual, but Hawkins is a weird goddamn place, and this doesn’t seem like your usual run of the mill kind of weird. It feels a little dark, a little sinister. 

That girl had a bloody nose when Eddie got out of his van. The grille did not look like that this morning when he left the trailer. (Did it?) The way she talks, the body language, the way she really stood there and faced down Eddie’s van with her hand out like she knew she would be able to stop it. It’s weird. And if nothing else, now Eddie’s a little bit fucking curious, okay? 

So he circles the block where the Ives house sits, and as he drives past, the fucking lights in the front room are flickering.

So he sits. And he waits. And it’s dark outside by the time the front door swings open again and fucking Jane comes striding out clutching a wad of cash in her fist. What the fuck. She spots Eddie and glares at him, but then she wrenches open the passenger side door and gets in.

“Drive,” she says, and Eddie does. “We’re going to Chicago.”

[canirove]

The Princess & the Football Player | Chapter 5

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"He was wearing what?"

"Just a towel."

"And you didn't faint?" 

"I was so shocked by what I was seeing in front of me, that I didn't have time to think about anything else."

"Oh my God" Roberta laughs over facetime. "And then he went to apologize?"

"He did. And he called me by my name, and I swear it has never sounded better. Eleanor" I sigh.

"Girl..."

"I know, I know. And you know what makes it even worse? That his girlfriend, ex girlfriend or whatever, was at the stadium too."

"She was?"

"Yep. She was wearing a shirt with no number or name on it, but she was sitting with the other wags."

"Then maybe she's there only as a friend."

"Maybe... I don't know" I say, letting myself fall on the bed. "When did you say you were coming?"

"In a couple of days for the last game of this round. You'll thirst for Declan, and I'll thirst for Rashford. Deal?"

"Deal" I laugh. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"Ok, is everyone wearing their clothes?" Kane asks before completely opening the changing room's door. 

"One minute!" someone shouts.

"Who was that?"

"Jack."

"Oh dear" I say.

"Not a big fan, uh?" Kane chuckles.

"He just isn't my cup of tea. But please don't tell him. The other day he said I'm his favourite royal."

"I won't, don't worry."

"Ready!" Jack shouts again.

"We sure?" Kane asks, looking inside the room. "Ok. After you, ma'am."

"Thank you" I smile.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"Nice to see you again, your Royal Highness."

"You too, Declan Rice. And wearing clothes this time."

"Disappointed?" he asks with a cheeky smile.

"A bit, not gonna like” I sigh. Oh my God, why did I say that?

"I like the number on your shirt” he says as he moves a bit closer, his finger hovering over my shirt as he draws the number.

"Because it is yours?" I ask, trying to sound cool and condifent despite feeling my heart beating way too fast.

"Maybe" he shrugs, still smiling. "Do you also have the red shirt? We are wearing that one for our next game."

"I don't look good in red."

"You look good in every colour, Ele... I mean, ma'am. I'm sorry. My mum always calls you by your name and I'm used to it" he says, the cheeky smile now turning into a shy one. I honestly don’t know wich one I like the most. Both? Both.

"It's ok, don't worry" I smile back. “And thank you.”

“What for?”

“For saying I look good in every colour. I don’t think it is true, but...”

“But it is true” he shrugs.

"Ok everyone, get ready for the photo" Kane announces.

"Would you mind if I posed next to you? My mum would love it."

"It'll be my pleasure."

"Great" he says with a big smile that is added to my collection of Declan Rice smiles that make me swoon.

Once everyone is ready, I'm posing with Grealish to one side and him to the other. Grealish has his hands in front of him, but Declan doesn't. One I suppose is on Kane's back since he is to his other side. The other... The other is on my back. On my low back to be precise.

If anyone else touched me like that, they would definitely get a murderous look from me and some words from David. But that's not Declan's case. Mainly because I think I've forgotten how my body works. I'm only able to feel his touch even through the fabric of my shirt, and it isn't until the photographer asks for some smiles, that I remember where I am and what I am supposed to be doing. 

"Ok, we got it. Thank you, everyone" he says.

"My mum is definitely framing this and putting it next to the other one" Declan chuckles.

"She has our other photo framed?"

"She does. She sent me a photo of the shelves where she put it, it's like you are part of the family" he laughs. “I can show you, I just need to go grab my phone.”

"Ma'am, we have to leave" David says behind us.

"Maybe... Maybe you can send it to me? I'll send you a dm on Instagram from my personal account."

"Oh, ok. Great. I didn't know you had one.”

"That's because it is a secret" I smirk.

"My lips are sealed, then" he says, moving his fingers over his mouth and making me look at it. At his lips. At how kissable they look.

"Ma'am..." David insists.

"Yes, sorry. Keep an eye on your dms, ok? And good luck for the next game.”

"Thank you, Ele... ma’am."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"You must be careful, ma'am."

"What?"

"That boy. You must be careful" David says when we make it to my hotel room.

"I don't know what you are talking about" I shrug.

"Eleanor..."

"You only call me by my name when it is something serious" I chuckle.

"Because this is serious. You are the future Queen of England, and he is a football player. It can't be."

"Why not?" 

"Haven't you heard what I just said?"

"Urgh" I complain.

"Eleanor, I know you fancy him. And he seems to fancy you too."

"Wait, what? You think he... You think he fancies me?”

"Yes, I do. To be honest, I don’t know how no one else has noticed. Especially today. You were so reckless...”

“We were just talking, David. And somewhere private.”

“But you are Eleanor, Princess of Wales. Talking about you sells. Imagine that someone in that changing room notices they way you were looking at each other, they tell their partner or a friend about it, and that person isn’t careful or tells the press about it. Or imagine that someone was taking a photo or a video with their phones, they post it on social media, and someone sees you.”

“But...”

“This relationship is not possible, Eleanor. Not even as a fling like happened last summer with Damiano. It just can't. So you better stop it before it even starts."

"What if I can't, David?" I sigh.

"It doesn’t matter. You must end this, Eleanor. You must."

[ln-stories]

Leviathan's Mc!

This is the third drawing and headcannons of my mini series with the obey me charachers and their custom mcs. Previously i did Mammon's mc if you want you can check my page. After alot of thought i decided to make Levi's mc next. I'm accepting request for the next characher reccomentations, Ty for reading and enjoy!.

(Apologies for any grammar mistakes.)

Third Leviathan's MC

Warnings: Spoiler alert of the lessons, small swear words.

Heacannons:

This mc (he/him)

Personality: energetic, optimistic, shy sometimes Really Forgetful, aloof, secretly a Weeb, sensitive (very sensitive if someone bully him about his horns. Protect at all costs.)

1)This Mc is a medium size fella not to big not too small. A perfect size with much floof. He always have a pink blush in his face, He doesn't know why XDDD

2)when he arrived at devildom he was the only one that was asleep. When he woke up he was thinking that everything was a dream (bad one since he was seeing demons surrounding him). Poor guy had an existential crisis when he learned that it wasn't a dream.

3)At first he wouldn't get out of his room at all. He was really scared. Lucifer assignmented Levi to guide him in the devildom since this Mc showed a very introverted nature with them. Lucifer also hoped that Levi would find a new friend since he was locked himself in his room. 

4)The first meeting was awkward.. VERY awkward, With Levi repeating calling everyone a normie including the mc. This backfired with a big surprise cuz this mc is secretly a weeb, as one manga comic of an anime series that the mc was watching fell on the floor.

5)After that they has a duel what realm has the better anime and games. The jealousy and tesion was so intence you could cut it with a knife XDDD. They had a big rivalry with eachother proving the superiority of their favourite series and games. (i imagine the MC doing jojo poses and Levi be like "WTF am i watching now???")

6)After the TSL showdown, Mc was really hurt with Leviathan actions, both of them took some time to cool off. Levi admitted that Mc won and decided to make peace with them, earning Leviathan pact. (the pact mark is visible on one of Mc's ears).

7)This mc had many incecurities and it turns out he was bullied alot in RAD. One of Mc's incecurities is that he didn't had any horns compared to other mcs of this series. 

8) Slowly both leaviathan and mc started hanging out exhanging games and anime series that they should try out. They bonded over the colorful characters and funny scenes to the point they turned thing into regular meetings in Levi's room.

9) Both of them failing classess Miserably since they spend alot of time together playing very late at night. They almost had to repeat a year.

10) Leviathan and Mc have a wholesome relationship mostly, thought sometimes Levi jealousy and incecurities gets in the way.

11) Levi and Mc had alot of deep talks with their gaming sessions. Levi always remembered that they were incecure about not having horn like the others. Sooo Levi decided to do something about it.

12) Since Levi is a premium member of Akuzon... He decided to buy secret magic horns for the mc as a token of appreciation for all the good times they had so far. (The mc loved them and wore them everyday, the bullies got real quiet after that XDD). Also gifts are also an often thing that Levi does to mc, whitch include manga and special limited stuff.

13) After some time Levi and Mc are inseparable, either they are hanging out to levi room, or Mc's room. Not anywhere near outdoors. (only on events with the others, otherwise outside? Big no)

14) Levi is getting jealous alot when the Mc is hanging out with someone else other than him. Overthinking alot that the mc doesn't care for him anymore. (whitch is not true). Well he is the avatar of envy, its literally his first nature.. 

15) Sometimes his jealous issues are getting severe alot sometimes he doesn't act upon them, sometimes he does.. and when it does he doesn't let mc out of his room, making excuses for "cmon one more episode mcccc pleaseee! It's about to get good!!".

16) The mc is guarding Levi rooms at times whenever he away so that Mammon doesn't steal stuff or money. One time Mammon tried to steal a limited edition ruri-chan figuring and it didn't end well for Mammon since Mammon's mc will drag his ass away and apologize for him to the mc and Levi.

17) Mammon's mc and Leaviathan's mc have a very wholesome bond. Kind of like a wholesome sibling bond. Whitch is soo cuteee.

18) Sometimes the mc with levi will play online with the angels luke and simeon. Lets say we all know who wins those online games XDDD. (poor luke and simeon RIP)

19)This mc is very forgetful sometimes, when events are coming up, Levi is always making sure to remind them and ask them if they wanna go together. (sooo wholesome and shyy)

20) After RAD ended The mc didn't wanna return to the human realm, He got too attached to the devildom. He visits the human realm from time to time but he usually likes to stay at the devildom with his favourite person Levi. He made connections with the others as well. (closest friendships Mammon, Levi, simeon, luke and Mammon's mc)

Thank you for reading! i'm accepting requests for the next characher and the custom mc. Have a nice day!