#i give up drawing the flower patterns

[akq96618]

[hyacynthii]

This is a gift, it comes with a price. Who is the lamb and who is the knife?

[giuliettagaltieri]

Not Her Man

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Feathers fall gracefully slow

Warning: Girlrotting

Word Count: 3193

Part 1 • Part 3

You were always scared to do drugs.  

You saw Rafe at his highs, you were with him, keeping him from doing anything stupid like when he was so sure he could backflip from Tanneyhill’s rooftop and land on the grass perfectly. 

But you also wondered how difficult it was for him to get clean.  To suffer from withdrawals.  And as you lie on your fur carpet, staring at the glimmering crystals of your chandelier, with your closet half emptied and scattered all around your room, along with rolling wine bottles on the polished hardwood floor of your bedroom, you think you might have understood just a little.

Blocking him was the hardest thing you have ever done in your life, especially when it was your routine to giggle over whatever interaction you had through text that day.  The itch to open his account for any update made you want to bind your hands together.

Your parents are out of the country, busy overseeing their business, forgetting to oversee their daughter.  Your maids were there for you, at least they try to be.  They bring you food on schedule, even sliding in a few scoops of ice cream every now and then in your room when your sobs start to echo around the halls.

Rafe tried to contact you multiple times.  First, through your phone, but you blocked him.  Next, he tried to throw pebbles at your window, but your seventy-six year old gardener fired a shotgun at him, thinking that he was a burglar.  Next, he tried a different approach, he was sending you gigantic bouquets of your favorite flowers, making the hallway leading to your room look like a wedding set up, the flowers perfumed the entire house too, drawing a concerning amount of bees.  One epipen to your chef’s thigh later, Rafe stops sending them.

He never really does anything right.  All he does is mess up, create more problems for himself.  You almost wanted to give in, but you remind yourself of the things he said.  Anger and hurt quickly replaces pity.

A familiar chime of your phone had you groaning.  Your friends are probably going to have another attempt of making you step out of your room, like inviting you to have your nails done or shop, just to get your mind off of Rafe.

You just let the ringtone end and you go back to staring at the chandelier, wondering if you’ll be quick enough to get out of the way if it somehow falls.  Before you can plan a strategic roll, your phone rings again.

Blindly reaching underneath the scattered pillows, you finally locate the buzzing device.  You answer without looking at the caller ID. 

“Y/N speaking.”  You mumble lazily.

“Hey, girlie.”  There goes the high-pitched voice of your friend.  “Sooo, the girls and I-hush!”  You hear a bunch of girls giggling behind the line and your brows crease together in annoyance.  “We’re going on a party tonight and we’re thinking that maybe you’d liketocomewithus?”

You play with the lace of your dress, eyes just following the patterns when you hear your name being called again over the phone.

“I’m not in the mood for parties.” 

“You are never in the mood for anything anymore.”  She whines behind the line.  Her tone prompts you to sit up to pick up the stale wine you left out in the open for too long.  Taking a sip and ignoring the thin coat of dust it caught after you ransacked your closet for something that made you look confident, only for you to end up squeezing in the dress that Rafe got you as a present for your 13th birthday.  He didn’t pick it out for you, of course, but it still made you all fizzy and bubbly and excited inside.

You put down the wine to scratch at the waistband that is digging on the skin of your under bust, the fabric being stretched beyond its capacity.

“I know.”  You tried to sound apologetic.  “I just can’t, okay?”

She sighs, making you let out a grateful sigh.  There’s still some ceiling viewing you had to get back to.

“I’m picking you up at seven.”  She speaks with finality and before you can answer, she continues.  “Please don’t let that awful man get the satisfaction of knowing that he has this much effect on you.”  You can hear her begging behind the phone.  She and the other girls are just looking out for you.

With an unwilling heart, you decide to get on your feet, your socked foot nearly slipping the moment it touches the wooden floor.  Cursing, you finally crouch on the piled up clothes you threw earlier. 

“Fine, I’ll come.”  You roll your eyes.  “Dresscode?”

You hear an airy chuckle and you can imagine her pinching your cheeks if you were within her reach.  “Party’s open to all, Kooks or Pogues.  In the community beach house.  You dress however you like.  I’ll match your vibe, if you’d like.”

This makes a smile creep on your lips.  She’s definitely on the top 10 list of the most annoying people you know but you thank God everyday for a friend like her.  “You know I love you, right?”

She snorts before bursting out in a fit of laughter.  “Duh.  I love you too.”

“See you later.”  You grin.  “Tell the girls I’m coming too.”

“Sure, see you!” 

You hang up and get started on searching for the right outfit.  Well, there’s the classic white flowy dresses, but everybody wears them.  You could wear a short and a cute top, show some belly?  Blech, you’re not exactly in one of your maneater moods.  But perhaps if you covered it with that oversized white pinstriped polo, it could work?  Yeah, something casual yet put together.  It’s not like you’re dressing to impress anybody, or somebody in particular, you’d prioritize comfort over fashion tonight.

A knock on your bedroom door pulls you from your thoughts.  With a shrug, you throw your chosen clothes on your bed.

“Coming.”  You call while trudging over to open the door.  There stood your maid, she was looking anxious, wringing her wrinkly hands.  “What is it?”

She glances at your odd choice of clothing before she looks away so as to not make you uncomfortable.  “Well, uhm, Sir Cameron is here again, miss.  He’s waiting for you downstairs, in the drawing room.”

You press your lips in a firm line.  “Tell him I’m not here.”

Your maid smiles apologetically.  “He…he saw you in your bedroom window before he came in, miss.”

Huffing, you tap your feet impatiently.  “Just tell him I’m busy.”

“He said you’ll say that.”  She mutters, amusement in her tone.  “And he asked us to tell you that he can wait.”

You close your eyes to keep them from rolling.  “Whatever, he can stay as long as he likes, but I’m not coming down to meet him.”  You push the door a little wider and your maid’s eyes widen at the state of your room.  “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy but can you help me clean up?”

The rest of the afternoon was spent tidying up your room. 

It was dark out, a couple of minutes past seven when your phone buzzed.  Knowing that it’s your girlfriends, you pick your bag, filled with the usual party necessities and head downstairs.  It’s a habit, assigning yourself as the responsible friend who stays sober to look after the others.

You are slipping in the pearl bracelet your grandmother got for you last Christmas when you hear your name being called and in instinct, you turn around.

“Oh, right.”  You say with a tone that is drier than the Sahara desert.  “You’re here.”

Rafe’s standing just outside your drawing room, his hands falling to his side.

“Yeah.”  He spoke awkwardly, his eyes glancing at your outfit, familiarity crossing them before he looked at your eyes again.  “I was waiting for you.”

You exhale softly and he just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

“I know.”  You say simply.  “Gotta go.”  You start walking again to your door.

“Wait, Y/N.” He easily catches up.  “You’re…you’re coming to the party, right?”  He asks hopefully.

“Yes.”  You respond without looking at him.

Rafe smiles but it quickly dissipates when he sees a different car waiting for you.  “Hold on, I can drive you there.”  He says quickly, his hand gripping yours just to get you to listen to him.  “I can drive you to the party.”  He says in an uncharacteristically sheepish way.

For a second, you look at him, really look at him.  His smile grows wide.  He missed having your eyes on him.  You’re his best friend, and he’s used to doing everything with you by his side.  He also liked how dependent you were on him too, always asking for his approval.  You have a bit of an overbearing attitude but he would be lying if he’ll say that he doesn’t miss you doting on him too.  Perhaps you’re not the only one who’s dependent on this odd friendship you both have.

“No, thank you.”  You say before pulling your hand away with a sharp look thrown his way.  He watches you walk away to greet your friends.  He’s still stuck there, staring, even after the car drives away.

He doesn’t understand it.

You’re the emotional one, why are you doing so well without him?  You never go to parties with other people, it was always him that you stick close to.  Clinging on him, pulling him to the dance floor when he’s about to do a line of coke, or accidentally knocking his cup when he’s had too much drinks.

Running a hand through his face, Rafe decides to hop on his car and follow you to the party.  You’ll be in the same space as him in the next few hours.  He’ll get another chance there.  He’s certain of it.

He didn’t get the chance.

With you by his side all the time, you memorized his set of activities at parties and you evaded him perfectly.  Rafe decided that it was best to stand by the punch table.  You’d get thirsty eventually, and he’ll be there waiting if you do.

On the other side of the house, farthest from Rafe, there you sit by the porch swing, admiring the push and pull of the waves.  The party was at its climax and everybody was cramped inside the house, dancing and drinking, or doing unholy activities.  You don’t know how you managed to slip away from your friends but you’re glad you did.  You needed the fresh air.

You’re just starting to get comfortable when a man stumbles out the door.  You watch him struggle to keep himself up.  He looked lost? Or just flat out drunk.  You watch in amusement as he scratches his blonde head, he must be having a whiplash from all the blinding neon lights inside and suddenly his vision switches to the bright light provided by the LEDs. 

His feet twist and he starts to fall to the side, your head tilting to follow his fall.  You wince when you hear the loud thud of his body hitting the floor, followed by his muffled but loud groaning.

“Motherfu-”  He sits on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him as he shakes his head like a dog.

“You alright, JJ?”  You chuckle.

He whips his head to you, cursing again when his vision spins.  “Y/N?”  He drawls out while rubbing his eyes.  “You saw everything?”

Still laughing, you get up to crouch next to him.  “I did.”  You smile when he groans out again.  “Are you okay?”

He props up a knee and rests an arm there, he looks buzzed, his eyes are heavily lidded as he stares off into the ocean.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  He glances at you.  “Well, this is a strange sight.”

“What is?”  You mumble as you look away from him, deciding to play dumb.

He shrugs animatedly, hands gesturing to you and the entire space of the porch.  “Usually, wherever you are, your boyfriend is not that far behind.”  He points a thumb behind him.  “And if I wasn’t imagining it, I’m pretty sure I just saw him brooding over the drinks.”

You chuckle dryly as you bring your knees to your chest.  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

JJ looks at you with an unimpressed face.  “That’s all you heard.”

Playfully punching his shoulder, you sigh.  “We fought.”

He frowns, back straightening immediately.  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”  It’s kind of sweet how your words seemed to have sobered him really quick.

“No!  No, he didn’t.”  You reply right away.  “Well, at least not physically.”

You watch him grimace.  “Outside physical fights, I have little to no idea how to respond.”

“That’s okay, JJ.  I don’t wanna talk about it, anyway.”

He gives you a boyish grin, as if to reassure you before scratching at his jaw, your eyes mindlessly follow his movements and you see a scratch.

“You’re hurt.”  You tell him, pointing at your own jaw.

“Huh?”  He touches his jaw and winces.  “Ow!  Must’ve scratched myself when I…uhm.”

“When you decided to attack the floor.”  You finish for him and he clears his throat.  “You’ll have to disinfect it.”

“Pfft, it’s fine.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s just a scratch.”

But you are already grabbing your bag by the swing and you return with a small kit.

“I forgot to bring wipes.”  You mumble before crouching down in front of him.  He swallows at your close proximity.  “Come on, JJ.  It’s just antibacterial cream.”

He hesitantly shows you his face and you gently apply the cream, tutting when he dramatically pulls away.

You grab his face and tilt it slightly and JJ squeezes his eyes.

“It fucking stings.”  He nearly whines, making you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be a baby!”  You huff and he stays still for a second, allowing you to smear the cream evenly and he rolls away from you as soon as you’re done.

JJ was muttering about God knows what while you’re busy putting your stuff away.  When you sit next to him again, he’s much calmer, a lazy smile back on his face again.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You throw him a playful glare.  “You’re welcome.”

He touches the scratch and you almost tell him off but he quickly pulls his hand away. 

“Why didn’t Cameron make you his girl?”

You blow out a big sigh.  “He doesn’t like me.”

“Bullshit.”  He laughs but he clears his throat when you look at him unamused.  “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”  You smile at him genuinely before averting your eyes.  “I wouldn’t blame him.  I mean, you saw how I can be.”  You chuckle this time but there’s no humor on JJ’s face, he’s looking at you rather sadly.  “I care too much and everybody suffocates around me.”

“I don’t.”  He says quickly.  “I was just being dramatic earlier.”  He rubs his nape.  “I’m not used to having people tend to me, I mostly just do it myself.”  He seeks your eyes and you finally look at him. 

You hear a creak behind you but before you can look, JJ cups your face to keep you from breaking your eye contact, making your breath hitch.

“I liked being taken care of like that.”  He whispers and your lips part slightly.

“JJ.”  You say breathlessly and he grins, his face leaning dangerously close to you.  “You’re drunk.”

He gently bites his bottom lip and you have to look away from his blatant flirting.  “I’m sober enough to kiss, I promise.”

This…this isn’t right.  

You gently push him away and his lips immediately form a pout.  “You’re such a kid, JJ.”

He clicks his tongue and angrily stoops as he glares at the ocean.  “You had no idea how long it took me to build the courage to do that.”

“Five minutes?”  You jokingly bump his shoulders, making his act break at the edges, a smile threatening to crack on his lips.  “Seriously, J, I can’t kiss drunk guys.  It’s unethical.”

He mimics you in a childish voice and buries his face on his palms harshly.  He turns to you again, with his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead and red blotches appearing on some areas of his face.  “I’m not as drunk as you think I am.”  The way he glances at your lips had your throat drying up.  “I really wanted to kiss you.”  Aside from Rafe, you have little to no experience with the male attention and frankly, you don’t know what to do.

You place a hand on his shoulder and stiffly pat it twice.  “You’ll get over it.”

JJ looks at you exasperatedly.  “You’re taking this too lightly, this is my feelings we are talking about.”

You stifle a laughter.  “Oh, so you have feelings for me.”  You raise a brow at him and he nods his head enthusiastically.

“Every guy on this island has a thing for you.”  He says animatedly.  “If it wasn’t for your bodyguard, we would have made our move long ago.”

You are deeply flattered, you can’t resist the girlish smile from tugging on your lips, your cheeks slowly heating up.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He looks deeply offended and places a hand on his chest.

“You’re the ultimate dream girl, stupid!”  He dodges a punch from you.  “You’re like the total package.  You’re sweet, and smart, you’re also very pretty, you can be funny too when you let loose.”  He wiggles his eyebrows at you and this pulls a laughter from you, a real, genuine laughter that had your shoulders shaking.

“When are you gonna get serious, J?”  Wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, you get up.  “Wait here, I’ll get us a drink.”

He gives you a two finger salute before lying smack down on the floor, with his arms spread out.  You shake your head, chuckling when you open the door.

And your hair stands on end.

There stood the very person you have been avoiding the entire night.

But for once, he isn’t wearing a scowl or a condescending cocky smile.

He was looking at you like a man defeated and broken.

“Rafe.”  You whisper as you reach for him but you stop yourself before your skin can touch.  He looks at your hand and then your eyes.  You don’t know if it’s the trick of light but you could have sworn his eyes are glassy.

“Hey, Y/N, everything alright?”  JJ calls.

Rafe glances at JJ and then back at you, he nods slowly as he takes a step back.  Your heart aches as you watch him take another step away from you but you will yourself not to follow.  He runs a hand on his mouth and he turns away from you.

You stare at his back as he leaves, torn between choosing your own pride or running after him.  For what seemed like hours, you stood there, frozen.  Still lost in the onslaught of emotions that surged through you.

Not Your Girl • His Girl

[dark-moonlust]

Bound by the Rose Mark

This commission is owned by Kate Hart. As the original writer, I strictly forbid any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent.

Pairing: beast oc (Alaric) x f!reader

Summary: This is a story with Beauty and the Beast vibes. You live in a grand castle with a beast named Alaric. One day, you accidentally touch him and a glowing rose tattoo appears on your skin. Alaric explains that the tattoo is a sign of a curse that binds the two of you together. You can't get more than a few steps away from him without feeling pain and arousal. Forced to stay close, you both succumb to your feelings and the deep connection between you.

Warnings: 18+, mid-eighteenth century story, true love curse, beauty and the beast vibes, magic tattoo bonding, virgin reader, oral (fem receiving), foreplay and stimulation, p in v sex, big 🍆, belly bulge, knotting, lots of 💦.

I completely forgot to post this commission! Enjoy!!

Château d'Azay-le-Rideau, France - 1750

“Make it stop!” you groaned, wide eyes on the Beast, who stood calmly by the fire, his large, furred form casting long shadows over the walls. “Please, just… make it stop!”

“I cannot do that.” Came his voice, steady and infuriatingly husky.

The moonlight shone through the castle's grand windows, pouring glittering beams across your body as you paced back and forth, the tap of your boots echoing on the sleek floor. Your fingers moved nervously against the mark on your wrist, the delicate rose pattern twisting and developing, shimmering softly against your skin. With each passing second, the flower vines extended further up your arm, emitting a sweet warmth.

It all began a year ago with a professional agreement. The Beast was Lord of the Castle and needed someone to govern it. You were that person. You lived in his huge fortress and worked as his chamberlain. But what began as a rigid work agreement quickly turned into closeness. 

In the past months, you’d grown used to his company, you were after all, alone in a huge castle with no one but a few servants to talk. He’d gifted you his enormous library, a beautiful haven of literature. He also spent time with you every day, taking you on walks to the gardens, organizing big dinners, music nights, and theatrical nights. You’d been foolish to allow yourself to get comfortable, to hover close enough and be tempted to touch him.

But his fur had appeared so silky and inviting. What was one touch?

You'd succumbed to the temptation and touched him, curved your small palm over his massive arm. 

A moment later, all order unraveled. 

A weird tingling sensation had begun to emerge from your wrist, and as you looked down, a red rose began to light softly, its delicate petals winding up your wrist, its thorny vines snaking out, tracing your skin with intricate detail. The tattoo was enchanted and even now— it continued to spread on your arm.

Oh, how foolish and naive you had been! To approach him so carelessly, hovering so close that his mere presence seemed to draw you in. It was foolish to give in to your curiosity, reaching out to touch him despite the warnings. And now, this—this thing—was strangely connecting you to him in ways you couldn't fathom.

The Beast—no, Alaric, as he was once known—kept staring at you like an idiot, his sharp features unreadable. He didn’t even look troubled. Why would he be? For once, he wasn’t the one in trouble. He rather enjoyed it, wicked Frenchman that he was. Yet as you glanced at him, you felt another spark, a liquid warmth in your belly. His form, massive and imposing, stood out against the moonlight, making the entire hall feel smaller, more intimate.

Alaric had been cursed long long ago, cursed to find misery, coldness and no love. His face was no longer that of a beautiful Prince but of a beast with horns, sharp teeth and lion’s mane. He was massive and muscled, with strong legs and a wolf-like tail. His clothing was still royal, tailored to fit his form. He looked as elegant and well-groomed as possible.  

With an exasperated groan, you stroked your wrist harder, the glow intensifying with each stroke of your fingers. "Damn! Why doesn't it stop?! Please, stop it!"

He spoke with a long sigh, his voice low and rumbling. "I told you I cannot do that."

"You can't or you won't?"

"It's the mark of the curse…" His glance swept across your wrist. "There is no undoing it."

Your heart sunk at his words. You were aware of his curse but had no idea it could be transmitted through touch. Damnation! And damn the warmth of the mark, affecting your whole body. It felt warm and wet between your thighs as if a fire was spreading beneath your skin, connecting you to him. Every pulse of fire reminded you of your error.

“I… I didn’t ask for this!” you protested, rubbing at the mark as if you could wipe it away with sheer willpower. “I was just—just curious! I did not want to be cursed.”

“You touched me, therefore now you will pay. You are bound to me.”

You shot him a sharp look, waving your pulsing wrist in the air. “You could have warned me that I’d get cursed just by touching you!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “But I did warn you not to touch me, didn’t I? You were simply too curious.”

“I thought you were goading me, challenging me! You didn’t mention the part where I’d be magically tethered to you like a pet on a leash,” you snapped despite the lingering warmth in your chest. 

“You are wild and untamed. Always speaking back to me, always doing as you please. It’s your fault, little one.”

“Still…” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”

“Where would the fun in that be?”

“Oh, yes, this is so hilarious. I’m cursed with a pulsing tattoo— it glows like a freaking beacon by the way—and you’re not in the least concerned.”

“The mark will stop glowing once you accept it.”

“I’ll never accept it!”

Alaric sighed. “The curse cast upon me ensured I would never be loved. I was cursed to live as a beast, hated and feared... alone."

You gazed at him, the weight of his words hurting your heart. His formidable, imposing frame suddenly appeared fragile.

“However,” he continued, “there is a way… for the curse to wane. Not to break it entirely, but weaken its grasp. The curse weakens—forever— when I am touched by someone who genuinely loves me.”

“So… this mark…”

Alaric nodded. “It means you are the one fated to love me. And because of that, the curse has loosened its grip on me. Though I can never return to the man I once was, I can have love.”

Your eyes welled with emotion, but you refused to cry in front of him. “So… this is permanent?" 

Alaric hummed and stepped close, his towering frame suddenly feeling much too close. “I’m sorry… but you are now bonded to me, my thorny rose,” he purred. “Alas, you could have worse company, no? And the mark… I think it’s quite beautiful.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Beautiful? It’s so big and so… damn hot!”

“That temper of yours…” he sighed softly, in a way a beast like him never would. “Of course it makes you hot. The closer we are, the more it will affect you. It’s a sign that our bond is… flourishing.”

You blinked, rubbing your thighs together at the effect of his deep voice, presence and scent. “Flourishing? My wrist isn’t a garden, Alaric. This is my skin. And I assure you, it’s not supposed to glow.”

“We are connected. The curse… it has tied our fates together. The more we fight it— both of us— the more painful it will become."

You swallowed hard. “And if I… don’t fight it? Will it stop and leave my skin?”

“No. Never, little one. The mark will just settle there, binding you to me, fully and irrevocably. But… I’m afraid we cannot stray far from one another without feeling pain.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His lips curled, showing just the barest flash of sharp teeth. “Immensely.”

Stupefied, you spun around, intending to get some fresh air but the moment you moved away, a sudden, scorching pain went through your chest, making you gasp. He was there instantly, steadying you with a large, clawed hand. You curled into his body, sighing pleasantly at the feel of his fur against your skin. It felt so good, warm and inviting, his musky scent tantalizing your senses. You hadn’t realized it but your hands were buried in his forearms, holding him to you.

“Foolish one,” he muttered, his breath warm against your temples. “What did I just tell you?”

“Alaric…” you sighed, meeting his eyes with reluctant acceptance. “Make it stop, please, make this ache go away.”

A low chuckle escaped him as he rubbed your wrist, feeling the warmth pulsating beneath your skin and tracing the delicate rose mark. The rose's delicate vines had wrapped themselves around your forearm, growing faintly. You bit back a moan, despite everything, you felt the pull—the odd bond that bound you to him, pulling you nearer to him with each breath.

“Ah, yes… it can be intense. Every step you take away from me will only bring more pain, more desire pooling deep inside.”

“Deep inside?”

Alaric raised a brow, a glint in his eyes. “Hmm, deep inside your cunt. I can scent your sweet arousal. Always could scent your need for me.”

You looked away. His words made you wet. Tenderly, he turned your face back to him. There was no hiding your blush or emotions.

“The curse bound us together. Two halves meant to be one. And if we give in…” he trailed off, his huge palm framing your face. “Would it be that bad?”

The tension in the room shifted as he stood there, with you in his arms, the strange pull between you palpable. Were you truly the one for him? Your heart stuttered. The idea of being physically and emotionally bound to Alaric—a beast of both grace and power —was captivating.

And the more you thought about it, the more your heart and body betrayed you. Oh dear… Yes, you wanted him. You wanted him with every ounce of your soul. Right on cue, the tattoo—its once glowing petals and vines now settled into a permanent black design that curled up your forearm. Becoming a part of you.

You didn’t resist when Alaric scooped you up, carrying you through hallways to his private chamber— a huge, opulent bedroom with polished wood and velvet furnishings, tapestries hanging on the walls, and a stone fireplace crackling in the corner. The bed was the largest piece of furniture in the room; it had a dark purple canopy covered in silk and velvet covers making it appear incredibly soft and inviting.

Alaric lowered you on the plush bedding and he came to rest beside you, his body half-looming over you, massive yet tender and protective. His eyes, golden and intense, settled on you then down to the rose mark. His fingers, clawed but surprisingly gentle, traced the rose before his tongue brushed a petal of the tattoo, feather-light, sending a shiver of electricity racing up your spine.

You watched, breathless, as he nuzzled and licked every petal, every vine, every thorn, his muzzle soft against your skin. The heat of his breath warmed you as he worked his way up your forearm, his mouth following the intricate lines of the rose, savoring every inch of it. With each kiss, your pulse quickened, your body shamelessly hot, your pussy dripping slick.

“Alaric…” you said in a sultry voice you could hardly recognize.

“Easy. We’ll take it slow, my thorny rose.”

As he said that, his lips hovered just inches from your collarbone. His tongue darted out, tracing the delicate indentation at the base of your neck. A sweet gasp escaped you as he licked a slow, tortuous trail down the round tops of your breasts, pulled up by your corset and your bodice. The laces on your bodice came undone, the corset disposed of in seconds as he skillfully drew the fabric down your waist, exposing your breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze.

Your body arched closer to his, your nipples hardening into tight, aching buds. His eyes locked onto yours before he bent down and let his tongue trace the underside of each mound. You whined, burning so fiercely with desire as he licked the around your areolas. Teasing and exploring. Never quite getting to your sensitive nipples.

“Alaric,” you warned, thrusting your chest to his mouth.

“How I love it when you call my name.”

And with that, he licked one tiny bud, causing your body to shiver with want. Your hands gripped his horns, keeping him in place as he lapped one nipple, sucking wetly, his saliva and scent mingling on your skin. He did the same with the other nipple, and your body melted into his, hips arching up, breasts thrust sweetly into his lips.

You were lost in passion and he was only touching you.

You craved more. You wanted to touch, feel, and own every part of him.

Boldly, your hands slid up to his jacket, tugging at the heavy fabric, feeling its weight between your fingertips. You dragged his jacket away and he helped you remove it along with his shirt, without quite taking his tongue and hands off your breasts. Furry broad shoulders were revealed and a powerful, sculpted chest and stomach.

Large hands encompassed your tits as he growled softly and angled his head, his tongue trailing the curve of your neck. His fingers pinched your nipples, careful of his claws. Your breath hitched and you tilted your head back, offering him more.

“Oh god… yesss,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Blindly, you brought his mouth to you, needing to feel his kiss. But he hesitated, pulling back slightly. His golden eyes met yours, darkened with desire but shadowed with worry.

“I’m afraid… of hurting you,” he drawled. “I have no lips and my teeth… they’re sharp. I don’t want to—”

“Use your tongue,” you whispered, breathless, gone was the shyness in you. “Please.”

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, but then, as though unable to resist any longer, he surged forward. His mouth opened, and his tongue, hot and insistent, swept across your lips before plunging deeply. Deeper still. He tasted you, swallowed your breaths, and pressed his moist and burning tongue against yours, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through you with each stroke. You gasped into his mouth, the sound drowned out by the sheer intensity of the kiss, your hands grabbing his shoulders.

The sound of fabric tearing and garments hitting the floor was the only indication of what was to come.

The flickering light in the room danced across your flesh, both naked and unashamed. His body enveloped yours, his weight pressing down on you, his thighs spreading your legs apart. The sheer size of him caused your pussy to clench. His shaft was a massive veined rod of flesh, long and thick, with a knot at the base. His cock throbbed and leaked moisture, and his balls thick and heavy, hung like ripe fruit.

You couldn't help but reach out, a little bashful as your fingers stroked the silky warmth of his shaft. It was both firm and tender, as hot as touching a blazing flame. Alaric snarled and watched your small hands. You trailed the protruding veins and bulbous head all the way down to the bulging sac. He growled, his entire body tense.

“Such soft gentle touches. But I can’t—little one. I need to taste you, have you.”

You opened your mouth to protest but whined instead when his tongue licked the delicate folds of your pussy. Your body ignited, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. Spine arching, you opened your legs obscenely wide, his head buried in between, wet tongue consuming your depths. He thrust his appendage inside, snarling primitively, and you sighed delightfully, your cunt pressing against his mouth as you shut your eyes tightly and surrendered to the passion.

“Mmmmm, so breathtaking,” he drawled, his tongue gracing your cunt. “I love the rose mark on your skin but even more so the petals on your wet cunt… so lovely and wet. I love to tease and lick them.”

Eyes holding your own, he hooked his large hands around your thighs, bringing them around his furred torso. His dick, massive and twitching, stroked against the wet petals of your cunt. He lubricated himself; you were soaked and ready to receive him. You wiggled and squirmed, impatiently attempting to guide him inside. Finally, with a gentle nudge, he growled, and the broad popped in.

Cupped your ass, he pushed inside, his cock gliding into you in one smooth thrust. You were incredibly tight, untouched and you gasped at the slight discomfort of the invasion. Despite his size, he somehow fit, his body seemingly designed to mold itself to yours. Your cunt was stretched wide, only his knot showing, and your belly bulged slightly, revealing the curve of his shaft beneath your skin.

Alaric caressed your belly lovingly as if marveling at the sight. “Yes, mine. It will be alright. I promise you. Does it hurt, little one?" 

You shook your head. “Not anymore. Please… hmmm—move. Need to feel you so desperately.”

“As you wish, my rose.”

His eyes never left yours as he thrust out of you, all the way out before slowly filling you up. This time there was no discomfort, only building intensity. His shaft slid in and out of you, the friction reigniting your desire. Your body flexed, your walls squeezing around his dick as he increased the pace. His thrusts became faster and more urgent, and you held him, rocking against him as his tongue stroked yours, making you dizzy with desire. 

Alaric was unstoppable, unrelenting and soon you were both shuddering in climax. He thrust one final time, bottomed out inside you till his swollen knot had popped inside. You whined, muscles contracting around him, your cunt snug around his knot, tying you together. You saw stars, thrashed wildly in little aftershocks as he released, a flood of cum filling you up. It didn’t help that he let out those delicious growls, tongue devouring your mouth.

Time seemed to stand still. You lay there, with him atop you, his dick still pulsing within you, his knot throbbing with a slow beat. It had been minutes and he was still spurting, though slower this time. You basked in the afterglow of your passion, felt so utterly at peace. Your bodies had become one and the tattoo on your wrist had never felt so right.

You were his, completely and utterly his.

“How are you feeling, my thorny rose?” he asked after he’d rolled over so you were draped over his chest, his knot still hard inside you.

“I feel loved,” you said as you rested over his chest feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the fur. “I have never been kissed or loved by anyone like this before—have never felt anything like this before.”

“There is no going back now,” he said possessively. “You gave yourself to me. What I feel for you is raw, primal. It cannot be stopped or contained.”

You grinned. “So, what? I’m just stuck to you for the rest of eternity?”

“Figuratively and literally, I’m afraid,” he said, groaning at the feel of his knot tucked inside your warm cunt.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Alaric’s eyes softened. “I will never be the charming Frenchman I once was. That man’s appearance is gone, replaced by this… beast.”

Smiling, you let your hand reach up to touch his face, tracing the firm lines of his jaw, his fur silky beneath your fingers. “The appearance might be gone,” you whispered, “but your heart isn’t. Besides, I think I’m past wishing for a handsome prince on a white horse. French or not.”

A low chuckle vibrated through his chest. “You’ve got a strange way of looking at things.”

“And you’ve got a strange way of doubting yourself,” you shot back teasingly. “You might not be the Prince you once were, but you’re more than enough for me.”

“Don’t you regret it?” he asked quietly after a few seconds. “Mating with me? That I’ll always be… like this?”

“Oh, I am surprised but this is so lovely,” you murmured, hands caressing his shoulder. “It’s so lovely because I always wanted you to be mine. I've always felt attracted to you but was frightened to admit it. I was also scared you would reject me heartlessly."

“Never. I could never do that.” He took your hand, kissed the rose tattoo on your wrist.

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love. “You are thoroughly mine, Alaric.“

For a moment, he stared at you and a soft, almost amused rumble escaped him. “You really are something,” he drawled, his free hand brushing the curve of your ass. “You’ve given me something I thought I could never have again." 

“I am yours,” you whispered. “I love you. All of you, my Beast.”

“I love you more, my thorny rose,” he said, his eyes dark with lust.

Smiling, you kissed and made love again —harder, hotter, and wetter.

THE END

[finelinevogue]

soulmates

summary - your boyfriend visits you at uni and you’re getting ready to go out for the night

pairing - university-boyfriend!harry x uni!reader

word count - ~2.5k

🌙☕️🍯🍁🌙☕️🍯🍁🌙☕️🍯🍁🌙☕️🍯🍁🌙

Harry was visiting you for the first time, after not seeing him for a month.

You hadn’t seem him for so long since he now lives across the country at his own university, down south.

Being childhood sweethearts had made going to university difficult on your relationship, but you were determined to make it work. You loved Harry and Harry loved you too much to just give up. Neither were you going to give up your dream uni courses just to be with each other in the same city.

It was decided it was best to not see each other until a month after settling into uni, otherwise you’d never settle.

You had started planning when you were going to finally see each other again, before Harry surprised you one day by messaging you his train tickets after deciding enough was enough.

And now here you are.

Together.

You’re currently in your bedroom, with Harry’s bags chucked on the floor.

He hadn’t cared about them and neither had you. Both of you just wanted to be with each other - near each other.

You hadn’t moved off the bed since he arrived two hours ago.

You were laid down side by side. Harry’s arm over your waist and up the back of his t-shirt, drawing patterns on the skin of your back. His other arm had his head propped up so he had a little height advantage on you.

An advantage that he used to sneak quick kisses onto your lips when he couldn’t resist any longer.

“I like Poppy, though.” He said.

“So you only like my female flatmates? Hmm, interesting.” You smirked.

“I don’t not like Aaron and Joel.”

“Mhm.”

“I just… like Poppy, Farrah and Maria more.”

“Did you know Joel is gay and Aaron has a girlfriend?” You bit your lip, awaiting his response.

“And suddenly I like them more.” He laughed, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to hide his embarrassment.

He knows you caught him out on being a little jealous of your two male flatmates, but you’d been exactly the same when you’d seen how pretty his female flatmates were too.

But now, you’d both gotten over that jealousy. You knew you were only for each other. There was this feeling that you got with each other that you’d both never felt with anyone else.

“Poppy suggested going out tonight?” You suggested, combing your fingers through his hair as his face was still buried in your neck.

“To where?”

You smiled at the feeling of his breath against your neck. It was a ticklish feeling you’d forgotten how much you adored.

“A bar. Or club, maybe?”

“Do you wanna go? They’re your flatmates.” He moved his head to prop it back up again.

“I want to do whatever you’re comfortable with. Poppy only suggested it, because they want to get to know you.”

“They wanna scout me out, hm?” Harry chuckled.

“They already trust you. You brought me flowers and an extra bag with your clothes just for me to keep.”

You leant up to kiss him and he let you, leaning his head down so you didn’t strain yourself.

His hand snuck out from your t-shirt and went to cup your cheek, holding it so he could kissed you how and where he wanted.

You ended up kissing for longer than just an innocent peck, before pulling back to the conversation.

“Maybe we should just stay in.” You sighed, trying to pull his full pink lips back to yours.

Harry smiled but didn’t allow you to kiss him again. “Think with your normal brain, not your sex brain.”

“Sex brain?” You chuckled, “Why would I be thinking about sex?” You asked rhetorically.

You let out a laugh you didn’t even realise you had in you when Harry tickled your side in retaliation. Harry started chuckling when he heard you laugh and laugh.

“Stop! Harry, stop!”

Harry’s hand immediately went over your mouth to shut you up.

“Oi, I don’t need your flatmates to think I’m murdering you - what with these thin walls.” He rolled his eyes as you recovered.

“Dickhead.” You swatted him.

“Love you.” He kissed you and you let him, because God knows you needed to make up for the time apart.

“I love you too.” You said softly, kissing him proper.

You pushed him off you then, reaching over for your phone to see if there were any messages in the group chat about tonights plans.

You sat up in bed against the headboard and Harry wormed his way over so his head could rest on your chest comfortably. He often said he loved how relaxed feeling your chest move up and down made him.

There were a couple of texts when you opened your phone.

Maria: plans??

Aaron: I’m game to go out if you guys are

Maria: i will🫡

Poppy: obvs i will

Poppy: y/n wbu? you can bring harry of course

Joel: Yeah would be nice to see you him since you’ve locked him away in your room

You laughed out loud at Joel’s message, showing Harry your screen which made him chuckle too.

“I’ll go out if you want to, Y/N/N. I’m happy to stay in if you also want to do that. Up to you.”

“I don’t want to get fomo by not going out with them, but I also just want to be with you.” You pouted.

Harry twisted so he could sit up and look at you. “How about we go out and if we get bored or would rather just be in bed, we can leave?”

“Can we get a chippy on our way back and eat them in bed whilst we watch Modern Family?”

“I’ll buy you the damn chips myself if that’s what’ll make you happy.” He kissed you and you couldn’t help but smile at how amazing your boyfriend was.

“Okay then, we’ll go out with them for a bit then.”

“M’kay.” Harry sunk back onto your chest whilst you responded to the group chat.

You: we will bless you with our presence 😌

Farrah: YAY!!! big win

Poppy: does harry have any fit siblings he can bring next time? can stay in my room 👀

You: he has a sister

Maria: win for me

Joel: Loss for me :(

Aaron: So… besides this group chat turning into Tinder. Plans?

Poppy: i say pres in the kitchen at 8 and we’ll leave for town at 10?

You all were happy with that.

“We’ve got 2 hours before we need to be in the kitchen for pres.” You yawned out.

“Great. So i’ll nap for an hour and a half and you’ll start getting ready now?”

You laughed.

“Yup.”

✨•✨•✨•✨•✨•✨•✨•✨•✨•✨•✨•✨•✨

“H? You ready?”

You walked into your bathroom that was private to your room - yes you paid extra just for the luxury - to find Harry gelling his hair in place.

He looked so good.

He’d gone for black trousers that were a straight fit, some Adidas gazelles and a white t-shirt that had a fun print on the front and back. The t-shirt also, apparently, glowed in the dark so you’d know it was him in a club.

You slipped behind him and slunk your arms around his waist, hugging him tight. You breathed in his scent and he smelt so fucking good. There was no way to describe him, other than yours - familiar.

“Yeah.” He responded. “Let me see you.”

He chuckled when you didn’t let him go easily, but was happy when you eventually did.

You were wearing a mini dark-denim skirt with black knee-high boots, and a black corset with a sheer black cardigan that tied over the top.

Of course you’d done your makeup as well, going all out for the night. You’d decided on eyeliner and glittery eyeshadow with a dark maroon lip shade.

Harry smiled whilst shaking his head ever-so-slightly.

“What?” You smiled, furrowing your eyebrows.

“You.”

��What about me?”

Harry held onto both of your hands, pushing you out so he could better see your outfit before pulling you back in close to his chest.

“I’m so lucky you fell in love with me.” He kissed you once.

“Don’t make me cry. This makeup took too long to ruin.” Your eyes welled up buy you willed no tears to fall.

“You look beautiful.” He kissed you again. “Gorgeous.” And again. “Hot.” Again. “Mine.”

You chuckled against his lips when he kissed you one final time, leaving a subtle tinge to his lips from where your lipstick had stained.

You brought your thumb up to wipe the mark away, but he tilted his head away before you could as apparently he wanted it there.

“Missed you so much.” You wrap your arms around him to hug him. Harry rests his cheek on your head to hug you back.

“Missed you too, baby.”

“I’m glad you’re here though.”

“I’m here for you even when i’m not physically here. You know that.”

“I know. It’s nice having you here here though.”

Harry hums in response, giving you one final squeeze before deciding for the both of you that you’re late to join the kitchen.

You both leave your bathroom, Harry turning off the light.

You head to the full length mirror for one final check over your outfit, before picking up your phone and disposable camera. Harry pockets his own phone, spraying his cologne onto his neck and wrists - making him smell even more irresistible.

He stands in front of your mirror and your squeeze in front of him, holding up your phone to take a few photos.

Once you’re satisfied, you head out of your room - double checking you have your keycard - and heading to the communal kitchen at the end of corridor.

The lights are off in the kitchen, save the multi-coloured disco ball light that you’d purchased as a flat.

The room was lit in neon greens, pinks, yellows and blues. The music was on loud, playing the ‘pre’s’ playlist you’d created as a flat.

“Ayee!” Aaron shouted when you walked in with Harry.

“Damn! Look at you!” Poppy awed at your outfit, demanding you give a twirl.

“You look so good.” You exclaimed as you took in Poppy’s little black dress.

“We were worried she’s trapped you in there, bro.” Aaron and Harry exchanged a bro hug.

“Nearly. I escaped.” Harry returned the joke.

“Want a beer, man?”

“Yeah, sure.” Harry nodded and Aaron went off with Joel to grab Harry a drink. “Y/N/N, you want me to make you a drink?”

Harry had to lean down to your ear to ask you without yelling over the music.

“Yes, please.”

“Vodka cranberry?” He asked and you nodded. He kissed you on the side of the head before heading over to where Aaron and Joel were.

Farrah, Poppy and Maria instantly crowded your space.

“Y/N, I love him!”

“He is perfect, Y/N, the hell?!”

“Talk about boyfriend material.”

“Guys, stop!” You blushed, covering your face. You knew exactly what they meant though, because Harry really was perfect boyfriend material.

“No!”

“Never.”

“Y/N/N… I’m secure in labelling myself as lesbian but your boyfriend is currently making me question my sexuality.” Maria said, making you all laugh.

You watched Harry in the kitchen, politely asking Joel what he can and can’t use and where to find things. Aaron passed him a beer for himself and he stayed talking to Harry whilst he made your drink.

“If you ever break up, I’ll stop believing in love.” Poppy said, making you smile.

It was always a fear at the start of a strong relationship about breaking up, but you and Harry had overcome that fear and were confident that it would never happen to you.

Harry was confident you’d be together until you were in a nursing home.

The number of conversations you’d had about future life, including; children, house decor, living location and wedding ring ideals made you confident that you’d never need anyone but each other.

“His parents must be so attractive.” Maria sighed.

“His mum gets called a MILF quite often!” You joked.

“I bet… She single?” Maria asked, raising her eyebrow. You’d only known her for a tiny while but you’d already gathered she preferred older women.

You just laughed her off, not quite knowing whether she was being serious or not.

Harry came back with your drink just in time. You all sat down on the L shaped sofa in the small living space adjacent to the kitchen. Harry sat next to you on the edge of the sofa, allowing you to be in the group and not over inserting himself.

You watched as he took a sip of his beer as the others situated themselves around the sofa and the surrounding stools.

“You okay?” You asked him.

He smiled and nodded at you in return, making you kiss his cheek to silently let him know that that made you happy and you were really glad he was here.

“How about we play a game? Get the drinks going, yeah?” Poppy suggested, earning a round of yeses.

“Never Have I Ever?” Joel said and everybody was okay with that. It was something basic to start off the night.

As TikTok by Kesha came on you all ironed out the basic rules of you drink if you have done something, before you started.

“Never have I ever been kissed.” Farrah said, watching everyone around the table take a drink.

“We’ll find someone for you tonight, hun.” Poppy tipped her drink to Farrah.

“Or you could just kiss me?” Maria suggested, earning a blush out of Farrah. Maria smirked as she took another sip just because, but really it was to hide her own blush. It would be silly of Maria to ignore the fact that Farrah is beautiful.

“No flat-cest thank you very much.” Joel stopped that before anything could start. “Moving on… Never have I ever questioned my sexuality.”

You took a drink at that. Others did too but Joel looked surprised at you drinking and Maria was quick to question.

“Explain.”

“I went through a rough patch thinking that I was a lesbian, actually. I didn’t really feel anything for anyone I dated,” Harry’s arm snook around your waist as you were talking, rubbing small circles on the sliver of exposed skin at your waist, “Then H came along and I was definitely knew I wasn’t a lesbian. Kind of figured I might be Demi?”

“What does that mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“It kind of means that you don’t find any sexual or romantic attraction for anyone other than ‘your person’. Harry just happened to be my person.” You blushed as you answered Aaron’s question, leaning back into Harry for comfort.

“That’s so cool.”

“Yeah, like soulmate shit.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, before whispering close to your ear just for you to hear, “Soulmates.”

[snowballseal]

How they react to you having a lot of tattoos

LaDS X Reader

Anon Request: I was curious if you would be willing to write the boys reacting to a partner with a lot of tattoos? I feel like MC is pretty covered up and as someone with full sleeves and a large back piece, it’s always interesting to see how people react to seeing them.

Note: Y��all killing me with these fun requests 🥺 I love this. I only have a few minimalist tattoos, but I want MORE. Thank you for the lovely request, anon. The scenarios were fun to think of.

Word Count: who’s to say 🤷about 1000 each

---

Rafayel

The first time Rafayel sees your tattoos is when you go on a date to the beach. You’re not even thinking about it as you change in the bathroom. When you decided to become a hunter, you knew you would have to cover up your tattoos. The policy, while being outdated in your mind, isn’t all that bothersome since you prefer to wear long sleeves anyways.

So it never occurred to you that Rafayel had never seen the full expanse of the ink on your body.

Which is why, when you step out and his eyes go impossibly wide as he looks at you, mouth dropping open, you’re first and foremost confused.

“What?” 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel an inkling of insecurity curl in your chest as you look down at your two-piece. It’s nothing immodest, just a blue bikini that you thought was cute and also met your standards for support. It’s a little frilly, but a part of you thought he’d love that. 

“Do you not like it? I don’t uh, I don’t have anything else to wear…” Your voice comes out uncharacteristically meek.

That seems to snap Rafayel out of his daze. The artist shakes his head, the tips of his ears going positively red, as he still can’t rip his eyes from the lines decorating your skin. He reaches out, tracing the gentle petals of a flower on your waist.

“How come you’ve never shown me these, cutie?” He asks, voice touched with awe.

Oh. Heat creeps up your neck. So that’s what he was on about. You glance down at your body. You suppose it is a little jarring. It’s not like you’re covered head to toe, but you’re definitely a well covered canvas. Both of your arms have partial sleeves that curl up around your shoulders and continue along your collarbone. A large collection of flowers adorns the right side of your waist, traveling down your hip and turning into a pattern of vines down your leg. You have a few other ones, some silly, some heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes I forget I have them,” you admit a bit bashfully. Rafayel gives a low hum and your breath catches as his fingers continue to trace the lines on your waist, his touch warm and ticklish. “I’ve had some of them since before I started training.”

“I have to say, I’m a bit jealous that another artist has touched your body,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something low. His hand slips around your waist, drawing you closer so he can trace his lips over the intricate ink on your collar bone, ocean eyes glinting up at you with something possessive yet overflowing with adoration. “But even I have to admit this is beautiful work. Befitting my queen.”

Your cheeks go warm. As red at the tips of his ears. There’s something so reverent about his touch and it makes your heart flutter wildly, but you’re all too keenly aware that you’re still in public.

Not that it stops you from poking the fish.

“Would it make you feel better to know my newest one is for you?” You ask, reaching to touch his cheek with a teasing smile.

Rafayel’s face lights up. He draws back immediately, looking over your tattoos like an eager child until he spots the fresher ink on your left leg. You stifle a giggle as he drops to his knees, fingers curling around your ankle to pull your leg off the ground so he can get a better look. 

“Rafayel!” You bark out a laugh, balance stolen away. It forces you to lean on him just so you don’t fall over. “Geez, I could have just sat down, you know!”

“This is for me?” Rafayel, oblivious to your complaints, grazes his fingertips tenderly along your skin.

Shaking your head, you give his hair a playful fuss, “Yes, you impatient fish. It’s not done yet, but it’s about us.”

It’s the beginnings of an ocean scene. A beach circles right above your ankle, depicting the silhouettes of two younger kids, their hands clasped in a promise. As the ink continues up your leg, it transforms into what looks like a night sky, but instead it’s water, swirling lines of blue and purple, full of schooling fish, one in particular standing out, bright red among the cool tones. A familiar symbol. And on the back of your calf swims a graceful looking figure, reaching for the light, edges blurred between fish and man and water.

A lump forms in Rafayel’s throat as he touches the red fish, a familiar warmths spreading across his chest as the same symbol glows faintly. Seeing it on you fills him with an emotion he can’t quite explain.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Those ocean eyes flicker up to you. They glint like dark pearls, iridescent and beautiful, yet carry a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch.

“I do,” you answer unwaveringly.

Rafayel’s lips pull into a small smile. He never expected someone to do something like this for him. Though, of course you would. And it’s beautiful.

“It’s a stunning piece,” he murmurs eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee, right above the ink, his hair tickling your thigh, “Though I still think the canvas is the most beautiful thing of all.”

A snort escapes you and you bite your lip, heat rushing back to your cheeks, “You’re ridiculously corny, Rafayel.”

“I know.” His smile shifts into a wolfish grin as he stands up, scooping you into a hug. You squeal as he spins you around, holding on tightly despite knowing he’d never drop you. It’s only when you’re positively red that he stops, his mirthful eyes watching your face. “It’s worth it if I get to see this face. I swear, cutie, if you do more things like this, I might become unbearable.”

“You never could,” you giggle and loop your arms around his neck, “Though, I was thinking maybe next time, you could come with me?”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You want to get matching tattoos? I’ll admit, I’ve never considered it…but if it’s with you, I can’t think of anything more fitting.”

“You’ll have to design it, of course,” you hum, tone turning a little more excited, “Oh, I can’t wait! It’ll be so fun! We can do it the next time I take a break, and after swimming season, obviously.”

Leaning in, Rafayel gives you a short kiss, laughing against your lips, “Anything you want, my lady. As long as it’s with you, I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

---

Zayne

The first time Zayne sees your tattoos is when you reunite at Akso. You’re not sure how long it’s been, having only seen him every so often at Grandma Josephine’s for dinner. All you know is that he’s been busy, and is now one of the most remarkable young doctors in Linkon.

And also your new primary care physician.

“Knock knock.” 

You rasp your knuckles lightly against the door to his office, eyes lingering on the nameplate displayed prominently beside it. A strange sense of pride swells in your chest. To think, your childhood best friend would reach such heights.

“Come in,” Zayne calls, voice as aloof as ever.

You slip into his office and let the door shut behind you. The doctor sits at his desk, flicking through a file on his tablet. You hesitate on the edge of his peripherals, not sure exactly what to do or how to act. It’s been a long time since you two have been truly close, not since- But you’ve missed him.

A lot.

“My apologies, my previous surgery ran longer than expected so I am still collecting your records.” You blink, his voice drawing you back out of your thoughts. “You may take a seat if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Maybe you’re the only one who feels weird about it. He seems completely unaffected, like you’re a normal patient, ever the professional. You awkwardly drag a stool a little closer to his desk, just far enough to not seem weird and so it doesn’t feel like you’re looking over his shoulder.

After the silence goes a tick too long, you can’t help but break it, fingers fiddling nervously with your sweater, “How have you been, Doctor Zayne?”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. You haven’t changed one bit. 

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Work has become quite constant, so I’m afraid I haven’t been able to accept many of Josephine’s dinner invitations.” His eyes dart over to you briefly before focusing back on his screen. “You look like you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other.”

“I have,” you chirp, anxiety easing up a bit, “I’m really close to being finished with training and finally joining the Hunters Association. You should try to make it to dinner this week though! Grandma really misses you. She talks about you all the time.” You falter, cheeks warming a little. “...We’re all really proud of you, Zayne.”

Zayne’s fingers freeze against the tablet. An indecipherable look crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly and gives you a small smile.

“Thank you…you both have always been so kind to me,” he murmurs and finally turns to face you, “I’ll try my best to make it to dinner this week.”

Your face lights up, excitement sparking in your eyes. “Okay! I’ll let her know! She’ll probably make all your favorites. They haven’t changed, right?”

Zayne shakes his head, and you can’t help but kick your feet giddily. It’ll be nice to catch up. You have so many questions, and also so many stories to tell from your training days.

“Now that those plans are made, shall we proceed with your exam?”

“Right, right.” You almost forgot that’s what you’re here for. Nerves coming back, you shuffle on top of the stool. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, if you would remove your jacket, I’ll take your blood pressure and listen to your heart,” he instructs, voice settling back into something professional and neutral.

As Zayne turns away to fetch whatever tools he needs, you make quick work of taking your jacket off. The room is a little chillier than you expect. You wrap your arms around yourself to chase away the goosebumps that erupt across your skin. Your eyes stay glued on Zayne though, watching as he pulls a stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from one of his drawers.

“Do you usually do exams in your office?” You ask offhandedly.

“Not usually. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I don’t often conduct general exams,” he hums, cleaning off the blood pressure cuff with a sterile wipe.

“Am I special or something, then?”

“With the rarity of your protocore syndrome, I thought it would be most effective to handle your care myself, yes. Though if it makes you uncomfortable we can-”

Zayne’s words cut off as he finally looks back at you. Surprise flickers across his face.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, though you don’t know why. Is there something on your face? A stain on your tank top? You glance down, finding nothing of the sort.

“What? What is it? Do I have something on me?” Your hands flicker up to your face, but you don’t feel anything.

Zayne blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. The lightest blush warms his ears.

“My apologies. I just wasn’t aware you had so many tattoos.”

Oh. Holding out your arms, you look over the expanse of ink on your skin. You guess it’s a lot. It has taken you a few years, but you’ve effectively covered your arms and shoulders in art. Most of it is florals, with small, meaningful symbols or items hidden in the foliage. You also have a few others, though they’re covered by your clothes.

“I guess you wouldn’t have seen them,” you hum thoughtfully, “I wear a lot of long sleeves to Grandma’s dinners. And work requires us to cover them up.”

“They’re quite intricate.” He sets his tools aside, drawing his chair closer to you. His hand reaches for your arm, but pauses, his eyes darting up to yours. “May I?”

“Go for it,” you whisper, feeling a little bashful now that his attention is focused solely on you.

His fingers graze your wrist lightly, as if he’s scared to press too hard. You watch as he silently turns your arm over, taking in every minute detail of your tattoos. He lingers a little longer on the small, anatomical heart at the center of it all, surrounded by gentle jasmines. They’re incredibly well done, even he can see that, and they all look like they were done some time ago.

Something melancholic and sentimental settles in his chest.

“I remember when you were just a little girl, crying over her popsicle…You truly are all grown up now, aren’t you?” His voice is thick with something you can’t quite pinpoint, his touch turning impossibly tender as he traces the lines up your elbow.

Your heart flutters a little too wildly for your likings. “You’re all grown up too, mister chief cardiac surgeon. That’s a lot bigger than some tattoos.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, breaking his impassive facade.

“These have all healed well, though,” Zayne says, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes as that strange emotion recedes, “You must have taken good care of them, and that alone is an impressive feat for you. That’s how I know you’ve grown up.”

A mock gasp escapes you and you pull your hand away to press it against your chest. If only to break the contact so he doesn’t notice your racing pulse.

“Doctor Zayne, I am deeply offended at your insinuation,” you insist vehemently, “I am a responsible person, soon to be an amazing hunter! I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the woman who walked on a sprained ankle for a week out of pure stubbornness.”

“How was I supposed to know it was sprained?”

“I told you it was.”

---

Xavier

The first time Xavier sees your tattoos is after a mission that doesn’t go quite right. You come home with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest, and the added instructions to change the gauze once a day. Which, of course, you can’t do yourself.

“Xav?”

Xavier glances up from where he’s sitting in the sun, a book long forgotten in his lap. Those sleepy blue eyes land on you questioning. You shuffle awkwardly in the doorway, a roll of gauze in your hand.

“Would you help me real quick?” You mumble, a soft blush warming your cheeks, “I can’t uh, I can’t change them myself.”

“Of course,” he hums immediately, standing and stretching languidly, much like a cat. “I am at your service, my lady.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, shoulders sagging, which sends a twinge of pain down your arm.

It was a nasty cut. You had been so focused on fighting one wanderer that you hadn’t noticed another smaller one appearing behind you. It was your fault, and thankfully it didn’t hit anything serious, but it was in just the right place to make moving your arm difficult.

Xavier silently leads you back into the kitchen. Taking the bandages from your hand, he pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. You do so carefully, not wanting to jostle your body too much. The hunter sets the gauze aside and kneels down in front of you, his fingers finding the hem of your sweater and pausing, placid blue eyes turning up to you in question. 

Ever the gentleman.

A tiny smile pulling at your lips, you offer him a small nod. That’s all he needs to pull it off, his hands moving slowly, with the utmost care. Thankfully, the room isn’t too cold, the setting sun pouring through the window and warming the space. The fabric musses your hair as he slips it over your head, and you instinctively reach up to fix it.

Completely missing the way Xavier’s eyes go wide as he looks down at you.

There aren’t a lot of things that catch the hunter off guard. But the ink covering your skin certainly does. Even with the bandages, he can tell it’s expansive, curling around your shoulders, dipping down your upper arms, painting the entirety of your back. It’s reminiscent of Starry Night, hundreds if not thousands of strokes forming delicate lines that follow the natural curves of your body, flowing so beautifully that they practically beg his fingers to trace them.

And as always with you, Xavier has a startling lack of self-control.

You blink at the feeling of his fingers grazing your uninjured shoulder. His touch is so light, you could almost mistake it for a breath. Almost like he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, voice twinged with concern as you try and twist to look at where his touch lingers against your skin.

“Stay still,” Xavier orders gently, and you freeze, brows arching in confusion. Realizing you're panicking a little, the hunter leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, offering a soft explanation, “You never told me you have so many tattoos. I simply want to appreciate them.”

“Oh.” Your nerves fizzle out, replaced with an embarrassed tinge of excitement. So that’s what this is about. “I forgot I haven’t shown you them yet. I guess I’m so used to them that I forget they’re there, especially since I have to cover them for work.”

Xavier shifts behind you, fingers following the lines over your shoulder. They bleed into a wash of color, dark blue and purple and pink splashes across your back. A small planet of light sits between your shoulder blades, numerous stars dancing around it. His touch lingers on the planet, a flicker of light spilling from his fingers as his evol reacts unprovoked.

“What made you choose this?” He asks, voice wavering imperceptibly. 

“I’m not sure,” you hum, shrugging your good shoulder, “I’ve always liked space. My grandma used to take me to the planetarium a lot when I was young, and I used to have dreams about it, of floating between planets and exploring the stars. I always felt drawn to this one planet, it was so pretty and it looked like it was made of light, but I could never reach it…”

Philos.

Something twinges in Xavier’s chest. How strange. You don’t remember the planet, that’s for certain, yet some part of you was still connected to it. To your home. To him. All this time…

“It’s beautiful,” he all but whispers.

Heat tinges your cheeks. That’s not usually what people say. It’s not for everyone, you know that. It’s a lot of ink, but you dreamt for so long about getting it. Still, most people usually just make offhand comments, not exactly rude, but not exactly compliments either. Like, oh that must have hurt a lot. Or, you must have saved a lot of money, huh?

Never beautiful.

And yet Xavier traces your ink with what almost feels like admiration. It makes your heart flutter with an uncharacteristic shyness, shoulders jolting up to your neck.

That’s when you remember your injury.

Letting out a low hiss, you drop your shoulder quickly as pain sizzles down your arm. Both of you had practically forgotten about it, caught in the moment. Xavier’s brow furrows again, an apology floating past his lips as he draws his fingers away - much to your disappointment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, offering him a weak smile, “I just pulled it a little funny. We should probably check it, though.”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs as he reaches for the edge of your bandage.

“...Thanks, by the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for. Helping you or his sweet reaction to the art decorating your skin. Maybe both.

And Xavier must know. He leans down, lips ghosting over your shoulder is an adoring kiss.

“Of course, my star.”

---

Sylus

The first time Sylus sees your tattoos is, of course, on the night you attend the auction. There’s no hiding the ink covering your body when you’re wearing a dress, after all. If anything, though, you think they’ll help you fit in a little better in the N109 Zone.

And you love the reaction Sylus gives you when you step out into the foyer.

For the briefest moment, his eyes go wide. Shock, perhaps the rarest emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing on him, flashes behind those carmine eyes. In an instant, it disappears though, hidden with his usual cocky expression, one of his fine brow ticking up in amusement.

“I’ll admit, sweetie,” the man hums, “You’ve surprised me.”

You flash him a cat-like grin, satisfaction burning deep in your veins, and give a little theatrical spin, “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Hardly a single part of your body remains untouched by ink. Most of the designs are artistic. Flourishing lines twisting and curling around your muscles, strangely reminiscent of the form his evol takes. They form a network of delicate webs across your body, sometimes forming shapes, sometimes with words written along the fine linework. 

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Sylus can’t help but let his eyes slowly rove over your form, taking in every detail. They’re like a map, and his fingers are itching to explore every part of you, to see just how far the ink slips below the hem of the dress. A dress which he bought for you yet can’t be bothered to even notice now, not with such a dazzling sight set before him.

“Who knew the kitten would turn into a tigress at night,” he murmurs, voice going low and teasing as he slowly circles around you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Your boldness wavers. 

Sylus always seems to have that effect on you. Like a lamb straying from the herd and being found by the wolf. Prey before a predator starved, maw open and hungry, as if he could consume you whole. And all you can do is hold your ground, even if your legs shake, like that little lamb’s.

“Careful, Sylus,” you whisper, trying to appear unshaken by not following him with your eyes, despite the unease you feel not knowing exactly where he is, “This tiger has claws.”

You feel more than hear his presence come up behind you. A shiver traces down your spine when his breath skates over your ear, warm and far too intentional. In the same way, his fingers trace reverently down your arm, following the path of your ink, until they can intertwine with yours and draw your hand up to his lips.

“And that’s how I prefer you.” His voice is low, a mere rumble against your skin as he kisses your knuckles. Another shudder. “After all, it would be a shame to declaw such a beautiful creature. Even if she likes to scratch.”

God, you hate him.

You hate that it takes everything in you to rip yourself away from his enticing warmth. You hate that your heart is racing against your ribs, like it’s trying desperately to escape. And you especially hate the absolutely smug grin that plays on his lips (and the fact that you want to kiss it so badly).

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe unsteadily, putting space between the two of you.

Something dark flashes in his eyes, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie? I was merely giving you a compliment.”

“Then you give weird compliments,” you fire back, arms wrapping around yourself. “It sounds more like you’re making fun of me.”

Sylus pauses. Those ruby red eyes narrow on you thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line. A tick of silence. Then his expression smoothes into something almost soft, and he takes a few measured steps towards you. Long fingers graze your palm again. A question.

And you give in far too easily, not fighting as he intertwines your fingers once again. His other hand skirts along your exposed shoulder, following the lines of your tattoo as they fade at your neck. You’re frozen under the sudden tenderness of his touch, your pulse racing against his fingertips.

“My apologies, kitten. That wasn’t my intention,” he murmurs, eyes boring into yours with an unnerving genuineness, “I simply meant that your tattoos are...befitting of your character. You are truly…” He looks you over once more, his gaze leaving a tantalizing heat in its wake. That dangerous smile curls his lips again. “Captivating.”

You inhale shakily.

No one has said something like that to you before. Not that you can remember, at least. It would sound cheesy from someone else, but from Sylus? The intensity of his tone leaves you feeling as unsteady as your heart. Lightheaded.

All you can do is blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-ish. No smart retort or comeback. Your mouth, in fact, feels remarkably dry. It fills the man with a touch of pride, rendering you so speechless.

Not one to let you stay dumbfounded for too long, though, Sylus lets out a smooth chuckle and taps your chin, “Careful, sweetie. If you look at me like that, I might just think you’re falling for me.”

Which of course works. Because he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I am not!” You squawk, face going up in flames. “You just surprised me, that's all! I didn’t know you were capable of such niceties.”

Sylus grins, drawing away as you swat at his hand, “Then it seems that we’re even.”

You scowl at him. So not fair.

“Now, would you like to accompany me to this auction, sweetheart?” He offers his arm. You keep your pout up for only a few seconds before giving in and slipping your hand around his elbow begrudgingly. Sylus hums in amusement, leaning in to press a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. “Looking like this, you’ll have no trouble getting the results you’ve been searching for, tonight. You’ll be the perfect distraction, my dear.”

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

---

Not gonna lie, Sylus' was probably my favorite. In my head I was kind of picturing the tattoos that Anthony Padilla has (from smosh, yes, sue me), and I just think he would totally call you a tiger since he likes calling you kitten.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

I'm really feeling some angst next possibly...

[togglesbloggle]

For the Reverse Unpopular Opinion meme, Lamarckism!

(This is an excellent ask.)

Lamarck got done a bit dirty by the textbooks, as one so often is. He's billed as the guy who articulated an evolutionary theory of inherited characteristics, inevitably set up as an opponent made of straw for Darwin to knock down. The example I recall my own teachers using in grade school was the idea that a giraffe would strain to reach the highest branches of a tree, and as a result, its offspring would be born with slightly longer necks. Ha-ha-ha, isn't-that-silly, isn't natural selection so much more sensible?

But the thing is, this wasn't his idea, not even close. People have been running with ideas like that since antiquity at least. What Lamarck did was to systematize that claim, in the context of a wider and much more interesting theory.

Lamarck was born in to an era where natural philosophy was slowly giving way to Baconian science in the modern sense- that strange, eighteenth century, the one caught in an uneasy tension between Newton the alchemist and Darwin the naturalist. This is the century of Ben Franklin and his key and his kite, and the awed discovery that this "electricity" business was somehow involved in living organisms- the discovery that paved the way for Shelley's Frankenstein. This was the era when alchemy was fighting its last desperate battles with chemistry, when the division between 'organic' and 'inorganic' chemistry was fundamental- the first synthesis of organic molecules in the laboratory wouldn't occur until 1828, the year before Lamarck's death. We do not have atoms, not yet. Mendel and genetics are still more than a century away; we won't even have cells for another half-century or more.

Lamarck stepped in to that strange moment. I don't think he was a bold revolutionary, really, or had much interest in being one. He was profoundly interested in the structure and relationships between species, and when we're not using him as a punching bag in grade schools, some people manage to remember that he was a banging good taxonomist, and made real progress in the classification of invertebrates. He started life believing in the total immutability of species, but later was convinced that evolution really was occurring- not because somebody taught him in the classroom, or because it was the accepted wisdom of the time, but through deep, continued exposure to nature itself. He was convinced by the evidence of his senses.

(Mostly snails.)

His problem was complexity. When he'd been working as a botanist, he had this neat little idea to order organisms by complexity, starting with the grubbiest, saddest little seaweed or fern, up through lovely flowering plants. This was not an evolutionary theory, just an organizing structure; essentially, just a sort of museum display. But when he was asked to do the same thing with invertebrates, he realized rather quickly that this task had problems. A linear sorting from simple to complex seemed embarrassingly artificial, because it elided too many different kinds of complexity, and ignored obvious similarities and shared characteristics.

When he went back to the drawing board, he found better organizing schema; you'd recognize them today. There were hierarchies, nested identities. Simple forms with only basic, shared anatomical patterns, each functioning as a sort of superset implying more complex groups within it, defined additively by the addition of new organs or structures in the body. He'd made a taxonomic tree.

Even more shockingly, he realized something deep and true in what he was looking at: this wasn't just an abstract mapping of invertebrates to a conceptual diagram of their structures. This was a map in time. Complexities in invertebrates- in all organisms!- must have been accumulating in simpler forms, such that the most complicated organisms were also the youngest.

This is the essential revolution of Lamarckian evolution, not the inherited characteristics thing. His theory, in its full accounting, is actually quite elaborate. Summarized slightly less badly than it is in your grade school classroom (though still pretty badly, I'm by no means an expert on this stuff), it looks something like this:

As we all know, animals and plants are sometimes generated ex nihilo in different places, like maggots spontaneously appearing in middens. However, the spontaneous generation of life is much weaker than we have supposed; it can only result in the most basic, simple organisms (e.g. polyps). All the dizzying complexity we see in the world around us must have happened iteratively, in a sequence over time that operated on inheritance between one organism and its descendants.

As we all know, living things are dynamic in relation to inorganic matter, and this vital power includes an occasional tendency to gain in complexity. However, this tendency is not a spiritual or supernatural effect; it's a function of natural, material processes working over time. Probably this has something to do with fluids such as 'heat' and 'electricity' which are known to concentrate in living tissues. When features appear spontaneously in an organism, that should be understood as an intrinsic propensity of the organism itself, rather than being caused by the environment or by a divine entity. There is a specific, definite, and historically contingent pattern in which new features can appear in existing organisms.

As we all know, using different tissue groups more causes them to be expressed more in your descendants, and disuse weakens them in the same way. However, this is not a major feature in the development of new organic complexity, since it could only move 'laterally' on the complexity ladder and will never create new organs or tissue groups. At most, you might see lineages move from ape-like to human-like or vice versa, or between different types of birds or something; it's an adaptive tendency that helps organisms thrive in different environments. In species will less sophisticated neural systems, this will be even less flexible, because they can't supplement it with willpower the way that complex vertebrates can.

Lamarck isn't messing around here; this is a real, genuinely interesting model of the world. And what I think I'm prepared to argue here is that Lamarck's biggest errors aren't his. He has his own blind spots and mistakes, certainly. The focus on complexity is... fraught, at a minimum. But again and again, what really bites him in the ass is just his failure to break with his inherited assumptions enough. The parts of this that are actually Lamarckian, that is, are the ideas of Lamarck, are very clearly groping towards a recognizable kind of proto-evolutionary theory.

What makes Lamarck a punching bag in grade-school classes today is the same thing that made it interesting; it's that it was the best and most scientific explanation of biological complexity available at the time. It was the theory to beat, the one that had edged out all the other competitors and emerged as the most useful framework of the era. And precisely none of that complexity makes it in to our textbooks; they use "Lamarckianism" to refer to arguments made by freaking Aristotle, and which Lamarck himself accepted but de-emphasized as subordinate processes. What's even worse, Darwin didn't reject this mechanism either. Darwin was totally on board with the idea as a possible adaptive tendency; he just didn't particularly need it for his theory.

Lamarck had nothing. Not genetics, not chromosomes, not cells, not atomic theory. Geology was a hot new thing! Heat was a liquid! What Lamarck had was snails. And on the basis of snails, Lamarck deduced a profound theory of complexity emerging over time, of the biosphere as a(n al)chemical process rather than a divine pageant, of gradual adaptation punctuated by rapid innovation. That's incredible.

There's a lot of falsehood in the Lamarckian theory of evolution, and it never managed to entirely throw off the sloppy magical thinking of what came before. But his achievement was to approach biology and taxonomy with a profound scientific curiosity, and to improve and clarify our thinking about those subjects so dramatically that a theory of biology could finally, triumphantly, be proven wrong. Lamarck is falsifiable. That is a victory of the highest order.

[appleblueberry-pie]

I NEED MORE YANDERE e42 MILES!!!!

This is a list of things he's done without your knowledge.

"Sneaked" two thousand dollars into your savings account. Best part about this is you actually never did find out that he did this. You just thought you were finally becoming financially responsible.

Fixed your TV remote 2 times.

Bought you more boxes of ramen.

Learned to make your favorite dessert.

Drove your ex's car off of a cliff

Drove your ex's girlfriend's car off of a cliff

Got on your teacher's good side for you.

Started doing calisthenics

Became pescatarian

Stopped drinking energy drinks and instead became a tea-drinker

Donated to 5 animal shelters and volunteered to help feed the homeless(one of the short programs he joined at school)

Broke 3 ribs and repaired

Got stabbed and repaired

Illegally traded with dominating gangs in Brooklyn

Illegally helped transport medicine inside of hospitals due to dominating gangs in Brooklyn

Tried on shoes he wanted to get for you to see if they'd be comfortable, understanding that people would think he's flaming for doing so.

Tried on earrings he wanted to get for you, thinking if it looked good on him, it would definitely look good on you, understanding that people would think he's flaming for doing so.

Same thing with perfume.

Got scared of you when you interrogated him for smelling like the new perfume he just bought you.

Whispers compliments to you when you sleep on his shoulder while y'all take the train.

Screamed like a lil girl when he picked up a potted plant from a flower shop, hoping to get you a succulent, and a slug dropped from the crevice of the pottery, plopped onto his hand, heavy, cold, and slimy.

Listens to all Ariana Grande albums

Annually kidnaps all boys who he knew premeditated asking you to prom, knowing your his, and drops them off by a random lake in the dead of night. Tied up, taped mouth, lightly drugged, and confused.

Attempted to give up being tender-headed so his mama could do his hair in that cool ass pattern he knew you wouldn't be able to stop admiring. It didn't work, but the result definitely made you happy.

Bombed 2 drug major illegal drug factories. Probably one of the main reasons why the crime underworld hates him.

Sketched over 40 different ways the wedding ring he plans to give you will look.

Finished 2 big notebooks that are just full of rants and drawings of you. He's halfway through his 3rd one.

Has a pinterest board just like yours that is full of clothing and room aesthetics that you like. Plans to make most of them a reality for you.

Kicks his feet at ur messages.

[furuu]

HEAR ME OUT

Reader tries to convince Sukuna to do cute matching costumes and at first he doesn't agree and ends up saying no :(

But halloween comes and u decide to do a costume of a matching [without him bc he did not want] but when he sees how stunning reader looks h3 agrees last minute "just so you don't go alone" [he actually wanted to watch reader in that costume all night while u take pictures w kids and all] <33

𐔌 . ⋮ You had it all planned out—a costume inspired by the Heian era, elegant and haunting, reminiscent of the ancient nobility. Silk robes flowed around you in layers of crimson and deep black, each piece adorned with intricate patterns, your hair styled in elaborate coils, ornamented with delicate pins and flowers. You’d even painted your face with a pale powder, adding a touch of dark red to your lips and lining your eyes to make them bold, fierce… as if you belonged by his side, as if you were his queen from ages past.

It was the perfect idea, something that would mirror Sukuna’s origins and make you look as if you’d stepped right out of his own dark history.

But when you first suggested the matching costumes to Sukuna, he’d only sneered, crossing his arms. “You’re serious?” he asked, his tone dripping with skepticism. “Do you think I need a costume? I’m a curse already.” He’d huffed, dismissing your idea without a second thought.

So, you decided to go alone, despite the sting of his rejection. You still wore your costume with pride, though—there was no reason to give up just because Sukuna didn’t understand the appeal. Under the evening lights, you looked like something out of a Heian tale, mysterious and regal as you handed out candy to the kids who wandered by, watching their eyes widen at your otherworldly appearance.

But then, as you were setting up for the night, you felt a familiar presence behind you. Turning around, you saw Sukuna standing there, arms folded, his gaze locked onto you with an unreadable intensity. His eyes roamed over every detail of your costume, lingering on the delicate patterns, the deep red of your lips, the way you looked like you’d just stepped out of his past.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression still hard to read. “This is what you were so eager for me to match?” he asked, but there was a softness in his tone, something almost reverent.

“Well,” you replied, a bit shyly under his gaze. “I thought… it might be nice. To look like your queen, if only for tonight.”

His lips twitched in a faint smirk, his eyes narrowing slightly as he seemed to wrestle with his pride. “Fine,” he muttered, as if the words were dragged from him. “I’ll go with you. Just… so you don’t draw any more attention on your own.”

And so, with a reluctant sigh, he joined you. As you passed out candy and took photos with the neighborhood kids, Sukuna lingered close, his presence intense yet somehow protective. His gaze never left you; every time someone complimented your costume, he’d bristle slightly, a possessive glint flashing in his eyes.

He may not have agreed to matching costumes, but the way he watched you, so fixated and almost proud, said it all: Tonight, he was there, keeping you close, as if you really were his cursed queen from long ago. And as the evening wore on, he softened, even letting you take a photo or two with him—a rare, fleeting memory that you knew would be cherished long after the night was over .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

[astraystayyh]

The only exception

barista Minho x reader. strangers to lovers. slow burn. if you can, listen to The only exception by Paramore while reading :)

Minho was content with straying away as far as possible from love. That is until you stumbled into his café on a rainy night, and unwittingly, into his life.

skz song series masterlist

i.

Minho sweeps the countertop with a blue rug, wiping away the scattered droplets of spilled coffee. He grabs a pastry from the showcase- a blondie with a raspberry drizzle on top, placing it on a plate decorated with dainty flowers. And then he gives it to the middle-aged man sitting near the back of the café. 

Minho is in Aurora, completing his mid-day shift, and yet it feels as if he's only physically there. His body is moving on auto-pilot, mechanically performing the familiar tasks etched into his memory by now. And he likes it, since it drowns out the tumultuous thoughts plaguing his mind.

Minho used to look forward to the days when Marta- Aurora's exceptional baker, would prepare blondies. The alluring aroma of the freshly made pastry would waft through the café, enveloping both Minho and the customers in a soothing embrace. He enjoyed preparing the coffee and drawing different pretty patterns on top of it. He also liked the music playing, and sometimes, the manager would even let him play some of his own playlists. 

But that was before Minho got his heart broken, torn in half, carelessly, as if it didn't belong to a breathing human, but rather to an unfeeling entity. Now, his lattes are void of intricate designs, the blondies prepared by Marta remain untouched, and his mind doesn't register the music playing. 

He's just existing, in a stillness he perfectly curated. He's a placid river, undisrupted, running its usual course day after day. 

Minho watches as the man clad in a polished suit finishes his treat, before getting up and leaving Aurora with hurried steps. He eats alone now, Minho has noticed, and his ring finger is void of the gold band he used to wear.

Perhaps that's what Minho's fate would also be. Eating alone in cafés he used to bring his lover to, basking in the chatter surrounding him, in the desperate hope that it'll fill the void inside him. 

ii. 

it's a Thursday, which means Minho is working the night shift at Aurora. It's pouring rain outside, the incessant water droplets a misty veil that fogs up the café's windows. Amidst the downpour, he catches sight of a couple dashing through the rain, hands tightly clutched into one another. They're giggling, as if the rain falling isn't a nuisance, but rather an elixir heightening their love. Minho looks the other way. 

The door to Aurora is pushed open, and Minho watches as you set foot inside. You're drenched in rain, from head to toe, strands of your hair sticking to your cheek. You exhale in relief, closing your eyes for a split second as the warmth of the café surrounds you- like a childhood blanket tightly wrapped around your being. There is a hint of a smile as you walk to the counter. It only grows when your eyes set on Minho. 

"Hi!" you greet cheerfully and he simply nods in return. The weather was horrible and you were probably uncomfortable from the clothes clinging to your skin, so what were you exactly joyful about?

"Can I have hot chocolate, please? Oh, and a piece of that brownie," you point to the showcase, and he follows your line of sight. 

"Sure, anything else?" 

"No, thank you," you smile, and he nods once again. "That will be 10 dollars." 

"Here," you hand him a crumpled bill and he takes it from you carefully, ensuring your hands don't brush against one another. 

You sit down on a chair near the window, and Minho dutifully prepares your order. He brings it to you once he's done, and you grin at him once again. You smile a lot, he thinks to himself. 

Minho goes on with his tasks, cleaning the dirty cups in the sink and grounding the coffee beans. When he's done, he can't help but notice you grabbing some napkins from the table and dabbing your neck and face dry with them. He sighs to himself before retreating to the café's backroom.

"Here, to dry your hair with," he says, handing you a clean towel.

Minho leaves before you could smile at him again. 

iii. 

It's Tuesday, and Minho has just served a freshly baked cinnamon roll to Mark- the middle-aged man who just introduced himself to Minho after months of frequenting Aurora.

Minho liked having regulars in his shifts, familiar faces to look into. This was part of the reason why he picked being a barista as a part-time job- he enjoyed people-watching. Not in a noisy way; he simply liked imagining the lives of the people surrounding him. It served as a distraction from his own. 

Among the regulars was a woman in her thirties who only ordered a chaï latte with a blueberry muffin. Then there was that one student, with blonde hair and freckles dusting his cheeks. He really despised bitter coffee, always ordering his with abnormal amounts of syrup.

And now, there was you too. You've been coming to Aurora regularly for the past few weeks since your initial visit. Minho still hasn't memorized your go-to order because you don't have one. You pick a new drink each time as if you were on a mission to taste everything on the menu. 

You come here alone, occupying the same seat by the window with your chin resting on your palm. He suspects you enjoy people-watching too since you often gaze outside. You also bring books with you, reading them while sipping on your beverage. Sometimes you write too, in a tiny sage notepad. 

And you smile, god do you smile a lot. At young children passing by in the street, at an elderly couple holding hands, at the black cat that sleeps on the edge of the window. And you smile at Minho. Each time you order, each time your eyes meet his from across the café. Minho likes to believe that happiness was so deeply ingrained within you, it became the very essence of your soul- an intrinsic part of your being you could not part with.

The door to Aurora is pushed open and Minho isn't surprised to see you entering once again, your bag loosely hanging from your shoulder. 

"Hi!" you greet excitedly as you usually do, and Minho simply nods, as he usually does. 

"I'm sorry if this is a bit weird," you preface, piquing Minho's curiosity. "I'm not really craving anything today, so can you make me your favorite drink?"

"My favorite drink?" he repeats, a bit incredulously and you nod eagerly. "Yes, I drink anything and I don't have any allergies, so whatever you prepare is fine!" you smile hopefully at him.

He stays silent, mulling over your request. He goes to say no, but the smile slowly slipping from your face makes a strange pang of guilt wash over him.

"On second thought, I'll just have-"

"Okay," he interrupts, "I'll bring it to you when it's done," he quickly says and the smile etches itself on your lips once again. Minho feels an unexpected relief dawn on him at its sight.

"Thank you! I'm yn, by the way," you introduce.

"Minho," he says, although you can read it on his nametag. 

"Minho," you repeat, and he finds himself itching to hear his name dripping from your lips again.

Minho prepares you an iced americano with cold foam, and two pumps of white mocha, since you seem to enjoy drinks on the sweeter side. He watches breathlessly from the counter as you take a sip of it, closing your eyes to fully relish in its taste. Your nose scrunches up in delight before you quickly turn around to shoot him a thumbs up from afar. 

Minho nods, before turning his back to you. Unwillingly, a small smile tugs at his lips. He's glad you liked it. 

iv.

Another Thursday unfolds following its usual routine. Mark occupies his customary spot in the rear of the café, while the scent of Marta's lemon madeleines permeates the kitchen.

Except you're not smiling. 

Minho finds it odd, how there was no cheerfulness in your steps as you walked to the counter. You did not smile while ordering, and your voice carried a tinge of sadness when you thanked him.

You did not ask about his day, nor about his cats- that was also something unusual for you to do. You've asked about them each time since Minho told you about them. He didn't plan on doing so, he just saw you one day eyeing the stickers of his three cats on his phone case, while he was counting your change.

"Are they your cats?" you asked, pointing at them and he nodded, a faint smile dancing at the corners of his lips.

"They are."

"You must love them a lot. They almost managed to make you smile," you teased, grabbing the rest of the money and walking to your usual seat. 

Minho steals brief glances at you, as he prepares your matcha latte, a drink you seemed to enjoy a lot lately. You're gazing at the window almost soulfully, your back slightly hunched as if there was an invisible weight crushing you underneath it. 

Minho nibbles on his lower lip, contemplating his next move, before grabbing the frothed milk. For the first time in months, he draws a little cat on the surface of your drink, just like he used to do a long time ago.

He brings it to you, and his heart flutters nervously as you gaze down at the cup. He almost second-guesses his action, that is until you beam at him, and Aurora suddenly feels brighter than it did seconds ago. 

v. 

"When does your shift end?" you ask Minho as he sets your perfectly crafted matcha latte on the table- an order he has committed to memory by now.

"In an hour, why?" he asks curiously and you wave your hand dismissively. "Just wanted to know." 

The seconds trickle by slowly, as the hour almost comes to an end. You watch as Minho takes off his apron, running a hand through his hair. It's gotten longer now, silky bangs he tucks behind his ear to keep them from obstructing his vision.

He talks a bit to Seungmin, the other barista that works there. And then he steals a quick glance around the room, where he finds you already looking. You wave him over, and he tilts his head slightly in confusion, before walking to your table. 

"Sit down," you smile, gesturing to the chair in front of you. Minho complies silently.

"Here," you take out a container filled with brownies from your bag. "I never properly thanked you, for the towel and for the little cat you drew on my coffee last week. So, here, thank you," you beam at him while sliding the box in his direction.

"I don't- it's nothing, you didn't have to," he says, and you notice a tinge of pink blush covering the tips of his ears.

"I wanted to. I hope you'll like them, I'm not as good as your baker, but I tried," you confess, smiling sheepishly, and Minho feels a sudden urge to vehemently contradict you, to tell you that they must taste good. And even if they didn't it wouldn't matter, because you baked them for him. And that is enough. 

But he bites the inside of his cheek harshly, physically stopping this rush of words eager to escape his mouth.

"Let's eat them together, hum?" he simply suggests, opening the container and placing a brownie on your plate before taking one himself.

"Is it good?" you ask tentatively and he pretends to contemplate your question for a moment.

"They're horrible, right? I shouldn't have taken creative liberties with the recipe and-"

"Yn, I'm just kidding," he stops you, a soft smile on his face. "They're delicious, see," he says, finishing the brownie in one bite. "Really good," he compliments, reaching for another piece. 

"Okay," you smile in relief, eyes crinkling closed. The sunlight is streaming through the window, casting a golden shadow on your face. You are swaying contently in your place, as you take another bite of the brownie. And you look happy, with him. Minho thinks the brownies are the best he's ever had because he's sharing them with you. Because he got a taste of your happiness through them. 

vi. 

"Can you believe that professor? He failed half the class and he still thinks he isn't the problem." 

You are venting to Minho about your stuck-up Economics professor, while leaning against the countertop. He's listening intently to you, drinking in the details of your face as you talk to him. For some reason, he finds the smile lines on your face mesmerizing, that and the way your eyebrows move with your every word. 

These subtle details have been engraved into his memory since the day you gave him the brownies, two months ago. He has grown fond of you, sitting at your table at the end of his shift without you having to ask. You also hang out outside of Aurora, going on frequent walks and discovering new food spots. He never felt that the conversation between you two was strenuous, or forced. It flowed naturally, like a waterfall knowing exactly where it should go.

He also finds that smiling is easy with you. At your jokes, your stories, and your existence. He's lost count of the times he found himself grinning widely at your words, or smiling softly to himself at the thought of you coming to Aurora soon.

"He's too full of himself to admit he's the one who sucks at teaching," Minho comments and you clap in agreement. 

"Right! And it's so funny because..." You're still talking but your words go unheard by Minho, like a mindless buzz in the back of his mind. He's frozen in his place, his heart beating wildly in his ribcage as he notices the couple who just came in.

His ex, with the man she cheated on him with. 

"Minho? What's wrong?" you call out, snapping him out of his daze. You're eying him worriedly, and only then does he realize how tightly he's holding the countertop. 

"Nothing," he curtly replies, as he plasters a neutral expression on his face. 

He watches as his ex's eyes widen slightly when she sees him. She forgot he was working here. Of course, it'd be easy to do so since she never visited him at Aurora anyways. Despite the flood of emotions cursing through him, Minho maintains a stoic facade, taking their orders as if she's a mere stranger and not the one behind his shattered heart.

As Minho attempts to prepare their coffee, his hand trembles uncontrollably, forcing him to stop before dropping the milk.

He didn't love her anymore, he was certain of it. But still, the sight of her brought unpleasant memories back to the surface. Ones he tried so hard to bury in the back of his mind. And Aurora was his sanctuary. One, she never tainted with her presence. Has she not taken enough from him already? 

"Minho?" you call out softly, and Minho feels guilty because he left you alone with no explanation. Still, when he turns around, he can tell you aren't upset. You are worried, looking at him cautiously. 

"Is everything okay?" you ask once again, and this time Minho can't find it in him to lie to you, so he simply shakes his head no. 

"Your hand is shaking," you observe, before gently grabbing it in yours. You cover his hand with both of your palms, squeezing it lightly to steady the tremors cursing through it. 

Your hand is warm, and very soft, a stark contrast to the sharp emotions surging within him, like pine needles puncturing his heart.

"Would you like me to serve them?" you ask softly, and Minho isn't surprised you picked up on his unease. You're perceptive, it's one of the things he likes about you. 

"Please," he responds quietly. You simply smile, reaching for an apron and wrapping it around your waist. You look adorable, intertwining yourself with his world, and the sight of you eases the ache in Minho's soul.

A few minutes later, you grab the tray from his hands and walk over to their table. Minho chuckles inwardly when he notices that you didn't smile at them, serving them with a blank face, and his chest warms a little.

He has you on his side. 

Five days later, you're sitting besides Minho on a bench; watching the sun as it dips into the ocean, painting the sky in hues of orange and yellow. Yet, the dazzling colors are the last thing on Minho's mind. All he can think about is you. How you helped him with serving the rest of the drinks that day, how he taught you how to work the coffee machines- a solace from the ugly feelings that roared in him.

"Thank you," he abruptly says and you turn to look at him, perplexed.

"For what you did the other day, with the couple that came in. That was, um... my ex and the person she cheated on me with," he confesses quietly, fiddling with his earlobe. He didn't need to tell you, but he wanted to. "I've moved on, it's just... seeing her again hurt. I don't know why." 

Your eyes soften at him, not in pity, but in care. And Minho doesn't mind being vulnerable with you. It's scaring him, but he doesn't mind.

"It's normal for it hurt, it would honestly be weird if it didn't," you smile gently and he sighs in reply, running a hand through his hair. 

"I wish it didn't."

"Love is a powerful feeling, it consumes our entire beings. That's why it hurts when our hearts are toyed with. But love itself doesn't hurt, I feel like it's what makes our world move. You know, the little gestures humans do for one another, that are fueled by love. Like, um... scratching someone's back or peeling someone's fruit. You don't have to do those things, but you do. Because you love the person, and it makes your existence feel gentler, and softer on the heart." You explain, the words leaving your mouth and wrapping around Minho's soul, healing parts of him that he didn't know were bruised.

"My point is, it's normal for you to be hurt. But I hope you don't close your heart entirely to the feeling. Because we may not have grand things in our life, but if there is a hand that brushes our tears away and one that folds our laundry, then that's enough for us to lead a beautiful life."

Minho blinks repeatedly, in a desperate attempt to keep his tears at bay. He felt as if the letters you uttered unfolded and stretched in front of his eyes, morphing into a gentle hand patting his back. Yours.

You smile softly at him, the water's reflection shimmering in your eyes. And Minho thinks that he's standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to dive into the unknown- into you. 

"How do you do it?" he chuckles in disbelief, as he leans a bit closer to you. "You make me want to believe in love again," he pauses, before adding quietly, "but only if it's with you." 

You remain silent as Minho fidgets with his fingers, before tentatively grabbing your hand in his. He doesn't look at you, his gaze fixated on the way your fingers naturally intertwine with one another- as if finding each other after a lifetime of being apart.

"You know, I'd thought I'd always live like this, keeping a comfortable distance between me and people," he says, raising his head to finally meet your eyes, "and up until now I thought I was content with it, with loneliness, I mean. But... but brownies taste sweeter when I'm with you, and Aurora is brighter when you are in it, and smiling feels like second nature around you. And I don't... I don't think I can go back to being lonely again, not when I've had a taste of you in my life." 

Minho's heart is beating wildly into his chest, and he can hear the blood rushing through his ears, frantically, as if to warn him against what he's about to say. But your thumb caresses his palm reassuringly and he wants to try again. With you.

"I- I never wanted to love again, because no one, none of it was ever worth the risk, but you... You are the only exception."

Minho exhales breathlessly and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him to your chest. You hoped that your warmth would ease his nerves a bit, that your hand on his back would feel gentle on his soul. You didn't want to rush your answer, trying to think of something that will patch up the deeply carved scar in his heart, a perfectly made band-aid in the shape of syllables.

It's a foolish hope, you realize, to instantly quiet the cries of a bruised spirit. So you simply settle on saying the truth sitting on the edge of your tongue.

"It will be quite hard, and scary for you," you whisper placing a tender kiss on his shoulder blade. "But I'll help you, if you'd let me. I'll take care of your heart better than I do with my own."

vii.

"Hey, baby," you smile at Minho, slipping behind the counter to be by his side. He pulls you by your waist, kissing your cheek softly.

"I missed you," he pouts, and you giggle, playing with strands of his hair, "I missed you too."

"Do you know what day it is today?" he asks, a shy smile gracing his face.

"No...?" you trail out and he chuckles, taking your hand in his.

"Don't worry, you didn't miss my birthday. It's just... it's been a year since you first came into Aurora."

"You remember?" you ask in amazement, your heart swelling with love for the man standing before you.

"Mm, how could I forget you? Also," he sneakily points to a table near the back, "my favorite couple is back."

You turn around, a soft gasp escaping your mouth as you find Mark gently holding the hands of his date. You smile happily when you finally notice it- the wedding ring, finally back on his finger.

[cryptidclaw]

Star Firesight!

Bonus! Healer/Second Firesight:

And Outsider/Apprentice Rusty/Fire:

Design Notes:

I redesigned him again despite saying I would stop doing that... Prev design and old bio here.

He still has a lot of the same features as my previous design, i mostly just changed his pattern and coloring! I wanted him to be a rustier color!

I also changed his cheek fluff to be round, mostly just for an interesting face shape! his cheek fluff hangs a little more flat when he's older just to give him a more matured look (hes been thru some shit, his cheeks hath deflated)

Character Bio:

Star Firesight

(Fireheart/star)

Bisexual & Polyamorous; Trans Tom; he/him

Age as of 1st arc's beginning: 7 moons; 11 Hyrs

Age as of 1st arc's end: 2 cycles, 5 moons; ~26 Hyrs

Title meaning: -sight = this cat can spot things that others cannot; a cat with a close connection to the Stars; this healer receives many signs from the Stars; the healer may also be very good at spotting illnesses or injuries.

Outsider -> Healer -> Second -> Leader of Thunder Order

Mentor: Redtail (died) -> Spottedleaf

Mother: Nutmeg

Father: Jake

Sibling: Sapheart (Princess)

Half Siblings: Socks; Ruby: Tinyclaw

Mates: Sandstorm; Shriketail

Kits: Squirrelflight (sire: Sand); Leafpool (sire: Shrike); Foxleap (sire: Sand); Icecloud (sire: Shrike)

Grandkits: Star Hollyleaf; Falconstrike; Jaywing; Alderheart; Sparkfire

Other notable kin: Cloudtail (nephew); Snowshoe (nephew); Mistletoe (niece); Spiderleg (nephew); Shrew (nephew)

Notes:

Firesight has chronic pain (and mobility issues later in life):

Fire has the Scottish Fold breed's mutation which effects cartilage in the body, this causes his ears to fold, but it also causes chronic joint pain and can progress into swollen and inflexible joints.

For Fire, he is has the heterozygous version of this mutation, which means that his disability progresses more slowly, as a young cat he does experience some joint pain, with some days being worse than others. He is able to medicate with his own chronic pain herbal mix he created as a Healer. However as Fire grows older his joints will worsen, and by the time of his old age he will be unable to jump and some days is unable to walk.

He is able to still use his medication to aid him and is able to lead a happy life, but he is disabled and I didnt want to leave that out of his character! It's important to have disability rep (and spread awareness of the issues with the Scottish Fold breed) and I hope I serve him justice!

Character Summary:

In Progress (to be added later)

...

[Image 1 ID: a digital drawing of Star Firesight, an AU version of Firestar from Warrior Cats. He is standing with his left side showing and has a proud and happy expression with a smile. He is a short, chubby and round shaped rusty orange and red tabby tom with small folded ears and green eyes. his chest, underbelly and paws are all a lighter shade of orange, and he has a red stripe down his back as well as a single red swoop shaped stripe on his side. He has red to orange striping on his face and red freckles on his cheeks. His right ear is brownish-black, he also has a small black spot above his nose and a black stripe on his back. He has a white flame shaped spot on his chest, a white muzzle, white paws and a white tail tip. He wears yellow flowers and green leaves in his pelt and a simple crown rests on his forehead made up of a diamond shaped red stone and a small teardrop shaped white stone below it./End ID]

[Image 2 ID: a digital drawing of Firesight, an AU version of Fireheart from Warrior Cats. this drawing is almost the exact same as the first image, but in this he has no crown./End ID]

[Image 3 ID: a digital drawing of Fire, an AU version of Firepaw from Warrior Cats. this drawing is almost the exact same as the first image, but in this he has no crown, or flowers and leaves adorning his pelt. his face also seems younger and he has a brighter happy expression on his face with his mouth open in a smile like he is talking./End ID]

[robobarbie]

Hello hellooooooo! We recently had a banner contest in the discord server, and I wanted to show y'all the awesome entries that didn't win. They're all really cool in their own ways, so I wanted to give them each a lil moment.

(by @/jestie)

Love the focus on xyx!! He reminds me almost of what I'd think teenage him would look like. Very chill, sporty, and out with friends on a beautiful spring day. The linework in this feels really soft as well -- especially on those hat details. AND THERE'S CAT!! CAT!!!

All other submissions under the cut!

(by @/hunddenseje)

I like the details in the flowers a lot for this one. The way people draw roses and how they choose those inner patterns is always neat. And the little plants and mushrooms on his shoulders are fun!! They go well with that striped shirt pattern!!!

(by @/stintsy)

The way this artist circled the boys with that pink rosy pattern will stick in my brain for a while. It's v pretty, and it's like they opened a bush and found us in there for some reason. "Hello! Happy Spring!" Thanks boys please close it back up!!! It's my cry hour in the bush!!!!

(by @/emmascient)

This person's artstyle is so unique and full of life. The little spots of light coming through the trees just adds to whole thing, too. And I really like seeing fanart of owl with textured hair!!! Also check out xyx's fucking biceps holy fucking sh-

(by @/.mewo.)

Just a bunch of bros on their lunch break bayBEEEEEEEEEE!!! I like the detail of toast's coat tied around their waist and the fucking anti-societyboy shirt quest is wearing LMFAO. Also cat is ADORABLE in this. God. More cat art. Always need more cat art!!

(by @/c1nnadoll)

Every time nightowl is drawn in a croptop, two months is added to my life. I just know it's true. God bless that cute ass flower crown and the perfect little peace sign. Man looks so stable and happy. I hope he had a nice day after this picture!!!

(by @/fluffydeer21)

Toast and Quest look so content and cute with their flowers. And there's another neat rose with a lil interior pattern! Held, of course, by this artist's fave LI. Xyx looks pretty good with gold jewelry, I cannot lie. I have no idea why I made them green in game. LMFAO

(by @/noneivly)

I like how this feels like a painting. Like those brush strokes and even the palette choice just look like something you'd see hung on a wall? It's really cool. Also the little detail of the chibi picnic boys in the background makes me giggle. Small!!!!! So fucking small!!!

(by @/kiki_221)

The energy in this is excellent. You can almost hear them laughing together at Toast's expense (deserved I'm sure). I'd like to imagine they're all relaxing at a park after a big lunch. I hope they got to discuss all the good things that happened to them this week.

(by @/01noxxie10)

Another excellent chillin in the grass pic! Purple actually looks really good on Quest. I don't think I've ever drawn him in that color before? So this image made me think about that a LOT. Also look at fuckin chill ass xyx. Calm beautiful motherfucker. Fuck you!!! Fuck you!!!

--------------

There's two more images, but those are the discord banner winner and the one I chose for my twitter! If you want to see those excellent drawings, check out my twitter here or join the discord server here!

Thank you everyone for all the submissions! I treasure them deeply!!

[aclowntiny]

Things Ateez Do That Make Your Heart Flutter (Gender Neutral Reader)

I know Wooyoung always claims the title & all but ALL of Ateez are both cute & sexy 😤 hence This™

(I’m so excited for the comeback I mean look at MINGI WITH THE GUN look at Hongjoong hELP)

Hongjoong

♡ Always gives you his jacket when it’s cold out

♡ Runs his fingernails lightly down your back when he has an arm around you

♡ Has a habit of straightening his clothes or running a hand through his hair when you look at him, trying to look his best for you

♡ Takes off one of his rings & slides it onto your finger to compare your hand sizes

♡ Smirks when he pulls you closer into his side or on his lap, completely relishing the feeling of you being his & only his

Seonghwa

♡ Pulls you against his chest whenever you two sit together

♡ Looks at you with the biggest, shiniest doe eyes but also licks his lips before he kisses you whiplash

♡ When looking at flowers, his eyes fall from the gorgeous roses as he tells you you’re his favorite one

♡ Always holds out bites of whatever meal he's enjoying to share with you, glancing at the way your lips pass over it & the changes in your expression with a smile

♡ Whenever you go somewhere that sells &/or displays clothing, he'll point something out & tell you you'd look amazing/beautiful/ravishing in that

Yunho

♡ Extends his hand to you like you’re royalty before every time you guys dance

♡ Rests his forehead against yours after a kiss, never pulling away immediately & sometimes rubbing your noses together with a giddy smile

♡ Never forgets a single special day, even if it’s something like the anniversary of you getting your degree or something that isn’t related to him, & finds a way to celebrate with you

♡ Hugs you like he's not going to see you again almost every time, a hand running up & down your back

♡ Has a hand on your knee when you sit together, occasionally moving it up or down, tapping or drawing patterns absentmindedly on it

Yeosang

♡ Unironically does the stretch & put an arm around you thing but it’s so smooth because he literally doesn’t realize it seems like a bit, it just happens automatically like his arm is magnetized to your shoulders

♡ Sets his hands on top of yours when you aren’t using them, rubbing on your palms & squeezing little tunes into them

♡ Reaches over to gently brush hair out of your face when you're leaning down or wipe your cheek for you if you get something on it

♡ Doesn't realize how far his shirt rides up when he reaches for things on high shelves, then tilts his head & smiles in slight confusion & amusement at the way you stare

♡ Leans into you to whisper into your ear at gatherings- whether it's a joke, an observation, or something sweet or romantic he only wants you to hear, you'll hear it buzzing in your ear as you feel his breath by your neck

San

♡ Holds your face in his hands gently before kissing you, searching your eyes before your lips connect

♡ Runs a hand up & down your arm when you’re sitting together, fingers just ghosting over you

♡ Always makes his plushies kiss you, then goes in for one on the other side, calling you a cute sandwich

♡ Taking your hand & moving you with a little twirl to the inside of the road when it’s raining lest a car splash you

♡ Grabs you up into his arms suddenly when he wants attention, saying he wants to play

Mingi

♡ Will not hesitate to carry you if you get tired/hurt

♡ Takes both of your hands in his & looks into your eyes before he kisses you

♡ Falls on you laughing & turns the motion into an instinctive hug, his arms snaking around your waist or shoulders like they were meant to be there

♡ Gives you a smirk when you catch him staring, but if you do it back or get smiley he’ll blush & finally look away with a grin

♡ His hands practically climb over your lap trying to find yours, fingers blindly dancing over you in their quest to lock with yours warmly & tightly

Wooyoung

♡ Gives you a teasing wink whenever you two make eye contact

♡ Rests his hand on your thigh when you guys sit next to each other

♡ Pulls your hair back for you if it’s long enough, otherwise just runs his hands through it to push it out of your face so he can cup your cheeks

♡ Grabs your hand, pulling you outside to dance in the rain with a grin & telling you he’s always dreamed of doing this just because

♡ Straightens his shirt when you look at him, surreptitiously pulling the neckline down a bit & giving you a knowing smile

Jongho

♡ Says the most simple confidence boosters so casually, like if you say something during your insecurities about him being with someone like you, he just replies “Why, what’s wrong with you?” because he literally doesn’t see any of it

♡ Gives you the occasional surprise piggyback when he gets excited, lifting you up with a mischievous smile

♡ Always rests a hand on the small of your back when you’re walking together

♡ Tells you that no matter what, he always wants to be there to protect you

♡ Pins you against a wall in that classic leaning pose as he kisses you

[citruswriter]

Making Headcanons about the Rise Turtles as Somebody Who's Never Seen The Show

Listen With Me! ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

A/N: I've been reading a bit of fanfiction so I'm not completely clueless about their quirks and personalities but I thought I'd make this for fun til I get motivation to actually write again yk?

Raphael 🧡

First of all. This man is a cutie patootie. Like, come here. Lemme kiss yo forehead. Sweetie pie, baby, pookie. Mwah.

Now that I've gotten that outta the way, I feel like this dude has a lot of squishmellows. Especially the big ones. They're just so soft and, well, squishy.

Favorite season is summer. He likes all it gives and would kill to be able to go strawberry picking or go pick flowers in a flower field with other people without fear of being called a freak.

Speaking of which, this mans will 100% take you on picnic dates in a flower field. Fresh foods and flowers. Expect a flower crown at some point and to look at clouds.

Apparently he's a bit of a crybaby? Which like, please don't hurt him. :(( Poor sweet baby just needs love.

Please give him flowers back. He'll love you for life.

His love language is touch but he's also afraid of hurting you sometimes so instead he really enjoys quality time.

On a more obscure level, his love language is biting. Just soft little noms on your shoulders and arms. Although he will bite in other places if you give him consent.

PLEASE KISS ALL OVER HIS FACE! Just grab his face and kiss his face all over. He'll just melt, maybe gently grab your hips or wrap his arms around your waist.

Will gladly pepper you with kisses as well. Especially those feather light kisses. Face, neck, shoulders, hands, wrists. He's such a sweetie.

Loves hands on dates. So cooking, flower picking, pottery, those kinds of things. And yes he'll keep that funky looking, poor excuse of a vase you made in his room and it will proudly hold the latest flowers you've gotten for him.

Will knit you things. Complaining about needing a new sweater? Bam. Sweater made. Whine that you need more socks because you keep loosing yours? Boom. Socksies.

Knit him something back and he'll sob and thank you a million times. He loves it. Even if you're not good at knitting. It's a prized possession.

Always kissing your hands or nuzzling into your neck. He's such a touchy fellow.

Yes he's the type of guy to have you sling your legs over his lap and just massage your knees or mindlessly draw patterns on your thighs while he reads.

PARALLEL PLAY! Can and will put on some soft jazz or lofi beats and just relax in your presence while the two of you do your own things. The occasional kiss or soft talk occasionally happening.

If you sleep over, good luck getting him off of you if you wake up first.

I see him as a late morning riser. So 10AM kind of thing. Will nuzzle into you and take his time waking up as he just gently rubs your side and breaths in your scent, peppering you with good morning kisses and soft laughter.

Cooks you breakfast and prepares your morning drink. He just loves you so much and the small small smile accompanied with a sleepy kiss and "thank you, my love" makes it all worth it.

Calls you things like my sweetheart, strawberry, and flower.

"Whatever would I do without my flower?

NSFW - Obviously aged up, don't be weird 💛

Terrified to be intimate with you for a good few solid months.

He'll prolly want to have a solid conversation about what you're both into, hard limits, soft limits, stoplight system vs safe words and what to use, and the likes.

Will need some time to warm up to the idea of sex. Expect months of heated make out sessions.

Eventually things will escalate. Steamy moments now accompanied with thigh riding, praises being muttered out to you.

Eventually the two of you will get to oral moments. Please be gentle with him. He's kind of sensitive.

He'll prolly also be very gentle with you when giving head. Tell him what to do, he's so lost. Praise him when he does something you like. He'll pick up on what makes your body sing for him and keep it stuffed in his mind for later.

In the early stages of having sex, he'll be pretty gentle as the two of you explore. Lots of "am I doing this right?" and "you feel so good".

Once he becomes more confident though? Oh shits over for you. 💀 R.I.P (y/n). Sorrows and prayers. You're gonna need em baby.

He's still somewhat gentle but since he knows your limits now, he's more willing to be rough and to bully you.

Ramming into you from behind as you babble out curses, Raph just grinning down at you. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Can't talk? Cockdumb already, are we?"

Remember how I said biting was his love language? Pray because he will bring it into the bedroom.

His love bites are more little nibbles or gentle noms. But give him permission and he'll bruise you while he fucks you.

Will refuse to do it beyond gentle noms in the beginning of the relationship but once he's confident, you're getting bitten.

Bites on your neck while he growls possessively and makes you wail. Bites to your sides as he grips your soft flesh. Bites to your thighs that bruise while he bullies your insides with his cock. He loves seeing you giggle at his soft nibbles, and he also loves hearing you cry out from his bite marks.

King of aftercare, especially after rough sessions. Grabbing a towel to wipe you down, helps you to the bathroom if needed, grabs you some water with some electrolytes added to it. Soft kisses as he praises how well you did and how much he loves you and how he's so lucky to have you.

Loves flustering the shit outta you. You could be talking and he'll just gently but firmly grab your jaw, making you look up to make eye contact and go "yeah love?" or "is that so, strawberry?"

The way your brain immediately stops working as you stutter and your facial expression becomes flustered. He can't help it.

He'll pair it with a soft rumbling chuckle he knows drives you up the wall, lean in and ghost his lips over your skin, maybe lightly kiss your jaw or neck, before backing up and letting you go.

"You were saying, sweetheart?"

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Leonardo 🧡

Little shit.

That's it. That's the post.

Jk. But from what I've gathered, he's absolutely a little shit.

Pray to whatever god you believe in because this man makes it his mission to annoy the ever living fuck out of you.

He will take note of the things that genuinely trigger or piss you off though. As much as he loves teasing you, he doesn't want you snapping at him or giving him the cold shoulder.

Favorite season is spring. He enjoys seeing all the critters and plant life slowly come to life.

Oddly enough, I headcanon him as an early morning person.

As energetic as he is, he loves quiet mornings. Watching the sunrise and taking his time to maybe shower and wake up slowly.

If you wake up early with him, he might make some drinks for the two of you and take you up top to watch the sunrise with him while the two of you whisper plans for the day together.

If you wake up later in the day, he'll wake you up softly and force you to turn his direction and cuddle up to him while he peppers your head with kisses and rubs circles into your muscles as you doze back off.

Once you do wake up, he'll stop what he's doing if he's able and prepare some food for you before making his way to his bedroom in time to see you do your morning stretch.

"Morning, sleepy head. Finally decided to rise from the dead?" He'll tease, smiling when you playfully glare at him. "Awwww, mi vida. Don't pout at me. I'm only teasing. Come. I made you food".

Once you step out of the room however, his tenderness gives way to his annoying ass ego self. But you love it all the same and he knows it.

Will expect praise for the food he made you. He's such an awesome chef, obviously he deserves it.

Loves pulling pranks on you and surprising you with tickles. Have your defenses up because his innocent hug will turn into him pinning you down and tickling you.

Pouty McPoutster. Heaven forbid you have a job or your own place. The audacity you have to spend time away from him is astounding. 🙄 /silly

Loves stealing your shit and then faking innocence when you demand it back.

Spams you with a million memes a day.

His love language is touch as well, but he indulges in it much more than Raph seeing as though he's not as heavy or strong as him.

On a more obscure level, his love language is deep pressure. Loves being your weighted blanket or giving you super tight hugs. Do it back to him please, he also loves it. But be prepared to smack him because he will make an inappropriate joke.

Will fling himself at you. He doesn't care if he knocks you down to the ground and knocks the wind out of you.

Aside from the normal Spanish nicknames, he loves calling you things like his number one, sweet thing, and doll.

Wraps his arms around you and just goes "how's my number one?" or cuddles up into you and goes "wanna watch a movie, doll?"

Our loveable, adorable, asshole.

NSFW 💛

Please have a sit down conversation with him about boundaries and safe words because this man will not think about bringing it up. He just wants to jump your bones.

In the beginning of the relationship, he'll act all cocky but when it comes down to it, he'll prolly get all flustered. He'll smile through the pain though. Bless him.

Please praise this man. He'll always love praise but he especially needs it in the early stages of ya'll's sex life. He just needs to know he's doing well.

Once he's confident though, it's a whole different story.

The nervous air and anxious jitters are gone and he's so much more cocky.

Praise him and tell him how good he feels in you and he'll just pop off with something like, "bet I'm the only one that can fuck you this good, huh?"

Licking. For the love of the gods. Licking.

Up your neck, up your thighs, on your chest, on your hips. The way you shudder under him just gets him going.

He will make you beg. He's an egotistical bastard and will make you embarrass yourself by having you tell him exactly what you want from him.

Might even grab your jaw and stick his thumb into your mouth and just taunt you. "Come on, mi amor. You can do better than that. Tell Daddy what you want."

Oh yeah, that's another thing. Daddy kink. Sir kink too. Call him Daddy or say "yes sir" to him and he'll go feral. If he's not already fucking you, count the minutes because he will be soon.

Pet 👏 play. 👏 Collars, leashes, ears, tails if you let him. Let him fuck you from behind while he jerks on the leash tight enough to mildly choke you. He loves hearing you whine and struggle to breath properly.

But on the rougher side. He wants to break you. Wants to see you cry as he pumps into you and pushes you over the edge again and again and again.

Will overstimulate you if you let him. "Please Leo I can't take it anymore!" "You can and you will. You wanted me to fuck you and now we stop when I'm done, not when you are. Understand?"

Degrading and brat taming. Loves calling you his cock sleeve, his whore. Just brat and you're guaranteed to have a firm hand to your hip or neck.

"Drop the attitude before I fuck it out of you, slut".

Please wear thigh highs and a short skirt around him. He'll go crazy and bend you over the closest surface.

"Such a whore. Wearing that around me. You know how much that turns me on. I'm sure you were betting on that though, huh? Fuck your such a cumslut for Daddy".

Bad at aftercare at first. But teach him how to do it and he'll quickly master it. Soft touches as he nuzzles into your neck, kissing any bruises or spots that will inevitably bruise. The two of you help clean each other up. You'll offer to get water while he offers to start a shower for you two.

Also loves flustering you. But with nicknames. He has a few nicknames that he has that he only pulls out with the intent to fluster you.

Sparring and you have him pinned down? "Good job, pet". Your brain will short circuit and oh will you look at that? You just lost the sparring match.

Ghosts his lips over your skin until your breath heavy and clutching onto him only for him to pull back and innocently rub your waist.

"You ok, mi vida? You're breathing awfully heavy."

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Donatello (My beloved) 🧡

Tsundere to the max. Omfg. 💀

You think he hates you until one day you need help with a bug on your phone and he fixes it, no questions asked.

"Wow. I honestly thought you wouldn't help." "Why wouldn't I?" "Ion know. I thought you hated me?" "Why would I hate you? Dislike maybe, but not hate. It would be illogical to hate somebody who's done nothing to deserve it".

Ever since that day, you become more comfortable around him and he definitely notices it too.

It doesn't take you long to pick up on all the ways he says he loves you. He doesn't say it often, he shows it. To you, to his brothers, to his dad, to April.

When the two of you first started dating, his affections became more common but albeit private.

Soft head bonks, rubbing your wrist while the two of you read, a soft kiss brushed to your cheek as you get him another cup of coffee.

Before you know it, he becomes much more comfortable expressing his affections to you.

Cuddling into you as the two of you drift off to sleep, sitting in his lap as he works, slinking his arms around your waist and kissing the junction of your neck when your in the kitchen doing something.

His brothers know better than to tease. They don't gotta worry about Donnie, no they gotta worry about your ass. The death glares you send. 🤭 If looks could kill, they'd be dead. Mostly just Leo though.

He's absolutely nocturnal. This man wakes up at about 3-5PM and goes to bed at like 3 in the goddamn fucking morning.

Pray if you're a morning person. Because he does not fucking care if it's time for you to get up. You're cuddling him dammit.

It takes several minutes of gentle kisses and tender words before he finally let's you go with a whine to let you get up.

If you're nocturnal like him though, he loves it. Waking up together and having your sweet moments together.

He'll practically purr into you as you hold him close and have a soft conversation with him. He'll pepper you with kisses and gently knead your plush skin, usually your thighs or sides.

His love language is quality time mixed with parallel play. He loves doing things with you and around you.

On a more obscure level, he loves support swapping. Loves it when you pull him away from his work after he's been staring at his computer for too long (will never admit it though).

Loves pulling you from your own work to force you to stretch or get a snack with him, taking time to sort of just exist in each other's presence as the two of you force the other not to overwork and maybe exchange a soft kiss or two.

Favorite season is winter. Doesn't exactly love the season more so as he loves the things that accompany it.

Warm sweaters, hot coco, cozy nights in with blankets, Christmas. But challenge him to a snowball fight and that man is gearing up to whoop your fucking ass. Prepare to die.

He usually just calls you by your name or simple things like love, hun, or dear. But occasionally, especially in private or when he's feeling extra lovey, he'll call you things like beloved, darling, or dove. (All Donnie's call their partner dove. Fight me).

"Come on, beloved. Break time. Let's get some food, yeah?" No that was not a suggestion.

NSFW 💛

He's probably gonna be the most confident, and I mean genuinely confident, once the two of you start getting intimate.

Bitch probably has a fucking bullet point list in his head of all the things he suspects you like based off of past reactions to things he's done.

Like Raph, he'll sit you down and have a serious discussion with you on do's and don't's, safe words or light system, what aftercare should look like, etc. He doesn't want either of you to accidentally cross any boundaries.

You don't initiate. You understand that this is something that he will need to initiate.

Like Raph, it'll probably get slowly steamier the longer ya'll date. Kissing will turn into make out sessions as he desperately grips your waist. Eventually he'll be the one grabbing your hips and having you grind into him, making you whine into his mouth. Which he eats up with a smirk because let's face it, he's just as egotistical as Leo. He just hides it better.

Once he finally gains the confidence to go all out on you then, with your consent, he absolutely will.

Please expect to be broken. This man can and will push you above and beyond your limits. He loves it.

The way you cry and wail as he brings you to another orgasm that you swore up and down that you wouldn't be able to handle while he chokes you or yanks your hair.

PLEASE wear cheap mascara around him. He loves to see you cry. Loves to see the mascara become ruined on your face as it streaks down with your tears.

Will bully you. Look at me when I tell you this. I hope you enjoy being degraded

"Fuck your so wet and I've barely even touched. You're an absolute slut for me, aren't you? How pathetic. Getting so horny just from a few simple touches, hoping that I'll stuff you full and fuck you so hard that your mind breaks. Turn you into a stupid slut".

Bondage. Need I say more? This man loves tying you up with different colored ropes and making you all pretty. Loves seeing the marks they leave afterwards.

Will strap you to a fucking machine and have it fuck you agonizing slow while he masturbates until your crying and begging him to fuck you.

Be on your fucking guard because that man will punish you for anything.

You catch an attitude? He's raising his eyebrows at you before giving you a dangerous smirk. "Go ahead, darling. Keep talking shit. It'll only end badly for you".

He'll bend you over his knee and seat your ass till it's red and welted.

Donnie is a man of science. That include biology, which in turn, extends to your biology. He loves finding out just what makes your body sing for him.

He can't get enough of it. He'll do things on purpose just to see your body respond to him. Anywhere from a hitch to your breath as he grips your hips and jerks you closer to him to the way your body arches and your eyes roll back as he moves those same hips so he can fuck you at a different angle.

Get on your knees and beg. It'll give him such an ego boost. Just prattle on about how much you need him and eventually he'll lean over and grip your jaw, prolly shove his thumb in your mouth if you're lucky, and just go "well since you asked so nicely".

Such a sweetie during aftercare. This man can fuck you like he hates you and then turn right around and gently kiss your sore and bruises body. Cleaning your body off and getting you some water. Will probably do his damnedest to convince you to take a post sex shower with him.

When it comes to flustering you, he enjoys man handling you. Sure man handling you during sex is also fun, but seeing the way you get all flustered as he easily maneuvers you however way he wishes in such a simple way just makes him want to laugh.

He'll also grip you in that way that makes your head spin. Grabbing your hips? Sure. It's sweet. Grabbing your hips in a vice grip and subtly jerking your lowering body to his? Your head is spinning and you're three seconds away from begging Donnie to fuck you on the nearest surface.

He'll feign innocence though. Because, of course he will. He's a bastard. 🙄 It doesn't help that he'll subtly grind up against you and drop his tone down to growl in your ear so only you can hear.

"Whatever are you talking about, dove? I'm not doing anything. Maybe get your head out of the gutter, hm?"

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Michaelangelo 🧡

MY SWEET HUNNY SUGAR BABY PIE! I LOVE HIMS!

Anyways-

Utter sweetheart. Very affectionate, even if you two are just friends.

Will sprawl himself out on your lap. Don't you dare move him or he'll hunker down into his shell to make you feel bad at the thought of moving him.

Heaven forbid ya'll are dating though. He's 10xs more affectionate. R.I.P to you. Get ready to drown.

He loves peppering you with those feather light kisses, just like Raph. Especially your neck and shoulders.

Loves holding your hand and will randomly kiss your knuckles or pull you towards him for a kiss on the lips.

Absolute baby. Please smother him back. He'll start chirping and nuzzling into you for more.

His love language is a mixture of quality time and touch. Please snuggle with him while you watch a movie. Let him crawl up into your lap while you're on your phone.

On the more obscure side, Mikey penguin pebbles a lot. Finding small rocks or trinkets he thinks you'd like and giving them to you. If you have your own place and you display them in plain sight, he feels very proud and accomplished.

Another biter. Just goes O: 3: on your damn arms and legs. Really anywhere he can reach.

It's soft don't worry, sometimes he'll nip a bit harder if he feels like you're not paying proper attention to him but not so hard that it hurts. Just enough that it jerks your attention to him.

His favorite season is autumn. Everything is yellow and orange! Why wouldn't he love it?

Loves sneaking up top with you to play in leaves with you. Making massive piles or just throwing leaves at each other. He adores it.

He'll pick spare leaves out of your hair before cradling your face and giving you a sweet kiss.

And then, obviously, shoving more leaves in your face. >:D

Please go to a pumpkin patch with him and get an absurd amount of pumpkins to place all around the lair.

Afternoon waker. Gets up at ready at about 11AM-1PM. If you're up before him, he'll prolly text you to let you know that he's awake and demand for cuddles.

Just lay down and let him straddle you, laying on your chest as he churrs while you kiss his face and ask him how he slept. He loves it.

If you wake up around his time, he'll prolly still pull himself up on top of you. Churring and nuzzling into you until your cracking your eyes open and smiling down at him. To which he'll respond with some sleepy morning kisses.

He loves getting ready with you. Brushing teeth together and maybe even picking out your outfit, if you'll let him.

Will make slightly inappropriate jokes. 😂

"You wanna wear pants today? I think these would make your ass look great."

Throw something soft at him and he'll just raise his hands up in surrender and go "heyyyyyy" and pretend to be offended with a giggle.

He loves cooking. So be a dear and brew some fresh coffee while he cooks you both a delicious breakfast yeah?

Always minding his P's and Q's. He's such a gentleman and always so eager to help. Opening doors for you, pulling out chairs for you, getting you flowers, the works.

Get him gifts back and he'll prolly cry from pure joy. Poor baby is almost always bursting with so much emotion. He's a bigger crybaby than Raph.

Other than normal couples nicknames, he uses other nicknames like angel, sunflower, and pumpkin.

"I saw this and thought of you! I love you, pumpkin".

NSFW 💛

When the two of you first start to get intimate, he's kinda 50/50. Like, he's chill with the idea and genuinely wants to explore your body and make you feel good, like bless his heart he's so honored you trust him with your body in such a way.

But like, he's also super nervous because he doesn't want to hurt you or mess up and then you loose trust in him and never wanna touch him again and then you leave and then-

Yeah he overthinks it just a tad.

Another one where you'll need to have the boundaries talk with him because he'll just never think to bring it up.

You'll need to initiate the first few times.

Get into a steamy make out session with him and place his unsure hands somewhere on your body like your chest, your neck, your thighs, etc.

He'll start to knead the flesh and once you start responding to him he'll have a sort of "oh shit, I kinda like that, I wanna make them do it again" sort of moment.

After that he'll slowly build up more confidence. Shyly exploring your body in moderation and finding your sweet spots and finding out what makes you tick.

Heaven forbid he's taller than you. Dear Lord, prepare to get caged. He enjoys just towering over you and caging you in, watching the way your breath hitches and your chest raises in a more dramatic way.

Once he's gained more confidence, Mikey has two modes. You begging and him begging.

If it's "you begging" mode, this man will tease you all fucking day long but never give you what you want.

Finally when you break he just goes "mmmm no. :D" before telling you that if your so desperate to fuck then you can ride his cock but he's not helping you at all.

He'll smirk up at you with an egotistical grin as he watches you fuck yourself on him. And right when you're about to cum, he'll grip your hips and forcibly hold you down and ruin your orgasm.

And he does it over and over and over again. Just continuously denying you until you're just utterly broken and sobbing for release. To which he'll finally let you.

And once you've finally came. You'll do so again and again and again. What? You wanted to cum so badly. You can do it a few more times right?

Will overstimulate you. He loves seeing your eyes roll back as you try to tell him it's too much.

He'll pepper you with kisses the whole time too. Nuzzling into your hair and breathing your scent in as he rubs your clit in order to drive you over the edge again.

If he's in "him begging" mode. Say your prayers. You're gonna need them.

He's arguably worse in this state. This usually happens when he's just super horny.

He'll just start advancing on you, and if you guys are in the eyesight of others, you'll need to move him before he gets too lost in your scent.

He'll start peeling your clothes off, whining and biting at you. If he could devour you, he would.

If you go to push him off or say no, he'll ignore you (unless you say the safe word, of course).

"No, no, no. Please don't make me stop. Please? Please I need you so bad. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Please I need this. I'm so sorry. Please just let me use you. I'm so sorry, sunflower. Fuck please".

He's a menace and it's now your problem ✨thank you.✨

Of course you could never deny him. 🤭💅

He'll sling your legs over his shoulders and grip anywhere that he can, biting at the flesh on your thighs in hopes of leaving a mark.

He'll breed you over and over again while babbling about how good you feel.

Praise him and he'll go feral.

Call him a good boy, tell him how good he fucks you, tell him how full you feel, how nobody could ever make you feel as good as he does.

Boy oh boy.

Say good bye to your legs.

He'll overstimulate you in this mode, but he's much less mean.

"Please angel? Please? Just one more? For me? Please, please, please. Please, I'm so sorry. I need it. Just one more time, I promise. Need to feel you cum on my cock again. Please sunshine?"

Oral 👏 giving 👏 king. 👏 Be ready to have to push him off after spazzing out on his tongue for the 8th time. You just taste so fucking good. He can't help himself.

Afterwards, for whatever mood he's in, he'll take such good care of you. He'll clean you up and you'll shower him with affection, causing him to practically purr into your embrace as you draw him in for post sex cuddles.

As for everyday shenanigans. He's not as bad as some of the others but oh trust me, this bitch has his ways.

Usually involves obscure touches or biting. Like slipping his fingers up your skirt just little too high, kneading the flesh of your thighs or ass as you do your best to remain neutral, desperately clinging onto control as he nuzzles into your neck and groans lowly.

Or he'll bite you slowly but a bit more harshly than his simple love bites, looking at you to see your reaction and then giggling darkly when your body inevitably reacts to him in that way that he loves oh so much.

He gets a kick out of knowing that he can do such simple things to you and almost immediately make your body react to him. He loves knowing he has that much control over you. That your body just knows him and responds in kind.

Come on. Can you blame him? You're just so pathetic for him! It's soooooo cute how quickly you give into him. His pathetic, needy baby.

Catch this man gripping you at the junction of your jaw and neck, squeezing ever so slightly so your eyelids flutter before he leans down to gently kiss you, hand sliding down to squeeze your ass.

"Keep it together, lovely".

When I tell you that I genuinely didn't mean to make it this long. 😭😭😭 But anyways! Tell me what ya'll think plsssssss. Even if it doesn't match up to the boys real well, I'm still pretty proud of it. >:3

[littlemoondarlingarts]

Did an artstyle study of the gorgeous art of @iliothermia and I genuinely learned alot so I'm very thankful that he gave me permission to do this 🙏🏻🙏🏻

As usual, rambles and process pics under the cut, be warned that I talk alot because this drawing was a true labor of love both for his art and Rouge

I wanted to use elements from his art but at the same time i know how deeply personal his art is to his own life and struggles and culture so i tried to be as respectful as possible (and if I failed at that please tell me I have no problem in deleting this) and tried to minimize my use of direct elements from his art to keep it to the skull which was heavily inspired by a drawing he has done, the waves which are such a beautiful staple of his art that I just couldn't not put it and the use of candles and small floral patterns and the style of the mold, but I tried to keep the rest to things that are symbolic to the character.

While he may have restraint to not explain everything, I'm not famous for that lol, so I will be explaining the symbolism behind my choices.

Part 1: the symbolism:

The red rose is Rouge's flower and it is heavily associated with him. The meaning of it being romantic desire and passion mixed with the thorns of it perfectly sum up his position as a beautiful black widow.

Voyeurism is a big part of this drawing and it is first noticed with the eyes motif on the roses' leaves, this symbolises his response to his trauma which left him feeling like an unwanted pervert on his own self. I can talk about this aspect of his story for hours but I'll spare you lol.

The X-ray cutouts are his complicated relationship with his own body and death, it is a thing that is constantly on his mind as he suffers from suicidal thoughts but at the same time he is always running away from it in fear, but he knows that eventually, he will have to stop running.

The candles melting represent him being only wanted when he is useful, when he is giving parts of himself up for others to use and abuse, when he is lighting their lives by slowly draining his own.

The piano is one of the rare things that bring him happiness and peace, but he needs to be heavily dissociated to be able to enjoy it which is represented by the hands being disconnected from the rest of the drawing and just floating in their own reality.

The snake represents two things, one is him being venomous to those around him, the mistakes he's made, the promises he's broken, the pain he's caused etc. But it also represents those who slowly wrap themselves around him in a warm embrace, presenting themselves as a saviour in his most dire times only to end up being the ones who will hurt him the most.

The book is about his obsession with keeping track of everything and of studying people, accidentally turning himself into an unwanted voyeur on their lives to the point where he has written the life stories of many people who would never want to be remembered through his eyes in his little books.

The butterflies are him, both in the way they are seen as "the good insects" and the beautiful delicate ones despite the fact that they eat flesh sometimes, it is also related to the way his simple presence for a few minutes in someone's life can create a whirlwind of change that will leave it unrecognizable, or he can simply be another body in their bed.

The hair turning into waves is meant to reflect the way he is always drowning in his own thoughts, a hand crafted constant state of misery.

The beta fish are some of the most beautiful and colourful fish out there, yet they are seen as cheap and easy first pets, leading to them being neglected and given environments that are too small and crammed, making their beautifully slow death the only thing they can offer to their owner. I don't think I need to explain more..

The skull is probably someone he's loved, or someone he's killed, or both.

The heart is his, it is rotten and covered in mold, any love he offers is tainted by his inability to heal and it is spreading to infect every aspect of his life.

Part 2: the inspirations:

The roses are a homage to the way Rachamim always places flowers in his art, either in the background or as a focal point of the illustration, most of the flowers he uses are cultural in nature, so I opted to not reuse any of them and changed it to a flower related to my oc.

Eyes are a repeated theme in his art, whether it be angel eyes, the evil eye or anything else, and as you can tell both of these are cultural and religious and while the evil eye exists in my culture, it does not in my oc's so I didn't use it. Instead I opted to pay homage to one of his beautiful merman drawings in which he used the plants to make an eye-like shape that stares at the viewer.

I thought I was being real smart in turning the hair into waves but yesterday I saw an illustration where he did the same so rip to me thinking i was being original lol.

The snake and butterflies are my way of replicating his use of animals while trying to not directly copy any animals that have a connection to himself or his culture/religion.

The beta fish is just to reference the ever present fishies in his art. I know he uses them because they represent friendship for him and they are the only animals safe from the evil eye (thanks for the fun fact) so I uh... I don't really know if this was disrespectful or not to be honest but I tried to use a different type of fish, idk this might still be slightly problematic and again I'm always ready to delete this if it makes anyone uncomfortable.

The waves are a direct copy of how he draws the gorgeous waves in his art, another case of something I fear may be crossing the line because the waves are drawn in the style of cultural jewelry 😭

The tiny flowers are an obvious reference to his own tiny flowers that decorate his art and characters.

The skull with the candles is heavily inspired by a specific drawing of his.

The cutouts are my way of paying my respects to my absolute favourite piece of art he's done without directly copying its concept because as far as I can tell, it is a very personal and emotional piece.

The mold style is a reference to his mold man (I forgot his name I'm sorry).

And the candles are another repeated motif in his art as well as the pillars and the pant style.

And ouf I sure do talk alot don't I? I just really love the amount of things I was able to cram into this piece and I haven't even mentioned everything😭😭 I will NOT be doing this again because I'm simply not as patient as he is and as proud as I am of the result, this was torture. I hope I didn't disrespect him, his art or his culture and I genuinely tried my best to be as respectful as possible but I might have some blind spots due to our experiences being so vastly different so again, please don't hesitate to inform me if you want this deleted!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Autumn Daze

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: you and Bucky go on a double date.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

After the trainwreck of your efforts, you’re deflated. You can say you’re disappointed that it didn’t work out, but more so, you’re just disappointed in Bucky. The more you think about his behaviour that night, the worse you feel. 

And not just let down. You a bit miffed by it all. He even asked what was wrong after? All after he treated the whole thing like you were forcing him to go to the dentist. You didn’t bring Sam to upset him, you thought it would be good to show support for Bucky, to get him back out here.  

Well, now you get it, he doesn’t want that. And that’s okay. But he could have said so earlier. He didn’t need to embarrass you. 

Then your guilt overwhelms everything else. Maybe you just didn’t listen. Maybe you’re a bad friend. It’s all cloudy and confusing. 

So, you let his messages go unread. You’re not ready to talk. You need to sort this all out. You need to sort yourself out. The nagging insecurity rears its hideous head; you don’t deserve a friend like Bucky.  

He's too cool for you. You’re too lame. He can go out and do anything he wants. He saves the world for a living and you dress up like movie characters and serve meatloaf. How the heck did he even stick around this long? 

That must be it. Bucky doesn’t trust your taste. Charlize might be charming and sleek, but if she’s your friend, she can’t be on his level. 

No, no, no. You’re spiraling. Why? He didn’t say any of that. You’re making it up. 

You shake off the doubt as best you can and finish swiffering the kitchen tile. It’s not much. About three feet of floorspace between the two parallel counters. The apartment is so small, it doesn’t take very long to do the floors, and yet, it’s always cluttered because it can’t fit all your stupid stuffies and collectibles. 

Grow up. That’s what you should do. 

The buzzer curtails another plummet into self-pity. You huff. If it’s that guy asking for whoever Gerald is again, you’re going to lost it. You tap the button. 

“’Lo?” You grip the handle of the swiffer. 

“Dreamy? Hey. You’re home,” Bucky’s grizzly timbre sounds crackly through the aged speaker. You let go of the button and sigh again. You press down. 

“Hi, what’s going on?” You ask. 

He snorts, “Dreamy? Nothing. Just... I wanted to ask you something. You haven’t been answering so I got worried.” 

“Oh, right,” you utter dully. “I’ve been cleaning.” 

“All week?” He challenges. 

“Work,” you say flatly. 

“Right, makes sense,” he says. “Well... can I come up? I got something real important to ask you.” 

You hesitate. You’re not really in the mind or condition to receive him. You have a scarf over your hair and a loose Tazmanian Devil shirt hanging off of you, matched by a pair of leggings patterned with groovy flowers. You look like a thrift store sneezed. 

“Okay.”  

You push the other button to let him in. You know you should draw firmer lines but there’s no good reason to ghost him. You don’t really want to lose him as a friend. It’s just you getting in your head. 

You unlock the door and switch the swiffer for the broom. As you sweep up the dust, the door opens. You go to your phone and turn down the music playing on your small pink speaker. You glance over at Bucky as he stands on the mop and wears an amused expression. 

“You look...” 

“Don’t. I’m cleaning,” you pout. You tilt your head at the orange shape under his arm. And the rest of him. 

Under his leather jacket, there’s a hint of orange and black. He’s wearing a very fuzzy looking sweater. That’s not really his style. On top of that, he has a coffee cup in hand. He hates those fancy shmancy places. 

“So, I guess you weren’t just in the area,” you still the broom completely. 

“Well, I thought you might be interested in a little road trip.” He frees the orange ball from under his arm and presents the stuffed pumpkin with the goofy smiley face and arms and legs. “There’s a pumpkin patch about an hour out.” 

“A pumpkin patch?” Your lips slant. 

“And I stayed on theme. Pumpkin vanilla latte,” he wiggles the cup slightly. 

“You’re bribing me?” 

“Is it a bribe when I know you want to go?” He jibes. 

You look between the pumpkin and the cup. He’s really playing with you. Are you so weak? 

“Alright, but I need to get changed,” you say. You lean the broom in the corner and cross to him. He holds out the stuffy. “I’m going to call him...” you hum and think, “Pumple Stilskin.” 

“Oh god, you’re so weird,” he says. 

“And yet here you are,” you stick your tongue out. 

Your chest knots but you feel a bit better than before. It’s good. It’s not as bad as you think, yet you can’t be entirely excited. There’s something else. Something that isn’t just you. 

“I’m going to go find him somewhere to live and oh! I have the perfect outfit for today!” You spin and rush away. 

You disappear into the bedroom and place Pumple with Mewchanan. You turn and slide open your closet, the door rattling on the wheels. Hmmmmmm. Ah. Yes, you still have it.  

You pick out the browny orange overall dress and the cute pumpkin blouse. You love it! 

You scramble to get it all on then come out to wrestle with your face and hair. Oof, you are a mess but you have the cutest beret you can hide under. Content, you come out to find Bucky staring at the little collection of rubber ducks painted to look like a black cat, a witch and a skeleton. 

“Pumpkin vanilla?” You near him. He steps back and offers the cup, “thanks,” you say as you take it. You taste it as you feel him watching you. You flick your eyes up and shrug, “what?” 

“Nothing. Ready to go?” He asks. 

“Just need my boots and coat,” you grin. “How’d you even think this up?” 

“I love autumn,” he says. 

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. 

“I’m serious. It reminds me of when I was a kid... as long ago as that was. Thanks, you don’t need to mention,” he adds. 

You chuckle and grab your boots, “wasn’t gonna,” you chirp back.  

It’s weird, thing seem normal but that tension is like a shadow over you. You let it fade to the edges. You don’t want to ruin the day. He did all this and you just want to enjoy it. Everything else can wait.