#i tried out a new painting process here and LOVED IT even though it was a struggle

[splendidcyan]

HAPPY BAD BATCH SEASON 2 EVE !!!!! heres this toothpick, i hope he comes home (AND ALSO THAT WE GET A SEASON 3 PLZ....) original and albino versions bc some people redesign him w albinism and i think its neat!!!!!!

[leonw4nter]

And When The Sun Left, I Thought You Never Loved Me

RE4R!Leon x F!Reader royal AU

You yawn and feel the exhaustion take over your senses and weigh down your lids yet sleep does not claim you; you consumed three thick books, all three stacked on your bedside vanity but you find yourself unable to sleep, for some odd reason. Warm milk with honey, sniffing peppermint oils, and an opened window to let the cold evening gale circulate in your room– you’ve tried it but you still continue to lay awake and irritated in your bed, turning over to lie on your stomach to groan into your silk pillowcase. You’re sure that the sun will rise from the sea again in a few hours, the tweeting of birds rending you that the night is over and you’ve lost the chance to rest for the day ahead will be busy, overseeing wedding preparations with your betrothed, Leon. Only having migrated to his palace a week ago, you were still in the process of familiarization with the ins and outs of his grand residence. You assumed that sleeping in a new environment, one wildly different from your manor, affected your sleeping habit.

One of your nurse-maids has also informed you that being far from your husband-to-be, especially in the evenings, could be one of the sources of your troubles with sleeping. Though he is to be your husband in a matter of days, you are not very familiar with him and the same goes for him; you two have only met a month ago, over a talk of paintings and music. You must admit, he seems to be genuine of heart and truly kind to any person he meets but you know that this could change as soon as he marries you and is expected to give the kingdom heirs. You wince at the thought of heirs, unprepared for such an undertaking despite the public’s expectations, especially the families joined by your union. At first, you were hesitant and against whoever your parents paired you with but after getting along and taking a liking to the crown prince of the kingdom, you are now only half hesitant to this marriage.

Turning to your side with your eyes trained on your curtains gently swaying along to the cold breeze, you wonder if Leon is also struggling to fall asleep right this moment or if his own nurse-maids have given him remedies to induce a deep and restful sleep. What do they give him? Warmed milk or cold milk? With or without honey? Does he even need these in order to fall asleep? Since Leon is often busy with building strength and engaging in his studies in his palace’s own library, you figure that each day for him must be eventful if slumber claims him so easily. The more you ponder about his sleep habit and regiment, the more you grow envious of him right now; you itch to get up, depart your chambers, and head to him, maybe even fall asleep tucked away safely into his side– if he loves you back and is willing to breach the conduct between betrothed pairs– to sleep in separate chambers until the night of their wedding. As soon as the idea is entertained, the harder it is to ignore its appeal to your current state. You sit up and shake your head, trying to clear your mind of any thought that involves you walking down unlit and unfamiliar halls, looking for the door of the crown prince’s royal chambers. Even if you are familiar with the maze-like residence, you doubt that you can get through his doors that are guarded by elite-ranking knights. Sighing, you accept that you will hear birds soon and will appear before your family and his with dark bags beneath your eyes.

“Ah, yes. I struggle with sleep,” you suddenly recall him telling you quite some time ago. “The images of battle, the smell of rust and blood harass me just as I slip into slumber. It… it haunts me.” You sit up, pity settling deep in your bones; you have experienced losing sleep due to nightmares every once in a while yet here he is, plagued and haunted by the monsters of his past and present every night. The bags underneath his eyes suddenly make sense, along with his frequently chapped lips and his exhausted aura. Not even the most calming and fragrant oils could help him, for those only served as temporary relief for the troubled young prince. Determined to go to him, more for his sake than your own this time, you grab your maroon cloak, and quietly leave your bedchambers. A few steps down the hall, a considerable distance from your door, you regret not bringing along a lantern with you. Despite the silver gleam of the moonlight, this would be little help to a place as foreign as this. Far from your door and forcing yourself to be familiar with what will soon be your residence, you continue on in the dark with a hand around the walls as you tread along, feet gently padding along the carpet.

“Floors are equal to rank,” you mumble to yourself. “The king and queen are on the uppermost floor, crown prince on the level beneath theirs. I’m on the lower levels, which means I will climb a staircase… twice or thrice.”

You’re not sure where you are or where the staircase is. You’re certain that there is a painting hung by the stairs but as you continue walking, you’re certain your memory may be playing tricks on you. To make matters worse, you’re growing increasingly afraid as you head to his chambers alone in the dark. The eyes of the portraits of past royals feel as if they are moving and staring at the back of your head, ready to pounce from the gold frame and maul you. Doing the sign of the cross and mumbling a proactive prayer for yourself, you dash down the hall and turn to the first hallway extension you see. You keep a hand firmly fastened around your mouth, mentally reminding yourself to keep yourself silent. So much for staying silent when you bump your elbow against the wall, startling yourself, and tripping over your own feet and landing harshly on your side with a thud. You are not in pain, not yet at least, because your attention is turned to the stretch of the hallway behind you and the dead-end in front of you. You focus on leveling your breathing and trying to limit the noise you’ve been making since earlier, the thudding and the yelp you forgot to conceal. The dead-end in front of you appears to melt and disintegrate, the walls opening up but you look up and realize that it’s not a dead-end; it’s a door.

“Who dares to interrupt the crown prince’s slumber.” A gravelly, baritone voice demands. You gasp, looking up at the man in front of you. Leon. Your eyes widen, breath hitched in your throat.

“My prince!” You whisper with urgency, adjusting your position to be kneeling in front of him, forehead to the ground with your hands laying flat beside your head. “I- I apologize. Disrupting and causing a ruckus was far from my intentions!”

Leon crouches and tips your chin up politely, blue eyes inspecting your blushing and reddened face. “You look troubled. What bothers you?”

“I ran here, my liege. I am unfamiliar with the palace and bumped my elbow, which startled me. I apologize and ask for your forgiveness, my prince.”

“You did not exactly answer my question, my princess.” He says, helping you stand up. He lays his hands on your shoulders, looking you over before he gently takes your forearm and inspects your elbow. A slight redness right where the anterior band should be.

You mentally berate yourself for not giving him an answer, wishing that you hit your head instead and fell concussed so that you didn’t have to deal with this situation.

“Ah, my deepest apologies once again.” You keep apologizing, you look like a hooligan! “I came here to see you, sire. I…” I wanted to see if you were kind enough to let me into your bedchambers and perhaps let me lay by your side to fall asleep! “I… was wondering if you were sleeping soundly. I t-thought about you, my prince.”

He hums, gently setting your arm back to your side. You take a swift moment to observe him– he still had bags beneath his eyes and his lips were cracked as ever, his skin paler than usual, and droopy lids. Tufts of wheat-colored hair stood at odd angles at the back of his head, a telltale sign of him tossing and turning in his bed for only god knows how long.

“Are you being honest, my princess?” He asks. “You thought about me?”

“Yes, my liege.” you respond, dipping your head in a shallow bow. “I found trouble with falling asleep and you came to mind and I wondered if you were also having trouble falling asleep.”

“I am.” He curtly says. “I am and have been finding trouble sleeping. I… I find it warming that you would think about my well-being.”

“You, my prince, are human just like the rest of us. The worst spares no one,” you respond with a soft smile. “Would you like me to accompany you until you fall asleep?”

A look of surprise crosses his face and you wish you never offered that in the first place, appearing desperate in front of the man you must impress.

“Yes,” he quietly says as he opens his door wider for you. “I would love that.”

It’s your turn to be surprised yet you nod and cross the threshold of his chambers for the first time; the walls were covered in gray wallpaper, meticulously embossed with dainty damask patterns in gold leaf. The ceiling was painted with a mural of a soft sky with hues of some pink and light blue along with clouds of different appearances, some looked like cotton while others looked like feathers. The baseboards and crown molding of his room were all sculpted and painted gold as well, similar to his bed frame with an impressive canopy that loomed over. His sheets were made of dark gray silk with subtle damask embroidery, as well. A magnificent chandelier crafted in the form of a chimera hung overhead, decorated with diamonds and sapphires. His room is just as breathtaking as he is, his space a reflection of his personality. You let go of a breath you didn’t know you held, head craned towards the heavens to admire the artwork above you. If you thought your room was grand, his was even more so.

“I see that you seem to like the mural on my ceiling,” he observes.

“Yes, I do. It is quite the beauty,” you softly smile. “I did not expect you to have such a treasure like this confined in your quarters, my prince.”

He grins, walking behind you as he observes your impressed face. When visitors take a peek into his room, the sole thing they would consider as a treasure is his chandelier. He expected you to do the same but instead opted for the soft pink and light blue view suspended above your head.

“I am glad to know that you still recognize the colors despite a tiny sliver of the moon beaming in. Consider me impressed.”

You grin, giving yourself a small pat to the shoulder when Leon isn’t looking your way. “So, my princess, shall we retire for the evening?”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

You and Leon lay on opposite sides of the bed, both of you sleeping on your backs. His eyes are shut, brows furrowed while you try not to fall asleep just yet, keeping your gaze trained on the canopy above. Every now and then, you tilt your head to steal glances and take in the finer details of his face– the slope of his nose, the permanent furrow of his eyebrows, and his long lashes. Before you can help it, a giddy smile manifests itself in your lips the longer you stare at him.

“You are staring at me, dear princess.”

Your eyes widen, snapping your head to face the opposite side as you shut your eyes and tense your body. Your ears pick up a heavenly sound, his laugh, beside you and you turn to face him, confused. “What amuses you, prince?”

“What amuses me,” he faces you. “Is how I am utterly wrapped around your delicate finger, my dearest princess. You have me wrapped around the same delicate finger you used to carefully take apart the walls I built around my heart yet I do not wish to take action against that.”

Your cheeks burn beet red, heart challenging even the fastest racehorses that Leon’s father owns. You nod, a silent acknowledgement of his flattery for you cannot properly conjure the words to say to react to that.

“It makes me nervous that our wedding is to take place soon,” you speak up. “I am not sure if I will be the princess the people will need, if I can serve you properly. There are certain things that I am not ready for.”

You feel Leon’s finger experimentally brush against your knuckle underneath the duvet, careful so as not to cross a boundary that you’re not ready for yet. Returning the same gentle brush of a finger, you slowly link fingers with him as your heart explodes in the most vibrant colors inside your ribcage.

“I am certain that you will treat the people with utmost respect and kindness, my princess, worry not. As for serving me, your presence alone is a service beyond measure. I do not ask for more.”

You giggle, a melody Leon looks forward to hearing.

“Thank you. How about you, my prince? Are you nervous?”

“Very much so, we both have a lot to bear on our shoulders with this union. I must admit, that is one of the few reasons I have been lying wide awake almost each night. I am sorry that even you are disturbed.”

“No, my prince. I am not disturbed at all– far from it, actually.”

“We tend to apologize frequently,” Leon observes. “Another thing we share in common.”

“We’ll add another trait that we share in common soon,” you beam.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Our surnames. We will share them soon.”

Leon’s eyes widen, warmth travelling from his cheeks towards the tips of his ears. He quickly tilts his head to the side, away from your eyes, and lets out a wide grin. He must admit, you got him there.

“As anxious as I am, a part of me cannot wait.”

“I believe we share the same sentiment.”

Slowly and carefully, you tilt your body and inch a little closer to Leon. His positive reception to your presence is taking a toll on you, glowing with confidence and that confidence leads you to be a little more forward with your actions.

“A little closer, dearest.” He says, moving a little closer to you. “You are not quite near enough, in my opinion.”

After a little more shuffling and getting cozy, you two finally settle into a position that is comfortable and fall asleep together with his arm wrapped around you and your arm slung around his chest.

NOTE - I feel so old rn coz yesterday, only my right knee was the one hurting... now it's both knees + my back 💀 Joints cracking at every movement too so now I've been drinking milk... why? I think my bones need the extra calcium <3 Anyways, sorry yall for this mid ass fic 😭 My brain stopped working mid-writing but for some reason I was still determined to finish this so.... yeah :') I decided to do some cleaning before posting this and I came across a bunch of old school records from when I was younger (think 6th grade and lower) and bruhh... I WAS SO STUPID?!?!?! LIKE I STRUGGLED WITH SPELLING AND IDIOMS?? HUH???? I NEVER KNEW THAT??? I always thought I understood idioms well so ion know what the fuck happened... like I looked at schoolwork that involved idioms and I did get good scores, perfect even, but for some reason the comments on my OLSAT performance then said that I was below average when it came to spelling and idiomatic expression understanding so 😭😭😭 No clue mates.......... Anyways, that's all and thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!! I <3333 UUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The hanging jewels divider was made by @mikeykuns , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

My Fair Lady's Maid (Regency!Aemond x Lady's Maid!Reader)

Part 1: Loverly

Frustrated with his grandsire's tedious and thorough process of choosing him a "suitable" bride, Aemond makes a declaration that a lady's maid could be indistinguishable from a true noblewoman so long as she was sufficiently dressed and educated in embroidery, conversation, and the like. Otto takes this as a challenge, and gives Aemond four months to turn one of Helaena's lady's maids into a noblewoman.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Aemond is just a bitch ass rude motherfucker

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: Enjoy happiness! Or at least more than you'd get with WIB...

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Loverly

“Now, what are you doing here, Miss Doolittle?” Mrs. Cunningham asked from behind a wall of flowers – peonies and daisies, roses and hydrangeas, violets and lilies. “I thought you’d be well on your way to Kingswood by now.”

“And miss me last market day? Never!”

There was very little in the world that was more exciting to Miss Doolittle than market day in Rosby. For others, almost anything else was more exciting, but not to her. For a few hours once a week, the sleepy town of only a few dozen people that made up her entire world grew into a bustling city. New people, new gossip, new trinkets and doodads from all over the countryside for her to gawk at.

It was better than a circus.

At least, she imagined it to be. She’d never been to a circus.

“Can’t hurt to earn a few coins more before I leave, can it?” she asked as she stooped to the ground and began picking through the smaller stems that had fallen on the journey between Mrs. Cunningham’s wagon and her brightly painted stall. Those that were still mostly passable found their way into a threadbare basket.

Market day was when she made her living, even if it was just enough to pay the rent on her tiny basement apartment and cover her tab at the local pub. Though sometimes, she made enough to share with those even less fortunate than her.

“And what would you be spending it on, dear?” Mrs. Cunningham asked, not so slyly dropping a few of the finer blooms. She was a kind woman, a florist from King’s Landing. She had a shop in the city where she sold her flowers and bouquets most of the week, but she came to Rosby each Saturday. Most of the rich people in the county lived in the city, but there were several manors further out in the countryside that needed their flowers, too.

Fancy folk loved fresh flowers. Even the ones who weren’t actually rich enough to be fancy, but tried to pretend like they were, would pay for a flower just to show that they had the money to spend on something that’d be dead in a day or two.

She was only nine years old when Mrs. Cunningham gifted her an old wicker basket and began letting her take the flowers that were too small, slightly crushed, or not quite the right color to use in her bouquets that would otherwise be discarded. Then, she’d flit around the marketplace, selling them for a penny each.

If she had a good day, she’d make enough to pay her expenses and buy herself a sweet or two after her evening meal. If she had a bad day… she’d find a way to make do.

It wasn’t charity, like her father used to say before he drank himself to death. She worked for it, and that meant she earned it—every penny. Mrs. Cunningham always told her so, too. The old woman was very proud of her little protégé, in fact. So proud that she’d begun making inquiries about other jobs for the girl – real jobs.

Miss Doolittle shrugged, “Oh, this ‘n that. Fare for the journey ‘n such.”

“Your new employers are making you pay for your own journey?” Mrs. Cunningham asked with a raised brow as she wrapped a satin ribbon around a bouquet of pale yellow lilies. “I thought they were sending one of their own to fetch you in the morning.”

She would know. A fortnight ago, it was Mrs. Cunningham herself who found Miss Doolittle a new opportunity: a position as a lady’s maid for the eccentric daughter of a duke. The poor lady was so odd she’d frightened away nearly every other employable girl in the county, so her butler had no qualms about hiring someone with so little experience as long as she had at least one decent reference.

So tomorrow, Miss Doolittle would leave her basement behind and travel deeper into the forests of County Westeros to Kingswood Manor, where she would begin to look after the eccentric Lady Helaena Targaryen, son of the late Duke Viserys Targaryen. With the wage they’d promised, she didn’t need to be selling flowers today.

“Thought I might should get some new shoes or… ribbons for my hair?” She shrugged. Perhaps she could even make enough to buy something nice to put in her room in the Manor’s servant’s quarters. She’d always wanted her very own clock.

“Gotta pay off some folk, too,” she sighed. The basket was nearly full now, but she wanted to try to nab a few of those pink roses – they were always popular. “Don’t want to have to send my wages all the way back here.”

Mrs. Cunningham dropped a bundle of nearly perfect rosebuds in the basket, then drew the girl’s gaze back to her face. “Buy yourself something nice, dear. You deserve it.”

Tears began to spring to her eyes, and she looked away to avoid meeting Mrs. Cunningham’s kind gaze – she’d only cry harder if she did. “Thank you. For everything. I –”

Her ramblings of gratitude were cut off when the florist took the girl into her arms, squeezing tight enough to choke her. “Just make the best of it, dear. Work hard, like you always have. And never stop coming to see me, promise?”

Finally, she hugged Mrs. Cunningham back. “I promise.”

The best customers were always near the dressmakers and textile sellers, young women who couldn’t resist the perfect flower to match their new frock. It was on the other side of town, but if Miss Doolittle wanted to afford a clock, that’s where she needed to go first.

She had taken only a single step into the street when someone large and firm collided with her, knocking her to the ground in an instant.

“AAAAOOWWWW!”

Her knees pounded with pain, the edges of her vision pulsing black, but she pulled herself up to her elbows, focusing only on what was directly in front of her.

The flowers were scattered across the cobblestones, half already trampled on by people scrambling to avoid falling with her. Those had been the best blossoms, the ones she put at the top of her basket to entice people into buying from her. All that remained in her basket were the scant pickings she used to make the basket look full.

Nearly a full day’s wages – more, with those rosebuds – gone like that.

“What in the devil’s name was that noise, girl?” The bastard who ran into her sneered. She’d never before heard a voice so suited to sneering. She lifted her head to growl something back at him, but any biting words quickly died when she saw who looked down at her.

He was finer than any man – any person – she’d ever seen in Rosby. Not a single silver hair out of place, not a loose thread anywhere on his fine clothes, or a speck of dust on him. Well, except for the slight smudge of grime left on his deep green tailcoat from where he’d crashed into her. The sight of it made her want to crawl into her dirty basement and never come out again.

“You should watch where you’re walking, brother,” another man, standing next to the severe man who had run into her, said. The familiar resemblance was obvious in their coloring – the silver hair, the eyes so vibrantly blue they were nearly violet.

The severe man scoffed, his lip curling as he looked at her. “I was, Daeron. But the little wretch came out of nowhere.”

“I ain’t no ‘wretch!’” she shouted, indignation burning through her fear and embarrassment. “I’m a respectacle woman, I am!”

The man scoffed and rolled his eyes, and only then did she notice: his left eye was entirely white, its milky paleness emphasized by the angry red scar stretching from his forehead down through his cheek.

She didn’t mean to stare, really. But she had never seen a man who looked like him – scar or no. He was like something out of a fairy tale. Especially when his scowl deepened, and his one blue eye seemed to catch fire.

“Have you looked your fill?” he growled. She immediately averted her gaze, not knowing what to say. She couldn’t think of a single word.

The other man stepped forward, angling his cane slightly in front of his brother. He was softer, kinder looking. “Now, now, she’s just had quite the fall. Allow her to recover her senses.”

“I doubt she has any to recover.”

She flinched at his cruel tone and tried to hide it by picking up her basket full of little more than mulch. “My flowers…”

“Lord, she can’t even talk properly.” The severe man turned to his brother as she began picking through the spilled blossoms. “She sounds like a strangled goose.”

Evidently, the scene was too much for even the worst of the gossip mongers to endure, and the final gawkers turned back to their business. How was she ever supposed to speak to any of them again after this?

At least she’d be gone tomorrow. No one at Kingswood would know about this.

The kinder man – Daeron, the other had called him – hissed something before kneeling with her to help her pick at the flowers. He didn’t care to see if they were ruined; he just put them all back in the basket. “These are yours?”

She nodded.

“What are they for?”

“I sell ‘em,” she explained, wiping away an errant tear. The cruel man scoffed again when she sniffled. “Penny a bloom, tuppence for three. But…”

Daeron looked at the trampled violets, daisies, and rosebuds, then at the meager offerings that remained unharmed in her basket. The only reason anyone would buy them now would be to feed some animal. For that, she’d hardly get enough to pay her rent and have to use what little money she had hidden in a wooden box under her bed to cover her tab at the pub.

She wouldn’t be able to buy the clock.

“How much for the basket?” Daeron asked as he pulled out a pouch of coins.

“What?” She and the cruel man said at the same time, in the same disbelief.

He stepped forward, a large hand gripping his cane like it were a club he’d beat her with. “It is nothing but weeds, brother. Let’s move on.”

As much as she hated it, she agreed with him. “I don’t want your charity, sir,” she told Daeron. “I earn my money.”

The cruel man put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, ready to pull him away. “You heard her. Let us go.”

“No, Aemond!” Daeron pulled away from his brother – Aemond. The name was familiar to her, somehow. But the man himself turned away, his cheeks flushing slightly. Perhaps he was embarrassed, too. Good.

“It is not charity,” Daeron insisted. “We have damaged your wares, and we are compensating you. It is a fair exchange.”

“I…” she was too flustered to truly comprehend his words, much less calculate how much the destroyed flowers were worth.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Aemond stepped forward, pushing his brother back. He snatched the pouch, withdrew a few coins without looking at them, and tossed them toward her basket. Only one made it in, the others plinking onto the cobblestones. “There. You are compensated. Let us go.”

She vaguely heard Daeron say something in protest, but both men were gone when she looked up from gathering the stray coins. No one looked at her, as if she had dreamed the entire encounter. Depositing the coins in the basket, she quickly left the market and returned to her little room in a dirty basement.

Miss Doolittle dumped the contents of the basket on her bed. The flowers were thoroughly ruined now, but seven coins were glimmering amongst their dull petals: a sixpence, two shillings, two half-crowns, and two crowns.

Whatever the flowers had been worth, this was so much more. Perhaps more than she had ever possessed in her life. It could buy her that clock – the finest clock at the market, even. And more. But when she touched the coins, they felt oily. Wrong.

She had not earned it, and neither was it charity. These coins were an insult, a dismissal. That cruel man—Aemond—had thrown them at her like they were table scraps and she was a starving mutt.

It was more money than she ever dreamed, yet it was nothing to him but the soon-forgotten cost of ridding himself of an inconvenience.

She could not buy the clock. Not with this. But she would not let it go to waste. She added the sixpence, shillings, and one of the half-crowns to her box. That would pay all her remaining debts.

That still left her with two crowns and one-half crown. And while she had no intention of spending it, she knew someone who would have no hesitations whatsoever about doing so himself.

Market day ended the moment the sun set, and Rosby was once again just a quiet little town. Nearly every resident, now exhausted from a day hawking their wares or frantically trying to buy everything they’d need until the next market day, converged in the Ailing Rooster, the beloved, if more than a little run-down, local pub.

Miss Doolittle would usually be found in the middle of the throng, soaking up any gossip she could find and happily picking bits off other people’s plates. But tonight, she had merely claimed a small corner table where she sat staring at her three remaining coins. The longer she looked at the stamped faces on the coins, the more they started to look like that man – Aemond.

If that was how fancy folk saw her, what hope did she have for when the Duke’s daughter saw her? Would she be fired on the spot?

The excitement in her chest began to turn to nervousness at the thought. Was she little more than a fool for thinking she could actually do this?

Part of her was tempted to throw them into the fire to watch that stupid, sharp, beautiful face burn, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, even if she didn’t want the money for herself. There was someone out there who needed it. Or at least, who would appreciate it very much.

“How’re you gonna sulk the day before you go to live in bleedin’ paradise, ‘Little?”

She swiped the coins back into her little purse before Alfred could land in the seat across from her, his compatriots, Harry and Jaimie, close behind him. If he saw them, he’d only try to convince her to buy them all a round, but while the money was still hers, she would not allow it to be spent on drink. “I’m not sulkin’, just tired. And it’s not gonna be a ‘paradise.’”

“Yer sulkin’,” Harry laughed as he slyly swapped his half-full tankard with Alfred’s full one.

“Am not.”

“You are.” Jaime leaned forward, genuine concern on his face. “What’s wrong, girl? I thought you were excited about leaving?”

She sighed. “I was – I am! Just havin’ a bad day, I guess.”

All three men exchanged a look.

“We ‘eard,” Jaime nudged her with a shoulder. At least they hadn’t been planning to bring it up themselves. “Rich bastard.”

“Shit-sack,” Harry added.

Alfred slammed his tankard on the table. “Twat.”

A small smile bloomed on her lips. “Well, least I’ll never have to see ‘im again, right?”

Harry raised his stolen ale. “I’ll drink to that!”

“In a week, you won’t remember this,” Alfred added, flapping his hands about like he could swat the memories away from her. “You’ll be in a palace wearing silk and gold and won’t give a damn what some moron said to you.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing Harry’s tankard and taking a large gulp. “I’ll be a servant, I don’t think I’ll be wearing any silk or gold.”

“But you’ll make good money, maybe you can buy yourself something nice!”

Jaime nodded. “Maybe you’ll make enough to buy your own palace in a few years?”

“I don’t want a palace,” she admitted. In truth, she’d never really thought about a future beyond Rosby until about two weeks prior. “It’d be too big for just me.”

“Who says it would just be you, ‘Little?” She glared at Harry, and he swiftly looked away, already ruddy cheeks blushing even redder.

She leaned back in her chair, her hand reaching her pocket to fiddle with her coins. “Even if there was someone, I don’t want a palace. I just want…”

What did she want?

Something better than Rosby, but nothing too grand. She wouldn’t fit somewhere grand. So…

“All I want is a little cottage somewhere nice, where it doesn’t smell like cattle or sheep.” The more she spoke, the clearer the vision became. “I want a massive fireplace, so the whole place stays warm even when it’s snowing. And a garden – I want a place to grow my own flowers. Wouldn’t that be loverly?”

When she looked back up, all her friends were smiling at her. She soon joined them.

“Loverly, ‘Little,” Alfred agreed.

Suddenly, she did not feel so nervous to leave for Kingswood in the morning. She knew what she wanted, even if the details were still fuzzy. Holding that dream close to her chest, she was sure she could endure anything to get that loverly little cottage.

[kisses4spidey]

renovation | ☆ミ p. parker

summary - y/n renovates the spare bedroom into something she thinks peter will love, but there’s something he loves even more.

genre - fem!reader x peter, fluff, domestic

warnings - kissing, can be read as any peter but i imagined tasm!peter :)

w.c - 800+

a/n - first marvel fic ever!!!! i hope yall like it. i was inspired by that one stardew valley scene- also i dont actually know alot about photogrpahy and darkrooms but hey you write and you learn.

You stood back from the second bedroom and sighed, a smile crossing your face as feelings of self-accomplishment and proudness rushed through you. The room was set up with two desks, bottles of processing fluids, papers, storage containers and string hung from one side of the room to the other.

Though it was a small room, your heart felt big when you looked at it. You originally scolded yourself for doing this, as Peter had insisted on the room being your office or library (he was getting tired of book stacks), but as your hard work ties in together in a picture of purpose, you mentally wipe the dust of your shoulders and hold up a trophy reading 'Best Girlfriend Ever'.

One last time, you checked to make sure the red lights worked and that everything was set in place, as Peter's nightly retirement from swinging through the city was approaching. The time that actually happened was varying night to night, but you hoped he caught you before you fell asleep and he discovered the darkroom himself.

You situated yourself on a stool facing the kitchen counter, which faced the door. An old tie was resting on the bench, as well as your phone which buzzed unanswered messages from coworkers and friends. The doorknob jiggled with the sounds of keys (he changed his ways of climbing through the window after you almost got doxxed) before the door opened. You stood, dressed in a sleeping shirt and some pyjama pants, and rushed to him. Avoiding his hello kiss unintentionally, you wrapped the tie around his head and giggled to yourself. Peter was adorned in loose jeans and a shirt with a physics joke you didnt understand, his hair messy from flying through the wind for the past four hours.

"What's going on?" His cheeks bunched in a smile, as he placed his bag down before reaching out to you blindly.

"I've got a surprise for you, your not allowed to look beforehand."

He smirked and let out a sigh, "Oh god you haven't tried to paint me again have you?"

"Nope. Something much better." You took his biceps in your hands, squeezing them in excitment and anxiety as you pulled him down the hallway.

Peter had an idea where you were going, but not why. The new-ish apartment was basically memorised by now, and by the time you stopped pulling him he assumed he was stood in front on the spare bedroom. It had been unfurnished for the six months you had been moved in there, and even if he insisted you made it your own personal space, you denied the idea immediately.

Next, he felt you fingertips brush against his cheeks and unwrap the tie from his eyes. The first thing he saw was your beaming face and your hand on the doorknob behind your back. All he wanted was to squeeze your face and place a million kisses on your face, but alas you looked too excited to even blink.

His eyes darted from your eyes to the floor under the door and unconsiously raised one eyebrow with curiosity. It was tinted red.

"Okay. Before we go in, there are things that definitly need to be added and arranged differently but that depends on how you like things. Seriously, like this is not going to be everything you need-"

Peter gently pushed you to the side and opened the doorknob, eyes still on yours, "I'm sure whatever's behind this door is-"

He was met with a darkroom. A room to accompany his imense love for photography, in his very own apartment. He didn't need to rent out a dark room anymore, or borrow time from someone else. It was right here. He could photograph to his heart's content.

The strings we are at his eye level, and they swayed slightly when he bent down to observe the whole room. It was hard at first to differentiate one object from another due to the red hue of the entire room, but nonetheless he loved it.

"Is perfect." He finished his sentence in shock.

His gaze spun to face you, your back to him as you closed the door. When you turned, your face was full of anxiety and expectance. His eyes raked your face, he ducked below a string and grabbed your face, smashing his lips to yours.

You squealed in surprise and giggled into his lips. He ripped away - hands not leaving your face - and he started rambling. "This is perfect, Y/n! Oh my gosh. This is like the best thing ever- I'm a little angry that you didn't use it for yourself- But still this is like..." His eyes swirled with adoration and love, and it almost made your legs turn into jelly.

A weight was lifted off your shoulders at his reassuring words. You let out a happy laugh, "You deserve it, I'm glad you love it."

He took one more look at the room with the biggest smile you've seen on him in a while, before turning his attention to you once again. "Oh, but I like you much more."

He kissed you hard, opening the door behind you and leading you to your bedroom.

taglist is open!!

[fairykazu]

youre dating me! not him! ft. lyney࿐࿔ ✦cws: est. relationship, otome game (i.e. love and deepspace), rafayel my beloved, jealousy, feminine terms are used but reader is gender neutral, crackpost, lyney is trying to be batman to save chaos from gotham (his brain) and ooc ✦masterlist

lyney noticed something off with his girlfriend, giggling on their phone and of course, he thinks that youre either chatting away with your own friends or youve picked up a new hobby.

you have plenty of hobbies but you so happen to be invested in fandom culture.

hes well aware of how you read fanfiction on those websites, totally not because he snooped on your phone and accidentally found them. he will admit though that they are pretty well written, and he did steal some of the tropes and some of the pick up lines just to flirt and fluster you.

but you're not intensely reading fanfiction because you don't have the face, the "oh my god???" or "OH MY GODDD..... ?!?!?!?" so clearly, you're playing something else here. but you were being sneaky!

every time he tries to peek over, you hid your screen, turn off your phone. hell, you even invested into a privacy phone screen. although, these signs do sound like cheating. it most definitely is not because well… to put it lightly, you’re kind of a loser (affectionate) but its his favorite trait of yours!!!

…

wow.

that sounded more backhanded than he intended.

but he has to solve this mystery before the world falls to chaos…

he’s just going to “borrow” your phone. he had a plan and everything. he knew exactly what he was going to do. wait until you sleep, unlock your phone and find out your biggest secret at the moment.

but instead, midway of his plan, you had light mode on??? why are you the devil? knowing he was going to sneak onto your phone, you put your themes to light mode. its a sneak attack on his very character!

a bright light burned his eyes as he lowered the brightness because he will power through!! but he was being too loud when he was putting in your phone password.

lyney noticed you were waking up, quickly hiding your phone under a pillow case. as you yawned, you turned on the lamp, peeling open your eyes, “…mhmm, hey, lyney why are you up?”

“well, i couldnt sleep.” he replied back, snaking his arms around you. you laugh,

“is anything keeping you up?” funny you ASK, the joker of his heart !! you shifted in your side of the bed, facing his way. “ow, what the hell?” you reached under your pillowcase, “huh, why is my phone here?”

lyney, sweating, “um, maybe you forgot?”

“its even unlocked!”

“woww… wonder how it got there.”

silence filled the air as the both of you just stare at each other. well, he looked at your eyes with unwavering confidence and a midge of fear and you were straining your half asleep eyes at your boyfriend.

“lyney…”

“um… dont know! okay, fine i did it.”

“if you wanted to know, you can.” you handed him your phone, clearly even more suspicious. not really. he really wanted to get into this dark knight hero guy character.

he swiped through and nothing hut a new game. “oh! dont click that…”

“why?” he clicked on it anyway. he was met with kind of realistic men, painting, winking and other actions. its not as bad as he thought. or even, kind of typical girlfriend behavior.

hearing the theme song, you sighed, rubbing your temples. your tone was embarassed, “i.. its an otome game. i thought it would be weird—”

you met eye contact with lyney as you nervously laughed. “because its a dating simulator.”

“huh.”

“yeah…”

you could tell he was processing it in his mind. “wait, youre dating me,”

“yes.”

“and youre playing otome games, which is, dating sims.”

“yes…”

“but youre dating me! not him! ive been feeling neglect lately and you were gone in your prtend world of these…” he looks at the home screen. “very attractive suitors while i waste away to our homelife, trying to be better.”

“good narrative, babe.”

“thank you, i made it on the spot. wait, no, dont distract me!!” he made himself sound serious. “all jokes aside though, im glad it was a game. i thought it was more something serious.”

“such as?”

“like cheating! and i know how that sounds and i know you wouldn’t but the way you acted made it seem bad.”

he saw you load in the information he just gave you and you began to apologize. “dont worry, you just have to pay attention to me and i guess, whoever is on ‘amor and deepabyss’.”

“sounds like a plan!”

[machveil]

Has anyone brought to you the question of what type of car Konig drives? I can’t see him fitting in anything but a giant truck, but also the idea of him in a little VW Bug makes me wheeze. (Of course there’s always the third option of motorcycle, but that might just be because motorcycles are hot af)

OKAY ANON— you activated my brain and had me dig through a 300+ asmr playlist I have on YT for a very specific video so I’m going on a tangent and a half about this haha

I’ll start with the smallest thought portion because this is going to be long…

Retired!König strikes me as owning a motorcycle, first and foremost. he’s always liked the way they look, so now with a hefty savings account and ample free time, he’s decided this can be his retirement project. he could buy a new motorcycle, really treat himself, but this guy is a working man! he buys a beat up, ‘well-loved’ bike (even the seller was surprised someone was actually buying it)

even though Retired!König definitely has enough cash saved up to make the process of fixing the bike up fast… he doesn’t. he wants this to be a pastime he can keep up, even it means he can’t ride the bike for a long time. he’d order parts individually every week or so - smaller parts, maybe in batches. he’ll grab a beer, put on some music, open his garage, and let the neighbors have a show of him dismantling and breathing new life into this motorcycle

all in all, I think it takes Retired!König a year, a year and a half, to fully finish the bike (of his own volition). by the end it’s beautiful - new sleek paint, high end parts, the works. …he could possibly be so into it that Retired!König opens an actual garage shop and fixes up vehicles (mechanic!König anyone?). yeah, he’s retired, but having a hobby that makes you money? can’t say no to that, Maus

ANYWAYS, on to the meat and potatoes of this post

so, my beautiful, oh so smart anon, thank you for sparking my brain into remembering THIS VIDEO. you CANNOT tell me this isn’t König coded, the entire thing SCREAMS König to me (actually, the entire channel does, but I can only fangirl so much)

König owning a Jeep scratches my brain right - I’m not knowledgeable on cars/trucks, so if you think there’s a better off-roading/camping vehicle I will believe you 100%. also, I’m sorry, I’m watching the video as I’m writing this - König would definitely take his fluffy, little kitty camping with him. the guy in the video has a dog, but my cat dad propaganda will never stop

it doesn’t matter where or how old König is, he loves camping and immersing himself in nature - he needs a vehicle that can keep up with him. it started as a kid where he’d flee into the local woods after school or on weekends for alone time. he convinced his mama that he’d be okay if he camped out in the woods, and after one dinky camping trip he was sold. every chance he gets he’s off in nature - hiking, camping, he tried caving once but he was too big :( he liked the entrance to the cave though. he adores bird watching, definitely has high end binoculars. he’d buy a camera too, but he’d rather enjoy nature in the moment rather than fumbling to take a photo. König thinks that some things don’t need to be captured in a photo, it’s okay just sitting down experiencing it, just remembering it

so König enjoys having a vehicle that lets him get away from people, he doesn’t mind driving til he’s almost running on empty. he’d gladly drive out into the middle of nowhere just to sit down and take in nature. always carries a box of trash bags in his truck so he can pick up litter along the road. and, since his vehicle is what allows him to travel, he takes very good care of it

back to his Jeep, he decks it out like the guy in the video. when König camps he treats it as a ‘how long can I stay out here’ ordeal, or up until he has to go home for obligations. so König tries to maximize space, I’ll say it every time - König has a place for everything, he’s an organized king✨

I’m not going to lie, I’m just going to say look at the guy’s Jeep in the video. they way he has it set up is just how I imagine König’s Jeep - this guy has a net attached to the ceiling for supplies, I could see König bungee cording a cooler in the back (completely organized), I just have so many thoughts on König camping this is too much haha

I’m trying to stay focused on the car aspect, but like… camping with König :( I guess I could make that another post if people want to see that

I’m sorry the latter half was so all over the place, I tried to keep it simple and edit it down, but I couldn’t anyways… he definitely owns some type of car that can handle camping. I’m partial to this specific Jeep though, call me biased lol

I looked up that VW Bug and I’m SCREAMING, this poor man haha! he’d be so hunched over, anon, his poor back. König definitely loves the aesthetic/look of the VW Bug, but he’d rather deep clean his home than sit in that (which says a lot). if you own a cute little car he’d offer to drive you everywhere. he claims that he’s being a gentleman, that you shouldn’t have to lift a finger, but in actuality he just doesn’t want to sit in that cramped little vehicle. he’s so sorry, Maus, let him make it up to you by being his passenger princess?

[crowandmousewritingco]

Foretold in the Scales

Pairing: dragon!Marcus Moreno x gn!reader

Words: 3.4 k

Rating: M (smut city. 18+ MDNI)

Summary: The dragon needs a new mate, and it's your turn.

Warnings: Fated mates, ceremonies, slight dub con (you didn't choose this, but later on you consent to it) breeding, ovipositing, mentions of pregnancy with an egg, dragon anatomy, oral (reader receiving)

Author: Mod Mouse

Notes: This is my entry for the Monster (S)mash challenge hosted by the lovely @quinnnfabrgay-writes and @hauntedhowlett-writes. I loved this challenge so much! It makes me wanna write more monsters smut hehe.

That goodman dragon scale. It of course landed on you cause that was the last thing you needed today. But as it spun around as if it seemed to be “pulled” towards you. At least that's what the priests said, but you didn’t buy it. Unfortunately though for you, once the scale decided there was no going back, because if He found out that the village was lying, then they could find someone else to protect them. 

The rest of the day was a blur. Oils and perfumes were sprayed on your body creating a cloud of scents that made your head spin. Your hair was decorated with different local flowers while someone painted the ceremonial glyphs on your pale skin. You remember being dressed in the ceremonial ashen gray linens that hardly hid what lay underneath. Soon you were the spitting image of the sacrifice you were meant to be. 

The precession was a blur as four of the strongest warriors carried you on the dias up the long mountain trail that led to your future. Hymns and songs were sung as you climbed higher and higher until the village where you had called home for most of your life was now just a dot in the valley.

Stones piled up beside the entrance of the caves were carved with reliefs but you knew what they depicted. When every king tried to take the city those long centuries ago, there was only one person…or rather one creature that saved them. The Pewter Protector they called him. A massive dragon with a mouth full of flesh tearing teeth flew down from the heavens and slayed the enemy. The village begged for the dragon’s protection, and the Protector obliged. 

But that protection came at a price. He came from a dying breed and so to continue his safeguard, he required a sacrifice. It wasn’t food or money. No it was human. He required a mate. A mate that would carry another one of his kind. Someone to keep him company through the long nights and keep him warm during the mating season. 

Which is why you were here now, as the priestess sang out the chants that praised the Protector and called him from his dark chambers. You knew the ceremonies. The men would set their dias down and the procession would quietly leave as the priestess would continue their songs until their voices were lost in the winds. 

The high mountain winds whipped around you as you stared at the dark expanse of the cave. The silence was unnerving. Goosebumps ran up your skin making you wrap your arms around your torso, hoping for an ounce of warmth. Not even a pebble dropped as you waited for your husband to present himself. Soft tears threatened to spill from your eyes as time passed. As much as you wanted to be strong you were terrified. You squeezed your eyes shut waiting for your fate. 

“I keep telling them that I don’t want all of this,” You heard a voice break your silence and you opened your eyes in confusion. A tall dragonborn stood in front of you. Dark gray scales covered most of his body and arched across his neck and cheek like a stroke of charcoal. His eyes were dark to match the midnight hair that sprouted across his head and jawline. 

“W-What?” You whispered as you took him in. 

He sighed and slowly approached you. “I’m really sorry for all of this trouble,” He apologized as he held out his clawed hand out to your body. 

You looked down to his hand and back up to his face, confusion etched deep into your expression. “You…what?” 

“I’m sorry again. I know this is strange and I’ve been trying to tell them forever that I really don’t need them to use the scale. I promise them that I can tell who my mate is for the season just by…” He pauses as the wind changes, drifting your scent into his sensitive nose. 

“By what?” You asked, rising to your bare feet. 

“You smell sweet,” The Protector complimented as he turned back to you. 

“Um, thank you?” You asked. 

“Oh goodness, where are my manners? Please follow me.” He gestured to his cave and you followed him down into his lair. 

Though as you walked you were surprised grew even more. “I-It’s warm in here.” You comment as the walls turn more and more decorated with reliefs and other such designs. 

“That would be the mountain’s core. I know most dragonkind need their heat and we aren’t any different.” The dragon answers as you enter the biggest area so far. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture except for a large fire pit and a giant collection of pelts and pillows in the surrounding area. 

“This is…actually quite cozy.” You look around the room and find yourself smiling at the surroundings. 

“Please make yourself at home,” The Protector getured to his area. “Would you like some tea?” 

“Yes I would like some um…I don’t think I got your name?” 

“Marcus,” He smiled with his gleaming white teeth. He took his tea kettle out and filled it with water from the barrel in the corner. Gently he took the full kettle and hung it above the fire. With a groan he sat himself next to the fire. Carefully you sat near him warming yourself on the flames. 

“So you aren’t as vicious as they say.” You said, turning to look at him. 

He looked back with almost a hurt expression. “I don’t like to hurt humans. I only do harm when there’s a threat to the village.” 

“Then why do they do this whole ceremony? Since apparently I’ve only known a lie.” You chuckled softly. 

Marcus sighed. “I think they think they owe my kind for something we did long ago. But we did it because they helped us first.” 

“What did they do?” You asked as the kettle began to whistle. 

The dragon turned his torso to grab the two cups and set them in front of him. Carefully he grabbed the kettle’s handle and poured the tea. The leaves swirled as the hot water saturated them, filling your nose with the herbal scents. 

“They saved my daughter from poachers,” He answered as he handed you the tea and you thanked him. The mug was warm against your hand and you shivered when you realized how cold you were. 

“Here,” He said quietly and stood up taking one of the pelts from the bed. With a gentleness you weren’t expecting from a dragon, he draped it over your shoulders. 

You gently caressed the fur smiling at how comforting it was. “What’s your daughter’s name?” 

“Missy. She was out training one day and they surrounded her. Luckily some soldiers saw the situation and saved her. The Steel Clan is forever indebted to them,” He smiled softly drifting to his mug. “She’s got her own mountain to defend. Hatchlings always grow up too fast.” 

“Seems to be a trait no matter the species,” You smiled before taking a sip of the tea. The herbal aroma hit your tongue and you sighed. The scent drew you back to winter nights in your house, and a sense of both nostalgia and homesickness knotted in your stomach.

Marcus sensed your subtle body language frowned.  “You know you can leave. I don’t want to keep you here.” Marcus told you, taking you in with his charcoal eyes. 

You chuckled. “Did I say something wrong?” He asked with concern in his voice. 

“No no just,” Your thumb traces the rim of your cup. “You’re a lot different than I thought. I don’t mind staying. And you’re unlike what they tell us in the village.” 

“What do they tell you?” He asked with concern in his voice. 

“It’s a lot more authoritative and demanding,” You sighed, staring at the dark liquid in your cup. 

“That’s really what they say about me?” Marcus frowned, hurt laced in his dark eyes. 

“Something must have gotten lost in translation…because you really are sweet.” 

You swear you could see a scales flush. “You are too kind.” Marcus replied, taking a sip to hid his face. 

“I should thank you for not eating me,” You chuckled, but your mirth was quickly replaced by a yawn. 

“Here you should rest. Take my nest for tonight, I’ll sleep by the fire.” Before you could protest, he held his palm out. “I insist.” 

And honestly you didn’t have the energy to resist. Wrapping the pelt around your shoulders, you gave him a quick “Thank you,” before rising to your feet. Marcus watched you as you stumbled to the nest of blankets and settled yourself amongst the pile. 

Marcus kept an eye out until he heard your breathing even out, but stayed for longer just to make sure. As quietly as he could with his bulky form, he wandered to the entrance. A low grumble flowed from his mouth, as he stretched his hidden wings. Large veiny membranes spread out taking up most of the space. The wind furled against them and Marcus sighed at the feeling. It was a moment before he spoke to himself. “I must provide for my mate.” With a swoosh of his wings, he soared into the dark sky looking for prey to feed his beloved. 

The days passed without much excitement. Marcus cared for you which was more than kind of him. He insisted that you didn’t lift a finger, but you would sneakily tidy the area when he was out. You had to admit you didn’t hate the routine of it. Past you would hate staying in one place for too long. But the more time you spent in Marcus’s company, the more you found yourself being drawn to him unexpectedly. 

Your body began to warm whenever you were in his presence even if it was outside in the cold winds. Maybe it was just that he was the best company in a long time, or maybe it was something else but you loved staying near him. Until one day where everything clicked into place. 

The smell of cooking meats woke you from your slumber. A deep inhale filled your lungs with the aromatic scent and you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment. It smelt like the smoked meats from the village, earthly and savory all at the same time. Pushing yourself up from your cozy bed, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. 

Marcus stood with his back behind you, his wings now visible to you though constricted because of the small space. Rising to your feet, you slowly walked over to the fire. Curiously your fingers tough ridges. The skin was bumpy against your skin and you found the touch bringing you comfort. 

The dragon drew in a sharp inhale as you slowly caressed his wings. “Y-you shouldn’t do that.” 

You quickly retracted your hand. “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean well I hadn’t seen your wings,” You rambled. “Just thought they were pretty is all.” 

Marcus turned around and you were taken aback by how much he was panting. “Marcus?” 

“The problem isn’t you. The problem is that if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to control myself,” He purred, stepping closer to your form. Until now you never realized just how much he towered over you. 

“What do you mean?” 

“There’s a reason the ceremony happens when it does. Mating season came quicker for me, and that’s because you entered my life. You’re my mate.” He answered. Your scent permeated his nostrils making him crave you more. “But I can’t mate you without your full consent. If you want to walk away and live a normal life I will not blame you.” 

“Your mate, how do you know?” You asked confused yet curious at the same time. 

“How do humans say? It’s like butterflies in your stomach, but we feel a physical tugging at our souls,” He answered gently, caressing his stomach. 

Something pulled you to do the same and your fingers slid under your thin covering. A pulse of electricity sparked in your eyes and you gasped. “W-What was…?” You began, but as you lifted your head to meet his gaze, there was something different about Marcus. The light from the fire lit him up like you’ve never noticed before. It was as if a bolt of magic filled the room and focused itself on Marcus. 

“Mate?” You whispered and you slowly reached up to cup his cheek in your hand. The rough scales sending comfort throughout your body as you caressed them with your thumb.  Marcus’s chest rumbled as he purred against your palm, nuzzling like a cat. You couldn’t help but giggle at this tall creature acting just like a household pet. 

“Yes my mate,” He purred and he leaned his head down just close enough to brush his lips against yours a silent ask for your consent. 

You quickly filled the space and kissed him passionately. His lips were both soft and rough at the same time. The scales brushed against your chin, and you found yourself falling in love with the feeling. Some part of you wanted to know how those felt in between your legs. 

A soft moan escaped your lips and Marcus paused gently, setting his hands on your hips as if they were made of the finest porcelain. “Are you sure about this?” He asked as his fingers gingerly caressed your hips. Claws carefully poking at your skin and you bit your lip. Suddenly the heat inside you was so much. You wanted…no…you craved Marcus. 

“I’m sure,” You leaned up and whispered in his ear. “Put an egg in me Marcus.” 

Marcus groaned at the sight of you round with his egg. “Bed. Now.” He moaned as he backed you into the nest. You smirked as you kissed him slowly pulling him on top of you. Hungrily he kissed you with his hands up and down your sides. His claws delicately teasing your chest making you gasp. 

“M-Marcus,” You moaned, tilting your head back against the furs. 

He chuckled and nibbled at your neck. “Such a handsome sight.” He kept one of his clawed hands on your chest and with one of his claws ripped the material away as gently rubbed your slit. “Mmmm already achingly needy for me darling. Getting you all ready to take my cock.” He growled and kissed his way down your body. Each one sending tingles to your hands and feet. 

He only stopped right between your legs. “Now let's see how you taste. I bet it’ll tell me how fertile you are.” He licked a long lap from your hole to your most sensitive area. You moaned loudly grabbing on his dark locks as you tried to ride his face. 

With a strong hand he kept your hips in place and gazed up at you licking his lip. “Be good for me baby. If you are, I’ll put a baby in you, and by the looks of it it won’t be too hard.” 

You moaned at his words as his tongue dipped inside you once more lapping up your arousal soaking his face. The taste was like nothing he had ever experienced and he would be damned if he ever stopped. Eternity wouldn’t be enough time to memorize your taste. 

“Fuck just the most divine taste,” He purred and nibbled your sensitive thigh. “You’re a perfect mate.” 

“Marcus,” You whined but you loved every second. Every lick and touch sent your bond pulsing. 

“Shhh baby let me take care of you,” He kissed the bite mark before pushing his tongue inside your hole once again. His movements were precise making sure you were opened up for him. He loved being a dragon, but the claws were something he couldn’t control. That just meant he became so prolific with his tongue. 

And the practice was evident on the way you writhed under his touch. Every lick and suck sent so much pleasure your way. The pressure in your stomach grew and grew as your legs began to shake. 

“Marcus!” You screamed in ecstasy as you came hard from his tongue. Stars danced in your eyes as you curled your legs around your mates back, pulling him into you more. Toes curling and legs shaking left you feeling high from your orgasm.

The dragon purred in contentment as his tongue slowed as your high slowed to stop leaving you breathless. “Such a handsome mate I have,” He grinned and kissed up your body, taking his time to explore and memorize every dip and curve of your body. “I’m never gonna get use to this canvas.” 

You whimpered under the praise and you pulled him against your chest. His cool scales soothing your heated skin as you kissed him deeply. Gently you nuzzled your face into his shoulder taking him in with every sense. 

Marcus leaned his mouth nibbling your earlobe gently. “I’m gonna put a egg in you,” He moaned as his hips rocked against your thigh. His hardening cock rubbing against the soft skin. Curiously you peaked down and blushed at the size. It was big. Nothing compared to the size of the men in the village. 

“Fuck,” You cursed as you reached down to take it in your hand. It pulsed under your touch as you stroked it tentatively. The bumps and ridges felt foreign to you, but gods did your thoughts wonder at the idea of that deep inside of you as he pumped you full of his cum. 

“It’s okay. I’ll be gentle,” Marcus whispered, nuzzling his nose into your neck. 

You were quiet for a moment, making Marcus lift his head in concern. You made eye contact with him. “I don’t think I want you to be,” You admitted. 

Marcus’s eyes darkened and he pressed his forehead into yours. You felt his cock bounce in your hand. “Are you sure? I won’t be able to hold back.” 

“Please mate,” You whispered. 

Marcus growled as he guided his cock away from your hand and pushed into you in one fluid motion. The penetration was sudden, but it sent such intense pleasure through you that you thought you could finish with just that. 

But the noises Marcus made were hymns to your ears. He panted and growled as he felt you around his cock. “I-I can’t wait any longer.” 

“Fuck me Marcus.” 

And that was all he needed. His hips pulled back and snapped forward back into your hole. Everything felt divine. The bumps, the length, everything made your head spin. “Fuck!” You moaned as Marcus set a fast pace. 

With every thrust, Marcus became more and more desperate. Desperate to fill you with his seed and desperate to plant an egg inside of you. The image of you round with his egg spurred him on. You squeezed around him like your soul depended on it. 

Whether it was your newly discovered bond, or the immaculate feeling of Marcus inside you, but you felt the heat rise in your stomach once again. The dragon thrusted faster as he felt you tighten around you. “Cum for your mate,” He moaned. 

Your pleasure snapped and you squeezed around him as you reached your high once again. This was enough for Marcus. 

“I’m gonna,” He grunted as his cock twitched, your tight hole making it hard to last. 

“Cum mate,” You moaned, and your words sent him over the edge. With a growl that filled the chamber, he came buried inside of you. You moaned with every quiver of his cock as his cum filled your hole. But it wasn’t quite normal. With each spurt, it felt bumpy, and it took you a moment to realize that it was eggs filling you up. And you moaned as each one filled you fuller and fuller. Marcus’s hand gently caressed the small bump in your stomach, please with the sight. 

Just as you thought Marcus would pull out, he gently lifted your hips, setting a pillow underneath your back. Confused, you looked back up at him. He smirked. “Not gonna let anything drip out of you. I want to make sure the eggs stay inside of you.” 

You moaned and bit your lips. Marcus smiled and carefully leaned over to kiss your forehead. “My sweet mate will be well taken care of. But for now rest. You need all the energy to incubate our eggs.” Sleepiness filled your head and your eyes slowly began to dip close. The hum of Marcus’s purring sending you into a very satisfied sleep.

```````

All Works Taglist

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

Thank you the lovely @saradika-graphics for the dividers

[ilys00ga]

FOREVER, YOU & ME.

pairing: yoongi x oc

genre: yandre!yoongi, doctor!yoongi, patient!reader, doctor/hospital au, one-shot.

warning: mentions of drugs (?), obsessive and manipulative behavior, non-consensual, use of pet names.

A/N: tried something new :) really couldn't stop myself from writing again. sorry.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

pitch dark night sky, bright colorful lights drowning the crowded streets of Seoul and fireworks painting the canvas of the sky. it's New Years Eve, everyone is outside. people playing here, others dancing there. even those who prefer staying inside restaurants to enjoy the presence of their loved ones in the first moments of the year.

however the celebration is, everyone is doing something on the streets of Seoul tonight.

one hour post midnight, and the hospital is still alive and cold, as usual.

"I left some other reports and important papers on your desk, I'll be helping Dr. choi for the rest of the night." nurse Jeon tells yoongi as they stand at the reception.

"are there any news on the missing patient?" nurse Jeon asks.

"nope. it's been three days and still no trace." the receptionist answers.

"that's weird. she was getting discharged right before disappearing." nurse Jeon's brows furrow. "poor girl suffered here for months and never got a break."

"maybe she just decided to leave quietly with no warning." yoongi hums casually. it's no rare case to have patients leaving the hospital with no words, as soon as their treatment ends. some are just impatient as that.

"she was friendly though, hyung. I expected a small goodby, to be honest." yoongi snorts with an eye roll at the younger's pout. he is naturally social, this one, he likes to befriend the patients to make them feel as comfortable as their healing process requires, and maybe a tiny bit more.

yoongi, on the other hand, is less social and more professional. he likes to focus only on his job and to smoothly terminate his missions.

"she was your patient, though, are you not even slightly worried, hyung?" he added.

"she's probably having a blast now, Jeon, it's new year's eve in the outside world. now, you get going." with a last pat on the nurse's back, yoongi bids his goodbye and leaves to the upper floors.

he passes by sleepy rooms, walking through long, white corridors with his hands tucked in the pockets of his white, neat knee-length lab coat. there's barely any people at this hour in the hospital, so any loud noise can be ten times louder in the thick, silent air of the night. he hums a random melody he grew fond of in the past couple of days as quietly as he can.

finally, he reaches a door. twisting the knob and entering his much warmer office, in which he barely lets anyone save from his nurses and very few collegue-friends.

unwanted presence means unwanted curiosity, which leads to unwanted questions and feelings.

ever so quietly, he removes the stethoscope hanging from the back of his neck and down to his chest, then puts it atop the desk. he always avoides touching the silver parts because of how annoyingly cold they usually get, despite the awake radiators that are distributed everywhere in the building.

bending towards one of the drawers, he opens it, pulls a key and a filled needle out, then heads to open another door inside the office. a door strictly forbidden for anyone except from himself.

every time the very few people that are allowed inside the office ask about that door, he says it's the private room in which he uses for resting and personal time when his shift hours get crazy.

a wave of relief washes over him upon stepping in.

the space is almost empty, limited in furniture. there's darkness, a small lamp on a small night stand right next to a bed, a heater, and there's a body.

someone is lying on that bed.

you are lying on that bed. small form, unmoving limbs, resting pale face, closed eyes, dark circles, dry lips... it would've been easy to assume that your soul had already left and rose high up to the skies if it weren't for the faint raise and fall of your torso.

a low melody, the same one he was humming a few minutes ago, can be heard as well. almost non-audible, not to grab any external attention or... disturb your deep, deep slumber.

yoongi smiles as he slowly sits on the edge of the bed, so careful as if you'd wake up at the smallest of mouvements.

the faint yellow lights of the lamp shone gently on your face, making him lift his hand to caress you skin and stare. thoughtless and content. just staring.

a few moments pass by and he snaps out of his hase, remembering what needs to be done first and before anything else.

he grabs the needle with one hand and holds your wrist in the other. he's so gentle with his touch. so gentle as if to apologize for what he's been doing to you.

"it's time for your shots, pertal." he whispers to your unconscious body. "I'm helping you sleep soundlessly, with no worries or corrupt thoughts."

the needle stabs your skin and pushes the drug into you vein.

"it's been three days, my love. I love having you here, you know?" he pulls the needle out and puts it in his pocket.

"people are looking for you. they want to take you away from me. like you wanted to leave and go away.. far away.. and leave.. I won't let that happen." his face eyes grow sharper as his words become saltier, but his voice stands soft and calm.

he lays down to face your stomach and hugs you. he hugs you tight and close, afraid you'd jump out of the bed and run away at any given moment. as if you could even lift a finger in your condition.

yoongi closes his eyes shut and inhales deeply, allowing your scent to settle into his lungs, locking it there and in his brain as well so he could remember it when he's away from you, doing whatever shitty thing his job makes him do during his shift.

"I can't let you go. I know you're a good little thing. nothing will change between us as long as you behave and stay with me. like this. forever."

"it's you and me forever, darling."

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"well at least let me Love You The Same"

"baby, I thought that we had something. compared to him I'm next to nothing."

synopsis// izuku knows he has no chance, but that doesn't stop him from falling hopelessly head over heels for you… or where izuku is an idiot and doesn't know proper communication since he was seven.

pairing// izuku midoriya x gn!reader

word count// 5.2k

contents// no quirks au, fluff? maybe like a hint of angst? college au, pro heros are now famous musicians, mutual unknown pining, childhood friends to lovers?, izuku has NO game. one singular kys joke.

notes// im trying to get rid of my oldish mha drafts so heres this. anyway i kinda tried something new with the povs in the story so uhm let me know if it worked or if it made everything unnecessarily confusing. anyways todays oneshot was inspired by uneasy hearts weigh the most by dance gavin dance ! (so good im trembling )

April 10th, 20XX | 7 years old

Izuku, you, and Kacchan were on another one of your little adventures. The three of you sat atop some rocks you had to climb to get up in the first place, all of you attempting to catch your breaths as the fresh spring breeze felt heavenly against your sweaty bodies from playing all day long. Izuku loved days like this, where all of you would hang out together. Most days, it was just him and Kacchan because you’d have a babysitter who wouldn’t let you out of their sight, but your parents were home today, and when they’re home, anything is on the table. You want to leave to go to the river with the boys? Go right ahead! You want to chase down an ice cream truck? Sure, why not? Izuku loved when they were around because that meant you were around. and Izuku loved you.

Even as young as he is, he knows, and maybe he doesn’t know in what way he loves you, but he very quickly finds out when he turns toward you. The sun is just barely starting to set, and the orange hue reflects off your eyes as you gaze out into the horizon, like little gold specks of glitter, and Izuku finds himself completely enamored by them. He wants you to look at him, to stare at him as peacefully as you are staring out into nothing, and suddenly you turn toward him as if you had somehow read his thoughts. You grin childishly at him, your smile so big that your eyes shut and your nose crinkles, and Izuku finds his heart skipping a beat. that’s... That’s not normal, is it? Kacchan doesn’t make his heart skip a beat even though Izuku loves him, so why do you? It hits Izuku like a train. Oh, right. Because he loves you. as more than a friend. Lost in thought, Izuku doesn't realize that you're calling his name until you grab him by the shoulders and shake him a little.

“Zuku!”

“S-Sorry!”

You laugh a bit and shake your head as you return your hands back to your sides. “It’s fine; you were mumbling. You okay?”

He nods, an endearing smile paints his face, and his wide green eyes are filled with nothing but pure adoration for you. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm more than okay.”

You return the smile before turning your head back toward the sky, and Izuku has to muster up an inhumane amount of strength not to beg you to keep staring at him, to keep smiling at him, to focus on him and him alone.

Izuku’s life-altering moment is quickly ruined by a grunt.

“Let’s go, extras,” Kacchan says.

Kacchan jumps off the rocks the three of you are sitting on, but instead of landing, he eats shit and lands with a loud thud on the pavement. His knees and palms, and nearly every other part of him, were scraped in the process. Though apparently that's just a normal occurrence for him because he gets up like nothing's happened and stares up at Izuku and you.

“Let’s go; what are you guys waiting for?”

Izuku and you glance at each other in complete amazement. Though Izuku’s awe for Kacchan is quickly replaced by amazement for you, and with the way your eyes glimmer, he almost feels like they’re beckoning him to tell you he loves you. But the next words out of your mouth shut him right up and completely shattered his seven-year-old heart:

“Bakugo is amazing!”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Present day | 19 years old

Izuku lies flat on his bed, staring up at his hands as they stretch out toward the ceiling. He opens and closes them, half-heartedly imagining what it would feel like to hold your hand. He sighs and lets his hands fall back to his sides. Twelve years later and Izuku is still, if not even more, hopelessly in love with you. Actually, at this point, he doesn’t think the word love is large or strong enough to convey how he feels about you. How could such a meek word ever begin to truly explain the depth of his feelings for you? They could never, but it’s the closest attempt. Though Izuku is losing hope in himself and in you, he’s tried to confess; he really has, but every time he thinks the moment is just right, something always happens.

Whether he freezes up, someone walks in, one of you gets a call, or Kacchan somehow gets brought up, whether it's from you talking about him or physically showing up, without a doubt, something goes wrong every time he tries, and at this point, he’s ninety-nine point nine percent sure this is the universe telling him to stop while he’s ahead, and maybe he should listen to it. Not maybe; he should. He knows he should. He’s known since he was seven; you like Kacchan, not him. And maybe the fact that he doesn’t understand why you like Kacchan doesn’t make this any easier. Yes, he agrees that Kacchan is amazing, but there are also so many things that Izuku excels at compared to him, like, for example, romance! But he understands.

He understands that, in your eyes, he's nothing compared to Kacchan; Kacchan is everything he's not. So he'll listen to the universe, or at the very least, he’ll try. He can’t one hundred percent guarantee this will work because Izuku lives off his emotions and thinks with his heart, but he’ll try. He swears he will. He’ll push these feelings so far down, like an anchor cast into the middle of the ocean, he’ll make sure they never reach the surface again. He mumbles to himself about how he should make a plan. That could make things a lot easier, that could make this actually work. Izuku determinedly nods to himself and sits upright, leaning over to grab his pen and notebook from his bedside table. As he writes, he mumbles to himself.

10 STEPS TO GETTING OVER Y/N

1. Desensitize yourself to them!

2-9. ????

10. You’re over them! Congrats! 

Izuku sighs. Okay, so maybe he doesn’t have that much of a plan going, but two steps is better than nothing, right? At least he has an idea of how to start! But how is he supposed to do that? With exposure therapy, of course! There’s no better way to desensitize yourself to something than by constantly subjecting yourself to it, so that’s exactly what he’ll do. He’ll just spend more time with you! ... well, even more than he already does! Speaking of which, he should go do that now, not because he actually wants to, of course. This is all just part of his plan to get over you; there's no way in hell this is because he’s so in love with you and feels physically drawn to you like a magnet. Pft. Definitely not.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Bakugo lays on your bed with his head dangling upside down off the end, watching you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at your wall, a small frown flitting across your face.

Bakugo grumbles, “Fuck's wrong with you?”

“I’m gonna do it,” you respond candidly, not bothering to look at him.

He sits up on his elbow, turns slightly to look at you, and quietly asks, “….This isn’t about me telling you to kill yourself the other day, right? Cause I was just joking.”

This finally breaks your gaze away from the wall and toward him, your face scrunched up in confusion. “What? No.” 

“Oh ok. Good.” Bakugo goes back to hanging upside down before continuing, “Do what then?”

“Confess.” 

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Be so fucking serious.”

“I am!!”

“Y/N, you say this every fucking week and never do it.”

“I really mean it this time!” You say adamantly before trailing off, “I just..."

He raises his eyebrow at you. “You just?”

“I need your help.”

“Nuh uh,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t do that romantic bullshit.”

“Kirishima would say otherwise,” you mumble, “but it’s just... you’re his best friend.”

“Y/N, we're all best friends, idiot, and if anything, you’re closer to him than I am,” he says, either ignoring or not having heard your first statement, and either way, you’re not complaining.

“Can you just help me?”

“What do you even need help with?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging. “I need a plan to confess.”

Bakugo narrows his eyes at you in question. “a plan?”

“Yeah! like, I don’t know,” you say hastily, shaking your hands around you in vague gestures. “Maybe I should get him All Might merch and be like, I like you!” You end your sentence with a thumbs-up.

He looks at you blankly, and he’s not sure if it’s your shit ideas that are making his head hurt or the fact that he’s been hanging upside down for too long. “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Your face is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“My face?”

“Yeah.”

“Heard?”

“Seen.”

Bakugo rolls his eyes at you and reluctantly asks, “Got any other shitty ideas?”

“No,” you say meekly.

"God, you're fucking hopeless,” he grumbles, rubbing his temples. He should probably stop hanging upside down, but he also doesn’t really care that much.

You cross your arms and glare at him.

Bakugo tuts. “What if you just confess like a normal person?”

“That just doesn’t feel big enough!” you exclaim, slightly miffed.

He can't help but let out a snort that's so loud it almost sounds painful. “That’s what she said.”

You huff in exasperation. “Can you be serious?!”

“God fuck fine,” he says, finally sitting up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve been in love with him since we were kids, Bakugo,” you say, frowning. “I don't want to just be like, Lol, I like you; I want to do something for him!”

“Gross.” Bakugo stands up from your bed and points at you as he commands, “Get a piece of paper.”

You get up and grab a piece like he says regardless, yet you can’t help but still ask, “For what?”

“So we can brainstorm, idiot,” he replies pointedly, now sitting down on the floor where you were just moments ago.

“Oh! Thank you, Bakugo; I knew you loved me!”

He stifles a laugh. “Yeah, don’t go around saying that.”

You take a seat next to Bakugo, both of you sitting cross-legged, and place the paper down in front of the two of you. The two of you lean in to have a better view of the paper, your shoulders and legs touching at this point. You both take turns writing down a plan and either agreeing with it or, more often than not, scribbling it out because one of you finds it stupid. You two go at this for what feels like hours when really it’s probably only been about twenty minutes, give or take. Suddenly, he claps his hands together, and you jump at the noise.

“Jesus christ.” You exhale heavily, your hand on your chest, feeling how your heart races from being startled. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I got it,” he mumbles as he fervently writes something down on the paper, triumphantly slamming the pen down when he’s done.

You stare at him curiously, and he merely smirks at you while pointing down at what he wrote, silently urging you to read it. You roll your eyes at him before quickly scanning what he wrote, and you can see why he got so excited because now you’re feeling the exact same way.

“Bakugo, you’re a genius!” you cry, returning your focus to him.

Bakugo leans in toward you, his gaze zeroing in on yours, and nods. “Fuck yeah, I am!”

With how close you two were sitting together already, the two of you staring at each other like this, leaned in with your noses about to touch, makes it look like the two of you are about to kiss. So if anyone walked in right now, without a doubt, they would think something was up. And it’s just your luck—or lack thereof—when Izuku walks in. The three of you were close enough that, at any given moment, one of you would always end up in the other's dorm without warning. Izuku stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you, and he has to actively will his legs not to give out from underneath him right then and there as you both turn toward him, smiles on your faces.

You swiftly grab the piece of paper and hide it behind your back, smiling up at the boy who holds all of your affection. “Hi Zuku, what’s up?”

Bakugo hums and leans back on his palms. “Sup nerd.” 

“Sorry for interrupting!” He stammers nervously; fuck, he hates when he does that. He’s been good about not doing that, but it’s easy to fall back into it when he thinks he’s just witnessed the two of you about to kiss.

“What?” You let out a small laugh. “Zuku, you didn’t interrupt anything.”

“I should have knocked! or given you guys a warning! Sorry, I really didn’t mean to interrupt the two of you!” Izuku avoids all eye contact with either of you as he slowly starts to back out of the room, like If he did it slowly enough, you wouldn’t have even noticed he was there in the first place.

You frown, noticing how his wide eyes are growing glossy. “Zuku, are you okay?”

Even Bakugo is taken aback by how he’s acting as he grumbles, “The fuck are you talking bout, nerd?”

“I’m fine,” he says with a small smile, but the way his bottom lip trembles betrays him. “I-I should go!”

The minute Izuku bolts out of where he came from, you turn to Bakugo in confusion.

“What the fuck was that?”

Bakugo isn’t looking at you; rather, he’s looking down at how your knees are touching; he’s looking at how close together you two are currently sitting. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“We are all up in each other's personal space,” he says while slowly lifting his head up to look at you.

When he looks at you, all you can say is “Oh,” because you immediately realize just how close the two of you are, your noses about to touch.

He rolls his eyes as he pushes your face away from him. “Yeah oh.”

“Oh fuck,” you exclaim panickedly now that everything’s clicked, “What do I do?!”

“Go after him!”

“And do what?”

Bakugo stares at you in utter disbelief before his face scrunches up into a scowl and barks, “Confess dumbass!”

You blink a few times and frown. “But our plan—“

“Fuck our plan,” Bakugo interrupts you impatiently. “Now you have to improvise and go tell that dumbass that you’re in love with him and that there’s nothing between us.”

You shake your head, staring at Bakugo in fear. “I don't think I can do this—“ 

“Oh no,” he says sternly, shaking his head. “You’re gonna fucking do this. I’ll drag you outside if I fucking have to.”

“Bakugo,” you plead.

He glares at you, speaking through clenched teeth, “Go. Run. After. Him. Now. Or. I. Will. Make. Your. Life. A. Living. Hell.”

“Again?” You tease him in hopes that it’ll distract him from forcing you to confess, because although you want to, you didn’t want it to happen like this. Though your efforts are futile because Bakugo does not budge.

“Y/N. I swear to fucking god.”

“Fuck fine!” You groan as you stand up, pointing down at Bakugo as you mumble, “But if this goes terrible, I’m blaming you.”

Bakugo slaps your finger away. “Get the fuck out of my face and go serenade the nerd.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

December 10th, 20XX | 12 years old

You and Izuku are sitting on a random bench, huddling for warmth as you wait for the train to arrive. Truthfully, this wouldn’t have been so bad if the two of you were still friends with Bakugo; his body temperature was always the highest out of the three of you, making it extremely easy to use him to warm up in the cold, but once middle school hit, something changed in Bakugo. Popularity and his ego got to him, and now the boy you two once considered a friend was nothing more than a bully on most days, and today was one of those days. You and Izuku side-eye each other and sigh the minute you hear a familiar scoff behind you.

“Fucking extras, hogging the bench.”

Izuku looks like he wants to say something, but you shake your head and place your hand on top of his. Izuku smiles softly at you, and it makes your cheeks warm—wait, what? That doesn’t happen. It’s probably just Bakugo’s body heat radiating off of him, that’s all.

“Oh, look, the nerd needs someone to calm him down, as if. The fuck are you gonna do?” Bakugo sneers.

You know he’s trying to egg Izuku on, but before you can try to say anything to calm Izuku down, he’s already pulling himself away from you and turning to face Bakugo. You quickly copy his actions.

“What’s your problem?” Izuku asks as flatly as he can, trying to show Bakugo that he’s not afraid of him, and he’s not. Not when you’re here, at least.

Bakugo takes a step closer toward Izuku, and you're on high alert, ready to step in between them if need be.

“You’re my fucking problem,” he says, poking a finger harshly into Izuku’s chest. “And that fucking extra too,” he quickly adds on, briefly glaring at you before looking back to Izuku.

You barely have time to respond, blink, or comprehend what’s happening when suddenly Izuku swings and strikes Bakugo. Bakugo's hand quickly touches his cheek where Izuku just hit, his mouth slightly agape, and you're afraid he’s going to retaliate, but he doesn’t. Time seems to come to a lull. Bakugo is staring at Izuku in shock, his hand still on his cheek. It's like he’s frozen under Izuku’s gaze. Izuku is glaring at Bakugo, his chest heaving with every deep breath he takes, and you can't take your eyes off him.

Something swirling deep in your gut makes it feel like someone's in there trying to make balloon animals out of your insides, and it's a horrible feeling—maybe not the feeling itself, but why you feel that way. You aren't sure if it's fear, amazement, or love—maybe a combination of all three, actually. All you know for sure is that watching Izuku punch Bakugo and stand up to him awoke something in you, and whatever it is, you want it to go back to sleep. Your reverie is interrupted by Bakugo spitting out some blood, barely missing you and Izuku, before scowling at the two of you and walking away.

“Holy shit, Zuku-“ you begin but quickly stop when you notice him trembling. You quickly grab him by the shoulders and practically manhandle him into looking at you. “Hey- Zuku?” 

“I-I didn't mean to do that,” he confesses, his wide, wet eyes locked on yours.

“Hey, it's fine,” you say softly, cupping his cheek into one of your hands.

Izuku shakes his head softly while leaning into your touch at the same time. “I didn't even care that he said I was his problem—but he brought you into it, and I don't know—I don't know what happened—I just... I didn't want him talking like that to you.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

You know now.

Know that whatever just woke up inside you will not go back to sleep anytime soon.

It won't go back to sleep ever, actually.

That feeling in your gut was love. and the other two, sure, but mostly love.

You love Izuku.

You’re in love with Izuku.

You love Izuku so much that you can't help but tear up at the realization as you bring your other hand up to his cheek, fully engulfing his face.

Izuku panics at the sight of your now glossy eyes, which are perfectly matching his.

“y-y/n! Why are you crying? Are you okay? Did-did I do something wrong?”

“No!—“ you can’t help but let out a shaky laugh while tears freely run down your face—"No, Zuku, you didn't do anything wrong at all.”

He wipes away your tears and frowns skeptically. “Then why are you crying?”

“I just—I just really love you, Izuku.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Present day | 19 years old

You run outside of the dorm buildings, met with an open campus, people walking around here and there as you turn your head every which way, hoping for just a speck, a hint, an image of curly green hair, but you can't find it, can't find him, and it makes your heart clench painfully. You groan loudly, ignoring how people side-eye you in confusion.

“Shit—if I were Zuku, where would I go? Where the fuck would I go?”

You stand there for a few moments, dragging your hand down your face in utter defeat, just trying to figure it out. It shouldn’t take you this long; it really shouldn't. Had you asked yourself this on any other day in any other instance, you would have been able to answer it immediately, but your head is hazy, it's smoky, and it's suffocating. like if you don't tell Izuku and put out the forest fire that are the words “I love you,” you'll suffocate to death in its smoke. Suddenly you feel a tap on your shoulder, quickly turning on your heels to face whoever it is.

“Hey dude, you ok?”

“Kiri! Yeah- yeah, I'm good. Um, what's up?”

Kirishima narrows his eyes at you, confused at your reaction, but doesn't bother saying anything about it. “Oh! I just got done with music lessons and was actually about to go get Bakugo from your dorm.”

“Oh my god,” you say in shock, like you've just had a life-changing epiphany, and technically you have, or at least it feels like it. “Music lessons... The music room! Kirishima, you're a genius! I love you so much, if Bakugo ever does anything to you, I'll kill him. I owe you!”

“What?” Kirishima chuckles nervously, but you’ve already started running toward your destination, and Kirishima is forced to call out an awkward, “Oh, um, okay, bye!”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

You're running to the music room like your life depends on it, and you’re sure if your high school PE teacher could see you right now, they would be impressed beyond belief. You get to the building in record time, borderline panting as you enter, but your steps don't slow; no, they won't; they refuse to until Izuku is right in front of you. You swing open the door, and Izuku jolts at the noise. Standing in the doorway, you can't help but notice how he frantically wipes at his face, trying to erase any evidence of him crying just mere seconds before. The sight makes your heart break, and you take a step toward him only for your legs to give out on you completely—fuck, you should probably run more if just this turned your legs into jelly. Izuku is now the one who rushes to your side as you fall to your knees.

“y/n!” He kneels down in front of you, his hands moving around frantically, like he wants to put them somewhere on you but isn’t sure if he should. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Are you?” You ask through heavy breaths, trying to still your racing heart, though you know that won't happen. Once your heart stops racing from the running, it will race for Izuku; it always races for Izuku. like he’s the very blood that keeps your heart beating.

His voice trembles as he asks, “Me?”

You take a deep breath to prepare for the shout you give when exclaiming, “Yes, you!”

“What did I do?”

“You ran out, Izuku!”

he frowns. “I said I was sorry!”

“No,“ you shake your head, “you said you were sorry for interrupting!”

“Exactly!” Izuku lets his head drop back and stares up at the ceiling as he groans in slight frustration.

You scowl at the fact that he’s no longer looking at you, and before you can stop yourself, you grab his face, your fingers squishing his cheeks as you force his head back down to stare at you. “You weren't interrupting anything.”

“But—“ he mumbles, his voice slightly muffled by the way you're squeezing his cheeks so hard that his lips pucker.

“Why?”

Izuku stares at you in confusion as he takes your hand off his face so he can actually speak properly. “What?”

You swallow harshly, trying to ignore how his hand is lingering on yours. “Why did you run out?”

He sighs and retracts his hand from yours, placing it back down in his lap, and you almost feel like you’ve made a mistake somewhere, like you’ve said or done the wrong thing. “Why did you run after me, y/n?”

“Izuku.”

“y/n.”

“Please tell me why you ran out,” you plead softly, slowly inching your hand back to his face. “What do you think you saw?”

His gaze flits down to your hand before he grabs it and brings it up to his cheek, too impatient to wait for you to get it there yourself, leaning into your touch as he sighs. “I know what I saw.”

You rub your thumb against his cheek soothingly as you softly demand, “Then tell me what you saw.”

Izuku looks away, and he cranes his head to the opposite side of your hand, as if he’s now trying to get away from your touch. You don’t try to fight it, although it hurts a lot. You accept it, letting your hand drop back down to your side, and pretend like you don’t feel like whatever he’s about to say will hurt you beyond belief.

“You—you and Kacchan were about to kiss, or did kiss—one or the other.”

You blink at him. Oh, that didn’t hurt. At all, actually. In fact, you find yourself clamping your hands over your mouth, trying to stifle a laugh, but to no avail; you're laughing like Izuku just told you the world's greatest joke, but he obviously does not find this as funny as you do, and your laughing has Izuku staring at you wide-eyed, absolutely mortified.

“Why are you laughing?!” 

You collect yourself with a deep breath before smiling at him as you mumble, “Oh my god, Izuku, you are such an idiot, it's almost endearing.”

“What?” His eyebrows knit together and his nose scrunches up as he frowns, but his scrunched-up face trembles, like he’s trying really hard to seem mad or like he’s truly scowling. "Y/N, that's mean! I mean, I knew you two had something going on, but just because I finally walked in on something happening doesn't mean you get to-“

You know better than anyone that once Izuku starts rambling, it's near impossible to get him to stop verbally. You've always had to flick him or something along those lines to get him to stop, and suddenly you realize this has given you the perfect opportunity to do something you've only dreamed about doing each and every time this has happened before. You can't help the smile that's on your face as you quickly lean in and grab Izuku’s face, kissing him, which immediately and effectively shuts him up like you had hoped. Much to your dismay, Izuku is the first one to break the kiss, and he pulls back just enough for you to see the flush on his face, and his eyes are the size of saucer plates as he looks at you in complete disbelief.

“What?” His voice cracks as he asks again, this time louder in complete shock as everything has finally processed in his head, “What?!”

You laugh under your breath as you grab him by the back of his head and pull his head in toward yours, butting your foreheads together. “Not to be cheesy, Zuku, but hell will freeze over before I ever kiss someone who isn't you.”

“Huh? But—I thought—“

You shrug with a small smile on your face as you lean back on your palms. “You thought wrong, Izuku.”

He places a finger on his chin and looks away as he thinks aloud, “Wait, but then—does that mean you like me?”

“No.”

“No?!” his head whips toward you, and his voice trembles against his will as he exclaims, “But you just kissed me!”

You roll your eyes before sitting up straight and leaning toward him, and Izuku can’t find it in him to pull away from you, slightly hoping you’ll kiss him again even if you just said you don’t like him.

You tuck a few of his curls behind his ear, cooing, “I'm in love with you, Izuku.”

“Oh,” he says, pausing. “Oh!!”

You pull your hand away awkwardly. “You know this is usually the part where you reject me or not?…”

“Oh right!“ Izuku grabs your hands with his before continuing, “I'm in love with you too!”

You briefly glance down at your intertwined hands before you look back up at him. The minute your eyes meet, you feel your throat go dry, having to force out a response: “Wait, really?”

“Yeah! Why do you think I ran out?” He laughs softly and gives your hand a small squeeze as he teases, “And no offense, but you're kinda oblivious; I'm really not that subtle.”

you frown. “Well, I could say the same about you!” You pause and think for a moment. “Wait, why the fuck did you even think me and Bakugo had a thing? or that I liked him? Literally, what could ever give you that impression, Zuku?”

“Oh, um,“ he looks away sheepishly as he confesses, “I've kinda… thought that since we were seven?”

“What?!” You stare at him incredulously, eyes so wide they’re giving his naturally saucer-plate-esque eyes a run for their money. “What the hell happened when we were seven to make you think that?!” 

He starts tentatively, “Uhm, you kinda like, called Bakugo amazing after he jumped off those rocks we used to climb, but he ate shit and wasn't bothered?” He clears his throat, like what he’s about to say next will make everything click in your brain and make you agree that the reason he thought that makes complete sense. “And not to mention that was like minutes after I realized I was in love with you?…”

“Izuku Midoriya.” 

He avoids your gaze and instead focuses on your intertwined hands.

“You thought I was in love with Bakugo this whole time because I called him amazing when we were seven?” You ask in a combination of being slightly miffed and in complete disbelief.

He groans and innocently looks back up at you through his lashes. “Okay, well, when you say it like that—“

You cut him off with a small huff and butted your foreheads together once more, murmuring, "Oh my god, you’re an idiot.”

He hums and nods against you. “Yeah, but now I'm your idiot.”

You can’t help the smile that practically splits your face in two as you scatter kisses over his flushed, freckled painted cheeks.

“Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[iphigeniainaulis]

Background paintings in Ikevamp and why they matter

...even if you are not familiar with art.

Warnings: minor spoilers for all routes, though I tried to keep it as vague as possible

Time to talk about background paintings in Ikemen vampire because…why not?

First, let me warn you that the following is nothing but a theory based on some visual resemblance. While it may occur that Ikemen designers wanted to hide a few Easter eggs, it's also fair to mention that sometimes the sky is blue just because it's Sunday morning, and that’s all. 

Nevertheless, one detail may hint at the former statement being true. And this is because there’s a significant difference in how different paintings are shown in the game. 

Some of them are blurry, overdark or too bright. While we can distinguish some unclear silhouettes, the rest is on our imagination.

For example, it seems that the first picture is the natural landscape (probably, sunset in the forest) as well as the second one with the Ionic style columns being placed in the center of a garden. Still, we’re not sure.

But the thing is it doesn’t matter. The amount of details the viewer is given is too small for us to make any art-historical assumptions. Based on these mere images we can figure out neither the artist who painted them nor the narrative. Therefore, these paintings have only a secondary function of background decorations and proof of demonstration of their owner’s wealth. 

On the contrary, there are paintings that we can easily detach because their creators are too famous to be unfamiliar with. But even within this scope of paintings there is a slight differentiation due to the way they are incorporated in the game design. 

Some of them have been revived by the hands of geniuses who once created them. This is the case of Leonardo’s Study of a woman’s head and Study of Hands

 or Vincent’s Sunflower and the Olive trees

While it’s easy to reduce the meaning behind this design decision to simple hype, I think that it also serves as a visual representation of the suitors' character traits. What is the point of redrawing the painting that was already brought to life a long time ago? For Vincent it means years, for Leonardo - centuries. My guess is that for artists like them it's never enough. Life is too beautiful to be captured once and forever. A woman’s face is never a mystery solved. While for many people it’s okay to achieve a goal and forget about it the exact minute they are done, for geniuses like Leonardo and Vincent it’s always different. You must improve. You have to work further. There is always something new an artist’s eye can capture. That’s why they painted it again, again and again. 

Let's move to another group of paintings. Spotting The Starry Night in Theo’s room is not a surprise because we know that, first of all, they’re brothers with Vincent, and, secondly, Theo is an art dealer.

What deserves to be brought into focus is that this work is regarded as the elder Van Gogh’s magnum opus. Sure, you can argue that the real Theo and Vincent thought little of this painting, calling it “a failure”. To which I reply that, again, this is a game for numerous people across the world, including those who are not familiar with art history. For many of us The Starry Night is viewed as one of the most popular art works, a special work, a valuable one. Therefore, by omitting historical accuracy Ikemen writers and designers try to achieve something more contributing to the plot - they try to evoke certain emotions. Putting the art of such great significance in the room of one of the brothers should be a clear indicator of the amount of respect and love the two of them share. Describing the emotional bond between them is mainly the prerogative of writers. But sometimes game design plays no less if not more meaningful role in the process of us as readers getting familiar with characters. The painting here becomes a subtle part of the plot as it highlights certain prerequisites of their relationship and prepares us for what is going to come next.

The latter is especially relevant to Vlad's route. The female portrait in the pureblood’s room is what takes background paintings in Ikevamp on a fundamentally new level - the level of plot-forming core.

Unlike those paintings I mentioned at the beginning, these ones are no longer a substitute for the room decor. Instead, they serve as a device that pushes the plot forward. It accumulates three major points that are relevant to the plot:

It adds the mystery element for triggering our curiosity. The portrait is ‘faceless’, and even though we all see the resemblance in features, there is this ‘if’ element. What if they decided to go with a classical Dracula plot? Eternal vampire loses his lover and waits for her to be reborn? Is this MC? Why can’t he remember her face?

The portrait itself allows us to get for a second into Vlad’s head and understand his feelings towards the mysterious woman. Vlad drawing her portrait is caused by the act of kindness she showed him. His entire motivation is connected to the single painting. She was the one who he wanted to be with. In order to do so, he had to become strong, to accept his tragic loss and move forward. The portrait serves as a silent reminder about what was his goal and why he chose the path he chose. 

It circulates the narrative. At the beginning, MC faces the challenge of being the third one in the relationship with Vlad and his unknown lover. She questions the identity of that unknown counterpart of hers and secretly wants to learn more about her. By revealing the truth of Vlad’s past and their connection, MC figures out who was the woman in the painting which in some way pushes her to find enough strength for making a certain groundbreaking decision. 

Finally, there is the third group of paintings that possess what I call ‘potential meaning’. These paintings maintain the main features of the two previous groups, namely, vague silhouettes combined with a rather clear narrative that somehow increases the possibility of them being more than a decorative object.

Take a look at the two paintings in Vincent’s room. In comparison to all other paintings these ones differ not only in terms of shape but also in terms of color. The lines seem to be more fluid, and the color palette is dominated by ochreous, blue and black which is typical for East Asian classical ink art. By taking a closer look, you can actually see the vague outlines of the sea and shrouded in mist mountains in the background. Personally to me such landscapes together with a specific composition angle remind of Hokusai’s Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji which can be a great allusion to Van Gogh’s obsession with Japanese prints and their role in his artistic career. 

The huge painting in Comte’s living room has been haunting me for years, I shall admit. It portrays a marine landscape with a single boat chasing the wild waters in the dark or right before the sunrise. When talking about marine art, the first person that comes to my mind is Ivan Aivazovsky. Yet, it is evident that Aivazovsky’s style was pure romanticism with heavy realistic elements, whereas this painting looks like it's more about light and colores rather than clear and precise lines. And also this sun, this strange orange sun..that can be spotted only in Claude Monet's Impression. Sunrise. 

The mansion’s copy is a darker mirrow image of the original work. Nobody knows why Comte chose this painting for the mansion, but isn’t it a bit of irony that the painting that praises France, the country that suffered from the war with Prussia and was on its way to revitalisation, is located in the house that is about to face the battle between the lesser vampires and their haunters or rather the figurative war of two different morals (we are yet to know about it, though)?

Another version is that the painting serves as a metaphoric description of the character. In various routes MC mentions how Comte reminds her of the sun that made manifest, and everything supports this claim to be true, from his golden eyes and hair, to the brightness of the room and..paintings that symbolize the master of the mansion.

Finally, I wouldn't forget about the massive backlash Impressionists had to face at the early stage of the movement’s existence. It was only until the 5th Impressionist exhibition in 1880 that the artists finally got praised by critics. Just a bit more than 10 years before the MC’s appearance. However, we know that the creation of the mansion had taken place before this event. So, my point is that probably Monet’s painting was purchased by the greater vampire during the times when Impressionists were still harshly criticized by the Salon. And if so, the display of the painting that represents the les misérables of the art world speaks so much volume about Comte’s character and devotion to fulfill what he perceives as his noblesse oblige - to support those in need, to help them reveal their talent no matter what social class they belong to. 

The game room’s central painting is another amusing detail as it’s completely out of mood. Playing cards, watching chess games or taking any other light leisure activity with a glass of brandy in your hand, you rarely expect to raze your gaze from the table only to stare at the image of ruins. Yet, this is what we get here - a typical capriccio painting like those of Alessandro Salucci and Leonardo Coccorante.

Capriccio artists dared to do something new in the history of art - they put real archeological signs into fantasy surroundings, sometimes from the same time period that the artists lived in. To an extent, they brought the ancient past and allowed it to live in the future, which is not a bad allusion to the original purpose of the mansion’s creation.  

And here is what we can spot in Shakespeare’s room. At first, I didn't think much about this painting in Will’s bedroom but something felt odd. And then I understood. 

You see, there’s this famous Vincent’s work named Cafe Terrace at Night. The painting is created from the north eastern corner that allows us to see the starry night without facing an obstacle in the form of the cafe's roof. 

But this is how the modern cafe looks from a different perspective. Yellow elongated building with two wide niches that serve both as windows and entrance. 

Do you see it, right? RIGHT?

I headcanon that Vincent was so eager to spoil his new friend with a present that he decided to redraw his favorite work and  give it to the bard. But being an empathetic and observant one, Vincent immediately figured out Will’s admiration of everything unique and rare, so he decided to create a completely new version of his own painting instead of just redrawing it from the same angle as he did with sunflowers. 

Aaand this is what we get in the living room. Random at first sight, the composition of various unrelated pictures actually makes sense. The most evident one is, of course, the image of theater curtains. What else should we expect to see in the manor of the great Bard of Avon? The same curtains, by the way, appear in almost every scene where MC and her suitor are invited to Shakespeare’s play.

Just a small detail, but I think this is one of those rare occasions when we can actually name the place Ikemen writers took inspiration from (apart from, of course, Louvre and the University of Paris). What helps us here is the curtains over which we spot golden metal lambrequin with a cartouche that imitates the image of the sun.

Such a prolonged lambrequin with the sun image (in honor of Louis XIV, the Sun King and also the father of the Paris Opera) in the center actually exists only in one Parisian theater - Opera Garnier, where in 1888 Shakespeare’s  Roméo et Juliette was staged.

Just to make sure, look at the curtains in some of the most popular theaters that existed during the historical period in Ikevamp -  Théâtre du Châtelet or the Opéra-Comique. You won't find a similar one.

Two last possible Easter eggs may be related to the two historical objects that existed during Shakespear’s era. The first one is still connected to the curtains for as you see, there were rumors (modern archeological findings prove them to be true) that the first venue of Shakespeare’s plays was called ‘the Curtain Theatre’.

And the second thing I want to point at is two images of the chair. Honestly, I highly doubt that a person like Will who has an almost narcissistic obsession with expensive staff would put a painting of such low value in his private apartment. But I can understand it, if this is not an image of  some random piece of furniture but the well-known Shakespeare’s Courting Chair, wherein, according to William Henry, ‘the bard was used to sit, during his courtship, with his Anne upon his knee’. 

Anyway, I hope it wasn't too much. Thank you for reading!

[e-dubbc11]

“I could just use a hug.” With Billy, please? ;) 🩶🩷 You know me, I love the fluff. 😂

Hello my dear friend! Thank you so much for sending this in. Now I know you and I both love fluff but I went with hurt/comfort/fluff with this one. I hope that’s ok and I hope you like what I did here. 💜💜💜

‘Til Valhalla

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Hurt, comfort, fluff, mentions of suicide, PTSD, nightmares

Word Count: 1.4K-ish

Summary: Billy’s processing his grief after burying one of his own. You’re there with him to try and help however you can.

A/N: Today is America’s birthday, July 4th, and even though it’s not Veterans Day or Memorial Day, I wanted to say that for those of us in the United States, it’s because of members of our armed services that we have the freedoms to do and say what we want. So I humbly ask you, if you have the opportunity today or any day for that matter, thank a service member or a veteran for the freedoms that you have. They deserve it more than anyone 🇺🇸♥️🤍💙

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The biting winter air burned in your lungs as you reached for Billy’s hand and laced your gloved hands together. You both were standing by the freshly turned soil close to the headstone of the fallen marine he had once served with and later employed.

It was blind luck that the ground wasn’t frozen over yet and they were able to dig his final resting place. The dirt and grass were dry and faded as the leftover leaves crunched under your black leather boots while the branches above swayed and creaked in the raw wind.

Billy had cleaned and shined his shoes this morning just like he did every morning but he did it in silence with a clenched jaw and rigid posture. You missed his smile, that million dollar Billy Russo smile he flashed you at least fifteen times a day had been missing from his face ever since he took that phone call a week ago while you were having dinner.

You couldn’t blame him. No one could but you didn’t know what kind of comfort he wanted or needed from you so you kept quiet, gently touched his shoulders, kissed him on the cheek, and told him you loved him.

The lone blemish on the wall was the dent and cracked paint from where his phone crashed against it after hearing the news. Frank tried to break it to him as gently as possible but it didn’t matter, Billy exploded anyway. His strangled screams echoed throughout the penthouse and could probably be heard by the people on the floors below you.

Shards of glass from his dinner plate lay broken on the hardwood floor under the dining room table while you sat there speechless and with a heavy heart trying to figure out what to say.

“Just tell me, Frankie!” He yelled brokenly into the phone.

Billy thought Wilcox had been doing well. Billy gave him a job, a purpose after they served together, and a way to stay close with the team he served with but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to keep the nightmares away, or to keep his PTSD and depression from taking over.

It didn’t stop him from locking the doors, putting on his dress uniform, and taking his own life. It happened to veterans more often than it should and Billy tried to do as much as he could to make sure his team had tools at their disposal to try and make each day easier than the previous one.

But sometimes that pull was just too strong. You could only imagine the gnawing grief and guilt surviving veterans felt after returning from overseas.

The questions they must constantly ask themselves and how, more than likely, they’re just never the same after that. But it didn’t stop Billy from trying to help his fellow combat veterans. He told them they weren’t useless and they could still do some good after coming home. They could still serve, still have a purpose and show them that it wasn’t for nothing.

Billy gave them a chance and an opportunity but sometimes it just wasn’t enough. There was still something missing.

And now, long after the funeral service had concluded, long after everyone had gone home and went their separate ways, it was just you and Billy left standing in silence. He had a lingering sadness in his eyes and his cheeks were flamed with anger as he tightly gripped your hand.

You wondered what he was thinking about, if anything at all and you tried to decide whether or not to say anything to him. You opted to just squeeze his hand and rest your head against his arm.

You had learned to be patient with Billy and he would talk when he was ready, which you hoped would be soon.

The silence on the ride home was deafening. There was no music or conversation, just the sound of the engine humming along and the traffic outside.

One corner of your mouth turned up into a slight smile when he reached for your hand in the car with his hand trembling slightly as it closed over yours.

Once inside the elevator, Billy began to loosen his tie and he unbuttoned the top buttons on his crisp white dress shirt.

You knew he’d never wear that shirt or tie again.

Your fingers were still cold and numb from being outside for so long. They were taking forever to warm up so you decided to make some tea and then you could warm your hands on the mug.

Billy sat with his eyes fixated on the dent in the wall, his long agile fingers scratched at the bristles of his beard as he took a deep breath and let out a long exhale.

The low sounds of the water churning and bubbling inside the tea kettle echoed throughout the penthouse and stopped suddenly when you filled his cup and it started to boil again when you set it down on the hot burner. After placing the mug in front of him, you turned to walk back to the kitchen for yours when he grabbed your wrist.

“Seventeen.” Whispered Billy.

You turned to face him but his gaze was directed down at the floor.

“Seventeen what, baby?” You asked.

Billy brought his gaze up to meet yours.

“Before today, I had been to 17 funerals.” He said with a hitch in his voice and a desolate look in his eyes.

You dropped to your knees so you could be eye level with him.

“Oh Billy…I can only imagine what this is like for you, burying your friends like this, I…I just wish I knew what to say. I wish I could take your pain away and put it someplace where you won’t feel it.” You said softly.

A sob rose in your throat and your eyes shined with unshed tears.

“But I can’t and I am so so sorry, baby. I know you process things like this in your own way but is there anything I can do? Anything?” You asked.

A slight smile stretched across his lips and his shoulders relaxed as he replied, “I could just use a hug…my sweet girl.”

You rose to your feet and pulled his head into your chest, held him tightly as your fingers raked through his raven colored hair and he snaked his arms around your torso. Billy squeezed you so tightly, you thought you heard your back crack as he let out a long exhale. You could feel his warm breath travel through the fabric of your shirt and forcefully hit your skin.

In his own way, Billy was starting to process his grief and you would hold him for as long as he needed you to. You knew he was grateful he didn’t have to go through this alone.

For a long time, he was scared that he would become just another statistic, a number on a piece of paper but he made a choice. Billy chose to be better and not feel sorry for himself even though it was easier to make excuses because of what happened to him as a child. It was easy to give into those inner demons that are always there and blame others, but Billy was a fighter, he was strong, and he would never give up.

He still had nights when the nightmares nearly suffocated him while he slept and the crushing grip they had over him where he kept trying to swim for land but he wasn’t getting any closer to shore. Those nights where he was strangled by his own screams broke your heart but you were never far away and you were able to soothe him, comfort him, and tell him that he was ok.

Wilcox’s nightmare was over but he would never have another one. He would never have another chance to have a better day after a rough night or to talk about it with fellow veterans that also struggled just like he did.

“Maybe if he had someone like you, baby. Maybe he’d still be here.” Said Billy.

Moving a stray hair that had tumbled into his eyes, you then sat down in his lap and continued to rake your nails against his scalp.

You kissed him on the forehead, smiled, and replied, “You give me too much credit, my love. I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“You’ll never know how much you’ve helped me, sweet girl. Life was a lot harder before you. I need you to know that.” He said, looking into your eyes.

Billy wiped the tracks of your tears away from your cheeks, inched closer to your face, and gently pressed his lips to yours.

As you brushed the bristles of his beard with your thumbs, you smiled and said, “I’ll always help you, Billy. I love you.”

“I love you too, beautiful.” He said. “And…thank you.”

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @fakehappy27 @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @fictional-hooman @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @nutmeg17 @k-marzolf @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @aoi-targaryen @rachlovesactors

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[gaybananabread]

Ooh Lego Monkie Kid? Don't mind if I do!

Do you have any headcanons for the Stonefruit Trio (MK, Wukong, and Macaque)?

⁠☆⁠—⁠⁠LMK Stonefruit Trio Tkl Headcanons—⁠☆

~Sorry this took me so long to get to! School is finding new ways to kick my ass every day istg- ANYway, it felt good to write for these goobers again! Thank you for requesting!~

🍜Mk🎧

General:

Sunshine boy is definitely a big fan of tickles. Laughing at just a few touches, bonding with his friends, watching them let their walls down for the sake of silly happiness? Yeah, count him in.

He likes both sides, though being tickled does have a special place in his heart. He’s a lee-leaning switch, but not by a whole lot.

He can only say the t-word on special occasions (extreme confidence, other lers/lees in it with him, drunken boldness). 98.71% of the time, he’ll go beet red at the attempt.

Lee:

When he gets lee moods, everyone around him will know. He can sometimes just ask for help if it’s someone who’s used to his silliness, like Red Son or Mei, but other than that, it’s tacit signals.

He’ll run a hand through his hair a lot (exposing his side in the process), get way more fidgety than normal, speak in a higher pitch, and very nonchalantly stare at his friends’ hands. Not that hard to get the message.

Kicks, flails and squirms when tickled. He really tries not to, but his nerves pretty much go nuts. It’s best to pin him or get him from behind if you don’t want an accidental bloody nose.

Worst spots are his navel and lower back. He absolutely loses it whenever anyone so much as pokes there.

Melt spots are his palms and shoulders. Tickly massages and palm kisses leave him a puddle of giggles.

Really bright and bubbly laughter when you get him going. When it’s light, lots of little squeaks and half-hearted “no!”s

Ler:

Sickly sweet while also a teasing mother-trucker. If you think that’s confusing, imagine how the lee feels-

The sunshine boy definitely has a fiery side, so watch out

“You’re ticklish here too? Seriously, this is adorable. You’re adorable.”

“Holding it in, huh? I think it’d feel a bit nicer if you let out that laughter. Don’t you?

“So many good spots, so little time… Guess I gotta get to work!”

“Your blush is so pretty! I think I’m gonna paint my nails that color…”

He’s incredibly considerate of boundaries, even if you’re obviously okay with it.

Checks in wherever you seem to be laughing a bit too hard, though you’ve only just got done giggling. It’s smart to set up a safeword so he actually does know when to keep going.

Confident lees will love him. He’s easy to fluster if you can say the t-word enough times, and he nearly dies if someone confidently asks him to tickle them.

An aftercare master. He makes whatever your favorite drink is, gets snacks, makes a cuddle nest and just hangs out with you. If you’re not big on touch, he’s fine to just watch some YouTube videos and chill out.

🍑Sun Wukong☀️

General:

We can all agree that he’s a straight-up switch. Loves wrecking people, adores being reduced to a giggly puddle of mush.

However, he refuses to admit any of that

He likes the feeling of being vulnerable around his friends, but the thought of saying that is terrifying for him (again, good luck getting him to say that. The great Monkey King allegedly has no fear)

Lee:

He’s giggling like crazy before you even touch him.

If you even give a small hint of what you’re gonna do, get ready for him to run.

When you do catch him (he will eventually let you), he curls up like a pill bug and rides it out. If you mention his tail wagging, he’ll let out a string of adorably squeaky profanities.

His actual laugh is a lot less obnoxious than his “Monkey King” one. It’s bright and bubbly, full of squeaks and the occasional snort.

His worst spots are his ribs and his lower back, specifically the base of his tail. Good luck keeping him still if you go there.

Melt spots are his ears and hips. His hips are a bit of an obscure spot, but he will dissolve if you trace them.

Once you’re done wrecking him, he becomes a cuddly, sleepy little mess. Be ready to stay with him for at least an hour afterwards.

Ler:

He’s such a chaos goblin I swear-

Loves the “Tickle Monster” trope. He can and will use his power to make clones of himself and/or shift his appearance for optimum tickle-ability

If he’s the one doing the tickling, he can say the t-word. This is a power he always abuses.

“The Tickle Monster’s gonna getcha, kid! Better run~”

“Oh sorry, couldn’t hear you through all that laughter. Did you say ‘keep going’? Perfect!”

“You know, I could stop, but where’s the fun in that? I think you can agree, can’t ya?”

“Your laugh is so fun! I could listen to it for centuries… But I think I can settle for five more minutes.”

It takes him a bit, but he does try to check in and see when you need a break. It’d be a nice idea to set a safeword or a clear tap-out beforehand, just in case.

He’s actually really good with aftercare. He makes the best lemonade tea, and he’ll attempt to make a good snack. Just watch out for any of his “inventive” cooking/baking methods.

🎭Macaque🏮

General:

He acts like he hates it. If you don't know him all that well, he'll seem genuinely done with it.

If you do know him, however, he has tells. The way his tail twitches when the t-word is said, the way just a hint of pink settles on his cheeks, the way his arms just barely clamp to his sides…

Yeah, he's not as slick as he thinks.

Prefers being tickled most of the time, but he isn't afraid to wreck a bitch just because.

Lee:

He will fight and deny it until the day his immortality runs dry, but he loves it.

Until you actually start, he'll act like he doesn't want it. Kicking, hissing, running, the whole nine.

The minute those wiggling fingers touch down, though? He melts.

All protest disappears, the only thing close being small “no”s through his laughter. His tail will wag adorably (be careful if you mention this).

He could just shadow-travel away, but conveniently “forgot because of the literal torture” he was experiencing or “couldn't focus enough” to do so.

Worst spots are his knees and his back. Him and Wukong share the infamous I-will-die spot at the bases of their tails, though this boy's is significantly worse.

Melt spots are beneath his chin and his ears. It is the cutest thing to just scratch beneath and hear his little purrs while he tries not to giggle.

Ler:

Puts his villain experience to use

He'll use his shadow travel to sneak up on you/cheat in a chase. Nobody said he had to play fair…

He definitely makes clones to help himself. One to hold your arms up, another to grab your legs, and a few to get the more annoying spots.

Teasing in a playful-yet-asshole sorta way. If you're feeling shitty, he'll be such a sweetheart, but he's a shit 80% of the time.

“Wow, ticklish here too? You're just a walking tickle-spot at this point.”

“You think this is bad? Just wait till I call in the cavalry~”

“It must be hard, being this ticklish and all. How have you survived so far? Thought you'd have laughed yourself silly.”

“Just a few little pokes and you're down for the count. Would suck if some of the villains found out…”

“Worst spot, huh? Better buckle up~”

Somehow knows exactly when to stop every time. You don't even have to say anything: he just knows.

Masterful aftercare. He honestly loves cuddling with his lee afterwards, so you're getting some unless you specifically tell him no. He'll send a shadow clone to go get you a drink and some snacks if you want. Peaceful music listening and most likely a nap (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

[xiaq]

Story Time: Top Secret Wedding Dress Project

Ok so B and I have started planning our wedding. We’re going to elope to a fire lookout tower fall of next year and then throw a reception afterward to celebrate with friends/fam. We’re trying to be as fiscally and environmentally responsible as possible, so we're thrifting/diying everything (cake to decor) and my parents are generously allowing us to use their back/side yards to host. I’ve been visiting goodwill every weekend and monitoring FB marketplace like a hawk. Last month, I found a dress. I’m keeping the design a secret from B so Tumblr is going to be my outlet for sharing the slow makeover process.

My end goal is a fitted, floral-embroidered bodice and a big ballroom skirt with a long train. Heart neckline, possibly with mesh straps/sleeves for additional embroidery to spill over.

I found a dress with the perfect silhouette on fb marketplace for $150 (even though it was over $1k new!). The top was a bit big in the bust/straps but otherwise fit me perfectly. I wasn't a fan of the belt or neckline, and it had several stains from being bustled, but I loved it the minute I tried it on (it also has pockets!!).

Here are pics from the fb listing:

The first day I tried it on, and after removing the belt:

Over the last month I removed the belt, padded cups, and underskirt (I’ll replace the underskirt at the end, but cleaning with it attached would have been a nightmare), washed it, slowly got almost all the stains out, and pinned the top into the shape (ish) I was looking for. I also picked up some stretchy organza and some embroidered panels I’m planning to hand paint, as well as some dye and fabric paint.

[ghoultrifle]

mushy may day nine !!!!

prompt: warming them up

characters: aurora & ifrit

word count: 650

summary: aurora tries her luck with a fire ghoul when the heating goes out

below the cut or on ao3 :))

She stands in the doorway of his room, a blanket roughly wrapped around her midriff, caught in the door as it trails behind her. It’s as if she’s been frozen in both time and temperature given how she just stops once the fire ghoul wakes up, rubbing his bleary eyes.

“R-rory?” Ifrit asks, processing the sudden appearance of the new summon in his bedroom. Why his bedroom? “What’s up, pumpkin?”

Through chattering teeth she manages to mumble out an explanation. “Cold, ‘n heating b-broken in the wing,” she stutters. “Can I…?” Her sentence runs off into nothing, her brain subdued by the cold.

“Oh- uh- yeah of course, let me just put on my dressing gown and I’ll be out of your hair.” He scrambles to get out of bed, not even noticing he’s still wearing his I ♡ MILFs boxers. The ghoulette giggles when he turns around to reveal the text on them, the most coherent noise she’s made since arriving at his door.

“No, silly! I want you in the bed too, how else is it going to keep warm? The heating’s fucked everywhere, even in here.” Ifrit goes to touch the radiator and, sure enough, it’s stone cold, much like the walls throughout the Ministry.

Disrobing once more, a confused look still paints his face, “Why me? What’s that little shit Dew up to now, hmm?”

“Nothing! Just everyone else already went to him so I figured you’d be the less popular choice and you have more surface area,” she says cheekily.

“Oh?! So you’re calling me lonely and fat? How lovely!” He teases, smiling wide, striding towards Aurora to pick up bridal style.

She gasps as Ifrit picks her up, cocooning her in the blanket. “Nuh uh! Jus’ saying Dewdrop’s overrated and you’re built like a dorito.” He carries her the short distance to the bed, it’s entirely unnecessary but they both revel in the faux act of chivalry on Ifrit’s part. He knows damn well Aurora is a princess and will treat her like one even if it’s through the lens of a goofy idiot.

The mattress wobbles as Ifrit ungracefully dumps the ghoulette onto his bed. Aurora inspects the plush navy sheets before plumping the accompanying pillows and dragging her finger along the headboard to inspect for dust. “Hmm seems to be up to standard Mr Fritter,” she says sternly, though Ifrit can see the smile building up and threatening to break her character. “I can confirm I will be gracing your bed with my presence today. Thank you for your application to Rory Bed Hog Limited and welcome aboard!” With that, she flops down, pulling the duvet right up to her ears, the blanket she arrived in abandoned.

“Why thank you Ms Rora, we here at Fire Ghoul Incorporated do hope you enjoy your stay. Please let us know of any requirements you may have to make your visit as smooth as possible.”

The ghoulette attempts a reply but they both burst out laughing before she can; her hearty chuckles jostling the bed. Both ghouls take a moment to collect themselves, taking deep breaths and averting their eyes from each other’s gaze because they know the second they look up they’ll crack up again. With one final grounding breath Aurora asks, extending her hand to the fire ghoul, “Join me?”

“My pleasure,” Ifrit replies, enveloping her hand with his and jumping into the bed with her. He pulls up the duvet and blankets, near covering Aurora’s small frame in them.

The room soon warms up as Ifrit begins to purr, Aurora’s hand in his. With the two of them cosy as can be, it’s no time at all before they’re both back asleep, the worries of the day faded as they just exist with each other. Aurora makes a very sleepy note to come visit the friendly giant more often.

[tonberry-yoda]

Comfort - Portgas D. Ace

notes - AHHH IM HERE!! Sorry this took so long, I was really busy this week going to concerts, going to work, stuff at home, and setting up my new room, so chaos has been more than normal for me this week lol. But I am so glad I got to write such a relaxing Ace fic, this was really nice for me to just spill out of my soul! This was also for that poll I did earlier this week! I hope my Ace lovers enjoy this one and have a lovely evening! I love you all, stay super hydrated!

word count - 966

"What are you doing?" Ace laughed, watching you dig in the sand like a dog for the fifteenth time.

"I'm telling you, Ace," you tried to explain. "There's gotta be treasure in this sand. The map says so!" You pointed to a map that was sitting next to you; old and covered in sand.

"Isn't that thing like a billion years old?" He picked up the map and turned it over in his hands a bunch, still not understanding how to read it.

"Maybe it is, but who knows, that treasure could still be here!"

Ace just playfully rolled his eyes and grabbed your arm, pulling you out of the sand. "Come on, babe. Let's just get a hotel for the night and wash up. You got sand in your fingernails."

"Yeah, but it's rich Alabasta sand, so it's fine." you joked, following Ace and taking back your map.

"Still gross though." he teased, running his hand to your lower back and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

The two of you walked for a while to the nearest town, not even realizing how late it had been. When you walked into town, it was pitch black and freezing cold.

Ace shivered and held open the hotel door for you. "Man, it's cold."

"Maybe cuz you always have your nips out, Ace." you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and thanking him for holding the door.

"You leave my nips alone!" he defended, dramatically pressing his hand to his chest.

You turned to him, shocked that would say such a stupid thing in a lobby with people in it, but just rolled your eyes.

He smirked at you and grabbed your hand, getting the two of you a nice room.

Once there, it was like heaven. You slipped off your shoes and threw yourself onto the bed with pure joy painted onto your face.

"Scoot over, y/n," Ace said, clapping his hands together. "Or I'm gonna land on you."

He didn't even give you time to move and instead landed straight on top of you, making you lose your breath for a second before busting into laughter.

"Ace, what the hell?" you said between deep breaths and a little bit of laughter.

"Oh, damn, you were just so cozy looking, I thought you were the bed." He winked at you and hugged around your waist, burying his face in your chest.

"Wait!" You jumped off of the bed, making Ace pout. "Before you go burying your face anywhere, I'm taking a shower. I smell like," you took a whiff of yourself and dramatically fake gagged. "Yeah, I smell like I should probably take a shower."

"Let's save water then," Ace smiled, taking off his hat and already slipping off his shorts to just a pair of boxers. "Lemme take one with you."

You couldn't say no to someone who you loved with all your heart and so happened to be pressing kisses down your neck.

"Fine," you said, pushing his face away. "But you're washing your own hair."

"What?!" Ace exclaimed, pouting. "But I haven't had head scratchies in ages! Not fair."

You turned on the shower, stripped down, and waited for the water to heat up as Ace sat behind you, whistling and reminding you how pretty you were. You blushed, of course, and turned to Ace, smacking him on the bare arm.

"Owie! What was that for? I was calling you pretty!"

"For making me blush." you said, turning away, your face as bright as a tomato at this point.

Ace grabbed your hand and pulled you into the shower, sighing at the warm water. He rubbed your shoulders while you washed your hair and would occasionally whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you washed your body, washing his own self in the process.

You two hadn't had self care like this in forever and it felt nice to just enjoy yourselves for a while. Being on his little boat was stuffy and the last time you had stayed in a hotel as nice as this was when you first joined his crew, which feels like ages at this point.

You looked at yourself in the mirror as you wrapped your towel around you and saw Ace behind you with stupid goo goo eyes. You turned towards him and gave him a peck on the lips before turning back and drying yourself off.

"I'm gonna ask for about six more of those kisses, cutie, so you best be prepared for that." he whispered in your ear before placing a kiss onto it and drying his own self off.

You took one of Ace's shirts that he took and didn't even bother to put on any pants over your underwear as you walked over to the bed, yawning. When you slammed yourself onto the soft mattress, Ace laid right next to you and smiled.

"Can I get another one of those kisses?" he asked nicely.

You obliged and gave him another quick peck.

He pouted and then asked, "Yeah, but longer. Can I give you a kiss this time?"

You thought about it and then smiled with a little nod.

Ace apparently took that as his opportunity to be his hottest self and tilted your chin up and bringing your face as close as possible before pressing a long kiss to your lips that made you hungry for more.

When he pulled away, he smiled at you and you hugged around the back of his neck. Ace rubbed little circles into your back and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too, Ace."

It was nice to get a bit of comfort in a world where you two were always being chased.

~~~~~

one piece masterlist | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[uchihagods]

it’s been ages since i last posted something on here, so i’m back with a tiny little itachi fic i wrote long ago, hope u like it!

calling itachi ‘princess’ in bed drabble under the cut <33 tw: unprotected sex, riding, oral, angst?, i don’t remember what i wrote exactly sorry but that’s pretty much it :)

(not proofread)

—,,

IMPORTANT!… please, feel free to ignore if any of these topics trigger you; read at your own risk!

“What did you just call me?” Itachi opened his eyes carefully. You continued fucking yourself on his cock, your hands gripping the little hairs on his nape.

The delicious friction he was causing in your insides was distracting enough for you to ignore his protests, which wasn’t very funny for your boyfriend who was now furrowing his eyebrows.

“Mhm!” You whimpered the third time his bulbous tip hit the magic button that made you see stars within seconds. God, you couldn’t love his fat dick more. “So. Fucking. Good.”

A pair of beautiful hands squeezed the flesh of your playful hips, dictating a more relaxed pace. You knew him too well, you knew he was close to his release.

—“Is my princess almost there, hm?” You brought up again that one pet name that seemed to trouble him a lot.

He stopped reciprocating your thrusts. You faced him and found a very disturbed Itachi. “Don’t call me that.” Your boyfriend stated seriously.

“Don’t call you what?” You played dumb while grinding against his hardness even though he stayed still like a statue. Your own hands cupped his pretty upset face and kissed his eyelids with tenderness as to try to erase the last sentence of his mind. Teasing him more and more by each passing second. “I’m just enjoying our love session.”

“I am too.” He responded, confused. Was he imagining things now? Could it be possible?

You smiled at him, pecked him and rode him some more. You supported yourself on his thighs to give him a better view of your jumping breasts and wet pussy. Your face contracted in pleasure at the new angle, his cock stimulating uncharted places inside you that made your walls twitch.

Lowering your gaze to where your bodies were connected, you admired the way his whole shaft disappeared in you, half of it reappeared covered in both your juices before it slammed back into your tightness to repeat the process. Again. And again. And once more.

You reached out for his thumb to place it above your aching clit, silently asking for some relief there. Itachi, as always, understood and didn’t take long to fulfill your wishes. He started drawing long circles with his pad, making tiny zigzags forms and not pressing too much on your sensitive bud; just how you taught him to do it. Your boyfriend was a fast learner indeed.

“Such beautiful fingers.” You praised. Not averting your eyes from his painted nails, so meticulously painted it looked perfect. You surrounded his neck with your arms, accommodating your body closer to his. He was still playing with your clit. “My pretty princess.” You tried to kiss him on the lips, but he dodged you successfully by offering his cheek instead. “Hey! What are you doing?”

“Quit it.” He complained. “I don’t like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like it.”

“I do, though.” You whispered. “You’re my princess.”

“Stop.” He pleaded when you resumed your movements, grabbing each side of your hips.

“No!” You nearly screamed the moment you felt him slipping out of you. “Don’t you want to fuck me anymore?” You sat on him again, almost too harsh.

“It’s softening, Y/N.” Itachi noticed your watering eyes, he couldn’t help feeling guilty now. But, what was that all about, anyway? “Of course I desire you, my love. More than anything.“ He clarified first. “It’s that stupid name.”

“Princess?”

“Yes.” Your boyfriend closed his eyes forcefully. “None of that, okay?”

You pouted. “No.” Before he could protest, you sealed your last word with a long, passionate kiss. You shoved your tongue into his cavern, dancing with his once you found it.

You pulled his cock out of you and started pumping it to make it hard again, caressing his reddened tip with your thumb at the end of each pump. With the help of your bare breasts pressing against his chest, you didn’t take long to have him all prepared for you.

—“Fuck me already, will ya’?” You suggested, looking at him through your eyelashes, and thus, making his member twitch in your hand because of how gorgeous you seemed like that.

He complied, of course. Picking you up by your asscheeks, Itachi laid your body on the bed delicately. He spread your legs wider for him to fit between your meaty thighs, you let scape a loud moan the moment you felt his tongue licking your dripping hole; your fingers found their way to his beautiful, long hair.

You’d thought he was going to fill you up with his cock once again, but you were certainly surprised to have him ravishing your insides with his wet muscle instead. Your legs rested on his wide back while he traced a tiny path from your hole to your throbbing clit as to suck at it hard.

Your boyfriend, knowing you’d come quickly with that simple movement, penetrated you with two of his slender fingers to start moving them rhythmically. Your hips were acting on his own when they suddenly shook at the added stimulation, at that, Itachi used his free hand to squeeze your side tenderly.

“Relax, my love.” He separated a little from your core, “So sweet for me.”

“I want to taste you too…” You cupped his reddened cheek, caressing with your thumb the tender skin there. “Can I, princess?”

He rested his forehead on your belly, “Yes.” He figured that the most reasonable response at this recently discovered tendency of yours was, actually, the lack of one. After all, this was the first time you called him that, and, hopefully, the last one as well. “I’d love that.”

Completely ignoring the mention of that pet name throughout the rest of the night, —which was harder than he expected, and showed to you.— Itachi decided to just enjoy his girlfriend’s mouth and pussy surrounding his throbbing member until he emptied himself on her beautiful face when the pleasure provided by her playful tongue was too much to handle.

In the end, both of you were exhausted as hell; you couldn’t recall when was the last time you felt this sore and tired after having sex with the dark-haired. Don’t get me wrong here, the two of you made love almost every week, and you’d felt like this more often than not, but those sessions were certainly shorter and less rough than tonight’s.

Nevertheless, your caring boyfriend managed to get up after a couple of minutes of panting heavily to hand you a glass of fresh water to hydrate yourself. He too drank from there once you were finished and didn’t want more.

“Cuddle with me.” You did grabby hands like a baby. You were still naked, your nipples all perky and cunt glistening with your release.

Itachi smiled at you tenderly. “Don’t you want to take a shower first?” He asked, approaching your open arms to lay on your body with caution; head resting between your bare, soft breasts; arms hugging your waist, and eyes closed with tiredness.

You shook your head no, “I really want to sleep, baby.”

“Yeah.” He murmured with a hoarse voice. “Me too.”

With that, neither of you didn’t take long to fall asleep in that comfy position. Itachi’s last thought was, —‘apparently, she got over that stupid name. It was just a phase.’— while nuzzling his face in between your breasts.

He wasn’t going to hear that ever again.

Or, at least, that was what he believed.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED ©UCHIHAGODS - DO NOT REPOST, ADAPT OR TRANSLATE MY WORKS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.