#like his signature colour is dark blue

[that-guy-morg]

UHHHHHH UHHHHHHH HEY LOOK MORE AMIR TO DISTRACT YOU FROM THE FACT THAT I HAVEN’T BEEN WORKING ON LORE POSTS HAHAHAHAAHA

LOOK HE’S IN WANO!!!

[wikitpowers]

nail painter!kit come out of ur cage please 🖤

[imthebadguyyy]

the bridgerton blues

pairing : anthony bridgerton x reader

fandom : bridgerton

synopsis : it's the first time after your wedding that anthony sees you sporting the signature bridgerton colour : blue, and it does things to him that he can only express in a much more....physical manner.

warnings : smut, heavy smut and excessive amount of fluff

a/n : i miss my grumpy viscount!!! happy reading :)

anthony huffed impatiently, foot tapping against the marble floor at bridgerton manor.

the season had begun again, and much to his relief, he would only be a spectator this year, having married the love of his life, lady, well, current viscountess y/n, which meant he didn't have to deal with the frills and fancies of the hawk like mama's in the ton, awaiting the right moment to swoop upon him with their daughters.

but by God, you were taking forever to get dressed and come down to leave for lady danbury's ball. beside him, benedict and colin sat, engrossed in a game of chess, while francesca and eloise lounged on the couch in the drawing room, catching up about life.

his mother was with his darling wife, much to his surprise, helping her get ready for a ball. he had been caught off guard when his mother had bustled in, dressed in a powdery blue gown, and had proceeded to shoo him out of the room.

"what exactly is keeping mama and y/n?" colin asked, brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the chess board.

"if I knew I would tell you brother" anthony mumbled, checking the watch that hung on the golden chain from his waistcoat, smiling as he traced the cover, suddenly hit by a burst of nostalgia, and a surge of fondness for his late father.

he brushed it off when a giggling hyacinth came running down the staircase, leaping into his arms, forcing him to rush to catch her, eyes widening in surprise.

"hyacinth! you must always give me a prior warning or I may not be able to catch you" he chided, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and setting her gently on the ground.

"brother!! wait till you see y/n/n!! she looks like a princess!" his youngest sister exclaimed, almost vibrating with excitement. a shy gregory emerged, blushing a little as he nodded, making the three older bridgerton boys smirk, well aware of his little crush on anthony's wife.

when anthony had first befriended his wife, they had been at a mere age of ten, and anthony had rescued y/n when she had fallen off her horse at a picnic with his family and the cowper's.

ever since then, they had been inseparable, joint at the hip and at the heart.

it was of no surprise to anyone in the ton when finally, ages later, he had announced he was marrying the lady montgomery, or as everyone fondly knew her, "y/n/n"

"why so bashful greg?" benedict jested, watching his youngest brother turn a dark crimson.

"n-nothing" he stuttered out, darting in to see his sisters.

"it's because of y/n! I'm telling you brother, she looks like an absolute angel!" hyacinth chirped in, now bouncing about from step to step, just as the door of Anthony's room creaked open, and the dowager viscountess stepped out.

"she's ready" she smiled warmly at her son's, hurrying in to get her daughters to mark the momentous occasion.

brows furrowed, the eyes of the bridgertons rested upon the long winding staircase, awaiting to see what exactly was this magical outfit that had their mother and sister gushing like birds.

and what anthony saw, made his jaw drop to the very ground.

at the very top, his darling wife came into view, hair in sleek, meticulous curls, perfectly cast up in an intricate updo, adorned with pearls, framing her face with the delicate curls. her makeup was subtle, emphasizing her flowing complexion with a touch of rosy blush and wine coloured lips.

she adorned a pearl necklace and matching earrings, gifted to her by anthony himself, adding a timeless elegance to her stature.

but what really caught everyones attention was the dress that she wore, more specifically, the colour of the dress she wore.

a rich dark blue silk gown, carefully tailored, hugged her frame, showcasing the intricate details that add to its allure. the bodice, adorned with delicate embroidery, depicting subtle butterfly motifs that caught the light as the she moved down the stairs. the neckline gracefully framed her collarbone, delicate lace butterflies attached to the neckline,while the sleeves tapered down to her wrists, showcasing more of the exquisite lacework that adorned her body.

the skirt of the gown was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, flowing generously in layers of silk that rustled with each step. the deep, rich hue of the fabric evoked a sense of opulence, reminiscent of midnight skies. as she walked down, the silk caught the light, casting a mesmerizing play of shadows and highlights.

the dress matched anthony's waistcoat perfectly, and the sight was enough to make the viscount choke over nothing.

as he saw his wife adorned in the resplendent dress for the first time, his eyes widened with genuine admiration.

a hushed gasp escaped his parted lips as he took in the sight before him.

his wife, cloaked in the elegance of the dark blue gown, the bridgerton blues appeared to be like a living portrait of timeless beauty.

a warm smile formed on his lips, expressing both surprise and deep appreciation for the grace and sophistication she was emanating.

"my darling" he murmured as he swept forward, extending his arm to welcome you into them.

smiling sweetly at the bridgerton clan, you floated down, linking your arm with anthony's.

"sister, you look utterly perfect in blue!" benedict exclaimed, pressing a delicate kiss to your hand, as violet fondly caressed your cheek.

"doesn't she look like a princess brother?!" hyacinth squealed, looking excitedly at anthony. "just like one out of the fairytales" he said, looking at you with nothing but admiration and love and fondness.

"you really do look utterly regal" colin said, flashing a warm smile at you. eloise and francesca came upto you, with even eloise admitting that the dress you were wearing was nothing short of a work of art, while francesca gushed over how the silhouette was so perfect for you.

"alright, we must leave if we want to reach lady danbury's ball on time!" violet said, clapping her hands, leading her children out to where the carriages awaited.

"wait behind for just a second my love" anthony whispered into your ear, as he walked up to his valet to whisper something into his ear.

slowly, the other bridgertons departed, after you promised them to join them very soon, ignoring the smirks and nudges colin and benedict sent your way.

anthony pulled you into his study, hand gently caressing your waist, feeling the rich silk in his hands, the other hand gently reaching for your chin, lifting it to look into your eyes.

"you look utterly divine my beloved" he whispered fingers gently fondling your face, eyes absorbing every detail of your face, not that he hadn't already memorised it.

"thank you my dear" you whispered back, hands settling on his broad shoulders, taking in his waistcoat as well, the dark blue velvet clinging to every rippling muscle in his body, brass buttons complementing the coat.

"i always knew you'd look stunning in bridgerton blue but....it seems as though the bridgerton blue was crafted for you" he murmured, tightening his grip on your waist, "so stunning that infact, i do not feel the need to leave for lady danbury's ball, for I'd much rather stay here with my breathtakingly beautiful wife" he murmured again, lips ghosting over your own as his hands squeezed your waist, drawing you flush against his body.

"my lord, we cannot... we must be present at the first ball of the season" you lamely protested, heart hammering against your chest as the intoxicating scent of his musky, woodsy cologne filled your nostrils.

anthony dropped his lips to your neck, lips brushing a feather soft kiss to the sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from you.

"what if we do not go? what if we just stay here and...i worship my wife in the way she deserves? like the goddess she is?" he asked, like gently pressing kisses down to your collarbone, still as light as a feather, just enough to ignite something feral in you, but also enough to keep you wanting more.

"my lord it's the first ball of the season, and we have to-"

you were cut off by anthony's lips pressing against yours.

they were soft and plush against yours, pressing perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle, initiating a warm glow in the pit of your tummy.

as your lips met, the sensation was like a feather's gentle caress — soft, fleeting, and subtly warm. it feels like a delicate dance, a tender exploration that sparked a gentle flutter within you. the touch was akin to the brush of downy feathers, teasing and inviting, as if he was testing the waters of intimacy.

yet, as the moment unfolded, a magnetic pull takes hold, drawing you deeper into the realm of passion. the softness transforms, gradually intensifying into a fiery connection. the initial delicacy gave way to a fervent exchange, each kiss building upon the other with a growing hunger.

your lips, once feather-light, were now engaged in a rhythmic and passionate dance. the subtle warmth amplified into a blazing fire, and what began as a gentle exploration evolved into a fervent expression of desire.

the world around you faded and in that heightened connection, every kiss becomes an electric charge, a testament to the undeniable chemistry between your two souls entwined in the artistry of passion.

anthony's hands ran rampant on your body, clutching every part of your body through the silk dress, yet taking care to not scrunch the silk in anyway.

"you have no idea what you do me darling" he growled against your lips, drawing back for just a moment to watch your chest heave and eyes glaze over, hands clutching his coat and cravat so tight he feared you would rip it off.

"every breath you take, every word you speak, the very sound of your melodious voice and the very beat of your heart, all allure me to you, draw me to you like a moth to a flame" he continued, his own heart hammering against his chest.

his chest rose and fell with every word, eyes ablaze with burning passion. "every second of every day, i crave you, i long for you, i need you, and it drives me feral. but the sight of you in my colour makes me want to rip off that very dress off your body, claiming you as mine in more ways than one" he growled, hands scrunching the material on your behind.

"anthony..i crave you every second of the day as well. i need you" you whispered, a soft whimper slipping past your lips.

"hush my sweet darling" he said, sending you a saccharine sweet smile.

then, much to your chagrin, he took his hands off your waist, fixing the material and fixing his own coat.

"now, we must hasten to lady danbury's" he smirked" and you groaned, a painful throbbing between your legs becoming more prominent.

"but my lord-" you protested, only to be cut off by another searing kiss. he kissed you deep and long, and then drew back, pushing a stray curl on your forehead back behind your ear.

"our family awaits dearest" he smiled, and gently led you out to the hall.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the grand ballroom at lady danbury's unfolded into a dazzling spectacle as it embraced the opulence of a gold and maroon theme. golden hues enveloped the space, casting a warm, regal glow. glittering chandeliers, adorned with intricate gold details, hung from the ceiling, their crystals refracting light in a dance of elegance.

luxurious maroon fabrics draped the walls, creating a sumptuous backdrop that added depth to the golden ambiance. tables adorned with golden tablecloths and maroon accents contributed to the harmonious blend of colors. golden candle holders flickered with the soft glow of candles, casting a gentle radiance on the rich maroon floral centerpieces.

the women's dresses shimmered with embellishments, and the men's attire featured accents, creating a visual symphony of sophistication, into which you walked with anthony, arms interlaced, as you bowed before queen charlotte, who had taken quite a liking to you.

"it's lovely to see the bridgertons led by a couple as magnanimous as you" she bestowed a rare compliment, bringing a hot flush to your cheeks and even to anthony's pale visage. "but now we anxiously await the news of a young bridgerton" she said pointedly, and you kept your eyes low, trying to ignore the heat blooming in your cheek.

around you, guests were engaged in a dance, the dance floor became a stage for a waltz of colors, with the many colours and tones reflecting in the mirrored walls. the orchestra, bathed in the warm ambiance, played melodies that echoed the richness of the color palette.

you noticed simon and daphne dancing, looking fondly at each other, and saw colin sharing a dance with young penelope featherington, which made you smile, always having harbored a soft spot for the girl.

you spotted eloise by the food table, with francesca, both enjoying the strawberries that were being served. benedict seemed engrossed in exploring the rich collection of paintings in the hall, and was surrounded by a group of friends.

anthony led you over to his sisters, a soft kiss to your wrist a promise to be back in a moment lingering on his lips, as he was dragged off by countless lords for a drink and a conversation about the next round of a hunt they were engaging in.

as eloise began to speak about the many cruelties of lady featherington, you spotted cressida cowper scowling over at the two of you, dressed in a pink so bright you felt momentarily blinded. she shot a contemptuous look at you, scoffing at your gown and sharing a laugh with lady cowper, that had your eyebrow creasing with insecurity.

much to your horror, she began to march over to you, along with her mother and lady featherington, much to your dismay. you searched desperately for your mother-in-law, but found her engrossed in conversation with the queen.

"my my, if it isn't the happy bridgertons" cressida sniped, flashing you a tight lipped smile. "hello miss cowper" you smiled, ignoring the anxiety bubbling in your tummy.

"cressida" eloise said coldly, linking her arm with yours. she was well aware of the contemptuous rumours she had spread about you when you had begun courting anthony and had made it her mission to protect you from her.

"what a rather unusual colour for you dear" lady cowper commented, eyes trailing down your body in disdain.

"it gives you the impression of being a little washed out" she stated, opening her fan to hide her smirk.

you ignored the tear that sprang to your eyes as she continued to comment, on the fall of the dress, the shape of the silhouette and the way your jewellery was far too showy.

you could feel eloise glowering beside you but silently begged her to keep calm, not wanting to lose her calm in front of everyone.

to your surprise, a familiar baritone cut in, a nd a strong arm wrapped around your midriff and waist.

your husband appeared beside you, a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"i see why you might think that, lady cowper, for all you can pull off is that rather obnoxious shade of viscous pink, and while i understand your envy at my wife's ability to outshine everyone else here in any colour she chooses, i must remind you are speaking to the viscountess bridgerton, and hence must adhere to the degree respect she commands" he stated coolly, hand gripping your waist so tight you were sure it would leave marks.

stunned speechless, the cowper's backed away, egos more than bruised and enraged , subject to sniggers and chuckles from the other lords and ladies in the room. your brother walked to anthony from across the hall, patting him on the back and whispering a "good man" to him as he hugged you, and eloise drew anthony into a hug as well.

anthony led the two of you over to his mama, who couldn't hide a smile herself at the love her son had for his wife, so reminiscent of the way their father had loved her.

"I am sorry if I caused humiliation to your name mama, but I cannot and will not let anyone talk to my wife that way" he said firmly, only to be cut off by his mother.

"I believe everyone here has been waiting to say that to miss cowper since the beginning of time, my darling, so take your wife and go home. you have done your job and proved your love and passion and told everyone that your relationship rhymes true" she said, drawing you into a warm hug and bidding you goodbye.

the carriage ride home was silent as your held anthony's hand tight, his thumb tracing patterns over the gloves you were donning, a pearly white to match your jewels.

"thank you my love" you whispered to him, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

"my darling, i love you, all of you. please do not ever belittle yourself, because your beauty is awe worthy" he said, eyes contorted as if he was in pain at the thought of you being in pain.

"I'll try my best not to" you whispered against, leaning forward to press your foreheads together. and you stayed like that till bridgerton manor came into view.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

frenzied kisses were pressed against your lips as anthony lifted you into his arms, earning a singular gasp from your lips. his hands, one wrapped tightly under your bottom and the other around your back was strong, as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he led you upstairs, ignoring the scurrying valet and maids and your ladies in waiting as he made it to your shared bedroom.

he dropped you gently on the bed, towering above you, hands shoving the material of your dress up. his hands crept along your thighs stealthily, finding the hooks of your stockings to your thigh garter, slowly dragging it down, exposing your bare skin to him, suppressing a groan at the soft skin.

to his surprise you reached up and grabbed him by the cravat, untying it and pulling him down to meet your lips. you kissed him roughly, a frenzied battle, with teeth and tongue clashing as he shrugged off his waist coat and began to unbutton his shirt, watching as you removed your jewellery and kept in on the table beside his bed.

his hands reached for your dress, carefully untying the many laces and unbuttoning the many buttons on your dress, watching as your bosom heaved in the corset wore.

deft fingers unhooked the corset without a struggle, and you moaned when the cold air hit your nipples, making them harden, as you pushed your chest out towards him.

anthony growled, the sound reverberating in his throat as he reached down to unbutton his tan pants, leaving him in just his underwear. his lips attacked your neck, biting into the delicate flesh and pressing kiss after kiss, sucking deep marks and hickies that were sure to stay for days after.

you raked your nails up and down his neck, stroking the skin there and raking your hands upto his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he trailed kisses down to your breasts.

his mouth enveloped your nipple in his mouth, tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive nub.

he continued his ministrations, taking only a moment to move his mouth to your other breast and leaving lovebites on the skin.

he settled in between your thoughts, hips gently grinding into yours, as he licked and sucked to his heart’s desire, attempting to alleviate the growing tent in his pants.

you were beginning to pant, and he continued to pinch and stroke your nipple. his tongue wreaked havoc on one while his fingers gently tugged on the other. anthony could not wait any longer, the pain of the straining in his pants making him more loopy than he would admit, and he pulled away from your breast, a string of saliva from his lips to your breast.

he came back up to your mouth, kissing you with desperation. "i adore you" he painted above you, before kissing down your tummy to your thighs.

he stopped at the junction between your thighs, inhaling the musk of your scent.  

he reached for the cotton underwear you had on, gently pulling it down, and pushing your thighs apart, and a wave of cold air floated across your inner thighs, so open and exposed now.

anthony began to press hot, open mouthed kisses to the bare expanse of your thighs, stopping just below your pussy lips each time.

mere moments later, you felt an entirely new sensation— anthony's wet, warm tongue sliding through your folds. a cry of pleasure ripped from your throat, as you looked down at anthony, who had crawled between your legs with his tongue buried at the apex of your thighs.

your slick dripped down your pussy lips, costing them in your honey, and anthony licked it all up as if it was nectar and ambrosia, lowering his face to lick a long strip through your entire slit, before tilting his face even deeper into your pussy, swirling around up to your engorged clit and licking all around it and on the top of it.

the action had your hips jolting as he sucked on the nub, causing flashes of white to flash before your eyes.

"you taste more delightful than i could ever have imagined" he breathed licking the sour-sweet liquid off his lips. "my own precious honey pot" he cooed, making you flush again and your body heated up.

he sucked harder on your clit, fingers slipping into your slit to slide up and down, each stroking made your hips flail wildly.

“you taste so sweet” he murmurs, and the brush of his breath sears against your skin. the low rumbling of his voice, so characteristic of him, are dripped in hunger and arousal, the heat spreading under your skin and threatening to explode like a supernova.

"i have longed to have you squirming on my tongue my love. i will have you screaming my name until your lips know no other" he promised.

with a ravenous look at your heaving form, anthony lowered his mouth to your throbbing center again and licked a bold stripe up your clit, the sensitive bud jolting in shock and you scream in pleasure,

the ever composed lord bridgerton moans against your cunt when you tug his hair, hands holding down your hips as he watches you squirm. then anthony rolls your clit with his teeth and you come apart with a scream, hands gripping onto his hair for dear life.

you come, cunt clenching down, spasming around his tongue where he has you stretched open. everything else disappears for a moment, your body weightless with pure unadulterated bliss.

anthony shifts so he is in between your legs again, watching the fluttering of your pussy as you clench around nothing. your eyes are trained on his hips and he feels a surge of pride.

his cock was one not only of great size but of greater girth and greater skill, and he adored nothing more than watching your eyes become as large as saucers as you looked at his poor cock straining again as it had been ever since he saw you in his signature colour.

trained hands guided his cock to your entrance, tapping against it for a few seconds before he dragged the tip through your slick, making your body shudder at the stimulation. and then, he pressed a kiss to your neck, hips slamming against yours.

the first thrust was deep and claiming,and you cried out at the perfect stretch of him in your pussy.

you could barely think straight, hands digging into his back and nails sinking into his skin.

"so fucking perfect,” he murmured into your ear, rasped and breathless as he nipped on your ear. "'feel so good wrapped around my cock. so wet and warm for me my sweet sweet beloved. fuck, you're so tight right now. squeezing me so well, you love my cock, do you not my angel?"

"yes yes i love you and your cock" you changed as a prayer, eyes bashful at the use of the dirty word. "look at how your cunt clenches around me" he groaned, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly.

you could hear the headboard banging against the wall as the pace of anthony's thrusts had your body sliding against the silken sheets.

and then he stopped

he stayed there, buried inside you to the hilt, and his cock twitched excitedly inside you. you watched the way he gripped the bedsheets tightly with his fingers until they went hite. it sent heat and pleasure into the pit of your stomach and you were sure you are going to burn. it was far too good, far too much, brimming on the edge of being overwhelming. 

there’s no warning as he pulled out, leaving his pulsing tip in, and then he thrusted all the way back inside, in one long and slick stroke back inside you, deep and rough. his cock slammed into a spot in you that has you screaming, something absolutely fucking delicious and it steals away your breath and makes you cry out. 

and then he grabs your legs, pushing them up towards your legs as he almost folded you in half, pushing your legs so far apart they almost touched your head, as he moved to his knees for a better angle.

his hips thrusted wildly as he kept fucking you, hand rubbing furiously at your sensitive clit, as you whined and moaned and screamed. he watched as your cunt, pink and perfect fluttered and twitched, and his ears revelled at the sound of the filthy, wet squelching that echoed in the room from your dripping cunt.

he landed a harsh smack to the back of your thigh that had you screaming as he then pressed his tongue to it, sucking a hickey on the spot.

sweat dripped down his forehead and yours, as you began to thrust your hips up to meet his perfect strokes, while feeling like his cock was going to split you apart.

"i want nothing more than to fill you with my seed" he growled, over the sound of your skin slapping together over and over again.

"fill me with your seed my lord. let me have carry your kin" you murmured, and you watched as anthony groaned, hand wrapping around your throat.

"such a minx" he grinned, squeezing and watching your eyes roll back.

without a warning, he flipped you over so you were on top, and his deft hands steadied you at the waist.

then he began to slowly pick your hips up, working you up and down on his cock, slamming you up and down on his cock, until you got the hang of it.

anthony felt himself drooling as he took in the way your tits bounced and you bounced on his cock as you ride him, nails now scratching down his chest as he laid a harsh spank to your ass that had you clenching on his cock harder.

he watched your body desperately ride him for all he was worth, thighs jiggling as they clapped against his own, and he pinched the fat around your waist and belly, teeth nipping at your nipple to increase the stimulation.

"m-my lord! I am going to cum!" you moaned loudly, only to turn to a wail as anthony's fingers unleashed a furious assault on your clit, as he rubbed it up and down and side to side and everywhere, covering his fingers in your slick.

with a scream of his name, you came all over his dick and his tummy, your juices spilling out of you like a fountain, watching as he scooped it up with his fingers to lick it clean.

he slammed your hips down on his even harder as you whined, and you felt his stomach tense and breathing stutter as he came, shooting his load inside you, and finally sinking into the pillow, limp.

panting, you rolled off of him, mind cockdrunk and unable to move. anthony peppered kisses to your skin and kissed the spots where he'd been rough.

"you were phenomenal, my love" he whispered, and to your intrigue, his fingers trialed down to your cunt.

you watched as he gently slid a finger in to your hole, shushing and kissing you as he blocked it with his fingers.

"i cannot have a single drop of me spilling out of you" he murmured and you moaned.

"i adore you", he mumbled, "my dear wife" he concluded.

"and i adore you, my dear husband" you smiled, meeting his lips in a sugar sweet kiss.

who would've known that wearing the bridgerton blue was all it would take for you and anthony to announce to the ton in the next three months that you were expecting the first bridgerton heir?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : I've missed writing for bridgerton so much!! i really hope you enjoy this, and as always likes reblogs comments opinions etc are appreciated!! sending u all love and happiness and remember, my inbox is always open and i love making new friends!! happy reading ☺️♥️

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[st7rnioioss]

ੈ‧₊˚ waterlilies

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: FLUFFF and a lot of it, kissing

word count: 648 i think (I CANNOT WRITE LONG FLUFF)

i HAD to link an arctic monkeys song. listen to it while reading if you bother lol.

working on some requests!! i love y’all’s ideas🤍

anyways, i love painting myself so this was fun to write. felt in the mood soooooo HERES A GOOD OLD FLUFF😇

───────── 🐇

“So, what do you think? Is it good?” you smiled, holding up the paper in front of you.

Your whole life you had been fascinated with painting, specifically water colouring. The way the thin paint blended in with the other colours, layering it to give it depth, the tiny details you could add, and overall just the mood of it.

This past month you had been really into it. Painting a pond with water lilies, a green forest turning orange as the seasons changes from summer to fall, and a lot more. You usually kept all your small paintings in a notebook (with water lilies on) the same size as the paper.

Matt was your biggest supporter. He loved your paintings, but not as much as he loved watching you paint. Your concentration face, tongue slightly poking out through your lips, eyebrows frowned, the sun hitting your facial features just right.

He could just gaze at you for hours, here and there telling you how good the painting looked or how good you looked. This would often result in you smiling, blushing and looking away. He just joined in, laughing as he threw his arms around you, plastering your face and head with kisses. He loved your laugh so much. Well, to be honest, it usually ended up in the bedroom. But that’s not the point.

“I love it. I swear, you get better every time,” Matt said, his hand holding his head up, the other one holding your hand across the table, studying the painting.

“Can I have it? I want to frame it.” Matt smiled, taking the painting from your hand, his eyes scanning it.

A turquoise blue pond, water lilies floating on top of it, surrounded by tall dark green trees. You knew Matt liked forests, so while painting the pond you added the trees and the rest of the forest, of course, adding your signature water lilies on top.

You loved water lilies, and Matt seemed to love them too. He had gotten a small one tattooed on his inner wrist, and when you asked him the day he got it, why he got it, he just told you that ‘Water lilies remind me of you’

“Of course you can. I’ll find a frame, we can do it right now,” you said as you stood up from your chair, on your way to the basement.

That was until Matt caught you, his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, tickling you.

“Got you!” he chuckled.

“Hey! Matt!” you laughed uncontrollably, your hands gripping his strong arms. He started laughing as well, kissing your neck, cheek, forehead, and now turning you around to kiss your lips. He cupped your face with his hands gently, your own hands ruffling through his hair.

“I love you,” he whispered as he pulled away from this kiss, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I love you too,” you smiled liked a little kid, holding his hands. Matt then decided to totally betray you and tickle you again.

“Matt, stop!” you screamed, both of you laughing so hard you fell to the floor.

He stopped tickling you, both of you panting, but still giggling. You rested your head on his chest, intertwining your fingers slowly.

“You know I love your laugh,” he smiled at you. You looked up at him, his eyes already locked on yours as you chuckled a bit. His words always managed to make you blush like crazy.

“Look who’s blushing, huh?” Matt teased, pinching your cheek as he started laughing again.

“I am not!” you giggled, covering your face with your hands, covering in dried up paint.

“You so are!” he kept teasing, leaning over your body to kiss your face again, one hand beside your head, the other gripping your hip. You just lied there for a bit, kissing each other, blushing, smiling, kissing again, leaving hickeys here and there.

“Ouch, we should get up. This floor isn’t so comfortable after all,” you chuckled, pulling away from his, now swollen, red lips. He got up from the top of you, picking you up by your waist, throwing you over his shoulder, his arms wrapped around your legs.

“Matt!” you giggled. “Put me down right now!”

“Nope, not happening. I’m taking you to the bedroom.” he chuckled, a smirk growing on his lips.

a/n: hope u like it!! lots of love💕

[ghettogirly]

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𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

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-> synopsis: Being held captive by a cartel leader is a law enforcement worker’s worst nightmare, especially when you’ve been sold out by people from your side. Your fate lies in the hands of a ruthless cartel leader, what would be the consequences?

-> format: imagine

-> theme: angst.

-> warnings: mentions of kidnapping, mentions of violent scenes, mentions of childhood trauma, mature language, armando has a lot of trauma to him.

-> authors note: sorry for the lack of updates! i’ve been sooo busy. hope you all enjoy! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝! 💗

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Dust coated the desolate, concrete floor below as a cast of cold air swept through the room. It being an open space due to the lack of rooms, walls were knocked down as you saw the rubble not too far from you. Your eyes were heavy as a pain then boomed through, clearly the consequence of it being bruised.

The question being how and why?

Looking down, the lack of movement was prominent as your feet and hands were bound to each other. Purple and pink blotches were plotted on your hands as a tension line formed due to the rigid surface of the rope, branded your skin. The uncomfortable feeling of the wooden chair not making the situation any better as grunts escape your mouth as you try wiggle you way out of the ties, to no avail. Huffing in frustration, you give up.

Graffiti was plastered on the walls, a multitude of colours and signatures decorated them as it made it clear that this place was abandoned. A free zone where people come in and practice their artwork. Moving over to the left, two chairs were aligned next to you. One chair had a man sitting in it, bound just like you but with his head now lying back. His eye was swole and coloured with blue and purple marks due to the fluid built up behind it, the result of a pretty clear beat down. His head had blood leaking from it, cascading down his face into the floor as red marks also plastered his body.

He was practically half dead.

The other chair next to him was empty, the rope loose at the bottom of the chair as blood trailed from it. Understanding the gravity of the situation, you then start to panic, wrestling the ropes. Clearly these people were not here to play. “No tiene sentido tratar de escapar de Mami, no lo vas a lograr.”

The voice erupting from somewhere in the building made you stop dead in your tracks as you quickly look around to see where that echo came from. Your brown eyes moved frantically as you desperately search for answers. Suddenly, 3 men walk in front of you, dressed in full black from head to toe.

More footsteps could be heard which causes the men to stand to the side, revealing the man.

A shadow casted over you due to the height of the apparent, hispanic man. His knuckles were rough, slight roots of hair covered his arms yet his skin was relatively smooth. A glint of a neutral tan covered the man’s body, demonstrating his mexican heritage.

Slowly glancing up to his face, a medial size scar was apparent on the right side of his face and a scar in his eyebrow.

He was fairly groomed. His facial hair freshly trimmed as well as his hair being freshly done. Yet, his dark, pink lips formed into a scowl, looking down upon you.

“Armando Aretas..” you thought.

“what do you want with me?” Croaking out, your throat running dry and raspy due to the dusty conditions.

"No puedes hacer las preguntas, nena. You came here on my territory, snooping around my business. I want to know what you’re doing here so far away from your homeland.” Armando calmly suggests, walking circles around your chair as the two other men stared down at you, evoking some psychological strategy.

“How did you-“

“How did I know? ¿Es esa la pregunta principal que te estás haciendo en este momento?” He scoffed, clapping his hands in disbelief.

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“Boss, there’s something you need to look at.”

Peering over at the picture that was slid on his marble desk, Armando lifted up the sheet, slighting creasing the corner due to his carelessness. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at worker with hesitation in his eyes. “¿Es cierto?”

The former nodded causing the man to sigh. Casting his eyes over the tablet the man just gave him , a picture was presented to Armando causing the former to squint. Eyebrows furrowed and lips curled, he sat back and looked at his worker in silence.

His tongue slid over his bottom lip as the male sat there, contemplating.

“Armando-“

“¿Me ibas a decir que teníamos a un estadounidense en nuestro equipo?”

The double doors opened revealing a caucasian male who slowly strolled in. The sheer arrogance exuding off of him due to his wealth and status. Dressed in designer branded clothes and accessories from head to toe, the blonde male raised his eyebrow.

“What are you talking about?”

A quick head nod was exchanged and the tablet was exchanged.

“Fuck. I know her.”

“No shit. Don’t fuck around with me Louis.”

A sigh came from the male standing in front of Armando.

“Listen, all I know is that she’s in the legal profession. I don’t know anything else. She’s a rat though.”

A loud sound of glass shattering was heard as pieces of debris flew throughout the office, causing the other two men to duck in attempts of protecting themselves.

“Fuck!!!”

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A scoff reverberated off of the walls. “Querías saberlo. Ahora ya lo sabes.”

“Why are you doing this.. We’ve hardly spoken. Just kill me.”

“I’ve saw you. I’ve saw you talking to the other women in the kitchen. Helping out the little ones in the community. We had a good conversation, remember?”

“It was one conversation-“

"Uno. Significaba todo para mí. La única persona que me escuchó fuiste tú".

“Armando, i do care about you. ¿Esa conversación sobre tu madre? Lo recuerdo.” A slight whisper falls out of your mouth, you clasp onto the wooden bars of the chair in desperation.

“But you was going to do the exact same thing she did to me. Lie.”

“I wasn’t lying!”

“¡Pero tú lo estabas!" Armando shouts, kicking the chair next to you.

“Armando-“

“No. It’s fucking over. No hay ratas en el negocio de los cárteles.”

A baby was heard throughout the room as the woman’s head slumped down due to the trajectory and power of the shot. Blood splattered on the hispanic’s shirt and the concrete floor below.

Heading towards the door, Armando looked at the workers, the sight of a tear daring to show itself by leaving the corner of his eye.

“Get this cleaned up.”

Footsteps faintly turned away.

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[🌱] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“No tiene sentido tratar de escapar de Mami, no lo vas a lograr.” - there’s no point in trying to escape mami, you not going to make it.

“No puedes hacer las preguntas, nena.” - "You can't ask the questions, baby"

“¿Es esa la pregunta principal que te estás haciendo en este momento?” - is that the main question you’re asking right now?

“¿Me ibas a decir que teníamos a un estadounidense en nuestro equipo?” - Were you going to tell me we had an American in our team?

“Querías saberlo. Ahora ya lo sabes.” - You wanted to know, now you know.

"Uno. Significaba todo para mí. La única persona que me escuchó fuiste tú". - One. It meant everything to me. The only person who listened to me, was you.

“¿Esa conversación sobre tu madre? Lo recuerdo". - That conversation about your mother? I remember it.

“¡Pero tú lo estabas!" - But you was!

“No hay ratas en el negocio de los cárteles” - there’s no rats in cartel business.

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[🎀] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @5tarlan7 @yeahnohoneybye @dyttomori @dyttomori02 @milliumizoomi @shurisgf @tyneshaaa @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @thedarkworldofhananerea @sarcasticbitchsblog @armandosbabymama @believeinthefireflies95 @twinklestarslight

[zaahvi]

a little breakdown of the new mural:

the context: this is part of a quest named "regrets of the dread wolf" in which rook uses a wolf statuette to "restore" this damaged mural in the lighthouse. it's referred to as a "regret" and seems to echo a memory linked to the events shown in the mural

"[Solas'] history, along with the history of the other elven gods, is baked into the Lighthouse, and you learn more and more about the threat you face as you unlock Solas' murals with various wolf statues. You even get to see some of his memories firsthand." [source with timestamp]

first, the imagery:

these "star" symbols are the same as on the "death of a titan" mural from trespasser, and even have similar halos. there are three visible in the circle here, which itself is cracked and there's a beam of light coming from above, sort of mirroring the titan mural:

it's interesting that the beam of light is coming from above, and is hitting the circle at the bottom, illuminating the outline; it seems like the light itself is what "cracked" the circle? there's also light shining from above, and elgar'nan is looking up at it, so... maybe it's the sun? the halos around the hands are also reminiscent of the left figure on the titan mural.

for triangle symbolism enjoyers... there are triangles around the light beam a little further up 👀

this is also our first look at mythal <3 she had dark hair and her headpiece is silver like flemeth's, a nice contrast to the golden crown elgar'nan has! they're like the sun and moon...

elgar'nan appears to have silver hair here, much lighter than the dark greyish he seems to have in-game. i'm thinking that either the blight darkened it, solas painted it differently, OR that the lighting that we've seen him in so far just hasn't shown off the colour properly. on his robes there is a sun pattern on his shoulder :) the bottom of the robes seem greenish and has patterns similar to the lyrium veins(?) on the titan mural above, and now that i look at them side by side... he kinda looks like the figure on the left, doesn't he?

solas with hair real!!! and he has his signature wolf pelt :) he's standing among some kneeling elves, and, notably, none of them have vallaslin.

these leafless trees - usually used as symbols of mythal - are almost framing the piece. the blue coming from the cracked circle is also interesting: solas rarely uses blue apart from his murals inside skyhold, so maybe it means something? it could be lyrium, or the titans' power?

the story:

remembering the context: this is one of solas' old memories, and a "regret" of his. looking at the imagery and pairing it with the dialogue seen, the events portrayed become clear:

Elgar'nan: They need strength. Mythal: And wisdom. Elgar'nan: They need gods who can protect them. Solas: We are not gods. You will learn that.

this is the evanuris first declaring themselves gods, seemingly after whatever war the elves fought; possibly with the titans, judging by the hints in these murals.

elgar'nan and mythal came first, which lines up with the dalish legends. i'm very curious if they were actually a couple or if they were just paired together in legends because they were the first gods (like how falon'din and dirthamen were paired as twin brothers in dalish tales but had no familial connection in elvhen lore). and from what they say... using "they" to refer to the elves rather than "you", implies this was a private conversation, which leads me to believe that they did originally intend to protect the elves. for instance, if they'd said "you need gods who can protect you", that's a whole other story which could be clearly interpreted as installing themselves as rulers in order to gain power and oppress the people. but this? the elves need strength, and wisdom, and protection? it's our first real clue that the evanuris were not always tyrannical, and that is just so interesting! i am very excited to see the story of how they became corrupted 👀

solas has an interesting line here also. using "we" instead of "you"... there's a popular theory that solas was a spirit of wisdom who was asked by mythal to join her, as implied by these lines from cole:

"He did not want a body. But she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face." "Bare-faced but free, frolicking fighting, fierce. He wants to give wisdom, not orders."

so maybe solas was a general alongside the evanuris, and was clearly opposed to becoming a "god" like the rest of them. i find it interesting he doesn't have vallaslin on the mural here. the cole lines implied he had mythal's vallaslin, and i would've assumed he "burned it off" when he started his rebellion. the only thing i can think of is that the vallaslin may have originally acted as a spirit binding (like binding a spirit to a body) but if it could be removed then... idk.

finally, circling back that this is referred to as a "regret"... i suppose this is his regret of not having stopped them before everything that followed. and with regret mentioned as being one of the key themes of the game... aghh this is gonna be so good

[charliedawn]

Halloween Party

(Special Request for a birthday.)

The Halloween costume party was buzzing with anticipation as you swept through the room in meticulously crafted versions of each slasher’s signature look. You had transformed the hospital into a festive party scene—cobwebs, glowing jack-o'-lanterns, and eerie music filling the halls. But then, the slashers noticed your costume and some were…rather flattered as they saw you.

Michael Myers:

Dressed in a sleek, form-fitting version of Michael's blue jumpsuit, complete with a version of his infamous mask, you approached him with a warm smile. Behind the mask, Michael smiled, though he quickly shifted his gaze away. He was slightly surprised that you had chosen to dress like him for Halloween, but he didn’t mind. You leaned in to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek and then on the forehead. Michael remained his usual stoic self, but his hand twitched slightly, betraying his feelings, his eyes fixed on your costume once more. He then wrapped his arms around you and effortlessly lifted you up. He then stared at your face for a few seconds before hugging you tightly.

Freddy Krueger:

You wore a red and green sweater, a pair of dark pants, and a smaller, clawed glove that gleamed in the dim light. Freddy’s eyes widened with a smirk as you drew closer, but he couldn't hide his surprise when you gave him a light kiss on the cheek and forehead. “Heh, didn't think I'd see someone look this good in stripes, doll,” Freddy chuckled, trying to play it cool but clearly caught off guard. He then turned around you to appreciate the costume before chuckling. “Hell, you look better in my colours than I do ! Would look better without any clothes…but hey ! I’m not complaining.” The fact that you had decided to wear his colours on Halloween made him proud somehow. He then playfully ruffled your hair. “How come you look better in my clothes than me, huh ? You some type of witch ?”

Jason Voorhees:

You wore a tailored version of Jason's jacket and hockey mask and approached the silent giant. You could feel Jason’s intense gaze through the mask as you leaned in, your kiss leaving him momentarily stunned. He touched his cheek with a bit of awe, almost as if to assure himself it had really happened. You noticed the shy way he glanced away afterward and smiled.

But, you didn’t expect it when he suddenly raised his camera and took a picture of you.

He wanted to remember this.

The Hannibal Lecter Family:

You had crafted something special for each Hannibal family member, from a refined take on Hannibal Sr.'s suits to a doctor’s coat for Morgan. As you approached them one by one, you gave each a kiss on the cheek and forehead. Hannibal Sr. offered a polite smile, his fingers steepling thoughtfully. Junior’s expression softened, his eyes lingering as if analyzing the gesture and approving of the craftsmanship. Morgan gave a faint smile, brushing off any embarrassment, while Kevin and Peter grinned brightly, clearly pleased.

They were more than pleased with your choise—your clothes having been picked carefully.

You wore a suit, a medical coat, Hannibal Jr’s gloves, one of Kevin’s bags and Peter’s beanie. They were pleased with the originality of such a costume on Halloween.

Brahms Heelshire:

Your Brahms-inspired costume had lace accents and a touch of Victorian elegance, a nod to his classic style. Brahms’ gaze followed your every step as you approached, almost entranced. The kiss on his forehead made him close his eyes, and he reached out as if to keep you close a moment longer, murmuring, “Only for me ?”

When you nodded, he smiled brightly and twirled you around.

It made him happy.

Chucky:

Your Chucky costume was composed of overalls and a striped shirt. Chucky’s usual bravado faded as you approached. He was stunned. With the kiss, he let out a surprised laugh, scratching the back of his neck and muttering, “Not bad…for a doll.”

He then cackled before winking at you.

He approved.

Anton:

For Anton, you had crafted a dark, understated look, merging elements of his style with your own touch. He nodded approvingly at your choice, and as you kissed his cheek and forehead, he gave a rare smile, nodding slightly in respect. He still isn’t really affectionate, but he would show you that he liked it by offering you his jacket (that you may or may not have stolen for the occasion.)

Eddie Gluskin:

Your costume for Eddie had lace, a dark elegance that mirrored his style. Eddie’s eyes lit up with an adoring gaze as you came close. The kisses were like a promise, and he whispered, “You are a vision. Simply perfect…like you were meant to wear my brand.”

…Yeah. He definitely liked it.

[vulturv0lans]

If it's not too much to ask, can we have a soft dom diluc gently guiding a shy sub reader through her first time? (In desperate need of tooth rotting fluff and diluc being sweet lmaoo [with lots of praise ofc])

ok you know what anon i have been looking for something like this but i haven't found too many,,,thank you for the request!

word count: 2,960 (i got carried away again oops) tags: first time, references to diluc’s father/backstory/official manga, soft dom diluc, lots of love and affection and just overall sappy, porn with plot (lots of it), me crying (also lots of it)

m.list | diluc m.list | rules | inbox

the air is salty by the lake and his door rusty, yet you’re sure you’ve never need anything more.

when diluc brought you back to the winery for the first time, this was not what he had in mind. he had simply wanted to show you more, parts of him he had long hidden beneath the layers of his clothing and layers of walls he built up. but you are his lover now. you meet the maids that have been with him since he was a child, browse through the volumes that his father left behind, breathe the same air that he has always breathed inside the estate.

he was not planning to take you right there, on the four posted bed he claims but seldom occupies, on the second floor of the winery.

diluc was hesitant at first, leading you into the one place he holds closest to his heart. the master bedroom has not seen a visitor in ages. even the maids rarely enter except when they are asked to, because within these gilded walls and draped curtains is where diluc can truly feel at ease, no “mondstadt wine tycoon” or “master of dawn winery” or even “darknight hero” attached.

and before your eyes, he feels just as bare.

you had taken a seat at the edge of his mattress, arms supporting your weight as your eyes take in the surroundings. the wallpaper is a dark crimson red, damask patterns painted in black. the thick velvet of the curtains match the crimson in colour, yet the light seeping through the fabric and reflecting off of the golden tassels that touch the floor. the furnishings are simple, the large room otherwise empty save for a mirror, a wardrobe, a fireplace, and a desk filled with books.

yet it’s the paintings on the walls that catch your eye. one of them can easily be discerned as an exterior sketch of dawn winery, its signature red roofs a stark contrast to the rows of green underneath. off on the other wall is a portrait. a tall, greying man poses in the middle with two younger boys to either side of him, one with hair as blue as the twilight skies, and the other with hair red as blazing fire.

diluc follows your gaze to the painting, and suddenly the room feels too hot. before he can open his mouth to change the topic, you have already turned to him with an inquisitive look in your eye, and his heart softens. he cannot say no to you.

“that’s your father, isn’t it?”

he nods, choosing to offer no further explanation.

“what was he like?”

your voice is gentle, yet he is still taken aback. seldom anyone wants to know what crepus was like as a person, beyond just his title and position. for a few moments diluc is silent, pondering his answer. how could he summarize the greatest man he’s ever known into a couple simple sentences?

“he was kind. and very, very brave.” he says at last, “he made me the man that i am today.”

“i’m sure he was a great father,” you say quietly, not wanting to press further. diluc must have his reasons behind not wanting to tell the full story yet, and you’ll give him time. as much time as he needs.

“he was.”

when he looks at you again, your frame so small against the posts on his bed, he feels an unnameable emotion surging through him. you’re studying the painting with such an intense focus, as if trying to hear the voice of a man you’ve never met, trying to understand what others fail to even notice.

and in that moment, diluc is sure he has never been more in love.

he closes the distance between you in two quick strides, and you look up at him in surprise. he intertwines your fingers before pulling you up to your feet, your body pressing flush against his as you find your balance.

“can i kiss you?”

you smile at his question. diluc, ever the gentleman. even several months into your relationship he still asks for permission, and still kisses you like it was the first time.

it’s your turn to close the gap between you now, lips meeting his in a soft kiss. his hands find their way down the small of your back, then up your spine before settling on your cheeks, fingers tangled in your hair as he pulls you even closer, until you can feel every beat of his heart on your skin.

“i love you.” he whispers against your lips when he finally breaks the kiss for air.

“i love you, too,” you echo, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him again, hands clutching his arms for support. diluc feels his skin burn wherever your hands have been, and his love and tenderness suddenly becomes something more.

deepening the kiss, he backs you up until your legs hit the edge of the bed, before your entire person falls backwards into the plush mattress. you pull him down with you, until barely any space is left between his large frame and your own, smaller one.

he smooths out the stray baby hairs on your forehead before resting his against it, eyes searching yours for any signs of discomfort. you both know where this is leading, but diluc wants to be certain, absolutely certain that you're okay with this.

"are you sure?"

you nod before you have time to think. this is a step you're willing to take, and there's no one else you'd rather share it with. even so, small bubbles of anxiety rise from your stomach. will it hurt? will you be able to enjoy this? will he be satisfied, even with your lack of experience?

if diluc could hear your thoughts right now, he would be quick in dismissing them as the most preposterous ones he's ever heard. it would pain him to know that you’d ever fear of not satisfying him, even when he would put you and your pleasures before so much as thinking about himself.

you could never disappoint him, this he knows.

his lips find yours again and your doubts dissipate like the dark clouds after a storm. wandering hands begin unbuttoning and untying every piece of fabric in your way, desperate to reduce the layers keeping you from feeling his bare skin. your clothing clatter as they fall to the ground, diluc barely separating from you to discard his shirt before lowering back down to kiss you, not wanting to part from you for a second longer than necessary.

he's hungry for more, for you.

your hands find purchase on his toned arms, his skin almost too warm under your fingertips. he mumbles something that remotely resembles "off" into your mouth, and you comply almost too quickly, lifting your arms so he could take off your shirt and your bra.

diluc forces himself to hold back when your skin is fully exposed to him. lips glistening and chest heaving, you have never looked more beautiful to him, and he makes sure you know it. dipping his head to your neck, he trails a line of hot kisses down to your breasts, words of praise between every kiss permanently etched into your skin.

"you're breathtaking."

your face heats up as he slots himself in between your legs, hand lowering to your waist. your heart beats too loudly now, focus glued to his fingers hooking into your belt loops before quickly undoing the button on your pants. fiery eyes, hooded by lust and desire, search for confirmation, and you grant it. how could you not, when you burn for him so much?

diluc can’t help but groan out when your bottom half becomes exposed. his attention is quickly taken away by the thin material of your panties, damp and clinging to the wetness pooling between your legs, and he feels the sudden urge to bury his face there.

he runs a finger down your clothed folds and you jump, legs clamping together to relieve some of the pressure. with a hand on your knee, he holds your legs open to allow himself better access to where you need him the most. gently, he moves the soaked panties to the side, and the man fully has to sit back on his heels to drink in the sight before his eyes.

you’re so pretty, so sweet, so vulnerable for him, legs spread and pussy glistening with your arousal, all for him and him only.

he curses under his breath, heart swelling at how lucky he feels to be the one admiring your naked form. ignoring the increasingly uncomfortable bulge in his pants, he dives in like a man starved, flattening his tongue against your pussy to get his first real taste of you.

your back arches off the bed at the sudden contact, diluc’s moan of satisfaction sending delicious vibrations into the deepest parts of your body. his tongue works fast magic on your cunt, licking and sucking and kissing like you’re a five course meal, the slurping sounds in perfect harmony with your soft pants of pleasure.

“fuck, you taste so good, baby.”

the satin of his bedsheet is wrinkled and twisted in your palms as you grip onto it, diluc’s hands quickly reaching up to find yours, your fingers interlacing as he eats you out, the moment so intimate that for a moment you forget the vulgarity of it all and just enjoy being so close to him, physically and emotionally.

you’re growing close, and diluc knows it. despite his pussydrunk state, he forces himself to pull away, his chin now coated with your wetness, before shifting his body up to kiss you again. you moan into his mouth as you taste yourself, obediently granting access to his tongue when it swipes across your bottom lip. the room feels ten degrees hotter and it becomes harder and harder to breathe, until your need for oxygen finally overpowers your desire for him.

diluc’s eyes are alert when you gently push on his chest, his first thought being he’s done something you did not like. gently cradling his face in your hands, you say with a blissful smile the words he’s been longing to hear for so long.

“i need you, diluc.”

his last line of defense snaps and he lets his primal instincts take over, quickly ridding himself of his pants and undergarments before settling you against the plush pillows.

“are you absolutely sure-”

“yes.” you cut him off before he can finish, and diluc‘s ever-present confidence begins to waver. he needs this to be perfect for you.

swallowing thickly, he lines himself up at your entrance. you mirror his gulp as you notice for the first time how big he is, thick and girthy against your tiny hole.

“tell me if it hurts, please,” he asks, so much genuine guilt in his voice that you can’t refuse him an answer.

you yelp in pain when he starts to push in, his body immediately tensing up. only when you repeatedly reaffirm that you’re okay does he continue, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones and whispering apologies and affirmations into your skin as he slowly sinks into you, until he’s completely buried inside you.

“you’re doing so good baby, yeah? that’s it.”

he stills for a moment to let you adjust. but selfishly he wishes to revel in your tightness and warmth for a little longer, your walls so snug against his cock like they were made just for him. he already can’t get enough, and he hasn’t even started moving yet.

you’re the one to initiate the kiss this time, silently giving him permission to move. his thrusts are slow and steady, the tip of his cock dragging against every nerve ending inside you, sending electric sparks throughout your body.

“so tight for me,” he grunts as he picks up his pace, trying to control his movements as to not hurt you, even though a part of him wants to slam into you and fuck you until you’re reduce to a babbling mess begging for his cock. but one look at your face and he feels immediate guilt at his sinful thoughts. you’re so innocent beneath him, bottom lip caught between your teeth and your face scrunched up in pleasure.

he can’t ruin you yet.

soft moans tumble past your parted lips as he reaches down to rub fast circles on your clit. every last cell in your body feels like it’s on fire, the pleasure amplified tenfold from being in the presence of your lover, better than your own fingers could ever satisfy yourself.

you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in even further, and diluc’s honour is reduced to barely hanging on by a thread.

“you’re taking me so good. so good for me.” he praises and you feel yourself gush around him, his words turning you on even further. it seems your earlier doubts were unnecessary, after all. you grow bolder, reaching up to dig your nails into his back, leaving red marks that claimed him as yours.

the stinging pain from your nails scratching against his skin sends diluc into another wave of euphoria, and he can’t hold himself back much longer. with a low grunt, he pins your wrists down above your head, dark eyes studying the microscopic changes in your expression as your hands are suddenly rendered useless, held down so submissively and at his mercy.

his eyes are fixated on the round of your breasts, bouncing so deliciously to the rhythm of his thrusts. a sudden clench of your cunt almost sends him collapsing on top of you, the tight grip he had maintained on your wrists now faltering from the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him. he curses, the profanity soon turning into praise again at how good you’re taking him, how pretty you looks, and how much he loves you, his words almost doing more to build the knot in your stomach than his steady, deep thrusts.

he leans back to sit on his heels as he lets go of your wrists, moving to hold your legs above his shoulders. you cry out when his cock hits your most sensitive spot from the new position, the sheets once again wrinkled under your tight grip now that your hands are free once again.

“fuck y/n, i’m so close.”

you lift your hips to meet his thrusts half way, all the thoughts in your head replaced by your blinding desire for your release. diluc shifts his weight to hold your thighs open instead, leaning down so he can be close to you before he reaches his impending high. he wants to hold you, to hear you, to see you chase after your high.

your moans and cries are growing more frequent, each more high pitched than the last. they are music to diluc’s ears, music reserved only for him to hear, his own low grunts a perfect harmony.

“i’m so close- gonna cum- please-” you babble, tears dotting your lashes, and diluc has never seen a more beautiful sight.

the sudden warmth of his hand on your neck makes you jump. he doesn’t close his fingers around your throat (though you secretly wished he would), instead his touch is fleeting before moving to cup your face. you lean into him almost immediately, his thumb wiping the tears that escaped, down the smooth skin of your cheeks, and across your bottom lip. he’s hovering so close to you that you can see every freckle on his skin, lips mere centimetres from yours that his every exhale becomes your next inhale, so intimate that you find it hard to believe that he’s kissing you so sweetly while maintaining a relentless pace.

he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t hold back.

“cum for me,” he breathes into your parted lips, “i want to hear you.”

and you don’t need to be told twice. with a loud cry of his name you come undone around him, your slick quickly forming a ring of white at the base of his cock as he rides out your high, his pace becoming erratic and sloppy at the vice-like grip of your cunt.

“fuck,” he lets out a deep grunt as you repeatedly clench around him, the sound resonating from deep within his chest. his hands pat around the bed looking for yours, and soon after he locks your fingers together again he cums too, head buried in your shoulder and his cock shooting hot ropes into you, painting your walls white.

your legs are shaking as you come down from your high, your pussy so sensitive to any tiny movements that you almost cum again when he tries to pull out from you. the satin beneath you is soaked with a mix of both your essence, drops of white leaking from your sobbing hole when diluc finally pulls out.

he admires you in your post-orgasm glow, and not just at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and your pussy now moulded to the shape of him. it’s as if a soft silk has been draped over you, painting your features in glorious moonlight.

“you’re so beautiful.”

he breaks the silence that has enveloped you both while your breathing returned to normal.

you still find it foreign, the feeling of his compliments even as you’re spread out naked under him. as if sensing your disbelief, diluc repeats his words again, this time between wet kisses on your collarbone, etching his love for you into your body.

“so. beautiful,” he whispers into your skin, his heart swelling, “and all mine.”

note. me and who WHEN >:( also i hope you enjoy my subtle taylor swift reference at the beginning hehe m.list | diluc m.list | rules | inbox ♡

© vulturv0lans 2023, do not copy, repost, or translate without permission.

[casualaruanienjoyer]

Flowers

"Yes, this one will do..." Armin mutters to himself as a gentle gust of wind ruffles his hair over his face.

It's early morning, the sun is lazily gliding up the horizon and there's no clouds on the sky. It's the perfect day for Armin to be off cadet duty. The perfect day for him to be out in the field.

But being off duty today doesn't mean he's not on a mission.

"This one too, for sure!"

He looks down at the small pile he's been delicately building by his side and adds yet another one on top.

Flowers. Wild flowers.

Bundles of striking colours and intricate shapes. Poppies, bluebells, daisies, buttercups... the list goes on.

He's been out and about for 30 minutes now, scouting the field for anything that catches his eyes. Anything that reminds him of-

"Aha! You, little one, are coming with me!" He reaches out for a bundle of Forget-me-nots.

He gazes at the beautiful blue petals. Blue like the ocean that he dreams of seeing one day. Blue like the sky above on a beautiful sunny day. Blue like her-

"This. She'll love this" he whispers so quietly, as though it was a secret only between him and the flowers he's turning between his fingers.

Armin reaches out for the rest of the blossoms he'd gathered, but his eyes jump to his watch.

He stands abruptly.

"Shoot! I'm going to be late!"

He starts running back towards the camp, flowers in one hand while the other reaches for some loose string in his cardigan pocket.

He tries his best not to trip while he wraps the delicate string around the flower stems, bringing them all together with a small bow.

"Perfect!"

Armin makes a mental note to thank Mikasa for teaching him how to twist, braid and knot string. He never knew it would come in handy one day.

He admires his work, turning the bouquet from side to side to fix any stray leaves, and for a second he forgets to check his steps.

"Whoa-!!"

Armin suddenly slips, losing his footing for just a second. He rapidly slides downhill towards one of the cadet cabins, though his arm stretches out just in time to stop him from running right into the wooden wall. He stops with a light 'thud'.

"That was... too close..."

He's never usually this reckless, but today he's on a mission. And he absolutely cannot be late because-

"Um...?"

Armin freezes.

He'd reached his destination either too late, or too loudly and now-

"What are you doing here... exactly?"

Now, she's here.

"Uhh..." for a moment he doesn't lift his head to meet the presence peeking out through the window above. The window he already knows too well. The same window that he's been visiting early in the morning for some time now. The window that belongs to-

"A-annie! Good morning!" he does his best to hide the flowers behind his back, laughing awkwardly.

But when he finally lifts his eyes to meet hers he can't help but blush. She's... well. A bit of a mess.

Her hair sticks up in several places, her signature tight bun is absent, replaced by waves of hair that reach just past her shoulders. She has dark circles under her eyes, darker than usual. Her gaze is sleepy and she squints her eyes as if to see him better.

Then she yawns. Annie's just woken up.

Shit.

Shit!

He's just a little too late. If only he woke up earlier himself, he wouldn't have ended up in this position. He wouldn't have had to find an excuse to be-

"Snooping around the girl dorms, Armin?"

"What!? No, that's not-!"

There's a pause. Armin's thoughts are racing, trying to find a way out of this.

When she lifts an eyebrow at him, he can't tell if she's annoyed or amused by this encounter.

It certainly doesn't help that she's so... so...close to him.

He's standing at eye level with the window sill, doing his best to look anywhere else but at her slightly open shirt and the blonde locks of hair tickling her neck. He curses his eyes for wandering.

"Well...?"

Armin's eyes land on her lips as she speaks and the redness of his cheeks instantly travels down his neck.

Shit.

There's no way out of this.

"I-I um..." he starts, clearing his throat. "I guess there's no point in hiding it." He straightens his back, taking a deep breath. He gathers all his confidence to steady himself.

"Here"

Armin pulls the bouquet from behind his back, lifting it up in the air. His fingers are a sweaty mess around the stems and his arms are shaking ever so slightly.

But despite his body language, his expression remains determined when he meets Annie's eyes.

Her beautiful blue eyes.

"They reminded me of you."

(The Aruani fic gods were with me tonight, I hope you liked this!! AAAAA. Now up on AO3 as well!)

(Also dedicated to @annawayne who encouraged me to write this fic based on a Cadet Aruani post I made not long ago. Thank you 🥺🙏)

[calummss]

Perimeters | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: you were only supposed to get thomas shelby’s signature but got his signature one night stand instead

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 3.8k

a/n: confident reader!! also i’m sorry but i had to reuse some smut bc i’m simply unable to write good smut atm. please don’t take great offense :/

Small Heath was far from a perfect little town; no greens, no blues, no singing birds, no smiles. Grey skies, dying wilds, only lips pressing together, everyday the same, every day becoming more clouded by the smoke of fire. Industrialised goods being made that half of the town couldn’t even afford.

Your newly bought shoes you only bought a couple of days ago didn’t last long. Dirt and shit on the streets claiming their place on them as soon as you stepped onto the ground. Unfamiliar streets that weren’t used to a member of the Young family to step onto. Claimed territory of the Shelbys. Shelbys were starting to cover every corner of Birmingham like rats. Infesting the city sewers, canals, streets, buildings. Shelbys were starting to take over and your father couldn’t have that.

You were supposed to meet up with Thomas Shelby, go over the drawn up contract and sign the agreement to not take eithers perimeters. Given the shithole you were standing in you doubted if you ever wanted control of a place that looked like it did what it’d please. You only met Thomas briefly a few years back. Back when you still lived with your mother just outside Small Heath. The infamous Peaky Blinders had always piqued your interest. You often caught glances at him, his dark raven hair, blue eyes like the first water, lips so plush. The wave of smoke that lingered long after he’d gone, pervasively invading your head. You were interested in the past. Even now if you were being completely honest.

‘Miss Young.’

You turned around to meet a young boy, a mere ten or nine, the peak of his cap falling below his eyebrow line, propping it up every few seconds. Dark streaks across the bridge of his nose, similar stains smeared on his jumper and shorts.

‘I will take you to Mr. Shelby.’

‘How kind of you.’ You smiled at him, following him as the boy started to walk the direction you had just come from. ‘Lead the way.’

The boy didn’t say anything. He stayed silent for most of the walk, only the crunching of dirt and gravel accompanying your thoughts. You definitely hadn’t missed the stench of Small Heath. The look of it either. You detested the past entangled between the bricks. That was what made it so abhorrent.

Not long after and you both came to a holt, right in front of the Garrison’s doors.

‘He’s inside.’ The boy said, turning away, ready to leave.

‘Thank you and hold on just a moment.’ You replied, rummaging your coat’s pockets.

Pulling out a chocolate treat, you gave it to him.

‘Thank you.’

‘Go home now. Go somewhere safe.’

With that he left.

Opening the door, the familiar squeaking of the floors echoed through the room, a hidden figure behind the glass fixing himself a drink. Your hand reached for the second door, a small jingle of the bell disrupting the silence of flowing liquids and shifting upon the old wooden floorboards.

‘Couldn’t even fetch me yourself, could you.’ Pulling off the gloves you were wearing and held them in one hand, taking in the Garrison interior.

It sure had changed a lot since you last set foot in it. It was very red and very gold, not the typical colours that fit around Small Heath and definitely not the colour palette of Thomas Shelby.

Thomas stopped pouring, bringing his lips to the glass, his deep cough bringing you back. ‘I know you.’

He looked as good as the day you left Small Heath. His dark raven hair now fading to a grey, similar to the smoke he was dragging from his cigarette. Dark suit, dark hair, dark soul.

‘I am not sure you do, Mr. Shelby.’

‘I remember everyone’s faces,’ smoke left his lips. ‘Marianne’s daughter? Hung up washing every other day. Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays.’

‘I prefer not to speak of the past.’ You cleared your throat, sitting down on a bar stool, placing your gloves on the counter.

And just like that your mind thought even more of him. What his hands would feel like on your skin, his lips on yours, what it would feel like to hear your name on the tip of his tongue in amorousity. What would his face feel like in your hands as you pulled him closer, him snaking his firm arms around your torso trying to pull you closer.

‘You look different.’ Thomas took a look at you: hair done, dress, mink fur coat, lips coated a wine red, heels that cost more than a house on Watery Lane.

‘I much prefer this look.’

Thomas stayed silent, grabbing another glass and poured a hefty serving of some whisky that he was sipping himself. The amber liquor left a burning sensation, warming you up, the need of your jacket fading as your temperature rose. Thomas refilled it as soon as you placed it back down.

‘What has your father come up with?’

Reaching for your briefcase you had brought with you, you took out a stack of papers, placing them onto the counter next to the whisky glasses, turning them so he was able to read through it. ‘This contract states that each area that is currently controlled by Peaky men and Youngs will continue to belong to them. Neither party is allowed to take territory,’ you pointed your pen onto the sheet of paper, ‘infiltration of any kind is prohibited as well as causing crimes in each other’s perimeters.’

Another shot fired down his throat. Wetness coating his lips, lips licking the last drops of gold.

‘I will give this a good read before I sign anything. I’m sure you understand, Miss Young.’

‘I understand completely. We were sure this would happen so just have it signed by the end of the week. Mail it. And please, call me Y/n.’

‘What happens if I don’t sign it?’

‘Well I wouldn’t know,’ you chuckled, taking out a cigarette for your own.

Before being able to reach for your pack of matches, Thomas had already burnt a stick, holding it towards you.

Taking a long drag you let the hot smoke fill your lungs. ‘I’m simply acting as an ambassador. I prefer not to get my hands dirty.’

‘But your eyes.’ Thomas tossed his bud into the empty glass, bracing himself against the counter, his darkened eyes staring a hole into you.

‘What about them.’

‘They like to get dirty.’

‘I’m sorry?’ You tapped your cigarette, the corner of your lip curling.

‘Do you want to fuck me, Y/n.’ His eyes went through you like a blast of his, his directness almost causing you to choke on your drink.

Puffing out the smoke you had inhaled you leaned forward, ‘I mean I came for the signature but I wouldn’t resist if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ You tried suppressing a laugh, ‘have you looked in the mirror?’

Thomas turned around to face the Garrison’s mirror, briefly meeting your eyes, staring at his reflection.

‘What do you see?’ You slowly got off your seat, walking along the bar, your hand dragging along the counter to meet him behind the wooden wall that had separated you too many times.

He turned around facing you, raising his eyebrows with an unreadable look on his face, the type of face that let people know that Thomas Shelby was a man to reckon with.

‘Nothing.’

‘I see a good looking man,’ you carefully placed your hand on his cock, covered by the fabric of his trousers, another border you wanted to cross.

His hand shot up to grab your face, pushing you against the bar’s wall, the slam of the wood sending a short wave of tweaking pain down your spine, covered by his thumbs pressing into your jaw, almost hindered you from moving completely, heat rushing down to your cunt as you finally had gotten Thomas’s touch you craved since too long. Remembering too many night you had spent with your hands between your legs, moaning the name of a man you had thought paid no attention to you.

‘Is this some kind of trick?’ He hissed, his torso closing in on you, your chest filling with heavy breaths making your chest move against his, arousal dripping down you like damp hair after a steamy shower.

‘Isn’t a woman ever allowed to simply fuck a man because he’s pretty to look at?’

His eyes held yours, his forehead inching closer as his lips hovered over yours. His hot breathing ricocheting off your red lips, breaths of smoke mixing pervasively.

‘One night.’ He whispered, his lips so close you could almost taste them.

‘One night.’

Barely a sound escaped you before he cupped your face, his lips colliding with yours and his force pressed you even further into the wall. Your bodies pressed together against the wall, breathing heavily as his lips marked their way down your neck. You could taste your shared breath of smoke, feel the pounding of your heartbeat as you fumbled to take off one another's clothes.

Heat arose from your stomach to your chest and spread out your entire body. You waited a few seconds before giving into his touch and parting your lips to kiss him. He deepened the kiss, as if trying to reach the back of your throat. You hungrily kissed him back, tongue pushing past his teeth. The bristles of his stubbles scratched against your flushed cheeks as you gripped his head firmly, as to keep him from escaping.

Tommy’s left hand travelled down your figure to grab a hand full of your ass. A moan escaped your soft lips making him groan in lust.

Tommy’s lips smashed against yours, pushing your body on top of the counter, clearing everything in sight. His arms found themselves to your lower back, your hands tangled in his coal hair.

‘Thomas,’ you mumbled out a concealed moan.

His lips and teeth gently sank into your skin whilst his tongue was rubbing against your delicate skin. Your arm was thrown over his neck, your hands playing with his hair. He moved down to your shoulder removing the strap to gain more access to your body. Your continuous moans filled the room mixing in with the muffled sounds of men fighting just outside the Garrison.

‘If I had known you were this pretty under your bruised body and dirty drapes, I would’ve fucked you sooner.’ he stared into your eyes, before lowering his head to your naked chest.

Tommy's wet tongue made contact with your hard nipple, gently blowing onto it. His tongue glided on the outskirts of your tits, kneading them thoroughly. You hissed at the pleasure you were receiving. His teeth found their way to your nipple gently nibbling, his wetness increasing your arousal..

‘You like the way I touch you, don’t you?’ you could feel his smirk against your skin.

You nodded, feeling his hand make its way down to your cunt. Tommy’s finger went along your slit, earning a twitch from your body. He parted your lips with his index and middle finger and started to explore your already wet pussy.

‘We haven't even started, and you're soaked? Just for me,’ he chuckled. ‘What a good whore you are. You're only this wet for me.’ he pushed his fingers inside of your pussy, making you arch your back.

‘Does this feel good? Do you like my fingers inside of your wet cunt.’ Thomas spoke into your neck.

‘Yes, yes it feels s-so good.’ you moaned.

His lips kept him busy at your neck and collar, leaving dark marks. He began to pump his fingers out of you slowly, too slow for your liking. Your hands grasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin, trying to ask for more.

‘Such a needy little whore. Aren’t you satisfied?’ he cocked at you.

You barely had time to take another breath, before he attached his mouth to your already aching cunt.

‘Fuck,’ you yelled out, grabbing a fistful of his blond hair. A deep moan escaped Tommy’s lips, sending vibrations through your body.

He added another finger going even faster than his previous pace, curling his fingers, hitting your spot, making you lose it. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, making you cry out in euphoria. With every forceful hit you felt your orgasm draw nearer and nearer. It felt like a knot inside of your stomach was going to explode any second and he took notice of it. Just before you could release your screams, he pulled out his digits and grinned. But before you could argue with him, he re-attached his mouth to your clit and started to swirl his tongue in every possible direction, gathering more moans that left your lips. Your hands were grasping his hair, whilst your toes were crinkling and your back was arched. The sequins of your green mini dress pressed into your skin adding to the pleasure.

‘Please just make me cum,’ you whimpered.

His hand shot up and grabbed your neck tightly, forcing you to look at him. He put pressure onto your throat, leaving you to gape at him, his chest rising with each breath he took.

‘What did you just say to me?’

‘Can you please make me cum.’

‘From the moment I touch that wet little cunt of yours, you are mine. My property. My whore. So I get to decide when you cum. Understood?’ he growled.

You nodded.

‘Speak up when I ask you a question!’ he got up on his feet and towered over you, dark eyes staring into your soul.

‘Yes sir, I understand.’ taking a huge gulp, you watched him take off his pants and jumper.

His chest swelled with air as he trailed his finger down to the base of his cock, twitching under his own touch. Your breath hitched, trying to get as much oxygen into your lungs, as you watched him come towards you. His hand still stroked over his hardened shaft, collecting a small speck of pre cum.

‘On your knees.’ he said, and like a well trained dog, you obliged.

Grabbing your jaw, thumb gently rubbing over your lips. You were at eye level with his cock, and it was bigger than expected. ‘There we go.’

‘Do you want this?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’you answered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

‘Yes, what?...’

‘Yes, Sit, I want your cock.’ you said.

Growling, he pushed the head of the shaft past your lips, hitting the back of your throat.

Tommy tangled his fingers into your messy hair, eager to push in deeper. You swallowed around his throbbing member earning a huffed moan.

‘You like that don't you,’ he thrusted in and out of your aching jaw. ‘You liked being used for my cock don't you.’

You nodded, not being able to speak, but he didn't like the non verbal communication.

He pulled out his cock giving you time to breathe.

‘I said, don't you?’

‘Yes Sir, yes! I love being used for your cock.’ you gasped out for air before he slid back inside of you.

You pressed your tongue against his shaft, trying to satisfy him.

‘So, so eager for me, aren't you, pet.’ he groaned.

His hands found their way to your hair and pulled your head back, allowing him further access to your throat. A mixture of tears, saliva and cum were streaming down your face, but he didn't seem to mind, deep groans continuing to escape his deep-pink lips.

‘Such a nasty whore. Look at you. Pathetic’" he glanced down, staring into your eyes. ‘You look so good taking my cock. Maybe this will teach you something about manners.’

A pool of cum was now dripping below you. You couldn't help it, you were so turned. You needed him. Before you could register, your head was yanked up.

‘Look at me!’

Your eyes shot up and stared into his eyes.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ he moaned loudly before releasing into your mouth, slowly pulling his cock out of your aching mouth.

‘Swallow like the little slut you are.’ he ordered.

You swallowed his load, which tasted bitter and sweet, with a hint of saltiness.You opened your mouth, stuck out your tongue, showing him you obeyed.

‘What a good little fuck toy you are.’ he smirked at you before ordering you to sit back on the bed.

‘Do you deserve to cum?’ he asked.

‘Please Sir, please let me cum.’ you begged him, ‘I need to cum.’

Tommy laughed, tracing his fingers along his cock. ‘And what will you do if I let you cum?’ He snickered, clearly finding the sight of you rather amusing.

‘Anything!’ you breathe out, not realising how bad you needed him.

‘So desperate for me.’ He trailed on. ‘Lets see if I can make an excuse.’

He lowered his body towards the floor and moved to your neck where he started placing wet, sloppy kisses below your earlobe. His tongue drew down to your stomach.

‘Just make me cum.’

Immediately regretting your words, your eyes shot wide as he stopped and retrieved his head from your stomach.

‘Watch that filthy little mouth of yours or do I have to fuck it again!’

A hot sting was burning up on your cheek. He slapped you.

You shook your head smiling. ‘I'm sorry Sir, it won't happen again.’

‘You filthy whore, you like it.’ he narrowed his eyes, gripping your chin. You were silent.

In a matter of seconds, he raised his hand and brought it down to the opposite side of your face, sending your head to the side. You winced in pain, knowing it would leave red marks for at least 48 hours.

‘Fucking whore.’ and in one swift motion he struck you straight in the jaw, making you see tiny black spots.

The taste of liquid metal dripped onto your tongue, and out of your mouth, hitting your chest. Blood. When your eyesight came back to normal, you saw Thomas watching you, chest falling heavily.

‘I hope that taught you some manners, otherwise I'm going to have to continue,’ he gritted through his clenched teeth.

‘Yes sir, I have learnt my lesson.’

‘Now tell me, what do you want me to do?’ he asked, watching your eyes trail to his cock.

‘I want you to fuck me.’ you said, not being able to withstand it. ‘I...I want you to fuck me me.’

‘Of course you do, little whore.’ he pumped his shaft faster, groaning.

Thomas placed you on the counter, brushing the tip of his cock against your opening. You wanted to roll your eyes and swear at him, but you couldn't. Instead you bucked your hips back, trying to give him a better reach. He grinned before placing his knee between your legs, before thrusting into your core, making you yelp out.

‘Fuck!’ you shakily whispered. That one thrust was able to stretch out your wet cunt.

Your face was held in place with Tommy’s hand, forcing you to look at him again.

‘Quiet, pet.’, he said. ‘Or did I say you could talk?’

You shook your head.

‘Then stay quiet.’

He continued to pump in and out of you, moans muffling into his chest. The room filled with the loud slaps of your bodies colliding.

‘You're so fucking tight.’ he grunted into your neck. ‘It's like you were made to make my cock. Look at you, taking my cock like the good, filthy, little whore you are. My pet. My fuck toy.’

Suddenly the door to the Garrison opened.

Arthur and John stepped into the room as Tommy’s cock continued to pound into you.

‘Thomas,’ Arthur coughed, his lips pressed together as he uncomfortably tried to look away, at John, hiding away before slowly turning to witness the sight. ‘Y/n…’

‘Don’t worry we won’t look,’ John said, making his way across the room, both of their eyes not leaving your body.

You glanced at them, having felt their lingering eyes on you.

‘Arthur,’ a soft moan escaped you as you gazed at him, watching make his way to the backdoor.

John snickered, aggressively throwing himself at Arthur.

You took a look at John, the knot in your stomach tightening, ‘John!’ You cried out in euphoria, as Thomas pulled you into a climax, sending your body into shudders. He kept on thrusting, overstimulating you, until moments later, he reached his high as well, filling you up with his cum.

Tommy slid his cock out of you and stared down at the sight of you. ‘What?’ he scoffed. ‘You think I’m done with you? After what you just did?’

Arms steadying your body, you were pulled off the counter in a swift motion, ass against Tommy’s cock as his hand wrapped around your throat pulling you close to him.

‘I’m done with you when I say I am. Understood?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘We will now leave…Sir.’ John snickered.

Before you could think about sneaking a glance at them, Tommy’s cock slipped back into your pussy. You threw your head back in pleasure, biting your bottom lip. Waves of pleasure hit your body like a tsunami ready to destroy everything. Every nerve in your body was on fire and engulfed your entire body.

‘Open your mouth.’

Opening your mouth you stuck out your tongue and stared into his eyes smiling.

‘Such a good fucking slut.’ He hissed in pleasure before spitting in your mouth.

‘Swallow like the good girl you are.’

Swallowing his saliva you stuck your tongue back out, grinning in seduction.

Your orgasm was coming close and washed over your body in no time. Panting, you rested your back against the wall not being able to move just quite yet.

‘Such a good girl.’ he said, as he slid two fingers up your throbbing cunt, collecting your juices. ‘Taste yourself.’

As he commanded, you opened your mouth, letting the fingers slide into your mouth, tongue wrapping around his digits, sucking off all your cum. Pulling his cock out of you, his lips brushed against you once more, the taste of one night fading into addiction.

‘One night.’

‘One night.’ You caught his lips once more before he left, surrounded by your clothes, just as alone when you got there in the first place. Just as alone in your past. Always and inevitably alone.

[hopepetal]

Boagem,,,,

Hi Bee applestruda I totally agree

––

Autumn came, and with it came a pleasant chill in the air and large, fluffy clouds carried by a lazy breeze. Leaves turning to fiery colours fell from the trees to the ground, adding a delightful crunch to the ambient sounds of travel. Five pairs of feet walked over the leafy path, one in particular stopping by a stand-out patch of purple-blue. Scarred hands gently plucked one of the late blooming lilacs, a grin lighting up dark green eyes as they examined the flower.

“Scar!” Impulse's voice, cheerful and hearty, called out. “You comin', man?”

Scar straightened up, eyes blowing wide open at how far away the others had gotten while he was picking flowers. “Hey! Guys, wait up!” He jogged up to the group before settling back into a casual pace. “I can't believe you were just gonna leave me like that!” he jokingly complained.

“We still can!” Grian chirped, “it's not too late!”

Scar stuck his tongue out at Grian, who made a face back. Scar huffed playfully at that, crossing his arms. “Well, if you're gonna be like that, I'm not gonna give you these flowers!” he teased, watching Grian's eyes widen.

“Give me those!” Grian squawked, trying to grab them from Scar's hand. Unfortunately for him, he was short and Scar was not, so the taller man simply held them above his head.

“Say pleeeease~!” Scar sang out, letting out his little breathy chuckle, a bouncy sound just as signature as his crooked smile.

Grian crossed his arms, glaring playfully up at Scar. “May I please have the flowers, Scar?” he asked, and Scar gracefully nodded.

“Here you are, my good man!” Scar exclaimed, handing the flowers to Grian with a flourish. Grian snatched the flowers and took a moment to admire them before tucking them behind his ear, nestling them carefully against the feathers of his ear wings.

Mumbo laughed, looking Grian up and down. “Looking great, G. Really adds some colour to your outfit,” he teased, and Grian smacked him with a wing.

Pearl turned around, already laughing. “Alright ladies, break it up. If we want to get these apples before fall is over, we gotta pick up the pace and stop it with the infighting.”

“I'm not going to listen to you!” Grian quipped, and Pearl picked an apple off the tree and threw it at his head. He dodged, of course, but she made her point well enough. “Okay, Pearl, void! No need to be so violent! Absolutely crazy, that woman,” he muttered playfully to Mumbo and Scar.

They made their way through the rows of apple trees before deciding on one. Pearl handed Impulse her bag before carefully climbing up into the tree, going higher and higher until she had practically disappeared into the leaves. “The best ones are at the top!” she called, upon hearing Impulse's confusion. “Right, Impy– catch!”

Impulse yelped as Pearl threw an apple down to him, just barely managing to catch it before placing it in the bag. “I don't know how I feel about being the catcher!” he called up to Pearl, “I feel like this is just an excuse to try and hit me in the face with apples!”

Pearl cackled, giving him no real answer as she threw another apple down for him to catch.

Meanwhile, Grian had decided to try and hop up onto Scar's shoulders in order to get the apples that were higher up. Of course, in his classic Grian style, he hadn't informed Scar of that decision beforehand, leading to the two almost falling over. Mumbo laughed at them as he picked his own apples by hand.

Impulse did, in fact, get hit in the face with an apple. Only once, though. Grian and Scar ended up eating more apples than they put in their bags. Mumbo's head sprout accidentally grew an apple that Scar dared Grian to take a bite out of, much to Mumbo's horror.

They ran into Tango and Jimmy on the tail end of their apple picking adventure, and of course Grian tried stealing an apple from Jimmy.

“Don't you dare!” Jimmy snapped, smacking Grian's hand away. “Tango worked so hard to get these for us!”

Tango squeaked, his tail flicking back and forth. “Hey man, I was just– I was just doin' my job, y'know? Climbing trees is fun, too. I don't do it often.”

Pearl gestured at Tango, looking at Impulse. “See? He gets me!”

Impulse rubbed the sore spot on his forehead where he had been beaned with an apple. “Yeah, well, Tango isn't dropping apples on Jimmy's face!”

Pearl snickered, her wings fluttering slightly. “That was an accident, Impulse!” she exclaimed, though the tone of her voice made it very clear that it had been on purpose. “And! And, I apologized!”

Impulse grinned. “Well, you're not forgiven.”

Tango sucked in a dramatic breath through his teeth. “Ooooh, that's rough. Impulse over here holds a grudge like no one else, y'know. He never forgets.”

“I'm still mad from the time you set my pants on fire,” Impulse grumbled.

“That was ten years ago–!”

Jimmy grabbed Tango's arm. “You did what?!”

“Ten years ago!” Tango yelped, and the whole group devolved into cackling laughter.

They said their goodbyes and went to go pay for their apples, and by popular demand, bought some fresh cider donuts as well. The group sat at one of the tables outside, happily munching away at their donuts and chatting about their most recent adventures.

It was a wonderful fall day. The first of many yet to come.

[seventeenlovesthree]

Sora Takenouchi's clothing style - a meta analysis

Initially, it looked like Sora would come out as the clear winner of the fashion analysis poll - and for a good reason, as Sora's clothing style is quite a subject to discuss when it comes to her character, development and the role(s and maybe even identity) she takes on through the course of the series. She may only have finished second after Yamato, but now concludes the first quartet after him, Taichi and Koushirou. So let's dive into it:

Adventure (+ Our War Game), age 11/12:

Sora'a initial look in Adventure may best be described with the term "iconic" - because aside from Taichi and Mimi, she may actually have one of the most memorable "adventurous" pieces of clothing among the original eight. Functioning as a contrast to Mimi's feminine red dress and pink hat, Sora prefers practical blue jeans, a yellow top with short sleeves and her trademark blue hat. The colourful ensemble is completed by red gloves, dark sneakers - with the latter most likely influenced by her playing football alongside Taichi in their school's football club. The only "more typically feminine" element - which isn't fully portrayed here - is the little pink belt with a bag she wears on her waist. Last but not least there is, of course, the signature short red hair - which, at this point, is still mostly hidden under her hat. While there are debates to this day as to whether it's a beanie or a helmet (thanks to episode 11 of the anime), we can already detect a few elements that will turn out to be reoccurring themes for her, one way or another:

Sora is our resident tomboy with a caring attitude: she can be assumed to like being practical, she is "a pants kinda girl" who prefers football over flower arrangement, but never (!) looks down on her more feminine presenting companions - and may or may not hide a lot of trauma and insecurities behind a mask. And maybe even her clothes...?

Fasting forward to Our War Game, things may become a bit clearer; her main role in the movie is to provide background conflict with Taichi while staying away from the battles because of it. However, OWG already re-uses a few elements we have seen on her before, especially in terms of colours. With Taichi, Yamato and Koushirou, estimating their favourite worn colours is a little bit easier. However, I would argue that Sora has a very strong fondness for (light) blue and yellow. She's still sticking to her blue jeans, the blue hat has been replaced with a yellow beanie, the colour of her previous shirt.

But what was the conflict about? Taichi chose to gift her a sunflower hairclip for her birthday - just to get yelled at for that by her, asking him whether "her hat doest suit" her after all. Granted, we only know his side of the story, but we can clearly see her being bitter about the whole situation and waiting for him to apologize.

Why is a little piece of jewelry riling her up so much, you may ask?

Considering how Sora's mother used to want her to quit football and behave like the daughter of a flower arrangement school owner (= iemoto) should, one could assume that she's already going through some kind of identity crisis at the age of only 12. Being confronted just by the mere possibility that her best friend may want her to be/look more feminine (just like her mother), even though her gender representation had NEVER played a role between them... May have frightened her to the core. They had always been friends, football comrades and Digital World companions. Not only that, she had already been confused about whether or not her nurturing attitude had been real or just a facade, so this may have been the icing on top - as we can tell by the fact that she keeps fumbling with her hat (and the hairclip too) through the course of the movie, displaying a great sense of insecurity. On the other hand, we can also tell that she is willing to move towards others if she's met with kindness and understanding. So once Taichi's apology reaches through to her, she ends up putting on the hairclip instead of the hat and apologizes as well. A significant change for the rest of the series...?

Come to think of it, we know that she has already reconciled with her mother to at least some degree by the end of Adventure - so could that be the reason why she already dares to wear a pink sweater at this point...? We may have to wait and see...

02 (+ Diablomon Strikes Back), age 14/15:

02 is what I would like to call "Sora's experimental phase" - and I'm not just saying that because we never see her wear her previously beloved pants through the course of the entire series plus movies, not even once.

Upon her journey of reconciling with her mother step by step, she often stays away from fighting alongside the others; either because she's busy learning (and struggling with) flower arrangement or attending tennis camp. By the start of the series, we learn that she has actually switched from football to tennis to get closer to her mother, wearing a very short skirt - and she absolutely isn't afraid to run around with it comfortably in the deserts of the Digital World, so we can tell her adventurous spirit has not (completely) vanished. And despite everything, she still tries to jump into action when possible - which will also turn out to be a theme for her: Trying to find a balance between real life obligations and the fighting, making her own choices about it. But we'll get to that.

... At this point, it all appears to be quite a strong contrast to Adventure!Sora, as she fully commits to more feminine clothes and hobbies. However: Whether it's about choosing to wear the (more Mimi-centric) colours red and pink, to generally wear skirts or about whom she wants to date - she goes for it, seems confident about it (even if she may need a nudge here and there) and still makes way to put on a hat and the colours blue and yellow again occasionally. If you squint, you may even be able to tell that, by winter season, she not only has fully embraced the blues (coat) and yellows (sweater) back into her life, while mixing it with the adopted pink (scarf and skirt) - but that her hair seems to have grown a tiny bit longer as well. Long enough to keep the fringe out of her eyes and into a side fringe (with the perfect length to be held by a hairclip). She's a teenager, it's all very experimental (to the point of wearing silly matching shirts with Taichi that refer to circles and triangles for whatever meta reason).

Since it is never outright stated, the viewer can roll the dice on whether the pants and the hat (age 11) were an act of rebellion and the skirts (age 14/15) an act of hyper-adaptation (towards a heteronormative, more "typically feminine" gender representation). But in my opinion, both interpretations are somewhat valid considering her age. Growing up is a process - and we'll learn that her style isn't set in stone at all yet.

Tri, age 17:

17-year-old Sora, despite appearing to be more torn and insecure about her path and future than before, seems to at least have grown MUCH MORE confident in her clothing style. Yes, she seems rather distressed in front of her closet (!) when it comes to picking a suitable outfit for a concert AND a football match at the same time - but who WOULDN'T be confused when being "put on the spot" like that?!

Sora's entire arc is about (struggling to) making choices - and Tri!Sora still tries to avoid doing so for the most part, hiding behind her caring nature and big sister/mom persona for the sake of Meiko, Mimi and basically everyone else. It's a comfortable mask for as long as it works, giving her a sense of security and familiarity. It's her own sense of "conformity" (and less that of rebellion) so to speak. For example - just like in 02 - she wears her school uniform prim and proper without any individual cues (unlike Taichi and Yamato and more like Koushirou). And thus, you really have to squint this time to spot her own preferences, interests and likes, because they're usually not spelled out to the viewer.

It's about the fact that she may only rarely return to wearing hats, but that her closet also doesn't exclusively consist of skirts anymore. It's about her wearing different kinds of jeans and pants of various lengths, there are tops, shirts and sweaters with silly prints, lots of layers, even a jumpsuit, shorts, miniskirts, boots, sandals and sneakers... And thus, it really feels like she has found her own definition of femininity at this point. She leaves the frills and dresses to Mimi, Meiko and Hikari - and still seems to be confident in giving her own sense of femininity a try. It's cute and comfortable - not exactly sporty, but still practical, functional, and adds a variety of colours to her already present blues and yellows, as well as the reds and pinks.

Then of course, there is her hobby that hides in plain sight and that hasn't presented itself to us previously...

Your girl, previous tomboy skirt tester, resident mom friend who used to be all into sports - is actually also into sewing and, judging by how much variety her own wardrobe offers, possibly into fashion as well. (Which, in my opinion, should have made her bond with Koushirou over his own fashion-related problems, but I digress.)

Granted, we know she also knows how to make the perfect bento box and has been practicing more "feminine things" (like flower arrangement and tennis) before, but this one is still new... And it shows that, not only DOES she have various interests - even if they all lean more into the "feminine side of things" -, but that her "experimental phase" may have led her in a direction she could turn into a career one day. Her own career. Offering the balance she has always strived for - one which, despite the variation in her wardrobe, she still hasn't achieved yet. (Which is why clashing with the version of Piyomon that lost her memory almost lets her collapse emotionally, challenging the purpose of her entire identity.)

Last but not least, we need to talk about her hair - while it hasn't exactly gotten longer (except for the fringe that grew back), it definitely has become fuller and bushier... And even provides enough length for a braid. After the events of Tri, we see her actually cutting it much shorter - it's not exactly a pixie-cut yet, but according to very common anime tropes, we know that hair changes after crucial events stand for a change in path and attitude...

Kizuna, age 22:

... And for Sora, this may mean to finally make up her mind, "deciding on something and someone" like she always dreaded. Wanting to be seen as "Sora Takenouchi" - not as a Chosen Child or the daughter of an iemoto. In her early 20s, she is still (or once again) at a point of indecisiveness and despair - and thus, as beautiful as she is, there is a "plainness" in her style that cannot be overlooked:

"Hiding" behind the kimono while practicing flower arrangement - blue and yellow, familiar and warm, but also restraining her true self by doing something she isn't fully happy with. Just like the braid she uses to tie her hair back - it's still very short, yet the fringe has grown out once again, signifying her being torn about which direction she should take. Her casual outfit symbolizes this as well, as she wears a pure white shirt - and a pair of sky blue pants, wide enough to pass as a long skirt. But, who would have guessed it, you really need to squint to see it.

When she chooses to stay away from the fighting, she has already lost her way - and already has to witness her bond with Piyomon crumble. She had to make this choice for herself, just like she had to choose to not be the first to apologize when Taichi gifted her the hairclip back then. It may not be a comfortable choice, but at this point, it is her own. Her white shirt is an empty canvas and the flower arrangement she finishes, representing all of her friends, is the tint of colour she needs in her life. She is a genuinely caring person after all - which can’t be erased by the sheer idea of her believing to act out of obligation or because she was chosen. But she also needs to let them in at her own pace.

Epilogue, approximately age 39:

Epilogue!Sora has, for obvious reasons, adapted her style from late 02: The hair remains short but, in combination with the grown-out fringe, offers sophisticated styling opportunities - close to how her mother used to wear her own. The yellows (almost olive) and blues (almost grey) have returned - and, fittingly enough, resulted in a green kimono, one she wears while showing off her career: Being a designer of traditional Japanese fashion with a modern touch - with flowers at the forefront of it all, as she could never fully abandon them and instead integrated them into another part of her life.

Some final thoughts:

Just a little while ago, I had talked about how Sora's arc may or may not have been influenced by the concept of gender dysphoria, unable to distinguish herself from her mother and the expectations that are constantly being thrown at her - whether it's about being the daughter of an iemoto, a Chosen Child, a girl(friend) or a woman in general. One may argue that we don't actually hear or see these expectations being thrown at her post Adventure, since we could clearly see that her mother was willing to move towards her as well... And Yamato and Jyou even tell her that, while it's true that they were chosen, SHE still has the right to choose to do what she could by herself. So what exactly happened?

As previously and through the course of several meta posts explained, it is difficult to really pinpoint Sora's motivations, as she keeps them to herself most of the time. She doesn't have the best self-awareness and seems to put a lot of pressure on herself - even though nobody else seems to hold her up to these high standards. (Her mother may still do so due to family traditions, but as mentioned, we don't actively see it post Adventure and can only make assumptions.)

In Tri, Taichi tells her that she's always in other people's business and that nobody knows what's going on inside of her. In To Sora, Mimi - her contrast in design and attitude as well as one of the most supportive flowers in Sora's life - tells her that she should spread her wings freely... Indicating that she's still restraining herself, putting all these labels and characteristics onto herself, regardless of whether they (still) fit her or not (which can be indirectly applied to her gender representation and maybe even to her sexual orientation as well). And that is why we may have to wait until Adventure Beyond to see how things will resolve for her.

I for one cannot wait to see her new design. Because, unlike the three boys I had previously analyzed, her fashion (and hobby) themes may have repeating elements as well, but are pretty inconsistent and thus basically also stand for her inner turmoil. This is not just about whether she should wear pants or skirts, hats or hairclips, whether she should cut her hair super short or let it grow out into perfect braiding length... There appears to be a tendency to put her in a box, both in canon (mostly self-imposed) and fanon, where she has to pick one side and one side only, no matter what it's about: tomboy or feminine, football or tennis, flower arrangement or fashion design, pants or skirt, to fight or not to fight, Taichi or Yamato...

Personally, as much as I have my issues with Tri and To Sora and even though they haven't solved any of her problems for good - I believe they still gave us a hint of how Sora's trauma (her fallout with her mother up until her dark cave moment) may have manifested. That's why I call 02 the "experimental phase", because she may have adapted to her mother a little too much without giving her own preferences a voice. Pleasing her to get closer to her - just like "big sister/mom friend Sora" in Tri caters to everybody's needs but her own - and eventually snaps.

By the winter period of 02, she seemed a little more grounded (indicated by how well she mixed all her favourite colours) and Tri tried to imply how she got interested in designing in the first place (indicated by how much variation her wardrobe had). But we could also observe that she hadn't gotten better at communicating her own desires and needs, that the pent-up anger she had displayed since OWG was still present... Culminating in Kizuna, where her bond to Piyomon was on the verge of breaking, showing her being unsure of who she even was in the first place. So we're currently in the soul-searching phase, as she pulled herself back from everyone...

I long for the day she decides to let her friends back into her life. For the day she and Piyomon will reunite. And maybe, just maybe, we will see her in a style that shows: "Yes, this is my own choice. But I don't have to choose one thing only over all the others. No labeling, no externally assigned identities anymore. There is a flower on this kimono I made, I'm wearing blue football sneakers with a yellow sunflower on top - because I found my own balance between all the different things that make me me."

[caxde]

You said I can send requests and I'm gonna take you up on that offer, my friend.

I'm still in my SoftDad!Eddie brain rot. I'm rolling with the "Dada's Princess" here and imagining little Lua making a flower crown for Princess. Or them making them together to both be "Dada's Princess". Because I knowwwww just the sight of it would make Eddie just melt into a puddle.

Also, love your writing and your beautiful mind for creating such a cute story so far!

💜

Omg thank you soo much <33 i love getting request so this is ideal i ran with the flower crowns idea hope you like it <33 feel free to request anything you like!

bright eyes universe drabble ~1.6k girl!dad eddie

Spring was in full bloom. 

You had a day off, and you decided to sleep in, letting the sun rays that sneak in through your window slowly wake you up. It was recomforting, the mundane feeling of it all. 

So you enjoyed a hot long shower, singing every song that played on the tape that Eddie had gifted you as a thank you to watching over Lua. It had a little of them both, Bowie and The Smiths had been Lua’s idea -that much was clear- Metallica and Iron Maiden had to be his, but the Led Zeppelin and Fleetwood Mac -you thought- Eddie had chosen because he had heard you singing them when you didn’t even notice you were doing so. A level of attention you were just realising now, in that moment as the hot water hitted your sore back. 

A slow morning called for a hot tea, like the ones you used to make for yourself before you had any real responsibilities. 

Your hair still somehow wet, brushed away from your face, and that gow that a much needed shower left on your face, you felt clean, soft from once. You grabbed the first clean top that was on your folded laundry pile, a baby blue colour that complimented your skin, some washed up dark jeans to cover your legs. 

You walked to your porch, wanting to let your hair dry while you just drank your cup. 

Little did you know, a little surprised waited in your door. 

A letter was hanging on your door, with a small yet thick piece of duct tape. 

Lilac drawings of misshaped stars and hearts decorated the page. 

It read: 

“Duchess Lua of the mighty Hawkins Trailer Park would like to invite Princess to her court outing this afternoon. We shall have a refreshing picnic by the lake, please, confirm your assistance with Eddie the Once Banished. 

Sincerely your dearest friend, Duchess Lua Munson.” 

It made you giggle, and blush at the same time. You could tell Eddie had put some thought into it, and the drawings Lua had made to the best of her ability made you want to keep this letter forever. 

Which you did, you folded neatly, letting it rest on your bedside table, before you found a place in your wall to hang it on. 

You walked back up. The cup let out a clicking sound when the little spoon made contact with it, once you set it down into the floor. 

You sat on the little steps, writing on your little pad that was pressed against your thighs, a response that was just as grandiose as the ask had been. 

It read: 

“Princess is more than happy to accept her Duchess Lua Munson invitation, and would like to know at what time she’s expected to arrive at her delightful trailer for the outing. Princess would like to inform Lady Munson that she’s excited to see her, and will make a treat for the picnic.” 

You decided to leave a little red kiss as your signature. A little present that Eddie will cherish for a longer time that you had thought. 

A stupid thought crossed your brain -more than a thought, an image- the two letters resting side by side, the paper now turning yellow, framed on a wall that the both of you share, Lua’s older now, maybe not the only daughter. 

You had to shake your head, so you wouldn’t get too caught into the dream, snap back into reality. 

-

Maybe it was stupid, or a bit childish but you were excited nonetheless. You switched your jeans for a flowy white sundress, the skirt reached your knees, the fabric had a faded small flower print all over. It was girly, but it was also spring, and for once, you didn’t care. 

Your hair was free of any ponytails, or buns or anything like that, and it felt good to let it fall down, being so used to pushing it away from your face when you were working. 

Eddie was a bit lost in you, not really focusing on what he should. 

Lua was holding your hand, and you both were walking in front of him. He was holding the bags with the food and everything you had prepared -with the added things he already had- and he let himself be lost onto the fantasy. 

Lua was telling you about the book he had just started reading for her as a bedtime story, and you kept asking questions, and she yapped in her mumbling voice as much and as excitedly as she could. He saw himself in her in those moments, when her tongue moved faster than her brain and she’d choke on her own words. Her free hand swanged in the air, and when she got caught on a word, she touched it, as a way to comfort herself. Eddie was starting to struggle to not tell you right there how he was feeling. How he was starting to get those scary big feelings. How he could actually see a life with you in it. 

Eddie didn’t want to scare you. 

So when you got close enough to the Lover’s Lake, and while you and Lua looked around for some spring flowers, he set the cloth down, the little sandwiches he had made on one side, chips for Lua, and a bit of cheese that you liked on the left side. The sponge cake you baked, and the rest of your -half eaten- chocolate bar on the right side. He got the drinks, begging you not to spend more things. 

He got a thermos of your favourite tea -he had finally learned how to make it and was eager to see your reaction- water and chocolate milk for Lua, and soda for him. Though deep down he knew he’d end up drinking your tea. 

He opened his arms as soon as he saw Lua running to him, her arms opened, her fist holding tightly to the wildflowers she had picked, you followed her closely, your laughter filling the air in his lungs. 

You kept laughing, everytime Eddie found something new to do, just so he could hear you. And in consequence, Lua chuckled along. From afar, it already looked out of a picture book, but what he couldn’t quite understand is how it felt like it too. 

“Dada?” Lua asked, once she had finished her piece of cake, spinning around so she could look at him. 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you braid?” She pointed at her hair, a question he had to avoid a bit too often. 

“Bug, I’m rubbish at it, you know it.” He tried to plead with her, once again his voice gave in, breaking a bit. He had a tendency to do that when he had to tell her no, as if it would soften the blow. 

“Please?” She asked again, her eyebrows raising just like he did when he was asking for something he deeply wanted. You had seen that look when he didn’t want you to leave, or he wanted another kiss. With a soft giggle, you looked at the little scene, hoping to not intrude too much. 

“I can, if uh… if that’s okay.” Lua cheered and sat on your lap before you even knew if it was okay or not. 

You knew it was, Eddie had that thank you look on his face. 

He decided to do what he actually had learned, way back when he wasn’t living here, back when his mother lived. He knotted some of the wildflowers together, concertraing enough on it that his tongue covered his top lip, hearing his mother's voice singing low one to the top and knot over and over in his head. 

For once it wasn’t a painful memory. 

Rather a joyful one. 

Now it was his two little princesses and his mother’s voice. 

He placed it on top of your head, a kiss on your temple following it shortly after. 

“What’d you do?” You asked, touching your head with care. 

“Your crown, you needed one.” He points out, Lua’s eyes widened as she saw it. 

“No braid but yes crown?” She asked, not really believing the ability his dad had been hiding from her. 

“You know what we can do?” You asked her, trying to distract them both from the way your blood rushed to your cheeks. “Look.” You whispered it to her, as if it were a secret you both shared. 

You started grabbing the wildflowers that were scattered around the cloth, placing the stems in between the knots of her braids, small flowers blooming from her hair. As soon as Lua realised what you did, her hand touching it with as much care as she could gather she started screeching from laughter, a type of laugh that not only warmed you, but Eddie as well. 

She kind of jumped, though it felt more like a push, to your arms, screaming thank you repetitively, her excitement evident in her tone and gesture. 

Eddie just looked at the both of you, his little dream -much similar to yours, even if you didn’t know- nearing the reality right in front of him. 

You whispered to him, still holding Lua close to you “You’re full of surprises, huh?” 

“Anything for my girls.” The sincerity in which he said it made you blush, the widest smile on your face as you shook your head at him. 

“Idiot” You mouthed, no actual sound coming from you, careful that she wouldn’t hear a bad word. 

He inched closer to you, leaving a kiss on the highest point of your cheek, right next to your ear. 

“Hopefully yours.” He whispered. 

A promise he intended to keep.

-

requests! are open

@took-me-hours-to-steal-those @edens-vices-art @micheledawn1975 @peachystenbrough @mewchiili @bylermaxmayfield @yujyujj @honeymoonmunsonn @paleidiot @ali-r3n @sunshineandwitchery @supernaturalstilinski @womencriedpower @saramelaniemoon @cultish-corner @babyloutattoo89 @witchwolflea @serenadingtigers @readergf @guineveresghost @saramelaniemoon @angel-upon

[chaotic-orphan]

Would you write another part of June of Doom: Day 19? I loved it!

Continuation of June of doom; day nineteen:

Read part one Here

I am so sorry to whoever asked this, I have had this in my drafts for a while and just didn't have the energy to edit it, but I did now and hope it satisfies ~ enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

“Come on Leader,” Leader heard in a hazed moment of consciousness, hungry, stormy eyes gleaming down at them, “I thought you were more durable than this.”

Leader blinked, eyelids heavy, watching Supervillain lift a hand covered in blood – Leader's blood, they recognised dimly – and run it back through his hair, slicking it back off his face using Leader's blood. He looked feral, unhinged, and Leader wanted to look away. He wanted to move, but his body was as heavy as lead and all he could do was look into those bright, stormy eyes smirking down at him.

Until the darkness swallowed Leader again.

When he woke for the second time he was sitting in a chair. He was vaguely aware that his hands were asleep, tied behind his back, he found out after a jerking, pulling tug. He shouldn’t have moved, he realised in hindsight as the pins and needles set in from being stuck in the same position for too long.

Leader lifted his eyes to get his bearings and saw himself sitting ahead of him. Leader blinked, groggy from blacking out after Supervillain’s welcome. He could see it plain and clear in the mirror, his torso bare just so he could see Supervillain’s handiwork.

Bile crawled thick and hot up his throat. Leader looked away sharply, bending over his torso and only just managing to not get any vomit on himself as he threw up the contents of his stomach. It was grim and vile, but Leader felt a little better after it, spitting for good measure to clear the rancid taste from his mouth in place of mouthwash or toothpaste. He rubbed his chin on his shoulder as he sat up again, dragging reluctant eyes to the full-length mirror in front of him.

Leader only remembered Supervillain carving in two letters to his body, but the bastard must have kept working after Leader passed out.

Leader’s torso still had dried blood sticking to it, but Leader’s eyes stayed on the two jagged letters carved into each shoulder. A crooked S on his right and a ghastly F on his left.

S. Fowl was carved into his body.

A signature.

Supervillain’s promise echoed in Leader’s ears as his eyes lingered on Supervillain’s name: “You I want on display. As a warning and a trophy. A reminder to what happens to those who oppose me.”

Leader wanted to cry. He did, he should have, maybe he would feel better, but he was exhausted. He didn’t know how long he was passed out for, but his body ached from his fight with Supervillain — Fowl — and his struggle when Supervillain dragged him to the medical table.

Leader’s ribs throbbed dully, his jaw hurt from where Fowl’s cane had hit it, a big angry blue bruise the size of Leader’s hand colouring his jaw and neck. Even his throat was raw from all his screaming. He looked like shit, which he could see thanks to Supervillain’s perfectly placed mirror, to remind Leader just how shit he looked. There were lines of purple bags under his eyes, his skin was dry and lacklustre, and his lips were pale except from where the blood from Leader’s nose painted them a faded dark crimson.

The mirror was torture, seeing himself broken and marked and beaten, too afraid to move because his entire body was sore and crying at him to stay as still as he could. Supervillain had cuffed Leader’s hands behind his back, attached them to the chair so his chest stood out in the mirror.

So Supervillain’s name stood out in the mirror, more like. His own personal brand.

Leader didn’t recognise himself in the mirror, this wasn’t – it couldn’t be him. This weak shell of a person who couldn’t fight Supervillain off him. How pathetic. Too powerless to stop himself being branded. His team relied on Leader to lead them; make the plans, do the impossible. All Leader could do at the moment was stare at that fucking name on his chest, written forever…

They’ll die with that scar.

Leader let out a soft sigh.

“Leader…” it was Medic. Leader closed his eyes. He was sitting in a chair in the centre of their circle of cages. The mirror was just a little in front of the door, reflecting the cages back at Leader from behind him.

Medic’s cage to be exact, who was looking at him through the mirror with wide eyes filled with pity. Leader didn’t need their pity; he shouldn’t have let this happen. He should have been ready for Supervillain he should have—

Leader’s hands balled into fists in the cuffs. He couldn’t see that look in Medic’s eyes again.

“Leader… we’re okay,” Medic said softly. Leader sniffed, unaware that he was crying. “Supervillain kept his promise, and he didn’t touch us. He brought us food. Brought us to the bathroom. We have water.”

“In dog bowls,” Rogue muttered in disgust. Leader wasn’t aware that they were all awake. Shame burned hot up Leader’s neck, colouring it red.

“I’m sorry,” Leader whispered. “This is all my fault. None of you would be here if it wasn’t for me, I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere, Leader,” said Rogue without hesitation. Leader opened his eyes, glancing at Rogue’s cage and saw them sitting at the front bars, expression one of unflinching earnest.

“We’ll get out of here, Leader,” said Medic behind him, determined. “We always do.”

“You just can’t give up hope,” Youngest piped up. “Not with that bastard, Leader. You’re better than him. When we’re finished with him, you can carve your name on his chest.”

“Exactly,” said Medic, a smile in their voice. “You just have to stay strong, Leader. We’re all here with you. Supervillain can try, but he can’t beat us all.”

“How touching,” Supervillain said. Leader’s head whipped back to the door; he didn’t hear it open. Only Supervillain didn’t come in through the door, in the mirror Leader could see him standing behind Leader’s cage, that same horrible smirk in his eyes, face impassive as always, neutral, sending a shiver down Leader’s spine he suppressed as best as he could.

“Do you like your new addition, Leader? I was so proud of it myself, but I thought it was so good it just needed to be shared. You needed to see it for yourself.”

“Kinda weird you kept going after I passed out, Supervillain, I doubt I could have given proper consent.”

Supervillain stared into Leader’s cool eyes through the mirror, the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly, as he said as if it was a completely civil conversation: “Mutilation is hardly ever conducted with consent.”

“You don’t know,” Leader said with an effortless shrug that almost winded him but was glad to see he looked fine in the mirror. “Maybe I was into it.”

“If you like we can go again,” Supervillain purred, walking up behind Leader and putting a hand over his last name. The heat from his hand was enough to make Leader wince, and he cried out as Supervillain dug his fingers into Leader’s chest. “Although… you still seem pretty raw to me, Leader.”

“If you keep doing that, you’re risking infection!” Medic cried, trying to draw Supervillain’s attention away from Leader.

“Oh Medic,” Supervillain cooed, looking at them through the mirror, but Leader didn’t really care what he was doing because as Supervillain spoke, he dug his fingers deeper into Leader’s chest and Leader was screaming. The pain was white hot, blinding and Leader swore he was seeing stars as the world tilted hazily around him.

After what felt like an eternity, Supervillain let go of Leader. Leader doubled over, the handcuffs clanging the only thing keeping Leader in the chair as he gasped in lungfuls of air that his screams had stolen from him.

Nausea climbed Leader’s throat again as Supervillain walked over to Medic’s cage.

“Don’t…” Leader wheezed pathetically, even to his own ears.

“Relax,” Supervillain chided politely, waving away Leader’s concern. Leader could only watch through bleary eyes as Supervillain started unlocking Medic’s cage.

“Don’t… tou—” Leader said but was cut off by Rogue’s menacing:

“Get off them!” Rogue growled, kicking at the bars of their cage. Youngest was quiet, and the silence was a welcome relief to Leader. One Rogue was enough, and Supervillain was brutal.

Supervillain offered a hand to Medic, but Medic stood up on their own and nearly let out a sigh at being able to be vertical for the first time in who knows how long.

“Come now, Medic,” Supervillain scolded, voice playful but behind it was something cold that only promised pain. “Take my hand and I’ll let you look at your dear Leader, hmm? Make sure he doesn’t get an infection.”

Leader swallowed; mouth suddenly dry as Medic took Supervillain’s hand. Supervillain’s fingers closed tightly around Medic’s like a vice and Leader knew something was wrong with the scene, but he couldn’t think of what it was. His brain sluggish and muggy like a swamp Leader’s thoughts were trudging through.

Fuck.

Maybe he did get an infection from Supervillain’s branding.

Supervillain led Medic over to Leader and grabbed a fistful of Leader’s hair yanking his head up to face him. Medic protested, but Supervillain still hadn’t let go of Medic’s hand so all they could do was try and pry Supervillain’s fingers off of them.

“It’s bad manners not to look someone in the eye, Leader.”

“If you want to talk about manners let’s start with your hospitality, Supervillain,” Leader ground out. He just saw the flash of Medic’s exasperated face, before Supervillain’s fist blocked it from view and Leader’s head slammed back, blood dripping from his nose.

“Sorry, Medic, he has a really punchable face,” said Supervillain conversationally, then let go of both Leader and Medic and stepped back. “Whatever you need, Medic, just make sure he won’t die for round two.”

Medic whirled on Supervillain, eyes wide. “Round two?”

“Did I or did I not say that I want Leader on display? He is going to live a long, long life by my side or at my feet, or whatever way I want him. The only reason you’re looking him over, and not another doctor, is merely convenience, Medic, so don’t give me that wide eyed Bambi look when I say I want to hurt him again. Like I said, Leader has a very punchable face.”

“What about us?” Medic demanded, taking a step forward. Leader relaxed back into his chair, craning his neck back to see Supervillain’s face. He was smiling. Like that was exactly what Supervillain wanted them to say.

Wait, Supervillain was smiling?

Leader did a double take and just stared, not believing his eyes.

Supervillain was… Leader didn’t think he knew how to smile, and it looked wrong on his face. Hollow, twisted, hungry and vicious.

That meant nothing good.

The realisation dropped like a stone into Leader’s chest, and he looked over at Youngest and Rogue’s cages, but they were gone. How? Leader didn’t even see—

He was too focused on Medic.

He knew it was too quiet.

“Medic!” Leader cried, shooting to his feet and shouldering Medic out of the way of Supervillain. His head swam but Leader didn’t care as he planted a foot and pivoted the chair’s legs towards Supervillain. They made impact and Leader heard a satisfying oomf from Supervillain as he faced Medic.

Their devil-may-care smile melting off his face as he saw Supervillain's Henchman come up behind Medic, needle in hand. Leader wanted to shout in warning, but the words were too slow.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, and yet too quick to wrap his head around.

Leader shot forward like a bull on instinct, Medic dodging at the last second, before Leader collided with Henchman. The pair toppled to the ground, Leader on top snarling at Henchman below but unable to get themselves back up to defend Medic.

A hand on the back of his chair and Leader was dragged back up, all four legs on the ground and Medic was kicking the needle out of Henchman's hand and stomped on their face with a satisfying crack.

Medic looked back up at Leader, eyes bright from the brawl and then they went to Supervillain behind Leader, and they froze. All blood draining from their face.

“Even two of you is enough to cause this much trouble,” Supervillain said, voice cutting through the room like ice. “I’m going to give you two options Leader,” said Supervillain coolly. Then: “Bambi, be a dear and turn Leader to me, would you?”

Wordlessly, Medic turned Leader’s chair and Leader understood Medic’s silence. Supervillain held a gagged Youngest up, an arm around Youngest’s shoulder and his stupid hidden dagger from his cane at their throat. The same knife he used to carve his name on Leader’s chest, Leader realised. His heart lurched and his stomach churned, fear rooting him to the spot. Youngest’s hands were bound in front of them and there were terrified tears spilling from their eyes.

Leader felt winded again, but when he met Supervillain’s eyes he was filled with a powerless kind of hatred.

“Do I have your attention now?” Supervillain asked, voice cool.

Leader’s throat felt like sandpaper, tongue heavy and dry as he replied with a raspy— “yes.”

“I have come to the conclusion, Leader, that there is no chance of getting you to submit to me while you are surrounded by your teammates. You have too much bravado around them, they encourage you too much. To — what was it you said, Bambi? “You’ll get out of here together, you always do? We’re all here with you. Supervillain can try, but he can’t beat us all.””

Leader could see Medic still from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Youngest, shaking in Supervillain’s grip.

“Fine,” Leader said, licking his lips, trying to add moisture to his mouth but it didn’t do anything to stop the raspiness, “you let them go.”

Supervillain smiled and pressed the knife into Youngest’s throat just enough to draw blood. Medic and Leader lurched forward but were stopped at Supervillain’s soft: “ah-ah-ah. Move and the kid dies on the spot, Medic. Do you want to test how good your medical skills are right now?”

Medic stepped back, shaking with anger and adrenaline, but they stepped back.

Supervillain looked between the pair and the hideous, gruesome light returned to his eyes. “Isn’t this nice, huh? Just a nice easy hostage situation with you two too concerned for Youngest’s safety to think of any witticisms? I could do this all day just to hear that silence.”

“It’s not – it’s not silence if you fill it with the sound of your own voice.”

Supervillain’s eyes narrowed in confusion. He was looking at Leader and Medic and they didn’t speak. Didn’t open their mouths at least, but Medic and Leader were staring at Youngest like kids who just talked back to their parents and were waiting for the punishment to begin.

Supervillain took the knife from Youngest’s throat and gently turned them around to face him, the cloth Henchman had gagged them with now loose around Youngest’s skinny neck. Their eyes had that same spark of defiance that made them want to kill Leader on his bad days. Days when he wasn’t in control.

“I should have expected as much,” said Supervillain, raising his chin, turning his nose up at Youngest’s defiance.

“Leader has corrupted you, Youngest, but don’t worry. I’ll fix you,” Supervillain said, grabbing Youngest by the throat and squeezing slightly. Youngest jerked back, trying and failing to fight Supervillain off. He was twice Youngest’s size, and one hand nearly wrapped all the way around their throat, not applying pressure. Not yet, but Youngest still panicked.

“Just— fucking— let me go—” Youngest cried, struggling to wrench themselves free. Supervillain sighed. With a deft flick of their wrist silver flashed through the air and Youngest gasped, screwing their eyes shut bracing for the worst. The blow never came and just when that thought registered in Youngest’s mind they heard Leader grunt in pain.

“Leader!” Medic cried and Youngest’s eyes were open, staring into Supervillain’s triumphant ones.

“Medic, you move, and Youngest dies.”

“You fucking bastard!” Medic cried. Youngest looked over their shoulder and saw Leader with the knife in his shoulder, just above the clavicle and they couldn’t stop the trembling at seeing what Supervillain did because of them.

“Leader will be fine, as long as you all behave. This was a good lesson to learn before you’re all separated.”

“You said—” Leader breathed, voice strained. “You said you were giving… giving me two options.”

Supervillain smiled.

“Oh. I was. Then your subordinates pissed me off and now I’m not letting any of you go. Especially Bambi and Youngest here, they’re just too fun. Rogue on the other hand, well,” Supervillain’s smile widened at the mix of helpless fury and pain twisting Leader’s features into something close to desperation, something close to submission. “Rogue, I could just slit their throat and leave them in a ditch, and you wouldn’t know any better, Leader, would you?”

Leader’s breath was coming out laboured and ragged. This was too much. This was too much, the pain was too much, and he couldn’t move, he couldn’t fight, he couldn’t talk his way out of this. It felt like everything was slipping, and it was all his fault. If he had predicted the blade in the cane, then none of this would have happened.

The blade that was currently imbedded in his shoulder.

He lost focus for a moment.

A moment too long.

And it got everyone he loved here. Trapped. Just as powerless as Leader was to protect them.

“Leader,” it was Youngest. Their voice so quiet, so lost, looking for what they had to do, because Leader always knew.

Leader swallowed the lump in his throat, shaking his head slowly, voice hoarse. “Don’t act out. Don’t rebel, do whatever Supervillain tells you without question or hesitation—”

“Leader?!” Medic cried, panic colouring their voice as they kneeled in front of Leader, trying to catch his eye. “Leader you can’t just—”

Leader looked at Medic then, his eyes pleading and hard, and Medic swallowed the rest of their sentence. It hurt, it hurt more than anything to see Medic have to accept their fate, fighting back the tears gathering behind their eyes.

Leader spoke before he lost his nerve, he refused to crack in front of Supervillain. He looked at Youngest’s lost expression, like a little kid being told Santa isn’t real and remembered how young they were… then he looked at Medic and his expression softened as he gave the orders to protect them as much as he could. To protect themselves when Leader wasn’t there to do it for them.

“Remember when you want to react or scream or fight, that it won't be you that Supervillain hurts, it will be someone else. This is the best we can do for each other now. We're still a team, we're still stronger together, even when we're apart,” Leader said, confident defiance still emanating from his gaze as he met Supervillain's eyes in a challenge. “Even Supervillain can't stop us looking out for each other. Remember that.”

A corner of Supervillain's lips curled up in a half smirk, surprised at the gall of Leader to look at him with that much cocky assuredness that they won't break in Supervillain's care.

Supervillain would prove him wrong.

“We'll see,” Supervillain hummed, smiling eyes narrowed, locked on Leader's.

Challenge accepted.

Supervillain’s eyes turned to Medic, finally letting Youngest go with a gentle shove backwards. Youngest stumbled a step and regained their footing, glaring at Supervillain.

“You first, Bambi, since you seem to love the drama of it all.”

Medic didn’t say a word. They just glanced at Leader who nodded his head slightly. Medic walked towards Supervillain and willingly gave themselves up. It put a spear of fear through Leader’s heart to see Supervillain put his hands on Medic, but Leader forced himself to be still. To not react. That was what Supervillain wanted, he wasn’t going to give it to him.

“Oh, Youngest?” Supervillain asked, voice deceptively sweet. Youngest didn’t answer. Supervillain didn’t even hesitate to slap Medic across the face, eliciting a shocked gasp from Medic. Leader’s handcuffs rattled and Supervillain’s cruel grey eyes got brighter, and said again: “will we try that again?”

“Yes,” said Youngest.

Supervillain’s face settled into one of neutrality. “Yes what?” he asked, voice as cold as the arctic.

“Yes sir,” Youngest bit out, their voice cracking on sir.

“Be a dear and keep Leader company while I bring Bambi to their new cell, will you?”

Youngest hesitated again, but this time Leader nudged them with his foot and Youngest said again, more demoralised now: “yes sir.”

“Good. Sit by Leader’s leg like a good little dog, I insist,” and Youngest sank to the floor, slumping beside Leader’s chair, bound hands still in front of them. “See, Leader? They can be trained to be civilised. I’ll be back soon.”

Youngest and Leader watched scornfully as Supervillain led Medic out of the room. Watched them disappear from view, powerless to stop it happening. Leader just sat handcuffed to the chair, knife imbedded in his shoulder, Youngest tied up by his side and let out a long, shaky sigh.

He didn’t know how they were going to get out of this, or what they’d have to endure, he just had to believe that they would, because… well, to think anything else would be blasphemous and Leader didn’t think he’d be able to survive if he started going down that rabbit hole.

[wolfcroissant]

Wriothesley Headcannons (Best friends to lovers) (any gender reader) PART 2 (ENJOY!!!) (This will be slow burn)

Let's give some context first. It's now nearing the end of middle school and the start of high school.

Wriothesley's feelings have grown stronger, ever since you both started middle school

You notice the little things first. Longer, lingering hugs; his little blush when you explain your passions and dreams to him; and his newly found habit of resting his hand around your waist.

He also got a bit more clingy, more observant, with you feeling his gaze studying you when you are playing sports after school. Often, you'd find him in the stands waiting for you after practice to walk you home!

You do feel quite safe with him walking home in the evening, his strong, built frame washing away all worries as you walk. You can't help but notice the noticeable lines and ridges on his arms; relaxed, defined muscles from his hobby as a boxer. You definitely have had to keep your eyes from straying to his chest when you talked to him, from observing the taut muscles that hides underneath his shirt. He caught you staring once, and he never let's it go, teasing you senseless:). He also would always carry your sports gear for you, despite you telling hin that he not need be so courteous.

You would arrive home, exhausted from practice, but safe nonetheless. You would look up to meet his gaze, realizing that his sudden growth spurt in middle school made him the taller person in this duo, with you losing your title as the tallest. He would gently put your sports bag and backpack down before he hugged you. His hugs felt different to you. You could feel the warmth of his body as he hugged you tightly, almost like he was afraid of losing you. You would return the hug, feeling your worries melt away. You'd then stop the hug and wave goodbye to him, as he walked across the street to his home

You try to deny it at first, but you can't help it. Everything you see him, you feel blood rush into your cheeks, your throat go dry, as you see his signature smirk everytime he sees you in the morning. The once innocent one arm hugs he gives you in class suddenly felt almost possessive ,With you feeling a tingle down your spine has his hand snakes around your lower back to your side.

You start to notice the little details about him. The soft, fluffy jet black hair that he has, with grey highlights. His large, coarse, yet gentle hands (He always makes the most perfect origami animals for you). The stormy blue colour of his eyes, reminiscent of the dark blue clouds on a stormy summer day; And most noticeably, his little quips and jokes that always gets a rise out of you, no matter your mood( we love humour in this house)

(Off topic, but I firmly believe that wriothesley would definitely be good at barbecuing. He gives off "bbq party in the summer" vibes. He def cooks a mean steak 🫶)

Part 3?

[vashtijoy]

whose phone is that, anyway? character signature colours and yoshizawa's phone

There is a perennial debate over what's going on with Yoshizawa's phone. Isn't it Kasumi's phone that she's dragging around for reasons? What's even wrong with it, and why?

I have no opinion on the last two questions (other than that her difficulty communicating likely symbolises the things she's hiding from herself and others.) But I do think we can put that first question, of ownership, to bed.

First let's take a quick look at...

character colour coding

Most playable characters in P5 are assigned a colour, which is used more-or-less consistently for various things. For instance, their chat icons use them:

Their gloves use them. Makoto is the exception here with white gloves (perhaps because she uses fist weapons, so her gloves are always hidden?):

More to the point? Their phones are all colour coded:

Clockwise from the top: Ryuji (gold), Ann (hot pink), Yusuke (pale blue), Haru (purple), Futaba (green) and Makoto (dark blue).

royal trio: joker

The Royal Trio throw this nice little arrangement for an absolute loop.

First off, let's take a look at Joker. Silver phone (you may have observed it). No chat icon that we ever see to my knowledge, though it seems highly unlikely that he wouldn't have a red one. And indeed, his gloves are red. (as you may also have observed)

royal trio: akechi

Our resident Gemini, of course, stomps in with his steel-capped kicker boots and does everything twice. He's got two pairs of gloves, which match his apparent alignment (white or black, with his "day gloves" being black):

And his phone? Well, it's red (though the anime has it as dark grey, because, again, never not extra). Because, to this day, he's still playing hero—with the emphasis by now very much on "playing"—and part of him still wants to be the hero....

So Joker and Akechi have a reverse colour scheme going on with their phones: Joker has the silver/white/colourless phone that you might expect Akechi to have, and Akechi has the red one you'd expect Joker to have. Or rather, Joker has the "bad guy" phone while Akechi has the "good guy" phone, because he's a fucking liar and because each of them, to a greater or lesser extent, is walking that line between hero and villain.

As for his chat icon, it was grey in vanilla [source], while in Royal it was changed to brown. So: two sets of gloves, two chat icons, two phones (if we count the anime). Complicated.

what about yoshizawa?

Just like Joker and Akechi, Yoshizawa is too cool to be bound by any stupid dress code... pretty much. Her outfit is essentially girl Joker, and so her gloves are red, like his. Her chat icon is a deep purply-pink—more hot pink than Ann's, in fact, whose colour hot pink is!

It's possible her icon is meant to be red, but it's been shifted to purply-pink because a red icon on a red background would look bad.

But there are a couple of other things we can look at. And they tell us it's incredibly likely that the malfunctioning phone Yoshizawa carries through the game is not Kasumi's, but her own.

Remember that Yoshizawa's codename, Violet, is taken from her true given name Sumire—which means "violet". In Maruki's Palace, there's a cinematic of her with the real Kasumi during their accident, where both girls have umbrellas. Kasumi's is yellow—but Sumire's?

It's violet. And what colour is Yoshizawa's phone, when she pulls it out on 10/3, still believing that she's Kasumi?

It's violet. Violet for her true name, violet for her codename. Violet like the umbrella she carried when Kasumi died. This is clearly Sumire's phone, not Kasumi's.

Why is it broken? Still damaged in the accident, maybe?—Sumire is knocked flying. Unconsciously sabotaged? Space pixies? Who knows.