#two faves............h

[tequiilasunriise]

Possible nicknames Lenore called Annabel in life go:

"Anniebell": Sometimes the smallest changes are the cutest, okay? Anniebell Lee sounds adorable as hell and I'll stick by it. Imagine Annabel trying to admonish Lenore for saying some wild shit at a Rich Persons Gala™️ or smth but she keeps breaking out into giggles like, "You- you can't just say that pet!" and Lenore playfully replying, "Oh whatever do you mean, Anniebell Lee?" like UGH I hate them somebody throw hammers at em already 💥💥🔨🔨🔨

“My moon”: in relation to the Annabel Lee poem (‘for the moon never beams/Without bringing me dreams/Of the wonderful Annabel Lee’) and also there’s smth so flavorful of the character with a color palette more akin to the Sun (long shiny blonde hair, warm colored eyes, seemingly more outwardly personality, etc) being called the moon like I loveee contrasting design choices‼️‼️

“Angel”: Also a reference to the poem (but like, worse because it was the angels that separated em) and can be easily pulled from Annabel’s name

“Petal”: Or some other variation of a flower based nickname because imma sad, sad bisexual who loves ✨flower motifs✨ just a bit too much

Anything in Dutch: This can be like common ones like “liefje” (darling) or the previous entries but in Dutch idk go crazy go stupid

“Locket”: An unconventional pick pulled from Annabel’s last name Whitlock + lockets containing pieces of hair from your other half being T H E romantic gesture of the century back then, so, like. Idk. Hear me out like okay I think Lenore could be the unconventional route (I mean girly already faked her death via arson and pulled a Mulan to get the girl soooo you see what I’m putting down?) and like like LIKKEEE⁉️⁉️⁉️ Imagine with me Lenore telling her girl, “You’re the locket I keep nearest to my heart” (many necklaces back then had a chain just long enough for the locket to rest above the wearer’s heart) and it evolves to Lenore calling Annabel smth like “my dearest, my locket” LIKE YOU HAVE TO IMAGINE WITH ME!!! GUYS MY VISION IS VISIONING!!! 🦅🗣️🌈🗣️🗣️🦅🦅🌈🗣️🦅🦅

@incorrect-nevermore cmere and witness my madness

[hyugaruma]

It’s a good day to daydream about Jesse and that shitty little smirk of his

[droodlebug]

i dont think you should focus super hard on getting defences in artifight but i cant help bur feel sad for janis knowing she will probably never be drawn for an attack because shes fat and hairy which sucks bc she is so cutee anyone attacking is missing out on her 😩

[paul-simon-juggling]

Tonight I bring you two increasingly chaotic Simon & Garfunkel anecdotes, courtesy of Penny Marshall from her autobiography, "My Mother Was Nuts."

[britainstreasure-archive]

okay wrestling fans ! this is the weekend jonah plays his second annual how tore can i get at wrestlemania drinking game.

[biitchcakes]

Captain Marvel Vol. 7 Issue 13 ┃ Secret Avengers Vol. 3 Issue 5

( personals DNI. )

[vonuberwald]

I've found that if I've been in a creative slump in drawing or writing, doing an OC scrapbook has really released the guilt. As in, I have an OC, I am doing a scrapbook journal as if it was them doing it. Very cathartic. Best part is, it's very low pressure, it is literally just for you when you feel very low energy. Just do one or two pages or just as many as you like. It also helps you spend some time away from a screen so you're not doom-scrolling Pinterest for ideas and get distracted by other shiny things.

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

As someone who has played FE since FE7 came out in the west and have since played the games prior to and after it, I really don’t see how Engage is “the best FE game of all time” and yadda yadda that people keep claiming. Just because it has more customization and “freedom” doesn’t... automatically make it a better game? Personally I get more aggravated when there’s too much freedom and too many options for gameplay. Even Houses had a tad too much customization that I rarely use because it had so many menus and I love Houses.

Sure, I liked Engage, but I can’t see why it’s suddenly the bestest theeng evur just because it’s the newest entry. I had more fun with Hopes playing AG than the entirety of Engage, and I can compare them because they both reused old characters, so there was a similar feeling of interest being able to see old characters again. Other than that, I’m interested in like... two, maybe three characters tops in Engage.

Soren is pretty much the only Emblem perfectly on point who wasn’t almost entirely generic with conversations. Sigurd had fewer generic conversations and was completely ooc, so that was a big fat wah wah for me (because as we all know, IntSys pretends canon Sigurd does not exist in the whole franchise now and only uses ghost!Sigurd’s like five lines of dialogue as his only and whole personality).

Honestly I think I’m kind of getting bitter toward Engage as an entry because people keep saying it’s the best FE game ever made, especially for gameplay (big ol’ lel from me), but it’s almost always at the expense of Three Houses in one way or another, about how Houses is a worse game. It’s... really not. Oh noooo, they didn’t use anti-aliasing, the whole game suuucks. 😒

(Oh yeah, and FE9 was supposed to be the original hub world game where you got to run around at a base camp and all that fun stuff, so uhhh... that kind of thing has nothing to do with newer entries being better and all that stuff.)

Also, I am being 110% more critical of these people and Engage right now because I have a headache and have felt pretty crappy without even being sick for the past few days. :’)

[bluejayblueskies]

10 fandoms / 10 characters / 10 tags

tagged by @prismatic-et-al - thank you!!!

jonathan sims - the magnus archives

john doe - malevolent

edward teach - our flag means death

wilde - rusty quill gaming

bruno madrigal - encanto

polly - hello from the hallowoods

guillermo de la cruz - what we do in the shadows

andrew minyard - all for the game

castiel - supernatural

adam parrish - the raven cycle

i'll tag @dathen, @shadow0haven, @organchordsandlightning, @sqwormywormy, @f0xesand0wls, @journalofimprobablethings, @anonymoussong, @judesstfrancis, @drunkenartwhore, and @three-magpies-in-a-trenchcoat (and anyone else who would like to!)

[handgiven]

💋

send ‘💋’ for a kiss from my muse / @spookyagentfmulder

an atom and a star on a hike. the fog-cled mountains provided refuge from wandering gazes and the bushes splattered with cranberries offered themselves up to their lips for a sour greeting of the landscape. safe space carved into nature's very lap. carved gently with tender touch and whispered remarks upon their surroundings. holy as the connection itself.

the angel led the agent by the hand, fingers gently interlocked, palms not touching. tangled up together but with space for free movement. subtle charge of static accompanying the slightest changes in pressure. gentle, gentle. quiet morning, and fresh cool air pouring itself over earth in an especially comforting manner.

walking, slowly. taking it all in. no more running. no more music. just the unbearable lightness of being and being together. low stakes, no danger and no distractions aside from nature offering herself up to them at every step. questions, calm and thoughtful. there was still urgency to mulder stringing his words together but hand in hand he was reassured again and again that all would be answered, there was no reason for despair.

under the canopy of sky cradled tenderly by vibrant branches of beech trees one question in particular gripped hold where an angel's heart would be. 'what is all this?' their steps paused and the birdsongs became all the louder to fill this newly-found silence. horror vacui. oh but the silence was all but empty. inspired by the loving branches the angel too would cradle mulder's face, looking into his eyes thoughtfully for a moment as if divining the answer from their very depth. a few seconds later he would answer, contented. "adoration without measure, my dear."

a confession sealed with a tender kiss surrounded by haze of difference between temperatures. between them and the cool morning air.

[sternbagel]

Happy birthday to me! My list surprised literally nobody, including myself

[erigold13261]

I love how some people just come into your inbox rainbow beaming (aka queer HCs to everyone) their faves

And they are doing a damn good job of it! o7

But seriously, it's a lot of fun seeing what people come up with. Also really nice that even if people don't agree/share a specific headcanon, they can still be respectful of it.

Honestly don't know how many people send me in things since it's almost always anonymous. Could be 5 or could be 20, but either way, people just seem to build up on each other's ideas and I just love that a whole lot!

Like, as an example, people using exclusively they/it for Hobie while coming into my askbox is just so nice to see! I'm sure some people don't see Hobie using only they/it, maybe it uses neopronouns or all pronouns, or maybe just using he/him in a queer way (or not queer at all), but they are nice enough to respect this little space I was able to make and use these headcanons I use (and others who follow me).

I don't know, it's just really nice! I try to validate people who send in queer headcanons (or just any hc) even when I don't share that headcanon myself. It's just fun to share and talk about stuff!

One of the examples I can think of mainly when I think of this, is how a lot of the fanbase sees Zimelu as a guy (or trans guy) while I and some others I know see Zimelu as a trans girl using she/her pronouns. If someone wants to send an ask about transguy Zimelu, or hc Zimelu as just cis using he/him, I'd be super happy to talk about it even though my personal hc is she/her transgirl Zim.

Sorry, that was a bit of a ramble. And I KNOW I've talked about this before. But it really is just so nice that I was able to make a little bubble where people can send me in their headcanons and (for the most part) I answer them and we can have fun little discussions!

[meetmymouth]

social media au: harry and y/n are besties. really good besties. featuring LOTS of tweets, memes, insta posts and harry being horny in the comments section.

note; i rarely use a face claim. for this one, i somehow (it just happened) used gracie abrams. there’s not many photos of her, though. hope u still find something funny below to enjoy either way.

liked by yn and others

lloyddddddddddddddddd Love On Tour. Nothing I can type here can describe what the past 18 months have been like for me. I’ve loved every second. Thank you so much to everyone involved and to all of the incredible people Ive met along the way for making it a truly phenomenal experience.  And ofc a special thank you to @harrystyles for bringing me along, what a boy.  Hope you all enjoyed the pics 💘

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bradgouldtraining Best in da game

ynsgolden LLOYD ITS SEVEN IN THE MORNING!!!!!!!

glenne_azoff @yn

paulithepsm @yn

harryshoehouse bet u were giggling taking the second pic

lolharryshouse why's everyone tagging y/n lmao

harrysgrapejuice EVERYONE TAGGING Y/N JHFBSDNS

yn nice abs asshole

harrysgotthestyles YN!!!! LMAOOOOOOOOOO jessbrian ok girly we see u dianelouise JUST TEXT HIM LMAO

captainstyles someone check on y/n lmao

jeff_azoff @yn 👀

liked by harrystyles and others

yn day n night (see also: my two personalities)

View all 239,400 comments

ynsbread ok but queen

harryteheestyles sooooooo classy 🙄

harryscowboy WHOSE PILLOWS??????????

gemmastyles That t-shirt is so you.

yn thanks again 😂

bradgouldtraining 👀

anthonypham don't start yn yeah be gone mr. muscle

harrystyles 🐎

theestylees OMG HAYRY????D??@EFKCJ giawilliams ARIANA WHAT ARE U DOING HERE harrysgoldboots boY JUST TEXT HER LMAO ynshouse you guys are so h*rny for each other it's insaneeeee lovemeontour gIRLLLLLLLLLLLLL WHATS THET MEAN bradrry YOU ARE INSANE FOR THISSSSSSSSSS

liked by annetwist and others

yn i ♥️ italia

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ynxniall i recognise that eye

aveceyepatch GREEN EYES

ynsbestie i know that eye

annetwist 🥰😍😘!

goldenharry MOTHER APPROVES

ynarchive soft launch.........SOFT LAUNCH

harrystrainer girl they were eating each other's faces yesterday what soft launch are u talking about!!!!

harrystyles 🤝

fratrryy BOY BYE breadkingharry GIRLLLLLLLLL YOURE TOO MUCH zarrysheart harry.... ynspookie you're playinnnnnnn too much

bradgouldtraining Slay!

yn i will be blocking you

stylesarchive faves

jeff_azoff Slayyy.

kidharpoon Slayed

[ozzgin]

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

[Part 2] | [More original works]

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

[rpftourney]

Best RPF Ship - Round 2 Match 3

Propaganda under cut

McLennon Propaganda

The OG, the blueprint, the background love story that reverberates in every love song after them, the RPF that probs shouldn’t count as its too canon to be considered fiction. Forget Beat the Meatles, forget John showing Paul and co he and Yoko’s sex tape in the studio, forget high John cutting up the clothes of the girl Paul was sleeping with with scissors (okay, well don’t forget them exactly), this rabbit hole goes way, way deeper.

Their whole story is a mix of the most romantic bullshit cliche ever and the surrealist unhinged obsession you could possibly get, like if Love Actually and Shakespearean tragedy had a psychosexually obsessed mutant baby. There’s:

A meet cute in 1957 so iconic there’s a whole damn plaque commemorating it.

Disapproving parents who try to keep them apart, only for them to choose each other

A ‘best friend’ rival that leads to a bust-up with on stage

A trip to Paris, yes really, when John turns 21 and he takes Paul and not his gf.

A honeymoon period where their friends notice that they seem to ‘love each other more than most marriages’

A psychic bond?? As you do.

And then the break up, which is cliched c h a o s. They fall out and rebound hard. They get married within eight days of each other: it's very normal. John writes funeral on Paul’s wedding photos as he’s so normal about it. John moves countries and sells some weirdly intimate Paul pictures including this one of Paul sleeping that he didn't take but had for some reason??

They invent the diss track to send shit to each other. John is also btw playing Paul's records in private and crying about how he loves him really. It’s the break up period which also spoiled us by giving us THESE quotes:

(click to read)

Fellas is it gay if you admit to your wife you thought of sleeping with your best friend???

Then comes the tragic writing about each other in songs and diaries all throughout the 70s/John thinking the ‘I Love You’s’ in one of Paul’s songs were for him/John writing erotica and heavily implying the subject is Paul/’estranged fiance’ phase. They seem to be on the verge of getting back together and then John is murdered. It’s tragic and horrible so let’s just say that Paul doesen’t take it well and spends the rest of his life defending John, stuffing his house and studio with John’s things, writing at least one tribute song in which he still loses it on at least once a tour or gets stuck repeating ‘I love you’ over and over again. It’s batshit, it's so fucking funny yet heartbreakingly tragic and in the end its just two people loving each other too much to ever let each other go. You can’t compete, sorry, this shit has been going on since 1957 and we’re getting a book about their love story coming out next year. With peace and love, it's over, your faves could never.

[roseboysstuff]

(Same person who requested the pent up leon & ftm reader with a baby :3)

i NEED more zuko content , uhh so how about zuko and (ftm) male reader have two kids already (twins) and they're really young, even them both already having kids zuko atleast wanted one more, and as soon as the twins started asking for a baby sibling he went wild that night

"You heard them? One more can't hurt, and they'd be so so happy.."

You can choose the kinks ! Have a good day ♡

I'm always happy to provide Zuko content hehe, and breeding is one of my faves AH FUCK i POSTED IT TOO SOON

Zuko loved seeing you with your kids. The two girls that you had given him, cute little identical twins. The cold darkness of the palace, now filled with the cute shrieks and giggles of his daughters. Meetings with his advisors interrupted by the pitter patter of tiny feet coming into the throne room, so he just continues the meeting with both of them snuggled onto his lap. And the way you took care of them, made him fall even more in love with you. The praise and care, the way you carried them on your hips. He was so proud of you, and of his girls. They were both firebenders, not that he cared. He'd love them either way. But tonight, as the four of you lay there, the girls making flower crowns in the meadow outside the capital volcano, the topic of siblings came up. "Papa? Can we have another sibling?" One of your girls, asked, in the her innocent voice. Which caused the other one to chime in. "Yeah! I want a brother too!" Both you and Zuko exchanged a look, your faces clearly flustered. You changed the subject for now, and you after a few hours, you carried them back to the palace, and tucked them into bed. As soon as you left their room, you felt a hand on your hip. Squeezing. Grabbing. And then you were pushed up against a wall, with Zuko's lips pressing hot, open mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin on your neck. "What do you say, my firefly? Shall we give them another sibling?" His voice is deeper, laced with lust. You remember how he got you pregnant the first time, how he went almost feral at the idea of seeing you all swollen with his kid. You're pretty sure that his incessant pounding of your hole, and the amount of cum that he poured into your hole, was the reason why you had twins. And you were probably gonna get the same treatment tonight. He didn't even wait until you got into your shared chambers, he just pushed you against the wall of the hallway. Despite your soft protests that somebody might see you, he pulled your clothes off. "No one's gonna see us, and even if they do, I'm the FireLord. What can they do? I'm the leader, and I need to fuck another heir into my prince consort. You'll let me, won't you, baby boy?" Well you did let him. His cock was in you before long, and you stopped caring about whether or not it felt good. You just moan and whimpered and cried out his name. "Such a tight hot pussy, all for me. Gonna get your pregnant again, my love. Shall we try for triplets this time?" You didn't argue. His cock felt too good, the veiny surface stimulating the sensitive spots inside you. And you squeezed him so good, your pussy needing to be filled with his hot cum, to be pumped full of his heirs again. You cried out his name, needing him to fuck you harder. Which he happily obliged. Slamming into your pussy, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the hallway, as he didn't let up. He was determined to get you pregnant again, to fill your womb up with so much cum that you had no choice but to carry his babies again. He loved your first pregnancy. Watching your belly grow, from the small little bump, barely noticeable. To the swollen belly in the last trimester. He loved it all. And he was desperate to see it again, which was obvious in the thrusts. He was thrusting like a man starved, revelling in the mewls and whimpers leaving your lips. His cum poured into you, spurting seed into your womb. But he wasn't done. Keeping his cock in you, he carried you the rest of the way to your chambers, leaving the small amount of cum that had leaked out of you for the servants to clean up. He lowered you down onto your shared bed, and kissed your neck, rolling his hips inside you again. It's clear you weren't going to leave his arms until you were stuffed with enough cum, that he was satisfied that you were definitely knocked up again.