#wc: 580

[flofaiiry]

why him? ; pope cody x reader

warnings: swearing, probably ooc pope & j

wc: ~580

i am so so sorry if this is extremely ooc for pope or j, i'm basing them off of the two episodes i've watched and a bunch of pope fanfic i've read! i'm imagining this taking place right at the beginning of the show (seeing as that's all ive watched!!)

"i dont want this to come across as like..." josh trails off, searching for the words so as to not offend you, "like, rude or whatever?" he squints, trying not to cringe at how awkward he's being. you smile, "spit it out, kid, i won't be offended."

he takes a beat, slowly nodding before he continues. "why are you..." he glances back to andrew standing inside the house, before turning back to you. "why are you with him?" you raise your eyebrows, "him? you mean andrew?" josh nods, "pope, yeah- andrew i guess."

you cant help but laugh. the sound mostly leaving as forced exhales through your nose. "yeah i guess we're not really alike at all, huh." josh shakes his head, "no, you're definitely not." a small smile coming on his face, now knowing you didn't take his question the wrong way.

you take a sec, honestly thinking about the answer. why were you: college educated, career woman, from a good family, with andrew pope cody of all people. you understood how the question could come up.

you shrug.

"why is anyone with anyone," you smirk. trying to sound philosophical, while also dodging the question. josh just stares at you, not quite getting the sarcasm. you sigh. "to be honest, j? i couldn't tell you why." you admit. "i don't know that there's a reason... i just-," another sigh, collecting your thoughts now.

"i know he's not everyone's cup of tea," you start. "i know he's a lot for some people, i know people don't really get him, i know he can be scary at first..." you're practically rambling now. "i know he's got a staring habit," you tease, earning a laugh from josh, "yeah he definitely does. that shit is unsettling as hell," he admits and you laugh, nodding. "it one hundred percent is but- you'll get used to it i swear."

"really though, j, why is anyone with anyone," you circle back to your earlier point, once filled with sarcasm, now an actual question. "why are you with your girlfriend?" you counter, not trying to deflect, just... curious.

he shrugs. "makes me happy." he says matter-of-factly, "i don't know, she just... gets me." you smile. "exactly."

"is andrew a little... weird? absolutely he is. he's probably the strangest, most complicated person i've ever met but... when i'm with him? when it's just us? god, it's..." you try to find the words to describe how being with andrew makes you feel, but decide to use josh's own.

"he gets me," you say simply, "and i get him."

josh nods slowly, "i guess that's all you need, right? someone that gets you." you smile, "yeah it really is."

"what's all you need?" andrew asks as he emerges from the house, walking over to where you and josh sit on a couch by the pool.

"someone that gets you." you repeat, smiling at your boyfriend while he sits down beside you and drapes his arm across your shoulder. "kid was asking for relationship advice. told him all you need is someone that gets you. the rest will just... fall into place." you fill him in. it's not entirely a lie, but it's enough for andrew not to ask anymore questions.

"uh huh," andrew hums, "got my someone right here." he pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you smile.

for the first time, in this moment, josh thinks he might be understanding why you two are together.

[yuoimia]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ HEY, HANDSOME

summary: you’re shameless with your antics, and he hates loves it. characters: kinich & wanderer notes: fem + flirty reader, relationship is not established, but you’ve known each other for a while, wanderer’s is super short and messy bc i didn’t know how to execute my ideas well, wc: 580

kinich

“Are you free next week?”

Kinich glanced up from the base of the tree to where you sat casually on one of the thick branches. Sunlight streamed through its delicate leaves, spilling onto your hair, casting a familiar shadow he breathed in the first time you two met.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, eyeing you with suspicion. “What do you mean?”

“What does she mean!? Are you STUPID-“

A momentary flash of yellow and green materialised for a split second, not without the usual explosive expressions, before being promptly booted with the irritated flick of Kinich’s right hand.

“Stop smirking,” he sighed, not coming out nearly as stern as he intended. “Out with it, and come down; my neck is starting to hurt,” he continued, turning away, trying to seem as composed as possible. Not now; he cannot be succumbing to nerves and sweaty palms. Why was his mind so foggy? Absolutely no helpful excuses formulated in case he faltered any further.

You let out a disappointed huff. “Fine,” Kinich could almost sense the roll of your eyes from the back of his head. “Make sure to catch me.”

“Wait-“

It happened in a split second, his arms subconsciously reaching out as you slipped down with no hesitation.

Almost instantly, words of disapproval (which included his typical empty threats that he seemed to forget within the next ten minutes) bombarded your ears as one arm held you from the back of your knees, another supporting your back. “Imagine if I didn’t catch you…you need to think before you do things…”

“But you did either way,” you shrugged nonchalantly at his frustrated face, enveloping an arm around his neck to rest your chin on his shoulder. “So…you free next week?” you whispered conspicuously, adjusting yourself to face him properly. “I’m running out of ideas for commissions, you know?”

And you swear you’re hallucinating. You swear you might actually be delusional.

“What if I told you,” he mused at the intimacy of the shared closeness. “That you never needed the commissions for my attention in the first place?” he responded, holding back a smile.

wanderer

“You look terrible.”

The unexpectedly rash comment causes him to jolt his head upright, his eyes instantly meeting the owner of the familiar voice and malicious remark. A strange feeling washes over his body as he relaxes his posture almost completely, careful to avoid seeming too relieved.

“Likewise,” he countered, scanning you with a look of supposed disinterest. Except he wasn’t disinterested at all, thoroughly noting down your appearance and mannerisms. Loose ends of your braid had fallen out of their original position, a vibrant rosy blush below your cheekbones, likely from exhaustion the way your chest rose quicker than usual.

“…likewise?!” you gaped incredulously, seizing a mirror from a pocket of your jacket.

You’re the one that told me I looked terrible.”

“You know I didn’t mean that at all.”

“And you know that, too.”

“You’re supposed to say that you’re tired and hungry,” you muttered disappointingly, fixing your braid in the matter of a few quick movements.

Confusion flooded his mind at the sharp diversions in conversation topics. “Why would I need to say that?” he replied slowly, surveying your face with greater interest and intent, as if thinking that if he stared hard enough, the deepest secrets of your mind would be magically revealed.

A victorious smile and wink adorned your face as you extended a hand. “So I can offer you lunch, handsome.”

[ryzheling]

sfw, fluff, non sexual nudity, suggestive at the end, fittsy is hunting for me and my sanity (like always.) ~580 wc

"come on, i don't bite."

the deadpan in your expression is instant, and you throw him exactly that over your shoulder. "doubtful," you mutter, causing him to snicker behind you.

nagumo sits in the tub – your bathtub, to be specific, back against one end and his arms sprawled over the rim as he lets his legs sink beneath the water surface.

how he managed to fit all those long limbs under the water is beyond you, but then again despite your humble abode being meant for one, your bathtub is big enough to fit two people... for some reason.

the towel you're holding against your chest is not even wrapped all the way around your body. it's just there, like a pathetic attempt at protecting your bare naked self from his eyes.

(a pair of which has already seen all and beyond, everything that is to see about you mapped into his mind like distinguished constellations.)

nonetheless, it takes everything in you to not fall prey to his stare as you step into the warm water, lowering yourself and putting away the towel when you’re confident enough that anything below your shoulders is hidden.

the raven-head sitting across from you pouts, “you’re so far away.”

“you’ll survive,” you bite back, knees pulled to your chest as you shiver at the feel of his legs on either side of your hips.

your ears then start straining for sounds other than the sloshing fragrant water, the both of you sitting comfortably in the silence that falls. warmth creeps up your skin from the heat and steam, and warmer do you get when you glance up to lock eyes with nagumo.

he tilts his head and smiles softly. "come here." he holds a hand out, inviting you closer.

it takes you a second too long to move, but you do it regardless. the space between you decreases as you scoot over to him, pulse quickening and belly fluttering when he gently places his hands on your waist under the water.

chest brushing against his as you settle on his lap, the air around you crackles with something along the lines of a burning tension and longing ache.

your heart drums in your chest, so quick and loud you fear he might've heard it. maybe he could, and maybe that's why he's pulling you closer so that your chest is completely smushed against him, soft and all the more inviting.

the corners of his eyes crinkle at your sharp intake of air, your hands bracing on his broad shoulders to ground yourself.

"nervous?" he murmurs in the shared breath you're sharing, his palms slippery from the bath products moving to splay over the curve of your back.

you huff, avoiding his eyes to stare at the wet inked spiral on his neck, "should i not be? you're here after all."

steam rises, another blanket of stillness falls, and the implication is not lost on him. nagumo pauses as his own heart picks up its pace, breathing out an incredulous laugh before burying his nose into the crook of your neck to hide the blood rushing to his cheeks.

"ahh, you drive me crazy, you know that?" he whines, and your expression shifts, "huh? what are you talking about –"

you feel it then, the unmistakably solid weight twitching and pressing against your thigh. fully aware of it now, you couldn't help but to send a splash of bath water to his chortling face.

"NOT the time, you pervert!"

his face isn’t the only place his blood rushed to apparently

©ryzheling. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else!

[lovepotionsz]

Haiii ^-^ Full mask x reader smut?? Can be a sort of dub con thing where he takes you back to his universe (or tries to) if you like!!! Honestly I just need more full mask/dark invincible content he’s so silly

-🫀

Full Mask Mark x GN! Reader (Dark NSFW)

CW: Non/Dub-con, blaming the reader for his actions, rough sex, sexual thoughts about blood. I think this could be labeled as Dead-dove do not eat. You have been warned.

WC: 580

A/N: I got wayy too into this, I hope it's to your liking.

Full Mask is a very manipulative man, even if he doesn’t realize it. When he first tries to convince you to go back, he tests out the emotional route. Clinging to your legs like a dog, crying his heart and begging, “please! I promise I’ll take such good care of you, you won’t need anyone else in your life!”, just full on sobbing and latching onto you like a desperate animal. When that doesn’t work, he finally uses his much more superior physical strength to ‘convince’ you. 

The whole thing starts with you finally pushing him off of your leg, then he gets… eerily quiet, which scares you because you can just feel his intention when he looks at you through the lens of his mask. You can’t see his eyes nor mouth, but you can just tell you somehow fucked up.

He tries to be gentle, really he does! He does his best to not snap your bones as he’s thrusting into you, your cries and hisses of pain truly do sting his heart, but– he can only hold back so much. No matter how hard he tries, he’s far too violent for the gentleness he craves. Holding you like this feels like with a little more push he could snap every bone in your body, and goddammit he’s trying, okay!? You just wouldn’t stand still, you kept kicking and yelling at him, and he got scared and bruised your hips so hard you could feel the way your muscles bruised under your skin and it made it so hard to breathe– oh he knows, he knows and he’s so sorry! If you had just stayed still, this wouldn’t have happened, would it? That’s right, you need to stop being such a fidgety, shaking thing and let him love you!

He’s crying under his mask too, but his tears are the result of the sheer ecstasy your body has him feeling. The way you cry out and claw at his back, violently thrashing around as he hits that sweet spot, the way you tighten around his cock so well has his brain spinning and throbbing inside you.

Oh, but his favorite thing is when you finally stop moving, clawing, crying and get so, so docile under him. You just let out these quiet whimpers and sniffles as he’s filling you up so full that he feels his cum drip out of you with every pump and every thrust inside you, he loves coating your insides full of him. Marking you in ways no one other than him can, he deserves this, he loves this, he wants more of it. 

He keeps going, he’s missed you so much after all, has been saving himself for you before you up and went to hell knows where, he is so, so pent-up. Five rounds would never be enough, it won’t ever be enough. He’ll keep fucking into you, he’ll keep making you scream, he’ll keep swearing that he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he won't stop raking his nails on your ass with the sole purpose to make you bleed and watch your blood mix with his cum on your entrance. He says he hates seeing you cry, but you can feel his cock twitch and throb inside you every time you do cry out.

He’ll tell you that he’s loving you as gentle as he can, but to you, his ‘love’ is nothing but terror on your body and psyche. 

[sthwaaberry]

relief | p.seonghwa

wc: 580+ (a bit short ik…)

genre: smut, fluff (mdni)

warnings: handjob(?), blowjob, slight hair pulling (lmk if i missed any!)

thinking about boyfriend seonghwa who just came back from his night-time run, panting as he pauses the music that was playing softly in his ear through his airpods, sweat still dripping down his forehead as he gets home, calling out your name. his run hadn’t been as stress-relieving as he’d hoped it would, spending most of the time stressing about his comeback schedule— not to mention the fact he might’ve slipped into a puddle..

or two.

needless to say, he wasn’t in the brightest mood, though when he saw you it seemed like a weight had been lifted off his chest. “hwa, you’re soaking? what the hell even happened— let’s go shower before you get a cold or something.” your worry only elicited a chuckle from him, smiling dreamily. how’d he been so lucky to have you? “darling, i’m fine.” he says. clearly you didn’t believe him, arm still tightly wrapped around his wrist as you shake your head, sighing as you drag him to the bathroom. “you’re still taking a warm shower, i don’t want you getting a cold.”

-

one shower later, he was certainly less tense than before, but the stress was there. this didn’t go unnoticed by you, sighing as you watch him sit on the bed, wearing nothing but some shorts. you try to keep yourself civilized, placing a hand on his muscular thigh. “love, let me help you a bit, you seem tense.” you murmur softly, scooting closer to him on the bed. he smiles dismissively, speaking up. “you really don’t have to, you’re probably tired as well and-“ “no, really. it’s okay. please let me do this for you.” you say while cupping his cheeks, making him face you.

he really was beautiful like this. hair as white as the snow that would soon fall as the winter days passed yet cheeks a warm pink from the shower steam. you could look at him all day, but you had things to do. so you fall to your knees in front of him, looking up as you pull down his shorts.

“no boxers today?” you say teasingly, grinning as you stare at his hard-on. “in my defense, i thought i was going straight to sleep.” seonghwa says with a smile, one that quickly fades after you cup his dick. he hisses through his teeth, hands finding your hair as he tugs on it. “don’t tease.” he mutters, voice cracking. it elicits a smile out of you, nodding. “okay, okay, my bad.” you say before you grip the base tightly before setting a pace, stroking him. melodic whimpers leave his lips, panting. “n-need you. need you now, fuck, in your mouth.” he babbles.

you comply with a smile, taking in the tip of his dick, swirling your tongue around it before trying to take him in as much as you could, stroking what you couldn’t fit gently. he grips your hair even tighter, the pain making you moan against his hard cock. he bites his lip so hard he thinks it might bleed, head lolled back. “f-fuck, love, mm.. h-haah..” is what leaves his lips, when he has so much more to say yet isn’t able to say it. “j-just like that— almost there, f-fuck!” he yelps, twitching in your mouth. not a minute goes by before he’s spurting his thick cum down your throat, panting in the afterglow. you pull away, looking up at him. he pats your head gently with a smile, sighing.

“god, i’m relieved.”

a/n: thank you if you read all this! sorry if this was awkwardly written, i tried my best lol, reblogs, comments and likes are all very much appreciated !! sweating while i post this btw..

[bradleysass]

empty - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 580 - Translations at the bottom

Regulus doesn’t know how to say I’m not okay when there’s no bruise to point to, no wound to dress.

He wakes up with the weight of wet wool pressed behind his ribs and doesn’t bother shaking it off. The light slanting in through the window is gray and slow, and so is he. The world isn’t cruel today—it’s just dull.

He doesn't get out of bed when James does. Doesn't eat the eggs James scrambles, sunny-side-up. Doesn’t say anything when James kisses his forehead and goes to work with one last glance back, brows tugged together.

By the time James returns, the apartment still smells faintly of morning, like burnt toast and lavender detergent. Regulus is sitting on the couch with a blanket over his lap and a mug of tea gone cold in his hands.

“Baby,” James says softly, not quite a question.

Regulus doesn’t look at him. “Je suis fatigué.”

James toes off his shoes, crosses the room, crouches in front of him.

“Tired?” James repeats, brushing dark hair away from Regulus’ eyes.

Regulus shrugs. “Mais pas seulement fatigué. Je suis… vide. Comme si je me suis endormi quelque part à l’intérieur.”

James nods, even if he doesn’t fully understand. He doesn’t need to. He takes the cold mug from Regulus’ hands, sets it on the table, then slides into the couch beside him, pulling the blanket around them both.

They sit in silence for a long time.

Eventually James says, “Estás triste?”

The Spanish falls gently from his tongue, a thread instead of a net.

Regulus breathes in slowly. “Peut-être. Je ne sais pas pourquoi. Rien n’est vraiment mauvais.”

James hums and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “Sometimes nothing has to be wrong, and it still feels like everything is.”

Regulus rests his head against James’ chest.

“It’s the light,” he murmurs. “Or the lack of it. Or maybe I just have a broken heart in a body that forgot it was broken.”

James’s voice is low when he replies. “Te puedo dar un poco del mío, si quieres.”

Regulus looks up, a faint crease between his brows. “Your what?”

James taps two fingers over his own heart. “Mine. You can borrow some. Just until yours feels a bit less tired.”

Regulus wants to roll his eyes, to scoff and call James dramatic.

Instead, he whispers, “Tu es un idiot,” and closes his eyes against James’ chest.

James doesn’t move for a while. Just rubs his back in slow, grounding circles.

Later, when the light outside is gone and the tea has been reheated, James makes Regulus sit at the kitchen table while he puts on a playlist full of soft Spanish guitar. He dances terribly while he cooks. Regulus doesn’t smile, but his eyes follow James with the ghost of one.

James piles their plates with arroz con pollo and grilled sweet peppers. Regulus eats slowly, like he's just remembered how to move his jaw.

“Do you want to talk about it?” James asks as he refills their glasses with water.

Regulus shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Okay.” James presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But whenever you do—”

“Je sais,” Regulus interrupts softly. “I know.”

Later, curled up in bed, James holds him like the fragile thing Regulus won’t admit to being. Their limbs tangle. The silence stretches.

Then Regulus says, almost too quiet to hear, “Merci d’être resté.”

James kisses the crown of his head. “Siempre, mi amor.”

Je suis fatigué : I'm tired Mais pas seulement fatigué. Je suis… vide. Comme si je me suis endormi quelque part à l’intérieur. : But not just tired. I am... empty. As if I fell asleep somewhere inside. Estás triste? : Are you sad? Peut-être. Je ne sais pas pourquoi. Rien n’est vraiment mauvais. : Maybe. I don't know why. Nothing is really bad. Te puedo dar un poco del mío, si quieres. : I can give you some of mine, if you want. Tu es un idiot : You are an idiot Je sais : I know Merci d’être resté : Thank you for staying Siempre, mi amor. : Always, my love

[chokifandom]

— the sun and moon

anaxa x f!reader, very worshippy, VERRRYY self indulgent like this is basically a self insert atp, reader is a painter, i use his full name so much it's actually disgusting, anaxagoras is an atheist

wc: 580

a/n: HAII haiii :3 first hyv post slinks away... it just had to be the man who freed me from my tumblr shadowban <3 terribly sorry bc this piece is so short but i haven’t written in a while and i’m very rusty so ! sorry to everyone who followed me for bllk LOLL i swr ill get back to it in a while..

kephale’s dawn shines on this city that is overlooked by cerces— the sun is gentle and the breeze leaves soft kisses on your skin, the air heavy with the thick scent of paint. a certain scholar is seated in front of you, an easel and a canvas separating the distance between you two. he observes the way your eyebrows knit together in concentration and follows the movements of your hands with his eye alone, not daring to move a single muscle.

“you are so cooperative, anaxagoras,” his name rolls on your tongue so smoothly; his breath hitches in his throat and he’s gone. it falls from your lips like a prayer and you would not hesitate to say it as many times as he asked it of you, and more. “thank you for being my muse.”

he would never forget the first time he acquainted himself with you. he had told you his name was anaxagoras, and you had called him exactly that— anaxagoras. you never shortened his name, not even once. this did not go unappreciated, but it also puzzled him. he wondered why you didn’t cut his name short for your convenience. “is your name not anaxagoras?” you asked, and he realised that day, that you would never reduce the identity of a being for something as irrelevant as convenience. after all, isn’t this what it is to love? the act of loving is to embrace and accept, something that takes a painstaking amount of effort, and yet you make it seem as easy as breathing.

and for this, anaxagoras comes to believe that a love as pure and simple as yours must be protected at all costs, and so he pours his devotion into you. he chooses to place his faith in you, because you are more real and tangible and more loving than the idea of god could ever be— because you inspire him to take pride in the universe that resides within his soul. with you, he feels no need to change something so integral to the core of his being.

many thought the two of you to be an… odd pair, to say the least— a painter akin to a free spirited bird, a lover of everything in this world, with a scholar, one so guarded and stand-offish, at that! they frequently threw looks of pity your way every time that you were seen with him, but you would simply laugh and wave them off. 

if anaxagoras didn’t know better, he would wholeheartedly believe that you were derived from the sun, its radiance bubbling over and spilling into your every step, every word, every laugh. and if you were the sun, then anaxagoras supposes that he would be the moon. he is blunt, defensive and contrarian with his logic, everything that you are not— and yet, your existences fit with each other’s like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. it is not despite, but as a result of this fact.

anaxagoras does not believe in the concept of fate. everything that has come to be in this world is a consequence of action by all the beings who have and will continue to exist in it, and that includes the unlikely relationship between you and him that had occurred against all odds. it is not a mere coincidence, but a series of wilful steps that have led up to this moment where you are putting down his likeness on the canvas.

[nonushu]

meet cute with… - jeon wonwoo

genre: fluff, meet-cute | wc: 580 | wonwoo x reader a/n: i read 'the seventh day' by yu hua, which was recommended by wonwoo! (no mention of a specific book here besides the genre)

"i'm sorry dear," the librarian whispers, "the only version of this copy was signed out an hour ago."

you nod, glancing at her apologetic features. the woman removes her glasses and lets them hang by the chain attached to the temples.

"no worries at all, miss," you reassure her, turning away to find something else to read, "thank you."

she smiles kindly as you disappear between the shelves, tracing your finger on each book. it feels almost daunting, lurking from aisle to aisle, waiting for something—or anything to catch your eye.

as you approach the end of the fiction novels, you figure it might as well be the end of your search. with a sigh, you continue your path, only skipping past the shelves and towards the exit.

just as you reach to pull the doors, something—or rather, someone—catches your attention. he's standing at one of the small checkout desks by the window, engrossed in a book. his dark hair falls slightly over his forehead, and his glasses sit at the tip of his nose.

"oh, would you look at this," you hear the librarian say to the young man who's stepped up to the counter, "this book is quite a pick, wouldn't you say?"

you watch him raise a brow at the woman, the man—who you now realize is holding the exact book you were searching for.

"really?" he asks, looking down at the book in his hands. “it’s a popular one, i suppose.”

her eyes crinkle as she hums, averting her gaze to the computer. a smile spreads on her face when she spots your figure above the screen. "in fact, that's them right there."

you feel your face flush as he follows her gesture, his eyes meeting yours. like a deer caught in headlights, you stand there awkwardly, having no idea what to initiate. should you leave or—

he hesitates for a moment before mumbling something to the woman. after you hear another beep, he walks over to you, the book still in his hand.

“hey,” he says, raising his hand to display the book. “i just heard you were looking for this.”

your eyes widen, slightly embarrassed. “y-yeah, i was, but it’s okay. you got to it first.”

he shakes his head, offering the book to you with a soft glint in his eyes. “it’s no problem. i insist you take it. i’ve read it a couple of times already.”

you stare at the book, then back at him. “you sure? i don’t want to take it if you were going to sign it out today.”

“i’m sure,” he says, his grin widening a little. “books are better when shared, don’t you think?”

his words make you chuckle, and you reach out to take the book, your fingers brushing his as you do. “thank you, that’s really kind of you.”

“it’s no problem,” he repeats, his gaze softening as he watches you. his hand reaches for your empty one, “wonwoo.”

you gladly accept his, taking note of how gentle he feels, “y/n,” you reply, feeling your heart skip a beat.

"you think we could maybe...uh, talk about the book some time?" he asks, putting his hand behind his head.

you're quick to agree, the thought of seeing him again making you visibly giddy. “i’d like that.”

“great,” he says, his eyes twinkling with a quiet excitement. “i'll see you around?”

you clutch the book close to your chest, smiling like an idiot. “see you around.”

[shoutabe]

his entire love life has been a whirlwind for months now, and although the storm of it all seems to have calmed down over the last few weeks, the gusts have picked up once again; carrying him with them in a manner that's given him whiplash, leaving him dazed, confused, and lost. going from having three men in his life that were interested in winning over his affections, to then there being none, to now having one of the three return to ask for forgiveness... it's a lot for him to keep up with, especially given that he's still inexperienced when it comes to nurturing long-term relationships.

it's always been his biggest dream to find a love that nourishes him, but more than that, he wants to be able to nourish someone, too; to love them in the purest way possible in an attempt soften whatever harsh edges they have, or to ensure that they're healthy and able.

though, doing exactly that left him wounded. both of the men that he'd felt deeply for left him in the air and didn't allow him to continue loving them in the only way that he knows how to. instead, they ran away. they hid. they were cowardly and refused to trust that he's strong enough to weather storms alongside them.

that's what hurt him the most. the pain of losing them was immense, but knowing that they seemingly didn't trust him enough to let him stand by their sides tore him apart. did he not give them the impression that he could care for them and help them heal? did he fail to convey his heart's strength? these questions have eaten away at him for so long now.

regardless, he's tried his best to keep his head up. he recently moved into a new studio apartment, one that his father is helping him pay for since he was finding dorm life a bit restricting. it's only been a few days since he's made a home out of it, but he's glad that everything is in its rightful place and that he can find sanctuary in a space that belongs entirely to him. though, being that the move into his apartment is still fresh, he's not expecting a knock at his door. figuring that it must be his mom or one of his siblings stopping by to say hi, he opens the door without checking who it is, but when he realizes its mindeulle standing beyond the threshold, he feels a herculean tug at his heartstrings.

shouta has no idea what to do. does he leave him stranded by slamming the door in his face, much like mindeulle did to him? no, no, he can't do that. he can't be hypocritical by showing his own cowardice, especially after having judged the others for it.

seeing him in the flesh for the first time in a while feels bittersweet. he's not only reminded of how much he's missed him, but one of the memories mixed into the many that come flooding back to him is the last night they spent together. breathing heavily, he stands in his doorway and finds it hard to make direct eye-contact with mindeulle, but tries his best not to seem overly meek, albeit to no avail.

"hi," he begins, not really knowing what to say. "sorry, i just... i wasn't expecting to see you." it's clear that he's stunned. "why... um, well, what are you doing here?"

[ BRIDGES TO MEND ]

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀'𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓, Seoul, SK May, 2025 w. 𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀

The last time Mindeulle saw Shouta, they'd both been crying. Min, breaking both of their hearts, had broken things off, 'for Shouta's benefit'. He still believed that to be true. Who wanted a boyfriend who was stuck in hospital? Who's health overtook their life over and over again. He'd set him free, and in doing so, he'd lost the only person he'd ever loved. They'd stay in touch, he'd told Shouta. They could still be friends, he'd told Shouta. Yet their messages were sparse, and lacked the feeling they used to hold. Both retained too much hurt and sorrow, and so they'd left their chat room dusty for far too long.

Min had never stopped loving him, even after months apart. He'd lain awake thinking about the boy with the bunny teeth and catlike eyes. He loved him with every fibre of his being, and being without him hurt more than any sickness he'd ever endured. It's what had led to his inevitable return to Shouta's doorstep, ready to grovel for forgiveness, though he knew he'd have to be the luckiest man on earth to win his affections back after breaking his heart, regardless of whether he'd broken his own in the process. It takes a full ten minutes of standing a few metres down the corridor from Shouta's front door for him to finally muster up the courage to just go over and knock. As soon as he does, though, his stomach drops into his feet and he feels like he might faint. He should have texted ahead of time, warned Shouta he was coming. What if he was with a new man? A man better, healthier, stronger than Min? It would be what Shouta deserved, of course, but Min could already feel his heart bleeding at the mere idea of it. What did he even intend to say to him, past 'I'm sorry'? What could he say to make any of it better? At the very least, they had a lot to talk about. Bridges to mend.

[dailylcy]

ok ok ok… my birthday is in a few days HEAR ME OUT- shotaro loves eating pussy it isn’t some he does often but i imagine it’s rather special on special occasions so PLEASE can you write taro eating you out on your birthday? (i would write it but it’s my birthday like…)

( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) — thank you in advance

ఌ︎. a/n. hii anon thank u for the req and happy birthdayyy (*∩_∩*) MINORS DNI! ఌ︎. wc. 580

“Happy birthday pretty” Shotaro murmurs, his voice low, still rough from sleep. His lips press against your temple, lingering for a second before trailing down to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

You hum in response, barely awake but already smiling. “Mmm, what time is it?”

“Early,” he says, but there’s something in his voice, like he doesn’t really care. Like he wants you to stay just like this — half asleep, tangled up with him. His hand tightens around your waist, pulling you closer until your body fits perfectly against his. “But I couldn’t wait.”

You finally crack your eyes open, finding him watching you with a softness that makes your heart ache. His hair is messy, strands falling over his forehead, and there’s a quiet kind of intent in the way he looks at you.

“For what?” you ask, voice still sleepy.

Shotaro smiles, leaning in until his nose brushes against yours. His lips hover just above yours, barely there, teasing.

“For you.” Shotaro says as he moves presses one last kiss on your lips before moving lower, his grip tightens on your thighs as his fingers start sinking into the soft flesh as he presses his face deeper between your legs. His hair is a sweaty mess now, strands plastered against his forehead, and his breath comes is hot against your skin, uneven pants against your soaked pussy. The room’s thick with the musky scent of sex, the faint tang of sweat, and the slick, dripping mess you’ve become under his tongue. He’s been at it for what feels like forever, and your body’s trembling, caught in that beautiful edge of too much.

“Fuck, you’re so wet” he groans, His tongue flattens, dragging slow and hard over the swollen nub, and your hips jerk involuntarily, a whine slipping from your throat. He doesn’t give up tho — his lips close around your pussy again, sucking with a wet, filthy sound that echoes in the quiet bedroom. Your folds are puffy and slick, glistening with a mix of his spit and your arousal, and he laps at them greedily, tongue going inside your entrance just enough to make your walls clench. your juice smears across his cheeks, dripping down his jaw, and he lets out a low hum, like he’s savoring every drop.

Your thighs shake uncontrollably, muscles tensing as the overstimulation hits hard. It’s overwhelming—his nose nudges your clit while his tongue fucks into you, curling and stroking with crazy precision. “T-Taro, I can’t—” you gasp, but he only growls softly, his hands pinning you down tighter. Sweat beads on his neck, trickling down to the collar of his black shirt, and his eyes flicker up, dark and wild, watching you unravel for him. Your body’s screaming and then it snaps — your orgasm crashes through you, raw and messy. Your pussy gushing against his mouth, and he drinks it down, tongue chasing the flood of cum as it spills over his lips, sticky and hot, pooling on the sheets beneath you.

He pulls back just enough to breathe, his chin slick and shiny, a string of your juices clinging to his lower lip. “Shit, you taste even better when you come” he rasps, voice wrecked, before diving back in, kissing your throbbing clit with a sloppy smack. Your hands grab the sheets, a sob catching in your chest as he keeps going, pushing you past the edge into that dizzying, unbearable haze. What a way to start your birthday

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© dailylcy 2025

[pixiestickfics]

within the middle of the night

pairing? piers x fairy type trainer!reader

wc; 580

tags; fluff, piers typical insomnia, reader has a sylveon because who doesnt love sylveon? this is so sweet it made my teeth ache writing it. piers' middle of the night sleepless thoughts. Small amount of they/them used, mostly you/yours, soft piers even if he doesn't want to admit it

fic below the cut for space ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Piers wasn’t a soft man, he was a gym leader, the second strongest. He’d never be considered “soft”, nor would the thought of him going soft plague anybody’s mind as much as it did his.

From the day he had seen the fairy type trainer approach him in his gym, he couldn’t deny the way his heart sped up a little, or palms became a bit sweaty as he held onto the mic stand for a second too long. Watching them effortlessly guide their sylveon throughout the battle, the bond between the trainer and the fox-like pokemon was clear.

He couldn’t deny that after that battle, after handing over the dark-type badge, he wanted to see them again. The way his heart would beat a bit faster when they were around was exhilarating, the way they would grin while they were battling because their sylveon would have the type advantage, the way they’d make sure to heal his pokemon themselves just to make his work a bit easier on him.

Arceus, he was a lost cause, but that didn’t make him soft.

Even as he laid here, said trainer fast asleep, cuddled up to him like he was a stuffed animal, their sylveon curled up behind their legs. He was laying awake on his side, one hand carding through your hair as he could feel the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. He was having a hard time falling asleep,]so instead he focused on you.

The way your hair felt against his fingers, the sound of your quiet breathing. All the little details about the scene he was currently in made it feel like this was where he truly belonged, with you by his side, in his arms.

In moments like this, his mind would wander a bit. Wandering back to their first date, back to those lazy days from before he had retired, from the days where he felt like it was impossible to leave the house, even on a day off. All of those memories had one common factor, you, the fairy type trainer currently clinging to him in their sleep. All of them involve you.

Even now, when you were sleeping so peacefully in his arms, one hand in your hair. Whenever you stirred, he’d pause, his hand continuing the motion of running through your hair as he pressed a kiss against your forehead, beginning to quietly hum. 

He’d quickly learnt humming was a good way to lull you back to sleep, one of the first nights you’d spent over in fact. He could vividly remember that night, both you and him were having a hard time sleeping, adjusting positions what seemed like every five minutes, so after about an hour of the cycle, he pulled you to his chest and began quietly humming. He’d realized humming could be effective at lulling some people to sleep when Marnie was young, so he just acted on his instinct at that moment, and judging by how quickly you had finally fallen asleep and the small snores coming from you, it was effective.

He’d always remember that night. Sure, once he realized what he had done his heart was practically beating out of his chest, but hearing you finally get some sleep after an hour or two of tossing and turning made it worth it.

Okay, maybe he was a bit soft for you.. but he didn’t mind as much as he would’ve thought he would've.

[coyotelip]

starchaser microfic: chocolate || jegulily waiting for a child || @into-the-jeggyverse || wc: 580

“Is that all we need?‘’ James asks, keeping his hands on the full basket of groceries in front of him.

Regulus, next to him, carefully looks at the grocery list on his phone, checking off each item. Finally, he says, “There's only chocolate left.”

“Chocolate?” James asks in surprise.

Don't get him wrong, he'll never turn down chocolate. But when he turns his eyes back to the full basket, he has no trouble finding at least a dozen other types of sweets in the pile - terramisu, sweet cheese, berry cheesecake, tangerine cheesecake, eclairs, waffles, chocolate chip cookies, marzipan candies, chocolate covered dried plums (an absolute crime if you ask James), a jar of peanut butter, gummy bears. A few more colorful packages are buried deep under the fruits and fish.

“Did I miss something? Are we getting ready for another two-week lockdown?”

Regulus' gaze is directed at him from under his thick eyebrows. “It's for Lily,” he says, as if it were the most obvious thing that doesn't need to be explained.

“…Oh,” James realizes belatedly. “I didn't hear her ask to add all that to the list.”

“She didn't.” Regulus walks confidently toward the chocolate bar counter. James tries to keep up with his basket. “You know, she doesn't ask for anything at all anymore. It's like she's got the stubbornness of two people now - I wouldn't be surprised if the baby turns out to be the same.”

“The pot calling the kettle…” James says under his breath, hoping that Regulus won't hear him while he's looking at the different types of chocolate.

He settles on three - with nuts, with a layer of milk cream, and pure dark chocolate.

“How do you know what she wants?” James feels like a fool for asking this question. Of course he knows what his wife likes, but half of the products in the basket look strange and unfamiliar to him. Again, why the hell a dried plum in there?

“I don't know.” Regulus shrugs his shoulders. “But neither does Lily. One minute she's asking for chocolate milk in her cereal, and ten minutes later she's dying to eat cheese and ham toast. So it would be useful to have everything at once, don't you think?”

James just sighs heavily and agrees. Pregnancy isn't something that should tire him out - after all, he's not the one growing a whole new organism, a new person. However, since Lily quit her job due to the necessary rest in the second trimester, and Regulus also reduced his workload to stay at home with her almost always, James has taken over the financial support of the family. And they are not really in need, but as a future father he wants the best for his partners and child, so now he spends more time at work than he would like. And the saddest part is not the fatigue or burnout, but how much he misses. All his dreams of caring for his pregnant wife and having a magical home atmosphere are getting dusty because of the work he's been putting himself through.

“James?” comes from his side.

Regulus is already at the end of the aisle, on his way to the checkout, and James has completely lost track of reality. With his mind racing, his eyes are fixed on the package of caramel-filled chocolate.

Shaking his head to clear his head, he adds another bar of chocolate to the basket and follows his husband.

[cherrymoonmotel]

✧ au!knight!dean x princess!reader

✧ he will guard. and he will wait. and he will not want. for wanting will do him no good.

✧ cw: mega yearning, medieval au, deans pov, no use of y/n

✧ wc: 580

✧ this has been sitting in my wip's for a loooong time, and i'm obsessed with fics like this (if anyone has any good recs PLS shoot them my way!!!), this is me if i were a trope. if theres one thing y'all need to know about me, it's that i have a deep yearning obsession for anything medieval. i'm a fantasy girl at heart.

the stone beneath his boots was cold. 

he shifts his weight just slightly. the torchlight that fell along the halls flickered against his armour. the steel dull, polished and worn like everything else in this castle.

the corridor was quiet at this hour. that kind of still quiet that only came once the servants retired and the flickers of candle light behind doors had all gone out. 

all except hers. 

his eyes ran over the stone in front of him. he didn’t glance back towards her door. he didn’t need to. he knew every sound that came from behind it. every quiet sigh, every rustle of parchment. every footstep in the early morning, how she rose before the maids came to help her dress. 

he’d stood outside this room for years. 

since the both of them had been younger. 

since he was knighted. given his charge: protect her above all else.

and he had.

through a fever that nearly took her. through a palace siege last winter. through that night in the spring when she’d ran barefoot to the stables to save a foaling mare and the queen had nearly had him dismissed. 

through every moment that drew them closer. in quiet. in glances, in things unsaid. 

they were older now. she was a woman. and still he kept vigil. 

he ran a hand along the hilt of his sword. his knuckles white beneath the leather of his gloves. he wasn’t cold. the chill that broke through the the stone of the castle didn’t matter. 

the ache in his chest did. 

he had no right to her. 

and he would sooner plunge his own blade in his chest than touch her in a way that was unbecoming of a knight. 

and still–god help him–he would die for her. kill for her. already had. 

“dean?” she called softly from within her room. her voice muffled by the thick oak door between them. 

he closed his eyes for a moment before answering. she always refused the formalities. had since she was eighteen and decided “sir” was far too stiff for the man who stitched her arm after she’d been thrown from her horse. 

“my lady?” he managed, his voice low.

a pause. 

“can you hear the rain?”

he tilts his head back slightly. letting it fall gently on the door behind him. the sound of the rain was faint but present. he listened as it tapped softly on the stone and windows.

“yes” he said, his voice quiet. “i hear it”.

another pause. 

“will you stay until morning?”.

he closed his eyes again. his throat dry. 

“always.”

and he meant it. 

even if she married a prince. 

even if he was sent away to die in a war she’d never know. 

even if she never looked at him the way he looked at her when her back was turned. 

even if she never longed for him in the dark. 

he would stand at her door. at her side. at the foot of her pyre if thats where she led him. 

until the end of his days he would stay. stand guard. his heart bleeding silently for a girl made of stars and silk and summer rain. 

made of everything he could not have.

and so he stands there. eyes tracing the lines in the cobblestone of the castle walls. hand on his sword. repeating the same words in his mind, the words he's told himself since the day they met all those years ago.

"i shall not want".

a/n: i'm going to keep this little fic open to more instalments/parts because i'll never get enough. i NEED THIS SO BAD. love me some yearning.

✧ taglist! : @supernat7

comment if you want to be added/removed!!!

[hwsing]

I’m very curious about any NSFW Headcanons/takes you have for Canada. 👀

sex, eh?

notes: 18+, reader is gender neutral and i don’t think reader’s genitals are mentioned. includes: canada (matthew williams). as always, reblogs are appreciated!

cw: this is more babbling than anything else; verse! matthew, outdoors sex, hair pulling, dick description. wc: about 580. not proof read. not much comes to mind for this lad but please feel free to request anything about him!

it’s so interesting to me that so many people want this man because he is so unfuckable to me its hilarious. i have to really put on my thinking cap here, but, i do think matthew is genuinely quite a giving partner. i also get the impression of him that he does like to dom (soft dom lets be clear). its a bit of a stereotype these days i think, but he seems like the type to enjoy that sort of dynamic since he can often feel overlooked in his day to day life.

despite that, i feel like he has iffy feelings on brats. he’s not the most kinky guy out there to begin with, so declining/training/ god forbid punishing is a ways outside his comfort zone. he’d much prefer to just make you feel good. now, if you reallllllly want to experiment in the more brat side of things, he’ll try a bit, but again, don’t expect anything particularly hardcore. at best, he’ll be manhandling you. when it comes to how he touches you, though, he’d rather give you sweet, open mouthed kisses down your chest to stomach!

really really really likes when his hair is tugged on. whether it it’s when you’re kissing or he’s giving you head, he just loves the little tugs to his roots. it’s a bit grounding, really; the blond is prone to overthinking and getting lost in his own thoughts. in a way, you’re yanking him back down, forcing him to focus more on the here and now.

public sex is a no go, but… outdoors sex?? this is by no means a habit of his, but if you two are camping……….. he prefers to camp by your own means rather than just. use an overcrowded campsite, so it’s not like anyone is really going to be around. with the thick forest as your walls of protection, why not get up to a bit of fun? he honestly really likes it, even if you’re only willing to do it inside the tent. although, if you’re willing to fuck against a tree, he’s more than happy to oblige!

he’s got pretty good stamina. he’s worked in the outdoors most of his life — he’s very fit. not particularly bulking, but muscular and somewhat lean. eats a good diet too. he lasts quite a while to begin with, but can go a few rounds as well! usually caps off at max two though, unless you specifically ask for more. he has a hard time saying no to you in most contexts,, he can’t help it, he thinks you’re so cute :(

still a verse at the end of the day, and if you try to take the reigns, he’s not going to put up much of a fight. again, he has a hard time denying you; quite literally putty in your hands if you decide to dom.

i dont imagine him very noisy in the bedroom. mostly soft and small moans and groans, some whimpering when he’s close. he’s not silent but not talkative either. he’s inclined to sing your praises and all that, but quietly, only for you to hear. that, and he can get a bit embarrassed by speaking so intimately, so it’s just easier for him to say it softly lolol.

this feels kinda bland so here’s a small treat: i’d guess he’s about 6.8”, trims quite close and very hygienic. slightly thick but not so much so that it’s pose a problem. very sensitive.

[oleander-cup]

sketchbook - tsukishima asks for a pencil // wc: 580 // pairing: tsukishima x male implied reader // content: tsukki is ooc so forgive me, yes this is very flirty, artist reader, this was written as a gift for a friend

the leaves rustle as they begin to fall from their branches, hues of auburn and gold. the classroom is filled with idle chatter as the teacher sits at his desk, the assignment already forgotten about by most. faintly you can hear music playing from the chair next to you. the boy wears headphones, the same ones you’ve seen him wear everyday, always ignoring the words of your classmates. his music always leaking past the space he’s made for it.

you don’t pay him any mind. not since he doesn’t to you. the sound of chatter, rustling leaves, and— “hey, can i borrow a pencil?” his headphones are pulled off of one ear and he still carries the same unamused expression. you nod and sort through your pencil pouch for one. the pencil is short, clearly used commonly, the eraser replaced by a dollar store one. “thanks.” and that’s the end of it. he returns your pencil when the bell rings and you don’t talk again. 

that’s what you think will happen, it’s partly true. he returns your pencil and doesn’t speak to you for the rest of the period. the next day when he sits down he taps your shoulder. “do you have a pencil i could borrow?” you nod and hand him the same one he used the day before. it becomes a habit. one that continues as the leaves no longer fall from the branches and where snow collects in their place. 

like clockwork, he sits down and asks for a pencil, and you hand him the same small pencil with the dollar store eraser. he gives it back without another word and it continues the next day. “are you going to get your own pencil anytime soon? i’m gonna have to start charging you rent or something.” 

“pfft, charging me rent? i didn’t realize that you were a landlord. yeah, i’ll need you to fix this eraser and give me equal amenities that you’re getting before that happens.” 

“i’ll need a down payment first. and we all know, landlords do the best things for themselves. you get  the same pencil everyone but me gets. because i’m the one who pays for them.” there’s smiles growing on both of your faces. you hadn’t realized how fun it could be to talk with him.

“will i get my security deposit back at the end of my lease?” he’s leaning his chin on his hand as he smirks and teases you. 

“obviously, i’m not evil,” you say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “the lease won’t be up until spring though, so you’re gonna be out of luck until then.”

“what’s the deposit?” the pencil lays between you on the desk. 

“your name….” you think for a moment. “and a blue raspberry drink from the corner store.” 

“fine, but i’ll keep this,” he swipes the pencil and you gasp as he puts it in his pocket. “in my possession, until spring of course. my name is tsukishima kei by the way.” this action starts a new habit. one where the snow doesn’t stick to the ground and the leaves cling to wooden branches. where rain clouds come and water sprinkles from the sky. tsukishima is glad he got to sit next to you and that he needed a pencil that day. 

every day the two of you walk to the corner store, and every day he walks you home. just like clockwork and the rustling of leaves. 

gen taglist (fill out this form) @tansypansydandy @phoenix-eclipses @h-llsp-wn @megapteraurelia @nomyimi @ottocre @xiaoquanquans @yatoatyourservice @avis-writeshq @fweakygyatt

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[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

yay i cant wait so excited i have been waiting for a while to read this fic. its loki or tony!

fem!plus size reader. wc: 580.

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | i must admit that the plot got away from me on this one, the fluffiness practically poured out of my fingertips. it's been a while since i've written for loki, but it is always a pleasure doing so. thank you for your request!!

cw! insecure fic <3

Being with Loki made you nervous, and not in the way that many people would think. 

He didn’t make you feel threatened nor was he mean, it was just that most of the time you’re around him you can’t help but sink into your head like quicksand. 

Why did he choose you when he had so many other options? Was he settling? What did other people think when they saw you guys together? Your stream of thought was almost laughable, because you knew that Loki didn’t care about what you looked like or anything trivial like that.

“What’s wrong, my love?” 

Your eyelashes fluttered, breaking your dissociative state. “Hm?” You hummed. 

“I asked you what’s wrong.” His tone was forever patient, his fingertips were feather light against the skin of your arm.

You were tucked into his side, the mood of your room domestic as a television show played pointlessly in the background. Loki was never really interested in human delicacies such as at home entertainment, he would much rather spend his free time with you.

“Oh… I’m just thinking.” Your voice was dismissive, almost like what you were saying didn’t really matter, which wasn’t true in the slightest because your boyfriend hung off of every word you said, committing it to memory.

He never forgot human holidays like christmas, birthdays or anniversaries, because those types of things mattered to you – and unfortunately he had to figure that out the hard way – but you bet your ass he never forgot it again.

“Please tell me what’s on your mind, dove.” Loki nuzzles his nose into your temple, placing a soft kiss on the side of your face. A shiver shoots itself up your spine, and the sensation makes you melt in his arms. Leave it up to him to basically pry whatever he wanted out of you.

“I don’t know. It’s stupid.” You shrug. “Nothing you say will ever be stupid.” You groan and curl into him deeper. “Fine. I just… I’m getting into that weird place in my head, you know? Like… it feels like no matter how many times you reassure me that I’m gorgeous and all this other super sweet stuff, none of it sticks. It’s like my brain can’t believe it.”

Loki sits there in silence for a moment, stewing on your words before speaking. He knew how sensitive this topic was for you, and though he was the God of Mischief, he would never make a mockery of your struggles.

“I understand you, darling. I know that through your years of being on earth, many humans haven’t been kind to you, and I out of everyone know what it feels like to be different, but –” He hooks a finger under your chin and coaxes you to look at him. 

Though your gaze is shy, you steele yourself despite the way that your cheeks heat under his touch.

“I can assure you that I have not chosen to be with you to make a mockery of you. I am with you because you are beautiful. Your soul sings to me, my dove. You are kind and your heart is unyielding. You are true to yourself and others. That is what makes you shine.”

You feel unshed tears burn behind your waterline and you scoff wetly, but you can’t fight the smile that inevitably breaks out on your face.

“Loki?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I love you.”

He laughs, and his chest rumbles with the joyous tune.

“I love you too.”

© ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused .ᐟ