deelooc - Tumblr blog

[deelooc]

Moriarty the patriot as text posts pt. 4/?

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if you would be so kind as to reblog this if you feel insecure about your writing skills.

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Back on my tr bullshit

If you like my art, help by reblogging ♡ because i can’t seem to get my art noticed :)

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Hello! first, I apologize if there is something that is not understood 😔English is not my first language uwu Second, I love your blog and your writing 💞💞, I don't know if you are recibing ideas, but it would be nice to see an tattoo artist!eren 🤤🥵🥵 that shows you the most delicate and sensitive parts of the body where you can get a tattoo 😳😳😳

Cute

A/N: This was just a dumb and cute drabble I wrote up ok have fun lol

Length: 3.3k

CW: Eren thinks reader is fucking adorable ok love that for him, mention of needles (cause tattoo), oral (f receiving)

ALSO! Don’t forget to vote on which story you’d like to see a part two of 💕

You’re staring at the ceiling, anxiously fidgeting your fingers at your sides and swinging your feet as you lay back against the plush leather chair. You’re alone in one of the rooms at the local tattoo shop, waiting for the tattoo artist to begin working on you. It’s the first time you’re getting a tattoo, a small one to match your best friend’s tattoo, placed on the right side of your ribcage.

The tattoo artist, whom you were told by the blonde receptionist is named Eren, hasn’t shown yet and with each passing second your anxiety only gets worse.

Then soon enough he does show, and it only makes you more nervous.

After he comes inside the room, he stands by your chair, tall and muscular with long brown hair and the prettiest green eyes you’ve ever seen. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with the tattoo shop’s logo paired with black jeans, and his arms are covered in various tattoos – there doesn’t seem to be any kind of theme, a mixture of symbols, animals, skulls, even some cartoon characters and superheroes. He’s had a lot of work done on him and it shows. It makes you feel just a bit lame, to be so nervous over one silly tattoo.

“Hey, my name’s Eren,” he starts, looking you down from head to toe. He thinks you’re cute, pretty even. Your anxiety over the incoming tattoo is even more adorable, he thinks with a grin.

He sticks out his hand above your chest as a greeting and you place your palm in his, giving it a weak shake as you tell him your name. It makes him laugh, a deep chuckle as he lets go of your hand.

“You’re shaking,” he comments, “Relax, it won’t be so bad.”

He washes his hands in the sink in the corner of the room thoroughly with warm water and soap. After drying them, he turns around to begin gathering his tools and inks. He has a tray on wheels that he places next to your chair where he places down the inks, ink cups, and needles. You can also see that he places a razor and a damp cloth off to the side. The whole set up almost reminds you of a dentist’s office, only the color palette is dark and grungy, and you’ll be feeling a lot more pain than a simple cleaning.

“It’s my first tattoo,” you tell him sheepishly between the clattering of his supplies.

He turns around and quirks an eyebrow, “First tattoo and you pick right above your ribs? That’s brave.”

He snaps on a pair of blue nitrile gloves, and reaches for the razor.

“Is the ribs a bad place to tattoo?” You asked curiously.

“Well… it hurts, not gonna lie to you,” he says, and he lifts his t-shirt to show you his own tattoo on his ribs. It’s very beautiful, an intricate design of colors surrounding a bird, but you only glance at it for a moment, distracted by this man’s chiseled chest and washboard abs. You turn away, heat rising to your cheeks. He takes note of your bashfulness but continues with, “This one hurt like a bitch, to be honest.”

“That’s not doing much to help me feel better,” you mutter as Eren takes a seat on a rolling stool beside you.

He chuckles, “Sorry. Jus’ being honest.”

You turn to him and the both of you are just staring at each other for a while, until Eren laughs again.

“Your top.”

You snap out of your staring contest with those pretty emeralds of his to realize he’s telling you to take your shirt off.

“Right. Sorry.”

You lift your back up off the leather chair, just enough to peel off your shirt from your torso. You bring it over your head and Eren’s treated to the lovely sight of your clothed breasts. It’s not the first time he’s tattooed a woman’s chest, maybe not even the hundredth, but you’re really attractive and he’s a man, what can he do but stare?

You feel your skin growing warm under his gaze, and you realize as he continues to stare with that shit-eating grin that he meant your bra too. You reach behind your back but at the chair’s angle it's hard to take it off.

“Need help?”

“Yeah, okay.”

He leans over you, a gloved hand pressing to your back to find the clip of your bra. It’s cool to the touch and your body gets startled at the contact. Plus, his face is really close and he smells really good.

“Cold?” he asks as he pinches the clasp open. Your bra sags over your shoulders.

“Yeah, just a little,” you reply, a bit of a nervous titter to your voice. You slip your arms out of the bra and now your chest is completely exposed. You lie back and stare at the ceiling, unable to meet his gaze.

“I’m gonna shave the spot where the tattoo goes,” he tells you as he brings the razor close to your chest, “Needa do it so the hair doesn’t get in the way.”

You nod and affirm his actions with a low hum. His left hand comes up to the underside of your breast, and he holds it away as his other hand begins to shave your skin below it. It’s cold and it’s prickly, and you wince with each swipe of the razor against your skin. Eren’s brows are furrowed in concentration and he looks quite endearing with his tongue poking out between his teeth. You want to laugh but don’t, for fear that your chest shaking with laughter would interrupt his work.

He catches you grinning though, eyes turning up to you as he asks, “Got a joke you wanna share with the class, doll?” His voice is full of mirth, only because he finds you really cute.

“It’s nothing…just thinking of something a friend told me,” you lie, and hope it sounds convincing.

It doesn’t, but Eren lets it slide.

He wipes away at your skin with a damp cloth after setting down the razor. Then, he picks up the sheet with the stencil and holds it in front of the location for your tattoo.

His eyes quickly flicker towards your face, as you eagerly await for him to continue. Nervousness has molded into a mixture of fear and anticipation, your nerves still on edge but set to a low frequency thanks to Eren’s calm and honest nature.

He wipes at your skin with the damp cloth once more before setting down the stencil against your skin. He peels away the background paper, leaving a purple etching of what’s to become your tattoo. He allows you a moment to stand up and look in the mirror, to see for the last time how your virgin canvas will look once it’s painted. And he smiles, as he always does whenever a customer approves, as your nervous expression becomes one of excitement.

“It looks great,” you say to his reflection.

“Let’s get started then, yeah?” He says, and you’re back into the black dentist-style chair in the room. Soon the small room is filled with the noise of the tattoo machine and the sounds of Eren’s preparations. In front of you he begins to open the sterile packages for the materials. He sets aside a cup of clean water and some ointment. When everything for the tattoo is ready, he sits back down on the stool and checks with you one final time.

“It’s a small tattoo, won’t take long. It’ll be over before you know it,” he says reassuringly, jade eyes surprisingly calm and gentle. He doesn’t want to worry you, though he knows it will be painful.

You nod silently as he rubs some ointment on your skin. You feel like you’re at the top of the first drop on a rollercoaster, a mixture of fear and excitement buzzing throughout your body.

He grips the tattoo gun in his hand and dips into the black ink, before his other hand comes to your breast once more to hold it away. One last look at you, a silent ‘Ready?’ spoken from his gaze, is quelled by your smile and a single nod from your head.

He begins the tattoo and he wasn’t kidding when he said that shit hurt.

“Deep breaths,” he tells you as he traces the lines of your tattoo. “You’ll get used to it, just relax.”

You do as he says, taking a deep breath and steeling your nerves, your body’s reaction to the pain in the form of your clenched fists at your sides. The tattoo is rather small and simple, and the tracework doesn’t take very long. You ask questions here and there about Eren’s experience tattooing, and about the process and some of the more intricate work he’s done, and he answers all your questions eagerly and honestly. Having conversation with him is quite nice, you find it, though sometimes it’s hard to meet his gaze because he’s just so damn good-looking. But thanks to his distracting conversation and his alluring smiles, by the end of it you’re becoming dull to the painful pinching and stabbing of the needle, and the only thing that hurts is your chest from your heart beating so quickly within it.

When he wipes away at the lines, he smiles up at your weary face, “You did great, champ. Just gotta do the shading. Take a break for a minute while I switch needles.”

He taps your bare thigh with his palm before he stands to switch out the supplies. You relax into the chair, your skin stinging with the pain but otherwise you feel okay. From what you’ve heard, the shading tends to be quite painful too, so you don’t feel like you’re quite out of the woods yet.

The tattoo is a simple black and white, so he doesn’t need to worry about changing and blending several colors, which makes it an easier experience for you. All he does is switch the needle to a mag needle and dips it in the black once more.

“This part will hurt but it’s quick, promise,” he says, watching as your body tenses up again against the chair. You nod and he begins the quick shading work, and holy fuck does shading over your ribs hurt. You’re wincing in pain but otherwise you sit through it, this time in silence as Eren concentrates on the shading.

It’s over quickly, as he promised. “Not so bad was it?” He asks. But the frown on your face proves otherwise.

“That hurt so bad,” you whined comically and he laughed.

“Sorry, angel. Pick an easier spot next time,” he says as he applies the dressings to your tattoo. When it's wrapped up, you look up at him directly. He’s removing his gloves and pushing away the tray with the supplies. When he turns around, his gaze is unreadable. Not that you can get a glimpse into his head, but he's having thoughts and those thoughts concern you.

“So… for next time… which spots do you recommend?” You ask him.

He takes a seat back down on the stool next to you. His eyes dance between your bare chest, your plump wet lips, and your cute innocent-looking doe eyes peering back at him. He’s giving you a look that’s turning more heated with every second. Eren’s whole being seems to perk up at the words ‘next time’.

“You should get a tattoo wherever you want to, but in terms of the pain…” he reaches out a hand to rub down your arms, “Your arms are the easiest – they’re the least sensitive,” then he brushes over your thighs. His palms are warm, his touch is slow and purposeful, “Your thighs too, that's a place that doesn’t hurt much.”

You swallow harshly. “So…So where are the most sensitive parts? What should I avoid?”

His hand is still on your thigh, and he feels you squirming as your tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip before tugging it into your teeth. You couldn’t be more obvious about it, but he doesn’t mind. He thinks it’s all the more endearing that you’re being so obvious with your attraction to him.

“Well,” he scoots over towards your feet. You’re wearing flip flops because it’s a hot summer day, and his hands graze over your bare skin, “The feet are the worst. It hurts and it fades, definitely don't do those.”

You nod as he comes back closer to your chest, “Where else?”. You sit up in the chair, and swing your legs to the side so you’re facing him. He scoots closer, spreading his legs so yours are in between his.

“Well the tattoo you just did is one of the worst,” he says, and his hand skips over your raw tattoo, starting at the sternum between your breasts, before slowly tracing up to your throat. He’s deliberately dragging two fingers up against your skin, and relishes in the way you shiver in response. “This whole area’s terrible too. Right above all those bones. Hurts like hell.”

“I’ll remember not to tattoo there,” you reply, and you want to smile, but the way he’s staring at you is so intense your eyes drag down to his lips.

“There’s a couple more spots I can show you,” he says, and it sounds like an invitation.

“Where else, Eren?”

He cups a palm around the back of your neck and brings you closer. “Neck’s pretty painful, though it’s not the worst.” He continues to pull you closer, until you can feel his breath above your lips, “Here’s pretty bad though,” he whispers, capturing your lips for a kiss. He’s not surprised at all when you kiss him back. He pulls away with a smirk, “Lips are really bad.”

“Are they?” You ask, voice going soft as you recover from the daze he’s left you in.

“Yeah,” he leans in again, and tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, before dousing the flame across its surface with his tongue. “Really painful.”

“I’ll–ah–I’ll remember that,” you stutter, because Eren’s lips trace down the path from your lips to your sternum, all patches of skin that would hurt like a bitch to tattoo. His breath is so warm against your skin, which was cool because of the rather chilly room you were in. He left goosebumps behind on each patch of skin his lips touched.

“Here too,” he murmurs as his lips traverse the skin leading to your navel, “Tattoos here are awful.”

His hands rest on your knees, while yours card through his hair. There’s definitely a few more places he hasn’t shown you, but the most important one is the one he wishes to show you now.

“There’s one more, baby,” he says, his face right above your stomach, looking up at you with those fiery green eyes behind the lengths of his brown lashes. “One more place you definitely shouldn’t get tattooed. If you’ll let me show you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as his fingers hook on either side of your shorts.

“Show me.”

Your body briefly lifts up from the leather chair as he pulls down your shorts, down over your knees and right off once they are past your ankles. He grins devilishly when he spots your panties, darkened with your wetness.

“Someone’s an eager student, hm?” He teases, and by instinct you move to close your legs. But he pushes them apart, resting the back of your knees in the crevice of his elbows, leaning down to place kisses along your inner thighs. “Definitely don’t get one here,” he murmurs against your skin.

You nod, whimpers leaving your throat as he gets closer and closer to your center. When he reaches the skin where your pussy meets your thighs, he licks a stripe up the surface. He pushes you slightly back gently, your thighs now being lifted by his strong arms, and your palms behind your back on the chair to support you. You lean back, your fresh tattoo still stinging a bit, but otherwise you're completely enraptured in this moment with Eren.

Eren hooks a finger under your panties, pushing the fabric aside and tucking it right where he had licked you. Your cunt glistens under the parlor’s lights, slick dripping down your heat, and Eren licks his lips in anticipation.

“You’re so wet, doll…want me to touch you?” he asks, and you nod at his inquiry of consent.

“Yes, please,” you reply, and he can see you’re clenching around nothing. He gives you the touch you so crave by pressing his tongue against your clit, a groan escaping his throat at the taste. He flicks his tongue over your bud several times, and it is then that you note he has a tongue piercing. The cool titanium adds pressure and cools your heat, a sensation you’ve never felt before.

“Eren–that’s–”

“Hm?” he hums against your cunt, sending vibrations through your skin. He realizes, when he presses his tongue against you again, that you’re reeling in reaction to his piercing on your skin. He only smirks, pressing it further between your lips and onto your clit. You’re trying your best to keep quiet (there are others just outside the room, afterall), but your voice is ever so gradually picking up with each time that you moan out Eren’s name.

He slips a finger inside of you as his tongue clamps down on your clit. One of your hands that was behind you on the chair comes up to his hair, and you grab some of his brown locks, pushing him further into you. He doesn’t mind, only picks up the pace of his sucking and licking, sounds becoming more loud and lewd with each passing second.

After the addition of a second finger, the pumping turning into squelching sounds, you feel your orgasm starting to take form in your core.

“Eren, I’m gonna–”

He curls his fingers inside you, brushing that lovely spongy spot inside that has you clenching tight around his digits. He doesn’t let up with his tongue either, and quickly you’re cumming on his fingers, with a loud sob that you hope and pray no one else in the shop heard.

“Good girl,” he says, suckling on his fingers as your chest heaves from your panting. “You taste so sweet,” he says, his voice low as he groans in satisfaction. He leans down and laps up whatever release has dripped down your skin, overstimulation threatening to hit your nerves, but he stops before you could even begin to wince.

You take a deep breath of air, “That was…”

“Good?” He asks with a grin, teetering somewhere between boyish and mischievous. He sets your legs back onto the chair and holds up your shorts for you along with your shirt and bra.

“Yeah… it was good,” you manage to say, embarrassment causing heat to rise to your face and steam to pour out your ears. Eren catches himself laughing again at you, because even after that you are being so damn cute.

You step into your shorts. As you put your top back on, you give Eren a questioning look. Turns out he’d said that last part out loud.

“You think I’m cute?” You ask.

He rises out of the stool to stand before you, and he shoots you a grin. “Yeah…not just think, I know so.”

Eren tacks on an invitation to that statement, asking you out on a date. After you accept, and after he tells you some final instructions for tattoo care and bids you on your way, he walks with you to the exit of the private room. Just before you go, with your hand on the doorknob, he says lowly, just for you to hear:

“Maybe next time I can teach you a little something about piercings.”

“Piercings? Not just the one on your tongue?”

With a wink he says, “I have quite a few more… in places that aren’t so visible.”

And your reaction to that? That was definitely the cutest thing Eren’s ever seen.

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[deelooc]

Y/N: *before finding out Alucard is a vampire* “I don’t get it. Why do all these bats like to snuggle up to me? I’ve never been around them before, so why do they like me?”

Walter: *trying not to scream*

Seras: *squeals in delight*

[deelooc]

@alucardownsmyass

[deelooc]

four times

pairing: alucard x reader

summary: three times you realized you wanted to marry alucard, and the one time you did something about it.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: oral (f. recieving) , blood

A/N: so basically, i'm in love with adrian and there aren't enough stories for him on here so i decided to take things into my own hands. !

PLEASE SEND IN THIRSTS AND REQUESTS!

I

“You aren’t doing that correctly.”

If you could roll your eyes into the back of your head, you would sure as hell be doing it at that moment.

“Well, how am I supposed to do it? Because apparently, you know everything,” You responded to the blonde man, standing up to stretch your aching back.

“Not like that, and I do know everything,” He replied.

“Gods you're terrible.” Alucard chuckled at your response, standing up straight and walking over to you from his previous spot on the wall.

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” He said once he reached you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You sighed, your body sinking into his chest as you put down your tools.

“This shit isn’t gonna build itself, love.” One of the villagers had sent in a request a few days ago for help mending one of the school buildings, and since Sypha and Trevor seemed to fuck off to god only knows where at the beginning of the week, Greta was off securing trade routes, that left you and Alucard to get the work done. How could you be the one to disturb him when he looked like such an angel as he slept.

“You could have waited for the sun to rise, and until you had eaten a sufficient breakfast.”

“How do you know I didn’t eat breakfast,” You asked, turning around in his arms to face him.

“You just told me.” Adrian laughed as you groaned, letting your head fall against his chest. You were tired. You had been out here for a good couple of hours with no break, and you were too lazy to walk all the way to the well to get some.

“Here. Sit, eat. I can finish this.” Alucard picked up a brown sack from the floor and placed it in your hands, you hadn’t even realized he brought it in with him. Sitting on one of the chairs you opened the sack in your lap. There was an assortment of various fruits and cheeses, along with a bagel spread with butter and honey.

You looked up to thank him, only to find the beautiful man already hard at work, crouching where you had just been moments ago. Silently thanking him, you dug into the delicious breakfast he had prepared for you, content to sit back and watch as the muscles in his back rippled, the flesh along his biceps tightening.

I’m going to marry this man.

»»————-　♔　————-««

II

Your cycle was never a pleasant time.

Cramps, headaches, and vomiting were symptoms that you often suffered from which led you to become mostly bedridden during those few days of the month. It's not that you wanted to stay in bed for most of the day, it's that Adrian forced you to stay in bed most of the day.

To say you were sick of it was an understatement. You had been dealing with these since your womanhood had begun, but every month Alucard made it seem like the world was ending.

“Jesus, Alucard. If I wanted a pestering wife I would’ve dated a woman.” You said, swatting his hand from your waist when he tried to lead you back to his bed after finding you wandering the halls. Alucard chuckled but said nothing, his hand resuming its spot along the small of your back.

“I can walk you know,” You grumbled out, a small pout coming to your face as he walked you into your shared bedroom.

“Yes, I am well aware of how much of a strong, independent woman you are, my love.”

“Then let me be independent, pest.” Although you said those words with a glare, you made no move to stop Alucard as he sat you down on the bed. Because truthfully, you were in immense amounts of pain. But at the same time, you wanted to work and not sit here useless.

“Okay,” Alucard said. You raised a brow, eyeing the smirking man suspiciously.

He doesn’t think I can do it, you realized. That only spurred you on more.

“Okay. Fine,” You said, pushing yourself off of the bed. You made it to the door before a violent cramp hit your stomach causing you to double and latch onto the nearest surface, which just so happened to be a precious vase.

“Fuck,” You shouted, part out of annoyance at the broken glass littering the floor, and out of anger that you just proved yourself wrong.

“Do you want me to help you, or will I just be your pestering wife.”

“Oh just come over here and help me you fucking asshole,” You cursed at him, not daring to move out of the fear of getting glass stuck in your foot. In the blink of an eye, Alucard was floating by your side. He picked you up gently as he carried you to bed. He set you down all too quickly, causing you to whine for him. In response, he gave you a small smile.

“Let me clean this,” He said. With a wave of his hand the broken pieces of glass collected in the air, then dropped unceremoniously into the waste bin in the corner of the room.

“Thank you,” You said as you finally succumbed to his relentless hovering and melted into the covers of your bed. Most of the time, you could and would take care of yourself. But there were these small moments where you let yourself be vulnerable that Alucard cherished. He enjoyed taking care of you and being able to see that blissful smile grace your features.

He was going to leave you to rest, he should have, that would have been the most respectful thing to do. But how could he when your green slip dress had ridden up to your hip, leaving your legs completely exposed? Your underwear was wrapped tight around your body to prevent the blood from flowing, but even then he couldn't help but want to ravish you.

After silently closing and locking the bedroom door, Alucard crept towards the bed. He settled himself on the edge, his eyes scanning every inch of your body. His hand ghosted over your calf, then higher, and higher until it reached just below your hip. He rarely ever let himself indulge in his vampire instincts, but you made it so hard.

“What are you doing?” You asked groggily from the bed.

“I’m taking care of you,” Alucard whispered as his fingers latched onto the hem of your undergarment. With a clean swipe from his nail, the fabric fell from your body, leaving a paper-thin cut in its wake. You hissed at the stinging feeling, but that was quickly replaced by a moan when Alucard's tongue cleaned the surface.

He could get drunk off of your scent alone, he thought as he lowered his face to you. You covered your face in embarrassment when you felt his tongue tentatively teach out to lick you, but you could push him away. It felt good.

His eyes shot open when he tasted your blood on his tongue. That was all he needed before he buried his face in your cunt like a starved man. The blood he was consuming from you went straight to his cock as he started to rut against the bed. He drank from you until he was sure he was drunk, and then he drank some more.

The first time he looked up at you, you nearly came on the spot. The entire lower part of his face was covered in blood, your blood. You let out a whine as you pushed his head down again, an action to which he made no objection to. This time, his tongue pushed its way inside of you, drawing more and more out of you. You writhed underneath him, your hands switching from guiding his head to curling themselves in the bedsheets.

“Are you going to cum, my sweet?” Alucard teased, his deep voice sending shivers to your very core. You nodded as words slowly managed to escape you. He let out a deep chuckle as he added one of his slender fingers into you.

“Come on then, don’t keep me waiting.”

A playful nip of his fangs to your clit was all you needed to come undone on his face. Alucard's hands latched onto your thighs, keeping you in place as your hips moved frantically over his face, cringing your heat into him. By the time you had come down from your earth-shattering orgasm, you had coated his entire face red. He looked like the devil when he smirked up at you, making a show of licking the blood off his lips.

Being the considerate partner he was, Alucard didn’t dare kiss you after the sinful act he had just bestowed upon you. Instead, your beloved quickly made his way to the bathroom to wash the blood from his face and chest. When he finished, he came back to you with a damp towel and gently cleaned your legs.

“Let's sleep somewhere else tonight, my love. It’s filthy here.” Alucard said as he picked you up yet again.

“Yeah,” You said, still drunk from your orgasm. “And who’s fault is that?”

“I couldn’t help myself.” He replied with a wink. You laughed as he carried you into one of the many empty rooms in the castle, smiling and joking all the way.

I’m going to marry this man, was the last thought you had before sleep overtook you for the night.

»»————-　♔　————-««

III

“And then what happened, father?” Cecilia - one of the orphaned children - asked.

“And then,” Adrian began as he lifted the laughing child into his lap, “The prince and his princess lived happily ever after in their palace. To this day, they are still looking over the kingdom that was gifted to them by fate.” The children let out various different noises of joy as the story, your story, came to an end.

“Now run along, it’s almost dinner time.” Lots of the children groaned but picked themselves off of the ground. Some lingered to give Alucard a hug, or just to tell him how much they loved him. After everyone left, only Cecile and Alucard remained.

He had taken a liking to her, and she to him, after one fateful day. She had run away from the orphanage in the night. No one had been able to find her for a day. The news had reached Sypha, who told you, who told Adrian. He set out not an hour after he heard, in search of the child. He had found her curled up in a cave, a bag of fruits and bread lying crumbled next to her on the ground.

Adrian had managed to coax her to come home, and since then he and the child have been inseparable. Not that you minded much, the girl was a pure light in the world, that never failed to make you and Alucard smile. While she technically wasn’t living with you, nor had you formally adopted her, she was practically your own.

“It’s time for your dinner as well,” You said as you approached them. Cecilia started, jumping out of Adrian's lap, while the other simply turned around to face you, a beautiful smile on his face.

“It would seem that it is,” Alucard said as he stood. Cilia’ followed closely behind her, her dark brown hand latched tightly onto his trousers.

“Don’t scare us like that,” She said with a pout as she went to your side.

“Yeah, don’t scare us like that.” Your boyfriend repeated with a shit-eating grin. You rolled your eyes as you took Cecelia’s hand in yours, beginning to lead the girl back into the castle.

“Stop that,” You said to Alucard as he followed behind you.

“I’m afraid I do not know what you mean.” You really did hate that man sometimes.

“Since you want to have such a smart mouth, how about you make dinner tonight,” You said, pointing in the general direction of the kitchens as you stopped in the middle of the castle's grand hall.

“It’ll be my pleasure. How does pasta sound?” Bastard, you thought.

“Yes please!” Cecilia cheered. Alucard smiled down at her.

“Pasta it is. And where would my princess like to eat tonight?” Alucard asked as he bent down to her height. She blushed and looked up at you for confirmation, before looking back to Adrian.

“The roof with the bars on it.” She said. Ah, the rooftop dining space. You and Sypha had made that space a few years ago. It started as a place for the two of you to drink wine in peace, without the presence of your pestering partners. But lately, it had turned into a family space of sorts. There was a dining table, set with four chairs. As well as blankets and pillows on the floor for relaxing. It was encased by low iron bars, those had been erected after you began to take Cecilia up there as well.

“Of course,” Alucard replied with a bow. In the blink of an eye, he had scooped the both of you into his arms and transported you to your rooftop.

“Wine?” He asked you quietly.

“White, please.” You answered. He nodded, gave Cecilia one last smile, and disappeared.

As they waited for Adrian to finish dinner, Cecilia told you about her day. You listened attentively, adding in your own opinions when she asked for them. You smiled as she babbled on and on. You were so grateful, for this life you are able to live with a loving boyfriend, and an amazing child.

You could be humble and say it was too good to be true, but then you would be lying to yourself. You knew how hard you and Adrian worked to create such a wonderful future for yourselves and your family.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Came Alucard's smooth voice as he appeared on the food. He held a bowl of pasta in one hand and held a bottle of wine in the other. Cecilia giggled as she dashed to the table, sitting patiently as she waited for Adrian to plate her food.

“Thank you, my love,” You said as he handed you a plate.

“Of course.”

After dinner, you stayed on the roof until the moon rose in the night sky. Cecilia had crashed on Adrian's shoulder shortly after finishing her food, big meals often had that effect on her.

“I love you,” Alucard whispered into your ear as he held you. You smiled, leaning into his chest. You laid on one of the pillows, a blanket draped across your bodies, Cecilia asleep on Adrian's shoulder.

“I love you,” You responded. You leaned up to kiss him, his soft lips meeting yours for the first time that day.

“I love you,” He repeated. It sounded like he needed you to know that, needed to know how much you meant to him. How much all of this meant to him.

You knew. You did.

“I know.” Alucard let out a sigh as he pulled you impossibly closer to him, kissing your cheek, then your neck, and finally your head.

As you began to drift off to sleep in his embrace you again knew one thing for certain.

You were going to marry him.

»»————-　♔　————-««

IV

You knew that what you were doing wasn't traditional, but nothing about your life had ever been, so why start now. You had gone into town earlier that month and gotten a ring for Alucard. It was a simple gold band with a flower carved into the inside. You had the money to get something extravagant, but you knew Alucard wouldn’t want that, and neither did you.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, you and Alucard bathed in your spacious tub together. At some point, you remember him trying to wash your body, but that had all too quickly turned into wandering hands and soft kisses. So for now, you just sat and enjoyed each other's company.

“You are thinking very loudly, my love,” Alucard teased across from you. You glared at him as he smiled, combing through his long wet hair.

“What is it?” He asked, taking a kinder approach. You huffed, falling back against your side of the tub as you continued to watch him.

“Do you want to do it?” Adrian asked when you still hadn't said anything. He went to you and placed his hairbrush in your hands before turning around. That wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but who were you to object. He sank into the water as you rose from it, setting yourself up at the appropriate angle.

“How long have we been together?” You asked softly as you started to comb through his hair. Alucard's head lulled to the side, he always loved it when you played with his hair. It took a second for his brain to register the question.

“Two years, four months and -”

“Christ, I get it.” You said with a laugh as you cut him off. He chuckled, leaning further into your body.

“Why?” He asked after a short silence.

“No reason,” You replied. He didn’t believe you, but he let it go.

You brushed the rest of his hair quietly, humming a light tune to fill the space every once in a while. How should I do this? You asked yourself. How do I even bring this up? The ring had been safely tucked away in your undergarments dresser for weeks, and you still hadn’t built up the courage to ask him. You would have to wait until the bath was finished, you supposed.

“The water’s getting cold. If you’d like to stay longer I can fill it again.” Adrian suggested. You hummed in agreement putting down the brush. You got out, not bothering to wrap a towel around yourself as you walked into the main area of your bedroom. You couldn’t help but glance towards your dresser, agonizing over when, where, and how. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts you didn’t notice as he called for you, saying the bath was ready.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay angel?” Alucard asked as you both returned to the bath. Again, he was met with silence.

“Sweetheart -” He started.

“Will you marry me?” You didn’t allow yourself to think about it a second later, blurting the question before you had the chance to stop yourself.

There was a short silence, and then, “Are you actually asking me or are we speaking hypothetically?”

You glared again, a common gesture at this point.

“I’m asking. Will you marry me?” You repeated. Alucard smirked.

“Do you even have a ring?”

“God you are such a terrible person just answer the fucking question.”

Alucard laughed as he moved closer to you until your noses were almost touching.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one asking you.” You didn’t offer him a reply, only raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. Yes, I will marry you, sweetheart.” Your answering grin nearly hurt your cheeks from how wide it was. Adrian smiled as well, connecting your lips for a sweet, sweet kiss. His hands found the small of your back, bushing your chest against his as he stole your breath again, and again, and again.

“Do you have a ring though?” Adrian asked after a few minutes of kisses. You rolled your eyes and left the bedroom, leaving a confused Alucard in your wake. He heard shuffling, only to see you return a few moments later with a velvet box in your hands. At that, he finally teared up.

This was real, he thought. You were really asking him to become your husband. Asking him to love and cherish you until your last breath.

“Are you happy now?” You asked, opening the box to reveal the simple band. Alucard smiled.

“I’m always happy when I’m with you.” He said, kissing you again. You smiled as you slipped the ring onto his finger. Smiled as he picked you up and carried you to the bed, the bath long forgotten. Smiled as he made love to you that night, over and over again until you forgot your name.

Smiled the next morning, when you realized that Alucard was now your fiance.

[deelooc]

Jujutsu Kaisen where everything is the same except that Gojo thinks cursed spirits should be called bad vibes, and exorcisms should be called vibe checks.

[deelooc]

reblog and make a wish! this was removed from tumbrl due to “violating one or more of Tumblr’s Community Guidelines”, but since my wish came true the first time, I’m putting it back. :)

[deelooc]

oml

My dear Ran, what are you doing to my weak female heart?

[deelooc]

to bigger blogs that act like they’re better than everyone else and only interact with other big accounts??

please humble yourself.

[deelooc]

[deelooc]

random ran hc

ran haitani would definitely high-five you right after sex.

just imagine like him pulling out collapsing on your side both of you coming down from your high and then he looks at you and goes like *raises his hand for you to high-five* with that dorky smile on his face.

calls you ‘champ’ 😭 😩

(you can’t convince me that that guy isn’t a weirdo)

[deelooc]

Baji & Chifuyu from CHIBIRIBE.

>> Follow / Like / Reblog to Save.

This episode was pretty intense with a hint of afterlife.

[deelooc]

pls like or reblog if you save/use. 💖

[deelooc]

The red string of fate… 

(likes & reblogs r very appreciated)

[deelooc]

strange brew. (giorno x reader)

♥ | a chapter from my collection on ao3, the kick inside. special thanks to @the-mushroom-queen-writes for looking it over. you're the best.

summary: giorno and reader make tea together.

Raised wooden garden boxes of herbs ranging from dense and fluffy to roaming and delicate bloom in the courtyard beyond the sliding glass doors.

Outside, you see Giorno with the smallest pair of scissors you’ve ever seen and a metal colander in his arms. He snips off what looks like small daisies from a green clump happily growing from the soil. Multi-hued petals fill a good space of the colander.

For the loyal members of Passione, money being an issue is a predicament that’s entirely unheard of. Despite Narancia’s sometimes reckless spending habits, he’s anything but worn thin. Yet Giorno’s decided to be frugal and concoct his own tea blends. After bringing the prospect up to you and seeing your reaction, he set right to work. You’re thrilled to say the very least, knowing whatever he brews up will be simply divine.

Seated before the marble island in the kitchen, you’re struck with the natural atmosphere of the outdoors when Giorno returns, harvest under his arm. It’s unbelievably refreshing.

“Chamomile, hibiscus buds, and lavender,” informs Giorno. “We can use them how they are now, but drying them for future use may be a good idea.”

You take a long inhale of the soothing scent, reminding you of evenings with Fugo. Giorno’s bounty fills small cloth sachets around Fugo’s abode, endowing the space with something calming and sweet.

“How’s the mint?” you ask, tearing leaves from stems.

Giorno joins you at the island, sitting by your side on the vacant wooden stool. “Very well, thank you. At first having it in direct sunlight made me fearful of it getting dried out and leggy, but it seems to be thriving.”

You nod. “Will we have to dry the mint too?”

“I prefer it fresh. More robust flavour in my opinion.”

On his hands is a small layer of dirt, the black soil between the lines of his palms. He rises, noticing it as well, and washes the earth away in the porcelain sink.

You spy a stray leaf that must’ve been dancing in the wind before being blessed and landing on Giorno’s head. Joining his side before the sink, you pick it out and hold it close to your chest like Midas himself touched it. You smooth down the strays from his braid and chuckle, showing the offending green thing.

Giorno smiles and dawn breaks everywhere. “Remarkable. First a moth lands on my hand as I’m trying to trim the lavender, now a runaway leaf tries to find a home in my hair.”

You sink into his middle, tugging him close, the tip of his hipbone colliding with yours. “I’d say you’re magnetic, Giorno.”

From where you’re standing, the bright day outside ripples in through the window above the faucet, and beams of the lit world outside wonderfully shower the side of his face parallel to it. There’s a flicker of blue in his green eyes you hadn’t picked up before. Dynamic.

It’s hard to pull away from him, but you make an attempt.

Breaking away, you put the kettle on. A speckled, robin’s egg blue ceramic marvel that Bruno splurged on after Narancia tried making coffee in this treasure’s ancestor. It comes to life and begins to hiss like a rattlesnake as the element lights up.

A slight breeze picks up, and the lacy curtains rustle as delicately as the loose, gold wisps of Giorno’s braid flick into his face. He’s so colourful and warm; all pinks and yellows and greens of all shades. Blue veins on the backs of his hands and on the skin you cannot see complete his rainbow.

He really is summer personified.

The switch on the teapot clicks and steam rises from the spout. While you get the heavy pot from its element, Giorno drops his first attempt in either cup and motions for you to pour.

Water, boiled to perfection, covers the rotund infusers. Hues emerge and leak from the leaves and flowers and the aroma is uniquely tantalizing.

Instead of watching the kaleidoscope move, you keep a close eye on Giorno. His concentration on the oddly meditative receptacle breaks when he feels eyes on him.

“Have I accidentally made absinthe? You’re looking like you’re hypnotized.”

“You’re just very pretty, Giorno.”

“Pretty,” he echoes, mildly flustered. “Oh, thank you.”

Unable to help it, you squeal and lean into his shoulder affectionately. “So cute.”

Attempting to hide his suddenly pink face, Giorno takes a big sip of his trial. Within seconds Giorno’s face twists up into a faint look of disgust before falling back to the standard mildly serious.

“Burnt your tongue?”

“No,” he manages, “ Doesn’t taste right. Let’s try again,” he declares, and pushes away the colander of unused tea to a far corner of the countertop.

You laugh, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Now we know we have to dry the lavender,” Giorno says and rinses your cup of the malfeasance. A crime against teas everywhere.

Expecting the abysmal experiment to be over and done with, Giorno bats away that notion by approaching the designated tea cabinet. It’s used fairly frequently. Giorno provides you first with a new cup.

Giorno’s frog mug! A prized standard cup depicting those iconic amphibious critters leaping in a minimal, modern art style came into your hands.

“Where did you find this mug, Gio? It’s so cute!”

“That’s a secret.”

“How mysterious.”

Giorno’s thumb traces the engraved frogs the glass. “Can something be both cute and mysterious?”

Have you seen a mirror, Giorno?

“Of course.”

Giorno hums with a smile. “Well, the lavender and the rest are fine in the bowl. They’ll take some time to dry, so in the meantime would you care for some tea?”

“Yes, please,” you sing-song, and watch him make his way to the communal tea cabinet.

He glances among them, from gourmet menthe to Abbacchio’s secret stash of hot chocolate, and spies one he’s never seen before.

“Herbal cinnamon tea…” he says, turning it over in his hands. “Is it new?”

“Oh, let’s see,” you ponder. “I think it’s one of the gifts Bruno got you guys when he moved out.”

Convinced he’s not encroaching on someone else’s blend, Giorno tears into the opulently wrapped package and plops two bags into your respective cups before repeating pouring the water.

“Please, sit,” he mildly commands and you can’t help but obey.

Once again, you just sit and watch him work his magic. Giorno adorns his own tea with a dollop of creamer and a generous spoonful of honey and follows your order when he asks.

Finished, he joins your side again. Sweet steam billows from your cups and he holds his out for a gentle cheer.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers, Giorno.” Clink! You both take a sip and in unison hum in enjoyment, to which you chuckle. “Not too bad! Bruno always gets the best teas. I wonder where from.”

“He’s got a connection directly from a farmer in South Africa.”

“Whoa, really? Amazing.”

The steam flushes Giorno’s cheeks, only eyes and the bridge of his nose visible as he dives in for another sip. Apparently the hour changes and the new-old clock chimes a short song.

“It’s already noon?” Giorno asks.

“Haven’t you heard that time flies when you’re having fun?”

Giorno sets his cup down with a subdued clatter.

“Forgive me for saying this but,” he says, pausing to take a calming breath, “I’ve had a tremendous amount of fun with you today.”

“Why would I need to forgive you for that?” you laugh. Such a silly goose.

“Forgive me for this also.”

Lilac fills your nose when he presses his lips to yours. Chamomile, honey, rooibos... Ambrosia. Tenderly, it all mixes with his sweetness and your body reacts, curling into him like a young vine.

You part after a moment and stare deep into his face. “You’re forgiven. I love you.”

Giorno beams. “I love you too. More honey?”