#had to sketch this out really quick to let out all my feelings!!

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us V

Summary:

Y.N moves in with Aemond, however he has trouble dealing with his jealousy as Y.N grows closer to Aegon.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Fluff, Swearing, Jealousy, Insecurity, Miscommunication, Kissing, Semi Public Sex, P in V, Oral Sex (M Recieving).

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 5576

A.N - I used Zac Gabriel as the face claim for Daeron.

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Aemond was almost regretting his suggestion of going baby shopping the moment he stepped foot into the nursery store.

Rows and rows of items surrounded him, none of which he recognized apart from the basics: a cot, a pram and a changing table.

But what was all this other stuff? As he stood there, utterly bewildered, he picked up an odd-looking contraption with tubes and some kind of cup attached. His brow furrowed in confusion as he turned it over in his hands.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

Y.N. appeared beside him and gave him an amused smile. “That’s a breast pump,” she explained, gently taking it from him.

Aemond blinked. "Are you going to-breastfeed?"

Y.N. nodded. “I’ll give it a try. I read in one of those baby books that I can eventually express milk so you can help with feeds if you want.”

He gave a quick nod, relief washing over him. That, at least, made sense. He would be involved in every aspect of their baby's life, even the late-night feedings.

They continued walking through the aisles, moving past shelves lined with more creams, lotions, and baby products than Aemond had ever seen in his life.

“Babies have really sensitive skin,” Y.N. explained, picking up a tub of lotion and reading the label. “We’ll have to be careful with what we buy for them.”

Aemond was still trying to make sense of the endless products when Y.N. casually mentioned, “I’m thinking I’ll have to put the cot in my room, at least for now. My flat doesn’t have a spare room, so I’ll probably look for a bigger place when the baby gets a bit older-”

Without thinking, Aemond blurted out, “-You could come live with me.”

Y.N. stopped, turning to him in surprise.

He shifted awkwardly, realizing how fast he’d said it, but he pressed on. “-I have the room, and I could help more with the baby. I don’t want to miss out on anything-and it just makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, we’re having a child together, and I-I want you to feel supported. I want to be there for everything.”

Aemond started rambling, listing reason after reason, but Y.N. interrupted him with a soft smile, placing her hand on his arm.

"I'd like that," she said quietly, "-as long as I can contribute toward the bills. I won’t let you pay for everything."

A wave of relief and happiness washed over him, and he agreed, already picturing them as a family in his penthouse. His focus shifted when he spotted something on a nearby shelf.

A cot mobile, but not just any mobile—this one had tiny, intricately designed dragons hanging from it. He wound it up, and a soft, gentle lullaby began playing as the dragons turned lazily in the air.

Aemond smiled, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve always liked dragons,” he said, nostalgia filling his voice.

Y.N. smiled, too, remembering how his notebooks in school had been covered in his dragon sketches. “I remember.”

“This one,” Aemond said decisively, picking up the boxed version of the mobile. “This is the one I want for our baby.”

Y.N. nodded, touched by his excitement. It was clear how much this meant to him.

As he cradled the box in his hands, she smiled at him, already imagining their baby lying beneath the mobile, lulled to sleep by the soft music and the gentle movement of the dragons.

"Do you know what kind of pram you want?" Aemond asked, trying to sound knowledgeable but still feeling a little out of his depth.

Y.N. chuckled, taking his hand. “I’ve seen a few possibilities. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Aemond had practically marshalled his siblings into helping with Y.N.'s move, each of them assigned specific tasks.

The moving process was well underway, and he was determined that Y.N. wouldn’t lift a finger—especially not anything heavier than a pillow.

So, while Aegon, Daeron, and Aemond handled the heavy lifting, Y.N. and Helaena sat on the floor of her now almost-empty bedroom, packing the last of her things into boxes.

“Honestly, Aemond, I can carry other things,” Y.N. protested as she folded some clothes into a box.

“Absolutely not,” Aemond replied from across the room.

Helaena snickered, helping Y.N. close a box. “He’s being protective. Just let him.”

Y.N. shook her head fondly, turning back to Helaena. “Men.”

Meanwhile, Aegon, ever the opportunist, had loudly volunteered to help with the bedroom packing.

“I’ll handle the personal items!” he announced with a smirk, only to be met with a swift slap on the back of the head from Aemond.

“Go help move the boxes that are already packed and sealed” Aemond ordered, sending Aegon out of the room with a scowl.

Y.N. had already arranged for most of her furniture to go into storage, having decided that she didn’t need much in the way of bulky items.

There was only one exception: her grandfather's beloved armchair. The old, worn chair didn’t match Aemond’s sleek black-and-white decor at all, but Y.N. had insisted on bringing it with her.

Aemond had stood his ground, but when she tied him up in bed and kept edging him during sex, bringing him to the brink of his orgasm as she rode him only to stop, and after four times of being denied the chance to come he caved in, only for him to end up a begging moaning mess as Y.N overstimulated him.

Now, as Daeron worked through her collection of books and DVDs, he raised an eyebrow at what he found.

“She’s got a lot of horror here,” he remarked, flipping through a few titles. “She seriously likes this stuff?”

Aemond, overhearing, glanced over. “It’s her favourite genre. She’s obsessed with creature features and disaster movies, too.”

“Creature features?” Daeron asked, confused.

“You know, movies with killer sharks or giant, man-eating animals,” Aemond replied nonchalantly.

Daeron laughed, shaking his head. “She’s has weird taste-” he teased, only for his eyes to widen when he pulled out a book from a box. “Oh, hello. What’s this? Fifty Shades of—"

Before Daeron could finish, Aemond snatched the book from his hands. “Fifty Shades of Shite, that’s what,” Aemond grumbled. “Now stop messing around and pack.”

Daeron mock saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

Aemond then made his way to check on Aegon, who had unsurprisingly gotten distracted. His elder brother was rifling through a stack of old letters, his face a picture of mischief.

“What the hell are you doing?” Aemond snapped.

“Found some letters-” Aegon replied, waving one around. “-From Jace”

Aemond frowned deeply, but there was a gnawing sense of curiosity that led him to take a glance over Aegon’s shoulder.

Sure enough, Jace’s love-sick declarations and desperate apologies were scrawled across the pages.

Aemond’s scowl deepened, but despite the irritation boiling inside him, he said, “Just put them back. It’s not our business.”

Aegon, with a dramatic sigh, pretended to comply, but when Aemond wasn’t looking, he tossed the letters into the bin.

“So long, Jace, you fucking idiot,” Aegon muttered under his breath.

When Aemond went back to the bedroom, he found Y.N. and Helaena laughing together, nearly finished with the last of the packing. Y.N. was holding up a small box of condoms, grinning.

“Well,” she chuckled, “I guess we won’t be needing these anymore.”

Before Aemond could respond, Aegon’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Hey, I could use them! Saves me buying more.”

Y.N., completely unbothered, shrugged and tossed the box in his direction. “-I didn’t know you was seeing anyone.”

Aegon caught the box and smirked. “Not currently. But I do have my eye on someone,” he replied smugly. “Just a matter of time before she’s mine.”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow but didn’t press, going back to emptying her drawers.

Meanwhile, Aemond shot his brother a warning glare as Aegon winked suggestively at him, making his blood boil.

“Touch her, and I’ll kill you,” Aemond whispered to Aegon, to which his brother only grinned wider.

Y.N, oblivious to the tension between the brothers, finished packing her things and stood up, hands on her hips.

“Well, I think that’s everything. Let’s get the last boxes out, and then we can head over to the penthouse.”

As Y.N. looked around the penthouse, trying to get her bearings amidst the chaos of moving, she realized something was off.

"Aemond, where are all my things?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Aemond glanced up from the hallway, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “They’re in the other spare room,” he said casually, not catching the subtle shift in her expression.

Y.N.’s face fell. “Oh, s-so-I won’t be sharing your room?” she asked, her voice tight with a hint of disappointment.

Aemond, now noticing the change in her mood, looked confused. "I just assumed that you’d want your own space," he replied cautiously. "You know, somewhere you could have to yourself if you ever needed it."

Y.N. forced a smile, though her chest tightened. "N-No, it’s fine, I-I understand," she said quietly before slipping away down the hall and shutting herself into the spare room.

The click of the door felt like a punch to Aemond’s gut.

Aegon, who had been lounging on the couch, shot his brother a look of disbelief. “Well, aren’t you a fucking moron,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Daeron, standing nearby, chimed in with a frown. “You’re in love with her, she’s pregnant with your kid, and you ask her to move in, only to stick her in the spare room? What were you thinking?”

Helaena crossed her arms, giving Aemond a pointed look. “You need to fix this, and fast.” She shoved him gently towards the door.

Aemond swallowed, his stomach churning with guilt as he approached the spare room.

He knocked softly, and after a long moment, he heard her voice call from inside. “Come in.”

Aemond slipped inside, shutting the door gently behind him. Y.N. was sitting on the bed, surrounded by boxes, her eyes red as if she’d been fighting back tears. His heart sank, and he immediately knelt down in front of her, resting his hands on her knees.

“I’m so sorry,” Aemond said earnestly. “I should have talked to you first. I shouldn’t have just assumed anything.”

Y.N. gave him a small smile, but her eyes betrayed her hurt. “It’s okay. I understand.”

Aemond shook his head. “No, it’s not. I-I’ve never really lived with anyone before, not like this-” he confessed, his voice soft. “-As an adult, it’s all new to me. With Alys-she would only stay over every so often, but we never lived together. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Y.N.’s gaze softened as he spoke, her hand moving to cup his face gently. “I get that, Aemond. But it still hurt.”

He closed his eye, leaning into her touch. “I just wanted to make sure you were happy,” he murmured. “Of course, I want you in my bed every night, but I thought you might want a space to call your own. Where you can work on your art or-get away from me when I inevitably annoy you.” He smirked slightly at his own words, but his eyes were full of sincerity.

Y.N. smiled at that, her thumb brushing over his scared cheek. “Can I?” she asked hesitantly, motioning towards his eyepatch.

Aemond nodded, and she carefully slid the patch from his face, revealing his sapphire eye. Y.N. smiled softly, gazing at him. “There. Now I can see you,” she whispered.

The tenderness in her voice, the warmth of her touch—it was more than Aemond could take. He surged forward, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss.

His hands slid up her thighs to her waist, pushing her back gently until she was lying on the bed, her body sinking into the soft mattress.

The boxes around them were pushed aside, some tumbling onto the floor with a thud, but neither of them cared.

“I want you,” Aemond groaned into her mouth, his voice low and rough with desire.

Y.N. gasped, her breath shaky. “Your brothers and your sister-are here.”

Aemond smirked, his lips brushing against her neck. “We’d better be quiet then,” he teased, his fingers already working to pull her clothes off, his need for her growing with every passing second.

He peeled off his own shirt and lowered his trousers and boxers just enough to free his already hard cock.

Y.N audibly gasped when she felt Aemond’s fingers rubbing her folds.

“O-Oh Aemond” exclaimed Y.N as he slipped a finger inside her, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Always so warm-so wet for me” muttered Aemond as he added another finger, making sure to use his thumb, sweeping it against her pearl.

“I don’t want to wait-please-Aemond take me” whispered Y.N, as she wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, holding him as close as she could.

Aemond took his cock in hand, running the head along her warm wet folds, before he pressed inside her, inching forward slowly.

“So beautiful, swollen with my child” whispered Aemond.

“P-Please Aemond” whimpered Vaeda.

Aemond began to move with a slow, deep grinding. His movements deliberate and calculated.

“Gods be good,” panted Y.N.

“Fuck. You were made for me. You were made to fit my cock in this sweet cunt of yours.” breathed Aemond as he increased the pace of this thrusts.

“A-Aemond. Please.” exclaimed Y.N as she brought her hands up to his shoulders, clinging to him as his thrusts shift her up and down the bed.

Aemond makes a strangled sort of sound and lowers himself onto Y.N even more, kissing her passionately.

His hips rolling against hers, his cock thrusting in and out.

Y.N kissed him back, threading her fingers through his long silky hair, her nails scraping against his scalp, just the way he likes it.

“Mine” muttered Aemond.

Y.N could feel herself clenching around him as his cock keeps hitting the same spot inside her.

“Ooo Aemond-f-faster. P-please”

Aemond lets out a loud groan as he begins to move faster pounding into her, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing around the room.

“Aemond-Aemond-”

“You’re so fucking perfect-come-come for me” growls Aemond.

“Y-Yes., Aemond” moaned Y.N squirming, the heat shooting across her abdomen as her pleasure peaks, and she explodes, her cunt tightening around Aemond.

Aemond lets out a long low groan, his movements becoming erratic. His cock throbbing as he spills inside her.

Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena were sprawled out on the sofa in Aemond’s penthouse, waiting for any sign of their brother.

Daeron leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, a curious expression on his face. “Do you think he’s apologized yet?”

Aegon snickered, shaking his head with amusement. “If the sound of the headboard banging against the wall wasn’t enough of an indication, then our brother’s groaning sure was,” he said with a laugh, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Just then, the bedroom door creaked open, and Aemond stepped out, looking a little dishevelled.

He was shirtless, wearing only his jeans, his long silver hair was a tousled mess, and his cheeks tinged pink with exertion. Aegon immediately started snickering again, earning a scowl from Aemond.

Helaena raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh of her own. “Is Y.N. going to join us?” she asked innocently, though the amused glint in her eye didn’t go unnoticed.

Aemond rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s, uh-sleeping,” he replied, trying to sound casual.

Daeron’s eyes widened dramatically. “Sleeping? What did you do to her?”

Aegon let out a loud cackle. “Oh, I think we all heard what he did to her,” he said with a teasing grin, leaning back on the couch as if thoroughly entertained by the whole situation.

Aemond shot him a glare. “Shut up, Aegon.”

Still grinning, Aegon shrugged. “Hey, no judgment. Just, you know-it was loud.”

Aemond sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “It’s probably best if you all leave” he said, attempting to regain his composure. “Thanks for your help today, but I think we’ll have to rearrange game night-”

Helaena smiled as she stood up, gathering her things. “You’re welcome, Aemond”.

“Fine, but you’re buying the beer next game night.” Aegon quipped with a smirk as he got to his feet.

Aemond rolled his eye but nodded. “Fine, I’ll buy the beer.”

As Daeron grabbed his jacket, he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Bet Y.N. sleeps well tonight-”

Aemond shot him a final look of warning before quickly ushering all three of them toward the door.

“Out. All of you,” he commanded, though the faint smile on his lips showed he wasn’t truly angry.

As they left the penthouse, Aegon couldn’t resist one last comment, leaning back to shout, “Next time, at least soundproof the walls!”

The door slammed behind them, and Aemond leaned against it, exhaling deeply. Peace and quiet at last.

Aemond couldn't help but think that asking Y.N. to move in with him was one of the best decisions he'd ever made.

Life with her was everything he hadn't realized he'd been missing. They settled into an easy rhythm—taking turns cooking, sharing quiet evenings together, and every night, he found himself tangled in bed with her, relishing the warmth and intimacy that had quickly become second nature to them both.

What Aemond liked most, though, was watching Y.N. work. She had claimed a small corner of the penthouse, transforming it into her personal workspace.

All her materials were meticulously arranged—paints, brushes, restoration tools—and her attention to detail was astonishing. He found himself mesmerized by the faces she made when she was deep in concentration.

But more than anything, what drove him wild was as her pregnancy progressed, she often got quite warm, so she would often wear shorts and a sports bra whilst working from home.

The sight of her growing belly made him ache with desire and he spent his nights with his head between her thighs before he made love to her.

He was bursting with pride when she completed the restoration of a statue for the museum and watching her meticulously package up the finished piece, her smile radiant with accomplishment, was a memory he knew he’d never forget.

When she received an invite to the unveiling and insisted that he join her, he agreed without hesitation.

The night of the unveiling, Y.N. looked breathtaking. Her floor-length dress hugged her in all the right places, accentuating her swollen belly and ample curves. Aemond couldn’t take his eye off her the entire evening.

She was in her element, accepting praise and accolades for her work with grace and humility, glowing in the spotlight she so deserved. His heart swelled with pride every time someone came up to compliment her on the restoration.

Of course, the press had been there, snapping photos and recording every moment. It didn’t take long for the word to spread: Aemond Targaryen has not only moved on from Alys Rivers but is also expecting a child with someone new.

 He had known it was inevitable, but he thanked the gods they’d managed to keep it quiet for as long as they had.

Y.N. had handled the attention well, her smile never faltering, though Aemond could sense her relief when they finally made their way back home that night.

Now, with the unveiling behind them, his thoughts turned to their upcoming 20-week scan. He was counting down the days with barely contained excitement.

Soon, they’d find out the gender of the baby, and Aemond could finally start working on the nursery, something he’d been quietly planning in his mind for weeks.

The thought of preparing a space for their child filled him with a warmth that was both unfamiliar and exhilarating.

Aemond and Y.N. attended the 20-week scan with excitement buzzing between them. As Marie, moved the probe over Y.N.'s belly, the room filled with the rhythmic sound of their baby’s heartbeat.

Aemond held Y.N.'s hand tightly, his eye fixed on the monitor, watching in awe as their child appeared in crisp black and white. Everything looked perfect.

When Marie asked if they wanted to know the baby’s gender, Y.N. hesitated for a moment before saying, "Could you write it down and give it to Aemond?" Marie smiled knowingly and handed Aemond an envelope, now containing the secret of their baby's gender.

With the knowledge safely tucked away in his pocket, Aemond's mind quickly shifted to the nursery.

As soon as they got home, he began putting his plans into action.

He forbade Y.N. from stepping foot inside the room and told her the nursery would be a surprise. Soon after, various pieces of furniture were delivered—a cot, a changing table, and everything else they’d need.

To put everything together, Aemond enlisted the help of Aegon and Daeron, which turned into a comical disaster. As Y.N. sat in the living room, she could hear them bickering and swearing through the closed door.

At least twice, she heard Aemond threaten to kill Aegon, which was quickly followed by laughter and the unmistakable clinking of beer bottles.

The constant back and forth amused her—at least it sounded like they were having a good time.

Once the furniture was set up, she made a meal for them all, something hearty to thank them for their efforts.

 When the brothers emerged from the nursery, sweaty but satisfied, Aegon and Daeron couldn't stop smirking and elbowing each other as they watched Aemond gravitate toward Y.N.

He stood behind her, hands resting on her bump as she dished up the food, his eye soft and full of affection.

"Man, he’s totally whipped," Aegon muttered to Daeron, who snickered in agreement.

They couldn’t understand why Aemond hadn’t told Y.N. he was in love with her yet. Or even why he hadn’t asked her to officially be his girlfriend.

Aegon, never one to keep his thoughts to himself, brought it up. “So, bro,” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “what’s the deal? Why haven’t you asked Y.N. to be your girlfriend yet? You’re practically married at this point.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and at first, he ignored the question, but Aegon kept poking at him, goading him with teasing comments.

Finally, Aemond snapped, “Because I’m too scared, alright?”

His brothers went quiet, surprised by his outburst. Aemond sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his admission.

“I don’t know if she feels the same way. I don’t want to ruin what we have by saying something stupid.”

Aegon and Daeron exchanged a glance, their teasing expressions softening. Aegon, for once, was thoughtful. “You’ve got nothing to be scared of. Look at how she looks at you. I’m pretty sure she’s crazy about you.”

Daeron nodded. “And you’re going to be parents soon. You should tell her how you feel before it drives you mad.”

Aemond knew they were right, but the fear of rejection gnawed at him. What if telling her the truth upset the balance they’d found? He sighed, casting a glance toward the kitchen where Y.N. was laughing softly to herself, completely unaware of the conversation.

One day, he promised himself. One day soon.

At 30 weeks pregnant, Y.N. had been waiting anxiously to see the nursery Aemond had been working on.

He had kept her out of the room for weeks, insisting that it had to be perfect before she could see it.

But now, standing at the door, Aemond smiled and gently took her hands. “Close your eyes,” he instructed, guiding her carefully into the room.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trusting him completely as he led her forward.

Once they were inside, he took a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispered, “Open-”

Y.N.’s eyes fluttered open, and she gasped. The room was stunning. Cream and soft blue hues covered the walls, and the sunlight from the window illuminated the room in a warm, peaceful glow.

The crib stood proudly, adorned with the dragon mobile, its tiny wings gently swaying in the air. A beautifully crafted changing table was positioned nearby, and resting on it was a knitted blue blanket—Helaena’s handiwork.

“A boy-” Y.N. marvelled, her voice barely above a whisper as she admired every detail. She ran her fingers over the blanket, her heart swelling with love for the baby growing inside her.

Then her eyes caught sight of something—a sheet hanging over a section of the wall above the crib.

“What’s that for?” she asked, curiosity piqued.

Aemond stepped closer, his expression soft but a little nervous. “It’s covering the baby’s name,” he explained, watching her face carefully.

Y.N. looked at him in surprise. “But we haven’t really decided on names yet.”

Aemond smiled sheepishly. “I, uh-I kind of already chose one.”

Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but before she could say anything else, Aemond reached up and pulled the sheet away from the wall, revealing the name he had picked.

Y.N. took one look and burst into tears.

Aemond’s eyes widened in panic as he immediately wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, holding her close. “I thought—I’m sorry if I got it wrong. I can change it.”

But Y.N. shook her head, burying her face against his chest as she sobbed. “No,” she managed to say between tears, “I love it. I love it so much.”

A wave of relief washed over Aemond, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Thank the gods,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. Y.N. wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes still misty but filled with joy.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her gaze drifting back to the wall, where her grandfather’s name was painted in elegant script. “It’s not a traditional Targaryen name though”

Aemond smiled, gently wiping her tears away with his thumb. “So, we break the tradition,” he said softly, his hand resting on her bump. “It’s our choice what to name our son. Besides, we can give him a Targaryen middle name”.

Y.N. placed her hand over his, just as the baby kicked. They both smiled, feeling the life they had created together move beneath their hands.

Aemond chuckled softly. “I think he approves.”

Y.N. laughed, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “I think he does.”

Aemond looked around the nursery, a sense of satisfaction and pride in his work. “Now all that’s left is to get the pram and some clothes, and we’ll be good to go.”

Y.N. nodded, her heart full as she took in the room again, but mostly she looked at Aemond, marvelling at how lucky she was to be building a family with him.

Aemond arrived home after an exhausting day, his mind already wandering to Y.N. and the baby.

As he opened the door, his ears picked up on Y.N.'s voice, sounding almost-playful.

"No, Aegon, it's too hard," she said, a teasing edge to her tone.

Aegon groaned. "So? You love it when it’s hard."

Aemond froze, blood boiling in his veins as he heard Y.N. laugh.

"Okay, fine, let's try again, but give me some time to adjust," she responded.

Aemond saw red. Was his brother seriously fucking the mother of his child in his penthouse? Right under his nose? Whilst she was pregnant?

Rage bubbling inside him, Aemond stormed into the living room, heart pounding.

"What the hell is going on here?" he bellowed, fully prepared to murder Aegon with his bare hands.

To his surprise, he found Y.N. sitting cross-legged on the floor with a PlayStation controller in her hand.

Aegon was sprawled on the sofa beside her, also holding a controller, looking completely unbothered by Aemond's entrance.

"We're playing Mortal Kombat, genius," Aegon said with a lazy grin. "What’s got you so worked up?"

Aemond blinked, his fury deflating but still simmering beneath the surface. "What are you doing here, Aegon?" he snapped, irritation lacing his voice.

Aegon shrugged. "Y.N. called me. She was home alone, and wanted some company."

Aemond shot Y.N. a frustrated look. “You could’ve called me. I would’ve come home.”

Y.N. waved him off. “You were busy, Aemond. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Aegon smirked, clearly enjoying the tension between them. “I’ll be heading out anyway,” he said, standing up and stretching. “Got a date with Cerelle Lannister tonight. As much as I’d love to stick around and wind you up further, I’ve got better things to do.”

“Yeah, fuck off” Aemond muttered, earning a chiding look from Y.N.

“Aemond, don’t be rude,” she said, though Aegon laughed it off.

“No worries. I’m used to his mood swings by now.” He leaned over and planted an exaggerated kiss on Y.N.’s head, grinning when Aemond’s face twisted with annoyance.

“Later, you two,” he called over his shoulder, strolling out of the penthouse as if he hadn’t just wound his brother up like a toy.

The door shut with a soft click, leaving Aemond glaring after him.

"I don’t want him alone here with you," Aemond grumbled, still fuming.

Y.N. rolled her eyes and placed the controller down. “Why? It’s just Aegon.”

"You know how my brother is," Aemond said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t trust him.”

“I’m more than capable of handling Aegon," Y.N. shot back, her voice firm.

Aemond sighed. "I never said you weren’t capable. I just—" He paused, realizing how this was coming across. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I’m just trying to protect you, Y.N. That's all."

Y.N. crossed her arms, a look of mild irritation on her face. "Well, it sounds like you're doubting me."

Her moods had been unpredictable lately. One moment, she’d be happy and relaxed, the next, she was crying over something as simple as the wrong pasta brand or getting angry when he suggested healthier meals instead of her craving for fast food.

More than once, she had snapped at him to stay away, only to come to him moments later in tears, asking him to hold her or take her to bed.

As Y.N. gazed up at him from her position on the floor, Aemond braced himself, unsure of which mood she might descend into now.

But instead of another emotional outburst, she surprised him. Y.N. shifted to her knees, her eyes glinting with mischief as her fingers reached for his belt buckle.

Aemond’s breath hitched, his pulse quickening. "Y.N.," he warned, his voice low, but she silenced him with a smirk, undoing his trousers.

Next thing he knew, Y.N’s warm, wet mouth was wrapped around his soft cock.

Aemond put his hand on the back of her head as started to suck his cock and caress his balls.

Soon his cock sprang to life, and Aemond was losing his mind at the sight of her pink lips stretched around his hard length.

Y.N’s tongue ran around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Y.N!” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

Y.N ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him.

Aemond’s heart almost stopped when she sucked his stones into her mouth, one at a time.

Her hand moving slowly over the hard length of him.

When Y.N engulfed Aemond’s cock in her mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut.

Y.N was driving him crazy.

Aemond forced himself to open his eyes, he had to watch her sucking his cock. 

“Your taking me so well. Such a good girl” moaned Aemond.

Aemond knew it would push him too far to control, but he did not care. He just had to watch his cock disappear into Y.N’s mouth and see it come back out, shining with her spit.

Her head moving back and forth, her pink lips stretched around him. Oh, it was heaven.

Y.N smiled slightly and began moving faster, also using one of her hands in rhythm with her mouth. 

“It feels so good-” groaned Aemond his hand gripping her hair as he began to fuck her face.

“Hmmm” muttered Y.N as she dug her fingers into the flesh of his arse.

“I’m not going to last-if you carry on” Aemond admitted.

Y.N responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of Aemond’s cock as she could, whilst her other hand gently cupped his balls.

“Shit Y.N! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” shouted Aemond as he exploded.

She took every last drop, swallowing his seed and licking him clean.

When he recovered, Aemond saw Y.N’s self-satisfied smile.

“Was that to your liking?” asked Y.N.

“Y-Yes” gasped Aemond.

“Now can I have a Burger King?”

Aemond who was still dazed from his orgasm simply nodded. Damn that mouth of hers, he thought, his mind still reeling.

As he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, he couldn’t help but shake his head with a mixture of admiration and disbelief.

He’d come home angry, jealous, ready to fight. Now, he was standing there, utterly undone, with no memory of why he was even frustrated in the first place.

TBC

[pebblesun]

feeling forever grateful that I was in the path of totality and got to witness my two favorite celestial gfs sharing a kiss ♥

[theelvishfiddler]

AN ARTIST'S GUIDE TO HANDS

No, sorry it's actually not an artist's guide to drawing hands. Those are just warmup studies (which I'll talk about in this post.)

This is a guide to Your Hands and how to take care of them when making art.

No one ever sits down and teaches artists how to take care of their hands. They didn’t even teach me this while I was in art college. This is just what I've learned myself through years of pain and scouring the internet for advice.

This is going to be a long one and geared towards illustrative traditional/digital/pen/pencil artists specifically, but artists of other mediums and crafts should take care of their hands too! Well, we all should take care of our bodies in general, but this is about hands.

(advice is below the read more)

First off I'm not a professional or anyone with actual medical advice. I'm just some guy with chronic hand pain who makes art. This advice is free for you to use or discard.

WARMUPS!

Ever sit down in the morning to draw and wonder why your art is so stiff and looks so much worse than what you were drawing last night? It's because you didn't warm up!

You know how for physical sports they all warmup and do stretches before getting into the actual sport. To prevent injuries and all that? Yeah, it's good to do that for art too.

One way to warmup is to just draw lines. Try to keep them as straight as you can. Going up and down and diagonal. Draw squares. Big squares. Small squares. Circles! You are warming up, keep it loose and relaxed! Basically just scribble away.

(examples. I usually keep going until there is no paper white left. This can double as practice for drawing straight lines without a ruler, which is a great skill to have when freehand city drawing.)

Before hopping right into drawing people you can try doing some quick gesture drawings. Line of Action has timed sessions with a large variety of clothed or nude models. I usually do the 30 min class as it has a nice balance of short and long timed poses. The point isn't to draw nice art, but to warm up. Try to get the basic form down, not the details. I find that doing a full class session can really help my drawings feel more loose and grounded in reality for the rest of the day.

Some examples I found in my folders. I suggest looking into what a line of action (not the site) is and giving it a try with some of the studies!

COOLDOWNS!

For sports it's to return your body back to your everyday baseline after a workout.

Example; you are working on a big project! A masterpiece! It's detailed and cool! You have been focusing on this for hours and drawing so intensely. But you need to stop working for the day.

A cooldown is for winding down out of the go go go mindset. Put away the big project and do a couple small doodles and sketches. You are relaxing your hand and letting it stretch out. Keep the sketches loose. Let the art happen slowly. Don't polish anything, that can happen another day. Just ease yourself out of drawing.

...

Cool! Now we get into the meat of this thing.

HAND PAIN

How to avoid it and how to manage it if you already have it.

I love you artists and creatives, I am begging you to please take care of your most important creative tools. I really don't want this to sound like scare tactics like "oooh you better do this or blah blah!" Nope. I just had to learn all this the hard way and I'm extremely passionate about it.

Take this advice or don’t ╮(ﾟ～ﾟ;)╭ I can't tell you what to do, I'm not your dad

Adjustments and Small Solutions

If you are feeling physical discomfort while drawing there are many different solutions to try! Here are some suggestions that may or may not work for you.

Hold your pencil more loosely. Stop gripping that thang so tightly!!! Relax that hand! They make these… squishy pen grip things... I think they are called Adaptive Pencil Grips or Adaptive Writing/Drawing Aids? They stop your hand from being all cramped up by making your drawing tool wider. It's going to take a bit of time to adjust to drawing with it, but it's worth it for those who hold pencils too tightly.

Don't press as heavily. For traditional art, if you find yourself pressing really hard to get darker lines try moving to a softer pencil. Most standard pencils are HB, the B pencils have softer graphite. Experiment until you find the right one for you. For Digital, adjust your pressure settings so you don't have to press as hard to get thicker lines. You should not be pressing so hard all the time, it wears out both your hand and your tablet! It takes a bit of time to adapt to pencil or pressure changes. Try doing some unimportant sketches, they don't have to be good. You are just training your hand and mind to adjust using less pressure.

Draw with your arm and not your wrist! It's small repetitive motions that cause the most strain. You probably hear this one a lot, what does it even mean? It means moving your arm with the motions of your line, and trying not to make too many tiny movements with your just your fingers or wrist. This one is hard! It takes time and conscious thought to change the habit. Tips? Work bigger. Zoom in more. Use bigger sheets of paper.

(Motions exaggerated for a clearer example)

Change the angle of your drawing surface. They make angled tablet holders, angled desks, angled desktop raisers. Experiment, find and angle that is comfortable and the one that causes the least pain. (It's also good to make sure you don't have to hold your head at an uncomfortable angle when drawing. Staring straight down or hunching over a paper flat on the table can cause pain!)

Compression Glove? Wrist brace/tensioners? Some folks use them and I've been thinking of getting one for years now. I can't give advice on this one, because I don't have experience with it. Look into it if you want!

Managing Pain

First things first.

IF YOUR HANDS START TO HURT WHILE YOU ARE DRAWING. STOP! Put the pencil/pen/paintbrush/whatever down. The art will still be there for you to continue tomorrow.

I know from experience that it's extremely hard to pull away when you are hyper focused on an art piece. It's hard to remember all sorts of basic needs like food or bathroom when hyper focused. But you Need to stop when you feel that pain. (Preferably even before the pain…)

Take Breaks! Let your hands rest when you can. Just like a machine, if you don't schedule maintenance, the machine will schedule maintenance for you. Often that means having to wait a few days for it to return to functional. Best to take a day off from heavy usage or take an occasional 30 min break throughout the day to let your hands rest.

Stretching is important! Full body stretches are good; your arms, shoulders, neck, and spine are all connected, but I'm specifically talking about HAND and wrist stretching. There are a lot of stretches and massages for carpal tunnel and arthritis out there. I find they work for hand pain in general. Move into and out of each stretch slowly. Do not push a stretch if it hurts!! Be gentle!!

I am not a qualified professional and I will not be giving out specific stretches (that is beyond my personal comfort level). There are other artists out there who have made helpful stretching info-graphics which are cool, but I will not be because i don't want to be responsible for someone accidentally hurting themself. Ask your doctor for stretches & advice or look some up on your own.

Don't feel bad about forgetting to stretch frequently! Of course it is good to do it regularly and frequently, but I would be a hypocrite if I said that I remember to stretch daily. Setting timers for stop and stretch sessions can work for some people, but also doing stretches whenever you remember is fine! If you are sitting on the toilet you can idly do some hand stretches. On the bus? Laying in bed? At the beach? Do a couple stretches! Even just once a week is better than… nonce a week.

Using Cold or Heat to treat pain. If you really overdid it, put your hands in some cold water or wrap a cloth around an ice pack and apply it to your hand. Cold works best for me, but warmth works for others. This is just pain reduction and reducing inflammation from overuse! This is not a permanent solution.

If your hand hurts a lot! Frequently! Talk to your doctor? Idk mine has never given real advice. Just gently poked my hand and told me there isn't much to be done about it :/ but there are really good doctors out there who will care and give helpful advice!

Again. IF IT HURTS TO CONTINUE DRAWING. STOP DRAWING! This is not a "no pain no gain" type situation. Drawing so much that you hurt yourself isn't noble, it's just… limiting yourself. You only get one set of hands. These things are very handy to have.

Other Advice

Things I couldn't figure out how to fit into the earlier sections.

Your other hand can't handle the strain! Lets say you hurt your drawing hand... the other hand is right there free to use for art. Right? Wrong. Your other hand can't keep up with the demand, it hasn't been trained to the same extent as your dominant hand, it does not have the built up muscle. If you want to use that hand for drawing you are going to have to use it s l o w l y and train it bit by bit over a long period of time. When I tore a tendon in my right hand I decided to just keep drawing with my left and I got Really Good at it. It only took like two months before my left hand hurt too much to move. Then I had 0 functioning hands to pull up my pants. Not fun!!

People who draw on phones. That is extremely impressive! I'm amazed by the things people can create on such a small space. But phone artists are the ones I see most frequently mentioning hand pain. please please please make sure you are taking breaks. Would a stylus work instead of using a finger?

Outside of Drawing. Sometimes it's things outside of drawing that are causing the pain. For me there are multiple sources, but I also have tiny baby hands. Holding a phone too long causes pain. The handheld mode for my Switch causes A Lot of pain. The way my hand rests while typing on my laptop hurts! Playing tense videogames for too long hurts! Find the source of your pain and make some changes. The same things will apply to most; take regular breaks, do some stretches, and find soft things to prop up or rest your arms on.

Change your Artstyle. This one is more of a last resort. You might have to change your art style if you are getting sharp pains every time you draw. I loved drawing tight clean lines and many small fancy details, but drawing like that left me in so much pain at the end of the day. In 2023 I had to take the better part of year off from illustrations just to learn how to sketch and draw more loosely. I had to learn how to be gentle. To stop gripping my pencil so tightly. Learn! Adapt! You might discover a new style that you love even more!

A lot of this stuff gets more complicated in a work setting where you have to draw fast and long in order to get paid. Things like reducing your workload can help, but that can be... financially rough. But outside of that, it’s ok to be a slow artist. Going full steam and hurting yourself is not worth it.

Aaaaaanyway, thats all folks. Today's rant brought to you by me! The guy with chronic hand pain who always forgets to stretch! The guy who got frustrated with a sketch yesterday and decided to push to keep drawing for just one more hour! The guy who woke up this morning and had to spend 2 hours massaging and stretching their hands. The guy who probably shouldn't have typed all of this out because ooww ow ouch

If your hands do hurt, it's going to be ok! You don't need to be a speed demon who draws all the time. It's ok to take your time and take frequent breaks. You are going to do great things! Just be gentle with yourself...

[honeysmoonn]

just the sweetest thought of drawing on luke’s back…

warnings: use of y/n once, barley any dialogue, flufffff

a/n: oh lord… this was meant to be very short but i got carried away😭i hope to improve my writing skills in the near future! pls lmk how you feel abt this and pls pls sent requests!!!

sneaking out past curfew was against camp rules, everyone knew this. but luke was a counselor, couldn’t he get a free pass to see his girlfriend? you and him thought yes. there were countless nights the two of you had either snuck out to sit by the lake or venture to each others cabin for the night just to have to sneak out early the next morning.

of course, all this sneaking around had its moments of regret. once you had comfortably situated yourself beside luke when a kid woke up claiming she had a headache. in the dim lighting of the cabin at night all she could see was the unfamiliar silhouette of a woman in luke’s bed. she let out a scream, calling for luke, claiming there was a “scary lady” in his bed only to find luke laying next to said scary lady. the two of you tried your best to keep her from waking the others, but it was too late. the once calm hermes cabin was bustling with fearful campers. you were quick to jump out of the bed and assured everyone that you were not there to hurt them, the girl raised an eyebrow at you.

it was unfortunate, but you and luke were forced to reveal your secret to the hermes children. on the bright side, neither of you had to worry about someone seeing you now.

tonight, you drug you slippered feet over the dirt path leading to the hermes cabin wearing a sweatshirt that wasn’t your own snd that smelt like campfire smoke and wood. it was a size too big for your frame, but like has left it over in your cabin too many times to be an accident so you decided to keep it.

everyone was already sleeping, everyone but luke. he sat on his bed impatiently waiting for you to show up. it had become second nature to the two of you, and luke could barley lay down without the comfort of you beside him. his ears had become ultra sensitive to any sounds, waiting to hear the familiar gentle knock on the window closest to his bed; yet the only noise was the soft snoring or the rustling of bedsheets from the other hermes children sleeping soundly.

his hands found their way to a battered and bruised notebook sitting on his bedside table. you, apollos daughter, the artist, had left your notebook in luke’s room once again. to you, it was a simple and annoying show of your own forgetfulness. but to luke it was so much more. at lunch in the mess hall you would often sketch, but you didn’t let anyone see it. to be honest, luke did really want to see what you were up to all this time but he respected your decision for privacy. but this, your notebook in his room meant (at least to him) that you trusted him. and that’s what mattered most to him.

a short and simple sound of three knocks on the glass window made luke immediately jump up. your figure stood outside the window and his face got red and hot upon seeing his big hoodie over your body. his hands move almost like clockwork as they unlock the window and slide it up, taking a moment to look down at you. you smiling up at him, you who already knows what he’s about to say.

“the doors unlocked, y’know.” he says in a hushed tone as his hand reached out to you. “always is for you.”

you smiled up at him, taking his and in yours. “i know,” once inside luke didn’t waste anytime before pulling you into his strong and comfortable embrace.

“i missed you.” he mumbled into your hair, pressing ghosts of kisses against your skin. his delicate hands expertly traveled down your body to rest on your waist. “i’m literally like, crazy for you, girl.” in between his words like couldn’t stop pressing kisses to your forehead as he pulled you down to the mattress.

a muffled groan came from only one bunk down, causing you to stifle your breaths. luke’s love struck eyes looked up at you as he situated himself on top of the thin sheets. “i’m crazy for you, too.” you pressed a kiss onto the space where his skin and think shirt met, a silent gesture that luke immediately followed up to, peeling the material from his body.

even after months of dating luke still fell victim to the way your eyes graced his body. he felt as if he was one of the gods the children at camp worshipped from the way you kissed all the right spots and told him all the right things. son of theives, and yet you were still the one who stole his heart.

luke went to lay on his stomach, the way he always did with you. but instead of you under him, he frowned when you didn’t lay next to him. “baby,” he whined in a sleepy voice and you felt your heart flutter.

“you trust me, right?” you fingers gently traces the muscles around his shoulders. truth be told, luke trusted you with his life. if the world was crumbling to the ground you would be the one luke would run to. the stars could fall from the sky at any moment and luke would grab them and give them to you. if he had the power, he would make you a goddess. he trusted you to be a better immortal than any of them ever had.

he nodded. “of course, always.”

you hummed a soft response. luke wanted to stay awake, he wanted to see what you had in store for him, but with sleep threatening to plague his mind and the comforting feeling of you sitting on his back was enough to knock him out for the night.

there was no such thing as sleeping in while living in the hermes cabin, so luke rose as the sun did. not to his surprise, you had slipped out the door before he could kiss you good night.

if it weren’t for chirons glares or the endless jokes from the hermes kids and your half-siblings, you would spend every night with luke, really.

and yet this morning luke woke up to the right side of his bed empty and a post it note stuck to his forehead. the yellow paper read: “you fell asleep before i left, see you tomorrow xoxo” reading it made luke feel weak with admiration, he carefully folded up the paper and slid it into his pillowcase.

sun shone through the tallest tree tops down onto camp half blood as the early risers began to scatter themselves across camp, participating in multiple activities. the weekend were always dullers, yet far more calm then the usual routine of the regular week. one of the preferred activities for some of the older campers was the occasional weekend getaway to the lake. there was a secluded lake clearing just a small walk off from the path, hidden deep in the woods; but the older ones liked to take their own days off, basking in the sand or wading in the cool water.

today, both you and luke had been invited by clarisse to spend the day together at the clearing. you obviously agreed, and you spent the whole morning packing a day backpack for yourself and luke, filled with water bottles and snacks and towels, not forgetting luke’s favorite bikini of yours wore under your camp shirt and cutoff denim shorts.

just before the clock struck 9am, luke found himself waiting for you to finish doing your hair before heading out for the day. “i dunno,” you continued you rambling to your boyfriend as he admired you through the mirror. “maybe sword fighting isn’t for everyone. especially not me, i mean, archery i can do. hand to hand, yeah sure. but sword fighting.” after making sure your hair was suitable for swimming and sitting in the sun all day you turned to luke, who looked at you as if you had just graced him with the blessing of the sun.

“i think your good.” he shrugged, picking up your backpack and slinging it over his shoulder, his hand locking with yours out of instinct as you began to walk.

you shoved his shoulder playfully. “you’re my boyfriend, you have to say that.” he sent you a grin back.

the walk to the clearing was peaceful. birds singing to each other while butterflies told secrets to the flowers. as you got closer you could already hear the joyful sound of your friends laughing and already playing in the water.

walking out of the forest onto the rocky ground you and luke were immediately greeted by chris, dean, and clarisse with smiles and laughter. while you hugged your friends hello luke took the liberty of taking your light yellow beach towel and lay it out for you for later. of course, he knew you better than you knew yourself, and he knew that right after you exited the cool and refreshing water your body would shiver and he would be the one to wrap you in his arms to warm you up.

leaving your tee shirt and shorts of the rocks you patiently waited for luke to do the same. he made a silly face then shed the layer of cloth covering his chest.

much to his surprise, chris and dean burst out into laughter. luke’s brow furrowed. “what?” he looked to you for reassurance, and you just smiled.

“i think you got a little something on your back, luke.” chris snickered while clarisse shoved him roughly, that shut him up. luke craned his neck, trying to see what was on him.

you grabbed his shoulders and turned his back to you. his skin was tan from the summer sun, but on top of that was an array of doodles and drawings that covered him from his shoulders to lower back. his muscled back was now delicately traced over with by flowers and stars. the sun and moon kissing each other good night. in your mind it had been you and luke.

luckily, your friend blair came equipped with her own digital camera. “oh! y/n, luke, smile!” she exclaimed. you smiled at the camera with a hand on luke’s shoulder, his back was to the camera but the tattoos decorating his skin were radiant in the sunlight leaking through the trees. it hadn’t been your intention to draw on luke’s back, but once you started you couldn’t stop, artistic mind letting all your emotions fade onto luke’s shoulders and spine. you drew you and him as flowers, as trees, as stars. there was always an invisible string tying the two of you together throughout every universe, every life time.

blair was convincing enough to have chiron to let her print the photos from that day at the clearing. she gifted you and luke the best photo of you posing next to your art, luke’s hand in yours and you grinned happily. after spending another night in luke’s bed, you left the photo on his nightstand.

he hung the photo on his wall next to his pillow to remind him of not only how talented you were, but how much you loved him, to be able to grace him with your talent.

[phone4pills]

sub!Matt x popular!Reader

p in v, riding, dominant reader, submissive Matt, cheating, smut, use of y/n, suggestive, longgg

———————————————————————————————

“Yes, y/n, I gave you a D. If you want to pass any of your finals this year, I suggest you get yourself some help.” The teacher told you while the last few students left the classroom. You didn’t know what to do, your grades were slipping and your parents warned you not to let that happen.

When it came to school, you weren’t the brightest. But that didn’t matter to you an awful lot because you were popular. However, as of recent, it seems that your grades were dropping below average. It was getting closer to the end of the school year and you really needed to bump up your score to at least a B.

Your Dad was too busy running a million dollar business while your mother traveled the world. And your boyfriend wasn’t the smartest either. He was only at high school for sports.

All in all, you had no idea what to do.

Your boyfriend threw an arm around your shoulder. He could tell you weren’t really eating. “Sup, sweet?” He looked down at you, ruffling your hair a little. You swatted his hand away. “Nothing, just mad at my teacher.” You huffed.

He tutted, taking your fork and picking up a piece of pasta, flying it in loops towards your face. But you shook your head, not feeling like eating. He shrugged. “Don’t mind if I do.” And the fork switched directions towards his mouth, he hummed slightly at the taste of your food. Not surprising considering the boy would eat anything.

“Look, I know you want better grades. I don’t know why… but I have a brother in the year below. ’s a real geek. I’m sure he’d help ya out if I told him to.”

You immediately shook your head, your mind spiralling at the thought of having a junior practically tutoring you. But your boyfriend argued. “Well if you wanna whine about it you must be desperate. Just do it, I’m tired of your sulking.” You released a heavy sigh. Maybe you could give this junior one chance. At this point you had to take any help you could get.

“Hey, sweet.” Your boyfriend opened the door to his house, his mum wandered into the room. She had a smile on her face. You two greeted each other and you were led upstairs towards his brother’s room.

Once the two of you were stood in front of the door, your boyfriend opened it to reveal the boy sketching away at his deck. He turned his head quickly when he heard the door open, shooting a surprised glare at his brother. “I told you to knock.” He half-shouted, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“I told you not talk to me like that!” Your boyfriend retorted angrily. The boy in the room lowered his head, playing with his pencil. He was cute. Nervous, but in a different way. In an innocent, likeable way.

You let go off your boyfriend’s arm. “It’s okay, babe. You should get back to whatever you were doing.”

He left with a quick kiss, his brother stood up and gave you a little wave. “I’m Matt. You’re uh… y/n right?” You gave him a nod and the two of you got to studying.

“Yeah so just convert it into a fraction if you wanna make dividing easier.” Matt said as you stared at the squared paper. You reached to your left to grab your pen without looking, but you found that your hand landed on something completely different.

Matt’s dick.

Your fingers quickly flew off the spot, your face forming a look of shock. “Oh my goodness I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-” The boy waved his hands, assuring you that it was fine but you could tell it wasn’t. His cheeks turned feverishly red and his eyes darted all around the room as he bit down on his bottom lip.

As you continued to study, Matt’s words became more and more unclear with each stutter. His hand was far too sweaty to hold his pencil correctly and every number he wrote in your book could easily resemble a hieroglyph.

Your eyes flitted down to where your hand landed accidentally. A very apparent bulge was growing in his trousers. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. You sighed and turned towards Matt. “Look we don’t have to finish this today. Unless… maybe you want some help relieving that stress.”

“What do you mean?” Matt says, leaning closer to you so your faces were aligned, meet inches between them. “I believe you’re cute… and smart and helpful and I think maybe I could help you.” You didn’t know what he was going to say. You knew he was shy and probably just wanted to study. But you had to try. You had to make sure he knew what you thought.

Before you could say something else, his lips found yours in a deep kiss, knocking the breath out of you. You reciprocated the gestures, your hands finding the fly of his jeans. He groaned into your mouth, sending warm ripples of his submission down your throat.

You slowly pulled down his lower half of garments, fingers tracing the base of his cock that was pressed up against his stomach as he moaned. Matt pulled his head away throwing it back with a hiss when your finger caressed his pink tip, already leaking with small streams of his arousal.

“N-need… need you, please.” He whined quietly. His fingers tugged at the hem of your skirt for a second before his hand slid up your thigh to grab hold of your underwear. You played with his hair innocently, but your mind was slowly flooding with thoughts that were far from purity. “Help me get ‘em off, can you do that?”

He nodded quickly and pulled your underwear off, throwing them to the side. You straddled him, resting a knee on either side of his hips, slowly sinking down on his dick.

“F-fuck!” He whined, head falling into the crook of your neck. The grip of his hands on you waist was similar to that of a brick to cement. Only becoming more and more distinguishable when you began to ride him, basking in the feeling of his teeth in your skin,mapping every vein and ridge on his length that was deep inside of you.

“You like that, Matty? D’ya like it?”

He nodded into your shoulder so his ruffled hairs tickled your neck. But you weren’t satisfied. You wanted to hear him. You wanted to fall focus of his beautiful yet so dirty noises. He was like your personal fallen angel, unable to contain the sinful ideas on his mind. “Say it, Matt. Tell me how much you like it.”

A broken, horse groan escaped his throat. “I love it- mmh, I want more…”

Every bounce on his cock pushed Matt further and further over the edge. His hands grasped shamelessly at the roots of you hair, tugging and clutching in a hope to ground himself during the unhealthy high he was experiencing. His mouth dried up with each slap of your ass on his thighs. Your walls sucked him in, warming and pleasing every inch of what he had to give as his tip hit against your cervix like a hammer on a nail.

Within minutes his head flailed flat on your shoulder, eyes rolling back as he drooled onto the sleeve of your sweater. You felt the hot load of cum fill up your insides, warm trickles gracing your walls.

You pulled off him, cupping his face gently. His lips were slobbered in saliva and he could barely make eye contact. He didn’t know he wanted another round until your hand wrapped around his dick, thumb rubbing his bright pink tip before you palmed away at his throbbing girth. With this, he thrusted his pelvis upwards into your arousing touch.

Your fingers hastened their way up and down his so very sensitive length, causing his head to fall back and his eyes to litter tears down his blushing cheeks. Matt’s mouth hung wide open but no noises escaped. All that came out was a long train of radical breaths. You enjoyed watching him weaken under your touch, teeth eventually gritting down on the pencil in his mouth to try to remain quiet. He may have been tutoring you but you certainly jerked him dumb. “Thaaat’s right, bite your pencil Matt.”

When Matt felt the knot in his stomach pull apart, he hissed, lifting his head back up, only for it to fall forward so his chin dug into his collarbone. His second release shot out of his cock violently, coating your hand in strings of white slick. You sucked the warm, slightly sour liquid off your fingers before leaning closer to lick the rest off his crotch.

His bloodshot eyes watched in awe as you cleaned him up and when you were done you put your underwear back on while he sat frozen on the bed, eyes wide.

Then the two of you heard footsteps getting closer and closer. Matt quickly pulled up his boxers and jeans, re-zipping his fly and wiping his eyes afterwards. You grabbed your books and held them close to your chest, taking your seat on the bed and good metre away from him.

Then you leaned in for a second to fix his glasses. His eyes found yours in an entrancing gaze, which you only broke when the door opened. Your boyfriend walked into the room.

“How’s it going, sweet?” He pondered, leaning on the wall. You stood up, making your way towards him. “All good, Matt just finished.” You glanced back at him for a split second, his head hung low, eyes tracing the floorboards as he picked at his fingernails like he did when you first walked in.

“Cool, want me to walk you home?” The boy pushed himself off the wall, sneaking an arm around your waist. You nodded, giving him the go to lead you towards the door.

Right before you left the doorway, you spun your head back to find Matt staring at you. You gave him a wink and advanced down the hallway.

He sat with his head in his hands, fingers twirling the ends of his hair as he heard your voice get quieter and quieter. “Lemme go to the restroom first, babe. I’ll meet you at the door.” He heard you say.

Your boyfriend walked down the stairs as you pivoted back towards Matt’s room. When you walked in, you instantly caught his lips in a passionate kiss, sending cascades of lighting through each of his nerves as you pushed him down on the bed. Then you pulled away.

“Your glasses are cute by the way.” You whispered, leaving a stained kiss on one of his frames, before making your way to the restroom.

And when you were done in there you walked down the stairs and waving a quick goodbye to your boyfriend’s mom, and the two of you left the house.

Hey you guys! This one took a while so I’m glad you read it, this isn’t my only sub!Matt piece of work, @dykes4chris would know. You can find more in my masterlist. Until next time!!

-phone4pills

[sp1d3rzz]

PLS DO MORE PERVERT!MIDORIYA 🙏🙏

Pervert!Midoryia

pt.2

pt.1 here

WARNING !! : Pervy drawings and fantasized descriptions, and mention of a boner. Let me know if I missed anything.

Summary : Bullying Midoriya was meant for fun, purely to keep you entertained. That is until he begins to fantasize about your actions.

A/N : Thank u so much for the req anon (о´∀`о) Keep sending in requests my loves !

It's horrible of him, and he knows that. To obsess and fetish over the one thing in his life that keeps him on a constant edge. His bully.

When you first began to pick on Midoriya, he figures that he'll just keep a safe distance. He doesn't bother you, and you don't bother him.

But once it becomes a daily game of cat and mouse, he realizes there must really be no escape to this. And he especially realizes that when he begins to fantasize about all you do to him.

The way his name sounds coming out of your mouth gets him hot all over. Immediate goosebumps that become easily noticeable if you pay attention.

Or when you throw an insult at him to hurt his feelings and ruin his self esteem, but it only gives him a boner because he likes the feeling of you putting him where he belongs.

You don't even notice till the day you snag his journal.

"What's the deal with this notebook of yours, huh?" your arms reach over from behind him and snatch the burnt, rusted notebook. You can tell he's had this for awhile.

Caught off guard, he quick fwips! around to grab it back. "Wait! Don't-" his face falls when he sees the spine bend open as your eyes scan over a page.

His cheeks gets red to the point his freckles are barely visible, and he scrambles to stand from his seat and take back his journal.

Though you quickly stop him with a hand to his chest to push him back down. "So defensive." You huff with a shake of your head.

You flip through a couple more pages as Midoriya stares at you in horror. He really hopes you dont get to the one page, he'd die if anyone were to see it.

His heart is racing, and his hands are trembling, anxious to know what you might do. Maybe you'll throw his book away? Maybe slap him and tell the whole class about his dirty secret?

The world is against him, because as soon as he thinks that, he sees your grin curve into a face of disgust.

Your eyes widen as you now go over every page more carefully, taking your time to actually analyze it. And he swears he's going to dig his own grave if you continue.

But when you slowly close the journal, and clear your throat with a flushed face, he gets confused. Why aren't you mad at him?

"Dork.." you mumble before shoving the notebook into his face and walking away.

Your friends follow behind you, asking why you let him off so easy this time. Though a small, 'felt nice today' leaves your lips so they quit pestering you.

But what they don't know is how Midoriya has written pages and pages all filled with you and your information. From the sketches of you when you don't notice he's there, to anatomy practice of your naked body he had imagined.

The top to bottom pages filled with filthy theories on what you might taste like, how you prefer sex, and the toys you may use.

The most noticeable thing was a drawing of you at an angle behind his head. Mouth agape with eyes teary and stained with mascara. He had you on his lap, green hair tangled from your hand clenching it.

One things for sure, you'll never see that nerd the same again.

[permanentswaps]

Breaking Eric’s Trust Pt. 2

Read Part 1, written by vice versa swaps, here.

Will:

After the swap, we walked back through the parking lot and Bryce drove me back to my new home. My new body was much leaner than I was used to, making me feel a bit disoriented as I walked through the door. But I couldn't deny the appeal of Bryce’s youthful a physique – even if it was very different from the heavy muscles I'd worked for decades to build on my own body.

Entering Bryce’s room, I took in the surroundings and decided to try my hand at some sketches.

"Let’s see if this really improves my art skills," I thought to myself.

I quickly found myself engrossed in the creative process, a feeling I'd been craving to get back to. As the sketches took shape, I couldn't help but admire the dexterity of my new hands.

Distracted, I gently traced my fingertips along the veins of my opposite hand. Slowly I traced up my forearm and to my bicep, which I flexed. I then moved my hand over to my muscular chest and grazing my new sensitive nipples. I raised my arm to flex in the mirror and thought to myself “This body may not be as strong as mine, but it’s hot as fuck. Why would Bryce ever want to give this up.”

Hot and bothered, I retreated to the bathroom where I stepped into the hot shower. Felling the hot water falling across my back, I lowered my right hand to my cock while feeling my muscles with my left.

“I’m so fucking sexy. I’m so fucking sexy.” I growled to myself, before eventually cumming across the shower wall. As I came down from climax, I shook off the thought, reminding myself I’m only borrowing this body.

Just as I finished up in the bathroom, my phone rang – it was Eric, asking to hang out. When Eric arrived, I greeted him with a smile, trying to act casual.

"Hey, Eric! What's up, man?" I, now in Bryce's body, said, attempting to sound as natural as possible.

"Not much, man! Just figured I'd swing by and see what you're up to," Eric replied.

I chuckled, "Oh, not much. Wanna play some Call of Duty?"

The two of us settled into the gaming setup, controllers in hand. As we played, I couldn't help but marvel at the experience of hanging out with my son from a different perspective.

In the midst of the gaming session, I saw this as my opportunity to ask about things I wouldn’t normally know about.

"How are you feeling about going away to school?" I asked, trying to keep the question casual.

"A bit nervous, but I’m mostly excited and ready to get out of the house – date some hot girls. I am worried about my dad though; it's gonna be tough for him to be alone like this, I think," Eric replied.

I felt a twinge of sadness at Eric's response but turned my focus back to the game.

Changing the topic, Eric asked, "How about you, how are you feeling about the gap year?"

I hesitated for a moment, then replied, "I'm not sure if it was the right choice, to be honest."

"Well, at least in a year, you'll still be off to college. Then, we’ll be able to hang all the time and you'll have your pick of all the guys there," Eric said with a playful grin.

I smirked to myself, "Yeah, that'll be great," before indulging in a brief fantasy about what it would be like to live Bryce’s life in college instead of just here at home.

Bryce

A week had passed since we visited the lab, and Mr. Sullivan and I had gotten surprisingly good at mimicking each other's mannerisms and habits. As we were packing up the car to move Eric up to campus, he casually asked, “Would it be alright if Bryce came with us to drop me off?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I responded, happy to not let Mr. Sullivan miss out on this big moment.

The three of us drove up to campus together, joking and listening to music the whole way. We grabbed a quick bite to eat before walking around the campus and bidding an emotional farewell. Mr. Sullivan, in my body, teared up a bit, to which Eric laughed and said, "Don't worry, dude. I'll FaceTime you all the time," before playfully punching his shoulder.

As we climbed back into the car to drive home, I realized this was the first time Mr. Sullivan and I had been alone together since the swap.

"How are you doing?" I asked, glancing at him.

"Alright, I guess. I'm just really going to miss him," Mr. Sullivan responded, a hint of melancholy in his voice. "The other night we were hanging out, and he told me he was worried about me, or you now, I guess. He thought I’d be lonely without him, and damn, I think he’s right."

"Oh, really? I'm sorry to hear that. But at least you know he cares," I said, attempting to offer some consolation.

"Yeah, I guess," he sighed.

"And hey, you've still got me," I added playfully, reaching over to place my thick, callused hand on his thigh. I gripped the steering wheel with the other hand, feeling the warmth radiating from him. It was clear he was blushing, and I couldn't help but smirk.

We pull into the driveway and stumble into the house. I pinned him up against the wall in multiple spots, and we shredded our clothes as we went. I was enjoying the virility of this body – I was strong before, but never like this.

Tossing my former body onto the bed, I asked, “What do you want me to do to you.”

Looking up and biting his lip submissively, Mr. Sullivan asked, “You know the other day at the lab when I said, ‘you can do whatever you want with my body when you’re in it.’” I nodded. “I really meant anything,” he said.

After loosening him up with my fingers, I rolled on a condom and began to slide myself into my former body’s tight hole. It had been a while since I had taken anything this big, and I could feel the tightness around my new cock. Yet, something wasn’t cutting it.

After a few minutes of fucking, I growled “Daddy wants to feel all of you, I hope you like it raw,” growled before taking off the condom and sliding back in. The ecstasy was almost too much to handle and we climaxed together shortly thereafter.

The next morning, I woke up in bed, feeling the warmth of sunlight filtering through the blinds. Stretching and yawning, I rubbed my face, the rough texture of a beard grazing my palms. Glancing to the other side of the bed, I saw Mr. Sullivan in my body still peacefully asleep.

As great as last night was, a slight twinge of remorse tugged at my emotions. The idea of betraying Eric's trust weighed heavily on my conscience.

Deciding to focus on the present, I smiled softly before leaning over and gently kissing Mr. Sullivan on the cheek just like he had done at the swap labs before we had exchanged bodies. As Mr. Sullivan stirred awake, I greeted Mr. Sullivan with a warm smile.

"Good morning," I said, still getting used to a deeper voice. "Sleep well?"

Mr. Sullivan rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Yeah, surprisingly well. This body of yours is quite comfortable."

I chuckled, "Glad to hear it,” before diving back in to start round two.

A few months later

Over the course of the fall, Bryce (we’d begun to refer to each other using our former names) and I navigated the complexities of each other's. I was pretty successful in fighting my lonely streak, having met a lot of new friends at the gym and through my new local softball league.

Meanwhile Bryce was also working out like crazy and had flourished in his artistic pursuits, getting admitted to an art fellowship program that he could do for the rest of his gap year.

Hidden from prying eyes, our secret relationship also continued to thrive. Even though we didn’t tell Eric, he still clocked the positive change. A few weeks ago, during a Facetime call after a particularly enjoyable afternoon session with Bryce, he teased, "Wow, Dad, you're looking great. Honestly glowing... what … or who … have you been getting up to?" I laughed it off in the moment, but as time dragged on the weight of lying to Eric grew heavier on my conscience.

Finally, it was now the day before Thanksgiving break, meaning that Eric will be home tomorrow for the first time since we dropped him off. While Bryce had been up to visit him a couple of times, I still hadn’t seen him in person for months.

I invited Bryce over to the house, ready to figure out what to do. We laid together on the bed. I sat leaning against the headboard and some pillows and his head rested gently on my bare chest.  

"I gotta level with you, Bryce. I'm feeling really guilty,” I said, using my thick fingers to stroke Bryce’s torso through his halfway unbuttoned shirt. “I'm not sure I can keep up this lie to Eric much longer," I confessed.

Will, his expression thoughtful, suggested, "Well what if we just came clean to him now?"

"No, if we did that, I don't think he'd ever trust either of us ever again," I replied.

"We could swap back now," he proposed tentatively, a look of disappointment flickering across his face.

Pulling his lean body in closer to mine, I smirked. Nibbling on ear I said in a raspy whisper, "You wear that ass way better than I ever did, no way in hell am I going to make you give it up."

He looked at me, blushing, and I continued, "No, as much as it kills me, I think we need to end our relationship."

Will nodded, another look of disappointment flashing across his face before he replied, “Alright Will, if that’s what you really think is best.”

“But before we do, I need to feel my tight ass one last time,” I growled.

I got up and moved to his side before finishing unbuttoning his shirt. Then, gently running my hands from his torso around to his lower back, I motioned to take of his pants and briefs.

As I ate out his ass, I could feel my beard scratching against his smooth cheeks. Once he was loose, I got on my knees, raised his legs over my shoulders, and slid my raw cock into his tight hole.

After what feels like hours of fucking in every position imaginable, he’s finally riding on top.

Throwing his head back in ecstasy at me he moans to himself, “Oh fuck yeah. Fuck yeah. This body is so fucking hot.” Feeling himself up, he continues, “This is all mine. I deserve this. I am such a fucking hot hunk.”

I look up at him, a twinge of nostalgic regret washes over me. But as quickly as that feeling arrives, Bryce looks down at me and says, “Oh yeah, and it’s all thanks to you Will.” A naughty smirk crossing his face he continues, “Tell me how much you want me.”

Picking up the pace of my upward strokes I grunt, “Fuck yeah Bryce, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Fuck right I am, say my name again” he yells back.

“Unghhh Bryyyyceeeee,” I moan. “Take that dick, Bryce,” I grunt, grabbing his cock.

He leans over moaning, “Oh fuck yeah Daddy, I’m cumming” before kissing me and gently stroking my sensitive nipples.

That is enough to send me over the edge, coating his insides with my seed as we cum simultaneously.

Basking in the afterglow, I feel my meat still throbbing deep inside him.  “Well even if we can’t be together, I still hope we can do that every once in a while,” he said, continuing to feel up my sweaty, muscular torso.

Biting my lip, I reply, “I don’t see why not.”

[cacodaemonia]

I've had this in my drafts for months, and I just saw a post complaining about fan artists (while having the nerve to start out with, "I love fan artists so much but...") who draw characters this way or don't draw them that way, so I figured it was about time to share this.

You know that unwritten rule in fandom that says you shouldn't demand that fic writers cater to your tastes? "Don't like, don't read"? Here's a reminder that the same goes for fanart.

Sometimes, I see complaints that fan artists don't draw character A exactly how they look in canon/in a particular slice of canon/according to someone's specific headcanons. Sometimes, I see complaints that character A is being depicted, say, without enough body hair, or with the wrong body type, or as a different age than they appear in canon.

If you find yourself getting upset with fan artists over things like this, I hope you'll take a moment to:

mind your own business

consider how fucking hard art is

I think a lot of people who haven't spent time in the art trenches have absolutely no clue how difficult it can be to draw a human, period—let alone human features you haven't already practiced a million times.

This can be especially true for artists who don't have a lot of drawing experience. When I was a kid, I mostly drew women, so learning to draw more typically masculine features was a challenge, and it took me many years to even get okay at it. It takes a lot of practice to figure out how to draw a variety of facial structures, body types, hair styles, ages, etc.

For a example, I have never known an artist who doesn't think drawing children is a bitch and a half, and wrinkle placement can mean the difference between drawing something that looks like an elderly human versus a shriveled apple.

Simply drawing body hair can be very time consuming. You also have to understand hair growth patterns and direction and take into account if the person's body hair is very curly or more straight, etc. If I just want to do a really quick sketch, maybe I don't feel like spending 10-20 minutes adding body hair. Maybe some people don't like body hair so they don't want to draw it. Maybe some people have carpal tunnel syndrome or medial epicondylitis and the extremely repetitive motion of adding body hair to characters is physically painful. You don't know. And it's not your place to tell them they're wrong.

Fanart, just like fanfiction, is about drawing the things we like—NOT catering to what other people want or think we should be making.

So feel free to talk about how much you love it when fan artists draw characters in ways you like! But don't be a jerk by demanding people draw what you want, and don't put down those who don't cater to you. You can have all the personal preferences you want in fanart, but it's rude and entitled to force those preferences on others fans or act like you're a better person because of your tastes in the appearances of fictional characters.

[reminiscingtonight]

Three's Not A Crowd

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

[WOSO Masterlist]

It was an accident. 

If confronted about it Ingrid will vehemently deny snooping.

Because she wasn’t. In any way. 

It all began with a simple tidying up. No matter how many times Ingrid reminded Mapi not to leave her various books and bags around the house the Spaniard just never took it to heart.

So doing what she does best, Ingrid puts them away for her girlfriend.

Opening the hallway closet, she starts the daunting task of hauling the heavy bag onto one of the higher shelves. It’s there, when the bag is halfway over her head that something falls out, the zipper not having been fully shut.

A couple curse words are grumbled out when the object smacks her square on the top of her head. Sighing, Ingrid crouches to grab at what she realizes is Mapi’s sketchbook… only to pause when she sees the page the book has fallen open onto.

Mapi’s artistic abilities have always been magnificent. When not busy with football or taking Ingrid out on dates, the Spaniard can always be found sketching away in some corner of their house. Ingrid’s always the first to point out how wonderful she finds her girlfriend’s pieces of art but these particular sketches, they’re nothing if not breathtaking. 

Ingrid picks up the book, fingers lightly tracing the unfamiliar face staring back at her. Whoever Mapi’s captured down on the paper is nothing if not beautiful. Your eyes look kind, mouth curled up into the gentlest of smiles.

Surprisingly it isn’t jealousy Ingrid feels at the sight of someone else captured so perfectly by Mapi. It’s curiosity that causes her to flip through page after page of Mapi’s sketchbook, each one containing a different picture of you through what’s clearly multiple different days. In some of them you’re staring right at Ingrid through the pages of the pad, in others it’s only your side profile that’s been captured.

The more Ingrid looks, the more her curiosity grows. And it’s this same curiosity that has Ingrid knocking on their shared bedroom a couple minutes later, book still in hand.

“Who is this?” It’s not an accusation, words coming out soft and curious as Ingrid gently places Mapi’s sketchbook down next to the defender. 

Mapi’s body all but freezes when she sees what Ingrid is referring to, eyes growing comically wide. “That’s uh, she’s um-- I just… she caught my eye-- and I… I--”

Mapi’s clearly at a loss of words, and Ingrid is quick to put her out of her misery. 

Ingrid puts a light hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Mapi, don’t worry about it. I know you’re loyal. This isn’t me asking if you’re cheating on me. You love me too much to ever think about breaking my heart.”

The blonde’s quiet for a moment, looking down at her fingers. Ingrid waits patiently, as the Spaniard gathers her thoughts. 

“She works at the cafe next to the park.”

Ingrid listens, if not with a little too much investment, as Mapi details the first trip that took her across your path. Something about you had Mapi returning time and time again, if just to hear your voice or get some work done in your presence. 

Mapi finishes her story and they put away the sketchbook and their day goes on as normal.The conversation really should have put an end to the thoughts swirling around her head, but something keeps tickling at the back of Ingrid’s mind. 

She should let it go. 

Ingrid knows she should let it go. 

But everyone says curiosity kills the cat and that’s exactly what happens. 

Ingrid goes to see you.

Well she actually goes to the cafe at which you work at, but it’s definitely with the intention to see you in action. 

And see you in action she does. 

Right from the get-go Ingrid can understand why Mapi’s been so drawn to you.

You’re soft spoken, eyes sparkling as you take her order. When Ingrid hesitantly pauses over unfamiliar Spanish words you don’t make a big deal out of her sudden switch to heavy-accented English. Instead, your smile grows wider, happy to converse in your native tongue. You converse in light English. Ingrid only stumbles over her words every here and there but you don’t comment, nodding along to everything she says as if they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

You’re just so nice and just so sweet and…

Ingrid finds herself coming back to see you again. And again. And again. 

She grows used to the way your face would light up when you catch sight of her walking through the doors. You’re always quick to nudge your coworker out of the way just so you can take her order. 

Ingrid doesn’t expect to feel things.

She’s in love with Mapi, she knows that. The two of them are supposedly going to get married in the future, live the happiest of lives together. 

But something about you is just so alluring. And it isn’t like Mapi isn’t attracted to you either. Although her girlfriend has never said it out loud, Ingrid knows her fascination with you is due in part to how beautiful she finds you. 

It’s after practice that Ingrid makes up her mind. 

There’s really nothing to lose either way. Either it works out, and she can make Mapi happy as well. Or it doesn’t. Worse case scenario the two of them will just have to get their caffeine fix somewhere else. 

Ticket clutched in hand, Ingrid walks up to the counter. 

---

Working at a cafe was never in your plans. 

But neither was uprooting your entire life and moving across the ocean to Spain. 

A year ago you had a really nice job, a loving girlfriend, a life you were sure was set to last you until the end. Walking in on your girlfriend in bed with “the friend you didn’t need to worry about” really turned everything on its head. 

When your job’s contract ended there wasn’t really anything keeping you tied down to the city you really only moved to for your ex-girlfriend for. So with nothing but a suitcase and plane ticket in hand, you made the rash decision to go to the ever sunny Barcelona. 

You’ve only been here for a couple months, but you’re already in love with the city and the culture. 

You get used to the everyday buzz of your routine. Wake up, go for a jog, head to work, make some coffee for some pretty girls, go home, rinse and repeat. Really not too much to focus on so it’s no surprise you noticed her right away. 

Bleach-blonde hair, reserved but beautiful smile, yeah, how could you miss someone like her?

She always ordered the same thing whenever she came in, one hand clutched around a small book and pencil. You’ve only ever heard her say her drink order, her name, and a polite thank you when you’d bring her drink, but beyond that, she was a mystery to you.

During lulls in your shift you’d often find your eyes drifting to where she sat, head buried in her book as her pencil made its way across the page. Her ink was magnetic, so many tattoos everywhere, her arms, hands, neck. 

You come to look forward to the days Mapi would come in. Every Monday like clockwork.

And while Mondays were for Mapi, Thursdays were for Ingrid. 

Ingrid was another one of the girls you’ve come to look forward to seeing. 

Unlike your Spanish crush, your Norwegian crush grew out of fondness.

At first you thought it was funny, having feelings for someone not from Spain in Spain. But Ingrid would always do whatever she could to make you laugh when she came in. She’s funny and attentive and just so caring, it’s no surprise you find your crush growing with each day. 

So yeah, maybe you’re crushing on two women in Barcelona, but it’s not like the other knew about your feelings for them or the other woman, so you feel vindicated to continue pining over Mapi on Mondays and Ingrid on Thursdays. 

When Ingrid asked you to accompany her to a Barcelona match your first instinct is to say no. 

First off, you never expected her to actually ask you out. 

Secondly, and more importantly, your best friend from home was always trying to get you to go to a soccer game with her but you never found much interest in people kicking balls around for ninety minutes. But to squander some alone time with a beautiful girl away from your place of work? Well that sounded pretty appealing.

The closer the match day gets the more excited you become. The day of the game you find yourself trying on at least half of your closet before calling your friend for help. All you really got was a bunch of teasing remarks, but with only a few minutes to spare you make it out the door to the game. 

You send a text off to Ingrid when you get to your seat. Everyone around you is already joyous, spanish chattering going off everywhere around you. 

But then the minutes tick by and your text is still left unread and Ingrid is still nowhere to be seen. It’s already passed the time Ingrid said for you to get to the game, but you can’t seem to get ahold of her nor can you spot her anywhere. 

You frown. Maybe something came up and Ingrid’s just running a little (a lot) behind?

Or perhaps you were just the fool to ever believe a gorgeous woman like Ingrid would ever be into someone like you.

Your heart sinks at the prospect of being stood up.

Suddenly your mood drops, no longer as excited at watching the game as you were earlier. The longer you sit here without seeing any hint of Ingrid, the more you find yourself wishing you never accepted the ticket in the first place. 

You’re broken out of your thoughts when the crowd around you starts cheering, the first of players starting to jog out onto the field for warm-ups. 

Blinking away what you know would be tears of frustration, you let your eyes rake over the unfamiliar players. Mapi’s the last thing on your mind as you wonder where Ingrid can be, which is  why you almost do a double take when you see someone who looks a bit like her jog right past you. 

Wait.

Your head whips to the side to track the player. 

Mapi’s dressed in Barcelona colors as she lightly pushes one of her teammates on the field. She’s now on the other side of the pitch, but you can still see the way she’s laughing and joking around with her teammates. 

Before you can really make sense of what you’re seeing, you feel your heart stuttering to a stop for the second time in seconds. 

There’s a familiar tall figure running up to Mapi’s side, throwing an arm around her shoulder. You would know that dazzling smile from anywhere.

Ingrid is on the field.

Ingrid is on the field next to Mapi.

Ingrid didn’t ask you to go to today’s game with her. She was asking you to watch her play in today’s game. 

And watching Ingrid play soccer apparently meant also watching Mapi play soccer too.

Although you’re here for Ingrid you can’t help but drool over how good Mapi looks streaking down the field. 

She seems to dance with the ball, effortlessly launching it right into the path of her teammates. 

You’re standing up and cheering when her assist turns into a goal. 

She’s celebrating with her teammates when you see Ingrid tug on Mapi’s sleeve. And then they’re both looking at you. You flush red at the gigantic smile on Ingrid’s face and the confused yet still slightly pleased look on Mapi’s.

When the final whistle blows you’re not quite sure what the proper etiquette is.

You’re still debating whether or not you should head out and text Ingrid later when you notice her heading in your direction. 

It’s automatic, the way your lips curl up into a smile.  

Until you realize she’s got one hand on Mapi’s forearm. 

It’s obvious that the two of them are arguing about something. Mapi’s eyebrows are drawn together, hand’s waving in front of her as she rapidly says something to the Norwegian. They’re still too far away for you to hear them but you can still make out the way Ingrid fondly rolls her eyes at the other woman.

As soon as they come within earshot of you though, Mapi falls silent. She’s looking a bit shy and bashful, not at all as confident as when she was playing earlier, but Ingrid still drags her to a stop in front of you.

“You could’ve told me you were playing in the game when you asked me to come, Ingrid.”

Ingrid grins. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You let her pull you into a sweaty hug, laughing when she shakes you side to side before letting go. Ingrid gives Mapi a slight nudge before the shorter woman gives you a subdued hello. 

She looks nervous. For what you’re not quite sure. If anything, you should be the nervous one. What’s your luck that the two women you’re crushing on know each other?

It almost seems natural, the way Mapi leans into Ingrid, and the way Ingrid so readily slots a hand on Mapi’s waist. 

It takes a moment but your heart drops when it clicks. 

“Oh, are you guys… you’re together?”

What. The. Fuck.

No, you’re not crushing on two women who know each other. You’re crushing on two women who happen to be together!

“Si,” Mapi confirms, looking a bit uncomfortable at the way Ingrid keeps manhandling her towards your body.

“Anyways, how did you like the game?” Ingrid butts in, eyelashes batting at you. 

Your eyes keep darting between hers and Mapi’s. “It was… it was a nice game. I can’t really say I have much experience to compare the match to, but you guys definitely tore up the field.”

Ingrid hums. “Well we’re just going to have to change that, won’t we.”

You don’t really understand what she means so you stay quiet, giving her a polite nod in response. If you were embarrassed thinking Ingrid stood you up earlier, there’s no words that can describe the way you’re feeling now. All you want to do is go home and curl into a ball. You’re going to need a couple days of wallowing about to get over these two stupid little crushes of yours. 

“The girls are planning on going out, if you want to come.”

Nervously scratching the back of your head, you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’re not quite sure why Ingrid looks so hopeful when Mapi’s literally held in her arms right in front of you. 

“I don’t know…”

It’s the sight of both Mapi and Ingrid’s faces falling that instantly makes you start doubting your decision.

“Please?” Mapi rasps, hand lightly falling upon your arm.

Mapi hasn’t really said much this entire time, but your eyes drop to where she’s touching you, face instantly heating up at the simple feel of her hand on your skin.

“I--” You make the mistake of raising your eyes, making direct eye contact with Mapi. The Spaniard’s eyes are soft and it feels a bit as if she’s staring right into your soul. Her fingers absentmindedly dance their way down to your arm as you try to say anything other than how much you’ve been thinking about what exactly her hands can do. 

“Well I suppose an hour or two out won’t hurt.” It comes out of your mouth without you really intending it to. 

But your heart feels a bit lighter at the way Mapi instantly looks like you’ve just made her day. Ingrid’s sporting a similar smile, chin resting upon Mapi’s shoulder. As gently as she can, Ingrid shuffles Mapi out of the way. You don’t have any time to react before she’s leaning in to press a kiss against your cheek. You’re sure your face is flaming red when she pulls back, but then Mapi’s leaning in next, kissing you just as softly as Ingrid did. She lingers for a beat, pausing to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear.

“Wait outside the corridor for us, yeah? We’ll let security know to let you through.”

Still dumbstruck you nod, not able to get rid of the tingling warmth from your skin. 

The two of them bid their goodbyes before disappearing down the tunnel towards the locker room. There’s nothing you can do but stare after their departing figures, hand coming up to touch your cheek as if you can’t believe what’s just happened. 

Because now that you’re really thinking about it, what did just happen?

[ayyyvivi]

Hi I’m back :3

This piece was a lot of fun to make and for while I was absolutely hating it. I’ll probably end up hating it by the time I wake up and start seeing the details I could’ve added but at this sleep deprived moment I’m happy with the way came out!

I wanna to say thank you to the peeps that liked and reposted my work my last piece got a lot of attention and it makes me happy to see that you guys liked what I made

I decided to maybe use these post to explain how I came up with it since I saw someone mention they liked how I went through my art process so I shall be putting some description on my work from now on >:3

For this piece I wanted to make Miles swing through the city in that pinkish sunset vibe from the movie but I wanted to make it a bit different than my other sketches of him going about New York and I guess different meant a backpack that was swung in a hurry and all his stuff flying out of it! I tried putting as much detail as possible for his stuff flying out even a hidden Gojo ψ(｀∇´)ψ

The buildings were a pain to make I’m still not entirely sold if I like them or not. And I tried to add lots of texture to Spider-man’s suit so it wouldn’t look so bland. My friend had mentioned to me that she likes it a lot better when she can see an artist brush strokes and it being blended makes things kinda flat and since then I feel like my drawings have looked a lot nicer! I guess I’m still getting used digital after drawing traditional for so long

OH! I should mention I’m really inconsistent with my art style for while I would panic because I know something artist must have is some kind of style for people to notice who the work comes from. Im kinda not like that I like being all over the place and I enjoy drawing in all types of ways so I know rn my work looks similar to Spiderverse but depending on how I’m feeling things can change so I guess my art style is being constantly inconsistent! Honestly this kinda gets more for during Halloween when I do my one inktober stuff so stay tune for that!!

If you guys got questions or suggestions on who you want me to draw next let me know! I know someone mentioned they wanted Spider-Gwen with a wolf cut so maybe I’ll do a quick sketch of that

[retromotherfuckers]

Violet Eyes, Red

Pairing:

rhysand x reader (pretty sure it's gender neutral - there might be a "she" i missed while referring to you from the original draft bc second person pov is not how i write)

Summary:

you and your mate reunite after feyre defeats amarantha and this is the fallout of what the bitch did to him.

Warnings:

aftermath of SA - i can't really tell if it's graphic which tells me it is, loose description of a panic attack, PTSD, please let me know if I missed anything. guys, please, if these topics are triggering for you, don't read this fic. i am not responsible for your media consumption, but i also don't want to throw you headfirst into your trauma.

Word Count:

2,140

A/N:

literally broke my own damn heart with this one. rhys' trauma is so ignored and that needed to be rectified. rhys might be my second favorite bat boy, but he's still a lil baby who needs to be protected

The human girl had beaten her - the woman of his nightmares - once and for all. At the first moment he could, Rhysand winnowed. After fifty years, he knew there was only one place he could go. After all, it was the last Sunday of the month, and that Sunday was the day he and his mate reserved just for themselves. The High Lord and Lady would not conduct any business on that day.

You'd spend most of your day on the balcony. You'd serenade him with the piano. You'd fly around Velaris - creating patterns in the air. You'd cradle each other in your arms. He'd sketch out a new drawing - trying and failing, in his opinion, to encapsulate your true beauty.

One day, he broke that promise, that vow you had made, and went to what he thought was a simple trade meeting. That morning was the last day he saw you, and he still couldn't live with himself.

Those memories alone kept him breathing at times. When Amarantha stole his bed, his body, his hope.

Then the human girl showed up, and he tried to help her. Wanted to give her what she needed to beat the beast he didn't think he'd ever escape. But he had lost the will to pray for it. To the cauldron, to the Mother Above. Despite his pessimism, she persevered. The girl had won. And then he was free.

He was on the balcony before he could even think about it. After a quick glance around, he realized it was empty. At first, he felt a pulse of disappointment, but with the realization of how long it'd been, he breathed deeply. How could he expect you to keep up the tradition? Fifty years of solitude on those Sundays would have made him mad if your roles were reversed.

At the thought, he allowed himself to feel the mating bond. It had gone cold the moment he winnowed away all those years ago, but now it was as beautiful as he remembered. The pull of another person at the end of a tether, forever binding them in the purest forms of fate.

But he heard your thoughts, and he almost broke down in sobs at the sound of your voice in his head. Please come home, my love. I don't know how to do this anymore. Please. The last word, you were begging. Your inner voice, the one he had to get used to living without, was broken. Pleading for him to return - despite everything you'd probably heard.

And with that, he took action, winnowing to every room in the house so he would find you as soon as possible. He knew you were close; your scent wasn't stale. It was fresh, clinging to every piece of furniture you owned together.

It was the last room he checked, his office, where he found you. You sat in his desk chair; the leather more worn than he remembered. But the sight of you stopped him from rushing to you. Nursing a bottle of wine, you slouched on your elbows, hands in your hair, as more thoughts streamed through the bond.

I'm losing myself, Rhys. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't let myself believe you won't come back because that- that will ruin me. What she's doing to you, what she's making you do. I don't even know a fraction of it, but I can't stop it. I- I can't protect you. And I hate myself for it. 

He was watching you as you sent the words down the bond, the bond that had been desolate for half a century. You run your hands down your face, not looking up from your wine, the third of many you planned to drown in.

Just get through it. Please just- just survive. Do what you have to do to come home. I'll be here. I love you. My mate.

You'd only allowed yourself to talk to him once a month. Initially, you would try to send him something every day. Thoughts, images, songs you'd learned, prayers for him. You never heard anything back, and it slowly started eating away at you. It shattered your hope every time you didn't get a response.

You'd heard the rumors, Amarantha's whore, he'd been called. Every time you heard it, it ate away at you more and more. As if he would choose that - choose to warm the bed of another when you were waiting for him at home. You knew him better than that, and you winced at the thought. He wouldn't choose it, but would she force him? Was she that much of a monster? 

You had to shake that thought away for the thousandth time that night, downing the rest of the glass. As you reach for the bottle, nearly empty at that point, a hand wraps around your wrist. The touch is gentle but firm - stopping you from drinking more, but not rough enough to hurt. Instead of startling at it, the wine slows your instincts. You can only stare. The tattoos on the dorsal side interweave into vines under the sleeve. Vines you know, vines that you've held, vines that have and will continue to have free rein of your body.

Faster than you thought you were capable of, your eyes flew to its owner's eyes. Violet. The most ravishing violet. Violet you'd feared you were forgetting.

With a new urgency, you pulled yourself to your feet, your hands flying up to his face without thinking. One on his cheek, the other on his neck, pushing, pulling, grabbing, unsure if it was your mind playing tricks on you.

In your desperate touch, you missed the way he flinched.

His hands. Mother Above, his beautiful hands were on your neck too, placed at the sides. When your mind would play you for a fool, it would never let you touch him, let alone allow him to reach you. But there he was, and you could feel him. You tugged at the bond, finally noticing it was warm and delicate and sweet and serene and everything you wished you knew how to describe. 

He breathed your name, barely a whisper. "I'm home, my darling. I'm home."

"You're here." The words barely escaped you, and you couldn't stop the tears. He didn't hesitate a moment, pulling you in for a frustratingly rare and fierce embrace. You clung to each other for dear life, tighter and tighter and tighter, like he'd disappear if you let him go. Frankly, you weren't convinced he wouldn't. "You're really here."

You stood like that for a while, holding each other, when he ultimately pulled away first. "Rh-Rhys, don't go-"

"I'm not," he promised, his voice raw, kissing your forehead. He took in every inch of your face. "I just wanted to look at you. My mate."

Since Rhys had been freed by the human girl, nothing had been normal. Not that you expected it to be, but you didn't anticipate just how awful a recovery for him would be. He couldn't share your bed, and you didn't mean that in a sexual manner. He couldn't sleep with anyone else in his room - if he had even been sleeping at all. He could barely stand to be touched. You knew he wanted to be able to let you, but every time you seemed to blink, he would flinch.

You had suspicions about what went on under the mountain, but you had no idea it would be so evil.

He stood before a cabinet, staring blankly into it, lost in a memory - a memory he'd been refusing to share. You understood why, but something in you told you that you needed to see. Not just for curiosity's sake but to know how to help him. Even if it was past your pay grade.

"Rhys," You called quietly for the second time. You didn't want to touch him, shock him back to reality. The fear of that setting him off more held you back. With a harsh and sudden breath, he fearfully glanced at you and around the room, forgetting where he was for a moment. "You're at home, Rhys. You came home."

"I'm sorry," He rasped, ignoring your words. His hands pulled at his hair, and you were nervous he'd start ripping it out. He backed away from you, so far away he was caught by the wall. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Your own formed at the sight of his tears, but you couldn't conjure up what he'd have to apologize for. "It's okay, honey, you're safe. It's okay."

"I didn't- I didn't want it. I swear on my life, I didn't want to."

You shook your head, not understanding. But you knew asking what he was apologizing for was the wrong thing to do. You could see it, the shame, the regret, the blame. "I know you didn't."

He squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in his hands, and sank to the floor. He kept murmuring apologies, pleading for your forgiveness. "I betrayed you, you have to- you have to leave me."

His words shocked you, and now you were the one that flinched. "Rhysand, look at me." He visibly shrunk at the command, pulling his hands away from his face. "As far as I'm concerned, anything that happened...there...is the furthest thing from your fault. I know there are things you can't tell me, and that's okay. I'll be here when you're ready-"

"I can't!" He bellowed. "You'll never forgive-"

"Show me the memory." You demanded, your voice quiet but assertive. But you wouldn't push too hard if he was adamant about keeping you out. You knew. You knew. Based on the way he had been acting, what had happened. But you also knew he needed to show you. So someone, fucking someone, would tell him it was out of his control. He couldn't govern everything, even if he was the High Lord of the Night Court. The words hurt as they left your lips. "Because I can promise you that I will."

You weren't a daemati, but you could see him battling with himself. Debating, if showing you what really happened, would bury him deeper under the surface or pull him back up for air.

Eventually, he released a rare sob and a barely audible "Okay."

He showed you the first time, how he just laid there like a statue as her hands took everything for herself. Then, the fifth time, when she started demanding he respond, pretend he wanted it. Then, the eleventh time, when his body started reacting. Then, by the next time, he had stopped keeping count.

He showed you, whether he meant to or not, how he prayed for it to end, prayed for someone to rescue him.

How he had been praying for you.

With the confirmation of your theory, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back the tears. The angry tears, wishing you could've been the one to rip her throat out. Tears that enraged you because that was not Tamlin's kill. Furious tears because that wasn't even your kill. Devastating tears because your mate not only had to play a character for so long, but he had to endure being called her whore. Like he had any fucking say. 

Overwhelming tears because your mate was in pain and there was shit all you could do about it.

"Can I touch you?" The question shocks him, but he nods without thinking, confused at the request. You slowly lift your hands to his cheeks, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. "There is nothing for me to forgive you for. I know you didn't want to do any of it."

"But I-"

"Bodies respond to stimulation whether it's wanted or not. It's how we work." You explained slowly and carefully, keeping direct eye contact. "You forget, sweetheart. I can hear your thoughts when you show me a memory."

"I've-" His voice caught, putting his hands on your wrists, rubbing them up and down your arms until they got hot. "I've been so scared. That it's still happening. That all of this is going to go away, that she's not really gone, that I'm not really here, and this is just another tactic-"

You shake your head, finally pulling yourself together to say what you've wanted to say for weeks. "I swear on my life that I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. I will spend eternity protecting you from her and anyone like her. And if you forget that this is real, just ask me. I'll tell you."

His eyes darted between yours, furiously blinking. Violet eyes, red. Pleading craving begging praying.

"Is it?"

[linkemon]

Confession headcanons

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other headcanons from this series can be found here.

Part 1 | Part 2 of the confession headcanons.

This part contains: Rook Hunt, Riddle Rosehearts and Floyd Leech.

Rook Hunt

• Even if you weren't fully aware of Rook's love for you, its signs would catch up with you faster than his arrow. Mainly because Hunt doesn't hide his feelings towards anyone. His love for beautiful things is widely known. What can be more beautiful than love? It might be difficult to distinguish his usual delight from this feeling. Because Rook has been singing paeans to you basically from the very beginning of your acquaintance.

• You would definitely feel valued around him. He sees your advantages but at the same time loves your flaws. Do you bump into things? You don't want to study? Did you cause mischief with Ace and Deuce? He thinks it's a charming display of unpredictability, which makes him like you even more.

• You would have to come to terms with his stalker tendencies. If you knew how much he watched you to plan the perfect confession, you'd think twice if you really wanted to be with him...

• Vil doesn't have much patience. He promised himself that if he heard Rook start talking about the sparkle in your eyes again, he would remove him from his position at Pomefiore. The poor boy had no choice but to stop.

• Rook's confession would consist of love letters that would bring you to your knees. Delivered by an arrow, of course. He couldn't send just one. It would take time because he had a large supply of them. Poems about your appearance, interesting facts about yourself that you don't notice or a quick sketch of your face. He kept them all and now he decided to reveal them to you. You would have known after the first letter but it's nice to see the new ones coming after you've already told him that you reciprocate his feelings.

Riddle Rosehearts

• You would be the one to confess your feelings to him before he had the chance to do so. Riddle would have seen something happening to him. His attention would start flying out the window and it would worry him terribly. History of magic lesson with Trein and he didn't write down a few sentences of his notes? Disgraceful behaviour on his part. And all because you had physical education with Vargas outside the window near him. You were laughing loudly at something and he could almost imagine the sound.

• He wouldn't be able to understand that he was in love. His mother didn't talk to him about such things, so although he understood in theory that people were together, he had no practice in this area because she always locked him at home. Trey would gently suggest this possibility to him but he would hotly deny his words.

• You would have to take matters into your own hands. You'd realize pretty quickly that Rosehearts reciprocated your feelings. After all, no one else escapes his spell as easily as you. In front of no one, his cheeks glow as scarlet as the Queen of Hearts' dress. At unbirthday parties, he serves you first and you are always welcome in his dorm, even if he was busy studying. Knowing his character would let you know that you had to take the first step.

• You would scrape the thaumarks you had saved especially for such occasions. For once the rules of the Queen of Hearts would be useful. A bouquet of freshly cut red roses, of course in an odd number, clearly suggested a declaration of love. Riddle, versed in complex laws, would have understood immediately when you handed it to him. You would be answered by the redness in his cheeks and the silence, after which he would say that he needed to think about it. Don't worry, it wouldn't take him long. He would just have to get used to this new thought.

Floyd Leech

• Confessing your feelings for Floyd would be as strange as your entire relationship. One day he would just say you were his girlfriend. Just like that. You wouldn't take it to heart because the guy is always saying very random things, one third of which are jokes, one third are lies and the rest are true. You assumed it was another joke and that's it.

• It would piss you off when he got between you and a freshman you went to class with and talked to. He would put his head on your shoulder and tell him to get lost because he wanted to talk to his girlfriend. You would grumble under your breath and follow Floyd, not taking his words seriously.

• That was until one time at the Mostro Lounge, his brother asked if you were going to go home with them because it would be nice for their parents to meet you. You would look at him as if he had grown an extra tentacle. In your head you weren't even a couple. Meanwhile, Floyd allegedly talked about it at virtually any occasion. You would go to him right away to explain it.

• Floyd wouldn't be moved by his favourite shrimpy yelling at him. After your tirade, he would ask how you wanted him to confess his feelings to you, completely unfazed. Whatever you say, he will do it. Do you want to put him to some test this way? No problem. For him, it might even be a confession made on the moon. His cleverness is not decoration. When he really cares about something (or someone), he will get it sooner or later.

• Ne, shrimpy... you better have the sweetest kiss in the world for his hardships. Once Floyd sticks to you, you won't get rid of him easily...

[webslingingslasher]

peter is so fine i just know guys hit on him too like… everyone wants him

in my head he directs every hot guy that flirts with him to ethan & sets him up with hot guys

oh also, i can see him being like ‘no this guys way better’ when ethan goes up to someone at a party djdjdjs

yes but peter is a bit more dumb when it comes to guys flirting with him.

'hey.'

peter's chin rises as an acknowledgement. 'hey, man.' he throws back the rest of his beer, he misses the way his mouth is watched when it wraps around the bottle, and the heavy eyes on his shoulders when he leans on the counter.

'is this your frat?' peter reaches for another beer, he offers one to the guy next to him, their fingers brush, peter says nothing about it. 'yeah, all three years. are you in a house?'

he shakes his head, 'nah. not my thing, most guys in them aren't so, ah.. tolerating, you know?' peter shrugs, 'yeah, sure, man. sig is pretty cool, it's pretty tolerable.'

the guy laughs, a little too hard, his elbow bounces off peter's arm. his hand sticks out, 'eric, nice to meet you.' peter holds out his own, he's expecting a firm grip but eric is delicate. 'parker.'

'what are you majoring in, parker?' it feels like they're holding hands, it's gone on a little too long. peter pulls away first, eric bites back a smile. 'uh, physics.'

'ooh, you're smart, aren't you? that's a bit of a curveball.' peter feels a little insulted. 'are you saying that because i'm in a frat? what, that means i can't be smart? tell me, what's your major, communications?'

eric raises his hands, 'easy, tiger.' peter blinks, he thinks of you for a second. 'i just meant i didn't expect you to be a nerd under... all that.' eric tucks the corner of his bottom lip into his mouth, peter takes a small step back, he feels like he's being observed.

'graphic design, by the way. you know what, you're really handsome, i could do a quick sketch for you.' peter feels a spark, it's not everyday another guy calls him handsome.

'hey, man. you're handsome, too.' peter's had a few beers, he misses the way eric's eyes light up. peter slides a napkin over, he tears open a drawer, a pen produced.

'alright, how do you want me to pose?'

'hm, naked?' peter finds him funny, 'yeah, let me just whip it out in front of the crowd.' eric starts the scribbles, a rough outline at first. 'or we could take it to your room?'

peter pauses, eric is detailing his lips, he never knew they could look so luscious on a napkin drawing. 'what's in my room?' eric initials the sketch, it's wildly detailed for being done in a minute.

'your dick? preferably in my mouth?'

peter drops his mouth open, his hands wave back and forth. 'no! i'm so sorry, but no! i have like, a girlfriend. not gay, i mean, i love them- you- fuck, you know what i mean, but i'm not one. a gay person, i mean. but my best friend is half gay and he's really cool, like, cooler than me and the gay thing is only like a fraction why.'

eric looks off to the side, peter grabs his shoulders. 'dude, this happens to me all the time. it's no big deal, but you know who is? ethan. he's super into plants, it's like his whole thing. you like me so you'll like him. trust.'

'alright, i'll meet your friend.' peter cheers and tugs him out the kitchen by his arm, 'i promise you, dude. dick sucking will happen tonight, you're welcome.' 

[firegirl888101]

how would the harbingers react to a reader who's good at drawing? like, they like to draw the harbingers or other things

Good at drawing?

I'm shit at drawing so I'm not really sure what to say, that's why I didn't reply to this for awhile. But, I eventually got a couple things when my friend was sketching some stuff in front of me.

Sorry that the current Insatiable Madness chapter is taking so long, I've been studying a lot these past couple of days.

I also got another ask where it asked about Halloween. I don't really celebrate Halloween, because I never grew up with it. I've always been too shy to trick-or-treat and I didn't have many friends (and still don't) who'd want to go with me. Quite sad actually, but it's alright. I don't think I missed out on much.

Is anyone expecting me to make a Halloween special? I don't mind doing it, but I'll need inspiration as I wouldn't know where to start 💀

Actually, the more I think about it, I do have one fun idea. (Harbingers going trick-or-treating??? Halloween party if that even exists? Idk, I'll have to do some research.)

|You can take this with Yandere and without - some will probably lean towards yan though.|

So, to begin with:

Pierro wouldn't be too bothered. I feel if Y/N had a skill they were confident in, and wanted to show it, he'd let his curiousity get the better of him and check it out. But, if it's something like drawing he'll probably leave a comment then leave. Whether it's positive or negative, you be the judge. This man is like a slate slab. No personality I'm sorry 😭😭 (When I see more of his character, maybe I'll like him more?)

If you were to draw this man, he'd be humbled. A Grandpa who received his very first present from his grandchild. Would definitely frame the damn thing in his office (which originally was your parent's) he'd put it on the desk. It's his office now, don't argue for it back.

Capitano would show interest. Not too much since he's the main captain of the Fatui, but still interested. If he's bored, or deems the 'fort' (the house) safe, he'll sit down with you and watch what you're doing. Occasionally asking you if he could doodle with you - but I think that would be very rare. His main objective in his mind is guarding you when your own is low whilst you're having fun, doodling or drawing something.

Would 100% deny the picture of him at first. He'd think, that looks like me, but it can't be. Yes, it's him, you'd reassure. Eventually he does take it and folds it in his coat. After that, he'd probably leave the room in embarrassment. Since then on, he'd definitely keep all drawings you've made of him in his pocket. There's too many? Let's put it in the second pocket. That's full too? Looks like he's buying a new coat. Oh? There's room in his military coat he hasn't worn in two years? That'll do just nicely.

Dottore would be intrigued if he saw you practice anatomy - or if you drew more of a gorey scene. I think he'd be even more interested if you liked to draw the human body with extra things (such as arms, legs, eyes or even got rid of a few), and question you on your design choices and if it already exists somewhere. (He's not fooling you, he's obviously taking inspirations for a new experiment). If he didn't know, or wasn't good, he'd probably ask for tips on how to sketch ideas like yours. He reassures you it's not for any experimentation but once again, he's not fooling you at all.

If you were to draw him he'd treat it like glass. Nobody has ever given him a sketch before - bonus points if you draw him injured whilst you're angry with him. He'd treat it as if you drew him with love, and not as if you'd stab him in the heart if you ever got the chance. What do you mean he shouldn't like it this much? It's a work of art! He'd be very quick to correct the drawing if you got anything wrong. Who knows what this man has in his body at this point.

Columbina would join you in your drawing activities. Maybe add some glitter if you have any. The second you complain about cleaning up, however, she has somehow disappeared and has become very forgetful about the events upstairs. 'How curious!~' She would hum to herself with her usual smile. Is definitely the type to ask if you could draw her. Who are you to refuse? Especially when she gives you that look of daunt hope and kindness which makes you drop your pen in fear. Before you can give her an answer, you've already picked up your pencil and began to sketch her beautiful headpiece.

When Columbina receives her multiple sketches, she's overjoyed. Oh, look how you drew this part! How you drew her clothes! She's quick to kiss you on the cheek as a thank you and runs off somewhere. Huh, you feel like you've just been used.

Arlecchino will roll her eyes at first. She's seen many children in the hearth draw for her. Her initial thoughts were vague, she didn't really see much of your hobby. That was until she actually saw what you were drawing. She would stare as you worked, your pencil delicately brushing against the paper you most likely bought the other day. It soon will become a habit to watch you work, becoming a therapeutic source for her. She sometimes questions why you're drawing... certain things, but she wouldn't actually stop your creative mind from working.

Handing Arlecchino the drawing you drew of her would make her blood rise to her cheeks slightly. Sure, she's received a lot of gifts in this sense before. But from you? What an honour! She'll accept it with a soft smile she'd usually show the kids, and pat your head treating you like one. Little do you know she's trying so hard to control her cute agression response by not tearing the paper.

Pulcinella would react very similarly to Pierro. However, he'd have more experience with complimenting and encouraging 'a child' in a hobby they're having fun with. If he saw your skill, he'd probably compliment it whole-heartedly with a chuffed smile. Massaging his mustache like some aristocrat, in the 1940s... Anyway, he'd be very pleased when he watches you draw more and more. He's happy that you're spending your time doing something you like under the tense situation his coworkers (and him, but he doesn't like to admit it) have brought upon you.

I do not see you drawing this man at all. He's a short, dobby, old, looking as man. I don't see him as the type to ask either, at all. He's minding his own business in your house and plans to keep it that way until the situation is resolved.

Scaramouche really doesn't care. We've all got our own likes and dislikes, but he's not bothered about yours. Will most likely purposefully pass by you working on a piece and insult it just to get attention. He'd never actually mean it though - he just never tells you that important fact. As time progresses he'll sneak into your room just to look at more sketches or finished drawings you've done, and assess your progress from each year if you've been practicing for a long time-period.

Now, here's where things get interesting. If you were to draw him and never show it to him, said puppet finding it for himself in one of your drawers, he'd first feel angry. Why wouldn't you show him this? It's of him! ...But then he'd quickly realise it's because of the way he treated you when you were working (oops). If you actually handed it to him and let him keep it, he'd be delighted. You actually drew him? He didn't even have to manipu-- he means 'ask' you to draw him? This is a good step forward to where he wants to be in your heart.

Sandrone would be delighted to know that she's finally found a use for you in her head. She never thought that purposefully walking past you one evening would lead to her shuffling through all the sketches and designs you've done with awe. Where did you get this idea from? How can she recreate it? Would you be happier and more devoted to her if she were to make your dreams true? She digresses. Watching your creative little mind draw your ideas to life inspires her also, and makes her want to recruit you as a special exception to the 'no non-artificial beings' allowed in her workshop. Thinking of all the monstrosities you could design with her help sends pleasurable shivers up her spine.

Drawing her, however? This was rather unprecedented. Out of all the things-- no, people you could have drawn... and you decide on her? And ooh! You even drew her slave she likes to travel around on, how thoughtful, you're already expressing your adoration for her works! Trust me, don't draw her. You'll give her daydreams that will never happen.

Signora, like most of the harbingers, wouldn't care at first. She hates your house and hates your world, why in Teyvat's name would she be interested in what you're doing? That's what she used to think, until her arrogant slick eyes caught sight of what exactly you were drawing. In my opinion, there's only a couple things that would interest Signora. Drawing dresses, if you were interested in fashion designing, would definitely be the main one. Viewing your designs after you finished them would soon become a small hobby for her, and soon, she'd eventually ask you to draw her in one of your designs.

You'd say yes, of course. An excuse to draw a drop-dead gorgeous woman in one of your designs for free? No way you were going to pass this opportunity! For her hard work in modeling, you'd definitely pay back twice and give her a drawing of her in her harbinger uniform too - which I think would flatter her a bit too much.

Pantalone wouldn't care, and would never become interested. He's a very rich and successful banker, not any ordinary man. As soon as he sees you drawing somewhere in the house, he'll shrug and go the opposite way. He knows what it's like to be interrupted through a thoughtful process, and he doesn't feel like getting an earful from you if he interrupts it. What he does think about, however, is if you're making money from it. Maybe an online business. He asks, and receives a very disappointing answer. No? What do you mean no? These are good, he'd pay for a portrait! Well, if Mora was a usable currency here. Ugh, the thought of being a poor man in this world makes him disgusted.

Drawing him would result in lots of praise. He'd be very happy you used your own time to draw him. He didn't even have to pay for it, it was gift! You even said so yourself. Immediately taken from your hands and framed somewhere. You can't seem to find the drawing though... Pantalone insists it's still in the house, but no matter where you look you just can't find it! Oh well, it's probably better you didn't know where it went. (You would have never been able to find it, he hid the location so well after all.) Pantalone told you he'd give something back to you as a thank you, but you're not holding him to his word.

Tartaglia would be interested the second he sees you doing something he hasn't seen you do before. That looks interesting, let him give drawing a try! He'd boast how his siblings love his drawings he creates, but you knew he was lying to set a cheery mood. Your understanding was backed when you actually saw his 'Amazing Drawing'... It was embarrassing to say the least. He would heed all your little tips and eventually get good at drawing from your guidance! I can see him as the type to use these skills later for his siblings, and as the type to continue drawing even if you begin to get bored of it... He's skilled with his fingers after all-- okay I'm sorry I'm done.

Drawing him can go one in two ways. I see him as someone who will whine about being drawn. He'll say: 'Have you drawn me yet?' in one of the most annoying voices he cna muster. He knows and understands you find it annoying when he asks you to draw him, so he's found a loophole. Just keep asking questions related to it until you get the hint! ...You got the hint weeks ago, but you're refusing to do it. Well, you're refusing to show him your drawings you've already finished and hid out of sight. Showing him these drawings would make him really happy! Would fold his favourite and carry it around with him everywhere like some of the other harbingers. His next commission he's planned to ask you is of a drawing of Capitano. You eagerly declined, not wishing to impose on the Captain's privacy.

[specialagentlokitty]

MHA x reader - nightmare

Hi can you do more bnha where Izuku sees the Reader (who's a hero and a teacher to UA) and ask about her quirk. Problem is, Reader hates her quirk (it can be any quirk that is considered villainous) as it had cause her parent's deaths and hates talking about it. But Izuku is the sweetest student she has (she could be an animal teacher who teaches how to rescue animals whenever there's a major disaster.) and she can't help but talk to him and he starts rambling off about how her quirk can help people not realizing that she starts to feel better about her quirk. - Anon💜

Walking through the hallways of UA you kept your eyes fixated forward as students jumped out of your way, doing anything to avoid being near you.

They were all rushing out of their classes to go to lunch, and you were heading to your own classroom to get away from the students and their prying eyes.

Pushing the door open, you made your way inside, pushing your hood down as you walked over to your desk, sitting down and kicking your feet up as you opened your lunch.

Hearing a timid knock on your door, you turned your head in that direction, watching as it was opened, timid green eyes locked with your black ones.

“Midoriya, it’s lunch you shouldn’t be here.”

“I.. I know… I had a question…” he mumbled.

You gave a nod of your head, gesturing for him to come in and you took your feet from the desk, kicking a chair over for him to sit down which he took.

He sat down, hugging his notebook to his chest.

“What do you want to ask?”

“I wanted to ask about your quirk….”

You narrowed your eyes a little bit which made him shuffle back in his chair, and you turned back to your lunch.

“Why?”

“Well, I know about Mr Aizawa’s, and everybody’s in my class, but I didn’t know much about you… I know you’ve never done any interviews about your quirk despite how many times the media has asked you.”

You held your spare hand out, waiting for him to give you the notebook.

Taking it from him you placed it on the desk, flicking through the pages, glancing over his notes and he laughed nervously.

“I know it may seem really weird but I’m eager to know everything about everybody’s quirks!”

“It’s a good thing, learning about as many quirks as you can now will help you in the future, you’ll be able to match similar quirks to ones you know.”

“Oh wow really? I never thought about that.”

You set your lunch down, taking the notebook and you turned to the student.

“I assume you spend a lot of time studying others, so the next time you’re facing another class focus on the quirks that resemble ones you’ve studied, you’ll notice a lot of them will fall into the same sub class.”

You carried flicking through the pages until you finally reached the page about you.

Just like the others there was a quick sketch of your hero costume, and the page title was your hero name, but that was it, there wasn’t anything else on the page.

There was just a bunch of question marks and you set the notebook next to you out of his way.

“I haven’t really figured anything out about your quirk, I tried. There’s speculation about what it’s actually called, as it was never confirmed there’s load of theories going around.” He explained.

You hummed a little bit.

“They also say that you chose your hero name based on what people would call you.”

“What do you think?”

“Well I do think Nightmare is a usual hero name, but I think it’s really cool!” He grinned.

You let out a small laugh.

“It’s true that my hero name is what people used to call me when I was growing up, my whole life that’s all I’ve been referred as. A nightmare.”

You pushed yourself up, pulling your hood back up, gesturing for him to follow you and he did, letting you lead him down the schools halls.

Some students watched in curiosity as the student followed you.

“My quirk is called Nightmare as well, so I suppose it’s fitting that I used that as my hero name given how everybody called me that anyways, it wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

Leading him to the cafeteria, you made him pick up his lunch, and you made your way back to your classroom.

He sat at one of the desks so he could eat while writing down in his notebook, and you went back to eating your own lunch.

“How does your quirk work?”

You sighed.

“I don’t like talking about it.”

“Oh I’m really sorry Miss Nightmare! I didn’t mean to push!” He panicked.

You gazed at him with black eyes.

He’d heard people couldn’t meet your gaze, because when they did it was like looking into an abyss, you get lost in them and that’s how your quirk works.

You have never activated it on them though, and he wasn’t so sure how true that was.

“What I’m about to tell you an never leave this room, do you understand? There’s a select few who know about my quirk and how it works. All Might seems to trust you, and I trust him.”

“Of course! You have my word!”

He grinned from ear to ear and you sighed.

“Let me start by saying that all those rumours you’ve heard about my quirk aren’t real. It doesn’t work the way people think it does. My quirk is called Nightmare, but I don’t cause nightmares.”

“You don’t?”

You shook your head.

“My quirk lets me see what people’s biggest fear is, it’s like a label above your head, I can’t help this, I just see it. Now, don’t get me wrong, your biggest fear isn’t what you think it is, it’s a subconscious fear, something you don’t even think about.”

“What’s mine?”

“I can’t tell you, if I tell you that means my quirk is in effect. Generally if I tell somebody their fear they’ll become hyper focused on it, and it’ll drive them insane.”

He nodded his head.

“My quirk allows me to take other fears however, and bring them into reality, no matter what it is, I can shape all your fears, your nightmares into physical forms, only you can see them, nobody else, and for the most part it’ll leave you unable to move, you’ll be to scared to try and fight.”

“That’s why no villains have ever attacked you, right?”

“Correct.”

Walking over to your chalkboard, you grabbed the chalk and began to explain everything to him, drawing a few diagrams.

You turned to look at Midoriya.

“I turn my victims world into a living nightmare in which they’rere trapped until I release them from my quirk. However I can’t keep them under the affect for more than five minutes.”

“What happens after that?”

“Do you know how fear works? What it does to your body?”

He shook his head, and you began to explain how fear affects the body, and what it does to the body.

“Eventually your heart will give out, you’ll die.”

His eyes shot open.

“This is why I’m the last to the scene, so I can subdue the villains without harming them.”

You erased all the writing off the board, setting the chalk back down.

Taking your chair you walked over to him, setting in down in front of his desk, and you took his notebook to see if he was writing anything down.

Much to your surprise he hadn’t been writing a single thing down.

“This is why I’m regarded as a villain, even though I help people. Because of how dangerous my quirk is, I need to remain in full control otherwise the consequences could be disastrous.”

You sighed a little bit.

“I can also take your fears and nightmares, but like all quirks there’s a drawback.”

“Oh?”

You pushed your hood down, and the boy could see how tired you look, as if you hadn’t slept for years.

“In studying peoples fear, taking them and manipulating them, they also become part of me, meaning I’m stuck with all the fears I have ever seen. Which means I can’t sleep. I sleep a few hours week at most.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound healthy.”

You let out a small laugh, leaning back in your chair.

“Each quirk has a downfall Midoriya, you should know this as well.”

He frowned a little bit.

“A lot of people say you hate your quirk…” he said quietly.

You nodded your head.

“They’re correct, I don’t. I hate my quirk, it’s monstrous, which is why I wanted to use it to be a hero. That doesn’t mean I like it though.”

“Your quirk is amazing! You can do so much with it to help people though! You can take peoples fears away! And you can stop villains before they hurt anybody!”

He carried on rambling about how amazing your quirk was, and how you could help people giving you a list longer then you ever thought.

You never realised there was so many uses for your quirk, and after being called a villain and a monster for so long you had began to believe it.

But listening to your student rambling in amazement about your quirk all you could do was smile as you listened.

While he was pacing back and forth listening everything you were writing his notebook, closing it just before the bell went.

“Oh! I’m going to be late!”

“Notebook.”

You held it out to him, and he beamed brightly as he ran out of the classroom.

With a little smile you went back to your desk to finish eating your lunch, a newfound sense of wonder for your quirk installed in you.

He was going to make a great hero and that you were sure of, you just wondered if you’d be able to see your students grow.

Your door was opened again, and Hizashi walked in with a grin, holding up a cup and a bottle, Aizawa walking with him.

“You two have class.”

“You need sleep.”

Hizashi walked over, setting them both in front of you, and he grinned a little.

“Aizawa is gonna make sure your quirk stays dormant!”

You smiled at them both, taking your medication and downing the cup of coffee.

Tossing your jacket in the ground you laid your head on it, resting your arms over your eyes.

“What’s the medication for anyways man? You’ve never said.” The loud hero huffed.

“Fatal insomnia, a genetic byproduct of my quirk.”

[kermitkrqb]

Muse || Xavier Thorpe x reader

A/N: Do you guys prefer him with his hair up or down? I’m leaning more towards down but, he’s fine either way 😼

What to expect: Gender neutral reader, friends to lovers, make out, suggestive, idk things just escalated lmao, !!!!NO SPOILERS IN THIS FIC!!!!

You had been stuck in the same position for what felt like forever as you sat on the assigned wooden stool. Your arms felt tense and you could could feel yourself twitching. The long haired brunette in front of you chuckled, “Quit squirming. Just 5 more minutes, ok?” You whined, “You said that just before!” Xavier smirked, “This time I’m telling the truth. I’m almost done just hold that pose.” If it was anyone else you would have got up and walked away but, you had quite the soft spot for Xavier. You weren’t sure how you felt about it, or maybe you were just in denial. You first met Xavier Thorpe at the start of the year, sharing the class of botanical sciences with Ms Thornhill when the only available seat was next to him. It didn’t take long for him to befriend you, admiring your passion towards botany as well as art. You gazed at the long haired boy in front of you, watching as his brows furrowed with concentration, his slender fingers at work sketching you, and the sun shining on him just right. You could watch him all day. Xavier of course noticed your staring, secretly basking in your gaze. He noticed everything. His signature smirk found its way onto his face, “Done staring?”

Your mouth fell agape, cheeks flushed at the embarrassment of being caught, “Shut up.” The brunette only grinned wider in response. You cleared your throat collecting yourself, “Are you finally done?” Xavier simply nodded, beckoning you to come look at his sketch. He looked away, suddenly shy as you gasped in response to his artwork. It was stunning, his line work was precise capturing your entire essence, the shadows in his work adding depth to your face. It was perfect. You looked over at the suddenly shy boy, your hand cupping his narrow chin, gently guiding him to look at you. “Xavier Thorpe,” he loved it when you said his name, “you have truly out done yourself. This is perfect.” A soft smile graced his face, “Really?” You held eye contact with his green eyes, “Really.” His lanky arms snaked around your waist pulling you closer from where he sat, “It’s all thanks to my muse.” Your breath hitched from the close proximity, internally cursing yourself as you reminded yourself it was only a friendship. But you found yourself desperately craving more.

A playful grin breaks out on your lips, “Oh yeah? You better be grateful!” Thorpe smirks in return, “I can find better ways to show my gratitude.” The two of you dangerously dangled over the lines of friendship and romance, your heart beating sickeningly quick. Your voice dropped to a soft whisper as you cupped his face, “Then show me.” Xavier lets out a groan at your words, craving you just as desperately. Unbeknownst to you, Thorpe’s had his eyes on you the moment you walked into Thornhill’s class, kicking out Ajax from his seat as you scanned the room lost. “You have no idea how much that means to me.” The long haired brunette leaned in capturing your lips in a kiss you were more than happy to return. His arms pulling you flush against him as he guided you onto his lap straddling him. As you kissed, one of your hands travelled to his hair tugging gently as he whined into your mouth. You took a mental note of course.

You pulled away to catch your breath but, Xavier wasn’t quite done with you yet. His lips trailed down from yours, moving to your jaw and onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder sucking harsh enough to leave a mark as you groaned beneath him before soothing it with a kiss. You were gasping against him as he marked your neck over and over before he met your lips again. There was no fight for dominance as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, that boy would honestly let you do anything to him. You ran your hands through his hair once more as he groaned until the two of you finally pulled away. You gave him one more peck, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Xavier raises his eyebrows smirking slightly, “Oh yeah? You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that!” You grin, “Winner gets a kiss.” He pulls you closer staring at your lips, “Can’t argue with that.”