#i do have an idea i want to draw so many i’ll start it next week but idk

[pnsteblnme]

tattoos together ✿ g.s.

pairing: georgia stanway x reader

summary: georgia gets her first tattoo, even if it doesn't go according to her plan.

warning: none i think? just my writing :o

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i got this request a couple days ago, i hope you enjoy it!

you can find part two here :)

“Welcome in, how can I…,” removing your gaze from the sketch you were about to put away, your eyes connected with pools of glistening honey, irises swirling like sweet nectar. Feeling yourself drowning in the warm haze of brown, your breath getting caught in your throat and your mouth opening, you shook yourself out of your daze, “…help you.”

Flinching after your last words came out embarrassingly breathless, you sent an awkward smile that turned into a real one when the blonde girl looked at you with nothing but kindness, “Hey, I had an appointment for today.”

You scanned the calendar on the desk in front of you, “Georgia, right?”

Nodding her head, said girl let her eyes travel over your form as you stood up. She couldn’t help but study the intricate tattoos that adorned your arms, wanting to trace them and longing to discover their meanings. The initial apprehension about getting her first tattoo diminished as she admired yours, thinking that if yours looked this immaculate, she wouldn’t have to worry.

Another thing that calmed her uneasiness was not only the very attractive welcoming artist but also the atmosphere of the room.

Unlike many other tattoo shops with a rather gloomy and dark-esque appearance, this one felt like reconnecting with an old friend.

The soft scratching of Cindy Lauper’s ‘Time After Time’ coming from the boxes next to a vinyl collection in the left corner filled her ears. Sunbeams bestowed the room with a glow as orange as marigolds blooming in the late spring and the candles lit on the windowsill filled the air with a vanilla scent.

White walls were decked with hundreds of sketches varying in size and drawing style, most in black and white with a few colourful specks in between.

The wooden front desk harmonised perfectly with the brown leather seat to the left of the room, as well as the stems of the numerous plants that were scattered all around.

Comfort.

That was the only word that came to Georgia’s mind when she finished looking around, feeling the knot in her gut loosen and her stiff shoulders relax.

“What can I do for you?”

Pools of honey meeting the ocean, the blonde girl smiled, “I want to get a tattoo!”

“Well, then you’re at the right place,” you chuckled teasingly, the corners of your mouth turning up.

Seeing Georgia rolling her eyes, you continued, “Do you have an idea of what you want, or would you like some inspiration?”

“I think I know what I want,” thoughts running through her mind at a hundred miles per hour making her unsure once more.

Watching the woman twiddle the rings on her fingers, you send her an encouraging smile, “Okey dokey, if you’d take a seat in that chair over there, I’ll get my stuff and we can get started.”

Georgia shuffled to the left with her hands slightly shaking, not knowing if the cause of that were the gleaming smiles sent her way or rather the fact that she was about to permanently mark her skin.

“So, what would you like me to do?” you questioned as you rolled towards her with your chair, putting on your gloves and setting up everything you needed on the tray next to the woman.

Taking out her phone, tapping a few times and turning the screen in your direction, she replied, “Could you do this one?”

On her phone screen, you could see a small, delicate ghost, your mind instantly jumping to all the customers that had gotten two of them tattooed as a tribute to their favourite song.

“Of course, where do you want it?”

“Here,” she pointed to a spot on her left forearm.

Nodding your head, you quickly but neatly drew the ghost onto a white paper, before asking her if the drawing was according to her idea. When you got a positive response, you put the carbon paper under your sketch and went over the lines again, the ink sticking to the back of your drawing.

You swiftly put antiseptic on her arm and hovered the paper over her skin, “Right here?” She wordlessly moved her head up and down once more and you gently pressed it down before removing it after a few seconds, leaving behind the temporary ink in the form of a ghost.

“Okay, are you ready?”

Georgia could hear her heartbeat in her ears, a lump forming in her throat, that she almost audibly gulped down, a breathless exhale escaped her mouth, “I think so, yeah.”

After turning on the needle and noticing her jump a little at the buzzing that sizzled through the air, you tried to comfort her the best you could, with the most reassuring look you could muster.

When you neared her arm though and she started squirming in her seat, you pulled back and reached for her hand resting on the chair, which was holding the brown leather in a tight grip, her knuckles turning white, “Is everything all right?”

Both of you ignoring the tingles that shot through your bodies when your hands touched, a shaky sigh left Georgia’s lips, “I’m just nervous, this is my first time getting a tattoo and I just don’t know how any of this works or if this hurts and I don’t want to do something I’ll regret,” she let out in one big breath.

“There’s no need to worry, you can go home and see what it’s like with the tattoo and when it comes off and you decide that you don’t want it, that’s totally fine,” you told her with warm eyes, “and if you do like it, that’s fine too, you can come back and we can do it whenever you want, whenever you’re ready.”

Feeling like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders after your words, Georgia’s mind slowed down a bit, allowing her to gather her thoughts, “But I don’t want to be a wuss now and regret it as soon as I get home.”

Not being able to stop the words tumbling out of her mouth, the blonde shared her inner conflict, “Like on the one side I really want this but on the other, I’m afraid it’s not the right thing, you know?”

Letting the statement run through the air for a moment, your eyes ran over her face, “Can I say something?”

“Sure, go on,” Georgia confirmed, her hands starting to twist her rings again.

“I think that it’s better to look back on your life and say ‘I can’t believe I did that’ than to look back and say ‘I wish I did that,” you explained before taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express your thoughts, “Life shouldn’t be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely, but one that should be lived to the fullest, even if it means being worn out in the end. One where you embrace every moment, take risks, I don’t know, dance in the rain with your favourite people, even if you get weird looks from everyone else.”

After not getting a response from the blonde after a few beats, you realised that maybe your words didn’t make as much sense as they did in your head and continued, “What I’m trying to say is that twenty years from now, you’ll be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the things you did do. I can’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, but I know that life isn’t meant to be lived perfectly, it’s merely meant to be lived. Boldly, uncertainly, imperfectly, kindly, however you want to, just don’t let fear take that choice away from you.”

Somehow, the words that had left your lips with the sunlight sparkling in your eyes and a passion coating your voice drew the blonde further into the spell you had mysteriously put on her, leaving her speechless, until you let out an awkward chuckle, hand scratching the back of your neck, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to give this big ass monologue.”

Feeling a laugh bubbling up inside of her and forgetting her rapid heartbeat for a moment, she shook her head, “No, no, don’t apologise, I mean, you did kind of sound like my Nan, but it was still great.”

When she heard the melodious sound of your laughter, she knew she was a goner, butterflies dancing around her stomach and warmth crawling its way through her whole body.

You took the missing statement about her tattoo as her still being uncertain, “We can start with something smaller if you’re not sure about the ghost.”

Still being faced with an apprehensive look, you took off your left glove, quickly spraying a bit of antiseptic onto the inside of your wrist, before turning the needle on and guiding it over your skin, “Look, it doesn’t even hurt.”

Brown eyes widened, rosy lips parted, a flabbergasted look crossed her face, “Jesus Christ, what did you do?!”

Wiping over the ink once more, you turned your wrist towards her, a cheeky smile resting on your lips that resembled the one of the smiley face you now had resting on your left arm, “Tada!”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just did that,” the shock was still palpable in her voice, “Won’t you regret that though?”

You put away the needle and turned to face the girl on the brown chair, shaking your head, “I almost never regret anything, because I believe that every little detail of your life is what made you into who you are.”

“Deep down you’re actually a wise old man, aren’t you?” questioned Georgia with a raised eyebrow, your laughter filling the room once more.

“Maybe so,“ you shrugged your shoulders, “but back to you and don’t try to change the subject!”

“I can give you one of these little dudes if you want?” pointing to the ink that you’d just put on your arm.

“It’s not very big, so you can see what it feels like and we’d be matching, so you’ll always remember the wise old man that gave you your first tattoo.”

This time, the chuckles that rang through the room came from the blonde, “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do, like I said, you can always go home.”

With affirmation in her voice, Georgia declared, “I’m sure!”

“Great, let’s do this,” you put your glove back on, disinfected her left wrist and grabbed the needle from the tray, before turning it on.

When you felt her right hand gripping your left one with a tight grip, you squeezed it, hoping to at least bring her some comfort as you began the procedure.

After tracing the last line, you wiped away the residue and turned everything off before raising your head to meet the pools of honey watching your every move, “See, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

If the way the corners of Georgia’s lips turned upwards was anything to go by, you had your answer, feeling elated about her reaction, even without getting an answer from the girl.

Not noticing that you were waiting for a response, she gazed at the tiny smiley face resting on the inside of her left wrist, that would forever remind her of this day. Suddenly, she felt at ease, something that hadn’t even crossed her mind when she initially thought about getting her first tattoo. She couldn’t explain it, but something about the way you listened to her and tried to support her through this process, overall your gentle nature, made her feel like she was walking on fluffy pink clouds.

“Thank you so much,” Georgia breathed out with a heavy voice.

“No problem! If I ever see you again, I hope it's with more of those, I think it’d suit you very well.”

Lowering her head, praying to god that you couldn’t see the heat that rushed to her cheeks, she mumbled a shy ‘thanks’ before asking you how much she had to pay.

Your answer only intensified the red hue of her face, “Don’t worry about it, I like contributing to the gay panic everyone will have when they see you with tattoos.”

Stammering a final ‘thank you’ and sending you what should’ve been a thankful look but turned out to be more of a blushing grimace, she made her way to the door.

When she tried to push the door though, the flustered mess that was Georgia realised too late that she should’ve pulled on it instead, her head connecting with the glass with a dull thud.

The sound of stifled giggles filled her ears as you held your hand in front of your mouth, trying to stop them from escaping. You couldn’t help but think that this was one of the most adorable things you’ve ever witnessed. The blonde turned to you, face beet red, slender fingers raising in an awkward wave as she hastily opened the door, almost tripping on her way out before half sprinting out of your eyesight.

Two days later, your mood instantly brightened when you saw who had stepped into your store.

“Back for some more wisdom from the old man?” you jested, a playful smirk resting on your face.

Georgia playfully put a hand on her chest and let out a big sigh, “I just don’t know what to do with my life without your wise words.”

Dropping her faux sad demeanour, she walked towards the front desk, where you were drawing something she couldn’t make out, “Well lucky for you, I just discovered my new favourite quote!”

You cleared your throat as if preparing for a big speech and started as serious as you could, “‘They whispered to her ’you can’t withstand the storm’,” pausing dramatically for a few seconds, “‘She whispered back ’I am the storm’.”

“Wow, I don’t… I don’t know what to say, I’m just- I mean that’s so inspiring,” stuttered Georgia, wiping away a fake tear with her hand.

Dropping her sad demeanour, she sent you a grin, “I’m ready for the ghost now!”

“Seriously? That’s amazing!” you exclaimed, clapping your hands together and rocking on the balls of your feet.

Walking her over to the leather chair, the conversation between you flowed easily, like a message in a bottle slowly but surely reaching its designated shore, making it feel like no time had passed when you finished the tattoo.

This time, Georgia left the store with a ghost adorning her left arm and an even wider smile on her face, as she was able to avoid embarrassment during her departure.

“I mean, not that I’m complaining, but you know that you can get multiple tattoos done in one day, right?” you questioned her, raising your eyebrow teasingly.

Seeing her head dropping and the way she started rocking on her feet while twiddling the rings on her fingers, you felt your stomach drop, thinking that you had said something wrong.

Before you could open your mouth to apologise, you were interrupted by Georgia muttering something under her breath. You strained your ears to make out the words but failed miserably.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?”

The girl let out a nervous sigh and muttered again, “I know, but I still need to figure out how to get a grip and ask you out.”

Butterflies danced around in your stomach, making you grin like a fool, “Well then make as many appointments as you need,” you sent a wink her way.

That day she left with a game of noughts and crosses on her shoulder and a newfound determination to ask you out. Her walk home was filled with a million thoughts running through her head, asking the street lights if it would work out in the end.

The next day she showed up at your store with a bouquet of beautifully blooming flowers in her hand, sweating buckets, hoping you couldn’t tell just how nervous she was.

Your cheeks hurt from not being able to stop grinning like a cheshire cat, as you excitedly accepted her offer.

If anyone were to walk through the door, they would be met with two hearts rapidly beating and two smiles lighting up the entire room.

[film-bro-hotch]

I Can See You - Hotch x Fem!Reader (one-shot)

I have had the idea for this one-shot ever since this song came out, and I wrote it in the middle of the night in an attempt to stay up and fight jetlag. This is going to be posted quite literally as I am in the airport about to move to a foreign country, so please enjoy.

Summary: You and Hotch start something outside of work that slowly starts to make its way into your on-the-clock time in more risky ways. Based on I Can See You by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: smut 18+, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, workplace relationships (?) but like in the most disruptive way possible

WC: 2k

'Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall from me And I could see you up against the wall with me And what would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you

The past three months had been filled with what everyone assumed to be the mundane, typical occurrences of amicable coworkers. Passing of paper, catching glances of him from across the room during a briefing, occasionally brushing polyester suit jackets against each other in the elevator. They were insignificant. Or at least that is what everyone thought.

It’s what you wanted them to see. And to be completely honest, it’s what you thought at first too. Why would you possibly think your older, recently divorced boss would be interested in you?

Yet here you were on the BAU jet after a case. He was sitting next to you, both working on some paperwork to officially close the case you had just been working on. You couldn't remember a specific detail from the case. 

“Hey, Hotch, how many rounds of ammo did this guy have in his basement again?” “Enough I think he was doomsday prepping. Local PD was still getting an accurate number when we were leaving. I’ll call them when we land.” His tone was nonchalant enough, you really didn’t think much of it. 

An hour later you were at your desk, getting ready to pack up when he came by, close enough that he was brushing your shoulder. He had picked up a pen from your desk and wrote the number down on your documents.

Odd moments like this kept happening. Sometimes he would lean a little closer than usual to show you one of the various drawings Jack made that he had stuck on the fridge. When you asked him for help on some grueling paperwork, your shoulders often touched. You would go to turn in administrative work and instead of putting it in the designated basket on his desk, you handed it directly to him, his fingers brushing yours. If you looked close enough, you could have sworn you saw his ears go a little red.

No one had said anything yet, which filled you partly with relief. Emily and JJ not saying anything was normal. They may be profilers, but they were both pretty good at keeping their noses out of their coworkers’ business. Who wasn’t so good at that was Penelope. If anyone was going to catch on to it, it would be her. And she would say something to you.

The fact that she hadn’t made you feel a little crazy. Were you really just reading too much into things? Were you projecting? 

That was until one day after everyone was gone, he asked you to dinner.

You said yes, of course, though partly in the back of your head you wondered if it was more of a friendly coworker ‘well, we are both off and have nothing else to do’ dinner date than a date date. Any concerns of that were crushed when at the door of your apartment he kissed you. You had imagined his lips a few times already, thin and usually in some kind of disapproving frown. They were soft against yours, and you could feel the gentle scratch of his stubble on your chin. 

When he pulled away, you expected maybe a form of regret, a look that read ‘what have I done?’ Instead, he just looked hungry for more.

“I know I shouldn’t have,” he says.

“But you did.” And so you gave him more. You both tumbled into your apartment. Your hands were in his hair, his hand was grabbing your ass as he continued to kiss you. You remember making it to the bed, and you remember that he spent the night at your place that night.

After that, work with Aaron looked much like it had the past few months. Business as usual with only stolen moments of tenderness, when your hands touched, his calloused fingers brushed yours for just a moment as he handed you a report and asked you to turn it in at 5:00 before you went home. You didn’t let the team catch the way your eyes linger on him for just a moment longer than what was socially appropriate for co-workers, how your gaze went from his eyes to his lips, usually pressed in a thin line. No one saw how in that cramped elevator, the last part of your morning commute, he would sometimes get closer, let one finger from the hand holding his briefcase curl with your pinkie. 

That had been the two of you for the last three months. Professional. You just weren’t sure how much longer you could take professional.

It started out simple enough. You were in his office for a legitimate reason. JJ had been out sick and as the only other person with a communication background, her work fell on you, though you didn’t mind. You were there to hand him a stack of briefings for potential cases, and as he started to flip through them, you casually slipped a hand on top of his thigh, your fingers curling towards his inner thigh, your thumb rubbing circles against the fabric of his pants. You could feel his pulse rise, his sharp intake of breath, see his eyes dart straight toward his door, the blinds that were open. There was a certain thrill in the danger of being caught. “What?” you asked coyly. “Scared of being found out?” “I’m not-it’s not that.” He was flustered. “We are at work. And your hands are cold.”

“Oh, I am very aware,” you said, abruptly pulling your hand from his and standing straight. “JJ should be back tomorrow, but if you have any other questions on these, just let me know,” you said, continuing on like you hadn’t just turned his face red with a touch or given him an awful boner in the middle of work.

Later that week, you had left your desk to give yourself one more cup of coffee considering you knew you would be working later than usual to finish up some details on a file. You usually go down the hall and sneak into another department’s kitchen to use a couple flavoring syrups. Passing a nook, you felt a hand grab you and pull you back, another hand settling on your lower back as Hotch pulled you into a kiss. Your surprised grunt was muffled by his lips, his teeth nearly busting your lips when they crashed into you. 

“What the hell are you doing?” you breathed. “We are at work.”

“This is the only place on this floor besides a janitor's closet that isn’t on camera. And I didn’t exactly think cleaning chemicals gave the most romantic mood.” He said it completely seriously, like he had actually given this thought. 

“Wait, how did you know I was even going to be here?”

“You always get a second cup when you are planning to stay past 5:00. And you never get coffee from the BAU’s kitchen. You go down the hall to data science because they have better variety. I just happened to take a break right before you went for a refill, and I happened to be in the one corner that cameras don’t reach.” His tone was matter-of-fact, like he was reading from a textbook rather than the romantic declaration that he actually paid attention to your habits. 

“It’s really hot when you pay attention, you know,” you said, reaching up for another kiss, but Hotch pulled back. 

“Got to get back to work,” he said, the edge of his lips curled into a know, shit-eating grin. Bastard.

The tipping point came nearly a month later. The two of you had been at this little game ever since, trying to see who could make the other the most flustered, and things were getting progressively more risky. The closest call so far had been when you two thought you were the only ones left for the day, but Morgan had come back to grab his thermos he had left on his desk.

On this day, you were working at your desk when Aaron called you into his office. It wasn’t an occurrence, but something did start to feel off when he asked you to shut the door.

“Lock it for good measure,” he added, moving quite close to you to shut the blinds.

You hardly got his name out of your mouth before he kissed you, nearly banging your body against the door, which clearly would have alerted someone. You found your hand intuitively going around his neck, one cradling his cheek as he kissed you. “What the hell are you doing?” you finally were able to ask between breathless pants.

“You’re driving me crazy.”

“I’ve hardly done anything.”

He pulls away then, pointing towards his desk. “We have five minutes before anyone gets suspicious.” You were already ahead of him, pulling him towards his desk, your hands already reaching for his belt. He was eager to help you, unclasping the buckle in one fell swoop. Even through the lining of his pants you could see his bungle. You wondered how long he had been thinking about doing this all day, thinking of you. 

He slid his pants off part of the way, your fingers going to grip him, only his boxer keeping your flesh from touching. He had to be sensitive. Even just the friction from your hand and the fabric made him hum in approval. “If we are going to do this, you are going to need to keep quiet,” you said. Your hands moved from his crotch to his neck, unlacing his tie with ease. Haphazardly bundling it up, you shoved the mess of fabric into his mouth to shut him up.

“Wait,” you heard him say, having removed the makeshift gag. He shook his arms out of his suit jacket, taking the most surely expensive coast and folding it, placing it on the ground. It took you a moment to realize what he was getting out, but you started to understand when he happily put the gag back in his mouth. Kindly, he had made his jacket into a cushion for your knees so you could be comfortable while sucking him off and making him scream. And you planned to do just that.

Your fingers gripped the elastic of his boxers, pulling them down and freeing his dick. Spitting in your hand, you began to run your hand along the length of him, slowly, oh so agonizingly slowly. From the corner of your eye, you could see the way he gripped the edge of his desk, practically begging you to go a little faster, use a little more pressure. You kept up the facade for a bit, listening to his near desperate hums before placing your lips on the tip, running your tongue along it and hearing his muffled groan in response. 

You started to move your hand a little faster, your tongue picking up the place along with it. You loved to see the way his knuckles went white, the way he was gripping the desk for dear life. 

“Please,” you heard his muffled whimper.

“I’m sorry, dear, what was that?” you asked from your position below him.

Quickly, he ripped out his gag, one hand still gripping the desk as he said, “For the love of god, please stop tormenting me.”

You were happy to oblige him, beginning to move your hand up and down as well as flicking your tongue along his tip, feeling the muscles in his thigh and his abdomen tense and clench before he finally released. At the last second, he muffled his cry with the tie, nearly sinking back into the desk as you wiped himself from your lips.

Standing and brushing your knees off, you motioned to the door. “Put your pants on so I can get the hell out of here and hope no one noticed.”

He took a moment to compose himself, tucking his shirt back in and trying his best to straighten out his tie. He opened the blinds and unlocked the door, sending you on your way with a simple, “Please make sure those are on my desk before the end of the day.” 

You were certain he was planning on returning the favor.

[makethatelevenrings]

Day 12: Phone Sex w/ Roy Kent

Kinktober Masterlist

“Hi.”

You huffed out a laugh at the placid greeting and settled back against the pillows propped up against the headboard. The soft cotton of Roy’s old sweatshirt brushed against your skin and you relished in the enveloping scent of him.

“Hi big guy. Good game out there.”

“Fucking cold,” he grunted. “Pretty sure my dick had reverted and is fucking my lungs.”

A startled laugh escaped you and you shook your head. Such a poet.

“Well, you looked good. Wish I was there to warm you up.”

He sighed. “Fucking wish you were here too, love. This bed is too empty.”

“Only two more nights. We’ve survived longer than that.”

“I know. I’m still going to bitch about it.”

“I would be concerned if you didn’t.”

Silence met you, but you weren’t worried. It was common for the two of you to fall asleep with the phone line still open. After sleeping next to one another for so many years, even the presence of Roy over the crackly phone line settled something in your chest.

“What are you wearing?” His gruff voice had a hint of teasing to it and you chuckled, fingering the hem of his sweatshirt.

“Your old Sunderland crew,” you answered honestly. “And no pants.”

He groaned, low and deep and pleased. “Bet you look like a right fucking treat.”

“I look like a mess. I’ve been cleaning the house all afternoon.”

“What I’d give to be home right now. I’d bend you over the island and fuck you right there.”

Heat rushed through your veins at the thought and you hummed. “Yeah? The idea of me wearing your clothes gets you that hard?”

He chuckled. “Love, the idea of you wearing my clothes makes me want to hop onto the next flight.”

You parted your legs and slid your hand down your stomach, over the soft hair on your navel, and down, down, down to slide across the growing wet patch on your underwear. You whimpered at the light brush and Roy let out an appeasing grunt.

“Touching yourself, aren’t you? That’s it, sweet girl. You deserve this. Working so hard when I’m not home. Wish I was there to take care of you.”

“Roy…” You started to rub slow circles over your clit, your lips parting in a broken moan. “God, Roy. I wish you were here.”

His voice was further from the phone now and you suspected he had put you on speaker. The sound of a bottle opening met your ears and your breathing hitched as you realized what he was doing. What you would give to see him right now. A sheen of sweat clinging to his tanned skin, muscles flexing as he reached down to grasp his hard cock, and perfect hands stroking himself… the idea made your clit throb.

“I’d throw it all away if it meant staying at home with you forever,” he murmured. Roy inhaled deeply and you could hear the slick sound of his lube covered hand sliding along his shaft. “I’d give it all up if it meant seeing you everyday.”

“Come home, baby. I’ll meet you at the door and wear your old jersey. You’d like that, you possessive caveman. Your name, your ring, your cum on me.”

He groaned and you could hear his speed pick up. “Yeah. Fuck yeah. I’d cum all over those pretty little tits of yours. Lick it off of you and then fill up your pretty little cunt.”

You increased your pressure and whined. “Fill me up, Roy. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Such a dirty mouth on you. If you mouthed off, I’d have to gag you on my cock.”

“Yeah? You’d choke me on your big dick?”

His breathing hitched and he let out that rough whine you loved so much. You loved having this power over him. Roy gasped out a heaving breath and then finally spoke once more.

“I’d take you to our room and fuck you into the mattress until the only word you could say was my name.” You whimpered as the knot of pleasure in your gut started to tighten. “And then I’d draw you a bath and take care of you. Because you’re the love of my life, darling, and I find myself so lucky and grateful to be able to come home to a woman like you.”

Fuck. You should not be tearing up at the same time as your orgasm charged through you. A whiny exhale left you as pleasure washed over your muscles until the contractions stopped and you were able to relax against the mattress.

“I love you, Mr. Kent,” you whispered into the phone.

“I love you too, Mrs. Kent.”

“Two days.”

“Fuck that. I’m throwing the game and coming home to you right now.”

You barked out a laugh and shook your head. “No the fuck you are not. I’ve got money on you fuckers.”

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

Hello! I'm back with another chapter of my Feyd-Rautha/Reader arranged marriage series.

AO3 link here for full fic: And I Don't Want Your Heart - Chapter 5 - ooihcnoiwlerh - Dune (2021) [Archive of Our Own]

Side post that has some of my headcanons for how I interpret Feyd-Rautha's own relationship to his sexuality: Hello, Friend - So I've been working on a Feyd-Rautha/Reader... (tumblr.com)

This fic and this chapter are 18+ up only. Tags, content warning, and full chapter below the cut

Tags/CW list: rape/noncon; graphic depictions of violence; dubious consent; arranged marriage; forced pregnancy; nature versus nurture; implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced sexual assault; implied/referenced incest; first time; rough sex; oral sex; vaginal sex; vaginal fingering; blood kink; pain kink; sadomasochism; period sex; problematic smut; inappropriate misuse of BDSM; slow burn emotionally but the exact opposite of a slow burn phyiscally

CHAPTER FOUR: A BLOODY GASH

You're fertile.  You’ve never had any reason to believe otherwise.  This union is contingent on giving him children–at least one son, and as many attempts as necessary to get there ( and you desperately hope that you’ll only need that first one.  You don’t want to raise a daughter in this place, amongst these people .)

So you’re horrified when you wake up the following morning to blood smeared between your legs, staining your chemise that rode up to your hips when you were sleeping, and leaving a smear on the sheets below when you move.

No.  No.  You pull up the hem of your chemise and stare at your inner thighs as if just looking will change the outcome.  Feyd-Rautha came inside of you four times in two days for nothing .  He’ll be furious.  He’ll question your very biology.  He’ll have you examined as thoroughly and cruelly as possible.

You scramble, trying to cover yourself, wondering what you can even do next when Idrisa comes in with fresh water and coffee.

To her credit, she doesn't drop the tray when her eye line goes directly to your bleeding crotch for the few seconds it’s still visible.

“I knew my time for it was coming up, I just didn't think it would,” you say to yourself as much as her and come to meet her gaze.

She glances back down out of respect, but the awkward tension hangs between the two of you for a moment.

“Do you…” you start, embarrassment flushing your face and neck, “do you have anything for it?”  You have no idea how menstrual care even works on Geidi Prime.  You’d just assumed that it wouldn’t be an issue for another ten months.

She composes herself again immediately.  “Why yes, of course, Na-Baroness.  I apologize for my negligence.”  Before you can tell her there's nothing to apologize for, she adds, “I'll help you get cleaned up first.”

“That’s alright, I can do it,” you tell her as you wonder for a moment who she served before that she’d assume you want her to clean between your legs when you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself.

She inclines her head further.  “Thank you, Na-Baroness.  I’ll be back in just a moment.”  

As soon as she’s out the door you’re up and walking briskly to the bathroom. 

You’ll need to have the sheets changed.

It’s only been two days, you think, washing between your legs.  This doesn’t mean anything bad .  When he asks for you, you can just explain the situation and try again in a few days.  Until then…until then…   For a moment you draw a blank, before remembering a conversation you had a few years ago with a slightly older friend when you asked her if husbands still desired their wives when their wives were bleeding.

“ They honestly just want something warm, soft, and wet to bury themselves in, ” she’d told you matter-of-factly.  “ So most men just use their wife’s mouths .”

“ What do you mean? ” you’d asked, fairly certain you had an idea what she was talking about but still more willing to briefly embarrass yourself by asking than remain ignorant.

“ You know what goes on between a man’s legs, right? ” she’d asked in turn.

“ Of course ,” you’d said, a little offended that she’d think you so naive. 

“ When you’re bleeding and he still wants you to please him, put your mouth there instead, ” she’d told you.  “ Like he’s burying himself inside your mouth instead of your canal.  You can’t make babies that way, of course, but they often don’t care about that .   You can’t really make babies during your monthly courses anyway. ”

You wonder how she reacted when she found out who you’d be marrying.  You never got the chance to ask and assume, like many young women and their parents, that she was relieved that she wasn’t the one hand-picked for him. 

You also haven’t done that to him yet, nor any other man, for that matter, and you’re sure your lack of skill will show.  How are you meant to take the entire thing in your mouth when you can barely fit it where it’s meant to go?  What are you supposed to do with your teeth?  It also just seems somehow more daunting and personal than just having inside of you in the traditional manner.  

He’ll be aggressive with it, like he is in everything else. 

You can’t stop thinking about it as you brush your teeth and hair and try to ignore the discomfort in your lower belly before you hear a click and the door to your quarters opening.

Idrisa’s back with a basket made of some kind of black synthetic material; it’s covered to protect its contents from passing view.  You could kiss her for that, you think, and she starts unpacking.

She pulls out what look like thick handkerchiefs, going to your bathroom to stack them neatly on the countertop.  She also hands you a canister that you open to find a handful of circular tablets.

“They’re not as strong as what I left for your wedding night,” she says, “and they won’t put you to sleep, but they should suffice if you need them.”

You’d chalked up your cramps to nerves but now that you have your answer the symptoms couldn’t have been more obvious.  “Thank you, I think I will,” you tell her as you think about how you’ll likely be expected to join your new family, if one could call them that, for breakfast again.  The thought makes you want to crawl back under the covers.

“Can you also please tell Feyd-Rautha that I apologize for missing breakfast but that I'm feeling unwell this morning and wouldn't want to be poor company in my condition?” you ask.

Idrisa hesitates, nervous.  You realize that she's thinking, You know that your husband finds me far more disposable than he finds you, right?  He could easily kill and replace me and no one would care.  You also realize that she can’t and won’t say no to you.  But just that look reminds you that as frightening as this fortress is to you, it’s much worse for her.  You haven’t seen Feyd-Rautha kill outside of the arena yet, but you also barely know him; killing people who displease him over minor inconveniences, especially if they’re low-born and low-ranking, could be a common occurrence for him.  The Harkonnens didn’t earn their reputation for nothing.

“Unless you think they won't notice if I’m even there,” you add, thinking.  The Baron couldn't care less if he never has a conversation with you again, and outside of the marriage bed, Feyd-Rautha doesn't appear to have any real plans for you.  “I could just…stay here and if Feyd-Rautha has any questions he can ask them.”

Idrisa’s shoulders had been locked and tense but appear to relax just a little at your words.  “I can make a plate for you and bring it back here,” she says, already knowing your preference.  Given Geidi Prime’s incredible wealth and lack of natural resources other than fuels and metals there are imported fruits that you’d never had before coming here that you’re certain you’ll never get sick of.

“Sounds perfect, thank you,” you tell her, and take advantage of the new medication when she leaves.

When she returns with another tray for you, she’s accompanied by two other girls holding a fresh arrangement of sheets; the hems and necklines of their garb are cut a little different from hers and they look younger, perhaps the same age as your little sister.  You wonder if the difference in the way they’re dressed suggests rank?  They keep their heads down and don’t acknowledge you other than a silent curtsy before stripping your old sheets and setting down a new spread.  You look at them for a moment, wondering if it’s at the Baron’s insistence that no staff ever look a Harkonnen royal in the eye or if this rule’s been going on for generations when Idrisa snaps you out of your thoughts.

“I have a tea prepared for you as well, Na-Baroness,” she says, gesturing towards the tray that she’s set on your end-table and removing the cloche covering your plate.  “It’s not medicine strictly speaking but it has soothing properties.”

You turn and look at her.  She doesn’t look much older than you, but the same can be said of most of the female slaves.  Are they banished to where they won’t be easily seen when they reach a certain age?  What’s the life expectancy?  It feels more than a little insensitive to ask right now, so you just let them work as you take a seat at your end-table and take a sip of your tea.

After breakfast is over and you’ve found a comfortable position sitting up in bed, propped up by the pillows and headboards, you read a bit more on the Harkonnen lineage.  The more you read, the more you understand why Father always insisted that Geidi Prime is no place for a woman.  Women in high places, you find, have in history been assassinated more often than the men, or kidnapped to use as collateral and tortured.  You wonder if that’s why you saw so few at the wedding and reception, why they seemed so hidden out of view even while accompanying their high-ranking husbands.

You’re reasonably certain that your new husband’s concerned enough with his image as heir to the Harkonnen throne not to tarnish the alliance your marriage has created, that even if he doesn’t really know you and may never love you–you’re reasonably certain that he’s incapable of feeling such an emotion–he’ll still make sure to protect what he sees as his.  His uncle will likely be another story.  

The door opens unannounced and you look up, expecting Idrisa only to find Feyd-Rautha letting himself in without a word and closing the door behind him.  He doesn’t speak at first, but everything in his demeanor tells you that he did in fact notice your absence and wants an explanation.

You compose yourself.  There’s no need to panic.  “Good afternoon, husband.  To what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask, tone as light and cool as the weather would be on your home planet right now. 

He leans against the door as he folds his arms across his chest and looks you over.  “I missed you at breakfast,” he says.

“Yes, my apologies.  I’m not feeling well,” you tell him.  

He clearly doesn’t believe you.  You don’t seem feverish , he seems to think with his unimpressed gaze.  You seem fine .  “Still getting adjusted to the atmosphere on Geidi Prime?” he asks, and for a foolish moment you hope that he’s giving you an excuse.  Maybe he thinks you’re avoiding him because of last night, and you’re content to let him think that.

“Yes, husband,” you tell him.  

“That’s a shame,” he says, crossing over to your bed and sitting at the edge of it.  “It occurred to me last night that whoever taught you close-range maneuvers didn’t do their job right.  You should’ve been able to evade me.”

You wrinkle your brow and don’t have it in you to hide your insulted glare; your House’s military is considered a force to be reckoned with and a slight against your training is a slight against your House and your father himself.  “Did you want me to evade you?” you ask.

He seems amused by your sudden sharpness, and you realize that he’d wanted to hit a nerve.  He knew what he was implying and got the precise reaction he’d been hoping for.  “That’s not the point, wife.  You said yourself that you were out of practice and as soon as you’re feeling better I intend to rectify that.  Your cute little boot-dagger won’t serve you any good if you can’t correctly use it.”  

He places his hand on your leg, trailing it along your thigh and stopping just shy of your apex, his thumb brushing against it through the fabric of your skirt.  You give a sharp inhale that makes him smile.  You start to close your legs but his hand, now cupping your inner thigh, holds one open enough for him to continue to fondle as he pleases.

His hand stays there for a moment, stays over the light material of your skirt even as you're sure the soft flesh of your inner thigh heats his palm, as flushed as you feel under his touch.  He leans in, inhales as he leans over you and sniffs your hair.  It’s not even the first time he’s done it.  You wonder if he finds your hair to be a sort of forbidden fruit; something he can’t say he likes because to do so would disrespect Harkonnen hairlessness, but still something he finds fascinating or even enviable.  You’re not sure yet whether his lack of it is down to genetics or grooming but you assume the former, if it affects everyone including those who wouldn’t have such prime access to constant shaving.

But then he fully brings his hand between your legs, fingertips rubbing up against you and you flinch.  

Now?  Is he going to try and fuck me right here and now?   You shift, trying to hide what you’re sure is a look of panic on your face, trying to scramble for an excuse as Feyd-Rautha rubs a whimper out of you.

In the moments he does and you freeze, he watches your face a moment longer and then something shifts in his eyes, and he pulls back.

“I’ll call on you soon,” he says.  There’s something satisfied, almost smug in his tone.  He doesn’t wait for a response from you before he gets up and leaves, and you wonder what caused his departure.

Idrisa comes in a minute later with more tea for you.  “The Na-Baron seems mollified,” she says.  “He’s taken the news well.”

“I didn’t tell him.”

You catch Idrisa furrowing her brow-line, incredulous even with her head bowed before she can smooth over her expression into one of polite indifference.

“He doesn’t need to know yet,” you tell her.  “He said he’d call on me later.”

“My apologies for speaking boldly, Na-Baroness,” she says, “but the Na-Baron will still take you to bed tonight or whenever he decides is convenient.  Harkonnen men expect their wives to always be available to them, no matter how they’re feeling.”

You suppose you already knew this.  It certainly doesn’t help the gnawing feeling in your stomach even as the medicine Idrisa gave you has soothed the cramps for now.  

“It appears I can hold him off until after dinner, at least,” you finally say.  There’s that; you also appreciate having another meal without the Baron’s presence.

You wish you had someone you could talk to about this in which it wouldn’t feel weird to ask.  You look over at Idrisa.  She’s the only friend you’ve managed to make so far and while you don’t see that changing anytime soon, you haven’t forgotten that she keeps you company out of obligation.  You can’t be certain as to whether or not she actually likes you, or if she only tolerates you due to her heightened position within the Harkonnen Fortress as your personal attendant.  Still, she’s certainly better than no one to ask.  She takes your old mug and heads for the door.

“Idrisa,” you start.  She turns.  “You’ve…have you been with men before?”

She inclines her head in a polite nod.  “When it’s required of me,” she says.

Your second question dies in your mouth.  Oh.  Right .  Yet again you’re disgusted but can’t say you’re all that surprised.

And instead of asking for advice you’re struck by another thought.  “Has the Na-Baron ever…?” you start and she immediately shakes her head.

“Never, Na-Baroness,” she assures you.  “He has never been known to satiate himself that way with slaves.”

Are you being honest or telling me what I want to hear? you almost ask but spare her the indignity.  You’re reasonably certain that if Feyd-Rautha had taken advantage of her, he’d have gloated to you about it.  “Thank you,” you tell her.  You don’t want to know how men on Geidi Prime have abused her mouth.  “I was just curious.”

“Not at all, Na-Baroness,” she says.

As the hours tick by you wish you'd just told Feyd-Rautha your situation and gotten whatever awkward ensuing conversation over with.

In the evening Idrisa brings you dinner, more tea, and a glass of wine.  “The Na-Baron has given you two hours before expecting you in his bedchambers.”

You sigh.  “Thank you, Idrisa,” you tell her, not quite willing to add, you were right .  You eat, you have your tea, you bathe and clean your hair.  And in the remaining time that you have before you need to leave, you sip your wine. You’d be foolish to assume that it will truly settle your nerves, but it tastes nice. 

“I guess it’s time,” you say finally, looking at the timepiece on your nightstand.  “How angry do you think he’ll be?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Na-Baroness,” Idrisa says as she opens the door to lead you to your husband.  “He’s never been married nor been instructed to sire an heir before.”

When you get to his bedroom he’s already standing in the middle of it, wearing only black pants with a relaxed fit that suggests leisure, maybe sleep.  And here you hadn’t taken him as the kind of man to own pajamas.

He looks over your shoulder at Idrisa, who seems just as surprised to see him as you are even as she immediately lowers her head in deference.

“Dismissed,” he tells her, and she curtsies and scurries out of the room, closing the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone and rather more dressed than you’ve been in this room.

You stand, awkwardly, playing with the sash to your robe as the two of you look at each other in silence.  Or rather, he stares at you and you look down, knowing what you’d rehearsed and still needing to force the words out.

“My apologies, husband, but it’s my time of month,” you finally manage.

“I know,” he says.  “I could smell it on you.  I could feel your rag in between your legs.”

Was that what he was doing?  You look up at his face and find nothing that you can really parse and pause, unsure what you could say to that, before you move on.

“I know it’s not ideal, but we can try again in a few days, and in the meantime,” you try to sound like you’re not as nervous as you are, fully aware that seduction was never something you learned, “I know that there are…other ways to satisfy you.”  A few days and we can resume trying to secure your firstborn .  

He gives a small smirk at the second part of your statement but comments only on the first.  “A few days?” he repeats, as if you’ve just said either the funniest or dumbest thing he’s heard all week.  “What makes you think I care to wait a few days?”

You’re not sure you heard him right.  “The blood,” you say slowly.  “I can’t control it.”

“You think a Harkonnen would be scared of a little blood?” he says.

You’re not sure what to say to that.  In hindsight, you’re not sure why you’d assumed that this man of all men would be too squeamish to fuck a bleeding woman.

“Strip down,” he says, after the seconds of silence that follow.  He sounds so casual as he says it, as if he just told you to have a seat.  You hesitate, still unsure if he’s being serious.

“Did you not understand me?” he prompts when seconds tick by and you haven’t moved.

“I do, husband,” say.  “But still, I have to warn you that it’ll make a mess.”

“Y/N,” he says, his tone somehow light.  There’s an element of danger to it.  “You’re not the one who’ll have to clean up afterwards.”

Nor you , you think.  “So you want me in this state.”  You don’t phrase it as a question but he can hear the confusion in your voice.

The smirk never quite left his face but returns in full as he crosses the few steps over to you that leaves you close enough that you can feel his breath.  He takes your wrist and presses your hand to his groin–it’s rapidly filling out.

“What do you think?” he says.

You gasp, almost giving an incredulous laugh as you glance between his face and back down to his groin.  Harkonnen men are built differently, you suppose.  

You pull away enough to unravel your robe and step out of your slippers.  He doesn’t object to your garments being left on his floor instead of neatly tucked on his dresser, so you keep going, pulling your chemise over your shoulders, pulling down your undergarment and letting it slide down your legs, until you’re bared entirely for him.

He looks down at the blood that gathered in the kerchief lining the gusset of your undergarment as it hits the floor and you step out of it, and then he looks back at you.

“Hold your arms out like this, wrists together,” he says, extending his own to demonstrate.

He still doesn’t seem angry, his tone suggesting patience that you know he doesn’t have, but you hesitate before mimicking him.

“Very nice,” he says, and you bristle at his condescension as he half-circles you before heading for his armoire.  You turn around to watch him open it, and your jaw drops when you see what’s inside.

It’s lined with whips, rope, chains, knives, scalpels, collars, and other items you’ve never seen before but if this is in his bedroom then it must serve one particular purpose, either on himself whoever has the misfortune of being with him when he wants to use any of these devices.  

He glances over his shoulder and looks if anything delighted by your stunned reaction, the growing sense of dread.  “I didn’t say you could drop your arms,” he says, and turns back to pick out a length of black rope.

You suppose you ought to be grateful that he didn’t pick out any chains.

You watch as he loops an intricate tie binding your wrists.  He does it with such practiced ease he looks directly into your eyes as he does it.  You manage to hold his gaze in defiance even as your heart hammers in your chest and you’re scared of what’s going to happen next.  You know that, like a true Harkonnen, he likes your fear, but it hasn’t occurred to either of you yet that he also appreciates your fire.

“Get on all fours on the bed, pet,” he says, tone light and playful as much as his gravely timbre can make it.

You try to keep your eyes on him as much as possible, making sure he’s never fully out of your sightline as you get on the bed, squirming but managing to maneuver the position he wants while your wrists are bound.  He knows that you don’t trust him, and if anything that seems to elevate his excitement.  

Good girl, he seems to be thinking.  He looks you over, turning and sauntering so he can take a moment to gaze first at your naked profile, then at your backside.

You have to keep reminding yourself that he won’t do anything that will risk you being able to give him children as he turns away and pads over to his armoire.  For a moment you’re not sure if he’s trying to decide what he’d like to use, or if he’s purposefully biding his time to make you more nervous.  His fingertips seem to dance over the whips, then the chains.  He briefly touches the handle to one of his knives.

Not the scalpel.  Please not the scalpel.

You see it–corded leather.  A black whip with multiple knotted tails.  He takes it down from his display but leaves the armoire doors open–undoubtedly to keep reminding you of what else he could be and very likely will be doing to you in the future.

You think about the Bene Gesserit Litany and try to repeat it in your head as you consider the tool? the weapon? clutched in his fist.  At first glance the whip looks like the cat-of-nine-tails your brother-in-law seems so fond of.  However, when you shut your eyes, take a breath, and think of the words– fear is the mind-killer –you realize when you open your eyes again that what Feyd-Rautha’s holding is a lot smaller than a proper cat-of-nine-tails and the tails thicker.  You have no doubt that this is going to hurt, but it doesn’t look like it will rip you apart.

“What, what is this?  A punishment for bleeding? ” you finally ask, unable to handle the silence anymore and because that’s the only explanation you can imagine.

And yet Feyd-Rautha looks amused that you’d suggest it.  “It’s because I want to use it on you,” he says, as if any further explanation would be silly.  “Ever since I first saw you, I wondered what that pretty ass of yours would look like after I’d taken this to it.”  He holds up the device for emphasis.  “I wondered what noises you’d make.  I wanted to know what you’d look like with your wrists bound, naked and helpless in my bed.  What you’d look like squirming and bleeding.

“ Yesterday was a punishment,” he adds.  “This is just fun.”

For you, perhaps, you think.  It’s no matter; you’ll just have to prove that you can take whatever he dishes out.  You just have to decide whether it’s better or worse that he’s not doing this out of anger. 

“Are you scared, pet?” he asks.

“ No, ” you lie in the most adamant and dignified tone you can muster, and once again he acts like what you’ve said is cute.  He clicks his tongue.

“You mustn’t lie to me in bed, pet,” he says, approaching the bed again, his free hand skimming over your ribcage, your side, your hip, as he finally stands beside the bed, and ever-so-slowly draws the corded whip up and down the backs of your thighs.  The tassels brush gently against your skin and it feels perverse, the anticipation he’s building within you.  On his second pass you inhale sharply, shutting your eyes, hips twitching away from the device, and Feyd-Rautha chuckles at that.

“Relax,” he says.

Fuck you.  You know I can’t.  Just do it and get it over with , you want to tell him with your sharp exhale, and one second later he draws his hand back and brings the whip down.

You cry out, rocking forward, your entire body clenching up as much from shock as pain.  Nothing could really prepare you for this; his hand from the first night had been easier, more personal.  The individual cords spread out like a fractal tree, like cracks in a block of ice fanning out. 

The second time is less sharp, more of a thud that reverberates through your body, the impact reverberating in your pulse.  Tears prick up at the corners of your eyes and for a moment you can’t breathe.  It would figure that this man has used this device often enough that he knows how to inflict different flavors of pain depending on whether he’s putting the movement in his wrist or his forearm.  You clench your fists, waiting for the next lash, and then the next.

Your nerves are on fire.  You can barely think, barely focus on anything but the exquisite pain on impact, the sharp sting of the air against your impacted flesh, the sweet moments you adjust, finding your breath, before he comes down again.  You don’t scream, not after the first blow, but the tears forming at the corners of your eyes start trickling down your face and then drop directly onto your forearms the covers below you when you bow your head.  

You don’t know how long he keeps going, don’t keep count.  The pain starts to dull but the intensity becomes overwhelming as he compounds on every lash.  Your ears are ringing.  You taste iron at the back of your throat.  The worst part is that you find, to your horror, your nipples feel stiff.  You start to feel wet.

It has to be a fear response.  This isn’t enjoyable .  It’s intense, it’s painful, and you can’t help but feel shame lance through you that your body would react this way.

Please.  I can’t take any more , you want to tell him, but opt instead to whimper through your clenched teeth.

At that moment the whip comes down and it sends you toppling forward, finally collapsing.  The covers are soft against your tear-stained cheek.  You shut your eyes, panting, waiting for him to haul you back up and continue the process.

But nothing happens.  You don’t try to look behind you and hope that he’s done.  You just take a rattling breath and listen for the sound of the whip and its tendrils slicing through air, and it doesn’t come.  

“You lasted longer than I thought you would,” Feyd-Rautha says, the first time he’s spoken in minutes, and you open your eyes and  turn your head to see him twist the coils of his whip and head over to the armoire.

“Come on,” he says over his shoulder.  “Back into position, pet.”  

You grit your teeth and force yourself back up on your hands and elbows.  “Good,” he adds softly, and it’s embarrassing how one single word of praise makes you flush, sends a pleasant tingle down your spine.  This shouldn’t have the effect on you that it does–maybe it’s because now that it’s over, you feel lighter, almost dazed.  All of your muscles had tightened into coils, but now you feel pliant to the point that your limbs feel rubbery.  You’re exhausted.  You’re hurt.  You don’t know what else he has on the agenda for you tonight but you just hope it doesn’t involve another one of his whips or ropes.

He sets the device back in the armoire and turns to face you.  He looks at your flushed, tear-stained face and smiles, mouth-closed before approaching the bed, his cock hard in his pants, and even though part of you wants nothing more than to melt into the bed and to get some relief for your stinging backside, you know he’s still going to chase his own pleasure.

‘He’ll want your mouth,’ you remember.  

You won’t wait for him to force it or grind your face into his privates.  If that’s what he wants, you’ll get there first, and so you drop your head and fumble as you reach with bound wrists for the fly of his pants.

You’re focused on what’s directly in your eyeline, so you don’t see his brief look of surprise, but you hear his voice, sounding pleased.  “Let me help you with that, pet,” he says, pulling away long enough to pull his pants down, stepping out of them.

It’s even more daunting when it’s this close to your face, but he steps back in, cradling your jaw, and you lean in and lick the tip of him.

For a few seconds that’s all you know to do, to lick around him, feeling the ridges and veins under your tongue.  It’s all the verification he could possibly need that you’ve never done this before, and that spurs him on, cradling your head in one large hand as the other guides himself past your lips and into your mouth.

It confirms what you suspected; he’s too big to take all the way and thankfully, doesn’t try to make you.  

Not yet, a part of you thinks.  You try to breathe, try not to get your teeth on him, try to relax and close your eyes as he controls the pace.  It’s easy enough at first; far from the rutting of the past couple of nights.  It doesn’t occur to you that, by his standards anyway, he’s being gentle with you.  Doesn’t occur to you to wonder why.  You just try to keep up as your backside and the backs of your thighs sting like hell and you hope Idrisa will have some sort of lotion for it when you get back to your quarters.

Feyd-Rautha appears to have yet another reason to like your hair, it seems, as he threads his fingers through it, guiding you onto him in slowly greater increments until he’s suddenly over halfway in and you freeze, nearly gagging, forgetting how to breathe.

He holds you in place for a moment, just long enough for your eyes to widen as you glance up at him and his heavy-lidded eyes and chest heaving with arousal.  He waits until you’re about to struggle and tear away from him before he relinquishes your hair and steps away, pulling out.  You take a deep breath, gulping the air down.  

“Stay right there,” he says, and settles in behind you, stroking your hindquarters like you’re a horse that he’s trying to calm down.  Will he put a saddle on you next?  You exhale hard through your nose, mouth pursing, waiting for what he’ll do next.  Will he mark up the stinging raw skin he’s already flogged with his hand?

Fine.  Fuck you again.  I can take whatever you’ve got.  I can handle it , you want to tell him out of spite.   You sense him shift, dipping his head, and despite your steeled nerves can’t help but gasp and feel something flutter in your core when you feel his breath against your lower back.

What exactly is he–? is all you have time to think before he dives in.

You jolt and wriggle in shock as he licks over one of your growing welts; you can’t quite tell but wouldn’t be surprised if he broke skin.  However, it’s how his tongue glides over your backside before shifting his weight to your folds that sends waves of shock, revulsion, and excitement as you cry out, stunned.

He’s licking my wounds .

You’re trying to wrap your head around how salacious it is that his lips and tongue alternate between licking the impacted skin on your buttocks and the backs of your thighs and dipping his tongue inside of you.  He has your hips firmly in place, which serves him well given that you’re torn between recoiling away from the heat of his mouth and wanting to press back against it.  You can feel him smirk at the sounds of your shocked moans.

He pulls away long enough to turn you on your back and you wince at the impact before you see him slide down along the bed and continue the onslaught.  You can hardly believe it as he grabs your still-stinging buttocks and buries his face against your bleeding pussy.

This is disgusting , part of you thinks.  Another part of you can hardly understand what’s happening.  In all your years you’ve never met a man who didn’t recoil hearing about monthly courses.  You’ve never heard of anyone wanting to taste a…a bloody gash .

Your wrists are still bound, and you grip onto the pillows above your head as he lifts your thighs to rest over his shoulders and dives back in, tongue pressing inside of you.  

It feels incredible.   You’d prefer it if it didn’t.  More than anything else, you don’t want to be enjoying this, wish the continuous whines and moans he’s drawing out of you were insincere, but he can feel as well as you do that you mean every sound.  You, Lady Y/N of the powerful and dignified house of Y/H, are getting your bloody pussy licked by the ruthless barbarian Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen and Great Mother and every forgotten old god, you’re enjoying every visceral and shocking moment of it.

He knows it, too, the smug bastard.  He probably feels even more powerful like this, on his belly and with his face between your legs, than he did when he was tanning your hide.

He raises one hand from your hip to your breast, giving one of your nipples a cruel pinch, smirking against your slit as you whimper in protest, and continues.  His nose presses and rubs against your bud in the onslaught and you finally admit to yourself that any last vestiges of resistance you might have had has caved when you squirm, rocking your hips upwards and desperately wishing that your wrists were free so you could press his face closer into you.

He keeps up his pace, bringing you as close to the edge as possible without reaching it until finally, mercifully, he shifts his mouth to your bud, his fingers replacing his tongue inside of you.  Your unrestrained cries fill the room, spurring him on, and then the force of it hits you as he brings you over the precipice for the first time.  It feels like it comes in shockwaves, especially as he keeps going through it all.

You’re still pulsing and squirming against his tongue when he stops, raising himself up and leaning over you.  Inky, sticky blood coats the lower part of his face, from his chin to his nostrils, and you’re a little surprised at how the sight doesn’t alarm you as much as it probably should, especially since that’s your blood covering his face.

There are far worse ways he could be smeared with your blood .  You gasp, still, at the striking color against the pallor of his face, reminded of seeing him in the arena. 

He presses damp, open-mouthed kisses against your stomach, your ribcage, your breasts and collarbone, as if to mark you with it.  Finally he sits up, bringing your legs over his as he guides himself into you with his bloodied fingers.

He stays upright as he pulls you onto him, and you watch his face as he looks down where you’re joined, his groan like a rumble in his chest as he sees himself pumping in and out of your bleeding pussy.  He won’t last long, you realize.  He’s been holding himself back from fucking you into the mattress since he visited you in your chambers hours ago. 

He curves in then, bracing one hand above your head to grip your still-bound wrists as his other hand grabs your hip to keep you stable.  You realize what he’s about to do a split second before it can happen.

He’s going to kiss you with that bloody mouth .

You tamp down on the revulsion of it and the coppery smell, again refusing to let him shock you or give you anything you can’t take and move in first, leaning up and capturing his mouth in a kiss.  

He groans into it, hips pumping, tongue invading your mouth as he speeds up, going hard, hips snapping into you.  He’s relentless; this would be agonizing if he hadn’t worked you open and pliant with his lips and tongue and even still, it veers on the edge of being overwhelming.  Your whimpers and cries only encourage him.

And then he finally comes, burying his face in the crux of your neck and biting down, not hard enough to draw blood but enough that it will leave a bruise later.

For a moment the two of you stay that way, then he releases your wrists and sinks down onto you, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder as he pulls out and takes a moment to catch his breath.  After a moment he raises himself back up on his forearms, pauses, and takes in the sight of your face and your lips stained red before reaching for your wrists again and untying the rope; once freed you notice that your skin’s been chafed rosy but still fully intact.  

He gets up, and you watch the lines of his legs, the slope and curve of his buttocks, the taper from his shoulders to his waist as he gets up and sets the rope back in the armoire before finally closing it shut.

Guess he’s done for the night .

But is he going to send me back right away? you wonder, turning to your side to watch the way he moves.  It takes some effort.  You feel as depleted as a rung-out damp rag.

He approaches the bed and wordlessly holds out his hand, and once you take it guides you to your feet and leads you into this bathroom.

Like his bedroom, it’s larger than yours.

He doesn’t let you wash your blood off your body; he wants it to remain on you until it dries and peels off on its own.  Instead he wipes his face, rinses and cleans out his mouth, and gives you a cup of water to do the same.  He wipes off in between his legs and then yours, quiet and strangely peaceful.  He takes another cloth and wets it, and then grabs a small bottle out of a drawer.  “Turn around, hands on the counter,” he says.

Fairly certain you know what he’s about to do, you acquiesce.  “Did you draw blood?” you ask over your shoulder.

He shakes his head.  “Not this time,” he says.  “Wasn’t trying to.”  And then he surprises you by getting down on one knee.

You give a small gasp.  It just seems…lewd?  Subservient?  And tired and sore as you are, you can’t help the twinge you feel in between your legs as he gingerly presses the cloth against your reddened skin.  You grip the countertop tighter as he opens the bottle of what you can only assume is ointment because after a moment his fingertips are smeared in a cool balm that offers such sweet relief you drop your head, trying to hold yourself together when your legs feel like they’re about to give out and you can feel Feyd-Rautha’s breath so close to the sensitive skin of your backside.

He seems to be applying the ointment to the worst of the welts, starting in silence and then adding, “You’re sensitive, but you have a decent pain tolerance.  I like that.”

You huff a laugh.  I bet you say that to all the girls, you almost tell him, and immediately think that that’s probably not true.  If it weren’t for the fact that he’s tending to your wounds you’d assume that he’d never do anything like this.  Something tells you that this small act of kindness isn’t to be taken lightly or for granted.

Once he seems satisfied with his work he gets back up, sneaking a glance of your face in the mirror.

Is he thinking about how much you’ve already changed since you’ve met? Since you’ve married?  When you see your reflection you don’t see the same person you did a week ago.  Of course he didn’t know you a week ago.  He barely knows you now.  Still, when your eyes meet in the mirror, he looks at you with something almost close to affection before he leaves the bathroom.

“Stay the night,” he says when you walk over to your abandoned clothes so you can gather them up, get dressed, and return to your chambers.

You look over at him.

“I’ll want to sample you again first thing in the morning,” he explains, “so it’s more convenient if you remain here.”

You huff, torn between incredulity and amusement.  “Taking advantage of the situation while we still can, are we?” you ask.

“I doubt it’ll come again for another ten months,” he says, and then strides, still naked, for the door.  He opens it, and a few words of battle-language later he shuts again.  He sees your confused expression and explains, “Your slave was still waiting for you.  I told her to go.”  He tilts his head in the direction of his bed, and after a moment you follow.  It appears that he doesn’t even want you to pull your undergarment back on.

As soon as you’re under the covers with him he tugs down your end of it to get one last look at your marked chest.  And after he’s looked his fill, he reaches for a switch that turns off the lights and even as the two of you can’t quite see each other, you still find yourselves on your sides facing one another.

“I wake up earlier than you’re probably used to and I’m a light sleeper.  Your slave assured me that you don’t snore,” he says.

“Not that I’m aware of,” you tell him.

“Once you stop bleeding I’m going to start having you train in my Halls,” he adds.  “I was serious earlier.”

“But for the next few days I’m chained to this bed.”

“That could be arranged,” he says.  “In any case you weren’t complaining when I was licking your cunt earlier.”

He won’t see your flush, but he must know that it’s there.  “So… is it safe to assume that none of this is…” you try to find the right words, “typical?  For a man, I mean.” And in quite possibly the biggest understatement you’ve ever made, “You’re not a normal man.”

You’ve adjusted enough to the dark to see his smirk.  “I think you've known that since before we met, Y/N,” he says.  And after a moment he lays his head, settling in and getting comfortable.  He doesn’t say another word to you that night, just closes his eyes and within a couple of minutes his breath slows.

It’s hard to imagine being able to let your guard down enough with this man to sleep beside him, even if he falls asleep first.  Like sleeping beside a wild animal.  

Sleep does come to you, though, after long minutes watching him sleep, waiting for him to wake up and scare you, lunge for you, and it doesn’t happen.

You turn to your other side, facing away from him then, and the only signal you get that he’s not entirely asleep is that as you start to drift off yourself, he reaches one arm to pull you in closer to him.

Tag list: @wo-ming-bai @blazeflays @richardslady121

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[dazealigner]

also being a julien girl and being pretty girly i loveeeeeeee the idea of julien w feminine artist!gf ☺️☺️ i think a hc would be super cute talking abt clothes/makeup/hair/body language/music and overall adoration julien and her girly!gf have for each other:)))

where’s my cig i need a gf badly 😔🚬

as a fellow julien and feminine artsy girl, i had waaay too much fun brainstorming for this idea. i will say though that i didn’t really touch on the body language/music part just cause i don’t think being more feminine or masculine can truly determine those things so i didn’t know what to write for those. but here’s some headcanons i stirred up (: RPF UNDER THE CUT

jb x feminine artist!gf hcs

okay so we know that one of the many forms of art artist!gf partakes in is makeup. and i said it when i was responding to an ask, but i’ll reiterate that artist!gf puts in just as much patience and effort into her makeup as she does when she picks up a literal painting canvas

and julien doesn’t really have a lot of experience in the visual arts other than drawing, which she does do sporadically. but she does lack experience in the cosmetic department, not that it interests her a lot.

but she absolutely loves how you take your time doing your makeup. especially when you two are going out because all she needs is ten minutes MAXIMUM to get ready and then she gets to sit down on the toilet seat in your shared bathroom where you’re doing your makeup and just watch you in admiration

but she does hate when you try and leave her by herself to start getting ready HOURS before you guys even have to leave

“where’re you goin’, baby?” she asks when you get up from your spot on the couch next to her

“i’ve gotta get ready.” you reply, giggling at julien because she uses a frown and her big brown (👶🐮) eyes as an offering in hopes that you’ll stay with her a little longer

“we got a couple hours,” and now she’s scooting on the couch to reach where you’re standing before she gently grabs your hand, rubbing and kissing your knuckles, “you can give me just a couple more minutes. .?”

she inevitably ends up winning you over, and when you do leave to get ready, she just follows you

and on the days where she’s tired and she feels like staying at home and having a lazy day but you two made plans with friends prior to that day and it’s too late to back out, she’s extra clingy. once she quickly finishes getting ready, she’s walking into your shared bathroom, lazily wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her head on your back while you’re literally in the middle of doing your makeup. so now you’re incredibly stiff because you’re unable to lean forward to look into the mirror but you put up with it for her.

doing your hair is a whole other story. it can either take you thirty minutes or an hour depending on the day and what you decide to do with it (curl it, straighten it, etc)

but julien actually loves the anticipation of how you’ll wear your hair when you go out (bonus: especially if your hair’s naturally curly and you decided to wear it natural, she’s like ☹️☹️☹️, and if she’s seen baby photos of you with your natural hair, she probably just wants to tackle you lovingly and kiss all over your face)

but she just whole-heartedly loves your hair and it doesn’t matter what hair-type you have. like if your hair’s straight? she loves how it’s so soft and easy for her fingers to glide through. if your hair’s curly? she loves getting to play with the springy curls. and if it were anyone else, you’d scorn them for making your curls lose definition. but when it’s her? your perspective completely changes.

another thing is that she always has your banana clips and scrunchies in her car. so if you last minute decide that you wanna put your hair up, all you gotta do is open the glove compartment and there’s a variety for you to choose from

she’d also keep one of your scrunchies around her wrist when you guys go out in case you wore your hair down and changed your mind throughout the night. or maybe you didn’t wanna use it at that exact moment but you didn’t want the scrunchie on your wrist to ruin your outfit so she’ll wear it for you (lucy and phoebe always snap the scrunchie on her wrist to tease her)

speaking of outfits, you and julien’s fashion styles are completely different

julien’s day-to-day style consists of graphic-tees, plain colored t-shirts, skinny jeans or dickies, and a pair of converse or really any tennis shoes. your day-to-day style consists of babydoll crop tops/tees, washed low-rise jeans, and a pair of sambas.

but i think that occasionally you’d both incorporate the other’s style into your own. like when julien wore that sparkly mesh black crop top when she sung phoebe’s verse in silk chiffon, that was definitely yours. and there’ve been days where you spot a graphic tee in julien’s closet that you know you’re capable of styling in a way that’s suiting to you. and when julien sees you wearing her clothes, she 100% teases you about where you got them from knowing damn well she’s fuzzy on the inside just seeing you wear her things

random (but non-random) bonus: seeing as though she’s always with you when you’re getting ready, she’s picked up on a lot of makeup terminology and what most products do. so when you told her that setting spray makes your makeup last through EVERYTHING, she’ll leave it to herself to be the tester of that. cause is it really 100 wet kisses-proof?

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 15

Happy WIP Wednesday! (Ignores the fact that it's almost an hour into Thursday my time.)

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.2k

-----

“Shit. Okay. I’ll fly us back. Bye Tim, everyone!” Danny picked up Tucker and flew away, turning invisible before he was more than a few yards away.

Tim sighed as he watched them. “Invisibility would be such a useful power. Paired with intangibility? Do you have any idea how much that’d help us out in Gotham?”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Cassie dismissively. “So what’re we doing for the next few hours?”

Wulf cocked his head and looked at them. Tim waved to him. “Let’s see what we can find out from our maybe-friend here.” Then, to Wulf, he asked, “Walker?”

Wulf’s bemused expression turned angry and he snarled.

Tim laughed and gave a thumbs up to show his agreement. “I’ve”—he pointed at himself—“heard”—this time his ears—“bad”—he scowled—“things about Walker.”

“Malbono,” said Wulf.

Tim grinned. “Very malbono,” he agreed.

Wulf bared his teeth, but this time, Tim thought it was more of a grin.

Cassie sat down on the ground. “So, Wulf and Danny are both targeted by this Walker ghost. How do we keep them safe?”

Tim shrugged. To Wulf, he said, “We”—pointing to him and his friends—“keep you”— pointing to Wulf—“safe. Secure. Protect.” Hopefully at least one of those words would be similar enough to the Esperanto word for the same concept.

“Protekti,” agreed Wulf.

Bart pointed at himself. “One.” Then to Conner, “Two.” Tim was called three and Cassie four. With a stick, he drew a crude figure of Danny’s ghost form, Sam, and Tucker, counting each one to seven. Then he pointed to Wulf. “Eight.” He drew the number in the dirt to reinforce the count. “Walker, how many?” He lifted his hands in an I-don’t-know gesture.

Wulf started with his hands close and slowly spread them wide. “Multaj.”

Tim’s stomach sank at the answer. They’d faced bad odds before, but it was never good.

“What does Walker want?” asked Conner.

But Wulf only looked at him in confusion and none of them could figure out how to ask that in charades.

Cassie grabbed another stick and began drawing. She started with a line and on one side, she had humanoid ghosts with tails instead of legs, on the other side she had stick figures. Then she drew arrows from the ghost side to the human side. Under the arrows, she drew question marks. Looking up, she asked, “How?”

Wulf bared his teeth again and pointed at himself. “Wulf.” He flexed his hand showing off his claws. Conner tensed at the action, but Wulf ignored him. Instead, he drew his hand down the air. Tim felt like he could hear tearing, but it was as if the sound originated in his brain, bypassing his ears entirely.

In the path of Wulf’s claws was a glowing green portal. Another gesture and it disappeared.

Tim stared in wonder. “So, if you’re here and with us, Walker can’t send any more ghosts to Amity. That makes things so much easier.”

Wulf only grinned at him.

Bart poked Tim’s side. “Think he needs to eat?”

Tim laughed. “You’re just hungry yourself. He’s already dead.”

Bart shrugged. “We haven’t had lunch yet.”

“I’m with Bart,” said Cassie. “I’m getting hungry. And it’d be rude to not offer anything to him. Bart, get us stuff from that burger place Danny took us to. And grab extra in case our new friend wants anything.”

Tim rummaged around in his bag and pulled out two hundred dollars cash. All three of his friends had metabolisms to match their powers. “Here, get as much as you want. Simple cheeseburger and fries for me.”

The others gave their orders and Bart was off.

The rest of the afternoon was spent mostly hanging out in the woods with Wulf. When Bart had offered him a burger, he’d sniffed it before pulling a face and giving it back. Bart just shrugged and ate it himself.

“Shouldn’t you be doing homework?” Conner asked Tim after a while. They’d run through most of the questions they could ask via pantomime and Bart and Cassie had taken to pointing at things and asking what they were called in Esperanto. “Bruce won’t be happy with you.”

Tim sighed. “No, you’re right. If we can’t research in the library, I should do something productive.”

Though it only took an hour and a half of going through his schoolwork for Tim to want to tear his own hair out. He slammed his book shut, making four pairs of eyes instantly fly to him.

“I can’t do this anymore! I can’t wait until I don’t need to be in school anymore. Who wants to spar with me?”

Conner stepped forward. “I’ll take the first round.”

“Great. I’m going to use the staff Danny gave me. I want to practice with it more.”

Wulf watched them as they sparred. Tim held his own against Conner, though ultimately the half-Kryptonian won. Cassie beat him next.

Bart sat the spars out because he won every time if allowed to fight. But he made a very good referee.

Tim and Cassie were having their third match of the day when Danny, Sam, and Tucker rejoined them.

Tim was breathing hard as he blocked another blow from Cassie with his staff. “Hey, Danny,” he said. Then he did a twist he’d learned from Dick coupled with a move he’d learned from Lady Shiva and Cassie was flat on her back. Tim grinned as he offered her a hand to help her up. “Looks like I win the last match of the day.”

“Well I won our two previous ones,” retorted Cassie as she took his hand.

Sam let out a whistle. “Damn, that was impressive. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“B sent me to Europe for several months to train from a bunch of different masters when I forced him to take me on.”

“Must’ve been good teachers if you can hold your own as a regular human against metas.”

Tim nodded and moved so he could nudge Danny. “I’ve been trying to convince this one to join me for a few weekends so I could get him some training, but he’d rather rely on luck and his powers.”

Danny rolled his eyes and scoffed. “You know that’s not what it is. I’m just afraid that if I leave any more often than I have to, something will happen!”

“Sure, sure,” said Tim. “But now that your parents know me and I can see just how bad it is, I’ll be coming to you to train you. No getting out of it now!”

Danny just groaned.

Tucker grinned. “Let me know when you come, and I’ll fit your training sessions into Danny’s schedule.”

“Absolutely.”

Sam pointed her thumb at Wulf. “So, how’re we gonna sneak a giant ghost through town and into my house anyway?”

Danny shrugged. “I figured he and I could fly there invisibly. I’ll drop my invisibility and enter through the door so your parents or grandma see me enter, and Wulf will drop it once we’re in private.”

“Fine, fine. Come on, then.”

-----

Next

In the show, there was a time skip between when Danny caught up with Wulf during his school lunch period and the four (Danny, Sam, Tucker, Wulf) all cramming into Tucker's bedroom that night. So I have no idea if Danny returned to school or not. And if he did, what did Wulf do all afternoon and evening? How did they meet up again? Or am I right and Danny skipped?

Good thing we have other people here to help out this time and it doesn't matter!

I no longer do tag lists for this fic, but please checkout the Subscription Post if you want notifications when this updates.

[amerricanartwork]

I saw your lilypad art post, and I got curious: why do you enjoy lilypad? it's not a common RW ship, so I'd be interesting to hear what about it you enjoy!

Hear me out, guys... I must explain myself before I get onto the Lilypad essay.

I made that original comment because, at the time, I wanted to just get the aforementioned headcanons out as soon as possible. Understand, my reluctance wasn't because I didn't want to talk about Lilypad, but rather the exact opposite: I had so many feelings about it, yet had put so little effort into expressing them in a coherent, presentable format that I just knew it'd distract me for the next week or two if I let it rent too much space in my conscious thoughts. But now that little comment has left me with several people asking me to share those thoughts, and, both thankfully and unfortunately, I simply can't resist indulging in thoughts about the characters I love—!

Keep in mind, I haven’t finished Saint campaign yet, and even then I’ve found like less than half the broadcasts in Spearmaster campaign yet, so there’s likely some extra canon info I may be missing that could add to or change some of what I say here. I also apologize if some of what I write here seems really out-of-character. I try not to let my passion for my little headcanons and scenarios make me disregard the canon, but even so, I might slip and think up some weird things occasionally. Nonetheless, I feel like I’ve got enough of the picture to start confidently enjoying this ship, so I’ll talk about it anyway! 

As always, feel free to add to these ideas if you can! Without further delay, enjoy this 3381-word essay, with a few initial headcanons sprinkled in, on why I adore Lilypad!

Oh, and just in case, if you couldn’t already tell, major Hunter campaign spoilers below.

Quetzalli on Loving Lilypad

I’m gonna start this out with a preface: I can generally find the appeal in a lot of different ships and the art other fans make for them, but for me to ship something enough to actively draw it and make my own headcanons about it and such (outside of, perhaps, gifts for other people), it usually has to contain a variety of “ship tropes” that I personally fancy. Many of my most-favorite ship tropes tend to be the ones that aren’t just cute, but that carry narrative significance and seem poetic in some way, usually because they can facilitate character arcs in the involved characters. The more of these a ship has, or the more ship tropes I can portray it with without it seeming too out-of-character, and the more I like those specific tropes, the better. This principle is a major reason why I’ve gravitated towards Artimand as my main slugcat ship, but for now, I’m going to focus on which of these I see in Lilypad — in canon content, other fan-portrayals, and my personal headcanons — that, as opposed to other iterator ships, has currently won me over.

I’m gonna describe the main general things I like seeing in this ship. Some of them are more due to fandom portrayals than what’s in the canon, but they all play a big role in my current love for Lilypad. 

Synergy

I’ll begin with how I really appreciate just how much synergy Looks to the Moon and No Significant Harassment are shown to have, at least in fan content! I always like seeing pairings where the characters aren’t just romantic, but also work really well together as a team or even just as friends. After all, just because the characters may be romantically in love doesn’t mean they must only show it in explicitly romantic ways. To me, Lilypad strikes me as a relationship where Sig and Moon would make an amazing team in many aspects of their lives, whether it's collaborating on projects, sharing their interests, or trying to maintain order in the rest of their group. And their compliment is just really sweet to me, though I’ll get to that later.

A Shoulder to Lean On/The Lady

One of my favorite ship tropes is “character with a lot of weight on their shoulder who finally gets to lift it off and be ‘normal’ for once when around the other”. I’ve always found it sweet when characters like this, especially ones who are normally very selfless, finally get a chance to indulge and enjoy themselves for once! And once again, this is another thing I imagine in Artimand too, and you could project this onto Trafficlights given Suns’s implied high status, but I think it works especially with Lilypad, given Moon’s role as group senior means she objectively has a lot to manage all the time with no permanent escape from it. Even beyond the whole Five Pebbles rot drama, Moon probably had a lot on her plate just in terms of maintaining order between the rest of the group and setting a good example to the younger generations, especially as the group expanded over time, not to mention trying to find the solution herself. Combine this with how I picture her to be the kind of person who cares a lot about her image as a “proper” and  “dignified” leader, and someone who often sacrifices her own desires to promote the group’s welfare, I just find it really soft for her to have someone to lean on, metaphorically (and in a worm-off-the-string scenario, literally), and who better to go to than her best teammate, who knows the power of a good laugh and will stop at nothing to have fun with those he loves? Not to mention, since I headcanon Sig as slightly younger than Moon (2nd gen, specifically), I just find it rather cute in an ironic sense that the older, more serious Moon is soft around the younger, far more chaotic Sig, especially as Moon would go through the realization that she actually kinda likes this little troublemaker! 

This also comes back to something I mentioned in the tags of that beepsnort post, which is that one of my other favorite ship tropes is “guy who loves/is good at making people laugh x girl who has a REALLY weird/embarrassing laugh”, and that just works so well with Lilypad! It’s admittedly a very headcanon-based thing for me, but given how I’ve already explained my perception of Moon as very proper and serious, I imagine one of the best ways Sig takes the weight off her shoulders is by being the only person who can consistently make her laugh so hard! And with the beepsnort headcanon it’s even cuter, because of course Moon would be super embarrassed every time she even so much as gives a half-chuckle at one of his jokes, because Sig is relentless when it comes to getting the giggles out of her, and he won’t stop until she’s rolling and shaking on the floor of her chamber, her beepy-snorts filling the room! My GODDD I love this trope so much, and for beings who are inherently such workaholics, I think getting to genuinely relax and have fun for a bit, once she gets over the initial shock and embarrassment, would be something Moon would really come to value.

Inverses Attract/The Tramp

I’ve mentioned it in my last Artimand headcanons post, but one of my absolute all-time favorite ship tropes is the classic “opposites attract”, although I prefer the name “inverses attract”. As I like to portray it, the trope not only involves characters who are opposites personality-wise, but those being opposites of the same core aspect, and ultimately helping balance each other out by offering the other half of the equation to each other (hence the name “inverses”). The trope I just wrote about above is how Sig helps Moon to relax and have fun, but as I try to do with all ships, how does it work the other way too? Well, I really like to imagine Sig learning to be more openly serious and dedicated! Don’t get me wrong, Sig is a hard worker (it’s pretty much the nature of all iterators), but given he seems to pretty strongly reject the quest for the Triple Affirmative, I imagine the next problem would be in him finding a new purpose to strive for. And what better new purpose than in standing by and protecting the group senior he thinks he just might wanna be more than friends with?

It already works because Moon, of course, would work to keep Sig in check and make sure he doesn’t go too overboard with his shenanigans. But just imagine how inspired he’d grow over time seeing Moon work so hard to keep the group together and keep them striving for their purpose, even if he doesn’t agree with it. I imagine it’s why Sig’s methods are still rather controlled rather than purely chaotic, and there’s a reason to his rebellion. Thanks to Moon, rather than slaving away at a seemingly impossible solution until his mind collapses with his structure, he’ll use his talents to, at the very least, keep the local group together as long as possible, because even if they’ll all be gone one day, that doesn’t mean they have to go alone!

It’s why I’m also labeling these two tropes together as “the Lady and the Tramp”, yet another ship dynamic that gets me every time! It’s a specific instance of “inverses attract” where the noble, proper lady finds a taste of freedom and courage from the dangerously charming tramp, who from her finds a new sense of purpose and honor! And in my opinion, Lilypad is most definitely the best opportunity for this dynamic among Rain World ships!

The Fated Couple

Slow-burn couples seem to be pretty popular in many fandoms, but what about a really slow-burn? There’s something just so romantic to me about the idea that Moon and Sig, from the moment they met, have always just clicked so perfectly, and have been by each other’s side so constantly ever since, to the point it seems practically inevitable to everyone (except them of course) that they’ll eventually get together romantically. Of course, there are two main roadblocks to their romance being 1.) their whole objective and purpose for being created is kind-of fundamentally opposed to strong attachments like love (I mean, if Karma 3 is Companionship, wouldn’t romantic love be considered the worst example of that?), and 2.) even if they did reject this purpose, being massive immovable structures with the only humanoid part stuck deep inside a box, a budding romance seemingly couldn’t really go anywhere anyway. In fact, because of these roadblocks much of my Lilypad imaginings take place in the ever-popular “worm-off-the-string” scenario, especially since the next couple of reasons for why I like the ship play a lot into the themes I like to incorporate in this story concept. 

However, these issues towards such a romance are also what make it so sweet in the end! Just think of Moon, alone in her chamber, beginning to worry about how she’s actually kinda sorta, maybe, hypothetically, possibly, just a little bit starting to like the carefree and charismatic Gen 2 in the local group as even more than just a work partner and a dear friend, but oh no, that’s indulging in a Karmic Sin, and as group senior she can’t just throw away their purpose like that and set such a bad example to the rest! What’s she gonna do?? And then on the other side, Sig puzzling in his chamber, pining so hard for the group senior yet seemingly unable to confess, because, even disregarding Karma 3 and the fact that giant immobile calculators aren’t about to be snuggling any time soon, why would someone as perfect and powerful as her want someone like him, so dismissive of their core purpose and unorthodox in his methods? Is there even a point in having these feelings at all, when they might very well end up simply fading to dust along with the rest of his structure?

Maybe, they both think, it’d be better to just keep these feelings to themselves and quietly love from a distance. That is, until…

Moon’s Collapse and the Slag Reset Keys

The fourth reason is, of course, the most steeped in canon. It goes back a bit to the “shoulder to lean on” concept, but even aside from that, there is something just so romantic about this on both sides.

Firstly, from Moon’s perspective. There’s no doubt that the collapse must have been very traumatic for Looks to the Moon physically, but I like to think about just how much it’d affect her emotionally, too. I mean, being so painfully destroyed by your own brother, with seemingly nothing that can be done to stop it and no one to help you? And then consider how lonely it must have been in her final moments. The only comfort she does get is from Spearmaster’s visit, and even then she sends him off to go deliver her final words, which has still got to be really depressing. And finally, think about how betrayed she must have felt, trying so hard throughout her operation to help her citizens and the local group and be kind to everyone, only to have it be repaid like this, forced to collapse in on herself, being buried under her own body, unfathomable pain all around, and with not a soul to help her.

So then, think about just how shocking and heartwarming (literally, if you think about it) it must be when that lovable Gen 2, always so playful and carefree normally, is the one to give her a second chance and being her back when all hope seems lost, and using such a unique delivery method no less! I mean COME ON, Sig literally brought her back to life, how could one NOT fall in love with someone who did that for them? It links back to the “shoulder to lean on” idea, in that, for once, someone finally looked out for Moon and gave back to her for all the kindness she gave to the world. Think about this as the moment she truly realizes she’s in love with No Significant Harassment, and how tragic it’d be knowing now, it’s too late to say it. But, even so, if he’s willing to go this far to make sure she’s okay, then maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance her love at least wasn’t alone.

Now, my thoughts about this from No Significant Harassment’s side (which also kinda turned into a mini NSH appreciation paragraph that links back to the earlier Inverses Attract and Lady and the Tramp segment), I think it’s very poetic to see him going out of his way to take his messenger concept, originally used for no more than a trivial prank and at most a very experimental and unfinished alternative communication method, and turning it into a noble last-ditch effort to rescue the one he loves. It doesn’t just clearly show how much he cares for Moon that he worked to save her when no one else did (and if that’s because the odds of being able to do anything seemed very low to the rest of them, that makes it even more sweet) I think it shows off a lot of Sig’s character beyond just being a jokester. Like, I’d seen this kind of personality for Sig in the fandom content before, but this action and the other broadcasts are what first made me truly realize not just that it is based in canon, but that, more importantly he’s not just stupid or unfocused, he’s rebellious. He doesn’t joke around because he just doesn’t care, it’s because he’s independent, he’s got other places he wants to go and plans that don’t fit into what most of his peers are used to. He makes light of the world because he sees what others don’t, and it’s honestly pretty frickin’ funny how blind others can be most of the time (case-in-point: him making a slugcat from a messenger, which no one else thought to do because those creatures seemed too “dull” and “primitive” to ever be capable of such a thing). So think about how significant it must be when he’s openly taking something seriously. This is where that dynamic of the Tramp, and how Sig would benefit from this relationship is really highlighted. I just adore it when the easygoing, carefree character finally finds purpose in their lover, and springs into serious action like they never were before! And it makes sense too given what I said about them not getting together before: seeing Moon collapse would show him directly that even beings as durable as iterators don’t last forever, so if he’s got these feelings for Moon, he’s got to make a move while there’s still a chance! And what better way to show his love than to bring her back when all hope seems lost? Which brings me to the final aspects I’ll talk about here, first of which is…

True Love’s Kiss

Yes, you read that right. The real reason I love the slag reset keys as a plot element so much is not just because it shows Sig’s secret strength of character, not just because it finally gives reward to Moon’s kindness, but because it is a real fairytale come true! 

I know this sounds crazy and probably totally unrelated to Rain World, but think about it! You guys have probably seen Snow White and Sleeping Beauty before, or at least one of the two? Isn’t the whole trope that the beautiful princess, fairest maiden in the land, gets cursed through some means or another to die (or in Aurora’s case, fall into an indefinite sleep), which is only undone when the strong and brave prince, riding upon his noble steed, awakens the princess by giving her true love’s kiss? I already love both those movies on their own for various other reasons, but after my description, is this starting to sound familiar in another way?

I mean, with everything I’ve said about Moon in this post so far, there’s no doubt you could perceive her as the “fair princess”, who through unfortunate circumstances is put to a premature and indefinite death. And there’s no doubt Sig fills the role of the brave prince by working to save her with the slag reset keys, which in this metaphor are undoubtedly the “true love’s kiss” that ultimately conquers all, always longed for, and finally delivered! And hey, given Hunter is the one to carry the keys to Moon, a small yet courageous beast who stops at nothing to meet his goals, Sig even has his own “noble steed”! And even if Hunter is technically the one to actually deliver the green neuron, and the death the “princess” succumbs to wasn’t out of genuine malice towards her, I think the sentiment is still there and the parallel is close enough! 

But yes, as strange as it may sound, the fairytale parallel is the main reason Lilypad resonates with me so much! Those classic fairytale-esque romance tropes and that poetic storytelling found in Disney’s first feature-length animated films has always been dear to my heart, and is even more so now that I’m older and can truly appreciate the beauty of them. So now, even in my fandom experiences, ships that win my appreciation over all others are often those that manage to embody those classic romance tropes and themes as best as possible, and frankly, even Artimand loses ever-so-slightly to Lilypad in this regard! Or, as I also enjoy calling them, “Lifeline”, for reasons that are probably obvious now. 

And it’s even better when you consider…

Some Things Never Change

Another trope I’ve recently begun to love is the idea that some phenomena in the world never truly disappear, but simply manifest in different ways, sometimes unexpected ones. And given the whole Triple Affirmative quest and the Ancients’ mass ascension philosophy, this idea is something I especially love seeing in Rain World content. Even the canon events show this idea, but think about how wonderfully it would work with Lilypad beyond just the slag reset keys, especially taking up that “worm off the string” iterator AU concept some have explored in this fandom already.

Just think about how sweet it would be when Moon and Sig, operating primarily through their puppets now, get to finally hug and kiss and be with each other so directly now! Think of the way Sig would speak to Moon about how, even after her collapse, she's still somehow beautiful as ever, and Moon returning with how even all the trouble the group has faced hasn't put a dent in his charm! And it's even sweeter when you consider it’s against everything their creators stood for! Think of Moon, after everything she’s been through and how much she’s probably changed at this point, now willing to give some of these “worldly attachments” a chance, because you can never truly get rid of them, but she knows better than anyone that you won’t be around to experience them forever, so why not enjoy it while you’ve got the chance? And it’d make sense too, not just for her own benefit, but for Pebbles and the rest of the group’s sake too! She’s always strove to set a good example for them, and since their original quest has left them with nothing but pain and trauma, why not show them that maybe all these attachments aren’t so bad after all?

I just think it’d be really interesting to see Moon joining Sig in that rejection of the Triple Affirmative, and what better way to do that than by finally embracing that love they’ve felt for each other for so long? Because love never truly dies, it just appears in new people. And maybe they don’t have to spend their whole lives as grand iterators, the vast infinitely-advanced mechanical deities who embody perfection in almost every way. Maybe, even just for a bit, they can just be people, falling in love just as their creators did all over again!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And with that, I think I’m FINALLY done here. HOLY COW, this is easily my longest post yet, and I hope it doesn’t disappoint! Part of the reason it took so long was because I was trying to find the perfect way to express all these ideas without it just spilling out onto the page in some weird half-coherent mess. But eventually I just said “ah screw it, let’s just ramble about this ship and see where it goes!” and my god, did it go far! And I still managed to somewhat organize it, so yay!

But aside from that, thank you SO MUCH to everyone who asked for my thoughts on Lilypad, and everyone who made it to the bottom of this essay! I’ve never really gotten a chance to openly ramble about one of my favorite ships to the rest of the fandom like this, so seeing that some fans, even if it’s ultimately not a huge amount, actually wanted me to do it was such a welcome surprise!

I hope you all enjoyed the drawings and the art! I’ll be around in case someone wants me to write another ship essay or something! And who knows, it’s likely I’ll find more reasons I like Lilypad as time goes on and I see more fan-content and find the rest of those broadcasts! But at least this was a starting point! 

Expect more LIlypad content to come in the future, but until now, thanks again for the opportunity!

[silentwhispofhope]

*Limping to your request box* I MISSED YOU AND I WANT TO GIVE YOU AN IDEA FILLED WITH FLUFF!! Is it okay to request?

💞[Skin Writing/Drawing Soulmate AU]✍️ 🖌️ - Reader is an artist and constantly draws many art in their skin because it's just so satisfying! Their soulmate Vash feels appreciated, in love, and beautiful whenever Reader's drawing appear on his skin. Their art just gives him a reason to love his skin despite skin scars 🥺 🖋️ - Reader does calligraphy, and they sometimes quote the bible doing it cause why not? Soulmate Wolfwood just looks with a soft, maybe teasing smile as he sees his soulmate's work. 😎 📜 - Reader is a poet and they randomly have ideas and prompt all throughout the day, so they grab a pen and start writing all the poetry from their head. Soulmate Knives who's intellectual and curious admires whenever his soulmate's writing appear on his skin, he just covers it from others eyes because pest don't deserve to see this beauty. 🌱

YOU CAN PICK TWO OUT OF THE THREE!! IT'S YOUR CHOICE MY FRIEND!!! 😍💝💌

- Sugar Plum Anon 💟

A/N: Just for you Sugar Plum Anon, I’ll do all three <3 I do hope you’re alright though! Please do stay safe! Since I’m doing all three, I hope you’re alright with headcanons instead of normal lil’ one shots. :)

Skin Writing/Drawing Soulmate AU Headcanons

Vash

He was absolutely scared out of his mind when he first saw the ink appear on his skin. He even went as far as to try to scrub his skin raw, and the ink was still fresh as ever. Poor blondie is wondering how the hell something like this is happening.

Meanwhile, you’re doodling like there’s no tomorrow with your ballpoint pen, tracing the outlines of your veins and doodling smiling faces.

Over time, Vash learns to just accept the random appearance and disappearance of drawings across his body. At the end of the day, it’s like a fun little game to see what’s been sketched on him underneath his turtle neck.

It takes a while for Vash to realize that it’s his soulmate doodles appearing on his skin. Warmth floods his heart each time he thinks of this, causing him to lovely trace the marks across his own skin.

He would laugh sometimes at the sudden ink smear appearing on his skin before new sketch marks appeared, your work hypnotizing him. He especially loved when you used different colors, almost painting his skin like a canvas. Eventually, he makes the move to respond.

So imagine your surprise when you find a poorly drawn flower appear on your skin. Ensue the same panic Vash experienced when you remembered you didn’t draw that.

Wolfwood

Scrubbing his skin did nothing. Seeing the scripture on his forearm made him wonder if he had perhaps gotten too drunk the night before and had gotten a tattoo.

The fancy calligraphy was choice, especially with that proverb. For the lips of the adulterous woman drop honey, and her speech is smoother than oil. Wolfwood decided that there could be worse things etched into his skin from that old religion.

You, on the other hand, were giggling to yourself. Oh, the irony of something appearing to beautiful but naughty. A snort escapes from one of your nearby friends.

He didn’t put anymore thought into it until the next day when the ink disappeared. Lowkey, thought he was super dehydrated for him to imagine that, but nope, even after drinking tons of water, the ink was no longer on his skin.

Cue some praying. He nearly has a heart attack when more ink appears on his skin. He has to go back to the orphanage and ask the elders for help on understanding the situation. Turns out it’s a soulmate thing, one which they didn’t even bother to mention until now.

Overtime, he appreciates the calligraphy he appears on his skin, particularly when new motifs appear. Wolfwood liked seeing you test new things and watch as the ink appear on his skin.

However, he was very glad to wear long sleeves when you would write down a particularly dirty proverb like 5:19. He would always end up blushing a bright red like a tomato, a huge contrast to his normal, stoic personality.

Imagine, your surprise when you notice fresh ink on your skin. For your ways are in the full view of the LORD in basic script.

Knives

He almost didn’t see the script appear on his arms, the ink nearly blending into his suit and pale skin. His fingers traced the letters he could make out. Knives immediately knew what this meant, it was his soulmate reaching out- most likely not knowing what was happening.

He tried to ignore it the best he could and kept himself covered with his cloak. Having someone would just drag him down, make it harder to reach his goal of eradicating humanity. However, his curiosity got the best of him.

Taking another look, the bleach blond quickly recognized the letters as chords with their denoted accidentals. Luckily for him, he new how to play. It was child’s play, really.

Meanwhile, your trying to understand how to play different songs only by listening too them. You were too stubborn to look them up, very confident in your ability.

And so it became a pattern for him to decipher your song you had written on his arm. He would spend hours playing the piano, watching the notes on his arm be crossed out and replaced. The composition rarely stayed imprinted on his skin for longer than a day.

Often, Knives would see lyrics being written with the chords. A little artist are we now? His small joke to himself caused a small smile. He would end up humming them, his low voice cutting through the air. It was for the sake of rhythm, he told himself.

Imagine your surprise when you saw a new. mark you knew you hadn’t inscribed into your skin, a word marked out for another.

[neo404]

Reader painting nicks nails ( he doesn’t do a good job but nick don’t want to hurt his feelings)

Nick and reader having self-care nights where they do skin care , paint each other’s nails , cuddle and watch movies

/Could be two different ones or they can also go together/

Sleepover.

Summary: Nick and you have a self-care sleepover.

Tw: cursing.

Note: I invented names for Nick and reader to gossip about while painting each others nails.

‘’What was this?’’ Nick says grabbing one of the many bottles on my skin care bag.

‘’That’s moisturizer, that’s what we have to do now, and then we can move to the face masks.’’

‘’Oh, that’s nice. We bought the ones with animal faces on them, right?’’

‘’Yes. How are you feeling your face?’’ I look at Nick who’s looking at himself in the mirror of his bathroom, with a baby blue head band to keep his hair out of his face, he looks so cute.

‘’It actually feels… clean? I don’t know how to describe it, but it feels good.’’

‘’Nice, that’s the whole point of this. Now, time to moisturize.’’ I grab the bottle and squeeze out a few drops into my hands, patting them all over Nick’s face, massaging it a bit, he closes his eyes and leans into my touch.

‘’This is so nice. I love it.’’ He murmurs.

‘’I’m glad, baby.’’ I keep rubbing his face, a tiny smile forming in my face, loving the relaxation I can bring to my boyfriend. ‘’Okay, my turn now.’’

‘’All right.’’ Nick pours a bit too much of moisturize into his hands and starts to rub it into my face. ‘’This feels like massaging dough, it’s so funny.’’

‘’Did you just call me dough?’’ I try to hold in my laughter.

‘’Yes, my little dough. I’ll eat you up, nom nom.’’

‘’God, you are so corny.’’ I smile widely, his hands drawing circles all over my face.

‘’You love it when I’m corny.’’

‘’True, I do love it. I think that’s enough.’’ I look at us in the mirror and smile. ‘’Now, we can do the face masks on the bed while we paint our nails.’’

‘’Yes, let’s do that.’’ He walks to his bed where a few bottles of nail polish were laying. ‘’I haven’t picked a color yet.’’ I turn off the light of the bathroom and go sit next to him.

‘’You can think while you paint mine.’’

‘’True. Maybe we can match, you leave your pinkies finger without painting, and when I choose, I’ll paint it the same color. And I’ll paint my pinkies the same color as your nail, so we are matching.’’

‘’That’s an amazing idea, I love it.’’ I open my backpack that was at the foot of the bed, grabbing the face masks we bought earlier. ‘’So, we have these string for the eyebags and on top I’ll put the animal face masks. Come closer so I can put them on you.’’ Nick sits closer, our legs touching, I open the plastic and take out two orange strings, putting them under his eyes, then I grab the bigger package and pull out the tiger facemask, putting it into his face, making sure is well adjusted and it doesn’t fall.

I put mine by myself, my mask is a bunny one, and Nick laughs while I put it on. ‘’We look so goofy.’’ He says, taking his phone out, taking a few pictures of us and myself. ‘’All right, what color do you want your nail?’’

‘’Hm, I think I’ll go for black.’’

‘’Good choice, a classic. So, are we gonna gossip like they do on nail salons?’’ he says while grabbing the black nail polish and opening it up.

‘’God, yes.’’ Nick grabs my hand and puts it on top of a pillow that he rested on top of his lap.

‘’So, what do you think about Laura’s new girlfriend?’’ he starts painting my nails precisely.

‘’Oh god, don’t get me started on that. I think she’s bad for Laura, like it’s super controlling and she doesn’t even realize.’’

‘’That’s what I’m saying. Like, girl, how can she tell you ‘No, you CAN’T go out with that dress’, what do you mean I CAN’T, I’ll do whatever I want with my body, fuck off.’’ Nick blows softly into my right-hand nails, giving some retouches here and there. ‘’Give me your other hand, be careful with that one, it’s not fully dried yet.’’ He grabs my other hand and puts it on the pillow. ‘’Also, Laura has been really mean to us lately, like, she’s letting that crazy girl manipulate her. I can’t believe it.’’

‘’I swear, you know who has been kind weird lately?’’

‘’Austin?’’

‘’Yes. Like, the whole sports scholarship got really got into his head, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for him but he’s acting like he is Lebron James.’’

‘’I swear, like, chill. You don’t need a security guard to go to a fucking restaurant.’’ Nick blows on my nails and smiles at himself. ‘’Done, and I decided what color I want mine. Purple!’’

‘’Cool, we have two shades of purple, this one that’s more like… pastel purple and this is like… grape purple, I think.’’ I hold the two bottles infront of our eyes, letting him analyze them.

‘’Hm, grape purple. That’s the one.’’ I nod and open the bottle up. ‘’So, what do we think about Alexs new hair color?’’

‘’God, I love it, it compliments their eyes.’’ I say slowly painting his nails, I bite down on my lip trying to keep my hand as steady as I can.

‘’Yeah right. I think it’s a bold color, but it looks nice on them. Going back to Lauras girlfriend, did you know that she said Alex wanted to kiss Laura? So now she’s not allowed to hang out with just them.’’

‘’Really?’’ I mutter, paying most of my attention to his nails, but even then, I still painted unto his fingers.

‘’-After that Laura texted me and… are you even listening to me?’’ I look up from his nail into his eyes and shrug my shoulders.

‘’I’m sorry.’’ I whisper. ‘’I’m not very good at this.’’ I say looking at his nails ashamed.

‘’Aw, it’s all right. You are doing an amazing job. Plus, I can retouch them later.’’

‘’Okay. What were you saying?’’ I say getting back to painting his nails, slowly, but less anxious about it. Nick and I talked and talked, until the nail polish dried.

‘’All right, time to cuddle.’’ He opens up his arms and I crawl into his arms, wrapping mine around his neck, Nick lays back, pulling the both of us into the mattress. ‘’You are so comfy. Thanks for today, I loved every part of it.’’

‘’Even your poorly painted nails?’’

‘’Even my amazing nails painted by my handsome boyfriend.’’ He kisses my cheek.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Fall | Mat Barzal

wc. 730

A beautiful fall day with Mat Barzal

This was your favorite type of day. 

The kind of day where it’s the end of summer, and the weather is starting to cool but you still have a choice of shorts to wear if you wanted to. The air is crisp, with a hint of fall and all things good. It reminds you of the first day of school when you were a kid, rushing into the new classroom and heading straight towards your friends, with absolutely no care in the world. 

As you grew up you found the beauty of days like this and relished it. You always ended up at a nearby dog park, your tiny pup running around and playing with other dogs. You sat at a bench nearby, reading whatever novel caught your attention this week. 

It was peaceful, not many people were at the park today helping you focus more on the book before you. You had read pretty much half the novel, extremely invested in the story before you. Suddenly you hear a dog bark loudly, and you look up just as he comes tumbling towards you. He didn’t have any malice in his eyes, only pure happiness as he bounded towards you excited to meet another person. 

When the dog reaches your feet you hold out a hand, smiling fondly at the husky. He lets you draw your hand over his head, scratching lightly behind his ears. You’re grinning at the friendly pup so much you don’t even notice the out of breath boy before you. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says, causing you to look up. 

For a second you’re struck by his features, his brown hair flops across his forehead, a genuine smile braced on his lips. Your heart skips a beat before dropping down between your feet and rolling to a stop. 

“You’re all good,” you finally choke out. 

“Belle really likes people,” he continues with a gesture towards the husky still happily panting at your feet. 

“She’s adorable,” you say, smiling up at him. 

“Uhm, Mat,” he says, sticking out his hand awkwardly. 

You take it in your hand, offering your name in response and he smiles. He looks around, spotting your dachshund slowly but surely making his way over to you. 

“Awe is he yours?” Mat asks cooing at your tiny pet. 

“He is. His name is oliver or ollie,” you respond. 

He leans down, running a hand over your panting dog before scooping him up into his arms. Your dog leans his head on Mat’s chest, similar to the way he does to you and your face immediately softens. 

“He’s precious,” Mat says, smiling at you. 

“He likes you. He doesn’t like many people.” 

Mat grins widely at that, eventually putting Ollie down and the dog sits next to him still seemingly smiling at the boy before you. 

“Can I sit?” Mat asks and you nod, moving your bag to the ground next to you. 

By now both your dogs have bound off again, running and chasing each other causing a giggle to erupt from you at the size difference of the dogs. 

“What are you reading?” Mat asks, tipping your book up to see the cover. 

“Misery,” you respond sheepishly. 

“You’re a writer,” he states like you just said it yourself. 

You tilt your head at the essential stranger, wondering how he knew that quickly. He smiles sheepishly, shrugging as if he can feel your confusion. 

“My friend is a writer. Always has their head in a book. Not sure why though,” he explains, and you grin. 

“Gotta get the good ideas from the best.” 

Mat nods like this makes perfect sense to him and you smile, slowly shutting your book to turn to him. 

“And what do you do for a living?” 

You’re surprisingly shocked when the sun starts to set and your dog has been next to your side laying down for the past half hour. You had been smiling and laughing for nearly two hours getting to know Mat. 

“Uh so I’m late to practice,” he says and you nod. “But can I get your number?” 

He slides you his phone and you’re quick to type your number in. When you hand it back to him he’s grinning widely as he slides his phone into his pocket before calling his dog back over. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he says, winking before walking away. 

[firein-thesky]

If you have the time, I would like to hear your thoughts on the parallels between itadori and suguru pretty pls😌🎤

omg i would love to. it’s honestly one of my fav parallels in jjk. i think it sometimes gets overlooked bc itadori is more jovial/fun/light color schemed like gojo and fushiguro is more serious/dark color schemed like getou BUT. just listen!!

to begin this parallel, we can start with the most obvious one in my mind. and that’s the fact that itadori and getou both ingest curses. they quite literally eat them. they’ve both talked about their taste—how gross they are. getou remarks that no one knows the taste of a curse. but now itadori does.

my next parallel between them is more in terms of their story arc. both of them have very strong morals; morals which their counterparts (gojo and fushigro) sort of scoff at in the beginning. itadori and getou both believe that people need to be protected. and those who are stronger, should work to protect them. NOW….getou’s do change. but let’s look at the moment that forever changes him; it’s strikingly similar to a moment itadori has, too.

the moment riko dies for getou is incredibly similar to how junpei dies for itadori; in the sense that, here was this person they had worked to protect and save, here was this friend who they wanted in their life, and all their ideals they had placed in them, being torn very gruesomely away. this is also a pivotal moment for every wide-eyed sorcerer. they must deal with death. and the death of those closest to them.

morally, this is where their paths diverge. but we certainly see itadori begin to spiral the way getou also had to spiral when faced with the constant death and loss of other sorcerers. specifically i’ll show these next two panels to depict that;

same position. same idea is being conveyed for both. lost, traumatized, uncertain of the morals they once held; where did it get them? where did it get others? for both, many ended up dead.

now the other parallels i’ll draw…one of which is almost an exact replica of the other, is the way in which their bodies are not fully their own anymore. kenjaku inhabits getou completely and uses his body to do things he would not have done. similarly, sukuna does the same to itadori. and there are moments where getou and itadori have tried to fight back against the one controlling them;

that parallel is the one that really did it for me. oh it’s so poetic in the most wretched way. i love it.

beyond that, both itadori and getou are not from prominent families in the sorcerer world. there is little expectation placed upon them in this regard. also, they both get entangled in the politics of the higher ups and both are ordered to be hunted and executed at a point in their story.

now i could also bring in gojo and fushiguro, too, which would also highlight the parallels between them. both are from prominent sorcerer families and have a lot of expectations placed upon an extremely powerful inherited cursed technique. both grew up in the sorcerer world. getou and itadori juxtapose them in which they have to learn how brutal this world is. in fact, they serve to remind gojo and fushiguro that the world doesn’t have to be the way it’s always been.

now, of course, morally, itadori is not like getou. and their parallels are not exact nor should they be!

itadori (and fushiguro) serve to try and end the cycles that getou (and gojo) were trapped in.

in my mind, the parallel here was always one of hope; itadori is supposed to do what getou failed to do. narratively, he has been set up to end the cycle.

at least, he had been. i’ll stop here before i start cursing out akutami and his absolute assassination of itadori’s character in more recent arcs and chapters. but really truly the getou/itadori parallel is a favorite of mine, much like the gojo/fushiguro parallel. i think this is where jjk’s writing is at some of its strongest.

thank you for asking!! i hope you enjoyed my lil analysis/presentation!

[damagedintellect]

Dazai Osamu x reader

💌 Reading into the palms of isekai bullshit: Chapter 4 💌  

Summary: You were no stranger to isekai bullshit. It’s not like you had a problem with it. The genre took over the anime scene for years now but you try to stay away from thinking about how you would handle the situation. The last time you thought about inserting yourself into your favorite show you wrote a 100k word xReader fic for your favorite characters and you didn’t want to spend all your time consumed by the brainrot again. Never again, you promised yourself that was the last time you’d let the devil on your shoulder win. You clicked on chapter 1 to start the adventure over again but when you opened your eyes and saw Dazai O-FUCKING-samu getting choked by Kunikida you honestly hoped it was a dream.  

Notes: Another isekai so I can play around with BSD like dolls.  

💌 Word count: 1,970 💌 <= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

The next few days will be boring for you since Dazai was taken by the port mafia. Being a non combatant also kind of sucked because it meant that you were basically useless on the front lines. You mostly spent your time doing office work and or following Ranpo around like a lost puppy getting him snacks whenever he wanted. Honestly with how bored you felt it seemed like he was rubbing off on you. Although you still didn’t forgive him after that last stunt. The sugar fiend was so pleased with himself when he saw you that morning. Although you should have expected as much.

 Atsushi was concerned over Dazai’s disappearance but you spilled the beans that he was taken on purpose to try and figure out what was up with the bounty on his head. That actually made him feel worse but before he could ask you too many questions Ranpo pulled you away leaving Atsushi alone to run errands with Yosano. You sighed seeing how satisfied Ranpo was as if he was a major hero stopping a great calamity.

 “Still doesn’t make up for giving Dazai the drawing but I’ll accept the apology.”

It wasn’t long until Kyouka was taken in and you were once again pushed to the side. Now you think you understand how Ranpo feels about knowing the ending of books. Again you stayed out of the fun only dropping your two cents when absolutely necessary. Atsushi asked if you wanted to tag along but you begrudgingly turned them down. Meaning you’d miss out on getting crepes later. You’d have to go out on your own time to get some. Which gave you an idea but it was still a day too early or was it? You remember Dazai pretended to be held longer but when did he actually sneak back? As the day came to an end you took your leave making sure no one else was around. You relaxed against his door in the standard cool guy position and started knocking.

“.... . -.-- , / .-- .- -. -. .- / --. . - / -.-. .-. . .--. . …”

“Hey, wanna get crepes”

He’d understand the morse code right? You had to look up a chart to figure it out. A brief moment passed with no answer. Oh well, you would still go to get a crepe. You were about to leave when you finally heard a very soft knocking from the otherside.

“.-- .... -.--”

“Why”

You had to pause, looking up what he said before you smirked to yourself. “If you do, I won't tell anyone you came back already.~” You said it in a sing-song way like it wasn’t a soft threat. There was a short beat before the door quickly opened and he pulled you inside. You yelped as you stumbled backwards but he put his hand over your mouth pulling you closer so he could close the door before anyone else saw. “Now what’s the real reason?” He seemed slightly irritated that you disturbed his peace. 

Ever since you came into the picture it feels like you can see through him and he's not used to someone else being able to do that since Chuuya. He's still wracking his brain trying to figure out how you do it because it still doesn't add up. Especially since Chuuya minded his own business for the most part and you've practically made it your goal to win this game that Dazai swears you both are not playing. You saw his palm twice, how can you know him like the back of your hand? He’s done his research and that’s not how palm reading works at all! You shouldn’t be able to get names from his palm or very specific details the way you’ve been. When he talked to Ranpo before Kyushu he was so sure that you weren’t reading palms at all but still it couldn’t be an ability so it had to be a secret third thing that he still hasn’t found out about. Disappointed would be an understatement for how deranged he felt when Ranpo came back and you saw through his trap. There was only one other person who has managed to counter his predictions in this way and he’s sure you are not a demon like he and Fyodor are. So what gives?

“Well Atsushi took the new girl for crepes and it sounded good. I can’t ask Ranpo out of spite. Yosano would rather get a drink. Kunikida doesn’t eat sugar past a certain hour and actually I didn’t even think about asking Kenji now that you mention it.” You played dumb making up random excuses as neither of you moved to change the position you were in. You were still being held slightly into his chest and leaned back far enough to need Dazai’s hold on you to stay balanced “Besides I figured you’d wanna get the taste out of your mouth after being reunited with your ex. I assume all you’ve had was cheap booze and canned crab?” He only frowned as you glanced over to his lazy set up. It looked like he was genuinely weighing out his options before his sinister smirk rested on his lips. He needed to gain the upperhand somehow. "Admit that you missed me and I'll go."

"What?" You were dumbstruck. You were the one with leverage. It was you who was supposed to be making demands not following orders. "You heard me just tell me that you missed me." He sneered, "I'm just trying to help you be more honest-"

"I missed you." Your cheeks were warmed by the confession but you held firm with no hesitation. Your voice was soft yet strong as if it was intended for his ears only. Like it was supposed to be your little secret.

Dazai was in a state of bewilderment, astonished that you actually said it back to him. He really didn't expect you to, and he didn't think it would be so genuine. He marveled at you for a while, for once he was at a loss for words. Your eyes held an unwavering conviction over the sentiment that he would rather not think about. Originally he was trying to garner more control over the position you placed him in but now it appears he's the one who played himself. He lowered his gaze letting his bangs shield his vision as he shifted you upright. Your unwavering stare made him tense. He wasn't used to this feeling of being uncomfortable. You really were his belladonna.

"Okay." 

Dazai sounded far away from himself. You desperately wondered what was running through his head. He started unbuttoning his vest as he opened his closet to pull out some more casual attire. He ran his hand through his hair pseudo slicking it back throwing on a pair of glasses. By the end Dazai looked like a different person as you went to get your reward. When you got there he ordered for you but you paid knowing that you were the one who invited, or well, forced him to come it should be your treat. Of course it was no surprise to you that Dazai had ordered you both the “Romeo and Juliet” which was chocolate ice cream, with freshly cut strawberries, two pieces of pocky, whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate sauce. You wonder if Dazai got it because of the flavor or because of the name because he couldn’t pass up the double suicide reference. Even if he didn’t order for you it’s the one you would have chosen because the one you wanted to try was already sold out and it was the next bestseller.

It was golden hour, painting the sky in beautiful yellows, oranges and hints of reds and purples. There seemed to be less people out and about right now which was good for Dazai. It also meant that you and him got to share this moment completely unbothered. Watching the sun set over the city and eating something sweet would be the perfect end to the peace. You had maybe a day or two before the guild showed up on your doorstep and you weren’t looking forward to the week of chaos when Q gets released into the world. Dazai had been unusually quiet but you didn’t mind just the fact that he came with you was enough. As you ate the last bite you noticed some of the ice cream dripped on the back of your hand. You were about to wipe it away with a napkin when Dazai finally spoke, grabbing for your hand.

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

He licked it up, placing a gentle kiss to where it used to be giving you a playful look. Little does Dazai know you actually played Juliet in highschool so without missing a beat you shifted your hands as you spoke.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

He didn’t seem that surprised as you continued the scene if anything he hummed with enthusiasm. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” Dazai smirked, leaning into your personal space. You wonder how far he’ll go “Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;

They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

Dazai interlace your fingers giving you eyes that pierced your soul. Were you guys playing chicken right now? Was this nerd chicken? If this was you didn’t want to lose but no matter what you did, it would be his win since you already took the bait. Savvy as always, he has tied you to a stake you cannot fly. 

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.” You had to come up with something otherwise you won’t hear the end of it.

“Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.” Dazai brought his free hand up to your cheek. You watched as his eyes closed as he started closing the distance. You quickly placed the kiss on his cheek instead of his lips. You whispered against his ear before pulling away “I already told you, saints do not move, and I am not that easy.” Implying that you weren’t a saint you grinned smugly.

He exhaled out of his nose “No you are not.” He matched your smile and stood up. Dazai was about to let go of your hand but you tighten your grip “Who said you could let go?” You would yield this round but that didn’t mean you were going to throw in the towel. You wanted to make it clear that you were enjoying the game. “Then after you my little belladonna~”

“With pleasure my little snake.” It didn’t have the same ring as mackerel but you tried.

You held hands all the way back to the dorm. The coast was clear but who knows for how long. You let go of his hand when you were outside of his room. “I won’t tell, scouts honor.” you held out your pinky to him. Everyone knows that pinky promises hold the most gravity in the court of law. After he shook on it he softly but swiftly made his escape.

You hummed to yourself “Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be-” you stopped, he wouldn't hear you so what’s the point “A few days from now.” You sighed, retiring to your room as well.

What you didn’t know was that Dazai did hear it from the other side of the door and he was smiling to himself.

[widowwaddles]

Don’t Go Baking My Heart - Part 3

Summary:  After a breakup, you decide to pack up your life and move to Westview. A  coworker recommends you join the local community's cooking class in  order to settle into the new town. It sounded like a great idea, you could learn a new skill (that you desperately need) and meet new people. However, nothing could have prepared you for the green-eyed beauty you  met during class. Maybe you'll end up leaving the class with more than  just a basic understanding of cooking.

Taglist:  @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​

Word count: ~4.1k

Masterlist

Part 4

--

How to Know You’ve Found the One

Waking up the next morning, you couldn’t help but reread the text on your phone with a smile. You haven’t been this happy in the morning in a while, and you knew it could only mean one thing - but you weren’t ready to admit it yet. It was no secret that you had the tendency to fall hard and fast. You were a hopeless romantic and led with your heart. Many people said they’d admire that trait about you and gushed how more people should be this way - before later going on to break yours. You’ve dealt with a lot of heartbreak, with your last relationship being the last straw. There were things you knew that you needed to work on - boundaries you needed to set within yourself - to ensure that your future relationships wouldn’t end like the last.

So you wrote it all in a letter. Detailing your hopes and dreams for the future, but most importantly being brutally honest about the patterns you tend to follow when falling for someone, despite wanting to break out of it. No matter how much you liked Wanda you didn’t want to fall into old habits. Not that anything would be happening anytime soon between you two - based on last night, Wanda is going through a lot more than she’s letting on. It was way too early to even think about getting into a relationship right now - considering you just met - but you couldn’t help but feel your heart race at the thought.  

Dear Y/n, 

If you’re reading this then you’ve found yourself with a bit of a crush. Who am I kidding, you must be really down bad if you’re reading this now. There’s no need to panic, who better to help you navigate during this challenging time than you from the past. I’ll make this nice and easy, but the first step is to breathe. You don’t have to fight it, It’s okay to enjoy this feeling - the rush. Just don’t let it consume you. You don’t always have to be the one to initiate things. Allow yourself to take the backseat this time and let them set the pace.  

Deciding to live by your words, you prepared for your day. You could do this, and maybe this was the best thing for your situation. You would be a fool to deny the connection you had made yesterday, but you could tell that Wanda was clearly going through something right now. You didn’t want to push her into anything she wasn’t ready for or worse, do something that causes her to push you away. You were willing to let her set the pace, and if friendship was what she needed now, then you’ll do just that. Sending Wanda a simple good morning text, you set off for work and for the first time since moving to Westview, you felt excited for the day ahead.

 ___

To say that Yelena was surprised to see your smiling face as you walked into work today would be an understatement.  Usually, it would take you at least two coffees and a meal to draw a genuine smile from your face during the workday.

“Someone looks happy, would you like to share with the class?” Yelena looks intrigued as to what has you in such a good mood today.

You try to hide your smile as you look away. You contemplated revealing everything that happened after class yesterday. You would love to have someone to confide in but you had to stop yourself. It was too early to say anything now and considering the circumstances you felt like you’d be breaking Wanda’s trust by discussing the more intimate details (aka Wanda breaking down). It definitely wouldn’t be a good start to a friendship, and if you planned on getting closer you’d need Wanda to have faith that you wouldn’t go gossiping about her private life (even if it is with your best friend).

“Can’t I just be happy to see my best friend today?” you say hoping she buys it. Who's to say you weren’t happy to see Yelena today?

“If this is your attempt at trying to suck up to me after yesterday, then you seriously need better material” she looks at you skeptically, clearly not buying it. “Plus, I forgave you after you gave me our precious creation, it was delicious”

“Actually, I don’t remember there ever being any sort of discussion regarding the pot pie. Just you saying goodbye before quickly running out of the building carrying a suspicious container” you recount your last memories of seeing Yelena. “But if it went to a good cause, who am I to question anything. I’m just happy it’s allowed you to spice up your usual diet”.

“Hey, don’t try to change the subject. What’s up with you today?” Yelena rolls her eyes not liking your last comment or your attempts to dodge her questions.

“It’s seriously nothing” you reply, not wanting to admit the truth of what has you feeling good today. “Can’t I have some mystery to my life?”.

“No”  Yelena looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?” she asks bluntly.

Your eyes widen and a light blush dusts your cheeks. It’s embarrassing how well she knows you.  

“Really? I’m happy for you Y/n, she must really be special if she has you like this” Yelena was genuinely happy for you, knowing how hard it’s been for you to make any sort of connection since you’ve been here. “So, tell me about her”

And here comes the hard part. You needed to go about this smartly, Yelena must not - under any circumstances - know the identity of the woman who’s stolen your heart. You needed to be cool and nonchalant about this.

“She’s perfect” you immediately gush. “I’ve never had this feeling before about anyone this quickly, I mean I barely know her. I don’t think anything is going to be happening between us anytime soon though so you cannot say anything.” you ramble. Definitely, way too much information that you planned on divulging to her.

“Don’t worry I won’t. But if you’re saying this then it must be someone I know” she’s piecing this together much faster than you hoped. “Hmmm…Do you want to tell me or should I try to guess who it is?” she has her hand on her chin as if a detective on their latest case.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” you start but she’s showing no signs of stopping. Shifting your eyes nervously, you look at your cup of coffee and  blurt the first name that comes to mind

“Sharon”

“Huh, as in the barista?” she never would have guessed that you would be into Sharon Carter, based on how shallow your conversations have been so far. When did you even get her number, you literally only talk about coffee when you’re in the coffee shop she works at. “I was gonna say, Wanda, I mean you could practically smell the tension between you,” she admits, starting to feel less confident about her answer after your revelation. How could she have missed this supposed connection you had with Sharon?

“Pshhh, you must be seeing things,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t even think Wanda likes me that way anyways,” you say sadly, staring blankly at your computer.

“Sure whatever you say Y/n, but you’re an idiot if you don’t see the way Wanda looks at you” she doesn’t say anything further, and you were thankful for that. You began to dwell on her words - it couldn’t possibly be true. You didn’t know why you were psyching yourself out, I mean, this is the best possible scenario. Yet, something inside is preventing you from fully believing it - a part of you that knows that once you get your hopes up it would only end in disappointment.

I know it may make you feel anxious or insecure, causing you to question whether the connection you felt was real (and reciprocated). And, I’m not gonna lie it’s gonna be difficult, giving up some control of the situation and letting the fates decide, but I promise you it’s worth it. Let them prove to you that they can make an effort. You need to recognize that the progression of a relationship isn’t dependent on one person. And when the time finally comes, and you receive that one sign that confirms the feelings between you is mutual, it’s the best feeling in the world.  

  Wanda  :

Hey, sorry I’ve been pretty busy today. Will you be free this Friday to meet up? I want to see you again.  

—  

It’s been three days since you received Wanda’s text and now it was finally the day you’ve been waiting for, Friday. Sitting in the coffee shop, you’re nervously awaiting Wanda’s arrival. You may or may not have come 30 minutes earlier than the agreed-upon time. You take a deep breath and try to remind yourself to stay calm. I mean it was only your first time hanging out with Wanda outside of class. You simply needed to look at this situation as two friends hanging out and not a date.

It was about another 15 minutes before you saw a brunette walk through the door. She anxiously looked around the shop, trying to find an empty seat before making eye contact with you. She seems surprised to see you before relief floods her face. She immediately walks over to you, with a smile.

It’s too early to decide anything yet, but take notice of everything. Are they always late when you arrange to spend time together? When they first see you, is this their first instinct to smile or grimace? Consider this moment, the official first impression - it will be the deciding factor in if this moves forward.  

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you here so early” she greets you nervously. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long”.  

“Hey Wanda, you didn’t I just got here a minute ago, don’t worry” you greet her, the small lie slipping past your lips with confidence. She looks at the table, noticing you’ve already ordered a medium coffee and two bagels.

“And you just so happened to order all of that and it arrived half-eaten?” she asks knowingly, having to suppress her giggle. “The service here must really suck”.

“It’s not too bad” you scratch your neck, knowing you’ve been caught. “I would love to buy you something though, from the uneaten side of the menu” you rush out, desperately wanting to change the subject.

“Smooth” she teases. “I’ll take a Jasmine tea and a muffin”

 You quickly stand up from your seat and go to the cashier to order. You even surprised Wanda with how quick you were but the look was quickly replaced with an endearing smile as she watched you stumble to the front.

“I want a Jasmine tea and a muffin” you order.

“Wow, Y/n. Did you finish the coffee and bagels already?” the blonde barista jokes.

“Haha, very funny Sharon, but I’ll have you know that this isn’t for me” you reply. You and Yelena are regulars at this coffee shop, so it’d only make sense that you were friendly with Sharon and the other baristas here.

Sharon looks back to where you were seated and notices the pretty brunette waiting at the table.

“Ahhh, I see. Well, in that case, I’ll make it on the house” she says kindly.

As she prepares your order you continue to make casual conversation with Sharon, with her trying to get as many details about your little date. Wanda watches this interaction from afar and has to suppress the little green monster threatening to come out. She doesn’t understand why watching you speak to the blonde barista makes her feel so jealous, considering you were only friends (for now). She has to hide her glare, when you turn back around, giving her a bright smile and holding up 2 fingers - indicating her order should be ready soon.

“Here you go” Sharon says as she hands you the tea.

“Thanks Sharon, I owe you one”

“No worries but hey” she says with a concerned look. “Have you noticed that Yelena’s been acting weird?”

You instantly knew what she was referring to. You and Yelena are regulars at this coffee shop, so it’d only make sense that you were friendly with Sharon and the other baristas here. Ever since revealing to Yelena that you liked Sharon (romantically) she’s elected herself as your wingman and has been trying to leave hints to the barista that you wanted something more. It’s been very embarrassing but Sharon didn’t seem very perceptive to it until Yelena flat-out asked if she found you attractive. Thankfully, she was a good sport about it and brushed it off. You hoped that she would have just forgotten about it, but appears she has not. Now you were put in the awkward position of explaining it to her, which required a delicate hand. You look at Sharon kindly.  

“You know how she is” you left it as that before rushing back to your table. You seriously needed to have a conversation with Yelena about being subtle. You could only imagine how much worse it would be if she finds out that Wanda is the one you actually liked ( *cough cough* read the Valentine's Day Special).

You set her order on the table and Wanda looks at you thankfully, as she begins to eat. The conversation flows between you two, and it feels refreshing. You both couldn’t hide your smiles as you finished your outing.

Walking out of the coffee shop together, you noticed that Wanda’s car wasn’t in the parking lot. Wanda walks with you to your car, brushing against you with each step. When you reach the door you turn back to Wanda.

“I enjoyed this, spending time with you today” Wanda fiddled with her hands nervously. “I don’t want it to end”, she finishes glumly.

“Well it doesn’t have to” you have a hopeful look you weren’t ready to say goodbye either. “I’m still not familiar with the area -unless for food- so would you maybe…want to come to my place? We could watch a movie and cook dinner together, I’m still not too confident with my skills in the kitchen” and now you’re rambling. She looks at you inquisitively. “Feel free to say no, I don’t want to pressure you” you rush out, beginning to regret your invitation.

“You’re seriously asking your cooking instructor to come cook for you” she teases. “Wow Y/n, I’ve never had one of my students propose such a thing. Are my classes not enough?”

“Well what can I say, I’m in desperate need of private lessons. I learn better one-on-one” you flirtatiously joked. Her cheeks went red instantly, and you couldn’t hide your laugh.

“I’d love to,” she says warmly. “Plus from what Yelena’s told me, you’d probably starve tonight if I didn’t come”

“Hey, she’s much worse than me. I at least have a variation to my diet” you defend yourself. You couldn’t believe that Yelena had the audacity to complain to Wanda about your eating habits.

“You both could use the help,” she says attempting to stay neutral. You give her a knowing look, but she avoids your eyes. “Shall we get going?”

Walking over to the passenger door of your car, you open the door for her.

“After you milady,” you say charmingly. She gets in shyly, before flashing you a small smile. You close the door and walk back to your side. This is a good day.

 —

When you arrive at your apartment, you lead Wanda to your door. Nervousness filled your body, this was the first time you’d invited someone over -not even Yelena has seen your apartment yet.

“I just want to warn you before you go in” you begin to unlock your door. “Lower all of your expectations. I’m still in the process of decorating so” you open the door, allowing her to go through first.

“Wow” she walks at everything your living room has to offer. A couch and tv, nothing else. “It looks great”. She eyes your kitchen before looking at you for permission. You walked with her to the kitchen, knowing she was not gonna be too happy with what she finds.

“Your counters look a bit bare, but I guess that makes sense if you barely cook” she analyzes before opening your refrigerator. “It’s completely empty!” quickly closing the door, and opening your cabinets. “WHY DO YOU HAVE NOTHING IN HERE?” she glares at you.

“I just haven’t gotten around to it yet” holding your hands up in defense, you know it’s a weak response.

“You’ve been here for more than a month, how much more time do you need?” she gawks, she couldn’t believe this was real.

“You-you’re not allowed to look so surprised, I joined your class for a reason. What happened to your optimistic ‘anyone can cook’ attitude?”.

“Most people come to learn a new recipe or two. You need an intervention” she says bluntly. “I’m depressed just being in here. I don’t even know how you’ve survived this long” she looks so disappointed when she gets closer to you, offering a gentle hug and rubbing your back. You enjoy it until you begin to feel her grip tighten. Uh oh. She must have seen it.

Pushing you away, Wanda walks to your trash can and points at the numerous takeout bags - from the last 3 days - piling up to the top.

“Really?”

“I thought you’d be happier to see that I’m eating well” you joke, but Wanda doesn’t seem to find it very funny.

“We’re going to the grocery store now. Let’s go” she orders, leaving no room for any further discussion on the matter. Part of you was surprised by her tone, but a (much) larger part was kinda into it. She looks hot when she’s angry and in charge. “Now” she’s looking at you impatiently, not wanting to leave the lady waiting - you scramble to get your keys and follow her out the door.

 —

The next thing to ask yourself is: How do they make you feel? And you have to be honest, don’t let the butterflies influence your answer. Can you truly be yourself around them, or do you feel like you have to play a role in order to get their acceptance? You need to know the difference, as this has led to the downfall of all of your relationships. You need to start living for yourself - as your authentic self - even in your relationships. Don’t change yourself, if they are truly worth it then they’d accept you, flaws and all.  

You’ve never been one to like going to the grocery store. For one, you did not know how to buy food, like a responsible adult that is taking care of their body, or whatever Wanda called it. In your defense, your taste in food hasn’t changed much since getting older, so you bought things when you were a kid. Which was why your cart filled up with more snacks than actual food you had to cook. Wanda changed that quickly, getting a cart of her own and filling it with healthier options. You had honestly thought she was shopping for herself until you got to the checkout and she asked you to watch her cart while she went to grab something. She took your cart and never came back.

Leaving the grocery store, you actually felt happy. You were not looking forward to putting the groceries up but you’ve never had so much fun in the store. Usually, you’re being dragged around the store, not having much of a say over what’s being bought besides the occasional and reluctant ‘fine but only one’. Wanda never made you feel bad about yourself and when you saw her exiting the store with a small bag of your favorite snacks understood she wasn’t trying to completely bulldoze your life. You’ve never had someone care this much about what you were putting into your body, while also taking consideration into what you liked. Her plan wasn’t to completely change but just to make sure you’d live longer with a more (age) appropriate diet. Maybe if you could watch Wanda talk animatedly about the importance of organic fruits and vegetables in your diet, you’d always enjoy your time in the grocery store. You’ll definitely have to ask her to come with you next time, though you know she’d probably volunteer.

Arriving back home, Wanda arranged your new groceries into your fridge and cabinets. She had a satisfied look on her face as she looked at her work. She was almost satisfied enough to leave. Keyword almost - she didn’t have much faith that you would just order takeout again instead of cooking the food you just bought. She helped you prepare a simple meal and you enjoyed it while watching Friends in your living room. You learned Wanda was more of a sitcom person, preferring shows from the 50s-60s. When you revealed that you’ve never seen sitcoms from this era she almost took your remote to start an episode, but you came up with a compromise by designating a night where you would replicate the events of today but instead end with a huge binge of these shows.

 —

Your day with Wanda has officially come to an end, much faster than any of you hoped. As you pull up to Wanda’s house, you see her car in the driveway. Wanting to make sure she made it inside safely, you walk her to the door. The walk is silent with a light tension growing between you as you stand there just looking at each other. You want to make a move, but you still weren’t completely confident that Wanda would want that.

“We should do this again” You give her a small smile.

“Yeah we should,” she confirms. “I might need to make weekly visits to make sure you’re eating well” she ends teasingly.

“Well, I’ll hold you to it then,” you say before turning around. “I’ll see you soon Wanda”

“Please” Her hand grabs yours, preventing you from going any further. “Don’t go yet” her voice sounds so weak.

Pulling you back towards her, you see the hesitance in her eyes. Concerned, you move closer to her and squeeze her hand - that was still holding onto your tightly - in reassurance. She really doesn’t want you to leave yet. In a leap of courage, she leans forward first, and you follow suit. Your lips connect in a soft, yet passionate kiss, even you began to feel overwhelmed with emotion for some reason and she pulled away - you understood why.

“I want this, but I don’t know if I deserve to have it” she ends with a whisper, you could barely hear what she said. Tears started to escape her eyes, but before you could ask what was going on.

BEEP

Suddenly the sound of a car horn makes you jump apart. You hadn’t even noticed the other car pulling into the driveway.

“Mom!” a tiny voice screams from inside the car.

“Dad brought us to get ice cream, look how many scoops mine has, '' another voice says, as the car door opens.

Two young boys run towards Wanda, eager to tell her about their latest adventure to the ice cream shop. They didn’t even notice you standing there until they felt their mother stiffen, as they hugged her legs. Looking at you with innocent, yet questioning eyes, they pull away from Wanda and stand in front of you. Wanda uses this time to quickly wipe her face.

“Who’s this mom?”

“This is my new friend -”

“Y/n, and I was just leaving. I hope you enjoy your ice cream boys” you cut her off not wanting to stand there any longer, you rush back to the car - mumbling a quick goodbye. As you walked back, you saw a tall figure exit from the car and walk up to Wanda and the children. He ruffles their hair, noticing they were still watching you as you sat in your car.  Gathering their attention, he stares at them as he opens the front door.

“Okay kiddos, back inside we go. And let’s avoid making a mess this time” he says the last part firmly. You’re too distracted with your own internal meltdown to notice that the man completely ignores Wanda as he walks into the house. She looks so broken.

Deciding you’ve outstayed your welcome, you drive back home trying (and failing) to keep the tears at bay.

And if you listened to everything I’ve said so far, and they’re still here then you probably met a keeper, don’t ever let them go. For the first time ever you know your heart will be safe with someone and you’ll take security in knowing that they wouldn’t break it. Enjoy this feeling. 

Ouch.

[ransprang]

how about heath ledger's joker and corruption kink? hehehe

Kinktober 2023

Joker x Corruption Kink

Joker’s eyes widened as he smacked his lips in amusement looking down at his phone. You stood before him with your face contorted with worry as your eyes brimmed with tears and cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. “Please keep your phone down…”

Joker looked up at you “this is horrendous, horrible, might I say degenerate.”

He continued “didn’t know you are such a misfit y/n” he laughed loudly chucking the phone at the table in front. You looked horrified, Joker had found your tumblr.

You walked up to him and held his arm “that was supposed to be my little secret…” hoping this won’t make the man leave you. Joker looked you in the eyes his expression suddenly all serious “you’re filthy muck of this society, you could never be one of them. Pervert.” He smacked his lips as he cupped your face intimidatingly in his hands, Joker brought his face close, his nose touching yours as he said “Why…so serious?”

You were shocked as the man instantly pulled away and laughed while howling “you really thought that would disgust me? Come on now? I’ve thought worse for Batman.” He continued while getting breathless from laughter.

A sigh of relief escaped your mouth, you smirked back. You were disgusting and he loved that. “What kind of thoughts do you have for Batman?” You said twirling your hair hoping to draw ideas for your next post.

Joker now laying on the couch hopped up with a jolt “y/n you won’t understand them, no no no you won’t” he walked around the room shaking his head.

- “haven’t you seen my content? Of course I would.” You retorted.

Joker smacked his lips now bringing his gaze to your eyes “filthy filthy y/n let me share with you a story.” He twirled and continued “there was once a man who had a fantasy, of tying another to the walls of his house and kissing till both were breathless. As his hot thick penis throbbed to enter the walls of the human in front, he teased his own tip, cuz FUCK the pleasure of other people.” He began laughing.

You looked at him invested, now sitting down on the dining table with your face cupped in your hands. Looking at him starry eyed. “Please tell me more!” Joker immediately stopped laughing as he cleared his throat. “ah yes, well then he rubbed his bare chest on the soft skin, the chest of the one tied on the wall. The friction made his heart beat faster, his Dick throbbed. Ached to be rubbed. Hands struggled against the ropes, as I touch myself and start stroking my shaft, looking at the nude body in front of me.”

Joker stood by the window, staring into the twilight sky. It looked like he was searching the horizon, as he spoke in a low voice “I increase my stroking speed rapidly as I feel the burning desire within my body, the chains clank as the body whimpers. Oh to deprave someone of touch when they want you so badly, I feel my tip tingle as my stomach contracts and I release my thick white cum.” He takes out a cigarette and smokes it blowing the smoke into the light breeze outside the window as his smile is now gone.

You get up fascinated, you have respect in your eyes. You love this man, he inspired you. You ran and hugged him from the back tightly, knowing you were going to write many fanfics thanks to your dear boyfriend. “I love you” you whispered. He continued smoking…as you said again “can we please do this today?” Joker shuffled his feet and turned around to face you. He hugged you back and calmly said “I’ll get the ropes and chains out” As he walked away.

your joker,

admin sav

[fictionalmenxyn]

Artistic Problems,

Ghost x artist!s/o

Tw:mental breakdown, swearing, hyperventilating, panic attack and I believe that’s it.

—————————————————————

Sitting at your desk, you had been drawing for an ungodly amount of hours. This project meant a lot for you as it was your finale piece for a big project you had going on. You were adding as much detail as possible, you wanted this to look thee best it could.

Sitting in many different positions as possible on one small chair didn’t help your back either. With thee amount of time put into this also caused back pain, but you didn’t care as you wanted to get this piece of art done and to make it look perfect.

Ghost, he was sat downstairs watching tv. He liked what you two called ‘quiet time’ because he is a quiet person and likes some time to himself. So it was perfect almost. He’d come and bring you some drinks or snacks and compliment your art every time he came to see you. He was slightly worried for you, it was almost midnight. He noticed you hadn’t had any breaks from your project, it was like never coming up for air if you were swimming.

He was watching tv, but all of a sudden the tv flickered off and so did the lights through the house. He raised an eyebrow but quickly whipped his head around to look at the living room door; as he heard you almost scream at the top of your lungs. He knew something was wrong.

Running upstairs, he went to your office and opened the door. Seeing your figure standing, looking down at the what once was your finale project. He reached in his pocket to grab his phone. Pulling his phone out he quickly turned the flash on. You turned around and said “Simon… what happened?!” He spoke “I think the powers been cut off, I think the whole street has too?”

You started to feel tears stream down your face. You started to panic, feeling a wave of different emotions coming over you. Ghost asked “love you alright?” He started to walk over to you and then you snapped “no, course not. My art has been deleted cause of the fucking internet!” Ghost was quite shocked at your reaction. He never thought you’d switch like this, your usually calm and collected; but when it comes to stuff like this it’s something different.

You battered your eyelashes in shock and mumbled “I’ve lost it all, Si” you looked at the ground and felt slightly dizzy. Ghost noticed and said “come on, love. Let’s go sit down on the bed and I’ll get you some water.” You cried “I spent so much time on that project. It’s all gone now, none of it would’ve saved. It’s so fucking annoying” he placed his arm gently around your shoulder and guided you to your chewed room.

Sitting on the bed, you scrunched yourself up into a hall. Knees to your chest as you cried to yourself. Ghost walked into the room, he saw your hands with fists full of your hair as you scrunched your hands in your hair. You were angry, why did the power have to go out today? Why not tomorrow or next week?

He watched as your knuckles went white, he slowly walked over and sat on the bed. He placed a hand on your back. He spoke softly “love, I have some water and biscuits for you.” You looked up he noticed your eyes now turned red from all your tears. He handed you the water as that’s what you wanted, you took a few sips and handed it back. The short time of silence was now over when you spoke “why did it have to happen today?” He shrugged and said “maybe the weather?” You said “or just my luck, I always have bad luck” Ghost spoke “do you still remember what your project looked like?” You nodded as you rested against Ghost. He offered an idea “maybe you could quickly sketch it down before you forget it ?” You smiled a little as you looked up to him and you spoke “thank you, I see your trying to help me. Sorry for snapping at you earlier it’s just-” Ghost cut you off “no need to apologise, I can understand how frustrating it is when you plan something and it all goes wrong.” You hugged him and said “thanks for understanding.” He asked “would you like me to get your sketch book?” You nodded and spoke “please, I’ll sketch it out then.” He nodded as he left.

Coming back he saw you had now changed and were under the cover. You lifted the cover up so he could come and sit next to you. You grabbed the pencil and sketch book for him and started straight away. As Ghost got comfortable, he started to watch you sketch away. It was mesmerising to him, how easy it looked when you drew. But when he would attempt all he would end up drawing was a stick figure with a skull face.

As you were finished, you flipped the page over and started to draw something else. As Ghost watched carefully he noticed it was something quite familiar. Turns out you were drawing his mask, but you added a twist to it so it would look more of your style. He muttered “should get you one like that” you smiled and replied “that’d be nice, we’d match.” He nodded in agreement.

Ghost does whatever he can do in order to make you happy or calm. When your stressed out it makes him almost feel the same way. So he does his best to make you, you again. He smiled when he watched you draw as he knows it’s your passion. He just loves you too much to watch you be stressed or upset, it makes his heart break at times. But no matter what he’ll love you.

Hope you enjoyed!

Make sure to message/ask if you want

Have a good day/night!🫶

[el-buzz]

📚 Cg! Clay HCS!!! 💚🎶

Aggagaggaggag first hc list I do EVERRR (so please be kind (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) /💗💗)

Cg! Clay x Agere! Reader!!

pretty much gender neutral!!

Cw: caps lock (just me having happy outbursts), um lotsa author notes and commentary I just wanna talk about him and about how he would be as a cg :ccc, also this is incredibly self indulgent

Also there was no proof reading ☠️

(Crossposted on ao3 @Soft_Buzz!! oh and I’ll update this if I get a new hc idea)

Anyways here you go 💚:

•nicknames for you: kiddo, baby, bubba, bubba wubba (he’s squeezing your cheeks and baby talking you 😭😭), prince/princess/ lil highness/royal, and a number of other sweet nicknames or any that you prefer!

•he would be suuuuuch a sweet and doting caregiver waaaaaaah but he would definitely ensue rules for you! Calm and Strict(ish) cg! Clay would pull up to make sure you are safe and healthy even if you are feeling big!!

•he’d hate to see you hurt or sick, but he’d do everything thing in his power to nurse you back to health :]!

•Clay would definitely provide his kiddo with healthy snack or with fruit or veggie cups!

•Although Clay’s sorta strict he can be soooo soft he always want to hold you, whether it’s your hand/pinkie or cuddle up with you.

•You are his battery and he wants to recharge.

* HE WOULD SOOOO READ TO YOUUUU AHHH he loooooves reading so ofc he’d love to share that interest with his little one

• (please it’s the cutest thing ever)

• imagine him beside you with a book open (he has his reading glasses on :3) and as he reads, he gives all the different characters different voices and will always put emotion into his reading voice, which always leads to you giggling or you gasping in surprise.

• One time you insisted that you were big enough for his sad book club and that you wouldn’t become a big puddle of tears so he gave you Charlotte’s Web to read.

• You were a mess. You didn’t stop being sad for the next couple of HOURS (yes this is a reference to that JD fan art ifykyk☠️)

• Clay had to give you so many hugs, cuddles, and kisses to make up for it. He thought it’d be funny, but he sorta forgot how emotional of a little one you can be.

• “I’m so so sorry baby.” *kiss* “How can I make it up to you?? I’ll do anything”

• oh you’d grin a that. You choose to either do dress up WITH make up or draw on his face and mess around with his hair. AND ice cream.

• You took soooo many pictures (and you may or may have not shared them with Viva, Poppy, and his brothers) Clay says he hates you for it, but secretly believes it was so worth it to see that sparkle in your eyes

• he bought you a piggy and a spider (with little bb spiders) stuffie. Even if you have arachnophobia, you hugged those stuffies while crying happy tears. You gave him a tight hug which he softly returned and gave you a forehead kiss.

• (This whole event was also the birth of your happy scrapbook club!! (even though it just you :} ) )

• You and Clay will just sit together while reading different things. Him with some well recognized and praised novel or book and you with a happy lil scrapbook in your hands!

• I’d also like to think he has a puppet character like Bandit does with unicorse! (Maybe a dragon but that just me :])

• (Clay and Branch be matching with their ventriloquism skills lol)

• If you seem to be clumsy or fall often he starts to develop a sort of spider sense for it and will catch you before disaster happens

• OKOK I know this is gonna sound random buuuut I believe Clay is the type to carry lollipops, and sometimes other candy, around. Idk like I can just picture him a with a lollipop in his mouth trying to look all serious/mysterious and nonchalant LOL

• ANYWAYS back to the Agere stuff

• I think that after completing a task or being good, Clay would def give his kiddo a lollipop as a treat!! that orrrrr if his kiddo seems to be regressing in public and they really want/need a paci or just something to fixate on then boom!!! Lollipop! :D

• Talking about rewards

• This man would sooooo spoil you!! you’re his treasure and he wants you to know it!!

• He’ll either get you food you’ve been craving or a stuffed animal/little gear orrrr both!!

• (Because of the two of you, you now have a chest fuuuull of stuffies Woops💧)

• You always try to show your appreciation by giving him small handmade gifts!! A lil pop up card, bead bracelets (you definitely have matching bracelets), even something crocheted/knitted, and pretty much any arts n crafts you can make!

• Now onto funny business ( •̀ - • )!

• so ofc when it first came to having fun and being playful with you he was bit scared

• can you blame him???

• He’d spent A LOT of time trying to get rid/away from the tittle of being the fun boy

• Ofc through lot of reassurance you let him know that he can have fun and play with you and still be a very serious caregiver!

• you help him understand that being funny and silly every once in a while doesn’t hurt and that he should try to find a balance that work for him! Which he eventually does :D!!

• I like to believe that he’d be great at playing pretend and hide and seek!

• “Worry not your highness!! You will protect you from the dragon!” (It’s one of your plushies)

• “Wherever could my kiddo be?? They must have turned invisible!!” (he can hear your giggles which just makes his smile wider)

• Although he really tries to be there for you, he’s a reaaaally busy man :((( but he still tries to spend time with you through parallel play! While he’s doing his grown up paperwork, you get to colooor!! (or draw or scrapbook or anything really) as long you promise to be good and not distract him

• (plus the sooner he’s done the sooner he can give you all his attention! so it’s a win-win situation :D)

• Actually if you were feeling extra lil you’d just get a paper and scribble on it with crayon trying to copy Clay’s mannerisms (when he sees this he’s physically holding himself back from just picking you up, cradling you, and just babying you waaaah you’re gonna be the end of him)

• oh and he would sooo keep your little artworks in his working area (they bring a sweet smile to his face and warm his soul you’re the best kiddo he could have ever asked for)

• You also get to have cuddles while he works! Sometimes he’ll just sit you on his lap with a stuffie or two while he wraps an arm around you and litters your head or face with kisses!

• Now onto not so funny business ૮๑ˊᯅˋ๑ა

• sometimes Clay’ll have a rough or tiring day :((

* and that’s okk caregivers have their moments too!

• He’ll usually want to cuddle with you and hold you close. (You are his stuffie :D)

• He might even tickle you or blow raspberries on your tummy (if you give him permission ofc!!) which often leaves you with a giggling and squirming fit.

• He just loves seeing you laugh and smile (especially if it’s him who made you happy :] you just brighten his day so much sometimes)

• One time he was just so tired and just laying down on the couch and then you brought one stuffie to him and then two till you pretty much had him buried under almost all of your stuffies!!

* You then proceeded to lay on top of him, and Clay just sticks both arms out from under the pile while smiling softly with his eyes closed.

• Let’s just say you guys woke up with stuffed animals scattered eeeeeverywhere

• If you’re a kiddo/baby who tends to get overwhelmed easily, he’ll get you some noise canceling/dampening headphones and just wraps you in a soft blanket like a little burrito.

• He’ll also either get you an eye mask or will lower the lights if he can. (And if you’re feeling lil enough then a paci too!!)

• After doing any of this, he’ll just bring you onto his lap and whisper sweet lil nothings to you till you feel better or seem to fall asleep :D!

• would enforce a bed time >:( (he is a very very veeeery serious guy after all)

• but luckily bedtime means a bottle or sippy of sweet sleepy tea and a storyyyy :D!!

• Forehead kisses!! (CALL ME BIASED CAUSE I LOOOOOVE FOREHEAD KISSES but I stand by what I say.

• Oh and if he’s ever gonna to be very busy for the day and he won’t be able to take care of his kiddo, he’d ask Viva to help him take care of you!!

• Plus who doesn’t love babysitter Viva??? She’s so energetic and fun with you, but she’ll definitely tone it down for you 💛

• she’s also super strong so she’ll definitely carry you or give you a piggy back ride if you ask :>!

• She also give you lots of candies and sugary foods but shhhhh don’t tell Clay itsa secret (but I think the sugar rush/crash you have when he picks you up from Viva’s tells him more than enough

• (I feel like he would trust all his brothers with you (especially Bruce) except JD 😭😭)

• He would sooooo grab your cheeks and squeeze them like he did to Branch when first seeing him again

• Expect him to do that whenever he just wants to dote on you and baby you even if you’re feeling bigger than usual he just loves youuuu! 💚💚💚

In summary: I need this man bc he is the bestest boyfriend and caregiver ever!!

Final notes!:

I love likes but comments and reposts are greatly appreciate (I love to talk if you can’t tell) type something out and let me know what you think 💗💗

If anybody would like to use any of the hcs/scenarios for a fanfic tots fine with me just don’t forget to tag me for credit and so I can see it :DD!!