#the most severe of whiplashes

[takaraphoenix]

What in the world did Harley Quinn Romances make me read here though.

When they all gathered around the table and it was revealed to be a gathering of Arthur’s exes, I genuinely had a brief moment of a heart attack, at a huge Arthur/Dinah shipper, because Dinah was sitting at that table.

And then this is it. These two pages. Dinah cries. Arthur sees her cry, immediately humps off... and... uh... and then he’s portrayed like some kind of playboy who let her hanging? This even makes it look like she was the one who was trying to run after him (which, as a shipper, I would appreciate).

But this honestly just does Arthur so fucking dirty? Lori’s story, having him be hung up on Dolphin, is at least legit. But this is just a cringe OoC take on Arthur?

You got my hopes up and then you crushed them badly. Though don’t think I won’t be clutching that “Dinah had her hopes up” close to my heart for a long, long time to come, DC.

[ifartconfetti]

Dungeon meshi really is

Comedy comedy comedy RACISM comedy THE MOST FUCKED UP FATE YOU'VE EVER HEARD comedy comedy CHARACTER THOUGHT HIS CARETAKERS MADE HIM PARTAKE I CANNIBALISM IN A STARVATION EVENT comedy comedy comedy GREED comedy MASS KILLING comedy comedy

[guiltyidealist]

Little guy(s) from an indie Czech game stimboard

x x x x x x x x x Banner

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Man I want nothing more than all of my s/is to meet each other because the conversations would be insane 😂💖💖💖 Specifically rn I'm thinking about my Sonic s/i and Crash Bandicoot s/i meeting, of course both of them serve (and date) an evil scientist hell bent on world domination, but the DIFFERENCE in how they see their evil hubbies couldnt be more night and day 😂💖💖

[bonestrouslingbones]

there is genuinely no reason for me to be suddenly thinking about rogue and smiley so much lately since i literally do not have anything Coming Soon for them but . i have just realized . that they would both be in or very near their thirties . good LORD

[neonteeth]

kind of want to try my hand at drawing in the absolution style

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

I hope whatever is going on in your life, things go your way.

Take care of yourself, drink some water <3

Thank you, it is much appreciated. It's just Everyone I've Ever Known has wanted to spontaneously do things with me after weeks of radio silence. Which is great, but super stressful! I'm very exhausted atm, so I'll be catching some Zs shortly and will hopefully get some writing done later this week

[teethrotter]

christorian artists are so talented and for what

[tomb-mold]

i know these things tend to be cyclical, and any form of progress for any oppressed group is often met with societal backlash; the pendulum swing and all that. but the rampant misogyny and MRA bullshit that came as a reactionary response to even the most lukewarm forms of feminism in the past few years has been so swift and severe that i almost got whiplash seeing people talk about like the harassment that women face in the workplace and the wage gap and all that, a few years ago- to girls saying that women shouldnt be allowed to work, they should be stay at home wives who care for their poor helpless little husband who has it so hard. that the equal rights movement stole their divine femininity or whatever. like girl WHAT

[boopjuice]

Human's Are Space Orcs: Sticks and Stones

Tools are hardly uncommon in the Galactic Federation. Without them, not a single species would have been able to advance, create sustainable food sources, societies, spacecraft. But, for most species, tools have advanced alongside the species.

"Human Jane, what is that you are holding?"

"A stick."

"... Why do you have a stick?"

"In case I need to scratch my back, duh. Or to hit the engine if it acts up again."

Humans, as with much else, didn't get the memo.

Chi'l'zak had spent several cycles with humans, even spending time on their native planet and some of their interstellar colonies. Their weather was horrifying, and their culture so diverse it gave xem whiplash. It was on one of these trips that xe learned of the human's particular affinity for tools.

Xe was at what Human Sarah had called a 'beach' at one of the colonies, and xe saw as an adolescent human began to dig a fire pit. Except, instead of using a shovel, he had grabbed a nearby piece of driftwood and began to use it to dig. Xe was certain the efforts would be fruitless, the stick being rounded and not suitable for digging. But in twenty minutes there was a pit a meter deep, deeper if one counted the walls the adolescent human had made from the excavated sand.

Xe had brushed it off as human stubbornness and continued with xir trip unfazed, until Human Lake had wanted to go hiking. Chi'l'zak agreed, not truly understanding the point of simply walking up and down mountains but willing to try the experience and see if maybe xe could gain some anthropological notes on the subject. Halfway up the mountain Human Lake called a halt. he wandered into the trees for a moment and returned with a stick almost as tall as he was.

"We can rest here for a while. I've been needing a new walking stick, and this one's just gorgeous."

"But, Hu- Lake, why do you need walking assistance? You have been perfectly fine up until this point. Are you injured? Should I apply first aid?"

"Nah, I'm fine, 'zak. I don't need one, they're just nice to lean on when you're hiking. Plus their fun to have. makes me feel like a wizard, y'know? But I gotta smooth this one down if I'm gonna use it, or I'll have splinters in my hands for days."

Chi'l'zak didn't mind the rest, and took the time to simply observe the flora and fauna in the area, absorb some nutrients from xir pack of supplies, and-

*scrape* *scrape* *scrape*

As Chi'l'zak looked over, xe found Human Lake seated on the ground, legs fcrossed in a manner that was normal for humans but made xir fur stand on end. He had balanced the stick across his legs, and was scraping it with a rock he'd apparently found nearby.

"Human Lake, what are you doing?"

"Smoothing out the stick, like I said." He didn't look up from the task he'd set himself too, continuing to scrape the rock along the stick, occasionally hitting it against small branches to knock them off.

"Yes, but why are you using a rock? Surely there are better tools. I have heard tell of a common smoothing agent, 'sand paper,' that would be better suited to the task."

"Don't have sandpaper on me. Besides, the premise works the same. Rub two rough things together and the softer things gets smooth. Sure, a rock isn't going to have as fine a grain as some sandpapers, but it works in a pinch."

"but we are not in a 'pinch', as you say. We are perfectly capable of taking the stick back with us and getting sand paper."

"Look, the rock works just fine for me, and it's cheaper. No point wasting money when i have the tools to do the job already."

"Human lake, that is a rock. That isn't a tool."

"Sure it is, if you get creative enough. You can use it to smooth things, hit things, if you angle it like this you can probably use it to dig, and you could always throw it. Hell, I'll bet you this end here could be used to open that stupid finnicky pressure lock Jacob's been complaining about."

"But it isn't mean to do those things. It could damage the lock worse, or break the wrong things."

"Look, 'zak, i appreciate the concern, but a tool is what you make of it. If I've got some nails I need hammered down and all I've got to hand is a rock, then I'm going to use the rock until the rock breaks or the nails are hammered. Just because we have tools better designed for a task doesn't always mean we need to use them. Sometimes old ways work just fine."

Chi'l'zak was quiet the rest of the time Human Lake used the stone to smooth the surface of his new walking stick, and had quite the interesting talk with him the rest of the hike about old human tools, how they were used, selected or constructed. Xe learned about spears and bows and how some still used those tools for hunting. Learned of tools used in leatherworking, all made of bone since the first leatherworkers had found nothing better to work with, and modern human's hadn't either.

"Anthropological Notes: Humans are excellent at creating and using tools, as are most other species. However, humans are slow to abandon old types of tools, some using the same methods prevalent centuries ago in order to complete a task simply because they have the old tools to hand. Humans are also adept at improvising tools, able to use one item for many different functions depending on their needs.

In relation to Incident 739, human crewmembers should not be allowed to bring items such as sticks or rocks on board without prior authorization, lest the engine be completely dismantled again."

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Seven - The prince

♡♡♡

Once again, you find yourself sitting in the pleasant blue drawing room that belongs to the Bridgerton's. It is a colour you could get quite used to.

Most of the family were present, so it was quite a nice gathering. Daphne had been the one to greet you when you arrived, but Benedict insisted you sit beside him once you came into the drawing room.

You smiled at Anthony as you passed him, and he gave you a gentle smile in return, bowing his head. This did not go unnoticed by the second son, who gave you a questioning look that you offered no response to.

"Daphne, have you thought about who you would like to dance with at tonight's ball?" Violet asks her daughter.

"I have some ideas. Lord Weaver is a fine dancer." Daphne says.

"Lord Hardy was asking about you at White's last night." Anthony tells his sister.

Daphne comes to sit beside you.

"Lord Hardy? What about the duke?" Her mother asks.

"The duke has not proposed, Mama. I am still considering my best course." Daphne says.

Gregory steals from Anthony's plate behind you, sending the eldest brother into a frantic motion. His sneaky little brother.

"Wise girl," Anthony says, once he is over his brother's thieving ways.

"And Lord Hardy is a fine option. Although, he is rather boastful."

"My dear, why ever do you complicate matter so?" Violet asks. "You must simply marry the man who feels like your dearest friend."

"Oh? Is that it, Mama? Well, how very simple indeed!" Daphne sighs.

"Yes, quite."

Benedict, who has been slouching slowly inch by inch on the sofa since you sat down, looks up at you with a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes and nudge his knee.

Daphne, deciding to shift the conversation from herself, turns to you. "You did quite well yourself at the last ball."

You smile and glance back at Anthony who smiled at you in return. "I had help."

"Hm?" Benedict sits up and looks at you. "What does she mean?"

You turn to him with a proud smile. "Well, my usual dance partner wasn't present last night, so Anthony stepped in. Dancing with your brother garnered a little attention, and I had several dances with different gentlemen that night."

Benedict turns to look at his brother so quickly that he could have gotten whiplash. Anthony smiles smugly at him.

Violet leans forward with some interest. "Oh? Do tell me more."

Talking about Daphne any more seemed like a dead-end, so Violet decided to move on to you.

"Your eldest offered to dance with me. He's quite the skilled dancer. Afterwards, I was approached by several others. I honestly think Daphne may be my good luck charm. Her magic is rubbing off onto me."

Daphne smiles at you, pleased that thongs are turning around for you.

Benedict glares softly at his brother. "She's my dance partner."

"You weren't there." Anthony argues.

"Still..."

"It matters not. I think I may be not he without a partner for the rest of the season. Even if none wish to call upon me, I shall dance at every ball."

Benedict isn't sure he is comforted by your words, but at the same time, he can't fault you. Perhaps this will be your way into the marriage market, after all.

♡♡♡

Benedict made it a point to attend this ball. The idea of Anthony stepping in for his role as your dance partner didn't quite sit with him.

While Daphne is off dancing in the next room, you hang back in the connected room with the other Bridgertons.

"Give me your dance card." Benedict says.

"Hm?"

He reaches for it without speaking and signs it. You chuckle.

"I'm just making sure," he says.

"Yes. Of course."

"Did you hear?" Colin asks, rejoining you both after fetching a drink.

"Hear what?" You ask, turning to him.

"There is a prince attending tonight." He sips his drink.

"Ah yes." You recall hearing that. "I'm sure everyone knows."

"Does Mama know?" Benedict asks him.

"I'm not quite sure." Colin muses.

You look at Benedict. "Why do you ask?"

"No particular reason. I just wondered. After all, if he's eligible, and the Duke has yet to still propose to Daphne..." He drifts off.

Colin looks at his brother. "You can't be serious?"

Benedict shrugs.

Chatter grows near the entrance, and you look up in time to see the Queen enter with a younger man by her side. There is no doubt in your mind that he is the prince that was expected to arrive. He is dressed like one.

"That shall be him now," you say, watching walk into the ballroom.

"Princess Daphne, eh?" Colin grins.

Benedict smacks him lightly. Colin glares at his brother. You rolls your eyes and walk away.

"You owe me a dance!" Benedict calls out.

You laugh as you head into the ballroom, wanting to see what is happening. The Queen introduces the prince to Daphne and you watch curiously.

After a few moments, Daphne lets out the most unladylike laugh you have ever heard. You chuckle quietly to yourself.

As the music begins to play again, Benedict comes up beside you. "Done swooning?"

"I was hardly swooning."

Benedict holds out his hand and gives you a look. You chuckle and place your hand in his.

"My name is on your card."

"I know."

You both join the others and dance around the room. Benedict and you smile at each other, enjoying each others company. Dancing with him has become a rather nice moment for you, but you haven't forgotten your initial attempt to find a suitor.

When your dance with Benedict comes to an end, another gentleman approaches you, and another after that.

Benedict finds that your dance with Anthony last time has really improved your chances. He thinks nothing of it as he rejoins Colin in the other room.

The evening passes, and you find that you had enjoyed every moment of it.

♡♡♡

Prince Friedrich of Prussia had garnered a lot of attention. The ladies flcoked to him in the masses. While he was trapped outside with the ladies and their Mama's, you were inside looking at the art.

The Bridgertons. Were here, too.

The gallery was phenomenal. Artwork covered every inch of every wall. There was so much to admire and take in.

You were currently with your mother as you took in some of the artwork. Your eyes are taking their time to trail over the details of paintings. You didn't know much about art, but you could certainly admire it.

Violet Bridgerton had her arm hooked with her eldest son. She scanned the room and pointed out some of the lovely ladies present. Anthony sighed and looked at his mother.

"Were I looking for a list of debutantes and their dubious accomplishments, I could have stayed home and read Lady Whistledown." Anthony frees himself from his mother and wanders off.

Violet turns to take Benedict's arm, but he catches on quick and wriggles out of her grasp, also fleeing.

Poor Colin is left behind to take the fall.

Benedict finds himself looking up at a painting in deep thought. Lady Danbury joins him along with another gentleman.

"It's much too cold," Benedict says, looking at Danbury. "Where's any sense of the subject's spirit? And the light! Given the quality, I do wonder why the piece was not skyed with the other daubs."

"Perhaps we should ask the artist," Lady Danbury says.

"That would be something, Lady Danbury." Benedict nods at her.

"Mm... Mr. Granville, why was your piece not skyed?" She turns to the gentleman beside her and Benedict wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

"Mr. Granville, I--"

"If you will excuse me, um, I must find my wife." Granville leaves.

Benedict is left starting in utter shock. "You diabolical... How could your leylt me rattle on like that?"

"How could I not, my dear Mr. Bridgerton? It was riotously funny, you must admit."

Lady Danbury walks away.

Benedict looks back at the painting and sighs.

"Penny, for your thoughts." You say, coming to stand beside him. Benedict looks at you and then back at where Lady Danbury had gone.

"I was humiliated just now."

You look around but don't see who he is looking for. "Surely not."

Benedict looks back at the painting. "What do you think?"

You look up at it and give it a good look. "I... can't say I know much about art. Do you?"

Benedict smiles a little. "You could say that. I have a passion for it."

You turn and look at him. "You're an artist too?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. Not yet." He looks almost sheepish.

You smile as you look at him. "Is there any possibility of me seeing your work?" You ask.

Benedict isn't sure why his heart races at the thought of you seeing something so important to him. His personal hobby.

"You wish to see my work?"

"If you'll allow."

Benedict stares at you for a moment and then tears his gaze away, realising he was perhaps looking for far too long.

"Perhaps one day."

You hear the far away tone of his voice as he looks up at the painting on the wall. You wonder what he's thinking.

Perhaps he hopes he can paint something for all to see one day. Maybe then he will let you see his passion.

The crowd behind you gasped, and you both turned to see Cressida on the ground with Prince Friedrich comforting her.

"Ah, the art of swooning." You chuckle.

Benedict chuckles, too.

You turn your gaze away from the crowd and back to the painting on the wall. Your eyes trailing along it. This piece doesn't make you feel much of anything, if you were honest.

Yet, somehow, you believe Benedict's painting would certainly have a way to move you. Whether you understood art or not.

♡♡♡

Benedict sits in an empty room of the house, all by himself sketching away in his book. He has already torn out and tossed a couple of pages in frustration.

There is a lingering thought in the back of his head. The thought of showing you his work. You asked him so innocently too.

If Benedict is to create anything worthy of being admired by you, it would have to be perfect.

He wasn't entirely why your wish to see his work mattered so much. Perhaps it was because you became friends. Perhaps it because he felt you would understand.

Your kind-hearted nature and sense of humour were perfectly admirable traits, but it was your wish to know him on a deeper level that had Benedict desiring your company.

You were one of the only people to really see him. It felt good.

The second son swore to himself that he would draw something worthy of your gaze. Nothing less.

It was just going to take him a while to create such a piece.

If only Daphne would play a different tune kn her piano. The constant repetitive notes he can hear from the drawing room were driving him insane.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff -

[midnightwriter21]

can we have the first meet soulmate thing for sorcerer! reader please?? w gojo only

jjk hcs: satoru meeting sorcerer!soulmate!reader

characters: satoru gojo x reader, megumi (mentioned), yuji (mentioned), nobara (mentioned)

warnings: u kill a cursed spirit, possible injury but not rly, mature language (reader cusses gojo out lmfao), the kids & reader lowkey bullying gojo lol, gojo is kinda suggestive at the end

AN: soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body!! read the non-sorcerer version HERE

SATORU GOJO

being called in as back up for a mission involving a 2nd grade cursed spirit was not on ur to-do list today

but guess where you are!!

an empty mall!!

an empty mall where you’re currently watching 3 teenagers run around like headless chickens

the curse is ugly… as most of them are but..

this one is NASTY looking

several different colored eyeballs sticking out of various places on its body

it’s oozing some sort of greenish brown liquid

and the smell

dear lord it’s bad

the poor pink haired kid is simultaneously holding his nose and trying to fight the curse with one hand

and it’s main attack seems to be the ability to spit that greenish brown liquid at whoever it’s attacking, rendering them immobile

almost like a glue trap for mice

the curse backs the three kids into a corner and prepares to spit that sticky liquid at them

and that’s when you decide to make your entrance

jumping from the second floor of the mall, in front of the kids, and drawing your weapon

you block the attack and jump towards the curse

severing it’s head and therefore exorcising it in one quick movement

you sheathe your weapon and turn to the kids, “why the hell are you three taking on a 2nd grade mission?”

the pink haired boy from earlier explains, “our sensei was supposed to be with us but when we split up he went to the food court… and uhhh… we haven’t seen him since.”

you give the kids a sour look, “your sensei must be a complete moron”

all at once the kids agree

“he is” -the girl with the hammer

“yeah, pretty much” -the boy with the black spikey hair

“i mean.. kinda, sometimes” -the pink haired boy

you sit the kids down on a bench so that you can check over them and access any possible wounds

mama bear mode activated.

you ask the boy, who you now know as megumi, to get in touch with his sensei

when his sensei answers the phone, megumi explains that the curse has been exorcised

but before he can explain about your presence, you snatch the phone from him and let out a string of expletives directed towards the man on the other end

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

before you can continue you hear the dial tone

he hung up on you

without even saying a word

nearly growling in anger you shove the phone back to megumi and move over to yuji

you take his hands in yours and begin to wrap his hands in bandages saying, “you know, if you keep punching through walls you’re going to end up really hurting your knuckles”

as you wrap his hands you’re not really paying attention to your surroundings, so the smug voice coming from behind spooks you a little…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

he’s throwing your own words back in your face

whipping your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash, you prepare to launch into another ass chewing

but your words get stuck in your throat when you’re met with a tall, blindfolded, white haired man

a man known to everyone in the jujutsu world

Satoru Gojo

in response to your stunned silence he lets out a chuckle, “what? cat got your tongue, pretty?”

his mocking snaps you back into reality as you fire back, “no, i’m just surprised on how someone like you can be such a complete and utter dumbass!”

“awww cmon is that the way you’re supposed to talk to your soulmate?” he smirks down at you

you give him a confused look before it hits you

his first words to you from earlier…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

those exact words are printed on your back underneath your shoulder blade in neat handwriting

looking up at him with wide eyes, you watch as he turns his back to you, pulling off his uniform jackets and lifting up his shirt

ignoring the faint gagging sounds from his students

and there it is, printed in the exact same spot as yours, in your handwriting

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

“no. fucking. way.” you say in disbelief as he turns back to face you

“you have a dirty mouth, sweetheart,” he leans in and whispers softly in your ear, “can’t wait to see just how dirty it can get,” he leans back and says in his normal voice, “but we’ll save that for later!”

[twis-world]

The Remedy That Is You (Riddle Version)

Mentions: Fluff, Riddle-Centric, Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader

No matter how many a time the students of Nightraven College witnessed how their Housewarden did a complete 180 in your presence, it never ceased to amaze them.

It eventually got to the point where a majority of students began to question if you really were magickless. There was just no way your mere presence could bring out such light in their eyes, face softening and a smile so tender it was as if they were gazing upon one of the Seven.

Just how did you do it?

Riddle

“You imbecile!” Riddle’s voice boomed, echoing all throughout Heartslabyul. Fear set into all who heard it, a chain reaction flowing through their bodies as their hearts beat quicker, palms growing clammy in a cold sweat. No matter how many times their beloved Housewarden proved that he had changed, that he was no longer the cruel tyrant they all once feared, it did not stop the utter terror that ran through them when they did succeed in trying his patience.

Especially when it concerned the prized animals they cared for.

“Have I not made it clear several times that you are not to directly hit the hedgehogs?” Riddle continued to scream, face flaming red as he cradled the delicate creature in his arms. Whether or not the poor thing was shaking of its own account or fear of the one holding it was to be determined, but it mattered not with all eyes on the beholder. “Are you so dense that you cannot remember something as simple as that?”

“Housewarden Riddle,” the victim stuttered. It was a first-year clearly, face deathly pale and looking as if his soul would leave his body any moment in a fit of desperation. Anything to get away from such a ghastly scenario. “I-I…I swear it was a-a-an accident-”

“How do you accidentally do such a thing?” Riddle snapped back, nearly frothing at the mouth as he marched forward into the other’s space. The surrounding students gasped, taking a step back in turn and preparing for the inevitable as his hand noticeably itched for his pen. The first-year clearly noticed as well, eyes bulging and feet shifting in preparation to run if need be. “Even so, there is no room for such impertinence. Why, I should have your head for that!”

“Riddle?”

The effect was almost instant.

The speed at which the male stepped back was almost inhuman, head snapping back so quickly a few flinched at the thought of such inevitable whiplash. The snarl on his lips dropped, not taking on a smile but smoothing out the lines his earlier scowl created. In fact, the only evidence of his incredible fury from but a moment ago was the ever present brightness of his face, taking its time in ever so slowly draining away.

Then, they saw it.

The moment you managed to break through the crowd, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly agape as you surveyed the situation, the sharpness in his gaze disappeared. It was almost comical how instantly his pupils blew, nearly overtaking the storm in his eyes. Some swore that if it were possible hearts would most definitely be shining from his orbs, beating in tune with the one confined by his mortal body yet still promised to you.

Great Seven, the way he greeted you as well. It nearly ached how tenderly a soft ‘My Rose’ escaped from his lips, and it was then they all knew that in his mind the rest of the world faded away until all that lay within it was you.

“Ace nearly gave me a heart attack when he blew up my phone, spewing nonsense of a bomb about to blow the whole of the dorm,” you gently teased, stepping towards him with such ease despite the still shaking of Riddle’s body. Yet, as you placed a delicate hand on his arm, the tremors all but disappeared. “Guess he wasn’t that far off for once.”

The red fury on his face was now one of shame and embarrassment, tucking his head down and staring as he gently calmed the still shaking hedgehog. “He exaggerates…” he nearly mumbled, refusing to look up at the gentle smile you were giving him. 

You stared at him with the same fondness he just had moments ago, thumb softly rubbing against his arm. Words could not explain the relief they all felt when you looked up at them all and nodded your head back to the main dorm building, silently giving them permission to finally escape.

At the sound of their retreat Riddle’s head shot up, confusion evident. “Who gave you all permission to leave?” he called out, stepping out of your grasp and staring at their retreating backs. If his hands weren’t occupied you were sure he would be waving them in a blind fury. “Come back! You have yet to-”

“Riddle,” you interrupted, cupping his face in your hands and turning his gaze to you instead. It was a miracle that he had yet to pass out, blood still continuously rushing to his face as he had no choice but to lock eyes with you. Fingertips caressed under his eyes, exaggerated breathing from you goading him to follow with, not once turning away. Not daring to escape the land you’ve trapped him in.

He didn’t know how much time passed, just the two of you standing there and the animal in his arms long since passed out, nor did he care. Just your touch alone was enough to soothe his soul, your gaze and sweet words were simply a bonus that he thought himself unworthy of, yet here he was.

“There we go,” you cooed, dropping your hands but not once breaking contact from his face. Down his cheeks that you held for a moment, nails barely scraping down his neck in tune with the pleasant shiver it sent down his spine, dancing across his shoulders and tickling his waist before coming to a stop there. “Why don’t we sit and enjoy some tea to help calm you down more, hm?”

“It’s not yet past the lunch hour,” he responded, yet almost drunkenly. “Rule 148 states-” The small burst of laughter that left you was enough to shut him up, watching as your head tilted back and shined even brighter than the sun that warmed you both. He decided that he really didn’t want you to stop anytime soon. “Though…though I suppose I could make an exception…”

A few more chuckles rang, and you gave him another playful smile along with a gentle squeeze. “How kind.”

Yes, yes you really were quite magical.

[muntitled]

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬

Pairings: Fratboy!Sungchan x Shy!reader

Warnings: Language, Enemies to Lovers, Manipulation, Bully!Sungchan, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), Hate sex, Non/Con, Choking, Fingering, Size Kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Breeding, Choking, Spitting, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Coercion

I needed bully smut, so I wrote bully smut. Also I'm ovulating so don't mind me.

To say you were tense was a grave understatement.

You were forced to sit through your lecture feeling absolutely haunted by the presence beside you. A class you would normally find yourself enjoying is suddenly marred by the stretch of shadow that is Sungchan.

Making comprehensive notes had proven to be difficult when you had to keep a peripheral gaze on the slouching figure seated on the shared desk beside you.

Everything about him vexed you absolutely: The stupid way he wore his snapback (reversed). How he slouched beside you, nearly dozing off on multiple occasions.

Most harrowing was the fact that Sungchan did not make any notes during the entire course of the lesson. In fact, his notebook remained closed. His laptop, untouched.

“Damn,” Sungchan croaks when the professor concludes the end of his incessant rant, “We done?” He asks, “already?”

You only hum in affirmation, keeping your head low as you gather your belongings.

Sungchan watches you scramble to pack up - scramble to get away from him - with unreadable expression.

“Hey, I need to ask you something.”

Your heart plummets when his hand makes contact with the notepad you were shoving into your backpack. You bite the inside of your cheek while your stomach plummets lower and lower.

“Actually, Sungchan… I kinda have somewhere to b-”

“Nah, you're good. It'll only take a few minutes,” he says, lightly tugging on the sleeve of your button-up to lower your butt back down to the chair. You watch with sullen eyes as the rest of your fellow students file out of the classroom.

Two of Sungchan's frat brothers eye you both suspiciously, but Sungchan only gives them a flick of the head in greeting as he leans in to whisper, “You know I don't bite, right?

You didn't care to calculate the validity of that statement because you knew everything this boy had to say was completely and wholeheartedly false. It was almost a marvel, the way he could aimlessly switch from terrorising you one moment to bathing you in unprovoked friendliness the next. It gave you a terrible case of whiplash. Before you're able to respond, however, your professor speaks up from the front of the class. The only other body in the room.

"I hope you plan on actually doing something about those grades this semester, Mr Jung.” Your professor says, eyeing you both through the windows of horn rimmed glasses, “I trust you understand the severity of your current predicament."

Sungchan leans back against his seat, regarding the teacher with a passiveness that made you sweat with nerves.

"Being suspended from basketball definitely sucked," Sungchan's jaw is tight when he speaks, so obviously vexed by the inquiries of your lecturer. "But I've got a secret weapon this semester, Prof," the boy says, slamming his basketball on the conjoined tables, enough to make you jump. "I'll be back on the court in no time."

The sound of your name slipping from your professor's mouth was enough to have you snapping your head up from the weathered pages of the book you had taken out a mere second ago. Sungchan watches, slyly enamoured by the way you sit up when addressing the teacher. The way you correct your spine and elongate your neck. Closing your book with a finger propped in between the pages so as not to lose your space while simultaneously lending the professor your optimal focus.

You were such a fucking prude.

"S-Sorry Sir?" You couldn't have heard him right.

There was absolutely no way.

"I assume you're the student Mr Jung is referring to?" Your professor seems oblivious to the way your face threatens to fall, but Sungchan catches it in the slight twitch of your left brow.

"Oh- I-" everything in you was screaming to send out an SOS signal. Your neck still hurt with the imprint of his palm from when he had terrorized you just a few hours ago... Willingly choosing to be put in a space with Jung Sungchan alone seemed like a viable death wish.

"She already agreed to help tutor me yesterday, actually?" Your heart plummets when the boy turns to face you. "Very admiral."

A wave of nausea washes over you and you try your damndest to just not fucking cry as he places a tentative hand on your thigh underneath the table. Everything in your being responseded negatively to this man. Everything perhaps except your eyes.

While you could not deny that he was the spawn of Satan, you couldn't deny that he had the biggest, most brightest, most kindest eyes you've ever seen.

And that was the fucked up part.

"You said it yourself," Sungchan shoots back at the professor as his nails sink into the sensitive, plush skin of your thighs, "She's the best of the best so I figured, only the best can get me back on that court,"

You wanted to cry. To break out into a blaze of uncontrollable hysteria. Anything at all that might convince your professor to get Jung Sungchan away from you. The tempest of emotions swirling inside, the humiliation, the vile, disgusting feelings that only make themselves known in the vulnerabilities of the AM's...

It all threatens to boil over like an abandoned pot left on an open stove.

Perhaps Sungchan notices the quiver in your lips.

"I trust you'll get started as soon as possible then?"

"We're getting started right now, actually," Sungchan says, peeling his eyes away from your bowed frame, just in time to catch your professor gathering his belongings by the desk, "Basketball season is just around the corner, so you know how it is,"

All his fingers are digging into you thigh now. You have to resort to biting down on the inside of your cheeks to avoid letting that torrid screech rip its way through your vocal cords.

"I'm very impressed by your work ethic, Mr Jung," your professor says, completely oblivious to the way your eyes widen at the sight of him filing his way out the classroom, "And a very special thank you to you, Miss L/N. This is incredibly admirable and something I most definitely will not forget,"

For the briefest moments, the sun peaks through the murky, heavy clouds and you're awash in not only the approval of your professor, but by the possibility that you were perhaps one step closer to making TA. It would undoubtedly look wonderful on your resume, and having a member of staff essentially vouch for you would be... fucking miraculous.

"Wipe the drool off your face, it's not very sexy," Sungchan's grumbles have you hurtling out of your daydreams and straight back down to earth where you're left abandoned in a lecture hall with the only person in the entire world you believed deserved death.

Sungchan's head is leaning back passively against the chair, his legs are spread and his hand has yet to leave your thigh.

You try to keep your voice remaining steady as you ask "How much work do you plan on putting in?" Your voice is dripping monotony and is ice cold, nothing at all like the lazy smile flitting across Sungchan's face as he watches you, still slouching like he couldn't give less of a shit.

"None." His words have you snapping your head towards him, eyes blazing with the signs of your very first tear growing pregnant in your tear ducts.

"Th-Thats impossible- you can't do that!"

"I can't do any of this shit," Sungchan snorts as he motions with his other hand towards the blackboard scribbled with details on Austomarixsm, your most recent study, and most daunting assignment.

"Sungchan I-" You exhale, completely and utterly dumbfounded, "Sungchan, I have my own work to do. I have school, a-and a part time job- I have my own assignments due- just the other day I fucking passed out from a stress migraine-"

The calluses of his palms rubbing against the inside of your thigh, momentarily bring you out of the reverie of your own self pity, “I'm sorry that happened to you, Angel,” he begins, in the most sickeningly sweet voice you've ever heard anyone utter to you, let alone a man you found so incredibly... attractive.

You're not immune to Sungchan's charms and that was perhaps, part of the problem. You feared that if it ever came down to it, you might fall on a fucking sword for him, “Just make sure you get my assignment done on time, yeah?”

Your eyes are focused on his hand. The size of it. The labyrinth of veins running the expanse of it. The way it's rubbing against your inner thigh with a dizzying mysticism.

All it takes is for the first tear to fall directly on his palm before you're lifting your head and murmering, “No.”

Sungchan's hand stops all movement on your thigh and for the first (but certainly not last) part of this evening, you're utterly, and completely filled with fear.

“Sorry?” he shakes his head, displaying that sunshine smile, “What did you say? I don't think I heard you right.”

“You heard me perfectly well,” you tip your head back in defiance, letting your nose raise higher than it's used to being. Finding that glimmer of confidence that lay wasting, like an old relic somehwere inside of you.

“I said n-”

His hand was encircled around your throat before you could even get the final word out and he is pushing your face down on the table with immense force. A dark shadow settles across him, only intensifying his glare.

You writhe underneath him but Sungchan's grip on the side of your face only doubles in force as he slowly rises from his chair, towering over your bent frame as he twitches his head a little to side.

“Come again?”

You're struggling to breath under the pressure of having your cheek pressed so completely against a flat surface and your limbs are shot with panic.

He's far bigger than you though, your movements mean absolutely nothing. “I couldn't hear you the first time, Angel, what did you say?” His shadow bleeds across your form, like an immense, horrible darkness and so you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that whatever this is, whatever that was about to be inflicted on you would disappear.

“I know I didn't just hear you say no to me, baby,” your limbs stop their idle protests when Sungchan's hand slithers up your skirt, “You're too good an angel to ever say no to me, right?” Your mouth is trembling as his words wash over the side of your face, “You're too fucking pathetic to say no to anyone.”

“Sungchan- please-”

“Please?” He asks, swiping his fingers past your underwear, “Please stop or Please carry on?” Your mind is completely overrun with both panic and a second, more sinister second feeling that you truly did not want to confront in a moment like this. All you wanted to focus on was escaping the iron grip, keeping your cheeks pushed against the desk, where a small puddle of drool had accumulated from your open mouth.

You writhe underneath him, valiantly trying to get his fingers away from you, but your movements only cause the first bit delecrable of friction against your cunt.

“That's it,” He whispers, “That's a good little slut,” Sungchan watches as you continue to push your cunt back against his fingers, subsequently raking the first moan out of your clogged throat.

“Look at you…” He marvels at the sight of you. How easily you've gotten wet for him despite being completely and wholeheartedly defiant just a moment before. Sungcham doesn't know whether to look at your pussy desperately trying to pleasure itself with his fingers, or your face, and those pretty half lidded eyes rolling to back of your head.

“You can't so no to anything, can you?” He finally pushes two digits in, immediately causing you to gasp underneath him, “You'll let anyone fuck this pussy raw, hm? Even me?” His words are enough to have you writing even more underneath him.

“F-Fuck you-” Sungchan buries his fingers inside of you, all too pleased to watch you attempt to stave off the pleasure coursing through your body. His cock is fucking aching at the sight and it only has him fingering you harder and faster.

“You're gonna cum on my fingers, yeah? You're gonna cum like the sick fucking slut you are?” Your body is racked with unbearable spasms as you're forced into your first orgasm. The room goes white and all you're consumed by is the feeling of Sungchan's massive fingers inside of you and your head still pressed to the side of the table. You're fucking back against his fingers and he watches, completely enamored with his mouth hanging limply open. He is utterly taken with the sight.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” the room spins and it takes a few seconds to notice you're not pressed against the desk anymore.

Now you're being pulled up and pushed with your ass against the desk while Sungchan towers over you, hurriedly fiddling with his belt as he glares down at you with monotonous lust. He doesn't smile. He doesn't crack any incessant jokes, he only grabs you by your neck and forces his hand in your mouth.

“Spit,” you do more than that. You gag around his fingers, until Sungchan is finally satisfied with the string of saliva when he slips his hand out.

“Watch,” his forces you to bow your head and watch him coat his aching red cock with your spit. He jerks himself off right in front of you, loving the way your eyes stay glued on his dick.

“You're such a dirty fucking slut, you know that?” He is saying it to himself at this point. Words drenched in arousal and uttered through clenched teeth, “You’re such a pretty fucking slut, aren't you, Princess?”

You can't stop your eyes from watching how he fucks himself, you can't bare to look away.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” Your voice is hoarse and shaking,

“Are you asking me to fuck you?”

All it takes is one nod before he's pushing you backwards against the small table and forcing himself between your open legs. “Then I'll give you what you want,” he whispers before pushing himself inside of you, completely knocking the wind out of your lungs.

He's too big. Far too big, and you try to tell him this by pawing lamely at the lapels of his letterman.

“F-Fuck, this pussy is so fucking tight!” Sungchan rolls his head back and you stare up at him as if he were a God as he drags your hips towards his, fucking you completely dumb on his cock.

“Is this what you wanted, Angel? You wanted my dick inside you like a needy fucking slut.”

“Sungchan I'm c-cumming, FUCK-” Your orgasm quite literally sneaks up on you and it has you throwing your head back while Sungchan continues to fuck himself into you. He watches you writhe and scream and he feels you clench his dick impossibly tighter.

“F-Fuck you're gonna me me cum,” he whispers, causing the very familiar feeling of alarm to pour out of you. You struggle against him but Sungchan keeps his palm lpcked around your neck, keeping your body very much against his.

"S-Sungchan, please."

"Stop moving or im really gonna cum," you try to push him away but your movements only succeed in raking a broken moan out him.

"You can't cum inside! Fucking- Stop,"

Sungchan is completely caught in the throes of his own prgasm. You're not sure if he hears you at all through all his mumbling and moaning.

“Fuck, angel, you're gonna make me-” Sungchan's thrust grow incredibly sloppy and you nearly start crying until he guides himself out of you, spilling his seed all over your drenched cunt. "F-Fuck, I pulled put, see?" He's breathing heavily as he continues to milk out tye rest of his cum and your lips are quivering, "I pulled out, Angel, don't worry."

The palm across the side of your face is warm, almost disarming, "You'll help me out, right? You'll help me get back on the court." Your lips have yet to stop their horrible quivering, "I need your help, Angel. You know I do,"

<3

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

[doromoni]

Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 1. Part 2 : When all had fallen

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warnings : Morally Grey Characters

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 go off track and only one will reign victorious.

< Previous Next >

You remember 2015 as if it was tattooed to your brain. This was the year when cracks had started to appear in the Mercedes motorhome.

From an outsider’s perspective, it was all victories and celebrations — through what appears to be years of dominance ahead. However, destruction and chaos loomed between the walls of the 2 garages. The dispute between the drivers is growing gnarly and what was supposed to be kept on track was seeping into the personal lives of the people involved.

Lewis and Nico were ready to slit each other’s throats when given the permission and command. Moreover, the management did not give a damn about the rapidly growing hostility, for as long as one of them won . No, Mercedes didn’t care. And you saw how it affected not only the drivers , but the entire pit.

A person cannot forget a lifetime’s worth of friendship that easily. You saw it with your own two eyes , how the loss of friendship killed a part of Lewis and all you could do was sit there and pull him close into your embrace.

Paranoia had started to claw its way into Lewis’ mind; wondering if his teammate and Mercedes were teaming up against him.

You could do nothing to help, because you were going through the same exact thing. Not as Lewis’ partner, but as his race engineer. You cannot lie to yourself, and most importantly you cannot lie to Lewis and say that no dirty cards were drawn — because you know for a fact that several team calls were given without your knowledge or permission that had led to losses and misjudgments. You cannot deny foul play … not when Monaco 2015 happened.

“Lewis, you have a 21-second gap on Rosberg. Tires are good, keep that pace” You radioed towards Lewis as you monitored the data on the car.

“Copy, what lap are we? “ Lewis radioed back

“Lap 64, Lap 64 of 78. Keep your head down, A race win is projected, I repeat, a race win is a project— RED FLAG, RED FLAG! ” Just as you were talking, the signal for a red flag had lit and you and your team were informed of a crash.

Quickly gathering the information, you rallied it towards Lewis.

“Slow the car down, Red Flag, Red Flag. A safety car is deployed. Lewis , lay low and keep those tyres warm” You mentally cursed as what appeared to be a 21-second advantage for Lewis was no longer there.

“What happened?” Lewis questioned

“Verstappen and Grosjean touched on turn 1. Verstappen is out. “ You echoed

“Fuck! My pace was good. Are they ok though? Who was at fault?”

“I will get back on that, the stewards are now discussing” you replied.

Your eyes were focused on the data that was on your screen when suddenly at the corner of your eye you saw an engineer discretely say something to Bonno.

A look of apprehension clouded his features. And he sent you a look of remorse as he pressed what seems to be your mic connection to Lewis’ car. Horror ate your entire being as you realized what was about to happen.

Before you could do anything else, Bonno had radioed to Lewis.

“BOX, BOX “

Your world froze entirely, as absolute terror gave you whiplash. Rage consumed you and you stood from your chair not caring for the mess you’re making as you made your way towards Bonno and gripping his polo forcefully towards your height.

“HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!” You screamed at Him, now the other engineers tried to hold you back — but not before you could land a solid punch at him. Fuck HR, they could fire you for all you care.

You once again tried to claw at him, when you heard the confused voice of Lewis in your abandoned earphones.

Elbowing your way out of their grip, you placed the headset back on your head and reconnected to Lewis.

“ Y/N? Why did they tell me to box? Where were you? “ Lewis’ voice held so much confusion and doubt that it broke your heart.

“Lew, I - “

“ Y/N you said my tires were good. Why was told to box? Why am I boxing? “ Lewis countered before you could even answer.

You knew that Lewis had just lost his win. And you felt like it was somehow your fault.

“Lew … I'm sorry”

And just like that, Nico Rosberg had won the Grand Prix. While you lost the trust in every person in your motorhome and you gained contempt back.

After that incident, you had developed severe mistrust and it has led to nightmares and unhealthy amounts of alcohol. And only Lewis could break your cycle.

It was truly you and Lewis against everything. Or that was what you thought. Because , you didn’t know that Lewis has been fed false information about what happened, where everything was pinned on you.

Without your knowledge, Lewis’ trust in you had also formed a crack and doubt had nested itself in his heart.

No matter how coarse and dreadful , life still ensues and you are forced to move on — and continue with your life. Lewis had won another world championship.

It cant be denied that the prestige and glamour that the title brought has broadened opportunities for Lewis . Yet ,no one can argue that this has also broadened the target behind Lewis’ back.

And it had shown during 2016, Nico Rosberg was adamant about winning and he had done everything in his power to achieve his goal.

And painstakingly, Nico had won the title. Then not long after he announced his retirement.

Nico Rosberg has left Mercedes … and what did this mean for Lewis? Admittedly you were relieved by Nico’s exit; this meant the tension in the motorhome had been dissipated. You were no longer worried that the 2 Merc drivers were going to kill each other on track.

This meant, that you and Lewis could finally figure out what was between the two of you. You two could finally grow and develop your relationship. A relationship that wasn’t surrounded by anxiety and work . You could finally re-approach the promise that Lewis swore to you a year before.

He promised that he would rectify the contracts so that we didn’t need to stay in the shadows.

However, time continues to pass, days become weeks weeks become months and months become years.

It was now 2020, Lewis was experiencing what the title of Formula 1 Champion brought. He won another championship. And Lewis was living the life! And you had your moments too. You could proudly say that you are now a well sought after race engineer — with Race teams serving job offers left and right. But you have always declined , even if you so badly wanted to leave Mercedes… because you stayed where Lewis was.

4 years had passed, but you were still at the very beginning. You still waited for Lewis to make do his promise.

But as you gazed at him looking so alive and carefree as girls littered at his side while the music blasted in the bar.

The music was deafening,yet all you could hear was the pounding of your heart, as you felt the vile rush up to your mouth at the sight of your boyfriend holding another woman. And you could do nothing because to the world you were just his race engineer. Even after everything you sacrificed, you still cannot claim and shout to the world that Lewis Hamilton was yours.

Tears had started to drop from your eyes. As you felt the warm liquid run down your face , you felt a soft material in your hand. Looking down it was a handkerchief.

“ Pretty race engineers shouldn’t cry” A cold voice caught your attention, as you looked up to Blue cerulean eyes.

“Hi, We haven’t formally met. I’m Max” A smile graced his features, softening his usually cold appearance

“I don’t think we have. Well then, Hi Max! My name is Y/N. It is so nice to meet you”

Taglist : @vicurious28 @xoscar03 @barnestatic @stelena-klayley @sopheeg @imagandom @4-20-21-12 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @itslagumi

Anyone interested to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or DM me!

[sleepyhutcherson]

whiplash smile

where billy surprises you with a clean house, flowers, and a… meal.

pairing: billy (burn, 2019) x gn!reader

word count: 1.6k

contains: (request) smoking, established relationship, fluff, reader is having a rough week, billy tries to cook…

a/n: first time writing for billy <3 thank you for the request anon!! >ᴗ< ive been so obsessed with billy aaa. title inspired by billy idol’s album idk i feel like billy would listen to him lol.

You were having a tough week due to some family issues, Billy picked up the way your mood dropped and decided to do something nice for you while you were away for a few hours.

After dealing with your family for nearly three whole hours you return home completely exhausted, wanting nothing more but to be in your boyfriend's presence. You barely stick the key into the door when the door swings open, the man you so desperately craved standing on the other side.

“Hey, beautiful,” Billy greets with a grin, cigarette between his lips moving up and down at his muffled words. He opens the door enough for you to slip inside your shared home.

The house is clean which is a bit of a surprise. Before you left there was a mess: clothing pieces scattered in different areas of the house, several beer bottles and caps on the table along with other things. You weren’t usually untidy, you liked to keep the house well maintained but your issues with your family just brought you to a low.

“You cleaned the house?” You ask, taking off your coat and hanging it on the rack, slipping off your shoes next and setting them besides Billy’s boots. You were a little surprised honestly, Billy wasn’t the best at picking up, but you were impressed with his word and grateful for his effort.

“Yeah.” Billy replies, with a cocky look on his face. You can hear a familiar tune play softly in the background, you recognise it as one of Billy’s favourite songs. “What? No ‘thank you’? ‘You’re the best boyfriend ever’?” He asks, bringing your attention back to him.

You realise you haven’t said thank you now that he’s mentioned it. You move towards your boyfriend, who immediately puts his cigarette out knowing your next move, and cup his face, his hands moving to your hips to keep you close. “Thank you, you’re the best boyfriend ever.” You say through a smile, mocking his words.

Billy rolls his eyes playfully, pulling you closer to him. “Oh, is that how it is then?” He asks, cocking a brow, his hands travelling up to your waist. He loves to have your hands on his face, it’s oddly comforting to him. He leans down to kiss you, pressing his body up against yours. Your lips are familiar with each other, the kiss almost some kind of reflex.

For the first time ever he pulls away first. “I missed you,” he says, your noses brushing up. “Bad day?” He asks, his thumb stroking your sides where his hands still remain.

“Yeah,” you sigh, but you really don’t want to talk about it; you don’t even want to think about it either, right now you just need him. “But I don’t want to talk about it, is that okay?”

“Of course.” He kisses your lips again, a small pure kiss, your lips brushing against each other softly for a second. “Hey, stay here, I have something for you.” He makes his way towards the kitchen with a pace that tells you he’s clearly excited to show you whatever he has for you.

When he returns he has a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers in his hands, the colours bright, your eyes softening at the sight of Billy carrying them towards you. He was a complete softy on the inside despite how much he denied it.

“Oh, they’re beautiful!” You gush, taking them once he hands them to you, a soft smile plastered on his face, happy about your reaction. How was this the same man that blew up that gas station?

“Aren’t they? They reminded me of you.” You meet his pretty eyes, he never fails to win your heart, he always knows how to make you feel better.

You set the flowers aside and embrace the man in front of you. He was truly the best boyfriend—you weren’t mocking his words anymore. “Thank you,” you say, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, his stubble tickling you just a bit. You give him a peck on his neck before pulling away.

“Oh, that’s not it, sweetheart. I made you dinner.” He grins and your brows furrow—-Billy knew how to cook?!

Billy had never tried to cook before but he knew how to use the stove so he thought why not? How hard could it really be? He burnt himself several times but hey, the food he prepared was not burnt! That was surely a plus. Who knew if it was good, he didn’t taste it he hoped for your opinion first.

“You made dinner?” You question as Billy leads you to the kitchen where you see a pot on the stove that is definitely too small for the amount of spaghetti he made, the noodles and sauce overflowing, the pot and stove stained with the red sauce.

“I made spaghetti,” he says, his eyes searching for your reaction. “It’s not anything fancy… but I just wanted to make you something…” he mumbles coyly, feeling suddenly very needy for your approval. Actually, he always craved your approval and he partially hated that because he had never needed praise from anyone before but now he needs it from you at all times.

You smile enthusiastically. Sure the kitchen was a bit of a mess now but he very obviously tried his absolute best. He did this for you and that was enough to make you happy. “No, don’t worry, it’s perfect, baby.” You assure, looking up at him, meeting his worrying eyes. “Thank you, Billy. You really didn’t have to.”

He smiles, his worry suddenly cleared up once he heard your words. “Well, you deserve it.”

You kiss his cheek with a gentle smile. Thank fuck for wannabe cowboys like Billy, right? “Let’s eat then?”

Billy tells you to sit at the dining table insisting to serve you. You agree knowing Billy really wanted to do this for you and sit down at your small dining table. He pokes his head out of the kitchen then. “Do you want Coke or Pepsi? I wasn’t sure which you preferred while I was at the grocery store so I just bought you both.”

You blush at that and you feel sort of silly for doing so but it warmed your heart that Billy could be so thoughtful. “Pepsi is fine,” you say through a flustered smile. He nods, a cheeky smile on his face taking notice of the pink that tints your cheeks, before returning back to the kitchen.

He joins you at the table with two plates of spaghetti, a glass of Pepsi with ice and a bottle of beer for him. You notice when he sets the plate down how stiff the noodles look, like they haven’t been cooked long enough, but of course you don’t say anything.

Billy watches you, eager for you to eat his food. He spent time making this meal for you and he really hoped you liked it. He watches you pick up a bit of noodles with your fork, you stare at it for a moment, you smile at him and shove the forkful of noodles into your mouth.

It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either but…it was the thought that counted, right? The noodles were a little hard, not cooked right, and you could tell Billy hadn’t put any seasoning in it but…it was his first time cooking and he seemed proud of his work.

Once you swallow his food, you smile effusively at him. “It’s delicious! You did really well for it being your first time.” Billy felt pretty good hearing your words but honestly he was a little surprised, had he managed to make something good without following a recipe?

He takes a bite himself expecting his food to be delicious, like you said and the moment the food hits his taste buds his face scrunches up in disgust and it’s honestly adorable. He looks at you, brows furrowed, his mouth stuffed, the corners stained with sauce. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction and he spits his food out onto his plate.

“That is not delicious,” he tries to put on an angry expression but the corners of his lips twitch up. Eventually, he breaks into a smile, your laughter and smile winning him over. “How the fuck did you swallow that?” He asks, laughing a little now himself.

“It’s not too bad!” You insist, your cheeks hurting now by how much you were laughing.

Billy reaches for his napkin, wiping his mouth before taking a sip of his beer wanting to get rid of the taste of his own food. “That was horrible,” he says, setting his bottle down. “You could’ve told me before I took a bite, you little liar.”

You smile softly, your hand reaching over for him across the table. Your hands brush, his hands callous but warm against yours. “But you seemed so proud of your work.”

Billy chuckles. “But it was horrible, baby.” He tugs at your hand a little and you stand up, and like that he pulls you over to sit on his lap, your meals now ignored. You look down at Billy, your hands on his jaw, his eyes sparkling as he stares up at you. “But thank you for not being mean.”

You stroke his cheek with your thumb, his hands on your waist again, holding onto you. “I’ll help you with dinner next time, okay?” You say, and he nods, a soft smile on his lips.

“Okay.” He mumbles with a dreamy look, mesmerised by the sight of you. He loved to have you like this, on his lap, your hands on his face. “You’re perfect.” He whispers, and you respond with a kiss, the best response he could ask for.