#Dear Mr. Postman

[leaderoffestivals]

Helios Rising Heroes: cat's whims

Gast: That said, if you’re recommending love stories or something… I guess I could read one—for, you know, educational purposes.  Ren: No, I won’t be able to recommend anything from a genre I don’t read. 

Story unlocked from the skill tree in Gast Adler’s 3* Hero Card, Dear Mr. Postman Characters: Gast Adler, Kisaragi Ren

Gast: Well then, now that our patrol’s done, how about we stop by the bookstore on the way back? 

Ren: Ugh. Comics again?

Gast: Nah. I’m thinking of picking up a novel today. 

Ren: You? That’s unexpected. 

Gast: Haha! Replying to fan letters the other day was such a pain, you know? I figured it wouldn’t hurt to brush up on my reading now and again. 

That’s why I’d appreciate it if you could tag along and recommend a novel that even I might be able to read.

Ren: … … Fine. I’ll join you. 

Gast: Huh? That’d be a really great help but… … Do you have something to do at the bookstore too, Ren?

Ren: … … Yeah. There’s a book I want. I’ll grab it while I’m there. 

Gast: Well, that works out perfectly. Let’s go ♪

______________________________________________________

 < At the bookstore… Bells at the door chime as they enter. >

Roy: Ah, Gast-san! Thanks for your hard work today!

Gast: Hey, Roy. On store duty today, huh? 

Roy: Yeah. My parents are out running errands, so I’m holding the fort for now. What can I help you with? Comics? Fashion mags? We’ve got them all. 

Gast: Actually, I’m thinking of reading a novel for a change. Ren here is going to recommend something for me. 

Ren: … … … …

Roy: Oh? Back again today? 

Gast: Hm? Again today? 

Roy: Yep. He was here yesterday too. Isn’t that right, Ren? 

Ren: … … … Uh. Y-yeah.

Gast: Huh? Didn’t you say you had a book you wanted to get? 

Ren: Uh. There was something I forgot to buy. 

Roy: Wow. Even after buying close to ten books yesterday, you’re already back for more. You must really love books, huh? 

Ren: … … Yeah. 

Roy: Well, let me know if you need anything. If we don’t have it in the store, we can always order it for ya. 

Gast: Well, I don’t want to keep you from your work either, so we’ll just browse for now. 

Roy: Sure, take your time! ______________________________________________________

Gast: Well, here we are in the novel section. So many books… It’s hard to know where to start, huh~? 

Ren: Well, what kind of books are you looking for? 

Gast: Hmm, something easy to follow. Complicated plots are a bit much for me, so I’d prefer something entertaining over artsy. 

That said, if you’re recommending love stories or something… I guess I could read one—for, you know, educational purposes. 

Ren: No, I won’t be able to recommend anything from a genre I don’t read. 

Well, how about this book—The Door into Winter? It looks like something you might enjoy. 

It’s a classic Sci-Fi novel. The premise isn't complex, so it’s easy to get into and it’s got a solid plot. It’s also a common choice for children’s book reports. 

Gast: Oh, Sci-Fi, huh? I’ve avoided it cos’ the premises always seemed too complicated, but if kids can enjoy it, I probably can too.

Ren: And this one here’s a short horror story, but I recommend it too—The White Cat. The plot twist at the end is great. 

Gast: It’s nice that it’s short—but, uh, horror? I don’t dislike it, but right now, I’m in the mood for something more light-hearted. 

Ren: A light-hearted story… … In that case, how about—A Cat Am I? I’m not a fan of the ending, but it’s light and easy to read—

Gast: Huh? W-wait a second. 

Ren: What? 

Gast: These are all books about cats, aren’t they? Even The Door into Winter—it’s got cats on the cover!

Ren: … … It’s just a coincidence. Every one of them is a classic with an entertaining and easy-to-understand story. 

Gast: Hmm? Is that so? In that case, I’ll take all three. 

Gast: I’ll let you know my thoughts on them after I’m done ♪

Ren: Write them down. I’ll read it if it’s in the form of a book report. 

Gast: Haha, deal. By the way, aren’t you going to grab some books yourself, Ren? 

Ren: I’m good. 

Gast: Huh? Didn’t you say there was something you forgot to buy?

Ren: ! 

Uh—I thought I did, but it turns out I didn't. So just go and pay for your stuff already. 

Gast: ? Okay…  ______________________________________________________

<A few minutes later. The doorbells of the bookstore chime as they leave. > 

Gast: Well, I’ll save these novels for bedtime reading. Since we’re already here, how about we drop by a darts bar on our way back? 

Ren: You… Darts again? 

Gast: Haha. It’s a fun and casual way to pass the time, you know? It’s just that it’s no fun to play alone, so I need someone to play against… …

Ren: … … If it’s just for a little while, I’ll join you. 

Gast: Wha—Ren!? You mean it!?

Ren: What’s with that reaction? 

Gast: It’s just so unexpected, Ren. You usually wouldn’t agree to play darts with me… …

Ren: Oi, are we going or not? Make up your mind. 

Gast: Oh, we’re going! Haha, there’s a place nearby I go to regularly. Come on, let me show you the way ♪

______________________________________________________

<Later, outside the darts bar… >

Gast: Wowww~ that was a blast. We somehow ended up playing five games, huh? 

I’ve got to say, Ren, you’re a natural. The way you corrected yourself after a miss was seriously impressive. 

Ren: Hmph. Darts isn’t even that hard. Once you’ve got your form down, it’s all about making adjustments, just like you would for shooting. 

Gast: No way, that’s the hardest part! If we’d played one more game, I’d probably have lost. 

Ren: Who knows? But I wouldn’t have minded playing another round with you. 

Gast: Hmmm~?

Ren: Huh? What? 

Gast: I was just thinking…  you’re being unusually social today, Ren.

Ren: … … That’s not true. 

Gast: No, it totally is. 

Um. Usually, when I invite you to do something, you hit me with a bunch of sharp responses like “Not interested,” “Not my concern,” or “Stop bothering me.” Those really sting, you know? 

Ren: Well, it’s because you’re hella annoying, that’s why. 

Gast: See! That’s exactly the kind of response I’m talking about!

Ren: … … Sigh.

Gast: Don’t get me wrong, I’m genuinely happy you agreed to hang out. However, if I’m really forcing you to do stuff you rather not, I’d feel bad about it. 

Ren: … … When I was delivering those letters, you went out of your way to help me with the route planning. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to return the favour once in a while. 

But I didn’t expect you to overthink it and call it me being “unusually social.”

Gast: Oh~, so that’s why, huh? 

Haha. Sorry, that was a mean thing for me to say earlier. I was just surprised you agreed to hang out with me—it’s rare, so I got carried away. 

Ren: Hmph… …

Gast: Hey~, would you mind hanging out with me for a little longer? Things have been so hectic lately, I could really use something relaxing. 

Ren: … … Something relaxing? 

Gast: I’d like to go spend some time with cats. That’s the ultimate stress relief, isn’t it? 

Ren: There’s no helping it, I guess. I’ll join you, just this once. 

Gast: Haha, thank you~ ♪

Ren: Hey. Let's get going already. 

Gast: Alright~ ♪

The End

______________________________________________________

Translator's Notes:

This story cat's whims is unlocked from the skill tree in Gast Adler’s 3* Hero Card, Dear Mr. Postman.

It's also dedicated to e-san. Thank you for all the encouragement, the 2am brainrotting over Enstars and Helios, for laughing with me at Ren's tsundere way of caring, at Gast's being so uwu, at whether Gast was teasing or serious about Ren recommending love stories, at the irony of Gast not getting Sci-fi despite being in a game that's all about it and so on. I'm so glad that we have the same oshis. Merry Christmas!

It's not proofed, so if there's any mistakes or feedback, please DM me.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Dee Dee Sharp - Mashed Potato Time 1962

"Mashed Potato Time" is a 1962 single written by Kal Mann and Bernie Lowe, and performed by Dee Dee Sharp, with backing vocals by The Orlons, on her debut album It's Mashed Potato Time. The song refers to the Mashed Potato dance move, which was a fad. It was one of several songs that at that time that referenced the dance, another being James Brown's "Mashed Potatoes U.S.A.". The Marvelettes song "Please Mr. Postman" is mentioned in the lyrics and is copied in the arrangement. The Marvelettes covered this song on their 1962 album The Marvelettes Sing. Also mentioned in the lyrics are the songs "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" by the Tokens and "Dear Lady Twist" by Gary U.S. Bonds. Sharp recorded a sequel to "Mashed Potato Time" called "Gravy (For My Mashed Potatoes)".

In 1996 the Campbell Soup Company featured the song in a $30 million advertising campaign, using a new, more upbeat recording by Sharp. The song reached number 1 on the Cashbox Top 100 and Billboard R&B charts in 1962, as well as number 2 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. It was kept from the number 1 spot by "Soldier Boy" by The Shirelles. Billboard ranked it as the number 3 song for 1962. It became a gold record. In Canada it was number 2 for 2 weeks, also due to The Shirelles.

"Mashed Potato Time" received a total of 79,9% yes votes!

[legendary-pink-dot]

Please, Mr Postman

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit

Warnings: Unprotected PiV sex, butt play, creampie, oral (f receiving), and lots of sex toys. No ages mentioned or alluded to. Reader is married. There are themes of infidelity, blackmail and stalking, but Reader is fully consenting and willing. Mailman Joel is a sleaze, consider youself duly warned.

Word Count: 4.3K (by far the longest thing I've ever written, whew)

Summary: Every morning at 9am sharp, you take your coffee to the front room and listen for his mail truck.

Notes: Poking my nose out of my hiatus hidey-hole to write this as a gift for my very very dear friend @magpiepills for the prompt "Stole your mail and uses it to sexually blackmail you mailman Joel". I love you, my sweet Bat. 💜 Giant thanks to @for-a-longlongtime for the last-minute rapid beta read. Much love to my sluts for cheerleading: @youandmeand5bucks @exquisiteserotonin @arcanefox207 @sparklefarts38 @redhotkitchen I have never written Joel before, so please be kind. Thank you and enjoy.

Please, Mr Postman - Joel Miller x f!reader

Every morning at 9am sharp, you take your coffee to the front room and listen for his mail truck. The squeak of the rusted brake pads as he parks at the end of the block is a melody, as distinctive to you now as the chimes of the classic ice cream trucks from your childhood, eliciting a Pavlovian response of salivating over the treats it held within.

Life was easy and carefree at that age. You didn't have responsibilities, grown-up worries, or this present burden of being a Stepford wife to a rich man who occasionally did some illegal activities. He was kind to you and you loved him, desired him even, but despite being a criminal he was boring. He was not the adventurous, filthy man in bed you secretly hoped for. But you knew things about his work that made it dangerous to leave, and financially he made sure you were kept comfortable enough to not want to tell. So you stayed. And here you were, marooned in a leafy suburb, stuck at home all day and fantasizing about the hot new mailman. What a cliche you've become.

The mailman's name was Joel. And he really did command attention.

Salt and pepper hair that curled around the edge of his blue cap. Dark brown eyes that showed a few flecks of amber the rare times you've seen them up close. A strong nose with a neatly trimmed mustache and gorgeous facial scruff. Large hands that could football-hold an entire package in each.

And speaking of packages: his looked prodigious. It looked obscene what he was carrying around in those standard issue United States Postal Service shorts. You dreamed about it at night -- how thick his cock must be and how you'd lick it like those sweet summer popsicle treats -- as your husband snored beside you after giving you one pitiful orgasm and then immediately coming himself and falling asleep.

You never thought anyone could be attractive in such a dumpy grey uniform, but somehow Joel found a way.

In the summer heat he always rolled up the edges of his pleated shorts, a thick pocket chain clacking along his meaty thigh. Light hair dusted his tanned legs. His black leather belt was cinched tight, further emphasizing his delicious bulge. The sleeves of his polo shirt were similarly rolled and showed off well-toned forearms from all the lifting and carrying. In short: he was a dream.

But you'd never go further than look. You loved your husband, for all his faults. You'd even placed a big order of sex toys last week in the hopes he'd be willing to spice things up in the bedroom. The tracking app says it's out for delivery, and right on cue, Joel comes walking up your driveway cradling a large cardboard box in his hands. Damn, he looks good today.

"Mornin', ma'am," he drawls politely. You think he winks at you, or maybe it's just the sun hitting his eyes. "Got a big one for you today."

You move to take it, but he shakes his head. "It's heavy. Let me put it inside for ya."

The thought of him being inside your home makes you tingle. You don't even think to consider that postal workers aren't supposed to go past a customer's front step.

You hold the door open and Joel stomps through, leaving bootprints of dirt on your "Home Sweet Home" welcome mat.

"Ma'am? Where d'ya want it?" He sounds amused, and you realize with a start that he's been standing in your entranceway for an awkward length of time. You'd been too busy ogling his legs, and more, in those rolled-up shorts. Was it your imagination, or was he not wearing underwear?

"On the coffee table, please." You lead him to the sitting room beside the entranceway. It's your happy place, your sanctuary, the spot you have your morning coffee in as you listen for the siren song of his mail truck.

Joel gently places the box on the coffee table and turns to you.

"I'll just wait here while you check that everythin's in order."

"What… what do you mean?" You feel your cheeks heat. Fortunately the box was nondescript, but it did give off a brown paper wrapping porn vibe.

"It's insured for $700. Must be some expensive stuff. 'S my job to write a report if anything's broken."

Nervous sweat starts beading down your back. "It… it's okay… I can report online if there's a problem…"

"'S no trouble. Let's just take a quick peek." Joel's already pulled his keychain ceramic boxknife out of his shorts, slitting the box open before you can say a word.

You stand there mortified and unable to speak as Joel opens the flaps, pushes aside the cushioning packets, and stares at the huge assortment of boxed sex toys.

"Well, well, darlin'. What do we have here?" His voice is a mixture of amusement and something deep and growling. Predatory.

Your face burns in embarrassment. "You… you can go now," you manage to squeak. "Please."

"Don't think so, sweetheart. Gotta check that everythin's in good working order." His boxknife shicks open the first product, a G-spot vibe from the looks of the box. Just before he can unwrap it, you find your voice. You hope you sound self-assured and assertive.

"That's enough. Please leave. My husband will be home any minute."

Joel smirks as he continues to rifle through the box. "Naw. He won't. Just did my route on Pine Street and saw him gettin' busy with that blonde divorcee in the cul-de-sac. Miz Perkins, wasn't it? Big tits."

It's a gut punch, and it makes you forget that this suddenly skeezy mailman is in your home and looking at your new collection of sex toys. An affair? He wouldn't. Not YOUR husband. Not your husband who rarely wants to do anything interesting in bed…

"Sorry, darlin." Joel pulls you out of your thoughts. "Fuck that guy. Wanna have some fun?" He pulls the vibe out of the box and waves it in front of you with a lopsided smirk.

This is too much to deal with. Your head is spinning, a mixture of emotions running through you. Including lust, incredibly enough. This mailman appears to be the take-charge dominant you wish your husband was.

"No. Like I said, you can leave now." You manage to say it firmer this time despite the gushing between your thighs. "Just go."

"Think I'll stay," he says, crossing the space between you in one step and pushing you backwards onto the sofa. "Don't want me reporting your ol' man to the authorities, now do ya?"

"Wha… what?"

He chuckles at your comically large-eyed look of shock. "Yeah, know all about it. Been readin' yer mail," he says matter-of-factly. "He's shit at covering his tracks. Who sends fake invoices through the mail? With his real address too. Amazin' he hasn't been caught yet."

"You've been reading our mail?! I should report you!" Who is this guy?

Joel looms menacingly over your prone figure. You didn't dare move. "Sure, darlin. Postal employees got a responsibility to report crime. I'll be fine," he smiles, leaning back a little, but not enough for you to escape. "But the Postmaster General don't take too kindly to mail fraud, or those aidin' and abettin'. That's a felony."

"But it's not a felony for a mailman to read people's mail?"

"Tell you what," he drawls, still in that matter-of-fact tone that should be so very wrong in this situation. He rifles through the box and pulls out a hot pink butt plug, wiggling it at you. "You're gonna let me try out some of these toys on ya, and I won't report him."

Blackmail shouldn't turn you on, shouldn't turn anyone on, but it does. You're only human, and besides, you definitely don't want to go to prison. You can't control your reaction as your upper half shrinks back into the sofa while your lower half stretches out towards Joel, the hem of your sundress hiking up like it has a mind of its own. He gives you a wolfish grin and rests a broad, heavy hand on your knee.

"Jus' what I thought, sweetheart. Seen you watchin' me out the window every mornin'. You been wantin' me to stuff your pretty little mailslot, haven't ya?"

A whimper escapes your throat. "Yes. Please," you whisper, thighs sticky between your panties and suddenly aching.

"Okay, honey. Gonna start easy with this lil' thing." He holds up a clit sucker, shaped like a penguin with a little pink bow around its neck, and switches it on to test it. It springs into life immediately. "Ah, great. Love how companies pre-charge things now-a-days."

How can he be so conversational about this? Does he blackmail all the married women in the neighbourhood? Well, maybe just the ones who have something to hide. Like you. You silently thank the heavens for sending you an attractive skeeze, at least. And Joel is so very, very attractive.

You spread your legs for him.

He ruches your sundress up your thighs and whistles appreciatively, the sound going straight to your core. "No panties? And gushin' out of that tight little snatch already? Didn't take ya for such a filthy girl."

"It's… it's hot out," you stammer, unable to think straight.

"About to get hotter," he smirks again, and damn that attitude is doing things for you. "You ready, sweetheart?"

You nod, and he keeps eye contact as he nestles your clit into the little penguin's mouth and switches it on.

Your back arches and you nearly scream out loud.

The sensation is warm, and there's no direct contact but it's like your clit is being gently suckled. You've never felt anything like it. It's only been three seconds and your hips are already squirming to chase more.

His hand presses lightly on your hip to give you something to brace against as he clicks the intensity button up a couple notches, and it's like waves upon waves of the absolute perfect pressure on your clit. The buildup in your core is so fast that you don't even realize you're coming until it's almost over. You also hadn't noticed that you'd grabbed his muscled forearm and sunk your nails into it, leaving little half-moon indentations in his tanned skin.

"That was… wow." Your gasps echo around the quiet sitting room. Joel doesn't say a word, just reverently watches your pussy pulse and gush out a few drops of slick. "Thanks." You wish it had lasted longer and were sad it was over. Oh well, a nice memory for the next time you think about Joel, or try out some of these toys with your husband.

You start to push your sundress down, assuming he'll leave now and half-grateful for it, but he grabs your shoulder and forces you back down into the pillows.

"Where you off to? I'm just gettin' started with you, darlin'."

"But…."

"But nothin'. Ain't done till I say so."

All you can do is stare at him, unsure if you should be angry, turned on, or plotting an escape.

He undoes his leather belt and slowly, threateningly, slides it out through the loops on his uniform shorts. "Don't make me use this, sweetheart. Gonna be a good girl for me now, ain't ya?" The depth and tone of his voice say he isn't joking.

You gulp, still tingly from your rapid orgasm. And ready for another one, you think as you make eye contact with Joel, feeling a bit bolder now. We're here, I let him do that much already, might as well go for it.…

The penguin gets discarded as Joel carelessly tosses it to the carpet and takes the hot pink butt plug out of the box again, running a finger along the curve of its long but slim length. "Hmmm. Pretty. This for you, or your husband?"

"Uh… me…"

"Ah, ah" he tuts. "You really are a nasty girl. You take one of these before?"

You shake your head, suddenly shy. You hadn't even wanted your husband to know about the butt plug, thinking he was so sexless that he'd be disgusted. Apparently not, if he's railing Ms Perkins with the big tits over on Pine Street.

"S'okay. Gonna slide it in real good for ya." While you shove a little sofa pillow under your hips, Joel combs through the box on the coffee table and pulls out a bottle of lube. He pops the cap and drizzles some over the plug, and you gulp again imagining it inside your ass. A faint scent of synthetic vanilla fills the air and for some reason it calms you, allowing you to relax your muscles as Joel slides the plug along your crack, rubbing and smearing the lube around your asshole.

"You like that?"

You do. You really do.

Your little moan spurs him on and he gently presses the generously lubed tip of the plug against your hole, just the teensiest bit. You look up at his face, that stupidly attractive face of a skeezy mailman who is sexually blackmailing you, and find yourself desperately wanting to feel his scruff on your inner thighs.

Apparently he's a mind reader, too. He smiles and lowers his head to your crotch, and licks your clit with his wide tongue at the same moment he presses a bit more of the plug into your ass. You nearly scream for the second time in minutes.

"That's it, honey," he breathes against your core, wiggling the tip of the plug in and out and hitting nerves you didn't even know existed back there, making your hips jump involuntarily. "Openin' up so nice for me."

A few more mind-numbing, distracting licks of your clit and the plug slides all the way in with a little pop. You're equal parts turned on and proud.

"Well, ain't that a pretty sight," Joel whistles appreciatively. He pulls up to sit back and just stares at you all spread out on the sofa with one leg hiked over the back, your sundress balled up over your stomach. He taps the pink flared base of the plug a few times like he's idly flicking away a cigarette. It wiggles inside you and you squirm and squeal. Actually squeal. You're still mad and weirded out and other things, but you're feeling too good to give up now and you're starting to not care how easily you're caving to this man.

"Lessee what other treats we got in here." He rifles through the box again. His face falls into a comical droop of sadness and he sighs loudly, holding up a little box marked 'Girth Extender Sleeve'.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry." The condescension in his voice shouldn't turn you on this much. "Yer old man got a tiny dick? Not fuckin' you proper? No wonder you been starin' at me every day, desperate for a real man."

Before you can protest -- he's not tiny, I just wanted to spice things up, well okay maybe he could use a bit of help -- he unzips his uniform shorts and pulls out his hard cock, holding it at the base so you can take a good look. "Got a special delivery for ya, baby."

Yeah, Joel definitely doesn't need any artificial enhancement.

His cock is thick. Not super long, but probably one of the thickest you've seen, outside the few porn films you watched when you were younger and more uninhibited. There's foreskin covering what looks like a large mushroom head, and a prominent pulsing vein running up one side. It all looks delicious, and you unconsciously lick your lips as he smirks at how you take it all in.

"You want it real bad, dontcha?" He fists himself a few times, his foreskin sliding on the downstroke to give you a peek at the thick head. "Yeah, you sure do. Never knew I had such a little slut livin' on my route."

Shuffling forward, he grabs your thighs and spreads them wider. The head of his cock feels impossibly heavy as he slaps it on your clit, making you gush a little with every hit.

"Joel, will you… can you lick me again for a bit?" Your squeaky voice is impossibly needy and pathetic.

"Naw," he says, flicking the base of the butt plug again and making your hips jump. The plug was so comfortable that you'd already forgotten it was in there. "Gotta finish my route. Can't talk to customers with my face smellin' of pussy, ya know. I'm representin' the United States Postal Service out there."

"Oh, does the USPS regularly fuck its customers too?"

"Sure does, darlin'. Bends 'em over and gives it to 'em hard with the price hikes every year."

He roughly pulls you up and bends you over the sofa arm, positioning you like the personal little fuckdoll you are for him.

"Got the next best thing though." He slips on a tiny purple fingertip vibe, your free gift from the toy company for such a large order. With such thick fingers, it looks like he's wearing an upside-down Ring Pop. It gives a loud rumble when he switches it on, and he laughs as he tugs his shorts down over his thighs. "Cheap ass shit. Hope the battery lasts. But it don't take you long anyway, right sweetheart?" He reaches around your hips, lifts your sundress and presses the vibe straight on your bare clit without any preamble, and your hips slam backwards into his crotch as you scream again, his cock jostling the base of the butt plug and sending shockwaves both up and down your core at the same time.

"Yeah. Thought so."

Amid the mixed sensations suddenly comes a new one: the thick head of his cock slipping into your cunt as he swirls the vibe around your clit, not letting it rest in any one spot long enough for your liking.

"… Wait! No condom?"

"Naw. You're on the pill, right?" He doesn't wait for your answer, as if he already knows.

Normally you don't enjoy this position but you're too far gone now, pushing your hips back and encouraging him deeper in, more than wet enough from all the playing to take him in.

"Greedy little slut, ain't ya?" He feeds you another inch, pauses, then another, torturously slow as you stretch around his thickness. "Tight little snatch feels so good. Miz Perkins with the big tits probably don't feel this sweet." Joel demeaning your husband like this and throwing the adultery in your face should make you mad -- at both of them -- but it only turns you on more, beads of sweat dripping down your spine as he slides all the way in to the hilt, giving you a few moments of grace to adjust to the size of him.

One strap falls down your shoulder, letting your tit pop out of your sundress and he palms it roughly, giving it an exploratory squeeze. The finger vibe is still buzzing and he swipes it across your nipple, the nubby texture chafing just before the point of pain. "Nice. You like that? Let's add somethin'."

Mentholated 'arousal balm' was another of your free gifts, and not something you'd ever thought to try. Joel twists open the little tin and dips the finger vibe in it.

"That smells strong, do we have to?" Wooziness hits you as the peppermint smell goes straight up your nostrils.

"Like I said, baby, gotta make sure everythin' works. Else I gotta do a return," chides Joel, tossing the tiny tin on the floor. You watch it roll under the baseboard heater as he grabs your hips roughly and repositions you. "Real fucking pain, returns. Lotsa paperwork."

He brings the now-mentholated finger vibe back to your clit, and two seconds later it feels like your entire pussy is on fire.

Thank goodness he didn't put any on my a--

Joel moves the base of the butt plug aside and presses the finger vibe against your asshole.

The menthol soaks into your tender membranes and it's so, so cold and hot at the same time. Your brain melts along with it.

Everything is lit up now and you squirm as he slides his hardness back into your pussy and gives a few experimental thrusts. "Tight fuckin' snatch," he mutters, your walls clenching around him in time with his finger flicking at the plug, your entire lower half burning but not in a terrible way. "But could be tighter." He suddenly pulls his cock out and you whine, loudly and needily.

"Please, Joel."

"Please what, darlin'?"

"Put… put it back in? Please."

"All in good time. Gotta give those walls an extra little stamp."

You look over your shoulder to see him drizzling lube into the girth sleeve and slipping it onto his cock. He's already so thick that it's a tight fit, the soft tube slipping off a couple times before he finally stretches it enough so it can slide all the way on, pulling it down so his large head pokes out of the top. You clench involuntarily.

"Umm. That's not gonna fit."

"Sure it will, honey," he drawls. "Didn't think you could take that pretty little pink plug, right? And look at ya now."

He's got a point.

"Gonna stuff that little slot full to the brim and turn ya into a size queen. Open wide, baby."

He's merciless as he slides back inside, at a curved angle since you're turned slightly to brace both your hands against the back of the sofa. The extender is smooth and feels just like his skin, and you're powerless to resist the incredible feeling of the extra width. He was exactly right: you felt full. With the thick pressure in your cunt pushing against the plug in your ass, you felt more stuffed than you ever had in your life, and what's more your pussy is still burning from the menthol balm. It was overwhelming but also glorious. In that second you knew it would be impossible not to think of Joel next time your husband fucked you, even if he wore this toy. Stupid sexy blackmailing mailman.

Baby animals had more stability in their legs than you do right now, your thighs spasming uncontrollably as Joel palms the vibe around your clit while holding almost half your waist in the span of his other large paw. He fucks into you hard from behind until you're so close to coming you can taste it. With the extender, his cock is hitting spots inside you that you didn't even know you had. A heavy chain pops out of the neck of his polo shirt and hits your nape with a loud clank as he slams into you from behind, the cheap poly-rayon blend of his polo shirt chafing your shoulders in a delicious burn as his chest presses close against your back and his hips smack against your ass, jostling the butt plug with every thrust.

whirrrrrr goes the finger vibe as the tiny cheap battery dies, and he slaps your clit hard with the vibe one, two, three times and you come, yelling for the nth time since he left his bootprints on your welcome mat that morning. His grunts are loud and lewd as he fucks you through it, easing up only to make his thrusts shallower so he can reach a hand between you and gently pull out the butt plug with a little 'pop'. He tosses it and the finger vibe onto your pristine off-white carpet, not even bothering to aim for the opened box on the coffee table.

"So fuckin' tight," he wheezes hoarsely, "I gotta extra big load for ya," and he presses his hips so hard against your ass that you almost fall over the sofa arm, his voice faltering as he groans and you feel hot spurts of his come coating the inside of your pussy, as deep as he can put it.

You slump forward onto the sofa and he pulls out, both of you heaving. The fiery balm has mellowed to a gentle tingle and your core is pleasantly warm. Stretched out. Fucked out.

"Welp, gotta get back to my route." It's been only a minute and his matter-of-fact conversational tone has already returned. You peer over your shoulder and watch him pull his shorts back on, rolling up the hems and slicking his belt back into the loops, tucking his polo shirt back in with practiced efficiency.

"Will I see you again?" You hate how pathetic you sound, and you must be a real sight too, half naked with a sweaty rolled-up sundress stuck to your back, your ass still up in the air like you're waiting for him to stick it right back in and rail you again immediately.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be seein' each other again real soon," he says smoothly.

As you stand up, knees a little weak, a drop of cum drips down your thighs. "Glad I'm on the pill," you mutter to yourself as you pat down your wrinkled sundress and pause at the mess of packaging and boxes littering your sitting room.

"About that, darlin'." Joel smiles, pausing by your front door. "Miz Perkins over on Pine Street orders sugar pills and well, you know, packages get mixed up sometimes on the route. Might wanna check you got the right pills."

Joel slams the door and the mail slot squeaks rhythmically as you stand there, horrified, listening to him whistle a jaunty tune as he walks down your driveway and back to his mail route.

[obbydrawsstuff]

Mr. Dear, my favorite postman!!

[hypnautic-cereal]

Eddie Dear plushie concept :3

In the midst of my boredom after a fun day, I wanted to draw something to keep myself busy

Little did I know that I made the perfect mailman his own little perfect plush, CAUSE ISGEIAWHQUHAUA I WANT THIS SO BAD LOOK HOW CUTE I MADE HIS FACE, HES SO READY FOR WORK😭😭

I tried to make it as close to Clown’s plushie design as I could, and I also wanted to try and keep Eddie’s marshmallow-esc physique with his torso, arms, and legs

(Also here’s a little bonus thing I wanted to try out :3)

[dbh-bb]

2024 Team Highlight 59

Last but not least, our fifty ninth team in 2024's Reverse Big Bang was @epicqtefail working with @sevdrag

@epicqtefail had a fun, kooky idea, featuring Connor as an incredibly determined mailman, and Hank as an incredibly reluctant mail recipient. They created a full comic, four chapter covers, and three separate artworks for this gloriously unhinged idea

@sevdrag took this idea and ran with it, creating the iconic Wait A Minute, Mr Postman, in which War Is Hell, and Hank slowly but surely loses his goddamn mind and the fight against the wily ways of the world's worst stripper. Featuring Spongebob boxers holding on for dear life, and many clenched butt cheeks, it's a delightful crack fic that takes itself just seriously enough to be completely perfect.

Writers submissions for the 2025 Big Bang close tomorrow, so get those submissions in if you haven't already! You can find the forms in our discord server, and if you haven't joined but want to see what all the fuss is about, feel free to jump in!

[humanpurposes]

Just for a moment, part iii

Tom Bennett has a habit of climbing through her bedroom window whenever he's in trouble // Main Masterlist

Tom Bennett x OFC

Warnings: 18+, mentions of war and death, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, Tom Bennett's daddy issues

Words: 5400

A/n: Also available to read on AO3.

Monday 27th May, 1940

The morning starts off with a miserable drizzle. Kitty watches the grey fade to warmth through her shift, until the early evening sun shines brightly through the wide windows of the shop.

The month of May has very much been the same, cold and wet at first, but the weather has been clearing up nicely. Dad is devoted to the garden now, digging up the grass and planting vegetables in every free space he can. It’s on posters all over the shop: Dig For Victory. Live off spuds and SPAM when the rations run out.

Life feels mechanical; most days she doesn’t feel like a real person at all. All week she stands behind the counter, exchanging coupons for pitiful amounts of tea and sugar, stocking up the rack of newspapers and skimming over whatever horrors the headlines are screaming about that day. When she gets home, she pulls together some kind of dinner from what food they have while dad sits by the wireless. When mam gets home from the munitions factory, they gather around the table and eat in silence.

The house is so quiet without the boys. The only time it feels a little lively is when they get a letter from one of them, but they aren’t very consistent, especially considering there’s three of them.

Every so often, she gets a letter from Tom Bennett, but she tends to keep those to herself.

Her life has become a waiting game, she realises, existing between brief moments of happiness with nothing but her memories to entertain herself. She finds herself thinking about Tom an awful lot. It’s not so bad during the day when she has something to do, but when she lies alone at night, her mind can wander. She still leaves her window unlocked and huddles close to the wall because maybe— just maybe, he’ll come through the window and fill the space beside her.

Once she’s packed up the register and put up the shutters, she waves goodbye to Mr Gregory and leaves him to lock the door.

She runs into the postman at the top of Slade Grove. She feels slightly less guilty for not remembering his name when he greets her as “Catherine.” It’s what her teachers at school used to call her, and it’s what mam calls her when she’s in a particularly foul mood. Now it just puts her on edge.

“Can I give these to you now?” he says, handing her a stack of three envelopes. “Saves me a house later on.”

She flicks through them as she carries on walking. Two are addressed to Michael Wheelan and they look boring, letters from the bank or something official, but upon seeing the third she stops and smiles.

Miss Catherine Wheelan 28 Slade Grove Longsight, Manchester United Kingdom

It’s written in Tom’s handwriting.

She tears it open immediately, her eyes flickering between the page and the street ahead, weaving through any passersby.

Dear Kitty,

Sorry it’s been a while since the last one. Morale hasn’t been the best to be honest. Do you know what they’re calling the last eight months now? “The phoney war”. Apparently things are only going to get worse from here, not that it’ll help your nerves.

Thanks for checking up on dad for me. I do worry about him being on his own, with Lois being away and all. I wonder if she’ll be back yet by the time you get this. Have you heard much from your lads? I hope they’re doing alright.

You’ll be pleased to know I haven’t been picking as many fights, but sure you know me, sometimes I can’t help myself. I’ve been reading over what you said. I know it’s not helpful, I know it’s stupid, but then I’ve never been one to think things through, have I? I suppose that’s not much of an excuse. It’s instinctive. It’s like my head tells me what I’m doing is wrong, but I don’t know what else to do.

And we could die any day. Kitty, the state I’ve seen some of these men in…

The writing becomes crooked and trails off, ending with a smudge of ink.

Maybe I should write about something less depressing? Did I tell you about this gorgeous bird I met at Port Stanley?

Kitty’s heart drops.

Beautiful thing she is. The moment I saw her I knew I had to have her, so I stowed her away and brought her on board with me. She whistles a lot, and she has these lovely yellow feathers that really brighten up the bunk. She’s a noisy eater though, munches on seeds like she’ll never eat again. I’ve named her Vera.

I can see the look on your face now. Don’t worry, pretty Kitty, there’s no other bird that could ever replace you.

“Charming,” she mutters to herself.

I think I quite like these letters really, it’s nice to give myself a moment to think, even if I can’t hear from you straight away. That’s when I miss you the most, right after I’ve sealed the envelope and written your address. I hate the waiting.

She glances up, seeing she’s only a few doors down from her house.

I should have leave coming up soon. I’m looking forward to putting my legs on dry land and sleeping on a proper mattress…

She checks the top of the page. The letter is dated from weeks ago. “Soon” could mean anything.

… and the odd late-night tryst to see my fancy woman at number 28.

She scoffs a small laugh.

I bet you’d slap me for that. God I hope your mum doesn’t get her hands on this before you. Ey up Mrs Wheelan, see what I meant was, your Kitty’s a very well-mannered lady.

She purses her lips in an attempt not to laugh, coming to stop before her own front door.

Take care of yourself Kitty. Don’t spend too much time fretting over me.

Your dear friend,

Tom Bennett

Her smile fades quickly— why shouldn’t she worry about him?

It’s always the same with letters from Tom. Her heart leaps and for a few brief moments she feels so bright, just to have some kind of news from him. She could read pages and pages of his stupid ramblings and his moments of sincerity, but then it’s over all too soon. He signs off as her dear friend, then suddenly the words on the page are no longer new, and he’s still thousands of miles away, picking fights with his crewmates and launching shells at German ships.

The days pass slowly, but when she stops and looks back, the eight months have felt like nothing. Her life is flying past her and she hardly even notices, too caught up in the memory of those nights in September.

All for him to call her his fancy woman and feed her jokes about birds.

She knows better than to get her hopes up with Tom; she’s seen him go through every crush he’s ever had. He used to go through phases of ditching her for whichever sweetheart he was entertaining at the time, only to come crawling back to her when he’d inevitably cock it all up. Because he’s Tom Bennett, and he can’t help but make a mess of everything.

And like a good friend, she always kept her window unlocked for him, always held him when he needed it and did her best to set him straight. Because that’s what friends are supposed to do, surely, and he never said they were more.

Is that truly all she is to him? A dear friend, a listening ear and a convenient shag.

She rubs her fingers over her eyes because she will not cry over Tom Bennett. With the letter back in its envelope, she puts it into her bag and tries to find her keys, when she notices the smell of cigarette smoke. It’s hardly a rarity, but it makes her think of him.

For whatever reason, she glances over her shoulder at number 27. Low and behold, she sees a man with a cocky smile in a tight, white t-shirt, leaning in the doorway, lowering a cigarette from his mouth.

“Alright, pretty Kitty?” Tom says. “Was waiting for you to notice me–”

Suddenly she’s flying across the street and flinging her arms around his neck. She stands on her tiptoes to put her head over his shoulder and he leans into her, holding one arm over her back and one around her waist.

She closes her eyes. His breath is hot against her neck. He is here. He is real. He is more than a memory or words on a page.

Tom presses a soft kiss to her temple and she feels him smiling against her skin. “Take it you missed me then?”

She pulls away, holding back the urge to cry again, hardly able to catch her breath. This close, she can see every detail of him this close, the texture of his skin, the lines around his mouth and brows, the circles under his eyes, the scruff along the sides of his jaw, the little cleft on the tip of his nose. “Maybe a little bit,” she says.

She gives a little yelp of surprise when she feels him pulling her into the house. He closes the door behind them and then her back is against the wall, her handbag dropped by her feet.

Tom shrugs her coat from her shoulders before he surges in to kiss her, fiercely, desperately. Their bodies are tangled in one another, her hands in his hair, his tracing over the curves of her body through her dress.

And then he moves away. She tries to follow him only to realise he’s smirking.

“Missed me just a little bit?” he teases.

She wants to roll her eyes, but she just smiles. “Quite a bit.”

He drags his thumb over her lower lip, pulling it down to watch it come back into place.

Kitty huffs impatiently as she nudges her nose up into his.

Their eyes meet and the anticipation lasts a lifetime.

Tom hums as he leans in to kiss her again, slower and deeper, pressing her a little further into the wall by the firm hold on her waist.

“Missed you,” he utters between kisses, “so fucking much.”

She runs her hands over every part of him she can reach, his neck, the sharp line of his jaw, over his ears and into his hair.

“How long have you been back?” she breathes.

“Since this morning,” he says, coming to kiss her neck, the spot he knows will have her back arching against him.

“You didn’t come to the shop,” she says.

“Wanted to wait for you.”

She glances down the hallway, to the seemingly empty kitchen.

Tom huffs and pulls away from her, leaning with one hand against the wall. “Dad’s flogging his paper. Lois is out. Empty house for a few hours.”

She turns her head back to face him, pleased at the flush in his cheeks and the mess she’s made of his hair.

Tom’s eyes look down to her waist, where he presses his thumb into the fabric of her dress. “Come upstairs,” he says lowly, “I want to fuck you properly.”

She nods mindlessly, closing her hand around his as he leads her up the stairs, to a bedroom with two single beds, separated by a curtain. The room is about the same size as the boys’ bedroom in her house, but with only two beds, there’s enough space for two separate wardrobes. Her brothers make do with sharing everything.

Nothing about the room denotes Tom Bennett, not the floral wallpaper or the knitted throws on the beds. Not the books, perfume bottles and silver candelabras on the mantle, and certainly not the lingering scent of hairspray.

He leads her to the bed furthest from the door. She follows the stream of sunlight coming in from the window, and then she notices the details that are his. The ashtray and the empty beer bottle on the bedside table, the ditty bag and the pairs of boots at the foot of the bed, and the sailor’s hat left on the floor by the wardrobe.

The door closes and his footsteps tread softly behind her. His hands snake around her waist and turn her to face him.

She places her hands on his chest, running her hands over his torso, mapping his body through the soft cotton t-shirt. He feels firmer than he used to, a consequence of loading shells into guns and living off rations. She feels along his arms too, over muscles, veins, tendons and the scar below his bicep.

Tom presses a kiss to her forehead before he starts to undo the buttons on the front of her dress. A familiar restlessness rises in her belly, and suddenly she thinks she can’t bear to wait another moment. With the buttons undone, she puts her hands over Tom’s as he slides the dress down to the floor, along with her stockings and quickly slips out of her shoes.

She wastes no time unclasping her brassiere and muffles Tom’s awestruck groan by pressing her lips to his.

Somehow he manages to rid himself of his t-shirt and slacks without parting from her for too long, and he guides them both to the bed. She giggles as he lands on top of her and the metal bedframe squeaks.

“Now,” Tom says, pressing a delicate kiss to her neck. “Don’t have to worry about being quiet like we usually do, do we?”

“No…” Kitty breathes as he moves down, dragging his lips and tongue down her body. When he comes to her breasts, he cups one with his hand, and takes the other nipple in his mouth. Her head rolls back against the pillows but she brings her eyes back to him. She wants to cling to every moment, every sensation, all the movements of his tongue against her skin and his hair falling in front of his face.

“Eight fucking months,” he half growls as he moves further down, kissing along her stomach and running his hands over her hips. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

She instinctively bites her lip when he ghosts his lips over her clothed cunt.

He tuts. “Don’t hold back on me now, sweetheart. I want to hear how much you missed me,” he says, curling his fingers around the hem of her underclothes before dragging them along her legs, leaving them somewhere on the floor.

He trails teasing kisses along her thighs. She squirms and whines every time he edges closer to her centre, until finally, he drags his tongue through her folds, from her entrance, up to her pearl with a deliciously agonising pressure. She doesn’t hold back the moans that sound in her throat, curling her fists through the bedsheets.

He works over her pearl with his tongue and lips, groaning against her as he does it and squeezing his fingertips into the flesh of her thighs.

It’s been so long since she’s felt like this, even on the nights when she felt herself getting too desperate, she can never quite match the feeling.

In a way it infuriates her that he can make her feel so good, but what’s worse than that is that he knows it. She can see his smug, half smile as he mouths at her cunt, so pleased at the noises she makes and the way her hips are starting to move against him.

She curls in on herself as her peak washes over her, but he manages to hold her down, right where he wants her, and keeps going until her whole body shudders and her legs are quivering.

“Fuck,” she breathes, “Tom…”

Even then he doesn’t give her much of a reprieve. He moves back for a moment before he positions her legs over his shoulders. His tongue is against her again, only now he moves lower, teasing over her entrance.

She whines impatiently.

“Fucking greedy, aren’t you?” Tom chuckles. He licks over her again— too much and not enough. “Just take it, take what I give you.”

But it doesn’t take long for him to slip his tongue inside her while his nose nudges against her. His name is a dreamy chant on her lips now. The pleasure rises and burns until she’s sure she can’t take anymore. She threads her fingers into his hair, gripping at it, urging him on, just a little more, and she’s sure she’ll fall apart.

Then he’s gone without warning, but he soon compensates the loss by replacing his tongue with a single finger.

Tom gazes up at her through his lashes. He keeps his eyes on her face as he pushes inside of her, deeper, deeper, until she takes a sharp intake of breath when he finds her sweet spot.

“Give me another one,” he groans, lowering his head down to circle his tongue over her. “Come on, pretty Kitty.”

She follows it like a command. Her second peak is sharper than the first and has her gasping for breath as she feels herself come undone around him.

“There you go,” Tom grins as he brings her legs from his shoulders and starts to make his way up her body.

He props himself over her, one hand on either side of her head. His silver chain, usually hidden below his shirt, dangles in front of her as their eyes meet. They breathe together, chests rising and falling in perfect unison.

He hesitates for a moment, before he places a lazy kiss to her lips. “God,” he utters, “you’re so fucking gorgeous, do you know that?”

“Just keep saying it,” she says.

He takes one of her hands and guides it down to his briefs. She traces her fingers over the hem before she slides underneath and wraps them around his already hard cock.

“Fuck—” Tom hisses through his teeth, his brow furrowed and his jaw tight. He reaches for the bedside table and hands her a condom. “Do the honours for me,” he grins.

She tears it open and reaches back down to slide it along his length.

Slowly, he lets his weight fall against her as he slides inside of her, burying his face into her neck and letting out a shaky breath against her skin.

She brings her arms around his shoulders as he rocks into her, gently at first, but she can feel that it’s not enough. His breaths are getting sharper and his thrusts harsher as he whimpers into her neck.

She holds him as tightly as she can, hoping it will somehow soothe the ache in her heart, because she still feels the absence of the last eight months. Because she can already feel the time slipping away.

Tom withdraws from her neck. “Look at me,” he pleads.

She does, and he brings his forehead to hers. His nose presses into hers and their lips barely brush over each other.

“You feel so good,” he says. His expression fades into something darker and more determined as he fucks her harder and faster, “so fucking tight.”

She feels it too, the urgency to make up for the time and the distance with a carnal need.

They reach their climaxes together, moaning into each other’s mouths and keeping their bodies tight together. It never feels close enough.

Once they’ve caught their breath and they feel their desire mounting again, Tom lies back on the bed and brings her to straddle him.

While the position isn’t unfamiliar, the movements are, but she’s eager enough, gauging both of their reactions as she grinds her hips against his. She goes slowly, at first, bracing herself against him while Tom keeps hold of her waist to guide her movements.

“Nice and slow, just like that,” he whispers, gazing up at her with a slight smile, “show me how much you missed me.”

She doesn’t care how the bed creaks under them, that she’s breathing and moaning too loudly. There’s something freeing and unashamed about how they fuck. Seeing Tom’s face twisted in pleasure and hearing his needy whines as he starts to buck his hips to match her movements.

And when another climax tears through her, she wishes she could drag the moment out forever.

Tom takes her in his arms as they collapse back on the bed.

She feels like she’s dreaming, not quite awake but still aware of whose arms are cradled around her, whose heartbeat she feels against her ear, who reaches for a packet of cigarettes and flicks his lighter.

They talk about things they’ve already discussed over letters, the bloody war and all the misery that comes with it. Life in Longsight seems dull in comparison to Tom’s tales of sea battles and antics on board the Exeter. But even in the middle of the Atlantic, in the midst of a war that’s consuming the whole world, he still found time to wind everybody up. She can’t tell if she hates him or admires him for it.

There’s something different about him. Where he used to sound so cocksure and carefree, his voice is duller.

Tucked under his shoulder, she shifts her head to get a better look at him, propped up against the pillows, taking drags from his cigarette, pouting his lips as he exhales the smoke and tapping the ash into the tray. Her eyes tell her it’s the same person, the same jaw, the same nose, the same lips, the same shade of blue in his eyes.

No… he looks different in the way his face falls. He seems less smug than he used to be. He seems tired, older, colder.

Of course he’s different, how could he not be? The war has reached every corner of the world, but he’s been in the thick of it.

“Your dad must be glad to have you back,” she says quietly.

Tom’s body tenses underneath her. He brings his cigarette to his lips again, giving a little irritated huff as he exhales. She wonders if that’s a thread she should avoid tugging on, but it already seems to be unraveling. He reaches to stub the cigarette out in the ashtray.

“I didn’t want to go back,” he mutters, his expression stern and sad. “I thought I was doing the right thing by going. I’ve spent enough of my life making a mess of everything, I thought if I did something good then…” he glances down at her, then shakes his head. “But I was so fucking scared—” his voice breaks his eyes are glistening.

Kitty sits up and clenches her hand around his. He’s trembling.

“You’re alright,” she says, softly, “you’re alright.”

He breathes quickly and she can feel his heart thundering in his chest. His descriptions of the attacks on the Exeter and the aftermaths had been brief, which she thought must have been a way to protect her from it on his part. Maybe he didn’t want it in writing, maybe he didn’t want to think about it once he had lived it, to be surrounded by fire, smoke and death at every turn.

“I thought dad would help me. I told him I didn’t want to go back, I thought he could help me somehow.”

“And what did he say?”

His nostrils flare as he huffs again. “He thinks it’ll be a bad look for the movement. He doesn’t think I’m genuine.”

Kitty strokes her thumb over his knuckles and his fingers tighten around hers.

“For a moment I thought he’d be pleased,” he says, his voice thick and coarse, “just for a moment.

She breathes through the tight feeling in her chest. “Maybe if you spoke to him again—”

“No,” he says bitterly. “Made up his mind now. Sure, what does it matter either way? I’m not much use here.”

The light feeling in her limbs is starting to fade. She feels solid and heavy where her body meet the mattress.

“Your dad needs you,” Kitty says, “and Lois.”

He scoffs.

“Don’t tell me you’re upset with her too?”

Tom frowns. “Stupid fucking mistake. What does she think she’s going to do now?”

“She told you then?”

“She sent a letter.”

Lois had called in a few weeks ago to tell them the news. Mam already had her suspicions, even though Lois was barely showing. She and dad were horrified, but of course they didn’t make that clear until after she had left. “A baby on the way and no husband, for shame.”

“She knows it was stupid, but she’s not asking anyone else to deal with the consequences,” Kitty says.

“All because she wanted to mess around with some posh boy.”

Kitty swallows down the dry feeling in her throat. “I don’t think what she did was much different to me and you.”

Tom looks down at her with wide eyes. “Me and you are different,” he says.

“How so?”

His lips shift, like he might say something, but he doesn’t. “I don’t know, I thought Lois was more sensible than this.”

“She’s certainly not done herself any favours, but you won’t help by being angry at her.”

“But she’s always been the responsible one, you know?”

“That’s not fair, Tom, she’s your sister not your mother.”

Tom stares up at the ceiling with his lips parted. “No… I suppose not.”

He turns his head into her. “I should never have gone in the first place.”

There’s lots of things that she thinks she would want to change. Sometimes she wishes Tom wasn’t so reckless and impulsive. She wishes he’d find an interest that wouldn’t end him up in trouble with the police. She wishes he really was a pacifist, and that way he would be here, and the only thing separating them would be a single street and two windows. It hurts to think of what could have been.

But those things cannot be changed, and even then, he wouldn’t be him. He wouldn’t be the Tom Bennett she’s adored for as long as she’s had memories of him.

She shifts against him, hooking her arm over her chest and her leg over his hips. “I know things are hard,” she says. “Just don’t leave them on a bade note. You’ll regret it if you do.”

They don’t speak for a while. The evening drags on, the sun dips lower in the sky, voices and the shouts of children sound from the street and Kitty is content lie beside him, listening to his heartbeat and his slow, controlled breaths, while he plays with her hair.

“I love you,” he breathes, so softly she thinks it might be a voice in her head. “When we got hit, it was all I could think about. That I might die then and there, and you’d never know.”

She feels her mouth break into a smile. “You love me?”

“Oh leave off, I’ve said it now,” he says with a grin.

They dress and he leads her downstairs to the kitchen. While he fusses with the kettle, Kitty takes a seat at the table.

“You’ve not met Vera yet,” Tom says over his shoulder, nodding at the small birdcage on the table. Inside, a little, yellow canary with black, beady eyes tilts her head and chirps.

“Hello, Vera,” Kitty says.

Vera chirps back.

Tom turns back around with a single cup of tea and a plate of toast. “Have to be stingy with the butter and milk, obviously,” he says setting them in front of her.

“Oh,” she says, “no, I won’t have any, don’t waste your rations on me.”

Tom angles his brows at her. “It’s not a waste.” He takes a seat in the chair opposite and lights a cigarette. “Come on, you’ve been on your feet all day.”

She hesitates before she reaches for the milk, spilling the smallest dash she can manage into the cup and skipping the sugar. Then she takes a cut of butter no larger than her thumbnail and spreads it across the toast. She takes a few tentative bites, ushering some back to him and tearing off a few crumbs to feed to Vera. Even the most mundane parts of life have become luxuries now.

“How long are you back for?” she asks.

“A week.”

“And then?”

“Off to Dover. They’ve got some big operation planned.”

“And will you be back after that?”

He draws his tongue between his lips. “I don’t know.”

Before long, the front door unlocks and Lois’ heels click through the hallways as she comes into the kitchen. “Dad not back yet?” she says, tossing her coat over the banister. She stops at the head of the table and looks between the two of them. She’s holding a brown paper bag. “Hello, Kitty. I’ve just been in to see your mum.”

“Oh she’ll be wondering where I am,” Kitty says, glancing across to Tom.

His chin is tilted down, and he looks up at her through the smoke with pleading eyes, like an injured puppy.

“Tell ‘em the Gregorys invited you up for tea,” Lois shrugs. She reaches into the bag and pulls out tiny pieces of clothing that are vaguely familiar to Kitty. “For the baby,” she says. “Thank God your mum kept all your old stuff.”

“Make do and all that,” Kitty says, briefly catching Tom’s eye.

She downs her tea and hurries to the hallway. Tom had left her coat over a sofa in the front room, and her bag is still on the floor. She tuts at his carelessness and shouts a farewell to Lois as Tom comes to see her to the door.

“Thanks for stopping by,” he says formally, with the corners of his mouth curled.

“Of course,” she replies, peering round his shoulder to see if Lois can see them.

Tom looks round too and smiles back at her as he leans into her ear. “A pleasure, as always, pretty Kitty.” He catches her lips in a quick peck before he opens the door for her.

She hurries across the street and finds her keys in her handbag. Before she opens her own door, she looks back to number 27. The glow of the spring evening beams off the red bricks of the houses and Tom looks golden, watching her through the haze of smoke from his cigarette.

It’s like before, all those months ago, before he first went away.

Each night, Tom steals into her bedroom. They kiss as quietly as they undress each other and set themselves down on her bed.

It gets more unbearable with every day that goes by. Each hour is an hour closer to carrying on with her life without him, when he’ll become another person to wait for, another reason why she wants this war to end.

On their last night, he fucks her from behind, keeping her mouth covered and muffling his own sounds in the crook of her neck. His breath and the hold on her mouth only makes her more desperate.

If anything, that first evening has ruined her, going back to gentle lovemaking is excruciating.

She quietly pleads for “more… more…”

Tom clamps his hand tighter around her mouth. “No, no, no, be a good girl,” he whispers harshly, “just be a good girl for me, Kitty.”

Once they’re both too tired to carry on, he wraps his arms around her. He tells her he loves her, and she says it back.

Dover is closer than the Atlantic at least, but the distance is all the same. He’ll still be gone.

She watches him as he dresses and follows him to the window. Before he leaves, he kisses her, deeply and desperately, pulling her still bare body against him.

When they move away for breath she gazes into his eyes. She could never forget them, the storm of blue and grey rings around his pupil, but he already feels like a memory, something intangible, there but not quite.

He presses a kiss to her forehead and his lips linger there. “When I get my next leave, I’ll come straight to you,” he says.

She doesn’t doubt it’s a promise he’ll keep. Tom Bennett doesn’t often make promises to her, but so far, he’s never broken one.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series taglist: @hanula18 @azxulaa @whoknows333

[breannasfluff]

Being away from Ravio with the Chain means relying on messages passed to the postman for contact. The mail isn’t a regular occurrence, but there’s rarely a time he comes that there isn’t a letter for Legend in his bag.

Dear Mr. Hero, they normally start. Sometimes, there are a few that say Hey, buddy! The bowerbird talks about the shop, Legend’s house, and the sales; all light topics. The vet reads and rereads them, trying to pull anything more out of the words. Despite so many letters, he has little idea how Ravio is actually doing.

After a while, the letters have little doodles in the margins. Ravio’s bunny hood is a popular one, as is little rupee borders. But then there’s a flower and a little cartoon bird that’s probably Sheerow. Once there’s a tiny forest tucked in the corner of the page.

Legend saves them all and sometimes in the evening, he’ll take them out, tilting the letters to look at the drawings in the firelight.

Once, there’s a letter without a greeting, without pictures. Inside, it says, I hope your journey is almost done.

Legend writes back pages and pages, a nervous wreck that something happened and he couldn’t reach his flockmate. Hyrule spends most of his time trying to calm him down and Wild flutters with agitation.

The next letter comes with the usual greeting and cheerful doodles. I’m fine, Mr. Hero! says the letter. Just a little tired that day!

The vet doesn’t believe it for a second, but until a portal comes for him to pounce on Ravio, he turns his fussing on his other flock. Hyrule and Wild bear it with good grace.

I miss you, Legend writes once, crosses it out, and writes it again. Finally, he stuffs it in an envelope with a grumble. He can miss his friend, it’s fine. It doesn’t need to mean anything. Unless it does.

He snatches the next letter that comes from the postman’s hand and tears it open, eyes greedily scanning the text.

Dear Link, it starts. I miss you too.

Legend puffs and grins, ignoring the teasing from the others.

Also on AO3 here

[evita-shelby]

Hii!! May I request

Red lip stained letters for Eva and Billy?? ❤️.

thanks for the request!!

The Art of the Letter

or Vēnor!Eva gets drunk when Brilliant stops trying to woo her with his signature letters

cw: drinking, cringe, Eva doing the 1920s equivalent of drunk texting a guy you like, letter writing

gif by @kojiandrew

When the letters suddenly stopped, Eva was disappointed he had moved on from her.

Sure, it was bound to happen and despite her fiery nature ---even as subdued it was now--- Eva liked to take her time with love. None of her relationships so far have worked out and now that she is almost ready to have someone else again, the man has stopped pursuing her.

Eva likes to be wooed, doesn’t really care much about chasing after someone and it’s partly due to never having been the one to seek out the person. She doesn’t set out to find Love, Love simply comes to her.

Still, she’s made shitty decisions before and after a drink or so ---rather awful to lose the tolerance she’d built for alcohol once she went sober--- the witch finds herself writing a letter to the man she would really love to fuck.

Dear Unknown,

Do forgive me for this forwardness, but I cannot stop thinking of you.

“Ugh, no, it’s—” the witch has no idea how to even describe this cringe she feels reading it let alone writing it.

She can flirt in person with no fucking issue. She knows the language of flowers and the language of the fan to communicate desire and even set a date, but writing out lust and desire is another beast entirely.

My Dear Mr. Chang,

Here are all the things you gifted me, if our game has ended, then I have no need for these anymore.

It’s too cruel, she doesn’t want to end the game or give back her nice things, Eva wants him to start writing letters and give out invitations for her to refuse to make him work for it.

My Dear Mr. Chang,

Have I lost your interest already?

A nicer one that doesn’t close the door on the game completely. Unfortunately, it’s desperate, something Eva’s vowed to never become.

Against her good reason, she has another drink and takes up her pen again.

By the time its morning, several much more illegible attempts have been made ---and the head of the household is uncharacteristically drunk as she just whines and gestures with her finger to the letters the maid is to leave for the postman.

In Regent Street the next morning, Brilliant Chang sees a name stand out amongst the mountain of letters of women who want to kill, fuck, or marry him.

Miss. Eva L. Smith of Mayfair, London.

My Dear Mr. Chang,

If the mountain doesn’t go to Mohammed, then Mohammed must come to the mountain. You have given me a taste of my own medicine, bravo, and I hope you are happy with the state of frustration you have me in.

Fuck You.

The letter is signed by the lady herself and boasts of a kiss pressed in her signature color.

The Chinaman smiles genuinely for the first time in a while and to both continue the game and prevent Major Campbell from finding a connection to his Small Heath buyers, takes a match and sets the envelope strangely smelling of high shelf liquor instead of perfume aflame.

When the game ends with him and the witch in his bed fucking the afternoon away, he brings it up and finds she has no recollection of it.

[deadpoets]

I'm super curious to know what your top three songs from each Beatles album are as well now!

i'm absolutely delighted that you asked abbi <3

please please me 1. do you want to know a secret 2. a taste of honey 3. p.s. i love you

with the beatles 1. till there was you 2. all my loving 3. please mister postman

a hard day's night 1. tell me why 2. and i love her 3. a hard day's night

beatles for sale 1. i'll follow the sun 2. kansas city / hey-hey-hey-hey 3. mr moonlight

help! 1. i've just seen a face 2. you've got to hide your love away 3. you're going to lose that girl

rubber soul 1. girl 2. nowhere man 3. norwegian wood (this bird has flown) revolver 1. here, there and everywhere 2. taxman 3. eleanor rigby sgt. pepper's lonely hearts club 1. she's leaving home 2. fixing a hole 3. getting better

magical mystery tour 1. your mother should know 2. blue jay way 3. strawberry fields forever

the beatles 1. honey pie 2. martha my dear 3. happiness is a warm gun

yellow submarine 1. hey bulldog 2. only a northern song 3. it's all too much let it be 1. i me mine 2. for you blue 3. one after 909 abbey road 1. mean mr mustard 2. sun king 3. here comes the sun

[ask-jay-gatsby]

Dearest Jay,

I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re doing OK? The people on here seem intent upon invading your privacy and I know that that’s rather uncomfortable.

You don’t have to respond, but know I’m always here to listen.

With love,

Daisy

@beautiful-little-f0ol

POST: LONG ISLAND, NY. AUG 1922

Dear Daisy,

I sincerely appreciate your checking in. Yes, it’s true—I’ve opened many letters to find questions from strangers that I wouldn’t even anticipate hearing from my closest friend. It’s been unsettling, actually. I had to raise my security detail and…well, since everyone’s so interested, that in and of itself has caused something of a rift in my relationship. Nick doesn’t particularly seem to care for the increased attention to our safety.

I’ve asked the postman to stop accepting letters without direct return addresses and names. My friend Mr. Meyer Wolfshiem can find just about anyone but I’d really rather not have to go to those extremes…just yet.

I can only hope your correspondents haven’t caused you such stress. I’m sure you’ve got enough with darling little Pammy running around! On kinder topics, how are the two of you settling after everything?

Sincerely and emphatically,

Jay

[bbynedtime]

Well, I wanted to procrastinate, so i made this list of what each little likes watching. They share some favourites with eachother of course, but I didn't want to repeat shows, so each appears only once.

All of these supposedly ran on the TV in the UK in the 2000s but definitely in Czechia. I only chose the shows I watched, so I'd be familiar with what I'm assigning. Some of these are very dear to me........ some not. But I don't judge the littles.

Now let's get to it shall we?

What shows would the littles like watching in modern era?

Ned Little - Timmy Time and LazyTown (my comfort character paired with my comfort shows? no.......... yes.)

Henry Collins - Strawberry shortcake (the old one) and Elmo's world

Henry Peglar - Louie (draws along every time). And also Postman Pat

Billy Wentzall - The fairly oddparents and Little Princess

Gram Gore - Powerpuff girls and Pokémon (screaming the name at 'who's that pokémon?')

Sol Tozer - Clifford the big red dog, I don't make the rules. Also Ben 10 (the 2005 series)

Billy Pilkington - Little red tractor and Angelina ballerina (the 2D version) but he wouldn't admit to that at gunpoint.

Johnny Irving - The Magic Roundabout when he's kid and when he's baby Teletubbies of course

Tommy Armitage is on that Pingu soup. Also Bill and Ben

Sophy Cracroft - Shaun the sheep and Littlest pet shop (collects the pets also)

Tom Jopson watches Maisy Mouse and Oakie Doke

Steffie Stanley - Mr. Bean: The Animated Series and Chuggington (no logic, pure vibes)

Harry Goodsir - Wallace and Gromit and also Deadly 60

Davie Bryant - Batman: The Animated Series and Fireman Sam

Georgie Hodgson watches Kim Possible and H2O: Just Add Water even when he's not little...

Neil Hickey doesn't really watch cartoons but if, then Schooby Doo - he's cheering for the monster to win. Also Animalia (cheering for the weasel what's-his-name)

Charlie Best - 64 zoo lane and Noddy

Chas Des Voeux - Horrible Histories. Also Igam Ogam (which I have to say I absolutely despise, but go off, Chas)

Billy Hoar - Thomas the tank engine and friends and also Phineas and Ferb

Johnny Morfin - Pablo the Little Red Fox and Blue's clues

Jamie Ross - Chip 'n' Dale Rescue Rangers (I think I'm funny) and Bob the builder

+ bonus Frankie Crozier - Moomin and also Adventures of the Gummi Bears

[snowiecrystal]

Transcript of Ivy and Eddie:

EDDIE: [Heavy panting] G-Greetings, M-Ms… Ivy!

IVY: E-Eddie! Oh dear, you didn’t need to run so rapidly towards my house! Your breath is running out!

EDDIE: [Heavily breathes in] What can I say? I-I’m the mailman of this neighborhood, a-after all!

IVY: No no no, you don’t need to tire yourself! Have a seat…

EDDIE: [Can be still heard panting] Phew… I can’t believe your house would be this far from the neighborhood! What made you live here in the first place?

IVY: That… I do not know of, I’m afraid.

IVY: Anyways, Eddie, I do believe I have some mail from the neighbors? Your bag is as stuffed as a pillow…

EDDIE: Of course, Ms. Ivy! You seem to get the most letters that they pile up in the office! Of course, not that I’m complainin’ though, except that means I need to work harder than the average postman! Can’t make the neighbors wait, y’know?

IVY: I do really appreciate your dedication to your own duties, but you don’t really need to overwork yourself . Say, if you’d ever come running to my house again, do expect some cookies and some tea. That’s the least I can do for your struggles. Maybe a bit of music, perhaps?

EDDIE: You sure you’re not gonna eat those first? I’ve heard from the miss of frazzled feathers there that you seem to finish even a full jar of that! The largest one, even!

IVY: [Ivy laughs in an awkward manner] Well…

EDDIE: Still, thank you for the kind offer, Ms. Ivy. Though I’m afraid I still need to send some mail to Mr. Beagle next! Or else he’s gonna make me all rowdy and we’ll be playing cat n’ dog! [Rapid footsteps slowly fade as he runs away]

IVY: D-Don’t tire yourself again! [Softly sighs]

IVY: You know… I think being in the neighborhood has been somewhat interesting, and somewhat enjoyable too. I can’t thank you enough, Wally-

[mostly-magical-polls]

for the steven universe song contest, these are the songs i have right now including the prelims. if im missing a song with lyrics and you have a video/audio of it, please submit it or dm me, also

PLEASE SEND SONG PROPAGANDA

We Are The Crystal Gems - Pilot Version

We Are The Crystal Gems - Season 1

We Are The Crystal Gems - Seasons 2-5

We Are The Crystal Gems - Full Song

We Are The Crystal Gems - Change Your Mind Version

Love Like You

Cookie Cat

Cookie Cat (Reprise)

Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart

Let Me Ska My Van Into Your Heart

Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Wash

Hey, Mr. Postman

Serious Song

Giant Woman

Birthday Song

Strong in the Real Way

Do or Do Nut

Steven and the Stevens

Ste-Ste-Ste Steven

Big Fat Zucchini

Steven and the Crystal Gems

Dear Old Dad

Fishing for Compliments

Be Wherever You Are

Steven Tag Song

On The Run

Lil' Butler Theme

Comet

Like A Burger

Destiny

Lapis Lazuli

Wailing Stone

Stronger Than You

Full Disclosure

The Jam Song

Do It For Her

What Can I Do (For You)

Tower of Mistakes

Haven't You Noticed (I'm a Star) - Official

Haven't You Noticed (I'm a Star) - Sadie

Haven't You Noticed (I'm a Star) - Steven

Haven't You Noticed (I'm a Star) - Gem Karaoke Version

Something Entirely New

Peace and Love on the Planet Earth

Don't Cost Nothin'

Don't Cost Nothin' (Reprise)

Empire City

Mr. Greg

It's Over, Isn't It?

Both of You

I Think I Need a Little (Change)

Here Comes A Thought

Like A Star

Fifteen Minutes

Crying Breakfast Friends Theme Song

Still Not Giving Up

I Could Never Be (Ready)

What's The Use Of Feeling (Blue)?

Potluck

The Working Dead

Sadie Killer and the Suspects

G-G-G-Ghost

That Distant Shore

Ruby Rider

For Just One Day Let's Only Think About (Love)

Familiar

Escapism

Change Your Mind

The Tale of Steven

Let Us Adore You

Let Us Adore You (Reprise)

Happily Ever After - Movie Version

Happily Ever After - Future Version

Other Friends

system/BOOT.pearl_final(3).Info

Who We Are

Isn't It Love?

No Matter What

Disobedient

Independent Together

Drift Away

Found

True Kinda Love

Change

Finale

The Tidying Song

Shining Through

Looking Forward

Cam's Camshafts

I'd Rather Be Me (With You)

Mr. Universe

My Little Reason Why

Being Human

Can't Hold Me

[ddagent]

Hi! If it hasn’t been asked already, what would an Addams Family AU of Ineffable Husbands look like? 🖤

Mrs Henderson didn't really care to visit the Crowley-Fell residence - that vast, antiquated property with a cast iron gate, vines crawling around the outside. But, she needed another item for the charity auction and she had heard wonderful things about Mister Fell's library.

As she strode up the long, winding drive to the house, she noticed the black Bentley sitting in front. Mrs Chalke, three roads over, had claimed she'd seen it driving by itself. The postman, Mister Manning, had - over three pints at the pub - admitted that Mister Crowley's plants had once tried to eat him. There were the children, of course: Adam and Beatrice. Mrs Henderson had heard all about their attempts to re-enact the French revolution on an unsuspecting classmate.

It was, therefore, with trepidation, that Mrs Henderson knocked on the door. It groaned open, revealing a blond man with a tweed bowtie standing just so, as if he had been expecting her. How such a nice man had ended up in a house like this... "Are you Mister Fell?"

"I am. How may I help you, my dear?"

"I'm running the local charity auction to raise funds for the cricket club. I was wondering whether you would—" Mrs Henderson trailed off. A snake, black scales rippling in a slither of sunlight, had crawled across the ebony tile and was making its way up the trouser leg of Mister Fell. He crooned at the snake, who flicked its tongue in response. "—a book? Could we have a book? For the auction?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear. But good luck with your auction! Please don't let my husband's roses eat you on the way out."

The door swung close of its own accord; a scratch of vinyl and music ebbed into the cool autumn air. Then she heard the whisper of vines on the ground and Mrs Henderson thought she broke the land speed record leaving the property.

send me a classic Halloween movie (anything from Hocus Pocus to Dracula) and I’ll write you five sentences about how I would make it an Ineffable Husbands AU.

[abubblingcandle]

🌹🌺🌷🌹🌸🌹🌺🌹🌸🌷🌺🌹

Thank you my love and incredibly supportive friend! This is from a later one of my August Drabbles for Day 17 and the prompt Resolving a Misunderstanding (Wait a Minute Mr Postman)

I've been spiralling this idea for a while with a throw away line in my fic Always A Good Boy For Roy. Here's a little sneak peak:

Dear Mr Lasso, I am afraid that you are going to seriously regret your decision to return Jamie Tartt to Man City! As a recent Richmond fan I have watched your team be bailed out of problem after problem by the excellence of Jamie’s play and his bucket loads of a goals. On the TV you look so nice but it must all be a lie if you see one lapse in judgement and throw him away. You truly are the wanker everyone calls you. I’m looking forward to the last game of the season and seeing Jamie hand your ass to you on a platter. Georgie Sutton