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[starry-eyedblog]

HI LAURY (≧ω≦。) I CAN FINALLY SEND YOU AN ASK AGAIN!!

okay ahem i was thinking about roomates!soap and gaz !! they are like very overly touchy and obsessed with you, literally can't keep their hands off you while you three are on the couch watching a movie. a bit insane and gross sometimes too BUT i love them very much. DO YOU SEE MY VISION HERE!! i don't think i am explaining it well BUT YEAH >:3

ruru!! i'm so happy yer free from jail, vry glad to have you back<3

and omg i'm actually frothing at the MOUTH i see your vision so clearly. why is this so hot?? i actually need them so badly. hope i do the idea justice !! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

warnings/tags: roommate! soap x roommate! gaz x reader, non con/dub con, groping, pervy/creepy behaviour, slight manipulation/guilt tripping, mentions of panty sniffing

you had moved into a new flat a few weeks ago, managing to snag a pretty big place for a cheap price. when you saw the amount on the post advertising it online, your eyes almost bulged out of your head and you rushed to contact the owners, which turned out to be two handsome men a few years older than you.

what was not to love of the place? close commute to your work, cheap, spacious and two very good looking men living there too. honestly it felt like a setup but you didn't question it, and your application was immediately accepted.

so in no time flat you were moving in, setting up all your own furniture with the help of both your roommates. and after a week of getting comfortable and your roommates keeping a good distance from you while you settled in, they finally asked you to join in with them on their activities that have always been just for the two of them. the first, was film night.

"every friday night, we have film night. snacks, drinks, shitty films. it's our routine, and now you're here, we thought you should be included." gaz had told you on thursday morning, an easy smile on his face as he stood leaning on the kitchen counter, eating toast in just his plaid pyjama trousers hanging low on his waist with everything else on show. it was very difficult to avoid oogling at his chest as you responded. "so-sounds great, i'll uhm pick up some snacks after work tomorrow." you ushered out.

it's now friday night at half nine and the three of you are huddled up under soft blankets on the pretty spacious couch with you squished in the middle of them. there wasn't any need for them to have their bodies so close to you, but you didn't say anything. gaz had his arm resting on the back of the couch, around your head which made you blush slightly, even though it was just for his own comfort.

you're only fifteen minutes into the film, some popcorn in your hand with eyes glued to the tv when you feel the first touch. it's a big, warm hand pressing at your thigh. you jump, head whipping round to soap who smiles innocently at you. his hand grips your thigh and you whine, stumbling out a response.

"soap, wh-what-?" you try to ask but soap shushes you up quickly, "shh hen, tryna watch the film." he points to the tv with his free hand, no longer looking at you. not even a minute later, another hand coming from the other side of you is now squeezing at the inside of your thigh.

your head whips round to face gaz instead, your eyebrows scrunching up in confusion. "why are y-" before you can get another word out, gaz is also shushing you and instead facing the tv - just like soap.

you try not to think about it too much, as they both seem to be enamoured with the film playing in front of them and uncaring of the fact both of their hands are gripping at your thighs that borderlines on just a wee bit too tight.

as the film continues, you start to forget about the weight of their hands on your thighs but that doesn't last long until both hands are moving again, one going to your front while the other slides back to rest on your arse.

your cheeks instantly flare pink as you sputter out words, trying to ask what they are doing. "ain't doing anythin', you're jus' too sensitive love. keep watchin' the film alright? me and johnny really want you to take movie night serious, can you do that for us?" gaz asks with a pout, guilt tripping you with his adorable puppy face that will soon become a recurring issue for you.

you find your head nodding slowly, eyes turning back to the tv once again as their hands start to fondle you. soap's hand teases at your cunt through your joggers, cupping it every now and then while gaz grabs and almost kneads at the soft skin of your arse, fingers slipping the joggers down enough that he can touch warm flesh.

it doesn't take long for you to be a whimpering mess on the couch, trapped between the two burly men who give you no respite, rough overworked hands fondling you so meanly and roughly, without care for your sensitive body.

"gu-guys the film, i thought you wan-hghh wanted to watch it." you splutter, head rolling back onto the shoulder of gaz who's on your left. "aye we do, so quit yer yapping quien." soap grumbles, leaving a sloppy wet kiss on your neck, eyes not even looking at the tv.

it doesn't take long for gaz's fingers to work their way down your joggers and push aside your flimsy underwear, a dry thumb pressing against your asshole that has you squirming, hips bucking to get away. gaz's other hand keeps you pinned down firmly with no issue, watching the way your mouth falls open to let out confused sounds of pleasure and pain.

as gaz does this at the back of your body, soap fondles with the front of you, hand slipping down your underwear to press at your clit which makes you moan out-loud, eyes fluttering shut. "dove, please. we haven't seen this film before, been waiting awhile." gaz complains, nibbling at your ear and you feel as if all your nerves have been set on fire. the guilt and pleasure swirls through your turned on body, mind starting to become foggy as they continue their groping.

you bite down on your bottom lip harshly, teeth digging into the skin and causing little tears. tiny droplets of blood stain your bottom lip as you sit there like a doll for them, your fuzzy brain desperately trying to focus on the film but at this point any ideas you had about the plot or characters has left you and replaced with the way your body is being groped at by your two new roommates.

soon soap's fingers are slipping past your folds and caressing your hole that seems to grow wet from the touch, even though it's a natural human body instinct, soap takes it that you're enjoying his and gaz's caressing which just feeds into his gross mindset.

"fuck gaz, should feel how wet they are. fuckin' turns em on being groped." soap moans deeply, one thick finger slipping into your wet hole that immediately clenches down on the intrusion. "that so? we picked the right one tav." gaz smirks at his friend, pulling his hands out of your joggers to then shove his dry thumb into your mouth roughly.

"suck lovie." he stated, watching the way your teary eyes didn't move away once from the tv while your mouth gently sucked on the digit. soon he slipped his thumb out and pressed it against your hole once again, but this time he gently started to edge his spit soaked finger inside which had your body flinching. you had never experimented back there, so this was a very new sensation.

"never had anyone back here, eh?" gaz jokes with a mean chuckle which soap joins while thrusting one finger meanly into your tight cunt that leaks around his hand. another finger is soon added, thumb pressing against your clit. you feel absolutely ashamed, your body enjoying the touch while your mind is conflicted.

before you can think much more about how wrong this is, how your roommates have ganged up on you to touch you without any consent, your stomach tightens and your cunt clenches down on soap's two fingers. your asshole pulses around gaz's thumb as your orgasm washes through you and your eyesight blurs from the intensity.

as you whimper and gasp on the couch, hips bucking and writhing to try get away, both men watch in awe as you cum. the film is long forgotten now, playing quietly in the background as it illuminates the room. once your orgasm finally comes to an end, your body slumps back into the couch, eyes half lidded and body limp while your roommates remove their hands out of you.

soap is the first to taste your sweet nectar, long tongue wrapping around his middle finger and sucking off your juices. he moans and pants like a dog in heat as he tastes you on his tongue, and it isn't long before gaz is whining for his turn. soap reluctantly pulls off and rests his ring finger on gaz's plump lips, watching the younger man slowly open his mouth and welcome his finger inside. his tongue laps up the wetness, hips bucking up from need as he drinks down everything he can just off soap's finger.

after a minute, soap is pushing gaz off with a chuckle. "alright calm yersel gaz." he says, and gaz rolls his eyes. "you're just the same." he grumbles quietly before turning to you, smiling at how out of it you are, still limp against the couch.

thankfully both men pull your underwear back up and clean you up, but not without leaving messy hickeys all over your neck and shoulders to claim you as theirs.

and no one needs to know, certainly not you, that through this week of you settling in - where they kept their distance so you were comfortable, they weren't actually keeping faithful to that promise. they already managed to slip a few dirty pants out of your bedroom to sniff and huff at while jerking the other off at late hours into the night, as well as spying on you when showering.

but this was just the start of their creeping on their new pretty roommate.

@bjornthebearguy

@iciclesses

@mothymunson

[megalony]

Is It Bad?

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine requested by Anon, I really enjoyed writing this one I hope everyone likes it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefanthefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: Chris has a bad day when he can't keep his routines, but things get worse when he and (Y/n) get in a car crash and the 118 don't know Eddie has a family.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mummy…"

Turning her head, (Y/n) looked back over at Christopher but the smile on her face started to fade when she saw the frown setting into his brows and the slight slope of his lips.

"What's wrong baby?" She turned the trolley round and slowly headed over to him.

Instead of answering, Chris reached out and patted his hand against the bare shelf on his left and with each tap, his effort got stronger until he was slamming his fingers down on the shelf and making a thudding noise that echoed through the shop. (Y/n) let go of the trolley and kneeled down in front of him to see what the problem was but she sucked in a deep breath when she realised what was missing from the shelf.

Cookies.

Pushing up, (Y/n) bounced on her heels and scanned the rest of the shelves in case they had been moved higher up and Chris simply couldn't find the brand he wanted. He liked the thin baked cookies with animal shapes baked into the underside and chocolate on top. They came in a dark purple packet that was hard to miss.

They always bought three packets every Friday to last him the week, he took a few in his pack up to school and always demolished a full pack on a Friday night when they watched Thomas the Tank Engine movie. The same movie every Friday, the same snacks and the same pyjamas and blanket.

"Excuse me, do you know where the animal snaps are?"

The elderly lady in front of (Y/n) leaned back to see where she was pointing before she clicked her tongue and shook her head.

"Sorry, we don't sell those anymore."

"Fuck,"

(Y/n) bit her tongue and turned back round to Chris. How could they not make those anymore? They were specific, they were this store's home brand cookies, that was the whole reason they did their weekly shop at this store every Friday, without fail. Come rain or shine, (Y/n) and Chris were here after he finished school and those cookies were always in the trolley.

"Uh, we'll get some other ones for now and I'll Google and see if anywhere else sells them and we can go somewhere else." She didn't even manage to get her phone out her pocket before Chris shook his head.

He slipped his arms out of his crutches, let them drop to the floor and then flopped down until he was sat on the polished floor with his head against the shelf and his arms around his chest.

Oh dear.

It wasn't as if (Y/n) could buy similar cookies and replace the packaging with the brand Chris was used to. He would taste the difference, he had a specific pallet like (Y/n) did, they could both tell when they didn't have sugar in their coke or when the crisps were the cheap brand or not the specific store brand they were used to.

Chris was a stickler for routine, it kept him content and relaxed, they helped shape and control his life. Fridays were for shopping and cookies and the same movie that he could watch five times over and not be bored of.

He didn't want different cookies or a different snack for a Friday night. He didn't want a similar brand that looked different and tasted tangy with bittersweet chocolate.

"Baby, let's finish the shopping and we can look across town for them," (Y/n) went down on her knees in front of him and reached out to him but she knew they weren't going to get finished here.

"Home."

"Now baby-"

"Home. Home. Home!" Chris reached out for whatever was on the shelf next to him and grabbed a bag of flour from the bottom shelf. It was a bit heavy for him but he moved quicker than (Y/n) anticipated and managed to throw it between his legs and bash his hands down on it like he was playing the drums. A gust of flour spread through the air around them and a powder of white settled down on (Y/n)'s face until she had to close her eyes and cough to get a clear breath.

The flour settled on Chris's glasses and covered his hands before he felt (Y/n) hoist him up by his underarms and lift him from the floor.

She juggled Chris in her left arm despite how heavy he was starting to get, and grabbed both crutches with her free hand and moved back to the trolley. It was usually Eddie who would carry Chris in and out of the car and pick him up if he got upset or had a meltdown. Despite the meltdowns Chris would have, he always stopped immediately if he was comforted, a cuddle or being carried always stopped him.

Especially if it was Eddie holding him.

"Okay baby, we'll go home."

(Y/n) sat him on the trolley handlebar, shoved his crutches in the trolley and whispered a quiet 'sorry' to the lady who was already smiling and shaking her head politely.

He left his legs swinging between them but kept his arms tightly bound around (Y/n)'s neck and his face buried in her chest so she had to lean over the trolley while she pushed it towards the checkout. They barely had half the things on their list. She would have to come back tomorrow and see if Eddie's Abuela would have Chris for an hour. If the shopping wasn't done on a Friday, Chris wouldn't go unless it was to the toy shop.

Her back started to burn and ache when they reached the checkout and Chris still wouldn't let go of her. (Y/n) had to carry him on her hip as long as she could while leaning in the trolley and putting the items on the checkout. When her back and arm started to strain, (Y/n) set Chris down on his feet and let him coil his arms around her waist instead and burrow into her side.

"Home. Is daddy home?"

(Y/n) was relieved Chris had said something a little more than home when they were back outside the car. He was sat back on the trolley, arms around her neck and his face so close to hers she had to kiss his nose to try cheer him up.

"He won't be home yet baby, but when we get back you can ring him and talk to him and Buck, how's that sound?"

"Hm." He let (Y/n) lift him him up and put him in his car seat in the back of the car but he wouldn't unwind his arms from her neck. "No, mummy, no." He started to whine in her ear until he was almost crying and his arms were shaking from how tight he was holding her against his chest.

"Christopher," Her warning tone was enough to make him let go and he let her strap him in.

His head fell against the headrest and he brought his hand up to his mouth so he could bite down on his thumb. There was no trace of his usual bright smile on his lips and he closed his eyes and burrowed into his seat.

It was going to be a long day.

***

"You all know the drill, spread out, anyone who can walk or with minimal injuries, send them to the medics. Anyone you can't free yourself, shout out. Go."

They all knew where they needed to divert to. Eddie and Hen were already getting a woman out of her car on the outskirts of the crash. Chimney was with another medic helping anyone who could freely get out of their vehicles and make their way to assistance. And Bobby was heading down with Buck towards the cars that were more damaged, wedged in the middle of the mess.

Reaching a dark red fiesta, Buck narrowed his eyes and climbed over the bonnet to reach the driver's side. The back of the car was crumpled up against the divider between the motorway and van had crashed into the passenger side and wedged it into a corner.

"Miss? Fire and rescue, can you hear me?"

Buck sucked in a deep breath when he opened the door and it fell off its hinges, crashing down to the floor. He bent down and leaned on the edge of the car but he could see immediately that the driver was unconscious.

Her hair was fanned across her face, her chin was tilted down into her chest and she was slumped to the left. Buck tried to look for injuries but the most pressing one he could see was her right leg. It was broken so badly the bone was sticking out halfway down beneath her knee.

"Mummy!"

A shiver bolted down Evan's spine and he grabbed the roof to steady himself. He hadn't thought to look in the back.

A little boy, roughly seven or eight, was sat in a car seat behind the passenger seat. He had a cut to his brow, he was trembling, his glasses were hanging around his neck on red string and he was biting his thumb like he was about to chomp through it.

"Hey there, my name's Buck I'm a fireman. Can you tell me mummy's name?"

"Mummy… I want mummy." He reached his arm out towards the driver's seat and made a fist and a grabbing motion to try and reach her but the seatbelt was strapped too tight and he couldn't get it off.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Christopher."

"Good lad, stay put and I'm gonna get you and mummy out of here, alright? Are you hurt?"

When Chris shook his head, Buck managed a smile before he leaned over the driver and reached for her bag that was still resting on the passenger seat. He could see her eyes fluttering behind her eyelids, he needed a name and address to give the hospital when they got her transferred and helped out. Someone would have to come and take Christopher when they got to hospital or they would have to call social services for him.

He found her purse quickly and rummaged around for her driver's license but when he read her name, all the blood drained down to his feet and pins and needles coursed through his legs.

Oh God.

"Cap… Cap I need assistance, badly." His hand shook around the radio, he couldn't say anything else lest Eddie heard him through the radio and got panicked. He was busy helping someone with Hen, they couldn't risk panicking him until he had sorted his patient. "Just gonna put this on your neck (Y/n)," Buck whispered quietly and grabbed a neck brace from his bag.

He carefully tilted her head back and clipped the brace around her neck to keep her head in place. He didn't know what kind of spinal or nerve injuries she might have sustained and he didn't want to give her any further pain. It was a good sign that she groaned when he moved her though, she was coming back round.

"Buck, what have you got?" Bobby knelt down near the passenger door but when he noticed the little boy in the back, he quickly moved to jam open the back door.

"Cap, it's uh… her name is (Y/n) Diaz… Eddie never said he was married."

Buck wasn't sure if he was getting the wrong assumption, she could still be Mrs Diaz and be Eddie's sister. Maybe she kept her last name when she got married. Eddie did have three sisters after all. Or she could be a cousin. Eddie never said anything about going home to a family after work, he didn't mention having a child waiting at home for him. Eddie never indulged about a family and Buck told him everything about his life.

"You must be Christopher, I'm Bobby, I work with your dad. Can I check you over and get you out of here?"

Bobby dared to glance his eyes across at Buck whose face fell and his jaw dropped. Eddie really had hid a whole other life from him- from the rest of the team. The only one Eddie told was Bobby because he had to divulge personal information when he had the job interview. He had to tell Bobby that he had a wife and son at home and if his son had a disability, in case he ever had to rush off shift and go to the hospital or take a personal phone call on shift.

"Daddy, I want daddy." Christopher's words were mumbled around his thumb that he wouldn't stop biting.

"I'll take you to your dad, don't worry. Eddie, when you get a second come over to the red Fiesta near the front pile up please."

"On my way."

Bobby reached over and wiggled the seat buckle hard enough to wrench it free and let Chris breathe better. He had a small cut on his chest from where it had pinned into his skin and glued him to his seat. There was a cut on his head and he pointed down to his foot but when Bobby checked, it wasn't broken or fractured. Most likely sprained.

The car seat had saved him from most of the impact.

"Okay, come here." Bobby carefully picked him up and lifted him out of the car but when he turned round, he held his breath.

'Here we go.'

The medic bag in Eddie's hand dropped down to his feet and he stumbled back a pace until he felt Hen's hand on his back and her worried whispers in his ear asking what was wrong. He thought Bobby saying a red fiesta was a bit unnerving; it was the same car as (Y/n)'s.

But the moment his eyes latched onto his captain, he felt like his world had turned upside down.

He knew that mop of brown curls anywhere and those legs that were kicking and swinging like he always did when he got picked up and carried around. That was his little boy.

"Christopher? Oh God, Chris! I'm here bud I'm here!"

Eddie pulled away from Hen and weaved through the cars towards his son who started to scream. His arms started to wave and when Bobby put him down, his voice overtook the sound of the car horns and the raised voices begging for help. All Eddie could hear was his boy screaming his name and waving his arms out towards him.

"Daddy!"

"I'm here, oh bud I've got you." Tears fell down Eddie's face when his arms looped around his son and he lifted him from the floor. He couldn't breathe when Chris snapped his arms so tightly around his neck and burrowed his face into his neck.

He cupped the back of Chris's head, tangling his fingers in his curls as he kissed the side of his head repeatedly.

"Are you alright?"

"Foot hurts… mummy won't wake up. No cookies in shop, you take us home now. Daddy I wanna go home." There was too much rattling around in Chris's head and he couldn't cope. His foot was aching, his mum wouldn't answer him when he cried out for her. They didn't have cookies in the shop so tonight's movie night was now ruined. And then the car started to spin and everyone was crying.

But Eddie was here now. Eddie could take them both home and look after them.

Eddie's hand tangled tighter into Chris's curls and he got closer to the passenger side of the car and peered down. (Y/n) was crying. She was awake now and she was sobbing her heart out. Eddie had to get her out of there, he had to get them both to the hospital and look after them.

"Chris, buddy can you wait here with Bobby for me so I can get mummy out?"

Bobby nodded and held his arms out again but Chris wouldn't have it. His arms stayed tight around Eddie's neck and he started to whimper and cry. He wasn't leaving either of his parents, he was staying right where he was in Eddie's arms.

"You take us home. Now. Home-"

"Buddy I can't take you home, I have to get mummy out she's hurt."

"Home!"

Eddie tipped his head back as if to try and force the tears into the back of his head and his lips pressed into a thin line when Chris started to cry. His hands bashed down on the back of Eddie's chest and shoulders and his legs started to swing and hit out at his legs and knees so much Chris himself cried from the pain it caused in his sprained foot.

"Buddy please-"

"Home-"

"Christopher Diaz!" The moment the name passed through his lips, Chris stopped kicking out and gasped when Eddie dropped down to his knees onto the tarmac.

Huffs, sniffs and bubbling cries passed through Chris's lips but he loosened his arms around Eddie's neck and tilted his head down to burrow his face into Eddie's florescent jacket that smelled of dirt and smoke. A smell he always associated with his dad from this job he'd had for the past eight months.

"I promise, when I get mummy out and safe, I will not let either of you out of my sight. And when mummy is okay, I will take you home and we will sort everything out. I will make it better, I always do. Now you stay with Bobby, understand?"

With a lasting kiss to Chris's temple, Eddie picked him back up and let Bobby take hold of him and set him on his hip. Bobby stood off to the side so Chris could still see his parents but he wasn't close enough to see the damage or get too frightened. The little boy burrowed his head against Bobby's and started to pat his chest rhythmically to calm himself down.

Eddie wasted no time in climbing into the passenger seat but when he looked across at Buck, he could see something flare in his eyes. Maybe he should have told the team- or at least Buck, about his family.

But he didn't like mixing work and personal life and he never thought he would be on scene where his family had been in a car crash.

"Mi amor, it's me, how we doing?"

"Eddie! God, baby… where's Chris?" (Y/n) managed to open her eyes and when the tears fell down her face, she craned her eyes to the left to look at her husband. It was a Godsend to hear his voice. She had no idea who the other man next to her was, the only person on the team she had spoken to before was Bobby. But the other lad next to her seemed very concerned which was sweet.

"He's fine, Cap's got him, just a bad foot that's it." Eddie kissed her temple and reached down to hold her hand. "This is Buck, we're gonna get you out…" Eddie looked over at Buck but when he glanced down at (Y/n)'s leg, Eddie could feel bile rising in his throat.

"(Y/n), I'm going to put a strap around your thigh to restrict the bleeding, then we can get you on a stretcher and out of here, alright?"

"W-what's wrong with my leg? Baby, i-is it bad?"

(Y/n) tried to look at Eddie but she couldn't move her head due to the neck brace she had woken up with. Everything ached and burned but both of her legs felt they were on fire. What was wrong with her leg? Has she broken it or got a deep gash that was bleeding out? It didn't feel like her leg was hanging off or in bad shape.

Moving over, Eddie leaned across (Y/n) with one hand on the seat and the other moved to cup her face so he was in her line of sight. His thumb brushed over her cheek and he managed a smile before he leaned over and gently pecked her lips.

"You've broken it, mi amor but we can get it fixed up. Stay really still so Buck can strap it."

(Y/n) brought her hand up to grab Eddie's wrist and she nodded, keeping her eyes on him when she felt Buck shuffle a small plastic strap beneath her thigh. Her teeth gritted together and she gasped when he pulled it tight and popped the pin in. She had to be bleeding for them to cut off her blood supply.

"I'm gonna round the other side so we can get you out," He kissed her again before he scrambled out of the car. They had to move her now, her leg was in bad shape and Eddie could feel the car overheating. It was a trap ready to blow.

Her hand reached up to rub her temple, her head felt like it was splitting and her back was burning. She tried to push forward to relieve the pain in her back but when she heard Buck mutter no and his hands grabbed her shoulders, she looked down.

"Eddie!" His name screamed from her lips and she pushed back in the chair, moving her hands to grip her thigh like she was going to magically fix it. Another tortured scream flew past her lips before a gurgling cry errupted and she slammed her head against the headrest. "Eddie, ooh fuck, Eddie-"

Her bone was sticking out. Her trouser leg was no longer dark blue, it was a horrid shade of crimson and a sprig of bone was punctured out along with a torn piece of muscle that made (Y/n) almost throw up.

She couldn't lose her leg. Christopher needed her, she had to drive, they had their routines, their walks and their physio they did in the park to keep him up and active. She carried her boy around when he needed her, she couldn't lose her leg. If they saved it, how long would she have to be in a cast? She couldn't look after Chris if she was on crutches too or God forbid, she had to be in a wheelchair. He was going to be petrified enough after this whole ordeal.

Buck moved out the way and took Eddie's place in the passenger seat so Eddie could crouch beside his wife.

his hands moved to cup (Y/n)'s face and he took a very deep, slow breath and managed a smile to try and calm her down. He couldn't have her panicking on him now, they had to get her out.

"Mi amor, shh. You're gonna be fine, we can fix this. I'm gonna spin you round and Buck will get your legs, and we'll lift you out of here. Christopher is waiting for us, come on mi amor you got this." He kissed her head, peppered his lips across her cheek and down her jaw until she nodded in agreement with him.

"Here we go (Y/n), on three."

Buck kneeled up on the chair and leaned over, carefully holding her knees in place while Eddie twisted her round so her back was flush up against his chest. His hands slipped under her arms and he gripped her flesh comfortingly tight and nodded over at Buck.

"One, two, three."

Eddie took her weight on his chest and started shuffling back while Buck climbed over the seat, trailing his hands beneath (Y/n)'s legs to hold her ankles and elevate her legs.

The scream (Y/n) let out made Eddie tip his head back and he held his breath to try and compose himself. He felt her hands reaching back to grip his biceps and ground herself while the boys carried her to the stretcher Hen was waiting with.

"Baby d-don't go… p-please get Chris,"

"I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere." He smothered her temple with a kiss and held her hand until they got near the ambulance Bobby had moved over to. When they were close enough, Eddie reached his free arm out and looped it around Chris's waist and sat him on his hip. "I've got you both, you're safe. I'm here."

"Daddy," Chris wrapped his arms around Eddie's neck when they were in the ambulance and he perched on his dad's lap. He could feel his dad kissing his hair and his mum rubbing her hand up and down his leg, both of them doing their best to keep him calm and stable.

They would be okay.

[iceman-soup]

masc!reader x roach

Fuck's sake, you're thinking, laying in bed, wide awake and somehow still feeling like you have done all day - ready to fall asleep at the first opportunity. And now it's here, the room in darkness aside from the moonlight through the open blinds just the way you like it, and yet your exhausted body refuses to shut off. Typical.

If it weren't for how damn quickly your lips got cracked and dry, you'd be breathing through your mouth. Thankfully, you're not forced to do so quite yet - although the way your stuffy nose is sounding at every inhale, you might be soon, and that would be the equivalent of admitting defeat. So far, you'd been ignoring your earache, headache, every ache you had; you'd put aside how your eyes hurt and your legs and arms were tired from more than just training exercises with the rookies.

Now, though, you couldn't quite dismiss it, and it was catching up to you. Damn fast. Tossing and turning in the too-warm blankets (despite it being 2°C in the barracks, due to the inconveniently-timed broken heating), you let out a frustrated sigh, pulling on your comfy military socks and a hoodie and padding out from your tiny room, shoulders hunched against the chill.

Trodding through the corridors, wishing you'd bothered to put on shoes, you soon found yourself in the mess hall, quiet and dark and empty. You hated how eerie it was at night, but did appreciate the little coffee and tea machines at the sides, however cheap they tasted. Grabbing a chipped mug and pressing the breakfast tea option, you let your tired head fall to your chest, closing your eyes and swaying a little where you stand.

As the tea finishes making itself, you pick up the mug, grateful for its warmth, and sit yourself down at a nearby table, blowing your nose with a scratchy napkin but glad it was there anyway. More mulling over the tea than drinking it, you lay your head down, foggy mind drifting from thought to thought and not noticing the other man enter the mess hall.

A gentle tap on the shoulder jolts you upright, and you realise how you're sitting in almost complete darkness as your eyes adjust to make out the figure of Roach standing in front of you. He's wearing a set of matching pyjamas - one of those soft, chequered ones with a button-up shirt and drawstring trousers tied in a floppy bow - and fluffy socks, and is missing his usual helmet, goggles and gloves. Which you suppose is expected seeing as it's probably early hours of the morning. That being said, he's got on a smaller version of his normal mask, covering only the bottom half of his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, tapping his fingers to his chest then doing a double thumbs-up to sign it. You smile tiredly, trying to be polite and say you're fine but your voice is raspy and painful when you speak. Roach tilts his head slightly at you, then points at the tea and signs for you to drink it. Too ill to argue, you do as he says and watch as he picks up your now-empty mug, putting it to the side apparently for someone else to clean up, then holding his hand out expectantly.

"What're'y' doing?" you mumble, taking his hand and entwining your fingers as you stand up, leaning into his body almost instinctively. He tries to sign something, but with only one hand free and your groggy brain, the message doesn't really get across. You follow him blindly anyway, not really caring so long as you can nab his warmth for as long as possible.

He leads you along the corridors of the barracks to a room that definitely isn't your own, going by the completely different layout and the fact that there's a knocked out Lieutenant in one of the bunks. You don't bother to question it when you're bundled into the bed opposite and followed by Roach, who wraps the seemingly infinite blankets around the both of you and presses a firm kiss to your forehead through his mask, despite the fact you're not at all dating or even close to this being normal.

He doesn't give you time to argue (not that you have the brain power to anyway), instead pushing you to lie down and quickly cuddling into your side, resting his head on your shoulder and tracing absent-minded patterns into your chest. You curl your arms around him, letting your mind catch up.

"Did you just kidnap me to snuggle with?" you process after a moment, glancing down to see him nod. "You share a room with Ghost." Another nod. "And you couldn't've gone the three metres over to his bed?" Roach hesitates; thinks. Then shakes his head stubbornly, legs tangling with yours.

Maybe that scratchy napkin was just brilliant, but you're certainly not feeling as ill and uncomfortable as before when you finally drift off to sleep, the Sergeant in your arms as your own little personal weighted warming blanket.

[princessbrunette]

shy!reader who study medicine and spider!jj always goes there when he's hurt for care 🥺

˚ ༘ 🕷️⋆🩷｡˚

answering the door at 4am, there’s only one person it could be. the blonde listens to you unlatching your door before you’re revealed in all your sleepy glory, rubbing at one eye in the cutest little pyjamas.

he’s pretty banged up this time — a busted lip and his suit is ripped at his rib cage, nothing he couldn’t fix but the gash beneath it was definitely something you were going to have to stitch up. your brows knit together, eyeing him over.

“you should see the other guy, cupcake.” he jokes, despite being in clear pain. you huff out your nose, tugging him inside.

“why are you using the front door? did anyone see you?” you stress, leading him by the hand to your quaint little living room. it wasn’t much, rather shabby if anything — but living in the city wasn’t cheap and it was the best you could do.

“ah, i used the fire escape. this asshole spared me some brain cells when he was kicking my shit in. you really think i’d just walk up in here?” he scoffs, dropping down comfortably on the couch as you frantically make space on the coffee table, spreading out your first aid kit.

“you’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days, jayj.” you pout, beginning to dig for the antiseptic.

“oh but then who will patch me up everytime i get my ass beat?” he tilts his head and his messy blonde hair flops with it, grinning lopsidedly in the dim light of the room, the cut on his lip glistening with it. you hate how your stomach stirs with butterflies for your best friend. your face gets all hot, averting your eyes and you feel him grinning harder — he always did love how bashful you got.

things get quiet when you start to wipe up his rib injury, aside from his dramatic winces and curse words tumbling from his mouth.

“you’re going to wake my neighbours.” you giggle, after a particularly loud ‘fuck’ from him.

“hey, maybe they’ll think you’re gettin’ some.” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows. as you reach for another cotton pad, your mouth moves on autopilot.

“i wish.” you remark, straying from your usual shy ways. his brows instantly jump up with intrigue, and you avoid his eyes, pressing your lips together as you busy yourself. you’d always been shy, since he’d met you — that’s why he’d taken you under his wing. he was dorky where it counted sure, but also boyish and confident in a way a lot of guys your age lacked. it made sense that he was spiderman, the unexpected amounts of unbridled swagger mixed with the scrappy awkwardness you’d expect from your best friend. he was drawn to your shyness because of how different you were, and because he knew deep down there was a freak just waiting for him to break it free.

“you know, if you ever wanna set up a — uh, lil payment plan, if you will — i could show you a real good time, mama.” he lays it on thick, too thick — incase you reject him, and then he can play it off as a joke. the problem is his tone is so teasing, you don’t know if he’s joking. your eyes flicker up to him from your knelt position, all doe-like and sweet in the way that makes him wish his spider suit wasn’t so tight as to not reveal his excitement.

“huh?”

“nah nothing. unless…you really get desperate. can totally step in and help you out. y’know in the…sex department.” he shrugs, tonguing at his lip cut and internally cussing himself out for being such a weirdo.

you blink a couple times, shifting to sit on your feet.

“are you concussed?” you speak after the pause.

“am i conc— no, okay it was a — an offer. but i feel like i kinda made it weird so that’s my bad let’s just pretend that didn’t happen and we can—”

“i wouldn’t mind.” you suddenly but quietly break through his ramble. he blinks a couple of times, lips parted in surprise.

“you wouldn’t mind — like… pretending this didn’t happen? or… the other thing?”

“the other thing.” you’re reduced down to a whisper now, eyes locked. he sits up slowly, leaning forward on the seat with his elbows on his knees so that your faces were close. in the low light, your pupils are all blown out, searching his eyes.

“you mean that?” he smirks, almost like he doesn’t believe you. you swallow and nod, not trusting your voice. something about it being 4am made you braver, and you’d completely forgotten about tending to his injuries. “well alright then. how ‘bout when i’m not bleeding out on your couch? gotta be in top condition when i put the moves on you.”

just like that, you’re brought back to reality — this time with the whisper of a promise that the two of you could be something more. you could be more than a late night emergency patch up.

˚ ༘ 🕷️⋆🩷｡˚

[batchilla]

Chapter three - Jason Returns.

before we get into the fic - creating a taglist for this series let me know if you want to be added.

For reasons of clarity, this chapter is a flashback to two years in the past, the first time Jason returned.

Two years after costing Jason everything, Roman Sionis died with tears in his eyes, piss in his pants, and Jason standing over him, cold, calculating and brutally efficient. The joy of a job well done could come later. As he held his still smoking gun, beholding the smear on the ground that was once one of Gotham's most feared mobsters, a sense of peace washes over him for the first time in two years. Mary is safe now. You are safe now. He can come home. Hold his girls tight. Be a father and a husband again.

Subconsciously, he reaches under his suit, fishing out a necklace of leather cord, a twin set of wedding rings threaded so they sit close to his heart. His fist closes around them, his eyes closed as he allows the tidal wave of joy to hit him, before kicking Roman’s corpse once more just for the sake of it. 

He returns to Wayne manor, informs Bruce, who simply nods, and gasps his shoulder in what almost seems like approval. 

He practically runs upstairs, and showers, before standing wrapped in a towel in front of his wardrobe, feeling ridiculously like he had all those years ago when he’d first met you as himself, so nervous to impress you, at least as much as he had as Robin.

It’s silly. He knows it’s silly. You’d seen him in a onesie, a cheap ‘BatMale’ Halloween costume, all states of dress and undress … yet as he picks out a suit, a tie, and a cologne he recalls you enjoying, he can’t help but feel a clawing need to be impressive. To be so perfect that you forget the last two years and let him come home. He knows that the flowers he picks up on the way to your apartment won’t change that, nor the Red Hood teddy (with a tiny tracking chip sewn in to the bear, to make sure Mary is kept safe) he had lovingly made himself with Alfred’s guidance for little Mary … but they certainly can’t hurt.

He knocks, once, twice, thrice… before there’s the soft padding of tiny feet, and the door opens.

Mary stands in the doorway, five years old now, looking up at him wide eyed, wearing a set of green arrow inspired print flannel pyjamas.

She’s gotten so big. She’s still so small. He can’t help the tear that comes to his eye as he crouches down into a squat to be at her eye level.

“Hey Cherub.” He says, trying not to immediately break down and freak her out.

“Mamas busy right now - but she can come to the door real soon probably…” she mumbles.

She has his dark curls, your eyes, your complexion, his bone structure… and very clearly no idea who he is. 

Jason swallows the sense of utter failure and heart brokenness that feels like it’s clawing at his feet, licking at his calves, his hips, chest, neck, and trying to engulf him. “Well, that's okay… Do you know who I am?” She shakes her head, and in a rare act of mercy from the universe, he is saved from having to work out how to respond to that by you appearing in the hallway behind Mary. “Mary Todd what have I told you about opening the door to stra—- Jason.”

Your voice goes from that of a concerned mother whose child just opened the door to an unknown man while living in Gotham to cracking, strangled and high pitched as you say his name. You look beautiful. You always do to him, but absence does tend to make the heart grow fonder. He feels like his legs may give out as he rises to a standing position, unable to and unwilling to tear his eyes away from your face. “Hey.” He internally kicks himself. Two years he’d dreamt of this moment - and he opens with ‘hey’? ‘Hey’! Fucking hey. “Hello.” You reply, coming to the door, and he feels his hands shake around the bundle of pink carnations he carries, snapping some of the stems of the outer flowers. “It’s done, darling… It's over” he whispers, the words feeling somehow fragile, as the reality of what he has achieved sets in. It was over. They didn’t need to be apart, not any more. Mary tucks herself against your side. His heart swells at the sight, his family. 

She hadn’t known him on sight, but with a face to the name, it clicks into place for Mary. “Daddy?”

Jason feels like he’s been clubbed over the head with a crowbar. Again. Though this time it isn’t painful, the similarity instead rooted in how after that singular instant, nothing else mattered more than what was happening, every thought, memory, sensation tunnelling away till only one thing remained. His baby. “Yeah. Yeah it's me kid.” he replies, smiling down at her, tears coming back in force now, those two syllables seeming to have shifted the very axis of his world. “I got you a little something - I see you like superheroes huh? Well then, you should like this little guy.” Jason passes her the teddy in the red hood costume, which she reluctantly takes. “Red Hood? Doesn’t he do bad stuhhf?” if the sentence wasn’t so heartbreaking, seeming to shatter the very world her words had just tilted, the lisp her missing front teeth caused would have been adorable. Jason looks back to you to see you cringing in … not guilt, embarrassment, pain on his behalf. “Mary has a friend at school who tells her all about the different good guys and bad guys in Gotham” you say, your teeth gritted and enthusiasm forced “it's so helpful.” If nothing else, it was at least a relief to know it hadn’t come from you. 

“Right, I see.” he says, pocketing the bear, his face pink with shame, the same shame he had felt so often when he’d first began the work to earn his place back with the bats. “Green Arrow is my favourite.” she says, her tone jovial, excited to share anything at all with him, near desperate to connect to the man she knew only through the stories of those closest to her. Jason Todd, a near mythological figure in her eyes rather than a father. It felt good, to look down at his baby and see adoration, but it hurts to know he will never, ever deserve it. “He’s… cool.” he forces the words to carry the needed enthusiasm for someone talking to a small child utterly unaware of how what she had just said could tear the justice league apart in a civil war. Jason steps across the threshold, and instinctively he goes to kiss your cheek, an action he hasn’t done in so long, but had done virtually every time he came home. You bend down slightly to pick Mary up, causing him to miss in a way that at least allows him to act as though it hadn’t happened. He hands you the flowers, feeling utterly unmoored, and you smile. He feels his stomach flip, taken back to the other, wonderful times he's seen that look on your face, and in that second he almost feels like he’s soaring through Gotham with you in his arms all those years ago. A lifetime ago. As you lead him into the kitchen, Mary babbling in her excitement to tell him all about her entire collection of green arrow assorted memorabilia - Jason could work on that later, he hoped. God, he hoped there’d be a later. There had to be. You set the flowers in a vase, and he sees a moment of indecision cross your face before you pull him into a hug, and he takes the chance to whisper into the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “He’s dead; it’s over.” “Oh Jay…” you whisper back “It won’t ever be over.”

[sadtonight]

"Smile, my bunny, smile!"

Summary: looks like someone lost a bet and now he has to wear bunny themed clothes and pretend to be a bunny as a punishment!

Characters: Riddle, Vil, Epel, Idia, Lilia;

Warnings: none, reader is gender neutral, just a bit suggestive, implied established romantic relationships;

Side notes: easter has kind of passed but whatever. Bunnies are ALWAYS relevant if you ask me 🐰

Riddle

— it's beyond him how he could even lost that bet. What put Riddle off wasn't the sour taste of defeat, but how thrilled you were at the prospect of him being an "easter bunny". It exuded Ace's mischief, which the boy was unfortunately all too familiar with and which was a harbinger of a disaster;

— and his gut feeling was correct: from Seven-knows-where you handed over the... night wear: white plush pyjamas with middle sized bunny ears and flat tail behind. The shorts barely covered his knees, yet sleeves were so long that even when rolled up, only the tips of his middle fingers were visible. You also gave him few accessories, like a rose red bow, and considered applying make-up, but his natural pink blush that wasn't coming off his face due to his bunnyfication, making him the cutest bunny boy that you have ever layed your eyes on;

— unsurprisingly, Riddle took the whole bunny business very seriously. If he is to be a bunny, even for one day, he's set on acting like one: that's why he learned behaviour patterns and even bunny language beforehand. Poor Ace joked why if he was a rabbit, he wasn't munching on a carrot, earning an hour long lecture about "rabbits" and "making assumptions" until you dragged Riddle away by using embarrassing themed bunny pet names. "My rose I'm in the middle of something- and cease calling me "fluffy ears" already!...*sigh* Alright I'm coming. Ace, I presume you have learnt your lesson, I do hope you won't make same mistake ever again"

— the pocket clock you gave him turned out to be broken!! Initially, Riddle couldn't grasp why would any animal need a clock, broken one for that matter, but know the boy suspects that it's was just a tasteless joke on your part. No wonder he was running late everywhere all day long!

— it wasn't the worst punishment Riddle has ever experienced for losing bets, but he will definitely try his best to never be a bunny again. Being a laughing stock for his dorm wasn't pleasant, and your sudden bursts of affection and photoshoots throughout the day were embarrassing him more than usual. If someone were to ask Riddle, the bunny role was tailored for you better: you circled around him happily, just like bunnies did when they were excited. The thought warmed his heart — he couldn't help but to gently pat your head when you were sitting down on the lounge sofa, admiring the photos you took today. Hmm, you wondered, what was the red haired boy thinking about?

Vil

— ah, to think that Vil would lose such an easy challenge. He really did give it his all, however, it looked like whatever drove you to victory was strong enough to beat the queen himself. It was fair and square, so he had no choice but to face the punishment that you prepared for him;

— whatever the "easter bunny" was, the male prayed it was nothing obscene. If you think he would jump into those skimpy bunny suits and walk around like that, you are dead wrong. Upon listening to your explanation, Vil mentally signed with relief, and to your astonishment agreed to whatever you were going to throw at him;

— he claimed, but when you motioned to the big brown furred bunny's head and the body's suit of the same maner Vil suddenly felt cold breeze on his neck. "My dear potato flower, would you please mind telling me why do you have this...suit? You don't say you have spent money on that, or have you?" his words held certain notes of desperation in them;

— the suit turned out to look quite passable, Vil has seen cuter mascots than this one, but at the very least it didn't look cheap and the fur didn't make him sneeze. One positive thing about this get up was the fact that his face was concealed, so no-one could recognise him unless he spoke. Except for Rook, who threw his arms in surprise upon distinctly hearing Vil's footsteps but meeting tall brown bunny figure instead;

— if bulky head and paws could be worked around with precision and magic, the heat and stuffiness were extremely hard to deal with. At the end of the day, Vil's head was filled with lamentations and grumbling: you clearly wanted him to suffer, since if it hadn't been your intentions, you would have give him plain old bunny ears to wear and be done with it;

— male's body was finally blessed with cool air that enveloped him like a blanket when you unzipped his suit from behind. The whole undressing process was rather "heated", you would joke around, if it wasn't the sharp eyed glare that Vil had, like a dagger pressed to your neck threatening to slide if you voiced the joke out loud;

— however, the "heated" part came from the state in which the man was: hair slicked back to stop it from sticking to his sweaty face, which had pouty expression, and glistering chest rising up and down in a quickened pace. You were having your hopes up by assuming you two would be taking a shower together, yet Vil in a honeyed voice flat out refused your company, as a punishment for his punishment of course.

Epel

— huh?? No way he lost.... and the punishment.... Golly, here Epel was raking up all the manliness he could and now you were telling him to dress and act like a cute bunny. It was so unfair he actually teared up a little;

— but he wasn't going to give up! The most unmanliest thing he could do was to run away, he literally had no choice but to bite the bullet and go through with it. He would show you and everyone else that bunnies and rabbits are not to meek animals and shouldn't be messed around with!!

— shame, so much shame. Scratch everything he was saying before, when he saw what he was supposed to wear for the whole day he wanted to set it on fire. How can he strike fear in anyone while wearing frilly white nightgown and huge frilly hat with a bow and a pair of bunny ears sticking out from the top??

— "Ugh, I can imagine everyone's reaction. I'm doing this only because I've lost to you alright? Next time you will be a cute little animal, not me!". Just like the boy has expected everyone, EVERYONE was laughing and cooing. Vil and Rook gave him stupid smirks all day, his first year friends were rolling on the floor from laughter, other people would point fingers and throw words "cute" and "adorable" at him. He wanted to pick up fights so badly, however, he knew that he could use this situation to his advantage;

— and used it he did. Epel got special treatment from just about everywhere. Discounts in cafeteria and Mystery Shop? Check. People letting him get stuff first? Check. Teacher being more merciful and lax towards him? Pretty much. What Epel had to do was to play coy and move his hands like paws. The power of cuteness is a force to be reckon with. It got to the point where some people offered to carry the boy around in their arms but he had to awkwardly decline;

— currently, you were watching how eagerly lavender haired boy sprung out of the nightgown, while retelling the events that happened to him today. Epel didn't even notice you cutting fresh red apple that you took from the bunch. You brought up the the fruit to his face, surprising the boy, who took the piece from your palm, only to get hit with another wave of elation: the slice was cut just like a rabbit!! It's settled, you were the cutest one today after all!

Idia

— ?! What?? The game definitely glitched, Idia was right at the finish line, but instead the "Player 2 won" announcement popped up. He wasn't going to let that slide, the man literally started to search for any evidence that suggested that it was a glitch and not his defeat. It was his little brother Ortho who denied Idia's proclaims, proving your victory with footages;

—ughhhh, why Ortho couldn't just keep silent for his older brother's sake? Now he had to go through the stupid punishment for losing the stupid bet he-- h-huh?? "A bunny suit"?? Don't tell him you mean "those" bunny suits which beautiful girls wear in anime, manga and cosplay. Idia won't-- he can't-- that's impossible and ridiculous, literally the worst thing he had ever heard in his entire life;

— you had to shake your hands on front of him to stop the flame haired male from going any further. You assured Idia that you had no ill intentions: just the bunny ears and tail. Phew, thankfully his lifestyle made it easier to complete the challenge, else he would cringe and die on the first step out of his room from shame;

— and all of the sudden, Ortho butted in again but this time the robo-boy brought up the fact that Idia had a cosplay of a character who happened to be a bunny. Oh-uh... Great, just great, now Idia had to wear "that" outfit. Admittedly, he himself has forgotten about the impulsive purchase, so now it backfired;

— Idia whined and complained but the white dress with blue elements, a carrot tucked in a pocket, stylish fluffy bunny scarf, white bunny ears and tail, black tights, and two braids with same plastic carrots sticking out of the hair were sitting on him like a glove. You asked him who was the character, and in his usual fashion Idia went on a full blown speech, even unconsciously replicating movements and a catch phrases out of habit. After realising his mistake, the male squealed just like a small wild rabbit, his hair igniting pink;

— Idia fumbled around for a few minutes straight, yet you still couldn't recover from what you have just witnessed. God, he was so adorable yet pathetic simultaneously, you couldn't wrap your head around how a man can be so endearing. You crashed him in the tight hug, promising to take care of the poor bunny, but Idia didn't find the promise to be amusing and instead deeply signed in exhaustion;

— for the rest of the day, both of you just hung out in his room. The only difference being Idia's cosplay, the funny picture of him crouching to grab another chip from the bag on the ground that you took while he wasn't looking. Little did you know, he was going to clear your phone tonight when you would be fast asleep, just after Idia conveniently suggested you to stay for the night.

Lilia

— aww he was so close to winning. Being young certainly has it's fair share of advantages doesn't it. That said, Lilia has been wondering what kind of punishment you got for him. The old fae doubted that you would be able to humiliate or flustered him— it was impossible to faze the person who has been living for centuries already;

— though he sort of predicted that one of the punishments could be connected to dressing in a certain way, what Lilia couldn't anticipate was to be a cute bunny. How delightfully innocent! Despite him supposedly having to act cutesy, you were already as charming as a bunny. Really, the idea sounded so good that the man wanted to include his little family in the picture, but each of them refused for different reasons. What a shame....

— good thing Lilia had his little bat companions that would never refuse him, right? Right. So now it was one big bat wearing oversized black hoodie with two bunny ears sewn on the sides of the hood and round black tail in the back, black slim jeans and black fluffy boots, and a bunch on small bats floating around wearing tiny white bunny ears. Lilia has always possessed a cute appeal but now it was turned up to the maximum!

— truth to be told, the fae had met rabbit beastman and the rabbits before, but couldn't really figure how he ought to act at that moment. First thing first, he forbade himself to fly, opting to run around like the small animal does. Residents of Diasomnia dorm believed they were under some weird spell that day when they saw black flashes dart left and right;

— secondly, all the kisses were transformed into so called "bunny kisses". Whenever you whined that you needed a real kiss and tried to smash your lips together with Lilia's, Lilia would counter this by dodging your advances. "No no, I'm a bunny now remember? And bunnies don't have the same lips like we do. Don't give me that look, of course I love you very much~" he would tease;

— other pranks from Lilia included stealing all vegetables and fruit from fridge, occupying space by spreading the entirety of his body on the surface and making "bunny" noises and scaring poor unknowing Sebek into screaming and Silver, who assumed that some animal was dying somewhere in the building;

— but obviously, most of time Lilia spent with you. It was almost midnight, which meant that you soon would get your good old bat fae back and not his bunny version. So when it has struck 12 on every single clock in the dorm, you finally met Lilia's lips, which were arched in a wide smile.

[persephone411]

Hi darlin

If youre open to it I have a request

Going lingerie shopping with John(I read the John wick lingerie freferences and it was amazing) I’m giving you complete freedom what happens there🎀

I wish you well

First of all, thank you for the request (it’s actually the first one I’ve ever received 😂) I hope you like it, it actually became a lot longer than originally planned but well… I suddenly felt very motivated

Lingerie Shopping with John Wick

-it happend while you were spending a day at a mall, mostly just window shopping. You were walking hand in hand while John also had a bag full of new books for both of you

-Originally when you saw the store, you wanted just to quicky buy some new panties, because John had managed to rip another pair of yours (which also happened to be one of your favourites)

-you were surprised when he followed you into the store, none of your exes would have done that (they would have just stood outside the store while being on their phone, looking awkward)

-but not John. He walked without any shame, handsome and majestic as always behind you.

-“It’s fine John, you can wait outside, it will only take a few minutes”

-“but I wanna come with you. I ripped the panties, I replace them”

-you shake your head in disbelief, but at the same time couldn’t hide your smile as you see your boyfriend, dressed in dark jeans and a black Henley shirt walk through the pink and white store.

-because it was already late, the store was nearly empty, with only two two saleswomen gossiping at the checkout.

-so you took your time looking through all the different designs and cuts.

-as you turn around to search for John you saw him in the section with the delicate, more expensive lingerie.

-He was staring at a gorgeous night blue set with golden details, including a garter belt. You didn’t wanna even know the price of it.

-“found something you like darling ?He asked as he noticed your gaze.

-“still looking, any specific wishes ?” You asked teasingly

-“I love everything you feel confident in”

-after a bit you found a few pairs you liked, now debating if you should get the bras too.

-“Here, try this” John gave you a bunch of cloth hangers, full of lace and satin.

-a bit overwhelmed to took everything and walked towards the changing rooms while John grabbed the bras you were debating if you should get them and followed you.

-As you looked through John’s selection you smirked. Yes, he definitely had preferences.

-All the things he picked out for you were classy and elegant, no bright, corny, colours, no cheap looking designs or fabrics.

-While trying on the bras, You wondered briefly how he knew your exact size.

-But he was John wick, of course he knew everything about his girlfriend, including her bra and panty size.

-After the first bra, John asked if he could come inside the changing room.

-his eyes widened as he saw you (and you wore the most simple set out of all. Matching bra and panties in a nice dark green)

-“you look gorgeous Angel” he whispered as we wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

-you giggled and ushered him out of the changing room so you could try all the other sets he had brought you

-As you tried on all the different sets, you made sure to let him not see all of them

-He loved spoiling you, and you loved surprising him

-In the end you left the changing room with four new bras plus matching panties, a new pyjama set and a bunch of other panties.

-As you walked to the checkout, you didn’t even try to argue with John about splitting the payment, you knew he wouldn’t allow you to pay for them

-As he pulled out his card, your gaze wandered over to the night blue set had had his eyes on earlier. It was truly gorgeous and luckily Johns birthday wasn’t that far away.

-while he paid, chatting with the saleswomen, you quickly ordered the set online, knowing that it would arrive just in time for his birthday.

-,,Let’s go home darling” he whispered In your ear and you smirked as you felt his errection against your butt.

-you nod and take his hand, leading him out of the store.

-As you reach his mustang, he pulled you against him, kissing you softly

-“how about we I get us some nice wine on the way home for later ?”

[slashers-and-rats]

bath time, billy.

billy lenz x gn!reader | as sfw as billy can get |

a/n: this is just bathtime with plot. that’s it. it’s cute fluff stuff.

billy didn’t remember the last time he had properly cleaned himself.

you had asked one day, as you yourself stepped out of the shower and into your bedroom. this had been some time after he had been discovered, but not long enough that he had settled into the routine you’d build. he didn’t even have his own room at this point. you had given him temporary comforts, rest assured. you bought new blankets for his mattress while you worked on getting a room for him ready. you had gone to the thrift store, buying clothes that he could rip and tear into while you slowly persuaded him away from his old, ratty sweater. you were improvising as you went along at this point. who could blame you? you move into a new, suspiciously cheap home in the middle of nowhere canada, and find yourself stuck with a pathetic, manic man living in your attic, who becomes something of a pet the second he receives any actual attention. this wasn’t something that had a set response you could pull out of your back pocket.

but you were trying. billy could see that. he was surprised by your kindness. when he had seeped his way through the floorboards and into your life, he had assumed he’d be back at the hospital within the week. maybe even the day. but no. you adjusted, you accepted, you compromised. he had been so awestruck, so amazed, he didn’t know what to do with himself. suddenly, instead of living for just his own selfish needs, he felt the need to not burden this other person who knew of his existence. now when he called, it was to request things that he knew you’d give him. it changed how he spoke, how he hissed and wheezed through the phone. still dirty, but more realistic to what you could provide. now when he thrashed upstairs, feeling anguish and insanity clawing his brain open, he was hyper aware that just underneath him laid you. your presence, your life, your body and soul… sometimes as he scratched over his chest, hacking up spit and curses, his limbs twitching with every syllable he threw up into the dusty room, he imagined he could reach down through the ceiling and grab you. he imagined his arms stretching through the wood, snatching you up in his claws, and yanking you up into his maw. he was a monster; hungry and starving for your flesh. but he restrained himself, ever aware of how much he could affect you, and how quickly he could ruin such a good set up.

he took care of himself the best he could, trying to live in tandem with you rather than reliant on you. he scrounged up his own food when he could, sharing with claude sometimes, and he cleaned up anything he messed with during his outings into the main house. he cleaned himself, the best he could. sometimes he reached out the attic window and caught snow in his hands, waiting until it melted to wipe over his face and whatever else had gotten dirty. when it rained, he waited until night, and would push his whole head out the window, feeling the water run down his hair and over his face. he’d wash his clothes in the rain as well, and hang it up in his room while he wrapped himself up in the blankets you had given him. he knew there were better ways of doing it all, but he didn’t want to ask for help. he was a man.

you quickly deconstructed this entire worldview. part of that process was the current moment. you sat on your bed, patting your head dry with a towel, already cozy in your pyjamas. you repeated your question yet again, “billy? when was the last time you properly cleaned up?”

billy really didn’t know. he sat there, mulling over the answer, eyes squinting in thought, before shrugging heavy. what counted as properly getting cleaned up? last time it had rained heavily was last week, and he had scrubbed his head as hard as he could, almost until it bled. if you were talking about a shower, he’d be thinking back too far to remember.

you frowned at him, eyebrows furrowing, then let your gaze soften. you couldn’t expect much more from him, could you?

you stood, padding over to the door and gesturing for billy to follow. “c’mon! you’re getting a bath, mister.” you smiled, a shining beacon of comfort in this oddly nerve wracking situation. you didn’t seem at all anxious, but billy was. this was something new. he didn’t like new. he didn’t like much. you, on the other hand; he liked everything about you.

he stared at you, unmoving from his place near your bed. you had seen him naked a few times, sure, but this was different. more intimate, he felt. you were going to be bathing him, like a maid would bathe a king. it felt too holy a ceremony for someone like billy. he was dirty, filled with grout and muck. his mouth alone was a swamp of obscene threats and vile depravity. but, you looked so determined.

he hesitated, but stepped in line behind you, and followed you out of the room and into the hall. he mumbled some things under his breath, beginning to bite at his fingertips out of anxiety. he watched you so closely as you gathered up some soft towels fresh from the dryer, and grabbed some pyjamas out of the clean basket nearby. he trailed close as you led him into the bathroom, placing everything down on a shelf near the counter. you then plucked a new toothbrush, some soaps, some bath bombs, and other bath essentials out of the bathroom cabinets and off the shelves.

billy was still staring when you finished gathering what you needed. “you get out of your clothes, alright? just stick them in the hamper. I’m gonna get the water running. do you think you’d like a hot bath? or something just warm?”

his eyes darted from you, to the hamper, and back to you. “h-hot… i want hot,” he replied, before returning to chewing on his nails. you nodded, turning around and crouching next to the tub, doing as you said you would. as you began running the water, he began to get undressed. he tugged his sweater over his head, then ran his fingertips down his stomach and to his jeans. why was he so nervous? this would be so easy if he was doing this because you were about to please him, but for some reason, knowing all you wanted to do was care for him made him anxious. what if he couldn’t be cared for? what if he did something that ruined this nice thing? what if he was all dirt, and you accidentally washed him down the drain as well?

he shook the thoughts from his head, sliding his jeans and underwear down his legs and stepping out of both. he gathered up the clothes and pushed them into the hamper, lingering for a moment when he touched the clothes you had been wearing that day. he wanted to reach in and bunch the fabric up in his hands. he wanted to push his face into it, breathing in your scent deep, and surrounding his senses with you. your humming pulled him away from these thoughts, and he straightened up.

the room was beginning to grow warm, and smelled of citrus. he wanted to bite at the bubbles in the water. maybe they’d taste good? the thought made his stomach grumble loud, and he mimicked the noise in a garbled way. it made you laugh, which made him smile too.

“guess i know what we’re doing next,” you joked, sitting up a little from your position bent over the tub. “i put the soap in already, as you can see. but, i left some bath bombs by the sink so you could pick one you liked. just grab one and bring it over!”

he nodded, turning to the options presented to him. he scanned over the weird, powdery balls, and grabbed one that smelled like oranges. he rolled it around in his hands as he padded over to the bath, looking down at you. you sat there on your knees right in front of him, his waist right at your eye level, and yet he couldn’t dare speak. usually he’d be so cocky, spewing obscenities at you and letting drool land on your face, but he couldn’t. he bit his tongue. the way you looked up at him, not a dirty thought in your mind. it made him choke up. it’s like you were worshipping him, serving him. his eyes couldn’t focus on you. if they did, he’d be stumbling into a pit of undesirable fantasies.

you reached your hand up, gesturing for him to give you something, and he handed you the bath bomb. “i’ll unwrap it and you can drop it in,” you explained, and peeled the plastic off of the ball. you handed it back, and he dropped it in the water, watching it fizz and colour the liquid around it a bright orange. “okay, get in.”

he nodded, but stayed standing there for a moment. it wasn’t until you gave him a comforting pat on the thigh that he lifted his leg and placed it tentatively in the water. for a moment it burned, and he yelped, but it soon became… nice. it reminded him of you. that gave him all the encouragement he needed, and chasing that familiar feeling, he quickly scrambled into the water and submerged himself to the neck. he breathed out hot, wheezing in a low tone. you reached out a little, worried for a moment, until the long breath turned into a moan. he dipped his head back against the edge of the tub, smiling wide and getting comfortable in the water.

“so, you like it?” you asked, and he nodded immediately. it felt so good. it really did feel like you. it enveloped his entire body, and warmed his cold bones; it smelled so pretty and tickled his nose. it made him feel light and smooth. he was squirming in the water, barely able to sit still with how much enjoyment he was getting. you smiled along with him, glad to see him relaxing, and used this distracted moment to gather up some soapy water on a scrubber.

“gimme your arm,” you instructed, and he lifted the limb closest to you. you began your work. you scrubbed over every inch of skin you could reach, making sure to get every surface smooth and shining.

you started with his arms, scrubbing the dirt and grime from his hands as well. you even pulled out your little nail kit. you got under his finger nails, cutting them down and filing them so he would be inclined not to bite. he had twitched a lot when you did this, finding the feeling very odd. after you had let go, and told him to look at how nice his hands looked, he had been so perplexed. he kept running his fingertips over the edges of his nails, muttering about how he had been declawed.

you moved to his chest then. he leaned more into this, his back arching so he could push into your touch. your sponge ran over his front, and your hands lingered at where the patches of chest hair grew into ivy along his torso. you scrubbed at the hair, making sure it felt smooth under your touch, before moving on. billy was delighted. he felt like he was getting all the attention in the world. he didn’t even complain when you yanked his arms up and scrubbed hard under them, though it did make him shriek a little. it was a new feeling, and he found it tickled his sides when you washed there. it made him snicker and giggle, and he flapped his limbs like wings, and snapped at your hands playfully. you splashed him with water, making him yelp yet again, before you continued on.

you made him turn around after. you worked over his shoulder blades, and it made him shudder. he played with his hands under the water, once again pushing into your touch. you replied by pressing your free hand against his shoulder, holding him in place while you worked on washing the dirt away. all the while, he continued to make sounds of content, sighing and whispering inaudible praises. he couldn’t help it. he loved every second of this. you were taking such good care of him. he felt cherished. he felt like something that was worth being taken care of, and that was very new to him.

you moved down to his legs. he gasped when your scrubber found it’s way to his inner thighs. it made you glance up at him, and he looked away quick, covering his mouth as he muttered out dirty things. billy tried to shut himself up, tried to stop himself from ruining this moment, but you knew he couldn’t help it. you chose to ignore him, for his sake. you continued on, allowing him to spill forth with nasty comments, while you ran your sponge up and down his waist and hips. you stopped at his crotch, finally handing him the reins and asking him if he could clean it himself. he nodded quick, and you turned away.

“I’m just gonna go grab the shampoo. you shouldn’t take that long,” you explained, and stood to do as you said. you went to the shelf near the bathtub as he cleaned himself off, and when you returned he was finished, front and back.

“b-billy’s all clean,” he cooed out, sounding almost proud of himself. “clean billy, squeaky clean. w-warm too, so warm. as warm as your fucking c-cu-“

you cut him off with a hand to his mouth. it wasn’t forceful. it was a soft gesture, something to stop him from doing what he feared most. making this moment anything but wholesome. most things he saw turned dirty and vile, being corrupted by his own mind, but this. for some reason, this felt clean, ironically enough.

billy gazed up at you as you grabbed the shower head from its place, pulling it down and turning the warm water on. “I’m gonna wet your head now,” you stated, and ran the soft stream over his face. he sighed deep, closing his eyes and letting the warmth run over him. you tapped his shoulder as you moved the shower head away from his hair.

“can you hold this while i put the shampoo in?” you asked. he nodded, grabbing it and holding it to his chest while you poured soap on your hand. you then ran it over his hair, before beginning to properly scrub at his scalp. the scratching felt nice. it made him begin mewling, drooling over his front as he got lost in the satisfying feeling. your nails dug lightly into his skull. he felt like if he moved suddenly, your hands would clip through his flesh and mould with his brain. he wouldn’t mind. you’d be attached forever, he thought.

you scrubbed away for a bit, before having him rinse out his own hair. you repeated this cycle, just for good measure, before putting the conditioner in. once this was rinsed out as well, you sat back on your heels.

“okay, all that’s left is to brush your teeth.” you patted your hands down against your thighs, before standing up and snatching something off the counter. you squeezed toothpaste onto the brush, got it wet under the faucet, before sitting back down. “open wide,” you instructed, tapping billy’s jaw with your finger.

he did as told, opening up his mouth and presenting his teeth. you began brushing, using your thumb to keep his chin down while you cleaned. he took this time to stare at you. you were so focused, making sure to get into all the nooks and crannies. you didn’t care he was drooling all over your hand, his tongue occasionally darting over to lick at your digits. you just continued to service him. when you began brushing at his tongue, he gagged. he hacked and sputtered, and you pulled away, huffing.

“yeah, the tongue is always hard.” you gave a sympathetic look, before patting him gently on the cheek. “don’t worry, we’re all done. just spit it out, we’re gonna drain the bath now anyways.” you reached into the water and pulled the plug out of the bottom of the tub. billy watched, and when your arm was out of the water, he spit out the remaining froth in his mouth. he licked over his teeth. they felt so smooth, and his gums tasted like peppermint. he sucked in his lips, tasting it all, while you stood and walked over to the bathroom counter.

“stand up while i grab your towel,” you ordered, and gathered up the item in your hand. billy stood to his full height then, dripping like a dog. he shook himself out like one too, whipping his hair around with a cackle. you couldn’t help but giggle along with him. you proceeded to wrap him in his towel, giving him a separate, smaller one for just his hair. he followed you out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom, passing him his clothes after. he dried himself off quick, pulling on the pyjamas.

“come here, let me brush your hair.” you sat down on your bed, patting the spot in front of you. he trotted over like a lap dog, sitting down in front of you. you made him lean his head back a bit, pulling a brush through his matted hair. he liked the way it stung his scalp, and he forced himself to swallow the moans that dared erupt from his throat. it was so hard to keep it all inside. with every pull of the bristles, he felt a shock through his nerves. when you finally finished, and used the towel to dry out his hair, he relaxed significantly. he hummed, leaning his head back into your touch.

“do you feel clean?” you asked, and he nodded.

“clean billy. squeaky clean,” he sung, making a squeaking sound. it made him giggle. “smells like you too,” he added, raising his arm to his nose and inhaling deeply. “smells like a dessert. you’re a dessert… my sweet treat…” he rasped out, voice deep and rough.

you rested the towel down on his neck, and sighed. for a moment, he just leaned back against you, feeling comfortable and safe. he almost felt normal, like this. he felt like a blank slate, somehow. like he had just been baptized. but the moment was cut short by his stomach roaring again. he laughed, mimicking the noise, and you chuckled along.

“let’s go get you something to eat, big guy.”

[jinkookspencil]

sleepwear that’d drive bts crazy

description: what you’d wear to bed that'd drive the members crazy, sexy lingerie excluded because obviously i’d see most of them loving different forms of lingerie - this is a more domestic version, but still includes sexiness. they’d go crazy the first time they see you like this but it’ll never get old to them…..

author's note: a quick ot7 post in honor of the busan concert but i have wips that are almost done!

namjooon

why do i imagine that namjoon would love girly girly nightgowns on his s/o

get a dainty little nightgown in pink or white that highlights your boobs

and this man is a goner

he’ll go crazy for simple things like his tees too

he’d only like sets if its girly or somehow sexy: like camis paired with short shorts

or better yet a playsuit

but he himself would be surprised at how much he’d love a regular girlie nightgown 

seokjin

seokjin would like two things

nightgowns - feminine but not too girly and frilly like namjoon would like

something simple, cotton, and soft that only very very lightly highlights your curves, with a cute pattern like little hearts or snowflakes 

OR

pyjama sets, of course

ones that resemble his, like button-downs

or those with cropped t-shirt tops and a cute design or funny pun on them

but especially, his pyjamas

yoongi

i think yoongi is the least one to be affected simply by sleepwear

but if anything would have an impact on him

it’s simply underwear

even everyday, simple underwear!

i can see this being a rare thing though, like his s/o would  usually go to bed in sets

but on a rare occasion when yoongis s/o would only wear underwear to bed…. 

he will get so flustered

hoseok

hobi would love those huuuuuge oversized t-shirts / nightgowns that look like huge t-shirts

the type you’d find in primark / target / etc for cheap

with an obnoxiously large or even badly designed design or pattern all over it

or those old, faded tees you'd use for sleeping

with nothing underneath

he doesn’t know why he loves it so much

one day you’ll roll out of bed and just put on biker shorts underneath - for a very quick coffee or grocery run - and the sight will make hobi say “wow”

jimin

absolutely nothing

you’d be used to sleeping naked next to jimin after you both had fun 

but if it’s just a normal, cozy night in and you get into bed naked? just for the sake of sleeping naked?

yeah you won’t sleep

jimin will giggle

“are you going to put something on?” / “why would I? you’ve seen my body, plus it’s hot. goodnight jimin” :) / “what the fuck do you mean ‘goodnight’? get over here.”

taehyung

similar to his kim brothers

taehyung would love girly/feminine pyjama sets and nighties, but unlike the ones namjoon or seokjin would love

tae would love silky, satin, delicate nightgowns - more slips than nightgowns really, and pyjama sets of the same fabrics

with lace at the neckline and at the sleeves 

but the type that’s still made for sleeping rather than lingerie meant to be taken off

complete with matching robe

BUT he’d also love it if you wore long sleeved, button-down pajama set

in either those same silky fabrics or a cozy, thick fleecy fabric or flannel, for him to cozy up to - there’s no in between

get one of those silky, button-down sets embroidered with your initials and tae would go even crazier

jungkook

a classic graphic tee and undies combo would do it for jungkook

It doesn’t matter what type

it could be one of your tees, one of his

your normal undies, women’s boy shorts/boxers, or even a pair of his underwear

It’s just the combo of graphic tee + undies that does it for him

especially in the autumn / winter when you pair that with knee-length socks

as soon as the air turns colder that’s one of the first things jungkook will get excited for

do not expect to sleep when you wear knee-length socks for the first time….

or it’ll be that classic combo but the other way around: just a bra on top, and long pyjama bottoms - with a funky pattern or even a marvel/batman pattern 

if that’s the case, he’ll nuzzle into you the entire night in that outfit, and will playfully unhook your bra when you least expect it

[cosmal]

Christmas James Christmas James Christmas !!!!! Sweet soft Christmas boy James who is always sweaty hot during the summer always red cheeked and sweat on his brow, gets a bit beer drunk by Christmas, loves to spoil you with maybe too many gifts but he can’t help it, he tells you you look so beautiful like 100 times

i took this and RAN im sorry.

james x fem!afab!reader. a little aussie!christmas too.

there’s an atmosphere to a hot xmas that james potter belongs in you don’t get it!!!!!!

you wake up in the morning to your family bustling around the house and he’s all soft and shirtless like merry christmas, lovely :))))

you sit in the loungeroom, he’s dressed now in a pair of pyjamas that your mum had bought your entire family, so obviously he has a pair because everyone loves him. (definitely the peter alexander ones god). you’re all trading presents and you get extremely sappy and overwhelmed because he listens to everything you tell him. everything he’s bought you is thoughtful and lovely. he swells with pride because the look you get on your face when he knows he’s done christmas right. you change into a pretty summer dress before lunch (him in a white button up and a pair of patterned, funky shorts is so very aussie so yes i need) and he can’t stop staring at you. jesus, christ. if we weren’t at your parents, baby. fuck.

he helps around the house the whole morning. something like, oh, don’t worry about that, i’ve got it. serving up ham or setting out cutlery. your mum thinks he’s the best boy in the world. he entertains any younger siblings or cousins because they all love him too!! playing cricket or rugby with them.

he’s all sweaty and hot for most of the day. poor british boy has never felt the aussie sun :(( pretty blue swim trunks you got him for xmas (not because they’re short and tight at all</3) with some sunnies on and a beer in his hand. he’s all hearty, pretty chuckles while you do the christmas crackers (he knows all the answers to the cheap jokes because he’s a dad joke man).

after lunch and dessert he’s a little burnt and a lot giggly, sitting up against your side in the loungeroom. joking around still with your father because he’s a natural. all day you haven’t been able to stop staring at him because you love him a little too much. he’s warm next to you while the afternoon breeze flows through, watching some cheap xmas movie while you have a little nap. jesus christ.

[justforbooks]

Iris Apfel was finally recognised as a great, original fashion stylist in her 80s, when the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum in New York had a sudden gap in its 2005 exhibition schedule. Many curators knew Apfel, who has died aged 102, as a collector stashing away clothes, especially costume jewellery, both couture-high and street-market-low, so the institute asked to borrow some of her thousands of pieces.

When Apfel wore them herself, dozens at a time in ensembles collaged fresh daily, they had zingy pzazz, so she was invited to set up the displays. There was no publicity budget, and her name was modestly known only in the interior decor trade, yet the show, Rara Avis: Selections from the Iris Apfel Collection, became a huge success after visitors promoted it online. It toured other American museums, changing exhibits en route because Apfel wanted her stuff back so she could wear it.

Apfel’s grandfather had been a master tailor in Russia; her father, Samuel Barrel, supplied mirrors to smart decorators; her chic mother, Sadye (nee Asofsky), had a fashion shop. They lived out in rural Astoria, in the Queens borough of New York, where Iris was born.

As a child, her treat was a weekly subway trip to Manhattan to explore its shops, her favourites the junk emporia of Greenwich Village. She was short, plain and, until her teen years, plump, but she had style; and the owner of a Brooklyn department store picked her out of a crowd to tell her so. During the Depression all her family could sew, drape, glue, paint and otherwise create the look of a room, or a person, on a budget of cents – the best of educations.

She studied art history at New York University, then qualified to teach and did so briefly in Wisconsin before fleeing back to New York to work on Women’s Wear Daily. Furniture and fabrics were in short supply during and after the second world war, and Iris began to earn by sourcing antiques and textiles; if she could not find it, she could make or fake it cheaply.

In 1948 she married Carl Apfel, and they became a decorating team: he had the head for business and she the eye. Unable to find cloth appropriate to a period decor, Iris adapted a design from an old piece and had it woven in a friend’s family mill; she and Carl then set up Old World Weavers in 1952, commissioning traditional makers around the globe.

Photographs and home-movie footage from the next four decades showed Apfel, adorned with elan, haggling for one-off items in souks, flea markets and bric-a-brac shops. She is the most decorative sight in each shot, her ensembles put together with complex cadenzas atop an underlying, tailored, structure– they are like jazz – not a statement, but a conversation.

Apfel was the last of those 20th-century fashion exotics who presented themselves as installations. Although she wore a priest’s warm tunic to the White House (President Richard Nixon underheated the place), plus armfuls of cheap African bracelets and thigh-high boots, she was not an exhibitionist like the Marchesa Casati, and, with her vaudevillian comic timing, was far funnier than the imperious Vogue editor Diana Vreeland.

Also, she never ever bought full-price: her many rails and under-the-bed suitcases of couture were sale-price samples, chosen for their cut, fabric, skilled craftwork and colour dazzle (“Colour can raise the dead”). She might wear them over thrift shop pyjamas, or under a Peking Opera costume, with hawsers of necklaces atop. Money could not buy personal style, she said, prettiness withered, beauty could corrode the soul. All that really mattered was “attitude, attitude, attitude”.

Old World Weavers discreetly refurbished the White House under nine presidents, as well as grand hotels and private houses, before the Apfels sold the company in 1992. They retired to a quiet life in their apartment on Park Avenue, New York, its decor an extension of Apfel’s outfits (bad garment choices were cut up for cushions), and in a Palm Beach holiday home where the Christmas decoration collection stayed up all year round, along with cuddly toys and museum-class folk art. Clothes shopping, and the improvisation of an outfit, became Apfel’s daily ritual, as cooking might be to a gourmet.

But after the Met show, and a book, Rare Bird of Fashion (2007), Apfel was back in as much full-time employment as she could manage in her 80s and 90s (she had a hip replacement because she fell after stepping on an Oscar de la Renta gown). She was cover girl of Dazed and Confused, among many other publications, window display artist at Bergdorf Goodman, designer and design consultant – superb on eye-glasses; she wore large, owl-like, frames to stylise her aged face into a witty, unchanging, cartoon.

She took seriously her responsibilities to fashion students on her course at the University of Texas, teaching them about imagination, craft and tangible pleasures in a world of images.

Her career lasted – nothing was ever too late: in 2018, Iris Apfel: Accidental Icon, a book of memoir and sound style advice; in 2019, a contract with the model agency IMG; and last year, a beauty campaign for makeup with Ciaté London. The documentarian Albert Maysles trailed her for Iris (2014), filming this “geriatric starlet” – her term – as she dealt drolly with new high-fashion friends, or laughed at an “Iris” Halloween costume (glasses, a ton of bangles).

She watched as a storage loft of her antique treasures was listed in lots for sale, and as white-gloved assistants from museums that had begged a bequest boxed up her garments; she still had, and wore, the shoes from her wedding. All things, she said, were only on loan in this world, even to collectors. The point was to enjoy them to the full before bidding them good-bye.

Carl died in 2015.

🔔 Iris Barrel Apfel, decorator and fashion stylist, born 29 August 1921; died 1 March 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[wat-the-cur]

Anyway, have some more JayBob headcanons.

. The reason Bob was so withdrawn on the day that Clerks took place, is because he was tired. Jay woke him at fuck-you-o’clock in the morning to help him shave his head.

. Bob has a tiny tattoo of a blue jay on his back, but it’s rarely seen, because Bob hardly ever takes his shirt off in front of people, even lovers. Jay, appropriately, has seen it the more than anyone. He presses a kiss on it when he’s in an especially soft mood.

. Jay has a tattoo of a bobcat on his hip. He considered putting it on his arse cheek, but thought better of it.

. Jay was always stealing Bob’s clothes to wear as pyjamas in the colder months. When Bob lost weight, Jay snagged a few favourite pieces from the donation pile to keep.

. They both snore, but Jay is the most annoying person in the world to sleep with. He snores, he babbles, he chokes on his own drool and he drools a lot. He fidgets every five minutes and spreads out all over the bed like a starfish, as does his hair whether he ties it back, or not. Bob will frequently be woken by a finger in his mouth, or a foot up his arse. Also (based on a real life Jason Mewes thing) he will sit up in his sleep and stay like that for ages. Bob discovered quite early in their friendship, that if he rubbed Jay’s nose, he would lay back down.

. On that note, to help both of them sleep better, they invested in a weighted blanket. This helped a lot with Jay’s restlessness. On the very rare occasion that Bob is away, Jay will curl up under it for comfort.

. They have different sensory needs, as such, their rooms are set up differently. Jay has a whole bunch of sensory things around, in particular visually stimulating things. Lava lamps, bubble tubes, glowing toys, fairy lights and posters. Bob has one, or two visual stims in his room that he loves, but after a day of overwhelming sensations, he needs the dark and the quiet. So, when Bob sleeps in Jay’s room, Jay will switch everything off and just leave one lamp on.

. Once, when they were kids, Bob snuck Jay to a camping trip. Jay never got to go on trips, because his mother could never afford to send him, even though they were never anything grand. Usually, he didn’t care, but he hated Bob being away, and he really liked the idea of camping. He actually hitched to the campsite, where Bob let him in. He hid in the woods until nightfall, then Bob crept out of his little tent to get him. As it turned out, though he refused to admit it out loud, Jay was terrified by the country at night. He had spent more hours than he could count traipsing his home town at night, but this felt completely different. The relief when Bob reached him was overwhelming. When they bundled into Bob’s cheap little kiddie tent, Bob distracted him by having him talk about what they would get up to. They made enough plans for several camping trips. They never got to tick off a single thing, though, because they were caught in the early morning by one of the teachers who came to wake Bob, and found them stuffed into the same sleeping bag. They got driven home that day and given several weeks detention.

. When Bob is sick, Jay will put on Pretty In Pink and turn it up so he can hear it from his bed.

. A particular stim that Bob had as a child, was flapping his coat like bat wings. He would do it for any reason, but particularly if he was very happy. Jay secretly thought it was adorable and would deliberately do amusing, or the occasional kind thing to see Bob flap.

. Jay would get fixated on particular animals throughout his childhood. Even though, from an early age, he denied any use for childish things, he could never hide how hyped he would get if Bob presented him with a seal figure from the aquarium, or a shirt with a cartoon dog on the front.

[parakeet]

Actually howling I bought this pyjama set on the cheap to wear on holiday it’s like a shirt and shorts and I wore it like the whole week and that was like two months ago and I just wore it agin today and my dads like what’s with the grandad shirt. I’m like what. It says grandad in big block letters and under it says est. Long ago. Not a single person mentioned it on holiday and I was sharing a villa with ten people and only half of them were family. I thought it said some university bullshit on it bc it had that kind of lettering. Dead

[sepiapol]

No Pets Allowed

The son of a landlord comes to collect his neighbours' rent. Instead, the two women next door give him a collar that turns him into a catgirl, and strangely enough, he doesn't mind the changes.

Disclaimer! Do not read if you are below the age of 18. All characters depicted in this text are of legal age. The use of the word “girl” does not indicate otherwise. Although this work contains elements of manipulation, dubious consent, mind control and altered consciousness, which would in a regular, real-life setting be immoral and wrong, this work of fiction does not aim to support them. Enjoy!

Adrian was waiting in front of the brown apartment door with dull anticipation. He looked at the empty hall for a moment before ringing the bell a second time, and then immediately regretting it. He felt like the scum of the earth. As though he was a sinful, tax collecting publican. In reality, his dad merely owned two apartments in the building that he rented out to students, and he was sent to collect this month’s rent. It was good passive income for their family, even though Adrian had come to disagree with the whole concept of a landlord existing at all. But it is what it is, and thus Adrian went on to ring the apartment’s bell a third time, after waiting in the front for two whole minutes. Before he did however, the door opened.

In front of him stood a girl he had met three times before, always in the same, awkward context of asking for rent. She had messy honey blonde hair, most likely dyed as the brown roots at the top of her head were visible. She looked at Adrian with all the grace of someone who had just woken up and could barely manage a fake smile. She very clearly did not want him here. Adrian suppressed his guilt by thinking to himself that no reasonable adult would stay asleep up until 2 pm.

“Hello… uh… Carrie!” he said awkwardly, mentally kicking himself for coming off as not remembering her name.

“Hey, Adrian. Come in,” she answered back, her groggy expression shifting into a more relaxed and genuine smile. Maybe she wasn’t pretending to be smiling after all, Adrian thought. He immediately stepped into her apartment.

“Sorry if I woke you up, by the way. I just have to like… get the rent…” he mumbled these last few words as if saying something dirty, and then added, “before I go to my lectures.” He was too flustered to make eye contact and instead chose to look at her living space. It was a rather quirky sight. The furniture was mismatched and seedy in a paradoxically cosy way. Cheap but livable. Plants sat on the windowsill and dresser, along with many books with titles and symbols he didn’t recognize. They did look vaguely occult if the pentacle on one of them were anything to go by. But they also looked cheap. Shoddy paperbacks with chipped corners. Maybe she was the kind of girl who believed in that stuff. He didn’t want to judge.

“It’s okay,” she yawned. “Let me see where I left it. I think I have the money in my bedroom. Just wait here, okay?” she walked away. She was wearing grey pyjama shorts and a black undershirt, an outfit that involved much less leather and belts than when he last saw her, but to be fair to her, she had just woken up. Adrian knew that she had a roommate, but he never had the chance to see her.

He kept looking at the rest of the apartment. The sunlight was bursting through the window in the living room. Pillows sat on the floor where the sun’s rays hit, a peculiar setup that nonetheless looked quite comfortable. And away from the pillow heap, besides the radiator, sat a little bowl on the floor. Did they have a pet in this apartment? His dad didn’t permit pets, which he found unreasonable, but never argued with him on the issue. He figured that he could keep a secret though. It was the least he could do. He already found it weird that he had to step into this girl’s apartment just to collect the rent. He could have just waited by the door. Why did he step in?

From the corner of his eye, Adrian saw Carrie finally appearing out of her bedroom. He turned to look at her. She looked quite pretty, he thought. Her arched eyebrows and thin, long nose gave off an adorable, yet mischievous quality to her face that he found very appealing. She must have been a student. Around his age, perhaps older. He didn’t know what she studied though. He should ask her.

“Here you go!” She gave something to Adrian. It wasn’t money. It was a blue collar with a small bell attached to it. He immediately clasped it around his neck.

Why did he do that?

‘Are you a student here?’ is what Adrian wanted to ask her, but the only sound to come out of his mouth was a soft, high-pitched meow. He tried to speak again, but again, he could only make that same sound. With some alarm building up in him, he tried to tug at the collar he was wearing.

“Oh no, don’t do that,” Carrie said, with a small hint of urgency. Adrian stopped. His fingers felt too clumsy to handle the collar anyway. “I’ve been asking your dad for a while to bring a plumber here, you know. That’s like, the one job he has to do. Take care of the house. You’ll ask him, won’t you? Well… not right now, as you are.” She smiled a devious smile and gestured at Adrian to come closer, which he did without question. Did she get taller?

“Meow,” Adrian said. This time unsure of what he wanted to say. She seemed taller again. He looked at his hands only to see they were slightly smaller. What was happening to him?

“Aaaww! Aren’t you a little kitty?” Carrie purred.

Adrian felt a smile form in his lips when she said that. He felt his concentration slipping. Somehow, it was hard to really mind this bizarre situation he found himself in. Carrie was towering over him now. Something was changing. He was changing. His hair fell down on his face, covering his ears and touching his neck. He felt hot inside as his bone structure was shifting. His hips started to flair out and his ass and thighs filled with fat. His chest seemed to puff up. He touched one of his forming breasts and felt a strange sensation. Something like pain, but not quite. They felt sensitive to the touch.

“Huh, I didn’t know that would happen,” Carrie said, with mild surprise. “Can’t complain though. You look pretty cute now. A cute little kitty catgirl!” Adrian felt elated at Carrie’s praise, he couldn’t hide his smile. He licked his teeth and realised his fangs were sharper. “You see,” Carrie began, “your dad doesn’t allow pets in this house, so we found a workaround. An extraordinary little trinket, this collar, wouldn’t you say?” It really was, Adrian thought.

His breasts felt larger now. Not quite huge, but big enough to not fit in his hands. He cupped one of them and squeezed it, not bothering being decent in front of this girl he just met. He let out a soft gasp as he did, not quite familiar with the new sensation his boobs gave him.

Adrian thought he knew what was going to happen next. His crotch felt hot. The transformation was so pleasurable that he had a boner. But it was as if it was lessening now. His dick was getting smaller, and he was rather excited to see what came next. Could he really be a “he” though? He considered it a bit, running the thought in his increasingly fuzzy mind, and that didn’t feel right at all. She was a “she”! She was turning into a girl. Her dick was almost non-existent now, replaced by a new pussy. She rubbed her thighs together, feeling euphoric at this new absence in her crotch, and also a bit horny.

“So what do you say, kitty? Would you like to be our new pet?” Carrie said, looking down at Adrian with domineering eyes.

“Meow!” she nodded enthusiastically. This felt so good! She would be Carrie’s kitty!

She put a hand on Kitty’s head, startling her at first. But then she started petting her head. It felt so good to be petted by her owner, she started purring and pushing her head against her hand. She could purr now. That was exciting! Her changes hadn’t stopped yet. Her ears were shifting on her head, moving upwards on her skull. For a moment her hearing was muted until it was lost entirely. And then, it came back again, sharper than ever. She wiggled two cat ears on top of her head. She was becoming a kitty!

Her owner squeezed one of her new kitty ears, which felt funny and a little annoying, but then she resumed petting her head, and she was happy again, still purring loudly, a small vibration in her throat. It was so soothing to purr, so pleasant. She wanted to do that forever.

Then something on the back of her waist started changing again. A new appendage, growing from her tailbone. She was growing a tail! Growing larger and sprouting fur, black like her hair. It was quite fluffy too. She must have been a fluffy cat.

“Looks like you’re finished now! Daaww you’re so cute I could just eat you up!” Carrie said excitedly, as she ceased the petting and forcefully hugged the catgirl, nuzzling her head and playing with her new tail. Rude! She was very cute though, that was correct. She was the cutest. “Now what should I name you… hmmm…” she stepped back and started thinking, putting her hand on her chin and putting on a theatrical thinking expression.

Kitty didn’t know what to think. It was a little hard to think now. Her thoughts felt like syrup in her head. And she couldn’t help but look at everything around her. She started wandering around, being bored at this whole ordeal. She wanted to rest. But where would she go? Moving was different now. She moved her tail accordingly. She couldn’t quite control it like a limb, but she could use it to keep her balance.

She had to get rid of her horrid clothes though. They were too big on her now, and they felt scratchy and uncomfortable on her skin. With quick, clumsy movements, she stripped herself utterly nude and discarded her clothes on the floor. She wouldn’t need them now. She felt no sense of shame standing like this. It was completely natural for her.

She decided to rest by the pillows by the window, where the sun’s rays shone with light and warmth. What a wonderful spot! She lay on the warm pillows, content, rested and sheltered by the sun.

And then her owner jumped right beside her! How dare she!? Kitty considered leaving, but then her owner wrapped an arm around her and held her tight, keeping the catgirl in place.

“Where do you think you’re going, you little kitty! You little baby! You little… ah!” Carrie started talking incoherent nonsense in between squeezing the catgirl and kissing her head. “Oh I know! I could give you some cute clothes to wear! Oh you’ll look absolutely delightful!” And with that she took off away from the living room again.

Kitty couldn’t easily follow her owner’s words. Words were weird, fuzzy things now. She couldn’t quite grasp them. But she didn’t care much. She didn’t need words. She only needed pets. And food. And naps. One she was about to take right n-

“Tata!” Carrie exclaimed, holding a short night dress and a pair of thigh high socks. Kitty was unimpressed. “Come on, put them on!” she said expectantly. Kitty looked at her, confused. “Oh right yeah, you’re all kitty-brained now, aren’t you? Uuhh… raise your arms?” she said, grabbing one of Kitty’s arms and raising it above her head.

Kitty thought she got the gist of her owner’s request, but she wasn’t happy about it. She pouted as she raised her other arm. Her owner slipped the night dress on top of her hands and head with a little difficulty, but she managed. She let the garment fall on her, now fully worn. It was actually quite comfortable. Silky and soft. Kitty absent-mindedly started stroking the fabric of her dress.

“Ah! You’re not done! You gotta put on the socks! They’re mandatory!” Carrie said, giggling to herself. “Give me your legs, little kitty! Hehe…”

Kitty looked at her for a few seconds, trying to process what she said, before she recognized what she needed to do, and reluctantly shifted her position to be able to put on the socks. Carrie gave her the pair and the catgirl began donning them with sluggish hands.

It was really hard to put them on though. Touching things was such a task now! As if her fingers weren’t quite cooperating. She gave up, but her owner graciously offered to help her slip the socks up to her thighs. Carrie let the elastic cuff of the sock slap Kitty’s thigh as she finished, startling Kitty, who gave her an angry, pouty glare. She stroked the fabric of the thigh highs. They were quite snug on her legs, and they had a colourful pattern of light blue, pink and white stripes on them, contrasting with the grey night dress. Thank God that was over! Now she could rest.

Carrie sat once again beside Kitty, who started waving her tail around, annoyed. But her owner put one arm around her waist and then gently allowed her head to rest on her lap. Kitty calmed down and started purring again as her owner gently petted head and cheek.

Kitty’s owner was pretty forceful, but she didn’t quite mind, she decided. She liked the warmth of her body too, and started shifting her head to rest easier. Basking in the sunshine, lying on top of soft pillows and her even softer owner. This was nice. Kitty started drifting, losing consciousness. This was a good place to nap for now.

After a while, she heard something click, accompanied by a clunking noise. Footsteps followed after. Kitty didn’t know how long she napped, but she immediately raised her body to check the sound. She was still sitting on the pillows, but away from her owner’s embrace, who was up until that moment gently caressing her back. A new human had entered the house.

“Hey Auggie, welcome back!” her owner said, with a cool smile. The human who had just entered the house, a woman around Carrie’s age, looked with a mix of alarm and complete befuddlement.

“Carrie… what have you done?” she said, sounding slightly tense. Kitty looked at her with suspicion. She was quite tall, and she had curly brown hair. She was dressed in casual clothes. Jeans and a soft pink sweater.

“I got a new pet!” Carrie answered.

“Mhm… yeah. I can see that,” the girl called Auggie answered, deadpan. “Do you mind explaining yourself, Carrie? Like… I dunno… telling me who that is and why she’s wearing my thigh highs!?” she finished, exasperated.

Carrie chuckled. “Oh that’s uuhh… you see. Do you know the landlord’s son? Adrian? Who comes to collect the rent? Well he came by today, and he was really annoying, so I gave him the collar. And now here he is!” She pointed at Kitty, who started feeling uncomfortable.

“Wait… he???” Auggie gasped, pointing at Kitty. “And he just wore it?”

“I mean yeah, that’s what happened with you right? You felt compelled to wear it,” Carrie answered.

“That’s like, so not the same thing! What will we do now?”

“Aw come on, Auggie, relax! You can just perform the forgetting spell once we’re done and he won’t remember a thing!”

Kitty felt a sense of wrongness creeping in as they talked. She couldn’t quite understand it, but it wasn’t like the frustration she felt at her owner’s forceful antics. It went deeper than that.

“That takes an hour to prep! You should have at least told me first.” Auggie started to calm down, but retained a disappointed expression.

“Okay, sorry. Geez. It was kind of a spur of the moment decision honestly? A guy wakes me up asking for money and I thought, what the heck. Let’s do this. Besides, don’t you wanna know what it’s like to have a pet together instead of just taking turns with the collar?” Carrie finished, bringing her index finger on her forehead.

“I mean, yeah, but like… hmm.” She looked at the floor in deep thought. “You know what? Fine. It could be fun I suppose,” Auggie shrugged.

“Why did he turn into a girl though? I thought the collar only made you kitty-brained,” Carrie said. Kitty was now genuinely sad. She wasn’t a he! She was a girl! She was a catgirl! She hugged her legs and looked at the floor, frustrated and angry.

“Oh!” Auggie started, her previously sour mood seeming to lift. “Carrie, I think you just cracked an egg!”

“Wait really?”

“Uh yeah? I mean, you’ve seen how I am when I wear the collar. That has to be the same thing. She’s a girl!” Auggie exclaimed, pointing at Kitty. Kitty raised her head at that. Her mouth open in a hopeful expression. “Are… are you a girl?” Auggie continued, looking straight at the catgirl. Kitty beamed in a kind of joy she couldn’t quite comprehend.

“Bahahaha!” Carrie started laughing uncontrollably at the sight. Auggie rolled her eyes.

“Carrie, don’t laugh! This is nuts. Will we really just remove her memories after this? That seems… more wrong… somehow…”

“Ugh, babe, relax. Okay? We’ll figure it out later. For now let’s like, treat her. Make her feel loved, you know?” Carrie said, a devious tinge in her voice.

Auggie stepped in front of Kitty and petted her below her chin. Kitty calmed down and purred at her touch.

“Aw good girl. You like that don’t you?” Auggie said, smiling at the catgirl.

She did like it! Maybe this Auggie girl wasn’t so bad after all. She figured she could have two owners. As much as her simplified mind could ‘figure’ things. But no matter how simple, she knew what she was. She was a girl. And she was a pet. That’s all that mattered.

“Okay let me get changed and I’ll come back, okay?” Auggie said, withdrawing her hand from Kitty’s face. Kitty swung her hand at Auggie’s way as she passed by, slapping her foreleg. Auggie laughed heartily at the gesture.

“Aaaww she’s a feisty one!” Carrie said, scritching Kitty’s back. Good! More scritches. “What should we name her though?” she called to Auggie.

“I don’t know!” Auggie called back from her bedroom. “Maybe we should ask her later?”

Silly Auggie. Cats didn’t need names. She was just Kitty.

“Eh.” Carrie kept on petting Kitty, but she was getting tired of all the constant scritching and rubbing. It felt amazing, euphoric even, but she wanted more. Kitty wanted to use her new body to its fullest capacity. So she climbed on top of Carrie’s lap and started kissing her neck. “Oh! You’re one horny little pet, aren’t you?”

She was! Such a horny little pet catgirl. She started rubbing her crotch on her owner’s leg, desperate to get some release.

“Well in that case…” Carrie flashed a predatory smile and pushed Kitty away, landing her on her back on top of the pillows. “I’ll show you how loving an owner I can be, my dear pet!” she cooed, right on top of Kitty. And with her right hand, she started caressing her pet’s thigh, making the helpless catgirl gasp.

Yes! She wanted this so much! Her owner’s hand went further and further up, and then, she plunged two of her fingers inside her needy pussy. Kitty let out an intense mewl at this novel kind of pleasure. No matter Kitty’s objections, her owner knew exactly how to use her. She knew exactly how to make her meow and scream in pleasure.

Auggie stepped from her bedroom, out of her shoes and with more casual clothes, right in the middle of this sexy petting session.

“Oh God that’s… that’s so hot…” Auggie blushed deeply and ran towards her new pet. Kitty looked at her expectantly, and a new, wanting and cunning kind of smile appeared on Auggie’s face. She grabbed the pet’s new perky and round boobs from under her dress and massaged them with passion.

Kitty screamed with delight. She was being used by her two owners. She was in true bliss. What little thoughts could pass through her simple kitty mind were now gone, replaced by the intense, visceral experience of pure pleasure. Carrie kept playing with her pussy and clit, sending her even more over the edge. And then, just as she was about to finally find release, Carrie stopped and let out a small evil giggle.

The pet couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted to finish. She wanted to feel how much she changed. From some boring guy she could barely remember being, to a sexy pet catgirl. An animal to be used and loved by her mistresses. Kitty pounced on Auggie, sending her on her back.

Auggie gasped a little as the pet climbed on top of her, grinding her needy sex on top of Auggie’s own. Auggie didn’t waste time. She pulled her pants to reveal her erect dick, and grabbed her pet with two hands by her waist, and straddled her on top. Kitty moaned loudly and greedily. A hungry expression on her face.

She was being filled by her mistress. It was so good to be petted and loved and fucked, that happy tears left her eyes. Auggie kept guiding the catgirl’s hips on her dick and thrust as she could, lying on her back with Kitty on top.

Kitty meowed and moaned with increasing intensity. Stimulated and growing hotter and hotter. She felt light headed. Fucked silly by her owner. And then, her owner moaned and groaned with pleasure and came inside her, filling her pussy with her hot cum, and sending her over the edge. Kitty cried out a piercing, bestial scream as she orgasmed. Her whole body was so overtaken by pleasure that she couldn’t stop shaking. She let her body fall on top of Auggie, her head resting on her owner’s shoulder, gasping and breathing heavily from the exhaustion. This was the best time of her life.

“Ah… ah” Auggie was gasping along with her pet. “I… I think the whole building must have heard us…”

“Hmmm…” Carrie responded with a moan, her own hand deep in her pussy, aroused from the spectacle. “Good!” She giggled with satisfaction.

Auggie let the content and satisfied catgirl lie on top of her. She started purring again, as she stroked her cheek. Kitty could barely nuzzle against it.

“Can… can we do this again?” Kitty finally said, surprised that words had found her.

“Oh no she’s fully here now!” Auggie was startled, but didn’t disturb the tired catgirl lying on top of her. Carrie only smiled and looked with greedy anticipation.

***

The "publican" stood in front of the brown apartment door, ringing the bell - only once this time. Not to collect the month's rent, as that duty had already been fulfilled. It was for a more frivolous reason that was nonetheless equally profound. The door opened.

"Oh hello there! Welcome back," Carrie cooed from inside the apartment, wearing some of her black, metal studded clothes and paraphernalia that she was more often associated with.

"Hey!..." the figure opposite to her answered back, flustered.

"So uuuhh... did you figure out what name you want us to call you now?"

"Uhm, Kat? Maybe? If you don't mind. I'm still figuring this out, so..." Kat said, not looking at Carrie directly.

"Oh come on, that's so cliché!" called a voice from deep within the apartment. It must have been Auggie's. Carrie giggled heartily.

"As you wish, kitty Kat!" Carrie smiled deviously. "Come iiin..."

And Kat did exactly that. She had a lot to figure out, but she at least knew that she was a girl. And soon she was going to be Carrie and Auggie's pet again. For now, that's all that mattered.

[druidx]

I managed to hold myself to doing the 1st of the writing exercises from this post.

Tagging op of that post @davycoquette as requested :) & @aquadestinyswriting as per

Paint a picture of a character by describing their bedroom while they’re not in it.

Dt. O'Toreguarde's bedroom is shockingly spartan. If it weren't for the half-full laundry bin next to the narrow and free-standing wardrobe – looking itself like something from the 30s – and the smattering of framed photos on the dresser, you'd be mistaken for thinking it was a room-to-let.

The room smells faintly of nicotine and chemical flowers – as if the occupant is trying to cover up the smells left by a past tenant. It's dark too, even at noon; partly the sun is crowded out by the taller building opposite, but mostly it's the quarter-drawn blinds. Maybe it's to prevent prying, maybe the occupant was just in a rush that morning.

And yet, the bed sheets and red comforter are neatly drawn back, the button-up pyjamas folded on the pillow, and the basin and ewer emptied. A hand towel is spread over the back of the utilitarian wooden chair next to the basin frame, the toiletries and detergents under the basin lined up like regimented soldiers.

On the nightstand – varnished dark wood in the same style as the wardrobe – sits a pulp paperback, the bookmark also only a quarter in, a glass of water on a doily, and a table lamp a decade out of vogue. The top drawer holds over-the-counter painkillers, tissues and a bowie knife; the lower cupboard, a white tin with a green cross.

If you turned on the rough, seaweed-green Berber carpet and looked behind, you'd note the sideboard dresser completes the set – matching wardrobe and nightstand. Inside, the uniform monochrome clothes are rolled for easy access. On the shelves sit a dozen books, majoritively textbooks on law and conflict resolution. Scattered across the dresser are framed photos of smiling people, in groups and portraits. Some wear police uniforms – colleagues then; the others, presumably, are family. Other odds are present – an opalescent pebble, a trio of bone dice, a small but expensive-looking carriage clock – but the dresser is otherwise sparse of knickknacks.

And finally, a peak in the wardrobe shows you a string of suits in dark blue and black paired with button-up shirts in white or robin's egg. Two pairs of sensible shoes – a third presumably on the owner's feet – and a stack of cheap hankies would complete the ensemble. The only concession to colour is a russet dress in a Bohemian style. If you'd care to push aside the hankies and grope around on the slim top shelf, you'd find a lockbox which rattles like bullets in a tin can.