#he obviously hasn't left for a while

[getvalentined]

I was gushing about Genesis' design the other day and decided to transplant the whole rant over here because I love how Genesis' whole design makes no pretense about him doing things specifically to make himself look taller, but also more delicate—because he has an aesthetic that he's determined to maintain, but it's a ruse. The whole thing is a ruse. Genesis knows what he looks like, particularly what he looks like compared to the people around him, and he works with it in such a fantastic way it makes me feral.

It's so obvious from an artistic and fashion design perspective that he's trying to give himself a more masculine shape while also trying to look unintimidating in that shape, like he's petite when he's absolutely not—which makes perfect sense when paired with the fact that he's a mage and when he uses a sword it's in very close-quarters combat compared to his peers.

Genesis is trying to look like the least intimidating of the Firsts because it means opponents are more likely to underestimate him and let him get too close, only to realize that he's like 6'3" and can throw a freight truck.

Take the cut of his coat, the way he wears his belt a little low—like he's trying to look taller, but also like he wants you to think that his legs maybe aren't quite that long, like his waist is wider than it is, but his shoulders are narrower. Like his frame is more average, like he lacks the physical capacity to do too much damage compared to his similarly ranked colleagues.

His clothing makes him look less svelte; he doesn't want people to catch that he can be on you in four steps because he's long-legged and limber as fuck. His pauldrons are set low on his jacket, as if he wants them to look slightly too big. Genesis' shoulders and chest are actually pretty broad for his frame, his legs and arms are long and well toned, but he dresses and carries himself in a way that makes it difficult to tell unless you're really looking.

Most opponents won't parse Genesis' build correctly, they won't realize that he's got some beastly upper body strength until he's on them far too quickly and he's grabbed them by the face—and since when were his arms so long?—and flung them across the battlefield.

At a distance, or alongside Sephiroth or Angeal, Genesis doesn't just look delicate, he looks fragile. He looks like you can snap him in half. On his own, though, up close? You're fucked.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Alistair: So I'm not going with you, I see. Any particular reason? Tabris: I'm not going to risk you getting hurt, Alistair. Alistair: And you think I want you going in there and sacrificing yourself? You think I want you to die!? But there's no use arguing with you, is there? We don't have time... and you are a stubborn, stubborn woman. Tabris: You would do something foolish. Alistair: Maybe… I guess we'll never know now, will we? I guess this is the last chance we'll get… before this is finished, one way or another. Be careful in there. Tabris: I love you, Alistair. Alistair:

Guess who made the ultimate sacrifice...?

Me. It was me.

I made the ultimate sacrifice.

The achievement wasn't worth it.

[midnightcrw]

Provocative

Pairing: Alastor x fem!reader

Summary: Lucifer visits the Hazbin Hotel because his daughter called him, but there he sees a good friend he hasn't seen in a long time.

Warnings: Swearing, even though it's only one swear word (this is fluff, by the way)

a/n: Since you all wanted a second part, I finally wrote one, although I really wasn't sure how to continue. I tried my best, and unfortunately, I'm not that happy with it, but hopefully, you all will like it somehow / Part 1

A headache threatened to make itself known as you looked unimpressed as the King of Hell shook your shoulders, causing you to rock back and forth.

"Did your parents drop you on your head when you were a kid?" Lucifer asked in a desperate tone, not wanting to believe that you and Alastor were a thing (obviously still not knowing that you're married to each other).

"Maybe," you said nonchalantly, ready to push him away if he didn't stop shaking you.

"But-" that's it, you thought as you pushed Lucifer's hands away from your shoulders, surprising him by that before cupping his face in your hand, squeezing his cheeks tightly as he stared at you with wide eyes.

"Listen to me," you began in a stern tone, glaring at him, making him visibly swallow. "You're going to let your daughter show you around, or I'm going to skin you infront of everyone."

With that, you let go of his face as you dusted off your hands, as if you had touched something dirty.

The rest of the residents could only stare with shocked expressions. Fortunately, they hadn't heard what you had said, but from what they had seen, it was definitely intense, as no one would dare do such a thing to the Ruler of Hell.

Though Alastor didn't look shocked, he seemed to be fuming as one of his eyes twitched while the crazed grin never left his face.

"Okay... Anyway, Dad. Look at this lovely parlor where people can get to know each other and share secrets and stories and intimate feelings!" The excitement was vivid in Charlie's tone as she had her beautiful smile on her face.

She was already trying to move on, wanting to make her point to her dad and you appreciated the fact that you weren't in the spotlight anymore.

Thinking that you were finally getting some peace, you sighed in relief before you felt Alastor's head on top of yours.

"Tell me, darling. How long have you known this little pesky, but surely powerful man?" The 'powerful' was emphasized, as the static seemed to get even more grating with his snippy tone.

Alastor was not the jealous type, you knew that. But he always had his moments, loving to meddle in other people's affairs while hiding his own.

Huffing, you turned around and looked up at him, "While you were gone for seven years, I might have befriended him."

The anger was evident in your voice as you did not explain further. Not only had your husband left you for a few years out of nowhere, but now he was suddenly trying to pry information out of you.

Alastor just laughed at your answer and shook his head while your hands clenched into fists.

And before you could curse him, he suddenly moved much closer, almost pressing his forehead against yours. "Surely for nothing of lustful nature," he whispered sharply, sounding almost disgusted as he uttered the word 'lustful'.

"Maybe I should have," two could play this game, and you certainly weren't going to back down now, since he loved to provoke you so much.

Hearing your reply, the static increased as his antlers grew before he suddenly disappeared in front of your eyes, now standing further away from you.

"Charlie has a very unique vision," your husband began as he approached Charlie, speaking very animatedly, "I am happy to fulfill her bizarre requests," he said, placing his hand on the blonde's shoulder as she thanked him.

Of course, seeing that didn't make Lucifer happy at all, since he was already planning to kill Alastor when he got the chance.

And to be honest, at this point, you couldn't care less, almost ready to encourage Lucifer.

"Quite an impressive young lady. We're all very proud of her." The man dressed in red knew what he was doing as he pulled Charlie closer.

Somehow, even though he was angry, the short man managed to steer the conversation to another topic, such as getting introduced to the rest of the people in the hotel.

With a smile on her face, Charlie pulled Vaggie near her, "This is Vaggie. She's my girlfriend."

You had probably never seen Lucifer so relieved as a grin made its way across his face, "Oh my golly, you like girls?"

You truly wanted to bang your head against something, knowing that he was going to embarrass himself.

"Yes, so do I. We have so much in common. You put her there, Maggie," he said as he pulled Vaggie into a bone crushing hug, making her a bit uncomfortable with his enthusiasm.

"He didn't even get the name right..." you muttered, rubbing your temple in frustration.

And of course, it wouldn't be Alastor if he didn't continue to annoy you further, "Everything all right, my sweet?"

"Would be much better without you here," you said, avoiding eye contact, not wanting to deal with him right now.

"Is that so?" Alastor whispered in your ear with a toothy grin on his face, looking pleased with himself as you flinched at the sudden closeness.

All you could do was exhale sharply as you stepped away from him, even though he teleported right back into your personal space.

Ignoring him, you just watched the rest of the residents.

"Hello, I clean." Niffty giggled to herself as she grabbed hold of Lucifer's coat, causing him to stare at her with an uncertain expression on his face.

"Don't you dare throw the chandelier to the floor," you whispered, already one step ahead of him.

"Oh, and how well you know me," Alastor said in a delighted voice, and now you wished you hadn't told him that, because it seemed that another plan was brewing in that big head of his.

Without warning, your husband suddenly put an arm around your waist as he walked you closer to the rest of the people.

"You must be proud of Charlie since she has already found people who want to redeem themselves," the grin didn't leave his face as usual as the attention was once again back on you and Alastor.

Lucifer's eye twitched as he looked at you, not liking the fact that the deer was holding his friend so close.

"Sure I am," the short man said as he pulled you out of the radio demon's grip, causing the static to be heard.

"Doesn't seem like it," Alastor said quickly, jumping to the next topic before Lucifer could interject in annoyance, "I even remember the exact moment Charlie needed help, and of course, being the perfect gentleman, I couldn't help but lend a hand." He chuckled to himself as he suddenly grabbed your hand, wanting to pull you to him, but Lucifer didn't let go of your hand, but nonetheless he continued to talk anyway.

"You could almost call me dad," Alastor said with a sinister grin as both men continued to pull on your hand.

"Surely no one would call you that," the King of Hell said with contempt in his voice as he glared at your husband and suddenly turned his eyes to you, "I promise you, you can do better than this. Have you seen his haircut?"

"I see it every day," you muttered.

Charlie didn't seem to be in a better mood than you, as she let herself fall onto the sofa while Vaggie patted her head. And somehow Angel Dust was eating popcorn, even holding the popcorn bag in front of the Princess of Hell as she started to eat some of it while they all watched the three of you.

"In fact, she sees it every day and every night," Alastor added with a crazed look in his eyes as he started to get annoyed.

The look on Lucifer's face was hilarious. One would really like to see his reaction if he knew that Alastor wasn't interested in anything sexual, but just loved to anger people, especially those who didn't pay attention to him.

"Nobody wants to see that atrocity!"

"Well, she loves it!"

"She doesn't!"

And before things could get worse, Husk suddenly said, "Mimzy is here."

With that, your eyes widened as you looked towards the entrance while the men stopped pulling on your hands.

Oh and how you hated her.

"Surely you all missed me!" The voice of the beautiful little woman was heard, clearly directed at your husband.

Fuck no, you thought.

Taglist

@nonetheartist

@anuttellaa

@explosionkatsu

@randomuser-89

@nightlydream

@itsmskeisha

@l0ca1ax010t1

[gglitch1dd]

End of the Road

Dilf Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

@stoned-anime-babe The way I thought of this a few days ago and then you brought this idea again. Thank you for the submission lovey<3

Context: You and your husband dance around in the kitchen and your boys can't help but smile.

You wiped the kitchen counter as soft oldies played in the background. In the evenings, late at night when the younger sprouts have gone to bed and the older ones have retreated to their bedrooms, you and your husband would clean up downstairs ensuring that your house would be perfect the next morning.

Obviously disinfecting and cleaning was also a way to ensure that your youngest son, Koda, would stay healthy and safe in his own home, but it was also a mindless task the both of you could enjoy.

You hummed to yourself, swaying your hips to the old song. You ignored the footsteps of your husband trying to be silent. He walked up behind you, making you smile. You paused wiping the marble counter as you felt your large husband lean against you. He put his head down on your shoulder, kissing your neck with a smile. His large hands moved to rest on your hips. "You look so beautiful."

You couldn't help but smile as you chuckled. You leaned back against his broad big frame. It always felt like he was perfectly built to hold you and to keep you close. You always felt so totally consumed by him but in the best of ways. "Izuku, I'm a mess." You told him. "I'm pretty sure this shirt hasn't been washed in a week and I haven't taken a shower today and I'm pretty sure one of Shoyo's markers managed to scrape my sweatp-"

"You're so beautiful." He insisted as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, taking a breath. He tightened his grip on you happily swaying to the music with you. "I love you just like this." He spoke up again. You turned your head to look up at him with wide eyes.

Izuku looked down at you with an expression you had seen time and time again before but one that you couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly consumed by. His green eyes, beautiful and bright just for you, were consumed by his pupils as he looked down at you. A gentle smile was on his lips.

You felt heat go up your neck as you looked away from him embarrassed. You felt like you were twenty years younger, blushing at his charming words and such unabashed glances and faces.

You felt his hand gently move to your face, angling you to look back up at him again. His eyes searched your face almost as if he wanted to dive into your very being and stay there. You were frozen staring up at him, the cloth you were holding long gone as you looked up at him, waiting on his every word.

"Dear God..." He let out softly before a soft disbelieving scoff left his mouth. "I am so lucky to have you." He gently took your smaller hand in his own, kissing the palm of your hand as he gently turned you into his arms, making you chest to chest.

You stared up at him before smiling gently. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you leaned against his chest, swaying to the music. You felt his arm wrap around you while he joined your hands together. He rested his head ontop of your own as the both of you carefully swayed to the music.

It was intimate moments like this that made you fall deeper and deeper in love with your husband. He held your heart in his hands and you didn't know how he managed to do it. Because here you were, teary eyed as you realised that you were with this wonderful man, Midoriya Izuku.

How he'd given you everything you could have ever wanted in life. He had given you his heart, five wonderful boys, a life of luxury and never having to worry about a cent, this wonderful house, a life focusing on whatever you wanted.

You knew that you were immensely lucky. So wonderfully lucky.

You opened your eyes as you looked up at your husband, who turned to look down at you. That smile on his face that told you that he had no other thoughts in his head other than ones of you. You couldn't help but move your hand to cup his face as you stared up at him. You pulled him down to put his forehead against yours as he held you, dancing in your kitchen together.

To the end of the road, still i can't let go. It's unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you.

"Kane do you think-" Toshinori stopped talking as he stopped in his tracks on the staircase. Him and Kane had decided to grab some snacks from downstairs.

Kane looked at the other teenager who had stopped in his tracks. His gaze softened as a gentle smile went to his face. Kane raised an eyebrow before looking in the direction that he was looking in. There in the kitchen, holding onto each other and swaying to the music was you and Izuku. Kane's eyes widened. He wasn't entirely sure what to call what he was seeing but it was soemthing he had rarely seen in his life.

Kane took out his phone and recorded the scene, both boys decided to mutually stay silent and enjoy the moment. Toshinori smiled at the sight of his parents together. If there was one thing he was grateful for, it was the love that you two had for each other. Despite all his complaining of the both of you being disgustingly in love, Toshinori wouldn't have changed it for a thing.

Kane had barely seen what love was supposed to look like, but he knew, watching you both right now...

It was right in front of him.

Newest post by TheMidoriyas: Till the end of the road💚 #fyp #love #parentsofTikTok #ProHeroDeku #TheMidoriyas 2 Mill Likes. slipperygeese: The way he looks at her😫 DekuFan900: This dude has no idea how lucky he is to see his parents like this. PHPINKY!!✅: THERE'S MY MR AND MRS NUMBER ONE!!

[kalims]

Can I please request any Twst character seeing their crush kiss their tsum?

⊹ kissing their tsum tsum

premise. maybe leaving their tsum somewhere to come back to wasn't such a good idea anymore when it's clearly taking the attention of the person they like.

parts. floyd (i somehow forgot him help)

content. gender neutral reader

characters. riddle, leona, jack, epel, sebek

cw. written by someone who hasn't played through the event and does not know shit lol

note. are they just plushies??? or do they have a consciousness of their own??? I am so confused but wow I wrote somehow

I just slapped whoever had cards on the event onto here 😭 caters part is my favorite ugh

riddle rosehearts

left his tsum in it's custom made velvet chair to grab another jar of sugar since riddle didn't know it ran out.

and yes, he had one made for it. smaller version of his own and stuff, it literally has better privileges than any other resident of the dorm.

^ he totally drinks tea with it and believes that even if it isn't actually alive it's him and if this tsum didn't drink tea at the exact time for a specific rule he still feels like he broke one.

he even pours a cup for it hekasbkqkas.

I mean the liquid doesn't get drank by anyone obviously but riddle still does it.

so as he's walking back, opening the chair to take a peek to see if it's enough cubes once he closes it, and looks up he almost just trips on air and drops the glass jar.

he fumbles with the object for a second, blinking rapidly at the sight of you snuggling into his tsum then giving it little kisses every now and then, did he hear you calling it cute—?

"wha...what in the world are you doing?!"

"it's so adorable.." you mumble, hearing the boy but it just goes in one ear and out the other.

good lord he doesn't know whether he'd like to melt into a puddle, combust from his red face, or be that tsum.

should he be jealous? no. but is he? yeah. even if he's denying it severely.

next session the tsum was left with no tea and was promptly caged in his room in hopes that you would not do all that to his tsum, and to his real self instead.

leona kingscholar

I honestly don't think he would really care for it??

I mean wow. it looks like him. cool. whatever. what's he supposed to do with it? it's just a plush no need to work up so much for it.

not that doing effort for it benefits him in anyone but he just keeps it on his bed since he didn't really wanna go anywhere else and his bed just happened to be near so...

*yoink*

no one tells him this, especially not ruggie but he actually sleeps with it. an arm over it sometimes and usually coddling it in his arms.

trust me ruggie has proof.

100 madol for 5 seconds fr

well as usual it's in his bed just there in it's habitat just like the real leona kingscholar.

even someone like him takes the time to actually go to the bathroom so while he's gone, and when he's on his way back he immediately knows you're there.

that's a scent he can recognize anywhere (well duh. bro spent so long tryna engrave it) and if he can smell you so close to his destination then obviously you're in his room.

also he left the door slightly closed and it's more open than before so that's that.

just like anyone else he completely stops before he could open his mouth and is actually flabbergasted and flustered?

why are you kissing his tsum?? "that's kinda creepy ain't it?" he drawls but his tucked ears says I wanna be it so bad.

"guess i'm creepy then."

you say simply and go back to coddling the damn thing. leona scowls at the relevation. there's no way a small, lame version of him is gonna win you like that!

move over so you can enjoy the real thing >:(

jack howl

mr. everyday is leg, arm, everything day guy.

I believe he's more of an outdoors dude, a very sweet outdoors dude.

the kind of sweet outdoors dude that would buy a miniature plushie version of weights for his tsum so it can get the eveyday is leg, arm, everything day too.

cute thing is jack is actually so proud of himself 😭 evident from the cute lil' wag of tail he does.

he's so pure!!

and him and his tsum totally 'work out' together.

well it's mainly him but he likes to think that his tsum is too. if he's doing an exercise that doesn't require a lot of moving his tsum is just there somewhere with it's weights facing him.

if he's running he has it on his shoulders awww..

sometimes he can get a little distracted though. from his intense focus he didn't even hear you approaching, let alone sitting down and basically hogging his tsum all to yourself!

at some point you just made the tsum copy whatever the real jack does. jack is doing push-ups? damnn.. tsum is doing is so easily.

you get the point.

it's only then when jack notices when he hears you and mistakes your comment for him.

"ahh, you did great cutie.. so strong, so cute." he hears you mumble and turns pink before turning back to look at you and the happy movement of his wolf traits pause.

oh that wasn't for him.

jack stares in envy. HE SWEARS THAT TSUM JUST SMIRKED AT HIM.. LITERALLY TRAITOR.

man just feels betrayed.

cater diamond

absolutely adores him tsum to bits!!

ever since he got it he practically drags it everywhere and his magicam page is full of it.

I reckon cater named it. maybe dia(mond) or something, if not then the classic cater 2.0 which is funny cause now he got 3 clones!!

^ the other two and now lil' cater 🎤

which makes me wonder. it'd totally be cute if he had like, two other tsums that are copies of the result of his unique magic. now it's actually cater 2.0 for real!

cater 2.0 is definitely more popular than some students so you could go up to one and say: you know who this is *picture of random student*

they'll be like: ehh... can't say I do, or seen them before

you holding up a picture of cater 2.0: what about this?

them: oh thats cater 2.0 obviously!

random student crying in the backround.

IMAGINEEE (laughs in pain)

ahem. he likes to have his tsums (tsums cause he actually got 3 to match himself) around everywhere so he can incorporate them into his selfies.

also he needs to feed everyone more cater 2.0's content. there's cater D, cater I, and cater A who all spell out dia :DD big brain

in the music room of his club where's he's peacefully testing out a riff behind him his tsums lay..

so obviously he didn't hear you shuffle into the room, let out the quietest gasp ever and just take the three into your arms and look like you're in heaven.

you stay like that for a while, smiling and hugging the tsums cause wow were they just adorable! and there's three of them!

you all spare the three a sweet kiss before realizing that the music has stopped and cater is pouting at you.

"aw that isn't fair!" he whined, and smiles cheekily. "these guys and I want some of that too!" he points to his two splits that has recently conjured.

now you got three miniature caters that got the kiss, and three real caters that want one yayy!

sebek zigvolt

said he was not going to care for.. something like that and if there was anything like.. that, the only thing he'd care of was one of malleus'.

then said that 'he wanted to educate the plush' even though it was a plush. he's already contradicting himself here, where's the hate??

legit just rambled to the plush for an hour straight preaching about the greatness and glory of his young master.

where silver actually woke up from! silver!! crazy, right?

it must have been a lot of even silver rose from it.

said he was not going to spend anything on it unlike the other people who had spent a hefty amount of madol for the comfort of their tsum and for them alone.

but he figured.. just getting a small painting of the young master so the tsum would look at it everyday isn't too much of a stretch.

that's what he said before and now he's on his way to get another smaller version merch of malleus.

god forbid if malleus ever came inside the room cause he's just gonna see a lot of stuff.. but don't worry cause sebek atleast has a separate corner for all that.

'I will not care for it' my ass.

of course he had completely forgotten that he had invited you over and was outside fetching his blade he forgot to bring inside.

as per dorm rules! don't want it flying away anywhere if a.. *coughs* storm suddenly appears.

lilia had already invited you in and insisted it was fine for you to enter sebek's room beforehand even with your doubts he just pushed you in and you weren't in a place to argue when he didn't even budge when you tried to stop.

once you just walked around out of curiosity it was only in due time where you would see the plush.

an idea pops in your head.

sebek did not expect to see you inside his room.

let alone on his bed, with his tsum in your arms and you dutifully committing yourself into showering it with love and affection.

he's just flabbergasted, shocked to silence, every synonym near to those. but there's an increasing amount of steam pouring out of his ears as his face twitches more by the minute.

"WHAT ARE YO—"

you kiss it so casually that sebek shuts up and almost faints out of embarrassment and fluster.

WHAT IS GOING ON?? he's so confused. WHO LET YOU IN??

bat chuckling somewhere

epel felmier

would very much like to dress up his tsum.

he knows because vil already saw the tsum looking like a monstrosity covered in dirt and leaves, only spared a disappointed look but stayed silent.

not in the way you'd think cause he feels like he can do whatever he'd like to this tsum and vil wouldn't really care like the man would to real epel.

a hallelujah for him honestly.

he doesn't really put much love to his tsum but it's pretty cute that's all. rook finds it way more appealing than him though which he isn't sure how to interpret.

epel doesn't leave it just anywhere when it's outside of pomefiore. cause students there are polite and definitely would not wreck a plushie that looks exactly like him.

if he did the tsum would probably disappear on campus and be found in a dumpster.

*chills* cause he somehow feels for the tsum.

when he's angry he just vents to it and vents whenever. including the times he's just having a crisis about you.

if that tsum was alive godddd epel would be so exposed.

he left the tsum somewhere outside, in the middle of the garden.

he was practicing his make-up there, as per vil's instructions and went out to go fetch a product he had forgotten to grab along with the others.

he figured he might as well take a cup of water as a drink to go.

epel is just gulping down the water when it's just coincidence that he lowers the cup, sees you, there's water still in his mouth, then you give his tsum a little cute kiss so he just spits it all out.

OH MY GOD WHAT WAS THAT. he thought completely out of it. he stares intensely at the tsum.

he's definitely regretting venting to the tsum about you cause epel somehow thinks it's somehow alive and is now rizzing you up, with the knowledge HE gave IT!

he's so mad help 😭

*epel trying to aggressively rizz you up too*

"you don't need that." *snatches and throws the tsum away*

IN JEALOUSY.

meanwhile you watch it fly with sad eyes. :(

mad epel.

note. jesus christ I wrote all of this RIGHT AFTER I posted that /srs ☹ AND I DID ALL THIS IN LIKE AN HOUR HELP ME WHERE DID THAT COME FROM

commision me!

[moonyasnow]

Sleeping Beauty's Tentative Prince.

PROMPT : They kiss you in your sleep

CHARACTERS : Ace, Jack, Malleus, Sebek

CONTENT : fluff and angst, pre-relationship, they are PI-NING, the fae have…strange priorities. or maybe it's just Lilia in particular(Malleus' part), internalized racism (Sebek's part)

—

I do NOT condone doing this in real life to someone who hasn't consented. But this is fiction so fuck it we ball

While you were awake, he could not show the affection to you that he wished he could, caught up in his own fears it might not be reciprocated and could strain your current relationship.

But in sleep, you would never know. In sleep, he could more easily deliberate upon his fondness for you, as much confusion, anxiety, fear, hope and longing as they brought him.

Ace

Ace Trappola portrayed himself as a 'coaster extraordinaire', gliding only where turf is smooth, dancing through life without a care in the world for anything besides goofing off with his friends. Stuff like 'love' and 'romance' wasn't on his radar, deciding he'd rather steer clear of it after an experience dating in middle school that left him feeling so utterly...bored, not really there, as having to live up to some ideal decided by his partner. Was that what all those books and songs and movies was hyping up? He felt lied to! It wasn't fun, and he couldn't understand how his now ex-girlfriend, or anyone else for that matter, really thought of any of that stuff as desirable!

The 'ghost bride', Eliza, was really just a personification of everything that made him want to steer clear of it. After she finally decided to shuffle off this mortal coil for good, along with her equally ghost— to Idia's utter relief— husband, too tired from all that fighting to really feel like it was worth it, he decided he'd rather crash at Ramshackle than walk all the way back to Heartlsabyul.

You declared you'd make it a sleepover, which was why he was laying in a sleeping bag on the musty living room floor of the ancient, decrepit house, creaking and groaning from the wind and its own whims. You laid next to him, on a mattress(unfair of you not to bring a second, by the way), sound asleep. He was kinda envious of you in that moment, you know?

Despite how dead tired he was after not only all the battle stuff but cleaning up the cafeteria on top of it, sleep just wouldn't bless him with its embrace. And desptire how much he didn't want to, especially not after all the other first-years— including Deuce, the bastard— made fun of him for the thought he'd already put into it...he found the topic of 'love' spinning around his head again.

He sure as hell didn't want the kind that Eliza'd idealized it to be. The others claimed that he, out of all the other suitors, did at least seem to know what he wanted. "...someone you can laugh with, and cry with...someone who'll stick with you through all the hard times..." He felt flustered and like an idiot recalling he'd said that for the entire room to hear, even more so due to the fact they'd caught on he was actually being genuine.

Then for some inexplicable reason he got an urge to turn his head to look at you. You looked about as tired as he felt. By that meaning you looked terrible. Or so he'd say if you were asking him why he was staring. Why was he staring? Probably because he was concerned. Just a little bit. Crowley already threw enough shit your way on the regular anyway, now you have to deal with this, too. And he never understood why you still tried so hard.

You, while not even having magic, had still given it your all during those battles, throwing rocks and twigs and even a goddamn wall-mounted candlestick— or well, that used to be wall-mounted, though apparently not as well as anyone thought they were if you could just pull it off the wall— at the ghosts. It phased right through them, obviously, but it'd annoyed and distracted them enough to make his and the others' job a whole lot easier. It was long past time for him to take back everything he said about you the first day you met by the school's Main Street.

You really had become an all-in-one janitor, photographer, therapist, and law-enforcer in one in the time you'd been here. It really wasn't fair. But you'd once told him it was easier since you had him and the rest of the braincell squad around. And he had to admit, it was the same for him. When it came to you in particular. Sure, he liked Deuce, and maybe Grim too just a little bit, but having you there was...special. He's not sure how he would've dealt with the incident at that one absolutely horrible unbirthday party and his Housewarden's total freak-out if you weren't there...or if, before it, he'd have had to spend the night in Ramshackle all alone with just the ghosts for company.

His eyes widened. Wait... He started to feel warm from top to bottom. He didn't mean it like— you weren't— y-you were just buds! You know? Friends. Just friends. And then he wanted to strangle someone when he realized those words tasted bitter in his mouth. Getting up on his elbow and looking at your sleeping face he couldn't place every thought whirring through his head. He thought you were kinda pretty or whatever, sure, but it's not weird to think your friend is pretty! And maybe...

No. Try as he might, every new excuse he came up with for why that couldn't be the case was just that; an excuse. He liked you. As more than just a friend. Maybe he kept trying to deny it because of how different this felt to his middle-school girlfriend. He thought she was cute and all, but he felt so alone when he was with her. Like she was seeing some boyfriend-shaped cut-out in place of him. He never felt alone when he was with you. And he sure as hell would never take a whole day's worth of public transport to school on a break for anyone else.

But it's not like he was planning for this. It felt strange, the way you went from 'best friend' to 'best friend I wanna be with' in his mind. Because, those categories weren't supposed to intersect, were they? Or could they? It just felt weird.

…But when he got past his initial shock, he realized that, thinking of you that way felt…natural. It was strange. Strange that it wasn't something he had to psyche himself up for. Maybe he was more like Eliza than he initially realized, in that way. Not noticing that kind of love when it was right in front of him. Maybe he'd also gotten caught up in that idealization of love, never realizing before that love actually could be with someone like that…someone he cherished like a best friend.

Laying down again and turning his whole body to face you properly, he stared at you. You really were pretty. Not in that way where you see someone and can just tell whether they're pretty or not. Not in the attraction kinda way either. Well, there might have been a little bit of that too. But mostly, there was just something...special, about you.

About your face, and your eyes, hair, shoulders, nose, chin, neck, hands and just— everything. Just looking at you made him feel warm. It usually did. But especially in that moment. It was weird, how just thinking those things seemed to jump-start his heart like some old motor, because now it was racing in the night. He found himself leaning closer, until his breath fanned at your lips. Looking at you from such a close proximity was weird. Sure, he might wrap an arm around or lean it on your shoulder pretty often, and do things like flick your forehead or your nose to see you pouting at him, but you'd never really been this close before. The tips of your noses were touching.

He was planning on moving away. He really was. But then you shifted in your sleep and your lips brushed softly against his.

As quickly as he could, he almost leapt backwards and turned his back to you and hoped to the Seven you didn't realize. Not then, not the next morning— not ever.

He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, and calm his racing heartbeat.

Sadly for him, he laid awake all night thinking about it and didn't get a lick of sleep.

He kinda hoped he could do it again one day. With you awake this time, of course. Yeah...with you, it might not be so bad. The Underworld would freeze over before he ever told you that though. Well, that was hyperbole. He just wanted to make sure you wouldn't like…laugh at him for it, or something.

…Maybe accidents weren't so bad sometimes.

Jack

Having grown up knowing that his parents, his grandparents, and most likely their parents and grandparents too, were mated for life— that they found each other and that was it— Jack Howl had always been sure that's how it would go for him too. That when he found 'the one' everything would be easy, and make sense instantly. And when he started to feel a strange new pressure in his chest around you, a desire to protect you more than even his other friends, he was sure that this was it. Yet something happened which he hadn't considered.

The person he fell for wasn't another wolf beastperson, nor any other kind of beastperson or mer who mated for life. You were human. And humans very much did not mate for life, as much as some might claim they would like to. For the first time he started to feel a bit of doubt about his future life plan. He was sure you were 'the one' for him… But now he had to start to contest with the fact that, he might not be 'the one' in your eyes.

So, he thought…he would try to court you in some way. Make it clear he could be a good partner for you.

During the second night at Vargas' training camp, when Grim hadn't returned from going to get blankets with the others, you had become so worried that you tried to run off to go looking for him. And Jack felt like he had no choice but to go with you; he would never risk you running into the shadow while alone. It definitely wasn't the smartest decision, and he had tried to stop you. But you had argued against him, insisting you wouldn't just leave Grim behind, no matter how much danger it put you in. That was something he had always respected about you; you always looked out for those in you pack. And he agreed to go with; he'd do the same for you— and then some— if you went missing, after all. But an hour of walking later, and you both realized that…you were lost. Now, not only was Grim gone, but those who remained at camp would think you both were gone, too.

You two had been walking for hours searching for the way back to no avail, when you had given up, swaying on your feet, saying you couldn't take another step. His eyes shot up in surprise, having been too caught up in getting you both back to camp to consider you didn't have anywhere near his levels of stamina, his ears flattening against his head with both guilt and a bit of embarrassment— guilt at not having realized you couldn't keep up, and embarrassment at not remembering the way back well enough. More like shame, really. He felt sure camp was the safest place for both of you right now, yet in his haste to follow you to make sure nothing jumped out at you, he'd neglected to keep good enough track of the scents around you both to be able to lead the way back. That wasn't how a good partner was supposed to behave! He was supposed to be able to make sure you were safe.

You were the one to suggest, with the night being so cold, that you sleep close to one another. He balked at the suggestion once it left your mouth, trying to hide the furious blush he knew would overtake his face if he let it— letting you see him like that would be way too embarrassing to consider; he was supposed to be cool! So you'd know he could protect you! Not act like some lovesi— o-overly affectionate— puppy! But when you reasoned that it was to conserve heat, to make sure neither of you ever became cold enough for it to be truly dangerous, he had no argument against it, and so was forced to go along with it. He didn't want you to freeze, after all. And no, don't misunderstand him! His tail did NOT just start wagging! And if it did, i-it was just nerves! N-not at being close to you— the shadow! NOT TO SAY HE COULDN'T TAKE ON THE SHADOW IF IT APPEARED—

He had to force himself to keep quiet, lest he put his foot in his mouth again.

He'd assumed you would just be sleeping next to each other. So when you slotted yourself right in his arms, your head on his chest, he froze in place, begging for dear life that you weren't hearing the way his heart was now racing. No matter if you did or not, you soon fell asleep. But Jack, like a protective guard dog (a comparison he didn't like but couldn't exactly deny at this moment) stayed awake for a while longer to make sure the area was truly safe, leading to him becoming lost in his thoughts.

He was confused why you were here at all. You weren't even part of a sports club! Or any club at all, for that matter; running errands for Crowley ate up too much of your time for you to be able to join one. But you were still here. You had claimed it was better than spending that time in school figuring out a way for a magicless student to succeed in magic assignments, Grim not often being fond of cooperating if there was no tuna involved, much to your frequent frustration. But it still really didn't sit right with him that you got caught up in all this when you were only meant to be there to take pictures. He thought Crowley should definitely compensate you for this, since you got caught in danger due to him making you go along with them. But by now he'd wised up enough to realize that was never going to happen. The thought began to really get on his nerves.

It was insane, how Crowley treated you like some slave with no mind or will of your own. Even worse, a disposable one he kept throwing at problems— dangerous problems...he still wasn't over how close you'd come to being seriously injured in the fight at the Mostro Lounge— that should have been CROWLEY'S job to handle. He almost began to growl just thinking about it. The mere thought of you, his m— friend...his good...friend...being hurt in the slightest scared him. Enough that his arms unconsciously tightened around you. The scent of your hair, a reminder you were currently not in danger, put him at ease. He exhaled in silent relief.

…If…

After you both graduate, if he asked you to come with him back to his home in the Shaftlands, what would you say? He'd be able to keep you safe. Make sure you never had to live like this again. What with your status as not being from this world and thus having no legal identifying paperwork, getting a job would probably be hard for you. So he'd get a job and support both you and him. And Grim, of course— if Grim was your pack, he was Jack's, too. He was already sure his family would love you, and welcome you with open arms. And then one day down the line he'd—

He couldn't bring himself to finish his thought, face having grown far too red. But his tail wouldn't stop wagging. He might have thought of it before, but that was when you weren't literally sleeping in his arms. You being so close just...made everything feel too real.

He took a deep breath to clear his mind. What mattered right now was that he would keep you safe. Take care of you. Now…and hopefully, you'd allow him to do the same in the future.

But the fuzzy, excited feelings brought on by the thought he didn't finish didn't leave him, them and your scent lulling him further into a comfortable sleepiness. So close to sleep and overflowing with affection, he didn't even notice, let alone have the sense to stop himself, from placing a kiss to your forehead, snuggling up closer to you to make sure you kept warm, unconsciously smiling against the top of your head as he, too, was claimed by sleep.

It just felt so...right, to hold you.

…The next morning you were confused by why he refused to look you in the eye.

Malleus

Malleus Draconia, crown prince and heir to the fae Kingdom of Briar Valley, was used to spending his time alone. Used to having only his guards and mentor for company. Used to spending hours wandering through empty stone hallways and rigorously up-kept gardens where none but he, his beloved gargoyles, and the occasional critter dared wander.

Perhaps that was because of him.

Though he came to Night Raven College to 'broaden his horizons', after the first few months or so of classes in which he was left to work alone even on group projects, smelling the fear of his peers in the air, he had all but given up on finding an actual friend. Someone who would stay by his side not out of duty or necessity, but purely out of desire to.

The way you haphazardly seemed to stumble into his life and make a home for yourself in his hollow ruin of solitude had still not caught up with him, even months later.

It was late in the evening, the old decrepit clock in Ramshackle had just struck 12. You were on the couch, leaning against him, asleep on his shoulder as he read a book. Or at least, he had been trying to. For all of five minutes. The soft pressure of your body leaning against his arm had made him lose all focus for anything not related to you. So here he was, staring like a fool at your sleeping figure.

That you, so small and fragile compared to him, were not afraid of the dragon by your side— the horned beast with power enough to destroy most of the school with less than a snap of his fingers— never ceased to amaze him. Yet it was on nights like these, when you were too tired to go for your usual evening walk with him yet still wanted him near, that left him most awestruck. Not only did you say, with your own words, that you wished to be by his side despite your lack of energy…you trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence. Leaning against his shoulder, no less. It intoxicated his heart with pride, peace and longing in equal measure.

Yet, it only occurred to him the first time it happened that he had never seen another's sleeping face before. At least, not with their knowledge. He had seen you resting through your window on his late-night strolls before. Yet this was different. You allowed him this. If he did not already think you were the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever bore witness to, he did once he saw the gentle, peaceful expression on your face so close. He couldn't help but liken you to the sleeping princess in the old story of the Thorn Witch from his homeland. Sleeping so peacefully…all whilst leaning against a dragon.

His heart ached with feelings he had no words for as he stared at your face, streaked with moonlight, book long since forgotten. Cupping your cheek, he cursed the leather gloves keeping him from truly feeling your skin. In the back of his mind he harbored a fear he dare not put into words: that were he to feel your skin against his, it would be a point of no return, and he would never be able to go without it again. A curse to one such as him, who— his logic was much too aware for his liking— would be forced to grow accustomed to losing the touch of all things in time.

Yet his emotions, not bound by logic of any kind, wondered if you would like that. If him discarding his inhibitions and letting his gloveless hands roam every inch of your body would delight you the same way the mere thought did him. One part of him told him that 'yes, you would'; he was the fae prince, one of the most talented mages alive. He could keep you safe, give you anything you could ever desire. Yet another part of him said 'perhaps not' with barely any hesitation. He was a dragon, feared by man and fae alike for his power which could wipe out whole nations, should he desire to. The conflicting answers left him with a confusing sense of whiplash, not knowing which to trust. Yet, since you were not, unlike many, afraid of him, he found himself hoping your answer would fall more in line with the former…

Heart filled with trepidation and yearning in conflict with one another, he searched his mind for that always comforting anchor of knowledge that was Lilia's words. All that came to mind regarding the matter of kisses was that 'it was not to be done once the sun had set', which to him was good enough reason to force himself to abstain. Or at least, so he'd hoped. He wished to listen to his mentor's words, clung to them when his own young mind felt overcome with what he wished to do instead of what he ought to do…yet found he could not. At least, not fully.

Holding your warm hand in his which was cold beneath his gloves, the heat still slowly seeping from yours to his, yours appeared so small. As Malleus resisted the urge to rub his nose against yours, he felt his pulse beat in his throat. A metaphorical fire lit in the candle of his heart, flaring higher as he slowly neared your lips.

At the last second he managed to force himself to place his gloved hand gently over your mouth, placing a light, chaste kiss to the back of it.

He yearned to traverse further, to not have this self-imposed barrier in his way, to truly know if your lips were as soft as he imagined them to be, if they tasted as sweet. It was difficult to draw a line for himself. But, despite pouting through it, he still did. Once more recalling Lilia's words of wisdom: it would be impolite to steal your first kiss— or at least, so Malleus assumed it was— without your knowledge, after all.

After that he made up his mind to keep himself in check. That was enough for tonight, he thought and tried to return to his book. But his thoughts never stopped drifting to you.

It equally unsettled and enthralled him.

Sebek

The son of a human father and a fae mother— a fae mother who went entirely against the norms and expectations of her people and culture to marry a human man, a man whose people had hurt hers, and whose union with her had barely been accepted, much less understood— to say that Sebek Ziegvolt feels many conflicting emotions interacting with humans would be an understatement.

He, having seen the scorn his parents' union brought his mother, had vowed as a young child that he would 'never be stupid enough to choose to marry a human'. For he, at his young age, fully believed it was something he had control over. And he still did well into his teens, Lilia's explanation that love cared not for what people had decided, while he admired, revered and respected the older fae greatly, was still not quite enough to persuade him that there could ever be a possibility of him, Sebek Ziegvolt, proud knight of the Lord Malleus Draconia, deigning to fall for a mere human. He couldn’t understand the appeal in any way, shape or form. Human were weak. Fae— he— were strong.

What use had the strong for the weak?

But when you saw him freezing in the cold winter air, you wrapped your scarf around him. He, predictably, began to chastise you, claiming through a runny nose that as a human you were weaker than he and that he could handle this cold, and would not lose to mere weather— which was evidently not the case, as his own words were cut off by a big sneeze, to which you simply laughed. What nerve you had, he thought, for you, a mere human, to laugh at him, Sebek Ziegvolt. To laugh at his weakness! But his thoughts stopped dead in their tracks when you removed the hand covering your mouth and he saw your smile. It was...dazzling. A depiction of beauty which he had only heard described before.

In his daze he almost missed you taking a napkin out of your pocket and wiping away the mess under his nose, still smiling at him the same way.

Though he chided you, claiming to not need it, he was powerless to stop the stutter in his heart at your gesture. The tip of your finger grazed his jaw for a fraction of a second as you withdrew your hands, and it haunted his dreams for weeks. And the gentle smile on your face, showing, as far as he knew, nothing but sincere care for him, was enough to make him feel as though he didn't need the scarf at all.

It was...dizzying.

He saw his displays of weakness as just that: weakness, not vulnerability. In his eyes he must not have either to be able to be a good, no, even passable knight to his Young Master! Deep down he knew his Lord Malleus was already strong enough to not really need a knight. But he could never shake the worry it was on him, that he didn't need a knight because Sebek wasn't knightly enough. That was why he worked so hard. His position, with Lord Malleus, in life, had to mean something. Make him mean something.

But you never seemed to care for how he thought of it, showing him small gestures of kindness over and over again. In time he found he had begun to expect those small gestures, despite how he might still had insisted they were unnecessary. That you continued them despite his insistence...warmed him, just like when you lent him your scarf— which he always returned to you each day, knowing you would wrap it around him again the next.

At first he was sure you must have bewitched him, cast some manner of curse upon him— forgetting the fact that you, as magicless, would not be capable of such a feat— for he could find no other logical explanation for what the feeling of full-body lightness and heart-stuttering you brought upon him could be. At least...none he wanted to listen to; none that made sense to him.

You were human.

What he could never let himself be.

And he, the knight of Malleus Draconia, couldn't make the same strange choice as his mother, no matter how highly he respected her.

Yet whether he wished to or not, they'd taken hold of him, struck his heart like lightning, leaving a permanent mark of you on his very being.

It was shortly after that incident that he had, one evening, come to Ramshackle in search of Lord Malleus, and instead found you on one of the Dorm's benches, looking moments away from sleep. For a moment, thoughts of his search for his liege left his mind. When he asked what you were doing out alone this late at night, interrogating you like you'd broken some kind of curfew Ramshackle didn't have, you smiled and said you were waiting for Malleus to go on your usual evening stroll with him. Something about that gave him a sour feeling in his chest. For you or for Lord Malleus, he couldn't say.

Huffing, he said he might as well wait with you. You said nothing at that, just smiled and patted the spot next to you. Reluctantly, he did.

You sat in silence for a while, him trying to ignore the way so many feelings he couldn't figure out the meanings of stung at his chest. He was so caught up in his mind that it was only once he'd finally figured out something to say to you and took a deep breath that he realized his shoulder felt heavier, and he looked over to see you leaning against it, sound asleep. He was about to begin to scold you for falling asleep while waiting for his Young Master! It was bad enough his Lord Malleus had to endure the tardiness of Silver on acount of the latter's propensity for falling into slumber at any given moment! But when he looked at your face again, the words, for once, froze in his throat and fizzled away.

The way your mouth was left slightly agape, leaving a small trail of drool running down your chin, really should have appalled him, been seen as something pathetic, left him feeling distaste of some kind. But when you'd still smiled at him when he had snot running from his nose, how could he?

Maybe it was fine to…let you sleep. You didn't fall asleep like this often anyway…

As gently as he could, so as not to wake you, he lifted your body up and sat you in his lap, shifting and angling himself to allow your legs to still hang over the edge of the bench, now exchanged for his legs. He looked up at your sleeping expression in reverence, bringing his thumb to wipe away your drool. In his other hand he took yours, which had been hanging limply at your side. With his other arm around your waist to keep you from tipping over, he leaned his head, cheeks burning, against your shoulder, yours falling atop his as he did.

Closing his eyes, he pressed a tender kiss to the back of your hand.

His heart fluttered with a novel tenderness...yet not one he found he minded. He would guard you as you slept. Care for you in your 'weakness', just as you had him in his.

To love a human might not be something he was yet capable of. But, if you would extend to him the same, not a half-fae, but him...

...he might be able to love you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

First of all I just want to say: Thank you thank you thank you SO MUCH to everyone who engaged at all with my last (and first) writing post! > <

Knowing people like my writing was such a massive motivation-boost to me! I tend to struggle with perfectionism and feeling like my writing isn't good enough by my own standards, so all that stuff is very, very appreciated!

I also wanna say sorry if any of them seemed OOC— aside from Malleus, I don't feel as confident in writing these characters as I do for the characters in my first post, since I don't know them as well yet. A big thank you to @yuurei20 for their TWST character fact sheets (found here) for the help! And also to the people who contribute to the the English TWST wiki!

Lastly: A reminder if you didn't already know, that I do, in fact, take requests! Coming up with WHAT to write is usually the hardest part for me; when I get past that I have a blast! ^^

...Also I think doing the research for this has skyrocketed Sebek up my 'favorite TWST characters' list because damn. That's rough, buddy. And honestly same in a way. His part was definitely my favorite to write.

[luveline]

whenever youre free!! can you please write a spencer x reader where we meet spencer during an early season where he’s still cute and awkward maybe we date too but something happens and we don’t see him for a long time only to meet him again when he’s older and hotter (post prison) and there’s still crazy tension after all those years. in love with your writing btw!!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

tysm for requesting! hope this is ok :D ♡ 1.2k

cw vaguely suggestive theme

Looking at Spencer, you could almost think you were fresh out of college again, unsure of yourself and in need of a friend. 

He'd been much more than a friend. It's why you're here. 

The cake might have been a bad idea. You hold it between two hands, the subtle smell of chocolate rising from the box's ill-fitting lid. Your breath catches, words coming out wonky, "Hey. Spencer?" 

He looks up from his book, startled at being found, you think. "Y/N?" 

He looks the same. 

Obviously, he's older. He has facial hair and his curls are styled rather than having been left to their own devices, but you feel as hopelessly enamoured with him as you had years ago, because he still smiles like a puppy dog.

You're twice as surprised as he is when he stands from his coffee table to hug you. The cake box wobbles in your hands as he squeezes you, swaying you from side to side, his laugh warm in your ear. 

"What are you doing back here?" he asks, diving backward to see your face. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again." 

"I still had JJ's number, you know, from when I wanted that address, and she texted me to say you'd been released, and I," —your voice curls tighter, are you talking too much?— "know you might not want to hear from me, but I was worried about you. You were my best friend." 

His smile flickers. You press the cake into his hands. 

"That's for you," you say. 

Spencer's wavering smile turns to the box. He sets it down on the table beside his coffee cup and tented book, removing the lid carefully. You remember suddenly how nice his hands are, and the tracing of his fingertips down your bare shoulders. Goosebumps erupt along the ghost of his touch. 

"Well done on not being a criminal," he reads, snorting. "Funny. Little too soon." 

You feel like your stomach's fallen out, but he drops the act with another laugh. 

"Oh, you're still a jerk," you say. "I'm glad something hasn't changed." 

"You think I've changed?" he asks. 

"You didn't get any taller, if that's what you're asking." 

Spencer's smile turns fond. It's the sweet, sticky smile he'd always give you before he'd tell you he loved you, or that you were the best best friend ever. Or that last night, when you followed him hand in hand down the long hallway to his bedroom. 

"I wasn't that much of a jerk, was I?" he asks. 

"No, you weren't." You hold your hands behind your back. "Could I join you? Just for a bit?" 

"You brought me a cake. I can't say no, can I? Of course you can sit down. I'll get you a coffee, okay?" 

He touches his hand to your arm as he passes. You sit down in the seat across from him, sick with what-if and should-have. What if I could've stayed? Maybe I should have done more. But when Spencer ignored the letters you sent him while he was incarcerated, you figured you'd done more than he wanted. The cake was a last ditch effort, spurred on by JJ's text that read, I think he'd be really happy to see you. 

Spencer puts a china cup down in front of you. You take a sip, muscle memory, and grin at him shyly as he slides into the seat across from you. "You remembered." 

"I remember everything." 

"Right. Your photographic memory." 

"Eidetic, and sure, but I wouldn't forget about you." He reads your shyness for what it is, worry you've overstepped. He's too perceptive to trick. "I think I tried, but… I have so many bad memories, I wanted the good ones to keep." 

You can't imagine the things he experienced in prison. JJ couldn't tell you much. You knew from how you had to address his letters alone that he was sent to a general correctional facility in Mexico, rather than the protective custody he'd needed. He doesn't look terrible considering, but you've barely seen him since you had to leave. He's aged well. The only worry is his dark under eyes. 

"We had a good time," you say gently. "I knew you'd need that. That's why I sent you all those letters, you know? I wasn't trying to come back into your life, I know I don't deserve it after I left, but I couldn't stop thinking about you by yourself." 

You stare at his book. 

"How many letters did you send?" he asks. 

"I don't really remember." 

"I didn't get one." He grimaces. "I didn't get any from my mom, either. Think it was a coincidence?" 

Spencer's time in was kind of sick. He stabbed himself, made friends with criminals, played a lot of chess, and learned how to make tacos in a doritos bag. It was also arguably the loneliest and most degrading time of his life. 

One coffee becomes two, two becomes a third to go. You feel a hundred emotions but there's one that stands out the most as you drift around Pentagon City with him —wanting. You want him to be your best friend again, to rub your back and hold you when you're tired, to take you grocery shopping in his beat up P130. You want him to kiss you like he had, like he was searching for something, but he's changed so much that you don't know if your Spencer is still in there, under everything, or if he'd even want to.

"You live in the same apartment?" you ask. 

"Can you imagine how much it would cost me to move that many books? Paying the rent turns out cheaper," he says, the two of you walking in the grey street. "What about you? You didn't come all the way here to see me." 

"I actually did." You rub up the length of your upper arm, sheepish. "I did, Spencer." 

For a while, all you can hear is the plastic rustling of the bag held in his hand. 

"Thank you for writing to me. I didn't get to read them, but it makes a difference." 

You lift your head to meet his eyes. He holds your gaze, a charge behind his dark brown eyes. You used to think his irises and his pupils were one and the same, but you can see now that there are flecks of light in his irises. His hedging of thick lashes kiss in the corners as he slowly, slowly smiles. 

You glare at him. "Don't." 

"Don't what?" 

"You know what. You're doing that thing. Pretending you're not trying to make me nervous." 

"I'm not doing that. Flustered, but not nervous." Is he smirking?

"Flustered," you repeat, your smile stupidly big now, cheeks aching. "Yeah, right, Reid."

His pinky brushes yours. You don't have any proof that he's doing it purposefully, but he is. 

"Do you want to get something to eat? You can tell me what you were writing in your letters. I'd really, really like to know." His voice is threaded with a familiar timidity for the first time since you reunited. 

There you are, you think happily. "Sure. You buy me a sticky bun from our old place and I'll tell you all my written secrets." 

"Deal." 

[unclewaynemunson]

Okay i know we all love the trope of Steve being scared he's being Too Much™ in a relationship, but what about Eddie? Eddie, whose parents dropped him off at his uncle because he was nothing but a liability to them, and who has only ever known intimacy through random hookups in club bathrooms or dark alleys. Who doesn't have a clue where to store all the love he feels for Steve. Any form of gentleness, of romanticism, scares the shit out of him because it makes him so vulnerable and even though every fiber of his body wants nothing more than to hold Steve's hand or call him every night to talk about nothing or make him breakfast in the morning he is terrified, because what if Steve will laugh at him, get up and leave him? The mere thought of it makes him want to run.

And then there's Steve, who has actually been very comfortable with casual intimacy and showing his feelings, and who has been waiting for so long to have an actual relationship again and can't wait to do all the cheesy shit. Who surprises Eddie while he's at work at Thatcher Tire in full S2 Lovestruck-Steve mode, sneaking up to him from behind to scoop him up and twirl him around because he hasn't seen his boyfriend for almost two whole hours so obviously he misses him like crazy.

And Eddie just – starts crying, right there, full-on sobbing, with grease on his hands that he smears all over his cheeks because he has no thoughts at all left in his mind except for How can this possibly be real???

And Steve holds him more gently than anybody has ever done before, while he whispers sweet-nothings in his ear and patiently waits for him to come back to himself, looking worried out of his mind but very much not going anywhere.

They talk, and Steve gets to understand why Eddie got so overwhelmed, and Eddie gets to understand that Steve actually wants them to do all the cheesy shit together and that it'll be impossible for Eddie to be Too Much for him, no matter how Much he ever gets.

[justauthoring]

your hand feels nice in mine.

requested! -> hii loved your natsu fic! 🤭 i’m glad that fairy tail content is coming back. i wanna request something similar w gray.. maybe it’s a hot day n he helps reader

a/n -> honestly it was not my intention to write for fairy tail today... but writing that natsu drabble was so fun and i can't help it im in a fair tail mood lol. also, for the sake of it, let's pretty juvia hasn't joined the guild yet okay?

pairing -> gray fullbuster x f!reader

it was far too hot.

ridiculously hot.

really, it shouldn't even be humanely possible for it to be this hot. hot enough that you were sweating profusely, it building up on your forehead and leaving you feeling gross and sticky. you were thirsty and your movements felt luggish, as if you might just pass out on the spot.

clearly, the universe had something against you because this was starting to feel like a personal attack.

your eyes flicker to your teammate who seems all too unaffected by the heat; which, yes, to be fair was to be expected. gray was an ice wizard and you knew he ran cold, so obviously this heat wasn't impacting him as much. he looked somewhat warm, you guessed, a small build up of sweat lining his forehead.

but he wasn't dragging his feet and he didn't look flushed or uncomfortable. nothing like you at least.

walking ahead of you, gray looks perfectly fine which, unfortunately, is just irritating you more. how was it fair that he was fine while you were practically dying?

"dumb ice wizard with your stupid ice powers and cooling abilities," you mumble to yourself, grouchy and annoyed.

you just wanted this mission to be over but it was looking like you were going to be stuck on this island for a while longer if the fact that you guys hadn't even found your clients target yet was anything to go by. the rest of team natsu had split up in search of them; natsu and happy with lucy and erza with carla and wendy.

which left you with the stupid, unbothered and cool gray.

truthfully, you're not even sure how you're going to even be able fight the damn target when you do reach them because it was so hot!

"are you okay?"

if he hadn't spoken, you would've ended up walking right into gray. but his voice is enough to snap you out of your own sulking, blinking as you stop and meet his gaze. his words seem genuine and you're sure he is concerned but the damn smirk on his lips just pisses you off more.

"fine," you reply sharply, turning to walk past him.

gray reaches for you before you can, his hand wrapping around your arm and halting your steps as he pulls you back towards him.

regrettably, even if his cold hand feels soothing on your skin.

"what—"

gray just lets out a chuckle, shifting you so you're stood in front of him before pressing his palm against your forehead. whatever you'd been about to say promptly falls silent the second it does. instantly, a cold, gentle breeze flows over you, enveloping your entire body in a cooling sensation that has your tensed muscles relaxing.

"oh."

"feel better?"

glancing up at gray, you blink at him, dazed. "much," you admit, nodding, "your magic feels so nice."

gray flushes slightly at your words, the compliment making his insides feel funny as he coughs, trying to pretend like that hadn't affected him. "w-well, i'm glad. you looked pretty miserable."

as the feeling floods you, you start to gather your bearings, now just realizing how close you were to gray. his hand was raised, pressed against your forehead, but his other hand still rested on your arm and the two of you were very close.

you feel your cheeks warm as you lower your gaze.

"th-thank you, gray." you mumble, feeling oddly embarrassed even though you can't reason why. gray was your friend and all he was doing was helping you, his friend, cool down in this ridiculous heat.

there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

still, that couldn't explain the flush on both of your cheeks.

"here," gray shifts, moving his hand and you have to resist the urge to moan at the loss of his hand. he lets go of your arm and moves to stand beside you. and, before you can dwell on the disappointment much longer, gray's face is burning and he's promptly turning away from you, avoiding your gaze.

your eyes then lower, seeing his hand held out towards you, palm inviting.

"gray?"

"hold my hand," he explains, muffled as he shoves his face into his coat collar (surprisingly still on). "i'll keep you cool."

the realization dawns on you, eyes widening. "o-oh," you mumble, forcing the words out as you glance at his hand once again. "okay."

slowly, hesitantly, you slip your hand into his, gray easing into the touch as he threads his fingers through your own, and squeezes.

true to his word, he lets his magic slowly seep out, cooling you and enveloping you in a consant cool sensation. but the heat refuses to fade from your cheeks, all the same, as the two of you avoid each others gaze.

"sh-should we get going?"

"ye-yeah."

-

"y/n?"

"hm?"

"why are you holding gray's hand?"

you snap your attention to lucy at her question, eyes then snapping to gray who's staring back at you, and then finally down to your intwined hands.

a second later, the two of you are pulling away.

"no-no reason!"

"nothing!"

lucy just blinks at the two of you, quirking a knowing brow.

"you guys sure?"

you send a lucy a half-hearted glare, knowing what she's insinuating, and given that she knew more than anyone else there, you refused to let her try and egg you on. "of course," you say firmly, and lucy just laughs. "it was just... hot. gray cooled me down."

hands on her hips, lucy snorts; "okay, then." then, stepping back, she shrugs. "i was just curious."

she leaves the two of you alone and both you and gray stand there for a moment, silent, not sure what to say.

then, gray speaks up; "i didn't mind, you know?"

"hm?" you mumble, meeting his eyes. he just gestures to his hand and your lips part. "oh. me... me neither. it... felt nice." then, you move to clarify; "and not just because of your magic."

"that's good," gray nods, flustered. "i'm glad."

"yeah."

"...wanna... hold hands again?"

you let out a breath of relief. "yes."

[dcxdpdabbles]

Is there any way I could request more of Danny's Grill? I keep re reading it and it's so great!

Danny's mansion amazed Tim, which said a lot given that he had lived in the Drake and Wayne Manors. It seemed almost like a castle, with its four floors and a few towers (four at each corner of the fenced-off stone. Danny had his property enclosed. )

Everything screamed old money and was well taken care of. He also was surprised to find that the whole place had a lot of natural light.

The drive out of Gotham got them away from the dark cloudy skies to wide blue, and the mansion had plenty of strategically placed windows that caught the sun to light up the rooms.

It was likely that way since the place was obviously built before electricity. Even the air felt lighter, sweater, and caused ease to rest in his bones. Tim found himself strolling through the place, oddly at peace with the silence.

He had taken a dip in Danny's pool, adoring how it was designed to resemble a natural river, complete with a waterfall. It was still a pool, with the proper level of chlorine and tile floor, but there were rocks and multiple plants all around that really sold it to him.

The waterfall was made from unevenly stacked rocks as if carved out of a cliffside. He enjoyed sitting near it, flouting in in the rippling water and listening to the falling water.

Tim found a makeshift bench from the stacked rocks right under the waterfall, where he could comfortably sit down and have the water reach his shoulders. He found himself in that same spot often over the week since he came to stay with Danny.

He was in a fluffy red bathrobe- and nothing else- having just finished a shower to wash off the pool's chlorine. His bare feet patted against the tile floor as Tim once more appreciated the artistic white and gold wallpaper.

He loved that it had leaf-like designs that weren't all over but small enough to give the place a pop of color.

He was still thinking of a destination, wandering about the large building while waiting for Danny to return.

Danny has also been a gracious host. After the first night, he had made him some food and offered him a room across from his, just as large as the master room. It was a lovely white with gold trimming, matching the rest of the mansion but left room to decorate the walls to his hearts content.

Tim hasn't, but Danny seemed rather insistent that he could if he would like to. That Tim had the option open to him. Danny, he came to find, was all about giving people choices.

What did they want to eat? Whatever Tim was in the mood for.

What should they do? If Tim was okay with being around people, they would go out and take pictures. If he was having an overwhelmed day, then Tim could find his own little corner to sit.

Was it okay if Danny gave him friendly hugs or pats? Only if he asked Tim before going in for a hug.

Could Tim walk around in nothing but a bathrobe? Of course! If it made him feel better, Danny could even avoid the entire west side of the mansion so he wouldn't have to see him if he thought like clothes were a bother.

It was enjoyable but also baffling.

Tim has never met someone who gave him as much attention as Danny did but also respected all his boundaries. He enjoyed talking about them, setting them, and even seemed to glow whenever Tim carefully tested the waters, by placing some that would have upset his past friends and family.

Another thing that needed to be clarified about Danny was that he plainly didn't make any sense at all. Tim had always assumed Danny was middle class- maybe high middle- since he ran his own food truck and all but it was obvious by his house that he didn't need it.

Danny's family- from what Tim had been able to uncover- had always been low, middle class up until Danny had been fifteen. Then their luck turned when a rich distant relative by the name of Pariah Dark willed Danny all his fortunes.

Who was Pariah Dark? What happened to him? Why was Danny the only one he left his money to and not all of the Fentons? Why did this property sit for years without any record of usage yet still look brand new?

There was also the question of whether Danny was human.

Tim is sharp when finding small details that lead to clues that lead to answers.

It's both a curse and a blessing.

In this case, he noticed little things about Danny; his tendency to not notice the cold weather, his slight winces when loud noises were near, his graceful steps that were sometimes a tad bit off of gravity, his eyes seemed to change color- blue and green- and the way he would stare into shadows, gaze following something that Tim could not see.

Tim could have assumed Danny had some mental issues- who didn't at this point?- but he felt that wasn't the real reason or not all of it.

He couldn't explain it, but Danny felt like more. Especially when he returns from Gotham because the air feels aware of his arrival. Like it got excited that Danny was back.

Was the mansion sentient like the House of Mystery? Or was it an extension of Danny himself?

Tim had accompanied Danny on a few of his food truck runs. Mostly as a chasier but Danny had beamed when he asked if he could join him three days into his stay.

He did to observe how Danny interacted with the people of Gotham. Just like the air gane a certain something, whenever Danny sold his ware and the people thanked him, he seemed to puff up in strength.

Not the pride in his work kind of puff up but an actual burst of energy as if though he had taken an energy drink. This was doubly so when he gave the street kids free meals. Helping them seemed almost like a drug to Danny.

It begged the question of whether it was, in a sense, a drug. Because Tim could see all the tiny hints that helping people seemed to do much more for his friend. He had dilated pupils, a droopy smile, and random bursts of energy, and he even got a bit snappy when he went too long helping.

Tim could even claim that it was as if Danny was making Deals, and he did not dismiss his hypothesis because Tim had already dealt with aliens, demons, and gods as Red Robin.

Fae or other magical creatures wouldn't be as far-fetched as he once thought.

Did that mean Danny Fenton was never fully human or that something had happened to him that changed him?

There were many questions. Not enough answers.

Yet despite all of that, Tim couldn't find it in himself to think Danny was dangerous. If anything he could only safely conclude Danny lived and breath to protect others.

Tim, the sole attention to his protective tendencies due to proxy, was all but wrapped in a blanket of affection and respect. It could drive a guy to do something silly, like hang up his cowl, resign from WE and live the rest of his life as a pampered prince awaiting for his King.

How odd.

Tim never wanted to do any of those things, but he felt he would if Danny asked. The best part? He knew Danny would never ask that of him which made him want to stay even more.

It's too bad all good things have an end. Tim thinks wistfully. He would much rather spend his days here, but his family was anxious about the lack of check-in.

Tim didn't want them to find out about Danny and had chosen to send a delayed message from the Nest, letting them know he was undercover, infiltrating a possible new magical court. The Bats knew not to risk his cover but they also wanted some proof he was doing alright.

He had asked Danny if he could go to Gotham for a quick trip, and despit the saddness in his blue eyes, Danny always let him. He even gave him the keys to a his car, walking him to the gate with a promise the gates were always opoen to Tim.

Tim would use those visits to catch up on WE work and deposit information packages at Bat checkpoints. He would also pick up coded folders from other family members who wanted to keep him in the loop should their cases overlap.

It's been three weeks since he came here; in that time, Jason had cracked down on pimps and working people. The family was helping him, as Jason was attempting to fulfill a favor that someone had cashed in and was struggling to find the working boy his contact was worried about.

Apparently, the guy was regularly getting roughed up and was underage to boot. Tim hopes Jason finds the jerks hurting him. He would love to help but he had to figure out Danny Fenton first.

The air brighten, snapping Tim out of his thoughts.

Danny was home.

He turned towards the main gate, scurrying to make it to the front door before Danny could finish driving up the drive way and park his car under neeath the shadow parking spots.

His heart fluttered as he barely slide into the main hall way and the wood of the door swung open. Danny steps in, still wearing his black t-shirt and jeans that he favored when working his truck.

"Welcome home!" Tim tells him, watching Danny's whole face break into a wide grin. It was like dawn breaking over the horizion and it made him feel all sorts of warm.

Danny was definitely beaurtyful enough to be otherworldly.

"I'm home, Alvin." Danny pauses and then gestures to his robe, his smile turning warm and fond. "Another late swim?"

"I like the water. It helps my bones," He says, shrugging his shoulders.

Danny hums. "I could ask a friend of mine to install a hot watered pool for you."

Tim considers it. He wants to say no but he just knows the mansion will rat him out. Danny seemed to always know when a lie is spoken here. Another check in the Fae theory.

"If....if it's not a bother, that would be nice." He says suddenly overcome with shyness. The feeling vanishes at the utter delight and green eyes of Danny.

"It's never a bother! The east wing has a smaller pool that rarely gets used. I'll make some calls and have it turn into an artificially hot spring for you." Danny chirps. "It would help me relax too. You would not belive the fight I had with Robin today."

Tim stills. "You fought Robin?"

"Not physically." Danny corrected but still shook his head sadly. "We disagreed on the case he's helping Red Hood with."

"What case?" Are Damian and Jason working together on the working boy's case? Or was it something else? And more importantly did he try Danny's food?!

He may come back for more if he did, and Tim's personal cheat truck was no longer his own!

"I'm not sure of the details, but they are trying to map out all the working girl's corners. He was upset when I told him I would not release that information to a child." Danny sighs. "I know he's Robin, but I could sense how uncomfortable it made him feel, you know? It made my core ache, but Robin took it as me not wanting to respect him as a hero. It was a whole thing."

Tim has so many questions he feels like he might just burst. It's only years of training that had him clamping down on all but one. "You're helping the Bats catch prostitutes?"

Danny's eyes widen "No! No! Not the employees themselves, just their sick pimps. I would never rat them out."

Tim nods once. "Okay."

"I mean it, Alvin. I would never"

And the blue eyes have flickered to green again. Interesting.

But he can't help but relax smiling at Danny. "I know. Thank you for helping them though."

Danny's face flushes, and then he hastily looks away. Coughing into his fist, he mutters, "Are you hungry? I still have some leftover Pizza from today's menu."

"Starved. Want to watch a moive while we eat?"

"Yeah, sounds good-are you-I mean, will you be-um" Danny fumbles over his words gesturing at him. Tim tilts his head in confusion, wondering why he sounds so nervous, until Danny finally blurts. "Is that all you're going to wear?"

"Yeah. It's soft." He says playing with the robe's sleeves and Danny swallows.

"Alright. Okay. I um I'll get the pizza. Will you go pick the moive and get it ready?"

Tim beams, twisting on his heel to do just that and catching the reflection of Danny clutching his chest and screaming silently into a closed fist in a nearby wall mirror. His face is redder than before, and the house ripples with excitement, glee, warmth, and happiness.

Interesting indeed.

[kidrat]

having feelings about trans Gwen,,, like there's the 'superhero leading a double life' allegory for being closeted, which ppl have noted, but there's plenty I haven't seen anyone mention yet! like, the fact her dad has a trans patch in support of her means she's out.

She's a young trans *girl* (as opposed to a trans woman) living as her authentic gender in a loving home. she went to her school dance in a dress. she did ballet! which of course boys can do too, but often times when people are assigned male they don't get the chance to explore feminine hobbies. It's really lovely that someone, likely Gwen's dad, supported her enough to let her have those girly experiences and memories, whether she was living as a girl when she took dance up or as a gnc boy.

While it's subtle rep, I still think it's awesome to imply a character like Gwen is trans. Trans girls don't always get to have a childhood. Transmisogyny fetishizes transfems and presents them as always victimisers, never victims. They're barred from girlhood and it's connotations of innocence, vulnerability, lovableness.

Not that Gwen isn't a hashtag strong female character! And not that she hasn't had to grow up fast in other ways. She Is Literally Spiderwoman and she plays the drums and has agency and expresses negative emotions. But she's also a teenager, and she gets to be hugged and comforted, and to be set up for a soft friends to lovers relationship with another teenager, a cis boy who respects her and only knows her as a girl and thinks she's amazing and draws her in his sketchbook. That is not a role the media often lets trans girls have!!! It's lovely to think young transfems might be able to see themselves in a character consistently shown as worthy of affection.

Of course, the fact that Gwen is in the closet about being spider-woman is even sadder knowing this is her second rodeo. Lots of us have hesitated to come out a second time because our parents were supportive about the first thing and well, putting something else on them feels like taking the piss or hoping for too much.

Something else I wanted to talk about is how Gwen being trans effects a reading of her Peter's death, especially taking into account the new information this film gave us about this. There's this gendered switch happening, where Peter passes on his usual role to a woman. What's more, he has to die for her story to happen. She loves him, and never wanted him to die, but she's blamed for it anyway. Her father talks affectionately about the dead Peter, calling him his daughter's best friend. He talks about him like a son. He vows revenge on Gwen for killing him. It's a fantastic allegory for how some transphobic parents hate their out trans children for 'killing' the kid they had before.

I think with the above in mind, maybe we can see the subtext of Gwen's arc with her dad in this film as that of a supportive parent who's nevertheless got some biases left that hurt his trans daughter, who doesn't speak up for fear his acceptance is conditional.

I don't think it's a stretch to suggest that protecting a trans daughter is this Captain Stacy's motivation while he's working as a cop. Obviously there's the text that he wants to be a 'good cop' to work against the institution's bigotry, and he displays the trans flag on his work jacket. His quitting the police is a fantastic story beat because it makes a point about the real world while also serving a lot of the analogies going on.

Good cops quit. They realise you can't be a well intentioned cog in a bigoted machine. It doesn't matter if you're a bigot or just taking actions a bigot might because you're working within parameters set by bigots. It's an important message. Within a trans reading of the film, I'd also see this plot moment as Stacy realising he can't protect his trans daughter if he's still playing by the rules of a society that see her as threatening and duplicitous. He's then able to stop seeing her on some level as having killed his son.

They're able to be close again because he has completely rejected the cis culture he was a part of, rather than just decrying the worst parts and slotting Gwen in. She no longer has to worry that he'll rescind his acceptance if she's too trans, and so he gets to know all of her because she can let him into her world without self-editing.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on Gwen after watching Across The Spiderverse two hours ago lmao.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Dads, Dads, and more Dads

I did something I shouldn't have! My buds all bailed on our night out, so I hit the bar and got hammered by myself. Somehow, I ended up blackout drunk in a fortune teller's shop. I remember crying about how much I wanted a fatherly figure in my life. She did this weird ritual to make me feel better. I thought it was a joke at the time, but I know now it wasn't...

"Buddy, get out of bed! Breakfast is ready!"

A pang of guilt empties my stomach. For a moment, I stare at the ceiling with absolutely no urge to eat. It's been two days since that fortune teller put a curse on me, and I have no idea how to live with myself. I obviously can't pretend her little ritual wasn't real anymore.

"Hey, Josh," I nervously answer, stepping into the kitchen to look at my roommate.

"Can't sleep all day, buddy. Eat up!" Josh gives me an endearing smile that sends shivers down my spine.

A few days ago, Josh was a lazy, rude asshole who was only good for paying his part of the rent. We were chill enough roommates, but he only ever talked to me when he wanted a second opinion on girls he saw at the gym. The guy was easily the biggest douchebag in our friend group, always showing off and making someone else the butt of his joke.

Looking at him now, I'd laugh! If only I didn't feel so guilty for his personality's erasure.

"Look at the time! I better get moving. That yard won't maintain itself!" Josh flashes the brand new watch on his wrist. The thing is clunky and old: the kind of wristwatch you'd expect a dad to wear.

"You know we're only renting this place for the semester, right?" I search his expression for any trace of the slimy old Josh, "The landlord is supposed to take care of the yard!"

Josh just chuckles and mutters something about wanting to impress the neighbors. He even has the audacity to reach out and tussle my hair. My face gets hot as a guy, only a month older than myself, treats me like a child.

That curse really screwed up his brain. When Josh found me the morning after, something just broke in him. He immediately jumped to my side and promised to help me nurse my hangover, and it didn't stop there. After he tucked me in for a nap, he drove straight to the mall, buying a whole new wardrobe of cargo shorts and polos. I thought he was just hitting the gym like usual, so when he came back dressed up like the suburban father he hates, I barely even recognized him.

"Have a good day, buddy!"

Josh ignores my protests and plants a big smooch on the back of my head before marching out of the kitchen. It was bad enough my roommate was calling me buddy! Does he really have to kiss me like that too? It makes me uncomfortable to see my scummiest friend infused with such insane paternal instincts, but this is kind of what I asked for. Right?

I slam the back door shut and look at my rusty old bike. Today is already getting on my nerves and I'm not in the mood to peddle all the way to class. Maybe, that guy next door hasn't left for work yet...

"Oh, hey there, Kiddo!"

The deep voice of my neighbor makes me relax a little. I see all six and a half feet of him climb out of the car and stare at me with the same look Josh had on earlier. He's a father of four, but ever since my night out, he looks at me like I'm him his only real son.

"Hey, Mr. Jones," I mumble back.

"Glad I caught you, Kiddo. I was just about to pull out of the driveway," he explains, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "You want a me to drive you to class today?"

I push aside my feelings of guilt and manage a smile, "That'd be great."

Mr. Jones beams back brilliantly. He claps me on the back, which knocks me a bit off balance. Before I know it, he's guiding me into his passenger seat and asking me to hold his briefcase.

"Just let me text work to let them know I'm coming in later than normal," he adds while texting on his flip phone, "How are classes going, kiddo?"

I shrug off the question with a one-word answer. Now that everyone's forced to act like my dad, I get asked about my classes like twenty times a day. My thoughts drift, but Mr. Jones keeps up the conversation, lecturing me about good grades or something. I don't know how a guy who barely knows me can have so many opinions about my academics!

"You know what!" I cut him off just before he starts reminiscing on his own college years, "Just drop me off at this cafe."

Worry lines form on his forehead, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you the whole way?

"No. Just give me some cash."

Mr. Jones gives me a look of disappointment before shimmying his wallet out of his khakis. He counts off forty dollars and hands it over.

"Can I have a little more?" I press quietly.

Look, I know it's wrong to abuse this bizarre new dynamic between us, but I'm a poor college kid! If he doesn't want to give me his money, he can just say no. It's not like I'm holding a gun to his head!

"Sure thing, kiddo," he gives me a dry smile and pulls out a couple more twenties, "Don't spend it all in one place!"

"Ok, bye," I awkwardly announce and hop out.

"Wait!" his husky baritone calls from the car window, "You want a ride home after class?"

"Nope! Just go back to your own life," I yell stiffly. Even though I don't turn to watch him drive off, I hear his car pull away. It's just a car, but it somehow sounds disappointed in me too. I try to swallow the growing lump in my throat and step into the cafe for some much needed coffee...

"Morning, young man. What can I get you?"

The lump in my throat seems to get bigger when I see the waiter. He's a lot hotter of a man than I expected to find in this little cafe.

Already, the way he looks at me is shifting. That curse is transforming whatever thoughts he'd just had in his head. He's feeling more and more protective and responsible for me with every second he looks at me. At this point, I've grown accustomed to the mysterious effect I have on older guys. It's only been a few days, but I've seen so many random dudes go through this psychological transition. It's like they're discovering a new purpose in life: me.

"Uh yeah, I guess a cappuccino would be nice," I mutter with a dry mouth.

"You got it, young man!" he gives me a friendly wink, "Anything else I can get you?"

I know I shouldn't push my luck, but I can't help myself with this guy, "A hug would be nice! I've been feeling a bit isolated lately..."

The waiter instantly puts his pen and paper down and holds out his arms. His welcoming smile is gone, and a look of genuine concern waits for me, "Come here."

I practically leap into his arms, and he eagerly accepts me, pulling me into his chest like it's where I belong. It feels amazing to be held by this man, even if I don't know him at all. I could stay here all day if he'd let me.

"Seems like you're enjoying the hug," the waiter eventually chuckles into my ear.

For a second, I'm confused, but then I realize I'm fully erect and the waiter can definitely feel it poking into his waist.

"Sorry!" I jump back, searching for any other witnesses.

"Hey, don't be!" he assures me, "It's a completely normal part of life, ok?"

"You're not mad?" my voice comes out more timid than I expected, but I can't help myself. I just accidentally boned up someone who was trying to be nice. What makes it worse, is that he's probably only trying to be nice because of my ridiculous curse.

"Of course not," he affirms, "I can help you take care of it, if that's ok, young man?"

"What do you mean?" My face burns red hot.

"Oh, let me show you," he grabs me by the hand and leads me away from the table, "There's no need to be ashamed of any part of your body! In fact, this part can be a lot of fun."

I'm left speechless as the waiter gives me another fatherly wink, but I can't linger on what he's said. I'm being pulled into the men's restroom. I hear the click of the door locking behind us as he pulls me in front of the mirror, sliding up behind me. I can feel his chest on my back and his thighs against my ass.

If I was hard before, I'm practically bursting now!

"It's time you had the talk, young man," he calmly speaks in my ear like this is a completely normal thing for a waiter to do.

He starts droning on about men, women, sex, and where babies come from, but I'm not listening. I obviously know what sex is, and I think I'm having it right now. His hands slip under my arms and wrap around my waist to unzip my pants. My rock-hard cock bursts out of my jeans the second they're open, and a moan of surprised ecstasy fumbles over my lips just when the waiter gets to his point on male anatomy.

Does the waiter really believe a dad should do this for their sons?

He starts talking me through how to jack off. He must think I've never masturbated before, and I'm sure as hell not telling him that I have! Hearing him narrate every wrist movement, every ball tug, every nipple pinch is just too much fun! Before long, the waiter has me violently shooting on our reflections in the mirror.

"And there you go," he pats me on the back while I stand there stunned. The waiter steps back and looks at me like he's proud of the great life lesson he'd just taught me, "Now you know how to get rid of those boners of yours. Let me go get your coffee started."

I stand in the bathroom, collecting myself, as the waiter finally tends to my coffee order. This dad-curse the fortune teller gave me might be more fun than I originally thought. If I can get one daddy to randomly jack me off, then who knows what else I can do! Rushing out of the bathroom, I already have so many ideas flooding through my head...

"Excuse me, sir!"

"Sorry!" I shout.

In my excitement, I almost crash into the cafe's porter. A little less graceful, and I would have sent every single dish crashing to the floor. Glancing at the face of my would-be victim, I almost moan when I see get a good look at him. I can tell his head is already filling up with the same artificial need to be my father.

"No damage done," he assures me, lingering back to stare at me like I'm some lost puppy.

"Don't you...um...have to bus some tables or something," I breath nervously.

"Oh yeah," he frowns, "Sorry to get in your way."

He shakes his head like he's trying to lose the strange new thoughts in his brain. I stand there frozen like a deer in headlights as he walks away. He glances back at me before turning his attention to a cluttered table.

"Wait!" I yell, "Come back!"

The busboy drops the tub of dirty dishes and rushes back over like his life depends on it. The sight of this worried hunk running back to me makes me hard all over again.

I grab him and pull him into a hug, but his arms quickly take over and support me. Once again, my boner is rock hard and poking into the body of some random guy I just met!

"You have a car?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"You want to drive me around?"

"Of course!" he yanks off his apron and puts a hand on my back.

The waiter comes back around and hands me my coffee, looking at his coworker in utter confusion.

"Cover his shift," I demand, "He's driving me to school."

The waiter nods with an open mouth. He does look completely confused, but there's also a hint of jealousy in his stare. I think he's mad the busser gets to chauffeur me around: poor guy.

The porter doesn't seem bothered to be walking out of his job. He's busy smiling at me like I'm his whole world. I slide into his humble car and tell him where my class is. Before long, he's pulling out of the parking lot and driving me to school. I use our time to get to know him. I'm honestly not all that interested in learning about his life, but I do enjoy watching him talk. It doesn't take a while for us to get to campus, but before I get out I grab his hand and put on my best puppy dog eyes.

"I don't know when you get off work, but I'd love it if you came by my apartment. My roommate is trying to clean it up, but he could really use the help of someone more experienced."

"I love housework!" he just answers, "I'll be there!"

I snicker and slam the car door shut. I might be an hour late, but I'm finally here for class. It's time to give my professor a visit...

"Yeah, I can unbutton my shirt!"

My professor fell under my spell just as fast as the others. He had a look of anger when I walked in; probably from me skipping his class, but that expression quickly warped as he looked at me. Within seconds he was rounding his desk to give me a big old hug. Apparently, he "forgave" me for being so late.

"You like what you see?" he asks, gesturing to his hairy chest, "Trying to check out your old man?"

"You're my old man?" I ask, kind of surprised by the goofy smile on his face.

"Well, no," he bumbles, "But I am a strong male influence in your life! I'm like your dad!"

I nod my head like he's just made a really good point, "Oh. Then you probably want to treat me like your son. Right?"

"Yeah!" he holds his arms out to animate his enthusiasm.

Professor Reid has a reputation for being stiff and demanding in the classroom, so his new personality completely contradicts his true character. The man I know would never smile at a student, let alone bare his chest to them.

"So, I'm off the hook for missing today's class right?"

"Well," he pauses, "Sure."

"Can I skip the rest of the semester?"

"What, no. I want you to have a good education, my boy!"

I creep up to him and place my hands on his hairy torso, feeling the fur and the weight of his body. Professor Reid sure has a lot to hide under all those dress shirts he always wears.

"I'm just so lucky to have a daddy like you," I purr, "A daddy who's willing to do everything he can for me."

My professor grabs my arm and stares into my eyes. With a serious tone, "I am willing to do everything for you, my boy."

"Alright," I smile, "You should give me private lessons then..."

"What a great idea," he's back to grinning like an idiot.

"...and you should always do it in your underwear!"

"I can do that. From now on, I'll be stripped and ready before you come in!" He smiles at me like this is the best decision he's ever made in his life.

"Alright, now pull the rest of your clothes off," I command, "I want to see what the rest of my daddy looks like."

Mr. Reid doesn't hesitate to start stripping in front of his favorite student. I could probably get this guy to do anything now. I can already imagine our private lessons; me lounging in his leather armchair and him on his knees with his mouth full. Maybe that curse isn't a curse at all. Maybe it's actually a gift...

"Hey, buddy! How was class today?"

Josh looks tired from a long day of yardwork, but he still seems excited for me to come home. The lawn looks immaculate compared to our neighbors', and I have my roommate to thank for that.

"The grass looks great, dad."

"Dad! Woah!" Josh yells ecstatically, "Buddy, I can't tell you how much it means to hear you say that."

Josh sweeps me up in his arms. Apparently, it doesn't bother him to be the father figure of a guy only a few months younger than himself. It doesn't bother me anymore either. I kind of like that he smells like aftershave and bacon now instead of weed and sweat.

"Let's go inside, buddy. I'll cook something up for dinner," Josh says with a hand on my back. I'm already growing so accustomed to being guided around everywhere.

"Actually, I invited a guy to come over," I admit, "He can cook. You should relax. You got a lot of work done today, dad."

"I did, didn't I?" he smiles proudly, "Let me grab a beer, then. We can watch TV."

"Actually, I thought there might be something else you'd enjoy."

"You know me so well, buddy. What are you thinking?"

"You could bend over the couch..."

Josh cringes and shakes his head. Once again, it's like he's fighting the foreign thoughts entering his head.

"...I know how much you like to make me happy, and I really want to pound ass right now."

For a second, a look of horror flashes over his face, but it's gone in an instant. A bright fatherly smile spreads between his cheeks.

"That sounds perfect, buddy. Enjoy yourself."

Josh doesn't look away as he unbuttons his cargo shorts, smiling at me with love and devotion the entire time. He seems completely relaxed as he bends over the couch, and he only seems to become more comfortable as he spreads his cheeks apart.

Once again, I'm rock hard as I stare at one of my dads. This curse might have made me feel guilty before, but Josh said it himself.

I think I will enjoy myself.

Thanks for the ASK, Vebrendos

[steddielations]

Dom Steve Fic Recs

Strange as Angels (soft dom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie hasn't been able to get himself off in months, and now he's high, sweaty, and horny, thinking about the very man sitting in his room in nothing but a wife beater and a pair of tiny athletic shorts, and he thinks he might die. Steve notices. Of course, Steve fucking notices, what, with all the squirming Eddie's doing. Steve offers to help get Eddie off. As friends do. (As long as those friends are completely in love with each other.)

Like The Hero Who Never Ran (dom awakening series) by callmejude

While Steve and Dustin are searching for survivors, they're surprised to find Eddie alive, hiding out in Rick's cabin. Steve takes up the task of caring for him while staying in his trailer.

Genius Loci (dom bottom, magic steve) by @sayesayes

It’s 1986, and Steve falls in love with a boy who is leaving. It’s 1990, and Eddie comes back home. The fic where Steve is a selectively mute, homesteading, truck-driving witch with head injuries and also somehow it's canonverse.

(Don't) cream your pants (soft dom steve awakening series) by @corrodedbisexual

“Don’t know how to cream your pants, huh?” Steve asks, unable to conceal a smirk. He hears a quiet whine as Eddie seems to try and make himself disappear inside the couch. “Want me to show you how?”

Gilded (dom steve, blindfolds, ice play) by @cheshiredogao3

Steve and Eddie are looking forward to a weekend all to themselves, but it doesn’t go as planned.

Trouble Looks Good On You (wip, spanking, kink discovery) by me indelicate

It happens like a fever dream. The first time Steve gives Eddie a swift smack on the ass, it’s obviously just an old jock habit that’s stuck with him. It wasn’t meant to have Eddie’s knees going weak, or turn his blood hot under his skin, or give him a brand in the shape of Steve Harrington’s hand, or— Nope, because Eddie’s not even into that. But then, it happens again. Or, Steve keeps accidentally awakening Eddie’s new kinks.

You Make Me Feel Like I Am Whole Again (wip, dom top and dom bottom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie has never felt like his body belongs to him. It gets worse after he's nearly mauled to death, left with scars and healing wounds, a lopsided chest, and more trauma stacked on top of everything already wrong with him. Steve Harrington finds out Eddie's trans by accident after the bats, and Eddie finds out Steve's surprisingly okay with it. More than okay with it.

Bite Through These Wires (soft dom steve's strap game series 🤭) by @steves-strapcollection

“Wouldn’t you be Ken, though?” Steve had hoped Eddie would ask a question like that and he had to refrain from punching the air and ruining his punchline. “I come with all the coolest accessories, so clearly I’m still Barbie,” Steve retorted, his voice going just a bit deeper as he leaned closer to Eddie.

Relax (Lay it Back) (soft dom yoga instructor steve) by @wynnyfryd

Five times yoga instructor Steve teaches Eddie how to chill the fuck out, and the one time he learns his lesson.

Melt Me On Your Tongue (soft dom, bathing) by me indelicate

“This okay?” “Yeah it’s— shit, it’s more than okay, Steve.” “… you’re crying, Eds.” Eddie can’t hold back a choked off noise then, somewhere between an overwhelmed laugh and a sob. “No one’s ever done this to me before.” He doesn’t know if he means no one’s ever given him a bath, or braided his hair, or just any of the things Steve does for him, really. Eddie's never had a Steve before.

Kiss Me (Beneath the Milky Twilight) (pleasure dom steve, virgin eddie) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Eddie has never been kissed. Steve apparently would very much like to volunteer to fix this.

Getting Lost in the Dark is My Favorite Part (wip, masochist virgin eddie, kink discovery) by queerontilmorning

After his near-death experience, Eddie decides it's time to get rid of his pesky virginity and heads to a gay bar. It leads to some... realizations... for both him and Steve.

You're a Sweet Shot of Kerosene (When I Threw it Back, it Poisoned Me) (wip, mob boss steve) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Whatever fucked up shit Eddie’s father had inadvertently roped him into simply by being what he was — a shit-stain excuse for a sperm donor who preferred sticking a needle in his arm to taking care of his family — well, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about to be him that pays that price. And maybe Eddie’s delirious, because by the time it’s apparently his turn and they’re dragging him down some hallway (and yeah, it’s not like Eddie’s not trying to put up a fight, but it feels almost performative at this point considering he’s pretty much hogtied here), the only real thought he has when they deposit him on yet another cold, wet tile floor is this: Uncle Wayne is gonna be so pissed at me if I get shot in the head tonight.

closer to you (soft dom steve) by @natesfwl

“C’mon baby, where's my little rockstar?” Steve spanks him, groans when he feels Eddie tense up around him from the impact, “Perform for me.” “You let me penetrate you” Eddie stutters out the line as he lifts himself up with his knees. “There you go,” Steve whispers, watching as Eddie fights to keep his eyes locked onto Steve’s when he sinks back down. or the really self-indulgent fic of steddie fucking to the song closer by NIN.

Destroy The Silence (drummer steve) by @artaxlivs

Steve becomes the drummer for Corroded Coffin and Eddie can't handle his thirst

Trouble and Temptation (series wip, businessman dilf steve) by @heartharps

“Come on, Harrington. I’d lay you badly but I’d lay you gladly.” When Steve looked up, he was glaring, as stern and serious as ever. “Eddie, let me remind you that as far as I'm concerned, nothing has ever happened between us other than of a professional nature.”

Sting, and Other Brainworms (series with switching) by @riality-check

“Do you need to go down, baby?” Eddie gets like this, sometimes. Stuck between overwhelmed and incredibly bored. Steve watches until he remembers that they have a way to fix this. Eddie calls it a hard reset. Steve calls it fucking him until he can’t see straight.

Edification (sadist steve) by aristal

“Alright Munson.” She bares her teeth and grins like a wolf. “Tell the class: what’s your biggest sexual fantasy?” A slow smile creeps into his features, and his dark eyes flash. “Oh, you’re asking the good questions, Wheeler.” He takes another long pull of his joint, dragging the moment out for dramatic effect. Steve doesn’t care. He wants to know the answer. He needs to know. Eventually, Eddie blows out the smoke, eyes a little hazy as he grins at the ceiling. “I’ve always liked the idea of being slapped around and choked in someone’s car.”

In My Boxers, Half Stoned (dom bottom Steve) by eddywow

"You can," Eddie said, almost sounding like he was nodding along to his words. The image was too pure for Steve. "You could say anything you want to me and I'd- I think I'd be into it. Because I saw your pics and like, I know your face isn't in them but- but I really like them. Is it okay that I liked them?"

Insatiable (public, skirts, cages) by @cheshiredogao3

When their club ritual is rudely interrupted, Steve and Eddie make a point of proving their bond—rather publicly.

Done Deal (series with switching) by @morningberriesao3

Steve Harrington doesn't have any money with him, so he offers to pay Eddie Munson some other way.

Lovebite (sub vampire eddie) by hellcore

It shouldn’t feel so good, being tasted.

* The next few don't have the tag but in my opinion they have dom Steve vibes and I want to include them here (:

Cyclical (wip, time loop fic, rimming, switching, lots of smut with plot) by @cuips-not-cute

steve keeps finding himself back in the boathouse where everything started, wrapped up in the arms of a boy who can’t stop dying. he's desperate to rewrite the timeline, trying everything he can think of to fix it. including falling in love.

Dirty Words by @morningberriesao3

Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

Memorize My Number, That's Why I Got A Phone (phone sex) by queerontilmorning

while on tour with Corroded Coffin, Eddie makes an important phone call to Steve.

My Right Hand Man (spanking, kink discovery) by @entanglednow

In which movie night takes an unexpected turn, and it's surprisingly easy to just let it happen.

Shot Right Through (pierced eddie) by @entanglednow

Steve overhears a conversation between Eddie and Robin, and then spends a few weeks trying to think of anything else.

Pleased To Meet You (demon steve) by midnightdrive

Eddie accidentally summons a demon who is bound to fulfill his every wish. He, somehow, gets more than he had bargained for.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not putting a bell on my cat?

Cw for discussion of animal death and injury in vague terms.

So I live in a neighborhood with a lot of stray/outdoor cats. In fact, it's sorta that way all over the city. A few weeks ago as of writing this, I picked up a stray because I saw that it had an open wound on its neck; since it was amicable to being handled I decided to take it to the vet to be treated (and neutered, since I'd already gotten hold of it and obviously we don't need more strays.)

Recently, my cat of 15 years (we had him for 15 years, he was about 17-18 though) passed of old age, so I wasn't expecting my family to be willing to take a new cat in so soon. We even still have most of his stuff, so I figured it would be a matter of keeping the stray indoors until it was healed, then letting him go about his business. We all ended up getting attached over his two weeks of recovery though (if anyone is curious, it was a burst absess. While he was there we got him vaccinated and checked for other problems. Aside from ear mites, he was fine) so we got him a microchip, named him, and that was that.

My previous cat was also a rescue, though we picked him up from a shelter. At the time we also had a dog and a dog door, so keeping him inside would have been a logistical struggle we just... didn't care to bother with. By the time the dog passed, he'd had access to the outside for years and we saw no reason to suddenly cut him off from that. We obviously had to keep this new cat completely inside while his staples were in, but the plan was always to open up the dog door once he was healed and let him decide where he wanted to be. I don't like taking care of a litter box, my dad doesn't like the smell of cat, 3/4ths of the house is allergic (though that didn't stop us before), and this cat is much younger than our previous was, and has much more energy (vet estimated him at 6mo-1yr). At the beginning of last week (again, as of writing this) I got the go-ahead from the vet to let him outside and gladly did so. He hasn't gotten the hang of the dog door yet (our previous had the advantage of watching the dog go through to learn how to do it) but will go through open doors/windows and will return to the door or enter through the window if it's still open.

With context out of the way here comes the trouble: our neighbors. Our house is on the corner of the block and to our left is a house that takes tenants every so often. They've been here for as long as I (22m) have been alive and have been a nucance for probably longer than that. Their yard is atrocious, they planted bamboo that grew under the fence and into our property, and the woman who owns the house (presumably. Her husband might but I've never spoken to him) apparently has some moral issue with outdoor cats.

Sometime into owning our previous cat, she suddenly became very concerned with the bird population and insisted that we collar our cat and get him a bell so that he wouldn't catch birds. I'd like to point three things out: 1) our previous cat only had one eye, 2) we had tried to collar him before and he lost every single one so we gave up (breakaway collars so he didn't choke, 3) he caught birds despite both of these facts. Needless to say, I was not fucking thrilled about unsolicited advice from a woman I'd never spoken to, who let her unmitigated mess of invasive plants invade my garden, but whatever. She spoke to my little (10yro) sister about it at the time, only once, and never to me, so it wasn't an issue.

So I let this new cat out, right? I opened the dog door for him and he waltzed right on out, but I wasn't convinced he really knew how to operate it. About an hour or so without hearing him come in, I head through the back door to look for him. I got him from a different neighborhood, across town, while visiting a friend, so I figured I was allowed to be a little worried about him getting lost or overwhelmed. As soon as I step out onto the porch, the neighbor-lady calls over and asks me if my cat got out or I let it out.

I tell her I let him out. She asks me to put a bell on him. In an attempt to remain civil I ask her why. She says something about it being stupid, I ask her why it's stupid, she says cats eat birds and the bird populations are declining. I instantly want to call bull on cats being a leading reason of bird population decline, but I just tell her that I'll have to look that up, and ask her if she saw which way he went. (I'd like my restraint during this interaction noted, thanks.)

Anyway I don't find the cat but I get a good few patrols around the block, and eventually he comes back to the house sometime in the late-night early-morning. He does not use the dog door and waits for me to open the door instead (back door is on the way to the bathroom, I saw his stupid little face pressed against the glass when i went to piss).

I look up bird population decline articles. Most of them mention cats as a factor, along with clear windows. Primary factors are listed as deforestation and invasive species, pesticides, etc. I don't consider getting my cat a collar because I don't appreciate my neighbors input, especially when she's going to be hypocritical and ignore that planting native species may help bird population more than putting out fifty fucking feeders and complaining that the stray cats see her yard as a buffet. Anyway.

I let him out again yesterday, this time through the window in my room, which leads to the back porch. I felt comfortable leaving it open since I work at my desk and would hear if anything not-cat came inside. (Allergies were a problem, but I'd really rather he have a way to get inside if he wanted/needed, and he STILL will not open the dog door on his own. Obviously I'm not helping by continuing to give him alternatives but I am soft-hearted.) Sometime in the evening my dad comes in and tells me that when the cat next comes back, I should keep him inside because "The neighbor lady is being a bitch and I don't want to deal with it." I assume she said something to him, so I agree and when the cat comes in for the night I close the window.

This morning I saw what had ACTUALLY got him.in a twist, because not only did she say something but she printed out and taped a note to our door. Oh, how I would love to send a picture of it here, but I don't know how to embed photos in asks so you'll just have to deal with my transcription:

CAT FACTS

Cats kill birds. Cars kill cats.

Here's some links to look up.

[I won't type the links out. First one is an article titled "how long do outdoor cats live indoor vs outdoor cats" and the second is "faq cats and their effects on birds". I have not read either of these.]

Ask Kelly about Dixie. Ask Jean about Madeline - wait don't - she ran over her with her own car and broke her pelvis because the cat was older and couldn't hear well.

You have a very beautiful young cat. He deserves a safe loving home. Act like you care for your cat or give him to a home that will. I have four indoor cats - three are orange boys. I have a soft spot for orange boy cats. They are very happy as inside cats.

Be responsible.

[Handwritten at the bottom:]

Your cat is sleeping in my backyard. Why are you forcing him to be an outdoor cat!?

[End]

The amount of violent rage this fills me with is unreal. Kelly is our across-the-road neighbor, I assume Jean is another neighbor (I'm bad with names) and I CANNOT imagine that either of them appreciate being. Used like this. Also, I'm very glad her cats are happy indoors but this cat is not, he wants to go outside, he has been crowding the window all morning waiting for me to open it. (I respect me father so I won't, but I disrespect my neighbor so I really, REALLY fucking want to.)

So AITA for disregarding the safety/happiness of my cat and the decline of the bird population by not putting a collar on him and heartlessly forcing him outside? I'm no further inclined to force him indoors or get a collar, especially with her continued insistence, and in fact I'm so far making an active effort to restrain myself from going over and talking to her because I just want to turn it into an argument.

[undermine-the-instinct]

Can't Sleep Love

CW: Somnophilia(F! receiving), Oral(M! and F! receiving), Knotting (M), edging/orgasm denial(M! receiving), multiple orgasms( M! and F! receiving), FLUFF, NEUVILLETE IS SWEETHEART, Petnames ( love, dear, dearest,my love, etc), reader is called princess once, Smut (obviously), Husband!Neuvillette, AFAB reader, fem reader (Reader wears a dress and heels, and has a vagina and breasts), dirty talk, praise, Neuvillette is a service top leaning towards a sub, reader is a switch, Neuvillete is prim and proper--so he's clutching his pearls, sorta scandalized when reader talks nasty. Inexperienced(??Neuvillette hasn't had anyone else as a bed partner so he's still kinda new?), Reader calls him 'Villette'.

Wc: 5.3K Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Cropped art. Original art belongs to @sviteer . Support the artist please.

Neuvillette cherishes the quiet moments, like these, more than anything else.

You're both tired, you moreso, from a date night out. A lovely candlelit dinner followed by a play at the opera house. And though he held your hand through your sniffles and nodded his head sympathetically throughout the play, you knew immediately what was up when you both stepped out of the opera house to a light sprinkle.

You smiled at him, knowingly, charmingly, reaching forwards to press your lips to his cheek. And just like that the stars were out again.

And now you're home, in the bedroom, on the master bed. You fell down onto it as soon as you entered the room and haven't moved yet, even after he's exited the bathroom. It's late, after all.

Half asleep and dozing, your hands are half curled by your head, and a smile paints your face, sweet and blasé.

You are so beautiful.

He's going to take care of you.

The heels unclasp with hardly a sound; pretty little blue things you bought to match him, you had said. The dress and everything else however, he bought for you.

It makes something in his chest curl, as he carefully shimmies off your heels, as he drags his hands under the hem of your skirt to unclasp your garter belts, rubbing away the indents left there. Old, possessive feelings he thought he'd outgrown long ago.

But you are in his bed, wearing the clothes he bought for you, looking so soft and sweet there, as he rests his head on the soft plush of your thighs, breathing you in and trying not to shake with the urge to just grab you.

You always evoke these sorts of emotions from him. Something he once thought he could never understand, something to be repressed, for its unsightliness; You hold it all all up to the light and don't even flinch.

You give a little half sigh, and Neuvillette relents.

He slides your thighs apart, slowly, nudging closer to your core, swiping his long tongue over the fabric of your panties. Smooth silk and a lace pattern, the seam of your womanhood he can all  feel, but he wants to taste.

They slip off easily like they are meant to, and soon enough Neuvillette is lapping at you, smooth wet glides along your inner folds. Slick gathers under his tongue while you sigh and gasp above him, and he groans into your skin, pressing himself closer, spreading your thighs further.

"Neuvillette…? What are you, oh, archons ...." Now that won't do, he lifts his head from your skin, mouth smeared in slick, and clicks his tongue at you.

"I want to hear only my name from your lips, dear. I'm the one here with you, after all." And just the thought of them hearing; Focalor would act smug and pester him to no end, so no need. This was none of her concern nor business.

"How long have I been asleep?" 

"Not nearly long enough. I was hoping I could get you to climax whilst you still slept. Alas," he lowers himself back down, "I guess I can try another time."

He takes off his gloves, spreads your folds with his fingers and spits on your cunt, once, twice, spreading it with his tongue, before slipping a finger into your tight hole. He groans into your pussy when he feels how you flutter, the moan that leaves your lips as you fall back into the covers.

You taste sweet. It must be from the desert you had earlier. 

He thrusts his finger, feeling you clench around it, and he opens his mouth wider to have more of you, alternating between slipping his tongue in your hole alongside his fingers and sucking on your clit. Your hands fly to his hair and tug; the scalp by his horns sensitive, and heat curls in his stomach, hips twitching into a half thrust. He moans deeply, like a rumble around your clit, and you come with a cry.

He doesn't let go. He thrusts his fingers in deeper, sucking harshly around your clit, swallowing everything you have to offer. Your hands are buried in his hair, and he's practically wearing your thighs like earmuffs; the soft, thin fabric of your stockings tickle his ears, the points no doubt flushed like the rest of his face.

You came quickly, you must have been pent up. He presses a last kiss to your clit before he rises, smoothing his fingers out of you slowly– his composure threatens to snap with the happy, flushed look on your face, the way his fingers are almost pruned with how wet you are.

He licks his lips and he can still taste you, the tang of your orgasm something he could rip people apart for.

Hm. He should act with more restraint. This is not very becoming for the Chief of Justice.

But rather fitting for your husband.

Your legs snake around his hips as you draw him in, he lets you, your hands reaching to cup his face, pressing him into an open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue laps up the mess you made and he chases it with his own, you smile at the mess of it all.

"You're supposed to close your eyes when you kiss," you murmur sweetly, opening your eyes.

"And miss those precious few seconds of seeing you? I could never."

"Oh love, come now, you're going to make me blush if you keep teasing me." Yes, tease that you are, he gives a sharp nip at the thumb you swipe over his bottom lip, a pleased hum in his chest as he looks at you and you giggle.

"Good. I'd like to do much more than that."

"Oh, but of course, I'm all yours." His large hands smooth over your thighs and hips, inching the lace and ruffles of your skirt higher up.

"It's not too much?"

"I'll let you know if it is. Come now," and you tug him closer.

"I want you to make love to me."

You unbutton his top half, untie his cravat, slip the fabric of his suit over his shoulders till his skin is bare to your touch. Cool blue lines, some bold, some thin, breaking waves over the planes of his body. 

He stops your hands as you start to undress, half exposed you are already.

"It's fine. Leave it on."

"Oh? Does the Chief of Justice have a thing for half dressed debauchery?"

"Perhaps I do. Would you be willing to indulge me?" Your smile stays yet your blush deepens when he tugs down his pants and briefs, his member hard and dripping already.

"Surely you'd allow me to remove this much, it's so hot already," you whine as you strip, just enough that the fabric is over your shoulders and bunched under your breasts, nipples half hard in the low lamp light. 

His mouth waters. He mouths at your shoulder, nipping marks onto your collarbone. He feels the hitch of your breath when he slides his cock through the slick folds of your pussy, the tremble of your thighs.

"Hm? Do you like this?" He makes sure to slide his cock all along your walls, smearing himself with the fluids of your orgasm, catching himself on the rim of your hole.

"Is this good enough for you Princess?" He pulls back, taking himself in hand, slapping the fat head of his cock against your clit, a slight growl in his chest when you cry out.

"No…"

"No? How greedy. What else can I do for you, my love? Hm?" He slaps your clit again, and once more, and you whimper, delicious.

His other hand moves, cupping your breast, squeezing and massaging, pinching the hardened nipple.

"Or do you prefer this, my love?" He breathes before popping the other breast into his mouth, gently suckling, rolling the bud in his mouth.

You groan, hands coming up to his hair and pulling him face to face with you, stroking over the ponts of his ears and making him shiver.

"I prefer it when you're inside." You kiss him, silky smooth, and he shudders into your mouth, slipping his tongue inside of you. 

He slides his cock along your puffy, petal soft folds, and starts pressing himself inside. You can probably feel the stretch because you groan again, telling him to hurry the hell up.

But he's not going to hurt you with his…considerable length. He ruts into you, one slow inch at a time, till you're softer and he's seated fully. He doesn't stay still though, he grinds into you, slow enough you can open up more and get used to the feeling.

He feels the skin at the base of his cock tighten, a telltale sign of his knot beginning to swell. He has to remind himself to breathe, and focus on you.

He thrusts, but stops when you wince, feeling you tighten around him, slick and hot, so tight he's not sure whether you're clamping down on him or trying to push him out. 

"Relax,relax my love, or was it too soon?" You shake your head, sighing as you try to force your walls to soften. You must be worked up, extra sensitive from your last orgasm. 

"I-I'm fine…"

"Are you sure?" He moves again, tentative. Your eyes roll at the stretch, hands scratching at his arms and chest. He can feel how slick you are and sighs, tossing his head back.

"Yes, just go, move, please, please…"

He starts to move, fucking himself into you, hissing when you clench around him. His hands fall to the soft fat of your thighs, dimpling in his grip when he slides them further apart, angling his hips to reach deeper.

You whine, and he can feel how slick you are, feel you gushing as he slides over that spot that has you cringing away.

He lifts a thigh, over his shoulder, so he can fuck into you harder, hitting that one spot so he can feel you gush around him. He thrusts and you breathe in time, your pretty face flushed and your pretty tits bouncing with how he's fucking you, deep and fast. His cock jumps when you whine out his name.

He feels a bit stupid like this. Or rather, undone. His mind stalls, thoughts dripping slow and sweet like molasses. Your tight, warm cunt pulling him in, squeezing like a vice around him. He can't help thinking about anything else, can't help the harsh snap of his hips, the way he grinds into you.

You cry when as he does so, the length of him is no longer a problem with how wet you are, his cockhead just kissing that spot that will no doubt have you seeing stars, the slap of skin on skin loud and wet.

Your hands scramble in the sheets so he holds them down for you, entwining his fingers with yours. It helps ground him. And you smile up at him, tilting your chin up for a kiss. He indulges you, as he always has, sweet thing you are.

He's looming over you, fucking into you, deep and eager. You sigh, the drag of his cock, a hot rush of pleasure every time he fills you up. He gasps your name and you whimper in reply.

"Doing so good…Fucking me so well love." The air stutters in his chest, and he can feel his knot swell, the praise going right to his dick.

"You're so beautiful." You hum in reply, the sound so smooth and pleased it's almost a purr.

"Yeah? I am?"

"Yes, you are," he chuckles, dark and low.

"So beautiful. I'm going make you cum again, just like this, okay? You deserve it."

He's not…very experienced at this, but, for you he tries. The bulb at the base of his dick is thick and inflated, half slipping inside your cunt with every snap of his hips.

"I’m gonna cum, I'm gonna cum soon…"

"That's good, you can cum. You can cum darling, I've got you." His knot doesn't fit inside you just yet exactly, but feeling your cunt try to to take him still has his mouth watering, hips twitching out of rhythm.

His teeth drift along your collarbone, before he bites down, and you clamp on his cock and cum around him. He fucks you through it while you make a mess of the sheets, hands scrambling at his back. A growl rips itself out his throat, his teeth still buried in your flesh, marking you.

Your leg kicks out, and Neuvillette lets you yank yourself away, curling into yourself with the force of your orgasm. His hand holds his cock, his knot throbbing almost painfully, firing a heated rod in his belly. A hiss escapes his gritted teeth, while he reigns himself back in. it would’ve been nice if you could’ve taken all of him, but this was about you, not him.

His hands move to your belly, your legs and sides, soothing you and reminding you to breathe through your cries. You gasp out his name in soft pants, brow furrowed and thighs trembling. 

Slowly you uncurl from your little ball, like a flower, Neuvillette thinks, as you open yourself up to him. Your skin is blushed, from your face to your chest, ruddy and ruined.

Beautiful.

"Are you alright dear? Anything you need at all?" With a hum and a soft 'no', you wrap your arms around his neck so he can pull you up and into his lap. He tries to pay no heed to his still hard cock between the both of your bodies, thick and dripping.

"Are you satisfied, dearest?"

"Mhm…" You press lazy kisses to his jaw and he smiles, smoothing a hand over your hair.

"That's good then."

"Hmm…but what about you?"

"I'm alright dear." You roll your hips down and he groans, hips twitching up. He has to grab your waist to stop you from moving, ignoring when you whine.

"I said… I said it's alright dear." 

"But you didn't get to cum. Please?"

"Making love is not about reaching an orgasm." You pout, teary eyed and pitiful. 

"But I want to make you feel good, you do this far too often as is."

He smiles and noses your jaw, the soft skin beneath your ear and the marks he left lower.

"I'm satisfied just pleasing you dearest. I don't need much else."

You try to wiggle your hips down onto hips but he still has that steel grip on you; You whine and paw at his chest.

"Villette–!"

"You don't have to worry about pleasing me love," he pulls you down as he lays back, pulling you flush against him. Affection is warm in his chest, making his words honey and humored. 

"I'm more than fine with just this. Pleasing you is enough for me."

"Well not for me," you grumble. You pout, but then your eyes light up in a realization. He trails his hand down your spine while you think, undoing a few buttons while he's at it to feel more of your skin.

"You know…"

"Yes, love?"

"I like it when you make love to me like this Villette."

"I do too." He kisses your cheek, feeling you smile.

"You always make sure I'm satisfied."

"Of course."

"But you know what I like better?" 

"What is that, love?"

"When you cum." He sighs in exasperation, but fond when you turn his face back towards you.

"I'm being serious! That's when I'm most satisfied." 

"Well, it seems we're both in the habit of preferring to please the other."

"Hm…no. It's more selfish on my end."

"Oh? How so?" He swipes his thumb over your soft cheek, feeling you melt in his hands, putty. Your smile is more mischievous and sultry than sweet, however.

"Well, I just love it when you cum inside me, when you fill me up and fuck it all back into me when it spills out."

Your voice goes low and he swallows thickly, frowning.

"Don't be so crude dear."

"Who else am I to share my desires with if not my husband? Would you rather me go to someone else?"

"Of course not." Don't be daft, he wants to tell you. Just the idea has his hands tensing, his mouth twitching, ready for a snarl. How possessive he feels over you. How right it feels to be so. But, he knows you're just teasing him. 

And you know it's working. Your smile is coy, as you move to take off your dress. He helps you and soon you are as bared to him as he is for you. 

You make a sight, sitting in his lap with nothing but your stockings and mussed hair, his cock stiff along your thigh.  Your earrings catch the light, twinkling like stars.

You take the hands he has on your hips and draw them up your body, drawing them up to your face where you kiss into his open palms, sighing.

"I love you." His breath catches in his throat, sticky and thick.

"I love you. And I want you. I want all of you."

"...You have me dearest." His voice goes low, soft enough that it's just a rumble in his chest. You slide your hands down his torso, lightly dragging your nails and he trembles.

"Then let me make you feel good? Please?" Your hands go below his hips, rubbing circles into his skin when he shudders.

"Love, love you don't have to–"

"Please? I want to." You lean, to whisper in his ear.

"I want to feel you. I want all of you. I want you to cum inside me and I want your knot and I want you to fuck me, Villette. Please?"

"...You are so vulgar."

"But you love me anyways?"

He groans, covering his eyes, tossing his head back and you grin at the surrender. 

Your hands come around his cock, and he gives a little half-aborted thrust into your hands. He had swelled down some in the aftercare, but he felt the growing heat in his groin and sighed, a mutter under his breath.

You have to use both your hands to wrap around his girth, your thumb just under the head of cock, pressing down on a vein there. He snarls, softly, and moves to cover your hands with his own.

"...Tighter. And faster. Like this." Your hands are so small compared to his, as he shows you. Soon you’re stroking his length, wet clicks every time you pump down, squeezing around his knot and twisting your hand around the red head of his cock, digging the pad of your finger into his dripping slit.

He bites down on his lip, tossing his head back onto the pillows. His thighs shake, and he can see the dark red tip of his shaft, wet and shiny. He wondered how much of the slick is leftover from when he was inside you. How slick it'll be when you're finished with him.

"You are so pretty, you know that?" You catch his attention with a harsh pump, twisting your hand down around his knot. His breath catches.

"When you're like this, with your pretty face and your pretty thighs and your pretty cock making such a mess in my hands. I love it." His dick jumps in your hand and he clicks his tongue at you.

"Sweet talker."

"But you like it! You're blushing, look," and your mouth curves dangerously. 

"Even your cock is blushing." He hisses your name but you laugh, moving off his lap to lay between his thighs. 

You open your mouth and let your tongue loll out. A thick bead of spit falls, right onto his tip, and you quickly gather that and spread it over his cock. He has no time to wonder what you're going to do, because you duck your head, taking one of his balls into your mouth.

You run your tongue over the delicate skin, suckly softly, before slurping the other into your mouth. His hand comes and twists into the hair of your nape and you hum, just to feel him shudder.

You move up, to the thick vein on the underside of his shaft. You drag your tongue slowly along the path of it, taking just the tip of him into your mouth. You make sure he's looking at you as you suckle softly, and when he tugs at your hair you start in earnest.

He's too big for you to take him in one swallow, so you work yourself, inch by inch. He helps you, using your hair as an anchor and rocking into your mouth, slowly, till his knot slips inside and you can feel him twitching at the back of your throat. 

It's a stretch, as usual. He's so big and so good you can't help moaning around him, high and needy, and he breaks.

His hips snap back and he slams into your mouth with a growl. You moan again and he curses under his breath, tilting your head for a better angle when he thrusts again.

He picks up rhythm, and the smooth glide of his cock on your tongue has you moaning and rubbing your thighs together, slick gathering. You want him inside, you want him to fuck you again, but more than that you want him to cum. Hard.

You don't think he's going to last long, anyways. He never has, the few times he's let you do this. Even now, his rhythm is sloppy as he fucks into your mouth, his moans going breathy and high. But that's fine, you want him like this, so you meet every thrust, sucking harder, hollowing out your cheeks and taking him as far as he can go. 

He tugs at your hair again, and you look up, meeting his eyes,the  pupils blown out and mouth open in a pant.You make sure yours are wide in faux innocence; Even fluttering your lashes when he bucks into your hot mouth again, rolling your eyes back a little. He snarls, and you feel his cock jump, the first hot spurts of cum on landing on your tongue. But before you could swallow he pulls you off, a slick pop when he leaves your mouth.

A dark growl snarls out from his clenched teeth, but he holds you in place, not letting you sink back onto him.

"Neuvillette!!" You're mad. What the hell?! Why would he do that? Not only did he pull you off of him, robbing you of his taste, he ruined his own orgasm!

His teeth are still barred, pupils blown dark and wide, diamond shaped. His chest falls and rises in harsh pants, a bit of drool at the corner of his lips, red and bitten, kiss swollen. He looks wild.

"Didnt…I didn't climax yet."

"What?"

"I didn't cum. I'm, I’m holding it..."

"Wait, what? Why?" Why? You want to demand your answers, you want him back in your mouth or your cunt, but he moves before you do.

His hand is still on your nape, and he doesn't talk, just uses it to drag you up and over his body, so he can kiss you. His tongue sweeps the wet cavern of your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue, the roof of your mouth, your canines.

He lays back, pulling you on top of him, while you hook your leg around his waist. His hand comes under your thigh, spreading you farther as he slips inside, splitting you on the first few inches of his cock. You clap onto him, sensitive still from your last two orgasms.

You rock your hips, trying to slip more and more of him inside your quivering cunt, eager and impatient. He throws his head back, exposing the pretty line and bob of his adams apple, when he feels his knot catch the rim of your entrance, the way you try to suck him in.

"Dont….Don't force yourself-"

"I can take it," you cut him off, and fuck if that doesn't make his belly tighten.

"I can take it, just help me." He meets your rocking with shallow thrusts of his own, slipping further inside you, a rush of warmth every time you gasp when he enters. 

You gasp when his knot slips past your entrance, he can feel you stretch to accommodate him and waits for you to adjust, trying to ignore the urge to just buck up into you, ans swallow everything you have to offer. He can wait.

But you’re not that patient. You lean against him and bury a whine into his shoulder when you start to move; bouncing up and down on his cock, not that he lets you go far. Neuvillette's hands clamp onto your waist, pulling you down to meet his thrusts everytime you come back down.

You can feel him, his cockhead hitting that gummy spot with every thrusts, making you shiver, eyes rolling back a little. You can feel his knot too, massaging into your walls, thick and tender. You're going to cum soon, like this.

He doesn't let you do this often. You're going to milk it for all its worth.

You give that breathless smile you know makes his heart flutter, and start whispering the things that come to your mind, the thoughts you had this evening.

How pretty he looks under you, flushed and barely holding onto decorum. How pretty he’ll look when he comes inside of you. How you've been wanting to have him all night; perhaps sneaking away and tasting him during dinner, have him fuck your mouth so you can swallow him down. Or maybe even in the opera house, in the darkness behind the curtains, have him feel how slick you were even then, how tender and eager you are.

"How lewd." He berates you, frowning but you smile wider, moaning when he traces over a sweet spot of yours, his hips drawing magic figure eights that have you gushing around him.

"Hm? And yet…you're the one fucking into me right now." You flutter your walls and he groans, but if anything, he moves faster, jaw tight like a bowstring.

You trace the line of his throat and he swallows, looking up at you where you are with just the slightest vexation, a scolding. He can't hide the desperation gleaming there though.

"Don't pretend," he hisses when you tighten, rolling his hips to get you to soften, "that I'm doing you a favor."

"But you are. I want you just like this my love." With a nudge you press him further down into the sheets, his wide eyes shot with pleasure and awe.

Your voice turns tender, sweet.

"I want you all flushed and pretty, and fucking your knot into me till you fill me up with your cum, okay?"

"Oh fuck," you feel him twitch inside you and shudder, lifting your hips and bouncing down on him, pulling his hair a little. 

You move, sliding off of him with a slick pop, before slamming back down in a single thrust, arching your back in that way you know he likes. His hands scramble at your back, a moan wracking in his chest.

"Love you, love you, ah fuck I love you," you moan against his mouth, the messy sweep of his tongue. You grind down just to feel his knot tighten inside of you, fluttering your walls. His back arches off the bed, and he cums with a sharp gasp. 

He doesn't let you slip off of him; He presses tight against your cervix, hot spurts of cum painting your womb white. You whimper, just teetering that edge, caught on his knot and unable to move.

His belly twitches under you, breath hot and labored. A tortured moan leaves his throat as you move again, chasing your own pleasure, desperate. You smooth the hair back from his forehead, just to see the ruddy fucked out look on his face better.

“So fucking pretty. So, so good to me. Can I keep going? Just a little more, alright?” You run your hands down the planes of his chest, lean like a swimmer but more built, the quivering skin of his belly, happy trail wet with sweat and fluids.

"Please, please, let me just–" You start to slip him inside but he moves for you, laying you both on your sides and snapping his hips snug against yours. The new angle has him hitting that spot with perfect accuracy, and you gush around him, back arching. He stifles down something that sounded half whimper, half moan, and bucks into you like an animal in heat.

It's filthy, loud and wet, the way he fucks you, and so out of character for him that you’d get whiplash, if you could think of anything other than the tight curl of heat in your belly, the way your orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave.

He rolls you onto your back and slides his mouth over yours to swallow your cries, his hands scrambling everywhere-your knee, your tummy, your hips and breasts and shoulders, possessive little touches. You soak the sheets, and he rolls himself into you to tide you over, murmuring reassurances into your mouth, sliding his knee on the soft skin of your thigh. He came again, you can feel how full you are, it probably would’ve been leaking out if his knot wasn’t acting like a sort of plug. He throbs inside, pumping his hips in a sloppy rhythm.

When it wanes you groan, smoothing your hands down the column of his spine. He moves to your neck and chest, nibbling and sucking marks into your skin.

“Hm…That was nice.” You wince when he slips out, and yeah, you can feel his cum rush out of you, the feeling is too open and not welcome.

“You certainly let loose. You must have been pent up, huh?”

“Oh shush you,” He kisses along your jaw and cheek, seeking out affection. Your foot slides along his calf, soothing, calming him down.

”Still, we should do this more often.”

“You’ll be spoiled if I indulge you too much. It’s best we show restraint.”

“Hm, I could see your point. But, if we do this more often we can get to the point where I can take your knot more easily and–” He kisses you to cut you off, and before you can reply he has you scooped up in his arms, sliding off the bed and heading towards the bath.

“Your mouth is so vulgar; I don't understand how your mouth filters out everything but the obscene.”

“It's one of my charms. Do you not find me charming, love?” He gives you a look, up and down, and you realize you probably look a bit more than charming; Flushed and covered in his marks, his spent still leaking from your cunt. You still lift an eyebrow, waiting for your answer.

He sighs, setting you on the lip of the tub, reaching behind you to fill it. You brush his hair back from his neck as he leans in, just to press a kiss there.

“Yes. I find you charming and lovely and alluring, beautiful and damning. Though, I hope to find you clean and resting in my arms, in our bed tonight. Can we have that, my dear? I want nothing more.” 

“Well,” you know you’re blushing, like a schoolgirl with a crush, and not someone who just made love with their husband. How silly. “If you insist.” You flutter your lashes at him and he smiles, fond and adoring, rolling his eyes and pressing his lips to your temple. Your heart warms.

“I love you, Villette.”

“I love you as well. Most ardently and wholeheartedly.” 

[shadow4-1]

(Part 2 of this post.)

After letting Soap set everything up, on his next leave of absence, Ghost finally gets to meet the plus size escort he's been having fantasies about.

However, she's only interested in laying down some ground rules.

-

To show he was serious, for their first meeting she made Ghost rent out the smoking section of a privately owned Café. It's a quaint little joint; part bookstore, part coffee shop. Cost him less than two hundred quid for the whole hour. Ghost likes the privacy and the better service - his coffee cup hasn't gone unfilled. He wonders why he's never thought of doing it before. Plus, he can have a fag without someone bothering him about the smell. The booth is in the back of the store, so leaving his face completely uncovered doesn't feel nearly as uncomfortable either.

For anyone else the mask stays on. Well, at least some form of mask. Nowadays, when deep in public territory, he sticks to a surgical mask. Still attracts some curious gazes, but after the new-age plague passed he's been left well enough alone.

Besides, the bird's a civilian through and through. She's probably used to white collar Johns with soft hands and faces. He's decidedly the opposite and doesn't want to scare her off. At a time like this he knows hiding his face would make him seem less trustworthy. She should at least be allowed to see what she's working with. He knows he's not wholly unattractive, but if compared to Soap, well he wouldn't blame her for sticking up her nose. Hell, it'd be no skin off his back.

He's early as per usual. Doesn't want to keep her waiting on him. Time is money and all that. The coffee shop staff seemed relieved at the lack of customers. Behind him, he can hear one of the servers taking an order from a customer. That's when he hears a sound that makes his ears prick up.

The sound of heels against the tile.

Subconsciously, he straightens himself. Consciously, he makes no move to attempt to preen or better his appearance in any way. What she sees is what she gets and vice versa. That's what this meeting is for anyway. It's a time to lay it all on the table.

"Hello."

Her voice is soft and sweet. He releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. When he looks up he's taken off guard by the quality of her facial features. In Johnny's pictures she looked average. But now, he realizes that perhaps the flash really dulled down her beautiful features - mainly her delicious looking lips. He swallows hard at the thought of his cock maybe getting inside that blowjob perfect mouth.

"You must be Simon."

She places down a mid-size purse on the booth seat across from him. She's dressed in business casual - a white button up and some form fitting slacks. Her makeup is subdued, her hair lightly styled. She looks completely natural. Ghost finds she's checking off all the boxes he didn't even realize he had.

She offers her hand and he shakes it. Her nails aren't painted but have a natural sheen and length. And while her palms are soft, her grip is sturdy. It's obvious that she knows how to uphold herself professionally. He already starts to feel good about this impending arrangement.

She introduces herself as a "Miss Care". It's a fake name designed to give her a simple, yet recognizable trait. He supposes her self-chosen moniker isn't far off from a callsign. Not that she'd have any idea what that even is.

"S' a pleasure." He bows his head at her in respect.

He doesn't miss the way she blushes for a second before taking the seat across from him. She opens her mouth to say something, but is rudely interrupted by a server placing a menu down in front of her. At least, he finds it quite rude. She just beams at the server and politely declines the menu. She orders a hot Chai latte with a slice of banana bread. She's obviously a regular at this place. It makes sense she'd chose it as a meeting spot.

The server scurries off, and for a second both he and her take each other in. He admires the softness of her upper body, the curvature of her breasts that are cradled lovingly by her brassiere. She seems to be reading his face, for what he can't say. Whatever she finds she seems to like based on her more confident smile.

"Johnny wasn't lying when he said you're built like a brick shithouse." She giggles.

Despite himself, Ghost can't help the flood of heat to his face. He could throttle that boy. He likes her laugh more than enough to quell that urge though. He finds himself already admiring her confidence to even speak to him like that. He knows he's intimidating.

"If you don't mind me asking," She offers before pausing. He looks at her expectanly, silently urging her to go on. "What are you looking for exactly? Not to be rude but, I'm a little shocked someone as handsome as you would be interested in my services."

A long beat of silence fills the air. It's a bit awkward but Ghost needs a second to think of his response. Not only is he caught off guard by her admonition, but how could he tell this girl he can't find it within himself to build relationship anymore, much less with a woman? Another beat of silence passes and she offers him a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. I-"

"Don't have time for a bird. Jus' looking fer a distraction." He admits, cutting her off. "Johnny talked a big game 'bout ya. Figured I'd give you a shot."

She stutters out a chuckle. His words have caught her off guard. He knows he sounds full of himself. He is full of himself. Her admitting she thinks he's attractive helps alot with his ego.

"Well, has he told you anything about my services other than I'm good at what I do?"

"No."

She goes into her purse and pulls out a semi-thick docket of paper. The headline on top let's him know exactly what it is.

"A rental agreement?" He muses.

"Mhm. I'm sure you're aware my services aren't exactly...legal on their own. So, just to stay on the right side of the law, I make sure my contract states you're renting my villa for the weekends you decide to visit." She says, flipping through the papers. "Besides, you are renting out my villa. It'll be just me and you."

He admires her business plan. A contract like that keeps her from getting scammed, and it has the added benefit of running off losers. Normally, if a John decided not to pay her for her "services" she'd be shit out of luck. This way, she'd be legally able to receive his funds under the guise of being just a landlord.

"Smart."

"Thank you."

She pulls out a pen, uncaps it, then marks on certain lines throughout the packet. She then offers him the pen.

"Wait, sorry."

He places the pen down.

"What experience are you interested in having?"

Ghost just stares at her. He doesn't really understand her question.

"Are you looking for the full girlfriend experience? Or something else?" She asks.

The server comes back with her tea and snack. She thanks them with a bright, beautiful smile Ghost wishes was directed his way. She tries to go for a sip of her hot drink but it's too hot. She licks the foam off her lips with a crinkled nose. Ghost can't help the way his lips quirk up in the corners at the sight.

"Thought that's all you offered." He admits.

"Oh, no, not at all. I offer quite a few services. All vanilla of course." She says as she goes for a piece of banana bread. "The girlfriend experience is the most popular but I can also play the part of a wife, step-sister, or mommy. Most of my clients like to start off our first session with the best friend experience. Just so we can to get used to each other without any weird tension."

Ghost is a bit taken by her straightforwardness. He knew she'd be open and honest, but hearing her talk about what role she'd be willing to play in his sex life makes him swallow hard. He doesn't know what character he wants her to play either. Every fantasy but "mommy" sounds terribly appealing. The "bestfriend" approach does sound like a good place to start. He wants sex, needs sex, but he also knows he himself might not feel the most comfortable to start with it right away.

"Friends first."

She finally gives him that stunning smile. It falters after a moment and she gives him a bit of an apologetic look.

"One last thing before we sign. We've got to go over our boundaries." She says. This time she's finally able to drink her tea. She swallows down the liquid and places it on the table. "What are some of the things you aren't comfortable with me doing."

There's another long beat of silence as Ghost thinks. He really can't think of a damn thing he wouldn't want this fuckable, pretty girl to do for him. He keeps thinking before realizing maybe he's wrong.

"Nothin' anal. N' no kissin'."

She seems confused.

"No kissing? On the mouth or all over?"

He was only thinking about the mouth. Not that he doesn't want to tongue fuck her mouth, but he thinks a degree of separation would be good to start with. The idea that she'd be willing to kiss him other places, well...the it excites him more than it should.

"Just the mouth."

"Okay." She nods. "No anal play and no kissing on the mouth."

She snacks for another moment.

"And you, Love?" He asks.

"Ooh, I like it when you call me that." She blushes again, wiping crumbs off her bottom lip with a napkin.

Ghosts lips quirk up again. He's starting to really like her attitude and sense of humor. And but of course he would. Johnny recommended her.

"Well, my boundaries are as follows:" She begins, her voice even and measured as if she's given this spiel more than enough times. "No choking, no leaving bruises - that includes hickies, no anal without lube or having told me beforehand, and no slurs or degrading names."

Ghost finds her list a little long but he understands it. He feels a bit of righteous fire in his belly at the thought of her Johns pushing her to the point of even having to make those discretions.

"Understood." He nods.

She smiles up at him and then opens the packet again. She points to the already marked lines and has him sign. As he goes along she tells him about each page of the docket. Once everything is signed she hands him a small business card.

"That's the amount for our first session. Please wire the funds to the account listed on the bottom before Friday night at the latest." She says. "If you don't, I won't be able to get everything ready for Saturday."

He nods, taking in the information on the card. Her prices would be exorbitant for a normal man, but Ghost is no normal man. He makes more than enough money to see her every weekend if he wanted to.

"Please don't be late." She taps the section of the card with the time listed. "And make sure you bring a copy of your up to date physical."

Ghost reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out two sheets of paper stapled together. She mulls over the document before grinning at him.

"Well, well, look at you. Already prepared. I think you and I are going to get along just fine." She flirts. She bats her lashes at him and it takes every fiber of his being not to reach over the table and shove his tongue down her throat.

With that she continues to snack on her drink and bread. She offers no more conversation until she's done. Ghost is more than okay with that. He's content to watch her body. He finds he really likes the way her breasts shift with her every breath.

"I'm sure you don't like surprises, so I'll give you an idea on how I schedule my visits. If you want to change anything up let me know." She says. "I'm flexible."

The flirt is not lost on Ghost. He shifts in his seat, feeling heat trickle into his cock. This girl wants to play with him, test his resolve. He hates that it's already cracking.

"When you arrive I'll greet you at the door and bring you inside. I always like to have a meal waiting for you. Afterwards, we can watch TV on the couch together or play some video games? Or I can read to you, if you'd like." She offers. "If you want, I can give you a massage. Or we can always call it a night if you get sleepy. I'll show you my room."

Her excitement is palpable, almost conspiratorial. She sounds like a girl going over her plans for her first sleepover. He supposes she's not far off. It would be their first sleepover. It would also be his first sleepover. He's never had one.

Her excitement is replaced with a nervous smile. It takes Ghost a second to realize why. He didn't realize his facial expression had changed into something a bit more pointed. He curses himself internally, tries to soften his gaze, but the damage has been done.

"If you want to have sex at any time, just say so. The first time around, I usually like for us to get a shower together." She hums. "It'll give me a chance to give you a little onceover before we start. Also, it's just really great foreplay."

While he adores the idea of a sudsy fuck in the shower he also feels like a fool. He's so used to his face being covered he's unused to controlling his facial features. He's used to letting his emotions show because no one can see. He realizes that he needs to be more careful from now on.

"We'll play it by ear." He mutters, his own mood soured. For her credit she doesn't seem to take it to heart.

"Well, no matter what we get into on Saturday I just want to let you know I'm excited." She smiles. "It's been so nice to meet you, Simon."

She tucks the paper docket and the pen back into her purse. She then cleans up her plates and napkins. Just before she readies herself to stand she looks up at him with her pretty little eyes.

"Can I kiss you goodbye on the cheek?"

Her request takes him off guard. He hasn't paid for anything yet. His heart thumps.

"Yeah."

She then stands and leans over the table. Her blouse isn't lowcut but she has enough tits to fill it out. When she leans over he has to stop himself from trying to grope them.

She kisses him sweetly. It's barely a brush of her lips against the rough skin of his cheek. His cock twitches to its full length in his trousers. If he was any farther gone he'd fuck her right there over the dishes.

She smiles down at him, lashes fluttering, purse in hand. She gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"See you Saturday."