#is this an excuse for me to soft-drop my sona?

[fenny-self-ships]

He's a hugger for sure <3

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XXIII

Parts I-XXII:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

Part XVII

Part XVIII

Part XIX

Part XX

Part XXI

Part XXII

XXIII.

Alastair watched his sister play with her dolls on the rug in the sitting room from the second to last step on the landing. A safe distance away from the fire, her small voice filled the room with color that it sorely lacked. Since their father’s return from wherever it was he had been for the past year, their furniture (what furniture they had) started to disappear.

Cordelia, being only eight hardly noticed. Not when her father’s attention became more of a pressing matter, but Alastair being ten years old and having been the one to mind the estate after their staff stopped showing up and Sona fell into another one her deep depressions, he began to notice.

And he could only suspect one person responsible.

After being satisfied that Cordelia was out of ear range, Alastair turned and jogged up the stairs two at a time. He noted the sconces on the walls were missing along with the bulbs except for one left unprotected and obnoxiously bright without a cover. The rug that ran along the hallway was gone as well leaving the floor bare so that every footstep and noise could be heard. Alastair took a deep breath through his nose and steadied himself.

He’d secretly hoped that his mother would be the one to address the issue, but she hardly seemed to notice the missing things, or if she did, she didn’t feel the need to mention it. The house grew colder and colder by the minute despite his father's enormous presence to fill it.

A part of him chastised himself for not being more elated about his father’s return. The rest of his family members seemed to be, but because of his illusive absence for the past year with no explanation about where he’d gone and the stink of alcohol lingering on his vest, something deep in Alastair’s chest froze towards his father.

Others may be warmed by his false promises and elaborate stories, but he knew the truth. Call it a gift of his, he could see past the pretense his father shoveled in front of everyone to hide his sins.

When he reached the oak door at the end of the hall, with a shaking fist, he knocked.

At first no sound came, so he knocked again; louder this time.

A shuffle could be heard inside. Glass shattering against the floor followed by a string of cursing.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, father,” said Alastair. “I need to speak with you.”

“What’s this about?”

Alastair placed a hand on the handle. “May I come in?”

“Is this important?”

“It is,” said Alastair lifting his jaw.

“Very well,” said his father.

Alastair turned the knob and pushed his way inside. The bitter, sweet smell of freshly spilt whiskey hit him and burned his eyes. He resisted the urge to cover his nose with a handkerchief.

His father wobbled on his hands and knees attempting to clean up a spill with his pocket cloth, but moving as if he were on a very unsteady ship. Red rimmed eyes looked up at Alastair and a grin curved around his father’s face.

“What is it?” He slurred as he fell backwards against the wingback chair that happened to be the only piece of furniture in the room beside the beverage cart sitting beside the window. “Am I late for supper?”

“It’s nearly noon, father,” said Alastair. “I’m here because it appears that our household items have gone missing.”

“Missing?” Elias squinted up at his son.

“Yes.” Alastair rolled his eyes. “As in gone.”

“Like what?”

“My writing desk, Cordelia’s doll house,” said Alastair. “Mum’s good China, the Tehran crafted weapons, the silver, and where’s the furniture that used to be in this room?”

“Alastair—“

“If you’re pawning our household items to support your drinking then—“ It wasn’t a question of if, nor was it an accusation. Alastair knew the truth, he knew even if he didn’t want to believe it.

“Then what?” asked Elias. “Go on, boy, finish your sentence.”

“You’ll not take one more thing from this house,” said Alastair.

Elias scoffed and attempted to push himself up from the floor when his hand landed on a piece of glass. Elias hissed and fell backwards again onto the floor. “Bloody hell!” He held his hand up, dripping now with fresh blood. “Don’t just stand there. Get me something to stench this with.”

Alastair sighed and walked across the room to the beverage cart. A towel hung from the silver handle, stained with spilt alcohol, Alastair grabbed it and brought it over to his father.

“Where is your steele?” asked Elias as he ripped the towel from Alastair’s hand.

“I don’t have one with me,” said the boy.

“What kind of Shadowhunter doesn’t carry around his steele?”

“I’m nearly ten, father,” reminded Alastair. “I’m hardly a Shadowhunter yet. I can go find yours if you’d like.”

Elias took the towel away from his hand and examined the wound in his palm. “No, don’t trouble yourself. You’ve clearly more pressing matters to attend to. Have you spoken to your mother about these missing items?”

“I haven’t wanted to trouble her—“

“Only me?” asked Elias. “I suppose I deserve that.” He got slowly and unsteadily to his feet. When he stepped backwards a few steps, Alastair had to stop himself from reaching out towards him. He looked like a toddler learning to walk for the first time.

The question dangled on Alastair’s tongue as he watched his father pitch forward and back like an aged ship on angry seas: why did he insist on drinking? When did he become a drunk? Alastair, honestly, couldn’t remember. There’d been a time when sobriety found him for a few months and then he’d be back on the streets again. Alastair was seven years old the first time he picked him up from the porch steps when he passed out before he’d made it inside. The first time, he’d thought it kind of comical, by the third time that week, he found it frightening. And now, he wanted to ask his father why. Why weren’t they enough for him? What was his father chasing that could be found or forgotten at the bottom of a bottle?

Alastair feared he might never know.

     _ _ _

The pocket watch ticked inside Alastair’s palm where he sat on the sofa in the drawing room waiting for Cordelia and Lucie to enter through the door. It was five past three; the time they were supposed to return. Questionably, James hadn’t returned either. Alastair knew he should have trusted his instincts over his sister’s word, but he’d allowed himself to feel marginally guilty about upsetting Cordelia.

How could she not understand he was simply trying to do what was best for her? She clearly wasn’t thinking straight— and to be honest she never had when it came to the Herondale boy. It would be over his dead body that he’d ever see James hand-in-hand with his sister.

No, not even then.

Alastair shoved his watch back into his pocket, stood from the chair retrieving his jacket from the arm, and marched towards the door.

“Oh,” said a voice behind him. “Are you leaving too?”

Alastair turned to find Thomas descending the stairs in his full fighting gear. His soft brown hair was combed back away from his face and curling slightly behind his ears. His scarred hands were adjusting the straps across his broad chest that just barely fit across him. Alastair swallowed and quickly averted his eyes to his shoes and then the front door.

With a strange pitch in his voice, Alastair said, “I hadn’t realized you were here.”

“I came with my parents to meet the Herondales,” said Thomas tucking in the extra bit of leather left at the end of his strap. “I thought Christopher, Matthew, and James would be here, but it appears I am at a loss. Miss communication.”

“James is with Matthew on patrol,” said Alastair. “At least that’s what I was told.”

Thomas looked off to the side. “Then I’m sure that’s the truth of it. Where are you headed?”

“I’m supposed to meet my sister at the other Lightwood’s estate,” said Alastair. “She’s running a bit behind so I figured I’d spare her the trouble and catch her there.”

“I’m on my way there as well,” said Thomas. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

Surprised, all words evaporated from Alastair’s mind. When he managed to find them again, a bright color had emerged in his cheeks. “Are you quite sure. I don’t mind finding my own way there.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Thomas reaching for the door knob. “We’re going in the same direction, not on an outing together, there’s no reason for us to take two separate carriages to the same destination.” Thomas opened the door and without waiting for Alastair to respond, he walked out onto the front steps.

Still slightly shocked, Alastair combed a hand through his hair, picked up his cane, and followed.

“What plans do you and Cordelia have today?” Thomas asked from atop the bench seat of his parent’s carriage.

Alastair, who’d chosen to remain quiet despite the kindness being extended to him, focused on the main road as he answered. “I’m not sure. She mentioned something about going to a park.” He was quite certain that was all that was going on between them. Perhaps his parents conjured him into being kind to the injured, isolated, and troubled Carstairs boy. Perhaps this was some sort of revenge and Thomas had alternative plans of dropping him into the Thames.

“It’s a lovely day for the park—“

“What are you doing?”

Thomas’s eyebrow jumped. “Excuse me?”

“This?” Alastair motioned between them. “This show of uncharacteristic kindness. I can tell it’s not genuine. Who put you up to this?”

Thomas sighed and straightened his shoulders. “I felt badly for the way I spoke to you the other day.”

Alastair had to fight to keep the shock from his face. “You felt bad? Thomas, you have nothing to feel badly about.”

“Perhaps,” said Thomas, “but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how unfair I was being towards you. Do not misunderstand me, this is not me granting you pardon for what you did, but rather an understanding.”

“Why?”

“Because when you created those lies about my father,” said Thomas, “I created lies for him, or what I thought were lies to help repair some of his reputation. My father, who is an upstanding citizen by most regards, and truly a wonderful father, and I was making up all kinds of lies to protect him even though I knew the rumors about him were lies— even though I believed him. I can’t imagine if the rumors were actually true.”

He didn’t have to say it. Alastair had long since learned to read between the lines of what someone was saying to him.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me,” said Alastair shortly.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” said Thomas, never removing his eyes from the road, “and I don’t pity you. I’m merely saying that I understand. In a way, I understand.”

With the wind brushing against his face, Alastair felt a weight of sorts brush off of him.

“I am sorry for what I’ve done to your family and Matthew’s,” said Alastair. “I’ve been minding my father’s reputation since I was a boy.”

“Why did you do it?” asked Thomas. “I know why I fought for my father’s reputation, but yours was an actual alcoholic.”

Alastair bristled. “Alcoholic or not, he is still my father.”

“I’m sorry if I offended—“

“You didn’t offend,” said Alastair. “I suppose I fought so hard to protect him for so long that I simply forgot how to not to. I’d been able to keep up a pretense about my father that at the first sign of trouble, my instinct was to defend him, and the only way I knew how to do that was to put the spotlight onto someone else. If I’m being honest, it wasn’t him I was trying to protect.”

“Yourself?” asked Thomas, as he steered the horse down an empty brick paved street.

“Cordelia,” said Alastair. “I was trying to protect Cordelia. She grew up believing that our father was someone to be admired. She held him on the same pedestal that the Herondale children held their father. I made sure that she never knew about his… illness.”

“Does she know now?”

“She does,” said Alastair. “I couldn’t protect her forever.”

“No,” said Thomas, drawing the horse to a stop at the brick pathway leading to a white gated entrance to a garden. “I suppose you can’t.”

Alastair looked up at the beautiful ivy crested veranda and tried to remember what had caused him to go fetch Cordelia in such a hast. Surely, she was all right with Lucie and if she was in fact with James, perhaps it was high time that she started worrying about her own mistakes. And if she needed him, he would surely be there for her.

“Perhaps I’ll wait here,” said Alastair. “While you go fetch Christopher.”

From the ground now, Thomas looked up at Alastair as he tied the horse to a post. “Would you like me to get Cordelia for you?”

“No,” said Alastair, adjusting his coat. “I shouldn’t trouble her. She’ll return when—“

Before he could finish his sentence, a high pitched scream came from inside the house. Thomas and Alastair both looked in the direction of which it had come and then back at each other.

“Cordelia,” said Alastair as he swung himself down from the driver’s bench as Thomas drew a steele from the strap on his shoulder and whispered its name to it. It burst to light in his hand, accenting his face in a halo of light.

The two men stalked up to the open front door: Alastair at the front, with Thomas trailing closely behind him, both of them scanning their surroundings.

Upon entering the house, it didn’t appear that anything was out of place through the kitchen. There was no sign of a scuffle or demon activity. Even though he didn’t know him all that well, Alastair wouldn’t put it past the odd glasses wearing one to release a demon during one of his poorly executed experiments.

They inched through the kitchen into the short hallway that went through to the sitting room. Attached to the room was a staircase and from the second floor, they could hear an exchanging of voices.

Alastair broke for the stairs at a run with Thomas close behind him. He followed the direction the voices were coming from and turned to the left, stopping at a door that was partially opened. He was seconds from storming it, when Thomas grabbed him by the coat tail and wretched him back.

“Wait,” said Thomas and stepped in front of him, “listen.”

“I wouldn’t try it if I were you,” said a second voice laced with ill intention and centuries of old lies. “Not unless you want me to start breaking bones in their bodies starting with the smallest.”

Thomas grabbed Alastair’s arm and mouthed a name. “Belial.”

Suddenly, the door slammed in front of Alastair and he heard the faint sound of the lock.

“We don’t have much time. I have a very short window back into my realm and we’ll need to be going now. That is if you want your friends to live.”

“Lucie,” said a male voice that Alastair could not recognize. “Don’t go with him. I’m not meant to be here. I’m not meant to be alive.”

“How rude,” said Belial. “Do you have any idea how hard your mother and sister worked to bring you back to life. The least you could do is be more grateful.”

“If I go with you.” The voice was clearly Lucie’s and if Lucie was in there then so would Cordelia. “If I agree to do what you ask, you’ll promise to leave them alone?”

“You have my word,” said a second voice laced with ill intention and century old lies.

Thomas glanced at Alastair and pointed at the medieval spear hanging on the wall in the hallway. Alastair reached up and pulled it carefully from it’s hooks as Thomas took several steps back, picked his foot up, and kicked their way through the lock with his heel in a single, impressive stomp. As Thomas reached for Lucie, pulling her away from the mysterious figure in the center of the room, Alastair threw the spear with every ounce of his might.

He watched it spiral through the air, quick as an arrow, and then stop mere inches from Belial’s chest. A wicked grin curled around the handsome face, as the spear evaporated and then reappeared faster then Alastair could blink.

It was warm, that was the first thing he thought about. Warmth spreading across his back and his chest. His eyes searched the room for Cordelia, but he couldn’t find her face amongst the ones he could not recognize. Everyone stared at him, the pale haired girl Grace and a dark haired boy sitting beside her looked on at him terrified. His eyes drifted to his left where Thomas held Lucie tightly in his arms both gaped at him horrified. He tried to say something, but his lungs had stopped expanding. When he looked down at his chest, he could see where the warmth had come from. The end of the spear protruded from his chest.

“Alastair!” Thomas yelled.

“Go,” he said, as rust flavored saliva dripped from between his lips. “Go now.”

“Release the girl,” said Belial, with his arms crossed and a rather bored expression on his face, “and the boy lives.”

Thomas’s grip on Lucie faltered just slightly.

“Don’t,” said Alastair. “He’s lying.”

“Let me go, Thomas,” said Lucie. “Let me go. He won’t let him die, he won’t if it means he can have me.”

“Listen to the girl, Thomas,” said Belial. “Save your friend and sacrifice the other or lose both.”

Alastair could see the turmoil in Thomas’s gritted teeth and reddened face, still his hands were white knuckled around Lucie. He wouldn’t let her go. Not unless—

Lucie brought her head forward and swung it back against Thomas’s sternum. With a quick maneuver of her feet, she twisted under his grip and shoved him off balance into the wall.

“Let them go,” said Lucie, her hair loose from it’s braid now and falling around her face giving her the appearance of a mad woman. “Let him live and I’ll go with you.”

Belial grinned and with a slight nod of his head, he and Lucie blinked from the room like a flash of lightning. Alastair was released from the spear in the wall and fell crumpled to the ground on his knees. His hands went to his chest to feel for the wound, but while the blood and hole in his shirt were still there, the wound and weapon were not.

A/N: Hope I redeemed myself just a little bit. Next update comes out 12/20

[tastyliltina]

Coconut conundrum (sim sized vore)

A/n: Aka Tina being absolute GARBAGE for a little bit TwT. Haven’t written anything with @princesaltines ‘ sona and mine being gay together in a minute so...cue indulgent writing XD

I keep having?? Ideas in the shower so please excuse my second opening shower scene. There’s something fun about writing them pwp

If you like this story and want one like it for yourself, check out my commissions! tinascommissions.carrd.co/

All stories are currently on sale until Dec. 10th!

~~

Tina’s skin burned. It felt like a glowing mass of magma, boiling beneath the heat of a deserved hot shower. Steam swirled in the air, coiling and curling against the pull of the humming fan above her before it vanished. Every breath felt heavy yet refreshing, opening every part of her pores and lungs as a toasted coconut smell filled the air. She’d long been finished scrubbing herself, her new body scrub settled to the side. For now she stood.

The water felt like fingers running through her hair, a sensation that locked her in place. Hands traced along every curve of her figure, soaking in her exhaustion and insecurities and whatever she wrestled with before washing it all down the drain. Pricks of sleep teased her eyes, and the thought of curling up in bed became impossible to ignore. Soft, fluffy sheets, nestling her face into the curve of her pillow… Tina sighed. She leaned into the shower wall. If she stood here much longer, she’d fall asleep again.

She turned, staring at the faucet. God she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to face the world beyond the shower curtain. Slowly, she forced her hand to close around the faucet. It turned. The stream of water stopped with a hiss, leaving only the echoes in its wake. Steam danced around Tina as she pushed the shower liner aside, stepping out and onto a bath mat. The air was hazy, heavy, but refreshingly warm. Tina supposed a forty-five minute shower had that effect.

Her towel felt rough against her skin. Tina patted away the excess water, bending herself in half once she felt dry enough to wrap her hair in the towel. Once it was secure, she grabbed her lotion. Toasted coconut, it was a new smell but one she’d been meaning to try out for weeks. Nimble fingers lathered the cream up and down her legs, arms, shoulders. If the smell of coconut hadn’t clung to her before it sure as hell did now.

Tina took her time putting on her sleepwear. It wasn’t anything fantastic, a tank top and some short shorts. Somehow, despite the air conditioner being set to the lowest setting she managed to overheat at night… She was thankful her roommate was the same way. Removing her towel, Tina took a moment to replace it on the hook and sighed. She opened the door.

Cold air rushed at her almost instantly. Goosebumps pricked her arms as she stepped out of the bathroom, an explosion of steam at her back. Her tail dragged from the damp bathroom tile to the cool and clean wood of the hallway, further driving the chill into her bones. It felt amazing. Quiet steps padded down the hallway as she moved to the living room and peered inside. Ollie was stretched over one of the couches, their too-big frame awkwardly sprawled across the arms. She smiled.

Creeping into the kitchen was hardly a problem for Tina. She’d been compared to a mouse time and time again, and being quiet as one almost came naturally. Slowly, she headed for the fridge to grab a water. A nice cool drink was the perfect way to enjoy a fresh break from the shower. Cuddles didn’t sound too bad, either...she doubted Ollie would mind if she joined them on the couch.

Tina scooped a water bottle from the fridge, using the tip of her tail to close it as she pulled away and took a sip. The brunette sighed. She turned slowly, yawning as she did to head into the living room. Something solid and warm blocked her path. Tina squeaked. Her eyes flew open, instantly trapped in a gaze much larger than her down.

“OLLIE!” the human-sized hybrid shrieked, dropping into a squat with a shaky laugh. “God-shit, hon! You scared me…”

“Sorry, sorry…” their voice was a croon. Tina grumbled, forcing herself to her feet so she could properly glare up at them. She wiped her face, dispelling any flustered blush on her cheeks.

“It’s...you’re fine,” with a huff, she stepped back to meet their gaze.

Their eyes were groggy, but not completely as brown-rimmed drops of blue burned into her. Even their hair matched the sleepy look. It was an absolute rat’s nest...hers was no better, she imagined. Still dripping wet, too.

“Hm,” Ollie hummed. Tina nodded slowly, about to speak up before they stepped closer. She matched their step, though got no farther than a step before the fridge pressed at her back. The metal was strikingly cold and earned a gasp from the hybrid. Before she could complain, Ollie’s hand placed itself a few inches from her arm. Oh no. Oh no no no, no she knew what this meant.

If at any time Tina felt like the mouse she was constantly compared to, it was at that moment. That very second Ollie’s hand pressed into the wall behind her, preventing any escape. She’d never run from them. But that didn’t stop her heart from kicking into overdrive, the frantic beating only worsening as Ollie hiked a brow.

“Something the matter, little mouse?~” as they spoke, Ollie leaned in closer, flashing their fangs in a wicked grin. The scales on their face shimmered in the dimming kitchen light, and Tina’s mind flickered to a snake posing to strike before a defenseless mouse. Fitting. Too goddamned fitting.

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I-it’s, you...I’m….I can’t move,” the words fell out of her mouth, awkwardly hanging in the air. All the while, her pitch grew higher and more frantic.

“Of course, can’t have my little treat running off~.”

Something like a laugh was the only response Tina had.

“But you wouldn’t run away from me, would you…” Ollie leaned in further, further. Tina’s entire gaze was taken up by their face, the heat of their breath warm against her skin. Goosebumps lined her arms. When they spoke again, Tina could feel their voice rumble in her core. “Princess?~”

A shriek-like laugh tore itself from Tina’s lips in a bubbling cackle. She pressed into the fridge at her back but found no relief. Instead, Ollie’s face moved all the closer. Something pricked at her skin-just along the nape of her neck. Light pressure that grew to a point as breath cascaded over her. Tina’s mind struggled to form a coherent thought around the wonderfully familiar and radiating sense of primal terror coursing under her skin.

When they pulled away, whatever ounce of retort she had absolutely puddled at her feet. Tina slouched into the fridge, her eyes wide and locked on Ollie’s while her fingers slid to the area. She could feel the divots. No blood, of course, but there was definitely a mark. Her cheeks reddened again.

“Now…”

Tina looked up just to catch Ollie’s grip snaking around her back. All in one motion, Ollie tugged her away from the fridge and towards them. With her support gone, Tina melted into their grip and allowed their hands to grasp her wrists. She had an idea of what they were going to do, but she didn’t fight.

“I know you just got out of the shower,” Ollie continued, “but I think it’s time I put you to bed~.”

She whined sheepishly. Their fingers laced through her palms, absolutely consuming her hands in theirs. Ollie’s eyes shone mischievously, their oblong pupils glittering while they drew Tina closer. Eventually, her hands landed on something soft and warm. Their lips. Tina tittered again, knowing all too well what lay beyond the barrier of skin beneath her hands.

Tauntingly taking their time, Ollie’s lips began to part. This revealed the living cavern of blue beyond, framed by shining and sharp fangs that glittered in the light of the kitchen. Despite her innate desire to pull away, the feeling that she needed to run, Tina remained rooted to the spot. Ollie’s mouth flexed, the blue flesh beyond pulsing in an almost inviting manner. Beckoning her forwards. A silent promise that inside, she’d be safe and snugly tucked away.

If she hadn’t been sure before Tina knew exactly where she was going now. It rang especially clear as Ollie shifted, their tongue wiggling to life. The forked muscle slid out and slathered Tina’s wrists in saliva. Tina flinched, the warm and squishy feeling biting against the previous chill. But, Tina got the idea Ollie wanted to move things along. Their tongue continued to creep up her arms, all the while blotting and drenching her in a heavy dose of drool. All the while, they purred above and around her, the baritone noise resonating through her.

~~

Ollie shifted, carefully drawing Tina’s hands further into their mouth. The delicate taste of coconut mingled with her mocha flavor, encouraging them to go further and faster. Tina’s fingers shifted in their mouth, the little digits pressing and exploring the back of their gullet while they drew out the tease. Eventually, they decided they’d postponed long enough...bed was calling. With a hefty swallow, they drew TIna further inside. Pleasant shivers ran along their back at the feeling of weight in their throat and they swallowed again. Again. As they worked Tina inside, their hands trailed down her figure to help guide her around their teeth and ensure she was comfortable. It wasn’t any fun if their lady wasn’t enjoying herself, after all…~

Long, shuddering gulps tugged Tina deeper into Ollie’s core, and eventually the warm and living weight sank into their stomach. Ollie tilted their head back, focusing fully on the sensations and movements trailing into their middle. It had been so long, too long since they’d indulged...another gulp left only Tina’s legs poking out of their mouth, the odd sight making Ollie’s lips quirk. How weird this would have looked to wandering eyes…

Ollie steadied themself, eyes fluttering closed. They stood there a moment, head tilted to the sky and Tina’s form almost completely hidden within their chest. When they were ready, they swallowed a final time. There was a feeling like a propulsion, an awkward rock dropping in their abdomen and settling there. Ollie crooned, now able to feel every little shift and twitch of Tina inside. Their hands slid to the bulge hidden beneath the sweater they wore, mapping out just where Tina was and squeezing in to ensure she was safely snuggled up. By the pressure and wriggles inside it seemed Tina was doing just fine.

“Ugh...mmm~,” their purrs deepened as they straightened and sighed. Really, they hadn’t planned on eating anyone tonight-not that they were complaining. Something like a primal urge stirred in them the instant they smelled that coconut, something that encouraged them to pounce on their little lady. Ollie’s hand traced over the curve of their middle. “You comfy in there, little mouse?”

For a moment, it was quiet.

“I’m okay!” her voice was muffled and squeaky, no doubt a result of their tease. Tina broke into a yawn. The noise itself was soft, nothing too eccentric-but the nuzzling movement inside set Ollie’s cheeks into a blush. If Ollie was butter, they would have melted into a puddle...so much for being the big bad wolf to their little mouse. Dammit.

“Good,” they smiled. Patting their middle, they regarded the living room. Sleeping on the couch didn’t sound like a bad way to go...but stretching out in bed didn’t, either. They muffled a yawn behind their wrist and decided on the bed. It was a longer walk, sure, and with a heavy temporary meal it wasn’t comfortable to walk too far, but snuggling under blankets with Tina tucked away sounded heavenly… Slowly, they began to meander down the hall, unable to ignore the swaying motion in their gut.

“You...did not have to go….you didn’t have to go...that hard-at me, I mean…” Tina’s muffled voice trailed up to them. Ollie smirked, patting their middle as they stepped into their bedroom.

“Oh, I know~,” trailing into a chuckle, Ollie approached their bed and turned, carefully setting atop it. “But you didn’t have to wear that coconut lotion, either...you know I love the taste of coconut~.”

“I-well, it wasn’t-I didn’t!”

Ollie grinned as Tina faltered, kicking their legs onto the bed. “Of course you didn’t, Sweets~. Absolutely no thought went into what came after you went around smelling like the little treat you are,” their eyes fell to their middle. “Unless…”

“Unless nothing!” Tina cut them off, breaking into a squirming fit. Ollie purred, both from the pleasant feeling of movement inside and the fact they’d riled her up again.

“Right, right, well,” slowly, Ollie shimmied under the covers. They drew the blankets up to their neck, rolling over so they could curl around their middle. “Whatever you say, love~. You can think about all that while we get some sleep, hm?”

“Mmh..” her voice was a grumble, but Ollie could feel Tina settling down. Another yawn reached their ears. They felt something press out and stretch against them, eventually trailing into another nuzzle. “Fine…”

“Good.” Ollie sighed, relaxing into their pillow with a purr. “Love you, lady~.”

“Love...you, too…” there was another yawn, and Tina fell still. It never took Tina long to fall asleep-and Ollie followed soon after.

[sleepytimeshiloh]

The Gift Dilemma

(howdy, smallmarch has consumed me so have a thing. Once again I’m on mobile ;-; Also! I refer to Dadsona as just Sona!)

It’s Sunday. Half of the cul-de-sac is at church and the other half remains in bed. Damien, however, was taking a stroll in his garden, debating on whether or not a bouquet would be an appropriate gift for someone like Robert. Robert had fixed Damien’s kitchen sink the day before, and the poor goth was unsure how to show his gratitude. The only things that came to mind were bouquets and gifts for Betsy.

He decided he needed a second opinion. Mary was at church, so asking her would be impolite. Joseph, Brain, and Hugo were all attending church as well. Sona was most definitely on his morning run with Craig by this time.

Then he realized that the Coffee Spoon was open on Sundays and Mat was probably tending the shop. He exited the gate in his backyard and made his way to the coffee shop.

The door opened with a bell, and Damien was greeted with a bright smile and a positive attitude.

“Hey, man. Good morning. What are you having?” Mat said as he leaned on the counter.

“Hmm, I believe a cup Godspeed You! Black Coffee would satisfy me for now. I would also like your opinion on something.” Damien said as he slid Mat a five dollar bill and put the change in the tip jar.

“Yeah? Let me get you your drink and we will talk, since the place is dead right now.” Mat replied as he began working on Damien’s cup.

Minutes later he sat across from Damien at a table near the register. “So, what’s on your mind, brother?” Mat inquired as he slid Damien his coffee.

“Ah.. well, you see, Robert recently repaired my kitchen sink… He would not accept monetary payment but I still believe he deserves something.” Damien sighed. “What do you think I should do? My bouquets won’t quite do– he’s not a flower person.. and getting something for Betsy is not a gift for him.”

Mat chuckled. “No, it’s not, you’re right,” he began. “But maybe you can treat him to a meal or something.”

Damien sipped his coffee thoughtfully and nodded after a moment. “I have the perfect idea! Thank you for your inspiration, Mat,” he grinned. “I will see you soon!” He practically jumped towards the exit, excited to begin his project.

“Damien you left your–” Mat hollered, but it was hopeless. He stared down at the coffee cup for a moment before shrugging and downing the rest of it.

-

As soon as he got home, Damien texted Robert and told him to come over for dinner that night. He had Lucien bring him a few things on his way home from a friend’s house that afternoon and Damien got to work.

Robert was there early, and Lucien answered the door. “Dad is still working on dinner,” he said simply. “But.. come in, I guess.” The teen stepped aside, rolling his eyes. “Dad! Robert’s here!” He called out on the way to his room.

Damien strolled out of the kitchen. His hair was up in a messy bun and his t-shirt and pajama pants were covered in splotches of flour. “Welcome!” He said with a grin on his face, using his cleaner forearm to push his glasses back to the bridge of his nose. “You’re early! Oh, no matter. Have a seat while I put dinner in the oven and clean up a bit.”

Robert raised a skeptical eyebrow but complied, sitting in the living room and admiring the paintings as he usually does. When Damien returns, hands clean but clothes filthy, Robert chuckled. “Did you wrestle a flour bag? You’re like the snowman of baking…. Stuff.” Smooth, Robert.

Damien smiled. “I’m sure I do look a mess. It’s my first time making pizza from scratch… And putting pineapples on it, I’m afraid.”

The gruffly man’s eyes went wide with excitement. “It better be good. You cannot forsake the great combination that is pineapple, ham, and mozzarella.”

“I hope you enjoy it.. It is my thanks to you for yesterday.”

“He was going to get Betsy a new custom made bed with her name on it!” Lucien shouted from his room.

“Really now?” Robert eyed Damien to confirm.

Damien felt his face get hot and he bit his lip. “I-I’m going to check on the pizza. Excuse me.” He rised and scrambled back into the kitchen.

Robert sat in the living room in silence until he and Lucien were called to dinner. They gathered around the table with a huge Hawaiian pizza between them. Robert immediately dug in, enjoying every last bite, and scolded Damien for trying to use a fork to eat pizza.

After Lucien had retreated back into his bedroom and the two were left alone with full bellies, serene silence, and a bottle of wine, enjoying each other’s company in the living room.

Much to Damien’s surprise, it was Robert who broke the silence. “You know… While I prefer this, the dog bed wasn’t a bad idea. Also, you look great tonight. I love the casual look on you as much as your usual goth stuff.”

Damien blushed. “Thank you,” he said before taking a swig of wine.

“I’m serious… You’re uh… Beautiful.” Robert said softly. “And.. I’m just glad you feel comfortable enough around me to dress differently than normal.” He played with a stray strand of hair falling from Damien’s bun.

Damien’s grip on the wine bottle tightened, and he held Robert’s gaze. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Robert’s chapped lips, his rough stubble grazing the other man’s chin. When he pulled away, Robert had a shit eating grin.

Suddenly, Damien felt extremely self conscious. Yet again, his face flushed bright red and he began to scoot away from Robert.

“No, no, no, please don’t move. Sorry. I noticed you still had flour on your face this whole time and you look ridiculous.” Robert said as he brought his scarred thumb up to Damien’s cheek to wipe it away. He pulled him into another kiss.

When Robert finally pulled away, he sighed. “I should probably get back home. Gotta feed Betsy.” He caressed Damien’s chin and dropped one more quick kiss before getting up and brushing himself off.

Damien grabbed his jacket for him, and as Robert shrugged it on he turned to Damien. “Next time.. let’s go out on a date, yeah?” he suggested lightly before smirking and heading out the door.

Damien was left there, heart beating so hard he could feel it in his ears and lips still warm from the other man’s touch. He smiled to himself and went to his bedroom, heart filled with happiness and feeling like a teenager all over again.