#twst writing commissions

[dilatorywriting]

Pity Party

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: 'I'm going to do it,' you thought triumphantly. 'I'm going to invite Malleus Draconia to the next Unbirthday Party as my date.' And naturally, the Universe in all its infinite omnipotence, went 'lol bet.'

A/N: A very fun commission for the lovely @toast-tales

“Heartslaybul is having another one of their Unbirthday Parties this Friday,” you said, a bit stilted but enthusiastic nevertheless. “And I was thinking—well, it was just a thought! But! Maybe it’d be nice if we, y’know, went together?” You finished, looking up from beneath your lashes at the looming figure before you.

The Gargoyle, naturally, did not respond. A sound rejection if ever there was one.

But! That attempt had sounded really good, hadn’t it? Totally natural and everything! Not a single stutter, fainting episode, or bought of nervous vomiting to be seen!

“Okay,” you muttered, pacing back and forth as you diligently fought the urge to ring your hands. “Okay, okay, okay. I can do this. It’s just, like, two sentences—Three? Was that three?—Doesn’t matter! Focus! It’s not that hard!”

You circled and circled around the alcove. It was a familiar little corner, for all that you’d only ever seen it in the dark of the evening. This was where you’d meet up with Malleus for your nighttime rendezvous. Normally you didn’t bother popping by for at least another hour, but you needed all the practice you could get. And while, yes, the stone carvings overhead were hardly the best conversational partners, it was easier to practice your totally smooth pickup skills on their emotionless faces than, like, Grim. Or God forbid, Ace and Deuce. 

It was only Malleus, you reassured yourself yet again—your kindly, awkward, fey friend with the social awareness of a two-centuries-old potato. It was one thing to know, or at least assume, that he’d be sweet enough to take your offer in stride. It was another entirely to imagine the Briar Prince’s blank ass face saying something genuinely well-intentioned but harsh like ‘that doesn’t sound like a particularly riveting way to spend my afternoon,’ and immediately crushing your soul into itty bitty bite-sized pieces. It was an all too easy scene to picture, as you’d done at least a hundred times since your heart had set itself on its intentions.

You just—maybe just a bit more time. Yes. One more round of practice (perhaps two), and then you’d be ready. Like the Overblots, or whatever. Those hardly phased you at all anymore! It only took repetitive, mind rending, exposure therapy. That would do it. You just needed the teeniest bit more time to—

“Ah—Child of Man. I wasn’t expecting to see you here so earl—”

You jolted back with a truly heinous squawk and wheeled gracelessly into the stone pillar at your rear. You weren’t exactly a force of nature or anything, but the column hadn’t looked all that stable to begin with. So your frantic flailing took its toll, and the great, rock, beam creaked and fell. The Gargoyle perched atop it (the very one you’d been propositioning for the past half hour or so) crashed to the ground with an echoing BOOM and a cloud of debris fit to choke an elephant.

The poor thing lay in the dirt in pieces, its regal countenance split right down the middle. And Malleus Draconia, noted aficionado of all things carved from stone, looked two steps away from having an actual aneurism. So you hurriedly buried your invitation back in the depths of your brain and quickly went about carrying out the inanimate-object-equivalent of CPR.

“I think I have some super glue back in Ramshackle,” you offered. Even though you knew well enough that he could probably wave his hand and undo the entire thing. But it was the thought that counted, right?

“Supered Glue?” Malleus parroted, his neon eyes darting back and forth between you and the shattered gargoyle like you’d just offered him some mystical panacea. You nodded along and scuttled off in the direction of your dilapidated dorm.

‘Tomorrow,’ you promised yourself, as you rifled through your miscellaneous utilities drawer, tossing around rolls of tape and wads of too-thin elastic bands. ‘Tomorrow I’ll ask him.’

.

.

The next morning, you sat in Potion’s Class with the tacky remnants of last night’s nonsense dried along your fingertips. You sneezed and something ground unpleasantly behind your ear. You reached up to pluck a stray bit of gravel from your hair and flicked it aside.

Normally you tried to give Crewel’s lectures the entirety of your focus, primarily because you respected the man and wanted him to like you. And also, y’know, from the very rational standpoint of not wanting to lose your eyebrows or dignity when an incorrectly brewed potion exploded in your face. But today you were stuck in the clouds, replaying scenario after scenario and wondering what your next step in the whole ‘Ask The Crowned Prince of An Entire Nation Out to Lunch’ situation should be.

Your neck was itching again, and you scrubbed around mindlessly before pulling out another bit of gargoyle debris and tossing it. It bounced harmlessly off Jack’s shoulder.

“Did you get all that?” Your beastman friend asked, beginning the tedious process of organizing your group workstation for the day.

“Oh? Yes. Of course,” you nodded, not having heard a single word of what was going on. You grabbed your little instructions pamphlet for the day and made your way towards your own stool.

Jack turned and narrowed his yellow eyes at you in a way that clearly let you know that that superhuman schnoz of his had sniffed out your bullshit a mile away, but you generally had a better track record than the rest of the first years, so thankfully he let it slide.

Without further ado, you went about heating, and mixing, and tempering. And by the end, the pair of you had a lovely, silver, concoction that popped and fizzled like cola. Professor Crewel paused in his rounds of the rows to stare into your cauldron with an impassive sort of look that could have meant anything from ‘Content’ to ‘Outright Murder.’ Your eyes hastily flickered around the room, but everyone else’s potions looked liked Mercury Sprite too, so you couldn’t have been in too much trouble. You dipped the testing spoon into one of the bubbliest bits and brought it to your mouth to take a teeny sip. It tasted alright, and you smacked your lips as you tried to identify the flavor.

“Well?” The professor droned, crossing his arms over his chest in a fashion that looked entirely unimpressed. “How is it?”

You opened your mouth to reply and nothing came out but static. Literal static. Like you were some overloaded, old, plug—spitting sparks and whiny, high-pitched, nonsense that was most definitely an indication of some sort of fire risk.

Crewel hummed in that self-satisfied sort of way of his—the sort that was only mastered by those who were in the habit of being proven right during every, single, catastrophe.

“The Tickled Tongue recipe is fairly straightforward, you see,” he explained, stepping closer with a languid swishswish of his large overcoat. “It’s difficult to alter without any remarkable change or err. However,” he droned, “it is incredibly similar to the Stone Tongued Elixir. Do you know what the one, unique, ingredient in that brew is in comparison to our assigned project today, Prefect?”

You sighed fuzz.

“Stone,” he said, reaching out to pluck another bit of gravel from your hair.

Crewel brushed his hands against his vest and you debated if it’d be worth it to try jumping out of the window and escape while you still had at least some face.

“I’ve been kind enough to look the other way when you break curfew so that you may continue your… nightly excursions with a certain upperclassman,” he droned, and that open window was looking even more tempting. “But please at least give me the courtesy of cleaning up the evidence before attending my class in the mornings, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to say, but it just sounded like a busted landline.

.

.

“Hello, Child of Man,” Malleus beamed, his lips curling pleasantly at the corners. His usual trio were flanking his hind, all watching with varying degrees of interest that ranged from sharp curiosity (Lilia) to outright hostility (Sebek).  “Would you care to accompany me for lunch?”

You opened your mouth and all that came out was the fucking AOL dial tone.

Lilia doubled over laughing and Malleus tilted his head at you like a dog listening to a whistle tone.

“Pardon?” He blinked.

“BZZZZZZ,” you said, miserable, and Lilia just laughed harder.

.

.

‘Two days left,’ you reminded yourself miserably. You had just under forty-eight wretched hours to not only complete your initial Date Objective, but also somehow do that whole thing while making up for the ego-crushing failures of your first two failures.  

There was a Spelldrive match after classes today—another attempt for Leona to try and get one up on Malleus’s ‘Hall of Fame Worthy’ record before the pair of them aged out of the competition. And maybe that would be perfect! That was always sort of a Thing in teen movies, right? The big, heart wrenching, confession delivered on the field of whatever sport was in season. The fated couple lit all prettily beneath the glaring overhead lights and artfully drenched in a very timely shower of rain. This whole situation was practically writing itself.

So you tucked yourself into a warm, cozy, sweater fit for the breezy day and inevitable aesthetic downpour, and went to sit out in the stands. Which was your first mistake, because the match was being held on Savanaclaw’s practice field. So immediately you could feel sweat pooling along your lower back and along your brow as the magical, overhead, sunshine did its best to seer the flesh right off your bones. Malleus moved to step out onto the field and you went to wave at him enthusiastically, only to catch sight of the giant pit stains steeped into your stupid sweater. The dark spots opened up like the gaping maw on a beast, determined to derive its entire sustenance from your embarrassment alone. You clamped your arms back down to your sides and immediately began questioning the universe at large. Were you a murderer in a past life? Someone who scammed old ladies out of their pensions? What other reason could there be for the entire fucking cosmos to just perpetually go ‘hey, how about we make things worse.’

The game was probably going well or something, but you were swimming in so much swampy body heat at this point that you were starting to get dizzy.

With a sigh, you pulled the cute, wool, deathtrap over your head and tossed it aside—ruffling your sweat sticky hair for good measure to try and get some airflow going. It wasn’t the most dignified look or whatever, sitting there in only the thin cotton undershirt of your uniform and half drowned in your own secretions, but at least you weren’t in imminent danger of dying of heat stroke anymore. You leaned back on your elbows with another much more contented sigh and gave yourself a moment to let the last of that hot nausea settle.

“Oi! You horned bastard! Watch where you’re—”

There was a swirl of spitting green sparks and you looked back out onto the field just in time to get absolutely decimated by a Spelldrive disc to the face.

.

.

“He really didn’t mean it,” Lilia said, but he was laughing so hard into his fist that it was hard to make out anything beyond merry gurgling. “In fact, he’s really very upset about the whole thing.”

You stared blankly at the off-white walls of the infirmary, wondering how it was possible for one person’s luck to be this bad.

“Where is he?” you asked. Your tongue felt thick and sluggish.

“I don’t think he would appreciate me saying that he was off hiding—pouting, even,” the fey tutted, floating up to sit cross-legged at your eyelevel. “But I don’t believe there’s a much more accurate way of putting it.”

“Why would he be hiding?” you trudged forward again, mouth still entirely uncooperative. “I wanted to ask him something,” you admitted, chronically dejected and acutely brain damaged.

“Did you now?” Lilia grinned, something mischievous and far too knowing lighting his wine-red eyes.

You nodded. You could feel the tug of the bandages around your forehead.

“Well, I’ll ask that you be patient with him,” he sighed fondly, reaching out to pat your cheek. “For all his years, our Prince is still a bit stunted.”

“Oh, please! He’s six and a half feet tall!” you complained.

Lilia laughed again, doubling over in the air and doing a full roll about—like a pill bug.

“Oh, dear,” he snickered, wiping a tear from his eye as he straightened back out to lounge upside down by one of the rafters. “You do deserve each other.”

.

.

This was it. The final countdown. Friday.

The Unbirthday Party was this afternoon, and with God and the Heavens as your witness, you would be dragging Malleus Draconia there with you if it was the last thing you did.

‘The hardest part is supposed to be the rejection,’ you thought bitterly. ‘Not that crap leading up to it. This is bullshit. I want a refund.’

But no, if the Universe was going to be so cruel to you, then you were just going to have to be needlessly paranoid and prepared in advance. You set aside two spare sets of clothing and an umbrella. You packed an entire feast’s worth of provisions in case a fucking hole decided to open up in the ground or something and trap you in a cave for a week. You scribbled a little ‘Would you please go with me to the Unbirthday Party today’ on not one, or two, but three separate notes. Each in a different pocket. And laminated. And, perhaps most daring of all, you walked up to Ace and Deuce that morning with a stiff upper lip and an even stiffer spine.

“I’m going to ask Tsunotarou to come to the Unbirthday Party today,” you told them, fighting the urge to twist your hands into your jacket sleeves.

“What?” Ace choked, just as Deuce stepped in to clobber him over the back of the head and tell you very sweetly that he was sure that the House Warden would appreciate that very much.

“You must like him a lot,” your blue haired friend said, polite but clearly also at least a little unnerved.

“Yeah,” you sighed miserably, thinking of each and every horrible failure as the world at large fought your stupid affections at every turn. “I guess I do.”

So you went about your day like a soldier trudging through a warzone—always at the ready for something unknowable to fuck you over yet again. You looked twice around every corner, always let someone else walk through a doorway first, immediately spritzed Azul in the face with a spray bottle when he tried to start a conversation. It wasn’t paranoia when you knew the universe was out to get you.

The school day was coming to an end and so far you’d managed to avoid any catastrophes. When you caught sight Malleus off in the distance, you had to fight down the sudden swell of dueling panic and hope that blocked off your throat. You made eye contact with the fey prince from across the near empty corridor and he seemed to straighten. You took a deep breath and took one step forward, then another.

“Tsunotarou!” you called cheerfully. “I was wondering if you—”

“FIRE!” Crowley wailed, careening around the corner with all the urgency of someone who very much genuinely cared about the safety of their school and all its inhabitants. Which was outright ridiculous. His glowing, golden, eyes locked on you like you’d been the target of this caterwauling all along, and you wanted to scream. “Ah! My most darling and favorite of Prefects! You have to help! There’s a fire in—”

“No,” you snarled, like some great monster of old. And you watched the Headmaster pale beneath his bird mask. You reached out to pat his shoulder with a pleasantly threatening thump. thump. thump. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to sort it out on your own, sir. Have a lovely afternoon!”

And before you could chicken out, or something else could happen—like a tornado ripping the entire school up at its base and flinging you into Oz—you rushed forward and latched onto Malleus’s sleeve with a wide, panicked, sort of look in your eyes. Hisown eyes went round and wide, but he didn’t pull away, so step one complete.

“Please come to Heartslaybul’s Unbirthday Party with me!” You entreated. “As my date! With me! Together!” you word vomited, clutching at his sleeve even tighter.

“Oh,” Malleus breathed—those sharp, reptilian, pupils of his jumping into something soft and huge that swallowed the green of his irises in a sea of black. A pale, rose, pink crept along the tips of his pointed ears and you could feel your own cheeks blazing like a bonfire.

“Yup,” you nodded lamely, realizing you were still clutching his hand like a starving leper.

“Lilia had mentioned that you might…” he trailed off, gaze sliding to your fingers tangled beside his. “I hadn’t thought that—well…” He cleared his throat and stood to his full height with a puff that almost looked prideful. “Nevertheless,” he grinned, almost shy, and offered you his arm. “Shall we?”

You were going to die. Keel over. That would be the cosmos’s final strike against you. But though your heart beat like a rapid drum in your chest, you didn’t actually collapse in cardiac arrest. Your blood felt warm, but not with fever. It was… You’d actually done it!

You fought the urge to squeal and instead ducked excitedly against Malleus’s side with a secret little fist bump. His arm wound snuggly through yours and you were still too high on the thrill of victory to even consider being embarrassed about it.

“It may surprise you to know,” he said as you walked together towards the Queen of Heart’s Dormitory. “That I actually was attempting to ask something similar of you for this past week as well.”

“Really?” you gaped.

He nodded. “But it seemed as though fate itself was conspiring against me. The first evening went poorly, and then the next day you’d been cursed into silence. And you even ended up injured during one of my attempts.”

“The Spelldrive disc?” you blinked.

“Unfortunately,” Malleus sighed, leading you towards the familiar rose gardens. Which were lovely as always, and perfectly well painted for the afternoon’s festivities, and—

And… also on fire.

“Well what do you know…” you mumbled as you watched a furious Riddle chase a screeching Ace through the flaming fields. Trey had his head in his hands. Cater was filming the whole thing with an artful smear of ash drawn across his cheek.

Malleus made a low rumble of discontentment and you immediately swung the pair of you around to start heading back towards the Mirror Chamber.

“Not to worry!” you beamed, pointedly jostling the full picnic lunch in your bag. Sure, it hadn’t ended up being a gaping hole that had dragged you straight into the bowels of the abyss, but hey. Hellfire was hellfire. “I came prepared.”

“So did I,” Malleus smirked, the points of his canines peaking out of his lower lip. He twisted his fingers and the pair of you were surrounded in puffs of floating, sparkling, green lights.

And despite the Universe technically, yet again, having come out on top and flipped you and your date the proverbial middle finger, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be too upset at all.

.

.

[dystopyx-blog]

ranking twst characters based off of how badly I want at least one plush of them

Psssst if you want to support my goal to have at least one twst plushie, you can check out my commissions

[pinkbeeps]

Check out this AWESOME commission by @beepathan for my story, Sympathy For the Villain!!!!

(who's ready for the next intermission 😂)

[azulsluver]

COMMISION RULES

Please DM me if you have any questions or wish to commission from me.

Fandoms I currently write for: [Jojo’s Bizarre Adventures] - [Twisted Wonderland] - [Team Fortress 2] - [Hetalia]

Doing oc x character + self-insert x character only

Will do —F/M, F/F, M/M, etc.

Like my basic rules featured on my pinned post. Here is the link.

Just to be clear, no nsfw, however can be implied or mild.

Be specific of what you want and how it will go down! The time I’ll allow a very over-detailed description!

AU’s can be commissioned— those I havent written for a complete introduction of said AU’s will be explained when DMing me privately.

Please send a picture or sheet of your oc/self-insert, along with an explanation of backstory and personality (unless you wish to type that out for me that’s fine as well.)

COMMISSION PAYMENT

CashApp payment only (atm)

Personally prefer to do an upfront-payment

If you’re worried about getting scammed, a half-way payment is also another option. Please message me if you are wondering for any updates.

PRICES

(USD) $10 — 300 - 500 words

(USD) $20 — 1k - 3k words

(USD) $40.50 — 4k - 6k words

(USD) $65 — 7k - 9k words MAXIMUM!!

Additional characters (oc/canon characters) [+$5] ••• no more than 3 characters can be requested.

Suggestive/implied themes [+$2]

Doodles n comics attached [+$10] • coloring+ [+$2]

SLOTS AVAILABLE

Short stories [0/5] = 300-500 wrd

Mid-length stories [0/4] = 1k-3k wrd

Stories [0/3] = 4k-6k + 7k-9k wrd

[topzsun]

COMMISSIONS OPEN !

Hi everyone! For the time being, I am opening up writing commissions. If you are interested in commissioning me, my dms are always open! You can also contact me through my discord (topzsun) if Tumblr messaging doesn't suit your fancy. All payments will be done via Ko-fi (you don't need to make a Ko-fi account yourself to donate or buy!) My pricing (AUD) and fandom list can be found below. Please keep my do's and don't in mind before requesting, and if you have questions on anything please let me know. Thank you so much, everybody!

[pddngchi-artblog]

📌WANT TO SEE YOUR FAVS KISSING? OR DO YOU WANT TO KISS THEM INSTEAD?📌

Hiya! I'm Pudding, though some people know me as either Deku or Chi ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱⊹♡

If the header caught your attention, then the following probably applies to you:

• You're a rareshipper that wants to see more art/fanfics of your ship; • You're a yumeshipper enthusiast; • You're a roleplayer that's in need of some icons; or • You have a Discord server that needs some new emotes;

Regardless, if you need your ships drawn, your OCs drawn (whether fandom or original), or just needs some icons—you're in the right place!

📌MY ART & WRITING COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!📌

This blog is mostly dumps of my art ranging from sketches, doodles, or illustrations. I suppose it's a gallery of sorts!

If you want to contact me for a commission, my DMs are open (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ if you just want to chat, my asks are open too!

My top two fandom interests right now are IDENTITY V and TWISTED WONDERLAND! So if you have any OCs or ships you want drawn or written for it, feel free to contact me ദ്ദി（• ˕ •マ.ᐟ

☛ GENERAL RULES FOR COMMISSIONING ☚

Here's the general rules for both my art and writing commissions! If you need to clarify anything, just DM me and I'll be happy to help!

☛ ART RATES ☚

Please note that the prices for dollars and pesos are not interchangeable! These rates are different from each other ദ്ദി（• ˕ •マ

I’ll only be accepting payment through GCash for Filipino clients and PayPal for international clients!

☛ SAMPLE ART ☚

The sample art included here have their rates summed according to the type of art a client might want!

☛ WRITING RATES ☚

It's not included in the image below, but if you want to read about my works, you can look up XelSaji on ao3 or twst-campos13 here on Tumblr! I don't just write about ships, I can also write drabbles for characters or do a write-up about your OCs!

Links to my favorite works:

we'll meet again; some sunny day; a two-chapter fic on Miles and Michiko's union mama's boy; papa's boy; a relationship study between Floyd and Riddle If the Shoe Fits; a multi-chapter character study of the dorm leaders if they were assigned to different dormitories

Thank you for taking the time to read this! I'll be posting all my art in this blog, I hope you guys look forward to it!

[iidias]

hi guys im taking commissionz :3

headcanons - 2$

ficlet (500-1000 words) - 5$

im comfortable writing writing almost anything but: vore, scat, and p{do shit

i write for female, male, and gn reader

writing for ;

twisted wonderland

degrees of lewdity

[twstgarden]

—✦ ❝𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬❞

❝ 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐥 ❞

➻ pleasant greetings to you all, my lovely daisies! your florist has decided to open commissions for both writing and match-ups to celebrate the 700 follower count. i've included the rules, prices, and other necessary details listed under the cut. ➻ thank you so much to all those who read, liked, commented, and reblogged my writing! i enjoy reading your notes and i appreciate every like and reblog ♥

❝ 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 ❞

➻ writing commissions: open ↪ open slots: 4/5 ➻ match-up commissions: open ↪ open slots: 5/10

— commissions details — 

➻ commissions event duration: until all slots are filled

❝ 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 ; 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ❞

— a lotus flower's narrative is like the usual story writing that i post in this blog. this is open to twisted wonderland only and covers all genres listed in the original rules list. the following characters are available for this commission listing:

‣ all heartslabyul characters (riddle, trey, cater, ace, deuce) ‣ all savanaclaw characters (leona, ruggie, jack) ‣ all octavinelle characters (azul, jade, floyd) ‣ all scarabia characters (kalim, jamil) ‣ all pomefiore characters (vil, rook, epel) ‣ all ignihyde characters (idia, ortho) ‣ all diasomnia characters (malleus, lilia, silver, sebek) ‣ all yuus (yuuken, yuuka, yuuta, yuuya) ‣ all nrc staff (dire, divus, ashton, mozus, sam) ‣ all side characters (rollo, fellow, gidel, knight of dawn, etc.)

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋'𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ; 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡-𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 ❞

— the carnation petal's foresight is the match-up bundle listing. this is open to three (3) fandoms: twisted wonderland, honkai: star rail, genshin impact. this is called a bundle because one match-up commission includes three (3) categories, namely:

‣ main match (platonic, romantic, or both) ‣ voice lines (from 5 random characters) ‣ fandom-centred inclusion (dormitory match for twst, paths match for hsr, vision match for genshin)

— pricing — 

❝ 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 ; 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ❞

‣ $ 2 per 100 words regardless of the type and genre

↪ for example, a 1,500-word oneshot costs $ 30

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋'𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ; 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡-𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 ❞

‣ $ 3 per category in one fandom

↪ 1 fandom = 3 categories, so $ 3 x 3 categories for one fandom = $ 9 ; 2 fandoms = 6 categories, so $ 3 x 6 categories for two fandoms = $ 18 ; 3 fandoms = 9 categories, so $ 3 x 9 categories for three fandoms = $ 27 ↪ if you add another category (for example, you purchase both platonic and romantic matches instead of just one of the two), an additional charge of $ 3 will be added to your total.

— general rules — 

all the general rules listed in the original rules list still apply. those listed below are just additional rules used for commissions.

— commission details are sent by filling out this form.

‣ for systemised and organised purposes, you may fill out this form to indicate all the details of your commission. this is only for sending out the details, any other relevant topics shall be discussed through various channels. you can reach out to me through tumblr's dm system, instagram, and email.

— payments can be made through paypal, buy me a coffee or ko-fi.

‣ this is my first time opening commissions, so i confess that i do not know how the payment methods work as i do not use paypal as one of my daily payment methods. i have set everything to a default, so the payment currency is in USD $, only because SAR is not an option in the currency list. (update: 03/13/2024) i discovered that paypal's fees are quite huge here in my place, so i opted to try buy me a coffee instead. ko-fi is still available only if you can't send it through buy me a coffee. links to both sites are at the bottom of this post. (update: 04/19/2024) i am having issues with my payout on buy me a coffee so i am unlinking it first!

— payment options are flexible.

‣ my payment options are entirely flexible. you may pay upfront at the moment of sending the commission request, you may pay half during the requesting period and the other half once the commission is done, or you can pay the full amount once the commission is done. if you decide to pay the full amount once the commission is done, you will need to send the payment before i post or send the commission.

— once payment is made, you cannot cancel or withdraw from our agreement. alternatively, once i have already started working on your commission halfway through, you cannot back out at the last minute.

‣ since my payment options are flexible, the way you pay me is entirely your choice, and i have naturally given you enough time to ponder whether you are sure about this commission or not. once you have sent a payment, whether it is half or full, you cannot cancel or withdraw from our agreement or ask for a refund.

‣ additionally, even if you opted for a flexible payment, you cannot withdraw or cancel once i have started halfway through your commission or once i am finished. i don't want to experience completing a commission only for the requester to back out at the last minute again. it takes me 2 to 7 days to complete a commission, so please keep that in mind.

— suggestive content is fine, but no nsfw.

‣ i am 20, but i want to keep this blog open to all ages. i can write suggestive themes and whatnot, but i do not know how to write pure nsfw, so i will not include that in my content.

— reposting is okay as long as you link it back to me.

‣ you can repost the commissions since you did pay for it, after all. however, i would appreciate if you tag me in it.

— commissions are posted on tumblr publicly unless requested to be posted on another platform or privately.

‣ all commissions are automatically posted on tumblr. however, if you wish to post it on another platform, i can do so. you also have the option to have the commission publicly or privately. publicly would mean i will be posting it on tumblr or another platform, and privately would mean i will send it to you via our direct messaging platform as a pdf file, or google drive link, etc.

— writing rules — 

all the writing rules listed in the original rules list still apply. those listed below are just additional rules used for commissions.

— detailed.

‣ detailed commission requests allow me to finish it faster. however, you can still be a bit vague, but it might take a while for me to complete it as i still have to think of a perfect way to do the commission to your liking.

— reader-insert by default, ocs are fine.

‣ this blog has been known to be a twst reader-insert fic provider, so it is highly appreciated to request a reader-insert to allow everyone to indulge themselves in the story. however, you can still request for an oc, especially if you want the commission to be sent privately.

— child characters are naturally strictly not allowed for anything romance-related.

‣ though you may know this by now, i will reiterate again. child characters (ortho, gidel, etc.) are strictly not allowed to be included in romance genres (story or matchup-wise).

— no limits.

‣ though the original rules list states that there is a dormitory and character limit, there is no limit when it comes to commissions. you may request as many characters and as many dormitories as you want, but do keep in mind that the word count and the pricing will be affected.

— matchup bundle rules — 

all the matchup rules listed in the original rules list still apply. those listed below are just additional rules used for commissions.

— specify the nature of the relationship.

‣ although the form already establishes the question of whether you want a platonic, romantic, or both of the matches, this is a reminder to not forget to specify. if you don't, i will automatically do romantic as that is the default of my matchup requests.

— child characters are not an option.

‣ this is already a widely known fact, but child characters (ortho, bailu, qiqi, etc.) are not an option in the results and possible matches.

— state the fandom.

‣ the form has already established the question of which fandom you want to be matched in. you have the option to choose one, two, or all three, but do keep in mind that it affects the pricing.

➻ i believe that is all of the details needed, but you may freely DM me as you wish! this is my first time opening commissions, so i apologise for any inconvenience if there are any ♥ relevant links: ➻ commissions form ➻ buy me a coffee ➻ ko-fi ➻ original rules list (this is not for commissions) ➻ catalogue (if you want to check my work)

[celesteskingdom]

Writing Commissions

As a broke college student, I do wish to earn money..so I also do writing commissions! Genuinely, I'll write multi chapter fics for you if you pay me.

As of right now, these are my price ranges (in USD):

500-1000 words - 5$

2-3k words - 10$

4-5k - 25$

5k+ - Depends, starts at 30$+, though.

Yes, I will write NSFW.

Depending on the topic, I'll write academic essays as well.

My writing portfolio:

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1yOQBnjEuGNiD6J6LIwDtY0_lmmadCMjn

[takuyakistall]

sweet spots

— Commission piece for @ai-kan1's OC, Juno, and Ace!

It was no wonder that Ace knew a handful of stuff—whether it was taken from someone else or maybe he even made it up himself. But, believing them was a different matter. He's caught a lot of tidbits here and there but it never meant that he was the type to blindly believe in such sayings or rumours.

However, there was one short saying that caught his eye. He managed to overhear it from a bunch of students while he was running an errand for Professor Divus. Slacking, while on the job, was something the professor loathed but that didn't seem to stop him anyway when Ace leaned against the wall just to listen in to their conversation after his interest was piqued.

"Hey, guess what I saw today online."

"I thought I just told you to not believe everything you see online."

"Ugh, I know. But, listen, it's not as if I believe it but it's really interesting. Look!"

"Huh…? 'Moles are in places where you were kissed the most in your past life'? What is this?"

"Eh? Exactly what it says. Moles are in places where you got kissed the most in your past life—I thought the title was pretty self-explanatory."

"No, I mean, why is this so interesting to you?"

"C'mon, even if it isn't true, doesn't it seem romantic? Look, you even have ones here on your—"

Ace promptly left the scene. He's heard enough, he didn't want to linger longer to hear them start flirting with each other. It was painfully obvious that even Ace felt a little bad. Soon enough, he finished what he was asked to do but the conversation prior still lingered in his mind.

"Moles…" He muttered under his breath, his brain trying to formulate a coherent thought to figure out why it's been haunting him. Then, as if fate would have it, a sudden face flashed inside his head, rendering him speechless and flustered—albeit slightly.

He wondered if Juno had any moles.

He stopped in his tracks and thought to himself: Oh, that's a dangerous thing to think about.

But, like any other good student, curiosity was a trait he had. Maybe he should ask, just for curiosity's sake. Though, frankly, he knew deep down that it wouldn't help his situation at all if Juno ended up revealing any moles he had on his body.

He paused and came to a conclusion.

Yeah, maybe I should ask.

Ramshackle felt cozy around this hour. Ace always liked hanging around during this time of day after classes ended and it's no one but him and Juno inside the building (usually Grim would be there but he had "important" matters to attend to).

Ace crashed into the couch, letting out a deep groan as he stretched his arms. He fell slump against the armrest, eyes closed, and started whining. "Argh… I'm tired."

"Tell me about it." Juno followed suit, crashing alongside him and leaning against the other armrest of the couch. He let out a sigh, his eyes distant, "I don't wanna think about going back to class tomorrow."

"Don't skip." Ace clicked his tongue, lightly flicking Juno's skin in a playful manner—a small smirk appearing on his face. "Class is boring without you."

"All you do is keep bothering me anyway," Juno recounted the times Ace sent paper airplanes or notes his way. Only for him to unfold it and read out the most nonsensical and ridiculous messages ever. Sometimes, Ace would even mess with his hair—twirling his hair around his finger while absentmindedly listening to whatever the teacher had to say. He sighed, continuing, "But I won't skip."

Ace let out a chuckle and then a breathy laugh. His expression smug when he reaches out to pinch Juno's cheek playfully while saying, "Of course you wouldn't. You'd miss me too much."

He loved how the rosy tint spread on Juno's cheeks in just a few seconds as he pinned his gaze somewhere else.

Huffing, he covered his mouth and retorted. "Who told you that?"

"Well, it's obvious now isn't it?" He pushed further, "You wouldn't have that kind of reaction if it was a lie, haha!"

Juno stared at him with a bewildered expression, eyebrows furrowed just slightly and the tips of his lips tugging up into a small, uncontrollable grin. "Haha, I guess I am obvious."

Juno set his arm down facing up and Ace caught sight of something.

A familiar question popped up inside his head again and his eyes widened ever so slightly, it was difficult to catch the way his eyes transitioned to full focus on something else.

"Hey, Juno."

"Yes?"

"You got a mole on your wrist?" An innocent and harmless question—he was glad that the question disguised itself as one. Otherwise, Juno would've known he was up to some sort of mischief.

Juno's eyes lit up a little at the random question as he held up his wrist, close enough for Ace to see it in its entirety. "I do. It's pretty noticeable, isn't it? Everyone keeps noticing it."

"Huh? Really?" He never noticed it before.

Ace wrapped his fingers around his wrist, thumb smoothing over the skin where his mole was. It was a strange gesture, it made Juno pause as the odd sense of embarrassment sunk into his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking at it. Duh."

"You don't have to hold my wrist like this if you're just looking." Juno protested, trying to shake him away but Ace was oddly persistent. "I think you've looked enough."

Ace shook his head, sighing, "Listen to me for a second."

"What is it this time?" Juno groaned, tilting his head.

"I heard this really interesting thing just earlier—"

"I thought we told you to stop eavesdropping on others already?" Juno interjected and Ace couldn't help but sigh in frustration.

"—Not the point right now. Anyways, as I was saying, I heard this thing earlier." He paused, choosing his next words. "It was something about moles."

Now this caught Juno's attention. It might explain to him his sudden interest in his mole.

"What is it?"

"Haha… Something about them being places you were kissed the most in your past life, I think?"

"Oh?" Somehow, the next few events became predictable.

The next thing he knew, Ace raised Juno's wrist closer to his face—his lips hovering over his mole. His lips barely ghosted over his skin as Ace looked at Juno straight in the eyes, a mischievous grin on his face.

Everything clicked inside Juno's head. "Hey, what do you think you're doing—!?"

Promptly, Ace placed a chaste kiss over the mole. It was supposed to be a single, quick kiss but somehow it didn't end there. Once more, Juno tried shaking him off but he never let him.

"Stay still," Ace's voice was low. His breath was hot against his skin. "I just want to give justice to those rumours, y'know?"

He pulled away, finally, and looked at him with a cheeky expression—a smirk on his lips as he cocked his head to the side. "You got any more moles anywhere on your body?"

"Why would I tell you that now that I know what you're gonna do?" Juno puffed his cheeks in protest, still trying to pry Ace off as he tilted his head in frustration.

Oh—! Ace thought. His eye caught another one. Just below his jaw, close to his ear. Without missing another beat, Ace leaned in closer and placed his lips closer to his neck. Just barely, enough to taunt Juno with the ghost of his lips on his skin.

"What—? How'd you even find that from afar!?"

"I guess I just have good eyesight~?" Juno let out another groan when Ace finally pressed his lips against his neck. It felt embarrassing—insanely so. He felt like he could melt with the way Ace's lips refused to leave his neck.

"Hey, that's enough—" but soon, the words got caught up in his throat when Ace pulled away. It was far too early to breathe a sigh of relief when he came crashing down once more to steal his lips away this time as he robbed Juno of his words.

He was aggressive in his pursuit but never enough to hurt him—it was always intended to fluster him, to sweep him off his feet to the point that he couldn't retaliate; Ace was mean to him in this way.

When he pulled away, Juno silently hoped that it was the final one. His hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed with a familiar pink, and he couldn't help but pout a little at the gesture.

"There wasn't even a mole near my lips." He huffed.

Ace could only laugh in response, satisfied with how things played out for him. "It doesn't really matter to me. The whole mole thing was just an excuse to kiss you in the first place."

Juno narrowed his eyes but bit back a retort. Still, he felt a little lightheaded and thought that he could let himself get carried away while the mood called for it.

He paused, thinking to himself before opening his mouth.

"Hey, Ace, do you have any moles on you?"

From there, the following events were predictable—awfully so. Ramshackle was lively that very evening.

[jovianisjovial]

!! JOVIAL COMMISSIONS !!

Commissions are non-refundable! Please DM/PM me if you have any concerns or questions regarding this before your purchase.

STATUS : OPEN

FANDOMS : Twisted Wonderland, Genshin impact, PHIGHTING!, Honkai Star Rail, Honkai Impact 3rd, Reverse 1999, SCP Foundation, Hazbin Hotel. If you have a request for a fandom not listed, please dm me.

YES/DO’S : x reader (Any gender), self/oc insert, ships, poly, yandere, platonic/romantic scenarios, fluff, angst, crackfics, smaus, au’s (any), etc.

Headcanons; 90-150 words or so in length! | 5 USD |

Short fanfic; 400-600 words or so in length! | 5 USD |

Medium fanfic; 800-1.4k words in length! | 15 USD | 

Long fanfic; 1.4-2k words in length! | 20 USD |

Book ; 5 chapters in length, each chapter is 800-1.1k+ words | $55 USD

SMAU story ; 19-23 chapters, at least 3 full written parts. | $45 USD

ADDITIONAL CHARGES WILL BE ADDED FOR, extra chapters/wordcount/bullet points.

Commission me now on Patreon — [ dm me beforehand if you have any questions ]

[dilatorywriting]

The Prince & The Pauper Prefect

Gender Neutral Reader x Prince Stefan (Twst OC) Word Count: 5.9k

Summary: 'Dear Ramshackle Prefect, you are cordially invited to tour the Royal Sword Academy at your leisure. We hope our libraries may have something of use to aid in your journey home. And if perhaps you find our facilities to your taste, we would be more than happy to extend you a more permanent invitation.’ Clearly, nothing about this could go wrong at all.

A/N: A commission for the very lovely @thefiasco-onyourblock. I'm having so much fun with all y'alls ideas, and this is one of the few that was asked to be public, so I'm happy you all get to see it! It was a lot of fun to dive back into this himbo~

You’d just stumbled your way back onto Ramshackle’s sagging porch after your second third fourth foray into this wonderful new world of Near-Death Experiences when the letter arrived.  It popped into existence in a pleasant burst of bubbles and sparks—a scroll of soft, cream, paper stamped with a shimmering wax seal that looked like it could have been melted down out of literal gold. You waved a hand under it, over it, all around the thing in grand loop-de-loop. The letter just kept hovering in place, occasionally spitting out another bout of multicolored sparkles.

“Hello?” you tried, cautious, and the thing crinkled at the corners. Like it was trying to wave back at you.

You glared up at the grey sky for a moment, daring whatever higher power existed in this stupid world to try fucking with you yet again, before reaching out to grab the ridiculous, magic, note.

It unrolled at your touch, like a cat stretching when you scratched along its spine. And instead of some horrible prank or wayward contract, you were greeted with an opportunity.

.

.

“POACHERS!” Crowley howled.

You sighed and rested your chin in your palm. “So can I go?”

“INTERLOPERS!” he forged onwards, waving the letter back and forth like a parent raging over a bad report card. “Who do they think they are?! Trying to swipe my most precious intern—student! My most precious and beloved of students!—out from under my nose?! As if I wouldn’t be able to see through something so—so—ACK!”

“I mean,” you grumbled miserably under your breath, “it is a pretty long nose. Could hide a lot under there.”

He turned on you with a gasp, like you’d just insulted his mother. Or… whatever the Headmaster’s no doubt vaguely evil and eldritch equivalent would be. 

“It’s a mask! A mask!”

He crumpled the letter petulantly between his clawed fingers and went to hurl it to the ground, but the paper smoothed itself out with another one of those magical ‘pops!’ and floated up on an artificial breeze to land neatly in your lap. Crowley sneered at the thing like he was planning to light it on fire, and honestly, with how strange and ethereal this little letter was, you sort of wanted to see him try.

“I think it’s a perfectly reasonable opportunity,” Professor Trein shrugged, unbothered by his superior’s usual nonsense.

“It’s not as if the Royal Sword Academy is known for their treachery,” Professor Crewel added, sounding a bit like the acknowledgement had to be yanked out of his mouth with a pair of pliers. He glanced your way for a moment with those narrowed, steely, eyes of his before turning that glare back on the old crow. “And in comparison, I don’t think any of us can truthfully claim that Night Raven has provided a particularly safe learning environment for the Prefect.”

Crowley sniffed, indignant. “A sprinkling of danger is all part of the educational experience!”

Trein sighed and Crewel pinched at his brow like he was fighting the start of a migraine.

“They’re just offering to let me look through their library archives for more information on how I could find a way home,” you tried, and then leaned forward conspiratorially. “Which would mean less work for you, you know.”

For a moment you could see the calculations whirling behind those glowing, yellow, eyes—the promise of entirely unearned vacation time and accolades for tasks he’d had absolutely bupkis to do with. But then the sharp line of his mouth hardened in determination and he turned away from you with a huff.

“We’ll discuss this betrayal of yours later—when my poor, old, heart has had some time to stitch itself back together!” he harumphed and you sighed miserably. Then he snapped his fingers with a little ‘ah!’ and turned on you with a perfectly sunny smile. “And of course there’s the VDC to plan for! Do get on that, my favorite, little, busy bee!”

Afterwards you stood in the little alcove outside of Crowley’s office, the golden letter clutched tightly in your fists. The soft edges of the scroll lifted to curl around your knuckles, like a gentle reassurance. Before you could work yourself up into getting too upset about the unfairness of it all, Professor Crewel placed a hand on your shoulder with a heavy sigh.

“I’ll drop you off Monday morning.”

You fought the tremble that was doing its best to turn your mouth into a wobbling mess, and turned to launch yourself into his furs with a crushing hug. The alchemist patted your back with a great deal of aggrieved grumbling, but he didn’t bother to push you away either, so he probably didn’t mind you creasing his coat as much as he said he did.

.

.

Your assurance that this was just a jaunt through the RSA’s library had been… mostly a fib. Or at least, deceptive in the same way that the sweeping, cursive, missive was also sort of sneaky. You’d dealt with enough genuine schemers at this point to recognize subtle promises woven into the words of the well-meaning.

‘And if perhaps you find our facilities to your taste, we would be more than happy to extend you a more permanent invitation.’

You sighed and tucked the letter into your bag. It felt a bit wrong to be ducking away from your friends and your hovel of a home like a thief absconding in the night. But this was just… You were just looking. Spending a day away from the cloying, tarry, taste of pooling blot, and the endless runaround of all your little duties, and Crowley was not nearly the same as flipping your new friends the bird and fucking off into the sunset.

You repeated this to yourself ad nauseum as you pulled on your cleanest uniform, and then again throughout the entirety of the drive down the coast, and then more when Crewel waved you out of his car with a pointed look, leaving you at the RSA’s doorstep with a little shoo shoo gesture to get you moving.

Everything was so white. And not the gentle sort of lightness that came with nice things like fluffy sheep or foam off rolling ocean waves. It was sterile—so sharply bright in the morning light that it was nearly blue. The brick path beneath your feet was white, the guardrails lining the walkways were white, the walls of the looming castle, the impressive archways, the fluttering flags bearing the school’s regal coat of arms—all bone-bleached beneath the sun and shimmering like the architecture itself had literally been polished to a gleam. The only variation to be seen amidst the sea of monochromatic brilliance was the occasional pop of a cerulean spire—like some sort of awful party hat to top off the whole mess of it.

Say what you might about Night Raven’s gothic chic and whole ‘I mean, of course the cobwebs in the halls are Intentional’ aesthetic, but at least walking around the drab buildings there didn’t leave you feeling like someone had just set off a camera flash in your face. You felt like you were dirtying the roads by just existing near them. How did anything ever get done here without everyone having to constantly stop just to sweep up their footprints behind them?!

But such was the way of this dumb world apparently. Everything had to operate in extremes—nothing could just be normal. Real. It was all some fairytale recreation, varying only in if it fell hard on one side of the spectrum or the other.

You pulled out the letter with a sigh, and began roving over the contents yet again to see where exactly you were supposed to be headed. This whole fieldtrip turning into a miserable confirmation of your unintended loyalty to Night Raven or otherwise, at least you might be able to get some information out of these promised libraries.

You managed to cross a sweeping stone bridge, descend three separate flights of stairs, and follow nearly half a dozen signs with little, circled, stars on them before realizing you were probably only making things worse for yourself. You were still on one of those glistening, pearlescent, pathways, but now there were trees everywhere. It was a far cry from the twisting, black, forests smattered throughout Night Raven’s estate. Light filtered down pleasantly through the lush trees and the air was so nicely scented with flowers and pine that it was almost like someone had gone through with a bottle of Perfume de Forest and personally spritzed each and every plant. Which—ugh. Even the birds seemed to singing in tempo to some pre-orchestrated song. It was trippy.

But speaking of trippy—

You were so busy glaring suspiciously at a tree with a literal smiley face twisted into its bark that you didn’t notice the drop-off until it was too late. To be fair, it was still all very lovely—an overhang leading to a crystalline lake that bubbled gently under the roar of nearby waterfall. No jagged rocks at the bottom or anything. You probably wouldn’t even have to tumble all the way into the water, just into the little ditch about ten feet down. But of course, all that didn’t stop you from ‘eeping’ inelegantly in a panic as you stepped over the edge and started to fall.

And then you jerked back with a wheeze when something caught you around the collar of your uniform and tugged. You flailed wildly as you were hauled back up and into the air, and something behind you made a high-pitched, nervous, whinnying noise.

“Woah, woah, woah! Easy! Easy! You’re going to send all three of us over, you big baby!”

The huffing, angry, noises just got worse and you were dropped unceremoniously back on the pathway you’d wandered off from just in time to see a pair of hooves come crashing down precariously close to where you’d been dumped. You scurried back in a hurry, because you’d survived too much nonsense at this point to get taken out from something as mundane as a kick to the head.

The horse eventually got its singular braincell working well enough to realize it had to back away from the ledge, and you were finally able to look upon your savior without being too worried about taking a hoof to the face.  

He was clearly an RSA student, what with the garishly bleached uniform and impeccably put together everything. There was a crimson cloak tossed over one of his shoulders though, which did more to break the monotony of colorless brightness than any other architecture in the entire campus, so well done him you supposed. There was a sort of effortless attractiveness to everyone in this stupid world, but your new acquaintance in particular seemed to fall hard into that ‘windswept, accidental model’ sort of look, with loose brown hair falling in a neat fringe over his forehead, and wide, warm, hazel eyes. He looked a bit like the sort of person that a school might slather on all their recruitment posters to be like ‘see! We have jocks that know how to shower and brush their hair! Look how put together we are!’

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking down at you with a canted head—curious. “You don’t look a student here.”

“I’m not,” you sighed, making your way to your feet with a sore grumble. “I have an invitation. I’m just trying to find the Headmaster’s Office,” you said, holding out the letter like a hall pass.

“Oh!” He chirped, brightening. “I can show you the way,” He offered. “Not that I’m in trouble enough to know the way there by heart or anything, but I guess just enough that there isn’t too much of a chance that I’ll get the both of us lost,” he winked and you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. Normally this sort of overly familiar banter meant you were about to get dragged into all sorts of Shenanigans.

Before you could decide whether to take the chance or politely decline, his stupid, too big, horse reared its head back with a frustrated huff. Mister Red Cloak took the mini-tantrum in stride, despite the fact that the thing had nearly just clocked him right in the face with a head that looked as solid as a boulder.

“Oh, come now,” he sighed, patting the beast’s neck. “We can finish the course later. Don’t be a baby.”

The horse made some sort of unpleasant shrieking noise like some nightmare creature from just beyond the gates of Hell that had you flinching back to avoid being Murdered, but its rider simply rolled his eyes and tugged sharply at the reins.

“What do you think, huh? Just this once?” he asked, leaning forward over the withers to talk to the raging horse in its face. Like a lunatic. “For an extra bucket of oats? And maybe, just a few—” cue an absolutely horrendous eyebrow waggle, “carrots?”

And then the horse tossed its head back with a whinny that should absolutely not have sounded anything like a ‘hell yeah! Whatever you say, dude!’ before turning and prancing around you in tight, bouncy, circles. You scrunched in on yourself, because the thing was still probably a thousand pounds of muscle and flailing limbs. Even if it wasn’t actively huffing at you anymore, now it was just getting closer faster.

“You really don’t have to,” you tried. “Just point me in the right direction and I can find my own way.”

“Nonsense!” he chirped, dropping down from the saddle to land before you in the grass with a heavy thud. He brushed at his trousers, as if he wasn’t expecting his hands to come back completely clean. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on him. “What sort of savior would I be if I let you get lost in the wild and wonderful woods of this grand institution?”

“I can see the castle,” you griped, pointing to the blue peaks over the trees.

“Last I checked, you can see it from the entrance too,” he smiled and gestured to the forested path around you, chuffing a bit like he was laughing under his breath. “Must’ve been quite a turnaround, to wind up here anyways.”

Instantly you felt your hackles rising and a familiar, prickly, heat work its way up into your cheeks.

“Thank you, for your concern,” you grit out and swiveled on your heel. “But I guess even I should be able to find my way eventually.”

The pleasantly amused expression on the brunette’s face instantly fell and he darted back in front of you with a grimace.

“Sorry—that was. Sorry. I guess I put my foot in my mouth,” he rushed out. A gloved hand came up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You snorted and glared off into the trees.

“Now you really have to let me show you the way,” he laughed, stilted and bordering on too polite. “For making an ass out of myself like that. It’s the least I can do.”

You glared at him sourly for a moment before sighing and glancing back at the looming Andalusian still prancing along the tree line. “Will… that be coming with us?”

“Helios?” he asked, like you had any concept of what a ‘Helios’ was supposed to be. Probably the horse. “Oh, no, no, no,” he said, waving you off. “He can find his way back to the stables on his own. Right, boy?”

The horse made another one of those high-pitched, blustery, noises and you forcefully reminded yourself that you had faced inky goop monsters that were personifications of your classmates’ literal demons, and also kidnapping plots involving another of said classmates diving into your brain to rewire it like you were his own personal puppet. And in comparison to all those trials, Sentient Animals should not be creepy.

“Fine,” you huffed. “It’s fine. Just—let’s just get going.”

“Right!” he beamed, instantly bouncing back to his earlier enthusiasm. “I’m Stefan, by the way.”

You offered your own name in return, if only to be polite, and he smiled like the fact that you’d managed to grit out those familiar syllables was a gift in and of itself and not just, you know, generic introduction protocol.

“You have a lovely name,” he chirped, falling into step at your side.

You snorted, still a bit too bitter and sore. “You don’t have to try so hard to be nice, you know. To make up for saying something you feel bad about, I mean. It’s fine.”

His blinked his wide, hazel, eyes at you in way that looked a bit like you’d managed to surprise him. His eyelashes were long and soft, and they brushed against his cheeks with each shutter. Never trust people with nice eyelashes, you thought a bit petulantly. You’d known you were right to be cautious.

“You think I’m just saying that because I feel guilty?” he asked, not sounding particularly incredulous or insulted so much as genuinely curious. He tilted his head at you and some of his fringe slipped in front of his eyes, softening the sharp lines of his face. “Do people normally do that?”

You didn’t quite frown at him, but it was a close thing. You could feel your brow pinch.

“…I guess,” you huffed after a long moment, turning to stare back at the path ahead.

“Huh,” he mused, thoughtful. “Well, I really did mean it. And it’s a lot better than my name by far. I mean, really, Stefan? A bit on the nose, don’t you think? ‘Crown?’ Come on. Couldn’t my parents have been anymore original?”

You glanced over at him, a bit lost. “What does that mean?”

“Stefan?” he repeated with another one of those eyelash-sweeping blinks. “It means ‘crown.’”

“No,” you sighed, long suffering. “As in, how is that unoriginal? It’s a nice name.”

“Well, it’s because I—” he trailed off, gaze lingering in open astonishment. After a long moment of gaping at you like he’d just been clobbered across the back of the head with a baseball bat, he finally cleared his throat and looked back off into the trees with a tight shrug. “Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything I guess. Don’t worry about it.” He seemed to chew on that train of thought for a moment or two longer before turning back to face you with a wide grin that was just on the right side of smug. “You think it’s a nice name?”

“Whatever,” you huffed, cheeks starting to heat with something other than bitter chagrin. “Just please get me out of this forest before I fall over another cliff.”

.

.

Headmaster Ambrose the 63rd (the sixty-third! What in the nepo-nonsense was that?!) looked like a wizard straight out of some homey after-school-special, with silver spectacles perched on his rounded nose and a soft, pointed, cap atop his head that flopped endearingly at the tip. He was an antithesis to Crowley in every sense of the word—flowing robes replacing tight vests and formal wear, faded white accents rather than sharp black, and not a single bit of Sparkling Flair to be seen. Like everything else, as nice as he seemed, it was such a stark jump into the opposite direction that it had your hackles raised in caution.

“Our libraries are some of the most extensive in the country,” he smiled, warm and fond. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle behind the rims of his glasses. “I hope you’ll be able to find something that may be of some help to your situation.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said, fighting the insane storybook urge to do something like curtsy.

He waved you off with a gentle shake of the head. “None of that ‘sir’ nonsense. You’re a guest a here! I hope my students have been treating you well?”

Stefan rubbed at the back of his neck and shot his headmaster a sheepish smile that was entirely, unfairly, handsome.

“Doing my best, sir.”

“Good lad,” he hummed, something nearly mischievous sparking in those blue-grey eyes of his. But you were hesitant to label it anything of the sort now that you’d seen what real sneaky nonsense looked like. This was more like… Children’s Program Mischief. That kind that usually involved an adult thinking themselves very clever for being able to sneak some vegetables into an afternoon snack. He turned back on you with that shining smile. “Allow me to find you an escort for the afternoon, and then we can get off to the library.”

“I’d be happy to show them around!” Stefan piped in.

“Is that so,” Ambrose mused, that same little grin playing over his mouth. “I thought you were meant to be in Equestrian Studies at the moment, hmm?”

“Well, I mean,” he spluttered, before collecting his argument and squaring his shoulders with another one of those blindingly bright smiles, “how could I possibly have left someone in need to fend for themselves, sir? I would have brought shame down on this entire institution! Heroes are meant to be made not born, after all!” He boomed, like someone cheering a school’s motto at a sports game.

All of this sounded like the largest crock of self-aggrandizing bullshit you’d ever heard, and by the time you’d had a whole internal debate with yourself over the merits of NRC’s outright nastiness versus this… whatever it was supposed to be, Ambrose was gesturing between the pair of you and saying something that you probably ought to be being paying attention to.

“Thank you, sir!” Stefan grinned, and Ambrose waved him off in that same pleasant way he had you earlier.

“You’re in excellent hands, Prefect,” the Headmaster assured as you were rushed out the door by the guy who was clearly going to be your newest Problem. “Take care! And please let me know if there’s anything at all that we can help you with.”

And then you were back out in the hallway, with Stefan already steering you towards who knew what. The archives, you hoped. But knowing your luck, probably not.

“You must be hungry, right?” he asked, perfectly polite. “Why don’t I take you to the cafeteria before we head over to the library?”

“I’m fine,” you said, just as your stomach gurgled a very loud complaint. You patted at your traitor of an abdomen in a silent reprimand and sighed, “You can just show me the way. I don’t want you to feel like you have to babysit me the whole day.”

“Nonsense,” he beamed, intertwining his arm with yours and tugging you off down another hallway before you could protest. He was so tall, and it should have been hard to keep up with his longer stride, but it wasn’t. “I like spending time with you.”

“What?” you blinked, thrown. Because maybe you’d hit your head or something, but you were pretty sure the last half hour had consisted of very little other than you being grumpy and unpleasant.

He canted his head to look down at you and the corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile.

“You’re nice to talk to,” he said. “Honest, I think. Would be the best way I could describe it. Genuine.” His hazel eyes went a bit distant, wistful. “There aren’t many people here like that. It’s different. Good different,” he promised, the corners of his smile tugging into something a bit teasing.

Your gaze tracked down to the brilliantly blue carpet beneath your feet and then around to the perfectly white walls. Other students filtered by in their starched uniforms and shiny, black, dress shoes—all impeccably groomed and all chattering idle nothings about the weather, about classes, exams. You could see the muddy imprints from your boots trailing along the floor and a few errant bits of grass fell in clumps from where they were still tangled up in your shoelaces. Something tight in you eased a bit at the mess, and you turned back to your companion with a sigh that was bordering far too close on ‘begrudgingly fond’ rather than the properly ‘put upon’ you were aiming for.

“If you say so.”

You hadn’t thought it was possible for the guy’s smile to get brighter, but somehow he managed. You squinted into the warmth of it with a strange, squirmy, feeling in your stomach that you didn’t think had much to do with being hungry.

“Come on then!” he beamed, tugging you along. “We don’t want to miss the Feast!”

“Feast?” you echoed, incredulous.

“With dancing silverware and everything,” he mock-whispered, like a secret just for the two of you.

“What the fuck,” you gaped, brain immediately latching onto the most ridiculous aspect of all of it. “How do you eat anything if it’s dancing?”

Stefan threw his head back with a roaring laugh that had you wanting to sink into your collar with your shoulders hunched up to your ears. But no one stopped to stare, or point, or snicker into their palms at his open enthusiasm. There were a few curious peepers, but once they seemed to identify the source of the noise, they all went back to wandering the halls in their perfectly pressed uniforms with nary a sly comment or sneer to be seen.

“See?” he beamed, tilting sideways to knock his shoulder against yours. “Honest. Now come on—we don’t want to miss out on all the grey stuff. It tastes way better than it sounds, promise.”

.

.

The pair of you entered the cafeteria right at the start of things, with dishes and forks just beginning to fly overhead in waves of strange, blinking, lights and motes of golden sparks. More than a few people waved at Stefan as he walked in, and he returned the greetings with polite, buoyant, ones of his own before herding you to an empty table off to the side.

“You don’t want to sit with your friends?” you asked, brow pinching in confusion.

“Hmm?” he mumbled around a spoonful of something already shoved in his mouth. There wasn’t any kind of plate in front of him, so he must have snatched it right out of the air. He swallowed and reached up to grab another. “Oh, no. That’s fine. Here! Try this!”

You leaned away from the spoon he held up to your lips with a huff and some obligatory complaints about how ‘you could feed yourself just fine, thank you very much.’ You plucked the bit of silverware from his fingers with a wary frown and very tactfully ignored that lingering, fluttering, warmth in your gut that you still hadn’t managed to completely snuff out.

“Is this… grey stuff?”

“Right on the money,” he winked, leaning forward to snatch up another flying fork. “My family’s not usually a fan of more ‘modern’ cuisine, so it’s always a treat to be able to try all the different foods at the Feasts here.”

You looked hesitantly at the goopy mess of monochromatic paste smeared across the spoon, and then back up at Stefan who was casually digging into his own floating mountain of toxic waste with an absolutely enraptured hum of satisfaction.

“Remind me to buy you a grilled cheese or something…” you muttered under your breath, before bravely swallowing the entire spoonful of sludge. And—huh. That was actually… pretty delicious. How weird.

You spent the rest of the luncheon event picking at random bits of floating foods as they danced by. Occasionally Stefan would lean forward to point out his favorites and give recommendations. He was surprisingly observant, despite whatever initial impressions his jock’s jawline and guileless grins may have led you to believe otherwise—taking easy note of the things you pushed aside and the ones you nibbled at more enthusiastically.

“Oh—you missed the desserts,” he lamented as the last remnants of a picked apart pie flew over your head.

“That’s fine,” you said, but he only shook his head and began to drag you off again with another of those brilliant grins.

And so began a weird sort of pseudo treasure hunt, where Stefan would take your hand and haul you off to some random corner of the castle with promises of whatever seemed to strike his fancy, or more accurately you supposed, whatever he seemed to think you might fancy.

“No one really uses this vending machine anymore, but somehow it always restocks and it has the best ice cream bars I’ve ever had. It’s wild! I’m sure you’ll love it!—“

“Oh, it is pretty cold down here, right? I didn’t even think about that. But… hmm… Here! I know the best place to grab a hot chocolate! It’s just over this way a bit—“

“These walls are kind of a drab view, yeah? Here! If we go down this way there’s a great little area to sit where you can see the whole bay—“

By the end of things, somehow you ended up back at the stables with that terror of a horse of his. And despite the runaround and the vaguely exhausting fact that Stefan’s social battery never seemed to wear itself out ever, it wasn’t… it wasn’t that bad, actually. Sometimes people would wave him down to talk, and he always introduced you and left the proverbial door open for you to join the conversation, but never asked you to participate, which was nice. You’d taken to just sort of slouching against his side in a food coma like a lizard on a rock as he answered whatever mundane questions all the other students asked of him. But otherwise, it was just the pair of you bopping around all over the campus.

Helios saw his master and whinnied merrily, and Stefan made an odd sort of chuffing noise in return that had you laughing into your palm.

“What?” He complained good-naturedly. “You’ve never barked at a dog before? It’s the same thing!”

“Of course it is,” you droned, lips twitching up at the corners.

The next destination was someplace on the coast that he was insisting was the absolute best place in the world to sit and think. Which if you wanted to do research, naturally you needed to get your head together about where to start, right? The only problem was that it was a solid hour hike away, but Stefan assured you that on horseback it was a much shorter journey.

You leaned forward on your tiptoes to get a look down the sprawling corridor of stalls, each larger and grander than the last. And each of their occupants following that exact same trend. There even looked like there was a horse with wings, which was—ah. Not helping the intimidation factor, to say the least.

“You can ride with me,” he offered. “If you’re uncomfortable, I mean. Sometimes it helps to feel like there’s someone more adept at the reins.”

You blinked, a bit taken aback that he’d picked up on your discomfort so easily. But then then you focused on the rest of that offer and you and the horse shared a Look. And wasn’t that a trippy thing to notice. You immediately forced yourself not to think about it.

“I don’t know if that’s fair to Helios,” you pointed out.

“Nonsense!” Stefan waved you off, and Helios pinned his ears indignantly. “He’s an Andalusian. They’re war horses, you know? Built to be as sturdy and strong as any horse can be.” He said the last part with a sickly-sweet uptick to his voice, and leaned up against the beast’s flank like they were sharing an inside joke. “They say Prince Phillip’s legendary steed was an Andalusian, and they rode into battle against a dragon together.”

Helios’s grey muzzle twitched prissily and eventually the horse lowered his great head to thump against Stefan’s side with a gusty ‘harumph’ that had the man stumbling forward with a pleasant laugh.

“There you are, you big baby. I knew you had it in you.”

After giving the horse a firm pat pat on his rump, Stefan turned and offered you a hand.

“It’s easier if I help you up first,” he explained.

“Isn’t there like… a ladder, or something?” You tried, and Stefan grinned sneakily before ducking behind you and hauling you up on Helios’s back all in one go. You absolutely, positively, did not squeak, or anything else ridiculous like that. It was a—a squawk! The most indignant and put upon of noises!

Stefan laughed and waved off whatever terrible sounds you were making with a bemused ‘Sorry! Sorry!’ that was the absolute least apologetic thing you’d ever heard. And then he was swinging himself up near effortlessly into the saddle behind you and looping an arm around your waist.

“Sometimes it’s better to just get it over with,” he explained in your ear, like your brain hadn’t just absolutely Blue Screened at the new weight along your hips. “Like ripping off a bandaid. I know it can all be sort of intimidating for people who aren’t used to being around horses.”

When you didn’t respond, because you were still trying to sort cognizant thoughts of the mess of ‘!!!’ that was hard at work blotting out the rest of your brain, you felt him start to shift a bit behind you. His hands flexed a bit tighter, as if the idea of you not being secure enough in the saddle was in anyway the problem here. After another moment of your continued silence, Stefan leaned forward carefully to hook his chin over your shoulder and spoke in that same carefully polite way he had when he’d worried he’d insulted you all those hours ago in the forest.

“If you’re still uncomfortable I can get you down if you want,” he offered, voice dipping low in something that sounded like hesitance. “I know I—I mean, you don’t have to go riding with me, if you don’t want to. I just thought it’d be…” He cleared his throat, and you must have been going delirious because out of the corner of your eyes you swore you could see the tips of his ears turning pink. “I can… I can just take you to the library now, if you want,” he said. “I know I’ve already been pretty selfish with your time today.”

Helios shifted to stamp his feet and you twisted your fingers nervously into his mane. You really didn’t feel entirely great about being so high, on something so wild and big. And honestly, you had wasted a lot of time sightseeing with your impromptu tour guide. If you were being in anyway rational, you should demand Stefan dismount and take you to the library like he promised. But all the same… Today had been—all of it had been…

“Just don’t let me fall,” you huffed, fighting the urge to duck your chin down into your collar to hide the rising heat in your cheeks.

“Of course not!” Stefan beamed, straightening himself back up so suddenly that he nearly tipped the both of you from the saddle. You sent him a glare over your shoulder and he laughed, loud and boisterous. “Sorry, sorry. From here out starts the ‘of course not.’ That was just a test run.”

“Whatever,” you sighed, letting him maneuver your hands to better hold the reins alongside his.

Naturally, by the time you got halfway to the beach, Stefan remembered that the library closed early on Mondays, and that you’d well and truly missed your opportunity as you’d been off gallivanting with him and his ridiculousness all day.

But you know what? It was fine. You’d just come back tomorrow. And maybe the next day too.

.

.

[dystopyx-blog]

yandere x reader one-shot commissions

aka pls give me money to write yandere

hey so I'll write you a yandere thingie for some money. Could be Fandom related, or could be non Fandom related. Fandoms I write the most for are My Hero Academia, Twisted Wonderland, and Creepypasta.

HOW TO BUY FROM ME

Message me with your request.

While I work on your commission, I will likely send you follow up questions to make sure you get the possible result!

You do not pay me until I am finished

Upon completion, I will send you a blurred screenshot of the finished commission to prove I did and that it's a good length, and a sample from the commission.

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NOTE: if you aren't upfront in the beginning about what you want, I will just write what I feel is right. So if you have something specific in mind BE SPECIFIC.

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AGES:

I will NOT write romance for characters under 16.

I will NOT write suggestive content for characters under 18.

I will NOT write romance for canon characters under the age of 14, even if they are aged up.

I WILL write PLATONIC adult yanderes with child reader

I WILL write age gaps, so long as both characters are adults upon meeting.

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I don't write smut. Not cuz im against it but because I'm bad at it.

However, I will write SUGGESTIVE oneshots, if specified.

When requesting, please specify level of steaminess.

If you do not specify, I will default to no steam.

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Incest

I WILL write platonic familial yanderes, but I WILL NOT write for incest yanderes.

OTHER:

These are yandere oneshots! I will write fucked up shit!!!

However, if you request something I'm uncomfortable with, I have the right to decline (and change my requesting rules accordingly)

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Ramblings $5

Just Rambling on about yanderes based on your request

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OTHER

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feel free to ask in the comments for clarifications!!!

[twstedstoryshop]

I am once again asking for some help in getting commissions underway cuz your local Shopkeep running low on personal funds,.,.. If you're interested in artwork or writing from me, please DM me asap! Reblogs more than anything would be most appreciated if you cannot comm me.

[frenchfrywrites]

A Desperate Study Session

MINORS DNI

Warnings: dom gn reader, sub trans Lilia Vanrouge, desperation, holding, piss!

Terms used for Lilia: cunt

Thank you so much to the lovely person who commissioned this 🥰 I loved writing about this silly old man <3

Cramming for exam season brings out the worst in people sometimes. 

When Lilia squirms in his seat for the fifteenth time, causing you to get distracted again, you snap.

“Can’t you sit still?” you hiss quietly. The two of you are studying in the library, and though you’re in a secluded area it feels wrong to do anything other than whisper. Anyways, you know Lilia can sit still, which is what is ticking you off so much. He must be doing it on purpose, for your attention.

“I have to piss,” Lilia whispers back bluntly. Okay, you'll admit when you're wrong, evidently he's not doing it for attention. You nearly roll your eyes as the obvious reply you come up with is to tell him to just get up and go, but another idea crosses your mind.

“Hold it until we’re done,” you say definitively. You both know it’s a big ask, you’ve got at least another five or six hours before you’ve covered all the material that Crewel gave the class, so you’re prepared for him to safeword out. 

Surprisingly you receive no push back from Lilia. He flushes, shifts around in his seat, and gives you a wicked little smile as he nods before returning to his work.

With a grin, you follow his lead and go back to studying as well.

You end up studying him more than you do the material for finals. Every time he shifts in his seat, every time he squirms a bit, when his breathing starts to come out heavier, when he brings a hand down to cup his cunt, you notice it all. You wonder if he’ll make it until you tell him he has permission, or if at any moment now he’ll jump out of his seat and rush to the bathroom. 

He doesn’t bolt, but after about four hours he whispers “I really have to piss now," in an undoubtedly strained and desperate voice. You look him over, his cheeks are flushed bright, he’s biting his lip- his fangs sticking out cutely- and his brows are furrowed. 

“Hold it for another hour baby,” Lilia whimpers at your orders, his fists curling tightly. 

“Darling, I can’t,” he urges, his voice raising a bit. You click your tongue, “a little leaked out,” he confesses. It takes every bit of your willpower to not get aroused at that, because not only are you in a public space, you’re also supposed to be studying.

“You’re going to hold it,” you reassure him, “you’ll be good for me won’t you Lilia?” he takes a second to think about how he wants to answer that question before inevitably nodding. “Just a couple more chapters until we’re done okay,” you remind him, putting your hand on his upper thigh. A shiver goes down Lilia’s back, and you’re stunned by how you can both see and feel it. 

You squeeze his flesh gently before bringing your hand back, so the both of you can continue working. Lilia can barely keep himself together by the time you close your book. He shoots out of his seat, his legs pressed together tightly.

“Wait,” you stop him before he can rush off and he lets out an utterly pained sound, moving to cross his legs together, a hand slipping between them so he can keep his piss from escaping. You gather your materials, and put things away before gathering up both of your book bags. 

You reach down to take Lilia’s- sweaty, hot- hand in yours, removing it from where it’d been between his legs. 

“Alright, let's go to the bathroom,” you whisper. Lilia finds some difficulty with walking normally, squeezing on your hand like it’s a stress toy as the two of you head to the bathroom. 

It’s your lucky day, because no one is in the library bathroom. Lilia pulls you into a stall with him, fumbling his pants and underwear down before plopping down on the toilet. He looks up at you with pleading eyes, 

“Go ahead Lilia,” you finally give him permission. Delighted, you watch relief flood through his body as he finally allows himself to go pee. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers softly, reaching out to cling to you. You take his hand in yours, feeling how his grip tightens and loosens like a pseudo heartbeat.

“There we go,” you coo, ready to heap on the praise, “did such a good job for me Lilia, such a good boy for me,” he lets out a soft moan at that.

He’s panting by the time he’s done, closing his eyes and leaning closer to you. 

“Ah, hurts” he whimpers, bringing the hand that’s not holding yours down to rub at his bladder, trying to alleviate the pain that comes from holding. "I'm not sure how much longer my old body would have been able to hold," he tells you, and though he sounds playful you still cringe, feeling as though you’re the cause of it,

“Sorry,” you lean down to kiss the top of his head. Lilia laughs weakly,

“Kehehe, it would be kind of funny if I got a UTI from this, wouldn’t it?” he looks up at you with that look in his eyes that tells you, one that he’s absolutely fucking with you, and two that he’s not in so much pain that you should be concerned. 

You bonk his head lightly with your hand,

“It would be hilarious,” you deadpan. Lilia giggles, grabbing some toilet paper to wipe himself down. When he stands to pull up his panties and underwear his legs are shaky. You support him, helping him up and out of the stall.

Lilia hums to himself as he washes his hands,

"Oh," he makes eye contact with you through the mirror, "I most certainly did not study by the way." You huff out at laugh,

“Yeah, neither did I,” you admit. Lilia comes up to you as soon as his hands are dry and clean, taking his book bag from you. 

“I suppose we’ll just have to have another study session,” he winks. You take his hand in yours, 

“I guess so.”

What you both really mean, but neglect to say, is that you’ll watch him hold his piss again soon. Though next time you’ll make sure to let him go earlier, because you’d really hate to give him a UTI.

[timeuserfound]

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