#Keith loves his boyfriend

[willowtreebee]

Keith: “For some reason Lance has been way more… clumsy than usual?”

Pidge: “He’s doing it on purpose.”

Keith: “…”

Keith: “Oh, I see”

This is the 4th time he’s “caught” Lance this week.

Lance just wants the attention he deserves :’(

Keith: “He could just ask-”

Ref:

I’m so tired, I need to stop drawing so late into the night…

[mushed-kid]

skincare victim

[rottenseaweed]

for @klance-daydreams 's dtiys! :D

this was pretty fast and the hands and feet are a little bit weird but overall I like how this turned out! I missed drawing something this big that isn't a floating head for once, so thank you for the dtiys :)

[ethereance]

Kallurance au of my alfusion au here wherein alteans have the ability to fuse with others. My brain went ‘what if the Allura/Lance fusion got a crush on Keith’ and rolled with it. Apparently I’m writing an au of my au first. Super specific.

Ⓜⓐⓖⓝⓔⓣⓘⓢⓜ

When Allura and Lance had fused all those phoebs ago, they hadn’t imagined being able to let the other go, not after coming so close to being separated forever, death so close they can still feel breath on their neck, a cold prickle of fear.

And so, they don’t let the other go.

The longer Lallura spends in a fusion, the more independence they gain, able to make their own decisions and try new experiences, becoming more than just their components, Allura and Lance every bit apart of them in the way that foundations are. They chose a new fusion name to go by, a self-given nickname that sticks too well. Lallura turns to Lure.

It suits the face in the mirror, they think. The face that winks back agrees.

Between Lure and Coran, they set to rebuild Altea as it had once been. No, better.

Their new Altea.

It’s in this time that they spend a considerable amount of time running into Keith. He’s trying to turn the blades into a humanitarian effort, as well as trying to deal with the civil unrest amongst the galra. But he stops by New Altea often, helping where he can.

Lure finds themselves looking forward to these visits, fond of his company. Perhaps it should surprise them more than it does, but he has become someone they trust with their life, all of them, wholly and completely. Where there had once been distrust, jealousy, so many emotions that had thrown them at opposite ends of a divide, Keith finally, finally has become someone they can rely on. The kind of person Red and Black had once seen the potential for him to be.

When he leaves, Lure trusts that he will always come back.

Then that feeling grows into something else.

They know what love feels like. They’ve been here before. Still are there, their very self composed of the feeling. They are love, and they are the fear to lose that to death. This fusion is their comfort, their promise, to follow each other across the universe and live long enough to do it.

But here they are. The pull of red and blue.

Feeling it again as Lure. Or something adjacent to, but they know it’s strong and makes their heart quicken with every beat.

They wonder what Lance and Allura would say if they could see them. They’re happy like that, as them. And yet, Lure is yearning.

“Stay safe out there,” they say every time Keith leaves.

And he’ll smile at them something soft, and say, even though staying safe has never been something in his blood, “I’ll try.”

But this time, this time it changes.

“Stay,” they say simply, foregoing the rest. Why oh why they let the mice talk them into this, they do not know. “Please, just a tick. Let me… there’s something you should know.”

Maybe the galra are more cat than just in appearance, because that confused head tilt Keith gives them strikes them as incredibly cat like. And trust them, Lance has adopted enough of those to know what they’re talking about. “… Lure?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I also can. It makes too much sense. You have done so much for me, become so much to me, and I—“ Their eyes meet, his like deep space, and theirs a candy floss sky. They falter. “You’re really activating my particle barrier right now.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

(Of all the lines, why?

What’s so memorable about this one?)

“Err,” says Keith after an uncomfortably long stretch of silence. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh quiznacking crow, yes. I’m fine.” They take a deep, calming breath and try again. “I like you, Keith. You’re the future, but I also want you to be my future. I thought I knew where the future would take me, but I’ve been surprised yet again and it’s by you and your hideous mullet.” A pause. “Well, maybe it’s not quite so hideous.”

“Lure… what?” says Keith, strained, unsure. His eyes dart over their face. “You’re Lance and Allura. Why would either of them want…?”

“Because I do. And I’m them.” They take a step towards him. “And I’m me. And I don’t know how you managed it, not when half of me loves to bicker with you. But that’s just it. There’s so many things I love doing with you that all of me just really, really likes you Keith. We make a really good team. You, me… and me.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I only wanted to let you know. But— please don’t let this push you further away. I’m sorry.”

“No, I—” He frowns. “I just thought you were happy.”

“I am. But you can never be too happy,” they say, light, playful. “If you’re willing, I’d like to let you into my relationship.”

Their stomach swoops, a sickly feeling, holding out on a hope they have no idea will come.

Keith’s feelings are a mystery. The way he sometimes looks at him has them wondering, but ultimately, they do not know.

Not for sure.

“Does Lance—” starts Keith, his voice catching. There’s a shine to his eyes, moonlight hung there. “Are these feelings his too?”

“Yes,” they say, something singing in their chest. “They belong to all of me. Lance included.”

Lure reaches out to his face, cupping it with their hand. Keith stills, then relaxes, and the look he gives them, oh ancient stars of cheese above, it’s breathtaking.

“Why?” they say, coy. “Don’t tell me you liked me before you. Can’t I at least beat you at something?”

“Lance, no. Allura, maybe,” says Keith with a smile. “But being fused with the princess is cheating.”

“Is this really cheating?” Lure says, taking their chance, and closing the distance between them. Keith, always having their back, now has their lips too, his warm like the sun that has long since set, dusk now glittering behind them.

Keith lets out this breathy sort of laugh, then deepens it, teeth clicking. It’s not perfect, it needs practice, but they can do that.

And Lure would very much like to do this more.

“So?” says Lure against his lips. They pull away. “Is that a yes?’

“Mhm,” Keith hums somewhat distractedly. “That’s cheating.”

“No. Before, when I asked you if you wanted to join our relationship.”

“Someone’s got a case of Lance brain. I just kissed you back.”

“Hmph. Well, smart people can’t assume.”

“Yeah, okay,” says Keith, rolling eyes ripe with amusement. “I want to give us a try. I’ve liked Lance for some time now, and honestly thought I was jealous of Allura, but now, I don’t know. Allura means a lot to me, she’s—you’re amazing. And you, you mean a lot to me, so… can we see where this takes us?”

This.

This is what Lure was missing.

Their third and final member to chase across the stars.

“Yes, let’s,” Lure says.

It’s a journey worth the risks.

[velvetseahorse]

Astrology observations and notes

- Mula natives can be intense in intimate relationships. Claire Nakti mentions them being energy vampires, a trait that I believe all Ketu nakshatras share. However, Mula individuals take this to an extreme—they deeply desire to consume their romantic partners or loved ones, often expressing love and affection in ways that can be violent or disturbing. For example, Mula ☽ native Amy Winehouse once carved “I love Blake” (referring to her then-boyfriend Blake Fielder-Civil) onto her stomach using a shard of glass during a photoshoot. Mula ☉ native Keith Richards snorted his own father’s ashes. He explained, “The truth of the matter is that after having Dad’s ashes in a black box for six years—because I really couldn’t bring myself to scatter him to the winds(…)when I took the lid off the box, a fine spray of his ashes blew out onto the table. I couldn’t just brush him off, so I wiped my finger over it and snorted the residue.”

- All three Pisces nakshatras (Purva Bhadrapada, Uttara Bhadrapada, and Revati) are late bloomers. This may be because Pisces is the last sign of the zodiac and is connected to the 12th house, which rules moksha and the dissolution of individual existence into the eternal flow of life. The ultimate purpose of the 12th house is spiritual liberation and freedom from samsara. Sidereal Pisces natives are often tested and placed in situations where they must lose aspects of themselves to gain wisdom and grow, which can delay the usual stages of development in their lives. Pisces is naturally detached from material matters and easily in tune with its divine essence. Similar to Ketu, Pisces is often associated with spirituality and higher wisdom. In fact, many Vedic texts suggest that Ketu co-rules Pisces, but I’ll explore that topic in another blog post. The 12th house represents confinement, the subconscious, loss, endings, isolation, delusion, unseen realms, and private emotions. It is a deeply spiritual and sensitive house where suffering is often hidden, but it also holds profound wisdom when approached with the right mindset. Pisces natives are highly sensitive, and when faced with harsh realities, they often cope by withdrawing from the world. They prefer to live in a reality of their own making—a gift they naturally possess. However, they cannot escape responsibility entirely, as life’s traumas frequently force them to reflect and grow. Pisces natives are natural observers rather than active participants, and you won’t often find them following societal trends. They tend to stay alone, forging their own unique path. As escapists at heart, Pisces struggles to make sense of things logically, often relying on emotions and intuition instead. This is why Mercury debilitates in Pisces. For Pisces, life feels like a ripple in water—vast, reflective, and abyssal like the ocean. Because of their tendency toward isolation, the mundanity of life can be deeply depressing for them. They may overthink, fall into maladaptive daydreaming, or become so lost in their imagination that they miss out on their own present lives and development. Once Pisces natives stop escaping and begin addressing their emotions in a healthy way—through spiritual practices or creative expression—they can unlock their full potential. Pisces is highly creative, with Venus exalting in this sign, emphasizing their natural gifts in art, music, and storytelling. Most Pisces natives feel a calling for something greater than an average life and often possess the talent to fulfill that calling. However, their main challenge lies in taking consistent steps toward their goals and overcoming their finicky, scattered tendencies.

- Ashwini natives are prone to addiction, self-medicating habits, and mental health challenges. Ashwini is a Ketu-ruled nakshatra, and Ketu, being the opposite of Rahu (the head), represents the headless body—detached from material desires and driven by the pursuit of spiritual liberation. This detachment creates disillusionment with the material world, leaving Ketu natives in their most raw, primal state, seeking the deeper truths and secrets of existence. Ketu’s influence is often compared to Mars because both planets help break through limitations, but their motivations differ. Mars is driven by ambition and devotion, while Ketu is fueled by detachment from material pursuits. This immense detachment makes Ashwini natives especially susceptible to addiction, often as a way to numb themselves or escape from overactive mental activity. Aries, the sign ruled by Ashwini, governs the head, and Ashwini as the first nakshatra carries the primal spark of energy and mental impulses. This nakshatra relates to mental activity, making its natives highly energetic but also restless and prone to overthinking. Their constant mental stimulation can lead to exhaustion, agitation, and self-destructive behaviors if not managed well. Ashwini natives have a natural intelligence and a desire to attain things quickly. However, this need for constant intellectual or physical stimulation can result in impulsive and reckless behavior when they are not moving or engaged in something meaningful. Ashwini is a restless nakshatra, and when placed in social environments requiring conformity, natives may struggle to fit in, often resorting to sarcasm and bluntness. Their detachment from societal norms, combined with their cosmic youthfulness and childlike nature (symbolized by their deities, the young twin horses), can make them appear rude or immature. Although Ashwini natives may try to behave in a “normal” or formal manner, this often leads to frustration due to their need for freedom and stimulation. Their childlike energy and cosmic vitality are best channeled into pursuits that allow them to move, grow, and explore.

- Venus in the 12th house is a beautiful but challenging placement. Natives with this position view romance, spirituality, or even life through rose-colored glasses. While this gives them a dreamy and idealistic perspective, it can also lead to disconnection from reality, resulting in disappointment and, often, depression. Venus is desires, romance, pleasure, and art. When placed in the deeply private and spiritual 12th house, these aspects become tied to one’s emotional and spiritual well-being. People with Venus in the 12th tend to keep their relationships very private, often out of fear of outside interference. The 12th house also rules hidden enemies, which can make these natives cautious about exposing their love life. They are unconditional lovers, often idealizing their partners to the extent that they may overlook toxic or unbalanced dynamics. It’s common for Venus in the 12th natives to love more intensely than their partners, which can lead to one-sided or non-secure relationships, such as secret affairs. These natives are often seduced by the idea of love in their minds, finding it difficult to accept the reality of their situation. This disconnection can lead to insecurity, particularly regarding their self-image. Physically, those with Venus in the 12th house are quite beautiful, but they may struggle to see or embrace their own beauty, feeling unworthy of love. Despite these challenges, Venus in the 12th house produces some of the most empathetic, self-sacrificial, and artistically gifted individuals. Venus is exalted in Pisces, the ruler of the 12th house, which enhances their creative potential. The 12th house governs hidden things, so natives may have hidden artistic talents that they should explore. They can create art that has a profound emotional and spiritual impact, capable of healing others and excel in surrealist forms of expression, romantic poetry, music, and visual mediums that convey unexplainable yet resonating emotions.

- Ashlesha and Uttara Bhadrapada bring to mind the effects of anesthesia. Ashlesha represents the beginning stages of anesthesia, with its Shakti—the power to inflict poison—a clinging and restrictive energy that feels paralyzing. This is akin to how anesthesia is injected into the nervous system, suppressing consciousness and inducing a detached, deep sleep-like state. Uttara Bhadrapada represents the culmination of this process, embodying the state of deep sleep. Its deity, Ahirbudhnya—the serpent of the depths—reflects the energy of stillness and dissociation of what’s above (reality/conciousness) , as well as the 12th house’s connection to sleep and the unconscious. Uttara Bhadrapada signifies the transcendental detachment from the physical body, much like the dissociative, dream-like state brought on by anesthesia. Ahirbudhnya’s symbolism as the serpent of the deep ocean mirrors the sensation of being submerged or taken into a controlled, deep state under anesthesia. Ashlesha’s clinging, paralyzing venom parallels Uttara Bhadrapada’s surrender and stillness, with both evoking states where the body is subdued or transcended. Ashlesha operates through the subconscious and instinctual nervous responses, while Uttara Bhadrapada focuses on spiritual transcendence. Anesthesia acts as a bridge between these realms, allowing the body to rest while bypassing conscious awareness.

- Pushya and Krittika natives can have features characterized by full lips, almond-shaped or wide-set eyes, which can also be rounded and downturned , or upturned and almond shaped typically deep-set. They tend to have very soft cheeks and overall gentle facial features, even among Krittika natives. Those born under the sheep yoni have soft, curly, or full hair. These natives dislike being alone and will often join others they can’t emotionally or socially relate to simply to avoid solitude. Krittika is in the ♉︎ and ♈︎ rashi, while Pushya is in ♋︎. Interestingly, Taurus exalts the Moon, and Krittika is the nakshatra where the Moon is exalted. Despite their planetary differences, both share similarities, including being associated with the goat/sheep yoni consort. Both Krittika and Pushya are nurturing by nature; however, Pushya leans toward giving, while Krittika tends to receive. There is a pure aura about them, as they are spiritually pure at their core and often sacrificial. For example, Joan of Arc, a Pushya ↑, led French armies based on divine visions she claimed to have, ultimately leading to her martyrdom by being burned at the stake—an example of these nakshatras embodying the archetype of sacrificial lambs. Krittika’s symbol is a blade, and the name itself means “one who cuts.” Its deity, Agni, the fire god, represents purification through fire, especially of the soul. Krittika women, in particular, can face disdain from both men and women due to their sovereign and independent nature. They are often misunderstood and may fall victim to others attempting to humble or overpower them.

Ebonee Davis - Pushya ↑ Halle Berry - Pushya ☽ Krittika ♈︎ ↑

Spike Fearn - Krittika ♈︎ ☽ Mick Jagger - Pushya ☉ krittika ♉︎ ☽

-Jyeshtha natives are known for being great writers, excelling in songwriting, literature, poetry, and rap. There are many notable poets, rappers, and songwriters with Jyeshtha placements, including Ottessa Moshfegh, Joan Didion, Bob Dylan, Emily Dickinson, Jim Morrison, Clarice Lispector, and Sonny Hall. Rappers like Nicki Minaj and JT, as well as singer-songwriters such as Sinead O’Connor and Tom Waits, also carry strong Jyeshtha energy. Jyeshtha is ruled by Mercury, which governs communication and expression through use of speech and writing. It also rules numbers and words and how we use them to problem-solve and convey ideas. Known as the “elder,” Jyeshtha’s deity is Indra, and Jyeshtha natives tend to excel because of their high standards, ambition and intuitive expertise in their craft. Relying in the ♏︎ rasi—a mysterious, transformative, intense, and passionate sign co-ruled by Mars and Ketu—Jyeshtha natives delve into themes of impersonal tragedy, exploring the darker aspects of the human psyche. Their writing is distinguished by their technique, style, and wordplay. Mars appears prominently in charts of many rappers through both signs (Aries and Scorpio) and nakshatras (Mrigashira, Chitra, and Dhanishta).

- Chitra nakshatra is quite similar to the Venus nakshatras in terms of behavior in my opinion. Chitra is all about refinement, creativity, beauty, and enjoying things that appeal to the senses. Although ruled by Mars, its connection to Venus (♎︎) and Mercury (♍︎) gives it a visually oriented and perfectionist nature, much like the Venus nakshatras, which are immensely creative. Both Chitra and Venus nakshatras share a tendency to push boundaries, sometimes indulging in taboo subjects. Venus nakshatras are known for their exclusivity, often socializing and collaborating only with other Venus nakshatra natives. Similarly, Chitra exhibits a form of discrimination by networking and associating only with those they deem worthy—often based on aesthetics or social status. Chitra natives are also highly judgmental, frequently offering unsolicited critiques because they cannot tolerate anything they perceive as imperfect. This mirrors the Venusian tendency to prioritize beauty and refinement above all else Especially because Venus (Shukra), the guru of demons and Chitra is demonic Rakshasa gana. there are, of course, key differences between Chitra and the Venus nakshatras.

- Saturn in the 4th house: The 4th house is one of the most private houses in astrology, ruled by Cancer, which is governed by the Moon (representing emotions). This house symbolizes our early home environment, upbringing, and especially our relationship with our mother. The mother is our first home (the womb) and nurtures us emotionally. How our parents teach us to regulate emotions is crucial for our emotional well-being. However, with Saturn in the 4th house—a restrictive and malefic planet—its energy clashes with Cancer’s nurturing qualities, as Saturn is in its detriment in this sign. Saturn represents coldness, self-limitation, underdogs/outcasts, effort, and karma. Natives with Saturn in the 4th house experience a difficult childhood, being forced to mature quickly and take on heavy responsibilities at a young age. They may feel disconnected from peers, unable to engage in carefree, childish behavior due to these responsibilities. This placement often indicates a mother who is emotionally distant or invalidating. These natives might have been told to “be strong” instead of expressing their emotions. In some cases, they may have served as their mother’s emotional crutch, catering to her emotional needs instead of receiving the nurturing they needed. Traumatic family events may linger, leaving them feeling tied to their family out of a sense of duty. For Saturn in the 4th house natives to thrive, they need to move away from their homeland or create physical distance from their family. Despite the hardships, individuals with this placement tend to develop deep empathy, a strong sense of responsibility, and profound wisdom. However, they are prone to anxiety and mood disorders, making it crucial for them to seek therapy, learn emotional regulation, and to give themselves a break and allow themselves love by building a supportive community that provides comfort and belonging.

- Jupiter in the 5th House: The 5th house is an important and auspicious house in astrology, representing past karmas and influencing one’s life journey. Creation is a central theme of the 5th house, whether through children, art, intellect, or ideas. With Jupiter placed here, this becomes a highly favorable position. Jupiter, known as Guru, is an expansive planet that represents luck, joy, knowledge and abundance. It thrives on self-improvement through activities like reading, studying, meditation, and creative pursuits such as music or painting. Natives with Jupiter in the 5th house feel an innate optimism about education, creativity, and spirituality. They approach learning and creating with a sense of childlike curiosity and openness, allowing them to absorb knowledge and express their creativity with purity and innocence. This mindset helps them flourish in these areas. Because the 5th house also rules children, individuals with this placement have a growth-oriented relationships with children. They may naturally take on roles as teachers, mentors, or guides, and children are likely to be drawn to them easily. Their own children will be blessed as well. However, this positive energy is best expressed when the 5th house is free from malefic influences or harmful conjunctions to Jupiter. Without such hindrances, Jupiter’s energy shines brightly, encouraging intellectual and spiritual growth. It’s important for those with Jupiter in the 5th to remain mindful of their potential naivety. While optimism and generosity are key strengths, they must remember that actions still carry consequences. Overindulgence or excessive reliance on luck can negatively affect their karmic balance. To truly thrive, these natives should strive to give as much as they receive, ensuring that their abundance benefits not just themselves but others as well.

*All these notes are just based off my own personal observations and readings. It may not resonate everyone with these placements

[lovebugism]

hi bug! Can I request you a ditzy or shy!reader where some girl flirts with Steve in front of her maybe at Family Video? Little angsty because she feels insicure of herself? Thank you🩷

ty for requesting!! — steve doesn't realize he's being flirted with because he's so in love with you (ditzy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, 1.6k)

You color in a scribbled heart with enough vigor to break the pink crayon in your hand.

Steve always hangs your drawings in his locker in the Family Video break room, so you tend to take your art pretty seriously. ‘Cause there’s absolutely nothing humorous about the two stick figures holding hands — each of them vaguely resembling the both of you — that you’re passionately scribbling behind the front counter.

He’d watch you work your magic on a piece of lined scrap paper if he could. He’s too busy tending to a regular now. Mia, he thinks, or maybe Maia. She rents movies every week, but according to the system, she doesn’t watch a single one of them. 

“Well, what do you recommend?” she questions with a smirk on her painted lips, leaning her elbows on the counter until her chest juts out.

Steve leans slowly backward and tries not to cough at the overwhelming scent of her fruity perfume. “Uh… I don’t know,” he answers with an unenthusiastic shrug. “I usually just watch whatever.”

The girl squints her dolled-up eyes. “You don’t have a favorite movie?” 

Steve ponders the question for a moment. ‘Cause he doesn’t have one, really. All his favorite films are your favorites because he spends the majority of movie nights watching you instead.

So, at a loss of how to answer, he tells her your first choice. “The Star Wars movies are pretty alright.”

“Do you have them here?” she wonders.

Steve nods and points her in the other direction. “Yeah. In the Sci-Fi section.”

“Can you show me?” the girl questions with a hopeful glint in her pale eyes. Everything about her sparkles with mischief, like a predator hunting for prey. Stealthy, like a ninja, Steve would’ve called the approach a couple years ago. Long before he found you.

He’s more into forthright proclamations of love these days — bubblegum pink lipstick stains pressed to his cheek and handmade pictures drawn in crayon.

But, for the sake of Keith totally reaming him for not helping a customer, Steve nods and rounds the front counter. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Follow me,” he urges halfheartedly, sparing you a forlorn glance as he goes. You’re much too distracted to see it, though.

You’re too distracted to notice most things, really.

That’s why Robin’s angrier than you are about the whole thing. She exhales a big huff and stands across from you, peering over the tower of tapes there. “God, he’s so oblivious,” she groans.

Your hand freezes as you color in Steve’s vest. You glance up at her with wide eyes, heart sinking at the annoyed look on her freckled features. “Huh?”

“Steve. That girl’s been drooling over him for five minutes, and he hasn’t even realized.”

Your brows pinch. “What girl?”

“The one that’s hanging all over him,” Robin answers, nodding her head to the other side of the store. The girl in question lingers at Steve’s side, a little too close to be casual. She hangs on every word he says — which certainly can’t be a whole lot, considering he knows next to nothing about that Star Wars franchise.

“I thought she was just being nice,” you shrug.

“She was flirting with your boyfriend,” Robin corrects in a monotone. “It was disgusting. I’m pretty sure her flirt got all over my pants.”

You look back at the two across the room. Steve tenses when the pretty redhead presses her chest against his arm. For the sake of not making things totally awkward, he forces himself not to shrink away. What had seemed virtually innocuous to you now makes your stomach ache. 

“She’s so pretty…” you observe quietly to yourself. 

Robin only scoffs. “Yeah. If you’re into girls like that.”

You don’t know exactly what she means, but it makes you lean slightly forward in interest anyway. “Do you think… Do you think Steve’s into girls like that?”

“No,” Robin answers, features twisted like it’s obvious. “He’s into girls like you.”

For the first time ever, you find that slightly hard to believe. Why would Steve ever pick you over someone like her? The way she smiles is pretty. The way she laughs is pretty. Even the way she talks is pretty.

And what do you have? A couple of stupid crayon portraits?

A strange feeling sears your chest when Steve and the pretty girl walk back to the counter. He must’ve told her a joke or something ‘cause she tips back her head to laugh loudly in response. Jealous tears sting your eyes accordingly. You take your art and your box of dull crayons and scurry off to the break room.

“I can help you check out!” Robin offers, suddenly very chipper. 

The redhead’s face twists. “Oh. I thought that—”

“Steve’s needed in the breakroom, actually,” Robin tells her when the stranger’s pleading eyes flit to the boy beside her. “I can handle it from here.”

“Wait— What’s in the breakroom?” he wonders obliviously.

“Your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve blinks once. The sudden lack of your presence makes his chest ache. He stalks off to find you without another word.

The redhead, Mia or Maia or whatever, doesn’t bother to disguise the shock painting her dainty features. “Girlfriend?” she echoes, quiet with disbelief.

Robin nods and takes the tapes from her hands, knowing she’s only renting them ‘cause she thought Steve liked them. The scanner beeps as she rings them up. “Yeah. He’s kinda in love with her, turns out. It’s disgusting.”

The conversation fades the further Steve gets down the hall. He opens the door to the back room with a grating squeak. The rusted hinges screech again in protest when he swings it shut behind him. He finds you slouched over the table, vehemently scribbling with vibrantly colored crayons.

He can’t help but smile at the sight of you. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts in place of a greeting, sliding back a chair to sit across from you.

“Nothin’…” you mutter distantly.

Steve folds his arms over the tabletop and rests his chin on top of them. It bobs with every word. “Why’d you leave me, huh?”

You shrug with a faint I don’t know type of sound.

“Can I see what you’re drawing, at least?” 

He grins and reaches for you without thinking — because you always let him see. Needless to say, when flinch suddenly away from him, it scares him far more than it should. You scramble to cover the paper with your arms like you’re doing something wrong. 

“No,” you answer in a mousy voice.

A chuckle spills from Steve’s mouth. “What? Why? You always show me.”

“It’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid! I love when you draw stuff for me,” the boy insists with a lopsided smile, distantly surprised by your sheepishness. The pretty pink grin slips from his mouth at the crestfallen glint in your eye. He softens without thinking. “What’s wrong? What happened? Did— Did Robin say something?”

“No.” 

“Then what?”

You avert your eyes from his prying ones, feeling half-suffocated beneath his honeyed gaze. You start to color again with an absentminded hand, if only to have something else to look at. “You’re just…” you trail off, shifting uncomfortably in your chair. “You’re too pretty.”

He laughs before he means to. “What?”

“You’re pretty, and I don’t like that other people get to look at you,” you confess quietly, coloring in Steve’s hair with the ‘deep golden’ crayon. “It’s not fair— No one else should think you’re as beautiful as I do. I don’t like that.”

Steve props his chin on his palm and hides his grin behind his fingers. He reaches for your busy hand with his free one to get your attention. “Well, you know what?” he starts when your eyes flit up to his. “You’re the only one I want looking at me. So what everyone else thinks doesn’t really matter.”

“It is when they’re drooling all over you,” you answer with a scrunched nose.

Steve can’t help but scoff out a laugh. Those words have Robin Buckley written all over them. 

“Last I heard, Rob was giving that girl what for, so… you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he tells you, both to soothe the misplaced jealousy and to make you smile. He thinks it only half works. “Can I tell you a secret?”

You perk up at that. Steve grins and leans in close like he’s about to confess something serious. His dark eyes twinkle with mischief. 

“I’m so stupid in love with you that I forget other girls exist sometimes,” he murmurs in true secret-spilling fashion. “And when they’re… drooling all over me? I don’t even see it. ‘Cause all I’m thinking about is how I have my own girl back home. And that I’d much rather have her drooling on me.”

“…Am I the girl?” you press in a tiny voice, just to be sure.

“Yes, baby, I’m talking about you,” Steve chuckles. “You should know that— You’rethe one drooling on my pillow every morning.”

Your nose scrunches sheepishly. “You’ve said that word too many times… It doesn’t sound real anymore.”

“What’s that called again?”

“Semantic satiation,” you answer without missing a beat.

“Well, now I’m gonna tell you I love you ’til you’re semantically satiated,” the boy teases with a knowing squint in his eyes. “‘Cause I love you.”

“Steve.”

“I love you.”

“Stop,” you say, sterner now, though your gaze still glimmers with something soft. Your eyes follow his form when he rises from the table, shifting the short distance to sit in the chair closest to you. “Steve, stop—”

“I love you,” he repeats, anyway, taking you into his arms and smacking a dramatic kiss to your warm cheek. Between each innocuous peck, he mumbles, “I love you— I love you— I love you—”

Steve doesn’t stop kissing you until he hears you giggling again. The pretty sound brightens the dull breakroom. And all he can think about is what a lucky schmuck he is. To get to kiss you and make you laugh forever.

[littlexdeaths]

i called her on the phone and she touched herself - e.m.

ghostface eddie munson x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: voyerism, mutual masturbation, phone sex, eddie’s a perv but we’re into it, alluding to a knife kink, lots of scream references

i ended up taking a look at this fic today and making some little tweaks and i love it so much more now. this is another repost from my old account but i promise new content will be coming soon. enjoy xx.

word count: 1.5k

The phone rings, loud and shrill in your ear.

It sound causes you to flinch in surprise, heart thudding in your chest when you reach for the receiver. The cheesy horror movie playing on your small tv set now forgotten as you pick up the phone.

“Hello?” Your voice sounds a little breathless, a deep chuckle resounding in your ear.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

The voice on the other end was husky, smooth yet confident.

“Who is this?” You feign a bored tone, your thighs squeezing together unintentionally.

You’d never been so attracted to someone’s voice before— and he’d only spoken two words to you. But something about it felt oddly… familiar.

“Were you expecting a call from someone?” The male asks and you shift slightly to glance at your bedside clock. 8:43 PM.

Steve would still be working at the video store, or he was supposed to be. Unless he decided to prank call you during a lull in customers. Which could very well be a possibility.

“Maybe… why do you wanna know?” Your tone is overly flirty as you decide to play along.

The call now much more exciting than the movie playing out on your tv screen.

You’d never take a suggestion from Keith ever again.

“Hm, a pretty girl like you must be waiting on a call from a boyfriend?”

You can’t help but laugh at that notion, serious relationships weren’t your thing. Despite how attractive and persistent Steve was, a relationship is the last thing you wanted to tangle yourself in right now.

But he clearly was still trying too hard.

You breathe out a heavy sigh, “Nope, no boyfriend.”

Despite being a usually observant person, you still weren’t aware of the eyes trained on your half naked figure. The dark cloaked figure watching from the tree that faced your bedroom window.

“Mm, lucky me then.”

You glance back at the screen when the music begins to swell, hinting that one of the teenagers would be killed off at any moment. A loud scream fills the room as the killer takes one of the camp counselor by surprise.

“What’s that sound?” He asks, unable to see the television from his vantage point.

“Oh, just a movie.”

The male hums deeply, the sound causes you to squirm against your bedsheets. Heat pools in your lower belly and you mindlessly let your fingertips dance along the edge of your lace panties.

“What kind of movie?” He probes, his dark eyes now drawn to the silky skin of your thighs.

You begin shifting, lying back fully against your pillows. You rest the receiver between your ear and shoulder as you spread your legs open. Unintentionally giving him the perfect view as you dip your fingers past the flimsy material. The sight causes his cock to stir beneath his dark jeans.

“A scary one,” you reply, despite this being the least scary thing you’ve ever seen.

Eddie grins beneath the white ghostface mask, sheathing his blade before he reaches for the zipper on his pants. He tugs them down to free his hardened cock, pulling his mouth away from the phone to spit into the palm of his hand. The male wrapping it around his thick length whilst your fingers begin to circle over your clit.

While the brunette had come here with the intention to scare you… this turn of events was far more interesting.

“Oh, you like scary movies?”

He grins, enjoying how your voice seems to shake over the line, but not for the reason he initially expected.

“Y-Yes…”

Only pleasure laces your tone.

Eddie inhales deeply, watching as you twirl your fingers around the phone cord with your other hand. The light of the television illuminates your body with an almost ethereal like glow.

“Hmm, tell me… what’s your favorite scary movie, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, now shoving your soaked underwear completely down your thighs. You kick them off the edge of your bed before dipping a finger inside yourself. You chew on your lower lip to hold back a moan you so desperately wanted to let escape, eagerly slipping another digit inside.

This wasn’t the first time you’d touched yourself like this with Steve on the other end of the phone, but this was by far the most exciting.

Little did you know the male on the other end was definitely not Steve Harrington.

Dropping the twisted cord you grip the receiver in your unoccupied hand, eyes fluttering shut when you begin pumping your fingers even deeper inside yourself. Letting your thumb brush over your swollen clit as you curl your fingers up.

“Halloween,” you breathe, a low grunt sounds on the other end of the line as the male strokes his cock in tandem with each thrust of your fingers. The slick sounds reverberate softly through the receiver.

“Is that the one with the guy in the white mask who walks around stalking babysitters?” He asks, despite already knowing the answer himself.

A soft ‘mhm’ leaves you as you revel in his throaty moans.

“I liked that one… it was scary.” His voice drops an octave, Eddie unintentionally slipping into his dungeon master voice.

Keeping the cell phone tucked into his shoulder as he adjusts himself between the tree branches. Increasing the pace of his fist as he continues to watch you pleasure yourself through your window.

The movie playing out on your tv screen is now long forgotten as his deep voice is the only thing you can focus on.

“I like that thing you’re doing with your voice, Steve. It’s sexy.” You whimper, already feeling yourself teetering on the edge of bliss. No longer able to keep up the oblivious act anymore.

Eddie chuckles darkly, sending a shiver up your spine. “Oh sweetheart, this isn’t Steve.”

As much as those words should frighten you, it only seems to increase the tightening in your lower belly. The jealous edge to them causes a high pitched whine to leave your lips, pumping your fingers even faster into your dripping heat. Increasing the pressure on your clit, as the male’s deep moans fill your ears.

“God you little slut, you gonna cum f’me?” He growls, feeling his own orgasm drawing near.

His cock twitches in his rough palm as he observes your lower half lifting up off the mattress. Thighs trembling as your orgasm washes over you, milky white spilling over onto his ringed fingers.

Heavy breathing is all that is passed back and forth between the two of you for a moment, your body falling limp against the mattress.

“Fuck, you look so pretty when you cum, baby…” while it was whispered into the phone, you still heard it.

You recognized the husky voice instantly— the pretty but rugged metalhead who always gave you a discount on your weed.

Eddie Munson.

Your eyes instantly snap open, dropping the phone as you sit up. Letting your fingers slip from your drenched core as you rise to your feet. Padding over to your bedroom window and gazing out into the dark night.

You catch sight of a white ghostface mask in between the branches opposite your window. Your eyes meet as you reach back over for the phone, your juices smearing over the handle as you grab onto it. Amusement dances over your features as you tilt your head at him.

“Do you spy on all the girls you deal to, Munson?” You pause, clearly catching the male off guard, “Or am I a special case?”

Eddie doubles back, stuttering out a reply while he attempts to disguise his voice once more but it was too late— you caught him.

“I promise this isn’t what it seems, sweetheart.”

A small giggle leaves your lips as he fumbles his way down from the tree, removing the mask so he can see properly. His bangs stick to his forehead, pale skin flushed pink under the bright moonlight.

He drops the phone and his knife in his haste, the glint of the blade catches your attention. The way the sharp metal reflects in the light makes your heart race, arousal coursing through your veins. You lick your lips when he picks up the discarded items, his brown eyes meeting yours through the glass.

“I think I know why you came here, Munson…” you hum into the receiver once he returns the phone to his ear, your sultry tone causing his cock to stir in his jeans again.

“Why’s that, sweet thing?” He bites back, his dark eyes not leaving your silhouette.

“Someone wants to play psycho killer… but it looks like you need a helpless victim.”

You lean your forearms on your windowsill, noticing the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows down a moan. His ringed fingers grip tightly onto the handle of the blade, the male now desperately hanging onto your every word.

“And I’m more than happy to oblige.”

Eddie curses, your words going straight to his now throbbing cock. There was no way he was passing you up on this offer.

“Now… tell me Mr. Ghostface, what do you want?” You feign a frightened tone as you pose the question.

His shallow breaths mingle with the static on the line, anticipation bubbling up inside you.

“I wanna know what your insides feel like.” He groans, his words sending heat straight between your legs.

You squirm when you watch him slide the mask down over his face, glancing back up at you with an almost predatory look.

“Come and find out then, freak.”

Click.

[shatterinseconds]

Keith is beautiful. So fucking beautiful.

The twin suns of the planet become the perfect backdrop, outlining him in shimmering gold. A concerning amount of dried blood paints the side of his face, crusted and flaking. His bottom lip is busted, his nose probably broken, his armor just as dented and bruised. Despite it all, maybe even because of it all, he’s stunning. 

Enough for Lance to stop and stare as he picks himself off the ground after a Galra soldier punted him against the rocky cliff face. His teeth still rattle from the impact; his entire body is a scream of agony, but he manages to stand.

Keith flicks the blood off his bayard before it detransitions from its sword state. He steps over the body of the Galra soldier to stand directly in front of Lance. He pats Lance’s cheek, amused by Lance’s obviousness as a twitch of a smirk presses a dimple into the corner of his mouth.

“I didn’t think you hit your head that hard.”

“Shut up.” Lance grins, reaching out to hold Keith close. His free hand, gun still activated by his side, tangles with Keith’s wild hair curling near his jaw. With his helmet lost ages ago, his hair is a wild, sweaty mess, bangs plastered to his forehead. Lance gently brushes a thumb over a newly formed bruise, and Keith’s eyelids flutter at the touch.

They’ve been at war for years. Maybe Lance has gotten too desensitized to things and maybe that’s not a good thing—but that’s something he and his future therapist can discuss whenever—if ever—they return to Earth. But present Lance doesn’t have to worry about why he finds a battle-worn Keith stupidly hot; he accepts it. Because he can. Because they’re dating now. So openly admiring the Red Paladin of Voltron? Fully on the table as suitable options during any time of the day.

“Sue me for thinking my boyfriend’s attractive,” Lance mutters, breathy as if they just kissed but really he’s just tired from the battle, tired from the war. Every day weighs heavily on him but that weight is always easier to bear with two or six.

Keith cups his face with both hands. “I’m glad you survived,” he says instead of ‘I love you.’ 

Because they made some sort of deal with themselves, that since they started dating in the middle of an active war, they promised no ‘I love yous’ to each other, no concrete declarations of long lasting affection, nothing emotionally compromising. In reality, it means the same thing. They both know it does, but they continue to use the placeholder anyways as if the facade makes the situation less personal, less likely to destabilize them if anything were to happen to the other during battle.

Lance leans forward until his forehead rests against Keith’s. “I’m glad you survived too.”

One day he’ll say ‘I love you’ to Keith. One day he’ll say it on the shores of Varadero Beach with his family’s house only a few miles away. One day it will happen. Not if. 

But until then, he wraps his arm around Keith’s waist as they hobble back to the rendezvous spot. He nuzzles his nose into the soft part of Keith’s cheek, ignoring the sweat, dirt, and blood, and smiles as Keith’s hair tickles his nose. Until then, he will whisper those words into Keith’s skin and dream about their future. 

[keiffeine]

HELLOOOO ^^ i just read again ur jealous keith nsfw and i was just wondering if u still wrote for vld!!! need more jealous keith content pls🤲🤲 anyways i love ur writing!!! keep it up!!!<3

with gender-neutral reader.

genre: suggestive towards the cut

author’s note: super duper freaking late on this anon. so, so sorry, but thanks for your request!! it is so hard to get my ass to write and it’s the first time i’ve posted something in so long. (all 5 active keiffeine fans cheering rn.) some hcs are sort of repeats from the first part—just think of it as a revision. ;P a little rushed towards the end!

reposting, plagiarizing, modifying, and translating is not allowed.

part one of jealous keith here!

• keith hates when he has moments of jealousy. he feels like he’s being ridiculous. he trusts you, and he knows that you’ll never leave him, but he can’t help it. the stupid voice in the back of his mind keeps feeding him false ideas and he just can’t seem to quiet it down.

• this mostly occurs during diplomatic events, when aliens are chatting you up, making you laugh and smile. he feels his stomach coil uncomfortably. what are they saying? are they making you swoon with stupid jokes and witty pickup lines? do you think they’re more attractive than he is?

• the thought of walking over, pulling you away with a half-assed excuse is tempting, but he forces himself not to. he doesn’t want to look like some sort of pathetic, possessive boyfriend who couldn’t stand not having his partner’s attention on him.

• he’s very avoidant about it, as he’s not a fan of talking about all the jealousy stuff. if he thinks he’s ridiculous in his own mind, it would be even worse telling someone out loud. at some point, shiro asks him what’s wrong, notices the way keith’s got a tight grip around his cup. to which keith responds—“it’s nothing.”

• at the end of the night, keith’s still noticeably tense even when you return to your shared room. the tension between you is thick and uncomfortable. keith avoids your eyes, jaw clenched as he takes off his paladin armor.

• you follow suit and start stripping to get ready for bed, too, but the silence is absolutely killing you.

• “keith, are you alright?” you ask, turning your head to face him. you’re met with his naked back, muscles flexing with every movement. in any other scenario, the sight would’ve turned you on, but you can’t think of anything else but to resolve this awkwardness between you.

• “yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” keith responds. it’s a little too quick, as if automatic. his voice is stiff and clipped, and it makes you bite your lip nervously.

• you turn away and slowly pull on a shirt. it’s silent again for a good minute until keith suddenly presses up against your back, hands wrapping around your middle. he pulls you closer so your back is pressed right up to his bare chest, the heat of his body melting through the fabric of your shirt.

• you suck in a breath when keith presses his lips to the back of your neck, trailing down slowly, ending at your shoulder. he’s silent, and then: “i love you.” it’s soft, quiet. there’s a hint of nervousness to it that makes you borrow your eyebrows.

• “i love you, too,” you respond, cheeks growing warm while you turn your head just slightly to look at him over your shoulder. “you’re sure you’re okay?”

• “just…” keith bites his bottom lip, choosing his words carefully. “just wanna show you how much i love you.”

• he takes you to the bed, the rest of the night going by in a blur. keith’s on top of you and your lips clash in passionate, messy kisses. eventually, your clothes come off one by one, scattered all over the floor, with your legs hitched onto his hips. “you’re mine, okay? no one else’s.” keith grunts, hips snapping against yours, causing you to gasp. you almost see white for a split-second, voice caught in your throat so you nod instead.

voltron masterlist

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[dualityvn]

"Keith is generally really strict about being good to you, especially when he's not having one of his breakdowns."

Awwww, is he... is he scared that if he crosses any boundaries or does something that freaks us out, we'll leave him?

That's part of the reason. But it's also how he is as a person. He wants to be a good boyfriend and for you to feel loved.

[thrillered]

Couples Tattoos | Spencer Agnew x Reader Oneshot

Here's my little blurb about a tattoo I noticed during this vid and I'm obsessed with it. I know the pic is blurry asf but I had to screenshot it from the smosh mouth ep 😭

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"I think I want to get a tattoo.” you mentioned offhandedly while you were working on your laptop, sitting near Spencer. 

“You should, I think it’ll be cool.” Spencer agreed. 

“I just want it to be important I guess.” You remarked, scooting closer to Spencer. “At least for my first.” 

You didn’t have any tattoos. You always wanted to get one but felt nervous about putting something so permanent on your body. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, had many tattoos. He frequently got tattoos; he had gotten 4 since you got together. You adored his tattoos, you thought they were so nerdy and fun but made him extra attractive. 

“Can we get one together?” You asked.

“Seriously?” He asked, turning his whole body to face you, with a surprised face. “That’s a big commitment.” 

“Well I love you and I don’t plan on ever not being with you so..” 

Spencer couldn’t help but smile at this. The sentiment made him giddy and why not? You had been together for years and Spencer planned on marrying you one day. 

“Let’s do it.” Spencer agreed, wholeheartedly ready to make an appointment. 

“Really?” You asked, the widest smile on your face. 

“Fuck it man.” He laughed, both of your work long forgotten. “I’ve gotten tattoos of absolute bullshit, at least this would be meaningful.” 

—

You and Spencer had been brainstorming tattoo ideas for weeks, doing intense research on styles and artists. As excited as you both were, neither of you had any clue what to get. Spencer wanted to let you have the final decision since it was your first. 

You were laying in bed with Spencer, watching a movie. You flipped over, settling your head on his chest and laying your leg over his, straddling his side slightly. This was your favorite way to cuddle, it felt intimate. Spencer knew this about you. It was something he had noticed very early on in your relationship, and he loved it. Something about the way you loved being close to him brought him a lot of joy. You settled into Spencer, sighing when you found the perfect position. 

This was when Spencer had an idea. He didn’t want to wake you, as you were on the verge of sleep, but he immediately wrote his idea down on his phone. 

The next day when you both went into the office he made his way to the art department. “I need one of your guys' help.” He said, walking up to the group of desks. 

“Okay?” Erin Kushner asked, pulling her headphones off one ear. 

“I need a concept design for a tattoo, doesn't need to be anything crazy.” 

“Yeah sure, what's the tattoo?” Erin agreed. 

Spencer explained his idea, getting teased by Erin for how cute your relationship was. Erin quickly drew up a perfect picture for him. He was incredibly excited to show you it, knowing you would fall in love. 

—

He waited until you were home and settled. You were cuddled on the couch with him, watching as he scrolled through twitter. “I think I have the perfect tattoo for us.” Spencer said, pulling the paper out of his pocket. “I thought of it last night but wanted to get it drawn out to show you.” 

He showed you the drawing Erin did, noting the gasp that left your lips. It was a Keith Herring-esq drawing of two figures lying together, cuddled up in your favorite position. 

“Wait, I love it, that’s so cute.” 

“It's the way we always lay together.” He explained, even though you already knew, he was just excited to talk about it. 

“This is the sweetest thing ever, it’s perfect. I love you Spence.” You squealed, smiling into a sweet kiss you placed on his lips. “Wait! We can fill in the one that represents us.” You offered excitedly. 

“I love that.” Spencer smiled, his heart swelling at your excitement. “I’ll book an appointment tomorrow? We’ll probably get in within a few weeks.” 

You agreed, rambling about where you should get it. 

—

Three weeks had gone by and today was the day of your tattoo appointment. It wasn’t until yesterday that you decided your placement, you and Spencer both wanting to get it on your inner arm. 

Spencer got his tattoo first, showing you it would go just fine. It eased your nerves, calming you down before you got in the seat. 

He held your hand the entire time. You told him it was okay and the pain wasn’t awful but he insisted on holding it the whole time to “keep you calm”. 

When the appointment was over you and Spencer had the most beautiful couple tattoos. Your artist took some pictures for you and you both immediately posted them, excited to share it with the world. 

Even though everyone knew you and Spencer were in love, now you both had a depiction of your love immortalized forever.

[an0nwr1tes]

Galtean Klance you have my heart-

Thinking about Galra Keith who’s slowly becoming more and more Galra and developing weird habits that he just isn’t sure how to deal with and Lance who’s reeling from the fact that he’s now Altean and having no idea what that means or how to deal with it so he set all his attention on Keith.

Lance who’s helping Keith deal with all the weirdness of being half Galra by hesitantly going along with everything Keith needs, because the last he screamed when Keith dropped a freshly killed animal in his lap Keith just looked so sad, and ignoring Allura and Coran as they try showing Lance more about Altean’s.

Lance and Keith’s alien discovery’s and experiences being both so similar and so so different, Lance who’s more or less been forced into this position because he died and Allura healed him and brought him back but not quite right and Keith who finally knows who he is and that he’s not weird or different he’s just Keith.

Keith’s parents loved each other, they loved him and he’s proof of that.

Lance’s death was real and he’s constantly forced to remember that when he looks in the mirror.

Lance who loves Keith and tells him that everyday, Lance who forces Keith to sit in his huge Galra form so he can brush through his fur and make it all shiny.

Keith who loves Lance and presses kisses to each mark under his eyes because he knows how hard it is for Lance to look at them sometimes, Keith who whispers “You’re beautiful,” every morning when they get up and every night before they fall asleep.

Lance who can’t stand too look at himself anymore, who freezes when he catches sight of his white hair and blue marks and has to remind himself that that him.

Keith who finally feels right when he catches sight of his reflection, the mark on his face and the fur and ears in his Galra form and wonders how he ever thought that he was anything but this.

Lance who loves Keith in any form, Keith who loves Lance in any form.

Keith who couldn’t stand his Galra form in the beginning, Lance who approached Coran and Allura for help because he wanted to show Keith that he was perfect as he was.

Keith who goes stiff at the sight of a strangely familiar Galra in the hanger when he gets back from a blade mission, Lance who smiling hesitantly and explains what he’s been doing and Keith is falling in love all over again.

Suddenly the Voltron team is forced to get used to two big Glara’s cuddling on the sofa, Allura attacked them once before they turned back in a panic.

Lance who doesn’t know how to make himself only half Galra so he end up taller than Keith.

Keith who’s all for picking up his large boyfriend and carrying him around, because that’s his boyfriend.

Lance who starts giving Keith little trinkets to keep on him and pretty little hair ties to braid his fur with.

Keith who starts cooking the hunts he brings back with them because Lance doesn’t like his things getting bloody.

Lance who’s doing so well and then he’s in the bathroom and freezes at the sight of himself.

Keith who’s doing so well and then he’s sees someone flinch at the sight of him.

Lance who promises Keith’s that it’s ok and holds his cheeks in his hands and kisses his eyelids, who stays in his Altean form so Keith can wrap himself around him and they can cuddle.

“You’re so precious, how could anyone be scared of you and your cute button nose and your fluffy paws!”

Keith who presses Lance to his chest and counts the beats of his heart with him, who runs his hands down Lance’s side and mutters.

“Can you feel that? See, you’re here with me Lance, you’re alive.”

Just Galtean Klance being each others anchors.

[iloveboysinred]

Helloooo!!! Could you please write a drabble or headcanon about sub!Keith Kogane? 😩😩😩 maybe like how would a first time b w/him

thank uuuuuu i love ur fics‼️🗣️💗💗

Keith sucked in a breath as you lowered yourself onto him, fighting the urge to grip onto your hips. He felt himself melt into the mattress with a groan as your warm entrance enveloped his weepy tip, his hips twitching with every inch your plush walls sucked in.

“let me know if you need help, babe” he tried to tease, his hand trailing up your body to squeeze and play with your chest, a distraction from the small waves of pleasure coursing through his body. You rolled your eyes at his attempt to be cocky, his voice picking up into a poorly concealed whine as you experimentally rolled your hips, fully seated on his pulsing length. “I think i got it, Keith.” He hummed in response, dropping his hands from your body to rest them behind his head. “Alright, fuck me like you said you would.”

And you did.

You and Keith could be very competitive in the bedroom, the both of you trying to fuck the other’s brains out best you could without losing your own mind, but he never quite let you take the lead like you were now. You were determined to shut him up.

“Oh fuck-“ he gasped as you started rocking your hips up and down his length, the wet smacks of your skin echoing in the room as you picked up the pace, relentless in the way you chased your own pleasure. He looked up at you, an incredulous expression on his face.

“Whats that?” You teased, leaning down to press a wet kiss on the corner of his mouth, his dark hair tickling your cheek. “Eating your words, huh?” He furrowed his brows as you slowed your pace into slow grinds, the tip of his dick kissing all the right spots inside of you.

He reached for you, his hands ghosting over your hips before you smacked them away. “Uh uh. Hands to yourself” he groaned throwing his head back. You steadied yourself on his chest, planting your feet as flat as you could on the mattress. No more cocky comments and slick words, your boyfriend reduced to a whimpering mess as you took his soul with lethal rhythm.

[billthedrake]

LINEAGE (PART NINE)

The alarm went off early. Way early. It was our weekday routine now. The twins were sleeping in, and the pre-sunrise hours were the only time Braden felt he could get a workout in. And I had shifted my work hours to get in the office early so I could pick Ev and Keith up from school. Junior had offered to help now that he was driving and sometimes I asked him to drive his little brothers around, but he had golf practice 3 or 4 days out of 5 after school.

"MMmmff," I moaned, stretching out in bed, not willing to open my eyes just yet. I felt Braden's warm body snuggle against mine. He was about to turn 40, and as he neared that milestone, his muscle seemed fuller somehow, bulkier.

"I gave us an extra fifteen minutes, Dad," he croaked in his morning voice. "You wanna...?" Already his fingers were wrapped around my morning wood. It had taken a while for me to get comfortable with sleeping naked. When Junior, Evan, and Keith were younger, Brade and I would worry about them barging in. But we'd taught them to respect our privacy, and now we had the freedom to sleep naked, even if we weren't having sex.

My mouth sought his. I loved kissing Brade, always had, but truth be told, I was having some guilt now that things had started up with Junior. It had only been a couple of weeks since I'd crossed that line with our eldest. It was hard not to dive right into something intense, and I knew Junior wanted to. But we needed to take our time, and I needed to know how this new dynamic fit with my marriage to Junior's daddy.

I now took the initiative of rolling Braden over. Dad on top. I kissed along his neck and pinned his hands back to the pillow. I made my way to his arm pits and kissed his strong pecs.

Braden knew what my target was. A puffy nipple sticking out of his chest fur. My son was still breastfeeding the twins, but not nearly as much now that they were also eating baby food. More milk for me.

My suckling technique was well honed and I could taste the sweet man milk.

"Oh fuck, Dad," Braden hissed, caressing my head. It was perverted as fuck, but we both got off on this. Maybe because it was a sign of the way Braden's ex-Marine body had completely transformed in childbearing. And how it was gonna transform once more the next time I knocked him up.

I was fully fuck-hard now. I leaned up and kicked apart his legs, then reached over to turn on the lamp to to pump out some lube into my palm.

"How fertile are you, Son?" I asked, slicking up. I loved the vision of Braden's masculine nakedness beneath me. Hard muscle, solid, spreading his legs and pulling them back for me.

"I'm not yet 40, Dad... when the time's right you're gonna impregnate me again."

"Damn," I hissed. "Give you another brother."

"Make yourself another boyfriend," Braden hissed. He reached over for some lube to finger into his hole. It was a sign I could go a little harder this morning. My son was in heat.

"Damnit, Brade," I said. We'd talked about the implications of me and Junior, and Brade was encouraging. But somehow, over two weeks, we hadn't talked about it sexually, at least not like this.

He was getting turned on by the idea, thoough. "Who knows how many of our sons you'll sleep with."

I nudged my cock into place. Trying not to go there.

But Braden knew I was turned on, too. "You like the idea, don't you, Dad?"

"God, yes, Son." I pushed in. "You know I do."

Brade was wrapping his legs around me, pulling my body toward his. This was a nice mix of a Brade fuck and a Bill fuck. My hard cock plunging in deep and roughly while we embraced missionary.

It was like Braden could read my mind. "This is the position Junior was conceived in," he said. Holding my back as I hard dicked him.

"You, too, son," I hissed.

"Oh fuck, Dad." Braden LOVED that idea. "Seventh time the charm?"

"You got it. Sport. Grow that litter we got going."

"Sprawling Drake family..." my son grunted. "Incest DNA."

"I'd love for Junior to watch us. To watch us make him another brother."

"His nephew."

"Fuck yes." I was getting real into the sex. This was turning into a hotter session than I expected on a Tuesday morning. Then the idea came bubbling up from the repressed part of my mind. "Would you like Junior fuck you, Brade?" I asked, a hard edge to my voice.

But my son was right there with me. "In a heartbeat, Dad."

I was cumming, maybe more loudly than I normally did.

"Fill me up, Dad. Knock me up." Braden was entering his own cum, the semen shooting between our writhing bodies.

We uncoupled and took a second to catch our breath, lying side by side before Braden turned to me, sweat weighing down his bed head hair. "Was that just sex talk, Dad?"

I shook my head. "Not on my end, it wasn't. If you're up for it, Son.... if Junior is up for it."

Braden looked at me with clear excitement, but was circumspect in his reply. "I know you two have your own bond, Dad. I don't wanna intrude on that."

"You ever think he feels the same way about us?" I asked.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

I patted Braden's thigh and looked over at the clock. "I should get ready for work, Son."

"Yeah," my son said. He was enjoying the recovery rest from the sex. A part of me wondered if he was ovulating now, if my swimmers were finding their way...

I was chubbed showering, but I didn't take my time. I shaved and got dressed in a matter of a few minutes. And as I picked out a tie and slipped on my dress shoes, Braden took his turn to shower off.

The house was quiet when I made my way to the kitchen, but Junior was there, wearing workout clothes. He'd begun to join Brade for an intense pre-school lifting session. He had his cup of coffee and when he saw me appear, he went over to pour me a cup.

"Morning, Dad," he whispered.

"Morning, kiddo," I said. "You don't have to do that for me."

Junior smiled. He was a normal 18-year-old in so many ways, but was also clearly majorly infatuated. It was an adorable combination. "I like doing it for you... I know you don't have a lot of time in the morning."

I smiled and stepped up. Junior was surprised by the kiss, but he eagerly turned toward me and opened his mouth for my soft tongue.

"Thank you," I said. It was about more than the coffee.

"Um..." my son said. "You want me to take care of you, before work?"

I shook my head. "Your daddy did a pretty good job of that already."

"Oh," Junior replied. Clearly disappointed.

"You can't be jealous, kiddo. OK?" This was me as authority figure but also in understanding boyfriend mode. Like I'd been with Braden when we first started.

"I know, Dad," Junior said.

"We'll have a date night soon, how bout that?"

Junior nodded eagerly, a huge smile on his face. "You must think I'm ridiculous," he laughed with some embarrassment.

"Hardly, stud..." God, this young man was so hard to say no to. "Listen... why don't I take care of you, this morning?" I knew Ev and Keith would sleep in, and the twins were sounds asleep.

Junior nodded, grateful and horny.

I crouched down, right there in the kitchen, and tugged down Junior's shorts. Braden had given him a new pair of Marines-logo PT shorts and Junior was wearing them around the house nonstop lately. I saw a jock strap and looked up to grin.

"Something new?" I asked quietly.

Junior smiled, still embarrassed. "I saw that Daddy wears a strap beneath his shorts when he works out."

I chuckled and hooked my thumb into the waistband. As I peeled the jock down, I saw Junior's big shaft plop up into a standing position. Seven-and-some inches of hard Drake cock.

I wanted to take my time. And I wanted to go verbal. But neither was gonna happen that morning. So I wetted my lips and ran my hands up Junior's firm quad muscle before leaning in.

"Oh shit, Dad," Junior gasped.

I wasn't a great cocksucker, but to Junior it was like I was the best imaginable. His own dad going down on him. Right there in the kitchen, before work, before school. A down payment for much more to come between us. I worked more and more son dick into my mouth and into my throat. My hand caressing his nut sac while I blew him.

Junior cradled my skull, affectionately and respectfully as I worked a healthy teen load from his balls. If my sucking skill wasn't the best, I had the swallowing part down. I gave my son's dick a soft kiss when I finally pulled off.

Slowly, Junior recovered from his orgasm and pulled up his jockstrap and shorts.

"Sure I can't do you, Dad?" he asked. He could see the ridge of dad dick in my suit trousers.

"We'll take a rain check, kiddo... how bout that?"

"Perfect."

We kissed again, softly, until I finally got some willpower to get on with my morning.

"I'm late," I whispered into his lips.

"All right, get going, old man," he teased. He pulled back and reached up into the cabinet for a travel mug. I took it from him and poured my cup into it.

"There's something I want to discuss with you later, Junior," I said.

He could tell from my tone that it wasn't anything bad or too serious, but his curiosity was piqued. "What is it, Dad?"

"Later... but come see me when you get back from practice, OK?"

"Will do, Dad."

At that moment, Braden walked in, in his own workout clothes. "Ready, Bill?" he asked Junior.

"Yeah, Daddy," he said, taking one more sip of his coffee to hide the guilty expression he had. We'd have to talk about that later, clear the air.

"I'm off," I told my husband and gave him a soft peck of a kiss. Then I lingered, going a little deeper in the goodbye kiss. I wasn't trying to make Junior jealous, but he needed to know I loved his father, too.

****

I was still getting used to the mansion. I wasn't sure how much more we'd grow our family. Braden and I talked about how we still wanted more kids, but we'd see if he felt like that as he got into his 40s. For now, we had a lot of extra room. Brade had his own man cave that doubled as a nursing area - with a big-screen TV, football memorabilia, leather chairs and a foosball table. Junior had a second master bedroom with his own giant bathroom and hottub. I had my own private study that was my home office and just a place that I enjoyed spending an hour alone from time to time. It wasn't like the boys were forbidden from coming in, but they rarely did. It was my space.

I was there doing some take-home work at my laptop, when I saw Junior step into the doorway. He'd just come back from after school golf practice and was still in his golf attire, from the ball cap to the white golf shoes.

"Is now a good time, Dad?" he asked. I could sense a deference in his voice, but also an eagerness. He'd been thinking all day, I knew, about what had gone on that morning and the fact I'd asked for a serious talk.

"Yep, Junior, shut the door," I said, shutting my lap top and moving over to the couch.

Junior had a shy grin as he joined me there.

"Good day?" I asked.

"Yeah, Dad," he said, spreading his legs some, as his knee jittered nervously.

"I wanted to check in with you. About us."

"I figured," he said.

I reached over and ran my hand along Junior's neck. I loved that I could be affectionate with him like this now, and I loved seeing how much he loved it. A smile broke out on his cute face.

"That feels nice," he said.

"You boning up, son?" I asked in a deep, soft voice.

He nodded, brown eyes meeting mine. "Oh yeah."

I caressed his neck with my fingers, letting him feel that gentle body contact. "You know... incest is about what we do with our cocks," I said, maybe getting too much into Dad lecture mode, "but it's more than that." I reached down and adjusted my own hardon, feeling trapped in my casual sweats I'd put on after work. "Your daddy is my husband and love of my life and whatever we have has got to fit into that."

I saw so much love in Junior's face just then. "Oh God, Dad, I'd never do anything you and Daddy," he said with his own deepening voice. It was hard not to realize how quickly Junior had grown up, and to realize that soon he'd be off to college. "I know... maybe sometimes it seems like I'm greedy when it comes to you."

"You're 18 and horny," I said. "That's natural."

"Yes, sir," Junior laughed. "Also.. you're my first real crush."

I took of his cap, running my fingers to push his short bangs back in place. Then I leaned in for a soft kiss.

I could tell Junior was having a REAL hard time approaching that kiss slow. I was, too, to be honest. But this was better, taking our time and feeling out the emotion of the moment. I finally pulled back and pressed my forehead against his. "I'm crushed out on you too, buddy."

"Fuck!" Junior hissed.

I continued to massage his neck with my hand and moved a little to squeeze his trap muscle. I thought about what Todd Fiedler had said to me, about his own evolving family dynamic. "If you can handle me fully committed to your Daddy, I'd love for us to be boyfriends. Try that out."

"Damnit Dad... you don't know how much I want that," he said. Junior's self restraint was fading and he reached down to grip my hard crotch. I didn't stop him. "Tell me what I need to do to make that happen."

I'd been giving it some thought. "Date night, you and me, once a week. The other nights are reserved for your Daddy." I paused. "Unless you want to join us some time."

That got an excited reaction from the young stud. "You guys would be open to that?"

I nodded. "If that appeals to you," I said.

"Daddy's a hot stud, Dad. The idea of you two at the same time.... Fuck!"

"You can't let your brothers know," I cautioned. "When the time's right, I'll tell them about you and me."

Junior had a huge smile at that. "Can I be there when you do, Dad?"

"I suppose so," I replied, not sure what he was getting at.

"You're going to think I'm silly.. but I want to learn how to be a dad. I've been watching you and Daddy, trying to learn from you."

"Kiddo, that's the most amazing thing you've ever told me," I breathed. I was horny as fuck, but also paternal proud. "I've noticed you've been reading up on parenthood."

Junior nodded, embarrassed as much as he was proud. "I know it's years away, but I'd like to have kids like you and Daddy."

"Follow in your Dad's footsteps, huh?"

"Pretty much," Junior blushed.

I patted his leg. I wanted to have sex with Junior in the worst way right then, but it was getting close to dinner time. "Dinner's about ready, but I'm glad we had this conversation, Junior."

"Me, too, Dad. Fuck!"

"Another kiss before we go join the family?"

Our kiss wasn't nearly as soft this time.

***

After dinner, Junior took his brothers out to toss the football. Brade looked after the twins. And I cleaned up and did the dishes. Out the window, I could see the Fiedler house, another mansion with another incest family. Together our families were forging our dream, creating the lives that we wanted, that felt right to us. Dating Junior was a big step, a huge step. I still wasn't sure I could juggle the emotional commitments with the role of fatherhood for two generations. But I know I'd try.

I was getting hard, rock hard. Hanging up the dish towel I went to family den, where Brade and twins were.

"How'd it go?" my son asked, looking up.

"Really f-in well," I said. Even if the twins were just 2, I was making an effort not to curse around them. Kids pick up everything like a sponge. "You up for inviting him to our room tonight?"

I could sense the excitement in Braden's eyes. "You gotta ask, Dad?"

"Yeah," I said. "You're my husband, Son. I gotta ask."

"The answer is yes," my eldest said. "I'll follow your lead. Whatever you guys are comfortable with."

I nodded. Jesus my dick wasn't gonna go down anytime soon. I nodded to the backyard. "It's getting dark... they'll be in soon."

Braden nodded. The parental duties were reasserting themselves. "Can you put the twins to bed tonight? I'll look after Ev and Keith."

"Sure," I said, getting down on the floor to play with Andrew and Brady, while Braden got up.

"Oh, and you free Saturday after golf? Pop Warner seasons starts."

"I'll be there."

I heard the door open even from the other side of the house and the rambunctious sounds of 12 and 13 year olds running through the house. A minute later, Junior appeared. "Need help, Dad?"

"I'm good, kiddo," I said. "You can get to your homework." I really wasn't trying to lecture, Junior, after all he was a good student, but I knew he hadn't had time to do his schoolwork yet.

"Aye aye," he gave a mock salute. "You always get on Daddy's case about homework when he was my age?" he teased.

I looked up and smiled. "All the time. It didn't work."

That made Junior laugh.

He was about to leave when I stopped him. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I said. "Kiddo... what do you think of coming to our room tonight? When your brothers are asleep?"

That got a huge smile. Junior wasn't expecting that so soon. "Fu-... I mean..." he caught himself. "That'd be incredible, Dad." Then getting a playful grin, he added. "Is this an incentive for me to do my homework."

I love that Junior and I shared a sense of humor, our own in-jokes. "Something like that, buddy. Maybe, around 10:30? No need to knock, just be discreet, OK?"

"You got it, Dad."

***

Brade and I were able to enjoy about a half hour of naked making out and foreplay. I told him about the conversation I had with Junior, about being boyfriends with my second son and about how we'd balance that with the primal father-son marriage I had with Braden.

"I'm leaking so much, Dad." Indeed, his precum smeared our bellies as we embraced.

"He's gonna see something special, Brade," I said, running my hands along his muscular arms and feeling his hard prick against my own.

"Me, too," Braden said. "I've not yet seen him naked."

"He's grown into a fucking stud," I said.

"Hot fucking golf jock," Braden growled.

"Damn, buddy... we're gonna fuck around with our own son."

"Your boyfriend."

Braden and I kissed.

As we were getting into the make out session, the door opened. Junior stepped in quietly, He had his golf shorts on, but nothing else. Even from feet away, I could fell our son was rock hard and leaking.

"Damn," he whispered. Then stepping in, he added, "You OK with this, Daddy."

Braden grinned. "You have no idea, Bill," he replied. Scooting over to the side of the bed he patted the spot between him and me. "Come join us."

His eyes were on our nakedness, me rock hard and my dad dick sticking straight up, and Braden in a similar start of sexual excitement. Junior started undoing his shorts, then stopped, almost asking for permission before I interjected, "Lose the shorts, kiddo. Let Daddy see all of you."

Junior grinned, excitement gaining the upper hand over nervousness. He let his shorts fall and then stepped out of them.

"Goddamn, that's a beautiful dick," Brade said.

Junior's chest puffed out with pride as he walked over to the side where Braden was. He let my husband see his teen hardon jutting out while his hand felt up Braden's muscular quad muscle. "It is OK if I touch him, Dad?" he asked, looking up at me.

"You don't gotta ask, buddy... we're here to explore each other tonight, OK?"

Junior's voice croaked in lust. "Yeah, OK."

He climbed into bed, making his way over Braden's muscle body to wedge his own from between us. Junior was shaking a little next to me as he looked between me and Brade.

"You OK with this, son?" I asked, patting his leg.

"More than OK, Dad. Just turned on as fuck. That's all."

Braden laughed and turned toward us, his prick nudging Junior's bare thigh. "It's like me the first times I fooled around with Dad." Brade's hand was on Junior's abs now, moving up to feel his meaty chest.

I watched them kiss. God, it was so hot, seeing that incest as a witness and not just a participant. Especially watching how Junior got into it. Feeling up his daddy and roving his hand around until it wrapped around Brade's cock.

I kissed along Junior's neck and shoulder, and after a few seconds he turned to kiss me as well. Right on the mouth, right in front of my other son.

Already Braden was scooting down the bed. I had a sense of where he was going, and indeed as I kissed Junior deep I felt him grunt into my mouth.

"How's that feel, kiddo?" I asked as I pulled away. I didn't need to look down to know that Brade was sucking Junior's big piece.

"Holy shit, Dad. You didn't tell me he was this good."

I heard Braden come up and spit out the cock, giving a soft laugh. "Dad likes to keep things to himself sometimes."

Junior gave a dumb nod, turned on, horny as fuck. Especially as he watched Brade move over to swallow me to the hilt.

"Dad, that's fucking beautiful."

"Incest," I said directly. The word itself made Junior's cock twitch noticeably. "You wired for it, too, buddy? Like me and your daddy are?"

"You have no idea, sir."

I kissed Junior. This was so amazing. Me and Junior and Brade forging this threeway sexual bond. Emotionally, there was me and Brade, and me and Junior. And of course Braden was Junior's parent. But here, we was showing Junior how hot incest could be, verbalized and acknowledged.

"I wanna help Daddy out," Junior finally said.

"Go for it, kiddo."

I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. My two oldest sons were tag team sucking me. Swapping off, doing a little tandem licking, and attacking my nuts with their tongues while the other sucked. Pretty soon, I could notice Braden was actively coaching Bill Jr in how to suck cock. How to suck my cock.

"That dick made you, Bill, show it some respect," he'd breath. Then nudging Junior off, he said, "Like this..." and swallow me deep. "Wanna give it a try?"

They passed my dick back and forth about five times, before it was too much. As Junior started really getting the swing of sucking me, I blasted hard. He moaned and with equal excitement pulled off to offer half of my ejaculation to Braden. The two slurped my cum then shared it in a kiss.

"Damn..." I hissed. I was rock hard and yet completely drained. I hadn't been this turned on in ages.

"Lie back, Bill," Braden said, and I watched Junior rejoin the spot next to me. I winked at him and he smiled back. The jitters were completely gone. Junior was enjoying the hell out of his first incest threesome.

I looked down to see Braden get into place between Junior's long spread legs. He was still not very hairy, but pretty soon the short leg hair would grow in more and his legs would look furrier.

For now, Braden seemed to take his time feeling up Junior's young muscle and nuzzling the most smooth ball sac.

"Fuck, Daddy!" Junior let out before checking his volume. "That feels so fucking good."

"You want your Daddy to suck you off?" I hissed, running my hands on Junior's strong chest.

"I want that incest blowjob," Junior said. He was a fast learner when it came to the kind of sex talk Braden and I enjoyed regularly.

"A father's mouth on son's cock," I said.

"He's my brother, too," Junior added.

That did it for Braden. My husband couldn't hold off going back down on Junior. Not teasing or taking his time, Brade was giving a full speed suck job.

Junior's toes were curling and his body tensing as he looked to me, pleasure and need in his face.

I kissed my new son-boyfriend hard. As Junior and I made out, he orgasmed. If I felt any jealousy, it was merely that my husband was able to get Junior off orally so much better than I could.

"Let me do you, Brade..." I started to say, only as he leaned up, I saw a string of cum dripping from the tip of his prick.

"Sorry, Dad, I couldn't hold off," Braden replied. He plopped down next to Junior, face flushed and still in sexual overstimulation.

I could sense Junior laugh. "That was SO hot, Dad... everything."

I patted Junior's firm abs. "If you can slip out first thing in the morning, kiddo, you're welcome to sleep in here."

Junior looked over at Braden for confirmation, who nodded. "I'm probably not gonna get any damn sleep, but yeah..."

We made out some, pairing in different combinations. Doing a threeway kiss wasn't practical but we tried that anyway.

Finally it was time for bed. Braden cleaned up and brushed his teeth, then it was Junior's turn. I heard Braden explain where towels things were, since we were all settling into the new house.

My eldest son had a huge grin when he came out naked, that uncut dick finally soft. "That was more incredible than I even dreamed, Dad," he said.

I slid out of bed and gave Brade a soft kiss. "I'll say. I'm glad you're OK with this."

He nodded. "I'm not gonna angle in on your thing with Bill," he said quietly. "He needs his own bond with you. I don't want to take that from him."

"You gave him a pretty special gift tonight, son. You gave both of us a special gift."

Braden shrugged. He saw this as just normal. "There's plenty of more of that, I guess, if it plays out that way."

"Plays out what way?" Junior asked as he stepped out. His dick was nearly a match of mine, only uncut like Braden's. He looked like a young god just then.

I placed my arm over Braden's shoulder. "Your Daddy and I were just saying how well this went."

Junior smiled. I watched his dick fill out and with a few jerks stand up to full teen erection. "Sorry, Dads," he said. "Can't help."

"Don't need to be sorry for an incest hardon," Braden said. "Your Dad and I get them all the time."

I would have gotten one, too, but I was completely drained just then. Besides, I'd had sex first thing that morning, and twice in a day was pushing it for my normal 56-year-old sexual response. I watched Brade and Junior climb into bed, snuggling up to one another. I'd join them after got ready for bed myself. I took a piss and washed off my genitals with a washcloth.

I pulled out my toothpaste and as I went to reach for my toothbrush, I saw not two but three brushes in the holder.

Now, my dick expanded and began getting hard.

[lovebugism]

AH HI!! so... i love the way you write ditzy!reader, and especially with steve idk it just warms my heart yk? The way they interact 😭 it's so lovely

Since I'm an angsty girly at heart, I thought about a situation where steve gets a teeny tiny bit frustrated with ditzy!reader, but it's just seconds, even less than that but it's enough to make her upset for making him upset but also a super fluffy moment between both of them and steve being mesmerized by her and just so much in love

ahh thank u lovie! pls enjoy!! — steve gets frustrated with his sensitive gf and makes up with her accordingly (hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You keep Steve company during the last half of his shift like you always do. 

He’s grumpier than usual, though — all pouty and visibly brooding. 

You plop yourself on the front counter of Family Video and ask him what’s wrong, and he tells you that the day’s been hell and he’s just tired. There is no “but I feel better now” like there usually is when he’s upset but doesn’t want you to think it’s your fault. 

The “because you’re here” is typically implied. 

Not so much now.

You’re having the complete opposite day of your sulking boyfriend. Yours had been dreadfully boring, or at least you say it had been, but you find a million different things to tell him. You’re too excited after having spent so many hours without him, like a dog with a wagging tail. You’ve got the zoomies of the mouth, if you could even call it that.

“—And then I saw the cutest dog on the way over here. His name was Cappy, and he was huge, and the owner was so nice. He even let me pet him, and he literally felt like a cloud— the dog, not the owner.”

Steve is used to this. The whole rambling about nothing thing. He loves it about you, actually. It took him ages to coax you out of that shell after your asshole ex told you that you talked too much, convinced you that no one cared about what you had to say.

You’re more comfortable now, and Steve loves that you are, but right now he just can’t concentrate.

Keith’s been on his ass about inventory all day, and he just learned how to do it on the old, bulky computer this morning — but only after Robin made him an hour late to his shift. Everything’s just too much now. He’s overwhelmed to the point of spontaneous combustion. 

For the first time ever, you’re not helping.

“—And, like, I know when we move into our apartment, we’re technically not allowed to have pets, but like… What about a fish? Or a turtle?” you wonder aloud but don’t stop to let him answer. Sitting on the edge of the counter, you kick your feet and flit your eyes to the spotted ceiling. “What if I start feeding the deer in the woods, and they just start showing up at our backdoor? ‘Cause technically—”

“Babe, please,” Steve snaps suddenly when your sneaker knocks his chair. He’s buzzing with anger, and even though it’s not because of you, he doesn’t know where else to put it.

Your eyes go wide at the newfound bite in his tone. He’s not shouting at you, but it makes your heart stop like he is. You feel like a kid again, getting scolded for being “too much.”

“…What?” you squeak.

Steve sighs. A deep, heavy sigh. It doesn’t remove the leaden weight from his chest, though. 

“I’m… I’m really trying to concentrate here, and you’re just— you’re making it really hard,” he tells you through gritted teeth, trying hard to keep his composure.

You deflate like a popped balloon. “Oh…”

He can hear the waver in your tone, the way your voice sounds wet with unshed tears. But he’s too overwhelmed — internally raging and selfish with it. His sweltering temper makes his woe feel more important than yours.

“Yeah, so… Can you just— go bother someone else for, like, five minutes?” he asks, fists clenched on either side of the clunky keyboard, his gaze concentrated on the pixelated screen. “Robin’s probably sulking in a corner somewhere. Go find her.”

Your face crumbles like a balled-up piece of paper. Your chest gets all tight, and your eyes start to burn when tears gather behind them.

You’d always been a flower of melodrama — blooming eternally and constantly sensitive. So when Steve cut you off as you fantasized about a family of deer living in the backyard of an apartment you were supposed to share together, it felt like a knife in your chest. 

The irrational thought that he no longer wanted any of that with you was fleeting and vivid and burning. Irrational, still.

But now you’re annoying him. He’s told you as much, with an unusual harshness he’s never spat at you before. And now your fears feel much more real.

“I’m bothering you?” you ask him, barely intelligible through the whimper in your throat.

Steve huffs again. His elbows thunk against the desk when he puts his head in his palms, swiping his fingers through his hair like he always does when he’s antsy. 

“I just really need to get this done,” he tells you, softer now. He makes himself mad all over again, though, and gets sharper once more. “I need to finish this before I get fired, and then we have no apartment to move into because we have no money, alright?”

There it is. The root of all his anger. A lingering feeling of inadequacy. 

He wants a life with you, but all he’s got is a measly Family Video salary — which he’s lucky to have apparently, because he can’t seem to do anything right. It stirs like a fire in the pit of his stomach.

After another deep breath, he finally turns to look up at you. His honey eyes are wet and stern. The chiseled edges of his features are sharp. Gently, he pleads. “I really need to work here, babe.”

You nod, understanding and internally weeping. “Okay. I’m— I’m sorry, I was just— I’ve been missing you all day, and I got too excited, I think,” you confess, wringing your clammy hands in your lap like a scolded child.

“Don’t apologize,” Steve says with a huff, leaning back against the squeaking swivel chair. It’s old and has lost all its cushion. His stiff back aches all the more. There’s no relief, to any of it. 

He sits back up again and puts his unsure hands back on the keyboard. “Just— Just go, okay? Let me finish this.”

He leaves little room for argument.

You wouldn’t, though, even if you wanted to. Which you do. You’re just not strong enough.

—————

Steve tells you to go, but you end up in the kiddie corner across the store. 

Mr. Rogers puts on a bright red cardigan and sings a tune that makes you feel like crying. You sit on the color-blocked carpet, surrounded by block toys, and clutch a stuffed bunny to your chest. You can’t tell if the vintage VHS is making the screen blurry or if it’s the tears gathering heavy at your waterline.

Robin walks by you, does a double-take, and immediately reports to Steve.

“What did you do?” she interrogates with narrowed eyes, strolling up to the counter with a cart full of tapes to put away.

The hearty tap, tap, taping of the keyboard fills the silence. 

Steve doesn’t look at her until he’s finished up the last of his work. Only when it’s fully and finally complete does his hardened gaze dart to her. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. She’s upset.”

“What do you mean she’s upset?”

Robin rolls her eyes at his obliviousness. “I don’t know. She’s singing the Mister Roger’s theme song and, like, crying. It’s weird.”

Steve’s brows pinch. His heart does, too. “Crying?”

“Well— not crying, exactly. It’s this really weird blubbering thing.” She fails to explain it so she tries to imitate it. A sobbing, sniffling sort of noise. She fails at that, too. Her scrunched face goes back to normal. “Like that.”

Deadpanned, Steve nods. “Wow, Robin. That was really helpful. Thank you.”

“Just go comfort your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve still thinks she’s joking. Robin doesn’t lie, but she does have a tendency to overemphasize the mundane. 

He goes to see you anyway, though, and doesn’t think twice about any of it — about what Robin said or what he had said to you before that.

He finds you in the kid’s section, in front of the tiny television, surrounded by brightly colored toys. He smiles at the sight of you, exhaling a sharp laugh through his nose.

“What are you doing all the way over here, huh?” he questions to announce his arrival, which you seemingly hadn’t noticed. “This area is usually for kids, ya know? Well, kids and Dustin Henderson.”

He doesn’t sound as annoyed with you anymore. You’re grateful for that much, but you still feel a bit sick about the whole thing.

Your nervous hands pick the cotton of the fuzzy bunny in your arms. You keep your gaze on the television in front of you, but you aren’t really watching it anymore. “I used to watch this stuff a lot growing up. The nostalgia sorta makes me wanna puke. But, like, in a good way.”

Steve scoffs. “Well, maybe we should turn it off then, ‘cause if I have to clean up vomit after the day I’ve had, I might actually go insane.”

He’s kidding. Mostly. The universe tends to be cruel like that, but he’d clean up all your messes a thousand times over if he had to.

He laughs at his own joke as he crouches to sit down next to you. He bends his knees, props his arms on top of them, and looks over at you. You don’t crack a smile for him, which is weird because you always laugh at his jokes. Even the ones that aren’t funny. Especially the ones that aren’t funny.

His smile ebbs to a wavering half-smirk as he knocks his shoulder with yours. “You okay?”

You think for a moment, jutting your lips out, unblinking at the television screen. “No,” you answer after a few seconds of silence. “But I’ll get over it. I think.”

Your honesty makes his heart wrench — like you’ve wrapped both your tiny hands around the beating organ and squeezed. It knocks the breath out of his lungs, a fish so ruthlessly pulled from the water. He tries to speak through the sudden lack of air. “Wh—What happened? Was it… Did I do something? Did you—”

“No,” you cut off his stammering with a firm shake of your head. “I did something.”

“Oh,” is all he says, pink lips pouting and wide eyes darting. “What does… What does that mean? Did you, like, step on a rogue VHS or something? ‘Cause I do that all the time, and technically, that’s Rob’s fault for leaving them out, so—”

You shake your head again, digging your nails into the delicate cotton of the well-loved stuffy in your arms. “No. I was just— I was botheringyou, and now I feel bad,” you confess, all quiet like a meek child who’s learning what it means to be sorry.

Steve — your oh, so oblivious one — goes aflame with embarrassment. He’d been too clouded by his own anger to recognize the venom spilling from his mouth; to understand that it would inevitably hurt you.

With chiseled features twisted in confusion, he shakes his head and stammers. “What? No! You weren’t— You weren’t bothering me!”

You turn to look at him, for the first time since he sat down beside you. Your eyes are glassy and swimming with hurt. You try to keep your trembling features stoic. You don’t want to seem as hurt by it all as you really are. 

You feel like you should, anyway. What right do you have to be sad when you were the one being a bother?

“You said I was,” you remind him, still soft but sterner now. “You told me to go bother someone else—”

“Oh, babe…” Steve says, deflating just as you had. 

He knows how sensitive you are, how deeply you feel things. You’re vulnerable, raw — it makes everything feel more personal than it really is. It makes grumpy jabs from your dumbass boyfriend hurt like a lemon on a weeping wound.

He tries to apologize, knowing that he hurt you and that it’s not up to him to decide that he didn’t. 

“I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to, babe,” he murmurs, swiping a tense hand through his hair and then gesticulating wildly with it. “I was just being a dick, you know? I’ve been super stressed all day and—”

“Don’t apologize. I was being annoying.”

Steve blinks at you with wide, wet eyes — like you’ve hurt him by talking so cruelly about yourself. 

“Baby, no. No,” he urges, ducking down to meet your gaze when you look away from him. “I’m just an idiot, okay? I put off inventory until the last second, and Keith’s been on my ass all day about it, and I just— I took that out on you, and that’s not fair, and I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, pursing your bitten lips to the side and twisting the long ear of the bunny between your fingers. “It’s not your fault, Steve…” you murmur, almost inaudibly.

He scoffs. It sounds like a bitter laugh. “Well, actually, it kinda is.”

“I just… I don’t really understand what’s going on sometimes. Or, like, a lot of the time,” you admit with a distracted gaze, eyes flitting everywhere but to the boy beside you. You’re too ashamed to look at him now. “And it’s harder for me to know when I’m talking too much, you know? Or if I’m being super annoying.”

“I know…” Steve nods, trying his best to be sympathetic of you. He loves how soft you are — too much to understand you completely. He loves how gently you treat the rest of the world, how unusually giddy you get in your gentleness. 

You swallow through a tightening throat and shrug to pretend your world doesn’t feel like it’s crumbling around you. “And I don’t care about annoying other people— well, I do, but it’s different with you, you know? Other people can’t break up with me for being too much.”

“The idiot that told you you were too much had exactly zero personality,” Steve tells you, mostly because he means it but also to see you smile. 

You do, just barely. A grin so soft only someone deathly in love with you could see. 

“You’re never annoying me, okay? Ever. I love hearing you talk. I love having you around.”

“Yeah?” you ask him, blinking back burning tears.

“Hell yeah! You’re, like, the best part of my day! The only good part of my day, now that I think about it.”

Biting back a grin, you tease, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Robin made me late today, so we’re kinda not friends right now.”

“That’s mean,” you scold despite the growing smile on your face.

Steve shrugs. “We’ll make up before I clock out. No big deal.”

You go suddenly shy, smiling sheepish and tilting your chin to your chest to peek at him through your lashes. “Are we gonna make up before you clock out?” you wonder quietly.

“Only if you’re willing to forgive me for being an insufferable douchebag,” Steve answers, only half-joking. He very seldomly feels worthy of your softness.

You look at him with it, anyway. 

Full on beaming now, you reach across the short distance to wrap him in a firm embrace. The position is only slightly awkward. Sitting side by side with your asses on the hard carpet, your arms wound tightly around his neck — a bit like a snake smothering its prey. 

Steve feels grateful to be held so ardently. 

His nose smushes into your neck. The sweet scent of your perfume entwines with the warm scent of your sweater. He smiles into your shoulder when it makes you giggle. You pull back from him then, just to steal a quick peck a moment later. Your lips smack audibly against his grin.

“Can we make out before you clock out?” you lilt with a shy smirk.

“…That is the single best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Your giggle fills the empty store when Steve rises suddenly and pulls you with him. He leads you toward the back, tugging you by the hand down the short corridor and rambling all the way. “Keith left for the day, so his office is empty, which means it’s fair game—”

“I am not making out with you in Keith’s office!”

“But his desk chair is crazy comfortable, and also, he’s a dick, so… who cares?”

[cool-and-grizzled]

Lance throws his keys into the bowl in the entryway as he steps inside, and shucks off his shoes, in his usual messy way that Keith will complain about later.

"Babe, I'm home!" He calls out as he shrugs off his coat.

There's no answer as he walks to the kitchen to put away the groceries, and he can't even hear Keith puttering around upstairs either. That's unusual, he's usually home by the time Lance gets back from his last class, especially when he does a quick grocery run after he's finished.

"Keith?" He asks, walking into the living room to look for him.

He smiles when he spots his boyfriend passed out on the couch, his right hand hanging off the edge, fingers buried in Kosmo's fur, who's snoring like a tractor engine at the foot of the couch. Keith's face is smushed against the pillows, his bun messy at the top of his head, the shorter strands that escaped from it hanging into his eyes and snaking down his neck.

He looks so much younger like this, with the frown lines on his forehead smoothed out in his sleep. Lance sits down on the arm of the couch, and just watches him.

It's a rare sight, Keith sleeping, to him -- usually Keith is the one to fall asleep later and wake up first. He can take in the calm expression on his face, the crinkles in the corner of his eye from all the smiling still visible. His smiles are less rare, nowadays, but no less radiant and it still has the same devastating effect on Lance as it did when they were younger.

He gently brushes away the strand of hair that fell into his eye, careful not to wake him. As much as he used to tease Keith about his hair, he grow fond of the long haired look on him, loves running his hands through the silky locks, washing it for Keith because he knows no matter how much he'd harped on him about it, Keith wouldn't take proper care of it -- at least like this, it works in both of their favors, but mostly Lance's. He loves playing with it as they cuddle on the couch, watching a show or a movie on the TV during lazy nights in. Loves burying his fingers in it as he kisses Keith, as Keith takes him apart from the inside out.

He traces the purple mark on his cheek with a featherlight touch, a reminder both of his heritage and the fight with the clone of Shiro. He used to catch Keith staring at it with a frown, touching it with hesitant hands, his eyes sad. Lance did his best to soothe the pain of the memory associated with it, tracing and kissing it with all his affection.

He gets up from the arm of the couch, and steps away to pull a blanket over him, letting him sleep a little longer. His last mission has been exhausting, and even after two days back home the purple bags under his eyes barely lessened. He leans down to press a kiss to the small mole at his hairline, and he ruffles the fur between Kosmo's ears before walking back to the kitchen to put away the groceries.

Not even five minutes later, as he's putting the things into the cupboard over the counter, he hears the shuffling of socked feet on the kitchen tiles. Before he knows it, he's swallowed from the back by a blanket, Keith's arms trapping his against his torso. He feels Keith bury his face in his back, leaning his weight against Lance. A Keith still half asleep is a clingy Keith, and Lance will enjoy every moment of it.

"Hi there, sleepyhead."

"You're late," Keith mumbles into his shirt, his hold tightening on him.

Lance chuckles, and turns around to face his boyfriend. "I had to get some groceries."

"Fuck the groceries."

"You wouldn't have had enough of that sugary abomination you call breakfast for tomorrow if I hadn't gone."

Keith frowns at him. "Okay, first of all, strawberry pop tarts aren't abominations. Second, I could've eaten something else."

"And you would've been grumpy all morning because you didn't get your sugar shock first thing in the morning," Lance says, pressing a quick kiss on the tip of Keith's nose.

Keith scrunches his nose, as he always does when Lance does this, and he's so cute like this, Lance can't help but kiss him properly.