#age like milk yall

[readyforthegarden]

Every time someone says something mean or shady about Sam, I hope you know that a year is taken off of your life and given to him so he can outlive you out of spite 💅🏻

[thebearme]

Im praying that the P4 remake gets stuck in development hell cuz I know atlus will still chickenout and just dilute their characters flaws and complexity just so twitter doesn't cancel them like netflix and atla

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Coworker

Tw: violence, afab reader, A Lot Of Words

masterlists part 2

This is a pretty slow burn fic, enjoy yall

Minors and ageless blogs DNI please i will block u <3

You only ever talked to him once or twice, barely even remembering his name. You always mistook him as 'Citrus'. But he would correct you and say his name is Cyprus.

He doesn't speak to anyone, always working away at his cubicle. You would have to pass by his seat a few times to hand some reports, it was always barren. Nothing that showcases his personality outside work, no framed pictures, no trinkets, no keychains, and definitely no bowl filled with candies.

Yet, everyone gossips about him. He is undoubtedly attractive, you could see a faint outline of his toned muscles through his white, dress shirt. He wears a pair of titanium, rectangular glasses on the bridge of his nose. Always clean-shaven with a short, smart haircut. His skin has a healthy glow and gorgeous tan to it with barely any blemishes except the scar that cuts through his thick eyebrows and full lips. That adds to his rugged charm.

Everyone thought that his ears were weird, but refrained from talking about it, fearing that HR would pay them a visit for workplace bullying.

Your coworkers tried to buddy up with him before, either for office politics or genuine interest in him for being tall, dark, and handsome. But in the end, they failed and gave up. Because he would only talk to them about work, or not speak at all, just stare at them deadpan before telling them he has something to do.

You knew his good looks earned him your manager's favor. You have been observing him just like everyone in the room, he comes in at 9AM on the dot, and leaves at 5PM on the dot. Once his shift is over, nothing can stop him. No matter how high up there in the office hierarchy, no one can convince him to stay even as little as 5 minutes. It is especially egregious during meetings, despite being obviously nowhere near its conclusion, once the clock hits five, Cyprus would get up, politely yet albeit gruffly excuse himself, and leave the room.

You tried following his example once. You were called into HR the next day for not being a "team player". It isn't only you, even your other colleagues received a scolding for setting such boundaries while Cyprus left the building without having any sass thrown at him. It's either he gets preferential treatment or he does not give a damn if he gets fired from this job.

He disappears during lunch. Absolutely no one can find him, not in the break room, not the bathroom, and not even the parking lot. It was like a sighting of a cryptid when he would occasionally enter the communal kitchen to make himself a cup of black coffee, no sugar nor milk.

Of course, each time people would try to entertain him with small talk. Cyprus would simply reply with one-word answers or nothing at all.

Obviously, he isn't interested in letting his professionalism slip. Why bother trying to gain his approval? Whenever you had the pleasure of being alone in the coffee room with him, you would nod at him as a greeting, and he would do the same. After either one of you finished your business there, no goodbyes would be said.

There was a day when you decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator, it's always occupied and you would have to wait ages. By the time it reaches your floor, it will have already taken up half of your lunch break. Might as well get some exercise in.

You frowned at how dingy it was, but you started your journey downwards.

After reaching the next floor, you were surprised to catch none other than Cyprus sitting on the steps. He turned his head to you, seemingly annoyed at something. He has his phone in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other one.

You happen to be holding a lighter for your friend. You offered it to him, and Cyprus would gladly accept it. He grumbled out a 'thanks' before handing it back to you. Not liking the smell of cigarette fumes, you gave him an acknowledging look and left him alone.

He gazed at you pensively as you descended the stairs while blowing a puff of smoke from his mouth. The cigarette was held between his index and middle fingers.

It's been three months since you first joined this company. The only thing you knew about Cyprus is that he worked here longer than you, has a cig for lunch, and isn't a pushover. From what you learned from your colleagues, he only worked here for a year before your arrival. Right off the bat, he's already acting like this. Never sucking up to the higher-ups or going above and beyond like other newbies would.

Though, it isn't like he's a horrible worker. Cyprus wasn't the best either. He just does just enough not to get dismissed. He reaches his deadlines, has everything in writing, and would professionally call anyone out for giving him too much to do.

Since the day where you used the stairs, you would always bump into Cyprus without fail. Looks like you found his hiding spot and he is always filling up his lungs with grey poison. But you had no desire to share it with anyone, he probably would prefer to keep his safe haven unoccupied. The only constant daily interaction that the two of you had was a mutual nod.

There was a particular day when you decided to put on a new pair of work shoes. It was also the same day when you had to rush out of the building for an important appointment. You didn't realize how slippery the soles were, it took one misstep and you found yourself tumbling down the stairs.

Luckily though, your collision course was stopped by a pair of strong arms catching you before you could hit the wall.

Cyprus helped you up. But you had no time to waste, you muttered a quick thanks before rushing to flee the scene again.

His sharp eyes must have picked up what the problem is. Well, it didn't take a genius. You were already barely keeping your balance while scrambling to get back onto your two feet. So, Cyprus would apprehend you by the wrist, preventing you from going down.

"Stop rushing, you're going to slip again." He said, his voice was deep enough to feel it vibrating in your bones.

You end up taking off your shoes and assuring him you're going to be fine. He lets you go and you take off running, regardless of his command.

You came back the next day with a bruise on your forehead and another pair of shoes on your feet. Your nosy coworkers flocked around your table to ask what happened. You said your stupid shoes were too slippery, you slipped and hit your head. Leaving out the part where Cyprus helped you out at the stairs.

Just like usual, you took the stairs again during your lunch break.

You expected a nod and nothing else.

"You okay?" He asked. Which surprised you. Switching the focus from the steps to Cyprus, who is standing tall on the platform with a cigarette between his lips.

You muttered yes, and a "thanks for asking". You had somewhere to be, so you moved past him and left him there. Cyprus didn't make a move or say anything else.

The week goes by like usual. Though, Cyprus is oddly "chattier".

"How's your head?" He would ask this on random days. You would always reply with a "fine" and a "thanks for asking", not wanting to waste his precious smoking time, you left him alone almost immediately.

You had a bad day at one point, you got yelled at by five different bosses, someone took credit for your contribution, you weren't invited to lunch and you were told to work overtime. Dragging yourself down the stairs with your head hung down low. You didn't look up to nod at the male leaning against the wall.

He cocked an eyebrow as he saw you sitting on one of the steps with a somber expression.

You asked him if you could have a stick too. Cyprus handed you one without a complaint. He fired his lighter and lit your cigarette between your fingers up.

It was obvious to him that it was your first time smoking. You immediately started hacking wildly as soon as the sharp, unkind fumes hit the back of your throat. This did not calm you down at all, what a scam. You thought it would lift the weight off your shoulders like how it was advertised in movies, it gave you more stress instead.

"Bad day?" He asked, with a new amused expression on his hunky face. You confirmed it, but not giving him any details.

You said that smoking sucks and it didn't help you, looking visibly upset and at the brink of tears. Asking if he could dispose of it for you. He gladly took it from your hands.

You walked away, grumbling incoherently as you tried thinking of other ways to relieve your stress for the day.

Cyprus snuffs his older cigarette out using the heel of his leather shoes. He brought yours to his lips and closed his eyes as he inhaled the newer smoke.

Days turned into weeks, into months. It just repeats every day, you would encounter him at the stairs, and sometimes he would say something more, or nothing at all. The only notable event that happened to both of you, is that you brought back a takeaway that you didn't like and bumped into him at the stairs. You were clear as to why you're giving him a box of food, you personally hated it but you couldn't let it go to waste. None of your 'friends' wanted them either.

Luckily, he is alright with it. He ate something other than his cancer stick that day for lunch. Cyprus thanked you for it and you went back up to your cubicle.

Come Valentine's Day, you're baffled as to who left you a bouquet of roses and a heart-shaped box of chocolates on your desk. It couldn't have been Cyprus, that's for sure. Because you come in earlier than he does.

You looked over to his cubicle to see that it's piled with Valentine's day gifts. But no Cyprus nor his belongings since it's still 8:45AM. You're more likely to catch him dead than acting enthusiastic to come to work.

Scratching your head, your admirer left a cryptic note that said:

"I like you and I want to get to know you more.

Meet me in parking lot 1-A at 5:30pm. I'll take you out for dinner.

-R."

Cyprus definitely doesn't start with an R. You tried thinking about the times where you interacted with coworkers with R as part of their initials. You may be amicable, yes, but you don't think you come off as flirty. It was all an act to not get eaten up by office politics.

God, you hope none of them had the wrong idea. You hope whoever this is, doesn't have a big influence over your boss. You're cooked if you do. Because you are not meeting them at all.

You shoved the gifts under the desk, removing all evidence of it before you attract the attention of your noisy colleagues. You were so distracted clearing your desk that you didn't realize Cyprus walked past your cubicle a bit closer than usual.

You're a bit frazzled over this. Worrying about the consequences of rejecting this mystery person, but fearing that you will be a victim of violence when you meet them at a secluded parking lot.

So you head to the break room to make yourself a drink. The room was empty, everyone was too busy fawning over their own gifts instead.

Except Cyprus, it seems.

He entered a moment later as you're filling up your cup with hot water.

"You got anything?" He asked. You whipped your head to him and saw that he was focused on fixing his own cup of coffee.

"For valentines. I mean." He leaned against the counter as he waited for the coffee machine to drip liquid caffeine into his mug.

You said yes. Roses and chocolates. You are trying to figure out who it is.

He looked taken aback. You don't know if he's surprised that you have admirers, or the fact that you look like you're being hunted.

You excused yourself with a stammer and scurried away, having your mind occupied with anxiety.

You barely paid attention to your work, dreading as the clock ticks by and inching closer and closer to 5:30PM.

When it reaches lunchtime, you climb down the stairs as usual.

"Bad day?" He asked, taking a drag out of his cigarette.

You said no. But before you could leave, he blocked your path.

"What's going on with you?" He asked, with a mild concern written on his face.

You said there is nothing wrong. You have to leave now for a galentines day lunch with your female coworkers. So you squeezed past him.

In the end, you decided not to go to the parking lot. Once you saw Cyprus leave the floor at 5pm sharp, you began packing up. Bringing your roses and chocolates with you.

However, you didn't go to the parking lot. You went straight home instead, wondering if you made the right choice.

The next morning, your coworkers were gathered in a crowd to discuss their new gossip material. You joined in, wanting to appear as a "team player" just like how the HR department wanted you to be.

"Yeah! That's so weird, do you think he was waiting for someone?"

"Must be, why else would Cyprus stay here till ten?"

You asked where they saw Cyprus.

One of them showed you a picture of him leaning against his deep blue sedan. A lit cigarette in his mouth while his hands were in his pockets. The floor was littered with cigarette butts. The photo was taken from a distance, they probably wouldn't want Cyprus to catch them in the act.

You examined the picture for any clues as to where he was located.

Your face pales as soon as you see the sign "1-A". So that was him.

He didn't come in today. Your manager said he had to take an emergency leave, so you're tasked with covering his workload.

You were gnawing on your fingernails. Feeling extremely guilty and afraid, you are not using the stairs anytime soon. You do not want to face the awkwardness.

It was his fault anyways. How the hell would you know there is an R in his name? He had multiple chances to tell you about it yesterday, yet he didn't.

But you're scared. You have no idea what this man is capable of and you value this job too much.

You refrained from going into the break room and the stairs. You would rather waste your time waiting for the elevator than to face Cyprus alone.

Only to find that he started smoking outside.

You stayed at your desk during lunch.

Only to find Cyprus doing the same now.

In the end, you found refuge in the women's bathroom. Camping there for the entire duration of your break.

He is actively trying to talk to you. But you always act like you have a bladder infection when he approaches you, urgently needed to use the toilet now.

You avoided eye contact with him and whenever you have to hand him a stack of papers, you would just drop them on his desk and rush back to your own.

That was embarrassing. Although you weren't the one being rejected, you felt crappy.

Even if he was upfront with his feelings for you, it was unlikely you would have agreed. Cyprus is too enigmatic, who knows what lies under his cool exterior? Plus, you don't like the smell of cigarette smoke.

This is crazy, you're constantly under pressure everyday. From Cyprus's silence on the matter and the fear of having your coworkers finding out about your 'relationship' with him over that one year.

You decided to head to a bar one night to drink your worries away.

It was nearly empty, save for a few patrons scattered around. You swore you saw a lot more people walk in when you got off the bus. Where did they all go?

Someone sat next to you, a stranger. A charming one too, bought you a drink. You smiled as you warily decided to chat with him.

The alcohol certainly helped to ease the jumpiness, you're calm and enjoying the time you're sharing with this man who you never met. He cracked jokes which you would laugh at and you would talk about your office woes to him in a drunken stupor.

The drinks kept coming, you were heavily intoxicated whereas he is completely sober. The man barely drank while you finished around seven glasses. The bartender didn't seem to care that you're too giggly and swaying side to side. Your speech is slurred as you let yourself relax.

The man paid his tab and rose up from the stool. He wrapped his arm around your waist and slung your arm around his shoulders. You told him that you wanted to stay here, but he didn't listen. You asked him multiple times where he was taking you, but the man didn't respond to it.

You're about to be lifted off your seat, until a fist travelling at lightning speed collides with the stranger's jaw. The impact made a sickening crack, followed by the clattering of loose teeth onto the wooden floors.

Some droplets of red got onto your cheeks and your office wear.

You sobered up a bit from the sudden attack, you were left unharmed but you couldn't say the same to your new friend.

A hulking figure was giving him the beatdown of his life, throwing powerful punches after powerful punches. The bar was thrown into chaos at the sudden act of violence, the screams, shouts and hollers were hurting your ears and head.

You threw yourself at his assailant, trying to get whoever is pummeling the man senseless to stop. He's not moving anymore! His blood pooled around his body and the two pairs of feet, including yours.

The bartender tried to break it up, this man was so full of rage, that nothing would stop him from taking out his anger on this stranger.

You cried, sobbing and begging him to stop. But he never listened, only after he was satisfied did he turn around to face you. His knuckles dripping with blood that isn't his, pecs that rose up and down as he breathed heavily. Adrenaline was still coursing through his bloodstreams, that is why his pupils were dilated within his steely grey eyes.

You were harshly tugged away by someone else. You looked behind you and it's the bartender, he brought you to safety as more people joined in the fight.

Maybe they wanted to avenge their friend, or they just wanted to beat him for bragging rights, or they could simply be drunk. Regardless, they were armed with chairs and broken bottles.

Cyprus dodged the first few blows and blocked the next ones. He grabbed an attacker by the arm and painfully twisted it, leaving him to scream and writhe on the ground. He blocked the strike from the wooden chair with an arm and punched another person square in the face, disfiguring their nose.

He delivered a devastating uppercut to one of the more erratic and violent patrons, swiping them off their feet using his leg before kicking them with enough force to push them far away.

One of them had the misfortune of tasting his deadly hook to the side of the face, knocking them out cold. Their limp body hits the floor with a deadening thud.

After that, no one dared to take him on. They're either keeping their distance or unconscious on the floor. He turned around and glowered at the bartender, who shrugged coolly and guided you to him.

Through your tears, you make out that familiar face of your quiet coworker. You were stunned with a million questions running through your head.

His massive hand grabbed you by the face, turning it left to right, examining if you endured any injury from the creep.

You were still under the influence, so you broke down crying and apologizing that you stood him up on Valentine's. You pleaded with him not to hurt you.

Cyprus supported an arm behind your back and under your knees, carrying you close to his chest as he fled the scene before he could get in trouble.

Your legs dangle as he carried you bridal style. The world is spinning and you could barely stay awake. This felt like a nightmare that you would have after pulling an all-nighter to finish a report.

But one thing that you kept your eyes on are his ears. You realized that you remembered seeing it somewhere online:

Seasoned boxers have cauliflower ears like Cyprus's

[newwavesylviaplath]

playlist recs (cuz i'm an influencer)

hiii! i was just thinking about how much i love making playlists but i have legitimately two irl friends and they don't give a shit abt my music taste so i wanted to make a cutesie little (kind of??) masterlist of all my fave playlists that ive made and like their general vibes <3

(p.s i'm super picky abt the songs i put in a playlist so they're all generally short)

⋆˚⋆✧⋆˚⋆｡ ｡⋆˚⋆✧⋆˚⋆｡ ｡⋆˚⋆✧⋆˚⋆｡ ｡⋆˚⋆✧⋆˚⋆｡ ｡⋆˚⋆✧⋆˚⋆｡⋆˚

for my morute girlies; very blood in snow/dirt stained babydoll dresses/stuffed animals with big sharp teeth

you should've known, you should've guessed

for my borderline yandere bitches; very love quinn from you/obsessed teenage girl/follow him around like a lost puppy

crazy stalker gf

for my zooey deschanel wannabes; very owns a typewriter/semi vegan/is a wes anderson diehard

does eyes, collared dresses, etc.

for my girlbloggers; very sylvia plath quotes on tumblr/heart aches when you think about your mother at your age/"obviously doctor, you've never been a 13 year old girl"

woman moment

for my babes with suspected narcolepsy; very 'protecting your peace'/ten step face care routine/patchouli oil in the humidifier

bed time routine

for my coquette bitches; very listens to unreleased lana on a spotify podcast/wears an excessive amount of lace/giggles instead of laughs

sweet kinda gal

for anyone who cries over spilled milk; very scared of aging/birthday playlist from a few years back/wellbutrin zoloft combo

march sadness/old woman

for the ones with kathleen hanna vocal fry; very resting bitch face/riot grrrl adjacent/too cool for you/wears bright colours ironically

it girl wannabe

for people who can't wait until october; very apple cinnamon bath and body works/tate and violet season/leg warmers over top of doc martens

iced pumpkin foam chai latte

for people who can't wait until december; very glee christmas specials/cute fluffy earmuffs/buying advent calendars when they go on sale right after the 24th

gingerbread houses

for all of newwavesylviaplath nation; very much camryncore/songs i listen to while i blog/my personal faves

teenage girl playlist

⋆˚⋆✧⋆˚⋆｡ ｡⋆˚⋆✧⋆˚⋆｡ ｡⋆˚⋆✧⋆˚⋆｡ ｡⋆˚⋆✧⋆˚⋆｡ ｡⋆˚⋆✧⋆˚⋆｡⋆˚

that's all! because i've been a bit of a flop recently i begged a bunch of people to let me tag them thanks yall: @fear-is-truth @cult-of-lambs @thebonesofwhatyoubelieve @dangeroustaintedflawed @yandereunsolved @taintandviolent @nahoyasboyfriend @elaine-in-the-membrane @slutforgarlogan @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @briaroftheroses @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @feefymo

[sturnlova]

Traumatised Brothers ( C.S )

(Chris Sturniolo x Female reader)

( Warning :Smut, M receiving, time skip, i really never know what to put here, new to writing, not proof read all the way)

Chris : Orange

Y/N : Pink

Matt : Blue

Nick : Purple

( Word count : 900 )

Y/N POV:

As i stood in the boys kitchen warming up donuts for us to all eat Matt screams out “YOU LIKE HER” Chris slapped his chest really hard as he turned red, Nick just yelled at matt to shut the fuck up.

I turned around with the donuts and asked “ the fuck are yall talking about” “NOTHING nothing Matt is just being an idiot.” Suspicious i thought to myself but ignored it as we continued watching the movie Scream.

As i bite into the donut the donut feel apart leaving icing on my bottom lip and some crumbs on my boobs. When i noticed i had made a mess i wiped it off hoping no one saw but Chris saw and he also had focus on my boobs but i didn’t really mind because it’s Chris. Like the Chris i’ve liked for ages.

Chris cleared his throat and stood up “sorry i’ll be back i don’t feel to well..” Matt and nick asked if he was okay and i just stood up and rubbed his shoulder asking if he needed anything.

Chris responded back with “ i’m fine don’t worry” and quickly hurried off to his room.

Time Skip

By now Chris had been gone for 10 minutes and i had to check up on him but i didn’t need Matt and Nick being there to because i know Chris gets embarrassed when he is seen as “weak” even though getting sick is nothing to be embarrassed about. Plus they would tease me about liking him since they knew i liked him for a bit too long.

“ I’ll be back i need to go to the bathroom, don’t worry about pausing the movie” “ Ok we weren’t playing on it anyway” Nick said giggling.

I walked my way to Chris’ room and was about to open the door until i heard whimpers coming from the other side, and my name..?

I opened the door to be seen with Chris lying down with his hand in his pants moving up and down, along with his eyes closed and mouth open. He hadn’t noticed me until i crawled onto the bed positioning myself between his legs.

“Y/N what the fuck i’m sorry, i didn’t even realise you were here and i- fuck you must think i’m so disgust-“ I cut Chris off by kissing him passionately and palming his dick and pushing his hand away.

“ Chris do you want me to help you?” “ please Y/N please i need your help”

I pulled down his pants in a slow fashion all the way down to his ankles.

I spit on his tip and started using my hands to move the spit up and down well i rubbed my thumb on the slit of his tip. I put my lips on his digits and started bobbing my head up and down well his hand was in my hair with a strong grip making a ponytail, all the force he used made me moan in a “ hurts but feels so good” way.

As he started twitching in my mouth i knew he was close so i started going faster “ FUCKK Y/N DONT STOP IM SO CLOSE” he continued screaming my name. I didn’t stop but i did start using my hands instead of my mouth for i could speak to him “ Chris your brothers gonna hear, do you even care that they hear you scream and beg for me to jerk you off? “ Chris just moaned and spoke under his breath with a string of curses as he got milked out.

He had some of his cum on his happy trail and on my hand. I licked the mess off his stomach and then lifted my top to expose my breasts and took his cum off my hands and rubbed it all over my boobs as a substitute for lotion.

When it was all over my boobs and off my hands, i pulled my top back on and put chris’ pants back on. “ Y/N that was the best handjob i’ve ever experienced thank you like truly thank you, do you want me to finger you?” usually i wouldn’t deny this offer but today it was just about him “ Chris it’s ok baby i just wanted you to feel good.”

“ Chris do you like, like me because i know i like you, i think i love you.” “ i like you to Y/N i think i love you too.” We talked about how we would take this forward and whats gonna happen since we will be going on a date tomorrow at the park, Chris knew i loved the park.

As i got Chris decent and walked out his room we were shown with an empty house and a note left on the kitchen counter like it was the olden days reading “ message us to come back when Chris is done moaning your name, if you couldn’t tell this is from his 2 traumatised brothers Matt and Nick.”

Chirs just looked at me and pointed at the note with a facial expression that looked like this “😐” i responded back with a giggle.

[nztsume]

• waiting for the big twenty-five •

homelander x you

{“Only one more year till the big 25. Aren’t you excited?”

This piqued at his curiosity. “What’s the big 25?”

“It’s when your brain finishes developing.”, you replied, remembering the information from back in the day, when you were still trying to get your Psychology’s degree. “Your frontal cortex- the one in charge of your personality and all- it stops growing at around 25 years old.}

Even if you’re just kind of a glorified baby-sitter, you just want to see him happy - instead, you accidentally make him worse.

read on ao3

------

Hi yall!!! The voices won and I finally ended up starting to write the young homelander fic of my dreams where we find out how he ended up being the deranged insecure insane man we know and love!!

In this one, you're Madelyn Stilwell's niece who works at Vought- and have striken an unexpected soft spot for the company’s latest investment- this insecure, shy but sweet young hero called Homelander.

Enjoy!

• 1 •

July, 2005

Every single day, at exactly 5.30 a.m., Homelander was to be awoken by the smell of coffee on his kitchen table. The coffee had to be fresh, beans grinded that same morning, no sugar, no milk, no exceptions. To accompany it, he was to have his pills: two of creatin– for muscle growth, three of protein- to feed them, a weight gainer– so he would stop being so lanky, and an extra dose of vitamin D, to fight those pesky pimples guys his age still got sometimes. All of them should be in a small container, so he could swallow them at once with his first gulp.

Next to his coffee and his pills, he was to have a folder with any relevant document for the day- interviewer’s questions and the answers he was to give, profiles of important people he would meet, scripts for any ad he was to film. All of that, including his schedule for the day- except that was to be read to him by you. This is how Maddie had told you it had to be done, and how you’d done it since day one.

You looked at your wrist watch, holding his coffee on your hand- piping hot, just how you knew he liked it-  and you yawned, watching the thinnest clock hand go round it, as the last minute before you could walk into his apartment went by. 

Finally, it was 5.25, and you could already walk in- so you did. 

You weren’t exactly his maid- he had several of those, but none of them were to do anything to his apartment whenever he was around. He wasn’t to have much contact with the normal civilians, the normies- as Maddie called them. You preferred to reserve your opinions at that- your aunt had changed a lot since she had started working here. 

What you were was Maddie’s secretary- and Maddie was Mr. Edgar’s secretary- or something. There was a fancier title for that, but you couldn’t recall it. All you knew was that she was aiming for vice-CEO or something, as it was the only thing she talked about whenever she dragged you to a bar after office hours, and insisted on drinking glass after glass of whisky.

As you finished setting things up, you appreciated the result- his cup of coffee, his pills, his documents and ah, a special surprise. One big, obscene chocolate cupcake, the kind where the chocolate topping is so rich that it spills and drips all over, with one beautiful strawberry on top, and next to it, one single candle. You weren’t sure if chocolate was his favorite, but you knew he had a bit of a sweet tooth- so he’d appreciate it, at least some. 

Finally, you took out your red lighter and lit the candle- and less than twenty seconds later, you looked up- and there he was. 

"Good morning, John.”, you put the lighter back on your blazer’s pocket, smiling at him. 

He blinked- eyes still not fully alert, as he scratched them. They were boring holes into the chocolate cupcake, and you couldn’t help to smirk a little- you knew he’d be interested in it. 

“Is that for me?”, he asked, surprised, almost like a child- and you laughed. Ever since you’d met him, about five or six months ago now, you’d felt like he was younger than his actual age- there was something about the way he stood in the middle of his own massive penthouse, like a kid lost in a big, elegant furniture showroom. Alone, quiet and shy, even when wearing his own super suit. It didn’t help that it was actually way too big for one person, with its tall, tall roofs, marble everything and sleek furniture- much less for an overworked twenty-something with no time for a social life.  

“Of course.”, you assured him. “It’s your birthday after all, right? Happy 24th!”

He pressed his lips awkwardly, trying to contain a smile- but that didn’t work, as he let out a laugh, and finally came to the kitchen island, almost a skip on his step. You couldn’t help to be glad- finally this kid was getting some happiness in him.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.”, you said, sarcastically, as he went to town on the cupcake, taking big bites out of it. He stopped for a second mid-bite, mouth full of chocolate, to look at you with a smile- and there was a gleeful glint in his eyes. Actually, that was enough of a thank for you. Anything that made that perpetual sadness that he always seemed to hold go away, even for just a few minutes, was worth it. You laughed at him. “Okay- just go for it. But don’t forget your pills!” 

“I can’t believe it- this tastes so good!”, he finally said, after taking another bite- in less than thirty seconds he had eaten half of it. Unbelievable! “Best birthday gift ever!”

“Oh- shush.”, you crossed your arms, leaning back against the counter, watching him take a big gulp of coffee. “Just wait until you see what Maddie has gotten you- it’ll blow your mind.”

“I don’t think it’ll be better than having chocolate as breakfast.”- he set the last bite of the cupcake aside, finally taking the pill container, and eyeing them with disgust. You sighed- perhaps if they let the kid eat his breakfast he wouldn’t need those nasty pills- it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to burn it off in the training center literally thirty minutes later. You didn’t know much about supe genetics, but they couldn’t be too different from normal people’s, right?

You yawned again, this time covering your mouth to the side, as you let him have the rest of the cupcake and his coffee. You liked to give him some minutes of silence so he could enjoy it properly- you knew that that’s how you liked it when you had yours.

This morning in particular, you just wished you had gotten to drink your coffee alone- but your fiance was just arriving from a shift at the E.R., and you had to deal with his graphic description of a dick that had been cut in half by a broken wine glass. You were still trying to forget about it. At least you lived close enough to Vought- just a ten minute subway trip away - so you didn’t have to wake up much earlier than that. It was just lucky you knew how to do your make-up on the move, another time-saving skill you’d learnt in your college years. 

You heard him drinking the last of his coffee- doing that big slurp noise he always did, and you finally decided to take the document with his schedule- ready to tell him about his day. 

He was tired -he always was, but today he seemed particularly so, even behind the hint of a smile the cupcake had left him with. You could tell by his posture under those cheesy button up burgundy silk pajamas, shoulders too slumped, hips rested against the counter. You weren’t surprised- according to Maddie, ever since they’d debuted him close to two years ago to the public, he’d been worked non-stop. It was only time until he broke, you thought- but you could never say it to her. Your aunt had always been too good at pushing people further than they could reach, and too good at seeing only ahead of her; John was just another one of her subjects. 

“Alright”, you finally said, seeing the subtle move of his shoulders straightening at your voice, “Ready to hear about your day, birthday boy?”

He groaned in response, the hint of his smile completely being wiped away, “I guess…”

You pressed a smile for him, but mentally frowned reading over his schedule- he was packed, of course. “What’s that? Not excited about being 24?”, they’d even put an interview right after his birthday celebration- his 1 hour long birthday celebration. They as in Maddie and Mr. Edgar. “Only one more year till the big 25. Aren’t you excited?”

This piqued at his curiosity. “What’s the big 25?”

“It’s when your brain finishes developing.”, you replied, remembering the information from back in the day, when you were still trying to get your Psychology’s degree. “Your frontal cortex- the one in charge of your personality and all- it stops growing at around 25 years old. So you get only one more year of acting like a dumbass without people holding it against you.”, you added that last one joke to make him laugh- it worked. He wasn’t used to people throwing curse words around him. “Congrats!” 

“Just one more year, huh?”, he said, more seriously than you expected. “That’s kind of sad.”

“No way- it’s great.” you shook your head, “After 25… it’s like your brain rewires. You’re not embarrassed anymore, you get some self-esteem back from when you were a kid.”, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, remembering how stupidly shy you were back when you were his age. It wasn’t that long ago, really, just four years- but it felt like another lifetime, somehow. “10 out of 10, if you ask me. Anyway–”, you gave one more sigh, before turning your attention back to him, “Let me tell you about your day. So- it officially starts at 9.10 where you- oh. I didn’t know this. You’re getting a new suit!”

His eyebrows rose, “I thought that wasn’t until September.” 

“Hmm, maybe they wanted to launch it at today’s park inauguration for your birthday- which is at around 11.30, by the way. So you get your suit fitted and all, then it’s an one hour drive, and then the inauguration. After that, lunch, and after…”, she frowned. “You have to have tea with- with Margaret Pataki and her friends ...?” , no way they were making the kid spend his birthday with a bunch of rich old ladies that wanted to get in his pants. You couldn’t believe Maddie. What in the world could have they offered your aunt to get the privilege of The Homelander’ s time on his birthday? Unbelievable.  You huffed. “Well… too bad you have your weekly marketing meeting. You’ll have to miss it.”

“I thought that wasn’t until Thursday.”, he frowned, but there was a hint of relief behind his confusion. 

“It’s not-”, you shot a look at him, “But you should get to rest for a couple hours on your birthday, don’t ya?”, you winked at him- and then moved on, before he could protest any further. Better not to think about it too much, or you’d get extremely mad at your aunt. “And then… your birthday celebration!”

“You’re coming, right?”

You looked up from the paper, surprised at his sudden intensity as he cut you off. You found those crystal blue eyes boring at you- like you were another cupcake, expectating of your reply.

“ ‘Course.”, you simply smiled- surprisingly secretly pleased. You liked him- he was a nice guy, behind all the pizzazz that Vought put him through in front of the cameras. Perhaps too nice, in your opinion- there was some trauma somewhere in there, you could tell. But you didn’t weren’t close enough to him to recommend therapy or something, although you had suggested it to Maddie… who obviously shrieked at the thought of their golden child going to the shrink. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Johnny.” 

“Thank god-”, he sighed, rolling his eyes in sass, “If I have to deal with Stan or Madelyn or any of the other old farts there by myself, I’ll laser my own foot.” 

This made you laugh. It always surprised you whenever he showed a bit of bite, as it seemed like whenever he was with Maddie or Edgar, he seemed like the best behaved pupil in the boarding school- and whenever he was in front of the public, he was an absolute boy-scout. “Oh- come on. I’m sure Noir’s gonna be there too. I’m not your only friend here, you know?” She hoped so, at least. John seemed to like Black Noir, although his presence in the Vought building was far and apart, since they hadn’t officially re-debuted him under the company’s name yet.

He shot you one last skeptical look before taking the folder with the rest of the documents- this was your dismissal, and you took it. It was ten to six, and he had to be in the training center soon. 

“Anyway- I’ll take my leave. Maddie’s probably sent me my tasks for the day already.”, you heard a low distracted hum coming from him, already walking to the door. Before you left, you peeked at him one last time, before saying: “Happy birthday.”

He looked up just as you waved, and there was a hint of a smile in his face- good. You smiled back, and finally, slammed the door closed.

 

-

 

When you worked at Vought- more specifically, in their superhero division, every single day felt like standing in the middle of the sea during a storm- wave after wave of issues and tasks coming at you, suffocating you at times. Truth be told, you weren’t supposed to be working there- you were far too unqualified, both emotionally and academically. 

When your aunt Maddie had found out about your mother’s disease, she, of course, had refused to help her. She had always been resentful at how resentful your mom had been of her, at how she had chosen a professional life path while your mom chose to have you at just seventeen, dropping out of school to form a family. Just your average sisters’ feud, splashed with just a bit of new wave feminism and abandonment issues. However, knowing you had dropped out of college, Maddie was kind enough to offer you a job in her workplace- none other than Vought Enterprises. Big shot shit. 

She had told you that she wouldn’t make any promises, she wouldn’t work with you, and she wouldn’t slide you in with the big supes, where she worked. She had hustled her ass off to be where she was- she wouldn’t let your wormy little self run on the path she had so laboriously paved. You were okay with that- any corporation job would pay more than what you were doing in the dingy bar downtown where you’d been working since you dropped off college. Besides, you knew your aunt had never been all there- the love-hate she always showed you wasn’t personal, it was just a thing she did.

It didn’t help that you weren’t even more than seven years younger than her, so a lot of your childhood memories involved playing with her teen self. She was more a cousin than an aunt, to be fair. So there were a lot of things you could easily let slide- her insane mood swings was one of them. You knew she meant well- behind all of her power plays and degradation.

Either way, that didn’t end up happening- you working for a less important division, like pharmacy. As soon as she suggested Mr. Edgar to give you a job he was into the idea- he liked to keep things between family. And in hindsight, it was understandable. The things that happened behind the scenes for supes weren’t half as glamorous or exciting as they seemed to be on camera.

This morning had been particularly busy, the waves of work slowly turning into a tsunami, as Homelander’s birthday was a top priority for the entire department. He was the star, after all- had been for almost three years now. He was Vought’s face and voice, their personality. The bright eyed, all-american, charming, strongest to ever exist superhero. America turned into the shape of a man. Everything they’d ever dreamed, they were training into this twenty-something-year-old. Any excuse to celebrate him was good enough for them- because it was as if they were celebrating Vought itself.

That’s why you’d been running all over New York the entire morning. The tailor had managed to mismeasure John’s shoulders, somehow, and they needed two more of the handmade eagle feather golden shapes that went… well, you didn’t know where they went. You had only gotten the gist of it, along with a brown envelope to take to the goldsmith- any goldsmith that would get them done before 11.30 a.m., when Homelander was supposed to debut his new suit to the world, to mark a new era or something.

Luckily, it was 11 sharp as you ran through Vought’s main hall’s doors, and 11.04 as you knocked the costume division’s door on the 45th floor. You were breathless, knowing that he had to be on the other side of the city, to Fort Lee in less than half an hour- although seeing how tight they were, he was probably going to fly to the inauguration. The city council had granted him his very own children’s park after he’d saved a school bus from sinking into the Hudson a month ago, and they had chosen to inaugurate it the very day of his birthday. As if he had nothing else to do on that day.

Maddie opened the door, blonde waves all over the place, breath ragged. You knew the signs, she had been yelling at someone- and you were lucky it wasn’t you. You saw a flash of dark blue somewhere in the background and you knew it was John- and your curiosity was piqued. Would the new suit be too different? At least it seemed they’d keep his colors. 

“Where are they?”, your aunt demanded.

Wordlessly, you took out a fancy necklace case out of the bag you were holding, “I had to find a different place- our goldsmith was taking too long to decide whether he could do them or in time or not.”, you explained, as she snatched it off your hands and opened to inspect them. While she did that, you subtly went on your tippy-toes, trying to catch the new suit without her knowing. “I think they look just like the mold-so…” 

“Perfect.”, she concluded, slamming it closed, and she took one look at you, with those severe eyes of hers. “Go to the 72th. They need help with the party.” 

After that, she slammed the door on your face. Oh well- you’d see it later, hopefully. 

 

—

 

The 72th was a mess- as it always was, since it was the floor where most Vought only parties were held, the ones no outsiders should know about. Before, you would have thought that that meant something sexual- perhaps some sort of massive over the top superhero and congressmen orgy, the kind conspiracy theorists would talk about- but soon you found out it was not the case. Rather- it was the kind of party where millionaires would get drunk and discuss whether bombing another South Asian country would make them profits or not. You didn’t know which of the two types of parties were worse.

This time, though, at least the purpose of the preparations was much more innocent- just a small party for every person in Homelander’s life to celebrate him and his birthday. It was kind of impressive so many people showed up, in your opinion. It was the 4th of July, after all- most everyone would choose to celebrate it with their families at the park- or even just watch the fireworks from their TV at home. Instead, about twenty or more people were there, running around with you- decorating, inflating balloons, making every cookie in the dish look beautiful and photogenic. All for him- everyone wanted him to be pleased. You were sure that as long as he was allowed to eat enough of them, he’d be just as happy. 

One thing you ended up noticing about the attendees was the variety, or more like, the lack of thereof. Most people there were some of Vought’s scientists, the ones you only knew of by their pictures on the Vought’s Best wall. You wondered what they had to do with Homelander, or if they were there just for protocol. Maybe these were the kind of people Edgar wanted him to surround himself with. Important people- people who did good for humanity. 

And no, no Black Noir to be found.

Interestingly enough, even they were helping with the organization. Perhaps they were close, you wouldn’t know. You didn’t know much about John’s past aside from what you’d figured out by yourself- and what the public knew. 

Either way, he was about to arrive, and you were to get Maddie’s gift ready for him. The box was a bit too big for it- but it needed the space, you guessed. You just wondered if the box was necessary at all. 

Somebody heard the elevator sound starting to ding up- and began shushing everyone, as they started crowding around the room, hiding the big table with the cake and different foods that they had set up in the middle of the room behind them. You, of course, didn’t want to steal any spotlight from someone who could actually be important to him, so you placed yourself to the side, excited for him to arrive. You knew he was going to love this; he loved attention- even affection, as much as he tried to hide it.

The elevator finally dinged on their floor, and the doors opened, and-...

“Happy birthday!”, everyone shouted- only for Maddie to come out, her heels clicking as she saw on her that particular face she made when she scolded someone- her words drowned by their scream. Everyone made a confused noise- wasn’t it supposed to be…?

Then- a massive spot of blue walked in- a young man with wide shoulders, an unhesitant stroll and perfectly coiffed blonde hair- clad in an imposing red and blue suit. Homelander.

You began singing Happy Birthday- loudly, completely drowning everyone’s confusion and whatever Maddie was nagging the young supe about- and everyone was super quick to join. And you had the pleasure to see John’s face go from a slight frown to a bright expression- as everyone sang for him- claps and even stomps to go with it. 

But… there was something off in his smile as he started recognizing the faces around him. You saw his eyes go through every person in the room with a strange restraint- like he was holding back something. Then- they fell on you, and they stayed there, somehow, it seemed that it made that off feeling fade off. You clapped and sang more excitedly.

“Happy birthday, dear… John-Homelan-Johnny !”, everyone laughed, as nobody quite knew how to address him, “Happy birthday to you!” 

You saw him laugh- eyes looking around in surprise at the decorations. Everything was red, white and blue- with lots of golden details, that had been your touch. They were the expensive kind, but anyone could tell they weren’t set by professionals. You thought it added a homey touch that he’d enjoy- and he did, as he quite didn’t know what to do with himself, with his hands, as everyone clapped and whistled for him. 

“Oh-!”, he finally said, “Thank you- thank you, guys!”, he was trying to play it cool, calming them awkwardly. 

After that, the short event officially started. The attendees started mingling amongst each other, coming up in groups at times to talk to John, who seemed more interested on whatever was going on on the food table. You had caught him eyeing it from time to time whenever he was left alone for a second or two, as if he was deciding whether he could have a treat or not .

Meanwhile, you were busy guarding Maddie’s gift- which was secretly the only reason you were here at all. Not by your own volition, of course- you’d obviously come to John’s party if it was up to you. But… somehow, you felt that without your aunt’s express invitation it would have created problems for you. Sometimes it felt like Maddie got insanely possessive of the kid- as if anyone could come and snatch him away from under her management and steal her progress doing that. You didn’t quite know- all you really knew is that whenever you made a small observation, offered a small detail you’d noticed about him, she responded incredibly bad.

It wasn’t too bad, though. At least you were saving yourself from awkward conversations with strangers- plus, sometimes John caught your eyes and smiled at you. He had even tried to make his way to you a couple times, always interrupted by a new group of people who called for his attention.

He looked good in his new suit, you had to admit. A far cry from the leotardish one-piece he had before- that only worked to accentuate his still teensy physique, still too skinny and lanky for what he was supposed to be Edgar’s final vision of him- this new suit was magnificent. It looked like it was a two piece, for once- which he was probably thankful for- held by a strong golden (gold?) belt, and a high collar, covering just enough of his neck to draw attention to the slight v line it formed. He had some padding, she knew that- but it was just enough, not to transform his actual size, but to accentuate it. He looked more mature, more secure in his skin, and it showed - even if just a little bit.

Either way, you could hear her gift getting more and more agitated by the minute- so it was a relief when you heard her voice loud, commanding everyone’s attention.

“Let’s open your gifts, John.” Maddie said, coming up from behind and slapping a hand on his shoulder, making him jump a little. 

The party moved to the gifts table, where a small pile laid. You dutifully took the box you’d been guarding on the corner of the room and started walking it by it with a bit of difficulty, mostly because it kept moving all over the surface- but also because it was making your nose itch.

By the time you had gotten there, John had already started opening some of his gifts. Someone got him an insanely expensive wine you knew he wasn’t even going to try, and someone else a piece of pottery. It was hard to make someone like him a gift- what could you even get someone who could have anything? Not that John ever asked for anything, though. But he could- and everyone was aware of that. Vought made sure they were.

As soon as Maddie saw you with the box, she took it from your hands and walked up to him- and the second he turned to it, his face illuminated. 

“A dog?!”, he took it from her almost immediately, sitting on the floor with it on his lap- hands fighting to open the wrapping as soon as he was settled. 

“Oh John!”, Maddie scoffed, annoyed, “You spoiled it for everyone else!”

He didn’t seem to hear her though- entranced on the unwrapping, and you couldn’t help to hold your hands together on your chest, excited with anticipation. You were sure he was going to love it.

And as soon as the little guy jumped from inside the box- you know he did.

“Oh, lord!”, he exclaimed, as the small dog started barking and twisting in his grasp- as excited to see him as he was, its tiny tail wagging so hard it was moving its entire little body with it. “Oh, my god!”

The dog, a small Jack Russel with a big, brown spot over one of his eyes, barked excitedly, and you were sure you could see John’s eyes shining with tears, sat on the floor while everyone else aww’d at them. You could tell that- for once- he had forgotten about the people around him, as he let the puppy jump on his legs, on his chest, licking his face, sat back on his hands, as if he was stopping himself from squeezing the little thing. He was happy, so happy , and the dog was too.

“I can’t believe it!”, he gasped, again, as he finally decided he needed to pet it, getting rid of the thick gloves that his new suit had, grabbing it with both hands. The puppy barked at him, tongue out, and a laugh escaped from his mouth. “You’re the cutest thing I’ve seen in my life !”

The puppy wriggled its way out of his grasp, and jumped at his face again, licking him- and everyone aww’d once again and clapped. You finally unglued your eyes from the adorable scene to your aunt- and she looked incredibly pleased with herself. You would be too, this was probably the first time you’ve seen him actively elated.

Suddenly, she was startled by something- and you saw her hand going to her blazer’s pocket, picking her cellphone in a second. As she walked away with it, you took a step closer to him- and he turned to you.

“Did you know about this!?”, he asked, incredulous, fighting against the dog’s excited licks, “I can’t believe it!”

You couldn’t help the smile on your lips as you saw him. “Obviously. I went to pick him with her!” you crossed your arms over your chest- still remembering the horrors of the testing lab you’d gone get the poor dog from. It had been a month ago, and the dog had stayed with Maddie until now, “He was not the youngest puppy in the uh- adoption center but…”

“Shush, he’s perfect.”, he interrupted you, holding it to his chest, and turning to you, “What’s his name?”

“I’m not sure actually-”, you turned towards where your aunt had left- and you saw her smiling into the phone, a small skip on her step- and you knew that body language. She was sucking up to someone on the other end of the line. “We could ask Maddie if she named him when she comes back.”

But as you said that, Maddie actually came back- almost running in the short steps her heels allowed.

“Let's get this over with”, she whispered to you, as she walked by you taking over the center of the small round that Had formed around him, “Hey, everyone! Let's cut the cake!”

Everyone agreed happily- but you frowned, running to follow her as she went to the food table, already starting to make space for it. You knew that this was supposed to come at the end of the party, but not even half an hour had gone by yet- what was she doing?

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw John's eyes shoot from you to her to Edgar, as he as well tried to figure out what was going on.

“Maddie-”

“Seems like his birthday interview got delayed a couple hours”, she whispered to you excitedly, almost like a secret, “Guess who'll get to make up for his fatal mistake of not seeing Mrs. Pataki and her friends!”

A sense of disgust immediately took over your stomach, as you realized why she was so happy. She was making John spend time with those women after all- she was going to get him to butter them up for Vought On his own fucking birthday. 

“Go help with the cake.”

You felt sick.

Behind you, you heard John approach and Madelyn’s arm immediately shoot to get a hold of his forearm and guide him to the center of the table, the dog still in his arms.

Suddenly, a lot of things started happening simultaneously. Edgar was on the scene now, - a cameraman that you’d seen wandering about the event next to him - finally caring about this party at all, as he seemed to be giving him directions about how to encapsulate the happy event. 

Maddie, on the other hand, stood next to Homelander- whose eyes seemed far, as he heard whatever she was telling him, his lips pressing in some sort of emotion you didn’t have time to figure out, eyes looking far away from the scene unfolding. You got closer, as you started fixing the cake decorations, and got to hear some of it.

“And you'll show off your fucking new suit and tell her ‘ You like it, Margie?’ like she's the woman of your dreams, okay? She needs to go home and tell Pataki that Vought's doing great things while she considers divorcing his ass. You need to make up for the time you made her lose, John.” she was instructing right next to his ear, and he seemed more out of it by the second, “You'll be so fucking sorry to her she won't doubt for a second that you made a honest mistake with your schedule.” 

People started gathering as well- their loud chatter surrounding them like a massive beehive, buzzing so close to the table it was even starting to make you dizzy and desperate, as you fought to make one of the star decorations stay up. One of the scientists came up to you with a lighter, offering to turn the single candle on and you nodded, mindlessly as your focus kept shifting to him, and the way his gaze dissociated more and more- and you were actually worried now. You’d never seen him like this, not this badly. 

“Homelander!”, Edgar called, his serious nasal voice adding a new layer to the buzz, just like the scientist's lighter he couldn't get lit on. “Move one step to the left and turn a little, the lighting's bad there!”

“Seriously - apologize like a fucking dog, you hear?”

“Fuck”, you cursed under your breath- snatching the lighter yourself and trying- getting to turn on.

The camera started snapping- and it added another layer. A group laughed loudly in the background. Edgar kept giving needless instruction. The dog started wriggling, running out of his grasp. Madelyn kept barking into his ear.

“You'll lick her feet- and…”

And you could almost hear it before it happened. 

“Madelyn, I fucking GET it !”

The loud high sound- the sound his lasers made.

The crowd gasped, shocked- but more importantly, the dog started fucking screaming in pain.

“Oh- no!”

Someone screamed- and all hell broke loose. John ran from the table to the side- where his laser had left a dark, charred line that ended with… with the poor puppy laying on the floor, bleeding and crying. You ran after him.

“Oh no- no, no, no, no…”, he was on his knees, and you fell next to him as he whispered the words to himself, holding the poor thing as it wriggled, its loud shrieks vibrating in your ears. His hands were starting to get covered in blood, and its fur was so bloody- flesh so mangled you couldn't make sense of any of it. “No- please !”

You were speechless, shocked, and the blood was draining from your face by the second. “It was an accident!”, you were immediate to comfort him, but his eyes were glued to the animal- unable to think, to do anything, “It was an accident, John, and-and…”

You looked around- but nobody thought like you- nobody else was stepping up to comfort him. Instead, everyone stared in… fright , taking fearful steps away from the scene like he was a monster- and that made you so insanely mad.

“I-I killed him!”, he exclaimed in horror. “Oh, God, I fucking killed him!”

“ No, you didn't! ”, your hands went to his shoulders, shaking him a little as his eyes filled up with tears- and your heart was going a mile a minute, “He's crying ! He's still alive!”

“N-no, no, I-”

“John!”, Maddie’s voice shouted- and you looked up to see her walking to you, angry, as she got out of her shock, “What the hell was that?! Are you insane?! Are you retarded ?!”

He turned slightly to her, eyes full of tears and remorse and pain- and you couldn't take it anymore.

You stood up like a spring and took a step between them.

“Madelyn!”, you looked at her in the eyes, heart still drumming, “ Are you fucking serious?!”

You saw her eyes widen and her mouth fall open.

She started sputtering your name, visibly shaken. You'd never ever had spoken like this to her. She was always the one that was right, the one whose decisions just weren't questioned.

“Y-you stay out of this!”, she finally managed, and tried to push you to the side- but you slapped her hand away.

“No, I won't! Not this fucking time, Aunt Maddie.” you stood your ground, stomping a foot.

There was a rage in you burning- and you instantly realized this wasn't just about this, right now. This was a rage that had been slowly burning- building up these last six months as you'd witnessed how they treated this kid, how they exploited every single second of his time. How tight his leash was. How simply sad and alone he looked all the time.

It had been burning since your mother had been diagnosed with that heart condition- and how ironically heartless her sister had been to her. How she'd offered you the job the same way someone offers leftovers to a starving stray dog, and how you had to swallow your dignity and take them.

It had been burning, you'd even say, after the first day Maddie had started this fucking job, and how she blew you off when you went to her apartment with a cake you'd made her to celebrate it- saying she had coworkers over and she couldn't deal with a child like you here, too, as if they were too important for you to even see them.

She growled your name one last time, “You're about to lose your job.”

“Then fucking do it, Maddie.”, you hissed back, feeling venom in your voice, “Fire me. Fire me! Who wants to work in a company that depends on how much they can exploit some twenty-year-old, anyway? Oh, but the second he makes one mistake you all look at him like he's a monster, right?!”

You couldn't help to turn around, including everyone in your rant now- every single person that was important in John’s life, who was looking at him like he was going to laser them next. Him, who was still holding onto the crying puppy, hands drenched in his blood.

“Don't look at him like that! God- look at him ! He didn't do it on purpose! You all pushed him to do it!”

You felt frustration building in you- as your eyes started to burn as well, angry. No, you couldn't let yourself cry, you needed to speak up!

You saw Maddie about to say something else when someone took a step forward- Mr. Edgar.

“Okay, okay everyone…” he had his hands raised up, voice infuriatingly calming and imposing. “Let’s calm down. You-”, he pointed at a random woman, who jumped at his calling, “Take the dog to the fifteenth, there must be a vet somewhere there.”

The woman quickly stepped forward- a middle aged with a messy bun hanging off of her head- arms in front of her, ready to take the still wailing dog from John while putting the most distance from him she could. Your eyes followed the movement as he extended the creature to her- his hands still shaking. For some reason, as this happened, you felt absolutely insane- like you were some schizoid character In a movie, and everyone else was just watching your crazy rants unfold. 

“And you- miss… Stilwell?”, he continued, turning to you- and as you shook your head (you didn't share your aunt’s last name, thank you ), he held a hand up, like he didn't actually care about that, “Why don't you take Homelander here home? He's still a bit shaken.”

And you're the only one here not afraid of his lasers, seemed to be the tacit rest of his request. 

At that, you stood straighter, facing him as a bitter bile pooled in your throat - desperate to keep jawing off about all you've been keeping, seeing these last months, about every single thing that they'd knowingly been doing to him- but you held back for him. Edgar was right, he needed to get away from this,  he needed some peace- and perhaps not to have to spend his birthday with some old lady who would be pawing at him all night. 

You swallowed it and nodded at him, chest still out and shoulders squared, like you were a shield and shot one last look at Maddie.

She was boring holes into you- mouth in a thin line, dark blue eyes unblinking in anger, hands fisted to her sides. You knew that look, your mother had been the end of it one too many times. But unlike her, you did not relent- and Maddie should better get used to it.

Then, you simply turned, falling to a kneel once again, as you grabbed his shoulder. His eyes were on you as well, those clear blue eyes, still watery, still shaking. His hands were drenched in blood, as was the rest of his new suit- he looked so small in that moment, so scared.

“John?”, you let your voice fall into a soft tone. At your call, his eyes tuned into an emotion you couldn't quite decipher- aside from intense gratefulness, “Let’s go home.”

[themotherofblood]

Can I request a Daemyra X daughter reader. Readers really quiet and barely talks to anyone even her parents. So Daemon and Rhaenyra are suprised when she comes to them all hot and bothered babbling about sex and such. And she tells them she was reading in the library and found a book about masturbation or something and she tried to do it but it didn’t work.

Breastfeeding and of course mommy/daddy kink

heheh this one is so filthy, YALL did not hold back!! Just by description whoever is reading; you already know it’s taboo as fuck, I will post individual warnings under here. Istg if I get one single ask saying you are so disgusting. I going to wish you eternal diarrhea for life 🤍

Masterlist

Dark!Daemyra Targaryen x Daughter!Reader

major tw: incest! infantilism, lactation kink/breastfeeding. major mdlg/ddlg vibes. lots of clit play (LIKE A LOT) squirting, kinda dubcon-ish, age gap and purity culture and aftercare because I’m not a monster

If this isn't your cup of tea, I have others, do not come at me :)

Rhaenyra had sat the court in her own chambers with her husband, Daemon looked behind her chair as they converted with their vassal lords at Dragonstone of politics and economical benefits and more mundane businesses of fixing toeholds and inkeeps. Their children undoubtedly had all been out dragon riding, all expect one. They were sure she was hidden somewhere deep in the libraries of Dragonstone.

You were one of true beauty, fathered by Daemon on some tavern wench; when he found out about your existence he had brought you back to Dragonstone as a babe after you had been legitimized by Viserys. A quiet mouse in the claws of dragons, a mere girl of eight and ten. You never said much or spoke over a whisper, an angel child with silver whisps of the Targaryen family. Rhaenyra had always been taken with you; her own children ran such a muck in her household that having one that sat still for hours at an end was a blessing by the gods.

“The Queen Alicent hopes to find a match for Lady Y/N,” The maester said hesitantly as he placed the parchment by Rhaenyra.

“Oh fuck that, she isn’t going anywhere.” Daemon barked.

Rhaenyra considered the possibility, you were old enough to be wed and yet she feared that your quiet demeanour would be squandered under the weight of a loveless marriage; Daemon was right, you could remain here where both Daemon and she could protect you. Such a sweet thing out in the world, it was cruel. The council dispersed as Rhaenyra lounged with a warm cloth on her swollen breasts, milk making them sore as baby Viserys had already been fed.

Then in walked Septa Marlow, her veiled face that remained pinched as always and her unkindly eyes looking furious as you- their sweet daughter followed behind with your eyes fixated on the ground.

“Your grace, your grace,” She offered her courtesies to both Rhaenyra and Daemon. It wasn't unusual for her to complain about the princess’s children. However your guilt-ridden face was a rare occurrence.

“What has happened?” Rhaenyra asked, looking to her teary eyed daughter.

“I had found the princess in the library reading- reading filth!” Septa Marlow hissed “Enganging in sin!”

“What sin?” Daemon perked up, rounding the table to lean against it

“Must- must I elaborate my prince?” Septa Marlow grew uncomfortable, fumbling to find words.

“You come in here, accusing my daughter of something. Speak it plainly then.” Daemon said, unimpressed at the the Septa’s chaste words

“She- she was coupling with herself.” Marlow looked as though she was ready to grace the gods. Rhaenyra’s eyes shot to you, tears of shame fell past your eyes as they remained fixated on the stone floor. You refused to look at your parents.

“Thank you for your report, leave us,” Rhaenyra commanded. The septa took her leave, closing the door behind her with a thud.

There was thick silence that followed, leaving the room in a delicate situation.

“Y/N, look at me.” Rhaenyra said, shuffling further into her seat. “What do you have to say for yourself.”

“I- I was looking for newer books,” You began stammering, your voice, as usual, was barely over a whisper “I couldn’t help it, I felt warm and the book said- I am sorry mother, I am sorry.” Your bottom lip wobbled as guilty tears coated your face.

Daemon’s eyes softened, looking at his little girl sobbing for apologies as if you had stolen candy, such a good girl and the poor thing had not a clue of why you felt what you felt. Daemon pointed to the vacant chair next to Rhaenyra for you to sit. You sniffled, still refusing to look at Daemon as you sat on the chair.

“You are growing sweet girl, it is only natural you feel such urges,” Rhaenyra cooed as she tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. Daemon knelt down to match your height, wiping at the tears coating your reddened cheeks

“No one shall punish my zaldrititos,” He said in attempt to stop your silent cries, you kept shuffling in your seat; yanking at your skirts and yet the fear- more so the discomfort from your face just wouldn’t fade “What is it, sweet girl?”

“I-it hurts,” You whispered as your eyes closed in shame again.

“What hurts?” Daemon asked once more, looking over your body to find any visible mark, if that hag of a Septa laid a punishment on you without him knowing; Caraxes was sure to have a fine meal for supper tonight.

“My- my...” You shuffled more, pulling at the skirts around your crotch, it was only then it dawned on Daemon before he looked back to his wife. His heart filled with fire for the girl’s frustrations.

“You didn't peak, did you zaldritos?” He said with adoration in his voice as he caressed your cheek. She looked up at him, teary-eyed and confused “That warmth in your belly like a sneeze stuck in your nose?” He watched as your eyes pondered his explanation before you shook her head.

Rhaenyra tutted behind him, “Oh, you poor thing.” She got up, offering his daughter her hand. You followed Rhaenyra as you were led into their bed chambers. She helped you onto their martial bed, your feet dangling of the edge as you fiddles with your fingers.

“Won’t you show us where it hurts?” Rhaenyra urged.

Daemon nearly felt his cock twitch in his breeches as his wife coaxed his daughter to rest against a mount of pillows. Daemon cleared his throat as he walked to the bed. His daughter’s eyes were nervously darting between him and Rhaenyra; your breath quickening as Rhaenyra pushed your pretty white sandals off.

“Good girl, just let mother take care of you,” Rhaenyra said in a sing song voice, she pushed your legs to the side; making you lift your hips to the bunch your skirts by your hip. Tears of embarrassment began to pour from your eyes yet again.

“Oh- that old hag didn’t even let you put your small clothes on,” Daemon shook his head, breath hitching as he looked right at the glistening mess in between your legs; he moved to kneel right by you as he urged Rhaenyra’s to console their daughter. “That does look painful.” He tutted.

Your pink bloom shielded by a dainty mound of white wisps, groomed to perfection to be a proper lady. He let a finger trail around your outer folds making you shudder. “Show kepa how you touched yourself.” He said stroking your inner thighs.

You nodded in disagreement, trying to hide your face at the crook of Rhaenyra’s neck as you sat flush between his wife’s legs.

“How are we to help you if you won’t show us sweet girl,” Rhaenyra kissed your temple as she guided your hands to your folds. “Be a good girl, show us.” Your dainty fingers began to hesitantly rub at her glistening petals.

You nearly wanted to be swallowed whole as you averted your gaze away from your kepa, small mewls and whimpers pouring from your lips that set both Rhaenyra and Daemon’s blood on fire. The frustration in their daughter's eyes grew further as your hips began to grind against your hand, a fruitless effort at best as your nimble fingers grew tired. He watched as her bottom lip wobbled again as angry tears began to flood at your eyes.

Daemon stopped your hand, his much larger one engulfing yours, fine little princess had not a clue about eliciting pleasures from one’s body.

“There is something wrong with me,” You whimpered to which Rhaenyra immediately differed.

“There is nothing wrong with our little girl, you just require a demonstration,” She cooed, reaching forward to wipe your tears. “Watch your father, he shall make it all better.”

Daemon made you stick two fingers out, your pointer and middle and gently placed them above where you had been caressing. You were confused until he pushed down on your fingers making you gasp, that’s where it was- the aching throb that bother you for hours as you read that God-forsaken book. Daemon smirked at your reaction as Rhaenyra placed more kisses at the side of your face

“Now gently begin again, darling.” Rhaenyra whispered in your ear.

“Yes, mommy,” You replied, much like as she taught you to write when you were little or took you dragon riding.

You began to rub the right circle above the please-inducing flesh, following the slow motions your father guided above your hands. Your toes curled, finding comfort in the gentle stroke on your arm and legs by three hands. You bit your lip hard to muffle the moans threatening to rip through.

“Ah uh- let us hear them little girl,” Daemon reached forward to pull your lip from you teeth. “That feels much better, does it not.”

You eagerly nodded “So good daddy.” You squirmed in your mother’s hold.

Both Rhaenhra and Daemon took much leisure in hearing you moan and whimper for them, a girl that barely speaks a word to them was wantonly moaning and replying to every word they uttered to you. A subtle panic ran through your body as you get that warmth build in you belly again, for whatever awaited you on the other end never seemed to come to you. Both Daemon and Rhaenyra felt your body seize.

“You must soften your body, just as you relieve yourself in the morrow.” She said, rubbing at your arms. You free hand parting away to take ahold of something, Daemon reached forward, entangling your finger in between his.

“Let go, zaldritos- be a good girl,” He cooed, some string in your mind snapped over your father’s command and you felt the tingles trapped in your swollen nerves spread through your body as you shrieked. Daemon hand held onto your tight as your body shuddered through it pleasures.

You could feel yourself look back to consciousness where everything didn't sound so muffled; you could feel your kèpa petting your hair and your muña peppering kisses down your neck. You blinked your eyes open, still breathing heavily, a lazy smile spreading over your lips her your cheek burned in humiliation over how you came undone for them.

“Must have felt so good,” Rhaenyra hummed as she lifted your fingers to her mouth and suckled on them before letting Daemon savour your taste.

“Mhmm, such a glorious delicacy,” Your father cooed at you.

You felt him shuffle lower, his breath hitting your sensitive mound as your eyes shot open. “So sensitive,” He used his thumb to gently circle your peaking bud from its hiding. He pushed your folds further exposing the reddened bud to the known world. “Such a tiny thing giving you all that pleasure,” He tapped at the exposed bundle of nerves making your jerk against Rhaenyra’s hold.

Daemon looked up, giving you a hardened gaze of a warning. Your father wasn't a strict man, and yet you always wanted to please him. You followed the rules, you finished your meals whole and went to bed at a proper hour; you under no circumstances wanted to anger him.

He let out a cool blow of air from his lips right onto your nerve, making you dig your hands into the sheets to not flick away from him. “It still looks frustrated, does it not Rhaenyra?”

“Yes, yes it does.” She agreed with her husband, letting her soft fingers pad at your nerves, you pathetically whimpered at how sensitive you were but did nothing to fight her advance. She began rubbing circles at your clit once more as Daemon rested on his knees, watching your untouched weeping hold clench and relax over the ecstasy you were in.

“Is your muña making you feel good?” Daemon asked, his fingertips still caressing your legs.

“kessa...Kessa!” You shrieked as Rhaenyra began to rub at your nerves faster, your legs tightened trying to fight the oncoming surge of sensations. The overwhelming sensations again began to water your eyes as you clothed onto Rhaenyra’s arm for dear life.

“Ah...there it is- such a good little girl,” Rhaenyra praised as your cunt spasmed, your legs shaking as your peak consumed your being yet again.

Daemon’s fingers yet again found your cunt, spreading your lips apart to admire your quivering little num, his fingers flicked at the flesh as you still recovered from the aftershocks of your second peak, you fought against them this time; your pussy was unable to take any more of this torment. Daemon pointed at you.

“Kepa deserves a turn, does he not?” He cooed, you still squirmed under his hold trying to wriggle yourself free “Whether you want it or not little girl.”

“One more riñītsos,” Rhaenyra kissed your cheek.

“Daddy- I will die,” You exaggerated, frightened tears spilling from your eyes as the tingles running through your nerves became far too over powering

“You won't die silly girl, kepa and muña will never let you die.” Daemon chuckled, Rhaenyra pushed forward to his down your abdomen as Daemon clutched a tight hold under your knees as he prepared to feast on his babyslut’s cunt. That quivering red little rosebud just begging to be in his mouth. He spat on your cunt before latching himself directly onto your bundle of nerves.

This time you screamed, the loudest anyone might have ever heard you in your lifetime. Rhaenyra consoled you, pampering your skin with her lips as she whispered words of encouragement in your ear. Just as a mother specified its child, Rhaenyra pushed the fingers she used in your cunt in your mouth; muffling your desperate cries as you suckled on them; tasting the sweetish sour slick on her fingers.

Daemon pushed your hood out even further flicking his tongue right under the hood, making you cry louder “Aw riñītsos, is that the very tingly part, is kepa licking your sensitive bit?” Rhaenyra shuffled the top of your gown down, letting your perky breasts spill free. She rolled your hardened pebbles in between her spare fingers. It was far too much, you were going due, you were sure of it. You tummy hurt from his hard you were clenching.

Daemon wanted nothing more than to feel his fingers in your untouched velvety core, yet he wanted your maidenhead unspoiled; something he planned on claiming him on a later occasion. Perhaps your forthcoming name day, he would pamper you old day just so he could watch your little body sob underneath him.

Daemon tapped at you clit “So tingly all over,” He piped, mocking your tears before rolling the nub in his fingers “We are making you feel so good, what do obedient ladies say sweet girl? What's the word?” He gently pinched at the red nerve. You were trying to muster the word at the tip of tongue yet couldn't over the incessant mocking.

“Aw, my love- her little nub is so red, our princess is so sensitive isn't she.” She pinched your nipples harder.

“What the word zaldritos?” Daemon laid a spank on your mound making you scream out the word over your mother’s fingers

“Thank you, thank you- krimvose,” You sobbed,

“Good girl,” Both Daemon and Rhaemhra praised in unison as kepa began rubbing at you clit harder before latching himself on one last time.

“So many tingles- I know, a few more,” Rhaenyra held on tighter to your thrashing “Oh dear- there- oh look at the mess riñītsos!”

Your peak gushed all over the bed, coating Daemon’s mouth as your eyes rolled back. Your chest rapidly rises and falls. You were dying, you were sure of it. Daemon and Rhaenyra at both smiled at each other triumphantly as their parental instincts took over.

Daemon lifted his tunic off his body, using it to wipe at your drenched thighs and mound and helping Rhaenyra off the bed and onto her cushioned arm chair before gently placing you onto her lap. He wrapped the two of your with a blanket before yanking the wet sheet of their bed and crumpling it to the floor.

Servants began to pour in to find a perfect picture of a family where a daughter took comfort in her mother’s arms before bed and the father readied himself for bed. He had them rekindle the fire for you, even with dragon’s blood running in your veins you were some how always cold. Only once the servants took their leave, Daemon kneeled at your level as both him and Rhaenyra fussed with your gown.

“You were so good for us riñītsos,” He cooed as he helped you stand, he yanked once more on your gown; letting it pool by your feet.

You rested your weight against him as Rhaenyra ran a warm watered cloth against your body, she reached in between you legs to clean and you whimpered

“I know, sweet girl. Almost done.” She coaxed.

“From now on, whenever you feel the tingles. You come straight to us zaldritsos.” Daemon said as he caressed your head against his shoulder, you lazily nodded “Words, my girl.”

“Come to you for tingles.” You mumbled.

Once all was said and done, Rhaenyra found a solution for her swollen breasts as you regressed further, she freed a breast from her sleep shift, opening her arms out in bed for you to lay in. You lazily latched at her nipple as spurts of sweet milk filled your mouth, you hummed; hungrily drinking from her as Daemon undid the bed curtains before joining his girls in bed. He picked out a book; one of your favourites for him to read out for you.

That night you dozed in between you parents arms, tummy full of milk as your mother cuddled your bare body from one end and your father from another.

It was an unsaid rule, parents never pick a favourite child and yet it would be written in history that their riñītsos was definitely the golden girl.

[helloiamadrawer]

Bf Aoyama stuff (AGED UP FOR NSFW)

SFW

Bf! Aoyama✨ would always show off for you in ways that make you blush like crazy, using more French in his sentences (cause he knows you like it 😳), a sparkly wink from across the room, surprise entrances in his fabulous hero costume, sending you flowers when he's gone for training (don't ask how he does that it's a secret lol)

Bf! Aoyama✨ is a gentleman, holding the door for you, asking if he could kiss you (ajdheizhdjs), even when he first met you he took a gentle hold of your hand and pecked (I'm melting this is so cute ahhh 🥰)

Bf! Aoyama✨ loooveees holding eye contact with you, even turning it into a cute staring competition which he always wins at, you can't help that his eyes were always so shiny like a night sky full of the brightest stars in the galaxy swoons mentally

Bf! Aoyama✨ gives the best kisses that will have you wanting more, it's like he's almost an expert of the art, some are quick but lingering on your lips after he pulls away, the next would be full of passion once he comes back from missions for a few days or so. His lips are comfortably warm and soft sometimes that you wish you couldn't let go ahhh

Bf Aoyama✨ secretly finds it sweet when you try to protect him/support him. Although you both would do that back and forth constantly. When Aoyama's quirk reaches his limit, you leapfrog right in front so it's your turn with the villain. And when you're down on the ground, he gets his time to shine, it's like 'I scratch your back, you scratch mine' kinda thing.

Bf Aoyama's ✨ poses are so silly but you can't help to try and cut him off with a compliment that will make him blush profusely until he gets you alone to playfully berate you after.

Bf Aoyama✨ doesn't really care if he wants to be big spoon or little spoon while cuddling (unless you have a preference ofc) as long as he gets to spend time with you is all that matters and if you wanna spice it up as well~

NSFW AHEAD after the split

Bf Aoyama ✨ is never afraid to moan in your ear during sex, he was a little (a lot) insecure about it at first, but when he knew it made you moan louder/ turning you on even more, its a boost to his ego and made sure to note that mentally every time you two go at it

Bf Aoyama ✨ will leave love bites wherever he pleases starting with your neck then growing down to your shoulders, stomach and then finally your thighs. you tell him not to make so many but he always says the same sentences..

"Oh non~did i get carried away again✨?"

"How else am I supposed to show the world that i love you ma cherie? :>"

Bf Aoyama ✨ prefers slow and sensual sex for the most plentiful of reasons:

going down on you until you cant take it anymore his face soaked from your pussy overstimulating all over him (doesn't mind it at all)

showing you many new positions he can perform reach a new height of pleasure you have never experienced before

definitely not the way you two can spend hours just fucking in every room in yall's house

all in all, he wants to remind you how much he loves you with every movement of his pelvis to the sweet nothings he whispers in your ear and trust the pain is all worth it.

Bf Aoyama ✨ french kisses like a king..his tongue moves like velvet in your mouth, one of the many things he does to make you plummet to submission

Topping Bf Aoyama ✨ untll he's a fucking mess, you ride him slow, he's out of commission, best believe you love to milk his cock until he cant cum anymore and the sweet sounds he makes ughhh just praise him of how good he's doing as you pepper his face/chest/neck with kisses and he might just cum on the spot

[mjlovescm]

Two green thumbs, Fezco O'Neil

a/n: another super old oneshot idea finally set free from brain !! Reader and Fezco’s love for gardening and making each other sandwiches 

From a young age, you knew you had a green thumb. Whether it was playing in dirt at the park or watching seeds grow for school projects. Plants, seeds, fruits, vegetables and, of course, dirt were all things you knew very well. So when your school started a gardeners club, you were first in line, but after disagreements ending in mud slinging and foul words, you left. By force. 

But that didn't stop you, and not too long after, a second gardening club was formed with you as its sole member. That was before a certain ginger haired boy saw you struggling with carrying around a few large bags of soil. 

"Fuck!" you cursed a bit loudly then you should have for a school hallway.

"You good?"

You turned around with an irritated expression, expecting a member of your previous club behind you. Instead, it was a boy from your math class. The cute, smart one who always raised his hand and wore a gold chain. 

"You need help?"

You nod, breathing heavier than you realized. 

"Grab that end, and I'll grab this one." 

The suggestion is shot down by the freckled boy, insisting on carrying it himself. 

"Yea, these bags heavy as shit." He told you as he lifted the bag over his shoulder. 

You laugh and a small smile breaks through his concentrated expression. 

"I know I've been moving them all by myself."

"I thought y'all had a whole club of people." he asked, curious as to why you were doing this alone. 

The mention of the original gardening club sent you down a spiral, which you unloaded on the boy. As he moved bag after bag of soil, you went on and on. Complaining about changing club hours, disorganized meetings and not considering the weather. It wasn't until he dropped the last bag that you realized you'd been rambling. 

"I get that, my grandma likes to do her own things too." 

His lifting left his skin with a light layer of sweat, to make up for his help, you offer him water and half of your packed lunch. 

"Mm, this is good." a content noise leaves him. "Where'd you get it?"

The compliment makes you smile in a giddy way that's hard to hide. 

"I made it myself" you gloat, "and grew it. The tomatoes and lettuce, I mean."

Together, you ate for a few minutes before getting to work on the soil. After grabbing himself a pair of gloves, the boy joined in. After an hour of hard work, it was time to go home. You both grabbed your bookbags and walked to the front of the school, where an older woman and a baby were waiting. Goodbyes were exchanged and he left.

As his grandmother drove away, you continued your wave and smile, only now remembering the redhead's name. Fezco. 

Years later and the tradition of having lunch with Fezco never died, and neither did the two of you's love for gardening. 

It was a nice spring day, warm and cool. You walked up to Fezco's door with a basket in hand, yet before you could knock, Ashtray swung the door open. 

"Checking my location again?"

It wasn't the first time Ash had been prepared for you coming over. His love for video games made him detest getting up in the middle of  one to open the door for you if Fez was busy. So he watched your location and knew when to take a bathroom break so he could get the door for you. 

"Nice dress." he ignores the question. 

"Thank you, I got it at the mall." you tell him, walking into their home.

It was a blue dress that greatly complimented your figure, it was scattered with flowers and paired with simple blue shoes. 

"Yea, when yall didn't take me."

"It was a date." 

He slips his headphones back on and returns to his gaming chair and game. 

You find your boyfriend in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal. His blue eyes meet your brown ones as he finishes drinking the leftover milk. He chokes for a moment seeing you, you both jump before rushing for a paper towel to clean the milk that spilled. 

"Damn, baby, you scared me."

"Sorry, I wanted to surprise you." a beat of silence. "Surprise. Well, actually, we have to drive to the surprise."

After a quick outfit change and second bowl of cereal, you two were in the car and on the way to his surprise. The ride is short but filled with conversation and Fezco's questions on where you were leading him and what you had in store. 

"Close your eyes."

Although you're dead serious, he looks at you as if you just told him a bad joke. But after adding a "please" and "baby" he folded.

"You better not make me trip," Fez warns as you guide him, being his eyes. "I'm not tryna fall in front of all these people."

"You're not gonna fall." you assure him, "But I will if your big feet keep kicking me."

"My fault." he apologizes as if his hands weren't currently blocking his view.

It took a minute but once you found your way there you placed Fezco in front of the two garden plots and instructed him to open his eyes. 

"Surprise!" you yell and watch his hands leave his face.

At first, he's confused, understandable. The same way anyone looking at two plots of soil would be. 

Many times, Fezco had told you of his ideal future. A family, a farm and his own land. Although your family was made up of the two of you and Ash. And the land was technically owned by the community garden, it was a small start. Since leaving school to take care of his grandmother and Ashtray, your boyfriend was limited to your garden only, and now he had his own. 

Kisses cover your face and "Thank you baby."'s fill your ears. Fezco's large arms hold you tight and close as he showers you in love and gratitude. 

Once he released you from his grasp, you gave Fezco a full tour of the entire community center. From its large garden and outdoor space, library, and list of hobbies and clubs. When you made your way back to the plots, he was ready to start planning his future plant layout. 

Two and a half months later... It was a hot summer day, overly sunny but saved by strong winds and few clouds. Fezco was returning home with dirty hands and fresh vegetables. After a good wash and cut, he pulled out his phone, taking a picture and sending it to you.

"You hungry? I'm making lunch." he speaks his words out loud as he types them.

He hits send and waits for a response before bringing all of his sandwich ingredients out. Not too long after you arrived at the O'Neil residence, he seated you at the dinner table and asked you to close your eyes. When they open, you're met with a fresh BLT and a smile waiting for your approval. 

"What's this?"

"Try it, tell me what it tastes like. I made it," a beat, "and grew it. The lettuce and tomato, I mean." 

"I know what you mean." 

You lift the hefty sandwich and take a large bite. A content noise leaving you as the rich flavor meets your tongue. Nodding as you chew, Fezco watches you enjoy the fruits or well vegetables of his labor, remembering the little girl who rambled on about dirt.

masterlist Messy, 🍋

[frenchfrywrites]

Simeon’s new neighbor

MINORS DNI

Warnings: trans masc top vampire reader, trans human bottom Simeon, blood, both of yall r fucked up.. so like morally gray/dubious things and such, attempt at religious themes and guilt, fingering, humping, blood drinking, fear wetting (nonsexual (if you can believe)), strap on, scent kink, lmk if i missed anything..

tysm to @pulpbeing for helping me w inspiration w this fic :)

It’s a spring Sunday morning when Simeon wakes to find the house across the street from him– the one nobody had lived in for years, and he was certain would never find a buyer– has finally found its new owner. He smiles to himself at the sight of the vintage car in front, and the new doormat placed outside the front door. While there’s not many other signs of life, yet, Simeon hopes that the homeowner will settle in nicely and make the place their own.

It’s out of the ordinary that his new neighbor moved in during the night, Simeon thinks briefly, but refocuses on how happy he is that someone moved in at all. He hums as he brews himself a cup of coffee, exciting himself with imagining what his new neighbor is like. He wonders if they’re friendly. He wonders if he’ll see them at church this morning. Knowing he’ll be seeing a new face around the small town leaves Simeon energized, and truth be told he probably doesn’t need the coffee at all. There’s enough pep in his step anyways.

But his age is catching up to him, and in order to keep from yawning during the service, he downs the cup he’d prepared (though not before adding copious amounts of milk and sugar to make it bearable). 

Simeon does little else before going to morning mass, and when he gets there he scans the familiar faces. All the grannies swarm at him, asking him about his week, how he’s been, among other things. He does his best to give them his attention, but he’s losing focus as he continues to analyze the congregation. 

He tries not to let disappointment sink in as no new face enters the church. The sunny day turning cloudy does little to help his emotional state. Simeon rationalizes that perhaps his neighbor is tired from the move, and even if you never go to church that doesn’t automatically make you a bad person. Smiling to himself, he decides he’ll make you a dessert as a welcoming gift.

It’s not long before he’s standing in front of your door, reaching out to ring your doorbell, holding the sweet treat in the other hand.

“Who’s there?” a beautiful voice calls from within, and Simeon feels rejuvenated, excited, and giddy all over again.

“Your new neighbor!” he responds, figuring that if he only responded with his name, you’d be entirely confused.

“Hello?” you open the door, and Simeon’s heart nearly stops. You’re nothing short of impressive and deeply intimidating in your beauty. He thought he was wearing his Sunday best, but compared to your outfit he might as well be wearing rags. Every strand of your hair is perfect, and you’ve no blemishes or disfigurements. In fact, if it didn’t sound silly to say aloud, he'd say you’re glowing. And what impresses him even more so, is that your beauty seems so effortless. 

His jaw drops slightly, leaving him gaping at you like an idiot. He’s embarrassed to be standing before you like this, as he imagines he must look so frumpy and boring compared to your elegance. You don’t seem to mind though. In fact if Simeon were to guess by your expression alone, he’d say you’re endeared and pleased with him at your doorstep.

“Ah, hello!” he finally shakes himself out of his stupor. “My name is Simeon, I live across the street,” he gestures behind himself, to his house. 

You don’t even spare his house a glance, your eyes instead staying locked on him, and Simeon feels his heart throb at how they’re an unusual, but mesmerizing, bright amber color. He licks his lips, feeling uncharacteristically flustered. “Um- I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood, so I made you a-” he prattles on, telling you about what he made, and what’s in it. From there he rambles a bit about allergies, anxiety setting in over the fact that he may have presented something inedible for you.

“Simeon,” he gasps softly at the sound of your voice cutting him off. You’re smiling, and Simeon finds himself mimicking you, though his smile is a far more bashful one. You introduce yourself to him, and Simeon thinks your name is as beautiful as you are, “would you care to come in?” you ask, opening the door for him. He enters your home without a second thought.

The two of you get on like you’ve been friends for years. You make him tea and guide him to your living room where you’re able to talk to him for hours, about a myriad of topics, until Simeon’s grumbling belly regrettably leads to him excusing himself for dinner. You walk him to your door, waiting and watching at your doorstep until you see him wave to you from inside his house.

Simeon is a social butterfly, and gets on with just about anyone, but he feels different with you. He feels like a kid with a crush again, and it’s not just that you’re good company, he feels utterly at ease and refreshed in your presence. For the rest of the night he flits around his own house in a haze of bliss, already thinking about what he wants to discuss with you next.

He finds himself at your doorstep the following evening, because that’s the time you told him you were the most available. You welcome Simeon into your home happily, and insist on making dinner for him. Strangely you don’t eat, but you tell him it’s because you had a filling lunch, and promise him you’ll eat later in the night. Simeon feels only mildly awkward being the only one eating at the table, but that feeling melts away slowly as you start up conversation again.

Like the previous night, the two of you talk until Simeon’s body catches up to him and he’s yawning more than he’s speaking. He leaves with a smile on his face, and waves to you happily from his house. He knows that his feelings towards you may become an issue later, because he can’t imagine a world where they’re reciprocated, but he’s enjoying himself too much to worry about it now. He figures he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

The next few nights he finds himself too busy to see you, but that doesn’t mean you’re off his mind. Rather, Simeon finds himself thinking of you nearly obsessively; until the first body turns up.

The town Simeon lives in is a small one, and when someone is found dead, everyone knows the details and feels their absence. The community mourns, and Simeon feels shock and fear ripple through it. This body was mangled and gored, and the main theory is that an animal did it. Despite there being an official theory, all eyes are on Simeon’s new neighbor, the outsider.

Whispers only die down once the family receives a bouquet from you on their doorstep. You’re not welcomed yet, but you’re no longer a suspect.

Simeon finds himself confused, and seeking someone to talk to. Before you, he would have gone to confession, but now he hurries across the street when the world around him turns a deep blue and twilight sinks across the sky.

“Simeon,” you greet him happily, ushering him in immediately. 

“Hi,” he breathes, again taken aback by your presence like the first day he met you. The memory of you that’s been running through his mind doesn’t even hold a candle to the real thing before him. 

The two of you stare at one another in the foyer. You clap your hands, “I don’t think I ever gave you a tour of my home, did I?” Simeon shakes his head, grateful for you taking the lead of the conversation. 

He follows you eagerly as you guide him through the first floor that he’s seen most of. You go through the kitchen, the dining and living room, your study, and the downstairs bathroom. Then you lead him upstairs. Simeon finds himself entirely distracted from the grim events of the week as you move from room to room. 

Upstairs you show him your little library– and you pause here for a while, because of course Simeon has to jealously browse your collection– the room where you do your work, and finally your bedroom. Simeon can’t help but feel bashful when you kindly show him your room. He hopes you don’t notice. If you do, you’re kind enough not to mention it.

Your house is like a museum, Simeon thinks. There’s more artifacts, antiques, and collectables in each room than he’s ever seen in his life. You have things from every era, and he can’t help but be in awe of how much care and love you put into them. 

There are some oddities within your home as well. He notices you have every mirror and window covered. Simeon wouldn’t dare bring it up though, fearing that he’d come off as rude or invasive. 

After leading him through the upstairs, you bring him back down to the living room. 

“There’s a basement too,” you mention offhandedly as you sit down, “but it’s unfinished.” 

“Your house is amazing,” Simeon confesses. You smile, and he continues, “thank you for taking me on a tour, I was…” he trails off for a moment, “I was having a rough time with the recent events, and this was a needed distraction.” In response to that you hum,

“I’m happy to have been able to help, Simeon,” you rest your head on your hand looking at him through your lashes, and Simeon feels a guilty pang of lust grow in his loins. “When death presents itself so violently and suddenly, it can be so consuming,” you muse. “I wish I could have done more for the family, I hope my condolences provided a moment of comfort.”

“Ah, I was going to tell you,” Simeon starts, “I’m sorry that some of us worried that you had something to do with this! I didn’t think that at all of course. I don’t think you could hurt a fly,” he reassures you. You laugh at that, and Simeon feels his cheeks heat with flush. 

“I see how grief could make some see a coincidence where there is none,” you say once your laughter dies off, “but let's not talk too much about all this. You came over for a distraction, no?” Simeon nods, “then let’s talk about something more lighthearted. You said you’d read some of the books you saw in my library?”

From here the conversation turns, and the two of you talk deep into the night. 

“I’ll walk you home,” you tell Simeon once he finally admits he needs to leave. Suddenly, any and all exhaustion is gone from Simeon’s body. 

“Are you sure? I’m just across the street,” Simeon says, though deep down he wants you to come over. 

“I know, but it’s so dark. It’d make me feel better even if it’s just walking a few feet,” you say, pulling on your shoes. 

The night is quiet, save for the chirps and calls from nocturnal critters. There’s light conversation between the two of you as you walk Simeon the very small distance between your houses. 

“Here I am,” he says awkwardly, unlocking and opening the door to his home. You stand outside the doorway, illuminated from his porch light.

“Good night Simeon,” you say softly, reaching out to tuck a stray hair away from his face. Awestruck, Simeon stands in his doorway dumbly, watching you turn to leave.

“Bye,” he breathes, when you’re already halfway across the street. 

He watches you enter your own house, and it’s only when you’re out of sight that he closes the door, and grabs at his chest. He laughs, a relieved and elated sound. 

“Oh Father, thank you, thank you,” he murmurs between his giggles. He goes through his nighttime routine, feeling like he’s walking on air, like he’s in a dream.

Simeon had believed that his crush was silly, that there was no possibility of his feelings being returned. Perhaps that’s still true, that your intentions were purely platonic, but it felt like so much more than that. He sighs wistfully, looking out his bedroom window at your home. You’d done something that felt so intimate so easily, like it was nothing at all. It was everything to him.

The weeks pass, and spring turns to summer, and summer eases into fall. Simeon finds himself at your house more often than not as the months pass. Helplessly he falls deeper and deeper in love with you as you make him dinners, and talk with him, and do puzzles, and quietly read together, and drink fine wines on your living room loveseat with him. He texts you during the day, and during most times that he’s not able to be with you.

Simeon’s not been this happy in a long time, and everyone around him knows it. His community has eventually warmed up to you too. It’s hard when they don’t see you in the day time, and you not going to church is certainly a difficult thing for some to stomach. Simeon praises you enough that they finally come around to accepting you.

It’s not all love and bliss surrounding him, as there’s been more deaths. It’s no big city, so typically Simeon’s town deals with maybe two to three deaths a year, and very rarely are they violent ones at that. The police say there’s leads, but when they issue a curfew, the town begins to doubt them. Simeon feels safest when he is with you, but he can’t deny the way that terror has settled into his town.

Another person is reported missing a week before Halloween, and Simeon feels like he’s going crazy. He knows the curfew is quickly approaching, but the urge to see you overpowers his logic and he finds himself in front of your door. 

It’s only then that his typical anxiety surrounding breaking rules– and even more powerful, his catholic consciousness and the fear of always being watched– sets in. He worries that even knocking will alert someone that he’s breaking curfew, and instead gives the door a try. To his surprise, it turns under his palm.

Simeon pushes in and finds himself in the house he’s grown to love. 

He calls your name, but there’s no response. Quickly, he hurries through the rooms on the main floor, but finds each space empty. As soon as Simeon attempts to take the first step upstairs, he hears the crash from below him. 

The basement.

Simeon would have never guessed to check there, so he thanks God for the noise you’ve made. He honestly forgot you had one, but as he searches for an entrance he remembers how you’d mentioned it when you’d first given him a tour of your house. 

He finds the door relatively easily, now that he’s looking for it. It’s cracked open, an invitation to join you if Simeon’s ever seen one. The lights are off, and he finds that strange, but he’s gotten used to your oddities by now. Softly, he calls your name as he makes his way down the stairs, trying not to startle you. 

Simeon’s brain takes a second to process the scene before him as he reaches the basement floor. At first he thinks it’s a lump of clothes, but he soon realizes there’s a body inside of said clothes. A body. Not your body, either. He registers that there’s blood everywhere, and he can’t believe he didn’t notice that first. He can’t believe anything he’s seeing.

A soft, choked sound leaves him at the massacre displayed before him. He’s stunned, unable to think of how to react, or where to begin. Simeon’s hands are shaking, his pulse beating rapidly in his ears. Distantly– hardly audible at all compared to the pounding in his head– he hears the soft puttering sound of liquid dripping. At first he thinks it’s blood from somewhere, but then he notices the wetness in his pants. Weakly he nearly laughs (it comes out as a strained moan), because now he feels more shame than he does terror.

“Simeon?” a familiar voice shocks him to his core. He turns to look at where the sound came from, and is not entirely pleased with what he finds. 

Your familiar, beautiful face is covered with blood, your eyes shining a bright gold, staring right at him. Simeon should run, he should turn and scramble up the stairs out of your house to the comfort of his neighbors. But he’s frozen. 

“Simeon,” you coo his name, stepping towards him. He has a million thoughts at once, adding to the powerful headache he has growing. 

“A demon?” he whines weakly, finally finding the strength to speak. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and then you’re smiling, showing off your animalistic, lethally sharp canines. 

“No, no,” and maybe it’s because Simeon’s brain is working really hard to keep up with him, but weren’t you further away before? “I know I don’t have the sparkly skin like some more popular of my kind,” you nearly giggle and he feels his knees try to buckle. “But can’t you guess what I am?” you tease. 

“Vampire,” he breathes, no uncertainty laced in his voice. You nod, 

“Oh good, that’s right,” you praise, slowly taking him into your arms. Simeon melts like butter into you. You coo, “aw sweet thing, don't fret, I won’t hurt you, I could never hurt you,” you assure him. Simeon doubts you, but there’s not much else he can think to do. 

You hoist him up carefully. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hm,” you start slowly making your way up the stairs. “I didn’t mean for you to see this, of course. I don’t mind others' opinions of me– though you seem to care a great deal on my behalf– anyways I do care what you think. We could have gone a while without you ever finding out. Naughty Simeon, you shouldn’t have been breaking curfew anyways,” you tease, rambling as you take him swiftly all the way up to your room, and into the adjoining bathroom there. 

“Would you take off your clothes?” you ask, setting him down on the toilet, and starting hot water for him. Simeon sits motionless, feeling confused and still quite terrified. You look back at him, and your eyes glow a bright yellow, “You’re safe,” you assure him, “and it’s going to be okay,” and with every word you speak Simeon feels relief and calm wash over him. He exhales a soft breath, almost forgetting what he was scared of in the first place. He remembers your request, and does as he’s told, 

He shakily, with your help, finds himself comfortable in your tub. 

“If I had the working blood to do so, I’d be blushing,” you tell him as you sit next to him, on the floor of the bathroom. When he doesn’t respond you sigh, “lots on your mind, I suppose.”

The two of you sit in uncomfortable silence for a moment.

“God forgive me,” Simeon finally breathes, turning to face you. There’s still blood caked on you, and it makes him gag. You frown, clearly upset by this. Laughable that you’re more upset by his disgust than the dead body in your basement.

“I’m sorry, I should let you go, and– and leave in the morning. I apologize for ever–” Simeon cuts you off with a sad sound.

“It’s not you,” he confesses, “I– I’m disgusted that I still love you, even though you’re…” he gestures vaguely. 

“A cold-hearted, bloodsucking, undead, uncaring killer?” you prompt, smiling at him. Simeon, despite it all, smiles back.

“Yes," you tongue licks your blood stained lips,

"And you love me?" You sound so hopeful. Simeon doesn't hesitate,

"Yes," he breathes. You reach out tucking a stray hair behind his ear like you did so many nights ago. 

"Can I kiss you?" You ask, and instead of answering, Simeon closes his eyes and leans in.

Your lips are cold, but Simeon soon finds he doesn’t mind so much. He’s dreamed of this moment, and while it didn’t come about in the way he imagined, his heart still flutters and soars at the feeling of finally having your lips on his. He reaches up, cupping your cold face with his warm, wet hands, pulling you closer. You moan softly, licking his lips with your cold tongue. 

Briefly, Simeon thinks that God must be watching him right now and cursing him for his choices. Then again, if He is all knowing, He knew Simeon would never stop loving you. Maybe God thinks creatures of the night deserve some love too.

You pull away, your eyes so bright Simeon wonders if they’re actually glowing. 

“I’ve wanted to do that since you knocked on my door all those months ago,” you confess. Simeon smiles bashfully, 

“Me too,” he whispers. You lean in and kiss him again, and Simeon knows he’s in the deep end now. There’s no way he’ll ever return to his normal life again; if it meant not having you in his life, he’s not sure he’d want to. 

This time, Simeon can taste the blood that’s still caked on your lips, and it grows harder and harder to ignore the fact that you’re still clothed and covered in gore. He pulls away this time.

“Get in the bath with me?” he requests softly, never feeling so emboldened in his life. You moan softly,

“Are you sure?” you ask, and the slow heat that had settled in Simeon’s body (just from a bit of kissing) now feels like a raging fire. 

“Yes, please,” and you don’t need to be asked twice. It’s like he blinked and there you are naked in the tub with him. Simeon doesn’t hide the way he ogles your now bare body. He shimmies his way forward, closing the space between you, and grabs a washcloth. You watch him carefully, unblinking, as Simeon carefully washes the blood from your face. 

“You’re too good to me,” you whisper sincerely when he removes the cloth from your face, and sets it down elsewhere. 

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?” Simeon jokes, smiling at you. He pauses, “speaking of mouths,” he mumbles, looking at you hopefully. You laugh, catching his drift and opening your mouth for him.

Carefully, like you’re a wild animal, Simeon runs his fingers along your teeth, marveling at how sharp your canines are. “Would you suck my blood?” he asks breathlessly. You lick his finger, and he pulls back a bit.

“If I ever started, I’m not sure I could stop,” you tell him honestly. Gently you take a hold of his wrist, and press your nose against his pulse point. You look at him as you lick across his skin, “it’s hard not to, when you smell so good,” you confess. Simeon flushes and squirms under your gaze. He glances down, trying to avoid eye contact when it becomes too much for him. 

“You’re hard,” he breathes, noticing your clit peeking out from between your pubes, his voice cracking with excitement. He looks back up at you and you’re grinning.

“Yeah,” you let go of Simeon’s wrist, “and you are too. You’re so wet for me” you sound proud, but more than that you're thrilled. Simeon furrows his brow, because how could you tell when you’ve not yet touched him? “I can smell it,” you explain, sensing his confusion. 

Simeon flushes from being found out, and because he is- to his surprise- wildly turned on by the way you’re able to smell his arousal. 

“Oh,” he breathes softly, and there’s a moment of stillness between the two of you. Then, your lips are pressed against his, and Simeon is wrapping his arms around your neck, pulling you between his thighs. You hold onto his hips to prevent yourself from slipping, and Simeon can tell you’re holding back your strength, but your grip is still pleasantly strong. 

Now, instead of his fingers running along your teeth, Simeon uses his tongue to explore your mouth. Your fangs are scarily sharp, and your mouth is cold, but none of that bothers him. He can feel your pussy rut against his thighs, and he moans into your mouth.

“Will you,” he pulls away to start, “would you make love to me?” you groan at Simeon’s request. 

“You’re so cute,” Simeon opens his mouth to argue but you cut him off, “is that really something you want?” you ask, rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

“It’s all I’ve been able to fantasize about for the last few months,” Simeon confesses easily, and you groan again. 

“Fuck, okay, yes, me too,” you seem thoroughly flustered, and Simeon feels a sharp bit of pride jolt through him at the fact that he’s able to make you feel that way.

You kiss him again as one of your hands drift from his hip to his cunt. Simeon gasps and curls in on himself a bit when he feels your fingers against him. For so long he’s only been the one to touch himself, and it’s exhilarating to feel someone else press against him. You rub easy circles onto his throbbing clit, and Simeon hiccups. 

“Fuh-oh-feels so good,” he whines against your lips, slipping a bit in the tub and mashing his mouth against your chin. You huff out a laugh,

“Are you going to last long enough for me to get my fingers in you?” you tease. Simeon takes your words seriously, and shakes his head, jerking his hips and making the water slosh,

“Probably not,” you coo, leaning down to nuzzle against his neck. You inhale deeply, and moan,

“I want you to be able to take my strap,” Simeon’s breath hitches, “will you be able to after cumming, or do you want me to make you wait?” 

Simeon whines, his eyes fluttering shut. It feels too good to have you playing with his most sensitive bundle of nerves, he can’t think straight enough to give you a response. You pinch his clit and his eyes shoot open,

“Yes sir,” he rushes out, “yes, I-I can do it.” You smile, showing off your fangs. 

“Good,” Simeon’s back arches when one of your fingers slips down and into his aching hole. You’re so cold, he wonders if he feels like a furnace inside. He squeezes around you, panting for air, feeling far too close to cumming already. Faintly Simeon can feel you still rubbing yourself against his leg, and the water splashes gently against the sides. 

One finger quickly turns to two, and you’re stretching him open, your thumb still rubbing insistently against his clit. In the brief moments before his orgasm comes crashing into him, Simeon remembers how the French call it the little death. He’d laugh if he weren’t so busy spasming around your fingers, his eyes rolling back into his head and his mouth dropping open in a silent cry. His legs tremble, and his hands shake. It’s never been as intense as this. 

“There we go, there we go little angel,” you coo, “ohh, look at you,” you sound foggy and far away as Simeon rides out his orgasm. He can vaguely sense that you’re still rutting against him, and feels the way you’re licking at his skin.

It takes him a moment, and then he’s coming down, breathing heavily and slumping into the cool water. 

“Simeon?” you test, but he’s downright dumbstruck, only mumbling incoherently in return. You huff a laugh, and instead let him warm your fingers until he hums softly. 

“Hi,” he says dumbly, a bashful smile on his face. 

“You’re back,” you tease, pulling your fingers from him– causing Simeon to whine. 

“I still want to,” he clears his throat, “um, take your," he coughs, "cock,” he stumbles a bit but finally gets out, “if you’d let me.” 

“Oh angel,” he feels butterflies in his stomach at your use of the nickname for him. “I’d love to.”

The next few minutes are filled with you moving from the bathroom to your bedroom. You insist on drying him down yourself, teasing and touching Simeon all over until he’s squirming and giggling. It’s frightening how easily he can forget about the body in the basement. It’s like it never happened at all.

You guide him to your room, your cold hand fitting perfectly in his, and lay him on your bed. Simeon thinks it’s funny that you have a bed at all. He wonders if you ever sleep. Absentmindedly he plays with his hair while watching you take out your harness. He feels heat growing between his legs as he catches a glimpse of your strap.

Soon, you’re on top of him, with lube in your hand. Simeon spreads his legs making room for you between them.

“You finished pretty quick in the bathtub,” you muse popping open the lube. Simeon covers his face, feeling a bit embarrassed. You coo, using one hand to move his arms so you can see his face, “aw don’t be shy, I’m flattered, really.” 

“It’s because it’s been so long since I had someone– um– touch me like that,” it’s not something that’s bothered him much, the fact that as he’s aged he’s had less and less people make advances on him, but confessing it to you suddenly feels so embarrassing. You don’t seem to judge him though,

“That’s alright sweetheart, I’ll be gentle,” you promise, spreading lube along your fingers. Simeon smiles, again finding himself feeling safe in your presence. 

Just to be safe, you slip a couple fingers in him, stretching him out, slicking up his insides for you. Then you lather your cock with lube, and press against him.

“Wanted to have you like this for so long,” you tell him, rubbing against Simeon’s hole, then against his clit. He presses his hips back against you, so desperate to have you filling him up.

You lean down, taking one of his nipples into your mouth as you slowly push into him. One of your fangs lightly grazes against it, and Simeon gasps. Mistaking it for a sound of pain, you pause, looking up at him with a worried gaze.

“It’s okay, keep going, keep moving, please,” he babbles desperately. You switch to his other nipple, and comply with his request, slowly moving deeper into him.

“Oh,” Simeon sighs when your hips press flush against his.

“Okay?” you pull off his chest to check in. 

“Yeah, yes,” he groans, “feels so good,” he tells you as he wraps his legs around your waist, keeping you impossibly close to him. “You’re so deep, ‘m so full,” you lean down to kiss him, stopping him from rambling more about your cock. 

Slowly but steadily, you begin to fuck into him. It’s an agonizing pace at first, but Simeon realizes you’re trying to be careful with him, and he’s lovestruck all over again. 

Finally he can’t take it any longer. “Faster,” he whines against your lips, “please sir.” You’re happy to comply, picking up the pace to satisfy him. Simeon keens, letting your tongue into his mouth. He drools and pants around your tongue, losing his composure and control. Simeon can’t believe how free he feels.

“Mhmm, angel,” you pull away from him to groan, licking your lips, “you’re so good, you taste so good,” Simeon whimpers at the praise, feeling his pussy gush. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, lookin’ like that, smelling like that,” you drawl, your speech slurring.

“Bite me,” Simeon begs, wanting so badly to have you drunk off of him. Your brows furrow, like you’re upset by the idea, and yet your hips stutter. “Puh-lease,” and with his wanton plea, you lean down and lick at his neck. 

You’re fucking him hard and fast now, getting Simeon closer and closer. He lets out a pleased noise when your fangs sink into his flesh, and then you’re drinking from him. It’s a weird sensation, not one that hurts at all. 

It takes him a minute to realize it, but Simeon thinks you might be cumming. If the gurgled moans, and the way you’re ramming your hips into him at such an erratic pace is any hint. The idea of you getting off from the taste of his blood sends him over, and for the second time tonight you make him cum. 

Minutes feel like hours and milliseconds simultaneously, but soon Simeon feels woozy. 

“Ah,” he moans, feeling lightheaded. You dislodge from him, licking at the fresh wounds on his neck. Then you’re pulling away from him. All Simeon can manage is a weak whine. Shushing him gently, you pull your strap out of him, and gracefully plop down next to him, taking him in your arms.

“Sorry, I think I got carried away,” Simeon says what he thinks is “it’s okay,” but it sounds like a whole lot of nothing coming out of his mouth. “I think I should get you a snack or something,” you muse. 

Exhaustion hits and when Simeon wakes up again you have water, juice, tea, and ten types of snacks available for him. He feels sluggish and nauseous. 

“Do you need any help?” you ask, and Simeon looks over to find you sitting in the armchair in the corner of your room, looking at him.

Simeon shakes his head, shakily grabbing the glass of juice and drinking it down. His body, eager for sugars and nutrients, immediately feels better. 

“What are you doing over there?” he asks carefully. You look nervous, an expression that he can’t remember ever seeing on you before. 

“I didn’t want to scare you,” you say. Simeon laughs,

“A bit late for that,” he teases, and pats the bed. You come over slowly, settling in next to him like a guilty dog. He smiles at you, “if you’ll have me, I don’t expect that I’ll be leaving you any time soon,” you light up.

“Oh what a relief,” you cuddle into him, “because I wasn’t planning on letting you go.”

[cl0udy3]

𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

five hargreeves x fem!reader no warnings (language?) a/n: THIS IS GOING TO HAVE LIKE FIVE MILLION PARTS SO HERES A TEASER/SNEAK PEAK SOME WHAT I LOVE YALL MWAH

“How long does it take to kill one cranky, old man?!” You whine quietly as two of the Commission’s agents stand in front of you. Your Louboutins tap against the grimy carpet of the drab motel lobby, the dull rhythm the only thing keeping you from snapping.

Cha Cha adjusts her tie, her face blank but her voice tight, “We’re working on it.” She sounds a bit annoyed, but still trying to keep her calm. Can’t piss off the boss.

“Work faster. Or I’ll send both of you back to pushing paper.” You snarl.

The pair exchange a glance, annoyed but silent. They know better. Without another word, they step outside. You follow behind, heels biting into the pavement as you walk to your car. Once inside the vehicle, you grip the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. You press your forehead against it, letting the weight of your rage settle.

“I’ll kill him with my own hands if I have to.” You mutter.

The car roars to life as you twist the keys inside the slot, then drive off to get a drink. Or maybe coffee.

----

You sit at the bar of a donut shop, drinking coffee (which probably couldn’t even be considered coffee because half of the drink was milk and sugar) and eating a donut. You were so lost in thought while sipping your drink that you didn’t notice the doorbell ring. The waitress smiled as the person walked in and took a seat next to you.

You ignored them and took a bite of your donut. Jelly-filled. Disgusting, you thought. You ate it anyway. 

You glance at person who sat next to you, and it seems to be a child who feels vaguely familiar. His freshly pressed uniform suit reminded you of a certain crotchety old man: Five. You ignore the feeling and keep eating your nasty jelly filled donut. 

“I’ll have a coffee. Black.” The kid asked

His order rings a bell. It was like he was a mini version of Five. Hilarious. You thought.

The waitress gives him a tired smile and wraps her aged fingers around the coffee pot as she pours some of the liquid into a cup. The woman hands him the mug of caffeine and he quietly thanks her.

The unidentified boy glances in your direction and notices the way you ordered your coffee. He scoffs and shakes his head.

“You call that coffee..?” You roll your eyes, snapping a bit, “What’s your problem?”

“It’s not coffee. It’s dessert.” He responds.

You turn your chair to face him, a false smirk plastered on your lips,“So…?” 

“So, it’s pathetic.”

You grip your mug tight, the ceramic cooling your skin, “Why don’t you fuck off?” 

You want to flip him off and leave so bad, but you keep yourself calm and leave it at a fuck off. But you don’t feel satisfied with that, so you lift the mug to your lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip, daring him to say something. You can feel his eyes burning into you, but you won’t give him the satisfaction. You swear his eye twitches, but he holds his composure and turns back to the bar, sipping his black coffee. 

Silence settles in, and you take a moment to review everything that has happened up until now: You’d been happily working your job as a field agent for the Commission, when the Handler stuck you with that old geezer, Five. Five’s sarcasm and arrogance grated at your nerves, but you tolerated him enough to get missions done. Until that day by the grassy knoll when he had the bright idea of going AWOL and using his ‘powers’ to get ‘home.’ His little stunt dragged you into his dimension. You went from a mature, seasoned agent to a fifteen-year-old kid, stripped of everything – your authority, your experience. Every glance in the mirror still makes your blood boil. You wanted to kill him right then, but his calculations hadn’t accounted for a second person. So, you ended up in the middle of a forest in who knows where. 

The Handler had to have you extracted, and when you gave her the details of what had happened, you could almost see a vein bulge out of her neck, but the calm look on her face was somehow worse. One misstep and that calm would break. You’d seen it happen before.

She had you send out some agents to get rid of him (Hazel and Cha Cha). You thought they were incompetent. You should’ve been the one to go after him, not those idiots, but the boss’s word was final.

Now, here you were, stuck in your prepubescent body, at a coffee shop. The shop was almost as rundown as you felt– peeling linoleum floors, flickering neon signs that buzzed like an annoying fly. Even the air was stale. It was a place for people who had nowhere better to be, which, unfortunately, included you.

You toss a crumpled bill on the counter and walk out, leaving the kid alone with his black coffee. The air outside feels heavier, the weight of unfinished business pressing down on you. You slide into your car and start the engine, the growl of the machine mirroring the growl in your chest.

You’ll find him. You’ll finish this.

If they can’t kill him, you will.

[neth-cactus]

iiiii ummm uhhh little drawings from the fic cus i fixated on my own writting jabsjwhdhe i have a looot to talk about so i will do it under the cut, the fic link will also be here

my girly pop, its weird posting stuff on ao3 but like shes there, the whole fic is me posting random little stuff i wrote on a whim so it will be noticeable dhbfjsjd also warning I might have made everyone a biiit out of character so im kinda sorry lols

now for fun notes and stuff about the chapters i did not add to the end notes

"The sun shines bright" not much to not other than after this clover's hand hurt for like a day and flowey bullied the peck out of them,,, also this is the only time flowey calls clover an idiot on this fic

"The flower pot incident" after the end clover spends like 10 minutes explaining everything about flowey, but he explains it like a little kid would, making it confusing as hell, so ceroba gives up and just like pats him and tells them to be good or smth, it was the same with everyone else

also bad quality comic of how the pot came to be

"What kind of milk were you?" the song came in as i was finishing the chapter and it fitted so well i named the chapter after it, as i mentioned it was me like poking gently to clover's life before the underground, his thought process was mostly thinking marlet was angry at them over doing the dishes in "secret" idk how to explain it but yeah :( poor little fella, also as noted at the end, flowey observed all happening and just like kept in mind

"Sewing back the pieces" I loved imagining how clover's room looked, and i had to include it, more joking around from the best friends, id like to think clover knows how to sew but they are just a bit clumsy with the needle, also those things are slippery...

"The calm before the mall" I feel proud about the title pun(? but this is also what i kind of meant with flowey keeping things on mind, by the time of this chapter a bit of time has passed of them living with humans, and flowey knows how stuff can be and how clover is a biiit shy so thats why the warning was persistent, it didnt work but meh

"Fertilizer is a fun word" IT IS A FUN WORD i love writing it lol, but seriously, i tried exemplifying more the thing of clover not speaking a lot so flowey does most of the talking for them, they do speak a bit but its short sentences and very quietly,

"You are just a boy, you are no man" this one will be long again the song fitted and it came on while writing the middle lol, clover does not know very well about the whole story with chara, but they do know that buttercups are meaningful in some sort of way for flowey so thats why they picked them, now is fun to note that the comments about their friends being monsters did bother clover but the one comment that like spilled the cup was the age one, that one hit deep and thats why they reacted that way, also the amount of people did not bother clover that much when they arrived but like the panic and stuff made them very aware of everyone around and med everything worse so ye, lastly, another time flowey calls someone idiot, this time dalv (sorry king)

i think thats all, if there's a specific choice yall are curios about feel free to tell me :3 i will probably have an answer for it

[suetrim]

Because people keep telling me that this meme aged poorly

Some of yall are seriously creative though so far I’ve gotten it aged like milk, avocados, and one person said it aged like wine and then like vinegar



[vampyresovereign]

TWISTED CHARACTERS AND THE MUSIC I THINK THEY'D LIKE! (scarabia vers.)

my favorite dorm i fear uh WOOOOOHOOOOO PART 4 BABY!! MILKING THIS SERIES DRY FOR THE NEXT 3 HOUSES FOR REALZIES!!! -isa<3

KALIM AL-ASIM

oooooooh boy. Kalim would be another Twisted character that I feel would have an EXPANSIVE music taste, especially since he's in the pop music card/team/club thingy whatever it is BUT Y'ALL KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. Growing up in the Land of the Scalding Sands (which is so obviously a nation inspired by the Arabian peninsula and North Africa I mean come on yall.) I feel like the earliest music he'd be exposed to (and would honestly stick to) would obviously be regional music, popular artists like Fairuz, Nancy Ajram, etc. Honestly, arabic music/english-language arabic inspired pop would be his go to's but I also feel like he'd thoroughly enjoy world music too. Anything you can dance to, really. From Sean Paul to Carly Rae Jepsen, he wouldn't really have a problem if someone else was handed the aux. Unless you play like.. death metal. I can't really see him liking that.

JAMIL VIPER

jamil was kalim's servant for pretty much the entirety of his formative years, so i feel like similar to him, he'd obviously have some arabic pop on his playlists, maybe play it in the background while he's washing dishes or something. but he wouldn't be pop/dance music's #1 fan (he'd like to dance but not to something like really mainstream pop). I don't know where I saw this, it was on some headcanon page or something ERGHHHHH IF I HAD THE LINK I WOULD LINK IT BUT essentially it said something about how they headcanoned Jamil as the type to read those romance books made for like middle aged women (he would lock himself in his room to read it and not tell no one too) AND I AGREED SO HARD so that like kind of put the idea in my head that he would be an alternative/slow rnb lover type of guy. he like just got back from a long ass day of LIFE TBH and carrying the scarabia dorm on his back and is now using the last few hours of the day to rewind and he like turns on The Weeknd/Amy Winehouse/Lana Del Rey/Miguel/Brent Faiyaz to set the mood for scenarios in his head.

had to cut jamil short or i would start glazing if you sent a request im still writing gang DW -isa<3

[bolszaja-miedwedica]

NEW ABOUT ME:

-I'm genderfluid and audhd, borderline too (undiagnosed because the system sucks) and diagnosed schizophrenic

-godspoused! if you're anti fuck off

-I'm an age regressor but i curse a lot on this blog so age regressors feel free to follow my agere side blog @there-are-sharks-in-my-milk

-i don't discriminate anyone this is a safe space for minorities, poc, microlabels, systems, lgbt people, therians, everyone who is not a hateful jerk

-this blog is a mix of me posting about my deities, stray kids and other stuff i find interesting

-sometimes i vent make sure you're okay with it

blog rules are:

-if my practice looks different than yours and you don't like it you're free to unfollow

-if my vents annoy you and you feel the urge to tell me its my fault you're free to unfollow this is my shadow work free from censor space

-if you feel the need to tell me i seem psychotic you're free to fuck off

-don't fuckin curse me??? some of yall are not behaving and it's pissing me off

-other than that be kind and respectful to me and my friends

to interact with my blog make sure that you aren't:

racist, homophobic, terf, pedo, ableist, anti agere, a nsfw blog (it makes me uncomfortable), generally a hateful human

now the best part:

worshipping:

-Sekhmet

-Holy Mary

-Baba Jaga

-Medusa

-Kali

-Lilith

working with:

Marzanna, Apollo, Dionysus, Hecate, Persephone, Asclepius, Hel, Anat, Death, Satan, Leszy, Cernunnos, Horned God, Helios, Venus, Freyja, Asmodeus, Baphomet archangel Jophiel, Thoth, Fenrir, Dantalion, Buer, Beelzebub, Mut, Bes, Bacchus, Kogkipr (an unknown deity), Proserpina, Cnabetius Mars, Tegid Foel, angel Sariel, Hermanubis, Amun, Deimos and Phobos, Kvasir, Wepwawet, The Dagda, Swarożyc, Lucifer, Begotho (unknown deity), Aphrodite Areia, Stracchus (unknown deity), Ruadan, Somnia, Kek, Cerberus, Hestia, Nyx, Cerridwen, the Morrigan, Parvati, Shiva, Krishna, Vishnu, RadhaRani, Lakshmi, archangel Gabriel, archangel Azrael, Nakir and Munkar, archangel Michael, archangel Israphil, Kiram and Katibun, Somnus, Loki, Mokosz, Allah, Brigid, Hermes, Shakti, Anubis, Weles, Baldur, Khnum, Poseidon, Amphitrite, Astaroth, Neith, Wenut, Ganesha, Perun, Khepri, Inanna, Dola/Niedola, Ariadne, Jaryło, Chors, Sleipnir, Zorza, Jormungandr, Odin, Czarnobóg, Blodeuwedd, Set, Mafdet, Idunn, Seshat, Dziewanna, Artemis, Arioch, Eros, Vesna, Selene, Luna, Leviathan, Behemoth, Nox, Mammon, Abaddon, Azazel, Kathos, Vesta, Sun, Moon, Minerva, Athena, Eosphorus, Stolas, Melinoe, Mary of Magdala

spirits that i work with:

-Pahiri (a white dragon spirit)

-Nkfofa (the mermaid spirit guide)

-a fae

-Fienon (a rusałka)

-Mo Xasii (familiar nr 1)

-Hilkog (spirit guide)

-Kalina (a harpy)

-Zanota (a mermaid spirit guide nr 2)

-Gawoż (hydra, familiar nr 2)

- Kiityk (upiór spirit guide)

-Xyo (a red fire dragon)

-Bemamo (a dragon shark)

devoting to:

-King Hades

-Bastet

-Aphrodite

I'm not really a hellenic polytheist, nor a kemetic one, not really a slavic one as well although i am hyperfixated on slavic paganism, yes, and i do wanna work with more slavic deities in the future but I don't label myself as anything I'm just a witch and a pagan i celebrate the slavic holidays and my deities holidays because they're the closest to me. if i were to label myself i would use "rodzimowierca"? but I'm just a witch, and well apparently a medium now too so 😀 fun uhh

i do free readings too! 5 a day to not burn out so quick but i wanna get more skilled since divination is my favourite skill to get one just dm me tp ask if im open!

I'm planning to master:

-cartomancy

-herbology

-moon magic

-blood magic

-protection

-palmistry

-a crystal ball

-reading more books...

-my fuckin research motivation...

i can do:

-tarot

-clairvoyance

-clairaudience

-spells and shit

-rituals

-sigils

-tea blends i guess

-motanki

-scrying

-oracle

-runes (both nordic and witch's runes)

-smoke reading

sława! :]

[precious-little-scoundrel]

ok yall be honest, of these two couples, who’s kinkier? And I don’t mean who has the more fulfilling sex, that’s to each their own and vanilla is just fine for many. it’s what they need and thrive off. but I got my headcanons and I wanna hear yours

omg girl give us the headcanons

Ok darling(s) I’m all too eager tbh. 😆 and these are just preliminary and maybe not fully canon thots so far.

First off, this ASK from earlier contains more headcanons and screams.

Jack x Tilly Headcanons (mostly 🌶️💋🔞)

warnings: these are smutty headcanons, mention of kids and Catholicism but in a fluffy context, brief breast milk mention, brief and vague SA trauma reference

•Jack is an atrocious snuggler. Actually that is wrong, he is a great one if snuggling is the Olympic sport of the moment, no one snuggles harder than this man. An odd thing to many since he is so reserved and somewhat deterring of affection in the day to day and he’s all elbows and knees. But when it comes to his woman at night or on the couch he is on her like a duck on a junebug, and that’s the order of things! Him on her. He finds a way to wrap around her somehow no matter what and to lay his head on some soft part of her. Tilly loves it as somehow she feels both comforting and kept all at once, it satisfies her energy and impulses both ways. And if he’s not doing it she immediately knows something is quite terrible up in his headspace. This has nothing to do with sex, sometimes it leads to it but often it doesn’t. Which others might find odd for how intense it is. Shhh let them be

•Jack is also a very intense kisser. He can be giggly about it, especially if drunk, but most times he’s very intense to the point of not being everyone’s cup of tea. But tbh, there’s more gentle dominance in his kisses than most men calling themselves daddy out there. His kisses age him -in a very nice way. Tilly melts into a puddle of goo -don’t believe me? Check between her legs. Actually don’t that’s Jack’s job and he’s a jealous fucker

•he’s a jaw cradler, and not from the side, he often cups it from under and it’s unintentionally giving some throat action. Or maybe it is intentional. But he’s not out there choking her (I don’t think unless she asks???) but he is a very intense jaw cradler with those fucking beautiful hands. Sometimes it feels like he’s *taking* his kisses and Tilly goes weak kneed for it. I take no criticism

•he’s a very subtle, gentle braggart about his wife. Not about his Casanova skills, no, but about his wifey. But he’ll say it and most times, it’s so wry or subtle that only five to ten minutes later will his buddies jerk and realize he just dropped some filthy sex anecdotes right there

•these two have sex a lot. they will sneak that shit in. and with all their kids it has to be snuck and often has to be quick and the eye fucking foreplay of these two throughout their day is actually a very intricate and intentional thing so when they snap and disappear for a minute or five, when the kids are riding bikes in the neighborhood and Jack has her agaisnt the fridge or when they’ve finally got themselves to an adult Christmas party where the music is loud and the powder room empty —don’t make the mistake of thinking it was all impulse. It was, but it was brewed for hours if not days before until they snapped and collided.

•with something so rushed and spur of the minute, Johnny often worries his baby is getting her fix. And the idea of her not is awful, the idea of him getting his but she not getting hers is outright anathema to him. Good thing those fingers (and Bucky’s tips, yes thanks Egan you can shush now) and that tongue are wickedly smart. If Benny is a wonder of slow savoring, John Brady is a buzzing brand held right to her until Tilly is coming a mere fifteen seconds after thinking it wasn't to be.

•Tilly is usually the one begging “harder” but Sweet Jesus he delivers. Doesn’t mean it’s not loving but holy shit there are hip bruises and the sound of him smacking off her lush backside is enough to send him dizzy and get them reported for having a pile driver in the living room

•Jack is a munch, as my fellow anons have agreed, and this man likes it best when she is sat on his face. It’s the thighs around his face, the view upwards and the suffocation and the way she’s able to grind down so well when it feels good and tug his hair and he just goes to another world that way. Only time this man de-stresses tbh

•But he’ll go down anywhere. And he’d rather do it before these rushed quickies spoken of above but Tilly loves the pummeling friction first and then a quick few smooches and swipes of his tongue down there and she’s gushing. So he complies, if that’s how his missus wants it, she gets it.

•which is rather a maxim for Brady life, not just sex. But this woman is the one bringing up some wild shit to this man and he rolls with it, happily. Sometimes she’s just already positioned or dressed for it when he comes home or comes back into the room after putting the kids down and he’s gives an absolutely wry and sardonic greeting followed by the noise of his belt jangling loose followed by the most heated kiss you ever did see.

•“You look nice.” he’ll compliment her respectfully when she’s in the most debauched accouterments.

•Can’t wait, gotta have you, be good for me” he’ll say when she’s prim as any other Catholic housewife in her dress still crinkled from kneeling in mass

•the Catholic dichotomy drives Tilly nuts (note, author may be projecting)

•i think this man has a raging praise kink, and Tilly is downright ready to feed it. Has little choice, she says what she thinks and is very vocal in all aspects of life and he makes her go to heaven and back and she is gonna narrate the trip. That’s how she is and he’s a moaning mess for it

•But it’s in a primarily “you make me feel so good, I love you so much, how are you so good at that?” sorta way. She keeps one other way tucked away for very special occasions when the mood is right

•it’s got to be just right tho. not that a bomb will go off if it’s not, he’ll just sorta look at her like “thanks babe, you’re silly tho” if she times it wrong. If she times it right?! Times it right and all she’s gotta do is call him boy and he shakes and hardens into an absolute mess. He’s gotta be pretty far goners when she plays that card, but if he is, he loses it. “That’s it sweet boy, you’re my pretty boy, so good to me darling boy, hold on for me a little longer sweet boy, you’re my boy aren’t you?”

•with Tilly being so lush and warm and free and easy, I am gonna be bold and admit this couple 100% lets that man suck her titties -even when she’s got milk in them. It’s no age regression thing at all, it’s not “mommy kink” either, in fact, it's simply the man who made her a mother helping her out when she’s swollen and hurting, or else, savoring the changes he made to her body. As a man. And it’s just something soft and sweet to indulge in. And Tilly does have the most incredible rack ever so there’s that as well.

•is there a small breeding kink or is he just Catholic and does she enjoy the faces he makes and the hot splash of him when he cums inside? who knows tbh

•Jack has to be facing her. Or at least for years. He’s gotta be facing her or else a mirror and they learned this the hard way, otherwise his trauma will literally teleport him elsewhere and shut him down and it’s the most horrible thing has ever witnessed

•also for very a long time he wasn’t just unable to bear things being done to him like a blow job, but truly it fucking sent him as well. A remedy for this was found to be his enjoyment of oral for her or else full in sex or, with care and time, mutually giving. He just can’t lay there and enjoy being serviced, it’s not him being too stressed or picky, he legitimately is traumatized by it. So, god bless 69 even if Still thinks she’s trash at it because he’s so good at what he does on his end that after the first two minutes she is usually so blissed out she just holds his cock and moans on it instead actually doing much of anything close to blowing him

•there are some other stalag trauma related triggers and helps and tastes that we’ll revisit later once more of that it out in public consumption but there’s that for now I think. This was SUCH fun