#are we still craving maid outfits because i still am

[evelyn-and-art]

Who in the world gets entertained by this stuff? Hey, won’t you tell me? With a smile—up, pull, pull. (MoeChakkaFire by Issey)

[purplesoulcollection]

Unnatural Love

Part 9 (1) Synopsis : Name has being transmigrated into the world of I'm Not That Kind Of Talent without ever reading the novel. She's not being reincarnated as a human but as a devil as well. Hi There! I want to let you know that this fanfiction story isn't solely my creation. I borrowed the concept from @quqiwo2. I haven't actually read the novel either, just some spoiler to the end.

I hope you'll excuse my spelling and grammar mistake, because English not my first language.

I find myself wishing I had made a different decision earlier. Even if I have no other options available to me now. Because...

"Everyone, this is Adele, my fiancé." Deon said while introducing me to the servants who work in his house. I can easily guess their reaction only with seeing their face; they were shocked and completely skeptical about it. It seems like being known as the Emperor's dog really weigh heavily on his personal life at all.

But their gaze still makes me so nervous...

"Young master, you got engaged to a woman without holding a big party. This is a crime for us." An old butler suddenly responded to Deon. Is he Head Servant here? Because usually the oldest and most strikingly dressed is the head servant.

"It can't be helped, I liked her first."

"Then why does your fiancé wear your clothes like this? You are the noble, why can't you treat her to some lovely clothes?"  He seems to notice my baggy clothes, which are actually Deon's, but you know what? They're super comfy!

"I'm in a hurry to go home, after all we rode horses to get here. It's impossible if she wears those heavy dress." He lied very easily, thanks to his experience.

But here I am, speechless with his flawless lie.

"Young master, you are so mature that you can have a fiancé now. This old man is touched for you." The old butler wiped away a single tear with a cloth in his pocket.

I, who watched the drama, just smiled awkwardly while holding both hands. My hands finally changed color to normal human skin color too.

I’m really looking forward to seeing my reflection in the mirror!

Traveling by horse by the way is just a lie. To have a good reason to wear Deon's clothes because all I have is inappropriate clothes and to blend in with my camouflage as a human woman.

We walked into the human world, and ladies in this world is not known with their strength to walk that far away…

"At least let us change your fiancé's clothes into something more normal to wear!" But the butler still insisted to change my clothes.

I think my clothes really inappropriate in too many ways in his eyes.

Deon looks closely to my clothes too before he said "... Okay."

That was the moment when the maid pulled me away to put on a royal-era dress complete with a corset. I shot him a look of betrayal, but he turned his gaze away from me. He knows he's wrong.

‘Deon, you traitor!’

But at least, I can asked them to not to use corsets. They obeyed and told that it's fine if I don't wear a corset at home, but if I have to go to a party you must wear that.

But I'm confused, for some reason they already have women's dresses here. Is this what his mother left behind?

But it suits me somehow???

Is it possible that it could be like that....

But the more confusing one is…

Why do I have to be the doll of the servants here?

They mentioned that their goal was to find the perfect dress that would suit me best, all while considering my body measurements.

To reach that goal, I need to be caught up in the chaotic debate and wearing a disheveled outfit for nearly three hours.

"This lady looks best when she wears a blue dress!"

"Wrong, madam it looks best when you wear red!"

"Purple is good too!"

I'm tired. Can I just rest even though it's still early? Moreover, I didn't even sleep in order to come here.

“Can you take me to my room? I'm tired of traveling.“

My tired eyes are definitely craving some rest right now. My body also feel so sleazy after all of this.

"We'll escort you right away." They turned away and started talking softly. I have no idea what they're discussing, but my yawn makes me completely indifferent.

Then I went to my room, took a shower (thank goodness this wasn't the era of kingdoms where servants had to bathe their masters), slept like a log.

I fell asleep so fast that I didn't realize one thing.

Whose room is this?

"She’s sleeping?"

'Yes young master. She’s not even touch her lunch yet."

After a moment of silence, Deon tapped his finger on the teacup several times before finally speaking up.

"I'll take care of it. You can deliver her lunch in my room."

"I understand young master."

Only after saying that, Remember go away from Deon.

And after he sips his last drop of tea. Deon got up and went to his room. As soon as he opened the door, he could see Adele sleeping soundly without being disturbed by his presence.

He approach Adele and swipe her bangs from her face. Her expression radiates an otherworldly tranquility. Looks so peaceful and beautiful.

Adele's sleeping face was the new thing he saw in Adele. Adele in the devil's world always looked so alert, nervous, kind of sad.

She always looked like the outsider even if she's devil too in his eyes. Her nature does not reflect the nature of the devil.

He isn't joking when he said Adele looks like a human. Maybe she's born in wrong body. Not that he really care about her race.

Maybe she's suitable enough to be a human here.

She didn't even flinch when his finger touch her face. Maybe she's so tired or she's heavy sleeper.

Whatever the reason, he still wants to touch her face. So he stroke her cheeks and looking at her face before he kissed her. In the lips...

I saw a white roof when I woke up.

I also felt a soft mattress that I haven't felt for a long time. The maid mattress in the Devil's palace doesn't use much foam.

Sometimes I have insomnia because I'm not used to it, I can only fall asleep when I'm tired, no matter the place.

"Already up? " That noise is coming from my end. I'm twisting my head in surprise. The first thing I see is his red eyes staring at me so closely.

"D-Deon, what are you doing here?"

"This is my room."

HIS ROOM!! Not in the guest room!?!

"Could it be that the servants don't know that we sleep separately? That's why we were put together? We have to immediately ask for separate rooms!" I am speaking frantically.

I can't sleep here; I need to leave immediately. But before I could get up, Deon grabbed me and I stopped.

"Don't."

Only then I looked at him, his eyes looks so fierce. Make me flinch unknowingly.

"Why, we're just dating. It's not worth it to sharing a room like this."

"But we already love each other. Why not?"

His expression appears completely oblivious, contrasting sharply with my anxious thoughts.

"Privacy... Don't you want that from me?"

"In fact, I would be happy if you could accompany me here."

I'm blushing. He is the natural charmer for me with his good looking face and the sincere words.

Hm...

Why is Deon's pitiful face so cute? So dazzling...

Why his face have to be this good? I can't even compare to him!

Is it time to give up? Moreover, the highest quest was also more embarrassing than this. If my quest isn't done, I can't return to my world.

Finally I nodded and Deon was very happy.

To Be Continued

I cut part 9 into 2 parts. Enjoy the story...

[inner-visionz]

Magic City(2d x autistic transboy reader)

Spend the night

Warning: smut, choking in sexual context

Over the next week, we've been constantly texting because of his work schedule. I love getting his good morning texts as soon as I wake up. They always make me smile. I did pop into his work just to see him and to see him in his maid outfit but that's not the point. 

I'm lying on my bed in the morning when I feel my phone buzz beside me. 

'Hey, I was wondering if maybe I could come over and spend the night? If not that's fine ' 

I feel my heart about to beat out of my chest. He wants to spend the night? With me? 

'Yes of course you can :)'

'Yay! I can't wait I'll see you later after my shift I'll message you when I'm on my way' 

'Okay I'll be here waiting for you' 

I feel like such a schoolgirl getting all giddy over someone like this. I'm always so excited to see him. Well, beings he's coming over I guess I should clean up my room a bit and get dressed. 

I start by putting away all my laundry, throw away my trash,  and clean out my ashtray. After cleaning up a bit, I put on a plain T-shirt and black basketball shorts. 

I go downstairs to see everyone in the living room just chatting and hanging out. 

"It's about time you joined us 2D, Murdoc called but we didn't want to wake you up," Ace says. 

"Oh..he did? Well, I'm sure he didn't want to talk to me anyway" I try to sound like I wasn't hurt that I didn't get to talk to him. 

"Well, he seemed disappointed that he didn't get to talk to you," He says.

The comment he made stung. I wish I could've talked to him. I feel a wave of depression come over me which makes my chest heavy. "Oh, well anyway y/n is coming over to stay the night". 

Noodle beams, "I'm so happy to finally meet him! When will he be here?" 

"Sometime later he didn't really give me a time, just said after his shift". 

"Okay! I can't wait" she says excitedly. 

I smile a bit at Noodle's enthusiasm, but I can’t shake this heavy feeling in my chest. I just want to be alone right now.  I start to head upstairs and no one stops me. They all leave me alone when I start to feel like this and it's always written all over my face. 

Once I get to my room and lay on my bed my eyes start to water. I miss Murdoc. I want him home. I want him to call me face ache. Why am I happy that he's gone but also miss him so much and crave his attention? I start to cry more than before and put my face in my hands.  

Eventually, I stop crying and just lay there in bed, occasionally scrolling through my phone for a few hours. But the depression is still here. My phone vibrates and it's a text from y/n saying he's on his way. Shit, I completely forgot he was coming over and I still just want to be left alone right now.  I tell him 'okay' with a heart emoji so I didn't seem disinterested. 

Your POV

I can't believe I finally get a whole night with 2D! I could really use some decompressing time right now. Normally work being loud and overstimulating doesn't bother me too much but today it did. It was so hard trying to mask for my customers that I didn't get as many tips as I normally do. So instead of dressing up I just put on a baggy t-shirt and basketball shorts so I can be comfy.

I get to 2Ds house and grab my bag as I get out of the cab. I text him saying that I'm here and knock on the door. I don't have to wait long before Noodle opens the door. 

"Y/n! You're here!" She says excitedly. 

I'm a bit taken aback by her introduction. I'm glad she's happy to meet me, I just wasn't expecting this. 

I force a smile on my face, "Um hi Noodle may I come in?" I ask. 

"Yes of course," she says and shows me inside. The house seems much more clean now that Murdoc is gone or at least from the few pictures I've seen when Murdoc was around. 

"I'm guessing 2D told you about me, being you know my name," I say. 

"Oh yeah he likes to talk about you quite often, he's still upstairs in his room, it's the last door to the left".

"Okay thank you". I give a quick, awkward hi to Ace and Russell before going upstairs. Normally I'd stay longer and chat but I'm burnt out on socializing.  I get to his door and knock.

"Come in love," he says. Just hearing his voice gives me butterflies and makes me so happy to see him. I open the door to see him sitting at his desk. He looks like he has a slightly annoyed expression on his face. 

Did I do something? Is he mad at me? What's wrong with him? I start to feel a little anxious but maybe I can help him. 

"What's wrong?" I ask walking over to him. 

"Nothing," he says barely glancing up at me.  

"Are you sure? Because you look like hell" shit that was blunt.  

"I'm fine okay?" He snaps. 

"I'm just trying to help because you're clearly not fine" I snap back. 

"Well stop trying I obviously didn't ask for help" 

"What's your fucking problem? I came over because I was having a shit day at work. Do you know what it's like to have men constantly try to grab at you all fucking day?" 

"My problem is you and last I checked I didn't ask about your problems" 

Ouch, that one hurt but I roll my eyes and when I stop I see his lyric book for the now now on his nightstand. Now I know what the problem is. "You miss Murdoc".

2D sits up and shoots me a look that could've killed me. "Don't".

"What's the big deal? I thought you were happier without him? Why miss someone who was abusive to you? I'm sorry you get attached to anyone who shows you any type of attention" 

2D stands up and walks over to me. He places a hand in the middle of my chest and lightly pins me to a wall. He looks down at me and narrows his eyebrows. "I said don't, now be quiet". 

Oh no this is hot. I start to blush and feel myself go non-verbal. All of the sensory input makes it feel like I have sludge in my mouth. The warmth of his hand on my chest, being pushed against a wall, and how he's looking at me is making me feel embarrassed and slightly turned on. All I can muster is a nod. 

2D takes notice of my face and I'm sure he can feel my fast heartbeat too. "What is this your shut up button?" I feel my face get hotter and I turn my head away from him. He grabs my face and makes me turn my head back to him. "Don't look away from me, YOU started this". I feel my face start to soften up and I look up at him. I think he notices what he's doing to me so he finally gives me a small smirk and gently kisses me. "I just need to be alone right now to cool off okay? I promise we'll talk later," he says gently as he rubs his thumb over my cheek. 

I lean my head into his hand then smile and mutter an 'mhm' as I walk out of his room. 

I go back downstairs and sit in the living room with everyone else. I pull out my sketchbook and start to draw. 

"Was 2D being a dick to you?" Russell asks. 

"We both were kinda but it's okay now". I force myself to say without looking away from my book.

"Yeah, he gets like that when he's in a mood so we always leave him alone, but we thought you'd make him feel better so we didn't say anything, sorry about that", Russell says. 

"It's okay, we just had a small spat but I left so he could cool down". 

Russell nods and we leave it at that. 

Over the next couple of hours, I drew and talked to everyone. I was able to open up more to them and got to share my excitement with Noodle in meeting each other. 

I get a text from 2D and check my phone.

'Hey sweetie I'm really sorry for how I acted with you, if you don't want to come back tonight I'll understand' 

I smile and set my phone down. He thinks I completely left. I'm sure he'll be pleasantly surprised to know I'm still here.

"Looks like 2D is feeling better so I'm gonna go up there so we can have a chat", I say as I put my sketchbook back in my bag and go to his room. I don't bother knocking this time and just walk in. 

He sits up in his bed and looks at me wide-eyed. "How did you get here so fast?" 

"I never left goober" I chuckle lightly. 

"I thought you would've" 

"It was just a spat" 

"Hmm, come here baby boy" he holds his arms out for me to come to him. I immediately set my bag beside the bed and then go to him. He pulls me to his lap and I cling to his chest then smoosh my face into it like a cat desperate for pets. He chuckles and runs his fingers through my hair then holds me tight with his other hand. "I'm sorry sweetie. I get snappy when I'm depressed but I shouldn't have taken it out on you".

"I forgive you and I'm sorry too, I also get snappy sometimes when I'm overwhelmed or overstimulated. If someone snaps at me I either don't talk or I get defensive, also you hurt me when you said I was the problem and that you didn't care about mine so I get back by hurting the other person". 

"You're forgiven love but let's just agree to work on these things okay? I'll talk to you about what's wrong from now on" 

"I'd like that, and I'll work on choosing my words better when I'm mad," I say and nuzzle my face into him.

"Good boy, now about that reaction I got while I had you pinned on the wall" he smirks and moves his hands to my stomach so he can lay me on my back and get on top of me. I start to blush and look away. I can feel his bulge pressed up against me in just the right spot and it's making me blush more. It's so hard to keep my composure when I haven't been touched like this in a while AND it's my celebrity crush. 

"I guess I did find your shut up button, that's good I think I'll use it next time you get on my nerves" 

All I can mutter is an annoyed 'hmph'. He chuckles and grabs my face making me look at him. "You're so fun to mess with". 

"Hmmmmm you're being very mean to me get off", I pout playfully. 

"No, I think I'll stay here". 

I squirm under him to get free which makes him let out a small shaky sigh. It's just enough of a distraction for me to get out from under him then leave the bed. I go over to his desk and sit on the chair then turn it away from him. "Don't talk to me". I say playfully and try not to giggle. 

2d chuckles, "Come here brat, I didn't even get to ask you about why your work day was shitty".

"That's because you were too busy messing with me".

"Okay then I guess you don't get cuddles because you won't come here", he teases. 

"Fine". I get up and go back to him then sit on his lap like I was before. 

He holds me tightly then gives me a soft kiss. "Now you wanna tell me about your day now?"

"Well, normally I can handle how loud it is and only focus on one noise but today I couldn't. I couldn't focus on one thing and I could hardly handle how loud it was. It was hard to mask for my clients so I didn't get as many tips and they all thought I was being stuck up and would try to grab at me to get me to 'lighten up'. I don't know why old men think that works, luckily Jessie won't fire me for kicking them out and yelling at them". 

2D had a blank look on his face. "Oh..dang that sucks?"

"Were you paying attention?"

"No, I was…trying but you were talking very fast".

"Oh sorry, do you need me to repeat myself?" 

"It's okay I'm slowly processing it now, umm why do you get overwhelmed when things are too loud?" 

"I'm autistic, my brain inputs sensory differently than you do, actually it kinda inputs everything differently". 

"You don't act autistic," he says, questioning me.

"Buddy you don't know how much I love your band yet, BUT if you want proof allow me to demonstrate AHEM", I continue to go on a rant about the whole history of Gorillaz and everyone's backstory leading up to now. The whole thing takes about 10 minutes. 

2D just stares with a very blank expression. " I take back my statement".

"Listen, I do that to everyone who says I don't look autistic or says I don't act like it. It's really not a compliment and it's annoying, you don't have to apologize because you didn't know". 

"Oh, right okay I'll remember that". 

"But you know how hard it was to not ask you a million questions when we first met?" 

He laughs and ruffles my hair. "You can ask me them in a little bit if you want, right now I wanna know what else you're really into, just try to slow it down a bit so I can listen".

"I'm glad you said something because I'm also really into art, I have my sketchbook if you want to see".

He smiles. "Of course, I'd love to see". I squeal and flap my hands in excitement then grab my bag to get my sketchbook. I start to take it out then notice my black lacey lingerie is hooked by the spiral. 

"What's that you have there?" 2D asks. 

I immediately rip it off and shove it back into my bag. "What's what? I didn't see anything". 

"Right, and what exactly were you planning on doing with those?" 

"I have no idea what you're talking about, anyway art". My face turns bright red as I move to sit beside 2D. I see him smile as he leans over and puts his arm behind my back to support himself. He basically rests his chin on my shoulder as he waits for me to open the book. 

I start to go on a tangent about my OCs and how they're all connected in some way. I make sure to slow my talking down so he can listen better. Then we get to the part where I drew a lot of 2D. 

"Sorry if you think it's weird, you're just really fun to draw", I say kinda embarrassed. 

"I like it, I find it flattering. I love your art". He looks at me with love in his eyes and gives me a soft smile. I smile back and feel my cheeks turn red. "I love having you over, this is so nice". He cups my cheek in his hand and I melt into his touch. I love having someone I feel safe with touch my face. It makes me so happy and for a second I let my guard down.

"I love you, please keep touching my face". 2D stares at me in bewilderment then that's when I realize what I just said. "Umm wait I uhh". I feel a huge wave of anxiety wash over me and start to tear up. I move a bit away from him and shut my eyes tightly as I grip fistfuls of hair by the root. I don't rip my hair out, I just tug a bit to feel it and release a little stress. 

"Hey, hey it's okay", he grabs my hands carefully and removes them from my hair, "I love you too, I'd love to keep touching your face". He cups both of my cheeks and gently rubs his thumbs on them, wiping away a tear in the process. I start to calm down when he does this and I melt into his touch again.

"Thank you, does this mean we're official now?" 

"What made you think we weren't already?"

"Well it wasn't really specified"

He chuckles and kisses me. "Yeah, we're official now". 

"Can I have another kiss?" I ask and bat my eyes. 

He chuckles. "Of course you can". He pulls my face to him and kisses me softly. 

I smile and give a small giggle. "Another one?" He smiles warmly at me and kisses me again. "One more?"

He laughs, "Okay one more". He gives me a mischievous smirk and lightly kisses me over and over but each time it gets deeper until he leaves his lips on mine. He groans lightly and shoves his tongue in my mouth. I let out a light moan then grip his shirt. 2D moves his hands from my face and places them on my stomach so he can push me down and get on top of me. 

He sits between my legs and smirks at me. My face turns bright red. "You look so cute when you're under me all flustered". I chuckle but don't say anything. "You know I'd love to know what you're thinking, you don't have to be quiet when I have you pinned". 

(IT'S ABOUT TO GET VERY INTENSE SO IF THAT'S NOT YOUR THING YOU CAN SKIP)

I think for a second about how I can communicate what I want without talking right now, but then I get an idea. I start to move my hips against his which rewards me with a very lustful look from 2D and a few shaky breaths. With both of us wearing thin basketball shorts we can feel each other very well. I can feel his cock against me and I'm sure he can feel my throbbing cunt. I sign 'more' which makes 2D give me a questioning look. I should've known he wouldn't know what that meant but I tried anyway. 

"What did that mean?" 

I take a breath, "more", I say quietly. 

"I'll question that later but right now.." he slides his hands up my shirt and starts to squeeze my chest. Then he leans down to kiss my neck, "I'll give you what you want". His breath on my neck makes me shiver but everything else just makes me a moaning mess. He moves his hips against mine this time and I feel how hard he is which makes me want him more. He lightly plays with my nipples and kisses me with more desperation. He slides his tongue in and we both swirl them around each other. At this point my composure is gone, all I want is for him to fuck me. 

He pulls away leaving a trail of saliva. "You're starting to soak through your shorts ya know". He smirks and gets face to face with me while his hand slides into my underwear to rub my clit. "I don't think I've been teasing you for that long have I? Or are you just that desperate for me"? I'm at my breaking point now. Non-verbal? I don't know her.

"I-I'm that desperate" 

"Oh, so you can talk, good". He stops everything and backs a few inches away from me. "Now I want to know what you're thinking right now, I have a pretty good idea, but I want to hear you say it". 2D gives me a sinister smirk eager for my response. 

I whimper in disapproval from the sudden retraction of pleasure. I sit up and close the gap between us again. "Do you want me to get straight to the point or do you want me to stroke your ego?" 

He chuckles, "Oh I'd love to have a lot of things stroked right now but let's start with my ego". 

"I want to be your plaything, use me however you want to. I'd do anything to feel you inside me. I want you to own me and make me cum", I beg. Every word makes 2D look at me with more and more lust until it looks like he's drunk. "I want to be your personal fuck toy". 

"Fuck I have you wrapped around my finger don't I?" He pushes me down on my back then slides off my shorts and underwear. 

He starts to go for my shirt but I stop him. "Umm I like to keep the shirt on, it's more comfortable for me but you can lift it up". 

He smiles then kisses me. "Okay, love". He lifts up my shirt to expose my chest then he puts his hands on my sides and traces circles with his thumbs. He just stares at my body for a minute then moves down to put his head between my legs. He puts my thighs on his shoulders then looks at me. "You're so pretty y/n". His voice was so soft and gentle. I could tell he really meant it. I don't have time to respond before he kisses up my inner thigh and then lightly bites. I whimper in pleasure but the whimper turns into moans when 2d begins to eat me out. 

He grinds his tongue against my clit which makes me grip his hair. The warm sensation of his tongue moving in small circles and lightly sucking was enough to drive me crazy. The feeling becomes more overwhelming when 2d shoves his tongue in and out of me. I tug on his hair, shoving his face into me more so he can go deeper. I'm such a mess I can't stop moaning. 

Suddenly I feel kisses going up my stomach. 2D gives me a quick kiss then smiles. "I think I've teased you enough today, yeah? Do you want me to finish you off or something?"

"Yes please,.. I need you". 

"Good boy". He starts to get undressed and I couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief that he is somehow hotter than I had imagined. 2D takes notice and chuckles before positioning himself between my legs. I move closer to him so I can feel his dick on my clit then I begin to move my hips up and down his length. 

2D groans and holds my hips. "You're so impatient, I love that you're such a slut for me". I moan in response which makes 2D smirk and slowly puts himself in me. I swear he looks like he's about to cum from just putting it in. 

"Fuck, you feel so good it's damn near intoxicating"

He goes in and out slowly which makes me whimper. It doesn't take him long to pick up the pace and almost slam into me. 2D leans down and starts to lightly lick and suck my nipple. My breathing starts to get heavy. I scratch his back which earns me a very pleasurable groan from 2D. 

"Choke me please".

Apparently, 2D is too lost in the sauce to even question it. He puts one hand around my throat but I take his other hand and put it there too. "Squeeze the sides, don't press down". He nods and surprisingly gets the perfect pressure. I give a big smile at him as he chokes and thrusts into me. This makes him smile back at me then his thrusts get faster and harder. I feel myself tighten up around him signaling that I'm about to cum. I moan a bit too loudly making him give one last deep thrust as he cums in me. Knowing he came in me makes me cum at about the same time as him. 

(INTENSE PART IS OVER) 

2D lays on me and pulls out on the process. His head is in the crook of my neck so I can feel him trying to slow down his breathing. He places his hand on my cheek and traces circles with his thumb. 

"Mmm good boy", he says in a very pleased tone. 

I wrap my arms around him then kiss his cheek. "Thank you, whenever you can, can you please get into my bag and grab new underwear for me please?" 

"Of course, I can get it right now actually". He gets off me then rummages through my bag. He finds a pair then hands them to me. I immediately put them on and get up to use the bathroom. 

 

I come back to see 2D sitting up on the bed looking very concerned. 

"You okay 2D?" I ask as I sit beside him. 

"YOU HAD ME CHOKE YOU, WITH BOTH HANDS".

"Yes, and it was very hot you were perfect, maybe next time you can slap my face" 

"I've never had anyone ask me to choke or smack them!" 

"Oh, is it not your thing?" I ask.

He pauses and thinks for a second. "Well, I did like the smile you gave me and it made me feel like I umm..owned you? Is that okay to say?" 

"I love feeling like I'm owned BUT only in the bedroom, if you try to control me outside of that I'll kick your shit in" 

"...are you sure you want smacked? I don't want to hurt you" 

I laugh and kiss him. "2D it's okay you won't hurt me and if you do I'll like it even more". 

He pushes me down so he can lay on me and hold me again. "Are you 100% sure?" 

I wrap my arms around him. "I'm sure". 

He gives me a quick kiss. "I love you, would you like to go to bed?" 

"I love you too, and yes I'm very tired". 2D smiles and rolls off of me so he can cuddle me close as I fall asleep.

[neverluckygoldfish]

28 -

Well, I feel like shit. Or rather, I feel really apathetic and hopeless and frustrated.

My close friend (my maid of honor) told me she doesn’t want to be part of the wedding or attend it. She’s ghosted me since the “ rock bottom weekend that I can’t talk about”. I’ve tried to open up the door for conversation so she can share with me how she felt and she can be heard, but she hasn’t let it budge an inch. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised - not everyone is entitled to forgive. People can say “that’s your shit, I see it & am proud of you for owning it but I want no part”. I have to respect others where they are at.

I guess I hate that she feels badly (or whatever she feels because truly she hasn’t told me) and that I had a hand in it. Frustrated that I can’t fix it. Guilt that she doesn’t feel comfortable enough in our relationship to have a conversation about it. Hurt that she doesn’t think having a conversation is worth it. I hate that she cared about me - that she put time, effort, and money into planning a weekend for me - and me/the situation made her regret it.

And also I feel irritated and angry that she doesn’t want to talk to me. I like to think I’m a pretty understanding person. What the fuck? Why are people so quick to write someone off and not even let them know the why.

Sounding like a true woe-is-me addict here when I say that but hey, this is my safe space for honesty.

So trying to process that. While still trying to remember to eat, drink water, sleep, not isolate. The LAST fucking thing I want to do right now is go to a meeting. But I’m going and I told a few people so they’d hold my ass accountable.

I’m struggling to remember the basics lately and it’s making me feel pessimistic.

Also, I fell asleep on my arm in a weird position and now it hurts.

I feel tempted to erase any record of me and just start over. But then I feel a sense of “but what if it turns out that no one actually cares?”.

Everyone is about as wrapped up in their head as I am. No one does care. It’s a good thing actually, takes away the spotlight effect. But it’s a bad thing, because it feels like I don’t matter. And if I don’t matter, then what’s the fucking point?

Some positivity in an effort to convince the rude voice in my head that the world isn’t ending, people don’t always leave, I’m a good person even if I don’t get it right every time, that there is a greater point and purpose to it all, that I will find self-assurance and happiness:

Still sober! Day 64.

I did opposite action today from DBT. Instead of isolating and avoiding, I shared my feelings. Now I’m going to this meeting I don’t want to go to.

I checked in with my body: took a shower, drank some water, ate some food (read: NOT candy lol)

My mom said she sees me as my own person now and respects that I make my own choices. That she’s proud of me.

Even though I have one friend who isn’t a fan of me, I have at least 5 other ones who are rooting for me.

My dog loves me and still follows me around even though I got really mad at her and made her feel bad.

I have a roof over my head and food in the fridge. I have enough clothes that I can choose my outfit for the day. I have socks.

Ok so vanity - my acne is pretty much gone & my skin looks great!! The pigmentation is fading.

I’m employable.

We got a beautiful apartment with floor to ceiling windows. I’m moving to a city I have always dreamed of moving to.

I get the opportunity to start over.

I’ve gained some weight and my body isn’t a skeleton any more. I don’t get vertigo every time I stand up.

I can talk myself through a craving until it passes.

I am self-aware. I am kind. I am trying to be a better person every single day. It could be worse right?

Well. That’s where I’m at. Hopefully it gets better.

Each day a little better and brighter except I really don’t feel that shit today and I’m just saying it because I have some hope it’ll work.

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch. 11 (NSFW) (END)

Ch.1 Ch2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

If you are curious to know what my version of Alexia looks like, check here

All maids are dismissed from dinner at night.

The doors are kept sealed shut. It is clear whatever the Dimitrescus are discussing is not for ears outside of their family's to overhear.

You are thankful for the windows you have to focus on repairing while they talk. It keeps you from overthinking and that keeps you sane.

Once everything is fixed, the only physical sign of the nightmarish day you had is Cassandra's sickle, still embedded within what is no doubt a priceless painting.

You approach slowly, as though the weapon has a will of its own and can turn right around to finish the job of gutting you. Your fingers close around the leather handle. The first pull does nothing. The blade is so firmly lodged it won't budge an inch.

But you are nothing if not determined.

That is what you busy yourself with until you see a familiar fly come to land on your shoulder. It doesn't cut at your flesh, but it does bite and tug on your shirt. You understand the silent command to follow.

The insect leads you to the dining room. The table is cleaned, but the daughters are all still there, talking in hushed tones among themselves, poker faces adorning their expressions.

Three sets of yellowish eyes immediately fall to the sickle in your hand. Bela raises an amused eyebrow. The redhead whistles. "That looks sexy on you~"

"Can't imagine it would look as good in me." You give Cassandra a pointed look as you pull the chair beside her, but she only shrugs and leans back, motioning for you to hand it over.

"No... did you throw it at her?" Daniela guffaws. "And you missed?"

A sour grimace comes from the brunette. "I wasn't trying that hard..."

"What if I hadn't dodged?" you ask.

"...well. It's good that you did." Cassandra looks down at her manicured nails, as apologetic as she'll let herself be in front of her sisters.

"Do I want to know what was hit instead of Alexia?" Bela carefully asks.

"You really don't." Cassandra shakes her head and they leave it at that for both their sake.

"So." Bela speaks up after a brief moment of silence. "After our discussion with mother, we are to inform you that you're free to come and go from the castle as you please. Cassandra's key is as much hers as it is yours, now. But. Should any other maid escape using it or learn of our weakness, we'll have to do something nobody here wants."

"We'll have to brutally murder you to make an example. And whoever knows." Daniela cuts in and Cassandra gives her a glare. You aren’t looking forward to learning what their interpretation of the word ‘brutal’ is like.

"Yeah I... I could have guessed that." you reply.

"But I'm sure you're smart enough to not let that happen." Bela states. "This settles everything, I think."

"Not everything." Cassandra retorts, a shadow around her eyes.

"Cassandra, drop it. You heard what mother said." The blonde's tone grows harsh.

"What did she say, other than what we already knew?" comes the sharp bite back. "Why is she so vague every time one of us asks how we came to be?"

"I'm sure she has a good reason. What does it even matter about before?"

"Because I'm sick of having nightmares about people I don't remember!" Cassandra slams her hands onto the table. Both you and Daniela flinch back a bit.

You could have already guessed Alcina is not their biological mother. But a lot of puzzle pieces fall into place before your eyes now. And this new picture you're starting to see of the Dimitrescu family isn't a pretty one at all.

The tension between the two siblings is enough to electrify the air around the table.

"Did you ever consider it's probably for the best that you never do remember them?" Bela asks, her irritation ice-cold as opposed to Cassandra's sizzling fire. "Maybe there's a reason nightmares are all that's left."

You can see your lover's jaw clench. Cassandra's fingers curl into white-knuckled fists as she sits back down. "Don't you get these flashes? These almost-memories?"

"No." Bela says as she stands to leave. "I don't get them. And even if I did, I don't much care for leftovers."

"Daniela?" Cassandra asks, turning to her younger sister.

"I uh... I gotta go do a... thing. Bye now!" The redhead disperses into a swarm right there, before any more can be said.

Cassandra huffs in an exasperated, 'of course' manner. Only the two of you are left in the gigantic room, but you're not sure if you should speak up. You're not exactly confident in your ability to comfort others, nor can you tell where she and you currently stand. It doesn't look like either of you has the energy for any type of loaded talk.

You need each other, that much is as certain as the sun’s rise and fall.

And that's enough, for now.

-

-

Within the next few days, Cassandra and you take your time gravitating back together.

You let the thought of her ripping you in half slowly bleed away and she probably does the same with the notion of you using her weakness against her.

It starts with little touches, on your shoulder or your hand, as you make plans to spend a night or two in your house at the village once the temperature allows it.

Then one evening she comes to your room complaining about Daniela just like the old times and it feels only natural to rub her back like you used to.

Cassandra leans into you like a purring cat.

"Oh, you're so warm..." she sighs, resting her head atop your shoulder.

Absent-mindedly, you bring your travelling fingers up to her nape, pressing at a tiny knot of tension there with your thumb. A little moan slips past her lips –you're aware of just how close to touching your neck they are– and it hits you straight in the gut. You've missed drawing these sounds out of her.

Cassandra shifts against you and every minuscule brush of her lithe form on yours brings sparks to life. Her finger reaches under your chin to tip it her way.

"If you want us to stop here I need to leave now." she speaks with that impatience in the edges of her voice you recognize well.

"What happens if you stay?" you ask. It's not just your body warming at the thought of keeping her close.

"Don't tempt me, Alexia." Her lower lip just barely traces yours as she says it. "I'm not good at resisting and you know it."

You know it. Maybe that's why you tempt her with another almost-kiss in the first place. You could never deny how badly you wanted her and that certainly hasn't changed.

Cassandra crashes your mouths together hungrily, like she's been left without it for too long and now she can't go another second without having you. Her leg crosses over yours to lift herself into straddling you, two strong thighs bracketing your hips tight.

She's trying, you can tell, to not tear both your clothes off and have what she craves hard and fast and right there.

You keep a smirk to yourself when you slip your tongue into her mouth and unhook the buttons of her outfit extra slow. Her nails press into your shoulders. You refuse to speed up.

"Can you go any faster?" she breathily pants once you trail your lips to her neck.

"I can." you say. And lightly bite her.

She's one step away from ripping your shirt off, you can tell from how her fingers curl on the fabric. So you make the smarter choice and distract her with another little bite where you know she likes it best, just underneath her ear, then guide her clothes off of her.

Cassandra pushes you back into the mattress and kisses you again while her cool hands make short work of your clothes. You let her grind her hips into you for some measure of relief as you continue to suck and nibble on her flushed, sensitive skin. Her hands find purchase on your sheets when she no longer trusts her control to have them on you.

"Will you touch me already?" she growls into your ear. You can feel how badly she needs it from the way she shakes on every caress near her center, but this is your payback for that sickle throw.

"I am." you give her a smirk, then lightly push a fingertip into tight, wet heat to cut off her response.

"Ah. I— fuck Alexia!" You've never heard her curse before. And you can't figure out why it's so sinfully hot. “Oh, yes, darling, there!”

As much as she deserves to be tormented for the fright she gave you, you can hardly contain your own lust when she's moving on top of you like this, calling you ‘darling’ and hers.

Both of you come undone not long after, gripping at each other, her soft cries of pleasure filling the room until she lowers her head over your heart, completely spent.

Your fingers gently comb through her wavy hair. For quite some time, Cassandra looks so relaxed you think she has fallen asleep on you.

Until she lifts her head up and nuzzles your jawline, in a way she probably knows kills you every time she does it. Her teeth trap your earlobe. That spells trouble even before she speaks up:

"You didn't think one round would do it, did you? After all, I have yet to pay you back for sneaking into my room and stealing my key, darling…"

Well.

It turns out you won a battle and started a war that lasts throughout the night. And it's only the first, you're sure, of many to come.

For once in your life, you can't wait for what's next.

[fairestwriting]

heartslabyul index

all

with s/o who's reckless with their own safety

riddle rosehearts

soulmate au

reaction to reader falling asleep under a tree

reaction to crush describing their type like in guy.exe

reaction to innocent crush singing touch you

vil's reaction to reader (his younger sister) dating him

setting reader up with his vice dorm leader but falling for them in the process*

with vampire s/o who's craving his blood

with s/o who plays a lot of otome games

with reader who's always surrounded by cats

having a crush on a hopeless romantic fem reader

reaction to malleus simping for someone

reaction to yuu sleeping with a body pillow of him

with cyber goth s/o

how he would be like as a brother

comforting tired s/o with cuddles

s/o gets amnesia and falls for someone else

catching his crush checking him out

reaction to yuu crying because he reminds them of their older sibling

with s/o who sings suddenly like a disney princess

with s/o who's taking care of a cat that oddly resembles him and rivals him getting all of s/o's affection

jade and floyd's reaction reader (their little sister) dating him

watching a disney classic with him

carnival date with his s/o

with s/o who's similar to morticia addams

poly relationship between trey, riddle, chenya and reader

receiving handmade gift from s/o

with s/o who despises tea and prefers coffee

with s/o who loves and makes good tea

playing the pocky game with his s/o

reacting to s/o wearing a maid outfit

crushing on vice dorm leader's sister

with tall and flirty fem s/o

wearing a maid dress

with himbo mc

finding out crush is related to the queen of hearts

makeout session with lipstick stains

with gentle giant boyfriend

visiting mc's world

reaction mc slapping his mother

fem s/o distracts him from studying with kisses

being tsundere for fem crush

getting a goodnight kiss from yuu

being hit by spell that makes him hold his crush's hand for hours

finding s/o's drawings of him

with s/o who doesn't put effort into celebrating their birthday

trey clover

riddle's reaction to reader (his younger sister) dating him*

lilia and silver's reaction to reader (also lilia's child) dating him

setting reader up with his dorm leader and falling for them in the process

kissing fem s/o who's too cute for her own good

with patient and affectionate s/o

getting back together with his ex

poly relationship between trey, riddle, chenya and reader

with cuddly fem s/o

with delinquent-looking s/o who somehow carries themselves elegantly

realizing he has a crush

ace trappola

older sibling-like reader

riddle's reaction to reader (his younger sister) dating him*

with a reader who's overprotective of grim

reaction to s/o ruffling his hair

getting caught checking out fem crush

reaction to fem reader cutting off most of her hair

"if we're single by 30, let's get married"*

with very photogenic/videogenic fem mc

jade and floyd's reaction to reader (their little sister) dating him

reaction to usually nonchalant s/o getting flustered

with tomboy fem s/o

with shy, socially awkward s/o

mc shows him popular music from their world

with parental figure mc who's tired of their antics

reaction to being drawn

reacting to seeing reader cry

deuce spade

older sibling-like reader

riddle's reaction to reader (his younger sister) dating him*

with a reader who's overprotective of grim

getting caught checking out fem crush

with physically affectionate s/o

reaction to fem reading cutting off most of her hair

with small but very strong s/o

getting a massage from his s/o

"if we're single by 30, let's get married"*

with very photogenic/videogenic mc

mc shows him popular music from their world

with parental figure mc who's tired of their antics

bridal carrying fem s/o who sprained her ankle

with motorcycle racer male s/o

reaction to being drawn

reacting to seeing reader cry

cater diamond

riddle's reaction to reader (his younger sister) dating him*

malleus' reaction to reader (his younger sister) dating him

getting caught checking out fem crush

with feline beastman s/o

with patient and affectionate s/o

yuu showing him music from their world

opening up to his s/o

reaction to usually nonchalant s/o getting flustered

with cuddly fem s/o

bridal carrying fem s/o who sprained her ankle

with fem s/o who can't handle cold

helping his friend get over a cheating ex

[normadeathmond]

the spanish princess ep 3 thoughts

(now with pictures!)

this week was surprisingly silly for an episode named ‘grief’, and indulging in entertainingly dumb historical shenanigans is when this show is at it’s most enjoyable. comments, complaints and lots of poking fun inside.

- i am not the biggest fan of charlotte hope’s performance in this series, but i thought she did good here, showing catherine fighting her grief before putting on a brave face. i do think she would do better in the role if catherine wasn’t written as such a cardboard strong woman™ all the time. 

- lmao i love wolsey and how low-key hammy phil cumbus is playing him, you can tell he’s having a whale of a time

- political genius maggie pole, everyone

- love that catherine’s seduction technique is to bring up wolsey, there rlly are three people in this marriage

- what even was that scene - catherine pressuring henry for sex, him calling blow jobs unnatural and then trying wank off to the sight of her neck (was that supposed to be a hint at him beheading his later wives)?? rip to whatever got left on the cutting floor to make room for that nonsense

- blah blah blah the scots are violent and barbaric, lather rinse repeat. i am always distracted by how there is not even one nursery maid in the whole of scotland

- i enjoy catherine dunking on the name barnaby, it deserves it. (surely one of them babies should be named henry after the king?)

- given that there’s a reference later on to thomas more being a great favourite of henry’s, why isn’t he hanging out in these council scenes? i’m sure he can still eyefuck maggie pole while also dispensing sound advice. and is howard just gone forever now? i was hoping he’d stick around as catherine’s begrudging ally

- his smug little face! perfection!

- ursula, possessor of this show’s singular brain cell: marrying for political power and monetary gain? sign me up!

- jokes aside, this was a good scene. i like that ursula isn’t portrayed as greedy, but instead someone who’s realistic about what she wants from life based on her family’s experiences so far, even if she is a little naïve to think money and titles will protect her absolutely. i also liked that maggie’s objections weren’t so much “but twu love!” as much as “but maybe find someone you can stand to be around for twenty years of marriage”

- catherine: i am a political genius   also catherine: *can’t keep a straight face in public for two seconds*

- honestly catherine is a real shitty friend. i get that she’s struggling, but calling lina’s kids “ordinary children” like they don’t matter and her bitchy “you’re having a girl” last episode is such mean girl behaviour. 

- the great scottish babysitter shortage of 1515 continues

- hahaha of course the one good scot™ is a raging anglophile

- also why is angus being written as such a literal angel? he’s going to have to turn into a prick at some point

- if catherine can hire lina some wet nurses do you think she can throw a few coins meg’s way for a nanny?

- please can all of catherine’s scenes just be her and wolsey cattily sniping at one another

- i really dislike how in order to make catherine seem smart everyone else has to be clueless - first advising maggie pole on how to petition the king like she’s new to court and then being the one to suggest mary pick her second husband. it’s a weak way to prop up an under-written heroine. 

- my baby ;_; (georgie really is shining as an actress this season)

- this part was very cute, i like their squabbling childhood friends with secret deep romantic feelings dynamic. i thought we would get more of mary this episode though :(

- the court musician is the babysitter now? pay one female extra to hold the baby, i beg you

- sorry to my girl meg but this speech/sing-a-long was bad. this show is just not good at the rousing speeches.

- guess everyone’s going on a road trip to france! the whole royal fam taking a nice holiday to recently enemy territory seems totally believable! 

- seasick wolsey is the highlight of this episode

- maggie: all creatures crave union, there’s nothing fanciful about it ♫ you and me baby ain’t nothing but mammals ♫

- ARE these two gonna fuck?? i genuinely thought it wouldn’t go beyond a lot of angsty longing looks because matthew graham compared their plotline to remains of the day and laura carmichael said something like “it’s the incredibly religious, pious people’s version of a steamy romance”, but uhhh their horny little convo in the coach is starting to make me wonder if thomas more’s cold bed isn’t going to get a little warmer in a few episodes

- also i was hoping more’s marriage would be portrayed as two pals who got married for convenience rather than his wife being painted as a prude who denies him sex

- this dress 😍 also, her face 😍

- i can’t tell if maggie is an impatient idiot or a genius who figured henry would give her everything she wanted out of spite if she said catherine told her he wouldn’t (i give this show too much credit, it’s definitely the former)

- i know groom of the king’s stool is an easy thing to dunk on for a modern audience but the royal arse wiper was a very trusted and intimate friend of the king who commanded a lot of royal favour, so maybe hop off your high horse maggie

- tudor sexpert maggie pole: don’t say yes yet, sweetie, u gotta check if you’re hot for him first   ursula: please stop talking 

- i hate myself for loving them

- i like that even though compton is an awkward, slightly creepy weirdo, his crush on maggie does seem 100% genuine. i assume he’s going to get entangled in the henry/anne hastings affair next ep and that’ll let maggie wriggle out of the betrothal somehow?

-not this show making me feel sorry for henry. i like that they’re giving him human feelings about the loss of his children and ruairi is giving a great performance. 

- this was really the best french accent they could find? but mary attempting death by pillow fight was hilarious

- no one:   bessie: your grace, I do believe charlie brandon is truly sex on legs

- lina seems absolutely terrified that she pissed off catherine, a very healthy friendship dynamic there!

- shouldn’t wolsey have a swankier outfit now that he’s an archbishop?

[tonystarkbingo]

Title Prompt Game - Tags and Summaries

like a warm blanket - suggested by @rebelmeg

@somesortofitalianroast - fluff, snowed in, only one bed

@huntress79 - There's a reason Tony loves being in the workshop - but not the one most think it is. No, it's not that he knows the place blind, or that he loves (even craves) the attention the bots give him - no, it's because it's his safe harbor, the only place where he can really be him, and the one place that is to Tony what a warm blanket on a cold day is to other people.

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Steve never liked the cold, ever since he was little. But after the ice? He loathed it. It always brought up feelings and memories he'd rather keep buried. ~ Or the five times Steve struggled to find something to keep him warm at night, and the time he learned he could just use Tony.

@jamesbuckystark - Tony Stark has self-esteem issues. Only the closest of the closest of his friends know this. On his bad days, they cuddle up with him and whisper words of love and encouragement, comforting him like a warm blanket

@psychiccatpanda - [potential ironhusbands] Tony hadn’t worried when Rhodey’d fallen asleep on his shoulder during movie night.  His sour patch had been burning the candle at both ends lately splitting his time between DC and New York.  But then Rhodey had draped an arm over him and now he was stuck there unless he disturbed him.  On the other hand, it wasn’t that bad... it was cozy - like a warm blanket

@rebelmeg - self-esteem issues, sincere compliments, love confessions

@huntress79 - (WinterIron pre-Relationship) If there's one thing Bucky learned about Howard's boy in the first few weeks he was living in the Tower it was Tony's stubbornness, by times as worse as Steve's. So, of course, Bucky watched the genius. And was the first to notice something off - Tony was getting a cold, and he was fighting it. He just didn't expect the former Winter Soldier, of all people, to bring him chicken soup, warm blankets, a cot and a gazillion of other things into the workshop. Huh - who would have guessed that?

@lbibliophile-mcu - [recovering-bucky] Living with Steve was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Nice on cold evenings, soft and comforting. But sometimes, it can also be confining, smothering. Sometimes, what he needs instead is the freedom of cold air.

Keep reading for more!

Cappuccino, extra shot - suggested by @somesortofitalianroast

@huntress79 - (Road to Stony XD) Despite working as a Barista in a coffee shop, Steve never really liked all the fancy coffees he made for the customers. Until one day, when torrential rain sweeps a new customer into the shop - hot, elegant, smart-mouthed and way above Steve's league. And pretty much the only guy in all of Manhattan to always order the same thing - Cappuccino, with an extra shot of (insert ingredient of choice)...

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Tony would never be seen dead walking into a coffee shop. Why would he go for overvalued, overcooked, too sweet coffee when he has the best beans imported and prepared by his very own live-in barista? He has access to the best coffee 24/7. But his barista goes on parental leave, and Tony finds that brewing his own coffee, isn't one of his many talents. So, if he is to get his daily fix, he has to go to a coffee shop. Tony is miserable about the whole situation, that is until he meets an art student called Steve working to pay his way through college.

@psychiccatpanda - (pre-WinterIron) It wasn’t a difficult drink to make.  So why was it that this guy never made his cappuccino right?  Tony frowned into the froth on top.  And part of the fun of going to a coffee shop and buying cappuccino was seeing what kind of foam design you’d get.  This guy - James, according to his name tag - apparently only knew how to make hearts.  Come on.  Tony walked back to the counter to complain again. Behind the counter, Bucky could feel Natasha’s eyes on him like a dagger between his shoulder blades.  He’d done it again, just to talk to his most gorgeous customer... who also thought he was an idiot.

@lbibliophile-mcu - "aw, coffee, no" Clint stares despondently at the paper takeaway cup in his hand, the scalding brown liquid running over his wrist to drip on the floor. When he ordered a cappuccino double shot, this was not what he meant. Another loud gunshot echoes in the street outside. Chugging the remaining elixir, he throws the ruined cup in a bin, wipes his hand on his pants, and grabs his bow. Looks like he has a coffee to avenge.

@rebelmeg -  tags: coffee shops, love at first sight, awkward flirting

Bitch boy - suggested by @phoenixmetaphor3000

@tehroserose - tags: BDSM, humiliation, consensual nonconsent

@somesortofitalianroast - [Tony/Bucky] : au: sex work, au: camboys, au: bdsm

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - He was Tony Stark's bitch. Everything else didn't matter. Everything else was stripped away by his Master, his Sir. 100 odd years on this earth, and he finally found his place... and it was at his master's feet.

@summerpipedream - "Excuse you??" screeched Tony. He shoved his paper cup, somehow already devoid of the coffee poured in there 5 seconds ago, into Rhodey's hands before he launches himself at the asshole yellling at them. 5 times Tony was called a bitch and the one time he actually did something about it.

@tehroserose Winterironfalcon- Tony was his bitch. And that's the way he liked it. But, still, he was going to take care of his boy, in his way. And Tony had a fantasy. He wanted to be taken by a stranger, a stranger who didn't listen when he said no. Sam wasn't willing to give him to a stranger. But Bucky? Bucky looked at his bitch with longing. And Sam trusted Bucky. And Tony? Tony didn't need to trust Bucky to do anything other than to listen to Sam and his safeword. And Tony liked it that way. (Tag: Porn with feelings, It was just sex, (no it wasn't), established Sam/Tony, pre Sam/Tony/Bucky)

@huntress79 - (Stony secret relationship) Ever since they fought the Chitauri, everyone knows that Tony and Steve barely get along. Sure, they got a bit better after Tony's almost death, but yeah, it could be better. But then, one morning, the Avengers are shocked to hear Tony calling Steve "Bitch" and - even more shocking - Steve replying with "Jerk" What the heck is going on now? (the Bitch-Jerk exchange is borrowed from Supernatural XD)

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - He hated Alphas so much. He hasn't ever met one that had a single good intention in their life. All they ever did was take and destroy. This he learned first hand when he was 15 in a back ally after saving Dorothy Elliott from a couple of Alphas. It didn't matter that he was an Alpha himself, he was small and Omega enough for them, a "Bitch Boy". Steve Rogers hated Alphas and was sure he always would. But then he met Tony Stark and his whole world changed... (Tags: Implied/Referenced R*pe, Alpha/Alpha Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Tony Stark has a Heart, Falling in Love)

@psychiccatpanda - Tony had been called worse before - much worse.  He'd asked Natasha to be his date for the conference because the Avengers thought he needed a bodyguard for an International Energy Council conference.  At least she didn't look like a bodyguard. Justin Hammer had been trying to get his attention for a day and a half when he'd yelled it loud enough for a ballroom full of people to hear.  He saw red and turned to do something rash (like break Hammer's nose) when he felt a strong hand on his wrist.  Tony twisted around to snap at Nat when she pulled him in for a kiss.  Suddenly, swift and blinding vengeance didn't seem quite so important.

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Steve Rogers loses a bet with Tony, now he was at Tony's every beck and call. Steve and Tony's relationship is strained as it is, he's not sure it'll make it through this. Tony was milking it for what it was worth; making him wear the maid outfit, making him pick up things he dropped, fetching him drinks. Then Tony goes ahead and calls him "bitch boy" He expected to be fuming, insulted, angry, hurt... but Steve finds he actually likes it. Both are shocked. Maybe they'll make it through this feeling closer than ever before.

Make Thyme for what you Love - suggested by @darthbloodorange

@rebelmeg - pepperony, gardening, fluff

@tehroserose - (Steve and Tony friendship fic)- Steve had grown up with the song. A version of the song at least. His mother said it was the only thing the English had given worth a damn. When he heard Scarborough Fair by Simon and Garfunkel, he cried. Tony watched the tough soldier break down. And right then, he knew he was going to make the time to do something he had promised himself he would do. He was going to find a picture of Sarah Rogers.

@psychiccatpanda - (pre-Stuckony) - When he'd told Pepper why he had hired BarRo Gardening and Landscape Service to care for the plants in the Tower, she'd laughed so hard she'd almost fallen out of her desk chair. 'BarRo Gardening and Landscape Service: Lettuce take care of your plants!  Our prices and services can't be beet!  We also offer sage advice on selecting the best plants for any office environment.' "They offer sage advice, Pep!  How am I supposed to resist that?"

@somesortofitalianroast - Bruce wants to start a garden and put beehives on the top of Stark Tower. Tony reluctantly agrees. Bucky thinks it would be a good idea if he helps. The garden starts out small, mostly herbs and a few easier to care for plants, and grows as Bucky grows more confident in his gardening skills.

@huntress79 - (Stuckony modern AU) At first, Tony hadn't understood why both Steve and Bucky handed him a pot with what turned out to be a thyme plant right before shipping out to their last tour. Sure, it had a nice smell, and wasn't that hard to look after (JARVIS turned out to be as diligent as an auxiliary gardener as in everything else). But then, the plants become so much more - for Tony, it's a promise from "his" soldiers to come back to him. For Steve and Bucky, it's proof that Tony takes care of it - and of himself, despite their absence.

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Steve was sceptical when Bruce approached him with the idea of 'Therapeutic Gardening', but he trusted the man and went along with it. He admits it was nice to put aside some time for something that wasn't reports, training, team-building, or learning this new world. Something that wasn't work, something that didn't feel like this uphill battle that he had to fight alone. Unlike everything else in his schedule, he didn't have to work himself up to taking care of his plants. It became a thing after missions, for Steve to sit by his plants and water them, to confide in them. He slowly grows his collection over the months. But he starts to notice new plants in his collection, ones he didn't get himself, but he tends to them anyway. ~ Tony has been trying to look after the plants Bruce gave him, really. But will all the work on his plate he often forgets. But he tries. He notices some of his plants going missing. Plants that he was sure weren't dead the last time he checked on them, which might not be saying much... But he's sure someone has been stealing his plants. And he's going to find out who. ~ Bruce loves gardening, there were so many benefits it offered. It became a personal mission of his to get as many people into gardening as he could. However, he understands that maybe gardening wasn't everyone's thing. Bruce understands when Tony can't keep up with the maintenance of his plants. But he wasn't going to sit around and watch them suffer. So he gathers up those of Tony's plants that need a little more love and slips them into Steve's collection. ------------- (Tags: Accidental Matchmaking, Idiots in Love, Gardening, Team as Family)  

Speak of the Devil - suggested by @psychiccatpanda

@somesortofitalianroast - Lucifer crossover : Tony had heard the expression so many times, in multiple languages. “Speak of Devil and he shall appear.” He just never expected it to literally happen.

@rebelmeg - tags: hades and persephone au, greek mythology, merchant of death, unlikely lovers (i'm imagining it pepperony, but it could go a lot of ways)

@tehroserose - Tony was going to kill... well, when he figured out who had left that magical artifact behind, he was going to kill them. Because apparently, and why hadn't Thor been there earlier to tell them this?, the first dead person mentioned in front of the artifact came back. Temporarily, but who knew for how long? And guess what? Steve had mentioned Howard. Actually, Tony wanted to kill Steve for that, except he'd never breathed a word near Steve of what Howard was really like. He hadn't wanted to ruin Howard in Steve's eyes, for Steve's sake. Now Howard was going to ruin himself in those eyes. Tony braced himself as the mean, belittling words that he'd thought he wouldn't have to hear in that voice again came thundering into his ears.

@psychiccatpanda - Tony believed in science not all the hocus pocus the sorority sisters had been whispering about in not-so-hushed tones in the library while he and Rhodey had been trying to study. "I heard if you look in a mirror and say his name three times, he'll appear to kill your worst enemy." Pft - ridiculous.  He'd prove there wasn't anything to that stupid urban legend.

@darthbloodorange - [Pre-Stuckony] - Steve and Tony never talked about Howard. Ever. It was probably one of few things that keep their tenuous friendship moving along smoothly. but then Bucky came into the picture... and seemed to have a lot to say about Howard. Things started to click together, suddenly he was seeing the full picture. Howard always was an ass. Steve wasn't choosing not to talk about him out of respect for Tony, he didn't talk about Howard because the man was unpleasant to talk about. Tony listened, totally enthralled and vindicated, as Bucky regaled him with tailed of his father. About all the times Howard discredited Steve's intelligence in front of high-ranking Military figureheads, pressured him into testing, belittled Steve for his time in the USO, and ignored Bucky existence as he was just "Steve's tiresome tag-along pup" Turns out the three of them had a lot more in common than he'd initially thought. ------------- (Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Give Everyone A Damn Hug, Still Salty at Howard in that CA:FA Deleted Scene)

[fandom-smut-shots]

I don’t know if you currently taking requests but can you do Nsfw alphabet for Yuki Sohma from Fruits Basket. It’s fine if you can’t

Yes, I am taking requests! Aww, Yuki is a sweetheart. 

We just gonna ignore the turn-into-an-animal-via-contact-from-the-opposite-sex thing. Let my rat boy have his sexy times.

Yuki Sohma

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Extremely intimate and cuddly. He adores holding you close, kissing your head and combing his fingers through your hair.

B - Body Part (their favorite body part of yours)

Your neck. He loves peppering kisses across your skin and brushing his fingers along your collar bone while you’re making love.

C - Cum (Anything to do with it)

He’s a little shy when things get messy. He’ll usually suggest a shower to clean up after a round. 

D - Dirty Secret

He loves trying new places to make love, though he’s partially afraid of getting caught.

E - Experience

You’re his first. He never felt a connection with anyone until he met you.

F - Favorite Position

Sitting up while you ride him. He craves wrapping his arms around your waist, running his hands over your back, burying his face in your neck while he’s sheathed inside you.

G - Goofy (how serious are they in the moment)

He giggles easily, and it helps to put you both at ease when your nerves are high.

H - Hair (how groomed are they)

Natural and unruly. He didn’t know that grooming pubes was a thing.

I - Intimacy (how romantic are they)

Rose petals, candles, soft music - he loves it. Sometimes the petals may be dead and the candles might melt all over the dresser and the CD will skip but at least he tries.

J - Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

At first he felt guilty getting off to thoughts of you, but as you became more intimate, he felt more natural about it.

K - Kink

Roleplay/cosplay. He kept some of the lolita dresses and maid outfits he was forced to model and makes use of them in the bedroom.

L - Location (favorite place to have sex)

In the shower. He loves the warm water pouring over you as he pins you to the tile wall.

M - Motivation (turn ons)

Anything. Wear a dress, hold his thigh, kiss his neck. Boy is weak.

N - No (What will they absolutely not do)

Exhibitionism. The thrill of potentially getting caught is one thing, but he’s not comfortable actually being watched.

O - Oral (skills, prefer giving or receiving)

Ride his face and he. will. die. Making you writhe and moan for his tongue drives him absolutely insane. 

P - Pace (slow and sensual, fast and rough, etc)

Slow and sensual all the way.

Q - Quickie (how they stack up against proper sex)

He prefers actual sex. Quickies are too rushed.

R - Risk (do they like to experiment)

He’s hesitant because baby is shy and inexperienced, but he trusts you and anything you want to do.

S - Stamina (how long can they last)

Not very long, honestly. He’s still building is stamina.

T - Toys (do they like/use toys?)

If he comes first, he’ll use toys to finish you off. Of course, if you want to use toys during, he’s absolutely down.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s not much of a tease himself, but he will not stop you from teasing him.

V - Volume (how loud they are)

He tries very hard to be quiet like he’s not supposed to moan, but when he comes he exhales the hottest, breathiest whine.

W - Wild Card (random dirty headcanon)

The first time you went down on him, he about passed out. Boy’s never been loved so intimately and it nearly killed him.

X - X-ray (what’s in their pants)

Not very long but fairly thick.

Y -Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

It depends on how long it’s been. When you’re together frequently, he slows down. If it’s been a few weeks, he’s ready for a marathon.

Z - ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep)

Fairly quickly. He’s a tired boy anyway, so satisfactory sex will knock him out.

[hollandroos]

The Price We Pay | Six

Series Masterlist

Summary: A one night stand was all it took for your entire life to change. You’re shoved into unknown territory, agreeing to fake date the prince long enough for his parents and the media to get off of his back only there are a few issues… one of them being that you really can’t stand each other.

Words: 2.2k

Tom crept back into his room at around seven am.

The castle had been dead silent, his parents having left a few hours earlier for a flight and Harrison was still buried beneath layers of his own sheets. Toms back aches slightly from sleeping on the couch compared to his extravagant bed but he hadn’t minded.

He glanced in, opening the door a crack before seeing you were still asleep and crept in. Originally he had only wanted to grab a change of clothing from his draws but he couldn’t help but glance over for a second.

Your hair was sprawled over your face, duvet pulled up to your shoulders and you looked so content. So carefree. But Tom knew that the second you woke up you’d be in pain but for the life of him he didn’t think to grab any painkillers.

He remembers your small moment last night. It was a quality moment, you were only inches apart and he was so tempted just to close the gap– that damned gap. And he swore that he saw you glancing down at his lips too but wasn’t positive. Tom shakes his head, squinting in the dark before he turns and leaves– closing the door with a small thud.

That night Tom had had a dream. He had a dream that the two of you were together in Paris and it was beautiful. You were overlooking the Eiffel tower, as cliche as it sounded, and you were free from the pestering of paparazzi and royal fans and people trying to catch you out doing something you shouldn’t have been doing.

You were carefree and in a rather extravagant dress, but it was one you had picked out instead of one that's been chosen for you. But the most important detail? In the back of his pocket sat a box.

It was one of those dreams that woke him up in a hurry and left confusion written all over his face– and a hole in his chest.

You woke up that morning engulfed by sheets and a thick, almost cloud-like duvet.

Maybe it was a little too much because a thin layer of sweat covered your body but the more you kicked at the sheets in an attempt to get them off, the more you noticed the fact that your head was pounding and a familiar, sick feeling sat at the very back of your throat just waiting.

Not even the silk pillowcase that in no way belonged to you could hide the feeling of nausea that overcame you, hitting like a train and it no longer mattered that the sheets had you cocooned like a butterfly, or that the bed itself was so comfortable that you swore you never wanted to leave because in a second they were thrown off and you were diving out, racing towards the connected room that one could only hope was a bathroom with a hand over your mouth.

Luckily it was and in a second you were emptying your stomach of the alcohol and shrimp you’d dined on the night before. You grimaced at the smell and the strands of hair that fell over your face, wishing you’d tied them back beforehand. It was revolting.

You felt gross, smelt gross, most likely looked gross too. You could only imagine the makeup smeared down your cheeks and lipstick staining your chin and good god your hair. But not everybody could wake up looking like snow white.

You flushed the toilet, eyeing the grand shower a few meters away and with no hesitation slip the dress off– that was a task in itself, taking huffs as you tugged at the straps and the waist hugging material. You peeled it off with much of a struggle, trying to ignore the pounding headache as it hit the floor. You nearly fell over once or twice.

The water ran down your spine, washing away any traces of makeup and knots from the night before. You felt much cleaner. Never in a million years did you imagine showering in a room that was worth probably more then your entire place combined. The shower itself held hundreds of intricate designs and you traced as many as you could as the water cascaded over your shoulders.

The taps attached to the sink were gold and whether or not it was real or not? You had a small hunch. And the toilet that you’d thrown up in… yeah.

After around ten or so minutes, you turn the water off, letting out a sigh as you stretch your shoulders and wrap towel just above your breasts. The only clothing you had was the dress you’d worn last night and that didn’t seem appealing. So of course, you go searching through Toms draws hoping he wouldn’t mind and come out with a hoodie and sweats.

Now, this probably wasn’t the best thing to wear in the castle but it was either that or continue to walk around with a towel wrapped above your breasts. Plus, you wanted to see Tom's reaction… wherever he was. Maybe you stopped for a split second and breathed in the scent of his cologne on the clothing, rocking your feet back and forth as the sweats hugged your ankles but that was it.

You didn’t search through his things, not even thinking about invading his privacy because you weren’t a bad person. While he had bothered you immensely, you had been welcomed into his home– allowed to sleep in his bed and you were thankful.

You pad down the stairs, stretching your arms as you wander. You gave the maids smiles as you went, small waves at those that waved to you. Some uttered good morning. You would’ve stopped to talk if it weren’t for the fact that your head was still pounding and you were totally in the mood to down a glass of orange juice.

Maybe you got a little lost along the way, having to stop and try and retrace your steps back to the week before but you managed to find your way to the dining room eventually. Any longer and you swore you would’ve gone mad.

Tom stood talking to Harrison. They were both laughing, crinkles forming beneath Toms' eyes and you didn’t want to interrupt but tapped him on the shoulder. The royal meets your gaze and smiles even wider if possible.

“Morning, how do you feel?”

You shrug.

“Head hurts, I don’t even remember drinking last night.” He tries not to chuckle at your misfortune but can't when you lean into him. You did it almost on instinct, craving some kind of physical affection after the night before.

It shocked Tom– just how you learned in, head resting on his shoulder but he welcomed the act, one arm going around your shoulders. Harrison smiled from his place only a few steps away. He felt like a matchmaker, even if nothing serious had happened yet.

“Y-yeah, you drank quite a bit last night. It wasn’t that boring was it?” He jumps over his own words at the start and feels his cheeks redden. Tom felt that he already knew the answer to the question.

“All I remember is you asking to kiss me which by the way– gross.” You screw your face up, Harrison snorts but doesn’t say anything.

Inching out of his arms, Tom eyes the outfit, trying to ignore your remark. He noticed his sweats and his shirt and no longer felt bad about not leaving you a change of clothing. You notice his gaze.

“Oh yeah I uh, borrowed some of your clothes, I hope that’s okay.” You suddenly grow nervous and lace your fingers together. “It was either this or a towel.”

“No, it’s fine! You look good.”

You notice how Tom looks down, how he can barely make eye contact with you and he seems to be finding his fingers more interesting then you. It’s clear that something is wrong whether it’s awkwardness after the night before or he was purely not a morning person. Maybe it was something else but you find yourself screwing your face up as an awkward silence sits between the three of you.

For a second it doesn’t feel fake. Everything feels real and you like it. You convince yourself it’s just the feeling of having someone there and shrugs it off.

Harrison goes and takes a seat at the table, leaving with an awkward cough, glancing at Tom and moving his brows in a way that tells you Tom had something to tell you– or say in general.

“What’s wrong?” You question, bunching the ends of the hoodie around your wrists.

Tom didn’t want the good to end but he was plagued. He knew this would come out one way or another.

“My parents.” He sighs. “My dad, more so, wasn’t impressed after last night.”

You scoff and shrug your shoulders. Sometimes you forgot that part of the deal was to please his uptight parents. “Oh well. I had fun while it lasted and I think you did too. Didn’t you?”

“Y/n.” He stops you. “You got drunk and that’s bad for us– for our image which is exactly what we’re trying to fix.” Tom was growing frustrated too, something he didn’t want to do this early in the morning.

“So? Do you ever just… have fun?” You quickly grew frustrated, hating the way he spoke to you as if you were a child. You swore you’d seen a smile on the boy's face last night between glasses of expensive wine. But now, after a stern telling off from his parents he seemed ashamed.

He leans in, glancing up at the cooks that bring the breakfast in. “We don’t get to do that when my parents are around. They don’t like it.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well I’m sorry, but how was I meant to know what to do? I didn’t grow up like you, Tom. Parties on the farm were dull, there was never that many guests or fancy outfits– I’m sorry.”

Your statement started out as rude and you intended for it to be, but near the end, you were uttering a genuine apology, realising that you probably had screwed up your end of the deal. Instead of looking over at him you look at your feet in shame.

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone for so long last night, I should’ve stuck with you instead of running around like a headless chicken.” Tom chuckles and your eyes remain at the ground.

You couldn’t work out who was more in the wrong here.

“Let’s… just not let it happens again, okay?”

You nod at Tom, stomach growling at the sight of food and you reach over, giving Toms hand a small squeeze. It was a small action but one that makes him smile for a second, feeling that for a fleeting moment– everything was okay.

Someone waits patiently to talk to Tom and you make your way to the table, Harrison quickly popping up to talk with the chef too. You wonder if Tom knew how to cook as you take your seat and glance at his plate. You remembered him telling you that he always had blueberries in his breakfast, while Harrison always had strawberries and shake your head.

So you switch their plates when they're not looking, finding small ways to get under Tom's skin even if that means switching his breakfast with his best mates. Because while things were okay between the two of you, it didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to mess with him.

The boys discuss something about dinner before heading over, bumping each other playfully and it was clear that Tom's parents were gone. Not only because they weren’t sitting with you, but because the boys seemed much more relaxed. You did too. While they talk, you take a large swig of juice.

“I’m starving!” Harrison beams, hissing when he burns his tongue on a sip of coffee. “Fuck.”

“What do you look so smug about?” Tom teases, bringing a forkful of pancakes to his lips. He smiles as cream lines the area right above his lips, leaving a faint line.

“Nothing.” You shrug your shoulders, twirling your own fork between your fingers. That orange juice had done wonders with your headache.

You must've switched your plate with his, his thinks. Enjoying strawberry pancakes for once. But he watches you take a bite of yours, strawberries peeking out of the cream and furrows his brows.

That's weird–

But It’s Harrison that you switched with. It’s Harrison that stared at you two with wide eyes as he swallowed something– a fruit that was not strawberries. It was weird, different, and Harrison would remember the familiar taste of blueberries anywhere.

How could he forget after that fateful day when he was a kid? Only nine years old and accidently consumed a single handful of blueberries from the bush out back and ended up with his first near-death experience.

“These are blueberries.” He coughs, fork clattering against the plate. He looks like he’s struggling.

For a second you think he’s joking.

For a second you think that the small coughs leaving his lips are all for effect.

You think that he’s playing a game and you roll your eyes but deep down, something hits and it tells you to stop.

You think that the sudden panic replacing the amusement on Toms features is a little scary but nothing more then him playing along.

And you think that the sound of the bowl hitting the floor, blueberries rolling onto the marble covered in a thick layer of cream is a little too dramatic.

And Tom's voice is piercing, the gasp that leaves him clearly not just created to make you feel shitty about yourself for a small laugh. Because Harrison is gripping– no, clawing at his throat.

And he looks like he’s struggling, maybe like he’s in pain and your fork hits the floor, bright, cherry– no, strawberry red staining the ground.

“Get help!”

Seven

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[mistress-kitty2017]

Mistress Task #2 What kind of submissive am I? What am I into?

The beginning: Only one person has ever asked me this question, my Mistress. When Mistress and I first got together, we would switch roles. It wasn't long until we realized where our desires fell, and our authentic personalities came out.

"What kind of sub are you? What are you into?" This is a difficult question to answer in its entirety. I am going to split this question into the two parts that comprise the entire subject. What kind of sub am I?

I have grown over the past few years with Mistress. I went from Kink shamed and hiding before we met, practicing and failing to dominate her, to discover I am a 24/7 male submissive. I started out being a sub only during sessions, nothing outside the bedroom. I can say that I wasn't into it, but that would be lying. I was scared, still hiding behind my kink shame. I was into the bondage part at the start of all this. I wanted Mistress to restrain me using creative methods, and then we would have sex. We had dipped into chastity but nothing serious. As time passed, I transformed with Mistress while she introduced me to new ideas during sessions.

I cannot claim to be one particular type of sub. There are subs out there that are strictly sissy boys, pets, or servants. I began as a sub, not knowing that I am a sub if that makes sense. I am not sure if there is a sub "classification" for me. If not, I coin the transformed sub classification. I am a sissy boy, kitty, and a servant to my Mistress.

I cannot claim to be one particular type of sub. There are subs out there that are strictly sissy boys, pets, or servants. I began as a sub, not knowing that I am a sub if that makes sense. I am not sure if there is a sub "classification" for me. If not, I coin the transformed sub classification. I am a sissy boy, kitty, and a servant to my Mistress.

I am very much into the Bondage scene. I absolutely love it when Mistress pulls out the restraints and gets to work with her creativity. It doesn't matter if she uses rope, chain, duct tape, or the body bag, I am on board when I am told to stay. I am not merely talking about tying hands and feet together here. I am talking about complete restraint, unable to move at all. Rope so tight that it leaves indentions when the session inevitably ends. I love the lack of control I experience when I am restrained. I still get those moments where I kink shame myself, but I can't back out when I am tightly bound and gagged.

I am, particularly into predicament bondage. It has become an extreme turn on for me to suffer an immediate consequence during the session when I move either by choice or reflex. I anticipate the risk that comes with predicament bondage. Something pulls on my testicles, tightens around my neck, or spills hot wax over my bare skin. I also find that long term bondage and suspension bondage to be fascinating. I have spent hours in safe restraints with little to no interaction from Mistress. When she couples this with sensory deprivation, and I enter subspace, pure bliss.

Mistress and I have experimented with various forms of torture and torment over the past few years. I have grown in this style of play since our beginning. This all started with the purchase of a riding crop with her sister. At first, I hated it. After a few sessions, I crave her punishments, and we have grown beyond a riding crop. It hurts, don't get that confused, but I can feel her power behind it. She has the straight dominance when she wields her whips, paddles, and crop bleeds over into my euphoria. Her dominating aura tied with the physical pain turns me on.

One thing that was a hard limit at the beginning was CBT, except the occasional wearing of a chastity cage. Now, it has been growing more intensive in our lifestyle. We have been experimenting with longer chastity outside of sessions. The hold up has been me in this department since I am still working on finding the perfect fit for a device. I have an excellent metal device that needs some adjusting as my body has adapted to wearing it. Extended chastity leads to orgasm denial for months and months. Sadly, we slipped in this style lately. We both have been so heated in sessions that accidents have happened. Mistress has an exquisite set of urethra sounds and plugs to plunge through my urethra. Mistress recently added a ball stretcher, smacker, and smasher into her toybox for my birthday. We haven't had a session with those new additions just yet, but it will come, and I am excited to experiment with another form of her female domination.

As a male, anal was an off-limit zone until Mistress broke that barrier with anal beads. Not far from that came her dominating strap on. I was officially owned at that moment. It has taken months of training for me to stretch and accept larger plugs. I am now required to wear an anal plug when we do game night; however, I might suggest to Mistress that I wear it when we are in the company of others no matter the occasion. I also get excited when Mistress puts me in predicament bondage, chastity and then takes ownership from my behind after I suck her fake cock, of course.

Mistress' favorite type of play, besides torture, is public or private humiliation. This was a strict "no way" on my list when we started out, but I have grown to absolutely love it. I think this is my highest area of growth because it pushes me to be completely submissive and puts Mistress in a dominating control that I can not get enough of. Mistress fluidly moves through different styles of humiliation. We have a strict policy about having other people in our lifestyle, that isn't something that we are interested in. However, her dominance lit up one night when we had to move our bedroom, and her sister was there. Mistress did not shy from hiding items and saying humiliating things to her sister and boyfriend about my submission. It was light, I may add, but Mistress', how do I put it, enthusiasm, was substantial.

We have puppy play sessions. This includes my rear end being stuffed with a tail style anal plug. I am leashed and led around the house on my hands and knees, following every movement of my Mistress. I lay on the floor since pets are not allowed on the furniture and eat from my bowl on the floor. I struggle to keep up when crawling, leading to some sort of punishment. I have a kennel that I spend nights in, but we have been throwing around the idea of creating a BDSM isolation box underneath our bed to replace the larger enclosure.

We have recently been focusing on more sissy boy humiliation. I can't get enough of this play with Mistress. She typically dresses me up to her liking, and then I serve her around the house by doing chores, fetching things for her, or being a bound sissy. I particularly enjoyed a session when I was to stand in the corner, in sissy fashion, until she needed something. This started with me wearing a pair of high heeled boots and has flourished into panties, bra, boobs, leather skirt, and red lipstick. I can see Mistress adding other humiliating items to this, such as a maid outfit or corset for servitude. I also think this is an area where I want to grow even more. I have had an increased interest in different humiliation techniques as well. Mistress and I spoke about requiring her spit or urinating in my beverage before I could enjoy it. I have been thinking about safe water sports play and discussing this with Mistress. I am tasked with purchasing a new item monthly for Mistress's toy box, and I have been skating around a gag that collects fluids, perfect for water sport play. My humiliation has become Mistress' go-to style as of late, and I find it to speak to the core of my male submission. Everything else in this post revolves around my humiliation.

This is already a long, long post, and I am sure I missed something or could elaborate more. Mistress will review this and probably task me with going deeper into a subject later. Until next time.

Kneeling Kitty

[gunmetaltesla]

|| I Think You’ll Understand ||

The day starts like the previous ten have, with me waking up at around eleven-like a lazy, posh house cat content to satisfy nothing but her own urges-to the cold, bright light of a winter sun streaming through the window across from my bed. I squint against the light and begrudge wakefulness, taking me away from the pleasant dreamscape free of taunts and jibes and blessedly, tantalizingly replete of stolen kisses in the stacks of the library after hours, foggy lunchtime conversations on the front steps, and breathy laughter over textbooks and notes in an otherwise quiet dormitory (the window of which articulates just how long ago we should've gone to bed). Shaking my head free of these images, lest they occupy my entire day. I'm no doubt expected to socialize with the endless stream of people that visit this time of year-"come-a-callin'", as our wonderfully Scottish maid Trudy would say, clucking around my room like an industrious hen once she's heard signs of life-but I can't seem to force my warm feet to hit chilly floorboard. Instead, I content myself with a bit of a lounge. She'll no doubt come to inspect what she expects to be my luxuriating corpse-finally giving into the boring, torturous monotony of the holidays-but for now, I'm just fine burrowing under the down blankets for a minute and surveying my kingdom.

I can't help but think you'd like my room. Without even knowing you all that well, and thus possessing a similarly foreign quality myself for you, I think you would look around the space and tell me, in that calm, warm tone of yours, that it suits me. The combination of royal blue painted and bare brick walls-my mother, after all, a huge proponent of recognizing and embracing the infrastructural brilliance of an old house-dark hardwood floors, worn Turkish rug and cozy bed awash in creams, ivories, and greys. Books, books, books, on every available surface. And two floor-to-ceiling casement windows that overlook the back garden in which I can hear my parents good-naturedly bickering over, I think, turnips. It's quiet, warm, and domestic. Not typically words associated with me-quite the opposite in fact-but still fitting in this scene. I've just stretched from fingertips to toes when there's an alert noise from my phone where it sits on a black lacquer bureau opposite my bed. I get up on all fours, still burritoed in blankets, to see if I can read the screen. And I can just make out a shape that I think, or rather hope, forms your name. I'm tumbling out of bed, tangled legs betraying me and causing an undignified thump and sprawl onto the floor. I right myself and pick up my phone, my face already forming the smile that has become characteristic when talking to you.

Morning. I heard this song this morning when I was helping my mom make breakfast, and I thought of you. I think you'll like it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MH-UmYkXiM

I immediately switch my phone to Bluetooth, and the song's plucky, but somehow smooth and wild, guitar comes strumming through the speakers I've stationed throughout the room. That's another thing I think you'd like-you seem like the kind of person that would appreciate good audio.

I do like it, I reply once the video ends, a big smile across my face and a dreamy look in my eyes, thank you for sending it to me.

You're welcome. Any plans tonight?

Oh. That's right, I think with a groan as I walk back over to my bed-phone in hand-and burrow back beneath the blankets in retreat. Tonight is New Year's Eve.

No, but that doesn't mean I won't be do anything.

I don't look happy. Well, truthfully you wouldn't know, but the wording of that text looks somehow "off". After nearly incessant conversation over the break, you've become quiet adept and the tone and meter of my text conversation. Oddly enough, you've never met anyone else-apart from you-that texts how they speak. You shouldn't have been surprised, given all my other quirks. The thought of it still makes you smile.

Trapped in family commitments?

A long time before the dreaded typing ellipsis and then ping.

Something like that. My sister, convinced that I need to let loose-I think she forgets that I'm ten years her junior, the fruitcake-stormed into my room two days ago and all but demanded that I get secretly drunk with her at the party tonight.

You have no idea how to respond to this, because you're feeling a cocktail of sensations yourself. Curiosity, as to how I might be different under the influence. Surprise at the fact that I might indulge in the first place. Titillation-yep, I said it-at the idea of a less rigid, weaker-walled me. And jealousy, which catches you by surprise, when you remember the last of the New Year's traditions. It's then that you also realize that you never asked if I…you don't know if I'm attached. You aren't, but you suddenly find a desperate desire within yourself to know if I am or why I'm not or whether I'd like to be. Another ping.

I'd rather be spending time with you.

You smile at the phone, cradling it in both hands like a treasure. You decide to have a little fun and get your answers at the same time.

So…drinking with your sister at a family get-together. Sounds like a good time. No plans otherwise? No budding romance to kindle as the fire crackles? No one to meet under the mistletoe?

That's Christmas.

I know, you goober. I just meant…nevermind.

I will not be kissing anyone as the bell tolls, if that's what you're asking.

You can practically hear my eyes rolling at the concept, and that makes you chuckle. You're typing out a witty retort when your younger sister walks in.

"So, who is this guy? Your "friend from school". You've been glued to that phone since you got home."

"I never said it was a guy." It's out of your mouth-which is now hanging open in surprise at yourself-before you can stop it. A bullet, speeding toward fragile flesh.

"Oh. Okay. Cool. Mom says lunch is ready." And that was it. You'd expected further questions, deeper investigation, but nothing. Casual interest. Hmm. Maybe it wouldn't…ping.

What about you?

You reply, detailing your own plans of meeting up at a friend's house for a party of your old schoolmates. How everyone is getting all dressed up like it's some swanky affair. There's an ellipsis…then nothing…then another ellipsis…then nothing again.

You're now being summoned to the kitchen in earnest by shouting siblings, so you leave your phone on the bed. All through lunch, you catch yourself straining for any digital noise coming from your bedroom. You must have made a face, because your sister catches you listening and says, "I'm sure she'll text you back."

"Who?" ask you mother and brother simultaneously.

"Her friend from school" is all your sister answers. Something like a secret builds up between you, but it's fond and loving and conspiratorial in the way that only sisters share, so you let it slide. Besides, she's always seen more than she lets on. She's an observant one, your little sister. You're clearing the table with your second brother when you hear it. The ping.

"Told you", comes teasingly from the kitchen. You hand off your portion of the dishes and dash to your room, shutting the door behind you. Three texts, in rapid fire, arrived.

I'd love to see what you're wearing. I'm sure you'll look beautiful all dressed up. Not that you wouldn't if you were dressed casual. I'm sure you would. Might. Could. Do. I'm dressing up, too, if you were curious. It seems the occasion commands it.

You chuckle, low and soft, and carefully type out your response, hitting send before your brain can think better of it.

Well then. If I show you mine, will you show me yours?

That's the closest thing either of us have said that's close to flirting. You're not even sure if it is-if that's what you meant it to be. Playful, yes. Obviously. But flirtatious? Maybe. You might have made a mistake, but only time-and texts-will tell.

Suddenly the party-and the preparation for it-had higher stakes. You felt the delicious tension of attraction purr in your chest, the heated need for physical touch. You've always experienced this, even before sexual activity was even a possibility. You've always craved contact from people, but sexual awakening had only heightened it. And now that you're…well let's just say you need to do something. Be with people. Feel the push and pull of flirtation, the rush of kissing, the release of anything that comes afterward. You want to look your best, but for whom? It's not as if…well. Time to plan.

Leave it to you to find the perfect dress at the very last moment. You were rummaging through your mother's closet, and there it was-a white gold sequined mini number with ¾ sleeves and a low-dipping back. All you needed now was-yes! A pair of nude heels left over from a formal at your old school. You laid everything out and, satisfied with the outfit, set about getting ready for the night.

You kept glancing at your phone throughout the process, having not heard from me in several hours. You figured I was deep into the entertaining-I'd told you about how many different "parties" and gatherings my family holds over the holiday season (that's what I get for a politically active mother and socially and philanthropically active father)-so you didn't precisely question the silence. You didn't like it, either, but that's another issue. You're just finishing up your makeup-simple and bronzy, just your style-when a text tone interrupts your thoughts.

I don't want to show you.

You frown a little, gold eyeliner still dangling from your hand, and reply with a simple ?

"Mine". I don't want to show you. You'll think it's silly.

I won't.

You're sure.

Yes.

And you were. But you waited…and you laughed a little when you realized that I was following your text to the letter and waiting until you'd shown me your getup before revealing my own.

Give me a minute-I'm just finishing up.

A few minutes later, satisfied with your appearance via a thorough check in the full-length mirror of your room, you managed a shot.

You look…

You feared the worst. That somehow what looked nice, and festive as hell, in your head didn't actually translate aloud.

You look like the first sparkler I ever held.

And somehow, without knowing me in childhood-really without knowing me now-you knew that was a high compliment and blushed at its sight.

Thank you. That's…I know that's a very nice thing to say. But enough about me…

And you waited…and waited…and waited…till finally a ping. And all you saw was a brilliance of sparkling emerald green, miles of pale skin, and a small, knowing smirk beneath a quizzical brow.

I felt foolish, posing like I was. I'd staged everything. Hell, if I commit to something, I do so to the fullest. I'd grabbed a tripod from my mother's home studio, set on the timer, and taken practice shots. I wanted it…I needed it to look well. I wanted to impress you, even if I didn't quite know why. Still, I did it. And I managed to get a shot I felt alright about-the rest I hated. It was now or never, and so I sent the thing before I could fake an excuse and bluster some lie of it not turning out.

It's a costume party.

I hit the send arrow and waited, the wig cap feeling tighter and hotter than it had moments ago, the silky fabric rough on my anxious skin. The sequins, which sparkled and winked playfully like they were meant to, instead cast glares and were just too bright for me. I'd made a horrible mistake. I'd gone too far. Who wants to go to this stupid…who should celebrate this useless…oh what's the point! I was reaching to yank off the wig and tell Trudy to tell my family I was sick when my phone went off.

Holy shit! You look just like her. Please tell me there's no Gene Kelly waiting for you at the party.

I grinned ear to ear, the angry red of my skin transforming into a blush of flattery. Not only did you know who the costume was meant to represent-I mean for God's sake I'd spent a week making it (Trudy helping with the sequins)-but you also told me…you implied that I…how I could ever be as appealing as Cyd Charisse is beyond me.

No. Nor is there a scar-pocked man thrusting a diamond cuff beneath my snout to lure me away…

Well you look incredible.

So do you. I wish…well, Happy New Year!

Talk to you soon.

And that was all it had been. Nothing out of the ordinary, other than a video of me and a young woman you assumed was my sister, singing "Honky Tonk Woman" into the camera at the tops of our lungs, drunkenly and off-key enough to make you nearly splutter coffee all over your book when it arrived.

We'd gone back to normal conversation after that. You never told me what happened to you when you rang in the new year, but it wasn't out of deception.

It was a face-to-face conversation, and you were only a couple of hours away.

Are you on the train yet? You smiled.

Impatient to see me?

Yes.

Good.

Good. Talk to you soon.

The emphatic tone of that one-word reply was all the hope you needed. Maybe, if you were lucky, I'd had a similarly transformative-or at least eye-opening experience-myself over the holidays. You wondered if you'd made any appearance in my dreams the way yours had been flecked with green sequins and set on vivid soundstages, awash in color and life and music.

The train ride itself had been relatively uneventful. You listened to the playlist we'd made together-a collaboration of such delightful weirdness that it actually made a cohesive unit of 75 tracks-and chatted with friends who join the growing throng of co-eds as the vehicle neared its academic destination. And as the train slowed, you sat up straight-afflicted with a sudden doubt. What if it was in your head? What if it was good on paper-or on screen, I guess-but had nothing, no juice, in real-time?

Well. There was one way to find out.

The train came to a stop, and students began flooding the white landscape like a school of fish breaking rank. You, hating the hustle and bump of the crowd, waited on the train for a few minutes until the rush died down. And when you got off the train, face grimacing at the sudden gust of ice-cold wind, you saw a familiar form walking toward you-curls whipping around an eager, pale face that sported a brilliant, elated grin.

We met each other breathlessly, nervous exhales dancing and mingling in a rapidly cooling fog between us.

"Hi", I managed a little weakly.

"Hi", you replied, thinking your face would split from its smile.

"How was the-"my question was interrupted by the perfectly-timed Flanagan, shouting at you to hustle to the fieldhouse for a team meeting.

You looked up at me-had I gotten taller in the three weeks of break? -and your smile faltered. It seemed to me, to us both, that you were on the verge of saying something. You settled instead for squeezing my hand-frigid because I wasn't wearing gloves beneath my black peacoat. The gesture was, no doubt, meant as a balm. As a silent apology or a physical ellipsis, promising further discussion. It was witnessed, however, by Flanagan.

"Quit dykin' around with the know-it-all and hustle."

You felt me go rigid right before I yanked my hand from yours, mumbled something about needing to check in at the stacks, turned on my heel and stalked away. You called after me, but I just jammed my headphones into my ears and sped up.

Fucking Flanagan. She'd made my life a nuisance since she came to school three years ago. How she'd managed to keep her grades up enough to remain here was a perpetual mystery, but it wasn't one I was too keen on solving. She wasn't worth the time.

Remember how I said that I was so used to jibes and insults that they barely even registered anymore? Well this one-it landed. Like a meteor.

I was used to it. That isn't a lie; I'd never been popular, and I did nothing to remedy that. But you…with your warm smile and easy conversation, strong presence and confident stride. Over the fall term you'd become the second year's golden girl-a star on the pitch and in the lab. You could do no wrong. Except, of course, if you were seen hanging around me. And I didn't want that for you. What to do-how to solve the problem and still get to see you (because I selfishly wanted that so badly I could hear it in my blood)-stomped around my brain for the next two days. Until Tuesday, when I knew I would see you again. You texted me several times later that day, and on Monday, but I never replied. Better to start distancing myself now than risk further…heartache? Is that really what it was? When did I become so…romantic?

I was just falling asleep on Monday night, dreading the awkwardness of the next day, when my phone went off with a text.

I don't know what else to say. Flanagan's a dick. Maybe Ms. Lee can help me out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4kI0dBvg-qw

The beginning of the song crooned through my phone's speakers, and I smiled. And then I laughed.

Maybe Tuesday wouldn't be so bad.

I saw you the next day, in a place other than the library. That had only happened twice-once at the end of the last term, and the other at the train station the day before winter term began. You were walking out of the dining hall, hair still damp and face still scrubbed red from your shower after morning practice. You looked so alive. Radiant with life and laughter and the vitality of the young. And you were arm in arm with a boy I vaguely recognized as a player for lacrosse team whose name I thought was Eli.

My gut went cold, but I was not ready for that. I wasn't prepared for the force of jealousy now coursing its way through my entire body, making my blood feel like boiling metal. My appetite had completely disappeared. I simply clenched my jaw and turned around toward the direction of my first class of the day. Middle English-something that normally held my full attention-but I could already tell my focus would not be on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

The classes came and went, my mind completely unfocused on notes or readings or conversational French. I barely lifted my pen to paper over the course of the day so that, by the time I plopped dejectedly down into my chair behind the desk at the library, I just wanted the day to be over and done. Fortunately, I had some things to occupy me for my shift-organizational tasks always comforted me. As I've said before, the system was my friend.

"Long time no see".

I closed my eyes against the joy I felt at your voice. Against the surge of relief at you coming to see me.

"Yes."

I didn't risk looking at you. There was no use in both of us knowing how deep my wounds had gone.

"I thought I saw you coming toward the dining hall this morning, but then…I waved, but you'd already turned around". Your voice sounded curious, apologetic, and concerned.

"Yes, well. I was almost there when I lost my appetite." I couldn't mask the venom that time.

The silence across the desk, coupled with a chill in the air you could almost feel, made me look up at you. And the expression in your face mirrored the one etched on my memory from finals week-which felt like a century from now-when you'd brought me coffee.

"Oh. Well, I just…I mean I thought…I kind of wanted to talk to you about something. Do you have time after your shift today? We could meet after dinner, or something, if you want and talk about some th- "

"We're late. Come on." From the wretched Eli, to whom I shot enough daggers with my eyes to make him blanch (in which I took monumental and petty satisfaction). That is, until he grabbed your hand and started tugging you in the direction of the study group.

I decided to be the bigger person and acquiesce.

"After dinner. Tonight."

"My rooms?" you offered, the hope and honesty in your voice making me nauseous with guilt at my behavior to the point that all I could manage was a nod in confirmation before you left the desk and joined the others.

Two hours later, my shift nearly finished but my relief arriving for hers early, I took a few extra minutes to return some of the more precious tomes by hand. And one, a text on marine anatomy, brought me within two shelves of your study group. Something like curiosity-morbid though it may have been-made me stay and lurk in the shadows between shelves, watching you among the other athletes. You weren't studying, you were relaxed back in your chair which was leaned on its rear legs as yours were propped up on the table around which you all sat. You were laughing at something someone had said, and my heart soared (as it always does) at the sound. Then, it increased at something Eli said and you leaned your forehead onto his shoulder as the two of you shook in laughter. I was suddenly desperate to be anywhere but where I was, stuck between the world I knew and the one to which I'd never belong. I was in such a panicked rush that the book I was returning to its place wobbled off its shelf and, with a very loud thunk, fell to the ground.

I froze where I was, white with mortification and fearing detection. Chanting to myself that I was invisible and the people around me were deaf, my peripheral vision took note of someone rising from the table to find out what caused the noise.

"Fancy meeting you here", you said with a little sarcasm but, still beneath it, your characteristic warmth. 

"I wasn't eavesdropping." Blurted, vomited right out of my mouth.

"No one said you were. You do, after all, work here." I heard rather than saw the smile in your voice.

"Yes. True. Well. I should be going."

In the time it had taken for our conversation to start and for me to desperately try to escape, two more people had gotten up from the table-no doubt to discover the identity of the mysterious interloper. My two least favorite people in the walking world.

"Oh, it's you" moaned Eli with a dramatic sigh and a dismissive whip of his hand.

"Shouldn't you be sitting at your little desk with Patricia Highsmith and Gertrude Stein?" growled Flanagan, her face already contorted with malice I hadn't earned…yet.

You braced for the impact of these insults on my behalf, stuck as you were between myself and the other two. You looked as if you were going to come to my defense, but I didn't give you the chance.

"Sadly, misses Highsmith and Stein aren't available. Maybe I should just have a chat with your dear, sweet, so very secret Megan instead?"

I still don't know what made me say it. I shouldn't open my mouth when I'm upset; it always gets me into the worst kinds of trouble. You know this-now. Then, though, I don't think you could've stopped me. No more than you could've anticipated or stopped Flanagan's open hand reaching past you to meet my face with such force that the class ring on it scratched my cheek enough to draw blood.

The air was dense with tension, silence, and surprise.

"Are you okay?" you asked quietly, heedless of the heaving Flanagan and the confused Eli. You even reached toward me, but I took a step back.

"Don't…she's socially radioactive", he said, his face forming a cruel sneer.

"I- "

"He's right', I said, righting myself, 'don't worry about it. I'm fine. I always am. It was…it's been nice knowing you" I managed a halfhearted shrug, but I could feel the tears and bile building in my throat.

You were speechless, and you looked like someone had struck you. Flanagan's chest was still heaving and her face was the color of a ripe raspberry. Eli was just leaning against the nearest shelves like a triumphant peacock.

"Talk to you soon", I said with a bitter laugh, the sound of it-and the reference in my words, and their sarcastic finality-made you flinch.

I walked past you, went to my desk to grab my things and practically ran from the library. My friends. My sanctum sanctorum, now reduced to rubble.

I made it to my rooms before I let one tear fall, but they didn't stop.

You didn't move from your spot between the shelves until the other two had left. Flanagan had muttered something about leaving something in the fieldhouse and stomped away; Eli's boyfriend Jacob had come to retrieve him. And you just stood there, dumb to everything except two things: one, that you'd watched me get hurt and done nothing (despite really wanting to) and two, that you didn't care whether I was radioactive-that you'd risk the poison if it meant getting to see me read Italian or look at me dressed like Cyd Charisse.

You finally moved and made it to dinner, eyes searching the hall for me all the while. I wasn't there.

You left the hall and went back to your rooms. The door was still open in invitation when you fell asleep.

You woke up in the middle of the night, suddenly like someone had disturbed you. The room was dark, your roommate Chloe's gentle snores the only sound. You were trying to figure out what had woken you when-

Ping. From two minutes ago. That's what had done it. A text from me. Just a link and four words.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBxAdoTOnuM I'm sorry. The steps.

You grabbed your overcoat and your purple beanie, jammed your headphones into your ears, and took off running into the night.

2:54

I couldn't believe I done it. My face scrunched up at my foolishness, my lovesick nonsense-the shit that only happens in stories-but winced at the tug I felt from the scratch on my cheek. I'd been standing here in the cold for fifteen minutes before I'd even sent the text, and now for ten as I waited on the steps. Late night snow was starting to fall.

I had almost-nearly-basically given up when I heard distant footsteps in the dark.

A form started to take shape. A girl. An athlete. A familiar purple beanie.

I thought I was going to faint.

You took full form, and slowed down as you came to the bottom of the steps. You didn't ascend, letting me dictate the terms.

"HI", you said breathlessly, your chest still heaving from your cross-campus sprint. Your coat was open, revealing your sleeping sweats beneath.

"Hi", I returned, a smile threatening at the corner of mouth at the fact that you'd come. And you'd come like that-as soon as you-

"I came as soon as I could. I was…I waited for you to come."

"I know."

"I left my door open."

"Chloe must've been so confused."

Spurred on by the casual tone of the conversation, you put one foot on the steps to come up, "Listen…."

I held up a hand to halt you.

"No. I…I'm sorry about earlier. I'm not good…I'm not good at people." I rolled my shoulders in awkwardness, but my hands remained in my pockets, making me look like an irritated penguin.

And you laughed. That glorious sound that felt like sun breaking through the clouds.

"It's okay that you're crap at people." You took two steps upwards. I didn't stop you.

"It is?"

"Yes", you said happily, taking three more steps. Only two left.

"Why is that? You heard Eli…I'm radioactive. You saw Flanagan-I'm…why is that okay?"

"Because it is. You're not good at other people. You just have to…" you took the final two steps, level with me and then the final leap.

You reached up, lightly touching one chilled tan hand to my cold pink cheek, you brought your face close to mine and I took a surprised breath. That was all the indication you needed.

You pressed your lips softly to mine, the contact sending sparks and ice and fire and honey all over, inside, atop my mouth. I gasped into your mouth, and you smiled against my lips.

"I just have to what?" I finally asked moments-or years or seconds or decades-later, my eyes still closed long after the kiss had ended.

"You just have to be good at me. And I have a distinct feeling', you said as you took my hand in yours and gave it a reassuring squeeze, 'that you're a natural."

We walked down the steps and across the dark campus, holding hands all the while. You stopped every once in a while to brush snow from my hair, and I paused to let you. We meandered down to the crew lake as the sun was breaking the horizon, and I watched it rise in your eyes and turn your hair burnished gold while you watched the warm peach light settle around my paleness like a blooming rose. We were sitting on the dock, freezing but unbothered by it, when my stomach rumbled.

"Breakfast?" you asked.

"Yes. I need to shower, though. Meet you there?"

"Definitely". We got up and walked back through campus, you escorting me to my dormitory's entrance like a gentleman. The chivalrous nature of this didn't escape me, just so you know. I know you're just as much a romantic sap as I am, and to this day I am grateful.

We kissed quickly and I left you. You stood outside the building, relishing this new day and its possibilities. You put your headphones on and hit the link again, starting the song over once more. As the chorus was arcing upwards, it dimmed to allow the text tone to come through.

Talk to you soon.

You smiled and walked in the direction of your rooms. You knew it was true. It was true now and always would be.

[formermpdg]

My Biggest Fear

I apologize for the terrible grammar and general lack of attention to anything. I wrote this at like 1am crying. It’s that time of the month. *edit: I realized later that it wasn’t

I fear that if I don’t think hard about my responses to people that I’ll say too much or too little or something weird or something they don’t care about and then they’ll stop talking to me so maybe I overthink but if I just say what I want I’ll end up sending 15 text messages in a row to everyone and then no one will text me which is kind of how it goes right now anyways bc I always end up sending too much when in the off chance someone does text me

but nobody does text me I don’t really understand why I think I’ve got a lot to offer, but maybe that’s the problem maybe I think too highly of myself and people just aren’t interested maybe if I shared my fears with people then they would want to stay friends with me as my biggest fear is that my friends will get sick of me and will leave me if I share this with them though they’ll be pity friends and no one no respectable person wants a friendship that only exists out of pity

I don’t even really understand why this is such a big problem for me. I have two loving amazing parents who are still happily married. Maybe it’s because my first experience with having a bffae (best friend forever and ever) ended with her moving away and the friendship fading and me realizing that forever really meant “or until one of us moves away” and my next experience with “best friends” was a group of girls my age that I never really fit in with and after that I had a best friend named Bridgette who I met in my 3rd grade (her 5th grade) home school group. she was the bestest most coolest friend I thought was even possible. we were best friends for what felt like a lifetime we did everything together, got matching outfits, laughed at the same jokes, used each others phrases and we even kind of looked alike. I even planned on her being the maid of honor at my future wedding. she eventually realized how much older she was than me I guess when she started getting older friends and realized I was annoying. Before she ended our best friendship I tried so hard to fix things with her. I didn’t want to let her go as a friend. The day she told me I was annoying still stings a little.

After Bridgette, I went back to regular school (well private Christian school) with some snobby popular girls who I thought I was best friends with. I thought I was so cool because I was friends with everybody especially the nerdy kids and more importantly the girls who were so cool to everybody else. I never really bought into the whole “popular kids are better than everyone else” trope but I did think I was best friends with this group who happened to also be the popular girls. They messed me up pretty good for a while. One of them convinced me to get an Instagram only to later block me on it and tell all her friends to block me to and then to lie about it. They told me I was annoying. One time one of them actually came up and told me to my face “I hate you” for no reason whatsoever other than that her little group had dared her to. They all laughed in the corner but I could see them laughing.

then I had a best friend who was so funny she taught me to laugh more and she was so cool then a third girl joined our friendship and eventually the friendship became the two of them. they’re still friends which is cool, but it would have been nice to keep in touch with them as I really valued my time with them I think they thought I was annoying or something

Next was my first real love. I don’t want to tell this story but basically we were bestfriends and then we liked each other and then I fell in love and I guess he didn’t, even though he acted like he did and he eventually left me saying I was annoying just like the others

Why do I crave connection so badly? I just want someone to call me their favorite and to take notice when I don’t text for a while someone to call me every once in a while out of the blue just to say hi. I don’t even want it to be romantically at this point because those friendships are certain to end when the “relationship” ends like with ex boyfriend of now 2 months. He never reaches out. It’s like we’re just strangers and I hate that I hate how selfish his love was. He didn’t love me, not really but I digress *refer to "Stop saying ‘I love you’”*

so ya, why do I overthink how much I text people in a row? because if I say too much they get annoyed or worse, indifferent, and they don’t even respond with anything that took longer than 5 seconds to think about

My current best friend is supposed to live with me and my family over summer she is coming at the end of the month and I keep telling myself I’m excited but the more I say it the less I believe it to be true. I am afraid, afraid she’s going to get annoyed with me like everyone else does. I’m afraid we will not be best friends after this situation I fear we’ll drift apart I hope to God and pray that we don’t I couldn’t bear to lose another best friend

or maybe I could maybe that’s just the thing, people are temporary and they cannot be trusted to stay the same that’s just the thing people change. I change I change a lot, hopefully I’m less annoying

[eloiseduval]

challenge 2

a/n: because I’m picky™ I did revisions on my date fic I didn’t like my writing the eternal struggle and just decided to repost. I am satisfied with this though! if you so choose to read again, enjoooyyy most of it is the same. word count: 4.1k. as always, thank you to @nathaniel-schreave for the rp!

If I was nervous for my first official date with Nate seemed to be the universal question for everyone I came across.

I answered politely, with a joking smile, to the effect of “A little, but not too terrified.” No one knew that we had already spent time together unofficially, excluding our introduction. It felt lucky in a way to have gotten to get to know Nate in a different setting than what was supposed to.

Gone were those first date jitters, instead a curiosity to get to know the prince who made a surprising first impression.

I was excited.

The knock that came the day of our date evoked a wide smile, my excitement leaking through as I opened the door and greeted Nate enthusiastically with a curtsy.

“Hi!”

He returned the smile, highlighting the handsome features I hadn’t really studied. He seemed a little more relaxed than the day to day formal wear we had seen in him so far, suit jacket missing and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up casually. I realized then that the swooning I had grown up with was entirely justified, though I pushed that thought away as he asked me if I was ready for our date.

“Definitely. What are we up to today?” I was about to shut the door behind me when he looked my outfit up and down.

“First you need to change.”

I raised an eyebrow, looking down at my dress then back at him. “Okay, sure, anything specific you had in mind?”

“Pants,” he said simply. That might be a problem, I thought to myself, considering all I owned at the moment were skirts and dresses. Though I remembered I had brought a change of clothes from home on the possibility that I was eliminated and had nothing to wear back to Zuni.

“I'll be right back then.” Stepping back inside my room, I shut the door behind me and with the help of my maids, located my pants and changed quickly.

Stepping out to where Nate was waiting, I closed the door behind me. “So what exactly are we doing?”

“I heard that you can’t ride a bike,” he admitted with a grin.

I laughed, wondering how that information had gotten back to him. “You heard correctly. My guess is I'm going to learn today?”

“Yup! Are you ready, mentally prepared?” He seemed excited about it.

I gave him a wary look with a small smile. “Considering I just found out, I'm as ready as I'll ever be.” Riding a bike didn’t seem terribly hard, but with my track record of occasional clumsiness, I wondered how this lesson would turn out.

“Oh we don’t have to if you aren’t ready.” His excitement morphed into worry, making my eyes widen. I felt bad, not wanting him stress unnecessarily, so I put a reassuring hand on his arm.

“No no no, I'm just teasing, this should be fun.” I smiled to show him I really was looking forward to his thoughtful idea and took my hand back.

He let go of a breath he was holding, relieved, and offered his arm. “Ready to go?”

I nodded and tucked my left hand into the crook of his arm, beginning to speak of the dinner he had asked the chefs to make, which I informed him that it was one of the best meals I had ever had, baby carrots and all. He was pleased with himself at my praise, making me smile.

A thought occurred to me as we walked through the palace, making me look up at him. “So have you actually ever taught someone else how to ride a bike?”

He chuckled. “No, but my dad taught me so I got this.”

“Good. No broken arms by the end of today is the goal.”

He suddenly realized how this lesson could turn out, his expression turning worrisome again. “Oh I didn’t even think of that. I’ll make sure you don’t fall off.” He looked at me, reaching over and squeezing the hand that was resting on his arm.

I smiled at the sweet gesture. “I trust you, so I think I'll be okay.” I wondered if it seemed too much to say I trusted him, those three words were almost as important as those other three words, though I supposed trusting him to teach me to ride a bike wasn’t entirely remarkable.

“Okay.” Nate had led us into what looked like a massive garage, several cars parked on one side away from where we standing. “Here let me grab the bike and we can get started.” He walked not too far away and grabbed a plain grey bike by the handle bars, wheeling it towards where I was standing.

I met him halfway, stopping to look the bike over. “Doesn't look too intimidating.”

“Hop on,” he instructed.

I stepped up to it and swung one leg over, sitting down on the seat. “Okay,” I looked up at him with a small smile, “now what?”

“Just try to balance, put your feet on the pedals and try to balance.” He moved to stand in front of the bike, hovering his hands on either side of my waist in case I fell. I tried not to dwell on his sudden close proximity, instead focusing on doing as he said. I wobbled a little as I hesitantly brought my feet up to the pedals, but stayed upright with him practically holding me.

“Alright, not too bad,” I remarked.

“Yes you got this, now I’m taking my hands off but still close.” He moved his hands a couple inches away. I bit my lip as I wobbled a bit more.

“Okay okay, do I pedal?” I asked, feeling like I would topple over if I stayed stationary like this for too long.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you feel comfortable enough?”

I kept my gaze on the bike below me, furrowing my eyebrows with determination. “I'll try it.”

“Are you sure? I really don't want you to fall,” he asked, his voice concerned. Me too, I agreed silently.

I looked back up at him and grinned. “We'll see how it goes.”

He stood there looking incredibly worried - his thoughtful quality showing that I was beginning to find endearing - before taking his hands away fully.

Okay Eloise, you can do this. Everyone knows how to do this by your age, it’s about time.

I pushed my feet, pedaling off wobbly on the cement floor of the garage. I smiled widely when I realized I was biking without too much difficulty. “Look I’m going!”

“Yes keep going, you got this!” he encouraged, but I could still hear his tone of worry as I picked up my speed. My heart began to race as I realized that something so miniscule I had never learned was finally happening, though I began to slow down as I steadily approached a car. I felt my grin slip away as the thought occurred to me that I had absolutely no idea how to stop this bike.

“Um how do I stop?” Before Nate could answer, I wobbled wildly and promptly fell over, ramming my right shoulder into the ground. “Ouch,” I muttered, shutting my eyes for a moment at the burst of pain.

“Oh my god,” I heard Nate exclaim, his quick footsteps following his words as he ran over to me. I opened my eyes in time to see him lifting the bike off of me, bending over me with a frantic expression. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Is your head okay?”

I sat up with a grimace, rubbing my now tender shoulder. “I’m okay, just my shoulder is a little sore.”

That wasn’t embarrassing in the slightest.

“Are you sure? We should have it looked at.” I appreciated his concern, though I knew I would most likely just have a bruise by tomorrow. So I nodded, giving him a small smile.

“Just overestimated my abilities.”

He looked me directly in the eye, his gaze firm. “Are you sure you want to continue?”

I smiled at him reassuringly. “I want to finish today with one successful bike ride.” And my dignity.

He took a deep breath. “If that's what you want.” I almost said no, feeling guilty about concerning him so much, then decided against it. It was his suggestion, in the end.

I put a hand on his arm, trying to soothe him in some way. “110% sure. This time will be good! Promise.”

“Okay,” he agreed, albeit reluctantly, holding out his hands to help me up. I reached out and grasped them while he hoisted me up, then let go to brush off my jeans and pick up the bike to hop on it once again.

“Alright, here we go,” to which I was met with Nate tilting his head and taking in a breath, showing me where the brakes were and how to gradually stop.

Once he was done showing me how not to fall off the bike, I began to pedal again, slightly wobbly like before but still managing to keep going. I grinned at my so far successful bike ride, turning to circle around Nate.

“Yes, yes, keep going!” he exclaimed, getting excited. I laughed at his enthusiasm and at my newly acquired skill, no matter how wobbly I was. I biked a bit more before coming to a complete stop in front of him, ecstatic. “That was amazing!”

He clapped with pride, his brown eyes bright. “That was good!” He looked more expressive than I had seen before, making my pulse pick up slightly and that fluttery feeling I was coming to know well return in the pit of my stomach.

Squashing the feeling down, I got off the bike and did a little skip as I came to stand in front of him, smiling widely. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem! We should go biking sometime, well when you aren't so wobbly.” He grinned.

I laughed at his observation. “I promise no falling next time either.”

“Good, you really scared me there.”

“Only thing I really bruised was my ego, but I think I’ll make a full recovery,” I joked with a grin, making him shake his head with a smile.

“Do you want to go get some food or something, I think we both deserve a break.”

I nodded. “Food sounds perfect right now.”

He chuckled. “Baby carrots?”

I laughed, knowing I was a little predictable when it came to food. “How about something you’re craving?”

Nate paused, thinking for a moment. “Wanna make some mac and cheese?” He laughed at himself, “Sorry that sounds really good right now.”

I smiled at his suggestion. “No that sounds great actually! Although I’m kind of a terrible cook, so I won’t be too much help.”

We spoke a little more on the way to the kitchens, mostly about our mutual lack of skill when it came to baking. Growing up, Alex learned to not let me help him cook, the result usually something burned or tasting horrible.

When we reached the kitchen, Nate walked around to grab the various ingredients he needed. “Could you fill that pot with water?” He nodded his head to a rack above the island that held various pots and pans.

“Will do. Want it on the stove?” I asked, grabbing the pot and filling it with water from a nearby sink.

“Yes please,” he called over his shoulder. I did as he asked, then walked over to a counter, leaning against it with my arms to watch him assemble everything he needed.

“Anything else I can help with?”

“Nothing yet I don't think.” He came over and stood next to me, setting all of the ingredients down on the counter. “Oh, do you want to shred some cheese?”

I nodded and grabbed what I needed to do the simple task. “That I can do.”

“Thanks,” he responded with a grin, then walked over to the pot to turn on the heat and pour the noodles in. “How have you been since I last saw you?”

I started shredding the cheese over a plate. “Good! Your home is very fun to explore. And what about you?”

He shrugged, beginning to stir the noodles. ���Same as before, work is a lot but I'm doing well. Where do you explore?”

I lifted one shoulder. “Mostly just rooms where we're allowed to go, it's nice to find some hidden places where I can go to think.”

“Oh we have plenty of rooms for that,” he remarked, continuing with his task.

I looked over and smiled at him. “One of the many perks of being here.” I stopped shredding, the plate looking plenty full. “Is this enough?”

“Is it 2 cups worth? We can always switch jobs if you get tired.”

I laughed. “I think it'll be better for both of us if I stay away from the stove,” I admitted, earning a laugh from him. “And I'll measure this to make sure. Where’s your favorite spot in the palace?” I grabbed a measuring cup and began to pour the cheese in.

“Definitely one of the music rooms.” There’s more than one? I wondered, though didn’t comment, instead tilting my head to one side.

“Hm, yes I get that.” I finished measuring the correct amounts. “Two cups, all ready for you.”

He smiled. “Thanks!” He then picked up some hidden second part of the pot, straining the noodles and pouring them into a bowl. “Now we need to mix the butter, milk, and flour together in a saucepan.”

“On it,” I declared, grabbing the ingredients and handing them to him with a grin.

He took them. “Come on you can do this part.” He put the saucepan on the stove and turned around, “all you do is stir, I’ll add the ingredients.”

I bit my lip, but nodded nonetheless. “Alright, sure. But just so you know I've set off the smoke alarm at least twice back home.” My family had learned enough from experience that the most I could help out with was with minor tasks like making a salad or setting the table.

He chuckled, then smirked. “Then I’ll be staying even closer.”

I gave a small laugh. “Good. Protect us both.”

“Just stir this.” He added in all the ingredients and backed away slowly with a raised brow. “Can you handle that?”

I chuckled and grabbed a spoon, beginning to stir. “Yes, I believe so. This day really is testing my skills.”

He laughed. “Yeah sorry about that.”

I looked over at him with a small smile before turning back to stirring. “I appreciate the challenge.”

He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms with a smile. “You can’t cook or ride a bike, what else can’t you do that I can help with?”

I laughed, trying to think of any other especially bad skills I possessed. “Let’s see... Ice skating isn’t exactly my forte either, but I don’t think I saw an ice rink on the grounds.” I joked, looking at him pointedly.

“I’ve never tried it so that would be a new experience for me,” he said with a laugh.

“It’s really fun around winter time actually, but I mostly just hold on to the walls,” I giggled, “And you? Anything lacking I could help out with?”

He thought for a moment. “Well you can’t help me with this,” he chuckled, “but I can’t curl my tongue.” He attempted to curl his tongue, failing spectacularly.

I laughed, his attempt and fail cute. “I’ll make up for it for the both of us,” I stated, successfully curling my own tongue.

“You laughed at me,” he gave me a silly pout, “my siblings always make fun of me because I can’t do it.”

I smiled and pointed at him with the spoon I was stirring with. “How often does that cute pout work out for ya?”

He wobbled his head, smirking. “More than you’d think.”

I shook my head with a little laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me.” I continued to stir then looked back at him. “Is this about done?”

He leaned away from the counter and came to look at the pan. “Yeah that looks good,” he observed, smiling towards me, “you made something.”

I grinned widely at him, secretly relieved that it didn’t go worse. “I’m not a hopeless case then.”

“Not at all,” he assured with a smile.

An idea popped into my head, and I asked him a series of quick this or that questions, recalling the idea from Clove. I learned he preferred summer over winter, and board games, which I agreed with, until he said he preferred the mountains over the beach. His hatred of sand was the root of his dislike.

I nodded at his statement. “Understandable. I love the beach but the walk back to the car is way too uncomfortable,” I noted with a laugh.

“Want to take our noodles to go and go to the beach? It’s not too far away,” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You sure you won’t mind the sand?”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’ll survive.”

“Then that sounds perfect,” I agreed with a grin.

He served our meal, then offered his arm to make our way through palace to the beach. Nate asked his own this or that questions as we walked, in which he learned about my scar on my hand from a demonic cat back when I was about 8. He easily shared his dislike for the animals, declaring his preference for dogs, even admitting that if he were to ever get a dog he would name it Waffles, earning a giggle from me.

We quickly found ourselves overlooking a private beach once we had made our way through the palace, the sun glistening over the blue waters. I hadn’t been to the beach in months, sighing happily as I looked around.

“Oh it’s beautiful.” It was early afternoon, and surprisingly warm for a November day, but perfect for what we were doing.

“Yeah, I don’t come out here as much as I should,” he explained, looking around as well.

I gave him a sideways look with a small smile. “Sand and all.”

He jokingly rolled his eyes, “I could stand on a rock.” That prompted a laugh from me.

“Well right now you can deal with it and come sit down.” I gestured with my free hand and moved to sit down near the water, looking back at him.

He pouted, pointing to his pants. “I’m in my nice pants.”

I shook my head. “Nope no pouting,” I insisted, patting the spot next to me. He obliged my request, continuing to pout. “My pants.”

I rolled my eyes with a smile. “Your mac and cheese will make you feel better.”

He gave me a side eye, but didn’t say anything, instead popping a spoonful into his mouth.

I followed his lead and took a bite, my eyes widening at the delicious flavor. His lessons he mentioned receiving from his mother and Lady Collette had paid off, and I told him as much. Nate then tried to deflect the compliment with mentioning how I had made the sauce, which I easily returned with the fact that it was his recipe I followed. Also that he made sure I didn’t burn anything, which truly was a feat in and of itself.

“Any other things you're especially good at?” I asked, changing the subject.

He thought for a moment, then declared, “I’m not talented.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “I'm sure you're plenty talented,” I tried to argue, but he ignored it, changing the subject back to me with a question of what I was good at. I wanted to insist at his doubtful comment that he was obviously talented if our duet in the music room was any indication, then thought against it.

“Hm,” I paused, mulling over his question. “I'd like to think I'm good with my music, singing and my guitar. I also think I’m okay at just... talking to people. That was a big part of Duval Studios, and with the charities, you had to know how to get to know people.”

“You are very good at singing, I can confirm that. Talking to people is a good skill to have, talking to someone new who doesn’t know how to communicate is very awkward.”

“Thank you,” I gave him a small smile, accepting the compliment. “And yes exactly! I hate awkward conversations, so I try to get people to open up as best as they can.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you’re doing with me?”

I wobbled my head. “Yes and no. More of I'd like to get to know you, but at your own pace, I would hate to force anything. For both our sakes.” I immediately recalled Lady Collette’s advice from our etiquette lessons.

Don’t force yourself into something that shows itself as a waste of time. If you’re not interested, don’t dwell.

Thankfully, if that was the right word, I was interested in him. And up to this point, I hadn’t felt like any of our conversation was forced, which Nate agreed with.

“Don’t feel like you’re forcing things out of me, you’re not. I tell you what I want to tell you,” he assured, making me nod with a smile.

“I'm glad. Because so far, I'm enjoying getting to know you.”

“And same with you,” he said, smiling the smile that made those butterflies return once more.

I grinned a little wider, bumping his shoulder gently, “You're a pretty interesting prince, you know.”

He looked over in confusion. “How so?” I really need to work on my filter.

I lifted one shoulder, trying to find the right words. “I guess you just surprised me. I wasn't sure what to expect you'd be like, and I wanted to come here without any initial judgements. But you... you ask the chefs to make me food just so I can try it, you're an amazing musician, and you taught me how to ride a bike! Even if I almost gave you a heart attack,” I added with a laugh.

He seemed pleased at my observation, the corners of his lips lifting into a genuine smile. “I would’ve made the potatoes myself but I couldn’t because they could have never lived up to what they are.”

I easily returned his grin, chuckling. “I can't argue with you there.” Though his smile abruptly slipped away, scoffing instead. “You didn’t almost give me a heart attack.”

I poked his shoulder, recalling how worried he was as he looked over me laying on the ground. “Oh I so did. I saw how nervous you were. Don't worry though, it was sweet.”

His jaw dropped. “I would have gotten in so much trouble if you got hurt.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That's the only reason you were concerned? I feel loved.” I joked with a grin.

“It wasn’t but... uh... um... yeah,” he stuttered, becoming flustered. Before I could let myself look too much unto his unspoken admission, I chose to ignore his little blunder, smiling to myself.  

“Well that's a relief.” My avoidance didn’t work though as he easily picked up on my expression.

“Don’t give me that look!”

I laughed a little sheepishly, putting my hands up. “I'm sorry I'm sorry! It's just cute when you get all flustered.” I gestured with one finger at his face.

He rolled his eyes, playful, and I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile any wider. “I tried not to say anything.” He peered over at me and gave me a doubtful look, evoking a giggle from me.

“Now you don't give me that look.”

He laughed. “Whatever.” We spoke for a little while longer, until we decided that it was probably better for us to head back, Nate I guessed having other things to do. He is still a prince after all.

We both stood, brushing the sand off our pants when Nate mumbled. “My pants are sandy.”

“I think you’ll live.” I echoed his earlier words with a laugh, earning another playful eye roll from the royal.

We were standing in front of my door, while I smiled brightly at him. “I had a... really fun time, thank you.” My words seemed so bland after what I considered a sweet first date, though apparently they seemed good enough as Nate easily returned my bright smile with an “I did too.”

I was about to turn around and open the door to my room when I chose to do something before I could second guess myself, figuring this was the best way to express how much I enjoyed our date.

Rising up on my tiptoes, I kissed him on his cheek quickly. “See you soon,” I said simply, stepping back with a smile.

His cheeks turned a faint pink almost immediately. “Uh… yeah I’ll see you soon,” he echoed, appearing to not know what else to say.

I gave him one last smile, before entering my room and shutting the door behind me.

[singlemama93-blog]

Why I LOVE being a single pregnant mom

So as most women start out pregnant; there's a significant other, maybe one night stand or someone you were just having some fun with. However it happened....it all happened the same way for all of us. Except there comes a time when we all don't really expect things to happen how they do, and you become a single mom. Some choose to be; and in my case I had no choice once the father stopped coming around, and let me tell you...that really fucking sucks. BUT!! Now that I'm almost done with my pregnancy (7 more weeks!) I realized....I absolutely love being single while pregnant and about to be a first time mom. Don't get me wrong; it's not rainbows and butterflies all the time, but the pros totally out way the cons. I started this blog to help other moms out there see it's okay to be a single mom and you're doing a kick ass job already. So here's my list of some pros that out way the cons of being pregnant and single! Number 1: So when I first came to the realization my sorry loser of an ex wasn't coming back around to help out with our son; I was sad...like really fucking sad. Kim Kardashian ugly cry all the time and completely down in the dumps. (P.S. No one said this was easy) however as a few months went by I grew stronger. I realized who I was and that I didn't need a man in my life to make me happy. At this point is when motherhood hit me like a bus....it wasn't about me anymore! And I fell in love with that. As long as I was doing my best to prepare for a baby and keep myself healthy for the baby...then in my mind I grew more confident and happy. I found myself again. So all in all...ya my ex sucks, but I could sincerely look him in the eyes and say THANK YOU! He helped me see I was fucking amazing without him around. Number 2: This one kind of ties in with not having a man around to cuddle with and share how your day was and blah blah blah. Let me tell you....I sleep in my king size bed without having to worry about waking someone up every hour to go pee (yes, that's a real thing), I can spread out and toss and turn and try to get as comfortable as possible (it's pretty annoying once you're in your third trimester), and my favorite part...I can eat whatever the hell I want without any judgement and cry at whatever I'm watching on Netflix; all in the comfort of my bed ALONE (okay; that's kinda a lie...my dog Sofia witnesses the crazy cravings). So yeah, it sucks not having someone to cuddle with and vent to at times...and a foot massage; id kill to have one every time I got off work; but nothing's going to compare to the endless cuddles my baby boy is going to bring and pedicures can fix any aches wayyy better then some mediocre foot rub by your man. Number 3: This one is kind of a happy medium: where you do what you have to do; but at the end of the day..you're like damn I'm a bad ass bitch. As for most single moms who aren't just gifted with millions of dollars, we work. Unless there is a problem with pregnancy and you have to take it easy (high five to you mamas for taking care of yourself and that baby!) As y'all have mostly figured out the father of our son sucks; so of course he doesn't contribute any money. REMINDER: Not all dads suck! Some people and can coparent and that is AMAZING!! I commend you both and pray everyday I can convince the father of my son to hopefully get to that point. (It's all about the child remember:)) So I work as a server/bartender at Hooters...yes I still wear the cute little outfit; just a different shirt; and yes some of y'all are like why wouldn't you get another job, no one goes to hooters to see pregnant women...blah blah blah. I have a great work environment, amazing coworkers who love my son and I so much, and supportive customers who would do anything to help out. So yeah I work at hooters. I'm still working 35-40 hours a week; running around, making drinks and in between having to pee all the freaking time, making sure my customers are happy. I won't lie; I cry sometimes getting ready for work, shit I don't want to leave my comfy bed and awkward but loving stares from dog while I eat a whole pizza....but I get up and go to work. Wanna know why? Because that's life and I want my son to have a kick ass life and be able to provide for him without any worries. Do I stress about money? Uhhh all the time. Am I completely prepared financially to have a child? Mmmm no. No one is unless you're a celebrity. However I'm ready. I'll be okay, and so will my son, and that's all the matters at the end of the day. So yes being a single mom financially is fucking terrifying, but once you get home from that 8-10 hour shift...you sit down and you realize how amazing you are for getting through the day and being your best for your child. That will always be one of my favorite feelings. Number 4 and Number 5: This one has been a huge impact on my life. You realize who is truly there for you. Family, friends, and like I mentioned work wise in number 3. I have lost at least 80% of my friends since becoming pregnant, and when I say friends..I mean "friends". Which sucked at first; and was hard to get use to. I always had plans with people, and I won't lie; I use to party pretty hard at times. So everyone knew I was down to have a good time. However I realize now that I'm sober and have a good head on my shoulders; I was going down the wrong path...and really quickly. So I found out I was pregnant after that pesky little aunt flow didn't make her way into town for her monthly stay; and cleaned up my act real quick. Not only was I sober and removing toxic behavior out of my life; I was doing a clean sweep of my friends around me too without even knowing it. My best friend....yes my best friend ever; like I was her maid of honor, first person she told she was pregnant too, taking care of her child when she finally got to have that girls night out after baby, and call me anytime in the middle of the night best friend....even she isn't apart of my life anymore. The last person I ever expected to go, but if she ever somehow ends up reading this...thank you so much for showing your true colors before I invited you into my sons wonderful life. Some "friends" aren't there to bring the best out in you, and that's when you just have to accept that loosing some people....it's not always a bad thing. In my case, I realized who I want in my life and around my son. My family and I have a stronger bond (BTW, they've been beyond amazing). My parents divorced when I was pretty young and my dad got remarried, so it was a messy divorce and at times I was thrown in the middle...shit happens, they didn't mean it now that I've grown up and can see both sides. However, I recently had my baby shower and of course I invited my mom, dad, and step mom. Duhh it's my family...my dad and step mom don't live in town so I wasn't expecting them to be able to make it, but when they came down to surprise me....it was one of the happiest times I've experienced in a while. Until the thought of my mom, dad and step mom all being in the same room hit me...I like thought "oh shit...what the fuck did I just do." Long story short because we're all adults; it was a major success. I never thought I'd have a family picture again in my life, and my son is the reason it was possible. How cool is that? I will cherish that moment for forever. So throwing away the party life and certain friendships...it sucks at first, but I'm so happy to where I've ended up and can't wait for everyone that has stuck around to see how much my son is going to grow. (Little man is so loved, that I don't even worry about not having the father around...who needs someone who doesn't want to be around when you have ten times more people who do!) All in all...I love being independent and being a pregnant single mom. As I said over and over...things do suck at times, but remembering the pros will always out way the cons when it comes to motherhood. I'm stoked to be a mom. A little terrified, but extremely excited. My little man and I will now be able to share the king size bed together (with Sofia of course), my friends and family will be able to see the highs and lows baby is going to encounter, and best of all....I'm the happiest and strongest mama there could be for my son. That's what keeps me going; and probably ever other single mom out there.

[ericacheeks-blog1]

Paris, the City of Lights

Yes, I realize it’s been two months since my last post, but it suddenly hit that I only had a few more weeks left of my crazy European adventure. I wanted to soak in every moment of being in Prague, the city I’ve seen the least of since being abroad, instead of fixating on a laptop screen inside a coffee shop. I’m currently back in the US of A and have settled into my summer in Austin! Catching up with family, spending time with friends back at home, and learning from my new internship have all been amazing and is helping with the post-exchange depression, but that’s for a different blog post. Here’s Paris: Nicole and I said our dramatic goodbyes, as it was our first weekend apart, which was a bigger deal than it sounds considering we shared a room, had a class together, and planned almost every weekend trip with each other. It was strange parting ways.

I made it to Paris and was immediately greeted by a guy acting like an information desk employee, telling me that all the metro stations were down because of the “crazy storm from last night” and that I had to take a €70+ taxi from the airport to wherever my destination was. My data and wifi connection was being extremely shoddy and I had no one to contact or any way to verify if this man’s wild accusation could possibly be true. I know it sounds ridiculous for me to believe him even for a second, but just know that he was seriously in uniform and even had a legit-looking badge around his neck! Anyways, my intuition kicked in and I decided to keep it moving. I got to the other side of the airport and found myself on the right train, heading towards my friend Nadia’s place. I heard someone calling my name in the dark street. I looked up and shouted for Nadia but only heard instructions to come up the windy staircase. I did exactly what was told and met Nadia and her roommate, Kristie, in their cute ‘n French flat. We hugged, excited to see each other on the other side of the world, and couldn’t stop chatting about our amazing first few weeks abroad. A creamy and whipped chocolate spread was shared between Kristie and I while Nadia put together avocado and humus toast for me. I was starving, but we were getting ready to head out for the night. Outfits were worn and shown and reworn and reshown, heels were strapped, and lipstick was applied before making our way to a club dedicated to the ladies. My DSP friends, Andrea and Sierra, invited me to an event via Facebook called “Bright Ladies Things”. The event promised no cover, unlimited champagne, free dinner, desserts, and manicures, and extensive shows. It sounded way too good to be real – and I’m not just using that phrase to make my point. But alas, this is Paris for ya, the city that gives and gives to bring girls into clubs but also sells €16 cocktails to our unlucky male counterparts. Yes, I chose to “fall” into the disproportionately advantageous trap many woman have as an option. No, I don’t fully support it and think it’s fair in any way.

Clear of judgment before reading on please. We arrived at the club and met up with a few other friends of Nadia and Kristie. When we walked in, I felt like I was enjoying my bachelorette party or at least what the movies always portrayed bachelorette parties to be like. Our group of girls were escorted to our own corner booth and handed rounds of champagne. While making our way through the crowd, I glimpsed men giving out lap dances in the middle of the dance floor and a beautiful woman seductively biting off her glove to a shower of glitter. Once seated, men catered dinner and desserts to us. We chat and laughed and ate. Right in front of us, girls were being treated to manicures and cute skirts were being sold on little racks. I’m still kind of confused as to what was going on at this club, but I had a good time overall.

The night split our group up and half of us ended up at a different club closer to the city. Nadia, Kristie, Shubhi, and I Ubered over, but the bouncer ended up giving our friend Shubhi a hard time and we couldn’t get in. We decided that food was more important to us and wandered around in search for the closest McD’s. While we were strolling the city, I spotted the Arc de Triomphe and my oh my was it gorgeous, especially lit up in the middle of the night. I was in absolute awe but my friends who were probably numb to it at this point in the semester kept focus on their mission for fries and nuggets. I tried to take in the Arc while catching up with my friends and ended up tripping on the pavement, scraping my knee. This is how distracting the Arc was for me.

I knew I was going to struggle with waking up the next morning but I ended up forcing myself up with the first ring of my alarm. I had booked a walking tour and had to get myself to the St. Michel Fountain by a certain hour. Unlike myself, I got there a few minutes early and had time to grab a cheese crepe for breakfast.

The tour was extremely informative. I learned about how the French initially hated the Eiffel Tower and regarded it as one of the ugliest structures of the city and how one tower of the Notre Dame is larger than the other and how the Mona Lisa became famous due to a security guy’s casual theft of it back in 1911 (he literally just stuck the painting under his arm and walked out of the Louvre, as easy as that) and how the architecture of many buildings consists of slumping tops and narrow staircases usually lead up to the smaller bedrooms because the maids would usually be housed there (that or the rent would be cheaper up there).

The tour ended by the Louvre and we dispersed to take photos and enjoy the rest of our afternoons in the city. I found it a bit tricky to get the best shot by the famous glass pyramids since I was alone. I had to ask strangers (yes, multiple times) for photos, but I’m glad I did because who knows when I’ll be back in this city!

I started to get hungry and remembered that my friend Vlad got Chipotle in Paris last weekend. I’ve been craving a chicken bowl since my faux Chipotle bowl in London at Burrito Café, and started my route to the nearest franchise.

On my way back to the Louvre, I ran into a Ladurée shop and stepped into a store filled with beautiful, vibrant macaroons. The whole store was bursting with pastel colors and I felt a bit overwhelmed. I picked a few random (i.e. Rose) and classic (i.e. salted caramel) flavors and skipped along to finally explore the Louvre.

The entire time I was admiring the hundreds of paintings, I kept thinking to myself, “wow, I am strolling around the halls of the Louvre IN PARIS with a box of Ladurée macaroons in my hands on a Friday afternoon. How freakin’ incredible!” I got my selfie with the Mona Lisa and enjoyed my sweet French cookies on a bench while gazing up at the gold encrusted ceiling.

Y’all. The Louvre is massive. I’m sure you already know that, but it’s bigger than you think!! It took me a good 20 minutes to find my way out. (That statement either bolsters the fact that the museum is HUGE or that I’m directionally challenged, even with a map). 

It was suddenly 6 or so in the evening and I knew I only had time for one more big touristy activity. I was museumed out so I quickly crossed off Musée d’Orsay from the list. I remembered (more like I wrote down) the Montparnasse Tower from the tour guide. He mentioned it was a great place to get an overlook of the city and that it had a 360 observation deck at the very top floor. I had to check it out. I got to the tower at the perfect time because I got to see the city both bustling in the daylight and dazzling in the nighttime. It was just about to hit the top of the hour so I climbed to the rooftop of the building and waited for the show. Just as it hit 8pm, the crowd ood and awed at the breathtaking sight of the Eiffel Tower sparkling like a giant polished diamond with golden lights flickering off it. I think it was the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen. (I tend to over exaggerate as all my friends may accuse me of, but this is no exaggeration.)

The tower stopped sparkling, but I was still in awe. As I was getting ready to make my way down, couples decided to flock to me and ask for pictures in front of the city view. I suddenly became the go-to photographer for the many, many couples up there. I was probably an easy target as I was probably the only one up there alone (lol). It was getting pretty late but I realized I didn’t eat dinner yet. I wanted something quick but light and decided to check out a pho restaurant nearby.

Nadia and I previously decided that Saturday would be our day. We wanted to do a daytrip to Versailles as neither of us have been before. We started off the morning at a café with the best carrot cake in town (idk if this is true. I only had carrot cake from that one shop).

We bought tickets and hopped onto the train heading towards Versailles. The palace was impressive. Crowned and detailed in gold, I was taken aback by its beauty. The line was extremely long but we quickly found out that to get in, you need either your student visa or a €20 ticket. Nadia didn’t bring her passport with her but I, luckily, took a picture of my visa before coming to Paris. Ironically, Nadia’s the one who told me to carry around the picture. She didn’t feel the need to go inside the castle so I went ahead and quickly toured each room.

We met up again by the gardens and took pictures. We decided it was time for lunch and plopped down for vegetable pizza and salmon pasta outdoors. 

We got back to Paris and were exhausted, but Nico (Nadia’s French boy who she met through Tinder week one of study abroad – yes Tinder apparently works because they’re still Skyping and being obnoxiously cute) came over. He brought his friends and we all pregamed our night with wine (how French) and chats. I was highly debating on going out because 1) I’m a grandma and 2) tomorrow was my last day in Paris and I wanted to get the most out of it. It took a little convincing on Nico’s and Nadia’s parts, but I decided to make it out.

Nico took us to a bar where his good friend made us drinks and lit the entire bar on fire. It was crazy cool. The place was absolutely packed. I guess it was a Saturday night, now that I think about it. A little while later we went over to a club and danced the night away.

It hit about 2 AM and being the weak child that I am, I asked Nadia to head home. Nico looked at me with his puppy dog eyes and asked to stay just a half hour longer. They looked extremely happy together which made it hard to say no. The next morning I was in a rush to get ready and meet my Korean friend, Dong, who studied back in Prague with me. He was in Paris for the weekend as well so we decided to sightsee together for half the day. We started the day at Notre Dame and made our way over to Sainte Chapelle. I walked in and was highly underwhelmed with the chapel. I previously saw pictures of it on Instagram and what I was seeing in person wasn’t nearly as impressive. On our way out, we spotted an extremely narrow spiral staircase and decided to check out the top floor. Thank God we did because that’s where all the magic was. The room was filled with jaw dropping and intricate stained glass windows in all direction. I felt like even if I spent an entire day studying the elaborate designs, I wouldn’t be able to do the place justice. A chapel as well crafted as that deserves constant attention.

My friend Vlad actually sent over his Paris itinerary before my trip. I saw that he checked out the Catacombs and so I suggested it to Dong. He was such a great sport and was open to see/do anything! We walked over to find the longest line wrapped around the cemetery. We waited in line for an hour and a half before realizing we’ve barely made it halfway. Instead of spending the rest of the afternoon there, we agreed to grab some food and continue on with our day. Dong got a recommendation from his friend for amazing savory crepes and apple cider. The savory crepes with eggs in the center was definitely on my list of things to eat so we strolled along the art-filled sunny streets of Paris until we found the exact restaurant.

My other friend Lea saw that I was in Paris through my Snapstories and suggested a dessert shop that specializes in eclairs. The place was called L’éclair de Génie and sold the prettiest pastries. They were perfectly glazed and topped with glitter and foils of gold.

It was about time for Dong to head back to his hostel in order to catch his Sunday night flight back to Prague. We walked to Musée d’Orsay together and snapped a quick selfie before departing ways. I mentioned how exhausted I was feeling and Dong told me to check out the glove-like couches on the 5th floor of the museum that hugs your whole body. That sounded like the perfect nap spot so I made a mental note to spend part of my afternoon there.

I roamed around the gallery with my earphones in and plugged to the audio guide. I got to marvel in Monet, Van Gogh, and Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s famous works for hours on end until my power nap on the couch.

I opened my eyes to realize it was getting late. I haven’t had the chance to see the Eiffel Tower up close yet and it was my last day in Paris. I had to go no matter how tired I was.

I got to the tower and was amazed by the sheer magnitude of it (also just the fact that I was standing under the freakin’ E I F F E L  T O W E R!! How surreal!)

I decided it was probably a good idea to catch dinner before the top of the next hour so I could see the tower sparkle up close. I walked along a street of restaurants until landing inside of an Italian place. I ordered some eggplant pasta and dumped spoonfuls of Parmesan cheese. It was heavenly. I was enjoying my meal until I checked the time and realized I only had a few minutes to wrap dinner up. I frantically asked for the check and rushed out.

Seeing the tower sparkle from afar is one thing, but seeing it sparkle up close is a completely different experience. I wanted to spend the rest of my night there, right in front of the tower. I knew that that was a sight I’d never get tired of.

My Uber to the airport was at the break of dawn. I split the fare with one of Kristie’s friends who was making her own way through Europe as well.

Paris was one to remember. I can’t wait to be back (especially because I forgot to eat a baguette and croissant – wtf I know).