#he gets dirt so much and it doesn't bother him

[differenteagletragedy]

When Simon sees you at the gym, he stares. More than usual, more than what would be considered polite. He stops what he's doing, forgets his routine -- he's focused, locked in entirely on your form as you start up a treadmill.

It's not because you're pretty, although you are. It's not even because, with little glances you seem to think are subtle, you're staring back.

It's because he knows you from somewhere. He's positive he does. He just can't place you.

And it's driving him absolutely mad.

He racks his brain as he stands near the weights, doing nothing but eyeballing you. If you were army too, he thinks he'd know, so that wouldn't be it. A neighbor, maybe? No, there's the old lady across the hall and that's about it as far as his interactions go there.

Maybe you work at the grocery store. Or the petrol station. Maybe you look like some actress.

He keeps coming up with ideas of how he might recognize you, but none of them fit. It's had to have been five solid minutes at this point of him standing still, just staring like a weirdo, and there are a couple of ladies by the front desk that seem to be growing concerned. Simon glances between them and back to you, trying to pull himself away, but he needs to figure this out, he thinks, or it'll bother him for far longer than it should.

Thankfully, you nip the issue in the bud when you stop the treadmill and walk over to him.

"Can I help you with something?" you ask, eyebrow cocked.

And all of a sudden, it's the summer sun and playground dirt, a metal slide so hot it burns, and he's still him, but small and scared, cowered beneath it.

It clicks. He knows exactly who you are.

You -- the current version of you -- take a step closer, cautious but concerned, as you ask, "Seriously, what is this?"

But all he can think about is a little girl who showed him a rare bit of kindness one day at the park.

You don't recognize him, he's almost sure of it. Still, you inch a little bit closer, waiting for a response.

He doesn't give you one.

Without a word, Simon leaves the conversation. He leaves the gym entirely, out the door and into his truck while he struggles to process it.

It's been years, decades since he last saw you. And it was just one day. One single day out of thousands, and he shouldn't remember you, but he does, in startling clarity, like he's looking at a photograph instead of through his memories. You touched something inside him that day, and he swears he can feel it, even now.

He just has no idea what to do about it.

[...]

Back in the gym, you watch the man leave without a word, like he didn't owe you an explanation for staring slack-jawed at you for so long. Your eyes stay trained on his body -- not like you're making sure he's leaving, but like you're trying to figure it out.

It was a bizarre encounter, and you're not sure what to make of it, so when you see the man step into a truck and close the door behind him, you let out a sigh and go to the locker room and pull out your phone.

"There's some weird guy at the gym," you text your husband.

A moment passes, and he responds with "Some creep bothering you?"

You're not sure why, but you feel a strange protective impulse when he calls the man a "creep." He was a little strange, sure, you said as much, but there was something in his eyes when you approached him ... he didn't seem dangerous. The label didn't seem fair.

Instead of responding, you put your phone away again and start to get your things together, content to cut your session short for the day.

Tomorrow, you tell yourself. You'll come back to the gym tomorrow -- you just moved to this new town, you can get in this routine.

Everything will be fine.

[...]

Simon was never small, but he wasn't always strong. He was born a gentle boy and molded into something else, and so his earliest memories are some of the hardest ones to remember. Glimpses of when he wasn't quite able to defend himself, and when that innate, shameful need to be loved and cared for still made itself known from time to time.

There was one day, he was five or six, when he just couldn't handle being at home anymore. It felt suffocating, being inside, in a way that had nothing to do with the heat, so he slipped away and went to the neighborhood park.

He liked the swings, but they were all taken. Some toddlers were in the sandbox, more kids by the slides, and everywhere he looked there were smiles. There were mothers and fathers and happy families and he was alone, and it hurt. But not enough to leave.

Instead, he tucked himself behind one of the slides, taking a seat in the dirt.

Time passed, but the feeling of being suffocated didn't. He held his hand to the underside of the slide, feeling the metal, still hot even in the shade, but it didn't ground him. There was a pressure situated firmly in his chest that he didn't understand, and it wasn't letting up.

"Need some help?"

He wasn't expecting anyone to notice him in his spot, but when he looked for the source of the voice, he saw a little girl, about his age, smiling at him. She had her hands on her knees, bent to see him better. Simon shook his head, but instead of leaving, the girl sat down next to him.

"What are you playing?" she asked. "Can I play too?"

Even at that age, talking to another person felt like a chore for Simon, but she asked so easily, like all she had to do to be his friend was be there. He still didn't say anything, but she didn't seem to mind.

He sat in silence with the girl for several minutes, watching as she drew shapes in the dirt then swept them away with her hand, until finally he started talking. He told her about his parents and why he was at the park alone, and he told her about the creek that runs behind his house and how sometimes he can find neat rocks in the water. He told her to be careful for the slide, because it gets too hot in the sun.

And she listened, to everything. She told him things too, about her family and her house, and it was easy, for once. Before he knew it, the weight on his chest lifted enough to that he could breathe.

Just as soon as it began, it was over. Someone called the girl's name, and she scrambled up, shouting a quick "See you later!" as she left. But he didn't see her later -- he never saw her again.

Until now.

Simon is sure you're that girl. He doesn't know how he knows or why he's so certain, but he feels it. And now, all these years later, he finally has seen you again.

He's thought about it since the moment you caught his eye at the gym, ran the old memories through his head over and over. Part of him is embarrassed for remembering it all so well and for that one afternoon to have meant so much to him, especially when he's sure you forgot it as soon as it was over.

But a bigger part of him wants to make sure that he doesn't lose you again.

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

silent apologies ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ⏦ﾟ♡︎

synopsis: After deciding to go out and protect the villagers under attack by yourself, your Husband must tend to your wounds.

tags: angst, comfort, mentions of wounds/blood

a/n:ii blonde vampire men 🚬

w.c: 0.6k

⏦ﾟ♡︎ You grit your teeth as Alucard pushes a damp cloth against the wound in your side. The gash burns, it stings, but not nearly as much as the guilt crawling up your throat and urging to spill upon seeing the state of panic you’ve put your husband into.

"Hold still," he murmurs. His voice is still soft, but laced with that familiar feeling of restrained emotion, something the both of you were rather accustomed to as of late.

"I am holding still," you snap, more sharply than you intend, or wished- like a dog who doesn’t know why it bites.

His eyes flick up to yours. His amber eyes, always glowing, now dimmed.

"You went out alone." He says, still tending to you and avoiding your eyes.

"I had to. The village it was-"

"The village has their own guards. I thought we agreed- you agreed-you said you wouldn't leave the grounds without me. Again.”

You flinch- not from the cloth pressing into your tender flesh, but from the disappointment that flooded his expression.

"I just… didn't want to bother you." You confess.

Alucard freezes, the cloth in his hand soaked red.

"Is that what you think this is? A bother?" His voice is low, not dangerous, but trembling slightly enough for you to detect. "Do you think watching you bleed is something l'd rather deal with?"

You look away, throat tightening. "I didn't want you to worry."

"Well, it’s too late for that darling."

You wanted to argue. You want to say that you're not made of glass, that you've fought before, that you can take care of yourself and you don’t need him to protect you from everything in the world. But the words turn to ash when you meet his eyes again, finally, full of heartbreak.

Alucard drops the cloth and exhales slowly, letting it sink down the small bowl of water.

"When I found you...for a moment I didn’t think you were breathing." He exhales.

"I was," you whisper, reaching to hold his thumb.

"You were barely," he shoots back. "There was blood in the dirt, yours, so much I coult smell it. I thought-" He cuts himself off, jaw tightening.

You tighten your hand, shaky and weak. "But I’m here now, Adrian…”.

He doesn't speak. Just brushing a strand of hair from your face, fingers ghosting against your skin.

"I'm sorry," you add, quieter this time. "I didn't think it'd get that bad."

He exhales through his nose, trying to cool the fire beneath his chest. "That's the problem.

“You didn't think."

Your lip trembles. "Do you really think I wanted this to happen?"

"I think you're reckless when it comes to your own life," he replies bitterly. "But not mine. Or anyone else's. You would die for anyone-but never let anyone risk themselves for you."

"You're not a burden. You're my wife."

You close your eyes, tears spilling over.

"I hate that you had to see me like that."

"I'd rather see you broken and breathing than not at all," he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. "Please, listen to me now. It’s okay to need me. I want you to. As I do for you.”

Your voice is barely audible. "I don't know how to need someone without feeling weak."

"You don't need to be strong all the time," he murmurs. "Not with me. Let me carry you when you can't stand."

You nod slowly, finally allowing the weight of it all to rest on his shoulders.

"Im scared," you admit.

Alucard pulls you gently into his arms, careful of your wound. "So am I. But we'll be scared together."

He kisses your temple, your hair, the corner of your mouth. A thousand silent apologies.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[finalgale]

Sometimes I think about Sanji and his cleanliness. He washes himself once a day just like Nami and Robin do out of the whole crew.

He probably does it out of the pride of a chef right? Got to stay clean to cook! Can't make feasts with dirty clothes or body.

Or maybe if he's clean then no bugs would be interested in crawling on him. If he scrubs himself and his kitchen spotless there won't be a corner where a bug might make a home and he won't freak out.

How much dirt had been on him from that rock, how the rain water just made him feel worse. Feeling himself slowly wither away and on top of that feeling the roughness of the dirt and sea salt in his skin that never went away.

He must've felt delighted when he got a bath when they got rescued.

How he probably couldnt take off that helmet to wash his hair for seven months, caked with grime, sweat, bugs and blood. They maybe gave him a basin and towel, but it could never feel the same as a hot bath. He couldn't change his clothes, so even if he cleaned hus bidy, his clothes remained dirty rags.

He must enjoy getting cleaned. To feel in the shower washing his hair, washing away the feel of iron against his head, making sure nothing was on his hair. That he could run his hands through it and there are no knots, no clumps of mystery.

I wonder if he takes extra long sometimes, if he had bad days, scrubbing dirt he still felt on his skin that wasnt there. Or just feeling the hot water, knowing it wasn't rain, or limited lukewarm water.

I wonder if it bothers him if he gets too dirty on an island and can't wash himself right away. That a corner of his mind will always say

Or maybe it won't. Becauase another part of him reminds him of the Merry or Sunny, waiting for him to come back home, and the soaps and hot water that are waiting for him. Maybe he even enjoys getting dirty somedays, knowing that he's not too far away from getting rid of the mess, so he can indulge a little bit and horse around and relax with the others, even if it means getting messy. It's his choice now.

Because to Sanji being clean (or even getting dirty) means being free

[xjulixred45x]

That's a good question @donanimee !

When the Baby of Yuu is Born

• If we're talking about the birth itself, I think it would have happened sometime between books 6 and 7. I already mentioned that when Yuu arrived in Twisted Wonderland, she was already a month or two pregnant, so by the time those events occurred, Yuu should have been around 8 months at most. Besides, with the stress of the situation, the baby probably came out prematurely.

• Obviously, I don't think Yuu would have participated in the same way in book 6 because of the pregnancy, but let's just say that once they reached dry land, her water broke, to everyone's horror and concern.

• Riddle was the only one who more or less kept his composure and sent the others to get things for Yuu while he and Adeuce took her to Ramshakle (and Grim brought Crewel, the closest thing they had to a doctor). Ace, being Ace, had Crowley give Yuu his hand so she could squeeze it with all her might (it was cathartic and extremely necessary, thanks Ace), and the other students were calling doctors, bringing things like healing potions in case things went wrong, etc.

• It was chaos in short. The labor lasted approximately 8 hours (with luck, it could be less or MORE hours), and Yuu ends up giving birth to a beautiful baby girl.

• All the panic finally dissipates when the students hear the baby cry for the first time—a loud cry of a healthy baby :,)

• Of course, as soon as everything calms down, Crewel and Trein kick everyone out of the dorm so Yuu can have a few quality days alone with her baby (the only one who can stay is Grim).

• The first few days of motherhood are quite pleasant, fortunately. The baby is healthy and strong, she doesn't wake up much at night, and when she does, the ghosts try to entertain her so Yuu can sleep (unless she has to be fed).

• Yuu also doesn't have to worry about bringing food; several students leave things at Ramshakle's door so as not to bother her with visitors (food, blankets, clothes, etc.).

• Grim is definitely quieter than usual when the baby is born. He's partly afraid that Yuu won't love him anymore or considers him dangerous to have around the baby. But when she offers to say hello and introduces him as a BIG BROTHER... yeah, you can bet Grim cried in Yuu's arms and the baby for a looooong time.

• Riddle is one of the first allowed to visit, and he brings a ton of gifts from the Heartslabyul students (Cater, Trey, and Adeuce). He's the most tense when it comes to interacting with the baby at first. Even though he's taken all the necessary sanitary measures, he's so afraid of doing something wrong. But when Yuu helps him carry her properly and the baby sits comfortably in his arms, he melts.

• He invites Yuu over for tea more often (either to catch up on studies or because he sees that Yuu is really stressed), with the baby, of course! The students in the dorm are happy to take turns watching her so Yuu can have some quiet time. I'd say Riddle still sees Yuu as a sort of maternal/older sister figure, only now his protective instincts also extend to the baby.

• Leona is probably the last one to realistically meet the baby. He doesn't have a good relationship with the children (he can barely stand Cheka), and even if he doesn't say it out loud, he doesn't want to feel left out now that the baby is finally born (mainly because he knows it's a shitty feeling for a shitty reason). Leona only gets to meet Yuu's baby when he stumbles upon her by chance at the botanical garden (not because Yuu was looking for him and Ruggie ratted him out, not at all).

• Leona isn't very patient, but he definitely makes sure the baby is in good hands if Yuu can't watch her for a couple of hours (probably making Ruggie do all the work), preventing the baby from doing stupid things once she starts crawling and putting things in her mouth (no herbivore, don't eat dirt—or toys! You almost look like Ruggie). he acts like he doesn't care, but he'll jump out of his seat if he sees the baby with something in her mouth that shouldn't be there.

• Azul, along with the twins, have probably never seen a human baby up close—they're so small! Floyd is probably one of the first people to visit Yuu and her baby—even Jade mentions it to him when they go to Monster Lounge—and they’re surprisingly careful with the baby, especially Azul, who holds her like she’s made of glass.

• I imagine that when the baby starts walking, Yuu gets so stressed out from taking care of her AND being Crowley’s errand girl that she forgets to eat. To solve this, Azul implements something new at Monster Lounge: a baby menu! The catch is that Yuu also has to order something to eat FOR HERSELF ;) no shrimp will go hungry in their watch.

• KALIM ABSOLUTELY LOVES THE BABY! Although sadly, he couldn't take her to Scarabia because she cried so loudly during the festivities. Kalim is an EXPERT at putting babies to sleep (again, this guy has 30 younger siblings) and can play with her for HOURS. Meanwhile, Yuu and Jamil get a much-needed break from their two hyperactive children.

• I'll just say that Yuu will be lucky if her baby doesn't have a whole festival dedicated to her birthday thanks to Kalim. That, and now her food stash is stocked to the brim thanks to Jamil and Kalim (and probably some money, but shhhhh). Kalim just wants to help in any way he can.

• I like the headcanon that Vil is good with kids; by extension, I think he finds Yuu's baby absolutely adorable. Sure, he keeps a certain distance from the baby and himself because of her clothes (and also because he doesn't know what effects makeup could have on such a young baby), but he's definitely not above bringing a few things for Yuu and the baby with Rook and Epel.

• Another great one is providing a space for Yuu to care for him, especially when the baby is already a few months old or if Yuu is dealing with any consequences of childbirth. I honestly don't think Vil brings up the topic of losing baby weight right away because I think it's common sense that it's a pretty sensitive topic for women; instead, he focuses on Yuu feeling good about herself.

• Ortho was probably one of the few students allowed to come to Ramshakle every day to check on the baby's health with his scanners. Thanks to that, Idia is probably the one who is most attentive to the health of both the baby and Yuu. She almost seems like a mother hen. Is Yuu eating things with iron? Is it beneficial for pregnant women? Or maybe she should send him food with vitamin D? Is he being too creepy by monitoring this kind of things?

• Idia definitely freezes every time the baby climbs on him, just accepting his fate of being this creature's new favorite fluorescent toy (Ortho has videos of this that he shows the first years).

• Malleus, OH MY GOD, MALLEUS, remember how I told you the baby was born shortly before his Overblot? You can bet everyone was super tense with him around Yuu and the baby after that, almost like a Protection Squad.

• Then again, Malleus had no idea how human birth worked, so he definitely got really distressed when he heard Ramshakle's screams of pain, or when they told him that if they didn't act quickly either Yuu or the baby could DIE. It was like a reminder that, even giving birth to another human being, they are very fragile. Malleus was so relieved when he learned that Yuu and her daughter were okay, but the scare never fade.

• He definitely acts like some kind of weird uncle. He even talks to the baby as if she were an adult, and they have full conversations. The baby just babbles or says random words, and Malleus nods as if he understands and makes up a conversation, much to Yuu's amusement and everyone's confusion. At least Malleus can still have his nightly chats with Yuu, given how little sleep babies get.

• Ace and Deuce try to be as careful as possible with the baby, almost seeming like other people due to the kindness they show the baby in contrast to their normal selves. Although of course, they still have their tricks. Ace especially wants to teach the baby how to say his name, and when that doesn't work, he makes her learn funny nicknames for the others (like calling Riddle "red dwarf," knowing he'd never get mad at the baby).

• Deuce tries to prevent this, but it's in vain. When Yuu and they go out on campus, the baby is usually carried on one of their shoulders (they constantly fight over who is the "favorite uncle," unaware that that position already belongs to Grim).

• BONUS: THE STAFF

• Crowley definitely gives Yuu more work now because she's "no longer incapacitated," but he doesn't give her maternity leave. That is, until a mob of angry teenagers comes to his office to complain about his lack of basic human decency, and he decides to give him a month off. Every time Crowley is near the baby, she cries, but not a normal cry, no, a HYSTERICAL cry. Yuu thinks the problem might be the mask, but you can see how the baby makes faces at Crowley's voice.

• Sam always has things in stock that the baby might like, things like toys, bibs, clothes, etc. While Yuu is shopping, the baby likes to play with Sam's shadow. He thinks it's very interesting that the baby isn't afraid of them and tells Yuu that his baby has a very unique personality.

• Vargas remains essentially the same, a stereotypical gentleman who makes his students also be proper gentlemen to the ladies. If Yuu wants to join the class but has to bring the baby with her, Vargas will happily carry her while yelling at the students to move, occasionally tickling the baby, or passing her some candy.

• Trein is the ultimate babysitter. Not only does he have the experience, but the baby automatically trusts him without hesitation; he's the opposite of Crowley. Trein and Yuu remain close friends (I'd say Trein sees a lot of his daughters in Yuu), and he's willing to lend a hand if she has trouble with the baby. He's also the best source of baby-related advice at the school.

• Crewel's first reaction when the baby was able to leave school was to go shopping for clothes with Yuu, mostly matching clothes—he thinks they're the cutest thing ever! He's definitely bought her Dalmatian onesies. He definitely takes every opportunity he gets when he visits Yuu for tea to see the baby (it's like that "move bitch" meme).

• Overall, a big, dysfunctional, happy family was formed.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[sir-heichou-smith]

Being in a relationship with the 141 men but being with them for so long absolutely nothing phases you anymore.

You are absolutely disgusting with them, they are with you in turn, and not one of you could care any less.

When John reaches up to itch his jaw for the umpteenth time, you grab the tweezers from the bathroom cupboard and sit on his lap to pluck out the ingrown hairs. You could do it for hours if he let you. He massages creams and soaps onto your body during your everything showers, and in turn, you use the electric clippers to shear down his back hair when it gets too long and bothers him.

Due to sweat and dirt sticking to his mask, Simon breaks out on his face and neck. You take the time at night to scrub off the grime of the day and safely extract the clogged pores, him sitting on the toilet and you do his skincare right along with yours. Should you not feel like contorting your body in the shower, he takes a straight razor and skillfully glides it across your legs and pits. Wiping every stroke and taking care not to nick your newly soft skin. He doesn't mind and neither do you. You usually relax on the bed with a towel underneath you and a book or your phone in hand. You like the feel of his calloused hands as they move your legs where he needs them.

Johnny will come home from the field and make a beeline straight to you, picking you up and taking you to the bathroom for a much needed shower. He undresses you both and you take turns scrubbing each other thoroughly. After your post shower routines (and a bit of mild groping), Johnny will grab the nail kit from under the sink and push back your cuticles and trim your nails and the excess skin, finishing off with a clear topcoat or a color of his choice. You do the same for him, as his hands are the most prone to cracking and peeling due to handling explosives. He thanks you with his perfect grin and those lips pressed to yours.

After so many satisfying hair cleanses, Kyle trusts no one but you to take care of his curls. Missions leave his hair dry and his scalp full of dust no matter where he's deployed. He'll come home with the other three men, the first through the door and the first to take you into his arms. His lips are chapped and there are rings around his eyes and you know just what he needs for a good nights sleep. You draw him what he calls a hot lava bath with Epsom salts and eucalyptus bubbles. You wet his hair and scrub his scalp and take the time to detangle the knots while his skin soaks up the steam. When you finish, he's slumped further into the tub, practically asleep at your finger tips. In exchange, the next day he gives you a full body massage with scented oils and matching satin bonnets for you both, hair masks were washed out and scalps were dried with the cool setting on your hair dryer. You melt into the sheets together with snacks and your favorite show playing on the TV.

They aren't embarrassed to come to you for help, a pimple they can't reach or to see if they have something stuck in their teeth. You aren't embarrassed either. It's normal to groom one another, and it's a bonding experience that brings you all closer together anyway.

[manikas-whims]

LADS Men & the type of cats they are

in honor of the new quad banner ♡

RAFAYEL (Nyafayel)

🐾 picky eater, will not eat dry food and will make a yucky face at canned food, wants you to cook proper meals everyday, and wants you to diversify the meals

🐾 will knock over every article from your work desk, bedside table, kitchen counter, etc. while looking right into your eyes with his most defiant and naughty “try me” expression 😌

🐾 usually chill but will want all your attention in the presence of others; be it cats or humans..clingy af at night..will howl outside your room’s door until you let him in and let him sleep with you in bed..

🐾 also the type to wail when you leave him alone at home to go to work, and immediately smothers you with licks and rubs the moment you come back

🐾 hisses at water, will accidentally scratch you when you try to give him a bath..yet at the same time, enjoys being pampered..he's the type who sees you doing makeup & wants you to put it on him as well 🎀

XAVIER (Catvier)

🐾 a lazy cat (cats do sleep around 16~18 hours)..one of those who fall into a deep slumber and you're just left shaking and calling him, concerned..and then he just lazily yawns and looks at you with the most innocent, confused gaze 🥺

🐾 slow blinks at you at random moments to express how much he loves you..also rubs his head against your legs and purrs, wraps tail around your leg,..kinda territorial, hisses if you smell like someone else..

🐾 loves food, is kind of a glutton..you need to stop feeding him..just because he meows sadly at you every hour doesn't mean he's hungry

🐾 does those weird cat things like sleep in awful postures, might stand on two feet and stare at you n do other weird shit lol

🐾 hates being toyed with but will immediately jump at the laser pointer lol..really sharp at spotting house lizards and mouse..will immediately catch them (topple alot of stuff in the process) and bring them to you as gifts

ZAYNE (Zaynyan)

🐾 is a gentleman and doesn't disturb you..sits nearby while you work so he can easily climb into your lap and offer comfort if you start feeling stressed or tired

🐾 not very vocal but there are days when he really wants affection, and on those days, he silently approaches you, headbutts you and meows softly, patiently waiting for you to pet him 🥺

🐾 not a talkative kitty but responds to everything you say..you call his name and he'll meow with affection, you ask if he's hungry and replies with a soft yet prolonged meow, you ask if wants to play and he meows cheerfully

🐾 very well-behaved, loves self-grooming but also never bothers you when it comes to bathing and grooming..sits like a good boy even when you're trimming his nails

🐾 does the most perfect loaf, may climb onto your belly when you're lying down and loaf onto your belly lol..is a baker kitty and will start kneading when he's feeling extra affectionate

SYLUS (Meowlus)

🐾 an outdoor kitty, sometimes disappears for a day or two and just when you start feeling a little concerned, he’s tiptoeing back in through the flap in your door..may be covered in dirt or even small nicks and cuts from fights he picks with the strays

🐾 makes you chase him around the house the moment he realises you're going to give him a bath..but the moment he's put in the tub, he's actually enjoying it..might cozy up there for far longer than necessary

🐾 very confident..do not yell at him for anything because he will growl and snarl back..doesn't like it when you scold him..also the type to catch mice n other small animals but he likes toying with them for fun 😭

🐾 there are days when you come across him meowing along to some tune..he's a talented singer, also likes to sing his meows when you're preparing his meal

🐾 will not let you pet him much..like he'll let you stroke his fur for a while and then suddenly when he gets overwhelmed by it, he will bite your hand lol (my cat does this sometimes 😭) actually likes play-biting

thank you @irandial ♡ for suggesting Zayne’s kitty name

» MASTERLIST «

[dumbbitchgalore]

John's successful mission ft. his birdie 🎀

“Oi, your twit!” Heels clicking along the pavement, an storm making its way to Price who is leisurely sitting on his porch something his favourite cigar  

A smirk makes its way to his face as his eyes crinkle in the corner, John’s cerulean eyes glimmering with mischief. The onslaught of insults doesn't stop and she makes her way to him. Insult after insult spewed from her perfectly plump lips, the lipstick making them pop even more. 

‘Fuck, the same lipstick she wore on our honeymoon, couldn’t get the bloody stains off my cock of days.’ John thinks to himself as her verbal abuse sounds like the call of a siren in his ears. Alluring, enticing and dangerous. 

John shamelessly watches her walk over not batting an eye away from her tits, they were glorious because they were hers. 

She finally stops in front of John, her hands placed on her hips as she huffed in annoyance, the same hips Price’s calloused hands would grab to fuck her silly. The same hips that- 

John is broken out of his trance by her fingers snapping together. He leans back in his chair, legs spread open, inviting and familiar. He hums in acknowledgement at her finger snapping, tapping the smoke of his cigar into the ashtray. 

“Yes, birdie?” Oh that smug smirk is still there, that cocky attitude back when he was a lieutenant rises to the surface every so often even in his retirement. 

She rolls her eyes, putting up a frustrated facade so that Price doesn’t realise the continuous flutter of her pussy and the ever so slight rubbing of her thighs together. 

Oh, who was she kidding. Of course the Captain noticed. 

“You need to move your bloody ute out of my driveway. I’m already late for work and I need to drop the kids off to school.” She ways with an air of irritation covered by desperation. 

“You know, if it bothers you so much you can just move out of the guest house-” Her glare stops Price from continuing on. 

In the neighbouring home a chorus of ‘hi daddy’s’ could be heard as the two young girls dressed in their pristine school uniforms flailing their arms around to grab their father’s attention. 

A gravelly chuckle erupts from the back of John’s throat as he waves back while his birdie impatiently taps her foot on the ground. Standing up with a groan, John goes inside to grab the keys to his car.

“Alright, alright. I’m moving my car now.” John says with a smirk to calm his woman down. 

Once John moves the ute back into his own driveway, she groans exasperatedly, storming down his driveway.

“I’m signing the divorce papers this Friday.” 

John’s smirk only grew wider, “You’ve been saying that since last week, lovie.”

“I mean it now.” She says with finality before dragging their kids into her car and driving off. 

Leaning back in his chair on the porch, John lights another cigar as he stares at the tire marks left in the dirt road. 

His birdie finally talked to him in person after 3 weeks. Maybe he should break into and unscrew the kitchen sink to make it leaky and then she’ll have no option but to call John to fix it. 

John guarantees it’ll end in sex.

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: implied noncon, desperate starved reader, God!Gojo

gn reader

based on this by @hawnks

He's worshipped, but worship alone doesn’t make those who pray by his shrine his belongings.

Even pets run away when they don't like the food.

He could take lives, which suppose some of his fellow gods might view as ownership, but right when he ran out of places to wash the blood off his hands, he’d sooner found it to be an empty pastime bearing no merit.

After all, taking lives doesn't mean they belong to you—it just means they’re dead. 

He'd come to realize that the power to take is a far cry from the prospect of actually owning something—something he can truly call his. He could level a forest and everything in it, crush mountains to deserts, drink the entire ocean dry—but it wouldn’t make any of it his.

It leaves him feeling stingy when yet another measly human comes before him—on your knees with your forehead bowed in the dirt, skinny hands shaking while laid flat out before you, cracked lips crying his name.

With his chin propped in his palm, he yawns while listening to you, and with jaded eyes, he nearly dismisses you altogether. But there’d been a question he’d been mulling over lately—one that had found its way to the tip of his tongue.

“What do I get in return?”

You’re only asking for very little—one of the humbler humans who still bother praying to him. You might see it as greedy of him to ask you for something in return—a poor soul with nothing but your sorry name. But what you don’t understand is that you and he are the exact same.

Dirt poor.

In many ways, he has it a lot worse. You could die. He could not. Infinity would pan on forever and drag him with it as if with a ball and chain—and he’d remain destitute and alone for the entirety of it all.

Which is why…

“You can have me, I guess…”

It sounded so sweet—like a vow.

You say it with such defeat, as though you’ve already accepted his rejection—as though you’re about to offer yourself to the forest next—as though you're worth nothing more than returning to soil again. 

You don’t notice the new light in his eyes that threatens to swallow you whole, nor do you hear the growl in his gut like a beast awoken from a deep slumber—starved to death if he only could. His tongue swells with sweetness, it nearly runs over and spills down his chin.

Your offer hangs still in the air, poised and waiting for him to grab it, brighter than a star. It nearly frightens him—how much he wants it—how desperately he yearns for it. His fingertips buzz with thrill as he reaches out. He’s never held something like it before—soft and warm and flickering with something fleeting and precious. It almost feels wrong for him to hold it in his blood-soaked hands. Eyes all but blacked out as he looks down at it.

“Mine, you say?” 

You feel it, too, but it’s not close to the same sense of elevation—how he reaches into your chest and scribbles his name on your soul. Each letter is heavier than the last and leaves you curling in on yourself in agony, screaming before you fall silent.

Panting once you look up, you clutch your chest, only to see his sneer gone, replaced by something worse—something haunting.

The regret is palpable. You pick yourself up and take to running away—but by then, it’s too late. You don’t make it more than two steps before something has you tugged right back—this time into his embrace.

“I accept your generous sacrifice, little human.”

His words weigh awfully heavy while you shudder in his lap. His skin is like marble—shimmery and cold as his hands wrap around you, holding you tightly as he puts his lips to your neck.

"I'll take precious care of you..."

You feared he’d bite, but the kisses that commence feel no less like a collar being fastened snug around your throat. As well as his promise—like being sentenced to spend eternity right there, hand-fed under that awful smile on his face.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[ssahotchnerr]

okay imagine a reader who’s clumsy asfff, and aaron is always there to stop her from falling flat on her face ahaha

falling for you

cw; clumsy bau!reader, established relationship, aaron's injured and minor blood mentions, angst? if you squint, fluff <3

A rural town surrounded by acres of woods: a serial killer's perfect playing field. Plenty of remote, secluded places to dump victims.

The trail on which you were walking was barely passable; narrow, obstructing hanging branches, the dirt path littered with slippery rocks due to the rainstorm the night prior.

One wrong step, poor footing on an angle, could result in sliding down a steep ledge. It wasn't comparable to a cliff - an eight foot incline at least - but could easily result in injury nonetheless.

Which naturally you of all people were bound to intercept; always moving too quickly for your own good, more focused on the destination rather than the journey - ultimately feeding into your habitual clumsiness.

Aaron took notice of the rock slab before you did, reaching out suddenly to grab at your arm the second your foot took a dive off the side. While you managed to escape unscathed due to his heroism, he wasn't as fortunate.

You had coerced him onto the passenger seat - if it were up to him, the two of you would've continued to the crime scene - cleaning and bandaging the bloody gash on his forehead yourself. He hadn't fallen, but knocked into a firm, solid branch, as well as scraped his arm on another, ripping his sleeve in the process.

"Stop moving so much."

Aaron's chest huffed in a faint laugh, "I'm not even moving."

A subtle glare came from you, "You could be concussed."

"I'm not concussed. Banged up maybe, but not concussed."

"Maybe?" The sight before you tore at your heart, Aaron's pretty face scraped up. "You mean definitely. And prove it."

A clever, amused expression formed on his face, "The United States government consists of-"

"Okay, okay." You surrendered with a playful eye roll, dismissing his impending recitation.

Admittedly you were flustered, solely for the fact that it should've been you - the one bumped up and bleeding. Your bottom lip was sticking out in a pout, cleaning his wound with an alcohol wipe.

He winced briefly at the sting, eyes watching your movements. "I know what you're thinking."

"You should've let me take the fall." As if by clockwork, the bandaid in your hand fell onto the wet asphalt. Annoyedly you reached down to pick it up, hastily tossing it to the SUV's floor before grabbing a fresh one from the first aid kit.

Aaron scoffed lightly, "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious," Your lip jut out even more, pulling your gaze to his exasperatedly. "Or Morgan should've at least accompanied you."

"Sweetheart, you know I'm in better company when you're around."

"He's more coordinated than I am," you insisted, your fingers fumbling together as you peeled the bandaid open, smoothing it over his broken skin. Carefully. You repeated the same for the gash on his forearm. "He can duck and leap from side to side without a second thought, has a much faster reaction time and, well, he's Morgan."

"Sweetheart-"

"He's not clumsy," you huffed out, crumbling the plastic in your fist. Your clumsiness, as incredibly inconvenient as it was, had never 'bothered' you to an extent.

But now that you had caused Aaron to get hurt, everything changed. It was a surprise it hadn't happened sooner, and it was only a matter of time before you caused another incident. One with a larger, more menacing result.

"In a terrain that's damp and woodsy and has twigs and leaves poking out, I should be the farthest person away," you rambled, covered with guilt. "Why they even let me join the field in the first place... I don't know."

"Because you're an outstanding profiler, have a keen eye that catches details the rest of us overlook, never backs down despite heinous barriers. Must I go on? I can, the list is quite extensive."

"Regardless, it doesn't excuse the fact I'm accident prone." You insisted, your sentence ending on a deep sigh.

"You aren't-"

"Aaron," you interrupted, "how many times have you reached out to stop me from flying into a table, or have reminded me to slow down. Look what just happened."

"You didn't fall because you're clumsy, honey. You fell- no, tripped because it rained and your shoes lacked the proper traction."

"But because of me, you're hurt." Your voice wavered the smallest amount, you could cry if pushed.

"And I'd do it again if it meant saving you." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, eyeing the CSI agents not too far away. "And again," Another kiss, this time on your lips, "and again. It's a small price to pay if you're unharmed."

"Kissing me at a crime scene? You must be concussed." You quipped softly, lips itching to smile. Although you wanted to continue sulking, he was making it awfully difficult.

A laugh exited him; the rare laugh of his that minimal people experienced, and one that could lift your spirits in less than a milli-second. "How many times do I need to tell you? I'm not concussed."

You still weren't convinced - your inelegant tendencies not to disappear by morning - but you did feel better compared to how you felt five minutes ago. "Thank you."

Your hand grabbed onto his arm lovingly, a grateful gesture, but produced an immediate flinch from Aaron.

Your eyes widened in horror, heart nearly stopping, "I'm so-"

"You're welcome." Aaron stopped you, grabbing your hand and providing a reassuring squeeze. His expression was kind, compassionate although you should've been the one soothing him.

You exhaled deeply after a moment, readjusting his rolled-up cuff sleeve. "I owe you a new shirt too."

He smiled, his hand lifting to chuck you under your chin gently. "I'll add it to your tab."

[eph3merall]

dealer!chris x innocent!bff!reader hcs 🦌

dealer!chris . . . who always has a part of his mind thinking about you. what are you up to? classes? work? friends? hangouts? he'll text you and pretend to not care much, but deep down he just doesn't want to admit how much he worries over this girl who is just his friend.

innocent!bff!reader . . . loves and adores all things autumn. her clothes are fall staples that include lots of denim and earthy tones. so whenever she's hanging out with chris and sees something to add to her closet or keep as a trinket or decoration, she'll look up to chris with pretty lil' eyes and how could he deny her? sometimes he'll purposefully look away and shove her away from the store because she keeps burning a hole through his pocket.

dealer!chris . . . despises situations where innocent!bff!reader roped into his 'job'. there are shady people buying some strong shit from him, and he knows matt would also screw him over if innocent!bff!reader got harmed because of him. matt sees you as a best friend, someone he needs to protect because his brother is a little fucking stupid sometimes. dealer!chris always tries avoiding problems when it seems as if you're gonna get involved with any of his deals.

innocent!bff!reader . . . who's had a boyfriend or two before. she's just never had sex, and once she told chris he was laughing at her and giggling with his eyes all red. 'fuckin'... you're jokin', right kid?' and when she tells chris she's dated less than five people he's laughing harder. gosh, what an asshole.

dealer!chris . . . always carries a lighter with a printed cat photo on it that innocent!bff!reader glued/taped onto it. keeps a picture of her in his wallet as well—a polaroid of her awhile back in the winter, running into the horizon as snow fell around her frame. he could hear the giggles she made just by looking at the photo.

innocent!bff!reader . . . who has severe nosebleeds once every few months or so. it'll get so bad to the point she's crying because she thinks she's gonna die—with chris grumbling all annoyed with his hand fisting her hair so it doesnt get caked in blood. sometimes hes high and just stares at times while she yells at him to get her a hairtie or to grab ahold of most of her hair.

dealer!chris . . . who's, again, literally just an asshole to everyone. you're barely an exception. one second he'll be laughing with you and once he's with a buyer or some of his friends, he'll act like you're some dirt on his shoe. plus he's just plain ol' mean. wont take bullshit from anyone, not even his brothers. matt pisses him off more than nick does. but of course, they're his brothers. so he isnt.. that mean.

innocent!bff!reader . . . who grew up sheltered from everything in life. her parents are overprotective and she's their only child—only serving to make them more anxious when she's out. met chris through nick since the two were in a class together. something clicked and they've been hanging out ever since, usually in groups. chris and his friends are nott a good influence on her. but her mother doesn't have to know, does she?

dealer!chris . . . lovess cute coupley things. he just won't ever admit it to anyone he knows, not even his brothers if they ask or jab at him. secretly, he loves it when innocent!bff!reader hugs him tight or brushes her fingers across his skin. but he'll always stick to his go-to response—a scoff and he's pushing her away, muttering some shit like 'god, fuckin'.. annoying as hell always touchin' me.'

innocent!bff!reader . . . tries getting herself off with her fingers for the first time in awhilee since meeting chris because he just makes her feel so weird. all hot and bothered and it's gotten so overwhelming that humping her pillow alone in her dorm room isn't enough, so she's sliding her fingers inside her cunt slowly and mewling all softly in the privacy of her dorm room. she doesn't even realize that she secretly wants chris to see her like this.

dealer!chris . . . fucks with girls left and right. a new chick at each party that he sells some drugs to, and, if they're pretty enough.. he'll let them suck his dick or something. hey, he got to cum down some pretty brunette's throat and got a fat stack of cash? win-win. but when he met innocent!bff! reader... she went to house parties with him sometimes. which resulted in him not getting to fuck a girl's throat-which also resulted in dealer!chris fucking his own fist at night with the thought of you in his head.

—

©eph3merall 2024

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

older brother touya au, endeavor is still an asshole, shouto interacts w his siblings lol, bby shouto, hyper active kinda rough reader (you tackle shouto), shouto and touya have an unspecified age gap but i was thinkin like 10 years (so touya is 17 and shou is 7), just a liiiil bit angsty but mostly fluffy, lemme know if i missed sum else !

touya knows his little brother shouto is kinda weird.

he rarely ever sees him happy, or with any sort of emotion on his face for that matter. he has little habits that he hates not being able to follow and he's incredibly nit picky about them. he doesn't outwardly emote but that doesn't mean he couldn't be bratty when he wanted to be, cus he is but that's also about super specific weird stuff like what he wants to have for dinner (which always ends up being cold soba anyways).

he's also not much of a talker. he's a little shy, but he also just doesn't like talking. it's impossible to miss the huge red scar around his eye, he doesn't like to play outside and roughhouse like touya did when he was his age and he still doesn't have any friends at school. shouto never seemed to be bothered by it, though touya assumes that his peers might find him weird too.

except they better not, because touya's the only one who can call his brother weird. and deep down, he worries a little for him.

until he comes back home from school, his sweater is tucked out and there's a dirt stain on it. his hair is messy and his backpack is haphazardly closed, his little notebooks propped inside and his pencil case threatening to fall out.

natsuo, the one charged to pick him up that day, sheepishly scratches at his neck "he won't tell me what happened to him." he explains as touya practically charges towards shouto, he doesn't look hurt, so his older brother roughly turns him around to check his bag.

" but i told you what happened, natsu-nii."

"you don't have to lie, shouto--"

"what happened to you ?" touya cuts in, looking inside his brothers bag to check if nothing was missing, it looks intact from what he can tell.

"i played with my friend." shouto says simply, like that explains why he looked like he'd just walked through a hurricane. touya already knows he's gonna get an earful about this from his father. he inwardly groans.

"you sure your friend didn't just mug you ?" he flips his brother around and shouto's little arms flail as he does, unbothered by his brother's rough treatment. he tilts his head, touya sighs.

"bully you, i mean."

shouto's eyes widen, then he hurriedly shakes his head, denying him ever getting bullied and simply claiming he was playing. touya shares a look with natsuo, who looks just as unconvinced as him at his brothers words.

"who's this friend of yours, shou ?"

"yn."

"yn ?" both brothers say at the same time. shouto nods and touya catches a small little glint in his eyes as he looks back at him "she's really nice."

"this doesn't seem nice. you look like you got robbed." touya furrows his brows, sneering at his brothers dirty shirt. he starts dragging the youngest toward the bathroom. hopefully he'd be fully clean before their father got home and he wouldn't have to get in trouble. for god knows what reason. enji todoroki would probably find a way to place the blame on him, something about how he should've been the one to pick him up or gotten there earlier he guesses.

"yn likes to play games where you move around a lot." is what he offers as explanation. touya hums absentmindedly as he ushers his brother into the bathroom, deciding on how he should deal with his youngest brother's first ever bully. because of the age gap he doubts the kid is any smaller than his brother is, so he thinks he'll probably just try to scare off whoever this yn is.

"how 'bout i pick you up from school tomorrow and i can meet yn. that sound good ?" and shouto excitedly nods at the idea, gushing about how funny and nice you are and that you share your snacks with him. it's weird how fondly he talks about his bully, but touya knows his brother's always been a little weird, he probably has no idea what's happening to him. the thought makes him frown just a bit harder.

the next day after school, touya is already at the gates before they've even opened ready to scare the pants off of his brothers harasser. he sees shouto walking out of the gates with a few other kids, alone. the little boy perks up once he sees him and sends him a high wave, which touya returns with one of his own lazier one's.

"where's your friend ?" he tries his best not the spit the word too venomously, shouto doesn't seem to notice.

"yn is coming. her bag isn't closing well, so she told me to go ahead without her." he explains, reaching for his brother's hand absentmindedly.

touya is about to respond when he hears yelling. yelling that gets closer and closer to them until he notices too late that a little person is rushing towards his brother. before he can pull him out of the way the person has jumped onto shouto and knocked the both of them onto the ground. and touya watches flabbergasted as his younger brother does not look surprised at all, like shit like this just happened every tuesday. his mouth falls open when the little girl that had charged into his brother excitedly starts hopping slightly on top of him.

"shouto !"

"hi, yn."

touya is going to fucking lose his mind.

you get closer to shouto's face still sitting on him, touya assumes to make sure he could hear you even thought he doubts he couldn't before. " i thought ya left without me, i couldn't see you !"

shouto shakes his head, still on the floor "i said i would wait for you." he says seriously. and you practically beam, nudging your cheek to his and rubbing it against his affectionately. shouto doesn't seem fazed by it, but he definitely doesn't seem angry.

you don't seem like a bully, at least.

you finally realise you're not alone, looking up at touya strangely "who're you ?" you ask bluntly. shouto responds before he could. "touya- nii's my older brother, he's the one i wanted to show you."

you don't seem like a bully, especially not when you immediately turn to shouto the moment he opens his mouth, holding onto every word you hear. your eyes widen looking between touya and him, "that's your brother ?!" shouto nods proudly. you finally get off of him allowing shouto to get up too.

"coool !" you exclaim, but then you quickly turn towards shouto " but you're cooler, shouto !" shouto's eyes widen, before he almost bashfully looks away, claiming that his touya-nii is was way cooler than him. touya has never seen his brother this expressive before. it might not be much for others, and if he were anybody else he'd think so too. but even the fact his brows raise when you speak and he actually engages in conversation with you, as short as he keeps it, is surprising.

but from that small interaction, he can assume that you're not a bully. and he understands why his brother looked like he got jumped yesterday.

you're so much more different then him though, it's weird. you're hyper and giggly and chatty. you jump around and you can't seem to pull yourself away from shouto, who really doesn't seem unhappy although you're a bit rough about it. it’s like you’re glued to him.

shouto who barely even talks to his family talks to easily with you, even though you start the conversation all the time. shouto who only ever eats cold soba gleams at your promise to bring more snacks to share with him, like you apparently do every day. and shouto who touya barely ever sees emote, smiles when you tell him something funny. he can't tell wether his little brother smiles because he actually finds what you said funny or because you do. but whatever it is, it's making him happy.

touya is so shocked simply staring at his brother interact with another human being that he fails to use the little 'leave my brother alone if you know what's good for you.' speech he'd practiced the night before and suddenly you have to go. waving at him and shouto (not before hugging him with all your might first), who sadly waves back as he watches you leave. though he cheers up just a bit when with a last wave you tell him that you'll see him tomorrow.

touya, despite not having said a word feels incredibly tired, so he starts pulling his brother along home with him.

"so..that was your friend."

shouto nods "yn." he says.

"yn." touya parrots, eyes drifting from his brother to the road ahead of him. "she's kinda weird, huh ?"

at that, shouto's eyebrows furrow hard and he furiously shakes his head, tugging at his brother’s hand "no. she's nice." he corrects adamantly. touya stares at his brother, before looking away again "right.." he sighs "well, she seems to like you a lot."

his little brother nods again, a faint smile forms on his face "cus the people in class are mean to her. cus she's new and they say she's weird, but i don't think she is." he rambles, he actually rambles, touya blinks. he doesn't think he's ever been more surprised than he's been today. "yeah ?" is all he utters.

"yeah. people think i'm weird too, but yn says she thinks i'm cool." touya's eyes soften at his brothers words. he raises his arm up so his little brother is slightly lifted in the air. "course you're cool, you're my little brother." smiling softly to himself when shouto giggles.

touya knows that his little brother is weird, but he doesn't have to be worried anymore. cus it seems you like him, that you think he's cool and that you're weird too, in your own way. shouto keeps coming back home with dirty clothes and messy hair after that, but with happy and satisfied eyes and little candies he shares with his siblings that he made them promise to keep a secret. and he thinks his little brother will be fine, as weird as he is.

[hairmetal666]

Steve doesn't date, not anymore. He goes to bars, clubs, picks people up and makes it clear it's just for the night; that it can't, won't, be for anything more.

He falls too fast and too hard; wants so badly to be loved that he loses himself to it. So, he doesn't date and he's fine. More than fine, actually. Not worrying about finding someone, about falling in love, lets him truly enjoy his life; maybe for the first time since childhood.

He goes with Robin to visit her parents in Hawkins, wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run. With the sun barely up, he doesn't expect to come face-to-face with Eddie Munson, smoking on a park bench.

They startle each other in the early Hawkins quiet, Eddie jumping hard enough that he drops his cigarette into the dirt at his feet.

"Christ, Harrington!" He snarls a little.

"Fuck, Eddie." Steve fights to catch his breath. "What are you doing out this early?"

He glances up, finds Eddie's eyes raking over this body in a way that makes him go hot all over.

"Haven't been home yet." Eddie smirks. And he can see that's true, Eddie is fully dressed, faint lines of mascara trail across his cheeks.

"Had a show?"

"Something like that." Eddie's cheeks pink, and he pulls a chunk of hair over his face.

Understanding dawns, and Steve points at him, delighted laugh bubbling in his throat.

"Don't--"

"You had an all night Hellfire meeting?" Steve cackles.

"Shut--Harrington, shut-up." But he's smiling too. "I'm in town this weekend. Dustin insisted!"

"You can tell him no, you know?" Steve giggles.

"Like you ever could."

Eddie stands then, and they hug, quick and tight. He practically crumbles into his friend's body, but then, that's nothing new. Steve breathes him in, immediately comforted by the familiarity of tobacco and leather and sweat and weed.

"I'm at Rob's. Come say hi?"

Eddie nods and they trek back together. They kept in touch, after Vecna, and their chatting is easy, like it's not been six months since the last time.

Eddie stays for breakfast tells them with a smile, "I was gonna call but--I'm moving to Chicago. That's why I'm crashing at Wayne's for now, stopped on the way--"

The rest of his words are smothered by the force of Steve and Robin's hug, Steve's heart beating an elated rhythm he doesn't bother investigating.

--

When Eddie makes it to town, they hang out as constantly as an adult with a day job and a touring musician can. It's nice, good, to see Eddie sitting on their couch. To watch him smoke a joint on the balcony. To hangout in his bed as he works on new music. It's just like the summer of '86, before they all went off to find their futures.

They're closer than they've ever been. Crashing at each other's apartments, sharing clothes, meeting for coffee and drinks and meals. There's not a day or night when they're free that they don't spend together.

Steve knows he's falling for Eddie; was halfway there already, and now--well, Eddie's beautiful and funny and smart and talented. He doesn't make a move, though. Because Eddie'll leave, like they all do, and losing Eddie will crush him more than anyone else ever has.

--

In June, Eddie's gone for a month, touring across the midwest. The day he's expected back, Steve's in the kitchen, rolling up fresh pasta, simmering sauce on the stove.

Robin stomps in, eyes flashing. "What are you doing?"

"Making dinner?" Steve raises an eyebrow.

"Steve."

"Robin."

They glare at each other across the kitchen. Steve breaks first. "What's wrong with making our friend dinner?"

"I don't want either of you to get hurt."

Steve freezes, swallows. "I'm not--I'm--I wouldn't."

"Just. Promise you'll be careful?"

He nods, squeezes his hands into fists. "Course, Rob."

And he means it, he really does, but when Eddie lets himself in, Steve runs to the doorway to pull his friend into a tight hug.

Eddie huffs out a burst of air on impact, laughing lightly. "Miss me, sweetheart?"

"So much," Steve whispers. He presses his nose into Eddie's neck, breathing him in, and he doesn't miss the way a kiss is pressed into his hair, the way Eddie's breathing him in too.

They fall into their natural rhythm immediately, Eddie following him to the kitchen, cooing and posturing that Steve made him dinner.

As Steve serves up the food, Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, leaning against his back. God help him, but Steve can't help relax into the hold, turning his head until their eyes meet.

Desire bleeds from Eddie's gaze, and Steve's breath hitches. He wants this so badly, knows he shouldn't, but he lets himself lean in until they share air.

But--he can't lose Eddie. He can't.

He turns away, lets the moment die. Eddie doesn't stay over that night, and Steve pretends like it doesn't make his stomach hurt.

--

They aren't as close after that.

Steve keeps telling himself it's because they're busy. The school year's starting up, Steve's got lesson plans to write; Eddie made an EP, it got interest, he's taking meetings in New York and LA. It's okay that they're spending less time together.

Until Eddie stops returning his calls.

He tries not to worry. But one call becomes two, becomes three, and he can't help it. He goes over, dread a knot in his stomach. Eddie opens the door, and he's shirtless with sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair loose and streaming around his shoulders. He looks happy.

"Steve? What are you--"

"You weren't answering my calls, and--can I come in?"

Eddie winces. "It's not a good time, Harrington."

He stands there for a second, stung, not sure what to say.

"Eddie, I--"

"Babe?" A voice calls from inside the apartment. "Who's at the door?"

Steve freezes. Can't think, can't move. He hopes it isn't obvious that his heart is shattering, but Eddie's blinking at him, panic written in the lines gathering on his forehead.

"Steve, Stevie, please," Eddie is saying, but he can't do this. He can't do this.

He walks away, all the way home, numb to everything around him.

The phone's ringing when he gets to the apartment. He ignores it. Goes to his room, locks himself in, crawls into bed.

The phone keeps ringing. He keeps ignoring it.

It isn't supposed to be like this. They weren't dating, weren't trying for a relationship; Eddie's supposed to be his. He curls into himself, sobs until his ribs hurt, until his eyes are as heavy as his heart, and he falls asleep.

--

Steve startles awake, disoriented, to someone knocking on his bedroom door. He has no idea what time it is, how long he slept, but he expects Robin to be waiting in the hall.

It's Eddie. Hair in a messy bun, face flushed, eyes too bright.

"I'm sorry," falls out of Steve's mouth before he can think of anything else.

"Steve, I--I don't--" Eddie shakes his head. "Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"

"Yes," Steve whispers. "But I can't lose you, Eddie."

Eddie reaches out, slender hand, cupping Steve's jaw. "I need you to really listen when I say this, sweetheart. You will never, ever lose me. Not a chance."

"You can't know that," Steve says. Tears break free, cascade down his cheeks. "I used to think who could ever leave me? You know, back before Nancy. But I realized that actually no one would stay. And I can't--with you I can't--"

"Sweetheart," Eddie chokes on a sob. "I'm yours. Have been for years. I will never, ever leave you, no matter what we are to each other. But I can't be in some of a relationship with you. You have me wrapped around your finger, and I--I need it all, Steve."

"I want you to have it, Eddie." He presses his hand to his heart. "This belongs to you, but I--I couldn't survive you leaving."

"I would stay, Steve. I will. I promise on everything I have, everything I am, that you would never, ever lose me."

Steve stumbles into Eddie's arms, totally gone, and their mouths meet in a clumsy kiss. It wrecks Steve, tears him apart, renders him down to his smallest parts only to build him back together. He knows now for certain that there is no one else in the world for him.

They break apart, but don't move out of each other's orbit. "I love you," Steve whispers.

"Stevie, sweetheart, I love you more than anything." His fingers wind their way into Steve's hair, gentle, holding him. "I promise you'll have me for forever--fuck, longer than forever. My soul will find yours wherever we end up. I swear it."

[pomefioredove]

housewardens + Jamil and Floyd with a reader that plays volleyball please

I think of reader as yuu, but it's not needed to be specified, and NRC doesn't really have volleyball as one of the sports that I know of. so whether it's not a thing in their world or just not at their school, I think it'd be cool to see how the characters react to the reader playing during gym, free time, or for some outside of school club or whatever. it'd be amazing if reader could be a libero, because that's my position, but it doesn't have to be specified

but like, js imagine reader is yuu and so they taught one of the students how to play bc it's not at NRC amd now they play literally whenever they can

I don't know anything about volleyball but I tried 🫡🫡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ volleyball player reader

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jamil, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

am I crazy to think that Riddle would be into it? seeing as he's somewhat of an athlete himself (equestrian club), he knows the sort of discipline and dedication it takes to truly master a sport

he'll offer to help you organize an ~official~ club, but you don't seem too bothered about it. he finds it endearing that you can wake up in an entirely different world, almost die every other month, and still have the motivation to pursue what you love, anyway

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you'd better be careful around Leona, or you'll end up at morning Spelldrive practice in his place (hehe)

so, you don't have any magic. and? you know how to throw and catch, and that's good enough for him. hell, you're better than most of the magical first years. plus, you're motivated, you're responsible, and Leona Savanaclaw could use someone like you around

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

when Azul sent the tweels to dig up some dirt on you, he wasn't expecting this. like, okay, he underestimated you. he was hoping for something more... exploitable. if only he had a use for volleyball...

oh, well. you're still worth watching, currently useful or not. athletic skill is nothing to sneeze at, especially from a native land-dweller. he might need those legs of yours someday, you know

...wait, that came out wrong

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

no one really bothers looking for Floyd when he doesn't show up to basketball club. not because they don't care, but because it's not worth the time. if he really doesn't want to be found, you just won't find him

of course, the one day Jamil has to leave club early, he walks in on the two of you in the courtyard, playing volleyball

all this time, Floyd had been skipping club to watch you play another ball game just a few minutes away. he's absolutely captivated, too. like a cat with a laser pointer

as unamused as he is, Jamil knows it's absolutely useless to lecture him, so he just... sits and watches you play, too

and, well... he gets it. you're an interesting person, you know?

after that, he figures you may as well join the basketball club

...if only to give you a better place to practice, and to keep Floyd indoors

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

bro if you asked, Kalim would have an entire court built for you. actually, you wouldn't even have to ask. just one mention about how NRC has no volleyball club, and he'd have a team just for you by noon

if you refuse, he's still supportive. and really, really fascinated. he's not as much of an athlete as you or Jamil, which just makes it all the more impressive to him. he'll ask you to explain the game and your position over and over again, even while watching you play

he also just likes hearing your voice, so :)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

if there's anything Vil can admire, it's dedication. another thing? passion. being an athlete, or, really, having any serious hobby, demands both of those things

here's the thing; he could already tell. he didn't have to stumble across you during practice (as if he would stumble at all smh). your form, the way you carry yourself, even parts of your personality were context enough

and while he may not say it, he holds a high opinion of you. you can legit get out of VDC training by just saying you're going to practice

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you may think that Idia isn't going to go for the jock type, but, actually, one of his favorite animes is about volleyball and-

yeah, yeah. you get it. he's smitten

if he ever gets over his crushing fear of talking to you, you'll never get him to shut up. seriously. he already knows everything there is to know about the game, but that doesn't mean he's not going to ask you to explain everything all over again (he's totally fangirling over this). and sevens forbid you give him a demonstration...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

there's probably not volleyball in Briar Valley. right. I just can't picture that. so the first time Malleus observes you in practice, he's amazed, fascinated even. and he has a lot of questions. good ones!

you could probably convince him to play with you, which would be, uh. interesting? actually he's weirdly an amazing player

you could get all of Diasomnia to form a team, somehow. like I know they'd be abnormally good at it

[lets-try-some-writing]

the duality of an autobit having their kid fall asleep inside them

aww they trust me to keep them safe while i drive

and

...they are drooling in me oh no ew ew ew ew ew ew

honourable mention: arcee, who instead of getting either of those was met with the reality of balancing jack on top of her while he was out and not crashing or dropping him, which would kill him

Y e s

On one hand, the bots are honored to have their little ones trust them so much. On the other hand...

Gross.

I imagine they even have a few little rules just to keep things decent. For Arcee, the rule is that Jack is NOT getting on her while his hands are all greasy. Sweat is acceptable because it washes off easy, but if he gets off work with oil or other things on him, that's a no go. Get a rad and clean up, then we roll.

Ratchet has had so much crap to carry around over his life that one of the kids drooling or passing gas won't bother him too much, aside from maybe an internal grimace. But what will get him is food crumbs. Bodily functions are acceptable. They aren't really able to be helped. But NO ONE is allowed to eat while riding with him because getting crumbs into his internals is the same as getting sand stuck in a swimsuit and he won't have it. He got a french fry stuck somewhere and he could feel that sucker going stale in there until he got Raf to grab it.

Optimus is generally chill as can be when it comes to carrying around people in his alt-mode. He's too old and too nice to care more often than not. The only thing he will not tolerate is foul language. You ride with Prime, you use every word in the book except an actual curse. For him its just a matter of peace. Driving around is calming for him, and he would rather not have it ruined by curses, thank you.

Bulkhead has a personal vendetta against snoring, but that's only because he hung around with enough wreckers for the sound to quite literally make him unable to recharge. It's a trauma response. If a kid passes out in the back and starts snoring, he's turning up the radio to cover it or wake them up. Either works for him.

Bumblebee is the one bot who has issues with muddy shoes. He's a scout, he's used to grime. But for goodness sake, if one more kid jumps into his alt-mode with mud covered shoes, he's going to lose it. He can handle a little dirt, just not the globes that come from shoes. So unless the situation is serious, he requires his passengers to rub their shoes on the grass or something.

Smokescreen doesn't like small humans in him, period. He can handle Jack because Jack has already been trained to not bring weird fluids into a bot's alt-mode by Arcee. but the others? Nope, he's not doing that unless he has to. He does NOT want drool in him.

Ultra Magnus refuses to let humans ride unless specifically asked. It's nothing personal really. But if he had to pick someone to ride with him, it would be Fowler. At least he knows to not screw up anything.

Wheeljack has no problems with anything brought in. He just doesn't want fingers being jammed into his AC system or anything, thank you.

[sweetverine]

purrfect family | old man!logan

chapter one : first meeting.

summary : you stumble upon a stray cat living in an alley, abandoned and in need of a home. unable to resist her big green eyes and soft purring, you name her Misty, and Logan? he's not pleased at all.

warnings : none!

a/n: yayyy i wanted to make a mini-series about old man!logan with a cat he doesn't want, Logan makes a small appearance in this chapter, i promise that in the next one there will be more of him and his relationship with the new member of the family. i inspired Misty in my cat! she really resembles the cat in the pic... well nothing else, i hope you enjoy (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

A warm autumn afternoon, you were walking through the streets eager to get to your apartment, the shift hadn't been as heavy as you thought it would be. It could have been worse really, it always can be. You crossed the street carefully, since it was rush hour it was somewhat crowded with cars. The breeze hit your skin and made your hair flutter. It was comforting, the last few days have been humid and hot, really making it difficult to do anything.

Passing by an alley you found five cats, several meowing sounds came from there, with curiosity you took off your headphones, walking there with caution, the sound of your footsteps scared the other felines there, They quickly hid, feeling threatened. Only one remained and sat looking at you, starting walking towards you, and rubbing against your legs with the tail up.

“hello there…” You said softly, your voice became higher pitched, caressing the furry friend who rubbed its head against your hand, seeking your warmth and more pampering from you, he or she? was a cute little thing.

you figured out she's a girl. How had she gotten here? Who had such a rotten heart as to abandon her? You sighed, looking at her more closely.

Her fur was light gray, with some cream-colored spots on her body. She had a larger one on her right eye of the same color. Her paws were white Her eyes were green and big, looking at you with curiosity. She seemed fine, she didn't really have any injuries, just dirt from living on the street. you really wanted to keep her. Take her home and give her the food she needs. You couldn't help but want to keep her, especially if she stared at you with that look, as if she were waiting for you to take her with you to the apartment.

You thought about Logan, you never had a conversation about animals, you never knew if he would want a cat, the answer would be probably no, but you don't think it would bother him much, besides who can resist that little face?

You took her in your arms with a smile, the cat began to purr non-stop, even trying to knead you, closing her eyes while settling into your jacket. She looked like an adult, but she wasn't that big. You got up and started walking toward a pet shop a few blocks away, you bought a small cat litter box and pebbles to fill it, some food too. Things were getting a bit difficult for you to balance everything, but you were managing well, you bought her food too.

Pets were allowed in the apartment, so you wouldn't have a problem with that. You changed faster, arriving home. You left the large bag on the floor while you reached into your purse. rummaging through it to find the keys. the cat was peacefully asleep, her chest rising and falling slowly with a relaxed expression, you finally found what you were looking for, opening the door to your sweet home

You went all the way inside, closing the door behind you. You made a noise, causing your furry friend to get up. You placed her on the floor, where she simply stretched while letting out a long yawn. After a few seconds, she started to walk, and her big eyes began to look around curiously.

You let her explore, make herself comfortable, you focused on yourself, taking off your jacket and leaving your purse on the couch. You collapsed onto the couch, relaxing your muscles and taking in the comforting smell of home. In your mind, you just hoped Logan wouldn't get mad at the arrival of the cat.

You decided to think of names. Which one would best represent her? So far, she seems lovely.. maybe ivy? Anna? how about liv? hmm.. lolly? oh! Misty! sounded so good, that's going to be her name. Misty.. how cute.

You decided to go look for her, looking in the kitchen, bathroom and finally you found her under your bed, loafing. You smiled. "Hi Miss Misty .. it's your new name, I hope you like it” She gave you a raspy meow, as if she were responding to her new name.

You left her alone and went to your closet, removing your clothes and putting on more comfortable clothes, one of Logan's t-shirts and your pajama pants. As you headed to the kitchen, Misty decided to follow you. You grabbed a small container and opened her food. She meowed; obviously hungry. your hands placed the chicken-flavored croquettes on her plate, putting the plate in a place in the kitchen, the cat ran straight to the plate, desperately eating.

You shook your head and took another small container filling it with water and putting it next to her food. The sounds of keys trying to open the door began to sound behind it, the air caught in your throat, you adjusted your hair, coming out of the kitchen to greet him.

Logan opened the door, relieved to see you, his tense shoulders relaxing at finally being home. He'd arrived early today. “night, princess.” he lets out in a low voice, His hands around your waist, pulling you closer for a short, loving kiss. His beard grazes your cheeks, making you laugh a little.

“night, Lo.” You said, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“You smell different today." He wrinkled his nose; his senses weren't as sharp as they used to be, but it was impossible for him to miss the scent of a cat. He raised an eyebrow, searching for an answer.

“Well.. about that..” You said, looking down a little with a smile. “I found a cat…” you said excitedly about continuing with your story. Logan almost immediately understood and interrupted your story with a curt “No.”

“don't tell me that you…” His hand left your waist, grunting as he squeezed his temple.

“I was alone and I couldn't leave her there! She was crying and looking for a mommy." You said, making excuses, trying to talk him out of it.

“and you're so sweet that now she thinks you're her damn mother?” Logan sighs, taking his hand away from his face.

you nodded slowly, with a wide smile. Obviously playing, she didn't really need a mother, just somewhere to live, and then, Misty appeared, sitting in the kitchen doorway, looking specifically at Logan.

He looked away from you to see the cat staring at him, examining him from a distance, almost giving him a judging look. He tried to stay calm. Now this fur ball would live with them? She would surely scratch the couch, and steal HIS place of lounging, fill his clothes with hair and snoop around in all his things. But the worst part? Now you'd have all your attention on her. It's not that he was jealous of a cat; he's too old for that, right?

“Her name is misty.” You said, looking at her too, with a smile.

“I don't care what her name is. I don't want her near me. I don't want that cat.” He says, shaking his head, Walking toward the bathroom with heavy steps, you closed your eyes, sighing, trying to find patience.

You walked over to Misty again, gently stroking her head. “he'll get used to you, I promise.”

[goodeapple]

pedal to the metal (cregan s. modern hotd pwp o.s.)

pairing : Cregan x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : MDNI PWP, hate sex babyyy! cunnilingus (creg's a munch, let's talk about it), p-in-the-v, doggystyle, sex in a public place, misogynistic language/illusions, brat taming, general yummy stuff

word count : 3,500+

note : two updates? in less than two weeks? who is sheeee. but actually, i have a nasty sinus infection and i feel like a hot air balloon so any love from ya'll would cure me. all my love, always xx

.

.

.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Your money's no good here." Cregan rumbles, letting his eyes roam leisurely down the enchanting bends and blooms of Ysilla's body. 

The dress she's slid into is nothing short of obscene- the silky caramel color a twin shade of her soft, supple skin. The entirety of her chest may be covered to the base of her throat courtesy of the halter neckline, but that doesn't account for the backless design that bares her down to the bounce of her ass. She's all leg and sky high heels, the hemline stopping short just below her cheeks. Her midnight hair is twisted up and off her shoulders, displaying the huge fucking diamonds decorating her earlobes. 

She's a showroom car in the middle of his dingy garage. Untouchable. Unattainable.

Ysilla eyes him with a healthy sprinkling of mistrust, giving him a very unimpressed once over. Every speck of grease on his jeans seems to grow darker, the dirt under his nails thickening into a damning paste. Cregan grits his teeth, recognizing the look for exactly what it is- he's shit under her shoes. 

"Just do me a favor, alright?" He goes on before she can't stop him, the perk of her eyebrow haughty and aching to rebuff him. "Lay offa Jace. Man's been through the ringer, he doesn't need you piling on all the time."

The look of gobsmacked shock on her pretty face is priceless. Cregan bets no one's ever talked to her like that before.

"You don't tell me what to do, Stark."

"Not telling you, I'm askin' you." He bites back, rolling his eyes. She picks Jace up sometimes, pulling up in her candy apple red Corvette- no doubt thanks to mummy's money- and doesn't even bother to get out and set foot inside of Stark & Son's Body Shop. She'll lay on the horn, harping at Jace to get a move on and stop wasting my fucking time. 

Real classy gal. 

"It's my brother's own goddamn problem that he wrapped his Ferrari 'round a tree while he was pissed. Now Mum's making him work off his house arrest in this shit shop, and I have to take time out of my day to pick him up from daycare? Bite me." Such vitriol seems unlikely to come from sparkly glossed lips but it pours like oil, easy and thick off her tongue. She's crossed her arms, cocked a hip, and is glaring at him something serious. 

'Shit shop' eh? Cregan snarls, Northern pride burning through the tips of his ears. He stands, kicking away the rolling stool, all six feet and more of him swallowing up the Targaryen daughter in his shadow. Even with her heels, she still has to look up at him to give him her nastiest look. 

"And where are your priorities exactly, Princess?" Cregan doesn't make a habit of talking to women like this but Ysilla gnaws at him like frostbite. Plus, he's got nothing to lose. His uncle is the one doing the favor for Jace's mum. Cregan doesn't owe anyone shit. 

"You off to another club? Didn't I just see your photo splashed over every mag from here to Rook's Rest last week? Partying and gettin' sloshed, stumbling into limos face first and ass up." He chuckles, enjoying a little too much how her bronzed cheeks bloom rosy, the whites of her eyes growing frosty. She's positively fuming- he's surprised steam hasn't shot out of her ears yet. Cregan decides to push his luck, tucking a stubborn curl behind her ear, tracing the shell of it in faux tenderness. 

"What're you searching for at the bottom of all those bottles? Who are ya looking for in the ones that end up in your bed?" 

He expects the smack because that last bit was a little too far. Shit stings, he'll give it to her, waggling his jaw to dissipate the pain. He rubs at the skin of his cheek, the stubbled flesh hot under his hand. 

"Struck a nerve, did I?" He laughs darkly, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. It's a valiant effort, one made in vain as another manicured paw sails through the air and attempts to get familiar with his face. Cregan catches Ysilla's hand, yanking her into him if only to limit how much destruction she can cause. 

"You get one Princess, you don't get another." 

Cregan watches the narrowing of her captivating indigo eyes, her little angry breaths hot along his chest. Maybe he'd laugh at the fact that her pissed off face is about as menacing as a pouting puppy if he didn't realize all of her is pressed into the entire front of him. He refuses to focus on the softness of her breasts pillowed against his ribs. Blocks out the rosemary of her shampoo drifting up his nose from the strands swaying under his chin. 

He lets a traitorous thought drift into his head, a whisper of how fucking perfect she feels against him, how deliciously right she is in his arms. 

"What dumb slag told you that you were hot shit enough to talk to a girl this way?" Ysilla spits, trying to yank free her wrists he still has locked in his meaty fists. 

Cregan scoffs, releasing her and taking a step back- for his sake or hers, he won't answer, not even in his head. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

She rubs at the tender skin under her Cartier bracelets, and Cregan argues with himself to not feel too bad. Considering his face still hurts like a bitch, he doesn't take much convincing. 

"Maybe I would."

He almost misses it, Ysilla's voice dimmed down to a near whisper. But it's just the two of them this late at night, so she may as well've screamed it at the top of her lungs. 

Of fucking course. 

"Oh, I see. Does that turn you on? Guys treating you like shit?" It's his turn to cross his arms and look down the tip of his nose at her. "Or do you just want a man that won't bow down to you because of your last name?" 

"Easy, big boy." Ysilla sneers. She spins on her heel, sauntering away from him and Cregan certainly does not stare at the beguiling jiggle of her ass.  

She finds a seat, reclining on the hood of her Corvette, the same one he was doing a solid for Jace fixing up, faulty fuel sensor and a shitty transmission hidden under the shiny red hood. She may be a bit of a twat but she's still my sister. Can't have her skiddin' off the Long Bridge, Mum would have my ass. 

"I've had enough night-outs to last a lifetime. Maybe… I should try out something different." She crosses her long legs at the ankle and the shop lights might be severely unflattering on most people, but of course that doesn't apply to her. The white glow bounces off her polished skin, illuminating her in a showcase display, enticing anyone who may spare a glance. Fuck, he wants to take a bite out of her. 

"What? Wanna slum it?" Cregan can't believe this shit- maybe Ysilla knocked a screw loose when she swatted at him earlier and he's hallucinating like a bad fucking mushroom trip. 

She giggles, an evil little sound that would probably make a baby cry. "Your words, not mine." Her fingers dance at the edge of her dress, dipping below the hem, raising it just so. She's got thick thighs, creamy and unblemished, and Cregan thinks of how easily they'd spread apart for his shoulders when he'd go face first between them. His silence stretches on and Ysilla takes it as an unspoken answer. 

"No? Your loss." She shrugs, pushing to her feet. 

"Bend over the hood. Keep your heels on."

He's somewhat proud his voice doesn't shake. He's no blushing bride but this is pretty ballsy. The shop door isn't even locked- he'd opened it for her once she arrived and expected her to walk right back out of it in a matter of minutes. His guys are all long gone for the night, probably already a few pints deep at the pub, but this isn't the best part of King's Landing. Anyone could try the door and walk into the porno he's apparently shooting in his garage. 

He expects a fight, at least a snide remark or two but Ysilla is full of surprises. She gives him a sexy little smirk, staring him down like she's expecting him to back out. When all he does is raise an impatient eyebrow, she bites her lip in anticipation and spins around. She walks her hands up the hood of her car, positioning herself in the most alluring display of come take me now Cregan's ever seen. 

He doesn't make his feet move but suddenly, somehow, he's behind her, nearly flush with the back of her thighs. He wedges his steel toe in between her stilettos and knocks them apart. Ysilla gasps as her legs spread, goosebumps peppering over the naked skin of her back. 

He lets himself enjoy this, running his palms from the bare slope of her shoulders, down the sides of her covered breasts, and over the small of her back. She feels fantastic, all woman, and his cock pulses thickly behind his fly. He sees her fingers flex along the gleaming red metal she clings to before the sight drops away as he squats behind her, his face level now with her delicious derriere. 

Ysilla peers at him from under her arm, a surprised little laugh escaping her. "Thought you'd be the kind to just shove it in." 

Cregan shimmies the expensive silk of her dress over the swell of her hips, exposing the globes of her ass to the tepid night air. He smiles, the softest look he's aimed at her so far tonight. "Ye of little faith, milady." 

She's beautiful, every inch of her. He suckles a string of bruises from the back of her knee to the swell of her cheek, stamping down the urge to sink his teeth into the lavish bounty of her body. 

"Gonna kiss my ass, Stark- oh! Damn se Sīkuda, fuckkk."

He indulges a dip of his tongue into where her thong blooms a dark dot, her honey soaking through the delicate material. He sucks on it like a man starved, pulling the sweetness out and onto his ravenous taste buds. A treat before the main course, he shucks them out of his way roughly, before burying his tongue inside of her cunt with no finesse. 

Ysilla startles forward, shouting out another curse but it falls on deaf ears, Cregan a man drowning in lust. Bitter she may be inside but between her legs is fucking sugar, the feminine musk of her arousal coating his mouth in a saccharin syrup. His eyes slip closed, losing himself in her decadent tang. He winds his arms around the front of her thighs and hugs her to his face, keeping her stuck against his insatiable tongue. He leaves her hole only to dip forward to wrap his lips around the pretty little pearl of her clit, enjoying how her legs quiver like jelly when he sucks too hard.

She's gonna have beard burn, he just knows it- he didn't have time to shave this morning. But he thinks of her tomorrow, sitting at the mile long dinner table he's sure they have at Dragonstone Manor, and how she'll wiggle and whine as the butlers pour her tea, working herself up as she rubs her tender thighs together. He yanks her impossibly closer, smothering his face in her pretty pussy. He feels her tighten, her hips arching backwards to ride his face, her moans echoing off the high ceilings and crashing down around them. He groans, mouth full, and the vibrations roll through her like a thundering bass.

Ysilla screams before she slaps a hand over her mouth, her orgasm sending a wave of sweet slick down his chin. He spears her on his tongue, dragging her on and off it, making sure to draw out her aftershocks until her legs kick. Cregan finally tears himself away, albeit unhappily, to gulp down air to fill his burning lungs. 

"Don't tease, Stark." She whines, reaching blindly behind her to push at his head.

"Don't tell me what to do, Targaryen." He parrots back, his speech slurred, drunk from his feast. He relents though, rocking onto his feet, going to flick open the button of his jeans. 

"Rubber." Ysilla commands, breathy and impatient, laid across the hood like a fucking Playboy spread. Her fingers have snuck between her legs and she rubs between her slick lips with unhurried small strokes.

Cregan pulls his wallet from his pocket, shifting through the bills before pulling out the foil packet (he keeps one handy, in case of emergencies and all). He tears open the edge and rolls it on, pumping himself once for assurity before lining himself up with her entrance. He snatches Ysilla's hand away from fondling herself, and he holds her sultry stare as he brings her wet fingers up to his mouth. He sucks them clean, her French-tipped nails curling loosely over his tongue. 

"You're filthy." Long gone is her previous acrid tone, in its place a needy, erotic purr. He winks at her, releasing her hand. She lets it flop bonelessly to her side, weak with satisfaction. He takes a hold of her hips, raising her up so that she teeters on heels. 

He catches her eye, raising a brow in an unspoken question. You good?

She answers with an annoyed miff of her mouth. Just get on with it. 

Cregan's never claimed to be the smartest guy around but shit, he doesn't need to be told twice. He slides forward, his spit and her slick letting him in with no resistance. 

"Fuck, that's good pussy." And he almost wishes he were lying- her ego could use a good adjustment- but he's currently sliding into the wettest, silkiest, hottest cunt he's ever had the privilege of being invited into. 

He takes a moment to focus on not being a minute man but as soon as the temptation to cum in under thirty fades, he gives her just what she needs. Hard, fast, and rough. He's sure she'll bruise- he's a big guy, plus the way he's squeezing at her hips and the start of her thighs is anything but tender. 

"Fuck it like you own it, Stark, come on." Ysilla slaps at the hood, meeting him thrust for thrust. Even with dick in her, she still thinks she's the one calling the shots. 

"Do you ever not talk?" He bites back, fisting his grip into the roots of her hair. She flutters around him as he pulls, hard. 

"Only when there's something in my mouth." Cheeky thing. She wants filthy? He shoves two fingers down her throat, bumping cruelly at the crowns of her teeth and scraping at the back of her tongue. She doesn't even gag, just hums and sucks on them like his work worn hands are a popsicle in July. 

"Pampered little rich bitch. Fucken desperate for some Northern cock, eh?"

Cregan thinks that she tries to whine out something, thinks he might hear prick, but the digits shoved in her mouth and the drool slipping down his wrist stunt that. Her nails burrow into his foreman, Ysilla clinging to him as he fucks her like a beast. He's not gentle, pistoning in and out of her so harshly that the Corvette rocks beneath them, the tires squeaking. 

She whimpers, her throat spasming around his fingers. A thought, unbidden, worms its way into his thoughts. What if she fakes it? And that pisses him the fuck off. Nah, if she wants to get down and dirty, she'll remember how hard she came when she was pinned underneath him. He rips his fingers free and only gives her a chance to cough once before gripping her jaw tightly.

"Tell me you like it." He rumbles into her ear, his Northern flourish thicker when he's turned on.

Ysilla moans, a broken, lovely sound that makes him grin like a fool.

"I fuckin' love it, oh my Gods." That's even better.

Cregan kisses her on instinct, planting one just below her ear, over the thrumming string of her pulse. She vibrates in a shiver, curling into him, the curve of her spine accepting the beating of his hips. Southern girls must not be used to good dick because Ysilla is fucking gagging for it. Her hood's gonna look like it just got a fresh wax from the way her wetness dribbles down her thighs. 

"Fuck yeah, take it take it take it take it." His hand wraps around her throat, a mind of its own, and hauls her to his chest. She's shaking, wild gasps for air whistling from her lips. Her hand dives down her belly, her fingertips searching for the sensitive slip of skin that'll bring them closer to the end of their fucked up little union. And Cregan may not enjoy her company but he's certainly enjoying this. He catches her wrist, trapping her against her own beautiful body as he winds both arms around her. 

"Un uh, you cum when I tell you to. Should make you beg for it. Should put you on your knees, with your pretty kitty aching still, teetering on the edge, and paint your face with my spunk. Think you're too good for me? When your pussy is squeezing the absolute life outta me?" Cregan thinks of putting a collar on her. Leading her around on a leash, tugging her forward to have her lap at his cock. "Cregan's Bitch" inscribed on a dangling gold charm that'd rest between her tits. She'd look good in pink- it'd make the rosiness of her lips glow lusciously.

Fuck, he's close. And for all the shit he may talk, he's not pulling out of her A1 snatch now. 

"So do it. Beg me, Princess. Beg me to let you cum."

Seemingly past the point of acting blasé, the plea tumbles from Ysilla's mouth before he's even done talking. "Yes yes yes, please baby, let me cum. Let me cum all over your cock. Break me in half on it, unnfff. Cregan!"

There it is. "Only because you asked so nicely." And his callous raised fingertips glide down to strum at her clit until she sobs, her legs going out, the only thing keeping her up Cregan's thick arms around her. She shivers and shakes for ages, guiding him through his own release as he cums into the condom. 

He presses his forehead to the center of her back, taking his time so that his knees don't buckle when he stands up. Pulling out of her sucks, leaving her warmth the last thing he wants to do but his back is screaming at him to straighten out and he's sure her legs must be at least half asleep by now. He ties off the rubber, tossing it into the bin behind them before he tucks himself back in his boxers. 

He snags a clean rag out of a drawer- it comes with a few oil stains sure, but it's been washed a thousand times. He wipes Ysilla clean, gentle around the raw skin of her inner thighs and the swollen lips of her center. She sighs softly, whispering a soft thank you into her arm pillowed beneath her chin. He kisses the side of her hip in acknowledgement, sliding her sodden panties back to cover her up. He helps her roll onto her back and she squints up at the track lights glaring down at them. 

He doesn't say much and neither does she, the afterglow fading until all that's left is the sweat sticky on their skin.  

"Can I take you out to dinner? I'm fucking starved." It's not a proposal or anything, just good manners in Cregan's opinion.

Ysilla looks down at her dress, wrinkled from him rucking it up and spotted from where she'd sweated through parts of it. She looks at him pointedly, less attitudey than before but still with her signature sharpness. He laughs, unperturbed and lighter than fucking air. That's the best orgasm he's had in… shit, probably ever. 

"I have a long sleeve you can throw on. Some sweats too." He ducks into the office and riffles through his gym bag, returning with the clothes that he'll sure will swamp her from head to toe. He tosses them onto the hood beside her.

"Couture, no doubt." She grumbles but she's already undoing the button at the nape of her neck that keeps the straps in place. It falls away like a bow off a present, revealing the one part of her he hasn't seen. 

He'll need a few before he can go another round but even so, his dick twitches in interest. He may be an ass man but Cregan's positive now there's no piece of her body he doesn't want to lick. Ysilla notices his shameless staring, forgetting his shirt she'd started to shrug on in her lap. She smirks, cupping her tits, her thumbs and forefingers pinching the dusky rose nipples into stiff peaks. 

"Like what you see?"

Cregan doesn't answer, not aloud anyway. He sweeps forward, coming to stand in between her lax legs. He cradles her face and that cocksure smugness melts like butter from her eyes, and she blinks big and wide up at him. Her lashes flutter, petals in a breeze, and Cregan takes his chance. He seals his lips over hers and swallows down the sigh she breathes into his mouth.

It's chaste, paling in comparison to the railing he just gave her but it doesn't make it any less nice. It's really nice actually, nicer than it has any right being. Ysilla wraps her legs around his hips, dragging him into glue to her front. Her breasts squeeze against his chest, her tongue demure as it traces his bottom lip. The scratch of her nipples against his work shirt sends her whimpering, and she clutches onto his biceps for purchase. 

The growl of his stomach wins out over the tightening in his jeans, and with enough willpower to win a war, he pulls away. He gives her another peck, enjoying the way her face goes soft when she's not frowning. 

He traces the beauty mark at the edge of her cheekbone, waiting for her eyes to slip shut before he yanks the long sleeve over her head. She pops through the shirt's opening like a bushy little groundhog, and Cregan smirks at the glare she daggers him with. 

"So, kebabs or fish and chips?"

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Damn se Sīkuda . Damn the Seven