#he was working on himself and trying to make changed he thought would be good for him

[bloomiize]

currently thinking abt gooner/perv!jake and how he cannot keep his hands out of his pants and it’s only getting worse because of you

READ PART TWO HERE

gooner!jake jerks off TOO MUCH. it’s become an issue where even his hand doesn’t do it for him anymore. He probs watches whatever porn he can get his filthy hands on; hentai, Twitter clips, pornhub, cam girls, it’s never ending. His roommate is getting tired of hearing the low groans he lets out through the thin walls

gooner!jake probs has a secret stash of his favourite material. All of the girls look and sound eerily similar to someone he knows, you. It’s just a coincidence right?

perv!jake loves thinking about how you would sound under him. Are you loud? Maybe you’re a whimperer? Or maybe you’re shy and would try to hold back, he would change that if you’d let him. He loses his train of thought when you sit across from him and ask him if he’s done the most recent assignment.

perv!jake stares at you while you study, not in a creepy way of course. He just admires your eyes and thinks about how they’d look looking up at him while you sucked his dick. And he just likes your outfit, especially the way it hugs so tightly to your body basically exposing every curve. Oh and he’s just taking glances at your necklace. It’s not his fault that your tits are sitting so perfectly and your nipples are poking through your shirt like they want his mouth on them.

gooner!jake's pants are getting too tight. He excuses himself to the washroom. He's basically rubbing himself through his pants in the locked stall "Don't cum, don't cum, don't cum, not yet" he repeats to himself.

gooner!jake goes home after your study session and can’t stop thinking about you. The way you sounded when you said his name, so sweet and perfect. He would do anything just to hear you say it again and again while he’s fucking into your tight pussy. He doesn't even say hi to his roommate on the couch, he goes straight to his room and locks it. His hands are already fumbling with his sweats and he's pulling up a video, the girl in it doesn’t sound like you but it’ll work for now

gooner!jake has been fucking his fist for about two hours. He’s cum at least twice. Or was it three times? He lost count and he can't stop even though its starting to hurt. Hes biting his shirt to help stop the sounds from coming out but that doesn't stop the wet noises that are coming from his dick.

gooner!jake has hit a point where none of the videos and pictures are turning him on. He’s been going through his folder, but none of them are good enough, none of them are you.

gooner!jake found your Instagram account through stalking your mutual friends, and lets out a pathetic whimper when he sees that its public. He scrolls through it, weeping dick still in hand. There's the cutest photo of you next to your friends, harmless, right? You're in a swimsuit, the tiniest bikini, god, it's so small he's losing his mind. Why bother wearing it if you were gonna show him everything?

gooner!jake throws his head back imagining how he'd rip it off. He wouldn't even let you go in public if you wore something like that, not unless you were covered in hickies with his seed dripping down your thigh. You would let him fuck you raw wouldn't you? His poor tip is bright red, begging to release again. He would make you feel so good if you would just let him. He sticks his tongue out hitting the damp air and thinks about how you'd taste. Fuck he could die happy if he could just lick your perfect little pussy.

gooner!jake cums with a devestating groan after three hours of nonstop gooning. He says your name while he finishes and looks at the mess he made. His hand is coated in his own cum and his abs are glistening with sweat. He's careful to pull up his sweats due to how sensitive his cock is. He finally leaves his room and checks his phone to find a message from his roommate.

"Stop being so fucking loud when you’re jerking off. I'm going out until your done. You moan the same girls name every time. just fuck her already."

gooner!jake isn't embarrassed. He and his roommate have done a lot worse together. He thinks about the last four words in his head for the next week "just fuck her already". Maybe, just maybe, he'll find the courage to ask you out and do everything he's thought about.

from bloomiize: OMG MY FIRST PIECE OF WRITING AAAAAA i hope u guys like it sorry i got kinda carried away and a little freaky.... mb gang PLS REBLOG AND LMK WHAT U THINK!! thanks for reading ^^

[no1blacksapphirefan]

Hello there! I love the work you do and hope that you have a great day! My request is for your Self-Aware Cookie Run au.

The reader somehow is transported into the game, meaning they can finally interact with everyone. There is just one drawback, their body is now a replica of the cookie that appears in the guild domain. (Ex: They chose Shadow Milk in the guild domain and now they have the same body as him.) I imagine some cookies have fun with this, using it as opportunity to pull some pranks or maybe even tease them a bit if the cookie the reader chose was their favorite. Maybe even try on costumes that were made for that cookie?

Also I would like Red Velvet and Capsaicin to be included in this ask please?

Hihii!! I hope you're having a good day too :D Glad you like my work hehe, your idea is very silly and I hope you enjoy

Red Velvet He was just looking for his cute lil cake hounds and now he's face to face with...himself?? Huh, when did this happen...AND WHY DOES HIS CAKE HOUNDS LIKE THIS CLONE OF HIM MORE?? He gently asks them to come back, what if you're some evil entity that can change form!! He can't let them be hur-...what's that Chiffon?...Wait what-

You're not sure how he understood the dog, if he actually did and it was just a "cooler"/funnier way to show that he knows but he points at you and questions if your truly their so called "God" Wow that's weird to hear out of someones mouth, you didn't know the cookies saw you as their God? You think? All you had to do was say you're name and he just stands there in shock. He wanted to meet you but like this??...Wow...And you look like him too...he gets a bit flustered when you explain why you look like him, due to the guild. But he's also happy, and Chiffon and the other Cake Hounds like you so, win-win?

Capsaicin He got so confused at first, looking you up and down. You know that TV trope where the character acts like it's a mirror? Holding up one arm and the "clone" (in this case you) holds up the other. I see him doing that. He has a feeling he knows you, and not the fact that it's just...well him staring back. But he feels like your just a separate person.

When you tell him he's so happy, quickly hugging you tight. He wanted to meet you for so long!! He does question why you look like him, so you explain that you seem to just be a "copy" of whoever you had as your avatar in guild. Oh he's so honoured, out of all the cookies you chose him to be and walk around in, in your guild? Definitely tries to convince you to pull some pranks on the others.

Shadow Milk Imagine your dressed as the Sage of Truth though. Like he's walking around, humming to himself then he suddenly sees an alternate version of himself. What?? How, is he dreaming? Must be an illusion, he flies over and pokes you, just to see if you're real before pinching himself...so you're real and he's not dreaming, then why is he--

When you spoke out to him he came to realise who you were, let's just say your voice stayed the same. He...isn't sure what to think. Like, don't get me wrong, he loves seeing you here now and to think that you chose him to, in better words. Represent yourself in your guild is making him feel butterflies but...he's staring at this version of himself, this version who had accepted what he had not...it was strange and he didn’t know what to think. It takes him a bit to get used too, he still wants to hang around you but it may take a bit to ignore the fact you looked like what he could’ve been in another universe.

((He defo convinces you to pull pranks on other cookies though))

Pure Vanilla Oh? Oh my, he stares at you for a bit, he had thought he heard your voice when he was taking a walk but now he just sees himself. Calmly picking up flowers. When this version of him turns around and spots him, you nearly had a heart attack, you didn't think you'd meet him. You quickly explain and all he can do is laugh gently, lending a hand out and asks if you'd walk with him.

This is quite the discovery though, he always wanted to meet you in "person" (...cookieson?) and imagined either him getting out of the screen or seeing you as a cookie like they were, but you were just a clone of him in better terms. He's very happy to hear the reason seemed to be that you used him to represent yourself in your little guild. He's so honoured.

Black Pearl Hear me out, just like Shadow Milk. Instead of looking like Black Pearl, you looked like White Pearl. Her more...tranquil side, when she was happier. You just wanted to test out swimming, it's a new body after all and one that can swim when you were grabbed by her. At first she thought you were disturbing the tranquil of her seas but then she sees...her past self? She grows...disturbed seeing it and lets you go.

You try to tell her who you are, which she does listen but she can't help but flee quickly. Out of all the cookie you had to be when you came here, did it have to be her? She comes finds you eventually, despite her initial reaction, she's quick to help you swim around. She still feels...off seeing her past self but she knows it's not her. That "her" has long gone. It's only you know, and to be honest. She is honoured you had used her to represent yourself in the guild.

[puprdou]

Hii! Idk if ur still taking requests but if you do can you write something with trying to get preggie with hubby rindou 🙈

BABY FEVER!

contains. established relationship. baby fever. unprotected sex. breeding. creampies. pwp. pet names (baby, sweetheart, love). degration mixed with praise. switch!rindou. soft!rindou. fem!reader.

A/N. haihai ty 4 requesting anon! sorry,, this is pretty late- current fronter (me) is asexual so i haven't felt like writing any of that smutty shit,,, hope this is okay! it's sort of short, but enjoyy

waking up next to you every morning is simply one of the best things that rindou haitani could have ever asked for in life. in all honesty, he didn’t truly believe he would ever get married. being a longtime criminal and an executive of the most dangerous and infamous mafia in all of japan wasn’t actually a trait most women enjoyed. but, when he had met you, he knew it was true love.

the way you smiled at him, despite knowing who he was and what he’s done in his life, and the way you cared for him, helping him clean off the blood from his freshly bloodied suit after a mission, tending to his wounds after a failed mission; it all made him fall deeper into the neverending pit of love for you.

the day he was officially known as your husband was the best day of his entire life. hearing his last name after yours—it was something he never knew he needed until he heard it. nothing could change how good it felt to be huddled up in bed with you after a long night, waking up to kiss his wi—

where were you? opening his eyes, he was met with a pillow in which he was hugging, the fresh air flowing past the curtains into the room through the windows, the sun illuminating the dim lighting in the bedroom. it had immediately sent him on alert, waking up faster than he intended to as he realized you were gone.

it wasn’t until he had begun walking around the house, seeing you in the kitchen making breakfast that he softened. he was glad to know you were okay. walking up behind you, his bare chest pressed against your back as he hugged you like a little baby, resting his chin on your head.

“mmph.. when did you get out of bed, sweetheart?” he asked in a sleepy tone, his voice deeper and more raspy than usual. he placed a tender kiss to your shoulder, hearing you hum in response, looking at that gorgeous smile on your face, “just a little bit ago.” you responded.

“hm.. why didn’t you wake me up?” he gave you a little pout, pressing himself more snugly against you. he hated whenever you chose not to wake him up in the early mornings. having bonten work, he didn’t often have time for dates, but he gave you all the time he could. so, that includes early mornings; if you woke him up on time, that is.

“you just looked so peaceful.. i couldn’t,” you pouted back at him, only to be responded with a soft smile and a warm chuckle. as you flipped the pancakes you were making for breakfast, he reached for his phone, only to not have found it. right, i just woke up, he thought to himself.

without a word, he reached over, seeing your phone on the counter. unlocking it silently, he went to check the calendar app to see if they have anything planned today, only to be met with an already opened app as he unlocked the phone, making his eyes slightly widen.

pausing, he turned over to you once more, his hand around your hips snaking up to your chin, bringing your attention from the food to him. he showed you your now opened phone, his brow raised in confusion, “why are you looking at baby things..? wait, don’t tell me, are you—”

his eyes went wide again, looking down to your belly, before he had heard your instant reassurance and panic over the worry on his face, assuming that you were pregnant. panicking, you immediately ushered to reasure him that no, you were not, in fact pregnant, “no! no, no, ’m not pregnant, baby..”

you heard him sigh softly, looking back into your eyes. it wasn’t that he didn’t want to have a child with you; hell, it was all he’s ever wanted since the day he laid eyes on you all those years ago. he was always the youngest, never the oldest. so, if there was one thing he would want most in the world, it would be to have either a younger sibling, or a child to call his own.

he never knew what it felt like to be the eldest sibling, to take care of someone younger than him; as he had been the youngest, always, being taken care of by his elder brother, ran. he wanted to have a child with you, yes, but.. he’s not too sure he’s ready yet. hell, he really, really wanted to have a baby with you, but.. what if he won’t be a good father?

it was always challening, being a bonten executive. at any given moment, you could be targetted and hunted by bonten’s enemies, solely for the fact that you are someone special to the executive. he didn’t want to put you at risk, didn’t want to put his child at risk, but he desperately wanted a son, even a daughter to hold in his arms.

“then why are you lookin’ at baby stuff..?” he asked quietly, his hands returning to your hips as he put the phone down, placing a soft kiss to your chin. you puckered out your bottom lip, grumbling a little bit before sighing, mumbling in response, “cause, i.. i want to have a baby with you.. i want to reach the next step.”

“..really?” he looked down at you with a serious, yet fond expression. he feared this moment, but.. he knew he wanted it too. he definitely wasn’t getting any younger, either. he sighed softly, gently rubbing your hips as he thought it over. but, seeing those puckered pink lips of yours, those half-lidded eyes, and those adorable flushed cheeks.. he knew he could never deny you.

“..alright. we can try.” he agreed after a peaceful moment in silence, a soft nod following in his words. he was scared, but.. he knew that, with you, he was capable of doing anything. and out of anything, that included putting a baby in that cute little tummy of yours.

and, so of course, now, you were laying on your back with your legs pushed up to your chest, your hubby’s hands digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he thrusted into you. he was sweating, his cheeks were flushed, and god, he looked so pretty like this; whining as he rutted his hips into yours.

sometimes, your husband could be really whiny. he always got so embarrassed by it—always trying to act tough when in reality he’s just a little needy baby. he couldn’t help the way he feels when you’re squeezing around him so tightly, pussy pulsating with each rut of his hips.

it had his head feeling fuzzy, his grip on your hips so tight that it’ll leave bruises. it didn’t help that every time his half-lidded eyes blinked at you, he could see the pleasure contorted onto your face, those sweet moans reaching his ears in matched pace with his thrusts, those little ’ah!’ ’ah!’ ’ah!’s sending him reeling.

leaning down, he littered warm, open-mouth kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath hot with each pant and labored breath he breathed. groaning, he whimpered out your name as he nibbled on your earlobe, mumbling, “y-yer sooo pretty like this, love..”

“g-gonna fill y’up, ’n ’m g’nna g-get y’pregnant w-wit’ my baby.. y-you’re gonna look s-soooo cute, y-your tummy all swelled..” he babbled into your ear, his chest pressing against yours as he rutted his hips into yours, his dck sliding in and out of you, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin at the obscene squelches of your dripping cunt filling the air.

hearing your wanton moans had him shakily smirking, loving how he could reduce you to such a cockdrunk little whore. he knew that only he could make you feel this way, and that fueled his ego majorly. he breathlessly chuckled nto your ear, mumbling, “s-such a slut f’me, aren’t cha? s-so good,”

he could feel his balls tightening, his hips stuttering as he thrusted into you. he lifted his head slightly, shaking his hair from his sticky forehead as he leaned in to press his lips against your own, drinking in all of those pretty little noises that past your kiss swollen lips.

“..hahn.. hng, f-fuck, g’nna cum..” he mumbled against your lips, already feeling your cunt gushing and fluttering around his dick. he slid his tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch that he could reach, deepening the kiss as he held your trembling thighs up, wrapping them around his hips.

breaking the kiss, he moaned softly into your ear as he buried his face into your shoulder, unloading his warm seed into your awaiting womb, your bodies mush together after the intense fucking. he lazily thrusted into you a few times, riding you both throughout your highs before slipping his dick out of your dripping hole.

he panted softly as he rose up, holding your thighs apart as he looked down at you, seeing your disheveled state, his cum dripping out from your pussy, all sweaty and flushed. he smiled softly at the sight, one of his hands leaving your thighs to push his seed back into your pussy, making sure not one drop is wasted.

“mmh.. can’t wait to see this tummy all big and swelled with my baby..” he mumbled, running his hand over your tummy, seeing you smile up at him. god, he loved you so much; and at that moment, he realized, that as long as you’re with him, he has no reason to be afraid of anything. even being a father. ♡

© 2025 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔, all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, steal or translate my works onto other social media platforms.

[kanekisfavoritegf]

PERFECT LOVER:The Life of Nanami Kento the 35 Year Old Virgin

MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL GET BLOCKED

SYNOPSIS: Kento Nanami, a 35-year-old introvert with a tendency to avoid social interactions, has made a conscious decision to steer clear of romantic entanglements. However, everything changes when he meets a new colleague at his birthday party, (Satoru's Idea). From the moment they meet, he is mesmerized, finding himself increasingly unable to resist her magnetic presence. Like taking a bite of forbidden fruit, he becomes ensnared by the allure, delving into a realm of infatuation and finding himself unable to break free. As he delves deeper into this newfound connection, Nanami begins to realize that he craves more than just a fleeting experience and yearns for more than just a fleeting taste of what she embodies.

Table of Contents

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

CHAPTER SEVEN:

The supply closet and Kento were becoming acquainted as he hid again from her.

Why was he in the closet again? He thought to himself as he wallowed in his self-pity. Oh yeah. He was semi-hard and avoiding you.

You who had walked in in tight black pants and a white button-up.

All of this would have been fine if you hadn’t left the top three buttons undone, saying it was hot.

It would have been fine had you not leaned over his left shoulder to check the email that the company had received.

All of this would have been fine if he hadn’t turned his head a single degree of your way and caught a glimpse of a black lacy bra.

And still, maybe all of that would have been fine had you not rubbed his neck softly, telling him

“It’s okay to look, Kento. Tonight, maybe you’ll get to touch them.”

Before walking off to your desk where Suguru waited with a pile of paperwork that needed reviewing.

It was not fine.

He was not fine.

Not fine at all.

Since the night he begged you to teach him how to please you, Kento had been very serious. So serious, it was slowly chipping at your sanity.

Yes, you were at work, but he had also had his tongue lapping at your cunt. And no, he barely made eye contact with you. It was as if you guys were back to level zero.

So you made a good, totally not reckless plan to tease him. To slowly peel away at his sanity until he ravaged you right there in front of everyone.

It worked well enough; you watched as his nose flared at the scent stuck to your neck. You saw the way his teeth clenched at your words.

Watching him shuffle his way around in his set as if trying to fix his pants was fun.

And just when you were about to take another glance his way. The man disappeared.

Into thin air.

UNBELIEVABLE.

“Y/N? Y/N? You okay?” Suguru asked from his desk. You stood before him, papers in hand, staring off into the distance.

“Uh, Yeah! I was just wondering where Mr. Nanami went. I was supposed to confirm the location for the investor’s gala with him, but he disappeared.”

“Oh, Kento does that sometimes.” Suguru chuckled, “Whenever Satoru gets on his nerves, he runs off to one of his hiding spots. I’d start by checking the storage closet.

The closest storage was a no, and so were the bathrooms. As you looked through the kitchen window, you only saw empty chairs.

“Where could he be?” You whispered to yourself.

Just as you were going to give up, you noticed a small room in the kitchen area, a pantry of some sort. That’s where they kept the extra paper and miscellaneous office things that didn’t fit in the original storage closet. At least that’s what Kento told you on the tour.

Opening the door, there he was, hands clenching the shelf in front of him, back faced to you. His head snapped back, and he peered over his shoulder. His eyes flared with anger. 

Okay maybe you had pushed him too far. Bugs, it’s fine. You could make up for it right now. 

Taking a quick glance behind you to make sure the coast was clear, you slept inside with him, closing the door softly behind you.

“Kento.” He didn’t respond. In fact, he just grabbed onto you. Pushing you against the door and splitting your legs slightly open with his knee.

“No talking.” He spoke roughly, but you ignored him. The look in his eye told you he wanted just the opposite.

“Kento, it isn’t polite to hide from the person you are fucking.” You whispered in his ear,  hands sliding down to his dick; you began to palm at the bulge in his pants.

“It isn’t polite to tease the person you are fucking while they are working either.” He retorted back at you.

“Really? I don’t remember doing that.” You feigned innocence tilting your head to the side. Looking up at him, you hand still on his bulge. Under the small yellow singular light bulb, Kento seemed to glow, his cheeks flushed pink and his ears violently red. His eyes left your face for a second, staring up at the ceiling he seemed to pray for mercy, forgiveness, patience…

Your finger that once palmed at his cock moved to his throat, outlining a vein that bulged out in stress, and with that, the last thread Kento had seemed to have snapped. 

“What are you doing to me?” He groaned before moving his hand to the back of your neck, squeezing softly as he brought you to his lips. 

His kisses devoured you, and you did your best to conceal your moans. The air was hot and getting hotter by the second. Moving his hand away from your face and to your leg, he tapped it, a wordless way of demanding you raise your leg to his hip. 

As you did, he flipped the two of you over so your back was against the shelves, pushing his erection into you; you both moaned at the feeling. 

Kento’s other hand was just above your head and to the right, clenching hard onto the wood.

It was messy and carnal the way you two moved against one another. And just as you thought you could breathe, his mouth moved to your neck, licking and biting, relishing in the quiet gasp that escaped as he did so. 

“What a whore you are.”

“I’m not!” You whined out, still humping against him, adding to the friction.

“Oh, you aren’t a whore?” Kento asked with a teasing voice. “You are telling me you aren’t going to let me fuck you right here, right now?”

You let out a moan so loud that Kentos hand rushed to cover your mouth. He chuckled at your desperation.

“You are a whore.”

“Noooo, Kento.” You tried to sound like you had even a little bit of resolve, but as you denied his claims, you pushed him harder.

“Uh uh,” Kento tutted, “You must address me as Mr. Nanami, we are at work, remember?”

“Mr.— Mr. Nanamiiii”, you whined! Feeling his hand graze over your covered cunt.

“Ooh love.” He groaned at the feeling of you “you are soaking wet.”

He kissed you again, and you swore you could see stars. 

“P-please—” you moaned

“Please, what, Miss. L/N”

“Please fuck me, I am a whore.”

“Turn around.” Is all he said, his face serious and concentrated.

As you turned around, you caught a glimpse of him, sticking the hand that had teased you over your panties past his lips lay on his tongue.

Once you were turned around facing the wall, his hands found your hips, and you fought the urge to turn your head and face him. Worried he may, in fact, stop what he is doing because you disobeyed him.

Who knew he had such a dominant side…

“Bend over and be a good girl, Y/N”

And as you did, he laughed under his breath once more. His hands that rested on your hips no longer grasped at you. 

“Now you know what it feels like.” He kissed your neck once more before pulling away completely. 

The door clicked open. 

And he was gone.

And you were left there a wet, horny mess.

"Where to you want me?"

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CHAPTER EIGHT: LOADING...

IT HAS BEEN SO LONG AND I AM SO SO SORRY😭😭😭 I HOPE THIS IS OKAY I AM SO SORRY SORRY FOR THE WAIT!!!

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for Vamp

A/N: You can read the previous stories in this universe by looking for "Ambrose" in the minotaur masterlist.

Meeting the mate

Minotaur [Ambrose] (POV) x fem!reader || sfw but nsfw thoughts

His coworker informed him of an appointment for a tongue piercing he had on the evening. He wasn’t too fond of meeting with people, but his job asked for it and he did like his job. He would rather talk it out with the client that have somebody getting a piercing without knowing what that would mean as far as taking care of it and heal-time.

So he was already preparing himself for what he was sure going to be a very tedious task of explaining a human how piercings worked, and how to properly take care of it. Joke was on him, because the appointment went nothing like that.

He was chatting with his coworker when the door opened behind him, he put on his most fake-friendly smile and turned around. And then he had to stop for a second to avoid swallowing his own tongue. You walked through the door and all the thoughts in his head disappeared. Right there, in front of him, was the closest he’d get to experience how the gates of heaven would look like.

You. You were the closest to looking straight to the sun. You were like a ray of sunshine in a dark room, illuminating everything until the colors changed and the world seemed a little less grim.

He had to swallow again, this time around the knot in his throat as you approached him with a smile. “I guess you are my minotaur for the evening.” You said it so casually he had trouble understanding your words, the sound of your voice short-circuiting every single neuron in his brain. He nodded, or at least he thought he did.

He extended his hand and you took it, so very tiny in comparison to him. His dick was twitching in his pants just with a tiny touch. He knew he had a size kink, but the force which his body reacted to yours was unmatched. He never felt like that.

You introduced yourself, but his brain was spinning at such speed he wasn’t sure he could repeat any of what you said. He guided you to the booth, focusing all his energy on making his dick go down so he wouldn’t embarrass himself, or worse, made you uncomfortable.

He was sitting on a stool and you were sitting in front of him, talking animatedly about what made you want to get your tongue pierced. You mentioned something about oral pleasure, and his eyesight went white for a second. He had to readjust his position so his dick wouldn’t be noticeable. You seemed like you didn’t realize your effect on him, so he wasn’t going to mention it. Fuck, he was so doomed.

He reconnected with your words as you said: “Everyone jokes I’m like a vampire, but it’s not my fault that I have a thing for biting and allergy to the sun.” Good goddess, you had a thing for biting? He was about to burst thought his pants if he didn’t do something about it.

So he changed topics. “Okay, let’s get to it. One last time, are you sure about this? Is going to be painful.” He went through the process in his brain, focusing on what he knew to try remain cool. He was struggling really hard to be professional.

You giggled, actually giggled, and he almost came right there. “Jokes on you, I like a little bit of pain,” you answered. He had to take a deep breath to avoid groaning. Yep, he was definitely coming if you didn’t stop talking ASAP.

“Okay, let’s see what we are working with. Stick out your tongue,” he instructed. He got up to get close and the height difference became almost too much for his size kink. Fuck, he needed to get through the appointment fast, before he embarrassed both of you coming in his pants.

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, looking up at him as he inspected your tongue. But truth be told, he was thinking about everything but the piercing. Because you were there, looking at him from under your lashes, tongue out and eyes pleading… and he could only imagine that was the closest he was going to get to see you on your knees for him. To see you looking up as he fucked your throat. Fuck, his dick was aching so bad… And every time he glanced down he could see your cleavage tempting him, your round boobs almost spilling out of your thin strap black shirt. He was so going to hell for lusting after a client. For lusting after you when you were clearly just friendly.

“Take a deep breath,” he instructed, applying it to himself, too. He was having trouble focusing, but the second he inhaled through his nose, he got the delectable scent of your arousal and he almost missed the needle going through your tongue. Fuck, he was being reckless. You did as told, and without even realizing, he lets out a soft: “Good girl.”

His mind malfunctioned at the same second you let out the tiniest of whimpers. He cursed himself for being so unprofessional, but good goddess if that tiny sound didn’t make him have a mini orgasm. He should apologize, he knew he should, but he said nothing. He turned around as he started to recite from memory all the steps you needed to take care of the piercing.

When he recovered some of his cool, he turned around again to find you looking intensely at his back, now his front. You blinked slowly at him and he had to hide behind the cart with his equipment to avoid you seeing the huge imprint of his dick against his pants. Fuck, he never have guessed he had a thing for humans, but good damn it if he didn’t want to press you against the wall and fuck you right there. He could almost taste your arousal in the air, but he had to be professional. He should know better.

He took a deep breath and signaled to the door. “Okay, see you in a couple of weeks to size-down that one, okay? Make sure to make the appointment before leaving.”

“Tha- thank you,” you stuttered, sounding so adorable he had a hard time processing your words.

“Anytime,” he whispered. And he meant it. Good goddess did he mean it. “You can pay at the front.”

“Sure thing… See you in a couple weeks,” you let out in a soft voice, waving at him with your tiny hands that would look amazing wrapped around his dick. He was so going to hell.

He had to grab onto the cart not to go after you and ask you on a date. But that didn’t stop him to look at your ass as you walked out. Fuck, he was going to have wet dreams with that mini skirt, wasn’t he? He did not (but definitely did) jerk off in the bathroom after he made sure you left.

It took you two weeks to get back to him for your size-down piercing appointment. Two weeks of insufferable longing and jerking off furiously to the thought of you, to the look you gave him before leaving, to the way you smelled. He might have taken the gloves he used to touch you back home. But he would never accept that. Who cared anyway? The smell was fading, and he was starting to look like a lovesick fool. But who could blame him? It was the only way of smelling you again.

He was on his break when he got the first text message from you. He had no idea how you got that number, but he suspected his stupid naga coworker (soon-to-not-be-friends) gave it to you. He had a special number for appointments, but she decided it was better to give you his personal info. He should be mad, he knew he should, but the fact that you sent him a text, that you had his number… Fuck, it was messing with his head.

Your message was short, just a simple “hey, where could I go in to get the piercing?”

He overthought what to answer for a lot longer that he’d admit. But after a while, he knew he couldn’t leave you on read, so he just answered an equally professional “can you come over this evening?”. He realized a beat too late that it sounded a bit like he wanted to hook up with you (which he wanted, but that wasn’t the point), so he sent a second message to clarify: “to the tattoo parlor, that’s it”.

He was two seconds away from hitting his head to the table in embarrassment when you sent him a cute emoji with a thumbs up. Was the emoji cute? Not really. But being you who sent it? Incredibly cute.

He walked back into the parlor with a new energy on his steps. “Dude, since when we give clients personal info?” He asked the naga behind the counter, trying not to sound too accusing because he was actually glad she did. But he wanted to know why she did it, it wasn’t normal for her to do such a careless thing.

“Since she’s your mate,” she countered without looking up from her phone, completely nonchalant and making his whole world crumble with a single word.

Wait, mate? WHAT?

And then everything clicked into place. The way you smelled, the way he reacted to you and your smell. The way he was going insane after only two weeks of not seeing you. Fuck. He was so stupid he found his mate and wasn’t even able to recognize it.

And now… now he didn’t know what to do.

He couldn’t tell you, humans didn’t have mates. He wasn’t even sure you liked him back.

You smelled like arousal, yeah, but you came in smelling like that. He hadn’t been around enough humans to know if that was normal. Maybe all humans were horny all the time. How would he know? And sure, you flirted a bit with him, but you also flirted with his coworker as you made the appointment… Fuck, everything was so messy.

He only had one thing clear: he couldn’t stay away from you. So maybe… friends?

Yeah, that would do.

(He definitely knew that friends wasn’t going to cut it, but there’s nothing as blind as someone in love.)

[change-your-instinct]

When Marco first stepped into Tony’s Famous Pizza, he carried himself like an athlete- because he was one. Years of football and weightlifting had him broad-shouldered, thick-armed, and tightly muscled. His new chef outfit clung proudly to the body he'd worked so hard to build.

Marco remembered catching Tony’s eye that first day, the way the older man’s gaze lingered just a little too long on his chest, the way he smiled like he knew something Marco didn’t.

"Skinny kid," Tony said with a rough chuckle, clapping him hard on the back. "Don’t worry, you’ll fill out."

Marco laughed along, brushing it off. He thought it was just the usual teasing. He didn’t know how right Tony would turn out to be.

At first, it was little things. Tony insisted Marco "taste everything”: New pies fresh from the oven, late-night slices after cleaning up, bowls of buttery pasta slid across the counter with a wink. "You gotta love it if you're gonna sell it," Tony said, pushing another plate into Marco’s hands, warm and smiling.

Something about it made Marco's chest tighten in ways he didn’t want to think too hard about. He figured he could afford a few indulgences. He was young, active, still hitting the gym when he could. What harm could it do?

The weight crept on faster than expected, Marco hardly noticing the first few pounds. It started with just a little softness at the waistline, revealed by a tell-tale tightness when bent over to tie his shoes. Then the sleeves of his polos clung a little too close to his arms, no longer defined cords of strength but thick round slabs of muscle. Marco chalked it up to longer hours and less time for workouts. Then his stomach, once flat and firm, started to develop a slow, stubborn curve forward to go along with his appetite. 

Tony noticed. Oh, he noticed.

Marco saw it in the way Tony’s eyes lingered when he wiped sauce from the corner of his mouth. Then the way Tony’s smile grew wider whenever Marco leaned back in a chair and his shirt rode up, exposing a flash of his growing belly. He noticed the casual brushes- Tony’s hand lingering on his back longer than necessary during a busy rush, a playful nudge that seemed to savor the growing heft under Marco’s uniform.

"Looking good, kid," Tony would murmur when Marco leaned over the counter, the buttons of his shirt opening just a little at the stomach.  "Starting to look like you belong here," he'd tease, handing Marco another slice, another bowl of pasta, another dessert still warm from the oven.

At first, Marco told himself it was nothing. Friendly teasing. A joke between coworkers.

But deep down, he liked it. He liked the way Tony eyed him constantly like he was becoming something. Something wanted. Something irresistible.

Marco should have resisted. He should have pushed back, hit the gym, bought salads instead of scarfing down mozzarella sticks between deliveries. But every time Tony’s gaze hit him- warm, proud, possessive- Marco’s willpower melted like cheese in the pizza oven. He loved the feeling of fullness after a heavy shift meal, the slow heavy stretch of his belly rounding out under his shirt. He loved the way Tony’s hand would brush accidentally against his growing sides when they squeezed past each other in the tight kitchen. He loved the way Tony looked at him — not just with approval, but with hunger.

Marco wanted to believe he was just trying to make Tony happy.

But another part of Marco, a secret, hungry part, wanted to see just how far he could push it.

Marco started indulging more openly. Extra slices at lunch turned into whole pies. Late-night taste tests became decadent dinners. Marco lingered after closing, splitting deep-dish pizzas with Tony, licking buttery crumbs from his fingertips while Tony watched with a gaze that turned hotter by the day. 

While Marco’s strong athletic build softened, plumped, expanded- Tony only seemed to encourage it more.

Marco could feel his body changing eagerly under the pressure, faster than he could control. His once trim waist grew heavy, rounding forward into the proud curve of a fat stomach. His strong chest softened, the firm muscle giving way to weight that bounced slightly when he moved. His wide, powerful arms lost their cut entirely, burying themselves under a soft, pillowy layer. His thighs grew massive under his new size, chafing when he walked forcing him to have a slower, heavier stride. 

The worst was the effect on his clothes- every week it seemed like something new didn’t fit. His shirts had tightened around his chest, then lower, clinging embarrassingly to his thick belly. He’d tug a polo over his head only to find it riding up his midriff, exposing the whole horizon of flesh underneath. His work pants bit into his sides, leaving angry red marks on his hips by the end of his shift.

Marco could feel the customers’ eyes on him. He could see how they glanced at the way his gut pushed out, how he’d have to lean back a little to balance the weight. He burned with embarrassment forced to adjust his shirt, trying to pull it down over the soft roll hanging out at his waist. He was growing too fast, too obviously.

Yet… Every time Marco caught Tony looking at him, eyes dark and full of pride, a bolt of heat shot through him that made it all worth it.

It was humiliating. Yet, at the same time, it was thrilling.

Marco could feel himself becoming something bigger. Heavier. Softer. A living, breathing symbol of Tony’s pride and attention. Every new pound was evidence of how much Tony wanted him, how much he belonged in Tony’s kitchen. In Tony’s restaurant. In Tony’s life.

Some nights, Marco would lay in his bed after another long, heavy shift. His belly would be full to bursting, his body sore from standing and eating all day. Almost immobile, he’d run his hand over his growing middle, smiling to himself. He was becoming Tony’s project. His creation.

Marco didn’t just accept it — he wanted it. He wanted to grow bigger. He wanted to become so fat, so heavy, that there was no hiding it anymore. No pretending he was just a chef who liked to eat. He would be Tony’s, through and through — round, soft, overflowing with the life Tony poured into him even if the whole world could see it happening. Especially because the whole world would see it.

One night, after a particularly indulgent shift that ended with an entire tiramisu polished off between them, Marco lounged back against the booth seat, his belly heavy and tight, the polo stretched wide across his gut and revealing his midriff. He groaned softly, shifting his bulk, too full to hide how much he had changed. 

Tony sat beside him, the room spinning with the smells of garlic and yeast. Leaning in close, his voice was low and rough with something heavier than teasing.

"You keep growing like this," he murmured, hand grazing Marco’s thickening side, "and I'm gonna have to buy you a whole new set of uniforms. Maybe just stitch Service Bull across your back and call it a day."

Marco, half-drunk on sugar, heat, and Tony’s nearness, grinned lazily. His cheeks burned, but not with shame.

"Yeah?" he said. "You like seeing me get bigger?"

Tony didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand pressed firmly against Marco’s side, fingers sinking slightly into the soft flesh that hadn’t been there months ago.

When he finally looked up, meeting Marco’s eyes, his voice was low, certain.

"Yeah. I really, really do."

That was all Marco needed.

All the permission. All the encouragement. All the want he craved.

From that night forward, Marco leaned into it hard. He stopped pretending. He ate when he was hungry. He ate when he wasn’t. He let himself grow, surrendering completely to the slow, delicious swell of his body under Tony’s gaze. He polished off leftovers after every shift, snuck bites in when he wasn’t even hungry, showed up early just to "taste test" the new batches. 

Tony was always there. Always feeding, always watching, always wanting. The two lingered over lunches that grew heavier, lazier, longer. Tony would feed him from his own fork sometimes, laughing, teasing, rewarding Marco with warm looks making his belly and heart ache with need.

The changes became impossible to ignore, and impossible to hide. Marco’s chiseled jaw softened into a heavy beard that framed rounded cheeks. His chest, once proud and firm, broadened and sagged into heavy warm shelves of muscle and fat. His belly swelled into a massive globe, pushing the hem of his polo shirts up even while he stood still. His rear and thighs thickened so much that he split two pairs of pants in a single month. 

Tony just laughed, clapping him on the back and ordering the next size up. Then the next. And the next.

Marco couldn’t deny the flashes of embarrassment. Every day at work the glances from the customers continued, staring at the way his belly jutted out leading the way, the way his arms brushed against his thickened sides with every move, how he had to catch his breath after lifting a heavy tray.

It scared him sometimes when he saw old photos tucked in his phone: the strong, chiseled chef that had started at Tony's Famous Pizza full of ambition. His old body, the tight muscles and hard edges had been buried under the thick, plush layers he’d built up, layer by layer, bite by bite.

Marco had become a fixture of the restaurant, a big, boisterous, red-faced "Service Bull" who could toss pizza dough one-handed and polish off a tray of garlic knots without missing a beat. His booming laugh filled the kitchen and the front room. His sheer presence made Tony’s Famous Pizza feel warmer, fuller, realer. The public exposure stung sometimes, being seen like this, watched by his friends as his body expanded uncontrollably.

But then Tony would be there, catching his eye across the kitchen, giving him a wink or smirk, a low, possessive look that sent a warm thrill through Marco's belly even deeper than the food ever could.

Then, behind closed doors, it became something more.

It started with casual touches in the kitchen, a palm grazing over a wide hip, a playful tug at the hem of Marco’s shrunken shirt when it crept up to expose his heavy middle. Then kisses, stolen in the back room between orders- hungry, desperate kisses. Marco, massive and soft, couldn’t stop himself from being pushed against the stainless steel counters. He loved the feeling- Tony’s fingers gripping greedily at every thick curve, hands roaming without shame over everything Marco had grown for him. 

"You’re perfect," Tony whispered once, lips trailing along Marco’s flushed neck as Marco leaned against the cool metal wall, belly rising heavily.

"You made me this way," Marco whispered back, grinning, breathless. "Better thank yourself."

And Tony did — again, and again, and again.

By the time Marco fully grew into his "Service Bull" title, he was nearly double the size he had been the first day. The red uniform that clung desperately to him was strained at every seam, its fabric pulled taut across the wide curve of his stomach and the immense bulk of his upper body. Nothing could hide the permanent strip of skin visible underneath his shirt, his pants completely incapable of staying entirely above the waist. Marco’s thick arms had stretched the sleeves to their limit as he worked while his massive belly hung proudly over his beltline, heavy and warm against his thighs. The rest of his body jiggled and shook when he walked, a slow, confident swagger that filled every room he entered.

Tony couldn’t keep his hands or his eyes off of Marco, neither of them wanted that. After all, there would only ever be more of Marco to be appreciated.

[ludolka]

Do u think that Joel sometimes leaves Grians feather on his pillow and pretends there's still warmth there? That nothing's changed? That it isn't eeriely quiet and that his bed isnt empty of a bird that clings to him like he's the only touch that understands? Do u think he still wakes up, reaching for wings that he won't feel again? Maybe he missed being kicked or woken up to a soft voice asking for help with his wings. Maybe he craves the destructiveness, the chaos, the obsession. (Sorry for being insane you made me think heavily about the feather thing) ((I really *really* hope this ain't too dark or sad my writer brain was buzzing all day))

Nonny, I literally just woke up from a nap and this is the first thing I read and now I have feels and thoughts-

Oh how I love your brain. This is amazing, I love this so much. I’ll draw a comic based on this probably later today or maybe write a fic, I’ll decide which fits with my vision better. Also, I’m surprised how many people got feels because of that comic, both on here and TT, I didn’t even intend for it to be angsty :’)

I can totally see him being like this !! During the day, whether he’s alone or has company, he can be a tough guy who acts like he doesn’t care. He can create his own chaos or new alliances (relationships cough cough). Grian’s off doing whatever, maybe he’s with others, or working on a new building project, or in a different plane of existence with the watchers. Joel isn’t the type to go crawling back to anyone, let alone to someone like Grian. He’s fine by himself, he doesn’t need that clingy bird

But at night, when he’s truly alone, he lets his mask slip. There are no distractions, he can’t busy his mind or hands with anything while laying in bed trying to sleep. And he’s more desperate than he’d be willing to admit. He curses himself for throwing away so much of Grian’s fallen feathers and only keeping a handful. He shapes his blanket like a body next to his, but it’s not good enough, a blanket can’t hug him, so he opts to hug the blanket himself, being the big spoon for once. He places the few feathers he has on the second pillow next to his and hates how they are the color they are because he can’t see them in the dark. He wonders, again more times than he’d be willing to admit, whether Grian is sleeping alone or with someone else. If Grian is clinging to pillows and blankets in place of a body or if he’s clinging to someone else, maybe pretending it’s Joel again

He sometimes talks to the feathers once he’s tired enough that his brain doesn’t fight with him on it, about how absurd it is or how pathetic he is for doing so. He talks about his day, his upcoming plans, whatever rambling or ranting his tired brain can think of. He never tells the feathers he misses him though, that’d feel too vulnerable and speaking the words would make it feel more real to him

He falls asleep pretending like he isn’t alone and wakes up either still during the night or in the morning, thinking he isn’t for a few blissful moments before reality sets in and leaves him disappointed and yearning. He often finds himself thinking back to all the times they teamed up and somehow always ended up in the same bed at night, how he used to find it annoying at first, but how good he had it then and how little he used to really appreciate it

Truth is, he does miss their joint chaos and destruction, how easy it is to understand each other, how well they bounce off of each other, the banter and the arguing and the making up. He misses sleeping together, the sound of the other’s breathing, the warmth. He misses Grian

And to kinda circle back to a sentence you wrote, “Maybe he craves the destructiveness, the chaos, the obsession”, the obsession never left, he just no longer has an outlet for it

And he knows they’ll find each other again eventually, they always do. No force is strong enough to keep them separated for long. It’s just always unpredictable when, sometimes it’s weeks, sometimes it’s months. Maybe if they weren’t so stubborn and prideful they’d stop waiting for the other to make the first move and just seek each other out and have a proper vulnerable conversation. But they wouldn’t be themselves if they did that, they’d need to be different people to be able to do that. They can be open and vulnerable with each other at times, but never about their feelings for each other

In a different base, in a different place Grian waits each night to hear Joel. They can’t have an actual conversation like this, but the other doesn’t seem to mind that he’s talking alone and not getting a response. The more time they spend apart, the more regular these nightly “talks” get. And whenever they happen and he falls asleep to Joel’s voice, he sleeps better and wakes up feeling emptier

[dragonbe-writing]

Wildflowers and Cigarettes Pt 2 (John Price x OC)

Summary: John follows his wife back inside, trying to make ammends.

Word Count: ~1.9k

A/N: Hello! I'm having a lot of fun writing this story!! Requests are open!

Pt. 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She heard him follow after her as she set her mug down in the kitchen. She didn’t turn to acknowledge him, didn’t spare him another glance. She knew he had nowhere else to go, no other belongings than the ones he had here. 

Would he pack? Leave without another argument?

Surely he hadn’t sat on the porch all night for that, right?

Nothing had changed. John’s eyes drifted around the room, taking in every familiar detail. He had expected everything to be different. He toed off his boots, groaning softly in relief. He hadn’t realized how much he ached until now. 

Loitering behind her in the kitchen, he frowned at the empty vase on the island. What had she done with his wildflowers, then?

“...I have work,” she said to him, walking past him and disappearing into their room. He could practically see the rain cloud looming over her, the way her eyes avoided him, the uncertainty in her stubbornness. 

He peeked in the garbage— nothing. He looked out the drawn curtains, searching the backyard. They didn’t seem to be thrown out there, either. What had she done with them? He’d check the firepit when she left for work, see if it was still warm. 

Did she expect him to be gone by the time she got back? Would she let him stay, let him try to talk to her? He could hear her music playing, that reminiscent scene of her getting ready for work. He busied himself with the dishes, unloading the dishwasher. He remembered how much she hated it, how she had a tendency to let the dirty ones pile up. 

He’d do a million dishes if it meant getting to stay. 

Boots echoed on the ground, the smell of her perfume wafting into the room. Eyes narrowed as she watched him, huffing softly. “We can talk when I get home tonight,” she said, tucking hair behind her ear. 

He looked over his shoulder, nodding at her. “Alright. Have a good day at work, sweetheart,” he said softly, blue eyes scanning her discomfort. She turned without another word, tense as she grabbed her bag and headed out the front door. 

Her walls were up, and he knew it. It had taken a long time and a lot of trust for her to take them down the first time. It pained him to see them back up, to see her hurting herself because she was worried about being hurt again. But John wouldn’t hurt her again, he swore it. He’d do whatever she wanted, even if it was moving out. 

She’d always have a home with him. 

~~~

He was picking up around the house, trying to ease everything on her plate. Walking down the hall, he peered into her office, the door slightly ajar. 

Sitting on her desk was a vase full of wildflowers. He smiled— sentimental beneath all her stubbornness. Tucked away, hidden where she could admire them without admitting it. 

His beautiful, stubborn wife. 

~~~

She didn’t get any work done. She was distracted during meetings, zoning out. What was he doing at home? Packing? Resting? Trashing the place? 

He’d been so calm compared to the rage he had left with, she didn’t know what to do with it. He always came down from anger quicker than she did. It never failed to make her feel guilty, unable to expel the anger in her chest. She couldn’t just forgive and move on, no. She had to isolate, had to let it eat her up until she was certain she wouldn’t lash out, wouldn’t say something she didn’t mean. 

That’s what happened the last time she saw him. She couldn’t isolate herself in time, and he couldn’t calm himself. They blew up. She tried not to remember what she had said to him, but she had thought about it every night since then. It followed her to bed, tucked itself in where he used to lay. 

She missed her turn twice on the drive home. She had half a mind to go sit in the park for hours, delay the inevitable. But she couldn’t keep performing badly at work. She needed to have this discussion and move forward, no matter what happened. She didn’t have time to stop. 

“You work too hard, baby.”

“I don’t know how else to work, John. It’s my nature.”

Strong arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind, the weight of his chin settling on her head. She frowned at her computer, staring at the words on the screen. She could imagine how uncomfortable he was, bent over her chair to hold her like this. Thumbs smoothed along her the area where her shoulders met her neck, pressing gently. 

“Just a little break, yeah? I’ll make you some tea,” he murmured, squeezing her a bit tighter. 

“Coffee, please.”

“You’ll be up all night, sweetheart.”

“Exactly.”

A soft chuckle echoed in her mind as he moved his lips down to her ear, kissing her temple once. “Alright, coffee it is. But you have to take a break and come sit with me on the couch.”

She huffed at him, rolling her eyes. “How dare you care for me,” she said dryly, pushing her chair away from her desk and standing up. A hand swatted her bottom as she walked out from her office, making her cheeks burn. 

“My beautiful, stubborn wife,” he practically purred, hands grabbing her hips…

He heard the gravel shifting beneath her tires. Shelley bounded to the window, meowing as he watched her, tail flicking excitedly side to side. John could see her mood from the minute she stepped out of the car. He stood to greet her by the door, the way he used to. 

She sighed when she stepped through the threshold, shoulders slumping. He took her bag from her, Shelley weaving between her legs. “Hello, my love,” she said to him, scooping the ball of fur up in her arms. “Did you miss me today?” 

“I did,” he replied, smirking. He knew full well she wasn’t talking to him. The look he received made him chuckle. “I made dinner.” 

“…you did?” she asked, dropping Shelley and looking toward the kitchen. Toeing off her shoes, she walked into the dining room. Steak and potatoes— her favorite. “You didn’t have to—“

He held his hand up, pride shining in his eyes. “I wanted to, love. You deserve it. I put you through enough hell.”

She frowned at him, brown eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “I’m capable of cooking my own dinner.”

“I never said you weren’t.”

She looked down to her plate, sighing as she sat down. “This still isn’t enough for me to forgive you—”

“That isn’t why I did it, sweetheart,” he said gently, sitting across from her. “You seem… tired. I wanted to make your life easier. Take care of you in whatever way you’d let me.” 

She met his eyes, her own swimming with some deeply conflicting emotions. Run to him. Let it go. But how could she let it go? After everything they said to each other, after the yelling and name-calling. Neither one of them deserve forgiveness; was it even possible for two people to go back to loving each other after that? Pretending that they hadn't said it?

Sure, she hadn’t meant it. But she thought it, and she said it outloud, deliberately. To hurt him. 

And he made her dinner. 

She scowled at him, picking her fork and knife up to cut into the steak. “I oughta stab you with this,” she said, fire stoking in her eyes once more. He only chuckled, watching her take a bite. 

“Best do it outside— easier to clean up that way,” he noted, taking his own bite. She stayed quiet as she ate, looking over at him for only seconds at a time. She burned inside, needing him but not knowing how to ask for it, not knowing if she deserved that. 

“...honey,” he murmured, reaching across the table and laying his hand on her arm. His thumb rubbed along her skin, drawing her eyes to the warm spot. She watched it circle a few times before looking up to his eyes. 

Shelley jumped up on the kitchen island, distracting her. “Get down,” she snapped, making the rebellious little cat scurry off. But her eyes caught something else; she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it when she walked in. 

More wildflowers, arranged on the island. She looked back over to him, silently asking if he’d gotten them. 

He smiled a little. “They looked nice in your office. Thought you could use some out here, too.” 

She softened, almost impossibly so. Another bite of her steak, another string of unspoken words settling between them. 

“…you know I love you, right?” he asked quietly, hands clenching at the question. “I know I left angry, love, but that— that doesn’t mean I stopped. M’not sure I ever can.” 

The sincerity in his voice, the unwavering devotion in his baby blues, made her falter once more. Oh, how her pride burned bright. 

But oh, how she longed for him. 

“…I love you too,” she muttered. 

They finished their dinner in silence, his hand still on her arm. She let him keep it there, let them eat quietly. 

Talking could wait another day. 

~~~

She was getting ready for bed. She had spent the last hour out in the garden as the sun set. She was showered and in her nightgown, brushing through her hair. She could see John in the corner of the mirror, digging through the linen closet. 

“What are you doin’?” she asked him, watching him pull out a blanket and pillow. Her brows were furrowed in confusion. 

John adored that face. He loved watching her trying to figure things out, watching that sweet little pout come to her lips. He shrugged a little. “Assumed I was on the couch.”

“...oh,” she murmured, setting down her brush and moving closer. “I mean… you can if you want. I don’t think it’s necessary.” 

He smiled, nodding a little. He put back the blanket, closing the closet door. He slid into their bed, watching her finish up before bed. She bent over, hand running along Shelley’s back as the needy little thing meowed. Her nightgown fit her shape, revealing wide hips and a plump bottom. He sighed. 

“You always look so beautiful before bed,” he said softly, watching her stand back to her full height. She snorted, taking her wide glasses off and climbing into bed beside him. 

“Don’t push your luck, John.”

He chuckled, boyish smirk lighting up his cheeks. Diana had her back to him like usual, hair spread out over the pillow. She felt his hand land on her hip, his body framing hers. She hid the jolt of excitement that shot through her. 

“Yes ma’am,” he murmured, lips by her ear as his body cupped hers. “G’night, lovie.”

“Goodnight, honey.”

His heart leapt— honey. The first pet name she’d called him since he’d been back. Wrapping his arm around her front, he held her a bit tighter. Her curves against him made him dizzy with need. 

She smirked to herself as he tightened his grip. She knew exactly what she was doing wearing this nightgown. Making him suffer— just a little bit. A little game, nothing more. 

She squirmed, getting comfortable. And maybe she pushed back against him a little bit. She heard his breath catch. 

Gotcha. 

Taglist:

[balljointbf]

mom who adores her trans son, who thinks he's the cutest thing ever and only wants to support him in whatever way she can. she figures it's hard, considering he doesn't have any brothers, just sisters, and their dad goes away often for work trips. there's no real man who's around enough to help him out. but mom always is.

mom picks up on the changes when he starts hormones. he's a little angrier, hungrier, shuts himself away a little more than she'd like. it worries her, she hates to see her sweet boy retreating in on himself. so of course she checks on him frequently, just wanting to make sure he's okay and he knows she's there for her baby boy.

one day, she goes to check on him without knocking. it's mid-day on the weekend and she knows he's home, no reason why he'd be doing anything weird, right? she opens his door just a touch and peeks through the crack, come to find her son with his hand in his boxers, trying to masturbate but failing. he doesn't know how to touch himself, seeing as before testosterone, he had little to no sex drive.

she steps inside wordlessly, closing the door. the sound of the latch clicking is what startles her son, and he covers himself up out of sheer embarrassment.

"mom, what the hell?!" he huffs, sitting up in bed with flushed cheeks and a bit of a pout. "you can't just barge in!"

"what? it's nothing i haven't seen before. and last i checked, young man, this is my house, my rules," mom replies, sitting down on her son's bed. one hand rests on his thigh, her thumb lightly rubbing through his blanket. "let mommy help, sweetheart."

reluctantly, the son pushes the blanket off, then his boxers. his tdick is aching, his cunt a leaking mess. he just wants to cum, the poor thing. he watches as mom moves to sit behind him, making ample room so he can lean back against her chest and let her take care of him.

mom's hands smooth over his stomach, his hips, his thighs, only working him up more. it's not until he's squirming a little, huffing wordlessly that she actually touches him.

"you don't know how to touch yourself?" she murmurs in his ear, fingers trailing along his slit. the son shakes his head softly, mumbling a shaky "no" when her fingers brush against his tdick. it's throbbing under her touch, her middle finger rubbing little up and down strokes.

"i-i never- f-fuck- never learned. i j-just thought i-it would be w-weird to ask dad..." he says, his hands grasping the bedsheets beside his mother's thighs. his own are trembling, his noises uncontrollable as his mom's touch grows more intense, more firm. and when she switches from rubbing up and down to rubbing in circles, he whines pathetically. it's not supposed to feel good, it's just a demonstration, but then why does his tummy feel like it's getting tighter? why is his hole leaking as much as it is?

mom hums, her eyes trained between his thifhs as he squirms and bucks against her hand like a mutt in heat. "it's never weird to ask mommy or daddy for help, sweetheart. you're our little boy, of course we're going to help you in any way we can. we're so proud of you and your body, honey."

the son grasps mom's wrist, his breathing growing heavier as his orgasm approaches, "m-mom, my tummy feels weird, i-i think we should stop."

"just a little longer, sweetheart. you're almost there..."

he's about to protest when it hits him, that first of many white-hot waves of pleasure, his hips stuttering and back arching. mom's touch never ceases, even as he's whining and moaning and confused as to what's happening. the high lasts longer than he expects, and when it's gone he's a bit of a mess against his mother's chest.

"good job, honey," she murmurs, stroking his hair with her spare hand. the other is still stuck between her son's thighs, lazily touching his too-sensitive tdick. "we're not done yet though. we can't forget about your hole, can we?"

---

(i love moms lately... pls let this reach the right audience [t4t momson audience])

[tarovrispy]

hear me out on your best friend BOKUTO KOUTAROU being your friendly neighbourhood spiderman...

BOKUTO who always spoke silly motivational quotes (that sometimes you could get and sometimes you couldn't) be it in real life or on the screen as spiderman (when interviewed by news reporters) – it was one of the signs you used to figure out his identity

in order to figure out if your deductions that BOKUTO was spiderman was right, you decided to try something out – asking him out on a hangout just when spiderman was being featured on the news (in an interview) in that moment, BOKUTO who received a call from you panicked and took his phone out from his spiderman suit pockets (excusing himself from the interview to answer your call) you thought it was sweet of him to make time for you (and also hilarious about how easy it was for you to figure out his biggest secret then)

BOKUTO who got so excited he forgot to change out of his suit before swinging over to your house (after the interview) once he got your call about hanging out – it was then you realised you didn't have to make up a whole plan on how to confront him about his hidden identity

BOKUTO who initially tried to sheepishly cover up his mistakes by trying to explain that it was a fake spiderman suit that he bought to give you a little surprise (for he claimed to have think you called to hang out for you were upset) yet, he found himself lost for words when you countered his excuses and told him you knew he was spiderman

BOKUTO who started showing you his new ways of affection (after you found out about his secret identity) by dropping off your favourite snacks that he bought from the convenience store at your bedroom window (no matter the day or the weather) in fact, when he didn't drop by it was both of y'alls own secret signal that he wasn't feeling well or something came up

BOKUTO who would sometimes even take you on night swings (when you were feeling low / needed to relieve your head)

when BOKUTO first took you on your first night swing with him, you were so nervous that you clutched onto his arms so tightly, red rings appeared around his arms afterwards – when he took off his suit at home for a late shower, he snapped pictures of them to show you

BOKUTO whom you once invited to show up in his spiderman suit to be a "pretend spiderman" for your nephew's birthday party (for he was the biggest spiderman fan in the world) you thought inviting spiderman (without spending actual costs on a cosplayer) to his birthday party would end his birthday with an unforgettable note

BOKUTO who did better than your expectations at being a "pretend spiderman" until your nephew asked if he could shoot webs (which he did without much thinking as the both of them were far too enthusiastic greeting each other)

you were thrown into a frenzy then when BOKUTO made that slip up (thankfully, no one really at the party got suspicious – only claiming that you invited the best spiderman cosplayer ever) only your nephew who believes the real spiderman actually visited his birthday party (which well he's not wrong...)

BOKUTO who confessed to you as spiderman on one normal night swing y'all had (except he took a route y'all usually didn't take – raising your confusion and worries) however everything soon became clear when he purposely stopped y'all on a rooftop of a building which faced a wall of an abandoned building (on the wall spelt 'will you go out with me?' with webs) and obviously you said yes to him (because who wouldn't?)

BOKUTO who was so simple minded with his confession plan that he didn't even think about having to clear up the spider webs on the building afterwards (so the next morning, y'all woke to the internet trending with topics such as 'spiderman having a girlfriend')

BOKUTO who had a good laugh over the trending internet searches that morning with you on video call

a/n: sorry my intrusive thoughts came over me and before I knew it, I got to work so..!! I love bokuto koutaro and I lowk love spiderman (so how about both of them together <3?)

[hrtjun]

— 𝓯lash, flash, 감각적인 pose.

⋆𐙚 pairing: mingyu x fem!reader

⋆𐙚 warnings: strangers, nsfw but no smut, only making out, a lil fluffy and cheesy, MDNI

⋆𐙚 wc: 1.6k

⋆𐙚 other: non!idol mingyu, model!mingyu

⋆𐙚 a/n: I'm slowly getting back to writing as I used to write a lot of ffs but stopped a few years ago and It still feels new to me I feel like I forgot how to write so please bare with me 😕🤞

You and Kim Mingyu are both models. Though you don't know him personally yet, or the kind of person he is behind the scenes he’ll end up changing your life; Making you want him more despite never having held a full on conversation with the guy. You’ve seen him a few times before, merely sneaking looks and glances from far away from some of the events you've both participated in but never met him personally to introduce yourself. He’s one of the faces of Dior and frequently models in their designs for various magazines but gender is always separated in modeling, so women rarely work with the men in their company or see them unless for certain photoshoots or ads for the brand and now it’s come to the ‘unless’. You’ve been chosen to model by Dior with Kim Mingyu for the front cover of Dazed Korea promoting the upcoming Paris Fashion Week and you can’t help but feel nervous. What the hell? There’s no way.

You don't get nervous, you never get nervous for a photoshoot. Every photoshoot you do gets the biggest compliments. You’re going to serve as always and the photos are going to come out great. They always do and so much so that the photographer hates having to end a session with you. . So what's with this feeling? Maybe it was because you couldn't get your mind off Mingyu. You’ll never admit this out loud but Mingyu is so attractive. He’s so good looking he can pull off any outfit they give him and You don't know him as a person.. But damn, he’s hot… Your knees almost go weak at the thought of being next to him. Damn you, Kim Mingyu.

—

“You’re here! Great, I’m ready to start so say hi to Mingyu quickly then we’ll get you situated with some purses. This photoshoot will be more minimalistic as we want to put focus on the new Dior drop, so once you're ready get next to Mingyu then we’ll start. I want to start off with a duo photoshoot first with you two, then solo photoshoots next and you’ll be first followed by Mingyu. You got it?” The photographer smiled brightly at you.

You nodded at him before making your way towards Mingyu and he was already staring at you when you looked his way, your eyes locking with his immediately and you could see him swallowing hard, as if trying to stop himself from saying something.

Embarrassed, you looked away sure that your entire face was as red as a strawberry at that point from being caught. He was dressed in all black, from head to toe, (jewelry excluded) and even had a pair of shiny black Dior glasses sitting atop of his head. Yeah, he looked really, really, good.

As you made your way beside him you quickly bowed and said, “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Mingyu. Nice to finally meet you,” He replies with a small smirk. You just looked at him dumbfounded. Finally? What do you mean? But he never responded and you were cut off by the photographer shouting that he was ready to start.

It was around 40 minutes later and you and Mingyu were going over the last set of photos you took together, the staff showing you each photo that was taken on a big monitor standing behind the photographer, wanting to get your opinions on them. As the staff went through each photo you couldn't help but notice the smile and smirk that Mingyu would let out followed by a feeling of tension that you only hoped the photographer couldn't feel and did your best to ignore. It’s time for solo shoots finally. You felt relieved realizing that, knowing you could be more at ease without having to be nervous of the attractive guy who was merely inches away from you minutes earlier.

After changing in your dressing room and getting the jewelry needed you made your way back to the photographer and smiled, “I’m ready,” He looked up at you with excitement and shock. “Oh my god you look so good, jaw dropping good. This dress feels like it was made for you. You’ll do great, I swear my camera is in love with you,”

You just laughed lightly and thanked him before taking your spot and getting ready to pose for the camera. You were dressed in a long silk red dress that hugged your body perfectly and left your sides exposed, having only the smallest of gold metal along the sides to keep the fabric together. It fits you perfectly and if anything accentuates your curves more. It reminded you of the dress Dior had for Fashion Week in 1997 and you loved the way it fit you so much. You knew this wouldn't be the last time you’d be wearing it.

The silk red dress, topped with a few necklaces and rings and a black Dior purse made you stand out in the crowd of staff and employees but in the best way possible. The type of standing out where people can't help but look at you and notice you as soon as you enter a room. All eyes on you, because that's just how good you look.

“Ready? Let’s start.” You nodded after going over a few ideas in your head and posed for the camera. Many, many, poses and flashes later and you were finally reviewing your last set of photos. Damn, they came out good. Although you were tired and wanted a break you felt satisfied and were happy with how they turned out, thanking the staff next to the monitor and bowing at them before turning around to walk back to your dressing room to change. As you turned around though, you noticed Mingyu standing there looking amusingly in your direction and you couldn't help but smile at him. How long has he been standing there? You didn't know the answer to that but as you passed through the door by him, he smiled and bit his lip and you felt that tension again.

You had barely made it to your dressing room and opened the door before a pair of hands grabbed at your waist and pushed you inside, closing the door behind them. You turned around and looked up to see Mingyu staring at you with the most intense and desirable look on his face, not even wasting a second before he grabs you by the face and kisses you. He didn't even give you a chance to say anything just immediately put his lips to yours hungrily, as if he had been waiting his whole life to do it.

A small gasp managed to escape your mouth from the shock but you just wrapped your arms around his neck, not hesitating to kiss him back. He smiled and bit at your bottom lip, tugging at it slightly so he could slip his tongue inside your mouth and you gladly let him do so as he deepened the kiss, hands now around your thighs as it turned from kissing to just full on making out. Not that you were complaining, though.

Things were going fast and you wanted to let yourself give in but you remembered the photoshoot.. Mingyu had his solo shoot next and he definitely couldn't go back in a mess, plus he needed time to change. “Mingyu, enough.. we have to stop.. You still have your photoshoot.” You let out between breaths. He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, slightly shaking his head no with heavy breaths. “You don't know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment, since the day I first saw you I haven't been able to get you and that white dress out of my head and I was so lucky to be given this chance, I’m not wasting it.. You look so good, god, you’re so beautiful, I just couldn't help myself and I noticed you eyeing me too so please, let me have this moment with you. I’ll go back after,” And just like that he's pressing his lips against yours yet again, but this time with more force as you grip onto his hair and melt into his touch.

He let out a small groan of satisfaction at the sudden grip, grabbing you by the legs and holding you up as he threw you against the wall of your dressing room and moved his lips from your mouth to your neck as he made his way down, leaving breathy kisses with his lips lingering on you as if he wanted to enjoy every second and every last inch of you that he could.

You were letting out small whines at the touch because damn, you were definitely turned on and damn, you certainly couldn't do anything about it. Mingyu moved his lips from your neck and smirked, seemingly satisfied at the effect he had on you and rested his forehead on yours once more, holding your hand in his. “I should probably go now.. But I’ll see you later, right? What do you say, my house at 7?” You nodded immediately, a small grin forming on your lips.

“Cool.. We can finish what we started. See you soon, pretty girl.” And with that he was gone after winking suggestively at you.

[cococubess]

Sofia the First Pre-Canon Headcanons

because i guarantee royal magic won’t touch on the characters pasts

The Village

• Miranda had a bad relationship with her parents and ran away in her teenage years. This is why Sofia’s maternal grandparents are never mentioned.

• Miranda didn’t intend to stay in Dunnwitty long, but met Birk while passing through and eventually they decided to settle down there together. Neither had great childhoods, and committed to making Sofia’s the best they possibly could.

• Miranda and Birk’s wedding was the cheapest option in a dingy little church, but it felt infinitely more special to the extravagant one she had with Roland.

• Jades mother died in childbirth and her father is constantly busy with work to support himself and his daughter. This is why Jade is always alone, even on her birthday. Miranda and Helen would almost always have her staying at their homes because of this.

• Jade has a fear of abandonment because of how often her dad is gone, causing her to act out when she thinks someone is leaving her (A Tale of Two Teams, for example).

• Ruby is the only one in her trio of friends that has both biological parents still alive. Even though her dad is never mentioned, I like to think that he helps to provide for the family meaning that Helen has extra time to be a Buttercup troop leader.

• When Birk died at sea, half of Miranda’s income was gone, causing her to severely struggle with money even more. She didn’t tell Sofia that Birk actually died, just that he got lost at sea. In reality, he was confirmed dead, but she didn’t have the heart to break it to Sofia, who figured it out on her own anyway.

• Sofia was 4-6 years old when Birk died so her memories of him are sparse. They were very close when he was alive though.

• When she got called to the palace to make Roland new shoes, Miranda didn’t intend to pursue him romantically, but took the opportunity to try and get more money out of it by talking to him kindly and humanizing herself so he’d feel sympathetic and pay her more for the job.

• This is why she brought Sofia to the appointment despite not needing her help- she figured that the king would be more likely to pay better if he saw that Miranda had a child.

• Roland, however, thought it was love at first sight. Realizing that she could get more than just donations out of him, Miranda, despite not immediately feeling much attraction to him, did everything she could in order to woo him.

• Miranda did eventually end up loving Roland as well, but it was never the same way she felt about Birk.

• While doing something morally wrong in using Roland for his money, Miranda had good intentions, only wanting to be able to provide a good life for Sofia.

• When Roland insisted he buy her anything she wanted as a wedding gift, Miranda only asked he buy the village shoe shop in order to preserve Sofia and her old life. This is why it hasn’t changed at all, as Sofia says, when they visit it in Forever Royal.

The Castle

• Roland and Lorelei’s marriage was arranged by his father. While they did love each other, Roland felt more strongly towards Miranda.

• Amber was always told by the castle staff that she looked like her mother growing up. This stopped when Roland remarried, but left a lasting impression on her.

• Roland never destroyed the wishing well because he still had some hope that he could use it to bring Lorelei back.

• All portraits of Lorelei but one were destroyed after her death, which Roland keeps hidden in one of the castles secret passages.

• Roland chose the amulet for Sofia for the reason he told her, but also because he knew how much Tilly loved it at Sofia’s age. He told Sofia that it’s “very special,” since Tilly told him the same thing when they were kids.

• Tilly was very close to being the one to save Elena, but Elena worried that she was a little too scatterbrained to pull it off and waited for Sofia instead.

• Tilly and Cedric never got to know each other all that well as children, but had sympathy for one another as they were both the least favorite child of their respective families.

• Tilly was bullied at Royal Prep (I assume that’s where she and Roland went) because of the way she acted- she never let it get to her though.

• The secret passages in the castle (as seen in the Secret Library, for example) were made as ways for the servants to get around, but were forgotten about overtime. Some of them are still used for the same purpose, but other ones were blocked off.

• Cedric has scars across his body from failed spells and experiments. He feels that they make him a failure, hence wearing several layers of clothes to hide them constantly. The worst of the scars are on his hands.

• Cordelia had Calista out of wedlock, something extremely frowned upon at the time. Despite their bad blood, Cedric never looked down on his sister for it, sparking an agreement that they would get along for the sake of Calista.

• Calista’s only male role model growing up was Cedric which is why she fixated on him so much. Cedric is so uncomfortable with the attention because of how his other family members look down on him. He is scared that Calista’s love for him will one day fade like his sisters did, and is afraid to get attached to her because of it.

there is infinite material to work with, i swear. i think i’ll try to make a timeline of all the episodes at some point too. and who had the amulet when…hmm…

[milkkytxars]

A rant before the day ends, this is for people who didn't understand Clotted Cream's character. And for me, because I love him (It could be seen as an analysis but I'm mostly just rambling)

This is entirely self indulgent and probably completely biased, I want to make sure that's clear lmao

With the popularity of Jambound (love the fic, genuinely one of the best things to read if you like shadowvanilla) I've noticed how a lot of people straight up hate Clotted Cream Cookie on crktwt.

(I'm not saying everyone was super serious about it, some of it was definitely more in a joking manner, but I know that some other comments weren't ironic)

The fic doesn't portray him badly- in fact, for the amount of time he gets he's actually pretty accurate to canon.

And listen, the guy is annoying. We can all agree that he's fundamentally a grey character that isn't necessarily supposed to be extremely likable.

But genuinely hate him?? For his character??? I didn't know people still did that! I genuinely thought everyone had appreciated him more after finishing the Odyssey and the hype around him died down.

Because, I've seen people hate him back when the Odyssey first released because he was too popular or because he had a fake persona, but I've seen people on twt express that they hated Clotted Cream more after they finished the Odyssey in full!!

I feel like Clotted Cream is a pretty nuanced character, and that he grew a lot through the story. Just not in a super noticeable way, but rather, in the small things. He's definitely still the same person, with the same political mannerisms that would annoy anyone, but he's not...evil like some people say he is.

(Here I'm going to start talking about spoilers, so feel free to stop reading if you haven't finished the Odyssey)

When you finish the Odyssey, I feel like you're supposed to understand him better and be able to come to terms with some of his more questionable actions.

He's not two-faced simply because it's enjoyable for him to be. He's two-faced because he's been raised as a political weapon by his adopted father.

He is discouraged from seeing his biological mother, even though it's clear that he doesn't truly want to sever their connection and he still cares about her to some degree. But because he's the definition of a politician, he knows that acknowledging her in his position will only do more harm than good.

And I know it's nicer to believe that he can just turn the tide and change the entire thing, but that's not how the republic works. Or at least it's not how Clotted Cream thinks the republic works.

His connection to his mother can be used against him at any time, and I wouldn't be surprised if that's exactly what Elder Custard has told him his entire life.

Even though he follows Elder Custard's orders and advice, he doesn't like doing so, and it's very clear from the fact that he betrays him the moment he's given a chance to.

It's not only to further his own goals, but because Clotted Cream cares deeply about the republic! Everything in his life has always revolved into protecting and serving the place, and he will do anything to do so.

And because of that, the eyes of the republic are also always on him. Whether it is to make himself useful or to help people, or just to prove himself like he's always been told to do to be worthy, he's doing what he thinks is right while still trying not to fully fall from power.

In politics, this is playing smart.

He tries to gather information on what is happening because it's important for him to know. He talks Gingerbrave into telling him more, but he never extorts him into speaking up about what happened. It's important for Clotted Cream to know what happened with Dark Enchantress, whether he was using that information to gain access to the souljams or not.

People thinking that Pure Vanilla trusted him too easily are treating Pure Vanilla like someone naive. He knows what Clotted Cream is doing, and he understands that ultimately it's because of a sense of duty. It doesn't matter that it's not to the Vanilla Kingdom, because those in the republic are what Clotted Cream cares for.

Also. Nobody in the Republic truly cares about the Vanilla Kingdom, they're only interested in it for their own legacy and prestige it gives them, they don't fully care or understand Pure Vanilla's wishes and teachings. It's only natural that Clotted Cream, having grown up with this idea in mind, doesn't fully see the extent of the importance of what Pure Vanilla preaches at the start and is only concerned with his own goals as a consul.

And even then, Clotted Cream is still one of the firsts to realize the Five Heroes' importance to earth bread and the protection of cookie kind.

Nobody but Clotted Cream could have made this promise, because no one else in the republic truly trusted in the heroes' abilities! (And those who did either couldn't do anything, or wouldn't bother to do anything) Clotted Cream gained immense political power after Dark Enchantress' attack and used it to follow Pure Vanilla.

People seem to forget that the one orchestrating most of the bad things with the souljams is Elder Custard. Clotted Cream is the one that gathers enough power by his side, takes power away from his father, and manages to go through with both his plan to make stronger soldiers for the republic he so dearly wants to protect while also helping Gingerbrave and co. Into returning the souljams.

(Elder Custard didn't flee only because of the attack, a smaller reason why he fled was because he was trying to save face! This was all going to come bite him in the ass, and he knew his connection to Clotted Cream was unlikely to be able to save him from the fall this time around)

Yes, it's a bit infuriating that he has to be told about things to go through with helping, but I think that just makes his character more interesting.

Because, why does he do that? Why does he always wait for confirmation or encouragement from someone to fully act?

Is it because he's been raised like that and he can't bring himself to disobey authority figures unless it's done behind everyone's backs? Or is it because he's aimless without his role in the republic, and is constantly walking on a thin line of trying to think for himself while also having to put on a perfect face?

There's even a line in a loading screen explaining that he had to spend hours, probably as a kid, practicing a perfect smile before going out into the public! That's not something someone who doesn't feel pressured or feels like they can be themselves freely does.

It's always implied that he's scared something will go wrong because of his actions. He knows his position is important, so everything he does can bring destruction to everything he's worked for, and that's scary.

You can even see this in the way he reacts to Dark Enchantress' attack. He's done the best he could but- was it enough? This power is simply too much, did he make a mistake? How many casualties are going to come from this? Will he be able to come out of this unscathed?

He has to be pulled away from those thoughts with the help of someone else, and yet there's not a single moment in which he considers the option of being a coward and leaving.

He wants to fight for his home. Not for his ancestors or for house custard, but for those that count of him- and yes, most importantly, he fights for himself. And I don't think that's wrong. I just think people compare him to Pure Vanilla's kindness a bit too much.

(I love PV but his levels of compassion cannot be replicated by anyone else, even his own people lmao)

At the end of the third chapter, he even goes back to the Vanilla Kingdom and tries to be himself a little more, opening up a bit, even if he still can't fully let go of the perfect mask he's put on his entire life. When the children offer him raisins, he hesitates before accepting them- you can tell that he's trying to be warmer in a more genuine way, he has no reason to accept the raisins if he didn't like them and/or wanted to make the children happy.

And in the Christmas Story Event (I don't remember the name, I apologize) he goes to visit his mother! Because he realizes that "I have full control of my life now, I can allow myself to do these kind of things"

A little extra: the only interaction he has (at least that it's recorded in the wiki) with another cookie is with Milky Way! Based on her words, they had met in dreams, possibly being that Clotted Cream had once been in the Dream Express but forgot about it.

For what we have seen, those who appear into the express either have a destination, are searching for something, or have lost their path.

It's implied that Clotted Cream was most likely a child when he entered the Dream Express, therefore- maybe he got there when he got adopted into house custard? Milky Way says that Clotted Cream spoke about being a custard cookie with no custard in his dough, which is only something a young Clotted Cream would have admitted to being an issue for him.

To me, this just proves the point that he's always trying to prove himself as worthy. Aside from the fact that Elder Custard is constantly pressuring him into playing his part and making House Custard greater.

It is literally said by Elder Custard that if he had more family left, he wouldn't even have adopted Clotted Cream in the first place! That places a heavy toll of a child.

What I'm trying to say is- yes, Clotted Cream is the definition of a guy that you know is fake but everyone loves him so you can't do anything about it, and that's rightfully annoying! He's an annoying character!!

Some of the things he does or say are brushed off way too fast for the sake of the plot, and that's also annoying.

But Clotted Cream himself, especially after having finished the Odyssey in its entirety? I feel like he's a pretty well written character, and I don't truly understand why people hate him so much.

Especially because a lot of people that hate him love Shadow Milk, I've seen them portray Fount of Knowledge exactly the way Clotted Cream's character plays out and everyone loves him for it! But for Clotted Cream is somehow a bad thing.

But maybe that's just me. Sorry for the heavy rant, I just really like Clotted Cream lmao

[lifeofaninstigator]

Ed laughed a little at that. "Sure. It's a good idea to start off with the basics anyway." He didn't want to overwhelm Alfons with too much at once. He was just grateful Alfons was entertaining the idea of helping him. The last thing Ed wanted to do was chase him off by dumping too much information all at once. He took a drink of his coffee, trying to figure out where to start. Showing Alfons the arrays was once thing, but explaining them and how they worked was another. Ed thought back on how his early alchemy books explained basic transmutations.

They would need to start from scratch with this. Ed remembered when him and Alphonse used to pour through the books when they were little and how interesting everything was. He would need to teach Alfons from the beginning. He had never had to teach someone before and he had to keep reminding himself to take it slow no matter how tempting it was to skip parts and explain everything at once.

"Yeah, if you change the array it changes what kind of transmutation you're doing. Think of the array as a blueprint for what you want to make. It's a way to channel your energy and to pull energy from the ground to make the outcome of what you want." Ed pointed to the array. "If I moved some of these lines, I'd end up with something different. But the outer circle has to stay that shape in order for it to work. The circle is important. It helps with how the energy flows in order to complete the transmutation."

He listened to Alfons' question. "In alchemy you're pulling energy from the ground and combining it with your own. The array would be the closest thing to a catalyst since it helps to channel that energy to make what you want. When you use the array, you're also visualizing what you want to do. Usually the array is put on the ground, but there are alchemists that have arrays either tattooed on their bodies or their gloves. Another important thing is that you also need to have the materials there already. If you want to transmute something into metal, you have to have the materials there in the right amount. You can't make something metal out of wood, for example. That's the law of equivalent exchange and something all alchemists understand."

Ed wanted to teach him Amestrian? Alfons glanced down at the incomprehensible text scribbled across the page. There was so much written in this language he knew nothing about, not even how it sounded or was pronounced. There was no way that he'd be able to understand something presumably written in significant depth if the language was one more thing that he'd be learning from scratch, but if he took the time to try, it offered the opportunity to unlock a new form of knowledge that would be otherwise inaccessible. That alone piqued his interest. Though his smile was a bit quizzical as he wondered the practicality of it, curiosity won out, and he nodded. "Let's start with what you were already going to show me tonight, but maybe we can try once I have a better idea of what I'm looking at."

But at least Ed seemed to have some understanding that what he was saying sounded so difficult to believe. There wouldn't be any misunderstanding that Alfons was still skeptical. Misinterpreting that could lead to some conflict later on, but that he was still willing to try seemed to be an acceptable middle ground between the two of them.

Though there was still that lingering topic of the war, a topic they rarely addressed. But Ed was right that it felt like everything was crumbling down around them, and it had for some time. And things weren't getting any better. It wasn't a topic he was eager to broach, but it wasn't something they could ignore. He did care deeply about his homeland and hoped that his work on the rocket could help to advance science, but he didn't want to be involved in the war and didn't want his work to be either, so he would have understood Ed's anxiety over being dragged into it. Though of course he didn't have the context that Ed had already been involved in his own military before coming here.

But that could be the focus of another conversation. Right now, they needed to focus on the arrays. He stared at the one he'd pointed to as Ed explained what it did and how it worked, but no matter how intently he looked at it, the system was still a complete mystery to him. He traced the line Ed had directed his attention to with his finger, as if that would make it clearer. "So if you change this, the figure would become something else?"

He stared down at it intently for a moment longer then raised his eyes up to meet Ed's, brow slightly furrowed as he tried to make sense of it. "So what's the catalyst? Do you put his paper on top of and that somehow directs the energy from something else? There has to be something else that initiates the reaction."

[archiepelago]

alternate surface au inspired by a few ive seen around on tumblr :3

[thechy-fychannel]

y'all ever think abt how it was julie having the affair and it is even said multiple times that she was the one who left him, yet wilson was still the one who left their home and moved in with house. like. he couldn't bear to stay in their home alone. he immediately ran to house and stayed on his couch for weeks. suffered through his pranks and his laziness and his manipulation. telling him he wants him gone while sabotaging his attempts to leave. and he only left once he got a girlfriend again.