#its makes me a warm and wiggly

[kitmoas]

Tell us about your crush(es?)!

[metamorphesque]

you seem to know an awful lot about poetry,, think you can help me out?

i remember a while ago i read a heartwrenching poem of a young women recovering from suicide when she asks her father for a specific fruit that was out of season in their particular region, so he drives across state lines to acquire it.

its been bugging me all day sorry if this is random

It's from "Cherry" by Mary Karr

When Daddy comes in, he carries you to bed. Is there anything you feel like you could eat, Pokey? Anything at all? All you can imagine putting in your mouth is a cold plum, one with really tight skin on the outside but gum-shocking sweetness inside. And he and your mother discuss where he might find some this late in the season. Mother says hell I don’t know. Further north, I’d guess. The next morning, you wake up in your bed and sit up. Mother says, Pete, I think she’s up. He hollers in, You ready for breakfast, Pokey. Then he comes in grinning, still in his work clothes from the night before. He’s holding a farm bushel. The plums he empties onto the bed river toward you through folds in the quilt. If you stacked them up, they’d fill the deepest bin at the Piggly Wiggly. Damned if I didn’t get the urge to drive to Arkansas last night, he says. Your mother stands behind him saying he’s pure USDA crazy. Fort Smith, Arkansas. Found a roadside stand out there with a feller selling plums. And I says, Buddy, I got a little girl sick back in Texas. She’s got a hanker for plums and ain’t nothing else gonna do. It’s when you sink your teeth into the plum that you make a promise. The skin is still warm from riding in the sun in Daddy’s truck, and the nectar runs down your chin. And you snap out of it. Or are snapped out of it. Never again will you lay a hand against yourself, not so long as there are plums to eat and somebody-anybody-who gives enough of a damn to haul them to you. So long as you bear the least nibblet of love for any other creature in this dark world, though in love portions are never stingy. There are no smidgens or pinches, only rolling abundance. That’s how you acquire the resolution for survival that the coming years are about to demand. You don’t earn it. It’s given.

[featherlight-touches]

Under Arrest

Kazuha/Heizou

a/n: thank you for the request! I've never written for these two before but I love them sm so this was fun! I hope you enjoy!

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

Kazuha sat beneath a tall, sakura tree, its delicate pink petals drifting down around him as he gazed out over the landscape of Inazuma, the setting sun casting a warm, golden glow across the horizon.

 After a long, tiring day, he finally allowed himself a moment of respite, his eyes slipping shut as he let out a deep, contented sigh. The gentle breeze ruffled his hair, the soothing sounds of nature washing over him and easing the tension from his weary muscles. A true moment of tranquillity.

Until he senses it…

Kazuha pretends that he doesn’t hear those familiar footsteps approaching him, until a warmth settled down across his lap as a certain detective lowered himself down, making himself comfortable.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as Kazuha’s eyes fluttered open, gazing down at Heizou, who had let out a big, satisfied sigh and nuzzled his head comfortably in the samurai’s lap.

“Well, hello,” Kazuha smiled, letting his fingers run through Heizou’s hair, tenderly. The gentle motion was enough to elicit a pleased hum from the detective. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here today.”

“I just happened to be passing by and saw the elusive Kazuha Kaedehara lowering his guard. So, I took my opportunity to apprehend him.”

“Ah, I see,” Kazuha let his eyes look up the pink petals falling around them, amused by Heizou’s words. “So, you’re here to arrest me, is that it?”

“That depends.”

Kazuha’s gaze dropped down to the detective once more who had one eye open, a light olive green hue looking up into Kazuha’s red ones.

“Depends on what?”

“On how well you can convince me not to turn you in,” Heizou’s teasing smirk took form upon his lips which Kazuha couldn’t help but huff a laugh at. He then brought the hand that was teasing his burgundy locks to glide down to the side of his face, cupping his cheek gently and letting his thumb stroke across the soft skin.

“I think I may have a way,” Kazuha lowered his head down to plant a soft kiss to Heizou’s lips, who chased after them the moment their lips parted, but the white-haired male only smiled.

Heizou hummed. “It’s going to take a little more than that, I’m afraid. You know how loose my lips can be when it comes to these kinds of things, and I can’t guarantee that- ah!”

Kazuha’s fingers playfully pinched the exposed detective’s sides. “Oh, I know. But this method of persuasion has always proved effective in the past.”

“Dohon’t you dare!” Heizou brought up his arms to defend himself, knowing that Kazuha always liked to take advantage of his clothing choices. However, his defences failed to keep those wiggly fingers of Kazuha’s away, and Heizou’s sweet giggles poured out of him as they ran up and down his sides and ribs. “Kazuhahaha!”

“Yes, detective?” Kazuha had to follow the squirming Heizou as he managed to escape off his lap onto the grass below them. Heizou tried in vain to bat Kazuha's hands away, but the samurai was relentless, his touches growing more teasing and daring as he sought out Heizou's most sensitive spots.

“Thihihis isn’t fahAHAir!” Heizou squealed once Kazuha’s hands travelled through the gaps of his clothes onto his bare stomach, a spot noted to be effective in the past.

“On the contrary, I think it's very fair,” Kazuha teased, deciding to put a stop to the rapidly flailing hands of the detective. “Let’s just keep these up here, shall we?” he pinned both wrists up above Heizou’s head with just his one hand.

Kazuha noted the sudden tint of pink forming across Heizou’s face, clearly flustered by the position they were in.

“Well now,” Heizou smirked, trying to front his own embarrassment behind his usual flirty demeanour. “In public, Kaedehara? I might have to add that to the list of charges, you know?”

Now it was time for Kazuha to blush. Darn him. The mischievous glint in his eye and wiggling his fingers teasingly in front of Heizou’s view gave away exactly what he planned to do next.

“No! Nonono, wait! KazuHAHAHA!” Kazuha’s fingers skittered along those vulnerable armpits. “I wahahahas KIDDING!”

“Either a brave thing or a stupid thing to do in your current position, wouldn’t you agree?” he laughed along with Heizou’s desperate peals of laughter as they rang out, legs kicking out as he tried anything to rid himself of the unbearably ticklish assault on his underarms.

“OKAHAHAY, STOHOHOP! Kazuha! … I cahahan’t breathe!”

It was only when Heizou’s laughter turned completely silent that Kazuha finally relented, letting his fingers rub up and down Heizou’s sides to assist in ridding him of the ticklish sensations.

“So mean… Kazuha.” Heizou panted, rubbing away the tears of mirth that leaked from his eyes.

“You left me no choice, Heizou.”

“I left you plenty of choice, actually, you sadist.” Heizou argued, which Kazuha laughed at, a soft sound that Heizou couldn’t help but smile when he heard it.   

“Am I still under arrest?”

“I guess not,” Heizou sighed from exhaustion, eyes looking to the sky above before looking back to the samurai. “I still want my kiss though!”

Kazuha smiled warmly and lowered his lips down to grant Heizou his request. A longer kiss this time, both savouring it. “As you wish, my love.”

[meowzfordayz]

when your anxiety spikes — inosuke, genya, sanemi

Author’s Note: just a lil fluff to end my evening (#writer is TIRED lol). ☺️😴

when your anxiety spikes — inosuke, genya, sanemi

Hashibira Inosuke x Reader, Shinazugawa Genya x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~800

CW: anxiety/panic disorder, death content

Emergency Request Fulfilled: This is going to be such a strange emergency request so feel free to ignore 😭 all day I’ve been smelling blood like an iron smell and it’s making me so unsettled😭 idk if it’s a nosebleed that won’t come out or if I’m Tanjiro now but I’m so unnerved by this

If you could write a little preference of sanemi Inosuke and genya calming down an anxious reader I’d appreciate it because I’m convinced I’m dying 😭

~faqs~

“Why’re you all jittery?” Inosuke mutters, placing a firm palm on your knee, “I’m hungry too y’know.”

Swallowing a wry chuckle, you rest your hand on top of his, reveling in his steadiness, “I’m not jittery because I’m hungry.”

“Then why’re you all wiggly?” he asks again, scowling with confusion, “You’re not usually this wiggly!”

“Only you would call feeling anxious wiggly,” you snort, amusement softening your gaze as his eyes widen in realization.

“Well why didn’t you say so?!”

Promptly shoving aside the imminent prospect of dinner, Inosuke’s full attention radiates intense and warm on your clammy, tired skin.

“Surprisingly, when I’m feeling anxious, I don’t feel like announcing that I’m feeling anxious,” you mutter quietly.

“But you still manage to be as sarcastic as ever,” he huffs, “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been smelling blood all day.”

“Blood?!” he nearly growls, “Are you injured?! ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“Inosuke,” an alarmed giggle forces itself through your nose, exasperated appreciation for his concern tamping down your still stirring anxiety, “You’re not helping.”

“Oh,” he immediately switches gears, suddenly so serious that your giggling continues, “I’m sure you’re fine. Stop overreacting.”

Silence fills the dining room as you slowly raise an eyebrow, goosebumps raising on his arms… 1… 2… 3…

“I’M SORRY, I DON’T KNOW HOW TO HELP.”

You burst out laughing at the gruff anguish in his voice, quickly pecking his cheek to soothe his own panic, “That’s quite alright, Inosuke. It’s the thought that counts. Thank you for caring.”

“Of course I’m going to care! I love you!” he declares loudly, clearly disgruntled toward himself.

“I know, I know,” you shake your head fondly, nodding toward the entrance as the door slides open, and the aroma of dinner seeps into the space, “And I love you. You’re probably right, I’m probably fine,” winking boldly, “And I know you’ll be here for me if I’m not.”

Aaand now Inosuke’s torn between scarfing down dinner or carrying you to his room for a cuddlefest.

SHINAZUGAWA GENYA

Genya’s composure cracks when your anxiety spikes — in a very soft, delicate, really-unlike-him manner. As soon as your breathing becomes uneven: his eyes narrow, he immediately mutters Bye to whoever he’s talking to (literally mid sentence too), and stalks over to your side. To anyone else, he likely appears pissed off, but the gentle way he covers your hand with his, guiding you away from the crowd (while glaring at anyone who seems even slightly curious about whatever’s occurring) — he’s the opposite of pissed off.

He’s quiet as he asks, “What can I do for you?”

He’s warm as he brushes your hip with his thumb, reassuring you of his physical presence, “Do I need to get someone?” Teach someone a lesson?

And devoted as he nods once, “We can go home. I was bored before we arrived anyway, everyone else sucks.”

And even though you’ll admonish him Genya, they’re our friends! They do not all suck, he’s more than content to play up his own disdain for social events and overwhelming spaces if it means getting to see your frazzled stare melt back to its usual sharpness — a tiny sliver pulsing with adoration whenever you decide to look at him.

“I smell blood all the damn time,” Sanemi grunts, “So what?”

“It’s not about the blood,” you sigh, arms crossed.

“Then what’s it about?” he sighs louder, “I don’t understand.”

“It’s about how the blood makes me feel.”

You feel a little silly attempting to explain your anxiety to him, but you know he means well… and you also know he really won’t understand unless you’re patient with him.

“I just feel anxious smelling it. Like, is there something wrong with me-”

“-no,” he can’t help interrupting, his affection for you slipping through.

You smile despite yourself, nudging his shoulder with a satisfied sound—he’s absolutely not blushing thank you very much he totally is—before continuing, “Am I imagining it? Is it something simple that will go away? Am I dy-”

“You’re not dying,” he interrupts again, this time with an eye roll, “I’d know if you were.”

The sincerity, the darkness, of his tone freezes you, somehow reassuring even as it seizes you.

“Not to be weird,” he grimaces, backtracking quickly as dread threatens to cloud your gaze, “I just- … you mean a lot to me, so I’d know if you weren’t okay. Physically. I’d tell you to report to Shinobu.”

“Tell me?” you ask lightly.

“Carry you there myself,” he smirks, confidence overcoming the heat in his face, “Because you mean a lot to me.”

“Ah.”

“Does that help?” he murmurs softly.

You gulp, calloused fingers squeezing your wrists as he guides you closer.

“Knowing that you mean a lot to me? Knowing that I’m looking out for you?”

You nod, smiling now as you meet his earnest stare, thrilled by his unexpected gift of vulnerability and sincerity  — by his revelation of tender intent.

“You help,” you whisper, shyly kissing his chin.

“Good,” he whispers, kissing your forehead in return, “I’m trying my best.”

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

Blindsided (Hound x reader)

Summary: When you're tackled by a massiff on your morning commute, you never could have predicted it would end in a date.

Pairing: Sgt. Hound x reader

Rating: M but minors DNI

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Grizzer being the bestest girl; reader nearly gets stood up but it works out in the end; Hound being somehow suave and put together and also a mess; suggestive/fade-to-black; first kisses

A/N: This one is for @idoubleswearimawriter ! Hope you enjoy, babes. This was super fun and I know am an Official™ Hound simp. I hope I did him justice!! 

“Grizzer! Ke’mot!” 

The harsh command shouted across the busy Coruscant square makes heads turn, yours included. Just in time, too—there’s a flash of muted browns and a streak of pink before you’re tackled to the ground. Your belongings scatter, and you just manage to avoid cracking your head on the steel walkway. Dull pain blooms everywhere else, though. For a moment, anger flares inside you. Who let their pet off its leash? 

Then, a warm, sandpapery tongue licks the side of your face. Giggling, you hold your hands up to ward off the obviously dangerous attack, anger fizzling into delight. You push yourself into a sitting position to find yourself face-to-face with a very wiggly massiff who, upon realizing you’re not hurt, turns her entire body to thump her rear against you. The look she gives you over her shoulder seems to be pleading: C’mon, give me scritches! And who are you to deny such a request?

Glancing around, you discover with belated embarrassment that you’re the center of attention. At least bystanders are beginning to lose interest and drift away, resuming their commutes. A single person being knocked prone by a K-9 massiff is barely enough to result in petty gossip on Coruscant. 

Hang on, K-9? You do a double take—sure enough, on the massiff’s harness are the two letters emblazoned in bold white font. 

“Am I in trouble, huh, girl?” you ask the massiff.

“Grizzer!”

Snapping your head up, you locate the source of the gruff voice. Cutting through the crowd like a vibroknife is one of the Coruscant Guard; helmeted, but the design is unlike any of the other troopers you’ve observed from afar. The side plates extend down, painted in the visage of a snarling massiff; a red stripe runs down the center of his visor. He halts a few feet away, fists planted on his hips. 

You clack your jaw shut, realizing you’re staring. “This your dog?”

The massiff, Grizzer you assume, whines quietly. She takes her weight off of you but remains close as she snuffles at your pockets.

“Grizzer,” the trooper repeats, his voice cold and unforgiving through the vocabulator, “gev.”

Reluctantly, Grizzer trots to her handler, her head hanging low, tongue lolling between her teeth. She settles at his feet, her eyes trained on his helmeted face. 

The trooper raises his head so his visor fixes you with a blank, impersonal stare. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you say. A groan slips from your throat as you stand, pain flaring in your tailbone, but you wave away the concerned way the trooper takes a step forward. “I’m fine, just took me by surprise.”

“She’s normally well-behaved,” he says. “I don’t know what got into her.”

Chuckling as you rub your sore coccyx, you shrug. “Whatever it is, I promise I’m not carrying anything illegal.”

“I should hope not,” he says, “otherwise I’d have to arrest you.”

Your laugh turns awkward. “It might just be the massiff treats in my pocket.”

“The—what? Why do you have that?” The tone of his voice is incredulous and suspicious, like he’s never met someone else who carries the specially formulated treats.

“I work at an animal rescue,” you explain.

“Right,” he says. “Understood.”

Silence slithers between the two of you for a long, uncomfortable moment. Your skin prickles where you imagine the trooper’s gaze to be trailing over you. 

You clear your throat. “Right. Yes. Well, I should—”

“Of course. I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright,” you assure. Plucking your bag from where it fell from your grasp, you give the trooper a little wave, then glance down at the massiff. Fishing a now-smushed treat from your pocket, you toss it to her. She snaps it out of the air with lightning-quick reflexes. “Keep an eye on her.”

“I will,” he says with a curt nod.

And that’s that. You gather the rest of your belongings and watch as the trooper leads the massiff away without a second glance. Sighing, you turn away, putting the incident from your mind as you hurry to work. 

--- 

A week later, standing in line at your favorite caf shop, you huddle beneath your umbrella as rain cascades from the sky. It’s your day off, the first one you’ve had in weeks, and of course the weather has to be shitty. You’re doing your best to not let it affect your mood. You don’t want to spend the day wallowing. But, you reflect with a sigh, moving with the line, that’s easier said than done.

The wind is cold as it whips through the narrow street, but the rain is colder where it mists onto your exposed face. Shivering, you turn your head away from the breeze—

And catch sight of a familiar duo. Motionless beneath the neighboring shop’s awning, stand Grizzer and her helmeted handler. You glance away, hoping your moment of ogling went unnoticed. By the time you reach the front of the line and order your usual hot drink and pastry, you think you’re in the clear. 

“Five credits,” the barista says. 

Fishing in your pocket for your money, you fail to notice the armored presence sidle up alongside you until he speaks. 

“Bill that to the Chancellor’s office,” he says.

Behind the counter, the barista pops her bubblegum and gives a shrug, while you gape at the trooper. 

“I— What—?”

“I never said sorry last week,” he says, like that explains everything. 

You frown. “You did, though.” 

“Did I?” He rubs the back of his neck, and the gesture makes your stomach squirm pleasantly for some reason. “Hah. Coulda swore I... Well. Grizzer didn’t apologize, now did she?” 

Arching an eyebrow, you fix him with a level, deadpan stare. It’s cute, actually, the way that he’s trying to be nice, and while his technique is certainly interesting, you’re unsure of his actual motivations. He fidgets under your gaze. Fiddling with the loop of Grizzer’s leash, he drops his head. 

“Thank you,” you finally say, putting him out of his misery. 

Cradling the umbrella in the crook of your arm, you accept your items from the barista with a grateful smile. The trooper hurries to get out of your way as you step out of line, not wanting to make yet another scene. At your hip, Grizzer nuzzles you, an intelligent light shining in her eyes.

“Oh, ah.” You fumble for a moment but you manage to get your pastry tucked beneath your arm so that you can lean down awkwardly to give Grizzer a pat on her head. “Hey, girl. I don’t have any treats on me today. You been good? Have you tackled any more strangers?” 

She pants happily and licks your hand. You snort.

You can feel the trooper’s gaze heavy on your face while you lavish affection on the massiff, and you suppress a shiver. While you’ve never really interacted with the clone troopers much, you’ve heard second- and third-hand accounts of how helpful the Coruscant Guard is in particular. Clearly, they train well not only in combat but also in manners, if your mystery man is any indication. 

“What’s your name?” you ask, still keeping your attention on Grizzer. 

“Hound,” he says, and his tone makes you think no one has ever asked him that before. No civilian, anyway. 

“Hound,” you repeat, a smile ghosting your lips. When you give him your name in return, he nods once. 

“I should let you get back to your day,” he says. 

You’re about to agree, about to make some lame joke about how he’s probably got more important duties than babysitting you, but something makes you pause. Maybe it’s the way that Grizzer leans her body against your leg, or maybe it’s the butterflies that continue to beat against the insides of your stomach after Hound’s display of shyness a few moments ago, but you find a giddy kind of warmth well up in your chest. 

So instead, you say, “Do you— I mean, are clones given time off?”

His helmet snaps to you; you have his full attention. “Why do you ask?” 

“I was just thinking that...” You chew at the inside of your cheek, suddenly bashful. “Oh, I dunno. I was hoping maybe I could buy you a drink to say thank you.” 

“You already said it.” His voice sounds reserved, cautious.

Throwing your own caution to the wind, cold as it is, you flutter your eyelashes, ignoring the way your heart pounds in your chest. “Sure, but I didn’t tell Grizzer, did I?”

He seems to get the hint. “Oh. Well. Yes. I mean, no. I mean— Kriff. Yes, clones get time off. I’m off duty tonight, around 7.” 

“Great.” You smile at him, wide and genuine, and he seems to relax. “I’ll meet you at Dex’s at 8, then.” 

---

Eight o’clock comes and goes. You’d arrived to Dex’s early to snag a good booth, not one that would give the impression that this is anything more than a light-hearted get-together with a man whose face you’ve never seen (because no, you don’t count the fact that they’re clones—they’re unique individuals), but also not one so close to the front door as to give the idea that you want an easy escape route.

The server droid had only waited so long before prompting you to order or get out. So you ordered. May as well make the most of the situation, right? At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself as you pick at your meal. Normally, Dex’s is one of your favorites, a guilty pleasure. But tonight, the comfort of the greasy food does little to quell the sting that pulses through you with each beat of your heart. 

Foolish. Stupid, silly, naive of you to hinge any expectations on this meeting. It had been a spur of the moment decision, certainly not one that you’d normally entertain for yourself, so why does his absence leave such a bitter taste in your mouth?

Not wanting to go back to your apartment, though, you sigh and spend a few hours scrolling on your datapad. Grateful you’d thought to bring it with you, you’re able to catch up on the latest holoforums you’re a part of. By the time the clock reads 10, you sigh, locking the device and leaving a handful of credits on the table for the server droid. 

At least the rain has let up. Where the ground is still slick and puddled with rainwater, you trudge through, splashing yourself. The sky remains heavy with pregnant clouds, oppressive in their proximity to the city. 

The bright neon lights of Dex’s sheds illumination for dozens of feet, and you’re still within that radius when a voice calls your name. You pause, frowning. Again, your name echoes to you, and when you turn, your eyes widen at the sight awaiting you.

Hound—because it can only be Hound, being the only clone trooper you’ve ever talked to—jogs through puddles, his heavy boots thudding on the permacrete ground. Gone is his armor; instead, he wears a tight-fitting black tee (is that a tattoo you see peeking out on the inside of his bicep?), muted green combat pants, and, draped over one arm, a black leather jacket. His dark curls coil nearly to his shoulders, bouncing with each step as he stumbles to a halt in front of you. Panting, he peers up at you through his eyelashes, hands on his knees. 

“Hound?” you ask, equal parts confused, bewildered, and hurt. 

“I’m so sorry, mesh’la,” he says. Without the filter of the helmet, his voice is deep and rich, with the barest hint of gruffness, an old engine turning over for the first time in years. “Huge security incident right before my shift ended. I couldn’t get away.” 

You wait until he catches his breath to respond. Once he stands up straight once more, his weathered and lined face pinched with concern, you sigh. 

“S’alright,” you say. 

He shakes his head. “Next time, I’ll need your comm so I can let you know.” 

“Next time?” you say, the barest hint of a grin tugging at your lips. 

“If you want there to be one,” he immediately says. “Kriff, I— I’m not good at this.”

Warmth surges through your fingertips at his admission. Shaking away the funk you’ve been in for the past few hours, you offer him your hand. “C’mon.” 

He blinks at your outstretched palm. “What?”

“Come on,” you say again. “I don’t think I can sit in Dex’s any more tonight, but I’ve got food at home if you’re hungry.” 

Tentatively, like he’s afraid you’ll explode into smoke when he touches you, he reaches for your hand. His skin is rough and hot against yours, his fingers calloused from years of training. Adding to the texture is a massive scar that travels from his palm all the way up to the outside of his forearm near his elbow; he must see the way your eyes widen when you spot it because he chuckles breathlessly. 

“I, uh, got that from a training accident,” he says. “Over-eager massiff puppy.”

Nodding, you can only tug him along with you as you lead the way back to your apartment. If he were anyone else, you’d never even consider bringing him home like this; but he’s a member of the Coruscant Guard. And besides, you’ve already thrown out any expectations for this to be a normal night. 

The air is humid and thick as you walk, both a promise and a reminder of rain. Your skin feels sticky. Next to you, Hound seems lost in thought, impervious and oblivious to the world around him. 

You nudge him gently with your shoulder. “Credit for your thoughts?” 

He blinks at you. “Sorry. Just... can I be honest with you?”

“Sure.” You keep your eyes facing forward, perplexed by his question. 

“I’m glad Grizzer clobbered you.” 

You laugh, loud and genuine, your head thrown back. And once you start, you can’t stop, the giggles bubbling up your chest without end. Tears dew at the corners of your eyes. Hound digs his heels in and stops walking, pulling you to a stop as well. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you gasp out. “That’s a very apt word for what she did. And not at all what I expected you to say.”

His wounded expression softens slightly. “Well, what did you expect?” 

Hiccuping, you shrug. “I dunno. Not that, though. I apologize for laughing. Please, continue.” 

He squints at you like he’s unsure of whether he should believe you, but then he sighs. “Alright. I was saying, that I’m glad she did that, because then I wouldn’t have been able to meet you.”

That sobers you up. Biting at your bottom lip, you smile, but say nothing, sensing there’s more he wants to say. 

“My vod’e—brothers, they teased the hell outta me for letting Grizzer get loose,” he says. He rubs the back of his neck, the same gesture that first endeared him to you earlier today. “But if it means that I got to buy someone as attractive as you their coffee, worth it.”

“Technically, you charged it to the Chancellor’s office,” you remark, smile turning wry. 

“Have you never heard the phrase ‘it’s the thought that counts’?” 

You snort. “Point taken.”

The two of you begin walking again, palms still pressed together. Against your skin, his heat is a comfort, holding at bay any chill the night air seems determined to impart. You sneak a glance at him. In the yellow glow of the streetlights, his tanned skin glows, ethereal, beautiful. 

“Hey,” you say, voice soft, “I’m glad I met you, too.”

The look he gives you makes your breath catch. Swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat, you tug him along, walking faster. Your apartment isn’t far from here, and you want as much time as you can afford getting to know this man.

--- 

You make him a quick dinner, nothing fancy, but he wolfs it down with voracity and gumption, a look of bliss scrawled over his features. As you lean your forearms on your kitchen counter, you can’t help the small spark of attraction that kindles to life deep in your belly. He looks so...at peace in your small apartment, tanned skin glowing in the incandescent lights caged above the kitchen island.

A thought occurs to you, and you startle into action. “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Hound hums his curiosity, mouth still full of food. 

“I promised you a thank-you drink,” you say over your shoulder. Rummaging through your cabinets, you snag two dusty shot glasses and a half-empty bottle of dark whiskey. You rinse the glasses, then, with only a few spilled drops, pour two shots. 

Hound places his empty bowl in the sink. He crooks one eyebrow at you. “When was the last time you drank this?” 

Squinting in thought, you pause with the small glass perched between your fingers. “I...honestly couldn’t tell you.” 

“Well,” he says, a warm, teasing smile ghosting over his features, “suppose I should feel honored.”

Clink. Knocking back the shot, you shudder at the burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat. It settles with comfortable heat in your stomach. Hound grimaces, sucking his teeth. 

“Kark,” he mutters. “I can see why you don’t drink it often.” 

Chuckling, you shake your head. “C’mon. I’ve got some sweets we can wash it down with.” 

You retrieve an unopened box of chocolates and rip open the packaging as you lead the way to the sofa. You settle into one corner of the plush couch, and Hound curls into the opposite corner; you perch the chocolates on the cushion between you. He looks...good, relaxing into your couch the way he is.

Emboldened by the strong alcohol now coursing in your system, you gesture to the sweets. “Wanna play a game?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“The rules.” 

You snort. “The rules are that you only get to eat a chocolate if you answer a question the other person asks. If you don’t answer, you don’t eat.”

Hound’s eyebrows twitch upward as if in curiosity. “What kinds of questions?” 

Shrugging, you gesture vaguely around the room. “Whatever you want to know.” 

“I already know what your job is and where you live,” he muses. “And what pastry you like. What else is there to know?”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to decide if he’s being facetious or if he genuinely just has no interest in learning more about you. Kriff, have you misread this entire situation? Your palms begin to sweat. 

Then his face breaks into a sly grin. “I’m kidding. C’mon. Ask me a question.”

“Dick,” you mutter, giving him a playful glance. Then, you sigh. “What’s your favorite color?” 

“Really, that’s what you want to know?” He rolls his eyes, giving an exaggerated head roll to go with it. “Of all the questions you could possibly ask—”

“It’s a perfectly acceptable question!” you interrupt, outraged. “Let’s see you ask something better then!”

He huffs. “Fine. What was the name of your first massiff?”

Suppressing an eye roll of your own, you sigh and pluck a chocolate from the box. “Spike.” 

“How original.” 

“I was a child!”

“So was I.” A grin plays at his lips. 

“Yeah? What did you name yours?” you challenge, then pop the chocolate into your mouth. 

He’s silent for a few seconds too long, his eyes looking everywhere but at you, and a victorious grin curls over your lips. 

“You named yours Spike, too, didn’t you?” 

“Maybe,” he grumbles.

Laughing, you nudge the box of chocolates towards him. “Technically, that was a question.”

He inspects the box. Once he chooses his first sweet and bites into it, his eyes slide shut and he groans in appreciation. Your core pleasantly lurches at the sound. 

And so the game goes. You swap stories about your youth: his training on Kamino, your upbringing in the Coruscanti upper levels. You tell him about your dreams for the future, and he muses, however briefly, on what the end of the war might bring for clones. At some point, the chocolate supply dwindles, until there’s only one left.

Mostly you talk about massiffs. His eyes light up when he recounts memories of Boomer, Tusk, and Spike, and his early days with Grizzer. His enthusiasm and passion for the creatures is infectious; you find yourself entranced by the direct gestures he uses, the sweep of his tongue over his lips when he pauses between sentences, the sparkle in his eye when he recalls a particularly feisty massiff. In your chest, your heart pounds. You’ve never been able to resist a man who is good at his job and passionate about it to boot.

“There’s that look again,” he says softly, drawing you out of your thoughts. 

Heat flushes up your neck to your face. “What look?” 

“The one you just gave me,” he says with a teasing smirk. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Which is, of course, a lie. If you had to guess, you were giving him bedroom eyes.

“That so?”

You hum in affirmation. 

His topaz gaze holds your own for a few moments longer than necessary. The uncomfortable, embarrassed heat in your face morphs into something more pleasant, more aroused. Letting your gaze wander, you catch the shallow breaths he takes, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips yet again, the fist he clenches along the back of the sofa. When you meet his eyes again, they’re darker. 

“Hound?” 

“Yes, mesh’la?” 

A shiver dances up your spine, his voice taking on a rumbling quality. “One more question for you.” 

“Ask away.” His gaze searches your features. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He blinks at you, full lips parting in surprise. Then, quicker than you can react, he snatches the very last chocolate in the box and stuffs it in his mouth. “Yesth,” he lisps around it.

Heart leaping up into your throat, you carefully set the now empty tray of sweets on the coffee table, then crawl across the couch cushions to him. He watches with half-lidded eyes and shifts to face you, stretching his legs beneath your form. Straddling his hips, you gently, uncertainly, rest your hands on his broad shoulders. His hands find home at your waist—not low enough to touch you anywhere you don’t want, but their solidness and warmth make you shudder with delight. 

“If that’s okay, I mean,” you breathe out. This close, you can see the flecks of darker brown in his golden eyes, and count the freckles on his nose. 

“Please,” he murmurs. 

Tilting your head down, you brush your lips against his, testing. A groan rumbles out of his chest; his arms slide around you in an enveloping embrace, hugging you closer. His mouth moves against yours softly yet no less intensely for it. You whimper, head spinning. 

When you pull away, you don’t move very far, Hound’s arms still wrapped solidly around you. He gives you a soft, timid smile—so unlike the gruff, sarcastic trooper who’s been trading quips with you all night. Rubbing your thumb over his cheek, you return the smile. 

Ignoring the surge of need in your lower belly, you sigh. “I need you to know I don’t normally do this.” 

“I believe you,” he says, tone as quiet as yours. “But I want you to.”

Searching his eyes, you find nothing there but sincerity and the beginnings of lust. Capturing his lips in another kiss, you give yourself to this strong, stolid, snarky man. He carries you to your room, undressing you reverently, lavishing your skin with kisses and praise. His hands are everywhere, grabbing, squeezing, feeling you; in return, your own hands roam his toned body, delighting in the rippling muscle beneath his skin. 

And when he slides home within you, you both sigh, fingers twined together. He draws you, slow and languid and breathless, to the edge again and again, murmuring sweet praises in your ear.

After, pressed to his sweaty skin, chest heaving with exertion, you kiss each of his fingertips. Under your ear, his heart beats loud and steady; slowly, its rate lowers as you both unwind. He trails his hand over the expanse of your back. Rubbing in methodical strokes, his touch lulls you to the brink of sleep. 

You startle yourself awake. “Hound?” 

“Yes, mesh’la?” he murmurs. 

“Remind me to give Grizzer extra treats,” you say, voice thick with sleep. 

He chuckles, the sound rumbly and smoky beneath your ear. “I will, mesh’la. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Mmkay.” Yawning, you curl tighter against his side, and drift to sleep, your dreams filled with playful massiff pups and Hound, the steadfast trainer.

---

Mando'a: 

Ke'mot - "halt!" (used as 'heel' for Grizzer)

Gev - Stop it! Pack it in! (more severe a command than ke’mot for Grizzer)

[lunaraindrop]

I love prompt things!

How about the word...twirl? :)

Oooo! A good one! Here you go! A bit of Wayne Munson/Claudia Henderson thrown in there too!

‐----‐--------------------

In the short six months after the "earthquake" that rocked Hawkins to its core, many strange things had happened. Some bad things, yes. But some good too.

In all of the chaos with Eddie and Max in the hospital, Wayne Munson and Claudia Henderson met. To say that the two adults got along was... a huge understatement!

At first glance, Steve didn't really see much of a resemblance between nephew and uncle. Besides the obvious, Hair vs. no Hair, Wayne was shorter than his nephew. He also lacked the rich, warm brown eyes that Steve was starting to become addicted to. Wayne's were what Steve thought at a cool blue. His hands were stubby and naked, where Eddie's fingers were all long, wiggly tendons and metal rings.

All of those thoughts went out the fucking window the minute Steve witnessed Wayne meeting Claudia.

The woman went into that hospital with a mission. After hearing Dustin talk about how Wayne had barely left Eddie's side in days, Claudia Henderson bustled into the room like only a mother of Dustin Henderson could, handed a bemused Wayne a cup of coffee and a club sandwich in Reynolds Wrap, and tutted at him that he would be no help to Eddie if he didn't take care of himself. (Steve...may have got a similar speech...)

Instead of the man being offended...well, you would think Claudia handed Wayne the moon.

Once Wayne, and subsequently Eddie's jaws were picked up off the floor, Wayne opened up.

While it was quieter, more subtle, Wayne Munson flirting greatly resembled the cow-eyed, cute quipped, touchy-feely dance Eddie did around Steve. (Steve, very observant thank-you-very-much, noticed this. Feeling the flutter of something warm and cautiously hopeful, Steve asked Robin later, "Hey, do you think Eddie's been flirting with me?" Robin sputtered and fell out of her chair)

After just talking to the woman for a second time, a besotted Wayne swore to his nephew in his hospital bed, "I'm gonna marry that woman."

Well, that was only going to happen *after* Steve hints that Claudia has to ask the man out first. Apparently, Munson men fall in love hard, fall fast, and stay in love like a possessive, deranged swan. They just...have an awkward time going from love declarations to actually asking someone out.

This was confirmed by Eddie. They were once again in his hospital room. Eddie was getting close to being released, but still had to stay until his wounds healed over a little better. Steve, hating the idea of Eddie being alone while Wayne had to go to work, would hang out with him in between work shifts and volunteering at the school. This meant he was often sleeping over on the pullout cot. It was one of those mornings when he slept over in the hospital that it came up. Since it seemed like Steve and Wayne were trading Eddie shifts, Claudia was bringing them both clean clothes and something to eat. He and Eddie witnessed the exchange, where hands lingered just a bit longer than necessary on the work clothes she so nicely washed. Instead of Wayne yaki g his chances, he called her "Dollface" and "Sweetheart" before rushing to get ready to leave. Steve saw the glimmer of confused disappointment in her eyes.

Steve fully understood that feeling.

Later, Steve found himself questioning Eddie on why Wayne was like that. How the time before he gave Claudia his jacket in the chilly hospital, only to make an excuse to zip out that Eddie needed more Jello.

Eddie hates Jello. Calls it a "Gelatinous Cube" and hisses at it anytime some comes near. Steve finds it endearing funny.

"So, your uncle goes on and on about liking Dustin's mom, but flakes out when he has a chance to ask her out. What gives, man?"

Averting his eyes, Eddie shrugged from eating his chocolate pudding (that Steve smuggled in for him). "What can I say? Munson men feel deeply, but are chicken shit about rejection. We just bat our eyes and stare, hoping the one we love gets a hint and proposes first."

"You mean asks out first."

"I know what I said, Big Boy."

Steve knew he needed to leave and take Dustin (who was with Max in the other room Steve frequented) home to his mom. He *also* knew he had to have a little chat with said mom.

But Eddie had him thinking.

After their goodbyes, as Steve stood at the threshold of the door, he mustered up the courage to turn around.

"You know, Eddie. You bat your eyes at me. Like, all the time."

Eddie dropped his spoon, beautiful cow-eyes wide. "Uh..."

Steve crosses his arms, and leaned a little cockily against the door frame. "And you stare."

Eddie pulled a piece of hair in front of his face, voice going up a higher octave. "Would we reeeeally call it staring? I thought of it more practicing telepathy."

Feeling giddy and so, so in love, Steve sauntered back in.

"You're not a mind reader, and I'm not El. If you want me to ask you out, you gotta give me a better signal."

Eddie went from looking panicked to impishly intrigued. "You'd be up for that? What kind of signals are we talking about? And what outcome should I expect? You know, hypothetically."

Steve shrugged, trying for casually cool and not like his heart was going to jump out of his chest and tackle Eddie back into the bed. "I dunno, like twirl your hair? Bite you lip? Or, I don't know, say 'Hey Steve, I would really like to get to go on our first date soon' to name a few!"

Eddie's brow furrowed. "And would there be a date?"

Steve walked back in and sat on the edge of Eddie's bed, softly petting at Eddie's calf. "Oh, there would be LOTS of dates. That one would just be the one to get the ball rolling. Throw me a bone here. Hypothetically, of course. "

Tilting his head, Eddie eyed Steve and twirled a piece of his hair.

Steve held in a gasp.

"I see what you're getting at, Stevie-Boy."

Looking away, Eddie bit his lip.

"But I'm stuck in this here hospital bed. If I said, 'Date me now, you beautiful bastard!', where wouldwe go? The cafeteria?"

Steve propped himself above Eddie, hand braced against the wall behind Eddie's head.

"Hypothetically?"

"Of course."

Steve reached over to twirl a curl of Eddie’s hair. He learned closer, almost nose to nose.

"Hypothetically speaking, we could be dating for months before we even go on a single date. Busy lives, you know."

Eddie, trying and failing to look serious, canted his nose to rub against Steve's.

"That sounds an awful like proposing to be boyfriends, Sweetheart."

Switching from looking into his eyes to his lips, Steve breeched the hairsbreadth of space, kissing the supple lips he had been dreaming about, before giving Eddie's bottom lip a little nibble.

"Ha. I guess you have it right. What do you say? Want to give it a go?"

Eddie threaded his fingers into Steve hair.

"Boyfriends?"

"Yes."

"Hypothetically?"

"Hell no."

"Good."

Dustin found them ten minutes later, making out on Eddie's hospital bed.

The little shit wasn't even mad or traumatized.

He just demanded that Steve figure out how to get his mom and Wayne to figure their shit out.

Turns out all Claudia had to do was the hair twirl before Wayne caved.

[angels--trumpet]

Milky Comfort

Hi, another goopy handful of wiggly worms for you 🫵 my followers

Cw: 2714, lactation, A/O/B

Not as NSFW as you proably think it's gonna be

Yuji also was a bit of a rebellious kid, well not rebellious he wasn't doing any of this to get under people's skin he just did whatever his curiosity took him, and if that led him into abandoned buildings with friends, Bullies that need a good knock on the skull to get there shit together, or in a bar/club/parlor that he really wasn't old enough to get into, then yeah.

Yuji was one of those omegas that could lactate without pregnancy, it was a bit embarrassing, honestly, so he always ended up just using loose hoodies and clothing for the max amount of comfort. In case he starts dripping and all that 

He was just curious and having fun.

The fun of going out like this was always because of the possibility of getting caught, but it wasn't like he actually wanted to be caught! 

So on one of the many nights, he was out with a random group of classmates from his 3rd hour class, they get caught, all of them leaving yuji behind. Now usally Yuji would have cleared the distance of a football field in under a minute, but at the current moment, his chest decided its a great time to leak causing a sudden pain to spike on his sensitive chest and forcing him to try and hide among the crowd of customers.

The man in front of Yuji turned around enough to look at him, elbow resting on the counter edge and chin in hand with a smug little smirk on his face.

In his rush to hide away, he decided to sit right behind the biggest man he's ever seen using his body like a shield to hide himself while the security chaced after the teenagers that ran outside leaving the parlor with chuckling patrons that soon ebbed away.

He wore a blindfold made from bandages, but it felt like the man could see Yuji anyway.

It's creepy but also kinda cool? 

"Let me feed off you and I won't tell anyone you were a bad boy today"

Maybe he should of just let himself get caught but honestly curiosity got the best of him so that's how he ended up here.

He should be scared, but honestly, he wasn't all that afraid of the guy. Even if he was freaky tall and freaky muscular for a dude that was supposed to look like slender man.

In a hotel room far away from the smoke and flowing booze with a man whose arms felt a LOT thicker and stronger than how they looked wrapped around his waist And a warm tongue lapping away at his nipple easing the milk out gently before he started really feeding. And feed he did easing the presure in Yuji chest within an hour, honestly, it was nice and Yuji couldn't help the purr that eased out of him and got an answering muffled rumbling Purr in response back. When Yuji left that night he was left with the memory of how nice it was to do that but pushed it in the back of his head for later. Then he meets the guy again, almost like he was looking for yuji standing at his door while his grandfather was out.

So Yuji let's him in and let's him feed again since Yuji makes a bit too much milk and it honestly hurts if he doesn't get rid of it somehow so why not let some random guy drink it instead of letting it go to waste? 

And that's how he got to know Gojo.

But there was something bothering Gojo, Yuji can feel it like he had a dark cloud over his head that he hides with a big goofy smile.

The man was kind of weird and had a bit of an edge to him like he was covering something up but he was fun to be around and paid Yuji good money to let him drink off him so Yuji didn't push to ask.

Body curled on his side, pressed tight around Yuji like he was a comfort he couldn't live without, lips wrapped around his nipple tight to not let a single drop go to waste nosing up into the soft breast with a nearly slacked face.

It shows whenever he feeds though.

Tension all gone just a softness that doesn't show when Gojo isn't feeding.

Yuji was confused but never pushed. 

It's a shame cause the guy was seriously pretty. Yuji had no idea what type Gojo was, there was just no scent what so ever coming off the man and it didn't look like he wore scent blockers from the times Yuji snuck a peak under his collar and sleeves. Maybe he just never got a designation? It's not impossible, just super rare. Then again the man can purr so maybe he was an omega with no scent? 

Gojo became very generous when his grandfather got sick, leaving an extra tip, sending over food, telling Yuij to eat more fruits to improve the sweetness of the milk, even sending him gifts.

He spent an entire year doing this with Gojo, it was good money like a part-time job except the pay was over what the manager got at any retail store.

Like a courting alpha.

Yuji rolled with it, he enjoyed the mans company he even liked there little dates and meet ups, he especially loved feeding days because it eassed the pressure in his chest and he got to have someone physically close in such a domestic position it soothed his inner omega to do it.

When Grandfather passes away Yuji wasnt alone when it happens. Gojo is right beside him, pulling Yuji close and letting him cry even if he knows his grandfather would yell at him for it. A little cry won't hurt, just a minute.

They are found like that by Megumi, Gojo's student who demands something from him and tells Yuji his friends will parish if he because of it.

And for the first time ever he smells Gojo, such a nice scent that he cuddles up close nose pressed right into the mans chest to take in the scent, an alpha after all.

Yuji, of course, tries to lead the way, but gojo just takes over, grabbing Megumi arm and warping them right to Yujis school. No time to gasp at how cool it is because Gojo and Megumi are gone again.

Yuji accepts, feeling like he already bonded too much with Gojo now to let him disappear.

In the end, the thing they searched for was retrieved and Megumi and his friends were only mildly injured. Since seeing this happen and the situation with his grandfather leaving him all alone Gojo decides to ask Yuji if he would like to come with him.

Now attending a new school and visiting Gojo and his students to drop off lunches and treats for their hard work, they risk their lives every day after all, it was the least Yuji could do and for Gojo he gets a special treat just for him.

Extra bits!

They do get married a few years later and Yuji is seen as bumpkin by the higher-ups and the Gojo clan, but he's an omega and can give Gojo a heir so they don't say it to his face mainly because Gojo looks at them a bit scary when they say anything at all like that

Yuji ends up living with Gojo and becoming his omega once he graduates

Yuji still becomes good friends with Megumi and Nobara and sometimes helps them because of his crazy strength. He thinks about joining them, but Gojo puts a very hard no to it.

Yuji works in medical with Shoko :>

[i-like-yoongi-a-latte]

The year is coming to its end so it's time for my silly little love letter post 💕 I hope this year has been good for you, or if it wasn't, I'm sending hugs bc same, but hey we made it through! I hope next year brings you kindness, good energy, rest and overall happiness 🥰

Happy New Year lovelies!!

These are not in any order, you're all very important to my tumblr experience <3

♥ @taetaestykookie Marrissa my new bestie to yell about BTS with!!! I love following your bias crisis and making your friends/family members become fans! Even though you live far away and timezones suck I'm so happy to be able to randomly send you stuff in like three different apps all about the same thing... I wish cute Tata/Cooky stuff finds their way to you! Thank you for being my friend, I appreciate you 💝

♥ @washyourdamnhands Kinga, the person who's like a warm comforting hug! Always sending me nice videos and making me smile, I adore you 💕

♥ @asgh0sts Danny, I loooove seeing Exo on my dash and that's because of you, also seeing old Shinee photos makes me cry (but in a good way you know). You also gave me good advice once and I felt so happy!! I've also been thinking about Valentine's Day cards already, and I've been meaning to ask you if you want to receive one from me, so let's say this acts like a question for you and a reminder for me hehe. Thank you for being my friend!! 🧡

♥ @danhalen A person who makes me smile, Reny! The thought of you makes me warm and giggly, I really love to send cards to you (I hope the card that's on its way comes home to you safely!!) and I really appreciate you for being my friend!! 💘

♥ @sepastian-ahoey the Sepe to my Teukka, or should I say a demon for making me get new interests.......... I'm feeling like I'll be following the F1 more next year... We also have a Max document date already planned so I'm waiting for that!!! Thank you for being my friend and tolerating all the rants about kpop that you don't know anything about but still kinda do, I promise to listen to your rants in the future too 💞

♥ @firefighter-diaz oh the broken blorbos.... The reason why I listened to Taylor's new album is this person right here!!!! Also I adore you, sending me postcards from cool places and all 🥺 also helping me with my silly questions and making me feel happier and also making me feel like my jokes are funny! remember hun, coaches don't play!! and!!! I will always listen if you have something on your mind ❣️

♥ @chanstopher Dreamy!! The reason I became even more obsessed with Chris's nose!!! As a nose enthusiast™ this was very nice. I could probably write essays about your talents, but like even if we don't talk much here, I really really really appreciate you. You're so kind and lovely, your art is amazing, you make gifs super fast and they're so pretty every time, and when you show the original coloring vs yours I'm always like h o w. Also I'm still giggling about your kind comment to my Leebit <3333 annnd I love to read your little posts about Chan's room when I can't watch it myself! and I also remember saying I'd show you my paintings but I haven't painted - I drew a horse though - but I'll try to remember it when I paint hehe. I wish all the best for you, may Chris bless us you with cute selfies that show his adorable nose 🥰

♥ @ambivartence Siyuan, the lovely person with who I can have fun ask game answers with! How do I even start. Every time I see your art I smile along the wiggly lines, I try to find little hearts and when I do I feel so warm!! Your art is so warm, I can't explain. Also your Seonghwa and Hongjoong live rent-free in my head, and it's also one reason I should get into Ateez more! You're so kind and lovely and I love to read your tags on posts!! I adore you 💝

♥ next I wanna say thanks to the gc, @fangirlinglikealoon & @heiskasmiro, you make me smile so much you have no idea!! No matter what app we're using to communicate, it always feels so nice to see your names appear in my notifications! I appreciate you so much, just know that 💘💘

annnnd here are some other lovely people that make me smile just by seeing their urls <33

♥ @reedskz ♥ @suklaakuppikakku ♥ @trashkingdom ♥ @joel-farabee ♥ @juhollamago ♥ @diazactually ♥ @yjbg ♥ @finnishhockeyelf ♥ @lily-blue-blue-lily ♥ @bortuzzzzin ♥ @thewestishharpooners ♥ @thosedaysthatwill ♥

[auroralightsthesky]

Mary! my love! all i’m thinking about right now is Miles & his sensitive nipples 😵‍💫

how when you ride him, your mouth immediately latches onto his chest. your warm wet tongue swirls onto the dusty pink nub & lightly suckles on it, causing Miles to let out breathy high pitched whimpers & whines at the sudden tickly assault. his whole body shudders, but he pulls your head closer to him and revels in the feeling of your sweet sweet mouth on his flesh.🫠

how when you two take baths together & Miles happens to be sitting in front of you, because he likes to lean back & experience some skin to skin contact :,) he starts to get particularly fidgety when you grab a wash cloth, squirt some soap onto it & wash his chest. you make sure to take some extra time working the skin around his nipples, causing his body to do a little wiggle & his head to be thrown back against your shoulder, while fits of giggles fall from his lips.

how when the two of you are just chilling in bed or on the couch, you’ll randomly slip your hands under Miles’ shirt & start rubbing all along his belly & up to his chest. your hand swipes gently over a pinky nub, causing Miles to let out a long drawn out sigh & he usually ends up burying his blushy little face into the crook of your neck at the sensation. sometimes to tease him even further you’ll flick his nipple, making it become hardened in its wake, which usually turns Miles on to no end & he’ll pounce on you, getting you back for turning him into a flushed out mess🤭

*bonus* just picturing your hands being cold one day & you’re chasing Miles around the house, so that you can stick your hands up his shirt & have him shutter under your frosty touch.

Mary i know this wasn’t super long or anything special, but i just had to leave this in your box because it’s something i couldn’t stop thinking about🫠 i’m on a bit of a Miles kick recently, so i hope you enjoyed this 💗

MEGHAN!!!! YOU OWE ME FOUR NEW PAIRS OF UNDERWEAR!!!!! (Nah I'm just kidding nobody owes me shit, lol).

Oh my GOD THOUGH!!!!! YES!!! YES AND DOUBLE YES!!!!!!

Baby definitely has some very, very sensitive nips, he just can't help it but oh does he fucking love it!!!!!! I can literally hear him whimpering and moaning the minute you start going at it and it drives him absolutely batty (lol).

"That's it.......that's it sweet girl, c'mon, c'mon now, latch onto me......oh there we go.....there we go honey......oh......feels so good," he softly coos as you lightly swirl your tongue over the stiffening pink bud.

Oooh and taking a bath together with Miles is just uuuugh *chef's kiss!*.

I have a feeling Miles is an Irish Spring guy through and through because he loves the way it smells and feels on his body. I know that after long days of being out in the field with his dad and the hands, Miles is probably exhausted but absolutely loves the skin-to-skin contact no matter what. And just the thought of him getting all wiggly and fidgety is just so cute!!!! I have a feeling that when you tickle the skin around his nips, his face gets all scrunkly and he sticks his tongue out (lol).

Oooooh maybe it's one of those days where neither of you really wanna get outta bed so you're just chillin there and you decide to be a sneaky little shit just to see what'll happen. You and Miles are both a giggling mess because his nips are so hard now that you can kinda see them poking through his shirt. He pulls you up to his level but very quickly it becomes apparent what you want and he's more than happy to oblige (lol).

"Now, now sweetheart," he coos before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. "Give me a minute. I know what you want but you need to be patient."

The times you catch him off guard though are a different story. I agree 100% that if he doesn't suspect it, he'll pounce right on you and pin you on the couch.

"Feelin a little naughty this evening sweetpea?" he purrs before attacking your neck. "Daddy can take care of that real quick"

Oh my God that last one though!!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣 Running after Miles with your cold hands and you're both screeching and squealing with laughter as you try and put your cold hands on him!!!!

"No! Wait!! Sweetpea......dearest, darling wifey of mine! What are you doing....? Wait......no, no, no, no, not the cold hands......NOT THE COLD HANDS!!!! AAAAGH!!!!! MY NIPPLES ARE HARD!!!"

Meggy thank you so much for this, this was seriously hotter than the hinges of hell and I enjoyed reading every little bit of it. Please, don't hesitate to drop something in the ask box ever, I love reading your thoughts/thots just as much as you do mine. I'm on a Miles Miller kick myself and this was an absolute joy to read 🥰🥰🥰🥰🤗🤗🤗🤗

[himbos-hotline]

Mouse

What are your top 5 comfort Items

first of all, music! music is something so special to me since i think it truly is a gift. someone found a wiggly line of air they liked and went "I should share this with the world" and then they do! and people listen to it and send it to family and friends, we dance and have emotions because wiggly air exists...isnt it beautiful how our inate desire is to create and share love in our creations?

sitting outside is another big comfort. even if its just late at night sitting with my legs out my bedroom window. the stillness of earth versus the loudness and static of myself. I feel small and thats sometimes all you need. to feel small like youre crawling into your parents bed after a nightmare; their arms warm and safe. the night cosnumes you the way safety does and I like that

Matty has a stuffed shark that he really loves and he pratically makes sure we sleep with it everynight. its kinda bent outta shape now and his finn sags a little but hes loved. hes loved and changed and its comforting

[missamyrisa2]

I know this is odd but here goes .. .. I grew up with a couple slightly different methods of tickling one of which was scratching soles. You know like your scratching an itch? A little firmly too! Proper long scratching up and down from heels to toes and back again repeatedly. I know this sounds weird but trust me it’s unbearably ticklish and always worked on all my friends. Now it’s still one of my go to moves. has anyone ever heard of this or tried or experienced it? I feel its a bit niche

So I never got into that as a tickly sensation until I had a session where my tickler was using a metal back scratcher. I was a little leery that it wouldn't tickle but much to my surprise the bite of the scratch on my soles was massively tickly. Her technique was to place the scratchy part right under my pinky toe, on that fleshy spot of sensitivity, rest it there for a moment, and make a long diagonal swipe down, then back up at a different angle to rake a new line, and back down on a similar modification. I could map out exactly where that wicked tool scratched across my sole because that is an etched in stone tickle memory for me ~ mmmh! I'm giggly wiggly toe crunchy just thinking about it! She would pause occasionally too, just lightly tapping the scratcher at the starting point before smirking and going back for more ~ unless it was to take a break and apply another round of baby oil or lightly slap my soles with the backside of the scratcher.

In short yes~~ I know the sensation well now, and as I do, I take every tickle technique used on me and add it to my collective with my own spice~ When I want to get scratchy scratchy I like to ramp up in a line of sensations. You know what makeup tool doesn't get enough love? The mascara wand. You have to get one with longer spikes, but they can be such a neat little kindling tool, spinning in the valley under the toes, twirling between, maybe even dipping into the navel. It's like the gateway scratcher. From there a scalp massager does wonders, all those little metal arms jingling and giving nubby touches that are like the scratchies to follow, but gentle ~ it warms up the ticklish nerves on the soles and sides and belly quite well. From there, I'll bring out the bamboo paddle brush. Again, not quite scratching yet but we're getting there. Now it's a collective of nubs all working in a line to warm up the skin and get the giggles flowing with ample pressure. I love to hold a big toe and just work my hairbrush merrily while humming a melody mimicking your laughs ~<3

The oil has to come next ~ so giggly, and wiggly ~ you think it's a nice break, especially when I start massaging the slippery solution onto your soles and over your midsection in loving rubs with warm smiles. But there's a tiny grin forming on the corner of my mouth~ my cheek is receding to bare the intent. I'll wait until you're nice and relaxed, enjoying my gentle touches, and that's when my fingers will spring up and my nails will apply full force with scratchies on your soles. "Yeahhhh that's what I thought~!" I'll tease, digging my nails under the toes, raking downwards with spidering scribbles all around. Good thing your tickle spots were all properly mapped out and warmed up ahead of time~ why, even the slightest scratchy tickle will be a devastating attack~ especially when I load up my off-hand (left handed ticklers for life!) with the spikey shampoo brush, which equips right to my fingers so nicely and adds a wonderful new sensation to the mix. 

And be ready ~ because I’m not stopping at pinkening up those soles ~ ooh yes, we’re going to rosy up that belly next. The best part is that because you’re so giggly, and because I can just pinch at your sides and hips to make you wiggle more, I can simply hold my hairbrush to your tummy and let you do alll the work getting that skin so cutely blushy. Ooh, but that’s not all I’ll do, because there’s one scratchy tickle I haven’t dropped yet, and I always save it for last. With a primal tickly grin, my teeth are bared, and making a course for your tender belly. The tickle bite takes finesse ~ but I’ve had plenty of practice on helpless adorable tummies. My lips probe and glide around looking for that sweet spot, and when they do a muah marks the target, and my teeth begin grazing back and forth ~ just drawing out all that lovely sensation for you~ 

Don’t fret ~ because I’m not stopping there either ~ because now I have a hunger for your tickle spots anew, and my tickle bites are coming right for those soles next. You’ll be calling me tickle mommy all night when I hold your toes back and give each one a little love bite ~<3

[saving-word-crawls]

Black Friday Musical Crawl

By: IslaGrace

Welcome to the Black Friday Musical Crawl! If you haven’t seen my The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals crawl yet, and want to do that one before the sequel/prequel/alternate dimension, you can do so here! 6

(saving-word-crawls note: It's the last post!)

You should end up with around 7000 words by the end of this crawl. Hope you enjoy it! Also, let me know if I should make a couple more Starkid/Tin Can Bros crawls! I’m thinking of writing ones for Twisted and Spies are Forever!

PROLOGUE Welcome to Starkid’s spookiest musical! It’s so dark that it warrants its own prologue which, though short, is very creepy. Write for five minutes (the number of ticks of the clock there are before the music kicks in) to get you warmed up for the straight bops that are coming your way.

TICKLE-ME WIGGLY JINGLE Ahoy there, boys and girls! You know that you need a Tickle-Me Wiggly! He’s a wiggly wig and a snuggle poo! He wuvs you! He’s laundry safe! And he’s a steal for only $49.95! Sprint to the nearest 500 whilst you desperately try to save up for a Tickle-Me Wiggly doll! Wiggle your way through life!

WHAT TIM WANTS Tom will do anything for Tim. After all, he’s his son. Does your protagonist have a child in their life that they need to protect? How about a best friend, a sibling, or other loved one? What’s their name? Count up the number of letters in their name and write for that amount of minutes!

CALIFORM.I.A We get it, Ethan. You’re a good speller! Don’t worry about spelling, punctuation, or any of the rubbish that Ethan cares about. Attempt a fifty headed hydra as you hype yourself up for your escape to California!

WHAT DO YOU SAY? Is that Becky Barnes? And Tom Houston? Get ready for an intense gossip with the citizens of Hatchetfield and write three hundred words. If you, like Tom and Becky, can’t think of what to say and you’re experiencing a bout of writer’s block, try to incorporate a scene with a gossip chain like the one in the queue for ToyZone.

OUR DOORS ARE OPEN Welcome to ToyZone! We know that you want a Tickle-Me Wiggly, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to pay up first. Sprint for fifteen minutes as Frank sings about all the money he’s about to get. These words are weighing his pants down!

FEAST OR FAMINE The bidding war for a Tickle-Me Wiggly has suddenly gotten very brutal. Sprint for twice the length of the song (6 minutes) to find out if you got one! If you wrote less than 250 words, chaos reigns! You don’t manage to get your hands on a Wiggly! Write another 250 as you sob uncontrollably. If you wrote more than 250 words, take what you want, return what you get! Well done, you got a Wiggly! Write 100 words as you celebrate and plan what you’re going to do with your new fwendy wend.

MONSTERS AND MEN General McNamara is back! Thank God, he is exactly what this world needs to defeat the dark force that Howie Goodman has come to know as Wiggly. Write until the next mention of your story’s main villain (or villainous situation!)

DECK THE HALLS (OF NORTHVILLE HIGH SCHOOL) Okay, this is kind of a good movie… Take a ten minute break and grab a snack as you watch Santa Claus is Going to High School at the movie theatre!

TAKE ME BACK Take me back in time… to when I knew what was going on in this draft. Write two hundred words as Becky and Tom figure out their feelings for each other.

ADORE ME You will destroy everything, and then you will destroy everything. Keep writing! Go for a ten minute word war as you try your best to resist against Linda Munroe and her cult, sorry, exciting new religion.

DO YOU WANT TO PLAY? Write 150 words as you try to hide from Becky and Tom… Seriously? I thought we liked these guys two songs ago?

MADE IN AMERICA This is a FULL bop. I genuinely can’t expect you to write through this song. Have a dance break

BLACK FRIDAY You’ve been caught by Sherman and he’s about to kill you. Write for fifteen minutes as you contemplate your life and what (or who) you’re going to leave behind.

MONSTERS AND MEN (REPRISE) Reach into the black and white! You must manifest these words into your reality! Take part in a three digit challenge as you escape from Sherman!

IF I FAIL YOU This doll is kinda ugly! Attempt a 1k30min as you finally come out from Wiggly’s spell. If you succeed, congratulations! Grab a drink (check for goo first!) and celebrate! If you fail, get ready for a punishment that won’t match the crime. Keep writing until you hit the nearest thousand.

WIGGLE Get ready to defeat Linda and Wiggly and their group of worshipping shoppers. Participate in a ten minute word war and try to ignore the uncomfortable moans!

WHAT IF TOMORROW COMES? Do you all see what I see? It’s you, closer to finishing your novel! Congratulations, but it’s not over yet. Quick! Sprint to 500 words before that… bang happens.

[togoldlilya]

Snow is cold, don't forget to dress warmly!

waking up that morning the couple was greeted with the lovely sight of snow outside their window, the first of the season.

"ahhh toge look!! it's snowing! lets go out and play, we can even drag yuuta with us!" sayaka excitedly exclaims, bounding over to pull a still half asleep toge out of bed.

"hmm? tsuna mayo?" the boy mumbles, not quite sure that he's still not just dreaming. the warm body of sayaka on top of him just makes him even sleepier. without giving her a chance to do anything he, with what seems likes incredible speed, slips his arms around her waist and pulls her down against him, humming in content as her body lands on his.

"haha, toge honey, i know, but we still have to get up, class is soon." sayaka calmly explains, fingers easily finding his hair, twisting it into little points. he just whines and tightens his grip. "togeeeeee if you get up now, ill help you prank the first years later, theres a loooooot of snow out there to use" she tries to entice him, tone low like shes telling him a secret.

"shake?" it seemed to have worked as he finally opens his eyes, squinting at her in fake suspicion.

"promise" holding out her pinkie he dosent hesitate to grab it with his own, pulling up to leave a quick peck on the intertwined fingers. in an instant, without any warning, shes suddenly shoved off of him to the floor as he flies across the room to the bathroom.

"SUJIKO TAKANA" is all shes left with as he slams the door shut behind him.

"HEY THATS NOT FAIR I WAS UP FIRST, WHY DO YOU GET THE SHOWER FIRST?" sayaka leaps up from the floor to complain about this obvious travesty. he just laughs in response causing her to sigh at his determination.

after about an hour, some yelling, and scuffling, the two are finally ready, well, almost. "hold still you wiggly dog, you need to wear a jacket its cold outside." sayaka snaps, frustrated with all this endless energy he abruptly has. finally getting a good grip on him she zips up his jacket, the tab booping his nose making him flinch cutely.

"tsuna mayo furikake!" after she finishes, he happily grabs her arm and drags her out of their room.

"you owe me lunch for pushing me out of bed you know" sayaka states as they fall into step beside each other in the hallway.

"sujiko... shake" he relents knowing he has no way out if it, making sayaka smile widely at him, so honestly it's still a win if you ask him.

[onesaltyerik]

For no reason whatsoever /gen I'm compiling a list of artstyle things that really make my brain happy. . Pastels: love me some pastel pinks and purples and mint greens! Taste so good in my brain! Like fresh strawberries and snow and gently sweet things! . Jewel tones: particularly orange, red, and green. Gimme that emerald and ruby pairings! And sunset golden oranges! Fuck yeah! . Wiggly line art with a thick brush: i don't know why, it makes my brain go "ooh yes! wiggly good!" . Sharp line art with varying thickness: Example being Bungo Stray Dogs anime, i don't know what it is about that particular artstyle, its just good. . Gravity defying hair/sashes/belts/scarves/ribbons/etc: yes. . Mono-duo chrome colour pallets: good shit good shit! especially if it's being used to highlight an intense emotion or an important feature! Like glowing eyes or a shocked expression or intense grief. . High contrast and complimentary colours: reds and greens or blues, blues and oranges or yellows, yellows and purples, pinks and greens or blues. I had a huge phase where I would only use a "one cool and two warm/one warm and two cool of complimentary or contrasting colours" to render my characters. Particularly for the sci-fi characters. Loved that.

[remushrts]

remus with a migraine!reader . . .

— pairing: remus lupin x gn!migraine!reader

— a/n: bear with me, i had migraines for the past two days so this is NOT proof read at all, and mostly written for comfort!!

— warnings: nothing, none, this is just heartwarming fluff!!

When Remus comes home to find all the lights out, he feels the worry setting on the pit of his stomach as his eyes scam the dark room, searching for signs of you. He sighs, the small streaks of moonlight that peeked through the blinds letting but a small streak of light shine upon your favourite blanket, displayed on the couch. Remus walked to it, eyes softening as they find a mess of hair splayed on the cushions just as the blanket ends.

"Hi, dove." He greets you softly, not knowing if you are awake and not wanting to disturb you much. "Headache?" He asks, gentle and so unspeakably soft, his fingers treading through your hair to pull the loose strands out of your face. You only grunt at him.

Remus has come to know you along the months, well enough to know the difference when you're awake to your episodes of sleep talking, well enough to know how to proceed when you have a headache. Right now, you're thankful for him. Whatever god is up there, definitely send him to you.

Remus picks the mug you left on the coffee table, your favourite one, that you and him painted on a pottery class, and you immediately got attached to, although it's wiggly and wouldn't be able to stand on its own if it wasn't fixed by the kind instructor of the class. Still, wiggly and all, you treasure it like it's made of gold and jewels. Remus finds it adorable. He runs his fingers on the glaze, a small house - your apartment, you explained later -, in a starry sky with a crescent moon, small red hearts floating around, and yours and Remus' initials craved on the other side, next to the handle, because you picked on the odd way he holds his mugs, and the letters are right below where his thumb goes.

He picks one of the soothing tea blends you purchased for him, lavender and lemon balm, and boils water on the stove the quietest he can. Then, he pours it over the sachet and picks a spoonful of honey, stirring it in. He picks up the bottle of painkillers and pops one out for you. It's a quiet ritual, and it takes roughly ten minutes. You barely notice when he's back.

"Baby, there's tea for you." He lets you know, placing the mug on the coaster you picked earlier, and holding the pill to your hand.

"Thank you." He hums in response, you can see when his lips tug upwards, the only thing your tired eyes manage to make out of him.

You're definitely, infinitely, grateful for Remus. You swallow the pill with a sip of the tea, making space for him to seat by his side. You don't say anything, he doesn't even try to get a light on, but he somehow knows, his body fitting besides yours as he pulls you closer, your head falling to his shoulder as he fixes the blanket over your lap.

He runs his fingers to your back, rubbing circles as you sip on your tea slowly. It's peaceful, quiet, and it's warm, in a way that makes you wonder if you could stay like this forever, just you and Remus, and forget the rest of the world.

[ech0wo]

So, this is a list of posts that really sum up why tickling feels so warm and soft and nice to me. Im pretty sure that I checked with everyone I put on this list to make sure they were ok with me putting a post of theirs here, and if I missed you, please DM me and let me know!!

I made this here compilation so I can put them all in my pinned post, but also so I can send this whole post to a few IRL friends of mine so I can share my funny little interest with them without feeling self-conscious.

please please please reblog this with your own additions or things you think are important and that I should add

one last thing. If I send this to you and you're one of my IRL friends, I'm sending it to you not only cuz I trust you but also because I might want more tickles irl, because its a safe thing for me that i love dearly, and I dunno how to ask for it, because a lot of people think it's weird or sexual or childish, but it's not for me.

Like cuddly tickles? Top tier. Tickle hugs?!?!?! I'll be a giggly melted goop in your arms and I'll thank you after,

Also also also! if anyone has any questions about the T-community (that's what this is called, the tickle community or the T-community)I I will answer all of them to the best of my abilities