#like yeah I would do it all over again that’s a trait of me despite the hardships I would do it all over again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hiskillingjar · 10 months

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What if? Fox was infatuated to unhealthy levels with MC, from the beginning (even before the kidnapping).

me when i flirt with an older man (he runs a human trafficking ring and has an anxious attachment style)

2000+ words, sfw, ren hana is a chubby chaser and no you will not change my mind

"Hey, what can I get for you?"

It was a cold day in December and he had been called to the office on a weekend due to a technical mishap from one of his staff the previous day. It was a day that he would have been annoyed, angry even, a day where he would have taken one step into the building and tore the head off the first person who dared speak to him.

But, for whatever reason, he always found his anger dissipated when he saw them.

The barista smiled, their soft, freckled cheeks dimpling with an expression that insinuated sincerity and sweetness, an innately trusting nature, traits so rare in Fox's profession, in the city that surrounded him, rare enough that he cherished and obsessed over them whenever he found them in someone.

He had been coming to this cafe every morning for weeks, not only because it was on the corner of his office in the financial district, a place close by where he could escape his moronic employees when he needed to, but because he found that he had to see their face to even feel slightly at ease on the more stressful days of work.

Just one look of their smile and hearing their voice was enough to settle him in an instant.

"Just a cup of coffee, please," Fox replied with a slight smile, jolted out of his train of thought, one of his ears twitching when they chuckled kindly.

"Well, yeah, I assumed," They said with another little chuckle, crooked teeth (so familiar, so sweet, wouldn't they look nice on the ground, scattered like pearls?) biting their lip to stop the chuckle from growing into a laugh. It was a quiet Saturday in the financial quarter, so they must have had time to banter with customers. "What kind?"

Fox smirked just a touch, one of his fangs hooking over his bottom lip.

He couldn't deny that he was a little curious about the young barista and what they were doing working in this part of the city (since, for one, they looked like they had a modicum of personality compared to everyone else who worked there).

They were a far cry from the kind of people he usually saw and interacted with on a day-to-day basis, soft when all he saw was hard, kind when all he saw was cruelty, and there was a certain, naive charm to them that Fox found almost magnetic.

He was always the obsessive type, falling in love with every pretty face who was nice to him, and years of therapy and unpacking his trauma never really stopped that obsession from blooming.

But what was the harm, really? What was so bad about a little crush and a few intrusive thoughts?

"Hmm…" He hummed thoughtfully, his tail idly wagging behind him. "Surprise me?"

"Adventurous. I like it." They chuckled again as they set to work on his drink. When they turned, it gave Fox a good opportunity to…assess their assets, his gaze scrutinous as he leaned against the counter, elbows up on the glass pastry display.

All things considered, their figure wasn't exactly remarkable, certainly not compared to the call girls and 'staff members' he was accustomed to working with. Average height (taller than him, but that wasn't hard), a heft to their hips and backside, a small (possibly bound) chest, and a constellation of acne scarring on their freckled cheeks…but he found himself drawn to them, regardless of all of that.

It had indeed been a cold day…but there was a certain warmth that he felt coming from the young barista that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Indeed, despite his violent intrusive thoughts, there was a part of him (buried beneath his hardened surface) that yearned for them.

He almost wanted to reach out and touch them, right then and there, the urge to simply embrace them, touch their skin, run his fingers along their cheek, dig his claws into them, pull their hair, break their jaw, make them bleed, make them cry, growing with every passing second.

But something stopped him, a sensible part of him that kept pulling him back from the brink of his obsession, his face remaining impassive as he continued to stare.

He probably looked like any normal, lecherous, older man, making advances on someone years younger than him. He could deal with that.

"You work around here?" They asked, making idle conversation as they steamed a jug of milk, a gust of steam fogging up their glasses.

"That I do," Fox replied with a nod, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he took in their form once again (they were cleaning their glasses with their shirt, making it ride up and expose the soft skin of their belly) and stood back from the counter, putting his hands in his pockets (adjusting his growing bulge). "Right around the corner, in fact. And you?" He asked curiously.

"I'm a student," They smiled, turning back towards him and putting their glasses back on. "Obviously. I mean, I'm a barista, that comes with the territory, right?" They laughed and Fox smiled, nodding again curtly. "I work the weekend shift when I can though, when it's nice and quiet."

"A student, huh?" Fox asked curiously, casually, raising a brow and running his tongue over one of his fangs, his ears tilting forward. His attention was torn between the barista's face as they spoke and the still-exposed flash of skin above the waistband of their jeans, a little fold of soft fat spilling over them. His eyes shone brightly as he continued to stare downwards. "What are you studying?" He asked, eyes quickly returning to their face so as not to look too obvious in his ogling.

"Criminal psychology," They replied, finishing up the coffee with a dusting of cinnamon and setting it on the counter in a to-go cup. They had him clocked as a businessman, then. "Postgrad."

"Criminal psychology?" Fox repeated, accepting the offered drink as he took the cup and raised it to his nose, inhaling the aroma as he spoke. "I'm curious, what sort of career are you hoping to move into with that?" He asked, tilting his head, his tail still wagging idly. "Not just after university, but after all of it?"

"I wanna work in rehabilitation," They said, tilting their own head and giving him a considered look, their dark eyes flitting from his well-groomed fox ears (beast-kin in the wild were still relatively rare, after all) and down his handsome face and his suit, admiring him casually, as any person did (and they often did). "And help people get back on their feet after prison."

"Rehabilitation, eh? Helping people get back on their feet…" Fox repeated their words again with a thoughtful look on his face, his wrinkles looking a little more pronounced as he thought over what they said. He took a sip of his coffee, meeting their gaze for a minute (noting when they smiled eagerly at him as if waiting for his approval). "Well, I think that's just wonderful….and a hard job, too. You must be pretty driven to want to do that."

"Yeah," They laughed, scraping back dyed hair behind their ears. "Tell me about it. It's really tough sometimes. But…" They bit their lip again, but despite their bashful expression (those crooked teeth digging into their soft skin, like he wanted to do), their eyes never left his. "I believe people deserve a second chance…everybody, even the worst people. We should do everything we can to make sure of that, and I want to be part of that. I want to help people."

Something about those words, their eyes on his, speaking to him as if those words were for him and him alone, made something tight catch in Fox's chest, and he almost spluttered a mouthful of hot coffee around the rim of the cup.

"Everyone…even the worst people," Fox said softly to himself, wiping his mouth clean as he glanced down at his shoes, hoping his expression made him look thoughtful instead of…well, complacent. "How very noble of you."

He ran his tongue over his teeth, tilting his head back while the barista typed his order into their register.

"Even people like me?" He then asked, his voice low in the back of his throat, golden eyes flitting upwards, half-lidded, as his brows knitted together with an ominous kind of consideration.

"What was that?" They looked up from the register, not catching what he said.

"Ah, it's nothing, nothing at all." He then said quickly with a subdued laugh and a casual smile. "This is lovely, by the way. What am I drinking?"

"Oh, it's just an oat milk latte," They chuckled with a shrug. "But…" They then continued in a quiet whisper, leaning into him over the counter, like they were telling a secret. "I infused the milk with fresh lavender and thyme this morning. This is the first time I'm trying it out in the shop."

When they were this close to him, their scent was overwhelmingly intoxicating and attractive, so much so that it made his guts twist in ravenous hunger and his growing bulge throb even more.

"Ah…how unique." He grinned, taking another sip of the coffee, doing his best to look deliberate. "The lavender adds a really nice touch, as does the thyme. Very subtle, but distinct. It's wonderful, really." He said, forcing a slightly impressed look on his face as he looked up at them, his golden eyes sparkling at their own grinning face, ecstatic at the praise.

"I'm so glad you think so," They grinned, before turning the register around for him to see and pay. "That'll be four-fifty today. No charge for the extras, of course."

"How very kind of you," He said softly (and mostly to himself), taking his phone from his pocket and tapping it against the register's contactless sensor in a quick and fluid gesture.

So fluid that he was almost certain that they didn't notice him taking their picture.

The register let out a high BEEP in recognition of his payment, and a receipt was quickly spat out on the barista's side.

"Great, that's all gone through. Well," The barista's grin faded into a polite smile, as the interaction wound to a close, tearing off the paper receipt and stuffing it in the cash drawer of their register. "It was great speaking with you today, Mr…"

"Fox." He said, taking another sip of coffee with a light smirk. Their picture must have been scanned into the database by now, from the way his phone was buzzing in his pocket. "Just Fox. No titles."

"Fox." The barista said back to him with a nod. "See you around?" They added hopefully.

"Certainly," Fox replied with as close to a genuine smile as he could still manage. "It was lovely speaking with you too, darling. Take care of yourself."

Once Fox left the cafe, a tinkle of a bell above the door marking his exit and leaving the young barista to attend to their other tasks while it was still quiet, he took out an old flip-phone and dialed a familiar number, still thoughtfully sipping his coffee as the cold chill of the morning ran down his spine.

"Hey…yeah, I have a special request for you."

His voice was low and quiet once the person on the other end of the phone silently picked up, waiting for his instructions.

"I want a pick-up from a specific spot, today if you can. I'll send you the location." He took another sip of coffee as he idly paced the front of the cafe, hearing a few words from the other end of the line. "Yeah, I've just uploaded them to the database. Local university, no housemates, family not around, it looks like…mm, and cute as a button, I know, I know."

Fox smiled widely, his tail wagging a little more frantically as his mind raced with gruesome thoughts.

"As soon as you can. No damage in transit or no bonus, got it? Great."

He hung up with a snap of the phone and drained the last of the coffee from its cup, running his tongue over his lips in silent consideration.

He could get used to lavender and thyme.

#fox tpof #fox x mc #fox x reader #ren hana #ren x mc #ren x reader #drabbles #bro you cannot fix him. hit him with your car #qs

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cator99 · 16 days

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theres this cool Work Friend of mine who is 1 position above me in the job hierarchy and thus has more responsibilities but half the goons working here either don't realize that or don't like it because she's a 25 year old woman who isn't overly-accommodating or energetic in that way people expect young women to be like trying to appease people's egos etc but she's just very straightforward and monotone and behaves in the way most males in these positions do so people are always bitching about her correcting their work and giving directions (it's....her job.....)(contrast this with my housemate-coworker who cleans up after others and fixes their mistakes without pointing them out because shes afraid to offend them– shes being paid to point out mistakes so they dont happen again so this is just ridiculous– is always pitching up her voice and trying to awkwardly sweet-talk/grovel/plead with people instead of just saying "okay here's the plan" etc and guess what people still don't like her! Because her behavior is neurotic and grating)... anyways for a long time she's been telling me gluten free snacks to try, like this was the majority of our non-work-related interactions at first and it was multiple times every shift (seems like not a lot but she really keeps to herself) and then legit like 6 months into us being coworkers I thanked her for always recommending me new gluten free things since I tend to eat like the same 3 things every day, and she's like Yeah I had the same issues for a long time it's hard to branch out when most food will kill you I didnt know what to do when I was first diagnosed... and I'm like...??? You have celiac disease too? Yeah she forgot to mention that at all. Just started walking up to me with food like "eat this" and forgot to mention this factor. Anyways I've always had a lot of respect for her and I think she's very cool and I like that despite us not being close because she's really closed off, she's always been very comfortable being critical of me because while other people take offense in response to her approach to socializing being stating facts (often seems rude) + naturally blunted affect, I like to play along... I also think it actually indicates a deeper kindness and consideration... it's very flattering... also feels more Real... I brought up my secret plan for next month and she immediately brought up the logistical issues with it (stating Facts) which led to a discussion around my immediate plans for dealing with these issues, and so on and so forth...... I like it and make me want to be her friend... I've spent too much of my life as an unrestrained Yes Man type and over time realized that I actually much prefer to be surrounded by "No" types. It brings balance to both our worlds. I'm much more of a Maybe Man now (with a strong leaning towards "No". I'd say I "make exceptions" for all of about 2 friend but its more accurate to say that my input is somewhat redundant. The secret to successful Yes Man-ing is to find a productive place for it and keep it there). Anyways ok I also don't want her to feel overwhelmed by my eagerness so even though she was the one who tapped me on the shoulder when she saw me at the train station after work and we walked through the station chatting, when I saw her holding her earbuds on the platform as the train pulled up I said Alright hope you enjoy your ride home :) and then went and sat on the far end of the train (and closed my eyes)... is that weird? I let women take the lead always. one time I told her I was going on break and she followed me outside literally dead silent and then told me to go to the dollar store with her to buy chapstick and then sat next to me while I ate and was mostly just quiet even when I asked things and talked. She seemed a little down so I talked about good and nice things. Okay the thing is I think her autistic traits would be more obvious to others if she wasn't so beautiful... many such cases......... do you think she want be my friend yes or no

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whereforarthur · 2 months

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Wedding Day Bliss~

Request: I had this idea if a wedding day. Like the whole wedding day leading up to the end of the night. Like the saying their vows and it being really emotional and George tearing up when she is walking down the aisle and the reception and all their friends and family watching them be so in love. Also their first dance as husband and wife I think would be so cute then sharing kisses and just being in their own bubble with George’s friends making speeches.

Pairing: George Clarkey x reader

Rating: PG-13

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

*****

"The best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly who you are: good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you. The right person is still going to think the sun shines out of your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with." —Juno

"You okay, mate?" Arthur's voice cut through the early morning chill as George stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hand hovered over the shaving cream, his eyes bloodshot from last night's festivities.

"Yeah, just trying to remember what year it is," George joked, rubbing his hand over his unshaven face. The wedding was in a few hours, and the nerves were starting to set in. He had never felt so alive, so ready to embark on a new chapter with the love of his life. Yet, the gravity of the promise he was about to make weighed on him like the hangover he was pretending not to have.

The house was buzzing with activity, the air thick with excitement and anticipation. The smell of fresh flowers wafted in from the open windows, mingling with the faint scent of his mother's famous breakfast spread. He could hear the distant chatter of the bridesmaids, the occasional burst of laughter, and the clinking of champagne flutes as they toasted to the soon-to-be newlyweds. George took a deep breath and turned to face the day ahead.

When she reached him, George's hand trembled slightly as he took hers. The priest's words were a gentle hum in the background as they exchanged vows, their eyes never leaving each other's.

"Y/N," George began, his voice clear and steady despite the tumult of emotions churning within him. "Thank you for loving me, for understanding me, and for putting up with my friends. They're a wild bunch, but they're mine, and you've welcomed them into your heart without question." He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he thought of the countless nights spent cleaning up after their drunken escapades. "I promise to stand by you, to cherish you, and to laugh with you, even when they're singing off-key karaoke at three in the morning."

Each word felt like a promise etched into their very souls, a declaration that no matter what life threw at them, they would face it together. And as he slipped the ring onto her finger, he knew that he had made the right choice.

The congregation chuckled softly, and George felt a warmth spread through him. He took a deep breath and continued, "I vow to support you in your dreams, even if it means watching every cooking show on Netflix with you." He winked, remembering her passion for culinary mastery, which often resulted in kitchen disasters that only she found amusing. "To be your partner, your confidant, and your rock, as you are mine."

"And now," the priest announced, turning to Y/N, "it is your turn to speak your vows." She took a deep breath, her hand tightening around George's. Her voice was steady and sure as she began, "George, my love, from the moment I met you, I knew you were different. Your kindness, your humor, your unwavering loyalty—these are the traits that have made me fall in love with you over and over again."

The room grew still, captivated by her every word. "I promise to be your home, a place where you can always find comfort and peace. I vow to stand by your side, through every challenge and every victory, holding your hand through it all. I will laugh with you, cry with you, and maybe even dance with you when you're feeling particularly courageous."

Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, and George felt his cheeks warm at the thought of their many dance floor disasters. She went on, "I will cherish every moment we share, from the mundane to the magnificent, because each one is a gift that I never knew I needed until you gave it to me. I will love you fiercely, George, because you have shown me what it means to truly be loved."

The room was silent as the gravity of her words settled over the guests. The emotion in her voice was palpable, and George felt his heart swell with love for this incredible woman. He couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life making her as happy as she made him.

"You may now kiss the bride," the priest announced, breaking the spell. George leaned in, his heart racing, and kissed her softly. It was a kiss that spoke of their future together, a gentle promise of love and protection. The congregation erupted in applause and cheers, and the organist began to play the wedding march.

They walked back down the aisle, hand in hand, smiling at their friends and family. The warmth of their union seemed to radiate outwards, wrapping everyone in a blanket of joy. The light from the stained glass windows painted them in a rainbow of colors, as if the very walls of the church were celebrating with them.

*****

The reception was held in the manor's lush gardens, under a grand marquee that had been set up especially for the occasion. The air was filled with the sweet scent of roses and the sound of laughter. The guests were already mingling, eager to congratulate the newlyweds. As they stepped outside, George and Y/N were greeted by a shower of confetti, thrown by their exuberant friends and relatives. It was like stepping into a whirlwind of love and good wishes.

Throughout the evening, George couldn't help but steal glances at his bride, her smile never fading, her eyes always sparkling. They danced, they talked, they laughed, and with every shared moment, he felt his heart swell with love. The speeches from his friends were equal parts embarrassing and endearing, each one reminding him of the incredible journey that had led them here.

But it was Arthur's speech that truly stole the show. He took the microphone with a grin that was a mix of mischief and affection, his eyes twinkling as he began to recount their escapades from over the years. The room grew quieter, anticipating the tales that were about to unfold.

"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends," Arthur started, his voice carrying over the clinking of silverware and the gentle hum of conversation. "I stand before you today, not just as George's best man, but as his confidant, his wingman, and occasionally his designated driver." The crowd chuckled, setting the tone for the heartfelt roast that was to come.

"Now, I've known George for what feels like an eternity," Arthur continued, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "We've been through it all—the good, the bad, and the questionably legal. And through it all, he's remained the same lovable, slightly disaster-prone man we all know and love."

The crowd chuckled, and George felt a warmth spread through him as Arthur winked at him. "But today, we're not just celebrating George and Y/N's love story," he said, his tone growing serious. "We're also saying goodbye to the bachelor days, the nights out that ended with pizza on the floor and George's head in the toilet." A collective groan echoed through the room, followed by laughter. "And Y/N, let me just say, you're a brave soul for taking him on. You're not just gaining a husband; you're inheriting a lifetime subscription to 'What the hell was I thinking?' magazine."

Arthur raised his glass, and the room fell silent. "But in all seriousness, George, I couldn't be happier for you. You've found someone who not only puts up with your terrible taste in music and your obsession with superheroes but also makes you a better man. And Y/N, you're not just stealing him from us; you're giving us back a George we haven't seen in a long time—one who's more at peace, more content, and dare I say it, more responsible."

The room erupted in laughter, and George couldn't help but feel a twinge of truth in Arthur's words. Y/N had indeed changed him for the better, bringing order to the chaos that was his life and filling his days with a warmth he hadn't realized he was missing. He looked over at her, her cheeks flushed with a blush that made her look even more radiant, and knew that every second of this new journey with her would be worth it.

As Arthur wrapped up his speech, the DJ took over. The air was electric with joy, and George found himself drawn to Y/N, ready for their first dance as husband and wife. The first dance was a slow, sweet melody that had been playing on the radio the first time they had kissed. As George held her in his arms, their bodies moving in perfect sync, he whispered into her ear, "Thank you for choosing me." Her eyes searched his, filled with a love so deep it seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. "I've always chosen you," she murmured back, her voice filled with a gentle certainty that washed over him like a warm summer rain.

*****

The evening passed in a blur of shared glances, whispered promises, and stolen kisses. The air was electric with love and happiness, and every moment felt like a precious memory in the making. As the night grew darker, the stars began to twinkle outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, echoing the sparkle in their eyes.

Their friends and family watched with smiles, some with misty eyes, as the couple moved in perfect harmony. The lyrics of the song spoke of a love that had withstood the test of time, a promise of forever, and George felt it resonate deep within him. He whispered sweet nothings into Y/N's ear, her cheek pressed against his chest, and she giggled, her happiness infectious.

He couldn't stop thinking about how lucky he was to have her, to call her his wife. Every few seconds, he'd lean down and press a gentle kiss to her forehead, her cheek, her lips—any part of her he could reach without breaking the rhythm of their dance. Her eyes would flutter closed with each touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips, and he knew she felt the same overwhelming love that he did.

A silent conversation of love and adoration that didn't need words to convey the depth of their feelings. The music swelled around them, a cocoon of sound that blocked out the world and left only the two of them, spinning and swaying to the beat of their hearts. The warmth of her body against his was a reassurance that she was real, that this wasn't just some beautiful dream he would wake up from.

From the sidelines, George's friends couldn't help but tease him. They had never seen him so lost in a moment, so utterly consumed by happiness. "Look at him," Chris murmured to Arthur Hill, his own partner in crime at past escapades. "He's gone soft."

Arthur Hill chuckled, raising his glass. "It's about time," he said, a hint of sentimentality in his voice. "He's been chasing that love bug for years. It's good to see him finally catch it."

Their banter grew louder, a playful jab here and there, but the affection behind their words was unmistakable. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day when George Clarkey would be this whipped," Arthur quipped, earning a playful glare from George.

Chris, Max, Arthur, and Arthur Hill had been the life of the party, charming the guests with their wit and camaraderie. They had been an integral part of George's life for years, and seeing them interact with Y/N and her friends was a delightful reminder of how intertwined their worlds had become. Their banter was light-hearted, their laughter infectious, and their love for the couple palpable.

As the night grew later and the music grew softer, the four friends—now bonded by more than just friendship—gathered around George and Y/N, raising their glasses in a toast. "To new beginnings," Arthur said, his voice a blend of joviality and sincerity. "May your love be as wild and unpredictable as our adventures, yet as steadfast as the foundation of this ancient city we call home."

Chris leaned in, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "And may you never run out of patience for each other," he added with a knowing smile, "because with us around, you're going to need it." The group erupted in laughter, the tension of the day giving way to the easy camaraderie that had carried them through so much.

"To Y/N," Max said, raising his glass higher, "for saving us from ever having to listen to George's dreadful dating stories again." The room buzzed with knowing chuckles, and George couldn't help but laugh along. The group's laughter grew as they reminisced about his infamous Hinge dates—stories of catfishing, awkward silences, and that one girl who had stood him up a record eight times.

Y/N leaned into George, her eyes shining with mirth. "But I'm the one who finally caught you," she whispered, her voice a gentle caress against his ear. "And I'm so happy I could be the one to save you from a life of swiping and ghosting."

Their friends' laughter grew, but George's gaze never left hers. "You didn't just save me," he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "You gave me a reason to stop looking." He placed a tender kiss on her cheek, the warmth of his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

As the music played on, George watched his wife dance with her father, her smile never fading, her eyes shimmering with happiness. The moment was so perfect it hurt. He felt a gentle pat on his shoulder and turned to see Arthur, a solemn look on his face. "You know, George," Arthur said, his voice barely above a whisper, "you're the luckiest man here."

George nodded, the weight of Arthur's words sinking in. "I know," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "I never thought I'd find someone who could handle all of this—me, us, the fans, the chaos. But she does. She's my sanity in a world gone mad."

*****

The night grew later, the music slower, and the room more intimate. The air was thick with the scent of happiness and the warmth of a love that had conquered all. As the final notes of their first dance played out, George leaned in to kiss his wife, the sweetness of their union echoing in the silence that followed. Their friends and family cheered, but the couple remained lost in their own little world, oblivious to the applause.

The reception wound down, and the photographer captured their love in a series of candid shots, the flashes of the camera a stark contrast to the soft glow of the candlelit room. They mingled with their guests, thanking them for their presence, sharing laughs, and receiving well-wishes that felt like warm embraces. Each moment was a treasure, a memory to hold onto forever.

The rest of the night passed in a whirlwind of dance, laughter, and love. Each moment with Y/N felt like a gift, a precious memory to be stored away and cherished for the rest of their lives. They shared dances with their parents, the joy in their faces reflecting the happiness of their children. They watched as their friends paired off, spinning and laughing, the music weaving a tapestry of memories that would bind them all together for years to come.

Y/N leaned into George, her arms wrapped around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for choosing me, for loving me, for saving me too."

George pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. "Saving you?" He cocked his head, a question in his eyes.

Y/N nodded, her smile softening. "From a life of questionable life choices and questionable haircuts," she teased, her thumb gently tracing the line of his freshly trimmed hair. "But mostly, from the loneliness that comes from not knowing your soulmate is out there waiting for you."

George's heart swelled with gratitude, his eyes never leaving hers. "You've done more than that," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "You've made me whole, Y/N. You've given me a purpose, a reason to wake up every morning with a smile."

Their friends had cleared the dance floor, giving them space to continue their intimate moment. The soft glow of the fairy lights above them cast a warm, romantic hue over the two of them, as if the universe itself was bending to highlight their love. Y/N's hand found its way to his cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped his eye. "And you've done the same for me," she murmured. "You've shown me that love isn't just a word in a book or a scene in a movie. It's real, it's messy, and it's beautiful."

Her words hit him like a tidal wave, the depth of her feelings resonating through his very being. He leaned into her touch, feeling the warmth of her skin, the gentle beat of her heart. "I never knew I could love someone like this," he confessed, his voice a whisper in the stillness of the night. "But here we are, and I can't imagine a single day without you by my side."

*****

The moon had risen high in the sky by the time the party began to wind down. The guests slowly started to say their goodbyes, each one offering congratulations and well wishes for a long and happy life together. As the last of the cars pulled away, George and Y/N stood on the porch, hand in hand, watching the taillights fade into the distance. The cool evening breeze danced around them, carrying with it the promise of a future filled with love and adventure.

Turning to face him, Y/N looked up into George's eyes, her own sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Ready for our grand finale?" she asked, a playful smile playing on her lips.

George raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Grand finale?"

"Mm-hmm," she nodded, her smile growing wider. "The part where we finally get to be alone."

"Alone?" George echoed, feigning innocence. "What could possibly happen when we're alone?"

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, I'm sure we can think of something," she teased, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper.

The banter between them was light, a playful dance of words that had become a hallmark of their relationship. George's cheeks flushed slightly, the humor in his eyes betraying his excitement. "First time as husband and wife, you mean," he clarified with a grin, squeezing her hand.

"Ah, yes," Y/N giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But you know what they say, practice makes perfect."

Without a moment's hesitation, George bent down, wrapping one arm under her knees and the other around her waist, and scooped her up into his arms. She squealed with delight, her gown fluttering around them as he spun her in a circle. "Let's get to it then, Mrs. Clarkey," he said, his grin growing wider with each passing second.

Her laughter was like music to his ears, a sweet symphony that had played on repeat in his mind since the moment they first met. "I can't wait," she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with excitement. The night was still young, and the possibilities stretched out before them like a never-ending horizon.

Carrying her over the threshold, George felt his heart swell with a love so profound, it was almost painful. This was it—the start of their forever, a journey they would navigate together, hand in hand.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, the sound echoing through the now empty house. The quiet was a stark contrast to the buzz of the wedding, but it was a welcome one. The world outside could wait—this moment was theirs, and theirs alone.

#george clarke fics #george clarkey #george clarke fluff #george clarkey x reader #fluff #british youtubers

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beanghostprincess · 10 months

Note

I don’t have many Op friends I can talk about this with but one of my top ship tropes is when it’s established that Luffy is slow on the uptake regarding people’s relationships and even HE knows someone is in love and pining. Like, to make a point at how utterly obvious it is. Sanji cuts food for Usopp into little bite sized pieces? Luffy just asks him something that indicates Sanji and Usopp are in a relationship and the cook almost chokes. Nami tries to write a letter and is getting visibly frustrated at not finding the right words and he just looks over her shoulder like „Say Vivi I said hi!“. He witnessed Shank and Buggy finally meeting at laughtale and there is just a bunch of „I WOULD HAVE FOLLOWED YOU!“ „I never wanted you to leave!“ „YOU WERE A COWARD!“ „Why does that matter now?!“ „BECAUSE I ALMOST GAVE UP MY DREAM FOR YOU!“ and Luffy just looks at this insane display in front of him while his idol does a homoerotic sword vs dagger fight with a clown and just „Are you seeing this shit Zoro?“ like… congrats . You’re being such a lovesick idiot even Luffy is like „Damn bitch you got it bad“

Honestly, this is extremely in character and pretty much not far from the truth. Luffy, despite being a dumbass, is a very perceptive person when it comes to people's feelings. One of his best traits as a main character is that he's empathetic to the point of knowing how people feel or what they want without needing to know the background or the rest of the story. I actually hate when the fanon perception of Luffy gets simplified to "he's an idiot" because yeah, he might be reckless and stupid and he's very silly, but he's emotionally mature to a sickening extent. Savior complex much? (Not that he wants to be a hero, god forbid, he would hate that. I just mean that his constant need to save everyone so nobody he cares about dies on him or gets hurt again has made him really aware of his surroundings and people's feelings). And, well, tbh he has always been like that. Very honest and perceptive, I mean. He might be a bit slow when catching up to some things and he might not know why people feel what they feel sometimes, but he knows what they're feeling. Get me? Like he might be aware of Nami being mad at him, for example, and not knowing why, but being aware that he has to do something to change that.

What I want to say with all of this is that Luffy noticing romance within the crew is extremely canon because he knows how his friends act, and if he notices changes in a person towards someone else, he might be stupid but he's not that oblivious. Like, he knows something's up. And to him the whole concept of pining is so stupid because if you feel something, just let the other person know! But then again, his relationship with Zoro is just different from that, and not everyone can have a devoted long-term marriage without saying a word.

And his reaction towards people pining would be hilarious because the guy would be exhausted from the crew having crushes and not doing anything. A Sanuso trope I love is Luffy going to Usopp like "Hey, confess already because Sanji has been distracted lately, and if he stops cooking because he is sad and pining for you I will be very mad" and he says shit like this and goes away and leaves Usopp alone with that information as if it was the most obvious and normal thing to do. But, you know, Luffy gets things done around here, at least.

#he's so pookie honestly #and he's so sassy sometimes give me more sassy luffy #he's just like 'why can't everyone be like me and zoro'#and nami is like 'BECAUSE YOU TWO ARE BUILT DIFFERENT FROM HEAD TO TOE YOU TWO ARE NOT NORMAL'#one piece #monkey d luffy #sanuso #namivivi #zolu #shuggy

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patrophthia · 1 year

Text

make you mine | sirius black

⇢ now playing ‘get up’: track 1

pairing: sirius black x reader

wc: 1.7k

genre: angst (maybe)?, one sided pining but not really, shy!reader, maybe OOC sirius

summary: it’s hard having crushes, it’s even harder when you’re someone who’s on the shyer side crushing on someone as popular as sirius black; good things lily evans has it in herself to play a little bit of matchmaker!

Opposite attracts. That’s what they say. And for the most part you believe it’s true. Take magnets for example: the same forces repels whilst the opposite poles pulls each other in.

You believe that it’s true once again when you realise that you might just be very attracted to someone who was quite literally the opposite of who you are.

“So who is it?” Lily asks, sitting down besides you. “Don’t feed me the whole ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about spiel’ you’ve been more smiley lately, who is it?”

You actually hate Lily Evan (well . . . It’s debatable, she’s your best friend after all). “It’s no one important.”

“It’s not?” She says slowly, as if she was testing out the words. “Is it a crush or a boyfriend?”

“Crush. No more questions.”

“Is it one of James’ friends?” She asks, pushing at your buttons. “Is it Sirius?” A gasp. “Seriously? Him of all people?”

Okay now you do actually hate Lily Evans. “It’s not that big of a deal,” you mumble, avoiding her eyes. “It’s a small crush, it'll go away.”

“It better.” Despite her words, her green eyes lights up, excited by the prospect of your love life. “How long has this ‘small crush’ been going on? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“A week maybe?” You lay your head on your table. “Didn’t tell you because I knew you’d act like this.”

“Like what?” She feigns a pout. “Judging you for your horrid taste in men? Let’s be honest here, it’d be a hassle to date Black.”

“You say that as if Sirius would ever date me.”

“Now why would you say that?” Lily frowns now, pushing her red hair back behind her ears. “Sirius is a huge red flag, yeah, but he’d be lucky if he ever lands you.”

You know she means well, but in truth; you’d be the lucky one if you landed Sirius Black of all people. “Does he even know my name?”

“He—” Lily pauses, “—I think he does.” She then sighs exasperatedly. “But even if he doesn’t, what does it matter? It just means that you’d have new ground to cover when you go out with him.”

“You expect me to talk about what my name is on my date with Sirius? —if I even land a date with Sirius.” You say incredulously.

“Not just your name,” Lily says. “It’s just one of the many conversations you could have on your date with him. And on that other matter, it’ll be easy for you to land a date on Sirius, he’s Sirius for Merlin’s sake.”

“He’s Sirius, Lils. Not a playboy,” you mumble. “I doubt he’d go out with someone who’s not even half as good looking as him.”

Lily grumbles, reaching over to pinch at your sides. “Are you really saying that about yourself? HAVE YOU SEEN YOURSELF, Yn?”

Overly supportive, that’s what your best friend is and despite her other annoying traits —like knowing you so well she was able to tell that you had a crush on her boyfriend’s best friend in a split second, you know she means well.

“It’s not just about looks, Lils.”

“Hey! You’re the one who brought looks into this conversation,” she argues. “And if it’s not just about looks, Sirius will still be lucky to have you because you’re annoyingly fun to be around. So just— ask him out, Yn. The worst he can do is say no.”

Yes, the worst he can do is say no. But that single no would be enough to ruin your entire week. So you’d settle for just admiring him from afar.

Except —well, Lily has other things planned.

“Sirius, this is Yn,” Lily says with a sly smile, “Yn, this Sirius. Remember his name, I know he has a forgettable face.” That little—

“Hi Sirius.” Is all you say to him, nothing more, nothing less; he doesn’t need to know about how he’s been plaguing your mind all week. “You don’t have a forgettable face, don’t worry about it.”

Sirius is kind enough to laugh it off, smiling fondly at you. You like him, you think— no, you know, you do. “I don’t even know why Evans is introducing me to you, I know you, Yn. We’re in the same classes, I’ve known you for the last seven years of my life.”

“I know you too, Sirius.” You gulp, trying to think of something else to say. What was wrong with you today? You’re normally a little more talkative than this. It's something odd about Sirius that makes you feel this way though, maybe it’s because of how sickeningly handsome he is. Yeah, that’s it. Blame it on his handsomeness. “I’ve always known you too.”

“Mhmm,” Lily hums —maybe a little bit too delightfully. “So tell me Sirius, I’m a bit curious here. What do you look for in a significant other?”

Is she— really doing this? Right now?

Sirius chuckles, playing it cool. “Are you hitting on me right now, Evans? Is prongs not enough for you?”

Lily scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You wish. I’m just asking because I wanted to know what it takes for the notorious Sirius Black to finally settle down.”

Sirius mulls it over for a second. “I guess I’m looking for someone loud (not you), funny (you at times), understanding (you guess), and kind (you could only hope you are).” He glances at you, then adds. “It wouldn’t hurt if they were pretty too.”

If that’s what it takes for Sirius Black to settle down, maybe it was time for you to start working on those traits. You need to start taking the initiative because even though you might seem super shy, you’re convinced (been convinced by Lily) that it’ll only take you a minute to make Sirius Black yours.

So, throughout the next hour of you, Lily, and the Marauder’s little hang out session, you try to be more vocal. Talk more, making yourself heard as much as possible despite hating the attention that came with it.

You crack jokes, here and there; a few funny enough to earn a pity laugh from Lily until you give up completely. Maybe comedy wasn’t your strongest suit.

You try your best to offer advice when Peter confides his problems with the group, only to realise a few minutes too late that it was better to listen than to say. How understanding could you be if you weren’t even listening to the explanation in the first place?

And as for being kind? Everybody could always be a little bit kinder, that’s not excluding you.

Maybe you weren’t really fit to be the one Sirius Black settles down for. Maybe it’ll take more than a minute to make Sirius Black yours, maybe it won’t even happen at all.

You need to take a breather, you think. You excuse yourself from the group, startling Lily slightly as she begins drifting off on James’ shoulder. You take a deep breath the second you find yourself alone. Letting yourself reiterate your situation.

You like Sirius Black. Terrible so. You don’t know why you do. You just know that you like seeing him pass by you in the hallways, like seeing him live his life as the popular guy from Gryffindor, like seeing him smile fondly at you when Lily introduces you to him, likes hearing him say that he knows you, he knows you and what you horribly like most: is hearing him say that it wouldn’t hurt if his significant other was pretty as he looked at you.

It’s sick. It’s sickeningly twisted how such words—mere actions could have such an effect on you. If only you weren’t so shy around him, maybe then you could tell him just how much liked him. How much it ached you to yearn for him as much as you did despite knowing nothing about him past his pretty face.

“Is it okay if I join you?” It is sick how he finds it in himself to seek you out at a time like this. You nod, and he leans against a wall close by. “Are you okay? You seem different today.”

You’re quiet for a moment, you then turn to him slowly. “How so?”

“You’re louder, I’ve never seen you speak so much in the last seven years I’ve known you. You also made jokes which were weird since you’ve always been the one for snarky comments.” And when you furrow your brows at him, he explains himself. “I overhear them sometimes when you mock the Professors. I guess. . . You’re just not the you I know today, is something wrong?”

You blink slowly, processing the words. Sirius noticed those things about you? “I guess I’m just tired.”

“You’re loud when you’re tired?” He says with a sly smirk. “Are you sure you’re not just trying to impress me?”

And if you were? “No.”

Sirius frowns playfully. “Awh, and here I thought I finally had my chance with you.”

“What?” You’re pretty sure your brain is short circuiting because there is no way that this conversation is real. Nope. Not at all.

Sirius chuckles at you, finding you more than just adorable. “I fancy you, Yn. I’ve fancied you for a while now, I just didn’t want to say anything because I knew you were shy about these things so I waited for you to take the first move. But it’s been months and I’m getting tired of waiting so I asked Evans to introduce us tonight just in case you didn’t know who I was but you still wouldn’t take the hint.”

“When will you take the hint and make me yours, Yn?”

You feel as though your heart was in your throat, staring at Sirius who has patiently waited for you all this time. And you wondered if he’d wait even longer if you asked him to. “Sirius,” you say first, his name feeling foreign in your mouth. It’s both so familiar and new at the same time. “Sirius, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he responds carefully. “I just need to know if you feel the same. A nod. A kiss. Anything. Anything to mark me as yours, I will take it.”

You don’t say anything and he tries to be okay with it, he tries to give you time. You’re not like him, you don’t think like he does, your thoughts differ from his and he thinks that’s why he likes you so much. He likes you so much because opposite attracts, and you are different from him enough for him to feel drawn to you.

“Sirius,” you say finally.

Sirius watches you with bated breath, “yes?”

“Let me take you out on a date,” you say first; Sirius waits for you to say more, of course he does, he’ll wait for you even if it’s all he’ll ever do. “And then I promise to make you mine. Does that sound okay?”

Sirius nods. Of course he nods. Who was he to ever deny you anything?

— from bee: 1/4 of our four boys down! super shy is probably my least fav track on the ep but is still super addictive to listen to

#— series: get up #sirius black x you #sirius black angst #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x female reader #sirius black x yn #sirius black x oc

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

Note

AITA for writing a paragraph on how I want to drop my friends?

(15F for ref, everyone in here is also F and around the same age)

In 2022, I returned from a six-week camp session with friends I only see once a year (pretty shitty experience ngl, but I still had fun), A couple days later, they accused me of stealing this girl's shirt since I was the last one to wear it. I told her I didn't and I wouldn't. I had a similar steal it because. They proceed to accuse me, so to get out my feelings I write this lengthy paragraph in my notes app expressing my thoughts and what I don't like about the group. This never gets sent out, and we stay friends.

In 2023, they went to camp again (for the last eligible year so it was very special to them), but I stayed home due to pre-existing commitments. This was also the time when the notes app trend was going on, a.k .a. where people would post their notes app and all the antics they wrote. I also posted a video like this, and on the sixth slide, I put the paragraph that I wrote in 2022 (it said 2022 at the top). They didn't immediately see this because they weren't allowed to have their phones, but I private the video before they got back due to a mental health issue I had accidentally aired out. At this time, I saw nothing wrong with the paragraph being included because all the issues had blown over.

A couple months later, I un-privated the video because YOLO and the group found it and immediately got hated on so hard for the video. They post pictures of me to social media stories write paragraphs about how awful of a person I am, create lies about me, and comment on all of my Tiktok posts where I talk about the issue, despite me being vague.

I don't know where I stand in this issue because yeah, I didn't go to the trip this year, and the paragraph was admittedly rude, but they didn't even give me a chance to explain, and getting body shamed on a private Snapchat story when they know I had an ED isn't something i think I deserve, but I need outsider perspective.

The paragraph for reference:

I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore. The whole entire time I was at camp I felt isolated because I was not as involved and as social with the boys as you guys were/are, and that might not be your fault, but you guys have no care in that being the only thing you discuss on this group chat. Every time I text about something else, it always gets pushed to the side and now you are accusing me of stealing (name)’s top. I agree, I was the last on to wear it, but distinctly remember throwing it back into (name)'s trunk. I am sorry it did not make the trip back home, but it is not my fault. I don’t want your slutty top anyways, I only borrowed it because my ebb to street wasn’t going to work. I have done so much for you guys, like letting everyone borrow my clothes, giving away my lululemon, and while some of my pieces were stolen, I am not pointing fingers at random people because I have control of my feelings. So many words have been wasted protecting the reputation of Cabin 10 from others who think you guys are attention-seeking whores (you want names? It’s the whole fucking camp), and everyone looked at me in pity when I cried into my hands because I was so sad. I have heard you guys talk shit about me in front of my face (*giggling and whispering* Are you going to try out for the play? No that’s weird. Both heads turn towards me, and laughter erupts out of the two mouths. You know who you are), and you guys have talked shit about each other to me, so I can only imagine what has been said about me. I felt ashamed about my passions, the only personality trait you guys addressed was that I was so mean and I was smart (you only revealed the latter on in private, the former was told to everyone). I am done feeling horrible about myself because you guys are so wrapped up in what every (camp) boy thinks of you, so I am cutting contact. You have ruined my camp experience to the point where I am not coming back.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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six-white-venus · 8 months

Text

the worst trait of me and my family is probably this: we never learned to say the word sorry.

i) my best friend and i, we are no people. knives? maybe. liars? definitely. but people? i’m not so sure.

knives were never forged to be tender (what a shame, what a shame) and we too, fall and slay what we meant to protect. him and i, we go for the throat when we clash. we hurt and bleed and oh, i should be terrified, i should be running for my life, but all i am is tired and a bit lonely and would really like his arms around me.

( “can we please stop fighting now.”

“oh god yes please.”)

because time and time again, this man has held my heart in his hands and cleaned its festering wounds with cotton dipped in alcohol (always the healer, always the lover) and wrapped gauze around them with clinical precision. and i have walked through the maze of his head and tended to his withering garden, have dragged the sun and fresh air and all the oceans to the barren land to make it bloom (always the poet, always the lover).

him and i, we have never needed words because we are knives forged in the same fire and at the end of the day, we both know that he will be the one who wordlessly stitches my broken heart and i will be the one who sings him to sleep.

ii) let me paint you a picture:

blue that fades into red that fades into black that fades into blue that fades into red. loud, clashing and nonsensical. a pit in your stomach that was dug with desperation and blunt fingernails. how do you colour anger that is also pain, grief, hate, love, fear and truth? the smell of the paint is foul and clogs your windpipes. blunt fingernails and blue and black and madness. can you bear to look at what you created without flinching?

that’s what anger looks like on my father. a horror. a mottled bruise. a hellfire.

all his life, my father has been scorned, belittled, beaten, spat on. his mother didn’t love him right because her mother didn’t love her right. my dad loves like he hates. something is fucked in his head and heart and his words fade into black and blue and red and this shitshow always ends with me sobbing, bleeding, dying on the floor. my father watches with his hackles raised and his eyes red and wide and glowing. once wounded, an animal never sheathes its claws. it strikes the ones it loves and walks away with its head held high and hands trembling.

but here’s what happens when the curtains close: he pulls me into his arms and brings me tea. he wipes away my tears with hands that has moved mountains to make me smile. he kisses my forehead and tells me that his mom didn’t love him right. my grief is like anger and indignation and love. i wrap my arms around him and cry all the tears he never had the luxury to. who should say sorry, really? is it him or his mom or his mom’s mom or this stupid fucking world? my father has never said the word sorry. he never needed to. this is what love looks like on us. a horror. a mottled bruise. a hellfire.

iii) despite it all, i am not usually an angry person. i take after my father and my mother, after all. i rage like my mother (quick, loud, fire that burns out almost as quickly as it sparked to life) and fight like my father (aim, shoot, bullseye). my sister does something even mildly upsetting and before i know it, i’m cursing her to be miserable till she dies. not even an hour later i’m draping myself over her shoulder and bugging her till she rolls her eyes and smiles ever so slightly.

(“do you have no shame?”

“yeah no i don’t think so.”)

my family and i, we never learned to say the word sorry. because the word sorry never meant sorry, not to us. because at the end of the day, that’s all it is: a word. and it sticks to the back of my tongue and the dents of my molars and gets tangled in my mouth when i try to spit it out. so i grab it by its throat and thread it into my being. i find it so much easier to hide my pathetic inability to do one thing that doesn’t scream that there's something wrong with me with the truth of another three words:

“i love you”

and they are always echoed back to me, just a few million times more tender, in ways only we can understand.

“yeah, i know.”

“that’s great, but there’s no escaping dishes duty.”

“oh, shut up, you.”

“what’s that for?”

a pause and a hum.

“i love you too.”

#vi is back on their dysfuctionally healthy familial love agenda again #it's like. that one quote #love is a doing word #everything stems from love. everything gets its meaning because they are all doing words #maybe it's the way we've all benn raised/fucked over by the world but #saying sorry feels so.... wrong. hollow. it's simply not enough #i've grown up feeling like nothing i do is enough and that also travels to my way of apologising #we are all damaged in one way or another but we are all capable of so much love #and that's what my family and friends have taught me #it's okay if you're messed up and have no idea how to be a functional person. it's okay to screw up. we can sit and fix it #together #my writing #prose poetry #love #words #writeblr #prose #familial love #love languages #anger

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satancopilotsmytardis · 4 months

Text

Kitten's Cream

Pairing: Shigadabi, Dabi/OC (Snowball)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by @norsetenko. Shigaraki and Dabi were supposed to leave together for the week, it was a work trip, but it was going to be nice to be away for a while. Unfortunately, the heteromorphic quirk Tomura also tested on him was only supposed to last a few hours. Now he's a cat heteromorph with no good explanation they can offer the others about that if they're keeping the All For One quirk quiet, which means he's going to be locked in their room without anyone else for a week. It's a really good thing that Duster is happy to leave Snowball to take care of him, and the plushy-made-mortal is delighted to pamper their kitten.

Contents: Mommy kink, mommy dom, Cat!Dabi, lactation kink, oral sex, intercrural sex, multiple orgasms, praise kink, subspace, PIV sex, overstimulation, come eating, sex toys, anal fingering, creampie, wet and messy, aftercare, daddy kink, lingerie

Word count: 7410

"I am never letting you try out another weird quirk on me." Dabi grumbles from where he's perched on the bed, his new set of ears pinned back against his head and his tail whipping behind him with similar agitation.

"You were the one who wanted me to try it." Tomura says as he packs his bag. He has to leave again, though, this time not for treatments with the doctor. Instead, he's heading to tour the rest of the bases with Re-Destro for the week. Unfortunately, since they've been trying very hard to hide the fact that Tomura has AFO's quirk, that means that even though Dabi had wanted to go with him on the trip, he's now confined to the League's wing until the cat parts wear off. The transformation quirk was supposed to bring out animalistic traits in whoever it hit, but Duster was told that it would only take effect for a few hours. But it hadn't worn off for a day and when Tomura contacted Ujiko to ask about the quirk in more depth, he had said it was a mis-type and it would likely last a week.

And yeah, he had been curious about it, he wanted to see what kind of animal he was in the eyes of this quirk. He did not want to be this for a week when he could be with Tomura instead. "This fucking sucks." He grumbles, trying to keep his new claws from sinking into their sheets.

"I know, firefly," Tomura comes over to him and sits on the edge of the bed, waiting. Like he really is a cat.

But it feels like it's all him when he does crawl across the bed to tuck himself into Tomura's side, his ears drooping a little and his tail curling needily around his wrist. He doesn't say anything else. It feels like they’ve hardly gotten a minute to themselves lately, and it's been miserable to deal with lately on top of all of the other work stress. They were already planning on having to do reports and other work online while they were gone for the tours, but at least they would be somewhere new in between. Now Dabi is still going to have to do that work, isolated in their room, without Tomura for a whole other week.

Duster pulls him close, stroking his hair, which always feels nice, but feels really, really good while he's a cat. Good enough, that despite the misery in his chest, he does start to purr softly. Tomura smells a little like spice and a lot like rain as he holds him and pets him for as long as he can spare. But he does have to leave, and all too soon he presses a kiss to the crown of Dabi's head, and he knows then that time is up. "Do you want Snowball while I'm gone?"

Despite his initial protests, and the subsequent mountains of embarrassment that he had to work through after Snowball had been brought to life and had taken on a sexy feminine form, Dabi had ended up, a few times now, letting Tomura use the quirk again. Rarely was it the three of them again, mostly Shig uses Snowball as a way for Dabi not to be lonely while he was away. It was the entire reason he'd gotten Snowball for him when it had only been a large plush moth. A purpose that just seemed melted into Snowball's DNA as it formed under the quirk's effect. Snowball only cared if he was comfortable and happy, and did everything they could to make certain he was, but in a way that never felt condescending. Every action was so genuine and sincere that it made him uncomfortable the first time they had been alone together. But with everything already going to shit before he's even started a frustrating week of working in isolation, he'll be grateful for anything that helps to keep him from completely spiraling.

"Okay."

Tomura kisses his forehead and then reaches over for the stuffed animal. He holds on for a long time, giving it a lot of his energy, likely to keep them around for the entire duration of his trip, and when he lets go, Dabi does immediately chastise him for that slightly.

"You have to work--"

"We've got a three hour drive, trust me, I will be more than happy to sleep through some of Re-Destro's chatter." Tomura gives him another kiss before he finishes packing, and another before he does actually have to go.

But as soon as the door is closed behind him, Dabi's ears are drooping and he's letting out a soft, nearly inaudible feline whine as he sits on their bed alone. He turns to nose at Snowball's minky fabric body, but he knows that they won't be around for a while yet. They never appear right away when Duster uses this quirk.

He only lets himself mope for half an hour before he forces himself to go get his laptop. If he can't do any work in person for the week, then that means he has a finite amount of things he can actually finish while in isolation. A finite amount that will be gone if he gets it done early. Then he can order weed or catnip, whatever he wants to eat, and get stoned out of his mind until Tomura comes home. Is it a perfect solution for his predicament? No, but when has anything in his life ever worked out well for him? He'll make do. He always has before.

///

He wakes to Snowball stroking their hands along his hair and back, their antennae brushing the tips of his ears.

"Good morning, little prince." She murmurs, rubbing her cheek against his head. It's still pitch black in the room which means it could be any time between midnight and five A.M. "I didn't know people could become animals."

Dabi is utterly shameless as he shoves his face into their breasts, though that is an action that is made even more appealing by the ultra soft ruff of fur circling her neck and down just below her collarbones. They give a soft little huff, but it's not a displeased sound, and their hand keeps on playing with his hair. "Duster fucked up."

"I'm sure he'll make it better when he comes home," She assures him. "And I'm sure he's missing seeing how cute you are like this, kitten."

They're probably right, but Dabi just huffs and hides his face even more. Thankfully while Snowball can't pick up social cues from anyone aside from him and Shig, they don't have any trouble at all deciphering that he doesn't want to talk anymore about it right now. Instead they keep stroking his hair, scratching behind his ears, and rubbing his back. Their wings curl around him and keep him warm and close as they start to purr softly. His own feline sounds mingle with theirs and before long he's sound asleep again.

///

The next morning Snowball watches him as he gets ready for the day, having to help his stupid cat brain get over the issues with the water so he actually gets into the shower. He can't believe he's suddenly aquaphobic and he's very glad that they are hardwired to not make him feel like a dumbass over that because it's the worst shower experience of his life. But when he gets out, they've retrieved a delivery from their door, breakfast and a gift basket Duster must have arranged that's full of cat things. There are treats, toys, a collar with a bell, and lots of catnip, but Dabi rejects most of it, knowing he has a lot of work to do today despite what he got done the night before. Snowball's antennae droop and they watch him from the bed as he works through the morning and well into the afternoon.

And it is miserable. Not being able to be at any of the meetings in person, or even call in lest the others find out exactly why he isn't present, means that he is working on paperwork and logistics, and that means he has to read through corporate reports like he's... not someone who died at twelve and stopped getting an education all the way back then. It means hours to struggle to understand things that normally get spoken about casually enough that he can follow along with the gist and not look like an idiot. He's beyond frustrated by three in the afternoon, and he keeps nicking himself on his claws because he's agitated enough they keep unsheathing even though he doesn't mean for them to. It's probably a good thing they told all of the others he was sick, at least that should mean any delay in his work gets chalked up to him probably being hopped up on medicine.

Snowball doesn't know anything about their work, they don't really have an understanding of much outside of his and Duster's relationship, they just know that their work is important to them and they support it wholeheartedly. But they do still make him stop to have lunch and make sure he's drinking plenty of water and not just caffeine as the day goes on. And when five o'clock rolls around, they start to urge him to wrap up what he's doing so that he can wind down. Normally, they might run him a bath, but after this morning, Snowball instead puts away his laptop before he can protest, and then flutters over with the gift basket Tomura sent. The cat treats are actually for cat heteromorphs rather than actual animals, and that makes Dabi feel better about it when Snowball pulls him close and feeds him one.

He never really liked liver growing up, but the dried chicken liver she gives him is good. So is the chicken jerky, and when they offer him a chew stick that is saturated in catnip he's beyond happy to have that between his sharp teeth too. The catnip tastes like mint, but a bit more herbal, and he's nearly drooling as soon as he takes the first little nibble. He loves the catnip and he whines when Snowball takes it away after a few minutes before he's even halfway through the treat.

"But--"

"Tomura said to wait and see how you feel after having a little. Too much could upset your tummy, little one." He thought there was a note with the gift basket earlier, and he regrets not stealing it before the moth could read it.

Dabi tries to reach for it back anyway, "Tomura's not here."

They hold it out of his reach and drop a kiss against his nose. "How about Mommy takes you to bed and spoils you until dinner if you can be a good, patient kitty? I know today was so long for you, little one." They lean in and flick their antennae over his cat ears again and Dabi can't help it when he immediately starts to purr.

He gives up on the catnip, knowing that Snowball will give it back if he's on his best behavior, and leaning in to rub his cheek against hers instead. It's not something he's ever done before, but it feels good, right, as he puts his scent on her skin. "Okay Mommy," this had been so embarrassing at first too, just like calling Tomura 'Daddy', but he hadn't had too much time to linger on it. Not when Snowball was so bound and determined to make sure he was feeling good when Tomura couldn't.

And having Snowball have this kind of body means that he gets to do things that he can't with Duster. Snowball doesn't have any qualms about pegging him, eating him out, sucking his cock, whatever, but having tits and a cunt means that their body offers him things that he would have been happy to give up forever to stay with Tomura, he just doesn't have to now. They chitter at him, an insectoid sound that he's growing used to as they pull him over to the bed, getting him stripped out of his clothes before they lay on their back, their wings spread wide. Snowball barely wears clothes unless asked, and they easily use one set of hands to slip their panties over their legs as the other set of arms reach for him. They pull him into their embrace and start to give him kisses.

Their touches always start so soft, and one hand goes back into his hair to stroke and scratch around the base of his ears, another running down his back to play with the place his tail connects with his spine. That takes Dabi's breath away. He hadn't really gotten a chance to play with any of the new parts of his body before Tomura had to leave, and the extra pressure there going along his spine makes him tremble and shiver, a purr starting in his chest and making Mommy smile sweetly at him.

She runs her hands along his seams and fur, creeping his temperature higher because she knows all of the places on his body that make him get warmer. And even though he's laying over her, he feels so small and soft, completely enveloped in her. He never had a femdom before, absolutely never had a dom who wasn't a sadist-- Tomura, for all he takes care of him, does enjoy making him suffer a bit first-- but Snowball only cares about making sure he feels good. And she knows he never feels better than when he knows he's being good and knows that he doesn't have to make any decisions at all. That he can just float and not have to worry about being perfect, taking care of himself, or be scared that he'll make the wrong choice.

"You're such a pretty kitten, sweetheart." Snowball purrs, a hand stroking along his tail dances sharp nails lightly over his stomach, making him twitch with how ticklish that feels, before their fingers are trailing along his hardening cock. He moans weakly, rubbing himself against their hand and up between their thighs. But he doesn't try to grind against their pussy yet. Mommy hasn't given him permission for that, just letting himself get close as his cock hardens the rest of the way. "That's it, little one. You're being such a good boy remembering the rules." They stroke their hand through his fringe, pushing it back enough to press plush lips against his forehead. "I think my little one has earned a treat, especially after all his hard work."

Dabi whimpers as his cock twitches and he inches it just a bit higher, just enough he can feel the softness of her folds and the heat at her center. "Thank you, Mommy."

They tug at his tail lightly and he lets out a little yowl as that puts a harder pressure that he knows could turn to very sharp pain if they did it any more roughly under his skin. But he understands that isn't the treat he's going to get right now, and stops, waiting patiently for what he is going to be given instead. Snowball strokes his hair and scratches behind his ears until all he knows is that perfect, soothing touch as it saturates his body with a slow, heavy heat that has him vibrating with how deep and loudly he's purring. He's so deeply distracted by how good that feels he is confused when his head is guided lower.

He blinks blearily up at Snowball and gets another of those slow, sweet smiles before she coaxes him to one of her breasts. He purrs even louder, nuzzling at her skin, distantly confused for a second because they seem... bigger than when he did this before. Maybe they are. Maybe they gave themself some extra dimension when they took shape this morning and he hadn't noticed then because he'd been half asleep. He doesn't really care as he presses his own kisses along the swell of them, his purrs going louder when Mommy trembles slightly beneath him and he feels wetness starting to gather between their legs and smear against his cock where their plush thighs are holding him tight and warm.

He licks at their nipple, running his stud around the areola and flicking at the center until it's beaded and hard, not expecting how loudly Snowball moans as he does it. Mommy always makes more sounds in bed for him than Daddy does, but normally he still has to earn those noises. Are their tits more sensitive today too? Or does his tongue actually have a different texture from being so cat-like? He hadn't been able to tell himself, but he thinks cat tongues are rougher. Maybe his tongue feels like sandpaper against their sensitive skin. He is about to pull away to ask if something hurts-- Snowball is horrible about establishing any kind of boundary because he's their 'purpose'-- but their hand threads through the hair at the nape of his neck and pulls him in closer. He flicks his tongue over them lightly again and then gives a soft, tentative suck.

And his mouth floods with sweet, warm fluid that startles him, immediately making him want to pull away. The hand on the back of his neck holds him still as his mind cycles through his shock and he realizes that his mouth is full of milk. His eyes flick up to hers and Snowball smiles at him sweetly and strokes his hair.

"Daddy thought his kitten would like to have some cream while he was gone." She purrs.

For a long second Dabi considers tapping out, pulling away, spitting out the liquid in his mouth. There's a squirming, shaky something in him that tells him that he should do any-- or maybe all-- of those things. He's not an infant, and he's not a cat. He's a grown ass man and he doesn't think that he should have ever tasted breast milk as an adult. But that's the same kind of knee-jerk reaction that had made him want to reject Tomura and Snowball in the first place. He didn't want to like the things he liked at first, they were too humiliating, too 'deviant', even for someone like him. And he'd been wrong about those thoughts that had kept him from letting himself find pleasure in his life for so long.

Dabi swallows the milk in his mouth and then licks around Snowball's nipple again, tasting the little droplets of fluid clinging to their skin. And then he gives another hesitant little suck. Their wings flutter, their eyelashes too, as they let out a soft purr and stroke the fur of his ears. "That's it little one, you're being such a good boy for Mommy."

And whatever hesitation he had before leaks out of his ears along with what's left of his brain. He moans, sending the vibrations of it through their skin, and starts to suck properly. Each time he does the other's tit spills more sweet milk into his mouth. It's thinner than milk he's had before and it's almost compulsive for him to keep sucking and swallowing it away as he closes his eyes and lets himself get lost in the taste and feel of Snowball's hands stroking his hair and fur.

It doesn't take long for him to be so lost in it that when Mommy tugs on his hair a bit, making him pull away, he's panting, and whining, not wanting to stop. But she doesn't make him, just shifts him to the other side so that he can give her other full breast the same treatment. And that shift of their bodies reminds him of how hard he is, still nestled between her soft thighs, slicker now with his pre and her fluids as they mingle on her skin. He rubs his cock between her legs again and she shivers before she has him latched back onto her other nipple. Dabi can't help moaning again as he gets a fresh mouthful of fluid and gush of her slick over his cock.

"That's it little one," They purr, coaxing his hips into movement between their legs. They have him rubbing and rutting, trying his best to get more and feel good as quickly as possible. Broken rumbly purrs start to come out of his chest, his body feeling floaty and needy as he sucks at their skin, as their hands find all of the sensitive spots on his body, stroking along his tail to put pleasure along his spine the same as he's feeling at his root. It's all so good and sharply overwhelming as he laps up the milk spilling into his mouth. Little moans and whimpers are muffled against their skin as he moves faster and harder, again and again, trying to angle his hips higher.

Mommy is so mean to him when she waits until he's so desperate he's giving feline whines before she spreads her legs open enough for him to start to press his cock inside of her body. And that sensation, her muscles clenching around him as she brings one hand to the breast he's sucking on, squeezing in time with that movement between her legs and his suckling, sends a heavier stream of milk into his mouth, and Dabi, humiliatingly, can't hold on. He moans, trying to swallow the milk, trying to fight it, but he can't as his cock twitches and pulses his seed inside of her body. His orgasm makes him light-headed and he finds himself panting, just licking up the milk on Snowball's skin instead of really sucking to get more. His whole body is humming and he doesn't know how to get his floaty head back to making some kind of sense as Mommy shifts so his cock is out of her warmth again.

He mewls, his ears tacking back against his head as they reach down to his sticky, softening cock as they stroke him anyway. "Oh, kitten, you made so much cream too." They coo, "You liked Mommy's so much, why don't you drink up yours too?" They bring their cum stained fingers to his lips and he opens his mouth hazily for them. He can barely manage to keep a single coherent thought in his mind and he doesn't care if it's gross or dirty. He'll eat anything Mommy tells him to.

He licks at their skin, threading his tongue all the way between their fingers and sucking. His cum is so much saltier and bitter than Mommy's milk and he would rather have that on his tongue again, but he wants to be a good boy, especially as Mommy keeps playing with his soft cock and stroking his balls in their other hands. He's still so sensitive from his orgasm that every little touch is a horrible, confusing mix of pleasure-pain that has his breath hitching. But when he can't find any more of his cum on Snowball's fingers, he pulls away slightly mewling,

"Mommy--"

"What is it, sweetheart?"

He tries to twitch his hips away, "Hurts, Mommy."

"Oh, kitten," And their hand loosens, but the stroking doesn't stop, "I know baby, but don't you want to put your cute cock inside again? You need to be hard for that, little one." She says like he's helpless and young, and needs to be told slowly how things like this are supposed to work. Dabi whines like he's helpless too. It's so easy to let himself be small and warm with Tomura and Snowball. They both take over easily and make all of his decisions for him, and he's allowed to just listen for once. All he has to do is whatever they ask and he knows they won't ever ask him to do something that he can't deliver. They make him perfect when they're in bed together. "Is it too much right now, sweetheart?"

He nods weakly, nuzzling into their ruff with a little meow. He can't quite find his words, can't make sense of what he needs, just that he needs something and that Mommy will give it to him.

"Okay, little one." Their hands leave his cock and balls and stroke gently over his sides instead as their antennae kiss his hair, ears, and forehead. "Why don't you clean up the rest of your cream, and when you're all done, Mommy will give you more of hers?"

Dabi can't help purring loudly at the prospect, wanting to lick and suck at their tits again to get more of it now, but he knows what he needs to do to be perfect for Mommy now, and he pauses as he lifts his face out of their soft fur. Mommy's eyes are dark and strange, but they adore him as he peeks up at them. Two hands move away from other places along his body so that they can cup his cheeks in them, stroking over his staples gently, before they pull him into a kiss. It's beyond soft at first. Just the connection of their lips as sweet as possible, the pressure barely there, and that gentleness makes Dabi feel like he's going to fall apart into a million pieces. No one has ever been gentle with him in his life, and the gesture always makes him feel like he's going to turn into ash from how incandescent any small show of it makes him feel now. And when it deepens, when Snowball licks into his mouth, it makes him feel claimed.

He's beyond drunk on everything happening when she pulls away, gives the tip of his nose another peck, and then starts to coax him lower. He licks up the little dribbles of milk that leaked out from the seal of his lips while he had been so deep in his pleasure he hadn't been able to keep quiet, and Mommy laughs when his ears flick and tickle her along her ribs and stomach as he moves down between her legs. He can't stop himself from purring as he moves to her cunt. Always pretty, flushed pink, folds plump and shiny with slick, and today, with his cum dribbling out from her hole. He purrs and purrs as he leans in to start to lick along her lips, making his way slowly to her center.

Snowball's hand goes back to his hair, teasing his ears and making him purr louder with their mixed fluids behind his teeth. His purring puts vibrations against their skin and makes them gasp softly, rolling their hips into his face and smearing his chin with slick and cum. He wants that again, wants Mommy to use his body to feel good, wants them to show him that he's doing well for them. He starts to lick and suck gently, moving from their dripping hole up to their clit. The little bundle of nerves is flushed and swollen from how good Mommy is already feeling and he gives a few long, broad licks against the bud to give them as much sensation as he can. He wants to use his hands too, wants to keep rubbing there to make more of the soft, heavy breaths that Snowball is making, keep spilling out of them as he licks up the mess he made before. But he's so hazy and aroused that he can't make his new claws go away.

Dabi struggles, knowing what he needs to do to make it good for them, but not able to give the repeated motions he needs to against their clit and inside of their hole at the same time without his hands. He doesn't trust himself to not accidentally prick their skin with the razor-like claws, but after a moment, he curls his tail around his waist as his mouth goes back to their entrance, licking up the wetness there that eagerly coats his tongue. His soft tail rubs against their clit, and Dabi purrs as he finds he is able to control the appendage enough to give the same solid strokes as he would be able to manage with his fingers, curling his claws into his palms so that he can press his knuckles against the inside of their thighs. He holds them open as he starts to move his mouth and tongue against their body. He's as hungry for this, hungry for--

Mommy lets out a soft, happy sigh as she strokes his hair. "That's it, little prince, you're doing such a good job making Mommy feel good." He purrs so happily as he keeps doing it, eating up his cum until all he can taste is her slick as he presses his tongue inside and feels her warm, wet walls squeezing gently around his tongue like her body is kissing him again. His cock stings, still too sensitive, but filling again anyway because feeling her gush against him, seeing the way her chest moves as she takes shakier breaths, and how her fingers tighten in his hair to keep him in place as she begins to roll her hips to fuck herself open on his tongue, is such a sharp pleasure that his body can't ignore it.

A heavy fog blankets his mind as he licks and flicks his tail over them. Snowball sets the rhythm, they pull on his hair so that he takes his tongue out and moves it along them in broad stripes, stopping to pull his tail away to suckle at their clit and trace the tip of his tongue around it for a firmer pressure, before they bring his tongue back down to their entrance and let him fuck inside a few more times before they start the cycle again. Their breathing gets more labored, their hands on other parts of his body not really petting him anymore, but just holding on as their wings twitch against the bed and they pull their lower lip between their teeth.

His jaw hurts a little when Mommy's hips start to push harder, one hand moving to push his tail aside so that they can use their fingers against their clit for a firmer pressure as they start to move a little more roughly against his mouth. But he doesn't protest, purring as they use him to creep towards their climax. He keeps doing exactly what he was before, knowing that constant rhythm will be what pushes them over. And soon, Mommy lets out a loud, pretty moan as more hot slick gushes into his mouth and over his chin. Dabi mewls, unable to stop himself from rubbing his cock against the sheets as his arousal burns so hot through his veins again.

She shivers against the sheets, wings giving slow little flaps as she pets him more gently. Her breathing evens out as his grows more erratic, as he mewls and meows, looking up to see more milk dripping slowly out of her flushed, beaded nipples. Her eyes open again and she smiles down at him.

"Okay, little prince, come here." She pulls him up, wiping his chin a bit as she laughs, before cupping around the back of his neck again. Her other hands go to his cock, his hips, and guide him to her entrance. She sinks him inside, wrapping her strong thighs around his hips to keep him in place at the same time as she lets him latch back onto her tit. He loves the way Mommy's cunt tastes, but the milk is so sweet that he starts to purr even louder as he sucks and sucks.

His cock is squeezed and swallowed up by their warm insides, and he wants to move so badly, but he trembles as he holds himself still. He knows how to behave, and he knows he's not allowed to move unless he's given permission. Right now he just has to do his best to be good as he's spoiled just getting to be inside. Dabi has taken several deep pulls off of their skin before Mommy lets out an insect-like chitter and rolls their hips. He whines, eyes prickling with tears as he gets so desperate.

"Shh, it's alright, little one, you can move now."

The first thrust is desperate, a little too hard, a little too fast, and Mommy coos at him. They catch his hips and make him go at the pace they want, ensuring that he doesn't take too much too quickly, and making him slow down as he licks at their chest too. They bring him into a slow, steady pace that makes his body feel like it's getting hotter and hotter. It feels so good to be surrounded by their tight, wet warmth, the muscles inside so soft and squeezing every sensitive part of him. He doesn't know how his piercings must feel against their skin, but he knows that the way they're sucked at with each rolling thrust, puts stars sparking behind his eyes.

He feels drunk as he fucks into Mommy's soft cunt and sucks at the milk leaking out of her chest. It's dizzying to have the animal instinct, so much sharper now that he is a cat, butting up against his subspace and Dabi may be drowning. He whimpers and moans as Mommy reaches one hand off of the side of the bed, but he can't make sense of what she's doing until his ear twitches as he hears a bottle cap pop open. He dribbles milk out of his mouth as he moans loudly against her skin as cool, wet fingers reach back to his hole and start to stroke around his rim. Having that sensation along with everything else that is happening to his body makes him weak and pushes him closer to the edge. But the slow pace that Mommy keeps him at stops him from going over.

They circle his rim a few times, even teasing down his taint so that they can massage his balls too for a moment as he desperately tries to stay at the pace they want him at. He wants to cum, but he's not allowed to yet and it's making him ache for it. He mewls loudly when Snowball presses a finger inside, stroking his insides the way he's stroking theirs and making his legs tremble as he edges even closer. He can't help it when he moves a little harder as their finger is swiftly replaced by a little curved plug that is just a bit wider and made to press up against his prostate. Dabi pulls off of their breast, licking up all of the mess he made as he moans against their skin.

"Wanna cum, Mommy." It's all instinct as he starts to rub his cheeks against their skin, desperate to have them smell as much like him as possible as he finally gives in and lets his hands uncurl, and finds a place against the sheets for him to begin to knead at a little roughly, his claws pricking at the fabric and adding that rhythmic sound to the symphony of purrs and other movements between their bodies. "Please, please, can I cum?" He begs, but the words give way to animal mewls and yowls as he feels the plug move inside of him again.

"Of course you can, baby. Mommy's sweet little kitten. Do you want to go faster, baby?"

He nods weakly and Mommy adjusts the pace, somehow getting even tighter around his cock as she lets him thrust into her body and back against the plug. His tail tilts up and curls and straightens as his balls start to get tighter and tighter. It's two of her hands going to them that is the final sensation that pushes him over the edge, and the moan he lets out as he cums deep inside, is more animal than human. He's shaking and absolutely planning to cuddle up into her ruff for as long as he's allowed, when Mommy pulls him out of her cunt far sooner than she usually does, usually letting him stay inside until he's too soft to stay put.

Dabi mewls in confusion as he realizes that Mommy's hands were on his balls because they were putting on his cock ring, pulling him out so they can put it around his base as well and making it ache as it traps his cooling blood inside. Snowball fucks into him with the plug as Dabi squirms and yowls, the pressure against his prostate going from pleasurable to sharp in an instant. But his body knows sharp and it knows the toys and no matter how the rest of his nerves scream that this is too much, too soon, his cock stays as hard as it was before he came and he whimpers, eyes prickling with tears as he goes so sensitive.

"M-Mommy--"

"I know, little one." She purrs, before she's using her many limbs to shift him. Dabi finds himself on his back, their wings flaring out behind them, as Snowball straddles his hips, dripping a mix of their fluids along his skin before they sink back down onto his stinging cock. The heat and pressure there again after having been forced to stay hard makes him keen. "But one more time," She leans down over him, catching the breast he hadn't been drinking from before and pressing her nipple between his lips. He tries to behave and sucks at the milk dribbling into his mouth, something soothing in the action even as his body is so tight and oversensitive as his cock is squeezed at. "And then we'll both be all out of milk, won't we, little prince?"

He isn't really given an opportunity to say anything. Mommy starts to rock their hips, making his entire body go tight with the too much rioting under his skin. They set the pace again, a little harder than before, with the movement on top of him keeping his cock deep and swallowed again and again with that over-sweet friction that has tears slipping down his cheeks. And it presses their tit harder to his lips, making more milk spill inside with each desperate, needy suck. He can't tell what he needs, what he wants anymore. He just knows that everything is so much. And Mommy will decide. Mommy will make sure he knows he's being good, will show him how he needs to act.

He clings desperately to one set of arms as she plays with his plug and another hand strokes his tail, touching him, fucking him, feeding him, until the world is nothing beyond the ways he's being completely enveloped in their body. Dabi is gone as his whole body creeps hotter and hotter.

It takes an eternity for him to get past the sharp oversensitivity and get to something that feels good. To be moaning, not just sobbing as Mommy bounces on his cock and he sucks on their tit. He feels his quirk going hotter, can smell smoke mingling with the smell of their sex, and knows that no matter what, he's only going to be able to hold out for a little longer. Mommy knows it too, pressing their lips to his forehead, blocking out his world to just their skin and fur, as they reach to undo the clasp of his cock ring. And then they start to move their hips much, much harder and faster. Taking his cock the way that Daddy likes to give him his and Dabi can only mewl and keen a few more times before he's accidentally scratching along Mommy's arms. They let out a loud moan as they use his cock to fill them, pushing in hard and angling their hips so that he can feel that spongier texture of their g-spot against his cock, and the hot gush of their fluids soaking him again sends Dabi over the edge too.

He feels drenched and drained, his cock, his cheeks covered in his bloody tears, his chin and lips a mottled mix of saliva, slick, and milk, and Mommy just chitters and purrs at him as they pull away from his mouth so that they can run their antennae along his ears and gathers him close. They've barely cleaned up the mess from his mouth as they get them both onto their sides so they can wrap their wings around him and pull his cheek into their ruff before Dabi is letting out a broken, uneven purr.

He doesn't hear if she joins in with the sound, he's gone the second he nuzzles in deeper.

///

Snowball makes him stay in bed all night, even once he takes a nap after being worked over so thoroughly.

"You need to stay close, little one, otherwise I may make a mess all over the sheets." She purrs, one hand going to her breasts again and giving a nipple a tug and squeeze. Dabi feels like he's out of his mind as he immediately mews and leans back in to lick away the little trickle of milk that drips out. She keeps him in bed and uses a clean damp cloth to clean up his skin so he doesn't have to fight the cat brain and go shower instead of feeling so soft and floaty. She has food sent to their room too, and she does make him eat something real eventually, before she cuddles up close with him. He purrs and purrs, kneading against her stomach with his fingers curled in so he doesn't cut her.

And when he feels overwhelmed and stressed the next day as he tries to get through his work, Snowball pulls him into bed again and overwhelms his body with softness until he's forced to let go again.

///

Dabi feels like a spoiled house cat by the end of the week, especially when, that morning, Snowball has hidden his laptop and phone. They don't budge on giving them back, just settling him down and brushing his hair. They get him into one of the frilliest sets of lingerie that he owns, and put on little frilly cuffs with bells on his wrists, and a ruff of his own made out of lace with a big gold bell around his neck. And then they sit down and make him put his head in their lap as they brush his hair and the fur along his ears and tail. For as much as he knows he should protest and get back to work, he can't bring himself to do it, instead purring and purring as he's allowed to just be soft and comfortable for a little while.

Dabi is half asleep when he hears the door handle click, and his ear twitches. The fur on his tail bristles slightly. No one comes to their door, no one tries to open it unless-- Tomura opens the door and starts to step inside, and Dabi is off of the bed like a shot. He's meowing, not even having room for words or to be embarrassed about how unabashedly excited he is to see his lover again, and immediately throws himself into his chest. Dabi starts to purr so loudly as he rubs his cheek and neck all over Duster's skin.

"Oh, kitten, did you miss me that much?"

Dabi tries to find room for words, but he can't. He just keeps rubbing his scent into Tomura's skin, trying to take away the smell of other that is clinging to him from his trip. Tomura catches him around the back of his neck and after a week of Mommy doing that to feed their tit between his lips, Dabi's mouth falls open with a mewl.

Tomura chuckles like he knows exactly why he did that, and instead presses a kiss to the staple cutting through the very edge of his lips. "I'll give you something to suck on, precious, you just have to let me get in the door." He teases. Dabi mewls, his body warming at the suggestion of getting to have his cock stretching his jaw after a whole week without it.

When they do make it back over to the bed, Snowball is nothing but a cute stuffed animal again, and Daddy is more than happy to take over giving his kitten some cream.

#shigadabi #my writing #mha fanfiction #fanfiction #oc: snowball

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tgmsunmontue · 2 months

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Saga of Solitude 9/21

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version). (Side Hangster, which is ALSO angsty).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002) FOUR (2003) FIVE (2004) SIX (2005) SEVEN (2006) EIGHT (2007)

CHAPTER NINE - 2008

He curls around the body in bed beside him, lets himself enjoy it, certain that the novelty will never wear off no matter how long they’re together. It probably helps that Maverick sometimes leaves for months at a time, so the little annoyances never make him lose his temper, rather remain little endearing traits that make him fondly smile instead of raging against him. Those times will come, he’s sure, but they’re probably a little while away given how stubborn Mav is. Right now they’ve got another week or so before Mav receives his new orders and Tom will soak up every available moment.

“Morning…”

“Morning.”

They move against each other quietly, slowly, both of them still half-asleep but happy to come to wakefulness like this, hands sliding over bare skin, lips leaving damp trails as they kiss and lick softly. Maverick’s hands pushing and pulling his pajama pants down, quiet curses under his breath that make Tom laugh silently. Mav is of course naked, his cock already rutting against Tom’s thigh and he skims a hand over the swell of his ass, encouraging him.

Neither of them have anywhere to be this morning, they have the luxury of time and also the knowledge that they won’t get interrupted. With them both in a bed and clearly wanting each other it’s a holy trifecta of sex now that they’re middle-aged adults with deployments and kids and levels or tiredness which often mean they might start off well meaning but can sometimes drift-off into slumber despite the best of intentions.

“What do you want?” Tom asks against the shell of Mav’s ear, because he will give him anything, and Mav knows it too, damn him.

“Want you to fuck my thighs.”

“You want me to do all the work,” Tom points out, but he’s quickly becoming more awake, it’s something he likes, and it’s not like there aren’t times when he gets to lie back and have Mav do all the work. They’ve been together for too long not to have figured out what works for them and what doesn’t.

“You’re the one who always gloats about being a morning person. Come on…”

He doesn’t need any encouragement, or in the case with Mav, goading. He bites down on his earlobe, grins around it when Mav jerks a little and presses Mav back into the bed so he can reach over him to grab the lube. Then he’s yelping as teeth catch one of his nipples and he glares down.

“Be nice.”

“Or what?”

“Or I won’t be nice…”

“That a promise or a threat?”

“I can make it both.”

“Oh…” Maverick’s breath catches and Tom smiles to himself.

Yeah, it’s going to be a very good morning.

… … …

Pete runs his finger over the empty space on Ice’s left ring finger, wonders if anyone would notice if they both started wearing wedding rings again. They could, they’ve both been married, even if technically he’s a widower and Ice is a divorcee. It would raise too many questions, if anyone noticed and asked. Still. One day though he fully intends to put a ring back on that finger as well as his own and never let it come off.

… … …

He’s in his office when he hears the commotion outside, Aubrey’s raised voice and… Maverick’s.

Shit.

He should have pre-empted this, knows Mav is starting to get itchy feet, he usually does after four weeks of leave. And it’s been six, so he is mellowing a little as he ages, but still, Tom could have planned better. He strides to the door and pulls it open, only to find Aubrey standing there, hands on her hips, Maverick looking just as combative and he looks between them calmly. They’re both looking at him, clearly wanting him to either pick a side or mediate a solution. He’s just not quite sure what they’re arguing about, the door too thick for him to have been able to make anything out so he decides that maybe introductions are in order.

“Aubrey, this is Captain Pete Mitchell. My best friend and also Bradley’s adoptive father.”

“Oh.”

“Maverick, this is my personal assistant, Aubrey Smythe.”

He can see her warring with herself, trying to decide whether to be polite, and Maverick also calming down as he realizes who she is.

“You ensure he eats lunch. Bradley told me.”

“Yes. I do try and ensure that happens.”

“Hmm. Keep trying. He’s stubborn.”

“That’s rich coming from you!”

The grin Maverick gives him makes his breath catch, god damn is Maverick beautiful and he hopes Aubrey isn’t quite as astute as he thinks she is. Or that she at least might not care and will keep whatever suspicions she might have after seeing him and Mav together firmly to herself.

“I’ll make sure he eats today. Although I leave on Tuesday, so it’ll be all down to you from then on,” Mav says, clearly trying to be charming and Aubrey just as clearly isn’t quite sure how to deal with him. She doesn’t offer to make Mav a drink and he guesses that’s her way of saying she’s annoyed. Tom just smiles to himself and excuses them, shaking his head but agreeing with Mav when he mutters something about her not liking him.

“A lot of people don’t like you. And I’m sure Aubrey will come around. Next time ask to see me, rather than demand it. Or, and I know this is a foreign concept, arrange to have lunch with me in advance so I can put it in my calendar.”

“You’re right, it is a foreign concept. But I’m here to talk about this,” Mav says, pulling papers from his jacket pocket. Tom wonders briefly if Pete would have had a better impression on Aubrey if he’d been in uniform rather than his civvies, bomber jacket and all. “I’m getting deployed to Bradley’s squadron. Did you organize this?”

His head shoots up.

“What? No.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“You thought I’d pulled strings?”

“Well, you know I miss him.”

“I do know that,” Tom says carefully. “I also know that he’s a fully grown adult and does not need you peering over his shoulder. It never occurred to me that you should be deployed together. They generally… don’t do that. For obvious reasons.”

“Stupid reasons.”

Tom sighs, because part of him agrees. The bonds that form between squadron members are usually very tight, and he knows from experience that some will take risks regardless. Just because someone loves someone doesn’t mean they will take more risks to keep them safe. The idea of Maverick flying with Bradley makes him excited for them, knowing that they’re both good, but also he worries that they’ll both take unnecessary risks to ensure the other is safe.

“You need to trust him to keep himself safe.”

“Of course.”

… … …

He hears the rumors over breakfast, his cup of coffee halfway to his mouth when he hears Maverick mentioned, almost-whispered, and his stomach sinks. His first and most immediate thought is that something has happened. But no, instead of somber looks there’s an air of anticipation and he leans over and asks what they’re talking about, shuffles a little so he’s facing them.

“What about Maverick?”

“Apparently he –”

“Wait, isn’t he…”

“What?”

“Adams heard that Maverick is part of the squadron arriving today.”

“What?”

“Three air-to-air kills. Man’s a legend.”

“Isn’t he your…”

“My what?” Bradley asks.

“Your dad?”

That makes everyone around him go silent, and of course it’s the Navy, so even much guarded secrets are fucking known by everyone. He grins and shrugs, because yeah, Mav is his dad for all intents and purposes for those looking in from the outside. And his phone call last year when Mav had been in Bagram, or the fact that Mav had been there when he graduated USNA and then flight school all add to the fact the it’s not even really something he tries to keep now.

“Yeah. Step-dad. He married my mom after my dad passed away but I’ve known him my whole life. He flew with my dad.”

�� “Wait. He married his wingman’s wife?”

“Uh, my dad was his RIO. And it’s not like my dad was around to care, there was time between my dad dying and then Mav marrying my mom…”

The expression on some of their faces makes him roll his eyes. He can’t go into details about exactly what kind of marriage it was, not that it’s any of their business. Anyway, he’s got more exciting things to think about.

Holy shit, he’s going to fly with Mav.

… … …

It’s weird, he’s not sure how to act for the first few minutes and then relaxes, falls into the habit of years of training has drilled into him. Of course, it’s all ruined when Maverick fucking winks at him and he rolls his eyes. Unfortunately his CO has catches the eyeroll and is now frowning at him and Bradley feels an uneasy twist in his stomach.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw. A word please.”

“Yes sir.”

He steps to the side, can feel eyes on him, including Mav’s.

“Do you have a problem with Captain Mitchell?”

“No sir?”

“That sounded like a question Lieutenant.”

“Sir. Can I ask a question sir?”

“Go ahead Lieutenant.”

“Are you aware that Captain Mitchell is my step-father sir?”

It’s immediately obvious that his CO is somehow completely in the dark about his relationship to Maverick, so maybe the Navy grapevine isn’t as good as he thought.

“I rolled my eyes at him because he winked at me sir. Because he’s Maverick Mitchell.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry this is a surprise to you sir. I only found out this morning myself.”

“Are you going to have a problem serving with him?”

“Sir, he’s my superior officer when he’s in uniform. Not my father. Surely this isn’t the first case of parents and children serving together?”

His CO opens his mouth and then closes it again, clearly doesn’t know the answer. He does however seem to accept Bradley’s words at face value and nods sharply.

“Well… it might be a little odd. But please bring any concerns to me directly. Your father doesn’t outrank me.”

“Of course not sir,” Bradley says, thinking about Ice and also the fact that if anything it’s going to be him trying to keep Mav in line.

… … …

After seeing Bradley get called out for the eyeroll Pete ensures he’s on his best behavior. The last thing he wants is to have Bradley tarred with his reputation, he knows how difficult that is and he understands more now why Bradley had wanted to distance himself while he was at USNA. He can make his own way. He flies perfectly, they both do. Nothing happens that even needs a slight modicum of risk and he doesn’t even do a tower fly-by. Ice would be proud. Of course, on the carrier is a different story and he pranks Bradley mercilessly, along with the others in both squadrons. Only Bradley is brave enough to prank him back, his rank likely a barrier but it’s the most fun he’s had on a carrier since he was younger than Bradley and it reminds him of why he’s still in the Navy. This feeling and the fact he gets to be paid to fly.

… … …

“We have a guest, he’s requested to eat meals with some of the Fighting Redcocks. You specifically Bradshaw,” his CO states after he’s pulled him aside, and Bradley is glad that Mav has been on his best behavior and that everything has gone smoothly.

“Of course sir. May I ask who it is?”

“Rear Admiral Kazansky. Not another family member I hope?”

Bradley freezes and his CO is not a stupid man, has definitely clocked Bradley’s moment of sheer panic. He hasn’t had to deal with questions like this since his days at USNA, and never from a superior officer.

“I… yes sir. I lived with him and his wife when Maverick was deployed. He’s like an uncle to me.”

“Oh. Of course he is. Does everyone know?”

“No sir. I try and keep my family ties to myself. It’s… generally easier this way sir.”

“Hmm. Smart of you I guess. He and Maverick must be very proud of you. You’re a damn fine aviator.”

“I try sir. They’re always pushing me to be better.”

“I just bet they are. Actually Lieutenant, knowing your tie to Admiral Kazansky is something of a relief. It means he’s here to see you, and not me or my ship. Just a social visit.”

“Well sir, I don’t know if Ice ever stops working. He’s nothing if not efficient.”

“You have a good point. But maybe don’t call Admiral Kazansky by his callsign if you’re trying to keep your relationship with him quiet, hmm?”

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

… … …

“Admiral Kazansky. Nice to see you.”

“Captain Mitchell. I haven’t heard any complaints about you, you must be on your best behavior.”

“I always am sir.”

Bradley blinks, feeling a little weirded out by their completely polite and professional conversation, even if Mav is smirking about being on his best behavior. They’re clearly friendly, but they haven’t touched, or even shaken hands. Hell, Maverick gave him a salute when he’d arrived. Of course, so had Bradley, but… Of course. They’re not overly affectionate with each other at home either and this right here drives it home to him why. This is how they can be together while also serving in the Navy. No one knows. No one even suspects because they’re both hiding it. Even maybe hiding it from each other he thinks. Have hidden it with marriages and hidden it from him until he was older.

Fuck he wishes things were different for them.

… … …

“What are you really doing here?”

“Catching up with an old friend.”

“Really?”

“Aubrey suggested it. Well. She arranged the entire thing and then presented it to me as a fait accompli so I didn’t actually have much choice. Apparently I was becoming insufferable.”

“Knew I liked that woman,” Mav murmurs under his breath and Tom raises an eyebrow, because he’s pretty sure Mav wants to like her, but she’s damned good at acting as gatekeeper for his time, had stopped Maverick from barging in twice in just the last week before he’d left.

“She is worth every penny the Navy is paying her, and then worth twice as much again.”

“I’d be jealous, except I know I couldn’t do her job.”

“We all have our own strengths. It feels good being out here…”

“Yeah? Sea breeze in your hair?”

“Mmm. I miss it some days. Like breathing…”

“You want to go up? I’ll take you up.”

“If I go, up I’ll be flying myself thank you.”

“Yeah? You thinking about it?”

“No. Not right now…” Tom says, but an idea is formulating in his mind, wondering what it would take to make it happen. He definitely wants to fly with Mav again though. He’ll make it happen.

… … …

He reads the news and blinks. Gay marriage has been legalized in Connecticut. It doesn’t mean anything of course, neither of them will risk their careers but it also gives him a little flare of hope that the world is changing.

… … …

“Look… have you considered you’re not exactly impartial?” Ron asks over the rim of his glass and Tom scowls.

“I know I’m not impartial. That’s kind of the whole point.”

“Well. Yes and no. I think you’re over-correcting, over compensating so no-one will accuse you of playing favorites, of Bradley, or of nepotism.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Take the name off all these files. Look at them based on pure merit, remove your emotion and then rank them.”

“What would that prove?”

“That you’re being too hard on your own kid. Holding him up to what you or Mav are capable of and forgetting you’ve both got decades of experience on him. You need to compare him with his peers, not with you, or your peers. Give him another decade and then you can start doing that.”

Tom stares at the pieces of paper in front of him and realizes the truth, that Bradley is indeed already accomplished for his age and rank. The amount he’s been pushing hasn’t been necessary at all, Bradley has already been exceeding expectations in every field. He’s yet to turn down any training opportunity, is sought after because his attitude is good and his team-player approach helps struggling squadrons bond. He’s got all the people skills both his parents had in spades.

Shit. Him and Mav are both guilty of this.

“Mmm… I like this.”

“What? The whiskey?”

“No. The look on your face when you realize I’m right.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

After this there will be 2009, but also a stand-alone (already completed 4-part Hangster fic) HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009) which happens pretty much in September 2009, so Saga of Solitude Chapter 10 covers the time before and after.

CHAPTER TEN

#Saga of Solitude #IceMav #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction

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