#poor little freak (affectionate)

[foodtruckery]

I left a comment on Combat Baby because that fic is so awesome, but I’m here because I’m thinking about Stan in short short again. Ford would go insane, especially if Stan was wearing them *in public* where everyone can see what’s *his*. I think it’s even funnier if they’re both aware of their feelings but think the other isn’t into them/aware, so Ford is gripping his hands trying to act like normal brother and like he doesn’t want to rail Stan 10 ways to Sunday so everyone knows he’s taken. Meanwhile Stan is like “God I’m such a freak for wanting Ford to think I’m hot-“

I REMEMBER YOU GUEST ANON! and omg thank you so much for the kind words again, truly!! and this is. lol. maybe not exactly what you asked for, and i'm sorry for that, but i HAVE been thinking about the damn short shorts since you first commented and this is what we ended up with hahaha! i wrote this with either 30's stan & ford in mind or 30's stan and 60's ford, but hey, y'all read whatever you wanna read!

"Oh, hey, I couldn't find the exact coffee you mentioned on the list, but I grabbed something that seemed close? Got a small bag, so if it's shitty, we won't have too much of it to get through, but I figured somethin' was better than nothin' on the coffee front."

Ford was certain that in any other circumstances, he would be annoyed by that. There were complaints swimming up in the back of his mind - Did you even look? Did you bother to ask an associate? - but they slid away before he'd even tried to form any words. That was probably for the best. His tongue felt leaden and too thick in his mouth, and he wasn't sure he would be able to make it cooperate enough to speak if he'd tried. Even getting a short sound of acknowledgement out was more difficult than it should have been. 

When Ford didn't throw a fit over the coffee, Stan continued on, describing some additional adjustments he'd made to the shopping list and what he was planning to cook for dinner. Ford didn't really hear any of it. Hell, he couldn't even remember why he'd come upstairs in the first place. A question, probably, considering the sound of Stan coming back to the cabin and putting away groceries had drawn him to the kitchen in the first place. 

But he'd walked in, caught sight of his brother stashing jars and cans in an overhead cabinet, and his brain had started slowly filling with static. 

The crop top was bad enough. He'd seen it several times at this point –  enough times that he should be well used to the damn thing by now. But it was hard not to be distracted by the soft, exposed stretch of Stan's midsection or the way the hair on his stomach tapered down into the band of his pants. 

Jeans usually. It was usually jeans. Stan  had a tendency to spend the evenings around the cabin in his boxers, but Ford had only ever seen him pair the too-short t-shirt with jeans. 

He was not wearing jeans today. He was wearing a pair of shorts. 

A pair of shorts that pinched around his full waist and made his stomach spill over the elastic. 

A pair of shorts that stopped alarmingly high on Stan's thighs, exposing nearly every inch of hair and skin on his legs. 

A pair of shorts that fit just a shade too tight around Stan's ass, and were borderline indecent when he bent over to put something in the fridge. 

A pair of shorts that belonged to Ford. 

The realization hit him with all the subtlety of a taser, burning across his skin and threatening the stability of his knees. 

"Do you already have a place where you're keepin' shit like–"

"Where did you find those?" 

Ford wasn't sure if it was the fact that he hadn't spoken at all since he'd come into the kitchen, or if it was the raggedness of his voice, but Stan jerked his head up from the bag he'd been pulling non-perishables from. 

"What?" 

"Your–" Ford's voice stuck on the back of his tongue, and he worked his throat until he managed to swallow, curling his fingers over the back of the nearest chair to make sure he stayed upright. "Those shorts. Are those mine?" 

Stan frowned at him, confused, before glancing down at himself. "Oh! Yeah, I think so? I mean, I found 'em in the back of a drawer upstairs. It's like a hundred goddamn degrees out there, and all I got on me is denim right now."

Ford felt like someone was holding a livewire to his hypothalamus. 

"You– You wore those, my shorts, out? In public?" 

Stan squinted at him. "Yeah. Isn't that what I said?" and then, when Ford didn't respond right away, Stan shifted uncomfortably. "Uhh....shit. I'm sorry? I hadn't seen you wearing 'em or anything, so I didn't think you'd care if I borrowed them."

Ford could feel where his nails were digging impressions into the chair's finish, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from the shadow of Stan's bulge, entirely too apparent in those little green shorts. He'd been outside in those. In town, even. He'd gone grocery shopping in half of a shirt and shorts that had been snug on Ford before he'd even gotten his second PhD. 

Who had he run into? Even if the store had been completely empty otherwise, there would at least have been a cashier to see his brother parading around like an exhibitionist. And the odds were entirely too high that other patrons would have been present. 

Since Stan had arrived in Gravity Falls, he had better inundated himself with the townsfolk over several weeks than Ford had ever managed (or tried to manage) over several years. It made sense, Stan had always been the "people person" between them. But Ford also noticed the way Susan Wentworth always found a reason to nudge Stan's arm or pat his shoulder when they stopped by the diner. He saw the way Greg Valentino stole too many lingering glances when he thought he wasn't being observed in turn. 

Had either of them been there? Would Greg have seen him crouching down to puruse a lower shelf? If so, it would be impossible not to see the full shape of Stan's ass and the impression of his sack squeezed into so little material. Had Susan been shopping at the same time? Would she have devised a reason to put her hand against the exposed skin on Stan's waist to shuffle past him?

"Jesus Christ, are you havin' a stroke over there or what, Sixer?" 

Stan's voice snapped Ford out of the lurid green hypotheticals, and he cleared his throat. "I'm fine."

"Fine? You sure about that?" Stan said, sounding unconvinced and unimpressed. "Look, I said I was sorry about wearing your dumb shorts. Can I at least finish putting the damn groceries away, or are you gonna stand there scowling until I change?"

"No!" Ford said, entirely too quickly if the single eyebrow creeping up Stan's forehead was anything to go by. "I mean, you don't have to change. I was just...surprised."

"Yeah, I'll say," Stan snorted, turning back to the last bag of groceries. "Dinner plans all right at least?"

Ford ran his tongue out over his lips when Stan turned to the cupboard. He watched the green material shift with his stretching, the white piped hem hiking up just a hair too close to the curve of his ass. 

"Yes, sure." 

"And ya don't care about the coffee?" Stan asked, and Ford swallowed down hard on whatever noise tried to crawl up his throat when Stan adjusted the waistband of the shorts, pulling the material briefly higher and tighter.

"Hmm? No, I don't believe so..."

Ford very nearly had to reach down and adjust himself in the confines of his own pants when Stan leaned over and reached for something on the kitchen counter, giving Ford almost enough room to peek under the hem of those god forsaken shorts. It was a miracle he hadn't pulled up curls of varnish with his nails already. 

"You gettin' a good look back there?" Stan asked, shifting his weight between his feet in a way that made the shorts creep up between his thighs. 

"Yes, of course I– Stan!" Ford choked when the question caught up to him, and he could feel heat burning up his throat and across his face. 

Stan was smirking at him from over his shoulder now, giving his ass a much more deliberate wiggle. "Christ, Sixer, you are not subtle at all." 

Ford stammered, trying to think beyond the curl of Stan's lips and the crease at the top of his thighs that he could just make out. 

"...Jesus, you're also thick," Stan muttered to himself before reaching back and plucking pointedly at the waistband of the shorts. "You gonna come over here and see what's under them, or what?" 

"Oh..oh!" Ford realized, clearing his throat, though it did little to help how rough his voice felt when he finally rounded the chair. "God, yes." 

[jakeperalta]

my only oscar nominations opinion is that they cannot let rdj win for supporting actor... I'd already forgotten about his performance 10 minutes after leaving the cinema literally when I heard he was a frontrunner this award season I was like "huh I didn't know he was still doing movies"

[machveil]

Off-Putting!Simon Riley with a Reader that matches his freak

Off-Putting!Simon Riley that stares at you like you’re a figment of his imagination. you’re poking around in the kitchen making a quick lunch while Simon’s cleaning dishes— well, he was. he paused when he felt the urge to look at you. he’s been lazily rinsing the same dish for two minutes, looking at you through his pale eyelashes as you quietly move about. he snaps out of it a minute later, your back is to him, but you’ve felt his eyes on you the whole time, “You can keep looking, Simon, just turn the faucet off.”

Off-Putting!Simon Riley that holds you a little too tight. his touch is always loving, but once in a while his blunt nails dig into your skin. small red marks from his fingers pads gripping the fat of your hips around the house left in his wake. in public he’ll do the same, no regard for how it might look to others, his eyes are solely on you. and, oh, Simon adores when you’re affectionately rough with him. he’s taken to wearing t-shirts around you, faded teeth indents littering his biceps from when you’ve felt the need to nip and gnaw at him

Off-Putting!Simon Riley that follows you around the grocery store, he’s been keeping a small distance - idly following you while passersby glance at him. you like it when he shadows you, standing at the edge of the aisle you’re in. he only comes up to you when a man approaches, the poor guy telling you he there’s some ‘strange man’ stalking you through the store. Simon’s suddenly beside you, dark eyes glaring at him as you smile, “Oh— thanks, this is my husband.”, you laugh, smitten when you look up at your Simon

[yandere-daydreams]

an extended version of this post. hold your plushies tight tonight, folks.

The Yan!JJK Men With a Stuffed Animal Loving Darling.

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, and Toji.

TW: Kidnapping, Stalking Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Non/Con, Non-Wholesome Activities Involving Stuffed Animals, and Generalized Freak Shit Activity.

Gojo likes to touch.

He just can't help it. He's never been able to keep his hands off of you, and that means he also can't keep his hands off of your used chapstick and dirty laundry and those cutesy, beady-eyed plushies you keep piled up in every corner of your bedroom - the ones he knows you cuddle to sleep every night, even if you deny when he asks. He likes to keep track of which is your current favorite, which one you're most likely to gravitate towards when you want something soft to hold - mostly just to keep track of your preferences, but also to know which member of your oh-so-precious, oh-so-cherished collection to target when he feels like there's been a little too much distance between the two of you, lately.

You might complain that he's too clingy, that he's too affectionate, that you don't want people to start to think you're anything more than friends, but your stuffed animals don't whine when he tears hole in the bottom of your current favorite and pumps all of his unappreciated affection into its poor, velvet-soft insides. That way, even when you're too cold-hearted to let Gojo cuddle you to sleep, you'll still have a little piece of him in your arms <3

Geto likes to keep his distance.

He's possessive by nature, but you already know that, wouldn't have ended up locked away in some secluded portion of his temple if he wasn't. He tries to be kind, to be considerate, to not let how tightly you cling to that threadbare childhood toy bother him, but it's difficult for him - it'd be difficult for anyone to see the person they love most show more affection to a filthy rag than they do to their doting captor lover, when you embrace that thing so tenderly while flinching away every time he attempts to touch you.

So, he does what he's sure you'd prefer, and he keeps his distance. Specifically, he resigns himself to an arm chair no less than ten whole feet from your shared bed as he tells you exactly how he wants you to hump your beloved childhood stuffed animal, what part of it he wants you to grind against until you soil on the very item you seem so intent on preserving over and over and over again, until he's had his fill. It's not that he doesn't want to touch you - no, he'd do anything to be able to kiss the tears off of your cheek as you hiccup out another fractured sob, to shove his cock down your throat as you mutter little, trembling apologies to an inanimate object - but apparently, he's not the one you want to be spending time with. He can only hope you'll have changed your mind, by the time he's ruined your little companion entirely.

Nanami likes to watch.

To be completely honest, he could care less about your preference towards stuffed animals. It's not that he doesn't find it endearing, but there are plenty of adults who like to collect cute things. You're nothing out of the ordinary - at least, not when it comes to what you do in your free time.

But, he does find it convenient - just how willing you are to accept anything cute and plush and pastel into your home without a second thought. It's difficult to find something that suits your tastes while still being large enough to store and hide a camera, but difficult doesn't mean impossible, and it only takes a few days' worth of effort before his velvet-soft, pastel pink teddy bear is posed happily on your bedside table and he's got a 24/7 view into the moments too private for you to knowingly share with him. He knows it's only a temporary solution, that either his camera will malfunction or you'll notice the strange bulkiness of your newest stuffed animal or he'll get tired of watching from a distance, but that's alright. Cameras can be replaced, paranoia can be soothed, and eventually, he won't have to resign himself to only watching, anymore.

Sukuna likes to dismember.

Piece by piece, limb by limb, thread by thread, preferably while you sob and claw at his wrists and beg him to stop. While other partners might be amused by such a childish pastime, you shouldn't need pastimes at all when you're with Sukuna - not when your attention is better off entirely devoted to him. He might soften later on, suggest you take an interest in something more appropriate for the lover of a king, but that'll only come after he's dismantled everything that's ever stolen your gaze away from him with a gleeful sort of malice. If you're tempted to point out his hypocrisy, mention that he's spent every second of every minute of his life indulging himself in every petty impulse that's ever passed across his mind, don't. Challenging his inclination towards destruction, however justified your complaints might be, will only make him more tempted to show you just how much of your life he can tear to pieces.

Toji likes to tease.

Despite everything, he might be the most likely to indulge your little fixation. He's too cocky to ever be jealous of material and stuffing, and he thinks it's cute - how tightly you cling to something that could never actually protect you from him, how reflexively you hide your face in the nearest swatch of faux fur whenever he gets a little too rough. When he inevitably decides you're too delicate to be left on your own, he might even get you a couple new stuffed animals as a 'welcome home' gift. He's just a considerate guy, like that.

And when he's got you face down, ass up, clinging to the plushie he all-but forced into your arms as soon as he decided he was going to fuck you brainless, he'll only degrade you a little for being such an empty-headed slut, so pretty and so stupid that no one ever had the heart to tell you that you're too old to be playing with toys. He'll coo and pout as you moan and sob into silky fur, asking why you suddenly 'don't like daddy's present' when you try to put any amount of distance between you and him (and, by association, the toy he's got you trapped against), and when you finally lose consciousness still holding onto your stuffed animal, he'll make sure to snap a few pictures; just a little something to show you when you wake up and want nothing to do with your new favorite plushie. You're lucky he's as nice as he is, as generous as he is. Anyone else would lose patience, but Toji's just gotta spoil his baby <3 <3 <3

[sweetiecutie]

Hi!

I fell in love with ur underbedmonster!simon au!

And I am sure everybody else fell in love with it.

Can we get some more stories with monster simon? If it's no problem, of course :)))

Love your work btw <33

A/n: sure you can, I think that this trope is my new obsession🫣☺️

Warnings: smut, mdni, possessiveness, monsterfucking, tentacle fucking

Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 4

Underbed monster! Simon who was slightly startled by such sudden change in your aura - once sugary sweet and syrupy turned into bitter and pungent, causing creature to sputter and hiss begrudgingly at the taste, his ears (or whatever that was that he had) straining to hear any words coming from you that could explain this drastic shift in your emotions.

Underbed monster! Simon who listened attentively as you spoke on the phone with your best friend, choking on your own tears and sobs as you told them how you broke up with your now ex boyfriend, about the ugly fight you had, how he called you numerous names, shattering your heart in million pieces just with his cruel words.

Underbed monster! Simon who felt rage simmering somewhere deep within him. How dare that pathetic scumbag treat you like that!? Yes, Ghost did torture you with horrible nightmares quite a few dozens times, but you were his human, his to scare, his to taunt, his to fuck, no one else’s. He felt possessive and angry, he wanted to soothe your poor little heart, to make all the pain go away so you could feed him more and more of that honey-like energy that your pleasure exuded.

Underbed monster! Simon who finally decided to take matters into his own hands after keeping a close eye on you when your state didn’t seem to get any better. Ghost sneaked out some of the sweets from kitchen to your bedroom so you had something to munch on, making you confused as to how those candies seemed to magically appear on your bedside. Simon tried keeping the house tidy and clean for you in hopes that it’ll make you get better soon, he even did your laundry once, causing you to freak out at the sight of your clothes, freshly washed and still damp, hanging off the rope to dry out.

Underbed monster! Simon couldn’t be more happier, watching your attention finally shift from your shithead ex to him. Simon was purposefully lurking right in the corner of your vision, making his presence in the house way more obvious. He watched with fierce amusement as you grabbed the sharpest knife from the kitchen, inspecting every nook and cranny of the house, not finding any signs of intrusion or anything that could’ve given a clue about another person’s presence, scrunching up your pretty eyebrows in confusion.

Underbed monster! Simon who fully revealed himself for the first time in your dream, standing in his full glory in front of small scared you, your breathing quickening in your sleep as you inspected his tall dark form, two red eyes glaring down at you from above. You felt paralysed as you watched this creature raise its smokey limb that slightly resembled human arm, cold tentacle fingers brushing your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear affectionately. And all of the sudden all fear and anxiety vanished, leaving place for curiosity and amazement as you studied monster’s features closer, not feeling threatened nor endangered by him. Slowly its mouth opened - even blacker that the rest of him, his voice clear and lucid, ringing right inside of your head “Wake up”

Your eyes snapped open - you were laying in your bed still, crumpled sheets dug into your back unpleasantly but you couldn’t care less as you stared straight into those crimson orbs, cold tentacles slithering up and down your sides, wrapping tighter around your limbs, immobilising you completely. Underbed monster! Simon just purred audibly at your obedience and lack of resistance, branching a few more extremities to slip under the hem of your pyjama top and wrap around your nipples, tugging and tweaking on them softly.

Underbed monster! Simon who growled satisfactorily at the small wet patch that started forming on your panties, slowly rubbing your sweet pussy while applying more and more pressure to his touch, watching you writhe and whine underneath him, begging for more.

Underbed monster! Simon who purred as he slipped a thick tentacle past the hem of your panties, stuffing your fluttering cunny so full of himself, finally that rich taste of your pleasure simmered right through him, filling his ghastly body with strength and energy he lacked all this time you were depressed. Newfound strength just nagged him into fucking you faster and harder, twisting out your nipples and rubbing your clit rapidly, all while forcing his thick tentacles in and out of your leaking cunt, making you scream and tremble in his inescapable grasp as fourth orgasm rippled through your weakened body, pure pleasure surging through your veins, hogging up your mind and making you incapable of thinking.

Underbed monster! Simon who only let you go when first sun rays peaked in through bedroom’s window, leaving you a fucked-out yet blissful mess, pinching you on your cheek affectionately before slipping under your mattress, curling up like a huge lazy cat and falling asleep, full of your delicious pleasure.

And even hours later as you peeked under your bed you could see a huge black spot there, still and unmoving; and if you listened closely enough you could hear your underbed monster purr softly in its sleep, happy and properly nourished.

That’s quite a pet that you have now, eh?

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, don’t be shy to give writers some love! Requests are open, so send me some stuff<3

[gay-dorito-dust]

:33 can you imagine Ford reading his book trying so hard to focus on the paragraph but like- He’s so distracted by Reader’s kisses and snuggles like like they’re acting like a cat and Ford just kalskskdjskdk

Ford was trying his hardest to get through the paragraph, he really was, but when you were sleepy ford found that you tended to become more affectionate. As was the case when he felt you snuggle up into his side as closely as you physically could while pressing tender kisses to his jaw and side of his neck.

‘Beloved.’ Ford said softly.

‘Yes my dearest?’ You purred, nuzzling your head into his chest, pressing a kiss there because you felt like it, that and you didn’t think you give Ford as much affection as he deserved…also the little hitches in his breathing were delicious.

‘I’m- im trying to read and you’re being quite-‘

‘Distracting?’ You asked and you could see the blush spreading across his face as his fingers toyed with the corners of the pages belonging to the book he was reading. For someone as smart and eloquent as him, you lived for the days where you got to see him be flustered and unsure of himself when it can to displaying affection, especially seeing as he had went without such for a good majority of his life.

‘I’m afraid so my dear, you know how easily affected I am by your preferred form of affection.’ Ford replied, feeling his mind falter and freeze upon feeling your lips once again kindly greet the skin of his jawline, little kisses scattered across it that it almost felt ticklish. He knew you were smiling and feeling proud of yourself because he could feel it pressed up against the pulse point of his neck.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about my sweetheart,’ you spoke against his skin, closing your eyes as you felt his skin grow warmer under your lips as his pulse pulsed against them as though eagerly reciprocating your kisses with his quick it was going, ‘I thought a man like you could keep his composure.’ You added with a chuckle, knowing from firsthand experience that wasn’t the case at all.

‘I’m afraid that does not count when in the presence of a true beauty of a person such as you may love.’ Ford felt you stiffen as he smiled to himself, yes he could be poetic as they come, he had to read Jane Austen’s books for a class once in college and could recite anything from that book off by heart from how often he annotated the poor book front to back, and in incredible depth too.

‘Who knew you’d be a man of such flattering words Stanford.’ You teased as you were now practically half sat on his lap that Ford had to lay a hand against the small of your back to keep you pressed against. Ford chuckles as he hurries his face into your head, hiding his sweet smile, ‘only for you my dear, only for you.’ He chants softly and you couldn’t help but thank whom ever for bringing Ford to you, for he was the best thing to have ever happened in your life, and you would gladly dedicate yourself to showing him just how much you adore him; it was the least you could do for the man you loved to death.

‘You deserve to be caressed by words, not showered in them. kissed, not smothered. Praised with words whispered in your ears rather than out loud in public as though it was a spectacle. I want to love you in moments like these, soft, slow, forgettable to most but memorable to others who don’t live life in the fast lane and forget to cherish the quieter parts in life.’ You tell Ford sincerely as you positioned your head back to rest against his shoulder, while his hand absentmindedly stroked your side softly, slowly; his book long forgotten as you both decided to enjoy each others company without making a freaks spectacle out of it.

[gaywarcriminals]

Remember that time Xiao Jiu wanted to beat a kid with a brick?

The scene where Shen Jiu threatens Shi Wu is possibly my favorite scene in the whole novel because it tells us so much about qijiu's dynamic, both past and future, and namely, that they're both little freaks (affectionate) who show love in weird ways. I think it particularly exemplifies several of Yue Qingyuan's traits that often go overlooked!

I am just going in order. All excerpts are from the Seven Seas official translation, Volume 4, Chapter 24: Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Jiu fights for resources

“Shen Jiu, don’t think you can just throw your weight around. You don’t own this street. What gives you the right to tell us we can’t stay?!” This main street was wide and even, and many people came and went upon it. If one wanted to beg, it was the best and prime location. Some of the passersby watched this group of children fight, but even more hurried on their way. And this new brat had the gall to challenge him. Shen Jiu looked down and around, preparing to find a brick with which to teach him a lesson, when a tall youth happened to walk over. He saw Shen Jiu rolling up his sleeves, head lowered, and hastily went to stop him. “Xiao-Jiu, let’s go somewhere else.” [...] With Yue Qi standing in front of him, Shiwu grew bold. He leaned forward and yelled, “Every time we go to a new place,you always hog the best spot!

From this we know that Shen Jiu, without fail, tries to claim or fight for the best begging spots in every city. This isn't fully textually supported, but add to that the later section that mentions how Shen Jiu was far better at begging than Yue Qi and I think that, on some level, SJ feels responsible for both his and Yue Qi's wellbeing. Chasing off the other children is not just a selfish act, but also a protective one.

According to the orders given to them, Yue Qi should have wailed and wept, but no matter what, he never could manage to cry. Therefore, this task had instead fallen to Shen Jiu, even though he was faking an illness that supposedly left him too feeble to weep. But he was small and his face wasn’t too unsightly to look at, so whenever he sobbed and bawled, the passersby found him pitiful and generously opened their wallets. It would have been no exaggeration to call him a money tree.

Xiao Jiu fancies himself the breadwinner lol.

How Yue Qi reacts to accusations against Shen Jiu

That first youth took the opportunity to tattle. “Qi-ge, he’s bullying me.” “That wasn’t bullying, Shiwu,” said Yue Qi. “Xiao-Jiu was just joking around.” “Who’s joking?” said Shen Jiu. “I’m telling him to get lost. This is my territory. I’ll kill anyone who tries to steal it.”

I've anyways found this passage so telling of their eventual adult relationship! First of all, Yue Qi implicitly takes Shen Jiu's side, and immediately defends him. This seems to be taken for granted by all characters, so we can assume this is their standard dyanmic. Yue Qi, notably, does not deny that Shen Jiu was threatening Shiwu. In this situation where SJ is actively gearing up for a fight, it would be a very poor defense, and that's probably true of most messes Xiao Jiu got himself into! 

Most of Yue Qi's actions in the scene are attempts to de-escalate. This is just my theory, but I think in Yue Qi's mind, who's at fault is much less important than making sure no one gets in trouble with a higher authority. Even if he knows SJ could win the fight, it would only gain SJ more animosity, and possibly the attention of someone who would be a real danger.

I think it's evident how Yue Qi's ethos of keeping their heads down and not causing trouble or drawing too much attention would feed into how he handled Shen Qingqiu's less commendable behavior as an adult and complaints against Shen Qingqiu.

In the brothel scene later in the extras, we can see that he's conscious of their image. 

Yue Qingyuan yanked Shen Qingqiu off the bed. He was in a rare fit of anger. “Why are you like this?” “Why am I like what?” asked Shen Qingqiu. “Two of Cang Qiong Mountain’s head disciples getting into a huge brawl inside a brothel—does that sound good to you?”

Imo, now entrenched in the politics of the cultivation world, YQY sees protecting SQQ's image/reputation as an important part of protecting SQQ. Yue Qi spent his childhood managing Xiao Jiu, and as an adult, he's not able to so easily break the habit, not matter how SQQ scorns him

Shen Jiu does not get upset by attacks on his character, only from Shiwu calling Yue Qi "Qi-ge"

With Yue Qi standing in front of him, Shiwu grew bold. He leaned forward and yelled, “Every time we go to a new place,you always hog the best spot! Everyone’s been sick of you for ages! You think you’re all that? That everyone’s afraid of you?” “Shiwu,” Yue Qi scolded. Amidst the struggle, Shen Jiu kicked Yue Qi in the shin. “If you want a fight, I’ll give you one. Only losers would blame their spot for their incompetence. You bastard—who’s your Qi-ge? I dare you to say that again!”

Now granted these aren't the most cutting insults, but it's SO interesting to me that Shen Jiu doesn't react to the insults directly. To me, this is a little bit of evidence that, even at this age, Shen Jiu had already decided he was a bad guy, and stopped caring about what others thought of him. The glaring exception to that was, ofc, Yue Qi. I think part of the reason that SJ reactions to the "Qi-ge" specifically, is that Shiwu just said that no one likes Shen Jiu, and then tried to align himself with Yue Qi. I think to SJ, he sees a real threat in the idea of someone else stealing Yue Qi, the one person who likes SJ. SJ is so possessive of Yue Qi not just because he's Qi-ge, but also because, without him, Shen Jiu would have nothing and no one.

Yue Qi tries to deescalate by coaxing/appeasing Shen Jiu

“You’re the bastard! I bet you’ll get sold off soon and end up a pimp!” Yue Qi didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “Where did you learn that kind of nonsense language?!” Then he dragged Shen Jiu off to the side of the road while coaxing him. “All right, you’re the most competent one here. Even if you didn’t pick and choose your spot, you’d be the best. So let’s change streets.” Shen Jiu stepped on his foot. “Get off me! Like I’m scared! Come on, fight me! Wanna gang up on me? Go ahead!” Of course Yue Qi knew he wasn’t scared. If he really let Shen Jiu brawl with the other kids, he would fight dirty. He’d gouge at their eyes and kick them in the belly or crotch or shin. He was terribly vicious, and the other party would be the one to end up suffering and bawling in terror. Yue Qi forced down a smile. “Are you done stepping on my foot yet? If you are, stop it. Qi-ge will take you somewhere fun.” “What shitty ‘fun’?” Shen Jiu asked savagely. “The most fun I’ll have is if they’re all dead.” Yue Qi looked at him helplessly and shook his head.

Yue Qi only barely scolds Shen Jiu, even when Shen Jiu in the wrong (tried to steal Shiwu's spot and then almost beat up Shiwu). Instead, his reaction is to distract, coax, bribe, and praise him until SJ looses interest in whatever trouble he was going to cause. Yue Qi is so biased, and he spoils him 😂. Even when Yue Qi has so little he can give, he managed to spoil Shen Jiu by giving him so much favor, attention, and affection. 

I think this is something that comes naturally to Yue Qi to the point that he can't help himself from doing the same thing as an adult, even when SJ scorns him. It's just the correct response to seeing a Xiao Jiu! He's the "why do we have hands" meme fr 

Yue Qi smiles imagining Shen Jiu beating up the other kids

Of course Yue Qi knew he wasn’t scared. If he really let Shen Jiu brawl with the other kids, he would fight dirty. He’d gouge at their eyes and kick them in the belly or crotch or shin. He was terribly vicious, and the other party would be the one to end up suffering and bawling in terror. Yue Qi forced down a smile. “Are you done stepping on my foot yet? If you are, stop it. Qi-ge will take you somewhere fun.”

I don't have much to say about this, I just want to remind everyone Yue Qi finds SJ's violent, feral tendencies adorable. This man has no desire to train his cat, and he will insist it's friendly even as it gnaws on his arm.

In Conclusion?

This single scene shows us the trajectory of qijiu's relationship going forward, the strengths of their relationships that became pitfalls. It allows to imagine what they could have become if not torn apart by a world set to doom them.

[starry-bi-sky]

i have been unmedicated for the entirety of spring break and thus have had little interest in writing this down, but i have been thinking about this for the entire week (as well as a dpdc clone danny au that resulted in it becoming its entirely separate batman au that includes a teenage vigilante bruce wayne, an ocarina, and me entirely incapable of making a batman au without making bruce dirt poor but we're not talking about that) and so i've finally went 'fuck it' and forcibly grabbed my laptop. I will get this done in one sitting even if it kills me.

BUT. This is about neither clone^2 danny nor about who i am calling Ocarina Batman. This is about my Danyal Al Ghul Au and more SPECIFICALLY it's me thinking about his relationship with Sam and Tucker specifically.

Tucker and Sam? Adore this asshole (affectionate) with every fiber of their being. And it is very much a reciprocated feeling, but Danny's thoughts will not be delved into much other than he would kill for them.

Tucker? The only person currently capable of getting a deep, loud, belly laugh out of Danny. Sam can get him to smile and to laugh, but it's the kind that's a chuckle-under-the-breath. The quiet, looks-down-while-huffing laughter. Snorts once with laughter and then grins stupidly.

But Tucker? Tucker can crack a slew of stupid jokes and Danny will be incapacitated for the next five minutes because he's laughing so hard that he can't breath. He lands one well-timed pun or quip and Danny will be close to tears. His laughter is their favorite sound in the whole world.

Sam is lowkey jealous of this ability, and she's gotten a belly laugh out of Danny a few times. But alas, it is Tucker who wields this power and has gotten it the most times out of the two of them.

-

They're also both physically affectionate with Danny as much as possible. It started roughly around when they were 12-ish, a year since they befriended Danny, and they noticed that he sought after touch but never seemed to initiate (and was in some ways repulsed by it). They started slowly being more touchy with him. Hooking a finger around his to lead him somewhere, tapping his wrist, looping arms. Little touches, grabs, etc, to get him used to it, and once he started doing it back they started increasing it.

It's gotten to a point where he will now just. Lay on them. Like a lizard sunbathing on a rock. Leaning on their backs when they're sitting in class before the bell rings, his chin on their heads. He'll talk about anything with his arms looped around their shoulders.

If they're sitting on a couch at either of their houses, he'll lay his legs on theirs. Him and Tucker will press their feet against the other's and try and push against them (newsflash: Danny always wins, Tucker claims its the ghost strength but Danny's been winning since before his accident)

-

Naturally, both Sam and Tucker know where Danny keeps his weapons on his person, and are allowed to grab them off of him if they need it. His only requirement is that they don't lose his weapons if they take it and forget to return it immediately.

They both understand how big of a thing this is from Danny, and so they do their best to treat his weapons with a lot of respect and care because they know its his way of saying he trusts them.

-

Sam and Tucker are so fond of Danny it's insane. Like fr. That's their goddamn best friend, and they are so protective of him. Emotionally, physically, you name it. They will tear the head off a grown man if they need to, Danny's had scars since he arrived in Amity Park and Sam and Tucker both are going to find the person who put them there and make them pay for it.

One time, Tucker overheard a bunch of upperclass girls speaking nastily about Danny and about the rumors surrounding him, calling him names like 'freak', 'monster', etc. Danny was with him and heard it, and seemingly appeared unbothered by it, even telling Tucker that he was used to such rumors.

Tucker was so furious that hacked into the school system later that night and tanked those girls grades. They were kicked out of their clubs and had to go to mandatory tutoring for the rest of the year. He made sure to leave some way of letting them know it was him who did it.

And Sam doesn't like using her money for things, doesn't like abusing that wealth. So instead, whenever her parents talk bad about Danny, she causes a media incident that has her parents scrambling to deal with. She does something wild, outrageous by her parents' standards.

She heard some boys on the basketball team making fun of Danny once, similar to those girls had. She kicks up a fuss about something eco-unfriendly at school and forcibly holds a protest on the same day of the big home basketball game, forcing them to cancel the event and reschedule to a visiting school.

She anonymously donates money so that there's new uniforms for the team but oops! Looks like she "forgot" to donate enough money for them to get uniforms for all the team members, and strangely enough those boys in particular didn't get them! Looks like they'll have to wait until more money gets donated for the basketball team to get their new, nice uniforms. The old ones look so ratty in comparison, right?

And since the football team gets most of the sport money, that might just take awhile. And if (and when) they kick up a fuss? oops! Off the basketball team you go, :) such unsportsman-like behavior is unfit for the team.

(The only good thing about how corrupt the school system is is that she can use it to her advantage too.)

The both of them know that Danny suspects them for the sudden misfortune falling on these people, but he doesn't call them out on it. He's kinder than he used to be, but not kind enough to vouch for people who speak badly of him. Sometimes, he might just congratulate them on not getting caught.

Because Danny is their wonderful, hurt friend with a "slightly" Blue and Orange Moral code, and enough scars that people have been calling him a criminal (and worse) since he arrived in Amity Park when he was ten. And they'll be damned if he gets hurt anymore.

[another-lost-mc]

No-pressure Vampire AU idea: how about the brothers feeding on MC (consensually) a little too enthusiastically that they take longer than usual to wake up from the blood loss, causing the brothers to freak out and panic a little before MC eventually calms them down? You don’t have to write for all the brothers if you don’t want to. Thank you!!

I tried to keep the angst light-ish on this one. It focuses on the dynamics of poly!MC and the vampire brothers instead. All of them make an appearance in this but it's very Mammon/Levi/Asmo-centric.

[Vampire!DEMON BROTHERS x gn!Reader, 2.4k words, nsfw, hurt/comfort. Content warnings: canon-typical vampire behaviour including biting/blood drinking, aftercare (and lack of), pet names, masturbation, poly!MC (they/them pronouns).] ♫ [ song rec: sweet dreams ] | more from the vampire!au

Mammon, Leviathan, and Asmodeus have been in your room since they returned from their trip. The brothers were gone for nearly a week because Diavolo pulled them away from the Devildom metropolis citing official duties that required their presence.

Lucifer was considerate and gave you plenty of advanced notice before their departure. His warning before these trips is a courtesy for his brothers as much as it is for you. You scheduled your daily blood donations accordingly; by the time they were ready to leave, you gave each of the brothers two blood bags to tide them over for the week-long excursion.

The brothers returned two days early, and the first thing they did was bring you home. You stayed at Purgatory Hall while they were gone so you weren't lonely without their company. As soon as they saw you, all the brothers complained you reeked of angels and the soggy old wizard.

Mammon, Levi, and Asmo were quick to claim your attention for themselves, but first you needed to do something about the unwelcome scents of others that lingered on your skin. They waited in your room while you showered in your private bathroom. Even after you scrubbed your skin with the body wash Asmo gave you, they still insisted you smelled funny. You refused to take any more showers after the third one and told them to deal with it.

It'll be impossible for you to smell like anything except for the three brothers now. You had your (last) shower nearly an hour ago, and you've been sitting back-to-chest with Mammon with his arms wrapped around your waist. His chin is hooked over your shoulder while he watches the television screen. Levi sits at your feet and leans back against your legs while you play games together, and Asmo is sprawled on the bed beside you with his head in your lap.

It's cozy and affectionate and warm, but the air grows thick with anticipation when the first signs of bloodlust start to take hold of them. Mammon's nose tickles your neck as he scents you; if he's trying to be sneaky, he's doing a poor job of it. Levi's focus on the game wavers because he glances at you over his shoulder mid-match; he doesn't even flinch when he loses the third game in a row. Asmo's low purr rumbles in his chest as he massages the soft flesh of your thighs.

You tap Levi's shoulder with the gamepad so he can put it back on your desk, and Mammon turns off the TV and tosses the remote aside. Asmo sits up and kneels next to you on the bed. You feel a bit like prey when they all stare at you with unmistakable hunger in their eyes. They appear more monstrous than usual, but there's overwhelming love and adoration in their stares, too—you've never felt anything like it before, and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

Feeding multiple brothers at once doesn't normally take much preparation; they haven't fought about who gets to bite where in a long time. You shimmy closer to the edge of the bed so that Levi has more space to settle between your thighs. Asmo pulls a bottle of nail polish out of his pocket and grins as he reaches for your hand. He kisses each of your fingertips before he starts painting your nails. Mammon takes off his shirt and presses himself against your back again; you melt in his arms so he can support your weight.

You wince Mammon and Levi bite you at the same time, but pleasure seeps into your veins as they start to feed. Warmth and love and desire wash over you, and you close your eyes with a quiet sigh. The world seems to slip away and all you know is them.

Mammon moans into your ear as he drinks. He intersperses greedy pulls of blood with soft kisses against your throat, and his tongue flicks across the punctures he made before he drinks again. His hands slide under your shirt and rest possessively over your belly.

Asmo hums quietly beside you while he paints your nails, and he purses his lips to blow across the wet polish. He's so gentle as he turns your hand over in his, and his fangs drag teasingly across your wrist. He pierces your skin and groans loudly at the first gush of blood across his tongue. He nuzzles affectionately against your palm when you curl your fingers around his cheek.

(When the polish on that hand is dry, he gets off the bed and sits on your other side so he can repeat the process with your other hand.)

Levi is the loudest out of his brothers; you can hear the hungry, wet slurping noises he makes from between your legs. His hands are wrapped around your thighs to steady you, and he tickles your bare skin with his fingers as he feeds. It's not long before you feel the rough sensation of scales against your skin as his tail slides up your calf and wraps around your leg.

You gasp softly when three pairs of fangs finally pull away from your skin. The air reeks of blood and musk from their arousal and your own, but you feel dizzy and all you want to do right now is take a nap. You shake your head when Mammon asks if you want a recovery potion before you rest, and he helps lay you down. He smiles when you fall asleep within moments of resting against the pillow.

The three brothers glance at each other awkwardly and pretend they're not all rock-hard in their pants. They share your blood and your body, but they accept that their carnal desires will have to wait until tomorrow.

Levi scurries away first so he can take care of something in his room. Asmo saunters away towards his own room citing a similar excuse.

Mammon waits until they're both gone before he gets up from the bed carefully; he doesn't want to disturb you. He has a quick shower in your ensuite bathroom and jerks himself off. It doesn't take long for him to come, not with your scent in his nose and warm, sticky blood coating the inside of his mouth. He bites his fist to muffle his shout as he paints the shower tiles with his release.

After his shower, he dries off quickly and throws his sweatpants back on. He settles into the bed next to you, and the mattress dips when his brothers quietly return and tuck themselves into your bed too.

Mammon wakes up early the next morning. You're still asleep and laying on your side facing him. Asmo is plastered against your back, and Levi is curled at your feet with an arm draped over your legs.

Something warm and sticky drips onto Mammon's arm underneath your head, and he flicks your cheek playfully without opening his eyes. "Hey, don'tcha get your drool on me, now," he whispers, but he frowns when he smells the metallic tang of copper in the air. He glances at his arm and realizes it's not drool dripping onto him, but blood.

He's wide-awake in an instant when he realizes you must still be bleeding from the night before. He pulls you into his arms and rolls you onto your back so he can look at you properly. He panics when he realizes the small wounds on your neck from his fangs haven't healed. You're not breathing normally either and fuck, you look awful.

"Babe, wake up," he says, tapping your cheek lightly. You don't respond and he smacks your cheek again, a bit harder. "C'mon, wake up, please."

Asmo stirs behind you and sits up with a yawn, but the sleepy haze in his eyes fades quickly when he sees the horrified look on Mammon's face. "What's going on?"

"I don't know, they won’t wake up.” Mammon replies shakily. "Yo, Levi!"

Levi jerks at the foot of the bed and looks around bleary-eyed at the frantic shout of his name. "Huh?" he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes.

Asmo leans over you and inspects the open wound on your neck, and his breath hitches when he realizes that your wrists don't look any better. "You need to check your bite," Asmo tells Levi, and the room grows thick with tension as all three brothers realize there's something very wrong.

Levi scrambles into action at the tone in his brother's voice, and he tugs the blankets down so he can inspect your thigh. He panics when he sees it's barely healed at all. "I—I don't understand, it's never like this afterwards." He wipes away the thin trail of blood oozing from one of the puncture wounds, but it stays dry for only a few moments before it starts bleeding again.

Mammon glances at his brothers worriedly. "They didn't drink any potions after we finished. I figured they drank some in the other room after they showered."

It wasn't unusual for you to drink a recovery potion to prepare for a heavy feeding session. Their mistake was assuming you did—no one saw you drink anything before or after they fed from you. If you were too tired after, one of them would've helped you.

Why the hell did none of them think to ask?

Why didn't they insist you drink one even after you refused?

Asmo slides off the bed and digs around in your nightstand where you keep your recovery kit, but it's empty. "Damn it," Asmo curses under his breath. "I'll go get some. Keep trying to wake them up," he tells Mammon hurriedly as he rushes from the room.

Mammon maneuvers you carefully and props you up in a pile of pillows against the headboard. Your nightstand is lacking recovery potions, but you have plenty of bandages in your private bathroom. He cleans the skin around your bite marks and covers them with gauze, and he bites his lip to keep it from quivering. He takes care of the wounds on your neck and wrists while Levi tends to the bite on your leg. They work together in strained silence.

You start to regain consciousness as they're tidying up the ripped bandage wrappers and bloody towels. Levi will swear later on that he and Mammon were both crying tears of relief. He covers his red, tear-stained face with his arm and sniffles pitifully; he's just glad you're okay.

You're woozy from blood loss and your speech is a bit slurred, but you try to answer Mammon's questions as best you can. You're not in pain exactly, but you're still tired and light-headed.

Levi paces nervously at the foot of your bed while Mammon sits beside you and holds your hand. He hates how sickly you look and how weak your hand feels in his. Guilt swirls in the pit of his stomach because he knows it's their fault.

Mammon finally hears footsteps rush down the hallway outside your room, and it sounds like Asmo brought company. There's a sharp intake of breath when the door opens. Lucifer steps inside first and Asmo follows behind him. The other siblings give them space and linger in the doorway.

Mammon's not sure what's scarier right now: Lucifer's icy glare of disappointment, Satan's scowl of barely-contained rage, or Beel and Belphie's muttered threats that promise excruciating pain. Mammon waves Asmo over to the bed—he'll deal with his brothers later, after you're taken care of.

Asmo sits on the edge of the bed and uncorks a small bottle that he tips into your mouth. "I'm glad you're awake," he whispers tearfully. "I'm so sorry." He wipes away a trickle of the clear fluid that dribbles down your chin before he leans forward and hugs you. You attempt to smile at him reassuringly, but it looks more like a grimace.

Lucifer glances between each of his brothers who squirm under his scrutiny, but his gaze lingers on you the longest. He's never seen you look so worn out, and he's seething inside that his brothers' neglect did this to you.

Asmo explained what happened after he nearly collided with Lucifer in the hallway earlier: you didn't drink any recovery potions before or after their feeding, and they didn't check on you properly during the night. Lucifer knows you'll try and blame yourself for this, but responsibility for your care ultimately falls to them. Perhaps you should know better, but they should too.

It doesn't take long for the potion to take effect. Your eyes are already a bit brighter and more focused, and you start to look a little embarrassed about what's happened.

Lucifer plans to come back later and help care for you personally, but first he needs to have words with his brothers. "I'd like to see the three of you in the dining room. Your brothers can take care of things here," he tells the trio hovering near your bed. "In the meantime, the next seven days will be dry for everyone."

The week-long ban that prevents you from feeding them in any way—directly or through blood donation—is met with mixed reactions. Lucifer and Satan look a little smug since they rationed your blood bags from the trip and still have some left over; Mammon, Levi, Asmo, and Belphie have nothing left of theirs; and Beel looks the most horrified since he consumed both of your blood bags before he even left the city nearly a week ago.

"Are—are you sure that's necessary?" you ask weakly as you try to sit up straighter in bed. Mammon tries to push you back against the pillows and urges you to relax. "It was an accident, I don't blame them at all."

Lucifer's eyes soften when he looks at you, because you always put their needs and desires above your own well-being—but today, he won't allow it. His brothers skitter away from the bed as he steps forward, and he strokes your cheek gently with the back of his gloved fingers.

"Your presence is a gift to us, and sometimes we all need to be reminded not to take you for granted." He wishes he could bend down and kiss the pout away from your lips, but the others are hovering nearby; he offers you a small, private smile instead.

"Take this time to rest and focus on regaining your strength," he suggests. His fangs peek out behind his lip when his smile sharpens. He leans down close to your ear and whispers darkly and full of promise, "You'll need it."

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[forever-rogue]

Not kissing steve because Mike made a comment about how too much pda is gross and the poor guy is so confused and lost and desperate to kiss you and he asks you sadly whats wrong and tries to fix it. (With lots of make up kisses and steve not caring what Mike says)

AN | No, but I love this idea, especially Mike being a lil shit 🥺

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Steve, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Steve Harrington was an affectionate person. He always and more than likely always would be. It was one of the many things that you loved about him; he wasn’t afraid to be outwardly touchy and feely and never missed an opportunity to kiss or hug you, to hold your hand, or just be near you. And you would never, ever, turn down anything from him, even if it was just a simple in passing. 

You never thought much about it, letting it just happen. You were sure that his affections were nothing out of hand but that all changed one afternoon, thanks to Mike Wheeler. The lot of you were at the fair, currently standing in line for some random fried food stand. Steve was standing behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder. You loved the feeling of him being all over you especially as he pressed lazy kisses to your warm, sunkissed skin. 

It wasn’t until you were next in line that Steve let go of you, turning to order for both of you. Mike scoffed and shook his head. You looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “what’s wrong, Mike?”

“You guys are so gross,” he groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically, “you’re always all over each other, just calm down. We get it. You’re madly in love with each other, great, fantastic.”

“Mike,” Dustin smacked his friend, as Max and Lucas were completely oblivious, “maybe you should calm down. Don’t be so jealous. Get over it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mike flipped him off, “I forgot - if Suzy was here, the two of you would be equally disgusting.”

“Maybe you should stop being such a jerk-”

“Boys,” you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head at the kids, “maybe we can all stop being so…over dramatic? It’s all good, okay? We’ll try and tone it down and Mike, you can get the stick out of your ass.”

Mike scowled deeply and Dustin brought into a fit of giggles. He might have called you out, but you had to get him back. 

But  - it was a promise that you intended to keep, but it still managed to bring a small pout to your lips as you looked over at Steve. Ugh. He was so ridiculously handsome, but so easy and effortless and it made your heart swoon. He turned back to you, arms filled with fried goodness and a big smile on his face. You walked over to him, taking a few things in order to free up his hands. 

“Looks disgustingly delicious,” you grinned, “good choices, love.”

Steve nodded happily before leaning over to try and press a kiss to your cheek. You turned your head and quickly dodged the kiss, not saying anything but leaving him with a confused little look on his face, “angel-”

“Come on,” you looped your arm through his and started to lead him to one of the nearby picnic tables. You decided not to mention anything of what Mike had said to Steve, figuring that it would work itself out. Maybe if you toned it down for a few weeks he would eventually take the hint and stop being so outwardly PDA-friendly.

Steve, meanwhile, was trying not to read into anything, more so trying not to freak out at the fact that you had rebuked his kiss. It was the first time you had ever turned down a kiss. But he was sure that it was not something that would keep happening. Right? Right. You were his girl, his honey, his baby, his angel, and you’d never stop loving him. Or so he hoped. Maybe you - no. He was not going to panic or worry too much - it was just one kiss. It would all be fine.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But…it turned out to be more than just one little time. 

You’d started to pull more and more out of being physically affectionate with him. At least in public - behind closed doors things were the same as ever. If anything, you were almost more touchy and lovely when it was just the two of you. It just confused Steve. He was used to being so open with you all the time. 

“Hey honey,” Steve’s face lit up as soon as he spotted you walking into his backyard. You looked more gorgeous than anyone should have been allowed to, and caused some sinful thoughts to run through his head. He had to take a moment to compose himself, trying hard not to…well, get hard. You were wearing a cute little pink polka dot two piece, and he couldn’t wait to be alone and rip it off you. The little bow holding it together in the front of your cleavage was practically taunting him; you were like a present waiting to be unwrapped, “you look gorgeous.”

“Hi Stevie,” you smiled softly at your boyfriend, admiring him in his trunks, so much of his warm, golden skin on display. You loved all of his freckles and couldn’t wait to map them all out later with your mouth, “you look good too, handsome.”

He practically melted under your praise as you reached over and took it hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You were fashionably late - you could thank your coworkers for that - and the last one there. But you were happy to see your friends. You knew that Steve was looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to kiss him, or letting yourself be kissed by him. If he hadn’t been so attuned to you, or paid as close attention as he did, he would have missed the way you looked around nervously.

“Everything alright?” there was a note of concern in his voice as you looked back at him and shook your head, “you seem…”

Off. Different. Not wanting to touch me.

“‘m alright,” you promised and for the briefest of seconds, you reached up and touched his cheek, “do you need a hand with the food or anything?”

“No,” he shook his head lightly, disappointed but also not pushing the fact that you didn’t kiss him, “I’ve got it. Just relax and enjoy yourself, angel. Y-you’re still planning on staying tonight, right?”

“Of course,” you insisted happily, “wouldn’t miss a night with you, my love.”

“Good,” he nodded, almost more to himself than anything. He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, “I’m glad. I love it when you’re here. I love spending any time with you.”

“Me too,” you smiled sweetly. You grinned when you saw Robin and Nancy excitedly waving you over. You gave Steve a small shrug as if to say what can you do before heading over to him. He’d half expected a kiss but there was no such luck.

A deep, pretty little pout settled on his features as he watched you go. It was not lost on Eddie, who definitely teased him about him for the rest of the afternoon. All he wanted was a little kiss. Was that too much to ask for?!

-─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And so it continued on, and it almost became normal that you weren’t going to let him be any sort of physically affectionate with you. It was slowly starting to wear on him; he loved you, adored you behind words, but he really just wanted to touch you. It wasn’t even anything inherently sexual, it was the sheer intimacy of being close to you and getting to feel the gentle delicateness of your soft skin on his, or to be blessed with the grace of your lips. 

But now, as the gang hung out at Phyllis’ diner, taking up two booths between you guys and the younger kids. You were next to Steve, as per usual….but you were sitting next to him as one would sit next to a friend, not a lover. You were normally tucked up into his side, thigh pressed against his, hands entwined or your head on his shoulder as you stole sweet, syrupy kisses from each other.

This evening, however, you simply sat next to him, keeping a little bit of distance between your bodies. He didn’t even try to argue or even mention it, instead taking it for what it was. You were spending the night at his place, as you did weekends, and he decided that he was going to ask you about what - or hadn’t - been going on lately. He was your boyfriend, your partner, you should have been able to tell him anything. And clearly right now, there was something going on. Steve was determined to get to the root of it…if nothing else, he wanted to make sure that you were okay. 

-─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Stevie,” you sighed his name softly as you flopped onto his warm, comfy bed. There was a big smile on your face as you stretched out and burrowed your face into his pillow, “this might be my favorite spot in the entire world.”

“You look like you belong there,” he agreed softly as he sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching over and gently tugging on the hem of your dress. You often wore sweet little dresses, and they always managed to drive him crazy. It was something so simple but so innocently sinful, “you do belong there.”

“That’s because I belong to you,” you reached for his hand and gently tugged him towards you. He obliged your silent request, not wasting a moment before crawling next to you, laying down, his head just across the pillow from yours. You couldn’t help but reach over, touching his freckles with the tips of your fingers, “I love you, Steve Harrington.”

His entire being softened, big brown eyes gentle as he watched you. He swallowed thickly before taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm. He listened to the way you softly inhaled at the feeling of his lips on your skin. A quiet fell over the two of you, as he ghosted his fingers along your features. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything,” you giggled lightly, “you’re the only one that gets to ask me anything, my love. What can I do for you?”

“Are we…are we okay?” he whispered so softly that you almost didn’t hear him. A frown tugged down the corners of your mouth as you tried to figure out where he could have gotten the slightest inkling that things weren’t okay.

“Of course we are,” you insisted, nodding your head fervently, “where did you get the idea that we weren’t?”

“I just…things have been different,” he pointed out and Steve could tell by the way your face fell that you knew exactly what he was talking about. You swallowed thickly but shook your head, “you can tell me anything. You know that - anything.”

“Nothing is…” you stopped yourself, unable to lie to him. You shifted so you were sitting up and Steve mirrored your gesture and sat there facing you. You sighed before hanging your head, “it….it was Mike.” 

“Mike?” he repeated in shock as you simply nodded at him, “what the hell did he do?”

“Nothing bad,” you put your hand on his arm and shook your head, trying to dispel any negative thoughts, “back at the fair, he made a few comments about PDA and basically…us. Us being too touchy and feely and open in public. He thought it was gross and I…I dunno it just kind of stuck with me.”

“That’s what…” he couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up as he shook his head, somewhere between amusement and annoyance, “you’ve avoided kissing me or letting me touch you in public because of the kid?!”

“When you say it like that…” you met his eye and couldn’t help but laugh too. It hadn’t seemed so irrational and weird at the time. Now it really seemed silly, “it didn’t seem bad at the time!”

“Baby, you’ve been practically killing me,” your boyfriend groaned playfully as you just shrugged sheepishly, “you wouldn’t even let me hold your hand! You denied me my kisses! I thought I might die.”

“Stevie,” you were both laughing now. His large hands found purchase on your waist as he pulled you into his lap. You made a small sound that went straight to his heart as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “you’re so dramatic!”

“Baby, baby, baby,” he pressed his forehead against yours, “tell me it wasn’t hard to keep your hands off me.”

You couldn’t even lie or argue, instead giving in by softly pressing your lips against his. He practically sighed into your touch as he melted, kissing you just as softly and reverently. You pulled back, gently carding a hand through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, “it was hard for me too.”

“Then let’s stop,” he suggested coquettishly, “and never not touch each other again. Whaddaya say, angel?”

“Yes,” you laid back against his pillow and pulled him on top of you, “and now, my love, please, please, please touch me. All over, as much as you want, but don’t ever stop.”

“I can do that,” he was practically melting as you stole some soft kisses from him, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, Steve,” you grinned, “now please touch me!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were the last to arrive at the game at the Wheelers’ house, having no one to blame but yourself. You’d taken too long getting ready, and lost track of time. But you looked very pretty, thank you very much, so it was all worth it. You let yourself into the Wheeler home, hearing the excited chatter and laughter from your friends. 

“Hello!” you greeted excitedly as you walked inside, met with happy waves…and then almost tackled by your overly enthusiastic boyfriend. He wrapped you up in a tight hug, twirling you around before kissing you softly. You beamed at the boy, wondering why on earth you’d ever willingly rejected this display of affection before.

“My angel,” he whispered against your lips, so soft and gentle, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you promised, “and it’s only been like…twelve hours.”

“Doesn’t matter,” his hand found the side of your neck, his thumb gently brushing along your soft skin, “I’d miss you even if it was only an hour.”

“Ugh, stop being so perfect,” you playfully groaned. But you meant it - Steve really was a wonderful man, golden hearted and loving and you couldn’t imagine life without him, “if I loved you anymore, I’d probably explode from love and happiness and sweetness.”

“It’s just because I love you,” he pecked your lips before you both heard a loud throat clear from the living room. You pulled apart and turned to find Mike Wheeler standing there and looking between the two of you. He shook his head, but you could see that a small smile was playing on his features. 

“If you lovebirds are done, we’re about to start monopoly!” he motioned with his head for the two of you to join the rest of them. He paused for a moment, “it’s still disgusting! But it’s kind of cute how in love the two of you are.”

And with that, the boy turned around to join the others as you laughed quietly. Steve’s cheeks were a pretty pastel pink as he cleared his throat, “you’re in love with me, huh?”

“Duh, Stevie,” you grinned, “are you in love with me?”

“Duh,” he teased softly as he took your hand in his and you were practically glowing, “more than you’ll ever know, angel.”

[aereasrage]

The Favorite pt. 2

summary: If there is one trait the green children have all retained from their lady mother, it is their obsession with their little sister.

cw: very codependent mother-daughter relationship, platonic!yan!alicent, incest, incredibly dubious consent, voyeurism, mentioned animal cruelty, drugging, matching mother-daughter anxiety♥️

notes: the pairing for this chapter is mainly aegon x reader but that’s more a matter of plot setup. while there are jace x reader crumbs, we’ll get plenty of those two freaks (affectionate) later.

part 1

word count: 3.3k

Alicent’s decision to betroth her youngest to Aegon rather than Helaena was not one that came easily. It was also not one that came without resentment from her second son.

Logically, you should have been betrothed to Aemond or a lord from whichever house was suitable since it was Helaena who was born first and Aegon would have to wait years for you to be marriage age. But Alicent always knew she’d never marry you outside of your house, she needed you close at hand. A girl needs her mother, desperately, she knew that very well. She had suffered without her own mother, for it should have been her who guided her in matters of marriage, in holding her head high as a young girl living in such a tumultuous place as the red keep. But it would be different for you, she resolved. You would not suffer from being without your mother, you’d not enter marriage to a man you hardly knew. You’d have her as your eternal advocate. There were kinder men than your brothers who would have your hand, she could concede that much but Viserys had been kind and still she had been lost, had been isolated, she had still been wounded irreparably. No, what you needed most was to stay with your mother.

She thought of wedding you to Aemond, who followed you about like a little guard dog; but truly, she felt it wrong to marry Helaena to Aegon. She was a delicate girl, even more so than herself when she’d become queen. Aegon rejected even simply speaking directly to her when they were in the same room. Helaena was a strange sort of girl and though she loved her all the same, Alicent knew very well she couldn’t saddle the poor girl with the duties of a queen in addition to standing alongside a boy so unruly as Aegon. Aemond would be dutiful toward her, whether he wanted her for a bride or not. You, however, were the only one who would quell Aegon even temporarily. Your scoldings were the only ones that got any real reaction from him. He hovered near you and acted like a fool simply to hear your laughter.

She remembered that when you were small, you played with a newborn kitten you found in gardens. You’d insisted on taking him and his mother inside and caring for them as your pets. Aegon, who seemed to trail after you wherever you went then, had handled the poor thing too roughly and it had died. You had been so furious and bereaved that you refused to speak to him for weeks. In those weeks, Alicent witnessed her slovenly, shameless and apathetic son rush to and fro with gifts, trying to make you forgive him. To him, it had only been a game, a bit of fun, really. They were only little, what did their lives really matter? He had done the same with Helaena, crushing butterflies and moths in his hands in front of her. But even if he didn’t understand the fuss, even if he didn’t regret the act in and of itself, he truly felt remorse for hurting your feelings and even more so for making you so cross with him. He had stood outside your door drunkenly pleading every night before he went to bed. You were no fool. You could tell from his vague platitudes that he didn’t truly feel sorry for what he’d done, only for upsetting you. Which was why you continued ignoring him until he surprised you one night with the soft mewing of kittens outside your door.

You had rushed out to find a basket of orange kittens with Aegon standing nearby with a proud smile on his face. “Do you like them?” He had asked. You knelt to play with the wriggly kittens, they were mewing loudly, climbing over each other in the basket and they nibbled on your fingers when you pet them. You giggled. “Where did you find them? I hope you haven’t separated them from their mother.”

“Be at peace, sweet sister, I found them while I was about the streets. No mother in sight. You’re their mother now.” He clasped his hands behind his back tightly, hoping this offering would make you love him again. In reality, he’d been about the brothels, whining about the situation in the arms of a whore until she, a bit fed up with his weepiness, told him to simply buy you another kitten. King’s Landing was lush with cats coming and going from their owner’s homes, constantly getting pregnant and having squalling little babies that most would gladly sell if they could. Aegon had then lept up, tossed her some coin and set about his plan for redemption.

Alicent had never seen anything like it. Aegon bumbling about like a fool trying to impress you, to stay in your good graces when he wouldn’t do so much as be decent to stay in hers. She thought you’d make him a fine queen. It was your head that the crown would rest most easily on. Helaena would not be able to pull him this way and that as you did; and he would not be so kind to her as he was to you. So, she betrothed you to him and Helaena to Aemond. Aemond had his complaints but he knew his mother would only hear so many of them until she tuned him out. In his own eyes, he was the superior heir to the throne, dutiful and sedate but still it belonged to his worthless elder brother, he had come to terms with that much. He was only a second son, it was bitter and unfortunate but it was a matter of birth that was not to be mourned over forever. But to know that he had been denied his younger sister’s hand was enough to awaken that resentment again. Aegon was the firstborn son, he got to be unworthy and still have a bride above himself. Aemond was dutiful, he listened to their mother’s commands and what had he gotten for the trouble? His elder sister who should have been his brother’s bride.

What did Aegon know of love and duty toward you? It had been Aemond protecting you whenever Aegon was trying to lead you into some foolish plot outside the keep. It wasn’t fair. Why was he constantly being rewarded for his shamelessness? Why did duty not just go unrewarded but get penalized? It made his blood boil with indignation but there was nothing he could do except marry Helaena. Continue to do his duty as his mother insisted. He knew how to covet in silence.

Aegon once coveted his mother’s love, lamented that she did not love him even in his depravity as he felt a mother should. She had loved you since you were born but she could not even meet his eyes anymore. It gave him all the more reason to mope and stew in self pity, to brew an undue hatred toward you but as you grew, you were able to reach him with your smile. A giggle when he teased Aemond or when he made a fool of himself. You trusted him, loved him even. You, with the face of your mother, looked upon him with pleasure. He would have done anything to keep that. It was too late for Alicent’s love, he knew that much. But it would be easier to keep in your good graces, you didn’t really know him yet.

On the morning of your wedding day, Alicent helped you get ready. She sent away your maids as she often did. When you were just a child, she’d hover over them disapprovingly as they brushed your hair and admonish them for minor infractions until she simply snatched the brush from their hands with a sigh and took over. She hated for you to be touched by others, especially your lowborn maids. They didn’t understand how gentle you were, that you required an especially gentle hand. She was also the only one who truly knew what hairstyles you best suited. She knew how to put pins in your hair without hurting you even once, she knew how to braid your hair tight enough to hold but not tight enough to give you a headache. She loved your hair, she could not bear to see anyone mistreat it.

Today, you were to wear your house colors. Helaena sat on the floor, fiddling in your jewelry box, handing Alicent a golden necklace with rubies to drape across your neck. The cool metal made you flinch as it touched your skin. You were trembling, frightened of a day where all eyes were to be on you. “You look lovely,” Helaena said quietly. “I’ve never seen you in red before, it makes you look like a little ladybug.” You smiled at her, not wanting to ignore her kindness even despite your anxiety. “Thank you.”

Alicent stepped back to look at you. “You do look lovely,” she said, sadly. Her eyes were misted over with tears seeing you dressed befitting a Targaryen bride. You were but small to her. Here you were, looking as she did when she was wed to Viserys. It made her realize just how young and frightened she must have looked then. “Enough to bring the seven kingdoms to their knees.” She mustered a smile. Your fate was not hers, she assured herself, all you needed was your mother’s care and unlike her, you would always have it.

“I'm frightened…” You unraveled at your mother’s praises, giving away your façade to confess your anxieties to your mother who had always soothed them. Alicent pulled you into her arms delicately, so as not to smoosh your intricately done hair. “Oh, sweetling,” she murmured, tearing up. “It is alright.”

“The eyes of the whole court on me...” Your voice carried such a heartbreaking note of fear. You were near trembling in her arms, Alicent almost wished to put off the wedding entirely. She did not seek to wed you to Aegon for her own folly, but because you had to be wed as a princess and if not within the family, to someone outside who would steal you from her arms and perhaps harm you. And were she to send you to become a septa, you’d also have to part from her. You'd be alone and without her guidance. She knew why she was doing what she was doing and that it was the only thing to do, even so, it nearly broke her. But she was no longer a frightened child, she was the one whose job it was to be strong.

After holding you in her arms for some time, she soothed you and finally resolved to walk you down the altar. It was unusual for a mother to walk her daughter down the altar and tongues would certainly wag for her coddling you but she didn't care. If you could not go alone, she would always offer you her hand. She took your trembling hand in her warm, certain one and led you down to Aegon. When you reached him, she continued to hold your hand, standing to the side of you, mouthing the vows you'd near forgotten in your nervousness. Her eyes flitted about the sept, making sure everyone was behaving properly, she wouldn't have anyone embarrassing you with whispers of gossip. They could do that when they left the keep, when they were far enough away that she could keep their insults from reaching your ears.

Luckily, though it seemed there was a bit of talk, many found your timid disposition to be endearing or at least unsurprising due to your elder sister’s shared reticence. When you got to the feast, many already tipsy lords and ladies came up to you, speaking sweet words to wish you congratulations on the wedding. Still, it did little to lessen the anxiety you felt growing toward your next task as a wife. Aemond had given a toast in which he very pointed asserted that his sword would always be at your service and that if you should need a dutiful man to rely on, he would be at your side in a moment’s notice. Helaena had expressed her wish that all of your time would not be stolen away by Aegon. Rhaenyra and her lot were there, to her chagrin, her eldest son's dark eyes lingered on you, lusting for what was not his, as usual. She wanted more than anything to have him sent from the feast for leering at her daughter but she knew that would not do, she was at least glad that it escaped your notice. Rhaenyra had once offered a marriage bid between you and Jacaerys; seeing how well the two of you played as children but Alicent had, of course, refused. Aemond had been tasked from then on with keeping you away from all of her bastard boys, the Driftmark incident had only further strengthened her resolve. Had she let one of those boys lay hands on you, the gods only know how much you'd pay for it.

Alicent remembered her own wedding night, the pain and the odd need for her to stifle her tears. She remembered thinking of how strange it was that this man was now her husband, now with her in the most intimate way and even so, she had to keep up a certain countenance. She should not share her pain and displeasure with him. He was not just a man, nor her king or her husband, he was a job. Her heart was aching every moment just looking at you and remembering.

She had always resolved to help you through. She wouldn't dare let you suffer. She handed you a goblet of wine which you took without hesitation, drinking it down in hopes that inebriation would help you tolerate the night ahead. But Alicent had thought ahead and had your goblet filled with poppy wine to make you sleepy, pliant and unable to feel such fear and pain as she had. By the time you and Aegon bid your guests goodnight, you were in the clouds. But her job was not done.

When you and Aegon reached your chambers, Alicent followed, helping you onto the bed. Aegon gave her a look. "Really, mother...Don't tell me you need to see me bed her to believe I can." He was insulted by her feeling the need to hover over even his wedding night. How could she believe he'd do something untoward to the only sibling he truly loved? Aegon's mind swirled with undue indignation at his mother's presence.

"I won't have you damage her, Aegon." Alicent said, warily without any bite to her words but with a resolve that would not be argued against.

Meanwhile, as Aegon whined back to her, you laid on the bed which somehow felt softer than anything you'd ever slept on before, your mind gone away and into the sky with the dragons. You heard the murmuring voice of your mother and it made you feel warm inside, it made you miss her hand which had held yours before. "Mother..." you mumbled. Alicent was at your side in an instant, whispering soothing words as she carefully took off your wedding dress, “I'm right here, sweetling, it's alright." She draped it over the back of a chair and turned to Aegon, "I'll be looking over you, as often as need be. You've skirted your duties for too long now, I won't have you hurt her in another of your grasps for pleasure. She is your wife, not a whore.” Then, she perched in a chair near the bed, eyeing him mistrustfully

Aegon frowned and took off his clothes with a huff before her, climbing onto the bed, hovering over you. He was frustrated from his mother’s insult and his breaths came harshly as he struggled to proceed with the night with any dignity. He had trouble even getting it up, feeling his mother’s prying eyes on him, waiting to scold him. Your hand came up suddenly to cup his cheek, your bleary eyes meeting his and a soft smile tugging at your lips. That moment of tenderness was all that he needed. It fell into place nicely for him then. You were his lady wife, you loved him and finally, he could have you as any man wishes to have a woman. His mother’s uncertain gaze mattered nothing in that moment. All that mattered was you beneath him; soft, forgiving.

He was…made capable by just your hand on his cheek and his own hand went to his cock, stroking it to full hardness as he spit in the other to rub into you. He began trying clumsily to loosen you up. He had only ever been with whores and the stray serving girl now and again, he was unused to pleasuring a woman. He wasn’t sure carnal pleasure was something women like his mother and sisters felt, perhaps it was truly only a service that only baseborn women were willing to lower themselves to. Even so, he wished for you to cry out like they did, to writhe in pleasure under his ministrations. To prove himself to you and to your mother somehow.

Alicent sat quietly, already nauseous at the display. She wanted to cover your eyes, to take you back into her arms and have you only for herself forevermore. Yet, as a queen and a mother, she had to accept that it was his and your duty. She watched on with a stoic look. Her audience was necessary, Aegon hadn’t convinced her otherwise even with his whining, but it didn’t mean that it was pleasant for her. It was her duty to her daughter to make sure that you weren’t going to be hurt, no matter how unseemly it all felt. Mercifully, you were peaceful, sighing softly at Aegon’s machinations, as though you’d soon fall asleep. Your head lolled to the side, gazing at your mother who hurriedly put a small smile on her face. You smiled back, clearly still in the clouds, even as Aegon grew impatient and finally decided you were wet enough.

“Gentle,” Alicent hissed, a ball of anxiety in the corner of the room. Aegon did not acknowledge her save for a soft scoff but was a bit more careful in his actions…a bit.

It didn’t hurt much, there was just a slight sting with each snap of his hips. Otherwise, it didn’t feel like much of anything, either due to the wine or Aegon himself. But as you were lost between dreams and reality, you sighed softly at the gentle rocking of the bed. Aegon took this as your pleasure and he was further spurred on. He sped up, his own sounds of pleasure ringing out in the quiet room. Your dreamy expression was entirely due to the poppy wine but Aegon would never know that. All he could feel was the rush of pleasing his sister, of his own pleasure, of proving his mother wrong. He was overzealous, coasting on the desperate little burst of scarce pride it all brought him.

Meanwhile, Alicent’s body shuddered in revulsion and horror. She bit down hard on her lip, trying to suppress a strangled sound of distress. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. To watch her most treasured daughter…she did not have the stomach for it. It was her duty, one she’d taken on willfully but she had not been thinking of herself then. She had not been thinking of how much it would remind her of Viserys. She had nearly cried out herself when Aegon had first entered you. When the two of you were done—well, when Aegon was done, he slumped over to the side of the bed, apparently exhausted with his arm still around you. She sat for a while in silence, staring blankly into space and considering everything. You, however, were still just barely awake. “Mother…” you murmured just as she was trying to gather sense again.

Alicent snapped back into reality. “Yes, sweetling?” she breathed, overwhelmed by the display she had just seen but still wanting to attend you. She quickly grabbed a nightgown from your wardrobe to cover you.

“Stay with me, please,” you said as she pushed Aegon aside and carefully slid on your nightgown.

Alicent’s heart melted at the words. She sat at the side of your bed and wrapped her arms about you, pressing your head to her chest. Her voice wavered. “I would not dream of leaving you.”

[yandere-writer-momo]

Tall, older, voluptuous reader with Baki Hanma is such a fun dynamic. Poor man is putty in your fingers. So what if I throw in Kozue? @lonelystarsstuff

Also did you know that people in Japan are only physically affectionate after the third date?

Yandere Baki Head Canons: Our Girlfriend

Yandere Baki x Tall Afab Reader x Yandere Kozue

Now the way this younger man stared at you unnerved you. Sure you were used to the way men would stare at you seeing that you’re the only fighter amongst them, but the way Baki stared at you was different. It was almost as if he wanted to eat you. And it wasn’t just him. It was his girlfriend too.

You’ve tried letting the short man down gently but he was determined to have you. It didn’t matter that you didn’t like him, Baki was sure you’d give in eventually. Between him and Kozue, they both really liked you.

“I’m so jealous of how nice you look in everything.” Kozue complimented you, her dark eyes nervously flitted over to your body. Kozue shifted in her chair with nervousness as she bit her lip. “I wish my body looked like yours.”

“Your body looks just fine, Kozue.” You sighed as you ran a hand through your hair. “We are just two very different body types.”

You went to rise up to take off your judo uniform. Which made Kozue’s cheeks flush a bright shade of red.

Kozue’s eyes shifted to the ground when you rose to stand up. You were so tall… she was a bit jealous. “I could help you-“

Kozue gasped when you grabbed her chin and held her face up to look at you. A smirk on your face. “You and your little boyfriend are both little freaks, aren’t you?”

Kozue gulped when your fiery gaze didn’t leave her eyes once. Your gaze was strong and dominant, a side she has never seen of you before… one that made her tremble with excitement. Kozue really liked this side of you.

Your gaze was unmoving when Kozue leaned more into your touch. How peculiar her and Baki were. Were all the fighters weird in Japan? So far, every single one of them had been rather strange to you. You didn’t know if it was because of your larger portions or because of your monstrous height. But you didn’t like the attention all that much.

“If you insist.” You sat down on the bench in front of Kozue. The women’s locker room was empty save for the two of you. “Knock yourself out.”

Kozue’s cheeks flushed a bright cherry red as she stepped forward to help you disrobe out of your judo uniform. Her breath hitched at how muscular you were. She didn’t know women could look like you…

“Are you going to gawk or are you going to help me take this sweaty thing off?” You turned your head to look at the shy girl who merely nodded. You had to admit there was almost something endearing about the small girl. “Do I make you nervous, Kozue?”

And once you stood before her in merely a sports bra and your underwear, Kozue quickly scrambled to turn the other way. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest at the pace it beat at. She was almost in tears from how attracted to you she was

“I can handle the rest. Thanks.” You then proceeded to dress into sweats. The poor Japanese woman placed her face in her palms in shame. Was it normal to be attracted to someone other than Baki?

Once you were fully clothed, you turned to see the young woman still as red as a cherry. Good god she was strange.

“Alright. I’m heading out.” You slung your gun bag over your shoulder and gave Kozue one last look. “See ya around.”

As you walked out, you were greeted by Baki who seemed to be waiting for you. Hell, he was probably waiting for both you and Kozue.

“Hey. I was wondering if you’d like to go out to eat with Kozue and I?” Baki asked with cheeks the same shade of red as Kozue. “It’s on me.”

You paused for a moment before you clicked your tongue. It’d be a shame to turn down free food. Hopefully those two didn’t make it weird for you. You’ve been out with them two other times so this shouldn’t be as awkward as before. “Ya, I could do that. Just don’t be weird.”

“I mean, I’ll try not to.” Baki nervously scratched the back of his head. “Kozue seems fond of you so I apologize if she can be a bit awkward. It’s not often you get to meet an Amazon like you.”

You hummed. Most of the people here and Japan believed you to be an Amazonian warrior due to your stature. But you were merely a tall woman from (country’s name). Not an Amazon. You didn’t care what they referred to you as. Whatever helped the people around you sleep better at night.

You reached forward to zip up your sweatshirt when you noticed Baki’s gaze linger on your chest. Perhaps you should be a little more self aware? It seemed that modesty was more approved of in Japan. Which was difficult for you due to your well endowed chest. There wasn’t a single clothing department here with clothes that fit you… maybe you should ask that Jack Hanna guy where he shopped from?

Kozue snatched your hand up in hers while you were lost in thought. Baki then grabbed the other as the couple smiled at you. You towered over the two with ease which made you feel even more out of place

“Shall we?” Baki asked as the two eagerly lead you towards a restaurant. “This place has some really nice food.”

The couple lead you in with big smiles on their face. This was finally the third date… the one where they’d both ask you to be their girlfriend! You’ve been out with them two other times already so why not make it official?

[firstprinceofhearts]

My friend sent me a gif of this kiss the other day, asking why it's "kinda innocent but so fucking hot"...

Exhibit A - The kiss:

Naturally I've been overthinking it ever since, because she's absolutely right, it is both adorably innocent and insanely hot all at the same time. It also happens to be one of my favourite kisses in the whole film, so let's explore it further, shall we?

In the White House garden (Exhibit B, below), Henry has just come to the realisation that, not only is Alex straight, and definitely not interested in him, Alex is also completely oblivious to the fact that Henry has been flirting with him this whole damn time. He's sad and hurt and drunk, and when he kisses him it's an impulsive, almost helpless reaction to those feelings. It's an act of desperation, with no real hope of reciprocation, which means that when Alex actually kisses him back, he's not remotely prepared for it... so he freaks out and bolts.

Exhibit B - Henry kisses Alex (and Alex kisses back):

Then we come to the Red Room where, this time, Henry is the one taken off guard (Exhibit C, below). He's presumably spent the last month berating himself for his drunken stupidity, only for his apology to be cut off before he can even make it.

He doesn't have much more than a second to think about it, let alone rewrite his entire world view, but he knows what he wants, so he literally grabs the chance he never thought he'd get with both hands and kisses Alex as hard and as hungrily as he can.

Exhibit C - Alex kisses Henry (and Henry kisses back):

So, when they finally make it up to Alex's bedroom for their late night tryst (Exhibit D, below), one can only imagine that they've both been thinking about little else all evening. Add to that, Henry has likely been thinking about little else for months (if not years), and he wants everything. It's hungry, urgent, desperate... and hot as fuck. *ahem*

Exhibit D - All the kisses:

By the time we reach this kiss, though, the kiss (Exhibit A, above), the last one of the night, they're more relaxed in each other's company than they've possibly ever been before. They're both satisfied (because I refuse to accept a universe in which Alex didn't reciprocate in some way, no matter how inexplicably put together Henry looks afterwards - seriously, he's still wearing his jacket? And his bow tie isn't even a little crooked?!) and they've instinctively fallen back into their usual dynamic, pulling each other's pigtails, only now the flirtatious undercurrent isn't so 'under' and inevitably their roughhousing quickly turns into more kissing.

Except it's not hungry or desperate or urgent like all the other times, it's not a means to an end, it's affectionate, playful. It's a kiss just for the sake of kissing and, incidentally, I'm willing to bet that's why Henry bolts again (Exhibit E, below), because he realises it too. That this isn't just a one night stand to get Alex out of his system. That there really could be something more between them, and that terrifies him.

Exhibit E - Poor baby:

Anyway, that is why I think it's got such an innocent vibe (they really are just playing around), but the levity of the moment doesn't change the way that Henry pushes him back against the cushions, nor the fact that he is literally pinning Alex down and that is really fucking hot.

[heliads]

Hello! If you don’t mind, I would like to request a Rebekah Mikaelson x reader?

Something like, reader is human but is the key to one of Klaus’s plans, so he takes her to the Mikaelson mansion and keeps her there. She’s kind of a prisoner, but Rebekah has seen this film before, so she’s just expecting one of her brothers - or both of her brothers - to fall in love with yet another stupid human and make everything complicated again

However, reader starts to get affectionate with her. She starts looking for her when she needs something, when she has to make a decision, she looks at her for reassurance, she goes to Bekah’s room late at night to talk and very often just falls asleep there, it’s a whole thing, but Rebekah is always expecting the moment she’ll leave her for her brothers, not really opening her heart, she’s scared because she has been fooled so many times

So, one day she sees reader talking with Elijah and she’s even giving him those pleading eyes she usually reserves for her and they both shut up immediately when she gets close, and she knows the moment came, Y/N will be Elijah’s, Klaus will freak out and hell will break loose. She’s hurt but pretends no to be and just starts keeping reader away

But reader was only talking to Elijah because in one of these late night talks, Rebekah told her that no one has ever baked for her even though she has been doing it forever, so she was just trying to convince him to get everything she needed to bake for her, she’s completely in love with Rebekah

So, that’s it! I hope you like the request, thanks anyway!

'didn't like the ending' - rebekah mikaelson

masterlist

God, Rebekah Mikaelson has seen the same scene play out so many times, she’s starting to feel like she’s spent half her immortal life in deja vu. For a family of Original vampires that prides itself on being leagues beyond the rest of their bloodsucking proteges, the Mikaelson brothers can be a little, well, predictable. Especially at times like this.

If there’s one perfect example of the Mikaelson men repeating themselves, it would have to be the hostage problem. Rebekah can’t even begin to count the amount of times she’s witnessed the same damn thing over the centuries. At this point, it’s starting to border on ridiculous, yet the only one who seems attuned to this problem is Rebekah. And it���s not as if her brothers are really that keen to listen to her, anyway. Certainly not about something like this.

Every time, it starts and ends the same:  one of her brothers, maybe even Rebekah herself, will drag in some human or vampire or witch to serve as a hostage during one of their many disputes with the neighbouring supernatural beings. They’ll chain up this poor sap in a cell, or lock them in one of the many rooms of the Mikaelson mansion. At first, all will be perfectly ordinary. The hostage will beg and plead to be rescued, Rebekah’s family will laugh scornfully from atop their ivory towers, and everything will go as planned.

But then the negotiations don’t happen as quickly as they would like, and the Mikaelsons end up spending a lot more time with their hostage than initially envisioned. They have to tolerate the company of this foreign presence more and more, especially since the hostage often ends up being a key part in someone’s plans, and information is required from them. Then, Elijah or Klaus, or heavens, even Kol sometimes, will end up spending far more time with this hostage than ever before, and they’ll do the unthinkable and fall in love.

Rebekah is no stranger to the plight of the lovestruck Mikaelson. Although it seems impossible, one of her brothers will fall in love, and then face the unsightly issue of having to wrestle with their guilt over letting the hostage go, or the more likely option, they’ll keep the hostage forever as a little trophy or token of their affections until they fall out of love again and the hostage is set free.

This has happened many times over the centuries. No matter how much her brothers love to talk about how they’re so above mortal things like feelings, Rebekah has watched them fall victim to their hearts until an affection becomes an affliction. Normally, she wouldn’t have a problem with any of this, it is rather amusing to watch her brothers fall over themselves in an attempt to woo a human of all things, but more often than not she ends up being the reluctant ear to their monologues, so the whole affair has grown rather wearisome over the years.

And so, when Klaus drags yet another human hostage into the Mikaelson mansion as a cog in one of his many elaborate plans, Rebekah just sighs and mentally starts planning when she’ll take an extended vacation out of New Orleans yet again so she won’t have to deal with all of this. It’s a shame, too. She was just starting to put herself back out there again, and now all of her hard work is for nothing.

Rebekah watches from the balcony as Klaus dramatically announces to the hostage that they’ll have nowhere to go unless they help him. This time, he’s allowing the hostage free reign of the place, since he’s had a witch charm the hostage into being unable to leave the mansion unless Klaus directly allows it. That way, he won’t have to deal with pesky things like vervain getting in the way of his commands.

Rebekah sighs, rolling her eyes at the scene. The hostage seems like a perfectly nice young woman, albeit one that has absolutely no idea what’s coming for her. Inwardly, she wonders if she should start issuing ominous warnings about staying away from the Mikaelson brothers, although if this hostage is in any way involved with the vampiric communities of New Orleans, she supposes they would already know more than enough about that.

A sudden whoosh of air by her side; Rebekah looks up to see Elijah suddenly emerging from the shadows of the hall to stand next to her. “Something seems to be troubling you,” he notes. “Should I be afraid to ask?”

Rebekah just groans. “Klaus has gone and conjured himself up yet another hostage. This is not going to end well.”

Elijah arches a brow. “You don’t mean to tell me you think Klaus will harm her already? He should hold off at least a week or two, he needs her alive.”

Rebekah shakes her head. “Worse. I think he’s going to grow to care for her. Either you or him.”

Elijah chuckles. “Well, I hardly think that being under the protection of a Mikaelson is cause for concern. If anything, it should extend her lifetime a few decades or so.”

Rebekah scoffs. “I couldn’t care less about how long she lives. I just don’t want you two to bother me when you fall in love again.”

Elijah gazes down at the hostage. “You don’t even know if she’s our type. We might not like her in the slightest. Rebekah, have you even bothered to learn the poor girl’s name? That’s meager hospitality on your part.”

Rebekah almost laughs. “Dearest brother, I do not give a damn who this girl is or what she’s done wrong to get herself on Klaus’ radar. The more she stays out of my way, the better.”

With that, she spins on her heel and heads back towards her quarters. This plan is one of Klaus’ mad schemes, not hers, so Rebekah is determined to avoid the whole matter as much as she can. Maybe then she could finally manage a moment or two of peace and quiet around here.

Peace and quiet, as it turns out, are not the sorts of things to hang around the Mikaelson estate, certainly not when Klaus has a few tricks up his sleeve. Try as she might to stay out of the way, Rebekah finds herself brought back into the mix not by Klaus, or even Elijah on one of his many attempts to bring the family together, but by the hostage herself:  Y/N L/N.

Rebekah had been honest with Elijah when she said she couldn’t care less about the hostage. Really, she couldn’t. For some reason, however, Y/N seems to have decided that Rebekah is her best bet when attempting to navigate the complex relationships of the Mikaelson extended sphere. She’s not wrong, really, Rebekah can be level-headed when she decides it’s interesting enough for her, but she can’t fathom why Y/N would seek her out intentionally.

Yet this is precisely what happens. Y/N takes it upon herself to introduce herself to Rebekah out of the blue one day, then keeps tracking Rebekah down to ask her questions or seek advice on how to deal with Klaus. Honestly, it’s ridiculous. Rebekah does not need new friends, nor would she try to find them in a human.

That being said, she doesn’t entirely mind Y/N, not really. As far as humans go, Rebekah would be kind enough to say that she’s one of the better ones. She doesn’t annoy Rebekah like some of the Mystic Falls crew did, and she listens intently whenever Rebekah speaks, as if she truly cared about what Rebekah had to say. After many lifetimes over her brothers overruling her every thought, Rebekah can’t deny that it’s nice to have her opinion valued every now and then.

Just as expected, Y/N’s tenure in the Mikaelson mansion drags on for longer than planned, and what was meant to be a stay of just a couple of weeks turns into one month, then two. Y/N remains, and she remains by Rebekah’s side. They actually exchange jokes, and secrets, and before Rebekah knows it, she actually looks forward to when she crosses paths with Y/N. They get along brilliantly, and when Y/N isn’t with Rebekah–

Well, when she’s not with Rebekah, she’s with Elijah. Practically glued to the hip. At first, Rebekah would jealously tell herself that Y/N would never get along with Elijah, but inside, she knows it isn’t true. If Y/N can win over Rebekah when Rebekah was firmly opposed to the whole idea, then good-tempered Elijah would be a walk in the park to Rebekah’s bloody battlefield.

It makes Rebekah sick. She knows how this play turns out, doesn’t she? Rebekah has attended many showings, and no matter the venue, no matter the star actress, it always turns out the same. The hostage falls for a Mikaelson brother, not sister. In the end, there is love to be shared, but not with Rebekah. Never with Rebekah.

She wants to tighten her hold, but afraid of pushing Y/N away for good, she pretends as if nothing is the matter. Y/N doesn’t seem to notice the war brewing between Rebekah’s ribs. She spends more and more time in Rebekah’s room, talking over some issue or other. Sometimes, when the nights get low and Y/N forgets to leave, she’ll even fall asleep on Rebekah’s bed, or when leaning against her shoulder. It feels personal. It feels like maybe, it might even be Rebekah’s turn to fall in love.

She knows better, though. Of course Rebekah knows better. Rebekah has been through enough lifetimes to know that hope is a very rocky fissure upon which to build one’s aspirations. Even if a lot of her life has been spent daggered in a box, she still knows enough to not be naive. This story isn’t going to go her way. It never does.

She’d like it to, though. She really would. Y/N gets along with the whole family, and Rebekah can’t stop herself from imagining how nice it would be to have a significant other that wasn’t in danger of getting murdered by Klaus or Elijah for once. Klaus, with admittedly great reluctance, has come to value Y/N’s input. And Elijah’s conversations with Y/N seem to increase in number, but mainly whenever Rebekah isn’t around.

That happens a lot, actually. They’ll be getting along, thick as thieves, and then the moment Rebekah turns the corner and comes into their direct line of sight, the two of them mysteriously clam up. Keeping secrets, it seems. From her. And Rebekah reckons she can guess the subject matter quite well.

That’s it, then. That’s the mystery sorted, the grand question of which Mikaelson their latest hostage would fall for. It’s not as if this hasn’t happened before, but Rebekah finds herself far more disappointed than she had for any of the others. Vampires are protective and jealous and selfish, and Rebekah is the worst of them, but still, she swears she had never wanted anything quite like this before. Now this thing, this love, this woman, is out of her reach, and Rebekah’s entire existence has suddenly turned tragic.

Although she should take the high road and pretend that nothing is the matter, Rebekah has never been good at brushing off trivialities. Once, when she was younger, Klaus had told her that she had a ‘gift for theatrics.’ At first, she’d been delighted, assuming her brother believed her to be a master actress, and then she’d realized that Klaus’ words, as they always seemed to be, were nothing but a barb meant to wound her. Then she’d stomped around as usual, doing nothing to raise her spirits and only proving him right.

Stomping around can be rather satisfying, though. When Rebekah runs into Y/N and Elijah deep in a heated conversation one day, she just can’t take it anymore. This time, instead of running away and pretending as if she hadn’t seen a thing, Rebekah purposely walks towards them. Just as before, Y/N’s eyes go wide, and she hurriedly shuts up. 

Rebekah isn’t willing to let it slide, though. She stops in front of them and folds her arms across her chest. “What’s all this about? You look as if you’ve been caught red-handed. Which, I suppose, you have.”

Y/N grins weakly. “Nothing. We, uh, aren’t doing anything.”

Rebekah arches a brow. “That’s hardly believable, now, isn’t it? How about you try telling me the truth for once. I’d certainly like to hear it.”

Elijah claps his hands together. “Actually, I think this is a matter just for you and Y/N, my dear sister. I don’t believe this concerns me at all.”

Before either of them can stop him, Elijah disappears down the hall, gone in an instant. Y/N glares after him. “For an immortal vampire, he’s absolutely terrible when you want someone to stand by you.”

“That’s Elijah for you,” Rebekah murmurs. “He never likes it when we fight.”

“Yeah, well, I can hardly blame him,” Y/N muses. “Fighting with your family seems rather painful.”

“It is,” Rebekah instantly agrees, then remembers that she’s supposed to be upset. “Now, you can’t distract me anymore. Tell me what’s going on, I mean it. I know we’re friends, but you don’t have to hide things from me.”

Y/N’s eyes go wide. “You mean– you know? And you’re okay with it?”

Rebekah feels as if she’s been daggered. She almost wants to turn around and see if her murderous brother is standing behind her, ready to put her in a coffin again for another century or two. Y/N does like Elijah, then. How utterly heartbreaking. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?” She asks listlessly. “I know my brothers, and as far as Mikaelson men go, you chose the one who tends to be the most stable. Nothing wrong with that.”

Y/N’s brow furrows. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

Rebekah looks away. Thinking it is one thing, but admitting the painful truth aloud suddenly seems far worse. “You know. You’ve fallen in love with my brother.”

She isn’t sure how she expects Y/N to react. With relief, maybe, that she won’t have to hide anymore. What Rebekah certainly isn’t expecting is for Y/N to start laughing. “What? No, Rebekah, I’m not in love with Elijah. I’m in love with you.”

The floor seems to have fallen about beneath Rebekah’s feet. “With– with me?”

Y/N laughs again. It’s a lovely sound. “Yes, Bekah, I love you. It’s very easy to do, you know.”

Rebekah shakes her head, still not entirely sure that she isn’t dreaming or something. This certainly feels like a dream. “But– you’re always with Elijah– and you keep sharing secrets with him that you won’t tell me–”

Y/N grins. “That’s because I’m trying to make sure he won’t tell a soul. Elijah figured me out a few weeks ago. Mainly, though, I’ve been trying to persuade him to get me a few things. I want to bake something for you, and Klaus only ever keeps this house stocked with blood and alcohol. It’s sort of horrific, actually. You don’t even have baking soda.”

Rebekah’s brow furrows. “You wanted to bake me something? Why?”

Y/N’s smile turns quiet. “You mentioned it once. You were sad that no one had ever baked for you even though you were always making things for your brothers. I didn’t want you to feel that way anymore.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” Rebekah says softly. “I only mentioned it once.”

“I like listening to you, Rebekah.” Y/N tells her.

And at last, at long last, Rebekah knows why. She’s seen this play before. For once, she gets her happy ending.

vampire diaries tag list: @mayfieldss, @alex-1967s-blog

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[flipphone01st]

This probably isn't an original thought, but imagine for a second if you so please. Mafia 141. Price is the boss ofc, he owns a big big big club and a bunch of other things and he's filthy rich. Johnny and gaz are bartenders at the club and ghost is a bouncer. they are all also involved with Price's Mafia stuff they just do the previously mentioned stuff as like a side thing, you know? Now enter reader...poor poor reader. They or a relative get in trouble with price, having to pay a big debt or something but of course they can't pay for some reason, so instead, price makes them work at the club, no pay. Could be another bartender or a performer (like singing not the other thing you freaks 눈⁠‸⁠눈⁠). But now listen closely. At first the boys are like "look at this fuckin loser." About the reader and then after a little while they're like "...look at this fuckin loser." BUT AFFECTIONATELY! While the reader is just trying to get this shit over with. Thoughts????

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Suddenly I’m a sheep baa

You have such a way with words!!! I love the image of konig sitting down, cooing at his flock, while reader stands to the side, watching… does he even know? Does he know the effect he has on you? Would he even care, if he knew that you’re completely ruined over watching him work… (would he treat you the same, one hand gripping your legs and hands out of his way, tucked up against his chest as his other hand wanders down your chest and against your cunt,,,)

Ahem

Baa.

Baa!!! YEAH I can see it happening in bed as soon as he gets his freak on. It's purely subconscious too! But then I was also thinking how König must be a total softie with all animals... Treating everyone gently and lovingly while reader is pouting & looking from the sidewalks like a third wheel :( Time to pull out the big guns!

CW: Pet play (attempted), dom/sub undertones (implied)

You see him feeding apples to horses, watch how they burrow their muzzles under his arm, he’s always gentle with each and every individual as long as they’re animal and not human... Even the old farm cat gets more love and attention than you :(

He nearly trips on it one morning because it’s purring and meowing at his feet – if a human were to do that they would get slurs and yelling and spit landing on their face... This furry little beast only earns a soft rumble and a low, affectionate “You naughty little devil,” as thanks for showing this bitter cruel man some love.

You even see him pet the cat absentmindedly when he’s doing some paperwork in his office, the loud purrs of the animal making you absurdly jealous. Hearing the roaring content of this cat as a broad, sturdy hand softly pets it from head to tail stirs emotions in you that are wildly inappropriate. You would kill to get this man to pet you, these animals don’t even know how lucky they are...

And maybe he doesn’t even know what he’s missing, seeing only men and animals here at the farm. The only woman, namely, you, is always walking around in rubber boots and dirty oversized overalls. He avoids you like the plague, and treats you more harshly than the young rascals sent here by the state... Men are visual creatures, so perhaps it’s no wonder that he takes no interest in you, some weak miss farmhand who always looks like she came from feeding the pigs... Which is your job here, actually, because König never allows you near his precious horses, let alone the delicate sheep.

So one day, you sneak inside his office and climb on his desk in nothing but your black sheen underwear, now with the addition of a black cat’s tail attached to the bum, with your make up done and wearing a pair of cute little cat ears. This must be the silliest thing I’ve ever done, you think as you push your tits invitingly together while propping yourself on the table like a spoiled house cat would, with your “paws” prettily together and your butt ready to lift from some good petting you fervently wish you’re about to get.

Heavy boots echo in the hall like doom just as you start to shiver from cold. Your heart nearly shoots out of your chest and your tits threaten to spill out of your too small bra, your rival is nowhere to be seen and all the sheep have been sheared so you hope you’ll finally spark this man’s interest in some intimate fun with an actual woman...

He walks in, comes to an instant halt on the door when he sees you, and from the looks of it, the poor man suffers a silent heart attack from seeing a half naked woman on his desk. He freezes right there on the spot, draws air so sharply you can hear it all the way to where you're sitting – all over his papers, innocently like a naughty feline would.

He looks both shocked and furious, but not a word of warning comes out – and how could he be mad at a pretty little thing like you? Donning your silly outfit consisting of black underwear, black cat tail and black cat ears, you even drew yourself some thin whiskers with your black eyeliner...

Your eyes are shy but accusing, they simply ask, why haven't you paid attention to me? Why haven't you played with me, turned me around in your lap any way you like? Where are the soft gazes and shushed praises that belong to me?

And while you were invisible to this man before, you now have his full attention.

His eyes fly to your tits first, then to your tail, they caress the dip and swell of your waist, rise to adore your rib cage and the fluttering pulse at the hollow of your throat, they steal a peek at your cute little ears... There's an endearing flash on softness in his eyes, and when he meets your stare again, he swallows so arduously that the sound of it is audible and thick. A chill runs down your spine as you realize this might not only be the first time in a while that he's seen a half naked woman... This might be the first time he's seen a half naked woman ever.

You give him your most demure gaze, bat your lashes slowly like cats tend to do when they see someone they appreciate and trust, and whisper:

“...Meow?”