#sloooowly reaches towards.

[gangstalia]

i like the thought of seborga / romeo being so stupid yet so smart . like how he might have caught himself swung upside down from a tree and immediately started bawling like a child when he got hit once , always yapping about girls and sexy ppl or just yapping in general

but out of all his yapping, he was the only one who found Ladonia lurking 😭 seb is so good at things nobody would really expect him to, apart from flirting and stuff. (that man definitely has more exes than population) one of those things being swimming!

imagine molossia trying to act tough infront of the micronations, so he dives into the pool anc tries to act all grumpy, telling the others the water isnt even that cold and yap yap (the water is freezing.) but as hes yapping he sloooowly starts drifting towards the deep end, where his feet barely reach the floor, and as he realizes it, he panics.

hes flailing, yelling in many emotions, probably sobbing, he already lost his glasses and his hair is back down to that little wisp of un-gelled mess. . then SPLOOSH seborga is like an olympic swimmer just charging at bro 😭 the deep end is probably deep for seborga too, maybe even deeper, but he’s had to do this for his brothers too. he takes one accidental molossian punch to the face before grabbing onto his wrist and trying his best to pull the flailing micronation far far away from the 7-8 feet deep pool.

so he does, albeit struggling! then, y’know, after molossia complains about his glasses being lost (theyre probably super expensive or super cheap ones, imagine as you wish) seb just laughs and puts his towel down, getting ready to get soaked again. and get soaked he does! because he dives head first into the 7-8 foot pool area, fumbling with the glasses for a couple seconds before hooking them with a finger and pushing himself back up to the blazing Nevadan sun.

his head snaps towards the rest of the crew helping the poorly soaked micronation on a beach chair, and his smile hurts his cheeks! the rest of them kinda stare at him, like “are you crazy?” but he thrusts his arm into the air, sunglasses gripped tightly in his fist and starts swimming back closer to the gang. Going up to molossia to retrieve his glasses, he’s like “i didnt ask u to get these for me. But ty >:(” while snatching his pair.

then romeo proceeds to shake himself off onto the micronations, getting rough specks of water on everybody, much to their annoyance

how do i finish this

[toweringboottreads]

"Mmm...I think I'll give you all a sneak peek at what you can expect~"

Second to last part and man i forgot how good these were to look at LOL

anyway uhhh links hi

Art by TheZangzilla Fic by Me And while it is over and u dont have to, if youd like to donate anything to us :3

Fic under cut v

"God look at me, I'm so fucking huge! Look at you! Look at all of you!" Lori's voice boomed across the globe, entire continents hearing her declaration as she went on. "To think I was stuck on such a pathetic little ball of garbage with filth like you. I knew I was special. That I was important, and this just confirms it! I ate the damn Army and I'm going to crush the shit out of you." She pressed her fingers down in individual points on the land, a city in the center where her palm was primed to go as her growth caused slowly increasing gashes to form, the trenches miles deep into the crust of the earth getting further and further away, dozens of cities partially or completely crushed as the example city could do nothing but wait for the hand to drop. "Maybe you should beg and pray to me since I'm basically your goddess now." She said, letting out a show-offy laugh as her palm slammed down, no grinding or sweeping necessary to know how utterly destroyed the country was getting. Her ass hanging in the air and her knees and chest supporting her meant that she was taking up a relatively small amount of space- yet even then her paws were starting to get wet with ocean water, thighs each in different seas as she she sat up once more. The thought occurred to her to sit properly, to grow and grow until the earth went from a boulder she sat on to a seat her legs and hips could easily crush. But that would destroy too much of it, and too quickly. For what she wanted to do, she'd have to have the smallest bit of restraint…

"…But fuck it, that isn't going to save you. It's insane really, my tits are so huge now and half a hemisphere can't even see 'em! But not for long…" She began to stand up, feeling the absolute wonder of her paws smothering entire countries, toes wiggling and causing storms and tremors that made chunks of the planet fly off into orbit. She wanted to lift her heavy paws up and slam them down, she wanted to crack and crumble the planet right then and there, to jump up and crash down with a force no person had ever conceived of being possible by one person. But no, she simply crouched down, and hopped up as high as she could, feeling the gravity of earth lose it's grip on her as she began to float in space. "God this is incredible. I need to get bigger, I need to become stronger. I deserve it. But first… I can't just let you pathetic things go." She spoke softly, as if to give them the smallest bit of respite she could take away. "I'm going to crush you. Eat you. Destroy you. I'm going to devour you so completely that this puny little dirt ball may as well have never existed.and you know what?" Her monologue could only be overshadowed by her increasing size, having grown to rival the planet itself and not coming close to slowing down. The Earth basked in her shadow completely, the sun illuminating her face and body more and more as the world was only as big as her torso, gravity starting to pull it towards her. As her hands reached out, big enough to cover the largest continents, and she dug her fingers into the mantle and crust, she sloooowly brought it forward, smirking at the world held in her grasp so easily. The world stood still at her speech, watching as her slow, evil laugh continued on, her maw opening more and more as the planet was stuck looking up at their soon to be destroyer. The moon itself- a celestial body Pokemon have been looking up to for millennia, began to drift towards her mouth, which caused a smile to creep up the corners of her muzzle. "You'll just be the first of many because as I continue to ascend, I'm going to find more planets. More Civilizations." Her tongue, as the moon came past her fangs, lifted up to grab it, like a predator lying in wait for its prey. The dusty, nearly untouched stone was quickly coated in her saliva before it was moved to the back of her throat, her supreme growth bringing it down to the size of a gumball. And as she swallowed, her tongue coming up to block it from view, the apocalyptic sound of it crushed and crumbling into a mass of magma and stone in her throat, she finally closed her mouth, her tongue coming out for a taunting lick of her snout. "You won't be remembered," She spoke, the world small enough that her fingers pressed down on one half, and her thumbs on the opposite. "but others will join you soon enough, bugs."

[zayne-snowman]

Oh, heavens above, Yvonne wishes she wasn’t so impulsive and cocky sometimes. She got like, a solid twenty bucks to do this but the risk sure doesn’t feel worth the reward right now. Maybe she can go and try petting a wanderer.

Before she can head off on that wildly stupid idea, she finds herself at the door of Zayne’s office. She knows for a fact that he saw her. She can’t just walk off now. Ugh. The guy has eagle eyes! He sees all! Zayne the terrifying! Zayne the…fuck it she needed that twenty bucks and so she’ll make sure it’s secured.

She walks into his office.

“If anyone asks, this did not happen.”

She’s standing by his desk. Oh. Oh no she’s hesitating. She’s literally just staring at him with…is she pale? Not even blushing. Girlie’s fearing for her life right now. Messing around with Zayne through practical pranks around the hospital was one thing. THIS is another. She groans and goes for a last ditch solution.

Yvonne kisses her fingertips, and slowly reaches out to Zayne’s cheek. Slowly. Even recoiling every now and then. Like a cat sloooowly pawing at something it’s trying to steal or get a gauge on.

At the last minute she moves her hand and taps his forehead. One could swear the woman shriveled in on herself as she bolted out of his office. Absolute worst twenty bucks she’s earned. She's pretty sure she knocked his glasses off of his face when her hand spontaneously changed paths.

Next thing you know, she's texting a certain florist the flowers she wants at her funeral, and for all of her social media posts to be turned into a book. Oh Yvonne, you dumpster fire queen!

~ (Are you there Zayne, its me-) Yvonne <3

Ask game.

Zayne's eyes catch Yvonne through his office door. He stops typing in his computer, expecting her to tell him about a patient who's just arrived, or news about one of his hospitalized patients. Then again, sometimes Yvonne just passes by his office with gossip or intending to mess with him.

By what she just said and her expression, this time it might be none of those options.

"What do you mean?"

There is an uncomfortable silence while Zayne waits for her to do something, anything. He's starting to get nervous, though obviously to anyone looking he has the same neutral expression as always.

Whatever he was expecting, he could have never guessed what she did. The movement of her fingers towards his face is so awkward and slow that for a second he fears Yvonne might actually be pranking him and he's about to get slapped for her amusement. But then she gently touches his cheek, quickly tapping his forehead, and bolts out of his office.

Zayne picks up the glasses that got knocked off onto his desk, pushing them back onto his nose, staring at the wall for a solid minute in confusion. Per her request, and for his own sanity at the strange event, he doesn't bring it up again.

However, the next day, Yvonne receives a box of chocolates with a note attached saying:

I appreciate working with you. Thank you for making my job easier with your lively presence.

- Zayne

[twinklecupcake]

Tell us about Chenguang and Bell! What are their hobbies? Best school subjects? favorite game to either play with friends or rope their adult figures into?

Hobbies

Chenguang had something of a reputation at her daycare, because she was the kid who wanted to do everything. And that stays with her through most of her childhood. She’s a very active kid, though, so gradually she starts to shift towards more physical activities, but she’s undecided which one she wants to go for.

She’s that kid on the playground who starts screaming and running as soon as her feet touch the ground, and 9 times out of 10 she’s going to see something cool and then take off to investigate it. Her ‘explorer’ games have led her off school grounds multiple times…

Which nicely segues into her school subjects…

And of course, when she’s old enough to reach the knobs on the stove without a stool, she learns to cook. It’s a great way for her to relax.

Bell on the other hand is more delicate and quiet. She’s the kid who likes tea ceremony, paper dolls, and sketching. She’s very good at sitting quietly with those tasks, to the point where a lot of the time adults forget she’s even in the room.

As she grows older she starts to get a taste for historical dramas; initially interested in the fashions and the royals, she sloooowly starts to get invested in the political intrigue, chiming in with her own ideas of what the emperor ought to do and why this alliance would be better in the long term.

School

…Chenguang’s best subjects are, without question, Sports and Natural Science. She’s one of her class’s best runners, and she loves learning about animals, bugs, plants, etc.

Chenguang loves learning in general though, it’s hard to find a subject she doesn’t just latch onto and devour.

You might think this means she has trouble sitting still, but surprisingly not.

Bell, as it turns out, loves science as well. When Syntax had to sit for her, she’d often watch him work, and since she didn’t bother him and let him finish quickly (and because okay, darn it, the little bug is growing on him), he would usually be like “Okay, now that that’s finished… Do you want to learn how volcanoes work?”

And that’s how Huntsman found them going all ‘mad scientist’ over a tinfoil volcano with baking soda and red dye, Syntax asking “Okay, now how did this happen?” “The baking soda and the vinegar react when combined, because…!”

(And if you don’t think Syntax isn’t a little bit smug about how Bell prefers what he can teach her, you’re wrong.)

Bell also gets super into history, and as she grows older, forms an interest in fashion design.

Favorite Games/Activity

Chenguang can and will rope you into her pretend games about exploring a new land or traveling to fight a legendary monster. No, that’s no ice cream truck, that’s an ice cream monster, we gotta catch it!

She also will rope adults into hide-and-seek… by not telling them she’s playing, simply hiding somewhere and waiting to be found. It’s caused numerous moments of panic.

Bell will drag people into tea parties.

Huntsman is frustrated by this the first time he’s made to do it but perks up considerably when the kid lowers her teacup, adjusts her paper crown, and declares in her best Princess Voice “I have a problem with the Centipede Kingdom and need your advice.”

When she gets older and discovers her interest in fashion, she makes everyone stand still so she can measure them and figure out some new clothes. This is gently indulged until it turns out that no, she actually made something really good, then it’s like “....holy shit.”

[umbralsound-xiv]

Shopping was on the agenda from the first sun we had set foot here, so we had thought to dedicate a sun to it. From the finery to the food, it was not so much a difficulty finding something to buy, but more, what to best choose...

...I do not think i have spent so much coin in one sitting in all my cycles...

Eir Fellfrost shuffles sidelong through the door; arms encumbered with various bags and boxes acquired from a recent shopping trip. "It is lucky we returned home now." Eir laughs, making his way through towards the table. "...I do not think i am able to carry much more..." Things are settled down with a thump, as he almost drops himself onto the pillow.

Sayuri Aoki snickered quietly as she walked in, hooking her foot into the partition before pulling it shut. She follows along, lowering her own bags to the floor before opting to sink down next to Eir with a smile. ".. I'm sure you could've, but it's best not to challenge it."

Eir Fellfrost leans in to steal a kiss with a grin at his lips, before he pulls out a cloth wrapped box, filled to the brim with individually wrapped snacks. "...Well, suppose there is nothing stopping us for having another look round before we depart home. Though i fear we will already need to bring another bag or two for our return just to carry everything."

Sayuri Aoki leaned closer to let his lips meet hers with ease, a soft snicker leaving her and her head tilting afterwards. “.. Likely, but it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

Eir Fellfrost looks at the vast amount of bags. From ornate silk hair clips, to new chimes for dancing attire; a pair of shoes, and at least another set of clothes, the spree has been quite something, even negating all the snacks bought in the process. Expensive fruit packaged in boxes worth at least thrice what it did back in Eorzea. Eir almost guiltily looks back to Sayuri. "I... May have overdone it. I have never had a lot of money..."

Eir Fellfrost: "...And now i have considerably less."

Sayuri Aoki: “.. You do know I can just buy things for you, yes?” Her head tilts a little further, her smile unusually innocent.

Eir Fellfrost: "You... Can. But i could not ask that of you, Sayuri! As lovely as some of the things are... They are a considerable amount of coin."

Eir Fellfrost: "And i am certain you did not gain your wealth by being careless with it."

Sayuri Aoki: ".. But you're not asking. I'm offering." Her lips formed into a small pout. ".. A large part of it is inheritance, another part is.. from my past here.. And even bits of the coin I gain back home. I can well afford to be a little careless with it.. Or doting."

Eir Fellfrost: "I would not ask you to purchase anything for me..." He leans in, to settle his head sidelong against her own. "...But i would not be upset for it. Happy, actually. It would be more than a little hypocritical if i disallowed it, considering i have given you at least one gift."

Sayuri Aoki beams at you.

Sayuri Aoki: "...Good."

Sayuri Aoki leaned her head against his, nudging it affectionately. ".. Because I may spoil you, just a little."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Spoiling me only a little is to be spoiled greatly, by someone such as you." He beams, humming contentedly. He had enjoyed wandering Kugane and looking at the stalls, but there was a comfort about no longer being on his feet. "...I will allow it."

Eir Fellfrost: "...What did you buy? I was so caught with all the stalls and colours, i am unsure if i saw everything."

Sayuri Aoki: "... About that."

Sayuri Aoki grins madly at you.

Eir Fellfrost: "...Mmh?"

Eir Fellfrost blinks, glancing sidelong, eyes narrowing a little suspiciously.

Eir Fellfrost: "...What did you buy?"

Sayuri Aoki beams at you.

Sayuri Aoki sloooowly leaned away from Eir to reach for one of the bags she had previously put down, dragging it across the floor agonisingly slowly while casting Eir a mischievous smirk as she finally lift it off the floor and moved to instead settle it in his lap. "... I saw you looking at it." She whispered.

Eir Fellfrost watches as she reaches, slowly bringing the bag forth. His expression doesn't shift from a tight-lipped stare to the bag, only softening in surprise as it's settled in his lap. "..." He remains completely silent, blinking to look up to her... And back to the bag.

Eir Fellfrost: "..."

Eir Fellfrost immediately begins to open the bag.

Sayuri Aoki smiled, settling her hands in her lap.

Sayuri Aoki beams with delight at you.

Eir Fellfrost pulls through the paper, settling the soft, wrapped item on his knee. Perplexion knits his brow, trying to puzzle out the item before he'd removed the wrapping, and how to best open it without damaging the paper. "...Well, it is not the ludicriously expensive melon i had considered buying..." He half-jokes, but his attention doesn't shift. He slowly peels back the corner, almost shy of the contents... Before the soft sheen of silk catches his gaze. He reaches to settle his fingertips on the fabric.

Eir Fellfrost: "---Sayuri! This... This is -silk-!"

Eir Fellfrost: "...Nagxian silk, at that. Do... Do you know... How expensive this is?!"

...I have danced in enough attires and finery to be able to tell the difference, and with this... I had felt it, once. Only a small ribbon. Naoko usually kept it on his person somewhere, as a memento of home.

But to have an entire garment of it defied description...

Sayuri Aoki tilts her head, a soft smile on her lips. ".. Well, I -did- pay for it."

Eir Fellfrost unfurls it further; gold thread is embroidered and weaved into the silk, interspaced with swathes of regal purple. Eir's eyes are wide, as he traces his hand over the material; being a dancer, he knew quality well, and this clearly surpassed his expectations. "It... It is beautiful..." He murmurs, looking back over to her, cheeks aglow and a little sheepish. "...Thank you." He lightly nudges his head against hers once again, gratitude plain in his tone.

It has been so long since i have recieved a gift, it...

...How long has it been, now?

...It means more than i could tell her...

Sayuri Aoki merely watched him as he inspected the material, head tilted and a warm smile on her lips upon seeing his reaction. She leaned herself back over to nudge her head back against his affectionately as he sought her out. “You’re welcome.” She murmured.

Eir Fellfrost lifts the garment out, allowing it to drape over his hands. It slid through his grasp, only as he caught it; soft yet strong. Another kiss is imparted to her lips, lingering a little longer, and an almost playful 'mwah' given as he retreated to stand. "...I am going to try it on."

Sayuri Aoki pressed her lips back against his, snickering quietly as he retreated. “.. Do so.” She murmured.

Eir Fellfrost settles his chakrams on the table, and leaps for the stage, slowly turning his head over his shoulder as he slowly lowered slid down his shirt, watching Sayuri's reaction with a lofted brow.

Sayuri Aoki lofted a brow of her own, her lips curling into a small smirk in response to his actions. Her tail sways lightly and ears wiggle.

Eir Fellfrost slowly slinks the shirt from his body, pulling it over his head and ears, to hang by a hand. The whole motion is entirely too slow and deliberate, before the garment is flung back at Sayuri with a laugh -- Before he dips out of view!

Sayuri Aoki chuckles as the garment is thrown at her, gathering it up and rolling it up in her lap as she squinted after Eir. "-Tease-!"

Eir Fellfrost: "Was that a description, or a request?" He chuckles, removing the rest of his attire from out of her eyeline. He holds up the Haori, considering how to wear it, and what to wear it with...

Sayuri Aoki: "... Don't make me come up there and pull off the rest of your clothing, Eir."

Eir Fellfrost: "Now who is being a tease!" Eir calls back; the sound of various items of cloth being shifted here and there.

Sayuri Aoki: "Still you!"

You burst out laughing.

Eir Fellfrost laughs at her protest, securing the wrappings and having found a suitable pair of slacks to accompany the silk. Stretching an arm out to allow the material to flow, he gives a grin. "...Are you ready, Sayuri?"

Sayuri Aoki: "For you? Always."

Sayuri Aoki laughs at you.

Eir Fellfrost: "...So eager. I am flattered." He playfully teased, before slowly walking back to the raised platform. Draped in finery, Eir extends his arms, and offers a short bow - Eastern style. "...How do i look?"

Sayuri Aoki tilted her head at the sight, her ears offering another tiny wiggle while her smile returns and widens. She spends a short moment in silence, merely observing him.

Sayuri Aoki: ".. I'm struggling to settle between pretty and handsome."

Eir Fellfrost: "...I can be both." He hummed, mirroring the grin at her lips. "...It is as comfortable as it is beautiful." He turns on the spot, allowing the material to billow outwards, more than pleased for his new garment. "...I do not think i have ever owned anything so expensive..."

Sayuri Aoki: "You -are-." She beamed a smile. "Well.. Now you do."

Eir Fellfrost: "And i will give it the care and attention it deserves. I should invest in a larger wardrobe back at the house..." He half muses, stepping with a glide down to where Sayuri sat. "...What else did you get?" He hummed, curiously eyeing the bags. "...You at least treated yourself, i hope?"

Sayuri Aoki: "We might have to.. If I'm officially moving in when we get back." She snickered quietly, peering at him as he sat down at her side. ".. I did. I got myself some clothes, too."

Eir Fellfrost: "If i you have yet to tire of me by the time we return home, you are more than welcome." He jests, head tilted at her answer. "...Oh? Might i see?"

Sayuri Aoki: ".. -Eir-." Sayuri pouted. "I have not, and will not, grow tired of you." She leaned her head over to lightly bump it against his. "..Do you.. want me to change into it?"

Eir Fellfrost: "If you would like to show me, i certainly would not protest." He kisses her temple, giving a squeeze of her hand before releasing her. "...I make no promises regarding whether i might undress you again when you show me, however." He playfully muses, grinning.

Sayuri Aoki gave a small smirk, returning a squeeze of her own hand before she reluctantly pushed herself up to stand. "Hah. Nothing quite so.. enticing." She smiled, before moving over to snatch up one of her bags from the floor. "It's more.. something comfy-.. But will be slightly easier to... remove." She sent a glance Eir's way, with a cheeky smirk on her lips as she wandered over to the ledge before hauling herself up onto it.

Eir Fellfrost: "You could make a burlap sack enticing, if you were to ask me." He retorts, gaze following her upwards as she climbed the ledge. "...You mean you do not wear all the ties and straps to challenge me?"

You smirk confidently at Sayuri Aoki.

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Only partially." She offered a small wink and fled behind the pillar with her bag to get out of sight, rummaging around in it to pull out her items.

Eir Fellfrost mock gasps. "You mean i do not get to -watch-?" His tone clung with humour which he'd half meant, as he waits in anticipation.

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Temptation to throw something back at you." She snickered quietly, as she began the changing process.

Eir Fellfrost: "Mh, if it is yourself, i most -certainly- would not complain..."

Sayuri Aoki laughs at you.

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Later."

Eir Fellfrost huffs in amusement, leaning against the table as he awaited her return.

I enjoy the playful bickering; it is a favourite of mine, and i am glad that i have someone to exchange such words with. The goal, often to make the other blush or fluster, regardless of how serious or joking our intentions are when it comes to the toying things we say.

...Mostly, it is to see her smile. Hear her laugh. The greatest victory.

Sayuri Aoki fumbles with her top for a moment, grimacing at herself as she tries to fit it around herself more properly.. inevitably admitting defeat and simply shoving the right arm of it down to hang and her arm to not reside within it before tying the sash around it. ".. Fine." She grumbled for a brief second, before finally stepping out.

Eir Fellfrost lofts his gaze, which widens upon her reemergence from the corner. "...A little more than fine, i should think. Much more..." He grins, nodding firmly. "It suits you, Sayuri. Eastern, fashionable, and practical. And showing enough skin to not quite paint yourself a -usual- Doman girl." He chuckles, extending a hand for her to rejoin him.

Sayuri Aoki gave a weak smile, followed by a faint chuckle. ".. It's a little big.. The top doesn't sit quite right if I have both sleeves on, but.." She raises her arms a little. ".. This way is fine." Her gaze drifts to her bare arm. ".. Not counting the scars on view, I suppose.." She gave a small grimace before hopping down, moving her left arm to lightly run them across the three scars on her bicep, down to the singular one on her forearm. She found her way back to Eir's side, sinking down next to him once more.

Eir Fellfrost: "...You know i do not mind them. Even if you do..." He takes her closest hand, giving it a squeeze before leaning in to press his lips against her own. Slowly, he pulls away, to press a kiss to the topmost scar of her shoulder. "You have always found a way to make the best of your situations. Your clothes are no different; they do suit you. And i do not say it only to flatter you." Another kiss, to the circular scar at her bicep, before he looks upwards to her. "...I love you, Sayuri."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Scars or no."

Sayuri Aoki returned a soft squeeze of her own hand, pressing her lips back against his. “Mmh.. They just land on a list of clothes I can.. Only wear around you.” She murmured, moving her head to lightly nudge it against his as he kissed her scar. Her gaze slips down to the undeniable scar of a bullet, a small grimace taking to her before she peered back at him. “.. I love you too, Eir.”

Eir Fellfrost: "...I hope that one sun, that they do not pain you to show." Trailing down her forearm, he presses a final kiss to the scar that rest there, before he sits a little straighter. "...It is a shame. It is a lovely outfit, and you deserve to wear it whenever and however you please."

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Admittedly, I am doubting it." She paused, ears drooping. ".. You remain the only one who has either seen or felt all of them.. And while I'd like to wear it out and about.." She paused, her left hand settling at her right arm's wrist and slowly sliding up along her forearm, past her bicep and halting briefly at her shoulder, before dipping back over it a little to feel the ridges of her scars on her back near her shoulder. "..A lot is on view, right now.. And the ones on my back leave very little to imagination.."

Eir Fellfrost: "...You could always glamour them." Eir murmurs, softly, gaze tracing over what flickers and pieces of her old wounds that he could catch. "...Or..." An idea seems to spring into his thoughts, as he suddenly moves away, upright. "--Sayuri? Did you bring your art supplies?"

Sayuri Aoki ponders over you.

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Some of them. Why?"

Eir Fellfrost: "...Any paint, at all?"

Sayuri Aoki nods to you.

Eir Fellfrost: "...May i borrow them?" He asks, leaning all the way backwards to hook his fingers around the satchel which they had travelled with, dragging it to pull close. "...I will replace what i use. They are not toxic in any way, are they?"

Sayuri Aoki gazes upon you in deep reflection.

Sayuri Aoki: "Of course." Her gaze followed his movement, brow lofting curiously. ".. It's just my travelling kit, you don't need to replace anything. And no, they aren't."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Good to know." He muses, shuffling through what few things they had not unpacked, to pull out a small palette of colours, and a brush. He briefly raises to his knees, to settle water in a small cup, wetting the brush and deciding on a woody shade of brown. "...May i?"

Glamour seeks to conceal; to obscure. I glamour my own scars for performances so people focus on what i want them to, my body, my movements and clothing, and not the marks on my skin.

But i do not do it in day to day life. You hide too much, people ask questions. And sometimes, the curious still do. The more observant know what my wounds were made by, not that i often let people get close enough. But i rarely give a proper answer.

Wounds from a life long lived.

Sayuri Aoki kept her head tilted, a small smile settling on her lips as realisation hit. ".. If you truly wish to, I don't mind."

Eir Fellfrost: "...I am no great artist. But on occasion, i am required to wear face or body paint for a performance..." The brush makes contact with her skin, her scars serving as a guide. Long, slender branches are painted along her arm and shoulder, even branching around to her back.

Sayuri Aoki: ".. You're free to take from my supplies if you want to practice drawing." She smiled softly. She keeps herself almost eerily still as to not disturb the movement of the brush, her eyes slowly following the path of it. The only movement she offers is her left hand moving to pull her hair aside, leaving better room for him to paint.

Eir Fellfrost finishes the branches with a small flick of the brush, moving to dip it into the small glass of water to change pigment. The next, a vibrant red, where he slowly attempts to paint a flower. It... Is more than a little lopsided. "..."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Perhaps that practise of mine should be flowers..."

Sayuri Aoki gave a toothy smile in response, preventing herself from laughing as to not move too much. "If you want."

Eir Fellfrost: "Bully." He huffs, attempting again... Another uneven blob that might, if one squinted enough, resemble a flower. Eir stares... And abandons the brush. "...Time for a different approach," He considers... Before sticking a forefinger into the paint, and pressing his fingertips over the splotched flowers in a bid to make them more even.

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Only a little." She snickered faintly while he abandoned the brush. She observed with a smile, keeping her head tilted.

Eir Fellfrost repeats the motion; dipping his fingertips into the reddish paint, and pressing them in small, occasional flurries of fingerprints; much more resemblant of flowers. "...I know it is no glamour. But i hope... These allow you to better see you the way i do. Full of beauty, and joy." A small kiss to her lips, once again. "...Only you are far more beautiful than any flower i could draw."

Paint is different to a glamour.

It seeks to highlight. To take something and make it more beautiful. Her scars have never bothered me; or well, not for their appearance. It pains me to think the sun she acquired them, through the myriad wounds she as bore in her short time alive.

But the dead do not scar. I know the tales of most of her own... Difficult ones, most, by all account.

But i would rather she had them and yet lived, than never give me the pleasure of meeting her. Of loving her, and...

...

It is something to think on further. But not now.

Sayuri Aoki gave a tiny huff, before pressing her lips back against his. ".. I don't have a response to that.." She pouted.

Eir Fellfrost: "...You do not have to." He nears her again, lips meeting again with her own; careful to not smudge his work whilst it dries. "...So adorned, does this suit for walking in the open with your newfound clothes?"

Eir Fellfrost: "It need not be right now, of course... We have not long since returned."

Sayuri Aoki leaned in to push her lips a little more firmly against his, smiling. ".. I am.. willing to attempt it."

Eir Fellfrost: "...And if you are uncomfortable, we can simply come back, hm? I can even carry a scarf or something with me." He leans in. "...I did pack your favourite one, after all. Suppose some of my clothes are as much yours, these suns..."

Sayuri Aoki pokes her tongue out at him. "... What can I say.. Your clothes are comfy."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Is that why you are so often wanting to get into my pants?" He smirks at her expression, beaming.

Sayuri Aoki sloooowly lofts a brow. "No, I just enjoy being as close as possible to you."

Eir Fellfrost: "Oh... I see." Eir muses, reaching to take her hand in his own. "We can always be a little closer, should you wish..." He pulls her just a little closer, still careful of the drying paint and their new attires.

Sayuri Aoki snickers quietly, gently intertwining her fingers with his. "I'm happy at this distance, too. As long as I am near you." She scoots closer in the pull, yet keeps herself from accidentally resting her paint coated arm against him.

Eir Fellfrost: "Well, i do not plan to leave nor go anywhere without you. My performance is in a few suns time, and i should probably practise my routine, but..." He sighs, laying back a little. "...I am comfortable. Not quite as comfortable as the pillow pile back home, but..."

Eir Fellfrost: "...You are with me, and i truly need nothing else."

Of course, all the other things are nice. The fancy clothes, the food... Even the apartment fit for royalty.

...But i have done without them, before. And though i hope i never need live without my luxuries again, i know that if it should happen...

...So long as she is with me, i will be happy.

[cursed-legacy]

sloooowly scoots towards kazan. yes, his arms are being held out. puppy-man senses affection in need.

Kazan does not waste any time in reaching his own arm out, and pulling Leon in for a hug; all while continuing to meditate.

[stxletto-creep]

@captainseamech

Sloooowly pushing an energon cube with his foot towards him. That... counts as feeding right?? Plus, he's a bit wary of him

​

The wariness goes both ways. Energon is energon, but this is a completely unfamiliar mech.

As soon as the cube is within arm's reach, it's immediately scooped up and held close. Before High Tide gets a chance to change his mind.

[kaus-quietis]

Cello Anon! Hello again ahahah~ First of all, I am glad you feel comfortable sharing all kinds of questions about the Conjurer here, I hope my blog is indeed a safe space that invites to character contemplation and embracing the beauty of complicated characters. My blog wasn’t always one dedicated to Fedya, but I guess since January 2022 it officially is... Rachmaninoff started it all, I tell you.

For those interested in the first part of our discussions, the link is here. I will copy the text of the rest of your ask below the cut and add my answers there too. I hope you and fellow BSD fans will enjoy this nice, calm talk, largely about Fedya of course.

Cello Anon: “Also, I am not too worried about Fedya dying in the June chapter (that is.. if we have a prison gang chapter,, maybe Asagiri-sensei would change pov again =_=) bc he says so confidently that Dazai can't kill him,,, so it'd be just cheap writing to kill him off the very next chapter lol…. What I am more worried is Dazai might try to force and glean information out of Fedya being pushed into a tight spot now,,, but I have full faith in him, he will wriggle out of the situation and again the Dazai vs Fedya will become a stalemate as always.”

Ngl I have the slight intuition that ch102 will be a flashback chapter or, like you suggest, one that switches the point-of-view. But intuition does not help us much in this talk, because literally anything could happen. Still, writing-wise, I don’t think Asagiri would fall into the trope of killing characters off for shock. This never happened so far (Akutagawa and the entirety of the Port Mafia don’t count, they’re still there, they exist, unlike Odasaku...). And also ngl when I’ve read Fedya saying “You can’t kill me”, my Devil May Cry 5 love triggered and I couldn’t unhear Dante’s crazy battle theme there lol

* I will never get over how cool it sounds especially when sloooowly approaching enemies and letting the build-up grow and grow like in the video until minute 1:00, because in the game, the better you play, the hotter the music gets mmmm. Honestly I am infatuated with the moments from minute 4:00 onwards. To understand what I mean by “You cannot kill me”, just listen till you reach rank S and beyond, the lyrics repeat partially at SSS. Even if other battle themes are cooler imo, like... I’m sorry but Vergil’s theme 💦💦💦 I still love fighting as Dante the most).

Now, Dazai forcing information out of Fedya is indeed a plausible (and in my opinion very likely to be true) explanation as to why press him to the point of killing him. But I suspect Fedya is an “all or nothing” type of person, like me, so things cannot take that turn, or if they will, he will bring hell itself with him.

Cello Anon: “Moreover, we still need to know what his ability is,,, I have read many theories about his ability but none of them scratch that particular itch for me lol. Oh and also, I saw you mention somewhere (I can't remember where) that he might have a long-ranged ability after all,,, seeing the bloody chaos he pulled in Ace's ship, I agree. Let me raise you one more-- this man SINGLEHANDEDLY killed all the guards in the 7th Agency prison as well! Even if, say, Ace's guards were caught offguard, there is no way the 7th Agency guards won't put up a fight and not try to protect their very valuable prisoner?? Maybe, I am overlooking something but I am leaning towards his ability having an additional long range feature….. Not like he needs his ability for his plans anyway. All he needs is a knife (I sometimes wonder if the fandom collectively forgets that Dead Apple exists bc wherever I turn, esp after the prison games started, all I can see is "Dazai at least spent some time in the PM while Fyodor is too weak and has no training at all!" The moves on this man doesn't seem like one without training???) and a gun and he is all set lol. I am amazed at how little he uses his ability and yet manages to be feared as the most dangerous man in BSD currently so much that Dazai wants to kill him off,, not even capture, straight up /kill/ hahaha”

Dear Cello Anon, did you notice how on my blog I never speculate on what Fedya’s ability, Crime and Punishment, actually is? Or how it works? My essay too, it is about Fedya’s personality, and thus it will not touch upon that kind of speculation. Do you know why that is so? It’s because I personally find it meaningless to speculate on his ability on my blog, precisely because it can be anything. I love reading posts who collect information, interpret it and deduce anything they can, and yet I myself refrain from doing so, and just await its reveal by Asagiri and Harukawa themselves. There are plenty of loose threads, one scarier than the other (like you pointed out, he killed the entirety of the Seventh Agency security guards in ch55 by himself, without a scratch, and that, together with “cleaning” the entirety of Ace’s ship in ch42, is not only impressive, but also frankly bonechilling. The post you are referring to is this one, in whose replies dear Alex (the post’s OP) wondered if Fedya has indeed a long-range attack too, as a possibility. While I love the idea, I neither support nor deny it. I simply do not hold any position in the “What is Fedya’s ability?” debate yet. I wait for more information. Lastly, it is indeed fascinating that Fedya used his ability extremely few times so far (or so it seems), and I love him for I admire this character for his strategical use of all resources he has at hand, be it ordinary means (classic stuff like information dealing, spreading false info, hacking, making deals, kidnapping with the purpose of obtaining info etc.), or just a handful of (seemingly disconnected) people. I will also talk extensively about Fedya’s methodology in my essay.

Cello Anon: “And hopefully we get to know his backstory on what actually made him start on this path and more (I bet something something to do with the Great War??) So yeah, he can't die now,,,, and as you say, he is too intelligent to die just like that. He carries a major part of the manga on his back so I won't accept his death without a satisfactory arc if he indeed has to /die/ after all T_T”

I am so excited to know his backstory too! Quite frankly, I will just lose my mind once it is revealed. Now, although Fedya’s age is not yet revealed (if he indeed has an age at all), if he is around Dazai’s or Kolya’s age (anything between 22 and 26, or even till 29 if we count in Shibusawa), then that means he was likely a child or a young teenager during the Great War, which in the BSD timeline took place 15 years ago, if I’m not mistaken. Yosano too (currently 25 like me), after all, was just a child when she took part in it, with Mori exploiting her ability to the point of breaking her spirit apart (ch65). I do talk a bit about the War and Fedya in a section where I speculate about something, but that one still needs to be fleshed out. We’ll see how it will turn out...

Cello Anon: “If this ask spoils a lot of your planned essay, you needn't answer it,,, your views about Fedya and mine seem a lot similar from what I can see :D --Cello Anon (I love this name <3) PS: I am starting to read Pandora Hearts bc of that one scene I saw on your blog and I really like it so far! PPS: I don't know which is the right blog to send you asks sorry! If you plan to answer this, you can answer on either, I will check it out no problem :)”

This was such a lovely interaction! Thank you for the asks, and for your enthusiasm <3 also I am SO happy to hear you started Pandora Hearts, it is indeed such a good, intricate story, with plenty of things to dwell on and all characters are simply superb! I hope you will enjoy the reading experience, as well as following MochiJun as her artstyle evolved and bloomed through the series. (Also yes, for BSD things like these, I much prefer receiving the ask on my main blog here <3) Have a peaceful Sunday~

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

If you are still taking prompts maybe NSFW 12. “Don’t you fucking dare.” plus Love 10. “You’re such a dork.” - “Yeah but I’m your dork.” for Din? 💕

Prompts

The Mandalorian x GN!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Language, Fluff, Helmet is off, Possibly some mistakes here and there

A/N: I made it gender neutral, hope ya’ll don’t mind 💕

A Dork in Beskar

***

“Din look.”

“Hm?”

“No look.”

“I don’t wanna.”

You sigh, planting your hands on your hips. The Mandalorian continues to lay on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow, dark curls a tangled mess, lips pouted and eyes staying shut; the muscles of his bare back loose and relaxed.

“Pleeeease,” you try again. 

He sighs and groans exaggeratedly as he turns on his back—his face scrunches adorably when he tries to adjust his eyes to the light. 

“What is it?” He grumbles and rubs his fist against his eyes. 

“Wait wait wait hold on,” you scramble for the last piece, slipping it carefully over your head, and when you speak it’s filtered, “Now!”

How Din could ever see in this damn thing, you will never know and maybe that is just you, but at least you can still make out the confused furrow of his brows before the grin overshadows it; you want to kiss the crinkles and the dimple that never fails. 

“I’m you now!” You throw your covered arms outstretched; you didn’t slip on every piece of the armor, the man wears a lot, but what you do have on is heavy enough. 

Din’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter as he leans up on his elbow, tilting his head at you curiously. 

“Is that what all that ruckus was about?” He asks. 

“Yessss,” you drawl sheepishly. 

Curls bounce with a shake of his head. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah but I’m your dork,” you counter with a lace of pride. 

“C’mere.”

You take the short steps to the cot and take his outstretched hand, yelping when he pulls you down. “Hey!”

“Oh stop,” he teases. “Although I gotta say, it is a look.”

He slaps a loud kiss on the visor where your mouth would be, making you giggle, and follows with pressing his forehead against yours, briefly closing his eyes; yours automatically do the same. 

Silent seconds pass by and if it weren’t for the helmet, you would be sharing the same breaths right now. Still in this, there is peace—a quiet stillness that used to be so foreign for the Mandalorian. 

“It’s a really good look,” Din continues, voice deeper than before. You know where this is going. 

“Yeah?” Your voice sounds oddly through the modulator. “Why don’t you undress me then?”

The growl is instantaneous. So is the gentle yank of your arm, bringing you fully down so he can roll you onto your back, slanting his body perfectly against yours. With your help he pulls the helmet over your head and gives you a proper kiss, nipping at your lips until you open up to him; his tongue explores your mouth 

“Should I fuck you like this?” Din grunts above you, each word hitting your open mouth. “In my armor? Fuck—” he shudders and slowly grinds his hips against yours, letting you feel the growing bulge in his pants. 

The idea had never crossed your mind before and honestly? It turns you on more than you care to admit. 

“Yes,” you gasp, grinding up into his slow thrusts. 

He trails his lips over your cheek, down your jawline, where he gives you a few nibbles, and finally to your neck. You tilt your head to the side to give him more access, moaning softly when he brushes against your pulse point. 

Then without warning he reaches for your sweet spot and bites down, cupping your jaw to keep you in place as you cry out and arch into him. 

“O-oh kriff,” your voice trembles, arousal pooling deep in your core. “Din—” you pull him up by a small tug of his hair and capture his lips in a clash of spit and teeth, speaking in between pecks. “—just. Fuck. Me. Need. You.”

“Y-yeah,” his hands shuffle in between your slithering bodies, unclasping the button to your pants with liquid ease. “Can’t wait either.”

You help him pull your undergarments down and off your legs, immediately going towards his and palming him with a sultry twinkle in your eyes. He sucks in a breath and stutters in your grasp. 

“If I’d known wearing this would do this to you I would’ve done this a while ago,” you chuckle, giving him another quick squeeze. 

“Fuck, please?” He gasps, rutting in your hand. 

Deciding to be merciful you pull his pants down far enough so that his cock springs free, slapping against his stomach; your mouth waters at the sight. 

Din pushes you down before you can even think of tasting him, muffling your whine of protest with a greedy kiss; his cock brushes against your bare sex and fuck the shiver that runs through you and directly to where you’re aching for him, positively pulsing with a starving need. 

“Ready?” He asks, lining himself up. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and nod, taking a deep breath just before he sloooowly pushes in, filling you inch by thick inch to the brim until you’re so full. 

“Din!” You exhale. 

He gives you a moment to adjust, laying nips and hard sucks on your neck, reaching the hand that isn’t gripping tightly to your thigh down to slide underneath your shirt. 

“Move,” you plea. 

He pulls back so only the tip is inside and slams back into you with a soft grunt, holding himself up with his fists. You let out a strangled moan, the rest of it caught in your throat with the second hard thrust that racks your body upwards. 

Din doesn’t hold back, using almost every bit of weight he has, driving into you with a beginning frenzy. 

“You like that?” He snarls gruffly. “Feel me fucking you s-so deep—maker.”

You writhe under him, not a coherent thought crossing your brain, nor a complete, full breath—he feels fucking amazing, hitting every sweet spot inside you with abundant persistence until your muscles start to tense and shake and heat builds in your stomach.

“I’m gonna c-cum,” you stammer, digging your fingers in his forearms.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Din huffs, slamming his hips harder and deeper into you. “Wait for me.”

It’s so fucking hard to when he’s fucking you like this; grunting and moaning above you, tiny beads of sweat slinking down his chest, towards the apex where a small patch of hair trails down to his cock, driving in and out—slamslamslam and you feel him throbbing and now he’s touching you, applying the right pressure—oh...

“Cum,” his neck strains red as his hips clap against your thighs and lose their steady rhythm. “Cum now.”

Another three thrusts and you do. Hard and long, dragged out by the sweet drag of his cock and then he buries himself deep, cumming inside you and letting out the most obscene mix of a grunt and growl you’ve ever heard come out of him.

Din rolls his hips once, then twice in a lazy circle before collapsing on you, hugging you to him. After a few moments he pulls out of you with a hiss from him and a wince from you; his cum dribbles out of you and your face scrunches at the feeling.

“That—” Din pants, plopping himself down next to you. “—That, is something we’re definitely exploring.”

Your heart skips in excitement.

[janewaykove]

Another MS post....

So it's "that time of the month" where I generally feel like crap. A sheet on a rope being held tight across them, the backs of my legs on a mattress with a comforter and sheet feel like their lying on boards. The burning, the crawling, the aching. The Tizanidine I've been taking helps a lot. I haven't had any more violent leg jerks (the bendy knee kind) since taking it. I still have the tightening of my legs (and arms and back and everything else all at once) where they extend straight downward (towards the foot of the bed). I hate those cos they happen if I just so much as scratch an itch or reach for my sheet.

I usually take half a pill at 3 or 4am, then one pill around 2pm and then one and a half around 8pm so it kicks in for bed. Some times it knocks me out like BAM but other times not so much. After lunch today I got mixed up and took that dose so now I'm zonked.

I've been trying and trying to get my wrist and that arm back to normal. It's still pretty frozen. Tried lying on my "good" side in the bed and wow, that was not fun. I can put the lock on my wheelchair with my bad wrist so that's a bit more progress, I guess. But 10 months is ridiculous. Why do I have to heal soooo sloooowly?!

[ladyfawkes]

A Murder of Snows by LadyFawkes Chapter 2/5 - The Toboggan Incident Current word count: 4278 Story Summary:

Cassandra teases Eugene one too many times about his dislike for snow. Rapunzel’s since been made aware of what the main reason is but she doesn’t know many others that Eugene has yet to divulge. He gives at least 5 examples that include reasons for him to loathe these tiny ice crystals. Each story is successively worse than the previous one.

Chapter Two: The Toboggan Incident

One winter some time after Eugene and his friend Arnie had left the orphanage, the pair were trudging along on a comparably nice-ish day. It had snowed an awful lot the prior weekend, but that day, the sun was shining bright. The air wasn’t frigid and as such, Arnie and Eugene each got a bit stir crazy inside their little warm cave setup in the mountainside. Arnie and Eugene were originally going to head into town when they caught sight of a small child struggling with a toboggan. The little girl had been on the mountain a few times over the past several weeks, ever since she’d received the shiny new toboggan at Christmas.

Eugene and Arnie had originally watched and envied the child because of her family and warm home. But they also knew the other local children made fun of her too. This little girl actually walked with a pronounced limp and all of the others refused to play with her based on that one thing alone. Even her elder brother who was supposed to be watching over her, making sure she wouldn’t fall over or injure herself, would often go off with friends his age rather than minding his younger sister. He typically abandoned her to play alone.

And though he couldn’t explain why, Eugene felt….an obligation to watch over this little brunette whenever her brother would ditch her, so she wouldn’t be left alone on the mountain. Arnie wasn’t so sure….at times young Arnie and Eugene marveled at the cruelty of children, no matter their living circumstances.

After about the third time the girl’s brother ditched her, she had spotted Eugene and Arnie in the trees, watching her. The boys fully expected her to yell at them, to chase them off. Even though they wouldn’t dream of bothering her, she hadn’t known that.

“Hulloooo!!” the girl raised a mittened hand, waving grandly as she could with her feet nearly stuck tight in the fresh powder. “I’m Chelsea! What are your names?” Eugene and Arnie momentarily stared at each other in shock. Townie children were typically encouraged by their parents and others to ignore “street urchins” like Arnie and Eugene. It was a minor miracle that this girl was speaking with them so freely.

“Uh, I’m….Flynn?” said Eugene, giving an alias just in case. “And I’m Lance!” replied Arnie, waving his own arm. The pair continued to watch Chelsea for a few more moments.

“Hey, erm, are you stuck in the snow? Did you need some help climbing out?” asked Eugene as he slowly made his way down the slope. The snow slid easily and sections of it would cascade like shiny bits of frozen sand with each step he took. Chelsea held up her arms and looked down at her lower body, now hip-deep in the white powder.

The girl held up her arms and looked down helplessly at her trapped lower body and shrugged in consternation at her predicament. “Yes, please!!”

“C’mere and hold onto the toboggan, Lance,” said Eugene. At that, Arnie made his way down the mountain in Eugene’s trail. Then Arnie stood off to one side and steadied the sled as Eugene instructed Chelsea to grab the line attached to the toboggan and hold tight so it could help tow her out. Then Eugene reached down in the white powder and unstuck one of Chelsea’s feet and then the other, until the little girl was very sloooowly sliding downhill again, this time on her belly and elbows against the toboggan, with her freshly unstuck feet flailing happily behind her as she laughed.

Arnie and Eugene met the girl at the bottom of the slope and Chelsea stood up to her full still-tiny height and unhesitatingly threw her arms around Eugene.

“Oh, thank you, Lance and Flynn!” she said, her voice wavering. “My big brother Joshua is supposed to be minding me buuuuut he would rather be with his own older friends,” sniffled Chelsea. “I guess I can’t blame him. I am an annoying little tagalong. Mum is busy inside with the babies.” Eugene’s face bunched up in a scowl.

“If you were my little sister, I’d never leave you out here alone,” he vowed. “Yeah,” agreed Arnie, “we know too well what dangers can lay in wait up here on the mountain.”

Unhesitatingly, Chelsea brightened up and invited them to stay and play with her that day, working out a way to exchange towing and other similar services for downhill rides on her new toboggan. After an awkward pause, she could tell they were about to turn her down…..when she instead asked them to wait. She limped across the base of the mountain and into a warm-looking cottage a few hundred yards away.

After a few minutes, a plump sweet-looking woman followed Chelsea out the back door. “Mama, this is Flynn and Lance,” she began, “and they helped me out of the snow after Joshua left me alone. I’m sure I would’ve frozen to death!” she held a hand to her forehead dramatically.

Chelsea’s mother took one look at the boys in their worn-out coats, gloves with holes in the fingers, and ground down shoes. They had much more snow caked on all over in places where there shouldn’t be any….yet they hadn’t the proper gear to keep out the snow. The pair felt a bit embarrassed by her scrutiny.

“Thank you for helping Chelsea,” the girl’s mother said seriously. “Any particular reason why you stopped for her?” she quizzed.

Eugene looked at her in confusion. “We were on the mountain. Saw that she was stuck and clearly needed help. We asked, Chelsea said yes, and so we helped her,” he shrugged and said simply.

“So no thought of reward?” asked Chelsea’s mother.

“‘Reward’, ma’am?” Eugene echoed. “We’re only here at Chelsea’s request.” And the little girl nodded rapidly in confirmation.

“I see,” the woman replied, her countenance suddenly brightening considerably. “I’m Mrs. Thurgood. Do you boys know how to start a fire?”

“Uhh….y-yes? Ma’am?” said Eugene, wondering if this was a trick question.

“Then would you do us the very great honor of starting a fire in the outside stove?” She pointed behind and to their right toward a stand-alone brick hearth with a chimney a ways out from the home. “Everything you need -- flint, kindling -- is out there in that wood chest.” Arnie and Eugene proceeded to get a nice roaring fire started and were thawing out when Chelsea came back out of the cottage and said, “I knew she would like you!” Eugene and Arnie were accustomed to being hated and ran off upon first meeting much of the time.

Mrs. Thurgood returned outside, this time with a rather large bundle of winter clothing. “So long as you boys agree to mindin’ my Chelsea today, she says you may share her toboggan and I’ll let you keep this winter gear. Some of the gloves and mittens are missing their mates but if you both can find any items that fit you, you’re welcome to them. Mittens, gloves, mufflers, coats, and boots!”

Eugene and Arnie stared at one another in shock. “Ma’am, we didn’t do this for any reward.”

“Aye, Flynn, is it?” Eugene nodded. “You didn’t seek any reward so that’s why you’re getting one. Besides, these are castoffs, anyway; thus you’re helping me doubly -- this time by decluttering my home.” And the auburn-haired woman winked at them.

The two boys gaped at one another in awe after Mrs. Thurgood turned around to head back inside and Eugene dove for the pile of winter goods. Eugene and Arnie each found a handsome coat and hat. Although most children complained about wearing mufflers, these boys already appreciated just how warm they could be when properly worn.

Turns out that Mrs. Thurgood’s husband was a commissioned officer away at war. Joshua, a teen, could not be disciplined very well without his father around, especially when Mrs. Thurgood had to mind three other children under five years old. She paid the boys in meals and other perks for minding Chelsea and performing simple odd jobs outside while Mr. Thurgood was away. Mrs. Thurgood was such a kind gem, so unlike the other townie women. He and Arnie agreed they would never steal anything from Mrs. Thurgood.

A few weeks after Arnie and Eugene first rescued Chelsea, when the elder boy Joshua had time to stew over the fact that a couple of orphan children were effectively taking his place at home, thereby making him look bad and getting rewarded for it…..

On this clear day, after the weekend of blizzards, Chelsea wasn’t able to go outside with them. But Mrs. Thurgood was just fine with them borrowing and taking turns with the girl’s toboggan for the day, provided they returned it when they were finished. As such, that meant the boys were traipsing further up the mountain that day for longer sled runs. About an hour into their sledding, Eugene and Arnie had set up for another ride down the hill when they heard a whole bunch of shouting above them on the mountain.

Then they heard what seemed like a slipping-whoosh noise, followed by a deep rumbling.

“It sounds like thunder,” Arnie said, while the boys looked up into a crisp blue sky. Not a storm cloud -- nor any cloud, really -- in sight.

Then they heard some super-loud snapping and cracking sounds as the rumbling grew even louder. Finally, they looked upwards of themselves on the slope and they figured out what it was. A thick 10-ft rolling wall of snow came barreling down the mountain and swept away everything in its path. At the last second, in desperation, they turned the toboggan to face up-slope, and turned it upside down while attempting to shield themselves with it against the coming onslaught.

Poor Eugene and Arnie didn’t stand a chance. ~~~~~~~~~~~~((0))~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait, what?” Cassandra blinked in confusion. “How ever did you and Lance escape the avalanche??”

Again, Eugene nursed his hot cocoa, sipping strategically. “We didn’t,” he answered meaningfully, shrugging off her prying. [Slurrrrp.]

Cass glanced over at Rapunzel; the curly-haired woman threw her hands in the air in exasperation. Rapunzel, who knew that all she had to do was find the correct question, instead asked Eugene, “What happened post-avalanche? Certainly someone dug you out -- you’re sitting here with us now, after all,” the princess reasoned.

“That part I really couldn’t tell you,” Eugene replied. He kissed the back of Rapunzel’s hand. “But let’s see…..I remember cowering under the sled with Lance….and the horrendous thundering noise, the trees snapping like giant matchsticks, being engulfed and tumbling ass-over-teacups in a giant wave of snow.” He wasn’t expecting it, but a chill passed through Eugene as he shuddered at the memory. Briefly, he fell into reverie.

Cassandra wordlessly stood up to take Eugene’s empty mug from him, and surprised everyone by returning it to him with a refill. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

He accepted it from Cassandra gratefully, took a sip….and it helped Eugene far more than he thought it would. “The next thing I knew,” he continued his story, “I woke up in a warm bed with Mrs. Thurgood hovering over me. My left forearm was broken and splinted and I’d been knocked out and unconscious for the previous three days, apparently. The theory was that the toboggan probably smacked me on the arm and maybe side of the head during our tumble. I had a humdinger of a laceration in my scalp that required 20 stitches. Lance’s foot had caught a tree trunk on the way down the mountain and he got laid up too.”

“Whoa,” Rapunzel whispered. “So….do you…..do you have any idea what caused that avalanche?” she inquired timorously.

At that, Eugene’s expression darkened immediately from slightly sullen to downright pissed off. “Oh, we know exactly who caused it and why they did it,” he growled.

Cassandra was still in her rather relentless “poke the bear” mode of curiosity and thus kept egging him on. Though she wasn’t that great with emotions, instinct told her that she was doing the right thing by carefully encouraging Eugene to spill the tea with Rapunzel’s assurances.

“Do tell,” Cass spoke up, “is it anyone I know personally who caused it? If so, whose ass do I need to kick next week when we’re back in Corona?” She punched a fist into her palm.

Eugene’s eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise.

“What?” Cass asked after an awkward pause. “Nobody can mess with you but me,” she simply shrugged, cocking a hip and folding her arms in defiance.

Eugene’s eyes darted downward and he unsuccessfully smothered a grin with a hand that flew up to cover his mouth. He wasn’t accustomed to anyone being actively protective of him except for Rapunzel. Especially not over something that happened to him around 15 years ago…

He sighed, this time without rancor. “Remember Chelsea’s elder brother, Joshua?” Eugene asked as both women nodded. “Turns out he and a few of his best buddies were out to teach Lance and I a lesson for ‘messing with his family’, i.e. actually being responsible, minding Chelsea, and doing odd jobs for Mrs. Thurgood. So ol’ Joshie and his buddies decided that since we’d be flying solo without Chelsea that day, it’d be the perfect opportunity to bury their competition. Literally.”

Rapunzel and Cassandra gaped openly at him, this latest news was what they considered most shocking of all.

“.....what?” Eugene asked quietly, suddenly finding himself massively self-conscious due to their scrutiny. “As a kid on the streets, you get used to unmitigated hate from practically everyone,” he half-shrugged. Cass looked Eugene hard in the eye. On the flip side, Rapunzel’s eyes looked shiny with tears. She beckoned her beloved to switch from his place on the poufy chair and snuggle with her on the poufy loveseat instead.

Otherwise Eugene had just emigrated from the No. 1 Spot to the No. 2 Spot in the place. He was still good…..really, really good, especially with Rapunzel slipping her arm behind his back, somewhere between his shirt and his doublet. Then she leaned right in against him and with both her arms snaked around his waist, Rapunzel smooshed up against him that much closer by hooking her thumbs through the opposite sides of Eugene’s belt loop. Typically, that would be a nookie signal from her...but at this time….as she took turns stroking his arm and hooking her thumb through his belt loop….he could sense that she felt bad for him.

Eugene glanced up again at Cassandra, who by now had raised her booted foot upon an ottoman and was sipping her own hot cocoa, studying him with renewed scrutiny.

And although Eugene usually liked a lot of attention, his goal was to be admired through said attention -- not pitied. If there was even a hint of pity, it made him squirm. His hands subconsciously balled into fists. Rapunzel’s head lifted off his chest and she said, “Your heart sped up. What is it?”

Eugene clamped his jaw tight shut for a few seconds before blurting, “Okay, see this? The way you two are looking at me, right now….” The two girls tried to share a glance without his noticing.

“What way?” asked Rapunzel innocently. “What look?” demanded Cass simultaneously with forced nonchalance.

Eugene groaned and his face fell into his hands. Out of the blue, Cassandra asked, “When was the last time you talked about your past this way?”

“Lessee,” Eugene took his head out of his hands using a finger to tap his lip and pretended to consider. “Uhm, approximately never,” he answered forcefully, his arms folding stoutly in front of himself, as if he were directly challenging her .

“Easy, whoa, Fitzcowboy,” said Cassandra as she cautiously held out her hands in front of herself. “I’m not trying to provoke you. It was an honest question.”

“No wonder this is so hard for you,” Rapunzel said, “if you’ve never told anyone about this stuff before.” She kissed his upper arm and nuzzled into it.

“I...guess I never thought about it before,” Eugene replied softly, his face dropping into his hands. “I just don’t want anybody to pity me. I can’t stand pity.” Cassandra and Rapunzel exchanged a look of incredulity. Cass urged Rapunzel to keep Eugene talking.

Rapunzel reached up and touched Eugene’s cheek. “Is that why you stopped mentioning most of your past? It was after Cass first started mocking you, wasn't it?” Eugene pressed his lips together and stayed silent while further burying his face in his hands; Cassandra swallowed hard, visibly sank ,and looked sideways toward the floor under Rapunzel’s careful gaze.

“I…..I suppose I might have misjudged you, as a person….” glancing back at Rapunzel out of the corner of her eye, the blonde woman egged her on. Cass clenched her jaw and mumbled, “....even more harshly than I originally thought.”

A very stunned Eugene slowly came out from behind his hands to stare at Cassandra. She was studiously trying (and failing) to ignore his own gaze. Again, Rapunzel urged Cass to just….spill the tea already.

“The past few weeks, Fitzherbert, you’ve made it increasingly difficult for me to find reasons to despise you. First, you haul off in the middle of a cursed blizzard to rescue the King and Queen. Second, even though you and the other guys were waiting for Rapunzel’s blessing to go, something tells me that you would’ve found a way to leave anyway, had she refused you. Third….just these past two stories of yours alone let me know you’ve got every reason to loathe snow; yet just weeks ago, you hauled off in a blizzard, were hit by an avalanche, and fell off a mountain, all in one trip. And yet fourth -- here you are with us in the mountains during winter.” Finally, Cassandra paused and said, “I don’t know that I could personally keep subjecting myself to what amounts to my own worst fear at such a level.”

For a few seconds, Eugene studied the dark-haired young woman. The past several minutes, she’d spoken more kindly to him than she had during the prior several months since they’d met combined. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all. Good thing Rapunzel knew.

“Would you two just call a truce, already??” Rapunzel demanded impatiently, causing both Eugene and Cassandra to grin warmly, and glance away from each other self-consciously in spite of themselves.

“How can we possibly say no to that?” Eugene shrugged. “Search me,” Cass replied, as she walked across the room. She and Eugene shared the secret truce handshake that Rapunzel had taught them at the beginning of their friendship.

“I suppose that means it’s time for story No. 3,” continued Eugene. “This time, we’re back at the orphanage….”

[roncheg]

I get those shitty nightmares sometimes with a little bit of sleep paralysis in the end- they are the worst.

My least favourite was abt a dark figure just slowly moving towards me from a doorway while i was laying on my coach, unable to move, terrified to bones (it was a coathanger, i must've slept with my eyes a little open, but ANYWAYS- shitty dream ugh)

Just had another one today, a little basic this time-

i was with my mom and aunt, we were running from some menacing lowly growling darkness (it had a body, but everchanging like a gigantic pitch black amoeba- i didn't dare to take a closer look, anyway it was scary);

We reached a small rackety gazebo (WHY), and i knew it was crucial to lit a fire - any amount would do, it was the only way to salvation- and the amoeba of darkness was sloooowly pushing it's way inside the gazebo all around us - and there was a low table a bit off center with a couple of used matchboxes on it- and i was trying and trying to lit one match after another but they were either broken or burned my fingers and died or won't lit at all; and my mom was trying with the second matchbox but with no awail;

And my aunt (who is usually very composed and good in a crisis), she was just kneeling there, near that low table, her eyes empty and voice hollow, and she said- stop it, it's useless;

And then my mom said- look! There are candles! And there were- hundreds unlit candles swamped in old wax on another table in the middle of the gazebo- like an altar (there were candles shaped as sculls - to be even more horror story basic)))- and we tried to lit them with our remaining matches but they just would not start- their wicks glowing red for a while but when i'd blow on them with shaky breath (i was super terrified at this point) there were only heaps of grey ash flying from somewhere- and then my aunt who was still seating near the first table in darkness, defeated, said in a flat voice - oh, look,

IT REACHED YOU-

AND YES this horrible amoeba of darkness was pulling at my clothes, slowly dragging me into itself- i SCREAMED

And woke up

*screamed irl too, my cats were pretty alarmed 😅

[why-not-a-tickle-blog]

Roman’s Idea is Best

By @barelyticklishlee and @why-not-a-tickle-blog

Virgil was outside sitting in a tree with a notepad. Thomas had a date tonight and he had to list all of the things that could and would go wrong. 

Roman, of course was ecstatic, and Virgil was trying to avoid that at all costs.

Roman was walking in the Imagination. He spotted Virgil, and immediately walked towards him, continuing the argument from where it had left off. 

“Tall, dark, and Emo, hear me out before you run away! I know you don’t like them all that much but just— flowers. What if I compromised, and we did just one? Just one wouldn’t be too much!”

“Flowers? Really? That is THE MOST CLICHE thing to bring to a date. He’ll get slapped. Or pre-dumped.”

Roman pouted. “Cliche? It’s like you’re criticizing my very being! I wasn’t talking about any old flower, we’d only get the most perfect, unique flower. I’d go with Logan through the memory, and be sure to pick one with a real meaning to it!”

“Booooorrringggg.” Virgil scribbled something on his list and dangled from the tree.

Roman frowned, throwing himself on the ground and looking up at Virgil. “Well, I don’t suppose YOU had a better idea,” he pouted.

“... Pay for the meal with the money we would’ve spent on the flower and actually treat him right instead of using cliches to win him over. Just a thought, though, right? I don’t have any better ideas than the PRINCE.”

“Well, of COURSE we’re paying for the meal! I didn’t even know that was a point in contention. I’m arguing for meal AND a flower! We’ll treat him right AND romance him! And I do like your ideas... sometimes.”

“I’m touched.” Virgil said sarcastically. “Also, it’s going to be hard romancing him when we could-“ He looked at his list. “Order the wrong thing and not have the guts to tell the waiter to change it because we don’t want to bother them.”

“Ugh! See this, this is when I do Not like your ideas. Even if it gets to that, we can handle one poor meal in the pursuit of love—- OR! Or I can make a joke about it! Between me and Patton we’ll make a joke that will blow his socks off!”

“Don’t blow his socks off. It’s the first date. Consent and all that.” Virgil smirked. It seemed like he was almost TRYING to annoy Roman.

Roman suddenly had an idea. He stood up. “Oh, come on, you know my idea’s a good one.” He reached out, his hands held like claws, just over Virgil’s ribs. “Admit it. You like my idea.” Roman smirked right back at Virgil.

Virgil’s eyes widened and he shot himself back up on the branch. “Dohon’t.” He pulled his legs up, too.

“Nope!” Roman said, rocking his weight from his heels to his toes excitedly. “I’m waiting right here until you admit my idea is the best. And I can wait allll day~”

“How do we even know this dude likes flowers??”

“Who DOESN’T like flowers???”

“Some people!” Virgil shifted on the creaking branch.

“Oh, really? Who?” Roman shifted, with the creaking on the branch, he needed to be in position to catch Virgil in case it fell.

“Me.” Virgil scooted away from him. “They’re stupid. If you’re getting your SO something, get it from the heart. Don’t get them plants that will wilt in a few days time.”

“Flowers ARE from the heart! Each one has a special meaning, a special message, and putting them together artfully shows your care, and if you’ve spent money on them then it shows that you’re willing to spend money for the one you love. And they do wilt after a few days, but that just gives you more chances to show your love!”

“That’s dumb. I want food.” Virgil gave up and jumped from the tree.

Roman was in almost the perfect position, he only had to move a bit to catch Virgil. “Well, I’m not denying the appeal of an edible present, but you’ve still got to admit that my idea is the best.” 

He shifted Virgil in his grip so that his hands had access to his sides, fully intent on tickling the admission out of him if he wouldn’t comply.

“Roman! Lehet go!” 

Virgil groaned inwardly. He was already giggling? This was going to suck. 

“Ooooh, no, Stormcloud. I’m not letting go until you say that my idea is the best.” Roman wiggled and scratched his fingers at Virgil’s sides.

Virgil squeaked and pushed Roman’s hands off of him. “Nonono- Rohoman! Roman, I’ll hurt you, seriously.” His tone seemed concerned, rather than threatening.

Roman set Virgil down on the ground, sitting on his thighs and trapping his hands underneath his knees. “Can’t do anything like this~!” Roman smirked. “And now I can get you as much as I want!” Roman tickled 

up his sides and over his ribs.

Virgil fell into hysterical giggles, bucking and squirming to try and throw Roman off.

But Roman was stronger than Virgil, and knew how to use it. All Virgil’s squirming did was edge his shirt up and turn his hair into a massive flyaway mess. 

“Come on, Virge~ all you’ve got to do is admit my idea’s the best~” Roman gave a positively evil smirk. Virgil never, not once let his stomach show, and Roman had a sneaking suspicion he knew why. “Or else I guess I’ll have to push this button here.”

Virgil’s face went a light crimson as he shook his head frantically. “It doesn’t do anything! No use! Don’t push it. It wastes your time.” He tried to object.

“Methinks the Virgil doth protest too much,” Roman teased, giving the bellybutton a poke.

Virgil tried to pull his legs up and spewed out a little burst of laughter.

Roman’s grin got even wider. “Aw, does this tickle? This little button I’ve found?” Roman gave a series of pokes in a circle all around Virgil’s bellybutton, finishing by dipping his pinky finger inside and swirling it around.

“SohoMEOnE’S gohoNNA see!!” Virgil pulled at his wrists. His face went a deep red.

“Oh, little Tickle-me-Emo is embarrassed. You know how to make it stop.” Roman grinned down at Virgil’s bright red face. Since he had full control in the imagination, he grew vines up and around them, twining into a closed bubble that couldn’t be seen through. “Unless you don’t want it to stop~”

Virgil, now being closed off from society, fell completely limp in a little pile of bubbly laughter. 

Virgil was stubborn, and that was just a fact. He wouldn’t say Roman’s idea was better even if he had to sit like this for the rest of time. But, that didn’t sound too bad.

Virgil went limp, and Roman was almost worried for a minute, but he was still happy and bubbly and giggling. Roman grinned, and shifted to a more comfortable position. Virgil could get out of it easier, but he was all puddly at the moment, and he couldn’t get through the vines without Roman anyway. 

Roman traced little curlicues on Virgil’s stomach, his fingers dancing close, but not quite into, his bellybutton.

Virgil seemed genuinely happy, which was rare. Being the embodiment of anxiety, he usually wasn’t anything other than worried.

Roman felt very pleased with himself. It was decidedly not how he had anticipated the interaction going, but that didn’t make it any less pleasant. He kept tracing for several minutes, moving up over the ribs sometimes, or down over the sides,

Virgil’s giggles were sounding more loopy every second. He was still thoroughly enjoying it, but he also looked close to going to sleep because of the gentle tickles.

Virgil falling asleep? Now that was just not allowed. Roman used one hand to hold his bellybutton stretched out and open, and conjured a feather, swirling and fluttering it mercilessly.

Virgil shrieked and sat up quickly, trying to stop the feather.

“Uh uh, no, you aren’t getting out that easily!” Roman said, growing two of the vines up out of the ground on either side of Virgil’s chest, to twine together and hold him down to the ground. “You’re in my world, now, Virgil.” 

Roman started dragging the feather in a long, slow spiral, starting from the outside edge of Virgil’s stomach and heading inward.

Virgil’s laughter, as the feather drew inward, got higher and higher pitched.

Roman was laughing himself now, getting closer and closer. But just before he reached it, he snapped, swapping the feather for a softer, more tickly one. He rubbed the end between two fingers, spinning the feather directly inside Virgil’s bellybutton.

All Virgil could do, at this point, was dissolve into hysterics as he was driven closer and closer to insanity.

Roman swirled the feather for only a few more seconds. He didn’t want this game to be over quite yet. He went back to the light tracing, giving Virgil a bit of a break.

Virgil pulled one of his hands out of Roman’s hold and rubbed his bellybutton.

“Are you too ticklish for that spot~?” Roman teased, letting Virgil rub away the tickles. He’d get back to that spot soon enough. “I wonder where else you’re ticklish?” He squeezed and dug his fingers in around Virgil’s hips.

Roman discovered that, while it didn’t make Virgil laugh as much, hips were a key melt spot.

Virgil was melting into a little puddle again. “Who would’ve guessed our resident Emo could be so adorable~?” Roman cooed.

“Ihihi- mm-“ Virgil lost the ability to form coherent words.

“You’re what?” Roman asked, teasingly wiggling his finger just over Virgil’s bellybutton.

“Hmhmhm- Y-" Virgil pulled his other hand out and covered his face.

“What~? I’m afraid I just can’t understand you~” Roman said, dropping his finger down to trace a small circle around the bellybutton and then back to wiggle teasingly. “What did you say?”

Virgil whined and pulled down his shirt, holding it there for as long as he could.

“Now, no one said that was allowed,” Roman said, grabbing both Virgil’s hands. He was able to hold them with only one hand since Virgil had been so thoroughly melted by all the tickling. He sloooowly rolled Virgil’s shirt back up, letting out a low chuckle at the little squirms. He traced feather-light circles around and around the bellybutton. “Now, what were you saying?”

“Youhour ihidea...” Virgil was cut off by a river of giggles.

Roman laughed at the stream of giggles, but it just wasn’t enough laughter. He twisted his finger down into Virgil’s bellybutton, wiggling and twisting and tickling as best he knew how.

“AH- YOUR IDEA IS B-!!” Virgil jerked at his arms and shut his eyes tightly, letting all of his laughter flow out.

Roman kept tickling for a minute, but finally relented. He removed his hands and just smiled, taking in all of Virgil’s laughter. Laughter that he had caused.

Virgil’s arms fell to his sides. But, Roman realized, he wasn’t rubbing away the tingles.

Roman’s smile got bigger. He positioned his hands again, but doubted he’d need them. “I’m afraid I didn’t quite hear you a minute ago. It seemed you were going to say something about my idea?”

“Youhour idea... is mildly better thahan mine.” Virgil crossed his arms.

“Oh?” Roman smirked. He leaned back slightly. “I’m pretty sure that means I get to keep going.” He reached his hands back and tickled Virgil’s knees.

“Ihi said it!!” Virgil kicked at him.

“Oh, no you didn’t!” Roman said triumphantly, moving to get better access and where Virgil couldn’t kick at him. “You have to say that my idea is best.”

“Roman, you a*s!!” Virgil pushed at his back.

Roman gasped. “Virgil! What would Patton say? I simply cannot allow this.” Roman started squeezing up and down Virgil’s thighs and calves, paying special long attention to tickling behind his knees every time he passed them.

Virgil seemed out of it, now. He laid back, not doing anything to stop Roman. He was tired. Really tired.

Roman stopped. Virgil looked exhausted. He moved to lay down next to him. “You about done, Stormcloud?”

“Mhm...”

“Well, I don’t want to tickle you completely to pieces, but I will keep my word. I must insist that you admit to my idea being the best.” Roman leaned over and blew a tickly stream of air at Virgil’s ear.

Virgil hummed. “Whatever... I’ll think about it when I wake up.”

“I bet you’ll wake up pretty quick if I go after your tummy again,” Roman said, setting a finger just over Virgil’s bellybutton, only very slightly touching. “Come on, say it and I’ll let you go.”

“Maybe I don’t wanna say it.” Virgil looked very smug.

“Maybe I don’t want to let you go,” Roman retorted, returning the smug look exactly as he skimmed his finger veeery lightly over the giggle button.

Virgil smiled and scooted back. “Fine, then. Just let me sleep first. Hey, could you summon an air mattress?”

Roman grinned. “Nope. I certainly don’t mind keeping you, and I’ll get you the most comfortable bed in my kingdom to sleep on if that’s what you want, but you aren’t going to sleep until you’ve admitted to my idea being the best.” Roman flicked his wrist and a large feather fell into his hand. “Don’t think I’m above pinning you down and using the feather again.”

Virgil squeaked and stood up, backing into the vines. He turned and pulled at them.

Roman jumped up too, giving a playful growl as he picked up Virgil and wrestled him to the ground again. “Clearly you aren’t too tired for more tickles, since you had so much energy to try and run away.” 

Roman pinned Virgil’s hands and pulled up his shirt again, skimming his fingers across his belly with more purpose. Finally, he readied the feather, spinning it with his fingers just over Virgil’s bellybutton. 

“Last chance, Stormcloud.”

Virgil bit his lip and covered his face. “Mfmf mfmf mf mfm mfmf.” He mumbled, squirming in place.

“I’ll be honest, I have no idea what you just said,” Roman said flatly. He fluttered the feather. “Guess that means more tickles!” 

He cupped one hand around the bellybutton, to hold it still and taut, and spun the feather around with the other, dipping it in and out, over and over, spinning the whole time.

“YOUHOUR IDEA IS BEST.” Virgil burst out through laughter. He grabbed at the vines with one hand to brace himself.

Roman snapped the feather away. “Ah, it’s music to my ears.” He clapped once, and they were immediately transported to the most comfortable bed in his kingdom, which happened to be his own. He flopped on his back onto the bed next to Virgil. 

“Ah, that was more fun than I’ve had in a long while!”

Virgil fell onto the bed in a little heap of giggles. “... Ihi didn’t mean it.” He said, still stubborn as ever. Roman just said he had to say it. Not that he had to mean it.

Roman laughed. “I figured.” He closed his eyes, enjoying the giggles, and looking forward to a short nap before they had to get ready for the date. “I suppose we’ll have to do this again some other time, then.”

“Not if you can’t catch me.” Virgil closed his eyes, slowly drifting into sleep.

Roman smirked. Oh, he’d find a way. Maybe if Virgil was naive enough to wander into the imagination again. Trees could be made to catch and capture, after all. But for now, he’d take a nap, his mind replaying all the giggles and squeaks and laughs. 

Postscript: With Virgil all tickled out and well rested, Thomas had a surprisingly small amount of anxiety about the date, and his creativity just kept coming up with more and new ideas the whole time, making the date go very smoothly.

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: Cleanup (baon)

Summary: Stretch can use a little distraction this morning.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Spicy Flirting  🌶️

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was gonna be one of those mornings. Stretch knew it before he even opened his sockets. He wasn’t more than half-awake and already thoughts were ping-ponging around inside his skull, none of them having the mercy of sticking around long enough for him to actually finish one. He needed a coffee, oh, he had to check on the hydroponics in his lab downstairs today, but wait, the chickens would be waiting to be fed and a shower sounded good right about now and—

Stretch did the best he could by getting out of bed. If he wandered downstairs, eventually he’d bump into something that would hook his attention long enough to do something, coffee, that was it, hold onto that one, coffee, coffee. He had a slippery grip on the concept as he shrugged into his robe and headed out the bedroom door, but that was where it stalled, blanking.

Hello, there.

Downstairs, Edge was moving around the living room with a cleaning cloth in his hand. The brace on his slim leg didn't hinder him at all as he attacked the various shelves and furniture with precision, wiping each in broad strokes.

Stretch usually dusted (ugh) every week or so, but Edge always liked to give the house a little deep cleaning action when he had a chance. Didn’t bother Stretch any, like he didn’t have a few weird quirks hanging around like mental bats ready to fly out of his personal belfry? If it settled something in Edge to give his domain a once over, he was welcome to it.

Besides, it made for a nice little distraction from his own mental bouncy house. Stretch leaned against the banister that overlooked the living room and took a little time to enjoy the view.

The things his baby’s pelvis did to a pair of tight jeans had to be illegal in some countries, at the very least banned in public areas. His t-shirt chose to ride high when Edge rose up on his tippy toes to reach the highest shelf, exposing the consistent ridges of his spine, the dips of his sacroiliac joint. Right where Stretch knew he was extra sensitive and there was a wander down memory lane from last night, of Edge lying bare on their sheets, twisting handfuls of linen in his clenched fists, his spine bowed in a perfect arch as Stretch teased those little hollows with gentle fingers and then tongue...unf. One for the mental vaults, for sure.

Less good was that Stretch forgot to turn down the volume on his mental replay. A happy little moan weaseled its way out of his throat and through the clench of his teeth, and it was loud enough that Edge jerked and looked up, catching him smack dab in the middle of his dual voyeurism.

Busted.

But the scowl that settled on Edge’s face didn’t detract from that titillation, not one teensy little micron.

“hey, babe,” Stretch called down. May as well roll with it, play it casual. This was his house, too, and if he wanted to loom like a creeper upstairs, he had rights.

He was pretty sure Edge wasn’t about to whip out his wallet to buy what Stretch was selling, confirmed when he finally asked, coolly, “Did you need something?”

“nope.” Took some serious skill to pop the ‘p’ without lips, but Stretch wasn’t some amateur here, he was an expert in ‘act casual’. A damn shame that Edge was a professional doubter, years spent training in the arts by his bro.

His frown deepened suspiciously, but a lack of evidence seemed to be working in Stretch’s favor. Edge went back to his dusting and the very second he leaned down to get the struts under the coffee table, the sexy quotient went up by about tenfold. Stretch would have lost good money if he’d bet Edge’s painted-on jeans were too tight to move even a quarter inch, ‘cause when he bent over, they eased sloooowly lower, increasing the exposing gap between his t-shirt and his belt and giving Stretch a welcome socketful of his iliac crests. Shapely angular lines that all but begged for an eager hand to follow that path lower and see where it led.

It was a hell of a disappointment when Edge stood back up, shirt falling back into place…for a minute, barely long enough for Stretch’s hopes to drop before they stuttered back up as Edge reached towards another shelf. The dusting intensified, Edge moving through the living room and Stretch was down to a mental capacity of two; first, keeping from drooling and second, struggling to catch more glimpses of strong, scarred bones as they weaved in and out of sight.

He was hung up on a yo-yo of frustration and want. A needy little whimper clogged up briefly in Stretch’s throat, only escaping when Edge went down to one knee to check under the sofa. The sight of him kneeling there with his head down and the perfect view of his denim-clad ass in the air was asking too much of Stretch’s libido. Every bit of his magic was settling into Stretch’s own pelvis, hot and ready to get to work, and right when he was trying to jangle up enough sense to decide what to do about it, Edge glanced up right at him.

That knowing smirk was solid proof that a high IQ didn’t mean you couldn’t be an idiot. One hasty shortcut later and Stretch was yanking Edge back his arms, that teasing pelvis of his pressed right against Stretch’s as Edge settled amicably into his lap.

“you brat,” Stretch accused breathlessly. Edge’s soft chuckle sent a fresh spangle of want to dance up his spine, and yeah, maybe Stretch could’ve hid his admiration a little better, but why the hell would he want to. He loved it when his baby played the brat, damn well loved it, only for him, always.

“You said you didn’t need anything,” Edge reminded him. The last word broke on a startled gasp as Stretch slid a bold hand up his femur, settling it between his spread thighs and firmly cupping the bulge that was starting to glow at his crotch.

“baby love, i always need you,” Stretch whispered it into the side of Edge’s skull, let the warm dampness of his breath ghost against him like a caress. Edge shivered, the brief clatter of his bones inviting. “you wanna stop with the clean up and get down and dirty instead, you can call me any ol’ time.”

Later, Stretch would swear his soul skipped a beat as Edge murmured, every word laced with soft implication, “So mess me up.”

A giddy ‘cleanup on aisle five’ was Stretch’s last semi-coherent thought for a while and that was a good thing. Better sometimes to not think, to let the physical swarm over him and fill his bones with a languid exhaustion that didn’t have a damn thing to do with his HP.

Cleaning out the busy corners of his ever-twisting mind was never a chore when Edge was around to lend a hand.

-fin

[in-class-daydreams]

Parlay | (Kuroo x Reader) | Chapter 6

- Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (ft. Roommate Kenma)

Word Count: ~1,600

Genres: Fluff, angst if you squint, general buffoonery

CW: Swearing, mention of intoxication, more secondhand embarrassment

Summary: (Y/N), a first-year student attending Tokyo U, is living with her best friend, Kozume Kenma. Little did she know, her life would be turned upside down after being exposed to Kenma’s volleyball teammate and close friend, Kuroo Tetsurou. One wrong move, and the parlay’s stakes only get higher each time.

Chapters: First | Previous | Next

With Oikawa on the court, and with the opposing team so unprepared for him changing the team’s dynamic, the whistle blew soon enough and Tokyo U had secured their victory. The team lined up in front of their school’s spectator section and said their thanks. (Y/N) noticed Kuroo’s eyes roaming the stands as if he were searching for someone. Stating they had a history exam in the morning, Shusei and Tamaki said their goodbyes, though not without Shusei lamenting not getting to meet ‘them hotties’ with (Y/N).

“Kenma! You were so cool today!” The setter caught her in his arms when she nearly tackled him outside the locker room. She continued poking fun at him as he blushed and looked away.

“Hey, hey, hey, who’s this cutie?” the eccentric spiker from before came up to them with the Pretty Number 6 beside him. Kenma sighed at his loudness.

“(Y/N), this is Bokuto Kotarou and Akaashi Keiji.”

(Y/N) bowed, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Both of you played beautifully today.” Akaashi thanked her politely for the compliment while Bokuto struck a power pose.

“Oya, you’re Kenma’s friend? You wanna come get drinks with the team after this?” Bokuto asked. (Y/N) shook her head in embarrassment at the idea of spending time drinking with a group of guys.

“Oh no, I couldn’t intrude on a team event. You guys should celebrate your victory together as a team, not with some spectator,” she protested.

“Please, you wouldn’t be intruding,” Akaashi spoke up. God, even his voice was pretty, “The event isn’t so exclusive. We’d love to have you.” No one can really resist a request from the pretty setter, so (Y/N) reluctantly agreed.

“All right! The cutie is coming to our party!” Bokuto leaned in, “But don’t think I’m reducing you to ‘cutie’, and please don’t hesitate to tell me if any of my nicknames for you make you uncomfortable.”

(Y/N) smiled at his sweet words and told him he’d done nothing to make her feel unsafe. He gave her a grateful smile in return. The sound of squealing reached her ears once more, signifying a certain someone’s appearance.

“Ah, and who might this cutie be?” the newcomer asked teasingly, holding out a hand for her to shake, “It’s been a while since our court was graced by a girl so pretty~”

Playing along, (Y/N) took his proffered hand, which he turned and brought up towards his lips. Iwaizumi’s large hand came into view when it smacked into the Oikawa’s face.

“Stop being greasy!” he scolded.

“But Iwa-chan, it’s just (Y/N)-chan!” Oikawa whined.

“I don’t care. Don’t flirt with girls that way. It’s not classy.”

“He’s right, Tooru. Your charms have gotten a bit cheesy since we last saw each other.”

“Ehhh? (Y/N)-chan, how could you say that?!”

By then, Kuroo was freshly showered, and ready to have a drink and relax. Exiting the locker room, he saw (Y/N) surrounded by his teammates.

“(Y/N)-chan, how could you say that?!” he heard Oikawa cry. (Y/N)-chan… -Chan? -CHAN?? Did she and Crappykawa know each other somehow? He frowned at the way she giggled at the brunette’s antics because… because she was flirting with him right in front of Kenma, of course! But, man, Kenma didn’t look concerned at all. In fact, he looked completely relaxed. Kuroo wondered if there was something he was missing.

~~

“Sksksksk.”

“I’m tiktok famous!”

“Bitch lasagna~”

“WHAT ARE YOUUUUUUUU?!?! AN IDIOT SANDWICH???”

“AN IDIOT CHEF MAKES FOR AN IDIOT SANDWICH!!!!”

“Apple bottom jeans.”

“Boots with the jeans.”

“Shawty got jeans, jeans, jeans--”

“No, it’s ‘SHAWTY IMMA PARTY ‘TIL THE SUNDOWN’”

“Uhmmm nooooo….it’s ‘yo nice skirt’ get it right sksksks.”

Ah, boys. They are an enigma. College guys were just tall 8 year olds with muscles and student debt. Drinks was being hosted by the tall, intimidating, taciturn spiker that introduced himself politely as Ushijima Wakatoshi. The man in question was lounging near the minibar. The apartment was clean and modern, if not somewhat minimalistic.

Bokuto and Nishinoya, the energetic libero she’d met upon arrival, were somehow already shirtless and… having a flexing match, maybe? (Y/N) wasn’t entirely sure. It hadn’t been 20 minutes since they’d arrived, and (Y/N) had the sinking feeling that both of them were doing this completely sober. To the right of the large studio apartment, Kenma, Kuroo, and Oikawa were playing Pario Marty 8.

“Wahh, I wanted to be Peach!”

“Just be Rosalina!”

“But Tetsu-chaaaan, I wanna be the O.G. badass!”

Akaashi walked up to the counter and sat down beside her. He offered her a drink, which she declined, saying Iwaizumi was bringing her one. Settling into his seat, Akaashi followedr her line of sight to the group of idiots yelling at each other across the room.

“They’re always so loud like this. I’m not sure why,” he sighed.

Iwaizumi appeared to (Y/N)’s left and sat down as well. “Probably because they share one tiny brain cell between the two of them. Kenma has his own that he refuses to share.”

(Y/N) thanked him for the drink he handed her. Amused, she asked, “A whole brain cell? How many do those two have, then?” She gestured to the shotgunning challenge Bokuto and Noya were having.

“Zero,” her companions said in unison. The three of them laughed. They made small talk together about their majors, the match they played earlier, the tea house. (Y/N) thoroughly enjoyed the pretty setter’s company as well as getting to spend time with Hajime-kun again. Despite the overall chaos in the room, there was a certain warmth that came from spending time as a group like this.

“So it’s only 12:30 and Kuroo’s overly competitive ass has had EIGHT drinks already, right?” Bokuto had come down from his adrenaline high, humbled by his tragic loss to his much smaller opponent, and the owl-haired boy was content with embarrassing his his close friend, “Bro thinks he’s just tearing it up on the dance floor, but by then he was just kinda swaying a little, but it’s all good because he’s hot (no homo), and this group of college girls is in a booth makin’ eyes at him because, again, even if he’s deliriously drunk, he’s still hot as funk (no homo times two). Eventually, one of the girls struts over - all confidence and long legs and dang - anyway, they flirt a bit, and he gets invited to their table (tfti). I end up sitting at the bar and getting a drink, and when I look over, my boy is sloooowly leaning in, and I’m like, ‘Okay, Tetsu, get it!’ The girl’s friends had left the booth the give them a little privacy, but they’re still kinda watching from afar because, friends, yanno, and the girl has her eyes closed and she is ready for this kiss aaaaand...” Bokuto stopped for dramatic effect. “Homeboy misses her face entirely and faceplants into the table, dead asleep.”

His audience erupts in laughter and the wild-haired boy’s expense. Speak of the devil, as he walks up right as Kenma is starting his own story.

“At lunch today, (Y/N) was taking his order and--”

“DON’T TELL PEOPLE ABOUT THAT!” Kuroo screamed in horror. His teammates laughed even harder. Enjoying catching their scheming teammate off-guard, they pressed harder.

“What did you do, Tetsu-chan? Did you get lost in (Y/N)-chan’s eyes?”

“I bet he did that ugly laugh and scared her off.”

“Maybe he flirted too hard and got slapped.”

They took turns smacking Kuroo on the back, making the boy bury his head in his arms. He felt a smaller, softer hand, not like any of his teammates large, beefy hands, running its fingers through his hair. The tension in his shoulders immediately dissipated until he realized that only a few people had hands that gentle and only one who would actually comfort him right now.

‘(Y/N), I appreciate the thought right now, but if you keep touching me, I’m going to dIE,’ he screamed internally. His teammates ended up dragging (Y/N) away from him to play some sort of game he wasn’t really listening to the name of. As those delicate fingertips faded away from his scalp, he looked up discreetly to find (Y/N) already looking at him. 

She gave him a smile, that smile he was beginning to see whenever he closed his eyes. He smiled back, but his eyes dropped to where hers and Oikawa’s hands were intertwined. The (Y/N) Kuroo had been spending time with as of late didn’t seem like that kind of person, but he knew men could be sharks, and he needed to make sure he wasn’t one of them. 

For the sake of Bro-Code, and for the sake of Kenma’s relationship, Kuroo decided he had to really try to distance himself from her. 

He had to, before he found himself in too deep.

~~

(A/N): Hello everyone!! Things will start to take a turn that will make you wanna slap Kuroo through the screen...but for those of you who are Oikawa stans (I am too), we’re planning an Oikawa x Reader as well :) Once again, thanks for all the support it really means a lot to us! See you soon!

- Admin Kiwi-Chan 030

Friends and Best Friends help you out when you’re drunk, but only best friends expose your ass afterwards. Hope you enjoyed!

- Admin Mango-Chan

~~

Taglist: @joyful-jimin @nekomas-kuroo

[twokinkybeans]

Jar Of Dirt Chapter 5: Silk Rope [Starker Fanfiction NSFW/18+]

Kink/Sexual Warnings: Phone Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Name-calling, Verbal Humiliation, Shibari Other warnings: None

All Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10 ... Masterpost (More to come!)

---

Chapter 5: Silk Rope Tony is pacing through his lab, biting down his lips harshly. He doesn’t understand why the new AI he’s developing won’t connect to F.R.I.D.A.Y. for him to run a test through it. It’s annoying as fuck, and he really doesn’t feel like dealing with this at all. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., what’s wrong?” Tony mutters as he looks through the data again. It should be working just fine. Both programs are fully operative, so it’s the connection between the two. That’s the issue here. Meaning it would take a long ass time to get it fixed. “There’s a dis- Incoming call from Peter Parker.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. announces, making Tony look up instantly. He grabs his phone from the desk and picks up.

“Hey, Peter, you alright?” He’s a little worried, his lover never calls him this time of the day. Not when he knows Tony is working.” “N-No? Not exactly? I can’t find it, Mr. Stark.” Tony gulps when he hears the soft, whining sounds falling from the boy’s lips. “Are you jerking off right now?” He sits down at the edge of the table, raising his eyebrows and enjoying the distraction. “I am, how did you know?” “Baby, you’re moaning.” “Oh- right. Uhm. Well. I can’t find it.” Peter says, this time a little quieter. Tony shakes his head. “Can’t find what, exactly?” “My, uh, prostate?” Tony’s eyes widen and he mentally curses at himself for getting hard at the image of Peter in his bed, naked, his fingers pushing inside his hole. Oh, if only he could see him right now. He shifts, trying to relieve some of the pressure of his pants straining around his now half-hard erection.

“And you need me to help you find it, is that why you’re calling, baby boy?” “Y-yes. Need your help.” Peter pants desperately. “Want to be ready for you, daddy. Want you to fuck me this weekend.” Tony sucks in a sharp breath and squeezes his eyes shut, a hot surge of arousal coursing through his veins. He’s been trying to ignore that exact desire, not wanting to force it onto Peter before the boy would be ready. Sure seems he’s ready for it now. God. His muscles clench, making his dick twitch. “Baby,” he breathes, “-I wanna fuck you so bad. You’re so perfect, such a good boy, opening yourself up for me. Tell me, what are you doing right now?” “I’m on my back, trying to finger myself, but I just can’t reach deep enough; it’s so frustrating!” “Okay, baby. First things first. Are you on speaker?” “N-No?” “Put me on speaker, want you to use both your hands to pleasure yourself,” Tony orders his lover, and he smiles fondly when he hears the boy shifting around, cursing and muttering that he can’t find his AirPods. “Alright, I’m back, I’m ready. Teach me how to do this right, Mr. Stark.”

“I want you to put your feet up the wall first, letting your knees fall down to your chest.” Tony waits a few seconds until he hears Peter stop moving around. “Now, I don’t care how much lube you used already, you’re gonna use more. Drop some down onto your hole and get your fingers wet and ready to go.” He hears the bottle of lube getting uncapped and the soft, shaky breaths leaving Peter’s mouth as he gets himself ready. “And now?” “Now, you’ll stroke your hard, pretty cock, slow and steady…” “Uh-huh,” Peter breathes out. “And sloooowly… You start pushing your first finger in. How’s that feel?” “G-good-” Peter pauses to take a few short, shaky breaths. “Wish it were you. My fingers are so small.” He groans, “Can I add a second one, please, daddy?” Peter’s voice leaks arousal and Tony can’t help himself as he unbuckles his belt so he can get access to his own cock. “Slowly, sweet thing…” Tony cups his own dick in his hands, feeling the precum trickle out of the tip. He holds back a moan as he orders Peter to add the third one too, stretching himself good. The boy’s whimpers go straight to his cock, as always. There’s just something about his voice, so angelic and sweet yet so filthy at the same time. Tony lazily strokes his shaft, leaning nonchalantly against his desk.

“Now, you’ll push your fingers in as deep as you can…” Tony smiles dreamily, head hanging back. “And then, once you’re there, you’ll curl them and slowly move the tips up and down until you find your spot.” Tony has his eyes closed, seeing Peter on his sad, tiny twin bed, feet against the wall, surrounded by posters of science and- and- Tony bites his tongue to hold back a moan when he remembers Peter has a poster of him on his wall. He wonders if Peter’s facing it. Legs on either side of the paper, displaying himself to Tony’s image. The idea makes him light-headed, his hand slowly increases its pumping. “I can’t find it,” Peter whines quietly. “It’s just… How do you even- Ooh!”

Tony can’t hold back anymore and moans out loud, wishing he could see it happening. He can see it in his head, though. Vividly. Peter’s so hot when he’s horny, and the pretty sounds he makes leave nothing to the imagination. “Did you find it, baby? You make yourself feel good?” Tony groans as he increases the speed of his hand around his cock. “Y-yeah, thank you, daddy, fuck, I wish it were you. I imagine it’s you. Will you jerk off too, please? I wanna hear you.” “Got good news for you, kid,” Tony pants as he increases the mic’s volume with a flick of his wrist. Peter moans obscenely in response. “Your pretty sighs and whines and moans had me hard since the start of this phone call, baby. You have no idea what you do to me.” Tony growls. His free hand roams up under his shirt to pinch his own nipple. His face contorts with pleasure. “D-daddy,” Peter moans. “Feels so good, am so close- Sound so hot-” “Hmmm,” Tony croaks. “You love my voice, don’t you, baby? Love the way I tell you what to do, love to let it make you hard, throbbing and leaking and desperate for release like the good little slut you are.” “A-a-ah!” Tony can hear Peter’s bed creaking in the background. “Yes, daddy, yes, yes, so good, sooo-nnnngh!” “Are you watching daddy now, sweet thing? His image staring down at you from the wall?” “Mhm-mhm-mhm!” Peter’s so drunk on lust he can’t stop chanting. “Bet you looked at the same poster on that night you accidentally called me,” Tony growls as he pinches his nipple hard, sending a surge of both pain and arousal through his entire body. “Wishing it was me right there with you, telling you all the filthy things I’m telling you now. How you’re such a good boy for me, a good little slut, my good little slut.” Peter cries with desperation and Tony can hear the lube squirting as Peter fucks himself harder and harder and faster and faster. “And then I picked up. Completely unaware of what you were doing to yourself. Completely oblivious to the fact that you liked me the way I liked you.” Peter pants erratically, every breath a short, filthy moan. He must be right on edge now, waiting for Tony’s last words to tip him over. “And when I said your name, what did you do? Tell me, sweet boy.” Peter seems to have stopped breathing. “I- I came-” he pushes out. “Good boy…” Tony coos as he bends forward, his pumps getting him right to the edge. “And again, now… Come for me, Peter.” His voice is dark. “Come for daddy.”

Peter wails, and the mental image of him spilling his hot cum all over himself tips Tony over the edge, ruining his clothes. He groans loudly and has to catch himself from falling, his knees buckling, eyes blown wide. Peter’s still panting on the other side of the line and Tony manages to stand up straight when he hears Peter scoff out one, high pitched, panicked laugh. “I-” Peter pauses. Tony looks at the floor, trying to collect himself from the orgasm that he just had when Peter says: “I just kicked a hole in the wall.”

-

Peter grins as he walks into the tower. It’s Friday, 3pm. He knows Tony will still be working, but since Peter’s last lecture got canceled, he figured he’d come in early. He knows his way around the place anyway. He can’t wait to see Tony’s face when he comes in later, realizing he’s here. Usually, he comes in after dinner on Friday. Which is why he decided to cook for Tony. He’s not a great cook, and he can’t say the dishes he makes at their dorm are very fancy, but it’s nutritious, at least. He does pay attention to it being healthy. He has to, to keep up physically. He just hopes Tony will like his burrito bowl.

Tony, about an hour later, looks up in confusion when the scent of freshly cooked food starts seeping into the lab. He frowns, wondering where it came from. As far as he knows, there’s no meetings or anything else that could explain why he should be smelling this scent. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., are there any guests?” “No, Mr. Stark. Just Peter Parker.” “What?” Tony’s eyes widen. “Where is he?” “In your private suite,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. answers, making Tony chuckle out loud. He looks at the pieces of tech in front of him. Those would be just fine laying there untouched for a couple days.

Once he walks into his suite, the smell gets even stronger. But what really gets to him is the way Peter is slightly moving along to the music he’s playing while stirring in the pan. “Hey, baby.” “Tony! You’re here!” Peter beams as he lets go of the wooden spoon, running towards Tony and wrapping his arms around the man tightly. “I missed you,” he whispers into his chest. Tony returns the embrace, holding the boy close and enjoying the calm enjoyment settling deep in his bones. Sometimes it scares him how much he cares for Peter. How much he truly, and utterly loves him. “Missed you more,” he whispers into the boy’s curls and kisses the top of his head. “What are you making?” “Burrito bowls. Is that okay?” “Hmmm, never had any, but sure sounds lovely. Smells amazing too. What did I do to deserve this treat?” Peter shrugs, looking up. “Just being you. You make me happy. You always treat me, so why not do something back?”

Once they finish their bowls, and Tony reassuring Peter a thousand times how much he loved it, Peter licks his lips and looks at Tony, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “I don’t want to sound like a horny college kid, I mean, I am-,” Peter chuckles, “-but, can we pick something from the jar again?” “I love my horny college kid, please, would love to try something new with you. Been thinking about your lovely moans all week.” “Oh, you’re so smooth, Mr. Stark.” Peter grins, but he can’t hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. Tony wiggles his eyebrows and spreads his arms. “That’s me, the one and only.” Peter huffs. “Hush, go get the jar,” Peter playfully pushes the man off “-and take that ego with you.” “Hmm, you know how to talk dirty, babe.” “Oh, you wish.” Tony laughs, kisses Peter’s cheek and walks off to get the jar. He loves the bright energy from Peter, especially now that he seems to start feeling more and more confident each and every day. Last week shook him to his very core, and he’s been working at it every day to let Peter know just how much pleasure he gives him. They’ve been texting, calling, at every opportunity. Some of those things have definitely put a bit of a strain on his comfort zone, but that’s a good thing, he figures. It’s incredible how Peter’s changed him for the better. He’s still scared shitless about the possibility that one of his kinks might come up today, but so far, Peter has shown him so much support. Peter’s brave, he tries the things he wants to. Tony wants to do the same.

“Alright, your turn to pick, boy.” Tony hands the jar to Peter, and he laughs at the excited look on Peter’s face. The boy sticks his hand inside and pulls it back out within a second, just grabbing the first piece he feels. Tony’s throat feels very dry all of a sudden when he sees that, as he feared, this is one of his own. For the love of God, please, let it not be one of his heavy kinks. He wants to try those with Peter, but he needs more time to accept that Peter wants him to enjoy those. Tony’s not quite there yet.

“Can I look, Mr. Stark?” “Hmmm,” Tony nods, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach, “-tell me what it says.” Peter turns the paper around and looks down in confusion. “Shi… Shibari? What’s that?” “Japanese rope bondage,” Tony answers slowly and watches Peter’s mouth go ‘oh,’ “-it’s an art form, actually. But used a lot for sexual bondage as well.” “I… have no idea how it works, but please, show me?” “You want to try it?” Peter nods at that and offers Tony a reassuring smile, he knows this is the first kink that Tony put in there and how insecure it can make the so put-together man feel. “I definitely do. I would love to feel what it’s like to be restrained. And, uh, if it’s art, I’ll be pretty too!” “You’re always pretty.” Peter waves his hand as if to shoo Tony away. “Oh, youuu.” Tony grins unapologetically and takes a step closer, bridging the gap between them. “You wanna choose the rope? I have to admit, I got quite a collection.”

-

“And then, if I pull the rope through this loop, you’ll have a knot that’s rather easy to untie for me. But you won’t be able to loosen it from your end of the rope.” Tony smiles and shows off what he’s trying to explain to Peter. The boy’s on his back on Tony’s - their - bed, his hands in front of his chest, elbows touching. He’s looking down at the fancy, intricate knots that tie his arms together. He can see why this is an art form, it’s gorgeous. It makes him feel pretty, too. He also really likes the feeling of the way the rope restrains his movement, immobilizing his arms entirely. In the weirdest way, it makes him feel safe. Perhaps because it’ll be easier to let go without the fear of him possibly hurting Tony. Maybe because it makes it easier to surrender into his submission. Probably a lot more things he can’t put into solid thoughts right now. He chose a fancy, silk-like deep red rope. It’s soft on his skin, tight around his arms. The color really sticks out against his pale skin. He listens as Tony explains more about the ropes, finishing up his last knot and then admiring his work. “How do I look?” Peter beams. Tony licks his lips. “Like you’re a fucking gift. My little present to explore.” “Oh.” Peter gulps, biting down the moan that’d been rising in his throat. “You’ll unpack me then?” “Not physically,” Tony answers, his voice low and rough. Last week, Peter had been asking for Tony to fuck him this weekend. Time to offer it to the boy now. “If you let me, I want to fuck you. Unpack each and every layer of your pleasure.” A soft whine escapes Peter’s lips. “Please.” “Please, what?” “Please, daddy.” “Good boy.”

Tony sits down on the bed, on his knees, placing Peter’s legs on either side of him. His hands softly trail up and down Peter’s skin, causing goosebumps to rise. Tony chuckles as he pets the thin hairs standing up straight, and Peter jolts slightly. “T-Tony.” “What is it, boy?” “Tickles,” Peter whines. Tony ignores Peter’s protests and continues to tease him. His hands glide up Peter’s legs towards his center, and Peter gasps when Tony nearly gives him the attention he yearns for but instead moves past it. Tony’s fingers walk up to Peter’s toned torso, his breath hot and slow on the boy’s sensitive skin. The billionaire skillfully evades the knots with each “step” he takes and Peter tries to arch his back, hoping to get more friction. He’s partially held back by the tight knots binding him together, and he shuts his eyes, a frustrated frown scrunching his face together. Tony’s teasing is symmetrical, just like the rope art he bound Peter in. Both hands giving only the slightest attention to either side of Peter’s body. “Is it growing, Peter?” Tony asks rhetorically. “Your need to be touched? Are you yearning for me yet, sweet thing?” “A-always yearning-” Peter breathes. “-For your touch, daddy. A-always.” Tony hums content, slipping his index fingers under the rope, rubbing Peter’s skin under it with slightly more pressure than he put on the boy’s body before. Peter twitches at the attention. “Such a good boy, always saying the right things to make daddy happy…” Peter nods, eyes still screwed shut. “Want you to be happy- want to be your good boy.” Peter forces out the words, trying not to whine too much. Tony smirks and brings his head down, closer to Peter’s chest. His fingers slip out from under the rope and trace circles on Peter’s skin, higher and higher until he hears the boy gasp.

“You like it when I touch you there, don’t you? Such sensitive little buds for me to tease.” Tony flicks Peter’s nipples at the same time, drinking in the lovely moans Peter makes. “You sound so pretty when I touch you…” Tony kisses Peter in the middle of his chest. Feathery light, tongue slipping out briefly to taste the salty sweat on Peter’s skin. His thumbs rub rhythmical circles over Peter’s nipples. “Makes me never want to let go.” “Don’t let go, daddy, please,” Peter pleads. Tony trails a wet kiss up all the way to Peter’s jawline until their lips meet. It’s hungry and passionate, and fuck, this kid tastes so good. Peter’s dick is painfully hard, Tony knows. His hands move away from the nipples, tugging at the ropes and knots as he makes his way down. His hands stop right above Peter’s soft bush, and the boy bucks his hips involuntarily. Tony glances down as he moves his kiss back over Peter’s neck, leaving the boy a gasping mess.

“Want me to touch you there, sweet thing?” Peter nods frantically, pulling at his restraints. “Please- please, daddy, please.” Tony takes one long breath through his nose. Peter is so good for him. Such a perfect little sub. So pretty, all bound and completely at Tony’s mercy. Daddy’s mercy. Without warning, both Tony’s hands glide over Peter’s shaft. Once. Hard. Fast. Peter gasps, eyes blown wide, trying to arch further into Tony’s touch, but he can’t. Tony has let go of him and Peter’s entire body is on fire. Screaming. He needs to be touched. “Oh…” Tony coos. “So beautiful, Peter. You really are a work of art.” Peter can only let out a soft whine as response as he closes his eyes again, feeling his aching cock twitch against his lower abdomen. If only he could reach down to relieve some of the pleasure. Tony spreads Peter’s legs a little further and marvels at the boy’s flexibility. “You’re going to make me lose my mind,” Tony growls, his hands tightening their grip on Peter’s legs and pulling him closer. Peter’s bucking his hips up, a pleading look on his face. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, he’s been already teased for so long. But Tony’s not done yet. No. Peter is going to have to wait just a bit longer. Tony wants to drag this out for as long as he can. He wants him to remember his first time forever.

“Do you like this, sweet boy? Being completely at my mercy? Bound in ropes and knots and ties almost as pretty as you are. You must be aching to touch yourself now, aren’t you? Or are you aching to touch me?” Peter whimpers at Tony’s words, nodding up and down desperately. “Well… You can’t.” Peter takes a sharp breath, the head of his dick red at the lack of attention. “Look at you, at your twitching cock, you’re leaking for me and I barely even touched you.” Tony throws his head back triumphantly. “Such a slut.” “D-daddy,” Peter whimpers. “Please-” “Please, what?” Tony repeats. “Fuck- fuck me.” Tony leans in towards Peter’s chest again, kissing one of his nipples. Softly at first, but when he licks the tip, the most beautiful moan falls off Peter’s lips. “In due time, pretty boy,” he coos. “I’m going to enjoy you first.” When Tony moves to Peter’s other nipple, his hands lift Peter’s legs over his shoulders. His kisses are wet and sloppy, eliciting the filthy noises from Peter that he loves so much. His hands tug at the ropes around Peter’s chest before moving down again, squeezing Peter’s ass once before slowly nearing where Peter wants him.

“Oh, god, feels so good-” Peter manages to get out. “Please, more, daddy, fuck!” Tony bites down slightly on Peter’s nipple, causing him to swear. The precum is leaking from his cock at a steady pace now, and Tony quickly wipes some from Peter’s abdomen before bringing his index finger to circle the boy’s hole. Peter’s a sweating, crying mess and by God, isn’t he absolutely divine. “Here I go,” Tony playfully raises an eyebrow, but his irises tell a different story. He purposefully ignores the growing wet spot in his own underwear, as always. How in the world could he put himself first if there is such a gorgeous boy on the bed? Whining and moaning and whimpering for Tony- for daddy, to give him pleasure. And boy, is Tony planning on giving his Peter Parker all the pleasure he deserves. He gently pushes in one finger, waiting for Peter to get used to the feeling. He unclenches around the billionaire relatively quickly, and Tony holds back a moan, thinking about how his little slut has been prepping his hole for Tony to destroy all week. Tony stops kissing the boy and leans back to sit up straight. He wants to see Peter fall apart for him before he fucks him. He wants to see the look on the boy’s face. Desperate. Tony starts to pump in and out of Peter agonizingly slowly. Enough for the boy to feel good, not enough to make him see stars. After about ten pumps, Peter’s breath turns ragged.

“Mzzr- Stark- Daddy-” Peter’s voice is slurred, eyes still closed. His mouth hangs open, and every so often, it curls into a pained smile. “What is it, Peter?” Tony replies nonchalantly. “Please, please, faster. Touch- mm-- g-spot.” Tony grins and has to admit he’s a bit taken back by Peter, referring to it as such. Would Peter like other feminine references too? Tony would have to find out some other time. Not today. Today he’s gonna focus on making the first fuck as mind-blowing as he can. The look on his face is near-evil when he continues his teasing. “Oh, I don’t think I can get to that right now, you see…” Tony pulls out to add a second finger. “I’m not going to touch you where you want me the most. Do you know why?” Peter shakes his head violently, and Tony kisses his leg. “Because you’re not desperate enough.” The vibrations of Tony’s voice shoot through Peter’s legs, up to his dick and it throbs in response. “Bu- daddy-!” “We both know what you’ve been prepping for, sweet thing. Do you really think I’m going to hit that spot with my fingers today?” Peter still has his eyes closed and doesn’t notice the lubed up dildo Tony grabs from the side of the bed. Without warning, he takes out his fingers and pushes the shaft in as far as he can. Peter’s eyes open wide, and another small spurt of precum trickles out of his cock when he realizes what Tony’s doing. Tony knows his stuff, though, and Peter whines when he notices Tony skillfully angles the fake dick away from Peter’s spot. Tony growls. “Tonight’s the night I will take you. I’m going to fuck your virgin ass until you’re screaming for me, Peter. Would you like that? Would you like to be mine and mine alone? You were already bound by me… Might as well get bound to me.” Peter can only chant in response. “Yes- yes- yes- yes!” “Tell me how you want me, Peter. Can you do that? Tell me how to take you and if your answer satisfies me, I might just do it. Replace this piece of junk with the real deal.”

Peter gasps, trying to buck his hips. The rope creaks, and for a brief second Tony fears Peter might snap them with his super strength. His boy is good for him though. He’ll hold out. For now. Something inside Tony wishes Peter would break the ropes. Gives him a good reason to get even prettier ones, and he could add it to the hidden pile of things that Peter broke because of the pleasure Tony gave him. Tony looks down at Peter, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead, his hair damp, sticking to his face. He’s red as a beet. His shade complimenting the red ropes around his body as Tony keeps pumping the dildo in and out of Peter’s pretty hole. “Daddy, wanna make you feel so good, please, fuck me, fuck me hard. Break me, daddy,” Peter gasps. “More,” Tony growls, pumping the fake cock faster and faster with each of Peter’s words. “F-fuck, daddy, please, fill my hole with your cock, I wanna feel you throb inside me- Come inside me.” “More.” “Daddy, please-please-please, I need your cock inside me, I need you to fuck me, please, fuck your cockslut, fuck, fuck, fuck!” “Good boy.”

Tony pulls out the dildo and swiftly pushes into Peter’s readied hole himself. Using the leftover lube from the dildo and his own precum to glide right into Peter, who gasps when his daddy immediately hits the right spot. The sensation renders both men speechless, panting, and moaning softly, and Tony can’t help but lean down as he watches the pleasure wash over Peter’s face. He rolls his hips slowly, relishing in the feeling of finally having his pretty Peter Parker clench around him. Tony pushes his hands through Peter’s hair, and he goes in for a soft and passionate kiss. No more words are exchanged. There’s nothing left of their dirty confidence. It startles them both, but this might be even better. Both overwhelmed by each other; they make love. Peter clenches and unclenches around Tony in a steady rhythm, gasping with each and every thrust hitting him right where he wants to. His restraints somehow forgotten, yet still there. He feels safe and warm and all he can do is moan into the sweet, tender kisses his lover peppers him with.

After a little bit, Tony takes his mouth off Peter’s, and with a shaky breath, he confesses. “I love you, Peter. I love you so much. I would give you the world, but I can’t cause you are the world.” New tears glide down Peter’s cheeks. Tears of happiness. Tears of love. Tears of feeling loved. Every part of his being is enveloped in Tony’s adoration for him and he lifts his head off the pillow to continue their soft and sweet kisses. “And if I were to give you the world?” Peter breathes against Tony’s lips, sticking with the symbolism. “I would cherish it.” Tony presses a kiss on the corner of Peter’s mouth. “Take care of it. Keep it warm and safe. Make sure it knows it is loved. That he is loved,” Tony sighs back. “You have me, Mr. Stark- Tony. You have me. I am yours.” Tony slowly increases his pace. “As I am yours.”

Their breathing goes faster and faster, their kissing giving them barely any chance to take in air. Peter’s seeing stars. The overstimulation on his skin, the wet, sloppy kisses, Tony thrusting into him in the exact right way. Tony moans into him and moves his free hand down Peter’s pretty restraints. The boy gasps when Tony’s long, rough fingers wrap around his shaft and start jerking him off at the same speed Tony’s pumping into him. It doesn’t take long for Peter to turn into a shaking mess. “Are you close?” Tony asks quietly. Peter nods slightly. “Yes, please, don’t stop,” he pants. “I won’t, baby boy…” Tony’s mouth moves to start sucking on the spot below Peter’s ear, where he knows Peter is very sensitive. Peter moans desperately in response. “Want you to come with me,” he whimpers. Tony smiles, his pacing becoming slightly erratic. “Well then, my sweet Peter…” Tony whispers in his ear before licking a long stripe along the shell. “Come.”

Peter gasps as he explodes all over his torso. The bottom few ropes being covered in cum. Tony hears a few cracks, and he knows Peter must’ve ripped a few of them. The way the boy clenches around him makes Tony freeze as he shoots his hot cum into Peter’s tight hole, filling him up. His face is scrunched up with his mouth open, jaw clenched. He rides down his high and slowly lowers himself to lay down on top of Peter. They’re entirely still for a moment, their fast-thumping hearts slowly pacing down. Peter’s slightly trembling, though, and when Tony looks up at him, he’s met with Peter’s teary puppy eyes. “Peter,” Tony whispers gently, wiping the tears off his cheeks. “You okay, sweetness?” “Y-Yeah,” Peter manages, soft pants still leaving his lips. He bends his knees to press Tony against him with a bit more force, needing to feel him. “I… Haven’t felt this loved by anyone. Ever. It’s so overwhelming and-” Peter sniffs, “-I never quite believe how much you say you love me, but now I could literally feel it.” “Oh, baby.” Tony breathes, tightening his embrace. His eyes are stinging too now. Fuck. “I got you. I’m always gonna be here for you. You’re, and I’m not exaggerating, the love of my fucking life.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to keep his shit together. “Took me a long time to find you, but as long as you’ll have me, I’m not letting you go. You’re my baby boy. I love you.”

When he pulls out of Peter, the boy whimpers at the loss. “Shhh, I got you baby. Let me help you clean up. You’re one messy, pretty boy.” He unties the knots that are still intact, getting Peter out of his bindings. There are some slight marks in his skin, but after a quick check, it’s clear there are no rope burns. Good. He grabs the towel he put to his nightstand earlier and carefully wipes both their cum off the boy’s chest and legs. “How you feeling, you hurt anywhere?" “No, I mean, I guess I feel slightly sore, but… I like it?” Peter smiles happily, sticking his arms out to urge Tony to come cuddle him. “I’m okay, Tony. Thanks for checking up on me.” The older man lays down next to Peter and pulls him into his side, dragging the blankets over their blissed-out bodies. The boy snuggles against him, resting his head on Tony’s chest. Tony smiles, stroking the boy’s back, tracing the skin ever so lightly. Peter shifts a bit, getting more comfortable. Tony freezes when he feels Peter’s cock rubbing against his thigh, hot. Warm. And hard.

“Honey, you hard again already?” “Yeah, why?” Tony blinks, dropping his head to the side to stare the boy straight in his eyes. “Wait a minute. You don’t… Need time? Did it even… Soften up?” “No, it didn’t? I mean only a little at first, but- wait, time for what?” Peter furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Oh, God. He really doesn’t know what Tony’s talking about. “Tell me, Peter,” the man starts slowly. “-how often do you usually jerk off in one go?” “Oh, uhm. I guess five is usual? Eight or nine if I’m really feeling it.” Tony huffs out a surprised breath. Sure, Peter’s still young. Kids his age have less of a refractory period. But this is impressive. “What? What’s wrong?” “Nothing’s wrong, uhm, that spider bite may have enhanced more of your eh… Abilities, than you think.”

“You mean you’re not hard right now?” Peter’s hand creeps down Tony’s crotch without any shame. Tony bites his lips at the boy feeling him up, trying to tone down his own embarrassment. Sure, he’s old. He knows he needs more time. Peter’s just exploring. It’s okay. Peter’s eyes widen. “I’m not normal?” “I wouldn’t put it like that, but, yeah. Most people, not even people your age, would be able to do that. Sure there’s some, but it’s rather unheard of.” “Oh. Shit. How often can you come?” Tony laughs at that. “At my age, being a boring human man without superpowers? Once. Twice, if I’m lucky. But I definitely need time in between.” He shakes his head, grinning, the knowledge sinking in. This is gonna change things up so good. “Peter, I have a new idea for the jar.” “W-What?” “You’ll find out.” Tony presses a kiss on the top of Peter’s astonished face and ‘accidentally’ brushes his hand past Peter’s cock. “You’ll find out.”

--- More: Chapter 6 Masterpost