#All I have are my weak work friendships
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#Last night my best friend devastated me by saying the quiet part out loud - she doesn't have space for our friendship anymore#She said it in a nicer more empathetic and loving way but the fact remains#Why is everyone ok with losing me as a friend?#All I have are my weak work friendships#my good friend two states away#and a friend who goes to brunch with me#The friends I see the most regularly are my boyfriends best friends#I don't have anyone other than my mom to text about how my day was#I feel so alone#I feel so disconnected#I don't understand why I'm not a person worth befriending and maintaining as a friend#why am I worth forgetting and discarding?#I know I'm devastatingly introverted to a fault but I think that's just an excuse to not try to get to know me.#I wish I had a community
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What if. Hear me out. It’s not likely. But what if all the scrying eyes in Moonrise belong to Gortash, including the one sent with Balthazar
#look listen I’m cooking#like man is a terrible ally you get into act 3 (spoilers btw)#and immediately have to go deal with the newspapers bad mouthing you because he told them to#and at his coronation he immediately steps between you and your companions (as a Durge. Tav doesn’t have to deal with him outting them)#and he doesn’t tell you about a bunch of shit like the iron throne and the fire works- and while they aren’t necessary I still want to hear#about them >:(#but. and hear me out. it’s heavily implied that the scrying eyes (at least in act 1. cannot speak for act 2) are Gortash’s#man found out his dead partner is alive actually and just conviently kept that to himself (assuming that Durge got caught by an eye)#(also side note this all also goes for a Tav just without the background friendship stuff)#but listen- him keeping the knowledge that durge is alive to himself to keep Orin and Ketheric off of them because they’re weak rn#and then conviently the scrying eye that went with Ketherics right hand man- who is on a mission to secure his immortality btw- just so#happens to die in the Shadowfell#and listen. that could’ve happened legitimately#but also I like to think he let it happen because he is- in a round about kind of a way- looking out for Durge#or trying to help a Tav because he recognizes Ketheric and Orin for the sinking ship that they are#(so were Durge and Ketheric to be clear Orin just sped up the self destruction by a lot)#anyways could be a stretch- (though I’d like to think it does that fun thing where it helps him and the protag so it never really gets#clarified as being straight up helpful for them#I just want him to be a half decent ally to Durge lololol#this was a random thought I had and my brain immediately decided it liked it#bg3 spoilers#Enver Gortash
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Every day I grow closer to throwing my phone into the river and when I do I won’t fucking regret it
#i have been. dodging scams all morning#i don’t have any fucking money please just leave me alone#my friendships have been rotten to the fucking core#my mind poisoned#what the fuck is the point in having a smartphone when a fliphone still lets people contact me but doesn’t fucking make my life worse#not that I could afford a flip phone anyway. or service. why would someone want to scam me specifically when I posted my account overdrafted#you can SEE I don’t have money why do you BOTHER#SCAM SOMEONE RICH YOU FUCKIN MORON#alas that the desperate make for such easy targets for the heartless#it’s been so hard to keep going and every day for two months something has happened to convince me it isnt fuckin worth it like its ONLY bad#but god or fate keeps dangling juuuust enough hope in front of me that I keep going. it’s been like that for eight years#and I’ve fallen apart in that time completely. my hair is gone and my teeth will be gone soon too#my bones and joints will follow suit they’re already deformed and weak#the ringing in my ears only gets louder. i haven’t known the familiar peace of silence in years and it’ll only ever get further#and I’ll never afford the medical or psychological care to actually help those things#why bother??? I’ll keep bothering out of spite and stupid foolish hope but I still don’t fucking know why I bother when it never gets better#and it might not! hope is called hope for a reason sometimes shit just doesn’t work out#i could suffer on for abother year or five just to have it all fall apart even more. no payout#hell does exist on earth for some people. if I die and there wasn’t ever joy enough to outweigh everything then my hell was real all along#and I will have been fuckall stupid enough to suffer it for years instead of dying in high school like I planned. or college. or after.#so many times life pushed me to the edge and I crawled back just for things to get worse. every time#and still I hold onto my hope like it’s all that ever mattered. and if life turns out that way maybe it’ll be all that ever did#false hopes and a terribly misplaced heart#fate willing we all find peace
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Doodle I did of my girl Juliet earlier
#keese draws#lobotomy corporation#oc art#not super happy with this but I do enjoy looking at her so I can lower my standards for her#at least I feel like I have a better idea of her general shapes now#I spent hours and hours today on the lob corp grind and I think Im Finally ready to actually move forward with they story#Ive also been thinking abt my nuggets during their lor eras and thats been fun#in particular its been fun to think abt my ogs because half of them are experiencing their crash from finally being free from lob corp hell#and the other half are like frolicking in fields and making friendship bracelets and have made peace with their past and upcoming futures#and that half is the half that are all just godawful people who do not deserve that peace and happiness while the people they actively#traumatized are just left to deal with it#this is mostly abt juliet and loki they both suck I love them sm <3#juliet is the one thats caused more active harm tho since shes that type of boss that will obsess over those she thinks have ~potential~#and once youve caught her attention you are guaranteed to have a horrible time as she will get what she wants out of you no matter what#she doesn't even work on abnormalities anymore just just breaths down ppls necks and fights when need be#loki is very similar in that regard he puts a lot of pressure on his team to provide the results he wants#hes less likely to like. directly psychologically torture those who are under him. but he still isnt a good boss.#hes also more openly rude and disrespectful towards those around him because while neither respect anyone but eachother#loki much more frequently openly states that fact to ppls faces because he feels like everyone around him is wasting his time#now loki actually does legitimately like a few other ppl he works with which is smth that cant rly be said for juliet#but hes also the one whos always on team 'lets murder the newbies for science' so y'know#ding is like his least favorite person here and its like 30% because he specifically accepted her into the info department because he#planned on getting her killed to finish off some research on a tool abno that was being worked on#but she survived the process so now she just like actually works here and he despises her despite the fact that shes rly good at her job#juliet doesn't usually send ger guys to die on purpose but if they do die she doesn't care#she simply feels that if they die early they were weak links anyways#she will still be 'nice' to newbies and to all of her coworkers for that matter but she still has quite the bad reputation regardless#some newbies do fall for her polite act but anyone whos been here for more than like a few days knows that she doesn't give a shit abt them#theyre both doing fine in lor theyre just like we may have lost everything but at least we have eachother :) (mason wants to strangle them)
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I have to add Archivist Wasp and its sequel Latchkey by Nicole Kornher-Stace. (Both those links lead to Weightless Books, an arm of the incomparable Small Beer Press that sells drm-free versions of numerous small presses' books for ease of reading and to avoid the amazon monster; to tout the awesome of Small Beer and Mythic Delirium, both primarily responsbiel for publishing Kornher-Stace would be a post of its own, but look them up if you're unfamiliar because they've provided some of the most envelope-pushing, queer-heavy scifi of the last decade.) Archivist Wasp is in the "destroyed earth" rather than the space category of scifi and...well, Amal El Mohtar can sell it better than I ever could:
An Archivist has two jobs. The first is to hunt and catch ghosts in order to learn about the precataclysm past from them; the second is to defend her life and position against “upstarts” — the other girls marked by the goddess Catchkeep’s claw-shaped scars at birth — once a year. Wasp has been Archivist for three years, and wants nothing more than to escape a dismal life of killing her sisters and obeying the Catchkeep-priest — so when an unusually powerful ghost asks her to help find his former partner in the underworld, she agrees. But, as is so often the case with the underworld, she finds both more and less than she bargained for. More than anything else, this book is sharp. You could cut yourself on the prose — Wasp’s world is one of thorns, knives, edges of thick, broken glass, a constant background-hum of pain that sometimes swells into a shout. Wasp’s perspective absolutely thrums with tension and violence, but also aches with a fierce, hollow loneliness to break the heart. The longing and gratitude for the smallest beginnings of true friendship make the betrayals more vicious, and the stakes just keep rising. I burned through this book in about three hours, desperately rooting for her. It’s also a brilliantly constructed narrative and world. The gods are cruel and absent. The underworld is a maze in layers, a twisting, turning palimpsest, one that allows Wasp to descend almost archaeologically through time by literally experiencing her ghost-partner’s memories. The pre- and post-apocalyptic worlds reflect each other in shards and fragments, all the more powerful for being subtle, for their resistance to being spelled out. It was also keenly refreshing — especially in something that’s ostensibly YA, where the Love Triangle of Doom is so annoyingly pervasive — to find a book in which all of the strongest, primary relationships are friendships; where friendship has the narrative, motive force usually reserved for sexualized romance. I very much wanted to see the A in QUILTBAG represented in this column, and this is a fine example: while the connection between the ghost and his (female) partner is intense and loving, it is never represented as sexual, and sex is in fact completely irrelevant.
Sci-fi books where a queer woman has the ghost of an annoying dead guy in her head
*Misery is nonbinary (she/they) and who’s in her head is not dead or a guy but I’m counting it, okay
#y'all these books! I first read Archivist on Audible as narrated by the magnificent Abby Craden and fell utterly and entirely in love#with Wasp. hard and jaded. telling herself this just. is what the world is. until one fight too many. when she chooses gentleness damn the#consequences. and Stace doesn't sugarcoat that those consequences are very nearly her death or terrifying domination by a man who now#sees her as weak pray. and yet! even as she has to ally herself with those she's always been told are her natural enemies--ghosts--there#is a part of Wasp reaching for empathy. not easily or naturally. and often she breaks as much as she fixes. but again and again she tries#to be better than who the world has told her she can or should be. and all this growth is interwoven with realistic#disability#and so! so much ghost/human banter. and friendships spanning generations and terrible. terrible loss. they are books I can go years without#rereading and still remember vividly; books I will gush about given the slightest excuse because they and their disabled protag mean so#fucking much to me. gush and gush and still not find the words. and same with Memory Called Empire. fuck this book! I read it with its#premise of memories of the dead which linger. both guide and curse. but mostly guide amid my grief. and the idea that the protag got to kee#and draw from the dead when so many people were telling me to move on. that memory could be a blessing. means so much to me I can to this#day not reach out to the author because I'll just start crying helplessly. that she's also allowed to have a complicated queer romance wher#the fact she is from a colonized nation and her partner is working for the colonizers and yet they love one another desperately is never#either sugarcoated nor made to feel wrong--and that it mirrors the protag's identification with the colonizing nation even as she never#forgets the wrongs it perpetrated on her own. that all that came atop this message of grief and that it is a different! polyamorous#romance driving the story arc means so much I can't talk objectively about the book because critique makes me defend it like my first-born#one of those pieces appearing in your life precisely when you need it most (and I'm sure the others are wonderful but I had to put in my#Teixcalan#and Wasp recs especially)#Arkady Martine#Nicole Kornher-Stace#book babbling#possible future reading#because I can never! have enough of this genre#lit geekery
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remembering how i not only filled my school folders with drawings, but also i drew elaborate things on my desk all the time out of boredom, and i actually met the girl who went to the afternoon shift in the same classroom and spot i sat at during that year as she was a cosplayer i briefly met for being in the local anime con scene.
i once tried to talk to her to maybe make friends with her, but she was very dismissive of me, and at a later date she just left me a message on our desk telling me to stop drawing stupid things and erased most of it, at which point i just felt really bad and never bothered or saw her again.
#like sure i get it you don't want some rando messing up your desk. but also these desks were all fucked up and filled with shit anyway#random signatures gross insults cheating text etc.#so i wouldn't have thought that me drawing some elven dude in erasable pencil amongst that would have meant much#but also that really doesn't matter? i'm just thinking about how that's like my history with friendships in retrospect#where i make a weak attempt at communicating with someone and immediately feel like i did something wrong and should leave#when honestly maybe she just wasn't very cool to begin with. or wasn't interested in making friends. whatever really.#and she doesn't have to have been. but it's also not something i should have been hard on myself for.#like i'm just reminiscing about how i have a really twisted perspective of what is 'allowed' in any given social context#because of experiences like those since i was a kid (plus issues with my parents)#and i always feel like i'm overstepping and should just leave as a result.#and now that i'm in my late 20s is when the reality of this not being normal or healthy is becoming really apparent#but i don't know if that damage can be undone at this point sooo. lmao.#it is a work in progress. or so i like to think.
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#vent post#tw vent#i want to scream. to destroy something. to be in rage and feel anger. and somehow be strong#but no. all i can do is breakdown and cry. feeling only sadness and sorrow. being weak#just when i tought i could have a new start in were all was going to be fine. it ended worse than before#is like being lifted from a puddle just to be kicked down to the mud#they took 10k from me. how will i pay the rent? i am jobless. Delivery work is not close enough#if the school problem is fixed i might not be able to go. montly fee from them too#“you look thinner. are you okay?” my whole family said. uncles. aunts. cousins. my grandma. my parents. even my brother said the same#somehow i expected to be praised. for a long time they kept asking me to lose weight and makinh fun of my belly. why is bad now?#is because i do not eat? because i do not have enough food? but this is what they wanted! i am looking better right? thinner#i am not suffering hunger. i just do not feel the need anymore. is not that better? My ED is fixed. i am no longer a compulsive eater#is this not the way to love myself again? to feel better with my body? to feel like i can desired after all?#with that i can overcome my flaws. fixing the bad things about myself. be deserving of intimate and deep love#someone that will stay because i am very good. kind. compasive. always smiling. having confidence. being open minded#did not all of that comes by loving myself? is not all better this way? why are they saying the opposite now?#yet i know is not okay. that i need to eat more. i just can not. there is not enough food nor the energy to cook everyday#it does not matter anyway. i will probably need to come back with my parents (at least i can do that).#but how i am going to see them in the face and not feel like a failure. like a parasite once again. be more burden than i already am#all i do is making mistakes with how i am. i could not keep friendship because i still loved them. i still wanted for them to be only mine#and i know is bad. i know is not correct. i know i am not what they want not what they need. that i hurt them more than helping#and yet. i miss they company. they support. they hugs and cares. they smiles and laughs. I messed up everything. perhaps is better like this#they will not need to worry about me anymore and they will not see me struggle with my mistakes and life situations#they could be free from all this mess and fixing they own without me making it worse#i will be fine. somehow. only time will tell how i am going to end#i just want to be hugged in this uglyness and stop making mistakes so the pain can end
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Baby Perez Is Mine : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen
summary: after getting to know your brother’s team mate max, you soon find that it’s more than just a friendship that’s struck between the two of you
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liked by schecoperez, lilymhe and 179,583 others
ynperez: always a joy to pay a visit to red bull and make sure everyone knows that mexicans obviously do it best ❤️💙
27,058 comments
username1: I just love how supportive yn is of sergio and his whole career!
schecoperez: thanks for always making sure there’s at least one sergio fan in the crowd 😘
ynperez: @/schecoperez always got your back brother 🫶🏻
username2: it’s nice to see someone in a red bull hat with two 1s on it for a change
maxverstappen1: tell that to the driver’s standings loser 😂
ynperez: @/maxverstappen1 we don’t accept any perez slander in this house thank you!!
username3: it’s the way she just pops up at all these random races for me 😂
carlossainz55: want me to show you the spanish way? 🇪🇸
ynperez: @/carlossainz55 can assure you no one is as smooth as a perez 😏
username4: thank you yn for always being sergio’s number one fan 🥺
username5: ngl max gives me annoying middle sibling vibes when he’s with these two 😂
lilymhe: sorry you were at the race and didn’t think to come and see me 😤
ynperez: @/lilymhe sorryyyyy it was just too busy, I promise next time I’m yours 🥺
username6: the way that most of the drivers and wags love yn more than anyone else speaks volumes 🔊
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liked by lancestroll, redbullracing and 582,048 others
schecoperez: such a proud weekend to be racing at home with so much support. thank you to everyone in mexico for all the love 🇲🇽🏎️
37,048 comments
maxverstappen1: super race and lots of points, let’s push on to the end of the season 💪🏻
username7: no one can convince me that these two aren’t secretly the cutest pairing on the grid
ynperez: most of that love was from me btw, loudest in the grandstand by far 🥲
schecoperez: @/ynperez have I mentioned your the best baby sister ever 🤔
username8: I hope you heard us nice and loud whilst you were driving around today sergio 🫶🏻
username9: thank you for always bringing the party to the podium ❤️
estebanocon: you should race at home more often if you perform like that
username10: such an incredible weekend, we’re all so proud of you sergio!!
landonorris: idk where that hat came from but I need one asap 😂
schecoperez: @/landonorris we don’t just give these out to any random guy you know
username11: I’m not ready for this weekend to be over already…
danielricciardo: huge race buddy, congrats on some super points 💪🏻
username12: not me not wondering when we’ll next get to see yn and sergio together again 💔
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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 2,859,261 others
maxverstappen1: no better way to spend a week off than exploring the world with my favourite person 🥺 (who also bribes me with beer to take selfies so it’s worth it 😭🍺)
274,261 comments
charles_leclerc: fancy telling us who the lucky girl is that’s taken the max verstappen off the market!?!?
username13: I was not prepared for max to drop this bomb on us today
alex_albon: look at you being all mysterious and secretive on instagram 😂
redbullracing: all we needed to do was buy a beer to stop you giving admin a breakdown with your shocking social posts…
maxverstappen1: @/redbullracing admin can comment when you’ve got more followers than me ☺️
username14: whoever this girl is, she must make max incredibly weak for him to agree to take a selfie 😂
landonorris: congrats on being able to finally take a half decent photo 👏🏻
username15: boyfriend era max can be welcomed with open arms!!
schecoperez: we work together every week and fail to mention you’ve got a girlfriend 🙄
maxverstappen1: @/schecoperez you have to promise not to kill me if I share…
schecoperez: @/maxverstappen1 you can’t tell me something like that and not elaborate!!
danielricciardo: if I knew beer was all it took I’d have got you social media trained years ago 🤦🏻♂️
username16: who is this favourite person and how can I take their place???
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liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 193,747 others
ynperez: turns out the dutch just as good as the mexicans 🥺🏎️
38,372 comments
username17: wtf this is the plot twist that I did not see coming 😱
schecoperez: still getting over this absolute betrayal btw 😭
ynperez: @/schecoperez I promise you’re still secretly my number one 🫶🏻
landonorris: wasn’t happy with f1 driver in your life so decided to pull another too ☺️
username18: and now I remember why yn is so popular with all the other drivers 😂
danielricciardo: last time I checked max was mine and now you come along and stolen him 😭
carmenmmundt: why do i feel like I’ve blinked and missed a whole load of chapters here???
ynperez: @/carmenmmundt answer your damn phone and I’ll fill you in!!
username19: why do I feel like I’ve missed out on so many chapters in the story here
alex_albon: I hope you’re only making reference to their driving in that caption 🤔
ynperez: @/alex_albon @/lilymhe come get your man and his head out the gutter please!!
username20: rip sergio 😭 he must be a ruined man right now
username21: how did none of us actually see this coming with how close they are??
flavy.barla: emergency date night for all the details is pending…
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liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri and 327,509 others
ynperez: for all the red bull girlies terrified I had ruined the team forever, here’s the three of us are playing a game of padel to remind you that red bull are gonna win the championship again this year! ❤️💙
52,927 comments
username22: if there’s one person who always believes in red bull it’s yn 🤩
maxverstappen1: you nearly ruined the relationship by picking to play with sergio instead of me 😭
ynperez: @/maxverstappen1 you were better than the two of us combined anyway 😂
username23: why do I feel like yn was more there to be cheerleader than actually player??
landonorris: wondering where my invite to this game was??
danielricciardo: @/landonorris funnily enough the text didn’t arrive on my phone either
oscarpiastri: @/danielricciardo @/landonorris I thought it was just me who’d been forgotten 💔
ynperez: @/oscarpiastri that’s because you’re so bad you make me look good at padel 😂
username24: I also want to be part of these padel games fyi 🙌🏻
schecoperez: that’s what we call a fake smile trying to not be sick watching the two of you together 🤮
ynperez: @/schecoperez you love us both really 💙
lancestroll: when they said red bull was a happy family, I didn’t realise quite how close that family was 😂
username25: these photos summarise the team perfectly, sergio just happy to be here whilst max is super focused and competitive!
georgerussell63: next time we’ll have to play a game together
carmenmmundt: @/georgerussell63 @/ynperez we can sit and gossip whilst the boys play more like 😂
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liked by schecoperez, charles_leclerc and 3,842,162 others
maxverstappen1: so proud to win another world title and do it with my best friend right by my side. thank you for all the incredible support this year, red bull fans really are the best ❤️🏆💙
482,172 comments
ynperez: couldn’t be happier to be there by your side today, congratulations on an incredible season darling 💞
maxverstappen1: @/ynperez you’re the best prize to come out of this season still 💞
username26: were all so proud of you max, yet another incredible season 🎉
landonorris: next year I’m coming for your ass just so you know 😉
username27: this thread of photos must have sergio raging in his driver’s room somewhere
schecoperez: don’t remember my sister being the one to race alongside you all season 🤷🏻♂️
username28: never in doubt, we all always knew you’d do it max!!
danielricciardo: I always knew you’d do it all those years ago…and look where we are now!
username29: best friend 🥺 if you listen closely you can hear sergio’s heart breaking…
charles_leclerc: it’s been an honour as always to race alongside you this season! 👏🏻
username30: it can’t be denied that these two are just the cutest!
username31: who knew a dutch and a mexican could be so well suited 🤩
redbullracing: our champion and our driver, we couldn’t be happier to have you with us max ❤️💙
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liked by ynperez, schecoperez and 3,117,058 others
maxverstappen1: turns out I forgot to mention the other perez in my life, so shout out to sergio for being the best teammate ever and introducing me to his smoking hot sister 🔥
317,028 comments
schecoperez: this was almost a cute caption until I read that last sentence…and now I want to knock you out 🥊
maxverstappen1: @/schecoperez just remember the bit where I told you you were the best teammate ever 😘
username32: how have I only just noticed how chaotic this duo is 😂
username33: admin hurry up and bring us more content from these two asap!
username34: max better start running whilst sergio hunts down his ass
username35: I wonder if yn realises what she’s started with these two now 🤔
username36: how has it taken me this long to realise how good of a team these two are 😂
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liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and 328,018 others
ynperez: best date ever to watch my best friend get married 🥂 so happy to spend your special day with you sergio and carolina 💞
38,472 comments
username37: you two look incredible…congratulations sergio and carolina 💞
schecoperez: hopefully it’ll be you guys next and we’ll be welcoming max into the family 🥺
maxverstappen1: @/schecoperez is this you saying you want to be brothers in law??? 🥹
schecoperez: @/maxverstappen1: let’s not get too ahead of ourselves now…
landonorris: @/schecoperez I agree, hurry up and put a ring on it verstappen 😂
username38: I can’t get over how adorable the two of you are together 😭
landonorris: who knew you two scrubbed up so well!?
ynperez: @/landonorris we just hide it well 😇
username39: is this extended invite sergio finally accepting of max!?
estebanocon: I’ve never heard a sister of the groom speech before, but you really set quite the high standard 😂
username40: can’t wait for these three to keep annoying each other forever 😂
danielricciardo: damn yn idk what you’ve done to max but he’s never looked hotter 🔥
ynperez: @/danielricciardo careful otherwise people might think it’s you two who are dating…
username41: this feels like a competition to pick which is the cuter couple…
oscarpiastri: looks like you guys all had the most magical day 🥂
username42: you know I secretly think sergio is thrilled that they’re together, he just hides it well 😂
maxverstappen1: feeling pretty lucky to have the most beautiful date in the world, my stunning girl 💞
ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 it’s easy to look good with you by my side 🥺
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗
#f1#f1 imagine#formula 1#max verstappen#max verstappen imagine#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x you#formula one#f1 reaction#formula one imagine#max verstappen smau#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#formula x reader#formula 1 social media#formula one x reader#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 smau#formula one smau#f1 fluff#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 smau#f1 x you
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MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: sexual content | booty calling spider-man :)
PETER PARKER doesn't understand why he keeps letting you do this to him. Over and over again you tell him friendship is all you want, yet at the late hours of the night— since you know he's already up— you ask if he can afford a break. Like an idiot, he swings by. Doesn't even get the chance to take off the suit before you're shoving him down into a seat, straddling him to rub yourself all over his bulge.
"Hey, easy," he tells you, "you're gonna leave a wet spot." To protest you, his gloved hands cup the plush flesh of your backside, lifting you over him. That spider-strength has you weak in the knees, eagerly latching onto his neck over the cloth. A gasp emits from him as he maneuvers his erection from the confines of his suit and you mouth at his pulse point.
"Want- you, Spider. Need you." At the invoke of that nickname, he lulls his head back and you bite onto him in your enthusiasm. A delicious and low groan pours from his throat, from both the sensation and anticipation of being inside you again. Obediently, he lowers you, nudging your entrance with the head of his cock until he feels a give. You suck in a breath to feel that stretch, no one stretches you like Peter does.
"Fuck," he drags out the word, slowly reintroducing you to his every inch. Impatiently, you push down, as if you could ever hope to overpower him. The man has lifted buses. "Wait a second, baby, wait," His fingers dig into your skin, warning you that you're going too quick for your sake.
"I can't wait any longer, you took so long getting here," you whine, burying your nose into the crook of his shoulder. You can smell his sweat through it, the musk of recent exercise, prowling the streets of Manhattan looking for trouble. "Just fuck me already?"
Pete can't believe this is working on him. Yet again bowing to your whims because he's that desperate for your attention, that desperate for your touch. He can't lie, your impetuous begging for him and his dick strokes more than his ego, length twitching while half-seated inside you. "You want it that bad?" his tone betrays his hope.
"Yes! Yes, please, Pete," With your plea, your grip on him inflects with your syllables, rutting your body against him for any kind of friction, while his halt remains infallible. No matter how you wiggle, he won't let you sink further. At first it was to keep you from hurting yourself, now it's because he likes hearing your bargain for him. Those addicting lips glide up to his ear, and he can feel your breath on the shell of it through his mask. "Need my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."
"You're gonna pull that card? Seriously?" his indignant question is adversely punctuated with a buck up into you and you cry out. It got you fucking wet. It spurs him on, working himself up to a steady pace as he fucks you. He can hear the sounds of the city through the open window, if sirens flew by right now he's not sure he'd have the strength to leave you.
Putty in his hands, your body acts as fluid as he uses it, and you're so grateful you reached out to him. Fucking a superhero is thrilling enough, but fucking Spider-Man has a perk you can't pass up. That spider bite may have gifted an extra couple inches to his cock, but you're more interested in his power to fuck you like a sex toy. Along for the ride, you bounce on him because he's moving you. Like you're nothing. Out of instinct, your lips clumsily find his on the cloth as you brush noses. Your tongue peeks out, the felt drying the tip and his lips shift under your touch.
Breathless and amused, he asks, "Are you trying to french me through the mask again?"
#3k#indy: drabbles#ch: peter#peter parker drabble#peter parker smut#spider-man smut#peter parker x reader smut#spider-man x reader smut#peter parker x reader#spider-man x reader#insomniac!spider-man#spiderman smut#spiderman x reader#spiderman x reader smut#insomniac!spider-man smut#peter parker x you#spider-man x you#peter parker x you smut#spider-man x you smut#reader insert#no y/n#marvel's spider-man smut#spider-man ps4 smut#spider-man ps4 x reader#marvel spider-man smut#marvel spider-man x reader
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Astrology observations - Part 4 (use whole signs)
🌟 Moon in 4th is one of my favourite placements. These people usually have a good career, like an emotionally fulfilling one. They won't stay in a job that doesn't make them happy. Their mom can help them choose a career or give them interview tips.
🏮Mars in 2nd house people are so lucky when it comes to earning money, it's like, they get a new money making opportunity just when they're on their last penny. They're also not afraid to get their hands dirty and are willing to do almost anything, very hard working people. They're also the ones managing all the money in their family.
🌟 Mercury in 8th house people are the ones with a "sexy brain" like the WAY their mind works, are so good at analysing arguments and coming up with the best possible solution. Good debating skills. These people have great manifestation skills, I have a list of 100 + incidents, it's honestly a little scary. Can also develop clairvoyant abilities if they work on it.
🏮I haven't met a single non religious, Sun in 9th house person in my life. Even if they're not that religious in their younger years, they will be when they get older. Always willing to help others even when they themselves are suffering, my mom has this, and.....it pisses me off so bad. The "put your own oxygen mask on first" advice is for you all. Stop helping people, be selfish, it's not your duty to make everyone else's life better. My mom doesn't listen, but maybe you all will.
🌟 Venus in 11th house is a placement that's really good from a business perspective. They're great at negotiations so that's helpful. They won't like doing a regular 9 to 5 job as it will suppress their freedom and creativity. They will open their own business pretty early on in life, in like late 20's or early 30's. Great architects and interior designers. I remember when I made the architecture and astrology post, a lot of people had this.
🏮I haven't seen anyone talk about this, but moon in 6th house people can be really good leaders, they're very helpful and kind and their ability to understand emotions makes them extremely likable. They have more of a people oriented leadership style. They focus on building strong relationship with their group members or employees. Also, why are you all always sick 😭? Prone to anxiety and stress and this leads to body pain and digestive issues. Please put your health first.
🌟 It's really funny how ALL my friends, every single one, has Venus in 1st. I would say that rather than us being pretty, we're just very likable. Even if they're introvert or shy, they have a communication style that makes other people want to talk to them. It's just an aura thing, tbh. Also, they're huge people pleasers and will do their best not to offend anyone, like even if a person is being annoying, they won't say anything. (Mars in 1st can change this)
🏮 Jupiter in 2nd house is not good for marriage but great for career and friendships. I know people with this who are still in contact with their pre school friends. Their friends will help them in their career as well. They're intelligent but they think they're not, and this makes them lose a lot of opportunities. Need to have a little bit of courage to succeed in life.
🌟 Sun in 12th house people probably had a painful childhood (more so than others), if mercury is with sun in 12th, then they write poems to express this pain. They're good writers, and can be lyricists, authors, script/play writers, etc. these people are physically weak. Might also not know who they are, as in, not aware of their own personality traits.
🏮Saturn in 12th house people lack confidence when they're young, but become more confident as they get older and learn to get out of their comfort zone. These people have better luck outside of their homeland. This is a good placement if you want to become a psychologist as it gives you the ability to properly analyse those with mental disorders. They also look aloof most of the time. This is another placement that is good in terms of writing skills, many famous authors have this (those who write sad stuff)
© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024
#moon in 4th house#mars in 2nd house#mercury in 8th house#sun in 9th house#venus in 11th house#moon in 6th house#venus in 1st house#jupiter in 2nd house#sun in 12th house#saturn in 12th house#astrology observations#astrology#astroblr#astrology community#astrology content#astro notes
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More than sex.
Astarion x gn! Tav
"You’re telling me, that you.. would pass on a night of… meaningless, fantastic, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mind blowing sex… for love?”
“Yes.”
Rating: Mature (for the subject but no actual sex or smut in any way shape or form.) Tags: Demisexuality, demisexual Tav, Demisexual Reader, No Smut, gn! Reader, Slight spoilers, Act One spoilers, Developing Relationship, Developing Friendships, Drabble, short and sweet, Confessions
Ao3 or keep reading below:
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“I’m just looking for a little more excitement. A little more fun.”
Tav considered these words, anytime they saw Astarion having ‘fun’ was on the battlefield. Either stabbing his way through anything that stood before him, or sneaking up behind them and slitting their throat before they could even scream. “And what’s your idea of ‘a little fun?’”
Astarion smiled, taking a sip of his cheap wine before speaking, “By the hells. Sex, my dear. A night of passion.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed. So, how about—“
“Shadowheart is free.” Tav looked over their shoulder to where she stood by her own tent where she fiddled with a bottle of wine attempting to open it with slow hands.
“Wait, what—“ Astarion shifted to look past Tav to where she stood, the woman catching his gaze and glaring in return.
“And she’s really pretty too,” Tav offered.
“I’m not interested in hearing her praise her goddess tonight.”
“Well, there’s also Lae’zel—“
Astarion shook his head. “I think she would rather behead me before she would ever bed me.”
“Halsin is available too—“ The Druid elf was handsome, and such a powerful one at that but before Tav could even finish, Astarion cut them off.
“Tempting, but not the one I’m interested in.”
“Gale—“
“No.”
Tav hummed, putting their hands on their hips as they scanned the rest of the camp. There were many others, but most were already too drunk to even remember their own names. “I can’t think of anyone else.”
“There’s always you, darling.”
“Me?” Tav snorted a laugh. Surely he must have been joking. Of all the people that Astarion could have… Tav would personally put themselves at the bottom of the list.
“Yes, you. It’s not everyday someone like yourself would be propositioned by someone like me, and this may be your last opportunity—“
“No thank you.”
“No?! What do you mean ‘no’?!” Astarion was shocked, his hands jumping to his chest as if Tav had stabbed him directly in the heart.
Tav grimaced, the way that Astarion’s face dropped, the hurt that filled his eyes so quickly… “Look, I’m not… rejecting you—“
“Sure sounds like rejection to me—“
They shook their head. “I need to be in love first… before I can…” Tav lifted their hands, gesturing towards Astarion in a weak display of trying to find the words and failing. “Don’t get me wrong… you’re- you are breathtaking, Astarion. The most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on—“
“Yes, I know. But– you’re telling me, that you.. would pass on a night of… meaningless, fantastic, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mind blowing sex… for love?”
“Yes.”
Astarion paused, taken aback. “Well, that’s actually quite admirable… But why?”
“For me, I want it to mean something. Sex is an easily obtainable thing, but love… love you have to work for, to fight for, to earn and to cherish. Sex is great and all but… making love to the person who means the most to you in the world. That’s what I want. That’s what I need.”
Astarion tapped his finger against his lips, thinking to himself before speaking again. “Hm. Sex and love, I never took you for such a sap,” he said with a light laugh. “Well, how do you feel about being friends then, hm? The kind of friends that protect one another, that is.”
Tav chuckled. “I think it’s too late for that.”
“Too late?! So what, now we can’t even be friends?!” Astarion threw his hands up, frustrated. “All I did was hit on you and now—“
“No, no,” Tav cut him off, reaching for Astarion’s hands and holding them gently. “What I mean… We can be friends but… I have developed some feelings for you. If you want to be friends, that’s fine. That’s great, actually. I just… well, I need to know if I should ignore those feelings—“
Astatrion pulled his hands way, choosing to gesture towards Tav as he spoke. “So, let me get this straight. You have ‘some’ feelings for me?”
“Yes,” Tav replied with a nod.
“But you don’t want to fuck me, tonight? Right now?”
“Right.” They nodded again.
“How very interesting… and even.. a little refreshing,” Astarion smiled, a smile that almost seemed shy… With his head turning away from Tav—and Tav swore they saw the smallest blush growing on his cheeks.
“Refreshing?” Tav questioned, learning towards Astarion in an attempt to see that adorable blush—
Astarion waved them off, the blush already gone and Astarion back to his usual self. “Never mind that, Tav. I guess we can see where this goes then?” He reached out, taking Tav’s hand into his own and giving it a light squeeze. “Whatever this is, anyway.”
Tav smiled. “I’d like that.”
#baldur's gate astarion#astarion bg3#baldurs gate 3 astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion baldurs gate#astarion x tav#astarion x you#astarion x mc#astarion x reader#tav x astarion#astarion fan fic#astarion fanfiction#astarion fanfic#astarion x gn tav#astarion x gn! reader#astarion x gn reader#demisexual#demisexual tav#demisexual reader#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate#bg3#astarion#baldurs gate 3 spoilers#baldur’s gate 3 spoilers#spoilers#no smut#baldurs gate fanficiton#velvet writing
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hi! could i get a scotch with lime in a copper mug? 💞✨
lando norris x mclarenrookie!reader
just shut up and come here
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With Max’s car starting to falter, Lando knew he had a real shot at competing for the WDC. As the season progressed, he’d become the favorite, and it finally felt like his time. There was just one problem: you.
In your rookie year in F1, you were holding third place, just 40 points behind Lando. Exceeding all the team's expectations, you’d proven to be a real competitor — and Lando wasn’t pleased. To him, the strategy should have been obvious: you were supposed to help him beat Max. But you saw it differently. After all, you were only 80 points behind the leader, and Zak and Andrea had decided to let things play out between the two of you, which only heightened the tension.
What started as a friendship had quickly soured after you overtook Lando to win in Hungary. Furious, he stormed into your driver’s room after the podium celebration, his eyes blazing.
“What the hell was that?” he snapped, voice sharp.
You didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze. “A clean overtake,” you replied coolly.
“You’re screwing up my chances at the championship!” he seethed, his tone bitter.
"You do realize that I also have a shot at it?" You questioned. "Not my fault that I'm faster than you either."
At that, he got in your face, practically radiating anger. “Just stay out of my way,” he bit out before stalking out of the room.
It was the first of many heated clashes, and even Zak was starting to worry about the tension between his drivers. Things only escalated after your win in Baku, when Lando stood stony-faced on the podium, arms crossed, barely acknowledging the celebration. The media had a field day, and McLaren’s PR department wasn’t happy.
Seeing his growing frustration, your initial resentment slowly turned to concern. His behavior was spiraling, and it seemed no one was willing to address it — except you.
“What’s going on with you?” you demanded one day after a rough qualifying session, pushing open his door to find him pacing.
“What are you talking about?” he snapped, but you didn’t back down.
“You’re being a brat to everyone! It was fine when you were just an asshole to me, but this is getting out of hand.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied venomously.
“If you need someone to talk to, you know McLaren has plenty of resources,” you said softly, trying a different approach.
“I don’t need your help so just fuck off,” he said and you backed off.
That didn’t stop you from giving your own therapist his email, instructing her to email him nonstop until he set up a session. Something must have worked because in the break before Austin, Lando did some press about his struggles with mental health and you heard that he’d bought gifts for the whole garage team as an apology for his behavior.
You two still didn’t really talk but he gave you a head nod now as a hello and there wasn’t much tension between you in front of the media anymore.
Then, on the Thursday before the Austin GP, during your post-free-practice interviews, a reporter brought up Lando.
“Y/N, any thoughts on Helmut’s recent comments?” they asked.
You raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, I don’t keep track of what everyone’s saying.”
“He claimed that Lando has ‘mental weaknesses’ preventing him from being a real championship contender.”
You stiffened, feeling anger bubble up. “Yeah, interesting,” you started, your PR manager nodding, likely expecting you to stay professional. Too bad for them. “Honestly, he can go fuck off.”
The press buzzed with shock, and your PR manager hurried over, but you went on.
“Red Bull’s looking for anything to distract from their own mess. It’s 2024, and criticizing a driver for being open about mental health is pathetic. We’d all be a little better off if they put him in a nursing home Lando’s one of the most talented drivers out there, so Helmut can shove it. Thanks.”
You walked off, ignoring your PR manager’s frantic scolding.
Later, after the team debrief, you headed to your room, ready to call it a day. But outside your door, you saw Lando waiting, his expression softer than usual.
“Are you okay—?” you began, but he cut you off, stepping forward.
“Just shut up and come here,” he murmured, pulling you into a hug. You rubbed his back as he buried his head against your shoulder, his voice muffled. “I owe you so much. And after what you said today… even more.”
“This stuff is hard, Lando. Sometimes it feels like the whole world’s on our shoulders.” You pulled back to meet his gaze. “I like it better when you’ve got the energy to actually fight me.”
He laughed softly, then hugged you tighter. “Can we… start over? As friends?” he asked, his voice tentative.
You smiled. “Of course — but only after I win the championship.”
He groaned, but his eyes sparkled with humor. “In your dreams, rookie.”
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Witches and Twinks
MONDAY
The small London restaurant’s dim light flickered against the wine glasses, casting soft Merlot shadows onto George and Adam’s lips, noses, the entirety of their smug, helpless faces. This should have been the perfect pairing. They were both intellects, with high senses of self and a love for information (ie. control), and though they’d talked for nearly an hour at this point, the conversation felt more like a fencing match than the start of a beautiful new friendship—each word a parry, each retort a thrust. Adam, dressed in his sweater and khakis, leaned back in his chair with a faint smile, his tone sharp but measured for every measure George tried to fling upon him.
“As much as people romanticize magic or ‘karma,’ it’s all just bullish storytelling,” Adam said, swirling the last of his drink. “Yes, Shakespeare and Marlowe write about it, but even they understood that human intellect, not divine intervention, drives our fate. Julius Caesar—perfect example. ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.’ The real power lies in reason and intellect.”
George, dressed more casually in his loose-fitting green shirt, met Adam’s judgey gaze with a bewitchingly bemused smile. “Shakespeare also believed in the supernatural,” he countered. “The witches in Macbeth didn’t rely on logic to mess with the characters. Magic, fate, karma—call it what you may, but it holds an inexplicable force over more than just imagination. You’d be surprised how much control you don’t have.”
Adam chuckled, leaning forward slightly, his confidence more than bordering on just arrogance. “Macbeth? The witches merely represent internal fears and ambition every man or woman has in themselves. You can interpret them as mystical, inexplicable forces if you must, but at the end of the day, it’s Lady Macbeth’s persuasion and greed that destroy her husband. Shakespeare knew that intellect was the ultimate weapon. Magic? That’s just an excuse for weak minds like yourself who can’t handle the complexity of the human condition.”
George’s smile twitched as if he found the power not to turn Adam into the jackass he’d been acting like right then and there. “You academics, always trying to boil everything down to logic. I think you’re missing the point of the supernatural entirely. It’s not always about intellect. There are forces beyond understanding, beyond your understanding,—forces that aren’t impressed by your degrees or how many times you’ve read Troilus and Cressida.”
“An underrated work, if I say so myself.” Adam’s smirk deepened. “And yes, the mysterious ‘forces beyond understanding.’ Tell me, how do they rank next to a Ph.D. in Shakespeare? I’d be curious to know.”
George tilted his head and took a swig of his drink, his gaze softening in a way that made Adam’s need to seek scholarly validation seem hollow. “You think Shakespeare would’ve agreed with you?”
“I know he would’ve,” Adam replied, superiority painting his tone. “The entire premise of his greatest works is that humanity’s biggest downfall is ignorance, not the supernatural. He’d side with intellect.”
“Or maybe he’d side with me.” George leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “You don’t think Shakespeare had a little magic in him? Maybe even enough to change a man forever?”
Adam’s smile faltered slightly, a small crack in his polished confidence. “What are you getting at?”
George’s just giggled, something dark and knowing flashing behind them. “I’m saying that not everything in this world is logical, Adam. You’re sitting here, lecturing me about Shakespeare, as if your intellect puts you above magic or fate. But I could change your entire world with just a flick of my hand, and all that book knowledge would evaporate into thin air.”
Adam’s gulped, unsure whether to get up and run or call the waiter. “Magic doesn’t exist,” he scoffed. “This isn’t some fantasy. It’s reality. You want to impress me? Show me something real.”
Without hesitation, George raised his hand, a scarred palm outstretched, and without breaking eye contact, he waved it through the suddenly thickened air with an inexplicable grace. The motion was so sudden, almost imperceptible, but Adam’s reaction was immediate. His breath hitched, his confident posture writhing and wilting as his widened eyes fluttered in confusion. The polished veneer of intellectual superiority melted away as something unfamiliar and overpowering gripped him.
Suddenly, Adam found himself folded over the table, unable to look away from George. The irritation he’d felt moments before evaporated, replaced by a deep, floundering passion—something that made his heart race and his chest tighten. His thoughts scrambled, no longer sharp and clear but clouded, fogged by an overwhelming sense of need.
“I…” Adam stammered, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t understand… what were we—?”
George shushed him, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “You’re not supposed to understand, love. That’s the point.”
Adam’s breath grew shallow, his pulse quickening as his gaze locked onto George, unable to break away. His mind, usually so sharp and critical, was a jumbled mess of scrambled eggs. Everything he knew, everything he prided himself on, suddenly felt distant, irrelevant. All that mattered now was George—his voice, his presence, his timeless beauty. George was Adam’s everything now.
“You’re…” Adam’s words trailed off as his hand reached across the table, trembling. “You’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met.” He swallowed his own tongue, choking on his own breath. “Will you marry me?”
George’s smile widened, a quiet, knowing victory in his eyes. He leaned back, looking under the table, watching as Adam’s brain couldn’t catch up to his…heart.
“And just like that,” George whispered, “all your intellect can’t stop what you feel now, can it?”
Adam blinked, his face flushed with a mix of confusion and something else, something deeper. “No… I… I can’t stop it.” He swallowed hard, his voice small, vulnerable. “I don’t want to.”
George’s eyes glittered with satisfaction. “Good,” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. “Now, why don’t we talk about something that really matters back at your place?”
Every part of his intellectual, collected self knew better than to let this menace into his home, but all Adam could do was nod at his newfound love’s commands. And how bad could it be? All’s well that ends well, right?
Adam fumbled with the keys to his flat, his hands trembling with an erotic urgency he’d never known before. A man of his knowledge and tact would never sleep with a man so quickly, but alas, his once methodical mind, the same one that could cite King Lear on a whim, now reeled only with thoughts of George on his bed—George's lustful eyes, George’s sweet cock, George's very presence seemed to fill every emotional crevice of his being. His usual restraint, his prudent superiority, was gone, replaced by a consuming need to be filled by this cunning, enchanting strange.
They stumbled inside, the door locking shut behind them. “I’ve never…” Adam’s voice cracked, and he shook his head, words failing him. “I don’t know why, but I want you, I need you. Now.”
George’s lips curled into a soft smile, almost pitying. “Not yet, love. You’re tired.”
“No, I—” Adam’s horny existence began to protest, but before he could finish, George raised his hand and with a single flick of the wrist, Adam’s body crashed into a wave of heavy and irresistible drowsiness. His knees buckled slightly, and he stumbled backward onto his bed, the fatigue wrapping itself around him like a thick, suffocating blanket. His eyelids fluttered as the last bit of resistance left him, and in moments, he was fast asleep, still in the preppy clothes that once defined him.
George stepped forward, his eyes brooding as he stood over Adam's sleeping form. His fingers trailed lightly over Adam’s temple, tracing the outline of his brow. “You’ll thank me for this one day,” George murmured, though he knew Adam couldn’t hear.
With that, George’s expression shifted from amusement to something far more dangerous. He moved to the center of the room, kneeling over, and began reciting words in Old English, his voice low and rhythmic, like a conjurer summoning something deep and ancient.
“This man doth dress in shorts of scanty seam,
But two inches, nay more, could his cloth bear.
All trousers, all pants, dare try to redeem,
Will twist and turn, yet still they'll shorten there.”
As the words slipped out from George’s lips, the change began. Adam’s legs, still clad in his conservative khakis, twitched. The fabric shimmered like glitter, rippling unnaturally, as though it had come alive beneath him. Slowly, the pant legs began to pull and pull, retracting themselves upward inch by inch. The sturdy material warped and shrank, tightening suddenly as it rose. In moments, the khakis had transformed entirely into a pair of short, nay, outrageously short gym shorts—barely two inches of inseam, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.
The fabric clung to Adam’s shivering thighs, exposing pale skin that had seemingly never seen the light of day. His knees, his nonexistent calves, everything that had been carefully covered up was now on display, with the hem of the shorts barely reaching the tops of his legs. He lay there, still sleeping, completely oblivious to the transformation.
George’s eyes gleamed as he watched his imagination solidify into reality, their bright, synthetic fabric snug against Adam’s skin. “Much better,” he whispered, stepping closer. But alas, he wasn’t done just yet.
“In tanks of muscled shape, his chest laid bare,
Neckline to navel, each nipple shall show.
Armholes so deep, their movement none can spare,
In every stride, his shirt reveals more woe.”
Another shift rippled through Adam’s sleeping body, this time around his torso. The sweater he’d been wearing—the very picture of propriety—began to distort itself, the fibers unraveling at his collar. The neckline dipped lower, and lower, and lower still, until it stopped just above his flat belly button. The sleeves, too, warped, pulling up and away from his twig-like arms until they were nothing but gaping holes that left his ribcage completely exposed. The fabric thinned as the sleeves disappeared, leaving him in a muscle tank so revealing that his nipples couldn’t help but to peek through with every slight motion.
The soft knit of his sweater had become a thin, athletic material, stretched across his chest and shoulders, barely covering anything. His once modest outfit was now reduced to something shamelessly provocative, his entire upper body on display, his pasty white skin brushing against the air with every breath.
George admired his work, his fingers drumming lightly against his thigh as he took in Adam’s new look. “Perfect,” he murmured. And yet, there was still more to be done.
“In high shoe laced, his socks pulled crisp and white,
A chain of gold doth glisten 'round his neck,
Beneath it all, a jock to fit him tight,
No other cloth for him shall fate select.”
Once again, for the final time tonight, the changes swept through Adam’s cold, lifeless body, this time starting at his feet. His Sperry boat shoes dissolved, giving way to a pair of bright white Nike hi-tops, their thick laces tied into the most perfect bows for the treadmill. The socks that appeared around his ankles pulled up snugly, reaching mid-calf, their crisp whiteness almost blending to the cream of his skin.
Next, the thinnest, most douchiest gold chain materialized itself around his bony neck, resting just above his exposed collarbone. The delicate glint of the necklace caught the light, its subtle flash at odds with the rest of his now athletic ensemble. Finally, the transformation moved beneath his shorts. His boxers melted away, replaced by a tight-fitting jockstrap that cupped him in place, offering minimal coverage and the most maximum exposure, almost as if he were a twink stripper on the Miami shore instead of the next youngest professor at Yale.
George stepped back, admiring his handiwork. Adam, once a picture of scholarly decorum, now lay before him clad in nothing but slutty gym shorts, a muscle tank that exposed far more than Adam would ever desire, hi-top sneakers, a thin gold chain, and the most illuminating jockstrap. It was absurd, provocative—and exactly as George had imagined.
For the final touch, George recited the couplet, his voice soft but firm:
“Forever cursed, his garments shall remain,
In shorts, in tanks, he'll live his life in vain.”
With those words, the spell was sealed. No matter what Adam touched, no matter how hard he tried, every article of clothing would morph into this same, revealing outfit. George smiled, satisfied, and took a seat in the armchair across from Adam. He watched him for a moment, sleeping so peacefully despite the irreversible change that had just taken place.
But as the night crept on, George allowed himself to sleep too, a smirk still resting on his lips as he lied next to his creation. Tomorrow, when Adam awoke and his spell of infatuation wore off, George knew that’s when the real fun would begin.
TUESDAY
“AHHHH!” Adam woke up, his heart racing as the morning light shone onto his hungover face. His body felt strange, but his mind was far more disturbed. The events of the previous night seemed fragmented, cloudy—George, the strange pull, the overwhelming desire, none of it made sense. He sat up in his sheets, his eyes darting around the room, his chest heaving.
He looked beside himself and dear God, there he was. George was still asleep, draped casually across the sheets, his face peaceful in the way that seemed entirely at odds with the havoc he’d wreaked. Adam’s stomach turned. I slept with him, Adam thought, his mind spinning like a top. He clenched his fists in the sheets, his face flushed with shame. How had he let this happen? His mind, so methodical and proud, had completely failed him and allowed him to degrade himself for some vampiric twink.
Panic gripped him as he stood from the bed, only to stop mid-step when he realized a breeze he’d never felt before. His legs were bare, his thighs on full display. It was then that he noticed his reflection in the mirror across the room. His mouth fell open in shock. Gone were his conservative khakis and sweater. In their place, he wore nothing but a pair of impossibly short gym shorts, a muscle tank that exposed his chest and nipples, white socks pulled up to his calves, and, what on earth, a jockstrap? He looked at himself again and thought he looked like a child dressing up in his musclehead uncle’s clothes.
He quickly shuffled to his dresser, desperate to change out of this ridiculous, humiliating outfit before George woke up. He rifled through his drawers and pulled out a pair of khakis and a button-down shirt, but as soon as his fingers touched them, they shimmered and twisted, morphing into the same slutty gym shorts and revealing muscle tank that now clung to his body. Adam's eyes widened in horror. He threw the clothes aside and reached for another pair, only for the same thing to happen. Every single item he touched—his jeans, his sweaters, even a pair of pajamas—all transformed into the same jock-bro ensemble.
“What the fuck?” Adam muttered under his breath, the frustration building. His heart pounded as he rifled through his now everchanging closet, grabbing hangers and tossing clothes aside in a frantic attempt to find something—anything—that wouldn’t transform. But everything he touched met the same fate, shrinking and twisting into the cursed, douchebag outfit.
Behind him, he heard a soft laugh.
George finally awoke, sitting up in bed, arms crossed, a lazy smirk plastered on his face. “Having trouble love?”
Adam spun around, his face flushed with fury. “What the hell is this?” He gestured to his outfit, his voice rising. “What did you do to me?”
George laughed again, softer this time, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “What’s wrong? What happened to the complexity of the human consciousness or whatever bullshit you were spewing last night?”
“Magic?!” Adam’s voice cracked with a mixture of disbelief and anger. “Is that what you’re blaming this on? You can’t be serious!”
“Oh, but I am, love.” George stood, casually pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. “Oh, come on. Don’t you like your new look? I think it suits you.” He took a step closer, his smirk growing wider. “And honestly, after all that big talk, I would’ve thought you’d handle a little transformation with more grace.”
Adam clenched his fists, his voice shaking with rage. “This isn’t funny, George! Somehow you’ve made me look like some jock-bro idiot. What the hell am I supposed to do like this? Just tell me what you did!”
But George’s expression darkened. “You still don’t get it, do you?” His voice dropped, the playful tone gone. “You can’t just insult me, mock what I believe, and expect no consequences.” He took another step forward, his brooding eyes locking with Adam’s. “You wanted to prove your intellect was above everything—above magic, above fate. But you’ve proven nothing except how small your mind really is.”
“Small?!” Adam barked. “The only thing small here is you, you psychopathic, egotistical—”
But before Adam could finish, George’s pupils flashed with anger. He raised his hand, the air around him seeming to hum with energy. “Careful what you say next,” George warned. “Or you might not like what comes next.”
Adam’s lips parted, the insult on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated. His pride warred with his common sense, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You’re nothing but a dumb fucking slut."
Suddenly, quiet filled the room as the words escaped Adam’s quivering lip, but once he got himself collected, George’s voice rang out in outrage, calm, yet oh-so commanding.
“This man shall bear a curse of feet most foul,
With stench of sweat, his socks shall rot and tear.
His pits shall reek, his skin a pungent scowl,
Athlete’s rot shall mar each inch laid bare.”
Adam barely had time to register what George had said before a horrifying sensation crept up from his feet. He looked down, his newly acquired hi-tops feeling unnaturally damp. His socks, once crisp and white, were now soaked with sweat and dirt, clinging to his wretched skin. He wrinkled his nose at the sudden, overwhelming odor that wafted up from his shoes. It was rancid—like rotting toe cheese mixed with mildew and and an ocean’s worth of sweat. His feet itched uncontrollably, the skin burning as if something was crawling beneath it.
At the same time, his armpits began to burn and sting. He reached up instinctively, only to pull his hand back in disgust. His armpits were slick with a salty wetness, and the stench hit him like a punch to the gut—thick, sour, and overwhelming. It was as if he hadn’t showered in weeks, months even. His face flushed with embarrassment as the realization set in: his body reeked. His feet, his armpits—every part of him was drenched in sweat and stench, a walking cloud of filth.
“What the—?” Adam staggered back, staring at George in disbelief. “What did you—?”
But George wasn’t finished. He raised his hand again, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction.
“This man shall itch where modesty once laid,
His bush shall grow, his groin a scratching hell.
He’ll fight in vain to stop his hands’ parade,
As arse and crotch demand his touch as well.”
And just like that, a sharp itch exploded itself across Adam’s groin, so intense that he doubled over in shock. His fingers flew to his waistband, instinctively trying to scratch the burning sensation beneath his jockstrap. The itch was so unbearable, spreading across his groin and into his backside, radiating like fire near his hole. No matter how hard he tried to resist, his hands were drawn to the sensation, scratching furiously, desperate for relief.
But there was none. The more he scratched, the worse it got. His fingers dug into the fabric of his shorts, and soon, he was practically clawing at himself, unable to stop. His face flushed red with embarrassment. The itch was maddening, and it didn’t care about decorum or propriety. Weak, he was scratching himself in front of George, his hands running over his crotch and ass, completely helpless against the overwhelming need for relief.
“Stop this,” Adam gasped, his voice shaking as he continued to scratch. “Please, stop.”
But George only smirked, his voice calm as he began the next quatrain.
“Each hour, his body shall release its gas,
With burps and farts to shake the very air.
No matter where he goes, no lad or lass
Will dare endure the odors he’ll declare.”
Before Adam could breath in, his stomach rumbled violently. His eyes widened in horror as his body took over, an enormous belch ripping from his throat, so loud it echoed through the tiny studio. A second later, a foul-smelling fart exploded from him like a cloud, the stink so pungent it nearly knocked him back.
“No—” Adam gasped, but his body betrayed him again. Another belch, followed by another fart and another burp, and yet another fart. The stench filled the room, thick and nauseating. His face turned crimson as he stumbled back, his hands flying to his mouth as if he could stop the sounds from escaping, but it was no use. Every few seconds, another belch, another fart, the air around him quickly becoming unbreathable.
George watched, amused, as Adam staggered, his eyes wide with humiliation. He raised his hand one last time, his voice soft and final.
“This man of filth, of shame, of rank decay,
Shall live apart from grace, in filth to stay.”
With that, George turned toward the door, leaving Adam in the haze of his own stench, his body a twisted caricature of everything he once prided himself on. The smell of his own filth lingered in the air, heavy and oppressive, but it was the itching, the relentless belching, and the horrible farts that kept him anchored to the spot. His whole body was a battlefield of sensations he couldn’t control. His intellect, once his greatest weapon, felt utterly useless now.
He staggered toward the bathroom, desperate to scrub away the grime of his new persona. He turned on the shower, hoping the water would wash away the stench and the shame. But as soon as the water hit his body, it did nothing. The sweat, the reek from his armpits and feet, even the itch in his groin—it was all still there, clinging to him like a second skin.
After multiple futile attempts, he stared at his reflection in the fogged mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, his face flushed from scratching and embarrassment. His once carefully maintained hair was now matted with sweat, and his body, encased in the ridiculous bro-ey outfit, made him look more like a lazy frat boy than a Ph.D. candidate.
Adam threw on a hoodie, hoping it might cover up some of the smell, and pulled the hood over his head, trying to obscure himself. He couldn’t just stay home. He had a meeting with his professor that afternoon—he had to go. He had to maintain some semblance of normalcy, even though nothing about this felt normal.
As he left the apartment, he became acutely aware of the looks he was getting from people on the street. Some wrinkled their noses, others shot him a glance before quickly looking away. His footsteps echoed in his ears, punctuated by the sound of another loud fart escaping him, followed by a huge, gut-shaking belch. The smell followed him like a shadow, and the itch in his groin was impossible to ignore. He scratched absentmindedly, wincing as he did, but the relief only lasted a second before the itch came back with renewed intensity.
The closer he got to campus, the more nervous he became. His body wouldn’t stop betraying him—every few steps, another belch, another fart, another desperate scratch of his groin and butt. He could feel the sweat pooling beneath his shirt, the odor rising with it. He pulled his hood tighter over his head, hoping to disappear into himself, but nothing could hide what was happening to him.
By the time he reached his professor’s office, he was a mess of nerves. He stood outside the door, trying to compose himself. You can do this, he thought, even as his body itched and groaned in protest. But the second he stepped inside, the look on his professor’s face told him everything.
“Adam,” Professor Wilson said, his voice hesitant as he looked up from his desk. His nose wrinkled almost immediately, and Adam saw him discreetly glance toward the window as if considering opening it for fresh air. “Are… are you feeling alright?”
Adam swallowed hard. “I—I’m fine,” he lied, but even as the words left his mouth, another loud belch erupted from his throat, followed by the unmistakable sound of another fart. The air around him was thick with the stench, and he could see the professor’s face go pale with disgust.
Professor Wilson stood abruptly. “Perhaps we should reschedule,” he said, clearly trying to hold back his revulsion. “It seems like you’re not… in the best condition today.”
“I can explain—” Adam started, but even as he spoke, his hands betrayed him again, scratching furiously at his groin and rear, the itch unbearable. He tried to stop, tried to keep himself composed, but his body had other ideas. Another belch, another fart, each more embarrassing than the last. The smell in the room was unbearable, and Professor Wilson’s eyes were wide with a mix of pity and horror.
“Adam, I think it’s best if you go home and take care of… whatever this is,” Professor Wilson said, his voice tight with discomfort. “We’ll discuss your dissertation another time.”
Adam’s face burned with shame as he nodded stiffly, his throat too tight to speak. He turned and left the office, another loud fart escaping him as he hurried down the hallway. The students he passed gave him wide-eyed stares, some covering their noses, others whispering and laughing as he stumbled past them. Each new step felt heavier, the weight of the day pressing down on him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the nightmare his life had become.
By the time he could finally make it back to his apartment, he was utterly defeated. His body reeked, the itch in his groin had only gotten worse, and his belly was constantly churning with the pressure of more belches and farts waiting to erupt. He kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. The day had been a disaster—there was no way he could continue like this.
As the evening settled in, Adam lay there, his mind racing even as his body continued to betray him. He had to find George. He had to fix this. There was no other option.
He couldn’t live like this—he couldn’t endure the stares, the laughter, the humiliation. His career, his entire life, was at stake. With each itch, each stench, each belch and fart, he felt his old self slipping further away, and he was terrified of what he would become if this continued.
With a heavy sigh, Adam closed his eyes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would find George and demand that he fix what he’d done. Tomorrow, he would get his life back.
WEDNESDAY
Adam sat desperate against his pillow and his headboard, his phone clutched in his hand, staring down at the screen with a sense of failure. The stench from his armpits, the itching in his groin, the endless belches and farts—everything had become so utterly unbearable. The reflection he caught in the mirror was still that of the cursed gym rat, his outfit vulgar and ridiculous against his scrawny body, the stink so thick it began to cling to the walls of his flat.
He began typing. His fingers trembled slightly as they tapped against the glass, carefully crafting the text to George. His pride screamed against it, but he was out of options. He couldn’t live like this, not anymore.
"Hey George,
I’ve been thinking a lot…and I just wanted to say how sorry I am. I was so out of line, and I didn’t mean to insult you or dismiss what you believe. I get it now—there are things beyond intellect, beyond control, and…beyond me. I was wrong, and you were right. There. I should’ve believed in magic instead of trying to mock it. Please, is there anything I can do to fix this? I don’t want to keep living like this, I just can’t."
He hesitated for a moment before hitting send, his stomach twisting into a knot of hope and dread. Adam tossed the phone onto his bed and laid back, staring at the ceiling as the minutes stretched into hours. Every itch, every foul-smelling fart reminded him of his new reality. He tried to distract himself—cleaning the apartment, watching plays on Youtube, attempting to focus on some new Shakespearean analysis—but nothing worked. The stench hung in the air like a punishment, stuck to him no matter what.
By midday, Adam’s hope had started to wither into nothingness. George wasn’t going to respond. He probably didn’t even care. Maybe this was it—maybe this revolting, humiliating state was his life now. He sighed, dragging his hands through his sweaty hair, glancing toward his phone again. Still nothing. He swallowed the lump in his throat and paced around room, fidgeting with his bro clothes that clung to his now lean body like a cruel joke.
Bzzzz.
Adam rushed to his phone, his heart thudding against his chest as he unlocked the screen. A message from George appeared, and his breath caught.
“Curses can’t be undone, love.”
Adam’s face flushed with frustration. His jaw clenched as he stared at the words. All of that groveling, all of that begging, and this was the response? He typed furiously, his anger bubbling to the surface, but before he could send anything back, another message appeared.
“But I must admit. I didn’t think you would actually say that. Honestly, I really appreciate the apology. Why don’t call it even, huh? Why don’t I give you a gift?”
Adam blinked at the screen, his anger slowly dissipating into confusion. A gift? What kind of twisted gift could George possibly mean? If it was anything like the last, then he could keep it. But before he could protest, another message filled the screen.
“His arms, like oaks, doth stretch from end to end,
With strength to lift the world or crush its weight.
Their power matched with beauty none can fend,
Two mounds so vast as sunset’s final state.”
As Adam read the words, he felt a sudden warmth spread through his arms. Not again, he thought, but then his eyes darted down in alarm as his previously thin, lanky arms twitched, then bulged. He watched, wide-eyed, as his biceps began to swell, the muscles rippling and bubbling beneath his skin. The skin of his arms grew tight, barely able to contain the massive growth. His once scrawny arms were transforming into huge, muscular limbs—so strong, they looked like they could crush stone with a single flick.
He flexed experimentally, his new muscles hardening themselves like marble. His biceps were enormous, so large they cast a shadow on his bony torso. He stared in disbelief at his own body, feeling an unfamiliar surge of power rush through him.
His phone buzzed again, another text:
“His chest, like breasts of Venus round and great,
Two orbs of strength that push against the day.
Each pect’ral it’s own ball upon a beach,
So full, so firm, none dare to turn away.”
Adam’s gaze shifted down towards his chest, and once again, he felt the same warm, tingling sensation spread across his torso as he began to feel an unnerving top heaviness. His pecs swelled, pushing against the straps of his tank top until the neckline stretched even lower than before. His chest ballooned outward, each pec growing into a massive, rounded mound of muscle, firm and solid beneath his skin. His nipples presented so visibly, his chest now so large it jutted forward, casting a shadow over his barren stomach.
The weight of his new pecs made him feel even more powerful, even more in control. He couldn’t stop staring, watching the way his body filled out, how his once-flat chest had been replaced by two enormous mounds of muscle that jiggled involuntary with every breath. They were so big, so round, they almost looked unnatural—but Adam loved it nonetheless.
Another text…
“His stomach, carved like canyons deep and wide,
Each groove a trench, each line a valley low.
His legs, like trunks of ancient oaks abide,
With strength to stand through storm and sun and snow.”
Adam’s abdomen contracted, the sensation rippling through his core. He watched as the muscles on his stomach began to etch themselves into deep, chiseled grooves. His once-flat belly was now an eight-pack, every ridge and line so pronounced it looked like his abs had been carved out of granite. His waist boxed in, accentuating the sheer mass of his chest above and the powerful definition below.
His legs were next. His thighs bulged beneath his gym shorts, the muscles expanding rapidly, filling out with every second. His calves thickened into pillars of strength, his quads growing into enormous slabs of meat that made his legs look like logs. He was massive now, his entire body transformed into something that looked like it had been sculpted by the god Zeus himself.
The final couplet arrived, and as Adam read the words, he felt the last part of the transformation taking hold:
A man’s man, dominant, in every stride,
With looks that none, not man nor beast, can hide.”
As Adam gazed into the mirror, his eyes widened in awe. His reflection had changed entirely. He stood there, towering, his body brimming with strength and raw masculinity, as if he’d eaten raw eggs every day of his life since he was ten. His jawline was sharper, his posture more commanding, and the way he looked—it was undeniable. He was an alpha now. He demanded attention, respect, and desire. The smell, the stink that had once plagued him—it didn’t matter. His overwhelming physicality eclipsed all of it.
Adam grinned, a wave of confidence crashing over him. This was power. This was control. He grabbed a jacket, still feeling the massive stretch of his biceps as he slipped it over his shoulders, and headed out.
At the nearest gay bar, the moment Adam walked in, all eyes were on him. His broad shoulders and massive arms filled out his jacket in ways that left little to the imagination. He could see heads turning, guys sneaking glances at his hulking frame, his thick pecs nearly busting through his shirt. He walked up to the bar, and within seconds, a couple of older men sidled up to him, their eyes wide with interest.
One of them, a trucker looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and the crustiest mustache, leaned in, his voice low. “You’re looking good, boy. Smell like man too. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”
Adam wrinkled his nose slightly. The man was old, rotund, and ugly. He could do better, much better. “No thanks, ..sir,” Adam replied coldly, his voice deeper and more commanding than he remembered. The man’s face fell slightly, but Adam didn’t care. He was too busy reveling in the attention, in the way every guy in the bar seemed to be watching him, wanting his body.
As the night wore on, more and more guys approached, trying their luck with him. But none of them were good enough for Adam. He was an alpha now—he could have anyone he wanted, and the more he held out, the more they wanted.
And tomorrow? Tomorrow, he would go see George again. If George can do this for him. There’s no telling what else he could get out of the witchy twink.
THURSDAY
Adam took the tube immediately once he awoke and stood in front of George’s door, the weight of his muscular new form making him feel absolutely invincible. His inflated biceps and thick chest on the reflective glass of the door fed his ever growing ego, but deep down, he couldn’t help but shake this nagging doubt. George had done this to him—made him into a walking Marvel superhero, sculpted from stone, pure lust, and raw, unadulterated power. But was it enough? No, Adam wanted more. Needed more.
He knocked, his hairy knuckles bristling past the door handle. The first time he’d sought George, he’d dismissed the supernatural as nonsense. Now, with the power of George’s magic coursing through his sculpted body, Adam was ready to claim yet another piece of it. But this time, he knew he had to play his cards just a tad bit differently.
The door creaked open, and there stood George, his face shifting from surprise to a soft, almost suspicious smile. “Adam,” George purred. “Back so soon?”
Adam leaned against the doorframe, his massive arms bulging as he flexed them just enough to show off the strength George had given him. “Missed me?”
George raised an eyebrow, but his gaze lingered on Adam’s tits, those enormous pecs straining against the thin straps of his bro-ish muscle tank. There was a flicker of something in George’s eyes—desire, interest, maybe even a sliver of actual emotion, something he hadn’t felt in centuries. Adam noticed, and he played into it, taking a step closer, his voice low and smooth.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” Adam said, his hand grazing George’s arm. “About I’ve been thinking about just how much I owe you for this body, for… everything.”
George tilted his head, still guarded. “And what exactly do you want this time, Adam?”
“I don’t want anything,” Adam replied, his lips curling into a seductive smile. “Just you.”
He moved closer, his muscular frame dwarfing George’s, his presence overwhelming in the cramped air of the doorway. George hesitated for a moment, but Adam’s hand slipped to the nape of George’s neck, pulling him in with surprising gentleness. Their lips met, slowly melding together, turning into something hotter, far more dangerous. Adam’s thinly veiled cock rubbed against George’s abs as his walls came crumbling down, and for the first time, Adam felt the subtle shift in power—he had George, really had him.
The day blurred into heated moments, their bodies tangled in sheets and sweat. Adam was relentless, his new body a weapon of seduction, and George, for all his magic, succumbed to the raw physicality of it. They moved together with an intensity that neither had expected, sucking, fucking, and by the time they lay spent, George was quiet, staring at Adam with something akin to affection.
Adam, however, was already thinking ahead. He turned to George, still catching his breath. “You’ve got power, George. Magic.”
George giggled with a flush. “You’re just saying that.”
But Adam turned cold. “I want more of it.”
George’s face darkened. “What exactly are you asking for, Adam?”
Adam grinned, his arrogance returning now that the heat of the moment had passed. “Whatever gift you think I deserve. You’ve given me all this, how can I doubt your judgment, my sweet baby. My love. I’ll leave it up to you. Surprise me.”
George’s expression shifted from curiosity to something more guarded, his eyes narrowing as he watched Adam’s smug face. “Anything I want, huh?”
Adam shrugged, confidence oozing from every pore. “I trust you.”
George sat up, his fingers trailing along Adam’s broad chest as if considering his next move. For a long moment, he said nothing, then with a quiet, deceptive murmur, he recited:
"A man so well endowed, his length shall grow,
Eight inches, thick as snake in fabric’s cage,
His buttocks firm, a perch for all to show,
A bubble round to seat him firm with age."
Adam’s goosebumped body tingled immediately, the familiar warmth of transformation spreading through his lower regions. He let out a low, grunty moan as the sensation deepened, his cock thickening and lengthening under his teeny tiny shorts. Diameter growing as his ass tightened, the muscles swelling into perfect, round bubbles that pushed him slightly upward in the bed. He grinned, looking down at himself, clearly satisfied with George’s work.
“That’s more like it,” Adam murmured, his hands roaming over his newly enhanced assets. The heft of his cock felt incredible, and his ass, firm and plump, made him sit taller, more confidently. “I can’t wait to use this out in SoHo.” He turned to George, expecting more praise, more lust, but George’s face remained unreadable.
Then, George’s voice darkened, and he continued the sonnet.
"But this thick snake shall rise and never fall,
In constant stand, no peace, no quiet still.
His rounded arse shall breathe and stretch at call,
Each muscle loose, no seat can meet its will."
Adam’s smile faltered, confusion flickering in his eyes. The change happened so quickly—his cock, now a monstrous length, hardened immediately, pushing insistently against the fabric of his gym shorts. It throbbed, always erect, always at attention, with no sense of relief. He shifted uncomfortably as his ass, once firm and perfect, started to feel strangely loose towards the center. It twitched and clenched on its own, the muscles stretching and relaxing without his control, as if it was becoming an underground tunnel.
“Wait, what the—?” Adam stammered, sitting up, his hand moving to adjust his cock, but it wouldn’t soften. His asshole kept opening with a subtle, almost breathing sensation that made him feel unstable, as if he could fit a tube station in there.
George smirked, watching the realization dawn on Adam’s face. “Not quite what you expected, is it?”
Adam’s panic grew as he tried to stand, but the constant, unrelenting erection made every step uncomfortable. His ass moved with a will of its own, making it impossible for him to walk without awkwardly adjusting himself.
“Stop this,” Adam demanded, his voice sharp with fear. “Fix it!”
But George continued, his voice soft, but with a cutting edge:
"For every man he sees and thinks of thus,
A need shall spark, his body shall obey.
Two seconds more, his lips will ask with trust,
And if they say ‘yes,’ he cannot turn away."
Adam’s eyes widened in horror as the words sank in. The change was immediate. His mind, sharp and calculating, suddenly snapped. The second he looked at George, an overwhelming desire flooded him. He took a step forward, his voice trembling.
“George, I—” He swallowed, trying to fight the words that wanted to spill out, but they escaped anyway. “I want you… I need you. Please, let’s do it again.”
George’s smirk faded into something almost pitying as he stepped back, shaking his head. “No.”
Adam blinked, the refusal shocking him, but the need remained. His body trembled with desire, the thought of George sending his blood rushing. He reached out, desperate. “Please, I can’t—”
But George stood firm. “This is what you wanted, Adam. You wanted the magic. Now you’ve got it.”
Adam’s desperation turned into panic, the uncontrollable lust gnawing at him as he realized what had happened. “Please, you have to stop this! I can’t live like this!”
George’s eyes softened, but his voice remained firm. “If you never see me again, I can never curse you again. Plain and simple.”
Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the curse pressing down on him. He had no choice. He nodded stiffly, his voice shaking. “Fine.”
Without another word, he fled the apartment, the constant throbbing in his pants making every step unbearable, as if he were walking with a third leg. His ass twitched, loose and awkward, making him shift with every movement. He tried to keep his eyes down, avoid seeing anyone, avoid thinking about anyone. But as he neared his flat, he saw him—the old, fat man from the bar, the one with the crusty mustache he’d brushed off so easily the night before.
Adam’s eyes locked onto him, and the thought, just two seconds, crossed his mind. The change was instant.
“Hey,” Adam called out, already relieving his itchy erection, his voice unabashed from shame. “You wanna fuck me?”
The man’s eyes widened, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, I do. Let’s go boy”
Before Adam could stop himself, he moved closer, his body betraying him. They ended up in Adam’s flat, the humiliation sinking deeper as he stripped down, his body moving on its own, giving in to the fat man’s cock. Every moment was pleasure, the curse forcing him to enjoy it all. As the man’s fingers roamed into his hole, Adam’s cock stood painfully erect, his ass twitching and clenching, unable to resist the pleasure.
By the time it was over, Adam lay in bed, the old man’s snores filling the room. He stared at the ceiling, the weight of his actions crushing him. He hated it. He hated the curse, hated George, hated himself. But as he thought back to the encounter, a sickening sense of satisfaction settled in his chest.
Maybe this was who he was now. He’d become the horny, bro-ish slut he’d always railed against.
But hey, at least he still had his wits about him.
“You wanna go again,” he asked the sleeping bear.
He awoke. “Fuck yeah I do.”
FRIDAY
Adam groaned, his body still humming from the night before, shifting slightly in his bed, the weight of his smelly, bulging muscles pressing against the mattress in ways that felt less and less alien. The stench of sweat and sex clung to the sheets like a cruel reminder, but what gave him the most relief was that the old mustached bear, the fat man who had taken him, or he’d taken in, last night, was gone, leaving Adam with what few shreds of dignity he had left. For but a brief moment, Adam felt a glimmer of his old smart self, something buried deep beneath the layers of this cursed, grotesque transformation.
He brought himself up slowly, running a hand through his cum-soaked, dampened hair, trying to ignore the disgusting aire of musk that followed him everywhere. The night’s events replayed slowly in his mind, and each moment sent waves of heat rolling through him. He was disgusted with himself, yet somehow also satisfied. As much as he wanted to shake off the craziness of last night, something darker tugged within him—or instead, someone. Someone he couldn't control.
George.
The mere thought of him, that witchy smile, made Adam's heart pump and race. He tried to resist it, clenching his fists as he paced around his tiny studio. No. He wouldn’t give in. Not again. But the more he fought it, the stronger the curse became. His cock twitched in his shorts, eternally hardening more and more, his mind clouded with an overwhelming desire as he let out a massive burp. It was George. He needed George. He needed to see him, fuck him, even if it meant more and more of these horrible, disfiguring changes.
Without even realizing what he was doing, Adam was out the door, heading toward George’s place. His brain screamed at him to turn back, to stop this madness, but his feet kept moving, each step heavier with the weight of inevitability. He arrived at George’s door, his heart pounding so hard it echoed in his ears. Before he could second-guess himself, he knocked.
The door creaked open, and there stood George, the same knowing smile curling on his lips, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Back so soon?” George asked, voice dripping with mockery.
Adam swallowed, his throat tight. His body screamed with need, the throbbing in his pants unbearable. “I… I need to fuck you,” he stammered, the words barely making it out. His muscles tensed, his breath shallow. “Please, George. I just want to stick my-”
“No.” George’s tone was sharp, cold. “I warned you, Adam.”
Adam froze, his heart sinking. Panic flooded his chest. “No, wait, I… I—” He turned to flee, the humiliation too much to bear, but George’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
“You’re not going anywhere,” George said softly, a cruel edge to his voice. With a flick of his hand, Adam’s body locked in place, muscles freezing as though they were held by invisible chains. Adam’s eyes widened in fear as George circled him like a predator, his gaze sweeping up and down Adam’s massive form.
“You could’ve been so wonderful, Adam,” George whispered, his fingers trailing across Adam’s rigid biceps. “If only you weren’t so obsessed with being better than everyone else.” George stopped in front of him, his eyes gleaming. “But don’t worry. I’m going to fix that.”
Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, his giant mind racing with panic. He tried to move, to speak, but nothing worked. He was trapped, helpless, his body at George’s mercy. And then, George began to recite.
“This man, with wit so sharp, shall find it dull,
His tongue to fail at words with length and grace.
In single beats, his speech doth make him full,
No thought can break the barrier of his face.”
Adam’s head buzzed as George’s words sank into his soul. He tried to protest, to say something, anything, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out were simple, one-syllable words, clumsy and slow like the dumbass he used to make fun of, the one he was about to become. “Wh-what… you… do…?” he stammered, struggling through each word. His brain felt like it was being squeezed, cell by cell, every attempt to say something even somewhat intelligent or complex was met with a foggy, impenetrable wall.
“No… more…” he managed, but even that felt like a battle. His tongue stumbled within his mouth, his speech slurring as the magic took further hold. Adam’s face twisted in frustration, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even think of a word longer than one syllable. His mind was trapped in this humiliating simplicity, a far cry from the sharp intellect he once wielded.
George smiled, watching the struggle unfold with sadistic delight. “You’re already looking more like yourself, love.” He continued, his voice low and melodic.
“A jaw so slack, it barely knows its place,
His mouth hangs wide, flies wander through the door.
With 'duh' his mind reflects upon his face,
A smile so dumb, he trusts each word, what's more.”
As the next words spread themselves throughout the air and landed onto Adam’s face, he felt his jaw slacken into a relaxed position, the muscles in his face going completely limp. His mouth hung open, agape, his lips parting into a dumb, vacant expression. He could feel the cold air tickling his teeth as a small, stupid smile crept onto his face. He tried to close his mouth, to tighten his jaw, but it wouldn’t obey him. No matter how hard he tried, it remained slack, open, like a door left ajar.
Flies buzzed around, and before he knew it, one flitted into his mouth. He barely registered it, too dazed, too numb to even care. His face felt frozen in that idiotic grin, his eyes glazed over. Worse yet, every word George said sounded so… true. Every part of him wanted to believe whatever George told him, his gullibility sinking deep into his bones.
Adam’s mind screamed at him to resist, to hold onto what was left of his pride, but that part of him was fading fast. His lips, still curled in a stupid smile, parted again. “Uh… yeah, right…” he muttered, barely able to form coherent thoughts. His voice sounded thick and dopey, like it belonged to someone else, someone who couldn’t even spell Shakespear.
George’s voice softened, almost tender. “See, isn’t that easier? No more thinking, no more overcomplicating things. Just smile, and trust whatever I, or anyone tells you.”
Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, but his mind couldn’t focus. His thoughts were slipping away, replaced by something far simpler, far more primal.
“His thoughts now cloud with only two desires,
To lift, to bed, these things alone will stay.
His mind a fog, of neither will it tire,
And all else fades, in gym and bed to play.”
With those words, haze descended over Adam’s mind. Thoughts, once sharp and filled with wit, were now muddled, clouded with only two overpowering urges. He wanted to work out. He wanted to fuck. Everything else—his career, his pride, his intellect—faded into the background, meaningless, never to be seen again.
Images of bench presses flashed into his shrinking mind, the sensation of cold iron in his sweaty hands, the strain of his muscles as they bulged and flexed. And then there was sex—hot, mindless sex. His cock throbbed in his shorts, and the desire, the absolute need for physical release overwhelmed him, drowning out any other thought. Working out, fucking, working out, fucking, again and again and again. That was all that mattered now. Nothing else made sense, not like he could comprehend it anyways.
Adam tried to resist, to push through the fog, but alas, it was no use. His mind was too far gone, too consumed by primal urges. He let out a resonant, needy groan, his thoughts too disorganized to form any coherent plan of escape.
George watched with satisfaction as Adam’s transformation neared its end. With a triumphant smile, he delivered the final couplet.
“And now this man goes by initials who,
With knowledge slight, no higher than eight-two.”
As George’s last words took their hold, Adam felt the last remnants of his old self slip away, the final pieces of his mind shattering like glass into a distant oblivion. He wasn’t Adam anymore. He was… AJ. His name was AJ, always had been. That dumb, jockish grin became permanent across his face as his old life rewrote itself. His memories, once filled with scholarships, academic debates, tragedies and comedies, were now replaced by scenes of the gym, of flexing in front of the mirror, of fucking nameless faces in dark, sweaty backrooms.
His chest swelled with pride at the thought of lifting those heavy weights, of feeling the burn in his muscles as he pushed himself harder and harder. His thoughts were no longer burdened by complicated ideas or big words. They were simple, direct. Lift. Fuck. Repeat. That was it.
AJ blinked, his slack jaw hanging open as he stood there in front of George, his once bright mind now dim, sluggish, and focused only on the most basic of desires. His body reeked of fart and musk, his mind a tangled mess of lust and primal urges. His life as Adam, the intellectual, was gone. All that remained was AJ, a dumb, slutty, smelly jock.
George stepped back, admiring his handiwork as AJ smiled dumbly at him, his eyes empty, his brain no longer capable of critical thought. “You look perfect, AJ,” George said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.
AJ’s grin widened, his thick tongue lolling slightly as he scratched at his crotch. “Th-thanks… bro,” he slurred, his voice deep and stupid.
“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” George murmured, tilting AJ’s chin up so their eyes met.
AJ’s smile grew even wider, his lips twitching as he struggled to form words. “Yeah, bro,” he said, his voice slow and thick. “I’m… real good.”
George couldn’t help but laugh. AJ was exactly what he had imagined—empty-headed, obedient, and driven by nothing more than his primal instincts. “You won’t be needing any of those big words anymore, will you, AJ?” George asked, his voice dripping with condescension.
AJ shook his head, his brow furrowing slightly as if even that small movement required a great deal of effort. “Nuh-uh,” he mumbled. “Big words are… uh… too hard.”
“Exactly,” George said, patting AJ’s cheek lightly. “And from now on, you’re going to live a very simple life. No more worrying about being better than anyone else. No more trying to prove how smart you are. You’ll be much happier this way. Just working out, fucking, and doing whatever you’re told.”
AJ nodded slowly, his thick muscles pulling and rippling beneath his skin as he flexed unconsciously. “Yeah, bro,” he agreed, his voice, like his mind, slow. “I like… liftin’... an’ fuckin’...”
“Now, AJ,” George said with command, “I think it’s time you head to the gym. You wouldn’t want to miss leg day, would you?”
AJ’s eyes widened slightly, the thought of working out sending a thrill of excitement through his body. “Leg day,” he repeated. “Yeah, bro. I gotta… lift.”
George smirked, watching diligently at his Frankenstein creation as AJ’s single-minded focus shifted completely to the gym. “That’s right, big guy. Go on, hit the weights, and make sure everyone sees how big and strong you are.”
AJ beamed, his dim-witted grin stretching even wider. “Gotta pump some iron.” And as AJ disappeared into the distance, George sighed, knowing the man who’d once scoffed at him, at the very idea of magic and fate was now living proof of it’s power, his entire existence rewritten by just a few simple words. George smirked, satisfied once again, and waited for the next asshole to match with him on Hinge.
AJ, meanwhile, wandered toward the gym, his thoughts a jumbled mess of anticipation and primal urges. He could feel the weight of his bulging muscles with every step, the tightness of his tank top stretching across his massive chest. The constant itch in his groin had him adjusting his shorts every few seconds, a fart always ready in the chamber, and his cock already hard at the thought of the next guy he’d meet, or the next weight he’d lift. He grinned stupidly, flexing his biceps as he prepared for the first set. “Let’s go, bro,” he muttered to himself, his voice thick with excitement. “Time to get swole.”
And with that, AJ’s transformation was complete. The man he had once been—Adam, the intellectual, the scholar—was gone, replaced by a farting, burping, simple-minded, horny, muscle-obsessed jock who lived only for the gym, for sex, and for any task any man asked for.
“Life’s good, bruh.”
#male transformation#mental change#tf story#gay tf#muscle tf#broification#iq loss#fart kink#dumber#himbo tf#himbofication
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the words i cant say
summary - matt is infatuated with you, you’re all he ever thinks about now. having no one to let these secrets out to, he decided why not write about them instead..
it was killing him, having to keep these secrets to himself for so long was tiring. the only thing being his outlet was his journal, pages among pages filled with him just rambling about you. of course he would never tell you these things, afraid of going over your boundaries and ruining the whole friendship.
if you were to ask him what he loved most about you he wouldn’t be able to answer that question, he loved every single bit of you. of course he wrote about that as well, he couldn’t not think about you even if he tried.
a couple weeks ago..
“her everything is perfect, her eyes, her style, her humor, the way her smile brightens when i compliment her on anything - june 19th”
“she looked so pretty today, i kept staring at her lips i hope she didn’t notice.. - june 25th”
“her voice is the sweetest thing i’ve ever heard, i can talk to her for hours - july 12th”
“i cant help but wonder if she thinks about me the way i think about her - july 22nd”
to shorten it down he was in love with you, and he had no plan of telling you anytime soon.
he wanted to push these feelings away, feeling bad for pining over his own best friend while you had no knowledge of it. he couldn’t help it though, he thinks back to the countless amount of times you two had spent together. late night drives, going thrifting, or just staying in watching cheesy rom-com movies.
during group settings his eyes would wonder over to you, staring longingly at you laughing and smiling big while you were having the time of your life. you would turn your head and see his light colored eyes looking at you with a soft expression, which ended up in both of you turning away while heat rushed to your cheeks.
there was some nights where you stayed up thinking about him, just wondering what if? but you brushed it off, thinking maybe its all in your head..
you were coming over today, it was nothing new, you always came over to hang out when you didn’t have anything specifically planned. you were excited to see matt, you haven’t seen him in two weeks due to his work schedule and all of his meetings piled up. he finally had a free day and you were overly excited when he asked you if you wanted to hang out.
you loved spending time with him, no matter what it was. as long as it was with him you were happy.
he had texted you to come whenever you wanted, you were already in pretty comfy clothes so you got your keys and left. the drive there was calm, music flowing through the car consumed the silence and before you know it you’re already in their driveway.
you texted matt that you were outside already and not even a minute passes before you hear the door unlock and open, you were met with his disheveled figure, hair messy, slightly cropped shirt and sweatpants resting low on his waist..
“finally kid you’re here, you were taking forever” a smile spread across his face as he rolled his eyes sarcastically. you step inside as he holds the door for you, “i haven’t seen you in forever and you already have a attitude??” you say raising an eyebrow as you set your keys down on the table.
“oh come on, you know i missed you doll.” that name. you didn’t hear it often but when you did your cheeks would turn bright red as you stumble over your words. that stupid grin on his face said everything you needed to know. “i missed you too, matt!!” you flashed a cheesy smile at him before you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest.
a couple months ago..
“the feeling of her arms around my waist feels so right.. wish i could always have her this close. - january 17th”
“she has to know what she’s doing, right?? fuck. her smile makes me weak. - january 29th”
“she looked gorgeous in that top with the little bow, her hair done up differently, her pretty jewelry scattered around her figure as well, i couldn’t help but steal glances each time she wasn’t looking in the car. - february 6th”
you return the hug, his comforting scent surrounds you, making you feel at peace. finally feeling his warmth that you longed for for a little too long, you both pull away and his face lights up. “shit- i forgot i had gotten you something when i was away, come on” your face forms into a confused expression “you didn’t have to do that matt, you know that right??” your smile still being very evident as you protest him getting you a gift.
“yeah yeah i know, but it made me think of you so i haddd to get it!” he grabbed your hand and dragged you over to his room, you flop down on the bed as he searches around looking for the gift. you hear him scattering around while muttering words to himself until a certain book under his pillow catches your eye.. you didn’t know matt was getting into reading? “ooh matt what book are you reading?” you hold it up to show him the hardcover journal.
“huh? im not readin- WAIT!“ you open it up to see your name on the first page, several times actually. you scan through it curiously, you finally realize that it was definitely not a regular book. he was basically confessing his love to you in every single page, matt was too late as he rushed over to you snatching the book from your hands.
you quickly stand up, jaw basically on the floor and your face redder than ever. you didn’t even know what to say, its not like you didn’t feel the same because you did.. its just you couldn’t believe he wrote all of that about you. “l-look y/n i can explain i just-“ his words coming out in stutters “matt, matt please, just calm down. okay? y-you’re okay, come on..” you lead him back over to his bed, both of you sitting down at the edge. “im really, really sorry y/n you weren’t supposed to read that. i understand if you feel uncomfortable or if you wanna leav-“ you cut him off bringing your hand to his cheek and leaning in, your lips colliding with his.
you caught him off guard but he instantly kisses back, you smile into the kiss and bring your other hand to back of his neck pulling him more in. his hands traveling down to your hips, holding onto you like you could disappear any moment. you both finally pull away, heavy breathing while you watch that same stupid grin form on his face.
“what?” you ask laughing. “nothing, its just- i’ve always thought i would be the one to kiss you first” his smirk growing wider by the second. “oh shut up, you’re so corny” you roll your eyes in a playful manner and push at his shoulder a little.
“i really did mean it you know? everything i said in that journal. you really, really mean a lot to me and i- i can’t see myself loving anyone else other than you y/n. since the first day i met you.” tears forming in your eyes as he continues to talk, “you mean everything to me. words can’t express how i feel for you, i would’ve said something sooner but i didn’t wanna ruin the relationship we already had and-“ you laugh at his mouth running off again, his nervousness taking over once more.
“matt, please im so sorry but shh. i feel the same way, you weren’t really the best at hiding that staring problem of yours you know..” you giggle at his embarrassed expression “i love you, a lot. you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, you were always there for me whenever i needed someone and you never fail to make my days better. i love you so much.” he watches you in awe, how could someone so precious be in front of him right now?
“so does this mean like, im your boyfriend now, right..?” you giggle and take his hand into yours “well.. i dont know, i haven’t been asked yet..” he smiles and gives your hand a small kiss. “y/n, may i be your boyfriend?” your smile growing ten times bigger before you nod your head immediately. “yes, yes yes YES!” your arms instantly wrapping around his neck as you pull him into another kiss, this time it was filled with love, and patience. the world stopped the second you two filled the gap in between, until you feel him pull back.
“i love you so fucking much y/n. words wont ever be enough for me to show you how much i really do.”
“wait. what about my gift though?”
- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-
my first fic.. this took me like 2 days to write because i had no idea on how to go with this, i feel like its kinda all over the place too it feels rushed to me idk why 😭😭 if there is any mistakes or missing words, NO THERE ISNT. please be nice, again this is my first time writing. im always open for ideas or tips on anything!! also thank you to @flouvela for encouraging me on writing this ILYSM GF 🤍🤍 ok bye now!!
#— ⋆ ˚｡ writings .ᐟ ꩜#ifwdominicfike ⋆｡𖦹°‧#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fluff#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo imagine#sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo triplets imagines#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturiolo fanfic#matt sturniolo angst#matt stuniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo blurb
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Exhausted, Papyrus fell on his knees in the dust. It was covering everything in the room, from the floor to the ceiling. The main door was gone, like most of the windows. Thankfully, no monster tried to enter the balcony, too high. Papyrus crawled to pick up the door, still in one piece by some miracle, and put it in its place. The hinges were gone with a part of the wall, but he forced it to hold by nailing it with some planks that held the windows closed and was now on the floor.
He picked up his phone, hidden deep in his armor. His hands were still shaking with the adrenaline. Sans left about twenty messages, asking if he was fine, then warning him Frisk was gone, then asking him again if he was alright, more and more distressed as the hours went by.
Papyrus simply sent: "Alive. Frisk here." before walking to the kitchen to make sure the child was fine. Several bullets ricocheted against the closet door, but it faced the brunt efficiently. He cleared the chairs out of the way and opened the door, maybe too brutally.
Frisk screamed out of terror and threw themselves in the back of the cabinet. They curled up on themselves, hands on the head, sobbing uncontrollably. They were shaking as well.
Papyrus flinched. He saw himself at five years old, in the same position, as Sans was screaming and fighting for their lives in the living room. This was not a world to grow up. No child should ever be born in this hellish place. Bitter, he felt his soul squeezed painfully. It was his fault. He should have brought the child back to the Ruins. Frisk shouldn't have assisted to any of this.
The skeleton kneeled at their level. He never had been really talented to comfort people.
"Frisk? It's over, they're gone. You can come out."
He leaned a hand towards the human. Frisk kicked it away and tried to get as far as they could from him in the closet. Papyrus tried to stay neutral, but his face betrayed for a few seconds how much it hurt him. He didn't want Frisk to be scared of him. Not after everything they went through to protect them.
The skeleton looked around for a second and noticed a hole in the closet door. Small, but enough for a child to witness everything that happened outside. Frisk saw him slaughter attackers and end monsters on the floor without mercy. Papyrus felt guilty. He gave the child some space and sat in front of the closet, unsure what to do.
No Weakness, Chapter 3.
_______________________________________
Hello, hello!
I commissioned this masterpiece to @seirindono, a French (yeah, team French!) illustrator who works on a multi AU universe called The Missing Scarf, which is a banger. Really cool comic with lots of great characters that you really want to read. Go read it!
I wasn't sure on which fic I wanted a drawing at first, but since we already got one for Horrortale: Rotten Apple (thanks again Zeragii, love you), why not No Weakness?
It's a post-pacific Underfell fic where instead of breaking the Barrier, Sans refused Frisk to fight Asgore and brought them back in safety to Toriel. Now Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Mettaton, Toriel and Sans are hiding the child away, trying not to get killed.
The story however is about Undyne and Papyrus' friendship. After Papyrus surprises Undyne kissing Asgore, he is promoted to general of the Royal Guard. Except Papyrus knows something is really wrong here, since that role was obviously supposed to Undyne's. But the more he tries to understand, the more people try to dissuade him from learning more. All the hints lead to Asgore, but how to reach the monarch without getting himself killed, and by extension, those he cares the most about? Between his duty and his friendship, Papyrus will have to make a choice.
I asked for one of my favorite parts ever, which is the moment Frisk realizes how things really work in Underfell, after witnessing Papyrus committing carnage right after he got promoted to General. It's tradition :D
Anyway, if you want to read the story, it's right here. I'm on summer break right now, but new chapters are coming soon!
Thanks again to Seirindono for their amazing work, I love it so much <3 Really great artist, don't hesitate to commission them! They're really nice and pays great attention to details. It was really cool collaborating with you <3
Go send them some love!
#undertale au#underfell#underfell papyrus#undertale#uf papyrus#no weakness#uf frisk#underfell frisk#underfell fic#underfell fanfic#undertale ask blog#undertale headcanons#papyrus#underfell art#seirindono
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Cherry Popping
Summary: When you’re left alone with your father’s good friend James Kelly, you try to seduce him- but you soon realise you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.
Content warnings: Mild dubcon, loss of virginity, rough p in v sex, fingering, choking, degradation, humiliation, creampie
WC: 2.8k
You’d gotten used to James hanging around- you’d spent many of your childhood summers peering into the garage where he worked with your father. A long time had passed since he was just a mechanic’s apprentice but he maintained a close friendship with your family, often coming by on weekends for a cold beer and catch up. Everything had remained the same for years- everything apart from you.
As you grew older, the way you looked at him changed. Thanks to a fresh influx of hormones, you were filled with a newfound curiosity for him- his familiarity was washed away and replaced with anxious desire. Now prior to his arrival, you’d spritz yourself with perfume and change into something short and pink. Your dad, being endearingly clueless as usual, would comment on how nice the floral fragrance that his princess was wearing was and you’d squeak out “Thanks daddy! Just tryin’ out somethin’ new, ya know?”
As was your routine, you’d skip along happily to the garage whenever you heard the familiar hum of his engine and you’d practise working up the nerve to ask him if he wanted something to drink. He’d flash you a bright smile that made you weak in the knees and usually declined your offer, insisting he could get it himself. You always felt a little saddened, sorely craving the opportunity to show him care and attention with some good old-fashioned hospitality.
On one particular weekend, you’d spent the day attending to your dad- who had elected to stay home from work after battling a nasty virus for the entirety of the previous night. James- ever gracious- came over bearing medicine and various snacks as soon as he found out, stepping into the lounge where your dad lay to crack some distasteful joke and bring him a canister of tea before leaving him to nap.
“I could’ve done that.” You murmured once he stepped out and closed the door behind him.
“No need, we wouldn’t want you catching whatever your old man’s got.” He smiles earnestly and you feel your breath catch in your throat as your mind goes blank, an increasingly awkward silence lingering between you.
“So how is everything, kid? School going well and all that?” He diffuses the tension.
“I’m not in school anymore James.” You giggle at how misinformed he is.
“Ah my bad, I guess I don’t know you as well as I’d like.” He looks away, rubbing the back of his head and you can’t help but admire his gorgeous side profile, choppy dark hair framing his sculpted face.
“And how well would you like to know me?” You mumble, barely above a whisper.
“I’m sorry?” He raises his eyebrows and cocks his head at you, assuming he misheard you.
“Nothing- you know, the lightbulb in the bathroom needs changing and I just can’t reach it! Could you help me?” You ask in your sweetest voice, batting your eyelashes.
“Of course, in here?” He points to the bathroom down the hallway, stepping in.
“Yep, the ceiling is too tall and I can’t find anything to step on.” You hold the bulb in your hand and huff defeatedly.
“I’ll go grab a chair-“
“Or you could just give me a leg up.” You interrupt, wanting desperately to feel his calloused hands wrapped securely around you.
“Uh-I mean, sure.” He stutters, realising he doesn’t have much of a choice when your hands make their way to his broad shoulders.
You jump up as his firm grip tightens over your barely clothed thighs and hips, holding you up with bated breath. You pretend to fiddle with the screw of the bulb, prolonging the moment as you memorise every detail of his touch on your skin.
“You got it?” He asks uncomfortably, facing the opposite direction from you.
“Yeah, almost! It’s just so - ugh- damn slippery!” You pretend, making sure to stretch out so that your already short skirt is further raised- hem brushing against his knuckles. “Just can’t seem to get it in…” You mumble and he looks up at you, shooting you an unconvinced glare.
“If you wanted me to touch you, you could’ve just said.” He sighs, unamused with your little act.
“I-I don’t know what you mean James, I’m just struggling with the bulb.” You chuckle incredulously before he drops you a little, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist with a gasp. “James! I-“
“You’ve done enough talking.” He mutters and lowers you against the sink, your legs still wrapped around his torso as he lifts up your skirt, taking a peek at your lace panties. You’re rendered speechless- you don’t know what you were expecting when you were being flirty but it wasn’t this.
“You’re over 18, right?” He stops for a moment, both hands squishing the soft flesh of your thighs.
“Yes, way over.” You huff- how did he still think you were a kid?
“Enough with the attitude.” He grabs you by the cheeks with one hand and stares right through you with steely blue eyes. “You think you’re all grown up now? Ready to be treated like a real woman?” He asks you with such intensity it feels like a life or death matter.
“I am.” You mumble and bite your lip nervously. You had no idea what he had in mind for you but you knew you wanted it all, whatever it was.
“You’re certainly dressed like it.” He inspects your low-cut top and short skirt, now hitched around your hips with your thong on display for him. “You’re asking for it walking around like this. And daddy just lets you? If you were my daughter, you’d never be allowed to parade around my friends dressed like a slut. Perverts would be thinking all sorts of things.” His eyes roam your body, fingers lifting your top and caressing the bare skin underneath.
“You mean perverts like you?” You blink at him innocently.
“Exactly.” A grin spreads across his face as he grabs you by the throat and brings you closer to him, his warm breath on your neck. “I want to ruin you.” He drawled in his husky, deep voice and you felt the damp spot in your panties spreading.
You need him to know how much you want him so you lean in to meet his lips in a soft, touching embrace. You feel his smirk disperse into the kiss and he pulls away, laughing.
“What’s funny?” You curve your eyebrows into an adorable swoop.
“You kiss like a…like a-“
“A little girl?” You cross your arms. “How would you know how a little girl kisses?”
“Don’t be an idiot, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just so….innocent. You kiss like you’ve never been hurt before. Like you’ve already given yourself to me.” He brushes past your cheeks with his knuckles.
“That’s because I have.” You declare as you peel off your top, revealing your bare chest to him in the process since you’d decided to forego a bra. He stares at your perky breasts in awe, cupping one softly and brushing over your nipple with his thumb. His cock twitches at the sight of you exposed all for him, legs spread and tits out while your father was asleep down the hall.
“How pretty…when did these grow?” He notes amusedly as his touch becomes harsher, squeezing them with some force. A shudder spreads over your body as your legs instinctively part, needing to feel him inside you.
“Want me to pop your cherry, baby?” He offers and you wince at his lusty tone. Before you even get the chance to nod in confirmation, he’s pulling your panties down, tossing them behind him.
“You know how this is done, yeah?” He asks with half his attention, focus stolen by the sight of your glisteningly wet pussy.
“Uhuh, I do. I’ve seen it.” You choke out anxiously.
“Of course you do, such a smart girl. Have you been watching naughty videos?” He spreads your thighs with an iron grip, gazing directly into the creaminess forming between your legs.
“Only once or twice.” You insist, worried you were going to get in trouble.
“It’s okay darlin’, perfectly natural to be curious about these things.” He rubs his thumb across your clit and you flinch a little at the unfamiliar sensation. “I bet you’ve been struggling with some new feelings, haven’t you?”
You furrow your eyebrows and hang your head in shame. “I get this fuzzy feeling right there where you’re touching me- and it doesn’t go away for so long! Feels like butterflies and I don’t know how to get rid of them.”
“Poor baby, that sounds so tough. You just need someone to help you out, don’t you? Well that’s what daddy’s friends are for, sweetheart.” He coos affectionately and you lean into his touch, feeling so protected.
“Please help me.” You whine, slender fingers fidgeting with the zip of his jeans.
“Such a needy little thing.” He mutters, pushing your hands away to undo the trousers himself, sliding them off until he’s in nothing but his black boxers. Your face scrunches up in disbelief as your fingertips trail the outline of his cock, girthy and hard.
“Don’t give me that look. I’ll be so gentle, I promise.” He redirects your attention to his voice, cupping your face and kissing you sweetly.
“You don’t have to be that gentle.” You murmur into the kiss and he chuckles breathily, hand trailing back down between your thighs to slip a finger inside you.
You gasp at the unexpected intrusion and grab onto his firm shoulder.
“Shh, it’s alright. Just need to loosen you up a lil’ bit.” He hushes you as he adds another one, strong fingers curling up into your squishy flesh. A soft moan escapes your plump lips and a fire rages in your chest when you look down at the sight of his veiny forearm situated between your spread legs, wetness pouring down his large hand.
“Please…I need it.” You whine into his mouth as he sloppily kisses you.
“Be patient, baby. I’m gonna rip you apart if you’re not ready. This tight little pussy couldn’t take it.” He consoles you, pressing his fingers deeper and deeper inside you.
“You said you wanted to ruin me, didn’t you?” You groan, the feeling of his fingers suddenly woefully inadequate. He sighs and slips them out, resting his palm on the cold basin by your thigh.
“Fine, but I don’t want to hear any crying.” He warns you with a raised eyebrow before slipping down his boxers and releasing his throbbing cock. You’d never seen one before but your mouth watered and your eyes darkened with lust at the sight.
“Be a good girl and spread those legs for me.” Ever obedient, you open them wide as he shuffles in between you, gliding his ridged tip smoothly over your slit- making you shudder every time the soft skin brushed past your swollen clit.
He lazily pushed the tip in, not bothering to warn you beforehand and you whimpered sharply at the painful stretch. He disregards your discomfort and pushes all the way in, bottoming out until his abdomen grazed yours.
Your lips part, threatening to release another cry but he clamps his hand tightly over your mouth before it can spill out.
“Ah, ah. What did I say?” He tuts softly and stares blankly at your crinkled expression. “You can take it. You’re a big girl, remember?” He begins to rock into you, stretching you out so much you have to grip the edge of the countertop, sharp edge cutting into your palms. The hand that isn’t muffling your moans is at the back of your neck, a firm grasp holding you in place on either end. In this position, he has complete control over your body. You are nothing but a fucktoy to be used for his amusement- and he doesn’t even look that amused.
Your breathy, stifled gasps continue with every thrust as you struggle to adjust to the intensity of his thrusts.
“What’s the matter, sweetie? Does it hurt?” He feigns concern but you don’t pick up on his insincerity.
“Y-yes!” You choke back tears, body tensed up as his cock bullied your little cunt relentlessly.
“Good.”
He snakes his hand around your throat and squeezes until you feel your heartbeat pulsating in your neck.
“All I had to do was be a little nice and you let me stick my cock in you.” He leers mockingly. “And with daddy next door, no less. How desperate are you? Are you sure you’re even a virgin?” He swipes a towel off the rack beside him and places it between where your bodies meet. You stare at him in confusion and he smirks.
“This is so he doesn’t hear when I start pounding into you.”
He grabs the panties he tossed aside earlier and gestures for you to open your mouth.
“And this is so no one can hear you scream, baby.” He stuffs the bundle of fabric into your mouth and your eyes widen as he snaps his hips forward, slamming into you roughly. He hooks his hands under your armpits and grips you by the shoulders as he mercilessly pounds into you, the smacks of flesh all but silenced by the towel- apart from the wet sloshing that echoed off the bathroom tiles.
“Do you actually like this? Oh baby, what a sick freak. You really are perfect for me.” He moans at the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your panting growing erratic.
“Can I trust you to be quiet?” He asks and you nod vigorously, wanting so badly to gain his approval. “Yeah? I wanna hear those pretty little moans. But you have to be so quiet baby. Think you can do that f’me?” He whispers into your ear and plants a couple of wet kisses on the side of your face. A string of drool follows as he carefully removes the panties from your mouth, wiping any remnant of spit off your bottom lip with his thumb.
“There we go…” He mutters breathily, the pleasure catching up to him as his thrusts grew sloppier. This is a memory he would cherish forever: the sound of wet squelching as he fucked you into the sink.
He pulled all the way out before harshly burying himself back inside you with a smack of his hips, letting you feel every part of him as if it were your privilege and not his.
You loved the feeling of being caged under him, not able to escape even if you wanted to. The pain subsided and the fuzzy feeling returned, prompted by the way the base of his cock brushed against your clit.
“Aah- oh! Ugh, daddy.” You slurred quietly.
“Silly baby.” He teased. “I’m not your daddy.”
You babbled disjointedly as his hard thrusts sped up, your inner thighs dripping with arousal and sweat.
“Have I fucked you dumb already? Baby doesn’t even know who her daddy is anymore.” He mutters absent-mindedly, staring at the creaminess coating his dick. “I’m doing you a favour, you know? No one wants to fuck a virgin. Too much hassle. So you’re welcome.” He struggles to peel his eyes away from the sight of his painfully hard cock disappearing into your swollen pussy. “Say thank you.” He slams into you especially roughly after you don’t respond.
“Fuck! Th-thank you. Thank you James, thank you so much!” You whine, on the verge of fainting.
“Good girl. Now I’m going to pump you full of my cum- and you’re going to like it.” He sneers and you’re too fucked out to form a response, allowing him to use you in any way he desired instead.
With one final impact, he pounds into your cunt and spills his seed into you, bowing his head to bite you on the shoulder in an attempt to stifle his moans. You can’t do anything but sit there, aching and used up.
He pulls out as his heavy breaths regulate and he sits on the edge of the bathtub, admiring the way his cum leaked out of your abused hole.
“Next time, I’ll teach you how to suck my cock.” He remarks casually and you squeeze your thighs together at the thought of there being a next time.
“Open.” He slaps the side of your leg lightly. “I don’t want to see you wearing panties anymore when I’m around, okay?”
You bite your lip and nod obediently.
“Your dad was right, you really are such a good girl.”
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