#I forgot to tag those in the last few post OH WELL

[kindheartedgummybears]

better look at her:

if yall see a weird flower-looking object in her hair no you dont

better look at Jamie too since yall only saw the far away back of her💀

She looks horrible, I love her.

[heartorbit]

find another role, carry on the show

[namikawa]

— [the perfect host]

featuring: s. geto, s. gojo

cw: smut, implied threesome, cunnulingus, implied m/m, phone sex (?), daddy kink (ofc), established relationship (reader & gojo), fingering, fem reader, chubby reader, getting “caught” masturbating, use of the word cunt (sorry lol), aftercare, not proofread fr, anything else i forgot lolz, pet names (mama, baby, pretty, sweetheart, love). wc: n/a.

notes: this is actually a fic my friend wrote (never published) & i re did it with two diff characters & finished it for her cause she never did… so if yall like it GO TO HER BLOG ILL TAG HER. this wasn’t my og idea i just wrote the smut and tweaked & added. but enjoy pls, sorry i haven’t posted in so long life has beat me up. @nvmjccnluv !!!

“so explain to me why i’m watching her again, she seems completely capable of staying in your apartment alone yknow.” suguru questions over the phone. it’s not that he hates you, but what if he was busy? he wasn’t, but gojo didn’t need to know that, he didn’t even ask to be fair. quickly dropping you off after handing the long haired man a small bag of your things.

on the other end of the phone gojo lets out a huff of laughter. “had a few things to finish up, she gets too lonely when i leave her at home so i didn’t want her getting into things. you know how it is.”

“i actually don’t, but okay man.”

“anyway, she doesn’t like many people but she didn’t seem to mind you the last time we hung out, you seemed like a safe option.” gojo continues, sounding a bit strained.

“okay, whatever, fine.”

“where’s she at anyways? if she was with you she would’ve jumped your bones to get to the phone.”

walking toward the the closed door in the hallway, geto chuckles before reassuring his friend. “relax dude, she’s in the room taking a na- holy shit.”

-

“what happened??”

the dark haired man places his ear on the door to make sure he’s not hallucinating, not saying that he’s hoping to be.

muffled moans greet his ears, but not muffled enough evidently. no, you wanted him to hear. he would have to pass by your room anyways, given that you two would be sharing a wall for the night. but him being on the phone with your boyfriend was just a coincidence, an extremely embarrassing one.

he listens to your soft whines and high pitched whimpers for what feels like days, though its hasn’t even been half a minute, paying no mind to the man yelling at him on the phone.

“SUGURU? ANSWER ME! IS SHE OKAY? I SWEAR IF SOMETHING HAPPE-” at this point geto tries to think as hard as possible to come up with a lie that won’t get him killed by his friend.

snapping out of his daze, he finally gets enough courage to respond, “yeah um i’m pretty sure, maybe i’m wrong, i think she’s uh masturbating.”

“oh, oh okay” suguru can basically hear a smirk he knows all to well forming on gojos mouth. “don’t be a rude host, go help her out man.”

what the fuck is he talking about help you out? he can’t be understanding that this is his girlfriend he’s talking about, right? on top of that, shouldn’t he be asking you for consent as well.

“are you insane man? i know you’re into all that weird shit, but her? she’d probably kill me before i even got close to the bed and throw my dead body out of my own apartment.” as nice as it sounds he didn’t know if you’d be okay with any of this. he wasn’t going to just walk straight in, right?

there’s a loud howl that comes directly from the other end of the phone. “are you really being this much of a pussy right now? i’m giving you full permission to go help my girl out, and you wanna whine about how she might kill y-”

“shut the hell up man, i didn’t say anything about being a pussy.”

“alright, then there shouldn’t be an issue with you helping her out. don’t sit up on your high horse and act like you haven’t thought about it before, i know just how those perverted thoughts of yours work, don’t you rememb-”

“okay okay shut up satoru, im going.”

pushing open the door, the first thing geto notices is your hand rubbing lightly between your soft thighs and how your wetness soaks the bed, clear evidence of how needy you were. how long have you been at it?

gojo can hear you so clearly over the phone, he might as well be in the room with you, “shit, is that her pussy i’m hearing? whats it look like?” he questions, but unfortunately for him he receives no answer.

suguru is too busy enjoying the view and listening to the pathetic little sounds coming from your cunt. his sweatpants are slowly starting to fit a little tighter than before, but he doesn’t make any movements yet, just in case you don’t wanna play this little game.

almost immediately your soft eyes flutter open and lock into his, and he swears he just came in his pants.

“sugi, please, it hurts so much,” you whine out to him, desperate for his veiny hands on you. your own hand never seems to falter though, only moving in more erratic circles around your sensitive clit; while your other hand is busy touching your nipples, trying to get the most stimulation possible.

knowing that you were just as needy for him as he was for you made the man’s confidence peak. he gives you a light smile as he walks closer to the bed, softly sitting down next to you. he leans over you a bit, close enough to where you can smell the minty, almost overpowering, scent of his shampoo. half his hair loosely tied up in a bun, the other half falling past his shoulders as he looks down at you.

“something wrong, pretty? those fingers not doing enough for you, right? don’t ‘cha wanna wait for your boyfriend to come back so he can help you out, he’s on the phone you know.”

his soft hands begin to work at your thighs, but it seems like it’ll never be any more than that. continuing for a little longer, he presses the speaker button on his phone, handing it over to you as you pull away from your core.

“can you hear me, sweetheart?” gojo asks, now finally getting some time to speak to you after being ignored for so long. “i gave sugi permission to help you out, okay? does that sound alright to you?” he utilizes the small nickname you’d given his friend, innocently coercing you to be good.

you give a small “mmm” in agreement. then, opening your legs, you grab at suguru’s hand and place it between your thighs, just barely touching your cunt.

gojo continues, smiling to himself on the other side of the device. “‘kay. i’m gonna talk you through it, just so i know you’re treating my girl right. take two of your fingers and stuff it inside of her, she’ll clench up at first but just keep working at it and she’ll open up, okay? maybe if you do good, you can have something too.”

geto lets out an annoyed breath, short, but just long enough for gojo to catch it. he knows what that means. what’s even stopping him from fucking you in first place? it’s not like gojo would know. but as he looks into your pleading eyes he realizes he’d do anything to make sure you’re content and happy.. even if that means listening to satoru’s perverted requests.

his fingers slide down to rub at your clit just a bit, before burying his pointer and ring finger deep into your cunt, you clench so tight around him, it makes him feel like he’s dreaming the way your teeth suck at your bottom lip attempting to hide your whines.

“cmon pretty, open up for me. promise i’ll make you feel good, okay?”

a throaty whimper slides from between your lips as geto’s fingers work you open. “‘s good sugi, please like that more.” you scoot down a little more, chasing his fingers to get even just a little more stimulation.

“next you’re gonna press on her clit, just a little though she’s a sensitive little thing.” gojo groans out, it’s obvious he’s taken a break from his work to focus on… other things.

“yeah yeah, i know how to use my fingers, asshole.” suguru voices, clearly annoyed. although, he still abides by the instructions and moves his thumb to press on your clit just a tiny bit. your back arches away from his fingers almost immediately, like a natural instinct, he grabs your plush hips with his other hand, pulling you back down. “nuh uh, c’mere sweet girl, you wanted my help you’re gonna get it.”

his delicate fingers curve upward into you and you feel as if you’re floating on cloud nine, the way he flicks them at just the right speed while managing to hold you down and deepen his movements. it’s all too much for him you.

the sound of gojo’s voice breaks geto out of his daze, “fuck, i gotta go suguru. i know you’ll take care of her. i’m gonna have to cut this shit short, i’ll try to come back later tonight instead of tomorrow morning. love you guys, love you baby, be good for sugi okay?” geto’s eyes immediately flicker to yours, and you see just a little bit of what you think could be fear, or excitement, in his eyes.

“bye daddy, love you too.” you whine out, hearing a quick click before the call ends.

“daddy?” he questions. “knew he was into some shit, didn’t know you were too, sweet girl. you’re too pretty and innocent, or at least you put up a good act.” his fingers slide out of you as he snickers, not ignoring the way you pout at the loss of stimuli.

“nah, not gonna leave you here all needy don’t worry mama, just gonna do it my way, that sound good to you?” geto grabs you by your hips as you choke out a small “yea”, pushing you closer to the headboard of the bed. he fully removes his hair tie and throws all of it up into a bun, swiftly grabbing your underwear and pulling it off.

you look down at him as he crawls closer to you on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your thighs and closing them around his head. you feel his fingers spread your cunt apart, licking a long stripe onto you. your body tenses up, and on instinct your hand finds its way into suguru’s hair, tugging lightly. his head perks up at you, smiling, but eventually just deciding to leave you be.

his tongue swipes over your clit, taking small breaths occasionally as he tastes your cunt. neither one of you know who this is really for at this point. he’s supposed to be ‘helping you’ but with the tent growing in his sweats he might as well be doing this for his own pleasure instead. you continue to take harsh pulls at his dark strands, so unfamiliar to you. mostly with satoru you opted for scratching at his shoulders or gripping at the sheets due to the length he kept his hair, but this, this was something you could get used to.

“sugi please, m so close, want it so bad, need you to make me cum.” you cry out, loving the way his nose rubs against your clit as he licks.

he doesn’t say anything, he can’t really, but you know he understands. he grips your thighs tighter, licking the same way as before, occasionally sucking at your clit, and before you know it you’re squirming all over his face as that familiar feeling rushes over you.

the only thing that suguru could make out of your cries were “thank you”, “so good”, and “daddy”? he wasn’t sure if you were calling him daddy or if you wanted gojo, but at this point it didn’t really matter to him. he pleased you and that’s all he needed to make him feel better.

as he lifted his head up from your pussy he could already tell how tired you were getting, he immediately grabbed you a change of clothes that gojo had packed and cleaned you up with a wet washcloth. “everything okay, mama? need anything?” your eyes strain open and you smile at the man standing above you, “i’m okay, thank you for your help. will you stay?” you could tell that he genuinely cared for you, and was worried he had done something wrong by the tone in his voice. him staying was more for him rather than yourself, not that you were complaining.

he pulled off his shirt as he crawled into bed next to you. grabbing his phone from the bedside table he saw that gojo had sent him a message.

“i’ll take care of you both when i’m back, cause i’m betting you didn’t take anything for yourself. see you both soon ;)”

suguru chuckled to himself at the message from his friend, looking down at you peacefully sleeping on his chest. maybe he could get used to something like this? but for now, he’s content.

[anystalker707]

Stop playing

Pairing: Suguru Geto x [male, amab] Reader Summary: Halloween night. Suguru has been teasing you for a while, but this is the last straw - he dressed up as your new fictional crush, König. That's personal. Tags: Bottom suguru / light choking / in the club's restroom / he thinks he's cool

Requested by @josukeslefttitty

Shibuya, October 31st

          Thankfully, everyone was as invested in their Halloween costumes as you, so you didn’t feel out of place as your friends walked down the streets, sometimes attracting curious eyes. Other people also wore costumes, attracting your attention instead. The streets of Shibuya slowly got more agitated, even if you were still in the first hours of the night of Halloween. The chilly air of autumn didn’t seem to bother anyone too much, only contributing to the more intricate costumes, if anything, though some people defied the temperature anyway.

Satoru and Ieiri had decided it would be best to go for a pre-party—which everyone agreed with—to grab drinks and snacks at a convenience store before going to the real destination. Ieiri had a hand on Yu’s shoulder as she talked about something that made him blush a little; Kento walked beside them, ignoring Yu’s attempts to push him into the conversation and Satoru’s annoying comments. You had tried to get Utahime to come along, but she had spilled a lot of things about not hanging out with kids, so…

You and Suguru walked a few steps behind them, your attention focused on Satoru’s banter until you just snapped out of it and sighed, looking around the streets that kept lightened up by the glowing billboards and signs despite the darkening sky.

“You know,” Suguru’s voice pulled you away from your thoughts, attracting your gaze to his. His brown irises stood out with the black makeup around his eyes—you wondered how he’d look with that mask on, but he’d only been carrying it along with the helmet under his arm, so far. “We need to take a picture together later. Just the two of us. You’re looking really nice.”

A smile spread across your face at Suguru’s words, at the same time a warm feeling fluttered in your chest. “Of course, yeah, that’d be fantastic.”

It was difficult to ignore how Suguru looked in those clothes. He had dressed as your new fictional heartthrob for Halloween, rocking the military aesthetic and the feral air it had. Did he see the posts you’d made about König or something? Was it intentional? Damn. It was mostly accurate, missing some gear around the torso, but it was understandable, given the mobility. The beige cargo pants were a little tight, probably borrowed from someone else, leaving a nice space for imagination whenever you observed him a little too much. The outfit fit him so well that it was hard not to pull him closer and…

“Do you think my costume looks nice? I did my best to make it as accurate as I could.” Suguru asked, looking down at himself and then back at you with those charming eyes, as if he knew something you didn’t. Fucker.

“Yeah,” you muttered with a hum, glancing down at his outfit without checking him out that much, even if he’d potentially caught you staring earlier. It was difficult to determine whether you were being discreet or not while so immersed in thoughts. “Looks pretty good, though I haven’t seen you with the mask yet.”

Suguru raised his eyebrows as the smile on his lips widened, and he hummed. “Oh, right. Satoru and Shoko were bothering me about it earlier, so I ended up taking it off and forgot to put it back on. It’s not that great, just some shirt I cut holes in and tried to make it more accurate.” He stopped walking for a little just to put on the helmet and adjust the mask, doing it quickly, in a way you didn’t need to rush a lot to catch up with the others. “So?” His brown eyes blinked a couple of times through the holes in the mask, and your heart skipped a beat just at that.

“Oh,” you muttered, trying to keep your thoughts on track, and not about how hot he’d look… “Yeah, amazing,” you said with a nod. Suguru had to be doing that on purpose, no matter how you couldn’t find the familiar air of tease in his eyes when he looked at you.

At some point, Satoru had the helmet on instead as he walked around the convenience store, but Suguru kept the mask. He stood by Shoko with his arms crossed under his chest and weight over one of his legs in a way his hip popped out a little, talking with her absentmindedly, while she looked at cigarette boxes displayed behind a glass. How did he manage to be so hot while he wasn’t even trying?

Whatever Shoko said, it resulted in Suguru chuckling as he grabbed her hand and turned her palm up, tracing something on it. You wondered how it’d feel on you instead.

It made your thoughts race again, taking another turn as you forgot about what you were doing until Satoru shoved another glass of beer into your hand.

“Heh, what’s in your mind, (y/n)? I hope it doesn’t have to do with Suguru’s thighs.” He paused as he looked toward Suguru and sighed, shaking his head as if he longed for them. Maybe he did. Motherfucker.

“Just thinking,” you quickly excused, adjusting the beer bottles and cans of energy drink in your arms. “Shoko looks good,” you averted the subject, hoping he would buy it, and thankfully, Satoru seemed to be only using one brain cell right now, as usual.

“Oh, wait, we also need some candies. I want to make a drink with sour candies,” he muttered, pulling you along to the other side of the convenience store, but your eyes lingered on Suguru, meeting his gaze for a second.

          Suguru dismissed your company on the way to the club, instead letting Satoru link arms with him while ranting about god knows what. Why did he decide to leave you? Had you become boring? Was he playing more games? A sigh escaped your lips as you shook your thoughts away.

“So…” Ieiri suddenly showed up next to you with a grin, rolling a lollipop around her mouth, one she’d grabbed from the counter at the convenience store. She read you very well. Just the way she looked at you compelled you to look away, shaking your head again; she giggled. “Yeah, there we go again.”

“Don’t say anything,” you told her with a playful pout, holding back a smile that threatened to grow even more at how she giggled again.

Shoko opened her mouth a couple of times, but whatever she pondered saying, was replaced by a simple shrug as she patted your arm lightly. Alright. Well, you had other things to focus on right now, and one of them was absolutely how Suguru’s ass looked in those tight cargos. If only you had the chance to squeeze it. Your hand ached just at the thought—just like your cock threatened to come to life.

Things only got more difficult as you arrived at the club. Despite the great number of people, the place wasn’t cramped up. It was a nice, clean club with cool Halloween decorations hanging around, selling themed drinks, as also themed songs played in the background. The smell of artificial fog lingered in the air as it rose, making the colorful lights more visible.

Kento sat with you on the same couch in a calmer area, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone or taking pictures of the others when requested. He talked to you a bit, but the conversation quickly dissipated.

Your mind couldn’t keep track of a chat while Suguru walked around like that, like a piece of meat waiting to be eaten. One that was supposed to be yours and not be touched by everyone like that. What was Suguru even trying to do? He didn’t like being touched that much, so there was no reason to keep a hand around Shoko’s waist like that or let Satoru keep resting a hand on his chest. Why couldn’t you do it, though? Only you. It made something burn in your chest, stiffening your muscles as you tried your best not to get up and do something. Hopefully, the glass of cocktail covered part of your annoyed expression.

It was, however, when you saw Suguru allow Satoru to pull his shirt up to take a look at his bare skin that you almost crushed the glass you held. Kento even glanced at you when you inhaled sharply, setting the glass down on the small table nearby before you stood up, eyes trained on the side of Suguru’s head.

Maybe you should focus on something else. You put the glass away and shook your head, trying to shake away the feeling and the thoughts as well. There was a nice song playing, so you moved over to the dance floor, squeezing past people to get on there with them—in contrast to the other areas of the club, the dance floor was crowded, full of people wanting to party the night away.

A couple of minutes passed by when you noticed the familiar costume, and your eyes widened a little noticing, Suguru there also dancing with you—no helmet again, which led you to presume Satoru had stolen it once more. It was okay, at first, but then he started pressing close, glued to you until his ass was practically grinding against your crotch. You gently pushed him away, but he stepped back again. Fucking hell…

“Suguru?” You talked into his ear, loud enough for him to hear over the loud music. “What are you—”

“It’s too cramped here,” he replied immediately, naturally, “what else am I supposed to do while it’s this crowded?”

What was he supposed to do? What were you supposed to do while he tortured you all night long? Fuck it.

Your hand wrapped around Suguru’s wrist to drag him with you without caring who was in the way.

You walked into the restroom with Suguru right behind you, the music becoming muffled as you walked into the space. It was well-kept, really, with no strong smells, black walls, and red-tinted LEDs above the mirror that stretched itself along the wall, over the silver taps on the black marble counter, and the doors to the stalls were also black. Only one person was in there, already leaving after washing their hands. Suguru stepped aside and watched them leave, about to say something when you closed the door and locked it.

Suguru’s eyes widened a little through the holes of the mask, and you imagined if he already presumed what would happen. Either way, he didn’t have time to speak anything—you pinned him to the counter first, a hand by each side of his hips as you looked at him in the eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice didn’t carry the same light tone from before, now with a tone that matched your serious look.

Suguru didn’t know where to put his hands, letting them hand in the air before they slowly settled down on the edge of the counter as well, beside yours. His breath was caught in his throat as his wide eyes watched you, blinking a couple of times as if it would help him think properly, but it didn’t do much. He gulped and was thankful he had his face covered. “What do you—”

“Come on, don’t play dumb,” you exhaled, placing a hand on Suguru’s chest, right in the middle, almost feeling his racing heart under your palm. Your fingers ran up and settled under his chin through the mask, keeping his gaze on you. “You know exactly what you are doing, and I can’t take it anymore.”

You wanted to kiss Suguru on the lips, but the mask was in the way, and he looked so hot wearing it… It could stay on for now.

“If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.” Your eyes held Suguru’s gaze to prove the seriousness of your words, before your hands sneaked under his shirt to hold his waist, rubbing soft circles into his warm skin.

It almost felt unreal to finally be touching Suguru like that, with something buzzing under your skin as you tried to figure out what to do with him now that you had the opportunity. The list was long, that was the problem. It went from just playing with his nipples to pulling his hair back to watch the face he would make when your cock still bullied his prostate after an orgasm. What were you supposed to choose? If only you had all the time and privacy you wanted…

You pressed your lips together to contain the will to kiss Suguru, making him face the other way and looking at him through the mirror instead. Tension laced Suguru’s actions as well, but it was similar to the one you felt, with blood hammering in your ears while the arousal rushed through your veins and spread a warm feeling in your lower stomach. A bulge was visible in Suguru’s pants, struggling in the tight fabric of the beige cargos.

“Fuck, you must be sadistic or something, with the way you kept doing that…” You exhaled, hands returning to the marble edge by each of Suguru’s hips. Your eyes fell to Suguru’s hands, observing them curled into fists as their heels pressed to the marble, growing tenser when your hips pressed to his ass.

Suguru’s breath faltered a little, eventually growing heavier as you started grinding your erection against his ass. The silence that came from him gave you doubts that were quickly dismissed when he adjusted his position and moved his hips in sync, eventually snatching a moan from you as your cock got completely hard. Just the dry humping felt so good when it wasn’t with something like a pillow or someone you actually desired.

Eventually, though, Suguru cracked a breathy chuckle—it was hard to identify it without a full view of his face, but you could imagine a smirk tugging on his lips. “Please,” Suguru moaned, and his eyes were closed when you looked at him in the mirror, even if it was a little difficult to tell that. Hearing him ask for more made your skin rise in shivers as a wave of excitement ran down your spine, irises turning into thin rings around your blown pupils. He leaned forward until his elbows met the marble, pressing his ass back against your crotch with it.

“Oh, now you’re talking,” you muttered, much to his amusement, hooking your thumbs around his waistband to trail along it until both your hands met the buckle of the belt and started to undo it, and then the buttons, making it possible to lower his pants to about the middle of his thighs. Your tented-up pants pressed to his bare ass, and it was such a sight, compelling your cock to twitch in demand for attention.

You fished the packet of lube and the condom from your pocket before also lowering your pants and underwear, letting your cock rest heavily against his ass. Damn, you wished you could take a picture of it right now. Suguru even arched his back a little more, pressing himself back against your cock.

Suguru’s eyes observed you through the mirror, with anticipation and a shared need. His eyes narrowed lightly when you raised your eyebrows, sighing as you unpacked the condom and rolled it in before squeezing the lube over your cock, letting some drip on Suguru’s hole. Your thumb pressed to his hole, feeling it flutter under your touch until the ring of muscles gave in under your touch, and you could slip your finger in.

Not a lot of resistance greeted your thumb as it slowly dived deeper into Suguru’s walls, spreading the lube nicely. He groaned a little, walls clenching around your finger; his hips threatened to move, but you held him still with a hand around his waist.

“Feel good?” You tried to snatch more words from him, to get more of the feeling that stirred in your lower stomach with that attitude of his. “Come on, Suguru, I want you to tell me more about what you want.”

Once again, Suguru looked at you through the mirror. A weak sound escaped his throat when your finger pushed in deeper, slowly starting to thrust in and out of him. “I want you, idiot,” he breathed with a whimper, clenching around your finger. You limited yourself to smirking to prevent a chuckle. His voice was quiet, almost unintelligible under the muffled, beating song that came from outside, making you wish you’d find another opportunity to have him like that just to appreciate his sounds properly. “I— Damn it, fuck me already,” he breathed sharply and let his head hang in defeat, drawing a chuckle from you. Alright, alright.

“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” you said with a pleased sigh, with a new boost of arousal.

Your hand held the base of your cock, guiding it to Suguru’s entrance and pushing just the tip in at first, testing the waters. Suguru groaned, back arching as he pushed his hips back, so you continued. “Fuck,” you breathed, taking a deep breath to get through the sensation of his walls slowly accommodating around your cock. One of his hands reached back, holding on firmly to the forearm of the hand you’d pressed to his waist.

“Fucking finally,” Suguru said with a whiny moan, relaxing more over the counter. Of course, he’d let you do all the job.

The sensation of finally being inside Suguru like you’d daydreamed about so many times before was intoxicating, in a way that you needed to take a few deep breaths while thrusting in and out of him, slowly, watching your cock disappear in his ass a couple of times before looking at him through the mirror again. He looked so hot with that mask on, really.

A quiet curse fell incoherent under a moan as you settled down for a steady pace, slowly filling the room with the sound of skin slapping against skin. He felt so good around you, clenching around your cock so deliciously.

“How long have you been playing this game?” You breathed to Suguru, hooking an arm around his torso to press a hand to his chest, with his collarbones right under your index finger and thumb. A little pressure there was enough to have him leaning up enough for your head to be right next to his while you still thrust into him with the same intensity. “I almost believed I was making things up until you gave me no choice,” you said through a groan, tightening your grip around his waist, and letting your fingers sink into the soft skin.

Suguru gasped, a higher-pitched moan spilling from his lips as he arched his back, squeezing your forearm in some sort of response. “You’re just too slow, mmph— Fuckin’ took you forever.” His other hand pressed to the surface of the marble to help support himself up, even more so after your thrusts started getting faster. “It was s—so fun watching your desperate face whenever I did something, so st—stupid— Ahhh—” Suguru interrupted himself with a moan when you started thrusting sharply, moving your hand from his waist to grasp the base of his cock tightly. He hissed, holding on to the edge of the counter instead.

“Fuck off, I’m still gonna make you regret that,” you groaned. Your hand slipped under the mask, taking firm hold of Suguru’s neck; his skin was warm and sweaty, and his throat moved against your palm as he swallowed thickly. “I should’ve done this before,” you groaned, squeezing Suguru’s neck before he could make any funny comment again. ���Did you think it was funny to dress up as my game crush and go around with those tight pants, letting everyone feel you up? Are you that desperate? Fucking shameful.”

“Well,” Suguru breathed, and you imagined he was smirking again. Motherfucker. “Maybe if you weren’t so slow… Nngh…” His back arched, cock twitching on your palm.

Was he making those remarks on purpose? Did he make them just for the way you responded? Damn it. Your hand tightened around his neck—not enough to cut off his air—, and you fucked him hard enough for his body to start rocking every time your hips met his ass.

The thought of Suguru teasing you all this time just to play clueless when you approached the subject, looking at you with that mischievous gaze… Your cock twitched, balls tightening as you could feel your orgasm in the distance, so you invested in fucking Suguru in that angle that made his ass milk your cock so deliciously, making him bend down forward a little more.

Suguru’s arms were trembling from holding himself up like that, but he knew better than to give up to the weakness that slowly crept up his muscles, fighting against it as he focused on the pleasure you made him feel. He could barely contain his moans, and the fact you were at a club vanished in the back of your mind.

“There’s still so much stuff I wanna do to you,” you breathed, observing Suguru’s eyes rolling back through the mirror.

Whatever he said in response fell incoherent through moans that only grew breathier and longer as you ran your hand up and down his cock slowly, and it was all it took for him to finally cum. His ass squeezed around your cock, driving you to the edge at the same time; shivers ran up your thighs before your balls tightened, and you finally came, thrusts stuttering as you rode through your orgasm.

A soft, last cry of pleasure escaped Suguru’s lips before your movements finally ceased. The tiredness became more evident after the urgency wore out, with blood hammering in your ears while your chest heaved up and down with your pants, but it didn’t stop you from lifting Suguru’s mask and pulling him for a kiss. The position wasn’t the best, all awkward and difficult, but both of you needed that kiss to the same extreme levels, groaning into each other’s mouth while trying your best to take as much as you could from the kiss, including tongues and teeth here and there.

“This is security,” the sudden voice cut sharply through the whole mood, making both of you freeze as a heavy banging came from the door. “Is anyone in there?”

✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☽⋆⁺₊✧

[thebearer]

no but i love your writing! ever since i watched s1 and 2 last weekend because of a youtube ad, i peaked in the carmy tag and was a surprised to see the amount of stories carmy had! would love a scenario where he’s married to a sassy, take no shit type of reader sim to natalie. his wife legit could work with him for all i care. but for whatever reason he does something w/o checking in— he prolly just forgot. she finds out and confronts him hella pissed (could be at family or during restaurant prep idc) and she says “oh, if carmen said it was cool.” not even carmy the full government name bro 😭. p much how natalie articulated it 🤣. can’t remember the ep but in early season 1 when marcus blew the fuse you can also include slick commentary from richie (and fak) if you’d like! tysm in advance 🥰. also if you don’t me me asking, do you have name/alias on this blog? what we can call you? enjoy your week

- 🥣

yes yes yes ahhhhh! he definitely needs someone who keeps him in line but walks that fine line where he can also keep them in line (bc dom!carmy is living in my heart rent free forever lol). also you can call me e if you'd like :) thank you for your sweet words! i hope you have a good week, and hope you enjoy this!

"What's this?" You ask Sydney, looking at the new box being unloaded from the truck- big and bulky in a crate, far too large to be a produce shipment.

"Uh, I think it's the new glassware for the bar." Sydney looked at her clipboard, back at you carefully.

"Glassware? What new glassware. We haven't picked that out yet." You frowned, looking at the crate carefully.

"Oh, well, it was in Carmen's notes for the day, so... I think that's the only shipment we have. Unless the hostess stand came early, which would be amazing, but you-" Sydney stopped her ramblings, seeing your soured expression. "You know what? Never mind, uh, ignore me. I'm just...Carmen's with Sugar and Richie in the back if you want to ask him."

"Thanks, Syd." You muttered, ripping the bell open with a shrill before bounding towards the back. You could hear them before you saw them, a familiar chorus of chatter and rising voices.

"Hey, so what's the delivery out front?" You ask, not bothering to wait for them to acknowledge you. If you did, you'd never talk, they all talked over each other.

"The new glasses for the bars." Sugar turned, smiling softly at you. "How are you doing?"

"Good." You muttered, eyes cutting to Carmen. "We haven't ordered new glasses yet."

"Uh, well, I thought you liked the ones from last week, angel." Carmen's eyes were bulged, clearly flustered.

"I said I liked them for basics, but I needed you to confirm a drink menu." You glared at him, arms crossing over his chest.

"You can't put the drinks in that?" Carmen asked, hand flying out towards the hall.

"Not if you want the specialty, no." You huffed. "Carmen, I told you to wait just a few days and we could get them at the wholesale market. The textured ones for the signature at least."

"Uh-oh," Richie muttered, snickering to Fak.

"Can you not use the glasses I got?" Carmen sighed.

"I can, but did you get enough? And did we decide if the signature is going in a whiskey glass or a cylinder one? Did you order double of those?" You lifted a brow, taking a step towards him. Richie and Nat watched, heads turning from you and Carmen like a tennis match.

Carmen paused, running a hand down his face. "N-No, but-"

"-So what are you going to do when we open and you run out of drinks, huh? When everyone orders the signature and it comes in different glasses? You think those travel groupie influencers won't notice? Won't post about it and make it a big fucking deal?" You countered.

"Then we'll figure it out!" Carmen huffed. "Look I gave the order to Richie, and-"

"-Hey, no fuckin' way cousin. You gave me your order." Richie held his hand up. "Sweetheart, Carmy said it was good so I just placed the order."

"Well, if Carmen said it was good, then it must be, right? He's the fucking boss." You snarl, glaring at Carmen furiously. "Seems like you've got it under control, Carm, so I'll leave it to you." You turn on your heel, furiously stomping away.

Richie and Fak wait until they hear the slam of the office door, to release their cackles. "Oooh! Cousin, you are in the fuckin' dog house now." Richie laughed, Fak's chorus of barks emphasizing his statement.

"Shut up, ok? Just shut the fuck up." Carmen growled, running a hand through his hair.

"Carmy, why wouldn't you ask her before you ordered? She's your mixologist." Nat sighed, shoulders heavy with disappointment.

"Also your girlfriend." Sydney added, poking her head in. "I told you to wait. Just saying."

"Thank you, alright, thank you all for your fuckin' helpful words." Carmen snapped. "Just... Nat, make sure they get all that shit set up right, ok? Make sure the dishwasher fucking works before we're open, please."

The office door was shut, and Carmen hesitated, reaching for the knob anxiously. He wasn't sure if he should knock- I mean, fuck, this is his office but... you were already so mad at him. Knuckles rapping on the door, he didn't wait for the invite in- knowing he'd never get one.

Carmen found you, sniffling in a furious pout in the corner, body angled away from the door. "Baby-" Carmen started with a sigh, shoulders falling gently at your upset state.

"-Don't." You snap, wiping your eyes. "Don't even start with me, Carmen." The way you say his full name sounds so bitter, too formal and full of malice to be from you.

"I-I'm sorry. I thought we agreed on it, and-and Richie was pressuring me and... And you're right. I shouldn't have made that decision without you, and I'm sorry." Carmen said slowly, waiting for your gaze to meet his, angry, wet, waterline.

"Yeah, you shouldn't have." You agreed bitterly, wiping your eyes. "I get this is your restaurant, Carmen, but don't ask for my help if you're just gonna do what you want anyways. That's-That's not nice."

"I know." Carmen nodded slowly, approaching you with the caution he would a wild animal. "I want your help. I do, and-and I like your idea that the house drink goes in the special glass. Makes it stand out."

You lifted your gaze up to his. "Yeah?" You asked, he nodded, sitting next to you. "Did you blow your budget?"

"No," Carmen shook his head, not a total lie. Fak had been able pull some strings with the new stoves, turns out he did have a guy. It left a little over five thousand left over.

"We could go to that place, if you want to. Go look and see if they have the glasses. Get a rough estimate of about how many we'd need." Carmen offered, his hand cupping your thigh gently, thumb rubbing over your leg in soothing circles.

"As long as Sydney or Nat does the numbers and not you." You snorted lightly, rolling your eyes at him.

He laughed, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I'll get Sugar to run 'em, alright? Then we can go. Call it an early night."

You beamed at the idea, letting him slide in next to you, melting into your side. "That sounds good." You hummed, letting your head fall on his shoulder.

"I-I'm real sorry I didn't as you ." Carmen muttered. "That was shitty."

"Yeah." You sighed in agreement. "I just... I want to be included in things." You asked, looking up at him sweetly. "Not everything, but-but at least the things that apply to my area."

"I know." Carmen nodded, his hand catching your cheek softly. "I'll let you handle it next time, alright? I trust your opinion."

"You don't have to do that-"

"-No, you're right, I don't. But-But I want to." Carmen nodded. "I know you're lookin' out for the best in this place just like I am."

[daydream-believin]

Like A Boiled Frog (You Don't Even Scream) [ch 1]

[Next Chapter]

notes: might proofread this before i post this to ao3 but here have the raw milk version (pasteurization is for losers amaright)

series summary: every time you think things cant get any more batshit, hurricane throws another pile of guano at you. every time you think the hole cant get any deeper, you fall further. and you’re not sure what frightens you more: the town itself, or your increasing reluctance to leave.

or: au where mike has that pizza shop for wayyy more than a week and you find yourself a horror protagonist. or at least one’s love interest.

chapter summary: get haunted bitch. now go drive to utah in a manic episode. go meet a nice walking corpse, maybe it'll fix you. or make you worse. probably that second thing lmao

word count: 7985, oh dear (thats with me cutting out some stuff lol)

warnings: uh, swearing, manic behavior, self-harmful thoughts/behavior, mention of hallucinations/hearing voices, shit this is sounding bad, i mean its canon typical violence so idk man no lifeguard on duty

You know how in Source Decay, John Darnielle says / I wish the west Texas highway was a mobius strip / I could ride it out forever / when I feel my heart break? / Well, that guy’s a bitchass snake oil salesman for romanticizing this. Fuck that guy.

Although, this is the first time you’ve ever been able to set a cruise control and actually just leave it at that. What with there being no other cars on the road out here at this hour for you to run into. You even forgot about it at one point.

Little puffs of fire danced in your peripheral vision, like fairies flitting about. It was easy to spot them out in the night air, all those pumpjacks that littered the desert. There was nothing but these small fires, with the tiny, dotted additions of the glowing red eyes of windmills to light up the way for miles.

And you tried not to think about how if you broke down, no one would be around to find you. Every now and then you would startle at the shadowy specter of a tumbleweed crossing your path, but you were acutely aware of just how alone you were out here.

On that train of thought, your gaze fell to the passenger side, to the little bear toy you had buckled into a seatbelt like it was a person.

“Can you believe this, Fredbear?” you asked the inanimate object.

Fredbear did not answer, of course. Would be insane if he did, right?

Hmm …Why did part of you expect him to.

***

The august sun was beating down hot on your back as you walked home that day. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was only last week.

The neighborhood was as full of life as it always was. The kids running around in a game of tag, the teens playing basketball, and the adults walking their dogs. You could hear some faint music playing in the distance, most likely from the stage setup in the square downtown, not too far away.

There were many yard sales set up, it being the thing to do on a sunny Saturday afternoon like this. Despite your very strong instincts to rummage through all the boxes in these sales like a raccoon looking for dinner in a dumpster, you were broke, with no money to spare for impulse purchases on random junk. And thus, being a mature adult, you walked right past them.

That is, until a yard full of children’s toys caught your eye. One of your cousins’ kids was turning 6 in a few weeks. Might as well buy presents now before you forget again and have to rush to the store in a panic 8 minutes after the party had already started, sweat rolling down your back as you search the toy isle for something the birthday boy would like, while your phone keeps buzzing in your pocket nonstop because both your cousin is texting and your aunt is calling to ask where you’re at because you were the one who was supposed to be picking up the pizza.

 I mean, just a hypothetical scenario here.

You didn’t really find anything good as you dug through the bins of miscellaneous action figures and toy cars. As you could recall, the kid really liked Iron Man right now. And sharks. Alas, you found no Iron Mans or sharks in those bins.

The other table’s baskets were full of stuffed animals. You could maybe get lucky and find a stuffed shark in there. But stuffed animals are notorious for being hard to clean; and yard sale plushies sometimes come with more than just one new friend. You weren’t about to be the reason your cousin had to fumigate her house for bedbugs. Again. So, you decided to close this case for now and skedaddle on out of there.

You took another look back at the table as you walked away.

Well.. The toys you could see at the top of the bins did look like they were well taken care of… It couldn’t hurt to just look, right?

Yeah no. You found no sharks unfortunately. What you did find, however, was this funky little teddy bear wearing a top hat and bowtie.

A real character, that one. The bright gold fabric of its body made it stand out amongst the other toys. The smile stitched onto the bear gave it a weird, smug look. And you hadn’t seen a plushy with eyebrows before.

That being said, this thing’s aura was so... unsettling. You stared into its black eyes, that seemed to stare right back at you, with a strange feeling twisting in the pit of your stomach.

“You like that one, do ya?”

You almost jumped out of your skin when the old man running the sale spoke to you. You had Not heard him come up beside you like that. Creepy.

“Yeah, it’s…” you tried to think of a positive word, “very intriguing. Looks like it’s ready for a party.”

“My granddaughter called him Fredbear. Found him over in Utah, many years back. In a yard sale, just like this one,” he gently took the bear from you, and looked down at it wistfully, “My granddaughter..  liked how smartly dressed he was. A perfect guest for her tea parties. You were right about that…”

The old man stared at the doll for a little longer after the conversation faded. You felt extremely awkward now. Perhaps you really should have just left without unearthing this obvious sentimental piece.

“My grandchildren are no longer here with me,” you felt a little uncomfortable with how he phrased that, “so, I’ll tell you what. Promise me you’ll take care of him, and he’s yours. Free of charge.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’d be happy to pay for him, really,” you felt bad taking free stuff from the elderly.

“No,” he said with a tone of finality, placing the bear firmly into your hands, “the day’s almost over. I’d like to help this old friend move on. It’s time.”

Well that somehow was both sweet and foreboding at the same time.

So, you thanked the old man and started back on your walk home, Fredbear cradled in your arms. He waved goodbye to you. The grandfather, of course, not the teddy bear.

You probably aren’t going to wind up giving this one to your cousin’s son. There was something about it that told you not to. Maybe it was the way the old man talked about it. You felt compelled to take care of the plush yourself. Kind of like an honor thing. Or a pity thing.

It smelled a little funky. But that’s nothing a little TLC couldn’t handle. And some dish soap.

Maybe you were just. Feeling a bit childish lately. Too small and easily broken. Moved to tears by little things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Disregarded and treated like your fears weren’t real.

Deeply afraid.

Yeah, you’d give Fredbear a nice soak in the sink with a fun dish soap bubble bath. And maybe after that, you’ll both feel a little better.

You were alone in your apartment that night, as your roommate was always gone these days. And when you made your tea, you brought Fredbear a mug as well. A little tea party, for old time’s sake.

Looking back, maybe that was your first mistake.

***

Static rolled from your radio. You gave up on fiddling with it hours ago, but you’ve got nothing better to occupy your mind now.

You turned the knob absentmindedly, never really expecting to get anywhere. Or any signal, that is. A muffled country song here, the broken-up voice of a DJ there, nothing strong enough to stay for more than a few seconds. However, a few seconds of a clear transmission was all you really needed when you rolled past a certain signal.

“zZz-Hurricane—“

Now that was a word that got your attention. Not that you were anywhere near the coast at the moment. You know, unless the person reading this is looking to buy some oceanside property in Arizona. In that case feel free to slide into my DMs.

“zZZ-Peach Days! -Zz celebratio— zzZ-year—peaches peach—-ZzzZ-Heritage-zZ,” you let your gaze flicker downward, towards the dimly lit red text of the frequency number display as if that would provide some more insight.

And then suddenly, the fuzz was completely gone, as if you were near the tower itself,

“So Hurry On To Hurricane City!” the spokesman encouraged cheerfully. You could practically here the giant pageant smile in his voice as he delivered his slogan. This man was your friend, obviously. Then, however, his tone shifted as he closed the ad copy, “Because you know the party can’t start without you…”

You held your breath as the silence dragged out a few agonizing seconds, until “ZZZZZZZZ!!!”, in a jolt, the transmission went completely out. Explosively. You even flinched.

You stayed on the station for a good twenty minutes after that, waiting to see if you could hear anything again. You could feel your heart pound against your ribs until the terrifying feeling faded. There was nothing else but static, of course, and for so long you almost thought you must have imagined it. If not for the way those dull words repeated in your head, over and over.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

You hadn’t really had a destination in mind when you took off. No goal other than to get out of there as fast as you could manage. The idea of the West had been bouncing around your brain a lot lately, hence your current trajectory, but you really hadn’t had a clue where you were supposed to be going when you left.

I mean, you still didn’t have a destination. You had no clue what that advertisement was even about. Where they were even fucking talking about. Hurricane City?

Yet, somehow, you knew those words were meant for you. Not anyone else. you. There was a party and the party was waiting for you.

Guess you’d have to look for a map or something in town. Perhaps use the library computer. Man, you would regret throwing your phone into the lake in a fit of passion as you left town, but honestly, this is the longest you’ve known peace in quite some time. Just gonna have to live a little retro for a while. Not the worst thing in the world.

You’ll get a new one later, once you’ve settled in to… wherever you’re going. Whatever new home lies over that horizon for you, you guess.

The sun was breaching the beige skyline of sandy shrub brush as you finally rolled over the state line. You needed to eat. Your stomach growled loudly at just the thought. Funny. You hadn’t even thought about eating in the last.. twenty hours. Which means you should be absolutely shaking right now. Yeah, that’s why you’re shaking. That’s it. You’ll pull into the first diner you see.

You were hoping to at least be in Roswell for breakfast, but there was no way your body was going to be able to keep running if you waited that long. Looks like it’s just going to be the first place you come across.

Hopefully they don’t put green chilis in their pancakes or something.

That sounds insane but it’s an actual thing you’ve seen before in this state, trust. There are no laws nor gods when it comes to Hatch green chilis.

***

Your sleepy brain was not ready for the bell that rang as you walked through the door. Embarrassingly enough, the tinny noise startled you. You almost tripped, to be honest. Thankfully your wobbly Bambi legs held up as you managed to catch yourself.

The hostess wasn’t in sight as you awkwardly stood in the entrance, but there was a whole heap of noise coming from the kitchen.

“Hold on just a second, Sweetpea!” a voice called out to you.

Well, guess you’re holding on a second.

Your eyes scanned the top of the walls, perusing the vast cookie jar collection that the owner had accrued over the years. They were never dusted, despite being on shelves that lined the top of every wall in the tiny shack of a diner, and thus you could easily tell that a few new additions had been made. You know, because those cookie jars were way less filthy.

That’s gotta be a heath-code violation.

After you heard a bit of garbled yelling, the hostess rushed out to take her place in front of you. Smoothing down her polka-dotted apron, she grinned at you.

“Table for two?”

You blinked. It was too early in the morning for fully intelligent speech.

“Uh. No. Just me today. Thank you.”

Her big, bedazzled cat-eyeglasses fell a little farther down her nose as she scrunched her face in confusion, “alright then. Just the one of you today...”

She grabbed a paper menu as she led your shambling body to a table near the window. Which was shut away with ancient looking vinyl blinds that you were too afraid to open, lest they crumble and the cost of replacing them be put on your on tab.

She had already disappeared back into the kitchen by the time you got yourself in a seat. You glanced around the room. You weren’t the only patron here, as a few tables held a few bodies, but you were the only one without your face buried in a newspaper. And to be expected honestly, you were the youngest person in the room at seven in the morning.

The hostess, who was also the only waitress in this tiny local business, placed two glasses in front of you. The dull sound they made hitting the table drew you out of your revelry. There before you were two cups, a steaming mug of fresh coffee and a short glass of milk. You looked up in confusion.

“Don’t worry, it’s whole milk. Builds strong bones.”

That... wasn’t your concern.

You looked back at the cup in confusion and by the time you turned back, she had already moved on to the next table, refilling mugs and having loud banter with the other customers. Her regulars, by the sound of it. You felt too apathetic to try and call her over again.

You shrugged, to no one in particular, as you did not have a breakfast partner with you, despite the waitress’s insistence otherwise. Wait, was she mocking you? Eh, maybe it’s just supposed to be for the coffee. Nevertheless, you would not be drinking the milk, so you just left it there.

Despite the prevalence of the local newspaper in the room, there wasn’t a dispenser or anything at the front of the restaurant, like there usually is. As you drummed your fingers on the tablecloth, bored out of your mind, you kinda regretted throwing your phone in the lake a bit more. Maybe not the best of moves.

But hey, at least you aren’t constantly quelling the incessant buzzing you’d be hearing if you’d kept it.

You busied yourself stirring your coffee while you looked over the menu again, just for something to read. Of course, you were ordering a waffle. Because this was a diner, and, yeah, you do like waffles. And pancakes. And French toast. Doodoodoodoo can’t wait to get a mouthful.

That voice kept echoing in your mind. The party can’t start without you.

“More coffee, Babycakes?” the waitress snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Oh! Yeah, thank you,” you moved the mug to the edge of the table, closer to her, “Say… I know this is an out-of-pocket question, but have you heard anything about Hurricane City? Maybe something about peaches?”

“Oh!” she snapped her fingers, “You mean the Peach Days. It’s a little heritage festival they put on every summer in Hurricane, you know. It’s a hoot, my family makes a trip out there every few years or so for it. Not this time of course, clearly, since I’m here talkin’ to you and not in Utah—”

“In Utah?”

Of course, it was Fucking Utah again.

“I know it’s soundin’ far, but it’s only ‘bout a day’s drive from here. Two days if y’ain’t crazy about following an itinerary like my husband,” she brushed a hand over her apron before you lost her attention to the other customers, “I swear that man would plan out a schedule for every second of the day if he could…”

After she wandered off to go top off more mugs, you lamented the fact that you still hadn’t ordered yet. That’s what you get for being nosy about peach festivals, you suppose.

Thankfully though, soon enough you had your hearty breakfast and were back in front of the wheel, on your way to the friendly neighborhood Walmart. Where hopefully no cops or employees would bother you as you crashed in the parking lot.

You took Fredbear to the backseat with you for good luck. Maybe it was the gold color, or the fancy getup he had. Maybe you just needed a cuddle buddy to not feel so alone in this parking lot swarming with people.

Much to your disdain, it was now a bit into the morning hours, and the sun was fully up.

You had tried to find as shady a spot as possible, but it’s not exactly like trees grow in this biome. At least not naturally. Windbreak tree lines were definitely a thing, but those protected buildings people cared about, and this was a Walmart. Nothing around here but concrete, rocks spray painted blue, and cigarette butts.

So after tossing and turning in the bright blinding sunshine for way longer than you should have, and making promises to higher deities was proven to be unfruitful in your attempt to find some semblance of peace, you finally just had to admit defeat. And here by rescinding any aforementioned promises to higher powers.

You laid Fredbear back down on the seat and tucked him in with the blanket when you got back up. At least one of you could be cozy and well rested. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be you, however.

Well, it’s far from the first all-nighter you’ve pulled without having time to take a nap during the following day. Sleep deprivation isn’t real, silly. Teachers just made that up to scare you. It’ll be fine.

***

You know you never really realize how much we structure our lives around other humans until you take a drive through the middle of nowhere. How essential it is to have enough gas to make it to the next town. From town to town, your life becomes segments. Only within the eyesight of other humans are you ever safe. Only within the bounds of the settlement can your soul be settled.

Gas stations become oases. Which is the plural of oasis, apparently. Anyway, you start seeing them like mirages. Dingey, weather-worn gas pumps become as good as a sparkling illusion of precious water in the Sahara. The empty shells of buildings you passed by, long since forgotten, became like mausoleums in these graveyard towns. Villages. Hamlets. Mostly hamlets.

“Are we there yet?” a small and very annoyed voice called out.

You had just written it off as your imagination until you heard the noise of shuffling fabric. Normally your audio hallucinations aren’t that detailed. Paralyzed, you held your breath, not daring to make any noise that would distract your ears from hearing whoever, whatever, was in the back seat. Your mind went to stories of skinwalkers and misshapen monsters and hitch-hiking serial killers.

“… Are we there yet?” the voice repeated, admittedly sounding even smaller to you now.

Yep, that’s a real person alright. Or a real thing. Your eyes were probably bloodshot from the way you haven’t blinked this entire time, just staring straight ahead on the desert highway. Taking a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself, you turned down the rear-view mirror…

Christ almighty. You had a stowaway.

Your stomach turned immediately. God, come on now, don’t puke up what little you had on your stomach. You need that.

“Hey Buddy,” you tried to sound as friendly as you could, “What’s your name?”

Clad in a little striped shirt and cargo shorts, he started kicking his feet in impatience, which would be cute if it weren’t for this situation y’all are in, and the adrenaline pumping through your veins, “We’ve been in here forever,” he whined.

If this was a skinwalker, he was a pretty darn adorable one. And definitely not a hitch-hiking serial killer. At least you hoped. But no, this was a greater form of terror: responsibility.

“Haha, yeah, we have been in here really long, haven’t we? How long do you think we’ve been driving, can you tell me?”

When did you pick up this child. When you got gas in Gallup? Albuquerque? Dear lord, if he’s been in here since Roswell, you’re about to have the world’s biggest headache on your hands, both metaphorically and physically. But there’s no way he’s been in here for fucking 10 hours, right? right??

Okay, okay. Maybe you’re just a little panicky right now and not thinking straight. Maybe teachers hadn’t been making up sleep deprivation just to scare you after all. You have been purposely not drinking anything for the lack of available restrooms. People get dehydration hallucinations, right?

The boy just stared at you, blankly. Probably fully realizing you were a stranger and not whoever he thought you were. In lieu of answering you, he started fidgeting more with the toy bear you had had in the back. You really hoped that hadn’t been what lured him into your station wagon in the first place.

Don’t be getting shy on me now, kid.

You put your blinker on, ready to merge off the road and onto an incoming rest-stop that you thanked your lucky stars for.

“Honey, can you tell me what your phone number is?”

He looked up at you, finally tearing his attention from the bear, and you could see gears turning in his head.

“…435-555-1987?”

You repeated it back to him, and he nodded. Alright, time to find that payphone.

Said rest-stop payphone was thankfully near a picnic table so you could sit him down and be able to watch him carefully the whole time you made this call. Because judging by the fact this situation was happening at all, he was a slippery one.

You got out of the car and opened the back door, but he was hesitant to get out. Which, fair, you are a stranger trying to get him to a second location.

“What’s up, Bud?” you tried your hardest to not sound like a predator but boy was that a real nebulous idea, wasn’t it?

“Fredbear wants to come too,” he mutters.

“Well, sure then, let’s bring him, we’ll have a little picnic.” With no food, but hey, whatever lie it takes to get him sitting on that bench.

It was really cute the way the kid set the bear down on the table and positioned it like they were going to have a picnic together. When you find this kid’s parents, you’ll let him keep Fredbear. Toys like it when they’re given to new children, right? Wasn’t there a movie about that or something. Wincing at the grubbiness of the payphone, you reluctantly dialed the number.

“Hello, Jeff’s Pizza on Main St, are you ready to order?”

You closed your eyes, counting the seconds as you breathed in for 4 seconds, held it for 7, and released for 8.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted into the receiver. So much for calming down, “please don’t hang up,” you pleaded.

“Listen, we don’t take solicitation,”

“No, uh, sorry. I’ve found a lost child who told me this was his number. Is the owner of this restaurant by chance frantically looking for their son?”

You heard some muffled conversation happening behind the phone, “Well, no, I don’t even have any kids… and I uh, am currently understaffed. Im the only one here.”

you cursed under your breath.

“Uh, alright, well…” you could tell this was getting really awkward for him.

“Could you tell me where y’all are, I’m unfamiliar with the area code,”

“Uh, Hurricane, Utah?”

… If you weren’t on the phone, you fucking swear you’d be screeching at the top of your lungs like a chimpanzee right now.

“Thank you, you know, just in case he’s just remembering an advertisement he’s seen or something,”

“Oh, okay,” there was a pause, “well I hope you find the parents or, whoever,”

“Thank you,” you’ll put him out of his misery and hang up.

“Are you sure that’s your number, Hon?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Why don’t you tell me it again, maybe I dialed it wrong,”

“435-5--” his face scrunched up in concentration, “435-555—I don’t know…”

You tried not to look visibly stressed at this answer.

“Do you know where you live?”

He moved the bears paws along with whatever little game he was playing, before looking up at you, head tilted in confusion, “Hurricane?”

Okay. Police time. If not for him, for you. The skinwalker possibility just went back up. Because, honestly, he had to have gotten in your car as a coyote or something. No way you wouldn’t’ve noticed a whole ass child entering your car.

“How does ice cream sound, huh Buddy?”

“I want ice cream!” he said hastily as if you’d change your mind if he hesitated.

“Ice cream it is then, but only if you’re good for me and the officers, okay? And tell them everything you can remember. You’re smart, right?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Great,” you smiled over clenched teeth.

After herding him back into the car, you had to take a moment to gently rest your head into the steering wheel. And it took everything within you to not smash said head into it. Or scream in agony. No, no, we mustn’t scare the child.

Tuba City wasn’t too far away. The police station was downtown, as most are. Luckily, across the street there was a paleteria with a courtyard area. The little guy got very excited when you got pulled into the parking space, so eh, what the hell, ice cream first. Maybe after a treat and some playtime in the courtyard he won’t be as wiggly and will be able to tell the cops what he knows about just where the hell he came from.

The noise of the bell chiming made you flinch as you two walked into the paleteria. You hadn’t thought you were that tightly wound right now but apparently you were wrong. The lady behind the counter greeted you warmly, and you responded in turn, trying to play it cool.

God, imagine if she got an off-vibe from you and the kid and called over the police from across the street before you even have a chance—

Deep breath. Okay. The kid you had started referring to in your head as just “Little Boy” was leaned against the display case, his breath fogging up the glass in front of him and probably leaving little handprints for the shopkeeper to clean later.

“I’m sorry about that,”

“That’s… Okay. What can I get you?” she seemed a little confused. Strange, but you brushed past it just as quickly as she did.

“Ah, what do we want?” you asked Little Boy.

He excitedly tugged on your pantleg and pointed to the popsicle he wanted, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t need to convince you, but you quickly realized you were not going to be able to say no to any else after this if he deployed the same cute begging look.

“One of those cute little Tweety Bird faces,” you pointed.

“Anything else?” she handed you the popsicle and you gingerly took it.

“Nah, that’s it” you were too nauseous to eat right now.

You paid, throwing the change into the tip jar, and turned to give Little Boy the popsicle she handed you.  The words caught in your throat as you looked down to find your pantleg absent of any tugging by any Little Boy. You quickly scanned the tiny paleteria. He was nowhere to be found, anywhere in the room.

“Uh, did you see where the kid went?” you tried not to sound too panicked.

She was taken aback, also quickly looking around the room to find no one, before shaking her head, “Did you have a kid with you?”

You furiously nodded in confusion,

“I’m sorry, then I didn’t see them,” she pointed to the glass door that led to the courtyard only a few feet away from y’all, “Try outside, maybe?”

You burst outside, searching the area in a panic, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Not hidden in the tangle of the garden, not splashing around in the fountain, not at, under, on top of, or around any of the tables.

You went to call his name, but your voice caught in your throat when you realized you didn’t have a name to call. And.

And.

Something hit your shirt. A water droplet. You looked up into the clear, blinding blue sky. Your nerves tickled as another droplet ran down your cheek. Oh, you were crying. Huh.

You took the closet seat you could find, counting the things processed by your 5 senses. It’s all you could do to not start bawling for no reason. Maybe you’ll calm down and be able to think straight soon.

Why can’t you think straight? Everything feels so fuzzy.

You should be terrified, and in a way, you were. In your heart of hearts, you knew the truth: Little Boy wasn’t real. Or at least turned back into a coyote and ran off.

As you stared vacantly into the open air, you realized you still had a dripping popsicle in your hands. Supposedly “Tweety Bird” shaped, it just looked like a yellow skull missing its mandible bone to you. How fitting.

You pulled it to your mouth. Yum. Tasted like AAAAAAAA. Or orange, according to the package.

Attempting to lick the melted yellow liquid off of your hand, you accidentally stuck the ice pop on your face. Great. Now you’re sticky all over.

God, you’ve really gone and lost your fucking marbles this time, haven’t you.

There was a bulletin kiosk a few feet down your field of vision. On that bulletin kiosk was an old poster, barely visible as it was buried under layers of other flyers. It caught your eye and seemed to burn your retinas. What little you could see was the word Freddy and part of what looked like a version of the bear you’d been toting around this whole little expedition, but that was enough.

Something clicked. You looked down at the bear hanging by your side in your other hand. The kid had shoved it into your arms so he could more easily lean on the display case, right before he disappeared the very moment you took your eyes off of him.

You know, you hadn’t really felt alone since bringing Fredbear home. And not in a good way.

Guess the name you should’ve been calling was Freddy.

You had to get rid of that bear.

***

You had been walking home like you always did, same route. But you noticed something peculiar about this time. The house that the old man had his yard sale in was now stripped of all decoration, with a For Sale sign proudly standing in the grass. No cars, and no blinds or curtains on the windows, so you could see into the den which was now devoid of any furniture.

You’ll admit it, you crept around to the other windows, searching for any signs of life at all in the empty rooms. None. No furniture, no people, no trash. The yard sale was yesterday. How did they clean this place out so thoroughly in the short amount of time between when you’d seen it last and now.

A little confuddled, you went home as usual. While strange as hell, this wasn’t a missing person’s case or anything. And it’s probably why the man was so adamant on giving you Fredbear because it was the end of the day. He had a deadline. He was skipping town.

God, you wished you could just skip town.

You frankly thought nothing of it when you unlocked the door to your apartment to see Fredbear was already seated on the couch, like he was all set to marathon whatever 30-year-old cartoon you wound up watching that night. And it’s not like your roommate hadn’t done something like this before, move a stuffed animal or action figure into a funny position for you to find later.

You hadn’t seen him much lately. Or like, at all. The only reason you knew he was still alive were the dirty dishes in the sink, dirty clothes on the floor of the bathroom, and the aforementioned moving the bear around.

Looking back now, was he moving the bear around?

If you locked the deadbolt that can’t be unlocked from the outside, you’d be guaranteed to catch him in person for once. But you weren’t willing to go through the trouble and emotional toil of doing that, however.

In the name of feeling less like a ghost haunting your own home, getting yelled at for intentionally locking your roommate out might be a wee bit counterproductive. Sure, you’d be seen and spoken to, but the harshness of his words and tone would send you into a worse episode than you were already in.

Well, at least Fredbear seemed ready to keep you company tonight...

The fact that they put unskippable advertisements on streaming services you’re paying for in the first place is criminal. Or at least regular cable tv in a trenchcoat.

You got a drink while they prattled on about luxury cars you couldn’t afford and real estate companies you weren’t going to have the privilege of patroning any time soon. Embarrassingly, as you poured the pitcher of water into a glass, you got a little distracted.

The cheap glass’s glass was only about a millimeter or two thick. You could easily just crush this cup in your hand, in one swift movement. The muscles of your arm began tensing up at the thought.

But thankfully, a loud, blaring advertisement coming from the TV snapped you out of it. And so, you promptly decided to Not Do That, because picking all of those tiny glass shards out of your flesh would be a bitch. And that was not how you wanted to spend a perfectly good Sunday night. And of course you didn’t need the questions at work tomorrow.

You returned to the couch, curiously, and you swear, that damn teddy bear followed you with its eyes. Even though they were a shiny, solid black, and the idea itself would be insane.

As you settled back down, you grabbed the remote to turn down the volume of the cheery music playing. Mysteriously, it wasn’t just a commercial with bad sound mixing, the TV itself had been turned up. Now that it had your attention, the thing that was being sold to you seemed to the state of Utah. You know, those Visit [X] ads that were commonly played between cooking shows and ghost hunting documentaries.

“Oh hey, you’re from there, right?” you poked at fredbear. And immediately felt pathetic. God, you’ve got to stop talking to inanimate objects and like get a boyfriend or something. Geez.

The imagery on the screen was just, you know, normal southwest stock footage:

A drone shot of Zion national park

Old men golfing

Owls living in holes they’ve dug into cactuses

Rock archways

A family laughing as they shared a pizza being served to them by a man in a bear suit that looked just fredbear,

“Oh, well there you are, I guess.” you once again absent-mindedly spoke to your toy friend.

Kids swimming in a fancy resort pool

A Navajo cultural event

More rock archways and red sandstone cliffs

Kids crowding around a claw machine filled with toys just like the one sitting next to you

Kids crowding around a stage as an animatronic band played

Kids crowding around a birthday cake, the light of candles bouncing off their faces as they sang along…

The fake sounding voice of the announcer rung out, “Visit Utah! You know the party can’t start without you!”

Your mouth felt dry. Good thing you now had that glass of water.

***

Of course, you did what any smart, sane person would do and feverishly ripped through the layers of old flyers to get to the advertisement for what you now knew was Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place. A themed diner and nickel arcade that made most of their money hosting birthday parties, by the looks of it. You knew the type; you had been an American child once too.

Good thing none of the cops were hanging around outside to fine you for littering, because the amount of paper you just released into the breeze was in fact criminal.

There was a short list of locations at the bottom of the poster. They had a few scattered over Utah, or at least they used to, judging by the harsh weathering of this poster. The closest one being in Bigwater, explaining why this poster was out here in Tuba. But the word Hurricane stood out to you like it was lit up in neon. It burned like sunlight.

It appears you are in fact on your way to Hurricane, Utah. As if you didn’t know that already at this point, you being out on the canyon rim instead of your much preferred and beloved Rockies. Well, congratulations bitch. You’ve only got another three hours to go. Better get going. Have fun!

***

Oh, this place was creepy as hell. Or it’s just late at night, and you’re sleep deprived and paranoid. In the spirit of being honest to yourself, ‘sleep deprived and paranoid’ has always been your natural state of being, but right now it’s definitely ramped up to an eleven.

But even though it’s been close to 48 hours since your last brain-reset, this place still had a certain energy about it. Like New Orleans, or the woods around lynching bridges did. That spooky oh I am Not Safe here type of energy.

The gas station-man gave you a real weird look when you stormed in and asked where the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was. Normally you would’ve chalked it up to you being a clear foreigner asking for directions as if it’s 1995, to a children’s arcade close to midnight nonetheless, but now you weren’t so sure.

You eyed the fridge full of wine in pint sized bottles and little juice cartons. But nah, you probably needed to have a quick reaction time to whatever was waiting for you in this Venus flytrap you’re willingly walking into. You grabbed a Monster instead and you know what, yeah, that probably wasn’t the best decision either. If you weren’t high strung before, you definitely were now. You felt like you could punch a bear. A Freddy Fazbear.

You bought a local map alongside the energy drink, feeling like you were gonna need it. Man, low-tech was actually kinda annoying after a while. You got the gas station-man to begrudgingly mark Fazbear’s down onto it for you. Apparently, it and all other locations within town had closed down some twenty years ago. Not many people are still around who remember why, he said, but it had something to do with the faulty animatronics. Teenagers told ghost stories and dared each other to spend the whole night in the dining room. But otherwise, beyond the rumors, the original Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was just an empty, scorched building. And the other various locations like Jr’s or Circus Baby’s had been sold off, passing so many hands who knows what businesses were in there now. But you could still kinda tell, if you paid attention, in the same way you can tell if something used to be a Pizza Hut.

What you really wanted, according to gas station-man, whose nametag read Gary, was this new location that was opening soon, simply named Freddy’s Pizzeria. It’s set to open for business in September, so you’re lucky. He marked it one your map as well.

You don’t know why Gary was so nice to you. Maybe it was the harrowed look in your eyes. Maybe it was the twitchiness. Maybe Gary is just very bored of this tourist town and was looking to fall madly in love with a random troubled soul he met at midnight in a gas station and would wind up running away with to some far-off place. If that was the case, sorry Gary. You were too busy with the metaphorical torture labyrinth to care about romance at the moment.

You couldn’t decide if the haunted Fredbear would want to see an old location or the new one. You asked, but of course the fucker didn’t answer. Just sat there with his smug grin and glassy eyes that followed your hand movements. So, you quite literally tossed a coin. A new mint, the face side had Eleanor Roosevelt on it. And she marked the fact that you were going to try the new location first, and then try the original building next. Cool.

***

Your patience was kinda at its limit here, you’ll admit. You really should get some sleep soon. Or eat. Since you were hellbent on getting here and nothing else, the only thing on your stomach besides that wretched Tweety Bird popsicle is half a monster energy. Guess you’ll go by a fucking Denny’s after this. If you survive.

If you were going to die horrifically, you’d really rather the forces that be make it snappy. This was getting ridiculous.

You pulled into the parking lot. The building clearly wasn’t new but had been freshly painted. Nothing creepy so far. As you stared down the building, sizing it up, you noticed there was one car parked in the front, and a few of the windows were lit up.

Cool, so there was someone in there. Great. That makes, well whatever this is, much harder.

The door was locked.

You could hear music playing from inside. You banged on the door as loudly as you could manage, and it still took a couple of minutes before the music stopped. And then a very disgruntled man in coveralls was in the doorway, tiredly asking just what the fuck you wanted at this time of night.

He smiled to cover up his rudeness, but the smile stretched a little too wide, inhumanly wide, and a shiver ran down your spine.

You took him in, unashamedly raking your eyes over his form. He stood awkwardly, as if ready to bolt at any moment. What you could see of his build made him out to be weirdly skinny. That unnaturally wide smile gave way to some exposed teeth on the left side of his face. His eyes were shadowed by his bangs in the backlight of the door, but you swore they almost glowed themselves. His complexion was greyish and bordered on almost purple in this lighting.

Despite all this, he was still pretty handsome. Well, you did always think some of those creepypasta guys were boyfriend material. Maybe, you wouldn’t mind getting chopped up into little pieces if this guy was the one doing it. Okay, and maybe you’ve been sleeplessly chasing ghosts too long.

Startling you, he reached his hand to grab your shoulder, a little too fast.

“Hey mate, are you okay?” He asked nervously,

It snapped you out of your stupor, realizing you had yet to say a word to him, “Uh, yes, I just wanted to…”

How do you even fucking ask this. “Hey, can I bring a stuffed bear to your dining room so maybe it’s spirit will leave me alone? Maybe conduct a séance or something?” Seriously, did you even know what you were doing here? Shit. Okay.

“I wanted to ask if I could check out your facility?” came out like a question because even you had no clue what you were saying.

“Come back tomorrow in the daylight, then,” he began closing the door, shaking his head in annoyance, “or perhaps when we’re actually open.”

“NO!” you slammed your foot into the door as he closed it, “AAGH!”

“Jesus Christ! WHY.”

Dear lord, this man now 100% thinks you’re a crackhead.

“Just, don’t close that door, okay,” his brows scrunched together as you grit your teeth to swallow down the pain, “I need you to help me.”

“I really don’t have any money to spar--”

“I’M HERE BECAUSE OF A GHOST,” you interrupted. Finally, you managed to get that out somehow, if nonsensical.

A look of recognition flickered in his glowing eyes. He lowered into your space, kind of intimidatingly. Or intimately. Yeah, no, this was hostile, don’t fool yourself.

“What kind of ghost,” he asked suspiciously.

“Uh,” shit, okay, “the weird, haunted doll kind? Uh, like the ones the McElroy brothers are always bidding on on eBay. Or maybe this is kind of a Ben Drowned kinda situation, I’m not completely sure.”

He blinked, “okay, I only understood a few of those words, but—”

“It’s a Freddy teddy bear that really wanted me to take it to Hurricane, okay?” You really were at the end of your rope at the moment, “I have literally driven here for days straight on no sleep and barely any food and I need this Unauthorized Fucking Thing to find it’s eternal peace or kill me in some horrible way so I can hurry up and get on with my goddamn life,”

“Uh, see… the thing is,” he started to retreat back again, slowly moving his hands like he was trying to calm down a spooked animal.

 You realized what was about to happen, and it must have been visible in your eyes, since his huge unnatural placating smile returned,

“I actually don’t want anything to do with that, sooo…”

“PLEASE—” you reached out in blind panic, but he dodged it. (now if only you could’ve dodged the scooper like that Mikey)

The door slammed in your face.

Your breathing was ragged and fogged up the glass as he locked it again. You stared up at those glowing pinprick pupils of his as he gave you an apologetic little wave goodbye. And then he fucking made a big show of pointing at the closed sign before turning tail to disappear back into the darkness of the empty restaurant.

Okay.

Just a little setback. You’ll go to the older location first, now, and come back when this asshole is sleeping. Can’t be too hard to bust out one of those windows, and you doubt he has an alarm set up already. It’s his fault, really. If he didn’t want property damage, then he should’ve just let you in. Not like you haven’t warned him that you were desperate or anything.

Just gonna go to the other location. You’ve got your map, you’ve got a tank full of gas, and you’ve got chutzpah.

Now what you don’t have? Is a car that will start.

[forgingtheblade]

OH GOD, I HAVE TO TAG THIS ONE FOR EYE HORROR, aka TECHNOBLADE HEAD PART 2

once all those good good fur bits from the last post are cut apart (which I do using a fresh or freshly sharpened xacto blade to create as little mess as possible), it’s time to start sewing them together. using those hash marks which i copy from the pattern to the fur i’ll start to line everything up.

you’ll notice he’s a wee bit saggy here—this is intentional! i wouldn’t usually want this, but pigs are very fleshy guys and I don’t want him to be cartoonishly smooth. those wrinkles will both hide some flaws and make him nice and pig like.

some of the looseness is just because things aren’t attached, though, like the bottom jaw is meant to be sewn into the lining both inside and outside of the mouth which will hold the fabric tightly to that piece.

many makers will glue fur down at this phase, and I do this to some extent but probably a lot less than most, except for where I’m putting those wrinkles I’m mostly gluing at the edges.

here i’m testing out placement for some tusks I made using thermoplastic pellets! you pour a bunch of them in boiling water and while they’re still hot they’re malleable and I basically rolled them into the shape i wanted. I added a couple drops of yellow and purple acrylic inks to color them. I think these are the ones I didn’t end up using, they were a bit too yellow for my taste.

next up is the eyes! which were! an actual fucking nightmare! after trying a few things using the actual eye holes i decided the look i wanted would be best served by glass eyes, in pursuit of semi-realism. pigs have the cutest little tiny beaded eyes and between awkward placement and the flatness of the mesh, it just wasn’t cutting it. so i bought glass cabochons and painted the backs! originally, the plan was to create eyelids using foam clay, which as pictured above, was kind of horrifying. because i was using fur and not something more skin-like, the flat eyelids really did not work well.

here i also glued in the painted mesh for my vision. note the size and the angle. my visibility fucking sucks in this head and that’s just a sacrifice i knew i was gonna have to make.

i ended up cutting out a section of the forehead fur to insert panels i glued the eyes into. i just used the actual fur for the eyelids, and it was marginally better than before!

that did not stop me from freaking out about how creepy and weird he looked at this phase though, which resulted in a frantic text to my dad asking for advice on how to fix his face. I was already probably at least 40 hours deep in this phase, and the uncertainty was not fun.

my dad told me that i had absolutely nailed the pig look (yes!) but the uncanny valley effect was hitting hard. he suggested making the eyes face forward a little more and try to add some humanity back into the face. i realized i had been so focused on making a realistic pig head that i forgot i was making TECHNOBLADE.

moving the eyes front facing helped a lot, as did stitching the fur into the mesh for the eye holes, and gluing in the wrinkles on the snout, but i think the real saving grace here was the EYEBROWS!!

i cut them out of foam, glued magnets into them and into the head, with a couple different positions for a bit of expression variety, and covered them in the same fabric as the ears and snout. and let me tell you, they make his little piggy face so so cute and expressive !! he really went from being just some pig to TECHNOBLADE!! and that’s what i wanted!!

but the heads not quite done yet here—one more post about the head coming up soon !!

[kaiowut99]

A Special Announcement~ | Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V Tag Force Special Re-Translation Project!

I've been itching to get around to posting about this for a few months now, but wanted to wait until I'd worked on enough for it, but also had the idea to create an announcement trailer to go with it for added good measure--after recording and editing clips for a couple weeks and leveling the audio last night, heremst we are! (For some clips, I forgot to turn off the PPSSPP emulator's DevMenu option so that shows up in the top-left, buuut I didn't feel like re-recording those, lmao.)

Details worth reading below the cut here, but tl;dr work has been in progress for over a year in between things, work will continue to be in progress for a while, and the release will happen when everything's ready, but stay tuned, fun's getting started etc etc~

So, I'm sure most of us are familiar with the as-yet-unlocalized-by-Konami TFSP, the seventh and last entry in the Tag Force series on the PSP that came out early in ARC-V's run (featuring the first five series which was a cool first), as well as the current translations out there originally worked on by the guys at XenoTranslations (omarrrio and ScrewTheRules/ClickClaxer01 at GBATemp handling the card and story/etc translations, respectively) and how there are... some issues with what's out there. Everything from the DM story mode being loaded with YGOTAS references (no shade to YGOTAS and much respect to LK/Martin for his ongoing work on it still making me laugh sometimes, ofc) to the off-the-cuff edginess of 2014-2015-era internet culture and the problematic (in some cases, derogatory) language that permeated it--though to its credit, some parts do have some level of translation attempted, but taken as a whole, it can definitely turn people off from giving the game a try and seeing what it brings to the table (which is still a good amount despite the corners Konami cut here/there compared to prior TF games).

I actually did attempt a translation of my own back in 2015 (if you've been following me for a long time, you might remember it lol), tackling the GX story text starting with Judai's heart events, but eventually put it on the backburner as I focused more on my GX subbing work and beginning to finalize everything (which I'm still doing). Sometime in 2022, a friend over on NeoArkCradle (the "anonymous YGO fan" in the opening screen) was poring over the story text and patching it up the best he could to remove the references and inaccuracies with more coherent work, and after a while of seeing what he was working with in the Discord, I was a bit blown away by just how inaccurate much of it was--so alongside him, and using the better tools available since then (including some really awesome work from both nzxth2 [who did a proper re-translation of 5D's TF6 not too long ago and was kind enough to release his tools for it] and our coding helper Xan1242 who we eventually reached out to for some help), I decided to *cracks knuckles* get involved and help give everything a more accurate and professional translation, much like I do with my GX subs, working directly off the Japanese text and files. I've been taking cracks at everything in between the GX episodes I've been finalizing going back to at least last January (and I'd used my little hiatus after finalizing GX Season 2's subs to really get at some other stuff throughout the game), starting with re-translating DM's story text but also properly translating other aspects of the game, from the character names (using the original Japanese names, including those of the TF-exclusive characters, partly since Konami made a whole mess of them in English TF1-5), in-duel dialogue, pack descriptions, and more to images with Japanese text (such as localizing the in-duel cut-in onomatopoeia as you see in the video above, or other little images throughout) using some Photoshop skills I've picked up. And it's been a joint effort, as said NAC friend and I have been bouncing off how we'd like to see this go between us to stay on the same page and all, while also checking with other translators there for second/third opinions as needed.

Our plan is to release two versions of a translation--one which uses the OCG [translated] card names in Story Mode, in-duel, and other text but not in the game's card system (mainly to deal with story-relevant notes like Osiris vs Slifer with the Gods or things like not-Utopia Hope being symbolic between Yuma and Astral, akin to how I do my GX subs), and one which uses the TCG card names in everything (like how the official subs go about it). While we're mostly working with the Japanese game files due to how the Xeno team went about decoding everything, we'll be using the card-system-related files from the fixed ISO provided by FLSGaming which fixed some issues that had been present there. And Xan has helped us with a plugin that will be used to apply our translations to the system files that were hard to edit otherwise (things like the character and recipe names, as well as the pack names pulled from for the Card Description screen), but more on how that'll work once this is ready for release, lol. At some point, I'd like to also look at HDifying textures and things, but that's definitely a bonus-level thing for after the main work here is done.

SO.

Currently, Story-Mode-wise, I've gone through everything up to Yusei's events--so Dark Yugi/Kaiba/Jounouchi/Ishizu/Mai in DM, Judai/Manjoume/Asuka/Misawa/Ryou in GX, and Yusei in 5D's have been fully retranslated, though I took initial cracks at Yuma and Yuya's events to get content for this video lol (I've also been intentionally holding off on as much ZEXAL as I can until I've properly watched the whole show so I have context). I haven't tackled overworld text yet, though (like pre-duel or the tournament-related text, which is all in the same file as all the story text). I've also been handling the in-duel dialogue as I go through the character stories, so also just up to Yusei, though I did take initial cracks at Aki's, Yuma and Shark's, and Yuya and Yuzu's for the video.

Other things tackled that were sprinkled into the video, along with some other notes:

Pack names and descriptions have been retranslated, though the descriptions may see minor edits closer to release for a little variety between worlds given the different characters at the shop. Character recipe names were also retranslated, with Yugipedia's translations for them used as an occasional second opinion, though ones based on pack names had to be abbreviated in spots.

Menu text, from the Options to Help screens and stuff in between, has been retranslated, as have in-duel text strings (so, you'll see a full "Activate Effect" instead of "Activate" or "Switch to Attack/Defense Position" instead of "Switch to ATK/DEF Position", etc--also fixed the "BATTELE PHASE" graphic typo, and NAC friend created a new translation for the "Turn Change" graphic for accuracy since ENG TF1-5 made that into "Next Player's Turn").

Database stuff, such as the Sound Test, Tutorials, Duel Missions, etc., have been retranslated closer to the Japanese text; originally I retranslated the Tutorial text via hex editor, with compromises done on quite a bit of it due to the space limits, but as Xan recently updated a text extractor tool of theirs to more cleanly pull out and reinsert that text, I've been going through and fleshing out those translations more (on my commutes to/from work mostly, to be productive lol).

As mentioned, I've been localizing/translating Japanese-text images throughout the game as I come across them, like with the in-duel onomatopoeia that come up during cut-ins or images in the shop/duel/etc screens using Japanese text, to make sure the game is fully translated.

The series logos, used during the title sequence and in the Series Select screens, were updated with translated fan edits shared on Deviantart (which we'll credit in the final release) for DM and GX, while the 5D's-ARC-V logos were edited to enlarge the "Yu-Gi-Oh!" text on them that was pretty hard to see originally.

The game's original opening sequence starts on an anti-piracy message before going into the Konami logo and then a "From Yu-Gi-Oh!..." screen before the opening animation for each series logo--the original team decided to use the first image to vent their frustration at Konami for not localizing this game, and while that's valid (to some extent), we thought we'd use the opportunity to dedicate this project to Kazuki Takahashi for inspiring our love for YGO and the place it's had in our hearts for all these years.

We'll be updating the names of cards that had TCG releases after the original patch was worked on/updated by FLSG to those corresponding names.

Xan has been working on many UI fixes for us to apply with this, among them 3-line dialogue box text as is used in the ENG TF1-5 games--once implemented for TFSP, I'll be going over everything to make full use of that extra space where needed, so things might not look as they do in the video by then.

Character bios will be worked on after I've done the story stuff, though I've taken initial cracks at it for Yuma and Yuya's bios for the video, along with translating the location/affiliation names ("Domino High School," "Satellite," etc).

Currently no release date is planned, as I'm working on this between my GX-finalizing work and actual IRL work, though we'll see how later this year looks as more work gets done--but as noted in the video, all things being equal, it will be released when everything is ready. I'll try to post regular updates or rambles now that this announcement's been made, lol, but do try not to constantly check in on a release date. 🙏🏽

All that said, I think that covers just about everything I wanted to put out there with this, lol. It's been fun to work on this so far and getting to see what I've re-translated in-game is definitely neat; looking forward to us being able to release everything when ready.

Stay tuned for more; the fun's just getting started!

[quibbs126]

Also could you make a kouign-amann x capsaicin fanchild?

@amythecat2001 also asked for this before, but I made the other part of that ask previously and posted just that one with the ask, so I’m tagging

Anyways, she’s been done for a few days now, I just forgot to post, this is Spicy Roll Cookie

So she’s an absolute sweetheart, she just tends to be really loud. She’s great at giving motivational pep talks, and she’s someone you’d want as a friend. She’s also an incredibly powerful fighter. I didn’t draw her with a weapon, but she is supposed to have an axe, as shown by me trying to sketch one out somewhat in the top

She’s a Paladin in the Crème Republic, and tends to be more fond of their types of outfits, but she still has some fondness for her Dragon’s Valley heritage

That’s about it for her, I mostly just have vibes

As for her name, she’s basically just a cinnamon roll, but spicy. It was because pastry + spicy. I remember this pairing was giving me a lot of trouble because I didn’t know how to combine the two, and I eventually just kind of made something up. But I still like the name

Cinnamon roll:

I was considering making her color scheme more brown/orange, to fit in with the cinnamon roll thing, but ah well I suppose. That is half the reason her dough’s brown, as well as it just working as a medium between Kouign Amann and Capsaicin. And it’s also the reason she has all those swirls

Oh, another thing I should mention, this wasn’t the original design I made for Spicy Roll. It’s not that much different, but it is somewhat different

I had asked my Discord group if it looked good, since I had been watching Venture Bros while working on her, and I felt like I hadn’t been giving Spicy Roll my full attention as a result. I got some critiques and changed her accordingly. I do think the final design looks better tbh, but I still have some fondness for this version

I also did it on the same layer as the original lineart, so this you see here is the only physical proof of the original design

Anyways, back to her actual design, because I took a detour there

So when I was first rough sketching her back some time ago, I had planned on giving her the down facing horns, but I couldn’t get a hairstyle that looked good with it, so she got shelved temporarily. But I think I have something that works now

Her diamond pupils were supposed to be like a combination of Capsaicin’s slit pupils and Kouign Amann’s heart eyes. With the colors of Capsaicin’s eyes semi reversed because I like it better that way, at least on Spicy Roll

And yeah I think that’s all I have to say on her design right now. I like it overall

Oh wait, one last thing about her, in the notes on my list, the original first thing I put was “Barbenheimer?” Since I think that was going on or had just gone on at the time of the first request

Anyways, that’s it for Spicy Roll, I hope you like her!

[existslikepristin]

Been holding on to this one in a finished/unedited state for a few months now because I wasn't too happy with it. @worldsover did some editing for me. It still feels like something's missing (I'm not going to try to make Levi literally rewrite the whole thing), so feel free to give me critiques and suggestions, even if it's "yeah, I see what you mean and it is a little odd". I don't want to avoid posting it for forever, so let's call it a learning experience.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy! This is my first explicitly stated female reader insert, so that's yet another fun step.

(Also, I know I promised that the next story would be "normal" but you know what? Anything is normal compared to my last fic, so the only critique I will not be accepting is "Waaah, this isn't 'normal!'")

Tags: NSFW, TheLounge, Red Velvet, Irene, Female reader insert, anal, rimming, not a single line of dialogue, canonical silence, ass worship, massage oils, hand holding, yeah you’re deeefinitely the dominant one here

Open and Shut Up

~~~~~

No talking.

You can get behind that. That’s totally sexy. What’s less sexy… is a flowchart.

Obviously, you printed it out. Irene is going to be paying you for thi—It’s not payment, you remind yourself. It’s a mutual favor between acquaintances which may or may not involve money or goods/services which require it.

You scowl retroactively at Yeri’s so-called humorous insistence that you are, effectively, a prostitute. Performing sex acts in exchange, one time, for smoked salmon bagels is most definitely not prostitution, as you have reminded her many times.

Trying very hard to put that train of thought behind you, you glance around at the room. Low light, vanilla lavender sandalwood candles, obscenely soft towels, lube options, massage oils, and the stupid fucking laminated flowchart. You sigh—

NO! You don’t sigh, actually! Because the no talking rule was emphasized in great detail during negotiations, and included moans, groans, hums, whispers, grunts, and unnecessarily heavy breathing. And since a sigh is a heavy breath, you fucking hold that shit in tight!

But why do you need to hold in your sighs? Well, because of the final feature of the room that wasn’t mentioned two paragraphs ago: Irene, lying entirely nude on her stomach, on a bed of silk sheets, implying that your job—NOT your job, excuse you—has already begun. You entered the room mere seconds ago, so this should be extremely obvious to you, but you had to take care of a bit of exposition before you could really admire her body or get into the action. Perhaps you should do one of those two things now.

You can hardly believe what you’re seeing. Her slim legs and waist, the expanse of her back easily defeating the silkiness of the sheets she’s on, her elegant neck, her luxurious pitch black hair twirled into a loose bun, and the mild plumpness of her ass, peeking out from above the creases where her thighs meet it. Now, you’ve seen plenty of naked idols, but it’s the prestige that comes with this idol in particular that may have you so excited. Or it’s what she wants you to do to her. It’s hard to say. Point is, you’re wet, and you’re probably going to have to lay down a towel of your own.

On that note, you forgot an important aspect of the exposition: You’re not allowed to touch yourself.

That’s right. You’re in a room with a naked Irene, perhaps the most desired (per capita by fans and/or marketing departments) idol in history, preparing to gape her asshole in exchange for goods and/or services and/or currency totalling in value no less than the approximate equivalent worth of this spa treatment, and you aren’t supposed to get yourself off. But you are supposed to be naked, so you remove your shirt and bra, making just enough noise for her to hear you undressing, since that’s supposed to be how you let her know you’re about to start—

Oh, yes. Did you forget the most, actually, critically important part of your exposition? Oh, you think you caught on to it moments ago? Why, yes. You’re here, specifically, to gape her asshole. No more, except any action that will lead toward said gaping, and definitely no less. You are to take the role of dominant, while she takes the role of submissive. Never mind the fact that, per her instructions, you can’t speak, or make any noise, or touch yourself, or use her body to get yourself off, or choose your own state of undress, or touch any part of her not shown in the diagram on the flowchart, or do anything that isn’t explicitly spelled out on the flowchart… But you are required to spank her if she makes any noises. So yeah, you’re totally the dominant one here. (And, to be more specific, you are to keep track of which buttcheek you last spanked so that you can make sure to spread the ass-slapping evenly between cheeks and preserve symmetry, followed by immediate continuation of whatever action you were in the midst of prior to said spank.)

… Yes, that is the last of the exposition. What? You want to have a flashback to when the verbal negotiations were happening? Absolutely not. That’s dialogue, which is technically against the rules. It’s time to do things to Irene’s butthole. Stop stalling.

Once you remove your skirt, slippers, and underwear, you get onto your knees, noting that the floor seems slightly spongy and wondering what that’s about. Irene’s legs are closed. The crevasse of her ass on its own makes you want to scream, but the centerpoint of the cross formed by that crevasse and her thigh crease . There is the slightest gap at that point which reveals the tiniest sneak peak of what hides between. You bite down on your lips to suppress your instinctual lewd moan. Okay, you’re just getting started. Calm down, or this is going to be impossibly difficult.

You straddle Irene’s calves (without touching them!), take a deep and silent breath, and lean forward, placing your palms first on the flawless globes of her ass, then letting your fingers come to rest as well. They’re such a perfect combination of firm, soft, and smooth that it brings tears to your eyes. The inability to comment on them out loud brings you near-physical pain and certainly-mental anguish. If Irene cares, she’s not making it known. She’s deathly silent, and you only know she’s alive because of the way her back rises and falls with her breath.

Contact achieved. Looking at the flowchart isn’t necessary for now. You had a pretty easy time memorizing steps one through five since they don’t have any branching-off points. Step two is to inspect. You look away and take a couple more deep (and silent!) breaths, then increase the pressure of your hands on Irene’s butt and ever so slowly pull apart.

Within the realm of your imagination, you can see yourself comically hyperventilating. In the real world, you see a hole that you could only ever describe as manicured. Not a hair in sight, and some shade of pink so unrealistically perfect that it probably has a Pantone color named after it (Irene’s Butthole Pink? Pick a hex code). The miniscule folds of flesh are already very slightly gaped, giving you a near-imperceptible view into her interior, as if she’d had someone else very recently do what you’re about to, or as if she’d prepared herself with a butt plug. You wonder if Irene even owns a butt plug though, considering she can probably convince any person on the planet to open up her ass any time she would even want to use one. Or maybe she does have one. The Alexander III Commemorative Fabergé egg is still missing, after all…

You pull a little further, and can’t contain your shudder as not only her asshole opens by another couple millimeters, but her pussy lips spread and eventually split apart when the pressure barely overcomes the moisture holding them together. Your eyes and heart flutter, and you think you might faint. The vagina is one of many areas which is not indicated as touchable on the diagram, which hurts your soul because it’s the perfect number of shades darker than the surrounding skin and—

It’s time to focus! Asshole only! Get your mind out of the gutter!

Keeping one hand in place so she stays half-open, you get a handful of one of the massage oils. It feels room temperature, but you're supposed to hold it until it's warmer, so you stare at Irene's back as you try not to let too much drip away. The movement of her breathing is steady and subtle. In. Out. You try to match her pace. In. Out. In. Out.

When it's ready, you let the oil flow off your hand into the cleft of Irene's ass. She doesn't so much as flinch, which you obviously credit more to your excellent reading of body temperature and less to her ass-trance. But back to the butt in hand.

The oil travels leisurely down her crack, speeding up ever so slightly as the path becomes more vertical, and stopping to pool on top of her hole. You place your oily hand on its designated cheek again and repeat the process on the other side.

It’s time to really get started now… with step three-dash-C.

The tips of your thumbs meet just over her hole and press down flatly so that they do not enter her. You slowly shift them around each other and back, massaging with just the right pressure to stay on the rim. The rest of your hands are for massaging the rest of her derriere. It’s not necessary, but you want to show off your manual dexterity, and you want to make sure she’s as relaxed as can—She’s effectively already achieved Nirvana down there, from the looks of things, actually. The relaxation is for you. You’re the one who’s Nirvous about this anal—Is this a joke to you? It’s time for another spread test. You need to make sure Irene’s ready, because maybe somewhere between steps four-dash-E and four-dash-K you’ll forget to off yourself for that pun… Thank fuck you didn’t say that one out loud.

Step four is the first insertion.

Every ounce of fortitude you have is tested. You hold back your shaking. It’s just a finger. It is just a finger, right? You’ve done this plenty of times, to plenty of idols, no less. Well, not a silent butt-fingering, per se, but you’ve been knuckle deep in other idols before, and often more than one idol and often more than one knuckle! Irene just has a gravitas that makes yo—Don’t you dare say she has a gravitass. Stay. Quiet! And keep her ass spread with your free hand.

You watch the carefully trimmed, polished nail of your forefinger leisurely slip into her asshole. Then you pass your first knuckle. You stop on the second and quietly release your held breath. You don’t recall making an analogy about the feeling of her ass cheeks, but you’ll sure as hell compare the interior of her butt to cashmere. The minor gape you’d noticed previously has no effect on how tightly the hole hugs your digit.

Irene’s back rises a centimeter higher, and falls more slowly. Her pattern is broken. You catch your breath again. Did you do something wrong? Is the massage oil adequate? No, it’s only meant to be the starter. This was the whole intention. Right? You glance at the flowchart. Yes, step three, massage oil only, no additional lubrication. You do your best to relax and drag your finger back.

The way her asshole holds on to your finger is its own story of seduction, affair, and dramatic departure. She (her hole is a she) clearly doesn’t want her (so is your finger) to go, but she has to, lest her family shun her. But she cannot resist returning, leaving again despite all the kissing and languid hugging, and returning once more. One last time, she escapes completely, but after telling the story to a saucy friend, introduces Irene’s butt to them, and suddenly the sordid romance becomes a menage a trois.

Two fingers, two knuckles deep in Irene’s ass, you note your own wetness beginning to trail down your inner thigh. You aren’t sure exactly why the thought crosses your mind that you hope that it will somehow evaporate against your ragingly hot and bothered leg.

Now, out, and back in, out, and back in. With your breath. You match Irene’s. Out, and back in.

You gulp. You’re halfway through step four’s substeps. Next is the addition of another finger and more thrusting at a torturously slow pace for an actually timed five minutes. You find yourself hypnotized by it. The five minutes pass by in something more like twelve seconds, and the clock on the wall gently changes color to let you know it’s time to make the final preparations for step five. It’s not magical. It’s just connected by bluetooth to the phone to your left.

But what is magical? You’ve come this far, so you should know by now. It’s Irene’s asshole. You remove two of three fingers, then reinsert one more from the opposite hand, and as cautiously as you can, pull apart. There’s the magic.

Irene’s butt is open, and not just immediately around your fingers, but in a whole oval shape. It’s not enormously wide, but it’s enough that you could reasonably, without discomfort, insert the tip of your tongue.

… Hey. Wouldn’t you know it? That’s step five.

Rimming is always a questionable thing to do to your nose, ranging from the worst to a merely neutral idea. When you draw in close to Irene’s open ass, however, it’s the massage oil that overpowers your trepidatious olfactory sense. You’d noticed earlier that it was labeled as Fresh Linen, a scent that certainly makes sense given Irene’s reputation for laundry-doing, but it triggers a seemingly unrelated and entirely Loony memory of the smell of coffee. How the smells of linen and coffee are linked in your mind, you may never know. Perhaps you should see a professional about that.

But how’s the taste? Well, bland with the slight bitter spike of chemicals that improve viscosity but shouldn’t be ingested in large quantities. The risk of health complications is extremely low though, and you’d risk significantly more for this specific opportunity.

Irene’s butt cheeks and your face cheeks are still separated by your hands, but as of step five-dash-B that will no longer be the case. For now, your lips and tongue are in full contact, and that would be more than enough. To be licking around and inside the asshole of Irene, the rarely disputed queen of idols, you have to be infinitely lucky. You thank heaven you are.

Your focus is drawn in further and further. No more jokes. No more references to other stories. Even the most obvious pun/reference slips from your mind as you try your best to keep your tongue soft for Irene’s pleasure.

Your complete and total compliance doesn’t go unnoticed by Irene, somehow. The tiniest roll of her hips, that barest indication of her appreciation, kicks your core into overdrive. The trail down your thigh widens and it’s all you can do to beg the universe that you won’t drip on her calves.

It takes more strength than you knew you had not to squeal your desperation into her ass. Your thighs and your lungs and your everything else burn with desire. You know it’s not for want of air since your nose is still free, so it has to be your overwhelming need for Irene’s attention. You’d do anything. You are doing anything. A friendly agreement to gape her hole? No, this is a test, a labor, a trial. You’re proving your devotion.

You’re not licking a queen’s ass. 

You’re worshipping a goddess. 

It’s not a flowchart. 

It’s a divine ritual.

The shifting color on the clock only mostly guides you out of your trance. You pull away with a heavy heart, staring half lidded at the strings of saliva still connecting you with what you now live for. There’s no difference in size, but you much prefer the sheen you left on her rim to that of the oil. Step five isn’t over yet.

Do rituals have steps? You try to think back to any hieroglyphics you’ve seen in old textbooks. There were no numbers… Obviously there were no numbers. They were hieroglyphics. You can’t read that shit—

Stop.

You remove your fingers, allowing Irene’s ass to close once more. It happens slowly. You nearly choke, watching her hole return to its previous shape with your breath held so tightly in your chest that it feels like something is going to burst. Hey, maybe it will, but that can’t happen yet. That would be too loud, and your goddess demands silence, so you open your mouth to simply allow the breath to drift out along with any comments you had on the subject.

You close back in once again, this time letting your face settle against Irene’s cheeks and gently nudge them apart, reattaching your tongue to her rim. You want to dive in, to feel her squeeze you, maybe even cum around you, but that’s not part of the ritual. You need to give her rest. The best is yet to cum—no. Come. You give her the lightest rimming you can, holding your tongue back to merely caress her asshole while you silently revel in the light press of her glutes on your cheeks.

Another slight roll of her hips sends you reeling. Your vision fades and Irene is all that’s left. You can see the movement. It’s not just her breath, but her oh-so-gentle rocking back and forth that makes the light and shadows play across her back like the grains of the Elysian fields waving in the breeze. It doesn’t seem right for you to be allowed to experience this, to taste this, to be treated to a view of paradise, to understand the touch of divinity.

The gently shifting color of the clock, magenta to yellow, broadens your vision again. You back away, taking a deep breath that you only now realize you desperately needed.

Without thinking, finally, you do as Irene has commanded. You place your palms on her ass: your altar. You slide your thumbs into her glorious hole, and you pull apart softly. Her muscles have relaxed so thoroughly that you meet no resistance. She is simply open, as if this is just how she was always meant to be, told in myths that cannot be written. Her soft ass doesn’t try to clench down. It remains a portal that entices you, begs you to enter.

And you could. Certainly, as is the case with other gods, Irene could forgive you for showing her your specialty. You, the heroic champion, could show her an unexpected pleasure. Touch her clit, lap at her juices, grind yourself on the back of her thigh. Her instruction indicated that you’re the dominant one here. Make it so.

You hook the first knuckle of each of your pointer fingers, as directed, inside.

No. You can’t get greedy now. You’re not that kind of hero.

Irene opens further around your digits with no effort. Now you see the depth of her abyss, and it does not try to close. Irene wants you to see into her. Even the beautiful spheres of her ass to either side, her graceful back, her soft legs, her captivating hair… It all fades away. You know what the next step is. You don't need the clock to intuit the moment she's ready. Your higher thoughts and your lust blend together.

Slowly, you pull further apart. Not much. It may not seem like it's so small, but this immortal gateway still needs to be treated with reverence. For every millimeter you actually widen her, though, you see miles more. It makes you feel light-headed, even a little dizzy. And when you slide your fingers out, those feelings become far more distinct. Irene remains open.

Gaping may have been an appropriate word for her to have described what she wanted from you, but it was far too crude to represent what you see now. Then again, you’re not sure what else to call it. It’s been a while since the thesaurus failed you.

Irene's muscles are relaxed. Serene, even. Like this is where they should naturally be. You simply guided them.

You lean back in and gently kiss her rim. It's dangerous, running your tongue around the defined edge of the mortal and everlasting, but exhilarating. The slight rolling of her hips is your indication that Irene is feeling the same passion, for all the hubris it takes to assume such a thing about your goddess. As far as you know, she could just be moving because your tongue and lips aren't in the right places and making up for your inadequacies.

Still, every slight, slow shade of her ass against your cheek is a divine caress, urging you further along the journey. Your kisses are as insistent as you can get them without making the grave error of smacking your lips.

In the foggiest reaches of your vision, a hand reaches out to you along the floor. Irene grasps at the air like she wants something. That’s not part of the ritual. You can only think of one thing in the moment, and you take her hand in yours.

Irene’s fingers close around yours and curl into your palm. They flutter every time you swirl your tongue across her rim, and, after a moment, they squeeze.

It’s terrifying, at first, when Irene trembles underneath you. It evokes thoughts of earthquakes, brought upon by the wrath of the gods. But no, it’s orgasm. Her asshole contracts slightly, but otherwise just quivers against your mouth. It ends almost as soon as it begins.

Irene takes her hand away, and a bit of your soul with it. She lightly presses on the clock, and it shifts to white. You don’t have to be reminded of what that means. Steeling your heart, you back off of Irene’s ass and carefully push yourself up to your feet. Even at your full height, you can see into Irene’s hole. Taking it in with the full picture of the rest of her body is an incredible sight to behold. Knowing that you contributed to it makes it even more beautiful.

As you look over her, your eyes go wide and you have to contain a gasp. Irene’s calves are covered in little wet streaks, right where you had been hovering over her. Embarrassment washes over you. It's hard to imagine being so turned on as to not have felt yourself dripping on her, especially after having worried about that very thing mere minutes ago. You want to reach for a towel to correct your mistake, but you know you're not supposed to touch her. You're supposed to be dressing yourself and leaving, so you step away, and reach down for your clothes.

Your arms feel heavy as you pull your underwear up, only getting more embarrassed about how soaked they immediately become.

As you put on your shirt though, Irene moves again. You can't help but stand perfectly still, mesmerized by the smooth motion of Irene getting up onto her knees and sitting back on her heels. Now upright, she's even more statuesque, back curved inward from her generous bottom up to her gentle shoulders. One hand releases her hair from its bun, and the night sky falls past her neck, simultaneously obscuring and enhancing that gorgeous expanse.

Irene’s torso twists a quarter in your direction. It's hard to think that for however long you've been here, this is the first you've seen her face and it's merely a silhouette, not even far enough around that she could look at you out of the corner of her eye. All you can see is her eyelashes, pointed down, to indicate that her eyes are closed. The movement also coyly presents you with the side of her breast, yet another of the endless curves of her body that you have had no opportunity to worship.

One graceful arm comes back. Her fingers find their way to the cleft of her ass and sensually feel their way down. You don't even think to wipe away your drool as you watch those fingers dip inward. They move in and out, unhurried and exquisite.

Your mind reels. Were you not enough? Is she just basking in the remnants of her pleasure? Is she doing this for you to watch? Should you even still be here?

Irene continues to toy lightly with her asshole while at the same time her other hand shakes out her hair from below. 

Your legs twitch. You can't stay here anymore. You practically jump into your skirt, grab your shoes, and you're out the door. You keep the doorknob turned in your hand even as you whip yourself outside so the latch won't click when you close it.

In the hallway, you slump back against the wall. Your body is on fire. You need to be touched. You don’t live very far away. You can get home fast, and if you can’t grab someone on the way, idol or otherwise, you’ll be sitting on a vibrator all night—

The door you just came through opens again. Irene walks out in a shoulderless sweater, just long enough to cover her shorts, and sneakers. How she can look so casual, you’re sure you’ll never comprehend.

She doesn’t turn to leave, though. She steps closer to you, and closer, and closer. The hallway isn’t that wide. Are her steps inches long or is space expanding? Either way, she crosses and stands over you. It doesn’t matter what your height was. Your knees will only hold you against the wall at a height that makes it look like Irene is miles taller.

You open your mouth. You want to ask her to make good on her end of your bargain right now. Or maybe not. It doesn’t really matter. You just want to say something. But before you can, you feel the shock of physical connection. Irene strokes your cheek with the back of her fingers. Her eyes capture yours, holding you steady.

The distance becomes inches, and you’re paralyzed. She doesn’t blink as she gets even closer, but closes her eyes just in time to remove the final gap and touch her lips to yours. She kisses you so softly that you can barely feel it. In fact, the whole of your body seems suddenly light and cloudish, like a breeze could send you away. You even feel a drop of rain leave your eye.

When she retreats, she gives you the coyest smile to ever coy, and as she approaches her full height again, her fingers leave your jawline and the lightness you felt reverses. Gravity crashes your ass into the floor.

Then Irene turns to leave, breaking the line of sight to her eyes, freeing your own to wander. The last thing you see before she turns the corner is that she is not, in fact, wearing shorts under her sweater. You get one last glimpse of your handiwork. Though you can’t see very well and can’t imagine her ass is still gaped now that she’s back on her feet, it is still visibly wet, as are the backs of her thighs and calves.

[broken-glowsticks]

What Once Was Mine

Chapter 9 - A little spoiling

Genre: Childhood friends, Eventual Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Love corner/love triangle, love rivals, Series. Not all chapters will be proofread!!

Warnings: 18+, mdni, mentions of sex and alcohol consumption, additional warnings will be added to individual chapters as needed.

Additional tags: Chapter not proofread, establish relationship, oral sex (m recieving), implied f receiving fingering

Previous • Main • Next

“You're awake already, bunny?” Changbins question rang off tile when he entered the bathroom to shower, stopping when he saw you leaning against the bathroom counter, scrolling through your phone.

“Mhmm, you left me to eat breakfast all by myself. What a meanie.” You pouted, turning from your boyfriend and crossing your arms despite wanting a kiss from him. He knew you well, though, and wrapped you up in a hug, pressing kisses to your cheek and temple.

“I'm sorry, Princess, I thought I'd be back before you woke up.”

“We forgot to shut the blinds last night,” was all you said as you let Changbin pepper you in more kisses.

“That damn sun,” he murmured, trailing his kisses downward.

“Oh, no, no, no. No, you don't mister,” you protested, stopping him and turning to face him. “Don't think you can just kiss your way out of this so easily!”

“Awwww, but bunny-”

“Don't ‘but bunny’ me, how dare you leave me to work out. You can do that any day,” you whined, causing Changbin to chuckle. He knew you weren't really mad at him. “I barely get to see you anymore Binnie, you've gotten so busy lately. So you can't be leaving me whenever I finally get to see you, not even for a second, okay?”

“Yes ma'am,” Changbin grinned, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Whatever can I do to make it up to you, hmm?”

Before you could answer, he was once again peppering kisses all over your face, lingering just a moment longer every time his lips pressed against yours, causing you to giggle. You and Changbin hadn't been dating long, only a few weeks, so you weren't sure if it was the fact that you were in the honeymoon phase or if it was your genuine compatibility, but you were so happy being with him. It felt refreshing being with someone who wanted to be with you just as much as you wanted to be with them. Changbin not only made you feel like the only one you knew you were.

Before you knew it, Changbin had lifted you onto the bathroom counter, his strong arms circling your waist tightly as he continued his kisses down to your neck and chest. You bit your lip and tried your best to steel your nerves, not wanting to let him off the hook so easily, but that was hard to do with his hands slipping under the hem of your sleep shirt.

“Am I still not forgiven yet, Princess?” Changbin asked, his voice a low hum against your pulse. You almost caved right then and there, but you were too cheeky to give in.

“Not yet, I wanted us to make breakfast together, I was going to cook us a special meal for you to say congratulations.” This wasn't a lie.

Lately, the recording studio had been getting more and more clients, all of this stemming from some SoundCloud demos that the guys posted going viral. When aspiring musicians learned that the guys created those beats on their own, in a recording studio that Chan, Changbin, and Jisung all co-owned - something you only learned after you and Changbin had started dating - it caused many flock to the studio, all wanting to work with the viral trio. This sudden spike happened only a week ago, catching the newly dubbed 3racha trio completely by surprise and swamping them with work and unexpected popularity. It was exciting for everyone, of course, but it also was a cause for a lot of exhaustion - particularly for Changbin who was still trying to divide his time between work, himself, and his brand new relationship with you.

You didn't want him to feel bad, but you missed him, and he knew it. The two of you had only started dating and you liked him so much, but it was hard to pin him down for any kind of date, so Changbin did his best to be present despite being so tired. You, however, decided you were going to be supportive.

The three had yet to find a moment to celebrate your success, so you had taken it upon yourself to do something small for each 3racha member individually. You had already done something for your Jisung, him being your roommate making it easy to do so, and today, you planned on spoiling Changbin. Even if he did miss your special breakfast plans to go work out.

“I'm here now. We can still make it together,” Changbin offered, lazily trailing circular patterns along your spine with his fingers, his lips continuing to cover you in kisses.

“Mmh… we can, but I made plans for the whole day, meals included.”

“The whole day?” Changbin asked, pausing his sweet assault to your skin and abruptly straightening himself to meet your eyes. “Princess, did you really plan the whole day just for me?”

“Well, yeah,” you admitted bashfully, draping your arms over his shoulders as your cheeks reddened under his bewildered expression. “3racha has been working really hard, so hard that you guys haven't been able to take a step back and be proud about what you've been accomplishing. So, I decided to set something up for you… which is why I've been so pouty this morning ”

Changbins' face broke into a sweet, shy, happy smile before he buried his face into the crook of your neck, releasing a slew of giddy giggles. You couldn’t help but join in his giggles due to how cute he was being. Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, you melted into his touch as he held you tightly against him, deciding to relish into his touch for a moment. Your plans could wait a little bit longer.

○●☆♡☆●○

Changbin couldn't remember the last time he felt so spoiled. As per your insistence, you turned your breakfast plans into brunch and condensed the picnic you had planned to snacks, sweets, and drinks. You didn’t let Changbin lift a finger, cooking the meal and cleaning up as he showered and dressed for whatever was next up on your list of things to do today. You had laid out Changbins' clothes as he showered, making sure to prioritize that he would be comfortable and take him to an outdoor farmers market that was absolutely filled with vendor stalls. Luckily, it wasn't terribly cold. The season was beginning to turn, and the heat from crowds kept you warm. While there weren't a lot of people there, there were enough that made it so Changbin felt he had to keep a hand on you at all times for fear of losing you. Not that either of you would complain.

Despite feeling tired from all his work, Changbin was completely enjoying himself. There were so many people busking and selling music related paraphernalia, art, trinkets, jewelry, soaps, and food that Changbin couldn't help but leave with a few bags of goodies - some of them you bought for him yourself when he wasn't looking.

When you two got tired and hungry, you found a grassy knoll to lay out a blanket to rest, cuddled in close, placed an extra blanket on your laps and began digging into your picnic basket enjoying the fresh air. It had been a while since Changbin felt like he could just relax, not having to worry about the next moment that may need his attention - not that he could anyway, you had taken his phone and texted Chan and Jisung not to bug the two of you on your date. You refused to let Changbin even think of work today.

“Hmmm, maybe I should have brought the lunch I had planned. I'm still kinda hungry,” you mused as you rifled through your picnic basket.

“We did a lot of walking, so it makes sense. Should we get something to eat from one of the food stalls?” Changbin asked as he polished off the rest of his bungeoppang, an arm snaked comfortably around your waste and head on your shoulder. You checked the time as your free hand scratched gently at his hair, making Changbin let out a small, appreciative hum.

“If you're good, we can head home. It's getting late and we need to pick up dinner.”

“You also have dinner planned?”

“I told you, I have the whole day planned,” you said with pride, pressing a kiss to Changbins’ head before cleaning your trash. “So? Ready to go?”

“Yeah, a meal sounds great.”

You didn't have anything super intricate planned for the food. The real pampering came after.

“A massage?” Changbin's excited tone made you giggle. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.

“Yes, I also have a face mask and some soju for later.”

“Oh my god, bunny, I could die happy right now.”

“Please don't. You haven't even gotten your massage yet. Now go get changed into your PJs, but no shirt.”

Changbins heart leapt to his throat, he wasn't insecure about his body but this would be the first time he's been shirtless in front of you and the idea of you rubbing his bare back made him both nervous and excited. However, he complied, lifting himself from the couch to change as you went to fetch one of the face masks you packed in a large gift bag along with a bottle of soju and a bottle of lotion. Your hands were ever so slightly trembling, but you did your best to swallow your nerves. You were also feeling butterflies at seeing Changbin shirtless, but you also knew he deserved this. He deserved to relax. So, you swallowed down your jitters and made yourself comfortable on the couch as you waited for your boyfriend to come out of the bedroom.

It took him a few minutes of calming himself down, but soon Changbin made his way from his room. The sound of his door opening made you jolt, but you were able to press a smile to your face and pretend all was well.

“I plan on doing your neck and shoulders first, so do you want to go ahead and put on the face mask?”

“Ah, yeah, sure,” Changbin squeaked out as he made his way over to the couch and slotted himself between your knees. Immediately, he had to tamp down salacious thoughts of burying his face between those knees, burying himself instead with applying his face mask.

‘No! we haven't even had sex yet. Now is not the time for horny thoughts!’

“You okay, Binnie? You seem tense.”

“Hmm- what?” Changbin asked with a startled jump. “Oh, yeah, uhm, I'm just… I'm just a little nervous. We - we haven't done anything like, uhm, this before.” He felt so stupid. What was that supposed to even mean? It was just a massage, and even if he was just deflecting from his dirty thoughts, it was still dumb as hell. At least to him. But to you, it was adorable. It made sense and made you feel happy to know you weren't the only one feeling nervous.

“Just relax,” you chuckle, squeezing a dollop of lotion into your hands and warming it up.

“Right. Relax.” Taking a deep breath, Changbin settled between your knees again, trying his best to keep his mind out of the gutter.

In an attempt to help ease his nerves, you leaned down to press a few gentle kisses from his cheek to his temple, grinning at the small chuckle this little action earned you before starting to work on his shoulders. You immediately noticed how stiff he was, the muscles likening stone with how tightly wound the fibers were. The only indication you were being even remotely effective was the grunts coming from Changbin as he tipped his head for you to have better access.

“I'm not hurting you, am I?”

“No baby, I'm okay,” he reassured, wrapping an arm around one of your legs and stroking your leg lightly with his thumb. With this small gesture of comfort, you continued on, working from his shoulder, up one side of his neck, down the other, and finishing with his other shoulder. By the time you were done, your hands were sore, and you needed a break.

“Jesus Christ, Binnie, you were so freaking stiff!” You whined as you shook out your aching hands. “Uhg, I'm glad I decided to do this. You so needed it, " you added with a small chuckle, “feel any better?”

“Tons,” Changbin said with relief, rolling his head around to stretch out the muscles, testing the pliability. “Oh god, I haven't felt this loose in a while. Seriously bunny, thank you,” he said as he took off his face mask, flashing you a sweet smile once it was off. You instantly melted.

“Anything for you Bin, let me just rest my hands a bit, and I can do your back next. Or maybe your chest?”

“My chest?” Repeated, his voice coming out higher than intended.

“O-oh, uh, we don't have to if-”

“No, no, no. We can - it's fine,” he interjected before then clearing his throat. “My chest is fine. We can start there.” Changbin immediately regretted this decision, his nerves lighting on fire the instant he resumed himself between your knees and felt your hands begin to glide over his pectorals, his mind honing in every time your nails happened to scratch against his skin. He could feel the heat from your legs pressing against his sides, and he began to grind his teeth to maintain focus.

A moment of respite came when your hands trailed away from his chest to glide over his deltoids and down his triceps. Your hands repeated this motion a few times before you moved your hands upwards to scratch at the back of Changbins head. He groaned loudly, his eyes fluttering closed as he tipped his head back, relishing the sensation in his scalp while he mindlessly rubbed your legs. But suddenly, the sensation was gone, your hands pausing in his hair. He whined.

“Binnie…” your voice was barely above a whisper when you called his name, causing him to open his eyes to look at you. He expected to lock his gaze with yours, but your eyes weren't on his. Instead, your gaze was trained at the tent in his pants. When he peeked to see what you were looking at, he immediately sat up, swearing as he tried to hide himself.

“I- I'm sorry about that bunny, I didn't mean - I mean - it's - it's just that…” Changbin floundered, unsure of what to say, unsure of anything but his sheer embarrassment. He'd been fighting his libido since the massage started, but he couldn't believe he didn't notice himself growing hard right in front of you. Hiding his face in his hands, he felt like a total ass. He hoped he didn't ruin this.

“Binnie,” you cooed gently, running your hands over his shoulders in an attempt to draw him out, but he didn't budge, so you tried again. “Changbin,” nothing. Slipping off the couch, you wrapped your arms around him, leaning in to whisper into his ear, your heartbeat pounding in your own.

“Would my dweakki like some help with that?” Changbins' spine suddenly straightened, his head whipping from resting in his hands to look at you over his shoulder.

“S-say that again,” his voice was soft, but his voice held a mix of commandment and desperation, making you eager to comply.

“Do you want me to help with-” before you could even finish, Changbins lips crashed against yours, his hand instantly digging your hair to keep you close.

He broke the kiss for only an instant to drag you onto his lap, his arms circling your waist to press you flush against him. His erection rubbed roughly against you, making you mewl into his mouth. Something about this spurred Changbin on to buck his hips upward, grinding deliciously against you.

It was now your turn to tangle a hand in his hair, scratching at his head like you did moments earlier as a sudden sense of boldness caused you to slip your free hand up his abs and over his pecs. The sensation caused Changbin to jolt, breaking this kiss just long enough for you to dive in on his neck. Even now, you still intended on spoiling him.

You kissed up his neck, nipping now and then as you trailed your kisses over his jaw, up to his ear and nibbling at the shell. A shaky breath tore out of Changbin, and he slid one hand over your ass, gripping it hard as he adjusted you on his lap. It took you a moment to understand what he was doing, but soon, you felt him beginning to tug your pants off. In a sudden motion, you pulled away from him, standing swiftly, and began to slip your pants slowly down your legs. Your breaths were coming out heavy and uneven as you once again swallowed your nerves, yanking off your shirt while you were at it. Changbin stared at you in awe, unmistakably lust behind his eyes, but he didn't move. He wanted to see what you would do next.

He was glad he waited. You had paused only for a moment once you had stripped off your shirt and pants, but soon you had dropped back to your knees and were crawling towards him. Or better yet, you were crawling towards his hips. Changbin watched with bated breath as you hooked your fingers into the hem of his pajama pants, tugging the fabric down ever so slightly.

“Binnie, can i…?” Your voice was hoarse, your eyes glazed over with need when you brought your gaze up to his. Changbin reached out to cup your cheek in his hand, his thumb running over your lips.

“Tell me you're okay with this. I'm yours Princess, only yours, do anything you want with me. I just need to know you really want this, that you're not just doing this because you think it's what I want.”

Your thoughts cleared for a moment, and you couldn't help but stare at him. In that moment everything was safe, and you wanted to smother him in kisses, to show him how much what he said meant to you, but you also realized that, no, you weren't ready. Not for everything. Not yet. You hated to admit this to yourself, but you hadn't fully let go of Hyunjin, of all your nights together, of his kisses, his touch, his body against you and his soft breathing as he slept beside you. You still needed time to heal from your love for your Hwang Hyunjin. But that didn't mean you didn't want to give your all for Changbin and this new relationship with him. So leaning up you kissed your boyfriend hard, pouring as much of your emotions into that one kiss as you could before slipping his hard cock from his pants.

“I'm okay with doing this much “ you admitted as you rubbed your thumb gently at the tip of his angry red head.

Changbin choked out a moan, his head tipping back, allowing you to plant more lingering nips and kisses to his neck. He wanted you. He wanted you so badly he had to grip the carpet beneath him to keep himself from lunging at you. But with a few steadying breaths he managed to center himself and enjoy the sensation of your hands on his cock and your downward trailing kisses. If this was all he got for the rest of the night, he could sleep happily with you in his arms, but you had more in mind.

Taking one more peek up at him, you drank in Changbins figure. His tipped back head, his broad, shirtless chest, his abs, his hands that continued to grip at the carpet below, and his thick dick standing proudly at attention. The sight made your mouth water, and before you knew it, you were swirling your tongue over the slit at his tip.

Changbins head snapped up the second he felt the wetness of your tongue and the two of you locked eyes as you slowly filled your mouth with his length.

“Fuck, Princess,” he hissed out, his chest heaving as you pushed him in as far he could go. Changbin fought the urge to buck up into your throat, opting instead to rest a hand on your head as you began to bob your head.

Changbin felt his head spin, your eyes never leaving his as you slid him out and took him in again. Over and over, agonizingly slow. His hand began to grip at your roots the longer you aged him on, especially when you began to run your tongue over his tip every time you pulled him out.

“If you don't stop teasing, I'll hold you down and fuck your throat raw,” he growled through grit teeth. You slowed your pace even more in response, a mischievous glint in your eye. That was it.

Planting his feet firmly flat on the carpet, Changbin gripped your head with both hands and rut upwards. You gagged at the sudden intrusion to your throat, but Changbin didn't stop, continuing to fuck himself into your mouth.

“you asked for this baby, I told you to stop teasing, but you just couldn't leave it alone.” Changbins voice sounded rough, but his hands were gentle in your hair, and his focus was kept squarely on you, looking out for any signs that you may want him to stop. But that grew harder to do as his tip essentially plowed down your throat, your hands gripping his thighs so hard he knew there would be scratches left behind.

You couldn't help yourself though, the sensation of his cock gliding over your tongue making you feel hot. You could feel yourself soaking through your panties as Changbin used you as he pleased. It hurt, it was hard to breathe, but it also felt so good, your body buzzing with excitement. He was getting closer to the edge, you could feel it and so could he.

“I'm so close bunny, fuck, your mouth feels so good. I'm gonna cum in your mouth, drink it all up okay? Don't spill a drop,” he all but commanded through ragged moans. As his grip in your hair finally began to tighten, the pain caused tears to well in your eyes, but you took it all. You didn't want to pull away, you wanted to do good, to swallow him up and live off the sounds of his ragged breathing and erotic moaning. You wanted this and soon you felt Changbins hips beginning to stutter as he filled your mouth with his cum, which you swallowed for him gladly.

Instantly, Changbins' hands dropped from your head, his body slumping against the couch as he basked in the high if his orgasm, shuttering when you popped off and pressed a kiss to the tip of his dick.

“Oh my god, I hope you know how hard it was not to be so much rougher with you,” he breathed out, running a hand through his thick locks. You simply stared at him, your cheeks flushed as you took in how hot he looked. If this is how he looked after some head, how would he look with that after sex glow?

“Bunny? Still with me?” Changbins question pulled you from your daze, and you wordlessly nodded. He couldn't help but smile at the glazed over look in your eye. He knew you weren't new to sex, but a part of him wondered if this is always how you looked after taking a cock to the throat?

“Come here, Princess,” Changbin said, patting his lap. Instantly, you scrambled over to straddle him, but he stopped you. Silently, he guided you to sit between his legs, your back to his chest. “Spread your legs,” your breath hitched, and you whipped your head to look at him.

“Tonight was about spoiling you,” you rasped you but immediately regretted, he really did fuck your throat raw.

“You spoil someone by giving them everything they want,” Changbin murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple and spreading your legs for you, hooking your knees over his. “And I want this,” without another warning, he delved his fingers into your sopping panties.

---------------------------------------

Oooooh I almost missed my self imposed deadline! We actually caught up with my buffer last chapter. But I got a teeeeeeny tiny one going now and hopefully that will compound as I add to it. Idk, we'll see.

Anyway, Binnie lovers, Seolars, come get your fill! Don't worry, Honeys/Hyunjin stans, we'll be circling back to our Hyunnie next week ❤️

@groovygroovyhyunjin @hhwangsmoon @luvyblossom @doggezz@kayleefriedchicken

[dirtbag-linecook-kyloren]

oh sHIT I FORGOT TO POST THIS EARLIER i had an idea for an epilogue scene to an au I haven't written yet and I needed @jaynesilver to see it so I typed it as a warm up for once which i NEVER DO but because it's typed you all get to see it too!!

all you need to know if kylo is a beauty youtuber at abt jeffree star's peak fame levels and Hux is a guy with an engineering job who also streams stardew valley speedruns as a hobby and they're very in love at the end of the fic (that again I haven't written yet)

ANYWAY have 1.6K of beauty blogger au under the cut, I'm gonna keep it out of the main tag bc It's not for a current au and I don't wanna clog it up

Armitage doesn’t read Chat while he’s in the mines, with the small exception of checking to make sure he hasn’t missed a ladder. Most of his viewers are used to this. When the first good luck day of a run comes along, and he makes the loop for foregables around the map, when he skips several cutscenes using exploits and puts years of animation-canceling muscle memory into his keystrokes, Chat dies down, mostly talking amongst themselves. 

Commentary is easier; he can talk and click, talk and type, talk and debate using a cherry bomb on a group of copper ore to save himself a few seconds. 

“I’ll save it,” he tells Chat, shifting in his chair. “If I can use it on iron later, it’ll save even more time.”

This run is going well, so far. It’s his third reset of the stream, but Armitage already has all the copper he’ll need for basic sprinklers and he’s almost through the dark levels. Huffing under his breath, Armitage imagines explaining any of this to his coworkers, can already see the glazed-over look in their eyes. He’s familiar with how they stop paying attention when Armitage talks about his hobby. Gaming, they can understand. Replaying the same niche farming simulator over and over to get the fastest time on a silly leader board? More of a stretch? Do that for strangers on the internet to watch as they pay him money? A step too far. Most of them don’t know what Twitch is, let alone understand why anyone would watch it. 

Kylo shifts in his chair on the other side of the room; it’s quiet enough that Armitage can’t hear it over his headphones, so he doubts the microphone picked it up, but the movement catches his eye. This is their first time having him in the room as Armitage streams. He’s editing, an oversized t-shirt hanging off his shoulder, and Armitage wishes there was time to have more thoughts about that, but he gets one last ladder and moves on to the iron floors. 

“I’m suspicious of how well this run is going,” Armitage says, eyes darting to his second monitor as he works his way through dust sprites. “I’m good at the mines, but I’m saving this seed to see if I can work out a perfection run from it.” 

It’s as he’s reading through other people agreeing that this level of luck is unusual, including a stranger accusing him of using mods as if Armitage would dare bother to cheat instead of just ‘getting good,’ as the kids say. 

BornToSlay: what’s ur skincare routine jesus

The huff of laughter is involuntary; he upgraded his web camera at Kylo’s request, and now it feels like his every fucking pore is captured and streamed. He’s gotten a few comments about it, but beyond technical questions and a single curious person asking why he upgraded, something Armitage lied about, the new image quality has gone unnoticed. Because he’s a good mod, Mitaka has already messaged him that the same user asked about Kylo earlier, and Armitage just missed it. 

They expected this, and they were prepared for this. Kylo’s channel has millions of subscribers on YouTube, he’s arguably a D-List celebrity at this point. Armitage speed runs Stardew Valley as a hobby. They’re operating on different levels of internet fame in different niches, but people have been curious, and some of those people are bound to stop in and watch him break rocks for fifteen minutes while hoping for a bounty of cave carrots. 

Still. Most of them have dropped in, decided his content wasn’t for them, and gone away. Apparently, this user has stuck around for a few streams, and Kylo said it was up to Armitage how much or little they interacted. He’s right there, and the run is going well enough he can afford to waste a few seconds entertaining this line of questioning. 

“My skincare routine is whatever Kylo forces me to do, now,” Armitage says, popping his headphones around his neck. “Kylo?”

When he looks over, Kylo is editing; he’s just also got Armitage’s stream up on his second monitor. He doesn’t bother to pretend he was working when he looks at Armitage, turning in his chair. 

“Someone wants to know what my skincare routine is, and I doubt you trust me to explain it properly.” 

Kylo laughs, and when he stands, Armitage can finally read the text on his shirt, and - Jesus, he’s wearing Armitage’s merch, they’re never going to hear the end of this. He can already see the stream compilations, and Armitage thinks he’s wearing Kylo’s sweater. 

Armitage finally uses the cherry bomb on a chuck on iron and Kylo settles behind him, his chin resting on Armitage’s head and his arms around Armitage’s shoulders. 

“It’s not consistent,” Kylo says, looking at the camera. Armitage can see him in the Streamlabs window, a lazy face of makeup and his hair piled on his head in a messy bun. He looks fantastic, which is to be expected when his entire internet presence revolves around beauty, but Armitage will never get tired of looking at him. Kylo keeps talking, but Armitage tunes him out, focuses on hitting floor forty, getting seven more iron, and then passing out so he can start building furnaces. 

Chat has started speeding up; Armitage doesn’t even have to ask Mitaka to turn on slow mode so Kylo can read anything, he just already does it. Kylo doesn’t have his contacts in, so he shifts his glasses up his nose to read the screen. 

“They want to know if I ever put makeup on you,” he says, and as Armitage makes his way into town to buy seeds from Pierre, he huffs. 

“I’m wearing makeup now,” he mutters, and he knows the mic will pick it up clearly, but he almost wishes it could be an aside. “I’ve been wearing makeup from streams since my first few months. Someone wouldn’t stop talking about my freckles, so I bought some shitty foundation at the grocery store so I wouldn’t have to ban the word.”

Kylo laughs, and Armitage can feel him look down, can feel his thumb drawing circles on his chest. 

EmilysWife: Beauty icon Hux PierreSucks: omg is that how you met

Now it’s Armitage’s turn to laugh. In the few weeks since someone recognized him out with Kylo, the few weeks since Armitage tweeted to confirm that was him, that he wasn’t Kylo’s assistant, it hasn’t come up how they met. They’ve not talked about keeping it a secret, although perhaps Armitage would like some parts of their relationship to stay between just them. 

This seems harmless enough, though. 

“Kylo tells this story better,” Armitage insists, because he loves Kylo, but he’s also cruel. Kylo’s breath is warm against his skin as he hides his face in Armitage’s neck. “Would you like to tell Chat how we met?”

“No...” The words are groaned, drawn out, a tone that perfectly conveys both Kylo’s embarrassment and his willingness to share. He stands up straight, and Armitage misses the press of his body, but he can hear the shuffle of his shirt, can see the chat as his absolutely ancient merch is on display, the screen printing cracked and faded from wear and hundreds of washes. “I was a fan.” 

“That’s shorting them the full story.” Armitage’s tone is teasing as he sleeps, wakes up, loads his furnaces and waters his crops. It’s a cycle of days he could do with muscle memory alone, has done blindfolded for a video on YouTube. “Phasma is a friend of mine, and when she did a video with Kylo, they had to pick up something she left at my house. What were your first words to me, Kylo?” From his spot hiding again, Kylo’s words are muffled. “I’ll tell them, then. He said, and I quote: ‘You talk me to sleep every night.’ That, Chat, was his opening line.” 

Kylo’s head pops up, and Armitage can see his pout on the screen, his playful glare. 

“It worked.” 

Armitage laughs. 

“After seven attempts to make yourself not sound like a stalker, I suppose it did work. Or, alternatively, I didn’t know you were hitting on me until we were on our third date.” Armitage could sound sad here, but he decides against it. He hadn’t been able to imagine a world where Kylo found him attractive. It never occurred to him that Kylo might be interested, so he lusted in quiet, alone at night with his own hand. “I still maintain that those dates don’t count, since I was unaware they were dates.” Kylo’s acrylics dig into his shoulders, and Armitage hisses in mock pain, as if Kylo’s nails aren’t rounded at the tip. “Don’t put holes in your own sweater, idiot.”

Though he attempts to fake angry, the last word comes out soft and fond as he looks up, doing his best to forget they’re on camera for a moment, to forget that he’s streaming this live and that he’ll be hearing about this for weeks. Phasma has already messaged him on Discord; Armitage will deal with her after the stream. 

The press of lips on his cheek is welcome, the loss of Kylo’s warmth less so. He waves to the web camera one last time before heading back to his own desk, putting on his headphones. Half of Chat is talking about his insane luck and all the pumpkins he’s going to plant while the other half still can’t quite believe Kylo was there, and is speculating how many streams he’s been just in the background of. Armitage won’t answer that; he doesn’t want to encourage them to ask for Kylo every stream, though he imagines they will anyway, now that the flood gate has opened. 

KyloAmidala: I normally just watch from the other room, though now I have to settle for replays if my sleep schedule is messed up. 

Armitage can hear Kylo snickering even as he puts his headphones back on.

[outpost51]

The 51 Post

so. bad week, if the prolonged absence wasn’t enough of a clue. but! i did write a... moderate amount. listen, i've been coping with sims.

Contents:

Things You Might Have Missed

This Week's Jams

WIP Breakdowns

From the Skwad

Around the 'Blr

Things You Might Have Missed

get on my taglists for WIP updates, 51 post, tag games, and ask events!

BRHP: Chapter 17 posted; K A DM O S.

Unlikely Adventures, Ch 2 posted; it’s literally in the blurb but it hurt me to write too

BRHP: Chapter 16 posted; baby's first fight pit, and a family secret is revealed.

Murky Water: the 7th entry into the Lighthouse in the Fog shorts; our new Keeper finds her answers.

This Week's Jams

aliens (porcelain remix) || xylø, porcelain [spotify/youtube]

avoidant attachment || libby larkin [spotify/youtube]

fire fire || flyleaf [spotify/youtube]

no care || daughter [spotify/youtube]

let the flames begin || paramore [spotify/youtube]

devil’s teeth || muddy magnolias [spotify/youtube]

WIP Breakdowns

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

hngggg i am. behind. it’s all outlined but my god i was too tired to write much

Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself

[affectionately strangles zadimus]

Blinding Neon, Shades of Grey

[vibrates] hhhhhh i love the orville scene, i forgot how much i love the orville scene, yes i will post the orville scene this week if yall bully me (pls)

Stellar Parallax

elmorise.gif

Lighthouse in the Fog

8th short will be coming out some time tonight or tomorrow, it’s been an uphill battle to write today, anyway things have Developed in a Direction i was not Expecting

In the Works

i have noodled some of those random shuffle prompts. some of you are getting whacked with the emotions stick

From the Skwad

SSSC 006 wrapped up! see the entries here.

@thetrashbagswasteland posted a little too good to be true, a follow up to a little too much like me as their submission for MEBB 2023 and it is rife with snark

speaking of MEBB, @sparatus also published his triumphant return to His Original Bullshit: serpents in the garden and i am living. he also wrote skewed results for FFF208 bc we all need more teia

@uraniumwriting also wrote a submission for FFF208 in which caspian is forced to be a reporter for a day

we have FIVE updates from @teamdilf this week: a sweet piece in which adrien is offered some kittens, ch 20 of in-laws and the grandparents, this drabble that actually ripped my soul out through my eyes, ch 16 of man of many talents, and the first chapter of father, daughter, rocket launchers, and a side of wrex

@bambino1294 dropped the second chapter of upright tower and it was well worth the wait

@equusgirl has given us two more treats for sapphic summer: heaven or hell and if the bird likes it's cage so very much, why is the cage so tightly shut

@commander-krios wrote this squee-worthy despina/theron piece and also this stolen moment between jeff and john

@writernopal wrote a character study with mariel and sartor that i’m still thinking about actually, it’s wild to see how much the characters have developed between the first and third books

@asher-orion-writes posted another installment of fairweather YAY hhhhhh i fucked up and peeked at the last few lines before i read it and now i’m trying to wrap up so i can go eat it

Around the ‘Blr

@tabswrites blessed us with both the second chapter of ascension and chapter 4 of silver sentinels!!!

@vacantgodling’s art comms are open which i will be taking a look at given it does not fall through the holes in my swiss cheese brain, he dropped toph art that i’m OBSESSED with AND a lukewarm rejection sneep bc toph’s bday was the 7th. tell him happy birthday 4 me

bit over a week but i missed it last week — @autumnalwalker announced that the archivist’s journal is COMPLETE, so if you were ever looking for a reason to binge it, now’s the time (the anniversary is july 16th!). find it here @thearchivistsjournal

@captain-kraken dropped a sonhara lore masterpost oh my GOD

screaming crying frothing at the mouth over @liv-is’s fae headshots WOW

@void-botanist gave us the LORE on the revalo tailory & hotel and i will chew off my arm if tumblr doesn’t start giving me gd notifs about this

@artdecosupernova-writing dropped SO MANY shorts this week, so here’s the tag, go nuts; also a post on the planet holeph that i am eating with a spoon

we now have such amazing faces to put with the cast of @elshells’s agent ace (courtesy of @illjustpretend)

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Outpost Updates Taglist: @tabswrites @writernopal @freedominique @asher-orion-writes @liv-is @starknstarwars @captain-kraken

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, DMs, or HERE!

[offtopic-enjoyers]

i need murder duo pls (Ted and Schlatt)

It's a need. Romantic or platonic. I don't care.

guys,, Quesabo spent the last two days obsessively writing this on call and I really hope you enjoy it!! minors DNI!! this is an 18+ post

(EDIT I FORGOT THE CUT!! ITS THERE NOW)

Ps: Bo is praying that god doesn't exist because they're going to hell after writing this

alcohol changes people - a murder duo fic

Here are the Bo-mandated tags-> (its a lot) (bird note here - hopefully the formatting isn't too bad because Bo decided not to add them!! I did it for y'all though.)

Schlatt/Ted, Don't Like Don't Read -), Naked Cuddles, Transmasc character, Trans, Ischlatt, Ted Nivison, Trans Schlatt, boypussy goes crazy hard ngl, interrupted sex, schlatt keeps getting nervous and has to calm down, there is angst, quite a lot actually, the fluff covers it up tho, this is technically smut but I had to get some angst I can't live w out it, trans angst to be specific, they are pretty drunk, dubious consent, consent is cool kids do it, Ted is kinda mean but like in a hot way right? Right, Schlatt is insecure, author is projecting cause it's their coping mechanism, me/your mom, friends to lovers, cause I said so, fuck you, no beta we die like drakes career, I wrote this listening to Kendrick Lamar, I wrote his ALSO listening to Chappell Roan, Schlatt is a canon Charli XCX enjoyer, Tucker Keane mention!!! Lowkey amped up the smut then blueballed not just y'all but myself too wtf is going on, planned rough sex, now it's just actually loving soft sex, its giving mille and moxie, author abuses the shit out of ellipses, fuck show don't tell, using bro/dude/man lovingly, virgin ahh schlatt, cock slut ted canon, they stammer. A LOT

-

Neon lights graced Ted's shin as he moved around the dance floor, occasionally bumping hips with his friend who he dragged here against his will. Schlatt, however, wouldn't budge, despite his intoxication. He swayed slightly, only tapping his foot when Charli XCX came on, and those moments were few and far between. "Cmonnn, dance! It's what we're here for," Ted pleaded. "You wouldn't catch me dead doing that," Schlatt retorted, arms crossing. The music was blaring, so it was hard to even make out what was being said, relying mainly on lip movements to understand, Still, Ted persisted. "Dude.." He began, slinging his arm around the shorter's shoulders, "Not even for me? You're best friend?" Ted gave a short laugh. Online, people thought they were best friends. They, though having known each other for years, weren't actually all that close, but Ted was actively trying to fix that. 

He had admired Schlatt for quite some time, specifically his work ethic. His drive to create, the passion he put into his work, all of it Ted adored. He gave a teasing pout to his friend, his breath thick with alcohol, "You're no fun," he groaned, maybe a bit too loudly, as Schlatt's eyes widened. "Get off me, dude. Just lemme drink and you can dance. I can watch from here," he shook his head, his mess of brown curls cascading over his forehead, beaded with sweat. "Oh, so you've been watching me?" Ted was slightly intrigued by this news. Was Schlatt watching him? Well, he did notice how his gaze always fell to his screen instead of Tucker's when he rambled on about some useless story he had gathered from a road trip. Schlatt's cheeks flushed, barely noticeable under the blue, pink, and purple lights. "N-not like that!" He stammered. Normally, his sharp tongue would have spat back some insult, but he strangely wasn't in the mood to do such a thing. 

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just the way Ted was looking at him. It was different from normal, his eyes trailing up and down his figure. It was ...Strange, but... Not unwelcome. Ted bit his lip. Has Schlatt always been this good looking? He noted how Schlatt's arms pushed up his chest, how his glasses framed his face just so. The two looked at each other's bodies, but not their eyes, still mulling over thoughts. Thoughts of each other. Newer thoughts, ones that were too embarrassing to say out loud. "I see how you're looking at me, Schlatt..." Ted murmured into his ear, breath hot against his skin. Schlatt's gaze darted to the concrete floor his foot was so nervously tapping against. 

"I'm not looking at you in any of the ways you're thinking, Ted..." Schlatt grumbled, his voice low, maybe with shame, maybe with something else. "Well, what are you thinking, hm? Care to share?" Ted asked with a smirk as his hand moved down Schlatt's back to his hip, pulling him in closer. Schlatt thought for a moment Would he be willing to tell him? Willing to risk their friendship? They were both drunk; maybe it wouldn't matter in the morning. Though, his mother's voice rang in his head. He knew this was a bad idea, but he couldn't shake the thoughts forming in his mind. Of him. Of Ted. Of them. 

"Ted.." Schlatt murmured. "Yes?" Ted's head tilted slightly. Schlatt paused, breath hitching on his next few words. "Can we take this back to the car?" He asked quietly, voice shaking: Ted smiled, glad to hear that Schlatt was thinking the same as him. "Of course, babe," he purred, holding Schlatt's hand as he led him out of the bar and to the curb, calling an Uber. Ted still held onto his hand, squeezing lightly. "I can't believe you're already so flustered...* Ted mumbled. "Okay, fuck you..." Schlatt groaned, head tilting back with his hand on his forehead "We'll see..." Ted stifled a chuckle as the Uber pulled up. He opened the door for Schlatt. "Ladies first!" He teased. 

Schlatt froze up, standing there for a moment before getting into the car, not even looking at Ted. He knew he didn't mean it, hell, he didn't even know, but it still stung. His fingers moved over his knuckles rhythmically, trying to stay calm. His mind raced, filled with thoughts of how Ted would feel. Would he be mad? Turned off? Disgusted? His leg bounced anxiously. Ted hadn't noticed how distraught Schlatt was, only moving his hand to Schlatt's thigh, pressing lightly to stop the movement. "It's okay if this is your first time... It is, right?" Ted tried to recall Schlatt vaguely telling him that he had saved himself all throughout high school and college, but all he thought about was how his hand traced up to Schlatt's crotch, hand stopping when he couldn't feel what should be there. Ted's hand moved back a bit. Schlatt looked at him in horror before burying his head into his hands. Ted bit back a gasp. Luckily, they were at his house now. They stepped out without saying anything, not even to the driver, not until they got inside, that is. 

"Are you.." Ted began. "Trans? Uhm.. Yeah," Schlatt finished, voice wavering. His thighs pressed together; eyes glued to the floor. "I'm gonna... uh... Go...Now. I'm sorry.” Schlatt stammered out, turning to leave before Ted stopped him "Wait, don't-" Ted's hand loosely grabbed Schlatt's eyes locking. "I..You're still. " Schlatt couldn't even form words; he was so emotional. This wasn't how he expected the night to go. His intoxication only added to his emotions. "Dude, we've been friends for years, why didn't you say anything?" Ted's eyes searched Schlatt's, looking for any explanation. "I thought you'd be freaked out! I'm sorry!" Schlatt repeated the last bit a few times, tears running down the sides of his cheeks. His hand pulled away from Ted's to wipe his stream of tears. "I'm not 'freaked out I'm fucking bi, dude. You know I wouldn't be weird about it" Led reassured, moving closer to him. Ted's hands met Schlatt's, pulling them away from his eyes and to his hips. Ted slowly cupped his face, Schlatt's gaze softening. 

"So, are we... Uh...Cool?" Schlatt choked out, face red. "Of course," Ted sighed, smiling. "Can I kiss you?" His gaze shifted between Schlatt's lips and his eyes. *Yes..Yes please. " Schlatt nodded before the two locked lips. The kiss was unsteady at first, but grew more confident as Ted pulled him in, fingers running through Schlatt's soft brown hair. Schlatt's own hands moved to Ted's hips, pulling his body against his own. Schlatt opened his mouth slightly, Ted accepting his silent suggestion, tongues wrapping together. Ted tasted like tequila, Schlatt like Benedictines. After a few moments of this gentle exploration, the kiss broke, a small string of saliva connecting their lips. "You taste good-" they said in unison before breaking out into gentle laughter. "At least you like Benedictines.." Schlatt grinned, chest pressed against Ted's. "That I do," Ted's voice was low and gravelly, sending a chill up Schlatt's spine. "Can we go to your room now...?" He asked, a bit antsy now. He felt the familiar heat between his thighs. "Hell yeah," Ted gestured for him to follow. His room wasn't anything special, just his bed, nightstand, a shelf, and a couple boxes still scattered from his move-in Schlatt pulled off his shirt, revealing his scars. They Formed an aesthetically pleasing "w" shape, and Ted pushed Schlatt down onto the bed, lips meeting the marks. "A-a bit direct, don't you think?" Schlatt giggled.

"Yeah, but you probably are enjoying this, aren't you, you little whore?" Ted scoffed as he continued to kiss. "Fuck you, dude! You're the one who started lookin' at me like that... And besides, I saved myself, you slept around, you cock slut," Schlatt snapped before Ted nipped at him. "You gonna be a little bitch the whole time or are you gonna let me blow your back out?" Ted stood up, arms crossed "The second option.." Schlatt rolled his eyes as he sat up to slip off his pants and soaked boxers. "Jesus... We were only kissing, and that was like for a few seconds.. You got that wet?" Ted looked genuinely surprise, then pleased with himself, a shit-eating grin forming. "I didn't know I had that kind of effect over you. I'll keep that in mind for Chuckle Week..." Ted drawled. 

"I swear to god, if you even try to bang me on set, I will fucking kill you-" Schlatt began but was stopped by Ted pushing him back down onto the mattress below. "Keep talking and I'll have you choking on my cock instead of your own words, got it?" Ted was more dominant than he realized. Schlatt understood that Ted wasn't even joking, and he was kinda into that. He bit his lip, nodding shakily. "Good boy. Eyes on me," Ted commanded, slowly slipping off his clothes. The entire time, Schlatt didn't dare take his gaze off of him He was enamored by Ted's slow and graceful movements as his articles fell to the floor. "What, like what you see?" Ted grinned. "Hell yeah. Jesus, I uh.." Schlatt was at a loss for words as his eyes trailed around Ted's body, his muscles, the other bit... "It's really cute seeing you like this... All flustered; god, you're getting me so hard..." Ted mused, face flushed. "Didn't expect this, huh?" Schlatt joked "Not entirely, but I can't say I'm particularly disappointed." 

Ted made his way over to the bed, going down on Schlatt. His lips moved over his neck, kissing deeply with a deep growl. His hands rans up and down Schlatt's sides, nails grazing lightly. They lefts small, gentle scratch marks, hands deft and precise with their movements. Schlatt was quite small under Ted's frame, their biological differences more obvious now that they were stripped down to nothing. Ted had more body hair than Schlatt, and the hair Schlatt did have was that strange silky kind that never fills in quite right. He was slightly envious of Ted's benefits, especially with how he was teasing him right now, his boner pressed on the outside of his cunt. 

"You're such a bastard, y’know that, Ted?" He spat rather bitterly. He knew it was out of Ted's control whether he was born a girl or a boy, but it still felt unfair that Ted was so lucky to have been born the way he had been. Ted, hearing this, was slightly taken aback. "W-what? What do you mean?" Ted used his arms to push himself up, now locking eyes with Schlatt's still red, glassy gaze. Schlatt moved further up on the bed, now resting on the headboard. Ted moved with him, leaning up next to his friend. "I..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I know I keep returnin' to this, but..." He sniffed, still buzzed. "Uhm... Fuck, how do I word this... Well you were born in the right body, y'know, and I.. Well, I wasn't. I know this isn't even your problem, its mine, but it feels so unfair to see you actually happy in your body. And seeing you having..Uh..Fun... Is even worse." Schlatt's hand moved across his knuckles again, one of his many coping mechanisms that wouldn't destroy his body. His voice wavered with each new sentence he formed, eyes not daring to look at Ted's. He was mad at himself for even telling this to him. It wasn't his fault, why should he care? 

Schlatt brought his knees to his chest, leaning his forehead against it. Gazing down, he could barely make out what he hated most about his body. Every day, when he showered, he'd put a towel over the mirror and close his eyes and hum to distract himself while he bathed his more intimate parts. He hated looking, but at the moment, he just wanted to escape Ted's prying eyes. He felt Ted's arm wrap around his shoulder, and a small lass on the top of his head. It made Schlatt want to cry. He hated being treated like he was lesser than what he really was. He let out a shaky sob. Ted pulled him close, hand rubbing slow, soft circles on his back He could hear Ted quietly shushing him, laying the occasional kiss on his forehead in between his soft breaths. "Oh babe..." Ted took his time finding his next words, choosing them carefully. "I can't uh, say that I know what you're going through, but I know it hurts." He paused, running over his next sentence internally before he spoke. "I don't know if this really counts, but I like your body..." Ted murmured, a bit embarrassed. 

He usually wasn't this genuinely sappy with people. Schlatt just sniffed, trying to stop himself from crying, though he still felt hot tears running down his unshaven cheeks. "Can I pick you up?" Ted asked. Schlatt mustered a nod, too tired to argue. Ted's arms hooked Schlatt's legs, and soon, all of Schlatt's weight pressed against Ted's thighs. He pulled him close, Schlatt able to hear Ted's heartbeat. It was slow, and listening to it, Schlatt tried to synch his own breathing with his. At first, it was difficult His breath kept hitching, and his sobs interrupted his efforts, however, Ted's fingers moved rhythmically through his hair, his lips kissing his cheeks slowly and soft. Ted so desperately wanted to say something along the lines of "I'm sorry," or "I didn't know," but he knew his friend. He knew at times like this, when he got too tired to film, or when he couldn't keep up the persona, the best thing to do was to just stay calm, and let Schlatt rest, which is what was happening right now. 

Schlatt finally got his breath to a reasonable pace, his head now sinking into the crux of Ted's neck. His lips kissed along his collar bone, though the angle was awkward. Ted only giggled at this attempt. "Are you okay now?" Ted murmured, still unsure it he wanted to continue with what they were doing before. "Mhm.. Uh, thanks for that, by the way. I really appreciated it, well, more specifically you..." Schlatt adjusted his body so that now he was facing Ted, legs spread over his. Ted picked up on the subtle mood change, hands running up the sides of Schlatt's thighs and to his ass, squeezing gently. "I'm glad to hear that I helped. Speaking of helping, you mind doin' me a favor, babe?" 

Ted let Schlatt's gaze shift down to his cock, Ted letting out some half-laugh as Schlatt immediately became enamored. "Yeah, I can do that..." Schlatt, still coated in his slick, lifted his body up, and then slowly down on Ted's dick, letting out a low and soft groan as he did. Ted felt Schlatt weakly tighten around him. "Fuck, you really did save yourself... You're really tight, shit..." Ted's breath left him with a shudder. Only a moan leftSchlatt's lips in response, shifting his hips around. Ted let out another deep groan as he pulled Schlatt's lips to his as Schlatt's hands ran through Ted's dark brown hair. They sat like that for a few minutes, just letting Schlatt adjust to being penetrated, something he seldomly did. "Are you ready?" Ted murmured into his ear. "Mhm. Can I lay down?" He asked quietly, as if he was nervous to upset Ted, still on edge, just barely. "Yeah, dude, of course!" He stopped, laughing at himself. "What's so funny?" Schlatt asked. The the fact that I called you dude when I'm about to fucking rail you-" Ted managed to get out between giggles, Schlatt joining in. "W-well-Fuck I can't speal wait-" He struggled to form a coherent sentence between chuckles. "I swear I don't mind, fuck" He only laughed harder, leaning back onto the mattress. "So, bro, you gonna fuck me or nah?" Schlatt teased. 

"Oh okay, fuck you-" Ted rolled his eyes as he adjusted his hips and Schlatt's legs, letting his weight fall on Schlatt's stomach. *This okay. babe?" He asked, prepping himself. "Oh, fuck yeah-" Schlatt was cut off by Ted immediately thrusting into him, rather roughly. "O-oh fuck!" Schlatt moaned, throwing his head back. "God, you are so fuckin' tight, mphf-" Ted stifled a whine as he tightened around his dick. His hands moved to Schlatt's chest, thumbs running over his nipples, giving the occasional pinch. "A-ah! Ngh!" He yelped, ass pressing into the blankets below. "T-that's what I love to hear," Ted half chuckled half moaned, his cute little noises sending butterflies into his stomach. He wasn't about to admit how turned on Schlatt's moans made him. Even on the podcast, whenever Schlatt groaned at some dumb comment, in the back of his mind, Ted was always wishing it was him that could make Schlatt groan like that, to scream even. Thankfully, that day was here. 

His cock moved in and out swiftly, Schlatt's drenched cunt weakly squeezing as he did so. His breath was heavy, barely containing the moans forming automatically with Ted filling his body so well. It drove him mad how good this felt. How long had he been waiting for this? 25 fucking years, and god, had it paid off. His mind was hazy as he was pumped through, unable to form any responses when Ted asked him simple questions like, "are you enjoying yourself, princess?" or "you wanna get louder?" His brain did focus on the "princess" bit though, a groan escaping him. "Y-you like that, princess?" Ted seemed just slightly hesitant to genuinely call him that, especially since it teetered on the line of a joke and misgendering Schlatt, though, he weirdly seemed into it, particularly because of how ashamed he was, but lust and alcohol changes people. "Mpf…F-fuck. Yes-yes!" Schlatt whined hand moving to his clit, rubbing rather sloppily. "God, you're so cute like this..." Ted praised, continuing, "So fuckin' adorable, sp-spread out like this for me... It's a shame I g-gotta wreck this c-cute bod-body of yours.." Ted stammered, feeling a familiar high wash over him, precum leaking out of his cock. 

"S-Schlatt, I'm close..." Ted groaned, Schlatt moaning in response. "Hah-please...." Schlatt moaned "Oh god. pleasepleasepleaseplease..." Schlatt whimpered, voice quavering as he applied more pressure to his clit, back arching into the mattress. "Oh god, Ted, I'm g gonna cum! Please! Oh fuck!" He practically screamed, thighs trembling. M-me too, go on and cum, pretty b-boy!" Ted moaned into Schlatt ear. He obeyed willingly, gasping for air as he did so, chest pressing into Ted's. Tears rolled down his cheeks, some shaky sobs of overstimulation leaving him Ted slowed down, letting him catch his breath before he continued. "Y-you okay..? Did I go too hard?" Ted's hand grazed his cheek, thumb wiping away his tears. He only mustered a small headshake, signaling that Ted was in the clear. 

Once he was sure that Schlatt could handle Ted finishing, he started again, Schlatt crying under him. It was a bit sadistic but hearing Schlatt cry because of him only edged him closer to climaxing, his thighs pushing into Schlatt's. "Oh-oh god I'm gonna cum! Oh god..." Ted's eyes screwed shut listening to Schlatt whine as he filled his cunt. His thrusts finally slowed to a halt, and Schlatt was a mess. His skin was flushed red, breathing rapidly and shallow. "Did I go too hard babe?" Ted let out a shaky breath as he pulled out, grimacing just slightly as cum poured out ofSchlatt and onto his bed. Fuck...." he grumbled, turning to Schlatt. "N..Maybe..." He whimpered, knees pressing together weakly. 

Ted stood up, knees wobbly as he slid his arms under Schlatt's body, lifting him up with surprising ease. He carried him to the bathroom, setting him up on the sink, the rest of Ted's cum leaking into the sink Schlatt gasped at the cold of the fake marble countertop, but got over it quickly when he saw Ted turn on the warm shower water. He lifted himself off the counter, barely making his way to Ted, who helped him into the shower. They both cleaned themselves off the best they could, still inebriated. They shared a few sloppy kisses in the shower, and a few outside as Ted lent him a rather oversized sweatshirt, Schlatt drowsily digging through his bag to find himself a pair of dry boxers. He collapsed on the now clean bed, Ted changing out the blanket.  

Ted slid under the covers next to Schlatt who gave him a sleepy smile. "Hey bud, you okay?" He asked, fingers grazing over his mutton chops. "Yeah...God that was so fuckin' good..." He giggles to himself, letting his lips meet Ted's, this time going for a gentle, slow, sweet kiss rather than the more passionate kind the two shared earlier on in the night. "I wasn't lyin' earlier, either... I love you-" Ted caught himself, covering up with another, less vulnerable truth, "your body. I don't mind, I might even prefer it," Ted pulled him closer, wrapping his body around Schlatt's, legs tangling together. "Okay. Well.." Schlatt blushed, burying his face into Ted's shoulder, now covered with a loose t-shirt. He smelled nice, Schlatt noted, basking in the lavender scent that laced Ted's figure. It was very lulling, already tired from his back getting blown out. Ted managed to keep himself from laughing as he heard quiet snores beneath him, as he whispered, though drunk, still honest, "I love you." Schlatt quietly smiled, humming just a bit, falling back to sleep almost instantly.

-

[willshipanything-blog]

Breaking the Rules- Chapter 14

Surprise early posting! Been getting these out every couple of weeks, but this was short and sweet and got done quickly, so enjoy! Y/N needs some advice, so turns to Max- who else does she have?

As usual, minors DNI for content in other chapters, full tags can be found on AO3, along with the fic if you wanna read here.

Complete chapter index here.

Enjoy lovelies 💜✨✌️

Chapter 14- Lay It On The Line

“Yell-lo?”

“Hey Max, it’s me, how’s it going?”

“Scout! Great timing, I just got my phone set up this morning. Ya know, if I’d have known you were gonna miss me this much I wouldn’t have moved out so soon!”

“That’s rich! What was it, one full day before you came back to visit?”

“Ah, touché. Thanks again for dinner. I’d ask for that lasagna recipe, but me trying to make it wouldn't end well!”

“Aw, that’s ok Max. I’ll make double next time so you can take some home.”

“Awesome, you’re the best! So, er- how you doing?”

You weren’t ready to answer that question yet. Mainly because you weren’t really sure of the answer. After pacing restlessly in front of the phone all morning, you finally snatched it up and dialed Max’s new number without really thinking about what to say. 

You did want to catch up with him, see how he was getting on in his new place, and you knew he was off work today. And, despite it only having been three days since he’d vacated the spare room, and only two since you’d last seen him, you missed him. You forgot how lonely and quiet the house could be during the day. No long walks with Samson, no lively (though somewhat incessant) conversation on every topic that came to mind. Max was just so easy to talk to, and you hoped his breezy conversation and effervescence might rub off on you. Still, you dodged answering his question with more of your own:

“I was just ringing to see if you got settled in ok. Are you and Samson liking the new place?”

“Oh sure, those four cardboard boxes were a real workout to unpack. You know I do appreciate Al letting me have some furniture from our old room. It feels… weird, having my own place. But it’s been great so far! But you didn’t answer my question, Scout. How’re you? You sound a little- down?”

Max really was sharper than he looked. Despite his disheveled appearance and hopeless track record on all the 'Jeopardy!’ episodes you’d watched together, he could always sniff out if something was wrong emotionally. Even with a few miles between you, it was like he could sense the disquiet down the phone cord.  

Truth be told, there was another reason you’d rang Max. You wanted to talk about things, and you couldn’t do that with Al. Not right now. You’d looked deep into those soft blue eyes the other day, wanting to ask so many questions- and you’d crumbled, toppling like a house of cards when confronted with those steel blue eyes full of fear. Those unasked questions still hovered on the horizon, like an approaching black cloud, distant but inevitable. You needed a few more sunny days with Al yet, before that storm hit. 

Not that Max would know any secret his brother was harboring (aside from some wonderfully embarrassing childhood stories), but he did know more than most: about who you were, that young woman from the missing posters and the newscasts that most people thought of as a runaway, or else dead and buried somewhere. Max at least knew of some of your anxieties and the emotional strain you’d been through. Even if what he thought you were hiding barely scratched the surface of the secrets between you and his brother, reaching far deeper than he could possibly imagine. 

As long as you didn’t mention anything too specific, surely Max could offer you some solace from your worries about Al. And maybe from your own guilt too- the guilt of staying despite what Al had done, the fact that those things were so easily forgotten when you lost yourself in the intimate asylum that you and Al inhabited. No, if you talked in vague terms, Max might just see those worries as a rocky patch between you and Al- a lover’s tiff, not awful fears about those dark, arcane truths that even you hadn’t quite delved to the bottom of. 

“I’m- I’m ok, Max. I just feel a little funny sometimes. I don’t really have many people to talk to about everything."

“Sure, sure, I get that. You’re meaning the things about you on the news, right? Your family history? I guess that kinda stuff must be tough to try and process?”

“I mean, it’s not just that, though. The situation with me and Al. People wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, ‘cause of the age gap? It’s no big d-”

“Not that. It’s- well, it’s all just a little fucked up. It’s sorta hard to explain when it’s all so- so wrong.”

“Wrong?”

Shit. Had you said too much? You tried to recollect what you’d said in the last couple minutes, analyzing whether any little phrase or wording might have Max questioning the sheer insanity and potential truth behind your relationship with his brother. Trying to replay the conversation in your mind, you must have zoned out when Max filled the silence that stretched across the coiled phone cord. 

“Hey, um, Scout- this isn’t about those masks, is it?”

Your heart dropped in your chest. The cream phone nearly slipped out of your grasp and you felt your face blanch at Max’s bombshell. You’d been pacing with the phone, carving trodden circles in the shag carpet, but that question stopped you dead in your tracks. You were too winded to let out any response other than a shaky, whispered “What?”. As far as feigning ignorance went, it wasn’t wholly convincing, but Max could tell how much that revelation had shocked you, and began backpedaling immediately, racing to explain himself in his hasty, bumbling way.

“Oh, shit, please don’t be upset Scout! Look, I know I shouldn’t have been snooping and I’m sorry, ok- but it was when I had a job interview, I was running late and outta clean shirts, so I went to borrow one of Al’s and I couldn't ask you because you were in the shower-”

“Oh, god. Max…”

“But it’s ok, really! Please don’t be embarrassed. I mean, it’s just sex stuff, right? I don’t want you to think of it as ‘wrong’ just because it’s a little, um, what’s the word…. unorthodox?”

Max hadn’t equated those devilish masks with the Grabber. And why would he- who even knew that the Grabber, the shadowy specter that no longer haunted the streets of Denver, even wore such a disguise? The masks had  never even appeared outside, Al only having chosen to sport those masks inside the house: the ghastly smile; the deep-set frown; the unreadable blank mouth; the horns that crowned each of those wicked expressions. As gruesome as they might have appeared to Max, he’d only linked them to the salacious games that you and Al reveled in. After all, you figured, they were stashed away with Al’s box of tricks, right beside the rope and handcuffs and other little toys Al had picked up over the months…

You were almost too relieved by Max’s assumptions to feel mortified by his discovery of some of your most intimate, shameful games. He wasn’t entirely wrong, after all- he just wouldn’t know the previous role the masks had played for Al’s dark persona. As you thought about the misunderstanding, you wondered if you could use it to your advantage. If you could speak to Max about your guilty conscience, but have him think it was about your unconventional love life rather than your unforgivable choices. Just like you’d planned, where talking in vague terms might still end up with Max consoling you, providing some relief to your sullied conscience.

“Uh, thanks Max. I guess that’s a part of it, you know? Like, sometimes I feel I’m doing the wrong thing, like I should stop.”

“Do you want to stop, or do you want to be there?”

“I want to be there, but-”

“Then that’s all there is. That’s your decision. Not anyone else’s, okay?”

“You’re right. But if other people knew, they’d judge me, or think I was sick or something.”

“Fuck other people, Scout! You can’t live your life doing what other people expect is the “right thing” to do. Otherwise I wouldn’t have slept with half the people I have!”

“Huh?”

“Come on Scout, you saw those photos. I… I like women and men, alright? There’s plenty of people around who think that’s wrong, but honestly I don’t give two shits about other people’s opinions in general. Neither should you.” 

The silence was so palpable you could practically hear the electricity buzz down the telephone wire. You were floored by Max’s admission, even if it did make sense, given those photographs he’d mentioned. Perhaps he’d had the comforting distance of the phone line between you to tell you that fact. Regardless, a small part of you was touched that he’d trusted you with that admittance. But mostly, you just felt even more guilty now. 

Max had made that heartfelt confession on a misgiving, thinking you were wracked with guilt about your own sexual activities, comparing it to his situation, and how people would always hate what they didn’t understand. But they weren’t similar; they weren’t even in the same fucking ballpark, because you’d had to once again skirt around the truth to talk to Max. It felt as if you’d tricked that information out of him. You weren’t really talking about sex, but how was Max to know that? Once again, Max broke the silence.

“You, uh, you still there Y/N?”

“Sorry, yeah. I’m here. I didn’t know that Max.”

“Well, I don’t advertise it to everyone, ya know? I thought it might help you- I don’t want to feel ashamed at doing something that small minded people think is wrong, when that’s just bullshit.”

“Thanks, Max, for telling me. For trusting me with it. Does Al know?”

“Nah- it’s never felt like the right time, and I’m not a hundred percent convinced he’d understand.”

“Oh, ok. I won’t tell him or anything, because it’s not my place to. But Al’s maybe not as… old school as you might think.”

“Yeah, no shit ya kinky fucks!”

“Jesus, Max!”

After that, Max swerved the conversation to lighter topics, even beginning to arrange his next visit to the house (which, thankfully, would be in just a few days- Max had Saturday off to spend with his two favorite people, he’d said). You suggested he bring groceries, and you’d teach him how to cook a few basic dishes, so easy even Max might not mess it up completely.

“Sounds good, Scout- but how do I know you’ll be home?” 

You wondered if Max could hear your eyes rolling sarcastically on the other end of the phone. Of course you’d be in- when weren’t you? Even if Max still didn’t know the exact reasons why that was the case, when he joked about it, it somehow made it feel more normal, less weird and suspicious than it actually was. Strangely, you welcomed the lighthearted teasing about it, but of course had to meet his ribbing with some of your own:

“Don’t worry Max, I’ll be right here and waiting for you- unless you skip town on us before then.”

“Oof, guess I shoulda seen that one comin’”.

“Hey, you made fun of me for being a hermit, I can joke about you being flaky.”

“I guess we all have our flaws, huh? I’ll see ya soon, Scout. Miss you.”

“I miss you too, Max.” 

I miss you too, Max. At least you’d told him one truthful thing.

The dial tone flatlined as Max hung up, and you slowly lowered the phone into its cradle on the side table, still pondering the advice Max had given you. 

You felt simultaneously shittier and better after the phone call. 

Shittier, because you’d wanted some reprieve from all the suspected mistruths surrounding Al, yet had only fallen deeper into your own deceptions with Max. Once again, Max was opening himself up, laying bare his vulnerabilities to assuage your own. He’d opened up about his own sexuality to quell your own doubts about being perceived as ‘weird’ or ‘wrong’ in other people’s eyes. And you’d allowed him to think that your situations were similar, your heart panging in your chest at another necessary lie. Like weeks ago, when he’d told you about the abuse suffered at his father’s hand, telling you about his past after assuming your own family had hurt you when he saw remnants of the scar carved below your collarbone. When you continued to use your damn doublespeak to avoid revealing too much of the real truths, it made you feel dirty. It made you feel like a bad friend, and Max didn’t deserve that in the least. 

But some of what Max had said really had helped, despite him not knowing what had really been bothering you these last couple weeks. Regardless, his advice still seemed sage- it was your decision to stay, and you confirmed that you did want to. Those choices were given freely these days- though a ridiculous part of your brain actually wondered if it would be easier if they were taken away, like before. When Al had removed the choice, you didn’t have to make any impossible decisions. But that was madness, and you weren’t under the illusion that things had been better when you’d resided in the basement against your will. 

Freedom meant making difficult decisions, then. You loved Al enough to make those tough choices. For now, he’d given you no cause not to believe him about the house across the street. That worry was only an itch in your brain, a tingle up your spine. No proof, no evidence that he was lying, even with his villainous distractions. After all, Al had always liked to concoct new games to keep things interesting. Perhaps it was time to initiate one of your own, if only to keep your mind from straying into dangerous territory again.

[that-howlingdrakesng]

A White Lie and A Stuffed Rabbit (Pit Bonnie x Reader) - Chapter 1

A/N: Okay guys. You all asked for it and the story will be posted on Tumblr as well. I'll tag certain chapters according so that you'll know what to expect as you go.

You've heard tales about Freddy Fazbear's pizzeria and their history of children gone missing within their establishments. Of course, being the curious thrill-seeker that you were, you decided to visit the location. However, you found out that the Fazbear pizzeria was the newly remodeled Jeff's Pizza. 

The second you set foot inside, you were being hunted down by an aggressive, man-eating animatronic. To make matters worse, you're trapped in 1985 because of a dirty ball pit you fell into and the yellow rabbit has taken an interest in you as a mate. 

Maybe this was a bad idea after all…

Chapter 1: Into the Pit

This evening was the perfect time for a casual ride through the town. As you were pulling up your Hayabusa from the garage, you began to wonder about the old news articles you've read online. There were so many of them relating to the missing children from the 80s. All last seen in Freddy Fazbear's pizzeria. It was sad to think that a fun place meant for kids and parents could turn into a dreaded nightmare. Of course, the incidents didn't stop there. Apparently, the Fazbear franchise has a dark and infamous history of having children winding up missing as well as a few adults. They were presumed dead, but the authorities could not recover the bodies. They were nowhere to be found.

Setting those thoughts aside, you turned on the ignition on the motorcycle and kicked the gear up to first before riding off into the road.

Riding a Hayabusa on the street was completely different from riding your old Ducati Panigale. For starters, it was much faster and harder to control. Each time you slowed down to make a turn, you quickly forgot how sensitive the throttle was on the bike due to the four cylinder engine and high torque. You have no idea how people that owned a Hayabusa could handle driving it on the street. This feels like it's made for a race track or something.

As you were driving through one of the neighborhoods, you happened to spot your old neighbors in the driveway with their kid. You gradually came to a smooth stop in front of their house, revving your bike and honking your horn to get their attention.

“Jake! Marissa! Hey!” you shouted, waving your arm in the air.

One of them looked over to their side as they were getting out of the car, recognizing the flashy riding gear you'd usually wear during your night ride.

“Oh my God, is that Saffie?” the blonde woman gasped in surprise, watching you pull up to the driveway with your black sports bike.

Carefully, you removed your cat-eared bike helmet and placed it on your seat. You turned the ignition key to the off position before walking over to the woman with your arms open for a hug.

“Oh! It is you!” she said as she accepted the hug with a warm smile. “I thought I'd never get to see you again after you moved.”

“Well, I figured I'd stop by while I was riding through town on my new gently-used Suzuki Hayabusa,” you said, patting on the side fairings of your motorcycle. “Man, it's been like what? Four years since we've graduated from college?”

“Seems that way,” the woman laughed. The husband walked over to the two of you, fixing his blue fitted shirt. “Honey, you remember Saphelia? Our old neighbor?”

You greeted with a small wave of your hand and a smile. “Hey, Jake. Long time, no see.”

“Oh, wow! I can't believe it,” he laughed. “Saffie the stunt rider. Back in town.”

“Ha! I wish!” you snorted. “I haven't done any stunt tricks since I left to get my master-level certificate.”

“Oh c'mon! You can't tell me that you didn't try to pull off at least once while you were studying abroad.”

You shook your head. “Nope. Not one,” you lied. You actually practiced several stunt tricks from watching a French motorcyclist on YouTube. And that was only when you had any downtime.

“Ah whatever. Maybe one day, you'd teach me how to ride one of your motorcycles,” the man suggested with a laugh.

“Absolutely not, Jake.” Marissa, the blonde woman, rejected the idea of her husband riding a motorcycle. Especially when they have a child to take care of. “Driving a car is enough. I don't want you to get comfortable with the idea of getting a motorcycle just so you can pull a wheelie down the street.”

“She's right, man,” you shrugged, smirking at her statement. “You're better off in a car. I got my Ducati wrecked by some ignorant cager because he tried to run me off the road.”

“Oh, not the Ducati,” Jake said in a mournful tone. “Those things cost a fortune to replace. And all that detailing you got done on that bike.”

“Yeah… Yeah,’’ you sighed. “That Panigale was irreplaceable. It was given to me by my bestie when I got out of college. But hey, I'm alive, aren't I?”

While you were chatting with your old neighbors, their kid, Oswald, came up to them asking when were they going to come inside the house to start dinner. As soon as he mentioned it, you checked the time on your smartwatch and saw that it was nearly 8 o'clock. You never realize how much time you've spent talking to them and you apologized profusely to the couple. They told you that it was fine and they enjoyed their conversation with you. Marissa happily invited you to stay over for dinner, but you had to decline the kind offer, explaining that you have somewhere to be. Although, you would be happy to come by for a visit the next time you were in town.

As you were getting ready to get back on the road, you noticed their kid, Oswald glancing at you with a sulking expression before going inside the house. Strange. It was a little unusual for him to not be his cheerful self. Did something happen while you were gone? Come to think of it, the town you once knew was slowly dying out. Buildings were abandoned, businesses being forced to close down, and even the neighborhoods were less than lively. Did it have something to do with the mill being shut down?

You searched up the address of the old Fazbear pizzeria on your phone and noticed something peculiar. In one of the online articles you found, someone bought the old building and renamed it to “Jeff's Pizza”, much to your surprise. You had no idea that the place you would always visit during your college years was actually the infamous Freddy Fazbear's pizzeria. Now you were even more eager to pay that place a visit. And maybe mess with that half-assed owner, Jeff.

You looked up the address to the pizza place and followed the directions on the GPS. When you arrived there, the place was just how you remembered it. However, something felt off about it. You couldn't put your finger on it, but you didn't want to think about any bad possibilities that could happen.

You parked your bike to the side of the entrance, turning the ignition key before taking the key itself out. You removed your helmet and hung the strap of it on the handlebars, still unable to shake off this feeling of unease. You kept telling yourself that it's fine. Everything is fine. You're just overthinking things as usual.

As you approached the two doors, you peeked inside to see small trails of blood on the floor. You really hoped that it's actually pizza sauce and not blood. Maybe Jeff was half-asleep while he was making pizza, you thought. Yeah, that could be it. 

Without any hesitation, you pulled the door open and stepped inside the building. There weren't any people here at this hour so you were the only one here for right now. You approached the counter and made a small glance at today's menu. The prices for the pizza were fairly cheap but if you had to guess, there's a chance that the ingredients to make it were cheaper. Which was almost never a good thing.

“Hello? Jeff?” you called out. There was no response. “Jeffy? It's your favorite customer, Saffie. I wanna order some pizza before I head out to the track.”

Once again, no response.

You let out a sigh. Guess you could explore the place to kill some time.

You began with one of the rooms on the left. Usually, the doors were locked for some unknown reason. This time, however, the red double doors were gone. As if they were torn off the hinges. This gave you the opportunity to look inside the room that was previously locked behind closed doors.

Upon entering, you immediately noticed the flashing colors on each of the arcade cabinets. Each with a different game title. You couldn't believe it. All this time, Jeff had these slick arcade games that he had locked up in this room. Not only that, this further proves that this location was previously the old Fazbear pizzeria. While you weren't very big on retro arcade games, the least you could do was to try one of them out.

You glanced through each of the arcade cabinets until you settled on a Galactica-themed shooting game. These cabinets already had the token system taken out, which was really nice for binging on a game for hours at a time.

The moment you started playing, you were hooked on it. It took a few tries to get a high score which lasted for a good thirty minutes. You had the patterns locked down, maneuvering the joystick with ease while rapidly pressing the buttons on the cabinet. You were so close to beating your previous high score until you heard a loud crash, startling you out of deep concentration with the game. Unfortunately, that one slip-up caused you to get hit by a stray bullet and lose the game. 

“Dammit, I was so close,” you groaned, not wanting to restart your whole progress all over again.

Your focus now was on that loud crash you just heard. It sounded like it was close by. Maybe Jeff was roaming around the dining hall. You made your way back to the counter and into the main dining area. No sign of Jeff anywhere, you thought. Where could he be?

There were a few things that you noticed right away. The same splotches of blood you've seen through the window of the door. The trail of dried up blood leading up to the room with the dingy old ball pit. Panic started to seep in, not knowing if you should call the police or investigate it for yourself. No. You shouldn't be jumping too far ahead to conclusions. You had to check for yourself before going to the authorities. Who knows? Maybe it's not such a big deal. Probably someone getting hurt and just trying to patch themselves up.

In the ball pit area.

…Heh.

You began to inch closer to the door, despite every part of you wanting to run the opposite direction. You tried to calm yourself as best as you could, thinking that nothing bad is going to happen. You had to lie to yourself in order to keep moving.

Eventually, you found yourself standing in front of the door, left open by someone who could still very well be in the building. Shit. Why didn't you bring a knife with you? The one time you decide to leave it at home is when you actually have a need for it.

You took a deep breath as you quickly barged into the room, mentally preparing yourself for the worst. Your eyes frantically darted around the dark room, searching for anything that seemed out of place. It was hard to see with little lighting creeping through the door frame. The occasional flickering of the lights did help you gauge where you are in the room. For starters, the gross ball pit was still here and you were a few feet away from it. Don't want to accidentally fall in and get a skin infection from it. Wonder why Jeff hasn't gotten rid of it yet? Another thing that caught your attention was a giant yellow rabbit suit sitting in the corner across from the ball pit. Was that thing always here?

You cautiously approached the yellow rabbit suit, inspecting for any sign of wear. To your surprise, the suit looks fairly new aside from the unsettling black streaks from its eye sockets. It did come off as a bit creepy when you first saw it but up close, it looked kinda cute. Although, it's probably because you had a soft spot for rabbits. Especially the giant Flemish ones.

You wonder if Jeff was ever planning on using this suit for his business. As a way to draw the kids' attention perhaps? You laughed at the thought of Jeff dancing around in a yellow rabbit suit in a silly manner and saying things in the most ridiculous voice ever. You would never let him live it down. Come to think of it, you haven't ran into Jeff the whole time you've been here. Then again, you also haven't checked all the rooms. He could be somewhere in the back slacking off, jacking off, whatever he's doing at this time of night. Might as well check the other rooms while you're here. But before doing just that, there was one thing you wanted to do.

You pulled out your phone and giggled to yourself. “Hope you don't mind a little photoshoot, big guy,” you said with a grin.

You kneeled down next to the rabbit suit and snapped a few selfies with it. At one point, you went a little “risque” with the pictures, going as far as seating yourself on its lap and positioning its hand right over your crotch. Slowly, you unzipped your jacket to where it was exposing your given assets before you took another photo. You grabbed the other hand that was on its side and placed it on your breast, holding it in place with your own while you snapped a few more.

“Oh yeah. That's it, big guy,” you spoke in a seductive manner. “You like this, don't cha, you dirty rabbit?”

Satisfied with the pictures you have taken, you sat up from the rabbit's lap, dusting your pants off before heading out the door to the dining area. You couldn't believe you got yourself worried over nothing.

“Well. Time to find that loser, Jeff,” you said to yourself.

You started off with the kitchen where he would normally be to make the pizza for his customers. The room was empty and the oven was turned off. Guess he's not here. You continued to search and explore each room, including the ones that were previously locked. As you roamed the party hall, your eyes wandered over each poster dedicated to the old animatronics that performed here. One was a brown bear with a top hat and bowtie, another was a blue bunny with a red guitar, and a yellow chicken with a bib that hung around their neck. You did remember reading about the animatronics being a band of some sort. A neat idea for an establishment, but why didn't they include a drummer as well? Kind of short-sighted of them to leave out a drummer in a band. 

After browsing through the party hall, you went over to the storage room in your search to find Jeff. The next room connected to this one was the security office, the only place left where Jeff could be. If he's not in the security office, then something was definitely wrong. 

You knocked on the door and called out his name. No response. You knocked on the door a little harder this time hoping to get some kind of response. Nothing.

“Alright, I'm coming in,” you announced. “You better have your pants on.”

You turned the knob of the door before pushing it open. You stepped into the dimly-lit office, expecting to see the lethargic owner in his seat at the computer. Unfortunately, he wasn't there.

He was nowhere to be found.

This was bad. If he's not here, then something must have happened to him. You needed to leave this place and call the police while you still can.

You made a full sprint out of the office with haste, rushing down the halls and to the main counter where the phone is stationed. You quickly dialed the number and you waited for them to pick up. A few rings later, you hear a female voice on the other line.

“Hello? 911. What's your emergency?” the lady asked.

“Yeah, I would like to file a missing report,’’ you informed the dispatcher as calmly as you could. “I think something bad happened and I don't know where he could be.”

“Okay. Can you give me the name of the missing person and your location?”

While you were in the middle of giving them the information the dispatcher requested, you felt yourself being yanked by the collar of your jacket. You let out a scream as you were flung back towards the wall and collapsed onto the floor. In your dazed state, you glanced up at the large yellow rabbit. It stood well over seven feet, much taller than a normal person. You could hear the unsettling groans from this unusual thing. It sounded as if it was struggling to breathe.

“Hello? Hello? Are you still there?” the dispatcher asked on the phone.

Once you recovered from being dazed, you slowly pieced together what was happening. This was the same yellow rabbit suit you saw at the ball pit area and it was walking. There's no way this thing was alive. It has to be Jeff playing a cruel prank on you.

The yellow rabbit picked up the phone and set it back on the receiver before snapping its attention to you.

“Holy shit,” you muttered quietly to yourself.

You had no idea how to process all this. You were frozen in place out of fear, legs shaking with your eyes trained on the walking suit in front of you.

“O-okay, Jeff,’’ you began despite the hint of fear in your voice. “Y-y-you got me good. Now why don't you t-take off the suit?”

The rabbit simply stared at you with its glowing blue eyes, unsure of your request.

“No, seriously. Take off the damn suit,” you demanded. “You're starting to scare me with that thing. If this is about the prank calls and the packages, then I'm sorry, okay?! You didn't have to take it this far!!”

The yellow rabbit began approaching you, emitting a series of garbled noises that didn't seem remotely human. You backed up further against the wall, eyes fully locked on the person in the suit. The rabbit caught your strong gaze and stopped inches away from you. At this point, you were trembling. You didn't know what to do and you were terrified. You should have left while you still could.

“Don't make things any harder for us…” the rabbit warned. Its voice when it spoke didn't sound human, but rather robotic and distorted in its speech.

Suddenly, the yellow rabbit grabbed the front of your jacket's collar, pulling you up to where you were at eye-level with it. You were pinned against the wall with your feet dangling below you. You attempted to pry its grip from your jacket, but you could barely move a single finger. The rabbit took notice of this and growled angrily at you. This was enough to make you stop, your hands clutching over its thick wrists.

“...Jeff? Wh-what are you going to do to me?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

The yellow rabbit stared at you for a moment before opening its jaws, revealing a row of sharp teeth behind its blunt ones. Large as daggers and sharp enough to pierce the skin and muscle down to the bone. You didn't see a human head inside the mouth of the rabbit but instead its black, tendril-like tongue and near pitch-black throat. As you found yourself gawking inside its dripping maw, you soon realized that this yellow rabbit was not at all human.

“Oh shit. You're…not Jeff,” you gasped. You were in serious trouble. And you needed to get away from this thing fast.

In a panic, you brought one of your hands over to the zipper and tugged it all the way down in hopes of escaping the creature's grasp. With a stroke of luck, the zipper of your jacket became undone and you let your arms slip out of the sleeves, causing you to fall to the ground. You quickly scurried to your feet, away from the yellow rabbit while it still had the jacket in its hands. Every nerve in your body told you to run. This time, you did exactly that.

The monster bellowed at you, chasing you down in full pursuit. You darted towards the next room where the old party hall was, hoping to shake them off in the next room. As you made your way down the party hallway, you rushed over to the door leading to the arcade. You tried to turn and pull on the knob but unfortunately, it was one of the few doors that was still locked in this place. You had no choice but to run to the other door that led to the storage area and there was no telling when that animatronic would catch up to you. With what little time you had to think it over, you took a chance and ran straight for the other door.

Just as you were about to grab the door handle, the creature had already made it into the room. You were not about to get killed by a giant stuffed rabbit, you thought, frantically yanking the door open to get to the storage area and to the arcade.

You ran as fast as you could from the lagomorphic creature, who was hot on your trail. You figured you could circle back to the main entrance and through the dining area once more. The only way you could lose this thing was to find a place to hide and hope that it will lose interest in you. The vents were too narrow for you to hide in and there's a chance that you could get stuck there with no help. You certainly weren't going to take a chance by hiding in the security office with no back-up plan. That leaves you with the dirty ball pit. Your skin crawled at the thought of being in that gross ball pit, but you needed to focus on getting away from the creature and you didn't have time to be picky about it.

Ultimately, you chose to hide in the ball pit area.

You grabbed the nearest chair closest to the door and hurried inside, wedging the chair's backrest underneath the doorknob. That would at least buy you some time to hide before the yellow rabbit breaks the door open.

Your eyes wandered over to the ball pit, already having second thoughts. While it was pretty gross to look at, you couldn't help but notice a few things about it. The netting that hung over the ball pit was snapped apart and sliced in several places, traces of blood painted on the wooden edge as well as on the colorful plastic balls. Next to it was a broken flashlight, seemingly smashed to pieces. Someone was definitely here. And you had an idea on whose blood it might be.

Oh no. Is Jeff…?

No. That can't be it. There's no way you would believe it. Who in their right mind would want to hurt Jeff?

You didn't have time to dwell on that thought when you heard heavy footsteps approaching the door. Shit. You needed to hurry and hide quickly.

“Well, here goes nothing,” you muttered to yourself before jumping into the ball pit.

You sunk below the surface of the dust-covered plastic balls, lights flashing periodically in the room. You waited for the yellow rabbit to enter the room, hoping that it wouldn't find you in the ball pit. Dust began to land in your eyes, forcing you to shut them tightly. Ugh. You really hope you don't contract a fungus infection after this.

You kept yourself still, being mindful of the sounds of your breathing. You waited for the lagomorphic creature to enter, your eyes still shut from the dust. At first, everything seemed too quiet. As if time froze in this very room. You continued to wait in the ball pit.

And you waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Why hasn't that monster broken into the room yet, you wondered. Have they already given up? It was a possibility you hoped to believe, but you couldn't take any chances of getting caught.

After several minutes had passed, you eventually grew tired of waiting in the ball pit and decided to take a peek out of your less-than-ideal hiding place. Right off the bat, you noticed that the chair you used to hold the door was gone. Not only that, the room was entirely different from when you first entered. The faded yellow wallpaper was replaced with the cloud-pattern pastel mural and checkered tiles along the lower walls. A few small play structures scattered around the room, presumably for the younger children to play on. The thing that stood out to you the most was the safety netting that hung behind the ball pit. The netting was a torn, dangling mess when you first saw it. Now, it's as if it was never damaged. You also noticed the condition of the ball pit itself, seemingly brand new and free of the dust that once settled there. You had no idea what was going on, but at least you managed to get away from that dreaded bunny.

You slowly rose up from the ball pit, taking in this strange new environment that you were in. Carefully, you swing your leg over the edge onto the padded floors before doing the same with your other leg. You adjusted the straps of your bra as you looked around the room awe-struck with child-like wonder. Now you were curious to see what the rest of the place looks like.

As you walked out of the pit ball room and into the main dining area, you couldn't believe what you were seeing. The whole dining area was fully decorated with cut-out images of pizza as well as posters of the three animatronics that you've seen in the party hall. Behind you were those very same animatronics on the posters stationed on stage. They were a lot bigger than they were in the article pictures. This was insane. To be able to see them up close and in person made you feel absolutely giddy in a way.

Unable to control your excitement, you pulled up your phone and snapped a picture of the animatronics on stage. You then ran up to the stage and took a selfie with each of the robotic band members of the group. After taking a group selfie with them, you stepped off the stage and glanced through each of the photos you took, including the ones with the possessed yellow rabbit. In one of the photos, you noticed the glowing blue eyes staring right into the camera. Almost aware of what you were doing while you were goofing around with the selfies.

A thought crept into your head which made you shudder. That creature could have been asleep or deactivated for some time and you just happened to awaken it from its resting state. Did Jeff knew about this thing? Is that why he had that ball pit area closed off? Apparently, there's a lot more to this story than what you know.

You heard a creaking sound, followed by heavy footsteps echoing from one of the rooms. Your eyes were fixated on the room with the ball pit, hoping that no one is in there. When the door opened, behind it revealed two glowing blue eyes peering from the shadows. It lets out a dark, glitchy laugh that would send chills down your spine. You could feel the blood drained from your face as you watched the large lagomorphic creature emerge from the room. No. That's not possible, you thought. How did it manage to follow you through the ball pit? Unless…

Unless it knew you would dive into the ball pit to hide from them. And you ran straight into its trap.