#NO ONE TOLD ME THEY DID THIS. weeks of research too what the hell

[ryujiinxx]

CONTENT WARNING FOR ROACH CANNIBALISM/ANIMAL DEATH

this morning while misting their travel tank one had fallen onto its back from the cork bark when i took it out and was unable to get up, and was struggling to move - i noticed it was trying to molt, but having difficulty so after misting i set it down on one side of the tank with some apple right next to it so it wouldnt go hungry.

after around 45 minutes of monitoring, i see another roach comes by and starts curling itself on top of the first roach. i had NO clue what it was doing because it was taking way too long to be trying to get to the piece of apple. after a good while, i took a flashlight and my stomach dropped; i saw the first roach partially hollowed out as the new one was eating it.

once this roach had its share megatron came along and ate literally EVERY PART of the remains except the last two or three abdominal segments. im incredibly disappointed, but i found out that failed molts like that often result in death anyways. im glad that such a circumstance as this was how i realize that the roaches need more protein, but still disheartened that i had to lose a roach at all. under the cut are some pictures of the whole ordeal, but heavy content warning for roach gore and cannibalism.

the first image was how i found the roach trying to molt, legs hardly working. the rest is pure chaos from megatron and another unnamed roach eating away lol

ive already ordered some flukers cricket diet and tetramin tropical flakes for them, but for now i scooped a few kernels of kibble from my dog food bin and scattered them in there to try and prevent another mishap. hopefully once they return to school in their larger tank the space will also prevent them from doing anything like this.

[henry7931]

Freaky Friday Block Part 2 Max & The Thomas Family

Max:

I’m sitting here trying to do some kind of research on this situation and I don’t even know what to freaking google. I mean I could just type in, “help, I woke in my friend’s dad’s body. Oh and by the way said friend is now his little brother.”

I don’t know, I’ve been listening to Jacob and Conner go back and forth for hours now. And Mr. Thomas is much help either.

I’m just glad my family was out of town so they didn’t have to deal with this whole body swap thing.

The craziest part is that we learned quickly that ‘we’ aren’t the only ones. I think half of the block is going crazy right now from waking up as someone else.

Hell, I saw that college guys a couple houses down walking one of their roommates. He literally swapped bodies with a dog! Nuts right?

I guess I can’t be too mad with Mr. Thomas’s body. Hell, I’m hoping once some of the chaos settles down I can actually enjoy all of this.

Wait a minute, where is Mr. Thomas? He left over an hour ago and said he’s just going to change and come back….

Mr. Thomas

Fuck I’ve been stroking this thing for hours now! I can’t stop!!

I know it’s awful of me especially this being the body of one of my son’s friends… but you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a whole house to myself? Hell, I haven’t been on a date in 10 years.

Ever since my kid’s mother left me after I came out to her I’ve had a hard time finding anyone to date.

But sitting here in this young handsome body… playing with this cock. Oh my god…

I keep trying to head back to my house but I’ve truly lost track of time. I’m just too horny right now.

I wonder… oh here it is! I knew Max was gay, he had Grindr already downloaded.

I take him off of discreet and update his bio: looking, ready to host.

Shit, his parents don’t come back for another week. I can at least enjoy myself at night.

Back at the Thomas’ Home:

Conner:

This is so freaking cool!! Not only did I wake up this morning inside my big brother’s body but now I have his room too!!!

I told him this morning since I have his body, that I get his room. He was so flipping mad about it but I can’t fit in my old bed anymore.

We screamed at each other for a long time. But I ended up picking him up and carrying him in my much smaller body back to my room.

He waited outside the door throwing a tantrum for a bit before giving up. So looks like I won!

Now I have an entire bathroom to myself and I even have my own cellphone (which I’m surprised he didn’t try to get from me.)

Now I think I’m going to take a shower because my new body is stinky!!!

I take off Jacob’s sweat pants he slept in and stopped at his undies.

I wonder what this looks like…

I yank them off and Jacob’s weiner comes floppin out. He has a big bush of hair right above it and weiner is way bigger than mine.

I start playing with it for a few until it gets hard.

I walk into the shower and start rubbing some all over my new muscles down to Jacob’s stinky feet.

Jacob’s feet are always stinky especially after practice. Sometimes they will stink up our entire house.

I weirdly like the smell…

I wash in between his toes and work back up his hairy legs.

I wrap his strong hand around his weiner and started tugging at it.

It felt so good that I couldn’t stop!

I tugged and tugged faster and faster…

I started to get really warm inside…

That’s when I started squirting all over the shower uncontrollably.

I was so out of breath that I laid on the shower floor for a few.

As soon as I could stand back up, I turned off the water and dried off.

I walked over to the mirror and stared at my big brother’s face that I now controlled.

I hope I keep his body forever!

*knock knock*

“Conner it’s me, you have my phone and I want it back,” I hear coming from the door.

I walk over to the door and open it up.

“I don’t think you’re getting this phone. Actually, it’s my phone now. I have this body which was your body. But now it’s mine. So my phone, my room, and now my body. Also, I think it’s best if you call me Jacob for now. Understood little bro?”

Jacob was so angry. He tried to yank the phone out of my hand but I just dangled it over him.

“So close on getting it!”

I jumps for it again and laugh at him.

“Well this has been fun but I’m going to lock my door now.”

I closed the door in his face and went back to his bed.

I pulled my towel off and grabbed one of his dirty socks off of the floor. I laid back on his bed or I should say my bed now— sniffing his dirty sock and gently playing with my new hairy balls.

Max:

So no one else seems to care right now about trying to figure out why we are all in each other’s bodies. So I decided to stop caring as well and just enjoy my new hot daddy body.

Starting with these sexy ass feet! God, I’m already getting hard!

My initial plan was to take a shower and I got as far as stripping down and grabbing a towel.

Unfortunately, I’m so distracted by these feet and Mr. Thomas’s big hairy ballsack.

I eventually get to the shower, still have not jerked off yet.

It’s fun seeing Mr. Thomas hard throbbing cock leaking so bad…

I’ll fondle it for a few and stare down at his feet again.

God I love them!! If we ever switch back I wish there was a way I could take his feet with me. Or at least get some visitation of his lower half.

Hell, this maybe my forever body. I may be Daniel Thomas forever.

I dry off and sit in the steamy bathroom… talking dirty to myself.

I work my way back to his bed jumping on it. I hold his feet up the air again.

I pull the towel off completely and rub his hands all over his hairy butt cheeks down to his hole.

I finally start jerking his dick that’s now throbbing so bad it immediately leaks.

“Mr. Thomas, you’re such a beautiful man. I love the way your cock feels, I love your hairy ass, your big feet, ohhhh… your dick is about to burst!”

“Oh god!!! This feels so goooooddd!!!”

I pull at his hair and start moaning incredibly loud.

“IM CUMMMMINNNNGGGGG FUUUUUUCCCC”

Cum sprays all over me and I’m covered in his cum. I take bit off of his chest and taste it.

“Yum!”

I lay back in his bed naked and grinning knowing that in a few hours I’m going to do it all over again.

[nyx-is-missing]

Could u write one for clarisse where she's impressed with femR bc of how good she is at fighting and all and clarisse finds her incredibly attractive bc no one has challenged her the way R does?

And like a bit of pining until the two confess

Thank you!!

Breathtaking or taken

Clarisse la rue x fem!reader

Summary: when Clarisse finds a opponent worth of her, she is breathtaken.

Warnings: none really, just fluff, not a descriptive fight scene on sight cause mama dont know how to write that, so just fluff fluff, and mutual pining fluff

(Do i need to say its not proofread? No? Thank you)

Here is one of the main benefits of being a daughter of Athena, you'll know.

DIfferent from other gods, Athena will let your parent know it is her who they are talking to.

And if letting them know beforehand isnt enough, she will let them know when the baby is brought to them, and if your parent is smart enough to live up to her choice, you'll have time to learn a thing or two before being thrown into this world.

If your parent cares enough about you, you'll have time.

And sure as hell my mom cared.

Always the intelectual woman, historian, researcher, writter, my mom knew many things about ancient greece, she knew all the stories by heart, and she, of all people, knew what she needed to do, to preserve her only daughter, her sacred gift.

She teached me all i needed to learn without compromising myself, stories, languages, art...and fight.

Little girls my age were doing dance classes, were trying to be good enough for drama club, were playing tea party with their dolls or making a mess with their mom's make up.

Well...i.. i was doing martial arts, i was fencing, i had my face in a book every free time i got.

I always asked her about it, why was she so strict about never missing a fight leasson, her answer always made sense, there and now.

"The world is cruel, especially for little girls, someday i might not be all the time with you, someday, you'll fight your own battles, you need to be ready"

Every word, every single word is true.

And that is how i ended up here, in a arena of camp half blood, sparring with Clarisse, and winnig, by two points, yes, but winning.

It is clear nobody expected that from me, neither did she actually, i can see in her eyes.

Understandable, they expect Athena kids to be calm, find a solution, not fight her way out.

Honestly their looks dont bother me, i dont even think much of it, but Clarisse's looks, they got something more to them, like a kid who finally got the dog she really wanted.

"Aaand break time Clarrise, we'll continue this tomorrow, id like to enjoy the rest of my afternoon thank you"

I dropped the sword down and started to undo my armor while walking close to the exit.

"Wait wait wait, now? Already? C'mon i didnt even had time to figure out how do you do that... all of that"

She stood next to me, still holding her sword and honestly.. she was beautiful, yes she was sweaty now and yes she was mean to everyone but.. now...right now, she was beautiful, shining, in her element really, flushed cheeks and a smile she only had when with a sword in hand.

"I practice, ever since i was a kid, everyday, well expect in weekends but yeah, almost everyday... how do you do all that? You are good...-want some water?"

I offered her my bottle also motioning for her to walk with me, both wich she gladly accepted.

"I practice too...and i never said this to anyone but, you are good, great even, and look breathtaking"

We stop walking, we stop all actually.

"I look what, Clarisse?"

"Breathtaken- you look out of breath, do you want the water back?"

Ah.

Weeks later i found myself in the same scenario, sparring with Clarisse again, actually that is all i do when it comes to training, be with Clarisse

"C'mon curls, thats the best you've got? No need to go easy on me"

"Im not going easy, i already told you, you caught me distracted thats all- GIRL WIll YOU SUSH?"

She tried to block you with her sword, thankfully for her, a succeded attempt.

"How could i? You're so fun to mess with, gets all red n all"

"Oh you want to talk about getting red?"

In a moment i was on the floor, Clarisse on top of me, and i couldnt speak, all i could do was stare into her big brown eyes, who looked right into my soul.

"Cant speak anymore huh? Oh if you could see the red im seeing-"

Now this my ladies and gentlemen, this is what i call a shot of faith.

I raised my head a little and just..i kissed her, it was quick but I did it, and her face went blank.

"Now you are breathtaken Curls, how about that?"

"And you are still breathtaking"

Still?

Oh

Oh.

"You...like me Clarisse?"

"You didnt knew?"

Oh.

"....no..?"

"Would you walk away if i kissed you this time?"

"....no."

[originalfatfiction]

Andy's Assistant

“Hello, excuse me.” There was a gentle rapping at my office door that caused me to look up from my computer. “Are you Andrew Reynolds?” I looked at a young guy obviously in his early twenties. He smiled cheerily as he stood in the doorway, waiting for my response. His smile was gorgeous, his teeth immaculate.

“Yes, I’m Andrew Reynolds,” I replied. “How can I help you?” He smiled again before he continued, walking a little further into my office. 

“Well, the receptionist at the desk in the waiting area said it would be okay if I came on back.” I nodded, allowing him to continue. “My name is Parker Jeong and I applied for the job as your assistant. We had the interview over the phone early last week. I was in the process of moving to the area.”

“Oh, yes, I remember.” Recent college grad. Moving from California. Could start working immediately.

“I know that you mentioned wanting to meet in person before finalizing my employment.” He smiled again, and even with the wholesome smile on his face, I could see in his eyes that he was nervous. He had beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes, and he did his best to hold my gaze. He toyed anxiously with the crisp sheet of paper in his hand, which I assumed was a hard copy of his resumé. He was probably scared I wouldn’t want to hire him after all. Imagine moving across the country for a job only to be told the position had already been filled.

“I know you just graduated a few months ago,” I verbalized. “But from what I remember you telling me during our phone conversation and what I saw on the resumé you emailed over, you’re more than qualified to work as an administrative assistant.”  

“Thank you, sir. I brought a hard copy of my resumé with me,” he said.

“Let me take another look.” He walked closer to my desk and handed it to me. I looked it over, recalling most of the standout credentials. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

Parker had majored in marketing with a minor in graphic design. He’d spent his final semester involved in a mentorship program for Asian-Americans interested in working in advertising. He graduated magna cum laude. Hell, he was overqualified for this position. 

“You’re sure you want this job?” I asked. “You could definitely get a position as a copywriter at another agency.” 

“Hathaway and Associates is the best agency in the entire Midwest. I’ve dreamed of working here since I decided I wanted to go into advertising. The commercials you all put out for Nike were astonishing.” The kid had done his research. 

“What about those commercials did you like so much?” 

“They had this sense of authenticity that I don’t think we see much of anymore. Those ads gave me the courage to join a gym.” I wondered what he’d think if he knew the portly executive in front of him had come up with the concept that inspired his fitness journey. 

“I want more for my career, yes, but I don’t plan on shirking my responsibilities as your assistant. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of, sir.”  

I was a pretty good judge of character, and I didn’t think Parker would let me down. I liked his honesty. It was refreshing. My previous assistants had never been my choice, often young adults that had some sort of connection to the other executives at the agency. “Well, I look forward to working with you.”

“I look forward to working with you too,” he replied, reaching out to shake my hand. I stood, and his eyes traveled upwards to my face. Maybe he couldn’t tell I was so tall behind my desk, but it seemed like he was surprised by my size. I tended to have this effect on people. I grabbed his hand, and we shook to seal the deal of his hiring.

“Head to human resources and get your paperwork finalized. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning. We start at nine.” He thanked me again, clutching his over-the-shoulder bag as he left my office. I bet he skipped down the hallway all the way to HR.

I knew he’d work hard. That was certain. But when it came to how sexy he was, I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into. I assumed Parker was gay, and he was definitely a little snack I could see myself sinking my teeth into, but I had to remind myself that I was in a position of power over him. Even if I wanted to see what he was working with underneath his exquisitely tailored slacks, flirting with him was a no-go. And besides, that little gym bunny probably had no interest in a grizzly bear like me.

The next morning, I got to work a little early and Parker was sitting at his station right outside of my office. He had a dozen donuts on his desk and two coffees, one much larger than the other.

“Hello Mr. Reynolds,” he said. “Please let me know what I can do to help you this morning.” He handed me the larger coffee and a napkin before smoothly opening the box of donuts. I recognized them immediately. They were from a trendy new spot that had opened a few months ago. They specialized in unique flavors, like maple-bacon and Fruity Pebbles.

“You sure know how to make an impression.” 

“I told you that I’d do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of.” I grabbed one of the donuts, knowing I’d be coming back out for another within the next fifteen minutes.

“Let me get situated and I’ll let you know what you can do for me.”

“Yes sir.”

I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me with all this “Mr. Reynolds” and “Yes sir” business. My last assistant was a statuesque redhead who never tried to go above and beyond the requirements of her position. Which was fine, I got it. She did what she was paid for. But sometimes I think she messed things up on purpose so I wouldn’t give her more work to do. I barely got a hello from her in the morning, and she left promptly at five without so much as a farewell. 

I shuffled into my office, tossing my bag on one of the chairs opposite my desk. I bit into the donut, savoring its sweetness. It tasted like a Biscoff cookie, and I was almost certain the glaze was made from cookie butter. I took a slightly larger bite before shoving the rest of the pastry into my awaiting mouth. That donut never stood a chance. I already wanted another, but I needed to show some self-restraint. I couldn’t let Parker know I spent my working hours inhaling food three minutes into his first day.

About ten minutes later, Parker was knocking at my door, box of donuts in hand.

“We’re celebrating today, Mr. Reynolds,” he said, walking towards my desk. “I’ve already had two of these. I’m going to leave the box with you so you don’t have to worry about coming back for more.”

“Well, uh, you don’t want to offer them to some of the other assistants?”

“No, sir,” he said, coyly setting the box to the left of me at my L-shaped desk. “This is for me and you, sir.”

Damn did Parker know the way to a big man’s heart. Having the box within arm’s reach, I finished the rest of that dozen by noon.

The donuts were one thing, but Parker was constantly supplying me with snacks throughout the day. He’d brought me homemade blueberry muffins and brown butter chocolate chip cookies. He’d made me buttery croissants, decadent fudge brownies, and Oreo cheesecake bites. I wondered if he was making his way through a cookbook.

“It’s just a hobby,” he said offhandedly when I mentioned he didn’t have to bring me so many treats. “I guess I got carried away.”

“You just always bring so much. I hope you know I’m not expecting you to bring something every single day. I don’t want you to feel put out.”

“It’s just how I unwind,” he said. “Before I moved here, I had three roommates. Now that I live alone, I don’t have anyone else to share them with. I’m really sorry for assuming you wanted them.”

“Whoa!” I interjected. “I never said I didn’t want them.” This made him laugh. I didn’t mind the baked goods. I woke up salivating thinking about what new thing he’d have for me to munch on, but it was never just a sampling of his work. The portions were huge. When he showed up with his reusable containers, it always brought to mind something that would normally be placed in the breakroom for everyone in the office to sample—like a baker’s dozen of white chocolate raspberry mini-Bundt cakes or an entire pan of M&M Rice Krispie Treats.

The baked goods were just the cherry on top of having an excellent assistant. He was definitely the best one I’d ever had, a really fast learner for sure, but his competence as an office worker was second to his ability to cater to my often insatiable hunger. A month of Parker’s special treatment was damaging to my waistline. Being catered to by him turned me on beyond belief, and it was something new for me. In my past relationships, my love of food was never celebrated. Parker’s eyes seemed to light up when I munched on whatever he brought me. “It’s not too chocolatey?” he’d asked, pushing another confection my way. It was never too chocolatey. It was always perfect, just like him.

He greeted me with baked goods each morning and made sure to say goodbye before heading out every evening, carrying with him an empty Tupperware container or pie dish. Aside from the extra thousand-plus calories a day I was inhaling from his delicious goodies, he always made sure to have lunch delivered for me.

He talked to me more than any of my other assistants ever had. Almost like he was trying to get to know me on a more personal level. It had me looking forward to going to work, a feeling I hadn’t had in quite a while. It might have been unintentional, but Parker’s interest, even if it was just platonic, was boosting my ego. My old assistants barely ever looked in my direction, but this guy wanted to know what my favorite movies were and what I liked to do for fun. This attention from him was electrifying. My brain knew being this infatuated with him was no good, but my heart (and my stomach) didn’t care.

Even now, none of the interns or other assistants ever talked to me unless absolutely necessary. That didn’t mean I wasn’t a topic of conversation. They all definitely talked about me. I was big, yes. But I also had a resting serious face. Combined with my intimidating frame, they thought of me as some sort of beast. I once made an intern cry during a pitch meeting because I “looked like I was going to bite her head off.” I now made more of an effort to smile, even when there was no reason to. I also tried to ignore the implications of this, considering I was one of four black men on staff.

To the other execs, I was more of the office joke. I was younger than most of them by fifteen years, so they viewed me as some sort of kid brother. It was always a crack here or a joke there. When I landed the Nike account they all thought it was the funniest thing to ever happen in the history of the world.

“Andy?” one of them had guffawed, barely able to get out what he wanted to say. “When was the last time you saw the inside of a gym? And Nike went with your pitch?”  

But it was something I had become accustomed to; all throughout school I was the big guy people joked about or avoided. Adults always thought I was with the wrong group of kids in elementary school because I was a head taller than the other boys. As if I wasn’t already too big, I had another growth spurt the summer before freshman year of high school. At fourteen my dad began teaching me how to lift weights. My body developed rapidly, and it took me a long time to get comfortable with those changes. By the time I was eighteen, I was larger than my father, who was by no means a small man. My weight sort of leveled out in my early twenties, and I graduated college at my current height and 270 pounds.

Joining the workforce was frightening, yet liberating. I had disposable income and the ability to make my own life decisions. I began working where I was currently employed as a copywriter two months after getting my degree. Lots of late nights and hard work helped me rise in the ranks. I was promoted to the executive level three years ago, and had run through five assistants in that time. I was now thirty-two, unmarried, and a little stifled.

I spent most of my time working. I hadn’t had a hookup in literal years, and to be frank, I didn’t see one happening in the near future. I used to be able to lean into being the big, burly guy who’d had one too many beers. I walked the line between dad-bod and straight-up fat guy for as long as I could before I was promoted. Being an executive meant a lot more responsibility and a lot less free time. My tri-weekly lifting sessions were now a thing of the past. I thought I could stand to lose a few pounds then, but now I was over 350 pounds.

Having Parker as my assistant only exacerbated my feelings of loneliness (and horniness). He probably didn’t even know I was gay and very much into his tight slacks and obedient disposition. The last month had been amazing, yet torturous.

“I have your forms, Mr. Reynolds.”

I told him he could call me Andy, or even just Andrew, but he never did. It was about lunch time and I was getting a bit restless. Maybe I’d run off my other assistants with my multiple food orders throughout the day. I seemed to simply exist in a state of hunger. I was also slightly convinced I couldn’t do my best work on an empty stomach.

I looked at Parker standing in front of me. His dark brown hair was short and very stylish. My hair was cut in a neat fade and my facial hair was thick. I’d kept a standing appointment with my barber every Sunday morning at ten for the last five years.

“Thank you,” I said, holding out my hand to take the manila folder that contained the forms from him. Like some cheesy porno with ridiculous circumstances to set up a sexual scenario, the folder fell through my fingers, all the papers scattering on my office floor.

“Oh, sorry!” he exclaimed. “That’s my bad.” He bent over to pick up the documents, noticing there were more papers to gather than he first realized. He then got on his knees in front of my desk and once again I got to take in his beautiful ass. The fabric of his slacks pulled tight against his butt. His back was slightly arched, as if advertising himself to me. What I wouldn’t give to be bucking my hips behind him. I thought about fucking him constantly, and it had become an obsession. I’d definitely gotten the vibe that he was gay, but I had some serious doubts he’d ever want to hook up with me. “Here you go,” he said, hopping to his feet and handing me the papers.

Almost like it was trying to embarrass me and purposely kill my arousal, my stomach growled.

“Sorry,” I said. I couldn’t believe how hot my face got. My stomach growling was only going to draw attention to the fact that I was twice his size. The portion of goodies I received from Parker at the start of the day was on the smaller side, so that hadn’t helped to dull my hunger pains.

“It’s okay.” He smiled. “It’s lunchtime.” I felt my face go hot once more.

“Yeah, I guess I am kind of hungry.”

“You’re a pretty big guy. I get it.” He fidgeted with one of the buttons on his dress shirt. “Do you, maybe, want to take lunch with me today?” 

“I’ve never eaten with one of my assistants before,” I said, in disbelief he wanted to spend time with me outside of the office.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can just pick something up for you if you’d prefer—”

I stood quickly, not wanting to pass up any opportunity to talk to him about topics not related to copies or signatures or meetings. My gut shook a bit with the momentum. The buttons had given me a difficult time when getting dressed, and I needed to get some new shirts.

“I’m free for lunch,” I exclaimed. “We can go now.”

There were a ton of restaurants in the downtown area. I asked what he wanted to eat and he deferred to me, claiming he wanted me to get whatever I was craving. If I were able to get whatever I was craving, it would be the Parker Jeong meal, extra sauce. He’d probably think that was so cringe. I sighed to myself.

“There’s this place called The Coop,” I said, giving my second choice for lunch. “They serve Nashville style hot chicken.”

At the restaurant he got a normal sized portion of food for a normal sized person, and I wanted to be good, but I needed to replace the lust I was feeling with something else, and that something else was two Nashville hot chicken sandwiches, a large fry, baked beans, coleslaw, and a strawberry mint frozen lemonade.

He didn’t even bat an eye, offering to pick up our trays while I waited at the table. I knew he was just being nice to me because I was his boss. I’d paid for the food, so he was probably just still in assistant mode.

“Order up,” he said, returning to where we sat, setting my overstuffed tray in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said, taking in his tray with three tenders and a medium fry.

“Do you like to eat here a lot?” he asked, sipping from his unsweetened iced tea. Coming from someone else, that would’ve felt like a jab, but from him it just felt conversational.

“I do like this place a lot. Especially for the downtown area. The portions aren’t skimpy and it tastes pretty good too.”

“What other places do you like?”

“Oh, well that’s easy,” I said, digging into my first sandwich. “There’s Tripp’s for seafood, Curry House for Indian, Miss Janie’s for BBQ, oh yeah—Sub Daddy has these huge hoagies. Best in the city. And they’re open late!”

“Sub Daddy?” he laughed. “What kind of name is that?”

“Well, maybe they’re leaning into the innuendo?”

“Hmm, maybe,” he said, looking down at his tenders. “We’ll have to eat there together soon, though Dom Daddies are actually more my speed.”

Was that directed towards me? There was no chance. Absolutely no way. He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t coming on to me. But still—even if his comment meant nothing, I could feel myself getting hard. 

I took another big bite of my sandwich, trying not to fuck things up. If I lost another assistant they’d probably open an investigation or something to figure out what I did to keep running them off.

“So, um, how’s your food?” I asked, deflecting. 

The vibes never quite got back on track after that. I was too wound up and way too invested in my food. If my inability to hold conversation wasn’t enough to scare him off, me stuffing my face for fifteen minutes straight surely did the job.

We made our way back to the office and finished up for the day. It was a little after five when Parker peeked his head into my office. 

“Have a good night, Mr. Reynolds.” He hesitated for a moment. “Oh, and thanks for lunch.” 

“No problem. I enjoyed your company.” I did enjoy his company. Even with how poorly I felt things went, it was nice being out in public with him. I had to remind myself it wasn’t a date and only lunch between colleagues.

“About the joke I made,” he started, stepping completely into my office and closing the door. “I am so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon.”

“Don’t even sweat it,” I said, knowing I sent him into this spiral because I was now inept at talking to cute men. Things had been so much easier ten years ago.

“I am gay,” he continued. “I know some people feel a type of way about that sort of thing. I just don’t want it to ruin our relationship.”

“You don’t need to disclose your sexual orientation, there are policies in place to protect people from discrimination in the workplace and I’d never treat you poorly because of something like that because—”

“Because you’re a really good boss, I know. I’m sorry I even thought you’d treat me differently. It’s just—the real world is way different than a college campus.”

I was about to come out to him. What did I even think was going to happen? Were we going to fuck, me taking control as his sought after Dom Daddy? I was being ridiculous. Of course he was concerned about his career. 

“Are you going to be much longer?” he asked.

“Yeah, I have to catch up on some work for that supercenter presentation next week.” He started to take off his jacket. “No need to do that, Parker.”

“I can help,” he said. 

“No, that’s okay. Don’t ruin your evening,” I said, still feeling embarrassed by this whole debacle. I could use his help. The copy room was unbearably small and I didn’t want to have to keep squeezing in and out of there. 

“But if you need my help, I can help.” He smiled. “It’s my job. I’m your assistant.” 

I was glad he wanted to help me. He was truly the best assistant I‘d ever had and not just because he had such a fantastic ass. I didn’t want to come across as demanding or difficult to work with, but selfishly, I wanted to spend more time with him.

“Well, okay,” I relented. “As long as you’re free.” 

“I’ll order us something from Sub Daddy,” he said, heading back out to his station. “It’s been hours since lunch. You can’t focus on an empty stomach.”

After that, we worked late a lot, and went to lunch together even more often. He was more than willing to try new restaurants with me, always encouraging me to order as much as I wanted. He always offered to treat me, but I never let him. What sense did that make? He only ever ate a fourth of what I did.

His personality was pleasant, which didn’t make it easier for me to stifle my crush on him. Who wouldn’t be into him? He was smart, hardworking, fun, and considerate. He knew how to bake and never made me feel bad about eating what I wanted. I had gotten into the habit of eating more and more when I was around him. I hardly noticed until all the food was gone. I found myself to be less nervous when I was stuffing my face. It felt less likely that I’d say something dumb. When I was 70 pounds lighter, I was way more willing to flirt or say something corny to make a guy laugh. But now I felt like everything I said or did seemed desperate. And so instead of talking, I stuffed my face. In the two months Parker had been working with me, I’d gained ten pounds.

On our late nights, I always told him he could leave but he never did. Not once.

That was enough to keep my delusional fantasies about him going.

He started mentioning clubs and bars, asking if I’d ever want to go with. I figured it was just a gesture, and I was way too rusty to ever take him up on the offer, but maybe one day I could. The more I got to know him, the more I found myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, he was interested in me too.

My pants had gotten even tighter; I needed some new ones. My thighs filled them out completely and my ass was getting pretty big too. I’d never gotten around to getting those new shirts, and now I needed new pants. I had to face it. I was fat, and with my habits, I was just going to keep getting fatter.

It was late October, and one of the other execs was celebrating his fiftieth. His assistant and a few of the interns had organized a little office party for him after lunch. I’d already eaten these really delicious chocolate covered pretzel sticks Parker made me and something he’d picked up for me from The Coop for lunch.

Everyone filed into our largest conference room. There were a few toasts and it was a decent time overall. Then the cake was revealed. It was from a nice bakery near our office that people always used when doing festive things like this. 

It was time to admit to myself that I loved sweets, and with Parker’s kind gestures, I had tried tons of things I’d never eaten before.

I moseyed on over to the cake, planning to only have a piece. Just enough to be polite to the planning committee. But it was delicious. It was a strawberry lemon layer cake, the perfect marriage between tart and sweet flavors. The lemon cake layers were separated by a delightful strawberry compote (a term I’d learned from Parker), which was also incorporated into the rich buttercream frosting. 

By the time I finished my (substantial) piece, Parker discreetly replaced my empty plate with another that had an even larger slice. He did this three more times while we mingled with others from the office. I must have ended up having a third of that cake to myself. 

Returning to my office after the celebration gave me time to reflect. I tried to get some work done, but it was hard to focus, especially with the buttons on my yet to be replaced shirt and slacks straining.

What was Parker trying to do? Was he simply being an attentive assistant or was he subtly making fun of me? Or maybe I was just too in my head and he was attracted to me? He’d never done or said anything that alluded to disliking me because of my size. But that didn’t mean he was attracted to me because of it either. I looped through variations of the same arguments over and over.

I must’ve overanalyzed those different scenarios for a good fifteen minutes before shifting my focus back to work. I’d already sent Parker to the art department to collect some mock-ups we’d need, but I couldn’t move forward in my current task without making some photocopies. 

I was going to have to face the dreaded copy room.

Minutes later, I stood outside of the copy room. I paused momentarily to psych myself up before proceeding. The room was not spacious to begin with, but with multiple built-in cabinets full of office supplies on one wall and a line of photocopiers on the other, the only space for a person to move was a narrow strip of floor down the middle of the room. I walked up the aisle to one of the machines in the center of the room.

So far, so good. I made one of my copies, and proceeded to the next. Still good. I moved on to my last document. That’s when the machine jammed.

“Fuck me,” I said to myself, sighing. I took a step back, my ass already brushing against a cabinet. I leaned forward, opening the side panel and noticing the jammed paper immediately. This would be an easy fix, thankfully. I was bending my knees slightly, and I could feel the fabric of my slacks pulling tight against my beefy behind. It might have just been my anxiety, but I swear I could feel the stitch on the rise of my pants stretching to its limit. I made a mental note to myself that at this point some new items in my wardrobe were necessary, not optional.

I removed the jammed paper, made my last copy, and swiftly made my exit from that claustrophobic space. Bull in a china shop, meet Andrew Reynolds in the copy room. 

I paused for a moment, as I could hear Parker’s voice.

“I really should be getting back.”

“Come on, Parker. You can’t actually like working with Andy.” I backpedaled before I could be seen. It was Antoinette, one of the office gossips. She’d been close with my previous administrative assistant.

“Yeah, I do,” Parker said, sounding somewhat bothered. “He’s really very nice. And super smart.” Whoa. He was actually sticking up for me. I could hardly believe it.

“You’re gay, right?”

What a segue. Antoinette was likely upset he wasn’t down to badmouth me, ready to move the conversation in a direction she found more interesting.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” he said, his tone slightly more annoyed. 

“You don’t like him, do you?” Antoinette pushed. “Because you’re probably barking up the wrong tree with that one. He’s never been with anyone since I started here, and it’s been seven years.”

“Mr. Reynolds might just be a private person. He could have a wife and kids at home. You don’t know.” At this, she laughed.

“I highly doubt that.” Parker likely made a face, as she then said, “Now don’t give me that look. I wasn’t trying to upset you. I hadn’t realized how much you looked up to Andy.” She couldn’t have sounded more sarcastic.

“Like I said,” he reiterated. “I really should be getting back.”

“Okay, wait. I only bring it up because there’s someone else in the office who is interested in you.” She sounded like some sort of matchmaker.

“Toni, please.” He sounded even more irritated. “I don’t think my love life is any of your business, and I don’t need you to hook me up with anyone.”

“Mark is the one that wanted me to talk to you. He really likes you,” Antoinette continued. Mark was a copywriter that had started two or three years after I did. He’d never gotten over the fact that I’d been promoted and he hadn’t.

“I’m flattered, truly,” Parker replied. “But please tell him I’m not interested.”

“Fine, but here’s his card anyway.” There was a slight pause. “But you’ve got to be real with me. Working with Andy must be hard. I heard from his last assistant that he was so demanding, and not about work matters. She spent most of her time placing food orders and picking up his take-out.” She laughed. “Did you see all that cake he ate at Dave’s party this afternoon? That’s why he’s not with somebody. Who wants to date a pig?” I felt my stomach tighten in embarrassment.

“Watch how you speak about my boss,” Parker responded. “This conversation is over.”

“Fine, I swear—” I could hear her heels clicking on the linoleum of the hallway as she walked away from the corner in which they’d been speaking. I could then hear Parker’s steps as he headed towards the copy room. 

I froze.

What could I do? There was nowhere to hide. I was in the world’s smallest copy room, and even if there was somewhere to hide, there was no way I’d fit into that hiding spot. I just stood there, ready to face the awkwardness. He turned the corner quickly, bumping into my stomach.

He stumbled back, almost losing his balance. He dropped all the samples from the art department. I could feel that tight feeling in my stomach again, my mouth going dry. He must have known I was listening.

“Mr. Reynolds?” he mused. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” He knelt down and started picking up the papers.

“No apologies, please. It’s my fault.” 

I bent over quickly to help him and there was a loud ripping sound. The same seam in my pants that had worried me moments before gave way. I could tell immediately that my pants had split down the back.

I stood up straight immediately. I could feel his eyes on my face. 

“Andrew,” he said softly. 

No, not the pity. I could feel it coming, and that would make me feel worse. I pushed past him, leaving him alone in that tiny room to gather the scattered papers. I waddled awkwardly back to my office to grab my jacket. I didn’t want the pants to rip anymore than they already had. I needed to get some new slacks. 

Taking a moment, I looked in the mirror on the back of my office door. My blue button up shirt didn’t hide my large, round belly. I’d really let things get bad these last few months. I had completely lost all restraint since meeting Parker. I was happy-eating when he brought me his baked goods. I was nervous-eating when we went out to lunch together. I was sad-eating at home when I thought about how much it sucked to have unrequited feelings. 

My love handles sloped away from my torso down over the side of my pants. My pants looked like they’d been painted on my meaty thighs. When did my face get so round? If I shaved my beard how many chins would I find? More than the one I remembered when I started working here ten years ago? I had once had a square jaw, but I knew now it would be backed by a second chin, with a new layer of fat likely being formed behind that. My round cheeks made my eyes look smaller than they were in my youth. I even had a light dabbling of sweat on my forehead from my dash back into my office.

“Mr. Reynolds?” Parker called gently as he knocked at my door. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” I said, speaking slowly. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” he inquired. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I need to head out for an errand, so please make sure you reschedule the rest of my meetings this afternoon.” 

“Do you need to go shopping?” he asked. 

I could have leaped from my office window—and we were on the twentieth floor. Any chance of ever being with Parker was surely ruined. I needed to rip off the Band-Aid and get this interaction over with. I opened my office door. 

“I could help you pick some things out,” he suggested. “I am your assistant. And I know it’s a stereotype, but I have a pretty good fashion sense.” He was trying so hard to be nice to me. 

“This is my problem.” I was still speaking slowly, forcing the words out in a way that likely came off as short. “This is a personal matter, not something to do with work.”

He didn’t say anything. He turned and walked over to his desk, rummaging in one of the drawers. He held a tiny sewing kit in his hands as he strode back over to where I stood. He placed his hand on my stomach, pushing me back into the office before closing the door.

“I understand you would rather shop alone, but I’m not going to let my boss walk around with a split in his pants.” What was he expecting me to do? Strip? There was no way.

“Parker—”

“We don’t have to make a big deal out of this, sir,” he said. “Just take off your pants and hand them here. I can mend them in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Really, that’s not necessary.”

He just stood there, looking at me expectantly. I didn’t want to walk around exposed until I could get to a clothing store. It would only take him fifteen minutes. I took a deep breath and unbuckled my belt. It was a brown leather material that matched my loafers, which I’d slid out of before shimmying out of my too-tight navy slacks.

I could see myself in the mirror behind my office door again. Here I was in my boxer briefs, Parker standing right in front of me, and it wasn’t a scenario I’d previously imagined. He crouched down in front of me, grabbing the pants so I wouldn’t have to bend over.

He inspected the rip for a moment. “This is perfect. It’s not frayed or anything.”

“You really think you can fix them?”

“A temporary fix, yes.” He walked towards one of the extra chairs in my office and had a seat. Things were silent for a few minutes as he threaded the needle and got started on the repair. I’d taken a seat behind my desk and watched him work.

His skin was so smooth, his lips kissably full, his nose a little large for his face.

“I can see why these split,” he said, not looking up from his work. His words abruptly hit me and filled the silence in a way that sat heavy on my mind.

“Me too.” He still hadn’t looked up at me. He just continued mending my pants. 

“I knew I needed new ones, and I—” The words got caught in my throat. I was already embarrassed, so maybe it was time for me to just speak honestly, but speaking honestly kind of felt like admitting defeat. It felt like I was giving up on taking things in an intimate direction with Parker. “I’ve been putting it off. They probably could’ve held on a bit longer, but I’ve put on some weight recently.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Guys like you don’t get it. You could have anyone you wanted.”

“What if I wanted you, Andrew?”

He finally looked up from his work. I must’ve been looking at him stone faced, because his bravado faltered almost immediately.

“Mr. Reynolds—I’m so sorry. That was out of line.”

Parker’s confession allowed me to push past that voice in my head that explained away all the things he did as platonic. He liked me. He wanted me. He’d said so himself.

Before the self-doubt set in, I had to shoot my shot. I’d sulk about my split pants late at night years from now, but right at this moment I refused to return to that negative place. He wanted a Dom Daddy, and that was a role I was more than willing to play.

“What if I told you I wanted to fuck you right now?” His face reddened considerably. I’d never seen him so worked up before, and that made me more confident. “Since the day I hired you, I’ve thought about what it’d feel like to be inside of that sweet ass.”

“Sir—”

“C’mere,” I said in a low voice. He stood, placing my slacks in the seat he’d gotten up from, and gingerly made his way to where I sat behind my desk. He looked down at me slightly as I sat, but we were essentially still on eye level with one another. I could see his chest rising and falling with each breath he took, his lips parted slightly in lust. He pressed his crotch into my gut as he leaned down to kiss me. I could feel his erection through his khakis.

I reached up and palmed his ass, holding a cheek in each hand. He really was stacked back there. He moaned slightly, pressing his dick further into my stomach. We continued kissing, and I pulled him even closer into myself.

I could have kissed him like this for hours, but he pulled away after a few minutes. His palms were pressed against my sagging chest, which sat atop my heavy middle. He slid his hands down my front before resting them on the part of my gut that sat out the farthest. Normally, my first instinct would have been to suck it in, but I realized how useless that would have been. There was no hiding it anymore.

He patted my stomach gently before moving his hands beneath it, lifting it and bouncing it up and down slowly. I could see his hardness through his khakis, so it was clear that he was enjoying himself. If I were to be honest with myself, I was enjoying the belly play too. I’d never had someone focus so intently on my gut before.

I stood up, and he tilted his head back to continue meeting my gaze. I had to play this correctly. I knew he made a joke about liking dominant men, but I wasn’t certain it was actually what he was into.

“Get on your knees,” I said, staring down at him.

“Yes sir.”

He knew what I wanted. He pawed at my underwear until it was around my ankles. My dick bobbed freely now, level with his line of sight. The closer he got to me, the harder I got and the harder it was to see him. He reached up with one hand to hold my belly out of the way and with the other he grabbed the base of my dick.

“Get to work,” I instructed. I grabbed a fistful of his hair as he wrapped his mouth around my dick. It had been a while, but I couldn’t recall a better blow. He was a perfectionist in every sense of the word. His one hand gently massaged the base of my gut as he continued sucking me off. I’d been with people who liked that I wasn’t rail thin, but never with someone like Parker. Everything was adding up. The special treats, the lunches together, the cake at the party this afternoon. He liked me being fat, and I was now fairly certain he wanted me even fatter. “I’m about to cum.”

He didn’t stop his work. He simply slowed his pace, teasing my dick with his tongue in a different way. The switch in sensation caused me to erupt. A heavy stream of cum shot from my dick into his mouth and he made sure to get every last drop. I let go of his hair, stepping back so I could have a seat.

I was panting heavily, my underwear around my ankles, gut rising and falling with each deep breath I took. He looked up at me from his place on the floor. His hair was disheveled and his face was flushed. I could still see his erection through his khakis. Damn, he was the hottest guy I’d ever seen. I could hardly believe he was experiencing such intense lust over me.

“You’re something else,” I said, still catching my breath. “And I can’t believe it, but I’d kill for another piece of that cake right now.”

That had him up on his feet, speed-walking from my office and back to the conference room. He was so out of it, he’d probably run to that bakery to get me another piece if he had to.

This shift in our relationship was going to be interesting.

I wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen immediately following our initial sexual encounter, but we went about our weekends like nothing had changed. After eating one of the final slices of that cake from the office party, I left early to purchase some new clothing items. He texted me, and I replied, but neither of us mentioned what had happened.

So Monday morning came and I had spent the entire weekend eating optimistically. I thought about how much he’d want me to be eating good. At one point, I googled “gay fat fetish” and found there was a whole world of people not only into big guys, but into big guys getting even bigger. Maybe he’d bring it up, but now I wanted to test the waters a little. What sort of things would get him going? I was excited to find out. Monday morning, I was hard the entire commute to work thinking about demolishing whatever Parker planned to put in front of me. 

I walked into the elevator, pressing the button that would lead me to the twentieth floor. I noticed Parker making his way toward the elevators. Just seeing him existing in the world made me so fucking happy. I almost didn’t even notice that Mark was right next to him. I hit the door open button quickly, wanting to be near Parker as soon as possible, even if that meant sharing the space with Mark. The doors stayed open, and they both got on.

“Good Morning, Mr. Reynolds.” He smiled up at me. He was carrying a tote bag, and like some sort of sugar-addicted bloodhound, I was almost certain I could smell cinnamon. 

“Parker, hey,” I said, covering my crotch with my bag. Just hearing him say my name was turning me on, giving me a semi. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Hello Andrew,” Mark said. To be completely honest, I’d blocked him out almost immediately. He and I weren’t on the best terms, especially after my promotion.

“Hey Mark.”

“Are you still hitting the gym?” he asked. “Since you got that promotion, I’ve noticed a change in your appearance. I’m sure you’re eating well on that executive salary.”

“I do have a hand in that,” Parker said plainly. “Mr. Reynolds is very kind to indulge my personal baking hobby.”

“But still,” Mark pressed. “Sometimes we’ve got to push ourselves, you know? Once you hit thirty it takes more effort to stay in shape.”

“I think he looks great,” Parker offered, turning to look at Mark. He gave him an obvious once over, his eyes traveling from the top of his head all the way to his shoes. “Do you work out, Mark?”

“Yeah, I do actually,” Mark responded proudly. “Six days a week.”

“Really?” Parker inquired. “I’d have never thought that.”

The man was too stunned to speak.

We all stood silent, the whir of the elevator’s mechanisms the only source of sound. The elevator finally stopped on our floor. Parker and I went towards my office while Mark made his way to his cubicle. Parker placed the tote bag on his desk and I stopped for a moment.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, giving a knowing smile.

“I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.”

“You’re something else.”

“I’m nothing special,” he said, removing two Tupperware containers from the tote bag. “So today you have options. You could have some millionaire shortbread bars or carrot cake cinnamon rolls.”

“Or? You act like I’m not going to polish off both of these containers before we head out for lunch.”

“Uh—well, I—I didn’t think you’d want—”

He looked up at me in surprise, like he’d been found out. I’d known Parker for a couple of months now, and I’d never seen him so flustered. It made me weirdly satisfied. He wanted me to eat? He wanted me to put on a few pounds? If he kept blowing me like he had last week, I’d eat whatever he wanted for the rest of my life.

“I bought some new pants, so I can probably keep indulging for a little while. I need my assistant to make sure I don’t go hungry. That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, sir,” he said. “Not a problem at all, sir.”

“I didn’t think it would be.” I grabbed both containers and went into my office, peeling off both lids and diving into the baked goods with unabashed enthusiasm. Over that first hour of the day, I ate a dozen shortbread bars and six hefty cinnamon rolls. 

Once I’d finished both desserts, I sat back at my desk. I felt my chair sag, groaning slightly as I allowed my bulk to settle into the seat. This was so unhinged. What was happening to me? Maybe it was all the sugar, but I was in some sort of stupor. My only thought was how I wanted Parker between my legs again, his hands all over my gut. I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. I must’ve sat there for about ten minutes before there was a knock at my door. “Mr. Reynolds?”

“Come in.” Parker opened the door and walked up to my desk. I watched him survey the scene. I laughed a little to myself at the shocked expression on his face as he took in both containers sitting empty in front of me.

“You already finished the–the–the shortbread bars?”

“And the cinnamon rolls,” I added. “They were both phenomenal. You’ve got quite the talent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I only wish I’d had some milk to wash it all down with.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that for next time.”

“There is something you could do for me right now,” I said. He looked back at my office door, which he’d left open. He went over to the door and closed it quietly.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Reynolds?”

“You could get that ass over here, for starters.”

He made his way to where I sat behind my desk, like he had on Friday. We looked at one another for a moment, both taking in the moment. It probably wasn’t smart to fuck my assistant before 10 AM on a Monday, but I’d spent nearly two years involuntarily celibate.

“Get undressed.”

He didn’t question me. He immediately began unbuttoning his crisp, white dress shirt. He tossed it on my desk and then peeled his undershirt off over his head. He shimmied out of his navy-colored chinos. He was in nothing but a pair of stylish briefs. It was obvious he worked out, as his quads bulged with muscle as did his arms. He had well-defined abs, firm pecs. 

His body was completely opposite to my own. My legs and arms were large, yes, but not defined with muscle as they had been in the past. I’d never had abs in my entire life. My stomach sat heavy in front of me, packed full of sugary snacks. And even though I’d just eaten enough baked goods for a small get-together, I was already thinking about what I’d be having for lunch.

“What’re we doing for lunch?” I asked. His whole face reddened, all the way to his ears. I reached out to pull him closer, so I could feel his body with my mouth. I kissed his chest softly, enjoying his scent in the process. “I asked you what we’re doing for lunch.”

He moaned loudly.

“Last—last week you mentioned you wanted an—an Italian beef from—” I bit his nipple gently, sucking it afterwards. “Big Beef’s.”

“Fuck that sounds good. With extra hot peppers and a cheese sauce on the side.” He pawed at his briefs, exposing himself to me. He had a nice dick, a respectable size. He was getting off on this for sure. I let go of his waist and began to unbutton my own shirt. He watched me intently, still stroking his penis. I tossed it on the desk with his clothing items.

He paused his masturbatory efforts to help me remove my undershirt. His briefs were now around his ankles and he pressed his dick into my gut. I grabbed at his ass, lightly teasing his hole with my finger as he grinded against me. He didn’t last long after that, coming all over my bloated stomach. He took a step back. Looking down, I could see his cum glistening as it coated the fuzz of my belly. “You’re not done,” I said, lifting my gut to reveal my belt buckle.

A man of excellent intuition, Parker immediately got me out of my pants and gave me some very thorough head.

Oh, and lunch at Big Beef’s that afternoon was stupendous.

We fell into a routine that made every work day well worth it. He was still bringing me his baked goods (beverages now included). We left the office whenever possible to grab a bite to eat during our lunch hour, and when we couldn’t get away he made sure to pick something up for me or to have it delivered. But the best part had to be our sexual escapades. I’d had nearly every part of his body in my mouth at least once. And he was excellent at taking direction. I was pretty sure at this point that he craved it, being told what to do. He was my good boy, doing what I requested, often going above and beyond like there was a chance of being promoted.

From the end of October to the start of the winter holidays, he and I were completely engrossed with one another. Although, even with how intense things had been within the four walls of my office, we had yet to move beyond them.

It was now the second week of December. I was nearing 400 pounds, a thought that was slightly frightening to me. I’d never been this big in my entire life. People around the office had taken notice of my rapid weight gain. It was the elephant in the room. But the food was good, and the sex mind-blowing. I was also intoxicated by Parker’s adoration. With each pound I gained, he seemed to get more and more excited to service me. I wondered how much longer my wardrobe would last before needing to be updated again.

“Excuse me, Mr. Reynolds.” I looked up from the email I was drafting. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“Yeah? What is it?” I inquired, wondering what it was Parker had been mulling over. He was shifting his weight back and forth, nervously smiling in my direction like the day I hired him.

“Well, my parents bought me these tickets to a musical a few weeks ago, and I know that it’s last minute, but I was really hoping you would come with me to see it.”

“A musical?”

“What can I say?” he offered, shrugging slightly. “I’m as stereotypical as they come.”

“When is it?” I asked.

“Tomorrow.” A Saturday.

Was Parker trying to take things to the next level? This was an exciting development. I would love to spend time with him outside of working hours. I could only imagine how much fun we’d have late into the evening post dinnertime.

“If it’s too much, I understand.”

Too much? Not at all. We both wanted more. It was like a weight had been lifted from me (metaphorically, of course). The office sexcapades were nice, there was no doubt about that, but he too wanted to be more than just a hook-up.

“You just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

He laughed.

“I’m kind of obsessed, can’t you tell?”

“I love being adored,” I said, smiling at him playfully. “And now I’m really looking forward to this musical tomorrow. What’s the runtime? Over two hours, I’m sure. I’ll probably need to eat something beforehand.”

“I’ll make a reservation,” he declared enthusiastically, always delighted at an opportunity to get me eating. I was only half-serious with my comment about needing to eat beforehand, but I wasn’t so sure I’d make it the two and a half hours without a meal prior to the curtain rising. I felt incredibly lucky. We’d be getting dinner and seeing a show (and hopefully having even more fun at one of our apartments after).

Once he made the reservation, he emailed over all the info—the restaurant, the reservation time, the name of the theater, the showtime. I could hardly wait. I’d be counting the milliseconds until then. 

The next evening, I dressed to meet Parker for our date. I wore a pair of dark jeans and some Nikes. When I first landed that account, they’d sent over at least ten different pairs. I had lots of dress shirts that fit fairly well since I re-upped, but I wanted to be a little more casual. I found a burgundy crew neck in the back of my dresser that had been a staple in my wardrobe last winter. I pulled it on and found myself shocked at how it fit. I figured there’d be some resistance, but the fabric clung to my plump chest and protruding belly in a way that was much more form-fitting than I anticipated. I tugged at the bottom trying to pull it down to cover the entirety of my stomach. If I moved my arms too much, it exposed some of my brown skin, even though I was also wearing an undershirt.

My first inclination was to change. I wouldn’t have normally wanted to draw attention to my size. But I knew what Parker liked, and I loved pressing his buttons, so I put on my jacket and grabbed my keys, deciding to keep on the sweater. I hoped I wouldn’t come to regret my outfit choice later on.

I was right on time to Haraboji’s, and as I entered the restaurant, I noticed my perfectly punctual assistant had already beaten me to the establishment.

“Mr. Reynolds, over here!” He waved at me from a seat at the bar. I felt silly for being this excited, considering we ate together in restaurants every other day, but this was no work-lunch. This was a Saturday night dinner. A date.

“Parker, hey,” I said, smiling down at my companion for the evening. He was still wearing his jacket, a stylish, olive-green duffle coat. He had on a pair of platform Chelsea boots and dark chinos. “Please, call me Andy, or Andrew—even Drew would be fine.” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “I guess we aren’t in the office.”

“That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he replied. “I’ve wanted to eat here with you for months.”

“I’ve heard this place is really good.”

“Have you ever had Korean barbecue before?” he asked. “I haven’t been to a Korean restaurant since I moved here.”

“I haven’t, but you know I’ll try anything. I trust you to make sure I have something tasty.”

After that the hostess called Parker’s name and we were seated. It was pretty crowded, every table filled. In front of us was a little grilling station. Our waiter came and Parker took the reins, ordering what seemed like a lot of food for just two people. He asked for bulgogi, pork belly, garlic butter chicken, and brisket. He also ordered fried seaweed rolls and tteokbokki. Our waiter brought out a lot of little dishes with different vegetables on them.

“These are banchan—um, side dishes,” Parker explained. “They’re really good with the grilled meats. That one is cucumber, that one is potato, and that one is zucchini.”

“And that one is kimchi.”

“Yes, exactly!”

Our waiter returned with another worker to assist him. One of them held our appetizers, the other numerous plates of raw meat on a serving platter. Once all the plates were set out in front of us, it seemed truly excessive. Parker got to work immediately, oiling the grill and placing meat on it strategically. As things were cooked he piled them high on my plate. Everything tasted great and I followed every suggestion he gave me. “Eat this with that,” he’d say, hyper focused on his grilling. “Ooo, you’ve got to try that with this dipping sauce.”

Halfway through the meal, I noticed that he was no longer eating. I seemed to be his main priority. I was now regretting my earlier boldness when getting dressed for this outing. My sweater rose slightly on my stomach exposing the light layer of dark hair on my underbelly. Parker didn’t stop either, making sure to cook every piece of meat that had been provided to us.

“There’s also Korean fried chicken on the menu,” he said, having just finished grilling the last bit of bulgogi and pork belly. “They come in orders of four.”

I groaned slightly, sitting back in my seat and resting my hand on the top of my gut.

That was when the waiter returned, taking in my gorged state his face reddened on my behalf and he focused his attention on Parker. “Is there anything else I can get for you guys?”

“Yes, we wanted a double order of the fried chicken wings and a bottle of peach soju.”

The waiter glanced in my direction and then back at Parker. He probably couldn’t believe we were ordering more food. I couldn’t believe we were ordering more food, but my date was a man on a mission. We did have about forty minutes before we needed to be at the theater, but I still thought he was cutting it close.

“I’ll put that in right now.” I waited for our server to leave before speaking. 

“I’m spilling out of my sweater and you're still shoving food in my direction.”

“Andy,” he said innocently. “You don’t want to be hungry while the show is going on. You said so yourself, remember?”

“How considerate of you,” I responded, sitting up. I grabbed my fork and started in on the last bit of meat he’d put on my plate. “And I can’t wait to thank you at my place after the show.”

After dinner at Haraboji’s, we made our way to the theater for the musical. I’d already parked my Buick Enclave in a parking garage on the same street as the restaurant. He informed me that he picked this restaurant not only because he’d been wanting to try it, but also because it was only a block away from where we’d be seeing the show.

I was so full I didn’t feel like doing anything, especially walking. I was perspiring a little bit so I left my jacket open to air myself out. I could feel a cool breeze on my stomach, but I just ignored it. Parker was leading the way, glancing my way every so often to check me out. If his parents hadn’t gone through the trouble of buying him these tickets, we’d already be halfway to my place.

We made it to the lobby and the worker scanned the tickets on Parker’s phone. There was about ten minutes until the show would start so we made our way to our seats. This was where things got awkward.

Personally, when purchasing tickets in advance, I always tried to get the seat closest to the aisle. But these two seats were right in the middle of a row. Not everyone was in their seats yet, but we’d still need to shimmy past five or so people. Parker seemed somewhat oblivious to this issue, and in his defense, he likely never faced this sort of problem. Being bigger meant anticipating any obstacle. Would there be a lot of walking? Would there be a lot of stairs? How sturdy were the seats? I’d always thought about these things, but having gained fifty pounds in the last five months created even more complications I needed to be ready for.

“Excuse us,” Parker said, making his way into the row. He got by the first person with ease, whereas the man needed to stand up for me and press himself as far back into his seat as possible. Even then, my gut pushed up against him as I made my way past him. This happened four more times until we made it to our seats.

I sat in the chair and it creaked loudly. It was a really tight squeeze. This was not a theater that had been updated this century. It had probably been forty or fifty years since there had been any type of alteration to the seating. The armrests could not be lifted, so I sat there as they dug into the sides of my bloated gut. Fuck, I thought. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone so hard at dinner.

“Isn’t there like a special section for bigger people?” the woman next to me asked the man she was with. She was at least trying to whisper, but considering the fact I was sitting right next to her that didn’t do much to keep me from hearing her. “It’s just, these seats are so small, you know? Even for someone regularly sized.”

I’d been feeling pretty good before all of this happened. I was used to people making comments. But something about this made me really think hard about what I’d been doing to my body. I was already fat. I’d already had horrible eating habits. But should I have let this thing with Parker push me so completely into gluttony? I was the one who had to deal with the wardrobe malfunctions and too-small theater seats. 

Parker was a great person and a masterful lover, but he was also ten years younger than me. If this dalliance were to end, he could go about his life unchanged. But me? How much bigger would I be by the time he got bored of me?

“Andy,” Parker said, his hand on my thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. This wasn’t the time or place to share my thoughts with him.

“I didn’t pick the seats,” he explained. “Next time, I’ll make sure that we’re on the end.” 

“Thanks.” I exhaled, feeling a little better. Him saying that didn’t absolve all of my fears, but it reminded me of how thoughtful Parker was. Maybe he didn’t know what it was like to be my size, but he did try to consider how my size affected my day-to-day life.

The lights dimmed and the show started a few minutes later. It was pretty funny and the music was enjoyable. I never thought a musical adaptation of an 80’s fantasy-horror-comedy would be any good, but I’d see it again if given the chance. After the cast took their bows we waited for our row to clear out before we got up. I could tell he really enjoyed himself, so that made the two and half hours in that seat from hell worth it.

“I Ubered here from my apartment,” he said once we were outside.

“I’m in that parking garage by the restaurant,” I said. “I could give you a ride home.”

“You did say you needed to thank me at dinner.”

“Oh, I know just how to thank you.” It was nearly ten, and aside from the people who were also leaving the theater, there weren’t a ton of people around. I grabbed Parker’s hand and we went to my car. I asked him where he lived and other than that I just listened to all the fun facts he had about the production. We were soon out front. “You’re coming up, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course.” I parked and we made our way towards the entrance. He led me up some stairs to his fourth floor apartment. If he lived any higher, we’d have had to call it a night. His place was pretty small, a one bedroom. It was also super neat and tidy. Everything about Parker was that way.

He took off his jacket and hung it in the closet, offering to take mine too in the process. He told me to take a seat on the couch. I sat and realized how little it was. I guess a couch of this size was all he really needed, but it was more like a chair. I filled it up three-fourths of the way.

He carried in a tray with some vanilla oat milk and a container of cookies. He placed it on the coffee table and sat on the remaining one-fourth of sofa. “Consider these as a thank you for a great evening,” he said. “They’re lemon shortbread.”

“You must spend a fortune on butter and eggs.”

“Not at all, I just started buying in bulk when I realized I had someone to bake for.”

“I appreciate getting to eat everything you’ve made for me,” I said, pulling at my sweater, “though I should probably slow down on all the baked goods.” I looked in his direction, wondering how he’d take in that information. He looked a little hurt, a little embarrassed.

“Is everything okay, Andy?” he asked. “With us, I mean. I just thought—”

I could just keep all of these concerns to myself, but that wouldn’t solve anything. It was probably better to have this conversation now instead of later. “I’ve gained a substantial amount of weight since we started sleeping together. I know we haven’t put into words what this is, but I’m pretty sure you’re a feeder—or an encourager—which term is it?” I thought about all the information I found back when I investigated gay fat fetishes a few months ago.

“I think they’re pretty interchangeable.” He wasn’t looking at me. “And I guess that I am, yes.”  He actually looked super pale. Was he scared? Did he think I was upset? I figured he was aware that he’d been found out months ago. He was always so focused on my weight and overfeeding me. His preferences were kind of obvious.

“I’m not upset,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “If I’m being honest, I’m pretty into it.”

He looked up at me, relief overtaking his previously sullen expression. “You are?”

“I think you know I like to eat. And getting bigger is kind of hot when I have someone so into it.”

“I’m into it for sure.”

“My main concern is how serious you are, Parker.” He looked at me intently, waiting for me to continue speaking. “You’re young. You’re still fairly new to the area. When it comes down to it, you’re a hot commodity. Any guy would be lucky to be with you. With how big I was, with how big I’ve gotten, I’m limiting myself. My prospects were slim before, but I’ve probably made the margins even smaller in regards to my marketability.”

“Andrew, I am very serious about you,” he said. “You are the sexiest guy I’ve ever been with. You’re also the biggest guy I've ever been with. Whatever you’re comfortable with, I am willing to do. If you want to lose weight, that’s fine. If you want me to stop with the baking, that’s fine. I just want you. I like you.”

“I like you too. I have since you first started working for me.” Our eyes were locked on one another. This conversation felt so real, so needed. This guy was serious about me. What a relief. “And let’s not be too hasty about the baking. I’ll let you know if we need to slow down, Mr. Feeder.”

This caused his whole face to redden, all the way to his ears. I loved when that happened. It was so funny to see his emotions so clearly. “Now bring that container of cookies over here. I’m hungry.”

Maybe it was reckless of me. Maybe I should’ve taken the out Parker had offered me. But I kept on eating like I had been. I blew past 400 pounds as we entered the new year. He’d flown home for the holidays, so I spent time with my own family. They all showed great concern for how big I’d gotten, but that didn’t stop them from piling my plate high with soul food at Christmas dinner. That was just how my family operated. It’s why I was so big growing up to begin with.

That first Monday back after the winter holidays was nice because we were able to fall back into our normal routine, which included copious amounts of food and a great deal sex. While most people around the office set goals for having a healthier diet or joining a gym, I did nothing of the sort. It was somewhat freeing to know there was no resolution I was bound to break.

Over the first few months of the new year, Parker began spending more and more time at my apartment. Suddenly there was a toothbrush, and then extra pairs of underwear, and then, an item that let me know how serious things had gotten between us, his KitchenAid Stand Mixer.

“You’re here more than at your place,” I said one Saturday evening in April. We’d ordered pizza for dinner, and even though Parker had stopped eating thirty minutes ago, I was still working on an extra-large, tavern-style sausage and pepperoni. I’d already eaten some buffalo wings and a Caesar salad (for balance, of course). “When does your lease end?”

“Well, it ends August of this year.”

“Cancel it.”

“Cancel it?”

“Yeah,” I said, reaching for another slice. “I’ll pay whatever fee your landlord charges for breaking your lease.”

The next week he moved into my three-bedroom apartment. I had more than enough room for his stuff. Even his dollhouse-sized couch fit comfortably against a wall in the home office. This did mean my office baked goods were a thing of the past. They were never able to last long enough after he prepared them to be brought into work. Since meeting Parker nine months ago, I was now 75 pounds heavier.

Parker and I were going to take a long weekend for Memorial Day. We’d both put in for the day off on Friday and we wouldn’t need to return to the office until Tuesday. I’d rented a house up north, about three hours away. The Thursday before we were to leave, Parker frantically entered my office a little after we returned from lunch.

I was positively beached. We were both looking forward to the weekend and he excitedly ordered for me at Rockin’ Sushi. We had purchased enough sashimi, nigiri, and maki rolls for a party of five or six people.

My belly covered my lap almost to my knees when I sat. I normally didn’t dress so casually for the office, but today I was wearing a polo. The fabric was pulled tight around my stomach and I’d been massaging the sides of my gut before Parker came to find me. If he didn’t seem so distraught, I’d have asked him to take over.

“We can’t go out of town,” he said. “We have to reevaluate your accounts.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes half-open. “I have nine major accounts and twelve smaller ones. That’s more than all the other execs.”

“Yes, that’s true, but—” he stopped talking. He probably felt like he’d been overreacting, but I wanted to make sure his worries were quelled.

“Talk to me.”

“I heard from Mr. Monroe’s assistant, who heard from Mr. Otterly’s assistant, that Mr. Otterly plans to retire at the end of June.” John Otterly was well past the age for retirement. His presence at Hathaway and Associates was really just a formality at this point. He’d been an exec at our agency since the mid-seventies. In his prime, for sure, he was incredible at pulling in clients and coming up with catchy slogans for print ads. Now, he had only one major account for a failing brand of novelty gag-gifts. “They’re looking to promote someone, but they want to make the position more robust by taking some accounts from other executives.”

“Bullshit.”

“Agreed.” He watched me heave myself out of my desk chair. “What should we do?”

“Follow me.”

I might have moved a little bit more slowly these days, but with Parker’s help I’d acquired two new clients in the last nine months and strengthened our agency’s relationship with all my original accounts. I wasn’t just some overweight behemoth who didn’t do any work. I was a heavy hitter. I’d recently had a confidence about myself that, shamefully, came from the idolization and devotion Parker gave to me. I was the biggest I’d ever been, but I didn’t feel ashamed of myself. I was already going to draw attention entering a room so I might as well not give a fuck what people thought.

We stopped outside of William Hathaway’s office, whose grandfather had actually founded Hathaway and Associates almost a century ago. We executives kept things running while he received a great deal of the credit, considering he was only in office two days a week. He did hold a forty-five percent share on the board of directors, which was the largest portion of any member. This meant he had a great deal of influence when the board made the large decisions that affected day-to-day operations.

“He’s preparing to leave early for the holiday weekend,” his administrative assistant said plainly. She was also the office manager. Mr. Hathaway’s schedule allowed her to take on more responsibilities, so she helped to organize the tasks for the interns and other assistants. “He doesn’t want to be bothered, especially after the meeting he just had.”

“Martha,” Parker said gently, smiling in her direction. “Mr. Reynolds was hoping to speak with Mr. Hathaway before he left. If he’s not terribly busy, would you please let him?”

“I don’t know. He was pretty adamant that he didn’t want to see anyone else.”

“Didn’t you say your husband liked the chocolate-dipped almond biscotti I made you for your anniversary?”

“Those were divine,” she said, taking more interest in Parker’s plea. I remembered those biscotti. I’d eaten two test batches before he felt confident enough to share them with Martha.

“Weren’t they?” I added. “I don’t know how he does it, but he’s incredibly talented.”

“My husband’s birthday is coming up,” she pondered aloud. “Have you ever made a cake before?”

“Of course!”

They ironed out some details and settled on a tiramisu inspired layer cake. She hopped out of her seat giddily and went to inform Hathaway of our arrival. We got the go ahead to enter and there he was waiting for us behind his desk nursing a scotch.

“Reynolds, you’re bigger every time I see you.”

Hathaway wasn’t one to mince words.

“You’re one to talk. I’m not the only one carrying around a spare tire.” This made him laugh.

“I’m in my sixties, what’s your excuse?” He didn’t stop. “And I’ve got a spare tire, you’ve got a whole Goodyear.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, allowing him to think his ribbing had gotten to me. “I’m just eating good. And my assistant here is a master baker.”

“He is, eh?” Hathaway asked, drinking from his scotch. “You're the biscotti boy?”

“Yes sir. That’s me.”

“Martha, that stingy bitch, only let me have one. Said they were for her anniversary. I’ve got an anniversary. And a birthday.”

“I’ll get those dates from Martha, sir.” Hathaway gave an impressed smirk and took another sip from his drink.

After that, we were finally able to talk business. I asked about Otterly. His retirement was true, a decision “strongly encouraged” by all members of the board. The position being padded with the accounts of other executives was also true. We would be asked in the coming month to choose one or two of our large scale accounts to let go of. When I asked why they didn’t just cut the position, they were concerned about losing their lead copywriter, who voiced concerns about a lack of upward mobility at Hathaway and Associates. He claimed he’d be willing to walk away from the agency unless he was seriously considered for Otterly’s position. 

That lead copywriter? Mark.

If it were anyone else, I would have thought twice about my next course of action. But for Mark? I couldn't care less.

“Well,” I started, hoping I was playing this right. “I say cut Otterly’s position. Give his few accounts to one of us execs, and if he walks, he walks.”

“He’s done good work,” Hathaway offered.

“You can save a great deal by cutting the position. Promote one of the junior copywriters to Mark’s position. And for good measure, Parker here can take the open junior copywriter role.” Parker made a sound of surprise but did his best to recover.

“Biscotti boy?”

“He’s got the Andrew Reynolds seal of approval.” This meant a great deal. I had the most accounts out of all eleven execs. I also had the greatest renewal rates. “I’d be losing the world’s greatest assistant, but I’d do anything for Hathaway and Associates.”

“My great-niece did just graduate from Columbia,” Hathaway said. “I’m sure she’ll need help finding a job with a degree in art history.” If I had to deal with another nepo-baby, so be it. I was keeping my accounts and helping Parker advance in his career.

“Just think about it,” I said, ending our conversation. As we left his office, Martha entered. Before the door closed completely, I heard him mentioning that the board needed to convene after the holiday weekend to vote about an important matter. I had a good feeling that things were going to change for my little Biscotti Boy.

We did still manage to make it up to the house I rented. Fortunately, it was somewhat secluded, the houses pretty far apart from each other. They were only really visible to one another from the front yard. Parker had a long list of grocery items he needed, so our first stop after checking into the rental was the local supercenter. He was obviously grateful for what I’d done in Hathaway’s office, and he spent the weekend showing me that gratitude with his culinary skills and physical flexibility. My favorite memory from our trip would be how he’d gotten me on the floor after grilling some brats and making s’mores.

“Okay, so bend your knees,” he said, swinging his leg around my waist after tossing me a pillow for underneath my head. There wasn’t a ton of space between my bent knees and my bulging belly, but Parker fit there perfectly. He looked down at me as he sat atop my waist, sliding all nine inches of my penis inside himself. He rested his hands on my stomach. Their warmth penetrated me to my core. 

I reached up to grab at his butt as he rode me. It felt good in my hands, and the thought of what it looked like as I fucked him had me salivating. Always the hard worker, Parker swiveled his hips back and forth rhythmically. His dick was angled upwards, sandwiched between the bottom of my gut and his flat stomach. He leaned forward slightly, his hands sliding up my stomach to my chest. He grabbed my slightly puffy nipples and pinched them gently. That intensified the pleasure I was feeling and I lifted him slightly by raising my legs, pushing myself deeper inside of his ass. 

“Oh God,” he moaned, sitting straight up. He bounced up and down like this for nearly a minute before he came. His cum shot up his front, some landing on the floor and on my gut. The look of sheer pleasure on his face was intoxicating. That did it for me too, and had me shooting my load as well.

We stayed on the floor longer than intended. I couldn’t get up just yet, so he covered both of our naked bodies with a large blanket and cuddled up close to me. Losing him as my assistant was going to be tough, but moments like these would make up for it.

Returning to work on Tuesday was fine. I’d have preferred another week in a secluded lake house with Parker, but the real world was waiting for us. Antoinette was in rare form, flitting from assistant to assistant spreading gossip. She was Hathaway and Associates' very own Lady Whistledown, though a lot less discreet. 

Before lunch, the board met to discuss the future of Mr. Otterly’s position. Antoinette made sure everyone knew how they voted, openly voicing her dismay that her good friend Mark would not be shifting to an executive role, as John Otterly’s position would be closed and his accounts redistributed amongst some of the remaining executives.

The ball was now in Mark’s court. He could keep his current job or he could quit. I was hoping for the latter, so Parker could shine in the field he’d gone to school for.

We worked all day and at exactly five we clocked out. We entered the elevator and Mark followed behind us. “That’s some shit you pulled Andy,” he spat. I noticed a cardboard box in his hands.

“You’re referring to what exactly?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh please,” he said. “You get a little ass from your assistant and you’re bending over backwards to get him a promotion. It’s pathetic, but it makes a lot of sense. Why else would he ever waste his time trying to find your dick under that massive gut?”

“You’re out of line,” I said, stepping towards him.

“He’s a sneak and you’re a gullible, desperate, sorry excuse for a professional.” He was upset, understandably, but his job had still been intact. He could’ve continued in his role as lead copywriter, a position I held for over four years before my promotion, and one day he’d be seen as ready to move up in the agency. He’d only been lead copywriter for a year and a half, a role in which he’d been given when the previous lead stepped down to take care of her newborn twins. Mark expected things to be handed to him without putting in the work. Now he was throwing a tantrum, and he wanted to take out his anger on us because he thought we were easy targets.

“Have you ever considered the fact that you just aren’t that likable?” I asked, staring down at him, forcing him into the corner of the elevator. “You’re talented, sure, but you are just so fucking hard to like. Hathaway knows this, the other execs know this. Why do you think it was so easy to encourage them to close Otterly’s position? They don’t want to work any more closely with you than they already do.”

I looked down at the cardboard box. Like a baby, he’d quit when he didn’t get his way. “Or should I say did?”

The elevator stopped on the main floor and the doors opened. Mark looked up at me and then over at Parker. “Fuck the both of you,” he said, pushing past me with slight difficulty. Parker looked pretty mortified, his entire face red with embarrassment.

My little ingénue. He was still very green, and I loved that about him, but I needed him to stand up for himself if he was going to survive in this industry. People made jokes or rude comments. There’d be backstabbing and petty office gossip. At the end of the day it didn’t matter. I was proof of that. There’d been talk about my weight for months, and I was still one of the most successful people on staff.

I’d for sure been in a slump before I met Parker, but I was becoming the man I’d been in my early twenties (metaphorically, not physically). There was a lot less self-doubt and self-loathing. I liked looking at myself in the mirror. I knew that I was good at what I did, and I knew I just needed to carry myself like I had when I was grinding as a junior copywriter. 

“That was really intense,” he said. We’d slowed, pausing in a stairwell. We were halfway between the lobby and the underground parking garage. “I would never sleep with you for that. I swear that I would never do that.”

“I know.” I felt myself smiling. It made me feel good that he liked me so much. His first thought was how I felt. He was always looking out for me, and if he did get a new role as a copywriter, no assistant would ever live up to what he was capable of.

“I love you,” he said, looking at me seriously. I couldn’t believe he’d just said that to me. How we’d gotten to this point, I’d never fully grasp, but I was glad that we did.

“I love you too,” I said. We were silent for a moment, and I took the opportunity to joke with him. “And I have to say, what an elaborate scheme you pulled. The baked goods, the lunches, the head. All for a promotion. You’re truly a mastermind.”

He laughed, swatting me on the ass. “And this is only Phase One. Mu-ha-ha.”

“What’s Phase Two?”

“Hmm, I’ll let you know when I think of it.”

“Maybe you aren’t the mastermind I thought you were—”

“Shut up!” he said, laughing. “Now let’s get you something good to eat for defending my honor.”

A month later, Parker was officially offered a position as a junior copywriter. He’d taken me shopping for some summer clothing items—both work attire and casual items. The number of X’s on my shirts and shorts was a little shocking, but he did have a knack for picking flattering cuts and patterns. I may have been over 400 pounds, but I’d never looked more stylish.

“Are you ready yet?” Parker called from the living room. It was the last Saturday in June and all of Parker’s old roommates from California were in town for the last weekend of Pride and to celebrate his promotion.

“Yeah,” I called in response. I walked out of our bedroom. “But you’re sure you want me to wear this to meet your friends?”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “It’s just a pair of shorts and a polo. It’s not risqué.”

The shorts were much shorter than I’d buy for myself, but they did fit me very well. They were a good three inches above my knees. He saw them on some Instagram ad and bought me three different pairs. The polo was much more out of my comfort zone. It was cream-colored and a crochet knit. You could see glimpses of my brown skin through the hundreds of small holes that made up the shirt.

“But it seems like you guys want to dance and that’s not really my scene anymore. Can’t you all celebrate tonight and then we all meet up for brunch tomorrow?”

“Okay, what about we all meet up tonight and go out to brunch tomorrow morning?” he countered in rhetorical fashion. “And besides, if you don’t want to burn any calories, you can just have some bar food and a beer.”

“They have those soft pretzels there don’t they?”

“They sure do,” he said, handing me my keys. “Now let’s go please.”

Fortunately I was able to find a good parking spot not too far from the bar. I parked and we walked the block to Dudes. The day had cooled considerably, which I was grateful for. It’d been in the eighties, but it was only about seventy now that the sun had set. They asked to see Parker’s ID and then we made our way inside.

“Parker!” I looked for who had shouted his name. It was another Asian guy who was about Parker’s height.

“Yedam, hey!” Parker looked at me. “Andy, this is Yedam. Yedam, this is my boyfriend Andy.”

“Oh wow,” Yedam said, taking me in. He smiled, like he was trying to stifle a laugh. “Um, it’s nice to meet you.” He locked eyes with Parker, raising his eyebrows theatrically. Was this a good interaction or not? I was having trouble reading the situation. Two other guys made their way to where we stood, both holding drinks. One of the guys handed a glass to Yedam.

“Mike, Sam, this is my boyfriend Andy.” Mike was white and very blond. Sam was black, a little lighter than I was. Overall, they all had the same vibe as Parker. Very put-together, the same height and build.

“This makes sense,” Sam said, gesturing back and forth with his pointer finger between Parker and I.

“Oh yeah, a thousand percent,” Mike added.

I felt like I was missing something, but I was hopeful Parker would fill me in later. The guys all told me I was very handsome and very large. It wasn’t in a sarcastic way, or a flirtatious way even. They presented it like they were simply stating facts. I ordered my pretzels and a round of shots for Parker and his friends. They were all laughing and joking and hanging off of one another. It was almost enough to make me jealous,  but I knew I was what Parker wanted. I didn’t need to worry about his friends.

After another shot Parker pulled me towards the crowded dance floor. “Ready?” he asked, leaning into me.

“I thought I was supposed to drink my beer and eat bar food.” I scanned the whole place; I was the biggest guy in the entire club.

“You’ve got all night to eat bar food. You can dance with me for a few minutes.” He started to move his body and I did too. I wasn’t a bad dancer; it was just something I tended to avoid. He turned slowly, his butt against my crotch.

It seemed like the music got faster and louder, and the entire time I couldn’t take my eyes off of Parker. He was absolutely gorgeous. I leaned down, kissing his neck. He lifted his arms, wrapping them around my neck. I stepped back and felt a foot under me. 

“Shit, man, watch where you’re going! You’re gonna break someone’s foot!” This guy was drunk.

“What was that?” I asked. Six months ago, I’d have left the dance floor completely mortified. But now, why would I ever stop living my life because I took up just a little too much space? The world was a big place, and people would just have to make room for me.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, adjusting his tone. “Just be more careful. Sorry.”

“That dude was an ass,” Parker said, turning to face me, resting his hands on my waist.

“As crowded as it is, I was bound to step on someone’s foot.” I leaned down so I didn’t have to shout this next part so loudly. “Although it does probably hurt a little more when the one doing the stepping is over 425 pounds.” Parker smiled at me, and I think it was a relief to him that I was being a good sport. 

“Parker! Andy!” It was Sam waving us over to the bar.

He and the rest of Parker’s friends wanted to do another shot and my pretzels were waiting for me. “They were just delivered,” Yedam said. “And we didn’t want them to get cold.”

The rest of the night went pretty well. Parker was always so reserved and in control of himself, so it was nice to see him having fun and letting loose. They were all pretty toasted by midnight, and Mike drunkenly started talking about getting something to eat.

“Why did we drink so much?” he bemoaned, leaning against Yedam as we left the bar. “We should’ve gotten dinner before the bar.”

“You were the one convinced you were getting laid tonight,” Sam stated, stumbling right along next to them.

“Andy knows a place,” Parker said, leaning against me. “Isn’t Sub Daddy’s second location near here?”

“Uh, yeah, it is,” I offered. “I can drive, though you all better not puke.”

“We won’t!” they all sang in unison.

We made it to my Buick unscathed, and I made sure everyone was buckled up. Looking at Parker in the seat next to me and his three drunk besties in the back seat was hilarious to me. It looked like I’d kidnapped a bunch of intoxicated twinks.

“So did Parker used to bake a lot when you all lived together?” I asked, making conversation as we drove.

“Constantly,” Yedam said, sounding comically exasperated. “We had this neighbor.”

“Oh yeah!” Mike interjected. “Big Idris.”

“Your neighbor went by ‘Big Idris?’ Seriously?” I asked.

“Of course not!” Sam exclaimed, cracking up. “I think his real name was Tyler or something?”

“Tyson,” Parker clarified, his entire face and ears covered in a red blush that I didn’t think was entirely from the alcohol.

“Tyson, right,” Sam continued. “We called him Big Idris because he was hot like a young Idris Elba, but much bigger. I mean, not huge.” There was a slight pause, as if he was second guessing his next statement. “Like you’re way bigger than he was.”

“Okay, so he wasn’t fat-fat, got it.”

“So anyway, Big Idris was our neighbor across the hall. When we moved in at the start of our fall semester junior year, Parker baked little treats for everyone on the floor. Big Idris was the only one who came back asking for seconds.” The three of them roared with laughter. I could see where this story was going. Yedam continued the tale.

“It was just like when we were in the dorms. He didn’t have access to a kitchen, but Parker made sure this guy who lived on the floor above us never went without a snack. Insomnia Cookies should probably erect a statue in Parker’s honor. What was his name? Owen?”

“Yes, Owen,” Parker confirmed.

“So Owen, the ex-football player, ended the year having put on the freshman fifteen.”

“Plus fifteen,” Mike added.

“Plus fifteen,” Sam followed. They all cracked up again. Parker was definitely an anomaly to them. An oddity that made for interesting stories. Their sex lives were probably pretty tame compared to what Parker and I were into.

“Owen was nothing like Big Idris though,” Yedam said. “Those 45 pounds were nothing compared to the almost a hundred Big Idris gained living across the hall from us for two years.”

Mike spoke next, saying, “To be fair, it wasn’t all Parker. This guy liked to eat, and he was always ordering DoorDash or UberEats.” 

“But Parker wasn’t innocent,” Sam said. “He baked him a different type of cookie at least three times a week.”

“What happened to Big Idris?” I asked, now extremely curious.

“His girlfriend moved in and Parker moved here to start his new job. She’s definitely helped him change his diet around. You can tell he’s lost some weight, not eating as much take-out. But he for sure doesn’t seem as happy as when Parker was visiting his apartment at two in the morning.”

“That’s a shame,” Parker said. Now that had me cracking up as I pulled into the Sub Daddy parking lot. Of course Parker would be upset to hear that all his hard work was being undone.

We went inside and ordered, and the four of them decided to split two sandwiches, which was funny because I ordered two sandwiches for myself. We sat and ate, the four of them passing tiny bags of chips back and forth to supplement their little sandwiches. After we finished eating I drove them back to their Airbnb. We made plans to meet up for brunch the next afternoon, and I was very interested to hear more about Parker as a sexy coed with feeder tendencies.

Parker was only slightly hungover the next morning. We hung out with his friends again in the afternoon. They mostly shared stories, while I mostly ate boujee brunch food. We said our goodbyes and they made plans to get together again soon. They all still lived in the old apartment, at least until their lease ended in the fall. Overall, the weekend had been a success, and I was sure Parker was excited to start his new position come Tuesday.

Monday he’d be training his replacement.

“So make sure his lunch is ordered at eleven so that he’s able to eat by noon,” Parker stated matter-of-factly. 

He had been with my new assistant all morning. She was a nice girl, and I could tell she was already a little overwhelmed by all the things Parker expected her to remember. I think Parker was sad to be shifting to a new position, even though he was really excited to be doing what he dreamed of. 

He would be on an entirely different side of the office. It was probably for the best that we had a bit of space from each other. We didn’t want to become one of those couples that couldn’t function without the other.

But still, he knew me better than anyone. I didn’t have to think about my next move because he’d already anticipate it. 

“Parker, can I see you in my office for a moment?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” he said before turning his attention to my new assistant. “Nicolette, we can go over the best times to schedule Mr. Reynolds for a meeting after you get back from your break.” She couldn’t grab her purse fast enough. She was probably going to be updating her LinkedIn and putting in applications on Indeed.

“You need to go a bit easier on her,” I said once we were behind closed doors. “Remember that's Hathaway’s great-niece.”

“I didn’t have anyone to show me the ropes when I started,” he said. “I just want to make sure she knows what to do so things go smoothly for you.”

“I’ll be okay, babe.”

“Fine. I’ll dial it back.”

“So how about a quickie for old time’s sake?” He laughed, but he immediately loosened his tie.

I ended up seated behind my desk with my pants around my ankles. He was completely nude, claiming he didn’t want to chance getting a stain on his clothes. He kneeled in front of me and reached into my desk drawer. He grabbed a tiny bottle of lube. He squirted a moderate amount in his palm before wrapping his hand around my erection. He pumped my dick slowly, covering it with the lube. 

I watched him stand with his back to me. I got to my feet, grabbing the bottle of lube from him and covering his hole with some of it, massaging it with my fingers. Being between his fat cheeks was always a pleasure. It was the only fatty part about him, and I loved grabbing his ass roughly in these moments. I bent my knees before angling my dick so there’d be a smooth entry and pushed my penis into him slowly. I leaned my body on top of him, my gut resting on his back as I rocked my hips back and forth. I felt his body relaxing as I found a good rhythm. I continued to thrust my hips and he did his best to stifle his moans.

“I’m your biggest success story,” I said breathily, pushing a bit more forcefully. “I just know your friends are going to be shocked the next time they see me.”

“Uh—” he whimpered, his knees buckling slightly.

“Say it,” I said. “Say that you’re gonna make me bigger.”

“I–I’m gonna make you bigger.” He tugged at his dick desperately. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“500 isn’t that far off,” I said, not entirely believing it myself. Would he want me to get that big? He did tell me that I was the biggest person he’d ever been with. Could he handle that? Could I?

“Oh fuck!” he panted, doing his best to catch his cum in his hand. I gave a few final pushes before filling him with my cum. I pulled myself from inside of him and we both got cleaned up. He got dressed, looking positively pristine, like nothing lewd had just taken place in my office. 

That’s when he turned to me and said, “I hope you’re ready for lunch.”

He had a look in his eye that let me know our sex talk wasn’t just talk. Parker had goals, and I liked a man with motivation.

I sure knew how to hire ‘em.

The End!

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 7

Hello!! This story is moving right along and we finally get to the training part, I don't know anything about swimming except for what I've researched so if the coaching is wrong let me know via DMs or asks, not in the comments please!

Also! Bitchy Steve is almost as good as a Wet Steve. I don't make the rules.

Eddie does.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~

Some weekends were better than others when it came to sitting by the pool and watching his friends swim. He watch Eddie glide soundlessly through the water, like a shark sensing its prey, and wished he could get into the pool with them.

But it was just impossible not to replay the rushing water surrounding him as he sunk to the bottom of the pool. He had been told time and time again by doctors that he shouldn’t be able to remember that, as he had been unconscious when it happened.

So what if it was his imagination or whatever. The fact was he couldn’t have the water be higher than his head when both feet were planted on the floor of the pool. Yes, there were shallow ends of the pool where it was only three, four, or even five feet, but his brain kept telling him it was a lie. That the water would engulf him again and he would drown.

And this time he would die.

The fact that all that shit was irrational as hell didn’t matter. Steve figured that’s what bothered Tommy the most about it. That it was all such bullshit. It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.

That and Robin was the one to dive and save him, when Tommy had froze.

They were having a small celebration congratulating Eddie on finishing his five hundred hours of community service. His last day was on a Wednesday because of the weird amount of hours. Hopper was there, Joyce and Murray, too. Wayne. All of the friends he had made working there. Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, the kids. And of course Steve.

About half way through the party Eddie sidled up to him and bumped him with his shoulder. “You going to miss me, Harrington?”

Steve let out a laugh. “Miss getting soaked to the skin every Saturday? Not a chance in hell.”

Eddie smiled and then chewed his lip for a moment. He had been thinking about getting to use the pool every week for three months and how that was ending now. He had been thinking about how much he would miss everyone, but especially Steve.

“You’ve seen me swim for a few weeks now,” he hedged, “do you really think I’ve got a chance at the Olympics?”

Steve turned to him in shock. Eyes wide and jaw on the floor. “Fuck, Eds, given proper training I think you could outswim me.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. He remembered what his uncle had said about Steve before the accident. That ‘the greatest of all time’ was thrown around a lot. And Steve thought he could top that?

“And you’d be the one to train me?” he asked nervously. “No on else?” Because that was the other issue. He had heard horror stories about how the coaches were snobs and how they would look down at him as a charity case.

“Oh yeah,” Steve said excitedly. “Joyce was telling me about this program where the rec center will pay for all the lessons, the competitions, and even the travel expenses. Robin told me that they had something similar when she started swimming, too. Hell, even Max is thinking of doing it. So it would be me coaching you and her and you would have your own time slots and everything.”

Eddie laughed at how fast that little statement was. He could tell Steve was really excited about it. “Okay. On one condition.”

Steve cocked his head to the side as Eddie pulled out a business card out of his pocket and handed it to him.

Dr. Rhys Hughes, Psychiatrist and Licensed Therapist.

“This is a friend of mine’s dad,” Eddie explained. “He specializes in phobias. I don’t know if he can help you get back in the water, but at least you’ll be able to process what happened to you. He said he’s even willing to do it for free, so you can get the help you need.”

Steve ran his thumb over the raised print and thought about it. It was a small price to pay, he thought, to get Eddie into the Olympics. And who knows, maybe he could get back into the water with him.

He stuck out his hand for Eddie to shake. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

The answering smile was blinding as Eddie shook his hand.

~

Steve stood with Joyce at the front of the rec center, nervously chewing on the skin around his nails.

“Stop that!” she said, smacking his hands away. “He’ll be here.”

He wished she had her confidence. Hell he wished he any confidence at all at this point. He used to have fucking swagger. But now days he was just a bundle of nerves.

“When is your first appointment with Dr. Hughes?” she asked, mostly to get his mind off the fact that Eddie was running late.

“Tomorrow after my last class,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets to avoid the temptation of chewing on his fingers.

“To be honest,” he continued, “I think I’m more worried about my appointment then I am coaching Eddie. Coaching is easy, processing my trauma? Not so much.”

She gave his arm a squeeze but before she could say anything, Eddie’s van roared into the parking lot and skidded into a close parking spot. His van stuck out among the BMW, Mercedes, and Lexus cars that were the other coaches cars. Hell, even Steve had his BMW from when he got his first gold.

Eddie leapt out of his van and dashed up to them. “Oh my god, I am so sorry, I had to drop Wayne off work because his truck wouldn’t start. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re okay, Eddie,” Joyce soothed. “We need to get the paper work for the scholarship taken care of before you get into the pool. As always, Robin will be assisting Steve, he’s gotten permission to use her.”

Eddie and Steve followed her into her office where Steve and Eddie filled out a mountain’s worth of paper work between them.

Then they handed it all to Joyce who took it from them with a smile. “Go have fun. It’s Coaches Matthews and Ford today with Hannah and Lisa.”

Steve groaned. Andrew Ford and Haley Matthews were the worst of the coaches. They were utter snobs who thought their little darlings were God’s gift to swimming, when in reality they hadn’t even medaled in a meet the whole three years they had been coaching Hannah and Lisa.

“Oh come on, now,” Joyce admonished. “They aren’t that bad. You won’t even be in the same pool. Andy and Haley will be in the pool at the far end, while you and Eddie will be in the pool next to the endless pool area. So I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“Come on Eddie,” Steve said, waving him along and Eddie fell in step beside him.

“Um...” Eddie said, chewing on his bottom lip, “these coaches are going to be worse than Joyce thinks, aren’t they?”

Steve let out a long sigh. “Yeah, they are. But as she pointed out we will only see them coming and going, so that will limit our interactions.”

“So what is an endless pool?” Eddie asked as they neared the dressing rooms.

Steve grinned. “I love it. It’s basically a small pool that has currents running so it can test your strength and endurance. I use it all the time to keep up this physique!” He motioned at his his torso and Eddie’s eyes went wide.

He just nodded as Steve chuckled.

They got to the dressing rooms to see Robin surrounded by Haley, Hannah, and Lisa. Hannah was a bleached blonde with faux tanned skin and blue eyes which was the only natural thing about her. And yes that included her breasts. Lisa was a natural blonde, but her eyes were green and she had braces. Haley was the only brunette. Her long dark hair reached the middle of her back in waves, but it was pulled up into a pony tail. Her hazel eyes were cold and calculating.

Eddie hated them on sight.

They were bombarding her with questions about why she was there, was she the coach or was she being Steve’s bitch again. Shit like that.

“The only bitch here, ladies,” Steve said with a menacing grin, “is me. And I don’t take lightly to people harassing my best friend, so you better move along.”

All three girls whirled to face him.

“Steve!” Haley purred. She walked up to him and put her hand on his arm. “We were just having a friendly chat.” She chewed on her bottom lip and batted her eyelashes up at him. “There’s nothing to see here, right?”

Eddie scoffed. “Whether that works on Steve or not, it sure the hell won’t work on me. My gay ass is totally going to report you to Joyce for harassing Robin.”

Haley released Steve’s arm like she had been burned and whipped her head to face him. She took in his long hair and tattoos peaking out of his sleeves and above his collar.

“Who let the trash in?” she huffed with an arched eyebrow.

“Honey,” Steve bit back, hand on his hip. “The only trash here is you, now why don’t they three of you run along to the losers’ pool, while Eddie, Robin, and I take the winners’ pool and never the twain shall meet? Mmk?”

If Eddie was a cartoon character he would have had his jaw on the floor, tongue lulled out, and complete heart-eyes.

Fucking hell.

“Come on, girls,” Haley said coldly. “We don’t want to mix with the have-nots.”

The three girls left, chins in the air and looking down their noses at them both.

After they had left Steve rolled his eyes. “At least we missed Andy. He’s the worst.” He turned to Robin. “You okay? That looked pretty intense when we walked around the corner.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “I thought they were going to devour you for sure.”

“I’m fine,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I wasn’t going to tell them shit, though. I hate those types of people; thinking that just because they’re rich, they must have all the talent. Especially with the fact that I made it to the Olympics and dropped out because the pressure was too great. I could outswim all of them, you wouldn’t even see them on the fucking camera. I just couldn’t take all the world’s eyes on me.”

Eddie winced. “I feel that. I’m worried about the pressure too.”

Steve put his hand on his shoulder. “You’ll do fine. I have a feeling you’ll be super nervous before hand and then just soak up the attention once you get out there.”

Eddie blushed and shoved his hair in front of his face.

“We’ll meet you at the endless pool after we get changed,” Steve told her.

Robin nodded and went to go open the room.

Steve and Eddie went into the men’s dressing room to get changed into their swimsuits. Eddie hit the showers first, with Steve taking a little bit longer to get into his shiny new coaching gear.

There was a man already there. He looked like a fucking Greek god. Olive skin, dark hair and eyes, broad shoulders. Immediately Eddie pegged him as the mysterious Andy Ford.

He chose the shower farthest from the guy and turned the water on hot. He was so focused getting completely wet that he didn’t hear the other shower turning off.

“So you’re the charity case,” came the oily voice suddenly next to him. “You’re not what I was expecting.”

Eddie slicked his hair back and turned off the water to face the guy. “Said everyone ever, dude. You aren’t special.”

“Do you really think you can learn anything from someone who can’t even leave the kiddie pool?” Andy asked, batting his eyelashes innocently.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Eddie said crossing his arms in front of his chest and putting all his weight on his back foot, to put distance between him and slimy. “But I don’t see your lot lining up to take his place.”

Andy raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down. “You’re what? Eighteen, nineteen? You’re far too old to be training for this now. You’ll only be humiliated out there. I’m just trying to save whatever dignity you have left.”

Eddie scoffed and whipped his hair back, splashing the guy in the face. “I’ve been training since I was ten, I just had a short little break there for high school.” He patted Andy’s shoulder as walked past. “Besides just how many Olympic medals do you have?”

Steve burst out laughing behind Andy. “He’s got you there, Andy. You’ve never even been to the Olympics and neither has any of your pupils. So yeah, maybe check your ego at the door.”

He turned on the shower right where Andy was standing, causing the man to shriek and run away from the sudden water hitting him, Steve’s laugh following him out of the dressing room.

~

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Tag List: CLOSED

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10- @aol19 @eriquin @tartarusknight @gloomysoup @morallyundefined

[crazycurly-77]

Alone with Gibbs

“Nononono! You can't be serious. You can't do this to me!” you pleaded with Tim and Kate, who were both going on vacation for the next two weeks. 

“I don't even have Tony as support and fellow sufferer, because he had to go on an undercover mission” you explained to them desperately. 

At least Tim looked a little guilty, but didn't say anything. Kate smiled warmly at you realizing that you were starting to panic and tried to comfort you “come on, he isn't so bad at all. I'm sure it will be hard, but you'll survive.”

“You condemn me to two weeks working alone with Gibbs. One of us won't survive this!” 

“Who won't survive what?” you heard the deep voice from your boss directly in your ear. 

“He's standing right behind me, isn't he” you stated and Tim and Kate nodded. 

You prepared for the upcoming head-slap, but it never came. Instead he was walking to his desk, grabbed the keys to the car and said “We have a missing navy Lieutenant. Come on.”

Oh,oh. It's starting right away. 

You rolled your eyes and wished them a wonderful time wholeheartedly. All the while running after him to the elevator. 

Arriving at the car you got in and he drove like hell to Norfolk.

“My goodness, he's bad shit crazy!” Luckily and miraculously you really survived the drive. You exited the car and ran after him to the ship on which the missing soldier did his duty. 

“You only observe. I'm doing the questioning” Gibbs ordered and you nodded. So you two boarded the ship, interrogated the crew, searched the belongings of Ted Fuller in the hope of a hint where he had gone to, but you found none. 

Because of that you drove back to the office to check the files. Again Gibbs was driving like a madman. “Is he only insane, does he try to get killed or did he want to be a racer when he was a kid?” you wondered silently as there was no conversation and you were holding on to the door handle for your dear life. 

Arriving at the office he got out of the car and ordered “park the car and get me a coffee.” You just stared at him open mouthed “what?! Are you serious?” 

He turned to you “you heard me. Why are you still here?” Then he walked into the building and left you seething with anger. 

You sighed and did as you were told. You parked the car, then grabbed coffee for Gibbs and you and went back to the office. Walking up in front of his desk you put down his cup of coffee and wanted to walk over to your own desk. 

But he looked up from the file he was reading and asked “where were you?” 

You looked at him and answered “I did as you told me.”

“And why did it take so long?” 

You only sent him a murderous gaze, turned, finally walked to your desk and sat down. 

Just at this moment you were ordered “find out who he had last spoken to on the phone.” With that he stood up and went to the MTAC. 

You did the needed research and then laid back and began to read your new book “100 ways to kill your boss”. It was really funny and you were totally absorbed in it. 

Suddenly you got a soft head-slap which absolutely startled you, so you let it fall to the ground. Gibbs picked it up, read the title and threw it into the trash can. 

Walking to his desk he said ���I'll tell you number 101: Giving me a heart attack if you actually do your work.”

You huffed, stared at him and then snapped “I DID my work. The last call was at a bar on the naval base.”

At first he did nothing, but stared silently at you. Then he smiled. He Smiled!!! Can you imagine??!! Then the second miracle happened as he said “good! Let's head to the bar. You are driving.”

Proud as you were you ran to the car, got in, startet the car and immediately moved off as Gibbs took his seat, too. 

You drove even 10 mph over the limit and that was quite fast for you. 

You drove nearly 10 minutes in silence and just as you wanted to begin a conversation he said slightly impatiently, “Number 102…driving so slow that I will be dead until we arrive.”

What??!! You couldn't believe it and were for a moment absolutely speechless. Then you replied with a mischievous grin “no worries, god and the devil surely doesn't want you and send you back to torture us further.”

You waited for the upcoming reprimand, but the only sound that your boss made was that he was surprisingly laughing. 

The rest of the drive was silent as ever. Arriving at the bar you searched the whole place and yes, you found the missing navy lieutenant. He was sitting on the loo sleeping deeply and snoring soundly. 

Gibbs called you to the bathroom were he had found him and while your boss was shaking his head you had to stop yourself from laughing out loud. “Bring me a bucket” he ordered you. 

You went to the kitchen, found one and went back to the bathroom. There Gibbs filled the bucket and poured all the water over the soldier so that he woke. 

The poor man didn't know where he was at first, but Gibbs enlightened him, yelling at him at the top of his lungs. Then he dragged him to the car and drove at maximum speed to the ship. Thankfully you all survived the ride, so you could hand over the soldier to his superior. 

Back at the bullpen you both sat down to do your reports. Shortly into writing them Gibbs went out of coffee and grabbed yours. He drank from it and immediately spit it out saying annoyed “Number 103…poisoning me with that dishwater.”

“You do realize that that was MY coffee you were drinking?” you answered, looking at him murderously. 

“You're working for me, so YOUR coffee is MY coffee. And that's NO coffee, I tell you.”

Oh, that was bad. “Just because you want to have a heart attack from the more than strong coffee you drink, doesn't mean I have to drink that same bad coffee as you.”

You were both staring at each other, saying nothing. Then he turned and left. After a few minutes he came back with two cups of coffee in his hands and gave one to you. You first looked suspiciously at the mug and then at him. He just nodded, so you slowly tastet it…and were totally surprised, because that was not his kind of coffee, but exactly the kind of it which you liked the most - coffee with a lot of milk. Not really knowing what to say you just whispered “thank you” to which he only nodded again. 

After finishing your reports you headed home. The rest of the two weeks alone no other case showed up, so you did a lot of research. 

On the best Monday morning ever Kate and Tim were back and you were never so grateful in your life. Now you were a survivor and you were sooo proud of it. But working alone with Gibbs hadn't to happen again any time soon in your opinion. 

“Tim! Kate! You're back! How wonderful!!” you screamed and threw yourself into their arms. The three of you laughed and cheered with Kate praising you and smiling proudly at you “I see you have survived, I'm proud of you. As I said, you'll make it.”

“Yeah. I'm very proud of myself, too. He gave me a hard time, but I tried to give it back to him as best as possible,” you grinned. 

As a matter of fact you thought that one can learn a lot from Gibbs and when you know how you had to react to him, he could be a good and friendly human being and a good teacher - but unfortunately only then. And that was pretty hard to guess. 

Gibbs’ welcome for the both of them was not a big hug as you gave them, but “good you're back, there's work to do.”

You all only shook your head, because that was so him. 

After welcoming them back, he gave you a thick file and said “you are standing up to me and that's good, despite the fact that it annoys me sometimes. So I’m making you my new partner, here's a file you have to read. Meeting at MTAC in 30 minutes.”

Wow, that was definitely unexpected, but you were undoubtedly happy to be able to observe and learn from the best.

The End

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Here you will find the other stories I've written to date.

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Tags: @hobby27

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[animasola86]

Smutmas: Take your anger (and stick it where the sun don't shine!)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x m!reader

Genre: Angst/Smut // Words: 3.9k // [Read on AO3]

Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content! Hate sex, oral, anal, mutual masturbation, double the amount of dicks!

Synopsis: You and Sebastian are both flawed boys and there is only one way to let out that pent-up frustration.

Notes: Beware: I am entering my explicit gay porn era! But hear me out: I, as the author, identify as female (and do not possess any male genitalia), and I believe most of my audience does too, but I wanted to try something new, so here we go. Don't worry, I did my research, yet I hope it was enough to convey what is going on.

Last warning: There's gay smut below! Read at your own risk!

Take your anger (and stick it where the sun don't shine)

“You insufferable little shit!” you could hear Sebastian's voice behind you. As you turned around, you saw him stomping right at you. You recognised his angry stance immediately.

“What did I do?” you asked innocently, putting your hands on your hips as you waited for him to reach you. You wondered how you angered the Slytherin this time (until the memory came back to you), though it didn't really matter either way, because when he stopped right in front of you, he glared at you out of dark eyes, working his jaw, and then grabbed your tie and pulled you unceremoniously after him. “Hey, easy!” you tried again as you stumbled along but to no avail.

Moments later, you found yourself being pushed into an empty classroom, heard the door being closed and enchanted, so no one would disturb you. You should have been more surprised, or even alarmed, but you knew the drill. This wasn't the first time Sebastian Sallow took his anger out on you.

Frankly, you were kind of hoping he would find you after you had convinced Madam Scribner that it had been Sebastian who was responsible for a bookshelf to collapse and burst into flames in the library the other day – when it had been you all along because you were still struggling to control that blasted ancient magic coursing through your veins, and sometimes things just happened, mostly destructive things.

And because it was easier to distract yourself rather than to deal with a problem head-on, a notion you certainly shared with the brunet pinning you to the wall right now, you often found yourself in his presence when you needed to take care of the steam threatening to burst free.

“You landed me a week in detention!” he growled and stared at you.

You raised your eyebrows. “Only a week? She threatened to expel me if I didn't tell --”

“So you admit that you blamed me? For something you did, presumably? You bastard!” Sebastian grunted and grabbed your shoulder to turn you around, pressing your chest against the wall. “You could have just asked to spend time together, you know?” he added in a lower voice as his hand slipped down the front of your breeches, his fingers expertly gliding over the stiff fabric.

He was right of course. You started doing those stunts to see him, meet him in detention, meet him anywhere really, because you couldn't think of anyone else who you could share your anger and frustration with than the boy behind you. You'd been to hell and back together these last years, and somehow when things got really bad, you always found yourself next to him, very, very close to him.

If anyone had ever told you that you would feel the most relaxed with another boy's dick up your arse, then you would have laughed and felt ashamed and frankly would not have believed them. But it was true. Anger sex was your go-to method of calming down again.

So you forced yourself to play along, counter his rage, defy it as best as you could with your cock already throbbing against the tight confines of your trousers. Even though your frustration had been running high these last days, causing the outburst in the library, you felt your own anger deflating the moment you felt Sebastian's hand palming your crotch roughly. Actually you always seemed to ease up the moment you saw his warm eyes on you or heard his voice in your ear.

Yet you'd never tell him how he made you feel, you wanted him to hate you, you wanted the unbridled wrath he could unleash upon you. So you kept pranking him, teasing him, angering him in any way or form. Because deep down you knew he needed it as well. He needed someone to handle the conflicting emotions running through him, chewing on his insides, destroying him slowly from within, ever since things went downhill in your fifth year.

Sebastian had lost everything that year and had found himself in a very dark place that only you had been brave enough to enter. Mainly because you were there too, for different reasons, but you still shared the rage coursing through your veins. The grief, the anger, the disappointment, the feeling of being all alone in the world, trying to shoulder things you were too young and inexperienced to handle.

It had been the end of the year, everyone had been exhilarated to celebrate the House Cup, to leave Hogwarts for the summer holidays, but you had found yourself huddled away, still in disbelief that you had lost your mentor and that everyone else seemed to have forgotten about it rather quickly. The battle of Hogwarts was no longer on the front pages, everyone had moved on. Yet you couldn't, because you still felt the energy pulsing through you of when you had absorbed Isidora's corrupted magic.

While you had tried to figure out what to do next now that the Keepers had abandoned you for defying them, you had met another lost soul in the dimly lit hallway. Sebastian had still been dealing with the loss and abandonment of his sister, the broken friendship with Ominis and the outrage that had killed his uncle, so when you two had met each other in the shadows while everyone else celebrated the end of the year, you had quickly found yourself in a dark corner, with no word spoken between you as he had rammed his cock into your underprepared arse.

The pain had numbed your anger, and quickly you had become addicted to the sensation. And now, two years later, you had made it a habit of completely driving him insane, bring out his rage, to feel it all over again. You both knew why you'd do it also and somehow he still played along, though you knew he was secretly impressed by your creativity of finding new ways to get him to hate you.

“Where's the fun in just asking you out?” you muttered back as he proceeded to grope you through your breeches. “You know I hate being boring...”

“Oh I know you do,” he grunted into your ear as he pressed his groin against your arse. “Can't do anything the normal way...”

“What's normal anyway?” you whispered as your hand moved around to grab at his thigh. “Definitely not this...”

“No, definitely not this,” he repeated and you could feel his hot breath on your neck as he leaned in to bite at your pulse. You couldn't help but wince when his teeth nibbed at your sensitive skin and frankly you were past hiding all those little twitches he was able to coax out of you.

“It wouldn't be the same,” you started, taking another sharp breath as you felt his fingers undoing your buttons before slipping into the newly created opening to tease at your dick. “I can't even imagine doing this normally with you. What would that look like? Would you buy me flowers and treat me to a nice meal? Out on a cosy date in Hogsmeade for everyone to see? Would you --”

“For Merlin's sake, shut up already!” he grunted, pushing you against the wall as he let go of you. You couldn't help the smirk from playing around the corner of your lips. He saw it when he suddenly spun you around by the shoulders once more, glaring at you out of those dark eyes that made you weak in the knees (not that you would have ever admitted to that). “You really like to hear yourself talk, eh?”

You scoffed and merely glared back at him. Shaking his head, he then grabbed your waist and forced your breeches down, your undergarments with it, and when you stood in front of him, literally butt naked, it was his turn to smirk at you. With his hand on your shoulder, he pushed you down until you were on your knees, looking up with your smug expression unfaltering.

“Look at you,” he muttered, tilting his head. “You pathetic little worm, kneeling in front of me with your trousers down like a bloody whore. Use that damn mouth of yours for better things, why don't you!”

Your hands were at the buttons of his breeches before he even stopped talking down at you. Undoing them with nimble fingers, you quickly freed his hardening erection from its confines and grabbed it roughly, causing him to stumble slightly. He shot you an even darker glance, but didn't say anything as he watched you do what you seemed to be doing best, at least in his eyes.

Leaning in with your eyes fixed on his freckled face, you gave his shaft a long skim of your tongue, taking in every single little reaction you caused in him. One hand moved up to cup his balls and give them a tight squeeze before you grabbed his length with the other and stroked it expertly as you focused the movement of your tongue to his tip, circling and lapping at it, sucking and nibbling on his sensitive skin until you heard the first little groan escaping him.

The sound vibrated through your entire body and you leaned back and watched him curiously, licking your lips as you did so. Your hand kept moving, firmly pushing his skin up and down, until you pressed your thumb to his slit and forced the first droplets of precum out of him. A shiver rushed through him and you saw him clenching his fists at his sides.

You leaned back in and closed your lips around the agitated crown of his cock, tasting and smelling that special musk you cherished so much, that would make your own body shudder in excitement. Of course you held back for now, focusing on him while your own dick stood tall and proud, bumping against your lower stomach with every bob of your head as you pushed yourself onto him and took him into your mouth as deep as possible.

As you felt him pressing against the back of your throat, you closed your eyes and held your breath, but you fought your gag reflex for now and pushed further until your nose was buried in his curly hairs. He grunted loudly as you forced his tip into your tight throat and when you leaned back again, you spluttered slightly and wiped a strand of saliva off your lips as you looked up at him.

He watched you darkly as you continued stroking him with a firm grasp, before you dove back in and repeated the same motion over and over again, each time holding him longer and deeper in your throat until you felt your eyes watering and his body shuddering more and more.

“Fuck!” he spat and grabbed your shoulders in support, his fingers digging into your shirt as he jerked his hips against your face.

You relished in his noises and involuntarily reactions as you kept bobbing your head on him, moving with the slight bucking of his hips, feeling him hardening to the point more and more precum leaked out of his tip. You lapped at it hungrily, the wet slurping noises filling the empty classroom.

Suddenly he gripped your hair and pulled you off him, red spots dancing on his cheeks as he stared down at you. “Get up and turn around,” he told you gruffly and you got to your feet and did what he told you, your trousers still pooling around your ankles as he positioned himself behind you.

He pushed his hard erection between your cheeks and leaned around you, grabbing your previously unattended dick with a fierce grip as he started stroking you, his chin resting on your shoulder, his shallow breaths right in your ear. You couldn't help the shivers running down your spine at the sensations and the little moan escaping your slightly aching throat. Closing your eyes, you leaned into his touch, even pushed your rear against him invitingly.

Not that Sebastian Sallow needed a formal invitation to do anything, he always took what he wanted, and right now, it was to drive his cock into your arse. With one hand on your dick, giving you those needed pumps, his other hand moved around your left butt cheek, groping and kneading it until he teased his thumb against the tight ring of muscles. You inhaled sharply when he pushed past the resistance and forced his digit in deeper.

You felt your legs trembling when he poked around until he pressed firmly against your prostate, coaxing a deep grunt out of you that made you stumble against his touch. You almost came right in his hand there, but then he pulled his thumb out and even let go of your dick, before grabbing your hips and guiding you back towards his cock.

Swallowing hard, you realized you were never really prepared for his intrusion and even though he had gotten better at making it less painful over the last years, it would still always take your breath away when he would fill your arse. This time he pushed his tip firmly against your tight hole and you inhaled deeply, trying to relax, before he used a sharp snap of his hips to push his length all the way into you until you felt his balls slapping against your sensitive skin.

A groan escaped you and you had to put your hands on the wall in front of you in support as he dug his fingers into your hips and just rested there for a moment, buried deep in your bum, giving you the chance to adjust to his size. He had gotten softer for sure, you thought, the Sebastian from two years ago wouldn't have given a damn about how much pain he would inflict on you, he might even have opted to make you suffer more than was necessary.

But this version of the boy behind you seemed to listen for your noises, wait for the shudders of your body to subside, before he finally started moving. Slowly retreating, until his tip was gripped by your tight entrance, then pushing back in with a quick jerk of his hips, back and forth, over and over again until you heard yourself moaning louder.

His hands were on your waist as the slapping of skin against skin filled your ears and all you could feel was the relentless rhythm of his cock sliding in and out of your arse and his pelvis slamming against your cheeks. You were groaning and moaning in unison now, a low rumble of noises mixing with the sounds of your bodies pushing together.

You felt light-headed quickly, but even in your haze, you felt the need to lower a hand and grab onto your own dick to release a little bit of that tension. Yet at the same time he had slowed his movements and leaned around to grab it too, your hands touching involuntarily. Despite the rather rough nature of your 'love making', it still sent pleasant shivers down your spine when his fingers would brush against yours, be it in class or the library when you reached for the same book, or in the middle of having him rail you into the wall, it always felt exhilarating.

Instead of withdrawing or slapping your hand away, he slipped his fingers between yours and guided them towards your cock so you started to stroke your throbbing member together. More moans escaped your throat and you couldn't help but lean your head against his shoulder as you felt your balls tightening under the combined ministrations of your hands.

He buried himself deep in your clenching arse and started grinding his hips slowly, pushing his girth against your sensitive muscles and all the right spots. You grunted deeply, biting your lip as all the sensations at once caused your dick to twitch in your combined hold. He seemed to notice your struggle to move on your own, so he kept stroking you fiercely, his own grunts loud in your ear, and when you came with a low growl, he wrapped his arm around your stomach and held you close, keeping you steady as you felt thick ropes of cum spurting out of your tip and dripping down both of your hands.

He let you rest for a small moment, holding you tightly as you leaned against him, his breath hot on your cheek as he turned his head towards you. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, panting badly, and when your eyes met, there seemed to be another one of those unspoken agreements you both had perfected over the last years.

You saw him smirk and then he let go of you and pushed you back against the wall, his hands on your hips, before he continued to move inside you once more, slow at first, but then faster and faster, as he drove himself deeper and deeper into your tight space with reckless abandon. Your noises of quiet whimpers and deep moans mixed with his grunts and the never-ending slapping of skin against skin when he fell into a rapid rhythm of slamming his hips against your cheeks.

There was the power you had needed, the raw emotion, the unbridled rage, as he rammed his cock into you at an impressively fast and deep rhythm, his length and girth stretching and prodding your muscles with each powerful thrust. You fought against the sensation, forcing your legs to stop trembling beneath you, your entire body tense from the experience.

But this was what you had wanted, all of it, and you craved the pain that came when your muscles started contracting around him, working against you instead of with you. You could have relaxed and let him have it, it would have been so easy, but you were too stubborn and frankly quite the masochist, because you needed every aching muscle, every screaming nerve, every burning sensation.

It was the only thing that kept you from losing your mind. And so you gritted your teeth and strained your arms against the wall as he kept rocking your body back and forth, over and over again, his grunts mixing with yours, as his fingers dug painfully into your hips, his balls slapping against you as his cock moved in and out relentlessly, the delicious heat of the friction driving you almost insane with pleasure.

You felt your dick harden all over again, but you couldn't give it any attention at this moment because it was Sebastian's turn to let go. With a loud growl, he gave you one final powerful thrust that rippled through your entire body as he buried himself as deep as possible before you felt his cock throbbing and twitching as he emptied himself inside your tight arse, his hot seed filling you up completely.

He kept grunting as more and more shudders rushed through him, more and more cum spurting out of him and into you, and as you savoured the warm feeling spreading inside you, you lowered a shaking hand and gave your own dick a few much needed squeezes before you came as well again, your body spasming against his as you leaned your sweaty forehead against the wall, unable to stop your legs from shaking beneath you this time.

Inhaling deeply, you tried to catch your breath, while the boy behind you leaned his entire weight on your back, his arms snaking around your stomach as he held onto you, his cock still twitching inside you. You let him have this rather tender moment and closed your eyes, but as soon as you relaxed against him and even raised a hand to put on his arm, a gesture that was usually too intimate for your liking, he retreated again, standing up straight and slowly pulling out of your clenching hole.

You let out another moan and a surprised grunt when he suddenly slapped your butt cheek with his flat hand, the pain rippling through you deliciously. It didn't however mask the emptiness you felt with his cock no longer lodged inside your bum, and without his girth, your muscles worked hard to move back into their original form, causing his seed to pump out of you relentlessly.

You rather enjoyed the warm sensation of being so full, but gravity and whatever other forces worked ruthlessly against you, leaving you to desire this whole spectacle all over again. Sighing deeply, you eventually leaned down to grab your trousers and undergarments, ready to pull them back up, but before you could do anything, you were suddenly spun around, almost stumbling against Sebastian as he pushed your bare backside against the wall, his eyes boring into yours.

Despite the intense gaze, you couldn't help but break eye contact and look down his front. His spent cock was still out, glistening in your combined juices, yet your eyes lingered on his wand in his hand. For a moment you wondered what he wanted to do, and when he grabbed your throat with his free hand you were really concerned for a second, but he only held you in place while he moved his wand over your soiled skin and cleaned your mutual messes.

You watched him intently, despite the tight grip of his fingers this might have been the gentlest gesture you witnessed him express towards you ever. He usually left you a shuddering, defiled mess (and you were there for it), but having him wash you so thoroughly, was certainly something else. When he was done, he pocketed his wand and let go of your throat, only to bend down and grab your breeches before he pulled them back up and helped you get dressed again.

You were more than confused, yet somehow oddly intrigued by this turn of events. As he grabbed your dick and shoved it back behind the confines of your trousers, you raised your hands and did the same to him. He seemed equally surprised and your eyes met for a long, heated moment. Despite sharing the most intimate desires of both of your bodies, you had never indulged in the more romantic kinds of affection, like kissing or hand holding or even hugging, in that order.

Both of you had resorted to the most extreme type of being together and never looked back, but standing before Sebastian now, staring into his dark eyes, you felt the need to take several steps back and redefine your relationship. Might also be the post-nut clarity, you weren't sure. Whatever it was, the moment quickly faded when he took a literal step back from you and tilted his head, looking you over grimly.

“Next time you need to do this, just send me an owl or something,” he told you gruffly and moved a hand through his messy hair. “I really can't have you ruin my reputation any further.”

“What reputation?” you replied with a low chuckle and a smirk. “I'm only adding to the already existing one... You did that to yourself.”

He groaned and gave you a glare, before he turned around and headed to the door. “I mean it...” he called back over his shoulder.

“I know,” you said and watched him leave. “Expect my owl then.”

Sooner than later, you wanted to add, but you didn't want to come across as too desperate. Though he probably already knew that and frankly you couldn't care less. You needed him as much as he needed you. Not just his cock up your bum, the entire package. And perhaps there was even one of those chaste kisses for you in the future, who knew.

End notes: I've always been a yaoi lover and it still took me more than seven months of being in this fandom to actually write something like this, oh well.

I was certainly channeling the snarky boy that is the male mc when writing this, I can just hear his voice taunting Seb.

Again I took inspiration from this Smutmas prompts list, so here we have Day 4: Anal and Hate Sex. As you can see I'm not doing those in order or even consistently, I just write them as they come (out of my brain).

Thank you for reading!

By the way, I have three other oneshots that are not exclusively female oriented, but gender neutral:

The Ghost under the Table (a bj in the library)

Just Breathe (an angsty love confession)

Just another adventure, right? (angsty first kiss)

MASTERLIST - KINKTOBER - AO3

[howlingday]

jaune is spiderman au) in which jaune is everyone's favorite webslinger, going by the name Huntsman (after the huntsman spider) downside he lacks the tech other spidermen have, upside he's already got tons of superstength and durability before he unlocks his aura! however his story is a little different than most spidermen, since everyone around him is a bad ass his grandpa (who's this story's uncle ben) doesn't die. instead when a white fang operative tries to rob him grandpa arc draws a revolver shoots his enemy dead and holsters without breaking stride. people at the scene describe him saying to himself "it's a hell of a thing killing a man" while walking away. take us through the life of a spiderman that the universe doesn't hate

A universe that DOESN'T hate Spider-Man? Oof... Tall order there, friend. But, sure, I'll see what I can do. Before we begin, might I regale you with my research? If not, skip to the read more. When I was playing Shattered Dimension for the PlayStation, there was a bumper in the loading screen explaining that there was a Parker of York Spider-Man who was a knight cursed with the blessings of a spider. I thought to look into this for inspiration, but I came up with bupkis on that. Instead, I found three different inspirations that used the name of Spider Knight. The first is Spyder-Knight from Disney's Ultimate Spider-Man. Not really anything too interesting. Just a knight in Spider-Man armor. Then there's the Prince of Arachne, who was a Peter Parker who worked for the noble Osborn family. He left after Princess Gwendolyn died in his place when Norman Osborn tried to kill him with a chandelier. Peter became knight and served as the Prince of the kingdom, sadly leaving a heartbroken Mary Jane to weep for his return. Then there's the SpiderKnight, who is a fusion of Spider-Man and Moon Knight, which is Peter Parker with D.I.D., including him, the witty voice of The Spider, the serious voice of The Knight, the confident voice of The CEO, and the techy voice of The Science. And then there's SpideyMoon, which... is a thing, apparently? A CANON THING, TOO! Like, apparently, they dated, but it's never brought up again after one mention in one panel? Actually, now that I think about it, I think that was just a joke Spider-Man made. But, yeah, that's what I found. Anyway, here's your Huntsman Spider AU~!

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Chapter 1 - Somethin' Sensational~!

There is an old saying, often told to those who begin questioning their lot in life...

"There are those who are born great. There are those who achieve greatness. And there are those who have greatness thrust upon them."

For one such young man, named Jaune Arc, he wasn't quite sure where he fit into these categories. One could argue he was born great as his ancestors were all heroes and imbued upon him the genetics of a great warrior. However, it could also be argued that greatness was thrust upon him when he awoke one morning with unusual abilities that allowed him to sense danger and climb up walls.

The third category, however, Jaune was certain he wouldn't fit into. His chances of "achieving greatness" were slim to none. Even if he'd somehow managed to stumble his way into Beacon Academy, a school for Huntsmen and Huntresses from all over Remnant, he still a poor fit as both a leader and a hero.

That said, he still did what he could to help out anyone he could. Like his grandfather taught him. "If you can do it, then just do it." His work schedule as a midnight superhero was a bit of a mess, but it's not like he could just stand by and do nothing. Especially not when his world was tearing itself apart.

"I'm screwed..." Jaune groaned into his textbook.

"Is that so?" Ren, his roommate, asked as he read from his own book.

"Doctor Oobleck is going to eat me alive tomorrow. I've been so busy dealing with the Torchwick gang that I wasn't paying attention to anything he's said this past week."

"You could always ask for a remedial class." Ren turned the page.

"And when would I have time for that? When you've already graduated while I'm still trying to figure out what color underwear Gura Belladonna wore when the White Fang disbanded?"

"Ghira Belladonna." Ren corrected. "And you don't have to worry about the underwear color. Just the cloak color. Which was..."

"Red?"

"No."

"White?"

"No."

"Green?"

"No."

"I'm screwed, aren't I?"

"Yes."

As Jaune slammed his face into his book again, he scroll suddenly buzzed. It was an emergency alert from the school...

"All students are required to remain away from Vale downtown due to a robbery in progress."

"Ren?" Jaune shut his textbook and ran to the closet. He snagged his backpack, complete with his superhero suit, and ran for the window.

"I'll tell any girls asking about you that you just missed them." Not looking up from his own studying. Jaune's leaving had become something of a routine at this point.

"Yeah, right." Jaune opened the window. "Like any girl would ever ask about me." Leaping out, he ran up the wall to the roof. Easier to change from there.

"3... 2..." A knock came from the door. Ren stood and opened it, finding his best friend and her roommate standing with their own textbooks. "Hello, girls."

"Hi, Ren~!" Nora cheerfully greeted.

"Hello, Ren," Pyrrha also greeted, albeit more demurely, "is Jaune here?"

"You just missed him." Ren said with a smirk.

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"There's trouble downtown."

"Mhm."

"Do you think it's the White Fang?"

"Could be."

"This used to be such a nice city."

"Mhm."

"If only the police would do their jobs."

"..."

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Jaune made his way from the school to downtown as fast as his legs could carry him. It was times like these, which happened every time there was a crime to be stopped, that he wished he'd brought his bike with him to Beacon. At the time, he didn't think he'd leave the academy very often, and even now he argued that it would only make it more obvious who this masked vigilante stepping in to stop crimes that huntsmen were either too busy, or too corrupt, to stop was.

Thankfully, he'd developed a routine by now and figured out the fastest way to downtown was by train. He didn't have a ticket, so he'd have to hitch a ride. Last time he tried to jump on it while the train was still in the station, the conductor's refused to move until he jumped off. For some reason, people didn't trust masked vigilantes when they said, "I'm trying to stop a crime from happening!"

Jaune was now downtown-bound with his eyes on The Gilded Crown, the biggest bank in Vale. Keeping low to the roof he quietly prayed that whoever was tough enough to make such an attempt was also nice enough to give up without a fight. Sadly, they were more the former and less the latter.

The train began to slow and Jaune leapt off the train and made a running start for the building closest to the station; the Vale CCTV News station where Lisa Lavender gave her unbiased view on him. And when Jaune says unbiased, he means that he doesn't like what she says but replies, "to be fair to her", to each of her arguments. After all, The Huntsman Spider is, was, and, for the foreseeable future, will always be a vigilante, not a huntsman or a police officer who work by codes, regulations, rules, laws, and everything else that stops a person from doing the right thing.

An extensive and drawn-out hop, skip, and a jump later, Jaune was watching the scene play out. Police, huntsmen, and huntresses were engaged in a firefight with bank robbers wearing black fedoras, black suits, red ties and red glasses. The Torchwick Gang. Jaune was weighing his options when he spotted someone breaking into the side of the building, through a top floor window.

"Hm," Jaune hummed, "either this vigilante thing is catching on, or there's something else going on here." Looking down to the brave boys and girls in blue and green, he decided they had enough on their plate without him 'getting in their way', as they like to say. "Think it's time I give them a break."

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"So, Ren~?" Nora leaned in, cooing with a sweetness in her voice. "Any idea when Jaune will be back~?"

"I don't think he'll be back until late." Ren answered, not looking up from his textbook.

"Seriously?" Nora gave a long sigh and fell back onto his bed. "Isn't he failing history?"

"He's been studying. I'm sure he'll be fine on tomorrow's exam."

"Well, that may be so," Nora jumped from her back to her knees, "but there's a lot more important things to worry about than studying!" She glanced over to Pyrrha. "Like maybe getting closer to your friends~?" She waggled her brows.

"Nora..." Pyrrha gave a small pout. It was true she held an affection for Jaune, but it wasn't something she needed to focus on. She was attending Beacon to become a huntress, not to find a boyfriend. Getting a date for the weekend wasn't important right now, even if it's something she really wanted.

"Jaune and I are plenty close, Nora." Ren replied, not looking up from his book.

The two girls shared a look.

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

The inside of the bank was dark. Torchwick's gang must have shut off the power to make this heist a little easier for them. Jaune looked down from the rafters above as the black-cloaked goons of Vale's most dangerous criminal continued to unload bullet after bullet against the "protectors of the innocent".

Jaune understood it was a hard job to be a police officer and a huntsman. That's what his grandpa used to do, after all. However, according to the man himself, things have gotten way to lax and hard in the wrong places. When he threatened to go to the council, couple of dirty cops pinned Jaune's grandpa with a crime he didn't commit. No charges were pressed, but he was stripped of his badge and had his good name muddied.

From what Jaune had seen, this wasn't the case for all of the police, but still too many to just blindly trust all of them with everything. So he decided to let things play out down below while chasing the shadowy figure moving ahead of him. He kept his distance, following the obvious trail they left. Open doors and open windows practically screamed-

"This way!' Jaune looked down and watched as the goons started running deeper into the bank. Huntsmen and police wouldn't be too far behind. Jaune had to work fast.

Jaune's head throbbed, and his back slammed against the wall by a doorway on instinct. Bullets sprayed from the other side, meaning stealth was no longer an option. Holding up his arms, keeping his target in view, he charged forward as bullets ricocheted off his armor plating. When he got close enough, he ducked low and pushed himself forward into the figure.

That didn't work, though, and he what he jumped into fell away like solid smoke. His head throbbed and he rolled away as soon as he hit the ground, narrowly avoiding the swipe of a blade. As his rolling came to a stop, he watched the figure flee around a corner, beginning the chase again. He was about to indulge when he heard shouting from the other direction.

Following this noise, he found another large room, though this one wasn't riddled with bullets like before. Instead, there a group of hostages, all tied up and gagged, with the largest of them being yanked to his feet by Torchwick's thugs. Jaune could play cat and mouse with his lead, but not when there was somebody in trouble. Jumping down from the second floor, he landed on the balls of his feet and hopped forward. The gang members gave shouts as they aimed their weapons at him. He ran to the side, keeping clear of the hostages, and chased after the running gang members.

They dragged the large hostage down the corridor leading to the back exit. Jaune barreled through and knocked aside any criminal that got in his way. When they got up to try and chase down their assailant, they were captured by the pursuing huntsmen. Jaune made it to the back alley where the hostage was being shoved into a long car. Jaune made for a running jump and landed just as the car was peeling out.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Jaune shouted as the car swerved around, trying to shake him off. For better or worse, Jaune wasn't flying off with his hands sticking to the roof of the car. His head throbbed and he rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a blade stabbing through the roof. His head throbbed again, instigating him to roll aside once more. By the time the third stab came, he rolled himself into position over the window. Giving a little hop, he smashed through the window, and everything started to slow down around Jaune.

The guy with the blade, shocked at the sudden intrusion, fumbled with his weapon before trying to stab Jaune with it. The thrust was avoided as Jaune slid into the vehicle with both hands now removed from the roof. Curling into himself, Jaune punched one goon while grabbing hold of the blade from the not sharp side. He then kicked the blade goon as Jaune tugged on the blade. One goon pulled his gun on Jaune, but the hostage jumped into him, giving Jaune the chance to avoid being shot and knocking the goon out.

"You okay?" Jaune asked, untying the hostage. "You usually hear about these kinds of things happening on trains."

"Aside from the glass in my suit," the man grumbled, scowling at Jaune as he removed the gag from his mouth, "I'll live." He took the gun and made his way to the front, where he tapped on the glass. The window opened and he shoved the gun through. "Pull over!"

"Whoa, whoa! Careful!" Jaune shouted. "No need to get violent!"

"Really?" The man asked sarcastically. "After kicking the hell out three asses, shoving a gun into a fourth is where you draw the line?" The car slowed to a stop.

"Wouldn't you?" Jaune asked, trying to ease the tension.

Without looking at his savior, the man replied. "You sound just like him." His arm twitched. "And you. Try anything funny and you'll wish you killed me back there."

Jaune, not sensing any danger, exited the limo with the large man. The man took the lead and brought Jaune into an alley where he could escape. Before he left, Jaune and the man had a talk.

"Look, kid, I get that your heart's in the right place," the man said, "but a lot of people got hurt today. If you want to help people, be a huntsman, or a cop. Don't make things worse by putting on a mask and being a hero."

"I have to, though." Jaune said. "If something bad happens and I could have stopped it, then it's no different than if I did the bad thing." Jaune's voice was a bit shaky, since this was a much larger man he was speaking to, but it was the honest truth.

"You really are just like Ghira." The man chuckled.

"You know Ghira Bellafauna?"

"Belladonna, and yeah. I used to work for him before..." Sirens wailing in the distance started getting louder. "You better go kid."

"Sure." Jaune jumped onto the wall and was about to climb up. "Oh, uh, one more question, if you don't mind..."

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

"Well done, Mr. Arc!" Doctor Oobleck called as he handed Jaune his test. "...is what I would say if your score were just a little higher. You may have passed the exam, but I expect much better from you in the future. Keep studying and you just might get an actual 'Well done'."

"Er, thanks, Doctor Oobleck." Jaune said, sheepishly taking the exam into his hands.

"Guess you were studying without us, huh, Jaune?" Nora remarked.

"Well, something like that." Jaune chuckled. "Ren and I have been really hitting the books this past week."

"Yeah, well, some things are a lot more important than studying, you know." Nora rolled her eyes.

"Nora..." Pyrrha grumbled.

As Jaune ignored Nora, he felt like someone was staring at him. He looked around, his eyes passing over the classroom until he caught someone looking right at him a few desks away. The girl looked away, keeping her eyes glued to her exam paper. He recognized her, but more as a friend of a friend than an actual friend. Blake, wasn't it?

[void-wolfie]

Seventy-Two

summary: a little arguing and some bad memories push you into a panic attack, good thing Tara's there to help you through it.

pairing: Tara Carpenter x gn!Reader

words: 1.3k

tw: some angst, some fluff... mentions of abuse, (very brief) mentions of drugs/alcohol, descriptions of panic/anxiety attacks

a/n: apparently I'm back on my angst train lol. I'm not a professional so apologies if this isn't completely accurate. Briefly based this on my own experiences and some light research.

*if anything here may be a trigger for you, please don't read

You set your motorcycle helmet in your locker, grabbing out the few textbooks you'd need for the day and slamming the locker door shut.

"Where've you been?"

You jumped a little, not having expected the shorter girl to be on the other side of the locker door.

"Hi, Tara. Good morning to you too. Oh, I'm fine thanks for asking," You snarked, disregarding the girl and heading towards your first class.

She sighed, you two played this little game too often. Out in public, it was sideways glances and off-the-cuff remarks. She only ever got to see the real you when you were alone.

Right now, there were eyes everywhere; students and teachers alike all crowding the halls, trying to get to classes. She wouldn't get anything out of you here.

She grabbed you by the arm and yanked you into an empty classroom, making sure to shut the door behind you.

"Anyone ever tell you, you're tenacious." You smirked, looking around the empty classroom in boredom. Turning back around, you noticed the less-than-enthused look on her face.

"Anyone ever tell you, you're annoying."

"Actually you, every time we talk,"

You didn't take the jab to heart; she was just worried and stressed.

"Where've you been?" she asked again, her calm demeanor slipping away.

"Awe, do you actually care for me, princess?"

She huffed, rubbing her eyes with her fingers, something she often did when annoyed. Her patience was running thin, and classes hadn't even started yet.

"I've been trying to text you. Wes told me your dad had to bail you out for drug charges, then you go M.I.A. for two weeks and come back looking like you had the shit beat out of you."

"Yeah, well what else did Wes tell ya?"

You didn't exactly like Wes. He wasn't terrible but his nose was always stuck in someone else's business, which irritated the living hell out of you.

That, plus the fact you couldn't help but be jealous over their relationship. You know you shouldn't be, after all, they're just friends. But nothing ticked you off quite like Wes following Tara around like a lost puppy dog for everyone to see, while your relationship with the girl only existed behind closed doors.

"He told me your dad looked mad, like seriously pissed off." She took a few steps closer, getting into your personal space, not that you minded. You flinched slightly as her hands cupped your face, her thumb lightly tracing your black eye. "Did he do this to you, your dad?"

Despite the voice in your head screaming to finally admit it, to tell the whole world about the shit he puts you through, you just couldn't do it. You shook your head no, quickly wiping at the tears that threatened to fall.

You pulled yourself away from her, stepping further into the classroom to try and get some space.

"Then who did?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Have you looked in a mirror, you look like shit. Of course, it matters."

"Just leave it alone, Tara."

She wouldn't understand, you barely even did yourself. You just couldn't turn him in.

The man may be an abusive asshole and borderline alcoholic, but he's still your dad. For every terrible memory, there was a good one.

Sure, he'd beaten you to a pulp, hit you countless times before, and who even knows how much therapy you'd need one day. But he'd also bought you your first motorcycle, taught you how to do oil changes and engine repairs, he helped you prepare for softball tournaments and school projects.

It was all just so conflicting.

"y/n?"

You were so lost in your thoughts you barely noticed the tightness in your chest or the way your fingernails dug into the skin of your palms, almost drawing blood. You were lost in your memories trying to figure out where it all went wrong.

You were completely overwhelmed. Your entire world was crumbling down around you. It felt like you were drowning with no end in sight.

You yanked your backpack off, then your jacket, gripping the desk in front of you as you tried to figure out how to breathe again.

"y/n?"

She'd never seen you like this before. You were always so strong, so guarded. And yet here you were, looking the most vulnerable she'd ever seen you.

"I- I can’t-" you stumbled over your words, not sure how to form anything coherent with the dizziness in your head and tightness in your chest.

You sat down on the floor, leaning your back against the teacher’s desk as the world spun in front of you.

Tara recognized that look, she'd seen it in Sam countless times before. You were having a panic attack.

"Shit."

She dropped her bag, getting down on the ground next to you, careful not to crowd you in case it only made it worse.

"Hey, you’re good at math, right?"

You looked at her a bit puzzled but nodded nonetheless. What the fuck does math have to do with anything right now?

"Ok, what's six plus four?"

"T-Ten." You wheezed out an answer, still focusing on trying to get your breathing under control.

"Good, now what's nine times three?"

She could tell you were still overwhelmed, not really focused on her at the moment. Your eyes seemed dazed as they darted around the room.

"Hey," She grabbed your hand gently, interlacing your fingers, "focus on me, ok?"

That seemed to work, grabbing your attention, "What's nine times three?"

"...Twenty-seven,"

She was doing her best to stay calm, even if the sight of you hurting was killing her inside. But she'd done this before, she knew what she was doing... well, mostly.

The research she'd done over the years rang out in her head. Stay calm, get them to slow their breathing. Make your own breathing relaxed, keep it slow and even-paced, and theirs will follow suit... Get them to focus on something else for the time being... If things get worse, call for help...

"Good, and what about seven times eight?"

"...Fifty-six,"

"Five times eleven?"

"Fifty-five,"

Now she had your attention. You didn't notice but your breathing had started slowing down and your fists weren't clenched as tight. You were starting to relax a bit.

"Ok, what about forty-five divided by three?"

"Fifteen."

"And sixty divided by five?"

"Twelve,"

"Good," you were finally calm again, mostly anyways, "want me to keep going?"

You were exhausted, you felt a little better, not great, but better. Your head didn't feel like it was going to explode anymore, and your heart wasn't beating out of your chest.

You shook your head no, not wanting to do any more math. You patted the spot next to you, which Tara happily filled, glad to see you weren't hyperventilating anymore.

You closed your eyes and rested your head on her shoulder.

"So, am I officially smarter than a fifth grader?"

She rolled her eyes, not that you could see that, too busy cuddling into her side, "not a chance,"

"Your just jealous I'm better at my times tables than you are,"

She didn't have to look down at you to know you were smirking. But she did anyway, finding it adorable with the way your eyes were still closed and you were leaning into her.

It was almost comical, she thought, looking down at you. The big scary drug dealer with a fuck-around-and-find-out attitude and a deadly glare cuddling into the popular girl who has the personality (and height) of a teddy bear. If anyone else at school saw this, they probably would've thought they were hallucinating.

She scoffed, "that's so not true."

"What's nine times eight?"

There was a moment of silence, in which you couldn't help but smile a little brighter.

"I hate you."

"Seventy-two."

[mixelation]

reborn au: actually i have no idea why i summarized context instead of just posting it

Tori was having a problem. Several problems, actually. 

“I’m not even allowed to submit a proposal without some idiot chunin co-signing,” she complained, pacing back and forth in front of Deidara. He was seated on his bed, rubbing ointment into the pink patches of his feet and legs that his medic hadn’t quite healed all the way. 

Deidara had… set a field on fire, or something, on his mission. Whatever. Kushina-sensei had gently hinted at Tori that she should go over and make sure he didn’t need help cooking or cleaning, as while Konoha hospital could fix up most things, he’d still landed himself three weeks leave with foot injuries. 

Obviously, Deidara had yelled at her and set a clay flea off in her face for even hinting he might need help. Convincing him to let her ladle the big pot of her mediocre curry soup she’d lugged over into his own tupperware had been a whole ordeal filled with yelling and a couple minor explosions. But once she had that out of way and a bunch of tupperwares in his fridge, she was taking his presence in town as an excuse to rant about her own problems in her new lab assignment.

“My new PI wants me on dish duty,” she went on, gesturing furiously with both hands. “I know every piece of research fuinjutsu better than anyone there, and I get dish duty? I wouldn’t mind cleaning my own dishes, or if everyone was cleaning dishes, but my ideas for projects just get ignored. Who cares that I’m a genin? I have more experience than any of the chunin in that lab.”

She’d complained to higher management and attempted to get reassigned, but it seemed she was being ignored. She was afraid she’d have to go through Kushina to get facetime with the Hokage. She didn’t want to play nepotism; she wanted to earn this herself. 

Deidara looked at her like she was stupid. 

“If it’s a rank problem,” he said, “then just go get promoted to chunin, yeah.”

Tori stared back at him, flummoxed. This hadn’t occurred to her. She was quite confident she could handle any task any chunin might encounter in a lab. She was reasonably certain she could perform better than some of the jounin in a lab, even, especially if she got to head her own projects. But… chunin were meant to lead missions. They had to be able to fight things, had to know some set number of jutsu, had to have all the rules and ordinances memorized. 

“Do you think I’m qualified?” Tori wondered out loud. 

She really only had a grab bag of jutsu under her belt, the product of only bothering to learn things that interested her. Her combat skills mostly revolved around hitting things with a stick, or irreversibly destroying flesh in an extremely slipshod way. It seemed like a vast overestimation that she might be qualified for a promotion. 

Deidara managed to look even more unimpressed with her. 

“What the hell do you think chunin are?” he asked. 

“Squadron leaders?” Tori tried. 

“Not the baby ones,” Deidara told her. “Anyone with two brain cells to rub together can make chunin. The only reason you’re not already promoted is that Iwa is filled with assholes, yeah.”

This seemed… wrong, somehow. She’d mostly just gotten as far as she did in the Iwa exam by relying on others. But, maybe, she could swing an internal promotion? 

Tori went and looked up the official minimum qualifications for chunin promotion. She did qualify, it seemed. Apparently you only needed the Academy three ninjutsu to make chunin, although more were recommended. And maybe she should review all these rules and internal structures she was supposed to know… 

The minimum mission requirement was also only one C-rank, which seemed too low. It also seemed like her various higher ranking missions maybe shouldn’t count. The Iwa fiasco had mostly just been her playing side-kick, up until she basically just lied through her teeth for a very stressful few hours. The Sasori fiasco wasn’t exactly a shining moment for her either. It all really depended on her being on a team with a bunch of monsters rather than her own talents, honestly. 

Oh well. It wouldn’t hurt to try, she supposed. It wasn’t like the Hokage’s office didn’t know exactly who she was and the details of her on-paper accomplishments. 

She filled out a form for promotion-by-mission and turned it in. Two days later she was called into the Hokage’s office. Minato was literally eating a sandwich while he talked to her, apparently on his lunch break. 

“Right,” Minato said, swallowing. He picked her application off a pile of papers and slid it across his desk to her. “I’m not approving this.”

“Okay,” Tori said, having expected as much. 

“Because I want you to go to the next exam,” he continued. “It’s in Kiri.”

“Oh,” Tori replied, surprised. So she’d have to prove her qualifications? Annoying. 

“I think you should aim to win the tournament,” Minato said through another mouthful of sandwich. “Make it flashy. It’ll be a good showing for Konoha.”

“Wait—” Tori started. “I’m not—”

“I’m going to okay you to reduce lab hours if you feel like you need training,” Minato continued, unperturbed by the madness he was spitting. He passed another form across the desk for her, brushing sandwich crumbs off f it. “You have six weeks. Kushina said she’d register you. Let me know if you need anything.”

He dismissed her. Tori wandered out of his office gripping her exemption paperwork in both hands. Less lab time was the opposite of what she wanted!

Deidara laughed at her when she reported what happened. There were, she noted, empty curry-stained tupperware in his sink. 

“I can’t win the tournament,” Tori bemoaned as he snickered. She was really more of a “promoted due to clever thinking” type of kunoichi. “Make it flashy? What is he thinking?”

“Probably that most genin actually just suck, yeah,” Deidara told her. “Do you think Kushina-sensei could convince him to let me go to the tournament?”

Apparently the idea of watching her fight was deeply funny to Deidara. He talked for a very long time about wanting to see her panic and melt a small child into goo in front of all their friends and family. Tori buried her face in her hands. 

“Oh, then you’d get a pay raise,” Deidara said, eyes suddenly brightening. “We could move somewhere better, yeah.”

“Deidaraaa,” she whined. 

xXx

The lab sink was already filled with dirty test tubes in the morning. The new chunin had mislabeled several samples the day before, and now the experiment was ruined, and Tori was in charge of clean-up. Tori listened to the chunin explain this, glaring at the sink. 

“So I’ll be setting it up again while you clean,” the chunin said. 

It wasn’t that Tori thought she’d never mislabel something. It was that she had enough experience to know to double-check, and if she screwed up anyway, she’d clean up her own fuck-ups. 

Plus, everyone had ignored that she’d pointed out their control for this experiment made no sense. There was a huge risk that whatever results they got, if this chunin could get it to work at all, would be totally uninterpretable. 

“Actually, I have an exemption,” Tori told the chunin. “I just came in to say I’ll be out for a while.”

She fled the lab. Kushina’s office door was always open. 

“Oh!” Kushina said when Tori knocked. “You’re getting started on training earlier than I thought. Donut?”

She had a small box of donut holes she pushed at Tori. 

“I talked it over with Minato,” Kushina said, twirling a pen in her finger as she spoke. “Basically, we think it’d be a good PR move if you sort of showed off that Konoha is basically the best at fuuinjutsu.” 

“Okay,” Tori said. She could do that, at least… probably. 

“You weren’t really flashy with it in the Iwa tournament,” Kushina continued. “So we’ll have to come up with something. Maybe you can work on giving some speeches about how your jutsu work like some weirdos do. Oh, but don’t show off you can use nonhuman chakra; we don’t want that getting out until it has to.” Kushina frowned slightly. “And I guess you shouldn’t melt any other genin. That’d be bad for international relations.”

“Okay,” Tori repeated. That just severely limited her combat capabilities. “Um, Hokage-sama told me to… win the tournament?”

She waited for Kushina to say Minato was being ridiculous. Instead she beamed and said, “Well, of course! I want my team to be three-for-three, you know!”

Kushina then made her take the rest of the box of donuts and shooed her out of the office, with a promise they’d make a training schedule. 

“It’ll only be like twice a week,” Kushina said as Tori gathered up her bag. “Don’t want to distract you from the lab!”

“But,” Tori started. She needed… more than that, if she was even going to pass, let alone win a tournament. 

“Bye!” Kushina replied. 

Tori walked out of Hokage Tower feeling completely unsure what to do. She could go… think about combat fuuinjutsu? Except, she’d moved all her materials to her desk in R&D in a bid for separate work and personal time, and she did not want to go back there right now. 

Well, she knew Deidara was in town and not doing anything. She went and asked him if he wanted to train. 

Deidara took at her in deep distrust. “Who are you and what did you do with Tori?”

“Come on,” Tori whined. “I brought you donuts.”

Deidara was walking with a slight limp, but he did accept the rest of the donut holes and then shuffled out the door.

“We can use my grounds, yeah,” he said, still sounding suspicious that she wanted to train at all. 

Deidara had his own assigned training ground, out in a field away from anything else. It was filled with half-made sculptures covered in tarp that Tori had decorated in fuuinjutsu herself, to reduce the chance of random explosions. 

The field was also completely riddled with potholes, blown into the ground by Deidara’s various experiments. Deidara wasn’t exactly quick on his feet right now, but he did spend the rest of the morning attempting to shove Tori into various holes and then close them over her, making fun of her the entire time. 

So probably she was improving at… something. Getting out of death traps, maybe.

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buck & Eddie: Eddie was M.I.A. and Buck was too.

The video above includes the scenes from S6 where Buck and Eddie were either missing or weren't mentioned even though they should have been.

During Season 6, Eddie was M.I.A. (missing in action) from several scenes even though he should have been present and Buck was either not mentioned or he was missing too even though he should have been present.

While I was watching 6x4 when it originally aired, I noticed Buck wasn’t on a call while the rest of the team was at work and as 6A progressed, it became a pattern.  For the duration of 6A and well into 6B, Buck’s or Eddie’s absences became even more noticeable and they were so prevalent that they were JARRING AND GLARINGLY OBVIOUS.  By the end of 6A, viewers were wondering what happened.  The showrunner (KR) said in an interview that they were trying new pairings which was fine but hindsight is usually 20/20 and when I started analyzing the scenes that didn’t include one of them, it kind of seemed like she may have been telling a half truth.  I mentioned how storylines and pairings were affected in a post I did in November 2022 but now I believe their absences or the lack of mentioning the other one was INTENTIONAL.

Buck and/or Eddie not being present bothered me and I wanted to know why but I didn’t research it until recently because of the way season 6 ended.  With the way TM (the OG showrunner) has been releasing and rereleasing photos of Buddie and Bathena for the last few weeks, I believed their absences in season 6 became too glaring for me to continue ignoring them.  For Buck and Eddie to be drastically removed from each other’s lives had to be on purpose and IMO, it was done so the audience would realize how them not being with each other didn’t make sense.  Let’s be real, regardless as to whether a viewer ships Buck and Eddie as a romantic couple, their presence in each other’s lives and the Buckley-Diaz family’s dynamic has become a staple on the show and when they’re not included, people notice.  Everyone knows how close they are so for them to be separated and viewers along with journalists writing about it was perplexing to say the least.

Before I delve into this, please understand these are MY OBSERVATIONS AND INTERPRETATIONS of the things I noticed during season 6, therefore, it’s ok if someone doesn’t agree.  Everyone interprets media differently so it’s ok for two differences of an opinion to coexist without someone trying to force their thoughts onto the other person.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

I believe it all started with the scene below when Eddie asked, “Buck!  Where the hell you going?” because their absences started right after it and they continued through the early part of 6B.

In 6x4, Buck was off work while Bobby, Chimney and Eddie were all at work but there was no explanation given as to why Buck was off.  Everyone knows Buck loves being at the firehouse especially since he filed a lawsuit to get back to the team after the ladder truck explosion (whether he was right or wrong in filing the lawsuit will not be discussed here.  It happened more than four years ago and I’ve moved on from it).  He wasn’t sick so it’s not like he used a sick day but maybe he used a personal day or he used some PTO time but either way, the audience wasn’t told why he wasn’t with the 118.

He went to Hen’s house to discuss Connor's request for him to be his sperm donor but since she was on leave, no explanation was needed for why she wasn’t at work.  Reminder, Buck wasn’t on leave so he could have gone to her house to talk to her after their shift ended but he didn’t.  His absence was noticeable especially since at the beginning of the episode, he was sitting at the other end of the table alone and away from the group while Eddie, Chimney and Hen talked about Eddie disciplining Chris for skipping his science club meetings.

In 6x5, Eddie took Hoover the dog to Buck’s loft but the audience didn't see it.  It was the only handoff that wasn't shown in CANON but the question is, why?  What was the issue with the audience seeing Eddie give Buck the dog ?  The only thing that makes narrative sense is they wanted viewers to not see it so they would notice.  Interesting!

In 6x7, Eddie didn't mention Buck at all when he told Felisa about Chris being lost in the Tsunami but once again the question is why?  Everyone who watched 3x1-3x3 knows Eddie took Chris to visit "His Buck" that day and Eddie showed Hen and Chimney a selfie of Buck and Chris while they were on a call. In the photo, Buck and Chris were at breakfast earlier eating pancakes.  Also, after the first wave hit, we know Buck saved Chris and they got separated so Eddie’s scene with Felisa was another glaringly obvious one where Buck wasn’t mentioned and it had to have been done for a reason.  Reminder, Eddie told Felisa “My wife died… and six months later my son was on the pier when the Tsunami hit.”  Well, Chris wasn’t there alone so 👀.

In 6x8, Buck was missing when Eddie and Chris were getting ready for Chris' first school dance. Carla was there but it was kind of off putting and it seemed like she shouldn’t have been the one Eddie was talking to the same way she shouldn’t have been talking to him in 5x10 when he was preparing to leave the 118.  If they didn’t want Buck there, then it could have easily been a father and son moment between Eddie and Chris especially since she didn't do anything but say she thought it was Chris' first crush after they went into the kitchen.  It was only one of the two episodes she was in for the entire season, so what gives?

Later in the episode, Eddie ended up telling Buck and the 118 about it anyway and based on Buck’s reaction, it's likely Chris had already told Buck about his crush (post linked here).

In 6x10, Eddie was present and at the firehouse while Buck and Chimney cleaned the fire engine and the ladder truck.  He was on the floor throwing a baseball with Hen.

But Eddie was missing from the call when a lightning strike hit the car and the woman gave birth but reminder, the scene happened after he was AT THE FIREHOUSE with everyone else.   It's possible he could have been man behind but the point is he was missing.  Also, why was he missing?  Buck helped Bobby with the baby and Bobby had to call Hen and Chimney over for assistance which means Eddie’s help as a medic was needed for all three victims but it was kind of like the show wanted him to be absent so the viewers would notice and we did.

In 6x11, Eddie was only in Buck’s coma dream at the beginning when Daniel told him the next time he goes up a ladder, he should have someone to have his back and Buck said he did.  Other than that initial interaction, Eddie WASN'T there and his absence was glaringly obvious.

In 6x13, Eddie was M.I.A. twice. The first time was after a call that he went to with Buck and Hen.  It was the one where the couple misplaced a "toy".

Chimney wasn't on the call with them but when they were leaving work and Buck was calling all the women he slept with to see if he satisfied them (which was 🙄 I don’t even have words), Eddie wasn't there but Chimney was.  But the question once again is why? Could it be the show was making a point since Buck had just had a conversation with a victim’s husband about an article he read that stated 80% of women aren’t satisfied by their partners (related post about Buck’s woodworking skills linked here)?

In 6x13, Eddie wasn’t at the loft while Buck and Chris were baking cookies and it appears to be a call back to 5x3 when AF was caring for Chris during the blackout (related post linked here).  Reminder, AF left a mess in Eddie’s kitchen but Buck’s kitchen was clean and organized while him and Chris were baking cookies for Chris’ whole class.  They even talked about cooking the steaks Buck and Eddie won while they played poker for dinner.

What was the reason for all of this?

Initially I, like many others was pissed at the lack of Buck and Eddie, Buck, Eddie and Chris and Buckley-Diaz Family scenes in 6A.  I’m still annoyed by it but like I mentioned above, hindsight is 20/20 so it’s possible the show was trying to get the audience to realize how important they are in each other’s lives by omitting them from specific and important scenes.

Did they do a good job of illustrating it?  NO!

They could have done it differently like a lot of other things but the season ended messily and by then it was too late to change it.

The point of this post is whenever Buck and Eddie are absent, it's noticeable and it can't be denied.  KR said they were mixing up the dynamics (related post linked here) but that can't be it because in 6x9 Hen ended up talking to her best friend Chimney about the way she was feeling about Denny wanting to meet Nathaniel after Eddie and Buck dropped off their four-way call, so she wasn't telling the whole truth.

Could their absences be a coincidence? No. Why?

Because in 6x7 Athena said she didn't believe in them and in 5x17 Karen said once is a mistake, two times is a coincidence and three times is a pattern.  Well, their absences happened more than three times so Buck and Eddie missing in action from each other's lives was a pattern in season 6 and it seems to have been done on purpose.

It appears the omittances of Buck and Eddie from specific scenes in season 6 was in preparation for season 7 but the question is, will anything come of them?  Who knows except for the showrunner (TM), the writers, producers and the actors and actresses so we shall see.

[thezombieprostitute]

Dream Come True - Part 3

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

Warnings: Violence mentioned and referenced, not written. Insecure reader. Bullying with an emphasis on fat shaming. Please let me know if I miss any!

Part 2 -- Part 4

Series Masterlist

Ransom was not having a good day. Truth be told, he hadn't had a good day since Steve punched his stomach over a week ago. The writer's block had hit harder than usual. Many applicants for the Assistant position were garbage, completely upsetting his idea that you just needed to google the right answers.

He was starting to realize that Fatso, as he had taken to calling her in his head, was able to help him through his writing blocks because she had the context of the other questions, some rough draft information, and she'd include ways to use her research into the story. Maybe he just needed to actually hire someone from the "competent" file and try from there?

Problem was, time was an issue. His writer's block had kicked in hard and his publisher was getting more impatient about updates. He spent so much time just staring at his computer.

He was startled out of his contemplation by a phone call. If it was his publisher he'd just ignore it but the Caller ID showed "Steve Rogers".

Ransom answered, "Rogers! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Where the hell are you Drysdale?" Steve was quiet growling into the phone. Indicating he was around others.

"What do you mean?"

"The damned Stark party? Raising funds for Rhodes's campaign?!" Ransom could swear he heard Steve's teeth grinding. "You're supposed to be here chatting with Mrs. Devereaux. Buttering her up to at least not donate to Wilford?!"

"Shit," Ransom jumped up and ran towards his closet. "Tell her I'll be there in 20 minutes. If she needs an excuse, I was writing up a storm. I'll make it up to her by naming a character after her or something."

"Just. Get. Here." Steve hung up.

Yeah, Ransom was not having a good day.

Your life was returning to some sense of normalcy. The crutches were a pain but, thankfully, you didn't have a lot of places to go. You wanted to get back to working as quickly as you could, if only to feel like you were actually earning some of the money you'd been given.

But you'd kept your promise to be safe, and allow yourself to heal. You did your best to keep within the movement restrictions you were given. Part of you was still waiting for that hospital bill. Yes, Curtis, Dr. Beck, even Jake and Jefferson all said it was taken care of but part of you still waited for that dreaded notice of nonpayment.

Thankfully the cybercafe wasn't too far and you were able to convince the J's (as they told you to call them) that it was the perfect distance for your needed exercise and movement and you'd sit at the cafe long enough to rest for the return trip. You were happy to get back to tutoring the girls in the afternoons. Your mornings were spent applying for other jobs.

One morning your applications were interrupted by Jake.

"Hey, Y/N, this is Hal," Jake gestured to the handsome, shirt-haired man, wearing a too small shirt, next to him. "He's here to work with you towards getting his GED.”

"Oh, yes," you perk up. "Curtis mentioned another possible student." You reach out your hand and Hal, grinning even wider, shakes it.

"It's mighty kind of you to agree to this," he began. "I've been meaning to fill in that gap on my resume for some time.”

"Well I'm happy to help you with that. Please, have a seat so we can get started?”

Hal pulls out the nearest chair and turns it so that he sits on it backwards, his muscly arms resting on the back of the chair.

"So, is this a time that works for you," you ask. "I've got a pretty open schedule so your time preferences are get priority.”

"Well," he hesitates, "my schedule is pretty all-over-the-place. Is there any chance we could take it a week at a time?”

"Sure," you affirm. "As long as you give me notice so I'm not sitting here doing nothing.”

"Yes, ma'am," Hal nods. "I'm not in the habit of leaving pretty girls wanting." He gives a wink but you drop your eyes and sigh.

"Hal," you scold. "I'm going to guess you're the type to hit on anything that breathes?”

Clearly taken aback by your tone Hal straightens in his seat. "No," he denies. "Maybe. I swear I was just trying to compliment you.”

You pause your comeback and take a deep breath instead. "I suppose there is a difference," you concede. “Just please be careful with both of those around me. I am not a "pretty girl" and I do not appreciate being addressed as such.”

Hal's eyebrows furrow in confusion so you continue, "let's just keep the compliments related to our work? Please? I'd always prefer being smart or nice to being pretty." You give him a small smile and he visibly relaxes.

"Sure thing, Teach," he says. "So, where should we start?”

Curtis was cleaning up the interrogation room after Barnes and Fowler's latest “message” to Rumlow’s crew. They had already taken the body to drop it off on Rumlow's front door, Curtis would make sure all evidence was removed from the room. It was ugly work but maybe, just maybe, Rumlow would stop trying to push his drugs and thugs in their territory.

He was finishing up when he got a text from Jefferson saying Hal’s first session went well. He normally doesn't need these kinds of updates from the legitimate side of things but he found himself rather invested in your progress. You were unusual. A puzzle he wanted to figure out.

Or so he kept telling himself to explain why he was thinking about you so much. You’d shown yourself to be sweet and patient with others but he remembers the fire with which you spoke to him. He almost felt like a moth drawn to your light but he had to keep himself in check. For now it was enough to know you were doing well and helping his family.

At least until he got the follow up text from Jefferson saying, “Ran is looking for Teach. Ok to share info?”

Curtis felt his jaw tighten. The pompous ass had fired someone for taking a bullet. He didn't want him anywhere near you. He was sure you wouldn't want to see Ransom, either. Jake had told him you'd blocked your former boss’s number and his emails would go straight to spam. He texted back a simple “no.” Let the asshole suffer.

Part 2 -- Part 4

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@texmexdarling

@veltana

@winter-soldier-101

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[macsimagines]

yo its me about the camgirl thing and uh could you do it for kisaki and kazutora?

I've been busy all day and week but THIS ask has been haunting me and i'm so happy to finally write it, thanks for sending it in I might do a part two IDK

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, VOYERISM, NSFW, STALKING, MANIPULATION, DUBCON, KISAKI AND KAZUTORA ARE THEIR OWN WARNING, DADDY DOM,

Yandere! Kisaki Tetta

Met you IRL first, as an office worker doing part time. You were a very dedicated and kind person, you had that genuine charm about you that told him it wasn't just an act. You really did care.

He was confused because despite the many offers from many of the men in the office (that he owned) you never took an interest in any of them.

"I can take care of myself, I don't really need anyone to do it for me." Ya right. He payed his workers good, but not that good for a part-timer.

Then he did some research and dug up your true gig. The CAM GIRL persona you had was extremely popular, and that fact drove him INSANE.

He hated that this what you reduced yourself too. Revealing and demeaning yourself for the money... Still all the anger and shame in the world never stopped him from making his own account and dropping waaaaay too much money in your donation bin.

"Ooooo~! Another big donation from 'darkhero'! Thanks, Daddy! I'll put on a special show just for you~!"

He feels so sick and gross, but none of that stops him from pulling his cock out of his pants and moaning along with you during your show.

He buys out your private shows, buys you all the best toys and lingerie and then has you display them for him so he can makes sure his baby girl is having fun playing with all her new things.

"Da-daddy~! Its too much," you'll whimper out riding the new thrusting toy he got you, with the pretty pink plug vibrating in your ass. [You can take it, be good for daddy and keep going~] he'll type out, smirking to himself because he knows just how to break you in the best ways.

"You're honestly really good at this," you tell him one night after his private show, "I'm not just saying that. You'd make a good dom, ever think of making your own channel." and he likes hearing you be genuine with him. He knows what the truth sounds like coming from you.

[I only want to be your Daddy. No one elses, Kitten.] and he really like the way you smile at that. What he likes better is that you start to reach out to him first.

[Interested in a private show? I'll give you a discount?] Now that's too good, Kitten. He has you hooked on him just as badly as you have him hooked on you.

He indulges every time, god knows he has the capital to afford all the time you want to give and then some.

Kisaki is a possessive man though, and he can't take it anymore eventually. Sharing you with all these other unworthy and filthy people who only want your body. He knows you, the real you. No one else deserves you like he does.

Using his connections he has you account banned for something incredibly minor. But your site is completely doxxed, and soon you're running out of money.

Now you're working full time in Kisaki's main office. Where he can take care of you and keep an eye on you.

Yandere!Kazutora Hanemiya

Is completely infatuated with you. Found your camgirl page on a long lonely night. He hasn't gone on dates or even tried to pull women because he's too filled with guilt to even think about being happy with another person.

So he's just scrolling through and finds one of your videos, the stream is starting in like 5 seconds and he figures he'll just give it a shot and if he doesn't like it then he'll go to a different video, right?

Your profile picture is cute, and you're just his type. The video is a special freebie, so maybe it'll be a good one.

"Welcome home, Darling. Long day~?" you say on the other side of the screen, and Kazutora can't help but roll his eyes. It must be some type of roleplay, and he's honestly not trying to use too much of his imagination.

"The hell would you know?" he hisses ready to exit out when suddenly, "Aww don't be like that baby, I can make you feel all better," you promise almost like you could hear him. Like you were speaking directly to him... "I can make all the stress go away," you whisper trailing a finger along your exposed thigh. He really liked the nighty you had on....

Kazutora feels himself get hard a little too quick. Something about the airy way you make your promises and the just warm feeling filling his hollow chest has him so... enraptured by you.

"How's that?" he'll ask despite himself, and when you smile so sweetly at the camera (more like at the influx of donations you're receiving) he's pulling himself out of his sweats.

"Lean back, baby," you order, so gently that Kazutora actually does as you ask, feeling his tense shoulders go lax. He watches as you pull out a toy, smooth silicone that's no where near as large as him, and lick it up and down, "Does my mouth feel good, honey?"

And he almost grunts out a yes as he moves his hands up and down to simulate your own movements... It doesn't take long and he cums, but he doesn't stop. He just keeps going until the overstimulation borders on painful.

After that night he tunes in over and over and over again. Just to watch you, his darling that loves him and takes care of him. He's a huge donator on your channel, and he's always buying personal chows from you when you offer out slots.

He'd buy all the slots if it wasn't for that dumb one per person fucking rule. But he made multiple accounts, because he's your darling and you don't need to show off for others!!!

Kazu always asks for the same scenario, the house wife! You guys are already married, he's sure of it. And you're such a good wife, saying all the things he loves; "I love you so much, darling~! You make me feel soooo good," you moan out riding the dildo that he bought you. "I know you do baby," he'll whimper back, pumping his cock at the same pace your grinding on your toy, "Love you so much, sweetie. My baby, all mine."

This goes on for months. Not because he wants to only have you through the screen but because finding you took so much longer than it should've! Silly baby, used so many different security blocks that it made it hard for him to find you.

But when he did, he was so happy! He can finally take you home. Where you belong.

[maaarshieee]

i see, u needed dottore ideas so IM GONNA DROP ONE EVERY WEEK 🎉

angst to fluff dottore when he decided to lash out on y/n after accidentally ruining his papers and he told y/n to leave him alone!! y/n proceeds to ignore him for weeks and he's starting to feel guilty

or

dottore meeting y/n through another mad scientist in sumeru. the scientist experimented on y/n and dottore grew fond of y/n. something happened that almost killed y/n so he got mad AND TOOK HER AWAY! THE SCIENTIST WAS FOUND DEAD AFTER A FEW DAYS

i like angst because i like hurting myself... anw im gonna be weekly anon.... HMMM

- weekly anon

⎯⎯ ୨ 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ୧ ⎯⎯

➢ Iʟ Dᴏᴛᴛᴏʀᴇ x Gɴ!Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➢ 1.9k ᴡᴏʀᴅs ┊ Hᴜʀᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ

➢ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

a/n - welcome to my hell, weekly anon. and omg I WOULD APPRECIATE THAT FRRR YOU HAVE ALL MY LOVE /P. also i would like to add that i only do long-term relationships with dottore (since childhood or akademiya) bc i feel like it would go very yandere or toxic. i just prefer if dottore had a deeper and more meaningful relationship for a long time! i hope you don't mind anon 😭 i can do variety of readers but my fav is when the reader is also sick in the head like he is. anyways THANKS FOR THE REQUEST AGAIN!! titled, "need you", have a nice day/night!!

↬ cw: established long-term relationship with reader, mentions of experiments and torture, canon typical violence, slight obsession (dottore and reader), couple fights, reader crazy like him fr

Dottore never raises his voice at you.

Just a snark remark here and there, would scold you for your chaotic antics in his lab from time to time. But would never raise his voice at you. Well, intentionally, of course. There were times before when he'd yell at you, but they were never too serious, or loud enough to startle you.

Today was different.

He was already in a foul mood when it all happened. His experiments were giving him a headache rather than enjoyment lately, and the workers he assigned simple tasks that anyone could do in a span of a few days all failed. Things were not going as planned, even his research hit a dead end.

And what did you do to even worsen his mood?

Spilled coffee on his piles of papers. It was an accident, of course. You were tripped by a discarded pen on the floor and stumbled to his desk, hand letting go of the cup as you caught yourself before you hit the ground. He can look past your mistakes since it was you, of all people. But his day has been one of the worse ones yet and his sense of rationality was clouded by his frustrations, letting his anger burst out to you.

"Ah, shit—" You hiss at the painful burns of your hot coffee that landed on your hand but forced yourself to ignore it and instead tried to grab the ruined files, to attempt fixing, or at least dry it but before you could do so, Dottore slammed his hand on the desk.

Startled, you froze like deer a caught in headlights, eyes wide in shock. The impact was so loud in the quiet lab that it rang throughout the spacious area and all the segments present in the room had halted from whatever they were doing, all eyes on the both of them.

"You moron," He spat with venom, a scowl on his lips, and beneath his mask, you could tell he glaring at you with those ruby eyes of his. The hairs of your skin stood as your heart began to palpitate, unsure of what to do under his furious gaze. "Do you know how long it took me to finish all these?"

It was the first time in years you'd seen him so mad at you, your hand began to shake, so you folded your arms behind you, trying to mask your already obvious distress toward him. Cold sweat began to form at your neck whilst you tried to open your mouth to speak, "I- well-"

"Speak up when I'm talking to you."

Technically, your position in the Fatui is much lower than Dottore's. You were his personal assistant, the person who takes upon tasks with much more difficult since you're much more competent than most soldiers. So, it meant you were under his command. But that didn't mean he treated you like a mere soldier.

Well, at least not until now.

You went frigid at his demand, head hung low and eyes on your toes, hands clenched to fists. You tried your hardest to talk louder for him, to follow his orders, but all you could do was let out a meek; "I apologize for ruining y-your papers..."

Dottore heaved out a heavy sigh, pulling back his chair and sitting on it, arms crossed as he stared you down condescendingly. "Your apology is utterly useless." You flinched at the tone of his voice. He pushed the pile you'd ruined to the side and threw them all in a garbage bin, your bottom lip quivering as tears threatened to escape your eyes. "Leave. I don't wish to see you again."

You snapped your head up at that, stunned that he'd even say such a thing to you. "W-wait! Let me at least make new files for you-" You pleaded, taking a step forward but he clicked his tongue, annoyed, whilst he grabbed a new piece of paper and began writing. "Leave me alone. Be of use while you're at it."

Were those files that important? More than you? You swallowed down all the words at the tip of your tongue, gritting your teeth, and just nodded, bowing respectfully, as if you were just one of the Fatui's myriad of soldiers, and walked outside of the laboratory, ignoring the concerned and worried looks of his segments.

And that's how it has been for the past few days. You still fulfilled your duties when Dottore tasked you with a mission, always delivering flawless results. Neither of you mentioned what happened that day. Dottore never apologized, and you never spoke about it, opting to ignore him as much as he's ignored you.

Usually, you would've made a fuss. Nagged him to apologize to you, since he'd hurt your precious feelings and because he loved you. But you hadn't said a word to him unless it was really needed. And you've started calling him sir. It made him frown when you first did.

Now, he was aware of what he did a few hours after he realized you were nowhere to be seen in his lab. Dottore searched for you out of instinct and only stopped himself when he remembered what he had said. He called you a moron. He told you to leave, and so you did.

But would he ever apologize to you upfront? When did he ever do that? Of course not. He expected you to come around at some point, but by day 3, he had grown more and more agitated. Dottore thought that he would alright with you, but he was proven wrong. Not when his patience was beginning to thin and snapping more at others the longer this went on. Hell, torturing his lab rats didn't quell his bothered mind at all.

And you? Well, you missed everything about him. The tasks he gives you were easy enough, but you've been trying to distract yourself from them by holding yourself back. Finishing faster meant reporting to him, and gods know you were hanging on a thread of self-control to not launch yourself into his arms when you see him again.

You planned to ignore him until he'd grovel on his knees, well at least something similar to that because he'd never do such a thing, even to you (but it would be a nice sight if he ever did) but your will to continue and your spite toward him was slowly beginning to crumble.

The two of you were never meant to be separated anyways.

So when he started assigning tasks that required you to be close to him, you knew his stubbornness to not feel an ounce of longing for you was dwindling down. You swear you could feel the apology he wanted to say with his own lips by his mere presence, but he still attempted to turn a blind eye to his emotions, especially when he felt a rush of ecstasy when you moved closer to him.

"Tch, this guy..." You chuckled under your breath as your expression softened when you watched him walk away to fetch something, letting your shoulders sag, tired. "Fine fine, I'll take the lead..." As much as you prefer he would make a much more straightforward move, you'll just take what you can get. It's not like you can take much more of this anyways.

The next day, you approached his desk at your own whim, a stack of files in your arms. Dottore paused his writing, putting down his pen then gestured at the multiple folders you held, confused. "What's all this?"

"I redid the files you threw away a few weeks ago." You carefully placed them in an empty space on his desk, a small smile on your lips as you watch him purse his, taking the document on top of the stack. "I wrote them exactly how you wanted them. Margins, your handwriting, organization, paper, and stuff."

He must say, he was quite impressed with your dedication. What you said was true, you did make it just the way he liked his files. It made the corners of his lips twitch, opening his mouth and almost letting a thank you slip out, but he caught himself. "First sentence in and you've made so many grammatical errors..." You heard him mutter under his breath whilst he continued to scan through the papers.

You gave him an annoyed smile, hands behind your back as you said through gritted teeth; "Are taking them or not?" Maybe you just imagining it, but you could've sworn his shoulders shook lightly at what you said.

"I suppose this'll do." Dottore decided, putting away some of the documents inside his drawers. You proudly nodded at yourself and opened your mouth to say something else when you felt his gloved hand touch your cheek. You paused, staring at him with surprised and questioning eyes but he just caressed your skin, trailing from your cheek and down to your jawline.

"I'm sorry," He wrote.

You couldn't help the huge, triumphant smirk that graced your lips. Though, he didn't seem to mind, allowing you to slip off his glove and press your hand on top of his, leaning against his touch. "Now, what's this supposed to be?" You teased, narrowing your eyes at him humorously. Dottore scowled at your comment, but never pulled his hand away from you. "Forget it." He hissed, nails digging into your skin, but the slight pain only made you grin and cheeks flush.

Easily, you forgave him when you moved his hand toward your lips, pressing a kiss on his palm, before carefully slipping back his glove onto his hand. With another loving kiss on his knuckles, you bowed at him, but not as a soldier that work for him. No, but as you, his teasing lover who loves to rile him up.

Just as you were about to take a step back, to leave to resume your duties, Dottore grabbed your arm and pulled you behind his desk and onto his lap. Before you could raise any protests, he gently grabbed your chin between his fingers and tilted your head upwards, a little breathless at his sudden actions. "Now, where do you think you're going?"

Similar to the day he rose his voice, you felt yourself grow nervous under his stare. But compared to it, there was excitement flowing in your veins as his arm wrapped around your torso, his breath hot against your lips, mere inches away from one another.

"I have a mission in Liyue, you know?" You say shakily, pressing your body close to his and wrapping your around his neck, in contrast to your words. Dottore absolutely loved the sight of red painting your cheeks, the warmth of your body, the vulnerability you only show to him that he's so addicted to.

Undoubtedly, he missed you so much. But Dottore was never good at words when it comes to how he felt. Actions though? Occasionally subtle to the point, it gets on your nerves, but there are times when he touches you like a starved man. You're utterly obsessed with it. With him.

Clearly, you're never meant to be separated from one another.

Dottore only scoffed at your excuse and before you could say another word, your lips connected.

If you want to be tagged in future works, fill out this form to be added to my taglist! Remember that usernames are only lowercase and have no spaces!

Taglist: @anniejourn, @dilucssiliconedildo, @achlysyo, @sunoo-bby, @iyagato, @randomidk-123

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I'll appreciate it very very much! Don't repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

[gamerbearmira]

You know the cryptid au you had in the past with Dolores, Mirabel, and Antonio? How about we have a cryptid family au?

From the villager's perspective they talk normal, act normal, and look normal but up closely…something just seems OFF. When they look at you it’s like they're staring into your soul. Julieta does this the most. 

-

Let’s say cryptic people run on Alma’s side of the family, Pedro knew of course, he knew the first time he met her. He was in the woods and bumped into a tall, lanky, eerie looking woman. They had a stare down for a few seconds.

Pedro was a part of a cryptid/monster hunting/research team and he was told of weird creatures that reside in the woods. Supposedly two twin children got “taken” by one and were presumed killed when they couldn’t be found. 

In the dead of night, while looking for any mysterious creature, he bumped into Alma, which he mistook for a tree. She’s very tall, around seven feet to be precise. 

When they met their eyes, something happened. Pedro didn’t see malice, evil intent, or anything negative. He saw warmth, even with devoid eyes…he saw a person in shock, maybe even a little fear. She wasn’t attacking him, she was backing away, as if even with her tall stature, he would be able to hurt HER. But Pedro didn’t want to hurt her, in fact, he was just curious. 

But before he could say anything, she sped off QUICKLY! 

He tried finding her, night after night, day after day, in the woods. He would scream-

“I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU I JUST WANT TO TALK!”

After a week or two, he found her but not in a way he expected, she was smaller, a bit shorter than him in fact. How the hell did she get smaller?

She seemed a little more angry this time though as she stood between two trees. Mist appeared around her, the whole forest in fact.

“If you think you’re going to come here and hurt my family, you are sadly mistaken” Her voice echoed in the darkness. Her devoid eyes staring straight into his. 

Family? She had a family? Were they like her too?

It dawned on him that she had family around here that were more than likely just like her. Strange.

“I- I don’t want to hurt you-”

“YES YOU DO! DON’T TAKE ME FOR A FOOL! I know what you and your whole team is doing and I won’t stand for it. Take your crap and leave!”

By crap, she meant all the traps they had set up around the forest and weapons she would see them with in town. Guns, machetes, bear traps, bullets filled with either poison or some tranquilizing BS…all the things ANIMALS should be hunted down with. And Alma (including her family) were in fact NOT animals. 

Pedro always saw cryptids as nothing but creatures that should be hunted and killed before they hurt anyone or anyone else. But he was never a man to harm anyone who didn’t deserve it. But…where did those twins go?

This woman seemed civil enough to talk to, maybe she he could talk to her.

“L- Look…I was told two twins got lost in these woods and didn’t come back out. People suspect that they were taken by-”

“Those two children were being abused, so my family took them in. End of story” The first time Alma saw Pedro, she didn’t have a clue who he was, hence why she ran off. But now knowing he was basically out to harm her family, she wouldn’t stand by that.

Abused?...Well, come to think of it, the tears of the mother of the twins did seem a bit fake. And the father didn’t cry at all, he was supposedly “comforting her”.

“You know I can’t just believe that, right?” Pedro raised a brow

Before she could give a reply, a small voice yelled out behind her. A little girl by the sound of it.

“Alma, Alma! You can’t be out here, people are out to hunt-” 

“Elesia! I told YOU not to be out here at night” Alma turned around to stop the girl from going any further.

“Elesia?” Pedro muttered

Alma turned around to meet his eyes, “yes, she’s fine. As well as her brother, happy?!” 

Pedro didn’t know what to say, yes, he was happy the children were okay but…a monster was protecting them? No, the woman in front of him wasn’t a monster, and by the sounds of it, they weren’t either.

“Uh…si”

“Bueno, now leave and take those people with you”

-

After weeks of searching those children were never found and neither were the cryptids. The team left but a few months after that, Pedro went back to the town again…just to visit. 

Alma was so confused as to why he kept coming back for her. At first she just thought he saw her as something to observe and stare at as if she was some science experiment but I turned out to be more than that.

Pedro would visit and stay in her town for a week or two before going back to travel some more. The more they spoke the more they learned about each other.

For example, Alma carries an amulet that helps her look human. It has been in her family for generations and all family members have one. However, it’s uncomfortable because it makes the wearer feel like they're in the wrong skin.

Pedro got into cryptid hunting because when he was younger, the infamous El Hombre Caiman, almost took his mother. Thankfully his father taught him how to use guns, and he managed to shoot the creature enough to scare it off.

He knew he didn’t kill it but at least his mother was safe.

(El hombre Caiman, A legendary creature said to possess both human and alligator features, El Hombre Caiman (or “Alligator Man”) was supposedly once a fisherman who was transformed into an alligator by the spirits of the Magdalena River. He’s a sort of werewolf figure, who returns every St. Sebastian’s Day to hunt for victims. The myth is especially prevalent in the town of Plato, in Colombia’s Magdalena department.)

His friends had similar occurrences but with different monsters and such. That’s why the team exists in the first place. Once Alma learned this information she wasn’t so upset at the thought of “Cryptid hunters”. Come to think of it, that’s probably why more exist in different places.

Because most cryptids weren’t harmless. Some thrived off of harming others.

Over time they warmed up to each other, got married, and had their three beautiful babies. I think you already know what happens next. 

Encanto is a little more different in this au. Houses are a little more spread out…farther away from Casita to be more specific. Casita emits mist 24/7, in the day it’s not too much, it’s barely above two feet, but at night you can barely see anything.

This is done so the madrigal cryptids can come out in their real forms without the fear of getting caught. I’m not sure what their cryptid forms would really look like but seeing as their part human it wouldn’t be so creepy. 

This is the cryptid madrigals au

-

Another idea I had is the whole family being cryptid hunters themselves, it started with both Pedro and Alma, after Pedro’s passing she took a break for herself and her kids. But when the triplets took an interest in cryptid/monster hunting as well, she decided to open the business again.

She taught them everything there is to know about them. History, biology, weakness, strengths, the whole shabang. They still have their gifts but they aren’t used for the benefit of the town.

Bruno uses his gift to see where a cryptid might actually be or any scary/ severe outcomes so they can plan to avoid them. Julieta cooks snacks just in case they get hurt along the way. Pepa uses her lighting as a defense mechanism. Over time she learned how to aim it so it can hit the target perfectly. 

Of course, when they got married and had kids they took some years off and stayed in Encanto to raise the children. And as they did when they were younger, their children got interested in the concept and their parents told them everything they could about it.

When Mirabel didn’t get a gift it was shocking and a little upsetting, but they moved on and made sure to let her know she’s special without it. 

I’ll try to think of more, but this is all for now, feel free to share whatever ideas you have. 

I DO❗❗ that au was so silly, causing havoc for their family, we love that 💪

DO IT AGAIN BUT X4❗❗ I mean. I like both ideas, but I like the one where they're all cryptids, that is SO cool and. It gives me an excuse to draw them as crytids and you know I'm taking the chance. And I genuinely find this au really interesting 🙏

UHHH VERY NICE SNIPPET?? REAL??? Good on Alma for being suspicious of Pedro but also understanding his pov. And Pedro understanding her pov. Makes me wonder how he died. Gee 🌚

ANYWAYYYY ERMMM...I know you said you didn't know what they might look like, besides Alma, which even I couldn't pin point an exact cryptid type for her so. You know I'm just gonna work with what I've got 🙏🙏 gonna be spitting my ideas, pick and choice as you please and. Lemme know if you have more cause you onto something right here buddy 🪕🪕

I did the husband too, idk if they're human or not but. I wanted to <33 I did some research on them, tried to match them up to best of my abilities but some of them might seem random. Isabela was definitely the easiest, next to probably Pepa and Bruno. Madremonte was an obvious choice, and then since Pepa is always pinned as emotional, I think her being in a constant state of either crying or on the verge of tears is somewhat fitting. At least she can get her emotions out 😭 Bruno, I just?? Associated him with sand rather than time, and he damn sure ain't no Sandman, bro is the BOOGEYMAN and you know we love that.

I think the one who could pass for human even without the amulet or fog is Camilo. He's basically a Doppelgänger, or Uncanny Valley. Not quite human looking, but you can't pin point what he does look like. If anyone glanced at him, he'd look human. But the more they look they notice that his eyes and smile are a little too wide, he's a little too tall, and his voice changes ever so slightly each time he talks. The other MIGHT be Félix, but he might have trouble keeping his head attached. Maybe Dolores.

I think when Isabela was little (and this is if they have gifts or abilities), she had to wear boots becayse everytime she walked, especially bearfoot, plants and vegetation would grow like crazy. It wasn't until she got older that she could control is it better.

Julieta's cryptid is probably the most passive, it does heal. But Julieta herself is just off. Ironically, she keeps her eyes closed a lot, but she opens them when she's out and about, and by far she has the WORST staring problem. Like more than Camilo, but let's be real, he probably learned it from her, and she probably learned it from Alma. But Julieta somehow just has the creepiest stare. Maybe it's just cause the way her eyes look.

Speaking of eyes, I think even with the amulets, their eyes are a constant. Really dark, pretty much black, and dilated to the point where you can barely see the whites of their eyes. It might looked cute on the younger members like Antonio, but on the adults, its just unsettling.

ALSO. The fog reminds of the The Fog from DBD. In certain maps, especially the day maps, the fog doesn't affect it much, and you can use stuff to make it disperse. But on night maps its harder to see, and there's an exlcir that can make the fog thicker and make it hard to see 🤓☝

As for Casita uhhhh I got nothing. Just that maybe it's closer to the tree line. Maybe it's like that one movie monster house. Shiiii cause where's Pedro 🤨 he's trapped in the house 😛 jkjk, maybe Casita's a cryptid too. Or just anti social...to other houses 💀

[meganlpie]

Sleeping Knight...Of Hell?!

Based on this request: : Would it be possible to do a spn Cain x Winchester reader fluffy, where cain gets cursed by a witch well helping the Winchester take down a witch. Ends up getting sleeping beauty and won’t wake up in till the reader kisses him from @sirlsplayland

Here you are, lovely! I apologize for the wait! I do not own ANY SPN characters. They are the property of the creators/writers!

Warnings: Angst-ish? Sleeping Beauty AU. Fluff.

Pairings: Cain x Winchester!reader

Under normal circumstances, you and your brothers would not want to work with a demon, even Cain. No matter how kind and fair he could be. But with you currently unable to hunt and no one else available, your two brothers reached out to Cain. The demon seemed to have a soft spot for you so he agreed to help until another hunter became available.

       "You guys be careful. Call me if anything goes wrong. Broken arm or not, I will haul ass," you said as the boys and Cain prepared to leave. Dean rolled his eyes while Sam chuckled. You turned to Cain. "Same goes for you." His blue eyes didn't betray the surprise he felt at your words. He hadn't known his safety was so important to you. Cain gave a quick nod before all three headed out, leaving you alone and bored out of your mind.

       Your boredom didn't last long, however. Too soon, the boys reappeared in the bunker along with Cas and an unconscious Cain. "What happened to him?" you asked, worry creeping into your tone without your permission. "We think he was hit with a spell, but we don't know what and we can't wake him up," Sam explained. Dean nodded along with Sam. "Cas tried and we ganked the witch, but Cain's still not waking up. But he's breathing so I guess he's still alive. For now anyway."

       You helped your brothers get Cain to a bed in the infirmary before beginning the long and difficult task of research. All the while, in the back of your mind, you worried for Cain. What if he never woke up? For some reason, the very thought made your insides churn unpleasantly. You made it your sole mission to figure out a way to wake him and soon.

*time skip*

       Weeks. You lost count of how many weeks it had been since your brothers returned to the bunker with Cain. You'd tried everything you could possibly think of to wake him. You'd even called in Rowena, who offered to go through every spellbook she could to help. Mostly because she didn’t want to be on the bad side of the Knight of Hell should he wake and partly because you told her that you’d owe her. She was very much like her son in that way. And it was Rowena’s son who would crack the case wide open.

Crowley sat with you, your brothers, Cas, and Rowena as you explained to him what was happening. While Crowley didn’t care much for Cain, he did respect him. “So you’ve had no luck waking Sleeping Beauty.” Sam shook his head, but you stared at Crowley as if he’d just said the most brilliant thing of the century. 

“Rowena?” you asked after a moment, prompting the redhead to look at you. “Are there any spells that can copy fairytales? Like…a sleeping curse?” Rowena’s brows furrowed as she thought. “I suppose there might. After all, your human fairytales have a basis in fact. It’s quite possible, but if so, I’m afraid Cain is going to sleep forever, dearie. True love’s kiss doesn’t exist.” You nodded solemnly before standing and leaving the room. All you could think about was poor Cain being asleep until the end of time.

You weren’t paying attention to where you were walking and soon found yourself in the infirmary where Cain was. With a sigh, you pulled a chair up next to his cot and sat down. “I’m so sorry, Cain,” you said softly even though no one else was around, “If I hadn’t gotten hurt, you wouldn’t be in this mess. And I have no idea how to help you. Rowena thinks you’ll be stuck like this forever.” You reached over and took Cain’s hand, repeating how sorry you were. 

You remained like that until Sam appeared in the doorway to let you know they were heading out on a supply run. “Hang on, I need to come too. There are a few things I need.” Sam nodded and turned away before speaking over his shoulder, “Alright. We’ll meet you at the car.

Once Sam was gone, you glanced at Cain again. “Come back, Cain.” You stood and leaned over him. “Come back to me,” you whispered as you leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. You straightened up all the way. However, as you turned to leave, you felt something tugging on your hand. You looked down and were surprised to find Cain’s eyes open as he stared at you in amazement. “Cain,” you whispered, unable to fight back the sound of tears in your voice.

Cain slowly sat up, his blue eyes never leaving your face. “You…” he began, “You brought me back.” Your brows drew together and you started to shake your head, but Cain stopped you. “Yes you did. I heard everything. I was trapped in my own mind, unable to move or speak, but I heard it all. It was your determination, your kiss, your…love that woke me, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened. The idea you’d gotten from Crowley had been right. It was a sleeping curse. And just like the fairytales, it was true love’s kiss that broke the spell. But that meant-

“Cain? Only a kiss of true love could have worked, if my theory was right.” A brow rose on Cain’s forehead. “Yes,” he confirmed, “Ask the question that’s on the tip of your tongue, Y/N. You already know the answer. You only need to ask the right question.”

“Does this mean that you-that you love me?” A rare, soft smile made its way onto Cain’s lips. “And you love me.” You stared at him and he stared back, an amused smile still on his lips. For a while, neither of you said anything. But the silence was soon broken by Dean. “Hey, I thought you-” You looked back at Dean, whose mouth was open in surprise. “Sonovabitch,” he muttered before turning on his heel, probably on his way to tell Sam what was happening. When he was out of sight, you couldn’t help but laugh a bit. You looked back to Cain to find him still looking at you. His hand came up and rested on your cheek. “May I?” he asked, quietly. You swallowed thickly, but agreed. Cain’s lips met yours in a moment later in a soft, sweet kiss.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

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