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waynes-multiverse · 1 year ago

Note

Ok hear me out. I got this idea after the episode of Dean getting his "virginity" back and hooking up with the porn star when he's digging through her dresser and finds the DVD of her ANYWAY

Best friend Dean who's been pining after you for sooo long but doesn't want to fuck it up and lose you. You're hanging out when you ask him to go grab something from your room and he's digging through your drawers looking and accidentally comes across some lingerie and now it's days later and he's so hot and bothered cuz he can't think of anything else (the boy has a serious panty kink lets be honest) and you catch him in your room going through your drawers again and OH

A/N: As I warned y'all, this is a longer DD because, well, the prompt was long, so it's not really my fault. All that backstory took on a life of its own, but I think no one will be mad about it 😅 Again, I had tons of fun with this one! You'll see 🤣

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSWF, a ridiculous heat wave, friends to lovers (Wayne's Version), crack, a panty kink, some sneaky fluff, and some hot lovin' aka smut (oral f & face sitting)

Word Count: 4.5k (whoops)

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles

Cruel Summer

“You open the beaches on the 4th of July, it’s like ringing the dinner bell for Christ’s sake…”

As Jaws flickered across the screen in the Dean Cave, the green-eyed hunter adjusted himself in his seat. Usually, he had perfect control over himself and his feelings for you.

But on some days – like today – when you sat right next to him on the couch in nothing but a loose t-shirt and some short sweatpants, fanning yourself with an old magazine of Busty Asian Beauties as beads of salty sweat collected on your forehead and trickled down your neck, you made it hard for him.

“God, I’m so hot,” you sighed exhaustively and sunk further into the couch cushions, lifting your shirt from your sticky skin to let some cool air to your boobs as a heat wave ravaged through Kansas.

Painfully hard.

“Dean?” You pouted with your best puppy dog look at your best friend.

“Huh?” Dean was in trance, watching you more than the movie, always on the edge of getting caught one of these days.

“We’re out of Sour Patch Kids. I have more in my nightstand. Can you get them for me please?” you asked sweetly. “I don’t wanna move. I might actually die from heat exhaustion.”

Dean sighed and wordlessly rose from his seat. He knew you always kept an array of salty and sweet midnight snacks in your room in case you got hungry and didn’t want to wander into the kitchen in the middle of the night.

Moreover, he was grateful for the break. God knows he couldn’t stand to be around you any longer, or he would’ve been too tempted to rip your clothes off and really make you sweat.

I’ll show her a damn heat exhaustion, he thought with a scoff.

Hastily grabbing the desired snack, his green eyes then caught something red and lacy sticking out from the first drawer of your dresser. The hunter knew the decent and honest thing would’ve been to just keep moving and leave your godforsaken room.

Turn around, as Bonnie Tyler sang. But for some reason, his bright eyes couldn’t resist, his curiosity overtaking him.

Dean opened the drawer with the intention to push the naughty little clothing item back into its place and out of sight. Get rid of the temptation, so to speak. It sounded like the perfect loophole. He got to touch it and look at it, but for a very heroic and noble reason – not because he was a creepy perv, violating his best friend’s privacy.

On some level, Dean knew he’d never stand a chance with you. He wasn’t good enough. He had so much baggage all his suitcases wouldn’t even fit into the bunker.

A damn touch of a pair of panties you weren’t even wearing was all he would ever get from you.

But then his fingers touched the soft and see-through material, his pads tracing every delicate scarlet thread with precision and care. It was game over for him then and there, cursing himself internally for not resisting harder as his cock twitched joyfully in his jeans.

Dean had laid his eyes on you the second you strolled with swinging hips into that diner in Wichita for your very first case together, a werewolf hunt six years ago. And he had managed to get by without an incident for years since then, even when you moved into the bunker, being rather proud of that achievement. He never wanted to lose you as a friend and didn’t dare to cross a line. Ever.

Recently, though, it became more difficult to keep his distance and not let his thoughts wander. His feelings were magma that slowly had filled a volcano over the years. Each time you did something sexy or sweet or goofy or smart, another drop was added. And now, that damn fire mountain was overdue for an eruption – no thanks to that stupid heat wave.

“Thanks,” you said absentmindedly as the hunter handed you the candy but didn’t settle back down. Instead, he stood behind the sofa and leaned his hands on the backrest.

What you didn’t know, though, was that Dean was sporting quite the boner and wouldn’t dare to come into your line of view. He was surprised he could even walk up straight and not like a caveman early in the evolution.

A hunter gathering panties.

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” he told you with a somber clear of his throat. As the fan carried a breeze of your perfume to his nose, his grip tightened on the couch.

You turned in your seat and looked over your shoulder at him, raising a surprised brow. “Already? But the movie’s not over.”

“Yeah, I’m beat,” he excused and tried his best not to look strained. He forced a tight smile to his lips while his little dude celebrated Spring Break in his jeans. “‘Sides, we’ve seen Jaws like a million times now, Y/N.”

It was a cherished summer tradition between the two of you, watching it every 4th of July.

“I guess so.” You shrugged disappointedly, watching your best friend retreat to his room. Truth was, you loved spending time with Dean and held those little traditions close to your heart.

The Winchesters were your family, the only one you ever had. And while some families wore matching pajamas on Christmas morning, you watched the first two Die Hard movies. You would watch Dean’s favorite horror movies on Halloween. Sixteen Candles and High Fidelity on your birthday, Tombstone and The Great Escape on Dean’s, and some lame-ass foreign language documentaries that you both snored through on Sam’s.

Valentine’s Day was a dreaded non-holiday for all three of you, but for the past four years, someone would leave a box of chocolate in front of your door. The salted caramel ones would always be missing, and it always came with the same Forrest Gump quote:

I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is.

You knew the anonymous someone was Dean, and you knew he meant it as a joke. Still, you clung to those little traditions. They might seem silly and stupid to some, but to you, they were your lifeline in a world full of darkness.

So, you felt rather saddened Dean didn’t seem to honor them anymore. It wasn’t just Jaws, either. He’d been withdrawing from you for a while, and you didn’t understand why.

Unbeknownst to you, the green-eyed hunter had kept a lacy souvenir from your room.

Now, Dean had managed to avoid you for four days. Every night since his stealthy excursion, he would lie in his bed with your stolen panties in one hand and his throbbing length in the other, feeling goddamn pathetic for sinking so low.

It was probably so low that even his memory foam mattress would remember it.

With closed eyes, he then imagined how the perky globes of your ass would look like covered in crimson lace. How you would stretch out on his bed on all fours, with your ass high in the air and wiggling in front of him. How his fingers would push the wicked material aside to push into you, taking you deep and hard while you moaned his name.

As he ruined tissue after tissue, the guilt would wash over him as soon as he was done. Call it a post-nut epiphany.

Dean knew it was wrong to think those things. He knew he only made it harder for himself to ever look you into the eyes again. Hell, he barely could do it now, even though a part of him audaciously wondered what other treasures were hiding in that drawer of yours. And more pressingly, what ultimate wealth he would find beneath your clothes. If your lingerie was gold, he’d be a creepy-ass dragon sitting on it.

So, Dean tried to avoid you as best as possible. Mostly because, well…

“God, fuck me,” you groaned exhaustively and opened the refrigerator door, leaning against it as the refreshing cold hit you from behind. On top of that, you held a big bag of frozen peas to your sweaty chest. You already wore the bare minimum – some short denims and a white tank top, your hair up in a messy bun.

“I swear underboob sweat is the worst. Just be glad you don’t have tits,” you complained. “Guys, seriously, can we invest in an AC? This heat wave is killing me! This bunker is like one giant oven…”

You watched as Dean squirmed in his seat as he ate his cereal, looking as uncomfortable as you. Surely, the boys were suffering just as badly during those sweltering temperatures, already forgoing the usual flannels and opting for plain t-shirts instead. How they were still wearing jeans was beyond you. When you first moved in, you protested against Dean’s suggestion of Naked Tuesdays, but these days, you were actually giving it a second thought.

“Well, I’m gonna drive to Kansas City today and see if I can get us an AC. Apparently, they’re all sold out, but I figured maybe with a bit of flirting and some cleavage, I can still get us one,” you explained your plan with a bright smirk and wiggled your eyebrows. “What d’you guys think, huh?”

Dean then abruptly banged his fist on the table, spilling some milk from his bowl on the surface. “For God’s sake, Y/N!”

You frowned in confusion at his unexpected outburst. “What’s up with you? Are you having a heat stroke?”

“Flirting, really?!” the hunter barked, his brow shaped into a deeply furious v.

“What’s wrong with that? Double standard much? You do it all the time to get shit,” you countered and watched his jaw clench in anger.

“I do-... not,” he remarked snappily with a fierce finger drilling into the table, clearly lacking a good argument. Sam cleared his throat in agreement with you, but that only earned him a glare. “And Jesus fucking Christ, would it hurt you to put on some goddamn clothes? You’re not even wearing a bra!”

“Did you not hear my tits rant just now? Of course I’m not! ‘Sides, those boobs are gonna get you an AC, so be a little more grateful to them,” you retorted, annoyed with his attitude. You’d think of all the people in this world, Dean Winchester would understand. (And maybe even appreciate it.) “And how can you even tell, huh?”

“‘Cause science, Y/N! You’re literally cooling your tits! What did you think was gonna happen, huh? Nipples!” he vented outrageously. “This ain’t a strip club!”

“It’s 102 degrees, Dean!” you argued, throwing your arms up. “Look, if I could, I’d even go naked, alright? It’s fucking hot!”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Dean shook his head and stormed out of the kitchen without any further comment.

Confused, you blinked at the younger Winchester. “What’s up with him?”

But Sam only shrugged, shaking his head. “Uhm, I don’t know,” he replied, although he could take an educated guess, suspecting his brother’s feelings for you as the culprit.

“Well, alright, I’m going to Kansas City,” you decided without wasting another thought on the older Winchester’s strange behavior. “Text me if you guys need something. I can pick it up on my way home.”

Dean knew he was in deep trouble as his bow legs bolted down the bunker’s hallways. He tried so hard to keep it together, but when he saw you, half-naked and panting in front of the fridge, he quite literally lost his coolness in this goddamn heat wave.

The green-eyed hunter understood a thing or two about torture, but this was the worst of all. He’d rather have a demon repeatedly peel off his skin in hellfire than endure a day more of this fucking madness.

If the temperatures didn’t drop soon, it would be a cruel summer ahead of him.

As Dean heard the door to the garage close, he knew you’d left for your trip and exhaled a deep sigh of relief. At least he’d get a few hours of peace.

With the best intentions, he strolled to his bedroom, but as he passed your room on his way, he found the door ajar. Whatever good motives he had up until this point, went quickly out the window right then.

His hand twitched at the thought of more riches, worse than any trigger finger and competing with a California earthquake, and well, so did the dick in his jeans. It was an addiction at this point, an obsession he couldn’t resist nor get rid off. The fact that it was forbidden and wrong only made it even more appealing. The apple in the garden of Eden.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t an anonymous support group for this kind of sickness.

As unbearable shame and guilt collected in his stomach like rainwater in the gutter, his eager hands rummaged through your dresser drawer. There was purple lace and black satin, navy G-strings and white Brazilians. It was never ending, and the hunter couldn’t stop as he picked up each item and let his fantasies roam wild.

God, the things he wanted to do to you were as colorful as your rainbow full of underwear.

“Dean?!”

The green-eyed hunter froze in his place, a white lace panty still bunched up in his large palm. The hair in the back of his neck stood up in shock, a part of him refusing to turn around at the sound of your voice. He was caught red-handed, and he knew it.

“What are you doing in my room?” you prompted, suspiciously cocking an eyebrow. It looked fairly obvious what your best friend was up to, but you didn’t want to accuse him right away, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Frankly, it was quite unbelievable.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Dean replied and swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he held up his hands like a criminal during an arrest, the evidence still in his grasp.

“Well, it looks like you’re snooping through my lingerie,” you pointed out bluntly.

Dean nodded, guilt-ridden and reluctant. “I can explain.”

“Good,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m waiting…”

“Right, uhm…”

“Oh, before you scramble for an answer, you should know, though, that I’m aware a pair of red lace panties is missing, and I know the washer didn’t eat them,” you said and raised an expectant brow.

You had a feeling your pervy best friend was behind the mystery of the missing item. Now you knew for sure.

“Man, I always knew you were a kinky son of a bitch, but this is a new level, Dean,” you scolded.

Dean’s gaze dropped to the floor in shame, scratching the nape of his neck. “Look, uhm, there’s no good excuse. I know I fucked up here. I’ll sleep in a motel tonight until I find my own place. You can stay here with Sam, alright? I’ll move out and won’t bother you anymore.”

As he tried to brush past you, you blocked his exit and grabbed his arm. “So, you’re gonna leave? Just like that?”

“What other choice do I have? I don’t wanna make you more uncomfortable,” he stated without glancing at you once. He couldn’t bring himself to look into your eyes and see the disappointment and disgust there. “I know what I did was wrong.”

“Oh, so wrong,” you agreed. “I just figured you wouldn’t run away like a coward and take your punishment like a man, you know? Aren’t you at all curious what I’m wearing right now?”

That was when Dean’s juniper eyes slowly wandered to you and caught your gaze for the first time. You smirked as his breathing became heavy and his look darkened and filled with lust. It seemed like he wanted to rip your clothes off with his goddamn bare teeth like a wild animal.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or if I’m dreaming,” he admitted, his deep voice part harsh swallow and part nervous chuckle.

“Neither,” you said, biting your bottom lip.

Carefully, you leaned closer, your hands reaching up to cup his scruffy cheeks. Noses nuzzled as your lips ghosted against his with a daring grin. You wouldn’t go further; it was up to Dean to make that final decision.

And then, as no more than a mere second ticked by on the clock, the hunter crashed his lips against yours in a kiss so scorching it made the current heat wave look like an ice age. If you thought you were hot before, now it felt like you were burning in a wildfire.

Dean roughly pushed you against the door, his kiss all teeth and tongue in an uncontrollable frenzy. His dick was hard and thick, straining against his jeans and rubbing along your thigh. Pantingly, you gasped for air and grabbed his hand, guiding it down your body and into your shorts.

“Feel that?” you asked mischievously as his fingers dug through your soaked folds and collected the arousal he caused. A wanton growl left his plush lips. “All for you, baby. You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you?”

“Shit, yeah, so bad…” Dean rasped huskily against your throat as he worshipped his path down your body, forcing your shirt up till his wet tongue rolled over your pert and still cold nipple.

“Gonna make it up to me, huh? Show me how sorry you are?” you prompted, your fingers raking through his sandy blond and soft hair, eliciting a groan from him every time you tugged a little harder.

Teeth pinched your skin, tongue cherished your taste, and lips left your throat bruised. It was equal parts hot, sweaty, messy, naughty, dirty, and sticky as your bodies rutted against one another, looking for dire release.

With swollen and plumper than before lips, he came back up for air and found your eyes. He kissed you with heated passion once more as if he couldn’t resist to touch you over and over again. He had to restrain himself to be able to speak.

“So, uhm, you sure about this?” Dean asked between labored breaths with an insecure gleam in his green eyes. “‘Cause if we go further, I don’t think I can stop. And I don’t mean just this time but ever… If you want this to be a one time thing, you gotta tell me, sweetheart, so I can mentally prepare myself. I mean, I’ll take what I can get, you know? Not that I care either way… Well, that’s not true. I do care. A lot… But, you know, you’re you, and I’m me, so I’m not delusional. I know there’s no way you would–”

You interrupted his babbling with a kiss, causing the hunter to lose his words. You looked deeply into his eyes and offered him a small smile of comfort.

“Dean, listen to me, okay? ‘Cause this is very important,” you urged, your hands gripping his shirt tightly.

He nodded, gulping anxiously. “O-Okay.”

“You’re incredible,” you said and watched him inhale sharply at your words, blinking at you in disbelief. “Absolutely fucking bonkers incredible. You’re right – you’re you. And thank God you are, because you’re the best, funniest, smartest, kindest, and goddamn hottest man I’ve ever met. I’m tired of you not seeing that. As my boyfriend, I really need to you to see that, alright?”

As Dean pensively took in your words, his brow began to furrow. “Boyfriend?”

The corners of your mouth rose to a beam. “Yeah, boyfriend,” you confirmed. “That’s what you want, right? ‘Cause I’d really like that, too.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah… That’s what I want.” Dean nodded eagerly before another swallow followed. “I mean, among other things…”

You bit your lip, smirking. “What other things?”

“Well, uhm…”

Dean didn’t finish his sentence, his lips impatiently claiming yours instead. He pressed you hungrily back against the door, massive hands sliding down your sides till they hooked into the hem of your denim shorts and ripped them down to your ankles, leaving you only covered in teal lace. He growled shamelessly at the sight, his thick digits eagerly diving inside.

“Wanna be inside you,” he groaned into your ear, thumbing furiously at your clit. “Every hour of every day…”

“We can do that,” you agreed with a giggle, your arms locking around his neck, fingers carding through his hair in the back.

“Wanna feel your mouth around my–” The last word was muffled as he ravaged your neck, but you understood where he was going with this.

“You can do that,” you said with a smile.

“And fuck, I want you to ride my face,” he declared. That demand left you speechless, making even Dean stop for a minute and look at you. “Too far?”

You shook your head and smirked. “I can do that.”

Before Dean’s mind could fathom your words, you shoved him onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress. When you stood before him, slotted between his muscular legs, his gaze trailed up and down your body, memorizing every beautiful curve. As your fingers curled into the waistband of your panties, however, the hunter stopped you.

“Leave ‘em on, sweetheart. Don’t you dare take those off,” he told you, his hands rapaciously reaching out to you.

You played with the hem of your top and smirked, your tongue licking over your lips. “What about this? On or off?”

“Off,” he shot back faster than a bullet leaving a barrel.

“You first,” you demanded and grinned. “Remember, this is still your punishment.”

“God, I love getting punished,” Dean mumbled and slipped out of his shirt. He then swiftly shimmied out of his jeans, discarding each item carelessly around the room.

He then took a deep breath as he tugged the waistband of his boxers, his erection already fighting its way out. “Well, here goes nothing,” the hunter said and pulled his underwear down.

You tilted your head to see his hard cock from a better angle as it sprang against his stomach. Your lips parted in anticipation, wondering what he’d taste like on your tongue and how deep you’d be able to take him. You guessed there’d be a struggle ahead, considering how huge and wide he was.

“Oh, I would not call that monster nothing,” you commented with a scoff, your pussy throbbing with need. “Explains all that BDE.”

Dean blushed. It was cute to watch. “Thank you.”

Giggling, you removed your shirt and tossed it at his face, blinding him for a second. You used that momentum to slide onto the bed and straddle his torso. As his eyes finally found you again, he almost choked on his spit when he gazed up at your perfect tits above him. A primal grunt escaped his throat.

With a mesmerized sparkle in his eyes, his hands trailed up your body and cupped your breasts, massaging them roughly as your panties grew damper by the minute. He then pulled you down to his lips and kissed you breathless before he left them with a boyish smirk on his freckled face.

“Hop on, sweetheart.”

And as if his words hadn’t been enough motivation, his hands wandered to palm your ass and hauled you closer to his mouth. He was an impatient one – or maybe he’d waited years for this and was finally tired of it.

Your knees sunk into the mattress on either side of his stubborn head. His fingers dented your flesh as they grabbed onto your thighs. Yours held onto the headboard for support. You tried not to look down, because then you’d see his big lopsided and full of excitement grin.

The same one he had when you found a diner in Kentucky that advertised the biggest burger in America (it wasn’t). The same one he had when he thought he had run into a member of Metallica at a gas station outside of Phoenix (he didn’t). The same one he had when you and Sam gifted him his own beer brewing station for his last birthday (which tasted horrible, but neither you nor Sam had the heart to tell him).

And now, he had that same grin when he was about to be with you.

As your pussy dripped above him, Dean couldn’t hold back his lewd groans any longer. You didn’t even have to lower yourself; he just dragged you down onto his face all to eagerly. His fingers swiped your panties to the side, and before you could even adjust your grip on the bedpost, his tongue darted into your soaked channel as deeply as he could and sucked you goddamn dry.

With several whimpers, you clenched around his wet muscle. If you were water in the desert, he was parched and drinking to survive.

His nose was buried in your folds, rubbing deliciously against your clit as he lapped your pussy in a vicious attack that left you squirming and moaning to a pornographic degree above him. Because Dean was just that – pure porn.

Instinctively and irresistibly, you ground your cunt against him, the vibrations of his keen groans against your sensitive flesh rocking you to the edge of your climax. He ate you out and devoured you like that damn gigantic burger in Kentucky. And as you dared to blink down and watch him in action, he had the audacity to devilishly smirk up at you with the crinkles around his green eyes alone, gauging your every reaction to his touches as if you were a goddamn movie on a silver screen.

You trembled and quivered and screamed as your orgasm electrified every molecule in your body. You white-knuckled the wood in your grip, your body only held up by Dean’s strong arms because God knows your weak legs were useless now.

As wave after wave washed over you, Dean drank every drop of yours, his tongue never getting enough of your taste. The sounds that filled the room were carnal and obscene.

“Fuck, Dean,” you sighed blissfully and lifted off his face and captured his swollen and red lips in a grateful kiss, your palms finding purchase on his broad shoulders. Your drenched and sensitive cunt settled on his thighs as an egregiously large erection poked your belly and tempted you further.

Dean smirked up at you, all satisfied and confident with his achievement. “I think we have a slight problem, though.”

Your brow knitted, your heart tightening with anxiety. Had you been as disappointing as the burger, beer, and that fake Metallica band member?

But Dean only grinned teasingly at your confused face. “There’s no way I learned my lesson here.”

You snorted and sought out his lips, the kiss giving you a taste of yourself. “We’ll work on that. I might have to nickname you Jaws after this,” you joked.

“Can’t wait for you to explain that one to Sammy.” Dean snorted, chuckling. “Now, how about you hop on again, but this time a little further south, huh?” he proposed with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a suggestive twitch of his cock for emphasis.

You giggled with a few nods. “I can do that.”

Was it worth the words? 😝

For all you newcomers and as a general reminder, Dirty Drabbles are always open. I still have quite a few left, but you're welcome to send more in, and we'll add it to the collection at some point 😎🔥

PUT YOUR DIRTY THOUGHTS HERE

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @imsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou

#dirty drabbles #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester reader inser #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #supernatural #supernatural reader insert #jensen ackles #jensen ackles smut #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic

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actual-changeling · 1 year ago

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i think it's hard to understand the level of betrayal crowley must have felt, which leads to a lot of assumptions around him easily forgiving aziraphale or not being angry; so let's put ourselves into his position.

imagine: your partner, your best friend, the one person in the world that you love more than anyone else, asks you to change how you look, how you talk, who you are—so you can follow them back to an abusive household that threw you out and told you to never come back.

and they tell you that happy and excited and it's not even a question, it's a "by the way, we're doing that, isn't that great?"

you try to tell them no, it's not, i don't want to go back there, i like who i am now. they hurt me and scarred me for life, and they will do it again.

the person you loves, the person you thought loves you, looks at you and says "but you're bad. don't you want to be good? they can make you good."

come with me, you say. that house doesn't want us, we can have our own, we can build our own home. just the two of us, we don't need them, we're fine the way we are.

"i can change them" they say, as if you didn't try. as if you didn't try to change them first. as if that wasn't the reason they threw you to the wolves.

fuck it, you say. you confess your love anyway because they must know, right? they need to know. "don't leave me" you beg, plead, pray.

"oh," they respond, smiling. "nothing lasts forever."

you try to walk away, they stop you, they make it worse, make it clear they don't understand you like you thought. do they love you or the version of you they created in their head? you can't tell anymore.

"we could have been us," you say. we could have been happy.

you kiss them because you have to, because you will be damned twice over if you lose them without kissing them, because your patience snaps and you think you might die if you don't kiss them right now.

it doesn't change anything. "i forgive you"—for being me? for loving you? for refusing to tear myself apart? for kissing you? it's not like it matters. they're gone. you watch them leave.

would you immediately forgive them if they showed up on your doorstep? or would you be heartbroken and angry? you miss them, you still love them, but FUCK YOU. fuck you for demanding that of me. fuck you for everything you said. FUCK YOU FOR LEAVING.

six thousand years. six thousand years.

it would already be hard to forgive a person you have loved for two years or ten, and it gets worse the longer you know them. six thousand fucking years and aziraphale did that. we know why he did. we know how their story will end, but crowley doesn't.

all crowley has is aziraphale's speech and his face disappearing behind elevator doors. all crowley has is you're the bad guys and come with me and nothing lasts forever and i need you and i forgive you.

love alone does not and cannot fix that. aziraphale took six thousand years of trust and set them on fire with a smile on his face, and i understand the urge to try and find an explanation where he doesn't do that. where everything is secretly fine.

but there isn't.

aziraphale needs to rebuild that trust, he needs to earn it again. and mot importantly, he needs to understand why his words and actions broke it in the first place. but even then—even if crowley is the kindest possible version of himself and aziraphale does everything right—even then crowley would have every single right to say i don't forgive you. i love you and i understand you, we can be together, but i cannot forgive you for that and we both have to live with that now.

they will get their happy ending, i do truly believe that, but it might not be the fairy tale happily ever after you imagine and that's okay. it still counts. it's still good.

let crowley be angry and let them find their way back to each other, even if that path does not include forgiveness.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen

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sweetkpopmusings · 9 months ago

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seungmin coworker headcanons <3

a/n: and with this, i am completing the coworker!skz series !! this took way longer than i expected (like....so much longer....), but i've loved every second of it !! i hope these silly little coworker vibes bring you the comfort they have brought me :,-) pics not mine <3

content: fluff, nonidol!au | wc: 0.9k | warnings: none really! brief mentions of food/drinking | pairing: coworker!seungmin x gn!reader | requests: open

you started at the company at the same time, so you went through orientation together

by default, you were friendly with each other, since both of you were figuring out how the office worked while trying to get to know people or avoiding getting to know people

soon the default friendliness turned into a genuine workplace camaraderie because y’all’s energies matched so well

if any coworkers ask about you two being friends though, seungmin will not hesitate to say he doesn't know you LMAO

when people ask you about seungmin and you say, “oh seungmin? yeah, he’s great! one of my favorite people here!” they give you a strange look that you truly do not understand

you share this with seungmin and he laughs for like 10 minutes but refuses to explain what’s so funny 😐

months later one of your coworkers explains the situation, including the fact that there are conspiracy theories around the office about you and seungmin’s actual relationship

you do not let seungmin live that menace behavior down

buuuuut his menace behavior is part of what makes you love him so much and he knows that so you don’t hold a grudge for too long lol

one time you catch him singing in the breakroom and you can’t believe there has been an angel ???? working in YOUR office ??? this WHOLE TIME ?????

when you ask seungmin if that was him singing he says “no <3”

you tell him you heard him and he replies, “if you were there, why did you ask me if i was the one singing?”

you roll your eyes, dropping the subject because you assume he was embarrassed since you two didn’t know each other that well yet :-(

he was a little shy

then he walks right back out after he makes his coffee or grabs his snack like nothing ever happened

when you mention it, he acts like it’s no big deal, but he’s blushing because any compliment from you means the world to him :,-)

seungmin’s compliments are so……strange

he compliments you a LOT. like way more than you realize

rather than saying “that presentation was really good!” or something straightforward, seungmin opts for things like “that presentation was unlike anything i’ve ever seen before” and “sometimes you make me wonder if i’m in the right field”

after, you stare at him very confused but still thank him because you don’t know what else to say

once you’re more comfortable with him, you ask him what he means

and now seungmin’s looking at you like ???????

he says “i’m complimenting you!” and then flashes you his puppy smile

oh seungmin my sweet, strange boy <3

you’re relieved to know that your favorite coworker isn’t constantly dragging your work and you feel that you’ve unlocked a new level of friendship by decoding a part of his brain

seungmin also feels as though he’s unlocked a new level of friendship with you :,-)

one afternoon, you make him a playlist called “bad bitch vibes” because of the look he has on his face whenever he walks around the office

he scolds you for not doing your work but he plays it extra loud in his headphones the next time he walks by your desk to let you know that he appreciates it (and enjoys it…he will be throwing ass to it after-hours)

seungmin spends a long time making you a playlist :-((((( he’s so nervous to give it to you, so he won’t send it your way until every last detail is perfect

he calls it something like “time is money” or “do better” LOL

he also sends it to you with no explanation ??? he drops the link and doesn’t say anything else until a few hours later, when he asks you if you have a highlighter he can borrow

when he comes over to borrow said highlighter, seungmin glances at your computer to see if you’re listening to the playlist

after he starts to walk away, you say, “hey seungmin! i really like the playlist! thank you so much!”

he has the BIGGEST smile on his face :,,,,,,,-)

instead of saying “you’re welcome” he tells you to get back to work <3

he thoroughly enjoys your company, and any day in the office without you is a subpar day for him :-( he gets SO excited when he sees you walk back through the doors after you’ve taken time off

one day, when everything, absolutely everything, is going wrong for you, seungmin feels like he can’t get any work done until he knows you’re okay

he sends you silly messages, leaves you little treats, and even offers to help you out with some work

while you’re super appreciative of his efforts, it still doesn’t reverse the bad day :-(

in the afternoon, seungmin walks up to your desk and just stands there like 🧍

you glance up to ask him what he needs, not fully paying attention as you’re in a huge rush to finish a dozen tasks in an hour

seungmin blurts out, “i only like working here because i get to work with you.”

immediately, you look at seungmin like :-0 because ???? that’s the most genuine thing he’s ever said to you ???? where is the punchline ???

this time, there is no punchline <3

seungmin smiles sweetly and then tells you to come get him whenever you finish your work, so you two can go get dinner/a drink/anything that will make you feel better after such a stressful day

when he walks away, you realize all the stress has dissipated because you now know for certain that seungmin will always be there for you <3

seungmin is just the silliest little guy who is a massive supporter of you and everything you do because he is eternally grateful you went from being a work acquaintance to a genuine friend :,,,,-) <333333

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rock-omelette · 9 days ago

Text

BABY

Rated: T

Relationship: Dr Eggman | Dr Ivo Robotnik/Agent Stone

Add tags: Praise kink, Degradation, pre-slash, Stone has a crush on Robotnik, intentional use of feminine endearments, Movie 1 Eggman, no beta we die like Ivo, too soon?, me referring to drone badniks as the Hive, my favorite headcanon, get it bc theyre like bees

Summary: Stone had no right to be jealous

AN: This took longer than I expected, and Im not even necessarily happy with the finished result. Thats how it be sometimes.

The doctor has never made it a secret as to where his…preferences lie.

"Careful, baby,"

Machine, to be exact. More precisely, his own machines. In fact, his adoration and preferences for his machine for the sake of companionships trumps nearly anything else you could think of—in efficiency, in companionship, in sheer visual delight.

And Stone knows this. Of course he did. Everyone who's ever spent any length of time with the doctor knew, and Stone is closer than most.

"So proud of you, baby,"

It's in the way he talks about them, much less talks to them on a day-to-day basis. The doctor is almost paternal in his description of their design and capabilities. He sounds fond, affectionate and endlessly proud. This was, of course, besides mentioning how he talks to them.

You'd almost forget how each Badnik was a high risk tech-force of mass-destruction, capable of levelling acres of land or tonnes of concrete in a single easy blow individually, much less as part of the Hive they come with.

Robotnik seems to prefer referring to them with ambiguously feminine pronouns, and while—sure—he might say that he views them as nothing more beyond some functional artillery, his claims are underminded by how softly and sweetly he sounds when he talks to them.

"Oh, great job, princess." Robotnik would purr, after a successful demonstration boasting their newest upgrades to her honing and explosive laser-zoning capabilities, landing two to three agents in the infirmary for at least the next couple of days. Stone had been massively entertained the whole time, though nothing to the degree Robotnik himself had been. "What a wonderful show you gave them, yes you did, yes you beautiful lady. My little warrior princess. My bloodthirsty little queen."

And the Badniks respond back, trilling and cooing and purring with their apertures half-lidded in pleasure, brimming with pride for fulfilling their purpose. Robotnik had coded these machines with learning algorithms, to better hone prey-drives and making self-determined decisions for the better sake of fulfilling commands, protecting the hive. These machines are made with love, treated with love, they learn and return such sentiments tenfold, and seeing them interact with one another never fails to make something achy and warm bloom in Stone's sternum.

One that sits next to another, achy, slighty bitter emotion that lodges in the back of his throat—shallow, selfish and all too sappy.

Stone had no right to be jealous.

Read the rest on Ao3

#stobotnik #agent stone #ivo robotnik #choice of fic

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poorly-written-fiction · 9 months ago

Text

a little bit too much - logan howlett x fem!reader

A/N: i saw @journal3sposts post about logan with his young, tipsy, hypersexual little girlfriend who can't keep her hands to herself in the car. the post spoke to me on a very deep, emotional level. so i threw this fic together. it doesn't actually end in smut, i do have some minor discomfort writing dubious consent content, mostly because i don't want to make anyone else uncomfortable. but if this is received well and i don't get bricks theown at me i will write something properly spicy. this is also the first piece of writing i'm posting publicly in 10 years so please have some patience with me. also despite being 22 years old and being a casual alcohol drinker, i do not drink at bars, so my idea of going to bars is based solely on the experiences of others + what i've seen in movies and tv shows. apologies, i'm sorry i'm lame.

tags: not quite smut, but very suggestive (18+, MDNI), alcohol consumption (reader is 21+), age gap (legal, but let's be honest, every relationship with logan is an age gap relationship) fem!reader (no specific descriptions of appearance), reader is handsy, logan is a little more responsible, some spelling/grammar errors probably i'm too tired to check

Logan loved taking Y/N to bars. She was fun without alcohol, but after a few drinks she was truly a sight. Logan would joke that she kept him young with her shenanigans. She would drink and dance, and flirt - oh good lord, she would flirt. She would run her hands up and down his arms, run her fingers through his hair, any excuse she had to touch Logan, she'd take it. She'd take a shot, then kiss him immediately after - or kiss him right after he took a drink of his own drink. Usually it was beer, but he occasionally got whiskey when he was in the mood for it.

One particular night, Logan and Y/N were at a bar playing a game at one of the billiards tables. It wasn't a grimy place, but definitely not one of the nicest places either of them had gone to. It was comfortable enough - the music didn't play too loud and the drinks were good, and strong. Logan sipped a glass of whiskey, while Y/N tried whatever the bartender had suggested when she asked for a recommendation. That was another thing Logan liked about her, she would try almost anything at least once. After a drink of her own, a celebratory shot for winning the game, and a few sips she had snuck from Logan's glass, she was well on her way to stumbling a little more when she walked. She clung to Logan like a crutch, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close to him so she wouldn't fall or wander too far. Y/N grabbed Logan by the collar of his flannel shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. A long, hard, meaningful kiss. There was never any doubts that they loved each other, but they don't call alcohol "liquid truth" for nothing.

"We better get you home, darlin'." Logan paid the tab and scooped up Y/N, carrying her bridal style to the old truck. "Can you grab the door for me, princess?" Y/N pulled the handle, and Logan got her settled inside, pressing a kiss to her temple when he buckled her seatbelt. When he made sure she was secure, he shut the door and made his way over the driver's side. He hopped in, turned the key, and started back for home.

The ride back was comfortably quiet. Not a lot of conversation, just the sounds of the road and some generic country song played inaudibly on the radio. Logan drove with one of his hands on Y/N's thigh, occasionally rubbing it with his thumb and smiling at her. She'd smile back, her head still feeling fuzzy from the outing, but she was in good hands, and she was happy. It didn't take long before they were stopped at a red light that held for just a little bit longer than some of the others, and Y/N slid one of her hands over Logan's chest.

He smiled, shaking his head, "What are you doing there, baby?"

Y/N just smiled back, mumbling something along the lines of, "I'm just feeling you. You're so handsome."

Logan smiled before leaning over and kissed his lover, her breath still smelling faintly of alcohol. It wasn't off-putting, just a subtle reminder that she wasn't completely sober. Y/N couldn't contain herself, moaning quietly into the kiss and running her hands down to his belt, fumbling with it. Logan put one of his hands over hers, moving them away gently.

"Babygirl, we can't do that right now," Logan pressed his forehead against hers, smiling apologetically. He couldn't deny that he didn't like the contact or the way Y/N would practically throw herself at him. But, he didn't want to take advantage - or feel like he was taking advantage - especially because she was so much younger than he was. Almost everyone Logan knew was younger than him, but Y/N almost made it too obvious that there was a significant age difference between the two. He didn't mind it too much, obviously because they had been dating for a while, but his moral compass still steered him away from fucking her while she was this intoxicated.

Y/N pouted, moving her hands back up to his chest, "What about when we get home? I want you so badly, Lo..."

He kissed her forehead, and rubbed her thigh gently, not with intention of teasing her, but instead as a way to soothe her. "You're not sober enough, darlin'. It wouldn't be right. If you feel up for it in the morning, we can try again."

"But it's okay, I love you, it would be okay." Y/N's head was just spinning with the idea of Logan touching her. He shook his head, gave her soft thigh a light squeeze, and the light turned green. Logan pressed on the gas, and continued his drive home.

"If you feel up for it in the morning, I'd be more than happy to give you what you want. For tonight, we need to get you into bed, doll."

========================================

A/N: thank you for reading, if you did! suggestions, questions, comments and concerns are always appreciated okay bye!

#logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #the wolverine #x men #wolverine x men #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x reader smut #logan howlett x reader imagine

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fallenwhumpee · 1 month ago

Note

hi hi! would you mind writing a little something about Leader Whumpee working himself into the ground trying to keep his team safe? or like, the adrenaline crash post-mission after he’s fought way harder than he should have for the sake of his team?

no rush nor pressure! ♥

[🪴 anon (I don’t know if that emoji’s already taken)]

Hii! It's not taken. And oh I love this too much. Please enjoy.

Warnings: inexplicit injury.

"Roll call," Leader forced out to the earpiece. They couldn't hear anything else than their heartbeat. They had to get a hold of themselves, but their breath weren't enough, their arms shaking as they took support from the closest surface. They were drained, but at least they had managed to be the distraction, even if that wasn't the plan. Whumper had fled, but Leader had bigger concerns. Like their team. Dragging main forces didn't guarantee their team a safe spot.

"Right Hand here. Still standing."

Relief flooded onto Leader. They dropped down to the floor. Adrenaline crush, they thought bitterly. But it was worth it if they got to know the team was fine.

"Youngest here. I'm fine. Leader—?"

"Medic. No injuries."

"Tech. System's a mess, but we're operational. Others are here too. Leader, your status?"

Leader exhaled slowly, pressing to the wall as they evened their breaths.

"All good. Took a hit, but nothing major. Just need a mokent." They made sure their voice was level, steady. "You all regroup and hold position. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous in a few."

"You sure?" Right Hand again, and Leader could practically hear the try to sound measured.

"Positive," Leader lied smoothly. "Stay put. If Whumper doubles back, I need you ready."

For a moment, the silence was too long. Then, grudgingly, "Copy that."

It was a temporary victory. Leader knew Right Hand wasn’t convinced. They knew Medic would follow up. But it bought them time. Time to get their legs under them, to push forward before their body made the decision for them.

One foot forward. Then another. They could make it. Just a little further.

By the time they reached the rendezvous point, the team was already scanning the area. Leader slowed their steps and forced their posture straight despite the ache settling deep in their bones. They had to look put together. They had to make this convincing.

Right Hand was the first to spot them, eyes narrowing. "Took you long enough."

"Had to be sure I wasn’t being followed," Leader replied easily, keeping their breathing controlled. The pain on their side screamed with every step, but they ignored it. "What’s the situation?"

"Clear for now," Tech answered. "But we should move. You sure you’re good?"

Leader ignored. "Let’s go."

Medic shot them a few sidelong glances, and Youngest, frowning, stepped a little closer than usual.

"You’re walking weird," Youngest muttered. "You sure you’re—"

"Tired," Leader cut in smoothly. "Like the rest of you. Let’s just get home."

The team exchanged glances but didn’t push further. That was good. They could hold it together until they got back. They had to.

The return to base was quiet, the weight of the mission settling over them. But as they stepped into the safety of home, Leader felt their body beginning to betray them. The dull ache in their ribs had sharpened. Their breaths came just a little too short. They fought to keep their posture straight, to keep their steps steady, but every movement sent another wave of pain rolling through them.

"Leader?" Right Hand’s voice cut through the quiet. Too sharp. Too perceptive. Sometimes their willingness to attend was too much for Leader.

"What?" Leader asked anyway, keeping their voice level.

"You’re pale," Tech observed. "Like, really pale."

"We just got out of a fight," Leader deflected, rolling their shoulders as if they weren’t stiff with pain. "I'll be back in shape for the debrief in the morning."

They turned toward their quarters, already willing their body to hold out just a little longer. They could make it that far. Just a few more steps.

Then the pain flared, sudden and brutal. Their stomach twisted, their breath caught—and before they could stop themselves, they staggered.

"Leader!" Right Hand was at their side in an instant, hands hovering as if unsure whether to reach out.

"Just—" Leader swallowed against the rising nausea, forcing a weak smirk. "Guess I overdid it."

Leader didn't realise that they were being surrounded by the team. Their vision blurred again, but this time they clung to Right Hand.

"That’s not overdoing it," Medic said sharply. "That's ignoring yourself."

"I’m fine," Leader started, but their voice wavered, and their legs followed suit. The room tilted, and before they could brace themselves, Right Hand lowered them to the ground.

"You’re not fine," Right Hand said, voice tight with frustration. "Sit before you fall."

Leader wanted to argue, but the ground was already slipping away. They were guided to lay down before they could hit the floor.

"I just need—" Leader started, but Medic was already crouching beside them, pressing fingers to their wrist, checking vitals.

"You need medical attention," Medic corrected. "Your heart rate’s off. Something’s wrong. How long were you going to keep this up?"

"Enough for it to pass," Leader muttered. They tried to offer a smile, but it fell away as another wave of dizziness hit.

"Idiot," Youngest muttered, running a hand through their hair in frustration. "You could've just said something, you know."

"Where’s the fun in that?" Their body felt heavier by the second, exhaustion hitting harder than they wanted to admit.

"Yeah, hilarious," Right Hand said, voice tight. "Just keep your eyes open."

"I’m trying," Leader admitted, blinking. "No promises."

Youngest shifted closer, watching them with something too close to fear. "You scared me," they muttered. "You scared all of us."

Leader exhaled slowly, trying to ease the weight pressing against their ribs. "Didn’t mean to."

"Too late."

Right Hand adjusted their grip to keep Leader upright. "Stop pushing yourself. We’ve got you."

Leader wanted to respond, wanted to brush it off with one last joke, but the fatigue was too much. They let their eyes close, just for a moment. Their team had them.

#whump #whump writing #leader whumpee #leader whump

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charliegyrth · 2 months ago

Text

Alex Gets Soft - Part 14

Five Weeks of Changes

Read Part 13 here.

The next month took a definite turn. Because Alex’s weigh-in was such a disappointment, he pushed himself even harder at every meal. Snacks disappeared at a faster rate. His evening shakes went from three or four thermoses a night to five or six. (He ran out of those pretty quickly.)

Our weekly grocery bills were sky high. That was partly my fault. He let me do all the shopping, so I found excuses to splurge whenever I discovered a new sugary treat that I knew he’d like.

He was constantly sluggish, and because his body craved movement, he became more forceful and more frequent with my workout sessions. In a way, he was punishing me for being able to move in ways that he no longer could. This had the mirror effect of forcing him to scarf down more snacks while I exercised.

During my first heavy-duty workout, he’d struggled to feed himself that whole cheesecake. Now, it had become standard to finish two of them each time. (He also discovered that he liked to add syrup to the cheesecake, so he did. In increasingly sickening amounts. I think it was mostly to add to the messiness factor.)

I still gave him reward blow-jobs when he finished his last few shakes, but we’d started having sex more frequently, too. I always topped and (according to Alex) it was the best sex he ever had. (He said that every time, though, so I didn’t quite believe him.)

Oh, and I continued to experiment with feeding him while he slept. We quickly learned that anything sweet or sugary would wake him up right away. It had to be something else, like butter or gravy-soaked fries or boneless chicken wings. Sometimes, I could tell that he wasn’t really asleep, just faking it to get more food, but most of the time, he was.

With all the different sources of calories, his body softened a little more each day. At first, he didn’t notice. He was solely focused on the size of his gut (which was blooming). He saw how much it jutted out but remained oblivious when it started to droop at the bottom. He saw the steady thickening of his arms and legs but didn’t let himself see the way they jiggled. And because he only looked at his reflection from the front, he didn’t see his ass cheeks dimpling.

It was so strange to think that someone who spent this much time looking in the mirror would be so oblivious to how he really looked. If he spent more time moving around, he would’ve felt how much his belly wobbled.

Overall, he hadn’t gotten much bigger than his starting weight. He was thickened all over, but really not by much. The changes were less in size and a lot more in consistency, if that’s the right word. It was like he was changing on a cellular level. By about the fourth week, he looked like a guy who had never been muscular, who had nothing under his skin besides lard.

Our friends noticed, of course. Aside from weekly buffet trips, we mostly stayed at home. It was just easier for people to come visit us here. Katie came over occasionally (telling us about a new boyfriend each time). She always complimented him on his belly. Dave came over once a week (without Terry) and heaped on the praise as well. (He also brought treats.) And our next-door neighbor Gloria dropped in once, but the only thing she said about Alex was that he was “a big man now.” Alex loved the attention, knowing that his changes were noticeable without realizing that these people were responding to his softness instead of his girth.

At the five-week mark, Alex finally realized the truth. That was around the time his moobs had officially come in. Before that, they were soft but pec-shaped. His nipples were widening (and becoming more sensitive, which I definitely used to my advantage in the bedroom), but the overall shape of his chest was the same. Then overnight, it was like his pecs had decided to surrender to gravity, hanging both lower and to the sides. Worse, they’d become mismatched. His right one (probably because it was closer to his food-grabbing arm) was a bit higher than his more stretched-out left one. Seeing that was the last straw, the moment when he finally realized that his body was growing in a way that he didn’t want.

I found him standing in front of the mirror, crying as he flopped his left tit up and down.

“You okay?” I asked, even though I knew he wasn’t. This was the moment I’d been dreading.

“I’m flabby,” he said.

I tried to go back to the old standard: “A little, but look how much your belly is poking out! Look how spherical it’s gotten!”

He examined his reflection from the side, jiggling the part of his belly that folded over his waist. “It’s not! And if I keep going, it’ll just hang more. And look at this!” He grabbed onto his burgeoning love handles, another very recent development. “I didn’t want these.”

“But the guy at the beach had love handles.” Even though we’d only seen that man for a few minutes, we brought him up a lot. To Alex, that stranger wasn’t just the beginning of our weight gain journey. He was the gold standard of fat guys, a figure elevated in both our minds.

“Not really,” Alex said, a tear gliding down his cheek. “Not like this.”

And with that, the floodgates had officially opened. Alex showed me the more prominent crease across his torso, the beginnings of a hard divide between upper belly and lower belly. He shook his upper arm fat, pointing out the total lack of muscle underneath. He showed me the skin folds above his arm pits. And he ended with what he viewed as the worst development of all: his first stretchmark on the side of his gut. “The guy at the beach definitely didn’t have any stretchmarks.”

I tried to hug him, but he pushed me away.

“You knew this was happening to me, and you didn’t say anything.”

I couldn’t speak. Alex had never shouted at me like that. He’d never sounded so broken before, so accusatory. And the worst past was, he was right. I was aware of all these changes and I silently prayed that he wouldn’t notice. I guess I always knew that someday he would, but I still wasn’t prepared for this moment.

“I love every part of you,” I said feebly.

“Easy for you to say!” he shouted. “As I get flabbier, you just get hotter and hotter.”

What was he talking about?

He glared at me like I’d slapped him. “Seriously?” He grabbed my face and forced me to look at my reflection. Unlike him, I was fully clothed. For a second, I just saw myself, the same as always. But the more I looked, the more I realized that I had changed.

A lot.

My shoulders were wider, and my once-loose pajama shirt now strained against my chest. My biceps bulged out of my sleeves. Even my neck looked a bit thicker. Curious (shocked, really), I pulled off my shirt and saw a torso that I swear didn’t belong to me. Abs were forming and I’d changed from I- to V-shaped.

I wasn’t a twink anymore. I was… God, I was getting buff.

And honestly, I felt like a total idiot. I thought Alex was crazy for not realizing what he really looked like, but in my constant focus on his body, I had done the exact same thing to myself. I knew that I felt stronger, more energetic. I knew that my muscles were firming up from the workouts, but I didn’t realize that they’d grown so much.

Alex wiped his eye. “You really didn’t know?”

I shrugged.

“I thought that was what you wanted,” he said. “After how disappointed you looked when you weighed yourself, I thought…”

“I was working out for you,” I said. Never mind that my body had grown to enjoy it, that I’d started exercising without him sometimes.

He took a breath, pushing away the anger. “I think you should bring out the scale again.”

“Okay.”

I dug it out of the closet and placed it in front of us. “You first,” I said.

With a gulp, he stepped on. This time, he didn’t have me read the numbers out loud.

208.

That was it. Just 14 pounds higher than his starting weight, and yet his body told a different story. That could only mean one thing: All his muscle tissue was gone. He was officially in the overweight category, but not by much.

I was shocked. Alex was, too. I'd seen plenty of guys at that exact weight, but they didn't look like Alex.

“See?” I said. “You’re not as flabby as you thought.”

“Oh.”

When the scale dropped back down to zero, I stepped on.

143. I literally gasped. I’d gained 12 freaking pounds! Two less than Alex. How was that even possible? I know it sounds crazy, but I felt like his muscles had transferred onto me.

Alex didn’t really react to his own number, but when he saw mine, he totally flinched. “We gained the same amount?”

“No,” I told him. “And I’m still in the ‘normal’ category. It’s… not that big a deal.”

But it was. We both knew it.

Without saying anything else, Alex stormed out of the room. I followed him into the kitchen as he angrily pulled four packs of hot dogs from the fridge. He plopped his soft ass onto his chair and started shoving them into his mouth. Didn’t heat them up.

He was stress-eating.

I sat across from him. “Alex.”

“This is what you always eat, right?” he said petulantly. “These freaking things. God, they barely taste like anything.”

“What are you doing?”

“No more sweets,” he said through a mouthful. “I’m done with sugar. And I’m gonna…” (Gulp.) “I’m gonna start working out again.” (Gulp.) “You and me.”

I tried to pull the hot dogs away from him but he slapped my hand.

“I’m gonna get big the right way now.”

My heart was breaking for him, but there was nothing I could say to calm him down. All I could do was watch as he drowned his sorrows in hot dogs.

I offered to heat them up. (“No!”)

I offered to get him some mayo. (“No more mayo!”)

I told him to stop for a second so we could talk. (“Later!”)

As I sat there helplessly, he demolished all the hot dogs in front of him. He held in his burp (which was very uncharacteristic of him). “I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

“I’m sorry.”

He finally looked me in the eyes. “Babe, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself.”

“It’ll be fine. All we have to do is change up your snacks and add some workouts. That’s all.”

“And then I’ll start getting solid again.”

“Sure.”

He pushed himself to his feet. “Okay. Let’s start now.”

Read Part 15 here. You can also read all 22 parts of Alex Gets Soft in one ebook (with a bonus story). You can find all my stories here.

#gainerfiction #gainer fiction #gainerstory #gainer story #gainerstories #gainer stories #male wg #male feedism #gay gainer #weight gain story #weight gain fiction #feeder story #feeder fiction #muscle gainer

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sleepy0s · 10 months ago

Text

Such a strange man

Grian: “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy” I would. Pussy.

Grian: “I’m not gonna sink to their level” I will. Coward.

Grian: “I’m the bigger person” I’m 150cm tall give me the gun bitch.

GRAIANN

Hi guys :> Felt like being nice, have a long one! (Long for my standards lol)

1399 Words

~~~

Look, growing up on the streets does a lot to a man you know? Grian was never taught that ‘two wrongs don’t make a right’ No, no he was taught ‘You want something, take it.’. Like seriously, man has no morals. Of Course... The hermits don’t actually know much about his past- Even Pearl HIS SISTER doesn’t know more than everyone else.

Most strangers look at Grian and see a cute, small avian who wouldn’t hurt a fly when in reality he is an eldritch being who grew up in mafias and will not hesitate to pull a gun on you. (Xisuma keeps trying to take them off him but he just keeps showing up with more???) This leads to some interesting experiences. For everyone else, not Grian.

The ‘first’ one.

~~~

It took Grian some time to open up when he joined hermitcraft (Yk, he had just spent the last couple of years locked in a cage in the end dimension lol) So, for the first month or three everyone assumed he was some nice parrot hybrid who was just shy. He didn’t talk in meetings and usually, you had to find him if you wanted to hang out. Even after he had come out of his shell he was still polite and kind (He is still kind but like, more open and friendly)

Anyway, getting distracted.

~~~

Xisuma had just finished talking about the important stuff, and everyone was chatting away. The hermits would probably stay in the meeting room for a while longer- the area was comfy.

Around half an hour into the hangout someone had pulled up a video on their comm of a server being destroyed whilst a player was still inside, which had become the current topic. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy..” Tango mumbled, the blaze hybrid looked horrified with one hand covering his face as he tried to look away.

Now, Grian had been on a server whilst it was being destroyed, multiple actually in his many attempts at escaping so he was fully aware of the agony and pain someone felt when being essentially erased from existence. He also had many enemies, which he would wish this upon, but his worst enemy? Without a doubt, Sam Gladiator. The bunny hybrid that had tortured his childhood, and god he would probably laugh if he got to watch Sam go through that torture.

Unknowingly, Grian had started laughing to himself just at the thought, which meant some people were looking at him weirdly. “Grian? Why are you laughing?” Xisuma asked.

“Wha- nothing- nothing I was just imagining something.” He had stopped laughing but still had a smile on his face. “I would like- totally wish that upon my worst enemy.” He added simply, sitting up in his chair.

The trip to the main hub.

Some of the hermits had decided to go on a little trip to the main hub for shopping purposes. The small group included; Xisuma (He wasn’t letting them go off on their own.) Doc, Gem, Pearl, Scar and Grian. And it was going well. They each had budgets that they couldn’t go over and everyone had their own bags full of materials.

They had been told to meet up at the portal at 3 pm, and it was currently 2:55, and the only person not at the portal was Pearl. Oh- wait no Xisuma can see her. The Moth hybrid was rushing down the street, trying to get to them on time. “I’m not late yet- I’m not late- Ouch!” She had run head first into some older-looking man, luckily she hadn’t dropped anything.

“I'm sorry- I wasn’t looking where I was going! Are you okay?” She apologized, but when she looked up she was slightly shocked by the look on the man's face which was rage and disgust. “Ugh. Hybrids ruining everything, I'm going to be late for my meeting now because of you.” The man spat at her, before shoving her and causing her to drop everything.

Grian immediately ran over to his sister's side to help pick everything up, as with the others. “Are you just going to let him do that? Aren’t you going to do anything?” Grian asked as he handed her the stuff.

“No, I’m not going to sink to his level,” Pearl responded, but it was obvious she was upset. And look, he knew his sister could handle herself but if she was too shy to stand up for herself in public then he would do it for her. That was one thing he had learnt growing up as a hybrid, if you want to be respected then you can’t play nice. “Grian- Don’t!”

It was too late, he had stormed up to the man and was tapping him on the shoulder. “Sir? Sir. Sir!!!” He spoke, continuing to tap the man until he turned around. “What? I don’t have time for this.”

Grian didn’t look bothered by the man’s attitude, still smiling. “I would like you to apologize to my sister.”

The man laughed, “You think you can get me to apologize? No.” And Grian’s attitude switched, kicking him in the crotch and grabbing his collar, his face emotionless as he stared into his eyes. “It wasn’t a question. Now, Apologize before I pull my gun out.” He whispered into his ear, before letting go of him.

“Yep- yep understood!” He whimpered, rushing over to Pearl and continuously bowing. “I’m sorry for using such language- are you okay? Please be okay or he might kill me.”

The Intruder!

Hermitcraft is famous for being a very safe server, with some of the strongest protections. So, it’s very unlikely that someone can break in. Unlikely, but not impossible.

So, imagine everyone’s surprise when they wake up at 2 am with their comms ringing alarms that there had been a breach in security and that they all had to go to spawn. So, all 25 or so hermits had met up at spawn. Grumpy, cold and tired.

“Okay, so everyone is here yes?” Xisuma called out from the dirt pillar he had just built, “So.. uhm I’m not sure how to say this but there is an intruder on the server.” This, immediately caused an outburst among everyone, beginning to talk and whisper, despite Xisuma’s attempts to get everyone to listen

“SHUSH!” Doc screamed at the group, causing everyone to immediately go silent.

“Uh- thank you Doc.” Xisuma coughed, “So, we are all going to go into groups and find the intruder, thank you.”

The groups were decided quickly, and Xisuma ended up with Grian, Pearl, Scar and Mumbo. Everyone was on call, the comms acting as a radio. Xisuma’s group was near Grian’s base, walking through the trees behind the large rocks (Season 9) when Mumbo let out a yell. “Mumbo! What’s wrong- Oh.” Pearl ran over only to find Mumbo being held at gunpoint.

Grian, immediately reached for his own gun only to find Xisuma holding it, “Grian, be the bigger person.” Now, Xisuma was probably about to shoot himself in the face because he had never held a gun before so it would probably be safer to give Grian the gun (God thought I’d never write that) But also, Grian is a tiny guy.

“Xisuma, respectfully I am 5 foot give me the bloody gun.” He responded calmly, in a hushed voice so the intruder wouldn’t notice that they also had a weapon. “It’s him or Mumbo X, what are you gonna choose?”

“Oh god fine.” Grian really was very persuasive. The second the gun was back in his hands Grian was gone, completely disappeared into the trees.

“HAH! What are you gonna do? You call for help and I’ll shoot this... Strangely tall man.” The intruder threatened, seeming much too proud. “Now- I, Oh what do I want? I didn’t think I’d get this far..” Scar and Pearl had attempted to negotiate with the man.

“OH! I know- HEY!?” He didn’t get to put in his request as he got tackled from behind and didn’t have time to shoot Mumbo as he felt the cold feeling of a gun at his own neck.

Grian was sitting on top of the man, a scary smile on his face and a gun aimed at his neck and he genuinely looked excited at the chance he might get to shoot him.

#grian #hermitcraft #sleepy0s #pearlescentmoon #xisuma #evo smp #avian grian #samgladiator yhs #mumbo jumbo #skyblings #watchers #watcher grian #tangotek #docm77 #moth pearl

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robinhobiii · 2 years ago

Text

i love boo | boyfriend! b. sk

summery : seungkwan is your best friend but he’s also your boyfriend

Part II, Part III

“Babe, I’m telling you Girls’ Generation is better than Wonder girls!”

Gasp!

“You take that back this instant. Don’t disrespect my favorite girl group like that.” He said as he snatched the remote

“Maybe, I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t scream “I want nobody nobody but you” in the shower at 7 in the morning! ”

“Stop being jealous that I’m better at singing than you. ”

“Sure, kwannie. Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! I literally won the singing competition last summer!”

“Yeah against kids.”

“The age range was anyone from the ages of 13 to 18!”

“You’re 25.”

“. . . S-so, I still won. Winners succeed in life, y/n. Take notes. ”

“I’m not taking notes from a man that took a 13 year old’s thunder.”

“Shut up! I hate you sometimes!”

. . .

“Kwannie, hurry up!” Y/n whined as she continued to wait on the sofa.

“Just a minute. I’m almost done.” He replied.

“You said that 20 minutes ago.” She muttered.

“What was that buttercup?”

“Nothing, just hurry up.”

God, he was always late to everything. Y/n thought she was the one the took forever to get ready, but Seungkwan was another level. He took even longer than her.

“I’m ready, my love.” He sung out after another 10 minutes.

“Wow, you look amazing, beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful.” She said sarcastically as she finally put her shoes on and waited for Seungkwan to do the same.

“No, say it like you mean it or else I’m not wearing my shoes and we’ll be even more late.”

The audacity of this man. Let me just strangle his stup-

Sigh

“My beautiful Kwannie. You have wonderfully graced my eyes and I’ll forever be grateful to be in your ethereal presence. Now shall we get going my love bug?”

Seungkwan giggled. “Yes, of course!”

. . .

“Y/nie, I’m so cold right.” Seungkwan said as he shivered.

Y/n took his cold hands and intertwined them with her slightly warmer ones, and shoved their hands in her coat pocket.

He blushed as he said “you know, I’m supposed to that.”

“Can’t have my beautiful Kwannie freezing on me.” She said teasingly.

He rolled his eyes as his free hand reached into his pocket. “Oh no!”

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“I forgot my lip balm.” He whined out. “Now, I’m cold and have dry cracked lips.”

Y/n chuckled as she felt her lip balm in her other pocket. But it wouldn’t be fun to just give it to him. She came to a stop and Seungkwan turned to look at her. “What? Did you forget something too?” He said as he scanned her face.

She only smiled and looked straight at him. She then put her hands on his shoulders and went up on her tippie toes to place a warm kiss on his cracked lips.

“There.”

He blushed like crazy and looked at her all flushed. “W-what?”

“You said you needed lip balm, so I gave you some.” Y/n was also blushing red.

He licked his lips out of habit and tasted her strawberry lip balm.

“We should head home.” She said as she made her way away from him.

“W-wait for me. I’ll get you back when we get back home.”

. . .

“Do you think Seokmin oppa ever washes his hand?”

“Never. One time he was tasked with cutting the watermelon and Channie told me that he didn’t wash his hand when Chan asked him.”

“Eww!” She laughed. “Did you eat it?”

“Jeonghan hyung told us to wash it thoroughly and not to tell anyone else. I refrained from eating it though. ”

“Note to self, don’t eat anything if Seokmin oppa didn’t prepare in front of us.”

They both laughed. “What other stories do you want to hear about the boys?” Seungkwan said as he raked his fingers through her hair.

“Hmm, how did you and the boys meet. And no embellishments on the stories. You always over exaggerate everything.” She slightly scolded.

“Me?! Over exaggerate?! I would never!”

. . .

“One iced americano and one hot chocolate with two chocolate croissants, please.” Seungkwan said.

After they got their order, they both sat in a more secluded part of the cafe.

“You know, kwan, you have to stop drinking that vile drink. It tastes so bad.” Y/n furrowed her eyebrows.

“It’s a taste you have to get used to, sweetie. And clearly your childish taste cannot comprehend the complexity of this beautiful drink.” He said with that smug look on his face.

“Kwan, you’re eating a chocolate croissant and I’m having a hot chocolate. If anything, hot chocolate has a more complex flavor than that abomination.”

His eyebrows twitched as he said “Oh, is that so?” with a slight irritated smiled.

“Y/n, one day, you’ll understand the wonderful taste that is an americano.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, I know you’ll never let this go.”

“It’s cause I’m right.”

“Sure, you can continue to like your Americano and I’ll continue to like my hot chocolate.”

“You’re totally missing out.”

“I’m not missing much.”

“I’ll be waiting for the day you drink it.”

“That’ll be never. I hate the taste.”

Seungkwan smirked as he leaned forward towards her.

“You may hate the drink, but I love you and your chocolate covered lips.”

She blushed as she touched her lips and felt some chocolate smudge off.

“Y-you idiot! You should’ve told me earlier. You know how many people I smiled at when they walked passed us? I probably looked like an idiot with my face covered in chocolate” She whined as she wiped her lips with a napkin.

“Hey, at least you’re my idiot.” Seungkwan said with a lovesick smile.

“I’m going to kill you one of these days, kwan.”

. . .

“I love you.” Seungkwan said.

It was 12:03 am and all the lights were off. They were on laying his living room floor. The tv was playing songs from their shared playlist and the vibes were perfect. And so naturally Seungkwan said the big three words. She was silent for a bit.

“I like you too.”

“Hey! I said I love you!”

She smiled. “Say it properly, baby.” Seungkwan pouted.

“I did say it. I like you too.”

“Don’t be like that!!” He whined out.

“I’m going to sleep.” She said as she made her way to the bedroom.

“Y/n, say it backkkk.” He whined again as he followed her.

“Good night, kwannie.” She announced as she got comfortable on the bed.

He sighed and pouted his lips. His back was facing her and she silently giggled. She turned around so her chest was pressed against his back.

“I love you more.” She whispered finally.

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bluebelly-sun-serpentine · 4 days ago

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grad student about a 5 years to a decade older than most of my peers on campus, and your post about "Vibes held tyrannical control, and everything had to come to them with absolutely no friction or they lost interest or immediately gave up" is so - heartbreakingly real. I've been really shocked, coming back to academia, how disinterested in politics these kids are (same school I got my undergrad in and I was politically active then too so I remember it differently), however polished their language is and however careful they are to never give offense. and I'm like, /begging/ the local activist scene to learn some project management. it's like whenever I say Something Needs To Be Done someone reacts like "great! do the thing so you can build your Brand!" it's marketing brain that's somehow resulted in about a million tiny ineffective groups that don't even hate each other, they just don't know each other exists and have no idea how to work together on anything. all these flash in the pan calls for action and no longer-term planning at all for how to keep people engaged or move them on to the next action item.

also like. This Isn't New. but being soft butch and feeling like people somehow don't think I'm gay or care about being gay because I'm not Up On Fashion (like maybe I care more about the environment than Signaling I'm Gay by buying fast fashion off Temu? how is the latter the more progressive option?), or on TikTok, or listen to the right music - euughheeughhhh. (and then I spend most of my Serious Time with straight white guy engineers, who largely don't give a shit about fixing their misogyny enough to work with the vast majority of the environmental movement [and seem eternally bewildered that the environmental movement isn't coming /to them/], but - I guess - at least - they do have /blueprints/ of what could be done with industrial policy. if we ever got our shit together)

anyway the self-silo'ing and lack of stamina and using up that limited stamina with an eye only towards optics and nothing else - it's real

(*and /then/ people go 'well you can't blame them the social isolation of COVID ruined their sense of civic duty, attention spans, etc.' and I'm like - I spent most of my young life trapped at my parent's house as a disabled rural person who couldn't afford a car and somehow learned to deal, so my sympathy for the young people who fuck up in civically ruinous ways for superficially similar reasons is /maybe limited/)

Oh wow that was a lot. sorry.

Hi,

I wouldn't say that's "a lot." I'm sorry you are having a tough time with this part of grad school, and a lot of what you're saying really reflects the experience I had - not just with my undergraduate peers but even with the graduate students who taught or assisted in classes (or when I encountered them socially or in other contexts*). I also heard from professors who were very candid with me (probably because I was older, but maybe because I am a terminally candid person and that invites people into my confidence), that they were feeling increasingly hopeless about the diminished capacity and lack of commitment they witnessed in their students. I ended up grading papers during my last year in school and to be honest I was horrified by the level of incompetence brought to assignments in upper-division courses. I felt like I was 95% of the time witnessing middle- or high-school level work with little to no critical thought, and this from students at a very prestigious university.

When we talked about charged issues in class, I was also shocked by how unwilling/unable students were to formulate reasoned arguments, support their case with actual information (rather than just social media feels), to disagree with others on any substantive or materialist basis, or you know, even raise their hands or chime in. Students just took zero initiative in class to engage with the material, with their professors, or with their peers in a meaningful way. Then they'd get out of class and complain about how much it sucked (sometimes the class did suck, but almost nobody ever made any effort to make use of the time despite that – take charge, start a discussion, etc – which was disheartening).

I really think there's something to what you've mentioned about campus activists being brand- or optics-obsessed. My conjecture is this just has absolutely everything to do with the way every single kid in this upcoming generation has been encouraged to personally brand themselves from the moment they started engaging with social media. This is an incredibly corrosive force, and I can't really sugarcoat it. I really just think it makes people worse: dumber, less thoughtful, more obsessed with conformity (even if only to a subculture) and with how things appear, less interested in how things actually work. I did not grow up with influencer culture; I was really active on the internet as a kid when everything was browser-based, social media barely existed, and everything wasn't yet mediated by apps. But when I was working as a musician I was contractually obligated to self-promote. I legally had to be active on instagram, facebook, whatever new platform came next, as part of a clause that required me to do whatever I could to self-promote, and it was awful. It made me feel awful (uncomfortable, tired, harried, watched, paranoid), and it made me feel that I was becoming awful (self-obsessed, neurotic, insecure, too focused on appearances, unable to express myself honestly).

It seems to me that this is what young people are feeling all the time, because what was once a contractual obligation to me has always been socially mandated for them. Then you add in the dopamine trap of short form video, the affects of social voyeurism, the inability to focus long enough to really read anything (which I maintain is not their fault, but has everything do with the media/tech landscape), and it really makes sense that young people would focus on the immediate rewards they get from feeling that they've virtue-signaled properly, or worn the right clothes to fit their perfect queer goblin-core aesthetic (so they can be recognized immediately by other perfect goblin-core queers), or bonded with their classmates over how cringe the people showing actual engagement and enthusiasm are. All of these things require less effort than finding out who they are as individuals (outside of their "aesthetic"), pose fewer social risks, and are not discouraged or challenged in any way by their institutional surroundings. I cannot stress how much professors complained about students being disengaged while not in any way discouraging that disengagement; for instance, when grading I was constantly instructed to inflate grades because the bar was so low and teachers didn't want to be held responsible for worsening metrics. Instructors never called out the class as a whole for not engaging in discussion. Instructors themselves also displayed so much indifference to their own course material/the job of teaching that sometimes I felt like I was the only person in the classroom invested in education in any way. I get that the job of teaching has become infinitely harder while the remuneration keeps getting worse; that doesn't mean you can stop innovating ways to get a student's wandering attention.

Re covid: I don't really buy the idea that Covid "lockdowns" (which never really happened in my country) or remote-schooling meaningfully delayed the development of this generation. Do I think it sucked for young people to miss some major milestones? Yeah, totally. But I missed a lot of major milestones as a chronically ill person (I missed most of middle and high school, obviously didn't go to college when all my peers did, have spent a lot of time physically alienated from society on account of my limitations) and this never made me unwilling to learn or to engage meaningfully with materiality, unable to make friends, or – most notably – nihilistic. I have always cared about stuff enough to do something with that care.

What I do think is actually much more likely is that repeated Covid infections, which are known to have serious neurological post-acute sequelae, have had a much more significant impact on young people (and people of all ages) than our culture is willing to acknowledge or admit (although medically this cannot be doubted). By 2022 nobody was masking in classes anymore, students were constantly coming in sick and campus was a chronic super-spreader event on a massive scale. I think a lot of my followers will probably find me annoying for saying this (certainly many of the people in my department found me annoying when I advocated for better ventilation and for policies that would allow students to stay home when ill and require them to mask if they absolutely had to come to campus while sick, even though I really did try to communicate in a way that would bring people on board), but what I'm talking about is not in question, scientifically, medically. Getting covid over and over again probably made a lot of people dumber, less motivated, and less able to focus, and honestly when you're that unfocused and foggy finding the energy to really care about anything enough to work at it effectively – whether that's your schoolwork or your activism – is really hard. I cannot stress how much I believe a lot of people are now just disabled and don't realize it. And I don't think that just affected young people.

As I said before I was also horrified by the lack of competence and meaningful engagement displayed by many of my professors, and by what I can only describe as their active participation in an environment of political incoherence and hypocrisy. I made some really wonderful connections with a few of lecturers and professors who really worked hard - in their research and their teaching and their political thought and praxis - and whose commitment to expanding their knowledge and sharing that knowledge with students was very clear. But these people were very much in the minority. Part of this had to do with the university's incentive structure (what's expected if you want to make tenure, or get a tenure-track position, or make sure you still have a job the following semester as a lecturer), which encourages people to publish as much as possible and allows professors with academic notoriety to basically not do their jobs so long as their published work is bringing the university press. But I think a lot of them were just spending way too much time on twitter or bluesky complaining about their students and about academia in general (at least that's the impression I get when I follow academics, and when I followed academics and my institution in particular), or dealing with their personal lives, or suffering with executive disfunction for various reasons (including covid). To be honest the whole impression I got from my time at this institution was that most people were going about their day in a kind of haze of nihilism and complaint, and almost nobody committed fully to anything. it was so sad. It made me not want to get a grad degree, even though my mentor was constantly encouraging me to continue my thesis work as a PhD. I don't think I ever will go back, but I do hope that you finish your work. I know CS is its own socio-political hell, and that it cannot be easy to spend all your serious time with people who don't fully recognize your humanity, but I hope you will do what you can to stay in touch with that humanity (and the humanities), and that when you're not getting shit done for school or work you can keep looking for everything that brings you joy and makes you curious. You will get through this time.

*I could write a whole essay about how badly a grad worker strike that happened while I was there was managed. It did eventually get some good stuff done, but man, some of the dumb shit I saw grad students saying to undergraduates + faculty/staff made me feel like... "wow, you really don't know how to grow sympathy for your cause. You are not even following the legal and strategic advice of your union reps who do know how to organize." Some people are so invested in the performance of virtue that they cannot build coalitions, and then they wonder why the world never bends to their will.

#bluebellytalks #asks #politics #academia #youth #generational politics are dumb but I guess we're doing them anyway #the youvz

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aita-blorbos · 10 months ago

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( 🍤 for tracking purposes. And this is a different POV from an earlier situation.)

Am I the jerk for confronting a shopkeeper over his scummy business practices?

Ugh. Can’t believe I’m doing this. But I’m hiding out from some monsters right now, and it’s better than doing nothing.

I (M, idk and idc. Young I guess?) used to be a part of this dumb kids show. I only participated because I was bored. Not because I wanted to teach kids or anything. Teaching lessons is so boring!!! Where was I going with this? Oh yeah. I had to work with my fellow toons and interact with kids and stuff. And I’m sure you can tell how I felt towards them all.

To tell you the truth, I actually liked it when people stopped showing up at our home, cuz’ then I didn’t have to be a part of the show anymore. The only problem was when toons started going crazy for no apparent reason. We called these guys Twisteds (this is relevant later.)

Out of all the toons, the one I probably dislike the most would be D (M, don’t care. 5 or 6?) D runs a supply shop which is all fun and dandy, but I noticed that he rarely had good stuff for sale. Just useless junk food and cheap trinkets.

It didn’t help that he only accepted VHS tapes. Those things are hard to get, man! And his prices were seriously inflated. After the umpteenth time of getting tapes just to find he had nothing good in stock, I knew something had to be done.

So as any rational toon would, I snuck into the back of D’s shop when he went on a scavenging mission. If he thinks he’s gonna get ME to work my butt off just to buy some junk he thought wrong! Anyways, I start ‘borrowing’ his extra tapes (he had boxes and boxes of the things!) when D shows up again.

He starts YELLING at me to drop the tapes, to which I said no. I told him that he was saving all of the good items for himself, and that his prices were unfair. I wish I could have taken a photo of his face!! The smug, proud D pushed off of his high horse. If I didn’t do it, then surely someone else would eventually.

Dangit. Going on a side tangent again. So I was messing with D, and he kept trying to snatch the tape out of my hand.

To further tease him (as “friends” do), I push a shelf, causing a big box to fall over. Surprise surprise, it’s full of tapes. But D stopped going after me at that point. He just. Froze. And kneeled down by the box of spilled tapes. As the others enter the room to see what the heck is going on, I’m briefly considering if what I did was too much.

That consideration was short lived, as D freaking twisted in front of our eyes!! Twisted? Twist-ified? I dunno!! But he turned into a monster, and beat the stuffing outta me!! This one girl and these twins who I tolerate (F, and both M. They’re both like 5) managed to calm D down, before another guy knocked him out. But not before me, and a few others, were seriously injured. Who knew an angry flower could pack such a punch?!

…I didn’t stick around much longer, especially when D started waking up. Everyone was glaring at me and refusing to even come near, so I knew I wasn’t welcome anymore. Fine by me. I never liked them anyways, and it didn’t help that they all took D’s side. I’ve been wandering the lower levels of our home in search of a place to stay, and now you’re all caught up. So am I really the jerk for messing with D in the first place? I still think he could have run his shop better.

Edit: quit asking what floor im on its not like im gonna tell you. Its also gotten hard to type so no nore edits

Edit 2: MY MOUGTH IS GON WHWRE IS MY MOUTH

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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ananxiousgenz · 1 year ago

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SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: PART 14

yaaaay part 14!!! my favorite number!!!! i love this!!! apologies for the delay, school has been kicking my ass lately lol

okay kids, settle in: it's story time!!! this one is a longer one (around 2,000 words!!) which is part of why it took me a while lol

@smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini @the-private-eye (@gwenlena? idk if you wanna read this? but i can start tagging you if you want?)

The first thing he became aware of was the smell. Coal dust and dry wood and faint fire smoke, like some kind of strange cologne. The air was thick and heavy with it and he struggled to breathe in. The second thing was the dull pain traveling through his skull. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat, radiating out from a central point of the back of his skull.

His eye blinked open slowly and painfully to reveal several stacks of wooden crates, a few garbage cans, and the stone walls of some building. He didn’t know where he was.

Juno groaned, and tried to sit up and see more of his surroundings before a wave of dizziness hit him like a sledgehammer, and he fell backwards against the ground. He closed his eye again in the hopes the world might stop spinning long enough for him to be able to get up and escape this place.

Slowly, it all began to come back to him.

Peter’s deal and lack of voice. His insistence to save him. Slip telling him to leave. Juno refusing to go. Slip calling the executives. One of them whacking him on the back of the head. The world going dark.

He wasn’t sure what had happened after that, but he knew his body hurt like hell. After a few minutes, he figured the worst of the damage was probably a cracked rib or two that screamed whenever he tried to breathe normally. Everything else seemed to be a bruise or scrape. They must have beat the hell out of him and then dragged him to this alley.

He lay there for a few more minutes trying to work up the strength to stand, but couldn’t find it in him.

Suddenly, there were footsteps approaching, quiet and even. He couldn’t tell from where.

The workers? The executives? Slip himself?

A shot of adrenaline raced through his veins.

He pushed himself into a corner and grabbed the neck of a shattered bottle in defense. It might not have been his preferred weapon, but it was better than nothing.

The footsteps got closer.

Juno’s breathing was painful and shaky.

Even closer.

A figure rounded the corner. They spotted Juno, and raised their hands in defense.

“Whoaaa!! Hey, buddy, I don’t mean any harm! Man, if I had a nickel for every time I found someone in an alley who started pointing a weapon at me...”

Juno’s eye widened. It couldn’t be.

The figure stepped forward, and a little of the orange glow of the nearby metalworks fell on their face. “Hey, are you hurt? Do you need help at all?” they asked, crouching down to just above Juno’s level.

He knew this man’s face. He would know that voice even at the ends of the earth. Both had haunted his dreams for the last 20 years, and still echoed in his waking.

Benten.

His face floated across from Juno, smiling and slightly sheepish, but just exactly as Juno remembered him. Warm eyes, vaguely mischievous expression, gap-toothed smile, gentle hands, hair in neat braids knotted on top of his head. Juno felt his face going pale and the bottleneck slipping from his grip as this ghost looked at him in increasing concern. And suddenly a strange sort of fear began creeping over him.

“I’m dead, aren’t I? Oh gods, I’m dead. I died.”

The specter of Ben snorted and rolled its eyes. “Yeahhhh, sure, let’s go with that. Pretty much everyone is in Hadestown. Kind of comes with the territory, you know?”

Juno couldn’t say anything in response. His mouth had gone completely dry. He just kept staring, breathing hard and ragged. The bottle clinked to the hard ground and Ben’s brow furrowed in concern.

“Are you sure you don’t need…” Ben’s voice trailed off as he leaned a bit closer to Juno’s face.

His eyes went wider the longer he looked. Ben drew in a sharp breath.

“Oh gods. I don’t……. Juno?” he asked, so quietly Juno barely heard it over the distant clanging of pickaxes and the grinding of factory gears.

“Ben,” Juno choked out.

And then Ben catapulted himself into Juno’s arms, and they were both laughing and crying. Juno didn’t even mind the pain. He hadn’t felt this full of joy in a very long time. His brother was here again, solid and real and warm in his arms. And gods, if it didn’t make him feel like he could tear down this whole damn town with nothing but his own two hands.

“Juno!!! Super Steel!! It’s been so long, did you miss me? How in Hades did you get down here? Did you die? Or did you sneak in? If you did, it’s a little unlike you, because I was always better at getting into trouble and you were better at planning it but not really carrying through. OH, and you’ll never guess who I met! I ran into your HUSBAND. Your HUSBAND, man!! I can’t believe you got married and never told me!” Ben chattered away, eyes glittering with excitement and joy and a few tears he couldn’t stop from rolling down his face.

“Slow down, Ben, give me a second!” Juno hissed through his teeth as a spike of pain lanced his lungs.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“About as good as I can be considering I think I just had the hell beat out of me. Could you help me up? Feels like I got hit by an angry toddler with a brick.”

Ben stood, wrapped his arm around Juno’s shoulders, and pulled him onto his feet before giving him a peculiar look that Juno was in a bit too much pain to decipher.

“What is it, Ben?”

“Nothing, it’s just-” he sighed, “It’s good to see you again. I missed you.”

A smile crept onto Juno’s face. “I missed you too. Loser.”

“Oh come on, I am NOT a loser!”

“Yes, you are. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“If I’m a loser then you’re…. Well, I’m not sure what you are, but at least I’ve never ended up bloody and bruised in a random alley somewhere.”

“You’re acting like you never took a punch when we were kids.”

“The only punches I ever took were from you, and you hit like a feather, Super Steel.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! I knocked Mick out once.”

“You and I both know Mick could get knocked out from tripping over his own shoelaces. That does not give you bragging rights.”

Juno stuck out his tongue in response and Ben recoiled, one hand pressed to his chest in mock offense and disdain.

“Really! I thought we were a little more grown up than that! If you keep behaving like that, I won’t be able to take you back to the hideout! You see, we only allow adults in there, and you, Super Steel, are not acting like an adult right now.”

Juno rolled his eye and sighed the deeply exasperated sigh only produced by interacting with one’s sibling. “Okay, fine. I apologize for sticking my tongue out at you.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“Aaaaaand for calling you a loser.”

“That’s more like it! I’ll take you back to see Vespa. She’ll be able to do something about those bruises and scrapes of yours. By the way, what happened to the eye? You lose a bet or something?”

—----------------------------------

It was slow going to get back to the hideout. Juno couldn’t walk too fast from a shooting pain in his shin and the probably cracked rib, but Ben was more than happy to spend the time talking and catching up on everything he missed. Juno told him about the bar he worked at, about Buddy and Jet and Rita, about the nasty winter that hadn’t let up for years, about his reason for the journey down here. In return, Ben told him about Hadestown, the work hours, the jobs, the forgetfulness, the cruelty of Slip and the executives.

“Why haven’t you fought back yet?” Juno asked, limping through the door to the hideout before gingerly lowering himself onto a mat on the floor.

Ben shot him a confused look. “What are you talking about, Super Steel?”

“Against the executives. Against Slip. This whole thing is so unfair. Why haven’t you guys tried to fight back yet?”

“Not sure.” A tall person with long white dreads who was seated at the table responded as they entered. “Maybe it’s because they own all of us?”

“Hey, Vespa? You here? We got someone who needs some patching up!” Ben called into the recesses of the house.

A moment or two later, a woman with short, spiky, neon green hair emerged, rubbing her eyes. “This better be good, Steel. I was in the middle of a nap,” she muttered, shooting daggers at Ben.

“It’s my brother. My twin. He’s got some scrapes and a couple nasty bruises you might wanna look at.”

The woman, Vespa, glanced between Ben and Juno before giving Ben a glare that could have singed wood. “You woke me up for some scrapes and bruises?”

Ben went completely silent and stared at the floor. The person opened their mouth to speak, but Juno beat them to it. “Yeah, he did. I think I got a broken rib, too.”

Vespa’s lazer-sharp gaze turned on him the second he began speaking. Juno stared right back. She looked him up and down for a moment before letting out a small huff and turning back down the dark hallway she came from. She returned shortly after, carrying a small bag filled with medical supplies that she threw down next to Juno.

“Is it true?” Juno asked, wincing occasionally as Vespa began to take a small antiseptic wipe to some of the more prominent scrapes.

“Is what true?” Ben countered, leaning against one wall.

“That Nureyev signed the contract. That there’s nothing I can do to save him.”

“Yup,” chirped Vespa. “We’re all fucked down here.”

“Vespa,” the person at the table said, shooting a warning glance in her direction. “Leave him be. He just lost his husband.”

Vespa sighed. “I know, I know, M’tendere, but if he’s going to be down here, he should at least know what he’s up against.”

“It’s just…. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. None of this is fair!”

“We know, Juno,” Ben sighed. “We also don’t think it’s fair that the world is like this, but that’s the way it is.”

There was silence for a minute as Juno chewed on his lip and Vespa finished bandaging one of the more major cuts.

“It shouldn’t be that way,” Juno finally whispered into the silence. “If I can’t save him, then what’s the point of me even being here? If none of you can ever work your way out of here, then what is the point of working at all?”

Ben, Vespa, and M’tendere exchanged a look. Juno continued staring at the floor, biting his tongue. This was just… so unfair. And he was so sick and tired of having to deal with it. He was slowly losing everything he had to Hadestown: his husband, his brother, his health, and now his ability to change anything for the better. It didn’t work on the surface, so why should it work down here?

But slowly, M’tendere began to nod. “He’s right, you know. Why should we even be working if we aren’t getting anything out of it?”

“You said it yourself! Because they own us,” Ben said as he threw his hands up to the ceiling.

“But there’s more of us than there are of them. Strength in numbers and all that. It isn’t right that a small group should tell everyone what is true and what is right. The many should decide that for themselves.” Vespa stood from where she had been crouching next to Juno on the floor.

“You could bring Hadestown to a standstill if you all just stopped working for a few days,” Juno said, easing himself up off the ground to stand next to Vespa. “Coal miners used to do it back on the surface to get better working conditions and pay. It could work here too.”

Ben was quiet for a minute, and Juno noticed that his face had gone suddenly thoughtful. “Huh. They couldn’t stop all of us, could they? If we partied around and had wine and flowers for a few days?”

A slow grin crept over Juno’s face. “No. No, they could only try.”

A matching grin appeared on Ben’s face. “Well, then. In that case, M’tendere, would you mind drafting some invitations? And Vespa, would you mind spreading them around? It seems we’ve got a party to plan.”

#this one isn't super angsty which is nice #but its still a bit painful lmao #as always #i hope y'all enjoy <3 #i love you guys!!!!!#the penumbra podcast #tpp #tpp hadestown au #hadestown #song for a caged lovebird

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dragon-tummy · 2 months ago

Text

DROPPING THIS ON THE FLOOR BEFORE I GET DRAGGED OFF INTO THE WOODS.

anyways heres the dan heng ficlet that was requested.

Reader is a size-shifter that gets tiny when overwhelmed or injured! YAY!!!! I LOVE PROTECTIVE VORE!!! I’m horrible at writing the setting, so the reader and Dan Heng are sent out to an unnamed section of The Xianzhou Luofu that had Cloud Knights enter but never return.

Looking at my notes and sighing. This might be a little bit OOC because I'm not very confident writing about Dan Heng.

—

You’re not expecting anything grand or wild for this trip.

You’re bored out of your mind. Your scythe rests on your shoulders, hands closed around either end of the long pole with the blade turned downward as you continue your walk straight ahead. It’s been nothing but silence - not counting footsteps - between you and Dan Heng, only solidifying the awkward barrier between the two of you.

It’s not that you aren’t friends. The two of you get along quite well, and while your personalities are on opposite ends of the spectrum, you still managed to form a good bond with him. The problem? You’ve never really been… alone with him. You’re not used to being in his presence by yourself, your once bubbly and talkative attitude dulled down to an anxious and quiet demeanor. Festering thoughts of bothering him or making the mission longer than it needs to be leads to you simply remaining silent.

He doesn’t say anything to fill the silence, either. While expected, you can’t help but wish he would say something to fill it in your absence of courage. With a short breath in, you try to break the awkward tension.

“So…” Your voice cracks a little, making you wince. “Uhm.”

He looks over at you. Your heart leaps into your throat as he levels you with his usual stoic stare, your nervous mind assuming that the look is something negative.

“Would you want to get something to drink after this? Maybe something to eat?” You give him a weak smile that definitely doesn’t fit your usual behavior, your lips thinning into a line when he doesn’t immediately reply.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind.” He answers slowly, his shoulders relaxing somewhat from their tense posture.

“I’m fine with doing whatever, I was just hoping to hang out with you a little more before we went back to the express.” Worrying your lip between your teeth, you eventually muster up the will to go further. “I’ve wanted to spend more time with you, I just haven’t really figured out how.”

“Hm.” Dan Heng’s expression shifts, a detail that you don’t miss. It’s a small twitch in his neutral expression, lip curling somewhat before the look is gone. “Alright.”

“So do we wanna go straight after this?” You shove down the excitement in your tone, clearing your throat before you continue. “I wanted to wander around the shops and see what's being sold before deciding on anything.”

“I’m fine with that.” He doesn't seem all that picky about the idea, turning away to focus his attention straight ahead. “I didn't get a chance to eat anything before we left, so-”

“I can pay!” You chirp before he can finish, shifting your scythe to let it slide off of your shoulders, resting loosely in one hand with the sharp blade inches from the ground. With it out of the way, you shuffle to walk closer with Dan Heng, pulling out your phone with your other hand. “There was this one lunch stand I saw the other day that I think we could try if nothing else catches my eye.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head to the side, giving you a glance.

Lifting your phone up, you swipe through a couple of pictures you took, giving him a wide grin when his gaze moves between your phone and your face. You continue when he doesn't say anything else about it.

“It smelled amazing.” You sigh dreamily, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “I'm kinda sad I didn't try anything before I left.”

“I'm sure we can get something this time, then.” He reassures.

Before you can continue further, there's a low chatter ahead. Both you and Dan Heng stiffen, coming to a full stop as your gazes flit around in search of the source.

You turn your head to look back as the next sound rattles from behind, heart sinking when you see mara-struck soldiers filter out of the spaces between the buildings. Like a pack of lions, they block the only exit back as more emerge ahead, boxing the two of you in. A low rumble comes from the soldiers behind you. They stumble forward suddenly, growling and swinging their arms forward to herd you closer to the rest of them.

“... I thought this was gonna be easy.” You mutter, mostly to yourself.

“They never said it would be.” Dan Heng grunts, brandishing his weapon as he eyes the threats around the two of you. “The Cloud Knights were disappearing for a reason.”

“How many even are there?!” Your tone is pitched as more seem to emerge, no less than twelve of them. It's getting hard to count them with how they begin to move around, circling you in the wide street. “This feels wrong.”

Dan Heng shushes you, stretching an arm out protectively in front of you. Listening to him, you don't utter another word, waiting for him to act or speak.

A soldier lunges out with a shriek, scared back by Dan Heng as he swings his weapon out, the end of it just barely grazing the chest of the mara-struck. As it retreats, another jumps out to try and get a hit in, doing the same as the previous as more of them join in. Doing this pushes you and Dan Heng apart unknowingly in your shared attempt to keep your distance from the soldiers.

You're barely able to keep up as they begin to swarm you, frenzied in their desperate attempt to tear at your flesh. Shoving two of them back with the pole of your scythe, you ram the bottom of it into the head of one, driving the curved blade through the torso of another. Sharp arm blades grasp at your weapon as you struggle to keep it in your grip, kicking a foot out to try and get the closest soldier off of you.

While Dan Heng handles them with practiced movements, you're clumsily managing to hold your own against what looks to be five soldiers. One enemy is fine, you can handle that with no issue. But five? You're far from confident.

One of them moves behind you, arm wrapping around your throat as the sharp piece on their arm threatens to dig into the side of your head. You're frozen stiff for what feels like forever, an instinctive need to fight bubbling up in your chest. Your body moves before your mind does, jamming your elbow back into the soldier behind you. While only stunned for a moment, it's enough for you to wrench yourself free, cutting into the soldier with your weapon as you try to scramble to the side and away from the circle they've attempted to make around you.

You're tackled to the floor before you can. Head knocking painfully against the ground, you shove the pole of your weapon against the throat of the mara-struck on top of you, keeping them back as they claw and swing wildly at you. The rest of them begin to stalk closer, watching.

You don't know if they're purposefully trying to be terrifying or not.

Nails dig into your face before being shoved away, cutting across your cheek and the bridge of your nose as you force your knee up and into the torso of the soldier. It's flailing wildly as it snarls and snaps, sounds leaking from behind the helmet. You're struggling to keep it back, another wound cut across your cheek as you tilt your head to try and avoid the swing of its sharpened weaponry on its arm. There’s only just enough room between the two of you to avoid a deadly blow to your head.

The rest begin to crowd around you. With a twisted sort of luck, the soldier on top of you fights your weapon down, pressing it against your neck as you did to it. The pressure digging into your throat is painful, a choked up gasp working its way out of you as your focus shifts to trying to get out from beneath your own weapon. The soldier grips the pole of the scythe tighter, raising it up before attempting to slam it back down against your throat. It’s terrifying knowing that it would rather make you choke than to finish you off with its own weaponry.

With a surge of energy, you shove the soldier off, adrenaline coursing through you. Just as you do that, another grabs you by the arm, your weapon falling to the side as another climbs atop you. Nails sink into the exposed skin of your arm as the one atop you raises their arm to cut you across the face. It feels like it's slowing down. Your racing mind is emptied, no thoughts moving through your head as your gaze remains fixed on the threat on top of you. You squeeze your eyes shut with a choked up whimper.

The pain doesn't come.

Everything around you shifts as a wave of nausea rolls over you. It feels like your entire world has been turned around, tossing you with it. Whether you want it or not, you've been shrunken into your smaller form. You squint your eyes open, watching the shadows of the soldiers move over you, massive. They're startled for a long moment, gazing down at you.

They're blown to the side before they can do anything to you.

With a rattling growl, someone picks you up in a full fist. It's an animalistic noise that terrifies you, your head snapping upward as you look up into the eyes of… Dan Heng?

Was this even Dan Heng?

Two horns extended out from his forehead, pupils narrowed to slits as he glares at the beasts that'd been on you moments before. With longer hair and sharper ears, this is someone you definitely aren't familiar with. He clutches you tightly to his chest, the feral sounds from him vibrating against your body. There wasn't anyone else that this could be.

You cling to his outfit as he turns and hurries away from the danger. You're only prevented from falling by the fingers closed around your body, a reminder that you are far more fragile now than you were before.

It wasn’t a secret to you that Dan Heng had another form. You were told about the little adventures that everyone went on before your arrival, and that included their main mission on The Xianzhou Luofu. While it was definitely something of interest, you never got the courage to ask to see. It seems you wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

“I'm sorry for what I'm about to do.” He murmurs, stopping a ways away from the soldiers. “I can't have you in the way when you're like this.”

You have another thing to worry about now, anyway.

There's no chance for you to question what he means as you're being held in front of an open mouth. A strangled noise of terror worms its way out of your throat, a sudden flare of horror spiking as you fight and shriek against being tossed into Dan Heng's waiting maw. Placed inside, he closes his mouth, releasing you. Attempting to shove your arms past his lips does nothing. He even goes as far as snapping his teeth shut when you pull back.

His tongue presses you against the roof of his mouth. The long, forked muscle curls, dragging along the underside of your body as you shove your hands against it. Dan Heng is quick to soak you with his saliva, pushing you around inside his maw as your struggling begins to weaken.

You're fighting against gravity as he tilts his head back, your shoes knocking against the back of his throat. Muscles ripple beneath you, opening up as you sink down into the tight grip of his throat. Your hands claw at his tongue for purchase as your upper half begins to slide inside, trying to cling onto anything to stop yourself from being swallowed.

A firm gulp seals your fate. Tightness envelops you on all sides, rippling and shifting like a wave as his body pulls you downward. Pushing and kicking does nothing, only serving to waste your energy as you pathetically try to resist. In an instant, Dan Heng had gone from a trusted friend to a dangerous predator, your breaths coming out in panicked huffs as you try to understand what just happened.

Drawn into his stomach, you do your best to remain calm, the cramped space doing nothing to help.

Pressing your hands against the flesh around you, there's little you can do as everything starts to shift. Jostled to the side a bit, Dan Heng's gut tightens around you as he moves around. You feel like you're being bounced around inside of a particularly firm bag, pushing your legs out to attempt to stop your body from being tossed back and forth inside of his stomach.

…

It takes a while, but things calm down.

You're sitting with your knees pulled up to your chest, listening to the muffled sounds outside as you take slow breaths in and out. At one point or another, the stomach walls around you had lit up, basking you in a gentle blue glow. While it was definitely an unexpected sight, it's one that managed to calm you down enough to think rationally.

“... Are you alright?”

His voice startles you out of your silence, your breath hitching. After handling such a situation, one that ended with you being eaten, you weren't keen on talking to him right now.

“Yeah.” You reply dryly. “I'm as fine as I can be after being treated like a piece of candy.”

“I'm sorry for doing that without asking.” Dan Heng seems to sound genuinely concerned, his hand pressing over his belly and against you. “I didn't have much of a choice.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, trying to find the words you want to use. There's a part of you that's still bitter at being given no time to react to his words, but you understand that the threat wasn't exactly safe for you to handle after you shrunk.

“It's fine, I'm just being mean. I… I wasn't expecting that.” You sigh, feeling a little guilty for being snarky. “I'm not mad at you.”

He lets out a low sound. You're unsure of how exactly to describe it, something between a breath of relief and an animalistic warble.

“I didn't mean to scare you.”

“I know.” You mumble.

“And I'm sorry for-”

“I already told you it's fine.” You snort, your anxiety and discomfort melting away in the face of his concerned nature. “You don't have to beat yourself up over it.”

“... Right.” He murmurs.

“Are we safer now?” You ask, tilting your head back into the soft walls. “I'm not being shaken around anymore, so I'm assuming yes.”

“Yes. You're s-” He cuts himself off, grunting. “We're safe.”

“Thank fuck.” You groan, shifting around to get more comfortable. Dan Heng's body responds to the movement, muscles clenching. “I seriously thought I was gonna die. There were so many of them.”

“I looked away for one minute and then you were tiny.” He sounds unamused, concern still laced in his tone. “I, understandably, panicked.”

“I don't disagree with you there. I'd panic too if my friend suddenly couldn't fight anymore.” You try to joke, tilting your head to the side.

A comfortable silence spreads between you. Rolling your shoulders, you stretch your arms upward and outward, grunting as you pop your joints from sitting in one position for so long. Your palms press against the flesh around you, pushing softly.

The silence is suddenly broken by a low purr. It startles you, your hands retreating for a moment. He could purr?

“... I'm sorry.” He apologizes again.

“For what?” You want to shake him for apologizing so much over this entire problem. “You didn't do anything.”

The purrs increase in volume as you press more firmly at his gut. Your eyes widen a small amount as you make the connection, your mouth slightly agape as you listen to the vibrating sound.

“I didn't know you could purr.” You comment idly, continuing to move your hands. “That's kinda cool.”

“You…” He trails off. It takes him a moment to speak again, voice a bit louder as he brushes over your words. “Do you want me to let you out?”

You almost say yes. You let your hands drop as you debate on it, pursing your lips in thought.

This entire thing was weird and concerning - you aren't even sure why you're still sitting unharmed in his gut - but you find it to be oddly nice. You're safe here, nestled away from the world and surrounded by blue tinted walls with a glow that makes you feel sleepy. If you really wanted, you could go as far as avoiding your responsibilities to lounge around in here.

That last part settles it for you.

“Nah. I'm cozy.” You chirp, shifting around to curl up. “If anyone asks, just tell ‘em I wandered off after the mission.”

“... Alright.” Dan Heng doesn't question your choice, lowering his voice again. “Just let me know when you want out.”

“Will do.” You reply back. “I'm gonna take a nap.”

“Do you want me to wake you up for anything?”

“Eh… no. I'm probably gonna be asleep for a little while, but I still wanna get some food when I'm out.” You nuzzle your face into the surrounding flesh.

“That's fine with me.” Dan Heng lets out a pleased rumble, purrs increasing in volume. “You don't have to pay for it.”

“I'll fight you on that.” Your voice is weaker now as your eyes slip shut. “I offered to pay for a reason.”

“Sure.”

#goober's rambles #h:sr vore #honkai star rail vore #honkai: star rail vore

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vulcajes · 4 months ago

Note

🔔 Lydora, getting together, student/professor

HERE YOU GO !!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since halfway through her first year at university, Pandora had been going to Professor Lyall Lupin's office to play chess every Wednesday evening. Now, at the end of her second year, their chess games were more about spending time with each other than teaching one how to play chess.

In all honesty, Lyall should've ended their little meetings far earlier than he did. The student had learned chess quite quickly and had gotten to his level in a matter of months. But he couldn't seem to let go of her. As an anthropologist, he felt a strong pull to the strange girl before him. He felt as though he needed to study her and understand her.

Lyall's original encounter with Pandora was through one Professor Fleamont Potter, who taught chemistry at the same university as him. Pandora, as a chemistry student, was already aware of Professor Potter, who had taken an interest in her for various reasons. This interest, entirely from the standpoint of curiosity about the young blonde, was what led Fleamont to Lyall.

An esteemed anthropologist in his own right, Lyall had been regaled with tales of a strange, yet endearing chemistry student. One who had bizarre practices within chemistry and her daily life, one who nobody could get a read on. She had a rather carefree (airheaded to some) demeanour that shone through in her breezy tone and scatterbrained way of moving. However, behind that was someone extremely driven in her chosen field. A woman who was intense, mysterious, and extremely knowledgeable to the point where she terrified most students that encountered her. Fleamont, on the other hand, was not terrified by Pandora and saw the intrigue someone like her could have for someone who studies humans. Thus, when she began asking her professor about learning to play chess, he knew exactly who to recommend to her.

Sat across from her every Wednesday evening, Lyall studied every move Pandora made. He listened to her talk as if she was speaking the gospel truth. She hardly spoke of any life before starting university, the most he knew was that she had a twin brother also at university, but she never mentioned anything else about him. The insatiable curiosity Lyall felt fuelled his desire to understand her. Who was she? Where had she come from? How did that impact her life and her ardour for chemistry? All were questions that swirled through his head each time they met for chess, yet they had never been answered.

“Lyall?” A slightly mocking voice drew him from his reverie. Pandora had long stopped referring to him formally, considering how close they had gotten since they began meeting. He wondered to himself if they were ever really close, considering they know nothing about each other.

“Oh. Yes. Right, sorry.” Lyall muttered, moving his rook to a spot on the chessboard. He was more distracted than usual, not nearly being as precise or effective with his moves. Pandora had picked up on this already, watching and waiting for the perfect time to strike. She had an idea as to why he was so engrossed in his thoughts, but she decided it best to observe for a little longer.

The game dragged on until Pandora finally put him out of his misery; delivering the winning checkmate that ended it all. She didn't often win against Lyall, a seasoned chess player of over 20 years, but she was also full of surprises. Sometimes he let her win, too, just to see the teasing airs Pandora put on once she felt superior to him. He enjoyed seeing her experience emotions other than the neutrality she often wore.

“Well done, Pandora. You have bested me.” Lyall responded kindly, extending his hand towards hers.

Pandora cordially took the hand, giving it a shake and letting him feel the softness of her skin. The scent of jasmine and very fresh soap wafted up to Lyall, filling his nostrils as his rough thumb gently stroked her silken knuckle. Her smile turned slightly more nefarious, like she had finally found the perfect time to strike.

Before Lyall really knew what was going on, Pandora had stood from her seat and sat herself directly in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. She giggled and squirmed to get comfortable, Lyall instinctively resting his hands on her hips to keep her steady.

His eyes were wide, nearly popping out of his head at the audacity of the girl. He stuttered and stammered, his face flushed with heat, utterly shocked by what just happened. “Ms. Rosier, w-what are you doing?! This is h-highly inappropriate!”

Pandora simply laughed in response, pushing her torso closer to the professor's. She started to stroke his hair, looking at him with a slightly raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Listen, Lyall,” she started, sounding startlingly calm, “I know you want me. I can tell why you're distracted…”

As she said that, Pandora glanced down at her chest, the dress she's wearing having a particularly low-cut cleavage. Lyall's face only reddened further, trying to keep his eyes up and equally trying to pretend he hadn't noticed before.

“Pandora, no. You know I'm married and this isn't appropriate. I am a professor and you are a student.” Lyall responds, trying to stay stern. His eyes keep darting around his office, refusing to look at the ethereal girl on his lap. She scoffed, grabbing his cheeks in her hand and forcing him to look at her. She was not going to let him get out of this one.

“Well, you and I both know why you keep meeting with me. Also, you're not my professor and your wife is banging one of her interns.” Pandora murmured, using her free hand to pull at the collar of Lyall's earthy brown button-up. The shock of finding out his wife's exploits was overshadowed by the shock of the moment.

Their faces were mere inches apart, the tip of Pandora's nose brushing against Lyall's. His body shuddered slightly, his hot breath beating against her face. They were so close. So unbelievably close. What had he to lose? He knew she was beautiful, so did she. It's not like he teaches her. He could even suppose this was why one of his coworkers sent her his way…

“Oh, fuck it…” Lyall murmured, crashing his lips against Pandora's as her gleeful noises of success filled his mouth.

#the marauders era #mwpp era #pandora rosier #pandora lovegood #lyall lupin #pandora x lyall #lyall x pandora #lydora #marauders microfic

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